Warning: There is some sensitive material in here. Contains violence, blood and torture. If you don't like reading things like that, then I suggest you turn back, because it's only going to get worse from here on out.

After the burning stopped, there was a space of time in which he just lay there, shuddering from the aftershocks whilst staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on something to stop himself slipping under.

The shudders decreased until he only tremored every few minutes and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. The burning had reminded him of the dream he still had yet to figure out. Every time he thought he had a hold on it, it slipped through his mental fingers and he lost it again. It was so frustrating.

It was a full day until he saw Simmons again; at least, he thought it was a day. It sure felt like it.

But when the agent came back, there was a black rage storming in his eyes. He was holding what looked like sharp metal pins in his hand.

"Are you going to co-operate today?"

Megatron stayed silent, choosing not to answer, or act, until he knew what was wanted of him.

"I want to know the secrets of your kind, the weaponry. I want them so that we can crush every opposition to the United States of America with no mercy!"

He shifted slightly, and heard the chains move with him, scraping across the floor. He had been all for the human race becoming extinct when he had been a Cybertronian, but since he had become one of them, he had a feeling of...empathy?

He knew that that the secrets of their weaponry would cause more harm than good throughout the planet. Chaos would literally explode if humanity got their hands on it, their violent, eager hands that itched for weapons. Not all of them were like that, but he could see Simmons was one of them, itching for the alien tech that would make him famous for destroying all other army opposition. But it was...wrong.

Megatron steeled himself and shook his head, his eyes hard and cold as ice. Simmons' eyes darkened even further and he crouched down, grabbing one of the other man's wrists in his hand, wrenching it towards him.

The human Decepticon couldn't help but feel uneasy. What was this twisted human going to do?

He jolted up. A stinging pain consumed his hand. Simmons was pushing the pieces of metal under his fingernails. He pushed harder and the pain only increased. He jolted again but tried to remain calm. His reaction was what he craved and he wasn't about to give him one. At least not until he couldn't bear anymore. Soon he inserted a second piece of metal and he jolted up in pain. His fingers began to bleed under the nails. Blood oozed from under the fingernails and onto Simmons' fingers. He didn't care. All he cared about was watching him suffer and he couldn't exactly take all the pain from his face. After all, he was 'human'.

"Ah!" a jolt of pain hit him when he pushed harder into his hand. The pain was unbearable and he knew soon he would be showing that to Simmons and that pissed him off.

Each time was agony, his fingers burning like they were being dipped in acid. Blood ran from under the nails and down his fingers, dripping to the floor with a quiet drip.

When Simmons was finished, he kicked him hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him, before exiting the room and slamming the barred door into the frame, locking it with a jangle of keys and storming back down the corridor.

Maggie rubbed her eyes, trying to get herself out of the sleepy state she was in. She yawned almost silently and then dropped her fingers back to the keyboard, taking a sip of extra strong coffee and wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste.

"This could probably choke a donkey..." She muttered under her breath, looking down at the mug as she swished the liquid around the porcelain container.

"Maggie!"

She spun around in her chair, her face lighting up as she recognised the voice and her dark skinned friend running towards her, waving a hand in the air.

"Glen!" She leapt at him, hugging him as tightly as she could. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"It's good to see you too Mags." He smiled before laying a hand on her arm, his gaze turning serious. "Now, you said your friend had been taken by that government group in that signal we were tracking?"

"Sector Seven, and yes, we have security footage."

"Did you check the licence plate?"

"Of course we did. Apparently, it doesn't even exist. It's not registered under anyone's name or address."

"And you have no idea where the bases of operation these guys have are?"

"No, they're pretty good and staying on the down low. They get involved in things they shouldn't, but we hardly ever know why they want what they want, or where they go afterwards."

Glen was quiet for a minute, looking down at the floor as he thought hard on what to do.

Megatron slid the last blood needle out from under his fingernail and threw it away from him, watching the smear of bodily fluid it left behind as it clattered across the concrete surface.

It felt like he had been enduring it for hours and there was nothing he could do. His instinct was to punch him in his good for nothing face, but he couldn't and that frustrated him.

He hadn't noticed through everything how much his fingers really hurt. The pain got stronger when the needles were removed from under his fingernails. He looked down at his hands but could barely see through the tears that had welled up. His fingernails were bleeding underneath. It looked insane! Blood trickled from them and onto the floor. The stinging sensations centred at the ends of his fingers were almost impossible. He tried to take his mind off the pain, tried to think of something else.

Maggie.

What he wouldn't do to see her silky blond hair, her beautiful green/blue eyes, to hear her accent in her voice right now but if he gave Simmons what he wanted, then it would end in disaster for both her, and the rest of the world. It would mean the death of her and Mikaela, the two humans he really cared about. And even the ones he didn't. The Witwicky boy, Robert Epps, that college friend of Sam's, and that soldier that had made him use a wheelchair when his shoulder had been split open by the transformation.

He missed them, even if he wasn't friends with them. He never thought he'd ever say it, but he missed Optimus. He missed his brother. His eyes which had been welling up spilled over and he didn't wipe it away, letting it run down his cheek and onto his clothing.