Title: Cold Sparks

Summary: Sideswipe's thoughts when he and four other Autobots were held prisoner by the Decepticons.

Characters: Sideswipe, Ratchet, Que, Bumblebee; Soundwave, Barricade, other Decepticons; Dylan Gould

Universe: life-action movies

Point in Time: 2011, during the battle of Chicago

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG-13, T

Warnings: violence, character death

They are too soft. Decepticons never just capture. They slaughter. So why are we only prisoners now, not yet dead? Has the traitor Sentinel brought his alleged values with him and turned the 'cons into something soft-sparked? How pathetic. Killing Ironhide without a second thought, but leaving us alive? Could he really be that stupid? Yes, Ironhide has been our weapons specialist, a brute force and the fear of every 'con, dead and alive. To take him out of the equation has been a smooth move, I have to admit. But Sentinel should know we can't be detained forever. Earlier than later we will break free and fight back, and the 'cons have taken only five of us prisoner. Optimus and the Wreckers are still on free foot and will come if not for our rescue, then for the one of humanity. If Sentinel were half as good a Prime as Optimus, he would know that. For his own good: Sentinel should kill us all.

At least someone is fighting the 'cons right now. That it isn't me but that grouchy medic pains me. I have struggled against my guard, only without a result. That 'con knows how to hold a prisoner; I have to give that to him. I scan for the spark signature absent-mindedly, my processor trying to figure out who it is that holds me – if only so I can take revenge on him personally as soon as we are free again. But I end that stray thought immediately. Whoever holds me will be dead as soon as I get free anyway. Besides, I've never been much of a thinker. I love the action, the fierceness of battle and the feeling of superiority that holding another bot's spark's existence in my servos before crushing it brings to my spark. Leave the thinking to someone much better equipped to do so, like Prowl. That analytical processor of his would probably already have come up with a thousand ill-going scenarios. Well, I've always been a more optimistic kind of bot myself. I absent-mindedly wonder if Prowl will ever find his way to Earth, and in what condition the planet will be then.

Ratchet is still struggling and fighting our capturers. He either is more naïve than I thought or just as feared for his strong temper by the 'cons as has been Ironhide, believing reputation will save him from being terminated immediately. Whatever the reason, they don't just pull out the plasma cannons and annihilate him. Lucky for him I guess. Can't say so much about my luck in that regard. A grouchy medic… is a grouchy medic. He'll make my life worthy a trip to the Pit and back as soon as he gets the next chance. That's how Ratchet and I function. And it's good the way it is – even though I could do less without those wrenches hitting me on my helmet every time I get too close to that medic.

"Prisoners? You're keeping prisoners?"

I have nearly forgotten about that worm Gould. The Decepticons' pet. Another pathetic excuse of an existence. He even has the audacity to talk to Soundwave.

"Yes," comes the reply from Megatron's communication officer. That Soundwave even answers him is prove enough of how deep the 'cons have sunk.

"You need to teach them about respect. This was all business, but now it's personal, do you understand me?" At least someone here has the necessary coldness in his spark— heart, whatever, knowing what must be done and willing to see it through. I'd never thought I'd feel respect for a human not on our side.

Cold laughter is the answer; it makes my spark coil in shivers. Soundwave and laughing? When has Cybertron come to an end? "I understand," he says. "No prisoners, only trophies."

The five of us realize at the same time what that statement means for us. But Que is the one voicing our thoughts:

"'Bee, I think they're going to… kill us."

And as soft as they have been before, they turn to action the faster now.

The 'con holding Que says, "You, your time is up."

"Wait, wait, wait! We surrendered! We're your prisoners," Que argues, but he's pulled up and shoved around like the scrapheap he's going to become in a moment.

I haven't known the inventor too well, but I've never seen a more good-natured bot than him. My spark reaches out for him, and for an astrosecond it feels like it's joined by my other half. But the fleeting impression is gone the next instant. Sunstreaker is light years away. Even if he were close to us, he'd never make it in time to save Que.

I want to turn my attention away, don't want to watch, but I can't. My optics are fixed on the scene before me. It makes my tanks churn. I've seen many comrades in arms being slaughtered, but it's never been during an execution like right now. Everyone I've seen dying died in combat, a true warrior's death. Being executed is like never having fought for your freedom.

Que we're about to lose, without hope of rescue. His gentle spark still hasn't given up hope, though. "Can't we talk this out?" he tries again. "We're all a bunch of good chaps! I mean you no—" But whatever else he wants to say is cut off short when the 'con fires his cannon – right through Que's chest. Unbelievingly, his spark chamber is not hit dead-center, but the Decepticons don't wait for Que to recover. They shoot again, and don't miss this time.

Que's life signal vanishes from my sensors.

Next to me, Ratchet bows his head in obvious grief. Has he known Que better than I?

Now in the swing of things, the 'cons seem intent on making short process with us. Barricade marches straight on to Bumblebee. The scout must sense he's about to die, but even now Bumblebee is unable to be impolite; his thoughts still linger with the just extinguished Que. 'Bee's radio searches for a fitting quote and comes up with "Goodbye, my old friend." My spark warms slightly despite the cruelty of the situation.

"You're mine now," Barricade then announces unnecessarily and begins pushing 'Bee around like Que has been shoved, right toward where Soundwave waits with his cannon to execute the final blow. 'Bee struggles and manages to free himself long enough to put a servo onto Que's empty frame in commemoration, but Barricade pulls 'Bee up again. "Turn around."

A small, nearly silent commotion nearby catches my attention. I scan the area and find Sam and that girl of his hiding in a wrecked car. They're watching this? I wonder briefly before my spark drops into stasis-cold: Do the Decepticons know? Inconspicuously glancing around, I realize that – thank Primus – they don't, but I keep my sensors trained on them. Sam and that girl of his will be killed when discovered. Can't let that happen. Even if we die today, at least the humans deserve the chance to survive. Though, without sensors like ours they'd never notice when their cover is blown. They will need me to be their optics and to warn them to run.

It never comes that far, thank Primus. Before Soundwave can execute Bumblebee, one of the battle ships falls down all around us, distracting the 'cons.

Distraction is all we needed, I think with grim satisfaction and leap into action, eagerly piercing the spark chamber of the 'con that has held me prisoner.