Title: Immolation (part 21/100)
Prompt: "Missing"
Verse: G1 (AU)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 703
Pairings: Inferno/Red Alert
Other Characters: Optimus Prime. Prowl. Blaster. Jazz. Teletraan 1.
Warnings: Sticky. Mentions of Rape.
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers, or any of the official characters, do not get paid for doing this except with reviews.
Summary: Red Alert wakes up locked in his private washroom, finding that Inferno is gone. He's not happy.
Notes: A continuation of my series of interlinked vignettes on the theme of Inferno being raped, and how he and Red Alert deal with it, centred around prompts from slash_100.
Groon – 1 hour.
Astrosecond - ≈.273 seconds
Orbital cycle: 1 day
Missing
Red Alert returned to consciousness abruptly, sitting up in panic. "Inferno! What are you doing?" he croaked, placing a hand over his throat in shock at how horrible his voice sounded. A frantic scan of the washracks told him Inferno was not around, so he staggered unsteadily to his feet, going to the door and pressing the button to open it.
It didn't budge.
"Frag!" he cursed., anxiety rising. There was only one reason he could think of for Inferno to knock him out and lock him in the washracks. He sent the codes for remote access of Teletraan 1. :Teletraan, location of Inferno.:
:Inferno is not aboard the Ark.:
Suddenly there was a dent in the wall next to the locking pad, and his fist ached. He needed to do something! Call Prowl? Prowl had all the codes to all the doors on the Ark, but the washracks door didn't look from the outside, which meant Inferno had shorted it, which meant that all the codes in the world wouldn't make the door comply.
Unsubspacing his weapon, Red Alert fired at the door pad, then manually pried the door open.
What to do now? He checked his chronometer, confirming that he had been offline for two groons, which meant Inferno could be anywhere by now!
He had to tell someone, had to organize a search party!
Red Alert sprinted from his quarters, so distressed that he didn't even bother to lock the door after himself.
He ran for Optimus' office, pausing along the way to interrogate every mech he saw, waving aside their questions and sympathetic professions, his processor focused on only one thing: to find Inferno.
Finally arrived at his leader's office he punched in the override code and barged in, uncaring of social niceties. Jazz, Prowl, Optimus and Blaster stared at him with wide optics from where they sat around a table, clearly having a meeting.
"Inferno is missing!" he blurted. "He knocked me out and locked me in my washracks and Teletran says he's no longer aboard the Ark and no one has seen him, and - " He was cut off by a piercing pain lancing through his processor. Oh Primus, please not now! Realistically he knew he had been lucky not to have an attack sooner considering what he had been through, but it did nothing to console him.
"Red Alert," Optimus began in that soothing, placating tone that everyone but Inferno seemed to adopt when dealing with one of his episodes, "that may be the case, but you will not help him by letting yourself get into such a state."
"State, what state? He's my partner - my recently raped and brutalized partner - who has been medically certified as a suicide risk! And now on top of that the media decides to fragging do a special news segment about it?" The security director inwardly cringed at his outburst, already feeling his control beginning to slip. "What kind of state should I be in?" His processor ache sharpened, but he struggled to retrieve the impression of calm.
"Please Optimus, we need to send out search parties, we need to find him! He could be trying to end his life at this very moment! The Decepticons could find him and decide to give him a repeat performance! The media could find him and harass him until he does something des -" His next words were lost as a sudden stabbing pain through his cranium made his tanks heave, and he barely made it to the wastebasket before purging violently.
The chorus of several chairs being pushed back suddenly as his comrades rose to help, amplified by his sensitive hearing, only made the pain worse. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he waved them back.
"I'm calling Ratchet," Optimus said.
"Please do something! Why aren't you doing something? Do you want him to die? Would that be easier for you?" Blue electricity flared over his helm, accompanied by the tang of ozone so cloyingly strong to his enhanced olfactory sensors that he couldn't help purging again. "Inferno...!"
The miasma of pain and delusion overtook him.