Hi! Here is my new short story, Disguises!
NOTE: This story was inspired by Skye1456's Torturous Insanity and Trapped and Prime627's Losing It, Broken, and Cities in Dust. These authors are amazing, and they deserve much, much more praise and credit for their wonderful works.
Title: Disguises.
Rating: M.
Summary: The war is over. The Autobots have won. The Decepticons are prisoners of war. But as they rot and fume in cells on the newly restored Cybertron, many horrors arise, and the Decepticons begin to wonder if they were wrong when they thought they were worse than the Autobots.
Characters: Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, Knock Out, Wheeljack, Optimus Prime, Rodimus Prime, Deadlock/Drift, Ratchet, and others.
Pairings: Drift/Rodimus, Prowl/Jazz, Knock Out/Wheeljack, Ratchet/Optimus Prime
Universe: Alternate Universe of Prime, Animated, and Generation One.
Warnings: Torture, Gore, Masochism, Sadism, Violence, Implied Interfacing.
Author Notes: Nothing except that this will be a story not be recommended for the faint of heart. This will be very gory soon.
Enjoy!
Megatron sat crouched, snarling softly. Crimson optics burned in the darkness of his rather large cell, and his back was braced against the slick metal wall behind him. His talons shredded through the thick and scarred floor, one that was meticulously spotless but still held the ghosts of torment that had been the prisoners that had resided in here before the tyrant.
He could not believe that he had been so foolish. He sat there reprimanding himself, contradicting every order he had given on the field and the actions that had been executed as a result. Perhaps if he had done something differently, even the smallest thing, he would not be stuck in this infernal excuse for a prison.
The Autobots had completely taken them by surprise, he hated to admit. Led by the Tyrest Enforcer Ultra Magnus, they had broken through external defenses with a horrific ease and had made their way through the airborne warship and deep into the massive fortress. After the threat of the Vehicon battalions was taken care of, they had all split off into teams and destroyed segments of the fortress, one by one, until only the main force in the center remained.
There, Optimus and his best warriors had confronted Megatron and his own army.
Energon had been spilled, codes of protection and the motto all life is sacred were broken.
The Autobots had been destructive to the extreme, and they fought relentlessly for a long amount of time.
It had resulted in the capture of their sworn enemies.
They had not been imprisoned together. Megatron was in the largest cell, the Seekers were separated enough to put strain on their trine bond. Soundwave was in a special cell that blocked his telepathy and disabled his cassettes.
It almost surprised him how much effort had been put into the task of merely separating them.
The brig door hissed open, and two mechs entered, one with large wings raised high behind him and the other with a large sword resting in a sheathe connected to the mech's back. Once they were in the light, the warlord recognized them as Rodimus, the former Prime, and the defector that had worked with Turmoil, Deadlock...or as he was known now, Drift.
The young Prime was scowling down at the silver mech shackled to the floor, the broad expanse of his wingspan spread wide. His slanted, exotic blue optics were narrowed in clear disgust as he tapped his taloned digits against the armor of his crossed servos. For someone so young, Megatron had to admit that he had a powerful and attractive frame, and he knew that Rodimus knew that. It was shown in the way he carried himself, and in the arrogant smirk that he constantly wore. His confidence was only increased by the fact that he was the son of the legendary Optimus Prime.
Behind him, the larger frame of the triple changer loomed. The dim lighting reflected off of his pure white armor, and his own wings were seemingly blanketed in the shadows of the massive sheathe connected to his back. His optics, once a cruel and spark-piercing crimson, were now a shade of burned amber, burning as dangerously bright as that of the tyrant.
Megatron bared pointed dentia, narrowing his optics. "What do you want?" His dark armor shifted over his frame in rippling waves.
Rodimus laughed, a deep and rich sound that reverberated throughout the room. "What do you think, Megs? We were sent to interrogate you."
The warlord chuckled, optics flashing as he bared razor dentia. "You truly believe that you will get anything from me? You must be mistaken."
Golden optics narrowed, darkening as they locked on to the imprisoned mech. "The current Prime believes that we will be able to." Drift's voice was deep and rumbling, yet it revealed no emotion whatsoever.
"And you trust the words of Optimus?" The enormous mech let out a booming laugh, condescension clear in the powerful sound. "You would trust the words of the very mech who let these poor excuses for mechs and femmes beat you when you were suspected of being a traitor?"
The former assassin growled, engines rumbling as he flicked his wings. "Your words would be more suited for the heeled glitch that you call a second in command."
Megatron's crimson glare flashed with an unreadable emotion before he leaned back against the cell wall. "You are stalling. What do you intent to do with me? Question me into submission?"
Rodimus grinned darkly at the large mech's statement, wings twitching high above him. "Oh, no, my dear Megs." He kept a steady glare fixed on the Decepticon warmonger as he entered an open command into the keypad of the cell.
"We intend to take the answers we want from you...whether you like it or not."
Megatron laughed deeply, mouthplates splitting into a horrific impression of a grin. "I would love to see you try, Rodimus. You are as soft sparked as your sire."
To his surprise, the young mech laughed, shaking his helm as if in disappointment. "No, my dear warlord. You fail to understand." He turned and grinned at the triple changer beside him, exchanging a silent confirmation before turning back to the chained mech. "I will not be interrogating you. The lovely Drift will be." Rodimus retreated into the shadows, optics a beacon of cruel light as he continued to keep his unsettling glare and that infuriating slag-eating grin. "And you know of the stories, don't you? About what Drift used to be?"
Faceplate revealing no emotion, Megatron resisted the urge to roll his optics. "There is nothing you can do that I cannot withstand."
Rodimus' grin was starting to become feral. "Oh, really? Well, then." He seemed to contemplate something before speaking once again. "Perhaps you have heard of the incident in Garrus-9, or the massacre of Styx?" With a sweep of a clawed hand he waved at the silent white mech. "All the work of my friend here."
Megatron scoffed, resettling his thick and battle-scarred armor. "A mere act of drawing attention to attract my former self." He narrowed his optics, tilting his helm. "What of it?"
The Prime's son examined his claws in a manner similar to that of a certain cherry red narcissist. "Oh, nothing, really. But there is just the fact that my friend here fights for that power. An eternal battle, all solar and stellar cycle, just to maintain the beast he once was." Cobalt optics burned as they carved their way into the crouched mech. "Poor Drift is so, so hungry. And you, my dear mech," he snarled, suddenly behind the warlord, "Would make for an excellent meal."
Drift rumbled behind him, a servo wandering down to caress the secondary set of wings of his teammate. The former Prime moaned, the appendages arching into the touch. Grinning dangerously, the orange and crimson mech glared down at the shackled mech.
"My partner grows ever hungrier, Megs. You're so big, too..." A giggle escaped the slim mech. "Oh...you will make such an excellent meal. Won't he, my love?"
Drift bared his fangs, molten amber optics flashing crimson as he stared impassively at the silver mech.
Megatron scowled, electromagnetic field flaring and colliding with the other mechs. "I was a gladiator in the Pits of Kaon. I was torn limb from limb and still managed to decapitate my opponents. I will tell you again, I would love to see you try."
Rodimus shook his helm again, laughing with a hint of insanity. "Oh, you are so dimwitted, Megs!" Snaking around the broad chassis of the restrained mech, he was suddenly in front of him, straddling his waist between long and slender legs.
Leaning close, the orange mech hissed darkly, a strange sound coming from an Autobot. "We are not going to torture you. We are not going to tear you limb from limb." A strange laugh escaped him as he leaned even closer, nasal ridge to nasal ridge with the snarling silver tyrant. "No, my dear. We are going to break you like you did our soldiers. Like you did to Perceptor, and all of the others you brutally tortured."
Drift snarled behind him, and then was looming over the both of them, golden optics now burning a vicious scarlet. Pulling the former Prime close, he crushed his mouthplates against his, pressing his pelvic span against that of the smaller mech. Rodimus moaned, arching against the broad and powerful white chassis as he tilted his helm back to stare and grin eerily at the tyrant.
"Yes, Megatron. We are going to enjoy this. And let me tell you..."
His optics narrowed as he gave another slag-eating grin.
"We are not the only ones who will have a turn at you and your accomplices."
Well, there's that. A short start, but the other chapters may be longer. I hope you liked! R&R, pleaze! Also, I have not forgotten about New Member. Chapter 16 will be posted in the next week or so.