Endpoint (A TFP Fanfiction)

Chapter 12

A little over a year ago...

Ratchet's optic came online again as he felt himself being dragged, a harsh grip on his pede. He was chest chassis first on the ground, and his arms were sprawled out in front of him, sparks glinting slightly as they scraped the metal flooring. The medic was still a little confused, before he noticed the poor condition of his servo. Remembering instantly, he felt his spark break from within him, but not for his own loss, although that was part of him. He missed Bumblebee terribly, but knew that Optimus himself had probably lost it. He remembered the look in the Prime's optics as he had been hauled away by Megatron. His leader had seen so much death, but what was different now was that it had been those he had deeply cared for, those he had considered family. He hadn't even been that bad when his sparkmate, Elita One, was reported offlined in battle. Ratchet had seen the hurt in his friend then, and he could now. A hurt that would never leave the both of them, no matter what happened.

Then he was angry. Furious. He felt his chest chassis burn with rage, unbridled rage he couldn't control. Despite the pain, his good servo clenched into a fist, the digits digging into the metal palm and nearly drawing Energon. He felt a rush enter his spark, and his entire chassis twitched. He saw nothing in his processor but anger and determination. Determination to rescue Optimus, stop them from returning to Cybertron, and kill any Decepticon that stood in his way.

His gaze hard and furious, he slowly turned his helm to see who was pulling him down the hall. He found that it was the thin seeker Starscream, his long digits forcefully squeezing Ratchet's pede as he dragged him. He was grumbling to himself, probably complaining why he was doing a Vehicon's job, his optics staring straight ahead. Ratchet, watching him carefully, shifted his weight and started to turn himself over. Starscream noticed the movement and turned sharply, his optic ridges up in surprise. Ratchet kicked his pede out of the seeker's grip before he could react, jumping up despite his injuries, and the ache in his chassis that told him not to.

Starscream would normally have smirked and challenged any Autobot who was hopelessly out of his league. Especially to this one, knowing that the mech was old and was loosing his touch as of a long time ago. But as he stared down the orange and white medic, he felt a familiar fear rise up in his spark. One that came every time he knew he had good reason to fear for his life. He saw a fire within the vibrant blue optic, ablaze over his whole chassis and processor. There was just... something about the mech, something horrifying.

"You're not really going to attack me," he managed to scoff, despite his shaking knee plates. "I'm the commander of an entire army!"

The medic brought up his servos in a battle ready position, his gaze hard and angry. "All the more reason to offline you," he spat. "You're going to pay for everything you've done to my family."

Starscream shrunk back at the darkness in the medic's voice. Before the commander could act, Ratchet let out an enraged battle cry, the utter pain of loss in his voice only evident to him, and charged at him. He was surprisingly quick for an old and injured bot, and punched the Con in the faceplate. The two of them crashed to the floor, Ratchet on the top and showering Starscream with punches to his chassis, his fist eventually coming up with Energon stains. The seeker screamed for help, pleaded for him to stop, struggles from underneath him, but nothing slowed the medic's blows. Starscream eventually was reduced to whimpering, raising his servos in a desperate attempt to grab his arm.

"Please," he rasped. "Let me go. I'll change! No, I won't even let myself be seen. I'll go into hiding forever! Yes, that sounds desirable!"

Ratchet slammed his fist into his faceplate as his answer. He continued and continued, unrelenting and unforgiving. As Starscream's optics started to dim, he saw that angry tears were falling from Ratchet's optic, his denta gritting as he finished beating the Con to death. Starscream groaned one last time, surprised that this was how he was to be ended, and his chassis went limp to the floor. Even so, the medic did not stop for a few minutes more, too furious to realize that the annoying seeker was gone. When he finally did, he was venting heavily, tears still sliding down his faceplate. He made no attempt to wipe them away, instead getting up and giving the Con one last kick. He did not feel refreshed, he did not feel soothed. The fire was still spreading within him, and he turned sharply down the hall, his optic narrowed.