Author's Note: Knight, Havoc and Catastrophe belong to ChaosKnight and I'm just borrowing them. And of course, Wide Spread Panic doesn't own the Transformers, only a few OCs. Sorry for the long break between updates, I've been busy with a new project.
And on that note, I'm posting a poll on my Author's page and I'd greatly appreciate your responses. As always, my thanks to the readers. You guys rock!
Ch. 28: Welcome To the Jungle
Drift shivered, staring at the unknown femme that Wheeljack and Ratchet were tending. He was sure he'd never seen her before and yet it felt like he knew her. Something about her pulled him.
"It's got to be something like Skywarp's teleporting," Wheeljack muttered as the femme whimpered softly in pain, the sound wrenching his spark. "Of course we don't even know where or when we are. If she off-lines, we might be stuck here. We need energon."
"We don't have any energon," Ratchet growled, taking his irritation out on the engineer.
Drift took a step toward them and Wheeljack yanked his gun up, aiming at Drift's head. "Back off," he snarled warningly. "Decepticon." The last word was loaded with so much venom that it made Drift's spark seize.
"You couldn't understand what I've been through," Drift whispered. "I didn't have any choice."
"There's always a choice," Wheeljack snapped, optics narrowing.
"Wheeljack! Help me, you can argue later." Ratchet ground his dental plating together. "We might have to do an energon transfusion. We need her alive."
Drift watched the femme struggle weakly against them, too drained to understand that they were trying to help her. Scared and feeling alone among strangers. He knew that feeling only too well. "Take mine."
Both mechs looked up suspiciously at him. Drift could barely believe himself that he was offering to let them have him at their mercy only to save a femme he didn't even know.
Drift edged closer, keeping an optic on Wheeljack's gun and shoulder cannon. "Take the energon from me," he growled, holding out an arm to the medic.
It was hard to say exactly what if anything was going on in Blurr's over-charged processor. Joey certainly hadn't even realized their armor could come off, but as Red Alert attempted to tackle him, he shed the last bit of his armor. His codpiece.
Seated on top of Sideswipe's helm, Joey shrieked, covering her eyes. Why the hell would giant alien robots even need those?! She wondered frantically, her brain only too eager to supply the obvious answer.
"My eyes!" She hissed as Red Alert caught the youngling, tackling him to the ground with just a little too much overzealous enthusiasm. She pressed her face to Sideswipe's helm to block out the sight. "Why do you guys even have those?" She shrilled in horror.
Sideswipe swayed drunkenly and rumbled at the human on his head. "How the Pit ya think we interface?" He slurred laughing hysterically.
"Waaaay too much information!"
Behind them, Prowl looped an arm around Jazz's shoulders, trying to guide him back to the med bay. Maya flailed at him from where she was sprawled on his shoulder. "Hey, a little help here!" She yelled frantically.
Prowl glowered as he pried the female off of Jazz. "Oh joy," he grumbled. "Another human." He huffed softly at the dark-haired female, before stiffly passing her off to Bluestreak without a word.
She stared up at him, cringing as she sat in his palm. "Oh joy," she mimicked sarcastically after Prowl's retreating back as he led Jazz away. "Another alien butt-hole."
Megatron's silver feet made a soft beat on the corridor floor as he moved down the hall toward what had been the Constructicon's lab. The deranged medic had taken over the labs for her own unholy experiments. Most of the lighting along the corridor had been shattered or blinked erratically; ragged claw-like scars marred the wall where Cybertronian fingers had gouged into the metal. The damage became steadily worse the closer he got to the labs, caused during one of the medic's uncontrollable fits no doubt. His optics narrowed as loud, unstable laughter reached his audios. The femme was singing.
"Yes, it's true that I believe I'm weaker than I used to be…"
He raised his hand to knock and scowled. It was his base, by Primus and he didn't have to knock. He keyed the door open, snarling at the mess that had transformed the lab. She'd been raiding the Constructions' stores.
"I've got a disease deep inside me, makes me feel uneasy," she crooned and he glimpsed her moving around a table that she had taken the legs off and tilted upright. A monstrosity of spare parts was strapped to the table. A thing without a face, its entire faceplate peeled off and its inner workings bared. A chill ran through him. He had taken lives in his time in the arena to survive, but her cold callous indifference was disturbing. "You taste like honey, honey."
She half-turned seeing him and she bared her dental plating at him in a grin. "How's your progress?" He snarled, fighting not to shudder and show weakness. Her crazed purple optics flared in amusement.
"Yesssss, we're getting somewhere," she purred, flexing her clawed fingers. She reached up, scraping her claws against her helm with a rending scraping sound. "I've almost got iiiiiiit."
Megatron stifled a growl. "You'd better have."
He saw her shoulders go slack, her wing panels scissoring upright. Her optics flared brightly as she rumbled and purred loudly. He snarled at her, backing away and leaving the lab. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he couldn't stand to look at her.
"Yes, I am, I hope you think you've beaten me. Hope I start talking crazy before you understand me," he heard her singing from behind him. "Sunshine, you're the best time I've ever ever had…"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Optimus eyed Kup as the older mech's optics twitched. Optimus knew he shouldn't laugh. It was unprofessional and disrespectful, he silently told himself. That didn't make it any easier not to, though. The old war-dog's lips were pulled back in a snarl, his entire frame rigid. The older mech had four femme younglings Optimus didn't recognize clinging to him, while Arcee attempted to keep two of the femmes from swatting at each other across the battle-hardened mech. A little ways behind them and looking slightly traumatized were Brawn and Windcharger.
One of the femmes shrieked softly, detaching herself from Kup to tackle another femme. The other two youngling femmes watched disinterestedly, shrinking back against Kup and clinging to him.
Kup shivered, grinding his dental plating. Optimus shook his head slightly. He had the sinking suspicion that life aboard the ark was about to get a little more interesting.
Optimus? Prowl's anxious voice cut in on his internal comm. I cannot locate Ratchet or Wheeljack. Anywhere.
Drift ground his dental plating as Ratchet removed the outer armor panels on his forearm, baring his sensitive proto-armor. He tensed as a long, thin bladed appendage extracted from one of the medic's arm panels.
"Why are you doing this?" Ratchet demanded as Drift's optics locked unwaveringly on the blade, watching the way the sun glinted along its edge. He knew distinctly in a corner of his mind that the scalpel was forged of a metallic compound that would effortlessly slice through his proto-armor.
"I want to," he replied slowly.
Ratchet's optics gleamed menacingly. "This won't buy you redemption." The medic warned softly.
"I don't expect it to." Drift dimmed his optics as the blade touched his metal flesh. The medic wasn't going to disable his pain sensors, he realized in horror. His dental plating bit into his bottom lip as the metal blade gently cut into him with slow clinical detachment. He shuddered, fighting to not make a sound of pain.
He squinted as Wheeljack slid his hands under the femme's thin frame, maneuvering her closer to Drift and Ratchet. Ratchet seized his wrist, yanking it in front of the femme's face. She shuddered as he watched and her mismatched optics brightening as she scented the energon. He winced as one of her hands shot out to curl around his wrist and tug it toward her. His optics paled as her mouth closed around the cut, hungrily pulling in energon and he growled softly at the unsettling sensation.
The little femme whimpered softly, scooting closer to him and grabbing onto him with both hands. The antenna-like appendages on the sides of her helm folded back submissively. There was something so innocent and tentative about the femme that Drift started to reach out to her to soothe her before he caught himself.
"What's her name?" He asked raggedly, not looking at the other two mechs.
