The lights hum died as they turned off for the night, shadowing him in darkness, save for the haze of blue energy that ran through his shackles and the glow of his own red optics. His forearms shook, the sound of metal scratching against each other filling his audio receptors. He stood, his body hunched at the pull of their tether. The only thing he could do past sitting was lie down, and the chain would elongate ever so much to allow him to do so.
These humans didn't deserve the right to use cybertronian technology against him. He yanked at the shackles and they in turn released a potent shock through his system. He gritted in pain, holding back his cries. The humans did not deserve the satisfaction of hearing or seeing his pain. It seemed to be the only thing they wanted in this forsaken place.
The door below him unlocked and he turned his attention to the small shadow that walked inside. A growl escaped him. He was not in the mood for this tonight.
The button box was snatched from its place and in the light of his optics he watched Deagon Burgiss, the first human to die when he got out, making his way up the stairwell.
"Quite the night outside," the man tempted fate with his tone. "Too bad you can't ever see it."
Megatron sat idle. He wasn't going to show this man his indignation for him - it was already well known how much the man was hated in the whole prison, by prisoners and guards alike. But himself. . . He held the most hatred for this man. He would start a war again just for the sake of killing Deagon.
"Warm summer breeze. Sweet smell of bread from the factory nearby. It's unfortunate that you've set yourself up for one of the worst failures known to humankind."
"I am not one of your kind." Megatron snided. He grimaced as pain seared through his system, Deagon's hand pressed firm onto the button in his hand.
"I'm trying to figure out where I asked for your input." he released the button and Megatron forced his body to sit still, despite the small shocks that made it want to twitch. The only thing he couldn't control was his optics and their lights. He knew from Deagon's expression they reacted to the pain far more than his body did. The satisfaction in the man's smile was infuriating.
It made him want to clench his fleshy body between his hands and squeeze every ounce of life out of him he could manage until he was a mangle of limp flesh. The image made the mistake of a smile and pain seared through him again. He couldn't mask the grunt this time, his body leaning forward as his fists clenched from inside the shackles.
"So," Deagon's voice echoed in the room, in his mind, penetrating levels of anger so deep Megatron felt he could have cracked his shackles open in that moment. "You like your new shrink? If she's not good at her job, at least she's a looker." Deagon leaned himself across the chair and played with the box in his hands. "Not that you things are attracted to humans." he barked a laugh. "Now that would be somethin' wouldn't it? Human and cybertronian. Not like I haven't heard those rumors 'round the bars though. Although, one might think, how would certain-"
"Will you shut up." Megatron's voice was tired, his chords still twitching from the shock.
"What?" Deagon's tone feigned shock. "You don't want our nightly guy time? I quite like this time. Lets me get a few things off my chest. If you'd listen a little better, you might appreciate my presence here more."
"Go slag yourself, human." Megatron spat.
The man's voice darkened as he leaned forward in the chair, his arms pressed into the metal table. "Is that a threat, Megs?" he spat his name.
Megatron drew up as much as he could and leaned forward toward Deagon. "One day, human," he spat the title. "It will be."
Deagon stood up and pressed down onto the button repeatedly. Each jolt became worse than the last and Megatron bellowed out a cry of pain that he couldn't hold back any longer. He collapsed onto his knees, his eyes ever watching the pathetic human as he descended from the safety of his perch.
Deagon in turn watched him with a snide glimmer in his eyes. Humans were far more cruel than they liked to believe. Deagon, a man who thought he was pursuing the future of his world, didn't realize how far back he was setting it. No, he wasn't working to make peace with Megatron, to have him as an ally, he was doing the exact opposite.
Megatron watched the man set the box back up against the wall with a confidence that he would one day crush between his digits. He left the room and Megatron slowly inched himself back onto the slab, his optics watching carefully for anyone else coming through. He watched and he waited and schemed for the day he would be released from his prison and would go after Deagon Burgiss.
Megatron didn't know when he nodded into stasis, only that he had when noise erupted around him. A familiar one that made anger rumble through his chest.
Diplomats.
They were all the same. Struck with fear at his presence, the most notable of them all allowed to hold the box - Deagon whispering into their ear that it was okay to use it to try it out: the monster couldn't do anything about it.
But one day he would.
He recognized the voices. These diplomats had come before. He remembered two of them running out screaming when he snarled at them for a backhanded comment. Did humanity truly think coming in here and taunting him it would magically make him one of their own?
The man and woman walked up the stairwell in front of Deagon, chatting to each other about where they were going to head to lunch after this. Deagon chimed in about some restaurant in the city that was the best in town. Human small talk. It was disgusting. Did they never want to know anything more about life than the simple pleasures their wealth afforded them?
The diplomats sat down at the two chairs that were at the table. The two that had run off terrified were not here today. He hid the satisfaction from his face - as not to give Deagon any reason to feel a need to show his power. Megatron felt a new kind of anger rise in his chest. Was he choosing to cower to this man? His glare from his thoughts reached the humans and he watched them shift backwards in fear. The woman leaned over and whispered something to the man, which he nodded to.
"Hello, Megatron," the man shuffled papers in his hand. "I will not introduce myself since we have met before, but we are here to visit with you."
"Silvan," the woman pressed a hand to the man's arm. "He is a prisoner of war and has seen many like us. It would be rude to not reintroduce ourselves." Her tone was sweet, as if acting like she were on his side would ease his situation. It would not.
The man let out a deeply annoyed sigh. "Of course, Anna. We are diplomats from the United Kingdom, coming on behalf of our loved land to learn more from you."
He snarled low at them, his optics narrowing in on them.
The man shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "As you know we are interested in the pivotal information you have to share with us about your great war on Silbertron."
"Cybertron." Deagon corrected.
Megatron snorted at the un-accidental mistake. It was a powerplay humans liked to use - ones he'd done himself. How heinous they were to think they were better than him in any way.
"Of course, my apologies, Megatron." the man pressed a hand to his chest as if his apology were truth. "Cybertron." he looked at Deagon. "You accomplished great feats in your war and though they have led to quite the destruction, we feel that you have valuable intel that we, as humans, can use to aid us in protecting our kind from any further alien attacks that may reign down upon us."
Megatron shifted where he sat. "You and your kind have come to ask the same thing of me for five years. And for five years I have refused to give you anything. What makes you think you are so different? What makes you think I care if another alien species comes to destroy your pathetic planet of flesh bags?"
"Well, for one," the man cleared his throat. "If we were invaded, you would be a prisoner still and have a very low chance of survival."
Megatron wanted to laugh at the obvious pull for 'survival'. "I would much welcome the sweet relief of death than aid you in your survival of another alien war."
"It is the least you owe us for bringing your war to our planet," the woman chimed in, her voice sickly sweet.
"I owe you nothing!" Megatron barked, his gaze directed solely to her. "And if I had, I have paid it through the death of my comrades! I am paying it," his shackles shook with a brutal force as he raised his arms upwards, the shock from them pulsing through his body. He gritted before continuing. "Through confinement! I am paying my dues." His attention turned toward the man as he raised the box, as if to show that he had the power. "And what do you plan to do with that, human?" he snarled.
The man visibly shook, his fingers twitching above the button.
"Are you afraid of what it will do to me? Scared that your touch will be the moment that I am enraged enough to break free of my chains and kill you?"
The man's face paled.
"Well," Megatron sat back. "This technology is not your own. It was built by my enemies, the autobots, and they are as keen about my escape as you are. There is no reason to be afraid." he chuckled at the expression of the man, the one that most humans had when they were failing to keep their recent meal down.
"We only wish to get into your mind."
"That is the job of my psychologists, is it not?" he mocked. "Do you think yourself more educated than them? Not even they can break through, and yet you believe you can?" his chuckle bellowed out into laughter. "How fallible of you humans, to believe your titles rise you higher than another." he leaned forward, a darkness encircling him. "You are no better than my own kind. I came from the ashes of a broken world and one day, you may find that I am no longer your biggest threat to your existence. And that threat will not come from among the stars, but from your own flesh and blood. That is all the wisdom you will glean from me today, humans. Leave."
Deagon straightened a little taller. "They leave when they are well and ready."
"No," the woman stood up, her eyes connected with his own for a moment. "No. He is right, we are leaving."
"Anna, there is information to be had from this. . . This beast!" The male diplomat shoved his chair aside, throwing his arms out toward Megatron. "We cannot leave when he wants us to, we cannot let him win."
The woman faced her companion and opened her mouth. Megatron watched as her eyes softened for a moment and she shut her mouth before saying anything. Instead she turned and began descending the stairwell.
"You can still press it if you want to." Deagon gave a flashy smile to the man.
The man in turn shoved it into Deagon's hands and sighed angrily. "Your government will be hearing of this. Five years and you have not at all made him willing to share a single thing. While there is information to be had in that gigantic metal head of his, he would soon be a better resource to our race as scrap metal." The man stormed down the stairwell, following suit with the woman.
Deagon turned toward Megatron. He readied himself for another shock. It never came. Turning his gaze to Deagon, he waited for the man's snide words that often preceded the shock.
"You are property of the American government," Deagon snapped. "You better start actin' like it."
"I am a prisoner of war. I am no one's property." Megatron growled back. "Go ahead," he nodded toward the box. "Shock me."
Deagon let a malicious smile spread across his lips. His fingers danced over the button and as he prepared to push, a voice stopped him.
"Warden!" Both their attention turned to Aurora Clark. "For the love of everything that is good in this forsaken world, you better not!"
Her voice was raised, yet held a professionalism to it that Megatron did not often hear from those he met.
Deagon traversed down the stairs, stopping just before her and placed the box in her face. "Would you like it today after your little scare yesterday?" He was up in her face, yet she didn't back down.
She shoved the box away from her and Megatron could see anger flaring in her eyes. "If I want the wretched box, I'll take it for myself. Please leave so I can begin our session."
"He had quite the agitating night last night, it may be beneficial for someone to stay inside for close observance."
The woman walked away from him, a clip in each step. "I would soon rather be asked to speak in front of a crowd of people." She stopped at the stairwell and turned back toward the Warden. "Now please leave. All of my clients' sessions are private and I will respect that even for him."
Deagon huffed and stormed from the room, the door locking behind him. With her own huff, Aurora Clark traversed the stairwell and sat down in one of the seats. Shuffling her file she opened it to where he could see a small picture of himself clipped to the inside. He remembered the photographer and the absolute fear in her eyes when she had to take the picture.
Aurora cleared her throat and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed in on him today, a newfound confidence seeming to be behind her gaze. "We begin today with a new question, Megatron. . ." Her voice softened with her gaze. "Tell me who you hate the most."