Live to Tell

[Ratchet]

Characters: Ratchet , @tarn
Location: The Brig of the Nemesis
Content Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, potential violence, potential injuries, use of Tarn's voice ability
Plot Summary: Trapped on board the Nemesis, the leader of the DJD pays Ratchet a visit. The medic may not know him outside of the tales told, but Tarn remembers Ratchet all too well. What could possibly come of this?

[Ratchet]

Ratchet stared into the darkness of the holding cell the Decepticons had been keeping him in.  He honestly couldn't remember how long he'd been there for, but Primus knew he was going to find a way out.  If he didn't, he knew someone would eventually come for him.  Optimus had to have been looking for him, and Wheeljack..  Part of him would be so angry if Wheeljack were looking for him too.  He was carrying for Primus sake!  He didn't need all of this stress, wondering if his Conjunx was alright..  What the Wrecker needed was to stay calm, and let the others handle everything.

Somehow.. the medic didn't believe he would for a second.

There was nowhere for him to go; Nowhere to hide.  The door that lie before him had been locked, and there was no doubt Vehicon guards on the other side if he somehow managed to get the door open.  However, one other factor prevented him from getting to previously mentioned locked door, and that was the stasis cuffs keeping his arms behind his back.  Even still, a single tether linked the stasis cuffs to the floor, keeping Ratchet not only on his knees but trapped in the middle of the room.

He had no means of defending himself, and that's exactly how Megatron had wanted it.  He wanted the medic alive, and he was going to make extra certain he wouldn't be escaping anytime soon.

The medic tugged futiley, attempting to get free but to no avail.  It was only a matter of time before someone came for him, and he could only hope it was someone that wanted to get him out of this mess.

[Deleted]

Gently. Almost imperceptibly, the faint sound of music wafted into the brig and even more faintly into each of the holding cells. The almost peaceful lilting of it, however, was accompanied by heavy footsteps, which reverberated more clearly beyond the doors of the holding cells. And, as the footsteps drew nearer to one particular door, the melody became increasingly apparent.

The Empyrean Suite.

The footsteps came to a halt, of course, outside of the door that held their newest “guest”. Smaller, lighter shuffling was heard. Vehicon’s hasty and sharp salutes. A moment later, the door hissed open, panels abruptly retracting to reveal the Autobot medic’s visitor. An old friend.

Tarn.

Gleaming red optics glinted behind the mask as they fell upon Ratchet. Tarn strode in, arms neatly folded behind his back, with an elegance and grace that masked the perturbation that he felt. The door hissed shut behind him as he approached Ratchet, circling the medic slightly and scrutinizing him as if he were a particularly fascinating piece of scrap.

After he had completed one circuit around the captive, Tarn approached and knelt down so that he might look on optic level with the medic.

“Ratchet,” Tarn began, reaching out to the medic, not quite sure how to begin. He supposed he ought to just say it, “This is rather vexing as…I could have sworn that I killed you the last time we met.”

He leaned forward to examine the Autobot medic, trying to ascertain the reality of the situation. Perhaps a lookalike then? No…Maybe his memory was failing him, or maybe that after he’d seen Drift, he’d sort of lost his composure.

“But…” Tarn pulled away, standing again and stepping back, “I suppose that it is for the best that you still function. Megatron has a use for you. You may yet be of service to those you abandoned so long ago.”

[Ratchet]

Ratchet tugged once more at his bonds, lowering his helm as his efforts got him nowhere.  He knew deep down he wasn't strong enough to break out of the stasis cuffs, but it didn't stop him from trying.  For now he was stuck here, and he would just have to endure.  The medic closed his optics, thinking about the situation.  He still couldn't understand why Jazz had done this.  Why Jazz had kidnapped him and brought him to Megatron.  They were supposed to be friends, and now.. it was like Jazz had switched sides.

However, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of music coming from outside the cell.  It was faint, muffled by walls and door of the cell, but as it drew nearer there was no mistaking what it was.

The Empyrean Suite.. which could only mean one thing.  Two things, actually.  Either someone here was fond of the song.. or the Decepticon Justice Division was here.  It had become their theme song of sorts after their leader ruined the song for everyone else.  It was all anyone could associate it with these days.  Shame.. since it really was a nice song.

Heavy footsteps stopped just before the entrance of the cell, Ratchet looking back up with curiosity.  If it was the Decepticon Justice Division on the other side of the door, he was as good as dead..  But if Megatron wanted him alive, then.. maybe he had a chance.  The door slide open, the medic quickly snapping his optics shut and turning his helm from the sudden light change.  It wasn't horribly bright on the ship, but even a little light was a huge step up from the complete and total darkness of his holding cell.

As the mech stepped forward, Ratchet immediately knew who he was looking at.  He turned his helm as Tarn circled around him.  He could feel the mech's crimson optics watching him from all directions, refusing to let any intimidation take hold of him.  "Take a picture.  It will last longer, you know.."

Finally Tarn stopped, the DJD leader crouching down in front of him as he reached out, causing the Autobot to shrink back as much as the tether between the floor and his stasis cuffs allowed.  It didn't help any when Tarn leaned in closer, either.  "Tarn.. I presume?  I don't know what you're talking about.  We've never met before now.  I don't know how you could have possibly killed me when this is the first time we've met face to face, but.. I've heard the stories about you and your DJD.  None all too pleasant."  The fact that Tarn knew his name didn't settle all that well with him, though it could have easily been through reputation alone.

Ratchet glared up as Tarn stood.  "It really must be a shame, isn't it?  Knowing that you can't kill me since Megatron wants me alive.  I, however, have no intention of giving him what he wants.  You can keep me locked up in here for the rest of my days, you can try to break me down, but at the end of the day, you Decepticons still won't have your way.  You don't scare me, Tarn.  Not one bit."

[Deleted]

“You presume?” Tarn scoffed, taken rather aback, something of a wounded tone to his voice. Ratchet did not remember him? Surely, that could not be. Was he playing dumb? What purpose would such a game serve? Then, a jest? Something to goad him to anger and violence perhaps. But that would be foolish. And there was still no discernable point to it.

Troubled, Tarn allowed himself to let go of it for the moment as Ratchet mentioned the Decepticon Justice Division’s reputation. “Ah, yes. I must admit, at times, the brutality gets to be a bit much for me…”

Before he could go on any further, Ratchet commented on his usefulness. And the fact that Tarn did not scare him. Tarn smirked a bit at that behind his mask. No, he supposed Ratchet would not be afraid. Disappointed? Maybe. But only as much as Tarn was disappointed in the medic for his own choices. He had some lingering regrets of his own to be fair. If only.

“Well, good. I wouldn’t expect fear from you. Though, I must say, I don’t understand this game you’re playing. Amnesia? What point is there to it, Ratchet? Shall I jog your memory?” Tarn knelt down once more, resting his arm on his knee, outstretching the other. “In the days before the war when there was corruption and unrest and…persecution,” Tarn let out a low growl which turned into something of a purr as his fingers curled briefly.

“Optimus, well, Orion Pax then, I suppose, sought to do something about it. You, of course, helped. I assume you two are still as close as you always were,” Tarn shook his head, his tone vaguely disappointed, “You remember the others, don’t you? Roller? Windcharger? Trailbreaker? Scoop? Skids?”

“Ah,” Tarn sighed, waxing nostalgic, “How close we all were then.”

His red optics flicked back to Ratchet to see if that had garnered any reaction. He expected something fairly explosive. After all, their choices had led them all down drastically different paths. How many times had he run across his former colleagues in the past? Perhaps he was a touch sentimental.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet didn't know what it was that Tarn was playing at, but he wasn't about to let the mech intimidate him.  Not in the least.  Sure the mech had his reputation.  This was the mech they said could literally talk one to death, but it wasn't like Ratchet was going to let it so easily happen.  Just how did one talk someone to death on a literal scale anyway?  Well.. aside from maybe the obvious answer, but there would be none of that.

"Just a bit?  If it were just a bit, there wouldn't be so many stories about the Decepticon Justice Division floating around out there, now would there.  Particularly for those who have left the Decepticon cause.  Though I know that you are willing to take out any Autobot who stands in your way."  Ratchet looked down a bit, letting out a forced chuckle.  "It must really pain you that you can't harm me."

Of course.. Tarn expected as much out of the medic.  He knew he wasn't afraid, but he wasn't prepared to let up on this game.  Even Ratchet didn't understand what was going on.  "Tarn, I would know if I knew someone as cruel as you."  Again he leaned back as much as he could with his bound hands behind him, desperate to get away from the wicked mech's own hand.  The Autobot listened as the crimson opticked mech spoke.

...And honestly, it only left him a bigger ball of confusion than he already been.

The names that were mentioned he knew, but some he didn't know why he thought the names familiar.  Roller?  He was a friend of Optimus Prime's.  Skids?  To say he was a quick study was quite the understatement.  A theoretician.  The others were  faded memories that he couldn't quite recall, but it also felt like.. there was someone missing entirely?

"And?  What's your point?  Are you investigating my personal life now?"

[Deleted]

“Ah, but those stories mean that we do our job correctly,” Tarn retorted, holding up a digit, “It’s just as well that those who desert the Decepticon cause fear us. It will not change their fates. Justice is meted out accordingly. Simply because I do this does not mean that I enjoy the brutality that often accompanies executions. But, at times, one must forsake their sense of decency in order to do what must be done.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Tarn sighed and shook his head at Ratchet’s claim, “So, it actually pleases me that Megatron doesn’t wish to see your spark extinguished.” Harm, however…But that wasn’t necessary at the moment. In fact, if anything, Tarn might like to use this opportunity to try to persuade Ratchet, as futile as that effort might be, to make up for his mistakes so long ago and join the right side.

Ah, but he was making Ratchet uncomfortable. Being so close. The medic was so horribly obvious about it. So, Tarn tried to accommodate, retracting his hand slightly to see if that was an adequate enough change. He watched Ratchet’s optics as he tried to recall the names that he’d listed, and, yes, there were flickers of recognition. Tarn looked on hopefully, eager to finally put this little game behind them as Ratchet opened his mouth again.

Sadly, his hopes were dashed.

“Ratchet, I-“ Tarn implored almost pleadingly before frustration boiled up through his circuits. He slammed his fist into the floor angrily, using the force to propel him to his feet. He moved away, turning his back to the medic, clutching at his mask. “I will not utter that name,” he spoke, low and dark, “My pathetic former self.”

Tarn looked to the ceiling, letting out a sigh and rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in them. Was this the point of Ratchet’s little game? To see him unsettled. Well, congratulations were due to him then. Unless…Ratchet had undergone mnemosurgery to forget about him? Tarn hadn’t taken Ratchet for being so weak. Or he was merely making Tarn look the fool.

Turning half-way back to Ratchet, Tarn regarded him, grateful once again for the mask that concealed the vast majority of his features. He was uncertain. Perturbed. Teetering on the fine edge between compassion and violence. “You used to know Megatron before the war, didn’t you? Through Orion Pax, the noble police officer. You all thought to stop the brutality of the senate, didn’t you? The institute? The Empuratas?!”

[Ratchet]

An optic roll was the only thing Ratchet could muster as Tarn gave his speech on how the DJD worked as well as how he was meant to carry out his role.  As if he hadn't heard enough tales of the Decepticon Justice Division before in the past.  The hunt down the traitors, did their thing, then went on their 'merry' way to the next.  They were Megatron's own little secret service, lurking in the shadows and were often a tale spoken in order to scare the wits out of others.. usually ones who contemplated switching sides.

Pretty much the sole reason he worried about Moonwing leaving the Decepticons, but he sure as frag wasn't about to tell Tarn that.

"Well, I'm glad you're getting enjoyment out of this."  Ratchet looked to Tarn in a dull manner, his words flowing out of him in a facetious manner.  Was it a good idea to be talking this way to someone who could so easily terminate him right on the spot?  Not really, but it was his way of putting on a brave face.  Besides, he wasn't afraid in the least.

At least.. not for himself.

As Tarn's hand retreated, the medic looked to him skeptically.  Just what in the world was he doing?  He was even more confused when Tarn almost sounded.. pleading?  That thought quickly left his processor as the masked mech threw his little temper tantrum.  Ratchet hardly flinched as the floor before him was punched, but didn't so much as say a word when his supposed tormentor went quiet.

But now he was curious.  Just what was this 'former self' that Tarn was talking about?

"Of course Megatron was once my friend as well as Optimus Prime's.. however I think you're the one who's forgetting.  Optimus was never a police officer.  The entire time I knew him as Orion Pax, he was a librarian at the Iacon Hall of Records.  He very much loved that job, by the way.  If the war had never started, I'm sure he would still have been there now, but of course.. Megatron just had to throw a fit just like you are to me right now.  Yes.  We wanted to stop the senate.  We wanted to do away with the caste system.  We wanted to do away with the institute.  I felt horrible for all the Empuratas.. but what exactly are you going at with all this?  It's not like I have all day or anything."

Technically he did.

[Deleted]

Tarn listened intently as Ratchet spoke, yet he seemed to have a rather odd idea. Orion never a police officer? His optics narrowed to slits. What Ratchet went on about reconfirmed what he already knew and contradicted it. But as he got to Megatron and Empuratas, Ratchet’s words crawled under his armor like scraplets.

“I was one of them!” Tarn growled, lunging forward, “Or have you forgotten that as well? You helped me. Orion helped me. But you couldn’t save me. Megatron did.” Tarn withdrew once more, standing tall, his mask cloaked in shadow. “We were friends. Once.” Purple biolights dimly illuminated his body as he went silent for a moment.

“But I suppose that was a long time ago.”

He moved forward, kneeling down before Ratchet once more with his former serenity regained. Leaning forward, Tarn stared into Ratchet’s blue optics, boring into them with crimson ones of his own.

“Glitch.”

“Does that name…mean anything to you…?” he asked slowly, watching Ratchet carefully. He had a theory. A hypothesis. But it was almost too nefarious to consider. It made his internals roil at the mere idea. If the Autobots had done this to Ratchet, of all mechs, then…Tarn had severely misjudged Optimus Prime. Severely misjudged all of them.

[Ratchet]

One of them..?  How in the world was Tarn an Empurata?  He had his hands, and he had his face.. sorta.  It was hiding behind that stupid mask of his, but even still it was fairly obvious that there were two optics behind that mask.  Empurata's had claws.. and only a single optic as a face.  It wasn't a pretty procedure, and Ratchet was strictly against it.

"I know I would remember if I helped someone like you!"

Ratchet tugged once more at his restraints, only to lean back one Tarn came closer to him.  He could feel those crimson optics glaring right into his cerulean ones.. as if the crimson ones were attempting to burn him.  Glitch.. that was a name he hadn't heard in so long.  One that brought an interesting memory to mind, but one that also felt so unfamiliar to the medic as well.  Something about a mission to retrieve the Matrix of Leadership.. or a fake one?  But they hadn't done anything like that.. so what was this coming to him?

"I remember.. someone named Glitch, but.. are you saying you're him?  But that isn't possible.  You don't even look like the Glitch I remember."  Ratchet paused, thinking more.  That's right.  Glitch had been an Empurata.  Red, with the claws and the one optic.  Smaller than Tarn.  That's when he started to think of the others that appeared in that strange memory.  Glitch had been there, but so hard Roller.

"...If you're going to tell me you're someone from my past, at least pick a name that matches your body type.  Frankly.. you look more like Roller than you do Glitch."

Once more Ratchet tugged against the bonds keeping his hands behind his back and keeping him on his knees.  "Listen.. I don't know what you're trying to pull.  You can toy with my memories all you want, but I'm going to tell you this now.  I know Optimus and the others are looking for me.  They won't leave me here, and there's nothing that you or anyone else can do to stop them."

[Deleted]

When recognition flickered in the medic’s optics, Tarn thought that maybe – at last – they had made some headway. But he was mistaken. Sadly, sadly mistaken. Then again. Maybe only partially mistaken. Ratchet did remember. The useless husk that he used to be. Without a purpose. Abandoned.

“I suppose I do now after having been reborn,” Tarn lilted lightly.

Ratchet didn’t believe him. Hadn’t made the connection. It only further supported his hypothesis. Looking away from the medic, Tarn rubbed his chin, glancing back his way when Ratchet had found it in himself to spout more of his nonsense. Pushing off and away from Ratchet, Tarn stepped back into the shadows, holding up a clawed actuator.

“You are being deceived,” Tarn recited with fervor, “…how often those words spring to mind.”

Crimson optics fell upon Ratchet once more. “Stop them? Why on Cybertron would I want to stop them? Let them come! It is so much easier when your prey flies into the jaws of death. I welcome them.” Tarn chuckled, a dark, malevolent thing that reverberated off of the walls of the cell.

“I fear your so called friends are not what you think they are. Toy with your memories, me? Hah. A ridiculous notion. Why not ask dear Optimus Prime about that? Or Prowl? Or any of Autobot High Command, though I doubt they’ll be as quite...as forthcoming as I. No, I have…Well, you know actually.”

Tarn stepped forward, a smile dancing across his lips as he leaned down over Ratchet, the shadow of his form falling upon the medic. “Think carefully, dear Ratchet. Remember. What else was there about Glitch? Hmmm…?”

[Ratchet]

Ratchet couldn't believe it.  Was this.. really Glitch?  But there was no way.  Not unless he received a complete and total overhaul, but was there an easy reversal after becoming an Empurata?  Apparently someone had figured it out, or Glitch wouldn't have somehow turned into.. this.

"No.  No there's no way you could be Glitch.  That can't be possible.."

He just couldn't believe it, even if Tarn told the truth.  There was plenty reason to not believe the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, but at the very same time.. what had happened to Glitch?  Ratchet sure as heck couldn't remember.  He tried thinking hard on the last time he saw the mech, and he honestly could not recall.  However, as Tarn continued to speak, a new thought cropped into mind.  "How do I know you aren't deceiving me right now?  How do I know you aren't trying to lull me into some sort of false security so that you can hit me where it hurts most?"

A glare surfaced as Tarn spoke ill of his comrades and friends.  He knew that they had to be looking for him, and he knew that some (like Wheeljack) would likely not rest until the medic was safe and sound.  However.. there was also that part of him that hoped they wouldn't come.  He didn't want to be a burden on them, even if he knew they would say otherwise.

"That is far from true,Tarn.  They're my friends.  I know that they would never.."

Jazz..

Ratchet quieted, glancing to his left with a somewhat hurt expression.  Jazz had been a friend, hadn't he?  And look what had happened.  Now he was trapped in enemy territory, bound and locked in a dark holding cell with no means of defending himself aside from his own words.  There was a real chance he could be terminated once Megatron no longer had a use for him, and knew it would happen eventually..  But the medic knew Optimus and the others would never let that happen.  Primus knew Wheeljack would come for him if no one else did.. even if Ratchet was against the idea.

Once more he turned to Tarn, crimson optics staring down upon him.

"I.. recall he could.. render inanimate machines useless.. without even touching them."

[Deleted]

Denial. Tarn expected as much, but at least they were making some progress now. Watching as the truth slowly began to dawn over the medic, Tarn considered Ratchet’s new line of questioning. A number of reasons sprang to mind. They were Decepticons. They were freed from deception. They were not blind. Their optics no longer shrouded. But Tarn decided on a less…debatable – in Ratchet’s optics undoubtedly – answer.

“What reason have I to lie about that, Ratchet? Really now,” Tarn purred. Ah, and Ratchet’s retort. That flicker of doubt in his optics. Then hurt. It was delightful. The cracks were beginning to form. Now, if Tarn could only widen them further, then, perhaps…he could be made of use to the Decepticons.

“Do you know?” he prodded, “Do you really?”

As the medic turned back to him, Tarn’s smiled widened behind his mask. He was remembering more now. Good. Good. Perhaps a demonstration was in order. “Yes! Very good, Ratchet!” Tarn applauded him, “And…” he continued, gesturing lightly with a hand, “If such an ability were honed…”

His voice lowered, becoming far more melodic. Low. Something else as well. Some modulation to it. Something that tugged at the very spark of those who quite naturally strained to hear something quiet. A whisper.

“It could become a blade potent enough to work on living ones. Couldn’t it, Ratchet? One that can…extinguish sparks.”

[Ratchet]

Maybe a crack had begun to show, but Ratchet wasn't about to let Tarn take advantage of it.  So what if Jazz had completely betrayed him?  That didn't mean that everyone else was out to get him.  He had his adoptive sire, Pharma.  He had his Conjunx Endura, Wheeljack.  He had a best friend in Optimus, and there were so many others who cared about him.  That wasn't even going into his adopted child, Strongarm.. and his own on the way with Wheeljack.

"Yes...  Yes, I really know, Tarn."

Ratchet returned his gaze to the supposed Glitch, looking at him and listening as his voice slowed and lowered..  As he listened to what Tarn had to say, he felt a sharp pain.  It was quick, and only returned once, but it was enough to make him double over.

Was that.. what they had meant?  By literal talking to death?  Just how..?

With optics widened, Ratchet stared at the floor.  The tether between the floor and his stasis cuffs was pulled as far forward as it could go, causing the stasis cuffs to dig into the medic's wrists.

"What... What do you.. want from me..?"

[Deleted]

Ah, Tarn had pushed at the crack to little avail. He could see that all too familiar solidarity rising up in the medic’s optics. He would have to go at it harder then. Apply another tactic. One decidedly delicious one came to mind almost immediately. Soon his words would take the desired effect, he was sure.

In fact, they already were in a way.

Watching with satisfaction as Ratchet briefly convulsed and doubled over in pain, Tarn plotted just how to word his next barb. Hm-hm. Well, the script had never failed him in the past. Ratchet’s next question actually served as quite an adequate prompt for Tarn. Moving away somewhat, Tarn turned his back to Ratchet, glancing over his shoulder.

“Allow me to answer your question with another. Are you…happy? Are there those in your life whom you trust and adore? Optimus Prime, surely, but there are others…aren’t there? Roller, another I imagine. But more. Can you name a few perhaps? Hm? Because…one of them…is still deceiving you.”

Tarn wondered vaguely if he had waited long enough for Ratchet to recover before asking him that particular line of questioning. Ah, he shouldn’t fret so, it was weak. This…lingering sentimentality. The mech Ratchet had known as Glitch was long dead, but there were still…remnants.

Like occasional thorns in Tarn’s side.

And what he would do to those who had tampered with Ratchet’s memories…How they would rue their mistakes. Why, Ratchet was really a victim in all of this. Who knew how far back the tampering stretched. Maybe if he spoke to Megatron, then-

No.

No, no. This was that weakness again. Tarn would not let himself be deceived by this naïve hope. Whenever he wavered, all he need do was recite sections of Towards Peace and conjure Megatron’s fierce visage. All was right again. Tarn let out a quiet sigh, more to himself than anything else.