Transformers Prime: Through Bad and Through Worse

Chapter Thirty Nine

Megatron managed to drag his resistant, squirming, complaining, and yelling prisoner into his own berthroom, and once inside shoved him to the floor in fury... The simple walk there had taken ten minutes. He had no idea how Prime put up with this little pest. "I could kill you right now," he snarled through gritted denta, glaring down at him. Ratchet met his gaze with almost the same look.

"Then why don't you!?" He spat, slowly shifting to rise to his peds. "It will save you time, Megatron, I guarantee it!"

The warlord raised an optic ridge, a sinister smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "I would much rather have you as my pet." He unsheathed his blade and stepped closer, so he loomed over the medic dangerously. Ratchet attempted to stand to level up to him somewhat, but stopped when Megatron hissed at him. "Stay on your knees, Pet."

Ratchet glared at him, but slowly lowered back down, now being forced to completely look up at him. "What is the point of-" The blade of Megatron's sword suddenly swiped across his cheek in one deft movement, silencing him. He gasped and cringed, but otherwise didn't make another sound, and stared up at him.

Megatron narrowed his optics. "Speak when spoken to," he snarled, taking Ratchet's chin roughly, claws scraping his jawline and neck cabling. Ratchet whined and leaned away a bit. "You have a lot to learn... but I'm willing to put patience into training you, my lovely little pet." A small, deranged chuckle escaped Megatron.

"I'm not your pet..." Ratchet growled. He immediately regretted it. The warlord hissed and backhanded him, the impact sending him onto his back with a yelp. A stinging lingered on his cheek, earning a few whimpers from him, bringing a sneer to his tormentor's face.

Megatron pulled his ped back and kicked his side while he was down, the medic giving a pained cry and struggling to inch away. "You'll be my pet," the warlord hissed sadistically. "Won't you, Medic?" He kicked him again.

"N-No!" Ratchet exclaimed, curling in a little, and crying out as Megatron kicked him yet again, hard in the side. He wrapped one arm around his aching side, praying that Megatron wouldn't continue.

The warlord thought for a moment, before retreating to a desk in the corner of the room. On that desk was two tall stacks of datapads, looking unorganized and sloppy. He smirked at the medic and kicked edge of the desk so the stacks came tumbling to the floor with a loud series of clatters. Ratchet stared in confusion.

"Pick them up and organize them in alphabetical order," Megatron demanded instantly, gesturing to the mess he'd made on the floor. "Now."

Ratchet scoffed. "I'm not your slave! You made the mess, you clean it up! I- AAHH!" His words faded into a fearful scream as the warlord snatched his wrist and threw him into the desk with a snarl, optics blazing. The corner of the desk slammed into Ratchet's hip painfully, drawing out a other scream. He leaned on the desk for support, both his hip and his side aching horribly and painfully, and stared at Megatron. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be treating Ratchet like a slave.

"Pick them up," the warlord hissed ferociously, "and organize them in alphabetical order, or I'll rip out your spark right now."

This can't be happening... There's no way I'm doing this... Ratchet said to himself silently, but shakily lowered and began picking up the datapads one by one, stacking them in his arms. Megatron watched in amusement, before laying down and relaxing on his berth, stretching out lazily. His gaze remained locked onto Ratchet as he worked, which made it a little harder for the poor medic, who was now alphabetizing the datapads neatly on the desk, putting them in straight stacks. He was rather tense under his enemy's stare, knowing whatever was crossing that sick mind wasn't to his benefit. After a few minutes he was done, being an efficient worker. Slowly, he turned to look at Megatron, a sigh escaping his frowning lips.

"Are you happy now?" He crossed his arms.

Megatron chuckled, and gestured him to come over, smirking. "Come," he commanded, as if Ratchet were an Earth dog. He earned a baffled and horrified look.

"I'm not your Earth pet!" Ratchet yelped, recoiling and taking a couple steps back.  "I won't be treated like this!"

"Ratchet, come," the warlord's tone darkened, and became cold and threatening. He slowly rose to his peds and pointed to the floor in front of him, baring sharp denta. Ratchet stiffened. If he obeyed, he'd be treated like a slave. If he disobeyed, he'd probably be beaten and threatened... a decision he didn't want to make. But, for the time being, he best keep himself alive. After a few moments, he slowly approached, as cautious as possible. Megatron nodded in approval, taking his arm and sitting him down on the berth. He turned to a cabinet next to the berth and opened it, his clawed servo reaching in and withdrawing something, resembling a dog collar. Ratchet's mouth dropped open.

"I'm not wearing that." He snapped, scooting away.

Megatron grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, ignoring him. "Hold still," he muttered, struggling to clip the collar on as Ratchet squirmed and resisted. It took a few tries, but he managed to clip it on, and lock it so the medic wouldn't manage to get it off. "There," he took a step back, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Ratchet tore at the collar angrily. "Megatron, take it off!" He exclaimed, glaring up at the warlord. "I'm not your pet!" A laugh escaped Megatron.

"You are now," he purred, stroking the medic's helm gently, laughing again when Ratchet jerked away. "When I'm finished training you, you'll be the most obedient pet known."

This can't be happening. Ratchet bit his bottom lip, and turned his helm away. He couldn't really resist without being harmed. Megatron could beat him, use him as a weak link, put another one of those data chips in his spark, or torture him slowly and painfully only to brutally slaughter him. He didn't want any of those to happen... he had a sparkling to live to see again.

"Why are you doing this...." He looked up at him, his voice quiet. Megatron stroked his helm again, as if he were a cat or dog. Ratchet stiffened.

"I want to punish you," Megatron said sweetly,  petting him gently. After a few moments, he pulled out a small remote. He pointed to a blanket set on the floor in the corner. "Now, go lay down." When Ratchet hesitated, he clicked a button on the remote. Instantly, Ratchet gasped and let out a shriek of the pain as a horrible shocking pain coursed through him, wave after wave of electricity coming from the collar. He curled up and hugged himself, whimpering and crying out in agony. After a few moments, Megatron clicked another button, and the pain stopped, yet still lingered in his now aching frame. He once again pointed to the blanket. "Go. Lay. Down."

Ratchet whimpered and hauled himself up and stumbled over to the corner, and sat down on the blanket, trying to shake off the agony. Stupid collar.

"You'll behave now, won't you?" Megatron said teasingly.

The medic forced a tiny nod, knowing he'd probably hit the button again if he didn't. Megatron settled down on the berth, pulling a blanket over himself. A few moments later, a soft snore sounded from the warlord. Ratchet sighed, and wrapped the blanket around himself and laid against the wall. This was a completely random twist that he had never expected... Megatron literally wanted him to be his pet. His threat from when Ratchet lost his memory had become reality.

He sighed. Perhaps Megatron wouldn't do anything to him tomorrow.