[Fic] Truly Free?
This is a birthday fic for my very patient, much suffering friend wyntir_knight!!
Happy Birthday, love!
Title: Truly Free
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death. [Note: This is drawn from the BotCon comic where they show what looks to be Ratchet's deactivated corpse hiding in Megatron's quarters with the rest of his 'trophies' and continues the Marvel comics version of what we lovingly call 'Megatron/Ratchet!Soup'
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.
Summary: Megatron is finally free of Ratchet and his poisonous influence. But if this is freedom, why doesn't it feel more fulfilling and less hollow?
Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide.
--Napoleon Bonaparte
He was finally free.
A strange whirlwind of emotions raced through him as he stood over the deactivated chassis.
For the first time in his long existence, Megatron, leader of the Decepticon army and the tyrant of the known universe didn’t know how to feel.
For as long as he could remember, rage had been the driving force of his existence.
It has sustained him, kept him alive when others had fallen. It had given him purpose and the strength so few mechs had. Strength of purpose and of righteousness and now…he couldn’t even call upon that anger to put things into prospective as it always did.
With his unwanted connection to the Autobot, he had found himself the victim of far too many conflicting and pathetic Autobot sentiments. Unwanted emotions had permeated his circuits like some kind of virus he’d been incapable of wiping from his central processor.
Ratchet was a virus he was incapable of wiping from his hard drive.
And now without the constant sensation of another being at the back of his processor, Megatron found himself at a loss.
Though it had been a relatively short time in comparison to the long lives of a Cybertronian, Megatron had forgotten what it was like to live alone in his own head. That slagging Autobot had been lurking there, stealing his very sense of self and now he was….alone.
Free of his shackled existence to his hated enemy!
Instead of feeling elated or rejoicing in the carnage, the Decepticon didn’t know what to feel.
Elation? Joy? A burning need to take his vengeance on the mech’s ruined chassis? What!?
Ratchet had had the last laugh after all!
Lip components peeled back from bared dental plates as Megatron kicked Ratchet again for good measure. But it did no good. He felt no satisfaction from having finally freed himself of his parasitic half. The Autobot’s limp form clattered across the room but there was no flare of rebellion from the medic. No snarled curses or any of the hundred different responses he’d come to expect from Ratchet.
He’d finally freed himself of the blasted Autobot’s presence but what good had it done?
The victory felt empty.
Hollow.
With one last snarl of impotent rage, Megatron delivered a last crushing blow to the unresponsive Autobot’s crumpled side.
“Soundwave!” he snapped impatiently over the comm system. “I have use of you,”
Within a few moments, the communications officer appeared in the doorway of his private quarters.
“Yes, Lord Megatron?” Soundwave queried tonelessly. The mechanical, almost grating tones of the mech’s heavily modulated vocal processor only served to anger the tyrant more.
A venomous, lethal glare was sent his hapless subordinate’s way. Megatron experienced a petty flash of triumph when Soundwave recoiled slightly.
He relished the momentary brightening of the navy mech’s optic band. Soundwave’s expression was inscrutable with his mask and visor but the Decepticon commander was well-versed in reading the tape-deck’s body language. He drank up the mech’s surprised wariness like one would enjoy a finely poured cup of energon.
“Dispose of this trash.” Megatron ordered coldly.
“As you command, Lord Megatron,” the tape-deck knew better than to question or even meet his commander’s less than sane optics when he was in this kind of mood.
He simply bowed his head before stooping down to pick up Ratchet’s deactivated chassis. Soundwave could feel Megatron’s optics trained upon him and his unwelcome burden with all the intensity of a predator spotting his prey and it made every sensor in the tapedeck’s body scream in warning.
Forcing himself to give nothing away, Soundwave gingerly picked up the Autobot and straightened carefully. There had been whispers of dangerous terms like ‘bonded’ or ‘Autobot slave’ and ‘Weakness’ wandering the Nemesis’s halls for weeks now.
Soundwave was one of the few mechs who knew the truth behind the rumors but truthfully in this one instance, would have preferred to be ignorant. He despaired at the thought of his commander having become bonded even on a molecular level with Autobot scum like Ratchet.
Such bonds could lead to one thing alone….weakness.
If Megatron had faltered, if he had weakened then that slagger Starscream and a dozen others like him would play their hand at ousting Megatron.
Mechs who normally would never have to ball bearings to try such a thing.
Mechs who had little love for Soundwave.
Mechs he’d climbed over in order to attain the position he so enjoyed.
Should Megatron fall, there would be no room for Soundwave in the new regime and he was pragmatic enough a mech to realize this.
Thus, when Megatron returned with his Autobot pet in tow, something akin to fear kindled to life in Soundwave’s spark. And it had resided there, burning within him with the need to dispose of the Autobot and any weakness he might bring with him.
“Have that smelted.” That order as Megatron turned to stalk to his desk was like a reprieve from Primus himself.
Thank the Unmake! Megatron was back to his previous state. Surely the demise of the Autobot medic was nothing if not proof of this?
“As you command, Lord Megatron.” And with one last bow, Soundwave turned to leave.
“On second thought….” It was the musing quality to Megatron’s tone that filled the communications officer with dread. “Leave it there by the berth”
Helpless frustration flickered through Soundwave. He wanted to believe Megatron’s words and trust that he was now over his previous weakness. But still, lurking in the back of his processor was that suspicious worry. Was Megatron losing his edge? Had he become weak?
And if he had, where did that leave Soundwave?
“My Lord?” he turned back to Megatron hesitantly. “You wish to hold onto this scrap?” Perhaps if he repeated Megatron’s words back to him he’d realize how mad that seemingly rash decision of his was?”
“Are you questioning me now, Soundwave?” the Decepticon commander rumbled dangerously.
“Negative. Clarification of orders….requested?” Soundwave carefully worded his reply so as not to set him the unstable Megatron off more.
“I want to keep it for a reminder,” Megatron was magnanimous enough to actually explain himself. It was not something he did often. Unquestioning obedience was expected within the Decepticon ranks. “To those who would think to cross me and to those who would make the fatal assumption that I am weak in anyway.”
Something akin to relief flared through the worried tape deck. Those words, so wonderfully callous and cold sealed what few fears Soundwave had been harboring. His commander was back and he was not emotionally or physically vulnerable in any way. He uttered an almost silent
sigh of relief.
“Yes, Lord Megatron.” And with that, Soundwave happily deposited the ruined medic down in the corner near Megatron’s berth. “Will that be all, my Lord?”
Once again, Sounwave’s optic visor had brightened. This time in a stunted sort of excitement instead of fear.
“No, you are dismissed.”
With a final bow, his subordinate made his hasty retreat. No doubt in eagerness to help dispel some of the insidious rumors that their commander had become weak and unfit to rule.
Megatron watched Soundwave leave with a cruel sort of satisfaction in his optics. That satisfaction was short-lived however and he once again found himself alone with nothing but unmoving form of Ratchet’s still body darkening the corner of his quarters. The Autobot’s dimmed, dead optics stared at him sightlessly and the tyrant found himself fighting down a shudder of unease.
He felt just as empty as the deactivated Autobot and looking at those dead optics was much like looking at Death itself. Even braver mechs than Megatron flinched from that reality.
Finding his thoughts turning to uneasy subjects, Megatron scowled at Ratchet’s slack faceplates.
“What are you looking at?” That growl seemed to echo through his quarters, betraying just how still and quiet it was.
Happy Birthday, love!
Title: Truly Free
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death. [Note: This is drawn from the BotCon comic where they show what looks to be Ratchet's deactivated corpse hiding in Megatron's quarters with the rest of his 'trophies' and continues the Marvel comics version of what we lovingly call 'Megatron/Ratchet!Soup'
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.
Summary: Megatron is finally free of Ratchet and his poisonous influence. But if this is freedom, why doesn't it feel more fulfilling and less hollow?
Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide.
--Napoleon Bonaparte
He was finally free.
A strange whirlwind of emotions raced through him as he stood over the deactivated chassis.
For the first time in his long existence, Megatron, leader of the Decepticon army and the tyrant of the known universe didn’t know how to feel.
For as long as he could remember, rage had been the driving force of his existence.
It has sustained him, kept him alive when others had fallen. It had given him purpose and the strength so few mechs had. Strength of purpose and of righteousness and now…he couldn’t even call upon that anger to put things into prospective as it always did.
With his unwanted connection to the Autobot, he had found himself the victim of far too many conflicting and pathetic Autobot sentiments. Unwanted emotions had permeated his circuits like some kind of virus he’d been incapable of wiping from his central processor.
Ratchet was a virus he was incapable of wiping from his hard drive.
And now without the constant sensation of another being at the back of his processor, Megatron found himself at a loss.
Though it had been a relatively short time in comparison to the long lives of a Cybertronian, Megatron had forgotten what it was like to live alone in his own head. That slagging Autobot had been lurking there, stealing his very sense of self and now he was….alone.
Free of his shackled existence to his hated enemy!
Instead of feeling elated or rejoicing in the carnage, the Decepticon didn’t know what to feel.
Elation? Joy? A burning need to take his vengeance on the mech’s ruined chassis? What!?
Ratchet had had the last laugh after all!
Lip components peeled back from bared dental plates as Megatron kicked Ratchet again for good measure. But it did no good. He felt no satisfaction from having finally freed himself of his parasitic half. The Autobot’s limp form clattered across the room but there was no flare of rebellion from the medic. No snarled curses or any of the hundred different responses he’d come to expect from Ratchet.
He’d finally freed himself of the blasted Autobot’s presence but what good had it done?
The victory felt empty.
Hollow.
With one last snarl of impotent rage, Megatron delivered a last crushing blow to the unresponsive Autobot’s crumpled side.
“Soundwave!” he snapped impatiently over the comm system. “I have use of you,”
Within a few moments, the communications officer appeared in the doorway of his private quarters.
“Yes, Lord Megatron?” Soundwave queried tonelessly. The mechanical, almost grating tones of the mech’s heavily modulated vocal processor only served to anger the tyrant more.
A venomous, lethal glare was sent his hapless subordinate’s way. Megatron experienced a petty flash of triumph when Soundwave recoiled slightly.
He relished the momentary brightening of the navy mech’s optic band. Soundwave’s expression was inscrutable with his mask and visor but the Decepticon commander was well-versed in reading the tape-deck’s body language. He drank up the mech’s surprised wariness like one would enjoy a finely poured cup of energon.
“Dispose of this trash.” Megatron ordered coldly.
“As you command, Lord Megatron,” the tape-deck knew better than to question or even meet his commander’s less than sane optics when he was in this kind of mood.
He simply bowed his head before stooping down to pick up Ratchet’s deactivated chassis. Soundwave could feel Megatron’s optics trained upon him and his unwelcome burden with all the intensity of a predator spotting his prey and it made every sensor in the tapedeck’s body scream in warning.
Forcing himself to give nothing away, Soundwave gingerly picked up the Autobot and straightened carefully. There had been whispers of dangerous terms like ‘bonded’ or ‘Autobot slave’ and ‘Weakness’ wandering the Nemesis’s halls for weeks now.
Soundwave was one of the few mechs who knew the truth behind the rumors but truthfully in this one instance, would have preferred to be ignorant. He despaired at the thought of his commander having become bonded even on a molecular level with Autobot scum like Ratchet.
Such bonds could lead to one thing alone….weakness.
If Megatron had faltered, if he had weakened then that slagger Starscream and a dozen others like him would play their hand at ousting Megatron.
Mechs who normally would never have to ball bearings to try such a thing.
Mechs who had little love for Soundwave.
Mechs he’d climbed over in order to attain the position he so enjoyed.
Should Megatron fall, there would be no room for Soundwave in the new regime and he was pragmatic enough a mech to realize this.
Thus, when Megatron returned with his Autobot pet in tow, something akin to fear kindled to life in Soundwave’s spark. And it had resided there, burning within him with the need to dispose of the Autobot and any weakness he might bring with him.
“Have that smelted.” That order as Megatron turned to stalk to his desk was like a reprieve from Primus himself.
Thank the Unmake! Megatron was back to his previous state. Surely the demise of the Autobot medic was nothing if not proof of this?
“As you command, Lord Megatron.” And with one last bow, Soundwave turned to leave.
“On second thought….” It was the musing quality to Megatron’s tone that filled the communications officer with dread. “Leave it there by the berth”
Helpless frustration flickered through Soundwave. He wanted to believe Megatron’s words and trust that he was now over his previous weakness. But still, lurking in the back of his processor was that suspicious worry. Was Megatron losing his edge? Had he become weak?
And if he had, where did that leave Soundwave?
“My Lord?” he turned back to Megatron hesitantly. “You wish to hold onto this scrap?” Perhaps if he repeated Megatron’s words back to him he’d realize how mad that seemingly rash decision of his was?”
“Are you questioning me now, Soundwave?” the Decepticon commander rumbled dangerously.
“Negative. Clarification of orders….requested?” Soundwave carefully worded his reply so as not to set him the unstable Megatron off more.
“I want to keep it for a reminder,” Megatron was magnanimous enough to actually explain himself. It was not something he did often. Unquestioning obedience was expected within the Decepticon ranks. “To those who would think to cross me and to those who would make the fatal assumption that I am weak in anyway.”
Something akin to relief flared through the worried tape deck. Those words, so wonderfully callous and cold sealed what few fears Soundwave had been harboring. His commander was back and he was not emotionally or physically vulnerable in any way. He uttered an almost silent
sigh of relief.
“Yes, Lord Megatron.” And with that, Soundwave happily deposited the ruined medic down in the corner near Megatron’s berth. “Will that be all, my Lord?”
Once again, Sounwave’s optic visor had brightened. This time in a stunted sort of excitement instead of fear.
“No, you are dismissed.”
With a final bow, his subordinate made his hasty retreat. No doubt in eagerness to help dispel some of the insidious rumors that their commander had become weak and unfit to rule.
Megatron watched Soundwave leave with a cruel sort of satisfaction in his optics. That satisfaction was short-lived however and he once again found himself alone with nothing but unmoving form of Ratchet’s still body darkening the corner of his quarters. The Autobot’s dimmed, dead optics stared at him sightlessly and the tyrant found himself fighting down a shudder of unease.
He felt just as empty as the deactivated Autobot and looking at those dead optics was much like looking at Death itself. Even braver mechs than Megatron flinched from that reality.
Finding his thoughts turning to uneasy subjects, Megatron scowled at Ratchet’s slack faceplates.
“What are you looking at?” That growl seemed to echo through his quarters, betraying just how still and quiet it was.