FIGHT ME

"My sense of judgement seems to be compromised,
You're too strong to be denied."

⬵⤁

Wheeljack was livid.

He had seen Decepticons - and Autobots - at their worst in this eons-long war. Enough so that he knew not to trust anyone except his Wrecker team. But when he heard about how a dirty Decepticon tried to scrap Bulkhead while his back was turned . . . that was a bar so low he did not think Megatron knew it existed. What made the whole thing unbelievable as well was Optimus Prime's refusal to tell him who did it.

"We should not focus on revenge, but instead Bulkhead's recovery."

"Yeah, you do that," he muttered to himself as he prepared his vessel for takeoff. "As if Bulkhead wouldn't do the same for any of you."

He had no idea where to start, but giving Megatron a holler would be a good one. A plan was already forming in his helm, a way he could force the dictator to cooperate and give him the 'con he wanted. Sure, he could easily try to trick Wheeljack by sending a lonely footsoldier, but they both knew he was no idiot.

Closing up his ship and initiating takeoff, the Wrecker glided smoothly through the rock formations of the planet and headed into the upper atmosphere, cloaking his signature. Almost as an afterthought he plugged in the coordinates of the base and set the autopilot, something in his gut telling him it was for the best. Once the ship confirmed the setting he then just activated the autoflight program, wanting to sit and think without needing to constantly steady the Jackhammer and watch out for human pilots.

His sensitive audio receptors picked up the noise of what sounded like loud footsteps, his optics narrowing. He doubted one of the Autobots had stowed away on the ship, and he really did not want another doppleganger incident . . .

Activating his cannon he whirled, quickly pointing it at about chest-height of a Cybertronian. Instead he was met with the tiny stature of Bulkhead's organic charge, Miko. Her small, hazel eyes were glistening with unshed tears, hands curled into tight fists.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, powering down his cannon. He was relieved it was not a 'con, but concerned that she had somehow managed to sneak aboard.

Her answer was unwavering, and confident. "I'm going to find the 'con who hurt Bulkhead. You in?"

"I'm taking you back," he immediately turned in his chair, grabbing the controls. If Prime or Bulk realizes she's missing, I'm going to have my tailpipe kicked by both of them. How did she get on board anyways?

"No, wait!" Miko ran up to him, clambering onto the chair of the copilot. Her fierce eyes did not waver one bit, determination coursing through her veins. "I want to help."

"Listen, when I find the 'con who tried to scrap our boy, I'll take care of him, my way." Wheeljack gestured to the grenade on his hip to show her his point. She glanced at it, but to his dismay was undeterred.

"It's not just about Bulkhead," her fists clenched again as anger burned in her heart. Anger and worry. "Ratchet and Jack were captured by the 'Cons."

Wheeljack paused. This was news to him. "What?"

"You didn't notice that the only doctor in the base was missing?" Miko asked him, completely dumbfounded. When the Wrecker only gave her a confused expression, she took a frustrated breath and continued. "Long story short, the docbot and Jack got cornered on the warship when they sent us the coordinates for those relics. Y'know, the one you lost to Soundwave?"

"I didn't need that reminder," Wheeljack huffed. But he did recall noticing Ratchet's absence, however he just assumed the maestro was grabbing another cube of energon to keep Bulkhead at optimal fuel levels. It never occurred to him that it was because he was missing.

Why did Optimus not say anything?

"And, I know who did it," Miko watched him with glittering eyes. "I know who tried to scrap Bulkhead."

He gazed at her for a long time, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. She had no real reason to lie, and the ferocity of her voice only solidified the fact that she was confident, and truthful. "Who?"

"Take me with you, help me get Jack and Ratchet back, and I'll tell you."

⬵⤁

It seemed that the universe never wanted Megatron to have a day of rest.

"Just look at what they've done!" Knock Out flailed in front of him, screeching about the Insecticons which stood behind him. A fight between the Insecticon and Vehicon troops had caught Soundwave's attention, and judging from how Knock Out reacted, one would have thought a bot had died.

Megatron resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the CMO and send him back to his medical bay. "Spare me the dramatics, Knock Out. It is but a scratch."

Knock Out was not stupid enough to complain about his lord calling it "just" a scratch. "That is not what I was referring to, my liege. These . . . beasts are causing dissent amongst the ranks. We should have them confined, restrained even!"

"You cannot produce anything that is strong enough to restrain an Insecticon warrior," Hardshell hissed at the Decepticon, his mandibles clicking in agitation. Megatron was considering the best way to bash their helms together when a Vehicon at one of the monitors - someone actually important - interrupted the exchange.

"My liege, we are receiving an emergency transmission from mine TBC-15." He announced.

Megatron tilted his helm. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Unclear, my liege. The caller will speak only to you."

This was certainly unusual. The tyrant made his way across the bridge to reach the terminal, pausing for a moment to assess what he was reading on the screen before pressing the button.

"What is it?"

Miko had heard the Decepticon warlord speak before, but that was when it was in English, her second language. The dialect which rolled off his glossa sent straight chills down her spine, the clicks and inhuman whines of Cybertronian painful against her ears. She saw Wheeljack glance at her, then return his gaze to the screen which indicated he was still in contact with the Nemesis.

"This is a pretty nice operation you got here Megatron," Wheeljack drawled. "Although technically, you might say it's under new management."

Soundwave took a snippet of the conversation and searched his records for a match, almost immediately displaying for Megatron the caller's identification and body specifications on the console.

"Wheeljack," Megatron read the designation. "The one who enjoys the explosive devices."

::Indeed. And I'm sitting on top of one of your big, juicy mining ops.:: He did not have to spell it out for the Decepticon leader. The mine was lost, and he had the means to either blow it, or any potential invaders, up.

"The loss of one asset is hardly a blow to the Decepticon cause." The unfazed tyrant waited for something interesting to develop, already bored with the conversation.

::Maybe. But I won't stop at one. I'm going to keep hittin' 'em until you give me what I want.:: The Wrecker growled, not here to play games.

"And what, pray tell, would that be?" Megatron showed his razor denta ever so slightly. He did not think the Wrecker and medibot were close enough to warrant a rescue -

::The Insecticon scum that tried to frag Bulkhead.::

Megatron was well versed in the words and sentences which passed through his processor; as the lord of the Decepticons, he was adept at picking apart each byte of information which passed in from his audioreceptors within nanokliks. And Wheeljack's statement was no different.

"Tried?" He asked in disbelief. "Are you saying . . . the Autobot lives?" The snarl which left his vocalizer was directed full-force toward the Insecticon in question, Hardshell cowering ever so slightly.

"He is bluffing!"

::Wouldn't bet on it. And you're slagging lucky he made it, even without the Doc's help.:: Wheeljack continued. ::Which is another thing I think needs to be addressed. Ratchet, and Jack.::

Megatron was already becoming increasingly angry that they had not actually scored a major victory against the Autobots. I will have to change that when the medic's usefulness runs out.

::Give 'em to us, or I'll keep hitting every mine until you either die of starvation or do what I want.::

"The medic and his insect are prisoners of war, ones that will not be given up so easily." Megatron snarled. "All I must do is reinforce my mines, Wheeljack, and you will eventually be captured or offlined. You will have to bargain with something much more useful than your limited supply of grenades."

The Wrecker clenched his fist.

::Surely you can't be stupid enough to let me hit every mine I can. Because I will. And you'll have no idea when I'm coming, or where I'll go next. Give them up, Megatron.::

His persistance, though commendable, was starting to become annoying. Megatron thought for some time, weighing his options. The medic was a strong, automatic no, and he was reluctant to give up the human. It was a weak point he fully intended to exploit later. However . . .

Perhaps later could become now.

"Then we much compromise," he gave the screen a dark stare. "The human, and Hardshell, in exchange for our mine's immunity. That is my only offer, Wheeljack. It would be most wise to take it."

Miko looked at Wheeljack, tears in her eyes. He couldn't refuse, he couldn't.

He glared at the screen, clenching his servo. The Wrecker took several things into consideration, mostly: would Ratchet accept such a proposal? Many 'bots would say that they would accept a trade that saved their comrades and left them behind, but the reality was different. He knew several mechs that became bitter about being left behind . . . truthfully, he was no different.

But the humans were innocent of this war and its crimes. Their involvement was an accident; Team Prime proved that by putting "robots in disguise" above all other guidelines, not wanting to involve Earth or its inhabitants in combat. Ratchet knew this, and Wheeljack would bet the Jackhammer that if he knew of this trade, he would approve it. For Jack, Miko, and Rafael.

::Fine. Hardshell and Jack. I'll transmit the coordinates of my next target. And if they're not there when I arrive . . .::

"Rest assured, Wheeljack," Megatron grinned savagely. "They will be."

::Oh, and Megatron? In case you were wondering what five tons of exploding energon sounds like . . .::

The resulting explosive noise was nearly deafening, though Megatron suspected the Wrecker had turned up the sensitivity of his transmitting microphone to catch the sound. Regardless, it was a horrid noise, one that wiped the grin off of his face. Hardshell had a spark to get.

And he had a human to collect.

⬵⤁

Ratchet was relieved when his nanites finally stopped the bleeding of the injury to his chestplates, but worried when his tanks read even lower than normal. Typically he was able to function with half of his reserves and energon use dialed to the lowest setting, but now he was cut down to three-eighths. At this rate, it would only take a little while longer before he was either forced into stasis, or Megatron managed to tease some kind of information out of him.

Jack was curled up on the floor next to him, minimizing his movements and even trying to sleep. Ratchet assumed this was survival instinct leading him to lowering his metabolism. The teen shot to his feet almost immediately, however, when the door to their cell opened.

Megatron stepped through, his red optics scanning the area while two Vehicon soldiers guarded the entrance. Unease settled within Ratchet's core; it was unlike the warlord to arrive so soon after an initial interrogation session. His spark nearly stopped when the sickening red optics settled on Jack, realization crossing his processor.

"Leave him alone!" The medic got up and charged, Megatron already anticipating this and grabbing the Autobot's fist. His other servo shot out and gripped his neck cables, hoisting him into the air. A brief, choked noise gurgled from Ratchet's throat, then he was tossed aside carelessly.

Jack scrambled back as silver claws reached for him, shouting in terror as he jumped between them and barely missed being snagged. A part of him said mistake, because enraging the warlord would only increase his pain, yet the primal instinct to avoid capture persisted. Megatron's hiss told him that he did indeed do the wrong thing. The human screamed when a shadow descended upon him at impossible speeds for its size, sharp digits closing around him in a cage.

"Do not make this any more difficult for yourself," Megatron growled, giving him a light squeeze for good riddance. Jack keened as painful pressure was applied to his entire body, threatening to crush his ribs and collapse his stomach. His body was left aching when the tyrant finally relaxed, Ratchet struggling up to his pedes with fire in his optics.

"What are you doing with him?" He barked. "Let him go, Megatron!"

"I have found that the organic will be much useful elsewhere," was the reply, Jack gazing at the medic with terrified eyes. Helpless to try and fight, Ratchet resorted to begging.

"You don't have the means to keep him alive, Megatron," he said, very much speaking the truth. "Humans are fragile, and it is frighteningly difficult to put one back into homeostasis after taking them out. I will tell you something, anything, if you would just let him go . . ."

"Ratchet, no!" Jack squirmed and reached through the small space between Megatron's digits. "Don't!"

The warlord merely gave Ratchet a cold expression. "I have no interest in what you have to say to me at this time, medic." He gnashed his denta. "My only concern is this human and its usefulness. Of which you are not a part of."

"No!" In a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable Ratchet lunged forward, reaching for the servo which held his temporary charge. Jack cried out as the claws curled tighter around him, barely slipping his arm out just in time to avoid getting it crushed. Megatron pulled his prize closer to his chest and sent out a pede, kicking the Autobot square in the chest and sending him smashing into the wall again. With a painful clash of metal Ratchet crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain and rasping for Megatron to stop, to let Jack go.

Ignoring his pleas Megatron glanced down to ensure he had not accidentally crushed the human, satisfied when he saw a pair of terrified eyes staring back at him. Jack whirled from the tyrant's gaze to find Ratchet, watching the medic struggle back to his pedes. The servo which held him jostled ever so slightly as Megatron began taking steps back, his optics never leaving Ratchet. Desperation colored the Autobot's face when the sterling titan crossed the threshold.

"Jack!"

"Ratchet!" The human extended his arm out as if to grab the orange servo which reached for him, the door closing between them with a cold snap.