"Assist?"
At Nathan's offer, Scalpel paused his sorting of the salvaged components. His bulbous optics swiveled toward Nathan, flickering with a mechanical suspicion. "Ze-ze-ze~ Since you are so eager to contribute, follow me."
"As you command, Doctor Scalpel."
Nathan trailed behind the diminutive medic, his heavy footsteps echoing through the vault. They approached a massive, rectangular metal plinth in the center of the lab. Like most Cybertronian technology, it was a brutalist design—all hard angles and cold, unpainted alloy.
Scalpel scrambled onto a control console and barked a command: "Tentacle-Bot!"
"Present, Master."
"Deploy the Diagnostic Cradle."
"Immediately, Master."
With a heavy, grinding sound of metal on metal, the rectangular plinth split down the middle. It expanded into a wide, elongated metal slab, while various mechanical manipulators and data-probes extended from the undercarriage like the legs of a centipede.
This looks less like a desk and more like a butcher's block, Nathan thought, a flicker of dread pulsing through his sensors.
"Lie down, little one," Scalpel ordered, adjusting the calibration of the neural probes. "My laboratory hasn't hosted a fresh subject since its completion. Consider yourself fortunate—you are the first Decepticon to experience the cradle."
Nathan's optical shutters twitched. He wanted to tell the Doctor that he wasn't particularly interested in being a "pioneer," but he kept his vocalizer silent.
I thought I was supposed to be a research assistant. I didn't realize I was the research material.
Staring at the ceiling while Scalpel scuttled across his chest plates, Nathan felt a profound sense of resignation. He imagined a future conversation with the other drones, T-19 and T-20, about their respective duties. They would brag about field missions while he had to explain that his "contribution" involved being a glorified battery tester.
But he knew the reality. Scalpel hadn't asked for an assistant to write code; he needed a live specimen to test the stability of Starscream's Synthetic Fusion Cores.
Nathan had initially tried to refuse. The risks were obvious—if Scalpel dug too deep, he might find the human consciousness buried beneath the Decepticon protocols. But his reluctance had evaporated the moment Scalpel offered a bribe: a full reinforcement of his external armor plating with specialized high-density alloys. Combined with Scalpel's promise to focus only on the core and not his neural architecture, Nathan had accepted the deal. In this world, better armor meant a higher chance of surviving the inevitable battle at Hoover Dam.
Meanwhile, Starscream was leading the remaining six drones through the Primary Data-Artery of the base. This subterranean corridor connected the various functional sectors like a winding metal spine, lit by the flickering glow of industrial lamps.
The base was a masterpiece of hidden engineering, carved out by automated worker-drones under Starscream's secret direction. He reached the end of the corridor, stopping before a massive, blast-shielded door. After entering a complex sequence of codes, the door hissed open.
Starscream led the T-series units inside. Through the closing gap of the door, rows upon rows of storage arrays were visible, resembling a library for mechanical giants.
A moment later, the door opened again. Starscream stepped back into the corridor alone. His six new soldiers were nowhere to be seen.
Back in the lab, Nathan lay motionless on the diagnostic slab.
Two thick data cables were fused to his chest plates, trailing back to a bizarre, oscillating machine nearby. The testing had begun two hours ago. Scalpel had inserted the probes directly into his power bus, claiming he needed a "stress test" of the Synthetic Core's output.
Nathan suspected the slab was only necessary because Scalpel didn't want to chase a standing drone around the room. Not far away, the medic was hunched over a display monitor, his optics focused on a 3D holographic projection of the blue core spinning within Nathan's chest.
So Starscream actually pulled it off, Scalpel muttered to himself, his limbs tapping a rapid rhythm against the console. The output is lower than a natural Spark, but the energy density is equivalent to a Mid-tier unit. No wonder the activation held.
Scalpel's eyes glowed with a calculating yellow light. He had a problem. He had promised Soundwave to keep an eye on Starscream's movements. But as a Commander, Starscream was impossible to track directly, and now he had his own private squad to run errands.
I need someone to find the Black Widow's ship for me while I'm stuck here, Scalpel thought. His optics drifted toward Nathan. A pawn in the right place...
"What's happening?"
A cold sensation, like a sudden drop in voltage, washed over Nathan's frame. He lifted his head, scanning the lab, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
[ WARNING! ]
[ ENERGY DRAIN DETECTED: UNKNOWN UPLINK. ]
[ TERMINATE EXTERNAL DATA-FLOW IMMEDIATELY. ]
Nathan sighed, mentally dismissing the warning. These prompts had been popping up for two hours. However, he was starting to feel... hollow.
"Doctor Scalpel," Nathan said, his voice straining. "I'm experiencing a significant power drop. I think the core is reaching its floor-threshold."
"Hmm? Already?" Scalpel checked the monitor. "Only thirty percent remains? Ge-ge-ge~ Starscream's little batteries don't have much of a capacity, do they?"
Nathan felt a spike of panic. "Doctor, I need a recharge."
"Don't whine, little one." Scalpel waved a manipulator dismissively. "I can't test a dead core. I'll provide a top-off."
Scalpel paused the diagnostic and hopped onto Nathan's chest, ripping the data cables free. Nathan felt an immediate surge of relief as the external drain was severed.
"Wait here. I'll get the fuel cells." Scalpel barked toward the shadows: "Tentacle-Bot!"
"Ready, Master."
"Bring the high-grade Energon cubes from the secure locker."
The Tentacle-Bot appeared within seconds, seemingly materializing from the vents. Nathan watched it, genuinely impressed by the drone's efficiency. I need to ask Scalpel how he programmed that thing, he thought. A loyal assistant like that would make the Hoover Dam job a lot easier.