Disclaimer: Beast Wars not mine.
A/N: WARNING. Rampage is gonna kill me for this chapter. But then again, he'd kill me anyway. What I'm trying to say is: if you don't wanna read rather descriptive torture scenes, please go away. Er, actually, how did you even get this far in this fic?
BUT if you DO read, feedback is GREATLY appreciated :D!
Part eleven
There are many unpleasant ways to be woken up. Fluid-freezing screams from next door is certainly one of the worst. Depth Charge jerked awake abruptly and instinctively reached for his gun. Which, of course, wasn't there. It took the former ray a few moments to gather his wits and remember where he was. The screams fitted perfectly with the dream he had been having about Rampage the crab slaughtering everyone on ancient Earth during the Beast Wars. Funny. While on Earth he had had nightmares about Omicron. Now when he was back on Omicron he dreamed of Earth. Not much of a difference really since there was always X, tearing his screaming victims apart.
But now the screams themselves belonged to X, he realized.
Why would he scream?
Maybe someone was squeezing his spark.
Why would they do that?
To control him. To make him do something. To… stop him?
Depth Charge jumped to his feet.
Primus, he could be trying to escape!
But it didn't sound like there was a commotion next door. After his initial panic subsided somewhat the Guardian forced himself to listen more carefully.
This just proves I'm nuts. Who on Cybertron tries to listen carefully to screams?
But as soon as he did, it occurred to him that X didn't sound like this when his spark was being squeezed. In such cases there were usually long, high-pitched shrieks filled with intense pain but also rage. And these were short, exhausted cries with pauses in between, and each time they died down to quiet whimpers. And each time there was the clatter of metal on the floor.
What the slag was that?
"Hurry up you two and get him to the lab! We're loosing her! She need the transfusion NOW!" Dr. Clearcut's voice shouted.
Depth Charge's optics narrowed. Did they mean mech fluid transfusion? Were they trying to save someone? But why would they use X for that? No, wait, that made sense. He would regain the lost fluid rather quickly and survive a loss no other bot could. But if they needed THAT much of a transfusion, whomever they were saving was practically a goner.
But who WAS it… she? There weren't supposed to be any other experiments here.
A small suspicion crept into his mind.
No… It can't be.
But Dr. Clearcut was the only femme around and she clearly wasn't the one in danger. So what if…
Starlet? Can she have really survived?
A short spark of joy coursed trough him.
But it could also be someone else, someone I just don't know of… And even if it is her…
He was suddenly praying that the bot in question made it.
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Depth Charge had nightmares. Rampage lived in one.
He squeezed his optics shut and tried to imagine he was in another body. They were pushing him down to the lab table, about to pin him to it. Dr. Clearcut was obviously anxious because she was absently clutching his spark rather painfully in her hand. But that was nothing compared to what awaited him in just a few seconds. The wounds from removing the wedges in his cell were just starting to heal. They wouldn't have the chance to heal fully. He knew he should brace himself but he couldn't summon the energy. He felt drained because his spark in the small femme's body was sucking his strength. On top of that he was heavily sedated so he wouldn't try anything. Sedatives DID make him too tired to move but they did nothing to ease the pain. Who the slag cared about that? Another torture session just to help her!
From that moment on he couldn't think anymore, couldn't even hear his own scream as the heavy hammer came down.
One…
Two…
Three…
His left arm was pinned.
One…
Two…
Three…
His right one…
Then his legs…
The last one went between his stomach and his chest plate, completely immobilizing him. Like an insect.
As Dr. Clearcut had pointed out, this method was rather effective.
The next thing he felt was the needle thrust in his arm and the flow of his mech fluid redirecting to the body on the second table. His mechanical blood wasn't anything precious, of course. Nobody cared to stop the flow from his wounds where the wedges pierced his metal. They were staining the whole table but that could be cleaned later. And the wounds would heal. And then they would be reopened again when he was removed from the table. And again when he was back in his cell. He wouldn't die from it so the scientists wouldn't loose their test subject. So it was okay. What else could matter?
A/N: Page, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you some day. When I stop running for my life.
