This was originally posted over on my AO3 account (agiftedmind), and after some thought, I have decided to post it here as well, though at least one chapter will be in an edited form.

This fits into the backstory of my TFA AU: The Way of your World, but you don't really have to read that to understand this one.

It was supposed to have been a simple scouting mission. In and out, easy. Reports had the Decepticons busy elsewhere and not in the area. It was the perfect time to scout out a planet for the newest 'bridge and its guard Colony.

He was there because as much as he was a sniper, he knew how to fight.

Yet, something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Likely Intel. He hoped it was, because his team was dead thanks to an ambush that had taken out the shuttle and killed all but him; he'd been forced to witness it before being allowed to flee.

It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last, and he cut that line of thought with a ruthlessness born of survival learned in open warfare.

Now he was literally fleeing for his life across the planet's rocky, uneven terrain as three Decepticons chased him towards the looming mesa and canyon walls. He didn't want to go there, but every time he tried to veer away, potshots brought him back onto the route they wanted him to take.

It was cat and mouse; they were toying with him and he knew it oh so so so well.

His spark trembled and his wheels slipped against a rock, sending him into wild, uncontrolled fishtail as he struggled to regain control of his driving before the racers caught up to him. Wheels spun under him, finding purchase against the ground at last and he zoomed off, hoping against hope that he'd outrun them.

He didn't think he would; they were so close now and they were racers; built for speed over power, yet they were also Decepticon - and he knew they contained powerful engines. If they'd been a menace on the battlefields of war, then they were outright terrifying now and the war had ended. Officially, that was.

The laughing, mocking jeers drew closer as if to urge him on, taunting him with what they'd do to him if he tired out now.

One of them pulled level with him, and he had to make a sharp turn to avoid being rammed.

"Awwww. No kiss?"

He barely understood them; it'd been so long since he'd paid any attention to what he'd painfully learned in those scant vorns under-

The Autobot pushed his engine to make him go faster. No matter how it hurt, how much pain he was in, he had to outlast them somehow. Had to - had to find a way to escape, and as the mesa walls loomed, his spark bleated panicked distress. If he went in there, he'd be trapped. He didn't doubt they knew this area; they played across it like it was the back of their hand.

In the distance, he could hear the rumble of other engines.

The whooping of sirens he knew too well, too intimately.

His spark blanched horror and his engine stalled, momentum slowing as friction slowly took over again while memory after memory of abuse, of near death, of death games and the sadistic slagger's version of fun assaulted his cortex.

something over him with a grin/red optics/pain as deadly claws tore it off/pleasure as one of them assaulted his doorwings, the other his spark/nonono he was screaming as they tore his sparkplates open/the sheer terror that swept him at being literally unable to open his sparkplates for his masters' pleasure, the Looks and then the pleased smirks-

no no no nonono NOT AGAIN PLEASE-

His engine engaged, choked and sputtered as he forced it back up to its top speed as he took the only option and dove into the canyon, hoping, praying, screaming in his own mind that he'd outrun Him. He fishtailed around a corner then took a left as he blindly followed the walls, sensors attempting to keep up with demands he track his tormentors, listen for them over his own engines and find a bolthole that he could wait them out in - or find a way out of the blasted maze he'd run headlong into like a frightened youngling.

He took a left with a fishtail, not knowing where it'd lead, but it was better than running into a Decepticon -

And suddenly he had Decepticons up his aft after him, this time close enough to feel the energonlust and dark, dark promises of pain and pitfire. The sniper pushed himself forward, wringing every gram of energy he had from his frame and engine.

It still wasn't enough, and slowly, slowly, he found himself slipping on rocky ground as his speed gave way to exhaustion and overclocking systems. Twice he was almost rammed into the wall, twice he pulled ahead, only for one of them to pull away, twice he'd almost run into the purple Freightliner when it'd suddenly appeared.

Then, they pulled away, melting back into the canyon like they'd never been there, only he knew they were still there. Just because his own engine had almost deafened him -

His speed slowed, and again he pushed himself on, vents heaving, choking as he tried to pull in enough air to cool rapidly overheating systems.

Lurid neon-pink warnings lit up his HUD. He had no choice but to stop, or he'd face critical engine failure. A moment's rest was worth the risk; engine failure would leave him helpless, unable to even move while his spark burned in its casing as vents slowly choked on the demands to heave in cool air. It was not a pleasant fate as it would send him offline, and dangerously close to spark failure and it wasn't a fate he wanted -. He slowly slowed to a stop, pressing himself back under an overhang and flung every vent and door he had open, sucking in as much cool air as possible and fans whirred and clicked, protesting the rush of air. Heat wavered around him as he frantically dumped it on the outside, yet he didn't care.

Hands gripped for the rifle that was no longer there as blue optics looked around- No. That memory needed to cease now. He forced himself to strain blown audios to the limit so that he might hear anything other than the looping sound-memory of his own engine.

Eventually, something crashed into him, and on instinct, he transformed, flailing against the black-and-white attacker until the blade of a zrill was pinning them above his head, another so, so close to his helm that he stilled, sky-blue optics wide, panicked.

NO NO NO-

He didn't scream, even if his optics widened even more as panic attempted to claim his systems. He was too, too well trained for that, even with a voice.

Panic turned to terror as the blade pinning his hands dug in deeper, his captor, tormentor - master - leaning his weight just so, only stopping as three sets of footfalls approached.

"Awww. Caught already?"

"He didn't even make it to MM and 'Down."

"We should let it go, what do you think 'Caders?"

Cruel, cruel optics looked down at him, all four unblinking as his tormentor considered. Weight shifted, the blades came closer and the Autobot let out a static zrkt as his engine whined inside his frame. Wheels spun uselessly against the surface he was pinned to.

"Maybe after I tear it's pretty array out and feed it to it," 'Cade laughed, leaning in low to savour his victim's terror. The Autobot whimpered, optics squeezed shut. "Always did like huntin' the kills down. Yet..."

nonononononononono this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Claws touched him -

Pain bloomed as alerts registered what had been ripped away. There was a claw in his port, pressing against the soft coppercoil wires that lined it.

"N-No Master. Please-" he squealed, forcing himself against the claws.

"Well, at least you remember how to beg."

The claw dug in and the Autobot screamed, even as his body jerked into the cruel, cruel touch like a traitorously trained thing. "Please- Master-"

Even as the Decepticons crowded in, Bluestreak knew the words falling from his vocaliser would save his life, if not his array; he knew well how much Wildrider liked his plug, how Barricade enjoyed fragging him. He knew well how much both enjoyed him.

Even as memories - good and bad- started to hit him as he writhed, pleaded and screamed under the torture that was inflicted, under the rapes, he knew they'd keep him alive.

If they wanted him dead, he'd be dead.

Zrill is Barricade's melee weapon. Saw the name in a fic, and it stuck.

Let me know you think!