ShellShock - Ch. 57

Shell Shock

Writers: Denny and Leila
Rating: PG-RG
Warnings: Ratchet/Azimuth. Violence.
Disclaimer: We value our lives too much to even dare think about claiming Ratchet and Alister as our own. We borrow them for an RP, so don't worry. [Put the Wargroks back into your cage!]
Summary: Everyone's nightmare is to wake up in a cold, dark place without a clue where one is. Sadly, that's what's happened to us.  What's even better, we have monsters and weird encounters to endure as well. And then there's them…
Lucky, right? If I ever get out of here, I will need some therapy sessions.



Chapter 57


--


“I swear, hadn’t the worker restrained the Lombax and dragged him out, I’d have shot him, Shapeshifter threat or not!”

Metal squealed as Nefarious dragged his claws over his opposite arm each. His right optic was twitching and smoke rose from his head. The butler sighed and implored quietly how he had earned the punishment of such a moody master.

“Replacement monitors will be brought in an hour. For now you will have to make do with the small monitor.” A moment of pause from Lawrence. “Besides, we should be happy that Ratchet seems to have forgotten – or rather does not care – about that one part in our agreement.”

“He’s too caught up in his revenge for the elder to even consider quitting even if he should remember.

“Now to something really important. How is the progress in our research on that substance you found on the other worker’s clothes, uuh, Bar’s?”

“As I have told you time and time again, and even more often than I should to a mad scientist, any analysis I could possibly make is inconclusive due to the absence of sufficient examination material. So, unless we capture a Shapeshifter, and experiment on it, we will not know if my discovery occurred due to that material or not.”

“Then we have to. Or do you have any stray matter lying around I should know about?” Nefarious lifted one optic more than the other, tapping his arm impatiently.

“Of course not, Nefarious.” Lawrence shook his head and sighed. “But it would be much easier if we could find Bar.”

“If he’s still alive after the substance was done with him.”

“Perhaps when he escaped the facility he came into contact with the source of my research.” A pause. “If that is the case, then he might very well be all right.”

“And if you knew that, why is he still outside and NOT HERE?”

“Because I do not possess psychic powers to track down any individual out there.” The butler wiggled his fingers. “But maybe you could ask your dull minions outside to look for him.”

“Fine. Those idiots could use some exercise, anyway.”

--

“If you hit me in the face again, I’ll fuckin’ tranquilize ya till ya only see stars!”

Dragging a squishie around was one thing. Dragging a squishie away from the doctor’s personal weapon arsenal was another that drove him nuts. “Stop it, Ratchet! Ya can’t just go and raid the whole storage room--”

“I doubt he even cares where I’m currently!!” He was hanging onto the handle, jerking it as much as he could while Zane pulled on him as he did with the door. “I need all the firepower I can get-”

A metal punch across his face sent him flying across the corridor.

“SNAP OUT OF IT, YOU GOD DAMN IDIOT!”, the robot screamed, processors cracking. “Do you really think you can just RUN UP TO THEM AND KILL THEM ALL OFF? You really think you’re that good? THEN I’M SORRY, YOU ARE NOT. YOU JUST FUCKED UP ROYALLY. YOU JUST LOST YOUR LOVER AND THAT SUCKS. But you know what sucks even more?” He walked over to the Lombax, yanking him up and crashing him against the wall. “YOU’RE ABOUT TO DO THE SAME FUCKING THING AGAIN BY RUNNING RIGHT INTO THEIR ARMS!”

“IN CASE YOU NOTICED, I FIRST WANTED TO GET MORE WEAPONS TO HAVE A CHANCE ON MY OWN. Do you know how fucking hard it was each time to kill even one of these freaks with my PARTNER AND NOW. I’M. ALONE.”

Ratchet was vibrating in Zane’s grasp, eyes nearly blind in rage. His voice broke now and then, shrill and deep like bumping over glass.

“I know I can’t kill them yet. Not all of them at once and not yet, but I will. I goddamned will!! I WILL!”

“I know you will,” the robot replied, processors gritting out the words slowly, “But raiding Nefarious’ weapon stash won’t help ya much ‘cuz it ain’t specialized on Shapeshifter targets!” That it was the doctor’s secret material designed to kill Ratchet in a possible stand-off he better not relayed.

“Look, ya need to cool yer head. I know, it’s easy for a robot to say, we can just cram all programs away, but ya can’t go in with that much anger in yer eyes. It’ll blind ya, that’s it. Just… talk to Lawrence. Have him give you whatever is suitable, okay?”

Ratchet’s eyes had squeezed shut, the edges of the lids glistening treacherously. The robot quietly watched him, eye display dimming. Then he loosened his grip and let the Lombax down.

“I’ll help ya as best I can. Picked up some coordinates… Potentially where they were last. I’ll also try and squeeze through some weaponry we don’t officially distribute yet to anyone. Just… Just--” He fell to his knees and rested his head against Ratchet’s shoulder.

“Don’t kill yourself. I don’t want to lose another friend.”

The pain catapulted from his eyes into Ratchet’s throat as they shot open. Lose another. Lose more people he cared about. His perception fell from thundering, screaming, pulsing, ablaze into cold, bitter ashes around his chest. He couldn’t hold onto his anger, because what did it have to keep itself alive?

Nothing.

Just a tantrum that solved nothing and blinded him.

Swallowing, he settled his chin on top of Zane’s head.

He didn’t want to lose himself. But there were only two left that currently still could hold him. And only one was here with him.

Nobody else. Nothing else. Just nothing.

“O-okay.”

Fingers curled into Ratchet’s shoulders. A silent word of thank you was uttered, not audible, but quietly known between them. Then, wordlessly the robot rose to his feet, hand sliding down and loosely holding onto the Lombax’s wrist. As he pulled the organic with him to the Lombax’ quarters, he knew that this in itself was not necessary anymore. He would not run off on his own, at least for the day. But seeing, losing people at such a rapid rate had torn open old, badly healed wounds. He knew how Ratchet felt. The amount of pain that had to be there. And remembering it, after he had tried his best to shut them off…

The door closed behind them. At least they would be able to lick each other’s wounds until they had calmed down.

---

The steak pushed its way with elbows and knees into Ratchet’s stomach, one bite at a time. He had barely tasted it, instead washed it down with large gulps of water that flooded his insides coldly.

At least his stomach wasn’t cramping around air anymore.

“Thanks, Zane.” His voice scratched. The robot only nodded, staring vacantly into space. Fingers curled and uncurled as he sorted out his memory banks, before he turned his gaze to Ratchet.

“Ya know, there’s something I really miss.”

“What would that be?” Actually Ratchet rather would have remained in the unknown, because how many events and information revealed to him had been positive?

"Hacking. The pure joy of hacking and getting into other people's servers. Reaping the rewards off it." The robot sighed lowly. "Simple things. Walk through the streets and observe how the world tries frantically to find you. And you stand there, knowing exactly that they cannot catch you. All those people in power - and they are immobilized before you."

Heh. Somehow, that mindset didn't surprise Ratchet. He didn't smile, but his eyes gained some shine back as he leant his chin on his hand.

"I know this place's restricted, but should that stop a great hacker like you?"

"It stops me with the workload. Besides, Nefarious paid off my bail - 25 million bolts. I kind of owe him to do the job well, yanno." Zane scratched his cheek. "But someday... when I worked that off, I'm gonna go solo again."
"So, the big bad unknown terror of the business and data world."

"No terror. Just fun." A glint of red appeared in the robot's eye display. "Nothing is better than being in your element. I just wanna be back to the days where I could do whatever I wanted."

"Except when the galactic police forces caught you."

"That was one time." The robot glared at him with a little bit of heat. "And that is only because someone initiated a LOCKDOWN on Cobalia!"

Ratchet offered a one-sided shrug.

"Hey, should have been prepared for that. It was under Tachyon's rule after all."

"He never caught me. Too busy with his vendetta against the Lombaxes." Zane waved with his hand. "Now that he's gone, I gotta be a bit more careful - but that's that. Nothing to be unprepared for."

"Except for unexpected lockdowns."

"Didn't expect an intergalactic hero to chime in. Nah, now I know I gotta keep my tabs on more than just the government authorities."

"As long you don't hurt anybody, indirectly or directly, I think I can let your stuff slide. It's not like I don't cause property damage on a regular basis too, anyway."

“I never hurt anyone. Except the ones that deserve a beatin'." Zane laughed and stood up, stretching. "And I'll keep off your accounts... at least from now on."

"O- WHAT?!"

"Ever wondered why your accounts always hit zero like nothing?" The robot licked over its fingertips as he looked at Ratchet with a mischievous glint. "I mean, I looked at your records before, of course. Ya really recharge yer accounts anyway, so I thought I'll just hold yer heroism ta trial by fire."

"If I had ever cared for the money, I'd have done it like Qwark and start a franchise about me. Besides, it's not like I started even half of the 'rescuing business' cases on my own." Ratchet grunted. "Do you know how much it sucks when you just want to chill, some random people kidnap you from home or force you to flee to a different galaxy?"

"Don't I know." Zane's eye displays rolled. "Get too much of a reputation and people wanna see ya. Without appointment."

"Qwark has the reputation, Clank and me have the work... And Clank will be so mad that he never noticed our accounts being hacked."

"Ya mean Secret Agent Clank? Never woulda thought he'd get angry. Seems like something outta character."

“I mean Clank. Because that would be because the film character and he are not the same person.” Ratchet resisted the urge to face-palm. Really, Zane? Though, it was true – Clank rarely did get angry. At least past a certain level. Even then he was rather reserved about showing it.

“Anyway – as long nobody gets hurt or anythin’, I don’t care what yer doing in the future. There’s enough on our plates, what with Nefarious and whoever else who wants to take Tachyon’s place.”

“Likewise.” The robot looked over to him with a smirk. “Not gonna tap yer funds in particular anymore. Just keep an eye out.” A pause as he finally took a moment to look down at himself, grimacing as he saw purple stains all over himself. “By the by, can I… yanno. Take a shower. I dun think my colleagues would like me purple.”

The Lombax’s stomach threatened with a clench to turn itself inside out. “Yeah, you should…”

That color shouldn’t have been as vivid as it still was after more than an hour since Zane had killed the Shapeshifter. It was as if even in death the Shapeshifters were laying their claim on the robot. An appreciative nod came as reply, before the worker vanished inside the shower room, leaving the Lombax alone to himself for a few moments. Ratchet released the breath he hadn’t noticed he had been holding in. Lead curled around his limbs and eyes now that any distraction had left for the moment.

He needed to plan. He needed to work out a plan of action how to get down the Shapeshifters. His breathing grew heavier as the phantom memory of blood not his own, that hadn’t been spilt in his proximity, curled in the back of his throat. Keep calm. Keep in control. You gotta do this.

But how would he go about it? He did not even know where they would be. How many were left. If he could kill them head on. But maybe… maybe he could hunt them down individually. Somehow. Alone?

That chuckle that forced itself out of his mouth was bitter. Sure, just let him get his will sorted out before. He sorta didn’t care much about dying, but he would have taken down only one with this useless death.

Fingers were lifted gingerly as he looked at them. He really, really wanted to wring their necks. One by one. Up and personal. But, as much as that would have been a satisfying way to exact revenge, with Shapeshifters needing no air, and able to transform out of his grip, it would not only end badly. It would end with none of them dying. He needed something better, something lethal yet personal. The best tool he had was nanotech – lots of nanotech. Flooding the battle area with it spelled trouble if they noticed, however, and it would still be not close enough.

But most of his weapons could be upgraded with different materials. Why not with nanotech that would be released upon enemy contact?

A grin appeared on his lips. Oh yes, that was one viable option. Not quite personal enough, but he could at least get close if he really wanted that. Maybe get his razor talons back and infuse them with Nanotech mechanisms to slice them in the back. The blades needed to be sharper than any metal or other structure they could imitate, for slicing them up vertically.

No, suddenly went through his mind, That isn’t enough. I need something with which I can pierce through their bodies. Gorge their eyes out. Just like they did with him. An eye for an eye.

Dismember them. Disembowel them. Nefarious could dissect them for all he liked.

Feverish, his imagination wandered ever faster and faster, a manic grin distorting his features. Something wet and hot touched his lips and he blinked out of his gory fantasies. Still, the image stayed blurred. Wavering. He touched his face before he smelled the salty tang, and found his cheeks to be wet. Immediate compulsion hit him. How could he have been so… so ecstatic over the thought of brutally killing others? He was a hero. He needed to be a good person.

But those monsters do not deserve to indulge in the kindness of a good person. A devious grin appeared on his lips as he thought about it again. If anything, they deserve to be killed in the way of the monster.

The tears still wouldn’t stop. He ignored them.

---

Zane watched Ratchet warily. He shivered at that deranged look the Lombax wore.

Great. He has gone mad already.

A low sigh left the robot as he patted the other one on his shoulder. “Go on like that and yer gonna create a salt sea in yer room.”

Blankly, the Lombax shifted to face the robot. It seemed as if he didn’t recognize him. Zane’s expression fell apart for a moment between shock and disbelief, only to quickly piece itself back together to the smug, slightly irritated mask he always wore. “Come on, stop the scary face. If ya don’t snap outta it, I’m gonna serenade you a cheesy love song all day long.”

While Ratchet’s silence stayed, his mask shifted to actual confusion, ears falling.

“What?”

“Your face. You were staring at the ceiling as if you were watching some morbid entertainment show.” Again he patted the Lombax on his shoulder. “Hope ya weren’t thinking about those purple bastards again, cuz I just tried my best to get those stains outta my finish.”

Ratchet blinked stupidly.

“Oh. Uh, no, it’s fine. You’re looking good again.”

No, wait a second, there was a stain left on Zane’s throat. And one under his visor in a trail of tears. Ratchet blinked again and the magenta was gone.

“Huh.” He muttered, an icy prick in the back of his neck.

“Of course I look good. I always do. Purple ain’t my perfect color, but I can sport it if I have to.” The robot grinned, not having noticed the confusion in Ratchet’s mind. “Now, anything ya want me ta do?”

“Yeah.” This time, the one-word-reply lacked any conviction before the Lombax caught his wandering thoughts, wrestling them in some order as he searched the sense and the words to an appropriate answer.

“I need weapons. A lot more than I currently have. Customable, by my own if necessary. Retrofittable with any kind of liquid.”  

“… Weapons, huh.” Zane rubbed his chin and sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. Give me a reel of yer current weapons, and I’ll have them… modified. Will take a few days though.”

“I’m gonna write them down for ya. ‘s not as if I have that many in the moment.” Thankful for the distraction, Ratchet walked to the desk and pulled out the top drawer, digging in around for a pencil and some paper. A tap on his shoulder, and he turned around. Zane offered him his lower arm and had a holopad materialize.

“Just write it down it here. I’ll be memorizing it.”

Ratchet wrote the list down with the offered stylus. It took him longer than what he should have needed, because his hands were shaking. Zane watched him with an unreadable gaze, holding still as he encouraged the Lombax to take his time.

“Done.” He tipped the holographic tic button, then answered ‘yes’ when asked if he wanted to save the file. The list was longer than he had indicated, but the Gadgetron weapon seller could only sell so much of that what the company would send into this sector of the Breegus system. Usually he would have gotten the whole available assortment by gathering them on the different planets, but since this was out of the question…

“Give me a moment.” The robot froze up, engine fans whirring up a little. Ratchet could see the list being rapidly checked and ticked or struck through, sometimes revised and left with annotations. After 30 seconds Zane loosened up and shook his head.

“Alright, I checked with ma workers, and basically we can modify ten of yer arsenal. If we’re lucky. Can’t say for sure with some, but five will be in either way.”

“Only five?” Ratchet’s shoulders sagged a little. “Why so few? Too little material?”

“No. Incompatible with our tech. Can’t make wonders happen, ya see.” The robot patted him on the shoulder. “Look, it’s more than before. I’ll see if I can refit some stuff to be usable during combat, but for now ya’ll have to stick with the tech Nefarious already gave ya.”

“Which can’t be upgraded any more, I guess.”

“Gotta ask the doctor himself about that. Can’t give you more about his personal pet projects.” A moment of pause.

“… Are you really planning on heading in on your own?”

“Depends on if anyone would even want to join me. I want to take the Shapeshifters down with my own hands, but I’d appreciate some help.”

“I see.” The robot sighed and turned away. No. He could not say what seemed so easy to suggest in his mind. It was crazy, suicidal even to go in with the Lombax. He could not, not after what had happened—and what good would he be anyway? Probably he would end up as the first casualty in the first ten minutes of their first fight.

That is if I pretend that I did not install a high-skill fighting program before I came here.

A low growl escaped Zane. Ratchet, who had heard more growls from other sources than himself than he ever wanted, snapped his upper body around with a sneer, before his eyes, then mind caught up with his instincts and told them ‘No danger, idiot. That was Zane.’.

“Um,” Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck. He hoped the robot hadn’t noticed his short lapse. “You alright, Zane?”

“What- oh, yeah, don’t worry. I’m peachy. Just defragging my memory banks.” He laughed a little as he avoided Ratchet’s eyes. No need to let him know that he was trying to find a solution in his head. “As ya said, you’d prefer taking them on yerself. Guess amateur help wouldn’t do much in that kinda fight, huh?”

Ratchet grimaced. “That and I want to avoid other unnecessary deaths.”

What a cheery thought.

“Dun worry. There won’t be any more deaths from our side. Just purple ones.” A slight nudge against the Lombax’s shoulder was given to make him look at Zane. “But either way, can’t let ya run to yer death either. Yer good and all, but you’ll need some assistance.”

“And just where do I get that assistance from?”

“Well…”

Just say it. You know you want to.

Yeah, right. Never been more suicidal in my life. Might just about wing the chance of near sure survival and head out into the field with him.

“Just saying. Maybe someone will stick up and help ya. Ya never know.”

“Ya sound as if ya know someone like that.”

“Not really, no.” He couldn’t do it. He just could not do it. As much as he wanted to help Ratchet, he had an instinct of survival that screamed louder than anything else in his mind. He was no hero; he was a thief, a hacker of the finest variety – and unless he could find a way to support Ratchet actively in a fight without potential death, he would play it like this. “But I’ll keep an eye out for anyone who might.”

That had been too much to hope for, Ratchet mused, fingers twitching in disappointment.

“Yeah, that’d be good. Though I guess all of them’ll rather run away screaming.”

“Probably.” This was not a good way for the conversation to go. Any longer and he would feel guilty. “So... Ya feelin’ okay enough to be alone for a bit? And that’s minus that scary face.”

“I’ll be fine, just stop that about that ‘scary face’. I really don’t get what you mean.”

Honestly? He wanted Zane to stay, but what good would it do? He had to perform his own job, even if it was for Nefarious.

“Just… that face, y’know. Like yer enjoying something so much yer ecstatic, and it ain’t ‘cause it’s a pretty thing.” It’s like a Shapeshifter’s smile, danced on his lips. Like the blissful, cruel smile when they see their prey writhing in their grasp. “But if ya want me to stay, I’ma make a few arrangements and have someone else take my load of work.”

“You can do that? Wouldn’t Nefarious combust?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to see, if you give me a moment.” The robot walked into the kitchen to have some privacy for himself, and to have enough time to negotiate with his colleagues. When Zane turned his back towards him, a chilling wave cascaded down Ratchet’s back, stealing away his lungs. This was really happening. Zane wouldn’t go out of his way to offer to stay with him and even talk to his colleagues only to have a façade.

Another person staying with him. Another person he cared about. Another person that could be attacked inside this very room. The urge to barricade the door carried the Lombax to said opening before he realized what he was doing. The clearing of vocal processors could be heard and attracted his attention.

“What are you doing there? Trying ta sneak out on me when I just made sure I could stay with ya for as long as ya want?”

“Wha- No!” That was more vehement that Ratchet had intended. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Where should I go anyways? I thought I heard something. Not that I like being paranoid, but… you know.” The robot laughed and nudged him at his shoulder.

“I’m just messin’ with ya. Ya wouldn’t run out on me, would you.” He turned around swiftly on his heels and let himself fall on the couch, moaning lowly in pleasure at the wonderfully soft and comfortable material. Yes, good decision to stay for some more. This was too comfortable.

“Admit it, you just offered because of the luxury suite here.” Ratchet teased, smirking. But who wouldn’t? Well, those who didn’t want to fight Shapeshifters, but that was another thought he rather did not dwell upon. He plopped himself down on the narrow free spot on the couch and lounged back, grinning at Zane from the corner of his eyes and mouth. The robot pierced him with a possessive glare as he hugged one of the pillows quite fiercely.

“I like soft furniture. Don’t judge me.”

“Suuuuurrreeee.”

“Don’t sass me, squishie.” The robot’s eye display gleamed suggestively. “Or I’ll show you just how much I know about organics.”

“Urghhhhhh, thanks but no thanks.” Ratchet curled over himself, gagging loud and overdramatically. “You’re definitely not my type in that regard.”

“Don’t worry. That’s mutual. Can’t imagine making out with a squishie voluntarily. Too wet.” The robot groaned loudly. “Alas, sometimes the conditions are just that bad that I have to resort to similar means. Business and such.”

“That’s a story I definitely DON’T want to hear about.” Because listening to somebody telling they had to flirt with someone they weren’t interested in? Awkward, and not in the ‘funny for Ratchet’ way, but ‘awkward for anyone, but especially for Ratchet’ way.

“Good. Then don’t make fun of me.” The robot hummed in pleasure, stretching and bending continuously until his joints popped a little. “Ah, Nefarious does give you some of the best perks. Ya don’t think I can have a similar room?”

“Dunno. Do you want to find out? I’m only here-” And did that hurt that he couldn’t use ‘we’ anymore. “-well, because the Doc and Lawrence coerced me into fighting the Shapeshifters in exchange for getting out. Not in a casket, that is.”

“So I’ll get this if I pull along with you? Tempting…” Zane rolled onto his back and hummed loudly. “Tempting indeed.”

Ratchet snorted. “Only you would say that.”

“Of course. I’m the most courageous bastard you’ll ever find around here.” The cheeky grin on Zane’s lips was impossible to overlook. “Would tempt the demon’s lair just for that.”

“Don’t jinx us. We’re already in one – actually, were in one and near some else’s.” Ratchet joked, but a dark cloud stole itself into the back of his eyes.

“If that’s what jinxes us, I’m afraid we’re already all the way to damnation.” The robot chuckled as he snuggled himself in between the pillows. “This is heavenly…”

“Maybe you have a fetish then. For expensive furniture and textiles. You seem pretty blessed out.”

“Yeah. My particular obsession right now is golden fur with brown stripes. Feels gorgeous on my surface.” The sarcasm dripping from every word was almost drowning them.

“Hardy har har. Hope you like the smell of burnt ozone.” Not that he really stunk of them, it was just something Clank had joked about once and that when he had used one of his stronger sensory scans.

Zane laughed lowly before he continued, “In all seriousness, I love luxury. Part of why I took up my special profession.”

“It’s… nice, but not something I’d feel comfortable in for a longer time.”

“You’re a hero,” the robot retorted dramatically, “Not like that fraud in a green spandex suit – a real one. Of course you’re just that valiant in rejecting luxury. How predictable.”

“No. I grew up on a dusty backwater planet that I consider home. I like technology and devices, but only as much as I can work with or modify them. And a place like this?” He gestured around.

“Still above Clank and my apartments. We like it comfortable, not more.”

“Sounds about right.” Zane eyed him quietly as if he was assessing the Lombax. What for, one could not discern from the look he gave him. Then he rolled deeper into the couch, which Ratchet had not deemed possible. “You should sleep. Get some rest. There’s a lot to prepare for.”

“Too much.” Ratchet agreed. He didn’t care about what Zane was searching for. Now that he had brought it up, the Lombax felt an incredible weight settle on his body, a heavy blanket. When was the last time he had really slept instead of tossing and turning even when he was in a daze?

“Don’t worry,” the robot whispered quietly, “I will watch out for you. Nobody will get through to you, I promise.” Zane felt how Ratchet was nervous about the responsibility put on his shoulders – perhaps even more so than with his previous galactic endeavors the personal connection to all sides of the issue made it harder to overcome the emotional attachment and simply be a hero. So now all the robot could do was provide a little bit of shelter before the storm. And too good that as long as he did not frag his processors, he could watch out for the Lombax while he slept.