Chapter Text
Deadlock raised his hand to knock on the door to Soundwave’s office but it slid open before his knuckles hit the metal.
“Deadlock: Enter,” Soundwave droned from inside.
Deadlock squinted, adjusting to the dark room illuminated solely by a wall of screens flickering through images from all across the battlefield.
“Finally.” Ravaged stepped out of the shadows. “We commed you over an hour ago.”
“I was busy,” Deadlock shrugged. He took the long way around on purpose. He wasn’t at anyone’s beck and call.
“Glad you could fit us into your schedule.” Ravage rolled his optics.
“Anything for you, Whiskers.” Deadlock purposefully emphasized Ravage's old Dead End nickname and flashed a fanged grin. “What do you want?”
“If anyone outside this room ever hears you call me that,” Ravage made a show of admiring his own claws. The blue flickering light from the screen gleamed on the razor sharp edges. “I’ll gut you myself.”
“Point taken,” Deadlock chuckled.
“Level one pun detected.” Soundwave intoned.
“Aw! Come on! That was totally better than a level one!” Deadlock protested.
“We didn’t call you here to debate pun quality.” Ravage shook his head.
“Correct. Deadlock careless.”
“Careless? I wasn’t even wounded in today’s skirmish. What are you talking about?” Deadlock’s plating flared. He didn’t shuffle in here an hour late to be insulted.
“What Soundwave is trying to say is: the past has a way of coming back to haunt you, Drift.” Ravage purred, clearly showing Deadlock wasn’t the only one dredging up old history today.
“I haven’t gone by that name in a long time. Not since-”
“Dead End.” Soundwave cut him off.
“Yeah. Why bring it up now?”
“Because Dead Enders look out for each other. We know each other by names no one else dare use and share memories too terrible to ever forget,” Ravage answered. He padded silently around Deadlock, circling like a hunter stalking his prey. “As horrific as the war is these days, it still doesn’t compare to the rust-ridden hellscape of the Dead End.”
Deadlock narrowed his optics. He knew Ravage and Soundwave from their earliest days as Decepticons. They all survived the back alleys of the Dead End by looking out for each other whenever they could and joined Megatron’s movement after his very first speech. He wouldn’t necessarily call them friends but sharing such a brutal background forged a strange bond between them. But that was ages ago. Why bring up forgotten names and bad memories now?
Ravage slid a data slug into Deadlock’s hand.
“What is this?”
“The only copy of extremely sensitive data. Soundwave’s original files. I don’t need to tell you that he doesn’t part with his originals lightly.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?” Deadlock asked, more confused than ever.
“Review it. Then keep it or destroy it, it’s up to you.” Ravage purred. “Whatever you do, make better choices in the future.”
“No secrets on the battlefield. Unseen eyes always watching.” Soundwave added.
“We would never betray a fellow Dead-Ender, but others may not be so scrupulous. For your sake and those you care about, exercise more discretion.”
“Thanks?” Deadlock canted his finials back. He stared at the data slug in his hands, unsure of what to make of this whole meeting.
Ravage stalked to the door and opened it, essentially dismissing him.
Deadlock shrugged. He could take a hint. He took the data slug and went his way.
“See you around, Whiskers!” He said with a cheeky grin.
“Likewise, Drift. And do be careful.” Ravage purred as the door slid silently shut.
Deadlock shook his head, trying to make sense of the strange encounter. He clutched the data slug in his fist. Stopping by the mess hall, Deadlock grabbed his daily ration of energon and strode purposefully to the rusted closet he claimed as his own room. Feeling paranoid by Ravage and Soundwave’s cryptic warnings, he glanced down the hallway to see if he was followed then locked the door behind him.
Barely containing his curiosity, Deadlock plugged the data slug into his personal data pad. His screen lit up with multiple images of yesterday’s battle. Deadlock sipped his energon and scrolled through them, wondering what had Ravage’s tail in a twist.
Until he got to the last photo set.
A blur of red and white caught his attention and he nearly spit out his mouthful of energon. Deadlock zoomed in on the photo. Warmth rushed to his face.
Amidst the towering columns of smoke, two figures wrapped their frames around each other. One red and white, the other deep gray and purple. They clung to each other desperately. Deadlock instantly recognized himself and the only good thing to come out of the Dead End: Ratchet.
Deadlock blushed fiercely. He thought for sure the billowing smoke from the raging fires would provide ample privacy for an unexpected tryst. Apparently not.
Ravage was right. He’d have to be more careful in the future.