Chapter 3:
Ratchet ran as quickly as he could, optics set on Sideswipe, unconscious amid deactivated frames, Sunstreaker standing over his twin in a protective stance.
"Give me some slagging room!" Ratchet snapped at the golden frontliner, the younger mech stepping aside quickly, alert for any impending danger to the medic now caring for his twin.
Ratchet quickly assessed the damages to the red mech's frame, taking in the sparking wiring from his knee, the joint twisted awkwardly, warping the nearby plating. There was energon leaking from a large gash in Sideswipe's helm, no doubt the reason for his unconsciousness, and Ratchet patched that first.
It was in this moment, his life had changed. Ratchet looked up at the sound of high-performance engines, optics following the path of a black and blue streak all the way towards Optimus.
The Prime was battered and staggering on his right leg, Megatron looking no better for wear, the two at a stalemate, with neither strong enough to gain the upper hand… That is, until a lithe, black and blue seeker landed on Optimus' back, clawed digits tearing into the big mech's plating and tearing a howl from between the Autobot's lips.
Ratchet saw it unfold in slow motion, Optimus staggering forwards, Megatron grabbing his helm and forcing it back to expose the Prime's intake, then the flash of a sword as Ratchet's friend's helm was separated from his frame. The warlord's next strike punched straight through Optimus' spark chamber, jerking free with the matrix in servo.
The deafening sounds quieted for a moment before a rising cheer came from the surrounding Decepticons… It was then that Prowl had shouted for the retreat, moments before Motormaster shot him down.
Sunstreaker lifted Sideswipe into his arms, a panicked expression on his faceplates as he looked at Ratchet, taking flight.
Unnerved by the fear in the gold autobots optics, Ratchet had been spurred into action, getting to his pedes and running, running, running. Running until he was overtaken by Blast Off and Swindle, the two Combaticons easily subduing him…
Ratchet was dragged back through the carnage of the battlefield, right passed Optimus' graying frame, chassis torn nearly clean away, Decepticons tearing pieces of plating off as souvinours… Ramjet looking at him with a savage grin, servos running with energon.
Megatron stepping towards Ratchet and the group of captive Autobots, holding Optimus' severed helm directly in Ratchet's faceplates, the optics dark, the severed cabling still dripping life fluids…
"You're Prime is gone. There will never be another Prime again." Megatron hissed, and Ratchet could feel the fear and grief from those around him, he himself shrinking back when Megatron leaned in close to his audio. "And I have the Prime's little pet right here… I find myself lacking in that department."
Ratchet jerked upright with a cry, optics wide and overbright with fear and horror, helm swivelling this way and that as he searched his surroundings for the menacing form of the warlord, memory finally catching up to him. Megatron wasn't here. No one was here but him.
Sitting fully upright, Ratchet shivered, partly from fear and grief, and partly from the cold condensation collected on his frame.
Shivering, the old autobot stood upright and moved over to the small window, looking out over a nearly rebuilt Cybertron. Since their arrival a few megacycles ago, more and more Decepticons had been arriving on planet, some he didn't even remember seeing. Some thought offline for millenial.
Ratchet released a sad exvent as he studied the light slowly growing in the darkened skies, painting a symphony of colour in a world full of pain and grief for Autobots.
Looking over each building, Ratchet wondered which of his friends were held prisoner in each one… If they were treated well or nothing more than a frag toy. He was unsure of which category he fell into. He hadn't been used as a toy as of yet, but he had no clue as to what his function was recquired to be.
Glancing back at the door, Ratchet made his way over to it, surprised to find it unlocked this time. Did that mean Titanium had entered the room when he was recharging? Or perhaps she had come by and unlocked it?
Ratchet mumbled under his vents, tired of all of the uncertainty, before making his way out of the berthroom, glancing left and right but seeing no one. Again, he was assaulted by the strangeness of this… Titanium was Megatron's daughter, surely she would have dozens of servants and, dare he say it, consorts?
Frowning deeply, Ratchet quietly made his way down the staircase, glancing at the doors and surprised to find them both repaired… Hadn't they been broken only the cycle before? Perhaps there was so much rebuilding to do that the workers only came by during the nightcycle? That would explain why Titanium would lock him in his room at night, to keep her property away from the lust and whims of a group of Decepticons builders?
Ratchet shook his helm and walked through several rooms before finally finding a main room, no doubt used for large gatherings and parties in the Golden Age, but there was only a single, small table in a corner, the faint glow of an energon cube present in the middle of it.
Looking around in curiosity, Ratchet wondered why Titanium seemed so set on leaving his energon out for him than giving it to him herself. He had expected energon to be withheld unless he 'obeyed' or performed well enough to be given fuel as a 'reward'. This, was entirely unexpected, with the only possible explanation that the seeker officer was attempting to play with his processor. Isolate him from all other contact until he went to her willingly?
Snorting in disdain, Ratchet grabbed the cube and noticed turned around, stopping dead in his tracks when he caught sight of his mistress' frame near the door he had entered from.
The two stared at each other in silence for several moments, as if unsure what to make of the other, before Titanium finally spoke. "Megatron has issued a new order… All captive autobots must be collared." She stated, tone soft and with the familiar meekness to it.
Ratchet eyed her for a moment before shrugging. So he wasn't in trouble for wandering the building? That was a good thing he supposed. The collaring he knew would come sooner or later. "I had expected it at some point." The red and white autobot responded, forcing the tremor from his voice as his optics wandered to the object hanging from her servo, then back up to her faceplates.
What Ratchet had been expecting to see of Titanium's expression was vacant. What he didn't expect to see was the near-panic expression to pass over what he could see of her faceplates, before it was quickly schooled back to the same, expressionless one he had seen on her so far.
"Would you put it on yourself if I trusted you too?" Titanium's voice was soft, and Ratchet looked her over again. This didn't seem to be the vicious femme that had aided in his oldest friend's demise, but it could be another trick for him to lower his guard. "I'd prefer it." The medic finally answered.
The Decepticon nodded and moved away from him, to the table and set the collar down there before picking up the datapad, staring down at it. "I also wanted to tell you about the… Rules." The seeker stated, not looking up from the pad as she moved away towards the door again. "You can go anywhere you wish, but my room or outside. You will be respectful of any… Visitors, and you will be in your berthroom before nightfall. Besides that, if you run, or are outside and you are… Taken advantage of, there is nothing I can do to help you. Same for if you anger another Decepticon. You can learn from experience if you must."
Fully taken off guard, Ratchet stared after the femme as she vanished from the room. Why did she seem to give him so large a berth to and from the table? Or was that his imagination? If he didn't know any better, the autobot would think Titanium feared him. A lowly autobot that could be used for any task a Decepticon wished. Who had no freedom or voice for himself? It was prepostorous!
Ratchet looked over to the table holding the collar. At least she had given him the dignity of doing it himself, and alone. He preferred the solitude to the Decepticon femme watching his humiliation.
Venting softly, Ratchet picked up the collar and inspected it. It was a plain black, and didn't seem to have ulterior motives… It was easily clicked in place, so he could remove it if he truly wanted to deal with the consequences.
Glancing around the make sure he was truly alone, Ratchet wound it around his own intake, clicking it in place with a soft growl. A soft beep, followed by a buzz reached his audios, making the medic frown and reach for it again, only to startle back at the shock when his digits touched the clasp again. He should've suspected it. It was most likely calibrated to Titanium and Titanium alone, making sure that any bot that would attempt to take it off would receive a nasty surprise.
Ratchet vented heavily and picked up the cube he had placed on the table, carrying it back up to his berthroom in silence, placing it beneath the berth and drinking the remains of the first, before sitting on the berth… He was used to working, doing other things than sit around, and he could feel himself becoming irritable with lack of distraction.
Ratchet onlined with a jolt, sitting upright. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen into recharge. Groaning, the medic sat upright, listening for what had awoken him. There it was… The sound of familiar high-performance engines that haunted his defrag cycles.
Frowning, Ratchet stood upright and walked the small expanse to his berthroom door, finding it locked.
When silence passed for several kliks, Ratchet moved back over to the berth, deciding that he had imagined the sound of a seeker's turbines, when it came again, much closer… Near the window. A soft, rumbling purr.
Curious, Ratchet made his way over to the window as silently as he could, glancing around for the source of the sound.
A flicker of blue in the darkness attracted the autobot's attention, Ratchet following the flight path of the seeker to one of the more damaged sections of the building. There, the seeker landed and seemed to be working, a spark of light cutting through the darkness, the medic recognizing it as a blow torch.
What the slag? Ratchet wondered inwardly as the seeker began to meld a new piece of sheet metal over a gaping hole, working silently and quickly. So the renovations and repairs weren't being done by a construction crew, but rather… Titanium? Ratchet stared in wonderment as the shadow moved just so, the sparks from the flame hitting metal lighting up pale faceplates, optics shielded by a blue visor, long enough for him to recognize the Decepticon flier.
Ratchet quickly moved away from the window to evade detection, processor scrambling over itself, trying to find a valid reason as to why a Decepticon officer, Megatron's daughter specifically, was repairing her own building? Most of the buildings on Cybertron had been repaired, at least those that held importance, or were a living space for Decepticons, so why wasn't a crew working on Titanium's home? Why wasn't hers being repaired before the others?
Venting softly, Ratchet glanced out the window again, the young Decepticon now gone from the place she had been repairing. Either Titanium preferred to be taken care of last, held the wellbeing of the troops above her own, or sought solitude like Soundwave did.
Whatever the reason, Ratchet began to understand several things. One, Titanium locked him in his room during the nightcycle so she could go around her repairs unhindered, without having to watch her pet, or to avoid him completely. Two, the fact Titanium was doing her own repairs explained the absence of a building team, and perhaps servants, if she was doing the cleaning on her own as well. Third, that would possibly explain why the femme hadn't sought out Ratchet for certain needs. She was busy, or too exhausted by the day cycle to bother with such things.
But… If that was all true, why would she have a need for Ratchet? Why not have just bought an autobot frag toy later on when she was finished and had time for more… decepticon activities? Or, if she truly didn't want the responsibilities of an autobot, why not go to the clubs?
Ratchet immediately felt guilty at the thought of removing himself from a situation that could only mean more humiliation and pain for those of his friends unclaimed by a single Decepticon and held captive in the clubs… Available for any Decepticon with the credits to rent one.
The medic shuddered at this thought and sat down on at the desk, scrubbing his servos across his faceplates and venting heavily. There was so much confusion in his present and it was beginning to frustrate him.
The sound of Titanium's engines was no longer heard, so the medic laid back down and attempted to forget everything and not try to think for a while. He just needed more rest, and, tomorrow, when he had nothing else to do but sit around, he'd think about it as much as he wanted.