On the Fields of Freedoms Edge - Chapter 2
Title: On the Fields of Freedoms Edge
Rating: R
Pairing: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Warning: Mentions of non-con, mpreg (highlight for warnings, spoilers)
Summary: TF Prime. Optimus goes to extreme measures to stop Megatron once and for all
AN: I think the alternate name to this fic should be "the one where Megatron spends a lot of time alone on an island". Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your encouragement is greatly appreciated. You all know how to make a girl feel welcome to a fandom. :D
When Megatron woke at last his chronometer was working, displaying a date several solar cycles from when he had last been aware of the date.
For some reason the realization that several solar cycles had passed with him unaware seemed only a distant concern. He couldn’t seem to muster up the will to care. His processor and frame felt heavy and everything seemed distant, from the passage of time to the terrible ache in parts of his body that didn’t bear thinking about.
He had the impression that something had happened. A malaise weighed upon him heavily, he knew vaguely that something was wrong but couldn’t seem to make his processor work enough to understand why he felt this way.
“Are you awake?”
Megatrons optics focused blankly on the face of Optimus Prime and a sickly feeling in his tanks blossomed. Brief flashes of pain and fear assaulted him and his servos itched to wrap themselves around the Primes neck.
His vocalizer sputtered slightly and he choked out, “What have you done?”
“The slave coding is set. The worst is over.” Megatrons optics slid away from Prime and focused dully on the wall as Prime continued to speak. “You aren’t restrained anymore, you’re free to move about but before you can leave I have a few specific orders for you, if you are to remind safely … retired.”
If his frame didn’t feel so heavy he would have Prime writhing on the floor in agony. He would watch the mechs optics dim as his spark faded and he would love every nano-cycle of it.
Prime seemed to collect himself for what he was about to say next. “Firstly, you are not to harm any living creature unless you feel it is a direct threat to your life. You are not to speak of what has happened in this room to any ‘bot or human save for myself and Ratchet. You are not to attempt to contact anyone aside from myself and this includes making your presence known to humans or signaling for help. You will not attempt to harm yourself or cause your own death in any way. And lastly, you will not attempt leave the perimeters of this island.”
Megatrons vents hitched slightly, every command feeling like a shackle on him as Optimus calmly spelled out his fate. The stupid mech actually seemed to think this was a mercy. He would have preferred torture over listening to those words, feeling the commands turn into code that effectively chained him in bondage, no better than a slave, unable to perform any action Prime had forbidden.
Prime seemed to understand this if the expression on his faceplates was any indication. The guilt of a Prime was something Megatron had assumed he would find great pleasure in, if he ever saw such a thing. The reality was considerably less enjoyable than previously expected.
“I hope in time you will settle into your new life and find some happiness.” Megatron said nothing, staring at Prime with murder in his optics and willing his greatest foe to die. “I cannot stay with you any longer but I will be checking in periodically. I’ve left you enough energon to last you for several orbital cycles and I’m sure you will find the valley pleasant. Some entertainment had also been provided.”
“A fine prison, Prime, you’ve been very thorough.”
There was an awkward silence and Prime left with a murmured: “I can only hope one day you will forgive me. I wish you to know that had I seen another option I would have never done this to you but if slavery is the alternative to your death then I will gladly take it. Despite what you may think, Megatron, I have always valued your life.” He paused as if expecting some reply. When none was forthcoming he said softly, “I’ll be back in a few solar cycles.”
Silence reigned for a long while until the sound of a craft taking off briefly disturbed the silence.
It disappeared soon enough and Megatron was left alone. Clearly Prime felt safe enough in Megatrons bondage to leave him unattended so shortly after his awakening. There must have been urgent business calling him away, he doubted Prime would have left willingly otherwise. Megatron could guess that the disturbance was Starscream related. His absence would have left a power void that Starscream would no doubt be eager to fill and, if Prime was smart, and Megatron grudgingly admitted he was, he would take full advantage of the confusion.
For once in his life Megatron wished for Starscreams success. If anybody could take down the Autobots, aside from himself, it would be his tenacious second in command. If nothing else could be said about the traitorous wretch he seemed to hate Autobots almost more than he hated his commander.
A smirk passed over his lips and faded to nothing.
Had he fallen so far he was reduced to hoping for Starscreams success?
No. He wouldn’t take this laying down. As heavily as the slave code weighed on him he wasn’t going to be defeated that easily. No simple line of code was going to take down the leader of the Decepticon army and a Gladiator of Kaon. He was Megatron. It would take more than Prime was capable of to defeat him.
Megatron heaved his body up, forcing away the vertigo and sickness. A terrible ache in his valve made itself known and Megatron bowed his head, feeling ill, knowing what had happened while he had been in stasis. When Prime said he needed a genetic imprint he had no idea that was what he had meant. Slowly he reached down to touch the source of the pain, flinching violently at the contact and coming away with energon stained fingers.
Prime had broken his seal, doing a crude job of it, the first to ever breach the Warlord and he hadn’t even the finesse to make sure the breaching hadn’t done any damage.
No wonder Optimus had left so fast, he was probably mortified.
Megatron certainly would be if he had ever failed so spectacularly at interfacing.
Gingerly he stood, groaning at the pain in his valve, steadying himself on the medical berth. The sick seep of fluids from his valve turned his tanks. He quickly found a discarded rag and cleaned the area as best he could, throwing the cloth away in disgust the moment he was done.
Once had had collected himself Megatron took stock of his surroundings. This wasn’t the room he had been in when he had woke the first time. He had been transported while in stasis.
The room was bare of everything but the basics. A simple medical berth, a locker of some sort, a stack of energon cubes and a basic computer system that Megatron would have bet any amount of credits was useless as a communication device. He decided to give it a try anyways.
As he expected it was a basic system with no access to any cybertronian networks save for a single comm link that was labeled as ‘Optimus Prime’. He was able to connect to the human network but Optimus’ command earlier made it impossible for him to use the connection to even attempt to contact his Decepticons. Even the thought of disobeying the orders made his processor ache.
No matter. An opportunity would present itself. He could be patient.
As much as it pained him to have been so thoroughly and completely trapped he would not admit to defeat until his spark was cold and dead in his chest. If there was a way out he would find it.
Megatron left the console, moving slowly so as not to aggravate his injuries, and headed towards the locker. That proved as useless as the computer, being filled with a variety of cloths, polishes and various data pads that, upon closer inspection, were nothing more than useless entertainments.
There was nothing more to see, this room was useless. It was time to see the landscape of his new prison.
He shuffled to the door. It opened automatically and he was momentarily blinded by the contrast of his dim prison and the blazing light of the outdoors.
His pedes sank slightly into the grass as he took his first step into the outdoors, taking in the seemingly boundless expanse of green.
As prisons went it was a bit more luxurious than he had been anticipating.
A field of rich green grass spread out beyond the walls of his prison cell, the contrast of green and the horizon of clear blue momentarily sent his frayed processor reeling. Such sights were impossible on Cybertron, the colours and the scope was alien to him. Though he had been on this planet for several months he had not gotten used to some of the finer points of living on an alien planet and his recent traumas only seemed to make the alien landscape that much more unpleasant. If he was to be perfectly honest, Earth disturbed him. He longed for the hard metal and symmetry of Cybertron. This planet was disorderly and chaotic and so terribly fragile. It didn’t sit well with him, a mech who valued strength and order above all else.
He took another step and surveyed the landscape. To the right was an area that looked like forest, to his left, a continuation of green field that he suspected led to water. He recalled Optimus saying he couldn’t leave the island. Water could prove an opportunity for escape if he could find a way to override that command.
Though he wasn’t familiar with humans climates he suspected he was still quite close to the Americas as the landscape and temperature seemed to indicate this was neither a tropical location nor a frigid environment.
Soundwave would know. He wished his Third was with him, Soundwaves advice was invaluable and of all the mechs in his command Soundwave was likely more familiar than any Decepticon with earth and its geography.
If only he could get a message to Soundwave.
His processor ached at the thought of disobeying a direct order.
Megatron grit his dentas, a low rumble making his displeasure known to no one but himself.
As long as he was trapped here he would be patient and wait for an opportunity, he trusted enough in Soundwave to know his loyal Third was searching for him.
All he needed was patience.
***
That night he dreamed. He dreamed of being tied down, humans were crawling all over him, getting under his armour and planting grass in his joints, tiny little creatures eating him from the inside out, turning him into a nest of organic life.
He tried to scream but the grass muffled his vocalizer, growing and growing until he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Roots twisted inside his frame and a tree sprouted from his mouth, growing up and up, its roots breaking him apart from the inside.
“Just relax, it will be over soon,” said Prime from above him, thrusting forward.
Megatron woke with a shout, rolling into a battle ready position, vents heaving and frame shaking with the force of the energon coursing through his lines.
Everything was dark.
He quickly left the small transport container that Optimus had left behind as his living quarters, escaping into the field. The sight of the grass in the moonlight made him slightly nervous so he picked up his pace and headed to where he knew the coastline was from his earlier exploration.
It only took a few kliks before the sound of waves reached his audials.
The sand beneath his pedes shifted, throwing has balance off. He didn’t care. He moved forward, closer to the water, then into the surf. Further and further until the compulsion to obey stopped him.
He stood hip deep in water, feeling the sting of his valve and the ache in his struts as the water writhed around him.
In the middle of the night with only the cold ocean as witness Megatron screamed.
***
It had been a deca-Cycle since his captivity began. Megatron had thoroughly explored every inch of the island, an island he had decided to name The Pit. Despite its name The Pit wasn’t all that bad, it was expansive enough for him to move freely and the local wildlife was varied and interesting. The caves were particularly interesting, enormous structures that required steady nerves and daring to reach as they could only be found by scaling down the sheer cliff face on the northwestern edge of The Pit where the winds and waves were strongest.
Megatron took the journey on his second week, gladly meeting the challenge of the organic world.
The caves themselves were a marvel, carved by ages of being pounded by the surf and the wind into vast caverns that Megatron had taken to residing in. He found them to be as close to Cybertron as the natural organic world seemed to allow. His feet held a steady ground and the size of the caves made him feel … normal, as though he weren’t a giant lumbering around in a miniature world.
It was when returning from the caves on his first deca-cycle that a searing pain hit him, midway up the cliff face an agony unlike anything he had felt in his existence seemed to come over him, nearly making him lose his grip on the slippery rocks.
Megatron groaned in pain, pressing his helm against the stone and riding it out, wishing his hands weren’t occupied, wishing he could curl up against the pain. Instead he was stuck between safety and certain death, unable to simply end it because of the slave compulsion yet unable to continue to safety for the continuous pain that nearly crippled him.
When it passed Megatron quickly scaled to the top, resting on the grass, exhausted.
The pain lingered, now a mild ache that was easy to ignore.
What caused the pain, he didn’t know. Ever since that first day he had been continuously plagued by aches and pains and a lingering fatigue that frustrated the mech who was used to being at top physical peak.
A small part of him hoped it was a sign of his eventual death, a larger part of him hoped not, he wanted revenge too much to die before killing Prime.
It was only the thought of revenge that kept him from falling into a maddened rage.
Later that day when he returned to his living container he found it had been restocked with energon and entertainment data pads. A few comforts had been added, cleaning solvents that Megatron gladly put to use as soon as he found them and what looked like a paintbrush and paints along with two canvases.
Megatron immediately shoved them into the back of the locker.
When he was free he would be sure to gouge out Primes optics with the brushes he had so kindly provided.
***
Megatron added a hint of green to the canvas. Though the water here was more often than not a murky grayish black, today was different, the water reflecting many colours Megatron would not have expected.
His claws were speckled with paint but he found it easier to get details right with the tips of his claws. The brushes were only good for adding bold stokes, the finer details were best left to deft claws.
Once he was done with this he would paint it over and start again.
He didn’t feel any great sentimental attachment to his work. It was merely a way to pass the time.
***
The Nemesis passed overhead. He only caught a small glimpse of the ship between the clouds but Megatron would know his ship anywhere.
Primus but he longed to shout and scream and wave his servos about to get their attention but he couldn’t, all he could do was stare at the spot where his ship had been and wonder if they had seen him. Surely not or they would have stopped, either to rescue him or for Starscream to gloat.
Freedom was so close and it had passed him by. It was the first time in an orbital cycle of captivity that Megatron allowed despair to take him.
He sank to his knees, letting his helm to bow until it rested on the soft grass. His claws flexed into the earth, gouging it and he simply gave into his depression.
He was not a creature given to emotional displays and even with not a soul to witness his shame this held true. He stayed like that until the sky went dark and all hope of rescue or escape seemed like a distant dream.
***
The seals were his favorite creatures on The Pit. They were charming in their own way, despite his initial disgust at the soft bags of blubber.
They loved him, he tolerated them.
He was chest deep in the water and the seals swarmed him, picking at his armour where tiny sea creatures darted in and out of the seams in his armour.
When this had first happened Megatron had shouted and flailed and hadn’t returned to the water for an orbital cycle. The thought of organics inside of him was enough to make his plates lock up involuntarily but eventually he came around. While he didn’t enjoy it and never would it didn’t repulse him as much as it once had and he had even found a use for it.
The solvents Optimus continually supplied couldn’t get into the creases in his armour like a full sonic shower could and so he had found his armour becoming uncomfortably sticky around his joints and in his back plates. The salt water of the sea and the tiny creatures served to loosen the grime. As long as he thoroughly rinsed with fresh water and solvents after being in the sea the tiny creatures were beneficial.
The seals were a bonus. As much as he attempted to remain aloof their playful antics and complete lack of fear slowly won him over.
They darted between his pedes and he lightly brushed their slippery hides with the tips of his claws, careful not to injure them.
It was the small pleasures he had come to rely on when he felt hopeless or when the terrible agony returned.
The seals were a small pleasure and one that he delighted in.
***
He lay in the sun, half submerged in water, unable and unwilling to move. He was exhausted for reasons unknown. His tanks felt like they were going to expel at any moment and was experiencing a near constant vertigo. The sun warmed his plates and the coolness of the water on his midsection was a balm to the lingering and unending pain.
Fear was all he knew these days. Fear of what was happening to him. Fear of dying alone and forgotten. Fear of living and spending the rest of his days as a prisoner of this island.
He whimpered softly when a particularly painful burst in his midsection had him doubled over.
What was happening to him?
Was this Primes doing?
Was it a virus or something he had caught from this accursed organic planet?
His vents hurt from the strain of pumping so much air through his overheating systems.
He offlined his optics and breathed.
The pain was manageable.
He would live through this as he had lived through every pain and struggle he had encountered in his long life.
A part of him suspected that he was already dead and this was his eternal punishment.
***
It was a stellar cycle into his captivity that found Megatron sitting in the midst of the vast woods that covered a small section of The Pit. He rarely came to the woods but he felt the need for some shelter. He couldn’t reach the caves these days as the pain had taken to striking at random times the past few solar cycles, coming in bursts of sharp pain that had Megatron on his knees, crying out. The longer this kept up the longer the pain lasted and the more frequently it happened.
So he took the walk into the forest, found a spot that seemed ideal, in the shelter of a titanic tree that had been uprooted long before he had come to the island. There was a hollow big enough to fit Megatron and the vast system of roots provided a good shelter.
The next few joor saw him carefully and meticulously gathering branches and various foliage and creating a covering for the hollow.
He wasn’t certain what strange compulsion led him to do this but he felt a deep need to see this project completed.
Despite the growing busts of agony that had him crawling at points he didn’t stop until he had cleared the dirt in and around the hollow and set up a covered shelter big enough to house himself without being seen from the outside.
I was a fine shelter though his critical eye would have liked for something a bit more substantial than organic materials.
The sun was setting by the time he had completed his task and entered the shelter.
It was well into the night or early morning when the screams began.
Every animal in the woods stilled and were afraid as pained bellows sounded out through the forest. As time passed the bellows became cries and finally hoarse shrieks of pain.
Megatron moaned, clutching his midsection and wishing for death. Anything was preferable to this torture. Worse than the pain was the uncertainty. As time passed he became sure that he was not dying but he couldn’t fathom what was wrong with him.
He would be in incredible agony and his body would seize up only to have a brief respite before the pain returned.
It seemed never-ending. His pedes dug into the soft dirt and in a moment of pure instinct he heaved himself up, kneeling, shivering uncontrollably as coolant oozed from the seams of his armour.
Something was trying to claw its way out of him. Primus, was this how he was to die?
Megatron dug his claws into the ground and screamed as a powerfully crippling pain ripped through him, involuntarily offlining his optics.
He felt his interface panel click and slide open, exposing his valve.
He was so afraid. His body was performing actions beyond his control. He felt like he was being taken over, subjected to a will not his own.
Another scream pierced the silent forest and Megatron pushed, trying to expel the source of his pain.
The agony peaked and he let out a pained sob as something slid out of him. He collapsed on his side, panting and heaving and shaking.
A small sound reached his audials and he unconsciously felt around for the thing that had escaped his body. It was small and wet. He didn’t care, grabbing it and hauling the small wet thing to his chest.
Distantly he was aware of a hardline connection being formed but he was too exhausted to care.
The last thing he was aware of was curling protectively around the small wet thing and a new line of code coming into being with the words: ‘Creator Protocols Activated’.
Next chapter
Rating: R
Pairing: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Warning: Mentions of non-con, mpreg (highlight for warnings, spoilers)
Summary: TF Prime. Optimus goes to extreme measures to stop Megatron once and for all
AN: I think the alternate name to this fic should be "the one where Megatron spends a lot of time alone on an island". Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your encouragement is greatly appreciated. You all know how to make a girl feel welcome to a fandom. :D
When Megatron woke at last his chronometer was working, displaying a date several solar cycles from when he had last been aware of the date.
For some reason the realization that several solar cycles had passed with him unaware seemed only a distant concern. He couldn’t seem to muster up the will to care. His processor and frame felt heavy and everything seemed distant, from the passage of time to the terrible ache in parts of his body that didn’t bear thinking about.
He had the impression that something had happened. A malaise weighed upon him heavily, he knew vaguely that something was wrong but couldn’t seem to make his processor work enough to understand why he felt this way.
“Are you awake?”
Megatrons optics focused blankly on the face of Optimus Prime and a sickly feeling in his tanks blossomed. Brief flashes of pain and fear assaulted him and his servos itched to wrap themselves around the Primes neck.
His vocalizer sputtered slightly and he choked out, “What have you done?”
“The slave coding is set. The worst is over.” Megatrons optics slid away from Prime and focused dully on the wall as Prime continued to speak. “You aren’t restrained anymore, you’re free to move about but before you can leave I have a few specific orders for you, if you are to remind safely … retired.”
If his frame didn’t feel so heavy he would have Prime writhing on the floor in agony. He would watch the mechs optics dim as his spark faded and he would love every nano-cycle of it.
Prime seemed to collect himself for what he was about to say next. “Firstly, you are not to harm any living creature unless you feel it is a direct threat to your life. You are not to speak of what has happened in this room to any ‘bot or human save for myself and Ratchet. You are not to attempt to contact anyone aside from myself and this includes making your presence known to humans or signaling for help. You will not attempt to harm yourself or cause your own death in any way. And lastly, you will not attempt leave the perimeters of this island.”
Megatrons vents hitched slightly, every command feeling like a shackle on him as Optimus calmly spelled out his fate. The stupid mech actually seemed to think this was a mercy. He would have preferred torture over listening to those words, feeling the commands turn into code that effectively chained him in bondage, no better than a slave, unable to perform any action Prime had forbidden.
Prime seemed to understand this if the expression on his faceplates was any indication. The guilt of a Prime was something Megatron had assumed he would find great pleasure in, if he ever saw such a thing. The reality was considerably less enjoyable than previously expected.
“I hope in time you will settle into your new life and find some happiness.” Megatron said nothing, staring at Prime with murder in his optics and willing his greatest foe to die. “I cannot stay with you any longer but I will be checking in periodically. I’ve left you enough energon to last you for several orbital cycles and I’m sure you will find the valley pleasant. Some entertainment had also been provided.”
“A fine prison, Prime, you’ve been very thorough.”
There was an awkward silence and Prime left with a murmured: “I can only hope one day you will forgive me. I wish you to know that had I seen another option I would have never done this to you but if slavery is the alternative to your death then I will gladly take it. Despite what you may think, Megatron, I have always valued your life.” He paused as if expecting some reply. When none was forthcoming he said softly, “I’ll be back in a few solar cycles.”
Silence reigned for a long while until the sound of a craft taking off briefly disturbed the silence.
It disappeared soon enough and Megatron was left alone. Clearly Prime felt safe enough in Megatrons bondage to leave him unattended so shortly after his awakening. There must have been urgent business calling him away, he doubted Prime would have left willingly otherwise. Megatron could guess that the disturbance was Starscream related. His absence would have left a power void that Starscream would no doubt be eager to fill and, if Prime was smart, and Megatron grudgingly admitted he was, he would take full advantage of the confusion.
For once in his life Megatron wished for Starscreams success. If anybody could take down the Autobots, aside from himself, it would be his tenacious second in command. If nothing else could be said about the traitorous wretch he seemed to hate Autobots almost more than he hated his commander.
A smirk passed over his lips and faded to nothing.
Had he fallen so far he was reduced to hoping for Starscreams success?
No. He wouldn’t take this laying down. As heavily as the slave code weighed on him he wasn’t going to be defeated that easily. No simple line of code was going to take down the leader of the Decepticon army and a Gladiator of Kaon. He was Megatron. It would take more than Prime was capable of to defeat him.
Megatron heaved his body up, forcing away the vertigo and sickness. A terrible ache in his valve made itself known and Megatron bowed his head, feeling ill, knowing what had happened while he had been in stasis. When Prime said he needed a genetic imprint he had no idea that was what he had meant. Slowly he reached down to touch the source of the pain, flinching violently at the contact and coming away with energon stained fingers.
Prime had broken his seal, doing a crude job of it, the first to ever breach the Warlord and he hadn’t even the finesse to make sure the breaching hadn’t done any damage.
No wonder Optimus had left so fast, he was probably mortified.
Megatron certainly would be if he had ever failed so spectacularly at interfacing.
Gingerly he stood, groaning at the pain in his valve, steadying himself on the medical berth. The sick seep of fluids from his valve turned his tanks. He quickly found a discarded rag and cleaned the area as best he could, throwing the cloth away in disgust the moment he was done.
Once had had collected himself Megatron took stock of his surroundings. This wasn’t the room he had been in when he had woke the first time. He had been transported while in stasis.
The room was bare of everything but the basics. A simple medical berth, a locker of some sort, a stack of energon cubes and a basic computer system that Megatron would have bet any amount of credits was useless as a communication device. He decided to give it a try anyways.
As he expected it was a basic system with no access to any cybertronian networks save for a single comm link that was labeled as ‘Optimus Prime’. He was able to connect to the human network but Optimus’ command earlier made it impossible for him to use the connection to even attempt to contact his Decepticons. Even the thought of disobeying the orders made his processor ache.
No matter. An opportunity would present itself. He could be patient.
As much as it pained him to have been so thoroughly and completely trapped he would not admit to defeat until his spark was cold and dead in his chest. If there was a way out he would find it.
Megatron left the console, moving slowly so as not to aggravate his injuries, and headed towards the locker. That proved as useless as the computer, being filled with a variety of cloths, polishes and various data pads that, upon closer inspection, were nothing more than useless entertainments.
There was nothing more to see, this room was useless. It was time to see the landscape of his new prison.
He shuffled to the door. It opened automatically and he was momentarily blinded by the contrast of his dim prison and the blazing light of the outdoors.
His pedes sank slightly into the grass as he took his first step into the outdoors, taking in the seemingly boundless expanse of green.
As prisons went it was a bit more luxurious than he had been anticipating.
A field of rich green grass spread out beyond the walls of his prison cell, the contrast of green and the horizon of clear blue momentarily sent his frayed processor reeling. Such sights were impossible on Cybertron, the colours and the scope was alien to him. Though he had been on this planet for several months he had not gotten used to some of the finer points of living on an alien planet and his recent traumas only seemed to make the alien landscape that much more unpleasant. If he was to be perfectly honest, Earth disturbed him. He longed for the hard metal and symmetry of Cybertron. This planet was disorderly and chaotic and so terribly fragile. It didn’t sit well with him, a mech who valued strength and order above all else.
He took another step and surveyed the landscape. To the right was an area that looked like forest, to his left, a continuation of green field that he suspected led to water. He recalled Optimus saying he couldn’t leave the island. Water could prove an opportunity for escape if he could find a way to override that command.
Though he wasn’t familiar with humans climates he suspected he was still quite close to the Americas as the landscape and temperature seemed to indicate this was neither a tropical location nor a frigid environment.
Soundwave would know. He wished his Third was with him, Soundwaves advice was invaluable and of all the mechs in his command Soundwave was likely more familiar than any Decepticon with earth and its geography.
If only he could get a message to Soundwave.
His processor ached at the thought of disobeying a direct order.
Megatron grit his dentas, a low rumble making his displeasure known to no one but himself.
As long as he was trapped here he would be patient and wait for an opportunity, he trusted enough in Soundwave to know his loyal Third was searching for him.
All he needed was patience.
***
That night he dreamed. He dreamed of being tied down, humans were crawling all over him, getting under his armour and planting grass in his joints, tiny little creatures eating him from the inside out, turning him into a nest of organic life.
He tried to scream but the grass muffled his vocalizer, growing and growing until he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Roots twisted inside his frame and a tree sprouted from his mouth, growing up and up, its roots breaking him apart from the inside.
“Just relax, it will be over soon,” said Prime from above him, thrusting forward.
Megatron woke with a shout, rolling into a battle ready position, vents heaving and frame shaking with the force of the energon coursing through his lines.
Everything was dark.
He quickly left the small transport container that Optimus had left behind as his living quarters, escaping into the field. The sight of the grass in the moonlight made him slightly nervous so he picked up his pace and headed to where he knew the coastline was from his earlier exploration.
It only took a few kliks before the sound of waves reached his audials.
The sand beneath his pedes shifted, throwing has balance off. He didn’t care. He moved forward, closer to the water, then into the surf. Further and further until the compulsion to obey stopped him.
He stood hip deep in water, feeling the sting of his valve and the ache in his struts as the water writhed around him.
In the middle of the night with only the cold ocean as witness Megatron screamed.
***
It had been a deca-Cycle since his captivity began. Megatron had thoroughly explored every inch of the island, an island he had decided to name The Pit. Despite its name The Pit wasn’t all that bad, it was expansive enough for him to move freely and the local wildlife was varied and interesting. The caves were particularly interesting, enormous structures that required steady nerves and daring to reach as they could only be found by scaling down the sheer cliff face on the northwestern edge of The Pit where the winds and waves were strongest.
Megatron took the journey on his second week, gladly meeting the challenge of the organic world.
The caves themselves were a marvel, carved by ages of being pounded by the surf and the wind into vast caverns that Megatron had taken to residing in. He found them to be as close to Cybertron as the natural organic world seemed to allow. His feet held a steady ground and the size of the caves made him feel … normal, as though he weren’t a giant lumbering around in a miniature world.
It was when returning from the caves on his first deca-cycle that a searing pain hit him, midway up the cliff face an agony unlike anything he had felt in his existence seemed to come over him, nearly making him lose his grip on the slippery rocks.
Megatron groaned in pain, pressing his helm against the stone and riding it out, wishing his hands weren’t occupied, wishing he could curl up against the pain. Instead he was stuck between safety and certain death, unable to simply end it because of the slave compulsion yet unable to continue to safety for the continuous pain that nearly crippled him.
When it passed Megatron quickly scaled to the top, resting on the grass, exhausted.
The pain lingered, now a mild ache that was easy to ignore.
What caused the pain, he didn’t know. Ever since that first day he had been continuously plagued by aches and pains and a lingering fatigue that frustrated the mech who was used to being at top physical peak.
A small part of him hoped it was a sign of his eventual death, a larger part of him hoped not, he wanted revenge too much to die before killing Prime.
It was only the thought of revenge that kept him from falling into a maddened rage.
Later that day when he returned to his living container he found it had been restocked with energon and entertainment data pads. A few comforts had been added, cleaning solvents that Megatron gladly put to use as soon as he found them and what looked like a paintbrush and paints along with two canvases.
Megatron immediately shoved them into the back of the locker.
When he was free he would be sure to gouge out Primes optics with the brushes he had so kindly provided.
***
Megatron added a hint of green to the canvas. Though the water here was more often than not a murky grayish black, today was different, the water reflecting many colours Megatron would not have expected.
His claws were speckled with paint but he found it easier to get details right with the tips of his claws. The brushes were only good for adding bold stokes, the finer details were best left to deft claws.
Once he was done with this he would paint it over and start again.
He didn’t feel any great sentimental attachment to his work. It was merely a way to pass the time.
***
The Nemesis passed overhead. He only caught a small glimpse of the ship between the clouds but Megatron would know his ship anywhere.
Primus but he longed to shout and scream and wave his servos about to get their attention but he couldn’t, all he could do was stare at the spot where his ship had been and wonder if they had seen him. Surely not or they would have stopped, either to rescue him or for Starscream to gloat.
Freedom was so close and it had passed him by. It was the first time in an orbital cycle of captivity that Megatron allowed despair to take him.
He sank to his knees, letting his helm to bow until it rested on the soft grass. His claws flexed into the earth, gouging it and he simply gave into his depression.
He was not a creature given to emotional displays and even with not a soul to witness his shame this held true. He stayed like that until the sky went dark and all hope of rescue or escape seemed like a distant dream.
***
The seals were his favorite creatures on The Pit. They were charming in their own way, despite his initial disgust at the soft bags of blubber.
They loved him, he tolerated them.
He was chest deep in the water and the seals swarmed him, picking at his armour where tiny sea creatures darted in and out of the seams in his armour.
When this had first happened Megatron had shouted and flailed and hadn’t returned to the water for an orbital cycle. The thought of organics inside of him was enough to make his plates lock up involuntarily but eventually he came around. While he didn’t enjoy it and never would it didn’t repulse him as much as it once had and he had even found a use for it.
The solvents Optimus continually supplied couldn’t get into the creases in his armour like a full sonic shower could and so he had found his armour becoming uncomfortably sticky around his joints and in his back plates. The salt water of the sea and the tiny creatures served to loosen the grime. As long as he thoroughly rinsed with fresh water and solvents after being in the sea the tiny creatures were beneficial.
The seals were a bonus. As much as he attempted to remain aloof their playful antics and complete lack of fear slowly won him over.
They darted between his pedes and he lightly brushed their slippery hides with the tips of his claws, careful not to injure them.
It was the small pleasures he had come to rely on when he felt hopeless or when the terrible agony returned.
The seals were a small pleasure and one that he delighted in.
***
He lay in the sun, half submerged in water, unable and unwilling to move. He was exhausted for reasons unknown. His tanks felt like they were going to expel at any moment and was experiencing a near constant vertigo. The sun warmed his plates and the coolness of the water on his midsection was a balm to the lingering and unending pain.
Fear was all he knew these days. Fear of what was happening to him. Fear of dying alone and forgotten. Fear of living and spending the rest of his days as a prisoner of this island.
He whimpered softly when a particularly painful burst in his midsection had him doubled over.
What was happening to him?
Was this Primes doing?
Was it a virus or something he had caught from this accursed organic planet?
His vents hurt from the strain of pumping so much air through his overheating systems.
He offlined his optics and breathed.
The pain was manageable.
He would live through this as he had lived through every pain and struggle he had encountered in his long life.
A part of him suspected that he was already dead and this was his eternal punishment.
***
It was a stellar cycle into his captivity that found Megatron sitting in the midst of the vast woods that covered a small section of The Pit. He rarely came to the woods but he felt the need for some shelter. He couldn’t reach the caves these days as the pain had taken to striking at random times the past few solar cycles, coming in bursts of sharp pain that had Megatron on his knees, crying out. The longer this kept up the longer the pain lasted and the more frequently it happened.
So he took the walk into the forest, found a spot that seemed ideal, in the shelter of a titanic tree that had been uprooted long before he had come to the island. There was a hollow big enough to fit Megatron and the vast system of roots provided a good shelter.
The next few joor saw him carefully and meticulously gathering branches and various foliage and creating a covering for the hollow.
He wasn’t certain what strange compulsion led him to do this but he felt a deep need to see this project completed.
Despite the growing busts of agony that had him crawling at points he didn’t stop until he had cleared the dirt in and around the hollow and set up a covered shelter big enough to house himself without being seen from the outside.
I was a fine shelter though his critical eye would have liked for something a bit more substantial than organic materials.
The sun was setting by the time he had completed his task and entered the shelter.
It was well into the night or early morning when the screams began.
Every animal in the woods stilled and were afraid as pained bellows sounded out through the forest. As time passed the bellows became cries and finally hoarse shrieks of pain.
Megatron moaned, clutching his midsection and wishing for death. Anything was preferable to this torture. Worse than the pain was the uncertainty. As time passed he became sure that he was not dying but he couldn’t fathom what was wrong with him.
He would be in incredible agony and his body would seize up only to have a brief respite before the pain returned.
It seemed never-ending. His pedes dug into the soft dirt and in a moment of pure instinct he heaved himself up, kneeling, shivering uncontrollably as coolant oozed from the seams of his armour.
Something was trying to claw its way out of him. Primus, was this how he was to die?
Megatron dug his claws into the ground and screamed as a powerfully crippling pain ripped through him, involuntarily offlining his optics.
He felt his interface panel click and slide open, exposing his valve.
He was so afraid. His body was performing actions beyond his control. He felt like he was being taken over, subjected to a will not his own.
Another scream pierced the silent forest and Megatron pushed, trying to expel the source of his pain.
The agony peaked and he let out a pained sob as something slid out of him. He collapsed on his side, panting and heaving and shaking.
A small sound reached his audials and he unconsciously felt around for the thing that had escaped his body. It was small and wet. He didn’t care, grabbing it and hauling the small wet thing to his chest.
Distantly he was aware of a hardline connection being formed but he was too exhausted to care.
The last thing he was aware of was curling protectively around the small wet thing and a new line of code coming into being with the words: ‘Creator Protocols Activated’.
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