Endpoint (A TFP Fanfiction)

Chapter 10

A little over a year ago...

Optimus found himself being wakened again, his body being shaken heavily by servos. He pretended they weren't there, wanting to remain in oblivion for a while longer. He didn't want to go back to that horrible reality. He knew he was breaking, or already broken, and wasn't willing to fight it. What was the point? It was clear that all good things were ending. He wanted to sink into this depression until there was nothing, and he could rest in peace. Without pain, without suffering.

He groaned as the shaking grew harder and more desperate. His audio receptors started to pick up panicked voices, one clearer while the other was a mix of clicks and whirrs. His optics began to open dazedly against his will, and he squinted at the dim light. He saw large blue optics, and one that was narrowed in concern.

"-mus. Optimus!" he heard finally, the voice belonging to his old friend.

The Prime lifted his helm slowly, his optics dim and flickering in and out. He slowly remembered the pain of being tortured, falling in and out of the pain as time went by. He pushed through it this time, focusing his gaze on the ones before him. He felt his spark both sink and lift when he recognized them as the medic and scout.

The one shaking his shoulders was Ratchet, whose one optic was twisted in worry and pain. Optimus felt a sting in his chest chassis as he saw that the medic was dented and scarred nearly everywhere. He had an open gash on his helm, Energon trickling down his faceplate.

Bumblebee was behind him, his own faceplate an explosion of fear, anxiety, and worry. He was bent over slightly, holding his side with one servo. Energon was leaking through his digits, and he was tense with pain. He looked in worse shape than the medic, dented nearly twice as badly as he was.

The Prime blinked weakly, groaning only a little as he adjusted himself so that he wasn't so slouched. He could feel his old self returning as he raised his helm to the others. "How.. how have you returned to me?" he asked, his voice scratchy and weak.

Ratchet looked frantic, while Bumblebee looked afraid. "We escaped, though not without complications," the doctor told him, releasing the Prime's shoulders.

"<It's been nearly a year since we last saw you...>" the scout beeped sadly, before glancing around, afraid his own broken voice would rouse attention.

Optimus looked at the young mech sadly, sorrowful for his scout. "I see Megatron has been just as unforgiving to you as he has been unto me," he said bitterly, looking over each of their wounds. He could still feel his own dents and gashes throbbing in protest to movement, but he did his best to ignore it.

The old medic shook his helm. "We can't dwell on that now. Optimus, I know that you are unfit for battle, but we need your help." He glanced back at the scout, who gave him another look of fear, nearly dancing on his pedes. They both seemed to be in a hurry.

"What is the matter?" Prime asked, lifting himself up more in authority. His knee plates were on the floor, and he slowly got to his pedes. His chassis screamed in agony, but he grit his denta and put it behind him.

"Megatron has rebuilt the Omega Lock," Ratchet said grimly, sending a flash of shock and terror into the mech before him. "And it's first target is earth."

Optimus' optics widened as he turned to the scout. Bumblebee nodded his helm solemnly before looking at the ground. The Prime felt rage fill up his spark, and underneath the bonds he clenched his servos. He looked back to his old friend, a new set of determination in his optics.

"Release these bonds, Ratchet," the leader instructed. The medic did as he was told and pulled out his blade. Optimus noticed that as he did so he winced in pain, and hoped that whatever affects he was feeling from the torture weren't permanent. As soon as the bonds were off, Optimus' servos fell to his side. He took a deep vent and slowly stood straight.