Hi! Here is my new story, A Spark in the Darkness!
Universe: G1, with Prime characters.
Genre: Horror, Mystery, Suspense, Drama
Rating: T
Warnings: Likely gore in future chapters. Possible angst, depression, and insanity.
Summary: When Rodimus was made a Prime, there was something his predecessors couldn't figure out about him. Something….dark. Evil. Uncontrollable. Yet there seemed to be enough light in his spark to cancel out those negative feelings. But when they begin to resurface, and Rodimus grows more violent and irrepressible, will the former Primes begin to regret their decision?
Author Notes: Nothing else to say, really. So...enjoy!
It was loud. Oh so loud.
But what could one expect—they were on a battlefield.
He knew he was not known for his pleasant moods, but his mood was rapidly deteriorating. Cursed with a phenomenal processor ache, the pain building in his helm was growing worse each passing breem. No, he would not go to the medic; what would be the point? He did not want pain chips or an enforced leave from work. He would fight, no matter his current condition, and support his team.
Yet he knew it was a matter of time before someone found out. They were always stressing over him. Sure, he was not his fearless and extremely courageous predecessor Optimus, but his team just never knew when to stop. It was starting to drive him a little crazy.
"Incoming!"
Springer's voice reached him, thunderous as always and doing nothing for his leader's immense processor ache, through the mass of fighting Cybertronians. With a quiet vent, Rodimus turned and fired his blaster, his annoyance resurfacing as the Seeker trinemate Thundercracker merely slid back a few feet only momentarily stunned. Sensors flaring, the Prime ducked at the last and least expected moment, the body of the blue Seeker's mate—a cursing mech who happened to be Starscream—crashing into Thundercracker with a harsh clang; the Prime hissed as the sleek metal of the airborne mech scraped harshly over his wings, shredding the sensitive metal and sending searing pain throughout his neural network. With a scowl, Rodimus straightened and turned to glare at the green triple-changer.
/Don't blame me. I did give you a warning./ The massive warrior spoke through an encrypted communications line, currently in a brutal fist fight with a viciously grinning Astrotrain.
/You did, but yet you somehow always manage to try to clip my wings./ Flaring the powerful appendages, the dark orange mech bit back a groan as the painful pressure building in his helm roared.
Springer, ever the observant mech, narrowed his optics as he noticed his leader grimace in a way that made him rather concerned for the other's health. /Rodimus, you okay?/
/Quit worrying about me and keep your helm in the game!/ The Prime snarled, whipping around to parry a blow from an enraged Starscream. Dentia clenched in a futile attempt to nullify the strengthening pounding in his helm, Rodimus reached out, wrapping his servo in an iron grip around the Seeker's throat.
The Second-in-Command of the Decepticons hissed, scraping his talons over his attacker's armor. "Release me at once, you pathetic excuse for an Autobot!"
Rodimus scowled, narrowing his optics. "I think not, Seeker." His grip tightened slowly and his upper mouthplate curled in an enraged sneer. Starscream choked, optics widening in the fear he was known for as his processor began to slow from halted Energon flow.
"Rodimus."
The voice startled him, tearing the Prime from the foggy miasma his mind had been wrapped in, as a heavy and warm servo landed on his shoulder panel. Springer stood next to him, flanked by a concerned looking Arcee, Blurr, and Wheelie.
"You can let him go now," Springer muttered, flicking his optics over in a disgusted manner to the weakly struggling trineleader. "He isn't going anywhere."
Rodimus fixed his gaze back on Starscream, who was now eerily silent, seemingly strangled into unconsciousness. With a tired vent, the Prime dropped the unconscious mech, pressing his mouthplates together with a slight grimace as the pain in his helm increased.
"Boss bot okay, done with the play?" Wheelie asked, tilting his helm.
Rodimus shook his helm, immediately regretting it as the aching grew stronger in a relentless manner. "Fine, Wheelie. Fine." He raised his voice, addressing his team. "We are heading back to base!"
Before he could do so, however, black darted in and out of his vision and his optics flickered. Springer and Blurr noticed and immediately steadied the larger mech, mindful of his scarred wings.
"Rodimus..."
The Prime rumbled deep in his chest, his engine growling. "Get off. I said I am fine."
Blurr shook his helm, widening his large blue optics. "Forgive my saying, but you clearly are not 'fine.' I do not know if you know this, but your core temperature is rather abnormally high, and you seem to have trouble cycling air throughout your rather large frame if I am allowed to say so myself. Now, I don't know about you, but that does not qualify as 'fine' in my book." Of course, this was all said in barely one vent, yet the surrounding Cybertronians could all understand the young mech. Rodimus, it seemed, was nowhere near pleased with what he had just been told.
Rodimus scowled, wings flaring in a dangerous and aggressive wide position. "It is merely a helm ache if my health is concerning you. It is nothing to overwhelm yourself about."
"Rodimus, are you certain?" Arcee spoke up, tilting her helm. "You don't look fine."
The Prime vented in a slightly hoarse manner, cringing ever so slightly as the pain began to travel throughout his chassis. "It is nothing rest cannot fix, Arcee. I will be…fine…" Suddenly the Commander of the Autobots cried out, his legs giving out beneath him. Blurr and Springer nearly dropped the large mech, but they quickly regained their bearings and steadied the other once more.
"Rodimus, what's wrong?" Arcee demanded, pink armor flaring ever so slightly.
The Prime snarled, narrowing his optics. "Stay away." His voice was a low and dangerous growl, so uncharacteristic for the normally quiet mech.
"Boss bot has lost it, seem to come off it?" Wheelie chirped, his servos twitching as if eager to get into something.
"Do not say that," Springer growled, narrowing his optics. "He is fine; stop trying to convince us otherwise. All he has is a processor ache."
The childlike little mech seemed hurt, optics widening to an almost unbearable level of innocence. "Wheelie not be mean, the intent is clean." He spoke in a soft murmur, looking down as he stepped away from the larger mech.
"Oh, look what you've done!" Arcee snapped. "You made him feel bad! You hurt his feelings!"
Springer bared his dentia. "Who cares about the kid's feelings? He should know better."
"Stop it, stop it!" Rodimus caught their attention again when he shuddered violently, his powerful wings held wide and his armor flaring aggressively. "Just be quiet and let me…rest…" His optics began to drift shut and his vents began to stall.
Springer shook him awake gently. "Come on, big mech. We need you awake."
Rodimus snarled once more, shaking his helm. "No, you do not. Just leave me alone!" His voice deepened, filled with irritation and exhaustion. "This is why I did not want you to know…"
Blurr piped up. "Know what, sir? Is it a secret? Well, if it was you obviously would not tell us; that is why a secret is a secret. But then why would you be keeping secrets? Skeletons in the closet, hmm? Or maybe—"
"Blurr!" Springer growled again, roughly shoving the mech. "Enough!"
The younger mech narrowed his optics but stopped talking as Springer made to speak to the nearly unconscious Prime. "Rodimus, will you please speak to us so we can know what is wrong?"
Rodimus shuddered, shifting slightly in the triple-changer's grasp. "I…" He drew in a ragged vent, hot air blowing from his respiratory systems.
"Yes?" Arcee urged, clasping her servos in eager anticipation.
Rodimus seemed to snap out of a haze. He forcefully yanked Springer's servos off of him, his claws tearing into the green mech's armor.
"I told you before; I am fine. So stop worrying and…" He grimaced and stumbled slightly, optics flaring brightly at anyone who tried to help. "…just leave me be…"
Before anyone could react fast enough, the Prime's optics darkened and he collapsed with a harsh clang, his offline frame limp and cold.
There's that! I just came up with this idea. Hope you liked!
P.S. Is anyone out of character? I do not really know Springer's character that well, so...