Transformers Prime: Through Bad and Through Worse

Chapter Seventeen

At least, he was real to Optimus now, like he was to Orion.

Ratchet woke with a groan of pain, optics shuttering open slowly. His chestplates ached, but the burning sensation had finally ceased, thank the Allspark. The medic immediately noted that he was leaning against the wall of a cave, his servos were chained to either side of him, tight against the wall, and his ankles were cuffed. The dimly lit cave was cold, the chains were absolutely frigid against him, and an eery silence poisoned the air. It's like I'm in the Nemesis all over again... He thought, giving the chains a tugg. They barely moved.

"Chains are too tight, it be a waste of time to test them." From the darkness, the silver mech rasped, stepping out into view, his red optics shining.

Ratchet stiffened. "Wh...What do you want with me?" He asked quietly. "Who are you?"

The mech just laughed, pointed denta showing. "The only name you will need to call me is 'Sir', young mech," he began, putting his weight on a walking stick as he hobbled a little closer. "And what I want is merely some... entertainment, as I might put it."

That's not nerve-wracking at all. Ratchet bit his bottom lip. "What do you mean?"

"Ah ah, what do you mean, ____," the mech clicked his glossa, smirking.

"Er.... what do you mean... sir?" The medic said rather uncomfortably, unsure of what else to say.

"That's more like it. Now,"  'Sir' began, "I came to this planet long ago, searching for a new life, away from our own blasted species. I was much younger then... but I found it: here! A new life, so far from Cybertron, I could live happily. Earth has much energon, too. I never wanted to see another Cybertronian again, I was too happy... then one day, years later, I'm taking a stroll, when I come across you, pathetic, intruding mech that has shattered my freedom... Now I won't just let that by, will I?"

"I-I'll leave, I won't come back," Ratchet offered quietly, becoming rather fearful as 'Sir's' tone and expression became dark and malicious.

"Oh, but I want to have some fun with you, some Cybertronian to Cybertronian interaction." He hissed.

Ratchet narrowed his optics. "I..."

'Sir' smirked, before clicking a button on his walking stick, and a blade slid out on one end, creating a spear. Before Ratchet could say anything, the elderly mech threw the spear with spot on aim. The blade pierced deep into Ratchet's shin, sending a splatter of energon everywhere on the handle and on the poor medic's leg.

Ratchet let out a scream of pain, squeezing his optics shut tight, biting back continuous shrieks, beginning to struggle in the chains. Whatever fear he had of this mech had doubled.

"Hn hn hn..." 'Sir' chuckled as he hobbled over, pulling the spear from Ratchet's shin. The medic kept his optics shut, expecting another strike. Instead, the mech reached down, and gently lifted his chin.

Ratchet didn't resist, only bit back a whimper.

"Oh, come on, let's see those pretty optics," Sir teased, stroking the medic's cheek with his thumb.

Slowly, Ratchet opened his optics, bringing his terrified gaze to meet the cruel mech's.

"Such pretty optics you have, yes you do." Sir said softly, a smirk on his lips. When the medic didn't respond, he tilted his helm and sighed. "Now, it's rude to not respond when someone compliments you, isn't it?"

"Uh.. th-thank you..." Ratchet murmured quietly, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, let's play a game!" Sir released the medic's chin and said excitedly. "I have a perfect one in mind!"

Ratchet raised an optic ridge.

Sir leaned forward, smirking big. "You will stand right where you are now, and I'll stand about twenty feet away. I will throw a dagger, one at a time, towards you, but miss each time, and you cannot flinch. For each time you flinch," he chuckled, "I'll dismember one digit."

What?! Not on your life! Ratchet's optics widened, and his spark started pounding so hard it hurt.

"If you can avoid flinching three times and I run out of daggers, you win, and I'll set you free. But, if you flinch more than three times before I run out of daggers, I win, you die a slow, painful, termination." Sir explained, optics sparkling bright.

"I-I... umm.. What if I-I don't participate... Sir?" Ratchet's voice was a fearful whisper.

"Then I'll give you that death right now." Sir snickered, lifting the spear so the blade rested just below the medic's chin. The cool, sharp edge against his throat sent shivers through Ratchet; he whimpered quietly and stared into the mech's optics pleadingly. Sir withdrew the blade.

Signing in relief, Ratchet relaxed a little more. "I-I...... I guess playing the game is my only option..." He murmured.

"That's right! Now, shall I show you my impressive supply of daggers?" Sir backed into the shadows, before returning pulling a huge cart, stacked high with daggers. Ratchet tensed, realizing how hopeless this was. He panicked even more when Sir pulled out two more carts, filled with the same amount.

All these daggers are going to be thrown at me and I can't even flinch. Ratchet stared with wide, terrified optics.

"Impressive, isn't it? Say, what's your name, young mech?" Sir asked brightly, cleaning the blade of a dagger with a cloth.

"R-R-Ratchet..." The medic sputtered, his voice quiet and shaky.

"Hm. Well, we should begin.. Oh! But first..." Sir pulled out a red rag and hobbled over to Ratchet, smirking. "Assuming you didn't come to Earth alone, we can't have you screaming and giving away my hiding place, can we?" He asked, reaching a clawed servo to touch the medic's cheek gently. He waited for an answer.

"...N-No, Sir..." Ratchet murmured.

Sir forced the rag into his mouth, with surprisingly and shockingly strong servos, creating a gag.

"Nnmmf!" The medic struggled in the chains as the mech finished, optics wide with fear.

"Now, ready to begin?" Sir teased, backing to about twenty feet away, and drawing a dagger.