Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a routine stop at a spaceport for supplies and a half cycle break. It was something they’d done thousands of times before. But this time… this time they were attacked by an enemy no Autobot had seen since before the Golden Era of Cybertron.
Optimus hadn’t even recognized the Quintessan Ship when he first saw it. His first thought was that it was a very large ship to be docking at was essentially an asteroid floating around in space. Optimus had only put together what sort of ship it was when Ratchet let out a panicked garble of static and said the term quint, an old derogatory term for Quintessans that he’d come across in an old data slug that somehow escaped the Great Purge.
At this point in time though, he was sincerely wishing he’d paid more attention to the other information regarding Quintessans or that the Academy still taught them how to deal with them. Because maybe then he could’ve done better at protecting his team. Because maybe he could’ve gotten them away from that spaceport and back to Cybertron or anywhere that wasn’t right here!
Maybe then he wouldn’t have to watch them rip Bumblebee’s throat cablings apart while the grayed frames of the rest of his team lay broken on the ground around him.
Maybe Optimus could’ve killed more of them before his vision was fractured and his weapon taken.
Maybe Optimus wouldn't be pinned, screaming his vocalizer out!
Maybe Optimus would have been able to do something…
Anything…
The crushing feeling of a Quintessan tentacle was gone in almost an instant and Optimus felt his vents sputter as they could finally open up. His chassis burned still but Optimus was able to partially sit himself up. He tried feeling around him but his digits kept touching things and Optimus didn't want to know what they were. His visual feed in one optic was dark and the other was fuzzy and glitched. After several failed attempts at recalibration, Optimus came to a chilling understanding:
He was blind.
Whatever the Quintessan’s had done had blinded him. How permanently, he wasn't sure, but right now, it meant he'd have to find Bumblebee without his visual feed. Optimus grit his denta and tried to hear what was going on around him but his audio was damaged as well. It sounded like he was hearing through a funnel. Letting out a spit of static, Optimus was so focused on trying to sit up straighter that he failed to notice the massive mech that had crouched down in front of him until a large servo under his chin forced his helm up.
“How surprising.” The voice was deep and rough and Optimus could make out the sound of a high powered engine, but nothing else.
“Who are you!?" Optimus spat out, trying to pull his helm back and away from the servo holding him. He couldn’t.
“You seem to have plenty of energy despite the condition you are in.” The mech states, moving Optimus’ helm side to side. Optimus’ audial feed was starting to clear up but everything still sounded muted.
“What?” Optimus asked. An internal call came and Optimus answered it with zero hesitation.
COMMUNICATION CODE: DESIGNATION (B-127): BUMBLEBEE
Bossbot
Cons
COMMUNICATION CODE: DESIGNATION (OP-X): OPTIMUS PRIME
Bumblebee!
Oh thank Primus you are alive!
What is happening? My optics were damaged.
COMMUNICATION CODE: DESIGNATION (B-127): BUMBLEBEE
Cons busted in
killed tentacle freaks
COMMUNICATION CODE: DESIGNATION (OP-X): OPTIMUS PRIME
Are you okay?
COMMUNICATION CODE: DESIGNATION (B-127): BUMBLEBEE
Hurts
Can’t talk
Cons weird…
COMMUNICATION CODE: DESIGNATION (OP-X): OPTIMUS PRIME
What?
The connection went silent and Optimus began to worry if something had happened to Bumblebee.
“Have you finished your conversation?” The voice asked and Optimus flinched as he was able to finally hear it clearly. “Ah, good, your audials have reset.”
“This voice… you’re Megatron.” Optimus hissed. He’d seen enough recordings in his days at the Academy to recognize the leader of the Decepticons, even without his sight. The mech had a very distinct tone, though having that right in his audial wasn’t the best for his wires right then.
“So you recognized my voice. You are far too young to have been around during the war… Does your Council still permit my speeches to be accessed? Your companion did not recognize me, nor my General who is currently keeping him standing so it seems my image is not circulated at least.” Megatron mused.
“I went to the Academy.” Optimus gritted.
“So they’ve limited knowledge of me to only a select few, how simple.” Megatron said. “Though not what is important now, little Autobot. You and your companion are in need of a medic. Without one, both of you will be in the Well before the evening cycle ends.”
“Why do you care?” Optimus asked.
“Normally I would not.” Megatron agreed. “However, I do not believe in squandering talent regardless of faction.”
“You aren’t making any sense.” Optimus frowned.
“Then I will offer you a choice: Stay here and join the Well, or accept my aid.” Megatron said.
Optimus grit his denta. He wanted to tell Megatron to go to the pits, that he’d never accept a con’s help, especially not his. He wanted to be the stubborn, prideful Autobot that he was. But this wasn’t just about him. Bumblebee was seriously injured, even if Optimus couldn’t see him. Bumblebee needed medical attention.
“We will accept your aid…” Optimus said, albeit reluctantly. “But Bumblebee has to stay with me.”
“Smart mech.” Megatron said. He released Optimus’ helm and grabbed him by the upper arm, yanking the smaller mech to his feet. Optimus stumbled at the sudden movement but managed to right himself fairly quickly, ignoring the ringing in his helm. “Blitzwing, bring the minicon over here.”
Optimus was about to ask why Megatron was still holding him when he felt something much smaller and lighter grab him from behind. Optimus turned his aching helm back as a string of painful static escaped from who he assumed was Bumblebee. Optimus wrapped his free arm around the smaller bot, giving him a careful squeeze to the best of his limited strength.
“I got you, Bee.” Optimus said in a hushed tone. Megatron released his grip on Optimus and instead begun to steer the mech in a certain direction. Optimus and Bumblebee fumbled a bit before walking properly.
“What is your name?” Megatron asked as they walked.
“Optimus Prime.” Optimus said shortly.
“And what is a Prime doing this far from Cybertron?” Megatron mused. There was a strange lithe to the warlord’s tone that let dread sink in Optimus’ tank.
“Repairing spacebridges.” Optimus responded with a slight snip.
“I will find out the truth.” Megatron added, amused at Optimus’ supposed lie.
“I’m not lying.” Optimus frowned.
“Who would put a mech of your capabilities in charge of repairing decommissioned spacebridges?” Megatron asked with a scoff.
Optimus didn’t want to answer so he remained silent. Megatron didn’t seem interested in pressing Optimus for any more answers either since the mech turned his attention to the other Decepticons around them. Each time Optimus felt one get closer, his grip on Bumblebee tightened slightly. He really wished he could pick the bot up, knowing it would be easier on the minicon if he was carried but Optimus feared that the moment he stopped walking, his systems would shut down.
Which must’ve been what happened because Optimus found himself jolting awake in the dark with no idea where he was. Optimus vaguely remembered getting onto Megatron’s ship but given that his optics were giving no residual feed, he couldn’t be sure. Feeling around, Optimus figured he was in a berth and there was someone holding him by his shoulder pauldrons and telling him to settle down.
“Easy, easy. I know you can’t see nothing but you're in a clinic!” A slightly panicked voice said. It wasn’t Megatron, far too high pitched and with an Iacon undertone to it.
“Where’s Bumblebee?” Optimus asked, trying to look around. He tries to recalibrate his visual feed but it wouldn’t respond. Moving his servos to his helm, Optimus tried again. “What did you do to my optics?”
“Sit back and vent.” The voice said, pushing Optimus against the back of the berth. “Bumblebee is fine, he’s in recharge on the berth beside you.”
When Optimus tried to look for him, the medic held him tighter, preventing him front moving. “Stop moving around, you just woke up from major surgery! Are you trying to pop your welds?” His tone reminded Optimus of Ratchet. “Now stay calm and listen to me. The quints did some pretty extensive damage to your optics. They didn’t just destroy your optics but also the hardware underneath. We had to remove everything and shut off your visual feed.”
“Can it be fixed?” Optimus asked.
“No.” The medic said bluntly. “There’s nothing left for us to attach new optics to.”
Optimus wanted to scream. He wanted to cuss the medic out, tell him to do better, to bring him to a real Autobot medic instead. But he didn’t… he couldn’t. Because it wouldn’t be fair and it probably wouldn’t make a difference. All Optimus could do was cover his faceplate with his servos and slump down against the back of the berth. He was grateful that Bumblebee at least wouldn’t see him like this.
“What about Bumblebee? Is he ok?” Optimus asked.
“He’ll live… but they tore out his voice box when they shredded his throat cables. It’s a small miracle that he’s still functioning.” The medic said. “He won’t be speaking through a voice box anytime soon. We simply don’t have the parts to fix him.”
“I… I understand, thank you.” Optimus said in defeat. He was feeling tired, his frame felt heavy, like he was magnetized to the berth.
He’d failed.
He failed his team. He failed Bumblebee. He failed Cybertron and the Autobots and Magnus and everybot who had ever met him! He'd gotten his team killed, and the one survivor nearly joined them, he was now an invalid! How could he have let this happen? How could he let anyone of this happen? Why was he such a failure?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
SYSTEM WARNING: MEDICAL SHUT DOWN ENGAGED