OKAY. Let's try this again.. MEM AFTERMATH 1.
The pain came with the shocking, sudden realization that it existed at all; one moment, there had been nothing but a calm emptiness that had been fully embraced. The next, there had been pain. No stages in between, no time to try and figure out what was going on; only the fact that he now hurt and nothing else.
At this point, I realized that barely-conscious people didn’t necessarily need to make sense. It’s all sensation, so I tried to make that the focus.
It enveloped everything. He could barely think past it all, couldn’t collect his thoughts beyond the confusion and agony. His own mind felt scattered, scrambling against it all, lost in an abyss of darkness.
What had happened? Where was he? Why did everything hurt? Why wouldn’t it stop?!
A loud, beating drum echoed above the pain. A horrid thump-thump that made focus practically impossible to obtain. He wished that it would stop pouding, that it would slow down, that it would do something to make it better. He tried to scream. He didn’t know if he did.
I apparently fail at such descriptions, though. That ‘thump-thump’ was SUPPOSED to be his fuel punp, much like a heart, that he could hear far too acutely in his not-quite-awake state. Blah.
Everything was so dark.
He couldn’t see. Everything hurt and he couldn’t see. There was nothing but pain, baffled, enigmatic pain, surrounded by a strange haze.
Often, my brain will give me words even though I don’t entirely know the meaning. I had to look up what ‘enigmatic’ meant even though my brain insisted it was the correct word.
From what seemed like very far away, there were noises. Muffled, as if walls separated himself from their source and almost drowned out by the echo their very existence created. He tried to focus on them, tried to figure out if they had anything to do with what was happening now.
It took some time to realize that they were voices. They were nearly impossible to understand, but they were voices.
What was going on?
The voices were distorted, as if a badly made recording had been played backwards and altered. A single sentence spoke itself at a slowed down tone, pitch changing dramatically, only to speed up without warning to the point of impossibility. He couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t understand most of the words at all.
I imagined that bit as if a recording had been played backwards and randomly slowed down and sped up, with random record-like skipping. For some reason, I find those sorts of noises really, really disturbing. And I figured a sedated mecha might hear things in a similar manner when drugged up to this point.
“What happened?!” That, however, he managed to make sense of.
“What, this shouldn’t -“ The pitch shifted again, the speed changing up as it did and words were lost. “Hold him down!”
A strange pressure overcame him. Frightened, confused and agony still coursing through him, he tried to fight back.
“ -- Even be awake!” The words sent a thunderous clap of pain through him. “Pit spawn - “ A torrent of garbled sound. “Sensors been heightened! Hold him!”
The only reason Cliffjumper was awake at all was because of Soundwave screwing with his sensors. In case that wasn’t obvious. XD;
The pain began to ebb. Desperately, he clung to it, hoping it would keep on going, hoping the pain would all go away.
“It’s okay. Ssh.” The hushing sent a wave of terror through him; it was familiar in all the wrong ways. “It’s all right.”
And even not really awake, Cliffjumper remembers! Dun dun duuuun!
As the agony dispersed, exhaustion loomed. A darkness very much unlike his current blindness came at him with the promise of a long, deep sleep. It was welcomed; anything to make it all stop.
“Cliffjumper it - be okay. It’s going to -“
Then, everything was gone.
To be honest, I have no idea what the point of that entire sequence was. I think my brain intended to use it as some sort of trauma base for the medical staff, but I honestly can’t remember. xD
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Once their patent had stopped moving, all that they could do was stare in shock.
Though, this scene DID have some mini medical trauma.
Had there been anyone watching it all, they might have been able to forgive First Aid and Swoop for their pause. Both junior medics stared at the unmoving blue frame on the berth with wide optics and horrified shock. However, both were still fairly new to their profession; they had yet to see the full scale of what their jobs entailed.
However, Ratchet’s surprise might have been a cause for concern. For several seconds, the Autobot’s CMO openly gaped at the now comatose minibot.
Even Ratchet is going, “WHAT THE F..” and starting to realize that, for once, he may be a little bit over his head. He might be CMO, but every doctor has things they just have never dealt with before. I mentioned it in a recent chapter, but not all doctors can do all things; I figured Ratchet would be no different.
He had been screaming. Cliffjumper hadn’t even been conscious, and he had been screaming.
“Primus..” First Aid breathed as he let go of the body. He took several steps back, limbs shaking ever so slightly. “We.. That was from a basic scan. Ratchet, we - “
OKAY. This is where it cut off in the last journal entry. Let's see if it works now..
“I know.” Ratchet frowned deeply. A deep intake was taken. “Swoop?"
The dinobot trembled. “Me Swoop altered sensors.”
“Good.” Ratchet nodded slowly. “All right. He should be stable, then. Let’s get back to work.”
I had been tempted to make Ratchet stutter a bit here, but decided against it. He’s still Ratchet, surprised or no!
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The meeting was tense even before it began.
Despite the joy and relief that came from Cliffjumpers’ rescue, worry still seeped through the minds of those that were present. It wasn’t simply the state that their formerly red friend was in that had shocked and disturbed them; Ratchet’s unusually subdued behavior after he had confirmed the minibots’ identity sent waves of alarm through them, as well.
Ratchet simply wasn’t the type to be quiet and morose. He had, after all, literally seen everything that someone in his position could see. He had been their chief medical officer since the early days of the war; nothing had shaken him. They had thought that nothing could shake him.
Nothing had. Nothing before this, at any rate.
Although there ARE Autobots in my little universe here that HAVE been assaulted, the extent of Cliffjumpers’ physical trauma was something that I was trying to make clear is completely new to their forces. A one time, surprise attack is one thing; long term sexual slavery, although feared and theorized, had never actually been seen before. Or I was TRYING to make that clear, anyway, but probably failed. xD
No one had said a word as they took their usual seats around the table. Bumblebee stared at Ratchet in shock, taking in the gloomy expression on his face. They were here to talk about Cliffjumper, and if Ratchet looked like this, then the news couldn’t be good. The yellow scout shook, still unable to get the image of the blue minibot he hadn’t even recognized as his best friend out of his mind.
Optimus Prime seemed similarly shocked at his long time friends’ countenance. Still, the meeting was started as it ordinarily was. “Ratchet, I believe that you have confirmed that it is Cliffjumper that was rescued from the Decepticons.”
The medic nodded once. “Confirmed. The medical codes match.”
I imagine every mecha has some sort of code on his core processor, sort of like a serial number. So, even if their processors/sparks ended up transplanted, there’s still a way to identify who the heck they are.
“How is he, Ratchet?” Prime gave the medic a piercing stare; the question had so much more to it then a simple polite query and they all knew it.
Ratchet took a deep breath; another bad sign that things were grim. “I’ve placed him in to a medically induced stasis until I can treat the most basic wounds. The rest will require months of rehabilitation, and that is just the physical aspect. Though, the psychological trauma is bound to be severe.”
Shocked surprise crossed multiple faceplates. Even Optimus seemed to frown, mask in place or not. “Months?”
The way I figure, mechanical parts can ordinarily be fixed up and replaced in a month or less. With the war waging so long, there’s bound to be some sort of efficiency involved with repair. Months of rehabilitation was, I figured, something unheard of.
Ratchet’s mouth pressed in to a thin line. “I have his medical scans on hand. However, I have to warn you that it’s.. Graphic.”
A moment of silence passed in stunned disbelief; Ratchet had never warned them of an image before now, and he had shown hundreds of horrible, terrible injuries in the past.
Usually, Ratchet’s all, “HEY, HERE’S THE SCANS, LOL, AWFUL HUH?!” when talking about things. ‘Cause he’s RATCHET.
“..Proceed.” The Prime granted warily.
A communicube was slid across the table. Ratchet continued to frown as he pressed at the glowing blue cube; an image flashed up and floated above the table.
I abuse those communicubes waaay too much after this segment. They’re like iPads, good for all sorts of things.
“This is Cliffjumpers’ last medical scan, taken during his annual physical. It’s as recent as two months before his capture.” A vague gesture was aimed at the image. “Although he wasn’t the healthiest of bots, he was still in good condition, and although his interface array was slightly larger then the standard minibot, it was still within normal parameters.”
Bumblebee shifted uncomfortably in his seat; he could see Mirage and Jazz doing the same. Talking about his best friends’ array made him more then a little uncomfortable. Although, he braced himself for it to get worse; this was just the ‘before’ image. The ‘after’, he feared, was going to be grotesque.
I actually have no idea who attends these high-level meetings. I also somehow keep leaving out Red Alert, who HAS to be there. Maybe he’s just been really quiet? *shrug*
A second tap was given to the cube. A new image came side-by-side with the old.
Horrified gasps went around the room; Bumblebee felt as if all fuel had been drained from his systems as soon as he saw it.
“This is Cliffjumper as of an hour ago.” Ratchet’s expression turned to a more familiar angry form; Bumblebee caught sight of it just for a moment, far too horrified by the image in front of him. “His valve has been stretched to nearly two and a half times the normal size. His internal circuitry has actually been pushed upwards and compressed as a direct result. His fuel tank shrank from what I believe is a combination of long term starvation and his own filtration system being pushed against it. His cord has been partially crushed in it’s housing, and I have to admit that I’m not surprised that his hips are dislocated. By the decay, his hips have been like that for some time, if not since day one.”
In my mind, since every Autobot essentially has the same interface system - cord, valve, they all got the same layout, just variations in size --, what had been done to Cliffjumpers’ body was being empathized by everyone in that room. You see someone get hit in the crotch, you wince in imagined pain; same thing here, except ten times worse.
Also, writing this, I realized that I have no idea what the insides of a mecha would look like. Just kind of made things up, here. ^^;
Oh, also, I blame Swindleslog for the dislocated hips idea. It actually didn’t occur to me until she brought it up in a comment. Which probably explains why he was walking in scenes where he probably shouldn’t have been *coughescapeattemptcough*...
Silence fell. From the corner of his vision, Bumblebee could see the same sickened expressions along several faceplates. He was only slightly surprised to see that even Prowl appeared disturbed.
As it was, a sick churning began to form deep in his tanks.
“This isn’t something that happens from a single assault.” Ratchet seemed to glare at the communicube, speaking in the slow calm manner that he had when keeping his temper at bay. “This is a long term effect caused by conditioning. This is from a sick minded glitch that knew exactly what they were doing and how to do it without killing someone. I have only seen wounds this severe on corpses before today.” The cube was tapped; both images vanished. “This was purposeful. This had to have been intentional, otherwise Cliffjumper wouldn’t even be alive right now. Frankly, I’m surprised he wasn’t screaming when you took him out of there.”
There came another long pause.
“..Primus.” Came, finally, from Jazz. “I knew that he was in pain, but I never would’ve thought..”
“Cliffjumper had been drugged.” Ratchet shook his head. “He probably wouldn’t have had the ability to tell you were he was injured even if you had asked.”
Bumblebee stared at Ratchet; from the corner of his optic, he could see several heads turn to stare at the medic. “Drugged?!”
An all out growl erupted from the CMO; the rage that he was infamous for threatened to release itself. As it was, he shook in obvious fury. “Sedation program. Something intended for surgery, something intended to help a patient, had been forced in to his systems. That sick.. There was absolutely no way that Cliffjumper would have even been able to move in this condition. To top it off, his sensors had actually been heightened, probably to counter the numbing effect the sedation would have had.”
The sedation program I used in this, I imagined, was something intended to keep an unruly or too-in-pain patient still and free of whatever agony they were in long enough to perform surgery or repair. Which is why Ratchet is so pissed off that a medical tool was abused like that.
The pit in his tank was growing worse. Bumblebee gulped to try and keep himself from purging; this was horrible. This was even more then that; his best friend had been suffering at the hands of a sick, depraved Decepticon for months with no way to defend himself. Suffering and waiting for help.
He should have found him sooner. Guilt began to rise; he should have been able to help his friend. His own interface array ached from sympathy alone; he couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like. Dislocated hips, an enlarged valve, repeated violation and torture; Cliffjumper shouldn’t have had to suffer that.
The sick feeling grew worse.
There came a loud retching noise; Bumblebee turned in alarm at the sound, only to gape in shock at the sight of Mirage purging in to the nearby garbage bin. Stoic, normally collected Mirage was purging.
Bumblebee had a mix of personal guilt as well as the sympathy; Mirage just had an ‘OHMYGOD’ reaction. I was trying to go for a bit of shock, that one of the most stoic and self-controlled bots felt ill enough to throw up, but I probably failed there. xD
“Extra precautions will have to be taken.” Optimus’s voice came in it’s usual calm tone, tinged with thought. Somehow, it helped to calm his churning tank. Bumblebee turned to look at the Prime. “There had been no inclination that Soundwave would ever act in this barbaric a fashion on an Autobot prisoner, and there are many Decepticons that have. If someone who had shown no signs of depravity would act in this manner, then it’s more likely then not that the other Decepticons would eagerly enact worse. We will need to be on guard to prevent something like this from happening again.”
In other words: “If SOUNDWAVE is doing shit like this, what would OTHER Decepticons do?! D:
Optimus looked around the room, glancing from face to face. “Until Cliffjumper gives express permission, all of what happened to him is classified. His identity, however, is not, and I believe it would give hope to the others if we allow everyone to know that he is safe and with us once more.” A quick nod was given to Jazz.
The third in command, still appearing sickened, nodded back. “Got it.”
“Adjourned.”
My chapters are short, but that is how I write ‘em. xD I usually reply on feedback to keep my muses fed, so I churn out itty bitty segments and hope for more ideas from other peoples’ comments.
It always amazed me that, no matter what the series - not counting Shattered Glass - Optimus has always had this calm, cool demeanor. Even Bayverse Optimus has this quiet fury to him, so I try to write THIS Optimus in a similar fashion. Eloquent enough to show just how damn smart he is, but not enough that people can’t understand him, but also completely controlled at all times. I think I’ve been doing pretty good so far.