The Mighty Never Fall
They crash. I don't own Transformers. I have enough stuff already.
His slivery metal skin glittered in the sun, even as he lay at the bottom of the crevasse covered with patches of dust. His Fusion cannon lay near his side, though no longer attached to his arm. Megatrons prone form hadn't moved since he hit the ground. A large crack ran through the center of his left optic, and matched the gash on his cheek and brow. A large wound in his side slowly leaked into the small stream that flowed around him, tinting the water pink. He had seen worse injuries, but he had always escaped Autobot imprisonment to be repaired by one of his Decepticons. That wasn't the case this time.
"Put the bonds on him first. I don't want his systems to reboot in the middle of the ride back up," Ironhide instructed Trailbreaker as he pulled the Decepticons arm free from fallen boulders and put it behind his back. "His feet too."
"Don't you think that's excessive?" Sideswipe said as he retrieved the cannon and tried to attach it to his arm.
"Nothing is too excessive when it comes to Megatron," Ironhide chided.
"Well, I don't want to carry him. He doesn't deserve it," the red Lamborghini said as he began to pose like the fallen Decepticon leader.
"Don't play with that thing or you'll have to carry us all back up," Trailbreaker said as he and Ironhide dragged the limp body to Optimus Prime's waiting cage. (As seen in The Core.) The two held the body between them, the gruff old warrior with the upper torso and Trailbreaker with the legs. The ride down was the easy part, the trip back up promised to be more worrisome. Not only could Megatron revive but the uneven walls of the canyon could fray the cord that pulled them to safety and send them plummeting to the bottom with more injuries than before.
Despite the small number of occupants, it was a tight fit for the transport. The top of the cage hit jutting rocks and made everything sway unsteadily. The passenger had to perform a balancing act of kinds. As their heads peeked over the edge of the cliff, they relaxed a moment. At the top waited a large group of Autobots with weapons at the ready. The sight of Megatron, most powerful and despised, yet unconscious, sent a ripple of joy through the ranks. The capture of Megatron could mean the end of the war. A conflict many had joined because no other option was left open to them. But now, with this turn of fate, rememberences of Cybertron past drifted through many of their minds.
Fluid dripped down Ironhides legs as he carried the larger Transformer out of the transport. The two waddled quickly into Primes waiting trailer. After a fast scan and patch job by Ratchet, Megatron was chained to the back wall of Prime's trailer by the upper arms and waist, still unconscious by the time the Autobots began to roll for home.
"Good work everyone," Prime spoke through the radio, a hint of joy and pride crept into his voice, "But we aren't out of danger yet. The Decepticons may try to rescue Megatron as we return to base. Powerglide, patrol our airspace. Hound and Red Alert, keep your sensors open for Decepticons. Blaster, monitor their known radio waves. I don't want any surprises."
It was a strange feeling, not being able to activate his own body. Each time Megatron tried to move his arm from behind his back, it stubbornly refused to budge. An ache developed in his shoulders that would put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day, not that he wasn't in a foul mood already. His mind, despite his most fervent wishes, had a tendency to recall every muffed point of the operation: Starscreams questioning and insubordination to minor flaws with the energy collector. Megatron played through it all until he couldn't remember any more. The last he could recall was a fall. His mind searched for details, only to come up short. The Decepticons were retreating with only half the predicted amount of Energon cubes.
The Autobots continued to fire as the Decepticons retreated. Had he been shot? Where? Then a very nasty thought came to him: where was he at the moment? He brought his audios online and was greeted by a loud roaring. Not an unexpected noise when traveling through the air. Or on the road, he thought bitterly. His visuals were more of a problem. Read-outs showed his left optic would be offline until repaired by Soundwave, and the other needed a few moments to fix the minor damage sustained by the crash. He didn't like what he saw when it sparked into action.
He knew he was on a bumpy road by the way his head lulled and the other occupants bounced. He was in the trailer of Prime being guarded by not one, but four Autobots. The only one that concerned him was Grimlock. At the moment, however, no one paid him much attention. He'd been offline for sometime if they were relaxed near his unconscious form. The crash must have done more damage than he previously suspected. Then he remembered the crevasse. He hadn't just fallen from the sky to flat ground, but tumbled and hit jagged rocks as he bounced off walls then landed on a pile of limestone.
He cursed silently to himself. Firstly, the Autobots for ruining his plan and their audacity to take him prisoner; Megatron, tyrant of Cybertron, destroyer of worlds. Secondly, he raged against his troops that didn't have the courage, skill, or loyalty to retrieve his body. Thirdly, this miserable world for having such useless formations as canyons, creeks and rocks. He did have one advantage at the moment: no one had noticed his reactivation. If he planned correctly he could use the situation to escape, but only if things went his way for a change.
He switched his optics off and surveyed the list of damages. Energy was low, nothing surprising there. His audios received auto repairs first to track the conversation of the Autobots; as well as some circuits that controlled movement and flight in preperation. Sharp pains assaulted him each time a bump or dip came in the road, most painful of all was the large gash in his side that someone patched hastily.
Time dragged on and Megatron could feel his patience running low. Why did Autobots have to drive so slow? How could they stand it, being locked to the earth by gravity and lack of flight? Not even small talk, exchanged between his guards, could distract him from the drone of the road under tires and many hours stretched in front of him.
After an eternity, he could feel Optimus slow and finally stop. Orders from Prime echoed through the trailer. Megatron tensed for an instant, and forced himself to relax as hands released him from the wall.
"Grimlock, grab him under the shoulders. I'll get his feet," Ironhide ordered as he pulled Megatrons feet into the air, and shifted the bulk for a moment to adjust the weight of the Decepticon leader. An unrestrained shiver of disgust ran through Megatron. The Autobots paused, after the sudden movement. "Inferno, get Ratchet."
He was surprisingly fast for a Decepticon with so many wounds. His leg shackles broke with a satisfying snap as Megatron kicked his legs apart, then clamped them around Ironhide's neck. The steel protecting his vocal components crumpled, crushing the circuitry within. Megatron braced his upper body on the floor and his left leg on Ironhide's shoulder. With his right leg he hit the Autobots head with such force that the red warrior immediately tumbled to the floor. Not that Megatron fell any more gracefully. A loud crash echoed out to the anxious crowd, followed by a roar of pain. Waves of agony shot through injuries as Megatron lay on his back, trying to pull his thoughts from the pain.
Grimlock appeared in his line sight next. The Dinobot reached for the smaller Transformer. Dragged to his feet by the shoulders, Megatron spun to face him, and delivered a headbutt to the unsuspecting Dinobot. Grimlock recovered quickly, grabbed the head on his torso and kneed the Decepticon. Megatron reeled with the strength of the blow, the bridge of his nose dented. He stumbled back a few steps into the arms of two other Dinobots. Each grabbed an arm tightly, crumpling the metal. He struggled furiously until Prime arrived to take charge of the situation. Foreign hands forced his head down, more strapped bonds to his feet.
He bucked and thrashed, threw his weight in every possible direction. His feet dragged so the Autobots had to carry his massive load. Not surprisingly, they dropped him on his face. A roar of disgust and anger froze the Autobots nearest. He writhed and struggled to regain his feet, and finally managed to his knees when the Autobots sprung on him again. He spared no one from his curses, even his own Decepticons were not exempt. As the large group of Autobots stumbled out of Prime's trailer pulling an enraged Megatron with them, another crowd of Autobots gathered at the entrance of the base.
A murmur ran through the waiting ranks. It was a day many had fantasized about, that many of their friends hadn't lived to see. This was the day they could tell future generations about with pride, the fall of the Mighty Megatron.
Megatron wanted to scream and never stop. He wanted the Autobots to stop touching him, forcing his head down, holding his chains like they were his master. Never! He would never let that happen. Phrases and pleas for freedom and repentance ricocheted through his mind, each squashed as momentary weakness. Bids for freedom took any form, and he was willing to try them all.
Something scuffed his leg and dragged him out of his fruitless thoughts. He glared at the small yellow Autobot retreating back into the crowd defiantly. He would make the little bug live to regret the audacity of his actions.
Guards led him quickly through the halls to the deepest, most secure location in the base: solidary confinement. Normally occupied by the most troublesome, it was now empty, cleared of personnel to hold the downed Decepticon leader. He as shoved unceremoniously into a cell, and quickly locked in.
He wasted no time, and broke his bonds once he was placed in his cell under close observation. With no one to lash out at, he directed his violent attentions to every of his prison. His fingers dug into the metal panels and ripped. Screams as metal tore apart and screws sprang from their places mingled with protracted growls and grunts of frustration. Each panel he tore into strips and flung aside, clattering into random piles.
Ragged edges cut into his fingers and palms. Energon seeped down his forearms and splattered to the floor, mixed with hydraulic fluids. A roar of impotent rage accompanied the steady pounding as Megatron punched the floor in order to pull up as much of it as he could.
As his rage subsided he leaned against the stripped back wall and slid down. All he had energy for was thought. Who would come for him? Soundwave would probably organize something, though the Autobots would expect that. Starscream would plot against the action and convince others it was a fruitless endevour. It all depended on who could be convinced. He shook his head. If any of them knew what was good for them, they would already be on their way.
Metal paneling of his cell lay strewn around him. He picked up the largest mangled and bent it back into its original shape. Once smoothed, he curved and molded it into a squarish shape of Cybertron. For the large space bridge tower, he tore strips and punched them into the metal. He did the same for Darkmount's battlements and Iacon's toppled obelisk. Soon the twisted bits of metal around him began to migrate from the floor to the Cybertronic globe. The torn underbelly of the planet was replicated by small spikes and layers of former floor. To finish the basics of the project, he mounted the globe on his index digit, placed his other hand firmly on the side and spun.
Footsteps outside his door barely registered before the light of his cell went out. Two blue optics appeared in the small observation window of the door, the viewers head blocked most light from the hall.
"Nighty night, Megatron," sing-songed a familiar voice that, if he tried hard enough, sounded faintly like Starscream.
He growled in response and spun his globe again, noting the tiny reflections that bounced around the walls from his creation. He would shine it tomorrow, if the Autobots gave him energy.
As Megatrons systems powered up out of rest mode, his one functional optic immediately fixed on the Energon cube just inside his side of the door. Whoever left it was probably afraid to wake him. A cruel smirk crawled across his face as he slunk toward the door, his strength almost gone. He downed half the cube and set the rest aside for later, mildly surprised the Autobots decided to give him any at all.
The second day of captivity crept passed as he polished each surface of the Cybertronian model with a cloth he found in his subspace pocket. The third day he found another cube of Energon, then added more details to his project. The fourth day was as tiresome and bland as the days previous. By the fifth day he was ready for something to happen. He had stewed long enough, most of his systems were functioning properly, though the long wound in his side couldn't close itself and his cracked optic needed special attention in order to work.
His globe sat in a far corner, polished and detailed down to windows and streets. He had just buffed his legs when his cell door slid open. Optimus Prime stood in the doorway, arms at his sides, looking tired and worn. To either side stood one of the Lamborghini brothers, weapons in hand. Megatron looked up briefly then returned his attention to his legs.
"Take him to interrogation room one," Prime ordered and allowed Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to move into the room. Megatron stood and calmly allowed himself to be lead away.
"You look harassed Prime," Megatron goaded. When the Autobot leader didn't respond, Megatron continued, "What could be causing you such trouble?"
"Human governments that want you dead," Sideswipe blurted venomously. Sunstreaker snorted, Prime still remained silent.
Prime entered the room first, followed by Megatron, as the twins stayed outside. Inside, Ironhide and Prowl waited. A high backed chair with arms sat at one end of the room, next to a small surgical table covered with various instruments.
"If you will take a seat, then we may begin," Prowl directed a sweeping arm toward the chair. With all the deliberance of a leader, Megatron crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at the seat as if it offended him.
"Force will be used, if necessary," Prowl said coldly, his optics fixed on Megatrons towering figure.
"Prove it, Autobot wretch," Megatron spat, tensing himself for another bid for freedom. An instant later a resounding knock resounded around the chamber. Three Dinobots entered, and nearly filled the room.
"Secure the prisoner," Prowl ordered and backed away into the wall. Though injured, Megatron was still agile enough to spring away from Sludge and Slag. Grimlock, however, always offered a challenge. Though Megatron dodged out of two of the Dinobots reach, Grimlock seized one of the Decepticons wrist. After a moment of struggling he was pinned to the wall, and strapped roughly to the interrogation chair.
Optimus nodded briskly to the Dinobots as they filed out and Ratchet strode in. A frown grew as he moved closer to the arranged instruments, grumbling. The Medical Officer kept his gaze down and moved about his task with disgust. His tools arranged, he turned to Optimus.
"I'm only doing this under orders. If I wasn't afraid that you'd ask someone else, someone more innocent, to do this, then I would vehemently oppose this course of action," Ratchet said with a glare of disappointment and resentment.
"Even your own officers resist you, Prime. How can you ever expect to hold me?" Megatron jeered.
"If I've ever met someone who deserves torture, it would be you," Ratchet spat back, still turned toward Prime. "I'm only doing this to protect the others."
A moment of silence passed, the will of each occupant tested by spoken and unspoken morals.
"If there are no more arguments, then proceed," Optimus said breaking into the musings of others.
When Megatron later looked back on the time he spent in that locked room, he could never say precisely how long they tried to pull information out of him. Each second was an hour stretched and twisted by the delicate torture of Prime and his officers. Each question was a lash, tipped with barbs tearing at his body and pride. His pride, there was never a time when his pride had been more injured or trampled. Every tiny atom of his body ached between surges of pain that ripped through him.
He could feel himself breaking, like a long fissure opened inside him and spread with each second, aided by a boiling temper. Why had his Decepticons not come for him? Where was Soundwave and his unwavering loyalty? Or his Seekers? Where were his troops as he suffered? Safe. They were safe, while he writhed in torment. If they were safe at the moment then he would allow them one more chance to free him.
It was a simple task to think of false information to feed the Autobots, his worries lay in his ability to make them believe. If he convinced them of his sincerity, then, if nothing else, the torture would stop. His next scream startle Ratchet so badly he nearly flung his instrument across the room. The medic clutched his front windshield as he backed away quickly to allow Optimus and Prowl to move forward. Megatron poured skillfully lies from his mouth into the audios of the eager Autobots, accentuated by grimaces and feeble failing. Once enough misinformation slipped away, he was returned to his cell.
Megatron stumbled to the farthest corner, where he collapsed to the floor. A blinding ache tore thru his body, as he begged himself to shut down, if only to stop the throbbing pain, but rest never came for Megatron. His wounded pride, tortured body and swirling thoughts allowed him no respite. His warriors would come soon, if at all. And if they didn't? He pushed the question away. If they didn't, he knew he'd be given up to the human government and de-activated. A humiliated end. He bristled at the thought of it. Megatron, the terror of Cybertron, sunken low by defeat and his life ended by fleshlings.
Trapped in his cell, Megatron no longer cared what day it was, or the schemes that played outside of his world, shrunken down to three walls and a door. The pain stopped, though he knew the Autobots would find his lies soon enough. Caged as he was, they had him within reach at all times.
Then the noise started, as though the Autobot base was being emptied of all personnel. This was his chance, the last opportunity to escape. The open viewing window of his room revealed his only guard was the small red tank, ready to be crushed. He only had to wait until the other Autobots were far enough away to ensure his escape.
In an instant, it began. The thin glass that held him back from the rest of the world shattered with one hit. His arm thrashed as he forced it through the too small hole. The door screeched as it expanded to accommodate the large arm. His whole hand wrapped around and grasped Warpath's face, crushing slowly.
"Release me and I won't pull your head off, Autobot scum," Megatron twisted to emphasize his point as five long ridges deepened under his fingers. The Mini-bot hesitated a moment. "My warriors are coming. If you release me, you will not be killed."
The door jerked as it opened. He dropped of the small bot roughly, ripped his arm free and slid out. The Decepticon glanced down the hallway as the Mini-bot lay in a heap next to him. He knew which direction they had brought him from, but was unsure if it led outside.
An explosion rocked the base. Dust sprinkled his shoulders. Pounding feet echoed down distant corridors, coupled with shouts and laser fire. Megatrons heavy foot falls rang in his audios as he pelted down the hallway, tuned to the noise. Sounds of battle became louder until finally the distinctive voice of Rumble sounded around the corner. A strange feeling jumped into the former captives chest, one he had not felt for many years: jubilation, not from the idea of victory, or a new power source, but because he knew he held the loyalty of at least one being.
Megatron skidded around the last corner, but was immediately bowled over by a retreating Autobot. As he stood, Megatron lifted the body over his head and threw him into the nearest wall.
"Megatron! Soundwave come quick. Megatron's escaped," Rumble yelled down the corridor as Skywarp covered him. The tape turned to his leader with a large grin, "I've never been so glad to see you in my life."
"Who else is here?" Megatron demanded, kicking the deactivated Autobot away, in an attempt to ignore the comment.
"Everyone that we didn't use to distract the Autobots," Skywarp said as Soundwave rounded the corner. An almost unperceivable flicker crossed Soundwaves optic band.
"Time is short," the tape deck announced.
"My weapon," Megatron replied, unwilling to part with his most powerful armament.
"Ravage and Laserbeak are retrieving. Rendezvous in two minutes," Soundwave stood erect, waiting for his leader to give a command.
"Then take me to them," Megatron ordered, putting a hand on each Skywarp and Soundwaves shoulders; the way a father would to his creation. Though Skywarp was the only who smiled, Soundwave reciprocated the gesture by placing a hand on Megatrons forearm.
When the moment broke, the group was off down the corridor and shooting at anything that could shoot back. The rendezvous point, a spot on the rim of the mountain, offered rocks and shadows for a last stand, as well as a jumping point for the damaged to achieve flight. Megatrons party was the first to arrive, followed quickly by two groups of Constructicons and one consisted of Thundercracker, Frenzy and Blitzwing. As each set of rescuers arrived, they were sent on to the main fight that kept the bulk of the Autobot forces occupied. At last, Lazerbeak, burdened by the massive weight of Megatron's arm cannon, appeared with Ravage close behind.
Lazerbeak released the weapon into his leaders hands and returned to Soundwave's chest. With the skill of ages, the Decepticon leader attached it to his forearm, instantly feeling a security he had been denied. A small cluster of Autobots exited the base, looked wildly for the escaped Decepticon and his invaders, only to find him as they took to the sky.
As they left, he couldn't resist one last look at his would be prison, a chance to test his cannon. Yellow paint caught his eye. Whether it was the bug, or the twin, or even a bit of sun reflected off a polished arm; he didn't care. His target recoiled and crumpled as the shot hit dead center. A satisfying scream reverberated through the mountains. That would teach those filthy Autobots.
AN: I haven't written anything in a long time, so I'm kind of out of practice. This was inspired by the new Transformers movie, though not set in that universe. Any questions, comments, or suggestions are appreciated.