A Cybertronian Seeker's death is witnessed by two teens, but they find a strange purple substance in their chest and decide to use it for a trend.
Christian and Stevie exchanged lighters as they walked the edge of the suburbs, lighting their street-bought weed. They were bored and decided to just take a stroll, not that either of their parents cared if they were at least with each other.
It was a warm summer night, and the fireflies were moving about in the fields across the way, perfect time to just dip from their houses for a few hours. No school, no worries, and nothing really happened in the suburbs anyway. They were on their way to a small gas station just a few blocks at the edge of the suburbs for some alcohol to add to the mix.
As they talked, Christian and Stevie both noted a weird noise coming from the woods past the field. They ignored it thinking it was just a small after effect of the weed. A sudden crash in the field had both teens turn to see two Seekers bouncing before one got up fast and snarled. Both were Decepticons and the red one aimed his weapon at the other. The teens drew close enough to get a good view before Christian started recording.
The red Seeker fired, sending the green-striped silver one backwards onto a tree that toppled from the force. Although the tactic seemed cowardly in the teens' eyes, it was still epic until they noticed something abnormal from the silver Seeker. Purple light blared through not just the optics and bio lights but the chest cavity as well. Normally, Transformers didn't have glowing chests, not to mention they soon saw her roar animalistically, almost like she wasn't right in the head.
Everytime the silver Seeker lunged, the red one frantically fired at her trying to keep his distance. Shooting off her arm did nothing but when she drew too close, the defensive Seeker jammed his blaster right into her chest and, with a massive explosion, blew a large hole into the chassis. The silver Seeker went limp with one last growl before he tossed her. Panting, the red Seeker peered around hoping no one heard before transforming into an F-35 and bolting towards the sky.
The teens stared in awe and when the victorious Seeker left, they looked at the dead one with interest. Christian was quick to say, "Dude, do you think we can salvage the parts?"
Stevie frowned, "What parts? They just got blown to smithereens. But did you see how that one was acting? They were a beast, man!"
"Well, since we're here and they're dead, want to get a closer look?"
Stevie paused at first before nodding his head with a wicked grin, tapping his friend's shoulder who was equally giddy. They ran to the silver Seeker's corpse, walking around her to see the extent of the damage. Aside from the obnoxious hole in the chest, there was deterioration on the abdomen and neck. It didn't look like rust exactly, but it didn't look natural either.
"Wicked!" Stevie gasped, examining the twin rockets attached to the arm of the Seeker. He gently tapped them before sliding his hand over the smooth and deadly armored explosive. "They carry around these things like it's just their everyday wallet. Can you imagine carrying a weapon you could spawn on your person out of the blue in a millisecond. I wish my arm could have a blaster or rocket attached."
"And what? Blow yourself up by accident with the wrong gesture? No thanks," Christian smirked.
As Stevie stood up, he caught in the corner of his eye a faint purple glow in the hole of the chest. "Hey, isn't this guy dead?"
Christian looked at him before trailing him in the direction he was peering at and saw the eerie glow too. They both stood still unsure what to do when Christian whispered, "Maybe we should go, man."
Stevie gestured to stay calm before climbing up the body, much to his friend's unsettled behavior.
"Stevie, dude, get down!"
"Wait a second. I'm just going to look."
When he walked on the edge of the chassis, he slowly peered into the damaged chest and saw a bubbling purple liquid with faint steam coming up from it. It didn't look like blood but neither did it appear like it belonged. Stevie was about to reach down to touch it when Christian whacked his hand away.
"You're just going to blindly touch it?! Safety first," the blonde-headed teen stated as he emptied a hidden flask on his person and handed it to Stevie. "I pay attention in science class."
The brunette teen merely rolled his eyes and dunked the flask in the unusual liquid. Surprisingly, the purple matter slid right off the exterior with no problems. Stevie snickered, "Doesn't look that dangerous to me. What's got you spooked so suddenly?"
"I don't know but something about that stuff just isn't sitting right with me. Spare parts, not a problem. That...that seems wrong."
"It'll be fine."
When Christian was about to speak some more, they heard a voice call out, "Who's out there?"
A flashlight appeared in the backyard of a house nearby and the teens were quick to scramble out of the crime scene. Running through the field and to a fenced property, they leapt over as quickly as possible before sneaking back onto the street. Making sure no one was following them, they walked almost half a mile to an abandoned building in Bayview Hill, a popular section filled with drugs and broken cars. It was their getaway when in danger.
Making sure no one was using the place for other activities, they settled on the level just below the rooftop in a nook of old piping and missing walls. Setting the flask down carelessly, Stevie smiled, "What do you think we should do with this stuff? Sell it?"
Christian sat on the old, stained couch in the corner next to a broken pipe. "For what? Nobody's going to buy something they don't know. Hell, we don't even know what it is?"
"Transformer blood possibly. I know someone in Bayview who could turn Energon into lava lamps, selling them for fifty bucks each. We could have her make one out of this and then turn it around and sell it for five times the price from the rarity of the color."
"Assuming it's Energon. We don't know if it is."
Stevie eyed the flask before pursing his lips and taking it back in his grasp, unscrewing the cap with little emotion. He brought it close to his nose and got a whiff of the scent. "Huh, kind of like aerosol with that asphalt after smell. It's not bad but I don't know. What do you think?"
He capped it and threw it across the room to Christian who caught it before opening it again. The teen made a weird face and said, "Smells more like bad weed that got turned into a fake air freshener."
Stevie laughed, "Dude, Connor got high off Energon with a bong the other day, he combined weed with it and said it smelled like citrus mixed with oil, and the weed made it extra tangy. He said it was the best high he ever had. Usually, hitting the bong just made him come up with concepts for his songs at random. Hitting the Energon with weed though? He said he was finishing all his WIPs for his music in less time than ever before."
"Once again, that was with Energon. We don't know if it's Energon."
"Using a bong on it wouldn't be the same as drinking it so if Energon can be used, gasoline and oil have been a thing in the past to get high when in doubt, I don't think that's going to kill us and if it's bad, we can just stop. Just add water with it too if you're still unsure, won't hurt it."
Christian tilted his head studying the glow within the flask and shrugged, "Guess you only live once."
Stevie smiled, "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!"
As they got the bongs they often hid in a hole in the wall, Stevie placed half the supply of the purple liquid in one and the other half in the second. As they used the rest of the weed, Stevie and Christian lifted their bongs as a toast while sitting beside one another. Lighting it, they inhaled the smoke of the weed combined with the potency of the liquid.
Stevie gave a brief coughing fit and winced while Christian merely blinked in surprise, blowing the smoke out unsure. The former still cracked a smile despite the rough start. "This is like if Dracula hit the pipe, man. Wow, that's some dense ass shit."
Christian waved a hand over the bong. "That's strong. I feel...better though."
The teen's comment was ignored as Stevie didn't hesitate to go back in. But Christian set the bong aside.
"I think one's good enough. Like that's God-level stuff right there. It's like all my problems melted away in my mind. I'm saving the rest of that. At least I don't think it goes bad after several hours. I'm like awake awake, let me tell you."
Watching Stevie continue to hit the bong repeatedly without pause made Christian's brows furrow. He had seen plenty of people immerse themselves in it but not that much that fast. Stevie kept his eyes closed, never opening them and the purple liquid seemingly glowed brighter after each inhale.
Suddenly, Stevie dropped the bong and it shattered against the floor as he started convulsing. Christian immediately went to his side and yelled out his name. He had seen people faint or have panic attacks, the opposite of what weed was generally supposed to do, but never had he seen, let alone heard of, overdosing on it. It must have been the purple substance.
Stevie's eyes were rolling into his head, the veins of the sclera were visibly tainted off-color from normal red. Christian was scared, unknowing of what to do. If he called 911, they would arrest them. If he called either of their parents, they would be in huge trouble.
"Come on, Stevie, snap out of it! I'm here! You're going to be okay, okay?!"
Out of options, he hugged Stevie close hoping the seizure-like symptoms would pass until he felt something slimy running down his back. He pushed Stevie upright from his shoulder to see purple saliva and foam bubbling down the teen's chin. Smoke inhalation didn't do that either...
A sudden final gasp from Stevie startled the other and the teen collapsed back lifelessly. Christian was frozen on the spot. Even though high on the same substance, he was alert entirely to the situation and frightened just as much.
"Stevie?" When his friend didn't respond, he jumped up and paced frantically.
How was he supposed to explain this to anybody? His friend overdosed on drugs and Transformer's blood they weren't even meant to have, burying the body would make him a prime suspect to Stevie's disappearance, and no one would probably believe him if he told the truth regarding the weird purple liquid.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no," he whimpered, gripping the back of his head.
He paused when he heard sizzling and peered down to the floor. The remnants of Stevie's bong, the purple liquid, still bubbled despite being without a heat source. Then he noticed the floorboards were cracking dark purple out from the main puddle like spiderwebs, scarring the wood with a hiss. The glass had the same designs over it pulsing and Christian kept staring at it concerned.
Stevie's body suddenly gasped again, and Christian almost tumbled over the cheap table horrified. He watched the veins and arteries slowly becoming prominent across the paling skin, jutting out inflamed and spasming. Abruptly, Stevie's eyes burst open...but they were purple. Christian kept his distance as Stevie buckled forward and threw up nearly the same liquid which hissed upon contact with part of the table and more of the floor.
"Stevie? A-are you...?"
Stevie suddenly glared at him; his pupils were still dilated yet alive. All he did was wheeze with the purple substance leaking down to his shirt and pants. Blood ran down from his nostrils a sickly dark purple, nearly black.
As Christian watched the possessed eyes track him, he held his chest wondering if he would die as well and be reanimated into whatever Stevie was because he knew for a fact that was NOT Stevie. Yet he had inhaled the same substance? Stevie's abuse of it must have driven the dangerous chemical into overdrive.
"Stevie, buddy?"
He saw Stevie's lip curl and ran as the walking corpse of his friend lunged at him. He maneuvered through the old building towards the stairwell when Stevie chased after him, banging off a wall at high speed with no sound of pain or discomfort. That was inhuman. He was nearly there when he tripped and fell through the floor. Wood gave way and he hit the floor below in agony, clutching his back almost in tears.
His moment of getting over the pain was quickly cut short as he heard a snarl from above. The purple liquid dripping mere inches from his face onto the floor as Stevie peered down at him through the hole. His friend's hands were bloody gripping the broken floor when jagged wood remained, but Stevie looked unbothered.
Despite the searing flares of his spine, Christian ran off as he heard Stevie jumping down. The sudden weight of Stevie's body caused the same part of the floor he landed on to give way as well. But the corpse was smart and clutched the edge, bringing himself upright dragging his nails to get a better grip without noticing them breaking off and bleeding heavily, leaving blood marks on the wood.
Christian hid in the farthest room and immediately dialed Connor. When the phone was answered, he immediately said, "Connor! Connor! Stevie is alive b-but not himself! When you smoked the Energon, did you-?!"
"Hey, Christian, this is really not a good time," Connor said with a tired voice.
"What's wrong?"
In a wheezing, defeated laugh, Connor replied, "I'm in the hospital, dude. Energon tore up my lungs. Doctors said I have permanent respiratory impairment. He couldn't identify what type because, you know, alien substance, but the lungs have been clotting. Been on intensive treatments and constant watch. It's funny. I felt so alive one moment liking nothing could ever hurt me; my mind was clear for once. All my ideas came rushing in without any doubts or stresses, and I was making music. The next morning, I was coughing up blood..."
A beeping over the phone and several strained breathing noises made Christian look at it unsure if Connor hung up or was pranking him until he heard the panicked voices of nurses and doctors talking in medical lingo. Something about a "Code Blue."
"Connor?!"
"I'm sorry, your friend is unable to talk right now. We must cut this conversation short," a strict voice said on the other end of the line much to Christian's dismay.
The phone was hung up on their side and Christian's phone was dropped in shock. If regular Energon destroyed the lungs that fast, then what the hell did they take?
A crashing noise made Christian flinch as he heard Stevie growl before coughing up more blood. The splattering sound on the floor almost had Christian gagging. The more he listened, the more he realized Stevie was still dying. It seemed the boost of energy Connor had gotten was present here, but Stevie was burning through the excess energy and remaining life. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed again.
Christian could feel his adrenaline through the roof with the aid of the purple substance, not enough to kill him but perhaps outlive Stevie. He made an executive decision and ran out of his hiding spot to jump kick Stevie into a moldy sheetrock panel on one of the walls. He laughed a little, thinking that initially the move wouldn't work. On his feet in seconds, he watched Stevie struggling to get back up.
"Sorry, Stevie!"
He ran back upstairs in the hope that Stevie would think he went down but the scuffling below made him second guess himself. He looked for anything he could use to defend himself. Scrambling through the collective junk they had, or other people left in the room, he found nothing of value to his predicament.
An inhumane bellow made him turn quickly and he grabbed Stevie by the neck as he was pushed down. Stevie was on him, bloody hands grabbing at his shirt while liquid from the mouth made Christian gag as it slid off his clothing, leaving a slimy trail on the material.
He didn't know if Stevie was trying to bite him, kill him, or maybe both, but he refused to let go of the tense neck as purple eyes furiously glared at him. When Stevie's grip let up for a brief second, Christian grabbed the nearest object. Ironically, he felt no regrets as he smashed a shard of glass from the broken bong right into the other teen's eye. Using the cry of pain as a distraction, he pushed Stevie off completely.
Christian got up fast and took a defensive stance as his friend growled with the purple liquid pouring out of his eye now. Stevie's skin looked horrifically pale than it did several minutes ago. The body must have purged most of his blood as the veins and arteries were lighter in color than normal.
"Stevie, I don't want to hurt you!" Then he noticed the broken water pipe next to the couch and frowned, "But I will if I have too."
Stevie twitched before running at him, but Christian didn't run away. Instead, he sprinted towards his pursuer and punched Stevie in the head before kicking him backwards. The corpse stumbled back and fell. The sound of ripping flesh and broken bones made Christian freeze as he was forced to look at the pipe now sticking out of Stevie's chest. Remnants of the heart were visible, but Christian refused to acknowledge it.
To his surprise, Stevie was still alive, moving his arms to grasp the pipe with a small, bubbly choking noise. It took almost thirty seconds before the arm went limp and he bled out entirely, the puddle of blood very tiny for such a gaping wound. The haunting purple eyes were back to their regular color. Stevie looked like he had just simply fallen, not been a rampaging zombie a moment prior. Christian kind of preferred him that way.
It took Christian nearly an hour to figure out what to do. Nothing good could come of this mess and he knew no one was to be trusted with the secret. Stevie's parents would most likely blame him for Stevie "running away." Better than believing he murdered him in defense. He didn't have a solid excuse and still couldn't understand what happened. It seemed unreal.
At one point, Christian eyed his untouched bong still sitting with the purple eerie glow within. He couldn't let anyone hurt themselves with it, never again. He felt some relief when he grabbed it and angrily threw it across the room. Watching the decorative glass shatter and the substance remaining in the corner far from him was enlightening.
Walking home was like taking the walk of shame. He had no friend, his weed was gone, and the Seeker in the field was surrounded by police. He didn't even notice his mother hugging him in worry running up from the block. She looked concerned at his lack of expression and the faded purple staining him. He didn't have the heart to tell her. Everything seemed surreal, and he loathed each step to his house.
The next morning was arguably the second worst day of his life.
Christian was in tears on his bed, both from the loss of his friend and the agonizing pain within his chest. He took water, any over-the-counter pain relief, cough medicine, and various medicine tricks on YouTube. Nothing seemed to work.
Throwing up blood, the same symptom Connor had mentioned, alerted him that this was not an ordinary illness. He wheezed, eyes wide as he could feel his heart being squished by the inflamed, struggling lungs. It got so bad where he couldn't move. At some point, he heard his mother coming up to wake him and he collapsed face first in a puddle of blood on his bed unconscious. He barely heard her screams.
When he awoke, the steady beeping of a heart monitor was present, the horrific noise making him remember that he was lucky to be alive. He gulped the saliva down his dry throat, closing his eyes with a quivering lip. He wasn't hurting now but he knew what was coming if the drugs in his system were no longer available.
Seeing his mother in the corner of eye talking with the Cybertronian doctor in her long john pajamas and KISS shirt, uncaring how unkept she looked, made him smile. But she looked frantic, almost crying as the doctor kept shaking his head trying to explain the situation. It was concerning to him; what had he done? His stepfather was equally distraught.
A human nurse came through the door and then he heard the conversation.
"What do you mean?! He'll get through this! He's strong; I know it!"
"Mrs. Peterson, this is the thirteenth case of Energon inhalation. But unlike the others who will live the rest of their lives with lung problems aside from two who passed due to other complications, your son's lungs are far worse than any of theirs, and they had blood clots and a highly unusual and resistant case of pneumonia. Some had lung transplants but the Energon remaining in the system still infected the new organs. This doesn't look like the other cases. In fact, I don't know what type of Energon he inhaled but your son's body, not just the lungs, is infected with something tearing him apart molecule by molecule. None of our specialists know why or how it's doing this...or how to stop it."
His mother placed both hands on her mouth, scared and terrified. She cried, "Wha-is there nothing you can do...what about chemotherapy?! I-I don't have the funds, but I'll take out a loan and I swear I'll take two jobs to pay it off. Please..."
The doctor sighed sadly, "This unfortunately isn't like cancer. Chemotherapy for anything other than cancer or a few selected illnesses will destroy your son's white blood cells and this infliction will just go faster in killing him. We don't know what this is. Energon toxicity has been consistent in the others; this isn't showing the same signs. There are over thirty different types of Energon and most of them we don't know how it affects any organic lifeform if at all the same way. He's dying and his body is going to suffer the entire process. The best we can do is offer palliative care to which we don't even know how long it would take for him to pass. Could be a week, could be an entire year of nothing but pain and misery as he deteriorates."
His stepfather held his mother as she sobbed into his shoulder. The doctor rubbed his neck unsure of what else he could tell the grieving parents.
Christian himself was heartbroken. A stupid decision led to two deaths, one on him and one to come because of him. Then he remembered the Seeker in the field. The other one was so determined to keep the dangerous one away that they killed them. What was the purple stuff? Energon? Didn't seem like it. But it didn't matter now. The damage was done.
Christian merely lied there staring at the ceiling as the nurse changed out the bag of liquid keeping him from feeling the damage itself. Even when his parents came to visit, he had no choice but to lie there in waiting for the inevitable as doctors and nurses struggled alike to figure out what was killing him. But if Stevie could come back to life, would he?
His question was somewhat answered when he overheard the nurses saying the two that died were swiftly cremated, prioritized over many other deaths that had occurred before them. One was a 19-year-old scholarship valedictorian from Slums and the other was a 17-year-old teen musician from Bayview.
He sat with that information, even through the various bouts of respiratory attacks and organ failure that threatened him daily while specialists poked and prodded him for answers. He assumed they found out finally as many of the doctors' demeanors changed to where he was almost managed like he had the plague. But still no cure or treatment was issued, but maybe there was none for what they found, or he was finally too damaged beyond repair.
His parents were acting as if he had died already, Stevie's parents were cold and distant the few times they visited wondering what happened to their son. He was still so afraid to tell them, not that they would believe him. He was better of just saying the partial truth with extra context: he killed Stevie.
The term Code Blue was pretty much all he heard shouted, and he familiarized himself with it and all it covered. He assumed the nurses and doctors eventually got tired of him because he was tired of himself every hour of the next five months. He still never found out what that purple liquid was.
AN: Ever wondered what Energon would do to a human body? Well, in reality, it would probably be very devastating even if you didn't smoke it from a pipe. I would say don't do drugs but I'll change it to this: be careful what you take and understand the consequences that can potentially happen. It may be your escape but to others, it may be a total nightmare.