C.M.D: Some stuff is pretty dark of a topic, but the chapter is in its' entirety, seeing that there's no graphic violence or sexual interactions which would go against site rules.
Title: Blades and First Aid VI
Rating: M
Warnings: Kidnapping, abuse, explicit language
No matter how many times he knocked, no one answered. "...come on 'Aid...," Ratchet mumbled worriedly, rapping his knuckles on the door for the umpteenth time, "...answer. Please..." Only the sound of his own knocking echoed down the hall.
Venting quietly, Ratchet pulled his sore servo away from the door, staring at the wood. Some of the paint had chipped off from his earlier banging, and there was a good chance that the shadow he saw was actually a small dent from his repeated knocking. Yet even after all that, no one had come to the door. He couldn't even hear anyone inside either.
"... slaggit!," the labrador growled, kicking the door frame. He pressed a servo to his optics, feeling guilt rot in his fuel tanks. This was all his fault. He should have responded sooner; should have insisted that First Aid stayed at the hospital and kept a close optic on him. Now, he'd failed.
"...sir?"
Ratchet lifted his helm at the polite whisper, turning his helm to the young femme on his left. Her blue optics shuttered up at him quietly, worried and anxious. "...you're Ratchet, aren't you?," she asked. "My brother's boss."
The old mech faced her fully. "Yes. And you must be Ignis then." She nodded.
Glancing at the door, the femme cycled a shaky intake, optics starting to glaze with coolant. "H...h-he's not in there, sir," she swallowed sharply. "I-i looked already. Th-through the window, I-i mean... T-the place is e-empty... a-and a mess... I-i-"
"Woah, woah now...," Ratchet quickly mumbled, stepping up to the femme. He rested his servos on her shoulder plating, trying to hold back his unease. "Breathe. That's it... deep breath... Can... can you tell me what's going on here?"
Ignis did as instructed shortly, servos shaking at her sides. "I...I d-don't r-really know w-what's happening, s-sir," she confessed, a sob highlighted in her tone. "I... I t-tried coming a f-few days after First Aid d-didn't s-show up for our f-family dinner. M-my older brother was c-coming into t-town, you s-see... a-and we d-don't seem him o-often... B-but when I c-came, t-there w-was n-no one here a-and First A-aid was l-looking a-at our m-medical files a-and his s-sheets were s-stained w-with energon a-and tr-transfluids-"
He pulled the femme into a hug as soon as her servos shot up to her face, stifling the terrified sob that escaped her. "I-i d-don't k-know whe-where h-he is a-and I-i'm s-scared he m-might b-be in d-danger! T-there's reports o-of m-missing a-autodogs a-and-"
"S-shh...," the labrador hushed gently, squeezing the femme tightly. "L...let's not jump to conclusions just yet. First, we need to talk to your parents... and then we can take things from there. Alright?" He pulled back a tad, trying to meet the smaller autodog's optics. Wiping her face quickly, Ignis nodded, biting back her whimpers as best as she could.
"C...c-come...," she croaked, stepping back and towards the staircase. "I-i'll s-show you where we l-live..."
xxXxXxx
"Move..."
Shouting voices. Always shouting.
"Move or I'll pump ya full of led!"
First Aid cringed as he was bumped and jostled down the dark, grungy hall; armed mechs on either side keeping the slue of captives in line. Not a single one of them could breathe properly, let alone move, still, they were shoved along by gun point further into the never-ending darkness.
He should have been frightened...
The group he was in were. They whimpered and cried, some holding onto each other; others just glancing at their abductors with terror, before turning their optics back down to their shuffling pedes. Most of them were so young... The australian shepherd caught himself as an autodog behind him tripped, crashing into his back. The poor femme sobbed as she righted herself, her fingers still clutched desperately in his shirt.
"Shut it!," one of the mechs snarled, grabbing her by the helm. He ripped her away from the line, tearing her grip free from First Aid's shirt, unmindful of her shrieking or thrashing of terror. "Silence that stupid sniveling or I'll silence it for you!" He put his pistol in her mouth, glaring at her.
The group slowed a tad, all helms turned back at the unfortunate femme in horror. They whimpered and shook on her behalf, trying not to scream as the assailant cocked the gun. Choking on her sobs and fear, the femme shuttered her optics; trembling in the mech's grasp. Fluid slowly trickled down her thigh, dripping to the ground below.
Snorting, the mech threw her back into the throng, while his cohorts chortled cruelly. "Consider yourself lucky that you are necessary for a higher cause," her tormentor informed. "Now, I don't remember saying you duckies could stop... MOVE!"
Rifles and shotguns were shoved back in their faces and backstruts, urging the terrified group to trot forward again. First Aid was forced to follow the pace, still trying to remember how he had gotten here. He... He remembered being sated, safe... Walking, needing to fulfill an important task, before...
This.
Aching joints, sore processor, whimpering and crying and told to move by monsters behind guns. A feeling he was strangely familiar with.
xxXxXxx
Blades shuttered his optics for a moment as he entered the room. Wow. Yoketron hadn't been kidding when he said he was calling everyone in. The old kai ken, obviously, sat up at the front with his buddy Soundblaster, fiddling with a projector. On the right, sitting in the first available seat was Ransack, cracking jokes with Bombshell, Sixshot just beside them, then Ironfist and Razorclaw. Brainstorm was sitting at the far end of the table, people giving him obvious distance, while he played with a datapad in his servos. Not too far away from him, on the left side of the room, was Kup; pedes up, whiskey bottle in his servos, the old coot looking surprisingly comfortable beside the resident crazy.
Even Onslaught, the bore, was here too. Along with... his sons...
The bull terrier glared as he met the lynx's gaze, Vortex waggling his fingers and grinning back at him. Primus, how he hated that mech. He got stuck during a group mission once with Onslaught's sons; Blast Off was a regular aft, Brawl a bit too retarded for his liking, but he hadn't minded them much at all. Vortex though...
Blades despised that kittycon. He reminded him of some of the sick freaks he'd dealt with back during the war -and this one he was forbidden from skinning.
Yoketron cleared his vocalizer a tad as Soundblaster drew down the projection screen, calling for attention. Immediately, any and all idle chatter quieted; all Wreckers turning to face their two older allies. Turning the projector on, Yoketron looked at all of them solemnly, as the lights dimmed.
"I have gathered you here today because an event we have diligently been tracking has suddenly taken a dark and unforgivable turn," the kai ken began, "And it's time for the Wreckers to step in before things escalate beyond hope..."
xxXxXxx
Outside.
He hated outside.
But this was necessary; it was needed if he was ever to get him to come back. Vortex. He had left, because he had nothing left to sustain his savior's physical appetite. A mistake on his part. He should have been more diligent. Should have known to take better care.
No matter, First Aid smiled to himself. He would correct his mishap, and then the lynx would return, and things would be perfect as they once were. And he would no longer have to be out here among all the others.
Soothed by these thoughts, the autodog picked up his pace, eager to get to the market. He knew of a good one nearby, that had the best groceries. He would select some fresh vegetables and the like, and cook Vortex a meal, as apology and incentive to return. The vet was certain that the grey mech would approve. Humming, First Aid turned down a side street, planning to get to the store sooner by taking a short cut. He lifted his helm as he heard voices up ahead.
A small, white autodog looked up to a taller mech; talking about things that the australian shepherd could not hear. Bothers, he thought, moving to make sure he walked around them. Out of the corner of his optic, he saw the little shih tzu's smile falter, before he took a step away from the stranger, shaking his helm. He tried to walk away.
The mech snarled, lunging at the youngling, grabbing his wrist.
First Aid stared as the shih tzu dropped his flowers, asking for release while tugging weakly.
...He shouldn't be doing that..., a part of him whispered faintly. That wasn't right...
"...wait...," he mumbled, taking a step towards the two. The vet didn't even know if his words had been spoken at all. All the same, large, baby blue optics lifted, connecting with his; surprise and hope shining in them momentarily.
The shih tzu opened his mouth widely, probably to cry out for help, when the stranger slapped a servo over his mouth; whirling around and glaring at the other autodog. Optics flared in partial surprise, before a sinister grin spread across the mech's face.
A flicker of fear passed through First Aid.
Tires screeched down the side street as a grey van suddenly appeared, racing for the trio. Panic thrashed a few of its fingers through his daze, curling into the australian shepherd's spark; screaming for him to flee. He turned to do so and foolishly stared at the poor youngling, thrashing for help in his captor's hold.
His moment to escape was gone.
The van drew right up to First Aid before he even could clue in to what was happening next; side door slamming open and a set of servos grabbing him. Kicking and flailing, the autodog was pulled into the blackness, fighting to get the tainted clothe away from his face. But his captor had a strong grip and his naive attempt to scream for help had drawn the chemical straight into his vents -already, First Aid could feel the chloroform soaking into his joints and circuits, making him sluggish and sleepy.
Carelessly, he was shoved back into the vehicle to make room for the stranger dragging the flailing shih tzu into the van. When he tried to get up all the same, he was slapped back down to the grungy floor; the sound of a rifle cracking in his ears as he dropped off into darkness.
xxXxXxx
A map of Cybetron glowed on the projector screen.
"For the past year, small reports of a new cult has begun to rise. Their followers were very few, hardly noticeable at first. Mostly kittycons within a certain age group, rumoured to pay tributes to an unknown deity in return for prosperity. The documented believers were farmers, in unfortunate, isolated country towns. Climate troubles, among other things, made for poor crops each season..."
"Hey," a voice hissed softly under Yoketron's chatter, annoying to the ears, "Hey... Blades..."
The bull terrier clenched his fists, trying to ignore the kittycon.
"Their new-found religion was insignificant and henceforth irrelevant," Yoketron continued, clicking the remote for the slide show. A picture of a group of men patrolling a patch of cabins showed next. "Then a report came that the very same religion, carrying the exact same signature marks and traditions, was being practised in a more populated town up north. The sudden rise of numbers was a little shocking, but not nearly as much as what the files reported next..."
"Hey, Blades..."
Blades glared at the lynx from the corner of his optic, unable to brush aside the frustrating kittycon's pestering. He wondered if he could crack through that stupid visor with one of his daggers before someone stopped him.
At his attention, even minute, Vortex grinned insanely, fingers scratching excitedly across the table top. "You have a brother... right?"
"Members were noted to be mutilated. Cut, burned, limbs missing... The amount of self-inflicted wounds vary, in count and method. Intelligence was sent in to try and extract specifics on the deity worshipped and the demands required from its followers, but our officers never got through." Another picture popped on the screen. This one of a bunker. "A raid was attempted, but only ended in failure. Members of the religion had moved on."
The red mech tried to hold back his snarl, turning his helm away from the kittycon. Anger was rising in him quickly; his servos circled tightly around his knives. He didn't want to hear this freak talk about his brothers, or anyone else in his family for that matter.
But Vortex was relentless. "What was his name...?," the other mech whispered softly, amusement in his tone, "Ah... yes... First Aid."
"Almost all evidence of the followers' presence there had been cleared out. But just enough had been left behind to reveal to us, that this was no new faith. This was a cult."
Blades snapped his helm to Vortex, fangs bared silently in rage. A part of him knew responding to the crazy mech was the wrong thing to do, but he didn't care. The fragger had mentioned First Aid. Visor glowing with his delight, the lynx leaned forward an inch, smiling sickly at the autodog.
"Yes... that was his name; I remember now," he snickered lowly. "You've got a very sweet brother there, Blades-a-roo. Very... soft... warm... willing to spread his legs... I never thought he'd be so accommodating, but I guess being a nurse or whatever makes him very negotiable. Maybe we should have more whores take up a quick medical course, huh?"
"Several bodies were fou-"
A roar interrupted Yoketron; Blades throwing himself across the table at the grinning lynx, daggers drawn. Immediately the lights came back on as mechs tried to grab the bull terrier and lynx, struggling to pull the two away from each other. Blades snarled, bellowing with the rage of twenty mechs; almost dislodging Razorclaw and Brawl. Pinned to the wall by his own sire and brother, Vortex laughed, a glossa peaking out and licking at the trail of energon dripping from his cracked visor.
"What a show!," he howled with amusement. "Come on! Let him go! I want to see what the rage-fest can do!"
"I'LL KILL YOU!," the red mech roared, thrashing harder to get free. "YOU FRAGGER! I'LL RIP OUT YOUR SPIKE AND FRAG YOU WITH IT DOWN YOUR FRAGGING SICK, LYING THROAT! DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM! DON'T YOU FRAGGING EVER THINK OF FIRST AID AGAIN, YOU PATHETIC, DEMENTED-"
"Enough!" Yoketron's voice cut threw the din, silencing everyone with its soft, deadly tone. Still struggling to pull free from his restraints, Blades turned his helm to the kai ken, growling.
"I won't be silent until-"
"You will be, Blades," the old mech interrupted coldly. His gaze was icy as he looked at the bull terrier. "Because if you can not cooperate, you are out of this mission. And believe me... you're necessary to its success."
Lifting his servo, Yoketron clicked the button on the projector's remote, bringing up the next picture.
Silence reigned at the two individual, smiling faces shining back at the group.
Onslaught was the first to break it. "...Yoketron, explain."
The old mech sat down in his chair again, servos folded on the table top grimly. "Meet a couple of our latest victims...," he started lowly.
xxXxXxx
He'd lived through this before... but that didn't make this any easier.
First Aid sat, hugging his legs to his chestplates, as he surveyed the rest of his companions. Held in a dark, dingy room -the only light shining through the crack under the door- they sat, huddled in groups; crying quietly, hugging each other, soft pleas for help escaping them. Autodogs. All of them. White, if not mostly, youngling, mech and femme. Not a single one of them was older than forty stellar cycles; the probability that most of them were still sealed was high.
This had been a selective hunt, the vet noted sombrely. Like the concentration camp he faintly recalled from his sparkling years. Except no one had forced them into hard labour. They hadn't even been made to do anything of any sort... At least, not yet. Tucking his chin further between his knee joints, First Aid stared blankly at the others, knowing with certainty that their nightmare had not even reached its pinnacle yet. There was a purpose to them being here, after all.
Vortex...
He shuttered his optics, venting quietly. There was no fear; no tears. What was the use of crying? Why be afraid? Their captors had already stripped them of all dignity: leaving them in a dark, stained room; clothes ripped from their frames and left to shiver in their underwear; a pathetic bowl of water and gruel brought in twice an orn and kicked across the floor for them to receive, as if they were mere animals. Biding time, was all. The vet could fathom the turn their precarious situation might take, and that grim finality stripped away any chance to whimper and pray as his fellow autodogs did.
But Vortex would come. There was the promise of loyalty -of devotion and love. The kittycon would come for him. It was what the australian shepherd clung to. It was his truth, and his only reason for keeping calm. Panic would get them killed faster.
First Aid onlined his optics as he heard something shuffle closer to him; lifting his helm, he glanced momentarily at the youngling kneeling beside him. It was the shih tzu he had seen before, the same one that he'd been abducted with as well, for trying to help.
"...h-hi," the youngling smiled weakly, "I'm Fireflight. Thank you... for trying to help..."
The vet slowly shuttered his optics.
"I'm sorry that I got you involved."
"...I know," First Aid replied lowly, lip components stretching with a twinge of pain. The scab had yet to fully heal. Ignoring his discomfort, the older mech slowly rested his chin back in his knees, needing to rest his optics again.
He felt so tired...
Something pressed into his side slightly, and cracking open an optic, the australian shepherd was faintly surprised to see that Fireflight had moved to sit beside him; the shih tzu folding his servos on his knee joints as he leaned against the wall with First Aid. The youngling did not say anything and he did not look over at First Aid. He merely sat there, quietly and comfortably, looking over the other autodogs with a dim, curious expression.
Confused slightly, the vet slowly shuttered his optics again, processor full of kittycons and guns and knights with insane grins...
xxXxXxx
"First Aid and Fireflight..." the kai ken continued, looking at each of the Wreckers individually. "Faces some of you recognize. Others, not so. The cult, as we discovered this growing religion to be, was not in fact for farmers in poor back-water country towns. In fact, they seem to have no real method or origin, but its become apparent that they operate in an underground network. A frightening number of followers, these mechs -ranging from thirty stellar cycles to about eighty- collect and presumably try to...exonerate the 'sacred ones', as they are called, through their faith."
"Before, those 'sacred ones' were volunteers. But soon, such fanatics were hard to come by. Our cultists then resorted to kidnapping. There have been numerous missing persons reports filed since the start of the decade, and I'm afraid a pattern has come into light. Autodogs -sparklings all the way up to thirty or so stellar cycles- have gone missing. All of them have had the same characteristics: white plating, short stature, noted for having sweet dispositions and of purer breeding." Yoketron paused, changing the picture for a moment. Members cringed at the gruesome image they found themselves looking at next.
"They have moved into central territory, snatching those that fit their profiles straight from day time streets and even outside their very own homes," he went on, shoulders tense, "Primarily, all of their captives are virgins. No ransoms had ever been made and it's clear they have no wish to release their captives. It is believed that they try to fulfill some sort of quota required by their Cult -perhaps, use the victims as keys to achieve a higher sort of enlightenment. But..."
The screen changed again, showing a collage of multiple, vicious deaths. Each victim was accompanied by their missing persons sheet.
"As seen, this order seems to be unable to meet that requirement. These are some of the earlier mechs and femmes to have gone missing... All of them found, dumped carelessly in ravines and other abandoned places, tortured... mutilated... and, as the labs have discovered, brutally raped by more than several assailants..."
The screen returned to the two mechs from earlier, as Yoketron turned in his chair, facing the group once more.
"In this week alone, these mechs have managed to kidnap a staggering two hundred and twelve autodogs -from Kaon, Vos, Iacon, Helex and Tesarus. That is more than they have ever taken in six months. They are gearing up for something, and it is necessary that we put a stop to their sick religion before these poor souls suffer the same as their predecessors."
"For you...," the kai ken glanced at Onslaught and then Blades, "This becomes personal. For it's your brother, Blades, and your son-in-law Onslaught, that have now become involved in this dark affair. Military and federal law would state that I keep you out of a case so personal... but I believe you can be an asset. Your specific traits and your loyalty to your loved ones can lead us to discovering the base of operations for this Cult and to save these victims before it's too late. Am I wrong?"
Vortex twisted out of Onslaught's grip, grinning viciously at the older mech. "I do so enjoy a good hunt," he growled lowly.
"...it's 'hold no bars', yeah...?," Blades asked quietly. Yoketron nodded. Gently shaking the kittycons off, the bull terrier sat at the table; a knife gouging into the wood. "Good. Then let's talk facts."
Yoketron looked at all of the mechs in turn again, the faintest smile touching at his lip components as he pulled out his datapad finally. Tense, but resolved now, each of the Wreckers waited to hear the rest of the mission details, their thoughts on the sick fraggers they'd soon be plunging into the Pit.