Chapter 4
Gears woke up with a dull helm ache, a fixed leg, and his spark acting weird again.
Throughout the whole battle against the Decepticons, his spark felt as if it was pulsing irregularly and proved mighty distracting. He should tell Ratchet right away, and get it all sorted out before anything serious comes of it.
However, when his optics online, what greets him is a cool purple and not the familiar gaudy orange of the Ark.
Memories of what had happened fill his processor, and the mini is up in an astrosecond.
He almost looses his footing cause the berth he'd been resting on is padded. Some treacherous part of him found the material comfortable on his joints, but the thought only lasts a moment. He's not alone in here.
Two seekers, Thundercracker and Skywarp, are standing on the opposite side of the cell (No... Room?) talking in hushed tones.
….And they're blocking the exit.
The purple one notices him first and smiles. Not some egotistical smirk or cheeky grin. It's reminiscent of the smiles Optimus Prime gives his crew after a good day. It's similar to the smiles Trailbreaker, Brawn, and Bumblebee wear when they think they've caught Gears having a soft moment.
He feels a shiver run down his backstruts.
The blue jet simply eyes him with a neutral expression. No hate. No ire. Strange, given the minibot remembered thoroughly annoying the tall mech before Screamer – Wait, wait, wait.
The mini pats his chassis feeling no different than usual. Hadn't they removed his circuit? But he's definitely not stuck in that Unicron forsaken state of unbridled joy. Did they put it back?
"The newspark's fine. Don't worry." Thundercracker says, mild concern in his expression.
This must be a nightmare.
"Who you calling a newspark?" Gears grumbles widening his stance for better footing on the berth. "Your optics must be fried."
The two flyers shrug in response.
As if things could get any more processor boggling, the door slides open to reveal the last member of the trine. Starscream steps inside with four cubes of energon, the other seekers each taking one for themselves, and then places one on the table beside the berth.
The trine sip at their cubes quietly, as they watch the red and blue mini scrutinize the offered cube as well as the rest of the room.
Definitely not a traditional cell by any means, being furnished with a decent berth, a table, two seats, and a shelf.
The energon itself looks fine, cleaner than what he'd expect from the Decepticons… And Gears is lower on energy than he's usually comfortable with. He almost wants to accept the cube.
He might have even done so if this whole situation wasn't completely freaking him out. Everything around him looks and feels so casual and calm. Many would consider the room cozy even, or a very comfortable cell at least.
Gears decides to break this charade, lip plates parting so he can begin his well practiced skill in ranting, when he notices Starscream readying to speak as well.
"How does your spark feel?" the seeker asks, voice less shrill than the mini is used to hearing from the mech.
Even though Gears had been feeling off before the Decepticons took him, he can't help but be accusatory.
"What did you do to me?!"
Primus slag it…. Starscream actually looked guilty. Apologetic too.
The trine leader seems to have difficulty meeting the minibot's optics.
"In my attempt to remove your circuit card, your systems malfunctioned and you entered an emergency stasis." He admits.
Thundercracker nods along as if to confirm his leader's explanation.
All three seekers continue to block the exit, drinking the rest of their energon in a sort of solemn silence (absolutely pitiful expressions worn by each of the fliers).
The nightmare Gears has fallen into doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. So, the mini examines the energon once more, taking a cursory sip before downing the whole cube in a few hearty gulps.
He suddenly wishes he didn't when he sees the three taller mechs watching him, as if fascinated.
Another shiver wracks his frame at their odd behavior.
Enough of that.
"Don't you cons have anything important to do? I mean, if you have the time to just stand around, you might as well put yourselves to good use and repaint this place. I thought the Ark was bad. Too bright on the optics, you see. But this place is dreary. Now I have to strain my optics if I want to see anything. Does every bot want me to go blind-"
As Gears continues to build his rant, their fascination quickly wilts into something close enough to irritation for the mini to start to feel more at ease with this Primus forsaken situation.
Note: Turns out this is probably gonna be my longest fic yet.