Misgel: Don't worry everyone, this fanfiction is still alive! In fact, with this update, we are entering the final chapters.
They didn't kill him. Normally Ratchet would be surprised. Megatron must have been truly desperate.
His obsession in restoring Cybertron—and conquering the Earth—must have overwhelmed his rational thinking. He wanted to accelerate the construction of the Omega Lock as much as possible, even if it meant recruiting an Autobot prisoner. Ratchet suspected that wasn't the only reason.
Megatron was well aware that the medic was Optimus's oldest and closest ally. Ratchet was one of the few individuals that knew him before his Primacy, when he was still the data clerk Orion Pax. Ratchet had even campaigned with the young idealist against Zeta Prime's authoritarian regime. So not only was he a useful slave, but he was also Megatron's biggest bargaining chip against Optimus Prime.
The realization hurt Ratchet's pride. Reduced to a tool used by Decepticons.
So he found himself in the confines of the main laboratory, trapped between Shockwave and a grumbling Knock Out. There were a handful of drones loitering about, aiding in the assembly line designed to create the cybermatter at an efficient rate. It was working. There was already a cart full of cubes containing the substance, ready for transport. It wouldn't be long now.
It filled Ratchet with panic. He didn't have much time. He needed to stop the Decepticons before they succeeded with their diabolical plan. But in his current situation, that was impossible. He would need a miracle.
One that came much sooner than he expected.
"Shockwave."
Ratchet jumped at the gruff sound of Megatron's voice, whirling around to face the tyrant. Only to find the barbarian on a nearby monitor rather than being actually in the room. Instantly Shockwave walked over to properly converse with his leader.
"Yes, my liege?"
"What is the status of our production of cybermatter?" Megatron demanded.
"It is progressing as predicted, Lord Megatron."
"Good. It is time we proceed to the next phase."
Ratchet stiffened at that. Next phase? What was that? He increased his audio sensitivity as he feigned to be working on prepping the next batch of Cybermatter.
"The subject is not yet ready," Shockwave argued. "We are only in the beginning phases of testing—"
"We must move swiftly!" Megatron interrupted impatiently. "Now that we have the necessary amount of cybermatter and construction of the Omega Lock is nearly complete, we only need the youngling to power it."
Youngling? Did he mean…
"My lord, I must inform you that significant stress could result in permanent damage. Perhaps even termination."
"Then let us hope that young Rafael is strong enough to complete his task."
Instantly Ratchet's frame seized with terror and his spark stopped cycling in its chamber. They were going to…
No.
"...As you wish, Lord Megatron," Shockwave finally conceded. "I will begin the preparations."
"Excellent."
Megatron's lips curled into a satisfied smirk, the last image that Ratchet saw before the screen went blank.
The medic hadn't even realized he had stopped his work as the revelation cycled through his processor. They were going to use Rafael as the power source for the Omega Lock. Impossible. They couldn't possibly expect a youngling—
"Knock Out," Shockwave called, interrupting Ratchet's spiraling thoughts. The medic glanced up from the vials he was sorting as the scientist ordered, "Supervise our guest in my absence."
With that, Shockwave lumbered out of the lab, only for Knock Out to roll his optics once the doors clicked close.
"Wow, thanks for the big vote of confidence," the mech drawled. "What am I, a babysitter?"
While Knock Out complained, Ratchet's spark was filled with horror. That was Megatron's play. He didn't need the cybermatter for the Omega Lock. He needed Rafael.
He would ensure that the Omega Lock would fire. Even if it meant Rafael's life. Ratchet needed to make his escape, and now.
Glancing at Knock Out, Ratchet saw that the red mech's back was turned to him. He was still sorting through vials, or rather, grumbling under his breath. The other drones occupying the lab were crowded on the other side of the room. Leaving him alone.
Ratchet quickly scanned his immediate surroundings. There had to be some way for him to cause a distraction. His gaze fell on the centrifuge situated in the center of the table. Then he had an idea.
Giving his captors one last glance to confirm they were distracted, he activated the centrifuge and turned it to max speed. The machine whirred to life. Without the protective covering, it looked like the turbine of an engine. Ready to suck up any object that came too close.
Without hesitation, Ratchet snatched a pepit laying across the table and tossed it into the spinning machine.
The reaction was instantaneous.
There was a terrible grinding noise as the centrifuge tore the device apart, sending sparks flying into the air. With its balance compromised, the machine began to wobble. It only took a few seconds before it became too much for the centrifuge to bear. It burst into flames.
Ratchet just barely managed to dodge the explosion of fire and debris, raising a servo to shield his faceplates.
Knock Out's startled squawk echoed through the lab, "For the love of—what is happening?!"
The medic's optics went wide and bright as headlights. Smoke began billowing from the ruined centrifuge, quickly filling the confined space.
Ratchet tried his best to fill his voice with panic as he spoke, "The formula's instability! It must have caused a chain reaction!"
Thankfully Knock Out needed no further explanation, backing away from the black smoke as he raised a servo to his helm.
"Guards!" he shouted into his com-link. "Help me extinguish this inferno before it scorches the project. And my finish!"
Almost instantly, the lab doors opened with a hiss, only for the rushing guards to recoil when they were greeted with a wall of smoke. Ratchet didn't hesitate.
He lunged towards the entrance, right at the squadron of baffled drones. Just before he barreled into them, he transformed into an ambulance. The Decepticons let out startled yelps as the vehicle sped past their pedes.
Using the rear-view mirror to glance at the chaos behind him, Ratchet sped down the halls. He only had one mission in mind: he had to find Rafael.
Megatron had to be keeping him confined somewhere. Ratchet last saw him with Jack and Miko, but he doubted that arrangement lasted long. If the medic was isolated from his fellow prisoners, it stood to reason that it was the same for Rafael. Shockwave mentioned that he was "testing" his subject. Did that mean Raf was in one of the labs?
Ratchet cursed. The Nemesis contained hundreds of compartments. It would be impossible to search them all. The Decepticons would catch up to him long before then. Once they did, they would drag him back to the lab, or terminate him for his troubles.
The old war veteran had no illusion that he would be able to hold his own against the Decepticons. He might be able to fend off a small squadron, but if they called for reinforcements, he would be easily overwhelmed. Worse, he could run into someone from High Command, or Primus forbid, Megatron himself.
Ratchet came to a realization: he could not save Rafael. Not on his own.
He needed the rest of the team.
He had to contact them, tell them what was happening. Warn them. And bring them aboard the ship.
They could no longer afford stealth. No. Their only option was an all-out assault to disrupt and dismantle the Decepticons' operation. And perhaps, end the war once and for all.
Ratchet skidded to a halt and transformed back to his bipedal mode. He scanned his surroundings, noticing a nearby console. If he could send a message to the Autobots and bring down the ship's shielding, they may have a chance. Steeling his resolve, the medic moved over to the work station.
Then he sent a transmission.
"Autobot base, do you read?"
Something was happening, Predaking knew that much.
The Faceless-Two-Walkers chattered excitingly. Some rushed back and forth through the grand corridors. More than once, a drone almost ran into the colossal Predacon and he had to step back from accidentally stomping on them. Whatever it was, it must have been important. Predaking heard whispers that some "project" was near completion. The O-me-ga Lock?
He did not know.
But what he did know was that the Autobot heathen was still alive. He could still smell it. Behind a closed door he could not access. Out of his reach.
It made Predaking seethe with rage. His long, deadly talons curled into fists. The Great-One explained why the Autobot needed to remain alive, that they needed him to restore their home to its former glory, but he could not help the desire to tear the blasphemer apart. But Lord Megatron had yet to allow him that privilege.
So Predaking was forced to wait, however long that may be. But he was growing restless. Just how much longer would it take?
Surely his Creator would know. Predaking had no doubt that he would answer his questions.
The self-proclaimed king stomped through the halls as Twinstrike and Lazerback dutifully followed him, remaining at a respectful distance. They turned a corner and the door to Shockwave's laboratory came into view. The Creator hardly left his lair, especially in recent days, working tireless to complete the Omega Lock. The Small-One should be with him, along with the Tiny-One.
Yet when Predaking walked through the parting doors, the purple form of his Creator was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was greeted by the startled Small-One, her little wings hiking up a bit as she eyed Lazerback and Twinstrike.
Yet she seemed relieved when her gaze turned to Predaking, sighing, "Oh, it's you."
"Where is the Creator?" Predaking asked, golden optics scanning the room. The Tiny-One was absent as well.
"You mean Shockwave?" The Small-One's expression soured, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't know. He came in a while ago, then he left. What did you need him for, anyway?"
"I must find him. Did he speak of where he was going?"
"Nope." The Small-One shrugged casually with a look of disdain. "Shockwave doesn't tell me anything."
"How typical," Lazerback snorted contemptuously as he looked around. "He is never around when you actually need him for something."
"It must be important, for the Creator to leave his work," Twinstrike commented, his optics landing on a console that was still lit up with strange symbols.
Predaking agreed, though it didn't stray him from his mission. But if the Creator was not in his lair, it would take time to track him down. And Predaking was impatient.
He followed Twinstrike's perplexed gaze, aimed at a monitor mounted on the wall. The Creator spent much of his time at the workstation, recording his findings and analyses. Perhaps, including his progress on a certain project. Predaking had an idea.
He stalked over to the console, raising a single talon. The keys along the station were so odd, lighting up at the faintest touch. Predaking had to be mindful of his strength, delicately stroking his claw along the console. Perhaps he would find his answer here.
Pressing a key, the screen changed. Rows of Cybertronian glyphs filled the monitor, floating around a picture of the large, abstract structure. The Omega Lock? It certainly didn't look like any lock that Predaking knew of. It appeared to be attached to the belly of the great-wingless-stone-monster. From what he could surmise, it was very near completion.
So did that mean their homeworld would be saved? The Predacons would live again? The Autobots would be vanquished?
Oh, if only Predaking could understand the foriegn glyphs. So much of it was nonsense to him. He was able to make out one phrase, something about "Synthetic Energon." He had heard that term before. A few Two-Walkers had discussed it amongst themselves. Predaking managed to make out that it was meant to be an alternative fuel source, providing the Decepticons an unlimited supply of power.
It all sounded… unnatural. Repulsive, even. Life-blood—energon—was all they needed. It flowed through Cybertronians, from one creature to the next. When one joined with the Well of Allsparks, they left their energon behind for the living. It was why the Predacons preyed upon others. To ensure the cycle would continue. And Predaking was willing to admit that there was no greater satisfaction than a successful hunt.
Despite the ancient ruler's misgivings, the Great-One insisted that they needed this "Synth-En," in order to complete the Omega Lock. It was the project he had tasked the Creator with, alongside the Autobot.
Yet as Predaking skimmed through the report, he frowned at the ending phrase: Formula completed.
If it was completed, then why had they been denied their vengeance?
Predaking continued to read on, determined to have his answers as the others milled about the lab, bored. There must have been a reason. He skimmed past rows of complicated equations and images of odd, spherical objects. The Great-King bared his crooked denta, frustrated as the answers were not forthcoming, tapping the keys with increasing aggressiveness. Ugh, why did the Two-Walkers make everything so complicated?
It continued on and on like that. From what little Predaking could understand, it seemed that the Synth-En was a key component in something called 'cybermatter'. Shockwave made a note, mentioning he didn't even know such a phenomenon was possible, until the destruction of the lab—
Predaking paused halfway through the transcript, blinking slowly. Destruction?
He typed in another command, this one taking him to yet another report. Now he found himself absorbing every word, his optics growing wider with each line.
All data has been successfully purged from the off-site laboratory. All facilities have been destroyed beyond recovery, preventing our technology from falling into Autobot custody. All subjects have been neutralized. Status of Project Predacon: terminated.
Terminated? Predaking's processor reeled. Lord Megatron had told him that nothing from the facility survived. This report seemed to confirm as such, but there were words that he did not understand.
The data was purged. But how could the Creator have a chance to erase his knowledge, if he was caught unawares? Why did he fear the eggs—the cloning pods—being found by the Autoobts? Why… why did he almost sound pleased?
That was not right! Lord Megatron promised that an entire legion of Predacons would soar through the skies of their homeworld!
Predacon went on to the next record, only for the inner fire in his breast to freeze. This one was a message, with a set of numbers attached. Coordinates, he realized, that led directly to the mountain that guarded Project Predacon. And it had been sent only moments before the Autobots' attack.
MIKO. SAFE FOR NOW. NOT MUCH TIME. DECEPTICON WEAPON ALMOST COMPLETE. PROVIDING COORDINATES. HURRY.
Miko… Where had he heard that strange designation before? It was so… unusual. Like the Tiny-One's designation, given to him by the Autobots, "Raf."
Then a memory came to the forefront of Predaking's mind. When the Little-One had approached him while he had shielded the Small-One with his great wings. Of how he had tentatively called out a strange name he could not make sense of. Yet the Small-One had answered his call.
She had answered to "Miko."
Predaking's frame went rigid. Miko. The Small-One was Miko. She sent this message to the Autobots. She was the one that summoned them to desecrate the legion.
She was the one that had betrayed him.
For a long moment, Predaking mere stood there, as the frozen flame sent ice coursing through his frame. Then, without warning, a heat began to build within him, growing hotter and hotter until it melted the frigidness away. Then he realized what this warmth was.
Fury.
Raw, unbridled fury.
It was then a deep, demonic growl erupted from Predaking's chest. Scorching heat radiated from his frame, he spun on his heel. His blazing golden optics fell upon the Small-One—on Miko.
The femme blinked with a small gasp at the sudden shift in his demeanor, flinching away from the scathing glare. On the other side of the room, Twinstrike and Lazerback had stiffened at their Great-King's distress.
"Predaking? W-what's wrong?" Miko, the traitor, whimpered, like a frightened hatchling.
"It was you," Predaking snarled, stalking forward like a ferocious beast. "You are the reason the Predacons were exterminated!"
Long, deadly talons took grasp of a table that blocked his path. Fueled by rage, he effortlessly tore it from its foundation and flung it across the room with a single servo. The contents that were meticulously placed upon it went flying in all directions, shattering as they impacted the floor. His audience jumped at the horrible noise, even recoiling as shards of glass scattered across the laboratory.
Miko jumped violently, staring up at Predaking with wide, terrified optics. She wondered what caused such a violent reaction in him. He blamed her for the death of his comrades? Why? Then she realized.
She was there. The Autobots, they had come for her. To capture her or destroy her, she wasn't sure, but she understood. The only reason they had found Shockwave's laboratory, found the Predacons, was because of her.
And when the fighting broke out, she did nothing. She couldn't stop the Autobots. She couldn't save the clones. Instead, she ran away with Shockwave.
Predaking had every right to be angry with her.
With nowhere to run, Miko pressed herself against the wall, shivering in the titan's menacing shadow, "I'm s-sorry. I—"
"—Plotted the attack!" Predaking accused. "You sent a message to the Autobots, telling them of the Predacons' location!"
"Wait, what?! No! No, I didn't!"
Even as she said the words, she knew her audience was not convinced. In the corner of her optic, she saw Lazerback and Twinstrike exchange shocked glances. Then they straightened with a glower.
"Then what is this?"
In a flicker of an optic, Predaking lashed out and seized the femme's upper arm. She squeaked at the crushing grip, sure he would leave a dent. However, she did not dare protest as the Predacon half-dragged, half-carried her towards the console. Then her gaze followed an accusing claw, pointing at a set of words stretching across the screen.
Words completely foreign to her.
"I… I didn't write this…"
"You were called 'Miko,' were you not?" Predaking pressed.
It was strange to hear her human name spoken in such a harsh growl. It sent shivers down her spinal strut.
"Y-Yes," she answered meekly. "But I… I couldn't have! I don't even have access to the console!"
"Nothing more than a lie to save your own hide!" Lazerback accused.
"It's true!" Miko quickly turned to Predaking, trying not to shy away from his vengeful optics. "I wanted to save the Predacons!"
"If you did not send the message, then who did?" Twinstrike demanded.
"I… I don't know!"
"We should feast upon her," Lazerback growled, taking a step forward. "She is as responsible as they are for the desecration of our brethren!"
"I didn't do it!" Miko's voice rose into a panicked shout. "I wouldn't! Not after all the times Predaking protected me! Especially rom Shockwave!"
Predaking's golden gaze narrowed. "Why would you need protection from ou rCreator?"
The femme stiffened at that. She glanced back and forth between the Predacons, quivering in their looming shadows. Gritting her denta, Miko turned her gaze down to the floor. She murmured something.
"What?" Twinstrike barked. "Speak up!"
"He hurts me," Miko repeated, louder than the first time, but still merely a timid whisper.
Predaking's optics widened at her accusation. The Creator had harmed her? Why? Was he not her protector? Why would she even say such a thing? Was it a ruse, like Lazerback believed?
The self-proclaimed king was about to say as much, but then he felt Miko's heat brushing against his. Rather than the scorching tenacity of her brazen personality, he could feel cold fear radiating from her frame. It was not surprising, considering her position, but...
Confused, he glanced down. Scanning Miko's quivering chassis, he could see numerous pale scars running across her abdomen. He saw glimpses of them before, but she always turned away before he could observe them. He always assumed that they were battle scars, but these were… different.
Some were long. Some were narrow. Some were wide. Yet each was one straight and precise. Almost… surgical.
But…
"Why would the Creator harm his own hatchling?" Predaking demanded.
"Hatchling? I'm his slave! He dissects me, he shocks me, he locks me up! She nearly screamed, looking up at Predaking with furious tears in her optics. "The only time he doesn't is when you're around!"
"He… dissects you?" Predaking repeated slowly, taking a moment to decipher the strange word.
"He rips me apart, just to put me back together again. Over and over and over."
At that, Miko curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her middle, hiding the numerous scars once again. Predaking's inner fire, roaring like an inferno with rage, subsided at the pitiful sight. She looked like a defenseless hatchling abandoned in its nest—confused and terrified. Certainly not like a malicious deceiver.
How could Predaking, as Great-King, lower himself to slaughter such a helpless creature? To go against generations of law?
...No.
He could not bring himself to do it.
"And what of our kin?" Lazerback snarled furiously. "When you had them ripped apart by the Autobots?
The angered Predacon reached out with his sharp, deadly talons, as if to slash them across the hatchling's hide. Predaking did not allow it. In the flicker of an optic, his own servo snatched his subordinate's wrist.
"Enough!" Predaking bellowed.
"What are you doing?!" Lazerback demanded, trying to wiggle free of his iron grip. "She has betrayed us!"
"I will not condone the murder of a hatchling!" Predaking snarled, his grip tightening as the other Predacon attempted to pull out of his vice.
"But she—"
"That is final." Golden optics narrowed dangerously. "Unless you wish to challenge me?"
Lazerback stilled, his own optics filled with primal fear. There were several tense moments as the pair of predators glared at each other. Finally the stalemate ended when Lazerback relented, averting his optics. Submitting to Predaking.
Twinstrike watched the exchange with a guarded gaze, standing at a safe distance in case fighting broke out between the two. It would not be the first time they quarreled over superiority. However, noticing Lazerback's quiet surrender, he visibly relaxed.
Yet Miko flinched when all three Predacons' turned their attention to her.
"If you did not send the message," Predaking began, his inner fire flaring once more. "Then who did?"
The Small-One said nothing, her optics glancing between them and the rest of the room. He saw her gaze linger on the console, which then narrowed as some sort of realization washed over her.
"Shockwave," she muttered lowly. "It must have been Shockwave."
"Lies," Twinstrike hissed viciously. "Why would our own Creator destroy us?"
"Considering Megatron is the only reason Shockwave can experiment as he pleases?" the Small-One continued on. "He'll do whatever to prove his loyalty. He did it because he was ordered to."
"You're saying our lord sought our destruction?" Lazerback gaped. "Why?"
"Well… since you beat living scrap out of me and Jack…" she pointed out, trailing off as she remembered the traumatic event. "Buckethead is scared of you, and anything like you."
For a long moment, Predaking stared at her, as if she spoke another language. Because it couldn't be true. But even as the ruler wanted to deny it, a cold realization crawled forth from the back of his mind. It was more than evident that the Small-One had no part of their brethren's demise—in fact, she desired the opposite.
But he remembered Megatron's eerily calm demeanor at the news. Predaking thought his fangs had curled back in a vengeful sneer, but what if it was a smile? Like a king that knew his victory was in hand.
A tyrant that knew he had destroyed his enemies.
A growl erupted deep from Predaking's chest.
"Megatron has betrayed us," he declared. He turned around to face his subordinates, his golden optics blazing with fury. The other Predacons mirrored his expression, armor fluffing out and wings unfurling in growing rage. "We will make the Great Deceiver pay for the injustice against us."
Raf's spark pounded with anxiety as he walked through the halls of the Nemesis. The gloomy, eerie atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bright fluorescent lights of the Autobot base. The military facility was always filled with noise, whether it was chatter, the grunts and yells of the soldiers, or the rev of engines. And no matter where Raf walked, there was always a comforting EM field against him.
Not here.
Not while he walked alone with Megatron. Uneasiness weighed his pedes, making it difficult to keep up with the dictator's long, confident strides. When before Megatron made an attempt to match the little one's pace, now he seemed not to care. It was like he was impatient to reach their destination, wherever they were headed. Raf was still unsure.
He had been with Miko when Megatron had entered Shockwave's lab, all but demanding that Raf follow him. He was reluctant to leave his friend's side, but he feared the tyrant's wrath even more so. Yet Megatron had not said a word since their departure. His field was reeled in close to his frame, so Raf could not read his emotions. The back of his helm didn't reveal anything, either.
It took several long seconds for the human-turned-Cybertronian to summon the courage to speak, but he failed to keep the tremor from his voice, "Wh-where are you taking me?"
"You will see for yourself soon enough," Megatron retorted in a low hiss.
Raf's jaw snapped closed after that. They continued their journey in silence, taking so many twists and turns that he had no idea where they were. That was until a familiar hum pressed against his processor. It steadily grew stronger and stronger, becoming so intense that Raf gripped his helm in the beginnings of a headache.
He had only felt this way once before—when he had been in the presence of the Omega Lock. Why was Megatron bringing him here? The Decepticon leader had mentioned they had nearly finished construction, but they couldn't have, not so soon?
Raf practically jumped out of his exoskeleton when the doors before them opened with a hydraulic hiss. The mutant found himself in the same hangar that Megatron had taken him before, except there were a couple differences this time. The central hatch that made up the floor was already open, revealing the Omega Lock beyond.
Though it didn't look exactly like the one on Cybertron, confirming it truly was a copy made of spare parts, the likeness was all too eerily similar. It gleamed under the light of the distant sun, giving it an oddly ethereal appearance. There was another detail Raf noticed. The Omega Lock was completely vacant of working drones.
There were other changes to the hanger.
The glass containers that lined the wall were now filled with a golden hue.
Raf blinked at the sight of them, gasping, "Is that…?"
"Indeed," Megatron confirmed, as if he already knew his question. "Cybernucleic acid, ready to be combined with Synthetic Energon in order to fuel the Omega Lock."
"All we require now is a power source," a deep, monotone voice reverberated.
At the sound of heavy pedes, Raf turned to see Shockwave leaving a nearby workstation near the pair. He stiffened as that singular optic bore into him. Megatron was leering at him, too, like he was an Iacon Relic. The former human's spark sunk in its chamber.
"But I—"
"You have made substantial improvements since your initial training," Shockwave droned on. "With your frame's integrity nearly restored, your current capabilities will be sufficient enough. The probability of you..."
The scientist came to an uncertain pause when Megatron's piercing red optics shifted to him. It was then Shockwave continued cautiously, "...sustaining permanent damage is low."
Raf just stared in confusion at his diagnosis, then he remembered, "You mean the seizure. Then don't you think—"
"Enough prattle," Megatron interrupted impatiently. "Cast your doubt aside, Rafael. The time has come. The rebirth of an entire world. Generations of Cybertronians will speak your name for eons to come."
Raf looked down at that, clutching at his arm. Shockwave had drilled him endlessly after his recovery, allowing breaks only to recharge and refuel as he practiced his abilities. He was nothing like Ratchet, who gently coaxed him to practice in his own time.
His fist clenched at the thought of the medic. Whom he still hadn't seen since his arrival on the Nemesis. Megatron had assured him that Ratchet was alive, but what if it was a lie? What if he was already dead and they just didn't know it?
Pinned between the two Decepticons, it took a moment for Raf to summon the courage to mutter, "...and what about Ratchet?"
"He will be among the first to glimpse Cybertron returned to its former glory." A clawed servo clasped over his shoulder. "Just imagine how proud he will be of your accomplishment."
Raf chewed his lower lip. What would Ratchet say? Would be disappointed that he had worked with Megatron? But Raf was doing it for the Autobots, for their homeworld. He would understand, right? After a long, hesitant moment, he nodded.
"...A-Alright." He forced himself to look into those vermillion optics. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Step this way," Shockwave instructed, beckoning him with a servo. "I have prepared a terminal specifically for you."
The scientist guided Raf to a circular platform. A series of tubes branched off from it, connecting it to the circle of containers around them. A robotic arm was perched on either side of the platform, reaching towards its center with greedy claws. Raf apprehensively paused at the sight of it. There was an insistent nudge on his back, sending him stumbling towards Shockwave.
The Decepticon caught him before he could fall onto his faceplates. He half-ushered, half-dragged the smaller mech towards the center of the platform. When Raf squirmed in discomfort, he commanded, "Be still."
The mutant obeyed. However, he could help but start when the robotic arms came to life. They moved towards him in unison. Before he could protest, they grasped onto his wrists in an unyielding hold. Raf instinctively tried to wiggle free, only to give a pitiful yip when he felt sharp needles pierce his exoskeleton, digging into his protoform until it struck his neural net. Panic seized his spark.
"W-what's going on?" He asked, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.
"Remain calm," Shockwave ordered. "These are merely to assist you in honing your focus, and thus your capabilities."
"It hurts!"
"The pain will be temporary." Completely ignoring the fear and discomfort on Raf's faceplates, Shockwave turned to Megatron. "The Omega Lock is ready for activation, Lord Megatron."
"Then by all means, Shockwave," the Decepticon leader purred. "Let us begin."
At that, Shockwave stepped next to a console beside the platform, tapping a single key. A hum filled the air. Quiet at first, but then it grew louder and louder until it was almost a roar, deafening against Raf's audio receptictors. The tubes attached to containers began to fill with a sickly green glow, mixing with the golden cybernucleic acid. The substance became a brilliant cerulean color.
Raf stared, transfixed, until only to be torn away with a gasp as his wrists began to burn. It raced up his arms like wildfire, spreading across his neural net, across his frame. He shut his optics, but it only seemed to amplify the pain. It was hot! So hot!
Raf opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but he could only let out an agonized scream.