SUBMIT TO ME
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Warning: Physical Torture

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"Ooh I'm brainwashed, captivated by the fame,"

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Smokescreen woke up to the cold atmosphere of the Nemesis, greeted with the dull grey and purple color schemes which made up the warship. Blinking his optics he grimaced as a burst of crackles raced across his processor, the remnants of Laserbeak and Soundwave's combined assault. The last thing the rookie had expected when he left the base in a sour mood was to be attacked. That in itself was concerning, as that meant they had somehow found his life signal . . . or were in the process of relocating the Autobot base.

    Blue screens were lit up on his right side, however there was no useful information to be found on them. Besides, it was not like he could access them, as the rookie quickly found out he was restrained to a surgical slab.

    "Wakey wakey," his optics fell on the notoriously vain Decepticon medic, Knock Out's white faceplates displaced into a smirk as he chirped. "Lord Megatron has been anticipating your interrogation."

    "Didn't know I was a special guest," Smokescreen quipped back, testing his restraints. To his dismay they refused to give, and his spark skipped a pulse when he realized the Phase Shifter was missing on his wrist.

    "Looking for this?" Knock Out held up his servo, the device glittering in the dull Nemesis light. He stuck it on his own wrist, activating it and placing his own servo through his arm, whistling in appreciation. "Intuitive. Nice."

    "Give that back, you thief!" Smokescreen struggled, Knock Out turning the shifter off as the doors opened behind him. The Decepticon must have privately commed his master.

    Megatron's sharp form stalked through the doorway, his arms at his sides and the Star Saber against his back. The Autobot was ready to thrust insults his way when the warlord angled his body, revealing Ratchet trailing behind him. It had not been that long ago when Smokescreen crossed paths with the medic, but even during that short amount of time there was a drastic change. Ratchet's purple optics had darkened in color and his armor had an abnormal sheen to it, as if it was brand new. He stuck close to the dictator like a shadow, surprise flickering in his optics when he noticed their prisoner.

    "Ratchet," Smokescreen said his name in the native human language, trying to nail down what exactly was wrong with him - besides the obvious.

    "Have you begun interrogation of the prisoner?" Megatron inquired his subordinate. To Knock Out's credit, he concealed his fear of the Decepticon leader well when he knew his spark was not on the line.

    The medic waved a casual servo. "No, he was just waking up when I commed you. And besides, I thought you would prefer if the pleasure was reserved for you."

    Smokescreen felt chills run down his frame, wondering just what exactly "interrogation" meant. One look at Ratchet brought some things to mind.

    Megatron was satisfied by Knock Out's answer, his optics returning to Smokescreen's prone form. They were still red, which told him Ratchet was not completely under his control at the moment. The rookie frowned; if that was the case, why was the Autobot not resisting? And perhaps more importantly, where were the two humans, Jack and June?

    "I will ask you only once, rookie. Where is the final key to the Omega Lock?"

    Oh scrap. Smokescreen barely recalled the question as panic seized his systems. Megatron knew. He was well aware as to what the keys did - and was desperate to get them all. The chaotic thoughts in his helm were only further disoriented as he thought of the question.

    "Uh, that's a good question. I have no idea," he said, truthful. "I mean, that's what the Iacon database is for, right?"

    Optics narrowed. "Then explain to me this."

    A dangerous claw pressed a few buttons, pulling up the final decrypted relic. A full-body diagram of Smokescreen filtered into view, the image otherwise revealing nothing.

    Smokescreen gazed at the picture, dumbfounded. It showed very clearly on his faceplates, Megatron deducing that it was not a calculated move on the Autobot's part. He had enough practice with Starscream to know when someone was lying.

    "Hmm, an intriguing puzzle indeed," Knock Out onlined his medic modifications, his scanner folding into view. "If I may, lord Megatron, I believe a scan is in order."

    His master gave the silent nod of approval, Smokescreen cringing as the beam transversed his body. The Decepticon finished and downloaded his findings to the computer, four pairs of optics gazing at the resulting interesting.

    "How interesting. It has been inside him this whole time," Knock Out observed the obvious.

    "What? How?! How wouldn't I have noticed?" Smokescreen looked at his own chest, blown away by the revelation.

    "I believe the more important question is: how do we get it out?" Megatron mused, looking towards his medic.

    The crimson Decepticon was always more than willing to demonstrate his surgical expertise, and even Ratchet had to admit that he was built the part. His precisely pointed digits and attention to detail were both traits best suited for such a profession.

    A surgeon, with a penchant for art and beauty and the fine servos to detail, is restrained to his work by the same thing society has told us all: your form is your function.

    Knock Out approached the restrained Autobot after given silent prompting from his leader, grinning as Smokescreen began to struggle.

    "This won't hurt a bit. I promise."

    Smokescreen's optics widened as the medic's servo transformed into a rotary saw, the deadly device whirring to life and spinning at frame-cutting speeds. The rookie struggled only briefly and then froze, afraid of any small movement making the experience only more painful.

    Just as the blade was going to chip his paint it stopped, Knock Out laughing cruelly as his servo returned to normal.

    "Got ya," he sneered, instead activating the phase shifter. "I have been intrigued to see this in action. Time to see just how intuitive it actually is."

    Without further prompting he shoved his servo straight through Smokescreen's chassis, his digits beginning to pluck every wire and system in search of the key. The Autobot howled in dismay, prompting Ratchet to flinch just the slightest.

    "Get your rusted servos outta my hood!" Smokescreen snarled, jerking as Knock Out pulled out his prize.

    "Ah, here it is," he deactivated the phase shifter, presenting the key to his master.

    "Excellent," Megatron took it from him, Optimus' smooth digits clasping over the rusty brown metal. "You are dismissed, Knock Out. I will handle the interrogation from here."

    The medic was displeased, nosy as ever, but the tyrant also did not demand he hand over the phase shifter so he decided to leave before the thought crossed Megatron's mind. Smokescreen earned one last vicious grin from the medic before he waltzed out of the room, leaving only Megatron, Smokescreen, and the quiet Ratchet.

    "Now, my pet," Megatron crooned, Smokescreen shuddering as he watched sharp claws caress the underside of Ratchet's chin. "You have a choice to make."

    "A choice?" Ratchet narrowed his optics, but did not reject the touch of his master. If anything, he appeared to revel in it, his muscle cables coiling and uncoiling as he went through cycles of tension and relaxation. Eventually, relaxation won, and his shoulders slumped.

    Defeat, Smokescreen watched, appalled and terrified. Ratchet is defeated.

    "The Autobots have clearly replaced you with this pathetic excuse of a rookie," Megatron gestured to Smokescreen, his optics flashing to bright purple. "If you allow him to live, he will continue to take your place amongst their ranks. But if he dies . . ."

    "What are you saying?!" Smokescreen shouted, stunned by the lies that glissaded off of Megatron's glossa. "I never replaced him; if anything, they probably want him back more than they do me!"

    Ratchet almost seemed to be ignoring Smokescreen, however he was not completely convinced of Megatron's supposed point. Though his processor was muddled and disabled by the will of his captor, he could still think for himself.

    "You want me to offline him," he saw straight to the point, however Megatron merely appeared pleased that the medic came to this conclusion. He had wanted him to.

    "Doing so will secure your spot in the Autobot cause once again, as their medic," he tilted his helm. "That is, of course, if they accept you. But just as they no longer trust their human companions, they may no longer trust you. You would be isolated, if only because you are now a security risk."

    The former Autobot medic faltered - Megatron was telling the truth. Jack himself had been captured twice, the second time on purpose, and his mother was here now as well. Most likely Miko and Rafael were also kept in the dark about the Autobot's movements, if only to protect their friends. And Ratchet . . . he was infected with Dark Energon, and had already given up the former Autobot base because he was weak. Because he had to protect Jack.

    He was a disgrace to the Autobot cause, and Smokescreen's presence increased his bitterness. The rookie had arrived on the scene not long after Ratchet's disappearance; such a quick arrival was almost too perfect to be coincidental. However, Ratchet was the oldest of the group, and it made sense that he would be replaced by a younger, fresher face. Especially one who could readily jump into combat. He could visualize Smokescreen in replace of him, and worse the relief on the Autobot's face as they incurred a new soldier to their cause.

    Was that why they made little effort to reach out and attempt to bargain Ratchet's life? Because they had Smokescreen, and he was no longer a priority to them? Optimus . . .

    Optimus. He even confessed that they had not at least tried. Was that too much to ask? To even try?

When Megatron tortured him, he had begged for the Prime to save him, screamed his name in hopes that he would hear him. And yet, when shown Ratchet's pain, Optimus had turned his back on him. When given the choice, Optimus did not choose him. Yet he chose Arcee, and that stung the worst. Ratchet had been replaced by Smokescreen, and now that he was tainted, broken, a medic in need of repair, Optimus abandoned him.

    "They would never accept me," he said, almost too quiet for Smokescreen or Megatron to hear.

    "What do you mean? Are you crazy?? Of course they would want you back, Ratchet!" Smokescreen fought his restraints, desperate to jolt the medic out of Megatron's influence. "You're Optimus' oldest friend. Why wouldn't he be happy that you returned?"

    Megatron merely chuckled, as if Smokescreen said a joke. "What exquisite lies." His purple optics intensified, the dark substance amplifying and bringing Ratchet's insecurities to the forefront. "But of course. A follower of Optimus Prime will always lie to you."

    "And you won't?" Ratchet asked, not caring that they have had this conversation at least once before.

    "When have I ever lied to you, my pet?" Claws touched his cheek, stilling the flickering thoughts in his mind and dissolving the painful uncertainties. Megatron slid his touch down the medic's shoulder, to his arm. "The choice is yours. The Autobots have made their stance clear: you are not wanted. Yet destroy this Autobot, prove your loyalty to me, and I will give you everything Optimus Prime would not."

    Optimus does not want you. He discarded you the moment you were replaceable. Megatron will never.

    Ratchet shuttered his optics, his spark settling as his will solidified into place. He knew what he had to do.

    Megatron dropped his servo and shifted out of Ratchet's way, gesturing for him to approach the rookie and do as he pleased to him. Smokescreen's blue optics dilated with fear, brightening a little more with each step Ratchet took. The medic's optics pulsed with the beat of his spark, and he stood in front of Smokescreen. Their optics met, desperation clashing with solid acceptance.

    "Ratchet," the rookie begged. "You know Megatron is nothing but a liar. He hates Optimus, and he hates the Autobot case; he will do anything to turn us against each other! But we have to stick together, it's the only way we can defeat him! Please, Ratchet. I was never meant to replace you."

    The medic listened, a small part of him wanting to believe the Autobot. Surely Optimus . . . no, Optimus did lie. He never told Ratchet what truly happened in the Council chambers, he only gave the medic and the other Autobots the story they wanted to hear. He never once mentioned how Megatron actually vied for peace, but was denied. This war began because the Council refused to change, and they found their perfect puppet to keep everyone in line. Orion Pax got the Matrix of Leadership, just as the corrupt government designed.

    And yet after all of this time, the Autobot leader surely did not commit nearly as many atrocities as Megatron. He was not ruthless, or sparkless; he fought many battles and tried to save as many of his soldiers as he could. Optimus Prime put Cybertronian lives first, even if it meant losing the battle for the day.

    Even so, Optimus did not even try to bargain for the life of his friend. Bitterly, Ratchet supposed that he was the exception. After everything he had done for them, when he needed them most the Autobots cast him aside and replaced him with a fresh, new frame.

    He remembered the desert, how Optimus left with Smokescreen and the relic and gave no second looks back. Megatron had urged the medic to attack the rookie because he was to replace him, and that had hit far too close to home. The medic's psyche had slipped, and allowed the Decepticon warlord to take over. Because he was right. Because Ratchet still held onto sentiments that should have long since been forgotten by the one he had considered a friend.

    "No-" Smokescreen jerked in his restraints as a sense of finality settled across Ratchet's frame, the medic's servo transforming into his surgical blades. The motion was swift and unforgiving, the medic lunging forward and driving it deep into the rookie's chassis.

    Smokescreen screamed, his voice box glitching as he almost short-circuited it from crying out so loud. The noise only increased in pitch as Ratchet twisted his blade, bright blue energon spattering across both of their frames and flowing down to the floor in torrents.

    Hate burned through his cables and Ratchet pulled his blade out, rage pulsing in his optics as he plunged it into Smokescreen again, ripping cables with malicious abandon. Megatron merely watched, silently goading his servant to satiate his insecurities and destroy the Autobot. Smokescreen would pay for his sins against the Decepticon.

Ratchet could not even hear the screams after some time, enthralled in cutting and gutting. He hated Smokescreen, desiring to rip into every cable he could, soaking his own armor in the rookie's energon. Finally, at the peak of his rage, he drove his blade in one last time, right into the Autobot's spark. The rookie stopped screaming, a shudder trembling through his armor as he looked at Ratchet, betrayed. Without a further sound his helm fell back and his servos unclenched, the light dying in his chest.

    Ratchet pulled his blade out of the rookie and let it return to his servo, looking down at his covered servos. Blue energon, Autobot energon, coated him up past his wrist, splatter across his chest plates and dripping from his digits.

    Autobot energon. He never killed another Autobot like this before.

    "W-what . . ." He keened softly, realizing what he had done as Megatron loosened his hold on his servant. His spark faltered, the shock of the action leaving him shaking uncontrollably as he fell to his knees. Clutching his own servo he squeezed his optics shut, shuddering while clenching his fist.

    A dark, shadowed comfort ghosted over him, gentle digits settling over his left shoulder pad as claws touched his energon-stained servo. Air brushed across his audio receptor as the dangerous talons caressed his sensitive digits.

    "Do not despair, my pet. You did as you needed."

    Ratchet opened his optics, feeling his tanks churn. "I'm of no use to anyone."

    "Untrue," Megatron cupped his chin, purple optics meeting each other in an intense gaze. "You have worth to me. Invaluable intellect, undiscovered talents . . . I can see it within you. Optimus Prime never did."

    To his master's pleasure the medic slumped forward, pressing himself further into sharp digits. He found pseudo-comfort in the touch, desiring the attention and appreciation he deserved. More than anything, Ratchet just wanted normalization again.

    "Don't make me hurt anyone else," he mumbled pathetically. "I won't . . . I can't."

    "Your sentiments are not your fault. And you are far from a warrior, dear medic," fine edges caressed his face, dipping between the subtle gaps in his armor and protoform to slowly take away his emotional pain with physical comfort. "All I ask is your loyalty to me."

    Ratchet looked back up to his face, wondering how he could have ever found himself in this situation, and not caring in the slightest. Megatron had yet to blatantly lie to him, if he was ever lying at all. He had shown Ratchet the truth where Optimus attempted to hide it. He was not afraid to bare himself to the medic, and all he asked for in return was something the Prime did not deserve.

    "Yes, my master," he whispered softly.

    "Again."

    "Yes," this time, he drew up the strength in his voice, no longer gritting his denta, and no longer resisting. "Lord Megatron."

    Satisfied, Megatron drew himself up to his full height, imploring his servant to do the same. Ratchet spared one last glance at the mutilated Smokescreen, his spark stuttering but quickly stilling as the strong assurance of his dark king settled his thoughts. They left the Autobot to be cleaned up by Knock Out or some Vehicons, Ratchet walking next to the Decepticon leader.

    "What happens now?" He asked, gazing at the floor in front of them.

    Megatron looked to his servant, pleased with the slowly growing renewal of energy within him. "We will locate the new Autobot base, invade it, and take the final two Omega Keys," Megatron stated as they entered the bridge, a slim figure standing before them.

    "Been there, done that," Starscream sneered.