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Failing to win against Optimus Prime has been an annoyingly persistent state of affairs, especially after a decade of the stalemate on this miserable pit of a backwater planet. So many plans laid waste due to some unforeseen circumstances (malfunction, spontaneous), sabotage (malfunction, usually via Starscream), or counteroffensive (malfunction, most often in a form of a lucky Autobot) - it was becoming harder to find something that would work, options limited to what he could find here, on Earth, and sometimes gain back from Cybertron through one of not-yet-destroyed space bridges.
In short, Megatron was starting to run out of ideas.
Realizing the madness of trying to reach a different result by doing the same thing long ago, he got over his pride and took a deep dive into some methods the humans have taken over the years, looking for inspiration.
Very quickly it became apparent that while the people on this planet were organic, fragile, and short-lived, they managed to collect an impressive arsenal of ways to bring pain and destruction upon one another. Not all of them could be applied on an average Cybertronian, but even he could admire the ingenuity. Scribbling notes on a datapad, he was hoping something would stand out, as he searched the databases for keywords like 'death by', 'torture', or 'getting rid of' to narrow his search to methods themselves.
One of the combinations of words was so bizarre, he stared at it for a very long time, torn between confusion and intrigue.
Smile stretching across his face, he wrote the details down, processor already taken with the consideration of adequate replacement materials.
He had found something Optimus Prime would never predict.
*****
Starscream took a curious look inside one of the labs, occupied for the last solar cycles by their leader. The walls have been covered with splatters of energon, making the room look like a scene of a massacre.
In the middle stood Megatron, muttering to himself with maniacal glee; whatever he was doing was going well, judging by the occasional cackling leaving the silver mech.
The seeker tried to make sense as to what their Lord was working on; it seemed to be made from different layers. He couldn't see any indication as to how the thing was going to work, but maybe it was a part of camouflage, preventing the average onlooker from realizing what the item was going to do.
"Oh, glorious leader, do you require assistance?" the jet asked, hoping to gleam the details of the mysterious plan the idiot in charge has cooked up this time; he wasn't surprised the other didn't even turn to look at him, so sure in his might, but the pleased tone in which he greeted him with a "Hello to you too, Starscream," was mildly concerning.
"Well, mighty Megatron? Want to fill your Second in Command in?" the seeker inquired once again, stepping closer, leaning on the edge of the desk cautiously - it was covered with energon as well, and he had just polished his armor. In no way would he let it be dirtied so soon!
"Actually, now that you mention it, I do need you to do something," the taller mech mentioned, not looking away from his masterpiece; knowing that most likely Soundwave was listening in too, he didn't worry about the orders he would give would be misinterpreted in any way. Especially as they had been out of combat for a few weeks by now, making most of the crew antsy and angry, despising being cooped up with no proper release for so long.
Keeping Decepticons from slagging the ship so close to its final stage of repair (again) was one of his highest priorities, after all.
"Take our forces out for some exercise - I need them to round up as many Autobots as you can, and keep them imprisoned," he commanded, shocking the flier by the lack of direction; usually he would have given a more definitive plan, but in this case, he needed the seeker to deal with the bait - and the audience, at once.
He needed to make Optimus's death into a spectacle to force them all into despair, as they will watch their beloved Prime sacrifice himself for them once again.
Starscream felt his wings hike up at the order, but without knowing what the tyrant was building even after scanning it over and over again, he huffed in indignation, walking away. He was going to do as Megatron asked, this time, but at the earliest moment the inevitable failure makes itself known, he would be the first to tell the silver bot off once again.
Maybe this time the old fool would understand the error of his ways and step down, letting him lead the Decepticons instead.
Glancing briefly at the SIC, the warlord snickered at the retreating back. He knew the seeker long enough to know the mech was furious to be kept in the dark, but with a scheme like this, the less of a chance anyone had to temper with his ultimate weapon, the better.
*****
Optimus arrived at the coordinates sent by Megatron within an hour, barely making it into the specified time window the silver mech had given him to get there if he wanted to save his Autobots from certain peril. He could see them gathered in reinforced cages around a raised platform, at which the Decepticon command stood proud, awaiting him with crossed arms and cocky smirks.
"I was worried you wouldn't make it, Prime," their leader yelled at him cheerfully, causing the trapped Bots to protest loudly; each of them asked the red and blue mech to leave, to not fall into whatever scheme their enemies had in store for him - it wasn't worth it!
Optimus could only reassure them with his words and pacifying gestures, as he kept his optics on the Cons - there was no giant doomsday devices, nor any menacing tools of torture.
There was only a chair, a small table, and a box that lay on top of it.
Immediately suspicious, he could only guess as to what horror was laying within.
"I came on time, Megatron," he retorted, stepping up onto the platform, resisting the urge to take his blaster out - outnumbered like that he wouldn't win, but he would take some of those bastards with him. Bracing his servos on his hips, he stood tall; he would not be easily intimidated. "You mentioned a deal in exchange for the mechs you snatched in the broad daylight," he reminded loudly, getting straight to business.
"That I did, Prime, I sure did," the warlord confirmed with a grin, stepping closer to the other leader, safe in his advantage. "And since you are here, I can give you the details now," he added giddily, stretching his arms out wide.
"I am going to give you a choice," he said, raising one of his servos up. "Either you walk away now, and your crew gets killed off one by one," the silver mech offered, sweeping their surroundings with his red optics; the threat was made more tangible by weapons being powered up by his own crew, pointing them at the captured Autobots, only waiting for a sign from the leader to get onto that point on the agenda.
Optimus estimated that no matter what he does, at least a quarter of the captives would drop dead before he freed them to allow any sort of evasive maneuvers. His enemy noticed the edge of panic in the blue optics, before he lowered his arm, putting the other one up - going to the alternative. "Or you face my newest challenge for you," he proposed, his face split by a menacing smirk.
He knew the Prime didn't really have a choice.
"If you succeed without dying, I'll let you and yours go free," the tyrant clarified the stakes, ignoring the way his Decepticons turned sharply to watch their leader, obviously not privy to that particular detail beforehand.
Optimus didn't like the way the option sounded, but he knew his nemesis knew he would be unable to not play into his hand. "All I have to do is survive?" he queried, playing for time - his processor was evaluating alternatives, and one of them included noticing how at least two different cages were being slowly weakened by Bots within.
If he managed to play into this scheme, taking Megatron's attention long enough that they get free, should he fail, they would be able to get themselves out - his other Autobots were anxiously waiting for a signal to move in, held back only by the threat made that at sign of any companions coming with the Prime, Cons would simply shoot everyone down at once. If he timed it correctly, they would be able to get a drop on their opponents when they gloated about their victory, risking least casualties.
"Yes, that's all," the silver mech confirmed, glad to see the scheme proceeding as expected - one thing he could always count on was the bleeding spark of the other leader.
The red and blue bot squared his shoulders as he met his optics. "I pick the challenge, then," he answered with an air of finality.
"Optimus, no!" the captured Autobots shouted, alarmed; he didn't spare them a look, hoping the Decepticons would do the same, letting his people work without getting caught too early.
"Aww, that is so touching, I could throw up," Megatron sneered, finding the entire display pathetic - but maybe that was something that was required to be an Autobot; judging by their commander, it might as well have been a necessity for the sign up. "I knew your Autobot spark would make you choose like this, so I hope you've made peace with life, Prime," he warned, motioning the mech to sit on the prepared chair. When Optimus complied, the tyrant places his own servos on the red shoulders and whispered into his audial:
"After this, you won't be here for much longer."
While the mech was used to similar threats being made before, he couldn't predict precisely what was hidden under the container; his mask would protect him partially, that was certain, but what if it was something exceptionally sinister? The silver Con was unpredictable in his choices for years, and there was no intel suggesting there had been anything new developed of this size-
With a cheerful smile, Megatron uncovered his surprise weapon.
Silence fell across the crowd, as Optimus stared at the thing in confusion.
"What is this?" he asked, voice hoarse; the rest of the Decepticons took a look as well, craning their necks to stare as to what sort of torture device had their commander prepared for this enemy, only to join the Autobot in his befuddlement.
"It's my challenge for you, Prime," the silver mech informed with mockery in his voice, as he took one of the prepared utensils to take a swipe at the item, scooping some of the soft glaze and mousse below it onto the spoon. Taking it carefully close to the other's face, he tapped on the mouth guard, plainly requesting for it to open. "Eat it all - if you don't die, you win, simple as that," he promised menacingly, slowly but surely putting what was quite obviously some sort of a cake made of energon closer, invading the mech's personal space without any care in the world.
Optimus wasn't sure if he was missing something, leaning back, away from the dessert held by his enemy. "Is it poisoned?" he asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice that there was something that would make sense in this scenario - there had to be something in the food, something that made Megatron perform this scheme in the first place.
The silver Con only grinned, putting the spoon closer, nearly smearing it on the mask, as he replied with a question of his own:
"Would you believe me if I said it wasn't?"
"Fair point," Prime conceded, unshielding his face with a grimace, gingerly taking hold of the utensil on his own - he would not be fed by his nemesis if he could help it, especially with an audience. Taking a quick scan, he could only find energon; processed in a very specific way, bit still fundamentally unchanged.
Preparing himself for the worst, he took a bite.
The crowd observed in terror and anticipation as the red and blue bot paused, looking surprised. "Yes… yes…" the warlord was rubbing his servos in excitement, watching the Autobot stare at the spoon - no doubt he was trying to figure out the genius of his plan, too foolish to comprehend the complexity behind it.
Optimus opened his intakes, closed them, and then muttered, perplexed:
"It's… actually quite good."
Both Decepticons and Autobots alike turned to stare at the warlord, puzzled; Megatron didn't let it bother him, waving his servo derisively. "We shall see if you will say the same by the time you're done, Prime," he taunted the other instead, motioning for the red and blue bot to pick up the pace.
At first cautious, awaiting signs of any compromise to his internals, then with more vigor, Optimus proceeded to devour the treat set in front of him. "It is a bit heavy, but otherwise…" he commented offhandedly, enjoying the taste immensely. There hadn't been much variety in energon preparation during their war, but in this case the layers of different textures were giving a rich experience to his palette, making him almost moan a few times at the sweetness.
The only drawback he noticed, not even halfway through the dish, was its size. His tanks were already nearly full, taking in the excessive amount of energy and greedily processing it as he ate, making him drowsy. "It's so much…" he mumbled, putting the spoon down, hoping for a small break.
A hard slam on the desk made him sober up a lot, the harshness of the noise and the proximity of it making him jolt.
"I told you to eat it all. So eat. It. All. Prime," Megatron gritted out, unwilling to give the mech any respite - he needed to get this done and over with, so his crew would stop looking at him like he went mad.
With a groan, the Autobot leader continued to make his way through the cake; the last few pieces were agonizing, he could have sworn he was made more of the dessert than his own armor. "Okay, I'm… done…" he announced, gesturing to the clean plate, as he tried to stand up from the chair - only to stagger and fall down with a grunt, servos wrapped around himself in pain.
"Oh no, Optimus!" the captured Bots wailed, reaching through the bars of the cages, as if they could reach their Prime by sheer force of will. The Decepticons started to laugh finally, losing some of the tension that was keeping them silent throughout the ordeal; perhaps their commander managed the impossible despite all odds?
The mech laying on the dirt only winced, curling up on himself, as he initiated the distress signal to get the other Autobots to move in. "Ugh, I think I've had too much…" he whimpered, letting the shudder rock him as he suffered through the pain.
"Yes, suffer, Prime! Soon you will be dead and I shall be victorious once and for all!" Megatron rejoiced, unperturbed by the sounds of distress coming from his fallen enemy; even the fact that one of the cages fell open, releasing some of the Autobots that crowded their leader in worry didn't ruin his good mood.
"Optimus, why have you done this?" Bumblebee cried out, holding the larger servo in his smaller ones, patting the blue helm soothingly. The bigger mech turned closer to the minibot, summoning a smile to reassure everyone even a little bit - the reinforcements were close by, he had to keep the attention for as long as possible on himself.
"I had to, it was my duty to you all as your commander," he noted warmly, his peaceful expression screwed up by the ache spreading through his circuits; it was so bad, what was in that delicious cake of evil?
When he heard the loud yelling from Decepticons, warning each other to duck as there were wrenches thrown at them with extreme prejudice, he sighed with relief - if Ratchet was there, then Jazz, Prowl, and everyone else would be there too.
"But what will we do without you," the yellow scout sniffled, to which he wanted to offer some kind words in return; yet as another hard shudder made him curl up more, he only wheezed out:
"You will manage…"
Pushing Bumblebee aside, Jazz allowed their medic to take a scan of the mech, aware that should there be a need of repairs, the Decepticons around them would immediately move in to prevent them. "What sort of trouble did you manage to put yourself into, Prime?" he inquired with bitterness, evaluating their position, possible casualties, and necessary sacrifices to get them out of this mess without their leader, should they already be too late.
"... wait, Jazz… he's not… actually dying," Ratchet's words were clearly heard across the area, cutting through the laughter of their enemies like a knife.
Megatron turned slowly back towards them, optics bright with rage, just as the black and white mech managed to mutter out "... what?" in his honest surprise.
"What?!"
The silver mech's growl was filled with so much anger, if he managed to weaponize it, he could have wielded it and slayed them all by a dozen.
"He's just processing a lot of energon, it's making him drowsy - give it a few hours and he will be good as new," the medic explained, patting the red shoulder reassuringly. The process wouldn't be pleasant, but aside from some punishment from his body for being overtaxed like this, there was nothing else registering - no foreign substances, no suspicious reactions.
Only a ridiculous amount of energon.
"How could this be?!" Megatron snarled, tearing his way through the stunned, but relieved Autobots, grabbing Prime's shoulders, shaking him forcefully, causing the other to pant in pain. "Is it some dastardly Matrix-related influence that has saved you from the fates once again, you bag of bolts?!" the tyrant demanded, needing to know what had gone wrong this time; the cursed artifact held some power, but he didn't know its full extent.
He needed to know.
"Answer me, Prime!" he insisted again, grasping the blue helm again, forcing the Bot to look at him, searching his face for hints for the reason of his failure.
"I don't think so, Megatron," Optimus huffed, pulling himself up; his own servos fell on top of those around his face to try to pry them away, unsuccessfully. "But whoever made this was a genius and a sadist - it was so good… but there was so much…" he added with wonder, letting some of the stress fall away, replacing it with tired honesty.
The Decepticon commander roared, letting go of the helm as he drew himself up, servos shaking with humiliation. "I didn't spend the last few days making this from scratch for you not to die now, you slagger!" he lashed out, spitting the words out like venom; there was so much personal effort put into this, so many attempts before he managed to replicate the combination of textures - to know that he managed to make something that pleased his nemesis was a damn disgrace .
The Prime forced himself to remain vaguely upright, sitting with a happy smile on his face. "But our deal was fulfilled - I'm still alive. Let us go, Megatron," he mentioned, recalling the deal that happened before he became more cake than Cybertronian.
Baring his denta, his engine running loud at the indignation he suffered, he turned to his Third. "Ugh… Soundwave, let them out," he ordered with a resigned drag of a servo across his faceplates. The blue mech listened without any comment beyond acknowledging the command; in a moment the cages were being opened, and weapons powered down.
"You got lucky this time around, Prime," Megatron vowed darkly, shifting himself to join the other Decepticons, ready to call in a retreat (again). He could already see the smirk on Starscream's face, and he knew he was in for a long, loud lecture about this entire fiasco.
"Well, if you ever make it again, I'll gladly have another piece- just maybe a bit smaller," the Autobot leader mentioned with humor, getting himself lifted up by the others, optics blinking out as his frame insisted he went into recharge to process the energon faster.
The comment made the silver mech spin on his pede, pointing at him accusingly, as he shouted back petulantly:
"I will not be making it for you again, Prime!"
Ignoring the sounds of mirth from the Bots, the warlord motioned for his forces to leave, as he prepared for liftoff on his own. "Maybe I made a mistake on the components…" he muttered quietly to himself, trying to quieten down the snarky remarks from the seeker by focusing on trying to figure out what was the major factor of not being successful yet again.
Humans wouldn't have called something "Death by Chocolate" if it didn't actually cause death, would they?