Hello readers, its ThemSoundWaves back with yet another fantiction. Oh, my muse has been rocky lately, and ive sure been struggling, but through it all I still get these plot bunnies in my head.
As a general warning, the first two to three chapters of this fanfiction are rated R. Explicit non-con and rape, If you do not like it, do not read it. Thats why I have this at the start, and not the end. There is very mature language and themes, and I havent decided if it'll get better or worse as we go.
Please enjoy this read, After all, I write for myself as well as you. I will respond to reviews at the end of each chapter, and I will regard each and everyones input and opinion gratefully. For now, Enjoy the show.
[DISCLAIMER: I do not own transformers, Nor do I own any chatacter within this fantiction. This fanfiction is set in AU, With a loose timeframe. You can assume that most characters are alive at this point. Set on earth, criticism welcome.]
WARNINGS
The first couple chapters will be dark, gritty, and full of evil deeds. MATURE READERS ONLY! I am NOT going to 'sweeten' it up for you, or 'skip' the scene as many others do. You're going to get all the details... horrific or not. so brace yourselves, oh, and... If you don't like this kind of thing, don't read it, Don't comment. Thats why i warn you in advance. I've censored many of my writings before. Not this time. [[TEEN AND UP BECAUSE I KNOW SOME TEENAGERS ARE MATURE ENOUGH TO READ THIS CONTENT, IF YOU DO NOT THINK YOU ARE MATURE ENOUGH DO NOT READ. THIS FIC IS VERY DARK AND CAN BE TRIGGERING, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK]]
WARNINGS
Non-con/rape
Swearing, Cybertronian and English.
Flashbacks, triggers.
Violence.
Explicit depictions of violence.
MATURE READERS ONLY
CHAPTER ONE.
Junkyard muse.
It was a nice day today, Bluestreak observed, as he wondered through the bases' halls. It was mid-morning, and it seamed the base itself was calm. His wings waggled behind him, as he half trotted half walked towards the nearby recreational room. On a nice day like this, with no Decepticons in sight, There was sure to be 'bots hanging out in the basic lounge area, drinking and talking, and everything else under the earthen sun. Bots he could talk to, bots he could entertain, bots that could distract him from his thoughts, from the war for a while.
He stood in front of the Rec. rooms' doors, and waited. The automatic doors had a bit of a delay, Something Wheeljack kept casually mentioning he'd fix, but everyone knew it wasn't important enough in the inventors agenda for him actually take time in carrying out. The doors hissed open, creaking just slightly, moving to reveal the room before him. In the rec room, there was a stage, a bar, tables and couches, an area designated the TV corner, with large makeshift recliners and the biggest TV the humans could manage building for them. An energon station, a large empty concrete square in the middle of the room that could hardly be called a dance floor. He saw an array of faces, though, only two of which were faces that actually liked talking to him.
Bluestreak was a young mech, The youngest among them. And though he was young, he was still strong and mature, at least, he liked to think he was mature. In a few cycles, Bluestreak would be turning seventeen vorns. He didn't exactly know what cycle his creation date was… but he knew it was soon. He could barely remember his life on Cybertron. He was just a sparkling when the war broke out, his earliest memory was that of his brother, Prowl, Showing him Praxus's Crystal garden.
The young Paraxians door wings perked up as he began over towards the TV area, where Ironhide sat on the couch [that was actually a couple crates and some blankets] Hound was quite literally reclined on the recliner beside the large red Autobot, so much so that his body was entirely flattened [As much as the pudgy mech's body could flatten that is]. Sunstreaker was also there, staring at a datapad, calmly poking at its screen. As he approached, Bluestreak could hear the subtle sounds of an in-game character grunting, and some gritty fighting noises coming from the datapad. Bluestreak couldn't guess how long the yellow twin had been playing his game, but from what came next, he guessed it had been a while.
"Primus, That game sounds like slag." Hound Voiced, stretching one of his legs, causing the recliner to squeak at the movement. "2-bit garbage. Keep hearing that same sound over and over again..." As he finished, Sunstreakers datapad uncannily made the yelping sound that Hound was talking about. "That! That right there. Is it a girl or a puppy? Who knows, but its annoying." He unraveled an oil treat from a package. Rung had made a habit of creating earten-born treats for the Autobots to indulge in. Hound was undoubtedly Rungs regular customer.
Bluestreak came up and sat on the couch next to Ironhide. He watched the older mech, his blue optics glued to the television, which was playing Supernatural. Sunstreaker grunted something, that sounded an awful lot like 'Eat shit bitch' But the young doorwinger wasn't exactly keeping an audio out on the twin. Out of everyone, Sunstreaker was the one much who made it indefinitely clear that he didn't like Bluestreaks talking habit. So, being as respectful as he was, the gray mech chose to just ignore him entirely.
"Hi, Hide." Bluestreak said as he sat down, Ironhide looked over at him, and managed a small smile. "Blue." he greeted. It was quiet a moment, and Bluestreak squirmed. "I was wondering if you could maybe show me that move you were talking about the other day?" Bluestreak began, hopeful optics staring in ironhides direction. Ironhide was half paying attention to the youngling, half concentrating on the show and its action scene. Though, Ironhide did not answer, because he knew Bluestreak was going to add more. "I know im super good at sniping, But I thought it over when I was trying to sleep the other night. That one time when Brawl got in front of me and tackled me, I didn't know what to do! Thank Primus you were there to pull him off, or id be Steeljaw chow for sure!"
Ironhide put a hand on his shoulderpad. "Ill show yah kid, But not now. I've been waitin' two months for this episode. Red Alert broke the DVR, Cant record it, gotta watch it." He said this, optics glued to the screen. "But ill come find ya after an' we can go through tha steps, Alright?" Bluestreaks doorwings drooped just an inch, but he understood. The youngling smiled at Ironhide, swinging his legs. "Okay! We can practice it later." he agreed
Sunstreakers datapad once more made that noise, Bluestreak didn't look to the culprit of the sound, but to the victim of it. He watched as Hound tensed up, and glared at the yellow autobot. Sunstreaker looked up, and returned Hounds glare with heated and serious optics. He tapped the screen, each tap caused that yelping sound to ring out. Hounds optic ridges furrowed. Sunstreaker turned up the volume, until the yelping overcame Ironhides show.
"Can you not?" Hound shouted, slapping his servos down against the recliners armrests. Sunstreaker continued with a straight face, until Hound was forced to act. He grunted heavily as he attempted to sit up. Sunstreaker smirked. "That's right fat-aft, You want it to stop? Come stop it." Hound literally growled, but it wasn't the green tracker who acted on Sunstreakers taunt. In a swift motion, Ironhide bolted up out of his seat, snagged the datapad out of Sunstreakers grip, and promptly smashed it into the side of his face, breaking and shattering the glass on Sunstreakers prominent cheekplates. His movements had been so fast, Bluestreak couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten from one end of the couch, to Sunstreaker quick enough for the sniper to be unable to pick up his movements.
Sunstreaker sat there, barely processing what just happened. Ironhide tossed the broken datapad to the floor. "Yer fraggin annoyin' Im watchin' somethin' jerk yerself off somewhere else." Bluestreak saw the hostility flash in Sunstreakers optics. Bluestreak was quick to get up onto his feet.
"Ha!" Hound barked out in laughter. "Fragger. Get leashed." He laid back down, relaxing again. Sunstreaker puffed up his chest. Standing up to level with Ironhide, who towered over him, fuming from the interruption to his show. Without a word, Sunstreaker lashed out in a fury of movements, Ironhide skillfully dodged each one, he grabbed the yellow twin by shoulders, kicked him in the tanks, twisted one of his arms and brought his knee down on his back, Sunstreaker was forced to kneel. Bluestreak slowly backed up. Slowly… war mechs in action could pounce at anything, and Bluestreak didn't want to be the next Sunstreaker.
"Yer a child. Bluestreaks more mature then you. Sit yer aft down and shut up or go away, Not tolerating your slag today." Bluestreak didn't stick around for the rest. Though, he did hear Hounds booming laughter as he made his way out of the recreational room. Judging by its strength, Sunstreaker hadn't taken well to Ironhides threat.
Just another day in the autobot base.
Bluestreak scanned the base as he once more traveled through the halls, Looking for one mech he knew always had time for him. Nearly half an hour later, with no sighting of the scout, Bluestreak made his way to the communications hub. Unsurprisingly, Optimus was the only mech there. He was looking over a virtual map of the state they were in, Nevada. Humming to himself as he most likely, thought over some battle tactics.
"Excuse me, Optimus?" Came the younglings voice, echoing through the large room. Optimus turned, optics denting at the bottom, showing he was smiling. Optimus had always been kind to Bluestreak, but the sniper never actively seeked the leader out, especially not to 'Hang out'. He just didn't seam like that kind of mech.
Bluestreak doubted Oprimus even understood the term.
"Yes, Bluestreak?" Prime answered, giving the youngling his full attention. Bluestreak fumbled nervously. Shoulders risen. He cleared his throat, Optimus Prime waited patiently. "Um." Bluestreak said. He'd been around Optimus most of his life? Why was he getting the nerves now? "Um. I was wondering if you knew where Bumblebee was?" He asked quietly. "He promised that we'd go collect some rocks soon, and its a real nice day! So I was going to ask if we could do it today…." He trailed off, noticing Optimus almost guilty look.
"I'm sorry Bluestreak, but Bumblebee is out on recon. He wont be back until nightfall. When he returns, I will tell him that you were looking for him." Bluestreaks wings drooped more, they truthfully hadn't recovered after Ironhides rejection. He cleared his throat again, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice when he said "Oh, That's okay, Thank you anyway." He turned and left, Optimus watching after him with sparkling blue optics. He simply stared at the door until the sniper exited, and the automatic doors clicked closed. He turned back to his map, and sighed.
Once again, Bluestreak was wondering the halls, searching for something to do, someone to be with. He was a mech who usually relied on others to feel safe. The autobots may have been friendly, but he knew when to advance, and when to withdrawl. There were only a hand full of mech's in the base who didn't seam entirely annoyed with him. And it looked like those handfull of mechs, were currently otherwise occupied.
So, he turned to the one mech he knew liked him. Prowl
He stopped in front of his brothers office, and reached up to knock. His hand stopped short. There, hanging from a pin, was a do not disturb sign. Bluestreak knew better then anyone the working moods Prowl could work himself into. He should've known on a day like this, Prowl would be nose deep in documents and datapads. His doorwings now hung behind him like a cape, and his hand came down to slowly rest at his side. Go figure, on a calm day like this, no one would bother to be with him. He felt hurt run in his spark, as he turned and trasnformed. He could go bother Ratchet, or watch Wheeljack work, but he was already afraid of the outcome. Neither bot minded him, Ratchet mostly. But they were older, and didn't exactly share his view of fun.
He peeled down the halls, towards the bases exit. Since he was doomed to be alone, Bluestreak decided to visit his favorite place. Several miles past the nearest town, there was a Junkyard. It was called Just Junk. Humans usually dropped off a variety of different things, all non-perishables. He came here every week to see what the humans had discarded. The sniper collected many things that they'd left behind. Things that had no real use, but attracted the younglings optics. The humans stopped him, asking him questions on where he was going, before they cleared him to leave. He revved his engine and kicked up dirt, soaring down the desert towards the nearest town, leaving a trail of yellow dust behind him.
He arrived half an hour later. The daylight shined among the junk, and Bluestreak could already see that it had a fresh delivery the day before. He didn't have to worry about being spotted. There were no homes nearby, and there were never humans just hanging around here. He stepped over the gate, careful not to knock it over, and he smiled. For such a talkative guy, Being here in the silence was peaceful, and he found he liked it, sometimes more so then being with one of his friends.
Bluestreak began to rummage around the newly created pile. He had no standards, so he felt no shame ribbing through junk. He pulled out a broken lavalamp, which was leaking its red and orange fluids onto the ground at his feet. After sitting it down, he pulled a tire out of the pile, and tossed it aside, he looked into the hole the tire had been, and spotted something shiny on the ground. It was small, so when he reached out to pick it up, he had to be careful not to crush it in his hands. It was a ring. A very pretty, red diamond ring. It looked expensive, Had he not been a sniper with a good optic, he would've missed it entirely.
There was a thrumming in the distance. At first he thought it was a large truck passing by on the highway not to far from here, but it got louder until the sound was damn near unmistakable. A helicopter, But whose? The young mech ducked down, using the new heap of junk as cover, just as Vortex's altmode could be seen, puttering closer to the Junkyard.
"oo, fraggit, fraggit." The youngling nervously stuttered out. When in a fight, he'd never been alone before. This was his first time encountering a decepticon on his own. Why was he here? A junk yard of all places?
He heard Vortex transform and land, his mass shaking the ground and causing some junk to tumble down the heap that was protecting the sniper from view. "Go get some scrap metal Vortex." The Decepticon mocked, as he pulled out a blaster and shot one of the piles several times. "You're the best at finding junk Vortex, Meh eh." He shot another pile, then reached down and threw half a car out of his way. "Bastards think I'm just a fetcher. Why cant Starscream do it? Why cant Skywarp? Why ME?" Bluestreak couldn't do anything about what happened next. When Vortex lifted his blaster to shoot angrily again, He aimed it at the snipers pile, Bluestreak was just trying to keep quiet, hoping Vortex would take what he needed, and leave. He couldn't have predicted Vortex would shoot his scrap heap, Nor could he predict where the blaster's bullet landed.
He let out a shriek of pain as the bullet tore apart the junk pile, and hammered straight through his shoulder strut. Bluestreak watched the red ring fly from his digits, and disappear into the sand. Energon splashed up onto his face, the floor, his hands. He grabbed at the wound in shock, jutting foreword. He knew his sound was heard, he forced himself up onto his feet, and took off towards the gate. It was too late, Vortex had closed the distance, and grabbed him by his doorwing. He yanked Bluestreak back, and delivered one hard punch to the paraxians tanks. Bluestreak doubled over, his vents heaving, small noises of pain escaped him.
"Oh, What luck." Vortex purred, he knelt down, and grabbed the yonglings face, red visor burning into his watering blue optics. Bluestreak struggled against him, wishing Ironhide had taught him those defensive moves sooner. Bluestreak punched out, striking Vortex in the face, he then kicked the mech's feet out from under him, before turning to scramble onto his pedes. Vortex reached out and grabbed his pede, stood up and dragged the younger mech towards him. Bluestreak, belly down in the dirt, felt the heat of Vortex's blaster against his spinal strut. "You move, you get paralyzed." The Decepticon promised. Bluestreak stilled, Optics wide, right side of his face sunken in the dirt
His vents hitched, his engine whined. He felt the Decepticons shadow loom over him, as he knelt down. "Maybe now they wont keep sending me on scrap duty." Vortex mused, he looked the autobot over, optics lingering over his doorwings. His rotary blades draped behind him then rested, he reached out and ghosted his fingers across Bluestreaks trembling gray wings. "Or..." He trailed off a moment, letting the tips of his pointed digits softly scrape down to the rotation joints at the doorwings base.
"I could make this fun." His facemask pulled back, and he smirked down at the young body below him. Laying there completely at his mercy. "You know, i've never had the privilege of seeing a Paraxan this close. Prowls always been elusive, but your wings, compared to his?" Vortex's armor flexed, then loosened as he relaxed. He centered his kneeplate so that it was between the Autobots wings. "Beautiful." Something glimmered in his visor, nothing short of a newfound obsession. He ran his hand down its length, completely transfixed, Bluestreak twitched at the motion, his wing trying to flick out of his reach. "Look at that. Sensitive."
His smirk widened. Bluestreak tried to calm his breaths, but found it hard with the increasing weight on his back. He felt Vortex run his servos down his back, towards his aft, and it was then he realized this was no longer about his wings, Or the Decepticons, Or the war. No, It was something else entirely, As he laid there, held down by the bigger frame, realization striking him powerfully.
How was he getting out of this?
TBC…..