Salvation

Chapter 6

Human energon was red like Decepticon optics. Mm, and it tasted like bad copper alloy. Who would have thought that so much of it would spurt out of such a small body before the life processes actually stopped functioning?

There was something thrilling about they way that humans came apart so easily and couldn't be connected back together – just like very poorly constructed Transformers. And, of course, no self-respecting Transformer could ever scream like an anguished flesh-beast.

As leverage for a deal involving copious amounts of free energy, Megatron had taken a hostage from one of the large electric companies of Japan. Even though the helpless, mindless insects had agreed to sacrifice a good amount of their generated power to the Decepticons, the merciless tyrant had turned the human over to his sub-commanders for their amusement. Soundwave, as always, seeming to be interested in 'higher things', the disposal had fallen to the Aerospace Commander.

Apparently, Megatron had forgotten completely about his promoting Skywarp to the position – either that or he had never intended to do such a thing in the first place. The power shift was not at all mentioned, and the gun-transformer continued to give commands to Starscream in the assumption that they would be carried out with the seeker's usual measure of loyalty (or lack thereof). So it was to the red jet that the pleasure of dismembering the flesh beast had fallen.

Starscream had taken the unfortunate captive apart with murderous contempt.

He'd been amused by how loudly it wailed after having its shoulder welded to the wall. He'd laughed when a shot from his null ray caused it to cough up red energon and leak translucent fluid from its optics instead of disabling its biological circuitry. He'd cooed in mock-compassion when its epidermal layers started to melt off. He had unleashed all of his hatred onto it, rending flesh and cracking bones, tossing the fragile creature about carelessly; he'd intended to do much worse, but it had expired after he'd torn both of its legs from the main body.

After it had expelled flows of pulmonary fluids from its mouth, he'd thrown it around a bit more until it went rigid and stopped leaking energon. He'd taken a moment to marvel at the death throes and to bend those delicate arms back on themselves once they were stiff with rigor mortis.

He found a glorious excitement in the moment the light left the eyes. It was the same on a battlefield; he liked to be close to his victims, to hear them shrieking and begging for his mercy, to whisper false hopes into their audio sensors, to watch the optics deaden to nothing as he extinguished the laser core...

Silently, he thanked Megatron for the toy, which had been a much-needed outlet for the new disgust he felt at all of the indigenous humanoids on this accursed planet. True, he'd dissected plenty of the little frags before, sometimes while they were still howling for him to stop, but he'd always held them with disdain in the knowledge that they were inferior. He'd never hated them quite so much as he did now.

Because, thanks to the humans, he'd almost lost what was his by right. Because they died so easily, in hundreds, and because their technology and their settlements were not able to stand up to the explosions of even the weakest of Decepticon artillery, Perceptor had tried to leave, feigning guilt at the carnage.

If he had cared to, he would have only driven himself further in fury upon tracing the guilt back firstly to Megatron for dealing such a harsh and damaging punishment compared to the usually much-milder retribution, and then, ultimately, to himself for not being more careful and underestimating his leader's intelligence. In retrospect, he probably should have known better – but the blame did not lie with him. The blame never lay with him.

Even the memory of the stuttering microscope trying to explain that he was too powerless to carry on their games caused him to snarl and bare his teeth, even more so because he could not see why the Autobot's weakness irritated him so much. The most logical reason he could think of was that, after investing so much of his time in the meek scientist, he had hoped that there would be some sort of difference in the personality, some sort of change to take away the ridiculous misplaced compassionate pacifism.

And then he stopped himself, ired more in his confusion when he wondered if he really wanted Perceptor to change.

"Starscream!" Megatron's voice, distracted, distant and detached, dragged the lieutenant out from the antitheses of his cerebral processors to ill-tempered attention. The silver warlord stood in the threshold to the room the air commander had dismantled the human in, glaring approvingly at the blood-soaked officer and the chunks of scorched flesh. "Dispatch your seekers. I want an immediate scramble."

"Coordinates?" Grumbled the jet roughly, riling habitually under the tyrant's scrutiny while idly toying with the remains of the lifeless human corpse between his fingers until its head came off in his hands.

"The head office of that energy company in the east." Megatron nodded his head towards the mortal remains of the salaryman in clarification. "Obliterate it."

And the savage officer smirked as yet another opportunity to distract himself appeared before him, dropping the head to the floor as he straightened to his full height. It hit the floor with a sticky thud and landed propped on one of its protruding audio receptors, the expression a grotesque mask of frozen horror. "With pleasure, Megatron."

O

Although he knew he should have expected such a thrill of sick excitement, as it was not an unusual emotion from his sadistic bondmate, Perceptor still found himself nipping at his knuckle in distraction, wondering vaguely what the Decepticons were up to. He'd known that they were causing some sort of devastation, for Prime had ordered a counter-attack not half a cycle ago, and the select soldiers had hurried away in Skyfire's bulk. He didn't know where they had gone. He was not a warrior and knowing their destination was of little relevance. He just had to be ready to carry out repairs upon their return.

Solitary by nature, Perceptor did not make any attempt to seek out company while waiting to be needed, much preferring the time he had been granted to be alone with his own thoughts. As he'd already compulsively organised both his and Ratchet's surgical implements (the chief medic had accompanied Prime and the defence force, just in case any of them needed urgent battlefield repairs), he had little else to do but to lose himself in his own considerations.

Uncertain about his own motives for sticking by Starscream, Perceptor had chosen to purposefully avoid as many of the other Autobots as he could. While it was true that some contact was inevitable, he stayed for long periods in his laboratory, every now and again resuming work on the aerial propulsion system he had begun to design deca-cycles ago. He'd never finished it, it just lay discarded and out of the way in a corner.

Even when he had little else to do, he didn't really do much other than compulsively disconnect and rewire one of the thrusters, as his mind was entirely elsewhere.

Starscream. Starscream. Starscream.

Now he'd had time to rationalise without being impeded by emotions and spur-of-the-moment impulses, he had drawn several conclusions about the state of his partner, which, in some ways, made it both easier and harder to accept the choice he had decided to stay with. On the one hand, working out what damage the seeker had sustained meant that he could understand why the disagreeable jet acted the way he did and knew how better to help. On the other, it just highlighted the danger that he was putting Starscream in – that Starscream was putting himself in.

The wing. It had been bothering Perceptor. The lack of old damage, the slight mismatch of grey compared to the rest of the Decepticon's body – that it was not the original wing was obvious enough, it certainly didn't need the microscope's intelligence to work that out. From the way that Starscream had instinctively lashed out at the possibility of physical contact, the original limb had likely been lost, and painfully at that. Shattered or shot off, probably.

It was the red optics that puzzled Perceptor more; they did not need to glow anywhere near as brightly as they had. Excess power was surging through them wastefully, he was sure of it – but was that a conscious choice of Starscream's, for whatever unfathomable reason, or had blunt cranial trauma caused the circuits in his head to glitch?

And then there was the problem of Skyfire...

Skyfire. Primus bless him, he was only concerned for Perceptor, and, though the microscope did not want this attention and found it awkward and troublesome, he was quietly pleased that the white shuttle was friendly enough with him to try and help.

Since foolishly allowing his fellow scientist to see his scraped face, Perceptor had become aware of Skyfire watching him much closer than usual. Ha, he'd always been a poor liar. Despite his adamant persistence that he had thrown himself head-first into a cliff face, Skyfire obviously did not believe him. His concern could prove... troublesome.

Above all, Perceptor... felt sorry for Skyfire. The shuttle was in a no-win situation. It was a choice between knowing that Perceptor was lying to him, or learning that his microscope friend was willingly submitting to the vicious Decepticon he had once loved. Perceptor didn't really know which would hurt him more.

Oh... he would never admit it to anyone, least of all Starscream himself, but how Perceptor longed for his mate to just comfort him. Just to chase all worries away, to just be there... even if it was a lie. But that was not Starscream, the Decepticon would never deign to anything less than a predominantly physical partnership.

In truth, it made him question why he was still willing to remain loyal. This journey with Starscream had taken him to the Pit and back, he was risking so much – and for what? What was the relationship, in all honesty? Nothing more than a mockery of what should be, a shadow of reality. An enjoyable lie. A dominance game he played to lose.

But, through all of his doubts, the fact remained that, even though it was strained and unstable and unlawful, there was still a bond there. An indelible, undeniable joining. And, still, he reached the same answer every time, that he would remain Starscream's... just a bit longer.

O

"Take it!" With tremendous force, the cobalt hand clasped over the white-lipped mouth and slammed the microscope's head back into the dirt even as his other hand caressed slowly down the red waist. A slow smile crept over Starscream's dark face as he stared down at his bondmate's wide azure eyes, well aware that Perceptor was trying to speak around the metal obstructing his mouth.

His mood lightened wonderfully by the senseless devastation he had left in his wake while destroying the humans, Starscream almost purred as he held the gaze of those light blue optics. His spare hand trailed over the sensitive solder at the base of the Autobot's examination tray. Perceptor jerked beneath him most intriguingly.

"It's just what you deserve," he crooned, tracing the seams of the angular face with his fingers gently, "for trying to run away from me, hmm?" And he released the lips from his hand only to steal a kiss from them, rough and dominating.

The feeling of Perceptor's barely-there trembling under his touch teasing him to new levels of excitement, Starscream threw his head back away from his smaller partner to let out a shock of exhilarated laughter, digging his fingertips in, smoothing his dark lips with his glossa as his helpless mate arched again.

Tightening his grip until scratches were left, sneering at the grimace that flashed across the emotive white metal before him, the Decepticon lieutenant began to nip at the tender metal by the nape of the microscope's neck. The mild Autobot's optics dimmed.

At first when Starscream had called out and demanded an immediate meet-up, Perceptor had been hesitant, unsure of his ability to escape from Skyfire's watchful optic. However, over two cycles had passed since the return of the defence party to the Ark, and all necessary repairs had been carry out; Skyfire had been distracted talking to other friends. Perceptor made good his chance.

The jet was certainly in a better mood than he had been before, the Autobot not wanting to consider the reason for the sudden good-humour, convinced it was due to whatever had passed at the recent attack. Compared to the injuries sustained by Prime's defence, Starscream was damaged very little; lines of carbon scoring marred his exostructure here and there, but apart from a near-circular laser puncture in the waist near his nosecone there were no open wounds.

And even that injury did not seem to pain him; immediately upon Perceptor's arrival, Starscream had leapt upon him, slamming him down to the ground and beginning to pummel him with blue fists. Perceptor had nearly panicked. He'd even thought of that bomb that still nestled among the seeker's neural nets, considering detonating it and escaping what an irrational part of his mind interpreted as endless anguish approaching.

Then Starscream had kissed him, running his fingers over the limbs he had been hitting, soothing the abused metal and smoothing over the light scraping his rough treatment caused. And yet, before Perceptor could become used to that, Starscream's hand was over his mouth again.

It was a strange antithesis of pain and pleasure, of punishment and reward. He quivered and whimpered; he could do little else. Even if he had coordinated the control over himself to try and push Starscream away, it would have achieved little, for his mate was larger, stronger and had an advantageous position.

In fact, the only thing that was outwardly wrong with the jet, other than the odd mixture of abuse and tenderness (which he had already revealed was because of the Autobot's attempt to leave), was that his eyes still glowed brighter than they should, shining unerringly scarlet. Still Perceptor could not for the life of him work out why that might be.

"You're being very quiet today." Observed the air commander, speaking in a murmur against his partner's cheek. Beneath him, Perceptor shifted uncomfortably, his own grey hands fisting in the dirt; he'd learned his lesson about trying to touch Starscream at the moment. In answer, rather than speaking for he did not trust his voice, his optics flared blazing azure.

Starscream merely smirked at the silence, his fingers closing over the base of the examination tray, dragging across it in tantalising patterns. Practise and experience leant him their gifts; he knew how to make his microscope scream.

"Oh!" Jerking again involuntarily, Perceptor couldn't help himself as Starscream brushed the sensitive plating over his stomach, impulses firing from the wires beneath. "... d-don't stop, I -"

The rest of his words were swallowed by Starscream's hurried kiss; the Decepticon had claimed those lips as soon as he realised that Perceptor was going to keep speaking. He knew that pleasured mechs lost control and he didn't trust what he might hear. He had always stopped the microscope from blurting out like that. Though he encouraged shrieks and preferred his victims vocal, he would still sometimes silence the microscope when the eloquence worried him.

The thought of what could come spilling from the Autobot's mouth unnerved and perhaps even scared him – the possibility of promises of devotion and love was not small, knowing Autobot sentiments, and he didn't want Perceptor to tell him anything like that; it would shatter what little they had. Love was for fools. It had no place in this bond. It never had.

Seeing his mate scrabbling at the dirt with his hands, Starscream growled deep in his throat again, the vibrations passing through his mouth and against his smaller partner. Easing his hold only so he could expose both their spark chambers, he lowered himself onto the Autobot, who tensed and whimpered again. Starscream licked his lips, knowing those whimpers would turn into delicious loud cries at his hands.

Something was bothering him; the feeling of eyes on the back of his head nagging at his cerebral processors. Although it was probably some Earth fauna, Starscream's lack of faith in his own credibility had given him a distinct wary distrust of most everything else, and he found himself looking up towards the bushes in front of him.

A pair of glowing azure optics stared back, half hidden behind thick underbrush, and he started in mild surprise, feeling Perceptor shudder in complaint beneath him as the movement ground their pelvic gimbals together uncomfortably.

As he focussed on the shadowy shape, his sensitive optics making out the harsh outlines of another Cybertronian, the new Autobot's identity became clearer. Starscream grinned in a savage thrill of arousal as Skyfire stared down at the two coupling partners in guarded disbelief.

At the realisation that it was his old lover watching him pleasure his new Autobot pet, Starscream was swept away by a wave of excitement. He thrived on having eyes on him, on having attention on him - a surge of energy passed from into his smaller mate, who bucked beneath him and cried out loud, and the air commander could not help but shiver as his optics locked with Skyfire's. He hoped the white shuttle was hurting, seeing them together like this. To ensure that Skyfire could not mistake the situation as an attack, he made Perceptor shriek again, the jet's name falling from white lips in a most delicious moan.

Starscream was satisfied when Skyfire flinched and disappeared back into the bushes. Moments later, the quiet sound of retreating engines reached his audio receptors; he doubted Perceptor, as oblivious to his surroundings as he was at the moment, had noticed the other Autobot at all. So much the better, he thought to himself as he descended on his bondmate.

That they had been discovered was an unwelcome complication. He could deal with the consequences later.

O

This time, Perceptor was careful to be subtle upon his return to the Ark, making it into his own quarters and carefully smoothing over the dents and scratches to disguise them as battle damage and old scars, though he barely had the energy to do even that small job.

He expelled a sigh of contentment as he crossed the bridge towards the Autobots' supply of energon, meaning to collect a small cube to refuel. Vicious though he had been, Starscream had teased him to the most intense overload he had ever experienced – he'd actually offlined for several kliks – and had then sat with him for a while.

They'd said nothing; Perceptor had still been trying to remember how to work his vocaliser and Starscream had been staring into the distance, his expression completely unreadable.

Eventually, without a word to his mate, the air commander had taken to the air, transforming and disappearing into the distance. Perceptor watched until even the glow of the afterburners had disappeared, then he, too, had returned to his own people.

Perceptor stopped walking as he saw another Autobot moving towards him. It was Skyfire. He gave a weak smile, hoping that he was not about to be interrogated about his well-being, and raised his hand a little in greeting.

Skyfire met his optics for a moment and then looked away, saying nothing as he walked on by.