"What do you mean he's gone?!" Prowl's doorwings flared dramatically.
"He's gone, Prowl, there ain't much else Ah can say. He left th' protection ah the City." Jazz said.
"We'll why didn't you go after him?"
"Because Prime caught meh and didn't let meh go!"
"Maybe if you'd explained the situation!"
"What help would thata done? Rodimus woulda either not paid any attention ata' or he woulda gotten all the Autobots ta help search fer 'im. Neither's gonna help Blue."
"Well what do you propose we do?" Prowl sat back in the wheelchair, massaging his nasal ridge with two fingers.
Jazz gestured to Wheeljack, who hadn't spoken at all since the saboteur had entered. "Ah figured he could track Blue usin' their bond. You and Ah can't do that easily since we're his adopted creatas."
Prowl glanced at the engineer, "Well?" He prompted.
"In theory, yes, ya could potentially track yer bonded with the bond itself.. But.."
"But what?" Prowl snapped, doorwings quivering as they hiked even higher.
Wheeljack looked away, "I closed my part ah the bond weeks ago."
"Well open it again!" The tactician insisted.
"Prowler, just calm th' frag down." Jazz admonished, then turned to Wheeljack, "Now, 'Jack, Ah know yer hurtin'. I respect that. But Blue's hurtin' as well. We really need ya ta go get 'im. Befer he hurts 'imself even worse."
Wheeljack shuttered his optics and vented a deep breath, "Okay."
He retreated into himself and tentatively, carefully, reopened himself to Bluestreak. The immediate rush of emotion hit him like a battering ram. Pain- physical and emotional, was the first to circulate through the newly opened bond. Next came a twinge of anger mixed with a thick layer of bitterness and regret. Covering it all was a veil of sluggishness, surrounding the other emotions like a smog. It made Wheeljack feel like he was treading through heavy mud. Using eons of bonded experience, he waded through the swamped bond and scanned through Bluestreak's most recent memories, catching a brief glimpse of a Seeker. No, more than one. Six of them.
He withdrew to see both Jazz and Prowl staring at him expectantly.
"Well?" Prowl asked.
Wheeljack hesitated briefly before answering, "He's unconscious, or maybe rechargin', but most likely unconscious since he's been captured by Decepticons."
The identical expressions of shock on Prowl and Jazz's faceplates would've been funny if the situation wasn't so dire.
Prowl's shock quickly dissolved into rage.
"We have to get him out of there!" He hissed, "Before he gets killed."
Jazz snapped his fingers, "Ah have a plan."
0o0o0o0
"Ugh..." Bluestreak groaned, waiting for his systems to reboot before he could online his optics. He shifted, trying to get into a better position- why couldn't he move his arms? -but fiery pain blossomed in his chestplates and an unknown servo shoved him roughly back into his original position.
"I think he's awake." The owner of the servo had a low, gruff voice.
"No frag, Cyclonus!" A high, whiny voice joined in.
"What does Lord Galvatron need with an Autobot anyway?" Cyclonus grumbled.
"Soundblaster needs a guinea pigatron to test his new mind and spark control program on." The high-voiced mech sounded like he was smirking.
Bluestreak tensed, a sudden jolt of fear coursing through his circuitry. Mind control?!
"He just moved."
"Good. That means he's definitely awake." Something was jabbed into Bluestreak's side, delivering a sharp bolt of electricity.
That forced Bluestreak fully online. He onlined his optics as his chassis arched involuntarily from the charges, mouth gaping in a silent cry of pain.
Starscream snickered, drawing the electric rod away, "If he wasn't awake, he is now."
Bluestreak attempted to move, to get the frag out of there, but his pedes and arms were strapped down to a wide slab. He was splayed out with his doorwings pinned painfully beneath him, sending agonizing tingles throughout his entire chassis. Bluestreak squirmed to try and relieve the pressure on them.
Starscream watched him, an amused look occupying his faceplates. "Comfortable? No? Don't worry. Soundblaster will be along any klik now to begin the procedure."
"Starscream!" A harsh voice snapped.
The Seeker immediately balked, wings fluttering.
"No fraternizing with the prisoner! Did you not notice that Cyclonus is the guard? And not you?" Galvatron continued, striding into the room.
"But-"
"Get! Out!"Galvatron roared, lashing out. Starscream went flying out of the room.
"The Autobot is awake, my lord." Cyclonus bowed deeply.
"Good." Galvatron smiled. Bluestreak shuddered faintly. That wasn't the type of smile that a bot used when he wanted to be your friend. Oh no. This was the type of smile that Bluestreak imagined a snake would smile at a mouse, right before it struck and devoured the small Earth creature.
"Autobot Bluestreak." Galvatron purred, the smile never leaving his faceplates, "The Decepticon cause will benefit from your noble sacrifice."
"Go frag yourself!" Bluestreak spat, anger making the best of him. He strained against his bonds, "I'm never going to sacrifice Islag/I for you!"
"You don't have a choice." The purple warlord replied, sounding amused. He stepped aside, "Soundblaster, you may begin."
0o0o0o0
It was agony. I. Want. To. Die. Bluestreak thought as Soundblaster pried apart his inner processor.
"Please! Please! Kill me! Just kill me!" He screamed through the tears.
"Not yet, young Autoscum. Lord Galvatron has far greater plans for you than simply death." Cyclonus had his servos clamped around Bluestreak's midsection, digging his claws deep into the circuitry, tearing apart the energon lines in order to keep the gunner still.
Parts of Bluestreak's outer and inner helm plating lay on a table next to his slab. Wires from his processor, dripping with fluids, hung limp from the slab the Datsun was trapped on. And the energon. The energon was everywhere. It coated Soundblaster's arms and Cyclonus's servos. Steady rivulets of the luminescent pink substance dripped from myriads of wounds, inflicted while trying to force Bluestreak into submission. It collected in pools under him, around him, and on the floor to be stepped in. Dried energon was crusted on his chassis.
Bluestreak's optics were wide with absolute and utter terror, and his vocalizers were laced with static as his cries became softer and less desperate.
"How I love to hear an Autobot scream." Galvatron said from the doorway. He strode in, suddenly all business. "What is your progress, Soundblaster?"
"Status: Almost complete. Rebuilding of Autobot's processor to begin soon." Soundblaster replied.
"Make sure you finish by the time I return." Galvatron ordered.
"As you command. Inquiry: Where are you going?"
"To pick up a guest." Smiling his predatory smile, the warlord stepped out.
