Author's Note: Sorry this is coming out so late, school finally ended and I can focus on this story (and work). I want to thank my lovely reviewers for taking the time to give me feedback :) It really means a lot to know what you guys think! They all warmed my heart! Thanks to all the readers, favoriters, and alerters out there, too! And hopefully you all stay with the story. As a side note: this story takes place after Transformers 1, before Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. As much as I liked number 2, I felt there was too many plot holes and I didn't want to mess with that. OH! So it seems I forgot a little thing called a disclaimer; so…
Disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own Transformers and all related characters; Hasbro and Paramount Pictures have all the rights!
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Chapter 2: Pain
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CLANK!
Sam woke with a start; blinking rapidly as someone turned on the bright fluorescent lights to his white cell. Sam turned to look at the large metallic door, glaring at the face that appeared in the small window. It was the face of his 'feeder.' He scowled as the feeder opened a small mail-slot like flap at the bottom of the door and slid in a tray of food. Sam turned his head dramatically away from the door and crossed his arms over his chest, as he sat on the flat cot.
The face looking through the peephole frowned. The feeder reached for an intercom system that allowed him to communicate with the being in the cell.
"Don't make me do it," he threatened as he spoke into the speaker.
"Go jump off a cliff," Sam shot back, his back still facing the door.
Sam heard the feeder grunt through the intercom. "You know the rules, Subject 00472."
"I don't care. I'm not eating."
The feeder sighed, looking at the small device that was hooked to his belt. He didn't like what he had to do, but he was required to do it if the subject was being disobedient. Dr. Goldden's rules.
The feeder unclasped the device and held it in the middle of his palm. The black device resembled an iPod nano, except it was more oval shaped and instead of a menu, play-pause, rewind, and fast-forward circular button, there was a single red button with a white lightening bolt in the middle. His thumb grazed over the red button before pressing it, activating the electro-wave generator.
Pain coursed through Sam's body as he convulsed on his cot. His back arched as if he was being shot with a taser and his arms folded into his body, as if protecting himself. An animalistic wail of pain escaped from his lips. Without realizing, his mind too clouded with pain, he rolled off the cot and landed painfully onto the cold, white floor. Just as the pain started, it stopped, leaving Sam to stare at the blinding lights on the ceiling as he fought to catch his breath. From deep within the confides of his mind, he felt an innocent presence, wordlessly asking if he was alright. He knew it was that heart-bot, he so affectionately named Cardio, but he was so tired that he couldn't even muster up the strength to respond.
"Eat."
Sam remained silent.
The feeder sighed and glanced at the remote in his hand.
"I'll let is slide this time, Subject 00472, but the next time I won't," the feeder said, latching the device back onto his belt. With that, the feeder left without a second glance.
Sam lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath and allow his body to rest from the torture, but his stomach protested rather loudly. He gingerly rolled onto his stomach and crawled over to the tray of food. He downed the cup of water in one long gulp and tore into the bread like a rabid animal. It hurt to eat, since he was used to not eating a lot, but he was so hungry that it didn't matter. He hated when the feeder was around to watch him eat; those pitying eyes staring at him freaked the boy out.
After lying on the white hospital-like flooring for who knows how long, Sam sat up slowly, allowing for the wave low blood sugar induced dizziness to pass. He stood up slowly and stumbled back to his cot, collapsing into the poor excuse for a bed. And once again, he was staring at the fluorescent lights above his head.
Please, someone help me.
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Please, someone help me.
Bumblebee jerked out of a restless recharge cycle, groggy and confused. Ever since Sam had been taken to a special medical facility to treat the radiation poisoning he sustained from the All-Spark, he had been hearing Sam's voice, pained and always pleading. It unnerved the young Autobot. It pained him to know everything the young human had sacrificed to help the Autobots; it pained Bee's spark to think about his human's pain.
His human.
Yes, Bumblebee made it very clear to his fellow Autobots that Sam was his charge and his charge only. He had taken his guardianship to an entirely new level, but he didn't care… Sam was his.
His and only his.
But not seeing his charge for two weeks was beginning to wear on the scout; not just mentally, but physically. Something deep down in his spark told him that something was very wrong… something was wrong with his Sam. And it scared him. He had voiced his concerns to Prime, which prompted his leader to give Sam's doctor a call, but he merely replied with a 'she said Sam is doing better.' Bumblebee didn't believe the woman; he didn't trust humans. Only Sam.
Bumblebee whined softly, sinking lower on the wheels of his alt mode.
Optimus, Ratchet, and Ironhide watched the young scout from across the hanger of the abandoned warehouse. It was hard enough burying a fellow comrade, but now, watching another suffer slowly. It was almost unbearable.
"Optimus," Ratchet murmured, turning to the bot, "we must do something."
Optimus sighed, releasing hot air out of his vents. "I know, but what can we do? Sam is under the care of the humans and Dr. Goldden will not let anyone near her facility."
The CMO's frown deepened. "I don't like this women, Optimus."
Ironhide snorted, crossing his arms over his massive chassis. "I agree. Fraggin' humans; selfish, little barbaric creatures."
Optimus watched his comrades carefully before speaking. "They are a young species, we should not hold that against them."
Ironhide grunted, but didn't say anything. He side-glanced at the scout before looking back at his leader. "Being a 'young species' is not an excuse to be cruel, Optimus. You've seen what evils they are capable of doing."
"Yes, Ironhide, but we have also seen the good."
At this, Ironhide let out a low rumbling sigh. "I'm going for a drive, I need to clear my processor. All this drama with the humans gives me a processor-ache." With that, Ironhide nodded once to his fellow comrades and transformed quickly to a clean black GMC Topkick, roaring out of the warehouse.
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"You better get that freakin' needle away from me! Or I will bite your fingers off!"
"I'd like to see you try, you little lab rat."
"Oh, don't tempt me," Sam muttered, pulling against his Velcro restraints; the pain of his opening sores searing from under the uncomfortable cloth.
The doctor to his left, Dr. Swanton if Sam remembered correctly (but who really cared what his torturers names where; he surely didn't), smiled crookedly as he flicked the syringe with his finger, checking for air bubbles.
"You know struggling will only make it worse, Subject 00472."
"Like I care!"
"Dr. Swanton," mumbled the doctor to Sam's right, who seemed to be checking the computer screen every couple of seconds. "Please be professional. No aggravating the subject."
Dr. Swanton rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no aggravating the subject," Sam repeated in a mocking tone.
The annoyed doctor jabbed the needle into Sam's skin roughly, causing the boy to cry out in pain and pull against his restraints even more. Once the doctor secured the needle, smacked the area roughly, laughing as Sam grunted and flinched in pain.
"Do that again, Dr. McAsshole. I dare you."
Dr. Swanton laughed darkly. "You are a mouthy little brat for being tied up to a table."
Sam's glare deepened, but said nothing. He felt the affects of the poison that was being injected into his arm, making his mind sluggish and this comprehension slow.
"Wha… what a-are you d…do…ing?" he slurred; losing control of his body as it slowly became limp. His struggles stopped, as he couldn't move his body, his head lolling to the side.
Dr. Swanton let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Taking samples."
Sam's eyes became unfocused, but he tried his hardest to stay alert. He felt Cardio again; the little bot's fear slowly seeping into his brain. Sam tried to send back the feeling of reassurance, but he was pretty sure it was just a bundled up mess of emotions.
"S…s…sam…ple…s?"
Dr. Swanton's smiled evilly. "Oh yes, samples of your bone. Seems like they are hardening and we have to test the material." He glanced down at Sam, the smile never leaving his face. "And do you know what that means?"
Sam struggled to form words, his mind and mouth not working well with one another.
"Oh quit your idiotic babbling, you lab rat. It's giving me a headache," the doctor muttered, reaching for an instrument. "It means that we are going to have to drill into the bone."
Sam's heart rate sped up, causing Dr. Swanton to laugh, Cardio to send waves of panic, and Sam's heart to grip painfully.
From across the lab, Dr. Jameson cleared his throat. "Stop antagonizing the subject, Dr. Swanton. I do not want to report you."
Dr. Swanton scoffed and turned his back to the other doctor, rolling his eyes as he did so. "You have no right to order me around."
The doctor's babble continued.
Sam ignored the two doctors' squabble for a few seconds to try to collect his thought, although it was proving difficult with the drugs running through his system. Sam knew he had a connection with Cardio ever since he created the little bot, but this feeling griping his heart at times of extreme emotion; he couldn't place it, no matter how familiar it felt. Hoping it was just an after-affect of whatever he absorbed from the AllSpark, Sam prodded the presence, feeling the fog of his mind begin to clear. Whatever it was, it seemed to help, so he latched onto whatever the hell it was and held tight.
A sound of a drill brought him out of his thoughts. Focusing on the doctor (God, why is this so difficult!, he thought.), he struggled to get away from the massive drill in his hands.
"N-n-no!" he stuttered, struggling what seemed for the millionth time against his restraints.
The doctor leaned over Sam's right leg, where he didn't notice that someone had cleaned and shaved a patch of skin for the procedure. "I promise you, Subject 00472, that this is going to hurt…"
Sam screamed out in pain – hot, blinding, crippling pain – until the presence in his heart gripped so tightly that it began to drain the pain from Sam's body and blocked young Cardio from feeling the pain as well.
Little did Sam know, that somewhere in an abandoned warehouse, a yellow Camaro fell into convulsions of pain.
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Published: June 23, 2012 - unbeta-ed