BRAINWASHED || BATTLE CRY (Transformers Prime)

Chapter Seventeen | Battle Me

BATTLE ME

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Warning: Mental and Physical Torture

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"I saw this, (I saw this),
I want this, (I want this)."

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"Prime," Agent Fowler protested. "If what Arcee said is true, he annihilated Smokescreen with just a flick of his wrist . . . and Ratchet attacked Arcee without a second thought! If you try to fight, he will kill you."

    The Prime stood before the Groundbridge, turning to look at his comrades. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee. That was all he had left of his Autobot team; Agent Fowler was only excluded due to his humanity. In these circumstances, no one could disagree with him: no harm should come to Jack. Yet that was not possible if Megatron was not given what he wanted. One look at Arcee's defeated, hopeless gaze told him all he needed to know.

    "I know that our circumstances are dire," he said quietly. "But we cannot afford for Megatron to acquire another relic. For Jack and Ratchet's sake, and for the sake of our races, I must do this. Agent Fowler, if you could please activate the Groundbridge."

    "This is insane, Prime," the human voiced his opinion, not caring if it fell on deaf ears. "What happens if you don't come back?"

    "Then carry on the fight," Optimus said without hesitation. "We cannot be the only Autobots . . . send another call for help, recruit more members of Team Prime. Megatron must not win, no matter the cost."

    "Why not use the Apex Armor? That would make you invincible!" Bulkhead pointed out, wanting his leader to have as much of an advantage as possible.

    "Using it will only prompt Megatron to use other means to get what he desires, including threatening Ratchet or Jack's life," Optimus said gravely. "And I do not want to risk losing the Armor to Megatron."

    With that he nodded to Agent Fowler,the Groundbridge powering up. Optimus closed his optics and brought forth all of his focus before stepping through, opening them as he strode to the other side.

    The cool desert air was dry against his armor, the wind nipping at his healing protoform. A twisted sight greeted him: Megatron stood before him with the Star Saber strapped to his back, Optimus Prime's own arm hanging at his left side. Ratchet stood to his right, his optics downcast and servos curled into resistant fists. Between them was the relic, stuck into the ground and waiting for someone to claim it.

    "Your survival is most impressive, Optimus Prime," Megatron mused. The Prime barely noticed Ratchet's optics move, affixing to the hole in his shoulder and flank, almost able to sense the medic's self-loathing. But Optimus just gazed at his adversary, refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching him fret over his friend.

    "Megatron, I cannot allow you to acquire more relics. Nor can I allow you to continue harming my comrades," he stated, his one good servo reverting to his blade. His battle mask slid over his face, leaving only his optics to express his anger.

    "Interesting that you have not made more of an effort to retrieve both," Megatron mocked, "or have I just been missing your pleas to release your medic?"

    "You and I both know they would go unheeded," Optimus replied, neither confirming nor denying what the tyrant said was true. Ratchet's spark twisted.