Title: Origins 4 - Roles

Author: Kit SummerIsle

Rating: T

Continuity: G1-ish AU, pre-Earth

Warnings: mentioning of abuse, slash (not detailed)

Summary: Each bot in the Autobot army has his story of how he became what he is. Some stories are secrets from most, some even from the mechs themselves.


Roles


Mediocre

Sunspear was thoroughly average. He was in the middle of the batch to be sparked, to be upgraded and he remained there, in that middling position after their abilities and knowledge was tested and evaluated. He was assigned in the middle of the wing with better and worse fliers around him in equal numbers. He never did anything unexpected, be it a prank, an insubordination or an outstanding effort and consequently he was never punished and never praised either, unless together with others for a collective effort. He was there to fill the ranks, to strengthen the wing and to provide numbers in an attack.

His nature was unassuming too. He never complained about the unexpected night-cycle trainings, the endless formation practices, the disciplinary events when the whole wing had to stand unmoving in the central square for joors while one mech was being punished in front of them to watch. He never wanted more than his ration in energon, never made shady deals with unscrupulous grounders who promised illegal high-grade to the eager jets but swindled them until they had neither credits nor their desired drug. Nor did he crave for more than he was given or were frustrated by his meager standing in the wing. He accepted it as the way things were and would probably be forever.

He was so thoroughly average that it was not a small miracle that the base Vice-Commander, a big gunformer by the designation of Gunlock had taken notice of him in one orn as they stood at attention before the commanding officers. The Seekers were just ordered to leave the place and they made a half-turn in rows and marched off the square, back to their barracks. When it was his row's time, Sunspear turned and went with them in his place without anything strange happening. It was just the setting sun that cast its mellow rays on them and lit up his saving grace, the golden yellow stripe on his wings, the reason for his designation, even more outstanding with the mass of dull, matte black paint-jobs as background.

Seekers are generally considered beautiful by most grounders and Gunlock was no exception from that rule. Only… these batch Seekers were so dull, so scorned, so looking the same en masse, that he never before put them into the same category as the real fighting jets, like the ones in the Elite Trine. He saw those Seekers only a few times, mostly in battles from afar, but afterwards he often self-stimulated himself to fantasies of a certain tricoloured Seeker in unmistakable positions. But this was the first time he contemplated a batch Seeker's form that indubitably was almost the same as his daydream's and acknowledged that despite of the dirty black paint, that golden stripe did look enticing on the quivering wings - wings that often starred in his more lewd dreams.

He checked the flier's designation on the roster and reviewed Sunspear's records, contemplating what he could do and whether he really wanted to get into it. By the end of his shift, he came to a decision and ordered the obviously surprised and apprehensive Seeker to his office. When he arrived and stood stiffly at attention in the room he never been before, Gunlock slowly circled around the still frame, noticed the nervous shaking of the wings that again showed off the golden stripe nicely, even though it obviously wasn't his intention. A lowly grunt should indeed be afraid of punishment when ordered to his commander's office without preambles.

"Do you know why you are here, Seeker?"

Sunspear racked his memory banks, desperately trying to find the infraction he might have committed that would lead him to be here – but he found nothing and finally he had to admit it to the Vice-Commander.

"I-I'm sorry Commander, but I-I don't know! B-but I did nothing, I swear!"

Gunlock almost laughed at the desperate trying of the young flier to extricate himself from the situation he had no hand in creating. He wasn't even trying to be intimidating, but the Seeker was already as malleable as soft wax.

"Don't worry, you are not in trouble. I have an offer for you."

"A-an offer, Sir?" – those wide, red optics looked good too, especially when they were properly submissive, peering upwards to his larger frame.

"Yes. I need a new aide. You look capable and have… hmm, other qualities for the task."

Sunspear tried to make sense of that latter half of the sentence. He had qualities? That was news for the young flier who so far only excelled at being totally nondescript. Then the first half of the utterance caught in his processor and he was afraid and elated at the same time, spiced up with a bit of worry as well. To be an aide to the SIC was so far above his present rank – or rather the lack of any – that he could hardly believe it possible. But the Commander looked at him almost benignly and he heard him well… so it must be true.

"I-I'm honored Commander that you considered me!" – belatedly he remembered that such an offer must come with a price; nothing in the Decepticon army came for free, especially not advantageous promotions. Being an aide would mean increased rations, less training, plenty of opportunities and better quarters – as well as better standings in the social order too for which a batch Seeker usually had next to no chance. He didn't have to wait long for the demands part either, as Gunlock favored him with a lustful smile and answered.

"I do have some expectations though if I were to choose you, Sunspear. I need a personal companion as well as a professional aide." – he was serious now and wanted the flier to understand that it really was his choice. Gunlock was neither meaner nor more forgiving than an average Decepticon officer, but he was definitely not into rape. His partners were all indulging him of their own free will and any dominance or submission roleplays were also voluntarily given. – "You are free to refuse this part and no consequences will fall to you other than being ineligible for the job."

Sunspear could think of only one thing the Vice-Commander would ask of him thus in return for the position and mean the asking with no consequences. It wasn't that any of them had anything else to give really; no credits, no influence, no means to do covert jobs for anyone, they had one thing grounders wanted: wings in their berths. Wings meant sensuality, lusciousness and a general proficiency in interfacing matters, at least according to grounder beliefs and fantasies. Sunspear himself has never tried that part of his existence, albeit he's heard some of his wingmates had been experimenting in that field and found it highly enjoyable. The only thing they all lacked was a suitable private space, as understandably none of them was willing to do that in the common barracks, in front of dozens of watching optics.

He wasn't as naïve to think that the Vice Commander wanted him for any kind of a softer emotion or feeling; not even mentioning of love to any degree. He never really expected that he would feel that towards anyone or have the feeling directed to him either – those emotions were actually frowned upon in the Decepticon army. They were considering a… common agreement, a deal with mutual benefits. He'd get the increased rank with all the attendant amenities, while the Commander would have a dedicated aide who wouldn't betray him and a compliant concubine to sate his lust. Sunspear didn't have any misguided beliefs that even in a consensual relationship, he wouldn't be required to be submissive, compliant, as befitting to his station in life. But then… he could live with that too.

The Vice-Commander moved closer to the unmoving, apparently thinking Seeker, deliberately moving into his personal space, with one servo ghosting one wing that slightly fluttered at the proximity. He was willing to give the Seeker all the time and freedom he needed to decide, but he'd do his best to bend that decision to his favour. He couldn't help being bigger than the flier, but standing to his side he would not appear threatening but still visible. He was happy when, in a short while flier's wings lowered in position and fluttered strongly as he lifted his optics to Gunlock's face; the purple mech couldn't read wing language, but this one had an clearly visible meaning, one soon affirmed by Sunspear's hesitant voice.

"I would be willing to serve you in all capacity, Commander…"

"Excellent! I'll notify your wing commander of the change and by next orn you'll be able to move in the quarters next to mine. Report to me here at first shift."

"U-understand. Thank you Sir!" – so he had one night cycle to acquire at least rudimentary knowledge of what was likely to be required of him… in a berth. The office, he wasn't worried about; he would learn that part soon.


Favourite

"You are a damn lucky glitch." – it was the most often repeated sentence in the Seekers' barrack that orn, closely followed by a - "Why you anyway?" – but generally, the Seekers, while envious were glad to hear that one of them got promoted to an officer's aide and unofficially to his berth too. The number of advice he got was almost overwhelming, from the simplest 'follow his lead' till the lewdest suggestions that made many of the blush, but Sunspear took it all in stead. He also borrowed and bought with promises of repaying later some nicer wax and polish and carefully applied them to his frame, touching up the dull, scratched paint as much as he could. Never in his entire function he cared this much about his appearance than this time; that he'd get no second chance was clear to him like the night sky.

The next day cycle's first shift found him nervously waiting at the Vice-Commander's office-door; having no clearance yet he couldn't get in yet. But Gunlock was most helpful with him, showing him around, getting him clearance, explaining him the tasks that he must perform; mainly bureaucratic work, the menial parts of the SIC's workload, beside caring for his energon, washing and waxing, schedule and anything Gunlock wanted to get done and dared to delegate. Sunspear was privately glad that his mediocre abilities were quite enough to do all of these tasks; he so didn't want to disappoint Gunlock on his first orn – or ever.

But the end of the shift came all too soon and Sunspear was getting more nervous than he was about the office job; all orn long Gunlock was absentmindedly stroking his wings, touching minutely from time to time and generally staying in the flier's personal space. He was testing the waters, so to speak, getting a feel for the younger mech's field and reactions to his closeness, his resolve to stand by his word. He didn't have to be disappointed either; Sunspear was certainly nervous, so much so that Gunlock suspected him to still have his seals – and he looked forward to dealing with that very much – but he was determined and as his nervousness lessened he was giving proper, honest reactions. Especially the wings, as the gunformer had hoped.

Following the Vice-Commander to his quarters, Sunspear tried to focus on what he should do first without asked; but when they got there his hesitant plans flew out of his mind at once. Fortunately Gunlock knew it better than expect anything adventurous from him; even the stuttered statement about never having done it before, he just waved away unconcerned, even promising it to be as painless as it could be. He was dominant all right, but never demanding and surprisingly patient with the younger mech; he planned to keep the little Seeker for a long time and wanted to lay down some solid, trusting foundation between them. The seals were eventually broken, the gunformer had more than his fill of writhing Seeker wings, mouth and valve; and although Sunspear did feel himself sore in various places for some orns to come, he got satisfaction – and a few overloads as well – out of the experience.

All in all, he concluded a few orns later, it wasn't bad as payments went; Sunspear knew that he was fortunate with Gunlock being somewhat compassionate and reciprocating and he couldn't complain interfacing being either a chore or painful, humiliating. He mostly enjoyed it, as he was told was natural to Seekers, and when it was less than stellar for him, it still has never gone as far as to be called awful. Since it was in his nature and early training reinforced him to be obedient and uncomplaining, the submissive role was natural to him; and Gunlock never pushed him so far as to find it uncomfortable or humiliating.

On the other servo, Sunspear truly enjoyed his tasks in the office and the opportunities that it gave to him. He was a natural in the boring, repetitive, menial office-work that Gunlock hated and therefore he did them meticulously – the datapads and reports were in a better order than ever since he took care of them. He was also highly interested in the occasional strategic or tactical plans that the SIC had to prepare or evaluate and Gunlock saw no reason not to involve him in that either. In the office he could also get hold of numerous datapads with various topics that he enjoyed poring over; in a little while he discovered that reading gave him a deep enjoyment that was almost as good as interfacing. He never expressed that thought aloud of course.

In time, he drifted away from the other Seekers, as he rarely got back to the barracks and they never came to the officers' part of the base. He never had friends among them, only some wingmates he sometimes talked with, but even those were not close by any stretch of the word. Since the officers hasn't let him in on their circles, Sunspear was usually alone, especially when Gunlock was ordered away or had tasks that were above his clearance. Those times, he read. He came to love reading and learning and hardly ever missed the actual training or real flying; in time, even his superior noted how atypical Seeker he became, not wanting to get out to fly all the time, like the rest of them. But he felt comfortable this way.

In a course of nearly a vorn, Sunspear grew accustomed to his roles, even indispensable in the office, and when he noticed Gunlock's interest fading somewhat, he managed to spice it up with some carefully chosen kinks. The gunformer was more than a bit surprised by his initiative – even after so much time that was his weakest point – but eager to try the more extreme methods with Sunspear. They were of course far less to his liking, but he was careful to keep them in the acceptable range. He didn't want to lose his position in the office, even when it required some less than comfortable acts in the berth. Or in the quarters anyway. But he did wonder how long he could keep up the Commander's interest, even with daring to do more and more.


Prisoner

Sunspear knew that something was going on and he anticipated it involving him too soon. The base was under an inspection and evaluation, all manners of irregularities and half-illegal activities were discovered; and as consequence, the punishments were following each other in a long procession, while the brig was full of mechs from every echelon of the base personnel. He was told by Gunlock to keep to his quarters as much as he could and not to call any attention to himself; and since he was actually good at being nondescript, he managed to avoid attention all the way. But still, when the inspection was over, he felt that something has changed. The Vice-Commander was more distant, required his presence and work less and less; until at the end of one orn he was ordered to his superior's quarters and Sunspear knew that whatever it was he'd know soon enough.

"Sunspear, it was strongly suggested to me to order you back to the ranks. According to High Command I should not keep a Seeker from the battlefield." – Gunlock actually looked a bit contrite. He new that Sunspear, thanks to his former sponsorship had no training whatsoever in battles, hardly ever fought and as such he'd have a particularly hard time in the ranks and actual battles again.

"I-I understand Sir…" – Sunspear knew the same things, coupled with the derision a seemingly demoted soldier would get from everyone. But he could do very little against it and at this time, neither could Gunlock. – "Sir… maybe… could you approve my transfer to another unit if I applied…?"

"I can do that. If you want to." – yes, a fresh start might be better than go back to his former wingmates in shame.

"Thank you Sir… for everything."

Gunlock nodded. – "I shall miss you… in the office I mean! Your work was exemplary and I shall note that in your file." – he could safely praise the Seeker for the work he did. It wasn't an emotion, he wouldn't have to be ashamed of it. The rest… well, he got used to the Seeker being around. It was impossible that he felt anything more towards him. That's it, he convinced himself. Only habit and nothing else. Still, he could give the Seeker what he wanted…

Now, it wasn't that often that the Vice-Commander brought up an occasional Autobot prisoner for them to play with – after all, interrogation was not his duty and if they damaged it too much there would be repercussions later - but Sunspear liked it nonetheless. It wasn't often that he got to be dominant, in fact lately it was almost never; and he much preferred bondage on someone else instead of him. It was hard on his wings. This time, he suspected that it happened as a last present for him, to sweeten the bitter energon of being demoted.

Gunlock really should have chosen a different prisoner though; the Autobot saboteur, Jazz was a dangerous one, even after being put through the wringer in interrogation and had two bigger Decepticons play bondage games on him for half the night cycle. At the end as usual, Gunlock left Sunspear to clean up the mess they made and that was the biggest mistake of all; while Jazz had no hope of overpowering the significantly bigger and stronger gunformer, he had more than a slight chance of doing it with the smaller, lone flier who obviously was no fighter and no specialist in handling prisoners either.

Shortly after turning his attention from the apparently bound prisoner, Sunspear froze in mid-step as he felt a small vibro-blade piercing his neck, dangerously close to the main nerve-relays that, if damaged would leave him totally crippled. The smaller saboteur was clinging to his back, holding onto a wing with a strong grip that was as much a threat as a desperate grasp to hold himself up. He was leaking energon and other fluids on his frame too, Sunspear felt and for a split nanoklik his conscience awakened in him towards the injured mech. But it went away quickly as Jazz ordered him in a shaking voice, rough with pain, to take him to a place in the compound that he's never seen before but which contained a well-hidden, small door that led into an underground tunnel.

He almost refused to go into it, but the dagger was strong and unyielding on his neck, even as the mech's frame shook with pain and exertion. Fortunately it was a short way and on the surface again Sunspear found himself outside the base under the night sky of Cybertron. He fully expected then to be deactivated, since he now knew the way in and out that the Autobot spies used; but Jazz had other plans with him, as he would have been unable to go far under his own power. Ordering the surprisingly obedient Seeker to transform, he quickly moved onto his back again, still holding the blade to a vulnerable point and ordered him to fly them to Iacon. If he was correct, the flier should know nearly everything that went through the Vice-Commander's office – a valuable catch, even besides being his way out.

Sunspear had resigned then to be an Autobot prisoner probably for the rest of his life unless they deactivated him; that noone would exchange him or he wouldn't be able to escape on his own, he was almost completely sure. Nor did he expect any mercy from the Autobot currently on his back; they weren't exactly kind to him and in his place Sunspear knew that even he would be murderously angry and wanting revenge. But he wasn't the kind to rebel against his fate and so he took the new developments with the same resignation and fatalism that characterized him lately. It was so useless to try and change fate.

Interrogation was everything he imagined it to be, even though the mech, who captured him like the amateur that he was, didn't seem to go for revenge, only information. Sunspear told him everything, answered every question truthfully. He wasn't a hero, he was just a secretary, a clerk, a noncombatant, as much as a Seeker could ever be such. He didn't even want to see what this dangerous mech could do if he didn't comply. Wrung out of secrets, hacked half out of his processor, he soon stopped thinking about the future. He hardly cared when he was transported to another facility, where mechs looked at him like he was so much spare parts.


Wishes

"He doesn't need a lot of rebuilding frame-wise."

"Have to be careful with the mental reformat then. Every part he keeps makes the possibility of retaining memories higher."

"Right. I'll set the program to flush his secondary nerve-relays' coding as well."

"That's a good idea."

"You know, I'm disgusted by his memories… how typical for the Cons to demand interfacing for promotion."

"I know what you mean… awful."

"I'll never understand them."

As they worked on him, while the powerful AI started to delete his former self, Sunspear dreamt on - while he could. He dreamt of a world with no hard decisions, no bad or worse choices, no demands on him that he couldn't fulfill. He never wanted to be anything else but a simple flier, an average soldier or even a civilian who never gets noticed and let to be a simple part of the whole. He could do that, he could fulfill that role. Just to be a cog in the greater order of things. Not a fulcrum, never a hero or a tragic victim. Let him have his datapads and he'd happily do the rest of his tasks uncomplaining. In peacetime he would have made an excellent librarian, clerk or archivist – too bad he got sparked in a war, where those weren't in any demand.

Surprisingly enough, Skydive got his wish almost perfectly.


Note: once again, I want to stress that although I call them young, the other Seekers and Sunspear too are adults and that his compliance and relationship to Gunlock is completely consensual.