"So noted," Orion agreed dryly. His field fliched when Megatron started using his hands - the pop of shattering optics and helm casing making his shakes return with a vengeance.

"...urgh."

He turned away, tanks churning, optics dimming as he blocked out the view and tried not to be ill. The violence of the kill was bad enough; the strange satisfaction he suddenly felt at it's death repulsed him even more.

What sort of thought was that to have?