Pain and Servitude

Chapter 5

Notes:

I'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy for the past few months and couldn't find the time to update. Sadly that actually reflected on this chapter: it's shorter and I'm not really satisfied with it, so I might go back and rewrite it completely at some point. I haven't abandoned this story.

There was an unpleasant screeching noise as silver claws dug furiously into the chain, but Megatron paid no heed. He wouldn't be chained like some cyber dog, he had more dignity than that even given his current predicament.

He resisted the urge to yell, to crush and destroy everything around him in his rage. Normally, he'd let it all out, if he were on the Nemesis, but seeing as he was in enemy clutches, he was not about to give his enemies the satisfaction.

No words were exchanged between him and Optimus during the trip here, nor after that. The Prime acted as if he didn't exist, as if he was just another piece of furniture and though it hurt Megatron's pride greatly, he knew that he could use this. Being ignored and mostly left to his own doings gave him the chance to think things through, develop some plan of escape.

Some part of him still couldn't believe that the autobots could do this, that Optimus could do this. They were supposed to be soft sparked fools, but as their victory finally caught up to them, they changed.

All that pent up pain and anger of losing friends, family and even their own planet spilt forth as soon as the dust cleared. Megatron could understand the other bots, but the Prime? That was a shock.

Eventually he gave up on trying to tear the chain and sat down with an enraged vent. He was too weak and malnourished to accomplish much in his current state. The most he could do was think things through.

The memories of the scene on the podium brought a fresh bout of rage he barely suppressed, he couldn't stop his servos from curling into fists.

Many sparkbonds were broken during the war. But that was the time of war and this was supposed to be a time of peace. What the did was barbaric, inhuman, monstrous. Losing a mate during battle was honorable, knowing that your other half gave their life for their bonded and the cause they believed in.. But this? Knowing that your mate was going to be dragged off by another to be used as a personal toy?! Even with though the former warlord was undoubtedly cruel, he would never do such a thing.

Giving up on keeping his composure, he struck the wall with an angered cry. His rage and the first stirrings of despair only grew at the sight of a small dent his fist left behind. He was too weak to even leave a decent mark.

Narrowing his optics to angry slits, he approached the window to look out. The chain connected to his collar, made it cumbersome and difficult, but he managed.

Tall, shining skyscrapers of rebuilt Iacon met his gaze, but the former warlord ignored the beauty of the scene before him. Behind that shiny exterior lay a darkness that only the higher ups and their captives were aware of.

He wondered of the other decepticons, his soldiers. He may have been a strict and, in most cases, a cruel leader, but he knew he held some responsibility for them.

Starscream won't hold out for long, that he knew for sure. He was a seeker, seekers weren't meant to be restrained for long periods of time, they were free spirits. And if you bring Ultra Magnus into consideration...

Megatron shook his helm almost violently and turned away from the window, instead leaning on against the windowsill, a scowl darkening his features. Since when did he care for emotional condition of that cowardly excuse for a cybertronian?

The sound of of the door opening followed by already familiar heavy pedesteps brought the former warlord out of his internal musings and he turned to face the mech entering the room.

Optimus Prime ignored the scorching glare directed at him in favor of approaching an energon dispenser, pouring himself a cube of energon which he promptly downed without sparing a glance at the silver mech on the other side of the room.

Megatron's engine growled against his will as the sight of the cube reminded him of his hunger and he cursed his momentary weakness.

He shrank away with a warning snarl when the larger mech approached, but when a cube was dropped unceremoniously in front of him, he didn't bother to hide his surprised expression. By the time he looked up at his captor, the Prime had already moved away, now standing by the desk and looking through the documents there.

Megatron looked back at the cube. It was barely half full, it wouldn't be able to satiate his hunger completely and it was obvious that that was intentional. It was obvious that they wanted to keep him in the weakened state he was and this would be the most he'd be getting from there on out.

The chains around his wrists would make it difficult if not impossible to grasp the cube, not that the former warlord would try anyway. Despite everything he still had his pride and he was not throwing that away.

So he made no move to refuel, instead opting to watch the red and blue mech through narrowed optics.

When he'd been brought here he'd expected abuse. He'd expected that Optimus wouldn't miss the chance to beat him up as soon as the door closed or just take him like all of his fellow decepticons were no doubt being taken by their respective 'masters'. Megatron wasn't delusional though. It would happen to him as well eventually when the council starts demanding for an heir.

Optimus may be treating him like furniture now, but that act would soon be dropped.

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Breakdown held back a groan as he lifted the heavy beam, joints creaking in protest from the strain.

His frame had certainly seen better days. Old and new dents littered every inch of his armor along with scratches that were all ranging in their length and depth. The eyepatch that had been welded over his missing optic had been torn away forcefully, thus tearing the lines and causing them to spark with electricity as well as leak small amounts of energon. A deep gash marred the corner of his lip plate from the punch he'd received back on the podium.

Bulkhead certainly hadn't wasted time to get the anger and hatred towards him out of his systems.

The day after the so-called 'ceremony', Breakdown had been put to work despite his physical condition. Bulkhead didn't care that he was malnourished and injured, on the contrary, he enjoyed seeing his former nemesis suffer under his command.

Well, when he would eventually collapse from the strain Bulkhead would have no choice but to get him the help he needs.

With these bitter thoughts running through his processor, Breakdown looked through the plans and layouts of the site that he'd been given upon entry. Megatron would find a way, He was sure of it. He and Soundwave. They wouldn't accept this situation, they would find a way to fight it, to free all of them and make the Autobots pay for what they'd done.

The most the blue bruiser could do was lay low and wait for the higher ups to come up with a plan of escape. Breakdown down would get Knock Out back.

The thought of his mate made his spark clench as he though of all the horrible things that could be happening to the red speedster.

His servos clenched as the memory of Smokescreen's lecherous grin flashed before his optics and he resisted lashing out at the wall in his despair. Breakdown remembered the way Knock Out tried to resist, how he'd looked towards him, cried out for help..

And Breakdown had failed him.

A sob disguised as a wheeze escaped his lip plates of it's own accord. He leaned heavily against the wall, palm pressed flat against the cold metal.

For the first time in his life, Breakdown has failed him.