Title: Siege: Before
Warning: Overlord's not a good guy. Seriously, Overlord's not nice. Overlord = bad.
Rating: R
Continuity: IDW, AU.
Characters: Overlord, Fortress Maximus
Disclaimer: The theatre doesn't own the script or actors, nor does it make a profit from the play.
Motivation (Prompt): The bits and pieces of Siege from before and after, taken out of Candy From Strangers and finally assembled.
[* * * * *]
Fortress Maximus - "force-feeding"
[* * * * *]
He opened his mouth for anything. It was available for whatever Overlord wanted to put in it: the Phase Sixer's screw, the screw of every Decepticon privileged enough to be allowed to use him, parts of his own dead garrison scraped off the floor or taken off the hooks hanging from the ceiling, the tools chosen to torture him that day. Anything it pleased Overlord to shove in.
That was the bargain. Despite torture and interrogation of himself or others, Fortress Maximus refused to hand over the information the Decepticon really wanted, so Overlord had targeted an area with more room to compromise. The item of real value was out of reach, but Overlord made his own consolation prize. Hence, the bargain: Fortress Maximus let Overlord use his mouth however he wanted, and Overlord stopped using the mouths of the prison warden's remaining guards. Be it rape, pain, or (rarely and most horrifically) pleasure, Overlord left their mouths alone and focused on their leader's as long as that mouth was willing.
It was a bad deal, heavily coerced. Fort Max had no way of knowing if the Decepticons who'd overrun the penitentiary were forcing his mechs elsewhere. Overlord, as a Decepticon, had no reason to keep his word. The tortured Autobot knew it, but what choice did he have? He could refuse the bargain and watch in helpless fury as his guards were punished for his refusal, or agree and at least hope the appearance of a deal was enough to spare them. Overlord had no other reason to let them be, after all.
No reason but the enjoyment of spending an entire afternoon thrusting his fingers in and out, in and out of a reluctantly compliant mouth. Overlord wasn't even looking at the prison warden chained to the floor beside him, chin propped on his knee. The enormous Phase Sixer was paging through reports and watching the chaos of the combat rink below, merely using his captive's mouth as an idle pastime to keep his hand busy, but that was good.
It was good because Fortress Maximus knew that the Decepticon's full attention meant worse than three fingers plunging deep enough to gag him. Two fingers scraped over the roof of his mouth. A thumb forced his jaw open, making room to join the two fingers and pinch his tongue. A large forefinger rasped through the tender hole where three of his denta had been pulled out at the roots. All four fingers filled him, stretching his lips wide around Overlord's hand as it violated every corner of his mouth, and the chained Autobot sucked, licked, and nibbled in response.
He never, ever bit. That was the bargain. His mouth would be pleasing, or his mechs' would take his place in all the very worst ways and then some. He had no doubt that freely offering his mouth was the better bargain, however rigged the bargain was. Overlord possessed a graphic turn of phrase, and where he'd failed in describing, well, he'd brought in visual aids and done some demonstrations on Fort Max himself. The Autobot would grimly watch his mechs scream and die to protect Aequitas, but when it came to just playing Overlord sick games for entertainment? Trading his own body for theirs in this torture was the only way he had left to fulfill his duty of care for them any longer.
So his chin was on Overlord's knee, his mouth receptive to the Decepticon fingers sliding in and out, and he lavished them with every trick he'd ever picked up or - more recent and terrible - been taught. Later, he'd pamper something else just as devoutly. He'd put his tongue out and lap, tongue obligingly curled between the sharp ridges that'd make his jaw ache when discharge electrocuted him. It wasn't something he looked forward to, but there were worse ways for the Phase Sixer to amuse himself.
And that's what Fort Max was trying to avoid, with his chin propped up and his lips closed around thick fingers. His tongue licked around Overlord's knuckle joints, and he hoped - he prayed - that Overlord would stay distracted. Let the reports take more time than usual. Let the match end in a stalemate. Let today be different.
He desperately wanted those fingertips to keep playfully squeezing his tongue. It meant that Overlord wasn't really paying attention to him, and he'd rather be a background amusement than the main entertainment. That was better than the alternative.
Better than the spoonfuls of fuel being held up with a mocking smile. Better than when the spoon was held forward until the bargain made the Autobot open his mouth, because he had to open his mouth. Then the spoon would slip into his mouth and tip slowly to dribble the energon across his tongue. Overlord smiled and made him taste it. He hand-fed him, forcing the fuel on him, savoring the way the prison warden flinched despite himself as the fuel coated his tongue and lingered on his intake aperture. Fortress Maximus had to swallow Overlord's amused laughter with every mouthful of fuel fed to him straight from dead mechs' bodies.
He opened his mouth for anything, but he couldn't always keep down what was forced in.
[* * * * *]
Fortress Maximus - "I already know how it ends; that exit is blocked"
[* * * * *]
Before it ended, before the final conclusion was reached, Overlord left Garrus 9. He left, and he took his broken pet with him.
It was boredom that motivated him. Megatron had not come. There was much violence to be found in the chaos of war, and waiting for a warlord far away to notice him waiting all the way across the vast galactic battlefield had worn thin. There were other important strongholds he could destroy, and other stands he could take. Megatron would eventually find him impossible to ignore, and then? Then the fight would be glorious.
The fate of Garrus 9 amused him. He'd known the Autobots wished to retake it, but he hadn't been aware of the Wreckers being slated to storm the penitentiary. They must have found it a ridiculously easy mission, going in expecting him and getting only the Decepticon unit he'd used to take the place. He chuckled to himself, imagining the carnage the Wreckers must have carved through the weakling cannon fodder he'd abandoned. If he'd known the Wreckers were on their way, he'd have stayed a while longer. Aequitas must have been worth something after all if the Autobots had been willing to send in their "best" troops. Overlord was certain he'd have gotten a better fight from them than he'd had since arriving at the prison.
Ah, well. Next time, perhaps.
To give them proper motivation for that future fight, he called the penitentiary from his shuttle. He had all the command codes, still. It only took the minion Autobot who answered one look to pass the comm. call up the chain of command. Perhaps it was Overlord's lazy grin that alarmed the Autobot so. It was the expression of a glutted predator looking to kill again: insane and calculating at the same time. Or perhaps it was how he held his pet leaning against his shoulder, utterly ruined and stifling despairing sobs as Overlord made sure the communication console's camera caught a good view of what he was making the mech submit to.
It wasn't a new torture, or even a particularly painful one. He thought, and it entertained him to see that there was still enough pride left in the Autobot for this, that it was enduring the humiliation of witnesses that was provoking the soft keen. How cute. He would have to exploit that at some further date.
For now, he merely used his pet's writhing shame to taunt the furious Wrecker glaring at him from the screen. "You could have saved him, had you come sooner, but...tsk. Too late. Now he's mine." He lowered his head and tenderly kissed the side of the black helm lolling back on his shoulder, angling his fingers to draw out a low groan for their audience's edification. "All mine," he purred, an assurance and threat directed at both Autobots.
His pet shuddered. The green Autobot on the screen still had the steel in him, however, and didn't flinch. Overlord looked forward to the day he'd pull that steel out through the mech's face.
"We will hunt you down," Springer said, level and deadly. "We will hunt you down and kill you."
Overlord smiled pleasantly. "Oh? I cannot tell you how afraid I am. How afraid am I?'' He freed one hand from its business, ignoring the moaning cry that provoked, and tapped a finger against his lower lip. "I need to show you how afraid I am. My dearest pet, I think you should serve as illustration." A pathetic whine came from the repaired but completely shattered Autobot he held on his lap. Now that he needed no information from the mind inside, the body had been so simple to twist to his desires. The struggle of the mind to resist only added to how he relished crafting that body into the perfect pet around it. "Fetch me a toy, Fortress Maximus, and I'll use you to show your friends how afraid I am." His dark voice laughed, and the sound held perverse warmth contrasted to the cold words it said next. "Or would that be how unafraid I am? I suppose it depends on what toy you bring me and how angry they become while watching me demonstrate it on you."
Fortress Maximus whimpered as he was pushed off his tormentor's lap. He looked up at the screen, expression pained, shamed, and pleading, but Springer could only helplessly look back at him. The warden bowed his head and went to get Overlord a 'toy.' He couldn't escape when the exit was blocked.
This wasn't how it ended, but it wasn't over yet.
[* * * * *]
Fortress Maximus - "First time"
[* * * * *]
Not the expander. He couldn't take the expander again, not so soon after last time. His jaw still ached from being unlocked. Overlord had been in no hurry to pop the joints back into place when his pet learned so quickly from physical demonstrations. Fortress Maximus had learned very quickly with his jaw unhinged and hanging open, oral fluid dribbling off his chin and Overlord taking suggestions from the nearest Decepticon base for what should be shoved down his intake next. The gross distortion of his intake valve had been bad enough, the popped joint painful, but the real lesson had been taught by the laughter broadcast around the small ship. Overlord had let the nearest bases watch the warden helplessly drool, and the shame had ground the lesson in deep.
So Fortress Maximus parted his lips and tried to relax his intake. He kept his optics downcast, not wanting to see the cruel smile he knew was curving Overlord's lips. He was broken enough to be practical, not masochistic.
A swallow worked his throat tubing as thick fingers came up to stroke his chin. "Oh ho. Now you'll obey?" Overlord leaned down, forcing the Autobot's head up with a hard pinch to the chin. "No, Maxy," he said in the warden's face, tone mild but optics flinty. "That's not how this works. I give an order, and you obey it. No hesitation, no repetitions, no second chances. You didn't obey, and now you'll face the consequences." His other hand held up the small set of hydraulics that'd fit in the back of his pet's jaw if forced.
The big Autobot cringed. Not the expander!
He whimpered, hating the weak sound but knowing it pleased Overlord immensely to hear it. He even tipped his head to the side, pushing the side of his face against the larger mech's hand in a sick parody of affection. He rubbed and nudged, begging without words because his mouth was still open, he'd obeyed, he'd obeyed!
Hope hurt the worst, but it always did when Overlord retaught a lesson. Fortress Maximus knew better than to hold onto even a smidgen of it, but there had been just a few times when amusement motivated the Decepticon to show a fraction of mercy. Perhaps those instances were just calculated to add to the terrible pressure stomping his pet's will flat. Knowing Overlord? Almost certainly so.
But yet Fort Max couldn't stop himself from offering his open mouth, whining eagerly when Overlord's unoccupied hand slipped in. The fingers touching every surface in his mouth weren't new. They prodded the sensors lining the roof of his mouth, attempted to wiggle his denta in their sockets, and pressed down on his glossa. That hands-on glossa depressor was the only thing that stopped him from continuing to lap and lick and chase those fingers with his glossa. He still closed his lips to suck hard on the two fingers and the thumb holding his glossa down.
This, he'd been well-trained to do. He was thoroughly degraded by how routine it seemed at this point, but at least he wasn't punished for reluctance anymore.
It was the swipe of a finger over the back of his mouth that was new. His intake aperture spasmed, but he made it relax. He could do this. He could take it.
Frag him, he wanted it. He opened his mouth wider and whined again, pushing his face forward into the fingers tracing over the thin metal of the valve itself. He wanted it. Really, he did. Please, he did. He'd obeyed. He'd be obedient. He could take it.
Overlord's hand withdrew, and a tiny sound of fear and despair leaked out after it.
"Now, let's see just who's in range." Overlord smiled benignly as his pet shuddered but kept that naughty mouth open. Too little, too late. "It's about time I gave your personal cheerleader a call. What words of encouragement will he entertain me with today?" Wide optics shot to his face and away again as Fort Max wrestled himself back into stoic surrender. "Springer should take notes. He's promised to reenact on me every torment I've inflicted on you, but, hmm." He pretended to think that over. "I believe he's missed seeing quite a few. I'll have to think of a new one just for him this time."
The massive Phase Sixer leaned down and tenderly took Fortress Maximus' willingly opened mouth in a slow kiss. The Autobot's intakes convulsed, trying not to retch, and Overlord took from his mouth directly the sobbed, involuntary noises of a mech's destroyed pride. His mouth tasted like terror.
Overlord chuckled as he drew away. "Now, as for the expander…"
The Autobot whimpered again and kept his mouth open.
[* * * * *]
An attempted attack/Siege AU - Overlord, Fortress Maximus
[* * * * *]
Overlord didn't even look up from the gun he was cleaning until he'd cleared the ammo feed. Then stood up and, still holding onto Fortress Maximus' arm, turned to face his prisoner. Rounded optics stared up at him, and despite himself, the warden drew slightly into himself. Half the handful of opened power cells had dripped to the floor to eat into the metal, but the rest oozed slowly down out of his hand toward where Overlord's fist encircled his wrist.
He had almost, almost, managed to slap the opened cells onto the side of Overlord's head. So close, but so far.
Fort Max swallowed hard. This was going to be bad.
Overlord sighed. "Really, slave. This becomes tiresome. Now I'll have to restock those power cells, and you'll be tasked to cycle them out again. That means I'll have to ensure you don't break my property." His hold tightened. Metal creaked. Paint bubbled where the cell fluid burnt in. "Only I may do that."
He had just enough time to see it coming before Overlord began beating him with his own acid-covered hand. Less physically beating than making sure the acid smeared across the widest area, mostly across his face and upper helm. When the massive Decepticon was satisfied, he released the sputtering, flailing Autobot and sat back down to continue his work. "Do tell me when you've learned your lesson, hmm?"
Smoke rose in lazy curls from dissolving paint, and Fort Max backed away, hand held in front of himself helplessly as the cell fluid burnt in. He turned and limped for the washracks, only to find that the shuttle had auto-locked it. He wasn't permitted in there without Overlord accompanying him anymore, not since he'd tried to rewire the temperature gauge. The acid continued to burn, however, and the warden desperately rubbed his face and hand against the wall trying to get as much as he could off.
Too late. His right optic had frosted over, acid-etched and glass steadily weakening. His face hissed and steamed. His helm bleated errors, informing him of compromised areas that would only get worse if the acid didn't finish reacting by the time it got through to his brain module. He...he didn't have a choice, of course. He never had a choice.
Fortress Maximus stumbled back through the shuttle, supporting himself against the wall and blinking rapidly as his damaged optic fed static into his visual feed. Overlord sat right where he'd left him, and the warden's face hurt as his lips peeled back in an enraged snarl. He fought with himself for a moment, but the acid was eating ever-closer to dripping into his helm.
He dropped to his knees and crawled across the floor, composing the words his master wanted to hear.
[* * * * *]
Overlord - "I like the lip better."
[* * * * *]
It was a matter of aesthetics.
The glossa hid the piercing behind closed lips, but pulling on the chain brought it into view. That made it obvious that the glossa itself was meant for his pleasure, not its owner's, as well as making it impossible to speak. Bringing his pet's talented, well-trained glossa out for display had its appeal, yes, but…
"I believe I like the lip better," Overlord murmured, and Fortress Maximus winced.
It was a long, slow motion, more like the prison warden shrank into himself than actually recoiling from his captor. The quick flashes of horror had become something of the past. What remained were the humiliations of submission and the pains that lingered. Fast motions meant he had no time to think, and that was bad. Thinking of the consequences of instinctual terror was becoming reflex. To jerk away from Overlord every time the agony hit or shame overwhelmed common sense was to accept that he'd be punished for trying to escape.
The Autobot wanted to escape, by Primus he did, but he'd learned his lessons in the time since he'd been taken away from Garrus-9. His…owner had taught him well. Give Overlord the slightest leverage, and the Phase Sixer could train a rock to sit up and beg on command. Give him a powerful Autobot, and he'd make a pet of him.
Fortress Maximus reached up with unnaturally steady hands to accept the chain leash Overlord held down for him. The thing was more of a symbol than a real restraint; giving it to his pet to hold was like setting it on a piece of furniture for the Decepticon. Only more satisfying, because the warden obediently kept his hands up and his own leash lying across his palms waiting for his tormentor to retrieve it. His face was already uplifted for easy access. His bleak expression didn't change as he tamely opened his mouth for the huge fingers that brushed across his lips.
The end of the leash laid cold and heavy over Fort Max's bottom lip, and Overlord wound the thin length of the chain around a forefinger. That finger tugged for the flinch of pain it got. The stud punched through his pet's glossa had a ring set on the underside. The leash had been fastened there. Every tug pulled the stud against the fresh piercing. It was, as he'd ensured earlier, excruciatingly painful if yanked on.
The first time, his pet had choked on a scream at the unexpected jolt of agony. It'd been quite amusing watching the big Autobot hastily stumble to follow where the chain pulled him. Overlord had hardly needed to expend effort to leash-train the mech when the threat of continued pain did it for him. The glossa piercing had paid off well, he felt. A small initial pain for such a large result.
The warden was better disciplined now, grimly prepared not to give his captor anymore satisfaction than he had to, but that didn't make the shooting stabs of pain through his jaw hurt any less. He kept his optics dimmed and averted. Refusing to react was the only defiance he could afford to hang on to. Anything else had been trained out of him with brutally meticulous care.
Overlord rumbled amusement from his power plant and let him keep his silence. If it was screams the Decepticon wanted, there were a myriad of ways to get them. Perhaps he would indulge himself later and teach a small lesson about when and how his pet's pain should be demonstrated for his enjoyment. The stoic surrender could be tiresome at times.
In the meantime, Decepticon forced three fingers and his thumb into the skilled mouth opened for his pleasure. He made sure to thrust them in too far, leisurely reaffirming his ownership. Not that Fortress Maximus fought him over that anymore, but it didn't lessen Overlord's pleasure in marking his claim again. He stroked over the surfaces of the mech's denta, petting his pet quite intimately, and chuckled softly when the intake against his middle finger flexed helplessly. The thick finger circled delicately, brushing around and around the circumference of the intake before nudging into it.
It convulsed around his fingertip as he pushed it in and out in miniscule motions that did nothing but stimulate the sensitive aperture valve. A curl of his finger held it open yet further, and Fortress Maximus gagged as his tanks pinged him. Overlord delighted in how the Autobot shook slightly, fighting off a purge. Purging his tanks over Overlord's feet never ended well.
By the time the larger mech withdrew his hand enough to finally unclip the end of the chain leash under Fort Max's tongue, the Autobot had his optics off. His mouth remained open, but his face had twisted up into an expression of revulsion tempered by determination. He would not purge. He could not purge.
Overlord's plush lips curved in a pleased smile. "Well done," he complimented his pet softly, because the words burned and he knew it.
He let his fingers smooth over the Autobot's lower lip again, clinking off the ring he'd set into it earlier when the aesthetic debate had begun. The leash clipped onto it, and ah. Yes. Much better. Nothing made it so clear how far this mech had been broken than to have the method of control out on the open. It was nothing but a thin chain attached to a lip ring. The warden of Garrus-9 could tear it out in a moment if he hadn't been taught not to.
Instead, he was going to follow Overlord like a good pet, right out into the busy space station. The Decepticons who worked the station would take one look at him and know how far he'd fallen. It was there for all to see in how he stood in Overlord's shadow, knelt beside his chair, and crawled into his lap on command. The leash held out on open palms right now could be offered to anyone Overlord chose to give him to, and Fortress Maximus would follow the pull no matter who was on the other end so long as his tormentor was the one who gifted the leash away. He'd learned his place, and it was wherever - or under whomever - Overlord told him it was.
The Phase Sixer merely tugged gently on the lip ring for now, half a warning against and half a test of his pet's attitude. It seemed it wouldn't be a problem today, however. The ex-warden subserviently lifted the leash up toward him in response. He loved how the Autobot's helm had already bent, optics down to covertly study his every move. Even from this angle, the expression of dull defeat was obvious. His pet was ready to serve, to anticipate which way he'd step next, which way the pull would come from, where he was expected to follow now.
He gave the chain hanging from Fortress Maximus' lip a last considering look as he picked the leash up again and twined it around his forefinger. It did indeed look best like this.
"Heel, Maxy."
[* * * * *]
(picture available on Ao3 or Tumblr) "Heel, Maxy" by Shibara
[* * * * *]
[* * * * *]
Valentine's Day
[* * * * *]
"Today is the day the Earthlets set aside to celebrate love," Overlord said as he tipped his pet's chin up, curled forefinger gentle and smile utterly cruel. "In celebration, you may have full run of the station for the day."
Fortress Maximus' careful blank mask broke, and wide optics full of disbelief stared up at his captor. Surely this was a joke. A sadistic tease meant to give him hope before stripping it away for his torturer's entertainment. Overlord never allowed him out of sight unless he was leashed and under the control of a particularly lucky Decepticon the Phase Sixer felt like gifting him to for a few hours.
Full run of a neutral space station? What was the catch?
A thumb brushed along his lower lip in a terrible parody of tenderness. Overlord opened his hand to cup the side of the warden's face the way a lover might. He cared for his Autobot so. "But come 08:00, we have a date. My celebration." Full lips curled. Horror dawned across Fort Max's energy field, and he leaned down to savor the sweep of revulsion as his slave realized what he meant. Terror poured down the mech's back struts a second later when Overlord's grip turned hard, yanking on a helm flange. "Don't make me come looking for you, pet."
[* * * * *]
(Picture available on A03 or Tumblr) "08:00" by Shibara
[* * * * *]
His foolish pet didn't heed the warning. Or perhaps he did, but only the warning about what awaited him during their little 'Valentine Date.' Overlord had plans. Fortress Maximus wasn't so tame that he would submit voluntarily.
The defiance did make things interesting.
"Come here, dearest," Overlord sing-songed. He strolled through the corridors of the station with his hands clasped behind his back and a light smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. "You wouldn't be hiding from me, now would you? Would my obedient pet do that?" He stepped aside, nodding cordially to a trio of organic aliens. They averted their many eyes and hustled past, pretending not to hear him calling for his Autobot slave.
The station master had broadcast a warning to all residents and ships: do not help the Autobot. By whatever gods they held dear, do not aid the slave in an attempt to escape, fight back, or hide, or every one of them would be making the acquaintance of the gods in person. Overlord had made that very clear to the station master. When a rogue Decepticon Phase Sixer issued that kind of a threat, a wise station master listened.
Overlord had spent an exceedingly pleasant day imagining how pathetic Fortress Maximus must have seemed, scurrying around the station searching frantically for a way to escape. Failing that, he'd probably looked for weaponry and allies. It must have frustrated him to no end that the inhabitants of the station looked right through him.
Some of the species that patronized this station enslaved other species. Overlord laughed himself to fan-hitching when the first stiff, formal report of locating his missing slave came in. One righteously indignant merchant responded especially poorly once Fortress Maximus grew desperate enough to attempt stealing, and Overlord answered that call to see the Autobot standing wide-opticked in the background of the video feed, caught red-handed.
"Your property is a thief," the merchant said curtly. "I demand payment for taken items."
The urge to start laughing and never stop bubbled up in Overlord's throat. "Oh, I do apologize! It's been some time since he's been without my supervision in public. I'm sure this is just a minor behavioral mistake, easily corrected. Isn't that right, Max?"
He didn't raise his voice, but the warden stopped easing toward the door as if Overlord had nailed his feet to the floor. Treads tight, Fort Max stared at the floor, to the side, at the floor again. Anything to avoid looking directly at the merchant and therefore at the camera. The merchant's sour glare demanded action, however, and the Autobot painfully swallowed whatever hope for a plan he'd been building toward.
One hand slowly reached back and retrieved the stolen items from where they'd been wedged out of sight under his treads. Overlord didn't know why those items and didn't particularly care. The point was to grind in that Overlord held him responsible for their theft - since Overlord was, as his owner, ultimately held responsible for him. Everyone on the station looked at Fort Max and saw a slave, and this was a sweet little reminder that full run of the station wasn't the same as freedom.
Fortress Maximus handed over the items without looking up from the floor.
The merchant sneered as he snatched them away. "Property like this shouldn't be taken off leash. You should control him more closely," he said to Overlord as if advising him. "My friends produce a good line of remote-activated restraints for property like this. Very good brand. Quintessons use. You know it?"
"Hmm, no, but perhaps I'll do some shopping later. Is their shop on the station?" Overlord reset his vocalizer gently when the warden started to inch away. "Don't go leaving yet, pet. You're forgetting something."
Sullen hatred twisted the Autobot's face. Even turned away from the camera, his fight to wrestle his expression under control was enchanting to watch. Still unbroken, Fortress Maximus. Overlord did so enjoy that. It was much more pleasurable to feel his pet fighting under his foot.
"You owe us both an apology for your lapse in judgment," he informed Fort Max in his silkiest tone.
Shame added to the lovely mix turning the warden inside-out.
Overlord sighed. "Very well. If you don't want the rest of your Valentine's Day outing, then apparently I must retrieve you - "
"No!" Alarm turned red optics pale. "No, that's - I want it!" Fort Max took a half-step toward the camera, one hand raised and fear suddenly bleaching the defiance to nothing. "Please, I-I'm sorry." Humiliation sharp as pain sliced into him, but he turned the step forward into a credibly servile bow of apology to the merchant. "I apologize for stealing." Another bow, this one to the camera. He bent lower, hands braced on his thighs, and it was harder to force himself to do if the grimace on his face meant anything. "I apologize for…misbehaving. Please. I'll - I'll be a good pet. It won't happen again." He stayed bent over that way, waiting for judgment.
Of course Overlord taken some time to torment his toy. It was just too tempting to tease Fort Max by holding a kindness out of reach, and it emphasized all over again how the day off, as it were, wasn't a kindness in the least. It was a cruelty. In the end, the warden begged forgiveness on his knees before the merchant and groveled to Overlord of his own initiative, something Overlord normally had to punish him to cringing and stammering for mercy before he would voluntarily do. And for what? A scant handful of hours away from the Phase Sixer in the illusion of freedom. It was a mockery of a life outside of constant torture and slavery.
Despite the humiliation of knowing that, Fortress Maximus had apologized with a sense of urgency his usual monotone delivery of the degrading words couldn't hide. It was a pretense, but it was a bittersweet taste of a life that he needed to cling to. Once granted, a privilege became such a simple method of motivation. Dangle it out of reach, and Overlord's dear pet couldn't help but reach for it. Threaten to take it away, and Fort Max struggled to 'earn' it back.
The rest of the day was rather entertaining in that manner. His toy learned caution. From what the docking master called to tell him, the Autobot hovered around the shipping area for a couple of hours, failing to casually sidle toward a departing ship's open cargo bay doors. The docking master had eventually ordered him out of the area, tired of his loitering and wary of tempting Overlord's wrath. Besides which, Fort Max was big enough that he could cause havoc if he had any crazy notions about hijacking a ship by force.
Fortress Maximus didn't take orders well, but he took them. He retreated back into the station. Overlord rather thought his pet didn't want to risk another angry vidcall.
Just for the fun of it, Overlord headed out into the station himself. The merchant had amused him, and he felt that should be rewarded. They had a long conversation about slavery on the alien's homeworld. The subtle disproval for his slave's bad manners nearly had the Phase Sixer in stitches, and he departed the shop in a search for the merchant's friends' wares. They were entertaining in their own right. He typically wasn't one to spend shanix on frivolous decorations, but when they served a larger purpose besides frilly, fancy restraints, well. How could he resist.
A small sound greeted him when he exited the shop, and Overlord looked up from his receipt to see the widest optics he'd ever seen. Oh. Oh, now this was exquisite chance. He couldn't have timed it better if he'd tried. His lips curved in a terrifying smile. The panic splashed through his pet's energy field spiked so hard he could feel it recoiling from him.
The warden fell into a fighting stance, stumbled out of it, glanced from side to side like an escape route might have appeared from nowhere, and abruptly backpedalled three steps back before stopping dead in the same fighting stance. Indecision and outright terror rattled his helm flanges. His fists shook.
How very nice to see that 'fight or flee' still ruled the mech. The day Fort Max submitted instead of planned would be the day he was broken to heel.
Overlord let go of the bag and receipt with one hand and lifted it to waggle his fingers in hello. "Three more hours, pet. Don't be late."
Raised fists sagged. The warden's mouth worked, speechless. Fans hitching in fear echoed down the hall, and Overlord laughed as he turned to stroll back toward his shuttle. He wondered at the time if his toy had figured out the game, yet.
Perhaps Fortress Maximus had. It was entirely likely that he couldn't muster the courage to surrender to Overlord, anyway. Pride and terror combined probably froze the warden wherever he'd ended up, and now Overlord walked the station softly calling for his pet, thoroughly enjoying their 'date'. He'd up the stakes if the warden didn't come out soon. First some detailed threats of what was in store if Fort Max didn't come like a good slave, then Overlord would start with the emergency pods and destroy the station. A sacrifice of everyone here would rub the Autobot's face in his cowardice, and if Fort Max decided to come out beforehand, it would still make a lesson on obedience. Obey Overlord at once, or else.
It was a rigged game. Overlord liked that kind best.
[* * * * *]