radioactivibee:

He really needed to start testing his energon before ingesting it. Sometime, he’d have to blow the rest of his shanix on specific mods for his digits. In the long run, it’d be less expensive than the bills he’d get after being treated for whatever new slag in his system.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been poisoned and he doubted it’d be the last. Though last time, he didn’t remember a poison this devastating or painful. His lines burned, leaving him writhing and screaming on the floor. Already, a few minor lines had leaks, the poison meant to corrode the inner tubes until the bot finally bled out and terminated. However, that took time and every klik was agony.

So it was understandable when Bumblebee didn’t protest as something else was shoved down his intake. He barely felt the additional prick to a main line too.

Finally, the burning started to dull. His screams tapered off as he registered a large, clawed servo holding him up. Slowly, his optics drifted upwards and though his input was heavily pixelated, he could recognize the mech before him. Fortunately for Megatron, he was too exhausted to put up much of a fight.

“I don’t understand…” He blearily tried to focus his optics. “Why did you help?”

The antidote started to take, but Megatron didn’t release the quieting scout, still too weak to move on his own. He was stablizing for now, but a medic would still have to close the lines that had ruptured. The warlord of course knew how, but Bumblebee was no longer in immediate danger, and likely would object to Megatron poking around his internals no matter his intentions.

It was always interesting hearing that voice again. After all, he’d been the one to silence it in the first place, and the first time he’d heard it since then coincided with the moment of his near demise. Maybe “interesting” was the wrong word. 

“Because cowardly assassins don’t deserve the satisfaction.” Megatron shifted, moving to lift the scout into his arms. If he hadn’t experienced it for himself, it would have been impossible to believe that he’d once inhabited the very same much-smaller frame. Ah, memories. He looked ahead rather than at the dazed Bumblebee, walking in the direction of civilization, and hopefully, a more welcome medic.

“You defeated me in battle.” Or at least, a different Megatron in the exact same fashion. Semantics. He spoke plainly, as if these were the most obvious facts in the world. “If you are to perish, it will be at the servos of someone who faces you as you faced me. Some nameless shadow is not worthy.”