Fuck indeed. Megatron only has a moment to stare into the optics of the guy he least wanted to see today out of all the guys in the world before that fist connects with his face, but it's long enough to see all too clearly what's changed. Orion was angry, too, but he was lost, confused; Optimus has thousands of years of context for everything that's just happened, and Megatron can feel every single one of those thousands of years slamming into his face and sending him sprawling into the sand.

There is this, at least: nobody else puts up a fight like Optimus Prime does.

He starts to push himself up, optics narrowed, fangs bared. "Optimus," he snarls, too angry to sound smug. "I don't recall inviting you to this get-together."