The Night Within

By Starath

"No medication can cure what has taken hold."

-- "Haunted" by Disturbed

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Chapter 3

Blackarachnia completed another circle within her growing spider web. She hooked the ends of the circle together with her forelegs, doing her best to look busy.

"So… you took a blow to the head, and it made you crazy?" she finally asked.

Blitzwing laughed. The sound was strange and hollow coming from Icy's mouth, devoid of all humor.

She stopped to glare at him. "I wasn't being funny."

"Of course not." He turned to her, his face stoic. "It is just dot your assumption is so very wrong."

"Oh really? Why don't you correct me, then?"

"I vas getting to it, but I vasn't sure you vere listening amid all your web-spinning."

"I was listening!" she protested.

His monocle-optic pinned her where she hung. "It vas as though my story bothered you."

Blackarachnia scowled in return and hurried to finish two more circuits around her web. She tested each intersection of webbing for solidarity, then crawled down onto the roof. She transformed and hopped onto the web backwards. It creased neatly into a personal hammock. She folded her hands. "Fine. What comes after your big throw-down with Lugnut?"

Blitzwing leaned forward and uttered one haunted word: "Voices."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

"I VILL KILL YOU ALL!"

"Quickly, the restraints! We have to keep him down!"

"He's losing fluids!"

"LET ME UP!"

"Clamp the wound! It'll seal up when we get the plating in place!"

SNAAAAP.

"He's broken it! Pin his arm down, he'll hurt himself!"

"He'll hurt US!"

"Just do it!"

Heavy weight pressed onto his right side.

"YOU CANNOT CONTAIN ME!"

"Slag! I—can't—hold—"

"He needs this or his core processor won't function at all! Minerva, the neural net inhibitor, quickly! Before he throws off—"

CRAAAAAAASH.

"I'm okay! …I think."

"Here it is doctor!"

"Three macro-units to his system, STAT!"

A sharp pain in his left hip.

"YOU THINK… DOT…. vill…."

"It's taking affect, Breakaway."

"…Thank Primus."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

"—we cannot allow you to see him at this time."

"Why? –And why is he tied down?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Look femme, that's my best friend in there and I—"

"Security!"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

"How is his recovery coming?"

"The last chassis reconstruction was yesterday. It would have been easier to give him a new body, if not for the extensive damage to his—"

"I will be the judge of that."

"Of course. Luckily, his nanites are healthy and are working on necessary internal repairs. I have knitted together his armor from the recovered pieces and some new materials."

"Good." A pause. "Remove the restraints. I don't want him panicking when he awakes."

"But sir, the safety of my staff—"

"Is of no concern of mine. Remove them, Breakaway. Now."

"…Yes, Megatron."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Hey, I don't know if you can hear me, but our match was the best fight I've ever had. You and Lugnut went at it like pros. It was an honor to fight you." A light touch on his arm. "Good luck."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Am… Am I alive?

"You must be. Everything hurts."

Ugh… you again.

"Yah, looks like I'm here to stay."

Excuse me as I leap for joy.

"Did you hear vot I heard earlier?"

Huh?

"It sounded like your friend Octane. A gurl told him to leave. He sounded upset."

If it vas him, probably. Oooh, my head…

"You mean MY head."

…Our head.

"Voteffer. Dis is boring. Vy don't you move? Activate your optics? It is dark in here."

Because I hurt. Ve most likely suffered extensive damage because of you.

"Me? Vot did I do?"

You charged Lugnut, idiot.

"Oh."

Ve need to rest.

"Okay. It is varm in here anyway…"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

At first he thought he was dreaming. The image of a slender white femme hovered around him. Behind her the walls were a pale, soothing shade of yellow. A low hum of electronic equipment created a bubble of noise around his head. His vision flickered. His optics came fully online.

The white femme smiled. She faced him after checking on his spark rate monitors. Her lips were full and pouty. Her optics were bright blue. Her alt mode was obviously some sort of car. A red cross was painted proudly on her upper arms.

"You're awake, Blitzwing? Welcome back."

His first reaction was to sit up. He groaned. She pushed him down, gently.

"Don't try to move. I'll get the medic."

She left his line of sight. Blitzwing lifted his head so he could watch her go a moment longer.

"She's cute. I vonder if she vould go out vit' me."

He let his head hit the cushion underneath and draped a hand over his optics. Familiar or not by now, this voice was getting annoying.

Oh, DO shut up…

The inner voice laughed. "Vot? She'd like me. You are too boring."

Need I remind you ve inhabit de same body?

"Not vit'out protest. I cannot express myself!"

He groaned again, drawing out the tone to block out anything further from the voice. Footsteps from down the hall reached his audios. With agonizing slowness he picked up his hand and let it drop beside him. A red and white jet-bot approached him. He focused on the blue visor, then the mech's face.

"Br… Breakaway?"

Breakaway smiled, holding his medical clipboard against the jet cockpit that formed his chest.

"Blitzwing. It's been awhile."

"I haffn't seen you since before—"

"I disappeared, yes. I've been here."

"De police haff been looking for you for months!"

Breakaway sighed. "I know."

For the first time Blitzwing let his optics roam the room. "Vere is 'here'?"

"The Grand Arena Dome Medbay. I've been told you should find this place familiar."

"But you are an Autobot. De Grand Arena is controlled by Decepticons. All of Kaon is."

His friend's face became grave. "Yes. And they are ruthless recruiters. They know how to destroy, not to heal."

"I'm… sorry."

"Don't be. By the looks of things they haven't gotten you. Yet." Breakaway took a breath. "Either way, I'm still doing what I want to do."

"Even if it means repairing Decepticons?"

"A life has its own purpose. Its well-being is mine."

Blitzwing managed a chuckle. "I haff always admired you for dot. So you must haff repaired me?"

Breakaway tapped on his clipboard, scrolling through a data file. "I did, along with Minerva, whom you saw, and Scamper, my medic-in-training. It was rough, but you pulled through. You're a fighter all right. You've been healing nicely for the past two months."

He blinked in disbelief. "Dot cannot be. I haffn't seen anything around me until now."

The medic's visor shot upwards a little bit. He scribbled something on the data file. "Curious. The only explanation could be…" he paused, cleared his throat, and scribbled faster. "… Your nanites probably repaired your optics last, and kept them off to conserve and reroute resources elsewhere."

"Oh," said Blitzwing.

"He's lying," hissed the angry voice within his mind.

Breakaway does not lie!

"No, but he can omit truth."

Groaning again, he ended the mental conversation. Breakaway checked a monitor behind Blitzwing's head. "Are you in pain? Can I get you some medication?"

"No… thank you," he said. "I just need more rest."

Breakaway tucked his clipboard against his chest.

"You may have as much as you want, friend. There is no hurry involved in repair and recovery."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The next time he awoke he felt immensely better. Moving still hurt, though, and he spent an unknown amount of time counting the dots on the ceiling tiles. Hmm. 156. De same amount as de last time I vas here…

Light footsteps announced an arrival. To Blitzwing's delight, Minerva came into view. From the back of his mind, the other, hot-headed mentality willed an arrogant smirk on his face.

"Go on! Say hi!"

"Ah… hi," he croaked, and cringed when his voicebox cracked.

Minerva giggled and went about checking his diagnostic monitors. "You have visitors, dearie. Are you up to talking to them?"

"Visitors? Sure. I had just run out of dots to count up dere." He lifted a finger to point upward.

She patted his shoulder. "I'll let them in, but remember, don't try moving so much."

"As you command," he said, still arrogantly smiling. He watched her swaying hips when she left the room.

"Heh heh. Boy, I vould like to—"

His face immediately went straight. –NOT going to GO THERE!

"Ah, you are no fun."

Within moments, familiar faces appeared in the doorway. The one highest up, belonging to Astrotrain, broke out into a huge grin.

"Hey, Blitzy! How are ya doin'?"

Octane turned and smacked his shoulder. "Quiet, we're in a slagging medbay!"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." He shrugged and stopped at the foot of the bed. He shook the toe of Blitzwing's boot like a hand. "Wow, good to see you, pal. They wouldn't let anyone in til now."

Octane stepped around Astrotrain and stood on the right side. He held his hands tightly together as if he was afraid they might fall off. "We've been worried."

"Well, none of us have been more worried than Octane."

He threw a glare at Astrotrain, who pointedly ignored him. Blitzwing laughed, and regretted it when it hurt. The last mech through the door surprised him.

"Rusty?"

The short Junkion nodded and slipped past Astrotrain, into a chair beside the bed. "Didn't think I'd forget you after all these stellarcycles, did you? When you vanished off the face of Cybertron I wondered if I'd ever see your amazing fights again!"

"Goot to see you too, Rusty."

He slapped his knee, shaking his head. His normally bright yellow optics were pale and troubled. "Never seen someone take Lugnut's atomic punch dead-on like that. You're one lucky son of a glitch."

"If you can call it dot."

"Hey, you're alive aren't you?" asked Astrotrain. "We're just glad you're okay. All they had to do to me here was stick armor plating back on. I heard they had to pry pieces of you off the ceiling."

Blitzwing frowned. "I… cannot remember anything after seeing Lugnut's fist."

"You got blown to—" Astrotrain stopped when Octane growled.

"It was… bad." Rusty said quietly. "The crowd loved it, of course." He bared his teeth. "Bloodthirsty creatures."

"You… Practically landed in my lap." said Octane. "You were hurt bad."

After a moment of solemn silence, Astrotrain spoke up. "Any word on when you're outta here?"

"Soon enough. De medic says more tests need to be run to assure them everything is repairing properly."

"Good! Say, when you're up and running, I'll take you out for a drink or two." When Octane glared at him again, he waved a hand nonchalantly. "No surprises, I promise. I got paid well the other day. We should celebrate your health."

"I'll think about it."

"Blitzwing… do you remember what happened during your fight with Lugnut?" Rusty suddenly asked.

Most of it he cared not to, but he answered truthfully. "Yah, mostly."

"Are you aware that you… changed?"

He tried to sit up, then remembered he wasn't supposed to. "How so?"

"I've been watching you since the first time you stepped into the arena. It didn't used to happen, until after your first stellarcycle. When Lugnut kneed you, it should have been the end. Until you stood up. You've always had extraordinary comebacks like that. But you… you held yourself differently. And when you laughed after making that 'Mount Lug" joke…"

"I heard it sitting among the crowd." Octane chimed in. "It wasn't normal for you."

"It's like you have other selves hidden somewhere. You become them."

Blitzwing felt a chill. "More than one?"

Rusty shrugged. "Maybe. But the point is, is there something we should know about? I've watched a lot of fighters, and sometimes—"

"No," Blitzwing interrupted loudly. When his friends looked at him, startled, he held his breath and shrugged a little. "No… Everything is fine. I am… just edgy and tired. Do not vorry about me."

"It's rather hard not to, from what these two tell me." said Astrotrain. He patted Blitzwing's boot and pulled away. "I suppose we might have worn our welcome. You need rest. We'll catch you later."

Rusty abruptly stood up. "Yeah, he's right. You need your shut-eye. Lemme know if you ever need anything though, alright mate?"

Blitzwing smiled. "I vill."

Octane was the last to leave. He clasped his friend's hand. "Same goes for me. We shouldn't have made you go into the arena. It was selfish of us."

Blitzwing gave Octane's fingers a squeeze. "Do not blame yourself. How could you haff known I'd get so far? Typing at computer terminals is not goot for fighting skills."

Octane finally returned the smile. He let go. "Yeah, okay."

After his friends left, Blitzwing called for Minerva. She sashayed in, but he paid no attention to her curved hips.

"I must speak to Breakaway."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The medic entered Blitzwing's room after an unbearable amount of time. He moved slowly, weary, and his visor wasn't its normal bright blue.

"Sorry for the wait. I was tending to another patient. What did you need, Blitzwing?"

With enormous effort, he sat up and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He swatted Breakaway's hand away.

"I vill sit up if I vant to. I am no longer half dead."

"If you insist," he said, obviously displeased but compliant. He pressed his clipboard against his chest. "What do you need?"

"I vant to know vot you did not say de first time ve talked."

"I'm sorry?"

Blitzwing's optic narrowed. "You know vot I mean. I haff de right to know vot is wrong vit' me." He pushed back the other mentality that wanted to speak for itself. He couldn't help how his voice changed. "Tell me OR ELSE, Breakaway!"

Breakaway's visor lit up to its normal vibrant blue. He fidgeted, as if he suddenly shared the room's breathing space with a monstrosity.

"I am not at liberty to—"

"TELL ME!"

"I have been given explicit orders not to without direct permission."

Blitzwing grated his teeth. His sore body was now terribly tense. Everything ached. "I do not give a DAMN about orders or permissions, Breakaway. If there is something wrong vit' me I vant to know. Ve vill sort out authority matters later."

After a moment, Breakaway glanced at his clipboard and muttered, "He figured you'd do this anyway…" He tapped on the data file and began scrolling through it. "Due to the direct hit you took from Lugnut's punch, your core processor broke apart. By the looks of it, it was already cracked by previous trauma, probably during your past Arena fighter career. We had to piece it together by hand, but we could only do so much and let your neuro-network reorganize and reconnect to your core processor by itself."

Blitzwing leaned back a fraction. "My core processor? How is it I still function?"

"From what we can gather, your neuro-network had already divided itself to handle things when the processor was cracked. Your higher functions have been split up but they appear to be operating normally. This is rare, but I've seen it before. You will be fine in terms of functioning properly. However, there are… complications."

He swallowed. "Such as?"

"Multiple personalities. You've shown symptoms already, based on witness accounts from the last Grand Arena fights… and your behavior here."

Multiple personalities! He almost fell back onto the bed and caught himself at the last instant. "So my processor has been split in two. How fun. Dot explains a lot."

"Actually…" Breakaway scanned his data and cringed. "Not two pieces. Three."

"Three?" he repeated, his voice reaching a sharp pitch. "Who else knows of this?"

"Only the appropriate staff and other significant individuals. Don't worry. We'll take care of you. You'll need a way to cope and it'll be hard, but you'll learn to live with it."

"You speak as though I have a permanently broken leg!" proclaimed Blitzwing. "It cannot be so simple." He stopped and pulled himself up. "Tell no one of this. I vill leave ven I am done repairing."

"Blitzwing, that is not advisable in the slightest. Without a way to express—"

"Tell NO ONE or I am valking out RIGHT NOW!"

Breakaway closed his mouth into a thin line. "Very well. I'll leave you to rest."

Blitzwing hardly heard him. He eased himself down onto the bed, gripping the sides tightly to prevent the world as he knew it from turning inside out.

Three personalities! His logic center must have been cut off from his source of emotions. What did that leave for the third part?

In the furthest corner of his mind, he heard hysterical laughter.

---

To be continued…