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Fortress Maximus jolts online again, his third full processor reboot in the past two hours.
For a few blissful seconds, confusion overrides pain and panic. Max knows things are really, really fragged up but can't remember why. Then his vision is a wall of frightening error messages and the feedback from his pain receptors is so profound that it threatens to offline him again.
And it's loud. Garrus-9 has never been so loud. Sounds of scraping and screeching, boisterous laughter somewhere and pounding pedes. The din of a prison gone mad.
Dread shoots through him as his processor falls in line. He starts crawling forward again, ignoring the warning informing him that half his right arm is missing. As if he couldn't tell from the searing pain and oozing energon trail. His self-repair is a joke at this point, unable to decide which part of his broken and mangled body it should attempt to fix first. He can't stand up, can't feel his left leg although he's pretty sure it's still there.
None of that matters now. He crawls onwards, driven to arrive at his destination. A cell simply marked 8521 in the bowels of the Last Resort, one of the more secure areas of the prison. His last hope to fight back.
It's become Max's mantra. Stop Overlord. Protect Aequitas.
It was his final coherent thought as Overlord threw him to a mass of revenge hungry Decepticon prisoners, and it was his first thought when he came back online again. Covered in transfluid and interface lubrication. Able to crawl away, a mass of crushed parts and terror as the seething mob momentarily abandoned their broken toy to tear through the prison, singing and shouting Overlord's praises.
They must have severed his treads. Or, Primus help him, damaged his T-cog because his numerous attempts to transform are met with nothing but grinding agony. His valve hurts, interface panel completely torn off. He tries to curl the humiliation into something he can crush with thoughts of revenge. Maybe if he makes it to the cell, if he can get them all out of this, maybe then he'll have the luxury of dwelling on his degradation.
With the list of warnings flashing across his display, he's not counting on it.
Max realizes why one side of his vision is nothing but error messages. His right optic is out. Yet he still has the left one, and it's telling him that he's almost at cell 8521. Almost there.
There are dead bodies everywhere, even in this part of the prison. Autobot and Decepticon. The battle for the Last Resort rages on, and he can hear gunfire and screaming not far from his location.
As he drags himself around a corner, he sees one of his guards lying in a pool of energon. The mech is missing his head, but Max can tell it's Turbofire. He buries this under the anger too. Payback is coming. Or he'll die trying.
His auditory proximity sensors are shot, one too many blows to the head. So it comes as a shock when he realizes that the footsteps he thought were off in the distance are about to enter the hall behind him. With his one good arm, he hurries to pull the remains of Turbofire on top of him as he lies on his back to hide his tank treads. Max is a big bot, and Turbofire doesn't cover him completely but the corpse hides his face as the Decepticons go running past, uninterested in dead Autobot bodies littering the hall.
Disgusted, he pushes the body off himself. He's low on fuel and new warnings are starting to crop up. His vocalizer protocols are unstable; shutdown override commands are starting to climb up his status queue. Yet he's only concerned with the lurch deep down in his spark as he looks up and sees the number on the cell he's hiding next to. His sluggish processor takes far to long to convert the symbols into something that makes sense but then he gets it. He's in front of holding container 8521.
Shockwave's cell.
A strangled sob of near joy escapes his failing vocalizer as he somehow manages to pull himself up the wall and punches in the code with shaking fingers. Stumbling into the room, the door shuts behind him and he leans on it as he keys in the locking sequence. As far as he knows, he's still the only one with the codes to these cells. For now. The holding areas of the Last Resort are nowhere near as secure as Aequitas, and Overlord will get into all of them eventually. He doesn't know how much time he has to rest and talk to-
Oh frag. Fragging slag-licking Pits.
That's right. How could he have forgotten? Shockwave's head is on one side of the room, his body is on another. Partially disassembled for security reasons. Max had authorized and overseen the procedure himself.
No matter, he thinks as he stumbles across the room, dragging one half crushed leg behind him. He has everything he needs right in here. He can reattach Shockwave's head.
He can stop Overlord.
The going is slow, as he leans on the control panel to instruct the various tools and hydraulics to reunite Shockwave's head to his body. Max nearly panics when his one good optic fritzes out, but it onlines again when he redirects power from nonessential systems. Who needs secondary ventilation, alt mod cooling, or foreign body monitoring at this stage? Optics, voice, and movement are primary. He disables half of his warning systems too, because screw the distraction. He knows the state he's in.
When Shockwave's head is finally back on his body, Max initiates the procedure to bring him back online. The Warden programs a hard boot, fast and rough without giving Shockwave's systems time to warm up and adjust. Hopefully that will confuse the slagger a little.
He also leaves the restraints in place, and programs one of the machines to open the front panels of Shockwave's armor to expose his protoform. The glow from the purple mech's spark is visible behind all that delicate circuitry and there, now Shockwave is as vulnerable and exposed as Max is.
"Fortress Maximus," says Shockwave, and if the shock of returning to consciousness so abruptly causes him any discomfort, he doesn't show it. "I gather from your appearance that things aren't going well."
Max attempts to say something, only to have his vocalizer spit out garbled static. He reroutes systems and reboots it. When nothing comes out, he tries again.
"What do you want?" asks Shockwave. His voice is calm as a single optic travels down his body, noting the restraints and exposure.
"O-Overlord," says Max on his fourth try to make a real sound. "How do I defeat Overlord?"
Shockwave's head cocks to one side; a slight movement but even Max's damaged sensors can perceive it. Almost like he's surprised. "Overlord is here? At Garrus-9?"
"Yes."
"An illogical place for Megatron to have assigned him. Unless I am misinformed about the nature of this facility. I have been in various forms of stasis for quite a while."
Max wasn't about to bring up Aequitas. "Megatron must have a plan, because Overlord is here."
"The fact that he's here is not entirely surprising. Overlord wouldn't be the first Phase Sixer to bait Megatron."
This must be what experiencing a complete processor glitch and going mad feels like. Max's entire frame shudders. He's been raped and brutalized, his men slaughtered, just so Overlord can bait Megatron? "Tell me how to stop him."
"If Overlord is here then I'm afraid your chance of survival is less than fifteen percent. No matter what you do at this point, you will be irrevocably changed and damaged by the experience of dealing with him. The most logical course of action is-"
"Frag logic!" Max lumbers over to Shockwave. His dead left leg has started to tingle. Tiny shocks of something being registered as sensation. Is that good? "There's gotta be something. No way would Megatron employ a weapon like Overlord without some sort of off switch. There must be a weakness. Tell me….." He glares at his captive, unable to get a read on him. Mechs without faces were always the most unsettling prisoners.
"And why should I do that?"
"Because," Max says, slapping one giant hand on Shockwave's chest. There's a slight twitch underneath it. Good. "If you don't, I'll tear you open right here. Crush your spark with my bare hand. Think of it as my last good deed for the Autobots."
"I see. And if I do?"
Max's tanks roil as he thinks about the last time he violated his principles so fully. Simanzi.
At this point, he's not above torturing the other mech for information, something he swore would never happen on Garrus-9 under his watch. Yet his plan was never to propose to Shockwave with mere threats. To have a slim chance of getting what he wants, he needs to appeal to Shockwave's famous analytical nature. To offer a deal too good, too rational, to resist.
"If you do, I'll set you free and give you the access codes to my private shuttle, hidden at the edge of G-9. It's still pandemonium out there. If you move quickly, I'll bet you can get to it before your Deceptiscum friends find it."
It's the best he can do, and it's the truth. For all he knows, that shuttle is the last ticket off this damned rock. Giving it to Shockwave is tantamount to cutting off his final escape route. It's a risk he's willing to take. Let the Wreckers or Prime or someone else take care of Shockwave in the future in exchange for the possibility of stopping Overlord now. The Decepticons can't know about the Culpability Drive.
The Autobots can't know the results of those trials.
And Maximus doesn't know if he can stand up to being the sole recipient of Overlord's attentions. He has to hope that Shockwave's goals don't align with Overlord's, so much so that Megatron's Third in Command will jump at a chance to leave.
"Hurry, Shockwave," Max says, sliding his hand up and down Shockwave's chest. "What's it gonna be? Deal with me and gain your freedom, or support Overlord to the sound of my servos crushing your spark?" He trails little circles with his fingers down his captive's frame, vocalizer dropping low. "And you'd better convince me you're telling the truth or my hand could slip. I'm a desperate mech, Shockwave. And I'm getting a little….twitchy."
Shockwave wastes no time in answering. He doesn't cock his head or shut his optic or give any indication that he needs to think it over. Instead he leans forward and whispers into Max's receivers.
Forty minutes later…..
"Tsk, tsk, Warden, recharging on the job? A shame to see you have such a lack of ambition. No wonder your prison fell so easily."
Fortress Maximus onlines again to feel Overlord dragging him through the halls of Garrus-9.
One massive hand is clamped around his leg while his head bangs on every bump and dead body they pass. A small humming sound escapes Overlord's vocalizer, an almost jaunty hop to his steps.
Cold terror runs through Max's fuel lines. He's already learned that the happier Overlord sounds, the more it's gonna hurt.
He pours through his short-term memory files. There's a brief flash of Shockwave walking out the door, and then a decision on his part to do something. Whatever that was, it's gone now. He must have offlined somewhere in the hall. For all he knows, he passed out right at Overlord's pedes.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
The error blasts across his vision again and again, countless times as he tries to access it. A sick mockery of his resistance against Overlord. Shockwave told him something, something crucial and important. And he can't get to it. The fragile short-term memory file is buried under jumbles of warnings and the toll of processing so much pain.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
"Let's play a game, Max." Overlord drags him up a flight of stairs, jarring his head on the steps. "I'll ask you a question, and you tell me the answer. The first person to scream...loses."
They're in a room now, one that Max can almost recognize. The walls look like someone painted them in energon, pieces of bodies everywhere. It's dark, with one single light shining from the ceiling onto the torture implements surrounding a desk.
His desk, Max realizes when Overlord hauls him up and slams him onto it. This is his desk, and this is his office. Overlord has turned his office into a torture chamber.
Rising panic triggers his cooling fans as Max's body tries to dispel the heat he's creating. He wants to tell Overlord to go frag himself, that while he may scream, he'll never talk. But his vocalizer is still struggling to work properly and his defiance comes out as "zzagh...yerself..."
Overlord laughs. "Feisty! Excellent. Honestly, Fortress Maximus, I was a little disappointed in our first encounter. I had expected more from a....legend such as yourself. But now..." He runs a finger down the side of Max's broken face. "Now we have time to truly test your limits. Won't that be fun?"
Max's fuel pump churns wildly. He can't stop it, can't hide the effect that Overlord is having on him. The stump of his arm is screaming, although the energon that was spurting from it seems to have stopped. Whether by means of self-repair or staunched by Overlord to make him stay conscious longer, he doesn't know.
His eyes dart from one torture tool to another, wondering which horror the huge mech will choose first. He's going to die. He's going to die and if he's lucky it will happen fast and he'll stay strong. Strong enough to protect all the secrets of Garrus-9.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
Max frantically tears through memory files like Megatron stomping through the arena. It has to be there. It has to be.
Overlord smiles at him and dips a hand into the seam of Max's chest plate, tweaking something. The pressure is gentle and precise, but Max's world explodes in torment. Pain radiates from his chest out through his arms. How can one little touch hurt like that?
"Now," says Overlord as he reaches for a shock stick, driving it through the juncture between Max's chest and shoulder plating. It's set to maximum, if one is to gauge the setting by the level of shooting agony it's producing. "Let's talk about Aequitas."
And there it is. Overlord knows. He knows about the existence of Aequitas. Max's slim hopes dash a little further. "I don't...I don't...."
"Oh, but of course you do." Overlord makes a show of picking up various tools, examining them, and setting them back down. "You're the only one with the codes to get into the Aequitas chamber."
Overlord doesn't wait for a response and doesn't ask a question. Instead he grasps what looks like a chassis saw, one of the small ones with a spinning wheel on the end used for precision medical work. He holds it over the right side of Max's face. "That optic doesn't look good, Max."
The chassis saw starts moving and Max can't help but struggle. Yet even if he were at full strength he'd be no match for Overlord, who pins him to the table with one hand. "Easy, Warden. You wouldn't want me to slip now, would you?"
The high-pitched screech of metal on metal pierces obscenely through the silent room. It seems to take forever, and Overlord works like a master surgeon, excising the optic with a deft touch. When he's finished, he drops it unceremoniously on the floor.
It hurts. Oh Primus, it hurts. A searing pain that's both localized and all encompassing. Energon wells in the socket, and Max starts rerouting power and executing deep sub-level commands in an attempt to control the physical response. To convince his body that the optic never really existed, so you can shut down the autonomous pain sensors now, thank you.
It doesn't work, of course. The frantic efforts to gain some measure of control. He tries anyway, and during his desperate machinations something pops into his mind.
Overlord wouldn't be the first Phase Sixer to bait Megatron.
Max jolts. Shockwave's voice. A short-term memory. He struggles to retrieve more.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
Overlord looks down on him, red eyes giving away little more than a barely amused curiosity.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
More time. Max needs to buy himself more time to sort through the mess in his head. He needs to give Overlord a distraction. A wrong code, perhaps? Send Overlord chasing a dead end into Aequitas and to the Pit with the consequences. He's gonna die anyway.
"W-Wait," Max stammers. "Wait, I'll talk." Energon is dripping from his optic socket into his mouth. "I'll t-tell you how to get into Aequitas. Just....just wait."
Overlord raises his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, delight evident. "Oh, Maximus. So soon? No, no, no. Not yet." He leans his face to Max's receivers, his vocalizer a sensual whisper. "Let's not get to the main event quite yet. Not when I haven't even begun to break you."
And then Overlord is moving fast, swift hands ripping one of Max's tank treads right off the track. The violence a sharp and brutal contrast to the delicate torture up to now.
Max screams, half in pain, half in fear at the realization that Overlord doesn't really care about Aequitas. The chamber is the means, but this is the end. Destruction. Breaking someone in the most artful manner he possibly can.
Looking at Overlord smiling graciously down at him, he's never hated anyone more in his life.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
Overlord abandons the chassis saw for a more old fashioned chainsaw. A big one.
Max's remaining optic widens. "But...don't you...don't you want...."
"Aequitas?" Overlord laughs. "No. I want what’s underneath Aequitas. I want what Aequitas was built to hide.”
Frag. Frag. Frag. Max's mind races. How does Overlord know about that?
A fresh wave of blistering sensation ripples through him when Overlord grinds the chainsaw into the stump of his missing arm, cutting off only a sliver. Max spits up more energon, the mess dribbling down his chin.
"Did you know," begins Overlord, "that the pain sensors in your arm reset at every node? So every time you lose a new piece, it's like being cut for the first time all over again. Isn't that interesting, Max? It's like you Autobots were built to be tortured."
Through the haze, Max keeps boosting power to his memory retrieval systems. He offlines major processes. Hydraulics, cooling fans, secondary energon circulation. He even stops self-repair altogether.
It's risky. He's risking a major systems crash that could wipe out his short-term memory files completely. But he's getting flashes of purple and snippets of voices.
Overlord cuts through another piece of his arm, the suffering as fresh as the first time. "I wonder how your men will hold up to this treatment?"
Systems failure, file irretrievable.
Every pulse of his spark. Every action in a long life full of compromises. Every thread of his very existence. It's all come down to this. And if Max ever considered himself a pacifist, or had plans beyond war and horror, he dumps all that too. He puts everything he has into his desire to protect the cause. To stop Overlord. To retrieve one tiny file.
"Overlord," he rasps, diverting whatever he can spare to his vocalizer.
"Yes?" The tip of one of his fingers is circling Max's exposed valve, no doubt the next destination on the pain train.
And Max's broken, battered face cracks into a small smile. Here goes nothing.
"Movement Reset: Pi-Alpha-Actual-Orbit. Enable."
For a long time, nothing moves.
Max doesn't dare twitch for fear that the spell will be broken. Because any second now Overlord is going to let loose with his gleeful chuckle and reveal it's all a joke. Of course he can still move, this is just another mind trick to break Max's spirit.
But Overlord does nothing. He just stands there, frozen, his eyes round discs of shock, the playful expression on his face gone. Sounds are coming from his vocalizer, barely a whisper.
"No, no......"
After what feels like an eternity, Max starts cycling power back to his secondary systems. He inches off the table, tight with the expectation that Overlord is going to reach out and grab him.
When that doesn't happen, words that he never thought he'd formulate assemble in his processor. Thank you, Shockwave!
He collapses into the chair behind his desk and stares. It worked. It actually slagging worked! Shockwave must have had his own agenda, after all.
Max reaches shaky fingers to open the hidden compartment in the top drawer of his desk. He pulls out a cube of high grade. "Idiot Decepticons," he mutters as he watches Overlord struggle to move his lips. "Always looking in the wrong places."
The fuel is a boon to his starved systems, allowing Max to feel a bit of strength return to his body. Everything hurts, but he's starting to think a little clearer. He only finishes half the cube. It would be too easy to get a buzz on in this state, and he wants to be sober for this. He stands up and limps around the table.
Overlord is still, although the struggle in his EM field is evident. He's panicking. Really panicking as shock and outrage roll off him in waves. His sculpted facial features, beautiful mouth and raging eyes, are frozen in a horrified circle of surprise.
An indescribable feeling wells up in Fortress Maximus, something between fury, wariness, and giddy delight. He shuffles around the table to pick up one of Overlord's many torture toys.
"Is this an endoscopic claw? These are banned on Garrus-9. You wanna know why?"
He pushes Overlord onto his desk, which promptly collapses under the weight of the huge bot. Overlord is like a moveable statue, frozen but poseable. Max shoves at him until he's on all fours, propped up on his hands and patella joints. Face still a mask of appalled horror.
"We don't use these," says Max as he pries Overlord's mouth open and jams the claw inside. "Because they really slagging hurt."
Overlord's optics widen and he emits a garbled noise when Max turns on the claw. The giant body trembles, EM field a wild mixture of anger and confusion. No doubt Overlord has experienced pain before. No one who works for Megatron escapes that. But this is new. Being at the mercy of an Autobot enemy. Losing.
Overlord never loses, and although he can barely communicate, his outrage is evident. Beautiful, delicious wrath that's better than any high-grade.
Max shuts off the claw and pulls it out of Overlord's mouth, a string of drooling energon still attached. He retrieves a shock stick and pulls himself up to his full height.
"Thought you could best me?” Max hits Overlord with the stick. "I'm Fortress Maximus!" He hits him again, right in the face. The blow smashes Overlord's right optic and Max chuckles. Now they match.
Using every ounce of strength left in his remaining arm, Max beats Overlord with the shock stick. Striking him again and again. Raining blows on his face, his body. He puts everything he has into it; all the pain over everything that Overlord's taken from him. His prison, his dignity, the lives of his men. With every hit his rage ratchets up higher, until he's in a near frenzy of violence.
When he finally exhausts himself, he's dismayed to see that Overlord doesn't have a dent on him. Other than the smashed optic, Max's huge tormentor shows no outward signs of the beating.
Surely he's felt it though. Shockwave said that the code allows Overlord to see, hear, and experience sensation. Maybe even put together a few words. Leaving him alert but immobile, Megatron's preferred state for victims.
Max tries to remember everything he's heard about Phase Sixers. "That's right, that's right. You're covered in some matter from a collapsed star."
The corners of Overlord's mouth twitch, as if he's struggling to smile.
Anger threatens to overwhelm Max. How dare he. How dare Overlord be unable to feel it. The pain that he deserves. "No matter," he mutters. "Prime always says that there's a lot of hype surrounding you Phase Sixers. You're not invincible."
But Overlord's mouth is still twitching, despite the energon leaking out of it. His EM field emitting little charges of something almost...smug.
Watching him, examining his body and his field, something occurs to Max. Physical brutality isn't enough. To truly shake an amoral masochist such as Overlord, pain is never enough. One can start with the body, but to truly break someone, you have to end in the mind.
Overlord wouldn't be the first Phase Sixer to bait Megatron.
Shockwave's words come back to Max again. Of course. Megatron.
He leans down to whisper in Overlord's receivers. "Not invincible. Your joints, other parts of you. You're not completely covered in that stuff. I'm gonna take you apart. And you know what? I'm going to send the pieces to Megatron. Along with a message saying that you rolled over like a bitch bot before me. That your little siege here was a fragging joke."
Overlord's barely perceptible amusement stills, a dark look in his remaining eye.
"He's not coming now, you know," Max whispers. "Not after he hears about this debacle."
Overlord’s not trying to smile anymore.
Max walks around the body, feeling the heat of true victory settle into his spark. It drowns out the little voice in the back of his head that tells him what he's thinking about doing is wrong. That he's always prided himself on being a fair bot, always held himself to such high standards. If he violates those now, what will he be? Is revenge worth the best parts of himself?
Then he thinks about Overlord's maniacal laughter as he threw Max to the prisoners. About the beatings and the rapes that he thought would never end. About the fear, the spark deep fear he felt when all those hands grabbed at him.
And he decides that after this mess, yeah it's worth it. He wants Overlord to hurt like he has.
Prying Overlord's valve cover off takes over twenty minutes, and while the cover itself may be nearly invincible, it still has a seam and latch system. After trying half the tools at his disposal, Max finally finds something he can use to jam into a seam.
He tears the cover off and looks inside, because who knows how Overlord is really built? He wouldn't be surprised if Overlord's valve has some crazy contraption inside designed to grind a spike into shreds. It looks pretty normal though. Megatron's probably been in there, after all.
Laughter bubbles up inside of Max when slides back his own interface cover and pressurizes his spike. Sure he's missing an arm and half his sensors are malfunctioning, but at least his spike still works. Thank Primus.
He leans to a button on the wall near his desk and presses it. Lights flicker on, as does the row of screens on the wall. Not surprising that the Cons have left the monitoring system on. He was counting on it.
"See that one? The one on the bottom left?" asks Max, indicating to the screen that shows them, live in his office. "We record everything here at Garrus-9. That one's us."
He plows his spike into Overlord's valve, grunting as it takes him a few thrusts until he's buried deep. Overlord feels hot and angry around him and oooo.....is that a little lick of shame he feels? Sweet.
"Smile, Overlord," says Max as he pulls out and slams his hips forward again. "We're gonna make a recording for Megatron!"
The hot mesh of Overlord's valve feels good around his spike, but Overlord's silent reaction feels even better. Fear and outrage wash over Max, bathing him in delicious panic. The thought of Megatron seeing this is the worst torture that one could concoct for Overlord. Perfect.
At first it’s hard to fully sheath himself, but after a few thrusts there’s enough wet slide to bury his spike to the hilt. Max grips tight, fragging Overlord with a vengeance. "Like that, do you? You wish this was Megs pounding you? Pathetic." The words come out between grunts. "Some Phase Sixer you are."
It's almost comical how much bigger Overlord is than him. Max wants to reach forward and force Overlord’s head down, but his arms aren't long enough. If the desk hadn't collapsed, he would have probably needed to stand on a chair.
Max grits his dentae so hard it feels like they might shatter. It's good, the whole thing feels good and he doesn't even acknowledge the pain in his arm, or the fact that error messages are still raining across his consciousness. Who's the big bot in charge now?
"The receiving end, Overlord," says Max as he slams in deep. "How does it feel to be on it?”
Emotions cycle across Overlord's EM field, fast and complex. Disgust, shock, fear. A lot of confusion too. Overlord doesn't know what to do with this experience, as if it's inconceivable to him that this could really be happening.
The charge builds fast in Max, driven higher by the sweet excitement of real revenge. His body hurts but it's muted now, off in the distance. In the forefront is the growing pleasure radiating from his spike, and the heady electric tingle across all his sensors. He's close.
And in just two more noisy thrusts he's there. As the blissful charge breaks across him, Max pulls out and overloads on Overlord's back. Spurting transfluid all over that huge chassis. Owning him. Marking his failure. Administering a degradation that Overlord probably hadn't even thought was possible.
Max makes all kinds of noises and moans as he jerks himself. The overload itself is good but whatever, a lick of pleasure amidst all the pain. But if this isn't the most satisfying interface he's ever had.
Covered in fluid, Overlord's only physical reaction is a minute tremble, defeat curling around him like a second field. He whispers something in a tiny voice, something Max can barely make out.
"How.....how could I best Megatron when I am reduced to this?"
Max smacks his one good hand on Overlord's huge aft. "Damn right."
Then there's a sound at the door, a startled intake of air. Max whirls around to see someone standing in the entrance.
It's Kick-Off, looking more stunned than Max has ever seen. The guard's jaw plates are nearly on the floor, optics wide. He's staring at Max like the Warden is the most badaft bot that ever existed.
"S-sir."
"Kick-Off," says Max, holding his head up high and trying to look official. Too late he realizes his spike is still hanging out. Oops. He snaps the casing shut like it's no big deal.
"Is....is that...."
"Listen up," says Max. "We were sold out by someone and the payback starts here. At Garrus-9"
"Yes, yes, sir."
"Get me a weapon, and a damn medic if there's one left alive."
"Yes, sir."
"And find whoever's left. We need to put a team together now. We're taking back the prison." Max grabs one of Overlord's enormous guns, dismayed when he realizes he can’t lift it. Instead he leans against it, hoping the pose is still inspiring. "First we're going back to the Last Resort. We need to open a cell before we launch an all out assault. Cell 8573."
"Who...who's in there, sir?"
Max grins. "Impactor."
Kick-Off nods once and runs out the door.
Max pushes the gun aside and picks up the endoscopic claw again, eyeing Overlord’s valve.
“Sooooo,” he drawls. “Where else do you think we can put this?”
Three years later.....
Springer can't believe his optics as he stares at the outside of Garrus-9. It looks like someone dropped a bomb on the place. There are dead bodies everywhere, pieces of bots so charred they're unrecognizable. Stakes surround the outside of the prison. Stakes with Decepticon heads on top of them.
This is not what he expected to find. Intelligence said that the prison was attacked over three years ago, but there had been no word since then. Springer wonders if this is bad intelligence, or "Prowl intelligence". The latter kind often omitted some important facts.
The new recruits banter behind him.
"Wow," says Rotorstorm. "I haven't seen this many dead Decepticons since Thunderhead Pass."
Pyro rolls his optics.
"No?" asks Rotorstorm. "Too early?"
"Too early."
"Still?"
"Shaddup," says Kup, silencing the recruits. To Springer he murmurs, "I don't like this."
"Yeah," says Springer, noticing someone approaching them. "Me neither. Who's that?"
They raise their guns, but when the bot gets within range, Springer lowers his in shock. Holy slag.
"Impactor?"
"Springer."
"What happened here?"
Impactor ignores the question. "Follow me. Boss wants to have a word with you. This way."
The Wreckers follow, wary with guns still drawn. Impactor leads them through the prison. There are char marks on the walls and evidence of battle. Garrus-9 must’ve fallen on hard times, but Autobot guards are still going about their business. Not a Decepticon in sight.
"In here." Impactor points to an office that just says "Warden" on the door.
The sight that greets them is astounding, and Springer reboots his optics just to make sure he's really seeing this. Fortress Maximus sits behind his desk, looking calm and composed despite the fact that he’s missing his right optic.
There's an explosion of shocked whispers behind Springer.
"No way. No way!" exclaims Ironfist.
"Is that? It is!"
"No. It can't be."
"Dude," says Rotorstorm.
Perceptor doesn’t say anything, he's too busy staring as Verity hangs on his fingers and begs him to explain what’s happening.
"You seein' this?" asks Kup.
"I'm seeing it," says Springer, rebooting his optics once again. "But I'm not sure I believe it."
All eyes are fixed on Fortress Maximus' newest piece of furniture, a giant Decepticon on his knees right next to Max's desk. He's blindfolded, with shock sticks driven into his joints. His hands are bound behind his back with stasis cuffs, head lying sideways on the floor facing them.
Those luscious lips are unmistakable. It's Overlord. It's fragging Overlord and he's gagged with something big and round and Springer almost glitches when he realizes what it is. A transformation cog.
Fort Max has Overlord bound and gagged with his own T-cog.
"Epic," Pyro whispers reverently, as if he's looking at Optimus Prime himself.
"Max," says Springer. "What's going on here?"
"Springer." Fortress Maximus lifts up his heels and places them on Overlord's back. "What the frag took you so long?”
The End