Pain and Servitude

Chapter 16

The door opened suddenly, almost slamming against the wall with enough force to make the walls and floor faintly vibrate. Ultra Magnus stormed in, blue optics flashing with a ferocious fury that Starscream had never seen before in the collected Autobot. An undignified yelp wrung itself from his vocalizer as a servo clamped over his neck cables, causing the metal to squeal in protest at the tight grip. The seeker cringed back as much as he could, claws scrabbling desperately to alleviate the pressure, vents struggling.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Ultra Magnus's voice was deceptively soft, almost kind even, if his rage wasn't so obvious in the stiffness of his frame and the tight hold around Starscream's neck.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Autobot!" Starscream hissed, red optics flashing as he fought for freedom, violently writhing in hopes of dislodging the larger bots's hold. Ultra Magnus leaned only closer, blue optics flashing with cold fire.

"You convinced the medic, Ratchet to betray our cause and staged the escape of two slaves, the communications officer and the scientist." The seeker's optics widened. Soundwave and Shockwave had.. had escaped? But how?! He'd known Ratchet to be sympathetic to their predicament, but he'd never expected the Prime's lapdog to grow a back strut and actually take initiative! Where were they now, were they safe? For reasons unknown that worried him more than the very real danger he was being currently presented with. Angered by his silence, the Magnus slammed him against the wall, the seeker grunting and coughing in pain at the violent action. "You are the Decepticon Second in Command, one of the best strategists the decepticons had and you're also known for being untruthful, Starscream," The Autobot practically hissed, "But I would strongly discourage lying to me now, this doesn't have to be any more painful for you than it already is."

But Starscream had had enough. He would not be a coward any longer or this would never end. He would no longer submit to these disgusting excuses for Cybertronians. The seeker would prove Megatron, his true master, his allegiance. How long had it been since he'd last fought back? When exactly had he started groveling just to survive? Was it after the loss of his trinemates? The fact that he was being accused of staging the escape of his comrades now seemed strangely flattering to him. The Autobots still saw the brilliant strategist within him, the second in command of the fearsome warlord, Megatron himself. Why not live up to their expectations? His red optics narrowed into slits, clawed hands grabbed onto the offending servos, pulling them away with difficulty from his abused throat. "I staged nothing." He growled, the darkened room flashing red as an angry fire and determination lit up his crimson optics. "And even if I did, I would never betray my comrades or my beliefs.. unlike you."

WHAM!

A silver servo crashed into his jaw, the force sending him flying to the floor. The Autobot was upon him in a nano-second, immobilizing him. There was nothing left of the usually level headed and cold Autobot SIC. Instead there was rage, frightening, terrifying anger that shook the seeker to his core. The Autobot leaned in, one servo holding his wrists high above his helm while the other trailed slowly, threateningly over his quivering flank. "I'd received this order a few mega-cycles ago," the larger mech spoke, his voice suddenly returning to its usual pitch, the words cold and almost professional. "I'm fortunate that I put it off for this long, perhaps it will help loosen your glossa.."

Starscream's optics widened.

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A silver fist slammed into the wall, but the force behind it was too weak to even make a dent. Suddenly the fist uncurled, now grasping at the wall instead of lashing out as a his chassis heaved with suppressed emotions. He would not cry, he would not give the Prime the satisfaction of seeing him broken. He was Megatron, the emperor of destruction. Emotions were irrelevant to him, a nuisance, a sign of weakness and he was anything but weak. But despite how many times he told himself that, the warlord couldn't stop the images from surfacing. They flashed before his optics at every little sound, at any smallest sensation that reminded him of that night. He pushed them back, hate, anger and shame coursing through him and making his empty tank roil. He'd always dreamed of snuffing the Prime's spark, but his dreams had never been this vivid, this brutal. Megatron had planned to give his old rival a warrior's death, partly perhaps because of their history. But now he dreamed of tearing him to shreds, using every dirty trick he knew, pulling him apart piece by piece and watching the energon and inner components spill to the floor and stain his armor an electric blue.

He nurtured those dreams, clung to them, believing that only that way he could survive this and once again rise as the fearsome warlord he once was. But despite his bloodlust, deep down he was terrified. Because he didn't want to experience that again, never. Sometimes Megatron's dreams would turn to nightmares, Optimus Prime prevailing him in battle and once again subjecting him to that torture. The warlord would jolt awake, trembling, his claws ripping into the thin sheet he'd been bestowed upon. It wasn't just in his dreams. He couldn't stop himself from flinching every time the Prime approached to give him his meager share of energon, couldn't stop himself from watching the mech closely, as if afraid that he would drag him away again.

Disgusted, shamed and filled with burning fury, Megatron let his forehelm lean against the wall, a shaky vent escaping him. Is this how Knock Out had felt when that foul Autobot rookie had defiled him? Shame rippled through his spark as he remembered his last interaction with the medic. He should have been able to protect them, all of them! As a leader, he should have been closer to his soldiers, should have known their strengths and weaknesses as intimately as Starscream did. But it was too late for that now.

Slowly, he slid to crouch on the floor, his shaking legs no longer able to support his weight. Sharp claws traced over the silver armor of his forearms, increasing the pressure by increments, the room filling with an unpleasant screeching of metal against metal as energon bubbled and slowly dripped from the shallow cuts. Never before had Megatron felt this.. filthy, disgusting, used. The shower he'd been allowed to use did nothing to alleviate the feeling of the Autobot filth on his frame. Briefly, he wondered if it ever would even if they managed to escape. While he had the utmost confidence in Shockwave and Soundwave, the news of the capture of the Autobot medic put them at a greater disadvantage. If that wasn't enough, every captive decepticon would be subjected to the Cortical Psychic Patch in a vain attempt to locate their missing comrades. Fortunately, they had not yet formulated a plan, nor did they know where the other two former officers were or who was aiding them. But despite that, somewhere deep down Megatron was afraid. For himself and for his people. But most of all, he feared that they would not be successful.

A frustrated yell filled with unbridled fury wrung itself from his throat, red optics set ablaze. He would not be beaten! He'd rebelled once and he would do so again! And this time, for the fate of all of Cybertron, he would win.