Warnings! This chapter contains - other than the usual unorthodox interrogation methods - graphic depictions of violence, non-con naughties, a brief rape scene, non-explicit but heavily implied rape, and death... So enjoy!

... ... ...

"I just know there's no escape
Now once it sets its eyes on you
But I won't run,
Have to stare it in the eye

Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I've got to face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside"

-Within Temptation, "Stand My Ground"

Megatron stepped out of the prison cell with searing optics and a wild rage that dug into the sway of his arms and the snarl on his lips. His EM field seemed to roar and whisper in tandem as it was pulled so very tightly to his person.

The guards flinched and did not move.

From behind him, the tattering of steps echoed and occupied the silence; Starscream approached, unaware of the warlord's current disposition, his wings arched and his fingers tapping together.

"My Lord Megatron," He began, voice coached as though relaying a practiced script, yet still betraying a lace of anger and frustration. "I understand that it is not my position to ask these things, but this is highly uncharacteristic, and if I might question the validity of your actions-"

Megatron's servos clenched to fists as a growl crescendoed to a beastly roar in interruption. He whipped around and struck the seeker with unadulterated force, sending the small frame flying. Starscream slammed against the wall with the hideous screech of metal.

"Silence!"

Trembling and looking up with ruby optics widened to orbs, Starscream watched Megatron approach him with a smooth and violent gait.

The warlord's helm tilted and his optics were wide and menacing, teeth bared and anger leaking through every edge of his being. "You try my patience, Starscream." He growled, "Unless you wish to end up like our prisoner, I would hold my tongue if I were you."

With that, he turned and left.

Bumblebee could feel the energon ooze onto his fingers and trickle down his servos. It was lukewarm and lifeless, sticking into small joints and holding his hands to clutch against Jazz.

He didn't move. The mess between the scout's legs was drying, clumping and clinging to his thighs - keeping him still, lest the liquid taint more of him.

With a small breath, he shut his optics and clutched the head even harder until a new bead of lukewarm energon escaped dented derma and dripped to the ground. And deeper and deeper, his mind reeled, turning and fading from reality in soft waves.

"You've never had high-grade before?"

Bumblebee rubbed the back of his neck and peeked up at the Autobot regarding him. Hot Rod, right his name was Hot Rod. The bright flames painted across his chassis were hint enough.

"Well, no." Bumblebee replied. He looked across the mess hall to his destination. Catching Cliffjumper's optics, the scout gave him a pleading stare, to which the red bot simply shrugged with a lopsided smile. With a huff, Bumblebee crossed his arms and turned back to Hot Rod. "I haven't exactly had the time."

Arms akimbo, Hot Rod flashed a grin, "Well you have the time now, don'tcha think?"

Bumblebee opened his mouth to respond, but before he could make a sound, the Autobot grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Dumbfounded, he tried to keep the fast pace as he was mostly dragged to a keg.

"C'mon, the high-grade's pretty good for being for cannon fodder like us." Hot Rod relinquished his grasp and started filling a cube. And Bumblebee watched as it splashed about, a deeper azure hue than the rations he was used to.

Withdrawing it, Hot Rod handed a full cube to Bumblebee and then turned back to fill another one.

Bumblebee cleared his intake and stared at the high-grade for a moment before looking back to the probably already drunk mech. "Are you seriously trying to get me drunk?"

The Autobot glanced at him for a nanoklick before switching off the keg and turning to face him completely, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Why not?"

"We're being deployed for combat tomorrow morning."

"So?" Hot Rod took a gulp of energon.

Bumblebee let out a breath, "So I don't feel like fighting with a hangover."

"C'mon bug, we're always on the battlefield." Hot Rod leaned down patted the top of his helm, "Besides, it's just an escort, chances are all we're gonna get is fisticuffs with low level 'cons."

Bumblebee raised a brow, half tempted to simply pour out the engex in his hands right then and there.

With a huff, Hot Rod simply tipped his head back and downed the rest of his cube's contents. He looked back down with a smirk and wiped off his mouth. "Lighten up a bit. You don't have to get wasted or anything. Just one cube and that's it. I mean, what if you die tomorrow, then you'll never get to try high-grade."

Despite himself, Bumblebee felt his mouth quirking, and he relented with a sigh. Ever so tentatively, he lifted the stuff to his lips and took a quick swig.

"There you go!"

It tasted awful. Just this thick and massive concentration that left a bitterness on his glossa. His face contorted as he forced himself to swallow. It went down slowly, with a warmth that only partially settled the nauseating taste. His mouth tipped, Bumblebee looked up at Hot Rod, "That was disgusting."

The Autobot let out a whoop and raised his glass, a grin splitting his face and baring white denta, "But it makes you feel sooo good."

With that, Hot Rod trotted away and clambered onto the nearest table, pedes knocking down someone's drink in the process. He received in equal amounts shouts and whistles from the table's occupants. They scooted back as he stood, drink in hand.

"Here's one everybody knows!" Hot Rod bellowed. The mess hall quieted slightly, a steady murmur still in place. A crowd of optics peered at him, waiting for… well, honestly, waiting for him to fall.

Bumblebee laughed when Hot Rod began humming an old tune, familiar as the rain of artillery. His lips moved before he started truly singing, letting out a drunken melody. His voice was completely out of tune, more of a melodic shout than singing.

There were some whoops and bellows, but most simply joined in. It was a dissonant chorus that drew laughter and small smiles from even the most morose of the soldiers.

"Wash your blades and rust away…"

Bumblebee joined in a little late. He sang and drank despite the foul taste, letting himself drown in simple camaraderie.

He finally left to his destination and took a seat by Cliffjumper.

The hall was alive with the song by then. No one really knew what the song was about or where it came from, but that didn't matter. It was the feeling of victory, of hope, amidst endless war that made this song so loved. Everyone knew at least a little bit.

Some stopped at the third verse, others at the fourth or fifth, forgetting the lyrics in a drunken state or never learning them to begin with.

By the seventh verse, only a handful of mechs still sang. Hot Rod lead with a loud and obnoxious voice, a wide smile on his face and his cube spilling here and there as he moved about dramatically.

"And the audience will sing of the one, the only…"

Bumblebee got up to get a second serving of high-grade, and he listened as the melody slowly died down to the lips of the last few mechs, until Hot Rod's voice came unaccompanied as he sang the last few words.

And then everything deafened with a ringing in his ears.

Bumblebee hadn't fallen asleep, not completely.

He merely resided in the nothingness. Time and thought, it did not matter. The world was too cruel for him to remain cognitive. Instead he regressed; he corroded and stared unblinking, registering nothing.

It was all a blur, all except for his anchor, his friend. He clutched to his lifeline and felt his fingers lock from strain and Jazz's faceplates bend against his grip.

When the lights flickered on, the scout curled further in on himself, his protoform tightening as his processor throbbing. It was blinding at first; he'd been in the dark for so long, it just all looked like a sheet of white in comparison.

And slowly, so very slowly, he woke up.

It took a while to adjust, but finally Bumblebee was able to blink and gaze around with only a minimal headache. He pushed against the ground and lifted himself up slightly. The movement made his fingers slip, his grasp weaken, and Jazz rolled from his servos and onto the floor.

Alarm tore through his fuel lines at first. But as he watched the head loll from side to side as it slowed, the fervor faded to a sickly pit in his abdomen.

Jazz was so much more detailed with the cell lights on; the slack mouth and the lifeless optics, they burned into him - but the cracked and broken derma, where Bumblebee could see the indents his servos had left, the energon that slid between cuts that hadn't been there before… if he'd had anything in his tanks, Bumblebee would've purged them.

As it was, his servos simply slid from his purchase on the ground and Bumblebee collapsed again. He pulled his forearm in and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He couldn't look at – at that, the desecration he'd caused in a small fit of madness.

There was something wrong with him. There had to be.

He hadn't even registered the cell door open.

Something – someone nudged his shoulder. He flinched but didn't look up, didn't move at all. For the life of him, he couldn't care. The worst had been done. There was nothing else he could do.

"Hey 'bot."

That voice… Bumblebee turned and looked up, finding himself face to face with Vortex. The Decepticon was hovering dangerously close, his masked face gleaming with the hints of a grin. It was… Bumblebee never knew he would actually be relieved to see this one.

"Gotta say thanks," Vortex sat down next to him, his EM field brushing against the scout's in laziness. "You won me a nice stash of quality high grade."

When Bumblebee didn't respond, the combaticon let out a heavy breath and pulled two energon cubes from his subspace. He leaned back and held one out to him.

There was a small voice in the back of the scout's mind that made him hesitate – he knew Vortex well enough, knew that unlike Megatron, he would poison Bumblebee's drink just to watch him writhe. But, he realized, he didn't care.

"C'mon, I know you're hungry."

Numbly, Bumblebee sat himself up. The mess between his legs clung to his thighs and was thick and sticky when they rubbed together. He cringed at the feel and kept his gaze down as he shifted with trembling limbs. Finally, he met Vortex's optics with a steady stare and took the cube from him.

"So," Vortex started when Bumblebee took a drink, waving a servo, "Like I was saying, high grade. A while ago me an' Swindle made this bet. We were drunk and guessing who got off on what, and me, being well," He took a swig of his own energon cube and made a wide gesture to himself, "Me, bet that Roadblock got a hard on for rape."

Bumblebee took a sip and glanced at the ground. He knew where this was going, and he didn't want to think about it.

"One way or another, the conversation got pretty heated, and Swindle finally bet his best high grade that he didn't." He chuckled and patted Bumblebee on the shoulder, "You should've seen their faces, 'bot," The smirk was easily entwined in his voice when he looked down at the scout, optics gleaming, "When we were watching the video feed of Megatron fragging your brains out. I wouldn't have been surprised if Roadblock just started self-servicing right there and then."

Were he not already hollow, Bumblebee would've been angry. Maybe he would've been humiliated and shamed as well at the prospect that people had been watching. But he wasn't. The rotting simply pushed a little deeper as he drowned in nothingness.

Vortex leaned in, like he was going to tell Bumblebee some secret. "Then again, you seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit. Maybe it wasn't rape, huh? I think a wholesome little Autobot like you just doesn't want to admit that you love getting spiked by the big bad Megatron. I bet you even like the idea that people were watching."

Something flared inside the Autobot, something that whispered against his fingertips and eased at his spark. But he didn't say anything. He didn't move. He simply stared at the ground and held the cube of energon.

"You won't deny it? I guess you really are a slut," Vortex reached out and trailed a digit along Bumblebee's jaw.

Bumblebee flinched and turned his helm away.

At that, Vortex grabbed his jaw and yanked, forcing him to look at him, "If I asked, would you suck my spike? Or do you only save that for Megatron?"

Bumblebee did nothing.

A moment of silence passed.

Finally, Vortex relinquished his grasp viciously with a frustrated growl. Violence strayed into his EM field as he moved to loom over Bumblebee.

He was nowhere near as intimidating as Megatron. And for that, Bumblebee was grateful of Vortex.

"Nothing? You fragging glitch, you think you're better than me, huh?" Vortex growled. "They said I couldn't leave a mark, but that doesn't mean I can't make you do a little something," He tossed his cube of energon to the side, and smacked Bumblebee's out of his hands.

Bumblebee watched as it skidded along the floor and spilt in a luminescent pool.

And then a servo grabbed the back of his helm, claws dug into his derma hard enough to dent and sent bolts of pain through his body. The servo pushed Bumblebee's head down – down towards Vortex's panel.

His optics widened as he was forced to watch it transform away and the combaticon's spike pressurize. Vortex pushed him further down, tried to get him to… Primus no.

Whatever had flared in the scout before erupted now, it pulsed through him and enveloped him. It was like a waking call. It fed his instincts and urged him to fight and keep on fighting, to get away. It gave him, even if for a moment, vitativeness.

Immediately, in a sheen of fury and denta bared in a snarl, Bumblebee fought against Vortex, fought against every inch and tried to pull away.

Vortex relished in this new vitality. He let out a laugh and pushed harder, "There you go, just like that," He said, "Now open your mouth." He brought his other servo up and pulled at Bumblebee's jaw painfully, forcing his oral cavity open.

And Primus, he was too weak, no matter how much he struggled, it was inevitable. With one final thrust from Vortex, his mouth involuntarily engulfed the Decepticon's spike. It was disgusting, absolutely disgusting, with a thick and musky flavor that stuck to the back of his throat and made him gag and…

And the rotting began to return.

"Ah, yeah, just like that." Vortex let out a groan, "I know you like the taste."

Still he fought.

And Vortex relished in all of it. The combaticon began bobbing Bumblebee's helm up and down, easily overpowering him.

He didn't know how long it lasted, but finally, something broke the moment. Bumblebee barely, so very vaguely, registered the whirr of the cell door opening.

And then that all too familiar beastly voice sounded. "Vortex."

The combaticon immediately stilled, the servos holding Bumblebee stiffened. And though Bumblebee couldn't see anything beyond pelvic armor, the threat was unmistakable.

When Megatron spoke again, it was menacing and smooth, speaking of more than mere violence, "Leave my sight before I decide you would be better suited as a corpse."

With a disgruntled noise, Vortex pushed Bumblebee away with enough force that the scout skidded slightly across the floor, the high pitched whine of metal on metal displacing the silence momentarily.

Deftly, Bumblebee pushed himself up to sit and watched the Decepticon leave.

It was almost comical, how quickly Vortex fled. But he did not think on it, his mind still attempting to process what had happened.

Instead, Bumblebee stared into eerie vermillion optics and felt the decay and nothingness stalk at the edges of his mind.

Megatron entered the cell. The door slid shut behind him, but in the light of the room, Bumblebee could see him more clearly than he ever had before. Megatron walked forward and knelt in front of the scout, and Bumblebee numbly took in the details of features he'd only seen the outline of.

So this was the monster that had tarnished him.

Nothing was betrayed in Megatron's optics, and his field flowed in cadence and flooded into Bumblebee's senses. It was different from before, the same presence and the same intensity that belied any emotion, but somehow smoother, softer - malignant and yet completely benign.

Megatron leaned in closer, and tendrils of fear pulsed alongside Bumblebee's spark.

A talon grazed along the side of his helm almost lovingly before Megatron placed a slow and chaste kiss on Bumblebee's lips.

And the rotting began to seep a little deeper once again.

Megatron pulled away and petted the side of Bumblebee's helm, raising his other servo to run along his jaw, digits lingering on his chin and tilting his helm up slightly to look at the warlord. There were no traces of a devil's grin, no traces of any sadistic pleasure Bumblebee had seen on his face for the past few… He didn't know how long it had been.

"Such a poor thing," Megatron purred. Hooking a digit under Bumblebee's chin, he pulled the scout forward and leaned in so that the scout could almost feel sharp denta on his audial. "You bring this upon yourself, scout," It was a near whisper, a rich and rasping voice. "I cannot grant you salvation if you do not impart the information."

And Bumblebee believed him. He believed every word. He was too tired differentiate truth from lies, to question anything, too tired to truly remember exactly why he was supposed to stay silent. To endure this…

But he had to. Primus, he had to endure this for… for his comrades, right?

No, that wasn't right, his comrades were going to die. He had to do this to save the Allspark… right?

"Say the word," He could feel hard lips pass every so slight over his audial, it sent a cold tingling throughout his frame. "And you will be free."

Megatron released Bumblebee and slid backwards. He stood with regal grace and turned and left the little cell without another glance or word.

When the door slid shut once again and the scout was left alone, he numbly looked to the side.

Jazz looked discarded, forgotten, his helm dented and dirty on the floor and his optics staring blankly at the ceiling.

His only lifeline…

It came in a slow realization - a soft wave - that Bumblebee finally understood; ever so softly, ever so slowly, he was slipping away from the nothing.

Bumblebee did not recognize the first two mechs that entered his cell. They stopped on either side of the doorway, a seeker and a grounder, staring straight at him with near blank expressions. But all that mattered was the Decepticon insignia's they sported. That was it.

He recognized the third immediately, though he did not know his designation. He shared the same frame, the same face, as someone Bumblebee had killed long ago – one of the only terminations he'd ever learnt to regret.

The third was almost as small as a sparkling, the others towering over him, with near completely purple armor and a pair of energon cuffs dangling from a tightly clenched fist. A frown construed a face that would've been child-like, impish and cherubic, were it not for the scars that faintly crossed derma and battle-hardened optics. He walked up to Bumblebee and glared down at him.

"On your feet, 'bot."

Bumblebee had never thought he'd see that face again. He opened his mouth, speaking silence before saying, "You-"

The little mech kicked him in the abdomen. Hard. "I said get up."

The anger that flowed through Bumblebee came as a surprise, one he did not welcome. He looked down at the floor and the fury ebbed.

He did not move.

The Decepticon let out a frustrated noise and turned to the two at the door. "Get this fragger standing."

They obeyed immediately, and Bumblebee did not fight when they grabbed under his arms and yanked him up painfully. The little Decepticon grabbed his wrists and clicked the cuffs to one. "You remember him, don't you?" He hissed and then he latched Bumblebee's other wrist. "Good."

With that, he turned and walked out the cell.

The two guards pushed Bumblebee forward, a servo on each arm.

He was marched out of that little room for the first time in orns. They led him down a hall, following the little mech through corridor after corridor.

And suddenly the world seemed larger. Suddenly, his entire universe was not simply a prison cell and a severed head.

Bumblebee watched the Decepticon that stayed a few paces ahead. Even his back seemed a paradoxical mixture of a battle hardened warrior and a child. He remembered the only time that he saw this one and his twin, he remembered that neither had seemed so scarred. They had been wide eyed and feisty, ferocious and unmerciful children.

Occasionally, they would pass other soldiers. Red optics would pause and stare at him as he was marched forward with a stagnant air. And it was almost as though he were being led to his execution.

But that was too kind a fate for it to be real.

After what felt like joors, they turned and stopped in front of an inconspicuous door. The little mech entered something on the entry pad, and it whirred open and they entered… And…

It was… Bumblebee blinked. It was a private washracks.

The seeker guard moved away from him and turned the shower nozzle on. Steaming liquid shot out in a continuous spray, white noise interrupting every sound. "C'mon, bug," He said.

The scout paused.

The Decepticon let out a scoff. And from the corner of his eye, Bumblebee saw the little mech roll his optics and cross his arms.

"Yeah, I know that look. It says 'what the hell is going on?'" He said. "What's going on 'bot," He grabbed Bumblebee's arm and nudged him towards the spray of cleanser, "Is that you're getting a shower 'cause Megatron said so." When the two guards took his place in moving Bumblebee towards the shower, he leaned against the wall with crossed arms with a solid glare.

Numbly, Bumblebee let himself be led to stand under the liquid. It was hot and surprisingly nice and rose off his derma in small plumes of steam.

It was completely surreal; like a dream that Bumblebee would awaken from at any minute.

He looked down at the ground and watched as the tainted cleanser disappeared into the drain. Somehow, even rinsing under cleanser, he didn't feel any less dirty.

His body automatically stiffened when they began scrubbing him, the two guards; all along his shoulders and arms. He watched the suds go down the drain and felt the bristles of brushes.

"I volunteered for this job," The small Decepticon suddenly spoke up again. "They were just going to send some nobody who'd never even seen you to do this, but I volunteered."

Bumblebee didn't look up.

"Do you know why I volunteered for such an insignificant and menial job?" He pushed himself from the wall and Bumblebee watched as his pedes came into view as he stood right in front of the scout. A small digit pushed at his chest, and he could feel the little one's metallic gaze.

Still, Bumblebee kept his optics on the ground.

"I volunteered so that I could look you in the eye before they decide to terminate you and tell you that you deserve all of this. You killed my brother out of cold-blood and for that you deserve everything done to you."

And Bumblebee believed it, he realized. He believed every word.

One of the guards paused, and Bumblebee vaguely registered him glance up. "Rumble," The grounder almost whispered it. He spoke in a thick and soft voice. "Hey, Rumble you can tell him anything you want but… I don't think there's anyone home."

There was a moment of silence, viscous and vibrant with unspoken words.

"Look at his optics," The guard said. "Empty."

Rumble sneered, a small growl bearing past ground denta. He pulled back forcefully and returned to his perch on the wall, arms crossed once again and still as a statue.

With that, the guard returned to scrubbing and the seeker grabbed Bumblebee's chin. He pulled his jaw up and stared straight into the scout's optics. After a moment, his mouth quirked.

"Hey, you're right." He poked Bumblebee's helm, "It's like he's alive, but dead on the inside. Like a drone or something."

And then he released Bumblebee, returning to his task. He ran the bristles along Bumblebee's chest a little too harshly, and the scout flinched when he scrubbed over one of the still fresh welds.

"So," The seeker started absentmindedly, "Word of mouth is that the big boss has been acting a little nutty lately."

"Oh, really?" The other guard said, "And how's that, Skycharge?"

"Other than his jizz between this guys' legs or ordering his prisoners be shiny and pretty?"

Bumblebee flinched.

The guard stiffened, "What?" He said.

"Yup, I heard it from Onslaught."

"Hey, shut up." Rumble hissed, "They're probably listening in."

At that, the grounder immediately resumed his silent work, lifting Bumblebee's arms and scrubbing his sides more intensely. Skycharge, on the other hand let out a scoff.

"And since when has that stopped you?"

"Since Megatron threatened my life."

"Heh," With one last scrub along Bumblebee's abdomen, he stood back and looked at the scout, hands on his hips. "Okay bug, sit down and spread your legs, I gotta get to the love liquid."

Bumblebee blinked and finally looked up. His spark pulsed indignantly and he didn't move.

"It's okay," Skycharge shifted his weight and put both servos on Bumblebee's shoulders, pushing down. "Unless you don't like suds down there that is."

Numbly, deftly, Bumblebee obeyed.

For the most part, the guards worked in silence after that. They scrubbed and cleaned every inch of him and when they were done, they marched him back and dumped him into his little cell.

"Remember Frenzy," Rumble said at the doorway, "When there's a gun pointed between your optics instead." With that final piece spoken, they left.

Alone in his cell, the handcuffs gone, Bumblebee looked around. The lights were off again and Jazz was gone.

This was all so surreal, like a dream. He could only hope that he would wake up soon.

Bumblebee had been sitting against the wall, curled in on himself, his arms resting on raised knees, when the telltale beeping surfaced him from his mind.

He peeked up as the door opened, a pool of light casting just out of his reach, and the familiar silhouette of Megatron peered down at him.

With one languid step and then another, the warlord entered the room. The door slid shut once again with a soft whirring, and wine red optics shrouded his faceplates with vermillion light.

Before he had felt fear, anger, defiance, or dread, in the presence of this mech. Now, though, Bumblebee realized he felt nothing of the sort. He did not know what he felt, what any of the torrent undercurrents of his mind were.

Megatron approached him, his EM field washing into Bumblebee's sensors in that same intensity, that same overwhelming presence, the same whisper of lust. And from it, Bumblebee was pulled out of sweet dissociation.

The smallest inklings of dread began to build up in him, weigh a little heavier and heavier until it was something tangible when the Decepticon lord stopped right in front of him.

"Scout," Megatron lilted, his voice a thick and resonant thunder, "Do you wish for me to take you again?"

Bumblebee shook his helm.

Kneeling, looming, a silver knee rested next to Bumblebee, and Megatron's frame all but enveloped him. A large servo rested on his forearm, and Megatron leaned forward. He wore the smallest of grins, a devilish expression searing into dimmed optics as he tilted his helm and spoke against the Bumblebee's mouth, "Then tell me what I wish to know."

Sharp denta nipped the scout's bottom lip. His arm was pulled back out of the way and he stiffened.

Was he really…?

Primus, he couldn't take it again.

Digits ran along Bumblebee's jaw and then tilted his helm up. He could feel his sparkbeat quicken, his fuel lines pulse, and the dread twine with his protoform.

"A few words," Megatron kissed down his jaw and put a servo on his chest. "And you will be free. Your comrades will be free." He pushed Bumblebee so very gently – pressed the scout to the wall and uncurled his legs.

Bumblebee's optics widened to two moons and his fingers flexed and curled to fists, his chest beginning to heave.

A glossa flicked over his audial and minute warmth spread through his protoform. He felt exposed, vulnerable to the ministrations, trapped.

Megatron moved down slightly, breath ghosting against Bumblebee's neck. A servo stroked his doorwing, passed over the tip and ran down the sensitive derma. It made him shudder and the worst of fears flash through him.

"No one will hold it against you."

Megatron ran a servo down Bumblebee's abdomen, down and down, until it rest on his interface panel. The heat radiated into him, the violent proof of life seared him.

"They never expected you to keep quiet, scout. You will be hailed as a hero for lasting this long."

And Bumblebee believed him. He believed it to the pits of his core and it was so damned tempting. The words, the information rested at the very tip of his glossa, burnt his throat and threatened to escape.

But he had to stay quiet, he had to endure this. He had to…

You will be free.

He had to…

Megatron started mouthing along his neck, moving downward. Denta scraped across clavicle armor and ignited buried sensors. A glossa sank into transformation seams and made him squirm, and that servo… Primus damnit that servo on his interface array started stroking up and down in the sweetest of motions. And the friction…

Say the word…

No.

"Do you wish for this, scout?" A small grin entwined Megatron's voice as he leaned up and nipped Bumblebee's trachea. Fingers turned to claws and he scratched down the scout's panel, peeling paint and hurting so damned good and bad. "Do you, truly?"

He had to endure this.

…You deserve all of this.

For everyone, for every single Autobot, he had to endure this. The information he held, it could've meant the deaths of more than his captured comrades, of so many more.

Bumblebee offlined his optics. He drew in a sharp intake when the tip of his wing was bitten. He felt the arousal course thickly, softly, through his fuel lines - heard that telltale click, felt a breeze coil around his valve as his panel was manually overridden, and he felt the fear and the terror pulse and stalk at the corners of his mind, he felt it overtake him and he let himself go.

No matter what, he would take it. He would endure all of this.

And then something flared.

It wasn't physical; it was… it was just like before. Bumblebee realized, belatedly, that it was Megatron's EM field. It seemed to both roar and whisper simultaneously in meanings he could not translate.

The lord growled deep in his chest and bit his neck. Hard.

Bumblebee hadn't been expecting it, and he wasn't able to bite back the sudden cry that escaped him. It had hurt in a pain he wasn't quite familiar with. His optics flashed on and before he could comprehend anything, a digit penetrated him.

A droplet of energon trickled down neck cabling as slowly, the pain liquidated into pleasure.

Megatron had not been gentle like before. And Bumblebee ached.

There was a mess between his legs again, and a small stream of energon trickled from his valve with the lubricants and the transfluid. He stared blankly at the collection of fluids that puddled on the ground between his legs and felt the emptiness eat away at him once again. He felt sickly and mutilated, tarnished and tainted to his very core.

But he hadn't talked, and that was what mattered.

He buried his face in his hands and allowed himself a moment, a single moment of mourning.

He allowed himself to remember why.

And it was so damned painful. This was reality, this was war, and it burnt his core and chilled his spirit. He wished he could be back in the mess halls, back in the field beside comrades and brothers. He wished he could laugh and drink high-grade with Cliffjumper and Hot Rod and Jazz and Blurr and sing that old Cybertronian tune in dissonant quality.

He wished none of this had ever happened.

And then that moment ended.

Bumblebee's spark sank as the cell door whirred open.

He lifted his helm and closed his panel and stared, ready to meet macabre vermillion optics… only to see two guards promptly enter. They were the same ones as before, Skycharge and the grounder.

They walked up to him, stopping on either side and pulling him up.

"On your feet, 'bot." The grounder said.

He let them guide him out of his cell. And vaguely, he noted that they had no energon cuffs this time.

It was all a blur, a somber march through corridor after corridor as others stepped aside for them, the atmosphere looming, thick and stagnant. It was all so surreal, a mesh of senses and colors.

And then time began once again when they stopped in front of a pair of large doors. The metal parted and a thin gust of wind swept by as they stepped outside.

It was…

Everything was…

Primus, the air smelt of ozone and a breeze coiled around Bumblebee's sensory net. It was the simplest thing, but truthfully, he had all but forgotten that there was a world outside. He'd forgotten of fresh air and the hue of the sky.

It was as though he'd been locked up for an eternity.

His optics drank everything in hungrily, the nothingness slowly ebbing from his being. A sunrise painted the view in blues and yellows, casted shadows over tall building and spilt color into clouds. Spires and towers stood proudly in beautiful architecture and a chain of mountains rose to the east in purple silhouettes.

And he felt, in the softest of waves, life ease into his fingertips and twine through his fuel lines. He felt himself so very slowly awaken.

There was a city in the distance, alive with light pollution and aircraft silhouetted against the sky. Helex, his processor identified it as – an Autobot controlled colony.

It was breathtakingly glorious.

But closer, his optics wandered over rubble and ash that set over the expanded plane he stood upon. Buildings stood all about in scarcity, still bright with life, though shattered and worn. He knew this place, he remembered the smoke and the battle. This was the remnants of Tyger Pax.

So the Decepticons had won this city.

Someone shifted their pedes.

And it was only then that Bumblebee noticed what lay immediately before him.

Megatron stood to the side; hands clasped behind his back, and regarded the scout. Standing a ways behind him, a faceless mech stood motionless, helm facing Bumblebee's direction.

The two guards released him and stepped back.

Bumblebee glanced back, watched as they pointed their guns at him. And then he looked back to Megatron. And he waited.

Megatron bowed his helm in a single nod and gestured to the field ahead with crooked fingers. "Tell me where the Autobots are taking the Allspark, and you may leave." He said simply.

Bumblebee did not move, and waited.

"Your freedom lies just out of grasp." Megatron said, "A singular word is all you need speak, scout, and then you will have reached your salvation. But if you choose not to," His arm fell loosely to his side and his optics narrowed in garnet whispers, sadistic and promising of things Bumblebee did not wish to think of, "You know the fate that awaits you."

He did. He knew exactly what would happen. And he knew he would never be granted death.

He didn't want to go back. He'd barely survived the torture, barely made it out sane. He couldn't go back to that cold and dark cell and stay for an eternity, he couldn't be torn away from the wind and the sky again. He couldn't keep being tainted and tarnished, he couldn't…

Salvation, it was so close.

Bumblebee looked back to the horizon. He watched the aircraft and the life that flourished there. He was so close… he was never further.

It was so damn tempting, deliriously so. A single word, it would be as easy as that, a single location and then he would be welcomed home. He would be back in the mess halls and singing that song all night long. A simple answer. That was it. The temptation thrummed just under his derma and made his spark sing in his audials.

But he wouldn't, he couldn't. So instead, with dead optics and weak foundation, he looked up at Megatron and resigned.

This was his fate. This would be his eternity.

His mind screamed and begged, the dread and the terror laced his throat, but he spoke firmly, numbly. "No."

The lord merely nodded. "Very well," He said.

And Bumblebee was bracing himself for his fate, preparing himself to be led back to that little cell… when instead, Megatron beckoned to another guard, "Bring them here." He said.

The Decepticon turned and motioned to someone Bumblebee could not see.

And then… Primus, it was them.

They were marched out in a line, legs and wrists cuffed, seared and wounded and painted with dried energon and dirty from helm to pede, Autobot prisoners. Bumblebee counted at least a dozen.

Some had hunched shoulders and terrified optics, others walked proud and defiantly, and others still, remained dead eyed.

Bumblebee felt his spark fall and twist. His comrades, his brothers; he knew them all by name, had drunken with them and fought alongside them for endless day and mourned with them over the fallen. He'd saved some of these mechs' lives, some had saved his life.

He was sending them to their deaths.

The Autobots were set in a line in front of Bumblebee, facing him. He watched as Cloudburst looked at him with pleading optics, coolant drying in twin streams over his faceplates. He watched as Quickswitch stared ahead blankly with a furrowed brow and a raised chin.

Someone shouted a command, but Bumblebee didn't translate the words. Instead, he watched wide eyed as the Decepticon guards forced them to their knees.

It was a moving sight - eerie and disturbing to see these mechs before him, laid out like objects. A guard stood behind the prisoner at the end of the line, Silverbolt, the barrel of a gun resting at the back of his helm. It was a suffocating and maddening sight that numbed Bumblebee's sensory net.

"This is your choice," Megatron said, "Your cooperation was their salvation. Your silence is their death sentence."

"Don't –" Skyfall's words disintegrated into a pained shout as a Decepticon shot him in the pede.

Why was this all on Bumblebee? He wished he were elsewhere, he wished the peril would end, he wished he'd never volunteered to be the decoy at Tyger Pax… he wished so many damned things and he prayed more than he ever had in his life but nothing happened, nothing changed.

Nothing would change. This was real.

"Begin."

Bumblebee could hear as the weapon primed in a vicious crescendo and -

The shot that rang through the air was more deafening than the loudest explosion. The noise tore through Bumblebee's spark and ate at his soul. He flinched and then froze, his optics widened and he was unable to look away from the gruesome sight.

Energon pooled down Silverbolt's face in thick gurgles, his expression contorted in shock and wicked realization as he let out a last breath. The scout watched as his friend fell lifeless to the ground.

And then the guard moved to the next one.

"Will you save them, scout?"

The gun primed.

Bumblebee's optics flicked over to Megatron. The lord stood astute and emotionless, completely cold as he gazed at the scout with enigmatic optics. And in a quick and undefined moment, he realized what it was to witness evil.

But oh, he wanted so desperately, so deliriously, to save these mechs. He would say anything - do anything, to keep them from dying before his optics.

Everything was pulled taut, waiting, as the words rested on Bumblebee's glossa and coaxed through his fuel lines. The information burnt his throat and cried and thrashed to escape. He couldn't take it.

He opened his mouth and spoke silence before the words arose and…

And then someone started humming.

The sound grounded him immediately. Bumblebee blinked and looked to the origin of the noise. It was one of the further prisoners, with proud optics and a rich voice. Hyperion. He stared into Bumblebee's optics and began, at first in the smallest murmurs, to sing in a dissonant and raspy tone.

It was that song.

It was the song that spoke of camaraderie and hope and victory that everyone knew…

The shot rang through the air, and Bumblebee flinched.

But Bumblebee closed his mouth and felt his throat thicken.

The rotting pushed deeper - deeper than it ever had before as he watched the terror construe pale blue optics, pleading to him, begging for help as the last tendrils of life left the body. And then Skyfall collapse to the ground. A pool of luminescent blue gathered around his helm and eased into cracks. A gaping hole in the back of his helm sparked and shined, revealing the inner workings of his processor.

Hyperion's voice grew louder.

"Say your goodbyes, and bend down to pray."

And then the mech next to him joined in, Hot Shot; and then another and another, Topspin and Sandstorm and another and another.

And then the next was executed, Huffer fell.

"Primus help us. Unicron run…"

Bumblebee flinched and felt his servos ball into fists.

Quickswitch began singing too, and then Cloudburst.

It was dissonant and sung with hoarse and shaking voices, it was a beautiful and otherworldly melody, cadaverous and haunting every vibration.

"The one, the only, the bane of the battle…"

The gun charged and rested against the back of Topspin's helm.

"The Valiant Spark."

The shot rang out.

Bumblebee fell to his knees. He felt himself reel, felt himself decay to the last thread of his being. He was killing these mechs.

But he didn't look away. He couldn't.

Slowly, as his sanity drew to a close and he stared into the optics of these dead men. And the melody rose to his throat. This was it. This was their final moments, their final time and their final gift. They would die together. And finally, Bumblebee let himself drown in simple camaraderie.

"Primus save us, Unicron run. The gladiators sneer, the battle's begun."

Bumblebee joined in late, but he sang with fervor. He sang as though it were his only lifeline. He sang as though it would save these mechs' lives.

Another shot rang out.

Bumblebee trembled bit back a sob.

Hot Shot fell.

The gun rested on the back Hyperion's neck, and the prisoner shifted slightly. As the weapon primed, he stared into Bumblebee's optics, his own so very crystal clear and so very morose. His eyes spoke of gratefulness and of acceptance, but more than anything, his eyes spoke of understanding.

This was their sacrifice, Bumblebee's and the mechs' before him.

Hyperion closed his optics, and bowed his helm in silent regard…

The shot rang through the air.

And slowly, one by one, in tandem with each piercing shot of the gun, the voices diminished. Quickswitch and Sandstorm and Topspin; their final goodbye's lost on lifeless lips as, in harmony with each energy blast, bodies hit the ground with a plume of dust and whet this dry plane with energon.

By the seventh verse, only a handful of voices still sung.

"…Worship the name of – the Valiant Spark."

…Until a singular voice remained - until Bumblebee's hoarse and shaking voice came out unadulterated, unbidden and raw. When the final body hit the ground, he rose on trembling and quaking legs and so very quietly, he finished the song.

"And atop the rubble, with a flag in hand and a sword at hip – will be the one they spoke of," He stood with a straight back and felt the liquid of coolant run from his optics, "The Valiant Spark."

He looked into Megatron's optics, empty and free. He felt his eyes shine with defiance and his limbs loosen with nothingness. He took in the unreadable expression, took in the wide crimson optics and the curled lips that revealed bared denta. He took it in and he understood, and he felt his final victory suffocate in the blackness as he resigned himself to the fate that awaited him.

It did not matter. He was free. He was dead. He was invincible. He was empty. He could not be harmed any more.

And then it happened so suddenly.

A silver servo clutched around Bumblebee's neck, and he could feel the derma dent under the force. It crushed and it ached and it suffocated.

"Let it be known, scout, that you chose silence."

Instinctively, his fingers scraped at Megatron's servo, panic edging at the remnants of his sanity.

"And thus silence will be your fate."

The energon pooled around large talons, and all Bumblebee could see were searing, violent and crimson optics.

A hideous tearing noise enveloped his audials. It hurt at first. And then it crescendoed to a blindingly intense pain that pulsed from his fingertips to his pedes and stopped his spark. But then, as quickly as it had risen, it faded. Numbness crept through his armor and flowed through his fuel lines until finally, it was painless.

It was near euphoric. His arms fell to their sides and his body went limp.

The world spun and the warmth of life liquid slid across his derma. And then… and then he was lifted off the ground. The bottoms of his pedes tingled as a breeze whispered against them, as he was held by the neck.

And slowly, his senses diminished. His frame seemed to vanish from his senses entirely and he was deafened.

His vision began closing in on itself until the last and final, the only thing he could see were two malevolent pools crimson glaring at him through the nothing.

And then… and then simply nothing - euphoric and blissful nothing.

…Oh.

He was dying.

The realization didn't come with surprise or fear, Bumblebee was too tired for such emotions. But he wasn't supposed to die, right? He would never be granted as kind a fate as death… right?

And his comrades… His comrades were dead. The thought left him confused and sad. He felt as though he was supposed to do something about it, and yet… he felt as though he'd accomplished every single thing he'd ever needed to do. He'd done his part, he'd succeeded, and now he would rest.

He found his salvation and he would stay in this bliss for an eternity.

After all, no evil would reach him in the afterlife.

A/N: There is probably one chapter left... maybe. Truly, I don't know. BUT IT IS NEARING THE END.

For everyone who's favorited and/or commented or simply read this, thank you so much! Honestly, I really did not believe I would get much positive feedback at all, and to my absolute joy and surprise, I was proven wrong. So, once again, I cannot begin to thank you enough!

...And, I hate to say this, but I've put this project on hiatus. I ABSOLUTELY WILL FINISH THIS STORY - however, right now life calls. There will be no updates for the foreseeable future.