IMPROVE ME

"I've always been the hunter,
Not the other way,
Now why do I feel like the prey?"

⬵⤁

Jack was not prepared for the sight of the medic when Megatron walked through the doors to the prison cell.

Ratchet's body had essentially stayed where it had been left after the last round of torture, energon leaking from small cracks in his armor and protoform. His optics were closed, one of them potentially damaged by the jagged cut which ran from the corner of his helm, across the optic, and down to his chin piece. That had been welded closed neatly by Knock Out, but the scar would remain. The color of his armor had since dulled, subject to days of energon deprivation and torment, cuts and what looked suspiciously like burn marks dotting the armor. Jack realized the quality of the video he had been given was rather poor, considering it hid most of the marks made on the Autobot.

"Get up," Megatron spoke in his terrible language, quick and demanding. Predatory optics watched as Ratchet seemed to just obey subconsciously, his shifting armor revealing the crushed servo that had been tucked against his chest. It looked worse in person, the metal bent and twisted in all of the wrong directions.

The medic cracked open his optics, then closed them again, speaking in a slurred tone.

"What do you want, Megatron?"

"Only to reunite you with your pet."

His optics flew open again at that, a brief rush of energy crackling through his veins. Immediately he noticed the extended, almost invitatory servo, which possessed someone he had hoped to never see here again.

"Jack?" He rasped, his vocalizers straining from the abuse. "What are you doing here? What have you done to him?"

Megatron sneered, switching languages with unnerving ease. "He was willing to join you again, medic; which makes this next phase all the more easier."

"Phase?" Ratchet asked.

"A show of power, a show of restraint," Megatron listed to him, his pointed denta glimmering. "And then, a promise to return. Attack, withdraw, isolate."

The almost script-like reading sent shivers across Jack's body, a cold sweat breaking across his skin. Power, restraint, a promise.

Megatron tortured Ratchet right in front of him, then almost killed the human via dehydration before letting him go. The video given less than twenty-four hours ago was not necessarily to torment him with guilt; it was a promise that Megatron knew exactly where he was. A promise he would find him again eventually.

He attacked Ratchet. He withdrew from Jack. And now, he would isolate them completely from their friends.

"Let him go, Megatron! You already have what you want!" Ratchet howled, gripping his damaged servo close as he glared at the tyrant. "He's just a human!"

"A human you so carelessly introduced into our war," Megatron answered, gazing down at Jack impassively. The human squeaked in terror as a claw shifted and touched him with insane gentleness, the sharp tip threatening to break open his delicate skin. "I have yet to obtain what I want, Ratchet, but that will come in due time."

With little ceremony his servo tilted as he bent forward, Jack tumbling to the ground and rolling to a stop. He propped himself up on his elbows and glared up at the silver titan, who still only looked at him for a brief period of time before turning his back to the prisoners.

"I will leave you to become reacquainted. There is another urgent matter I must attend to."

Jack struggled to his feet, his entire body quivering from anxiety and fear. He glared when the doors closed behind the tyrant, shifting his gaze over to Ratchet when the medic stirred. If the medic noticed his hands shaking, he did not mention it.

"Why did you come?" He rasped, his optic indeed damaged with a hairline crack across its glass. "What happened, Jack?"

The human looked up at him, still feeling the guilt which plagued him for the last week.

"I couldn't just leave you here, Ratchet," he said truthfully. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not."

"You escaped," Ratchet completely ignored Jack's attempt at chivalry, his voice rising slightly with every word. "You were free, you fool! Now all you have done is given Megatron another bit of leverage -"

"I was never free!" Jack retorted, insulted. "He came into my house, gave me a video showing just how much he was hurting you! How do you think he got in? It certainly wasn't because he asked nicely. He knew where I lived."

The human took a breath, his Autobot companion looking at him with a stunned expression. Realizing his mistake Ratchet softened, keeping his servo tucked close as he shifted and relaxed a little more.

"How did he get in?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

Jack closed his eyes, feeling his hands curl into fists again. "He . . he shrunk somehow." He replied, feeling his gut twist in discomfort as he relived the incident. "He was small, enough so that he could fit in my room. And after he left I watched the video he gave me . . ."

Shaking his head Jack forced his face into his hands, suppressing the sob that build up in his throat.

"I didn't want you to be alone," he said, finally finding the words he wanted. "We were captured together, we promised to keep one another sane. I couldn't just abandon you, even if it meant keeping me safe. We don't leave anyone behind."

"He will only hurt you as well."

"Then so be it," Jack gazed up at him, newfound fire in his eyes. "You're not alone, Ratchet. And I won't let you be."

He half expected the prideful medic to dismiss him, but instead he earned a rare, almost never seen smile. It was gentle and reflective, a quiet chuckle escaping his companion.

"You remind me more and more of Orion Pax, every day," Ratchet complimented him. The Autobot moved to a more comfortable position and extended his one working servo, inviting Jack to climb on. The human obliged, settling in his palm.

"You've been gone for days, according to my internal chronometer." Ratchet looked at him. "What has happened since then? How were you captured?"

Jack looked at him, unsure if Ratchet was prepared to hear the answers. Admitting to Smokescreen's presence could potentially "confirm" everything Megatron said, or at least what Jack heard during the video. But lying to him was an equally terrible idea. Thus, taking a deep breath, Jack told him everything. The hospital, the quiet week where he couldn't think straight, when Smokescreen arrived, Bulkhead's recovery, and the latest incident with the relic. He stopped, his words twisting and lodging in his throat for a long time.

"Megatron found this . . . thing," he said. "A sword. Optimus was able to get it but . . . Megatron captured Arcee and threatened to kill her if he didn't get the relic. Me too."

Ratchet went very still. "A sword?" He asked carefully, his optics spinning as they reacted to his surprise, and horror.

"Smokescreen called it -"

"-the Star Saber," Ratchet said it with him, looking incredibly disturbed. "It is a weapon of incredible power . . . and he traded it to Megatron."

"For Arcee," Jack said defensively. "And me. But Megatron cheated. He used the blade to cut off Optimus' arm and took me -"

"He did what?!" Ratchet bellowed, the human in his palm flinching as the noise nearly blew out his eardrums. His palms slapped against the sides of his head and over his ears, the medic realizing his mistake and toning it down just a little. But his spark was racing a million miles a minute, his processor nearly on overdrive. "What happened to Optimus? Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Jack felt useless, suddenly wishing he was not here, delivering the bad news. "Megatron had taken us through the Groundbridge after that. I don't know what he plans to do with it, but Knock Out took it so it's possible he'll just throw it away . . ."

Ratchet shook his helm, the medic bitter. "No. The Star Saber requires the touch of a Prime to activate. If Megatron can somehow fool the Saber to respond to him . . . he could win battles effortlessly."

"But wouldn't he need the Matrix of Leadership for that?" Jack pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Ratchet looked thoughtful. "It stands to reason that the Star Saber most likely recognizes Optimus now. So if that barbarian has a part of Optimus . . . he could use it."

Jack processed what he was told, unable to stand any longer and sitting down in Ratchet's palm. Somehow he had single-handedly gotten Ratchet captured, Arcee nearly killed, Optimus amputated, and now, because of him and all of his mistakes, Megatron had a weapon that could murder hundreds with a single swipe of his servo. All he needed to do was figure out how to bypass the Prime requirement.

Jack shuddered again, feeling tears prick in his eyes. This is my fault.

Ratchet sat against the wall, taking a deep breath. "I just hope Optimus made it," he murmured. "But he has survived worse; much worse, even without the assistance of a medic."

"It looked pretty bad," Jack almost immediately wanted to shut up, realizing what he had said without even thinking. Quickly, he tried to backpedal. "I-I was just wondering . . . how? I mean, I don't doubt what you say, but he lost a lot of energon and I know that can be detrimental . . ."

"Optimus possesses a Point-One Percenter spark," Ratchet told him, cutting him off before he could make it worse. "It is a rarity that is forged once out of every thousand sparks. And even fewer than that survive. Scientists believed they were a step forward in our species' evolution, due to these sparks possessing a greater capacity for intelligence, strength, and other things." His optics drifted toward the door. "Megatron also possesses a Point-One Percenter, which grants him abilities far exceeding that of a regular Cybertronian." His voice became bitter. "And it is how he is able to reduce his size. I knew he had such an ability, but I did not think he would use it in such a manner."

"I don't think much can surprise us as this point," Jack replied, pulling his knees to his chest. "Is the Point-One Percenter why Optimus and Megatron are so evenly matched?"

He earned a nod from Ratchet. "I can only hope that is what saves him," the medic said forlornly. "We cannot lose Optimus. If we do . . ."

"They won't," Jack said firmly. "Like you said, Optimus has survived worse. He'll be okay."

Ratchet parted his lip plates but did not utter the words that came to mind, instead restraining himself. He did not want to chide Jack about his naivety despite that being the first thing that came to mind. Finally, he sighed, tired optics refocusing on Jack. The human could see just how far he had fallen, just how hopeless everything seemed. His heart twisted, hoping that his arrival here had not been too late.

"I pray that is the case," Ratchet finally said, his voice soft and small.

⬵⤁

Getting Prime stabilized had taken a team of thirty men, twelve welders and solders, and four medical personnel to treat the energon leaks that got on the men before they could induce a chemical burn or some other kind of alien reaction. Arcee had been taken care of by her team, the motorcycle only suffering from mild cranial damage and protoform contusions. In total, the whole operation took fourteen hours.

They were running severely behind schedule.

Miko and Rafael had arrived approximately six hours ago with their guardians only to learn that Jack had been recaptured, Megatron now possessed a weapon of mass destruction, and Optimus, by some miracle, had not died, but he now possessed a traumatic injury that could never fully heal. Maybe if Ratchet had been around . . . but he wasn't.

Agent Fowler looked down towards the warrior from his perch on the catwalk above, taking in his new form. A physical therapist had been contacted to give Prime a treatment plan, the Autobot more than likely going to suffer from balance issues for a while. The Star Saber - Megatron - had cleaved off almost the entirety of his shoulder, exposing the rotary cuff and portions of his chest cavity to the elements. Main energon lines had been severed, but already Prime's nanites had begun sealing up the damage, working at a pace that saved his life and gave the boys enough time to patch up the protoform and cauterize the exposed ends. With some instruction taken from Ratchet's data files they were able to insert a rudimentary IV and get energon flow going, refueling his lines directly. According to Smokescreen's translation, this was risky business due to the energon bypassing the final stages of refinement, which would have happened in Optimus' gut, but it was a temporary solution that worked. And it was all they could ask for.

Right now Optimus was resting, taking a much needed power-down in order to rest his systems and allow his immune system - or the equivalent of it - do its job. Arcee was also still unconscious, but stable.

That left the Special Agent to worry about the boy. He had no idea what he was going to tell June; first her son skipped school, then he went on a mission he should not have been a part of, and was once again kidnapped by Megatron. Jack was lucky the first time that the Decepticons somehow understood he was dying. But now they knew their limits, and he could only imagine what was happening up there.

Fowler could worry about the liabilities and the risk to his employment all he wanted, but at the end of the day that was not what was on his mind: the kids had grown on him. Jack was a good man, level-headed and determined. He would have been a good fit for military. Shoot, the other kids would have as well. Miko probably would struggle with chain of command, but she was dedicated and ready for the risk. Raf was smart, he would do well on the tech side. They reminded him of why he chose to serve the country, what motivated him to lay down his life again and again if it meant keeping the planet safe.

So he worried, immensely, for the safety of Jack. They were tangling with entities far stronger and smarter than themselves; the advancement of their technology and the fact they were made of metal was indicative of that. And to be thrown into a prison cell with an Autobot, clearly possessing information the Decepticons wanted, was bound for failure.

Megatron had sent exactly one video, but it was enough to show them he meant business. Ratchet was screaming. Fowler had never heard him scream before. In terror, a few times, and he was no stranger to the medic raising his voice. But this was from pain, and due to Ratchet never being on the front lines, he was a stranger to it. At the very least, Fowler was a stranger to Ratchet enduring it. And he had said something, or Megatron did, that made Optimus Prime storm out of the base in rage.

They were dealing with macabre torture, something he had only seen in training videos. Even as an Army Ranger he had been fortunate enough to not encounter an interrogation situation that was outside of his training. It was nothing like how they prepared him.

"Sir," a soldier pulled him from his reverie. "Everything that is medically unnecessary is ready for transport. Shall we begin moving?"

"Yeah. But keep it quiet. Prime and Arcee need all the rest they can get," he instructed him, returning his gaze to the slumbering giant. "We'll move them last."

"Yes, sir."

Once he was left alone the Agent sighed, resting his forehead against his hand.

"We're going to need a miracle, Prime," he murmured. "And a big one."