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Characters: @wheeljack, @pharma, Ratchet Location: Autobot Base > The Jackhammer > The Nemesis Content Warnings: Violence, tba Plot Summary: Nothing in this universe will stop Wheeljack from getting Ratchet back.
It had been five Earth months since that fraggin’ turncoat Jazz had kidnapped Ratchet and betrayed them all, and it had been five months too long since he’d last held his conjunx in his arms and been held in turn. They’d only just found out he was carrying a newspark when Ratchet had been taken., too, and how fast his tentative optimism for the future and cautious euphoria had evaporated! Wheeljack hadn’t wanted to do this carrying thing alone, but apparently the universe had other plans.
As soon as the others knew of his carrying status, he’d been put on unofficial house arrest - something which drove Wheeljack insane most days as his urge to be anywhere but here was restricted for his safety… and for the newspark’s. His confinement wasn’t entirely non-consensual, either, ‘cause when he thought of the little sprocket nestled next to his own spark, and thought of how happy Ratchet had been when he’d found out… well. Though there was really absolutely nothing stopping him from walking out now, he stayed put. He wouldn’t dare risk this little part of Ratchet he still had left no matter how much he wanted to claw at the walls and throttle his team mates for walking and talking too loudly.
Wouldn’t risk it unless he had a chance to save the newspark’s sire, that is. Five months was too long. He wanted Ratchet back.
Which was why he was out prepping the Jackhammer in the dead of night, alone, without anyone knowing he’d given them the slip. Wheeljack was planning a rescue attempt, and didn’t intend to return until Ratchet was safely back in his arms. Over the past five months, he’d spent whatever time he could bear to stand manning communications, carefully analyzing radio and radar signals from across the globe in search of his target. The Nemesis had excellent cloaking technology that not even he had been able to crack, but he’d worked out the work around: primitive Earth tech couldn’t track the location of the Nemesis, but they could pick up the travelling dead zone that criss-crossed the world. It was like tracking a black hole, only instead of using the absence of light as his indicator, he used the radio silence.
Honestly, everyone seemed to forget Wheeljack was also a genius when he put his surly mind to it. He couldn’t be bothered to be offended, though, ‘cause that amnesia afforded him opportunities to slip under the radar and use his genius without his intelligence being taken into account.
Wheeljack had checked the engines, making sure they were tuned up. He’d just finished formatting a new multi-phase cycling shield when his doorwings twitched. Something… Something wasn’t right...
“I know yer there, ain’t no point in hidin’!” He growled at the shadows in the cargo hold, optics narrowed and doorwings rigid. “But I ain’t goin’ back t’base, not ‘till I got him back.”
Five months. Five months he'd barely been able to concentrate on his work. Five months he'd felt useless and powerless. Five months that he was convinced he was hated and reviled because he was a failure. Just like back at Delphi, he told himself. Just like when he'd broken "first do no harm". Failure. Useless.
When caught, he didn't remain hiding. He would show himself, pale, drawn, haggard, and quite frankly, what the younger bots called a "hot mess". As he had been since he got movement back after he'd been shot. His wing was still a mangled wreck; he didn't trust anyone but Ratchet to fix it.
"I'm not here to drag you back to base. I know I'll just fail anyway." For a moment, his voice seemed dull, as it had for a long time. "Everyone knows a Wrecker's determination outclasses any effort to counteract it." A wry joke. The only joke he could make in the situation, so as not to bring the mood down.
His wings were whipped back; rarely did he ever whip his wings this far back unless he was truly upset--and he'd had them whipped back for months at this point. He hadn't fanned out his wings in a long time.
"I don't want to go back to base until he's back either, to be honest." He gave a stern look. "You're going to need a medic to accompany you anyway if you're wanting to leave. Why not take the one who has the most at stake here? Ratchet isn't just precious to you."
He wasn’t all that surprised when Pharma crept out of the shadows, looking haggard and run-down - if there was anyone else who’d been as affected by Ratchet’s loss as he had it’d been the seeker standing before him. WHeeljack glared at him suspiciously, frame tense. He didn’t want to have to take down Ratchet’s beloved mentor, but he’d down him if Pharma tried to stop him. It came as little surprise when Pharma expressed pointed disinterest in trying, which was a relief. “Damn right you’d fail,” Wheeljack said gruffly. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me tonight.”
The Wrecker’s doorwings went back in agitation at the stern look, always the one to chafe under authority. “Y’think I don’t know that, Gramps? I know I ain’t th’ only one that cares about him, but nobody else is doin’ slag about it. An’ I ain’t gonna sit on my fraggin’ aft anymore, not when I got a chance t’get him back.”
It was a selfish statement, arrogantly disregarding the worry the rest of the team had had for their missing doctor, but Wheeljack figured if anyone had a right to be cranky about the inaction it was him, the one that was actually having the intense carrier mood swings with no conjunx to help him through it.
Time was ticking away and he was starting to get antsy. Wheeljack knew just by looking at Pharma that his chances of getting the medic off The Jackhammer were about the same as the chances of him going back to the base. “-Fine.” He gestured impatiently to the cockpit even as he stormed over to the controls. “There’s the copilot seat, don’t touch anythin’. I ain’t gonna put up with any fussin’ over me cuz’ I’m sparked up, ‘cuz nothin’ is more important t’me right now than gettin’ him back.”
The ship’s engine rumbled to life under his experienced hands, and they were off.
‘I’m comin’, Sunshine. Just hold on a little while longer.’
---
The first sign that there was anything amiss on The Nemesis was the colossal explosion that blew a hole straight through the hull. The Jackhammer was unsubtly wedged in the lovely parking stall he’d made, and thanks to his engineering prowess, the ship would remain safe behind a modulating energy shield designed with randomly changing frequencies, making it impossible to hack. If the ‘Cons wanted to shut it down, they’d have to blow through it, and he was sorry he wouldn’t be there to see ‘em try.
His months hard work and agonizing patience had paid off, and his reward had been the chance to blow this pit-slagging ship apart in his fury. No con stood a chance against the Wrecker that came flying at them in his fury, blue optics blazing, blades gleaming. Being more than halfway through his carrying cycle, he knew he was being irresponsible in exposing the little sprocket growing within his sparkchamber to danger... but he wanted Ratchet back. He needed Ratchet back.
“Keep up, Gramps!” Wheeljack tossed over his shoulder at the seeker hot on his heels, before setting off, full throttle, in search of his beloved. He reached through the bond he shared with Ratchet, willing it to awaken after months of terrifying silence, praying that it would show them the way.
And then- his spark sang, for he was close enough to feel Ratchet, and he let out a relieved, joyous cry. That feeling only doubled his determination, and so he followed it.
Following it lead him to a locked door. Wheeljack's optics narrowed at it, evaluating it . A simple override would have been more than enough, but his volatile mood was so sour that he opted to simply just shoot the panel. With doorwings high in agitation, and battle mask covering his face, he made an ominous figure as he stalked through the open door.
His servos clenched when he heard those words of resolution. It looked like he could trust that Wheeljack wasn't going to give up. A part of him didn't want to give up either. He'd survived Delphi--perhaps through twisted means and amoral acts but he'd survived. And he could save Ratchet too if he had to.
"Nor should I. It's not healthy for me." He paused, a wry smile crossing his faceplate. "...Ratchet would have said it wasn't. That's all the more reason we need to get him back. We need a medic who isn't going on autopilot. And no that was not a joke about my jet mode. I don't joke about that." Honestly, at this point he barely joked at all.
He would sit where instructed, resting his hands in his lap. Don't touch anything? Okay, he could do that. "No fussing. Just joining. Might need a chainsaw to get through the Nemesis, you know." Not that he was going to demonstrate in such an enclosed space. He needed to save it for the Nemesis.
---
He himself had thought the feat of engineering quite unorthodox to say the least. But if it worked, who was he to knock the Wrecker way? His left hand servo was gripping to his small pistol-type blaster, his right hand servo transformed into a chainsaw that roared with his fury, trailing sparks along the wall with every wide swing of the roaring chain blade that tore through the ship.
He followed close behind Wheeljack, almost back-to-back with him by the time that they reached that door. He was going to provide cover fire. It was the least he could do. Once the door was open, he but scarcely glanced in, backing in to follow Wheeljack.
It had been five months since Ratchet had been kidnapped and handed over to the Decepticons, but to the medic.. it felt more like five years. It had been far too long since he had last seen anyone he cared about. Anyone he loved. He was already beginning to forget what it felt like. The medic was stuck on a ship with the Decepticons, knowing full well that they could and would terminate him the moment the got what they wanted out of him.. if not sooner. It instilled a fear in him, making him antsy and worried about when that time would come.
It wasn't that he hadn't tried to get away. He had tried a few times, but each time had ended in failure. The most recent attempt had involved him slipping a powerful emetic into a sample of Synthetic Energon, hoping to convince them it was the final product. Unfortunately, they had been too smart and forced Ratchet to sample it instead. Thanks to the emetic, it hadn't harmed him in any way aside from the purging to get it out of his system. That had been the emetic at work.
As punishment, he had been locked back in his holding cell for a couple of days, hands cuffed behind his back via stasis cuffs. No one entered that room in that time, leaving him completely and utterly alone. It was during that time of solitary confinement that Wheeljack and Pharma had boarded the Nemesis. Ratchet had been tired, weakened, and still baring all the cracks and breaks in his armor from Tarn. There was a large section of the right side of his chevron completely missing now, the broken off piece likely tossed by the Vehicon guards that had been ordered to clean after Tarn's torture.
By the time the rescuers boarded the ship, Ratchet had passed out. He was exhausted and mentally drained. There was a common saying that if you weren't found in three days of an abduction, the likelihood of being found dramatically decreased. Being so much more than that, Ratchet was beginning to lose hope of being rescued.
The combination of the panel keeping the door locked being shot, the door actually opening, and the voices coming from the doorway was enough to stir the medic ever so slightly. His optics were half open and his optics were far too pale from the cyan color they should have been. He lie on the floor, hands locked behind him as he wearily glanced to the door, the little amount of light seeping through hurting his optics.
"Huh... Who.. who's there...?" Was his processor playing tricks on him again? Was he really about to be rescued?
The wave of relief in his spark as he laid optics upon his conjunx was truly unquantifiable, and if one were listening closely, one could hear the soft gasp that slipped out of the Wrecker in that moment. Ratchet was alive, and soon he would be safe and sound. That relief was matched only by his scathing hot fury at the state of his conjunx: dings and scratches and too-pale optics betrayed the abuse Ratchet had suffered, and the thought that harm had come to him while Wheeljack had not been able to protect him only made him more wroth.
But his anger would have to wait. Wheeljack retracted his battle mask and was at Ratchet’s side in an instant, reaching out to him through their bond as he got to work cracking open the shackles. “It’s me, Sunshine, it’s me,” He murmured, a hand coming up to gently caress Ratchet’s cheek even as he pried at the manacles that bound him. “Me an’ ol’ Gramps, we’re here t’take you home.”
Brute force wouldn’t break the bindings, but a well-placed screwdriver to the locking mechanism did the trick. Once the shackles were off, Wheeljack wasted no time in hauling Ratchet into his arms. “I’m here, an’ yer’ gonna be fine. Ain’t nobody takin’ you away from me again, y’got that? I ain’t gonna let ‘em. S’gonna be okay, I’m gonna make it okay.”
Pharma fired off a few more covering shots at the vehicons flooding into the area. When dark blue optics met too-pale cyan optics, they seemed to shift to a sadder shade of navy blue for a moment, almost quick and imperceptible. Before he could even get energon into Ratchet's system, before anything else, he'd seen one thing and knew what he wanted to do.
No, what he needed to do. Needed and wanted.
He gripped to his own chevron until he snapped part of it off. He then whispered softly, almost imperceptibly. "...Wheeljack. Just let me do this." He transformed his right hand into a welding torch for a moment, the left gripping the chevron piece in place. "If I can even fix one hurt here..." His voice faltered.
All he could do is hope that Wheeljack wouldn't mind if he did what he felt was right--even at the cost of putting himself in pain.
Ratchet glanced up in awe as Wheeljack caressed his cheek before attempting to get the stasis cuffs off of him. He was lost in those bright blue optics of his, focused on them before finally speaking up.
"Wheeljack.. you came.."
He tiredly looked back to watch as his Conjunx freed him from his bonds, groaning as he was pulled up into his arms. Ratchet leaned into him, listening to every word spoken. He felt a little better with the promise that he wouldn't be taken away again, letting his optics close for a brief moment before turning to see Pharma. Was.. that who Wheeljack had meant when he'd said 'Gramps'? "Pharma.."
Confusion set in when Pharma suddenly snapped off part of his own chevron, only to understand when it was being welded onto his own broken one. He grunted a little, closing his optics once more as he leaned into Wheeljack. The light from the welding torch as well as the sound stirred him a little more, making him more alert and aware of the situation.
And that's when the panic settled in..
Ratchet's optics widened in horror, shaking violently as tears threatened to spill over. He looked to Wheeljack and Pharma both. They needed to know.
"What.. What are you two doing here..? It's.. it's not safe.. Please.. you have to leave. Get out while you still can. Just.. leave me here and go before.. they catch you.. The DJD's here.. They'll kill you if they find you here. Please!! I can't lose the three of you!! I love you too much to let you die because of me..!" Tears spilled over, Ratchet in a full panic. He was scared to death that he was about to lose the most important people in his life.
Wheeljack barely even paid attention to Pharma’s defense at the door - his focus was for Ratchet, and only for Ratchet. His thumb rubbed a gentle circle on his cheek. “‘Course I came, Sunshine! Ain’t nothin’ will keep me from you. I only wish I’d been able to come sooner!” His Conjunx was in such poor shape, and the Wrecker felt a stab of guilt. He should’ve been smarter, quicker at figuring out how to find the Nemesis, so that Ratchet wouldn’t have suffered. “Pharma, he’s here too, we both came t’bust y’outta here.”
Once the Vehicons in the hallway were dealt with, Pharma came closer - and snapped his chevron off. Wheeljack’s optics widened for a moment in confusion before understanding dawned. “Be quick, Gramps, we ain’t gotta lotta time left. That modulatin’ shield only lasts thirty minutes at the max before it overheats and blows,” The thing was a prototype, after all, and he’d never been able to get it to work for longer than half an hour before the damn box overheated and blew.
And then Ratchet began to shake, and tears rolled down his cheekplates, and Wheeljack wished he could destroy the entire ship and every ‘Con on board for making Ratchet so afraid. “Shh, Sunshine, shh,” He soothed, pressing Ratchet’s helm closer protectively. “Our sprocket’s alright, I ain’t lettin’ anythin’ happen t’them either. I ain’t gonna let, I swear on my love for you.”
They had to get moving, though. Otherwise the ‘Cons would get through that field to the Jackhammer, and their way out would be kaput.
Wheeljack got his hands under Ratchet’s arm and gently helped him up, supporting his weight as they eased back towards the door. “C’mon, Sunshine, we’re gonna go home, I promise. They ain’t gonna get us. Let’s go home.”
His finger transformed into a welder quickly, starting to weld the piece of the chevron into place. The whole time, his expression was grim and nearly emotionless; it was the only way he could get through this procedure without breaking down and crying. His chest heaved softly.
"It's done." His voice was quiet. His digit shifted back from welder to digit. "We need to go...fast. I just...I have a bad feeling. And I've learned from Delphi--you don't discard bad feelings."
He stood, getting his gun free once more, picking off a pair of vehicons--though not with deadly force. All he had to do was slow them down, use them to slow others down. That's what he knew by this point. He seemed to turn away from that corridor to fire down the other direction in case, something in his frame tensing with every shot.
The skittering of claws would come before the thunder. That was often said of the electrocutioner of the Decepticon Justice Division--and his darling pet. And frankly, it was true, with the trotting and clacking of claws, followed by the heavy pedefalls.
Before Pharma would have a chance to turn around, electrified hands would grab his wings and the frame would be slumped against him. His digits ran along the side of Pharma's face and he smirked, resting his chin atop Pharma's helm while the medic's frame slumped.
He then cackled softly before finally speaking. "Oh Ratchet, you shouldn't have. A gift for Tarn?" His tesla coils sparked with excitement. "You really think you've escaped? Well, it'll come at a cost and you know it. But is that cost your life? Or him?"
As Ratchet panicked, he tried his hardest to listen to Wheeljack's soothing. He just didn't understand. Why wouldn't they just leave him there? The DJD were here and that put everyone in danger, especially when Tarn now knew that Pharma was on Earth. He let his love move his helm closer to him, letting his optics close as Wheeljack spoke.
"Wheeljack.."
Knowing their sprocket was alright along with Wheeljack's touch managed to calm Ratchet down just enough that he could focus. The panic wasn't completely gone, but it would have to do since they didn't have time to sit around. He groaned as he was helped up, finding himself putting all his weight against the Wrecker. Keeping an arm around Wheeljack's shoulder, he limped alongside him as Pharma covered them. He let his optics wonder towards Wheeljack, allowing himself to speak through their bond. 'Thank you.. for coming for me. There were so many times I thought I wasn't going to make it to the next day, but thinking of you and our sprocket? It helped. My only regret is.. wishing you would never come so I could keep you safe.'
Maybe they really could get out of this intact. Each step away from the brig filled Ratchet with more hope of escaping.
That hope, however.. was smashed to pieces the very moment his dull optics fell upon Kaon. "K..ka..on.."
Pharma had been grabbed, and the threat against him had been laid out. The medic's optics only grew wide as he shook, the panic returning, stronger than ever. He couldn't think straight. He wanted to scream but nothing wanted to come out of his vocalizer. The mech had reached a point of near hyperventilation by the time he could get anything out.
"N-no.. I.. I ca-.. no.. I.."
He couldn't make that choice. If he told Kaon to let Pharma go and that he'd take his place, who was to say he wouldn't have Wheeljack and Pharma killed right behind his back? If he left Pharma.. Pharma would still die. There was no winning. Either way, Ratchet was going to lose. His panic deepened even more, his despair slipping into his bond without him even realizing it. They weren't going to make it. This is where they were going to be terminated.. and it was all going to be his fault.
‘Aw, Sunshine…’ It broke his spark to hear Ratchet so beaten, that he’d prayed that Wheeljack would never come so as to stay safe. Any other bot and he’d be indignant at the implication that he couldn’t take care of himself, but this was different. ‘I’m sorry it took so long. I wish I had come sooner, and gotten y’ outta here sooner. I’m sorry I wasn’t even there t’stop him from takin’ you. I’m just…. I’m so sorry I didn’t do more.’ He’d failed at protecting Ratchet once, but never again would his conjunx come into such danger.
With Pharma covering them from behind, Wheeljack guided Ratchet back the way they’d came. “Don’t worry, Gramps, we’re almost there,” He reassured. Up ahead, more vehicons skidded around the corner, but the Wrecker effortlessly picked them off with his in-built blaster before they had a chance to shoot. Unlike Pharma, he was shooting to kill. He was not in a merciful mood.
Then came the skittering, and Wheeljack turned to see Pharma jerk and collapse unconscious without a sound into the waiting arms of a Con, electricity dancing across his wings. At the feet of the Con scrabbled what appeared to be a rabid turbofox, straining on its chain to get at them.“Pharma!” He shouted- but it was too late. His grip on Ratchet tightened, and he did his best to get himself between the Con and his Conjunx while still supporting most of Ratchet’s weight. “Let him go, or I’ll shoot!” He threatened, optics darkened in anger as he took aim. “If y’think I ain’t leavin’ with him and with my Doc, think again!”
"Cute. You two think I'm going to let him go? You do realize if you shoot, I'm just going to use him as a shield, right?" A cruel smile twisted on his face. "You're in no position to negotiate." He started giving a cruel chuckle, his opticless features taking their own dangerous glint. His crimson digits gripped Pharma's lower jaw in a sickeningly sweet manner. "You don't want to lose the precious cargo, do you?"
The Pet would arch, snarling when the leash clinked to the ground. It would then bound toward Ratchet and Wheeljack, snarling and snapping its jaws at them as though to maul them. Kaon's smile became frigid.
"If you try to take this one, you lose yours. Don't worry. We won't kill him. Yet. He's too useful to us, unlike that potentially traitorous automobile." He gave a low growl at first, before his voice dripped with sickening sweetness. He could feel the slackened frame starting to stir and suddenly moved to shove his middle and ring digits inside Pharma's mouth to muffle him. "Don't even try it, doctor, or I'll shatter your cockpit here..."
Last Edit: Jun 28, 2017 22:50:12 GMT by Deleted
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