Ratchet didn't have time to react before Wheeljack grabbed Perceptor, holding the mech awkwardly over his shoulder before yanking Ratchet to his feet. He was on his feet running before the growing numbness in his legs had time to register. He couldn't feel the pain, but every time his foot hit the ground, he felt like he was falling, only to be caught by a leg that didn't feel like it was there anymore. He stumbled after Wheeljack, rushing out of the shuttle in a mad dash. Vaguely, he registered Trailbreaker ahead of them, his force field glowing in a dome around them, but didn't want to look behind him and see if anyone else had run. The sound of thudding of pedes and the shouts of angry mechs followed him, but he just kept running, holding onto Wheeljack for support.
He looked for rubble, for anything to hide behind as he heard the distinct shot of laser fire sound from somewhere behind him, but there was nothing, absolutely nowhere to duck for cover. No matter what direction he looked, there was nothing but smooth metal reaching out and tall buildings stretching up in the distance. It took him a moment to understand, but when he did, his numb legs gave out entirely and he fell hard. Wheeljack tried to grab him and pull him along, but Ratchet just gaped in horror.
They were on a roof. The shuttle had landed on a roof. There was no escaping now, but that didn't seem to stop Trailbreaker from trying. The black mech kept running even as more of the mechs following him realized he was heading directly towards a few hundred foot drop. Ratchet could only watch as the mech ran to the edge and jumped confidently, disappearing over the edge like he was jumping into a pool of water. A blue bot with an Autobot symbol on his chassis jumped just after him and Ratchet couldn't seem to look away. A couple other mechs made it to the edge before coming to a dead halt and Ratchet didn't want to watch and see one's momentum accidentally carry him over the edge.
The thudding pedes and barked orders of their pursuers got louder Wheeljack gently set Perceptor down and raised his hands up, head ducked like he was waiting for a firing squad. Ratchet didn't think he could sit up if he tried so he rested his head against the ground, hands covering his helm as he hunched into as small a ball as he could manage. He heard the whirring of charged weapons hover over him and tensed, waiting for the impact with optics shut tight.
"Get up!" a voice snapped and a heavy pede kicked him in the side. His vents choked at the impact, but Ratchet managed to push himself upright. The mech kicked him again and Wheeljack helped him stand, yanking him up even as he balanced Perceptor over his other shoulder. Ratchet shared a look with his friend as he carefully stumbled to his feet and he could read the question in his optics. How were they still alive?
The big Con who was still looming behind them and shoved Wheeljack forward, smirking as he scrambled to get a better grip on Perceptor. "Get moving!" he barked and Ratchet stumbled along beside his friend, taking each step slow and watching his feet carefully so he didn't fall again. It was hard to control a limb that didn't feel like it was there and his knees threatened to fold with each step.
Wheeljack glanced back at the Con who followed behind them, daring a glare even as he cradled Perceptor back in his arms. "Backstrut?" he asked under his breath and Ratchet nodded, coolant beading on his helm as he concentrated on staying upright. Now that desperation wasn't keeping him standing, nothing else was really able to and he fell to his knees again, wincing at the clang even though he didn't feel anything. He didn't want to imagine what would happen when his sensors were reactivated.
"I thought I told you to get moving!" the Con snapped and kicked Ratchet again, hitting him directly in the back. Pain flared out as his sensors were jarred and he gave a weak cry, the intensity taking his breath away.
"Stop it! He's hurt!" Wheeljack said and knelt down by his friend.
The Con sneered. "Was running just fine a couple minutes ago," he said, his smirk showing in his voice. Regardless, he grabbed Ratchet under the shoulder and yanked him to his feet before Wheeljack had the chance to. He held him upright before half dragging, half carrying him towards the tall spire that jutted out of the middle of the roof. Ratchet recognized it instantly. The Peacekeeper Headquarters in Kaon was one of the biggest on the planet, and news of its takeover had turned the public view of the Decepticons from a ragtag gang to a legitimate threat. It had been the main hub of the city, and bursting with Autobot supplies, it was the perfect place to set up home base.
Ratchet couldn't do much else as he was dragged into the base, Wheeljack with Perceptor walking in front of them. The Con handed him off to another mech as soon as they walked through the doors before grabbing the pitifully moaning Perceptor from Wheeljack and handing him to another. "Get them to medical. Make sure they'll live," the Con said. He grabbed Wheeljack and said, "You come with me."
Ratchet shook his head. "No! He needs medical attention. His face is torn to shreds—please!" Ratchet said desperately, willing to give anything so they weren't separated.
The Con looked at Wheeljack appraisingly. "Take off your mask," he ordered and Wheeljack swallowed before doing as he was told. Ratchet winced at the sight. The sealant had added a sort of glaze to the wound, making it look, if possible, worse than it already was. The Con made a noise of disgust before jerking his thumb towards Ratchet and Perceptor. "Get moving," he snapped.
The rest of the mechs from the shuttle were sorted out and about half of them were sent down to the medbay, while the other half were sent to some unknown destination. Fortunately, the trip down to the medbay was quick and mostly involved Ratchet holding himself up in an elevator, which he was all too glad for.
To his surprise, the medbay seemed to be in excellent condition. From what he'd seen so far from the Decepticons, he wouldn't have been surprised to find limbs scattered around the room like some sort of chop shop, but everything appeared orderly, and most importantly, clean. There were only a few injured mechs lying on the berth but there were plenty of mechs with medic stripes milling about the room, as though they had been expecting the influx of injuries. Instantly a couple of the mechs came over to them, helping carry the worst injured to berths and instructing others to lie down. Two Cons with guns stood guard at the only door, and Ratchet was all too glad to get away from them as Perceptor was taken to a berth in the corner by a big mech. Wheeljack helped Ratchet stumble after their friend and was glad when no one protested them choosing beds next to him.
The medic who had carried Perceptor locked a cuff around the dazed mech's ankle that kept him attached to the berth before doing the same to Ratchet and Wheeljack. He was a tall mech, some sort of flyer by the looks of it, but his wings were all wrong. They folded down instead of sticking proudly out like most jets. He had a purple Decepticon sigil on each wing, but also had the stripes of a trained medic on his shoulders. "Sit tight," the mech said, his red optics meeting Ratchet's. "I'll come take a look at you all." Ratchet swallowed and nodded, not sensing any menace in the mech's voice before he laid down on the berth with a groan.
Wheeljack had flipped his blast mask on again before they'd even entered the medbay and he rubbed the plated metal. "I can't believe we're still alive," he said after a moment, sounding dazed.
Ratchet ran a hand on his helm. "I can't either," he admitted and took a deep breath, feeling his system calm down a little. This was a medbay. No matter where you were, that meant safety, right?
The winged medic came back over to them and looked between his three new charges, holding a datapad in hand. "I need to check your identification," he said and gently plugged the cord from the datapad into Perceptor's neck, downloading his info. "Are all three of you Praxus University kids?" he asked and moved onto Wheeljack who looked at Ratchet uncertainly. The mech gave a small laugh at their hesitance and Ratchet was surprised that a Con was even capable of laughing. "You three are allowed to speak. I'm here to fix you, not shoot you," he promised. "My name's Spec."
Ratchet swallowed as the mech moved onto him. He felt the quick download of his identification, but the mech didn't take anything, though he easily could have. "Yeah, we're University students," he said at last and Spec nodded.
His optics brightened a little as he read his info off the datapad. "You're a medic?" he asked and looked at Ratchet.
Ratchet shook his head. "Didn't graduate yet," he said quietly and closed his optics, fighting back the painful memories that tried to overwhelm him.
Spec nodded even as he disconnected the cord. "Well, since I'm sure you've already had a preliminary look, which one of you is the worst off?" he asked.
Ratchet bit his lip, looking between his two friends. Perceptor was still dazed and barely conscious, but his injuries were a quick fix and quick recovery. Technically, Ratchet was the worst off of the bunch, but he wasn't in pain right now thanks to his deadened sensors, but Wheeljack was feeling every agonizing second with the raw sensors on his face. He nodded to his friend. "Jack is," he said.
Spec looked at Wheeljack and frowned. "Now what could be wrong with you?" he asked even as he tapped his faceplate, seeing the dried energon on his shoulder. "Open up." Wheeljack did as he was asked and Spec looked at his shredded faceplates without even a flinch. "Yeah, you got some pretty good shrapnel damage there," he said. "Unfortunately for you, we don't have the supplies to be making cosmetic fixes at a time like this. The best I can do for you is numb the sensors and give you an additive that'll help it heal faster. You'll have some pretty badaft scars, but hey, femmes dig scars."
That actually managed to surprise a small laugh out of Wheeljack even as Spec tapped by into Wheeljack's system through a medical port and manually dulled the sensors. "Feel better?" he asked and Wheeljack nodded. Spec went to the storage cabinet near their corner and grabbed a bottle of what Ratchet could only guess was an alloy to help autorepair re-grow the metal faster. He carefully brushed it over his face, coating the different scrapes before gently moving some of the worst shreds of his faceplate back against the protoform with a small pair of tweezers, setting the soft metal in place with quick welds. Ratchet watched closely, seeing how the mech managed to patch over the gaping hole in his friend's cheek before coating it with the alloy to help it heal over.
"Alright, just keep your blast mask on and don't open your mouth too wide until that's healed over a little bit," Spec said. He ran a quick scan on the mech and nodded before heading to the supply closet again, his wings blocking whatever his hands were doing from view. Without warning he turned and plunged a syringe into Wheeljack's neck. Wheeljack yelped more out of surprise than anything and tried to jerk away, but Spec just grinned and waved the empty needle. "There were some traces of rust in your system—had to do something about it," he said and Wheeljack glared at the mech. "Other than some scrapes and minor dents, you're in the clear."
Spec looked at Ratchet again who immediately pointed to Perceptor. "He's got a pretty bad dent and some shrapnel in his armor that I didn't have time to get out," he said.
Spec nodded and walked over to the telescope before getting to work on him. Ratchet couldn't get as good of a view of Perceptor as Wheeljack laid on the berth in between them, but he saw Spec took what looked like a massive suction cup and attached it to Perceptor's helm. Spec twisted something on the device and there was a loud pop. Perceptor jerked up instantly before gripping his helm with a loud moan. "Woah there, just calm down," Spec said. "You got a pretty nasty ding, but you're alright. Just lie down, the headache will pass."
Perceptor looked around in a dazed sort of confusion before his optics settled on Wheeljack and Ratchet. He relaxed a little bit before looking around. "Where's Road and Lunar?" he asked, even as he tried to figure out exactly where they were. He looked down at the cuff around his ankle and frowned, before looking back at Wheeljack and Ratchet, fear evident on his face now.
Ratchet shook his head. "We'll talk later Perce," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Rest. We're safe here, right?" he said and looked at Spec.
Spec gave smiled and nodded. "As long as you're with me, you're safe," he promised. Perceptor swallowed but laid down against the berth, closing his optics with a groan. Spec moved to Ratchet next and looked at him warily. "Now. What are you hiding?" he asked. "I saw you limp in here. You can barely walk."
Ratchet swallowed and rubbed his helm. "My backstrut was dented by the initial blast and it cracked when I tried to pick Perceptor up."
Spec's optic ridge rose as he frowned at the mech. "Cosmetic damage, a bump on the helm and you didn't tell me that you have a broken backstrut?" he asked. "What the pit are they teaching you about priority cases at that University?"
Ratchet scowled. "The sensors went dead. I'm not in pain," he said before jerking his helm in Wheeljack and Percy's direction. "They were."
Spec snorted and shook his head. "Well, you're gonna make up for it now," he warned. "Roll onto your front." Ratchet swallowed and knew it was true even as he did what he was asked. He craned his neck to watch Spec work and saw rather than felt him remove the armor that covered his lower back. He brought out a small electric pen, used to test reflexes and gently moved from the bottom of Ratchet's back up. Ratchet jerked as he was finally able to feel it and Spec peered at the spot closely, using a metal pick to move some of the plates aside. "Yup, you snapped it right in half," he said and Ratchet had the disturbing sensation of a piece of his protoform being slid out from under his armor as Spec pulled the broken scraps out. Without the backstrut to connect the rest of his protoform to his lower half from the waist down was completely paralyzed, but Ratchet barely even noticed. "You're lucky it was a full break. A crack wouldn't have disconnected the sensors and you definitely would have volunteered to go first, if you were still conscious."
Ratchet winced and laid his helm against his arms, letting the mech work. Spec attached his armor plates to a magnet at the head of his berth for safekeeping before heading towards a door at the other end of the room. Ratchet suspected it must be a storage room for spare parts, but when Spec opened the door, Ratchet nearly screamed. It wasn't orderly stacks of factory new parts that they had at the University, but rather grey and dead bodies of mechs, optics lifeless and mouths slightly open, hanging from magnets on the walls. Before the door closed, he watched Spec find a mech that was roughly his same build before marking something on the pad that hung around its neck. When he came back out of the room he was holding a spare backstrut that he carefully polished off with sanitizer.
Ratchet did scream then. "NO!" he shouted and tried to yank his motionless ankle out of its bond. "NO! You are NOT putting some dead mech's parts in me!" he yelled. It was beyond sickening, beyond every level of taboo he'd learned about at the University and he would not tolerate it.
Spec set the backstrut on Wheeljack's berth, and even the usually stoic engineer flinched away from it, optics wide with horror. Spec grabbed Ratchet and pinned him against the berth with a hand on his neck and another holding his flailing arm. With his lower half paralyzed, it was too easy to keep him down. Ratchet cried for help and struggled against the mech before Spec leaned his weight against his back and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Listen to me," he hissed and Ratchet quieted, even as he shook his head in disgust and disbelief. "No, listen to me. We don't have spare parts like the University does. We use what we can and desperate times call for desperate measures, Ratchet."
Ratchet tried to jerk away from the mech but Spec held him tightly, leaning his face in close so Ratchet could feel the air from his vents. "Look," he said quietly, keeping his voice down. "You can either take the part and be grateful, or they're going to take your paraplegic aft out back and shoot you, understood? The only reason we're allowed to fix you up is so you'll be useful to them. A mech who can't move his limbs from the waist down isn't very useful, is it?" Spec sighed irritably and gave the mech a level look. "My suggestion? Take the slagging part and be quiet."
Ratchet panted as he looked at him, optics wide as his morals and survival instinct struggled against one another. He shuddered as he looked at the cannibalized part before closing his optics and nodding. Spec patted his shoulder. "You won't even know the difference," he told him as he grabbed the part and carefully slid it in its place, slipping it into the sensor port before welding it down in a choice few spots so he would still have his full range of motion. Ratchet shuddered in disgust, optics shut tightly, as though he could pretend it wasn't happening if he didn't see it.
"I'm leaving your armor off for now in case I need to make adjustments," he told him and Ratchet nodded curtly. "Ready for the really fun part?"
Ratchet clenched his optics shut tight and gripped the edge of the berth, bracing himself for what came next. "Just do it," he snapped.
Spec shrugged and plugged into Ratchet's neck before reactivating the sensors with a quick command. Ratchet tried to stop himself, but the overload of backed up information made him howl in pain. The comfortable numbness was replaced with a jolt of searing pain as every one of his sensors from the waist down reactivated at once, sending him all of the backlogged information instantaneously. The pain in his knees from where he had fell to the aches from the dents the guards had given him may not have been awful when they happened, but combined into one sensory experience on newly reactivated sensors made it feel like he was being punched everywhere at once.
As soon as the pain happened it was gone, leaving him aching like he should be after his rough treatment on the roof. "Slag that's awful," he groaned and buried his face against the berth.
Spec chuckled. "Yeah, sensory backup's a glitch, huh?" he asked. "But at least it's quick. How ya feel?"
Ratchet carefully sat up and stretched his back, twisting carefully from side to side to be sure everything felt right. "Good," he said, sounding almost surprised at the revelation. "Thank you," he added quietly.
Spec snorted and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't thank me yet," he murmured, sounding almost apologetic. Ratchet tensed as the mech headed to the other side of the medbay, grabbing what looked like an oversized stasis cuff, but it was thinner, not quiet as wide. Ratchet couldn't even begin to imagine what it was for until he looked around at the other mechs that had been brought into the medbay as saw some of the medics locking the cuffs around their necks like a collar.
Spec came back, carrying three of the devices and Ratchet's optics widened. "What are those?" he asked and discreetly tugged at the cuff around his ankle, a distinct uneasiness settling in his tanks.
Spec sighed as he looked at the collars. "A cheap, effective guarantee," he muttered. "Hold still." Ratchet pushed the mech's hand away as he tried to bring the device to his neck.
"No! What are those?" Ratchet snapped, seeing the small cable that trailed from the thing.
Spec ignored him and grabbed his hand, forcing his wrist to the table. "Don't make me strap you down, kid," he muttered and managed to expertly close the collar around his neck before welding it shut. He quickly plugged the cord into the back of Ratchet's helm and the young mech gasped as he felt the plug of the cord lock into place as well, little metallic barbs digging in so it would be impossible to remove without extreme pain and damage. He tried to access the device through the connection, but it was heavily encoded, making it an effective one way stream from the collar to Ratchet's system. Judging by the warnings of a foreign presence that popped up on his HUD, Ratchet could guess what the thing was.
Spec did the same to Wheeljack who flinched as the cord locked into place before moving to Perceptor. The young mech was trembling fearfully, his hands over the back of his neck, covering his access port. "Don't make this difficult, kid," Spec said but Perceptor cowered away from him.
"Don't hurt him," Wheeljack begged. "Percy, just do what he says."
The telescope looked at the collar in horror and shook his head. "No—I'm not letting him put that thing on me," he said, quiet voice shaking.
"Perc—"
"No!" Perceptor cried, his panic in his voice. "I'm not allowing some hatchet medic to put a kill switch on me!"
Ratchet winced, his fears confirmed. Perceptor was rarely wrong. Spec's optics narrowed and he grabbed the smaller mech's neck, pinning him to the berth. Perceptor clawed at his hand as his fingers tightened.
"Spec, don't!" Ratchet pleaded as he vainly tried to tug his ankle free.
The mech glared over his shoulder before looking back down at Perceptor. "You're going to be quiet, and you're going to cooperate, understand?" Spec said quietly. Perceptor gave a quick, terrified nod and Spec let go of him. Before he could start his fight up again, he quickly locked the collar around his neck, locking the plug into place. Spec sighed and ran a hand over his helm even as Ratchet noticed something. He looked at Perceptor and swallowed, seeing the little purple sigil roughly painted on the metal band around his neck.
Spec sighed and shook his head. "You try to run, you die. You put a pede out of line, you die," he murmured, voice sour and bitter as the expression on his face. "Welcome to the Decepticon ranks."