Kick in the Head - Detention
Title: Kick in the Head - Detention
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: Mentioned Ironhide/Optimus Prime
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ironhide had only counted on dealing with Megatron's wrath. But the Lord High Protector isn't the only one who watches over the Prime.
Warnings: Mentioned mech smut, non-graphic torture.
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) I consider the entire Kick in the Head series to be in the same 'verse as Glances into a Spark.
Table of Contents
o o o
Ironhide grunted as another blast struck, pain flaring briefly, only to settle into the overall ache that was his body. He flexed his hands, testing the grip of his captors for the hundredth time - no give, and their fingers were jammed into strategic points that prevented him from withdrawing any weaponry. They each had a foot trapping his legs against the ground, forcing him into a kneeling position, and they had the strength and leverage to keep him in place. Another blast, and another, a slow, steady rhythm of pain and cracking armor and splattering energon.
A pause, and rough fingers jerked his head back, a cold face in his line of vision. "Do you repent, sinner?" the mech asked softly.
The Wardens of Primus. Everyone knew who they were, even if most thought them a tall tale. A self-appointed group, as old as the Matrix of Leadership itself, who watched over the Prime from behind the scenes, ensuring that the sanctity of the Chosen Child of Primus remained whole and true. And Ironhide had fallen on the entirely wrong side of their anger by showing Optimus Prime just how enjoyable interfacing could be. A blasphemy in their eyes, to even think of the Prime as a living, laughing, loving mech like any other. Of course, the Prime was a perfect being, which meant that Ironhide was entirely at fault and would bear the harshest of punishments.
"Do you not see what were are trying to do for you?" the cold mech continued. "If you die, and go into Primus' waiting arms with such a flaw on your Spark, he will destroy you in his anger. Better to repent to us now, and beg for His forgiveness for tainting his Child."
"I don't recall Optimus asking you to protect his purity," Ironhide rasped, only to have his head knocked aside by a heavy blow.
"You will speak the Prime's name with respect!" the other hissed. The blasts started again, two mechs taking turns, carefully aiming to cause the most pain. Redemption. Right. This was a torture session. They only wanted to hear him scream for forgiveness before they killed him. He was well aware that they were going to kill him, to better protect Optimus, to make sure the Prime didn't fall again to temptation. Over the whine-thump of the cannon blasts, he heard the leader speaking again. "The Prime is still young, his Spark able to be swayed by unworthy words. We will keep him pure, as Primus has wished."
"Primus made him the way he is," Ironhide snarled. "If He didn't want Optimus to interface with another, I doubt He'd have made him so slaggin' good at it. And if Primus doesn't want Optimus interfacing, then I'll just have to show him how good it can be when I get to him!"
Blasphemous words, even by Ironhide's standards, but it was worth seeing them riled up. The leader stared down at him, cold anger twisting his face. "He dies unrepentant," he said. "And let Primus show him no mercy." About time. He was really getting tired of being blasted at. Ironhide lifted his head, defiantly staring down the two shooters and their cannons, which were slowly charging to maximum strength, more than capable of killing him in his weakened state. With all optics on him, only he saw the huge mech stalking up behind the two - the huge, familiar mech.
Megatron grabbed the two shooters, one in each hand, and brought their helms together with a sickening crunch. One dropped like a stone, the other was thrown like debris. The mech holding Ironhide's left arm let go to catch the airborne mech, and Ironhide swung his newly freed arm around, already morphing it's form, to let off two blasts - one in the leg of the leader, the other in the face of the mech on his right. His other captor fell back with a howl, and Ironhide dropped to his hands and knees, trying to find the strength to stand even as energon dribbled to the ground around him. Megatron silenced the howling mech with a vicious kick, then rounded on his other captor, who was up again and ready to attack. There was a brief flurry of movement that ended when Megatron's fist caught the other in the abdomen, metal plates collapsing inward like they were made of the thinnest silicon.
Megatron stepped over the fallen to make his way towards their leader, who was struggling to stand on a twisted, charred leg. Dispassionately, the Lord High Protector reached down to the struggling mech, hooking his fingers under the other's chest plates and pulling him up until they were face to face. The smaller mech grimaced in pain, his feet dangling well over his own height away from the ground, but he didn't make a sound. "The protection of Optimus Prime," Megatron said flatly. "Is my concern. I do not recall asking you for your assistance."
"You would let him sully the Prime's sacred Spark with his unworthy hands," the other gasped.
"He is not alone. My hands have 'sullied' the Prime as well. Would you kill me too, Warden?" Megatron brought the mech up closer, Pitfire optics blazing. "Optimus Prime makes his own choices, as Primus has given him the right to do so, and no one - you, nor I, nor the Counsel - shall gainsay him. Go back to your master, and tell him that Megatron takes a dim view of vigilantes." A casual flick of his wrist sent the mech flying, and Megatron walked back to Ironhide's side. "Can you walk?" he asked.
Ironhide flexed his hands against the ground, testing his strength. "With assistance," he said grudgingly. Megatron nodded, pulling the warrior up by one arm, draping his own arm around Ironhide's midsection for support. Ironhide found himself reluctantly leaning on Megatron as they worked their way out of the dark building where Ironhide had been dragged for his torture.
A transport was waiting a short distance away, a small, unmarked, Sparkless vehicle. Megatron eased Ironhide into one of the seats, then typed in the command that would take them straight to the great Spire at Iacon's center. They traveled in silence, as Ironhide's repair systems closed off the worst of the damage and Megatron stared out a window. Finally, as the Spire came into sight, Ironhide spoke. "I get the impression," he said, split plating on his cheek echoing with pain as he spoke. "That, former instructor or no, you wouldn't mind if I dropped off the face of the planet. So, why rescue me?"
"The Wardens were far too presumptuous in thinking to punish you," Megatron replied, not looking at him. "You are under my command, and if you are in need of punishment, of any sort, that decision is up to me."
"You could have let them kill me, though," Ironhide pointed out. "And gone after them once the deed was done."
"Maybe I want to kill you myself."
"You would have just done it," Ironhide pointed out. "Instead of putting me under your command. You're too straight-forward to do otherwise."
Megatron gave him a brief, odd look, then looked pointedly away. "You make him happy," he said, looking uncomfortable. "Despite what I think of you, Optimus considers you his friend, and that is reason enough to stand having you around. Though I do hope that he grows tired of you, or you do something to make him hate you, so that I have a reason to rid myself of you."
"Enough to plant evidence?" Ironhide pressed. "Or convince him some other way?"
"No." Megatron said firmly. "I don't like you, but I don't hate you enough to risk losing his regard for good, should he discover such a ruse. Besides, I doubt you'll need my help."
"So, until then, I'm right under your thumb," Ironhide chuckled, sitting back. "And I'm sure that you'll think of plenty of ways to make me miserable."
"I'm sure you'll return the favor." Megatron replied dryly. "Just keep Optimus out of it."
Ironhide nodded as they passed into the shadow of the Spire, the movement sending sharp bolts of pain through his neural circuits. "Don't have to worry about that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to offline now." The last thing he heard was Megatron saying something in an indignant tone, the words themselves blurred as he slipped down the slope of unconsciousness.
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: Mentioned Ironhide/Optimus Prime
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ironhide had only counted on dealing with Megatron's wrath. But the Lord High Protector isn't the only one who watches over the Prime.
Warnings: Mentioned mech smut, non-graphic torture.
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) I consider the entire Kick in the Head series to be in the same 'verse as Glances into a Spark.
Table of Contents
o o o
Ironhide grunted as another blast struck, pain flaring briefly, only to settle into the overall ache that was his body. He flexed his hands, testing the grip of his captors for the hundredth time - no give, and their fingers were jammed into strategic points that prevented him from withdrawing any weaponry. They each had a foot trapping his legs against the ground, forcing him into a kneeling position, and they had the strength and leverage to keep him in place. Another blast, and another, a slow, steady rhythm of pain and cracking armor and splattering energon.
A pause, and rough fingers jerked his head back, a cold face in his line of vision. "Do you repent, sinner?" the mech asked softly.
The Wardens of Primus. Everyone knew who they were, even if most thought them a tall tale. A self-appointed group, as old as the Matrix of Leadership itself, who watched over the Prime from behind the scenes, ensuring that the sanctity of the Chosen Child of Primus remained whole and true. And Ironhide had fallen on the entirely wrong side of their anger by showing Optimus Prime just how enjoyable interfacing could be. A blasphemy in their eyes, to even think of the Prime as a living, laughing, loving mech like any other. Of course, the Prime was a perfect being, which meant that Ironhide was entirely at fault and would bear the harshest of punishments.
"Do you not see what were are trying to do for you?" the cold mech continued. "If you die, and go into Primus' waiting arms with such a flaw on your Spark, he will destroy you in his anger. Better to repent to us now, and beg for His forgiveness for tainting his Child."
"I don't recall Optimus asking you to protect his purity," Ironhide rasped, only to have his head knocked aside by a heavy blow.
"You will speak the Prime's name with respect!" the other hissed. The blasts started again, two mechs taking turns, carefully aiming to cause the most pain. Redemption. Right. This was a torture session. They only wanted to hear him scream for forgiveness before they killed him. He was well aware that they were going to kill him, to better protect Optimus, to make sure the Prime didn't fall again to temptation. Over the whine-thump of the cannon blasts, he heard the leader speaking again. "The Prime is still young, his Spark able to be swayed by unworthy words. We will keep him pure, as Primus has wished."
"Primus made him the way he is," Ironhide snarled. "If He didn't want Optimus to interface with another, I doubt He'd have made him so slaggin' good at it. And if Primus doesn't want Optimus interfacing, then I'll just have to show him how good it can be when I get to him!"
Blasphemous words, even by Ironhide's standards, but it was worth seeing them riled up. The leader stared down at him, cold anger twisting his face. "He dies unrepentant," he said. "And let Primus show him no mercy." About time. He was really getting tired of being blasted at. Ironhide lifted his head, defiantly staring down the two shooters and their cannons, which were slowly charging to maximum strength, more than capable of killing him in his weakened state. With all optics on him, only he saw the huge mech stalking up behind the two - the huge, familiar mech.
Megatron grabbed the two shooters, one in each hand, and brought their helms together with a sickening crunch. One dropped like a stone, the other was thrown like debris. The mech holding Ironhide's left arm let go to catch the airborne mech, and Ironhide swung his newly freed arm around, already morphing it's form, to let off two blasts - one in the leg of the leader, the other in the face of the mech on his right. His other captor fell back with a howl, and Ironhide dropped to his hands and knees, trying to find the strength to stand even as energon dribbled to the ground around him. Megatron silenced the howling mech with a vicious kick, then rounded on his other captor, who was up again and ready to attack. There was a brief flurry of movement that ended when Megatron's fist caught the other in the abdomen, metal plates collapsing inward like they were made of the thinnest silicon.
Megatron stepped over the fallen to make his way towards their leader, who was struggling to stand on a twisted, charred leg. Dispassionately, the Lord High Protector reached down to the struggling mech, hooking his fingers under the other's chest plates and pulling him up until they were face to face. The smaller mech grimaced in pain, his feet dangling well over his own height away from the ground, but he didn't make a sound. "The protection of Optimus Prime," Megatron said flatly. "Is my concern. I do not recall asking you for your assistance."
"You would let him sully the Prime's sacred Spark with his unworthy hands," the other gasped.
"He is not alone. My hands have 'sullied' the Prime as well. Would you kill me too, Warden?" Megatron brought the mech up closer, Pitfire optics blazing. "Optimus Prime makes his own choices, as Primus has given him the right to do so, and no one - you, nor I, nor the Counsel - shall gainsay him. Go back to your master, and tell him that Megatron takes a dim view of vigilantes." A casual flick of his wrist sent the mech flying, and Megatron walked back to Ironhide's side. "Can you walk?" he asked.
Ironhide flexed his hands against the ground, testing his strength. "With assistance," he said grudgingly. Megatron nodded, pulling the warrior up by one arm, draping his own arm around Ironhide's midsection for support. Ironhide found himself reluctantly leaning on Megatron as they worked their way out of the dark building where Ironhide had been dragged for his torture.
A transport was waiting a short distance away, a small, unmarked, Sparkless vehicle. Megatron eased Ironhide into one of the seats, then typed in the command that would take them straight to the great Spire at Iacon's center. They traveled in silence, as Ironhide's repair systems closed off the worst of the damage and Megatron stared out a window. Finally, as the Spire came into sight, Ironhide spoke. "I get the impression," he said, split plating on his cheek echoing with pain as he spoke. "That, former instructor or no, you wouldn't mind if I dropped off the face of the planet. So, why rescue me?"
"The Wardens were far too presumptuous in thinking to punish you," Megatron replied, not looking at him. "You are under my command, and if you are in need of punishment, of any sort, that decision is up to me."
"You could have let them kill me, though," Ironhide pointed out. "And gone after them once the deed was done."
"Maybe I want to kill you myself."
"You would have just done it," Ironhide pointed out. "Instead of putting me under your command. You're too straight-forward to do otherwise."
Megatron gave him a brief, odd look, then looked pointedly away. "You make him happy," he said, looking uncomfortable. "Despite what I think of you, Optimus considers you his friend, and that is reason enough to stand having you around. Though I do hope that he grows tired of you, or you do something to make him hate you, so that I have a reason to rid myself of you."
"Enough to plant evidence?" Ironhide pressed. "Or convince him some other way?"
"No." Megatron said firmly. "I don't like you, but I don't hate you enough to risk losing his regard for good, should he discover such a ruse. Besides, I doubt you'll need my help."
"So, until then, I'm right under your thumb," Ironhide chuckled, sitting back. "And I'm sure that you'll think of plenty of ways to make me miserable."
"I'm sure you'll return the favor." Megatron replied dryly. "Just keep Optimus out of it."
Ironhide nodded as they passed into the shadow of the Spire, the movement sending sharp bolts of pain through his neural circuits. "Don't have to worry about that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to offline now." The last thing he heard was Megatron saying something in an indignant tone, the words themselves blurred as he slipped down the slope of unconsciousness.