Transformers Prime: Through Bad and Through Worse

Chapter Eight

"Now, three of these energon cubes a day at the least, no straining movements, and be mindful of your middle, and your set," Sky Rocket set yet another stack of prescribed energon cubes on the table of the cell, Ratchet watching from the berth with mindful optics. She had brought supplies he'd need for the carrying process, up until the sparkling was born. Megatron accompanied her, but stood there silently, his gaze permanently rested on the carrying medic, not once did he turn his attention away.

Ratchet tried not to notice, but he did, kept his optics averted. Making contact with that beast was the last thing he wanted to do, at any point in time.

"Any questions?" Sky Rocket asked, stacking the last cubes on the table and turning to him.

Ratchet shook his helm.

"A'ight. See ya later." She left the cell, Megatron following in suit.

After they had exited and traveled a fair distance away from Ratchet's hearing range, Sky Rocket pivoted around to face Megatron, servos on her hips and an angry look on her faceplate.

"A'ight, Megs, I'm gonna say this once: That mech is carrying a sparkling. Have a little spark."

"To what do you refer?" Megatron raised an optic ridge.

Sky Rocket scoffed. "You think I haven't noticed the bruising on his neck cabling? The cut on his cheek? Megatron, your already being way too physical with him! Be gentle, for crying out loud! He's with sparkling... don't you feel anything as to what your doing to him?"

"Sky Rocket, enough." The warlord hissed, growing hostile. "I will refrain a little, but only because I respect your expertise as a medic." He stopped. Yesterday's visit, the one where he'd struck the medic, had given some sort of... lust to him. A lust for power. He wanted to beat the living spark out of that medic... but the sparkling...

'I want to harm him as much as possible, but the sparkling.. I'll just have to find another way to cause discomfort to him,' Megatron decided. "I'm going back to his cell," he stated, already lusting dominance and power by just thinking of harming the medic.

Sky Rocket didn't say anything.

The warlord turned on his heel and headed back to the cell, the lust for power now shining a dark glint in his optics, and it would stay there, for a thousand millennia.

~~

"Mega.... Lord, Megatron..." Ratchet stiffened as the warlord entered his cell, not having been gone for even five minutes. He wanted to hide his fear... he wanted to be confident, but he couldn't help but feel... intimidated.

Megatron didn't say anything, only approached the medic, who was sitting on the berth. As he neared, Ratchet stiffened and inched away a little. Soon he was towering over Ratchet, red optics shining in the dim light.

"Lord..... Megatron?" Ratchet murmured uncertainly, gazing up at him with concerned optics, his sparkbeat increasing.

A clawed servo slowly reached out to Ratchet.

Megatron rested his index digit, or rather his claw, on Ratchet's cheek, just below the optic, which was wide with fear. Slowly Megatron dragged his claw down Ratchet's cheek, leaving a thin and barely noticeable scratch. Ratchet tried not to flinch away, hiding his discomfort as best he could, as Megatron stroked his cheek with his claw, every touch lingering.

When Megatron reached the base of his cheek and went to stroke again, Ratchet jerked his helm away, sending the warlord a dark glare.

"Don't touch me." He growled. "Ever."

Megatron laughed a cruel and dark laugh, which echoed through the cell. "And what authority do you have to order me like so? Hmm?" Ratchet didn't answer, only turned his helm away in annoyance. The warlord reached and took Ratchet's chin in his servo, forcing their gazes to meet. "That's what I thought. Now, I want you on your best behavior for tomorrow."

"Orion won't fall for any of this!" Ratchet retorted, pulling his helm away from Megatron's grip.

"Ha! Do you really believe that?" The warlord snickered maliciously, his optics shining bright with a fierce glint, and an ambitious gleam. "Sad that he cares enough, really, I mean, who puts themselves that weak?"

Ratchet glared daggers at him with angry optics. "Bots who have souls." This drew a hiss of anger from Megatron, and the warlord pulled his arm back to strike him, fury written in his optics. Ratchet withdrew from him, curling in a little and anticipating the blow, his expression fearful.

Narrowing his optics, Megatron found himself unable to strike, oddly enough. His spark caught, between harming the medic and doing the right thing, he stood there, servo raised, staring at Ratchet with startled optics.

What am I doing? He deserves punishment! He silently told himself, but he couldn't do it, he just couldn't...

Ratchet gazed up at him, puzzled. "Megatron?" He stopped realizing he called the gladiator the wrong name, but didn't correct himself, not finding a reason to do so.

It took a few seconds for him to respond.

"I... I..." Megatron lowered his servo in defeat. "...Don't be that defiant again, alright?"

The medic gave a small nod.

"I won't be so kind next time." Regaining his ferocious touch, Megatron growled in a threatening tone. "I will strike you, understand?"

Ratchet stiffened and put a servo over his middle, optics wide with fear.

With a dark look on his faceplate, Megatron left the cell and stalked off, furious with himself.

He couldn't bring himself to physically harm the medic, the undefeated gladiator from the pits of Kaon, couldn't strike a captive medic. How embarrassing!

It's isn't matter though. Tomorrow, he would finally have revenge on Orion Pax.

But even he couldn't have imagined what lied ahead.