C.M.D: Because of the nature of this chapter, scenes have been removed. Please follow the links in my profile if you are interested in reading the full version.
Title: Blades and First Aid VII
Rating: M
Warnings: graphic violence and sexual abuse
"M-my baby... Where's my baby?!"
Ratchet stood uncomfortably as Groove shouted at Hotspot in favour of ignoring him, servos twisted tightly into a handkerchief and shaking as the komondor tried to hold back tears. Ignis, who had led the vet back to her house, stood beside Ratchet, crying silently herself.
"Honey, please...," Hot Spot weakly attempted to placate.
"No!," Groove shouted. "You told me that I shouldn't worry that he wasn't talking to us. You told me that he was just busy and as a full-grown mech, he was entitled to have some time to himself without informing us. You said that everything would be okay! Now my baby's missing and none of us know why!"
Choking, the grey autodog turned away from his bondmate, shunning the servos that rose to try and comfort him. Hurt, Hot Spot let his servos fall back to his sides; turning his attention meekly to the other two autodogs occupying the room with them.
"I... I am sorry about this, Ratchet was it?," the affenpinscher said weakly. "We don't mean to make a... a scene-"
"Don't worry about it," Ratchet quickly interjected, his usual scowl touched with sympathy for the other mech. "On worse days at the hospital, I see plenty of grief but there's nothing more frightful or spark-breaking than a missing child -no matter their age."
"I-i'm so-sorry, p-papa," Ignis sniffled beside the labrador. "I t-tried to find b-brother, but h-he was gone a-and I di-didn't..." Hot Spot walked forwards, opening his arms to receive the femme that charged into them an astrosecond later, choking back sobs as she buried her face into the blue mech's broad chestplates.
"I...it's alright, Ignis," the veteran soothed, stroking the youngling's helm. "Y-you were right t-to be c-concerned... I j-just wish we h-had responded sooner o-ourselves..."
Hot Spot shook his helm, clearing his vocalizer heavily. "All the same, thank you for coming and informing us, Ratchet. If we hadn't known that First Aid wasn't even coming to work in the last few days, we may never have known he was missing until it was much too late" Even admitting just that still caused the affenpinscher's face to twist in pain.
Nodding, Ratchet slide his servos in his pockets, trying to hide the weight settling heavily down upon his own shoulders. "Listen, I think it's best I leave now... give you time to think," he replied softly. "I'll file a missing person's notice to the Enforcers department, and maybe Ignis can help in giving them a follow up, plus any additional information that may come in handy. If there's anything you need, I'm always reachable at the hosp-"
The labrador was interrupted by a knock at the door; confused, three optics looked at one another, before Hot Spot straightened his posture and gently put Ignis to one side. "Excuse me," he said lowly, exiting the living room. Ratchet stood by uncertainly while the femme turned to Groove, seating them both down on the couch as she tried to get the older autodog to look at her. In the front hallway, there could be heard the muffled chatter of two vocalizers.
Just as the vet was about to turn and leave himself (announced or unannounced), Hot Spot returned... along with an older kai ken.
"Mr. Yoketron?," Ignis gaped, optics shuttering in confusion. Even Groove looked up at the stranger's name.
The autodog (who looked incredible for his indeterminable age) gave the family a small smile, though his optics remained dim and saddened. "I am afraid I have bad news," Yoketron began. He turned his attention to Ratchet, who was once again trying to excuse himself. "I believe you should remain, Ratchet, for this pertains to you as well."
"...you know me?," the labrador asked, suspiciously. He was certain he had never heard, let alone met a mech like Yoketron before.
With that slagging smile still fixed on his lip components, the mysterious mech nodded, turning again to the rest of the family. "Please," he vented softly, "Sit. It saddens me to say that what I'm about to share will be much to take in."
Tapping Ratchet gently, Hot Spot gestured for the vet to join him by the couch; to which the old labrador was inclined to accept, if only because he was curious of how this stranger knew of him. Once everyone was seated, attention garnered, Yoketron crossed both servos over the head of his cane... and opened his mouth to speak.
xxXxXxx
It was cold. Colder than before. They must of been underground, far underground, but the chill was good. Drove the haze away a little, tugged him out of the rise of unwanted memories. He was still debating if this new-found clarity was a blessing or not.
Dim optics looked over the puffing of his intakes, scoping the dark room. Already their numbers had dropped to maybe half. A handful had been dragged off orns before -screaming and begging and crying- to where, no one knew... and they all hoped they would never find out. A few others had merely passed on. A lack of proper food, air, the cold and infection from minor wounds had overwhelmed them. Their grey husks littered the cell with the rest of the living, the guards too lazy to dispose of them; decorated in a web of frost, and a free meal to the turborats slowly gathering in number.
First Aid wondered morbidly which path he'd travel down first: rodent food or victim to the unknown.
"Here."
Something cold hit the edge of his elbow. With lethargic effort, the australian shephered turned his helm to the side, perplexed to see the shih tzu once more there. "I have food," the youngling said, smiling. He was surprised to know that the smaller autodog was even in the cell at all.
He had thought he might be snatched up in the first couple selections. Imagining Fireflight being taken away from the group made something squirm within the vet; it drove him further up and out of his daze, reminding him that this was another 'bot -the very same ones that he swore to help and protect when he took his medical vows.
He felt colder now.
Hugging himself, First Aid looked down at the rusty half of a cup that miraculously held some of the gruel that had been delivered to them cycles ago. That all of the food had not been eaten was testament to the fact that many more of them had already given up fighting during their captivity. So why not this pup?
"Here," Fireflight repeated, gently pushing the cup forward again. The youngling's brow was slightly furrowed, expressing his concern. "You should eat."
He was right, of course. Eating, if even it all seemed hopeless, was necessary. Moving one servo, First Aid reached for the offered cup, slowly bringing it to his mouth. A weak 'thank you' whispered past chapped lip components, as the australian shepherd turned his optics away from the beaming youngling. Just like previous times before, Fireflight nestled into his side, warming the older autodog against the impossible cold.
xxXxXxx
Long claws trailed down a cheekplate, causing a tingling sensation that trailed all the way down past his lip components, neck, and through his spinal struts. It left a strange feeling of being right and so very wrong at the same time. Confused, the poor autodog tried to lift his helm to see who stood directly in front of him... but everything felt weighted down. Like there was a servo upon his crown, keeping his optics downcast.
Where?
The questions died on the edge of his glossa, not even reaching his lip components. His processor hurt for a moment, plagued with a stream of -memories? Fantasies? Stories?- that flashed through so quickly that there was only a muddy blur of colours before nothing again. Another sensation rose, more chilling than the one previously.
Help...
"Say my name," the other presence said; vocalizer a chaos of overlapping chords and tones. The claw stroked again, gentle... harsh... gentle... "Call me by name and you will be saved."
Cycling deeply, the autodog felt his lip components finally part, pushing against odds and slowly lifting his helm. A smoky haze buzzed before him, indistinguishable. Red? Grey? Who was the one he should call saviour?
"V..."
xxXxXxx
The large, creaking thunk of locks turning shocked them all from their slumber. Groggily, First Aid raised his helm from his arms, blinking against the blinding light filling the room. He only realized the door was open when a couple of the other younglings broke out into sleepy mumbling; all such chatter falling away to confused scrambling when shadows filled the doorways.
"Wha...," Fireflight whispered sleepily, lifting his own helm from the vet's shoulder. The australian shepherd quickly covered the youngling's mouth, looking him in the optics for a moment, before turning back to the doorway.
Every single one of the captives waited, vents stilled, trying to figure out what was going on. "Get four," a vocalizer growled out in the light. Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Any remnants of sleep were ripped away as five figures stepped into the dark cell, carrying large flashlights as they entered to a chorus of frightened whimpers and vents as the younglings hurried to scramble to anywhere safe in the room.
Getting to their pedes, First Aid hastened to get himself and Fireflight out of sight of their collectors, sticking to the wall against their backstruts. The shrieking began as the thugs started storming across the room, snatching at the smaller autodogs. One, then two, of the younglings were dragged out of the room, crying loudly, pulled by their necks and carried under one arm. "Two more!," the same vocalizer yelled from in the hallway.
Flashlight beams swept around the room in disarray, showing flashes of 'bots tripping and running and diving across the room. It was chaos as every captive fled along the four corners, desperate not to be taken away. Lip components pressed tightly, First Aid calmly moved across the room, searching for a nook decent enough to hide the both of them in. So focused in his task was he that when bright light flashed across the line of his optics, he paid it no mind, until gravity was violently shifted and he fell backwards; his hold on Fireflight lost.
"A-ah!"
Wincing, the vet rolled onto his side, slowly pushing himself up onto his knees. "Got ya!," one of their assailant's gloated, holding the shih tzu up off the floor by an arm. Across the room, another youngling screamed as they were grabbed, lifted over his captor's shoulder plating and carried towards the door.
"Hurry it up," their leader growled. "We haven't got all day!"
They were going to take Fireflight away. In a flash, First Aid was up on his pedes, grabbing for the mech turning to drag the youngling out of the cell.
"S-stop..."
Cruel optics turned down onto him, but he didn't remove his servo from the thug's arm. Fireflight whimpered from the other side, tearful optics looking back and forth between their captor and the australian shepherd. They pleaded desperately for help. Swallowing slowly, First Aid tightened his grip, stepping closer to the larger mech.
"Take... take me instead," he continued hoarsely, trying to keep back the fear filling his spark, "H-he... he's not ready yet..."
"N-no-," Fireflight began, but he was shoved aside before he could even finish his protest.
"Not ready, huh?," the thug sneered. It was frightening how quickly his optics lit up. "Very well," the older autodog went on, grabbing First Aid's wrist, "Let's go test your readiness."
Tripping after the first yank, the australian shepherd quickly regained balance; holding himself upright even as he was herded along behind the others, out into the burning light and certain death.
It wasn't long, or very far, before they were led to a large chamber; well lit and cleaned, in comparison to the rest of their prison that they had so far seen. The younglings twisted their helms back and forth, frantic optics zipping around the room in perplexed terror, but their captors merely brought the little herd to a stop a few feet beyond the door they had just entered through.
Surrounded, they had no choice but to stand there, waiting. ...but for what? Something hissed and growled loudly and with unfamiliar sounds, growing louder and louder as doors opened on opposite sides of the chamber. There were a few shrieks as a dozen of their captors dragged out a giant, steel box by a network of chains; the hideous noises escaping whatever thing laid within. Whatever it was, it was large and hungry, with teeth and claws so massive they could have easily been half the height of one of the youngling's each. And dark. The unknown beast was like a massive roiling blob of inky black; too dark to distinguish proper features aside from its fangs and claws and what appeared to be several slithering tentacles.
Sobbing, the lot of them were prodded forwards a few pedesteps, drawing the thing's attention. It snorted the air heavily, before growling gravelly; headbutting the cage, rocking it violently and wildly trying to claw out of its prison.
Trapped in their own fear, the younglings almost didn't notice the femme being carried out from the other set of doors, until she was almost was in view. And by then, she had started screaming. "B-by Primus! N-nooo! No! HELP! HELP ME, PL-PLEASE!"
She struggled wildly, but she was held good and tight in her captor's servos; pedes lifted up off the floor so she could not push against being carried closer to the cage. Despite her motion, it was still very evident she was completely bare (same as the mech that had her), cleaned of all grime and yet still filthy... but in a different sort of context. "P-please!," she shrieked, in tears. "D-don't do this! Let m-me go! PLEASE!"
Everyone ignored her cries, and instead she was carried closer to the cage. Callously, she was thrown to the ground when her and her captor were barely a few feet from the creature, lurking frighteningly silent in its cell. The femme sobbed loudly as something crunched underneath her frame (no doubt her ankle), too disoriented by the pain to fend off the thug as he bent down, chaining her to a ring imbedded in the floor.
Gasps broke out around First Aid, followed by pitiful sobs as the other younglings behind him watched as the thug then approached the cage with a long hook; looping the end around the large seal at the top of the cage and giving it a good hard yank, before backing far behind the chained femme.
The poor autodog herself only took notice of her situation the moment the cage door crashed to the ground with a thunderous clatter. Air cycled through her vents faster and harder as she grabbed the chain around her other ankle, desperately trying to pull free or something, as the creature began to rumble from within its fuel tanks, slithering through the opening like a wraith.
xxXxXxx
Silence filled the room; only a few mechs occupying it, each lost in their own tasks. With carefully monitored cycles, Blades watched each of the other Wreckers, a dagger wriggling deeper and deeper into the top of the table he sat at alone. His grip tightened an inch as his gaze made its full circle to the lynx pacing back and forth on the opposite side of the room -equally as quiet and tense as the autodog himself was. Seeing the fragger always made Blades want to slit his throat but for this time, and this time alone, he was willing to let Vortex live another orn.
He could kill him after he got First Aid back.
The door opened and Yoketron entered, glancing at Blades momentarily before turning his helm to the other Wreckers. "Any signs?," he asked Sixshot.
"Nothing," the kittycon replied grimly.
Immediately Blades was up on his pedes. "This isn't working!," he growled, ripping his dagger free. "Sitting here, going over stupid files- we're getting nowhere!"
"Blades, you must-" Yoketron started.
"NO!," the bull terrier roared, interrupting the older mech. "This is my fragging BROTHER we're talking about! I want him back NOW!"
Sixshot rose out of his own seat, staring Blades down coolly with a look that clearly said 'one more toe out of line and I'll skin you for your disrespect'. Of course, the mercenary didn't care about the silent threat; he only got more riled up.
A cane shot up between the two mechs before a brawl could break out, Yoketron calmly stepping forward. "I understand your feelings Blades, but finding First Aid will not be accomplished by merely charging out into the city and blindly attacking everything, with no lead on where to search for him and the others. In fact, that may just get your brother killed faster."
"All the same...," the kai ken continued, lowering his cane before him, both servos folding over the sparrow, "I agree with you that things are progressing slower than I would like with these files. Which is why I am sending you, Vortex, to begin tracking alongside Razorclaw."
The lynx paused in his stride, helm canted as he and everyone else absorbed what had just been said.
"Yoketron," Sixshot began, "Surely you do not-"
"You're sending THAT fragger to find my baby brother!," Blades snarled, daggers drawn. "HOW CAN YOU?! Did you fragging forget he's a slagging PSYCHO!"
"No," Yoketron answered.
"FRAG YOU! I'm going out to look!"
"No Blades," the Special Ops Officer repeated, "You are to stay here with everyone else and keep going over the files for any clues as to where this new cult is housed at. Vortex and Razorclaw have more experience and skill at tracking than you, and they know to be stealthy about it and radio base should they find anything." There was a sharp, pointed look at Vortex to which the lynx purred.
Yoketron ignored him. "Sixshot, if you will," he requested politely, turning to the door. The large kittycon silently stepped behind Yoketron, facing Blades and blocking the path to the door. "Come along Vortex," the kai ken added, not even skipping a beat.
The lynx skipped to the door excitedly, allowed access by Sixshot, waggling his claws at the shaking autodog. "Have fun researching!," he cackled, before disappearing out of sight with their superior. A dagger found itself embedded in the wall where Vortex's helm had been an astrosecond too late.
xxXxXxx
"Y-you're back!"
Soft pedesteps echoed in the darkness, before warm arms collided into him, wrapping around his torso. The vocalizer was familiar, same as the touch; it had been the only friendly tone he'd heard in Primus knew how long.
"I... I thought y-you weren't coming back," Fireflight mumbled against his chestplates, the sensation of something wet pressed to the plating. "T-the others... the others d-didn't come back..."
No, the others taken with the vet didn't return.
Was it a miracle then that he was returning?
"W-what happened?," came the dreaded question.
First Aid turned his attention to the shih tzu, and caught the dozen other optics floating in the darkness behind him, all desperate to know the answer. Standing there -weak, tired, ashamed, numb- the older autodog came to a decision. Lie.
"...nothing," he whispered, tone raspy. "You should sleep."
Fireflight shuttered his optics, a smile slowly growing on his face all the same. He must have known he was being lied to yet he didn't seem afraid. Only glad. "Come," the youngling gently prodded, pulling First Aid further into the dark room, "I saved our spot."