PLEASE, PLEASE READ BELOW!
Those of you who are familiar with me may be a little surprised -another story? When you already have a huge one on your plate? I know, I know, but when I need breaks for Savior, this is what I go to. I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time and I think it's finally time I get this bad boy started.
And boy, is it bad.
WARNING: This story WILL BE DARK. It is a story which will address and resemble many, MANY real-life struggles and scenarios. It WILL include extensive drug use, lots of violence, and grueling, endless abuse which will come in the forms of physical AND emotional. The reason I'm doing this is for many reasons:
1. I want to explore the limits of my writing, specifically how I can handle dark literature. Many of you may think it disturbing, but even from a young age I've had a huge passion for horror, angst, thriller, and dark emotional stories. Stephen King knows where it's at.
2. Drift is a very underrepresented character. His spotlight comics bring forth a story which is both a great way for me to practice and for me to bring forth the reality of who Drift is and how he lived. Bayverse Drift is awful. He's not how I want people to see Drift. He's a beautifully tragic character, not a stereotypical joke. I'm determined to show people that.
3. Explore the possibilities of Cybertron's flawed society. Cybertron is, a lot of times, seen as a grand, beautiful planet with magnificent people. While that may be true in some cases, I also know it was a deep, dark side which hasn't been explored much. Drift's canon story is a great way for me to bring up the disturbing reality that Cybertron WAS corrupt, just as bad or if not worse than Earth. Nothing is perfect in this universe, right?
NOTE: Since this is heavily based off of Drift's comics, there will be some scenes that may or may not be torn right from the pages -not because I'm lazy or copying, but because I want people to see the depth of the transformers comics, maybe even interest you guys enough to look into them. But this story will MOSTLY be of my own sick mind, so I will let you guys know which scenes in which chapters may be direct scenes from the comics or at least heavily inspired. It won't be much, though. I strive to be original as possible. :)
This is NOT a priority right now -Savior is. But I really wanted to get this out anyways. Updates will be a slow UNLESS I get a lot of good feedback. If you guys want this more than Savior, I can work on it. In fact, this one is a bit easier to write since I have the comics to go off of AND I already have a finished outline of how I want everything to happen. It's all up to y'all, but I NEED YOUR FEEDBACK TO LET ME KNOW!
If you've read all that, thank you. If not, that's fine too. Just don't say I didn't warn you. This is dark. Very dark, indeed. Enjoy, my lovelies. :)
The streets of Rodion were dark, dirty, and dangerous.
A little mech, barely out of his youngling stage, walked with rushed footsteps through those very streets, his helm trained downwards, but his yellow optics frantically looking around him. Like every other Cybertronian in the streets, the little mech's armor was filthy and fitted loosely around his lanky, half-starved frame. His white plating was hardly visible under all the grime and his legs ached, begging for him to settle down somewhere and rest.
It was dangerous to rest in the streets of Rodion. Without a proper and hidden shelter, a mech could get his lines slit while in recharge. The little mech was only a handful of vorns old and even he knew that.
The young mech stiffly pushed along, weaving between other street-dwellers. His spark was pulsing rapidly, fear biting at his heels with every step he took. In his shaking hands, he gripped an empty energon cube nearly hard enough to shatter it. His optics glanced everywhere, nervously avoiding optic contact with anyone while desperately trying to find somewhere to discard the evidence in his servos.
Then he spotted it- a trash dispenser next to an old shop building.
Rushing towards it, trying not to make himself look hurried, he swerved around another street dweller or two before he reached the dispenser. He looked back and forth and behind him, making sure no one was watching him, before he quickly opened it with fumbling fingers and shoved the empty cube inside. He shut the dispenser closed a little harder than necessary, taking a moment to lean on it and drop his helm between his arms, calming himself down.
It took a few kliks before he managed to compose himself enough to stand back up. The young mech vented in deeply, turning to leave and hopefully disappear, when his optics caught sight of another pair watching him from across the street.
In fact, a few pairs were watching him. The young mech felt fear wash over him all over again and his spark tripled in its pulse rating. A gang of street dwellers stood across from him, four at least, all much older and bigger, all very intimidating, and all glaring him down with evil intent within their yellow optics. The young mech was frozen in place, his big optics wide and afraid. Then, suddenly, his 'fight or flight' instincts kicked in, and the little mech turned around and bolted down an alley, away from the gang he had stolen from.
"HEY!" a voice bellowed behind him, and he could hear the clamber of pedes pounding the ground after him, "YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SLAG! GET BACK HERE!"
"Fragfragfragfragfrag…" he mumbled as he sprinted forward. His small body, which had been aching and lagging before, was now alert and spiked with a powerful adrenaline, driven by his overwhelming fear. He skidded to a stop at the end of the alley, unsure of which way to go. The young mech glanced behind him, seeing all four gang members running after him, getting closer. In a fit of panic, he took a sharp right, hoping that it would somehow make him disappear from his potential killers-
WHAM!
Pain exploded in the young mech's face as he collided with something hard. He yelped and fell back on his bottom, completely confused and disorientated. He shook his helm and focused his sight through his aching face plating to see nothing but a wall in front of him. He jumped up in an instant, letting out a distressed noise and running back at the wall, hitting his servos against it.
A dead end. He reached a dead end.
"No, no, no, no!" he punched the wall, not caring that he busted a knuckle joint or two, "NO!"
"There you are," the gang member's voice made him whip around and press firmly against the wall. The gang entered the closed off alley, completely cornering the small mech. The leader, a large and dirty maroon mech, laughed as he watched the white mech tremble before him, "You really thought you could get away, little glitch?"
"You stole from our energon supply," another one said- a black mech with an even deeper voice, "No one steals from us."
As they came closer, the small mech glanced at the small space between their long legs. It was a stupid and rash decision, but he had to try. Gathering what little courage he had, he ran forward and feebly attempted to weave between the gang members. His smaller frame only got as far as past the leader before servos grabbed him all over, and he was roughly slammed into a wall hard enough for his vision to black out for a klik.
The white mech cried out and clawed at the servo clamped around his throat, "No, no, please! I'm sorry I'm sorry I won't do it again please-"
A fist swung and pain seared across the side of his face. He felt his facial plating dent under the sheer amount of force and energon spurted from his mouth. He coughed and hacked on his own energon while the leader, who was holding him, grabbed his face and forced them to make optic contact, "Shut the frag up! Sorry ain't gonna save you, little slagger."
The leader yanked him from the wall and threw the smaller mech onto the ground. Landing with a loud thump of metal, the young mech gasped and attempted to crawl away, his vision blurry and his helm feeling as though it was about to split open from the punch. A thick servo wrapped around one of his long and hypersensitive audio finials, and he howled in pain as he was hauled up by that alone.
Shoved back against the wall, the young mech grasped desperately at the leader's unrelenting grip on his finial as he hung in the air, almost optic-level with the larger street mech. The intense pain caused his optics to tear up, the optical fluid streaming down his dirty face. Something shiny glistened in front of him, and the little mech realized with a sinking spark that it was a knife. The maroon mech grinned, his fangs showing, and brought the blade up to the white mech's throat, pricking at the delicate lines and threatening to slice them all at once.
"Such a pretty little thing," the maroon mech commented with a morbid hunger in his voice, "So small and slender. I wonder how much you'd sell for."
"P-please don't…" the small mech sobbed, his entire frame tremoring violently, "Please, please… I-I'll do whatever you want, just leave me alone, please…"
"Sorry. That's not how this works, youngling." The gang leader hissed, "You took something from us. So we'll take something from you."
Once again, the small mech was tossed onto the ground. He only got as far as getting onto his knees when the maroon mech snapped an order at his gang members, "Hold him down."
"N-no wait-!" he stuttered, but was cut off when servos grabbed at his body and shoved him back. Optics wide, he thrashed and writhed against their iron grips as they forced him onto his back, pinning his limbs onto the cold ground. The maroon mech was hovering over him, and he whined and shivered when he felt the gang leader's digits touch various areas of his small frame and his knife poke and prod at his protoform in between transformation seams.
"S-stop! Please just let me go!" the white mech cried and wailed, squirming and twisting in fruitless attempt to escape. His spark felt as though it was about to burn out from how wildly it was pulsing. He was shaking hard enough for his armor to clatter together. His face plating was wet with tears. "I-I'll give you whatever you want! I promise!"
One of the gang members chuckled, and caressed his non-bent finial, "Oh, you're giving us what we want alright."
The knife plunged into the right side of his abdominal area, severing lines and piercing into his delicate protoform underneath. The young mech interrupted his own babbling with screaming, white hot pain searing into his systems while the gang leader began to cut into him. Energon spurted from the wound, covering the gang leader's servos as he worked. It was then, with a frightening realization, that the little mech put together what was happening to him.
They were cutting him open. They were cutting him open alive.
A servo eventually covered his mouth, but that hardly stopped him from screeching as the pain only got worse. He screamed and sobbed and hollered so loudly and so much that his vocalizer began to short out, static lacing his straining voice. The blade slicing him open finally withdrew after agonizing kliks had passed, but when the gang leader's clawed digits began to slither into the large cut and pry his protoform apart, the small mech went right back into screaming, and he began to see stars in his vision.
"For frag's sake!" one of them yelled out, but his voice sounded distant, even though they were all right there, holding him down, causing his pain and suffering, "We need to shut the glitch up, before an officer hears him!"
"Twitch!" the gang leader growled, looking at the black mech, "You got a hit you can waste?"
The small mech couldn't hear much after that. He couldn't process what was going on around him anymore. All he could think of was the unbearable pain in his abdomen, and the feeling of his own warm energon draining from his small body. His audio feed shorted out a few times, his optics strained to focus, his body continued to subconsciously writhe around despite him getting weaker.
He only somewhat came back to his senses when he saw the black mech pull out a syringe from his subspace.
"NO!" the small mech screeched, his frame struggling in their grip with a newfound strength that only got him nowhere. He watched with blotched vision as the black mech flicked the needle, and leaned down over him. "Please, no! I'm sorry! Please let me go! Don't do this! Please don't do this to me!"
"Shut the frag up, and hold still!" a different one growled, grabbing his chin and forcing his helm back. The young mech cried and sobbed, helpless and unable to prevent the digits from tugging at one of his neck lines. He felt the terrifying pinch of the needle piercing the line, and then the burning sensation of the illegal substance entering his system.
It felt as though his insides were injected with magma; the drug burned and flared under his armor, only it did not physically burn him. It wasn't actually killing him. It only kept hurting and only seemed to intensify the pain he was already feeling. The little mech fell silent, but he was unsure if it was because his vocalizer finally gave out or his audios did. Tears streamed down his optics, and he begged to Primus for death. He hoped the drug would make his systems burn out, so that he could die and be at peace. He hoped that the gang leader ripping into his middle would slice enough lines, so he could bleed out.
And then, everything grew numb. He couldn't feel the claws digging into his insides, he couldn't feel his aching finial, and he couldn't feel the pain when the gang leader grabbed his t-cog and ripped it out of his body, wires and lines and all. All he could feel in that moment was a bliss that he could not describe, as though he was floating. He clung to that bliss, desperate for it, craving more of it, because it stopped his pain.
It felt like eons before his senses came back to him. The street mechs were long gone, but the young mech couldn't remember when they left, or if they'd ripped out any other parts. He coughed violently, went to sit up, and that was when the pain returned. He whined and took deep vents as his abused frame throbbed and ached all over. He made small gasps of pain as he delicately touched the open wound on his abdomen, the gang not having enough care to weld the wound back up. Energon caked his entire pelvic area, and wires still sparked.
His helm felt dizzy and everything hurt. He hurt, he was alone, scared, and desperately needed medical attention. The wound would get infected with rust quickly if it wasn't tended to.
Good. Maybe it would kill him, and he wouldn't be in pain anymore.
Pressure built up in his tank, and the mech barely had enough time to get onto his knees before he purged. What little fuel he had in his systems poured out of his mouth in a stream of sickly blue. The heaving only irritated the deep cut in his abdomen and the young mech felt his optics tear up from the pain while he hacked up everything he had.
When he was done, the young mech fell back against the wall. He curled into himself, not knowing what else to do, and he began to cry. He wanted it all to end. He wanted to get out of the horrible world he was living in, but there was no escape. He wanted someone to help him, but no one would come. He wanted to stop hurting, but he knew that his pain wouldn't end there.
It was only the beginning.
Edit: I initially had this rated as M to be safe. However, I realize most might not be bothered by violence and such content when put in, for a lack of better terms "robot perspective". There will be sensitive scenes but nothing will be completely 'explicit' and there will not be any type of sexual abuse or topics. So I dropped the rating to T. If you guys come to a point where you feel it needs to be M, I will raise it. Please, let me know. For now, I will give a big warning where anything stronger than usual takes place.