Chapter Text
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tear your spark out,” Prowl growled, a dark pleasure spreading through him as he watched Megatron slowly crawl away (to where he wasn't sure), dragging himself across the cold floor of the cell, leaving a trail of energon behind him.
Prowl stepped forward and kicked him hard in the side, denting his plating. The mech collapsed onto the ground and curled up in a ball, shaking.
“I asked you a question, con scum,” Prowl said, kneeling next to him.
“I don't...” Megatron gasped, his voice weak. Cycles of Prowl and the surviving Wreckers’ flawless torture regime had worn the once proud leader down to nothing. He’d been stubborn when he was first captured on the battlefield and brought to this abandoned factory in a bombed out section of Iacon. Stubborn and unrepentant.
Prowl had made it his goal to fix that. And he had plenty of time to do it. For all anyone else knew, the Decepticon warmonger along with the Autobots had been killed in a massive bombing just outside of the city.
Prowl and the others didn’t care about their duties anymore. Cycles of war had sucked every drop of hope from them and things were getting worse and worse. The other side had so much energon stored away, not to mention allies all over the colonies. It was only a matter of time before Prime surrendered. They weren’t winning this one.
Now, Prowl and the Wreckers lived in the abandoned building together, releasing their frustrations on the warlord. Beat the slag out of him for hours. Made him take three, sometimes four spikes at once until he passed out. They made the slagger suffer as horribly as possible. Megatron was never going to be brought to justice for his crimes in a real court, so it was only fair.
It also became a new home for them. A place to unwind, reminisce about the good days, and try to heal from all the pain they’d been through.
Prowl smirked. “I can give you a reason why I don’t kill you. It wouldn’t be as fun as watching you scream.”
Megatron whimpered, trembling harder. “Please...” he said hoarsely.
Prowl grabbed Megatron and rolled him onto his back so he could look down into those frightened red optics. The mech was littered with unhealed wounds, including a nasty hole in his side from when Prowl indelicately removed his T-Cog. Prowl made a note to take care of them before they got too infected and hindered their activities.
“You plead for mercy?” he hissed, yanking Megatron’s arm back so hard that he dislocated a joint. Megatron cried out in pain. “Did your lackey show Rubble mercy when they bashed his head in?”
Prowl could still hear Rubble’s voice over the com moments before he died. A death that could’ve been prevented. Angrily gritting his dentae at the memory, he slapped Megatron so hard that energon spurted from the silver mech’s nose, dripping down his battered face.
Prowl stood up and grabbed his electro whip again, bringing it down on the cowering mech over and over, opening new gashes as the miserable wreck screamed in agony. Megatron was so weak, so low on energon and morale, that he barely had the strength to raise his servos in front of his face. Prowl almost missed the days when the old slagger would fight back. It wasn’t as satisfying anymore.
Eventually, he grew bored and threw the whip aside. He knelt by his captive again, sliding a servo over his broad chest and down to his groin, rubbing his closed interface panel.
Washer fluid fell from Megatron’s optics as he looked at Prowl pleadingly, shaking his helm.
“Open,” Prowl said.
“No. Please...no more,” Megatron begged.
Prowl grabbed Megatron around the neck and squeezed, staring down unflinchingly as Megatron gasped for breath and faintly clutched at Prowl’s fingers.
Megatron finally snapped his panel open and Prowl let go.
“Good,” Prowl crooned, stroking Megatron’s cheek.
He dipped a servo between Megatron’s legs and cupped his valve, then traced the swollen lips and anterior node before dipping a finger into his warm depths. Megatron flinched and shut his optics, gasping out in pain.
“Still sore?” Prowl said amusedly, removing his fingers and playing with Megatron’s port instead. Prowl still felt a sense of pride at being the one to violently break Megatron’s seals cycles ago when he forced himself into the warlord’s valve.
And even now, he still didn’t bother preparing Megatron, instead releasing his spike and thrusting straight into the con’s tight aft hole. The room echoed with Megatron’s high pitched shrieks of pure anguish. He always did have the most irritating voice. Grating and scratchy. How or why anyone listened to his speeches baffled him.
Prowl slapped him hard. “Shut up, you worthless piece of scrap.” He grabbed Megatron’s arms and pinned them above his head. “You think you haven’t put us all through worse than this? The whole PLANET is suffering! Look what you did to us! You DESTROYED Cybertron! You took away our home!” He thrust harder and harder, ignoring the energon slicking the torn up, clenching channel and dripping around his spike.
Megatron was openly sobbing now. “I-I only did what was best f-for Cybertron.”
Prowl laughed, giving a particularly hard thrust, grinding as deep as he could. Megatron was so tight around him it was damn near painful.
“If you cared about this planet, you wouldn’t have affiliated with the Rise. You wouldn’t have murdered innocents and lied about it. You wouldn’t have started this FRAGGING WAR.” He pumped his spike into the ruined hole faster and faster the more he thought of everything Megatron had done. The lives lost. The mech beneath him deserved so much worse.
“Please...” Megatron wailed.
"Again Megatron, I show you as much mercy as you've shown others," Prowl said.
Prowl returned his attention to Megatron’s neglected valve and roughly fingered him as he took his port, jamming into the sensitive mesh. He pinched his anterior node hard, causing Megatron to buck his hips and squeeze tighter around his spike with his filthy port. He rubbed slow circles into the aching nub, watching Megatron struggle against the involuntary pleasure.
"How many spikes did you suck to get into your senate position?" Prowl taunted. "You weren't good for much outside of looking pretty for the camera.”
Megatron kept crying. It was starting to annoy Prowl, so he turned the mech over, shoving his face into the dirty ground and pounding into him from behind instead.
Unable to last with Megatron clenching so hard, Prowl overloaded with a grunt, emptying inside. He pulled out and sat on the ground, panting.
Megatron curled up again, choking on his sobs.
“You’re always a good frag,” Prowl said once he caught his breath. “Did you ever take Prime’s spike up your port? I know you two were much more than friends. Back in the days when you were a miner and didn’t cause trouble.”
There was a hitch in Megatron’s rapid intakes. “He-he would be ashamed of you.”
“Of course,” Prowl said. “But I guarantee nothing tears him apart more than seeing what a monster you’ve become. How many innocent bots you’ve slaughtered in your war. And for what? Your outdated philosophy about Cybertron’s place in the universe? Pathetic.”
Megatron didn’t say anything. Just closed his optics and shook.
“You were always pathetic,” Prowl continued. “A whiny sparkling who shouldn’t have been in a position of power. Entitled. Awful. I don’t know why Prime ever loved you. And how does it feel to know that your own faction replaced your sorry aft and continued the fight as if you never existed?”
When Prowl recovered, he moved Megatron onto his hands and knees and pushed into his injured, slightly lubricated valve. He gripped Megatron’s back treads and immediately started a punishing pace. Megatron hung his helm low, unresponsive and too tired to cry anymore.
Prowl left the broken mech alone after that. He needed to cool off before he accidentally offlined the slagmaker.
***
Later, Prowl returned with a tiny energon cube. Megatron gazed at him with terror in his optics about what Prowl was going to do next. His optics were glitching, a sign of being extremely low on fuel. He turned his gaze to the cube in Prowl’s hand then back to Prowl.
Prowl intentionally kept him underfed. So severely that Megatron didn’t even have the strength to stand on his pedes anymore.
Prowl smirked and tossed the cube onto the ground, spilling it all over. Megatron crawled over to the puddle and slurped up what little he could.
“How far you’ve fallen,” Prowl said, laughing. “You’re right back to where you should be. Low as dirt.”
“Just kill me,” Megatron said. “Please...just end it.”
“No,” Prowl said. “Death is the easy way out.”
***
Prowl didn't know how long they’d been holed up in his new base. It could've been cycles or kilocycles. Time was meaningless. Occasionally, Swindle would stop by to drop off a fresh supply of energon cubes from his illicit sub space pockets in exchange for some time with Megatron (they had enough fuel to last a long time) or some weapons Kup managed to find when he snuck out onto the battlefield to scavenge for supplies. Swindle would also bring news about the war and how poorly it was going for the Autobots. Many bots and aliens had decided to evacuate.
One day, Prowl was underneath Megatron, slowly sliding in and out of Megatron's slick valve while Springer took his aft port and Impactor stuffed his intake with his spike. Kup watched the show, waiting for his turn. Swindle was visiting again, filling them in on the war.
Prowl couldn't take his mind off the list of dead Autobots currently being listed off.
"The cons are even worse these days," Impactor said. "Shockwave is more ruthless than I could've imagined. I almost miss THIS fragger being in charge.”
Prowl frowned and thrust into Megatron hard, grinding against his ceiling node. Megatron let out a whine around Impactor's spike and mumbled something, reaching up a shaking servo. Impactor slapped it away and thrust into Megatron's intake one more time before releasing his load and pulling out.
“Shockwave is definitely a hardaft,” Swindle said. “He ordered an attack on the refugee ships fleeing the planet. Recently caused quite a stir because the Ascenticon founder was on one of them. Killed her and a bunch of the proto-Decepticons who wanted out of this mess. The sparkbreak of seeing your own student destroy everything you fought for…I can’t imagine.”
Megatron jerked above Prowl, startled. Prowl didn’t miss the pure pain that crossed his face that wasn’t caused by their attentions.
”Mmm, he‘s still such a tight little piece of shareware,” Springer said, giving Megatron’s aft a slap. “I want his valve again after this. Want to feel him overload on my spike.”
Prowl reached a servo between them and rubbed his fingers against Megatron’s anterior node. He flicked and pinched it, chuckling as Megatron squirmed. Megatron’s optics were glazed with pain as he looked at him, silently pleading.
“It’s still tragic how little anyone cares about old Megs here,” Impactor said. “None of the cons picked through the wreckage to find his body. Not even his dear Soundwave.”
“He already betrayed the only bot who loved him,” Prowl said. “Isn’t that right, Megatron?”
Megatron groaned in discomfort, transfluid dribbling down his chin. “I don't feel well," he said, so weak that he fell flat against Prowl for support and buried his face in Prowl’s shoulder.
"If you purge on me, you'll have the Pit to pay," Prowl growled. He'd already had to clean up Megatron's mess too many times lately. He wasn't sure what was wrong. It wasn't the energon, because he'd been drinking the same supply with no issues.
Kup studied Megatron. "You said that's been going on for several cycles?"
"Yes, came out of nowhere."
"Do you think he's sparked?"
Prowl stopped mid-thrust, going cold. "That's impossible."
"He was created during the Age of Expansion. Cybertronians reproduced naturally in addition to the forge, remember?” Impactor said. "The Nominus Edict said that carrier bots were supposed to be fixed, though."
"Oh great," Prowl said. He pulled out of Megatron and pushed him away, suddenly disgusted.
Prowl didn't believe Kup, but sure enough, when they scanned Megatron, it was confirmed that he was carrying. How he'd managed to conceive while being so undernourished was a miracle. Prowl debated whether or not to remove the sparkling, but settled on leaving it be. He'd make Megatron suffer.
***
As the cycles past, Megatron's state became more and more noticeable. He was heavy with the sparkling, his gravid middle making it difficult to move. Much to Prowl’s annoyance, Megatron wasn’t reacting negatively to the situation or begging him to terminate the sparkling.
It made sense. Megatron always had an unhealthy obsession with Cybertronians as a species continuing to grow. The Ascenticons had called for unlimited forgings, no more restrictions on births.
Prowl couldn't wait for this to be over. The extra energon he gave Megatron was depleting their stores. Not to mention the fragging wasn't as satisfying and Megatron's moods were all over the place.
He eventually locked Megatron in a dark storage closet in the basement and only visited him for energon dropoffs or to choke Megatron with his spike. Fragging a carrying mech was no longer appealing to him. The Wreckers loved it, though. Loved pounding into his tight valve and watching his enlarged abdomen bounce around.
“What are we going to do with the sparkling?” Kup asked. They were relaxing in the energon room, enjoying their rations. “It could be any of ours.”
Impactor made a disgusted noise. “Yours, maybe. I’m never up in his valve.”
“We’d better fix him if we want to keep this up,” Springer said. “Who knows how often he goes into his heat cycles. Especially if they aren’t noticeable.”
“He and the Ascenticons wanted new Cybertronians,” Prowl said. “Well...here’s his chance.”
***
Megatron gave birth to the sparkling all alone in the cramped closet. Prowl didn't even know until he went to bring him his ration and found him sitting in a pool of energon, craddling a tiny femme. She had Megatron's helm shape and her chassis was mostly green with a little bit of silver. When she opened her optics, they were a bright red. Not his. What luck.
Megatron hugged her to his chest, eyeing Prowl warily.
"What's her name?" Prowl asked, setting the cube on the floor.
Megatron hesitated, looking uneasy. "Termagax," he eventually said. When he looked down at his sparkling again, a small smile crossed his face and washer fluid rolled down his cheeks. "She's beautiful.” He stroked the femme’s helm.
Prowl folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve been hit in the helm so many times that you’re happy about having an Autobot’s sparkling? If only your followers could see you now.”
“She’s mine.” He winced as he shifted to a more comfortable position. Energon still trickled through his closed panel between his legs. It looked like it was taking every last bit of energy to speak. “I..I always wanted to have a sparkling. W-when the Edict was gone.”
“With Orion Pax,” Prowl said matter-of-factly.
Megatron avoided his gaze. “Yes.”
Prowl wrenched the sparkling out of Megatron's arms. Megatron's optics widened in terror. He was too weak to move and just stared at Prowl from the dirty ground.
“Please...don't hurt her," he sobbed. "She's innocent. You—you wouldn’t.”
"Your spawn? Innocent?" Prowl said, examining the little thing. She kicked her chubby legs around, whimpering.
"Hurt me!" Megatron cried. "Hurt me all you want. Just leave her alone. My actions don’t define her. Please no..”
Prowl couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They’d truly broken the mech beyond repair. “I'm impressed that you have the capacity to care for something other than your egomaniacal agenda,” Prowl said. "However, keeping her around would require energon that we can’t afford to waste."
"S-she can have mine," Megatron said.
"You intend to raise her here? In this place?" Prowl said. "Be real, Megatron.”
"She'll be away from the war," Megatron said, sobbing pathetically, his words barely intelligible. "She's my sparkling. I love her. Please don't hurt m-my sparkling."
Prowl had had enough of Megatron's whining. He took the sparkling and swung her against the wall, smashing her helm in. Over and over until she was limp and covered in energon, chunks of her little chassis strewn across the ground.
For the first time, Megatron's anguished, haunting cries gave Prowl a moment of pause. But, then he remembered their ruined planet and his anger returned.
He held up the broken sparkling as Megatron sobbed uncontrollably. “Do you remember Rubble? The CHILD you're responsible for murdering?" Prowl shouted. " How do you think Bumblebee felt when he found out his mentee had been violently killed? You can dish it out but you can't take it. You disgust me. You only care when things affect YOU. You only have a change of heart when YOU are the one being hurt.”
Prowl stormed out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. He threw the sparkling's corpse into a waste bin as he listened to Megatron's muffled screams.
***
He returned later with a medical kit to patch up Megatron’s post-birth injuries. He’d delayed the treatment, hoping Megatron had died from his hemorrhaging, but the defeated mech was still conscious. But only just. He didn’t use anything for the pain, but Megatron didn’t seem to care. He just laid on the ground, optics vacant.
Prowl left Megatron alone for cycles on end after that. He warned the Wreckers to not damage Megatron too much while he recovered.
One day, Prowl sat on his makeshift berth made of stacked crates in a storage room that had become his personal quarters. He was reading Rubble’s file again and looking over the terrible injuries the poor newly forged mech had suffered. A transcript of his last words. Prowl stared at his smiling profile picture, a deep sense of anger and guilt within him. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.
“Are you alright?”
Prowl looked up to find Impactor standing in the doorway.
Prowl shook his head. “Why couldn’t I have fixed this sooner? Uncovered his schemes before it got this far? He took everything from us.”
Impactor sat next to him with a sigh. “I know,” he said. “But take comfort in this: justice is finally being served.”