Title: Went Too Far
Fandom: largely Transformers G1 with blink-and-you'd-miss-it references to other continuities
Author: FuziPenguin
Pairing/Characters: Lots of mechs make an appearance, but the main ones are: Optimus, Jazz, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Wheeljack, First Aid, Prowl, Ironhide, and Bluestreak. There are no real pairings, but there is a nebulous relationship between Ratchet and the Twins that I purposefully left ambiguous. My Ratchet can fight, but usually chooses or is ordered to not do so.
Rating: R
Word Count: ~14,000 broken up into 3 parts
Summary: They don't know what changed, but this time the Decepticons went too far.
Warnings: Dark Fic, folks! Mentions of torture, rape, extreme violence. Present Tense. Changing POV, including omniscient POV. There are occasional unimportant OCs.
A/N: written for LJ's dragonqueen22's fic trade suggestion: A fic where something happens to Ratchet and all the Autobots go berserk on the Decepticons. Writers keep hinting that Megatron doesn't dare touch Ratchet because it would piss off the bots but no one ever writes it. I want to see it, darn it!
- I hope I managed to do the prompt justice; I don't write a lot of dark fic and I'm not the best action writer - apologies ahead of time.
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.


"What happened to Ratchet, Sideswipe?"

The warrior stills the slow wringing of his hands and looks up. Optimus barely suppresses the reflex to take a step back at the despairing look in Sideswipe's optics. Beside Optimus, Wheeljack shifts uneasily.

"Don't you mean to ask, what didn't happen?" Sideswipe asks, his hands falling to his lap. His gaze follows, and he watches his freshly scrubbed fingers clench and release in a rhythmic pattern. For a long moment, everyone in the room is mesmerized by the tremors in the normally steady hands. Then Wheeljack stirs, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the treatment bay.

"Sides… we need to know what wounds he's sustained. 'Aid's stabilizing the obvious injuries, but…" Wheeljack trails off as Sideswipe shakes his head.

"He'll live," Sideswipe interrupts. "They made me watch. I know that he'll live." Sideswipe's voice strengthens on the last word, almost as if he's taking comfort in it.

"What did they do, Sideswipe?" Optimus asks, trying to keep his voice low and soft. He wants to shake the warrior, make him speak every detail of the torture they put one of Optimus' oldest friends through. Because it was torture, there is no mistake about that.

Sideswipe's twin takes a step closer to his brother; Sunstreaker warily watches Optimus as if Sunstreaker can read the Prime's thoughts.

"I expected questions. They always ask the stupidest questions!" Sideswipe chuckles, shaking his head. His optics are still fixed on his hands.

"But they didn't. Ask any questions, I mean. Of either of us. They came to me first, to try and make me scream, to try and make me beg." Sideswipe absently leans back at the rumbling growl that emerges from Sunstreaker at Sideswipe's narration. The growl subsides a little as Sideswipe's back touches Sunstreaker's chestplates.

"I wouldn't. I mean, come on. They weren't even trying." Sideswipe momentarily looks up, shrugging with a lopsided grin.

"Then they started in on Ratchet. And at first, it was just a little kicking and punching. But they still weren't asking any questions, and he's part of command! I thought for sure they would pump Ratchet for information. But no. They just… they just hurt him."

Sideswipe's voice wavers. "They hurt him. And they said that if I begged, if I asked nicely, they would stop. They were playing us against each other, I know they were. But Ratchet's not built for that kind of pain, not like Sunny and me; I don't think Ratchet's been tortured like that before, if ever. So I begged.

"I begged. I screamed for them. They wouldn't stop!" Sideswipe peers up at Optimus with wet, wide optics, searching his leader's face for signs of reassurance. Optimus can only nod at Sideswipe to continue while trying to calm his own churning tanks.

"StopGap knew what he was doing; they strung him up and took out all his relay motors from the waist down. They made sure he couldn't move, because Ratchet kept getting in some good kicks. They broke his legs first because of that, I think; crushed his feet and melted out the joints of his knees.

"Then they turned up his sensory net and began peeling back his plating. Ratchet's a tough mech," Sideswipe says, "but they got him to scream at that."

Optimus finds himself shaking and clenches his fists at his side to try and stop the tremors. He doesn't want to hear anymore. But he has to take Sidewipe's report; fleeing is not an option.

"Optics were next. They turned up the sensitivity there too and then dripped magnesium phosphate onto them," Sideswipe says, his voice gone emotionless in remembrance.

"They kept promising they were going to show him a good time. Show him what it was like to be had by a Decepticon. I really didn't think they were going to go that far, I really didn't. But when they finished taking off the majority of his plating, they began lining up to rape him," Sideswipe reports. "They all took a turn at him. Again and again, and…" Sideswipe closes his optics and sags a little. "They took his valve. They took his spark.

"And they made me do it first," Sideswipe whispers, shuddering.

Wheeljack gasps, a sharp intake of sound, and Sideswipe flinches.

"I didn't want to. Of course I didn't want to," he babbles, suddenly leaning forward and faceplates earnest, desperate to be believed. "They said if I did it, they wouldn't kill him. They would put him back in his cell and would start in on me instead. And I could have taken it; I have taken it! Megatron had his cannon on Ratchet's spark so I said yes, and I… "

Sideswipe sags again, his eyes downcast. "I… I raped him. I raped Ratchet," he whispers, vocalizer breaking on every word. "I raped him, and then they still gave him over to any fragger who wanted him. I did what they wanted; I did everything they wanted!"

"I'm sorry," Sideswipe cries, optics darting from Wheeljack's faceplates to Optimus'. "I'm sorry! Please… I…"

Sunstreaker crowds against the edge of Sideswipe's berth and snakes an arm over his brother's shoulder to grasp him around the chest. He pulls Sideswipe back against him, and Sideswipe turns to hide his faceplates in the crook of Sunstreaker's arm, the yellow plating visibly rattling from Sideswipe's keens.

Sunstreaker is very careful to avoid the deep burns running vertically across Sideswipe's chassis. Optimus realizes now that they were not from any torture the Decepticons had submitted the warrior to. No, they were from Sideswipe pressing himself against the energy bars of his cell; pressing against them so hard, for so long, that the burns had penetrated almost to his protoform.

Optimus turns aside, his optics blindly staring into nothing. He does not blame Sideswipe. He sorrows for Sideswipe, for the things he had to witness and the things he had to do. There is great affection and trust between the twins and Ratchet. Optimus knows that Sideswipe will grieve deeply for breaking that trust.

Sunstreaker snarls something, and Wheeljack retreats with his lipplates pressed together tightly. His helm fins are dark, devoid of color. Optimus watches him leave the isolation room and mourns for the engineer as well.

Wheeljack bypasses Prowl out in the hallway, the second in command's sensory panels arched high and taut over his shoulders. He enters the isolation room and surveys the twins. Before he can speak, Optimus lays a hand on the tactician's shoulder. Optimus shakes his head at Prowl's inquiring look.

"Give him some time," Optimus says.

"I need information regarding…"

"I know," Optimus interrupts. "But not now. Give him some time."

Prowl takes a longer glance at the twins, at Sideswipe sitting with his knees tucked up against his chest as he makes quiet sounds into his brother's plating. The second in command's sensory panels dip a little before he turns back to Optimus with a nod.

"Very well. I will check on them later."

"Thank you, Prowl."

Prowl takes a step closer and lowers his voice. "Ratchet is heavily injured."

"Sideswipe said he will live."

Prowl's sensory panels flick. "Sideswipe is not a medic."

"No," Optimus replies, venting out a sigh. "But he knows what damage will result in offlining and what will result in maiming." He looks over to see Sunstreaker softly crooning something into Sideswipe's audio. Sunstreaker's optics are still locked on Optimus, and Prime nods once before gesturing for Prowl to proceed him out of the room.

Once in the hallway, Optimus shuts the door behind him and leans against it. "How many saw Ratchet as he was brought in?"

"Nearly half of the Ark. Few saw the full extent of his injuries, but you know how word spreads. Perceptor tells me that it will be quite a while before they can bring Ratchet back out of stasis. The longer he is out of the public eye, the more rumors will circulate. I worry about morale."

Optimus nods, frowning. "As do I. Ratchet means a great deal to many mechs. This was… this was an abominable act," he says, once more fighting down a surge of rage.

"Agreed. The Decepticons have captured Ratchet twice before through the war, and he was never harmed those times. Perhaps they are desperate. Disabling a medic …"

"But to do such a thing…" Optimus says, shaking his head. "Desperate or not, this is…"

"Perhaps we should call a truce and speak with Megatron. Despite Ratchet's incapacitation, we still have other advantages. This may be time to press for surrender."

Optimus nods. "I will call a meeting later to discuss this. Many of command are close friends with Ratchet, myself included. Let's give some time to let tempers cool."

"Understood." Prowl glances at the door to isolation one more time. "I will contact Smokescreen and ask him to visit Sideswipe once his injuries have been addressed."

"That may be best," Optimus says, thinking of Sideswipe's complete lack of normal composure. "I am going to check on Ratchet. I'll contact you later this evening."

Prowl nods, letting Optimus pass by. He enters the main medical bay and takes a place against the wall nearest the berth where Ratchets lays. First Aid and Perceptor are crowded around the berth, hands flying across Ratchet's mangled frame.

Wheeljack catches sight of Optimus and nudges First Aid. Ratchet's apprentice looks up and catches sight of Optimus; he says something quietly to Wheeljack, and the scientist takes 'Aid's place.

First Aid walks towards Optimus, wiping his hands clean of fluids with a rag. Up close, Optimus can see the tired slump to 'Aid's shoulders. Optimus reaches out and lays a hand on the apprentice's shoulder, and First Aid gives him a grateful look.

"How is he?" Optimus asks.

"He'll live. But the repairs will be extensive. I'm most worried about his knee joints and his optics. We'll have to fabricate both from scrap; his model is older than anything we have in the Ark's stock. But it shouldn't be too difficult, just time consuming. There was surprisingly little internal damage; his fuel pump and coolent systems are all intact."

"Sideswipe mentioned that Ratchet had been… violated," Optimus says as gently as he can. First Aid's shoulders slump even more, and he nods miserably.

"There is evidence of repeated penetration to his valve, but it is damage easily repaired. His spark chamber had been pried open, but his spark is healthy and strong. Physically, he'll be fine." First Aid trails off, looking down at his feet.

"Mentally, however, may be a different story," Optimus supplies as First Aid nods mutely.

"I just don't understand, sir," First Aid bursts out. "He's the best medic there is. He's even treated Decepticons before; he doesn't care about the insignia when it comes down to an injured mech. Why would they hurt him like this? It just doesn't make any sense!"

Optimus shakes his head and squeezes First Aid's shoulder again. "I don't know. We're going to try and figure that out. You're doing a great job, First Aid. Ratchet would be proud."

Shaking his head miserably, First Aid goes to turn. "This is not how I wanted to test myself."

"It never is. First Aid."

The apprentice turns to look inquiringly at Optimus.

"The command will be discussing the situation later this evening. We will likely require your presence to update us on Ratchet's condition."

First Aid fidgets in place a moment before drawing himself up and nodding. "Yes, sir. Just comm me as to when."

"I will. Let me know if there is anything you require."

"Yes, sir."

Optimus watches First Aid turn and walk back over to Ratchet's side. Wheeljack holds up a part and First Aid nods, leaning over Ratchet's open chestplates and pointing inside. Perceptor, Wheeljack, and First Aid all bend their necks, their helms nearly meeting over Ratchet's spark. Optimus smiles sadly to see the medic, inventor, and scientist all working together to repair their friend and comrade.

Ratchet had a temper and could be difficult to get along with at times, but everyone respected him for his skill and dedication to his field. And the mechs who had known him longest knew that deep inside that gruff exterior, Ratchet had a spark of gold.

Optimus shakes his head and ex-vents, pushing off from the wall. He has a conference call with some local officials that cannot be missed, but he vows to himself to visit the medical bay as soon as he is finished.

With one last nod to Wheeljack who looks up as Optimus passes by, the Autobot leader departs from the medical bay.


"Jazz. Can you tell us what happened on your end?"

The saboteur leans farther back in his chair. His fingers, laced and resting across his abdomen, make a single ripple motion before stilling. His visored helm tilts to the side just so as he locks gazes with Optimus.

"It ain't a pretty story, boss bot," Jazz says.

Optimus nods once. "I know. I have Sideswipe's version. But we will need your report to round out events. And Ratchet's when he is out of stasis."

"And Ratchet's, huh? Well, guess I'll start when ya sent me in for recon. It was easy enough to slip inside the Nemesis. A little too easy, I remember thinkin'. Soundwave was monitoring comms, but the rest of command was nowhere to be found. I did a brief search of the common areas, but couldn't find anyone there either. Finally, I headed down to their brig, to see what trouble our boys had gotten in to. Turned out to be a lot."

Ironhide is sitting across from Jazz and snorts bitterly at the third in command's words. "Ya think?"

Jazz continues on as if Ironhide hadn't spoken. "Nearly the entire Nemesis crew was packed into the brig. Now, their brig is set up a bit different from ours. They have some cells, sure, but they also have an… 'interrogation chamber'… which is pretty big, and right next to the cells. Ole Megs was presidin' in a corner, watchin' as the crew had their go at Ratchet. By the time I got there, most of the damage'd been done. Ratchet was strung up tight and from the looks of things, his motor relays had been cut, so he couldn't even struggle. But he could yell."

Jazz ducks his head, a wry smile sliding across his faceplates. "Could still cuss too. Think I picked up a few new ones."

The smile fades. "One of the few times I've seen the 'cons acting orderly. Oh, they were all hollerin' and jeerin', but they each had their turn and there was very little scrappin' about it. Guess it was the novelty of being allowed at the valve or spark of the Autobot CMO."

Someone makes a distressed sound; First Aid stands from his position in the chair that Ratchet normally occupied. The apprentice medic violently shakes his head as Smokescreen stands as well and whispers into Aid's audio. They finally both sink back into their seats, First Aid's expression tight.

"Who was present?" Prowl asks.

"Better question would be 'who wasn't'?" Jazz remarks, prompting Optimus to twitch. "Like I said, Sounders was at the comms, and I didn't see any of his bitlets around. Starscream wasn't there either, surprisingly. Nor the rest of his trine. Other than that, the entirety of the crew was there, either in the room or waitin' their turn out in the halls. It was a Pit of a time gettin' in there, I tell ya. Good thing they always forget to guard the ducts," Jazz says, grinning sharply.

"Where was Sideswipe in all of this?" Red Alert asks, suspicion coloring his tone.

Jazz's smile fades. "Locked up, Red. He had no part in this," Jazz says, his visor dimming as he looks straight at the Security Director. "He was cussin' as much as the Doc was, screamin' at them to leave Ratch alone. Mech's armor was a mess, cuz he kept throwin' himself against the energy bars. Even managed to snag one of the 'cons who wandered too close. Sides ripped out that one's main energon line in a spark beat. But it didn't get him anywhere; just more distance between the bars and the 'cons."

"But it was Sideswipe's fault that Ratchet was captured in the first place," Red Alert states reproachfully.

A low murmur spreads through the room, and Ironhide shifts in his seat, glaring at Red. Optimus reaches out a hand and places it on the Weapons Specialist's shoulder before the large mech can speak.

"Sideswipe was injured. Ratchet was tendin' him. Ratchet coulda waited for Sides to be brought back to the bay, but he was already so far out in the field after treatin' Brawn that Ratchet probably decided to just take a look there. Wasn't anybody's fault, Red," Jazz says, voice level and even. The entire room hears the warning within nevertheless.

Red Alert makes a humming sound and settles back in his seat, obviously not impressed with Jazz's reasoning.

"Doesn't Sunstreaker and Sideswipe normally stick together?" First Aid tentatively asks.

"That is correct," Prowl answers, turning to face First Aid. "They act as a cohesive and formidable unit because of their spark link. However, prior to Sideswipe's injury, Sunstreaker had engaged Thundercracker which led to Sunstreaker ending up on the opposite side of the battlefield. Sideswipe and Ratchet were technically behind the Decepticon line when they were captured."

"They were pretty fragging far behind the line," Ironhide rumbles.

"Exactly!" Red Alert is quick to jump on the fact. "Ratchet never ventures that far afield. But for one of his pets, he'll do just about anything!"

"Red Alert!" Optimus says, his voice ringing out over the rest of the group. The Security Director falls silent at the glint in the Prime's optic.

"Red Alert," Optimus repeats, vocalizer softening in volume. "An error was made; there was no plot behind it. At this point, I can see no blame to be placed unless you want to have a word with Luck."

"Sideswipe blames himself," First Aid announces, and all helms swivel to look at the mech who spoke after Optimus. The medic apprentice squirms under the attention.

Nodding, Smokescreen pats First Aid's closest hand. "That is true. He has not said as much, but he has refused medical treatment."

Optics widening in concern, Optimus leans forward as First Aid continues.

"His burns are not life threatening at this time, although they are very painful. However, it will not take long for them to erode further and send rust deep into his internals. At first I let treatment lapse, because…" First Aid looks sheepish.

"You were understandably worried about your mentor," Optimus finishes. "It's all right."

"No! No, it isn't!" First Aid says, his helm shaking in the negative. "Wheeljack told me what he said!" he cries, meeting Optimus' optics. "I was glad he was hurting!"

First Aid's helm hangs, and he presses his hands against his mask as a small keen escapes. "I let him sit there in pain… until I realized that Ratchet would never do that. He would have turned right around and treated the Decepticons who had raped him!"

As Optimus settles back into his seat with a grave expression on his faceplates, the others look from their Prime to the acting CMO.

"What is he going on about, Prime?" Ironhide asks as Smokescreen slides an arm over First Aid's shoulders and speaks to him lowly.

"It is a matter not necessary for this discussion," Optimus finally replies. Off to the side, Jazz nods, a finger thoughtfully tapping the edge of his visor.

"I'm a horrible medic," First Aid moans softly in reply to something Smokescreen had said.

"You are a quite capable medic, First Aid," Prowl interjects before Optimus can. "Everyone has lapses in judgment."

"The point is, you eventually offered treatment to Sideswipe, did you not?" Optimus asks.

"Yes," First Aid reports, his optics still downcast. "He barely looked at me. And Sunstreaker is backing him up. For now, at least. I believe he wants his brother treated, but is abiding by Sideswipe's wishes. I told them both what will eventually happen. A few more hours as Sideswipe's pain worsens, and I think we'll have Sunstreaker's assistance, no matter what Sideswipe wants."

"You want him treated, you just comm me, 'Aid," Ironhide grunts. "I'll hold 'im down for you."

"We do not want to betray Sideswipe's trust, Ironhide. But thank you for the offer," Optimus says.

"Want me to keep goin'?" Jazz asks as the conversation lulls.

"Yes, please," Prowl says, gesturing for the third in command to continue.

"Well, soon as I had assessed, I reported back to Blaster and he relayed the info on. Blaster got back on the line not long after and told me to sit tight and wait for extraction."

"We elected for an assault verses an exchange," Prowl informs the group, looking at each individual before moving on to the next. "Based on Jazz's information and position, it was a better probability that a distraction would be more successful."

"It was a good plan, Prowler," Jazz reports, ignoring the tactician's twitch at the annoying nickname. "Once the alarm went off, it was a bottleneck as everyone tried to leave the brig. I swear more 'cons got hurt in the confusion than anythin'. Everyone left the brig but Hook and StopGap, and they were easy enough to disable. I shut down the bars on Siders' cage, and he helped me undo Ratchet's bonds. We basically went out the back as everyone else went out the front. It took some time to get some distance between us and the Nemesis; then we called for Skyfire to come pick us up. The rest ya pretty much know: once back at the Ark, Sides and Ratch were brought into medbay."

"First Aid, could you tell everyone what you told me earlier as well as any updates?" Optimus asks.

Calmer now, First Aid complies, and as they listen to his report each mech present reacts differently. Optimus exudes an air of resigned sadness. Ironhide vibrates with anger and shock. Prowl's sensory panels shiver and arch high even as his faceplates remain blank. Smokescreen is visibly shaken. Jazz, who has perhaps the most experience with interrogation and torture, is quiet and still. When First Aid finishes, all gathered are silent.

"'Cons made a big mistake," Jazz finally says, shaking his head. His visor is dim, and he is staring at his hands resting on the table's edge.

"Frag yeah they did!" Ironhide erupts, his fist pounding on the surface of the table. "Ratchet is too valuable to be… to be… used… like that. We would have traded a lot to get him back. Doesn't make sense!"

"No, it doesn't," Prowl says, nodding. "The best conclusion is that they hope to unsettle us, demoralize the crew, and then attack while we are still reeling. As I said before, First Aid is quite capable, but the loss of a skilled set of medical hands after a long and difficult battle could be disastrous. We need to be careful about what we say to the crew in regards to Ratchet's condition."

"I think we need to tell them everything," Jazz says suddenly, and all optics once again turn to him.

"I'm not sure that is wise…" Optimus tactfully begins.

"They want to come at us? I say let them come. They think they've seen our capabilities before? Well, they ain't seen nothin' yet. Every member of the Ark is gonna to be shocked at first, yeah. But they're gonna get over that quick, and then they're gonna want some payback. And it ain't gonna be pretty," Jazz says, a dark, predatory grin flashing over his lip components.

Ironhide rumbles approvingly, nodding. "I think ya got a good idea there, Jazz."

Frowning, Prowl shakes his head. "Prime, I do not think…"

"I'm not sure we're thinking clearly," Optimus says, holding up a hand for silence when everyone begins speaking at once. "Some of this information is personal. You must think about how Ratchet will feel when he arises from stasis to find that every mech in the Ark knows how he was mistreated. Many will not be able to view him the same as before."

Jazz looks taken back for a moment, then thoughtful. "Yeah, ok. I can see that. We can leave out the rape bits, but the rest…"

Optimus leans back in his seat, a trouble expression on his faceplates. "How do you suggest distributing this information, Jazz?"

"Hold an assembly. Down in Loading. It's big enough for all of us. Red'll be up in Security so we'll have optics on the perimeter. Won't be a long meetin' anyway."

"This could go either way," Prowl says, shaking his head. "There is an equally good chance that the Ark members will be so demoralized that they will be easily overcome in an attack."

Jazz begins shaking his head. "No. No, Prowl, you're wrong. Some of 'em, yeah, maybe. But we're a tight knit group. And to injure one of our own, especially a noncombatant? They'll be callin' for revenge before Optimus is even done talkin'."

"And then what?" Red Alert scoffs. "We get everyone ramped up and then what? We launch an assault on the Nemesis and offline every Decepticon we run across?"

"Why not?" Jazz retorts. "They're obviously not interested in peace if they're rippin' apart a medic who would just as soon help them than not."

"Our goal is peace with the Decepticons, not their annihilation," Optimus says softly. "And to manipulate the crew such – how would we be any better than the Decepticons?"

Jazz locks optics with Optimus. "Sometimes… Sometimes ya gotta be a bad guy to be a good guy."

"I am not willing to let things go that far." Optimus holds up a hand as Smokescreen and Ironhide both lean forward, opening their lip components. "I believe that it is necessary to put a stop to any rumors going around in regards to Ratchet's condition. But I cannot condone retaliation. Prowl is right. The Decepticons may be desperate; they may have seen an opportunity to even the playing field. We will try negotiations first and ask for their surrender," Optimus says, finishing firmly.

"Yer too soft-sparked, Prime," Ironhide protests. "This is Ratchet!"

"This is more than just Ratchet," Optimus replies. "Prowl, when would be the best time and place to arrange negotiations?"

"Soon," Prowl promptly replies. "Tomorrow at the latest. I will have to evaluate gathering places, but we can contact Megatron with our intent as soon as this meeting concludes."

"Find a meeting place," Optimus instructs. "I will contact Megatron. After we speak, we can call for an assembly and lay to rest any rumors about Ratchet."

Ironhide looks disappointed, but nods his agreement. Jazz's faceplates are carefully blank, his visor dim while Prowl is already busy with a data pad. Red Alert begins muttering to himself about camera angles.

First Aid tentatively raises a hand and speaks when Optimus nods at him. "Then we can disperse? I'd like to check on Ratchet and Sideswipe."

"Go," Optimus instructs. "Keep us updated."

"Of course," the medic says, nodding. He quickly leaves, and Smokescreen moves to follow.

"About a joor?" Ironhide gruffly asks, also standing. "That should be right around shift change."

"That should be a sufficient amount of time," Optimus says. "We will have a ship wide announcement. Are they any other questions?"

Silence greets him, and Optimus nods. "Then I will see everyone shortly."

As the room empties, Jazz stands and moves towards Optimus as he gains his feet.

"Prime…" the saboteur begins.

Optimus raises his hands, palm outwards to forestall any arguments. "We are better than they are," he says.

"Yeah, sure," Jazz agrees easily. "I just think that Megatron believes that as well." With that final parting shot, he saunters out of the room, leaving Optimus to stare with a frown at where the saboteur had stood.