Warnings: Violence, gore.
Spoilers: Transformers movie
Obligatory Disclaimer: I own no part of Transformers or any of it characters.
Revolutionary
"Revolution is not something fixed in ideology, nor is it something fashioned to a particular decade. It is a perpetual process embedded in the human spirit."
-Abbie Hoffman
He bent down in the filth of the street, hunkering low in the shadows as one of the Quintesson's probes floated by, scanning every facet of the area around them. Powering down his optics, he slunk further into the darkness, praying silently, as he always did, for the sentinel to pass without event.
His hands were shaking.
Quiet, he reminded himself mentally, Keep quiet or you'll give everyone away.
Internal pumps strained to keep the flow of vital fluids running throughout his form. The dirty liquid sloshed around, impurities catching on the insides of tubes and damaging systems. They had not had a chance to refuel properly in ages and had been forced to recycle. Months old lubricant took the toll on their battle-damaged bodies. Recent, untreated battle injuries now made the situation dire.
He lurched forward suddenly, hand over his mouth as one of his something inside him ruptured, liquid erupting from a wound and pouring into his throat. Gagging, he curled into himself, desperate to keep silent.
Primus please, not now...not now...just a little while longer and it'll be gone. Just a bit longer...
He choked.
The probe's sensitive transmitters twitched, and it whirled around expectantly, monitors appearing from its head. Infrared scanners came online, casting an eerie red glow over the shattered and twisted pieces of metal supports, poking up from among the ruins of a recently destroyed warehouse like the bones of creatures left to die.
He coughed again, and the probe bleeped electronic command, swooping down and sweeping ever closer. Optics widened in fear as his fellow robots tried to bury themselves deeper in shadows.
No resistance met the hands of the others as they pushed him down and buried him beneath their grasp, muffling sound. Limbs covered his body, partially blocking his eyesight, but it could not stop him from catching the streak of silver across the smoky sky.
Too late, he thought, Too late...they've seen us...I've killed us all...
For a second, there was a terrible, aching silence. And then a stream of light streaked overhead before slamming into the wall behind them, exploding on impact.
Someone from behind cried out in agony, and suddenly there were dozens of lasers flying overhead. Hands released him as weapons were drawn, shots fired. He struggled to stand, systems screaming in protest. A laser scorched his arm, and he stumbled around, desperately trying to defend himself.
He saw friends falling around him. There was mech fluid on the ground, and the scent of burned wires and scorched metal was heavy on the air. Behind him, another 'bot fell at the hands of the sentinel, crying out as his hand was shorn off. In a desperate gamble, he spotted the weapon knocked from his hand several feet away, and though the sentinel was coming closer, he leapt for it.
Time seemed to slow as the silver sentinel turned and locked onto his signal. He froze, halfway to his weapon, unable to respond as the front laser powered up.
...he saw it fire, saw it coming towards him at light speeds...
...there was the sound of voices and a blur of movement...
...somebody slammed him to the ground, and his head smacked against the pavement, and something shattered and he went blind, and he knew something had been seriously broken...
...mech fluid and oil spilled and pooled around him...
And then there was darkness.
He awoke to the dim illumination of a work lamp. Everything in his field of vision was vague and fuzzy. Struggling to see, he reached out blindly, blinking rapidly, the grit grinding in his optics.
Salvation arrived in the form of an obsidian hand gently lowering itself upon his features and wiping the dirt away. He breathed a soft sigh as his vision cleared, realizing that his poor sight wasn't due solely to outside interference--one of his optics was completely offline.
As if reading his thoughts, a voice answered softly, "Sorry 'bout the damage, buddy. We didn't mean to throw you down that hard.
"Don't worry about it," he responded automatically, recognizing the voice, "You did what had to be done." He paused for a moment, then added as an after thought, "Thank you."
Highwire then offered no further apology, helpless with the knowledge that his friend had stated the truth. He shook his head. "Still, you took a bruising out there, Breakline."
"I think we all did." The robot sat up with obvious pain. "Is everyone okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, we were lucky this time. Edge managed to knock out the sentinel's alarms before it sounded an alert. It wasn't difficult disabling it after that." Highwire paused. "But it won't take long before the Quints notice one of their units is down, so as soon as repairs are finished and we get new supplies, expect to make a break for the Underground."
Breakline nodded, still mulling over the day's earlier events. Danger was a given in any mission. Existence, even, at this point in their planet's history was dangerous. But to have been the one that had endangered all of them needlessly? Breakline let out a sigh.
"...But in the meantime," Highwire continued, "Rest a little." He eyed Breakline again for a moment. "And don't go blaming yourself for what happened out there today. It could've happened to any of us. We were all damaged."
Breakline shrugged absently. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But still...I'm glad everyone got out okay. If someone had died today because of me..." He trailed off, leaving the thought to the imagination.
Highwire cracked a grim, humorless smile. "Yeah, I know. But hell, you live and you learn, right?"
A snort greeted his remark. "Yeah, I guess. Trouble is keeping the 'living' part in." Breakline sighed. "Primus, I can't wait for the day we won't have to run anymore." He looked up. "You know what I mean?"
"I think we all do," Highwire answered quietly.
"One has to wonder if we'll ever really win this war. The Quints machines have us outnumbered ten to one."
"True," he rejoined thoughtfully, "But more of their 'hardware' "--Highwire spat the word viciously--"gains sentience everyday. One of these days, we won't be the slaves any more." He paused for a moment, then clenched a fist. "Just be glad you were brought online towards the end of this revolution. We built you, not those slave drivers. You guys'll get to have this planet all to yourselves without all the bad memories of oppression."
Breakline studied him. "You honestly believe this'll work?"
"Of course," Highwire responded, "I mean, what do we have to lose? Our lives? Under the rule of Quintessons, you don't even know what life is." He smiled faintly. "And besides, we've got something that they don't."
"Really?"
"Yep. Something they can't kill."
"As in?"
"Hope."
"That's not very helpful when you're pinned beneath a sentinel."
"Yeah it is. Why else would you even bother to fight in the first place? It's what drove you out onto that battle and then ended up with you under that sentinel."
"Point," Breakline mused, "But then you have to wonder if it's really worth it. I mean, we're going to have one hell of a time cleaning this place up."
Catching on, Highwire continued, "Yes, and we'll have to rename the place..."
Breakline snorted. "Knowing our leader's originality, it'll probably be named 'Cybertron' or something."
"Eh, leave him be. He does his job well," Highwire scolded. Then he smirked. "Just don't give him ideas."
Breakline chuckled softly. "That's a big affirmative, doc."
Highwire smiled a moment longer before letting his face fade to a neutral expression. "Anyway," he said, abruptly standing, "I gotta go help Traction with some of the other wounded. Didja know we still haven't fixed Eightline's audio sensors?"
A sympathetic look passed through Breakline's features. "Poor guy. He took it hard last time."
"He took it like a warrior," Highwire answered simply. He began gathering his tools as he spoke. "I patched up most of your internals. Much as I could until we get back to the Underground, anyway. If I have time and extra supplies left later on, I'll come back and see what I can do about that eye, 'kay?"
"Really?" Breakline rejoined before smiling faintly. "Thanks Highwire. I dunno how the lot of us would get on without you sometimes."
A snort was his reply. "I'd hope you were practical enough to find another medic," he answered wryly.
Breakline laughed. "You know what I mean. It just wouldn't be the same. We're like, I dunno, family or something."
Unreadable optics read Breakline for a moment. "Yeah, I do." The medic then gave a laugh. "A fairly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. I'll see ya, Breakline, take care of yourself."
"Eh, don't worry about me, 'Wire. I will."
"I'm sure. Just don't pull any heroics any time soon, okay?"
His patient mock-saluted. "Yes, sir!"
Highwire shook his head, muttering, and left without responding, returning to the corridor to the dozens who awaited his doctor's touch, who suffered in the dark idly chasing lost ideals of hope. Where the darkness waited.
But despite the grim reality of it all, he was smiling.
"Skydive, Firewall, defensive positions! Take out that sentinel!"
Breakline threw himself to the side, narrowly missing a Quintesson guards' laser fire. He grasped his right arm, biting down the pain as it flared up.
They hadn't seen the attack coming. Not by a long shot. At the least, they had thought that there would be enough time to make it halfway to base. Escaped, rather than have found themselves cornered like retro rats with no means of survival.
Many had died in the instant all sides of the building had seemingly exploded inward, pummeled by the sentinel drones that had spent the last few hours slowly circling and gathering round the building like predators prowling in the night.
Live and learn, Breakline thought bitterly. Ducking behind a dumpster, he fired off a series of rapid shots before retreating to cover once again. As he slid down, he became abruptly aware that he had company.
"Hello Highwire," he acknowledged without looking, "Mighty fine evening for a stroll, is it not?"
"Oh, it's just crystal perfect," Highwire replied, reloading his weapons.
The two stood together as the tell-tale treads of the Quintesson battle drones rumbled too close for comfort and began firing off round after round at the oncoming enemy.
"Y'know," Breakline grunted as he tried to focus, "You never did get to my optic."
"Sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to make an appointment for later. This doctor's schedule is currently filled."
Highwire looked on grimly as more drones appeared through the clearing smoke. "Fall back," he shouted over the calamity, "We'll have to find another way back and regroup at the Underground later."
Breakline spared the Quintesson guards a glance. "I'm completely with that option," he hissed as a laser grazed his shoulder.
"C'mon!"
Highwire grabbed Breakline and hauled him backwards, retreating deeper into the dark alley. The two ran through the back streets, making their way through piles of garbage and demolished buildings, weaving in and out of shadows. Behind them, the electronic screech of the drones communicating with one another could be heard loudly, as could the sound of their footsteps giving chase.
They turned a corner, expecting a road to spread out before them, only to come to a screeching halt as a formidable fortress of a wall rose before them.
"Aw slag, of all the time to run into the proverbial dead end..." Highwire glanced behind him fearfully as the sounds of laser fire drew closer. He returned his gaze to the wall for a moment, then gave a sound of relief as he noted an overhanging walkway. "C'mon!" he cried, pulling Breakline over. Cupping his hands, he motioned for Breakline to start getting up. Knowing they didn't have time to argue, he acted accordingly.
Swinging his legs over the top of the catwalk, he then leaned down and stretched. He fished around until he felt Highwire's hand grip his firmly and began pulling him up just as the sentinel drones turned the corner. Breakline swore filthily as he saw them.
"Slaggit, we gotta Hunter on our tails!"
If any fear swept through him at that revelation, Highwire didn't show it. The speed at which he climbed did increase, however, and he finally tumbled over the edge and onto Breakline as they both fell back.
Hurriedly, the two stood up and looked around desperately until Breakline spotted a window. "There," he said pointing, "If we managed to climb up and get into the building, there's a possibility it might have an opening to the underground tunnels. If not, it would at least give us time on the other side. These guys would have to smash through to catch us."
Highwire started to respond but was cut off as an explosion struck the wall next to them. Beneath them, the catwalk lurched and creaked ominously. "Let's go," he urged as he regained his balance.
The building had been abandoned and survived the war long enough to have a number of cracks, crevices, and rather larger holes in it. The trick was making way along said foot holes while in open sight of the drones' weapons range. The building next to them had decayed, and some of the supports had collapsed to the side, partially shielding them, but they were otherwise clear targets.
Breakline grunted in surprise as a laser beam exploded the cement wall next to him, his hand nearly losing its grip as shrapnel sank into it. He felt Highwire giving him wobbly support, and with great effort, he managed to drag himself back into a climbing position.
"Just...a bit closer..." he whispered, straining.
His hand finally caught on the edge of the window sill, and he smashed the glass in, rolling headfirst into the room. His fall sent up a cloud of plaster dust that caught on the drying mech fluids of his one offline optic. He stumbled back to the window, reaching blindly for Highwire. For a moment he couldn't feel anything, and his fluid pump skipped a beat. Had Highwire been struck in the few moments it took him to recover himself? His motions grew more desperate until finally a dark hand closed over his, and he pulled up suddenly.
"About time," Highwire complained as he was dragged in. "What took you so long?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Breakline responded, laughing off his fear.
"Laser canon clipped my shoulder. Almost lost my grip. Had to climb back up a few feet." Highwire paused a moment, resting against the wall as it shook behind them. "Slaggin' Hunters."
"Yeah, they're definitely the Quints worst ones yet."
"To their credit, they've got one hell of a punch." He winced, rotating his shoulder. "C'mon, we gotta get going. It won't take long for more reinforcements to arrive."
They began moving about, searching for a way out of the room. The building, Highwire corrected himself, had not been used in a very long time. It was possible that it had never even been finished, if anything was to judge from the assorted building materials scattered about. He could only pray construction had progressed enough to provide them with a means of escape.
Highwire was feeling along the left wall when he heard Breakline exclaim, "I think I found something!"
Rushing over, the medic began clearing away debris the other was unable to reach. His finger felt along the hinges of a door panel, sliding down until he found the opening. "Here," he said to Breakline, "I found the edge."
The two grasped a hold and began tugging. Inch by inch, they slowly pried the doors open until there was a space wide enough for both 'bots to wedge through.
Stepping back, Highwire began talking hurriedly. "All right, listen. As soon as we get out of here, we head for the nearest subrail and make a run for the underbase, you understand? We can't afford to be caught out here alone again."
Breakline half-listened, his attention distracted as he became abruptly aware of something entirely else.
"Highwire," he interrupted, holding up a hand, "Do you hear that?"
Obligingly, Highwire responded by pausing and listening. He looked back irritated. "There's nothing."
"Exactly," Breakline pointed out, "Where are all the explosions?"
Highwire froze, finally cognizant of how quiet everything had become. He turned around and made his way to the window, trepidation radiating in every step. "Where are they?" he whispered. Cautiously, he peered out over the edge, optics widening at what was below.
He backed away quickly. "They're gone. Where did they go?" Optics flicked around the room. "There's no way they could have gotten in. It was a dead end! Unless they left, but they aren't programmed to..." He trailed off.
"Since when did a Hunter give up its prey?" Breakline finished quietly.
Noticeably uneasy, Highwire began walking towards Breakline. "We have to get out of here--"
The floor beneath them exploded.
Breakline felt himself thrown back, slamming into the metal of the door and denting it. His weapon fell from his hand, ending up tumbling down through the hole in the floor. He scrambled to safer ground, nearly slipping as the rock and metal twisted beneath his feet, crumbling. Grabbing hold of what remained of the door, he pulled himself into a stable position before leaning over and looking frantically for Highwire.
Breakline found him hanging precariously over the wide, unfeeling maw below, the Hunter standing amidst the center of them with an eerie, detached amusement in its unseeing optics. Repressing a shudder, Breakline reached for Highwire. The medic missed the first time, almost slipping, but managed to grab his hand on the second try. Breakline held on desperately, knowing that moving forward might shift the rock beneath them and send both plummeting to their deaths.
Laser fire rose from below, striking the loose rubble. Breakline braced himself as another blast nearly threw him over.
"Don't worry," he gasped as Highwire lost his footing, "I gotcha."
"I always worry," Highwire murmured softly.
"Well don't," Breakline snapped, wincing as another laser scorched his injured shoulder. He managed to maneuver his hand farther down Highwire's arm. "I think I got you..." He began pulling Highwire up.
Years from that moment, Breakline would not be able to recall whether he saw the rocket coming or not, blinded as he was in that one optic. What he could remember was a screaming sound mixed with Highwire's own cry of surprise and then a huge explosion that nearly sent him hurtling had his foot not caught in the metal supports.
What he could remember was Highwire's optics as the mech fell to his death. The terrible sound of sentinel's weapons engaging. The cold, observing eye of the Hunter. The sound of Highwire impacting as the sentinels converged...
And the terrifying silence that came to follow.
"There's nothing you could have done," the voice soothed, followed by a hand that gently touched his shoulder as it began repairs, "Stuff just happens, ya know? We can't do anything about it."
Liar. It's my fault.
Breakline tried his best to ignore Mercury as the medic patched him up. There were no words that could comfort him in the aftermath of the day's events, no touch that could heal the wounds a doctor could not see. He retreated deeper into himself, closing out the soft sound of Mercury's voice as he babbled on.
All things came to end. Life was a cycle. Birth, renewal, and death. Highwire had been one of the first things Breakline had seen when he came online. There had been that moment as his body surged to life, those first bleary moments as newborn optics adjusted, as shapes began to form and faces appear...Highwire had been the one to his left, speaking excitedly about the newest life brought online. One that had not been shaped by Quintesson hands but by their own.
Birth and renewal. Life and death. One of the last things he had seen before he had blacked out was Highwire as he died at the hands of the Hunter.
You live and you learn.
Nothing, nothing he could do now.
Except fight.
Breakline clenched a fist in a sudden determination and then shook himself as Mercury's voice interrupted his conscious again. He became abruptly aware as the doctor quieted and let his hands drop from Breakline's shoulder. "There we are," Mercury said softly, "Almost as good as new. Just don't get into any heavy battles for awhile and everything'll be fine."
Nothing's "fine."
"All right. Thanks Mercury."
The doctor paused at the door, mouth open slightly as if about to speak. Then he wavered and decided against it. Only faintly acquainted with Highwire, there was nothing he could say to make any sort of lasting mark on Breakline. "I'm sorry about what happened," he said simply, "None of this was your fault," he added as a soft afterthought.
"Of course not."
Mercury then left Breakline to the darkness of the room--to the bleak reality of the day and night and cycle of life, to life and death--and returned to the dim corridors in which he walked like those before him, a healer among many wounded.
But unlike his predecessor, he was not smiling.
He moved like quicksilver between shadows, weaving in and out of the crumbled ruins of the old building as he spied on the group gathered in the back alleyway where a Quintesson guard transmitted orders to the various sentinels and Hunters surrounding it.
Circling around, he brought his weapon to bear as the group dispersed, the drones heading in a straight, perfectly formatted line towards whatever destination had been programmed. Breakline ignored them. He had not come there to futilely destroy a horde of drones. He wanted satisfaction...
Breakline wanted revenge.
He stalked his victim from behind huge metal slabs of fallen buildings, stealthily sidling closer to his target as the Quintesson guard hesitated in its sentry. The alien turned slightly, listening, waiting, watching unknowing as Breakline drew closer.
He ducked quickly behind another slab as the Quintesson turned in his direction when unsettled a few broken stones. Mentally cursing himself, he hunkered low, hoping the alarmed sentry would not recall any of its drones to perform a search of the area. Chances were, he would not be able to escape far enough before they captured them.
Not that it mattered.
A sensation of relief swept through him as the guard relaxed but did not turn away. Breakline did not let it bother him. All he needed was one moment, one instant when the Quintesson dropped its guard and then he would have his chance. Just one second, and in his mind, Breakline had nearly an eternity.
His chance came as the Quintesson turned away to answer a radio transmission. Breakline rushed from his position as it turned away, waiting for the sound of a radio shutting off, and then running up behind the creature, slamming his weapon into the back of its neck, the weak spot where the main body conduit switch joined with the cerebral cord. Temporarily paralyzed, the Quintesson guard fell to the ground with a sound of surprise, its tentacles flailing. Breakline launched himself upon the guard, but was thrown back. His head snapped against the pavement, and he grunted as a tentacle lashed out and struck him painfully, knocking him aside. The weapon flew from his hand, skating away to the other side of the street.
Struggling to stand, Breakline rolled onto his stomach. Reaching for his weapon, only to wrench his hand aside as electricity shot through his form. A cry of pain erupted from his mouth as tendrils of energy snaked across the ground and burned through his frame. Spasms engulfed his body as the Quintesson grew closer.
"Insolent slave," it sneered, "did you really think to overthrow us by yourself?" As Breakline curled into himself, it opened a channel. "This is Quintesson sentry number four-five-two-six, I have a captive in quadrant--"
An ion blast careened through the air, knocking the radio out of its hands. A second blast threw it backwards.
Not allowing it a chance to recover itself, the young Autobot rushed forward and completely severed the link between mind and body while simultaneously smashing its radio transmitter. "Pile of slag," he snarled, getting back on his feet. Slowly regaining his balance, he looked down at his work.
The guard lie stunned, vocal and physical neural paths disconnected. Sightless yellow optics regarded him with cold anger.
From his vantage point, Breakline smiled coldly. "So who's the master now?"
The Quintesson hissed. Breakline ignored him. "You thought you could get away with it," he continued, "You thought you could subjugate an entire race of sentient creatures just for your pleasures." He clenched a fist. "Well no longer! We aren't just mindless creatures any longer!"
Dropping his blaster, Breakline drove a viscous kick into the guard's side. "You killed him, you soulless bastards. Put him down like some sort of animal."
"We got something they don't."
"Yeah," he muttered allowed, "Something they can't touch."
Forcing himself to regain composure, Breakline leaned over. "You killed him," he said softly, "It's your fault, all of you." He quirked his head to the side. "Tell me, how does it feel to no longer be in control?"
The creature glared at him from beneath his heel, enraged but still paralyzed and helpless within his clutches.
"Because you aren't, you know," Breakline continued, "And there will be a day when it will be as if you never were. Just like Highwire promised--like he had hoped to see."
Abruptly, Breakline dropped his gaze and grabbed his gun. "I thought you'd like to know," he said, "that unlike Highwire, nobody's going to save you this time. And none of your drones know you're coming, by the way--I planted a jamming signal nearby."He saw the creature's eyes widen as he brought his weapon to bear.
"One day," he promised, leveling his shot. "One day we'll be free."
He hardly flinched as he pulled the trigger.
"One day..."
"One day..."
Kup sighed wearily, tearing his eyes away from the ruins of Autobot City and towards the youth who echoed words from a time long ago. He nodded wordlessly, understanding.
"One day," Hot Rod repeated quietly, "One day they'll pay for all of this, one day we'll be free of this war..."
Repressing another sigh, Kup returned his gaze to the devastation that had once been his Earth home. So sure are you, lad? he thought sadly.
In the millennia since his creation, Kup had seen the rise of an empire that fell again at the accord of its own hatred. He was no longer Breakline, nor Streetwise, nor Steelguage, nor any other persona that he had taken and discarded over the years, but the situation was no different. They had thrown off Quintesson rule, yet they were still slaves.
Out of the fire and into the holocaust, he thought balefully as he looked over the rubble.
"I should have listened to you."
Drawn from his reverie by Hot Rod's quiet tone, Kup turned. He looked down at the youth with tired inquisition in his eyes.
Hot Rod continued unprompted. "You said it was Prime's battle, not mine. But I interfered anyway, and now..." The young Autobot broke off, choking on his words. "I should have listened to you."
Live and you learn.
Hot Rod turned to face Kup trembling, deep blue optics written with grief, and as he watched, Kup saw himself all those years ago, still as Breakline, watching as Highwire fell. Saw the fear and the terror and the pain.
In a rare display of affection, Kup reached out and wrapped an arm around Hot Rod's shoulders. He felt the young 'bot lean into it wearily, drained of his passion and rebellion, seeking comfort that could not be offered.
Casting one last regretful glance over the ruins of the city, he turned away and walked away, arm still slung around Hot Rod. The child, for the most part, remained quiet.
He saw himself now, leaning over the maw, falling without a sense of ever hitting the ground. Eternally trapped within that moment, that one mistake that had cost everything. And he saw Hot Rod, struggling not to fall, grasping him as tightly as Highwire had been to him all those years ago.
But this time, he promised silently as he hugged Hot Rod closer, this time I won't let go.