Pain and Servitude

Chapter 18

Megatron never thought it'd come to this. He'd always dreamed of what the future held for his empire and every scenario he had come up with included them winning the war. Never this, his mind never considered even the possibility of their loss. And now, here they were, crammed into a tiny room onboard their former warship, not as fearsome soldiers, but as broken, frightened slaves awaiting punishment. Megatron knew why they were here. Soundwave and Shockwave were still out there and the citizens of New Iacon were becoming restless. Megatron even heard of small public demonstrations against cruelty towards decepticons. Some bleeding sparks out there wanted fair trials, some executions, but most of the population, those who had fought in the war mostly, had no qualms with keeping the Cons in slavery. He supposed he should be grateful that a warning had been issued to the rest of his army to stay away in time. So far, the Autobots only had the Decepticon high command in captivity and their raids were not turning up any more Cons. Megatron thought he should probably thank Strika for that. She'd always been one of his most competent generals.

The Autobots wanted information on Soundwave and Shockwave's location and the bot assisting them. A small racer, former spy by the designation of 'Blurr'. The warlord had heard of him. The grounder had been quite a pain in the aft during the war, foiled many of their plans. If anyone could help his officers stay out of the Council's servos, it was him. But if he were being honest with himself, Megatron didn't think it would make much difference. They were never going to escape. There was now nothing left of the fearsome warlord the entire galaxy had feared. He was merely a broken shell, a shadow of a mech he once was. Nightmares plagued his recharge, the screams of his victims echoing in his audials every second of every day. There were times when he would look at his servos and see energon. And sometimes.. he'd see Orion. Orion and not Optimus. Orion staring at him with so much disappointment, so much anger, so much sadness that he'd start wishing he could just disappear, spark clenching tightly in its chamber, Orion whispering cruel words, digits sinking cruelly into his seams until he groveled and begged, Orion pinning him down and taking him like the slave he was now until he cried out in pain and suffering. And he never fought back, because he knew that he deserved it. Megatron had killed so many, had tortured, had driven so many people insane. By Primus he'd torn a kid's voice box out! A mere youngling too loyal to his faction for his own good and he'd mutilated him! And for what? To rule? Wasn't that the very thing he'd fought against? When had he started believing that Cybertron would benefit from his tyranny. How had he come to that conclusion? With growing horror, he realized that he could not answer.

A soft touch tore him away from the growing emotional turmoil boiling within him. He startled, flinching away from the contact, red optics wide - only to feel the mixture of sudden relief and self hatred at his cowardice when he met Starscream's worried gaze, a clawed servo still outstretched where it had brushed against his shoulder. The former second in command looked worse than he had at the gala, his silver armor dull and scratched and energon staining his legs. His wings were twisted and torn, resembling bits of scrap more than the instruments of flight that they were. If he looked closer, Megatron could discern the faint trembles that passed through the lithe frame. It did not take a genius to figure out what had happened.

The warlord was never one to show his emotions, even back during his days spent down in the mines, but now, surrounded by enemies and his distressed comrades, he did the only thing he could think of. Starscream let out a surprised yelp when a large, silver arm wrapped around his midsection, pressing him close to his leader's side as Megatron's field flared, enveloping their remaining comrades in comfort, worry and guilt. It was rather awkward, the silver mech had never done this before, he used to see this as weakness after all, Autobot sentiment, but he did it regardless, silently apologizing to each and every one for all the terrible things he'd done to them. He immediately felt Dreadwing's stubborn vehemence, telling him that he did what he had to, felt Airachnid's dark amusement ('Going soft are we, Lord Megatron?') and the barely there sliver of gratefulness in her field, felt the almost timid brush of Breakdown, the blue bruiser's thoughts far away, most likely with his mate and child. "We'll get them back", he thought silently, his E.M field fluctuating, "I promise you that." Breakdown seemed to understand, nodding in his direction, his worry decreasing slightly, assured by his leader's words.