"Have you considered the dangers?" The question came in a nervous voice. "Do you really trust me to be operating in your headquarters, free of restraints, and handling your technology?"

Silas regarded Ratchet's hesitation with an irritated look. "No, Autobot, I do not trust you. Precautions will be taken, I can assure you. You will make no moves to escape, and you will obey every order. We will make sure of that." He crossed his arms. "Now make your decision. It will not be on the table for long; I don't leave room for reluctance."

There's something he has planned.

He's too confident that hell keep me in line to not have something prepared for this procedure.

But what does he have that's going to prevent my defiance?

Ratchet narrowed his optics skeptically, hesitant. Did he want to find out what lied ahead for him, if he took the offer? Or did he want to starve?

That was a tough one.

"Now, Autobot."

"I have a name!" The medic snapped sharply, shooting him a fierce glare. "I'm deciding if I want to die by starvation or whatever the frag you have planned for me."

Silas tensed a little, visibly angered. "Decide. Now."

He had no time.

This was it.

He huffed. "Very well, Silas. I will build you a groundbridge... if you provide me with processed energon."

This didn't feel right.

Here he was, supplying the enemy with valuable technology.

He had to find a way to sabotage the operation... Stall, supply them with a dysfunctional groundbridge. Better, build a groundbridge that doesn't transport, but rather has energy levels too high, and terminates any beings inside of it. That would create a diversion, during which he could escape... He couldn't make that bet without knowing what Silas had set up for him first, however. He'd have to wait and see.

"Very good... Ratchet."

Look at that, you used my actual name. What an intelligent life form.

Ratchet vented. "Can I have energon now?" He muttered.

"We have to take our... Precautions... first." Silas smirked a little, appearing pleased with himself. Ratchet didn't like the look of that.

"And what precautions will be taken?"

He didn't receive an answer.

Silas turned and disappeared through the door, leaving Ratchet with a frustrated and puzzled expression.

Frag.

What have I gotten myself into?

He sighed, twisting his wrists in the restraints a little. They ached... Getting out of the bindings would be a relief. Getting out of this entire ordeal would be a relief. Whenever that happened...

If, that ever happened.

The door opened again, Silas only being gone for a brief moment. He strode back over, smirking pleasantly. "Let's get started. Construction needs to go as quick as possible." He announced to a band of soldiers that followed through the door, close on his heels. "We must make haste of this opportunity."

"Yes sir." One of them nodded and stepped to the front of the pack. "You know what to do. Work briskly!" He commanded. The handful of soldiers scattered, most of them moving out of Ratchet's view.

"What is this?" The medic asked quietly, turning his helm to look at Silas.

"Our precautions." The man replied flatly, leaving Ratchet unsatisfied.

He squirmed at the sound of soldiers moving around his helm. "Which are?"

Silas ignored him, watching his scientists work. Ratchet grumbled.

"Alright, Autobot." One soldier spoke up, on the other side of him. He looked over. "The first chip is going in your spark."

What the frag?

"What?" Ratchet questioned nervously.

"We are putting a chip in your spark, wirelessly connected to several other devices. Sir, do you have yours?" The solider began, looking over at his superior. Silas pulled his sleeve up to show a wristband with a red button on it. "Several of our soldiers will have these, those of us who are monitoring you in shifts while you are working. See that button?" He leaned forward a little. "We press that, and the chip will give off strong levels of electricity and energy. Fatal levels of electricity. This is how you'll be kept in line. You act up, you fry. Understood?"

Frag.

Frag, frag, frag.

"The chip in your spark won't be the only precaution. We will have two ways to eliminate you in the event you have a problem." The soldier turned to a few of his comrades. "But first, the chip."

Ratchet squirmed a little as they carried it over, the chip in between two men. They hoisted it up, and climbed onto his frame.

It's a shame his sparkchamber was clamped open.

He silently tried to close it, but the clamps they had applied were fastened tight.

Ooooh, scrap.

They lowered the chip into his sparkchamber, and a few of them began working to lodge it in. He fidgeted, squirmed, shivered... It was an uncomfortable little thing.

Several minutes passed, before the soldiers climbed out of his open chamber and off of him. A couple of them immediately went to releasing the clamps. Ratchet stilled for that, relief hitting him hard as he closed his sparkchamber for the first time in days. He felt so much more secure...

"Alright, Ratchet. Here's precaution number two." Silas spoke up. The medic sent him an irritated look. He lifted his wrist and placed a finger over the button. "Your restraints are going to be unlocked. You will not try anything, or I'll cook your spark, understood?"

"Very well." Ratchet muttered with a sigh.

Primus, it felt good to have the restraints disappear. He have a soft vent of relief, moving his ankles a bit.

"I'm sitting up," he mumbled to Silas, waiting until the irritable little man nodded before sitting up and stretching. "Primus..."

"Our second precaution is this shock collar. It produces more electricity than the chip, since it's not hooked up to your spark. Being zapped by it will cause a much slower, and much more painful death." The soldier briefed, pointing to a Cybertronian sized collar-ish device, not too far from where they were.

Ratchet scoffed. "I'm not wearing that. Having a chip in my spark is more than enough."

"Ratchet." Silas' voice was firm and threatening. His finger still lingered over the button. "Put it on."

"You can't be serious." The medic huffed, glaring at him. "Am I expected to accept treats, and do petty tricks on a leash as well!?"

The glare Silas held shut him up immediately, the dark, cold eyes locked onto him furiously. Ratchet watched him for a moment before sighing heavily. "Fine." He muttered. "Let me stand up to get it."

"Get to it."

Fragger.

Ratchet slowly stood, wincing and shaking a bit. His legs ached, having not been used in so long. Primus, this would be hard. He shakily took a few steps, until he stood over the blasted device. It took a lot of effort to bend over and pick it up, his legs begging to give out.

"You are taking longer than I'd like." Silas called firmly.

The medic didn't answer, gritting his denta. With a moment more of hesitation, he clipped it onto his neck, it beeping loudly once hooked on.

Frag, it was uncomfortable.

It scraped against his neck cabling so roughly...

Ugh.

He growled, shifting it around a bit.

"Stop messing with it."

Burn in the Pits.

"Now come along, Ratchet. You have a lot of work to do."