The Cybertronian Upload

I challenge you!

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 01:40:41 GMT

To watch this and not pee yourself laughing at 2:18.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C5p5TmmWWs&feature=related#

And now for something completely different.

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 00:23:00 GMT

For anyone interested.

I took a small break from writing giant alien robots and did a little Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles dirty.

WARNING: Explicit sexual activity follows.

Also - I did not remember Karai from the animated series when I saw the recent 2007 movie. This fiction is based in an AU of sorts (based off only the 2007 movie), where Karai is not the Shredder's daughter (adoptive or otherwise) but his second in command, his apprentice, his lover. Though much younger. Please keep that in mind and don't bother flaming.

The silence threatened to overwhelm her, but she kept her mind in control. Her body was poised and ready for anything, still enough to make a statue grimace with jealousy. She was fully equipped and armed ready to engage even the most dangerous of enemies. Her lithe body was armored just enough to protect her vital organs while giving her the manuverability every ninja required. Her face hidden behind a red and silver mask, mimicing the visage of her sensei.

She was no longer alone.

The breeze which had been hitting her from behind had shifted slightly. The air no longer hissed against her knees it had risen to her thighs. There was someone else in the rafters above her. Her flaring pupils slid slowly to the farthest left reaches of her eyes. Sight was not the sense she needed to rely on but it was proving difficult to ignore the intruder's invisibility.

Karai closed her eyes slowly and took a breath.

Do not focus on your fear. Set your questions aside. How they managed to sneak up on you is not important. You must anticipate. Listen. Feel.

There was a soft creak in the rafters. Karai leapt backwards springing away on the balls of her feet as her attacker came crashing down. Catching herself in a low crouch Karai looked up to see her stance mimcked, looking back at her. Had she not moved he would have crushed her.

His weight shifted from his back foot to the forward. A slight crease in his sock the only tell. He darted forward.

Karai leapt backwards again this time prepared. She propelled herself forward and over her low attacker. Landing behind him she slid for a moment on the floors and twisted to face him. Her attacker spun as if on ice and ran towards her.

She blocked the first punch with her right forearm. She took the brunt of the second swing into the palm of her left hand and shoved backwards. As she followed through with her left hand she swung her right sideways and over her left. Her fist made contact with her attacker's upper right arm, just below the shoulder.

The hooded man stepped onto his left foot and reached across her back with his right arm. His fingers brushed her left shoulder from behind as Karai stepped into him. Her right knee locked behind his, their feet parallel and oposite. They spun together like practiced dancers until both parted and sprang to opposite sides of the room.

Four nearly identical handsprings brought the opposition to diagonal corners of the room. There was a second to breathe, a second to contemplate, and then blood pumping through limbs. They closed the distance between themselves in the blink of an eye.

At the last second he dropped to his knees and slid forward. He swung out his left arm to fold the backs of her knees. Karai flipped herself backwards to her hands. The backs of her calves were brushed by his forearm. She reached out as her legs sailed over her body and grabbed his extended left arm at the wrist. As her feet finally righted themselves her attacker was forced to his back.

She quickly swung her leg over and dropped to one knee, straddling her attacker. Right knee firmly planted on the ground she balled her right hand into a fist and swung downwards. She realized too late her mistake as he rolled into her left leg. She quickly lifted her leg to provide him an exit, rather than attempt and roll with him.

She had barely enough time to position herself steadily on both knees before he was at her again. She blocked his first fist with both forearms crossed over her head. He lifted his knee to catch her chin and she met him half-way. The force jarred her slightly as she wrapped both arms under his knee and flipped him. He caught himself on his hands and twisted mid-flip to land facing her.

She charged for him recklessly, but he caught her bluff and stood his ground. A smirk pressed her lips to the inside of her mask. She reached out at the last second to grab a firm hold on his belt and slid under him, between his legs. Her hold on his belt remained steady and he was forced to his stomach as she shot under him like a bullet. She released her hold and turned to leap onto his prone form.

He caught her in the gut with both feet and kicked her across the room. He stood quickly as she landed on her back with a gasp as the air was knocked from her lungs. He darted forward and brought an elbow towards her face. She rolled to his right. He tried again, she rolled left.

She curled her stomach and bent almost completely in half as she pressed the bottoms of both feet to his chest and kicked outward. She flipped herself to her knees, but managed to only skid him backwards a few steps.

She had lost.

She moved to stand but he was far too quick. She had barely pulled her left foot under her by the time he'd pressed himself to her back. He wrapped one arm around her torso just under her breasts and the other slid dangerously across her throat. She instinctually reached up and grabbed the forearm at her neck with both hands. The tension at her throat lessened as he moved to his own knees behind her.

She couldn't hear his breathing over the echo of her own amplified within her mask but she could feel each gasp as his chest fluttered flush against her back. His head slowly tipped forward and she could feel the press of his lips through his hood, through her own. She closed her eyes slowly behind her mask and took a steading breath, encouraging him silently to do the same.

Not even in top form and he had bested her. That was why he was still the unchallenged Head of the Foot Clan. Even if Karai was the only one who knew it was his face behind the black mask. The Shredder was presumed dead and not even the rebels among the foot had dared utter ill of him in his absence.

His breathing had steadied but he made no move to release her. His fingers groped for a moment at her shoulder until they found purchase. He dropped his head slightly so that his concealed lips brushed the curve of her neck.

She slid her right hand along his arm, bending it upwards until her fingers met with his sturdy shoulder. The arm at her torso seemed to stiffen a moment before choosing a course of action. His hand slid down on a wide arc across her lower torso until his fingers came to tickle the bone of her left hip. His wide and knowing palm draped itsef over the curve of her thigh. He paused as his middle and fore finger danced along the inseam of her leather pants.

Karai brought both arms up to grip at his upper back, shoulders and neck. The hand at her shoulder moved upwards until it found the gap between her chin and her mask. She held in a gasp as a gloved finger slid upwards over her lips, soon joined by an encased palm and bretherin digits. His palm fit so easily over the entirety of her face and it made her feel tiny in his hands. He pried both her mask and hood off with a careful tug, leaving her face exposed and her hair disheveled.

He dropped her mask to the floor, her hood joining the fabric gathered at her neck. His free hand joined and paralleled his right, spreading it's palm across her right thigh. He applied the smallest hint of pressure and she eagerly obeyed, her knees sliding open to leave her nearly split before him. He pressed himself against her and there was a heat in his breath as he panted through his mask.

She arched slightly back against him, curving her body into a bow with her head and hips at each tip. His hands slid upwards over her torso, slowly over the trace of her bodice through her plating to her collarbone and back down. His fingers against the ridges in her armor making soft noises--wind through the stalks of a bamboo forest.

Back at her hips his fingers gripped, each tip almost meeting it's twin across her narrow waist. His thumbs pressed, rubbed and rotated at the small of her back. She mewled quietly and pleaded against his shoulder blades. There was almost a noise in her ear, akin to a chuckle. She was always too eager.

She shifted her wieght, bringing her feet underneath her steadily. She swung her left back slowly and wrapped it around his leg on the outside, resting on the ball of her foot as it touched the floor near to his ankle. She repeated the snake-like manuever with her right leg. She relied now on her balance and his hands upon her waist to remain upright.

The curve of her seat pressed now to his lower stomach, hoisted to be even with his belt. Her legs shuddered and she leaned backwards. Her arms moved down his back with groping fingers. She was now draped like a cloth over his right shoulder, his head under one arm and against the cup of her metallic breast.

One of his hands moved up her torso and braced itself there, his thumb gently breaching the center of her bosom. His left hand moved back down her torso and found the latch of her belt. Pulling the leather through the metal with a single finger he broke the seal encircling her waist and exposed milky white skin. He slipped his hand below the line of her pants and darted a single gloved finger over her. Her body tightened under his hand pleasantly.

As he slid his own knees together he pulled his hand from her pants and slid it down her left leg, pulling it free of it's entanglement with his own. He turned her towards his right shoulder where she had draped herself. He locked his right arm under her knees as she braced herself against him to remain upright. His legs pressed together to form something of a lap, Karai balanced on one thigh.

He moved his left hand to quickly unfasten his own belt, to pull his length free before the precarious perch he offered his apprenticed proved insufficient. Karai reached between her legs and carefully pried her pants free, sliding them off until they caught at her knees. She felt her master's erection, warm compared to the air, at her lower back. He released her knees for a brief second to push her pants to her calves before lifting her legs to her chest once more.

She turned and leaned across his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders with her knees still folded almost completely against her chest. She braced herself atop his shoulders as he lifted her slowly and moved her atop his length. A pleasant stinging sensation wound it's way up her spine as he sheathed himself within her. The noise which worked its way out of his cloth mask attested that he'd felt the same.

Twisted at the waist she braced her left arm against his shoulder, the right craddled the back of his neck. The hand under her knees held her suspended against the hand at her lower back as he rocked from his haunches to a high knee with her in his lap. He re-entered powerfully each time his buttock rose from the curve of his heels.

He kept his head bowed, forehead against her neck. His hot breath poured out over her collarbone and fogged up over the sheen of metal at her chest. Karai began working her legs against themselves, working her pants down to her ankles. Understanding her intentions, her master released her knees and slid his hand to her hip.

Karai pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she twisted with her master inside her. He groaned deeply as she swung her legs to trap his waist between her knees. She urged his face to her bosom as she took the strain off his legs and lifted herself off his length before sliding back down.

His hands moved from her hips upwards, slowly tracing her sides. His thumbs traced the curve of her ribs through her armor as his hands continued upwards. He pulled them around towards the back and gripped at her shoulders, pulling her down hard onto him. He began to meet her thrusts with his own, leaving very little gap between them.

A cool sweat broke out along Karai's temple, attempting to cool her body from the fire between her legs. As she began to increase her speed Karai felt her master's legs beneath her shift. She moved with him and within a moment she was kneeling in his lap with his legs stretched along the floor. He slid his hands back down to her hips. He slipped his thumbs under the fabric of her shirt, just below her armor plating, and pressed his fingers into suple flesh.

Karai slowly leaned backwards, her hands clamped over her master's. She continued backwards until she rested her back atop his legs, her head near his ankles. Her master's hands on her hips tightened, pulling her towards him again and again. The strain was starting to show in both bodies, and she could now hear her master's breath coming in steady gasps.

A hand broke from her hip and slid downwards. She moved her own hand up into her hair, gripping at the roots as her master traced his gloved fingers delicately around the seal they formed. He parted the lips between his own length and her inner walls with a finger. He moved back around to the front and up to the sensitive bulb. Karai arched off his legs and bit down onto her knuckle.

Hands slid down Karai's thighs and over the ball of her knees until they locked around her ankles. While still encased in her warmth, her master unfolded her legs. He brought them up to his chest then rested her ankles on his shoulders. He turned his head and brushed the fabric over his lips across a smooth calf. Karai purred.

He slowly began to bend his own legs upwards, lifting Karai as he did so. Her snake-like arms wrapped around his torso as she bent easily in half, pressed against her own legs and into his chest. His head fell again to rest against her armored bosom. He slid his arms up her back, backs of his hands against his own knees as he once more gripped at her shoulders tightly.

The end was nigh for both of them as they continued panting and writhing against one another. Their limbs tangled now in a knot of intimacy. Noises like hiccups bubbled from deep in Karai's throat. Her head fell back to rest against her master's knees. Her fingers threatened to rip at his clothing as his did the same. Another round and the world stopped for an instant.

Panting heavily as the color faded back into the world, Karai slowly lowered her legs from around her master's shoulders. His hands fell slowly from her shoulders to her waist and then to the floor to help hold himself upright.

For the first time since the exercise began the pair met eyes. Karai's dark and vicious and her master's concealed behind the mask of a mere foot soldier. She could feel the smirk on his face. She had memorized the scars over his lips and cheeks, the curve of his eyes when he was amused. She returned the expression with a hunger on her lips.

Her master hissed slightly as she stood and stepped gracefully away from him, kneeling to pick up her pants. She stepped back into them with a slight look of disgust as she fastened them again at her waist and reached for her mask.

Standing once more she turned to address her master - but she was alone. She stood for a moment to stare at the empty space where he had just been. There was nothing but a stain on the mats which suggested anything other than regular training had taken place. She craned her neck to check the rafters but knew before she looked that he would not be there.

She clutched the mask tightly in her fist and walked into the night. Head of the Foot Clan indeed.

Transformers Contagion Chapter 39

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 05:08:16 GMT

The Exposure of Vector Sigma

Narrated by Decepticon Alexis

It seemed like he was always at least two steps ahead of me. With all that must have been on his mind, all that was hanging on his shoulders, I'm still baffled by how he managed to continue and best me. Out me before I had a chance to do anything. I was only trying to help...

I was left with more questions than I had originally after the show I got last night. The crystal that posessed Starscream certainly told us what we were after, but he hadn't answered any of my other questions. He'd paraded Starscream's body around the room, addressing the other men, promising them greater power than they'd known before. He promised them that once they got a hold of the Ore that they would be unstoppable. He mentioned once or twice returning them to their 'Cybertronian glory'.

Were they all aliens? It'd been hard to wrap my mind around at first, but it kind of made sense. They all acted like they were living in a second skin, an uncomfortable skin, and they didn't make any sense most of the time - talking about things I had no idea about. And Starscream... I couldn't explain my attraction to him, my devotion to him, though we barely knew each other. He had to be from another planet.

Eventually the crystal had released Starscream, leaving him to crumple onto the bed. He'd been unconscious most of the night thanks to my pushing. The crystal seemed to be draining his life away.

As we left the nasty old hotel room for the road, I noticed quickly that everyone was giving Starscream a much wider berth that usual. I frowned. It was that damned crystal. I reached up to rub at my throat, wincing. My whole neck was purple and brown, it hurt to swallow. I narrowed my eyes as I continued to follow Starscream silently.

That crystal was running the show. I'd had all night to think about my own sanity and that's the conclusion I'd come to. The crystal around Starscream's neck was calling the shots - it was some kind of powerful alien entity trapped in that little crystal and it was controlling everything Starscream did. I had also decided, while unable to sleep in the dingy shithole, that I was going to get rid of it and free Starscream. So - he wasn't the most gentlemenly of men, but how much of that was just the stress of carting around that crystal? Maybe-maybe if he was free of it then he could finally loosen up. Maybe he would take me back to his planet and I could live out the rest of my short life happy?

My stomach gave a loud gurgle, and a put a hand over it like that would keep it quiet. I looked up at the back of Starscream's head as I realized it had been a day since I'd eaten, and maybe even longer than that for Starscream's men. I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw Rumble stumble forward. Skywarp (or Thundercracker, I still had trouble telling them apart) moved forward with a grumble and picked him up. There was only a slight struggle from the child before he relented and near collapsed in the other man's arms. His unusual cat seemed angry, but couldn't do anything obviously. She took up a march next to Skywarp (or Thundercracker.)

Crystal or no we all needed to eat.

I took a deep breath and strode forward. I could feel the eyes of each and every one of the others on me as I moved up beside Starscream, then in front of him where I stopped. I put my hands on my hips but could not meet his eyes directly - I couldn't look away from the crystal.

"What are you doing?" Starscream's voice was low and exhausted. I heard his stomach growl.

"We need to eat before we go any further." It sounded confident, though my knees were almost shaking.

"Eat?"

I stared up at Starscream incredulously.

"Yeah, you know... consume food? Nourish our bodies?"

"She's right." Skywarp and Thundercracker, plus Rumble and Ravage, moved up as well. Starscream ground his teeth together and turned slightly.

"I don't think the ore is going anywhere, Starscream. Tell EOS we need food or we won't be of any use to him." Thundercracker ventured - and he was obviously the one with Rumble. He was better at voicing his feelings than Skywarp... he was ten times more tactful too.

Starscream's hand twitched towards the crystal but never made contact. He turned to stare at me and narrowed his eyes.

"You're proving to be more trouble than you're worth."

"Without me you and your men would have all died last night. With no food and no sleep for two or three days? You'd all kill each other."

"How dare you presume that I would lead my men to termination!" He moved towards me and with my mind still stuck firmly on last night, I jerked back. It was an instinctual reaction, and I certainly didn't want to be thrown around again. I caught conflicting emotions in his expression as he stepped back and shook his head.

"Fine. Where can we get food?"

"There." I pointed to a McDonalds just on the corner of the street. Without a word Starscream turned, and we all followed. I didn't dare ask about money. He hadn't used any to pay the hotel, and I had a feeling he didn't need any. EOS had - strange powers it seemed. Mind control being the first and foremost.

I could feel the apprehension from the other guys as we entered the restuarant in a single file line. I can't say I blamed them at all. I felt like every set of eyes in the whole place was locked on me. Just staring. I kept my eyes locked on the tile floor until we reached the register. I chanced a single look up and noticed that no one had taken notice of us at all. As the other men made a strange clump/semi-circle behind Starscream I moved out of the way to glance at the patrons. It was like we were all invisible! No one even batted an eye! Not the infants, not the elderly - nothing. I looked back over my shoulder as Starscream attempted 'negotations' with the woman behind the register. She saw us. Her fake smile was plastered tightly on her face and nothing else came through. The other employees continued about their work, but they were clearly sluggish, drone like.

What... what kind of insane power did that crystal really have?! He wanted his own body, that's why he wanted to find this Ore... I couldn't let him do that.

"Alexis!" Starscream barked.

"What?" I jogged back over to the register, having wandered quite far into the restaurant, and stopped at his side. He jerked a finger at the cashier accusingly.

"Order our food before I slaughter this fleshbag."

I raised my eyebrow at him and stepped forward.

"Um, hi."

"Welcome to McDonalds!" The woman said cheerfully, head cocking to one side sharply as if her neck had suddenly broken. I winced. "Would you like to try our Quarter Pounder?"

"Yes. Um- I need..." I turned around and did a quick headcount before turning back to the woman. "Thirteen." I paused once more and looked over at Rumble. I'd forgotten his pets. Ravage could probably eat a whole hamburger herself. "Make that fifteen."

"Of course!" The woman's head snapped to the other side. "Would you like cheese on all of those?" Her smile never faded.

"Yes." I answered cautiously, figuring that if the guys really were aliens, they probably didn't have any alergies. They'd eaten my dad's sandwhich's after all. If that didn't kill them they could probably eat raw meat and be fine.

"Would you like fries with that?"

"Yes." I grumbled.

"Would you like to make all of those combos then?"

"Yes!" I sneered.

"Would you like to Super Size those combos for just-"

"Yes, damnit!"

"I warned you." Starscream grumbled, leaning over my shoulder slightly. I hadn't heard him approach. I stiffened as the crystal around his neck bumped into my back just between the shoulder blades. It was white hot and even the brief second of contact burnt. I recoiled and spun around to shove him backwards. He stumbled and looked offended for a moment, angry, then he looked down at the crystal. He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

I turned back to the woman, waiting for the total. She didn't move. She just stared at me, continuing to smile.

"Well?"

"Welcome to McDonalds!"

I growled and leaned over the desk. My stomach felt like it was eating itself now and I was in no mood to be toyed with.

"Did you get the order or not you plastic-faced, botox injectin-"

"Here's your order. Fifteen Quarter Pounders with cheese, Super Sized Combos."

I pulled back and mimicked Starscream's stance. I could feel a vein in my head throbbing, and it wasn't because of the cancer. I snatched one of the bags and a cup from the grinning male employee and stomped towards the fountain drink dispensor.

I heard some rustling from the men behind me and turned with a sigh.

"Everybody gets a bag and a drink." I held up my own to illustrate. "Except Rumble. He gets three. One for himself, one for the cat and one for the birds to share." Turning back to the drinks I was quickly joined by Thundercracker. He moved up beside me, close, and lowered his voice. His words were obviously meant for my ears alone.

"I know what you're planning, human." He said quietly, and there was no malice in his voice - not really. "If it were anyone else in your place I'll say you were glitched, but - I'll admit there's something wierd going on with you." He seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment before continuing. He looked down at me, met my eyes, held them.

"If you're going to help Starscream, Skywarp and I are helping you."

"Thundercracker..." I pulled him away from the drinks, fumbling to hold my own and my bag in the other hand. I lowered my voice to match his.

"Then it's about time you started acting like you're trying to help him!"

"Ha! That's easy for you to say, you little bug!" He sneered at me. "You haven't seen this from the beginning! You don't have as much at stake here as we do."

"Then tell me, Thundercracker." He narrowed his eyes and stepped back slightly. "Tell me what's at stake for you that's different for me."

"I can't."

"Why are you willing to help him now, but not before?"

"It's complicated. That ..." He paused and cast a glance over his shoulder as the men shoved each other around while filling up. "That speech he gave last night. I think he's going to use Starscream's body for himself."

"Duh." I hissed. Thundercracker grabbed my arm and squeezed.

"Would you stop that!? I'm trying to be nice here and you're making it really hard. Look, just-just suffice it to say I've known Starscream for a really really long time. He can be a big idiot and sometimes he deserves what he gets but - but I can't just watch him walk into termination."

"Will you tell me the truth then?" He blanched and released me. "Thundercracker, the more I know, the better I'll be able to help!"

This seemed to create a huge conflict. He stood up straight and looked over his shoulder again as Skywarp slipped a piece of ice down Rumble's shirt. He looked to Starscream, who appeared to be zoning out, snapping back to life as a fight broke out. Thundercracker sighed in defeat and turned to look at me.

"Fine. Tonight - or, whenever we make camp next. I'll tell you everything."

"I'm holding you to that."

"Pah. Like you could really force me to keep my word if I didn't want to. I'm a Decepticon - my true intentions are in the name." He turned and arrived just in time to grab Skywarp's arm as he swung at Rumble again.

"We should probably eat on the move." I offered, moving to stand closer to Starscream as he prepared to yell at the brawlers. "Keep going." Starscream turned and gave me a strange look.

"Decepticons, let's move out." He growled, smacking Skywarp and one of the other men on the back of the head. The short one. I was never going to remember all of their names.

"We still have a lot of distance to cover."

The grumbling men followed Starscream and myself out the door, all the while attempting to eat and not spill anything. Rumble unwrapped one of the hamburgers, at least they had sense enough to unwrap them first, and tossed it into his hood. Hopefully it would be enough for all three of his birds. The shortest of the adult men seemed bound and determined to identify every thing on his burger. He took it apart with one hand and tasted everything by itself before finally giving in to his hunger and biting in.

I turned my gaze to Thundercracker and met his eyes. I would make him give me the answers I wanted. My sanity depended on it.

We walked all day. All day. I don't think I've ever walked so long in my life. By the time the sun went down I was sure we'd walked half way across the state. My feet were killing me, each step was torture. We'd made our way just outside a huge city. I assumed this was Mission City, and somewhere down there was the Ore. If Thundercracker, Skywarp and I didn't do something soon - the crystal was going to kill Starscream, and probably Earth with him.

"Starscream," Thundercracker spoke up, moving forward to walk just slightly behind him. "We should rest here for the night."

"No." Starscream said quickly. "We're too close to rest now."

"You've gotta be kidding, Screamer!" Skywarp hissed as he moved up. He took Thundercracker's stand a step further and grabbed Starscream's arm, effectively stopping him.

"I'm exhausted! This is worse than that time we got stuck in Vector Sigma. You remember that?" Skywarp sneered. Starscream seemed taken aback, caught in memories for a moment. He shook his head, a slight hissing sound rising from the crystal. Fear flittered across Starscream's face for a split second before his sneer replaced it. He grabbed hold of Skywarp's arm and pried his hand off.

"You think I'm not exhausted too? We don't have a choice in the matter. Plus, the sooner we get to the Ore the sooner we can get back in our real bodies. Have a good honest recharge."

"That's not good enough." Thundercracker growled, and before anyone could step in he pulled back a fist and let it fly. It connected squarely with Starscream's jaw and he stumbled backwards into Skywarp. I shouted and ran forward, stopped by Rumble as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. He lifted me off the ground in spite of my kicking and screaming.

Runabout and Runamok moved as if to charge Thundercracker and Skywarp, but were immediately caught by the rest of the men. As I turned my gaze back to Starscream it occured to me that this was too smooth. Thundercracker and Skywarp had planned this with the other men while we'd been walking. They'd stayed far enough away from Starscream that he couldn't hear them, and since I'd been walking practically next to Starscream, I hadn't heard either. Were they all out to help Starscream in the long run?

It seemed unlikely.

Skywarp wrapped his arms under Starscream's, clamping them behind Starscream's head as he pulled him to his feet and held him fairly immobile. I could see through the sneer on his face that Skywarp was terrified - frightened of any retaliation EOS saw fit to expose him to. Starscream began to scream, nearly incoherent, repeating himself and the orders EOS had given them as Thundercracker approached slowly.

"You can't do this on your own, can you?" Thundercracker asked, his voice steadier than he looked. He was looking in Starscream's direction, but not at Starscream.

He was talking with EOS!

Starscream stiffened as he seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"Thundercracker, use your processor for a nanoclick.. you don't want to do this." He warned, panic in his voice.

"Can you!?" Thundercracker repeated, stepping closer and glaring down at Starscream's chest.

Rumble slowly set me down as I stopped thrashing, but he kept a hold on my shirt from the side just in case. Runabout and Runamok had even stopped squirming, though they were not set back on the ground just yet.

Starscream suddenly went limp in Skywarp's arms. I jerked forward but Rumble was too quick and held me in place. Skywarp looked up at Thundercracker worriedly, but the other man seemed determined and confident. Starscream's head slowly lifted, and I don't think anyone was surprised when it was EOS's voice instead.

"What's your point, Seeker?"

"You need us." Thundercracker said bravely, jerking a thumb to his chest. "You don't have the power in that crystal to get to the Ore yourself. You need able bodies to get it for you."

EOS growled, balling Starscream's hands into tight fists. Skywarp again looked at Thundercracker worriedly, but recieved no glance in return.

"The Ore interacts with our Cybertronian forms, doesn't it?" Thundercracker continued, narrowing his eyes. "It would have done something to the Ore had we found it in our real bodies. You've known about the Ore from the begining, haven't you?"

"So what if I have?" EOS hissed, moving forward and pulling Skywarp with him. "I am more powerful than you could ever imagine, what difference does it make if I lie to get what I want?"

"We need rest."

"What?"

"Let us rest, and we'll help you." Thundercracker said, disdain in his voice. "Don't get me wrong, I want to scrap you to Sigma in millions of pieces, but I also want my real body back. You need us just as much as we need you. Let us rest, and tomorrow we'll go get the Ore. No excuses."

"You're bargaining with me? With me?!" EOS began laughing into the sky, and a glow began to form around Starscream's hands. "You pathetic fools!" Skywarp flew backwards as EOS shoved a fist into his side. EOS turned and ran straight at Thundercracker - but he didn't get far. He stumbled and fell to his knees, Starscream's exhausted body no longer able to support him.

"You see what I mean?" Thundercracker said, but his voice was shaking. He'd been bluffing.

"What's - what's happening?"

"These bodies are frail." Hook grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he followed Thundercracker's lead. "They can't just keep going. They require a great deal of maintanence."

EOS suddenly looked like a cornered animal. He looked quickly from Hook to Thundercracker and narrowed his eyes. Without warning he tumbled forward and collapsed face-first into the ground.

"Starscream!" I ran forward and this time Rumble let me go. I skidded to a stop on my knees next to him and hesitated before reaching out to touch his shoulder. I got no response. Ignoring the pounding in my chest I flipped him over gently. He was either unconscious or in a deep sleep. I frowned as I brushed a few strands of hair away from his face.

"I can't believe that actually worked." One of the other men muttered, glancing from Hook to Thundercracker.

"Well, it did." Thundercracker sighed, helping Skywarp sit against the trunk of the tree he'd been tossed into. "I suggest we all get as much sleep as we can. Who knows when he'll be up again, or what kind of state he'll be in."

There were a few nods and mutters of agreement as the men spread out and tried to make themselves comfortable. Sleeping out in the woods wasn't going to be easy. I looke down at the prone body of Starscream and frowned again. Now would be the perfect time...

I reached out to grab the crystal.

"You wanted answers, human?"

I jerked my head up as Thundercracker and Skywarp joined me on the ground next to Starscream. Skywarp had his hand clamped over his nose, a light trickle of blood escaped from under his palm. He narrowed his eyes at me as he caught me looking and I moved my gaze to Thundercracker.

"Yes."

"Well then ask me something." Thundercracker grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Skywarp muttered something but I didn't catch it. Thundercracker gave him a single look and it seemed to shut him up.

"Start from the beginning. Who, or what, are you?"

"We're Cybertronians. And we are way too far away from Cybertron for my liking."

"Cybertronian," I tested, "Cybertron." I looked up at Thundercracker. "Is that another planet?"

"Duh." Skywarp grumbled.

"So you're aliens?"

"By human standards - yes. We're sentient life forms from another planet."

"Aliens."

"Cybertronian." Skywarp corrected groggily.

"What are you doing on Earth?"

"It's ... complicated."

"And classified. TC, don't tell her everything."

"Shut up, 'warp."

"Un-complicate it for me." I narrowed my eyes challengingly at Thundercracker.

"Our planet, for the past four or five million years has been at war - over a power source." Thundercracker held up a hand to shut up Skywarp as he leaned forward and attempted to interrupt. Lowering his hand I saw his nose, it was definately broken. The bleeding seemed to have subsided.

"A few thousand years ago our leader thought he'd finally found this power source, but he was tricked. He left our planet to trace the power source through the galaxy, leaving ... leaving Starscream in charge." Thundercracker looked down at Starscream and shook his head. "Our leader crashed on Earth, having followed the signal all the way here. Eventually we rejoined him, here, on Earth."

"Then where is he?" I looked down at the crystal. "It's not EOS, is it?" I suppressed a shudder.

"No." Skywarp growled quickly.

"No." Thundercracker confirmed, shaking his head slowly. "Our leader is - dead. Starscream, technically, is our leader now. Unfortunately that-that rock seems to have other plans."

"Who is... who is he?" I asked, willing away my sanity for the moment. I pointed to the crystal and could almost feel the electricity pouring off it.

"We don't know." Skywarp sneered. "Starscream found it on some small rock orbiting Earth. Ever since he brought the damned thing down here it's been bad luck." Thundercracker nodded in agreement.

"It changed our forms, as I suppose you've guessed."

"What do you normally look like?" I asked, suddenly realizing, as if it hadn't sunken in until just then, that the beings in front of me were not truthful. They were just costumes, in a sense. I looked down at Starscream with a slight frown. He didn't really look like that, did he? What would his handsome face turn in to once we found the Ore?

I looked up to see Skywarp and Thundercracker looking at each other, confused. They looked back to me and Thundercracker cocked his head to one side slightly.

"In our true forms we are mostly mechanical. Some of our components are organic, but not many."

"Mech... You're robots?"

"Ha!" Skywarp laughed. He opened his mouth to say something further when Starscream's eyes flashed open.

I jerked backwards as did Skywarp and Thundercracker. Starscream sat up quickly and put a hand to his head.

"Wh-what happened?" He grumbled, then stiffened. I leapt to my feet, Skywarp and Thundercracker attempting to do the same. Starscream turned his eyes to me and my heart froze - I don't know how I knew, but I was sure it was not Starscream who was looking back at me. It was EOS. It let out a roar that couldn't have possibly been human and leapt for me.

I grabbed my backpack and swung it around in front of me as I screamed, hoping to put some kind of barrier between myself and the crazed alien. EOS's fingers brushed my bag and a surge of green light shot forward from my pendant. It shot out like a column and knocked Starscream to the ground instantly. The light zapped back into my pendant.

My bag began to jump and vibrate. I quickly pulled it off and dropped it to the ground, stepping back as Starscream, now himself again, scrambled backwards.

The pendant ripped itself from my bag as it doubled in size, making a strange whirring sound. As I stared I tried to remember where I had gotten the damn thing--then I remembered vividly. I was eight. I found it in the woods behind my house. I'd been running home because a storm had started and I didn't want to get caught in the rain. My mother had come out to meet me and the instant she grabbed my hand, the instant I touched the corner of the pendant, we'd been struck by lightning. The pendant had doubled in size then too.

The strange sickness, my mother's cancer, and my bouts with telepathy had all stemmed from that single contact. Was this pendant Cybertronian? The coincidence, the shocking and unrealistic coincidence froze my spine.

Ripped free of my bag the pendant toppled to the ground, landing symbol-side up. The green column of light appeared again, but this time it funneled out, opening towards the sky. The cone-shaped beam of light was just slightly taller than me. As we all stared at the beacon, something began to materialize within the light - something... humanoid. Standing on the pendant.

"I-impossible!" Starscream hissed as Skywarp and Thundercracker hauled him to his feet.

"What is it?" I shrieked, running around the stand next to the trio. Thundercracker threw an arm over my shoulders and pulled me towards him. I don't think he was thinking clearly.

The form inside the light began to solidify. It was - a robot. A strange, humanoid robot. It was about my height, maybe a little taller, and a little wider. It had two arms, two legs, hands that greatly resembled a humans, and little boxy feet. It's circular head had no hair, no organic features. It had two glowing yellow eyes and a mask of sorts covered the rest of what might have been a face. The metallic skin covering the body was a bright red, silver in some places. The light slowly dimmed and the yellow eyes blinked out, and then back on.

The robot put a hand to his head and glanced around the clearing before taking a step forward.

Was this a Cybertronian? Was this what Starscream really looked like? Why was it hiding in my pendant!

I cast a quick glance around and noticed that everyone was frozen in place. Looks of shock, awe and fear spread across their faces. I looked over at Starscream. He was staring at the robot, eyes wide, and he was almost grinning.

The red bot turned it's gaze to Starscream and let out a series of wild beeping noises. Thundercracker released me and stepped back, looking from Starscream to Skywarp.

"It-it's a Minicon..." Thundercracker said breathlessly.

"A Minicon?" I repeated. "Is that... like what you are?"

"No." Starscream answered in the same breathless voice. He stepped forward. The robot let off another series of beeps, almost jumping up and down in excitement. Starscream laughed.

"This is unbelievable!" He placed a hand on the side of his face as the Minicon continued it's excited beeping before bending over in a sweeping bow in Starscream's direction.

"M-mine?" Starscream muttered.

"His?!" One of the men next to Hook demanded. Stepping forward with an indignant look on his face.

"Out of all the Decepticons here you chose, Starscream?!"

The Minicon turned to the man, hands on it's metallic hips, and fired a series of fierce sounding beeps. It was clearly a threat. The man laughed.

"Who, Starscream!? I thought you Minicons were supposed to be intelligent!"

"Shut up, Scrapper!" Starscream hissed.

"What's he saying? What is he? What's going on?" I asked, half to myself and half to Thundercracker. I felt him shake his head.

"He's... he's a Minicon." He stated, as if that would answer all of my questions. I threw my hands in the air, exhasperated.

"No, Thundercracker," Starscream corrected, placing a hand on his chest triumphantly, "he's my Minicon."

Inspite of my not being able to understand it, the Minicon clearly understood English. It nodded enthusiastically to Starscream and began beeping again, quick and sharp. Starscream just laughed.

I cast a glance over my shoulder and caught a look exchanged between Skywarp and Thundercracker. I felt a sinkingly familliar coldness seep into my blood. The look between them was meaningful. This was big, whatever it was. This Minicon was... important somehow.

How was it that I'd gotten answers to my other questions, just in time to have so many more?

Stalling

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 18:44:44 GMT

I'm stalling on my next chapter so bad... Alexis and Thundercracker ran away with my chapter outline and I'm currently fighting them to bring it back.

SO! Until I manage to get them under control, I'll present you with this:

Transformer Contagion theme songs that may give away upcoming plots! If you're curious I'd suggest looking up the lyrics.

1. 'Apologize' by Timbaland. Skyfire to Starscream.
2. 'Breakdown' by Seether. Starscream to Megatron.
3. 'The Night' by Disturbed. Shockwave.
4. 'Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)' by Journey. Starscream and Skyfire.
5. 'Down With The Sickness' by Disturbed. Sixshot.
6. 'Broken' by Seether featuring Amy Lee. Starscream and Skyfire.
7. 'Shamandalie' by Sonata Artica. Ratchet to Ironhide.
8. 'Revolution Man' by Union Underground. Shockwave and Cyclonus. (Not to each other, regarding themselves.)
9. 'All the Same' by Sick Puppies. Skyfire to Starscream.
10. 'The Unforgiven III' by Metallica. Hotrod/Rodimus.
11. 'I Hate Everything About You' by Three Days Grace. Starscream to Megatron.
12. 'Heavy' by Collective Soul. Optimus Prime.

Transformers ROTF Game?

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 19:24:50 GMT

I've stumbled on some awesome video and screencap from the game, but I'm confused.

Has anybody played or seen gameplay for the PC version? It's supposedly multiplayer, does that mean it's online? Or is it one of those - two controllers on one computer type things?

If you've played, you got reviews for me? Thanks.

Transformers Contagion Chapter 38

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 01:24:28 GMT

Stumbling on Suicide

Narrated by Autobot Ratchet

"-an dat should do it!"

I looked up and squinted my eyes as Wheeljack stepped back to admire his work. Trying to see through the glare of the sun pouring in through the window I cupped a hand over my eyes and stepped coser.

"Impressive, Wheeljack."

In an attempt to get all of our minds off our current and unfortunate situation, Optimus had done what'd he'd always done best - he'd given orders. He'd assigned us all tasks that, in the long run, would make our time as humans easier for us. I think most of the adults saw through his trick, but the children were mostly too busy griping to catch on to any ulterior motives behind our commander's orders.

Wheeljack, RedAlert and myself had been assigned to our med-bay and Teletraan I. Red and I had put repairs on the medical side of the room aside to assist Wheeljack, as it was only logical that we would need our computer compatable with our new bodies before we would need my Cybertronian based medical equipment.

Wheeljack had been working on constructing a ramp up to the computer while Red and I attempted to alter some of our other equipment to work with our new bodies. He'd made a simple but effective stairway.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck as he hopped down a few of the steps to test them out. Red moved up behind me and threw his hands in the air.

"Wonderful! You've just made them what a great way to test them out - break them!" He shook his head and turned away. "Have you no common sense at all, Wheeljack?"

"Ah, well," Wheeljack stepped onto the floor, looking a bit sheepish under RedAlert's scrutiny, "I just figa'd..."

"Don't listen to him, Wheeljack, I'm sure the stairs are going to work great." I put a hand on Red's shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. He scoffed at me and I pulled my hand away.

"You all baby him, you know!" He pointed a finger at Wheeljack, who threw up his hands defensively.

"Now now, let's just calm down, Red." I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my human nose as a familiar ache made it's way up my sinuses.

"Calm down? I am calm!"

Wheeljack and I exchanged a look as RedAlert scoffed again and went back to fiddling with the scattered equipment.

"Calm down, I'll give them calm down..."

Wheeljack shook his head and nudged me in the shoulder with a fist. He jerked a thumb up towards Teletraan I as I looked at him.

"Mind givin' me a hand real quick, Ratchet?" I nodded and followed Wheeljack up the new stairs, stepping onto them cautiously before he could catch me doing so. I shook my head and grinned as the stairs easily supported our weight side-by-side.

"I'm gonna bring Teletraan I back online, but I need a second pair o' hands or som'thin'." Wheeljack chuckled. "If you can j'st hold down that cog there while I patch t'rough."

"I think I can handle that." I smiled and made my way to said cog. I let my eyes wander over the surface of Teletraan I's interface panel, frowning a little. I'd never really taken much notice of the super computer, it wasn't essential to any of my work so I really had little need for it, but now as I looked at it's many buttons and knobs it felt... alien. A shudder passed through my spine and I knelt by the aforementioned cog and turned to look at Wheeljack.

He gave me a thumb's up.

I rotated the cog and braced myself against the button next to me to keep it in place. I tilted my head to watch Wheeljack almost dance across the interface panel, hitting various buttons as he moved. I chuckled at the odd display.

Within a few moments a green light blinked on near the large monitor and Teletraan I came online.

"Oh man, Teltraan, 'm I glad ta see you." Wheeljack laughed, grinning up at the monitor. There was a moment of silence before a whirring sound alerted us that Teletraan was running a primary scan of our systems. I frowned as I realised the cog to stand next to Wheeljack, hoping the scan would have no adverse affects on our human bodies. After a moment the scan stopped and Teletraan released a hiss of hot air from his CPU - not unlike a sigh.

"I suppose I should not be surprised." The computer grumbled, taking another second to run a scan through it's own functions. "You Autobots get yourselves into the oddest of situations."

"Tell me about it." I muttered.

"There was the time when-"

"It-it's a figure of speech, Teletraan." I said quickly. "A rhetorical."

"I see." A single green light flickered onto the monitor and slid down towards us, widening slightly. Teletraan's 'optic', for lack of a better word. "Interesting. Upon first glance you seem to be completely organic."

"Seem to be?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes. That you are completely organic is an untruth. The electrical currents passing through your human-modeled bodies are far higher than that of any human living. In fact I am fairly certain that just half of your current electrical output would be enough to terminate a healthy human male. Your brains are functioning at full capacity, hardly a task the humans have mastered, and your sparks remain intact."

Wheeljack and I instantly placed our hands over our chests, looked to each other, then to Teletraan I excitedly.

"You mean our sparks are still dere?"

"Affirmative."

"Thank Primus." I whispered, smiling again. It was possibly the best news I'd heard in a while.

"What in Vector Sigma are you two doing up there!" Wheeljack and I looked over our shoulders as RedAlert approached the stairs. "I can't do all this tampering by myself! I'm not even programmed for this kind of thing!" He stepped up onto the stairs, stomping angrily towards us. "What's the big idea leaving me t-"

Instantly the stair beneath him gave way, crumpling under him like scrap metal and dropping him to the floor. Luckily he'd barely started his climb up so the fall was hardly going to leave a mark. It'd do damage to his CPU though, adding fuel to his fire. I sighed and immediately started down the stairs.

"-sabotage!" Red shouted, quickly scrambling out from under the debris.

"Now, Red," I started.

"What was that crash?"

All eyes were on the door as a small group of Autobots walked in. It took me a moment to recognize them all, still unaccustomed to seeing them as humans. Optimus Prime was in the lead, with Tracks beside him. Jazz, Elita One, Kup and Ironhide brought up the rear.

"Wheeljack's stairs have been sabotaged!" Red shouted, jumping to his feet and running to Optimus. "There's a traitor here!"

I rolled my eyes slightly as RedAlert turned to look at me, clearly intent on outing me as the traitor. Prime put a hand on his shoulder and nodded.

"I'll look into that, Red." Prime offered me a soft smile as RedAlert pushed his way through and into the hallway.

Wheeljack moved up beside me as Optimus lead his small group further into the room.

"What can we do for you, Optimus?" Wheeljack asked cheerfully.

"I've come to collect Ratchet."

"Me?" I exchanged a look with Wheeljack.

"Sam is returning to his home to gather a few things he's determined are essential for us in these bodies. He's requested a few of you accompany him."

"To distract his parents." Elita supplied with a grin. Optimus looked a bit embarassed as he nodded.

"Right."

"I take it I'm going then." I said with a smile. Optimus nodded. "Who else?"

"You'll be taking Ironhide and Jazz." I tilted my head slightly as Ironhide gave me a wave, and Jazz barely twitched. I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest.

"When are we leaving?"

"Now." Kup grunted, moving up behind Tracks and eliciting a groan of displeasure from the smaller Autobot as he was shoved aside. "The sooner you get out there the sooner you can get back and start figurin' out how to get us out of these bodies!"

"Easy, Kup." Optimus warned gently, holding up a hand. "Can you spare a few hours right now, Ratchet?"

"Uh - sure, Prime. Now that Wheeljack's got Teletraan up and running I'm pretty useless anyway." I chuckled.

"Wonderful. Sam and Mikaela are waiting outside."

I smirked a little, deciding not to ask Optimus what he planned on doing had I not been able to tear myself away from my work just then.

"Well, come on you two. Looks like we've got our first away mission." I smiled at both Ironhide and Jazz as I headed into the hallway. I caught the beginning of a plea from Tracks, something about looking into a Raoul, before we were out of earshot. Ironhide soon moved up to walk almost beside me, and I could hear Jazz's steps lagging behind.

I knew why Optimus had decided to send him.

At first I was a little upset with him, when the whole transformation had subsided. Everyone was put out, everyone was angry and scared, I confronted him about his attitude. In hindsight I suppose I was only acting out on my own insecurities. I called him a series of names I wish I could take back. He listened, just staring at me silently until I'd finished my rampage. He'd then come clean. He apologized, but he said his mind was elsewhere.

When pressed further he'd only had to say one thing for my senses to jump back into place: Prowl.

Just days before the contagion took over the Autobot base Optimus had sent Prowl out on a mission. In our current state Jazz had no idea where Prowl was or how he was fairing. We had no way to contact our away team and they had no way to contact us. If and when the team returned, how would they react? What would they think? Jazz said he was stuck. He desperately wanted to protect his bondmate from sharing the same fate, but at the same time the thought of never being able to be close to Prowl again haunted him.

After our talk I decided that I couldn't blame him for his attitude. In his situation I cannot honestly say I would have acted any differently.

I felt almost empowered as I lead my small team through the base to roundezvous with our human friends. I imagined the smirk on my face said as much. Sam and Mikaela were waiting in the downstairs den, along with a few of the younger Autobots. I wasn't surprised to see the boys (Bee, the twins, Blurr, and Hotrod), but I was quite noticably taken aback by the presence of Arcee, Mirage and Skyfire.

"Oh hey, Ratchet!" Hotrod said cheerfully, waving from his precarious perch on the back of the couch.

"Is there a party going on that we weren't invited to?" I asked cheerfully, trying to shake the feeling of a storm cloud rising behind me. I gave Arcee a smile as I placed my hand on her shoulder in passing.

"I wish." The twins muttered in unison.

"We're teaching Mirage and Skyfire english. Or- at least trying to teach them english." Sam supplied, earning an enthusiastic nod from Bumblebee.

"Why in Sigma would you wanna do that?" Ironhide growled from over my shoulder. "We've got enough complaints 'round here without adding insult to injury."

"Well how would you feel if you were in their place, Ironhide?" Arcee quipped quickly, hands on her hips. "Not only in a strange new body but unable to communicate?" Her voice suddenly got low and trailed off. I looked around as a strange kind of awkwardness filled the room. I caught Sam give Bumblebee's arm a squeeze out of the corner of my eye. I slapped a hand to my forehead.

"Oh no. I hadn't even- Slag." I whispered, rubbing my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Bee. I kept putting off your repairs. I figured you'd always have that comm. to fall back on."

The young Autobot quickly lifted both hands and waved them, telling me not to worry about it I'm sure. It wasn't that easy. I'd been so caught up in other things...

"Well, that's first order of business once we get our bodies back."

He grinned wide and nodded once.

I gave the group another once-over, ignoring the faces the twins were making, and let my eyes settle on Sam.

"So, I understand we're retrieving a few things from your house, Sam?"

"Oh! Right!" He leapt off the couch and jerked a thumb behind him. "We're gonna borrow Mikaela's dad's van and pick up a few things. Did um - did Optimus tell you why you were coming with us?" I chuckled a bit at the sheepish expression.

"We're distractin' your folks." Jazz supplied, the first words I'd heard out of him in a few days.

"Ri-right.." Sam muttered, shaking his head. "We shouldn't be gone too long." He offered by way of a farewell waving to Mikaela and Bee who were obviously staying behind.

The van, parked right outside, looked like it was about ready for the junk heap. I heard Ironhide mutter similiar sentiments behind me as Sam darted around to the driver's side.

"Are you sure this thing isn't going to - break down on us, Sam?" I asked as politely as possible as I took a seat in the passenger's side, leaving Ironhide and Jazz to battle for seats in the back of the van.

"It is Mikaela's dad's van... He is a mechanic. It'll be fine."

"Do... humans understand the concept of 'famous last words'?"

I was given a withering look and turned my attention to gazing out the window.

My mind drifted back to Mirage and Skyfire. Teaching them english would be a long process. Without trying to get my hopes up I imagined we'd be back in our real bodies long before either of them had a good grasp on the language. Teletraan's words from just moments earlier rang in my ears and my hand moved to my chest. Knowing that my spark was there, even if I had no way to reach it, settled me some. I realized that I'd left without giving Optimus the news, but I imagined Wheeljack would fill him in. Perhaps they'd even delve deeper into things with Teletraan while I was gone. It was something to look forward to, I supposed. Unless the news was bad.

I shook my head. No use thinking like that.

"What exactly are we gettin' from you folks that we don't already have?" Ironhide piped up from the back. "The girls've been bringin' back armloads of junk ever since Inferno got that money. What else could we possibly need?"

"Well, Ironhide, let me explain." I pulled my gaze from the window to study the young human as he spoke, it sounded like a rather serious topic.

"Women on earth have this... disease. It's called shopaholic syndrome. It's very serious."

"All women have this disease?" I asked slowly.

"Most of them, Ratchet. It's very unfortunate. There's no known cure save an overdrafted bank account, and some women get through that too."

I exchanged a suspicious glance with Ironhide. Jazz raised his eyebrows.

"This ... terrible disease forces women to buy things they may not need, especially if said items are on sale."

"You serious?" Jazz muttered, arms crossed over his chest tightly. Sam gave a grave nod and sighed deeply.

"It's one of the greatest plights of mankind."

"Bullshit." Ironhide barked.

Sam's laughter faded into silence that lasted for the rest of the trip. It was almost awkward, but I think the four of us were too preoccupied to really acknowledge it. My thoughts and the worries racing through Jazz's processor were easy to assume, but for the moment I had no insight as to the feelings or thoughts of either Ironhide or Sam. Ironhide was - tough to crack to say the least. He tended to keep everything in until it boiled over and came pouring out, usually in the form of aft-kicking. Sam was an alien entity to me, in more ways than one. It had been so long since I'd been the equivalent of his age. Our boys still baffled me from time to time, I wasn't about to try and understand an alien of the same age.

The van came to a rather lurching halt and Sam grinned. I noted a hint of relief on his face.

"We're here."

As Ironhide and I moved to open the doors, Sam quickly hit the auto lock button. Ironhide grunted and struggled for a second before he realized what had happened. Jazz and I looked patiently to the boy for an explaination.

Sam took a deep breath, steepling his hands in front of his face and closing his eyes a moment. It almost looked like he was praying.

"Alright, guys, all honesty here. I told Optimus I wanted you three to come with me because you're like... I mean, out of all the Autobots you've got some pretty high common sense scores. I feel like-like I can trust you guys not to do anything freaky in there. Please-please-please don't prove me wrong."

I looked over my shoulder at Jazz, who merely raised his eyebrows. Ironhide grunted again.

"Just open the door so we can get this whole thing over with."

"Right." We followed Sam to the front door of his house. Seconds before his mother answered his knocking he looked over his shoulder to us once more.

"Just follow my lead guys."

"Sam?"

"Mom!" Sam turned quickly back around and embraced his mother. She looked more than a little confused. "Good to see you, mom."

"Sam- since when do you use the front door? And during daylight hours no less..."

I gave a soft wave as the duo parted and Sam's mother looked directly at us.

"Who- who are you friends, honey?"

"Oh, right. Mom, these are some of the guys from Mikaela's dad's shop... Uh..." Sam turned to look at us, arm out as if preparing to introduce me, when he paused. "This- uh- this is...Gregory!" He shouted quickly, nodding as if assuring himself he was correct. He looked to Ironhide.

"Uh-B-bruce, yeah, and um.." His eyes moved to Jazz last. He rubbed the back of his head.

"Morgan."

I gave Ironhide a quick look as he moved as if to correct the boy - aliases, it was a good idea. Sam's mother nodded and cocked her head to one side.

"It's um, a pleasure to meet you all."

"You too, Mrs.Witwicky." I offered for the lot of us. Sam quickly threw an arm around his mother's shoulders and led her inside just a little - just out of earshot. He leaned down to talk to her in hurried whispers.

"Ain't 'Morgan' a female name?" Jazz grumbled lightly.

"M'names not Bruce." Ironhide agreed.

"Just grin and bear it, you two."

"How're we supposed to follow his lead when we can't hear where he's goin'?" Jazz continued, shaking his head.

After a short moment there was apparently an understanding between mother and son, and Sam came to fetch us as his mother disappeared inside.

"Ok guys, she's gonna make you something to drink. You just gotta sit in there on the couch and keep them entertain-er, occupied until I'm done. Alright?"

"Easier said than done." Jazz sighed as we all followed Sam into his house. He began leading us towards a large couch when two small mammals rushed down the stairs. I was no expert on human habits, but I could clearly identify large amounts of soap piled atop the short hair on the bodies of these two creatures. As Sam bent down to scoop them up his father came rushing down the stairs. I sat in the center of the couch, Ironhide to my right and Jazz on my left.

"-soap all over the new linolem- Sam." He paused, and father and son exchanged a nod. "When'd you get - who are they?"

"War Vets, Ron!" Called Sam's mother from the kitchen.

"War Vets?" Sam's father walked passed his son towards us and gave a salute. It was nothing like the salutes we'd seen Lennox and his men give - it was incredibly sloppy. Ironhide, Primus bless him for trying, returned the salute. Sam stood for a moment in the hallway, a soapy critter under each arm before he sighed heavily and trudged upstairs.

"It's an honor to meet you." Sam's dad said cheerfully as his wife returned, carrying a tray decorated with glasses.

"I hope decaff is ok. We're trying to cut back." She smiled and set the tray down on a small table, handing us each a mug. Ironhide and Jazz exchanged a look behind my back as I attempted to do what we'd been sent here to do - make smalltalk.

"Thank you for your hospitality." I gave what I hoped was a convincing smile and nodded towards the stairs. "Sam is a great boy. You should be proud."

"I'd be prouder if his grades were better."

"Ju~udy!"

"What? You're the one always complaining about how much money we're spending sending him to college... he could at least put forth a little more effort."

Ironhide coughed next to me, and attempted to politely decline the drink by setting the mug back on the tray. I looked down into the contents of my own glass. It was a dark, steaming liquid. It looked to have the consistency of most earth oils - slick but bitter. I took a small sniff and found the scent pleasing. I took a careful sip, having learned the hard way all about hot drinks. The taste was very reminiscent of the scent, and it was darker than I had anticipated - but that wasn't a problem. It reminded me a great deal of the drinks I'd shared with my agemates in the academy so many millions of years ago. I smiled and looked up, only to notice an awkward silence had fallen over the room.

I cleared my throat.

"What uh- what did you say this was?" I asked Mrs.Witwicky politely.

"Decaff, Jamaican blend."

"You ever been to Jamaica?" Mr.Witwicky asked, looking pointedly to Jazz.

"Uh well, no. I don't think so." Jazz replied quietly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Great place."

"Nice people, very nice." Mrs.Witwicky added. "Ron won an award last time we were there!" She exlaimed, darting over towards a shelf above a fireplace. She picked up the trophy and returned. Atop the circular platform was the carving of a human male bent almost completely in half, attempting to slide under what looked like a pole of sorts. I imagined it was a sport of some kind.

"Impressive!" I said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as I thought necessary.

Lifting my head I caught movement just outside the home. It was Sam. He was bent almost double, dragging something which appeared to be quite heavy across the lawn. He gave a pull and the small, rounded, table-like object slipped from his grasp. He stumbled and landed flat on his back in the grass, the object narrowly missing him between the legs. He stared for a moment then flopped back into the grass.

The realization hit me that we might be here a while. I looked quickly to Mr.Witwicky.

"Mind giving us a demonstration?"

Ironhide, Jazz and both adult Witwicky's looked at me in shock. I kept a smile on my face hoping I hadn't said anything offensive.

"You- you wanna see me limbo?" Mr.Witicky asked, grinning.

"Now, Ron, I don't think that's a good idea." Mrs.Witwicky interjected, reaching for her husband's arm.

"Nonesense, Judy, this'll be great." Mr.Witwicky declared, waving around the trophy in excitement.

"But Ron, last time you limboed you almost broke your back."

Next to me I felt Ironhide stiffen like he'd been given an electric shock. He stood up quickly.

"I-it's a great idea!" He declared. Jazz and I looked up at him, as did Mrs.Witwicky. "Limbo." He nodded and took a small step forward.

"Here, lemme hold the trophy. You get yourself ready."

"See? Now there you go. A man after my own heart. Nothing to worry about Judy." Mr.Witwicky handed the trophy to Ironhide and moved to a small closet in the back of the room.

Ironhide took the trophy carefully, as if he'd just been handed a child. I cocked my head to one side and watched as Ironhide sat down, pressing the bottom of the trophy to his torso protectively. He gave me a quick look before reaching down and attempting to screw off the bottom of the trophy.

"Ironhide!" I hissed quietly as Jazz was recruited to assist Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky retrieve something from the closet. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Trust me, Ratchet. We need the bottom of this thing - or-or at least what's connected to the bottom." With a sharp glance over his shoulder Ironhide flipped the trophy over to let me see. The bottom of the trophy held a gem, or a pendant. It was slightly pentagonal in shape, but the edges were soft and almost made it appear oval. It was, over all, a rather pleasing green/blue color, with more of a minty contrast towards the edges, and a deep blue sigil etched into the front. I frowned and shook my head.

"Just- trust me." Ironhide said again, and looking at his face, even fleshy, I knew he knew something I did not. Something important. I nodded and together we managed to pop off the gem.

"Alright boys!" We started and turned to look quickly over the back of the couch as Mr.Witwicky shouted from behind us.

Jazz stood across the room from Sam's mother, a pole between them held at waist height.

"Ron, I really don't think this is a good id~ea." Mrs.Witwicky pleaded again.

"Rela~ax, Judy. I know what I'm doing."

"That's what you said when you tried to fix the bathroom upstairs."

"This is different."

"What happened when you tried to fix the bathroom upstairs, Ron?"

"Judy, that's not important."

"What happened, Ron?"

"I shot a nail through my hand- different situation! I can do this!"

Ironhide and I exchanged another look as Mr.Witwicky started towards the pole doing a strange walk. He began to bend slightly as he neared the pole and I frowned. With the distribution of his weight he'd never make it.

"Done!"

The slamming of the front door accompanied with Sam's triumphant declaration startled the lot of us. Mr.Witwicky slipped and landed on his back. Mrs.Witwicky dropped her end of the pole and it smacked her husband in the side. He recoiled with a groan, and Jazz quickly stepped back, releasing his end of the pole so that the whole thing connected with Mr.Witicky's stomach.

"D-dad?" Sam asked curiously, walking around the couch. "What are you doing with your limbo pole out?"

Mrs.Witwicky gave Sam a look that clearly stated she did not have much faith in her husband at the moment. Sam put a hand to his head.

"Dad, you haven't limboed in years. Who's idea was this?"

Jazz pointed to Ironhide along with Mrs.Witwicky. Sam covered his face with his palm.

"We should go." Ironhide supplied.

"No, it's ok. I'm-" Sam's father attempted to sit up, only to groan, clutch his back and lay back down. Mrs.Witwicky smacked him on the forehead and knelt next to him.

"You stay there. I'm calling 911."

"Mom-" Sam started, but his voice trailed off as his mother pulled the phone off a table and started dialing. "Ok you three, let's go. Mikaela's dad is gonna start wondering where you are."

Jazz quickly rejoined the rest of us, and amidst Sam's hurried goodbyes we piled back into the van.

"Did you get what you needed?" I asked as Sam started the van.

"Oh yeah." He nodded and looked into the rearview mirror at Ironhide. "You told my dad to limbo?"

"I was curious."

"Limbo. Do you even know what that is?"

"I said, I was curious." Ironhide crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window. Sam sighed and returned his eyes to the road.

We had a small welcoming party by the time we returned to the base. The sun had set and the English lessons were apparently over. Arcee and Bumblebee seemed engaged in a game of tag with Jumpstart, all three enjoying the warm night air. Mikaela, Tracks, Optimus and some human I'd never seen before appeared from behind one of the other bunkers. This new human had a dark skin tone, and seemed to be more than a little confused. Tracks, on the other hand, looked mortified.

"'Nhide!" Jumpstart shrieked, running immediately to Ironhide for protection from Bumblebee and Arcee. Ironhide picked up the boy and slung him over his shoulder with a grunt. He smiled at Arcee and Bee.

"Thanks for keeping him occupied."

"Even as a human he's the cutest thing I've ever seen, Ironhide. It's no problem." Arcee answered as she and Bee caught their breath. The rest of the outdoor group joined us casually.

"Sam, Autobots, welcome back. Did you get what you needed?" Optimus asked, nodding to Sam.

"Yeah, I did. You guys are in for a treat."

"Hey, I know you!" The lot of us turned to the dark skinned human as he stepped forward. "Yer that kid who was on the news. The one with the alien robot cars and stuff."

"Um, yeah." Sam replied, Mikaela moving to his side. "Who are you?"

"This, is Raoul." Optimus supplied. "A friend of Tracks'."

"I-wouldn't say friend, you know. Just - more like acquaintance." Rauol supplied sheepishly, attempting to glance over at Tracks, who still looked ready to terminate of embarassment.

"Prime, I need ta talk with you." Ironhide grunted, setting Jumpstart onto the ground. "Now." Both Optimus and I raised our human eyebrows.

"What is it, Ironhide?"

"It's urgent an-" He gave a quick glance around him, "no offense but it's not for human ears to hear."

"If it's about what Teletraan told Wheeljack and Ratchet, then I already-"

"That's not even close." Ironhide supplied, his face firm and serious. Optimus frowned and nodded.

"If you'll excuse us then."

I gave a nod of farewell to the others as Jazz and I caught up with Optimus and Ironhide. Ironhide led us quickly inside and into a small, secluded room. We each took a seat, except Optimus, who eyed Ironhide worriedly.

"What is this about, Ironhide?"

"I found this in Sam's house." Ironhide reached into his pocket and quickly removed the small gem. I judged by Jazz's reaction that he had no further information than I did, but Optimus was another story. He faltered noticably and quickly moved to pick up the gem. He turned it over in his hands quickly, before pausing to rub the strange symbols on the front.

"This is-" He started.

"It hasn't even been tapped yet." Ironhide supplied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "It's probably been in that house for years without activation."

"This-this could mean..." Optimus suddenly looked worried. He turned his full attention to Ironhide.

"It appears Earth and Cybertron are more deeply connected than we assumed."

"Not to interrupt here, but, could Jazz and I be brought into focus please?"

"That's a minicon disk." Ironhide said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Completely sealed, which means it hasn't been opened since it left Cybertron."

"A minicon disk!?" Jazz and I shouted in unison, leaping to our feet. Optimus and Ironhide nodded, the former still entranced by the object in his hands.

"Do you think the Decepticons know?" I asked quickly. Ironhide shook his head.

"I don't think so, Ratchet. If they did... We would have heard from them by now." Optimus supplied in agreement with Ironhide, setting the disk down on the table. He frowned and sighed heavily.

"In these bodies, we have no way to open it. We have no way to communicate with the minicon sleeping inside."

Silence fell over the room as we all looked to each other, at a loss to our next move. This changed everything. The Minicons - they changed everything.

"For now, I'll put this next to the fragment of the AllSpark upstairs. We need to tell the others." Optimus said softly, picking up the disk again and rubbing his thumb over it. "This - could be a curse or a blessing in disguise."

Transformers Fic List

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 22:15:44 GMT

This post will be constantly updated as I continue to write Transformers fics and as I continue to add entries to the Contagion Wikia.

Contagion:

Chapter 1, Bumblebee
Chapter 2, Thundercracker
Chapter 3, Ratchet
Chapter 4, Soundwave
Chapter 5, Jazz
Chapter 6, Runabout
Chapter 7, Ironhide
Chapter 8, Skywarp
Chapter 9, Hotrod
Chapter 10, Skyfire
Chapter 11, Optimus Prime
Chapter 12, Starscream
Chapter 13, Blurr
Chapter 14, Rumble
Chapter 15, Sam Witwicky
Chapter 16, Laserbeak
Chapter 17, Kup
Chapter 18, Starscream
Chapter 19, Skyfire
Chapter 20, Hook
Chapter 21, Sideswipe
Chapter 22, Ravage
Chapter 23, Elita One
Chapter 24, EOS
Chapter 25, Wheeljack
Chapter 26, Soundwave
Chapter 27, Springer
Chapter 28, Alexis
Chapter 29, RedAlert
Chapter 30, No Narrator
Chapter 31, Sarah Lennox
Chapter 32, Mikaela
Chapter 33, Scrapper
Chapter 34, Inferno
Chapter 35, Megatron
Chapter 36, Tracks
Chapter 37, Longhaul
Chapter 38, Ratchet
Chapter 39, Alexis

Non-Contagion (Cannon in Contagion Universe)

Transformers A 2 Z
And You, My Love?
Dual Part One
Dual Part Two
Dual Part Three
Individual Results May Vary Part One
Individual Results May Vary Part Two
Individual Results May Vary Part Three
Seeking That Which Cannot Be Sought
Unlikely Alliance
Secrets We Keep

Transformers Armada

Flick
Lesson

G1

Mending The Hero

The Contagion Wikia

Homepage

Secrets We Keep

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:59:58 GMT

A very short fic during Starscream's first years as a Decepticon, as Second in Command, as Megatron's Bondmate.

That was it - No more. He was through playing Megatron’s sick and twisted little games! He was supposed to be his Second in Command, his slaggin’ bondmate, not some toy Megatron could just use and throw away when he was done! He was going to tell him faceplate-to-faceplate that things needed to change or-or he was going to do something drastic!

Starscream slowly peered around the corner of the hall in front of him. He clicked his glossa against the roof of his mouth and quickly hid himself again upon noticing that Megatron’s guard for the night was none other than that split-spark Soundwave. He’d just snuck out of the med-bay and was in no shape to take down the communications officer, but that wasn’t about to stop him. Megatron had ripped into his hide like he was a prisoner, like he was a scrappin’ Autobot! And then he’d had the audacity to bond with him afterwards! He wasn’t going to stand for this. He pulled a small smirk over his lips and powered down his optics, focusing instead upon his thermal scanners.

He could ‘see’ Soundwave pacing in front of the door to Megatron’s personal quarters, but the blue Decepticon was distracted. Starscream bent his optic ridges in confusion and tried to focus on his scan of the taller bot, trying to decipher what exactly it was that had his attention. He followed the flow of energon through Soundwave’s mainframe until he registered where it was settling - in the upper right corner of Soundwave’s helm. His comm channel! This was his chance.

He snuck out from behind the corner as quietly as he could, firing back up his optics as Soundwave put his back to him. He glanced quickly down either side of the hall and then shot upwards behind Soundwave; powering his thrusters just enough to give him the lift he needed to wrap his arm firmly around Soundwave’s neck, under one arm. He balled his right hand into a fist and pressed it into the side of Soundwave’s helm, forcing it towards the large cannon on the blue mech’s shoulder. He felt the communications officer stiffen.

“Shhhh!” He chuckled, lifting the finger of his left hand to his mouth across Soundwave’s chest.

“Starscream, what do you think you are doing?” Soundwave responded in his usual monotone, though it seemed as if there was a slight hint of aggravation there as well. He knew he was more than capable of removing the nuisance from his back, but he was curious as to why he was being assaulted, as it were, by the young air commander, so he would at least hear him out before turning him in to Megatron.

“I’m - I’m sneaking in to see Megatron! That’s what I’m doing!” Starscream hissed, his voice like hot steam through nearly closed vents. He felt Soundwave’s body relax a little and so he too lowered his guard - a mistake, he was to find out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the med-bay?” Soundwave continued, powering down his optics in annoyance and slight pity. He had heard that Starscream had become no more than a smear under Megatron’s thumb, but he hadn’t really believed it - not after remembering the young mech in the academy: The loud-mouthed, take-no-slag-from-anyone Starscream.

“I- Of course not!” Starscream continued, voice rising in pitch and volume. He berated himself for lowering his guard and brought his voice back down to a low whisper. “I’ve been fully repaired and now it’s time to make Megatron pay!”

Soundwave stiffened and suddenly lurched forward, reaching back to grab the large vents on Starscream’s pauldrens. He easily flipped the Seeker over his own chassis and dropped him ungracefully to the floor on his aft. He stepped up behind him and lowered a small hand-held gun to the back of Starscream’s helm.

Starscream’s optics flashed wildly as he was so easily bested by the emotionless split-spark. He balled his hands into fists and slammed them into the ground, tipping his helm forward to escape the feeling of Soundwave’s barrel pressed there. He flared his vents angrily and powered his optics back down.

“Go ahead and alert him then - I’ll just scrap him later.”

“You are not powerful enough to scrap Megatron, Starscream.”

“And how would you know?!” Starscream hissed, turning to look up at Soundwave, a little surprised that the blue Decepticon permitted him to move so freely.

“Because his influence over you is too strong for you to terminate him willingly.” Soundwave cocked his helm to one side as Starscream stared at him, optics wide and jaw slack. The Seeker worked his jaw for a few moments, as if trying to find words, but he eventually gave up and moved to stand.

“You’re a fool.”

“I am distanced for a reason, Starscream.” Soundwave waited until Starscream looked at him again, optics to optics. “Megatron will destroy you.”

“I’m his bondmate!” Starscream quipped before he could stop himself, his faceplate reflecting fear at having spoken the words out loud for a second before he steeled his expression again. “He wouldn’t destroy me - he needs me.”

“I did not say ‘terminate’, Starscream. He plays games - he is glitched.”

“That sounds like treason.”

“His central processor has always been twisted and corrupt, Starscream - and I would hope that after he landed you in the med-bay you would see that.”

“He- What are you talking about? I- had an accident.”

“Don’t be a fool, Starscream. I can see straight through you.”

The two regarded each other for a nanosecond in silence until Starscream looked away, crossing his arms over his cockpit.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Soundwave. You sound like you need a good recharge.”

Soundwave flickered his optic visor for a second as he watched Starscream walk away, steps stiff. At least he knew he’d reached him - though he was not sure of the good it would do.

You’re too soft-sparked for your own good, Soundwave.

I am aware, Ravage.

Why do you feel the need to communicate with him so strongly?

I...

You hide from the Decepticons your true feelings, Soundwave. You’re more an Autobot than a Decepticon. Starscream is not your child- not your responsibility.

He ... reminds me of someone. I do not-

You cannot save Dreadshot by averting Starscream from the path of destruction he, himself, has begun to walk.

Soundwave frowned, even though he could not hide this from his cassette, snuggled up against his spark, and so he returned to his silent vigil outside the tyrant’s chambers. Trying not to pine over the fate of the air commander, he permitted Ravage to ruffle through his memories of Dreadshot for him...

Mending the Hero

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:57:35 GMT

A short, sweet, sticky fic done for a friend.

Ironhide X Ratchet

Explicit Cybertronian Sex!

“C’mon Ironhide!”

“Yeah Ironhide, show ‘em who’s boss!”

The red Autobot tried his best to ignore his companions as they cheered for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the confidences; he just didn’t want to rub it in the old bot’s faceplate. He couldn’t quite remember how the argument had started, but he knew high grade was involved - and eventually it had come down to arm-wrestling. He was willing to admit that Kup had one up on him in a few areas: but at strength? This poor old soldier was in for a beating.

“All right old bot, you ready?” Ironhide chuckled.

“’Old bot’? Heh, look who’s talkin’. You’re no new model yourself, Ironhide.”

“Oooh!” The gathered crowd (Bumblebee, the twins, Inferno, Red Alert, Hound, Mirage and Trailbreaker) gasped. Ironhide merely laughed.

“Let’s see you make good on those words then, Kup.” Ironhide said as he placed his elbow on the table and offered his hand. Kup smirked at him and quickly took the weapon specialist’s hand. Hound stepped up and smiled.

“Ok, boys: Play nice!” He laughed, then blew a whistle (Primus only knows where he got it) and signaled the start of their match. Both arm wrestlers could tell their opponents were holding back, but neither wanted to give in first. Eventually Ironhide’s faceplate cracked into a smile and he let loose. Unfortunately it wasn’t good enough. Kup gave him one, hoarse laugh, and then unceremoniously slammed his hand into the table. The force of the slam broke the table in half and snapped two cables in Ironhide’s shoulder. Kup moved to his feet triumphantly as Ironhide, shocked, simply stared at the crumpled table.

“How about that!” Kup laughed, grinning as he was congratulated by the crowd.

“Im... impressive.” Ironhide muttered as he stood, one arm dangling uselessly at his side.

“Woah!” Sunstreaker shouted, pointing. “He broke Ironhide’s slaggin’ arm!”

Ironhide grumbled to himself, narrowing his optic scope at the child, before turning and excusing himself from the bustle of curious onlookers. It had been a lucky win, and nothing else. Ironhide just hadn’t had a good tune-up in a while, that’s all.

The large Autobot tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he walked deeper and deeper into the base, seeking out the med-bay. He knew that Ratchet had turned in early that night, Red Alert was outside, and Wheeljack was off gathering supplies for something, so the med-bay would be empty. Which was fine by him. He figured not many of the ‘witnesses’ would remember the match tomorrow, so if he could just patch up his arm before Wheeljack returned, then he’d be in the clear and nobody else would have to hear about this little... embarrassment.

Ironhide cast one more look over his shoulder before carefully pushing open the med-bay double doors and stepping inside. It was dark and deserted, save a small blinking light in one corner which signaled that Teletraan I was in his own version of recharge. The Autobot decided not to take his chances with the super computer, so he turned and walked towards the opposite end of the room. He began to feel a little sluggish, still polished from the High Grade earlier, but he knew (roughly) what he was doing and so he attempted to ignore his misgivings.

He approached a large cabinet of equipment and wrenched open the doors a bit harder than necessary, stumbling backwards from the momentum. He shook his helm once he’d regained his balance and looked up just in time to see a whole shelf slide slowly out of the cabinet, then fall to the floor. Ironhide couldn’t seem to move for a nano-second as he watched the objects previously on the tray spill to the floor, but eventually he kicked into gear and bent down to pick them up.

“Ironhide, what do you think you’re doing?”

The weapon’s specialist slowly lifted his helm as his audios were met with a strikingly familiar voice.

“N... nuthin’.” Ironhide said quickly. “I was lookin’ for something..”

“Ironhide, what could you possibly be looking for in there?” Ratchet sighed, crossing his arms over his chest piece. “That’s a medical supply cabinet. If you’re looking for the rest of the high grade, I promised Optimus I wasn’t going to let any of you have any more tonight - and I intend to keep my promise.”

Ironhide stood slowly, and turned to look profile at Ratchet, not wanting the medic to ask questions about his arm. He lifted his helm slightly, making him look polished and indignant, and scoffed.

“I wasn’t lookin’ for the rest of the high grade, medic.”

“Then enlighten me to the object of your query, Ironhide.” Ratchet said, cocking his helm to the side. He watched as Ironhide’s optics dimmed slightly, attempting to process quickly what it was the medic had asked, before the other Autobot simply scoffed again.

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything.” Ironhide grumped, attempting to cross his arms over his chest. Unfortunately he looked quite foolish when only one arm moved to do his bidding.

“Ironhide, what in Vector Sigma happened to your arm!?” The medic shouted, instantly closing the distance between the two Autobots. He ignored the weapon specialist’s slight groan of protest and grabbed the injured arm for closer inspection.

“It, uh, nothin’!” Ironhide shouted, trying to pull away. Ratchet held fast, however, and began to drag Ironhide towards the examination tables.

“Right. You snapped the two main tension cables in your arm doing nothing.”

“Exactly.” Ironhide grumbled, but he knew he’d already lost the fight. He narrowed his optic scope as Ratchet pushed him to his aft on one of the examination tables.

“Ironhide, you aren’t normally a good liar so what makes you think you’ll be better at it when you’re polished?” Ratchet said as he flicked on a bright lamp and reached over to push Ironhide to his back.

“I’m not polished.” Ironhide mumbled, easily resisting the medic.

“I can smell the high grade on you.” Ratchet’s voice was strained as he tried to shift his weight and gain leverage. “And you were already well on your way by the time I left for recharge.”

Ironhide frowned deeply upon realizing he’d been discovered, more or less, and he gave up. Barely registering how hard Ratchet was pushing on him, both bots were quite surprised when Ironhide laid down only to have Ratchet practically fall into his lap. Ironhide craned his helm to watch he medic stand, a bright flush on his soft faceplate. Ratchet began busying himself with tools and Ironhide brought his working arm up to fold under his helm as he realized he’d be getting repaired whether he liked it or not.

“How’d you know I was in here anyway?”

“I rigged this place with all kinds of alarms after the last time Sunstreaker and Sideswipe broke in.” Ratchet said, sounding only slightly distracted by his tool selection. “Only Wheeljack, First Aid and I know how to get in without triggering them.”

“You hooked up enough alarms to pull yourself out of recharge?”

“No - the alarms are wired internally. I boot up with the first trigger.”

“Isn’t... I mean, that sounds like something Red Alert would do. Are you that paranoid?”

“No.” Ratchet said, looking up at Ironhide. “I just don’t like people playing with my equipment.”

Both bots were only able to stare at each other for a few seconds before they simultaneously recognized the innuendo. Both medic and warrior blushed deeply and looked away: Ironhide cleared his exhaust and Ratchet selected a tool. As the medic started on the tedious task before him, he felt Ironhide’s optics on his chassis and blushed deeper.

“What?”

“I uh - sorry I booted you up.”

“Don’t worry about it; I hadn’t gone completely off-line yet anyway.” Ratchet angled himself to stand profile next to Ironhide and clicked open a panel in the specialist’s shoulder. “Are you going to tell me how you did this?”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it. It’s kinda embarassin’, which was why I was sneakin’ around.” Ironhide paused. “I’ve got a reputation to keep up. I can’t have bots walking around thinkin’ I’m going soft.”

“Ironhide, I honestly doubt there is anything you could say to me that would change how I see you: Strong, brave, selfless, and more than a little silly when polished.”

“Y-you really think I’m all that?”

“Of course I do, especially that last one.”

“Ratchet,” Ironhide said softly as he reached over to touch the medic’s shoulder, “I’m asking you seriously.”

“And that’s my serious answer.” Ratchet said as he carefully set down his tool and turned to look at the weapon specialist in the optics. “Ironhide, are you trying to tell me you don’t think that about yourself?”

“W-well... I mean,” Ironhide sighed, “yeah. I guess.”

“How do you see yourself?”

“Old ‘n washed up.” Ironhide said quickly, looking away.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ironhide. Look at me,” the medic paused until the warrior complied, “you are one of the bravest, strongest and most selfless bots I have ever had the privilege to meet. I don’t think there’s a single bad bolt in your body, even if you do try and hide behind such a tough chassis. I don’t ever want to hear you doubt yourself again, understand? You’re a hero to those of us who grew up with you, and an inspiring role model to every turbo-revving young punk who gets to fight alongside you. I’d trust my very spark to you, Ironhide.” Ratchet’s voice grew soft, and then it was his turn to look away.

“Ratchet,” Ironhide said quietly, sitting up.

“Lay back down - I’m not done.”

“Ratchet,” Ironhide repeated with a bit more confidence, “you can fix my arm later.” He sighed, grabbing the medic’s wrist gently. When Ratchet still refused to look at him, he pulsed his spark brightly, making it leak a deep red glow from the cracks in his armor.

“You’re polished,” Ratchet mumbled even as his own spark pulsed in response.

“Yeah - but I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Do what?” Ratchet answered predictably. Ironhide chuckled at him and slid his hand from Ratchet’s wrist up to his faceplate. He cupped the medic’s face easily in the palm of one of his large hands and smiled.

“This.” He said, feeling like an old romance novel as he leaned in and captured Ratchet’s stunned but wanting lips. He powered down his optics, feeling Ratchet lean into the action and wring his red hands together. Eventually Ironhide leaned back and broke the kiss, leaving his hand on Ratchet’s faceplate so that he could stroke his thumb over the heating metal there. He powered up his optics to watch Ratchet do the same. For a second they stared at each other, until Ratchet turned his helm and broke the contact. Ironhide frowned and straightened up a little bit.

“You’re polished, Ironhide - and I’m not about to-”

“Ah, don’t gimme that, Ratchet.” Ironhide barked, reaching for the medic’s arm again. “I’m not as far gone as you think I am, and it’s not just the high grade talkin’ here.” He wrapped his fingers easily around Ratchet’s wrist again, and was rewarded with a glance from the medic. “I know you’ve felt it too, right?”

“F-felt what, Ironhide?”

“The tension, Ratchet, between us. It’s been there and growin’ ever since that night on Moon Base One.” Ironhide sighed, rubbing his thumb over Ratchet’s arm.

“We were both polished that night, Ironhide.” Ratchet reminded, but he’d turned towards the weapon specialist again slightly.

“Yeah, and we didn’t do anything either - we both decided that we were too polished to make a decision like that.”

“I fail to see how that situation differs from the present.”

“You’re of sound processor, Ratchet, and I promise you I’ve never really felt as clear-headed as I do right now. You’ve been avoiding me a-and I’ve been avoiding you and we’re trying to pretend like we’re not doing it.”

“I-I don’t..”

“Don’t play stupid, Ratchet, I’m trying to tell you somethin’ and we both know I’m not good at talkin’.” Ironhide waited until Ratchet met his optics again. He could feel the medic scanning his scopes in an almost worried way, but the white bot’s spark pulsed again and Ironhide knew he was right about Ratchet, for once. He moved his hand again from Ratchet’s wrist to his faceplate and hummed softly as the medic powered down his optics and tilted his helm towards the touch.

~I love you, Ratchet.~ He commed softly. ~Bond with me.~ He watched Ratchet’s optics flare back into life and the medic stiffened under his hand. He looked towards the door, then back to Ironhide.

~I don’t know if that’s a good idea.~

~Why not?~ Ironhide said quickly, staring hard at Ratchet. ~Don’t try and tell me you don’t feel the same way Ratchet, because I can feel it. I’m normally not good at reading people, but I-I feel like I... I can predict you, Ratchet. I want to know you completely and- It is a good idea. Here. Now. What if we don’t get another chance?~

~Don’t get all morbid warrior on me, Ironhide.~ Ratchet commed, but his voice was soft. He tilted his helm slightly and stepped closer to the table, gripping the side with his hands tightly. Ironhide turned and swung his legs off the table, moving to stand beside Ratchet. He reached out and placed his hand atop one of Ratchet’s.

~It’s the truth and you know it, med-bot.~ He pried his fingers between Ratchet’s hand and the table and eventually brought the red hand towards his chestplate. Ratchet turned to permit the action and soon found himself with a hand palm-flat on Ironhide’s chest. He looked at his hand for a moment, illuminated by back-light as Ironhide pulsed his spark, and then up at Ironhide. They met optics again, and Ironhide offered a small smile.

~I... never imagined our first time would be, well, in the med-bay.~

~Me either. I thought we’d end up in Prime’s office or something.~ Ironhide was rewarded with a smack. He quickly released Ratchet’s hand, caught the offending limb and used it to pull Ratchet in for another kiss. He held Ratchet’s arm behind his helm for a moment or two as he pressed their chests together, then eventually released the medic to wrap his only working arm around Ratchet’s waist. He could feel the medic relax against him, one nimble hand on his chest plate and the other lazily in the air by his helm, arm resting on his shoulder. He was surprised when Ratchet pressed his glossa to his lips and thrummed his core at him - he was far more than a surprised recipient this time. He was taking an active role. Ironhide didn’t mind, however, and he smirked, nipping Ratchet’s glossa playfully. Ratchet broke away from Ironhide with a smirk of his own as his curious glossa was nipped, and he turned his helm to rest it on Ironhide’s temporarily useless shoulder.

~You’ve really... wanted this for a while?~

~Mmhmm,~ Ironhide muttered, biting back a small complaint - he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

~Then you can wait a little longer, until I fix your arm.~ Ratchet prodded playfully, moving to get away from the specialist.

Ironhide was momentarily taken aback, and so he gaped as Ratchet dodged his groping arm and ended up behind him. He turned quick and pointed.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this that easy.” He growled. Ratchet shrugged at him and took a small step backwards.

“And what are you going to do, exactly, Ironhide? You might be strong, but we both know you’re not match for me with one arm.” Ratchet said, arching his optic ridges. Ironhide laughed once.

“You wanna try me?” He started forward, noticing Ratchet step back, and then the chase began. Ratchet soon put his back to Ironhide and took off through the large med-bay, gently pushing tables and carts into the path between them. Ironhide, eager but not wanting to damage anything, stepped aside or pushed away the obstacles, growling louder each time he was thwarted. Eventually Ratchet backed himself into a corner, and Ironhide stalked slowly towards him.

~Now what? You’re out of places to hide and things to throw at me...~

~I’m not out of options just yet.~ Ratchet offered, and he quickly closed the distance between them, shocking Ironhide enough to gain the upper hand - but he was done running. He’d had his fun. He wrapped his arms over Ironhide’s shoulders and leaned onto him completely, throwing them both off balance and to the floor. He heard Ironhide grunt as his back connected with the metal beneath them, and he attempted to take the warrior’s mind off the collisions by kissing him again, running his glossa once more over thinned and hardened lips.

Ironhide was more than a little surprised by Ratchet’s sudden ‘take charge’ attitude, but he liked it. He wrapped his working arm over the medic’s back and parted his lips to permit Ratchet’s glossa a bit more play room. Enjoying the strange sensation of having someone else’s glossa in his mouth, he began to drag his hand up and down Ratchet’s back, squeezing at his shoulders, poking and prodding at his armor until, at long last, he found Ratchet’s aft. Oh Primus. Ironhide had always, always liked Ratchet’s aft, even before he’d become exposed to the blaring sexual tension between them. His aft was just so - so perfectly sculpted, so seamless, so - so-

Ratchet broke away from the kiss and turned to look over his shoulder as Ironhide began squeezing his aft. He grunted a little at the attention and rocked his hips against Ironhide’s, brushing lower armor against lowered armor. This had the desired effect and Ironhide’s hand fell to Ratchet’s hip instead of his aft. He heard the red bot mutter a few things under his breath, but he was too preoccupied to try and make them out, or to ask Ironhide to repeat himself. He rocked his hips forward once more, resulting in Ironhide arching against him. He dipped his head down to kiss Ironhide’s shoulders and neck, and the hand on his hip tightened.

Ironhide took a deep breath and used his legs to flip himself over, instantly pinning Ratchet beneath them. The force of the roll knocked over a small table somewhere near to them, but the clattering of tools and equipment was ignored by both parties. Ironhide kept his hand firmly on Ratchet’s hip, but he was bucking his own and bending his legs up in an attempt to further their contact, feeling for a moment as if he was attempting to climb Ratchet. Their lower armor brushed once more and with a click that sounded far too loud to be normal, Ironhide’s lower panel snapped open. He groaned low at the sensation and sought out Ratchet’s mouth once more.

It was Ratchet’s turn to arch into Ironhide as he felt the other bot’s panel slide open against his lower armor. His body began to heat up instantly, tinting his faceplate red and making his vents open full flush. His lips parted as Ironhide found them again and he couldn’t hold back from gasping into his partner’s mouth, cords in his neck tense as Ironhide rocked their lower panels together again. He felt the edges of his panel weaken and then slide open in a mimic of Ironhide’s until the medic’s most sensitive parts were exposed. He broke their kiss and gasped in a panicked breath as Ironhide shifted until he brushed their lower panels together, sending a shockwave of heat through the medic’s mainframe.

~D-do that again...~ Ratchet pleaded, panting as he moved his hands up to grip Ironhide’s helm.

Ironhide nodded, tightening his fingers around Ratchet’s waist once more before rocking forward again. He felt his core thrum upon hearing Ratchet gasp out again, upon feeling him practically shudder under Ironhide’s weight. The medic’s hands moved to his neck and shoulders again and the fingers began kneading at the metal there. Ironhide powered down his optics and slid his hand up Ratchet’s side, then back down before reluctantly pulling it away and bracing himself against the floor with it. He lifted himself off Ratchet, resting on his elbow with his fingers splayed on the floor near Ratchet’s shoulder. He leaned back down and brushed his lips softly over Ratchet’s.

~S-switch?~ He panted, and Ratchet nodded almost frantically against him.

Ratchet paused for a nano second more before pulling one hand away from Ironhide and reaching down between them until his fingers stumbled into his lower panel. Biting back a moan he maneuvered his thumb into the opening and gave the smallest tug. Being a medic had its uses, one of them being that Ratchet had greater control over his body and all its functions than most Cybertronians. He was able to easily switch his panel to the standard ‘female’ position without having to wait for his body to lubricate on his own. As an afterthought, however, as he pulled his hand back up slowly, brushing the back of his knuckles against Ironhide’s rough outer armor, he coerced his body into lubricating quickly. By the time his arm was again around Ironhide’s neck he felt the lubrication gathering in the corners of his panel, making him more than ready for Ironhide to continue.

Ironhide did his best not to squirm as he felt Ratchet’s hand moving between them, and he let out a moan as the medic made sure to brush his armor on the way back up and out. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing forward hard as Ratchet’s hand found its place on his shoulder again. His core thrummed louder as Ratchet moaned from the weight and began bending his legs upwards until his knees were even with Ironhide’s hips. He felt Ratchet begin to squirm and he tilted his head down to kiss and suck at the medic’s neck. As the red fingers began to dance over his back and shoulders, pulling and scraping at him, trying to pull him as close as he could come, Ironhide felt his piece pop and brush against the heat centered in Ratchet’s lower panel. The weapon’s specialist moaned deeply.

Ratchet let out a deep hiss as Ironhide shifted his body, trying to position them correctly and succeeding in brushing his panel against Ratchet’s once more. The sensation was bliss, almost painful it was so good. Thoughts began to surface and fade away in the back of Ratchet’s central processor as he began to wonder idly how long it had been since he’d bonded with anyone, but the details were lost to him. Eventually he felt Ironhide stiffen, and he gathered that the larger bot had determined the best way to continue. After a second of nothing however, Ratchet powered up his optics and started slightly upon seeing Ironhide staring down at him, a strange expression on his faceplate.

~I-Ironhide?~ He commed curiously; the specialists’ optics flickered. ~Wh-what’s the matter?~

~I,~ Ironhide started, then turned his helm to one side, avoiding Ratchet’s gaze. ~I just-~

Ratchet frowned, and tugged Ironhide downwards towards him once more as he powered down his optics again and focused on the armor around his spark. In a few nano-seconds time he’d opened his chestplate to reveal his ‘self’ to the shaken bot above him. He felt Ironhide stiffen and then jerk back to fix his optics on Ratchet’s spark. It was odd, he mused. He’d begun to think he would feel exposed and nervous in front of Ironhide like this, so completely bear - but he didn’t. He felt, comfortable. Almost as if he had done it before.

Ironhide felt his core thrum louder and his spark pulse so hard it almost hurt as he stared at Ratchet’s spark beneath him; open, vulnerable. He felt suddenly afraid, irrationally afraid. He knew that the likelihood of him hurting Ratchet was slim, after all Ironhide was large but Ratchet wasn’t exactly fragile, but he still became suddenly aware of just how large he was, of just how vulnerable he’d made the medic. Apparently Ratchet began picking up on his insecurities, for the softer Autobot wrapped his arms tightly around Ironhide and pulled him down closer, pressing his closed chest plate to Ratchet’s spark. Ironhide shuddered and moaned, clenching his hand into a fist as he felt the seam along his chestplate heat up in a desire to open, to merge with Ratchet. Far be it for him to deny it, after all he was kind of the instigator. He began to slowly expose his spark as he shifted once more, hissed in a breath, and pressed his piece into Ratchet’s valve, rather without warning.

Ratchet’s optics flared up and then died back down as he arched completely into Ironhide, instantly taking whatever length was left of the other bot’s piece into his valve in the process. The back of his helm hit the floor as he began pressing his heels into the ground, almost as if trying to crawl away though that was the absolute last thing on his central processor. He pressed his legs in tightly to Ironhide’s side and closed his hands into fists against his shoulders with a long, shuddering moan. He felt Ironhide’s breath near his spark as the larger Autobot practically folded in half atop him, his one working arm shaking from the strain. Ratchet wanted to reach out and buckle in Ironhide’s elbow, force him to put his weight onto the medic and relax enough to enjoy the experience in its fullness, but his body was bonding now - and it hadn’t felt this good in so long. He could barely maintain a single stream of thought, let alone work his chassis in accordance to a plan. He hissed in a breath as Ironhide shifted, pulling out and pushing back in roughly as his chest plate opened completely and left him just as exposed as Ratchet.

Ironhide felt a shudder pass through his whole being as he exposed his spark to the world for the first time since he was a child. He’d never intentionally tell Ratchet that the medic was his first bondmate, but he had a feeling that eventually he would find out, so he became determined to come to terms with the fact and not shy away from this new experience. He slid forward slowly, carefully, until he could feel Ratchet’s breath on his face; until they were so close he could simply pucker and their lips would touch. He felt his spark quiver in its chamber, and then miraculously and painlessly, it sort of leapt forward. He tried to angle his helm enough to watch, but the moment the two sparks came close enough to lick at each other with their small threads of electrical current, his optics powered down and he fairly collapsed atop Ratchet. He felt the surface of his spark connect, and then begin to push through into Ratchet’s spark and he let out a soft cry.

Ratchet’s central processor flickered between concentrating on the presence within his valve and the bonding of his spark to Ironhide’s. It was a chaotic but blissful sensation that made time seem meaningless to the medic. He latched his hands behind Ironhide’s helm and pulled him closer. He wanted to feel Ironhide around him completely, that very instant, but he also wanted to savor the feeling, to give himself completely to the bond like he had never been able to do before. He urged his own spark forward gently; feeling it push into Ironhide’s and bring them almost half-way through the process. He lifted his helm off the floor and pressed his lips to Ironhide’s shoulder to swallow a moan as he began to feel Ironhide’s presence within him. The warrior was tentative but eager, spreading electric currents like fingers through his central processor, through his mainframe, through the delicate inside of his chassis. He felt the wires low in his midsection tense up and knot together for his bodily functions could not so easily forget the steady in-and-out rhythm the warrior began to pound into the medic’s body.

Ironhide felt the overwhelming urge to say something to Ratchet, but his processor couldn’t find the words, and his body couldn’t function enough to deliver them. He felt a strange cold through his mainframe, but it was comforting, welcome and familiar. He continued to stretch forward with appendages he wasn’t sure he was really in control of, and delved deeper and deeper into Ratchet. He found no walls, no barriers, Ratchet was open to him with no regrets and it made his lower wiring tense in an attempt to hold back overload at the very concept of such openness. His system began to flood with the information pouring out of the medic so willingly, and with a long groan of pleasure he pressed himself forward. His spark slithered forward inch by inch, quicker this time, until the space between their sparks not yet connected was nothing more than a crescent.

Ratchet felt his body begin to weaken, to cave in and beep at him that his overload was coming - and soon. He didn’t want to break this bond without completing the merging; he selfishly wanted to know Ironhide now at no matter the cost to his internal temperature. He manually switched receptors from his lower panel off so that he could more fully concentrate on his spark accepting Ironhide’s into itself, and accept it did. The medic’s spark, the only engaged spark to have experience with bonding, took the final step and pulled Ironhide’s ‘soul’ into itself and merged the two Autobots. For a few, blissful nanoseconds they ceased to be Ironhide and Ratchet and became something new - something pure and perfect and timeless. They were devotion, they were trust, they were admiration and adoration, they were love and lust; they were complete. His helm fell back and his mouth opened in a silent cry as he felt the final stage of the merging begin.

Ironhide’s arm gave out on him and long last, and he crumpled atop Ratchet, his chin resting on the other Autobot’s shoulder as his spark began to do something it had never done before. It was completing the link between medic and warrior. The small threads of electricity had begun to braid with one another and feed back into the Autobots from one thrumming core, infusing them with this new code, this new knowledge - this new being. This information, this total and overwhelming completeness settled into the back of Ironhide’s central processor and filled him with a stunning sensation of perfection. He was now no longer alone - everything that he had was Ratchet’s, and it was the same with the medic. They were now united by body and spark and nothing, nothing could break that. He felt his wires coil, his optics flare white and then offline as he reached overload. His piece emptied into Ratchet’s valve and his spark pulsed brightly in time with Ratchet’s, continuing to infuse this new being into Ironhide until he simply did not have the energy to take anymore, and the sparks parted.

Ratchet felt his whole body, mainframe and chassis alike, suddenly and completely relax and collapse. His legs clattered, open and unabashed, to the floor and his arms joined them, leaving him sprawled spread-eagle beneath the red warrior. He felt Ironhide’s body kick into coolant over-drive, the specialist’s vents opened full flush, his metal began to click. He heard Ironhide make a soft moan as their sparks made the slow, reluctant journey back to their own chambers, then shut and locked themselves away, lower panels following suit. Ratchet reached up with a slightly shaky arm and lifted Ironhide’s faceplate to look at him. He didn’t have anything to say, really, he just wanted to see him. He powered up his optics in time with Ironhide and stared into the face of his new bondmate. Ironhide flashed a tired smile and tilted his helm forward until his forehead brushed Ratchet’s, and he powered his optics back down.

Neither of them were in the state of processor to hear the door click open, and they were both blissfully unaware they had been spotted...

Until Wheeljack dropped his equipment to the floor and fell flat on his aft.

Unlikely Alliance

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:56:12 GMT

This is a slightly altered RP between myself and my significant other. I played Blaster and Rumble, and he played Soundwave and Frenzy. This takes place back on Cybertron, before the events of the first Michael Bay Transformers movie, before Contagion.

The world was dark around him and the logically-minded Decepticon knew that there was a good reason for it. Though, at the current time, he was having a hard time concentrating enough to determine what that reason was. All he knew was that he was damaged, quite damaged and that his systems had diverted themselves to take care of his primary functions and help to heal and care for his casseticons.

Yes, that was why his surroundings were so dark.

As he continued to come around, back to conscious thought, he began manually diverting power to the systems that would be useful to him, sight included. Golden red optics flared to life as well as a few other small lights that littered the decepticon's large body. The lights danced on stone walls as they flickered, low power and grave injury making their operations sporadic at best. Quickly, though his central processor functioning still seemed sluggish, he determined that he had ended up in some sort of structure, seeming natural in origin, though, from what he could tell there were very few openings in his cave-like surroundings and that the exit/entrance was most likely sealed up by whatever explosion had injured him and quite possibly the reason he had ended up here.

He attempted to move, but, as he did, he felt something amiss and paused. He felt the unfamiliar feeling of panic rise in his chest and cause his spark to pulse erratically. He felt the echoing pulses of his casseticons from within...but not all of them. Rumble. Frenzy. They were not there. They had not been inside when he was attacked....ambushed. Yes, that had been it. A very well-coordinated surprise attack to get the best of him. Though memories were still just unreachable and he couldn't recall who had been the cause of his injuries.

Blaster let out a shout and tumbled heels-over-helm as he barely dodged a shot to his side. Landing with a thud just under what had once been a busy bridge, his legs way over his helm as he landed in a U position. He sighed and leaned forward to inspect the small injury to the outside of his left leg. It wasn't major, but it was certainly going to be a hassle. He curled up against the various pieces of debris and powered down his optics as his attacker swooped in to make sure he'd been 'defeated'.

The dark blue and purple Seeker seemed to cackle as he gave a half-assed scan of the area and took off.

Blaster powered back up his optics and narrowed their scope. Slaggin' Decepticons. When he was a child it hadn't been this way, 'course he was used to being pursued and shot at, though not by Cybertronians using deadly force. He reached up to put a hand on his helm, stepped forward, and fell once more. He had just enough time to register that he was falling a greater distance than before, and that his landing would probably not be fun, when the ground met his back solidly. He groaned and powered his optics back down at the sound of bending and breaking armor.

He remained still for a moment longer, regaining his sense of composure, letting his equilibrium gauge catch up before reaching to rub the back of his helm. He let out a slight whine as he ran his hand again over his helm - one of his receptors had been broken off. He fingered the broken shaft and shook his helm.

"Man, scrap this." He stood shakily, flaring up his optics to give him a little light in the dark ... tunnel. He looked up and around curiously. It seemed as if the years of debris gathering under the bridgeway had formed a tunnel. He reached out and gave the walls a slight shove. A fairly stable tunnel too.

He put a hand over his chest as Eject stirred and he smiled softly to himself. He was becoming accustomed to hearing the little guy, to feeling his spark so close - but he was still so young. Couldn't let him out here, not in an enviroment like this. Nah, Eject needed sterile surroundings, at least for a while longer, at least until the medics could figure out his malfunction. Blaster stumbled and let out a laugh, catching himself on the wall.

"This was just 'possed ta be recon, man."

Even under the worst of circumstances, the decepticon known as Soundwave's audios functioned at a higher level than almost anyone he'd come across. It was not a boast, simply the truth. He'd heard the commotion echo around the other end of the makeshift tunnel as he lay crumpled against a wall. He could hear the sounds moving closer, a voice, footsteps, and an odd energy signature were approaching him. In a matter of nano seconds, the other bot would literally stumble across him. Logical dictated that he make the first move, even as incapacitated as he was. He could not avoid detection, that was clear.

"Decla-are your loyalty Cybertro-onian." he monotoned, though his usually firm voice broke in several places. Not the image he wished to project, but nothing could be done about that. Along with his ultimatum, the whine of a weapon charging could be heard as he raised his gun level with the darkness that contained the approaching figure.

Blaster froze in his tracks and cursed himself mentally - he should have scanned for signatures! Sure he was new to the whole Autobot thing, most Autobots were. The underground rebellion was over and now they were all forced into this war. He chalked it up to inexperience and promised himself, and his ill child that if they made it through he'd never make the same mistake again. Hearing the whine of a weapon he immediately reached for his own and took aim into the darkness. He quickly noted a faint glow of red off in one corner and narrowed his bright blue optics in response. A Decepticon. Just his luck.

"I'm an Autobot an' proud of it!" He clicked his gun into ready position, and held as still as he could.

Soundwave heard the click of a weapon in response to his own and concentrated his optics on the darkness. He could pinpoint the position of the other life form by sound alone easily, but aiming for specific areas worked best using one's optics. His energy depleted optic sensors picked up on a faint blue glow and adjusted the aim of his weapon. Suddenly, the whine increased in pitch as the small hand-held pistol prepared to fire. It was just then, however, that the sound cut off abruptly and the function light on the side of the small weapon blinked out. Soundwave felt a mixture of annoyance anger flare within him. There was only one thing for him to do, so defenseless. Bluff.

"Sta-and down Au~utobot or I will fire." he said, voice fluctuating with a mechanical whine as he spoke.

"I could say the same ta you, Decepticon." Blaster returned the bluff, feeling Eject become increasingly agitated. He risked giving away too much information and removed one hand from his gun to place his hand on his chestplate, attempting further to comfort his cassetticon. He flared his optics hard, intending to temporarily blind the Decepticon. He knew he'd heard that voice before, but he couldn't place it. He was no authority on Decepticon personel, but a voice like that didn't just fade into the background. He kicked himself for not paying more attention when he was being briefed.

Soundwave was fully annoyed now. His casseticons, small and relatively helpless were out there somewhere and he was stuck in a completely useless bluffing game with some autobot. Though something about the autobot intrigued him. His energy signature was...different. Familiar in an odd kind of way.

"Leave no-ow and i will allow you to live." he threatened, though in his state, his threats were mostly mute. He felt around internally and found that of his repertoire of abilities, he could still use his energy disruptor. He would only use that particular talent if in dire need. To his dismay, most other options seemed closed to him as readings on his own internal functions showed barely enough energy to keep himself and his charges online.

His gun remained leveled at the blue optics as they, quite suddenly flared to brilliant life, momentarily blinding the decepticon until he could dim his own optics in return. Raising the arm that was not holding his gun to shield his face as an instinct, Soundwave looking out from under it at the now-illuminated autobot. His expression was, as it always was, unreadable.

Blaster made a split-second decision and lunged forward, dropping his own gun, to grab the Decepticon. He wrapped both hands around the wrist holding the gun and tried to pry the gun out of the Decepticon's fingers while he shied away from the light.

"An' maybe if you relax - we can get outta here!" He shouted in response, voice strained as he continued to pull on the gun. He was too young for this! He wasn't trained for this, slaggit!

"Look, you might not wanna hear this, 'cause I know I sure as sigma don't, but we ain't gettin' outta here on our own! That hole I fell in's just too high up for either o' us to reach, man, and you - well, you're in a sorry state."

Springing into as much action as he could in his current condition, Soundwave say up quickly as the autobot lunged forward and grabbed his gun arm. With his other hand, he grabbed the bot by the shoulder and attempted to fling him off with all the remaining strength he had, surprising strength. In the process, however, he lost grip on his pistol and it was flung across the cave. He leaned forward to try and make a last minute dive for the weapon before it skittered out of reach on the ground and at the same time, attempted to avoid the autobot's attack. Neither seemed successful as he only ended up crashing to his side. He pushed himself up again and turned quickly to the autobot, one hand instinctively laid against his chest as he felt the restless sparks of his charges flare.

"I function, that iiiis enough." he lied. He was becoming increasingly worried about his two wayward casseticons, though he knew they still functioned wherever they were. He also knew how fragile they were and that at any second he could feel the agonizing pang of their loss.

"Release me auto-obot."

Blaster stumbled away from the Decepticon as he toppled over, and he frowned deeply.

"Look man... I don't like it any more than you do, but - I gotta get outta here! I got things-things I need ta take care of. If you wanna stay down here 'till recharge deprivation gets ya then be my guest. One less Decepticon I gotta look out for. But - I need your help." He slowly knelt down and held his hands in the air. "I don't like doin' this but - I'm beggin' ya. I go-I got important things I gotta do. Things that - that don't concern the Decepticons." He powered down his optics slowly as he reached for Soundwave's gun and slowly handed it back to him. "Now - you c'n shoot me, or see the logic in the situation."

Soundwave watched the autobot for a moment as he pushed himself noisily back into a sitting position. He reached out and accepted his weapon, hand lingering near the autobots for a few long nanoclicks. He spoke almost before he even knew what he was saying. Normally, the communications officer was not so rash.

"The gun in nonfunctional. I could not have fired upon you." he informed the autobot as he leaned back against the wall for a moment setting the weapon at his side. Being so close to the autobot, Soundwave felt something. In the academy, he'd had no equal at reading energy signatures, but it took the internal squirming of his small companions for him to really have a guess at what was so different about this autobot. With that inkling, Soundwave felt a glimmer of hope.

Perhaps, if he was correct, shared understanding would aid him in locating Rumble and Frenzy. He coughed a little and winced at the energon that gurgled in his throat. Internal damage was extensive.

"You are corre-ect autobot, logic dictates that our immediate situation would benefit from a combined effort." he managed to say. He thrummed his core slightly to settle his casseticons who, he imagined, could only be reacting to the small beings the autobot may have possessed within him.

Blaster smiled a little as the Decepticon revealed his bluff.

"If it makes ya feel any better, I've got horrible aim. Even up close I probably woulda missed ya." He moved to stand and took a good look around, zooming in and out as much as the dim lights would let him. He was attempting to make some kind of map for this increasingly vast tunnel of debris. He turned back to the Decepticon as he continued speaking and smiled greatly. War had not yet settled into his processor - the Decepticons were the enemies, but he had not yet locked out all possibilities.. no matter what Kup had told him was in his best interest.

"Good to see you understand reason." He hesitated as Eject began shuddering once more. He needed a medic. Blaster cursed himself for offering to go on this mission so soon. He rubbed at the back of his helm and regarded Soundwave for a moment.

"How bad are your injuries? Can you stand? Walk?"

Soundwave hesitated for a moment, ignoring, for the most part, the autobot's small talk. He pulled both legs in with some effort and lifted one hand to brace himself on the wall. With that, he attempted to push himself to his feet. The first attempt was unsuccessful and he stumbled, but after a moment, he was able to pull himself into a standing position, leaning heavily on the wall. His arms shook, as did the joints in his legs from the strain with so little energy. As he stood, he reveal a pool of energon that he'd been sitting in, his own.

"Affirmative. I am a-able to stand. I do not believe i will be mobile, however, without assistance." he took a step and stumbled, reaching out with his other hand as well for balance. His palm connected with the autobot's chest, only half by accident. He stopped and looked at him. He was right.

Blaster recoiled almost immediately from the Decepticon's touch, but kicked himself in the processor. He had just offered to help. He moved slowly back towards the Decepticon and slid up beside him, swinging Soundwave's arm over his pauldren. He sighed.

"The name's Blaster." He offered, placing a hand gingerly on Soundwave's other side as he took a tentative step forward. He took a moment to scan the nearby tunnels, of which there were many, and decided on a course. Turning them slightly he began leading them down the path at a slow and steady pace.

"This place, man... bizare."

Soundwave was not much for mind games, usually. When the lives of his cassiticons hung in the balance, however, he could make an acception. He allowed himself to be draped over the autobot's shoulders. He played along.

"My designation is Soundwave." he said and then, lifted his other arm, the one that he was not leaning on the autobot with, to touch the other cybertronian's chest again, gently.

"I sense another life form within you." he said bluntly, letting that statement hang for a moment.

Blaster's steps faltered and he looked over at Soundwave in shock. He'd heard things... bad things, about Decepticons and all their rules and superiority complexes. He batted Soundwave's hand away and narrowed his optic scope, ignoring Eject as he made a strange sound for only Blaster to hear.

"And? You gonna back out now, huh, Decepticon?" He was never, never going on another recon mission again. He would just suck up all the yelling. His job was to be at base - work the communcation lines. Encrypt and encode. No more.

Soundwave hesitated. His plan would only work if the autobot understood. Something told him that it would happen the way he predicted, but he still worried. He worked very hard to conceal his nature from his fellow decepticons, what would this revelation do to him? to them?

"No." he told the autobot shortly, a strange kind of anxiety, of fear flashed behind his eyes. He had to do this, for Rumble and Frenzy's sakes. He needed the autobot to find them for him. He pulled back the arm that had just been batted aside and laid it on his own chestplate.

"You are splitspark." he declared before reaching for the autobot's other hand. He took in a deep cooling breath. He would understand. He grabbed Blaster by the wrist and brought his hand up to splay his fingers on his chestplate, allowing him to feel what few others had.

Blaster almost shot backwards, almost decided to just leave the Decepticon to his fate and find some way out on his own - until he realized what was happening. The word Split Spark hissed into his audios like a curse, but the second his hand made contact with the Decepticon's chestplate he knew. He understood. His optics flared and grew wide as he stared at his hand in disbelief. Why hadn't he picked up on this before?! Another Split Spark... no, no a Decepticon Split Spark. Why had they allowed Soundwave to join them? With all their anti-conformity propaganda...

"You too." Blaster muttered after a second, pulling his hand away as if touching something indecent. His central processor warred for a moment silently before he looked back up towards Soundwave's visor.

"Looks like we got more in common than just a bad sense o' direction."

Soundwave felt...violated for a few seconds. The sharing of something so intimate was almost utterly foreign to the decepticon, almost. He composed himself quickly, however, and nodded to his companion.

"Yes." he acknowledged Blaster's attempt at humor before cutting to the chase. "And as you requested that we combine our efforts to escape, I must make a request of you as well." he said continuing to pause in their search for the exit. He rested a hand gently against his own chest for a moment. "Two of my casseticons are missing. They were separated from me during the blast that knocked me into this place. They are young, frail. Much like your own. I must find them. Without me they will be unable to heal properly if injured." He stated with an unasked question, not directly anyway. Will you help me autobot? His eyes asked, flaring for a moment in time with his spark.

Blaster listened, his hand unconsciously in a fist against his chest as Soundwave's words shook him. Missing? Two of them? Blaster had only Eject, and the thought of not being able to see his cassetticon, let alone know they were missing altogether... He shook his helm to clear his thoughts and gave a nod.

"At the risk of soundin' like the poster boy for the Autobot cause, man, all life is precious. I can't let them terminate out there all alone... especially since I-I know how you must feel." He gave another small, half smile and for a fleeting second entertained the possibility of taking Soundwave back to Autobot HQ with him. Of convincing Soundwave to join the Autobot cause. His blue optics seemed to reflect this idea as they flared in a heroic way.

Soundwave smiled inwardly to himself.

"I am in your debt autobot." he said simply before turning to continue their search for a way out. He turned his head this way and that, surveying the area and then, he looked directly down the tunnel and focused their.

"The echo frequencies become longer in the direction in which we are walking. The tunnel becomes larger there." he informed Blaster, an attempt at changing the subject away from his casseticons. He could not stop thinking about them, if he continued to talk about them, he would lose his focus completely.

Blaster nodded and followed Soundwave, hoovering at his side attentively, unable to shake off the feeling of having found another split spark... Someone just like him. He had so many questions. Was Soundwave older than Blaster? He acted that way... but there were plenty of young bots who acted old. Blaster frowned as Eject stirred again, too young yet to actually speak to him in words.

"Bigger?" He said, once he realized Soundwave had been talking to him. "That could be good an' bad." He powered his optics up a click or two higher and moved to walk slightly ahead of Soundwave. "How are we gonna find 'em? You got any idea where they might be?"

Soundwave stumbled along, keeping his composure as best he could under the circumstances.

"The coordinates of our location before we were separated is the only indication of where Rumble and Frenzy might are." he said and paused, he had not planned on revealing their names. It seemed that his preoccupied central processor was effecting his actions afterall.

"It seems to be a structure, built and covered perhaps, by debris over time." he offered as they walked into a larger room-like area that even had support beams. Maybe part of the old Cybertronian ventilation system or power grid. How far had he gone from where he'd originally been thrown? He silently fretted and recalled the coordinates over and over to reassure himself that that particular knowledge had not been lost.

Blaster took a few uneasy steps into the room and gave a slow spin around.

"Woah..." He mused quietly to himself, awed by the size of the underground room he now found himself in. Stepping a little further towards the center of the room he made a rather large splash, and picked up his foot to look at the liquid. It was dark - it looked like... fuel. He pulled a slight face and looked back towards Soundwave as he spoke up.

"You think they ended up down here as well, or would they still be on the surface. Can't you- can't you talk to them?" He voiced hesitantly, then stumbled forward a bit and placed his hand firmly over his chestpiece as Eject began to wail rather loudly. In response to what, though, Blaster was not sure.

Soundwave felt a pang. He would be able to talk with them, would be able to comm. them had they been older, had they been more developed. He could sense the very young spark within Blaster and, while Rumble and Frenzy were not THAT young, they were still not old enough or strong enough to make that connection over distance. And they were still young enough that speaking was not either of their strong suits. Frenzy in particular. Soundwave shook his head.

"No, i cannot communicate with them over such distance. They are too small yet." he informed Blaster silently hoping they had not made a fall of this magnitude. "I am unable to determine whether they ware more likely to be located on the surface or in the tunnel." He felt a strange change in the energy around him as he stepped up next to Blaster. His core flared for a moment.

"Your casseticon, he is very small." he said, the child's wail making the air around them practically vibrate.

Blaster listened with growing apprehension to Soundwave's cold voice. He was speaking so cooly, so detatched about his cassetticons. Blaster felt doubt creep up on him, after all... Soundwave was a Decepticon. Could he - could he possibly not care what state his cassetticons were in? They could be terminated by this point, and yet Soundwave was all facts and hypothesis. If it was Blaster, if it was Eject out there. Blaster looked over quickly at Soundwave, a little surprised that the blue mech was now so close to him. He looked back down towards his chestpiece where Eject's wailing could still be heard, though muffled.

"He-he is." He answered hesitantly. "He's sick."

Soundwave actually cocked his head to one side, as if listening intently.

"You do not know any other split sparks do you?" he asked, a hint of amusement behind his normally monotoned voice. He reached out, then paused as he shifted his eyes to meet Blaster's blue optics.

"I may be able to aid you." he offered, hand still hovering, as if asking permission to touch him again. He did so the first time without, but it was merely to confirm his suspicions.

Blaster narrowed his optics at Soundwave as he spoke, suddenly feeling very young and stupid for being out on his own with a cassetticon so ill.

"I don't, no. We ain't exactly normal, ya know?" He said quickly and with a bit more bite than he had intended. He let Soundwave's words hang for a moment, but he could not ignore Eject's cries. He moved to stand rigid, keeping his optics narrowed.

"How?"

Soundwave's hand remained in mid-air, close to Blaster's chestpiece.

"I cannot perform a medical evaluation upon him, for i am not a medic, but i can teach you to calm him, ease his disco-omfort if you wish it." he offered. He was not sure why he was stopping the search for this. Rumble and Frenzy were the only important things right now. But something about the cries of one so young, and ill, pulled on his spark. His remaining cassetticons seemed upset by it as well as they moved restlessly within him.

Blaster looked away, a slight bit of shame on his faceplate as hot energon colored his cheeks.

"No need to run a diagnostic - I know what's wrong with him, I mean.. I know why he's sick. I still opted to come all the way out here for-" He paused and shook his helm before looking back at Soundwave. Decepticon or no, he might not get another chance like this. The other Cybertronians could only teach him so much, Split Sparks had never been mainstream on Cyberton, and nobody took the time to document even the most basic of functions where they were concerned. Blaster shrugged.

"A-alright. Go ahead."

Soundwave wasted no time in placing his hand on Blaster's chest and just...feeling the child there. The connection was dim since Blaster and he were not bond-mated, nor shared a channel, nor were connected in any other way. Soundwave was simply going on the fact that he knew what he was feeling for, from experience. A frequency. It could be transmitted, sure, but to really know, it had to be felt. After a long stretch of nanoseconds, Soundwave removed his hand. He then, for the second time, though he paused longer this time after remembering the feeling of violation from moments ago, took Blaster's hand in his own and placed it on his chest.

"Each casseticon sparkling has a specific optimum core frequency." Soundwave thrummed his core for Blaster to feel, though that too felt like an invasion of his privacy. "Use this frequency." he instructed.

Blaster looked away as Soundwave touched his chestplate again. It was odd, and he powered down his optics as Eject responded in earnest to the strange signature being fed to him through Blaster's protective outer armor. Blaster powered his optics back up as Soundwave removed his hand and stared for a long second as the Decepticon forced the same touch in reverse. His fingers twitched slightly against Soundwave's chest, but he listened intently. He could do this - for Eject. If it would help the little cassetticon calm, find some peace until they could get back to base, then there was nothing Blaster wouldn't do. He nodded a little.

"Unmodified? Jus-just like you did? Or... signaled? Encoded?"

"Unmodified." he said shortly. "The signal will be tainted with signaling and encoding, it must be directly from spark to spark. You will find that it will work better for you since you are the one bound to the sparkling." Soundwave felt a wave of longing and thrummed his core in harmony for his three casseticons, none of which were nearly as young as Blaster's charge, or his own Rumble and Frenzy. He quickly was reminded of the task at hand and slowly, awkwardly walked out into the middle of the huge room. He scanned it briefly though, to his surprise the place seemed foreign to him.

Blaster watched Soundwave walk away, and stared at the Decepticon's back for a nanoclick more before powering down his optics and placing a hand on his chestpiece. Here goes, he thought before taking in a cooling breath and doing as instructed. He stumbled a little, feeling slightly weak in the knees as his spark was immediately touched by that of Eject's, and the cassetticon quieted. He seemed to curl up tighter and found recharge. Blaster powered up his optics slowly and let out a huff of breath.

He looked up at Soundwave and felt a flare of indignation, and then respect and gratitude for the other Split Spark. Decepticon or not, there were things that crossed faction boundaries. He loped forward into the mucky fuel until it was almost at his knee joints and he stood next to Soundwave. He looked up and around, powering back up his optics to the fullest they could go.

"Man, this place... How'd somethin' so big go so unnoticed?"

Soundwave realized as he heard the thick splashing noises nearby that he hadn't even noticed he was standing in a huge puddle. He was losing feeling in his extremities. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Rumble and Frenzy were most important now.

"My scans indicate that this place predates the current city above by thousands of years, an exact date would be impossible. This place, whatever it's purpose, is very old." he said as he started walking again, wading through fuel muck with relative ease. He pushed on despite his deteriorating physical state, intrigued by odd sonic echoes from the other side of the room, all the way across the nameless expanse.

Blaster nodded. "Yeah, and this fuel smells awful." He mumbled, glancing upwards. He moved towards one of the support beams and placed a hand on it.

"It's startin' to look like this ain't as natural as I first suspected." He turned to look at Soundwave and gave a soft shrug. "It doesn't help us escape, no matter how old it might be... and we gotta get back to the surface to start our search for you Rumble and Frenzy, yeah?"

Soundwave felt himself twitch a little at hearing someone else say their names. Most cybertronians that he knew did not even know they were a part of him, let alone knew their names.

"Affirmative." he answered, swallowing the odd feelings. "I am picking up on an anomaly. If my calculations are correct, this structure had many exits built into it's walls and i believe one of them may be open enough to allow us passage."

"Right on!" Blaster shouted in triumph, sloshing his way through the liquid towards Soundwave in excitement. He opened his mouth to reply when his foot caught on something under the surface of the dark water and, in spite of his flailing, he fell face first into the old fuel. He pushed himself upwards to his knee joints quickly, spitting and wiping at his face plate with a more than disgusted look.

"Oh, man, vile!" He cawed, spitting again. He looked at his hands and groaned.

"Man..." He turned and shoved a hand back into the water, fishing for whatever it was that had tripped him... his hand connected with the object, a slightly rounded object. He narrowed one optic and picked the object up, bringing it to the surface and into the beam of light provided by his optics... His thumb was resting almost naturally within the hole of what was once an optic belonging to the Cybertronian who's head he now held in his hand.

Soundwave considered continuing on and ignoring his new companion, afterall, he may have found a way out of this place. But then he remembered, he needed Blaster's help if he was to get out of here and find his missing casseticons. He turned around and cocked his head just slightly at the sight. He paused, taking another step towards Blaster and looked at the head that was now held in his hands.

"I believe now, that this might be some sort of...arena." he ventured, looking at the head...the configuration was like nothing he'd ever seen. It was older than he could rightly estimate.

Blaster shuddered, chucked the helm as far as he could and skittered backwards on his aft in the water before moving quickly to his feet.

"An arena... Oh man... I'm gonna have bad back-up filing for weeks 'cause o' this." He wrung his hands for a moment before calming himself and putting a hand on his chestplate to remind him that there were more important things to worry about. He looked back over at Soundwave.

"I-I'm sorry... you were saying? About an exit?"

"This way." he offered, turning around and heading, stumbling a few times, toward the opposite side of the arena. It seemed now that pure power of central processor was keeping Soundwave going. He was still dripping energon, though most of the injuries appeared to be internal. Slogging through the fuel puddle that gradually got shallower until it faded out like the shores of a lake, Soundwave approached the wall and, though his readings were telling him there was a door here somewhere, most of the exits seemed to have been blocked by rocks and fallen debris. He scanned and began searching with his hands for weak spots.

Blaster kept a silent pace behind Soundwave, watching him walk with increasing concern. He walked around as the Decepticon came to a solid wall and rubbed the back of his helm curiously. About to say something he noticed Soundwave feeling the walls, and after a click he realized what the other must have been doing. He quickly moved forward and did the same, running nimble fingers over each crack and seam in an attempt to find anything out of place.

"How do you know there's an opening here?"

Soundwave continued to feel around the pile of stone, metal and other debris for some kind of give, some indication of a doorway.

"My scan indicated that there was a door on this wall somewhere, though i cannot be as specific to it's location as i if i were functioning at full capacity. The wall must be very thin somewhere on this wall, or the echo relay pattern would not have indicated an opening." He said, feeling, then leaning against the wall for a moment for support while he rested.

Blaster frowned as he watched Soundwave, and nodded. The wall was thinner someplace... He cocked his helm to the side and lifted a hand before pounding it against the wall. He stood still as ice as the sound vibrated against the wall, shuddering to his left. He took a few steps towards the shudder and repeated the action. Again the sound vibrated, seeming to hesitate or stutter just a few feet further. He smiled, pleased with himself, and ran up to the distortion. Just once more, to confirm his theory, he banged his hand against the thin wall and the door immediately swung open, permitting Blaster to fall on his faceplate inside the exit tunnel.

The relief that flooded Soundwave as the doorway was finally located was not evident on his faceplate, but in the hot breath he exhaled, as if he'd been holding it in, was indication enough. He moved as quickly as he could to the doorway and looked through, into the darkness, picking Blaster up by a shoulder piece and helping him to his feet awkwardly. He flared his optics to provide a little light. His assumptions were correct from the vibrations he'd felt. behind the now-open door, there was a stairway up. It looked as if this place was built low to begin with in either a natural, or man made valley of some kind. Soundwave stumbled into the passageway and began to ascend the cluttered stairway, leaning heavily on the wall to his right.

Blaster smiled a little and started up the stairs at a brisk pace, eventually slowing until he walked side by side with Soundwave. He marveled at the detail in the structure, reaching out to touch the wall. He recoiled almost instantly as he remembered what it was they had stumbled into. He looked back up at Soundwave and took a step closer to him.

"Are you ... functioning alright?"

Soundwaves found that he could not, or did not wish to lie to this autobot and he was not sure why. He supposed it was because there was really no point.

"I am functioning at less than half capacity." he said calmly, practically pressing his upper half to the wall to hold himself up. His legs felt quite weak and he was sure that little bout of activity, walking by himself for that length of time, he'd pushed himself too far in this state.

"I will continue to function, i must find my casseticons..." he said, almost more to himself than anything. It was as if he were willing himself to go on.

Blaster felt a small pang as he listened to the Decepticon, and he moved up beside him as he finished speaking. He grabbed Soundwave's arm and pulled it over his shoulders as he again took hold of the Decepticon's side. He hoisted him up enough to bare weight down onto Blaster instead of the wall and smiled.

"Alright, we cand do that. Gotta getchu to the top of the stairs... then we'll go from there." He nodded, encouraged onwards as he looked up the stairs to find there was another source of light beaming down towards them to illuminate the way. They were almost out. Then - then he just had to find two little Decepticon cassetticons....

Soundwave attempted to pull away, but only slightly. Blaster was right in thinking that traveling this way would be quickly than Soundwave trying to support his own battered body by himself. He saw the light and, only a few nanoseconds later they were out into the open. Soundwave could feel the dry winds of Cybertron and knew, without a doubt that they were above ground now. he couldn't say that he missed it, but the dark underground did seem to become more and more disconcerting and disorienting the longer they stayed there. As they emerged, something nearby made Soundwave stop and cock his head slightly. He knew something was amiss, but his physical state was starting to effect his processor and he found it hard to lock on to what he felt...but whatever it was it was very close....

Blaster quickly flipped down his visor as they stepped into the Cybertronian daylight. He waited until his optics recalibrated before taking a quick look around.

"Man, I don't have a clue where we are. Non'a this looks familliar." He shook his head and looked up/over at Soundwave. "What about you? You recognize-" He paused as he noticed the tilt of the Decepticon's helm. "Hey, Soundwave, you in there?"

Soundwave did not say anything for a moment longer, listening. Nothing. But something was still...odd. Why couldn't he latch onto it? He shook his head, thoughts fuzzy and unclear.

Just as he turned to reply to Blaster, the sound of twin shouts sounded somewhere behind them. They were small, high pitched and sounded a little weak in volume. But what they lacked in volume, they made up for in spirit! The two little forms ambushed Blaster from behind and to the side and, as much as they were capable, attempted to tackle him, though they only really reached part of his legs even with a jump.

Blaster let out a surprised shout and danced away from Soundwave, kicking out his leg in an attempt to dislodge the attackers - when he glanced down. His optics grew wide and he held his leg suspended. He turned to look over his pauldren at Soundwave.

"Call 'em off man! They're gonna bust m'circuits if they keep bitin' me."

Soundwave fell backwards as Blaster left his side and landed squarely on his aft. It took a moment for him to understand what had just happened, but when he realized what was going on, his core thrummed loud. So loud he could swear Blaster even heard it and his spark practically lit up his chest, dark blue light seeping from every crack in his armor.

"Rumble, Frenzy." he called, eyes glowing brightly. Frenzy was the first to dislodge himself from Blaster and practically tripped over himself running to greet Soundwave. He did not say anything but dove into a helpless cling that Soundwave was not sure he'd be able to get him to detach from.

Rumble was not long after Frenzy, forgetting his target completely to clutch Soundwave protectively.

Blaster placed his foot back on the ground and smiled for a moment, looking away. He placed a hand on his chest and felt a small swell of longing for the day when Eject would be healthy enough, strong enough to enjoy the world with him from the outside. He looked back over his shoulder at Soundwave and cleared his exhaust.

"Why don't you come back with me to HQ, Soundwave? We can getchu patched up in no time."

Soundwave allowed the two casseticons to simply hold onto him for the moment. He looked up at Blaster for a long moment. It was certainly true, he'd shared something with the autobot, but he knew his place. Megatron needed him. He would fight for him. He could never be an autobot.

"No Blaster. I will return to my base, and you will go to yours." he stated without much hesitation in a voice that clearly shown that no argument was necessary (his normal voice). He stood up carefully and picked up Rumble, then Frenzy, choosing to hold them for the moment rather than recall them. It was clear that even the stoic Soundwave could not deny the joy at this reunion. He turned, his casseticons in his arms.

"Take care of him autobot." was all he said in parting.

Blaster frowned as he watched Soundwave walk away. He started after him and paused, hand in the air as he prepared to give the Decepticon a long-winded speech... Who was he kidding? He put his hands on his hips and continued watching until he coud no longer see the Decepticon. Decepticons were Decepticons and Autobots were Autobots... Split Spark or not, he and Soundwave had different motives. He sighed and transformed swiftly, peeling out into the street nearby... now if he could just figure out where in sigma he was!

Seeking That Which Cannot Be Sought

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:55:13 GMT

A poll fic. That's about it. Pointless sticky sex/rape/violence.

The crash only served to further aggravate Hook, and the snippy Constructicon illustrated this by crossing his arms firmly over his chest plate and turning to glare at the angry Combaticon accompanying his med-bay with him at the present.

“Knocking over my equipment won’t get you the answers you’re looking for, imbecile. And even if I did know how to help you - knocking over my equipment would certainly put a damper on our arrangement!”

“Don’t give me that hoity toity talk, medic!” Vortex spat back, his optic visor narrowed viciously from over the mask which covered the rest of his faceplate.

“Hoity toity!?” Hook bellowed, stepping forward to shove a pointed finger into the darker Decepticon’s chest plate. “You forget who it is you’re talking with, Vortex - and I am certainly not ‘hoity toity’.”

Vortex snarled and wrapped his hand, vice-like, around the wrist of Hook’s outstretched finger. He was rewarded with a soft snarl of warning from the other ‘con.

“Release me you micro-malfunctioning piece of shrapnel scrap, before I get serious.” Hook hissed, pulling back on his arm, but the Combaticon held fast.

“I am serious.” Vortex growled, stepping closer to Hook and forcing the only slightly smaller Decepticon to back into the table behind him. “You better join the party.”

Hook narrowed his optic scope at the threat - clear as day. He reached up and snapped his hand around the wrist of Vortex’s hand that was holding his other wrist. He squeezed hard and was rewarded with the slight groan of warping metal.

“If you try anything you small-minded display of indecency, Devastator will stomp you into the ground.”

“Devastator is no match for Bruticus, old model.”

“Old model? Old model!” Hook shrieked, bending backwards to kick at Vortex’s broad chest. The Combaticon simply flickered his optics at his attempt.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I’m... I’m gonna make you tell me!” Vortex continued, leaning forward. Hook swallowed a small hiss as the awkward position put strain on his weary back-plates.

“You can’t make me give you information I don’t have, you irredeemably revolting degenerate.” Hook’s vicious snip was cut short by the click of Vortex’s mask slipping off and clanking to the floor. The wary Constructicon watched the object settle before looking up into his opponent’s visible face.

“No use lying to me, Hook. I know you know how.”

“And I’ve been trying to tell you, Vortex, that I don’t!” Hook released Vortex’s arm, though his own wrist was still tightly enveloped in the Combaticon’s grip. He pointed indifferently towards his own spark, then to Vortex’s.

“It’s embedded into you; it’s not something I can - create! It’s like a correl: you’re created with it, it’s not given to you!” His voice slowed as Vortex tightened his grip on the medic’s wrist. Hook held in a snarl; he was not in the mood to make repairs on himself. He wasn’t in the mood to make repairs on anybody, in all truth - he was looking forward to a relaxing day without Megatron huffing down his pauldrens about progress on his new ‘recruit’. Vortex appeared to have other plans.

“Realizing your mistake, peon?” Hook prodded unwisely.

Vortex felt that familiar ringing in the back of his helm which signaled he was about an arms’ length away from over-drive and this time his fellow Combaticons weren’t around to stop him. He was going to rip and rend Hook apart - becoming less and less enthralled with the idea of getting the information he’d been seeking, and more and more aroused by the idea of bending Hook to his will. He was easy to outrage, the Constructicon beta, but to really get under his plating and ruffle him? The prospect of making the usually composed and snippy medic scream and beg made Vortex’s core suddenly thrum loud enough to drown out the beeping and whining of scattered electronic equipment.

Hook did not like the strange and almost hungry look which began to cross Vortex’s exposed faceplate, and the loud thrumming of the other mech’s core was only adding to his discomfort. He slowly slid on hand around on the table behind him, searching and feeling blindly for any instrument that might prove useful, while attempting to wretch his wrist out of the Combaticon’s grip.

“Release me, Vortex.” He growled warningly. ~Do not make me call the other Constructicons.~

~What’s the matter, medic?~ Vortex growled threateningly, lunging forward until he thrust Hook back onto the table completely. He grinned viciously as the back of Hook’s helm hit the wall as his feet were lifted from the floor. The table was proving quite sturdy.

~Can’t take me on your own?~

~Of course I can’t!~ Hook snarled, rubbing at the back of his helm as his wrist was released. Pulling as much of an indignant look onto his faceplate as he could under the circumstances, he crossed his arms over his chest plate and narrowed his optics in on Vortex. ~I was built for my central processor’s capacity for perfection, not for my chassis’ ability to dish out and withstand brute force you fiendish ruffian.~

~Better for me then.~ Vortex snarled, and he reveled in seeing the look of horror which momentarily crossed the medic’s face.

Hook was not stupid; not in the least, and at the sake of ruining his reputation, he decided that calling out for help would be the best choice of action, no matter what the torment he would receive for squealing in such a way. Vortex was on to him, however, and it was soon apparent that the Combaticon did not intend to be interrupted.

Hook had nowhere to retreat as Vortex brought his fist down viciously upon the side of his helm. He bent quickly to one side, gasping and shouting in pain as he reached up to deflect the second blow, but his arm was pushed easily aside. The second hit sent Hook’s conscious thoughts reeling, his equilibrium gauge shaken and unable to process the blows. Hook tried to focus his optics and reached out for the desk next to him in a pathetic attempt for a retreat, only to feel the weight of Vortex’s blunt fist connect with the back of his neck. His equilibrium gauge shattered into thousands of tiny shards and the liquid held within dripped disgustingly through the inner circuitry on his neck. Hook was now utterly helpless - unable to comm for help and far beyond being able to comprehend up from down.

Vortex panted lightly and stepped back as Hook rolled bodily off the table and hit the floor with a loud thud. He looked like a human fetus, writhing back and forth in complete and utter discombobulation. The Combaticon laughed and lifted a foot into the air, watching his prey for a moment before bringing his heel down against Hook’s hip and knocking him to his back. He watched the medic power down his optics, coughing and gagging on the fluid from his ruptured gauge as it rose to his mouth. The liquid looked white outlined against Hook’s dark gray face, slipping from the corners of his lips back into his helm. The Combaticon laughed once, derisively, and then dropped to his knees to straddle the downed Constructicon.

“Devastator can’t help you now.” He laughed, optics flaring wildly.

Hook’s pain was only marginally dulled by the intense, shrieking alarms blaring in the back of his helm. In any other situation he would have shouted back at them, as he was fully aware of the dire damages he’d just sustained. However his central processor was so wrapped up in the immense pressure on his hips, he couldn’t do anything but think on how much he hurt. He’d heard rumors about Vortex’s exceptionally Megatron-like sadistic streak, but he’d never assumed he would be on the receiving end of such senseless violence. He longed to reach out and shove the fiery Combaticon off, for logic told him that Vortex was the pressure, but with his equilibrium gauge gone his rationale chip was losing its hold on reality, and he was numb to most of his chassis.

Vortex laughed again, well aware that he sounded glitched, as he watched Hook writhe beneath him. He was fairly certain that he’d completely destroyed the medic’s gauge, which meant that any signal he attempted to send to his limbs (no matter how small a twitch) would be instantly encrypted - completely unrecognizable. Vortex was quite sure that by flailing his arms over his head, Hook had been attempting to shove him off. He shoved his legs between Hook’s and jammed his knee into the Constructicon’s lower panel.

Hook was simultaneously relieved and humiliated to discover that at least his lower jaw still functioned normally - for his mouth fell open in a cry of shock and pain as a hard something smashed into his lower panel. He gasped and fought to keep his optics powered down, knowing visual aid would only add insult to injury, but with all the mixed signals flowing through his mainframe he was fighting a losing battle. His optics flared into life and he moaned deeply as he felt his stomach chamber churn. His frazzled central processor couldn’t handle the new data and he was rewarded with brief snatches of a fractured world. He felt the pressure on his lower panel increase - and then unimaginable pain as something blunt (presumably Vortex’s fist) came crashing down onto it’s center, easily popping open one side as the usually hidden panel warped outward. He let out another fem-worthy scream as the whole panel cover was ripped off and tossed aside.

Vortex smiled evilly at the vulnerable valve, his own panel wide open and ready thanks to the vicious assault he’d already landed upon Hook. He pulled his hands away from the shattered panel and slammed them into Hook’s pauldrens, eliciting a squeal of pain and confusion from the medic. This was enough to pop the Combaticon’s piece, despite having not yet begun lubricating. He leaned forward until his faceplate loomed above Hook’s - and he waited until the pain-dimmed optics found him.

“If you won’t give me that information, I’m going to take it!” He watched as Hook calmed himself enough to vocalize, fluid leaking from his mouth and splattering onto Vortex’s faceplate as the medic spoke.

“You c-can try but you w-won’t find an-nything you s-sadistically simp-plistic factory r-reject.” Hook watched, vaguely satisfied as he was able to recognize a sneer of disapproval on his opponent’s faceplate. He did not have long to revel in victory, for Vortex decided to penetrate the medic in retribution. Hook could not scream - in fact he found he could not make any sound. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before; next to this the blunt blows he’d been previously subjected to felt like a playful shove. Vortex’s piece was viciously cold, so cold that it burned the walls of Hook’s valve. Without lubrication the interlocking plates that made up Vortex’s piece tore along the sensitive walls and left leaking lacerations in its wake. Hook moaned, at long last, in pain.

Truth be told Vortex wasn’t enjoying himself much more than his victim: He enjoyed causing pain to others not himself. Bonding without lubrication was unpleasant for both parties. He felt Hook’s chassis shake and quiver beneath him, over-stimulated in the most negative way possible. It was not usually lust which drove him (he mostly tended to follow the urge to cause pain to others rather than to slate his own thirst for mating - though they often went hand in hand) but in order to access Hook’s spark he would need to at least pretend to go through the motions. He could have easily ripped into Hook’s chest plate to expose the spark (and he would probably still do so once the time was right) but he’d learned the hard way that one could not simply merge into another’s spark and gain knowledge without foreplay, as it was. The spark had to be fooled into starting its bonding program. He would have to grind his gears and bear it for now.

Hook wanted to scream. He had never before felt the urge to strain his vocal components until he overheated from exhaustion until that moment. He could feel his body writhing and twitching as it attempted, in vain, to obey his command. His rationale chip was so fried at the moment that he could barely think; he could barely function. He could have been up-side down and in the air for all he knew. He could think of nothing - his central processor knew only agony. His optics began to flicker white and his core began a low wailing.

Vortex was not a patient ‘con, which did not often work in his favor. He could only continue his thrusting for so long before he slammed his fist into Hook’s chest plate. The medic’s body arched purely out of instinct beneath him, but it only made him more eager. He did it again and when he pulled his fist away from the new crater, energon began to pool in the center, gushing profusely from the tiny cracks he’d created. He reached out and thrust the fingers of one hand into the fissures and began to pry the armor apart. Hook’s plaintive cries were all but drowned out by the sound of boiling energon in his audios as the Constructicon’s chest plate ripped off into his hands.

Hook’s body had been preparing for a painful automatic shut-down, but the sequence was put to an abrupt halt as his spark was gruesomely exposed. He fell still as stone, not even permitting himself to breathe as he felt cold air whip around his being. He did not enjoy being forced into bonding, (however much an understatement that was) but this was a new level of low. Vortex was going to be terminated for this humiliation! He would see to it personally - he would crush the Combaticon’s spark in his own hand like a flesh-creature’s head. If, his central processor warned grimly, he survived. Rape was, unfortunately for most, a seemingly favored past time of the unruly Decepticons, but Hook had never imagined himself to be on the list for an attack. He did not consider himself madly attractive by comparison to other ‘cons, nor was he humiliatingly fem-like (such as Starscream), and his position was certainly not worth the effort - so the notion that Vortex was doing this simply because he wanted to settled uneasily into Hook’s helm as he tried to relax and prepare himself for the next assault. Vortex had him beat, physically, and there was nothing he could do except stay as sane as possible, and plan for his revenge.

Vortex leaned all his weight onto one hand, still rocking his hips forward to keep up the physical bonding, and poked at the medic’s spark with one finger like a curious child investigating a bug. The slightly gold/yellow sphere shot static around his finger, echoing Hook’s cry of pain, and the touch sent ripples through the object which signified that the bonding program had not yet begun. The Combaticon watched impatiently as the ripples swirled over the surface of the spark, curved around the back and slowly began to dissolve. Hissing out a low curse he re-adjusted his weight to both elbows and thrust his faceplate at Hook’s until he met the Constructicon’s lips with a rough and vengeful kiss. He snapped up his right hand to hold the battered helm in place as Hook tried to move away, and he used the distraction to plunge his glossa deep into the medic’s mouth.

Hook could hear nothing but the alarms in the back of his helm, warning him that he was damaged and his spark was exposed - never a good combination. He thought bitterly at the alarms that if he could do something about his present situation, he would, but he couldn’t. He tried not to gag on Vortex’s vicious glossa, exploring his mouth like unexplored territory, and fought back the urge to bite down. As much as he would have loved to do so, knowing it would catch the other completely off-guard, he knew he wouldn’t be able to recover in time to escape during the distraction, and he was just sure enough of Vortex’s glitched processor to be sure that the Combaticon would terminate him for such an attack. His chassis was becoming blissfully numb to the pain in his lower panel as his mainframe began to quicken towards his spark - a self defense mechanism on two sides: first it would draw energon away from his lower panel and thus leave the extremities numb, and second because all he had was now protecting all that he was. His blissful numbness did not last long, however, for Vortex poked at his spark once more, and the diffused, interrupted flow of energon went spiraling back towards his valve. His back arched of its own violation and he gasped in shock.

That was the response he’d been looking for! Vortex cracked his faceplate into a grin as he pulled away from the kiss to witness Hook’s spark wrap eager tendrils around his finger as he poked at it a second time. He snapped his finger away from the curious tentacles, sneering in delight at the sound Hook made in response - a completely involuntary moan of longing. He reared up onto his haunches, momentarily breaking contact with Hook’s lower panel, and touched his chestplate eagerly, gently pushing aside the armor until his own spark, a dark gray/blue in color, revealed itself to the otherwise unoccupied med-bay. He heard the medic whimper something like a word and he paused, looking down curiously with a smirk lopsided on his faceplate.

“What was that, medic?”

‘Don’t.’ Hook mouthed, unable to convince his vocal components it was a good idea to make noise. Vortex laughed and leaned close, their sparks close enough to thrum to each other - seeming unaware of the unpleasant circumstances of their meeting.

“Why not? You scared, Constructicon?”

It appeared for a moment as if Hook’s vocal components would come online enough for him to spew an insult, but again Vortex illustrated he was in control by penetrating the still dry valve of the medic once again. Hook’s back arched so high that his spark’s tendrils began to lick at the Combaticon’s, eager to join. Hook had never been so furious with his own primary functions. Could the thing that was, essentially, him not sense how bad things were at the moment? Could his spark not pick up on his unwillingness? His fear and pain? He ground his gears and tried to think of something else, but it was useless. He could hear Vortex shifting above him until the Combaticon had them correctly aligned, and then he began the merging.

Vortex was not fond of spark bonding - the merging process made him anxious and the whole thing in general just made things too complicated, but he couldn’t deny, no matter how hard he tried, that the feeling of forcing his spark into someone else’s was the most amazing feeling in the world, especially when he didn’t have to wait for the bonding program, when he could attack as brutally as he wanted to deep in his core. This merging was proving to be one of his favorites however, as the moment the two sparks touched surfaces he was flooded with a raging indignation from the medic, and a sense of overwhelming helplessness. He was so angry - so frustrated! It was spectacular! Every inch of his chassis, of his mainframe, wanted to pull away and completely obliterate Vortex for such an atrocity, but deep down he knew he was no match for the Combaticon, so he was forced to endure!

Hook was not surprised by the emotions he registered waving forth from the Combaticon - glee, superiority, arousal; and was only slightly more put-off when he realized the latter of which had been initiated simply by the thought of ‘bending Hook’ to the Combaticon’s will. He hissed back a strange tingle of painful pleasure as the sparks drew closer together, but smirked through the pain this time. He had a feeling the sadistic Combaticon had forgotten about the bond comm, and he planned to use it to the fullest extent. He powered down his optics, now able to focus on them as his raging central processor calmed into focusing on the bonding, and he found each individual source of pain and made a mental list; his valve, his lower panel, his chest plate, his helm, his spark. Compiling this list he focused on the presence of Vortex within him and fired forth through their new connection, intent on making the Combaticon understand exactly what he was putting Hook through.

Vortex reared backwards, gripping at his helm as if it was the source of the pain. He thrashed his helm back and forth with cries almost too beast-like to belong to a ‘con, the blades on his back spinning wildly in pain and confusion. His spark retreated quickly from Hook’s and snapped back into it’s chamber, pulling his chest plate closed like a frightened human child, pulling the blankets over their head to hide from a nightmare. Electricity licked at the seams on his chest piece, tell-tale signs of a bonding interrupted by a less than pleasant catalyst. The pain was even so much, so shocking to him (as none of his previous victims had tried such tactics) that his piece snapped back into place and his lower panel shut itself off. His vents closed, his optics powered up and his sensors powered down - his chassis was protecting itself, going into a near system lock down in order to do so.

Hook’s swell of triumph was quickly over-shadowed and replaced by a mainframe numbing fear. He had not expected Vortex to react so strongly, and even though it had been good to force upon the Combaticon all the pain he’d caused Hook - he was now unable to continue his rape, and Hook was still at his mercy. Unable to achieve his desired victory, it was increasingly likely that Vortex would beat Hook into termination, and there was nothing Hook could do to stop it. He felt his spark chamber burning as his core nearly over-heated in continued fruitless attempts to pull closed his chest plate and cover the sacred object, and his vents opened full flush to stop further damages from manifesting themselves. Hook felt Vortex stiffen and powered up his optics to watch the Combaticon lower his hands. The medic froze - unable to even suck in a breath as Vortex met his optics.

Vortex tensed his whole body so hard he was on the verge of snapping tension cables, but he was so completely beyond infuriated he didn’t care. He wanted to rip and break Hook into pieces so small not even a Minicon would recognize him for what he had been. He lifted his hand to deliver a blow to the still exposed spark chamber before him-

“Hook? Are you in there? Slag- it’s so scrappin’ dark...” A voice, muffled behind the metal of a mask, drifted in through the med-bay doors around the curve of Vector Sigma in the center of the room. “Megatron’s been summoning you for hours!”

Vortex let out a hiss and leaned close to Hook, breath snaking across the Constructicon’s faceplate.

“This isn’t over, Hook!” He snarled, and then swung himself off the medic. He clambered quickly to his feet and ran out through the only other entrance/exit to the med-bay, stooping to pick up his discarded mask on the way.

“Hook? Is that you?” Scrapper continued, turning the corner and frowning at the sight of a few over-turned tables, general disarray. “You know, I’m less than pleased with your lack of response... And why in Primus’s name do you have your comm channel off line?!”

Hook struggled to sit up, not a task he accomplished, and flashed his optics. The red pulse from the floor easily caught Scrapper’s attention and he stepped to the side and peered at the floor from around a large examination table. His optic scope flared wide as he darted forward with an uncharacteristic show of concern and helped Hook sit up.

“What in Vector Sigma happened?!” Scrapper hissed, scanning the medic quickly.

“V-v-v-vortex.” Hook muttered, narrowing his optics. He hated sounding weak, and stuttering like that he sounded like a fool as well.

“Vortex - the Combaticon?”

“The s-s-s-same.” Hook sighed and in spite wanting to sit on his own, in spite of the damage it would do to his ego; he collapsed into Scrapper’s hands and tilted his helm towards the other Constructicon’s chest plate.

“Why?” Scrapper barked, but concern was, oddly enough, in the forefront of his central processor - anger could come later.

“He w-w-w-wanted information I d-d-d-d-didn’t have. He d-d-d-decided to try and t-t-t-take it by force.”

“Scrap.”

“He d-d-d-destroyed my equilibrium gauge,” Hook coughed, splattering Scrapper’s chest plate with fluid (the other Constructicon seemed not to mind.) “I’m going to h-h-h-have to walk you through r-r-r-repairs...”

Transformers Armada Lesson

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:36:08 GMT

Swindle, Starscream's minicon, has a bit of a problem... and Starscream can think of only one way to help his companion out.

WARNING: Explicit Sex/Masturbation

“- and then Swindle said: ‘Because Swindle is the best, most powerful Mini-con in the universe!”

Starscream tossed back his helm and gave in to deep-chested laughter. His partner, the red Mini-con called Swindle, sat on his shoulder, his tiny body pressed into the large vents on the Seeker’s back. Starscream narrowed his optics softly and opened his mouth to reply when:

“Hey, Starscream!”

The red duo, who secretly called themselves superior to the wishy-washy, soft-sparked Autobots, turned to gaze in the direction of the shout. Smokescreen and Hotshot were bent over a large and battered looking piece of equipment, with the Mini-con Sparkplug between them. Starscream halted and balled his hands into fists, for he was in no mood to listen to their drivel.

“What!?” Starscream shouted, his voice breaking in the middle just as expected. The Mini-con on his shoulder echoed the demand by standing and placing his hands on his hips.

“We saw Skyfire leaving your quarters early this morning,” Smokescreen instigated, narrowing his optics in suspicion.

“Are you guys updating each other’s warranties or what?” Hotshot finished, sending the trio into bouts of laughter which forced them to double over.

“That’s-” Starscream began, feeling the energon heat up behind his face-plate, giving his cheeks a soft glow and making his optics flare almost violet. “That’s none of your business, Auto-brats!” The heat behind his faceplate only worsened when Hotshot declared ‘It’s true!’ and the laughter rose in pitch and continued.

Swindle would stand for no more of this mockery of Starscream! Bracing himself as the Seeker’s vents began to heat-up, vibrate and hum with emotion; the Mini-con lifted both arms in a crude gesture.

“Keep it up and Swindle will void all of your warranties!” He declared. “No updates necessary! Lo~ow main-ten-ence!”

Not to be out-done by the fiery Swindle, Sparkplug turned around and gave his own crude gesture - this one involving one hand and his aft. He then beeped a roughly translated version of: ‘Come and get it!’

Starscream started forward, intent on teaching them all a lesson, when his audios registered the softest ‘click’ and ‘swoosh’ of metal plates from his shoulder. He turned to look and caught the tilt of Swindle’s helm as the Mini-con peered down at himself, utterly bewildered. Following his gaze Starscream saw the origin of the sound and his faceplate lit up in embarrassment as he quickly looked in the other direction. A panel so low on Swindle’s body it was practically between his legs, had slid open to reveal a set of colorful, interlocking cords and wires. In the center of this puzzle-like panel there was a small opening encased in soft, pliable cods, and just above this a tiny and almost fleshy protrusion. The whole panel was pulsing with a lightish red (though not quite pink) glow, which was also slightly visible from between the cracks in Swindle’s armor.

“We’re leaving!” Starscream bellowed, well aware that the laughing trio had not heard him.

“Swindle feels... strange , Starscream.” The Mini-con beeped worriedly. He relaxed a little as Starscream reached up and took him gently into his large hand.

“I know. Give me a minute, I’ll find you someplace ... private .”

“What for?” Beeped the confused con.

“Slag!” Hissed Starscream as he carefully transformed and took off.

~*~

“Alright Swindle,” Starscream said in a half-playful, half-commanding voice, “mind telling me what happened back there?” He finished, now with a smirk on his faceplate. He was curious (now that the initial shock of seeing his Mini-con partner sexually aroused had passed) and wanted to know exactly what (or Primus forbid, who ) had elicited such a response from Swindle.

He’d flown them a good distance away from the Autobot base, seeking privacy he knew he’d never get under the suspicious optics of his once enemies. He’d landed in a large, somewhat deep (yet narrow) ravine and was now seated in a U shape between the walls. It was a tight fit, but it was strangely comfortable at the same time. He rested his left elbow on a small nook in the wall and then placed his chin against its fist. The Mini-con being questioned stood in the palm of his right hand. Optic-level with the Seeker, the Mini-con shrugged.

“If Swindle knew, Swindle would tell you.” He beeped, confused and now just slightly apprehensive.

“Your panel opened.” Starscream offered, sounding eager for gossip. The Mini-con looked down and touched the now-closed panel gently.

“Yes.” Swindle said, still confused. “It has never done that before...”

“Wha-what!?” Starscream yipped, starting so suddenly he threw the Mini-con off balance, sending him to his aft in the Seeker’s palm.

“Is Swindle malfunctioning ?” The bot beeped, slow and worried.

“No. You’re not malfunctioning.” Starscream said, regaining his composure. He narrowed his optics slightly. “You’ve really never had that happen before?” Swindle shook his head. “Even back on Cybertron?”

“Swindle was not active on Cybertron.”

“Explain.” Starscream cocked his head far to one side.

“Not all Mini-cons were activated on Cybertron; some of us were dormant the whole time. We were supposed to be activated, but the other Mini-cons decided to leave before that could happen. Then we boom-crashed on this planet. Swindle was activated for the very first time by Starscream! Those Mini-cons who left Cybertron before they were ever activated have to scan a Cybertronian partner before they can go online. Mini-cons who were active on Cybertron don’t have to.”

Starscream gaped for a long while before forcing a smirk through. He poked Swindle gently in the chest with his pinky finger. The Mini-con cocked his helm to the side.

“That’s good to know.”

“Now it’s Starscream’s turn to explain!” The excited Mini-con declared as he grabbed the Seeker’s finger.

“Mmm?” Starscream hummed.

“Why did Swindle’s panel open?” The Mini-con watched as the large Cybertronian made a series of faces Swindle was sure he would never see again. Once Starscream settled on an expression his faceplate lit up with hot energon. He rubbed at his temples for a moment before letting out a sigh and turning off his optics for a nano-second.

“Are you serious, Swindle? You don’t know ... why it opened?” The Seeker groaned as Swindle shook his head, unaware of how uncomfortable he’d made his partner. Starscream looked up towards the darkening sky above.

“Well... I, uh, don’t know what exactly made it open, bu-but it opens when you, um, want to... bond.”

“Bond?”

“Mate! Make love! Have sex!” Starscream yipped, faceplate almost completely maroon with hot energon. The small Swindle looked confused for a nano-second more before, at last, giving a soft nod to show he understood.

“But Starscream,” he piped up quietly, “Swindle was not thinking about bonding, not even close.” The Mini-con bobbed slightly as Starscream shrugged.

“Sometimes your body is even when you aren’t.” He offered, looking thoughtful for a moment. “There are probably just certain things that you like that your body relates to bonding.”

“Swindle does not like the idea of not being in control of Swindle’s own body.” The bot beeped, placing his hands on his chest-plate in worry.

“Me either.” Starscream mumbled.

“Teach Swindle how to stop this from happening, Starscream!”

“I can’t do that, Swindle. It’s next to impossible to stop it, it’s a reaction linked almost directly to your primary functions. You can’t really turn it off or stop it.”

“Oh,” Swindle whimpered, defeated, “then... Swindle just has to wait for it to close? It took a very long time to do that... and Swindle couldn’t think about anything else while it was open.”

“Well you don’t have to wait for it to close on its own, you can fix it.”

“Fix it? So it is a malfunction?”

“No! It - arrg...” Starscream covered his faceplate with a hand and momentarily turned off his optics. Did all Cybertronians have this ‘talk’ with their Mini-cons? It made him feel like a father, which turned his chassis cold and made him feel queasy. Firing up his optics he saw Swindle looking at him patiently. The Seeker sighed deeply.

“You can... Kind of.. trick it into thinking you’re bonding.” He offered.

“How?” The Mini-con responded.

Starscream grumbled and looked away, feeling his spark fare up at the question. Something then occurred to him and he paused for a moment. Was that a natural thought to have? Is that how fathers explained it? How had it been explained to him? Was it wrong to think such a thing? Was it normal? He tilted his helm to the side upon realizing it probably didn’t matter anyway. If it was perverted well, it was fitting, wasn’t it? Starscream, by no choice of his own, had been subjected to all kinds of perversions. It was only natural that it was the first solution that came to mind. No-one would ever know, and even if they did find out... So what? Starscream would just strut past; they weren’t strong enough to survive what he’d been through in four million years. He might be perverted but he was also vastly superior.

“It would be easiest for me to just show you, Swindle.”

“Show Swindle?” The Mini-con asked, a little apprehensively as Starscream lifted him up so that he could reclaim his seat inside the Seeker’s vents.

“Just, sit and watch.” Starscream almost growled, feeling cords and wires low in his midsection begin to twist and knot. He leaned back further against the ravine as he felt the Mini-con shift until he was comfortable in the large vent. Starscream reached up and rubbed his helm with his right hand, leaving the other laying lazily on his cockpit. In order for this to work properly he would have to try and forget he was being watched. He shut his optics off-line and let his right arm hang lazily, propped up slightly against a small rock.

Swindle was about to speak up and ask what was going on when Starscream’s vents began to hum and vibrate. This confused the Mini-con a great deal, for he knew the vents only reacted like that when Starscream was highly emotional. He straightened up and leaned out of the vent, peering over at his partner’s faceplate in confusion. What he saw did not answer his questions, however. Starscream’s optics were completely off-line; his helm was tilted back slightly and his mouth was parted just the smallest bit. This corners of his lips twitched downward slightly and the screens over his optics quivered inwardly, giving him an almost pained expression. The Mini-con frowned and reached out to touch his partner’s helm, but froze as his audios were jostled by the sound of Starscream’s panel clicking open.

Though feeling slightly embarrassed, Swindle knew Starscream was only showing him how to ... Fix his panel problem, so he looked carefully. Starscream’s panel was just as similar to Swindle’s as it was different. It looked fundamentally the same, but the pieces weren’t locked as tight, they shook and vibrated against each other and most of them were scratched and dented. The wires along the small opening were all patched up and some of them looked like they had been completely replaced; they were different colors and textures than the others. The glow that pulsed inside the panel was a deep maroon and pulsed hesitantly, without rhythm. Swindle sat back down slowly as Starscream’s vocals whimpered softly.

... and Skyfire’s hands, Primus he had big hands. I could practically feel them on my cockpit... exploring. He was a scientist through and through, even when it came to bonding. He seemed to enjoy nothing more than finding new places to exploit... But I felt comfortable around him, even now after all this time, after all I’d been through. Last night... mmmm... He practically hummed with excitement, vibrating and, heh, moaning... I missed feeling like I was participating...

Swindle made a barely audible beep as Starscream balled his right hand into a fist, the left falling to brush his panel. The Mini-con craned his neck a little, feeling his energon heat up, his panel almost... itch? No, that wasn’t the right word. It ached and Swindle recognized the strange urge, so he wasn’t the least bit startled or confused when his panel moved aside. He looked at it for a moment, energon growing warmer still, then turned his attention back to Starscream for further instruction.

The large Cybertronian had splayed three fingers over his opening, his thumb and forefinger had wrapped in a circle around the base of his protrusion. Tilting his helm back further and parting his lips enough to let out a deep gasp, Starscream squeezed tighter around the base of his piece. He bent in his fingers softly and began prodding at the pliable walls of his hole, wincing every now and again.

... and Skyfire’s lips were on my throat, biting playfully at the soft and sensitive wires. He had a hand on my waist and one stroking my wings. His weight felt good, comforting; but he was holding back, going easy on me. Partly I was relieved because I wanted nothing more than to connect with Skyfire like I used to... and I feared if he’d given me his all from the start that I’d have lost it. He’d rubbed his panel against mine, and I’d quivered... moaned...

Swindle jumped slightly as Starscream let out a deep moan, tilting his helm to the side and biting down on his bottom lip. The Mini-con powered down his optics just slightly, giving him a hazed gray view of the world as he began working his fingers around his panel like Starscream was doing. The nano-second he made contact with the area his knees buckled and he nearly collapsed inside his partner’s vent. He managed to catch himself, not wanting to jolt Starscream out of his ‘trance’, and eased down into a kneeling position. He paused for another nano-second more before returning his hand to the panel. He was almost prepared for the sensation, but it still shocked his systems. He worked a small finger around the opening of his hole, surprised at how warm and lubricated it was. He began to hum with pleasure, vibrating against Starscream’s vent.

Starscream made another small noise as he gave up on his piece and thrust the whole of his forefinger into his opening. Hot breath caught in his throat and he arched far enough to put space between his wings and the ravine. He let out a long groan, then hissed in a long, cool breath.

He was huge, no, gigantic... everywhere. When we had first bonded I had been scared, apprehensive, upon witnessing his size. Not wanting to hurt me any more than I wanted to be hurt, we’d taken things nice and slow. Last night I’d been more than ready, maybe because I knew I could take it, or maybe because of what I’d been subjected to, in any case... It had been amazing. The feeling of him so completely inside me after so long... Indescribable.

Swindle made a cooing noise that sounded almost more like a human had made it than a Mini-con as he continued to mimic Starscream’s actions. He couldn’t have been prepared for the feeling of something so deep inside his panel. He beeped softly as he prodded at the warm wires now tight around his finger. He squirmed in his position, further adding to the friction in his low panel. He felt his lower wires (not the ones currently wrapped around his finger) tighten and heat up. He felt suddenly anxious, and a strange urge began to boil inside him - though an urge to do what he wasn’t sure.

Starscream pressed in another finger and began to slowly scissor them between the wires. He lifted his other hand to his faceplate and bit down hard on the knuckles of his first and second fingers. He could feel the pressure building up just behind the interlocking pieces of his panel. He despised pushing himself into overload...

His optics had been offline pretty much since he’d penetrated me, but I kept mine online. I watched the expressions on his faceplate as he attempted (with no success) to find and hold a rhythm. His mouth worked as if he was trying to say something, but all he’d done was moan and hiss in pleasure... He was so warm I could see steam rising between us...

Swindle arched his back and stretched out his legs. He almost curled into himself and brought his legs back up to his chest. He tossed back his helm and stretched out the right, holding the knee of his left tightly with his free hand. His wires felt like they were knotted up so badly he’d never untie them. The energon powering his circuits was hot and it pumped fast. His spark was pulsing frantically, making his whole body glow. His optics powered up almost on their own, only to suddenly flash white as every metal inch of the Mini-con overloaded. He made a strange sound, not unlike the discordant howl of a pack of wolves, then collapsed.

Starscream made an odd, hiccup like noise and withdrew his fingers, leaving overload unachieved. Cockpit rising and falling as he drew in cold air to cool his core, he forcibly shut the panels on his lower armor with his hand, biting back a pained cry. He let both of his arms fall limp as he turned his optics back online. Willing away the sensation of coming so close only to be left unsatisfied, he focused in on his audios. After a nano-second he was able to pick up on the sound of his exhausted partner, part-way through a painless manual shutdown he’d activated after his first full-system overload.

The Seeker stood carefully, bracing himself against the ravine wall.

He felt a little better about what he’d just done as he listened to the rhythmic beeping of his Mini-con. If it was perverted, that was, sickeningly, alright with him. He’d helped Swindle in the only way he knew how, and hopefully that would be enough. Rumors and Autobots be damned.

Individual Results May Vary Part Three

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:33:48 GMT

The End.

WARNING: Yaoi, Slash, Explicit Cybertronian Sex

Devcon let out a sigh and hit the autopilot switch before leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands behind his head and muttered low under his breath, more than fed-up with the noise behind him.

“-ninni bong.” Kup prodded, his voice muffled; by what Devcon didn’t want to know.

“Bah weep...” Wreck-Gar started, pausing to moan. “Hannarg peew... Ninni! Bong!” The last two words were little more than gasps.

“Mmmm, no- not quite.” Kup purred, voice still muffled. “Bah weep...”

“B-bah w-weep...” Wreck-Gar hiccupped.

“Grannah weep...”

“Gr-rannah wee-oooh.” Wreck-Gar’s voice faded into a low moan.

“Ninni bong.”

“N-n-n-”

“Would you two knock it off already?” The bounty hunter growled. “What the slag is that nonsense anyway?” He turned and let out a low growl of defeat. Wreck-Gar was seated in Kup’s lap, straddling the old soldier whose faceplate was buried in the Junkion’s neck. Wreck-Gar had turned to fix his optics on Devcon, but Kup appeared too preoccupied.

“Universal greeting, bounty hunter,” Kup replied coolly, “it’s a peaceful way to say hello.”

“Haey.” Wreck-Gar agreed quietly.

“And you’re teaching drivel like that to him because you want him to stick out more?”

“No.” Kup sighed, finally looking at the blue bot from over Wreck-Gar’s shoulder. “I’m teaching him so he isn’t tempted to greet new-comers like this.” He smiled a little and indicated the Junkion’s current position.

“Well you sure as slag don’t seem to mind.”

“Damn right I don’t!” Kup laughed.

“Nyah nyah!” Wreck-Gar taunted before looking away. He rocked a few times in Kup’s lap and began massaging his shoulders.

~Sounds like Devcon’s jealous.~ Kup comm.ed privately to Wreck-Gar. He powered down his optics, however, and began sucking on the main full line in the Junkion’s throat.

~And tahw, exactly era we supposed ot od about it?~ Wreck-Gar comm.ed back, though his tone was playful and intrigued.

~Oh, I don’t know - I was just making an observation.~ Kup supplied, wincing as Wreck-Gar’s hands found a sore knot of wires. ~Though, you never really did get to pay him back for saving your function cycle.~

~You have a tniop ereht, my friend.~ Wreck-Gar offered, turning to watch Devcon as he stared blankly out the window. ~You have yna ideas?~

~I might...~

Devcon let out another long sigh as he watched the stars go zipping past. He didn’t understand why space travel frightened the slag out of half the galaxy. Space travel was a doorway to the unknown, and up here one was so completely at peace that everything else seemed to fall back into place. He jerked slightly as he felt a pair of hands slide around his waste, followed by a glossa on his lower armor. He refocused his optics quickly and stiffened upon seeing Wreck-Gar on his knees in front of him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Junkion?” He panted.

“Bah weep, weep grannah.” Came his nonsense reply and Wreck-Gar wiggled his optic ridges.

“He says he didn’t get to thank you properly.” Kup whispered darkly, directly into Devcon’s audios. He placed his hands on Devcon’s hips and smiled upon hearing the bounty hunter start.

“Y-yeah? Well, I don’t know if he remembers what happened last time he got close to my piece, but I sure as slag do.” Devcon growled. Unfortunately he seemed to be all noise and no shot, for even as he spoke he placed a gentle hand on Wreck-Gar’s helm and thrummed his core.

Kup smiled, for it seemed like this was going to be easier than he thought. He tightened his fingers around the bounty hunter’s hips and stepped into him, pressing himself flush to Devcon’s back. He felt the bot tense, but his attention quickly returned to Wreck-Gar at his codpiece. Chuckling hotly, Kup tilted his helm forward and began blowing through the vents on the side of Devcon’s helm.

Wreck-Gar powered down his optics and tilted his helm a bit into Devcon’s hand, the fingers of which tightened lightly in response to whatever it was Kup was doing to him. He reached forward and placed his hands on the inside of Devcon’s thighs, forcing the bounty hunter to widen his stance - which he did with only a small noise. The Junkion purred quietly through his vocals before flicking his glossa back out and proceeding to lick Devcon’s lower armor gratuitously. He leaned into the act and used the full of his tongue, not just the tip, and brushed his nose and chin against Devcon’s armor as he stroked the flat of his tongue up along the closed panel door.

Devcon could hear his internal warning system going off in the back of his helm, warning him that the two other mechs were lowering his defenses at an alarming rate, and that if he didn’t snap out of it he would soon be at their mercy. He paused for a nano-click before turning off the alarms completely. He wasn’t too worried, after all he had made Kup switch for him once already, and he knew the kid was no match for him. Not to mention the fact that they were thousands of miles from any planet on his ship and neither of them had any clue how to fly it. He was safe, for the time being, and able to completely give in and enjoy himself. He felt the condensation on his lower armor begin to cool behind Wreck-Gar’s tongue and he shuddered involuntarily.

Kup pulled his helm away for a moment to glance at Wreck-Gar before bending down a little and deciding to pay attention to the delicious seam on Devcon’s back which had yielded such brilliant results last time. He felt the bounty hunter stiffen in his hands, but he didn’t hesitate, in fact he squeezed the joints at his fingertips tighter, and pressed his glossa roughly into the top of the seam. Devcon arched back into him, his lower armor connecting noisily with Wreck-Gar’s faceplate. Kup simply smiled around his glossa and began to draw it down through the seam, slowly, attentively. The edges were jagged and sometimes sharp, but the heat that pooled out from the inner wiring just beyond made the old soldier’s core thrum loudly.

Wreck-Gar paused for only a short second to rub at his forehead, which had clanged roughly against Devcon, but he was soon back on the job, so to speak. He could feel the bounty hunter’s chassis vibrating slightly, and began to wonder exactly what it was that Kup was doing to Devcon to earn such an enthusiastic response. He began to trace his tongue along the edges of the bounty hunter’s panel, and could feel it start to loosen. He smirked inwardly. It appeared Devcon was trying to hold out, probably still a little nervous about letting the Junkion so close to such a sensitive part of himself. Wreck-Gar decided to put his central processor at ease, and began to press his tongue slowly into the creases, humming as he did so.

Devcon bit back a snarl of defeat as the Junkion just kept going. His pleasure nodes were torn between the dangerous licks to his seam and the warm, prodding tongue at his lower panel. He only had so much self control, and with a slow moan he gave in and opened his lower panel for the Junkion, softening back into Kup’s hands as he did so, feeling a good amount of tension released at the action. Now his body was seeking the attention, not trying to hold it back. He stiffened only slightly as he felt Kup’s hands slide up his waist to his side, then up until they crept around to his chestplate and latched around him in a strange embrace as Kup continued to play with his seam. His knee joints began to feel weak as Wreck-Gar started in on the interlocking pieces hidden behind his lower panel, taking care to completely avoid his piece and valve.

Kup felt triumph closing in as Wreck-Gar tapped at his calf from between Devcon’s legs, telling the old soldier that the bounty hunter had opened his lower panel. Phase one of their devious little plan seemed to have gone without a hitch. He slowly pulled his tongue back up from the bottom of the seam to the top and stood up straight, thrumming his core low and long. He then tightened his arms around Devcon’s chestplate and pulled the bounty hunter back into him again. He rocked his hips slightly, pressing rough against the blue bot. He tipped his head forward to begin sucking on Devcon’s throat.

“You know, we really are some of the most intricate and advanced life-forms out there.” The soldier teased, making sure to keep his voice as calm as possible.

Wreck-Gar paused again as he heard Kup’s voice, but remembering what the plan was, he wasted no more time. Processing the old soldier’s words slowly, the Junkion began to swing his tongue around the inside of Devcon’s valve. The bounty hunter tensed and tried to pull away from Wreck-Gar, just as Kup had said he would. He was stopped however, and even let a moan escape him as the Junkion cautiously pressed his tongue against the pliable walls playfully, huffing out a hot breath as he did so.

“Ah-and?” Devcon rasped in response, trying to play Kup’s game. He wasn’t sure what the two Cybertronians were up to, but he could tell they were working together against him now, and he was starting to regret lowering his firewall. The strategy was obviously meant to break him down, but to what end the bounty hunter wasn’t sure. He was, however, a bit disappointed in himself as he realized Kup’s planning would bring him down quickly. The thrumming against his back was making the edges of his seam vibrate and brush against each other, filling him with a strange kind of painful pleasure, and the kid between his legs - well, Devcon would never deny that that felt good.

~This won’t take long at all, Wreck-Gar. So keep it up.~ Kup comm.ed privately, then snickered and began stroking Devcon’s chestplate leisurely. “And, I was just curious about just how much you knew about our direct interfacing capabilities?” He teased the bounty hunter, voice nothing but a purr to the blue bot’s audios. He widened his stance a bit, shifting his center of gravity and waiting for his equilibrium gauge to catch up before he began focusing energy on his lower panel in preparation to pop it open at exactly the right moment.

“I-I know a-a lot.” Devcon hissed, optics malfunctioning slightly as his body began to focus strictly upon other areas of his body. “I know e-enough.” He finished, not sounding nearly as confident as he wanted to. He stiffened and smacked back into Kup as Wreck-Gar slipped his thumbs into the bounty hunter’s valve, and moved his glossa to the top hole, prodding around as if searching for his piece. He stifled a moan and dropped his helm, core thrumming erratically.

Wreck-Gar responded by thrumming his own core twice, interrupting his humming in the process. He began to rub his thumbs in a semi-circle pattern along the opposite walls of Devcon’s valve, his other fingers pressed delicately into the surrounding pieces. He tilted his helm in all sorts of different directions in an attempt to send his glossa deep enough into Devcon’s top hole to find the tip of his piece. Just because it was hidden didn’t mean it wasn’t the most sensitive part on his body. He found his target and was rewarded with a loud cry from Devcon as the bounty hunter arched into Kup and his piece popped forward - directly into Wreck-Gar’s mouth. He was stunned for a moment, having not quite expected such a reaction, but he decided to make the best of the situation, and began to suck gently on the cool object, receiving only a moan of approval.

“Oh?” Kup continued, voice deliciously deep as he slowly pressed one hand into Devcon’s compliant midsection. “You didn’t know about that little technique I showed you on Webworld.” He pressed curiously, baiting. He rubbed his lower armor suggestively against Devcon’s aft as the Junkion took full advantage of the open lower panel. He heard the bounty hunter begin gripping desperately at the kid’s helm, and was slightly surprised as Devcon reached back with his free hand and began groping at Kup’s shoulders. He felt his panel begin to respond slowly, and opened it as quietly as possible.

“I wo-wouldn’t consi-sider that an in-interface technique, K-Kup.” Devcon groaned, digging his fingers into the old soldier’s back plate tightly and pulling him closer. “Th-that’s for function cycle or t-t-termination situations oh-only.” He kept on, even though he knew the more he talked the more he revealed he was playing right into Kup’s hands. He felt the soldier chuckle and brush against his aft once more, revealing that he’d opened his lower panel. Devcon swallowed a smile upon realizing he was probably going to be switching in the near future. Rational thought was all but decimated, however, as Wreck-Gar continued to suck on his exposed piece, making the bounty hunter’s legs weak and his inner wires knot and tighten in anticipation.

Wreck-Gar wrapped his agile glossa around Devcon’s piece and began to slide it back and forth, pursing his lips around the base of the piece and humming louder than before. He slid the thumb of his right hand out of the bounty hunter’s valve and slid the hand upwards to his midsection, kneading there gently. With his left hand he switched out his thumb for his two longest fingers, and began prodding pointedly at the valve walls. He was becoming eager to see how Devcon was going to respond to the final stage of Kup’s plan, and the thought of such alerted him to the fact that his own panel had swung open, and was not pleased at being ignored. He studied his position in his central processor for a moment before pulling his hand off Devcon’s midsection and sliding it towards his own lower panel, fingering the edges of his own valve.

“Really?” Kup sighed, sounding almost bored as he began to trace patterns along Devcon’s chestplate, squeezing harder at his side. “I think maybe it’s just because you don’t have the correct know-how to handle a connection like that pleasantly.” He suggested in a growl, pulling Devcon backwards so hard he dented his own chestplate. He released a soft moan and popped his piece, listening in satisfaction as it slid up against Devcon’s aft.

“Did you know then, bounty hunter,” he continued, voice just slightly starting to show his desire, though he was ten times more in control than Devcon, “that our whole lower panel interface is on a track?”

“Ah-a track?” Devcon gasped, rocking his hips forward into Wreck-Gar’s fingers. He shook his head. “Wh-hat the sl-slag are you ta-ahlking about?” He was about to continue arguing when his body decided that the things Wreck-Gar was doing were far more important. His vocal components failed him as the Junkion’s humming, coupled with the sucking, his tongue and those eager but unsure fingers, started a reaction he wasn’t about to stop. He leaned onto Kup for almost complete support as his valve, hot enough to melt iron, finally began lubricating. He rocked his hips forward as it happened, hissing out a low moan.

Wreck-Gar’s optic ridges rose in surprise as the bounty hunter finally began. That meant he was to put the next part of the plan into motion. He slowly pulled his mouth back and away from Devcon’s piece to focus momentarily on the task at hand. He reluctantly pulled his other hand from his own needy valve and brought both to the now damp panel before him. He began spreading the almost silky lubricant around, paying special attention to the seams. He smiled at his handiwork as the lubricant began to drip down Devcon’s thighs.

~You’re up. I’m lla done down ereh.~ He commed to Kup, popping a wet finger into his mouth curiously as an afterthought.

~Good job.~ Kup snickered back. The old soldier slowly powered down his optics and began to slide the hand he had gripped on Devcon’s midsection down. He felt the bounty hunter stiffen in response to the wandering hand, but Kup knew that Devcon’s central processor was so focused on his lower panel right then that he had the blue bot completely at his mercy. He smiled a wicked smile and slipped his hand between Devcon’s legs from behind, bringing his other hand down to brace the bot by his hip.

“Here,” he cooed, pressing two fingers deep into Devcon’s valve, “I’ll show you.” Without the slightest bit of hesitation the old soldier jerked back on the bounty hunter’s valve. The whole panel slid backwards with ease until locking into it’s new position. It had slid far enough back to almost start up Devcon’s aft, but stopped just low enough to permit Kup entrance from the back.

Devcon’s shout of surprise echoed around the ship before fading into Kup’s smug chuckling. The bounty hunter tried to regain composure but his faceplate was scarlet, his panel was throbbing and his core was thrumming loud enough to drown out the beeping of the autopilot. He sucked back a moan as the Junkion began shifting under him. At least now he knew what they wanted.

~You’re a-a scoundrel..~ He commed meekly to Kup.

~I could say the same to you.~ Kup sighed, brushing his piece teasingly against the entrance of Devcon’s valve.

Wreck-Gar repositioned himself a little further under Devcon and made himself comfortable. Now seated on his aft instead of his knees he felt his joints relax and his core began thrumming again. He stretched his left arm out behind him, palm on the floor, and dropped the other back down to his own burning valve. Running his fingers around the rim he leaned forward a bit and took Devcon’s piece back into his mouth. It was an odd thing to do, or so it seemed to him, but he enjoyed having something to occupy his mouth.

Kup could only tease for so long before he had to give in and pleasure himself. Taking hold of both of Devcon’s hips he rocked forward in a powerful thrust. His cold piece was met immediately with wet warmth and pressure. He kneaded his fingers against the bounty hunter’s waist and twisted his own just slightly, brushing the tip of his piece into giving valve walls. The old soldier had bonded with plenty of males and females alike, but there was a different kind of tightness to a male’s valve. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, but he knew he liked it.

Devcon’s faceplate reflected a crippling pleasure as Kup pulled out slowly before plunging back in. The feeling of being penetrated from behind was so strangely intimate that the bounty hunter quickly logged the idea away for later use. His arms hung tense at his sides for a few nano-seconds before he realized he had to do something with them. He brought them up quickly and grabbed hold of the Junkion’s helm, almost holding him to his piece affectionately. That sensation was akin to penetration but the wetness was different, thinner and cooler than the sticky valve lubrication. Devcon would need to remember this as well.

Wreck-Gar attempted to look up at Devcon, intending on giving him a ‘what are you doing?’ face, but with the bounty hunter’s hands so firmly on his helm, he couldn’t crane his neck enough to do so. He fell back into a pattern of sucking roughly on the piece, then stopping to circle his tongue around the tip as he traced his fingers the same way in his own valve. He wasn’t sure why the addition of the piece in his mouth made him thrum so hard, but it did just that, and he could feel his overload nearing.

Kup strained to keep back a laugh as Devcon’s helm tilted until it was resting on his shoulder. It appeared the bounty hunter was quite used to switching as well - maybe there was some credit to his claims. Despite the rather smarmy intentions behind his actions, Kup couldn’t keep himself as a distant participant for long, and soon wrapped his arms across Devcon’s chest and pulled him as close as possible. He tipped his own helm forward and pressed his mouth to Devcon’s throat, humming as he continued at a steady pace.

Devcon, being a lone traveler most of the time, took great pride in the fact that he knew himself better than anyone ever would. He believed that no-one could surprise him and use his body against him because he knew, better than they, what he was and was not capable of. However it appeared that the unconventional methods of Kup and Wreck-Gar were slowly unraveling that long-known faith in himself. His central processor was reeling and pleasantly ripping itself apart as it attempted to focus on one part of his lower panel more than the other, but each time it seemed to make up its decision, something happened and its attention was torn once more. He felt his lower wires suddenly begin to knot, and in a last ditch effort to try and find a focal point, his system ran into overload.

Wreck-Gar, unfortunately, had not thought this far into the process, and was understandably quite surprised. He shot backwards so quickly that his one supporting hand was unable to keep him upright and he hit the ground hard. His optics flickered for a moment, the circuitry tangled from the hard blow to the back of the helm, and he began to work the strange fluid around in his mouth. It had no taste, really, but a strong texture that almost mimicked one. It was rubbery and smooth, and somehow both a liquid and a solid at the same time. His optics finally powered up into a steady shine and he reached up to rub at his helm tenderly.

Kup started as he heard Wreck-Gar hit the floor, and winced as Devcon stiffened in response to his overload. The old soldier slowly lifted his helm and powered up his optics, focusing them in on Wreck-Gar, sprawled and rather disoriented on the floor. He smirked a bit and felt Devcon squirm in his arms. He stood up straight and regarded the back of the bounty hunter’s helm with a strange expression.

~What’s gotten into you?~ Kup muttered distractedly, optics blinking out as his body began to wonder why he had stopped his thrusting. His piece was still nestled within Devcon’s valve and it ached for overload.

~You uh- ever try and keep going after overload?~ Devcon muttered back, a slight wince in his voice. He felt his circuits and wires begin to loosen and relax, and a sudden exhaustion swept over him. His valve began to ache and he pried himself away from Kup, stepping over Wreck-Gar’s legs to lean against the wall for a moment. He powered up his optics and clicked his tongue at the expression Kup was giving him.

“What?” He panted, reaching down to try and snap his lower panel back into place. “It-it’s not my fault I-I couldn’t keep going... You two snuck up on m-me.” He groaned as the pieces slid forward and snapped into place once more, before covering up with a soft click. He narrowed one optic scope, realizing he was still being glared at like the enemy, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m going to recharge.” He snarled, then turned and walked away.

Wreck-Gar frowned and pushed himself up to his elbows, watching Devcon walk away with a frown. He kind of understood where the bounty hunter was coming from, after all they had indeed snuck up on him, and attempting to continue bonding after one mate had overloaded was, to say the least, uncomfortable, but his snippy attitude made it hard for the Junkion to sympathize with him. He heard Kup sigh deeply and turned his optics towards the old warrior, noticing with a twinge in his lower wires that the Autobot’s lower panel was still open.

“Well, how do you like that.” Kup muttered, hands on his hips. “We were just trying to be friendly.”

~Kind of hard to leef sorry for the yug when he acts ekil that.~ Wreck-Gar muttered in agreement, still on the floor.

Kup nodded in agreement, but raised his optic ridges in smug surprise as he turned to help the Junkion to his feet. He paused and knelt down; enjoying the confused look he received as Wreck-Gar had obviously been expecting to be helped upwards.

~Looks like we’re on our own then...~ The old soldier commed suggestively, wagging his eyebrow ridges. Wreck-Gar chuckled at him and pulled Kup a little closer.

“Bah weep graanah, weep ninni bong!”

“Bah weep grannah is right, my friend.” Kup chuckled, allowing the Junkion to pull him to the floor. He slipped one hand to Wreck-Gar’s shoulder blade and brought the other up to cup his face. He tipped his helm forward until his forehead touched Wreck-Gar’s, then pressed his hips down and entered the Junkion. It was sweet satisfaction. The old soldier moaned deeply.

Wreck-Gar accompanied Kup’s moan with his own, and powered his optics back down. His core quieted down and started a low, content rhythm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been penetrated in a conventional way, and his chassis was thrilled at the sensation. Kup’s piece was still warm from Devcon’s valve, and it made Wreck-Gar feel better to know that he wouldn’t have to hold out at all because Kup would probably not last much longer anyway. He felt himself throb slightly as Kup shifted to pull out.

Kup fell into a slower, less forceful rhythm, bracing himself with one arm. He slid the other hand around to support the back of Wreck-Gar’s helm, not wanting to slam it into the ground more than it had already been. He slowly flickered his optics off and matched the Junkion’s thrumming with his own. Wreck-Gar was much more welcoming, warmer and oddly comfortable when compared to Devcon. Kup supposed a bot’s personality chip directly affected certain parts of their bodies; the chip did double as a function coordinator, so it made sense. He let out a short gasp, feeling his lower wires tighten in anticipation.

Wreck-Gar suddenly latched onto Kup, throwing his arms around the Autobot’s back. His legs locked up, his spark pulsed brightly, his valve tightened and he let out a low growl as he overloaded. The overwhelming bliss lasted for only a few nano-seconds, but it carried him into Kup’s overload. He tilted his helm back into Kup’s hand and purred at the sensation, smiling wide as the soldier finished and collapsed atop him.

“Ba~ah weep.” Kup chuckled.

~

Wreck-Gar kept his faceplate blank, hard almost, and held a hand out to stop his fellow Junkions from going any further. His rather rough faceplate was now adorned with a long goatee and his frame was strong, broad and durable. He crossed his arms over his chest, under the large barrels which jutted out from the metal, and continued to stare down the new arrivals to his planet - A blue bounty hunter, a green Autobot, a pink femm-bot, a little yellow Autobot, and a heavily suited human.

“Um,” the pink femm-bot started, seeing no-one else make a move. “We-uh-”

“Hang on, Arcee,” The green Autobot sighed deeply, stepping forward and meeting optics with Wreck-Gar. “I’ve got this covered.”

“Marvelous.” The bounty hunter snarled. “You’re the one responsible getting us into this mess in the first place, and you expect us to trust you to negotiate with the natives?” He pushed the green bot aside and stepped up to Wreck-Gar himself, looking up at him with a snarl. He put his hands on his hips and narrowed his optic scope in response to the calculating look he was given.

“We demand passage!” He started, ignoring the noises of disapproval the others made behind him.

Wreck-Gar cocked his helm to one side, regarding the bounty hunter coldly. He heard his Junkions skittering about behind him, anxious and eagerly awaiting their leader’s command. He caught a small smirk from Kup, and couldn’t hold back any longer. Thrusting his hand out he grabbed Devcon’s lower panel roughly and then, beaming, said:

“Bah weep grannah, weep ninni bong!”

Individual Results May Vary Part Two

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:33:04 GMT

Part Two

WARNING: Yaoi, Slash, Explicit Cybertronian Sex

“-there!”

“Where!?”

“There, damnit! That cave!”

“And what the slag makes you think we’ll be safer in there?”

“It’s an old crash-site! I can see the extro-biological force field! Just trust me - GO!”

Devcon, currently not able to think of anything else to do, grabbed the arm of Wreck-Gar, shifted Kup higher up on his back, and ran towards the cave, er, crash-site. The rescue mission had gone well thus far, not great and certainly not according to plan, but Devcon had killed his mark and taken proof, so it wasn’t a total loss. Unfortunately Kup had been shot in the back, paralyzing him until he could get new parts, and the Wreck-Gar individual was leaking not only coolant but energon also, and at an alarming rate.

“Yaw taht s’tahw? Yaw taht gniog ew era yhw?”

“Shut up!” Kup shouted, turning his optics to the youngish Wreck-Gar. “Don’t say anything unless you can say it in a language we understand!”

“Gz, tch rn’t w? N nd t yll!”

Devcon let out a shout of frustration and practically threw Wreck-Gar into the cave before following. The sounds of weapons and shouting, as well as the presence of groping vines, was instantly shut out as the trio plunged into the hole in the hull of the completely vertical space-ship. They landed in an undignified, sparking heap.

“Anera eht ni refas saw I! Ah! Eucser a siht llac syug uoy? Mleh ym, ho.”

The sound of a clang echoed in the cockpit where the trio had landed.

“Kup told ya twice to shut up, Wreck-Gar.”

“N. H tld me nt t tlk nlss cld spk n lngg ndrstnd- nd, tchncll, shld ndrstnd wht ‘m sng.”

“Oh, Primus take me; I’m ready.” Kup moaned. The old Autobot watched helplessly as Devcon untangled himself from the mass of parts and limbs and approached the warrior. He smirked widely as the bounty hunter was forced to pick him up like an infant and hold him for a nano-second before finding a spot to set him and gently propping him in a sitting position against the wall.

“Lanimret ylbissop. Dab llew,... si kael siht kniht I tub, edurtni ot naem t’nod I.” Wreck-Gar mused solemnly to himself. He sat up and placed a hand high on his mid-section, frowning as he pulled it away to reveal coolant and energon. He held the wet hand up to show Kup and Devcon.

“Ees?”

~Do you understand a word that he says, Kup?~ Devcon comm.ed, putting his hands on his hips as he studied the... odd Junkion.

~Nope. Not a bit.~ Kup responded, shaking his helm. ~But I kind of get the impression he can understand us.~

~Why do you say that?~

~He’s trusted us thus far without struggle.~

~True.~ Devcon started back towards Wreck-Gar slowly. “Wreck-Gar, let me see that hole. I think I’ll be able to wield it closed and stop the leak.”

“K, bt thnk ‘v lst lt f flds... fl rll wk, nd trd.” Wreck-Gar slurred, lifting his arms and watching Devcon approach. “O i e a o ayi aou a, a e?”

“Uh, right.” Devcon muttered, shaking his helm. He knelt next to Wreck-Gar and carefully inspected the wound. It was really the worst kind of shot - not wide and with very little outer armor damage which made it easy to overlook, and extensive damage only to the outer-most layer of circuits, again so that no functions were impaired. It simply leaked. A lot. Devcon frowned as he switched out his left hand for a wielding tool.

“This is going to be real easy to patch up, Wreck-Gar, but it looks like you’ve lost a lot of fluid. I uh, and we certainly don’t have any here.”

“Tob dlo, soidua ruoy xif! Dias tsuj I tahw taht t’nsi! Tol a?! I evah diulf tsol ev’I - ho? Yas uoy did tahw?” Wreck-Gar fairly growled. He could feel it now, though, starting to creep in. His central processor was slowly shuffling through his lower functions, trying to decide which ones it was safe to temporarily shut down. On top of that he felt cold, and he hated feeling cold.

~Devcon,~ Kup said warningly, ~His primary shield just clicked off-line. He’s power saving. That means he’s not going to be able to make it anywhere until we get him some more energon. Coolant he’ll be ok with on low, we can just open all his vents...~

~Not good.~ Devcon responded, only slightly distracted by his project. ~We need to find some way to - ~ He paused as Kup began laughing out loud.

“Wht?” Wreck-Gar questioned, echoed by Devcon.

“There is a way we can give him enough energon to keep him moving.”

“How?”

“Wonk at tnaw I erus ton m’I... rethgual taht htiw delpuoc, aedi taht.” Wreck-Gar moaned softly.

“There is a way to transfer just energon during bondmating. The technique allows the energon to flow directly from one Cybertronian’s circuitry to the other’s. An effective transfusion.” Kup laughed.

Wreck-Gar and Devcon regarded each other momentarily before Devcon turned a glare to Kup, and Wreck-Gar’s faceplate lit up.

~I should scrap you here and now!~ The bounty hunter threatened viciously, even balling a fist to emphasize. Kup simply smiled and shrugged - to the best of his abilities.

“Wll, ‘m pn fr nthng. Nd th nrgn vcn sn’t t bd n th ptcs - s, h, jst tll m wht t d.” Wreck-Gar said a bit playfully as he looked from Devcon to Kup, then back again.

Devcon slowly resigned himself to his fate and turned to face Wreck-Gar. His faceplate lit up instantly as he was given a coy smile and a wink. He removed the gun from his helm roughly as he addressed Kup.

“Alright, fine. But only because he needs this.” The blue bot grumbled. “What first?”

“Well, you can’t very well do anything with your panels closed now can you?” Kup supplied smugly.

~You’re gonna suffer for this, Autobot.~

~Stop complainin’ ya big baby. He’s seriously in need. If I could swap places with you I would.~ Kup offered, and though his voice was still a little smug, Devcon could tell it was the truth.

Devcon powered down his optics as he leaned forward and gently pressed Wreck-Gar up against the wall. He received only slight resistance which told him Wreck-Gar was only just as willing as himself. He tried to hold in a sigh as he leaned further still and sought out the Junkion’s neck. His target was offered freely to him and he felt weak hands grip his arms as he began to suck and lick neglected cords and wires. Contrary to the taste of Kup (which Devcon had not yet been able to forget), Wreck-Gar was impossibly sweet and coppery.

Wreck-Gar tried his best to tell himself that this was happening only so that Devcon could transfer energon to him - but he didn’t know how long he could keep up the mantra. He’d long been aware of his ‘clingy’ habits towards mates, bonded or otherwise, and though he tried not to let himself become dependant on his partners it always seemed to just happen. It did not help that Devcon and Kup had just saved him from seven years of seclusion on this asylum planet, nor that his last partner had left him only days before his capture in a state of agony and despair. Plus, Devcon’s tongue was very talented.

Kup regretted almost instantly opening his mouth. Yes it was aid for a bot in need, plus it was dangerous and unkind to leave him in such a state. Unfortunately Kup had forgotten to take into account the fact that he was temporarily paralyzed - which meant he would have to witness the whole bonding experience without being able to respond correctly. He would just have to store the files for later use.

As Devcon continued, knocking Wreck-Gar’s helm back in a far tilt of appreciation, he felt the Junkion’s hands begin to fumble their way up to his shoulders. Relief suddenly washed over him as he realized that it probably wouldn’t take long to open Wreck-Gar’s panel, after all the bounty hunter had no idea how long the Junkion had been a patient. Cybertronians aged so physically slowly that Wreck-Gar could have been a prisoner for over a century and wouldn’t ‘look’ it. He suppressed a shudder as Wreck-Gar found a sweet spot on the back of his neck, and reached up to gently squeeze the Junkion’s hip.

Perhaps under normal circumstances Wreck-Gar would have tried to hold out. Having been nothing but abused and neglected for so long he should have tried to prolong the pleasure. However he had no such control in his current state. His core thrummed in delight at the attention, but his central processor reeled at having to juggle this as well as keeping him functioning on such low levels of energon. Apparently realizing this would not stop until it was over, Wreck-Gar’s body gave in and his panel clicked open.

Kup smiled a little as he heard Wreck-Gar’s panel slide open. He’d met some easy bots in his time, but that had to be a record. Chalking it up to the fact that Wreck-Gar hadn’t gotten any in a while, (mostly so he wouldn’t have to admit Devcon was just that good) he began rummaging through his databanks. He knew that the nano-second Devcon’s panel opened, he would want instructions and Kup planned to be ready. He didn’t want to keep the bounty hunter waiting any longer than necessary. Sure Devcon was funny as sigma when he threw his little tantrums, but he nagged about them continuously afterwards and it wasn’t worth the trade.

Devcon had heard that there were Cybertronian’s out there who could open their panels at will. Rumor stated that they simply had to think ‘panel, open’; and it would. However he’d never seen anyone do it and wasn’t about to make himself look like an idiot trying. He had also heard that there was a way to do it manually by accessing the wires inside. That, to him, seemed unnatural and too damned kinky. It sounded to him like something your medic would do, and he wasn’t into that kind of slag. So he would be stuck waiting on arousal to work its magic. He tried to focus simply on the feeling of bonding, hoping that maybe anticipation would take the lead. When that yielded no immediate response he pulled up image files of Kup on the counter; finger sucking and completely at Devcon’s mercy...

Wreck-Gar began to feel uneasy and apprehensive as the seconds clicked by that his panel remained the only one exposed. He told himself that his two rescuers couldn’t rape him, really, because he was offering it to them in a sense. He then silently clicked at himself for such a thought. It all boiled down, in reality, to facts. Fact One: Wreck-Gar had not bonded in years, so his body was more than ready. Fact Two: He’d also been miss-treated and neglected for years which made just about every pleasant sensation sexual. Fact Three: Wreck-Gar was injured. Fact Four: They were complete strangers and while Wreck-Gar was an open person, Devcon was not. Four facts. They made him feel a little more comfortable as he squirmed.

Kup’s small smile turned to a frown as the action before his optics came to a stop. He knew that Devcon was being stubborn and thinking instead of feeling, and that Wreck-Gar was too shy, too shocked, or both, to take the lead. He felt a twinge of frustration and sighed deeply.

“You two aren’t going to get anywhere if you don’t start touching each other, for Primus’s sake. Wreck-Gar he’s about to save your mainframe, so show some adoration. And Devcon, you’re about to be this kid’s hero - play it up because I know you like the attention.” Kup was only slightly surprised when he received absolutely no answer - he’d probably just embarrassed the sigma out of both of them. Maybe now though they’d get something accomplished.

Devcon had never wanted to scrap anything as much as he wanted to scrap Kup at that very moment. He’d almost forgotten that Kup was even there, but now he remembered that the old soldier would be watching the whole thing. He’d give him something worth watching then. He’d tear into that Wreck-Gar kid like a monster. He would ruin him. And all the while he’d be pretending it was Kup: Kup’s green shine he was scuffing up; Kup’s valve he was plowing into. His panel suddenly clicked open.

“Ha!” Devcon laughed, physically startling the Cybertronian beside/under him. “Now what?”

“We’ll, I’m sure you know about that little cord coiled in the center of your piece. So what you need to do is feed the end of your cord into the end of Wreck-Gar’s. His cord has to overlap so that the pressure of your energon being fed to him doesn’t blast the connection apart.”

“Gnikoj eb ot tog ev’uoy.” Wreck-Gar moaned.

“No offense there, doctor, but isn’t that going to hurt like sigma? Those cords are supposed to stay inside, and they most certainly aren’t supposed to stretch.” Devcon growled.

“It’ll burn good, sure - but I’m sure the two of you can take it. As for the stretching, well, that just takes a day or two to repair, and it’s more tender than outright painful. The cords just spring back into place when you’re done.”

“You ae i ou o eay.” Wreck-Gar whined again. “Ae you ue i i oi o o?”

“Trust me - I’ve done this plenty of times before.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to bond like that, Kup?”

“Your piece will be able to push his piece back and then just go on from there with that hole.”

“h, ‘v dn tht bfr; t h, t fls nc.” Wreck-Gar admitted fondly.

“Other than that, Wreck-Gar just needs to relax, and Devcon, you’ve got to keep an eye on your energon levels. You don’t want to give too much and put us back into this situation.”

“Right.” Devcon muttered through pursed lips.

Wreck-Gar tensed and told himself he had to stay quiet, he didn’t want to embarrass himself further. It looked like both Kup and Devcon were viewing this in a strictly professional way, so that meant he could too. Of course he felt all that thinking shatter when Devcon’s hands slowly returned to him. He shuddered as the bounty hunter gripped his hip joint, then brushed two fingers over the empty top opening which held Wreck-Gar’s piece. The Junkion couldn’t hold in a small moan as the same two fingers pressed inside, so gentle it was like they weren’t even there.

“Pop it for me, Junkion.” Devcon muttered, well aware there was no way he could say such a thing and not have it sound like he was talking dirty. He heard another noise escape Wreck-Gar, followed by a soft click, and then the Junkion’s piece popped through. Devcon could not help but admire the piece as he took it into his hand - he was surprised at the size of the part, truth be told. He released the Junkion’s hip and brought his other hand towards the piece as well. He felt Wreck-Gar whimper as he prodded the tip, feeling around with a finger for the tube.

Kup’s optics flickered in frustration as his body told his central processor to open his panel with no success. He smiled and sucked on his bottom lip for a nano-second as Devcon found the tube and pulled it out a ways. The Junkion instantly clamped his hands on Devcon’s arms and arched into the touch. The poor kid was so desperate for pleasure it made Kup whine. He knew they were just doing this to save the kid’s function cycle, but he wasn’t sure just how far the kid could convince himself that was all they were doing. It certainly didn’t look like Wreck-Gar was viewing the situation as a matter of termination or function.

Wreck-Gar felt slightly ashamed of himself as he arched once more, rocking his hips in desire. He figured he would probably never see these two again, and that word of his behavior would never reach the Junkions, so if he gave in he could act as passionately as he wanted with no repercussions. He gave another unabashed moan as he felt Devcon shift to find his own tube. Reluctantly releasing his grip on one of Devcon’s arms, he slid his free hand towards his own panel and began to finger the edges of his valve, arching further and whimpering.

Devcon bit back his own noise as Wreck-Gar began to writhe and whimper beneath him. He wanted this, he wanted it bad, and it wasn’t just because he needed the energon. Devcon’s lips became a thin smile as he realized he could have fun with this: plenty of fun. He winced slightly as he pulled out his tube, though not about to deny that something about it felt damned good. He focused his optics on both tubes and frowned - the openings were exactly the same size; how was he ever going to fit his inside Wreck-Gar’s? He recalled Kup mentioning stretching, and gently prodded the tip of his pinky finger into the opening.

Kup’s faceplate worked into a frown and he almost considered comm.ing Devcon to tell him to be easy with the kid. But he knew it was beyond absolutely necessary, so he swallowed his guilt and told himself he’d make it up to Wreck-Gar later. The Junkion let out another moan of pain as Devcon continued to stretch his tube in preparation. The kid seemed to be handling it ok, though, he was now knuckle deep in his own valve and Kup figured that was really easing the pain. He thought back to two nights ago when he had switched for Devcon, and though he was in no hurry whatsoever to do it again, he knew that something that felt that good could probably ease a lot of aches and pains.

Wreck-Gar’s core began thrumming low and strong as his energon depraved body wrestled with the pain of his tube being stretched and the pleasure he was coaxing from his own valve. He heard a faint alarm sound, telling him his optics and audios were now off-line, and would remain thus until his energon levels increased. He then felt all of his vents open full blast to relieve a heat he’d somehow been unaware of. He let out a deep huff of hot air, however, and could feel himself cooling. He made a soft yelp as Devcon removed his finger and began feeding in his tube. Wreck-Gar found he thoroughly enjoyed the sensation and arched upwards again.

Devcon let out a deep moan before he knew what he was doing as his tube slipped steadily inside of Wreck-Gar’s. It was probably the oddest thing he’d ever felt, but it wasn’t bad - on the contrary, it was quite nice. He felt the Junkion writhing beneath him, and figured this was it. He moved both hands to Wreck-Gar’s hips and pulled gently to settle the kid under himself. The Junkion didn’t resist at all, in fact he even wiggled down a bit to get himself into place quicker. The bounty hunter then paused for only a second more as he studied their position, then he rocked forward to press the tip of his piece to Wreck-Gar’s, and began.

Kup was pretty sure the poor kid was gonna overload then and there, because he made such a noise the old soldier was sure he’d alerted the whole planet. From his angle Kup had a pretty clear view of what was going on, but Wreck-Gar wrapped himself so completely around the bounty hunter that when Devcon finally penetrated the Junkion, copper and blue meshed to a blur. The old soldier panted out another moan as his body continued to click urgently that his lower panel needed to open - NOW. He chuckled dryly even as his faceplate flushed with hot energon.

Wreck-Gar wanted to fold into a tiny ball and simply let Devcon swallow him. Primus. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt something so good. Devcon’s piece pushing into his with so much force it pulled back into him, sinking further and further back as he was penetrated, only to immediately spring out again, hungry for more. He felt the paint on his back chip as Devcon’s powerful thrusts pushed and pulled him along the floor. His hip joints fairly moaned in protest as Devcon’s grip remained firm, spreading Wreck-Gar’s legs as far as they would go. He couldn’t hear the clang of metal against metal, but each time Devcon pushed inside he panted out a hot breath on Wreck-Gar’s face, and the Junkion’s imagination reeled at what the bounty hunter must sound like.

Devcon had about had too much of new and indescribable sensations, and was beginning to long for the kind of bonding he was used to. None of this virgin or piece-hole slag. Bonding was supposed to be hot and sticky, and while he wasn’t about to stop because it felt so scrappin’ good, the cold air around the hole felt alien and strange. He was, however, rewarded with the marvelous feeling of Wreck-Gar’s piece as it throbbed and clenched, trying to hold back overload. He suddenly felt something akin to the sensation of a wire snapping loose- but nowhere near as painful. As he forced himself again into the tight hole, he felt the disruption of his energon flow begin.

Kup felt his own wires stiffen and knot in wanting as he listened to Devcon and Wreck-Gar. He kept trying to tell himself it was all to save Wreck-Gar’s functioning, but all his processor wanted to see was two attractive Cybertronians, bonding only feet away. He felt the longing to join them increase as Wreck-Gar began making long, low moans of unabashed pleasure, and the voice was soon joined by Devcon as he grunted softly with each inward thrust. The old soldier tried to look away, but it wasn’t long before his optics sought out the bonding pair again. He resigned himself to watch in agony, and smirked.

Wreck-Gar felt his central processor cut the connections to his limbs as Devcon continued to press into him. He could feel the energon start to move through his lower body, but as a precaution his central processor wanted to keep it isolated - just in case. The energon flow began to heat up his piece, and it made his stomach chamber churn softly. He began to feel the chills of pleasure course through him, making him shudder and moan. He felt his core temperature rise - and continue up. He tensed as his optics suddenly flared up into whiteness. He was flooded with nothing but pleasure as his body gave in and he overloaded, shouting as loud as he could.

Devcon smirked as the bot under him overloaded. Neglected or not that was slagging quick, and Devcon felt proud that he’d been able to work the kid up so fast. He did not have long to be smug, however, as his tube was forced to accept Wreck-Gar’s fluid. He tensed up, then his optics flared wide and he leapt to his feet, snapping his connection with Wreck-Gar. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, growling as a strange new pain seemed to freeze his central processor. He wasn’t standing up right for long though because his tube suddenly snapped back up into his piece and had him doubled over in pain.

“Oh, slag!” Kup shouted from across the room, laughing. “I forgot - I forgot to tell you!”

“Wht - wht hppnd?” Wreck-Gar said groggily, as if coming out of recharge.

“Forgot to tell me what!?” Devcon half growled, half shouted.

“W-well, not really forgot - I - I just though the kid could hold out through the transfusion!”

“Out with it, old man!” Devcon snarled.

“You should probably have detached your - t-tubes before o-overload be-because that scrap burns like Sigma!” Kup tossed back his head and practically began vibrating with laughter. Wreck-Gar, seeming to understand that the joke was on Devcon, joined him.

Individual Results May Vary Part One

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:32:15 GMT

A fic which was mostly done as a gift for Loki.

Wreck-gar, Devcon and Kup.

WARNING - Yaoi, Slash, Explicit Cybertronian Sex.

Kup had never really been keen on two-man groups: He preferred to work alone, with a large group, or not at all. However in his current position he had no choice - he had to locate this Wreck-Gar individual, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed a guide.

“So, you know this place pretty well then, eh?” Kup pressed, fixing his optics on the blue Cybertronian seated across from him. He received simply a nod as the bounty hunter called Devcon took a deep draft from his high grade. Kup admired the bot’s tolerance, he hadn’t had much time since the war started to actually visit an establishment and find a drinking partner - so he considered himself lucky that on this rare occasion his soon-to-be partner could keep up with him.

“I wouldn’t offer my services if I didn’t feel confidently about my knowledge of the geography.” Devcon lifted his cup to his lips and smiled. “Plus my current target happens to be hiding out on that planet as well.” He powered down his optics to finish off his high grade.

Kup grinned a bit wider and nodded in approval.

“Then it looks like we’re travelin’ together,” the Autobot said, leaning forward and propping his arm on the table by the elbow, offering his hand to Devcon, “partners?”

“Partners.” Devcon said after a slight chuckle, gripping Kup’s hand tightly.

The two met optics as metal connected and locked gazes. A silent question passed between them, but as both had ‘asked’ the same question, the answer was already there. Experienced warriors such as the two of them had become masters at reading the unspoken. However they were aided this time not only by insight, but by the fact that this particular question had a very specific look behind it, and unbeknownst to each other, they’d both asked numerous times before. Cybertronians like them, being a little past their prime, were not likely to settle down, and were likely to seek out partnership of the non-lasting type.

Giving Kup a rather smarmy smirk, Devcon raised a hand in a signal for another two cups of high grade. He had seen his share of wandering Autobots since leaving Cybertron, and he had to admit that this Kup character was one of the more attractive ones. He also had a very alluring air about him, for he carried himself like a seasoned warrior - well trained and loyal-, but there was something hidden in his chassis. Perhaps a playful streak or suppressed mischievousness. Devcon liked that - he knew a challenge when he saw one.

Kup uttered a small ‘thank you’ as a full glass of high grade was set down in front of him. He picked up the cup and powered down his optics to take a swig. The high grade was good: real good. It burned his throat as it went down but warmed his spark pleasantly. This was their fourth round in less than an hour, and it was only just beginning to dull Kup’s central processor. Setting the drink back down he wondered if his easy-on-the-optics partner was feeling it yet.

“So, who exactly are you searching for, Autobot?” Devcon asked softly, looking around the tavern almost suspiciously. “You’re a long way from Cybertron.”

“I’m looking for a Junkion named Wreck-Gar,” Kup supplied, lightly twirling his cup in his hands, “we’ve got intelligence that says he’s actually seen the Decepticon Matrix of Leadership.” He lifted his optics to Devcon’s, wondering how much lore the ex-soldier was familiar with. He was given a slight cock of the helm.

“The Decepticon matrix? I thought that didn’t really exist.”

“So did we - so did Prime.” Kup sighed, pausing to sip once more. “But we got our hands on a guy named Brass Maxis, and he had a piece of it. We managed to wrangle a name out of him: The name of the last person who had the piece - Wreck-Gar.”

“Brass Maxis, you mean the scientist?”

“The one and only.” Kup said, clearly impressed.

“What was he doing with the matrix?”

“We don’t really know. The guy heading up the, well, information extraction didn’t know what he was doing, and we lost our POW before someone else could take over.”

“Lost him? How?”

“Would you believe he was rescued?”

“A Decepticon - rescued?” Devcon scoffed. “He must have been pretty important.”

“Well, not really him, but his eldest son, Ironclad.” Kup took a moment to make sure he could afford it, and then waved for a fifth round. “Ironclad was a big player in Megatron’s ploy to take out the Triple Changers.”

“Ah, right. I heard about them - mainframe abnormalities, their type.”

“You can say that again.” Kup didn’t even acknowledge the bar maid, instead he kept going. “Apparently Sharpshred had expressed a great interest in Ironclad’s unique coating - to the point that she had attempted to seduce the lad. Well obviously Hy-tech wasn’t too happy about that - so he attacked the boy’s mother. He wasn’t, ultimately, the cause of her termination, but Ironclad blamed him for it.”

“Wasn’t ultimately the cause?”

“Naw - he beat the scrap out of her, but it was a Decepticon who finished her off. Family too, from what I hear.”

“Fitting.”

“Just a little, but Megatron planned on using the whole thing to his advantage. Warping Ironclad’s rationale chip he convinced the kid to agree to, basically, a suicide mission. By this point the slagging Triple Changers had already taken Octane, so they were on the top of Megatron’s list. The plan was for Ironclad to appeal to Sharpshred’s curiosity and convince her he was done with the Decepticons. Then he was supposed to turn her against Hy-tech, since everybody knew he had a one-up on her; and hopefully he’d scrap her. Then Ironclad was to lead Hy-tech and Octane into a trap. Megatron promised Ironclad he could have Hy-tech - of course what he didn’t tell the boy was that he would have to survive the onslaught first since Megatron planned to open fire on the trio the moment they were in sight.”

“So, how does Brass Maxis fit into all this?”

“He and Ironclad were reportedly very close, and he was kidnapped before Megatron could put the plan into motion. Being a relatively intelligent kid, Ironclad told Megatron to his faceplate, that he wasn’t doing anything until his father was safe.”

“Got you.” Devcon said, nodding then looking at his drink. Would it be worth it to order another round? He was already feeling the bubbles in his equilibrium gauge, and was looking forward to ‘recharge’ with Kup - so was there really a need for it? He lifted his optics and grinned at the green Autobot across from him.

“I think you and I are on the same wavelength, Devcon.” Kup snickered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You want to rent a room, or does my ship sound ok to you?” The blue Cybertronian asked as the duo stood, leaving payment for their drinks on the table.

~I dunno,~ Kup responded playfully, using a comm. channel so there would be no chance of them being over heard, ~how much abuse can your ship handle?~

~Are you questioning the reliability of my space-craft, Kup?~ Devcon replied, though his voice was just as playful. ~Because that, my friend, would be a mistake.~

Kup grinned wildly at the blue bot as he held open the door for him, chuckling.

~Naw, of course not! I just don’t want to be held responsible for denting anything.~ He let the statement hang promisingly and fell into step behind Devcon as they entered the docking station.

The whole port seemed to be asleep. The only life there the duo apparently left at the bar. There were a good number of ships; however they were all most likely empty. Ports like this one were notorious for attracting the lowest kind of scum, so most of the crews and captains of the ships would be inside, enjoying whatever luxuries they could afford. Only men like Devcon, Kup mused to himself, respected their ship enough to know its luxury could not be beaten.

Devcon’s ship was small, but pleasantly so. It seemed to have been constructed specifically for the purpose of carrying Devcon, his hit, and perhaps a third party. Kup grinned to himself, for indeed the ship looked more than capable of taking a beating.

“SolarFlare.” Devcon said affectionately, looking over his shoulder at Kup. “I’ve had her for seventeen years now and she’s never once let me down.”

“She’s quite a beauty. Is she custom?”

“Essentially - yes. She used to be an escape pod on a warship for the Vilsid people, but I picked her up at a cheap price and used the money I would have spent on a ready ship to have her completely modified.” Devcon paused and opened the door to the cockpit, waving Kup inside. “So if you do dent anything, you’ll be paying to fix it.”

“Aye aye, capt’n.” Kup slurred slightly, high grade now fully working through his circuits. He leaned up against a dark red counter as Devcon followed him in, closing and locking the door in his wake.

“So, who’s switching?” Devcon said in almost a growl. He reached up and slowly, rather uncoordinatedly, removed the weapon from atop his helm. He set it down on a small card table, and narrowed his optics curiously as Kup began to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Autobot?”

“You cut right to the chase, dontcha?”

“I’ve gotten used to working on a tight schedule.” Devcon supplied lazily before sizing Kup up. “So?”

“You ever heard of a little game called ‘heatlock’?” Kup suggested, crossing his arms over his chestplate. He was rewarded with a tilt of Devcon’s helm.

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous, Kup?”

“You got any better ideas, merc.?”

“I’m a bounty hunter, soldier: Not a merc.”

“You game then?” Kup smirked, moving away from the counter and stepping towards Devcon. Bringing the duo close enough to feel the other’s breath on their faceplates, the Autobot hummed alluringly at Devcon. The reaction was a soft, pulsing glow from Devcon’s spark - a soft, minty blue in color. It was strongest at his chest, but it radiated through each and every crack in his armor. At this point, however, it wasn’t strong enough to taint his faceplate.

“Alright.” Devcon sighed, exhaling hot air into Kup’s faceplate. “First one to break, switches?” He continued, humming back with his own unique pitch as he powered down his optics.

~Agreed.~ Kup comm.ed, shutting off his own visuals. ~Begin.~

Heatlock was a simple, but dangerous game. The players would cease internal cooling functions and stop inhaling cool air. This would rapidly heat their cores. Most Cybertronians could do this, without great risk, for a minute - however three minutes was plausible. After three minutes damage begins to take hold, and at five minutes the body automatically shuts itself down and begins cooling. Anything past five minutes meant that the Cybertronian had sustained manual function damage, and was entering overheat.

Kup had played this game ever since he was a child: He had threatened his parents with it until he got his way; he had made himself untouchable in the academy with an impressive winning streak; and he’d used it to gain his share of recharge mates. He had a technique which had never let him down, and a fierce determination to watch Devcon switch for him.

Devcon, on the other hand, had seen more of the vast galaxy than Kup had - though Kup was no homebody. However Devcon had made arrests on the desert planet of Fai, the volcanic systems of Nalduune, and the completely submerged city of Tarfleplex - all three of these arrests had nearly sent him into overheat. His core, for these reasons, was well adapted to dealing with heat many Cybertronians would find entirely unbearable. It was a silent pride of his.

Kup’s humming faded just the slightest bit as he began to feel the condensation forming on his faceplate and under his helm. He kept his optics off-line as he began to feel it bead and drip down his neck. Any nano-second now, Devcon would break...

Devcon didn’t even attempt to hide the smirk on his faceplate as he felt a few drops of condensation hit his chest piece. Kup was still humming, though it was a bit softer now, but Devcon knew the Autobot wouldn’t be winning. He increased the volume of his own humming in playful spite.

Kup couldn’t help but power-up his optics as he felt and heard Devcon’s humming grow louder. He was witness to a devious smirk on the bounty hunter’s faceplate. The old soldier narrowed his optic scope and concentrated on humming louder than his partner. That would teach him that Kup didn’t switch for anyone.

Devcon’s humming ‘hiccupped’ as he attempted to hold in a chuckle at Kup’s determination. He thought about taunting him via comm., or even humming louder to instigate, but the contest came to an abrupt end without his help. Kup, it seemed, had attempted to up the volume of his humming again, this time in challenge instead of response to challenge - but the heat interfered. The Autobot’s hum got ‘caught’, he coughed, and then sucked in a long, cooling breath.

As Kup stepped back and abruptly stopped humming, Devcon let out a deep chuckle and crossed his arms over his chestplate. He looked well beyond smug.

“Looks like I won.” He said, his voice deep with heat. Kup answered him with a ‘humph’ and a mumbled replied as he looked up and away indignantly.

“What’s wrong, Autobot?” Devcon thrummed his core, stepping closer and taking Kup’s chin between two fingers. Tilting the blue optics back in his direction he smiled darkly.

“Sore loser?”

“Wasn’t a fair match.” Kup grumbled, though defeat was easy to hear in his voice. “I’m still roughed up from that bar fight earlier...”

“Kup, you won that fight.”

“Doesn’t mean they didn’t get a few good hits in!” Kup declared, wrenching his chin out of Devcon’s grasp. “But I’m - I’m a bot of my word so... So you win. This time!” He finished quickly, poking the bounty hunter in the chest. His wrist was immediately captured and used to pull Devcon closer.

“Don’t worry - I’ll be gentle.” Devcon cooed. He then quickly, before Kup could respond, tipped his helm forward, wrapped his lips over an exposed wire on Kup’s throat, and sucked. He felt the Autobot shudder and gripped Kup’s shoulder gently with his free hand. The wires at his lips were taunt and stress heavy - which meant Devcon was going to have to really work to get Kup relaxed enough to lubricate, let alone switch.

Kup felt the anger within him (born from Devcon’s last comment) slowly subside, and it was replaced by a deep and sudden need. He wasn’t sure if it was the high grade, the fact that he hadn’t gotten any in a while, or both, but he was suddenly uncontrollably horny. He tilted his helm back to freely offer Devcon a little more of his neck. It wasn’t one of his sweet spots, but slag, it felt good. He maneuvered the hand in Devcon’s grip enough to splay his fingers over the blue bot’s chest. The other he slid up Devcon’s back, searching for a small seam he’d seen earlier.

Devcon flicked his tongue out, almost lazily, over the exposed wires and cords of Kup’s throat. He explored with the tip of it, discovering wires with patches (he pressed his tongue hard against the seams, following them as best he could), and cords that seemed to have been completely replaced (these even tasted slightly different). He pulled his tongue back behind his faceplate, smirking as he felt a steady, curious hand on his back. He did not have long to enjoy it, however, for a finger from said hand found the seam of his back. It was a rare condition, this seam, for it essentially was his transformation transfuser. He and the few others who shared this condition could be forcibly transformed - even against their will.

~Kup,~ the bounty hunter comm.ed with a quiver.

~Don’t get your chassis in a knot, Devcon,~ Kup replied: Snarky. ~I know what it is.~

The Autobot warrior felt his partner relax just the slightest bit. He was still obviously uncomfortable though, judging by the fact that his mouth had stopped its ministrations and he was simply panting against Kup’s neck. The cycle of hot then cold air made Kup’s core quake pleasantly, so he decided to show the loner just how much he knew about these seams.

Devcon had only been eased slightly by Kup’s confession, mostly because Devcon was a programmed bounty hunter and his constantly alert senses warned him that he may have let his guard down too soon. The warnings were instantly put to rest as two of Kup’s fingers began to slowly climb the seam, their gentle tips just barely touching the delicate and fragile wires beneath. He reeled. The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before. Most of his one-night-stands were so focused on overload they didn’t even begin to explore his framework; Kup had not only explored, he had found territory unfamiliar to even Devcon himself.

It felt, almost, like having his valve entrance gently probed but there was this high-powered, almost suppressed tingle of pain that began to flow deliciously through his core and spark alone. And the idea that, at any second, Kup could force him to his knees in agony, made his lower panel simply ache.

Kup grinned as he heard a soft click, signaling that even though Kup was switching, Devcon had opened first. He applied just the smallest amount of pressure the seam, feeling more than hearing Devcon moan in response. He curled the fingers of his other hand inward playfully, scraping them against Devcon’s chestplate. He took a small step forward and could instantly feel the heat from the exposed lower panel.

Devcon knew he had to get a grip. He and Kup had turned this into a contest, and while it was really all about making yourself feel good and not winning or losing - he still wanted to win. He held fast as Kup stepped forward and tipped his hips just slightly towards the Autobot. He could feel the responding heat from Kup’s lower panel, but it was clear Devcon still had a bit of work ahead of him.

He released Kup’s wrist and shoulder and slowly pulled each of his hands down to Kup’s waist. The left hand he dragged slowly across the chest piece, making sure to poke and prod each little hole, seam, dent and joint along the way. His right hand he slid down Kup’s side, pressing and squeezing every time he got a hand hold. When both hands were stationed at Kup’s hips he moved them slowly around to Kup’s aft and...

Kup’s faceplate lit up with hot energon as the echo of his yelp faded away. He knew there was a smirk on Devcon’s face, the slaggin’ bastard, but just because he’d found a sweet spot didn’t mean Kup was going to be goo in his hands - No way. Kup was already daunted by the idea of switching, and there was no way he was going to open without a fight. Devcon was on the right track, but Kup wasn’t going to help him any.

He decided, for the time being, that the bounty hunter’s seam was too easy. It felt like cheating. So he’d have to find some other area to exploit. He slid his hand the rest of the way up Devcon’s back and tightly gripped his shoulder. He then turned his focus to the free hand splayed on Devcon’s chest: It seemed like a good place to start. After a few nano-seconds of brushing his palm over the surface, he curved his fingers around the side and found an open joint. Cautiously, curiously, he pressed a finger inside.

Devcon’s optics clouded over as Kup’s finger brushed over his internal wiring. The sudden burst of heat caused a few bubbles to rise and pop within his equilibrium gauge and he stumbled forward. What could have been an embarrassing fall was saved by the empty counter which now pressed into Kup’s lower back. Feeling his knuckles brush the underside of the surface, Devcon wrapped his palms over Kup’s aft and in one, fluid motion lifted the Autobot to sit on the counter.

There was a loud clang as Kup whacked the side of Devcon’s helm. He did it partly to reprimand the bounty hunter for such a move, and partly to hide the sound of his panel clicking open. He had always had a sensitive aft, fortunately most (if not all, he couldn’t rightly remember) the Cybertronians who knew that little fact were dead. Kup hoped Devcon kept his high grade hole shut - for Devcon’s sake.

While taking a moment to ponder his next move, Kup was assaulted once more by the heat of Devcon’s mouth, this time along the curve of his chestplate. He returned both his hands to Devcon’s metal, gripping the bounty hunter’s shoulders tight. He felt the blue bot’s glossa run side to side over his chassis, making him moan as the drying condensation tingled. The drag of Devcon’s smooth, wet glossa turned all of Kup’s sensor inhibitors off and a pleasant chill ran through his core like a tiny overload.

Devcon powered down his optics as he pressed his tongue along the seams of Kup’s plating. The old soldier tasted like sweet iron and dark oils, and the bounty hunter began humming in appreciation. A bout of Kup’s quivering brushed Devcon’s piece along the inside of the Autobot’s thigh, and the humming was broken by a moan. Challenge be damned. Devcon couldn’t hold out much longer and his lips curved into a devilish grin.

Kup soon became lost in the smooth drag of the glossa on his chassis, and was slowly brought out of his blissful stupor as he realized Devcon was making a new pattern. After sliding his glossa back to the center of Kup’s chest, he began to pull it down. It crawled over the remaining length of Kup’s chest piece to the hard, sharp interlocking plates of his midsection. Kup unknowingly began kneading at the balls of Devcon’s shoulders as the bounty hunter crouched and dipped his head, making his intentions perfectly clear.

Devcon felt rather than saw Kup’s spark begin to pulse through the cracks in his outer armor. Out of curiosity he did turn on his optics for a nano-second to see the color: a warm, dark green. He smiled and powered his optics back down. He traced his tongue slowly over the descending plates of Kup’s midsection until it bumped against his lower armor. Devcon turned up his audios as Kup began to moan and shake.

Kup felt just the smallest twinge of indignation as Devcon began to lick at his lower armor because this specific technique was normally only used on unsure females - but it felt so good he wasn’t about to stop it. He tightened up as the glossa slipped around the joint at his hip- the incredibly sensitive joint. His mouth fell open and he squeezed Devcon’s shoulder so tight the joint groaned. His core thrummed wildly as Devcon’s glossa pulled away and found the now open panel. His optics fizzed out as the glossa got closer... closer...

Devcon focused almost entirely on his taste receptors as he circled the tip of his tongue around the entrance of Kup’s valve. The taste of dark oils was present, but it was masked by a sweet, almost tangy taste which settled in the back of Devcon’s throat. His shoulders almost began to ache as Kup’s grip got tighter and tighter - but he was determined now. He reached up and placed a palm on Kup’s midsection, bracing the other against the inside of Kup’s left thigh. He tried to calm his core, thrumming in anticipation, but as he slipped his tongue off the rim and onto one of the hot, pliable sides, it only increased the thrumming.

Kup let out a long, low growl as Devcon’s glossa just kept going. Having never been on the receiving end of such attention he had no idea what to expect, and was shocked motionless at the sensation. He had expected Devcon’s glossa to be warm, hot even, but it wasn’t - it was lukewarm, almost cold. Then, as he wasted precious nano-seconds on thought, he realized that it wasn’t cold - his valve was just so hot it seemed that way. As if sensing his wandering thoughts, Devcon brought him back to the present by removing his glossa and blowing a thin stream of swelteringly hot air directly into his valve opening.

Devcon winced as Kup jerked, managing to kick the bounty hunter in the side. Without waiting for Kup to recover, Devcon sucked quickly on two of his fingers, wetting them with condensation. He then stood back up straight, pressing his chestplate to Kup’s, and slowly pressed his fingers into the Autobots valve. He powered up his optics for the reaction and his core continued to thrum powerfully.

Kup let his helm fall backwards as he was suddenly invaded. His mouth fell open as two strong emotions battled for control. One was humiliation: He had never switched for anyone before and it almost made him feel underestimated and un-respected. However this was over shone by an overwhelming lust. He suddenly craved more! He knew immediately that he would not be satisfied with Devcon’s fingers, but could not yet admit to himself that what he wanted was Devcon’s piece - hard, fast and everything but gentle.

Devcon continued to smile wickedly as Kup rocked his hips into the bounty hunter’s fingers, seeking more. He spread the two digits into a ‘v’ so that he made contact with two of the valve walls, and began thrusting them in and out slowly, driving his partner towards lubrication. He watched Kup’s mouth fall open invitingly, and carefully slid two of his fingers from his free hand into the opening. He was pleasantly surprised when Kup bit down on them roughly, condensation beginning to stream slowly from the corners of his lips. The bounty hunter moaned softly as Kup began to play with the penetrating fingers using the tip of his tongue.

Kup, despite being totally overwhelmed by new and indescribable sensations, kept a mental tally on how many times he would have to pay Devcon back. The situation made him feel so utterly humiliated that, had it not felt so slagging amazing, he would have terminated Devcon at least twice over by now. As it was he could only rock into Devcon’s fingers, suck on the others in completely unabashed lust, and moan. His faceplate was scarlet with hot energon and his optics wouldn’t have been able to function even if he’d wanted them to. His mainframe was so wrapped up in processing the attention being given to his valve that it would not be able to handle the visual input on top of that. He let out a whine, muffled by Devcon’s fingers, as he felt a strange new release catching up on him. He barely resisted the urge to pull his legs closed as his valve finally began lubricating.

Devcon pulled a face as his fingers were suddenly covered in a hot and annoyingly sticky fluid - clearly emphasizing that Kup had never switched before, seeing as how the more one lubricated the less ‘sticky’ the lubrication became. He slowly removed his fingers, and then used them to spread the lubricant around the seam of Kup’s exposed lower panel. He felt Kup stiffen and looked up, pulling his fingers out of the Autobot’s mouth.

~What?~ He panted, and even his comm. voice sounded strained.

~I- uh...~ Kup stammered, turning his helm away, even though his optics were still powered down.

~Kup, what?~

~I’ve never...~

~I can tell.~

~I don’t...~

~It’s painless.~

~Permanent?~

~Sigma no. I’ll even switch it back when we’re done.~ Devcon did not receive an answer over comm., instead he felt the Autobot relax, and figured that was the only confirmation he would get.

Devcon took his time in making sure he thoroughly wet the entire surface of the lower panel before placing his palm between the small, empty opening which concealed Kup’s piece. He then gripped his thumb inside the moist valve, the index finger into the empty hole, pressed his palm inward gently, and rotated. The panel stubbornly refused to budge at first, making Devcon turn a little harder. Unfortunately when it still continued to refuse he tried even harder, and it snapped into its new position, startling Kup so badly he let out a shout, balled a fist, and bunched Devcon square in the jaw. Devcon stepped backwards quickly, holding his hands up with lubrication dripping down one arm.

~Woah.~ He comm.ed calmly.

~Sorry. I-I just wasn’t expectin’ that... Ingrained uh, reflexes, y’know?~ Kup sounded genuinely apologetic, though thoroughly ruffled.

~Right.~ Devcon stepped back up, then paused. ~You sure you’re really ok with this, Autobot?~

~Yeah. I mean, not really, but uh - I lost to you, and, well, I’m too revved up to stop now. So, uh... I just won’t be making a habit out of it...~

Kup frowned a little as Devcon closed the gap between them, placing one hand on his hip joint, the other on his thigh. He felt the bounty hunter hesitate, and Kup sighed. He placed one hand on Devcon’s helm, the other on his shoulder.

~If you’re gonna do this: Do it right. I’m not some weepy floozy - so don’t treat me like one.~

Devcon chuckled verbally and tightened his grip.

~Alright.~

Kup’s optics flashed white for half a nano-second before blinking out again as he was penetrated. The pain was brief, registering only at the initial thrust, and then there was nothing but pleasure. The piece hit every inch of Kup’s valve walls, and it was colder than ice. He felt his systems lock-up momentarily only to be jarred back online by a chill of gratification as it coursed through his chassis. He let out a long, low moan.

Devcon too froze at the initial contact, joints locking up as he experienced (for the first time in his function cycle) a valve which had never before been penetrated. The pressure was immense, pulsing and hot. His core practically cooed as it’s thrumming increased, vibrating his whole body. His fingers dug so deeply into Kup’s leg and hip that he could almost feel the metal crack in protest - but Kup had urged him not to be gentle. He pulled out slowly with a growl of anticipation.

The feeling of being penetrated was matched only by the sensation of the pull-out and Kup felt relief wash over him when he remembered Devcon’s optics were offline and the bounty hunter would not be able to see the face he made. He had never experienced such blissful, aching, indescribable friction, and every inch of him wanted more. As Devcon prepared for re-entry, Kup braced himself on the edge of the counter and slammed his hips forward to meet the bounty hunter’s thrust. The clang of metal-on-metal was matched by a shout from Devcon as his piece was fully enveloped in the hot, pliable walls of the valve.

The bounty hunter growled before tripling his pace. His thrusts began denting the edge of the counter, and Kup’s back began to do the same to the back wall. He eventually slid both hands to Kup’s hip joint, pulling him closer for each thrust. He almost had the presence of processor to laugh as Kup wrapped his legs over Devcon’s waist, further pulling them together. Devcon’s spark began to vibrate in anticipation.

Kup had impressive stamina where bondmating was concerned, but this was going to own him in no time flat. His competitive streak had been all but obliterated when he’d been penetrated, but he still felt the urge to catch Devcon as off-guard as possible. Using his legs as leverage he wrapped both arms around Devcon’s neck and hoisted himself off the counter. Unfortunately it appeared Devcon was not prepared to handle the shift in their weight.

Devcon stumbled backwards as he attempted to urge his legs into actually working, but his mainframe was completely engrossed in the act of bonding. His equilibrium gauge couldn’t keep up and his back slammed into the far wall: hard. His feet suddenly slipped from under him and he found himself slowly grating down the wall, making a horrible racket as metal scraped against metal. Eventually he found himself sitting on the floor with Kup in his lap.

~Ha!~ Kup cried triumphantly, panting. ~Now this is more like it!~

Kup’s faceplate broke into a grin as he moved his hands to pin the momentarily stunned Devcon’s arms to his side, and began riding him. It was atrociously beyond dignified, and certainly not something Kup would ever want to be caught doing, but now he could focus on finding out what felt good. Devcon started moaning in something between frustration and pleasure, but didn’t struggle to reinstate himself in the more dominant position. Kup suppressed a moan.

~O-oooh...~ Devcon purred, helm falling back as Kup took the lead. ~Pri-himus...~ His core and spark began to match thrumming with pulsing and he couldn’t concentrate: Couldn’t think at all! All he knew was that his piece was wrapped tightly in the warm, moist valve, and in this new position every time Kup almost let him pull out he was privy to a succulent sucking sensation the likes of which he did not think he’d feel again. He relaxed everything that he could relax and focused all his energy on his piece, enjoying being simultaneously dominant and submissive. It was a unique experience, to say the least.

Kup knew he was finished. The moment he took the mantle he’d been able to pleasure himself, and knowing best how to do that, he’d reached his end quick. His optics once again powered up into a white nothingness before shutting down. Every circuit in his wiring spasmed with the pressure of a massive surge of energon. His piece, still concealed within his lower panel, jerked slightly and released its thin stream of fluid. The liquid would simply be absorbed back into his panel walls.

Devcon would have lasted a little while longer, if Kup’s valve walls wouldn’t have tensed, spasmed and clenched during the Autobot’s overload. The bounty hunter didn’t even attempt to hold back or control himself as he overloaded, firing a slightly thinner stream than his partner into the quivering valve. The fluid simply leaked out with the remaining lubricant.

The bounty hunter felt Kup relax, his hold on Devcon’s arms loosening. He pulled one hand free, reached down and snapped Kup’s panel back into black roughly.

“Bastard.” Kup rasped.

“Scrap-heap.” Devcon responded breathlessly.

Transformers Armada Flick

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:31:01 GMT

A short Armada based Fic.

Minicons amuse me.

“He will not! ”

“Yes he will!”

“You think I don’t know my own leader!?” Starscream hissed, pointing across the table at Optimus Prime. “You think I , Starscream, don’t know Megatron ? He! Will! Not! ” He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it against the table-top. Sparkplug and Swindle, currently engaged in a staring contest to echo the animosity between their large partners, jumped slightly but did not break.

“I have known Megatron far longer than you, Starscream. I am confident he will answer.”

“You may have known him longer, old man ,” the gathered Autobot spectators all gasped, “but I know him better !”

Swindle let out a mighty beep, stepped forward, and shoved Sparkplug in the chest. The yellow Mini-con stumbled, then gaped as he recovered at the red bot.

“Megatron will not be able to resist such a challenge. He will answer the transmission and fall right into our trap.”

Sparkplug stepped up and shoved Swindle back. The red con beeped, shocked and flashed his optics.

“He will see through your trap! He will recognize you as the fools-you-are!”

Spurred on by the angry voice of his partner, and out of ideas, Swindle leapt forward and tackled Sparkplug. The feisty yellow bot could not throw off his attacker so he used the momentum to roll them across the table.

“Hey!” Hotshot dashed forward and pushed both Optimus and Starscream back with a hand on each of their chests. “Check out the Mini-cons!”

“What?” Optimus muttered.

“Huh...?” Starscream and Optimus, along with the other present Autobots, turned to watch as the two Mini-cons formed an almost orange mass on the table. Eventually they came to a stop and it was soon revealed that Swindle had the upper hand. The red Mini-con was seated atop Sparkplug, pounding his tiny fists into the other bot’s faceplate.

“Starscream!” Hotshot cried. “Get a hold of your Mini-con!”

Starscream narrowed his optics but reached out anyway, wrapping his hand gently around the offending Mini-con. As he pulled Swindle off Sparkplug the red Mini-con continued to kick and punch at the air. Starscream shook him gently to gain his attention.

“Swindle, what is the meaning of this?” He barked. The angry, momentarily suspended Mini-con began pounding the air again, beeping wildly. The Autobots looked at each other, unable to understand the Decepticon-trained Mini-con.

“He did?” Starscream cocked his head to one side and regarded Sparkplug, who had taken up a defiant stance at the edge of the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

The once Decepticon narrowed his optics further and leaned over. Then, under the watchful optics of Optimus Prime and his over-eager warriors, he aimed his finger and flicked the small yellow bot point blank in the chest. He held his bent posture to watch the Mini-con sail through the air, Swindle humming in laughter.

He was then immediately tackled by Hotshot, Scavenger, Red Alert, Smokescreen and Blurr.

Dual Part Three

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:30:14 GMT

Part three, unfinished as of now.

Swindle and Thrust.

Disturbing Imagery.

Thrust powered down his vocals for a few moments as he entered his lab. He laid the Mini-con on his table and, carefully, peeled back the cable just enough to free up a limb long enough for him to secure it to the table. Eventually Swindle was completely restrained by straps made of the same Ore13 material, one on each arrm and leg.

Switching his hand back onto the end of his arm, Thrust tapped the fingers of his right against the table rythmically, thinking. How to begin? He tilted his helm a little and ran his optics over the various tools lined up and ready. He looked back at Swindle and flared his optics at him. Perhaps - he could play for a moment first.

"Tell me, pet, how is Starscream fairing? Are the Autobots treating him nicely?" He reached out to scrape lightly at Swindle's chest plate with a fingernail, almost bored as he rested his elbow on the table and his chin in the attached hand.

Swindle, for a moment, said nothing, but struggled when he could, as each limb was freed in turn, only to be restrained again by the same strange energy that had paralyzed him before. He shuddered under Thrust's sharp finger ends.

"Scrap you." he managed to say even through the paralysis with much effort.

Thrust frowned, though it was hard to see through his mask. He let the tip of his finger rest against the center of Swindle's chest piece.

"Now now now, Swindle, that is no way to talk to your master. I would think, that being in your position, you would have the sense to show your manners. Then again," he looked away, as if thoughtful, "you were activated into Starscream's command... it's only fitting that you would exhibit the same senslessness in the face of your betters. Honestly, with your very spark on the line I would think you would be able to go against you primary systems and plead for you life." He turned his optics back towards the Mini-con. "Foolish pet." He pressed his finger down and began to make a small hole in Swindle's outer armor with his nail.

There was no hesitation in Swindle's voice, even through his fear.

"Starscream is Swindle's master! and...Thrust is NOT Swindle's better!" Swindle paused, his breathing labored and heavy, clearly struggling to keep his core temperature down in the face of such, imminent torture.

"Swindle will never beg YOU for anything!" He added, though his vocals were shaky now. He felt the agonizingly slow piercing of his chestplate and swallowed the urge to cry out. His core pulsed strongly in longing for his bond-master and in fear. He beeped low, unable to hold back completely, but glad for the fact that not all minicon language was translatable into Cybertronian.

Thrust felt his core thrum once, heavily as he recognized rising fear in the Mini-con's beeping. He made no physical sign of his enjoyment, however. He continued to press his finger inward until he felt hot energon seep up through the hole from around his nail and begin to drip down the Mini-con's chest peice. He smiled a little.

"Your armor is deceptively thin, Swindle." He cooed, wiping his finger on a small cloth nearby. He scanned his equipment for a moment before selecting a strange, almost non-threatening piece. It looked like a screw-driver.. mostly. Except the end could clearly be extended, and it was not entirely rigid, either, flopping from side to side in an almost comical way as Thrust began adjusting a few pieces of the tool.

Swindle shook visibly for a moment in response to the leaking hole now in the middle of his chestpiece. He clamped his vocal component closed and made not a sound, though his whole body, his very spark screamed at him to cry out, to release the pain in some way. He attempted to struggle once more, but was met with the same frustrating inability to move any part of himself. He could not resist another comm to his larger partner, more out of desperation to do something more than anything else.

Thrust raised an optic ridge against the pointed tip of his low helm as he watched the mini-con struggle... silently. He cocked his head to one side, still holding his unusual piece of equipment in the air almost as a nurse would hold a needle.

"No reason to get so pushy," he said with a click of his glossa, "we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other before I shut you down manually to remove your parts." He chuckled to himself and finished calibrating the instrument before looking back towards the mini-con. He reached out with a foot and hooked his ankle around the lowest rung on a nearby stool, pulling it over and sitting himself down comfortably.

"I hear you've spent some time with the humans, Swindle," he continued as if doing nothing more than a regular tune-up, "I believe they would liken this sensation to - something crawling beneath their skin." He lowered the tool to the hole in Swindle's chestplate, still dripping energon. The rubbery-like tip shot out a few low powered electrical jolts to the area around the hole and effectively smoothed over the jagged edges. It seemed to be a living object somehow, squirming at the end of the handle as if looking for something just underneath the mini-con's chestplate.

"Try not to fight this too much.. I'd hate to have it damage you prematurely." Thrust warned, and his concern was genuine. If his pet was damaged at this stage in the game, there would be little left to do.

Swindle, still immobile and unable to struggle tried his best to lock up his inner workings, like a human would tense a muscle. It was a desperate attempt to keep his private things private. No one, was supposed to, was allowed to see that part of him, that much he knew and especially not Thrust! He struggled to keep silent, not to speak, or cry out, or hum, or whine. No, Starscream would not utter a sound and neither would he! But, as he scanned downward with just his optics he felt his spark pulse and the pulse radiated through his body causing and involuntary shudder, a shaking he couldn't control through his frame. Fear. He had to do something. He couldn't move, but if he just lay here, he would go out of his processor before he got through this...before Starscream came to save him or....

"Get scrapped!" he shouted as venomously as he could at the creepy scientist. It was the only thing he could think to say really, but the little defiance, the only bit of control he had felt good.

"When Swindle gets free, he and Starscream will terminate you!" he continued, latching on to the only thing he had.

Thrust chuckled again and tipped the handle upwards. The small and almost living protrusion pushed it's way into the small opening in Swindle's chestpiece. The almost rubbery material became more like a goo as it slid through the hole and into the inner wiring beneath. It's tip - like the head of a worm, turned in a slow circle before splitting and sending lightning quick tendrils out and under the mini-con's plating. The handle vibrated and hummed in Thrust's hand as the tendrils explored every link and connection which tied Swindle's outer armor to his bare protoform, sending quick readings out into the small data chip within the handle.

"So intriguing." Thrust cooed, reading the data as it was stored. "So like our selves and yet - so unique and different."

The tendrils, now two or three throughout each limb and numerous ones wrapped throughout the midsection, quivered and shot backwards into their original rubbery head and then withdrew completely back into the handle. Thrust chuckled again to himself and spun the object between two fingers.

The resolve Swindle had to remain silent was wavering. He felt the probe within him, within every inch of his frame and his breathing hitched uncomfortably finding it harder and harder to take cooling breaths. If he kept this up, he would overheat! No, he had to stay concious so that he could continue to try to contact Starscream. He felt the tendrils wrap around parts of him that sent so many mixed sensations to his central processor that it was hard to hold onto a though, let alone continue yelling at his captor. He shut down his optics for a moment, his whole body concentrating on somehow ejecting the intruder within itself, somehow without moving, fighting the odd probe. He felt his insides shudder as the probe suddenly withdrew. His optics flashed on in triumph. Though it was short lived as he realized the tool had retracted on it's own.

Thrust turned his optics to watch the Mini-con and chuckled.

"Thought you'd won, mm? Not likely my little Swindle." He tenderly laid the instrument on the table and placed his palm over the mini-con's chest, stroking a thumb just under Swindle's chin lovingly.

"You see, I'm a very lucky Decepticon. I've had multiple opportuinties to disect and study you and your little friends since you've been awakened. I even had a chance to get my fingers into Leader One and Sparkplug - though the later was unsatisfyingly short lived. Your new Autobot allies don't like to waste time, do they?" He tipped Swindle's head up with his thumb and traced the nail over the main fuel line in the Mini-con's neck testingly.

"Primus seems to be on my side today, however. Everyone knows Starscream is too much a coward to attempt a resuce mission.. even to save his own mini-con. Tsk."

Swindle could not help the reaction he spark gave as Thrust mentioned Sparkplug. It pulsed brightly even as Swindle tried to stop it. If only he'd had more practice with keeping those reactions at bay, but even Starscream couldn't seem to tell him how to eliminate them completely. He tensed his insides and immediately the light behind his optics flared.

"Starscream is no coward! He will come and Thrust will not survive! Even if Swindle g-goes offline, Starscream will still deactivate Thrust! Pull out his spark and show it to him!" he spat, his time with the decepticon seeker clearly showing in his graphic and vulgar choice of words.

Thrust laughed. He tossed back his helm and laughed a deep, whirring mechanical laugh. Giving his fit a moment to die he looked back down at the mini-con and pat Swindle's head affectionately.

"You've got so much spunk, my little one!" He then curved a nail into the hole and pried off Swindle's chest piece with a rather abrupt lack of patience and care. He lifted it to his optics and held it between thumb and forefinger before setting it down on the table opposite his vast array of equipment. He looked back down at the mini-con and arched and optic ridge.

"Mm, interesting." He reached out and rubbed the ball of a finger over the casing on Swindle's spark - applying as little pressure as possible. "It appears that not all mini-cons have a second line of defense against attack here." Leaving his finger in place over Swindle's spark, Thrust drew his optics to his equipment.

"Your new leader Sparkplug had another set of armor specifically aligned over his spark. Seems there was something more important within his chambers than within yours, my little engine."

Swindle's spark pulsed violently, forcefully. It was a combination of anger and the empty sinking feeling that Thrust had pried into Sparkplug in this very same way. He attempted to dim his light, but the barrage of feelings, mostly rage, that were assaulting his central processor made it harder and harder to control himself. His core let out a whining hum as he felt the gentle pressure on his spark chamber. No, this was not right. Only Sparkplug and Starscream were allowed to... He felt a heat rise under his faceplate and a wash of shame. He couldn't keep his spark away from his tormentor. Even Sparkplug had armor to shield his spark specifically! How could he ever meet optics with Sparkplug...with Starscream again after Thrust had seen...had violate his very spark itself.

He made a sound that was almost like a mechanical growling. His indignance was beginning to be outweighed by his worry and shame, but he latched onto it so that he could continue to be angry. Anger powered him, kept him going...as if did for Starscream.

"Spa-arkplug has nothing Swindle doesn't have!" he shouted, hoping Thrust ignored the way he stuttered the minicon leader's name.

Thrust made a strange sound, a gurgling sound and looked back to the Minicon before abandoning his equipment.

"My my." He cooed, placing his elbows on the table on either side of Swindle, removing his hand from the red 'con's spark. "You know, you may just be unique yet my little toy." He folded his hands over the minicon and rested his chin between them, grinning behind his mask. "You're very easy to read, just like your foolhardy Starscream. You give away your deepest, darkest secrets without my having to lift a finger." He pointed upwards with a finger and laughed again, mostly at himself. He leaned his head into his left hand and lowered his right back to the minicon.

"Perhaps I should bring you and Starscream closer, hmm?" He offered, tracing a sharp fingernail through the exposed wires coiling over Swindle's chest. "Megatron loved to humilate him. Shame him. Degrade him. Doesn't seem like you've had any of those experiences." He raised an optic ridge. "Perhaps I should let you experience these things, mm? Humilation... shame ... Why - maybe I can make you beg like Sparkplug begged! Does it unnerve you to know that even your leader could not withstand my prying fingers? That he begged and pleaded with me to stop?"

Something in the way Thrust had spoken to him, something about the placement of his finger barely touching the cords and wires in his chest, his spark chamber made everything inside Swindle quake in an almost painful kind of way even though the larger decepticon was barely touching him. His eyes flashed. Starscream had never spoken about his...time with Megatron, but sharing a bond with him, Swindle knew. Nothing specific, but he knew the feelings, he knew the shame and the deep sense of twisted longing and simultaneous hatred. The little red minicon was torn. He wanted to be able to withstand the same amount of pain as his partner, he wanted to be that strong....but he did not want those feelings! He did not want the shame he was already beginning to feel.

As Thrust mentioned Sparkplug again, Swindle's spark pulsed again, like clockwork. He was so preoccupied with thoughts and worries now that he couldn't even try to stop the reaction. Another reaction to Thrust's words was just as immediate, and almost just as involuntary.

"Thrust is a liar, Sparkplug would not beg! S-Sparkplug never beg you!" He said, surprising even himself with the statement.

"I lie, do I?" Thrust mused, reaching up to pop a nail between Swindle's lips forcefully. "Would you like me to show you?" He pressed the nail to the minicon's glossa and held it there, waiting for Swindle to bite him. With the other hand he slid a finger up Swindle's leg slowly, pressing it against the minicon's lower pannel with intent.

"I could link our relays for the briefest of moments, minicon, and let you witness yourself how Sparkplug begged. How he cried out and thrashed beneath my hands. I record all of my sessions, it's a pity Megatron does not do the same. I have heard tell of the noises he forces out of your Starscream." Thrust leaned close and narrowed his optic scope. "I will hear those noises from you before your parts line my walls."

Swindle was confused for a moment at what Thrust might be doing. He felt hot, angry energon flow through him, internal fans whirring louder as his temperature rose. He, predictably, bit down hard on Thrust's finger. It was the only thing he really could do and maintain his dignity. He couldn't answer him, or shout defiant exclamations at him, so he bit.

His core screamed at him, wailing almost at the thought of Sparkplug in this position. What if Thrust was right, what could the Decepticon have done to make someone as strong as Sparkplug beg, scream? NO! No...he would never....

Swindle's optics widened as he felt the sharp talon-like finger linger against his lower panel. He seemed to freeze up for a second as he finally realized what Thrust planned to do. He tried in vain to push himself against the table, pull away from Thrust's prying fingers. He still could not move. He sent out frantic comms. to his partner who was too far away...something about it was comforting, he had to try.

Thrust sneered behind his mask and removed both hands suddenly from the minicon. He shuffled through his equipment for a moment before selecting a very small tool. He set to work and quickly sliced a hole in Swindle's helm, near his left audial receptor. He jabbed an impossibly small wire into the circuitry there and as he attatched it to the hidden piece of equipment, the last of Swindle's frantic com. to Starscream was blared over an open channel. Thrust smiled and powered down his optics.

"How sweet." He said swiftly. "Nothing lost between us, Swindle. No. You are now mine to play with - mine to explore and exploit - mine to know."

Swindle stopped the comm abruptly though it did not hide any of what he was saying. He would not have him hearing anymore than he had already. He felt the hot energon rise behind his faceplate in embarrassment and shame. The front he put up could not equal the rampant fear that ran through his processor and now Thrust knew it. The smallish minicon attempted to pull at his bonds, but the material, whatever it was, held him fast and he could not bring his limbs to respond and pull at the cords. Swindle did not say anything for a long moment.

"Thrust m-may know Swindle's mind, but never know Swindle's spark!" He shouted, but did not sound half as convinced as he wanted to.

"You severely underestimate me, Mini-con." Thrust growled, letting the statement hang. He moved both hands to the lower portion of the minicon and studied him for a moment before proceeding. Using the forefinger and thumb on each hand he snapped the main tension cables in Swindle's legs, rendering them immobile but not paralyzed. He then pressed a finger to the top of his pelvic frame and pried a nail from his other hand into the seam of the mini-con's lower pannel. He wiggled it until he felt the cables hidden beneath, and then pulled backwards. Like the lid on a can he pulled off the door on Swindle's lower pannel and set it aside. He leaned forward and clicked open his mask so that he could breath a long, hot breath into the exposed area of the mini-con.

"I could destroy you so easily." He purred.

Swindle could not hold back. He tried to tense his legs, he tried to move away. His legs refused to work, and he was beginning to panic. He felt the invading finger as if hovered, then scraped at his lower panel, slipping underneath. He remembered briefly when Starscream showed him how to trick his panel into thinking it was bonding. He remembered the signs of abuse that were apparent on the seeker's parts. He shuddered. This was the kind of thing Megatron had done to him. He had no idea the kind of...invasion.

Finally, his vocal components could not remain locked any longer. He let out a mechanical sounding series of sounds that could only be a whining yell of protest or pain, the source was unclear. As the protective covering popped off the whine became sharp and loud. The breath there, terrible and wonderful and scalding hot made Swindle quiver and his spark thrum dully. He could not hold it in entirely. To his horror, he felt the now familiar tingling sensation in his lower parts as the pain of having his cap popped off subsided. He exerted all his control not to feel that sensation, not to give in to the physical temptations that the hot air stimulated.

Thrust lifted his head and watched the Minicon impassively. The language of the minicons would be forever lost on his highly advanced processor, but he could guess what Swindle was feeling. He chuckled a little and clicked his glossa on the roof of his mouth. His lips parted to reveal a jagged set of golden teeth-like parts, filed to sharp points.

"Feels wonderful, doesn't it?" He cawed, his voice no longer thin and restrained with his mask regulator gone. His vocal components were now free to resume their usual hiss and grind. A frightening sound. Without warning Thrust reached up and snapped a large cable on Swindle's chest, watching as it leaked energon into the open chest cavity around the spark. He then moved and sliced a long gash into the minicon's right forearm. He leaned forward afterwards and traced his wet glossa around the opening of Swindle's small valve.

Dual Part Two

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:29:26 GMT

Part two, unfinished as of now.

Hotrod and the Sweeps.

WARNING: Sexual content

Hotrod snarled and continued to struggle in spite of his warning.

"You think I'm-I'm just going to give up!? You're a bigger bunch of idiots than I thought!" He flared his optics before powering them down and attempting to transform... only to endure a rather painful grinding in the back of his neck before remembering that his transformation cog had been disabled. As had his weapons. He arched and attempted to focus all his energy on his right hand, pulling with all his might to free it. Fear and panic began to wail in the back of his central processor no matter how hard he tried to ignore them. He just - he had to think like Kup and Prime and - and Magnus...

Scourge shook his head.

"No, not really, but i felt it was my duty to tell you anyway." He said, chuckling a little, even as he struggled against the rather strong, he must admit, autobot warrior. The sweeps were having the same difficulty and, as the autobot pooled his power into his right arm, he flung a sweep backwards. Scourge immediately grabbed for the arm, as did one of his men.

"Hold him you useless heaps!" The sweep quickly recovered and was on Hotrod again, keeping him steadily held now. Scourge jerked his head backwards and him, and the sweeps, rose to their feet with Hotrod held between them. They started down the hall, dragging their captive with them.

Hotrod let his helm fall backwards and powered down his optics, seeming to give up for the time being. There was no way he would be able to fight off four Decepticons while being carried like this - he would just have to swallow his fear and wait. They would eventually have to set him down, right? Eventually they'd have to release him in order to restrain him... It only made sense. He'd make his move then. It sounded like a good, solid plan to him - or maybe he was just telling himself that. His core let out a low, mournful whine and he almost blushed. He hated that he still couldn't regulate his core to the extent of his age-mates. He was sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that Bumblebee would never let a sound like that escape him in the face of torture. His optics powered back up.

'Primus, give me strength.'

Scourge felt Hotrod relax in his arms but did not let his guard down. With the way he was fighting a moment ago, the chances of him giving in so quickly were slim and none. He held fast and prepared himself for when the autobot might begin struggling again. If they were caught off guard, he might have a chance of wiggling free. And they couldn't have that. The odd group made their way down several halls until they came to a slow in front of a door. One of the sweeps with a free hand input a code in a pin pad and the door slid open quickly. They walked inside with Hotrod. In the room was a plethora of equipment, the uses of which could not be easily determined at a glance. For someone who knew a little about decepticon torture, however, they might be more recognizable.

Hotrod powered his optics back up just in time to get an up-side-down view of the room. He stiffened and balled his hands into fists to refrain from loosing his cool. He was an Autobot. He was a trained warrior a-a fighter. He could do this. How many times had Kup been captured and tortured? He'd made it back every time, it only made him stronger. Magnus too, Hotrod thought, had been captured once or twice - and each time had managed to lead a full scale escape. One time he even convinced the Junkions captured with him to help! ... But Hotrod didn't have an army of Junkions. He didn't even have the Mini-con anymore. He felt his chassis shudder and he tightened his cables in preparation.

Scourge led the little group inside the room and motioned the rest toward a study-looking chair in the middle of the room. With a little maneuvering, the sweeps and their leader began to shift Hotrod into the chair. it was covered in restraints and looked as though it could move into different positions with a set of controls on a nearby console. Finally getting him into a sitting position, the sweeps held his shoulders down firmly while Scourge began to fasten the restraints which seemed to be made from a very solid metal, some kind of steel alloy, dense and heavy.

"Don't let all the equipment in here frighten you autobot, i like to do things more the...old fashioned way. I'm a hands-on kind of guy. It's really the mini-con you ought to worry about...that Thrust is a piece of work..."

"Get scrapped!" Hotrod hissed before spitting at Scourge. He balled his hands into fists and leaned from one side to the other in an attempt to free his arms and legs. He slowed a bit as he heard the warning and narrowed his optic scope at the leader of the sweeps.

"What do you mean?" He hissed. "What's he going to do to Swindle?" He felt his core hum deep within his midsection, knotting his surrounding cables in worry. The little red mini-con was most certainly not his favorite of the little bots, but he didn't want the Decepticons to rip him to shreds either. He and Starscream had, well, kind of switched sides now.. which almost made them Autobots. Hotrod chanced a glance around the room and instantly powered down his optics and bit back a whine upon seeing some of the scattered equipment.

Scourge pulled back from the spit, smiling. Oh good, he hoped the little autobot hadn't really lost his fight yet. He cocked his head. He didn't realy expect the young bot to take him seriously and really be more worried about the minicon than himself. He looked around as if to assure himself that he had taken him to the correct room. He had. It was just the 'way of the autobots' he supposed. A bit foolish if you asked him. But oh well.

"Swindle? The minicon? Oh well, Thrust's a scientist type, fascinated by things unknown...or whatever. I assume he'll take him apart. But slowly, keep him online for as long as possible. That's just how he works. Sadistic bastard. He wants to...learn about the minicons, or so he says. I just think it's an excuse to do...well, i won't go into details." He felt a bump against his back and glanced over his shoulder at an eager sweep. Scourge glared at the aerial 'con and he shrunk back a little.

"You, on the other hand, are in for a different kind of fun." He said, smiling. He could hear the sweeps shifting behind him.

"If he terminates that mini-con," Hotrod started, optics focusing on one of the sweeps and then darting to another in near-panic, "Optimus Prime will rip off his faceplate and feed it to the Dinobots!" He moved his optics back to Scourge and scowled deeply at the Decepticon, his optics focusing on his smirk.

He attempted to arch away from the chair, but he had little room to play with and it got him nowhere. He gripped the armrests tight enough to dent them under his fingertips and tried to stand. His arm joints groaned and his aft hit the chair hard. He powered down his optics to think and reform a plan. His spark was pulsing frantically, energon running through his wires thin and fast. He should com. the other Autobots - no, no that wouldn't work. They wouldn't be within transmission range and even if they were it would be selfish to do such a thing. They knew he was a prisoner - they didn't need to know he was about to be tortured.

Scourge actually laughed at this.

"That idealistic fool doesn't have the ballbearings for such an act." he informed Hotrod, not bothering to tighten the restraints as the autobot pulled against them in vain. He was entirely confident that he could not escape the chair and it showed in his faceplate. He took a step forward.

"Like i said autobot, he will keep him alive for as long as he can, but he is twisted in the central processor, even i can't predict what exactly he'll do to the minicon." He turned to lookat the sweeps briefly. They fanned out on the silent signal and reformed around the chair, a sweep on all sides.

"Now, i think it best to focus on the business at hand. I will need from you all the Teletrann I security codes and the frequency the autobots use to contact Cybertron."

Hotrod powered up his optics and tilted his helm frantically in each direction as the sweeps surrounded him on all sides. He forced himself to regulating his cooling, hunching his shoulders upwards and tensing his cables manually as he counted to breathe in and out like a mantra. It didn't help. His core still churned, his lower cords knotted and his spark pulsed so frantically it hurt. He looked up at Scourge and grinned in defiance, though his voice was distorted by his worrying gears and gyros.

"You - you think I'm just g-gonna spill? J-just like that? It's gonna t-take more than that t-to get me to give you anything." He narrowed his optic scope and quickly added. "I won't tell you a slaggin' thing you freak."

Scourge shrugged in a oddly human way.

"Meh, it was worth a try. But you know i'm glad you refused, like i knew you would. This would be no fun if you just told me stuff." He said, hearing mumblings of agreement from his identical counterparts that were now flanking Hotrod on all sides.

"Ya know, information gathering is the highest priority, but i wouldn't have volunteered for this job if i didn't enjoy what i was doing." he leaned in and began the delicate job of removing the outer armor on Hotrod's left upper thigh. Each sweep took a piece of armor. Forearm, shoulder, and upper arm on the other side. They too began to remove the outer armor manually. They were surprisingly slow and gentle, deliberate. Scourge grinned. He wanted the autobot to feel every disconnection, every pinch and tug as he was slowly revealed and vulnerable.

Hotrod snarled and tried to move out of Scourge's grasp, but he was surrounded, and moving away from one meant moving into another. His optics flared and he began looking from each sweep to the other frantically as they began to remove his outer armor. No.. no this wasn't - they weren't supposed to - Kup and Ironhide, they'd been beaten through their outer armor! Prime too had damage only to his most outer layer...

Hotrod made a soft whine and powered down his optics at the sensation of so many hands on him at once. He turned his helm quickly and bit down on the hand of the sweep on his right upper arm. He clenched as hard as he could and pulled.

The sweep careened backwards, having expected anything but that from the autobot captive. He looked at his hand and the gouge there in shock.

"H-He bit me!" he stuttered, looking from the other sweeps to Scourge. The sweep leader sighed in an exasperated kind of way.

"Well, bite him back then you empty-headed bucket of spare parts if you are going to whine about it! Now get back to it and be more careful." he said before continuing his work.

"Now, i don't know what they teach you little ones in Decepticon 101, but i like to do things a little bit differently than my...predescessors. I find that the....feeling is more potent with the outer armor off. Now, we don't have the tools to remove autobot outer armor so...this might hurt...a lot." with that, he yanked the newly disconnected plate over Hotrod's leg. He waited a moment before nodding. One sweep after another pulled the pieces off...one at a time. The last one, the sweep at Hotrod's upper arm glared at the autobot and pulled very slowly before giving a sharp tug that sent even the sweep himself backwards with it's force.

Hotrod's optics remained locked on the sweep he'd bitten as the offender stumbled away. He snarled at him as he walked closer and then his helm shot towards Scourge as his last few words sunk in. He straightened in the chair in another attempt to move away from Scourge's hands but was unable to do so. He bit down on his glossa though his optics flared in pain. He managed to keep his vocal components off until the last sweep got his revenge for the hole in his hand. Hotrod's helm hit the back of the chair as he shouted in pain and powered down his optics. The fans near to his pauldrens whirred to life to keep his internal temperatures down. His chest heaved a moment.

Now that parts of Hotrod were explosed Scourge smiled.

"Don't worry autobot, we'll take it slow. You seem young...a mere child really. I'm sure you haven't experienced anything like this before in your short years." he chuckled to himself as he stepped closer to the young bot, leaning in close. Keeping Hotrod's attention focused on his faceplate as he spoke, he reached down with one hand and began to probe the wires and sensitive areas on the inside of the leg as he spoke, looking for the shock in the autobot's eyes. The sweeps stayed back for the moment, letting Scourge do the warmups.

Hotrod's optics immediately focused in on Scourge's as he leaned forward. He tried to look indignant, scowling though his chin quivered.

"I'm not a ch-child." He panted, clenching and unclenching his fists. He felt fingers at his legs and attempted to pull them inwards, lock his knees together, but he could not. He squirmed backwards as far as the chair would let him and as energon rose to his face plate his optics darted away from Scourge. He tried to lift his leg off the chair, digging his heel into the leg where he found purchase and attempting to push off it.

"I-I'm an Autobot." He said, powering down his optics as he tried to tell himself this, more than tell the Decepticons. "I'm stronger than the l-likes of you a-and you cannot break me!"

Scourge ignored the glares he was getting from his team as he let his fingers maneuver their way up the inside of Hotrod's leg. Yes, he knew he was starting the fun without them, but it was seldom he got to do anything without those twits following. They were a capable enough team sure, but sometimes he wondered if they ever had an original thought. He sent them a silent signal to stay back as he grazed Hotrod's lower panel, just the outside, inching towards the seams. He skirted the rim on one side and slipped a finger just barely around it.

"Yes, an autobot. An autobot child. And i am not concerned with 'breaking' you...child. I am just in this for...the entertainment. We don't get to do this a lot here. And quite frankly, this place is bloody boring when they aren't trying to kill each other." he let his finger slip around and underneath for the briefest of moments with a smirk.

Hotrod kept his optics forcefully powered down as he listened to Scourge's insults but they flared online without his consent as he felt Scourge's fingers in a place he never thought they would wander. His back slammed into the chair, his spoiler groaning at the contact and his optics remained wide and frightened on Scourge's face for a nanoclick before he looked shamefully away. That was it then? His core thrummed powerfully, his spark quivered and illuminated his open chestplating in a bright orange glow. He was a-a toy for them? Entertainment?

"Y-you're vile." He whispered attempting to steel himself against Scourge's wandering fingers to no avail. He jerked and squirmed with a hiss of breath.

Scourge shrugged where he leaned, on one knee now, in front of Hotrod. He was effectively wedged between the autobot's legs. He allowed his fingers to slide inside the lower panel, seam open on one side from where he'd removed the armor on Hotrod's thigh. They slid in quick, then out.

"Yeah, well, if i cared what an autobot thought of me, i wouldn't be decepticon, now would i?" he asked. His fingers, surprisingly nimble when he wished it, now slid around the lower panel, removing many of the same attachments as the other armor that had been taken off, slowly, carefully. Instead of making him open the old fashioned way, the intention of completely removing his protection altogether became clear after a moment or two of working.

One of the sweeps stepped forward against Scourge's command and, to prevent any further insults, began to occupy Hotrod's mouth with other...things. He ran a hand along the side of the autobot's face and lingered on his faceplate, his lips. He leaned forward.

"You bite me and i will scrap you myself." he popped a finger into Hotrod's mouth, other hand holding the autobot's head in place so that it could not be moved out of his grasp.

Hotrod arched away again from Scourge's hand shaking his head violently as fear slowly ate at his pride and resolve. He almost uttered a plea as he realized what the Decepticon was trying to do, but managed to bite it back at the last second, his vocal components whirring and then fading out. He lifted one leg off the chair and tried to pry Scourge away with his knee.

His faceplate lit up hotly as another sweep moved forward. His optics darted fearfully over the Decepticon's faceplate before meeting red optics and widening. He tried to turn his head but the sweep held fast. He shook his head as much as he could in his position and moved his glossa as if to push the probing finger out of his mouth.

Scourge chuckled to himself. He might regret this later, but, the sweep leader mused, Alpha had really been pissing him off the past couple of cycles and so, he deserved it. Without any warning, and the same amount of following pain as with the other armor removals, Scourge popped Hotrod's lower panel armor off quickly with a rough jerk. He watched to see if the autobot would do as he expected and bite the slag out of his alpha sweep. He looked down at Hotrod's most private parts and nodded to himself.

"Huh, you're younger than i thought." he said with a chuckle.

Hotrod's optics flashed white and then powered down as he shouted around the sweep's fingers in pain. He clamped his mouth shut and twisted his head back with all his might, his struggles resuming with full force.

Not like this, he cried hopelessly to himself, Primus not like this! His fans whirred more powerfully as his cooling breath stopped, his core thrumming in confusion. His body was suddenly so prone and bare. He ground his teeth over Alpha's fingers and continue to try and press his legs inward to remove Scourge from his position between them.

All his thoughts of Prime and Kup and Ironhide fled in an instant and his logic chip slipped to the back of his processor as his thoughts remained intimately focused on his exposed self.

Dual Part One

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:28:25 GMT

This is part one of a three part RP myself and my Loki did one night.

Part one is rather short, setting up the scene.

Thrust would have rolled his optics, had he the ability. It was an entirely human custom he found would have perfectly illustrated his feelings at that precise nanoclick. He settled for releasing a loud sigh of hot air and folding his hands carefully behind his back, regarding the verbally combatative figures of Galvatron and Megatron for only a moment more in silence before loosing his patience, and speaking up. He stepped forward.

"Excuse me, mighty ones..." He began, mouth hidden by a strange, triangular mask which clamped securely over his nose, seeing to it that only his optics were visible under his cone-shaped helm. He was quickly met with two nearly identical red stares as both the tyrants turned to glare at him, upset, perhaps, that he had interrupted their ceaseless bickering for a nanoclick.

"If it's not too much trouble, I had already laid claim to the Mini-con captive. As I am sure you are both aware, my specialty is that which we do not fully understand. Mini-cons are a perfect example of this. I can expertly withdraw much information from the small being without terminating him." This seemed to confuse the duo for a moment, but finally Galvatron spoke up.

"Yes! Of course!" He shouted, pumping a fist in the air. "Thrust - the Mini-con captive is yours to deal with."

Thrust gave a low bow.

"Thank you, my liege." Hearing Megatron start up an arguement, Thrust quickly turned on a thruster and left the 'throne room'. He would make a quick stop by his labrotory first, and then he would retrieve his new... playmate.

Scourge kept himself silent. In fact, he was almost beginning to think that Galvatron had forgotten he'd called the arial commander and his sweeps to his chamber to begin with. But neither he, nor his men were about to speak up in the middle of what appeared to be going on. Clash of the titans, neither of which were particularly sane, he decided to himself. He knew all too well that if he voiced his opinion at the wrong time, 'shooting the messanger' would be the first thing on both Tyrant's minds. And so, he remained silent, though his central processor soon began to wander to the captives, one in particular. While all this arguing was going on, he could be doing something useful. Well, something more useful than standing around looking pretty. He glanced over his shoulder and oneof the Sweeps gave him a meaningful look as if to say 'speak up already!' Sourge sighed and took a tentative step forward.

"My Lord. If i may?" He began, bracing himself with a slight wince at the response he might receive. "The other captive, My Sweeps could effectively deal with him if you would allow it."

~*~

Hotrod let his helm dip forward to connect with the wall one final time. His energy nearly exhausted he just let it hang, and eventually his arms fell to hang limply at his sides. It was no use. He'd been over their 'escape' in his central processor a hundred times... nothing. Each time he had a breakthrough his less-than-pleasant Mini-con companion stated condescendingly that there was no way that would work. He was not about to give up and accept his situation, but he couldn't think anymore. Maybe after a good night's recharge he'd- Who was he kidding?! Recharge?! While a POW!?

"Aahh... Primus." He muttered quietly in defeat.

Swindle rested his hands on his knee joints and took in breath rapidly trying to cool his internal systems. He had been ramming the force-field for nearly a day now and he was exhausted. He tried to think logically about the whole situation, but his need to be out of this place, his longing to be back with his bonded master made his actions irrational. And the idiotic plans of his autobot cell-mate only made things worse for him. His central processor screamed at him to be gone from this place. He sent frantic messaged to Starscream, though he knew full-well that the decepticon jet would not be able to hear or acknowledge him from in here. He caught his breath, cooling a little, beeping his frustration to himself.

"No way out of th-this...cell..." he panted, still on the verge of overheating for his vain efforts.

~*~

"FINE!" Galvatron and Megatron shouted in unison, glaring at Scourge and his 'clones'. They paused, then turned on each other and resumed shouting, pushing, and finger pointing. Thrust, meanwhile, had clicked on the light in his lab and was beginning to organize equipment he felt he would need to 'work' on the Mini-con. He grinned a derranged grin behind his mask as he began carefully, caressingly laying out his equipment. The Mini-cons were a never ending source of intrigue for the Decepticon 'scientist'. They had been, up until months ago, merely legend and now... he had the opportunity to get his hands on them. To dissect them, to inspect them, to find out everything he could about them. He had even begun harvesting parts and fluids from his previous Mini-con captives in order to create his own should he need to, should he ever have enough information to do so.

He traced a careful finger down the length of his 'cutting board' as it were, a small leather-like attatchment to his work table where his Mini-cons were restrained during their examinations. So wrapped up in his ability to access the tiny little wires and internal circuits of his newly chosen subjects, Thrust had taken time to painstakingly file down his fingers leaving a sharp, triangular 'nail like' protrusion at the end of all five digits - much like a human's. This way he was able to pick at, poke, prod and at times sever things within the Mini-cons without crushing them. It was delicate work indeed. He smirked again to himself and turned to head towards the cells.

Scourge stepped back a little, bumping into one of his men, Sweep Alpha, as he so fondly referred to him. The latter stumbled backward and Scourge glared at him. he turned to face his leader...leaders again and bowed hastily, not wanting to wait until they changed their minds. This was his only chance at escape from a processor-numbingly boring, and potentially volatile situation. His sweeps seemed to be aware of this fact as well and, as he spun on his heel to leave, they had already done so and one was even just about out the door. This was good, he mused as he left the heated chambers, now he could occupy his men so he would not have to listen to them whine and complain AND do something that would get him a little of the recognition he deserved.

He shoved Alpha to get him out the door as quickly as possible and then strode in front of them all, smirking as they stepped aside for him. He clanked down the hall, the rhythmic echoes of his identical men sounded behind him.

"We get the autobot then?" Alpha inquired.

Scourge ignored him for a moment. Was he not there a moment ago?

"Yes, you heard them didn't you?! Just remember, retrieving autobot base and defense intelligence is a priority. Fun for us comes second." he tried to sound authoritative, but his excitement for something to do other than paperwork or training was building and it was evident in his voice. He could almost feel the three sweeps behind him grin.

~*~

"There has to be!" Hotrod shouted desperately, turning to face Swindle. He approached the Mini-con then took to one knee in front of him. Splaying his hands on either side he willed his core not to wail in panic as he spoke, his voice almost steady. Almost.

"We can't just give up, Swindle! If we give up then they've already won!" He tried to sound convinced, but he wasn't. He knew... most of-age Autobots knew, what Decepticons did to their captives. Decepticons had become masters at ... extracting information - torture, and they would stop at nothing to get the answers they were after. Hotrod had seen the aftermath of Decepticon torture... His chassis shuddered.

"Think, Swindle... Think. There has to be some weakness in the defense system mainframe. No program is perfect!"

Swindle shook his head.

"All weaknesses monitored! Wired to Megatron directly! Even if Swindle and autobot found one, Decepticon leader would come!" He slammed a fist into the wall next to him. "Only thing Swindle and Autobot can do is...when decepticon guard opens the cell, try to fight him. Maybe together, Swindle and Autobot can take one then escape.." he said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. He seemed already broken almost, a different bot altogether without Starscream there to boost his confidence.

~*~

Thrust turned a corner and nearly skidded to a halt, his faceplate suddenly inches from that of Scourge. Taking an indignant step backwards, Thrust cleared his exhaust and narrowed his optic scope at the flight-capable Decepticon and his little... fan club.

"And just where are you going?" He asked with disdain dripping from every word, eyeing Scourge, then all three of his men in turn.

Scourge could almost see the expressions of his men behind him. It was possibly because he was wearing the exact same look of exasperated frustration.

"I am retrieving the captive, Thrust." He spit the last word, "Lord Galvatron and Lord Megatron instructed me to...interrogate him." Scourge heard his men snicker behind him and allowed himself a smirk. "What about you? What are you doing here?"

~*~

"Swindle!" Hotrod exclaimed, dropping all composure as he picked up the Mini-con in both hands. "That's brilliant!" He laughed, optics flaring in promise. "We can take one Decepticon - slag, I bet we can even take two Decepticons if we work together!" He looked around the cell for a moment, but refused to be deterred by their lack of ... well, anything that could function as a weapon. He nodded, more to himself than anything, and set Swindle down.

"Alright... When they come to get us - I'll tackle them and uh - then we make a run for it." Hotrod was slowly starting to loose his confidence.

Swindle struggled in Hotrod's hands and pushed away from him just as he was let go.

"Let Swindle go Autobot! Don't touch!" he warned with a few untranslatable beeps to emphasize his meaning. He caught his breath and looked up at the tall bot. Well, tall to him. He looked around as well, though he knew there was nothing in the cell that was of use, nothing in the cell at all. Swindle paused and turned to Hotrod.

"What if more than two decepticons come?"

~*~

Thrust let out a rather primative growl and reached out to poke Scourge in the soft, squishy neck-wires with a sharp finger'nail'.

"You had better mean the Autobot captive, you flying piece of junk. You heard me request the Mini-con captive and if you attempt to undermine me... The consequences will be dire." He flared up his optics as a warning.

Scourge frowned and, instead of backing off Thrust's jabbing appendage, leaned in, allowing the sharp 'nail' to slide between very vital wires, showing just how 'over' the creepy doctor's power trips he was.

"There is little i could do with the small one Thrust. That kind of pleasure is more up your alley anyway. I wouldn't DREAM of taking your little obsession away from you." He snarled and narrowed his optics at the cone-headed scientist.

~*~

Hotrod frowned and sat down, knees bent upwards as he looked pleadingly at the Mini-con.

"Look, Swindle, I'm just trying to keep hope alive. I- We can't just... give in. You've got to help me." He shook his head and powered down his optics. "No. We have to help each other. Do you want to see Starscream again?" He powered up his optics to look the little Mini-con over. "What would he do if he were being held captive?"

Swindle froze. Starscream. He would...terminate if he knew he could never see him again... He looked up at Hotrod and paused before speaking, choosing his words carefully. He was used to speaking to his bond-master and the seeker always understood him. he found that talking to other bots, he had to be a little more clear.

"Swindle just....knows this place...these decepticons.... he knows what they....do... Swindle does not know what Starscream would do.... m-maybe talk his way out?" He ventured, but sounded totally lost. He sat down heavily, hanging his head. He commed Starscream once again in vain.

~*~

Thrust scoffed at Scourge and turned, back-handing the Decepticon square across the faceplate before entering his code and listening to the door 'swoosh' open. He smiled a little and wasted no time in walking down the long cooridor towards the most heavily protected cell - the one reserved for sneaky, Autobot prisoners... And Decepticons, who knew what lay in store. He folded his hands behind his back again, and narrowed his optic scope.

"I hope you've rested up, my tiny little pet." He practically cooed, daring not even attempt to hide his anticipation. He came to a stop in front of the cell and looked down, meeting Swindle's optics dead-on.

"Swindle, yes? Starscream's partner?" He smirked, the expression somehow creeping up from behind his mask to envelope his optics as well.

Hotrod was about to answer, about to reach out and gently shake the Decepticon Mini-con back and forth to knock some sense into his processor, when he heard the door open. He quickly rose to his feet and approached the force field which served as their 'wall' to the cooridor beyond. He snarled, baring small little 'fangs' of sorts as the Decepticon cone-head approached. He narrowed his optic scope as the Decepticon totally ignored him and began a mental assault on Swindle. Scare tactics ... yeah, he knew about that. From what he'd learned from Kup the Decepticons had 'stages' to their torture... Scare Tactics were in there somewhere.

"Listen here you Decepticon scrap metal!" Hotrod hissed, pressing his faceplate as close to the shield as he could. He was rewarded with one quick, icy glare.

Scourge moved to say something further but his words were cut off by a hand clanging against his faceplate. The sweep leader had no time to really be indignant or retaliate since Thrust was just about down the hall when he realized what had happened. he settled for being the slightest bit amused that his smack had hurt so little. Thrust really wasn't a fighter at all. he quickly followed the odd doctor down the corridor, hearing his sweeps behind him, snickering. He would deal with their insubordinance later.

"Watch your back Thrust." He muttered for only him to hear. He stopped just behind him next to the cell, completely ignoring him now. Every decepticon knew that all fighting amongst themselves ceased in the presence of autobots in order to put forth a united front.

Swindle rose as well as the door down the hall opened. He braced himself beside Hotrod on the other side of the force shield from their captors. When he good a good look at the one who approached, however, all the fight drained out of him almost immediately. He took an involuntary step back, the fear that was not easily readable on his minicon faceplate, was more discernible from his dramatically change body language. A small hiss could be heard as the minicon took in a breath and puffed his chest a little.

"Swindle is Starscream's partner!" He affirmed, though more fear seeped into his voice than he wanted. Why Thrust....? Anyone but him! He tried to stop his fists from shaking where they were clenched at his sides. His inner voice, his private comm channel wailed along with his core
for his aforementioned partner, though as always...no answer.

Thrust smirked a little and crouched down, ignoring the Autobot as he banged his fists into the force field in an attempt to gain the cone-head's attention. He brought his faceplate almost on-level with Swindle's and cocked his helm to one side.

"Fiesty, aren't we? I can see why Starscream took such a liking to you, you are well matched." He silently switched out one of his hands for a long length of special cord. This cord was made entirely of an energy derived directly from Ore13 in it's purest form - a substance that Thrust had early on discovered had properties which directly interfeared with the Mini-con's central processors... effectively paralyzing them until the Ore was removed from the presence. It was perfect - for it left no lasting damage and he had not, as of yet, stumbled upon a Mini-con who could resist it. Keeping himself crouched he comm.ed Scourge.

~Are you and your men ready to restrain your captive so that I may retrieve mine?~

Hotrod growled and slammed fists and forearms into the forcefield again and again, shouting at the cone-headed Decepticon. He felt, rather than saw, the change in his little companion for the time being, and knew that if they were to have any chance of escape he needed to give the Mini-con some kind of confidence. He assumed that the two knew each other, and probably not on good terms.

"Slag it! Look at me you ugly idiot!" He hissed.

Scourge did not move, just out of sight of the cell, though not really trying to hide himself or his men.

~Yes, whenever you are ready, we will be.~ He commed back. he sent a signal to his men and they shifted almost imperceptibly into ready positions. The Sweep commander allowed himself a smirk. This would be almost too easy really. He could tell they didn't even know they were there...yet.

Swindle, in response simply banged on the energy field directly beside Thrust's head. Of course the shield stopped him from actually hitting the other bot, but the sparks and the angry beeping that accompanied the action made his feelings clear.

"Starscream and Swindle are unstoppable!" He assured his captor, mostly just to have something to shout at the scientist.

Thrust sighed and stood, dropping his hands to his side and reaching up to lower the force field. The very nanoclick that he did so he snapped out his left arm, quickly sending a thick thread of cable to wrap around the Mini-con. He made sure to keep himself far to one side, giving Scourge and his ... clones time to step in and room to secure the larger Autobot. He was not here to become involved in an idiodic scuffle. He was here to obtain his captive and return to his lab to begin work. He grinned as the cable snaked it's way completely around Swindle's tiny chassis, pinning his arms effectively to his sides before snapping back to remove any slack.

Hotrod looked down as Swindle hit the force field and he permitted himself a small smile. It seemed like maybe they would be able to do this! He looked back up just in time to see the cone-head open the cell. It took a few precious nanoclicks for the shield to slowly lower all the way, but Hotrod was ready. He practically sprang out of the cell, stepping over what remained of the shield as he prepared to tackle the cone-head. He could do this. He could do this! The cone-head was lithe, obviously built to fly and complete rediculous aerial manuevers.. he was no fighter. Hotrod would take him down and then he and Swindle would make a break for it.

Scourge was more than ready and his sweeps were practically jumping out of their chassis for a chance at some action. This was good, though it did make for a somewhat uncoordinated attack. Scourge let the orange and red autobot get very, VERY close to Thrust before springing forward, hoping it would spite the creepy son of a splitspark. But when he did act, he sprung forward in less than a nanoclick and shouldered Hotrod in the abdomen, the momentum carrying them both into a nearby wall. The sweeps followed suit eagerly, though they were not as quick as their commander and ran forward to help restrain the autobot after the tackle was complete and they were all on the ground.

Swindle let off a string of beeps that would make any minicon blush as the energy cord encircled him before he could even move to spit on Thrust, let alone try to escape or attack him. He found that once the cord was around him, his arms grating against his sides, pinned there completely immobile.

"Let Swindle go scrap heap!" he finally managed in a language that the good doctor could understand.

Thrust laughed, more the sound of grinding gears and mechanical whirring than a laugh. He lowered his helm again and reeled Swindle in slowly, until he was able to pick him up with his right hand. He smirked and lifted the Mini-con rather close to his faceplate.

"I hardly think you are in any position to be giving me orders, pet." He cawed. With one last look over his shoulder at the undignified heap that was Scourge, his clones and the Autobot, Thrust scoffed, and started down the cooridor.

"Megatron and Galvatron both have given me permission to see to you, Mini-con." Thrust explained calmly, holding Swindle to his chestplate in mock affection. He refrained from petting the Mini-con's helm, though the desire was strong. "You and I are going to have fun, I think."

Hotrod let out a surprised gasp as he was elbowed and then pinned to the wall. His optics flared for a moment until he was able to think clearly, and he began to fight back. He attemtped to clamp his hands on Scourge's shoulder and pry him off, or get his legs positioned for a good kick.

"Decepticon cowards!" He shouted, fear lingering in the back of his processor, not yet having overcome his need to fight off his attackers. He watched for as long as he could with wanning confidence as Swindle was carried through and then out of the cooridor. He almost felt like his hope went with the Mini-con. There was no way he could do this alone! He was vastly outnumbered and-and.. No! He couldn't start thinking like that! He had to think like Kup! Like Ultra Magnus! Like Optimus! What would they do!?

Swindle tried to squirm, he tried to fight back, tried to do anything! But he found himself effectively paralyzed and could only express his frustration and processor-numbing fear through a series of beeps and other frantic sounds. He almost called out to the autobot, almost yelled for his help, but pride, and the knowledge that his cell-mate was having his own problems, halted such an action.

Scourge pinned Hotrod by the shoulders as the sweeps grabbed his flailing limbs.

"Struggle and this will be a lot harder for you....and more fun for us!" Scourge informed the autobot captive as he, and the sweeps, each holding part of the mech's body, lifted Hotrod to his feet.

And You, My Love?

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:27:17 GMT

A random TF fic I did while in an odd mood.

The narrator is cannon.

You think you are safe while you recharge? That is alright. It is not for that I think you are a fool. No, my motionless victim, that is not what makes you inferior. Many Cybertronians believe they are safe in recharge, even now that this war has been haunting our back-up functions. They foolishly believe that no-one would dare attack someone in recharge; It’s underhanded, dirty, unfair, not honorable. Who says that war is honorable? Who says the Decepticons are?

Oh, but you may relax, for I have not come to terminate you. No, no. I have simply come to stare at you while you are helpless and naive to my presence so close to you. I have put us very close indeed, and if I wanted to I could shove my fist through your chest and remove your spark. What would that be like, I wonder? To crush your spark with my bare hands? Euphoria, perhaps. Something close to overload - how ironic, comrade.

You think you are safe because Megatron favors you? Ha! What a laugh. You are a child to him, another mere pawn in this war he has wanted to wage for so long. If it would advance his position he, himself, would terminate you. Do you know that? Would it crush you to realize that truth? You are still expendable, and there is little you can do to change that.

Do you remember the academy, old friend? I suppose the question is illogical - you have only just graduated, after all, so the academy must be fresh in your mind. Did you enjoy your last year there? Was it lonely without my guidance? I hope it was. I hope you suffered, struggling on your own to do things you could never do without me. Sure you excelled at just about everything, but we both know there are skills you do not possess - without me.

Do you know where I was while you were finishing school, friend? I was in hell. You left me to suffer! You left me to suffer and bleed out onto the ground! Was the brutality too much for you?! Did you run and scream, you worthless coward. Did you even try to assist me? Ha! What a laugh! You probably overheated. Was it gruesome, my injury? I’m told it was. I’m told it was horrific. Does the image haunt you? It had better. I hope it’s burned into the back of your damned optics for all eternity!

You and your kind are inferior to the rest of us Cybertronians. You are nothing but tools to pry apart calm society. You are nothing but half-finished pieces of scrap! You think you are superior because you can create life? So can I! You are not unique - you are monsters! Mutations that should be eradicated before they infect the masses of healthy, pure Cybertronians.

Surprised to hear such things from me, are we? I can only imagine what you would think if you knew who I was. We work together on a daily basis and yet, you haven’t the slightest inkling that I am Dreadshot. Practically my whole body needed to be replaced after that attack, you saw most of it shatter and explode. I’m told you carry a piece of me with you where-ever you go. Such things will only lead to your downfall, you know. Your facade does not fool me. I see the pain ripple around you. You are devastatingly lonely without me, aren’t you? No-one talked to you in the academy, you scared them away, and they weren’t able to read you. I was - No, Dreadshot was. He could predict your every thought. You and Dreadshot were as close as any bondmates. Don’t deny it. I do not. Even now that I feel such blinding hatred towards you, I do not deny how close we came to sharing our sparks with each other. The only difference is that I have grown stronger. I have found new purpose. I have been reborn into something stronger than Dreadshot - something better.

And you?

You lie there on your recharge berth, motionless, helpless and alone.

Do you still have the same dreams, love? The ones we talked about well into the Cybertronian night? Dreams that would ruin your carefully built reputation among Megatron and his deceitful Decepticons? Dreams of peace and love. Ridiculous dreams of a family?!

Should I tell them, beautiful? Should I describe, in great detail, all the things you once told Dreadshot you wanted? Should I inform Megatron that one of his newest recruits is... soft? You have a conscious. It’s so thick I can breathe it in, curl it over my tongue, and then spit it back at you in disdain while you remain oblivious.

I stare holes through you during the day, and watch you recharge at night. My animosity for you, for your whole kind, is black and thicker than tar. I would thrill at seeing it swallow you up, inch by inch, piece by blessed, striking piece until it covered you and terminated you. Would you scream at such a fate? No, I am not that lucky.

There are moments when you triumph that a part of me dies. No, not part of Dreadshot, for he died back on the battlefield when a shot tore through his upper body, faceplate and helm. Dreadshot died when you left him, cold and alive but not awake.

Recharge then, perfect, recharge in peace and wake with no memory of my little visit.

On you I’ve left no visible scars, no evidence of my visit aside from the darkness I wish to forever impart upon your spark.

But before I go, I will say this...

“I loved you, and you destroyed me.”

Transformers A 2 Z

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:26:09 GMT

These are three little fics I did as part of an A to Z Transformers Fic Challenge.

The first one is Megatron - driven by the word 'Megalomaniac'. I was kind of going for a darker, more introverted aspect of the word than being outright and flamboyant about it. I picture him being the newly appointed leader of the Decepticons at this point.

The second one is Starscream - driven by the word 'Silence'. At first I was going to apply the word to him, as in having him be silenced in some way, but that idea changed in the end. Again it's kind of introverted, and, I suppose, just a little mushy if you want to look at it that way. I'm definitely a supporter of the two of them being Bond Mates, and so that's where this is coming from.

The third one is Soundwave - driven by the word 'Seclusion'. I knew what I was going to do with this one from the beginning, and it is based a little from my Contagion time line, wherein Soundwave doesn't have a gender. Anyway, I see him as the equivalent of like 13 in this little drabble.

Megalomaniac (Megatron)
1. A psychopathological condition characterized by fantasies of wealth, power or omnipotence.
2. An obsession with grandiose things or actions.

I still could not stand the way he looked at me - even now when his optics had faded with age; become dusted with time. I wanted to close my hands around his throat and squeeze- squeeze until his main fuel line ruptured, until his head popped off. I wanted to force my power so mightily upon him that he would forever fear the slightest whisper of my name. I considered it a shame my father had already been terminated, lest he freeze in the icy grip of my shadow.

I stared at my father’s countenance, as if regarding his statue-esque presence with curiosity, and flared my scarlet optics at his chestplate. I scanned through the enclosed circuitry, the knotted wires and empty spark chamber; but his chassis was otherwise barren. He yielded to me no secrets, no advice from generations past: No Matrix. I had not, honestly, expected him to have it; he had not been a capable enough leader for such an honor. If the Matrix had chosen to bestow its power upon his vast incompetence, then it was a trinket of no interest to me. I could lead well enough on my own.

I heard Starscream pacing around behind me, anxious and frightened. The poor fool had lost touch with the scientist he had once been, and accepted an irrational fear of the unknown in the knowledge’s place. He, like so many others, squirmed in the presence of such ancient greatness. I, myself, was not bothered. For I knew that my power, nay, my legend, would soar galaxies beyond those of my late fore-fathers. I was Megatron - I was power.

“Come Starscream,” I cooed, startling the Seeker, “I have what I came for.”

Silence (Starscream)
1. A complete and total absence of sound.
2. The inability to make noise.

There weren’t many things which made a bot stand out- his size of course, his power and position, his alternate mode perhaps- but most of all: His voice. His ability to vocalize, to approve or disapprove, to give his unique input or put someone else down, his power to bend others to his will for good or evil. It was the same with Megatron. Oh sure he had power, size, position and respect, but he also had words. His vocals alone could spurn the whole Decepticon army forward into their termination in his name. He alone seemed to have the vocal prowess to drag practically anyone under his influence, to corrupt any central processor. He alone also possessed the ability to remove that influence; to become silent.

He rarely had kind words for me, my leader. He seemed to continuously spew my name, to slander my reputation and rip me to shreds with that voice. His touches were likewise - never soft but hard, rough and unforgiving. I could move past these things. Around my spark I had built walls to keep out his insults; and years of abuse saw to building my threshold for pain - but he knew ways around my barriers. He knew his silence stopped my spark from pulsing.

His insults told me he was disappointed in me. When he talked me down until I was smaller than an atom, I knew he was ashamed; ashamed of me and what I had done to darken his reputation. I could deal with that. I often later saw my own mistakes and strove to never make them again. His hands, his torturous hands, told me I had stepped out of line. The feeling of his fingers maiming me beyond recognition only told me my time had not yet come. It only made me try harder. But his silence terminated me.

Four million years together. Four million years to study him, to become a master at predicting his actions. It seemed like a long time - it was not long enough. I could not read his silence. I did not know what to prepare myself for. I could not take the pain of being ignored. It made me long for his insults, and the pain which followed. It coiled my cords into knots as I realized how weak I was - how dependant upon him I had become.

~Megatron,~ I comm.ed, shuddering as he walked past. He gave me nothing but silence in return.

Seclusion (Soundwave)
1. Alone
2. In a state of isolation from others, be it physically, mentally, or emotionally.

I could hear them talking behind my back, and I already knew the rumors they spread. It was hard not to know when I had been exposed to them all my life. I was unknown to them, a foreign obscenity over which they could not wrap their central processors. In a society preened to be perfect, a minute glitch or a returning, persistent malfunction was unacceptable. To exhibit such behavior was to label oneself an outcast. Our society was supposedly so advanced that such system malfunctions made one less sentient. Less than good enough.

There was nowhere I could go for comfort, no place that I could find solace. I was alone in my own home for I was a disgrace to my parents. My birth had sullied their good name. I had brought nothing but humiliation and it seemed that it would never be any different. To my young central processor it seemed unfair that I was to be subjected to a function cycle such as this. All because I had the ability to store life within my chassis. I had no gender chips what-so-ever, and therefore I was expendable and disgraceful.

Unlike my peers my difference did not make me special - it cursed me to an endless cycle of seclusion.

Transformers Contagion Chapter 37

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:09:12 GMT

"Adult's Work"

Narrated by Decepticon Longhaul

I did a lot of complaining on a day to day basis. Most of the stuff I complained about I knew there was nothing I, or anyone else for that matter, could fix, but I complained anyway. It was almost like a calming exercise for me - just voicing over and over again how unhappy I was in my current situation. Normally, anyway. But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to complain now. Even though I had tons to complain about.

For one I was less than half of my real size, smaller than a slaggin' cassetticon! All my power and purpose was gone. Sucked dry by this ugly, fleshy shell. Which was another thing I could complain about, my ugliness. Granted none of us were even remotely attractive in our new 'forms', but damn, was I ugly. We all smelled bad. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what the smell was, but it hung around the lot of us. I was tired, and not just my central processor but my ugly, smelly body too. My feet hurt, every step was torture. My stomach chamber was probably more empty than it had ever been before, and human stomach chambers have this nasty habit of making noises when they're empty - it was like it was trying to eat itself.

But everyone was miserable. A quick look at the lot of us and even someone who had no idea what was going on could tell we were more than just unhappy. Even that human that Starscream had chosen to 'adopt' was starting to fade. The rediculously peppy nature was fading into a silent brood of sorts as she trudged along with the rest of us in silence, following Starscream and his stupid little crystal to who knew where.

"Starscream?" I was brought out of my little complaining to myself session as Alexis spoke up. "I-I really need to sleep."

Starscream's steps seemed to stutter as he turned around to look at her, at all of us, as we stopped on the empty sidewalk. I crossed my arms over my chest and met his gaze evenly as he did a quick scan over us all. He looked back to Alexis and opened his mouth to speak - but nothing came out. No sound. Alexis cocked her head slowly to one side and moved forward, I heard Scrapper scoff to my left. Starscream seemed to find himself again just seconds before Alexis touched him.

"Uh, yes, right. Sleep." He muttered, his voice hoarse. "Wait here." He demanded, jogging up the sidewalk a few paces before darting into a building.

"Wait here?" Alexis grumbled to no one.

Hook chuckled.

"You'll soon learn, child, that Starscream is never as in control as he seems, or may like to think he is."

"Shut up, Hook." The girl replied quickly, narrowing her eyes at him. She had a certain spunk, I had to give her that. Runamok and Runabout had taken a quick liking to her as well, and were standing on either side of her like elite gaurds at the moment. They were almost as tall as she was, but a noticable bit wider.

"Does anybody know what's going on around here?" She pressed, looking at each of us in turn.

"Soundwave does."

All eyes were suddenly on Rumble, a slouched figure leaning up against the brick wall of the tight alley, surrounded by his less than human friends.

"I'd hold my tongue if I were you, Rumble." Hook warned, wagging a finger at the cassetticon. "You remember what happened last time you started down this path, I'm sure."

"No. No let him speak." Alexis said, stepping forward.

"It's not Hook you need to worry about." I turned my head, lifting my eyebrows in shock as Thundercracker spoke up. "It's that ..." He shook his head and looked away. "Nevermind."

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!"

"You wouldn't understand." Scrapper laughed, looking down at the human girl. "You're only human."

"Try me." She retorted, stepping forward and looking up at him. They were almost nose to nose, but the little human didn't back down. Runamok and Runabout looked nervously at each other, clearly wanting to step in but also unsure about how to take down Scrapper - and the rest of us. I could feel, even in this body, the link between us as Scrapper sneered. I could feel his anger pooling in my stomach, his eager want to sink his fists into something to rip something to shreds if only to momentarily relieve the stress and pressure he felt building behind his eyes. Hook's thoughts too, and all of Mixmaster's worrying. Scavenger and Bonecrusher were as antsy as I was, waiting for something big to happen, waiting for real orders to follow.

"I said, Soundwave knows." Rumble repeated. The stand off between Scrapper and Alexis cooled down as she turned to face the cassetticon. Ravage sat in front of Rumble, either purring or growling - I couldn't tell.

"Who is Soundwave?"

"He's our-"

"Do you want a repeat of what happened back at the base?!" Skywarp hissed as he pushed through Hook and Scrapper to glare at Rumble. Ravage stepped forward and bared sharp fangs, her growling sending shudders through my body. Thundercracker moved up to grab Skywarp's arm. Rumble moved away from the wall.

"Maybe I do!" He shouted back. Alexis looked anxiously over her shoulder, and I caught worry in her eyes. She could feel the tension building too now. All we needed was a catalyst and something big was going to happen. I liked that feeling.

"You're more glitched than I thought! The whole bunch of you!" Skywarp surged forward but Thundercracker grabbed his arm. Ravage leaned forward, her ears so flat against her skull I could barely make them out. Thundercracker bumped into Hook as he restrained Skywarp, and recieved a glare. The Seeker snarled in return and was rewarded with a shove from Scrapper.

There were a few clicks where I could almost hear time turning by, where everything seemed to stop - and then it happened.

Thundercracker let go of Skywarp and swung a hard fist at Scrapper's face. Skywarp stumbled forward and tripped on Ravage, stumbling and knocking Rumble hard into the brick wall behind them. Alexis moved quickly backwards and the twins jumped in front of her. Hook grabbed a handful of Thundercracker's hair from behind and pulled him backwards as Scrapper shook off the hit. Rumble hit the ground hard and Ravage leapt onto Skywarp's chest, digging her claws into his clothing and sinking her teeth into his neck. Thundercracker dropped to his knees at precisely the right second to send Scrapper's retaliating fist into Hook's face. Mixmaster and Bonecrusher leapt to grab Hook as Scavenger tackled Thundercracker into Scrapper's legs, knocking them all off balance and onto me. Runamok and Runabout ran forward to try and pry Ravage off Skywarp as the rest of the cassetticons emerged from Rumble's clothing to attack the Seeker as well.

Scrapper snarled and I braced him until he and Thundercracker had both regained their footing. I reached down and grabbed the front of the Seeker's collar and forcibly lifted him off the ground. Scrapper rubbed at his jaw as Thundercracker wrapped his hands over my wrist and attempted to claw free of me. I narrowed my eyes and met his as he attempted to kick me.

"That hurt you piece of slag." Scrapper hissed, pulling back his fist to return the favor.

"What in Vector Sigma is going on here?!"

Starscream had returned.

I took a second to glance around at the rest of us, as did everyone else. Hook had been slung over Bonecrusher's shoulder, and Mixmaster was attempting to talk to him as he beat at the bigger human to set him down. Scavenger had apparently hit his face a little too hard when he tackled Thundercracker, and was seated just a few feet away from me with a hand to his bloody nose. Skywarp was on his knees on the cement, hands over his head as the cassetticons squirmed free of Runamok and Runabout and continued to attack him.

"Are you trying to draw the attention of every single human in the city!?" Starscream continued, pitting himself in the center of our cluster. With glances at one another we all slowly began to peel ourselves off each other, none too gently. I'm fairly certain I heard Thundercracker threaten me as he hit the ground - I'd like to see him try.

"I got us a room." Starscream continued. "Come on."

"A room?" I heard Alexis whisper as she moved up next to Starscream, her human heart was racing. "What about Rumble's-"

"What did you say to them?" Starscream hissed low as he turned to glare at her. He looked over his shoulder at us, and then back to the road as he lead us onward. Alexis had apparently not expected such a venomous reply, and was clearly stunned as she walked the rest of the way in silence.

The motel that Starscream, or EOS I presumed, had found was ... how did Hook describe it? Dingy? It was a hole in the wall, and looked ready to fall apart. He had done exactly as he'd said - gotten us a room. One. I wasn't the first one to open my mouth about our temporary abode, it was Alexis, but a single glance from Starscream managed to shut her up, and quiet the rest of us, at least for now. There was one bed, big enough to fit at least two of us, a couch, three chairs - and the floor. The bed would go to Starscream and Alexis, Rumble and his casetticons quickly claimed the couch. Skywarp and Thundercracker crammed themselves into a corner by the window, attempting to maintain their dignity as they cleaned each other up. One look at the stiff chairs told me I was better off sleeping on the floor, let the others fight over them.

Giving Scavenger a snort as the burly Constructicon knocked in to me, I settled myself down with my back to the end of the couch, facing the bed. I rolled my shoulders against the hard armrest and sneered. It was going to be a long recharge cycle.

Alexis slowly sat down on the bed, giving a slight bounce. She turned to watch Starscream as he paced for a moment near the door. I had a good view of her from where I sat, and she was rolling things over in that little human head of hers. She was going to start something again, I could see it. I chuckled quietly to myself, reaching up to smack away Ravage's tail as it draped over the couch and into my face. I recieved a slight hiss of warning as she removed the offending limb.

"Starscream," Alexis started quietly as Starscream finally sat down on the other end of the bed. I tossed a glance over my shoulder as a light bickering picked up near the table and chairs. Hook and Scrapper. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to our 'mighty leader'.

"What?" It was his usual reply, but it was empty. It didn't have any of that bite everyone expected from him. Sure it was still ear-piercing, made my human audios ache, but it was empty none the less. He was exhausted - either physically or emotionally from taking orders from that damned crystal, didn't matter to me either way.

"What is really going on here?" Alexis growled, sounding like she had tougher ball bearings than Starscream at the moment. She leaned towards him and lowered her voice to a whisper, attempting to keep the conversation between the two of them.

"You promised you'd tell me once we-"

"Were alone, woman. Does it look like we're alone?" Starscream hissed, interrupting her and giving a quick glance around the room. I made sure to avert my gaze so as not to be caught eavesdropping. Not in fear of retaliation, mind you, I just didn't want to stop listening in when things were just getting started.

"So, you don't want any of them to know either?"

"It would be stupid to let them know anything. They're soldiers. Giving them any information is dangerous." Starscream leaned back quickly as Alexis rounded on him. She was on her hands and knees on the bed, her face thrust towards Starscream. I tilted my head just a little to try and get a good view of the Seeker from around the human's lifted aft.

"Aren't they your men? Aren't they.. your friends?"

"Ha!" Starscream opened his mouth to continue, but Alexis cut him off.

"You obviously brought me along for a reason, Starscream. And though I don't have anywhere else to go - I will leave if you don't start giving me some answers! This whole thing is so-so screwed up and weird!"

"You need to back off, woman." I lifted my eyebrows at the tone in Starscream's voice. Something was wrong. The room behind me was completely silent now, and I assumed everyone else was now watching the 'couple' on the bed.

"Why? What are you going to do? Continue to not tell me anything? I-"

And there it was.

I caught the end of a short pulse of light from the crystal around Starscream's neck, and in the next second he was standing on the bed - the human girl dangling by her neck from his outstretched hand. Her eyes were wide and she was still for a moment before she reached up to grab his arm and kick lightly at the air, gasping and making strange noises. Starscream seemed completely unphased. He turned his gaze to the rest of us as I and my fellow Constructicons moved to our feet, taking rather defensive stances. I think we all knew it wasn't Starscream any longer.

"Pathetic, puny, insignificant little female!" The voice we'd come to recognize as EOS boomed out of Starscream's thin human lips as he tossed the human to the ground. Alexis groaned and scooted backwards.

"How dare you make demands of me! How dare any of you!" He glared at each of us in turn, a dark expression on the features we'd come to associate with Starscream. It was odd, though - because this time I was afraid to meet his eyes.

"You don't need to know anything. You are my peons, my minions! You are to do as I say without question!" For a second it seemed as if Starscream was attempting to gain control. A look of pure exhaustion seemed to cross over the human features as if all of EOS/Starscream's energy had been suddenly zapped away. Then the anger returned.

"But if it will shut you up - if it will stop your meaningless chatter - I will tell you what we are after."

I moved back from my spot at the end of the couch to rejoin my fellow Constructicons at the far table as EOS/Starscream stepped off the couch and approached. I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I moved myself into the huddle between Bonecrusher and Hook, ignoring, as was everyone, Mixmaster's whimpering.

"During my brief time on this dismal planet I have picked up readings of a very special substance. A substance I did not know existed on planets other than your Cybertron. A substance so powerful I cannot believe these pathetic humans have not discovered and exploited yet. It is called Ore13." EOS paused. It almost seemed like he was waiting for our reactions. Waiting for us to either be shocked, scared or both... Of course none of us had the slightest clue what he was talking about - so his wait was only met with silence. After a moment he scoffed and continued.

"Ore13 is an incredibly powerful substance both in its raw form and when boiled down into an oil or fuel. With Ore13 we could recreate all the power of the AllSpark in minutes. We could fuel all of Cybertron for years - or create weapons and ships... Powerful things!" EOS reached down and grabbed the crystal, er... himself, and shook it as he spoke. "With Ore13 I will be able to give myself a new body! I will no longer be confined to this meaningless shard!"

"A-a new body?" Hook ventured, stepping forward. "Does that mean that we-"

"Yes, yes, of course." EOS waved dismissively and sneered. "You will all be returned to your former Cybertronian glory."

"Where can we get it!?" Scrapper and Scavenger shouted, moving forward eagerly.

EOS/Starscream laughed.

"I have picked up on a huge deposit ... just outside Mission City."

Transformers Contagion Chapter 36

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:08:30 GMT

"Don't Go, Raoul!"

Narrated by Autobot Tracks

(Racial slurrs ahead)

I had been conned into going. Well, no, essentially Optimus himself had ordered me to go, but it was still totally against my will. In spite of being one of the more attractive 'human Autobots', I still didn't want anyone to see me in my new fleshy body. I was not ready to face the world. But Optimus insisted I needed to 'get out'.

As myself, the rest of my 'party' and scattered other interested Autobots awaited the arrival of Mikaela and Carly, I stationed myself well away from the more eager boys, in no mood to dodge them as they pratically jumped up and down in excitement.

"Not interested in the 'mall trip', Tracks?" I turned my head slightly, human hair obscuring my vision, and gave Elita One a glance.

"No." I answered curtly, sighing afterwards and giving a shrug. "I still don't want to leave the base looking like... like this."

"Has it occured to you, Tracks, that no-one will know what you really look like? That the only people who know that you're stuck in this, ahem, 'flesh bag', are actually at the base?" She lifted her eyebrows at me, but I wasn't falling for it.

"Isn't this Jazz's job? Cheering up the troops?"

She laughed and swung an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into an embrace of sorts.

"Just pretend, Tracks. Relax and pretend to enjoy yourself for a day."

"Easier said then done!" I turned, pulling out of her grip and indicating myself. "Could you pretend if you looked like this?"

She cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm no judge of human attractiveness, Tracks, no authority at least, but I've seen far worse on TV. You'll blend right in."

"That's just the problem, Elita. I don't want to blend in! In my real body I don't blend in, I stand out."

"Go naked."

I stared for a moment before it sunk in that she had been joking completely. She took a step towards me and put her hands on both my shoulders, in the same way that Optimus did when he was giving a pep talk. They were a lot alike.

"Tracks, just -" she shook her head and pulled away her hands, "have fun."

I scoffed and turned away as she walked into the base, pausing to brush her hand across Optimus' arm as she passed him. I cocked one hip out and drew my gaze slowly towards the commotion as a large, dirty old minivan pulled up to the curb and the horn honked twice.

The back door opened and Sam, followed by his friend Miles, jumped out. Rolling my eyes I slowly approached.

"You guys ready to hit the mall?" Carly called as she rolled down the window and stuck her head out, grinning. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe leapt into the van and were instantly shoved into the back as Hotrod followed, Arcee behind him.

"Tracks, you coming?" Arcee called, pausing to look over at me. I cast a pleading glance at Optimus, who simply nodded me forward. I sighed heavily and climbed stiffly into the van... and narrowed my eyes. The only available seat was in the back, between the twins. I ground my teeth and accepted my fate with as much dignity as I could.

Had the trip taken place within a standard Cybertronian transport vehicle, had I been equiped with my real body, I would have completely disabled the twins' vocal components and major motor functions. And I have a feeling I would have been hailed a hero for such actions. As it was, I was forced to sit between the bickering duo, and was little more than a nuisance in their eyes. Their bickering turned to light smacks and pinches and pokes, reaching across and behind me in the process. As if I wasn't being jostled enough already by the van. Every now and again either Hotrod or Arcee would turn around and yell at them to stop or shut up, but it didn't help for long. Once or twice I think I caught a look of pity from Arcee, but I tried to ignore it.

Why had Primus decided to punish me? I hadn't done anything!

In spite of my dour mood, I must say I was absolutely thrilled when we reached the mall - so much space after a forty-five minute ride in a human's sardine can! Carly and Mikaela had given us rules, mostly stuff you told children - stay close, don't touch anything, listen to every thing I tell you, etc. I was betting the twins listened for ten minutes.

I brought up the rear of our little parade, the twins in front of me, Arcee attempting to politely dodge Hotrod's advances in front of them, and Carly and Mikaela leading the way. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over the various vehicles throughout the parking lot and their various stages of upkeep. None of them were anything like my own alternate mode - a true Cybertronian vehicle, much faster, much sleeker and far more attractive than anything found on earth. I felt a familiar longing and sighed heavily as we passed through the glass paned doors into the mall.

I was stunned, to say the least. It was so... noisy. So busy. There were so many people! Adults, elder humans, children, babies, teenagers... And they all looked so stunningly similar. It was a spectacle, really, that they all didn't wander around screaming names in confusion. Lost among the vast sea of comparable faces. I nearly tumbled into the twins as they came to a stop, craning their necks to view the mall from around Carly and Mikaela, who had approached them through the softly arguing forms of Hotrod and Arcee.

"Sides, Sunny," Mikaela said carefully, looking from one to the other, "remember what you promised - remember the rules."

"Um, sure."

"Yeah, uh huh."

I rolled my eyes at their less than attentive responses. Carly and Mikaela exchanged glances with each other before Carly shoved the twins aside and smiled at me. I raised an eyebrow.

"Um, so, Tracks - we told Arcee and Hotrod, but um - don't tell Optimus." She moved a little closer, looking a tad nervous. "Since you're like, me and 'kay's age, we think you're capable of escorting yourself around the mall. I mean - you know some of the Autobots better than us so we'll need your help to like, get stuff for everyone. So, as long as you promise - promise - promise not to cause trouble, you can go explore on your own. Just meet us back here in like two hours."

I narrowed my eyes a little.

"You're ditching us?"

"No!" Carly answered quickly, holding her hands up. Arcee and Hotrod turned to look at us, their squabble apparently finished. The human girl looked to Mikaela for help.

"We just don't want to burden you with the less than pleasant part of shopping." Mikaela answered truthfully. I nodded. Her I believed.

"Fine." I looked up at the large clock on the outside of the elevator in the center of the mall. "Two hours." Without another word I turned and left the little group.

At least I wouldn't have to play nice anymore. I could go off and find some place to sit for two hours and attempt to forget how miserable I was. I took note of a few food shops as I passed, the smells somewhat rousing my interest. Of course I didn't have the money needed to purchase anything, no, Mikaela and Cary had the 'shopping portion' of Inferno's reward money. I scoffed at my own thoughts.

I had no idea where I was going, which I suppose goes without saying. I wasted most of my energy on attempting to dodge the masses of people navigating the mall walkways with much more experience than I. Women too interested in their gossip and shopping bags almost knocked me over around every turn, inconsiderate youths nearly barreled me down, and I was under the impression I needed to constantly watch my feet less I crush a child underfoot. It was tiring, incredibly tiring.

Leaving the foodcourt behind me I swung a right and paused. I had heard, through TV and listening to conversations between our human allies - that shopping was considered a female thing. That men didn't enjoy buying clothes and shoes and such, that it was, essentially, a woman's job. As such, I hadn't ever given the whole process much thought, especially since I had never had the need to appraise human fashion or shopping habits... But now- now that I was in a shopping mall, now that I was looking at things essentially the same way they did - I could not keep myself in check. I was - intrigued. No, fascinated.

There was so much to choose from! Each shop window displayed it's most appealing outfits and pieces and, I must say, each one seemed to beckon to me in some way. I could not, now, understand why this was not considered a masculine pass time! There were ample opportunities for men to purchase clothing that would greatly enhance their most masculine features. It was an opportunity I cannot believe the whole of the male race was passing up. If only they knew what they were missing!

As I wandered aimlessly down the mall halls, I found myself staring into the window of a considerably darker colored store than most others. On the life-sized doll in the window were a pair of tightly pulled dark pants, an overly large and ruby colored belt, and a two-layered top ensemble. It was, well, marvelous to look at. For the first time since our unhappy little incident, I was almost pleased that my new body could contort itself in such a way as to fit into an outfit such as that. It was not unlike the feeling I got upon choosing my alternate mode.

Casting a quick glance over my shoulder, I entered the rather darkly lit shop. The music was, well, not quite my style, but the bass line was heavy enough to feel in my chest. I scanned a few of the clothing racks, attempting to look uninterested, until I found what I had been looking for - the same pants which had been hung in the front window. I couldn't help but crack a small smile as I reached out to touch them.

I was suddenly bumped from behind and shoved almost face-first into the rack of jeans. I spun quickly and reached up to assure myself my nose was not bleeding.

"Hey, watch where you're goin'... fag." Snarled the young man who'd bumped into me. I narrowed my eyes as I sized up him and his little gang of friends. They were all about my 'human age', but bigger built and definately sturdier. It was also quite obvious that they were looking to pick a fight.

"Pardon me but, you're the one who should watch his steps." I retorted, placing my hands on my hips.

"What did you just say?" The ring leader stepped forward.

"I said-" I didn't get to finish as the human looked over his shoulder cautiously, then moved forward and kneed me in the gut in a rather violent fashion. I doubled over in shock and pain, wrapping my arms over my stomach. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders, presumably to hold me still so he could do it again, when we were greeted by a rather thickly accented voice.

"Hey uh, is there problem here, chicos?"

My attacker moved quickly to the side before narrowing his eyes at the interruption. I looked up, still winded and sore from the jab. The voice belonged to another young human male, but this one was - different. His skin was a deep bronze color, matched by mischevious and, at the moment, dangerous eyes. His long black hair was obviously thick with curls, but he kept it back in a tie at the nape of his neck. He was dressed in clothing that suggested he was in this store rather often, baggier pants than the ones I had come in to look at, and a T-shirt I could see on the wall behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"You better watch yourself, 'spic." The bully growled before turning and motioning for his entourage to follow. I straightened myself slowly as they left the store.

"You ok, man?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine." I answered, and it was mostly truth. I rubbed at my nose once before giving the human a quick once over. He cocked his head to one side a stepped towards me a little. I resisted the urge to recoil, but only barely. Battle mode somehow activated even while I was stuck in this tiny body.

"You know, no offense, but you make it really obvious. Bullies like dem are always itchin' for a fight, and, well, you got a target painted on your forehead, my friend."

I blinked up at him in confusion. What was he talking about? I made what obvious? He couldn't possibly mean...

"I-I mean it's not your fault, right? We ain't all as lucky. I'm just a natural born actor." He chuckled a little at his own joke, but his face soon softened into a concerned frown. "Just uh, watch your back, man. I don't wanna call your battle strategy into question or nothin', but they coulda whooped your ass." He held up his hands defensively. "I'm sure you're like - trained in martial arts or whatever dude, but, you gotta admit they caught you off guard. People like us gotta stick together. You ever uh, think about tryin' to be more subtle about it?"

"I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about." I answered slowly, narrowing my eyes. I didn't know what he was talking about because the thing it sounded like he was talking about was impossible! No-one knew about us, and even the people who did know about us didn't know we were now just like them.

The human nodded, frowning a bit before offering his hand.

"Me llamo Raoul." He said, his tongue wrapping easier around his native language than English. I recognized the accent, but unfortunately did not speak a word of it.

"Um, what?" I asked, shaking his hand. He had a deceptively strong grip.

"Raoul, 's my name." He said, smiling and even chuckling a little. It was a surprisingly pleasant sound to my human audios.

"Oh - I see. I'm-I'm Tracks."

Raoul laughed again, and though I was rather certain he was laughing at me, I couldn't stop the grin spreading over my face from the sound of it. He slung an arm over my shoulder and leaned in a little closer to whisper to me.

"Man, that is it. What're you like, from San Fran? I gotta teach you to blend in 'round here or you're gonna get that pretty ass beat down one day."

"Blend-blend in?"

"You stick out like a sore thumb, Tracks. I betchu everyone in this mall knows what you are by now." He gave me a slight pat to the back and moved away, shoving his hands into his overly large pockets.

He had to know. I don't know how, but somehow.. he knew! He knew that I was not human! I met his eyes and crossd my arms over my chest.

"Well, not all of us are as good at blending in as others. Though - I'm not sure how you know about us, you certainly saw through me."

"Aye, mis dios. You're a little slow with the innuendoes, eh?" Raoul's face blushed the slightest bit, his cheeks seeming to take on a slight maroon color. "I know about you because I'm just like you. I figured all the ass jokes and my over-the-top friendly nature woulda tipped you off, but I guess I'm a better actor than I thought."

"You're.... You're-" I was stunned almost speechless. He was most certainly not one of the Autobots from the base, but ... then who was he?!

"Hard to believe, eh?" He pulled out a piece of paper from his pants pocket and a pen from the other. He began scribbling something down as he talked.

"Look uh, I don't do this often but - you really need some help here, Tracks. Call me and I'll give you some personal lessons, or whatever. Dinner too, if, y'know, you're interested." He flashed me a bright smile as he handed over the piece of paper. I glanced down at it to see seven digits, human numbers. It was a phone number! I looked back up at him.

"My shift is over in fifteen, but I got some... uh... other things I need to take care of tonight. Call me tomorrow."

I could only nod as Raoul moved away from me, giving me one last grin, and vanishing into the rest of the store. I stood for a few more moments, I'm sure, staring down at the piece of paper in my hands. No-one was going to believe me... I spent the rest of my hour and forty-five minutes seated at the food court, waiting for the others. Arcee and Hotrod joined me after about an hour, and though I was too lost in thought to actually participate in the conversation, it was slightly calming to hear the two of them talking across the table. Arcee was going on about some fancy hunter's knife she'd found, and Hotrod was attempting to politely inform her that it didn't look like the gentleman at the store was willing to part with the knife.

With only about twenty minutes left until our party was supposed to leave, a small group of girls took up standing just at the end of the asile. I noticed them first, a meager feat considering they were doing nothing but giggling loudly, pointing at our table, and staring.

"Do you two-"

"Notice the group of giggling girls?" Arcee supplied, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at me. I nodded. Hotrod, arms folded on the table and chin resting on top of them, sat up slightly.

"Huh?" He moved to turn around and Arcee quickly put a hand on his arm to stop them.

"No no, don't look." She shook her head, ignoring the odd look he gave her as he sat up straighter. He leaned back in my chair and cast a casual glance to the side, looking the group over once more. Seven in total, all of them tiny, dressed in bright colors, and failing horribly at blending into the crowd. It was almost like they wanted to be noticed.

"What's - what's wrong with giggling humans, guys?" Hotrod asked, eventually sneaking a glance over his shoulder.

The reaction was immediate - the giggling group of girls... screamed. They shrieked like broken machinary and practically jumped up and down in excitement. Hotrod recoiled and looked back to myself and Arcee. I lifted a brow.

"What-what the slag is that all about?!" Hotrod panted, face turning as red as his paint job. I shrugged.

"They obviously think you're attractive, Hotrod." Arcee snorted, grinning a little. "It's - a human female custom, I think. A courting ritual."

"A courting ritual?" I asked, crossing one leg over the other. Arcee shrugged.

"I've seen Carly do it, not Mikaela so much, and you see them do it on TV all the time. When they see an attractive male they group up, then giggle uncontrollably. It's - a little rediculous, if you ask me."

"It's a lot rediculous." Hotrod moaned, visibily resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder again.

"It's like - a mating call." I supplied, shrugging. "I've seen birds do it."

"They aren't birds, though, Tracks." Hotrod grumbled as he sat up. "They're humans... and they're giggling at me."

"You should go say hi." Arcee offered. She recieved a wilting look.

"They're coming this way." I said quietly, trying not to stare as the group of girls, moving as one entity, inched closer and closer to our table. Arcee slowly leaned to one side as they moved right up behind Hotrod. He fixed me with a terrified look as the giggling picked up right behind him.

"Um, excuse me," said one of the girls in a quiet voice as she was shoved forward by her peers, "can we have your autograph?"

"My autograph?" Hotrod asked as he turned, eliciting the same response as a few moments ago. This time, however, through the screaming I was able to make out English. The girls were not just screaming nonsense this time, they were screaming - Oh my God, it's him! It's totally him! He's so much cuter in real life! I can't believe I'm standing so close to him! Nobody is going to believe me!

I looked to Arcee.

"They think he's a celebrity." I said quietly. She nodded, awestruck.

Hotrod was attempting to stand, but the girls had him nearly surrounded and there was little else for him to do other than sit there as they stared.

"Um I uh - I think you've got me... confused with someone else." He tried, eventually standing and then making the mistake of turning around. His back pressed to the table, the girls knew they had him cornered. Arcee and I exchanged glances.

"It's totally him..." Whispered one of the awestruck girls before reaching out to touch Hotrod's face. Arcee rolled her eyes and stepped forward, grabbing the girl's wrist.

"Ok, enough is enough." She growled, meeting the vicious stare she received. "Whoever you think he is, you've got the wrong guy. I can promise you he's no celebrity."

"Gee, thanks Arcee. Good thing my ego's not at stake here." Hotrod muttered as I helped him climb over the table.

"Um, yes. He is." The girl replied, pulling her arm out of Arcee's grasp. "I don't know what rock you've been living under, but he's-"

It will be hard to thoroughly explain the events that follow, so, perhaps I can sum it up in a way you can easily understand. Apparently, the celebrity that Hotrod was mistaken for differed from girl to girl, some thought he was a member of the Jonas Brothers, another said he was from that other new band, still another yet said he was the star of some new TV series, and so on and so forth. Luckily the bickering gave us the chance to slip past un-noticed, almost smuggling Hotrod between myself and Arcee.

We met back up with Carly, Mikaela and the twins a short while afterwards. They were all carrying numerous bags, and when they presented us with the question of whether or not we had found anything we wanted to buy for ourselves or the other Autobots - Hotrod interrupted and declared he was feeling very ill and that he had to see Ratchet immediately. Arcee and I exchanged knowing glances, but decided we'd had our fill of the mall for the day anyway. The entire trip home I contemplated the human Raoul, fingering the piece of paper in my pocket. I had to tell someone. He had been able to look at me and tell what I really was - we needed to stop him from sharing the news with the whole world.

I needed to tell Optimus.

Transformers Contagion Chapter 35

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:07:53 GMT

"The Devil Truth"

Narrated by Decepticon Lord Megatron

As a note, we all know that it is Frenzy and not Rumble with Soundwave, but Megatron does not.

It was time someone put a stop to this little parade of insanity, and it seemed that I was the only one capable of doing such. It seemed that the road to ultimate glory was paved with messes I would need to organize.

I had a vision. While I was locked in some space between termination and stasis lock, I had a vision. I was no prophet, I was no religious Cybertronian, but those images - I could not simply overlook them. Optimus and I as children, again as children, back on Cybertron before the war. We had barely learned to transform and yet we were to be given a great honor: The Prophet, Alpha Trion, had requested us. Yes. I knew this memory well. I relived it countless nights before. It had been a defining moment for me even at such a young age. I recall wishing to climb the stairs to his temple on my own, even as Optimus requested our mother carry him to the top. I walked, helm lifted proudly, alongside my father as we neared the Prophet's sanctuary.

What does one expect, at that age, a sanctuary to look like? Clean? Cluttered with various relics of age and timelessness? I do not recall what I had imagined, but I recall vividly what I saw - down to the last floating spec of dust, the smell of foul fuel.

Cybertonians littered the top step of the sanctuary. Most of them huddled together in small, tightly compact groups, clinging and shuddering. There were some secluded, by choice or force I could not guess. They were all malfunctioning, glitching, dying. I heard Optimus make a small noise, clinging closer to our mother for comfort. My father placed a hand upon my shoulder, but I did not need his assurance. Optimus was the one who needed reassurance, it was his spark that was soft. Not mine. No. Even then, before I knew what I was to become, I knew I was different. I was stronger. My optics caught movement to my right as we walked through the swarms of dying Cybertronians towards the inner sanctuary, and I glimpsed despair. True and honest despair. The optics before mine were purple, cracked and flickering. The faceplate was barely recognizable as such under the decay of cosmic rust. I shied away as the Cybertronian reached for me, his mouth forming one word: decepticon. It rattled my processor, this word. What had it meant? Was it merely the rambling of a dying spark?

We soon left the visage of anguish behind and stepped into the innermost room of the temple. A single window rested at the top of the arched roof, spilling light in a perfect circle onto the floor. Tiny molecules of dirt and dust darted through the light as if sentient - as if given life in this cleanliness. As we stepped into the light my mother set Optimus down, and I heard the ancient gears of the Prophet protest his movements as he stood slowly. He reliquished his seat atop an altar to join us in the light. My central processor was immediately at war with itself. This frail and fragile heap was the great Prophet? This... push-over was the magnificent Alpha Trion? His bolts were barely holding together! A good shove down the temple stairs would terminate him. And yet... and yet... There was such... knowledge. Such timelessness within his chassis. Even at my young age I could feel the power radiate from him, swirling around him like a forcefield. Even the falling particles seemed to sense his greatness, shrinking away from him rather than collect on his outer armor.

"Megatron. Optimus." He spoke, and my brother reached for my hand. I accepted, pulling him with me as I stepped forward, our parents stepping backwards in respect. It was now the three of us bathed in light, two young children and the great Alpha Trion. I wondered what he had seen in his function cycle, what greatness he had encountered. He knelt before us...

That is where my memory ends. After this nanoclick I have no real recollection of the event. I know what has been told to me, I know words - but nothing of solid fact. But this vision, this vision showed me different. How much was I to trust? I know now that the great Prophet is half ancient wisdom and half fanatic belief, but did he really share such things with me? How could he have known ... such things...

His optics were blue. They were deep and they frightened me as I stared into them. His voice was suddenly in my audios, broken and full of static. His words jumbled, accompanied by images - real or imagined?

Decepticon..

That word again! My consciousness knew, but my young child self did not. My central processor was wracked with visions - myself delivering a speech to all of Cybertron, this word leaving my lips. No, I said more, there was more 'We are Decepticons!' I was proud. Yes. Decepticon.. they meant me. I was in the air, flying - and there was this sound in my audios, someone with me. A trusted commander, no, more than that - less than that. He shot past me in a blurr of red, white and blue. Anger. Regret. Fear. Someone screaming for mercy and my voice, my voice, ordering termination. Triumph and defeat. How could one word.. mean so much?

Greatness...

It was I - I who was destined for this. Greatness. Yes. An army at my command, Cybertron mine to rule! Crowds would cheer my name to Primus! No... no this cheering - this cheering became screaming. They would... cry my name to Primus. My name would never be forgotten. Never! It would be on the lips of every Cybertronian now and forthcoming! People would flock to me for advice, for answers... and I would have them. An image, myself on a screen above Cybertron - laughing, smiling. Pleased. Yes.

Betrayal...

No. No! I did not wish to feel this pain! My young processor could not accept this illusion of agony, this - promise of what was to come. What was it!? What would cause this - this agony! A flash, an image - just a second of picture... but it gripped my spark in an icy cold hand.

Optimus.

Optimus!

Optimus PRIME!

I opened eyes that did not belong to me and stared. I do not know for how long I lay there, vulnerable, collecting myself, but a voice called me into action.

"He-he's awake!"

I sat up slowly, feeling what I had already realized with much effort - that I was no longer myself. With narrowed eyes and a scowl I surveyed my surroundings. A cave, a hovel cut into the earth to hide me away. Broken machinary lay scattered against the walls, dwarfing me in my new state. Before me stood ... the Decepticons. Unfortunately encased, as was I, in this fleshy shell. There were four in all, kneeling before me. I could hear my human brain straining as it fought to keep up with my superior intelligence. I could easily identify these humans. The one far right carried a huge scar across one side of his face, twisting his lip upwards on one side in a permanent smirk. I recognized this scar - Blackout. The male in the center knelt with a hand across his chest in salute - I could think of only one Decepticon soldier who never failed to show respect when it was due - Barricade. As for the last two, I believe even a child could have identified them. There were no children in the Decepticon army, merely cassetticons - and labeling this human child as Rumble, clearly indicated to me that his companion with a large, healing hole in his chest, was Soundwave.

My anger was great, and as I stood my men shrunk back from me the slightest bit, acknowledging my state of mind. I drew my gaze to Soundwave and tried to keep my voice calm, in spite of my dire circumstances.

"Soundwave, report."

"Yes, Lord Megatron." I watched as Soundwave rose to his feet, Rumble clinging to his side. "After we were defeated by the Autobots in Mission City, Starscream returned to orbit and rejoined with the rest of us. We established a base here, on a continent known as Canada. With the assistance of Hook and his fellow Constructicons, we were able to tap into an unknown energy source and, in spite of the risks, used it to bring you to us. We then began repairs, and were quite sucessful. We then re-programmed the minds of the other Constructicons so that only Hook and myself would be aware of your presence and recovery. Starscream, commander in your absence, brought into our base a small fragment of a meteor he had encountered in space. This fragment contained within it an illness, the outcome being what you see before you. I had also sensed a strange form of sentience within the fragment before succombing to the contagion myself. This is all that I can tell you, my Lord."

After so many millions of years functioning I had learned a few things. One of which was that it was not always advantagous to take out my anger and frustrations upon those who did not deserve it, especially when they were all the help that I had. Not that this stopped me from doing just that on ocassion, but every good soldier needed reminding of his place from time to time. However at that very moment my anger spiked, and on it's head a name - yes, a single name for which I blamed everything on. My current and vile situation. My glorious Cybertronian body had been taken from me by one spark - by one... cowardly fool.

"Starscream." I hissed, balling my hand into a fist.

Blackout and Barricade exchanged glances with each other as they stood.

"Blackout reporting for duty, Lord Megatron."

"Barricade, ready as always, my leige."

"Good." I nodded, then turned to face Soundwave. "How far are we from the base?"

"My Lord, with all due respect-" Soundwave began, and I was beginning to notice that his voice was not as controlled as I was used to. It was - emotional. I did not like it, though it appeared there was little I could do about it.

"How far?" I repeated slowly.

"In these bodies it will take us close to an hour to return to the base."

"You don't want to go in there." Barricade supplied, moving forward and jerking a thumb against his fleshy chest. "I tried before all this slag started and the place is a blasting zone. The whole security system has gone haywire."

I looked to Soundwave, who gave a slow nod.

"Affirmative. The security system seems to have suffered a glitch. However, if my calculations are correct, by this time it should have fired upon itself until disabling."

"You mean it took itself out?" Blackout hissed, spitting onto the floor. "What a piece of junk."

"With the equipment that we had to work with at the time, Blackout, the base is a marvel."

"I'm sure." I growled, starting towards the cave mouth. "Soundwave, Barricade. Lead us to this base so that I can contact Cybertron and get rid of this filthy human flesh."

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

I could comment on the absurdity of the whole situation. I could spend hours reflecting upon how impossible the whole thing seemed. I could rant and rave like a lunatic about how much pain I intended to inflict upon my Air Commander once I got my hands on him. I could comment on the strenuious journey from the cave to the base. I could make any number of comments likewise, but I am not here to exemplify the state of self pity or self loathing. Suffice it to say - Soundwave's assumptions, as always, were correct, and during out arduous walk Blackout and myself were given a more detailed report of what had transpired in our absence. Starscream's list of things to answer for was growing.

Lifting Rumble with some difficulty, Soundwave was able to dictate the cassetticon in how to open the door with a safecode he had entered into the system days before the glitch. The large door slowly swung open, and our human bodies recoiled. Smoke billowed, dark and heavy, through the door and up into the sky. Barricade and Blackout doubled over, leaning onto various rocks for support as their human lungs attempted to expell the noxious gas. I waited until the smoke cloud turned into a single thin, whisped stream, and entered the base.

I did take a moment as I walked down the halls, following Soundwave as he took us towards the computer, to marvel at the hastily constructed base. Soundwave was indeed correct, again. With the limited supplies and time that my Decepticons had at their disposal, the base was sufficient, almost homey. Soundwave and Rumble again formed a human ladder to enter the code and gain us entry into the computer console.

"So, what exactly are you plannin' on tellin' Shockwave?" Barricade panted from behind me before slumping against the wall in exhaustion.

"Whatever I must to get his assistance."

I studied for a moment the computer, rubbing at my disgusting human chin as I did so. I could use the controls on the console manually to contact Shockwave in lieu of using my comm. link, my only obstacle would be climbing up to the console. I smiled as I noticed the small chair leaning crookedly against the far end of the console.

I felt four pairs of eyes on me as I walked across the room, and stood under the chair. I looked up for a mere second before pooling energy into my legs and leaping upwards. I caught the lip of the chair easily and hung suspended for a moment before using my new body's upper arm strength to pull myself into the chair. I was impressed, to say the least, with this strength. Perhaps I was not completely useless. I heard the others join me as I moved to stand near to the console. I repeated my actions, and hoisted myself up. This time, unfortunately, my flesh snagged upon a small dial and ripped open. I sneered at the sensation, but ignored the red liquid that dribbled down my arm.

I heard the grunting and groaning and sniggering as my four companions attempted to join me with marginal sucess. Soundwave remained grounded with Rumble, perhaps because of the wound in his chest.

I took another nano click to study the layout of the controls from a distance, memorizing them before moving forward until I stood within them. I looked up at the screen and then over my shoulder as Blackout and Barricade moved forward.

"Stop." I narrowed my eyes at them. "I never said I needed your assitance. I will do this alone." They glanced at each other, but complied as I knew they would and stepped back.

It took far longer than I would have liked for me to input the correct information and establish a link. I had not asked, but I assumed the controls functioned as the controls upon our ship Nemesis. I could see no reason why they would be arranged differently, and it seemed whoever had constructed the computer was thinking on the same lines.

The screen flickered into life, empty for a second before a familliar voice greeted us from off-camera.

"All hail Lord Megatron." Shockwave cooed, a small snap following his words. "I was not expecting word from you so soon, Commander Starscream." He continued, his voice dripping in disdain. "What can I do for-"

He paused as he walked into view of the monitor, right hand dripping in energon from an unknown source. His single optic flared for a moment, then faded as he walked slowly closer towards the screen. I could practically see his central processor working, trying to decipher what it was he was seeing - a single, naked human standing atop the Decepticon computer console. He looked over his pauldren for a moment, as if looking for someone, and then back to the computer.

"Tell me, Shockwave, why do you use this primative language over our own chanel?"

His optic blinked once, and he slowly took a seat in front of the screen - still silent. He lifted a hand to the bottom of his helm and rested it there in thought as his energon covered claws flicked a few nodules on his end, tapped curiously at the computer motherboard.

"Why not speak our own language? After all, we are the only ones here to hear it."

I watched as he tilted his helm just slightly in both directions, obviously attempting to scan the rest of the computer room for another life form - be it human or Cybertronian. He looked back down to the console suddenly and clicked a few buttons, pushed a dial or two, and then turned his attention to a smaller read-out screen I knew lay just out of my view. His optic flashed and he looked back at me.

"Explain yourself." Was all he said.

"Those scans you just ran, Shockwave - what did they tell you?"

I saw him hestiate before answering stiffly.

"I am obligated to tell you nothing until you explain yourself." I smiled. "How did you manage-" He paused as I began moving about on the console. He watched as I flipped open a pad and began to write him a message in basic binary. I could hear Blackout and Barricade shuffling closer to get a glimpse of the message I was about to send, but they held their distance and eventually gave up. Finishing my message I looked up in time to see Shockwave read it over once or twice before looking at me.

"All-... hail Lord Megatron." He said, sounding still a little unsure as he gave a salute.

"Good then, I trust we're at an understanding?" I watched as he nodded.

"How is this possible, my lord?"

"Starscream." I spat, crossing my arms across my chest. "Soundwave tells me he picked up a fragment of an odd meteor orbitting in this system, and that it infected us with these vile forms."

"With all due respect, Lord Megatron, that is impossible. Do you know what the statistical chances of all those components meeting together are? I'm not even sure there are numbers small enough. The likihood of a single meteor in orbit around any planetary system containing the information, nay the power, necessary to not only infect a race such as ourselves, but induce and produce a singluar anomaly such as this? To turn Cybertronians into ... humans? Homo sapien? My Lord, Earth is the only planet where these creatures are found. A coincidence so uncanny is unscientifically founded."

I nodded.

"I am aware, Shockwave. There is more going on here, but unfortunately trapped like this I do not have the means to make ammends."

He nodded slowly, tapping at the bottom of his helm again before standing and performing a few more scans, talking as he did so.

"I sense others with you, my liege."

"Yes. Four."

"Fascinating.." He muttered, standing with a small scroll of read-outs in his claws. "I can correctly identify you based upon your unique wavelengths and spark pulses. My Lord," he looked up at me and flared his optic, "there is still a spark contained within that unfortunate body."

I could not resist the urge to touch my human chest, longing for the comfort of feeling my spark pulse in response.

"That is good news, Shockwave."

"Perhaps better than you know, Lord Megatron. It appears there are other components of your true selves locked within your now biological body." He laid the read outs across the console and began activating another scan. "Since we are taking metaphoric leaps of faith and hypothesis, my Lord, it seems as if this contagion is not merely an illness. It has re-arranged your inner most functions, melted down your armor and compiled your bodies into a completely biological state. It has, I believe, forced you into a transformation the likes of which I have never heard of. Nothing like this has ever been recorded - nor dared thought of. The implications... Hmm.." He hummed in disappointment as he watched another read-out roll forward.

"What?"

"It appears as if we have a time constraint on finding a cure." He looked back up into the view screen and I cursed myself for not ordering him a faceplate that I could see the expression on. "According to this read-out, in just the few moments between scans..." He hesitated, then cleared his exhaust and continued, "there has been significant data loss within your processor."

"What?!"

"It - it seems as though, my Lord, the longer you are exposed to these new bodies the ... more permanent the changes will become."

"That is unexceptable!"

"I agree, my leige." He said cooly, taking his seat at the console once more. "This woud be a perfect opportunity to test the Space Bridge and my new protodriods."

"Space Bridge?" I raised my human optic ridges. "Protodroid?"

"Ahh, yes, Lord Megatron. The Space Bridge - Starscream, the Constructicons and myself were working on a means of furthering our contact with each other using a teledimensional portal which could create a hole through space-time and directly teleport a being, object or energy source directly from Earth to Cybertron. This vaccum was designed in such a way that it actually bent space between these two points, making the trip from Earth to Cybertron or vice versa, a mere insignificant matter of nanoclicks."

"Impressive.... You say Starscream assisted you?" I narrowed my eyes.

"He was once a scientist, my liege." He paused a moment before continuing. "Since receiving the initial transmission from Starscream about your new planetary location, I have begun running as many scans and diagnostics as I felt I could spare the energy to do so. It has been bothering me for quite some time as much of the data I got back suggested a partnership between Cybertron and this child planet, Earth. No so direct as I originally assumed, but there are traces of our readings there, my liege. Traces of read-outs, of wavelengths and energy signatures that can only point to one conclusion- Our ancient predescesors must have visited Earth milleniums ago."

"What does this have to do with our current situation, Shockwave?" I growled.

"Well, with the assistance of my Protodroid I believe it may be safe to assume that the locations of these readings and signatures might provide you with the energy to reverse these transformations. In other words, these signatures I've discovered are so pure that they may in fact cure this illness which hides your true beauty and power, my lord."

"Excellent, Shockwave. You impress me again. You always seem to step beyond my expectations for you."

"Thank you, my lord." He placed a clawed hand over his chest and bowed his helm.

"When can this Space Bridge be opperated?"

"Unfortunately, Lord Megatron, that is up to you." He stood and reached out to tilt the monitor, indicating a strange arch standing in the center of the communications tower. "The Space Bridge arch on my end is at full capacity. However my readings indicate that the work on the Earth bound Space Bridge is not complete. Certain repairs and recalibrations will need to be made before we can attempt to send so much as a dust molecule through."

I nodded, and brought a finger to tap at my fleshy chin. I was most assuredly not cut out for such work, and as leader of the Decepticons I had no obligations to submit myself to manual labor. Soundwave I would need to keep function as he was my most loyal and trustworthy agent on Earth, and I could not risk furthering his injury with tasking him to do such repairs. That left... I turned my gaze towards Blackout and Barricade.

"You gotta be kidding."

Transformers Contagion Chapter 34

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:07:14 GMT

"The Silver Puddle"

Narrated by Autobot Inferno

It was a nice day for a carwash. The sun was high, but the clouds were scattered so there was rest from the heat. The air was warm and dry, but not humid. Yes - the perfect day for a carwash.

Or, at least, that is what Sam's friend Miles told us.

He had made the claim that it would be good to get us outside and doing something, to take our minds off of our current predicament. I think, at least in this, he was correct. Afterall, I was not enjoying myself and I had a feeling neither was anyone else really. Except perhaps the younger bots. They seemed to have discovered that these new bodies had energy reserves much like our own, and seemed bent on depleting them. JumpStart was, by far, the most energetic. He kept all of us busy around the clock. Mikaela had taught him a marvelous new game called 'hide and seek', and it was all the sparkling wanted to play. Unfortunately he lacked the communication skills to convey this desire, and would simply sneak off to hide himself some place. We'd turn the base upside down to find him and he would merely giggle and do it again later.

I recalled the sparkling Academy near to my station on Cybertron. Always so full of laughter and tiny little metallic forms. I recalled that on more than one occassion my superior officers had to smack me in the helm to get me to return to duty - lest I spend all day watching the children like some femme.

I-I'm sorry. I've gotten way off track. I'm very sorry.. Uh, yes, right, the carwash.

After we'd all spent a day or so clothed in the spare fabrics that Sam, Mikaela and Miles provided for us, we all began to realize that, like it or not, this problem was going to be at least temporarily long-lasting and that we had better make the most of it. We needed our own clothes so that we could function without depending on our human friends. Afterall, we were not here to freeload from them. This did present a problem, however. Currency. It was almost a foreign concept to us, of course sure, Cybertronians had currency, we had to shop just like every other race - but it had been... years. Once war broke out stealing was one's only means of aquiring anything of necessity, and currency had fallen to the back of our processors, unless one traveled into friendly space past Cybertron. But such was not the case on earth, and Sam, Miles and Mikaela, being of their age and position - did not have nearly enough currency to provide for us what we would need. So, we would need to raise funds.

There had been a meeting of sorts called, wherein the lot of us - attempting to become accustomed to looking at each other as humans, pretended to be thoroughly engaged in the discussion... Trying to think of ways we could earn currency. Every time someone had an idea it was squashed with 'Oh, but I can't do that now..' or some likewise sentiment. That's when Miles, kind and heroic Miles, came to our aid.

He said he did not want to offend, but his idea was simple provided we were willing to 'play along', so to speak. He suggested that we run a charity Carwash. Now, I am not stupid, nor are my companions, so we easily assumed what this would entail, but were confused as to how this would raise currency for us to use. Miles had that covered - the clever child. He stated that the charity would be - us. No, not Autobots, but 'homeless'. It appeared that humans had their derelict and poor just as Cybertron did. We were not so different, were we? It was posed to us that we should pretend to be homeless humans for an afternoon and wash a few cars to earn currency for our supplies.

Optimus Prime was a little put off by the idea of lying to the public, posing as something we were not, and it was, surprisingly, Elita who pointed out to him that we were indeed home less. Cybertron, our home, was far far away. He relented, reluctantly, and Miles began putting his plan into action.

So, as I said before - it was a good day for a car wash, to quote Miles.

I placed my hands on my hips as I surveyed the scene before me with a smile. It almost felt like being back on Cybertron, stationed across from the sparklings... Uh, almost. Except, well, I wasn't watching over the sparklings so much as my team-mates. My fellow Autobots. My smile widened.

It had been, to my knowledge, marginally sucessful so far. The small jars scattered about labeled 'donations' were beginning to fill, mostly with heavy metallic coins, and Sam and Miles seemed eager to continue their efforts throughout the day.

"Enjoying the view, Inferno?" I tilted my head as I was joined by Elita One herself. Chuckling nervously I nodded.

"So much commotion down there, it's hard to think. I just - uh - came up here to gather my thoughts."

She nodded and for a second we both watched the happenings in silence.

There were three cars currently in our 'service'. Though it was becoming easier and easier to identify my fellow Cybertroninans as humans, I think I was able to name them all as they moved about below the small hill Elita and I perched on. The first car, a rather old model, what Sam and Miles called a 'clunker', was being taken care of by many of the younger Autobots - Arcee, Blurr, Bumblebee and Hotrod. It seemed to me as I watched them darting around the car, that they were more engaged in staging war against each other than they were about actually getting the car clean. Arcee and Hotrod had stationed themselves on one side of the car and Blurr and Bumblebee took the other. Arcee and Hotrod stood back to back, laughing as Hotrod swung the hose around and aimed deadcenter on Blurr's chest. Blurr stumbled backwards and hit the ground, laughing as hard as his attackers. Bee rounded the end of the car and snuck up on Arcee, shoving a soapy spunge between her chest pieces. Hotrod turned the hose on him and the trio laughed. I wondered if they'd even pretended to wash the car. The second car was a little nicer on the optics, sleek and streamlined. It appeared the twins had taken over on this one, but they were cleaning no more than the others. With Sunstreaker on one side and Sideswipe on the other, the young female who owned the car was effectively pinned between them. She didn't seem to mind, however. She was giggling and shoving at them playfully, responding to whatever they were saying in exactly the way I assumed they wanted her to. They were flirting. The last car on the lot was probably the only one that would actually be getting what it was there for - cleaned and possibly tuned-up in the process. I quickly identified Wheeljack and Ratchet at the car's hood, bent over and talking rapidly.

I heard Elita chuckle and returned my attention to her curiously.

"At least they are preoccupied." She said after a moment, smiling. It was a contagious expression that I soon found myself mimicking. I nodded and she put a hand on my arm. I blinked at her.

"I remember too, Inferno." She said calmly, and I looked away. "If you - need to talk about it..?"

"Thank you, Elita." I said sincerely, turning to look at her, locking my humaniod optics on her own. "I'll just remember the pleasant. I'd rather not talk."

Her smile returned, but it didn't reach her eyes. Odd.

"I see." She pulled her hand back and started down the hill. "I'm always audios, Inferno, especially for those I've known so long."

I smiled through half of my mouth before deciding to follow her. As I watched her walk ahead of me, in spite of her barely clad humanoid body, I saw her as she was - one of the most powerful Cybertronians I had ever met. For a moment I imagined she was no longer human, we were no longer on Earth - we were on Cybertron. Our station was so quiet - so... so very quiet. Elita was talking over the other voices, argued voices - but her voice stood out among them. Bluestreak had been so young then, shuddering to hold the door up with the aid of RedAlert. First Aid and Elita shouted well into the night until she beat down his resolve. I had heard, once a very long time ago, that Decepticon sparklings were taught that fembots were lesser compared to men. That they were soft, that they were not meant for war. I did not believe them. Working directly under the command of Elita One for years - I could not understand such a sentiment. Optimus Prime was our leader, he was our last hope - but Elita was my commander.

"Inferno! There you are!" I was jarred from my thoughts, startled that I'd sunk so far into memory, by RedAlert, frantic as always. I smiled at him, knitting my eyebrows together in afterthought. He was drenched and covered in soapy residue. I reached out to touch a bubble on his ear.

"Red - what-"

"That machine tried to eat me!" He declared, turning to point behind him at the offending machine. I looked up, and cocked my head to the side.

"Oh uh - I don't know about that Red. The sign says 'Out Of Order'. If it was going to eat you, I think it'd have to be functional first." RedAlert shook his head violently, holding onto my arm as if letting go meant sure death.

"You didn't see it, Inferno!" He insisted, looking up at me with wide eyes.

I smiled back at him widely, closing my own fleshy optics and chuckling. I tried for a moment or two to thrum my core at him, to help calm him down and bring around his logic chips - but I didn't have the pieces necessary to do so. I relented after a moment, and leaned forward to kiss Red's forehead. He leaned back and fixed me with a stare which clearly stated he knew I was just humouring him. He threw his hands in the air and stomped back out towards the cars.

"Of course you don't believe me. Nobody believes me! Nobody ever believes me! Ack!" I winced a little as he tripped over a bucket and soaked his borrowed pants up to the knee.

I shook my head and started a slow path towards Miles, who was seated on the ground next to an elderly looking man whom I did not recognize. As I got closer I realized with great anxiety, that he must have assumed this human was one of us.

"-ould be a good line to pick up chicks. I mean, how many men can say 'Hey baby, come on back to my place where giant effing robots will protect us?'"

"Uh, huh... Miles!" I chuckled, darting over and bending down to put a hand on his arm. "Um, can I- uh, speak with you a moment?"

"Huh?" Miles looked from me to the old man, then back. "You gotta tell me something you can't tell Kup?"

"Um, well that's just it. Miles- that's not Kup."

"Oh." I watched as realization dawned slowly. "Oh!" Miles leapt to his feet and stared down at the old man. The old man looked up, smiled a smile full of rotten teeth, and walked away silently. Miles and I exchanged looks.

"I believe he might be a real homeless man."

"Yeah. Smelled enough like one." Miles complained, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding to Sam as the other boy came jogging over.

"Hey -we need more supplies." Sam said after a second to catch his breath. I turned to watch the Autobots as they continued behind me.

Elita had joined Ratchet and Wheeljack, and seemed to be listening to them with pursed lips. I smiled, knowing them they had tried something, or wanted to try something, and were trying to get her to agree to it. She didn't look as though she was buying it. The twins were now actually washing the car they'd been leaning on, and were doing so with some... unique methods. Arcee and her small group seemed to have finished on their car, and were gathered in a small circle. I noted with a tilt of my head that there was something odd about Arcee and Hotrod as they stood so close. His arm was around her waist and though she made no move to remove it, nor did her face show any sign of agitation, but she had her hip cocked in the opposite direction, clearly intending to put space between her body and his.

"Well, I'm not going. I can't just leave the Autobots here alone. No offense, Inferno, but who knows what kind of trouble they'll cause." Sam was saying.

"Uh, what? Oh, yes. None taken." I smiled as I turned back around.

"Well - I'm not going either. I'm heading up this little charity thing and I need to be here as overseer."

"We won't have anything for you to oversee if we don't get more supplies. The store is like, right there, Miles. Ten minutes."

"We need supplies?" I said, nodding a little. "I can go get them."

"I really don't think that's a good idea." Sam said quickly, but Miles stepped up to him.

"Why not? Inferno's like - one of the sanest ones out of the bunch. No offense man, I know you and Red are like - tight or, whatever."

"Again, none taken."

Miles and I both looked to Sam, and for a moment he looked apalled, but then he sighed and nodded in defeat.

"Alright. I guess you're right. Hard to really mess up anyway." He smiled up at me and took a plastic card from his pants pocket and handed it to me. "Soap, the safe for cars kind. You can ask one of the store clerks. Get sodas too. Enough for all of us." I nodded, smiling back at him. "All you have to do is follow this road, Inferno." He put a hand on my arm and spun me to face the road in question. "You see the traffic lights just up the hill? Take a right. The grocery store will be right in front of you. Go in, get what we need and pay, and come right back."

"Go to the traffic light, and turn right. Soap that's safe for cars and sodas. Ask the clerks." I closed my eyes with a grin and tried to give a reassuring nod. "Easy. I'll be back before you know it!"

I was determined to prove myself capable of functioning in the humans' world, and I'm sure my walk exemplified this. I... well, I strutted. I thought briefly about fetching Red to accompany me, but I figured it would be faster on my own. I had enough sense, even though I hadn't been instructed to do so, to stay on the far right side of the road so as to not be a target for the incoming driver's. As a car sped past I heard something on the wind. I paused, cocked my head to one side - and heard it again. It was a voice. I turned towards it and frowned.

"Tev-tev... He~re kitty!" It was an elderly woman, dressed in a faded pink bathrobe. She was standing in her yard gazing worriedly into a tall tree. She seemed quite distressed. I frowned and detoured from my path to see if I could help.

"Tev-tev... Ki~tty!"

"Ma'am?" I said quietly, folding my hands in front of me as I approached. She looked down from the tree and stared at me for a moment, and I could tell she was trying to get a steady visual on me so I slowed to a stop and smiled happily.

"Oh.. hello there young man." She blinked at me and smiled a little herself. "Can I - help you?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, ma'am." I took another slow step forward, not wanting to startle the frail woman, and peered up into the tree. "Is there... something wrong?"

"Oh, oh yes." The woman nodded, hopeful anticipation in her voice. "My kitten Tev-tev is stuck up in that tree! He can't get down and the fire department refuses to come help."

I frowned and looked back down at her.

"They do?" She nodded vigorously and moved forward to put two shaking, tiny hands on my arm.

"Oh please, young man, could you get my kitten for me? I'll reward you for your bravery. That kitten is my only friend... my only family left. He means - a lot to me."

I smiled and put one of my hands over her's, nodding.

"Of course I'll get him for you! Stand back now, I don't want to kick dirt on you." I moved her back gently and then began to strategically climb the tree. As I scaled slowly upwards I began to notice that the shorts that I had borrowed from Miles were - well - quite breezy. It was a very pleasant feeling, actually, as I noticed early during my time as a human that the area where my lower panel should have been was rather - confined and hot. It was uncomfortable to say the least. But this breeze was pleasant. I heard the old woman give a soft gasp, followed by what I can only describe as a cooing noise. I tilted my head to look down at her and caught her looking away, fanning herself with a hand. I shrugged and continued upwards.

"Oh. Hello there, kitten." I chuckled as my head popped through a few branches and I came face to face with the kitten. He was hunched over on a small branch and was eyeing me warily. I reached out a hand and offered him a smile.

"I won't hurt you. I'm going to take you back down to the ground." I reached out and pulled the kitten towards my chest. He seemed too frightened to move and curled against me with a soft growling noise.

"Easy, kitten." I attempted a soothing voice as I climbed quickly back down the tree, kitten wrapped tightly in my arms. Hitting the ground I slowly passed the creature to his mother.

"Oh - oh thank you!" The old woman sighed happily, snuggling her face against the kitten. She looked up at me and held up a finger.

"I'm going to take him inside where he belongs. You stay right there young man, I'll be right back."

I nodded, smiling wide as she returned to the house. I wasn't so much looking forward to her promised reward as I was pleased that I had not only proved useful in my human body - but saved a life! Er, essentially. My face felt ready to break open I was smiling so hard as the woman came back out and took my hand.

"Here you are, my hero." She said softly, placing a stack of green in my hand which I quickly identified as currency. She lifted my other hand and closed them around the money.

"I can't accept this, ma'am." I said politely, but she shook her head.

"No, no. You take it and you spend it on something nice for yourself." She paused, then as a rosey color rose to her cheeks she poked me in the mid-section and chuckled to herself. "You're going to make some lucky lady very, very happy."

I blinked at her in confusion as she walked off. I turned back towards the road and paused looking from the traffic lights back to the car wash. I looked down at the currency in my hands - paper currency was called cash, and Mikaela said it was never a good idea to carry cash with you anywhere. I needed to give it to Sam and Miles to hold for me while I got the rest of the supplies. I hoped they would understand my detour.

They were easy to find, and Sam practically ran to my side once he recognized me. He gave me a once over and frowned.

"Uh - where are the supplies?"

"Oh well, I-I hope you don't mind but there was this old woman-" I started, I saw Sam tense up and put a hand to his head. "Her kitten was up a tree and so I got it down for her."

"Wait... Did I hear that correctly?" Miles asked as he walked up to us. "The-the firetruck just rescued some lady's cat from a tree?"

I didn't seem to get the joke, but both Miles and Sam cracked up a little. Sam eventually looked back to.

"Nah, that's ok Inferno. Good for you. Uh - so, why'd you come back then and not just go on to the store?"

"Well, she gave me a reward and Mikaela said one should never carry cash with you."

Miles and Sam exchanged looks.

"How much did she give you?" Miles asked, eyeing me curiously. I produced the bills and deposited them in Miles' hand. I watched as his eyes, and then Sam's, grew so large they threatened to break free of their skulls.

"H-o-l-y...."

"-five thousand dollars, Batman." Miles finished for his friend, shaking his head as he looked up at me. "And she just - gave this to you?"

I nodded.

"Yes. I attempted to give it back but she insisted. Told me to buy something nice and - well, and that I was going to make some woman very happy some day." I shrugged, but once again it appeared there was a joke there that I was not privy to.