Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers characters, robots, environments etc, etc. Any OC, robot or location not recognisable is mine.
Rating and Warning: M for abuse, torture, violence, gore. Sadism. OOCness through the roof, OCs here and there, beware. Warning may expand in the future.
A/N: RnR, and have fun somewhere in the middle.
…- Azure Droplets, Crimson Optics -…
A true doctor is an unsympathetic sadist creative in his torture.
"It won't take long." The medic is softly purring, engine rumbling in excitement at the new victim on the berth before him. The flyer is draped over the platform, lying on his front. Turning him on his back will prove near impossible with the immense damage done there. A long, perfectly white finger is stabbing at a joint of the wing, poking through a burn mark and stabbing the burnt wires underneath, coating it with black flecks and energon. It is taking a great deal of self control, but Starscream remains silent. His cooling vents are working over time, have been actually ever since he had been shoved into the leader of the Autobots. His working optic remains fixated on a particular stain on the ground. He simply refuses to acknowledge the Prime standing in front of him, hand absently trailing along his bruised and dented neck cables, petting him like a concerned lover.
The low rumble of a powerful engine cuts any thought the flyer was currently having short. The large mech stares down at the figure on the berth, optics unreadable as always. The mask conceals any further emotion, the whole persona illegible. "I can beat out any dents in under a day, and I have a fresh batch of spare parts coming in lest I need those." The seeker suppresses a shudder, knowing exactly what the doctor means by the spare parts. How many Decepticons have been captured alive or were taken in dead is a question in itself. Though a bot doesn't need to be permanently off lined to donate. "Which I'm sure I will in the near future." The sing song voice of the medic is filled with an insatiable glee that has the flyer's tanks curl and roll with nausea. The confirming click of the other mech is not helping the seeker calm.
The scrape of metal lifting from metal causes a flare of heat to run through the flyer's chassis. His spark is pulsating with anticipation. The Hatchet has a dreadful reputation. One of the many Autobots Starscream has never encountered in battle, and never wanted to if he recalls. He knows the stories passed from soldier to soldier, and they are no where near telling of sunshine and kittens.
Prime doesn't send his men to the dimly lit med bay to get them all patched up. He sends them there for punishment.
The two Autobots cover the details of the seeker's injuries, from his shattered optic to the half torn wing. From the large slab of missing armour on his hip to his busted thrusters heel. From what Starscream gathers, it will be many procedures that can be done in one go. It will be quicker then the flyer initially thought, thanks to the aforementioned spare parts. There is no telling just how many cabling needs rewiring, how much armour needs replacement.
"Put him under. Struggling will slow things down."
"I can simply strap him down."
The following silence is a final statement. It appears Optimus needs only look at his medic to get his point across. "Another time it is." The butcher… medic… sounds disappointed. Still he does what told, not about to provoke the wrath of his lord.
The soft petting on the back of his neck ceases slowly, the large hand moving over the seeker's face. Starscream winches when the thumb crosses the brittle glass of his optic, cracking it further with every inch it moves. For a moment he feels as if the other mech will just plunge the thumb into the socket and rip out what is left of the eye wholly. The thought causes the seeker to stir again. On instant the hand moves to the back of his neck again, fingers digging into the wiring and cutting vital lines with a brute strength Starscream hasn't seen in a long time. He bites back a cry, stifling it to a pathetic whimper when the hand presses down hard, denting cables, creating more injuries for the doctor to treat. "Calm yourself pretty one." The rumble is a repeat from earlier, soft and inviting, but a tone is hidden beneath the thick layers of calm. The Prime is a talented actor, hiding a monster behind his mask.
Starscream is not looking forward to meeting it.
For now, there is nothing left for him to do but sleep, a blissful silence. The doctor stays true to his lord when he sedates his patient. Reluctant in doing so, but ever the more with care. Starscream barely feels the thick syringe as it stabs through a vital line in his lower back. It takes a small bit of time, but as the kliks tick by the seeker feels the pain inside of him lessen. The painful burn in his back and wing cools down, the agonizing throb in his cranium slows and decreases, the flare in his legs losing its feeling all together. With a stuttering breath from cracked vents he relaxes on the table, ready to welcome a disturbing slumber. Somewhere along the way, the overlord has made himself scarce, but Starscream couldn't care less for him.
A hand wrapping around a loose cable released from his torn back slams him from that gentle cloud and straight back into reality. His vents hitch, his wing twitches with alarm.
The doctor begins softly singing to himself, examining the torn wing at intense proximity. Starscream can't see him work, but he can feel what he is doing.
Which cannot be right.
Ratchet moves into his line of sight, collecting a few clean tools and items scattered around his domain. At one point the medic tenses, listening to his comm. link and probably discussing for his patient. With a sudden motion he snaps around at the table the seeker occupies. Starscream would have been startled, but the strength in his body has left him. A pair of freezing white hands curl around the seeker's face, lifting it none too gently. Furious ruby optics meet the flyer's own shattered one, their gaze shifting over every little crack and splinter. The doctor's lip twitches into an empty smile before he begins brushing at broken optical glasses, removing splinters and shards. It doesn't hurt due to the sedation, but the feeling has the seeker's tank make a one-eighty where he lies. He nearly freaks out when two white fingers bury themselves in to the mostly empty socket of his eye, their tips capturing the end of a snapped cable and pulling. He feels and hears the snap of the small cable coming loose, feels and hears it split from the circuit boards it is attached to, feels and hears it come loose as the butcher pulls it free.
A fresh stream of energon begins leaking from the mostly empty hole, dripping over the flyer's face in crooked lines and dripping onto the already energon littered table. Ratchet carelessly releases the string before concentrating on his link again, answering several silent questions before he continues collecting the materials and tools he needs for the patient's wing.
If Starscream could he would be hyperventilating, but his body remains in a state of slumber whilst he remains conscious. He tries to calm himself down, in a pathetic attempt to remain sane, failing while the doctor begins on his wing.
There is no physical pain as the medic makes surprising quick work. But every pull, every snap, every push against every cable, every little touch is painful reality. It leaves the seeker helpless even as Ratchet begins digging into a cut with a laser knife and pries it open with strong fingers. Muscle strings and cable filaments part with an almost flesh like ripping kind of sound, the tear increasing and more warm energon streaming down onto the table. The cracking and breaking and snapping can be heard and felt perfectly, and there is nothing the seeker can do. Not even beg the mech to stop this, to put him under or to relieve the sedation all together so Starscream can at least hear himself scream instead of the sharp sounds and feelings. All the while the medic softly sings to himself, a song the seeker doesn't know. "Long ass fucking time ago, in a town called Kickapoo." A wrench falls onto the iron ground with a deafening clatter, pausing the doctor for just a blink. "There lived a humble family, religious through and through."
Hours pass, the medic making quick work. The song he sings, the same damn song leaves his vocals over and over and over. By now Starscream knows every line and could sing along if he whished. But in the back of his mind he is thankful for the doctor's seemingly subconscious chanting. It proves to be slightly distracting from prodding fingers and tools disappearing deep beneath his armour. The sounds are more difficult to banish.
The flyer's wing and back are restored without the usage of spare parts. Starscream is thankful for this, not knowing how the Autobots will harvest any spare appendages. When his back is restored the medic turns him over onto his back. It puts the seeker in an awkward position, momentarily bewildering him. A flyer rarely spends time on their back, due to the heavy mount and broad wings. His CPU struggles getting him back in position, causing the room to spin around him even though he himself isn't moving. "You become a mindless puppet, Beëlzebub will pull the strings." The medic begins working on his left leg, once again reaching in and removing snapped lines, scraping blackened pieces away. He is already covered in energon and burn mark residue but seems uncaring. "Your heart will lose direction, and chaos it will bring." Though Starscream can name a million places he would rather be then right here, he is impressed with how quick the doctor seems to do his work. If Ratchet weren't a sadistic bastard, he could restore and save many, many lives.
"Rock is not the Devil's work it's magical and rad."
The song lasts about four minutes and ten seconds, give of take a few kliks. The butcher begins to sound like a broken CD player, repeating the song, repeating the words in the same tone, the same speed, the same thing over and over. Such repetition is surely not coming from a sane and healthy CPU.
"In the city of fallen angels, where the ocean meets the sand. You will form a strong alliance, and the world's most awesome band. To find your fame and fortune, through the Valley you must walk…"
The lock upon the doors is released and the heavy metal slides apart, allowing entrance to three pairs of legs. Starscream can't move to see them come in. "Where do you want 'im?" A struggle begins as two guards, bots the flyer doesn't know, begin dragging a prisoner to the berth next to him. The fellow seeker is clicking and chirping, his throat devastated, only allowing him to communicate in seeker speak, but nothing else. Starscream can feel his spark break at the other flyer's pleading, begging the two other Autobots to do to him what they want, but release his carrying mate stuck in the dungeon.
Ratchet quickly has enough of the seeker's chanting. He is next to the strapped down flyer in a flash, wide grin splitting his faceplates as he brings his hands up to the defenceless mech's throat. The first crack and tear that come to hearing cause the new victim to cry in agony, the second crack and tear cutting the sound abruptly. The stranger's lips still move frantically, but only a soft whirring and stuttering gasps escape his vocals now.
"Prime said this one's yours when you're finished with the other flyer."
"Fun…"
"Don't make Prime wait." Jazz's tone is direct, sounding from the door. Ratchet replies with a smooth promise of quick recovery, an answer that pleases the saboteur it seems.
Starscream feels for the other flyer.
The two nameless Autobots leave without another word, allowing the medic to get back to his work as fast as possible. Ratchet remains at the other flyer's side, studying his face. His optics, to be precise. "Perfect…" The doctor softly murmurs to himself, collecting a few specific tools.
And then he begins singing again. "Long ass fucking time ago, in a town called Kickapoo." His voice is softer this time as he works, allowing him to hear every single sound his second patient is making. Starscream feels himself grow cold, his vents stuttering in horror and down right fear. The other prisoner is trying to struggle against the bonds that have him trapped to the table, trying to get away from the butcher working on the mech's face. His lips are parted in a constant silent scream, the static released from his throat filled with fear and agony.
The bright blue seeker finally falls still when Ratchet steps away, his hands dripping with energon. In one hand, the medic holds seven different tools, all ready to be used again. In his other hand, the Autobot holds the flyer's right optic. If Starscream hadn't been sedated, he would have purged. It is quite common some bots give up parts or sometimes whole limbs to one another, but this is taking the crown. The transfer is always done under complete sedation due to the immense pain and trauma it can cause to have something simply severed from your body. This often happened when someone important was damaged, it not uncommon a soldier would give up hands or optics or anything else to a medic who could fix many more injured if needed. Or a high ranked officer giving parts to an engineer, who could create new parts in a quick motion.
"In the city of fallen angels…" Starscream can only endure the doctor's fussing with his head as he installs the new optic, though it is less disturbing feeling then when the medic was working to remove remnants. The seeker feels empathy for the other flyer, who has once again resorted to silent pleading. More so for his mate in the Autobot dungeon. What their enemy will do to him, to his unborn sparkling is a mystery. Starscream doesn't want to know.
More time passes as Ratchet finishes with his patient, the other flyer completely forgotten it seems. Somewhere along the way Starscream fades into recharge. He can't tell how long he is out, his chronometer not replaced like he had hoped. He didn't even know he was out until the moment he came back online to a cleaned med bay.
And a mostly empty med bay.
There is… nothing wrong with the seeker. His CPU gives no warnings, no hiccups, no abnormalities.
Dread fills the flyer's spark again, fear for a great deal of things on a list that keeps expanding with every waking moment he spends in this hellhole. He has been treated like a prince, received repairs ordered by a powerful, influential mech that has had his optics on the seeker for much longer then Starscream wants to admit. But all of that is not a reality here. He knows the stories that came from prisoners that did manage to escape, knows of the nightmares that are as real as fact itself. Kill yourself. Crosses his CPU and is the most sensible idea he has had yet.
He pushes himself into a sitting position, back protesting because he has been lying in a difficult position for too long. But nothing else. He is not even bound. Two freshly restored blue optics glide to the right, landing upon the other recharging form. Aside from missing an optic and probably a great deal of his sanity, the other flyer seems right. Starscream lowers his gaze to himself to inspect. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is missing, or added, should he believe those stories of the Autobot Hatchet.
For someone with such a disastrous reputation, Ratchet has treated him well.
With a soft sigh through clean vents the seeker gently hops off the berth, careful not to make a sound. He doesn't know where the medic is or how he will react to the flyer up and about around his lab. There is a limp caused by a fresh weld deep inside of his right leg, once more causing a surprise just how good he was fixed. The trapped figure on the other berth begins to stir online. Starscream is next to him in a few more steps, one of his hands subconsciously moving up towards a wing to gently stroke it. The static that emits from the other's throat is softer then it used to be, his self repair system probably trying to fix the damage. Other then his throat the blue seeker seems fine, just a few dents and scratches, not as bad as most prisoners that are brought in.
A single optic rolls upward, the blue light flickering with recognition and relaxation. Starscream doesn't know this mech, but it might not be like that the other way around.
He had known a lot of different bots long ago, but all of them were lost during the war. Blessed by Primus with a quick processor and creators who could afford it, Starscream found himself attending the Science Academy at a young age. He made friends left and right, many of them interested in such a smart nerd with the design of a fighter jet. The first few years had been wonderful, until everything started to go downhill. The Autobot faction, back then led by a mech called Sentinel Prime, was growing power hungry.
The Crystal City had been one of the first cities they took, though violence had been spared. With the city, the Science Academy. Though everything seemed to be on the softening side, had Starscream known he would be providing the enemy faction with a new target to obsess over, he would have left the academy the moment he was given the chance.
A shrug, followed by more silence as the Decepticon Second softly strokes the wing of the other flyer to assure him, to calm him. Starscream had been so…
…stupid. For the lack of a better word.
Optimus Prime is a talented actor. Always has been, even back then. Or the feelings were very real, which would be even more disturbing. Then the feelings would still be very, very real. It is something he will find out soon enough probably.
Most likely.
Starscream had been working with gamma radiation caught from a distant sun to see if he could turn it into a clean energy source. Energon has always been a problem, but great effort is always made to find newer, cleaner, more productive sources of energy. His work was no secret, and had long before drawn the attention of the Autobots.
Orion Pax, was his name at the time, before the red and black mech was crowned Prime.
A mech that made a young Starscream fidget with nerves. He had been… overwhelmed by charisma and personality, not a trace of arrogance in Orion's words. And clever, he was very clever. He was no scientist, the seeker could tell, but did capture the idea of anything Starscream would explain to him. Charming too… Orion had been so charming. They spoke of science the first few times Orion came by. Though an Autobot, the mech was well respected due to his interest in science, his awareness of the importance of several projects. Orion would visit on random days, seemingly doing it off schedule but Starscream still isn't sure if that was the case.
All he knows is that he began to look forward to those visits.
So did Orion.
The visits became considerably more frequent, and not all of them were for the progress Starscream, or anyone in the academy, was making. The seeker didn't care. Though he took great care for his project, it didn't seem all that important when the mech would come by. They would talk, about a lot of things, important or not. On the last visit Orion made they had kissed, and Orion was good at even that. It had been slightly awkward, Starscream had never kissed another before. When it ended, too soon he had been left hungry for more, wanting much, much more from the larger mech. The other had been hungry long before that kiss, but had passed starvation at the intimate act they committed. There had been madness shining in those bright red optics back then but Starscream refused to acknowledge it. He simply refused to see the instability. The flyer blames it on a stupid crush caused by too many hormones afflicting a mech making the transfer from youngling to adult. But he was in love, so there are a lot of things to blame. And Orion was… is still… probably…
…well. There is a reason why Starscream is all patched up right now and not tortured to death, a fate more befitting the Decepticon SiC and Air Commander. Orion… well… Optimus…will want him back soon.
Sentinel Prime had been very busy at the time, speaking politics left and threats right, too busy to watch his own back. Orion took him down and became the Autobot leader Optimus Prime not long after. Cities began to burn. The war began. Caused by a group of Autobots desiring calamity.
Starscream only spoke to Orion… Optimus… one more time after the beginning of the war. And the mech had simply terrified the seeker. Promises of a Valhalla, of a kingdom for them to rule. Thousands had been killed, and millions more would follow the Prime promised him. Starscream would rule the galaxy alongside his mate, they would become Gods. Strange how only cycles before Starscream would have given anything to hear that mech utter a proposal like that. The seeker had envisioned himself growing happily bonded with the Autobot, had seen them have sparklings, a family.
The seeker had rejected the ridiculous proposal immediately. He didn't want a war, didn't want to rule like a tyrant. The flyer lived for science, and although he did fall in love with the Autobot, that mistake quickly sorted itself out when the monster behind the face mask showed its teeth.
Starscream's family was murdered two cycles later.
Crystal City itself was torched to ashes.
The death toll ran into the millions.
And Starscream had a newfound stalker in his life.
They did not speak person to person until long after that. A time Starscream is not fond of remembering.
The doors open once more, two Autobots stepping in. Without a word the seeker turns to them, albeit reluctant to leave the other mech on the table. "See? Fine." Ratchet seems awfully pleased with himself, for once actually doing his job as a medic can be very rewarding. The other black and white bot, Jazz again, is staring at the seeker with wild interest. "We're leaving. Prime is waiting." If you like him so much why don't you bond with him? The seeker keeps to himself, knowing full well such a comment will bring him straight into the Hatchet's arms again.
Not that being shoved into the arms of the Prime is something he looks forward too.
Jazz is a blur of movement, stepping up to the seeker in a klik. With a rough pull the Autobot begins dragging the seeker along. Before they leave the room Starscream turns once more, spotting Ratchet standing near his new victim with a hacksaw in hand and a sick grin on his face. "Long ass fucking time ago, in a town called Kickapoo…"
Again, he feels for the flyer strapped to the berth.
The maze of corridors twists and turns at points that seem unorthodox. They ascent a stairwell Starscream does not remember being here, but it could be blamed on his muddled CPU. Another corridor when they reach the top, twisting to an immediate right. The entire stronghold consists of metal and stone, an impenetrable fortress build by an army of slaves. That is one of the many regrets weighing down on the flyer's spark. At a certain point in the war all of Cybertron fell, its inhabitants forced to scatter and flee. Megatron had led a small army of civilians and Decepticons to this little planet. Earth… had welcomed them in a way. The small creatures, humans, had been in high exalts to meet aliens. It had been a wonderful experience, to meet a species that made use of space travel as well, however short their trips may be. At one point Soundwave had opted that it may have been signals from Earth they had been picking up on their home planet, a signal the humans send out to find alien contact as intelligent as they. The signal must have travelled for many years.
As warm as any welcome to a foreign planet may have been, more pain it brought when the Prime landed as well one year later, having gathered his forces and over running the planet in a matter of weeks. Millions of humans were killed during the struggles, many, many more enslaved. The Decepticons had done what they could to help, to fight against Prime and his vast army. But for every Decepticon, there were a hundred Autobots. Now, seven years after the Autobots have landed on Earth, their numbers having tripled, if not more. And the Decepticons dwindle to near extinct because of the last attack of the Autobots.
Someone screams far away, the shrill cry echoing through the otherwise empty hallways of the stronghold. It sounds like something from a horror movie. Terror and pain were called out, but Jazz seems unfazed as he drags the seeker into a room, mostly empty save for the most basic of furniture. The Autobot comes to a full stop in the middle of the room, not releasing the seeker in his grip. "You'll stay here…" The Autobot nods to himself, scanning the room slowly. "For now." The grip on his arm loosens and Starscream makes haste to put distance between himself and the Sub-Commander.
Jazz has yet to finish scanning, so the Decepticon does the same. A berth, a desk with a chair, a table with two more chairs on two sides and a pad case filled to the brim with datapads. There is a steel ornament in the corner of the room close to Starscream, but that is the only thing that could make this room even remotely homely. There is another door on the opposite wall of the door they entered through, probably to a washing room.
"…for preparations…" The Autobot mumbles to himself, as if to confirm it. What could he mean by that? "Your behaviour is good. Aims to keep it that way." The advice doesn't sound like an order. It seems well meant. "Prime will be pleased." And that is what the strangely loyal soldier is aiming for.
His back turned to the otherwise unarmed seeker, is a mistake that will engrain itself into the saboteur's CPU. The loud clank of metal upon metal seems to vibrate through the small room, followed by a startled grunt and painful clattering of a body hitting the mostly stone floor. Jazz isn't out with one blow, the flyer knows this much. So he strikes again, with as much force as he possesses. The steel ornament had dented during the first impact, now gives way completely and breaks in two. It is discarded to the floor, landing near the now struggling Autobot. Starscream doesn't wait for him to get up and sets it to a moving.
He doesn't get far when he slams into probably the last bot he'd want to run in to. A strong arm wraps around his lower back to keep him in place, but it isn't necessary. Starscream is near petrified with shock.
"I will fragging murder you…" The hissing mech is recovering quickly, hurling up energon and his neck is bent in an unnatural way. Prime is probably the only reason why the smaller mech has yet to make due to his promise. The Autobot leader is rumbling with dismay, noting the injuries on his loyal soldier. "This will not go unpunished." The soft pledge is laden with a gentleness that makes the flyer's energon run cold for the umpteenth time this day. Jazz has fallen silent, even his shaking lessens severely.
"It's not that bad…" He murmurs. To that, Optimus actually laughs. "I will deal with it." A solid promise, soft but laced with venom. Starscream hasn't heard this brooding tone in a very long time.
The small Autobot salutes his leader, gives a curt nod before making his leave. This time, the door is locked behind the Prime, leaving him and the flyer alone.
"Well darling." The purr is foreboding, as is the hand reaching for the flyer's chin. It lifts the seeker's head up as the Autobot lord leans a little closer, tracing his hand to the back of the seeker's helm with a gentleness that could not possibly come from the same hands that mangled sparklings just for fun, brought torment and death just for the thrill of giving it. Starscream brings his hands up to push against the larger mech's chest, talons scratching the glass of the lord's windshield glass. Optimus doesn't budge an inch. "Now that I have you at last…" Blue optics try to venture anywhere but the Autobot's face. Not succeeding.
"I will never let you go again."
-TBC
Song: Kickapoo by Tenacious D