This chapter is pretty much entirely made up of completely unnecessary angst. Like, honestly, there's no plot. At all. It's all just Switchshade, worrying without need. That's it. Hopefully the next one will have a little more action… or something. The discussion with Optimus will probably happen next chapter. I'm not sure, I'm really just making this up as I go. Enjoy!
Switchshade woke from an uneasy recharge half a cycle later. A quick scan revealed that the door to his cell had remained unlocked, and when he extended his sensors, he noted that it was now what the humans called 'night', when their sun did not illuminate their side of the earth. The humans were gone, likely home with their families and asleep, for they had lives of their own to live, amongst their own kind, despite their recent dealings with the Cybertronians. Meanwhile, all six living Autobots were currently in the base, and Switchshade had no desire to venture forth and meet with any of them right just then.
Ratchet had been gentle, kind beyond anything he could have expected, certainly, but Switchshade could no more trust in the medic's word that he would not be harmed than the Autobots could trust him when he tried to convince them he could be trusted. Now that the immediate threat of Megatron and his plans was out of the way, the Autobots would have much more time to deal with their captive, and Switchshade did not have enough pride to attempt to deny his terror. While distracted, the Autobots had seen him as little more than an inconvenience, and the mech was convinced that they had only staved off physical violence and reprimand thus far because he had managed to be somewhat useful, if only in that he had managed to not let their humans die.
But Ratchet said I would not be harmed… How do they define 'harm'? If I am still online, am I 'unharmed'? Would it be considered harm if my doorwings were removed? My servos? Pedes? Armor? Would an earned penalty be considered different than 'harm' for the sake of fun? What if it is the Lord Prime inflicting the damage? How far would be 'too far', how much damage could I sustain before Ratchet would deem it 'harm'? What if-?
Switchshade shook his helm, glancing at the unlocked door once more before staunchly ignoring it. The Autobots would do as they willed, and he had little choice other than to keep his helm down and his vocalizer shut, and do what he could to appease them whenever necessary. Thus far, at least, none seemed overly pleased by the concept of violence, although the Wrecker's tendencies and the femme's cold efficiency still unsettled him. Physical reprimand was inevitable, for although the Autobots had proven surprisingly merciful thus far, they were still but mechs and femmes at spark, and their culture couldn't possibly be that different from that of the Decepticons. Pain and torment was inevitable from one's commanding officers when mistakes were made. It was simply the way life worked. As a captive, even one who had thus far managed to curry enough favor to remain unscathed, he was in an even worse position, but so long as he was careful, perhaps he could do well enough to remain functioning for some time yet.
Rising to his pedes, the dark mech began to pace, and several joors passed without his knowledge as he pondered what might come. The muffled sounds of the three young humans' return were audible for a moment, before fading into suspicious silence, although Switchshade was much too distracted with worry to do more than idly make note of the fact. Now, it was peacetime. Now, there was no constant threat hanging over the Autobots' helms, no more so than Commander Starscream, anyway, who would doubtless be at least moderately less… ambitious, than Megatron. Now, in this lull of activity, the 'Bots would have much more time to tend to their captive. Truthfully, he wondered why they had waited so long to begin.
After several kliks more, with no change, Switchshade finally gave in to his curiosity and growing boredom, and turned up his audial input sensors far past the recommended settings, using a few tricks he had learned from his sire to be able to hear incredibly clearly over a great distance. He almost immediately detected the strong, steady thrumming of the Lord Prime's spark, and he quickly dialed down his audials just slightly, enough to hear Ratchet's confident pedesteps approaching the Prime, as he asked, "Optimus, why so glum? This planet, all planets are finally free from Megatron's tyranny."
Lord Prime's voice was strangely disheartened as he answered, "I do not disagree, Ratchet. It's just… a small part of me hoped to change Megatron's mind, not extinguish his spark." Switchshade's own spark stuttered in surprise at the odd hesitance in the Prime's voice. Ratchet seemed to have no such worry, gruffly reassuring his oldest friend and leader, "Optimus! His vileness was not slain by your hand, but by his own twisted arrogance!" A moment passed, Switchshade waited with interest to hear what might be said in answer, before nearly falling over in surprise when Ratchet continued, his vocalizer much gentler now. "I'm sorry. I know the two of you had quite a history."
"But the Megatron I once fought beside perished eons ago-the day he chose to become a Decepticon." Prime's vocalizer was once again disheartened, although he seemed to have long since come to terms with what had happened. Shaking off the melancholy of Megatron's loss, the Prime continued, "The Decepticons may be in disarray, but they are not without leadership. And while Starscream is no Megatron," Switchshade snorted quietly to himself. "-he is far from predictable."
A sudden explosion in the base rocked the ground beneath their feet, and in his cell, Switchshade winced in pain as his audials were assaulted by the sudden, vast noise. He instantly returned their settings to normal, even as he sprinted from his cell, hoping he would not incur anymech's wrath by doing so, for he had not been commanded to remain within. He heard Ratchet's cry up ahead of, "Decepticons! We're under attack!", and he immediately onlined his battle protocols as he raced to the common area, processor racing with possibilities of what could have happened.
An astroclick later, red optics blinked in confusion as an odd smoke-like substance filled the air of the common area. As the smoke began to clear, Switchshade heard Rafael's voice reassuring Ratchet, "It's no attack, Ratchet." The human paused to cough for a moment, before continuing, "It's my volcano…" even as he spoke, the odd little recreation the human had made sunk down into itself, causing his shoulders to fall. "…was…"
Racing spark gradually slowing at the realization that there was no threat, Switchshade suddenly realized that in his haste to reach the explosion site, he had not paid close enough attention to his surroundings, and had moved to stand merely three yards from the Lord Prime. His battle protocols onlined, an aggressive stance, helm up and red optics clearly visible, Switchshade knew what he must look like. Primus, have mercy…
Instantly forcibly offlining his battle protocols, he quickly moved his servos to shield his chassis carefully even as he slammed his gaze to the ground, bowing his helm to hide the red gleam of his optics as he cautiously edged away from the Prime. A flash of deep blue optics in his direction revealed that this time, his retreat would not go unnoticed, and the dark mech tensed in anticipation of pain, drawing his plating as close to his frame as he could, lowering his helm even further and continuing to shakily retreat as unobtrusively as possible.
Ratchet, meanwhile, was staring at Rafael's creation in shocked dismay, before his attention was pulled to Miko and Bulkhead, as the human exclaimed, "Hold it still, Bulkhead! Jupiter needs it's Red Spot." The Wrecker was smiling in amusement as he obediently held an odd little replica of earth's solar system in a single servo as Miko attacked it with a paintbrush. When she spilled a drop of paint onto the floor of the base, the human tilted her head with a smile of her own. "Oopsie!" she said, entirely unrepentant.
"What… in the Allspark… is going on in here?" Ratchet demanded, looking as though he were about to lose any semblance of patience he might have once had. Jack looked up from where he and Arcee were working on an earth motorcycle, explaining, "Our projects are due tomorrow." Cliffjumper grinned broadly from where he lounged nearby, offering up comments and suggestions on how to improve Jack's project while carefully avoiding any actual work to help at the same time. "Maybe it needs one of those doo-hickies?" Arcee cast her comrade a considering glance, and then picked up the item in question, raising an optic ridge as she offered it to Jack.
Smirking at her clear indecision, Jack asked, "You're a motorcycle, Arcee. Shouldn't you know how to build a motorcycle engine?" Cliffjumper snickered loudly, amused, prompting the femme to scowl over at him before looking back to her human. "You're a human, Jack. Can you build me a small intestine?" Cliff piped in, "Ooh… burn!" as Ratchet visibly forced himself to invent and exvent to remain calm.
"Well… you can't work on these 'projects' in here. You're… well… making a mess!" It was then that Rafael employed one of the most deadly weapons known to mankind. The puppy-dog eyes. "But… the science fair is a big part of our grade…" The medic wavered, and then Miko piped in, "Yeah! If Bulkhead doesn't help me finish this model of our solar system-" the Autobot CMO interrupted, finally at the end of his patience. "Oh? And what does Bulkhead know of your solar system?" he turned to Raf, clearly struggling to ignore the wide, pleading eyes of the youngest human. "Or Bumblebee, of your volcanoes? Or-"
"Arcee of their motorcycles?" Cliffjumper piped in, grinning when Jack smirked at him in return, the human having been about to ask something similar. The joke went right over the medic's helm. "Precisely! We're not earthlings. And they're not scientists." He gestured dismissively to the four Autobots, none of whom appeared eager to argue with him, although they did not abandon their humans to their tasks just yet.
Switchshade had to suppress a smile at the tiny drama playing out before him. There was no violence in Ratchet's optics, despite his harsh tone, and given what he had learned of the medic, the dark mech decided that perhaps Ratchet was simply going to chastise the 'Bots and humans for making a mess, and that no physical repercussions would be forthcoming. He had been permitted to retreat until he got his back to one of the walls, although when he tried to make his way back to the hallway that held his cell, the Prime's optics suddenly locked onto him with a laser focus, prompting him to begin trembling, and the Lord Prime shook his helm slightly, deliberately. The command was clear. Stay.