Yeah, I totally just pulled this out of nowhere, I know. But, hey, it's been so long since I last updated, I just really wanted to get something out so people know I'm still alive.
This is the first Transformers fic I've ever attempted, so, I hope I did all right.
His name was Blitzwing—collectively, at least. Separately, they identified themselves as Icy, Hothead, and Random.
Just like us, Sigma purred from somewhere in the darkness.
Eryka popped two small, blue pills edgily into her mouth, washing them down quickly with a long swig of cold water. Her hands were shaking, but as the medicine dissolved into her bloodstream, she felt as Delta, Sigma, and Omega all disappeared into the hazy background, quieting the never-ending barrage of voices that plagued her weary mind.
To her friends and family, she was just Eryka Fitz, a psychiatrist working hard to smooth out the human-Autobot relations now that the battle against the Decepticons was over.
But to herself—or, rather, herselves—she was Alpha. She was the leader, the commander. Her voice was the power that drove the rest. And while she may have been in charge, she was far from being in control.
She couldn't even remember how long she'd had this condition. How long she'd lived with other minds comingling within the jumble of her own consciousness. There wasn't a single time in her life where she couldn't recall the whispers seeping out of the darkness into her ears, like the buzz of disease-ridden flies.
As a child, Delta was her only friend. She was the calm, collected voice of reason when Omega, the anger and violence, wanted to hurt the people who made fun of her, the people who said she was different—freakish. And then there was Sigma, the most dangerous of all. A flirty smooth-talker, she was pretty, popular, confident, and the most manipulative of them all. When she wanted something, she stopped at nothing to get it. And, now, it seemed, she had her eyes set on something—or, rather, someone.
Eryka worked hard all her life to keep their secret hidden, to keep in control. None of them wanted anyone to know. Everyone would think she was crazy. But she wasn't crazy. She wasn't.
Now, she was operating with Ratchet and some other Autobot mechs in a Cybertronian style prison block created as a place to put the remaining malefactors, trying to decipher the mysteries behind the Decepticon Triple-Changer, Blitzwing. To see if there was some way to stabilize his split processor, which they all believed had been damaged at some point leading to the clear division in his persona.
Needless to say, she'd taken an immediate liking to the odd-bot the instant she first saw him—perhaps with a little influence from Sigma and the others—and relentlessly pursued Ratchet until he reluctantly agreed to her being the Decepticon's leading physician. She'd spent the past four months studying every aspect of him and his personalities.
His very existence fascinated her to no conceivable end. Every single aspect of him.
Icy: calm, cold, and calculating, always trying to negotiate some form of release, that he'd keep the other parts of himself from hurting her if she'd just find a way to unlock his cell. Kind of like Delta.
Hothead: the angry side, constantly shouting, fuming, and threatening to squash her like an insect unless she turned off the stasis bars keeping him locked inside. Omega to a 'T'.
And then there was Random, her favorite side. Utterly insane and totally unpredictable, he was always good for a laugh. His antics upset the energon out of an easily irritated Ratchet, and every time she saw him she couldn't help remembering when she first heard that deranged, metallic cackle of his.
When he was first dragged into the prison by Optimus, Prowl, and Bulkhead, he switched abruptly from Hothead to Random in the middle of a snide-ass comment, and then fired his unrestrained cannon point-blank into the spark chamber of a little-known bot who'd arrived on Earth only a few days prior, killing him instantly. The squall of psychotic laughter that ensued sent the voices in her head into a frenzy so great, she could no longer differentiate between them and her own thoughts. It took half the Autobot force to restrain him, and Bumblebee ushered her out to safety before anymore damage could be done.
Ever since then, there wasn't a day gone by that she didn't fight Ratchet tooth and nail to let her see him. Now, at least, an agreement was reached, and she had a schedule to keep.
Licking a few droplets from her lips and pocketing her meds, she strode casually into the huge, open space that made one of the strongest holding cells the entire prison had to offer. The only sound she heard at first was the click, click, click of her heels on the hard, metal floor, then the door whisked shut behind her, and the whirl of turning gears beyond the fizzling stasis bars alerted her to the fact they'd been expecting her.
"You look a little frazzled zhis evening, Doctor Fitz. Nozhing iz wrong, I hope?" Zhurrr. "Or did someone just wake up on zhe wrong side of zhe stasis mat? Ahahaha!"
Against her better judgment, a little smile played along her lips. She moved a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, wishing it was long enough to fit in her ponytail with the rest.
"I'm quite fine, Blitzwing, but thank you for your concern."
Zhurrr. "Don't assume zhat I'd be concerned about a puny inzect like you, miserable little flesh-bag! I merely asked a question!"
She moved to a lounge chair in the middle of the room, divided down the center by the wall of glowing red stasis bars, and dragged it a little closer to the front of the holding cell, making only a little bit of noise doing so. It was such a nuisance to keep moving it back everyday. Damn those accursed cleaner bots; you'd think they'd get the idea and leave it there after a while.
As was their daily routine, when Eryka pulled up her chair Blitzwing took his place at the very edge of the stasis bars, careful not to touch the searing energon beams, and sat with a quaking thud that shook the whole room. Even with scarcely ten yards between them, she had no fear of being so close to the deranged Decepticon. It wasn't that she trusted the bars to hold him back and certainly not that she didn't think he would try to hurt her, she just couldn't stand the thought of being any farther away. She'd try for closer if she could, but Ratchet's watchful gaze only allowed for so much.
Crossing one lovely leg over the other, she fixed the bottom of her little black dress over her thighs and reached into the pocket of her long white coat, removing a small, glowing pink cube of energon about the size of a school juice carton. It was the biggest piece she could steal out of storage without getting caught and still be small enough to hide from the Autobots.
She couldn't really remember when or why she started feeding him like this. Lord knew she'd never hear the end of it if Ratchet or Optimus found out. It wasn't really even enough to sustain him, anyway. She just thought that it was probably better than what the Autobots provided for him, and she felt a bizarre want to do something nice for him. Trying to find a legitimate reasoning to it, she'd decided it was part of her treatment methods. As a Decepticon, he'd been exposed to constant malice and brutality for most of his days. Showing kindness, she concluded, would greatly assist in the rehabilitation process.
She gave the energon cube a toss and watched it pass easily between the sizzling bars of the holding cell and land in the waiting claws of Random, servos bound in stasis cuffs and a maniacal grin strewn across his features.
"Ooh-hoo-hoo! A snack!" He cackled and snapped the miniscule treat between his teeth. "Yummy-yummy in zhe tummy!"
"It's wonderful to see you in such a good mood today, Blitzwing. How are you feeling?"
Zhurrr. "Good, conzidering zhat zhe situation haz not changed. Alzhough, I vould petition for a softer stasis mat if I could. Zhis one if giving me a terrible ache in my lower suppo't structure."
Eryka glanced behind Icy. Against the far wall of the cell in clear view from beyond the bars was a metal cot of sorts, barely long enough to fit his height and likely far from being comfortable. Regardless, she nodded and jotted down the request on a notepad kept in the breast pocket of her coat.
She began with their routine. Asking him questions about his day, how he was feeling, any recent thoughts or ideas that may have come to mind. And, as always, they were the same. Thoughts of escape, memories of fighting the Autobots, but this time he mentioned how nice it was not having to deal with Megatron or that mutinous Starscream anymore. He did, however, say how he missed Lugnut, and Blackarachnia had always been so fun to torment.
Flipping the page, Eryka took note of the new development and added, "Fond reminiscence of select former allies—sign of individual personas uniting and agreeing. Possible outcome of imprisonment or sign of psychological transformation? (If so, patient could be displaying signs of rehabilitation.) Must look into further.
After a time, he leaned forward, elbows to his knees, and claw-like fingers laced beneath his chin. There was a curious glow cast in his ominous red optics, on his icy blue face. This was something new.
"Vhat about you, mein doctor?"
The question caught her a little off guard.
Peaking up from the shiny rim of her reading glasses, she quirked a thin, yellow eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You already know all zhere iz to zhis old Decepticon, and yet I know almost nozhing about you."
She couldn't resist a tiny giggle at his statement, and the sound seemed only to further his curiosity.
"I'm your therapist, Blitzwing. You're not supposed to know my life's story. I'm simply supposed to know yours—and, hopefully, improve on it."
Icy cocked his head at an angle, an intense sincerity to his gaze that she didn't really know how to respond to. A strange twisting, throbbing sensation rose in the pit of her stomach, one so bizarre that she just couldn't put words to it.
"You vould deny a bot his curiozity?" Zhurrr. "Ooh, ooh! How about a game of Twenty Queztions, zhen? I'll go first! Vhat's your favorite color?"
"Please, don't take this the wrong way, Blitzwing, but I simply have no obligation to answer to you. It's as simple as that."
And for the first time that she could remember, Random looked at her not with the crazed mirth she came to know so well, but with a face of pure, unadulterated confusion. A fiery red optic cocked, contrasted against his black face, and his teeth bent into a discontented frown. Almost as if he were a child whose mother told him he could not have a toy he so coveted, wanting to know why and yet uncertain that he would ever receive an answer.
She just didn't know what to make of that.
Her eyes diverted instantly to her notepad. The pen had gained a mind of its own and it seemed Omega was trying to scratch out a hellish image of Blitzwing's faces covered in blood. She immediately tore out the page, crumpled it, and pocketed it, and in doing so disturbed the travel sized bottle of medication stowed away in her coat pocket.
The orange bottle fell to the ground with a loud, riotous clatter, sending the top skidding like a hockey puck across the floor, and the electric blue tablets fled from her in every possible direction.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she threw herself onto the floor without a second to waste, working quickly to gather up all the pieces of her mind before they slipped into the cracks where they would never be found again. So frantic was she to reclaim them that she almost didn't hear Hothead's thundering commentary.
"So, zhe good doctor's been keeping secrets, huh? Why am I not surprised?"
He sounded as if he were accusing her of a crime.
She felt anger seething in her chest for some unknown reason. Unbeknownst to her, it was Omega working his way through the drugged shroud she tried so hard to lock them all behind, infuriated by the accusation and craving total vengeance through pain.
"Shut your trap, Blitz-Brain! I have no reason to answer to you! You're the criminal here, not me!"
Zhurrr.
Icy almost sounded hurt, "Such a cruel zhing to say, Doctor Fitz. Zhat's not like you at all. Almost as if you are a completely diff'rent person." Zhurrr. "Guess there's more to you zhan meets zhe eye! Ahahaha!"
Gathering up the pills was a quick process with enraged hands to guide her, and as soon as all the pieces were back together again, she reared up at Blitzwing's grinning face and pointed angrily.
"Don't you dare talk like you know me, you freak-show! You don't know anything about me, and it's going to stay like that! You hear me?"
His cuffed servo snapped to his brow in a crisp, mock salute, and an enormous, smug grin she wanted nothing more than to wipe clean off his face spread wide and true. "Loud and clear, Mizz Mystery!"
Then he toppled over and writhed with such terrible delight that it threatened to waken the others from their profound, narcotized slumber, tempting them to seize control all in an attempt to silence the infernal bot that egged at her self-control.
As quickly as she could, Eryka Fitz left the holding cell and the cackling Decepticon in her wake, stalking back to her quarters in such an ire that even Ratchet, who'd come to investigate the ruckus, decided that his words could wait until later.
The doctor's side of her, still present in the jumbled mess of resentment, told her she was a little disappointed to have ended the session with Blitzwing so early. Alas, the rest of her couldn't be happier that she'd abandoned that split-processored pile of scrap metal when she did. She just couldn't stay in there any longer, no matter how much some part of her may have wanted to.
So, why was there this horrible nagging sensation coming from somewhere deep inside? A feeling that, just because she was away from Blitzwing, she hadn't truly escaped him, yet?
There was darkness, and then there was her. But she was not herself. She was not Eryka Fitz, an ordinary doctor with an extraordinary practice. No. She was not that woman. Here, she was another. Another person; another being entirely. Here, in this awful, dreadful world, she was Alpha, and there was no escaping it.
It was a piercing, haunting realm that she lived in, now. Where her mind played off every single fear and worry. Every bit of loneliness and sorrow; of anger and envy; the yearning of touch, of contact. Of the intimacy she so desired and yet could not have.
But when they came forth from the shadows to ease her suffering, it was not what she wanted.
Delta, Sigma, and Omega held tight to Alpha's struggling body. Their flesh mingled against hers, hands roving unrestrained along every inch of her, exploring, discovering, violating.
Stop, she wanted to say, but their incoherent whispers drowned her voice into nothingness, and she became nothing. Like shade among the shadows, her essence dissolved into the greater picture of things. A droplet of water amid an ocean of fear, lust, anger, and anxiety. She could do nothing more than standby helplessly as their command over her grew evermore demanding, and soon Omega was holding her arms a little too tight, Delta's lips against her legs grew far too cold, and Sigma's hands combing her breasts, sides, and hips became much too earnest and unstable.
She opened her eyes and realized it was no longer herself, but the Triple-Changer himself in all his wild, glorious, and maddening splendor. And he was in complete control of her, now.
Silhouetted against the blackness, dark, ambiguous bodies attached to his faces. There was Icy's thin, lanky figure worshipping her long, shapely legs, Hothead's massive, bulky form holding her arms with a tenacity previously unknown to her, hot against her back, and then there was Random shaped somewhere in-between, grasping her hips in such a carnal, sensual way that it left neither room nor a desire for escape.
"You are mine," they whispered all in unison, but the only voice she recognized was Random's—growling ardently right beside her ear, hot against her throat, sending a scorching chill down her spine. Lust and desire searing like molten iron. Her heart pounding so loud she knew it could be heard. "Surrenda' to me."
And then he merged his body into one with hers, and she knew pleasure as she had never known it before.
He brought her to new heights of ecstasy she never before dreamed possible. On and on he took her, until the world crumbled out of existence. Until fate, thought, and reality caved into the precipice of oblivion, and Delta, Sigma, and Omega joined her in this eternity of bliss and sheer rapture. Fighting for the attentions of Icy and Hothead while she kept Random all to herself, seizing him with such a fierce, passionate greed that it was as if there had never been anything else. That he was all she had ever known and ever would know.
The crashing force of her climax hit her with such might that all the world was consumed in a blinding light, and she cried his name in worship of his prowess. He said something to her in the delirium of aftermath, but she could not for the life of her care as she grabbed his face and brought her lips to his.
She woke alone in her bed. The sheets dampened with sweat, her thighs slickened with the repercussions of unbridled want. Still, her insides boiled with the heat of arousal, but cold, damp, empty flesh yearned for the hands once upon her—the body she so longed for.
"Blitzwing," she whimpered into the single white pillow and turned over, desperate to continue where her dream had left off.
The morning came far too soon. Cracking open her weary eyes, blinking away the thick, gummy haze, she stared at the numbers on her clock until they made sense.
Eleven o'clock in the morning. Dammit, she'd overslept.
Omega, making his contempt known, grabbed the clock from the nightstand and hurled it at the wall, delighted when it shattered into hundreds of tiny shards and crashed to the ground in a loud clutter of noise. His satisfied smirk widened across her face, and, realizing what she'd done, Eryka Fitz quickly rummaged through the drawers of her nightstand, tossing unimportant articles out and around her in search of something of far greater importance.
"Where is it?" she asked no one, as if hoping to get a favorable response.
She blundered out of bed to her lab coat on its hook and went through all the pockets, then tore through everything she'd worn in the past few days that had pockets. Still, she came back empty.
It wasn't here. Her medicine was gone!
What's the matter? Can't find your fix? Sigma taunted impishly, giggling. Looks like you'll have to deal with us all day today~ Poor, poor, Alpha.
"Be quite."
It's okay, Alpha. You'll find it, Delta soothed, attempting to ease their leader's mind.
'Bout time you gave us a chance to raise some Hell. That Blitz-Brain'll pay for yesterday.
Oh, Blitzwing, my love~ I want to see him~ Won't you let us see him?
Yes. Blitzwing.
Blitzwing.
Blitzwing.
Blitzwing!
"Stop it, stop it, stop it. . . ."
My lover. . . .
My enemy. . . . He's dangerous; he's evil. . . . Keep him close. Keep him away. . . .
No, he's mine! I want him dead—to see him suffer. I'll kill him myself!
I want him~ I need him~ He's mine!
Mine!
He's mine!
He's mine!
She couldn't take it.
"STOP IT!" she screamed.
Holding her head, crumpling from the onslaught of noise, she tried to make the voices stop, and for a moment they graced her with an instant of sweet, savory solitude. But still, the tune of their whispers egged at her from the dark, static-like scene inside her mind.
She staggered into the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. Her worst fears realized. Even the main bottle was gone.
How could it be missing? Did she drop it somewhere? No, she would have heard it fall.
But how . . . ? No one could have taken it. No one even knew about her condition, let alone the medication she took for it.
It couldn't have been any of the Autobots. They'd never even fit in her room to take it, and none of them had it in their spark to steal from her. That left only a few human guards and doctors, but the more she considered them the more she realized none of them fit the bill. And only she knew the code to unlock the door. It wasn't possible for it to be missing like this!
A few moments of freaking out and she began to consider what she might be able to use as a substitute. She checked some bottles of headache medicine and a few vitamin supplements and came upon a possible mix that may lead to the effect she needed. Downing the crude concoction, she ran herself through a quick, hot shower and dressed into a short black dress and pulled her white coat on over it, slipping into a pair of sexy, narrow heels, and pulled her pretty blond locks up into an impossibly tight ponytail.
Time to work, she thought, putting on her reading glasses and her best work face, and the others agreed.
For a few minutes, she thought she would make it to the holding cell without a hitch, but a few hard shudders on the ground behind her changed that. She turned, expecting to find Ratchet there ready to convince her not to go, and was instead surprised to see Optimus Prime towering over her.
"Eryka," he greeted and she nodded politely in greeting. A brow-like wire quirked over one of his blue optics. "Is everything all right? You seem a little. . . ."
"Glitchy?" she said. He cringed a little at the word, obviously not the one he was looking for. She managed to force a smile, though, and waved it off. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, Optimus. All humans look like this when they're as tired as I am. No need to worry."
"You don't have to keep seeing him everyday, you know. No one is forcing you, and I understand he can be a bit . . . disagreeable." She knew who he was referring to without having to think about it. "Perhaps you should take the day off. You look like you could use the rest."
We could, Sigma started, but where'd the fun be in that?
"Nonsense. My work is important, Optimus," she countered. "If I can fix that processor of Blitzwing's, just imagine what good could come of it. It could lead to a change of spark in him. Maybe he'd even be willing to join the Autobots."
Psh, yeah, Omega scoffed. When pigs fly and I turn nice.
Optimus seemed a little unconvinced, but experience taught him not to argue with Eryka Fitz when her mind was made up. She could be about as stubborn as the docbot himself, sometimes even more so—as impossible as the idea sounded.
"If you say so." But before she left, he added in, "Just don't overexert yourself. I'll put in with Ratchet for you to get an extended stasis leave. You need it, Eryka."
She waved over her shoulder as she departed, leaving him wondering if it was in acknowledgement or dismissal.
Eryka had to work hard to keep the others composed, now. Omega fumed about the nerve Optimus had to try and keep her away from her work while Delta quarreled with him that his reasoning was genuine and understandable. Sigma, the harrier, saw fit only to goad them on until her head throbbed and ached, massaging her temples in an attempt to ease the suffering pulsing from between them.
Naturally, when the door to the holding cell whisked open, she was caught a little off guard by the uncanny sound of a baby's rattle echoing past the stasis bars. Random was sitting against the wall nearest the bars shaking something pinched between his claws, so small she couldn't see it from where she was.
"Ooh-hoo-hoo! Such a funny noize zhese candies make!"
Walking in, she pulled the chair back to where she liked it but didn't sit down right away, still trying to see what it was he was playing with.
"Candies? Blitzwing, who on earth would give you—"
He turned his head at her, and the look on his face ended her thought before it even had the chance to finish. His wicked smile spread so wide it puckered the corners of his optics, and the maelstrom of piercing cackles was all she needed to know he was up to nothing good. She realized abruptly what it was when he lowered one stasis-cuffed servo and she saw the tiny orange cylinder pinched between his claws, a few ounces of pressure away from being crushed into atoms.
Her heart stopped beating. The voices silenced in an instant of horrific revelation.
"O-o-oh, God, m-my meds!" she cried. "H-how did. . . . That's not p-possi—N-no! Where did you—"
He put his head back as his laughter grew evermore vulgar and terrifying, every circuit in his body quaking from the force of the sound. "What's zhe matter? Cat goch'yer tongue? Ahahahahahaha!"
Omega's rage seethed inside her, boiling over until her flesh turned red-hot with fury. Hands clenched and her nails dug mercilessly into her palms, almost breaking the skin.
"How did you get those? Tell me how, you three-faced piece of scrap, and give them back!"
"Ehehehe! How do you zhink I got zhem?" Zhurrr. "I stole zhem, of course."
"How? I know you couldn't have done it yourself! Who's the human that helped you? Spill it, Blitz-Brain!"
Icy cocked his head, a look of pure, absolute bewilderment. Like he had no idea what she was talking about.
"Vhy in zhe name of zhe All Spark would I need help from a human for such a simple s'ing?"
"Don't try to mess with me! There's no way you could have escaped your cell and made it to my room and back without getting caught! And there's no way you could have even fit in my room well enough to steal anything!"
It took a moment, but realization dawned on his face, and Icy gave a cold, calculative smile.
"You don't zhink I could, do you?" Zhurrr. "Ooh, boy, are you in fo' a suprize!"
What's this psycho going on about, now? Omega fumed, wishing he was thirty feet taller and made of metal.
Eryka and the rest could only stand by and watch as Random righted himself and sat back on his stabilizing servos, grinning wide and hellish as a beam shot down from both his optics onto the floor. A whirring sounded from somewhere in his body, and as the beam slowly worked its way up, a form began to mold itself into being.
Wide eyes locked to the spectacle, unable to turn away. Awe overtaking the rage.
First came the feet. Black leather combat boots studded by spine-coated soles. His legs, long and slender beneath silver-khaki cargo pants tucked into the boots. Narrow hips lending into a compact abdomen, a lean, muscular frame built dense but not bulky, widening out over the chest and shoulders. Long, powerful arms with pale flesh and strong hands, a silver-khaki, unzipped pilots' jacket to cover them. A dark, black shirt in a sinister violet tint underneath, splotched with bizarre, oddly placed splashes of crimson and royal blue—like blood splatter. The Decepticon insignia stood bold and vivid in the center of his chest, exactly as it was on his main body.
Then, she saw the face. A hard, triangular chin giving way to thin lips and sharp teeth peeking out behind his grin, dagger-like and malicious. Choppy, scraggly hair came down past his ears, black fibers streaked with fire bursts of red and gold highlights, goggles stretching around the top of his head. Then came the nose, and, finally, his eyes.
His eyes. . . . They were the only thing about him that didn't truly change. A wicked, crimson red, like blood pools for irises staring back at her, and she could only look on in awe at the profound beauty of him. A shadow cast by his brow and hair that foretold Random's psychotic air.
His holoform had the same look of chaotic insanity as his true form, and it stole her breath away.
"A h-holo—holoform . . . ?" she managed to say, more shocked and amazed than she had ever been before.
She heard about this from the other bots. The ability to project an image, a hologram, and then use a mass-generator to give it form. To make it real. Many of them had one, but rarely, if ever, did they actually us it. It took a tremendous amount of energon to create and sustain the body, so it was never used outside an absolute emergency.
There was no way the Autobots were providing him with enough energon to sustain that body for any length of time, so how was he able to do it? Just how strong was he really?
The whirring stopped as the eyebeams shut down, and Blitzwing's main body went into a complete stasis lock, forgoing itself to give life to this illusion.
Random's shadowy face turned pale suddenly, and his grin tapered down into something stoic and unreadable.
"You look surprised," Icy said. "Did you s'ink I vas not able to create somes'ing like zhis?"
Sigma seized control in Eryka's instant of defenseless wonder. Her elegant green eyes glazed over and her lips curled into something truly siren. "It never crossed my mind," she purred.
Eryka, realizing the err, ripped Sigma out of the limelight just a second too late, and Icy caught the change easily. He reached out and pried the tiny orange capsule from his own motionless grasp, and the rattle that sounded reminded her of the direness of the situation. Without those pills, she'd lose control of Sigma, Delta, and Omega entirely, and they'd be free to run amuck exactly as they saw fit, rending her fragile mind to even more pieces than it was already in.
However, what possessed her to go to the bars, she wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps it was merely that she just wasn't thinking straight, what with three other voices telling her to do three different things. The only coherent thought running through her mind was the knowledge that she needed that medication if she wanted to keep what little sanity she had left. And there was also the ungodly idiotic notion which made her think that, because Blitzwing had taken on a human shape, he could do her no harm.
Oh, how wrong she was. And she didn't even take into account that if she herself could fit through the stasis bars, then he could sure as Hell drag her through them.
The next thing she knew, a strong hand grabbed a fistful of her coat and dress and slammed her back against the cell wall, pinning her there with enough force to rob her of breath. The cold metal was hard and unforgiving, but not nearly as much as Hothead's fiery glare. She grappled at his wrist, trying to relieve the pressure on her lungs.
"Now, show me your ozher faces, you organic piece of scrap, and maybe I won't pulverize you into paste!"
"F-faces?" she stuttered, finding it a little difficult to breathe. He couldn't have figured it out just from Sigma's instant of control, could he? No, he must have figured it out earlier on. But how? When had she slipped? And how long had he known? "I-I don't—I don't know what you're talking about."
The answer only got her a rough jostle, bringing her forward only to batter her harder back against the wall. She hit her head this time, knocking off her reading glasses which shattered on the floor, but thankfully her skull was cushioned by her ponytail.
He snarled, "You take me fo' a fool!" Pulling up on the collar of her coat, he actually tore the otherwise tough, white fabric and dragged her close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. It smelled distinctly like diesel fuel. "Don't s'ink you can play dumb with me, filth! Even a bot wizh his optics torn out can see your mind iz split!" His red face paled until it almost turned blue, lending to Icy's cold, stolid visage. "And besidez, it is easy fo' a Changer to recognize anozher Changer."
Then Hothead was back, glaring with an intensity great enough it seemed to heat the very air between them.
Within herself, Eryka felt the fear and anxiety as it began to crack and splinter like glass, heated by the boiling, seething temper it tried to keep at bay.
"You want to see my faces. . . ."
Her voice worked itself into a low, throaty growl. Her grip tightened around his wrist, and although she knew it wasn't his real body, she imagined he could feel her manicured nails digging deep into the artificial flesh on his arm. She was not wrong. Her pretty red lips twisted into a feral snarl, bearing her teeth like an animal gone berserk.
"I'll show you my faces!"
With that, she gave into rage and the brazen craze of wrath. Omega took over, and he introduced himself byway of a vicious head butt straight to Blitzwing's nose.
Taken aback, Hothead let go and stumbled away, holding his face and cursing her for what she'd done. He was about to exact his revenge when Omega greeted him again with a fist in the teeth. While it felt something like pummeling an aluminum pole, Omega was enjoying himself far too greatly to let a little pain ruin it for him.
"The name's Omega," he finally said after throwing a few punches around, popping Eryka's sore, bruised knuckles with such a smug, satisfied gleam.
Icy managed to recover on his knees, stroking his abused jaw as he pulled himself back to his feet. Looking totally fine, it pissed Omega off all over again.
"Please, zhere is no need for us to be fighting like zhis. We should negotiate a compromise befo'e one of us iz injured."
Delta forced her way to the front then, evident in how she swept her wary eyes over the surroundings, keenly aware of the massive, unmoving body towering over them both, and smoothed out Omega's angry glare.
"I agree. I will not force Alpha to fight if there is an alternative route." She extended her hand in an offering of peace. "My name is Delta."
But even Delta could not evade when Random suddenly attacked her unbidden. She shrieked in fright and alarm as he bound her up tight in his impossible hold.
"Oh, my, oh, my! You're juzt full of surprises, aren't you? Me, too! Hahahaha!"
Shoving Delta out of the way, Sigma's telltale smirk spread wide across her face. Humming seductively, "You have no idea."
There was a flurry of motion so swift that even Blitzwing's well-trained optics didn't catch it quickly enough, and she had him on his back, nails digging roughly into the fabric over his chest, straddling his hips and putting her full force into holding him down. A few strands of honey-gold hair wriggled their way free of her ponytail, and with her coat torn and dress riding up in all the right places, she was beginning to look more and more like a tousled goddess than some mere human.
She was panting, now. Even with adrenaline still pumping, she hadn't done anything this strenuous in years.
"Just call me Sigma, sweet-bot."
"Ooh-hoo, you have four facez," Random cheered, loving this little nugget of information. "Hehehe! If zhree minds iz a pa'ty, zhen four must be quite zhe crowd!"
She smirked. "If you like the idea so much, maybe I should figure out how to add another mind to that empty processor of yours. Lord knows there's probably room for it."
Random's grin widened until it reached almost to his ears. "No zhanks!"
Then, her legs fell through him, and like an apparition he rolled out from underneath her only to re-solidify, snap into a crouch, and pounce her like a cackling lion to make the kill. While Sigma might not have been as strong as Omega, she was certainly more resilient than Delta, and she gave Blitzwing a run for his money as he tried to pin her down. Fighting him for dominance, her hair tie was torn out by his grappling at some point, and she rolled with him over and over along the ground. She would have kept going, too, had she not smacked suddenly into a giant, metal kneecap.
Seizing the opportunity, Random threw her ungraciously over his head, and Sigma landed on her back with a solid thud that knocked the wind clean out of her, helpless to fight back as Blitzwing returned to finish what he'd started.
Finally, Sigma caved and gave way to Alpha, leaving her to gasp with a sudden rush of returning air, and she all but collapsed onto the floor beneath him, hair splayed out like a sea of wavy gold. Dazed, delirious, and trapped by Blitzwing, there was nothing more she could do.
"You organics are so eazy to overpowa'." Icy sounded a little disappointed, looking down upon a disheveled Eryka Fitz, eyebrows pursed.
She scoffed at that, panting, and smirked at the thought of Omega pounding his face in. "You sure? Seemed like you were . . . having trouble for a second there."
"Technical glitch. Zhis body iz not easy to control." Random grinned, "But when have I eva' been?"
Eryka laid there for a bit, trying to regain herself while looking up at Blitzwing's wide, maniacal grin. She was probably going to die, now. That much she understood and accepted—spent as she was, there would be no more fighting back. She would let it happen. After all, being killed by Blitzwing would probably be better than living her life as a lie, on some levels anyway.
But the look on his face was not one of the pure, simpleminded malice of the other, normal Decepticons. There was something shimmering behind Random's glinting, mischievous eyes. Something unspoken which all three had undoubtedly agreed on.
"Well?" she said after a bit, Omega's impatience seeping through into the open. "Aren't you going to kill me?"
"No," it was Icy who replied. "I have somes'ing far betta' in mind."
She decided it'd be best to hear him out this time.
"My desire fo' escape remains, as is my villingness to negotiate." He reached into his pocket with his one free hand and removed the rattling bottle of pills—his token of luck and collateral. "I have somes'ing you want, and you can help me to ezcape from zhis place."
They held eye contact for a moment, and it was quiet between them. Likely allowing for the information to sink in and for Eryka to consider her situation.
Blitzwing already had the argument planned out in his processor. He counted his cards and knew exactly what he was going to bring to the table, and so too did he know the ones that she had to play. Nothing she could say or do would counter him, now. He was at the advantage.
And yet, no matter how prepared he thought he was, he wasn't ready for her immediate reply.
"Better idea. I'll get you out all right, but under two conditions."
His brow arched up high and quirked over a curious red eye, more than a little stunned by this development. Obviously not expecting things to go this way, at least this quickly. She knew by his face that he'd anticipated something far more difficult. He couldn't help his own curiosity.
"Oh? And vhat would zhose be?"
"I'll get you out, but you have to promise you'll take me with you. Wherever it is you plan on going, I don't care where, I want you to take me with you. I've got to get out of this place, Blitzwing; if I stay stuck here with the Autobots any longer, I really will lose my mind."
Random cackled at the thought. "Soundz like fun, but how can you looze vhat's already gone? Ahahaha!"
Regardless, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like where things were headed. This was turning out so much easier than what Icy had in mind.
"Vhat's zhe ozher condition, Docta' Strange? Hmmmm?" Thinking he knew what her next words would be, he rattled the bottle tauntingly, grinning and laughing with complete confidence.
Guess again, my love, Sigma droned, but it was Alpha who remained in complete control. She arched her back up off the ground, limber with her hands still pinned above her head, and edged her face as close as she could possibly get to his awe-struck features. Face-to-face, scarcely inches of empty air between them, she breathed heatedly on his lightly parted lips, the remnants of his grin vanishing from existence.
"Kiss me, and I'll set you free."
Utterly frozen, Random could do nothing more than stare at her. Even Icy and Hothead were at a loss for words, putting his mind in a strange, uneasy kind of quiet that he just didn't like.
Definitely not what Icy had planned for.
When it came down to it, though, her offer sounded megatons better than the one Icy had wanted to do. So ecstatic was he to make the deal that Random met her with such eagerness that he missed his mark and caught the corner of her lips instead. But the sneaky human, crafty as she was, had already freed her hands and grabbed him by the roots of his holoform's hair, crushing them together with a violent passion more fierce than Hothead on his meanest of solar cycles.
Her mind took brief notice of how he tasted like a cocktail of metal, energon, and diesel fuel, but she couldn't for the life of her think of it as unpleasant. She was enjoying herself far too much for that.
They shared that moment for a long time, hands roaming each other's bodies, familiarizing himself with the human's soft, curvy structure, surprised at how good it felt to his war-hardy servos. The whole time, Random, Icy, and Hothead had trouble deciding who got to be in control, and it eventually turned into a power struggle that she was probably enjoying a little too much than was good for her.
Hothead's powerful hand took a fistful of her pretty gold hair and held it tight, Icy's cool touch combing down her chest, side, down to her hip, and all along her smooth thigh, and Random's crazed lips dominating hers like a fight for survival. All combined, Blitzwing elicited a sound from her that made his processor glitch and his data go haywire.
He definitely needed to keep her around.
So, when he finally broke from her, giving the human a chance to regain herself—seeing as he had no biological lungs to need to breathe—he watched in excitement as her flushed, reddened face tried to reach some form of composure.
Icy's hand held the bottle to her in offering, still willing to keep his side of a deal that hadn't really been made, and he watched as her delirious smile twisted into something odd and unknown, perhaps even a little sinister. As if deciding on something in that instant that could very well alter fate as she knew it. And the idea excited her to no foreseeable end.
She took the bottle from him, and he wasn't the least bit surprised when she threw it over her shoulder and returned her arms around his neck, both listening to the resounding pop and electric shock of when the rattling bottle collided with a stasis bar and burst into flames.
Purring a tone like all four minds combined, "Who needs sanity when this is so goddamned fun?" She laced her fingers into the back of his head, grasping the roots with a strength that surprised even him, and her other hand clung to the back of his neck, immaculate nails digging like claws at the nape of his artificial skin. Breathing hot against his lips, "Just call me Alpha."
Random's grin broadened up against his eyes, and he met her once more to seal the deal.
Like a contract signed in blood, an oath was made in the fiery heat of passion. Symbiotic, fiendish, and so enticingly decadent. It posed an opportunity far too promising for either of them to ignore. A promise of fulfillment and of freedom, and neither was willing to pass it up, now.
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