Pain and Servitude

Chapter 17

"This is an escape, Soundwave. You and Shockwave are getting out today, this instant." The medic hurried to the nearby drawers, hastily rummaging through them until finally fishing out a small remote. At the mere click of a button, Soundwave's collar fell away with a soft hiss, landing at his pedes with a soft thud. Purple optics widened slightly, shifting to stare in bewilderment at the deactivated thick band now lying at the slave's feet. Ratchet began to speak again, moving about the room with an almost frantic haste, spitting out instructions to the two weakened mechs, completely unaware of the tall white mech slowly coming up behind him.

Pharma watched the scene unfold, mouthplate stretched into a mocking grin, blue optics flashing with barely suppressed glee and malice. He looked away from the moving figure, instead fixing his gaze on the immobile mech beside him, grin widening at the helpless and defeated look on his captive's face. Blackness fell around them the moment Shockwave's blow struck and the scene changed, turning into what could've been a barren room illuminated by a single light had it not been for the fact that Ratchet could not see a single wall in any direction he looked. It was at if the air itself was a dull gunmetal gray.

"And that's a wrap" Pharma practically purred, turning to face the hunched form beside him. Ratchet scowled, masking the despair and guilt that were beginning to coarse through him by pulling his field closer to his frame. The last time he'd been subjected to the effects of the Cortical Psychic Patch was during the war, when Megatron had kidnapped him in order to complete the Synthetic energon formula. But never would've he thought that he'd be subjected to it again, at the hands of his fellow Autobots at that. He remained silent, only allowing himself to glare at his captor. He couldn't afford falling to the bait, he was in deep slag as it were. Primus, what was he going to do now? He was captured, Bumblebee was currently being investigated and the remaining slaves were now on an even tighter leash, the security around them higher than before.

Pharma pretended to pout, leaning down to grab the older mech's chin in one servo, forcefully pulling Ratchet up to meet his gaze. "Nothing to say? That's disappointing.. Usually you're so chatty, always sticking your helm in matters that don't concern you." Gritting his dentae, he pulled his captive closer, bringing them faceplate to faceplate.. only to reel back when Ratchet promptly spat in his face. "Why you little-!" Pharma snarled, blue optics flashing, servo raised in preparation to strike - when suddenly everything fell away.

A dark purple ceiling met him when he opened his optics. He tried to sit up, but couldn't move. He was still restrained, the energy bands securing him tightly to the medical berth. Right. The Nemesis. He remembered now. For a moment his mind returned to his time at the hands of the decepticons during the war. Funny, how he'd never felt as threatened in their clutches as in the hands of his own brethren. Say what you will about decepticons and their cruel, manipulative methods, they at least had more honor and restraint. His frame ached from being constantly strapped to a hard surface, whereas the decepticon cells allowed him to move around at least a bit. The decepticons did not use the the Patch until they'd exhausted all other options and even then their touch upon his processor had been professional. Pharma's intrusion was personal, violent and his helm hurt.

Pharma snarled and Ratchet lifted his helm, curious as to what had caused his colleagues sudden aggression. The assistant medic, Ratchet failed to recall his name, cringed, lifting a datapad between him and his superior as if it could serve as a shield against the white mech's ire. Frowning, the old medic forced himself to pay attention, straining his audials to catch snippets of the conversation.

"And why is that my problem?!" Pharma hissed, dentae bared in an ugly sneer. His assistant winced, taking a cautionary step back to put some distance between himself and his enraged superior.

"A carrier in d-distress is dangerous, s-sir, you know t-that.. Not only to the child, but t-the surrounding people as well.."

"So restrain him! What can be so difficult about strapping down an unarmed slave?!" Ratchet's frown deepened and his servos clenched. Carrier in distress? Slave? Knock Out! What in Primus's name were they doing to him now?!