Chapter Text
Optimus was ripped from his forced stasis with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt to the face. His voice synthesizer jolted to life with a scream, as did the rest of his components, crackling with electricity.
The pain stopped.
A Decepticon (judging by the insignia welded onto his chest—what was up with people in this dimension and having these welded anyway? Wasn't a sticker good enough for them?) strode into view. His shoulders were capped in a lattice of spikes and a short cannon was built into his forearm. He was the colour of a corpse.
"What is your name, little Autobot?" said the Decepticon.
Optimus twisted his wrists, testing the bond. Tight, but an awkward fit. They were clearly designed for something shaped differently than himself. "Optimus Prime."
The Decepticon sneered. Light glinted off the broadside of his helmet. "Wrong answer." He stepped closer, claws tilting Optimus' gaze to meet his own. "Try again."
He fought the urge to flinch. "Orion." The codename of their ship was a safe guess, right? And it was what he was going by around here anyway…
"Wrong again." The Decepticon squeezed, hard enough to leave imprints in the metal. "Careful, Autobot. You wouldn't want to make me mad."
"Okay, fine, you got me, it's—uh—Rescue… Roy."
"Very well then, Rescue Roy," said the Decepticon, drawing back. "You find yourself in the fortunate position of being able to be quite useful to me. I require some information."
"I don't have any." This much was true, at least. He didn't even know the location of the Autobot base other than the vague "in the middle of a desert somewhere".
"Some advice: don't lie to a Decepticon, though it hardly matters now. I will take the knowledge from your processor. Knock Out!"
A red sports car—the same one who'd knocked Optimus out—entered the room and moved behind him. Optimus felt something push uselessly against the back of his helm.
"Well, that's odd…" Clawed fingers prodded Optimus' neck. "It's not connecting with his systems." Still trying, Knock Out attempted jimmying a claw between Optimus' protoform and helmet. Optimus folded his head into his shoulders.
"You are quite the pest," said the spiky Decepticon.
He almost laughed. "I get that a lot."
"I look forward to seeing you break."
Something jabbed into his side and lightning tore through his circuits, searing his plating inside and out. He bit down a scream as he arced off the table. His vision laced with static. Abruptly, the pain stopped, and he sagged back. "You…" He swallowed. His head had unfolded again. "You didn't even ask me any questions yet."
"Very true. That was merely a taste of what will happen if we do not find your answers satisfactory. I shall leave Shockwave to deal with the interrogation.”
A purple mech lumbered into the room, staring holes into Optimus with his lone red optic. The chain on his cannon swayed back and forth as he walked.
As the other Decepticons filed out, Shockwave continued staring at Optimus, unmoving. Not even the barest flick of a headfin.
“Um.”
“I have questions,” said Shockwave. “Respond to the best of your ability.”
“Even if I did know something, I’d never tell you.”
Shockwave tilted his head. “These questions are personal in nature. The information provided should not be sufficient to harm your fellow Autobots. How old are you?”
Giving the answer would cost nothing. Failing to provide the answer would result in needless pain. He had to save his resistance for where it mattered. “Two thousand stellar cycles.”
“Stellar cycles?”
Slag, did they… not use stellar cycles here? “Years. I meant… years.”
“Where were you sparked?”
“Iacon.” Optimus was doing his best to work his way free without drawing attention. He thought he was doing a good job, but it was hard to tell when Shockwave had no pupils or external reactions to speak of. His wrists could only rotate, but the cuffs didn’t appear to limit the opening for his grapplers.
“Where were you during the Fall of Cybertron?”
“Let’s just say I wasn’t around.” On the other hand, his pedes… he could bend those far forward enough that he could slip them free. What could he do with two free legs and some loose range?
Shockwave crept ever closer. “If you were not on Cybertron, then where were you?”
“Uh. Not…” He hesitated. “Not sparked yet?”
“If you were sparked after the war and are an Autobot, it is only logical that the Allspark has been located and used.” Now Shockwave was close enough that Optimus wanted to crane his neck backwards. “Where are the rest of you?”
Like he could answer that.
Optimus thrust a now-freed pede into Shockwave’s chest and whipped a bolo around his legs as he stumbled backwards. He flipped his legs into vehicle mode and spun his wheels until his chest angled enough to free his wrists. The cuffs scraped into his plating as he completed the transformation, a firetruck leaping off of the slab.
Shockwave was still trying to undo the ropes around his legs with one servo, but he stopped to aim a cannon at Optimus.
Optimus ran over him on his way out.
Now all he had to do was successfully navigate a location he had absolutely no clue about (what was this even, a fortress? A ship?), find a control panel or an exit, comm the Autobots, and hope very very hard that they picked him up on time. All without getting caught.
Totally doable.