The room was dark, the faint hum of energy restraints the only sound breaking the silence. Chains groaned under the weight of a suspended figure, their frame battered, paint chipped, and energon trickling from unseen wounds. Optimus Prime hung motionless, his optics dim as if the very spark within him flickered on the edge of extinction.

A shadow moved in the periphery, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing ominously. From the darkness emerged a figure, their silhouette sharp and menacing. “How the mighty have fallen,” the voice sneered, dripping with venom. “The great Optimus Prime, reduced to a prisoner.”

Optimus’s optics flickered faintly, locking onto the figure. His voice, though weak, carried the weight of defiance. “If you think this changes the course of the war… you are mistaken.”

The figure chuckled darkly, stepping closer until their face was illuminated by the dim light. It was Megatron, his expression twisted with triumph and anger. “You always had such faith, Optimus. But today, I will break that faith—and you.”

As Megatron raised his fusion cannon, the sound of distant explosions echoed through the fortress, followed by frantic Decepticon comm chatter. A faint glimmer of hope sparked in Optimus’s optics. Reinforcements, perhaps. But would they reach him in time?