Chapter 8 summary: Defeated and taken prisoner by the Autobots, the Stunticons are offered a choice. Takes place during the episode "Masquerade"; nine lines of dialogue towards the end of the chapter are direct quotes from that episode.
8. On Their Knees: Rehabilitation
Breakdown drew back into a corner of the cell, fighting an urge to offline his optics. Bad as it was to have the Autobots staring at him, showing fear in front of them would not only be humiliating, it would enrage Motormaster. It didn't matter that Motormaster was in a cell too. The gestalt bond made him only too aware of whatever his teammates felt.
And at the moment that bond burned with fury and pain and frustration, the Stunticons' emotions as thick as molten metal flowing back and forth between the four cells. Two of the Autobots had hauled Dead End away somewhere else, and Breakdown could only hope it was to their repair bay rather than to an interrogation room. He shivered involuntarily. Dead End was the calmest of them all – albeit because he didn't care about anything – but his apathy tended to anchor the gestalt bond, stabilizing and cooling it down.
Now, though, it felt like having shot brakes and runaway acceleration, except there was nowhere to go. And the fact that they couldn't speak to each other privately made matters worse, concentrating and amplifying their reactions. Breakdown struggled to keep calm; if he became unsettled (in other words, terrified out of his wits), his teammates would feel that too.
"Didn't you even try to fight them?" Motormaster's voice was a low rumble, pitched so that the Stunticons could hear him but the Autobots on guard just outside the cells were unlikely to do so.
Breakdown knew he was being spoken to. Although all the other Stunticons had been damaged – Motormaster and Dead End the worst of all – he'd escaped with relatively little in terms of injury. His paint was blistered, taillights cracked by intense heat and rear bumper half-melted, but that was hardly serious by their standards.
"I – I couldn't." His voice came out in a whisper, his optics still fixed on the Autobots. "I was carrying the laser lenses so I couldn't transform, and then my fuel pump sprung a leak." The next thing he knew, he was on fire. "And my f-forcefield--"
"All our fragging forcefields," Drag Strip said bitterly.
Motormaster's engine sounded like tectonic plates shifting deep beneath the earth and his voice was much the same when he spoke. "I'll deal with whoever's responsible for that when we're back in the base. For now…"
For now we find a way out of here, Breakdown knew. He just had no idea how they would do so with the Autobots still waiting outside. And watching. Watching him. Watching him with knowing optics, flame-blue and sharp, peeling back the layers of his armor and every mental defense he could put up, everything laid bare before them, and there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide--
"Hey, Breakdown!" Wildrider said. "How many panels in your five-star suite?"
Distracted, Breakdown glanced at the walls and floor and ceiling of his cell. "Forty-two," he said after a moment.
Even with a crumpled grille, broken headlights and leaking radiator, Wildrider managed a giggle. "Drag Strip's only got forty."
"I do not!" Drag Strip said irritably, but Breakdown didn't hear the rest; he was still looking over his cell. There was a tiny vent just above him, through which the Autobots could pump corrosive or poisonous gases, though he could see a glint of something reflective just inside it. A camera. He wanted to crawl through the floor.
If he had been able to transform, he might have reached up and disabled the device, but the cell was just large enough for his alt-mode. Transforming was out of the question, which meant he also couldn't pull a weapon out of subspace.
None of them could fire through the bars either. As soon as they had been dragged into the Ark, an Autobot medic had disconnected both their weapons mounts and their radios. Held at gunpoint, there wasn't much the Stunticons had been able to do about that. Breakdown had tried to pull away – the only thing worse than being stared at by Autobots was being touched by them – only to be threatened with either a few shots through his tires or a few Dinobots sitting on him, his choice.
All the components they had taken, following Megatron's orders, had been stolen by the Autobots too. Breakdown would have expected a struggle or at least threats from Motormaster if the Stunticon leader had not been in such bad shape. Dead End was little better. Drag Strip had been knocked offline, much to his disgust, and was all but frothing at the mouth with the realization that he hadn't been able to put so much as a scratch on the Autobots who had captured him.
Even Wildrider's cheerfulness was edging over from "default state of what passed for mind with Wildrider" to "desperate attempt to pretend that imprisonment wasn't having an effect". Breakdown shivered again, and glanced through the energon bars at the Autobots. Still staring at him. Why didn't they stop? Why didn't they just leave him alone? Leave all of them alone?
He imagined plunging through the bars somehow and shooting the Autobots, except that there was no way he could get past charged energon bars. And even if he could, the Autobots still had Dead End somewhere, and might deactivate him in retaliation. Breakdown's engine thrummed in distress and he struggled to clamp down on that instinctive response; this wasn't the time for it.
Wildrider began to fidget. Even stuck in alt-mode he couldn't stay still; he shifted on his tires and inched back and forth in his cell. His engine stopped and started up again in a way that Breakdown knew could not be good for it, and a few of the Autobots glanced at him and then spoke quietly to each other. Breakdown hoped that they would power down the bars to see to Wildrider, but they didn't.
They only switched off the bars over one cell when Dead End was brought back in, moving under his own power but slowly and with an armed Autobot on either side. Breakdown sighed silently with relief as the bars recharged; at least the Autobots had repaired Dead End's roof. That had looked as though a pile-driver had hit it, and if not for Dead End being able to correct his mispronounciation on the way, Breakdown would have been afraid that his spinal struts were damaged too.
"Aw," Wildrider said. "They should've at least installed a sunroof."
Dead End said nothing. The hole in his roof had been welded shut and the broken lubricant lines sealed again, but without matching paint – much less the finesse the Constructicons would have brought to the job – the scarring was evident and ugly. He'd hate anyone looking at him in that condition, let alone Autobots, Breakdown thought.
But they were no longer separated, and the taut ferocity that had raged through the gestalt bond subsided a fraction. Breakdown sagged down on his shocks. Being stared at wasn't as bad as being incomplete, having one of the team taken away from the rest of them.
He felt a cold, core-deep contempt. Motormaster. What idiots the Autobots were, not just repairing them but keeping them held in the same place rather than separating them and using the threat of deactivation to one to keep the others in line. Perhaps they've only got as many brig cells as functional processors, Breakdown thought. A conviction that they would be out of there passed through the bond, though he wasn't sure where it had come from.
We'd better be out soon, he thought. Wildrider's twitching had gotten worse; he was now actually bumping into the back of his cell as he reversed and drove forward. His taillights flicked on and off. Drag Strip tried to distract him, but it didn't work; when Wildrider was in that kind of condition it took a direct order from Motormaster to have any effect on him.
And Motormaster was silent except for the growl of his engine. His tires were burst and his windows shattered, his trailer crumpled and grille bowed inward, but his stillness had the coiled tension of a spring wound too tightly. He didn't react at all until there was a flurry of movement at the other end of the room.
Then the sudden hate that shot through the gestalt bond was like a jolt of boiling acid. Breakdown stiffened, all fear submerged under the dark concentrated depth of Motormaster's loathing as Optimus Prime walked closer, two other Autobots following. The Autobot leader spoke quietly to the 'bots on guard and they moved away. All the Stunticons watched him as he stepped up to the bars.
"Motormaster," he said. There was no response. "If you'll tell us what Megatron is planning to do with these components, we'll provide more repairs for you and your team. And energon as well."
"If you think any of us will sell Megatron out, you're an aftheaded moron who takes it up the tailpipe from humans." Motormaster's voice was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, and the Autobots busy at a console spun around. Most of them looked startled or furious, though Prime's expression was impossible to see behind his faceplate.
Wildrider snickered, and although everyone was now staring in their direction Breakdown felt relieved. Like the rest of his teammates, he hated and feared Motormaster, but he would much rather have had a leader with unshakeable conviction and strength than one who could be swayed by Autobots.
"All right," Prime said, as though Motormaster hadn't spoken. "If you don't want to tell us anything, that's your choice. But we have to keep you here, and it's also your choice as to whether you'll stay here behind bars or otherwise."
"Otherwise?" Motormaster said.
"Yes." Prime took a step closer. "You're free to join us."
Motormaster laughed. The sound was like two slabs of rusted iron scraping together.
"Think about it," Prime said, without any noticeable change in tone. "We wouldn't separate your team or harm you in any way. We could offer you sanctuary from any Decepticons who might attack you for your decision or punish you for what they'll see as your failure."
He means Megatron. Breakdown snarled softly, though the sound was lost under the grating roar of Motormaster's engine.
"You're not to blame for who you are," Prime said when Motormaster's engine subsided to an idle. "Megatron made you like this, but that doesn't mean you can't change."
He's calling us defective mechanisms. Breakdown felt resentful. It didn't matter that he was afraid of being looked at, it didn't matter that Wildrider was crazy or Drag Strip obsessed with winning. That was who they were. No Autobot had the right to imply that there was something wrong with them for being who they were.
"And what d'you want to change us into?" The sneer in Motormaster's voice was evident. "Slag-soft Autobots, like you?"
"I wasn't the one who had to be towed back to the Ark," Prime said.
Breakdown knew in that moment that Prime had blown any chance of ever reaching Motormaster, not that he had had one in the first place. Motormaster would never forget that humiliation being rubbed in his face, especially not in front of the other Stunticons. They could all feel his rage growing like the mushroom cloud of an explosion, and it was all the more frightening because he was silent.
Prime seemed to sense that he had said the wrong thing. "We don't want to harm you," he said. "Only to help you."
"By brainwashing us?"
"If I were brainwashing you, I'd order you reprogrammed to hate the Decepticons. We're giving you a choice between the two factions – but we want you to make an informed choice rather than a fallback to the only one you know. That's why we want to help you see that there's more to it all than Decepticon ideology."
"Lot of hot exhaust. I can say it all in one word. Brainwashing."
"Education and possible rehabilitation." Finally there was an edge to Prime's voice. "Once that's done you'd have your privacy, your freedom of movement--"
"Your fragging foot on the backs of our necks." Motormaster's ruined tires began to turn, pushing him forward. The motion must have been painful, but Breakdown doubted he could feel anything beside fury. "That's what we'll get. And what'll we lose? Our home. Our place in the Decepticon Army. Even our name – we won't be Stunticons any more, we'll be your pets, like you lot are the humans' pets. How stupid are you, Prime?"
His voice was a grinding thunder, and the growl of engines echoed it as he continued to inch closer to Prime. "And trying to turn us against our leader? Against our creator?" The bars sizzled as they burned through grey paint and ate into armor; Motormaster didn't seem to notice. "Just for that, you fragging spawn of a pleasure drone, I'm going to kill you. I'm going to--"
Prime turned and walked away. Even though Breakdown couldn't see much from his position in the upper cell, he knew Motormaster was trembling with rage. Slowly he backed away from the bars. There was a stench of superheated metal and fumes in the air.
Prime and most of the other Autobots left the room; the ones on guard detail settled down at various consoles. For a long time it was quiet.
"Cars behind bars," Wildrider murmured. He began to rock on his tires. "Hell in a cell."
Bad sign, Breakdown knew at once. When Wildrider talked like that, he was starting to slip off the edge. And the Autobots had noticed it too; one of them nudged the other, pointed at Wildrider and shook his head. "All messed up and nowhere to go," he said, and the other Autobot chuckled.
Frag you, Breakdown thought. He made himself look away from them, and glanced at the three Autobots busy on the other side of the room. They've got their backs to us, but it might not be safe to talk. These cells are bugged. They're still watching--
The rumble of an engine from the other end of the room caught his attention, but what made him freeze was the black semi with purple windows that drove past the cells. There was a sudden silence from even Wildrider's cell.
The slag is that? Breakdown thought, though it all became clear when the four sports cars fell into obedient formation behind the semi. The one that looked like Dead End actually laughed as he raced to keep up. Breakdown hoped he would do that when any other 'cons were nearby to hear; that would blow the disguise.
So much for all their talk about treating us well, he thought. The Autobots seemed determined to separate them from the rest of the Decepticons one way or another – if not by brainwashing them, then by impersonating them and trying to make Megatron believe that they were traitors. He could taste the new, sharp loathing that flowed into the gestalt bond as his teammates realized that too, but he also felt that hate honing a fierce determination. No, they're not going to win.
Or at least, we're not going to lose.
"We've got to warn Megatron about them phony Stunticons." Motormaster twisted from side to side, looking around for any weaknesses in his cell.
That's it, Breakdown thought, distract whoever's watching. Most of the Autobots' attention was likely to be on Motormaster rather than on him, even though mechs and humans always stared at him, always. But it wouldn't be for much longer. His engine had revved to near fever pitch while Prime had insulted and threatened them; one silent command later and the vibrations it began to emit were raking and dissonant. He just hoped his teammates would keep talking to cover up the sound.
"But how?" Dead End said, speaking for the first time since he had been dragged in. "We can't use our radios. Our vehicular modes are busted."
Maybe when we're back home we can have a nice long polishing session, Breakdown thought. That gave a little extra edge to the vibrations from under his hood, and his entire chassis shuddered.
"And the energon cells keep us stuck the way we are." Drag Strip lowered his voice, evidently feeling he had to contribute something besides the obvious. "Thrusters still work, though…"
Wildrider giggled. "Hey Breakdown, just 'cause you're scared, you don't have to shake yourself silly!"
Scared? Breakdown could gladly have decked Wildrider if they had been in the same cell (and in root mode). "I'm not! But if I vibrate hard enough maybe I can short out my energon bars." He was used to causing mechanical failures in other engines, but if the vibrations grew strong enough, they might disrupt the flow of electricity that charged the bars.
"Or else you might just give us all systems failure," Dead End said. "Not that I care either way, but I'd rather not die looking like a wreck."
Breakdown hesitated; his engine did affect even his teammates when the vibrations were strongest. He couldn't knock any of them out.
"I'd rather not die at all," Drag Strip said. "Hurry up, Breakdown!"
"Keep going," Motormaster said, and that was enough for Breakdown to continue. A moment later there was a hiss and a fizzle. The hot glow of the bars disappeared. Breakdown released his grip on his brakes and shot forward, drawing on all his strength, every ounce of horsepower from his engine and all the force of the gestalt bond; he had one chance to break those bars, here they came, now!
The impact hurt his grille but the pain was small compared to the surge of triumph that shot through his circuits as the bars cracked and splayed outward. He was out, transforming as he sailed through the air to land on his feet, and freedom had never felt so good.
"As I predicted!" he said happily as the Autobots spun around. He pulled his rifle from subspace.
"Hey, how'd he get out?" one Autobot said, just before Breakdown fired on all three of them. At the weapon's highest setting, their systems malfunctioned instantly and went up in flames. Maybe you ought to… oh, watch prisoners a little more closely and then you'd know, he thought as he turned to face the cells.
"Everybody out on bad behavior!"
Taipan Kiryu : I like Prowl too. I'd like to have him in more fics, though he's been done in so very many stories already that I'm not quite sure where to begin.
As for Silverbolt's idea… well, it doesn't quite work out as he hopes it will. Let's just say that the title of the next chapter isn't too much of an exaggeration…
Yuki Hikari : Sure, you can find those episodes on YouTube. Though I watched them again recently and was surprised at how little airtime and dialogue the Stunticons got. They're complex enough (and so entertaining) in fanon that I forget how thinly sketched they were in the cartoon.
Motormaster should make an appearance later, but I'm not sure if he has interactions with humans or not. I get the impression that he doesn't notice humans any more than we notice ants.
