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They called him Unicron. After the thick of the raging battle on the field. During the beginning of the fight to escape a fate much worse than death. They sent the best subjects to him- the bots that were better off being put to work for the Cause, instead of being sent to the smelter for spare parts. Some never survived the procedures and ended up being melted anyway. Yet, orn after orn Ratchet crafted misery, that no one else would have deemed possible.
They called him Unicron. But he wasn’t. If they knew the truth…
---
The Decepticon frontliner had spunk, Ratchet would give him that. Traitors knew damn well what would happen to them if they were ever caught, although most of them never got out of the fortress alive to begin with. But this one… Some brother bonds just couldn’t be broken. Unfortunately for poor Sideswipe, Sunstreaker never did listen to much reasoning, when he could fight dirty instead. Fortunately, however, the traitor wound up in his care after his brother’s treatment instead of the smelter’s.
Sideswipe… Sideswipe, blind to the wonders Ratchet bestowed on him, did not see the fortune in it.
“ Slagging sp- zzzt- spawn of Unicron! Frag- zzzt- you! I hope- zzzt- you rot!” Sideswipe snarled through his hoarse, staticky voice box. “When I get- zzzt- my servos back, I’ll- zzzt- strangle you so hard that-”
“Oh come now…” Ratchet tsked in return, supplying the frontliner a disappointed expression. “Almost everyone has two servos, and five digits on each. But now… Look at you! You’re special now, because of my gift! You should thank me!”
Sideswipe remained silent for a moment, a flabbergasted expression morphing across his faceplates. His optics flashed in disgust and rage, as he began thrashing.
“Thank you? Thank you?! -ZZZT- I’m going to slagging- zzzt- murder you! How dare you call this a gift? Zzzt- This is torture!” Sideswipe screeched in ever-increasing decibels. “HEY! Where the frag- zzzt- do you think you’re going? Get back here- zzzt- with my servos!”
Ratchet didn’t reply as he walked out of the medical bay. The servo saws he gave Sideswipe would be very useful in the energon mines soon enough. One orn the frontliner would come to appreciate them. They always did one way or another.
It stung that they weren’t instantly grateful, but he knew they would be. Between life and death, he spared their lives every time. But for now, he didn’t have time to brood. He had a delivery to make.
---
They called him Primus. After the thick of the raging battle on the field. During the beginning of the fight to save lives in the Medbay. They sent the worse cases to him- bots that should have been offline instantly, yet somehow clung to live. Some were too far gone, and letting them go would cause them less misery in the long run. Yet, orn after orn Ratchet performed miracles, that anyone else would have written off as impossible.
They called him Primus. But he wasn’t. If they knew the truth…
---
The twins would be the death of him one orn, Ratchet just knew it. Their insane battle tactics, idiotic pranks, and so-called brotherly bonding sessions would bring him over to the edge surely. It was for the latter that resulted in Sideswipe occupying the medical bay for the last couple of joors. In the latest 'Better Twin Competition,' Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had turned the base’s obstacle course up to its highest settings. Fortunately, Sunstreaker was on solid ground when the power failure occurred. Sideswipe was not as fortunate, having just reached the top of the second-largest tower of the course. Granted, Sideswipe had fallen from higher places before and came out fine. Unfortunately, such places didn’t usually have sharp spikes waiting in the pit below. Ratchet had no clue who approved that part of the course, but he intended to have a long chat with the perpetrator later.
“Primus, Ratch, you’re a real lifesaver, you know?” Sideswipe laughed, hopping off the berth. Instantly the young frontliner began flexing his new servos, testing out the mobility.
“Take it easy now, Sideswipe,” Ratchet cautioned, folding his arms. “I can’t afford you losing any more servos. Our stockpile is very limited as it is.”
Sideswipe grinned back with an expression that seemed just a bit too innocent. As if that wasn’t enough the cheeky prankster gave him a salute. “No problemo, Doc. I’ll take good care of them. Especially after Sunny repaints them to anything but this weird cyan and white. I mean, it is the least he can do, right? Anyway, ciao, Ratch! Catch ya at poker night later!”
Ratchet sighed as Sideswipe walked away. Like everyone else, the frontliner thought he was some big savior. Little did they know that with every repair he gave them, he’d just be sending them out to damage themselves again. By healing them back to the way they were, he just opened them up for further attack.
It didn’t sit right with him, yet there was no time to mull over the consequences of his actions now. Their inventory was very low now, and with minimal supply lines available on Earth, he had to make alternate arrangements instead.
---
He was The Merchant, charged with dealing out deadly miracles. He was aligned with both the good and evil and journeyed to wherever the bells of destruction tolled louder. In one land, he bought the life goods that no mech willingly sold to him. They cursed the thought of his name. In the other, he sold them back at the discounted price of another dance with death. They praised his presence. In both, he served as the herald to the gods, carrying out their judgments in judgeless fashion.