Darkness of the Soul

Minimum Security

Rough hands jolted Jack awake. The teenager snapped his eyes open, only to be greeted by white walls and a wave of disorientation. He felt a solid grip on his shoulder, shaking him from his stupor. The boy twisted sharply to confront the assaulter, only to be greeted by a masked face. Then he remembered, his stomach knotting.

He was still a prisoner of MECH.

"What?" Jack slurred. The sedatives hadn't apparently worn off, because his mind was a fog and his limbs were heavy.

"You need to eat something," the soldier replied, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Sure enough, there was a tray of food on the cot next to him. Jack couldn't tell exactly what it was, except a bowl of something and two slices of bread with something in between them. He had seen more appetizing meals at school. His stomach twisted.

"I'm not hungry," the teenager moaned.

He tried to turn over to defy consciousness and his captor, but he was denied that luxury. The grip went to his wrist, almost crushing. Jack hissed as he was pulled, his arm almost yanking out of his socket, into a sitting position. There was a sting of pain, and the teenager glanced down to see a white bandage around his elbow. The same spot where DiBiase had injected the needle. His head spun, only for his thoughts to be interrupted by the man that woke him up.

"Eat," the soldier ordered.

"...Fine."

The tray was placed on his lap, and Jack had to force his arm to move and his mouth to open. His stomach churned with each bite, either from the drugs, the anxiety, or the dark energon. But Jack couldn't push away or take his time, not with the impatient soldier watching him. With the visor hiding his face, the man almost appeared emotionless. Like a statue. Or a robot.

Did they ever take those things off? The teenager supposed it made sense they were careful with their masks around him. It was so Jack couldn't identify them when he got out of here. If he got out of here. He eyed the room, noticing there were no other figures present.

"Where's Dr. DiBiase?" he asked.

"Busy."

"Where's Silas?"

"Busy."

"I'll take it you're the talkative type."

Not a word. Jack decided not to push the sarcastic comments. He ate as quickly as his stomach would allow. Anything to get the guard away from him. Once every bite was gone, the man dutifully took the tray back and slipped out of the room. Jack heard it swing close with a slam and a click of a lock slipping in place.

The army brat immediately curled back up, holding his middle, trying to push down the nausea. Part of Jack wondered how in the world his life had come to this.

He was supposed to be in Washington D.C., with Mom and Dad. He was supposed to have his life figured out by now. Both his parents determined he was going to college, and there was no question about it. Dad wanted him to go to an academy, like he did, but Jack knew he was never going to be the hero his father was. He wanted to be a surgeon. He had been around anatomy all his life, and it was something he could understand. He wanted to help people, like Mom.

Now, Jack couldn't even help himself.

He could hardly move and could barely eat. He was the prisoner of a group of insane extremists, and he would be their tool to capture the most advanced technology in the galaxy, just so they use it for themselves. Completely oblivious to the fact that the same technology would destroy them.

The United States had unintentionally declared war on the Decepticons when they captured their leader. Something Megatron would not forgive. He would have his revenge on the race that had wronged him. He would destroy the Autobots, first, so that nothing was in his way. And a horrible show of power that nothing could stop him. It made Jack's blood run cold.