Title: Five Times the Hatchet

Author: Gixxer Pilot

Summary: '5 Times' fic. Offhand, everyone knew there was five times during which Ratchet lived up to his nickname, but there was only one time he forgot The Hatchet ever existed.

Author's Notes: I've wanted to try one of these 'Five Times' fics for quite some time, and even though I know they're gratuitously overdone, I can't help it. It sounded like fun. Plus, I also wanted to prove to myself that I do, somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain, possess the ability to write something short. And by 'short', I really mean chapters of two pages or 1000 words or less, which is short for me. Not sure I made it, but it was worth the shot. The events go in chronological order, though I'm sure you all would have figured that out. Unbetad, but spell checked by me. I'm sure there's errors. If you see any, let me know. Lord knows I suck at proofreading. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Transformers. I don't even have any fan stuff other than what I write. They're not mine. Don't sue.

Chapter 1: Megatron

He might be a sarcastic, slightly belligerent pain in the processor, but if there was one thing Ratchet wasn't ever going to be, it was a Decepticon.

Now, he just needed to convince Megatron of that fact.

Cybertron had been teetering precariously on the brink of war for longer than Ratchet cared to remember, though he never thought it would hit so close to home. Shaking his head, Ratchet mentally kicked himself for literally walking into such a thinly veiled trap. He really should have seen it coming, for it was such a simple plan, it was almost ludicrous. Megatron wanted to raise an army, and an army meant causalities. Causalities meant he would need medics, and that was a service Ratchet was qualified to perform.

As he lay sprawled on the dirty floor, bored out of his processor, Ratchet mused that Megatron's methods of persuasion left a lot to be desired. Up until this particular moment, he'd done his damndest to stay neutral. Part of the reluctant pacifism that lurked in his processor always screamed at him to be careful to never pick sides, that joining the impending war was a first-class ticket straight to the pit itself. He was always willing to help either faction, but after this, Ratchet swore he was going to march straight into Autobot headquarters and sign up. That little promise to himself was of course contingent upon the ability to make it out with his paint still attached to his chassis, however.

He didn't understand why so many educated and sentient mechs fawned over Megatron and his pointless dithering. Having met the Decepticon leader face to face, Ratchet decided the hype surrounding the working class' leader was overstated to a level that could practically be considered criminal.

Simply put, Megatron was an idiot.

Ratchet cycled his vents in weary agitation as he heard the heavy footsteps of the gargantuan mech approaching the interview room. The door swung open and two service drones ambled their way inside. They grabbed Ratchet by his arms from either side and hauled him roughly to his feet.

Megatron entered, sitting calmly on a crushed piece of rock that was supposed to double as a chair. The red glow from his optics stood out against the dark of the room. "Have you come to your senses yet, insect? I will have troops that are going to need your…expertise."

Ratchet was defiant, doing his best to look and sound bored. "I trained as a medic as a fallback from my career in diplomacy, and thanks to you, mechs like me aren't needed any more. If we could get what we want by force, don't you think some other moron would have come along and done it already?'

Megatron said nothing, instead picking at one large claw. The tightening of his jaw told Ratchet he'd struck a nerve. A low growl emitted from the vocalizer of the larger mech. "You are a brave one. Brave, but foolish." Smiling in a sick, feral manner, Megatron added, "It is of no consequence to me what you choose. The end result is the same."

This time, Ratchet couldn't stop himself from physically rolling his optics. "If my choice didn't matter to you, you wouldn't be on your fifth attempt to 'convince' me to join your cause. You. Care." The former ambassador turned medic punctuated his words with one yellow finger jabbing the air in Megatron's direction.

"I could force you."

"You could try," Ratchet fired right back. "I don't waste my talents on those with rocks in their processors. It's not worth my time, or my effort."

With a roar, Megatron leapt forward, sending both service drones flying across the room, and wrapped his claws around Ratchet's neck. Using the full advantage of his superior bulk, the Decepticon leader was simply able to overpower the smaller mech. He leaned in so their noseplates were nearly touching before saying in a soft, deadly voice, "You have two choices now, medic: you can join my cause, or you can die. And when I say it's of no consequence, I really do mean it this time."

Ratchet looked up into the smug smile and the blood red optics. Reaching one hand around to the base of Megatron's helm, his fingers danced across the plating until he found the seam he wanted. "And the advantage of being a medic and having a working processor that's not overrun by corrupt data is that I remember a thing or two about anatomy. Things that are useful for incapacitating another mech."

With one twist of his fingers, Ratchet flicked a couple of sensors along Megatron's protoform. The sensors the medic deactivated, the Decepticon leader belatedly realized, where the ones that controlled the motor function in his limbs. Able to move his head but nothing else, Megatron could only curse as Ratchet lithely slid out from underneath.

Standing above the prone Decepticon leader, Ratchet growled, "I could offline you right now, and there's nothing you could do about it."

Snarling, Megatron answered, "Then do it! Do it!"

Ratchet leaned down and placed his hands on Megatron's chest, cracking the chassis open to reveal the silver mech's spark chamber. The medic brushed his fingertips across it and balled his fist up, raising it high above his helm. Chuckling, Ratchet pulled his hand down to his side right as Megatron thought he was ready to strike.

"I'm no Decepticon. I'm no murderer. I just wanted you to know that I'm better than you, in every way you can imagine." Standing, Ratchet stepped over Megatron, pushed the service drones out of the way, and walked smoothly out the door.