Notes:

This is the chapter where nothing happens and we just basically spend some time with each captive decepticon and Ratchet. Because I love to stop and focus on emotions and mental conditions. Don't judge me..

Anyway, thanks for the continued support and enjoy this chapter! (Btw I haven't had the time to properly check this, so please ignore any mistakes until I can fix them)

Chapter Text

Knock Out quietly shushed the squirming bundle in his arms, pressing Wildbreak closer to his chestplate when the child began to cry. He missed his sire, having already gotten used to him and could not understand why Breakdown suddenly wasn't there with them. He could not understand why his carrier trembled whenever the white mech walked in, why he'd hold him just a bit tighter before carrying him to another room, depositing him amongst the few soft thermal sheets there were, before walking away and not answering him for a long, long time. Most of all he was confused why his parent looked so upset after each visit, pearly white faceplates looking ghostly and scaring him. But he always enjoyed it when his carrier picked him up, crooning softly and pressing him against his red chestplates so he could hear the steady spark beat that never failed to calm him. Wildbreak enjoyed making faces at his parent's polished and shiny armor, giggling at his reflection, but recently, no matter how hard he tried, the little mechling could not see it. What he did see was the dullness, the new silver scratches that stretched across his shoulder pauldrons, all the way down to his chest and then to his abdomen. The sparkling didn't like them. They upset his carrier. For now though, he curled against the red mech's warm frame, chirping quietly in accomplishment when he managed to hook his tiny claws in Knock Out's armor, hoisting himself up and pressing himself even closer into the warm embrace, a silver servo bracing his back in case he lost his grip.

Dim red optics glimmered as they looked down at the little form, silent tears dripping down white faceplates, long digits softly caressing his son's round cheek. A soft smile stretched across his faceplate as small yellow optics looked up at him, a questioning chirp sounding across the small room as if the kid were asking his parent why he was crying too. Knock Out shushed him quietly, pressing a gentle kiss against the sparkling's helm even when the little one squeaked in protest, swatting at him with one tiny servo. The racer chuckled softly at his child's indignation, watching him adoringly as Wildbreak settled more comfortably against him to sleep. Absentmindedly he rubbed soothing circles over his son's back, gently coaxing him into recharge and leaving his carrier to his thoughts.

Smokescreen wasn't happy. News of the successful coupling with the other captive decepticons had already reached him and he would not be left behind in the dust. Knock Out had already recovered from his last birthing and it wouldn't be long before it was safe for him to be sparked again. Ratchet would not be able to help him this time. Due to the increasing unrest, they could not place the Autobot medic in Iacon prison, just like the captive decepticons, so they kept him here, where he could be used to further their needs. Now it was Pharma who oversaw their physical examinations, Ratchet only being present when the current carriers were brought in. Knock Out felt a savage sort of glee when he had heard how Megatron had thrown the white and blue medic halfway across the room when he had tried to touch him, only calming down once Ratchet stepped in. Even strapped down, starved and violated the former warlord was a force to be reckoned with. Pharma was smart enough not to taunt the silver mech after that. Knock Out hated those invasive examinations. It was like he wasn't even treated like a sentient being anymore, more like a rare animal. He loathed it.

Wildbreak stirred and only then did he realize that in his thoughtful state, he'd let his emotions bleed into his field, filling it with burning rage and feelings of injustice and fear. The racer instantly pulled it back, humming softly to the little mechling and urging him back to sleep. It was increasingly difficult to urge the child to recharge as if he could sense his parent's distress and thus stayed awake alongside him. It warmed Knock Out's spark and worried him at the same time.

In truth, he was absolutely terrified. With the recent news of Cybertron's rapidly falling birth rate, the decepticons were absolutely essential for the council to maintain some form of control. They needed at least one of the parents to be Autobot. Wildbreak, born of two decepticons, was a threat. Knock Out doubted that it mattered whether Bulkhead was still willing to pay for him or not. The child could be disposed of. The medic couldn't allow it to happen, would put his own life on the line for his son, but he would be easily overpowered. His long digits curled protectively over the sleeping sparkling, holding him even closer, as if he could shield him from the horrifying possibilities. Wildbreak meant everything to him and Breakdown. They were already torn apart, their bond blocked off artificially, they could not lose their sparkling as well.

Breakdown. He missed his conjunx so much. The blue mech always knew how to make him smile, how to make the war seem just a bit more bearable. He was always there when Knock Out needed him the most, a comforting presence that offered stability and safety. Those few hours when he'd been captured by MECH were absolute hell for the red medic. Megatron hadn't been aware of their bond then, it was only later when Starscream had yet again failed to hold his glossa that the silver mech learned their secret. They'd expected punishment, but were surprised when Megatron not only didn't react violently, but also ordered Soundwave to rearrange their duties, so that they'd always be in closer proximity to each other. It was like the warlord was relieved even. Secretly glad even that bonds could still be forged during a terrible, eons long war. Knock Out and Breakdown never allowed their relationship to interfere with their responsibilities, worked their afts off instead. That was how they showed their gratitude.

He looked down at the sparkling in his arms and slowly stood up, taking great care not to jostle the small bundle too much as he made his way to his berth, grimacing in disgust at the fluids still sloshing inside him and staining his thighs. Knock Out could wash off the Autobot's filth later, all he wanted right now was to be as close to his child as possible, unwilling to leave him in the lonely crib in the adjoining room. The red mech didn't trust the guards to not take his son away while he was asleep. Wildbreak didn't seem to mind the movement, snuggling closer, small systems purring in recharge and the medic couldn't stop smiling if he tried. He looked so much like Breakdown, no matter how much the blue bruiser tried to tell him otherwise. Amusement coursed through him at the memory of how their latest bickering was broken up by Starscream when the seeker promptly plucked the child from Breakdown's arms before rejoining Megatron and Dreadwing in a huff, telling them to 'keep it down, glitcheads'. It was so much like the old times, when they were back on the Nemesis, believing that they were winning the war. Knock Out couldn't believe he was actually thinking this, but he missed those times. Times when he had been free.

He closed his optics, curling protectively around the small form in his arms and urged himself to sleep, silently telling himself that if anyone could get them out of this, it'd be Soundwave and Shockwave.

In another room, Airachnid paced restlessly from corner to corner. Her frame ached uncomfortably and walking hurt. She did so anyway, unable to go to recharge, anger roiling in her spark and bleeding into her field. The only thing she could think about was sinking her claws into Arcee's faceplate, tearing it into shreds, staining her servos with the femme's innards and energon- but then the memories would come back to the surface and she would push them down furiously, feeling the fear that she could not get rid of no matter how hard she tried. Gritting her sharp dentae, the femme hissed, flaring what was left of her long spider-like limbs as if waiting for the familiar deadly glint of her blades, as if she still expected acid to drip from her dangerous fangs. Never in her life had the femme ever felt so.. helpless, so scared. The terror tied her movements better than any energon chain, keeping her from fighting and Airachnid hated it. Loathed how she could no longer rely on her hate and anger to fight. Because she knew what would happen if she tried.

Releasing a frustrated cry, she slashed as the wall, claws raking deep scratches in the wall that she knew she would later be punished for, but the decepticon couldn't bring herself to care. She had to get rid of this fear that bound her. Purple optics dimmed when the door opened with a soft hiss, cold blue light enveloping her dark form. The femme didn't need to turn around, she already knew who it was.

Dreadwing looked up, audials straining, but failing to catch any more noise in the stillness of the warship. His servo brushed absent mindedly against his dented chestplates, feeling the unusual warmth there. The seeker supposed that he shouldn't be surprised, he should've expected it to happen sooner or later. Seekers in particular were known for large litters and seeing as Dreadwing had had a split-sparked twin, he suspected the same thing happened here. Some part of him wondered why he couldn't hate them. If not for the wrecker's violation, they would not have been kindled in the first place. But.. it wasn't their fault.. who their sire turned out to be. Though the blue seeker could not yet feel their emotions (it would be several weeks before he could), he knew they loved him. Fully. Unconditionally. They cared and cherished him. And he loved them in return. If anything, the sparklings were his, not Wheeljack's. They were Dreadwing's. Some part of Dreadwing wondered if his emotions were purely instinctual. Seekers were known caretakers before the war. He'd be lying if he said it didn't worry him, the mere possibility that his love could be fake. Dreadwing couldn't put them through that. His children did not deserve that.

Hauling himself up to his pedes, he began to pace, wincing all the while. After almost six Earth years spent in Autobot custody, the blue seeker looked rather worse for wear. His blue paint had mostly flaked off, leaving only silver and pale cerulean metal behind, his golden faceplates had lost most of their luster, long dark lines of exhaustion and mental torment framing the contours of his face and optics which were almost frighteningly dim. The seeker's armor was badly dented and he walked with a noticeable limp - a sure sign of multiple beatings. Wheeljack liked to remind him of the lives he'd taken.

Dreadwing tried telling himself that he'd done what he had to. They were at war, the wreckers were an elite team that needed to be taken care of. He was neutralizing a possible threat. Seaspray's death had been quick, the old bot probably hadn't even realized what was happening before it was too late. But that wasn't enough for Wheeljack. At first, Dreadwing had not felt the least bit guilty for what he'd done. Sure, some part of him pitied the Autobot, understood his grief because it was so similar to how he'd lost his brother, but there was no regret. He had done his duty as a decepticon officer, done what he had to for his cause. Any other soldier in his place would've done the same, granted if they were courageous enough to face two wreckers head on. But as time went by, Wheeljack's hurtful words and accusations began to stir up doubt within him. If only he hadn't killed Seaspray, would he have been spared this cruel fate? If only he hadn't pissed off the wrong mech...

He tightly crossed his servos over his chest, sharp digits digging into light blue armor and raking deep grooves in it, bringing up light beads of energon that he either didn't notice or cared for. "Perhaps," Dreadwing wondered, " I deserve this." His comm crackled to life and he gladly turned all of his attention on it, putting every single thought aside to focus on the voice filtering through. He was glad for this at least, the secure channel that the Autobot medic had provided them with so they could offer each other some comfort in this Pit. It was Megatron speaking to them now, addressing each of them in turn. Those who didn't reply were no doubt in the presence of an Autobot and the warlord paid the most attention to them, giving them the sound of his voice to latch onto to distract themselves from what was happening to them at that very moment. Megatron was never much of a comforting type, so he talked about how the decepticons would rise up again, how they'd take over Cybertron and make the autobots pay for their crimes. Dreadwing listened to the graphic description of how Optimus Prime would be torn limb from limb, his vile energon spilling and taunting the ground beneath their pedes. He tried to channel his decepticon bloodthirstiness, but could not find it, only deep exhaustion and the silent acceptance of his fate. He had no desire to continue fighting. If he did, he would only anger more mechs.. Mechs that would not hesitate to make him pay the same way Wheeljack had. He slowly sank onto the berth, pressing his knees close to his chest as he curled up in the farthest corner from the door, burying his helm in his servos. Dreadwing was no longer sure of his place in this Primus-forsaken world.

Breakdown lamented the loss of the privacy his and Knockout's sparkbond had provided as he spoke to his mate over the single comm line they had, his old insecurity and anxiety rising up to the surface as he was too acutely aware that the other decepticons were listening. But he had to know that Knock Out was okay, that their son was alright as well. A soft smile spread across his faceplate as the racer described how Wildbreak would twitch and kick his pede in his sleep, just like Breakdown did, how his pointed audials would flick when his carrier tried to caress them with his pointed digits. He couldn't hold back a chuckle when Starscream feigned a retching noise and engaged in a brief sarcastic verbal war with the red medic, his smile widening as he caught Megatron's quiet huff of amusement. They were content to let the two squabble, enjoying the sense of normalcy the action provided as it reminded them of the days before their capture when the two vain mechs would try to outdo each other at almost anything, while, strangely, remaining the closest thing they could be to friends. In the end however, the former warlord had to step in, quietly rebuffing both officers. Knock Out and Wildbreak needed to hear Breakdown's voice. Warmth engulfed his spark when he heard the sleepy chirps of his son, as if the little one was questioning why everybody was so loud this early in the morning. Wildbreak already had Knock Out's attitude it seemed, the red mech was surprisingly not much of a morning person either. The blue bruiser couldn't hold back the broad smile that stretched across his faceplate when Wildbreak's squeaks became delighted as the child recognized his parent's voice, desperately questioning why he wasn't there with him and carrier. "I know, sweetspark, I know" He whispered sadly. "I wish I could be there with you too." He could practically feel Knock Out's longing and sorrow and addressed his conjux, promising that he would do everything to reunite them. Breakdown knew that the racer relied on him to uphold that promise.

The brief silence that had fallen between them was soon broken by Wildbreak's indignant chirps, as if the child didn't understand why everyone was so quiet again. None of the decepticons could hold back their laughter as the youngling chased away the grimness by demanding their attention in an almost insolent, insistent manner. Megatron couldn't hide the mirth if he tried, lightly teasing Starscream to bow down to his new lord. It caused them to briefly stiffen in shock. How long had it been since Megatron had actually joked? Several millennia at the least. The tension bled away as Starscream gave an equally sarcastic reply and they shared a lighthearted laugh again, glad to pay attention to something other than their grim situation.

It was then that Ratchet joined in, quietly inquiring each of their health. If Breakdown didn't know better, he'd say that the medic was almost timid in his intervention. Perhaps the situation was just too odd for him, he had spent a long time fighting against them after all. Knock Out eagerly joined in, most likely not to be outdone by the the Autobot as he too was a medic and probably was quite eager to show his own knowledge and skills. Ratchet was less than amused, though slightly relieved, by the return of the racer's usual arrogance. Breakdown and Dreadwing sighed simultaneously as Starscream entered the fray and the three most sarcastic mechs between the two armies engaged in a verbal battle, sarcasm practically dripping from each uttered sentence. Well, this was obviously going to take a while.

He leaned back on the helmrest, idly tapping his blunt digits against the berth's firm surface as he listened to the argument, glad for the distraction it provided. Unsurprisingly it was Ratchet who won in the end, immediately going back to inquiring about each of his patients. He had to be honest, it was quite entertaining to listen to him berate Megatron for moving his strained arm (apparently throwing Pharma had been a bit harder for the silver mech than they had thought), the warlord gruffly telling the medic that he was not a weak sparkling. Breakdown could practically feel the large mech's optic roll when Ratchet crossly informed him that he sure acted like one. Truly, the Autobot medic was either fearless or had an extreme death wish.

Somehow the conversation steered to Soundwave and Shockwave, Dreadwing in particular worried about their condition. The blue bruiser suspected that it was because of the respect the seeker had for the communications officer as Soundwave's loyalty was just as unquestionable as the seeker's. Ratchet didn't go into details, told them what they along with the autobots already knew. That both of them were safe and that was really all that mattered. The decepticons understood why he wouldn't tell them more, for all they knew, this comm line could be compromised. They couldn't risk letting something slip that would lead the autobots straight to the two 'cons who had for now being able to evade capture. All they could do was have faith that they would be able to free them.

After some time Airachnid joined in, voice hoarse as if she had just spent the last few hours screaming. Grim silence fell between them again as it did not take a genius to figure out what had been happening to the black femme while they were talking. When Ratchet tried to cautiously inquire about her state, she shot him down furiously, venom dripping from each word. She did not want to talk about what had occurred. The Autobot medic didn't pressure her, respectfully backing off until she was more willing to discuss her injuries.

They comforted each other all throughout the night and into the day, none of them getting much sleep as every time they closed their optics, the nightmarish memories of what they'd gone through took hold.

Starscream sighed as the comm line finally went quiet, glancing out of the lone window of his room, squinting as Cybertron's sun slowly rose over the horizon, gold light seeping into the dark enclosed space. He longed to fly, to feel the wind against his wings as he soared through the sky, but he knew it would be a long while before he could and even that depended on whether or not they managed to escape. And if they did.. well, with his new status as a carrier, he would have to be careful. A sneer pulled at his upper lip and his wings twitched in displeasure, long digits curling into fists. If only he could sink them into the Autobot second in command. He didn't care that he stood no chance against Ultra Magnus now in his weakened and flightless state. Starscream wanted the mech to feel just as much pain and suffering as he had for these past few years.

First the Iacon Prison, then the forced slavery.. The autobots truly were vile. Pretending to be so righteous only to turn into slavers and rapists once victory was theirs. But were they always that way? When Airachnid had left him for dead, lying in a helpless heap, her webbing effectively keeping him trapped, they could've killed him then. In fact, they could've executed him right after he'd told them where the Immobilizer was. So why hadn't they done so then? Shame coursed through the silver seeker as he remembered how he'd taunted them with their teammate's death. Cliffjumper.. Starscream has used Cliffjumper's death so many times to taunt them, to make them give in to their emotions and thus to provide an opening in their defenses. Could that have pushed them over the edge? If not all, at least some?

No, he couldn't blame himself for this. Nothing gave the autobots the right to torment them like this. It wasn't as if they were completely innocent. If he remembered correctly, the wreckers in particular were responsible for many gruesome deaths of his decepticon comrades. It was war, both factions were fighting for what they believed in. And unfortunately their clashes resulted in many deaths on both sides.

But what would've happened if the decepticons had won? Starscream liked to think that they would've never resorted to sexual slavery. Yes, they would've tortured the autobots, taunted them, floated over their victory before executing them, but rape and forced carriage? No, they would've never done that. Most of the decepticons came from lower castes and unfortunately many were already familiar with such violation. If it hadn't happened to them, it had definitely happened to someone they knew. That kind of trauma.. Only a truly twisted person could do that to another. Nothing they had done could've warranted such punishment.

Starscream had always believed in the decepticon cause, despite his multiple attempts to overthrow Megatron. He never doubted his actions, did everything to gain the freedom they envisioned for the cybertronian race. The seeker never stopped to regret his actions, even when his decisions resulted in the death of his trinemates. None of them gave in to doubt. Not him, not Soundwave, not Megatron. Even though they paved their way through a mountain of corpses, they kept moving forward because they believed in what they were fighting for.

The autobots never held the same belief for theirs. Doubt wormed in their sparks and when their friends kept dying because of their mistakes they began to lay blame. At first they blamed themselves until they found a different target to pour all their hatred upon. The decepticons. Each death, each failure was the 'Cons's fault. And the anger and hatred grew. When the war finally ended, there was barely anything left of the autobots. Only cruel, hateful mechs were left behind. Optimus Prime was no exception. He was no god, the mech was just as normal as each of them and had lost himself in his emotions just as much as his soldiers had. There was nothing anyone could've done to prevent it.

Ratchet, Bumblebee and Blurr however still believed. The Autobot medic was no stranger to loss, even before the war many mechs had died on his surgical table. Bumblebee was a youngster, still believing in the greater good and Blurr used to be a spy. The blue racer had seen too many atrocities committed by both sides to be able to blame one faction for each mistake.

Starscream shook his helm, glancing out of the window to watch the rising sun. No, they were not to be blamed for what the autobots had become.