Jetfire was getting close to his prize.
Unfortunately, he would not get to enjoy it.
His cell door slammed open.
The hole he'd proceeded to carve alongside the wall into the neighboring cell had only grown wide-enough to fit through a single servo; though it didn't stop Jetfire from trying to wrestle his entire biting, snarling muzzle out into the other side.
The bleeding predacon was hunched over between its back legs, cowering into the farthest possible corner of its prison cell. It made not a single sound as it's spindly majestic body was held stiff, like a frozen rabbit's.
It was terrified, obviously.
This Soundwave saw, as he held a shockprod at the ready within his servos. Megatron had tackled Jetfire down against the wall, knocking the mechling's helm savagely - repeatedly - into the dense prison-cell metal.
Over.
And over.
Jetfire's head clanged against metal.
Megatron's servos clamped over Jetfire's impishly-small skull, simply.
Ssssssppppppllllllliiiiccccckkkkk-!
Black energon burst forth from an orange melon.
Over and over Megatron wacked that helm.
But Jetfire.
Refused.
Over and over Megatron punched him in the processor.
His knees buckled forward.
His servos scrambled to catch his weight.
But Jetfire.
Refused.
He wasn't going limp like Megatron had expected.
The beast of a mechling lunged upward, swinging his claws to get some desperately needed space between himself and Megatron.
The hulking, blackened-silver figure blocked any further movement from the cell - but Jetfire could barely process the situation in front of him - plotting an escape was beyond him.
Something had attacked him.
So he attacked back.
He was far too stupid and feral to realize just who was in front of him.
His cracked open skull oozed energon, the black substance burned down his neck and back plating. Before Jetfire could take another step further, Soundwave stepped forward with his shockprod. The hissing blue-end was jutted into Jetfire's chassis, and both Soundwave and Megatron jumped backwards, expecting Jetfire to fall over into involuntary stasis-lock.
But Jetfire.
Refused.
To lose.
But he could not move.
He kept his optics on, sharp with sparkeater-yellow and the burning of his spark's reflected green-flame.
The shockprod was still held against his chest, ready to spit another discharge against his tired, unfueled body. Jetfire accepted the situation in the most dramatic fashion possible. One clawed servo grabbed at the shockprod's stem and half-heartedly tried to wrestled it from Soundwave's grip - his other servo twitched his claws up and down, waving the entire appendage around as if it were a whip, ready to lash a mech apart.
Jetfire's sparkeater-coding was in full effect, but even then he wrestled against the savage urges. He remembered still, how he didn't recognize his body - more hulking and armored - unlike his faster, more flexible form - his sparkeater-coding was prompting him to run, to slip and to weasel past his overwhelming prey - to survive another day.
But Jetfire couldn't, he was too huge. Such a revelation took only nanoclicks to compute before Soundwave jutted the shockprod again, now into his side - Jetfire shrieked but did not fall over. He was reminded too quickly of his arena fight with Soundwave not too long ago - how the mech had kept shocking him over and over like a particularly hardly horsefly.
In his distracted state, Megatron grabbed hold of his free lashing servo. Jetfire expected the mech to crush it and in his growing state of fear, he looked away, expecting a cacophony of pain to overwhelm his systems.
But it never came. Instead, Soundwave shocked him again - but his body was quickly adapting to resist bouts of discharge.
There was no longer pain associated with a shockprod.
In his disheveled sparkeater-mind - perhaps the electrical attacks were beginning to be perceived as delicious.
He tried to pull his servo away from Megatron's grip and he was surprised when Megatron let his hand go - though it was instantly obvious as to why.
Jetfire's servo had been clasped into one end of a pair of stasis-cuffs, and the other end was tied to Megatron's own servo.
'What-' He had no time to think as Megatron's fist impacted his helm. He withered to the ground - but did not fall into stasis-lock. His sparkeater-yellow optics burned into Soundwave's visor-plate, ignoring Megatron entirely.
All he could see was his own warped reflection across that clean surface - and whatever expression would've passed for concern from Soundwave was aptly ignored.
Megatron hurriedly dragged Jetfire away, doing so with a purposeful speed - in which to disorient his prisoner, and to allow white and orange paint to viciously scrap across the prison's flooring.
New Kaon Arena
Megatron allowed himself half-a-minute to recuperate from his ordeal, from having had to drag Jetfire down to the arena by his own power - though the bot was a mechling, his new armor made him nearly as heavy as any full-grown mech. "Now Autobot-whelp," he spat the words with red-hot ire. "You are either going to impress me in the following breem, or I am going to kill you." Truth be told, Jetfire had already impressed Megatron, mildly, somewhat - the mechling had taken discharge after discharge from Soundwave's shockprod - and countless pummelings from his very own fists - through it all the mechling had remained standing, his expression consistently defiant - though such a resistance to pain was attributed to Jetfire's upgrades, and not from any true ability on Jetfire's part.
'Such a disappointing thought-' Megatron snarled, sending a punch rocketing into Jetfire's chassis. '-if this mechling's success is merely an illusion, owed to Shockwave's mere experimental tinkering.' The mechling spun on the ped-metal of his talons, as Megatron unclasped their tethered servos, discarding the stasis-cuffs against the railing of the arena.
He watched as the mechling positioned himself into a sloppy fighting-stance - though what stood ready to fight him could hardly be described as a child anymore - Jetfire resembled any mech; he barely stood out amongst those long ago who had ever made the last mistake of defying him.
His power.
"Come at me Autobot-scum!" Megatron gestured towards his person, a dark sadistic-frown permeated his features. "Prove to me you're worth keeping alive."
Jetfire had no response.
Or perhaps he did - his glossa moved but no sounds came out - his vocal-cords completely fried.
It didn't matter to Megatron.
He didn't need words to know that the Autobot was terrified.
With the grace of a master gladiator, another punched was aimed and landed against Jetfire's side. The mechling screeched, but it appeared more from surprise than pain - as the mechling - the Autobot - didn't hesitate to sink an entire servo of claws into Megatron's shoulder-plates, underneath the clasped armor-welds, deep into his fleshy protoform.
If given enough time, Jetfire could've perhaps, cleaved his prey in half, from the shoulder down. But Megatron looked bemused, before snapping the offending claws clean off their servo - he swung a chopping fist down onto Jetfire's hand - the claws detached into the meat of his wound.
Megatron showed no signs of pain as his shoulder oozed energon - with a suspicious purple-tint. It did not smell appealing to Jetfire, who was dumbfounded to witness Megatron crash into him, almost stomping him clean into a pile of scrap across the arena grounds, yet he was able to scramble awkwardly away, preventing himself from crashing into the ground with the bulk of his new body.
Jetfire wasn't a newborn-spark, having killed mechs larger than Megatron; albeit weaker and ones sans any notorious reputation. He swung his now clawless-servo at Megatron's face - scratching at the unprotected meat there - aiming not to damage, but to annoy. He jabbed a broken claw as if it were a dagger-hilt into Megatron's optic, hissing in delight when the eyeglass imperceptibly cracked.
Getting prey off-kilter, was the key to Jetfire's success.
Megatron made not a sound as he again crashed into Jetfire - punching his bleeding helm again - and again.
And again.
Jetfire could only howl in amusement. He had been punched so many times in the head already - it meant nothing - to his sparkeater coding. He allowed Megatron the joy of punching his helm over and over - all the while sparkeater-yellow rolled uneasily within his optics.
His coding took over and there was little of Jetfire left.
Fangs sliced into Megatron's fist, and there was a grumble of surprise from both sides.
Megatron ceased his flurry of punches - examining the nasty bite wound across his knuckles - it burned unlike any other wound.
Jetfire simply stood in place, glaring hauntingly down at Megatron - as if he'd won.
He licked his lips.
Megatron's blood was there.
Soundwave emerged from the arena shadows - shockprod in hand. Such a sight was becoming routine to Jetfire - the hissing prod went into his side and he made a show of buckling his knees - as if the shockprod could hurt him.
'Silly Soundwave.' He mused. He toyed with the idea of biting Soundwave too, with the flesh of the mech's legs so tantalizingly close to Jetfire's mandibles - but something within him - told him to stop. Jetfire desperately wanted to wash his mouth out with something else, besides Megatron's energon - he nibbled his clawless-servo, caked also in a generous amount of Megatron's energon - but there was nothing else to drink or eat, to purge the wretched cursed flavor.
Either way.
The taste of Megatron's purple energon was wrong.