Title: Dark Gift
Pairing(s): Megatron/Ratchet, Optimus/Ratchet
Warnings: Torture, non-con, hurt, pain, manipulation, and other stuff. Explicit sexual writing that some younger readers may fined offensive.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing :sob: apart form some toys!
Summery: Megatron has made many plans, some have come to pass, others not. After capturing an Autobot, he finds that one of his longest held plans may finely be fulfilled.
AN: in my internet travels I found that Megatron and Ratchet were once molecularly joined together… since then I find the dynamic between the too far to wonderful to leave alone. Actually this is the fifth Transformers fan fiction I've written, but only the second I've put up anywhere. It's a little arse about face I know but :shrug: what can ya do. I'm adoring the new Prime series, I just adore the voice talent. I have fallen in love with this incarnation of Megatron, the first Megs I've found hot, and the fact it's the original guy doing the voice is even sweeter! Plus! Ratchet is voiced by one of my all time fav actors of all time! Re-animator trilogy is in my top ten movies.
Re-edited 2013! This is the re worked edition! Spellings have been fixed and some re wording has been done, hopefully all for the better! A trillion thanks gose to Horsanna for her wonderful help and imput. Without her I never would have fixed the problems I had with this!
Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Shadows of things to come.
Megatron watched the live video feed of his captive with amusement as he struggled against his bonds. The mech hung from energon restraints, painful and draining to any bot's systems. A sly grin spread over his face as he reached out and entered a command into the control panel leading to the cell, routing to a surge of raw energy through the prisoner's frame. The Autobot screamed in agony, arcing and twisting involuntarily in a futile attempt to escape the tortuous pain arcing through his sensitive neural network. Megatron was more than pleased with the results; he had, after all, developed the system himself.
After the energy flare subsided, the Autobot launched immediately into a scorching rant of viciously creative insults aimed at various aspects of Megatron's parentage, cleanliness and the incredibly small size of his interfacing equipment. He chuckled deeply, finding the tirades highly amusing. He'd discovered this titbit a few hours ago while idly torturing the Autobot; after every shock the bot would let loose an amazing display of temper, freeing his acid tongue from its sheath. Some of the things that were said… they made the Decepticon soldiers blush.
/Lord:Megatron/ a voice whispered through an internal comm. It drew the Decepticon leader out of his thoughts and prompted him to search for its origin. Glancing around, Megatron saw Soundwave silently stride up behind him without so much as a whisper of hydraulics. If it had been anyone else he would have been very unsettled, but Soundwave had proven his undying loyalty to him time and time again. He trusted the silent mech, more than any other Decepticon under his command. It still marvelled the warlord how the communications officer could be so stealthy. Yes, his TIC truly was an asset to the cause.
/Information: Autobot captive./
The massive mech glanced at Soundwave with a frown; he didn't remember asking for the comm. officer to do any background checks on the prisoner.
/Analysis of captive: intriguing./
Megatron scanned the screen before him briefly before turning to face the other mech.
"How so?"
Megatron silently studied the information as personal data and medical scans flowed over his super spy's faceplates. As he idly browsed the information available, Soundwave began to explain the significance of his finds in his calm, distinctive voice. Megatron found listening to his TIC to be an almost novel experience, the mech's statements precise and to the point. He enjoyed listening to his voice, a stark contrast to Starscream's loud, insistent screech that contained almost nothing of value. Contrarily, the reclusive blue bot never spoke aloud and even then refrained from spouting the hot air and sycophantic drivel that the Air Commander inserted into every conversation.
/Identity: verified./ the mech spoke, his voice calm and almost melodic. /Medical scans: complete. Information: cross-referenced. Results: positive. Conclusion: match for stated criteria./
That caught the warlord's attention.
"A match? How accurate is the information?" As he said it, he realised it was a moot question. Soundwave was a very good officer and would never have bothered his leader with anything less than completely accurate information. Still… he had to be sure.
/Scans indicate: carrying capability: active. Autobot: still receptive. Records state: 100% success rate. Carried: three to term/
"Three? Busy little Autobot," he chuckled, "How did they fair?"
/Sparkling occupations: two high warrior class, one high science officer. Conclusion: favourable breeding potential./
His CPU began to process the information. Megatron had been waiting a very long time to find someone that matched his high standard of criteria; somebot very special for an equally special task.
For far too long others had desired and fought for leadership of the Decepticon army; his own second in command hungered desperately for his throne. Megatron couldn't let just anyone take up his mantle should anything happen to him. Starscream was, in his own way, a reasonably good commander and he certainly had the drive, but he lacked the undying faith that he himself inspired in the Decepticon troops. For that reason the seeker would never be a strong leader. They needed a clear undisputed line of leadership. The warlord needed someone he could train and mould, someone he could shape in his image and could say was truly worthy to lead.
In short, Megatron needed an heir. A true heir; his own spark pulse and living cybertronium in case anything untoward did happen to him. If he could not fulfil his dream, he would be sure that he had someone he could trust to take his place; to carry on in his stead and lead their clan to their rightful greatness. He'd conceived this plan millennia ago when he'd first taken on the mantle of leadership, but for all his searching, he had never found a suitable candidate to breed with.
There was always something wrong. There were a variety of reasons that ultimately turned him off any would-be candidate, from their physical appearance to their mental competency. The ex-gladiator wanted the best; an intelligent, strong carrier who'd pass on only the best Cybertronian characteristic. This one had bred warriors and officers; exquisite breeding potential indeed. True, the candidate was an Autobot, but Megatron had learnt that nobot was perfect. He could live with that singular fault, he mused, seeing as every other aspect amounted to the perfect carrier. In other words, too good of an opportunity to pass off.
After all these vorns he'd finally found the perfect carrier for his offspring lurking right under his nasal plating. He gazed back at the screen, bright red optics scrutinizing the bot closely. Megatron snorted at the irony. He really should have looked at the Autobots a little more closely.
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Ratchet hung limply from the ceiling of the cell. After multiple electrical shocks and his angry outbursts to vent his frustration, all his energy seemed to have deserted him. Everything felt heavy and tired; his entire body throbbed with phantom pains from his torture. His joints hurt and his wrist had gone numb from being stung up for so long. He wasn't sure how long he'd have to endure being amusement for the sadistic warlord, but he prayed that Primus sent his team swiftly to his aid.
He was more than a little annoyed at ending up in his predicament. Optimus, Bumblebee and Arcee had gone on a simple scouting mission and Ratchet had insisted that he accompany them, he wanted samples of a particular rock from the area. He near enough ordered Optimus to take him along. The medic also stated that if he spent another moment with the human children while they were playing their stupid dance game, it would drive the medic to do something unbecoming from a mech of his standing. Optimus had given him a small, knowing smile and agreed.
Everything had gone exceedingly well; the woods had been blissfully quiet and peaceful, positively delightful after the ruckus of the base. After a while he'd split off from the others to explore on his own, wandering quite far into the trees. He'd found some more rather fascinating specimens further in, and had sat by a fallen tree to examine a particularly vivid sample. However, Ratchet hadn't been seated for long when all 18 levels of the pit seemed to explode around him. Everything happened so fast! He was hit from behind by a mighty energy blast that sent his finely tuned sensors reeling and warped his visual and audio sensors.
He staggered to his feet, unable to see clearly and struggled to tune in to his general comm frequency. Ratchet couldn't have been sure, but he thought that he could make out a call to engage an unknown enemy. He could barely stand though as his sensors thought that the sky was beneath his feet. The compromised comm crackled with static and the incapacitated mech thought he could hear Arcee cry out in pain. Fear gripped him, he couldn't tell what was happening and couldn't help even if he wanted to. For a moment he thought he heard Optimus call his name but froze up, unable to reply and feeling as if his jaws were welded closed. Moments later the medic's world suddenly went black as he was forced into shutdown, left to his uncertain fate.
When he'd awoken, he found himself Strung up in a holding cell. Though he had clearly been repaired and his sensors recalibrated, they were only just functioning normally. Ratchet had almost felt as though he would rather have stayed offline. Looking back at his decision, Ratchet berated himself for his foolishness. He should have just bitten the preverbal bullet, stayed at the base and endured the younglings 'music' and odd dance moves.
He caught the sound of movement from outside the doors , voices quickly joining the tinny echo of footsteps. Moments later the sliding doors slid ajar as the Decepticon leader strode confidently in to the room. He was just as tall and menacing as ever, his crimson optics blazing like dark suns in the shadowy room. The warlord focused on the bound mech in front of him and smiled maliciously, showing off rows of pointy denta.
"Hello Doctor. How are you finding your guest quarters? I hope the décor is to your liking?" he queried smoothly, voice full of dark amusement. Ratchet merely scoffed and rolled his optics in annoyance, not at all impressed with the mechs bravado.
"I hate to be a bore but please, if you're going to kill me, stop this pointless procrastination and just do it already!" he huffed irritably. "You're only wasting your own time; I'm sure you have some helpless minion to scare the waste fluid out of. That is how you get your cheap thrills is it not?"
The ambulance smirked, waiting for the Decepticon to retaliate with threats and grand, dramatic boasting about how he was going to crush him, his Autobot brethren and his Prime.
Instead, Megatron simply stood there, a contemplative look spreading across his faceplates. He tapped a long talon against his chin and stepped forward, languorously looking over the bound mech in front of him. His optics swept lazily over the bots frame, lingering on certain parts that he felt deserved closer attention. The Autobot medic was indeed a pleasant thing to look at. His white armour looked bright, even with it covered in dirt and his own Energon stains, and was accented with simple patterns and striking colours that contrasted violently with his surroundings. The mech's features were attractive with a sturdy, strong frame composed of clean lines and subtly elegant curves.
"What are you staring at you walking, Junkion muck spreader?!" The medic snapped, a sneer pulling at his handsome faceplates. His very words betrayed his high class programming; a lightly clipped accent that identified his Iaconian heritage. Ratchet had the self-assured tone and confidence that came from having privilege and power. The smaller bot wasn't afraid of him- that was very good, Megatron didn't want a carrier with no spinal strut.
Though they had never met before the war Megatron had known of this particular medic, as had most of Cybertron. Orion had certainly mentioned him often enough to catch his interest. Ratchet had held quite a reputation regarding his scientific work, but that was often underplayed in contrast to his phenomenal talent as a doctor. If that wasn't enough, Ratchet also worked his way through the ranks of society, even playing a part in the planets political arena. The gladiator admitted to have caught several vids of the medic's presentations and he approved of the drive and determination that was present in his passionate speeches.
It was widely known that when the old Minister for health was to step down for his well deserved retirement, the only candidate that anyone put forward was this mech. Had war not come, he would be health minister for all of Cybertron by now. An impressive feat. Ratchet was an intelligent, confident, talented and resourceful mech. He was perfect. No wonder Orion had been so obsessed with him and no doubt why Prime had wanted him so badly to recruit him for his varied talents when war broke out. Speaking of the Prime…
Something had caught his optic, a shadowy dent on the mechs neck cable. Megatron stepped forward and grabbed the Autobot roughly by the throat, causing him to choke in shock. He paid no heed to the struggling mech as he ran his servos carefully over the cables. The warlord could feel slight dents in the soft metal, dents cause by another mech's denta. Megatron began to smile widely, disconcerting the mech beneath him- could it be? He wondered; Orion had always spoken of him with such admiration, and longing… Had he…?
"Tell me," Megatron purred into Ratchets audio. "I am curious, how long have you been Primes berth-warmer?"
"W-what?!" The medic spluttered. The shocked look on his face was all he needed to help confirm his suspicions. Megatron grinned with glee, optics glimmering as he pressed on.
"Don't be surprised, it wasn't hard to figure out. If I know Optimus, and I like to think I do, he does have a habit of… nibbling on his playthings," he chuckled, running the tips of his talons over the doctors neck to show how he'd come to the conclusion. The doctor looked suitably lost for words and Megatron gave a sly look. "I wonder what he'll give to get you back in one piece?"
"Optimus would never give you anything, you egotistical fragger! Never! Not for the sake of one bot! No matter who he is! He has others that would quite happily take my place!"
The Decepticon grinned savagely. He had Primes berth-mate. His spark raced with excitement. This was even better than he could have dreamed- not only would he get his heir, he would take something precious from the Prime: His chosen companion. If he knew Optimus as well as he professed, the Autobot leader would have invested his emotions heavily in the mech before him, to his peril it would now seem.
'How delicious it will be', he mused. When he'd taken what he wanted from the medic, he'd dump him back on earth for Prime to retrieve. Optimus would discover, to his horror, that he'd had him. He would leave marks of their mating on that beautiful armour; clear signs that he had taken his pleasure from the Primes personal whore.
Soon after, Optimus would learn that the doctor had borne him a sparkling, that Megatron had claimed a piece of his medics spark as well as his body. What a torture that would be for the pair of them!
He chuckled deeply as the white mech squirmed, grunting in his grasp; perhaps he'd also record the event then send it to the Prime. A little gift; a twist of the blade in Optimus' spark. He grinned savagely, lent down and ran his glossa along Ratchet's throat, over the dents from his lovers administrations. The medic shuddered violently.
"Get your disgusting, depraved claws off me you vile excuse for a life form!" Ratchet snarled, thrashing vigorously.
"You have such spirit, good, I'll enjoy pounding it out of you," he emphasized darkly.
To Megatrons delight it only took a click for the doctor to understand his meaning; the horrified look on his face was such a picture. The Decepticon chuckled and let his servos slide down the Autobots neck, scraping his talons provocatively over his chest and dipping the tips into the crevices of his grill before moving off. Leaving the mech quaking in disgust. He stepped out of the holding cell to find Soundwave dutifully standing guard.
"It seems we have unwittingly brought Optimus Primes companion on board for a visit. We best see that we make his stay memorable. Have him cleaned up and brought to my quarters."
/By your command: Lord Megatron/ The com officer nodded slightly. Megatron turned and left, his processor already planning on what to do with the medic once he got him in his own berth. Each idea that bloomed was more delicious then the last.
He was going to enjoy this.
XxXxXxXxX