A/N: Might I point out that the rating has gone up to "M." You will run across things that aren't fun to read here, and believe me, it wasn't fun to write. Bear with me, please. It'll turn out all right eventually.

25. Slave

The orn's unpleasant surprises were far from over. Ratbat's guards escorted – more like paraded – me through the halls, kicking the occasional slave out of the way. I tried to make optic contact with the Decepticons, but none of them would meet my gaze. Were they all so terrified of Ratbat? What had he done to them to make them so docile?

And what would he do to me, attempting to make me the same?

The rooms they led me to surprised me. I'd expected some tiny dungeon, but these were lavish and spacious. A knot of suspicion coiled in my fuel tank.

"These aren't mine," I guessed aloud. Ratbat turned, an ugly smile causing his optics to narrow.

"That's right," he answered. "They're mine. In there," he ordered, and the guards took me through the last door. I dug in my turbines at the unwelcome sight of the large, expensive-looking berth.

"Not a chance in the Pit!" I hissed. "If you think you can make a pleasurebot of me then you're—"

"—absolutely correct," Ratbat finished. "You seem to retain the notion that you have a choice in the matter. That should make this entertaining." He snapped his fingers at the guards. "Secure him, then leave us."

I struggled enough for the stasis cuffs to have shocked me dizzy by the time they forced me onto the berth, pinning my arms above my head using a mechanism already in place on the berth. I didn't know which idea was worse, that Ratbat had installed this specifically for me, or that he'd committed such atrocities before.

Their task completed, the other Autobots left the room, leaving me alone with the Senator.

"If you so much as touch me I'll—!"

"You'll what?" Ratbat asked coolly, approaching. I pulled my knees up towards my chest. "Glare at me? I think we are both aware that your threats are empty. As you can see, slave, you are entirely helpless."

He reached out towards my face and I bit him. My reward was a fresh shock from the cuffs and an angry growl. Ratbat jerked his fingers free and backhanded me across the face, making my helm snap to the side.

"Insolent slave," he hissed, his hands gripping my knees and shoving them apart. I thrashed, trying to dislodge him, but the pain from the stasis cuffs limited my actions, particularly when Ratbat reached up to adjust the setting. The slightest twitch prompted a temporary shutdown of my motor functions.

Only when I was immobilized did Ratbat's snarl relax back into a self-assured smirk. "There," he purred. "That's better. It's much easier when you cooperate. Perhaps you may even find this enjoyable."

He leaned uncomfortably close. "You see, slave, while yours are empty threats, I am perfectly capable of carrying mine out." His fingers, designed for holding a stylus or tapping keys and as such capable of delicate touch, walked up my thighs. I stiffened, unable to move away as he traced the seams of my panel, sending little twinges darting around my sensory network.

But I would not open to him, no matter what he did to me. Not even when his mouthplates brushed my neck cables, making me shudder in disgust.

He, perhaps deliberately, misinterpreted it. "I said that you would enjoy it," Ratbat murmured, a nasty smirk pressed against my jaw. "It gets better. Now, why don't you open your panel for me?"

"No."

His smirk dropped a touch. Good, I thought. His touch grew more firm. "Open it."

"No," I answered again. His optics blazed and I would have jerked if I could have as his touch became rough.

"You might have been able to take pleasure in this, slave," he snarled. "Instead, I'm afraid that you may find it somewhat painful."

Ratbat's finger scraped at the sensitive area and I gritted my denta. There was a sudden sharp pain and my panel slid back of its own accord.

"Did you think I don't know my way around a Seeker?" I heard the release of his own panel and I began to protest, opening my mouth to tell him to stop, before his interface cables snapped into me and the shock made me jerk before the cuffs immobilized me again.

"You will learn your place," Ratbat murmured, seizing my damaged wing in one hand. I barely restrained a yelp; the sensor dampener had begun to wear off. "And it is here, beneath me. Soon you will no longer fight it." An energy pulse surged up into me, making me jerk again. He roughly scraped my injured wing; it took all of my willpower not to cry out.

It's just like the beating, I told myself. He can't reach me like this. I won't satisfy him by shouting!

Another pulse set me to trembling. It had been decacycles since Ramrod and I had done this, and it had never been like this with him, never so unwanted, so physically painful as the Senator's hand left a dent in my wing.

"Soon you will beg for it," Ratbat finished, and then his hands were on my canopy, searching around the seams for the manual release as he had done with my panel. I tried to throw him off, but the cuffs and another penetrating energy pulse thwarted me. My ports felt hot, the excess energy from the one-way connection having no escape route.

Ratbat purred triumphantly as he managed to part my canopy. He leaned down to probe at the seam of my chestplates with his glossa and I bit down hard on my own. I knew what he was after, and I would not let him have it…!

But the constant energy from his cables and his ministrations on my chestplates left my processor reeling. The first shield layer parted, then the second, and the glow of my Spark appeared reflected in his faceplates.

"No!" I gasped, but my chestplates wouldn't respond to my commands. "Stop!"

"Ahh, my slave, you have no say in the matter."

Ratbat coaxed my transparent Spark casing open, his touch deceptively gentle, running a finger along the inside. I shuddered, locking my jaw… no more sound, no matter what he did to me…

He moved forward, chestplates shifting and parting, and before I could do anything, anything at all, he merged his Spark with mine.

Heat roared through me, his Spark blazing and hungry, causing all of my systems to seize. The double assault sent my sensory network into giddy fireworks. Despite my best efforts, a ragged moan tore from my vocalizer.

"So you can feel," Ratbat murmured into my audios. "I knew you would give in soon enough. Now, slave… overload for me!"

I resisted, trying to detach myself, but he was pressed too firmly against me, and his Spark pulsed around mine, his cords sent up energy, until it overtook me in a blaze of sparks and static.

The sensory overload left me limp and exhausted. Ratbat disconnected from me almost immediately, his chestplates and panel clicking shut at once. My ports ached as I closed my armor. I'd hoped that the overload might have shorted out the cuffs, but I found to my dismay that I remained immobilized.

"It could have been better," Ratbat said, lounging atop me. "But you will learn. Now that you know my expectations… you will learn."

"You're despicable," I choked out.

"I am your master." I sneered at him. "And you will obey me. You will stay here each night and warm my berth. Each orn I will have… plans for you."

"You'll be sorely disappointed," I answered.

Ratbat's smile sent disgust crawling up and down my backstrut.

"We will see."

And then, to all appearances, the Senator went into recharge.

I lay stock-still beside him, wishing more than anything to be anywhere else. I'll escape, I swore to myself. I'll get out of here… they'll come for me. They'll find me, they'll come to save me…

Until then, I could endure.

I was roughly shaken awake before my recharge cycle had ended. Processor fuzzy, only half-awake, I growled, instinctively trying to strike out, but the cuffs still immobilized me. My arms prickled from restricted energon flow.

"Stir your struts, slave."

I onlined my optics to glare at Ratbat. "I might if you would remove the stasis cuffs."

He smiled. "Perhaps."

Reaching up, he adjusted the setting on the cuffs and unhooked them from the berth. I moved carefully to avoid more painful shocks.

"I'll not have a slave of mine looking as though he crawled out of a slagheap… not yet, at least. Guard."

The door hissed open, revealing another Autobot.

"Take this slave through the washracks, then bring him to my office."

The guard shoved me bodily out, taking me to what, from their size and flamboyance, could only be Ratbat's private washracks. I felt slightly better with the grit of battle off of me, but the scrapes in the paint on my thighs and codpiece stood out even more when clean.

Once I was dry, he took me by the elbow and marched me through the halls again, keeping me off-balance the entire way. Autobots who hadn't seen me the orn before now stopped to stare and whisper.

The guard pushed me through a door and it closed behind me. I glanced around, sneering –Ratbat's office was an extension of the gaudy display of wealth that comprised the rest of the facility. Ratbat himself sat behind a golden desk, a cube of energon (no doubt the finest that credits could buy) at the corner, looking bored as he read a datapad. He set it aside at my entry, smirking.

"Ah, much better." He stood. "Come closer, slave."

I remained stubbornly in place. The Senator laughed coldly.

"Your stubbornness fails to impress me. You'll soon find, slave, that your existence here will be much easier if you obey. Until then, expect nothing but painful reminders of who is in charge."

He drew closer. "That looks like it hurts."

He meant my wing, or what was left of it. It did hurt, the exposed wiring and circuitry practically throbbing with neglect. I glared at him, not bothering to reply. Ratbat stalked around me and I followed him with my optics until he was out of sight. I could still feel him, despite the sorry state of my sensory network.

A moment later, cold hands touched my wings, brushing across the surface, paying special attention to where the plating had been sheared off, fingers stroking across half-self-repaired wiring. His energy field encroached on mine, swirling smugly about him.

"We can't have that," he murmured into my audio.

I shivered and jerked away, ignoring the shock from the cuffs. "Don't touch me," I hissed. "Don't come near me!"

He only laughed. I fumed. It had been many vorns since anybot had outright laughed at me.

"Unfortunately, slave, you have no choice in the matter. Come."

Ratbat gripped my wingtip and twisted, jerking me towards his desk and shoving me down next to it. I hissed and spat, but the stasis cuffs kept me from struggling upright. How dare he set me at his feet, kneeling like a pet, like a… like a slave?!

"What makes them follow you?" he hissed, still pinching my wingtip, tilting my chin up with his other hand. "You're nothing special, not like Megatron. And yet, they follow you. They admire you… their hero. Their beloved leader.

"But do they know you as well as they think?" he purred, optics glimmering with malicious glee. "After all, they didn't see you writhing in overload for me…"

"Mute it!" I snarled, trying to shoot to my landing struts and failing.

"It's a weakness of yours," Ratbat added silkily. "After all, you fell for Highbrow's prize spybot after he got you into the berth."

He wanted an explosion, he wanted my anger… but words were only words. He could not hurt me this way. I could contain myself, I could be serene, like Optimus, let Ratbat's voice slide off me like the wind. No matter how sensitive a subject he pursued, no matter how close to my Spark his comments sliced…

"You become weak towards those close to you. What better way for 'Ramrod' to get information? Did you think that he actually cared for you? A jumble of programmed reactions can feel nothing." His yellow optics narrowed slyly. "What would you say if I told you that your 'friend' still operates as a spy for the Autobots?"

"I would not believe you," I answered immediately.

"Oh?"

"He terminated Highbrow."

"An acceptable loss to regain your trust."

"Why would you tell me this if it was the truth?" I forced out. He was lying, he had to be.

Ratbat leaned forward. "Because you can do nothing about it," he purred. "Because now you must stay here, suffering with the knowledge that a well-placed and completely trusted spybot is passing us information."

"You're lying."

"I'll leave that for you to decide," the Senator answered, then picked up a datapad and resumed his work without sparing me another glance.

I stewed on my knees. He'd been lying. Surely he'd been lying. Torsion had told me everything… we'd freed him, he'd spilled his Spark to me. I trusted him. I trusted both of him…

But what if he's not lying? a nasty little voice whispered deep in my processor. What if Torsion is still working for them?

No. I trusted Ramrod and Torsion.

But you don't really know… you haven't merged your Spark with theirs. How can you be sure where their allegiance lies?

I wanted to trust them… but Ratbat's words had put doubt in my Spark.

If only I could escape! I focused on the stasis cuffs. Without these, I could run… I might stand a chance without these slagging restraints! The problem was getting them off. How was I to do it, or trick someone else into removing them?

The chance came sooner than I'd anticipated. Ratbat drew the cube of energon towards him, took a sip, then set it back down.

"Guard," he called. Evidently the Senator's Autobots waited with audios tuned on his every whim, for he'd scarcely finished the syllable before the door opened and the same guard who had seen me through the washracks entered, saluting. "Remove the stasis cuffs. You look hungry, slave."

I gave no response, but my Spark began to pulse faster. The cuffs would be removed. With my hands free I could draw my remaining sword, still hidden on the bottom edge of my wing… perhaps I could even dispatch the Senator on my way back to freedom.

Once my hands were free, I tensed subtly, cables pulling taut in preparation. I met Ratbat's optics steadily as I lifted the cube as though to drink – ready to move, ready to act…

At the last moment, I jerked my arms, splashing the energon into Ratbat's faceplates. In the same movement my sword fell into my hand, my fingers curling around the hilt, moving to swing the blade in a wide arc, ready to slice the vile mech in two.

The shot took me in the shoulder. The force of it sent me to the ground with a clang, sword spinning out of my reach, even had I been in any condition to use it. The guard kicked me viciously in the side, blaster aimed at my helm.

"Filthy 'con!"

He snapped the cuffs back on and hauled me upright, ignoring the energon spilling from my shoulder. Ratbat's optics glowed almost orange as he picked up my fallen sword and examined it.

"Interesting." He rounded on me again and spat, "You'll wish you'd taken that energon, slave. It's the last you'll taste for a long while."

I sat with my knees pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around my knees, and tried not to move. Every time I shifted, my wings scraped against the walls. I kept my optics offline to save energy; there was nothing to see but the darkness of this cramped, thick-walled cell. Nausea roiled in my fuel tank due to the enclosed space, but I kept it down with iron control… I needed every drop of energon that I had.

They'd forced me in here after my ill-fated escape attempt. At first I'd been relieved that I hadn't been beaten, but after a time I realized that this was worse. The only nonvital I'd kept online was my chronometer, ticking away one klik at a time in the lower corner of my optic field, which informed me that I'd been here for four orns now. My processor was sluggish and I knew that even if I'd had room, I couldn't have moved. All of my systems had shut down one by one at the lack of sufficient energy, until I ran on Spark and processor alone.

Every so often a slot in the door would open, letting in a stream of harsh light. If I was awake, it would simply close again. If I had fallen into recharge, they would rouse me with loud crashes and shouts, completely throwing off my recharge schedule and leaving my nerves shattered.

If I die, I thought grimly, ignoring pangs of hunger and claustrophobia, at least I won't be a slave any longer.

But termination was a relief that Ratbat would not grant me. Just when I felt ready to slide into the choking darkness of stasis lock, the door opened and rough hands dragged me forward, my wingtips dragging sparks from the metal of the walls. Something clacked against my mouthplates and I tasted fresh energon. Too weak to move, all I could do was drink. The amount was barely sufficient to keep me online.

"That's enough," Senator Ratbat's voice snapped. The flow of precious energon was cut off. I onlined my optics to see one of the guards holding a mostly-empty cube and a pair of stasis cuffs. As the Autobot moved to put them on, Ratbat held up his hand. "Those won't be necessary."

He was right, although I wished he weren't. I scarcely had the energy to lift my arm, let alone attack anyone.

"Now, slave," he went on, looking down at me. I met his gaze coolly. "I hope you've gotten some idea of the way we run things here. This is not Iacon, where slaves are easily forgiven their transgressions. Nor, you'll notice, is it Kaon, where they walk about under the illusion of freedom. Even the highest among Decepticons…" He flashed his denta in a cruel smirk. "…is worth no more than an Empty. You, my slave, have forgotten what you are."

He leaned close, almost near enough that I felt the heat of his optics.

"And Optimus Prime isn't here to protect you any more."

Ratbat ensured that I was kept occupied. The Autobots never left me alone; Ratbat or his guards oversaw every moment of my orn. The Senator assigned me small tasks, such as fetching datapads or bringing energon, things I would have done for Optimus without being asked. Here, however, they drove me half insane. Ratbat personally monitored my fuel intake. He alone gave me energon, he alone controlled how much I received and when.

I took my revenge in any way I could, doing my utmost to make things difficult, but my punishments were always severe. I learned to hold my glossa. It would be easier to escape if I weren't locked in the dark cell or chained to the lashrack, and I needed energon if I was to get anywhere.

The chores were relatively easy to bear, but it was harder to bend my pride. The loud comments between the guards, the snickering, all made me hike up my wings. Ratbat's possessive touch, his ironic smile, sometimes made me physically ill, nearly as much as the swamping sky-hunger. Even if I grudgingly submitted to the small tasks, I never went willingly to the Senator's berth. He had to fight for it every time, but have it he did, even if my Spark only showed him disgust and hatred.

Each orn I waited for Starscream to come bursting in at the head of the army and for Ramrod not a traitor to find me and help me tear Ratbat's head from his shoulders. Each orn I would concentrate on my comm, willing it to work.

/Starscream, do you copy? Skywarp? Come in, Soundwave… Is anyone there? Can you hear me?/

But I was no Starscream, to repair my own comm. Some nights I lay aching and used, trying to concentrate my entire being on Apis.

Apis… hear me, Apis, feel my Spark…!

But we were not bondmates, so we did not have that subconscious connection between Sparks. Good. I would never have forgiven myself if she had been forced to feel my pain, unable to help me.

I became intimately familiar with the lashrack, the little angles and contours, the indelible stains, the chips and dents, the sound the chains made when I yanked at them, the scrape of my armor and my now hopelessly cracked cockpit against the metal, the cold surface I panted against as I cooled down. I endured unspeakable pain here; I learned my most agonizing lessons – the ones that I needed the most. Here I learned anguish, humiliation, despair, all the worst kinds of pain a Spark could suffer, and I emerged scarred but strengthened.

Chained facedown I weathered the worst of Ratbat's violent fury, the vicious crackle-buzz of the electrowhip boring into my audios and the burning slash of each strike making me jerk and clamp my mouth shut to close in the screams that wanted to escape. I shuttered my optics and counted the strokes. Soon I would pay him back. I would make him beg for termination, and I would gladly oblige.

Chained faceup was worse… much worse. Here he was at his most sadistic, the peak of his cruelty, his processor unclouded by blind rage, cool and calculating. Here I suffered the most agonizing, the most horrendous acts that a Cybertronian can endure. Here Ratbat forced himself on me in plain view of anyone who walked past, Autobot or Decepticon, pried open my chestplates to thrust his Spark into mine, corrupting my very essence. Here Ratbat won his only victories: broken, unwilling cries only half-aborted, wrenching from my vocalizer without my consent.

When it was at its worst, when I thought that I would break, when I thought that my will would shatter, I shuttered my optics and thought of other things. Little things: the light glittering on Iacon's spires, Kaon rebuilt, rust sticks, the wind, sparring, high-grade, a decent recharge, washracks, clear skies, datapads. More substantial things: flight, Optimus's smile, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Starscream – his smirks and his moods, his pride and his disguised affection.

But most of all, I thought of Ramrod, Torsion, his grin, the way my body ached pleasantly after an enthusiastic session of sparring or interfacing or both, and of Apis… her optics, her handlebars, her accent, her voice, her smile. I would return to that. I would return to them.

Ratbat must have noticed my failure to respond to the worst beatings. During one particularly rough session involving a shockstick and my neck cables, he paused, leaving me to focus my staticky optics.

"Where are you, slave?" he asked, deceptively gentle as his fingers stroked my face. "With your treacherous friend Ramrod? Or perhaps someone else?"

That brought me out of my half-trance. I locked my jaw in sudden determination.

This monster would never get his hands on Apis.

"I need your full attention, slave," Ratbat murmured. "I can't have you flitting off to dreamland every time I try to teach you a lesson. I'll simply have to anchor you to the here and now, won't I?"

And he had the guards undo my chains and take me upstairs. I should have known that this small mercy would lead to something more sinister.

The next orn, the guards took me back to the small audience chamber where the lashrack was kept. For the first time in a long while, I wore stasis cuffs.

What new game has he thought up this time? I wondered.

Ratbat stood in the hall already, accompanied by a small blue-plated Autobot. I eyed them both warily as the guards led me closer, pushing me to my knees before them. Ratbat looked far more cheerful than was safe.

"There you are. Guards, you may leave us. I doubt he'll be in any condition to try anything when we're through with him."

Even more disturbed now, I waited as the guards retreated.

"This is Firewall, with whom you will share no great or lasting acquaintance, but important nevertheless." He turned to the small, unobtrusive mech. "You have your orders."

"Need specifics." Firewall sounded like he had a bug in his vocalizer, giving it an unpleasant buzz. "How much will I leave?"

"Use your discretion, but I want him to remember who he was… it makes the comparison so much more striking." I started, optics widening. Who was this mech, and what was he going to do to me? Ratbat's smirk was not reassuring. "Besides that, I don't care whether or not he knows what planets Sentinel Prime visited during the Golden Age."

"Understood."

Was I imagining it, or did Firewall look eager? If it weren't for the stasis cuffs, I would have tried to run.

The small mech circled around me. I tried to turn my head to look at him, but one of his slim hands gripped my helm – he was stronger than he appeared. A finger probed at the port on the back of my neck before a cable locked into place. I shuddered at the sensation of another presence in my processor, slithering through the cracks in my security to access my memory. I balked, throwing up my defenses, but this only delayed him for a moment. My optics offlined as I started to overheat, my processor objecting to the second consciousness, and my Spark flared in a sudden wash of pity and understanding for Torsion – he must have felt this way every time he met with Highbrow.

Alerts blinked urgently at me, emergency security measures failing, and then the pain began.

Blocks formed, coding building up around my memory files. The significance of Firewall's designation hit me and I raced to defend myself, but he seemed to know my processor as well as I did. I knew now what he was after and I struggled to hold onto my most precious memories… Optimus, Apis… but he was an expert. I could protect files from deletion, but he didn't aim for that. He only blocked, suppressed. I trembled but didn't fall, the hand on my helm keeping me upright. The pain grew to a burn.

As suddenly as it had come, the invading presence was gone, taking with it the supporting hand, and I toppled forward, vents roaring as my systems struggled to cool.

"Designation?" the buzzing vocalizer queried. I briefly contemplated pretending, seeing whether Ratbat would be angry with the other Autobot, but decided against it.

"Nova." My vocalizer grated, spitting static, and I winced. I didn't remember screaming, but perhaps the strain had been enough to damage my vocal processors.

"As ordered," Firewall reported, then fell silent. I could see Ratbat's pedes before me.

"Tch… evidently I underestimated the physical strain. Guards!"

Too weak to struggle, I put up no resistance as the Autobots lifted me by the elbows. I noticed that my chronometer had frozen… even my processor was no longer my own.

I focused inward. I could feel the firewalls, the quarantined memory files. Most of my education had been left intact, as well as a general picture of the past two centivorns, but there were gaps everywhere, faces, entire decacycles missing. I tried to fill in the blanks but failed. These images were based on Spark memory alone, fleeting and insubstantial, and soon vanished.

Exhausted by the attack on my processor, I succumbed to oblivion.