SERVE ME

"Brainwash, brainwash,
B-b-b-brainwash, brainwash."

⬵⤁

 Ratchet came to slowly, the first thing he could feel were his aching arms. Groaning softly he opened his optics, sensing a tingling across his entire frame. Everything from before was fuzzy, though he recalled bits and pieces of what happened.

The acidic taste of the dark energon across his glossa, Megatron's laughter, and Knock Out's grip on his chin was all he could remember. But judging by the way his body felt, he had drank a substantial amount of dark energon. Much to his moral disgust it felt good, as if he had become a few million years younger.

Shaking his helm he tried to refocus, ignoring the insidiously pleasant feeling in his chest. The second thing he noticed was the fact that he was no longer chained to the ceiling, instead left to lay in the corner of the cell and await the next phase of Megatron's insane plan. Moving to get up he paused, thinking something was wrong. After taking a moment to listen, it hit him that his audio receptors were picking up only silence.

"Jack," He gasped in realization, turning his helm to look for the boy. His optics contracted in shock when he saw the human curled into a ball, back to the metal being. Dried blood streaked the wall, and more brown spots dotted the ground around him. "Jack!"

Quickly moving to his charge, the medic gently knelt down, his extended servos hesitating. He did not want to hurt the boy if he was truly injured, however his urgency almost overrode any sort of precaution. He reached out again, his processor nearly stalling when he realized what he was doing.

His servos, both of them, were fully functional. The one that had been crushed and mutilated was now healed, not a nick to be seen to indicate he had suffered any injury at all. It took a long time for him to reach a conclusion: the dark energon he had consumed had mended its new host.

Recovering from his shock he very gently touched Jack's back, running a sensitive digit along it and taking in as much information as he could. Data popped up in his line of vision, his medical protocols unable to pick up any abnormalities as the sensors on the tip of his digit read Jack's electrical signals from his spine.

The action resulted in a shudder from his charge, a moan of pain escaping Jack. He shifted away from the digit, both relief and annoyance washing across Ratchet's spark.

"Jack, it's me," he said softly, lightly touching him again. This prompted Jack to move a second time, shifting and sitting up from his initial position. When he turned his head to look over his shoulder Ratchet immediately saw the wounds on his face, the scratches erythemic but not concerningly so - they were irritated, not infected.

The boy did not react how he expected, jerking backwards with a yelp, scrambling towards the wall and staring up at the medic with a terrified expression. He was still turned away from him, just moving to get away.

"Easy, easy," he said, holding his servos up in the universal "surrender" position. "Jack, you seem to have suffered some cranial trauma. Are you aware of who you are?"

"Ratchet," not an answer, but a fair enough response, "are you . . . is that you?"

The medic was briefly confused as to why he would ask such a question. "Can you see?"

Jack looked equally bewildered. "I can . . . and I can see your optics. They're purple."

An alarmed servo shot up to his face, Ratchet realizing what would have made Jack so afraid. Looking up, he was able to see a distortion of his reflection on the cell wall - the typical orange and white was comforting, but the eerie purple glow ruined the relief in his systems. He truly was infected.

"I am still me," he said with conviction, gazing back down at his charge. "For now. But Jack . . . if I begin acting strange for any reason, stay out of my way. I don't want to hurt you."

"I was planning on it," Jack noted cynically, taking a breath as he touched his cheek. But it was not the one with the scratches, which Ratchet found odd. He watched the human turn to fully face him, seeing the other side of Jack's face was horrendously bruised.

"Jack, what happened?" He asked incredulously, his optics shifting as they focused on his injuries. They were consistent with blunt-force trauma, the cuts on his face looking worse due to the amount of dried blood around them.

A bitter smile curled around Jack's face. "I tried picking a fight with mini-Megatron," he said, ignoring Ratchet's surprise. "Obviously he won."

The medic growled softly, his digits curling into a fist. "He made the deal that he would not hurt you if I took the dark energon."

"Well, I attacked him first," Jack stood on his feet with a flinch, holding his head as the world spun a little. "So . . . he can pull the self-defense card."

The medic paused, making a displeasured noise before his fist relaxed again. Instead he gently picked Jack up and brought him closer, beginning to assess his injuries.

"You are fighting off infection well," he noted, "but given that it has been less than three hours since my last known wake time, I suspect it will be a while before we can confirm your immune system is fully functional. But this . . ."

He gently tilted Jack's face to the side, looking intently at his damaged ocular. The medic could see the red which burst from the corner of his eye and collected around his iris, the red and blue clashing in contrast to one another. It looked nasty.

"You could have acute angle closure if we do not monitor this properly."

"I'm sorry, acute what?"

"You may also use the term 'acute glaucoma,' however medically speaking 'acute angle closure glaucoma' is most accurate," Ratchet described. "It is when the pressure inside your eye skyrockets. Symptoms usually include intense eye pain and migraine-like headaches."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize Cybertronians had something so similar. I figured you didn't have the same eye structures we did."

"We don't," the medic confessed, almost looking embarrassed. "I have been researching human ailments and downloading a plethora of symptom guides. After Rafael . . . after his incident, I thought it best to research as much about human anatomy, physiology, and medicine that I could."

The boy could easily recall Ratchet's frustration when Rafael had fallen ill to dark energon poisoning. The medic cursed himself for not knowing how to match a diagnoses to the human's symptoms, failing to study human medicine even after knowing the kids were going to be a permanent establishment - and liability - to the Autobot cause. Now it seemed he was putting such knowledge to extremely good use.

He looked up, his gut still twisting as he gazed into Ratchet's violet optics.

"Thank you," he said, lightly touching the lacerations next. They were going to leave a mark. "Let's hope I don't end up in a hospital again. Though given the Decepticon's fantastic healthcare, I'm sure I'll be in tip-top shape in no time."

Ratchet seemed less than amused by the sarcasm.

"I will see if we can obtain some basic first aid supplies," he told the human. "Enough to fight off infection and potentially bandage up any other injuries you may obtain." His voice hardened into steel. "But Megatron has raised the stakes. If he is able to conserve his energon reserves and utilize his mass-displacement on more extreme levels more frequently, you are placed at much more risk, Jack. I can't have you evoke his wrath again."

"Why did he only start shrinking now?" He asked. "Why waste all this time beating you up when he could just as easily done the same to me?"

Ratchet grimaced, not fond of being reminded of his previous torture sessions. "Most likely because he was out of practice. Another reason may be that he is simply a sadist who wished to see what information he could extract from me before moving to more . . . extreme methods."

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you think he is getting desperate?"

"I do not know," Ratchet set the human back down on the ground. He was otherwise fine and cognitively normal, so he tried not to worry too much about the injuries Jack sustained. "Judging by the massive victories he has scored against the Autobots, I don't think so."

That, in turn, made Jack cringe. It was a painful reminder that Optimus was incapacitated because of him, and the Decepticons had the Star Saber. And now Ratchet was infected with Dark Energon, which left him at the mercy of Unicron and whatever Megatron wished to do now that he could control the deity's lifeblood in Ratchet's veins.

Though that made him wonder . . .

"Ratchet, if Megatron is able to control the dead using Dark Energon, do you think, maybe, you could try to control him?"

The medic looked at him with a bewildered expression, as if Jack had suggested he give the warlord a back rub. His expression then turned thoughtful, the medic tilting his head as he considered the suggestion.

"Perhaps . . . but I merely ingested the Dark Energon. Megatron has the substance directly inserted into his spark, which allows him to possess faster healing capabilities and immense strength." He gazed down at his chest plates, realizing that the scratches which Knock Out had welded together were gone, with a start also coming to the conclusion that his shoulders were completely healed as well. He not only felt better, he was better.

"It looks like you got some of those abilities too," Jack said what he was thinking aloud. "Maybe it's not so far-fetched."

"A reasonable assumption," Ratchet seemed apprehensive. "Yet we will have to see."

He did not like the idea of Megatron getting in his head again, but this time with the intent to control his every move. In a sick way he was connected to the dictator, now subject to his whims. It would be a battle of the minds, and despite Ratchet's durable mentality he had to admit he was at a disadvantage. Megatron had more experience in extending his consciousness to control the minds - or he supposed mindlessness - of others. Taking a breath he looked over at Jack again, who had settled into a sitting position and gone quiet. Silently he vowed he would never hurt Jack, no matter how hard Megatron tried. He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to him.

⬵⤁

"Y'know, if we just had the Forge, we could build Optimus a new arm. How awesome would that be?!"

"What are you going to do, just ask politely if we can have it?" Arcee snapped at Smokescreen, far from a good mood. It had been days, and they had heard nothing from the Decepticon leader. The two-wheeler had yet to stop mentally beating herself for not protecting her charge, unable to take back the stupid decision she had made to use the fragile organic trees to her advantage. She should have known better, it was a rookie's mistake.

And Smokescreen still would not drop the subject of Jack's capture and Optimus' loss, verbally coming up with alternate ways he could have helped if only he had done this or that. It took all of her willpower to not sucker-punch him in the face.

For now, the rookie seemed to get the hint. His doorwings drooped and his excitement faded a little, his expression becoming slightly thoughtful. Arcee took the pause to turn away from him, signaling she was done with the conversation.

Optimus stood at the computers, pretending to ignore what Smokescreen had said as he focused on the scrawl of Cybertronian in front of him. Wheeljack and Rafael had come up with the clever plan to download the entirety of the Iacon file from the Nemesis using Laserbeak. It had come with the cost of losing the relic to Soundwave, and things were slow with Rafael needing to work with the less-than-technologically savvy Wheeljack. But they created something that would have made even Ratchet proud.

Even still the Prime was at a disadvantage. He only had one arm to type, and Soundwave was made of compatible technology. The Decepticon also had the best of Cybertronian technology at his digit tips, yet Optimus was more determined than ever. He would not make any excuses for falling short, not even with his obvious disability.

Agent Fowler leaned against the railing of the new catwalk, the man constantly checking his phone for any updates. Miko had been the loudest protestor of all when she learned that the Autobots would not be able to pick up their charges as frequently as they used to. She barely listened to the logical argument that it was because their base was no longer located in Jasper, Nevada, and therefore it would be inconvenient for their guardians to pick them up every day. Rafael was more understanding, the boy realizing that their hunt for the relics meant the Autobots were going to be much busier. June was distraught enough that her child was missing, and none of the Autobots wanted her nervous energy in the base, least of all Arcee. That left Agent Fowler the only human that was with the Autobots.

He was looking at his phone every other minute, praying that Jack's identity would pop-up again. This was an intense security threat that could effectively shut down the Autobot's mission here on Earth if they were not careful, and for it to happen twice was putting Agent Fowler's job on the line. If the government realized that the Decepticons were taking human prisoners, they may try to ban the Autobots from Earth altogether. That would not help, of course, because the Decepticons would just conquer Earth with more ease.

Additionally, it had been more than three days since Jack's re-capture and the loss of the Star Saber. If Megatron was consistent - and he wanted the boy alive - surely they would have had to rehospitalize Jack by now. The Nemesis had no way of taking care of a human's needs, and with each passing hour the Agent was becoming more worried that perhaps Jack had not survived. That Megatron had actually killed him.

The silence lasted for only a few Earth minutes before an alarm pinged on one of the computers, breaking Optimus' concentration. It was a message, personally sent from Megatron himself.

"Your lapdog belongs to me now."

A startled shudder ran through the Prime's frame, Agent Fowler astute enough to realize that there was something about the message that made Optimus uncomfortable. Arcee and the other Autobots turned toward the source as well, their optics scanning the message, attempting to read it from behind their leader.

Before anyone could say something, or before Agent Fowler could inquire as to what the message actually said, a video popped up.

Visualizing Ratchet's state was even more painful than just listening to his tortured screams, Optimus unable to help but take a step back. His optics trailed from the medic's scratched face to his damaged shoulder pads, down his scarred chest and to his servo. It was crushed.

To take away a medic's hands was to take away their healing capabilities and skills. Optimus could barely imagine what Ratchet was feeling now, well aware that out of most medics, he had the most pride in his healing servos. He knew it was killing the medibot to be separated from his team, especially with the knowledge that they could suffer injuries without him. He wondered if Ratchet was aware of what they had endured, though he quietly hoped that was not the case. The last thing Ratchet needed was a heavy weight on his spark.

"You understand the price you pay for refusing energon, yes?"

Optimus stiffened, realizing quite quickly that Megatron was preparing to inflict more pain and torment on their medic. He was not necessarily surprised, but the initial message had left him guessing. His spark sunk in his chassis. Would Ratchet finally be broken?

His hypothesis was initially disproven when Ratchet resisted, the medic doing so even when Megatron seemed to threaten Jack's life. Of course, Megatron surely could not be foolish enough to think he could coax Jack to drink the substance; they all knew the radiation from the substance had a high chance of killing him-

"No!" Arcee surged forward when Megatron shrunk, her servos gripping the edge of the keyboard. Even Agent Fowler jerked upright, his jaw dropping.

"The leader of the Decepticons can come in Happy Meal size?" He asked, absolutely bewildered.

His question went unanswered as Soundwave continued recording, Megatron's servo lashing out and digits wrapping around Jack's neck. He was no longer recognizing any boundaries between humans and Cybertronians, engaging Jack directly. Optimus resisted the battle protocols which threatened to online, Arcee herself raging beside him. Her EM field sparked and prickled with anger, the femme wanting to reach through the screen and strangle Megatron herself.

Ratchet was quick to accept the proposal as Jack flailed in Megatron's grip, the warlord almost seeming to mock him.

"I knew you could be reasoned with."

And yet Megatron was not done.

Agent Fowler had to cover his ears as the Autobots roared in protest - save for Optimus, who stood there stoically - when Knock Out presented a cube of dark energon.

There was only mild protest from Ratchet, the medic allowing his Decepticon counterpart to tilt his chin back and pour the toxic substance down his intake. Megatron had since let Jack go, though Soundwave's attention was drawn away from Ratchet when the human screamed.

Arcee had to hand it to her partner. Despite being just a human, it seemed Jack had no qualms tussling with those bigger and badder than himself. She could not help but be proud of him for at least trying, even if his form was off and he was grappling with a being that had millions of years more experience than him.

And Jack was almost more successful than even the most trained Cybertronian assassins. His fingers curled around Megatron's chin, red blood streaking down the tyrant as his sharp points cut the human's delicate skin. Half an inch further down and Jack could have grabbed a major energon or neural cable.

Megatron reacted quickly, the fight over in less than five seconds as he threw Jack over his shoulder and to the ground. Arcee hissed in anger, unable to watch as her charge received punishment for his attack. Anger boiled her energon, and she vowed to make sure that Megatron would not walk away from their next encounter.

Ratchet had finished the energon cube and was unresponsive, Soundwave having missed what had happened there. Megatron must have been satisfied regardless, because he returned to his full size effortlessly. Though Optimus noticed the subtle toll it had on him, watching Megatron shift his balance and his optics take a few seconds longer than normal to focus. They were still a vibrant purple, the dark energon in Ratchet's systems able to have a similar effect as the raw presence of the substance.

"What was that?" Agent Fowler demanded as the video ended with Megatron ordering Ratchet to be lowered and allowed to rest. "First, Megatron can make himself human sized, and now he's infected Ratchet with dark energon?!"

Optimus took longer than normal to answer, turning to his stunned soldiers.

"Yes, Agent Fowler," as if he knew what the next question on Fowler's tongue would be, he continued, "Megatron has some enhanced abilities due to the nature of his spark, one of them being intense mass displacement. It is what allows us to take on slightly smaller alternate modes, however there are physical restrictions. Megatron was gifted with much more lenient limitations."

"Yeah, that's how he turned himself into a gun during the first few years of the war," Smokescreen supplied. "He could fit into the palm of a 'con's hand and provide amazing accuracy."

"A gun?" Agent Fowler raised an eyebrow.

"It's a long story, and a long story that doesn't matter," Arcee snapped. "He's hurting Jack, and now we've got an infected Ratchet to deal with! Who knows what will happen to them now?"

"Arcee -"

"No. I'm done sitting around!" She snapped. "We have the Apex armor thanks to Starscsream, and the Phase Shifter. I say we use it! We storm the Nemesis and get back our friends!"

"But that's only two relics, and there's four of us. Five including Optimus," Bulkhead pointed out. "And Megatron has the Star Saber and the Forge of Solus Prime!"

"Which he can't use because he isn't a Prime," Arcee argued, gesturing wildly with her arms. "All we're doing is scouting for energon, and Optimus is looking for more relics! We are doing nothing for Jack, or Ratchet, when they would do something for us!"

"I understand your frustration," Optimus told her, and the femme had to pause. He sounded sad. "But we cannot begin to rescue our friends if we are at a disadvantage. It is paramount we keep the relics that we have out of Decepticon hands, and prevent them from acquiring any more. I have not forgotten about Ratchet, or Jack, but we must gain as much of an advantage as we can. They would understand."

Arcee was still angry, even with her leader's logic. Yes, Optimus was right: they could not even begin to make a rescue if they were at a disadvantage. Yet it felt as if they were not even trying.

Even when she did try, she failed. Megatron had easily beaten her and allowed her to live, if only so he could trick Optimus into giving him the Star Saber and keep Jack for himself.

She was still livid with Smokescreen for convincing Jack to leave the base, and the rookie had received an earful from her once she had recovered. But even she knew that yelling at him was not going to bring her partner back.

It brought none of them back.

"I'm going to scout," she said, punching in coordinates and activating the Groundbridge. Without another word she transformed and sped off, Sadie materializing in her saddle. No one tried to call her back, letting the two-wheeler go off on her own.

Optimus allowed her to go, turning back to the message on the computers.

Mine.

As if Ratchet was an object that was meant to be owned.

Optimus felt his digits curl into a fist, but he forced himself to relax. Megatron would not twist the medic into thinking he could be possessed. The Prime would not allow it.