"Well, I said it once. I'll say it again."
There was a click and clatter, sounding from his left and right.
"You look awful."
Jetfire stirred, but did not open his eyes. His head was ringing from pain and his systems could not take any more stimulation.
"Just awful."
He wanted to go back into recharge, to forget his situation.
"Mind telling me just what you are? Besides 'awful' that is."
Jetfire's optics involuntarily onlined. A scrape of something sharp against his forehead had snapped them open.
"How do you like it, getting your paint all scratched up? Now you know how I feel."
Vision came in sharp and crisp, and so fast that Jetfire's processor got whiplash. He tried to close his eyes, to turn to shield his view - but he found his head magnetized and strapped to a table, and he couldn't move - not even to turn to look sideways.
Whatever urgency Jetfire had felt before flared to life; his fans began to whirl, with the hope of escaping, but there was no way to run now.
"You can call me Knockout by the way, your medical practitioner for the evening. And according to your med files, your name is Jetfire - hrmmm, sounds Iacon-ish."
'I'm on a vivisection table...,' he balefully thought. 'Fitting I guess, to die to a bot called "Knockout." I always killed my food that way.'
The red and white mech from earlier looked like slag. A dark scorch mark had marred his neck and frame - the paint had distinctly distorted and melted to look like raw orange ore.
'Did I do that,' he thought. But despite his looming death, he was more concerned with going into recharge again - he just felt so drained...that his systems refused to prioritize anything else...
Perhaps he would sleep forever.
What did the Decepticons do to him?
He must've been drugged. He had the worst helm-ache he could recall ever happening to him.
He didn't remember how he'd been captured.
Just like the first time.
He didn't remember.
As if Knockout could read his mind, he got an answer.
"Look what your little stunt did to my paint-job! I swear, I signed up to be a doctor, but it was about time I updated my job contract to include interrogation expertise anyway."
Jetfire was unimpressed by what he heard. A doctor turned interrogator? What next, a janitor-bot cleaning up messes?
He felt like a mess. He wouldn't mind being a janitor.
But when he squirmed and snapped his denta, he was surprised to find any taste of energon completely gone.
That absence alone commanded his attention. He was forced to look up, with optics open, but he hadn't planned on listening.
'What does red, white, and sooty want?' he thought.
For good measure, he activated the "anti-interrogation software" Shockwave had gifted him once-upon-a-time. It was the first time he'd ever activated the software since its initial installation, and immediately he gritted his teeth in frustration as the software began to impair his thinking.
Oh boy.
He felt drugged.
Or wasted on high-grade.
Some combination of the two.
Knockout must've noticed his change in demeanor, as he suddenly stopped talking and ran over somewhere, outside of his field of view.
Jetfire's vision blurred and any readings easily accessible from his internal UI visor froze, lighting up with corrupted notifications. To save himself the helm-ache he offlined his optics and disabled the software. He prayed to Primus or to whatever higher power that would listen, for either Shockwave or Starscream to come to his rescue.
But minutes flickered by, painfully slowly as the "anti-interrogation software" had overclocked his processor, and the mere act of looking at what was in front of him was draining and overwhelming. For an astrosecond, he'd made the mistake of onlining his optics and he caught sight of a clawed medic's servo poking and prodding at his open chassis, with various types of instruments sprouting from Knockout's fingertips.
He was neither afraid nor sickened.
But his overclocked processor became infatuated with the idea of identifying the purposes of each and every instrument. Jetfire had never downloaded an information packet about medical instruments before, so he could only hypothesize about their intended uses.
Yet, his overclocked processor could only identify torture tools. Frustration manifested from his spark-chamber. He knew a medic's servo wasn't designed for torture, but for some reason his processor wouldn't let the ridiculous notion go.
He knew it was stupid.
He knew what torture tools looked like.
But he couldn't let the idea go.
He couldn't let go.
Wires plugged into his systems began to shift and moved their positions into different sockets, but he couldn't see what Knockout was doing. There was a sudden burning sensation and Jetfire felt himself go under, his systems halted into involuntary stasis-lock.
"How is he?"
Megatron's viscous mug of a faceplate was far from the first thing Jetfire had expected to see. He was online yet on the ground, back in his cage.
Having already been acquainted with the cage before, Jetfire wasn't in a cooperative mood. His helm-ache from earlier had exploded into a confusing fever, and he opened his mouth to pant like a feral dog, his fans whirling loudly from his internals.
"What a vicious little thing you are." Megatron mocked condescendingly. "Soundwave, have you identified what creature he is yet?"
Jetfire noticed Soundwave in the room when the mech moved, and he snarled, a strange throaty-gurgle as Soundwave leaned down to inspect him closer inside his cage.
"He is Cybertronian, just changed, infected with a disease." Soundwave spoke with many pauses and skips, as his sentences became a patchwork of voices. "But my medical databases have not returned any answers to his symptoms except for a slight case of rust-rot, a harmless strain common among mechs stationed long-term on asteroid mining operations."
Megatron snorted, clearly unconvinced. "Rust-rot, huh? From mining?" He waved a dismissive servo. "Has Shockwave arrived yet? I'm eager for him to split this creature open. No doubt a new bioweapon can be created against the Autobots." Megatron paused, glancing at a vial he carried. "His energon sample is black. I've lived nine million years and I've never seen such a thing."
"And that leads to my next question for you." He pointed at Jetfire, leaning close with a rancid oil-breath. "Why would the Autobots accept you into their ranks. They're not exactly known for their tolerance of off-schematic frames, nor wild experiments."
Jetfire matched Megatron's red piercing eyes. He was used to bots looking at him sourly and he gave Megatron his best disarming smile. Its not like Megatron could be scarier than Shockwave.
Deciding to take Megatron's question seriously, he itched the bottom of his chin, thinking. "Because I did the jobs Autobots weren't comfortable doing." He paused, giving himself more time to pick his words carefully in his favor. "I worked on mainly scavenging Cybertronian structures and decommissioned ships from various alien lifeforms. I'm not surprised I picked up some crazy illness from what I've discovered out there in the vastness of space."
It was a story that was partially true, enough to make himself look useful to the Decepticon-cause. He didn't want to die in a cage.
"As for my illness it's simply superficial. My saber-fangs and talons are from some alien skeleton I scanned and added to my transformation-schematics. It's just cosmetic." He touched his saber-fangs for emphasis. "I just thought they looked cool."
Megatron seemed to consider what he was saying with a flat expression. He didn't look displeased, nor angry. "I suppose you are a mechling. You would think plastering fangs to your face would somehow be useful." It got quiet as Megatron held up a servo. "I'll let Shockwave decide what to do with you." Megatron decided if anything went wrong, he could always pick the other twin, Jetstorm, as his heir. Things didn't tend to come out of Shockwave's lab alive anymore.
When Megatron left the room, muttering about a "late Shockwave," Soundwave didn't follow him out as Jetfire had hoped.
"Soundwave: Keep an eye on the mechling." Repeated Soundwave, in Megatron's voice. "You've handled him good so far."
Jetfire sighed, and absentmindedly placed his hands on the metal bars of his cage, surprised to find they weren't electrified like before. It seemed like the Decepticons where underestimating him.
Good.
He wasn't complaining.
Jetfire decided to lean into his innocent mechling façade - easily done, as the Autobots had already provided him with plenty of practice. He shrugged off the weird, condescending EMP Soundwave was sending his way, implying he was but a sparkling in time-out.
"Hey Soundwave, can you really read minds like the Autobots say?" he asked, trying his best to sound harmless and curious - like a real mechling.
"Jetfire: That's a total pile of slag." It was said in Cliffjumper's voice. Creepy.
"Ahh, that's a no then?"
Soundwave nodded, his EMP field flared with amusement. Jetfire didn't expect Soundwave to tell him the truth, especially if the rumor was true; but the potential lie helped him relax regardless. He didn't want the stress of guarding his thoughts - they tended to be hungry and violent, so Jetfire let his morbid ideas run wild, to get a possible rise out of Soundwave. If Soundwave started tiptoeing around him, then he'd have confirmation that the bot could really read thoughts; but until then...
"Anyway Soundwave, I know Megatron gave you orders, but I still have a patient to look over." Knockout had watched from the corner of the room, unimpressed with a dour look. The melted orange mark across his face held a new intimidation factor. "Soundwave if you would, please play guard duty off to the side, it would be appreciated."
Soundwave nodded again, and Knockout took that as his que to peel off from the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Let's get this over with. Watch my back when he gets out."
'Click'
The cage opened again, and Knockout's EMP field was firm and stiff. It reminded Jetfire of Ratchet, and it felt oddly reassuring.
'Figures I'd feel at home from *someone being mad at me.' He mused.
This time, he exited the cage and had no intentions of starting trouble. His earlier damages from Soundwave caught up to him and he slumped a bit too eagerly onto the black energon-stained berth he'd been on before.
"Alright, nice and easy now." Knockout seemed to lose whatever malice he'd been trying to convey, hovering at Jetfire's side as if he'd collapse at any moment.
"First, I'm going to run a preliminary scan. It might burn a little, so don't freak out."
A green line of light began peeling back and forth across Jetfire's body. It was tempting to fall back into recharge, but the sting provided by the scan-lights were enough to keep him watchful.
"You have some nerve-twitch damage alright, but nothing that's not easily replaced." Knockout held out a pair of cuffs. "Soundwave, if you will? I need him sitting up." Soundwave cuffed Jetfire's wrists together, and nodded in approval when Jetfire didn't put up a fight. Jetfire gave him a bitter look, silently vowing to attack Soundwave when he got the chance.
He was the sort that held grudges.
As petty as he knew them to be.
'Stupid bot is the reason I hurt all over.' Jetfire thought.
Knockout had pried back the armor of his shoulder blades, and began unpinning the back-clasps across his spine, which connected his armor to his spinal-structs. "Okay kid, I'd normally give you a sedative, but since this is nerve damage I need you awake for the procedure; and the typical numbing agent is also off the table." Knockout gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry kid, this is going to hurt. I'll give you some painkillers after."
It was more kinder than he'd expected the Decepticons to be.
"Just get it over with!" snapped Jetfire. 'He's calling me kid? Ugh.' While having other bots think he was a child had benefits, it also never stopped being weird and annoying. He was several million stellar cycles old, as old as the Great War and older than Bumblebee of the Autobots; not like anyone would believe him if he told them otherwise.
Sometimes being undead sucked.
He hadn't been allowed to grow up.
The pain across his spinal-struts broke him out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he pulled back, but restraining clamps against his sides prevented any movement. He tried to struggle free and his internal UI reported movement-commands to his limbs had shut down. Jetfire could only stare ahead as Knockout fiddled with his backside, weaving fresh nerve-wiring along his spine and limb-ties.
It burned.
There was so much energon, the puddle dripping an impossible vantablack.
Soundwave stared back at Jetfire, looking oddly apologetic as he clasped his servos together. Jetfire stared into Soundwave's visor, catching corrupted glimpses of his reflection.
He was technically only half-undead.
His reflection still showed up on surfaces.
But never the full picture.
Jetfire hissed.
He saw Soundwave take a step backwards, and he felt Knockout pull away. Both their EM fields flashed with surprise and hesitation. Jetfire could only bow his head, clenching his denta in pain. A few seconds later Knockout resumed his work, touching Jetfire more gingerly.
He was compelled to hiss again, but he held the noise inside the second time.
He wasn't trying to cause a scene.
Flashing colors captured his attention; Soundwave was showing him scrolling messages in Cybertronian runes across his visor screen, not-so-helpful things like "Good job! Keep it up! Only a little longer! Knockout is almost done!" Jetfire would've thought Soundwave was mocking his predicament, if his EM field wasn't smothering him in concern and strange good vibes.
Soundwave really thought he was a child.
It was insulting. Soundwave had hurt him.
He wouldn't forgive.
Not yet - maybe never.
'You tried to kill me, you aft!' he bitterly thought. 'Did you forget?'
'No matter your intentions, this light show is pissing me off Soundwave.'
Soundwave didn't stop.
'I guess you can't read minds after all...' He looked carefully at Soundwave for a reaction, some sort of tipoff that Soundwave could in fact hear him . But Jetfire's intense gaze had only served to encourage Soundwave's light show to repeat, encore after encore.
Eventually Jetfire felt his back-clasps slip into place, his armor seams burned against the connections of his soft protoform, but it was a satisfying burn, the sort that told him he was healing.
Knockout tried to inject him with something green and mysterious, and he was delighted to find his limb-control had come back online. He slapped the syringe out of Knockout's hand and he watched in satisfaction as it shattered against the ground.
Knockout made a strained noise. "That was your painkillers. We don't exactly have a surplus in stock."
Jetfire wordlessly stood up from the berth. Soundwave stepped forward with servos extended, as if he was going to fall over any moment.
'Come on guys, I'm not a sparkling.'
He waved a servo dismissively.
"Right, well, sorry about the waste, but I'll manage without."
Knockout had went back to a counter, seemingly prepping another green syringe of painkiller.
"Medic, sir, I don't want it. Pain makes me feel alive anyhow." He didn't think much about his comment, until Knockout gave him a stricken expression and silently shared a look with Soundwave.
'These guys are such soft-sparks,' he mused. 'Starscream told me all Decepticons were bloodthirsty psychos.'
And it was true, what he said. Pain made him feel alive. His undead, invisible spark smoldered and flared in a rare smattering of light and color when his systems experienced pain fluctuations. When he was perfectly healthy, his spark-chamber was empty.
Hopefully he never needed a spark-chamber examination. It would be impossible to explain away as a cosmetic feature like his fangs or his suspiciously large talons.
"Thanks for not killing me, I guess." Jetfire ducked down and crawled into his short and bothersome cage. He curled around himself, much like how a cat or dog would. His belly-plates burned against the cold flooring, feeling like a cracked and abused crucible full of molten slag.
"I'm going into recharge. Don't wake me unless its to turn me into Shockwave's igneous pig."
His back wound was still fresh and burned as it pressed against the bars of his cage, but the pain might as well have been the jolt of life keeping him going. His wings firmly clasped against his back, so tightly that it felt like the delicate ends would snap like delicate ceramic ornaments.
"Whoa, you're gonna undo all my work, recharging that way!" Knockout shouted. "Soundwave get him out of there! He belongs on a berth."
Soundwave loomed over his cage, EM field flared with expectation of obedience, but Jetfire hissed.
"As if! I don't trust whatever berth you could give me! Besides, I'll be on a vivisection table soon enough if Shockwave is still coming by." He didn't believe Shockwave would kill him, but he also knew Shockwave wasn't above pushing some sort of experiment onto him, if only as punishment for getting captured.
Jetfire's EM field was projecting out nothing but frustration, his serrated denta clicked together in a strange feral display. He would control as much as he could about his horrible situation. 'I'm a fully grown mech. I'll get out of this place, alive! ' he declared to himself, but the words felt as flimsy as the bars of his cage. He looked into the corner of his optics, spying Knockout's red paint job, resembling a fresh crisp rust-apple. If Soundwave hadn't been in the room, he was sure he could've ripped out the medic's spark-chamber right then and there...
'I'm not a fraggin' sparkling, you weird condescending dross-cans." He internally cursed, his pain lingered like an itch.
"The welds aren't going to heal right if you lay down like that." Tisked Knockout.
Briefly, Soundwave seemed to consider pulling him from his cage, but Jetfire had shrunk back against the bars as far as he could go, so Soundwave dragging him out was liable to reopen his surgical-site - everyone in the room seemed well aware of the fact.
Knockout crossed his arms.
"Fine, have it your way."