C.M.D: Been a long time, as per usual. But I did manage to crack out another chapter- and for these two characters, no less! So, I hope this satisfies everyone's need for a little while longer while I try to churn out some more. Enjoy!
Title: Rodimus IV
Rating: T
"Roddy? Ya in?"
Blackout jiggled with the knob for a second, trying to get his poorly-cut copy of the key out of the lock, before pushing the apartment door open further. It was dark -well, as dark as it could be with semi-sheer curtains- not a slagging thing looking as if it had been touched in ages. Baffled, the kittycon shut the door behind him, locking it again for extra measure, then slowly making his way through the unit. There was a layer of dust coating everything and a peek in the fridge showed that all the perishables within had gone to rot. Add to the situation that Rodimus had still had yet to be seen or heard, and Blackout was quickly transitioning from confused to concerned in less than an astrosecond.
Setting down the bag of groceries he'd bought on the kitchen counter, the panther lumbered off for the berthroom next; fuel tanks squirming anxiously at what he might find. After all, he'd lived it rough all his life- he was more than well aware of what fraggery could happen even in one's own home. Cracking the door open brought a disturbing smell to Blackout's olfactory sensors. Twisting away momentarily at the stench, the brown mech steeled himself with a scowl and threw the door the rest of the way open, marching into the even darker berthroom. First thing he noticed was the stripped berth, empty, in the middle of the room. Then the kittycon's beady optics moved slowly across the room, staring at the massive lump hiding under the missing sheets. Drawing up a corner of one revealed the uneven cluster to actually be the entirety of Rodimus' nursery: tub, diaper pail, change table, sheets and toys...
It was all shoved into one chaotic pile.
Before the thug could think of the implications, his ears caught a sound behind him; whirling about, there remained to be nothing else to see in the dim room. "...Roddy?," he called out again, letting the sheet drop over the items once more and striding across the room. He shuffled awkwardly around the berth, trying to peer into the thin space between the mattress and the wall, feeling his intakes catch sharply.
"Hey?! HEY!," Blackout shouted, shoving the berth -frame and all- to the side with one massive claw, dropping to his knees and closing in on the motionless autodog. Rodimus didn't even budge at the awful shriek of metal digging across hardwood, simply laid half-curled up in a ball, his optics barely online and staring vacantly into nothingness. "Are you okay?! Roddy!"
The smaller mech did not reply. Panicked, the panther tried to rack his processor for some sort of clue as to what to do next, and eventually came to the brilliant notion that he should ensure the golden retriever's function. Clumsy and none-too-gently, Blackout rolled Rodimus onto his back, his frantic gaze finding no injuries even as his claws confirmed something of a sparkpulse along the slender throat. "Roddy, what hap-?" The kittycon bit off at his own question, staring down at the clearly emancipated mech, a soft, lavender rabbit doll gripped in off-colour digits.
The bornling. Rodimus' new-sparked pup... Where was it? The thug leaned back an inch, turning his helm about the room in stunned bewilderment, seeing only the same as when he had entered. Bornling things all thrown into one mess, hidden away as if to forget they exist, absolute silence this entire time... Blackout returned his attention to the limp lawyer, finding his neck cables constrict oddly around his vocalizer as he whispered, "...Where is the pup?"
For a moment, the golden retriever continued to lie death-like beneath the larger mech, before something passed over Rodimus' blank expression and his optics filled rapidly with thick, hot tears. "...g-gone...," was all that escaped the autodog, his near non-existent intakes building in pitch suddenly; transforming into a series of terrifying, choking gasps punctuated every so often by wailing keens that ripped right into the core of the thug. Frightened, Blackout pulled away immediately, paying no attention as Rodimus curled back into himself, clutching that little doll to his chestplates as he howled in misery. Several long, shaky kliks passed as the kittycon paced outside of the berthroom, uncertain of what to do or how to feel.
Rodimus' bornling was gone...
The mech looked at the brown paper bag still sitting on the counter, filled with trinkets and treats he'd bought with the sole purpose of bribing the lawyer into accepting his company again. What he wouldn't have done just kliks ago to get Rodimus to put Ultra Magnus' pup on the back burner... With a disgusted snarl, Blackout slapped the bag off the counter, watching with no satisfaction as its items scattered across the kitchen floor. His momentary rage was quick to subside when he realized no amount of self-loathing or punishment would bring the bornling back. The panther knew this. Rodimus knew it too. That's why he'd stayed holed up in his apartment; starving and covered in his own refuse of who knew how many orns now, while he wept over his missing son.
Blackout realized he had stopped and was staring at his pedes; the autodog's cries had since distorted into desperate, clutching gasps for atmosphere and less like weeping. Similar to some 'bot on the brink of offlining... Should he go? The panther had to wonder to himself, horribly conflicted. Was all this confusion and run-around really worth it? Rodimus was just one autodog- surely he'd be better off chasing after some tail that didn't dump him in situations that he was emotionally unable to overcome! The idea was tempting... but in a strange moment of empathy, the thug removed his coat and turned on the lights to the bathroom; putting soap and sponges within his reach before turning on the shower. As he left the water to warm up, the kittycon returned to the berthroom, collecting the anguished carrier off the floor from a semi-dried pool of filth and cradling him to his broad chestplates as he headed back to the bathroom.
"I'm so, so sorry," Blackout murmured consolingly into a trembling ear as they left the dark room.
Tears were his only response.
xxXxXxx
Over the course of the next few orns, Blackout moved his few possessions into Rodimus' apartment. The autodog did not contest this. After all, how could he? Rodimus still spent most of his time catatonic, breaking out of it periodically; only to recall that his son was gone, dissolve into wretched bawling that lasted for cycles, then have it all fade away back into desolate unawareness again. If it wasn't for the panther being there -to pour cans of luke-warm soup down his slacken jaw and wipe down the autodog's tear-streaked cheekplates- the thug was certain that Rodimus would have become turborat-chow by now.
All the same, this was a difficult situation to find himself in. The brown mech struggled with how to proceed when he knew nothing about what the golden retriever was going through and even less on how to care about another's emotional well-being. Oh, and cooking and cleaning. Those were definitely not... strengths... of his. Step one, Blackout at least could figure out, was not to leave Rodimus alone again. A carrier without their bornling was one of the cruelest realities that could ever exist. The kittycon had known his own share of such 'bots back in the ghettos; they never were the same after and always came to the same resolution- some sooner than others. Blackout was adamant that he didn't want to find the autodog in the newspapers one morning. So, the thug grabbed his things from the pit he squatted in with some other vagrants and made his home on the lawyer's couch. With cable at hand and Rodimus nearby, it was almost comfortable.
And that was probably where the kittycon made his biggest mistake.
Soft, tickling sensations traced across his lower abdomen, causing Blackout to startle awake. His optics unable to process his dark surroundings just yet, he lashed out immediately, earning a shocking yelp instead of the usual squeak of a turborat. "Wha-? You?!," the larger mech spluttered, visual pixels finally adjusting to the blackness. He watched as Rodimus, half-dressed, began to pick himself up off the floor; his blue orbs intense on a blank face.
Trying to decide on what question to ask first, Blackout barely managed to grab the autodog's arms as he suddenly lunged forward, slender fingers attempting to yank the other mech's unzipped pants down. "When did you-?," the panther grunted, a growl escaping as Rodimus put up a wild fight at being restrained. "What the slag do you think you're doing?! You should be sleeping!"
"I'll sleep after," the lawyer replied; the first real words he'd said in orns. His vocalizer sounded off, probably still roughened from cycles of mourning, but it was the way that Rodimus was saying everything that truly disturbed the thug.
"Come on," the golden retriever added, a clear hint of obsession highlighting his otherwise flat tone. "I thought you wanted this. My panels are open. I'm not saying 'no'. Frag me as much as you want."
At any other point, hearing such confidently delivered lines would have had the brown mech jerking out of his pants faster than one could blink, but now... Blackout honestly felt sick to his fuel tanks. "You're not thinking right," he replied, shoving Rodimus back a few steps so he could clamber up onto his pedes. The moment he was free of the other's claws, the autodog flashed forward; pressing himself up against the panther lewdly, one leg curling around a thigh and one servo sliding down the front of the thug's open pants.
"Stop that!" The larger mech hissed, grabbing the lawyer by the scruff of his neck cables and yanking him an arm's length away aggressively. With one servo, he awkwardly zipped his fly back up, giving his pants a little extra tug to make sure they were on his hips proper. "You just- You don't know what you're saying."
"I do, I really do," Rodimus protested, writhing, trying to escape the kittycon's tight grasp. His optics remained brightly lit in frantic desire, roving all over the thug's frame, but always circulating around his pelvis. "This is my choice. Don't you see? I won't be mad. Just, let's do this -you want this, too. Frag me. Overload as much as you want in me. I promise I won't get mad. C'mon!"
There was no heat scent like any other times prior. This unsettling madness to frag someone that he rarely deigned to even acknowledge... Blackout knew what this was really about and it took all of his focus not too accidentally choke the red mech as he wrestled with his own conflicting emotions. "I know what you think you want... What you think I can give you," the panther mumbled, adjusting his grip so he could lift the lawyer off the ground safely while still maintaining their current distance, "But it won't replace your pup. I'm sorry."
One moment, Rodimus was wriggling and persuading like a love-sick fool; the next, he'd turned absolutely feral, spitting and twisting to try and bite or claw where he could. The brown mech did the only thing possible: threw the golden retriever into his room and slammed the door shut, holding it like that as Rodimus went on a screaming rampage on the other side. Several kliks later, the autodog's fit had eventually passed, and in its stead returned the spark-wrenching mournful cries of a sparkling-less carrier. Blackout could only stand there for the next few cycles, listening with nauseating guilt as the tears never seemed to cease.
He'd love nothing more than to have the lawyer swollen with his own bornling, but this was not a solution. It would simply result in Rodimus loathing him even more and another sparkling born into a hate-filled environment. No new spark, especially kittycon, would ever replace the one the autodog had lost. When everything had gone silent, and morning sunlight burned brightly through the windows, Blackout decided now was as good a time as any for a walk. Grabbing both sets of keys and his coat, with heavy shoulders the panther exited the apartment, wondering if he should even come back.
xxXxXxx
Blackout had locked the door and left again. He could tell.
Whining pitifully in the back of his vocalizer, Rodimus tried for the umpteenth time to escape, but he could not budge the panther's rigid barricade still. Shoulder plating and fingers aching, the autodog collapsed to his knees before the pitted wood, whimpering into the door panel. Why couldn't the brown mech just let him out? He didn't want to cause trouble -just one frag is all he needed! Or several. Or however many that Blackout wanted!
It didn't matter to the golden retriever. He just wanted to feel the heft in his abdomen again; bear witness to the thudding of tiny pedes kicking up against his spark chamber. Right now, there was nothing. It was so empty inside... He didn't want to be so hollow...
With renewed passion, Rodimus attacked the door again; breaking the knob in the process with his kicking and ramming, to no avail. Blackout was being so difficult! He wanted this -anyone would want this! If he could only just get out, the lawyer could find easily find this 'anyone' to give him what the stupid panther was selfishly denying the red mech. It was only right after all. A bornling deserved to be within him...
A chill was dragging its way over his frame, undeniable now despite the warmth of the afternoon sun spilling into the room. It gummed up the autodog's motions, slowly drew him to another pause; hugging himself to drive away the worst of the frostbite. He just needed to get this door open. If he could get out, he'd...
"C-come back...," Rodimus croaked, a sob tripping his glossa. He wasn't sure who he was even calling for at this moment, just- "Co-come... b-back..." The golden retriever curled further into himself as the tears swelled in his optics, words disintegrating into broken whimpers.
xxXxXxx
It was grocery orn.
Blackout browsed the super market shelves dully, scanning for anything that seemed half decent of a meal and didn't require any effort on his part. He'd already burnt out the bottom of one of Rodimus' pots trying to cook pasta... Alas, there didn't seem to be much beyond what was already gathered in his shopping cart, so the panther looped back around to grab a couple more bushels of cherries and bananas and canned soups. He only wished he knew more what sort of foods the lawyer liked... Aside from chocolate sauce and onions, Blackout hadn't a clue, and he wasn't going to make the mistake of getting those two items again. The reaction he'd gotten out of poor Rodimus a couple weeks back... The kittycon shivered despite himself, fists curling around the shopping cart handle so tight the metal crumpled. Primus, why did the autodog have to be the one to suffer a lost bornling?
The thug grunted in frustration, heading up the soup aisle. He was going to have to figure something out for Rodimus soon enough too. He couldn't keep locking the red mech in his own apartment every time he left; and he certainly didn't feel like having to sleep with one optic open, afraid the desperate autodog would come for his spike in the middle of the night. Foolishly, Blackout thought Rodimus might have moved on from grieving... Clearly, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. So what could he do, the brown mech thought, loading up his cart and walking on. If he could even find someone to help Rodimus -and not by getting in his pants- where would that put him? Could he still keep around the golden retriever if he was being taken care of by a nut-vet? Would they, or even the autodog himself, allow it?
Blackout paused for a moment, frowning down at the floor. He knew he shouldn't be thinking like that... After all, Rodimus' health was first and foremost! But... But he just didn't want to be shoved aside again, slaggit! He could be the lawyer's rock; he'd already shown that he would stick around no matter what the situation. Rodimus just needed to heal from this tragedy and then he could see that the panther was perfect for him! Well, okay, maybe not perfect per say, still-
The brown mech's train of thought ground to a stop, his optics shuttering in puzzlement. What had distracted him? There it was again... Some sort of buzzing. The kittycon looked around, but he was alone beside the produce stand, and the sound was so soft only to come from close by. Absentmindedly, Blackout padded down his frame; slipping a servo into his coat pocket and withdrawing a cellphone. He had forgotten that he'd taken it from Rodimus the first time he'd caught the frantic mech trying to call someone. He must have slipped it into his pocket and never gave it another thought since...
The buzzing was coming from the phone. Blackout shuttered his optics at the device densely, before flipping open the cover and holding it up to his helm. He didn't even get a chance to grunt out a greeting before a horribly familiar vocalizer was grumbling at him.
"Rodimus, please," came Ultra Magnus' stern words, "This is getting ridiculous. You're avoiding my phone calls, refusing to reply to Blackarachnia's correspondence... I'm just trying to remedy things between us. Stop all of this foolishness at once and come home! Our son -and you know that Hot Shot is mine as well- needs a stable family. If you can promise to reform from this juvenile path, than I'll be happy to grant you more than visitation rights. I shall even-"
The rest of the autodog's sentence was cut off by the crunching of the cellphone. Cycling intakes heavily, Blackout stared down at his shaking claws, his gaze murderous as he studied each fractured piece of plastic slicing his palm.
xxXxXxx
"Magnus not in yet?," Jazz asked, leaning over Optimus' desk.
The secretary sighed, marking the last of his files and setting them aside for sorting later. "He's had a lot of late mornings the last several orns," he replied, looking up at his friend. "I'm growing concerned it may have something to do with..."
"With Rodimus' running off?," the dalmation finished when the other autodog trailed off.
"Yeah," Optimus added weakly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was little joy in it though. "I know I shouldn't blame myself, but since the twins have finished their schooling, I've had nothing but time to keep remembering that day; I keep beating myself up over it each time for not noticing that something was wrong with Rodimus. And with it nearing that 'anniversary', I worry Ultra Magnus might be-"
A loud crash interrupted the german shepherd mid-sentence; the sound of a confrontation, followed by a thud so ferocious it rattled the walls a little, before the beat of stomping pedes rushed in the direction of the pair. Immediately, Jazz moved into a defensive position in front of Optimus' desk, a servo on the taser clipped to his belt. Just in time for a colossal, brown kittycon to round the corner.
"Where's the fragger!," the stranger roared, approaching like a living hurricane.
"Sir, you need to sign in at the front desk and wait for a guide before- Ah, slag this!," Jazz spat, whipping the taser out when he saw the panther showed no signs of stopping.
He aimed and shot, in a fraction of an astrosecond, catching the trespasser dead-centre in the chestplates. There was a pop and a loud buzz as the lines activated, small sparks showing visibly, but instead of stumbling and writhing like most did at the taser's sting, the kittycon only grew more enraged. With a spark-clutching bellow, he ripped the pins free, lunging at the security guard. Jazz barley managed to throw his arms up, yelping loudly when a clawed fist slapped down his guard, followed by a left hook that sent the dalmation slamming into the adjacent wall. Watching his friend go limp, Optimus felt fear overcome his entire frame... and along with it, a clarity he hadn't experienced in a long time.
"Where is he?," the stranger growled, turning to the secretary next. "Where is that fragger Magnus?!"
"Who?," the german shepherd asked calmly, a servo roaming quietly over his desk, just out of sight.
The panther snarled, almost appearing to triple in size as he bore down on the autodog. "Listen you glitch, I gotta score to settle with that rust-stain and if you're gonna stand in my way, I'll snap your scrawny, lil' neck t-!"
The brown mech stumbled on the last word of his threat, staring down at the pen that clattered between his pedes. Three more were quick to join it; two bouncing off his chestplates, the last on his ear. His attention snapping upwards, the kittycon hissed when he saw Optimus standing there stubbornly, a stapler in his servo. This time when the stranger lunged, the secretary was expecting it. He kept his balance as the panther barrelled down the hall, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes at the last astrosecond, legs shooting up and vaulting the larger mech over and into the floor with a resounding crash.
Rolling back onto his pedes, Optimus let his self-defense reflexes take over, whipping the stapler successfully between the kittycon's optics and backing up cautiously as it stunned the other from moving for a few astroseconds.
"You fragging glitch!," the kittycon cussed, fishing inside his coat aggressively. "That cradle-robbing piece of slag is gonna pay for stealing Roddy's pup and YOU ARE NOT GOING TO STOP ME!"
The sight of a gun wiped Optimus' processor clear of any other thoughts; tremors shooting down the german shepherd's spinal struts as the iron muzzle was pointed directly at him. Even his rusty training couldn't protect him from a gunshot wound in an open space with no obstacles.
"I would strongly advise against that unless you have just reason to harm an innocent bystander," a firm vocalizer rang out, startling both mechs.
Hazarding a glance behind him, the secretary was alarmed to find Alpha Trion walking towards them calmly. "Mayor, please, don't!," Optimus attempted to warn. "He's-"
"Armed?," Alpha Trion asked. "These optics may be old, but not so old to mistake a pistol when I see one. Do not fret over me, young Optimus. I don't think our guest will use it -not if he needs help. You do need help... don't you?"
The older autodog was speaking to the kittycon now, his steady gaze causing the stranger to fluster and drop his weapon an inch. "...I got business with Magnus," the panther answered gruffly, eyeing the mayor up and down with suspicion.
"Unfortunately, I do not believe he is in at the moment," Alpha Trion replied, rolling a finger in his long length of beard, "But maybe I can help you with your 'business'; no jail time included. Deal?" It was a long, harrowing wait before the brown mech put his gun away entirely, grumbling something under his intakes as he headed towards the mayor. As he passed Optimus, the two shared a glare.
"Mayor, sir, I really don't think-," the secretary began.
"It's okay, Optimus," the older autodog repeated placidly, smiling at the secretary. "Right now, your friend Jazz needs medical assistant. Please see that he is taken care of. Oh," Alpha Trion added, as he turned to walk away with the trespasser, "If you'd be so kind to not report our guest for the time being, I'd be much obliged."
"...yes, sir," Optimus sighed in agreement after a tense moment. He still did not trust the mayor's decision, despite the other autodog's eccentricities, but he was right. Jazz needed his help; he was priority number one right now. Helping the dalmation to his pedes, mindful of the arm pierced by the taser's prongs, Optimus led them down the hall to the main entrance.
"Hey...," Jazz mumbled, still a little disoriented from the panther's strike, "D-did he say... R-roddy... as i-in, Rodimus...?"
Optimus stopped abruptly, his optics flaring in shock.