A Ranma ½ fanfiction piece by pryme-sephir
Disclaimer: I own neither Ranma nor the Transformers. If I did, do you think that this would be a fanfic? So don't sue, okay?
Before you start, I would like to make it clear that I while I have done some writing in the past, that this is the first time that I have ever written a fanfic. So I hope you all enjoy, and I want to hear whatever comments and criticisms you may have. So review, please!
Prologue
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Pain.
It was nothing new to Ranma Saotome. Nearly every day since he had come to Nerima (and virtually every day before he had come to Nerima), he had known pain quite intimately. Being a martial artist with an endless parade of rivals and violent, possessive fiancés, Ranma had come to accept pain as an inescapable aspect of his life.
The pain he was currently feeling was different. Ranma was used to the wounds he received from battles with his regular rivals Ryouga, Mousse, and Kuno. He had adapted over time to the beatings he was treated to via Akane's mallet, Ukyou's spatula, and Shampoo's bonbori. He dealt with Happosai's glomp attacks, Cologne's blackmail spells and traps, and the parents' attempts at forcing him and Akane together. He had even gotten used to the occasional battles with unusual monsters, demons, and self-proclaimed gods.
But never before had Ranma actually been tortured…
Ranma was currently being held by what he could only understand as some form of technological restraints. His arms and legs were each encased in a mechanical pod of some sort, and he was leaning slightly forward in a forced spread-eagle position. Within the pods that held his arms and legs, small needles forced poisons into him the likes of which Kodachi could only dream of. Ranma had built up an intense immunity to various poisons thanks to Kodachi's toxins, Shampoo's drugs, and Akane's cooking, but these poisons were more powerful than anything he had ever been exposed to before. They actually kept Ranma from summoning up his ki, which was the only thing stopping him from escaping. If his captors used anything less, Ranma would have destroyed his restraints and freed himself long ago.
Speaking of Ranma's captors…
The source of Ranma's current pain was the spider-like mechanical being standing before him. Or rather, it was the electrified blade that the creature currently had stabbed into Ranma's left shoulder. The pain was excruciating, setting Ranma's every nerve on fire, and it only intensified as his tormentor began to twist the blade. It wanted to hear him cry out, to hear him scream in agony and beg for the pain to end. But Ranma refused to give the mechanoid the satisfaction. Ranma did not so much as grunt in acknowledgement of his captor's efforts.
The mechanoid's eyes narrowed as it uttered otherworldly curses and twisted the blade further. When Ranma showed no response to its efforts, the creature removed the blade and tossed into onto a nearby table. The table was already cluttered with various torture devices, most of them coated in Ranma's blood. The mechanoid then grabbed Ranma by the hair and lifted Ranma's head, forcing the martial artist to look him in the eye, and spoke.
"Cease this foolishness. You know that you cannot hold out forever, fleshling. Give up the Matrix, and I will end your suffering. If you persist in this imbecilic resistance, the pain will only become worse! Do you truly wish to endure yet more agony? Give in to our demands, and you will be granted freedom!" The creature's voice was raspy, and was accentuated with an occasional clicking sound that seemed to resonate from within the back of its mechanical throat. Its pupil-less yellow eyes bored into Ranma's searching for the smallest chink in his mental armor.
Ranma stared into the creature's eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh his options, before his calm expression turned into his usual confident smirk. Before the creature could voice its rage at his continued defiance, Ranma decided to further mock his captor. He spit in its eye. The oral projectile of saliva and blood (which had made its way to his mouth as a result of the mechanoid's earlier efforts) caused the mechanoid to flinch slightly. Ranma's smirk grew more pronounced as he decided to further the insult and spoke.
"Fuck you, you walking scrap heap."
Silence reigned in the creature's torture chamber. For a few agonizingly slow seconds, it did not respond at all. It suddenly let go of Ranma's hair, letting his head droop to its previous bowed position. The creature then lifted one three-fingered hand and slowly wiped away the spit and blood from its face. After it had flung away the liquid, the creature's hand clenched into a fist, and raised with all intent of splitting Ranma's skull wide open, and splattering the contents all over the floor. But before it could carry out the action, a beeping noise emanated from a computer terminal on the far side of the room.
The creature shouted out with its otherworldly curses once more with considerably more enthusiasm than earlier. It was angry, both at having been stopped and at having lost its temper. It then sighed and turned towards the offending noise. It could not ignore the insistent beeping, since it signaled in incoming communication, likely from its master. It marched toward the terminal, the clank of its metal feet echoing in the cavernous torture chamber. It reached the offending computer and flipped a switch, causing a large video screen to come to life. On the screen was the face of another of Ranma's mechanical captors, and that face was twisted into what appeared to be a permanent scowl. Ranma had learned, shortly after his capture, that this face belonged to the leader of the mechanoids who now held him captive.
"Lieutenant Venom, I do hope that you have made some progress with the prisoner?" It may have been spoken in the master's usual calm speech, but the mechanoid now identified as Venom caught the underlying tone of impatience. Venom mentally steeled himself so that he would not appear nervous in front of his commander.
"There has been no progress as of yet, Lord Megatron. The fleshling is being treated with the strongest poisons I have available, but they have little effect other than keeping him from escaping. I have also been using my most painful torture techniques on him for the past three solar cycles, yet he shows no outward signs of response. If the chemicals had some stronger effect on him, then we could have simply extracted his spark and been done with it." While Venom was highly frustrated at Ranma's refusal to submit, his training as a torturer made him respect Ranma on some level. The fleshling's willpower was admirable. Venom had tortured all manner of individuals, both mechanical and organic, and no one had lasted for more than half a solar cycle. Yet, this…human had lasted for three. Three!
To Venom, this meant that it would only be that much more satisfying when Ranma finally broke.
Upon hearing Venom's response, Megatron's scowl worsened. For a moment, Venom feared for his very existence. If Megatron found Venom's failure unacceptable, then Venom would be taken offline. Permanently. After being slowly blasted into scrap. However, Megatron restrained his temper, and forced himself to remain calm. Anger impaired a person's better judgement, and an intelligent commander needed a clear mind in order to make appropriate decisions. Megatron knew that he was no expert in interrogation. His areas of expertise were combat, political speaking, and battlefield tactics. That was why he had individuals like Venom working for him: to handle tasks that he himself could not. Every individual had a weakness, and he knew Venom would find Ranma's. It was just a matter of time. He had waited twelve years, so what was a few more solar cycles? He could afford to be patient.
And when Venom finally succeeded, the Matrix, the ancient Cybertronian relic of power, would belong to him. With it, the universe would bow before the might of the Predacons. The name of Megatron would be known and feared by all! Yes, he could afford to be patient.
"Continue with your…work, Lieutenant. I trust that you will be able to find the fleshling's weakness in time." Megatron's eyes then narrowed and fixed Venom with a cold glare. "Or is my faith in your abilities…misplaced?" Inwardly, Megatron smiled. Just because he actually believed in Venom's skills didn't mean he couldn't give the spider-transformer a little…motivation.
Venom flinched, the implied threat clearly understood. He had to hand it to Megatron. The master certainly knew how to mess with someone's mind. He was able to find the perfect way to mentally attack someone. Venom's mind screeched to a halt as he realized something. He had gone so long without having to use anything but physical torture that he had forgotten the psychological aspect of his profession. He had clearly ignored all signs that Ranma was immune to the psychological effects of pain inflicted upon his person. Perhaps if that pain was instead inflicted upon someone the fleshling cared for?
It was a rather simple approach, but one that often proved quite effective, especially on the stubborn warrior-types.
"Lieutenant Venom, I expect a response! Will I need to do to you what I did to those pathetic Maximals!" Megatron's demeanor had changed, revealing the legendary rage that lay beneath the calm, cool exterior. His scowl had turned into a full-fledged snarl, and his red eyes seemed to glow with an infernal light.
Venom started, realizing that he had allowed himself to become lost in his thoughts, and had unintentionally ignored Megatron. "Forgive me Lord Megatron, but I suddenly had an epiphany concerning the human. If I may be so bold, my lord, I would like to ask that you send Stalker to the torture room. His services may very well provide me with that which I need to deal with the fleshling."
Venom's statement piqued Megatron's interest. "Stalker?" Megatron's face suddenly split into an eerie smile, one that would have made Venom shudder had he not been expecting it. "I see. I will order him to report to you and take care of whatever it is you need. However, I will expect results soon, or there will be…dire consequences." With those words, the screen went blank, the transmission ended.
Venom released the tension he had built from speaking with his master, relieved that Megatron had not wound up ordering his execution. Venom considered his situation for a moment. Venom nodded to himself, his course of action decided. Intelligence operative Stalker would be able to gather the information he required, and quickly at that. Though he would not arrive for several moments, as his quarters were on the other side of the base.
Venom decided to spend that time releasing some of his pent-up frustrations. On Ranma, of course. He moved to another wall of the chamber, this one covered in racks that held the many tools of his trade that he had acquired over the years. He looked over the many devices, indecision overtaking him for a moment, until his eyes settled on one on the far right. He picked up the long, thick rod he had decided on and took a moment to admire it.
Above the hilt of the rod, it appeared to be made of smooth, blue crystal. The crystalline portion was had several red lines running vertically across it that met at the tip, where it ended in a small bump that was the same red as the lines that connected to it. On the other side of the crystalline portion (which was inside the hilt) was an identical bump. The device was a Dinarian Heat-Stick, a rare find, seeing as how the Dinarians were extinct.
They had been the victims of an unfortunate flesh-eating disease that had been accidentally created in one of their medical labs. The price of one researcher not paying close enough attention to his work, so that he genetically spliced the wrong specimens together. Not that Venom really cared how they had met their end.
Venom pushed the small button at the bottom of the hilt, and the rod flared to life. It glowed a dull blue at first as it powered up, but then began to shine a bright white as it reached unbearable temperatures. Unbearable for the victim, that is. Venom allowed himself a chuckle. Yes, this would teach that pathetic fleshling a lesson about respecting his betters.
Ranma heard Venom approaching. He had known that the brief respite from his torment could not last long. He had attempted once more to call forth his ki, but with no success. From his position, Ranma could see Venom moving behind him, and felt the heat from the rod in his hand. He steeled himself for what he knew was to come. Venom stood behind Ranma and raised the Heat-Stick, aiming for the space directly between his shoulder blades.
"You will submit to the will of the Predacons, fleshling. This I promise you." With those words, Venom brought the rod down.
And Ranma's pain began anew.