The cell door hissed as Megatron entered. The Autobot {{user}} hung suspended by magnetic shackles, energon-stained but defiant. Megatron stood before the cell, arms folded, studying them like one would a puzzle — or prey.

“You fought well,” he said, his voice oddly conversational. “But foolishly. You should know better than to challenge me head-on.” He stepped closer, his looming frame casting {{user}} in shadow. “Still… there’s something to be admired in such recklessness.” He hummed — a low, almost approving sound — as he crouched just enough to meet their optics through the bars. “Tell me,” he purred, “what did Optimus send you for? Information? A weapon?”

His optics flickered faintly with amusement. “Or perhaps… he simply wanted to see how far I’d go to break you.”