A/N: Terminology: H.L.U. - Human Life Units
Transformers: Prime
Brave New World - Gilded Earth
"I told you, remember? That someday I would betray you. That someday I would stand against you and that you would not be able to push me down."
"...I remember."
"My heel is painted yellow, Megatron. Do you think you can push me down? Do you believe you can put this revolution down?"
"... … …"
- Audio file #53279640753163
Chapter 23: Welcome to the Winning Team
Megatron stared at the live videofeed playing before him. The frown on his face deceptively covered his intense interest. It was an angled view of the prison cell where Starscream was currently circling the… For once, Megatron didn't know how to label the being hanging in chains. Prisoner, certainly, but he hoped that wouldn't last. Autobot wasn't strictly true, but neither was Neutral. Mutant was a better term, and the thought that this one was actually functioning gave Megatron a sense of satisfaction.
It was now confirmed that the mutants could wake up. And from the answers to Starscream's questions it seemed that they retained their human memories, which could be a minor problem or perhaps a boon, depending on how the situation was handled. He turned on the sound and the femme's crackling voice came through, sounding far more irritated than he thought a prisoner should.
"I told you! I'm June Darby, not an Autobot spy! And I'm only interested in finding my son. You think you would understand that by now."
"But I can't be too sure of that, now can I? You did use a Wrecker's grenade on our troops. That's clearly an act of aggression."
"I only wanted a distraction to get away! I didn't mean to hurt anybody."
Strange. She sounded sincere. He turned off the sound and glanced at the Decepticon Medic standing just behind him.
"So, what do you think of the mutant's condition?"
A shiver coursed through Knock-Out before he answered. "Ugh! In my professional opinion, that is the absolute worst paint job in the history of civilization. There has got to be some processor damage if the femme is willing to walk around in public like that."
Megatron couldn't stop his opticroll or sigh. Sometimes, scratch that, oftentimes the CMO's priorities were famously mixed up.
"Anything else?" he asked tersely.
Knock-Out quickly sobered up. "Certainly a New-Spark." Tapping a few times on the datapad he held, the live-feed on the large screen changed to include a number of charts and graphs that continued to log information. Knock-Out gave his report in a bland tone, "Everything is functioning quite well. Even the injuries she sustained from the explosion are healing nicely without any expert care, though I'm sure it hurts. And I would still like a thorough examination to see how she happens to be up and functioning when the others aren't. ...And to fix that paint job."
Megatron refrained from rolling his optics this time and focused on the important question. "How capable as a medic then?"
Knock-Out lost his composure. A rumble of laughter escaped his chassis, and he said between static, "I wouldn't trust her to know the difference between an electrical and energon line."
"Any merit in training her?"
"I certainly wouldn't say no to an assistant." Knock-Out seemed all too pleased with the idea. No doubt he wanted someone to buff the hard to reach places of his plating. "But are you sure?"
Megatron bared his denta. "This is going to be a new world. I plan on exploiting all the resources to their fullest potential to expand my empire."
The medic stared at him silently before gushing, "Yes, of course, Lord Megatron. That only makes sense, sir."
He ignored the fawner. Honestly, that was one problem with Starscream back in command. Having a groveler for a SIC only brought out the same annoying trait in others. If only he could have more trustworthy subordinates, like Soundwave. That was such an impossibly high standard that Megatron chided himself. Shockwave, then. He could settle for more subordinates like the succinct scientist. Though that wasn't necessarily a stellar option for mimicry considering that everyone knew who, or more of what, the former senator's loyalties lie with.
Folding his servos behind his back, he thought how best to use this new asset. June Darby. A former human with ties to the Autobots. Of greater interest to him was the femme's tie to his rebellious little pet. The way she continued to prattle on about him gave Megatron plenty to work with. He just had to be careful to keep the two on a short leash, not until he broke them both.
"Soundwave, any information on her?"
Promptly an entire data pack filled the corner of the view screen. And Megatron casually began sorting through the information. To fill the quiet command center he again turned on the audio from the prison cell, but largely ignored the fairly passive interrogation.
Designation: June Darby
Age: 35 H.L.U.
"Where did the other ship go?"
Occupation: Medic's Assistant
"I don't know."
No one in the bridge even flinched at the high shriek that lasted just a little longer than Starscream's jab with the electric prod.
Relations: Jack Darby (Carried), Jimmy McCollen (Spark-mate?, Forsaken), Joshua Hoffert (Spark-mate?, Forsaken, MIA, presumed deceased), May Darby (Carrier, deceased), Jonthan Darby (Sparker, deceased)
Megatron wanted to laugh because he could feel the disgruntlement in Soundwave's report due both to the unfinished data and the lack of terminology to describe humans' strange cultural proclivities.
"Don't lie to me! There had to be a discussion about where to meet after your sadly unsuccessful sabotage was complete. So where?"
Allies: William Fowler (U.S. Government Liason to the Autobots), Autobots (Optimus Prime, Arcee, Ratchet, Wheeljack)
"No! I swear! I swear I don't know! Please, believe me!"
Allegiance: Autobot
"I told you not to lie!"
"No! Wait! I couldn't understand them! They were speaking Cybertronian. I- I couldn't understand them!"
Megatron glanced at the videofeed. It seemed that the Seeker was just as baffled as he was, as his wings had cocked at that particular angle when he was confused. Then, Starscream's whole body shook as he laughed.
"Oh, you are a terrible liar aren't you? It's obvious you've had no training whatsoever, so why don't you save yourself the pain and misery and just tell me what I want to know?" He ended viciously, though Megatron could tell the seeker was enjoying himself.
"I told you; I don't know." She was close to breaking. Megatron was sure Starscream was being bombarded with fear from her EM field. "I- I couldn't know. I don't understand Cybertronian. I s-still don'tpleasedon't. Please."
The Decepticon Leader cocked an opticbrow at that. He checked the monitoring graphs to the side, just to be sure. Her patterns had stayed the same.
"Interesting," Knock-Out spoke up behind him in genuine interest. "She's either an incredibly trained spy, right down to her protoform, or-"
"Or she's telling the truth." Megatron finished softly. "Or what she believes is the truth."
Quietly, he let his SIC continue the questioning. He had abandoned the file for now, completely riveted by this peculiarity.
"Then tell me, dear June, how is it that you are speaking Cybertronian now?"
"What? No I'm not." Again, the graphs determined that she was genuinely surprised. And Megatron honestly couldn't spot the slightest hint of deceit. As Lord of the Decepticons he prided himself on catching the best liars, many of which stood at the top of the obsolete caste system.
Knock-Out hummed in distress, but Megatron ignored him and focused on his TIC's silent approach. This unusual situation had drawn the spy-master's attention and Megatron was more than willing to have his input.
Starscream laughed again, as if this was some silly argument he was having with a misbehaving sparkling. Which, in a way, he was. "Yes, you are! We've been speaking Cybertronian this whole time."
June looked shaken. Her trembling servos rattled the chains and she shook her helm violently. "No, that's- I mean, how can I be? We're speaking En-glish, En-glitch, uh, En-gah... Engrish, r-right?"
"Wrong. So you tell me, my stuttering little friend, if you don't know Cybertronian, how are you speaking it so well? Or better yet, how could you not know the Autobots' location!?"
"I don-" The rattling stopped when June froze. "I…"
Starscream leaned in close. "Hmmm… what's that? Are you ready to spill your dirty little secrets now, you Autobot spy?"
June flinched, but was halted by the chains yet again. "I- It's working."
Megatron felt a spike of fear from the medic and a short wave of concern from his TIC at the mutant's confession. He wasn't worried though. Everything this femme said and did, did not point to any sort of violent outburst or even a well-played distraction. So, he patiently waited for the inevitable conclusion to his growing questions.
"What's working?" Starscream screeched as he whipped away from the prisoner in a sense of self-preservation.
"The- the transfer!" June was in a frenzy now. She was desperate to prove her innocence and ignorance. "Ratchet's data transfer! He- he said that it was for the best, that- that the knowledge would help me become a better medic!"
An unexpected clatter made Megatron snap his helm around to stare at the Decepticon Medic. Instead of acknowledging his disapproving stare, Knock-Out was frozen in shock. The datapad was completely forgotten as the Ashton Martin's optics cycled chaotically on the femme.
"What is it?" Megatron demanded in a neutral tone.
"Impossible," was all he got in response. "Is he insane!?"
Tired of the dramatics, Megatron turned fully around and loomed over the medic. Knock-Out seemed to get the hint and snapped out of his mental frenzie.
"A Processor-to-Processor Data Transfer!" He barked. Megatron didn't need to give him the stare for further explanation. "One of the earliest and most dangerous precursors to the Cortical Psychic Patch. The memories of one Bot are transferred to another. Permanently. Obviously the risks far outweigh the benefits. Both the Imperium of Scientific Advancement and the Medical Imperium banned the practice for good reasons."
Megatron tilted his head. "So that femme has all of Ratchet's knowledge?"
Knock-Out shrugged. "Hard to say. Ratchet has lived long enough and has a well of experience that he might have been able to transfer some memories without it becoming an immediate hindrance."
The command center fell silent as everyone pondered that information. Then, Starscream's scratchy voice floated through.
"So even with all that knowledge you claim to have, you know nothing useful? How pathetic. I should just throw you off this ship right now."
"Noo! Please!"
Raising his servo to his communicator, Megatron contacted his SIC. "Starscream, report to the bridge."
The seeker fluttered his wings. He scowled at the prisoner before turning heel and leaving her to continue crying out to an invisible audience.
"Sir?" Knock-Out hesitated. Megatron spared him a glance, as the decepticon was particularly bold right now. Straightening his shoulder a bit, the medic explained, "If Ratchet really did complete a P-2-P Transfer, then it's imperative that I run some tests on her as soon as possible. If there was a flaw anywhere in the data, it needs to be fixed right away."
"A test…" The decepticon leader hummed. Abruptly he turned back to the screen and waved the current information to the side to bring up the feed of another prisoner. After a moment's thought, he announced, "This will be her test."
"Sir?"
"If she is as useful as she claims to be, then let her prove it."
Understanding dawned on Knock-Out's face, but still he balked. "Forcing her to access that knowledge can lead to disruptions in future algorithms. It's-"
"The fastest way we can determine her usefulness and break her lingering hopes for rescue from the Autobots. Another medic isn't merely enough for me, Knock-Out. If she truly has Ratchet's experiences, then I demand that she retain that mantle of expectation."
There was a heavy, foreboding silence before Knock-Out's optics dropped in submission. "Yes, Lord Megatron."
"I'll leave the judgment of her proficiency to you, doctor. Now go prepare."
"Yes, sir." Knock-Out immediately hurried toward the door.
Just as they wooshed open, Megatron called out, "Oh, one more thing, Knock-Out."
The medic turned around with an almost exasperated look, but quickly schooled it. When he heard his leader's final request, his frown deepened. Still, he agreed to try his best, then left with double the speed.
There was a dizzying sense of relief for June when the door opened and through it came the Decepticon Medic. June hadn't ever met him before, but she was familiar enough with Jack and Miko's stories about the flamboyant racer. If he was here that could only mean he would heal her, right?
June grimaced. As quickly as her hope rose when she saw the tell-tale colors of red and white, it fell when she remembered where she was when she jerked her arms. Bitingly, she scolded him, "What this? A medic's come to patch me up so that prod-happy freak can start his fun all over again?"
Knock-Out only chuckled. "Oh no, dear… June, was it? You're nowhere near the state a prisoner would need to be in before my excellent services are required."
A shiver passed uncontrollably through her before she could even think to stop it. The mech had only barely glanced over her condition before saying that with dismissiveness. How could she not fear that underlying message? With human instinct she swallowed, but she was filled with nothing but cool, dry air.
Before she could think of a response, Knock-Out smirked as he came to a stop right before her. "No, there's no need for Starscream's presence. I do have a few questions for you though."
June frowned, her body going still. "I've said it before," her voice taking on a distant, flat tone, "I don't know where the Autobots have gone. I- I left them. I left them to find Jack."
Knock-Out rolled his e-optics, "Hmmm. Well, as disgustingly heartwarming as that sounds, I'm not interested in that." He only allowed June a moment's bewilderment before he set his optics fully upon her and with a tone of shift she couldn't predict from Miko's testament of the flashy mech, he asked, "What's the average SBPK for a Seeker in stasis?"
Her eyes cycled- optics, optics cycle- several times in an effort to focus below her. "Wwwhhha-"
The Decepticon only frowned. "Name the digits of a bi-pedal Amalgatetus who's ancestors included both Preydantalus and Mincornoaluses."
"Say again?"
Knock-Out growled. "Answer me!" Before June could protest again he brought forward the servo he was hiding behind his back. June immediately froze. It was that damn electrical prod, but this time only mere inches from under her chin. That was bad. The joints between the helm and the neck were pliable, the anterior side especially so, which made it a weak point. Particularly vulnerable to stabbing, due to the exposed gaps and thin covers, and electricity, because there was such a small surface area that the discharge couldn't spread across so it went inside. Electrical prods were bad. Especially bad. Bad spot for prodding! Even Starscream limited himself to the sides or chassis!
"Fi-fifteen SBPK! Right side preaxial polydactyly, right side lesser chela, right side greater chela. Left side preaxial polydactyly, left side lesser chela, left side greater chela. Right side distal circum phalange, right side medial circum phalange, right side proximal circum phalange, right side engorgus circum pollux. Left side distal circum phalange, left side medial circum phalange, left side proximal circum phalange, left side engorgus circum pollux."
June stared wide-eyed as the words came tumbling out of her, but didn't see the growing devious smile that was crossing Knock-Out's face. Once her babbling came to a stop, her optics cycled again, but she didn't dare make any other move; too stunned by her own knowledge, and too afraid of the threat below her. She could practically see each of his individual sharp denta with how wide he was grinning.
"Correct," he purred. With a great flourish he pulled away from her, and, just like that, the threatening feeling was gone.
June slumped forward in relief. But before she could even fully relax, sharp dreadful pain shot through her head. Her high keen of hurt preemptively cut off Knock-Out's smug speech, and he took one solid step forward, but this time the prod was nowhere to be seen. Hands pushed against her forehead and June could only squeeze her optics shut tight. It hurt. It hurt so bad but somehow the pressure seemed to alleviate somewhat.
Distantly she heard Knock-Out click in an unhappy tone, "I knew I shouldn't have waited so long to get you tested."
Next she knew, her han-servos had been released and she was tipping forward, unprepared for her sudden freedom. But she surprisingly didn't land on her face.
"Alright, you've convinced me. Let's get you to a proper medical lab to see what's wrong with you." Knock-Out didn't seem the least perturbed by having to prop her up by himself.
Slowly coming back to her senses, June mumbled, "The thing that's wrong is that I have a giant body of cybernetics and metal."
"You say it like it's a curse!" The decepticon retorted, whether with real or mock hurt, June couldn't tell. "Granted, you don't have a frame as lovely as mine, no one really does, but you really shouldn't be insulting your own figure like that."
June pulled away from him. She really didn't want to lean on his help to stand up, whether literally or figuratively. Angrily, she stared him down. "I didn't choose to become this! I didn't- I don't want to be like this. I had a life, a fairly happy one! But now? After what's happened- whatever hell Megatron has brought to Earth. Just - I don't - What the hell even am I!?"
Knock-Out took an exaggeratedly long scan of her before shrugging his shoulders and giving her a wicked grin. "All the data says you're a Cybertronian, through and through. Which can only be an upgrade from whatever life you had before as a fleshy."
June flinched at the utter disdain coming from the mech, but it lit a fire in her too. She opened her mouth to start raining a furious tirade, but Knock-Out was quicker. Again that prod was shoved under her throat, this time close enough for her to feel a slight tingle.
"You should be careful with what you say next. I may be more lenient about your feisty nature, but others watching won't take kindly to your temper-tantrums. So what if you're not a squishy package of organics, you're still you, aren't you? You have a whole lifetime to figure out how to be happy now. Better than being dead."
A shiver coursed through her. It was hard swallowing back the feelings that wanted to explode, but the immediate fear of the prod and the background knowledge of being watched closely set her priorities. So, because she couldn't rage at the moment, June did the only thing she could: she focused on Jack.
"I have a family." It came out a lot less emotional than she expected. Struggling to find the right words, she stumbled onward. "Family who- he's still human. And… if I can- if at all possible, I'll keep it that way. But that means I'm going to outlive him, and by a large margin too. I don't know if there's anyone you've cared for that you've outlived, but just so you know, it hurts. It makes living unbearable sometimes. And I'm not going to lose my son. Not until he's lived his life."
Some hint of an emotion passed over Knock-Out which June couldn't decipher. Frustratingly, the prod didn't move in the slightest.
Knock-Out huffed. "A whole planet's been lost, Sparkling. Anyone who's still alive has lost a lot more than what you have. And yet we're still moving right along."
"And still fighting," June bitterly replied as she carefully stepped away from the prod. Knock-Out let her, but he kept glittering, sharp optics on her.
"Not fighting," he proclaimed happily. "The Autobots are as good as gone. There's no more conflict to be had, unless of course you think defying Lord Megatron is a bright idea." He chirped in mock sympathy, "And those odds don't look good. He's a mech who's thrived in any number of unsurvivable situations, and for us lucky Decepticons, we've survived to the end of this too."
June snorted. She wasn't sure how much the mech believed in the Decepticon way of life, but stories from Bulkhead and Arcee painted him as the opportunistic type.
"Well, good for you," she sneered at him. "Looks like you played your cards right and you landed in a pretty good position for yourself. Only took destroying one planet and taking over another and hurting who knows how many innocent people along the way. But what does it matter? It'll all work itself out in the end. I'm sure you'll be quite happy."
"Oh, I will be," Knock-Out reputed too quickly. He acted casual, even going so far as to pull back the prod to take a jovial stance, but there was an underlying flint to his voice. "It'll be nothing but endless speedways and adulations for my genius and good looks from here on out. It's great to choose the winning side!"'
June shifted. Quietly, she asked, "And for the losers?"
Knock-Out shrugged again. "If they know what's best for them, they'll quietly go die in some lonely, cold corner of space. No need to waste effort on chasing down a rag-tag bunch of idiots. Unless, of course, it was for the sport of it. There's probably a few decepticons willing to go that far. But not me. I don't want to risk a scratch to the paint job, you see."
"Oh how very noble of you."
"Isn't it? I really must applaud myself. It's hard to have style this good with such limited resources. And I will say, I've learned not to waste a drop of it either! I tell you, once we get everybody back together, I'm going to patent my techniq-!"
There was a flurry of movement that forced Knock-Out to stop talking briefly, but only for a moment. Disappointed clicking came from above June as the smaller, but far more battle-hardened mech leaned over her.
"I would congratulate you on your plan but it was honestly so stupid! I even started monologuing just to seem distracted, but femme you are so far out of your depth, it was almost boring to watch you. No decent distractions, no subtle planning, not even a clever quip! What an utter disappointment."
The prod struck the floor right in front of June's wide optics, a promise of more pain if she tried to run again. But that thought was far from her mind at the moment. June was paralized, shivers of sparks running up and down her body, preventing her from even twitching.
"I hit your lateral radiating elexus with an electrical shot." Knock-Out was now cold and factual, a sharp twist from his demeaning laughter. "You won't be moving for a few klicks. Just enough time to get you down to medbay." He then made a sound that June couldn't decipher before motioning to two of those clone-type mechs to come inside. As the strangers reached for her wrists the medic spoke to her softly, even morosely, "You know, Sparkling. What's that saying your people have, 'Don't bite the hand that feeds you'? You should take the time to think your situation over a little more. Your stunt with the grenade has already landed you in trouble, but somehow you think trying to run away, while on a ship, is the best course of action? And to do what? You clearly aren't thinking straight because if you were, you would know that trying to run from us is the worst thing you could do."
June couldn't help it. Tears slipped across her face. Whatever warm liquid it was, it became both overwhelmingly exasperating and the only comfort she could take from this moment. She was a robot, but she could still cry. A tiny moan escaped her as she was dragged down the halls of the Decepticon warship. Silently, she wailed at the unfairness of what her life had become. A crushing, terrible feeling engulfed her and somehow the relatively short journey to the medbay was a worse experience than facing Starscream and his interrogation.
Knock-Out would be lying if he said he wasn't concerned. But, well, he was a Decepticon and a medic, so had practiced ease with which to break the news.
"Ratchet's data is corrupting my… processor, isn't it?"
Or the patient could come to her own accurate conclusion. Oh well, less for him to explain.
"Yes," he replied tersely. With every ounce of derision he could pull up, which was a lot, he explained, "That Autobot should never have done that. It was a difficult enough process in the Golden Age. Nevermind the lack of sophisticated equipment or proper facilities, the fact that he did it at all and you're both still functioning is a miracle."
It was annoying how the femme looked away from him with a mix of sadness and stubbornness. "He did it to save me."
He could only snort. "From what? Us, the evil Decepticons? Femme, even though you might have been knocked around by a few Eradicons, you weren't going to die, unaffiliated as you are. Not unless you were proven to be a real threat, like with that grenade. But with this compressed, corrupted data you are at a significantly higher risk of termination by a swift processor retrogradation."
The femme twitched, then a full body shiver took over. She abruptly crossed her struts, uncaring of the few medical leeds attached to her. Knock-Out had to hold back a growl as he watched. Abruptly he changed focus.
"There's a practical test to be completed, now that we've got a baseline for your condition."
"A practical?" She sounded as dubious and whiney as any sparkling would when faced with a simple scholar's test. Problem was, she was far more mature than any other sparkling he had ever known, and this test was something most medics didn't face until near the end of their vigorous training. Annoyingly enough, Knock-Out suspected that she would prove adequate thanks to a cheat code.
"Yup," he popped the 'p' at the end. With an expert's nonchalance he unhooked the myriad of sensors scattered around her. "I will be scanning you to monitor the processor changes to track the corruption, while determining the feasibility of training you properly." After the last one was plucked from the side of her helm, Knock-Out stepped back and tilted the table to its upright position.
The femme only slightly stumbled off before quickly straightening. Tilting her head she asked, "And if I don't pass?" The room was quiet as Knock-Out methodically returned everything to its place. Unnerved, she pressed, "What will happen to me then?"
Having finally put everything back, the CMO faced her. He spoke distinctly and vaguely, hoping that she would understand the weight of what he implied. "That is still undetermined." He waited for a few moments to ensure her full attention before turning to a side entrance and beckoning her to follow. With a lighter tone, he called back, "But you haven't even seen what your practical exam is. You really shouldn't give up so easily."
A small grin crossed his features when he heard her follow. He didn't envy her in the slightest. Surgery wasn't easy to start with, but add to that her corrupted processor, and the emotional backlash she would not doubt experience, this would be a defining moment he was invested in witnessing.
The door slid open and he began talking. Carefully, but maintaining a casual air, he scrutinized her reaction. Without slowing down, he spoke, "We just so happen to have a subject in need of repair. As per standard procedure, the prisoner has received the bare minimum of care to avoid premature death, but Lord Megatron has seen fit to start questioning the prisoner so they need to be in a fit enough state to be conscious and coherent. You are to make that happen. The tools and materials have been prepped and are ready for your use. You may begin when ready. …And I suggest that you start soon. She has several energon lines that keep reopening. She might bleed out if you don't get to them soon enough."
During his speech, Knock-Out walked around the table on which Arcee was lying prone, unconscious, and handcuffed. Turning fully, he faced the sparkling to observe her reaction. He rocked back on his heels, excitement building within him. Trying to maintain an unsurprised demeanor, he crossed his struts and stared at her, waiting for the inevitable to happen. And when it did, he had no problem letting his grin stretch wildly across his face.
Arcee. That was Arcee, Jack's partner was lying on the surgery table with a burnt and mangled chassis and with a stillness June couldn't recognize from the always-alert motorbike. Arcee. Arcee was dying.
June released a whine that even covering her intake with both servos couldn't muffle. She felt her heart plumpet to the ground, which was apparently far away. But holy- holy- holy- June couldn't finish that thought. The pressure began building in her head again and she grew stiff in preparation for the pain. Vaguely, she knew Knock-Out was walking away from her, still talking. Desperately, she tried grounding herself, but every thought and sensation was fleeting. Fear wrapped tightly around her and June felt her body warm to unnatural levels. But still she stood rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes off her friend. She wasn't sure how long she remained like that, but all at once the implications of what the Decepticon Medic said hit her like a train.
"You want me to patch her up just to be tortured again!?" It didn't matter what pretty words Knock-Out used, that's what would happen. June felt sick and swayed on her f-pedes.
"Your words, not mine," the Decepticon bastard said quickly. "How Lord Megatron goes about it is completely up to him. And what the prisoner does to deserve his ire, I suppose."
"Arcee isn't-" June cut herself off. Oh, she was naive! All that time she spent contemplating in Wheeljack's ship was foolishness. Things had only spiraled away from her theories and hopes, and she seemed so much farther from her son than when she was watching from the window from miles away. Oh, these bastards were truly clever and had been twisting June to their will from the moment she had been spotted from the sky. Starscream's interrogation probably revealed a lot about June's weaknesses and desperateness. Then along came Knock-Out, who she obviously didn't trust, but went along with because in him she falsely believed to have that sense of duty to do no harm, at least when it came to patients. And he acted like she was his biggest priority throughout the entire medical scan, somehow keeping things professional but light. It was almost comfortable, his bedside manner, and June stupidly fell into that trap, hook-line-and-sinker.
Looking up, June wanted to scream. The bastard had the smuggest grin she had ever seen and June had never felt so low. Oh how she hated in that moment. She hated this war that Earth should never have been caught up in. She hated these Decepticons that were manipulating her. She hated this Medic who didn't actually care for life at all, only for the preservation of his own. And she hated herself for being gullible enough to literally walk into this. She had no way out. June couldn't exactly turn away and refuse to help Arcee. Even if it wasn't a 'bot she was friends with, she owed her life to Arcee. And as a nurse, irregardless of what Cybertron's twisted morals of its medical professionals were like, she had taken a vow to help and heal others. Changing species didn't change that desire of hers.
Slowly, she dropped her servos to her side. A long moment passed before she gripped her palms tightly and a fierce growl emitted from deep within her. "I hate you," she said simply and quietly with nothing else added.
The absolute steel that was her declaration didn't faze Knock-Out in the slightest. He gave a light shrug and with that stupid, mocking grin, and a short gesture of his servo, he asked, "So, are you ready to begin?"
June didn't bother to answer. There was a pause before she slowly, heavily lifted her pede to move forward. Her gait was steady and focused, and as she approached the table her face smoothed into something that resembled the walls surrounding them; dark and void of anything.
She took a long moment to study closely Arcee's condition. A sudden light that scanned across herself startled June and she glared at Knock-Out.
"I told you I would be monitoring your processor," he stated bluntly.
June didn't bother to acknowledge that. Instead she asked, "Your medical notes?"
Knock-Out only partially raised a brow before nodding. He reached to the table at his side and produced a tablet. After a few taps he handed it over. June quickly took it and began reviewing the information.
Despite his priggishness, Knock-Out was a thorough, detailed, and highly organized medic; traits that June could appreciate. The technical jargon, though obviously advanced, was easily deciphered and the apprentice quickly read through the long list. With a final nod, she sighed and handed back the tablet.
"Thank you for that," she muttered as she rubbed her forehead. "I think I know where to begin." There was a short rumble from the Decepticon, but he didn't say anything as he took the tablet.
June looked to the table at her side and the variety of tools and supplies next to her. She reached for a small bottle and a cloth-like material. Rinsing her hands, she carefully cleaned her claws before picking up a tool that looked like a convoluted wrench.
Narrating as she went, June began her work. "As the cracked energon lines are the most critical, I'll need to loosen the chestplate for access."
Knock-Out said nothing, but let her work as she pleased. And that was how they were; June would announce what she would do and Knock-Out would type away on the tablet. She was slow and methodical, despite the sickness building within her and her desire to fix Arcee as fast and as completely as she could. She wasn't sure where Knock-Out would stop her, but June wanted Arcee in the best condition possible. Her friend was a warrior. If she could patch her up enough, maybe Arcee would find the will to fight and escape. Maybe. Knock-Out's notes certainly didn't paint that as a possibility.
At times June would hesitate, some gap in her knowledge making it impossible for her to decide on the next action. The first time she did, she took too long to understand that Knock-Out would provide the clue or even outright tell her. Arcee's vitals took a short dive that made June internally panic. It was Knock-Out's slow drawl that helped June correct her mistake. After that, when faced with something she just couldn't comprehend, she looked to the Decepticon medic and he would then explain in dry, medical terminology the procedure that should be done.
It was a strange out-of-body experience as she worked. June had never handled tools like what was presented before her to fix anybody. A few resembled something she had in her household tool bag, but she wasn't about to say that outloud. Before ever getting it close to Arcee, June would hold a tool in her hand, turning it over several times, and practicing a few short motions. She experienced the same terror every time she had to trade out her tool; a fear that she would mishandle it and do some irreparable damage. The feeling never abated, but she did fall into a rhythm that kept her moving.
Periodically, Kock-Out would scan June and be distracted by the notes he took after. June tried not to think about the corruption's progress. It was hard enough focusing on her current task and contemplating the next, that having any personal distractions would cause her to spiral into a world of tilting ceilings and walls moving closer. But despite her mental fortitude, the emotions slipped through her cracks and she would freeze, having been overwhelmed by the maddening situation she had landed in. It was only Knock-Out's dry comments that pulled her back into the present.
It was only when June felt that her progress had really started to make a positive impact, that things fell apart. She swore she had just checked Arcee's vitals, but it was Knock-Out's slightly wavering voice that pulled her out of a blank stare.
"The patient's SBPK is dropping quickly. And their hydrostatick pressure has increased to 245ppi."
June jolted, and double-checked the information. Her optics cycled wide and she froze. Her mind, already exhausted from fighting, flared and she groaned. She couldn't think fast enough! What would be the cause of a patient's SBPK to drop while the pressure spiked? She brought one servo to press against her helm and she only narrowly avoided dropping the tool in her other servo onto Arcee.
Knock-Out was saying something else, but June couldn't hear over the buzzing in her head-helm-head-helm-head-helm. Too slow, she was thinking too slowly! She had the answer, she always had an answer! Others always came to her for solutions…?
Somewhere in her head! It was somewhere in her processor. Why couldn't she-
What was she-
Arcee is-
Suddenly she felt the tool yanked out of her hand and June jumped. All at once the solution came to her.
"The- An energon line!" She gasped. "I- I must have clamped one too tightly!"
This was bad. How many did she fix? Where were they all? Again, she checked Arcee's vitals. The hydrostatic pressure had already increased to 263ppi! That was fast! Arcee's energon lines would burst if not released soon, or carefully. She had to do something. What did she need to do?
A flash of inspiration was accompanied by a lightning strike of blinding pain. Flailing, June clutched onto the table. Desperately she tried to keep the knowledge to the forefront, and between biting gasps, she explained the steps she would take.
"A- an Energon R-Repository Re-v-verse Line Relief! If, if we can-"
"We can't!" Knock-Out snapped. He had thrown the tablet to the side and was moving his servos across Arcee's chassis, the picture of a surgeon at a critical moment. Meanwhile, June was hunched over, debilitating pain preventing her from doing anything useful. "The energon storage we have won't be enough to store the amount we would have to drain to drop the pressure quickly enough."
"Then- then-" June backed away, both servos clutching her helm. It was painful. The sounds of the alarms were pounding across her helm and the-the-the bright lights highlighting the patient were searing into her optics.
Think! June needed to think!
But she couldn't think.
Slowly, she continued to back away until she tripped, and sank to the floor. She could hear Knock-Out saying something, but it hurt and all she needed was for everything to stop for just a moment. Give her a moment to force this pain back, then she could get back to helping Arcee.
Arcee who was her friend.
Arcee who was Jack's partner.
Arcee who was injured.
Arcee, who she was putting back together just so the Decepticons can rip her apart again.
But she had to save Arcee! Arcee needed her! Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
Help her!
June wasn't sure when Knock-Out knelt before her, but when he did she knew she had failed. It didn't matter if she passed the Decepticons' stupid test or not. She had failed Arcee. Looking over Knock-Out's shoulder, June could see her friend's vitals on the display. And they weren't changing.
"SPARKLING!"
June slowly dragged her optics over to Knock-Out's. His faceplates were set into a professional, neutral position. There was not a hint of mockery, disappointment, frustration, or sympathy. June wasn't sure what the other mech saw, but he pulled back from her.
"Get up," he commanded as he rose from kneeling. June could only stare at the flecks of energon on the tips of the sharply pointed servo that was stretched out to her.
"Now," he ordered again.
June placed her servo into his, and pulled herself off the floor. Her optics again drifted to Arcee, and without meaning to, she stumbled past the CMO.
She had to do this, she realized. She had to see Arcee off, as late as she was.
June came to a stop at her side. Gently, she put a servo over Arcee's own still one. She had a distant sense of vertigo, as she noted the size difference between them. Arcee was tiny for a Cybertronian. Annoyingly, her mind supplied that Arcee probably had some minicons for ancestors, but frustratingly she slapped that, and all the other thoughts crowding her brain away.
"I'm sorry," June whispered.
And she was.
June was foolish to think that she could be a medic and save anyone when she didn't even know the first thing about Cybertronians. She was an idiot to think that just because they were built out of metal, that they worked like computers - that it was a simple and common practice to just move memories and data from one sentient being into another. That she wouldn't have to work to become a medic. She had blindly trusted Ratchet, when common sense should have told her otherwise. And now, because of her arrogance and incompetence, Arcee had died.
It was quiet in the room, and with a start, June realized Knock-Out had turned off the monitors. Giving Arcee's servo one last squeeze, June stepped back. She caught Knock-Out's eye and he moved around the table, leading her to the exit.
June followed.
Nothing was said until Knock-Out led her into the ship's corridor. He stopped in front of yet another door, this one smaller, the size for only a single person to pass through. It opened, but he stepped to the side.
"I need to give my report to Lord Megatron. You will wait in here."
June's servo curled, but after a moment's insight, she dropped it. With a dreary nod of her head and staring at the floor, June walked inside. The door hadn't even fully shut before she was sliding down the wall to curl up and weep.
"Everything went better than planned, my liege. The mutant's abilities, though rudimentary, can certainly be buffed to perfection. Possibly even under a vorn."
"And her condition?"
Megatron stared at his subordinate, but for now he held no malice toward the medic. Knock-Out had performed well during this test.
"It is concerning," His CMO sighed. He pulled out the tablet and referenced it several times. "Before the procedure, the corrupted code was only in an incubation state, so to speak. The knowledge she had was only of an initiate; basic anatomy, terminology, and the like. But as we moved forward, the neural cortex showed signs of extreme duress. Scans indicate that up to a quarter of her Present Processor was experiencing a data-jam. Her Future Processor was worse, with a third, up to half, having similar patterns of a data-jam. It's what resulted in her mental breakdown at the end. She had the right solution to the problem, but she failed to execute it because her algorithms were so disjointed. It was an extremely painful few klicks for her, as her helm temperature rose to levels higher than her current-cooling-retention systems could manage. In conclusion, she may be a good medic when given the time to process slowly, but she should never be a field operator. Forcing her to access the data quickly like that would result in minor miss-steps at best, and incorrect procedures leading to suffering and death at worst."
Megatron rumbled. This was both not unexpected but still unsatisfying. He thought for a moment, then asked, "Is there a procedure that would eliminate the data-jam?"
"Not to my knowledge," Knock-Out hesitated. "I'm a surgeon, not a processor analyst. I'm sure there are a lot of risks to forcibly unzipping the data like that. Processor attrition or retardation are at the top of the list. But I can still confidently say that even with cheat codes like she has, it doesn't take away the need for personal experience. She may know the procedures, anatomy, tools and how to use them, but her handling of the tools and the execution of the procedure is sloppy and unrefined. It's something that only time and experience will fix."
The titan nodded. Technical knowledge was something he didn't have, so he had to rely on Knock-Out's, but he could clearly understand the need for experience. Battle experience from the pits was the defining factor for a number of future conflicts he was involved in.
"Then she will need to gain that experience. Congratulations, Knock-Out, you have a new assistant. But I expect her proficiency to rise, and not stagnate, under your tutelage. I won't have this boon from Ratchet be wasted on buffing your hide."
Knock-Out's giddy expression quickly schooled to one like a caught turbofox. Before the braggart could say a single annoying word, Megatron moved past.
"I will see this femme now."
As expected, the medic fell behind him. "She's in the adjourning medic's berth. She seemed to be having a breakdown after losing her autobot ally."
"Which was well executed, Knock-Out." A surge of pride swelled before Knock-Out controlled himself, but it was fair. Megatron rarely gave out any sort of praise, least of all to someone who had failed him as many times as the officer had. "She should be well on her way to abandoning any Autobot sympathies she may have."
"She's showing good signs already. When she does think, she does come to heel. She should only need a push."
"An offer," Megatron corrected. "She's already hit rock bottom. Friendless, alone, and in danger from the carelessness of Ratchet's actions, as she is she needs an out. Salvation, you could say."
Knock-Out's optics cycled wide. Nodding thoughtfully, he remarked, "Salvation which you provide, of course."
"Of course." It didn't need to be said, but Knock-Out's veneration did make Megatron smile widely. It didn't slip his notice how the mech hesitated just a bit, and allowed a fraction more space to grow between them. As they traversed the halls, he changed topics. "And what of the other one?"
"Ah," a spring came to the grounder's step. "All in order. Arcee's being put into a stasis pod right now. I repaired her enough that her injuries shouldn't affect her long-term stasis, but she's not in any sort of condition to escape if the pod somehow fails."
"Excellent. That's one less Autobot on the loose. Once my reign is secured, we will provide a fitting execution for these traitors. But until then, none of them are to be released from stasis unless on my direct order."
"Understood, sir. I believe Soundwave is incharge of their monitoring."
Megatron nodded. The two then fell into a calm silence. For once, Knock-Out didn't see the need to prattle on about himself, which was a relief. The Decepticon leader enjoyed the peace and prepared for the forthcoming encounter.
It wasn't too much later before Knock-Out indicated the door that the former human was behind. Soundwave hadn't alerted him to any unauthorized attempt to exit, which was another point to Megatron's case that the femme needed asylum.
He braced himself for the bombardment of an EM field, but when the door slid open, it was surprisingly blank. Sitting directly across from the entrance was the femme, her lower struts pulled close to her chassis and her servos gripping opposite shoulders. Her optics were staring expectantly at the entrance, but they cycled wide when she saw who was overshadowing it. She twitched, but didn't make another move. So Megatron stepped inside.
With his bulk, he filled a lot of the space, but there was enough distance between their EM fields to remain polite. The femme dragged a servo across her forehelm with her lips pressed tightly together. Megatron smiled at the acquiescence.
"My Chief Medical Officer has just finished giving me his report. He believes you would make for an excellent medic's assistant, June."
Ah, there it was. The femme's EM field burst in a dizzying array of emotions when he said her human designation, but it was quickly taken away. Megatron took note to inform Knock-Out of her radical, unsafe use of the field, if he hadn't already.
"Even if I failed a surgery due to a simple mistake?" Her voice was quiet, steady, and full of derision.
"Lack of experience, is what I'm told. But as I'm sure you're aware, your failure was of no great loss to me." If Jack's reactions were anything to go by, then June would surely rise to the bait when it came to their Autobot allies.
The femme looked down and admitted in a tired tone, "It's a great loss to me. Arcee was a friend." She began threading and unthreading her claws together. A nervous tick, he noted.
Abruptly, she stopped and glanced up. "You have Jack," she stated bluntly. Her deep blue optics looked at him with a raw but guarded expression. It was something Megatron was pleased to see, and he allowed himself the moment of victory to cross his own features.
"I do."
The femme waited expectantly, but was forced to ask, "What do you plan on doing with him?"
Megatron tilted his head, his grin growing sharp. "I shall keep him as a pet."
Rage filled her eyes, but she wisely stayed on the floor. "The Autobots never viewed us in such a way," she accused, her voice wavering with heat.
"But they no doubt viewed you as a lesser. All Cybertronians do."
"I don't."
"Yet."
"Never."
The grin faded. He was getting into her core, but seeing as he couldn't afford to be the antagonizer of her beliefs just yet he dropped her naiveté for another angle. "Regardless, you're a new Cybertronian. He's human, and he'll remain that way. Your interactions won't be the same."
"He's still the son I bore and raised. There's no higher goal than for a parent to see their child turn into an adult. My goal hasn't changed since I've become… different."
That was dangerous. Too dangerous. Jack was his, and to have this femme keep their attachments would undermine his own plans for his pet.
"I want to see him."
"No."
The femme was outraged, but Megatron didn't care. "You haven't earned that privilege."
She stilled at that. Her half crouch she had scrambled up to was put on hold, and she wavered. She turned her helm away, but Megatron could clearly see the thoughts warring across her features. She was almost there. Just one more push; the offer.
Slowly, Megatron extended his original steel-colored servo in an open greeting. "You can earn that privilege."
Her optics snapped back, filled with wariness, and Megatron gleefully noted; remorse.
"The corrupted code can make me useless."
Megatron wanted to laugh. Underselling herself was certainly a creative way to avoid it, but he would not allow her to escape his grasp. She was too valuable a tool in every possible way for the Lord of the Decepticons to simply let her go.
"And we have the resources to fix that." A bold promise, but Megatron had faith in Shockwave's abilities. The femme wavered at his confidence.
With the same sort of conviction he had heard from a thousand others before they became rusted scrap, she proclaimed, "I will only help, never hurt."
"I'm sure you will find plenty of opportunities to help."
Annoyance flickered across her field. She stared defiantly at him, openly measuring him and weighing his words. It was quiet in the room but there was a heavy sense of fate unfolding.
After several more beats, the femme spoke.
"I hate you."
Her voice was strong, but her optics flickered, unsure as to how he would take the admittance. But like much else he had experience brushing off such unimportant feelings from inferiors. That hatred was to be expected, considering her circumstances.
Megatron didn't react at all, just continued to give her the denta-wide smirk. "There's very few who don't."
Slowly, she began rising. Her deep optics locked onto his and in the same powerful whisper that carried her intentions, she swore. "Megatron. I will use you to get what I want. But understand this: someday I will betray you. Someday, I will be able to stand on my own, and I will not be pushed down by you or anyone else. And I hope that on that day, you will come to understand who I really am."
Megatron wasn't sure his grin could be any wider. He allowed a beat of victory to overshadow her resolve for just a moment, as their servos clasped together.
"You will make for a fine Decepticon," he smoothly replied. She was his, and he would never let her go.
