wyntir_knight | Vingettes: Bad Day

Title: Bad Day
Fandom: G1 Transformers
Characters: Ratchet and Wheeljack, with appearances by my OCs: Red Eye, the Unnamed Neutral from Regrets, and far more OCs than I originally had planned.
Prompt: 022 – Enemies
Word Count: 4,229(and counting)
Rating: T
Summary: Ratchet and Wheeljack get caught behind enemy lines in the early days of the war on Cybertron.

A/N: This fic was originally intended to be a short little piece, but now it won’t end. It’s developed into a cast of thousands (okay 12) and gone to epic proportions (actually only 13 pages so far). Once it’s all done I’ll post the whole thing on the Cell and at

fanfic_100 once it’s completely done and all the kinks are ironed out. Part 1 is posted here and Part 2 is here.

Ratchet and Wheeljack ran through the ankle deep liquid that covered the tunnel floor, racing away from the sound of harsh Seeker laughter. The tunnel, for all its height, wasn’t wide enough for either Bot to transform. While it was a problem for the two Bots it would be more of a problem for the Seekers, with their wide wingspan in both robot and alternate mode.

“We have to slow down! We can’t just run from them,” Ratchet said stopping suddenly.

“Have you lost your mind?” Wheeljack asked, turning back to face Ratchet. “Even together we’re no match against one Seeker, let alone three, and you want to slow down?”

“We’re making too much noise. Plus, we have no idea of where we are or where we’re going,” Ratchet explained. “We need to find a hiding place, or a branch, or something.”

“Fine, okay,” Wheeljack said, “but we still have to hurry. I’ve got no desire to be on the receiving end of a Decepticon interrogation.”

They walked quickly down the tunnel, being more careful about splashing, both searching for access hatches or anywhere to hide.

“Most of these tunnels were built along the same lines, with access panels at regular intervals,” Wheeljack whispered. “We should be coming across one soon. … Unless they were built into the floor,” he added, his head fins flashing an embarrassed pink.

“Great …,” Ratchet muttered as he followed Wheeljack down the tunnel.

٭٭٭

Red Eye followed the trail the Autobots were leaving. The space was limited and it slowed his progress, be he was in no rush. After all, they had nowhere to go but straight into His waiting arms. Judging by the sounds coming from further up the tunnel it was obvious that the Autobots had finally grasped their predicament and had slowed. They were probably looking for a hiding place, but if Downburst was right, there was nowhere for them to hide. Red Eye laughed out loud at the thought and was pleased at the sharp echo. It was time to instil some fear in these two.

“Ye can’t hide from us!” he yelled. “I know exactly where ye are, so why don’t ye make this easier on all of us?”

It wasn’t exactly true. He knew they were further up the tunnel, but there was something about this sector that interfered with his sensors. Not that he needed them. He was a skilled enough tracker that he could have found these Autobots in the dark with his optics closed. Also, if he couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see him, and that must have had them petrified. As far as they knew, they were being chased by all three Seekers, Frequency and all his microbots. That was exactly the fear that he hoped to instil in them. By the time he was done, the Autobots wouldn’t know up from down.

“Here, Autobots!” he cried out, “You can run but ye can’t hide! Give us what we want and we’ll be … gentle.” He ran a clawed hand down the wall, creating a marvellous shriek of protesting metal.

Suddenly the few lights that illuminated the tunnel turned off with an audible snap and a cry filled the darkness.

“Frag,” Red Eye whispered.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack had been heading the way down the tunnel when the lights had gone off and Ratchet cried out in shock and surprise. His cry had been cut off suddenly followed by a loud crack. He spun around and shone his lights at the area where Ratchet had stood moments before, only to find the tunnel empty. There was a soft hissing of air behind him, but he received no further warning before a strong arm snaked around his neck, pulling him backwards.

“Shh! You won’t be hurt but you need to cooperate and be quiet. Understand?” a voice whispered. As the voice spoke he felt lips brush the back of one head fin and a slightly smaller mech pressed tightly up against his back.

Wheeljack nodded as much as the arm around his neck would allow. The grip didn’t lessen at all and he felt himself being pulled closer to the mech behind him and another arm snake around his waist. Then, suddenly, he was let go and sent sprawling to the floor.

“Where’s Ratchet?” he asked quietly, rolling over and peering into the darkness.

“He’s here and fine,” said a familiar voice, one that had a hint of the Towers in it. “I’m glad that you found your friend in one piece.”

The strange red and blue who had helped him all those months ago stepped out of the shadows.

“You? I didn’t expect to ever see you again,” Wheeljack said, getting up.

“If you had the sense to stay out of dangerous sectors we never would have met again,” the other mech said. He pulled out a small disruptor pistol and motioned toward Wheeljack’s side. “Now, be kind enough to provide me with your weapon.”

“What’s going on?” Wheeljack asked, narrowing his optics.

“That’s not for me to say. Now just do as you’re told and you’ll be fine,” the mech said. “The gun, please. And don’t try anything stupid. You might get me, but the others will get you.”

“What others?” Wheeljack asked, looking around.

The mech sighed. “If you don’t believe they’re there, then go ahead and try something. … No? Then hand over the weapon, please.”

Wheeljack pulled his gun from its holster and handed it over.

“Good,” said the mech. “Now head down that way.” He motioned down the tunnel with his pistol.

Wheeljack complied, examining this new tunnel. Unlike the one he had just left, this one was dry, wide enough for two medium sized mechs to walk side by side, and the ceiling was much lower, maybe forty feet high.

“So … Where are we going?” he asked conversationally.

His captor didn’t reply he simply prodded the engineer gently in the back with the pistol.

“Do you have a name at least? I’d like to know who my captor is,” Wheeljack said.

“I seem to recall telling you once that names cost, and you’re in no position to pay me,” the mech said.

“Well I can’t just call you ‘Hey You’. You’ve got to be called something, don’t you?” Wheeljack asked.

“If names are that important, then you can call me anything you like,” the mech said.

“Right, so how about Blue?” Wheeljack said. “So, Blue, where are we going?”

Blue didn’t respond he just poked Wheeljack in the back a little more forcefully.

Wheeljack sighed inwardly and continued on the designated path. After several minutes of walking, they arrived at a blank metal door.

“Open it. Push, don’t pull,” his captor instructed.

Beyond the door was a short, inclining tunnel leading to a large, domed room. Stadium seating lined the walls and a large podium sat in the middle, illuminated by a single beam of light coming from the ceiling. It was obvious from even a cursory glance that this area had not been used in a long, long time. Four doors led out of the room, one in each of the cardinal directions. From the northern door came Ratchet. Like Wheeljack, he had an armed escort, but apparently he had put up a fight because his hands were in binders and he had a nasty gash below his left optic.

“Ratch! You okay?” Wheeljack called out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ratchet bit out, glaring at his captors.

“I would appreciate it if you were both silent,” came a voice from the darkness beyond the pedestal.

A silver-grey mech stepped into the light and leaned against the pedestal.

“We’ve asked you here because you have something we need,” the mech said.

“Asked us here? Abducted is more like it!” Ratchet said, outraged.

The silver-grey mech waved dismissively in the medic’s direction. “If he talks again, shoot him. He’s not the one we wanted anyway.”

“What?!” both Ratchet and Wheeljack cried. Ratchet closed his mouth quickly as six high-powered rifles were brought to bear on him.

“We actually need you, Engineer,” the silver-grey said, stepping forward. “Or rather we need something you have.”

“What?” Wheeljack asked. “What do you want?”

“May I speak to you in private?” the mech said. “You’re friend will be fine as long as he behaves himself. And I’m sure he will.”

“We can talk here,” Wheeljack replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It appears that I didn’t make myself clear,” the mech said. “I will speak with you in private.”

Six guns were made ready to fire at Ratchet.

“Alright, fine!” Wheeljack said quickly, raising his hands. “We can talk anywhere you like, just tell your guys to lay off.”

“Wonderful!” the silver-grey said. “Go through that door and I’ll be right with you.”

With a last look at Ratchet, Wheeljack moved off through the indicated door. Once he was completely out of site, the silver-grey approached Ratchet.

“I had heard reports that you were quite the firecracker, but I didn’t believe it until now. I’m going to make this very clear, because there’s no point in having lies between us,” he said, running his hand over the side of Ratchet’s face. “I had planned on using you as leverage to get what I want from the Engineer, but if you put up any more of a fuss I will kill you. And I can assure you that not only will I prolong it as long as possible, but I will make it very, very painful. You’re not the only one who knows exactly where to hit to make it hurt.” With stunning speed, the silver-grey jabbed a finger into a gap between Ratchet’s neck and shoulder, sending the medic to the floor gasping in pain.

“I trust I’ve made myself clear,” the silver-grey said, turning away and exiting the room.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack found himself in a well-appointed office. A large metal desk sat in the middle of the room with a large chair behind it and two smaller guest chairs in front. Shelves lined the walls, all filled with datapads and various art pieces. It was truly beautiful, but Wheeljack had the feeling that if he were to scratch the surface veneer he’d find something rotten beneath.

“I’m glad we have the opportunity to speak in private,” the strange mech said, entering the room. “First, let us make introductions. My people call me Argent. Please, have a seat. I’d offer you a cube of high-grade, but I’m afraid we’ve been in short supply of late.”

“What do you want?” Wheeljack asked. He remained standing.

“Right to the point, I see,” Argent said, sitting in the large chair. “Here’s the situation, Wheeljack. My people and I are neutrals. We have no desire to get involved in your war, and yet, the Decepticons are constantly harassing us.”

“That’s because there can’t be neutrals in this war. The Decepticons won’t allow it; you’re either with them or against them,” Wheeljack said stiffly.

“Well, that’s not quite true,” Argent said, steepling his fingers. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind about the seat?”

“I’m sure,” Wheeljack said, firmly.

“Oh well. As I was saying, the Decepticons are fully willing to leave us alone if we’re able to present them with something to make it worth their while,” Argent said.

“And you’re going to give them me and Ratchet?” Wheeljack asked.

“Hardly,” Argent snorted. “No, what they want is that box of yours. I’m guessing that you either have it or the plans in your possession. Otherwise the Decepticons wouldn’t be combing the underground for you. You’re going to give me the device and I will let you go in Autobot territory.”

Wheeljack remained silent for a long time. Ratchet had been right that his invention had been far too dangerous to fall into ‘Con hands. He wasn’t about to hand it over to anyone, let alone these unknown neutrals. But he also realized that they had no chance of escaping on their own.

“Look, I’ll make it simple for you, Wheeljack. If you don’t give me the plans I’ll kill Ratchet right in front of you. And if that doesn’t convince you then I have several people who will happily delve into your memory core and pull the information forcibly,” Argent said. He could have been talking about the weather for all the emotion he showed.

“I … I can’t give you what you want. But if you’re worried about your safety then come with us to Iacon. I’m sure you can come up with an agreement with Prime,” Wheeljack said.

“That’s not going to happen,” Argent said sadly. “I think you might change your mind in time. Especially considering that I will get what I want with your cooperation or without it.” He stood and opened the office door. “You may as well head back out. I do believe we’re done here for the moment.”

٭٭٭

Red Eye continued to move through the tunnels slowly, searching for any sign of the missing Autobots. There were rumours among the lower ranked ground troops that this area was haunted. None of the Seekers believed it, but it was true that there were some mysterious disappearance of supplies and equipment in this area. Red Eye suspected that there was a nest of Neutrals somewhere nearby.

He stopped dead in his tracks and thought about the possibility of Neutrals. The Autobots had disappeared without a trace. Neutrals would know this area like the backs of their scraplet-crusted hands and would likely be smart enough to figure out that the Decepticons were after the two Autobots. It was time to make a gamble.

“I’m here fer th’ Autobots and I’m empowered t’ make a deal fer them,” he called out into the darkness.

His words echoed on the walls, but there was no other response.

“I know yer out there and I know ya have the Autobots. I can make a deal and I can make this very much worth yer while.”

There was a dull scraping noise and a soft splash from behind him. Red Eye turned around slowly, nonchalantly.

“You’ve caught our interest, Seeker,” a voice called out of the darkness. The word seeker was dripping with scorn.

“Tell me where to go then,” Red Eye said.

“You stay right there. I’ll be acting as intermediary until we’re sure we can trust you,” the voice said.

“Very well,” Red Eye said, sounding bored.

“We have the plans for the device you seek. We will provide them to you on the condition that you move out of this area,” the voice said.

“That’s not likely t’ be happenin’,” Red Eye said. “We happen t’ like this sector.”

“No, this sector is of strategic importance to you. You don’t think that we’re dumb enough to not realize that this is a direct path to your door?” the voice said. “Our deal is as follows. We give you the plans and we keep this sector guarded from invasion. In return you leave us alone.”

“You know, we could just take the plans,” Red Eye said.

“Unlikely,” the voice scoffed. “If you could do that you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. And don’t tell me that you’re just one mech. I know full well that you and your trine mates failed to catch the Autobots before. What chances do you think you have against us? Especially when your external sensors don’t work.”

Red Eye took all this in. He could turn this to his advantage, get the plans and then come back and destroy these Neutrals. But he couldn’t appear too eager. And he wanted the pot sweetened. He would be in for a glossa-lashing when he got back to base if he didn’t have something good to show for his time.

“The plans aren’t enough, I’m afraid. Not fer what yer suggestin’”

“Alright then,” the voice said. “We can throw in the Engineer as well, but that sweetens the pot a bit too much. We’ll need you to look the other way if a few of your supplies go missing.”

“We’re not about t’ be supplyin’ a bunch o’ Neutrals. If you want a meal an’ shelter then you’ll have t’ join th’ cause,” Red Eye replied.

“If this device is what we both suspect it is, then you ‘Cons will be rolling in fuel. You’ll hardly need to worry about a few cases going missing.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s true. But this deal of yers favours you rather than us. You should know by now that that’s not how it’s going t’ work,” Red Eye said, trying to hide his confusion. He really needed to find out what that blasted box had been.

“Well, it’s the deal. You can take it or leave it,” the voice said.

“Alright, fine, ye’ve got yerself a deal. But it’s conditional. I want t’ see th’ Autobot. He’s of no use t’ us if he’s scrapped,” Red Eye said.

“I’ll have to talk to my superiors about that one. You’ll have to stay here,” the voice said.

“Fine,” Red Eye said with a dramatic sigh of defeat. He could always renege on the deal later. In fact, he would.