Thank you to my beta, Litahatchee, and if you have yet to check out her work, I greatly recommend it.

Warning: some swearing and sexual implications will occur in this chapter.

Chapter 21: Opening Up

Bumblebee felt what could only be called floating, her optics barely online as she stared at her swinging arm.

Hook was carrying her out of the medical bay in a bridal-like carry. She was unrestrained, as she could do nothing more than cycle air. Her spark was sending pleasurable flares through her entire body with each slightest shift or movement.

'It hadn't been so bad,' her body kept telling her, despite the fact that her mind was screaming just how wrong it was, that she should be sick with herself.

Hook had overloaded her during his examination. It had been a wave of pleasure, devouring every node, so much so that she actually arched upward, her spark chamber's glass pressing into the mech's prying hands. He didn't even have to press very hard to get that to happen; he hadn't even been very invasive about it.

Hook was merely poking around her abdomen, muttering to himself about supplies he would need and impure metals when he suddenly pulled his hands out of her innards, huffing at his nearly seared hands. He said that her heat was almost melting the delicate wiring in his hands and that there was no need to waste a good Heat. Then, with professional grace, he merely reached his two hands downward into her chest. She had expected it to be harsh or hard, but he merely cupped her spark chamber as well as he could and rubbed his thumbs softly against the glass, his other fingers reaching for the back of the spark chamber. Bumblebee had wanted to cry out against it, but her systems were farther along than it seemed and she overloaded a few moments later.

Now that she was overloaded, her body seemingly pleased with just being limp, Hook was taking her elsewhere, most likely done with his examination. Feeling the haze starting to disperse like leaves sinking below a lake's surface, she tried to speak but only a soft moan escaped her slowed systems.

"Hmm," said Hook as he suddenly stopped, the smaller femme's hanging arm swaying slightly.

"Awake so soon? I was hoping that your first overload would keep you out for the rest of the day. Usually, especially for someone with as taxed a system as you, an overload would keep you out for at least a cycle, but no matter. I got all the work done I needed to. Surprisingly, I didn't have to do as much work on you as I thought."

A small hiccup sound escaped her as she tried to shift, the fog slowly clearing and fear replacing the pleasured imagery.

"In fact, despite having to make some small repairs to where Starscream undoubtedly tried to gut you, you seem healthy enough to bare sparklings. Which I think is for the best. Your systems cannot take much more of the Heat's punishment," he stated simply, paying no mind to Barricade, whom merely eyed Bumblebee for a moment as the two went pasted.

Hook, nonetheless, gave him a look, stating simply with a gaze that the smaller mech couldn't have her yet, not that he thought Barricade would be rearing for a place in line like most of the mechs were on base. The Saleen was a strangely nonsexual being, always had been… except for maybe with Blackout. There was no doubt in the medic's mind that those two had had a fling and might have even loved each other, as much as a Decepticon can love that is; not that he was judging or, for that matter, cared.

The femme suddenly jerked, nearly causing the medic and her to crash to the floor as he was pulled from his thoughts of the mech now behind them. Luckily, Hook's wide feet saved the two of them.

Not even glancing at her, he stated calmly as he tightened his grip, "Now, no need for that. There's no reason to be afraid of what is to come. The overload Starscream will give you will be a thousand times more… pleasant. That is, if you don't struggle too much."

She tried to squirm in response, nearly yipping when one of his hands clamped down against her shoulder like a vise, causing her to clinch her dentals, "Slagger, I'd rather die."

Barricade twitched at the femme's echoing words as he watched after the two forms, Hook's large mass blocking off most of the femme from sight. He was most likely taking her back to the cells, not for much needed rest or anything like that but because Starscream was, in the simplest of words, vain. He probably wept when he had to change into his human-jet form. So, being as self-centered as he was, it would probably take nearly half a day for the slagger to decide what form to wear for his evening date.

And that was more than enough time for Barricade to do what he needed to do...

Slowly, Barricade placed his hand over the compartment where he had once harbored Frenzy. It hurt to think of the small mech. It hurt more than anyone could know, like losing a child. He had even wept.

Straightening his spinal supports before anyone saw his moment of weakness caused by such thoughts, Barricade started to walk towards a shadowed hallway. Earch fell on his shoulders as he passed under one swinging light fixture to another, the shadows eating him in between until he finally stepped into the next shadow and never came out again.

XXX

The battle, for the most part, had calmed, but there were still stragglers and, being on the outer line, Hound felt obligated to make sure they never returned.

The Autobot grunted as he did some quick field repairs on his shoulder, the tree he was under offering shade and protection. It was an admiral quality of the foliage here. It was built not to only support the strong and large, but the stealthy, the fast, and the cunning. It also helped that Hound blended in well with the world, unlike his enemies who were bright and vibrant, or large and noisy…

…Which easily explained the Decepticon that was just afew yards from his foot, head smashed in from a sneak attack when Hound swung down from the tree he was presently perched under. It was quick, it was messy, and it was completely animalistic.

Many people figured Hound to be a calm and almost childish mech who fumbled and bumbled about with strange obsessions, like a favorite chair. Truth being, when in his element, he acted like one of the more violent animals he observed on Earth, ripping mechs up as if he had plans to eat them… which, he did have to cannibalize parts once in a while.

The victor gets the spoils of survival.

Finishing up his repairs with a soft grunt, Hound was about to stand up and head to the base. It seemed that the battle had slowed and he wanted to rally with the rest of his team and assess the damage. There had to be a reason for the Decepticon's retreat… and Hound feared the worst. What could have happened? Had they acquired X-bot or had Bumblebee gotten off planet as she had planned? Though, he could try to be a little less negative about this. Perhaps, Primus had smiled on them and their reinforcements had appeared sooner than calculated. Either way, he had to get moving.

Revving his engine, the tracker started to run forward out of the cover of the foliage, ready to transform midair and race to their base. Yet, as he leapt like a puma from its perch on a tree, a sudden lurch of black dodged out of the cover of a nearby hill and suddenly the green mech found himself rolling with another body. He didn't see who had jumped him, but the flash of red optics told him it wasn't friendly, so he was already punching before the two of them rolled to a stop.

The other mech was unfortunately able to get the upper hand, though, and Hound soon found himself slapped down onto the hard earth. The mech in question was now mounted on Hound's waist and had the Autobot's arms pinned down.

The jeep wasn't much for swearing, but he figured that this was an opportune moment for it. "Fraggen, slaggen, whore-mother-fucken Con! Get off me!"

Barricade merely roared at the other, coolant dripping down onto the Autobot's face, making Hound turn his head in disgust. The black mech remained there for a moment as well, blue fluid dripping onto the dirty-mouthed Autobot.

Baring his dentals for a moment more, the enforcer slowly sat up and shook his head, "Such a dirty mouth. I should rub your face in the mud until its cleaner than it is, but I need your vocal processor in functioning order."

Hound grimaced, trying to ignore the nasty coolant that was dripping down his face, "I ain't talking 'Con. You're going to have to kill me."

The tracker found his wrists nearly crushed in reparation, the green mech almost crying out though he did not utter a sound. His trembling fans were all Barricade needed to hear to know that he was successful in his disciplinary action. Of course, he didn't think he couldn't subdue the Autobot, since he could crush mechs half his size with his arms. He had upgraded hydraulics in each shoulder, which was why the mech never carried large guns or arsenal like his brethren. He simply didn't need to. He had unrivaled strength, though he wasn't so ignorant as to take on someone like the Prime; didn't mean he was afraid of the lumbering mech.

Leaning in close again, Barricade's words were dark and clinging like tar, "Typical, sentimental Autobot. Always want to go the hard way. Now listen carefully… What is your Prime's comm. signal? Not… your Autobot signal. Not… your medic's signal, because if you don't tell me you'll surely need it... Optimus Prime's! I need to speak with him."

Hound lay there a moment, a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face. Then, slowly, his optics started to brighten. Why would a 'Con want Prime's number? Thinking of it on human terms, it might be kind of funny, though he doubted the slagger wanted to ask for a date.

Was it a trap, then? He didn't see Soundwave around, though if the mech were here, giving out the Prime's communication signal could prove disastrous. It could be used to track Optimus in order to take him out when he was vulnerable, or if the rumors were true, he could try to hack into the semi's very mind.

Revving his engine, Hound growled, "I ain't gonna let you hurt our Prime. Now you eat dirt!"

Barricade was only allowed a confused expression before he suddenly felt Hound's waist moving upward and a pair of knees slamming into his back with such force that he was forced to flip over the Autobot altogether, landing on his back with a choke of his engine. Despite his instincts to move, he had to online and then offline his optics to realize what had just happened. He hadn't just been dooped by an Auto-moron… had he?

The green mech suddenly wandered into his line of vision –the sky specifically- and grinned down at him before he pulled a fist back and stated all so cockily, "They always forget about the knees. Now, I'll let you talk to Optimus Prime… personally."

Barricade knew he was about to get punched in the face and then promptly taken as a prisoner. Though this was rather degrading as one of Megatron's apparent elites, what really got to the mech was the thought that he'd have to have one or more optics replaced so soon again. He really hadn't liked Starscream being so intimately close, so why would he want the enemy's medic so near?

"Nighty-night."

Slaggers … all of them.

XXX

He had been right. He had been fraggen right…

The Autobot slagger did break one of his optics. In fact, he had broken two, and Barricade was rather positive that there were a few branches in his back from being dragged to the Autobot base. Nonetheless, Barricade sat there, almost innocently if one decided to ignore the energon cuffs around his wrists and the energon dripping down his face. His legs were draped lazily over the edge of the berth. He wasn't growling, biting or even hissing.

His guard, Ironhide, found it far too suspicious. Maybe Hound had hit him harder than anyone thought and now the mech had some chips loose or something. Either way, Ironhide didn't like this situation at all and would have liked to have been beating information out of him, or at least be breathing menacingly down the 'Con's neck, but Ratchet thought otherwise.

"Get out of my line of sight, Ratch. I need to keep an optic on the slagger," growled Ironhide from his perch on a berth, one of his cannons half dismantled as the medic worked on repairing the damage Prowl had accidentally inflicted earlier.

Ratchet gave him a dry glare and continued to stand in the larger mech's line of sight as he welded some fine wiring, mumbling as smoke rose up, "There are nearly half a dozen Autobots in a forty yard vicinity. Even if he does try something, he's not going anywhere."

"He don't have to," hissed the mech as Ratchet slowly started placing on sheets of metal, the inner workings finally repaired to the cannon. "He's probably going to grab X-bot and threaten to hurt her-im! HIM! Slagger."

Ratchet shook his head at the small femme that was currently on the floor, recalling earlier when she came in and first stared up at Barricade with wide optics, a stuffed octopus in her arms. The medic had nearly crashed then.

The black and white tactician had put the femme to bed when Barricade was dragged in, bloodied and unconscious. Then she had been put to bed again two times more. The thing was, she didn't stay there.

Somehow, she repeatedly escaped, not only the room with its locked door, but she had also managed to get up to the door controls and open the med bay. She would then just stare at the black trooper as if she had met him before. After her third escape and re-entry back into the med bay, Ratchet decided to just let her sit nearby.

It was disturbing that she was so skilled to even get in and even more disturbing when Barricade didn't lash out at her during the femme's appearance; he didn't even seem to note her existence. The 'Con only looked up once to stare at her and then he looked away, his hands rising slightly to the place where he kept that pain in the aft cassette. Ratchet made a mental note to see if the malicious mech had a broken bond. It wasn't unheard of but sometimes, unknowingly,a mech would form a bond with his symbiot or cassette, and then would die a slow terrible death when the little creature offlined.

Decepticons didn't usually form bonds. If a 'Con did, he kept it to himself or risked being killed. Bonding was considered an Autobot sentiment.

Yet, despite Barricade's almost docile actions towards the femme, Prowl had gone into battle mode immediately when he noticed X-bot had come into the room the first time. He tried to rip off Barricade's head when the Con looked at her. The medic knew –expected- the tactician's emotions to be unpredictable from his usual nature, but that was completely unexpected. It had the type of air to it that a creator would possess when he thought his youngling was in danger.

Perhaps leaving X-bot with Prowl for the past day or so had not been wise, especially with such an unstable spark. Connections might form where they weren't supposed to, such as a Caretaker/youngling bond. True, the little femme would need one since she had no creator to care for her, but Prowl certainly didn't need the extra stress right now.

Hound had told them that Barricade had wanted Prime's communication signal to apparently speak to him. Barricade refused to converse with anyone but the Prime. Ratchet finally sent the tactician out with Sideswipe to retrieve Prime. Sideswipe had finally clamed down, knowing that panicking wasn't going to get his brother back.

If all Barricade wanted to do was speak with Optimus, then Ratchet could arrange that. This whole situation would probably go easily and take remarkably less time for him to confess what he wanted instead of ripping it out of him… and then performing repairs. Ratchet wanted to ignore that all together.

Though, Ratchet now had an inkling about the black mech.

Their kind was small in numbers and, since Barricade seemed willing to communicate, that was always the first step in reformation. It didn't happen often, but there were a few Cons, as the vorns drew on, who realized that Megatron wasn't going to keep all his promises. The Prime might, though.

Thus, with a small hope of reformation, Ratchet felt obligated to repair him. If Prime could talk to him, convince him, maybe they could get the Decepticon on their side. It would help in their defense, as Barricade was indeed a cunning mech, and it might also aid in finding Bumblebee.

Barricade was a great tracker, perhaps even more cunning than Hound. Ratchet was hoping for the best.

Slamming the control panel shut to Ironhide's cannon, he gave the weapons specialist the look that stated, 'Don't do it again, though I know you will' and waved the mech off.

"Get out of my med bay, rust bucket. Go back to monitoring duty and see if you can get back ahold of those idiots and see if they found Prime yet, and also try to contact our reinforcements. If the Cons showed up early, maybe ours did as well," the medic said as he waved off the black mech.

Ratchet then slowly turned towards the berth the Decepticon was on… and the little femme who was now on the edge of the berth, scooting nearer to said Decepticon. She suddenly stopped, little optics staring up at Ratchet as if she had just got her hand caught in the cookie jar.

Ratchet's lights actually came on in shock, his spark nearly freezing, Ironhide's cannon transforming behind him. She had gotten far enough that she was just a few yards from crawling up to the slagger and getting grabbed, energon cuffs could only do so much. He didn't trust the Decepticon, despite the positive thoughts he was trying to have about the situation. Barricade was still Barricade; the Con wasn't just going to turn over a new leaf unless he felt he had no other options.

However, as Barricade turned his head from looking at the scooting femme to Ratchet, it became apparent by his expression that he was just as confused about the situation. At least Ratchet thought that expression was confusion… It was hard to tell with a mech that had such harsh features. It was a wonder as to what he looked like before the war. Autobots had added very little to their new designs except for thickened armor and weaponry. Cons had made their appearances harsh to be intimidating on the field.

Barricade had probably been a very good looking mech once with those wide shoulders and elegant door wings.

Shaking his head as worry dripped away, Ratchet grumbled as he came forward to pluck the little femme up, "She seems to have a soft spot for mechs in uniform. She loves napping with Prowl so, perhaps, she thinks you're going to spoil her just as rotten. In fact, I think he was the one to give her that fuzzy imitation of a cephalopod mollusk."

He'd be lying if he said he didn't notice the way Barricade's metallic lips twitched upward, trying to keep off a grin though slightly failing.

"So… you told Hound that you wanted to talk to Prime. Is that true? Because if it was about the little femme, because I know you know, you would have already made a grab for her," stated the chartreuse medic as he walked over to the Topkick.

Ratchet placed the squirming little mass into large, black hands, which immediately cupped around the little femme, who squeaked with much disproval. Ironhide quickly pulled her closer into his chest, throwing a look over the medic's shoulder at the Con.

-What are you doing, Hatchet? Prowl said that he'd interrogate the slagger after he got back with Prime- Ironhide sent over the communication link.

Ratchet gave the Topkick a slight nudge towards the door as he picked up a wrench off the berth Ironhide had been perched on, stating over the comm, –You'd be surprised what mechs will confess while under the knife. Even Cons get nervous around pointy objects.-

Ironhide rolled his optics and headed for the door, grumbling over the line before it went dead, -Are you sure that it isn't more you that they're afraid of and not the pointy objects?-

Ratchet was very close to throwing the wrench, but resisted. He'd just bump up the slagger's next rust check. He knew the mech hated those. Throwing his enraged air out of his vents, he turned his full attention onto the black mech. Barricade's lip component twitched almost immediately when he felt Ratchet's full attention fall on him.

"Don't you touch me, you slaggen medic. I can do my own repairs," stated Barricade, already knowing the look.

"And I'm sure that you can… when your hands are free, which they are not at the moment," added the medic as he headed for some nearby cabinets, opening the one that he knew had spare optics in it.

Ratchet tried not to chuckle too nefariously, as only blue optics glared up at him. The irony was that it seemed that Barricade was already conforming, if he wanted to or not.

Picking up the tools he needed, he walked over to the berth and placed the optics next to the mech, allowing him to see what color he was soon to be displaying.

Barricade actually jerked away violently, and almost fell off the berth, when Ratchet reached up a hand to touch him, yelling, "Slaggen no! You are not putting those damn things in my sockets!"

Ratchet pulled back slightly, eyeing the reluctant patient. He wasn't afraid of the stout Con; he was just seeing what he could get out of this situation… and to call off the dogs. Wheeljack, who had been quietly attending to Hound's wounds, had stepped away from the rising jeep, hand still transformed into a welder and running hot. They were taking the Con's actions as threating.

The Medical Officer waved him down, stating he could take care of himself. Then, adding some additional pain deadener to his arm supply, he turned back to the mech, stating, "Well, I'll have you know, Con, that if I consider you unfit… there will be no talking to Prime."

Barricade actually looked aghast but said nothing. He just glowered on his berth, hating that the medic gave him a smug smile.

"Good, now sit still…"

Yet, despite the warning, Barricade couldn't stop himself; he pulled away with a growl as Ratchet laid a hand on the mech's shoulder. He didn't care if the healer was merely just getting a closer look; the medic was still far too close to his CPU. He doubted the Autobot was a mind reader like Soundwave was, but medics had a surprising quality of tearing things out of you, be it a few lines of code from a simple scan or by simple paint scraps you thought indefinable. He might have been willing to give one secret away today, but that didn't mean he was going to give them all away.

"Stop twitching, slagger. I'm not going to puncture your cerebral casing just by looking at you, and it isn't going to hurt either. Your medics might expect you to be a masochist, but I'm going to deaden the pain receptors before I push in the new lens," mumbled the medic as he leaned in closer once more, invading Barricade's personal space.

"I don't need a deadener and I don't trust you with a needle that close to my … ugh!"

The Con drew away with a snarl, bringing up his two restrained hands so that one could touch the side of his neck and rub his neck cable. It hadn't hurt, per say, but it had been a surprise. He didn't even see the medic's hand transform or pull out the medical needle from his sub compartment. Slagger was fast… really fast. He'd hate to know what would happen if the healer wanted to kill him. It would be so easy for a being that fast and that knowledgeable.

"So… you really want to talk to Prime, don't you?" Ratchet said as he placed pressure on the mech's shoulder, telling him to lie down so that he could pick out the glass.

Barricade reluctantly complied and allowed the medic to place his back on the cold metal. He did not like being this vulnerable, but if the medic was going to kill him… he would have done it already. He was curious and Barricade, despite how much his instinct told him to draw away, would throw the snoop a line if it got him what he needed today.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," stated the black mech, his hands becoming fists as he refused the need to shiver when Ratchet leaned over him, small extraction tool in hand.

Ratchet frowned immediately, stating, "This optic was recently replaced… harshly. The metal is still showing burn lines. No wonder you're so twitchy."

A grunt was all the reply the medic got as he started to pull out pieces, a clinking noise echoing in their audios as he placed each piece of glinting red, energon covered glass into a collection tray. The healer allowed a few moments of silence before he spoke again.

"You never answered my question," stated the medic as he increased the power to his optic, getting a closer magnified look to make sure there were no shards left behind.

Barricade grunted and then sighed, wishing he could place his hands up onto his chassis to remind himself why he was doing this. He'd always hated the 'Bots, but there were some things that were older than his obligations to the Decepticons.

Sucking up his pride and vows to Megatron, a mech who was deader than dead anyway, his vocals softly replied, "Why else would I be here taking your personal form of torture?"

Ratchet chuckled, realizing that he had heard that same line from more than Cons. The most curious thing, however, was that he was positive that the Decepticon had not lied to him.

"What's so funny?" growled the mech, trying not to wince as he watched the tweezers-like tool disappear.

Well, that was fast. Now came the fun part. At least it wouldn't hurt as slaggen much as it did when Screamer put the lens in. Though, Barricade was quite sure that these lenses wouldn't last as long as the last ones. He'd be plucking these slaggers out by hand, being blue and all.

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that line," added the medic, taking up one of the blue optics and heating it. Barricade tried not to wince when the torch flickered off. "So, since you are under my personal torture, how about I badger you for some information?"

"Starscream doesn't favor me as anything more than a babysitter; I have nothing of true value," stated the black mech, wishing he could dig his claws into the berth when the surge of pain he knew was coming happened. He offlined his optic sensors completely, awaiting the jarring sting far too close to his memory core.

There was a sting alright, quickly followed by another one, but the pain was not as jolting as he was expecting, which was surprising enough. He then felt the medic place a cold fabric over his optics, cooling the glass without cracking it and soothing the throb that would still come by putting a heavy pressure over the stressed metal.

He was a little unsettled by how easy it was, but mostly by the lengths Ratchet was taking to make it painless as possible. The touching was almost too much to bear, but he held still, waiting for the pressure to be removed and for the medic to okay him so he could be thrown into a cell.

Though, as the medic released the cooling rag and made Barricade sit up so he could check and see if the optics had been popped in correctly, the 'Con jumped as he heard a voice that echoed in his audios: "What do you mean by 'babysitter?'"

Onlining his optics before the medic even gave him the okay to do so, Barricade faced the mech that made him jump in shock. Every servo tensed. How had a mech his size snuck into this room without making a sound? However, it wasn't the mech's silence that bothered 'Cade…

He had never been this close to the Prime without the mech trying to kill him. Barricade's instincts told him to flee. There was no way he could battle Prime and survive.

So, it was easy to say, he wasn't so sure about talking to the Prime now. The idea had been sound at first, but now that he had the opportunity, Barricade didn't feel so confident on the idea of talking to the lumbering giant. However, feeling a soft pang in the chamber that used to be Frenzy's, he found his vocalizer and the courage he needed.

"What I mean by that is that I found something you may or may not have noticed is missing, and that I have no plans on being Screamer's babysitter."

XXX

...A placid black, like a dragging fog that went on forever, no suffering to be beheld.

It was a captured moment in time, that clinging fog that was birthed and murdered every day when the sun rose. It was an easily broken thing, thin ice that separates still waters from the raging blizzard above. But, the wind just kept pounding, taunting the thin, frozen glass of ice, until cracks were formed, the cold reality of the world seeping through in increasing amounts until…

Bumblebee finally onlined her optics.

She blinked, offlining and then onlining her optics again. It was not the cold pressing its way into her senses along with a howling wind, but a blur of bright yellow pounding on metal. She reset her optics again, feeling the last side effects of her slumber fade into wakefulness. Was that Sunstreaker?

"What's with that grin, Screamer! How long are you going to stand there and mock me? Because when I get out of here, those new wings you're sporting will soon be missing! You can't keep me in here!" yelled the yellow form of Sunstreaker in the neighboring cell, his fists slamming into the bars once more so that the flier would know that just because he was caged, it didn't mean he had no fight left in him.

Bumblebee, who had yet to sit up from her recharge, continued to lie there a moment as her systems rebooted. Where was she again? And what was Sunstreaker doing here? Who was he yelling at? She knew she knew, but there was still a fuzziness around her spark that she couldn't chase away.

"I have no plans to keep you here much longer. You are just collateral, and once you have fulfilled your usefulness I shall dispose of you," stated the flier with a malicious grin as he continued to lean against the stone wall across from the sunshine warrior, dust and granite falling onto his shoulders.

"Collateral, for what? No one uses me, Screamer. I'll rip you to pieces before you try to use me as a pawn," yelled the yellow mech as he stilled in his ramming against the cell bars, his form shivering off dirt as his engine panted. At first, the bars had looked rather feeble to the furious Autobot, but the panting of his stressed engine stated otherwise.

"We'll see about that," stated the Decepticon with his mocking smile, though his grin quickly ended and became one of lustrous happiness.

With a parting nod, Starscream slowly sauntered away from the banter with the yellow mech and towards his people's future.

"You seem more relaxed, my dear; Hook has always been good with his hands… in more ways than one," stated the current Decepticon leader as he leaned forward, one hand gripping onto the bar and slowly sliding up and down in a very suggestive display. "Though, it's not a permanent fix."

Bumblebee sat up and growled as best as her vocalizer would allow. The flier just smiled and pumped his fist a little faster, laughing in this throat at how such a simple human display would set her off.

"Now, don't be that way. You know this can be done the easy way or the hard way," he stated, turning a slightly mocking gaze towards the sunshine mech, who was now just standing there, his optics shifting from Bumblebee and then to the new warlord.

"What's he talking about, 'Bee? Are you going to snitch? Don't do it! Remember your honor and vow as an Autobot. We never leave our own behind; Prime will come for us," Sunstreaker declared confidently, his optics stalling on Bumblebee's form.

Starscream continued to smile, one hand falling in between the bars as he used his forefinger to try and coax the femme towards him, even as he addressed Sunstreaker, "Don't worry Muckstreaker."

"Sunstreaker!" the crazed Autobot shouted.

Starscream was not fazed, his grin growing as he said, "What I want from our little bug isn't… information. It's something a lot more fun… as long as she plays nice."

Starscream purred as he slowly moved for the door controls, the cell swinging open, and Bumblebee automatically backed into the corner. She threw up two fists, ready to fight like a wild cat.

Sunstreaker watched on, wondering why Starscream had just referred to Bumblebee as a 'she.' There were no femmes left, as far as he knew, and Sunstreaker's spark dropped when the thought occured to him that Starscream may be trying to play some sick game with the unfortunate young Autobot.

The flier sighed and shook his head, looking down at his pristine paint job and new alt mode form. He gave a dry look. Slag no, he was not ruining all his hard work. Unlike Megatron, he didn't get as high in the ranks as he did because of brute strength, but because of his conniving instincts. He could get whatever he wanted if he knew what to say.

"Now, don't be like that," he stated, drawing in closer despite that fact that Sunstreaker was now yelling at him not to go near Bumblebee, punching the bars as if he thought he could smash through them like some kind of yellow Hulk.

"It will be much better on you," continued the flier as he pointed at the yellow beast punching at the bars, "and your friends if you just let this happen. You don't want anything bad to happen to Sunshine over there, do you?"

"Did you just use me to threaten the kid!" growled Sunny, his pounding becoming more evident.

Bumblebee looked at Sunstreaker, fists dropping slightly in worry. She was no fan of the hellion twins, but… she didn't want any of her fellow Autobots suffering for her. That was another reason she should leave. If she was gone, they'd be left alone. What should she do, if she got out of this Decepticon hell, that is?

So caught up with her thoughts, she balked when she suddenly felt a shadow fall over her, Starscream smiling down at her as his chest puffed out, his fans blowing hot air onto her.

Bumblebee didn't know much about courting before the war, but Sunny knew… having played with more than a few older mechs. He nearly plowed through the wall when Starscream brought out a hand as if to touch the back of Bumblebee's neck in a sensual touch.

"Don't you touch him! Don't you dare! He's still a youngling," Sunstreaker felt his inner spark clench. No. Bumblebee was a young mech.

There was no way the young mech had had his first interfacing, which was important, and not in the sentimental way humans placed on it. There were programs that a young mech needed to get from his partner. He didn't need them like a femme would, but he still had to get a proper download or he might be damaged from an incorrect interface. Bumblebee may never want to interface again if he found it more painful than pleasurable.

Sunstreaker was not known for being sentimental, but he had had more than enough partners already. He had played rough; he could take a cruel lover, and he could take a lover who liked to play sick games. It was his job to protect the younger mechs, even though Bumblebee was getting around the age to start interfacing. However, he wouldn't allow Bumblebee's first time to be with that slagger.

Sunstreaker softened his voice, putting on false voluptuousness, as he leaned into the bars rather than beat into them, "Come now, Screamer. I know you've felt my hands on your wings before, hands of an artist… Wouldn't you rather have more experienced hands and durable body than a little, dimwitted mech? Come on, Screamer… You know I'm a player."

The jet that had been about to cup Bumblebee's chin in his hand and pull her against his chassis, turned to the mech that was now staring at him with dimmed optics. Now, that was a one-eighty. The sunshine mech –Sunstreaker- now had his attention.

Starscream's wasn't the only attention he had, as Bumblebee could do nothing but stare at the other caged Autobot in astonishment. She immediately realized what Sunstreaker was doing and she couldn't believe it. Sunstreaker was willing to sacrifice himself to save a fellow Autobot from such a fate. He was willing to give himself freely rather than have the same thing taken by force from a comrade.

Bumblebee realized that she didn't know another Autobot who wouldn't do the same thing...and Sunstreaker didn't even seem to realize that she was a femme yet. If he was willing to save a mech from such a fate, then surely he would do anything to save a femme...and so would every Autobot that Bumblebee had ever known...

Oblivious to Bumblebee's current thoughts, Starscream looked upon Sunstreaker lecherously. In truth, the sun-colored Autobot was rather good looking, with those huge ear fins that probably would make him purr for release if they were rubbed right, and a detailed body that could be pinned and ravaged as if he was a pleasure model. Yet, at the same time, the mech was certainly durable and could take some rough-housing. The front-liner probably liked rough-housing.

It was certainly a tempting offer and Starscream would love the opportunity to dominate the jet-judo idiot. The sunny mech did have nice hands. Maybe he wouldn't kill him. He didn't want to wear Bumblebee out, especially while she was carrying… He'd have to find entertainment elsewhere.

That would be the second course, however; the first still needed to be tasted and enjoyed.

Showing his dentals, Starscream chuckled and pulled the shocked looking femme into his chest, before answering, "A tempting offer I may certainly take up on later, but I need an heir right now… not a pleasure model. And she, though inexperienced, can give me an heir."

Sunstreaker had to take a step back, shaking his head as he looked between the Decepticon and his soon-to-be bedfellow, Bumblebee. Sunstreaker misinterpretted the reasoning the Decepticon referred to the young Autobot as a 'she.' Starscream wasn't playing a sick game by pretending Bumblebee was a femme...If Bumblebee could give Starscream an heir and Starscream knew it, then that meant the young bot really was a femme...It was a slap to the face, a cruel awakening.

Bumblebee was a femme… and Starscream was minutes away from ravishing her.

Sunstreaker's shock was short lived, though, as the slightly struggling femme was dragged out of her cell, crying, "No!"

He started slamming into the bars with the full force of his shoulders, so hard that his usually pristine body quickly started to dent. Bumblebee seemed to have been in some kind of shock through the entire exchange; had Starscream touched her before now? Now, however, the young Autobot started to struggle with renewed vigor, pulling at the hand that held her, screaming obscenities.

She managed to mangle some inner working to the warlord's wrist and broke free. Bumblebee then tried to get to the release switch to Sunstreaker's cell, but Starscream pulled her back into his chest with a clang.

"I guess it's the hard way," the Decepticon stated to the two Autobots as he started to drag the femme away with a sickening satisfaction.

Sunstreaker became so desperate to save his companion from this violation that one arm was reaching between the bars, trying to grab her hand, trying to save her any way he could. And Bumblebee had chosen where she'd rather be with her curse: the Autobots. The tips of her fingers desperately tried to grasp her caged companion.

But it was too late now…

The choice was no longer hers.

XXX

Paw07: Laughs. Here I made you guys make a huge list of characters you would like to see yet here I've been too lazy to write any scenes with them in it. Don't worry. There'll be a group scene somewhere before the end. Until then, our backup Autobots get to play with the border patrol. That's a hint if I ever heard one.

Also, cliff hanger! Wooh! Really, by now you all should be used to them.