Okay, I know I have a lot of things being written right now, but this bunny wouldn't leave me alone. This should be short, only a handful of chapters that will be posted close together. I know I read a story like this before somewhere; if I recall correctly, it was about Starscream seeing something on television about abuse and telling Megatron that he'd had enough. If anyone knows this story, I would love to know the name so I could give the author their dues, because that story partially inspired this fic, along with the song "Crying Out" by Shinedown, weird as that is, so a clip of their lyrics will be in each chapter; I'm planning on three.

Now, why Breakdown, you may ask? Because I love the Stunticons and everybody always has Motormaster beating on them all, so I decided to play off of that. Breakdown's paranoia just made things easier. I would have chosen Dead End, but he wouldn't care as much about being beaten, because they were just helping him get to the end of his life by doing so.

Also, like all of my TF fics, this is in my own AU mix of G1 and '07 'verse. If you are unfamiliar with this, that means that all gestalts were formed pre-Earth, RotF never happened (Megatron is back by some unspoken twist of fate), and everyone came to Earth when I chose (they're all already on Earth though here, so that doesn't matter), and the Decepticon base is not underwater, just to make my life that bit easier.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of its characters, but I do own the situations used here. The lyrics to "Crying Out" belong to Shinedown. And the book that Breakdown reads? Yeah, that's mine too. As in, all excerpts from it are written by yours truly. 'Tis mine!

"Don't use a weakness, don't change the subject

Don't ask the questions if you fear the answer

You look distorted, let's make you clearer

Let's flip the switch and use the smoke and mirrors

Reinvent yourself today

Reinvent your world today

Cryin' out for the last time

Clear a space for the warning signs

Cryin' out for the last time

And there's no turning back

Now that you've opened up to your mind"

~ "Crying Out" - Shinedown

"You slagging glitch!"

Kick.

"This is all your fault!"

Didn't he know it.

Thrown into a wall.

"You useless, pathetic, miserable coward!"

Yes, yes, he's quite aware, but thanks for the reminder.

Forearm torn off.

"Do you understand how you made us all look in front of Megatron, in front of the Decepticons, in front of the Pit-slagged Autoscum?"

No, pray tell! It wasn't like Megatron hadn't already gone through this spiel earlier when he had been the one beating him. Of course, that was after he had already beaten himself up. But please, do continue.

Punch to the faceplates; left optic shattered, right one cracked.

"I should just deactivate you now!"

Sometimes, I wish you would... But no, he wasn't even worthy of death. That was too kind for him. No, he deserved all of the pain. He had messed up, after all.

Direct shot to the spark. Stasis lock initiating in five, four, three...

"I swear to Primus, we all would have been better off if you had never been created."

He wished he hadn't been. He wished he wasn't such a burden on his faction, on his brothers, always messing up, always freezing up, never getting the job done. That was him. Useless and deserving of everything he received.

...Two, one. Stasis lock initiated.

"Nobody wants you here, Breakdown."

Breakdown onlined where he had gone into stasis lock, lying on the floor of the Stunticons' common room. His self-repair systems had done what they could, which was only so much. They had healed him enough, though, that he could make it to the medbay. But he didn't get up immediately.

As always, he contemplated what would happen if he just stayed here on the floor, unmoving. Would he die eventually? Probably, but one of his brothers would come through before that in all likelihood, and then he would get another beating on top of the two he already had in the last orn.

It's not like I don't deserve it, though...

With a soft groan the Stunticon sat up and quickly checked for any signs of his brothers. Finding none, he forced his protesting joints to creak to a stand. Grabbing his severed forearm, the partially blinded mech made the trip to the Nemesis' medbay in constant fear of being caught. Thank Primus it was night on Earth, and most Decepticons had turned in. Still, he kept his helm down and moved as quickly as his broken chassis would allow. It wouldn't do for his brothers to see him now.

He always avoided them, after a beating, for at least three days, if not longer. Sometimes he stayed away for up to a week, recharging in hallways or storage closets, sometimes even outside the ship, in his effort to keep away from his gestalt while they cooled down. Even though Motormaster was the one who doled out punishment, after the initial beating the others were occasionally inclined to join in if they saw him with his latest transgression still fresh in their processors.

So he stayed away. It wasn't like they cared. They all hated him, and with good reason. He was a disgrace to his gestalt and to his faction. He should never have been created, like Motormaster had told him. The gestalt leader was always right, after all.

Finally, finally he made it to the medbay. The lights had been dimmed, and for a moment, he wondered if his whole trip had been in vain and the medbay was empty. But then he saw Hook, slumped over a desk in the corner, obviously in recharge. Breakdown really didn't want to wake him up, didn't want to upset him too. He turned to leave, but the crushed pede he had been dragging behind him (this was courtesy of Megatron) scraped against the metal floor, producing a screeching sound loud enough to make the Stunticon wince and to rouse Hook from his recharge.

"Breakdown?" the Decepticon pseudo-medic asked groggily. When his optics onlined fully, he cursed colorfully to himself. "Primus kid, what did they do to you this time?"

"Nothing I didn't deserve," he mumbled. Hook always said things like this to him, like the injuries weren't Breakdown's own fault. Didn't he understand that Breakdown brought this pain on himself? He was only being beaten because of his own actions and uselessness. It was his fault, not Megatron's or his brothers'.

"My aft," the Constructicon replied bluntly, but he didn't say more on the subject, and Breakdown was thankful for it. Hook helped him to a berth and sat him down and grabbed his forearm from him, scowling at it before sitting it down at the end of the berth. "Can you even see anything?"

"Barely," he muttered. Hook swore again.

"I was wondering if you were even going to show up this time, after how long you took, but looking at you now I can understand the delay. Wait here, I'm going to get Scrapper."

Breakdown stayed where he was; it wasn't like he was going anywhere anytime soon. Hook always seemed to know when he would be showing up with injuries from a beating, and would often wait up for him. He never understood why, but he appreciated the help. After he had been repaired, it made it easier to lay low from his brothers. After these beatings, not only from Motormaster but from Megatron, his best bet was to grab some energon and leave for a while, maybe more than a week. Nobody would miss him anyway.

"Holy Primus." Breakdown turned towards the swear, but his single, cracked optic couldn't make out who it was. There were at least three mechs there, but Hook had only said he was getting Scrapper. Realization dawned on him as he saw that Scrapper and Hook were present, along with Bonecrusher. Why would he be there? Unless... Oh. He must have done something wrong again.

He looked down and averted his optics, the best he could do to calm their almost certain anger. But he could still feel their optics on him...watching him...

That had been his problem earlier. It had been his job to take out Autobots who got near Astrotrain so that the others could continue loading the shuttle with stolen energon. But he had, of course, failed in this endeavor, quite miserably so.

At least five Autobots had been making an approach on the shuttle, or more specifically, on him. And he really wasn't being paranoid that time. When Breakdown had started to aim at one of them, all of them turned at the exact same moment and just stared at him. They didn't move, they didn't speak, they just stared.

Breakdown had found himself frozen, unable to move at all as all he could do was watch the mechs looking at him and pray to Primus that they would stop. His processor just couldn't handle it, them watching him. He knew, logically, that this was why the Autobots were doing it in the first place. Pit, they were even smiling and grinning smugly at each other! But even knowing this, he just couldn't move.

That's why it was his fault that the mission had failed. He had stopped guarding in his terror, and the Autobots were able to get at the others. The Decepticons barely got any energon from the raid, and it was all Breakdown's fault. So yes, he did deserve all of the beatings he received, because it was all his fault, anyway.

The Lamborghini whimpered softly in discomfort, preparing himself for the beating that was sure to come, all the while despising himself for being so weak. He didn't deserve to call himself a Decepticon.

"What happened to him?" asked a gruff voice that Breakdown could only guess belonged to Bonecrusher; he wouldn't know for sure, because he made a conscious effort to stay away from the more violent Decepticons, which basically meant everybody. But that didn't matter, because nobody would want to be his friend, anyway.

"Megatron, with Motormaster to top it off. Actually, I believe the latter did most of the damage." That was Hook speaking; he was sure, as only he had such a cultured voice.

Someone growled and Breakdown flinched, tensing for a blow. The growling stopped immediately. He heard Hook hiss, "Stop that, 'Crusher, he thinks you're going to hurt him." There was the sound of steps approaching, and then Hook's voice was coming from right next to his berth. "I'm sorry about Bonecrusher, when I went to retrieve Scrapper I ended up accidentally waking him as well, and he insisted on coming with us because he was 'bored.'"

Breakdown flinched again, thinking on what happened to him when Motormaster was "bored." Because when Motormaster was bored, he became violent, or at least more than usual, and that meant that he would be trolling for a punching bag, and Breakdown was just oh-so-convenient. Not to mention that he undoubtedly deserved it.

"Why would they do this?" inquired quietly the third voice, which must have been Scrapper.

"I messed up," the Lamborghini said, speaking so softly that he was almost impossible to hear. But he had learned not to speak too loudly, lest he anger somebody. Nobody wanted to talk to him, anyway.

Bonecrusher scoffed. "What, that thing at the raid today? Sorry to break it to ya, kid, but you couldn't have taken on five Autobots at once even if they had no optics. There were too many for you to have fought. It was bad planning, not you."

Breakdown was confused. Bonecrusher wasn't going to hurt him? No, he was talking the way Hook did. He obviously did not understand that it was Breakdown's fault. Of course he warranted beatings; he was a failure.

He shook his helm, not bothering to online his single optic because it couldn't see well anyway. "But I still failed. I made my brothers and my faction look pathetic in front of others. I deserved what I got."

Somebody swore, but Breakdown couldn't tell who. He just felt Hook gently, much too gently for what he deserved, pushing him to lay down on the berth as he began to assess the damage to his forearm, trying to figure out the best route to take to reattach it.

"Do you really think that?" Scrapper had a weird tone to his voice, confusion and disgust rolled into one. Disgust; oh, Breakdown was no stranger to being the target of that particular sentiment.

"I know it."

Bonecrusher growled again, and he flinched once more. "How long?" he snarled. Breakdown was too busy preparing to be hit to answer, but it turned out he wasn't the one the question was being aimed at.

Hook said, "I've been repairing him at least since he came to Earth, but I suspect that the beatings began far before that."

Breakdown was more than confused now. Began? They had always been there, since he onlined. Pit, he was beaten up on his first vorn of activation! Primus, an orn old and already an epic screw-up. He said as much to the Constructicon trio.

There was silence in the medbay; even Hook stopped working to repair his forearm. Breakdown wondered if he had said something wrong again and should just leave. He moved to sit up, but Hook pressed him back against the berth. "You aren't going anywhere, not until I've finished repairing you."

Taking a chance, Breakdown said, "I don't understand why you're all so surprised. It's what's supposed to happen – the subordinate fails in their duties and their commanding officer punishes them for it."

The horrified silence was deafening; Scrapper spoke next, softly and slowly.

"That's...You really think that? That's what you've been taught? They told you that what they're doing is okay, is normal? Breakdown, when one of my gestalt misbehaves, they get an extra joor of work, or cleaning duty, or some of their privileges taken away, or if it's really bad, some brig time. But I don't beat them, I wouldn't even think of it."

"They're not really beating me. I don't get hurt any worse than when others get into fights."

Hook stopped in his repairs once more, and Breakdown could feel his optics watching him. "Yes, you do. When Bonecrusher and Long Haul get into fights, they come back with a few dents and a couple of contusions. Even when Starscream gets slagged over by Megatron for one of his schemes, he still isn't hurt as badly as you are. What happens to you is not at all normal." As he spoke, the Lambo could feel someone else, Scrapper, he guessed, approaching his other side and beginning to repair his optics.

"But...but I deserve it. I never do anything right."

"Kid, if we all did everything right all the time we would be Autobots," Bonecrusher scoffed. "Even if you're wrong, you shouldn't be abused for it."

Breakdown's thoughts came to a halt. Abused? He wasn't being abused. He knew about abuse; he had seen a special on it on that human television that Skywarp and the cassette twins had been watching. A squishy femme had been talking to some other femme about some sort of literature she had written, titled It's Not Your Fault. The book was supposed to be a guide for victims of abuse on how to deal with their situation and get out of it. But Breakdown knew he wasn't being abused, because the people that book was intended for didn't deserve the beatings they got; he, on the other hand, did.

"I'm not being abused," he said.

Bonecrusher sharply released air from his vents in a snort. "Kid, if you aren't being abused then I have an undying love for Ironhide."

"You're in love with Ironhide?"

"I was being sarcastic."

"But you said you were in love with him if I wasn't being abused, and I'm not being abused. Doesn't that mean that you're in love with him?"

Scrapper finished replacing his optical glass. The Stunticon could now see the look of confusion on Bonecrusher's faceplates as the Constructicon stared at Hook, silently requesting an explanation.

"I've tried to explain it to him before," sighed the sometimes-medic. "He won't listen. They have him firmly believing all of the slag they feed him." Hook put the finishing touches on his forearm and began to check out the damage to his chest from Motormaster's shot while Scrapper worked on his crushed pede.

"I'm right here, you know."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that. But really, you shouldn't put up with all of this."

Breakdown for once was the instigator of the optic contact. He looked at each of the Constructicons before asking hoarsely, "What else can I do?"

Nobody spoke for the remainder of the repairs.

Afterwards, Breakdown trudged through the darkened, silent base, pondering his options for the night. He couldn't go back to the Stunticons' quarters, no, not at least for a week this time, if not longer. Hook had instructed him to get some energon to balance out with the amount he had lost, but he remembered Megatron's orders: Due to his failure at the raid, he was not to have any energon. If anybody tried to help him, they would receive the same punishment. Breakdown wasn't sure if Hook was aware of this, but he wouldn't risk the harm of the only mechs who didn't openly hate him. No energon for him in the near future.

Considering how universally fragged off the whole base was with him, corridors and storage closets weren't going to be the best of places tonight. Nope, it looked like Breakdown was going to enjoy the good old outdoors...where all those little woodland creatures could stare at him...

Shoving down his fear and paranoia, the Lambo made for the outdoors, transforming into his alt mode when he reached them. He drove for miles, just him and the rough earthen terrain. When he had finally deemed himself a safe distance from his comrades at about fifty miles away, he found a nice big tree and settled underneath it, still in his alt mode.

Yet he couldn't fall into recharge. Every time he tried, the Constructicons' conversation kept ringing in his helm.

Was he being abused? He didn't think so, but they all did... Well, that squishy femme's book was about abuse. Maybe it could tell him.

It did not take a long time wirelessly surfing the internet to find an online copy of the book. Breakdown pulled it up, and began to read. He skipped a lot of parts, but others jumped out at him.

No matter what anyone says, it is not your fault. You have done nothing wrong; there is nothing you could have done that could have necessitated abuse. You are the victim in this situation, and don't let anybody ever try to make you think otherwise. They are to blame, not you, no matter what you may or may not have done.

It was just like what the Constructicons had said, and he doubted that they spent their time reading human self-help novels. He skipped some more and continued on.

Abuse is when someone in your life physically, emotionally, or mentally harms you. They could hit you or beat you, control your life, call you names such as worthless, pathetic, or useless. They may tell you that nobody likes or needs or wants you. This is abuse, and it is not right, no matter what they tell you. You are a person and you do not deserve this treatment. You are better than that.

Breakdown pondered this. Was he really undeserving of this? Could Megatron and his brothers really be the ones in the wrong? Because if this was abuse, it was describing his everyday life. Did that mean that...he was being abused? But these books always talked about a significant other being the abuser. Breakdown didn't have a significant other, because nobody cared about him that much.

He skipped to a section on the abuser.

Contrary to popular belief, the abuser is not always a man (a victim can be male, and an abuser can be female) and it is not always the victim's significant other. The abuser could be a parent, or even a child, in some cases of abuse to the elderly. They could be a friend or coworker or some sort of superior, or possibly a sibling.

A sibling or superior... They could be abusers too...

Megatron and his brothers were abusing him.

Breakdown didn't know what to do with this revelation. What was he supposed to do? Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons; there was nobody above him in rank to stop him from harming Breakdown or Starscream or any of his soldiers. Motormaster and his brothers...they were tied to him in a gestalt bond. They were always connected to him, though they often blocked him out.

A sudden idea came to Breakdown. He could block them out. He could put up a wall over his side of the bond to keep them from finding him! Wait, keep them from finding him? Yes, that was it. He would run away! They already thought he was a coward. Well, the book said that it was okay to run away from your abuser if you had no other option, nowhere to go. They suggested a shelter, but Breakdown couldn't go there for obvious reasons. He could go to the Autobots... No, that would never work. They hated him too and would kill him on sight, and that would only make everyone hate him more.

But he could leave. He could just continue driving and go far, far away. With a block over his bond, they would never be able to locate him, to drag him back. He could be free, free of the pain and suffering, the crushing loneliness of being unwanted. Fuel may be a problem, but he could try living off of the humans' primitive fuel sources. He'd had to before, and it worked in a pinch. He could do this, he could really do this. And so he would.

Breakdown went about placing a block in his bond. He always treaded lightly when it came to the bond, just in case he might upset someone. For a moment the Lamborghini thought he felt someone stir across the bond, but when no speech came, he continued with his work, building up block after block of codes and firewalls. When he had finished, the wall was sufficiently thick and impenetrable. Nobody would be bothering him anytime soon.

With that task completed, Breakdown made for the road, a copy of the book saved to his hard drive. He didn't know where he would go or what he would do, but he wasn't going to let anybody hurt him anymore. He'd had enough.

He refused to be a victim ever again.

That's the first chapter of probably three. Hope you liked it! Please review!