New Sparks, Old Issues
Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Transformers: Prime, just my own OCs and the basic plot.
A/N: Welcome to my new story! This is my first Transformers Prime story but I have been on this site for a while and have posted a bit but not as much as I have wanted. I promise I am going to start pushing myself to get more done and actually post it instead of letting it collect dust on my computer's hard drive... Anyway if you have read my other story's you can probably see that I am awful at updating, I will try to get a chapter up every second week or so but no promises.
Anyway the title of this story is only temporary until I think of one that is better.
Also I do not have a beta for this story so all mistakes are mine, no one else to blame except for me, myself, and I.
Warning: Light description of injury, there is a bit of romance in this story but only of the kissing variety.
Word count: 996
*word*- Flashback
Talk talk talk talk talk talk- Thoughts
~Hi, I am word(s)~-Any bond communication
More words- Comm.
{So many words}- Written on screens, data pads, books
The quiet pitter-patter of tiny glitch-mice pedes echoed in the eerily silent cell. The dull gray organic-metal vermin scurried across the floor, their tiny processors barely registering the sticky purple substance that covered the floor and coated their paws nor the nearly overpowering stench of pain, fear, and spilt cybertronian fluids.
Golden optics flickered online as a pained groan forced its way out of an equally tortured vocaliser causing the glitch-mice to freeze mid step.
The large navy blue mech shifted, ignoring the energon cuffs binding his wrists in front of him, forcing his aching frame off the floor and into a sitting position against the cold metal wall. The screech of metal sent the many glitch-mice scurrying to the far corners of the cell where the huddled in groups, watching their large cell mate.
The sound of rattling metal rang through the still air as the mech trembled with exhaustion and pain, simple things like lifting a servo keeping his optic online more difficult than they should be.
He off lined his optic, letting his helm loll back against the wall supporting him as his processor sluggishly recalled what happened to get him tossed in the brig.
The last thing he really remembered was sitting in the Nemesis, cleaning and polishing his hammers and receiving a frantic comm. from his mate before static suddenly filled his audios and the frequency was cut off. Thinking something terrible must have happened to his bondmate, he leapt to his pedes, intent on rushing to his their shared quarters. He would have to, if his systems hadn't suddenly glitched, each one filling with static one by one and crashing in quick succession until only vital life systems were left running and everything went dark.
His frame jerked, optic powering on with a start as his audios picked up a faint moan.
The large navy blue mech slowly twisted to the side, his spark filling with dread as his optics fell on a crumpled red form at the other side of the cell.
Panic soon pushed its way in with the pain and dread as he recognized his mates usually glossy, now dull and scratched, red finish. It only took his sluggish processor a moment to fully process what his optic was feeding it, and when it did the single gold orb widened in horror.
The mech scrambled unsteadily to his pedes, his sudden movement caused some of the braver (stupider) glitch-mice to scurry back to the dark corners from where they had ventured from. Stumbling over his feet, he made his way to the prone form.
Wiper fluid tears filled his optics as he fell to his knees, gently rolling the limp figure over and carefully cradling him against his chest. The cuffs on his wrist joints making it difficult but he managed with some carful maneuvering.
Venting deeply, Breakdown pushed aside the growing panic and focused on the faint presence brushing against his spark while he lightly caressed a pale cheek with the back of his fingers.
The large mech nearly sobbed in relief when he felt the steady presence pulsing through the bond signifying that the ruby mech was in a medical induced statis caused by his injuries. While still dangerous, a medical statis would give a mechs self-repair systems time to heal; being in one while said mech was still bleeding out with no form of energon intake was not a good idea.
Breakdown shifted his mate to lay on the cleanest part of floor he could find before leaning back to take stock of the various injuries' littering the red battered frame. Not having any of the proper medical tools needed, the only real repairs he could do were concentrate his internal heating to his fingers and pinch shut the broken energon lines.
Leaning back once again, the former wreaker winced as his own injuries pulled. Energon dripped down his chest plates as wounds fixed by self-repair tore and reopened.
Running a self-diagnostic, Breakdown determined that none of his injuries were immediately fatal, brushed aside the red warnings that popped up on his HUD and went to work sealing what he could reach of his own leaking lines.
Finished repairing what he was able to, he leaned back onto his servos and frowned as he felt a sticky substance coating the palm of his servo. Lifting his servo in front of his face, the dim glow of his one optic reflected off the neon red fluid covering his servo.
The large blue mech cursed softly as he rolled the smaller mech gently onto his side. He cursed again when he saw the ruptured lines running vertically up his back.
He reheated his fingers and pinched the first dripping line he could reach while accessing his Comm.
Only to find access to both private and public Comm. frequency's deactivated. A quick check revealed all weapons offline as well, neither was very surprising.
Breakdown could feel the spark next to his own getting weaker, its already erratic pulses even more unsteady that just a few click before. He shuddered slightly and attempted to wrap the weakened spark in his presence, tried to synch its pulses with his own.
It worked, slowly he could feel the erratic beat grow slightly more steady.
Knockout needed medical attention from a real medic, not some field trained, medical assistant, ex-wreaker.
A new pop-up appeared on his HUD display, this one plane black and white. Someone was pinging him with an encrypted private Comm. channel.
Understandably hesitant to accept, Breakdown took a closer look at the message, carefully studying the encrypted codes and programming.
Breakdown could have sobbed with relief when he recognized the basic underlying code. Instead he took a few moments to compose himself and fixed his gaze on the slack, energon stained faceplates before accepting the call, No time to explain what happened, we need to leave right now, it's an emergency. HE knows.
A/N: So how was it? I wrote the last part while I was on March break sick with Strep throat (what a great break) so I am not sure how well written it is, sorry. Again I am not sure when I will be posting the next chapter; I want to get all the personality's right (even if Breakdown and Knock Out will both be a bit OOC) but I will try with regular updates, probably every two weeks or so… maybe… hopefully… Lucky for you I have the first page and a half hand written of the next chapter, considering this was 4 and a half written by hand a update next weekend is looking pretty good.