Crack in the Pavement
Dark shit this way comes! Read at your own risk!
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.
Summary: Megatron uses Ironhide to get his revenge on Prime. Multiple minor side pairings, see list in fic.
Warning: Graphic rape. Torture. M/M robot slash consensual as well as NON-CON
Pairings: Non-con Megatron/ Ironhide, Con Optimus/ Ironhide. Established Jazz/ Prowl, Twins/ Ratchet, Mirage/ Cliffjumper
The first thing that told Ironhide something was wrong, was the distinct lack of sound as he came online. Ratchet's medbay hummed with activity. Actually, it screamed with it. The Autobots were not quiet patients, not the ones that got injured most often, and Ratchet was not a quiet medic. And his shoulders and wrists hurt. He could feel that he was hanging by his arms. Dread made Ironhide's circuits cold as he opened his optics.
"Excellent," Megatron said. "Did you have a pleasant recharge? It will be the last fluxeless rest you ever have."
"Slagger," Ironhide roared when he saw Megatron. "What's goin' on. Where am I?"
"You're in my chamber," Megatron said. "And you are here because I've decided to keep you as a pet."
"Slagger, I ain't yer pet," Ironhide snarled.
"Such insolence," Megatron sneered. He walked around Ironhide. Before the Autobot could say anything else, he sprawled forward, hanging totally limp as the thrash of an electrowhip tore across his back.
"Slagger, I'll never tell you anything," Ironhide promised. "I'll blast you to the Pit!"
"I don't need or want you to tell me anything," Megatron said. "Your screams will suffice."
Megatron thrashed him again, and again. Ironhide clenched his denta and did all that he could not to scream. In between lashes, he cursed Megatron, his creator, his ancestors. He did not scream. He did groan and grimace as too many lashes tore through his back and aft. Whenever he had the voice, he mocked Megatron in whatever way he could. A chime interrupted Megatron's attack, the tyrant growled angrily.
"Cupcakes ready ta come out of the oven?" Ironhide asked. There was a hiss of pain in his voice. Megatron didn't answer with words. Instead he ripped his servo through a deep gash near the centre of Ironhide's back and tore whatever wires he could grasp, out. Then he stepped back around Ironhide, watching the Autobot tremble as his body began to disobey him. He stood there for a long moment, basking in his work.
"Wipe that smirk off yer slagging face," Ironhide ordered, standing up as straight as he could. "Before I rip it off."
The electrowhip cut the air with a load hiss and hit connected across Ironhide's chassis. Ironhide swore. Sensors around his windshield warned of its damage. Megatron grinned in a predatory fashion. He stepped towards Ironhide, the whip still in his servo, when the doors opened.
"Lord Megatron, I don't suppose you've gone deaf and cannot hear the chime?" Starscream said as he took half a step into the room. "What in Primus's name... What was the point of me repairing him, as you so ardently demanded, if you were only going to damage the Autobot more?"
"Silence!" Megatron demanded and he lashed the whip at Starscream, barely missing his SIC. "How dare you interrupt me!"
"Why Glorious Megatron," Starscream said, the first signs of anxiety echoed in his high voice. "I only came to warn you that the Coneheads have encountered a complication in their latest mission. If you would prefer I tend to it myself..."
"You would like that wouldn't you, Starscream," Megatron sneered. He let the whip drag along the ground, crackling as it went, as he approached the Seeker. "No I will deal with the Conehead Trine."
He wasn't certain but Ironhide thought he saw Starscream frown as he gave Ironhide a once over. The Autobot snarled, and Starscream left Megatron's chambers a step before the Decepticon tyrant. Ironhide allowed his head to hang for a moment. His optics blurred a little as he stared at the broken glass of his chassis and the energon oozing from the gash and crawling down his leg.
Ironhide fought to find his centre of balance. Each time he managed to find balance on the very tips of his pedes, a flash of pain from one of his tormented circuits or panels would make him shake and inevitably he would lose that meagre balance and once again come to hang from his wrists, his shoulder joints screaming, and not even a wall to lean back against. His intakes hummed desperately, nearly all of his systems were overheating and Ironhide gasped, trying to draw just a little more air into his coolant system. He needed to find his pedes, hanging limp by his arms was not an option. It wasn't even that it hurt, and it did, it was that Ironhide would never give Megatron the satisfaction.
Megatron's electrowhip had torn long gashes through his armour, and even cut into the delicate panelling beneath. Ironhide felt hazy. He'd lost count after the first 20 or so lashes, all had bled down his body and formed a pool at his pedes. The slippery pool made it all that much harder for Ironhide to balance. His intakes whirled rapidly again and he gasped desperately. He was beginning to shake. Spasms rippled down his back where Megatron had reached his great black hand in and torn wires out from him. Sensory echoes stabbed through him over the constant burn of the lashes. Megatron had torn out some of the vital wires that carried communication between his processor and legs. It was no wonder his legs seemed the bow and shake on their own. It was so hard to keep his balance, or even find it but Ironhide refused to give up. He shuttered his optics and focused on his pedes. Taking some of his weight off of his aching shoulders would redoubtably reduce the alarms echoing in his processor.
He didn't understand what Megatron wanted. If he didn't want codes, or Autobot locations, why keep him captive? Why keep him captive, hanging from the ceiling, in what seemed to be Megatron's own quarters? None of this made any sense to the old warrior and he was torn between wanting desperately to know, or to not know.
Breathing hurt and Ironhide wished his coolant system would recover enough so he could stop choking down air. The windshield on his chassis was cracked like a spider's web and every intake of air hurt that much more. Energon continued to drip in a thin trail from his chassis, following the seams of his armour, and down the inside of his legs before it ran down into the slowly growing pool. He would not die of energon depletion, the loss was too slow, and it would not be much longer before his internal repairs system stemmed the flow. Still, what a sight he must have been, hanging there by his arms, knees knocking together, and trails of purple energon painting fine lines down his front and back.
"Looked everywhere," Sunstreaker said, racing into the medbay where Optimus waited with Prowl as Jazz was being repaired. "I couldn't find him. It's like he vanished."
"Jazz will be back online in a moment," Ratchet said. "Maybe he saw something."
"We can only hope," Optimus said. He frowned, looking down as if watching Ratchet work but seeing nothing. Ironhide had been right beside him one moment and then gone the next. They'd been knock down by the same violent explosion that had rendered Jazz offline. He'd lost sight of Ironhide in the dust and debris, and then he was gone. They'd all hoped he might have been knocked offline, and they would find him, but Optimus knew in his spark that the Decepticons had to have him.
"Anyone get the license plate of the car that hit me?" Jazz asked weakly as he slowly came back online. Prowl reached out to him, linking his servo with that of his mate's.
"Jazz," Prowl said as he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Prowler," Jazz said and smiled. He shuttered his optics again before they flew open and he sat up with a violent jolt. "Ironhide! Optimus, the 'Cons made off with Ironhide!"
"Easy, Jazz," Optimus said as he watched Ratchet and Prowl force the special ops mech back onto the berth. "What did you see?"
"He was offline," Jazz said. "They tossed him into Astrotrain and flew off. I couldn't move. I couldn't stop them!"
"It's not your fault, Jazz," Optimus said. "You were badly damaged yourself."
"I'm sorry," Jazz whispered.
"No," Optimus interrupted. "This was not your fault."
"He needs to rest," Ratchet said. "I've stabilized his systems and reattached his arm, but he'll need a few cycles before he's fully operational."
"Understood," Optimus said. "Prowl, stay with him until he enters recharge. Then come find me."
"Yes, sir," Prowl said. He knelt down close to Jazz's head, still holding his mate's servo.
Optimus left them alone, and retreated to his office. 'Hide. Whatever Megatron was planning, they would overcome it and get Ironhide back. He poured himself a cube but didn't drink it. The Decepticons had stolen 'Hide from right in front of him, and he hadn't seen or heard them. Jazz hadn't failed Ironhide, he had.
A few hours previous
"Repair the Autobot, Starscream," Megatron ordered. "Then place him in the interrogation room."
"But there's nothing in there yet," Starscream replied, remembering the room only just been completed in this new base. "Other than some chains."
"Silence, you worm," Megatron roared. "Do as I command."
"Yes, Lord Megatron," Starscream squeaked his deference to the tyrant's will.
The Constructicons had deposited Ironhide on the workbench in Starscream's lab. The Seeker ventured over to examine the mech. Megatron's new, and very much so already destroyed weapon, had done some damaged, and this had only been shrapnel from it. It was a good thing that it hadn't held together or Starscream would likely have been its next target.
Hadn't Megatron learnt anything from that escapade with the medic? And Ironhide? Did he really believe he would get anything from Prime's closest companion? Clearly, Megatron was delusional. But that was normal. Starscream sucked air through his systems, and began his exam. He almost expected Ironhide to snap up and tear his faceplates off, but upon seeing the full extent of the damage, he was reassured that the Autobot would be offline for quite some time.
Large swatches of Ironhide's armour had been blown clear away, and the circuitry it had protected had melted into a mess of short-fuses and scorched metal. Starscream swore and grumbled. He had far better things to do with his time than rewire an Autobot, but Megatron had become crazed since Ratchet's escape, and Starscream had a strong desire to keep his own protoform intact. With the great care, Starscream peeled away ruined circuits and fuses, clamped and cut melted tubing and was relieved to note that it was all standard design. No special parts in this old rust bucket. That was something of a relief.
Running around his lab in search for each part was time consuming and tedious, but his trinemates had disappeared after the battle. And what good were they anyway? They didn't know a fuse from a cord. It had been a long time since he'd had any good help. He banished the wistful thought with a harsh curse. Wire, fuse, sodder. Starscream repeated the thought and action over again as needed until the thought of his old lab partner was buried under the tedium of repairs.
Hours later, Starscream stepped back and examined his work. He'd been thorough, even painted the new armour segments to match the rest of Ironhide's paint. The only thing now was to transfuse energon and coolant into Ironhide and he should be online in seconds. There was no way Starscream was doing that here. He summoned the Constructicons and ordered them to carry the prisoner to the interrogation room as ordered by Megatron. The tyrant was waiting for them.
Megatron gave Ironhide a careful once over before nodding his approval of Starscream's repairs, and he preceded to attach energy cuffs to Ironhide's wrists and and with the controller in his servo, raised the Autobot up until he was hanging with his peds just barely dragging along the ground.
"Replenish his systems then get out."