BRAINWASHED || BATTLE CRY (Transformers Prime)

Chapter Fourteen | Consent to Me

"My apologies. I sustained quite a bit of damage in the fight," Optimus sat up, immediately feeling the void where his arm once was. Lightly touching the area, he noticed that the protoform had sealed neatly, and his armor rounded off and smoothed for a more natural look. "Have we . . . received any word?"

Agent Fowler shook his head. "Not yet," he sighed. "No ransom, not even a twisted video to show us if the doc or kid is alright. The 'cons have been silent, and though I've got every available hand scanning databases for any sign of Jack, nothing suspicious has popped up yet. Which either means the 'cons are taking care of him, or . . . we'll get a hit real soon."

Optimus looked around and saw the rest of the base was empty, frowning a little in concern. "Where is everyone?"

"Scouting for energon, as per usual," he was reassured, Agent Fowler moving to the computers. "Bulkhead just checked in about two minutes ago. Bumblebee and Arcee are doin' fine as well. I've got things covered here, if you need to rest for a little while longer."

"I will be alright," the Prime stood, the movement throwing him a touch off balance and causing him to sway. He managed to catch himself before he could fall over, sighing softly and realizing this could get frustrating.

His disability did not go unnoticed by Agent Fowler. "I managed to obtain an at-home physical therapy schedule you can use to get back on your feet, if that's something you're interested in. The person providing it was a professional, but naturally we couldn't just invite her into base. So we settled for this."

"That may indeed be useful. Thank you, Agent Fowler," Optimus was genuinely touched by the extra effort made by their liaison. Sometimes he forgot just how much the Autobots had seemed to grow on the human.

"It's no problem. Just get better as fast as you can, Prime. Megatron hasn't made any moves yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"I am well aware of that, Agent Fowler," he acknowledged, looking around the new base. It was a bit smaller than what they were used to, but they could adapt just fine. Everything that could be moved at a reasonable speed was here, and even the Groundbridge had been deconstructed and shipped here while he was still in stasis, which was in itself impressive. They were going to settle in virtually seamlessly, and for that he was grateful.

He decided it would be best if he continued with the decoding of the Iacon database. They were already extremely behind as it was, and could not afford to give Megatron any more of an advantage. He hoped the Star Saber could not be utilized to its full potential in the Decepticon's servos, but he would only put so much faith in such a notion. He could not afford to just assume any longer.

Ratchet and Jack, as well as all of Earth, depended on it.

⬵⤁

Jack cracked open a bottle of water and took several gulps, thankful to have every drop. He did not dare to ask where Soundwave found the supplies, only silently accepting what was given to him and eating what he tried to call a balanced meal. His mother certainly would not approve, but he was unsure if it was because some of the stuff was not vegan, or just plain unhealthy in general.

Ratchet, however, had refused his energon ration. The medic was once again resisting, his mixed emotions causing him to lash out to his captors, angry and spatting at Soundwave when the Decepticon tried to force-feed him. But the whole ordeal almost seemed fake, as if the third in command was not trying. That concerned Jack. Eventually the silent mech just gave up, striding out with the full cube in servo and leaving Ratchet to wallow in his version of hunger.

The truth was, Ratchet did not feel like refueling. His tanks turned and twisted as he thought about what Megatron had shown him. The day the war had broken out Orion told him what happened, how Megatron threatened to kill the entire High Council if it meant getting what he wanted. He forgot to mention the part where the members had ignored him and did what they do best: dismissed the gladiator. Sure, Megatron was no treat, but their apathy was telling. The High Council only granted him an audience because they believed it would quiet his growing following of Decepticons. Instead, they had underestimated Megatron's drive and intelligence, a mistake that cost them dearly.