Till Death
Jan. 2nd, 2012 06:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joules_burnTitle: Till Death
Rating: R
Verse: G1/Shattered Glass
Genre: Horror
Characters: Skywarp, Thundercracker, Protectobots, Starscream
Warnings: Disturbing images, implied torture
Other Notes: The verse is a bit mixed up, and somewhat unimportant.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
competition_fun, and won me first place for that month! :B
This didn't really end up as scary as I'd wanted it to. I wrote this back in October, the morning it was due. Honestly, I had a lot of ideas about what led up to it and where it could go. I've probably forgotten all of that by now. The 24 hour cooldown passed a long time ago. I'm too embarassed to even read it.
It was an indiscernible sound that woke him; brought him back online with barely a processor to function with and nothing to see but stark, sleek walls. The dark was suffocating; the sound of his own functioning machinery too loud as he strained to try and pick up on whatever had brought him online with such a sense of dread.
“’Warp!” a voice croaked, low and quiet.
The seeker sat up quickly on the small recharge berth he was on and looked around the empty room in confusion, “TC?”
“Can you hear me?” The voice called again and Skywarp was on his feet. That was definitely Thundercracker’s voice. He’d know that voice anywhere. He ran his fingers along the wall, walking a circuit around the parameter. It wasn’t a large room, only five paces from wall to wall if he stayed close enough to scrape his wing along the surface. His fingers traced the edges around, once, twice- searching for any sign of a hidden panel. It wasn’t the first time he’d been locked up.
On the third time around the room, he stopped as soon as he caught sight of stasis bars. That hadn’t been there before, and he’d almost shocked his hand on it before he’d realized it was there. The rest of the room looked exactly the way it had before and he hadn’t heard the sound of opening blast doors.
“’Warp!” Thundercracker exclaimed again, with soft desperation that made Skywarp’s sensors prickle with sensitivity. He could see him, just beyond the bars, curled up on the ground against the wall of the adjacent cell.
Skywarp crouched as close to the stasis barrier as he could, barely wincing as he saw the hole in the other seeker’s fuselage, the jagged rip where a wing had been. Thundercracker was still sitting up, clenching his hands where they rested against his drawn up knees, trying to distract himself from the pain.
“You look like slag,” Skywarp said nervously, earning himself a tired glare from his wingmate, but nothing else. The silence was oppressing, made him want to chase it away. Didn’t want to have to watch Thundercracker shake with pain, “Well, not too slagged. You’ve been way more slagged before-“
“’Warp.”
“-we just need to call Hook, or even Screamer. Screamer will help if he has-“
“Warp!” Thundercracker winced, shaking a little harder before he could speak. “This isn’t our brig.”
“Autobots?” Skywarp asked, sitting in front of the bars when he saw the confirming nod. “Oh, slag. We’re weaklings.”
Thundercracker laughing about that should have really made him madder than it did. “Wait,” Skywarp said, “We can get the goody Autobots to fix you up. Hey! Hey, Autobrats!”
“Stop!” Thundercracker hissed, looking at one of the walls worriedly, “Warp, stop! These aren’t like the Autobots we know.”
“What do you mean?” Skywarp asked.
“They-“ Thundercracker began, but stopped at the sound of footsteps. Other than the stasis field between their rooms, there was no other door and the sound seemed impossibly loud through the walls.
“They’re monsters, ‘Warp,” Thundercracker whispered, and the wall across from him rippled like water and a hand came through it and Skywarp was already on his feet with a surprised yell.
“They're coming.” The fear was evident in Thundercracker’s voice. It was almost worse than the sight of the mech that had stepped into the blue seeker’s cell. The lights flickered and dimmed, making it hard to see his colors, and there were things jutting up from his shoulders that waved around his head without joints. Glinted like metal but moved in ways that metal could never move.
Then another mech moved behind him like a shadow, and this one’s feet fell without sound. The first had burning red optics, but this other had no light coming from his optics- if he had any. There was just a black shadow under the sharp juts of a helm.
Just the sight of something so unnatural made Skywarp step back further into his cell, a false sense of security. The one with glowing optics stood in front of the stasis field and looked over him with an angry scowl that Skywarp would normally challenge. But he couldn’t stop staring at the strange, waving shapes at his shoulders.
“Got a problem?” it asked, and the shadow mech behind him mouthed the words wordlessly with him, leaving Skywarp speechless. “I don’t like having my time wasted,” it continued. The dark mech grinned, dark oil spitting out between his denta.
“The frag are you!” Skywarp demanded, squaring up defensively, ready to attack the mech if they tried to come close.
“The names Blades,” he answered, laughing and coming close to the bars. The teleport stared back defiantly, “And don’t think I don’t see you flaring your wings at me, Decepticon.”
“You’re lucky you’re on the other side of these bars, and not out here where I can get my servos on you.”
Thundercracker screamed. The shadow mech had moved, fallen on him, and every punch sent energon flying. Dark fluid fell to the ground and hissed like acid. Skywarp jerked, looked between both enemies, “Stop it!” he screamed, throwing bravado and his own fear to the wind.
Blades just tilted his head, grinning a little further in amusement. Didn’t look at the sound of ripping metal and spattering fluid. “Stop what?”
“He can’t defend himself!” Skywarp cried, shocking a hand as he tried to reach through the bars, started to claw at the wall. Trying to peel back the paneling. Trying to get to the circuitry underneath. He’d short his arms out if he had to. If it would let him save his wingmate.
The red mech still stood, unfazed, flipping up a panel cover on his side of the wall. “You really are a stupid one,” he remarked, while Thundercracker was torn apart behind him.
Then Skywarp was on the floor, fighting to keep his systems online, growling curses and insults as he stared past the red mech’s pedes. He could barely make out the blue of Thundercracker’s paint job. Could only look at the broken shards of yellow canopy glass. His vision was fading, the shadow mech turned and there was a glow from his face now. It wasn’t the glow of optics, but of energon.
Its voice was a whisper, barely recognizable as words as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“…don’t scream.”
Skywarp could barely move when he came back online, optics glowing dully. He was still on the floor. Still staring out of the bars. Thundercracker was watching him, sitting in a puddle of his own energon. That made him jerk, he’d been trying to sit up and only managed to fall to the side, making his wing groan from the pressure of his own weight.
“’Warp,” Thundercracker called quietly, grimacing at the effort it took. “Can you hear me?”
Trying to get onto his knees, Skywarp’s hands caught and tugged, stuck. There was his problem and the source of his processor ache. Stasis cuffs. “’Crackeeer,” he tried to reply, half drunk with relief, the sound muffled with his mouth against the floor. But he managed to get onto his knees, even if he had to use his head to do it.
“I hate these things,” Skywarp complained, squirming until he’d managed to get to the edge of the wall, near the stasis field. He leaned his helm against it, so he could watch Thundercracker without getting shocked. He didn’t trust his balance with the cuffs on. “You look like slag.”
“So do you,” Thundercracker returned, leaning his helm against the wall.
“At least I didn’t leak lubricants everywhere,” and when Thundercracker managed to look affronted by the insult, he started laughing before lowering his voice more seriously, “What happened?”
The remaining, whole blue wing shrugged slightly, “That stun pulse took me out, too.” But not the Autobots. It was an unspoken truth. No mech should have been able to stay online through a pulse that strong.
Skywarp wanted to ask how he’d survived. Why that gross mech hadn’t killed him. Instead, he asked awkwardly, “How are your levels?”
Another shrug. “I can barely see through all the errors,” his optics dimmed, “But I’m still online.”
Another ripple along the wall, and Skywarp froze, waiting tensely. But nothing came through that strange wall and suddenly, the stasis field flickered and went out. They looked at one another in confusion.
“It might be a trap,” Thundercracker whispered, tried to move. But he was too damaged, and jostling his injuries only made his entire frame clench in pain.
Skywarp looked up at the field frame, and slowly, slowly pressed his helm forward. There was no shock. They were really gone. “What should I do?” he asked, uncertain. Not wanting to be the cause of any more attacks.
He felt it, then. A flicker of spark energy. He fell, when he turned too fast to compensate, hitting the ground painfully as he rolled onto his back and looked around. There was nothing there he could see. But he’d definitely felt another mech close to him.
“’Warp!” Thundercracker choked, “Get out of here!”
He felt hands touch him, pulling him up onto his feet. He screamed, kicking and flailing despite the cuffs and fell when they let go. “Something’s touching me!” Skywarp howled, pushing himself backward along the ground, mindless of the gouges he was scraping into his frame.
A weight pressed down on him, held him to the ground. He screamed insults at it, and it seemed to become even angrier. There were hands. Hands pressing against his kneck, and a weight grinding into his canopy. He struggled, tried to fight, but the stasis cuffs left him weak and he couldn’t see weaknesses to try and take advantage of them.
Another set of hands now and he was hauled to his feet, dragged. The more he struggled, the more they pulled, until he lurched forward and was pulled off the ground entirely, his limbs left to dangle, useless. It was the most unnerving thing he’d ever experienced in the vorns he’d been alive.
“’Cracker!” Skywarp cried, tried to twist back to see if anything was happening to him. He didn’t see when he was pulled through the wall, just knew that he was no longer where he had been. Cells lined the walls, the glow of stasis fields seeming to go on forever down the hallway he was being carried through. He kept struggling, but it was no use.
Skywarp wasn’t used to fear. Not like this. Not so strong and thick that he could barely form a functioning thought. It seemed like forever before he was put back onto his feet in front of a blast door. He tried to look around, fans spinning frantically to keep him from overheating, and caught sight of another pair of wings. The color was off, seemingly white in this too bright hall, but there was no mistaking the face.
“Screamer,” Skywarp hissed, and Starscream’s helm turned slowly, haughty optics looking back at him dispassionately. He was also standing in front of another door, but there were visible mechs standing on either side of him, holding him in chains. He tried again, “Screamer!”
Dispassion turned to annoyance and Starscream turned his face back towards the door with brave defiance, “You should be worried about yourself,” he hissed back.
Skywarp’s own door slid open, and before he was pulled inside, the world went dark.
“’Warp,” a voice called to him, greeted him back online yet again. “Can you hear me?”
“TC?” Skywarp asked, looking up blearily. He tried to move, and couldn’t. Tried to sit up, but was stopped. There were chains on his wrists, his ankles, keeping him pressed down on the berth he was laying on.
“I saw Screamer,” Skywarp muttered.
“How’d he look?” Thundercracker asked.
Skywarp grinned, lopsided and tired, “Still ugly.” The fight had left him now, he felt light headed, but fought off the desire to recharge and turned to look towards his wingmate.
Thundercracker was there, on the ground against the wall, energon dribbling slowly out of his broken cockpit. Skywarp felt dull concern, flatly muttering, “We’ve got to save you.”
His wingmate looked back towards him, optics dim, and smiled grimly, “I think it’s too late for that….”
“Fragger acted like we weren’t even there,” Blades complained, loudly while Groove was busily buffing out the scratches he’d received from the scuffle.
“Please don’t hold it against him,” First Aid said, watching the dark seeker through the monitor on the wall as he muttered insensibly.
“-Hook can fix you up, TC,” Skywarp was saying towards the wall, optics barely online.
First Aid looked away, venting a sigh through his vents. It was very difficult to see a mech so in need. He’d been attempting to figure out what was wrong with the seeker since he’d been imprisoned, and had little luck in finding a cure. He felt helpless. Wished he could ask for Ratchet’s advice.
“He creeps me out a little,” Groove admitted, determinedly working on his scuffs and not at the screen.
Blades’ response was less kind than his pacifistic partners, “What the slag does he keep muttering about, anyway?”
“One of the other Decepticons,” First Aid said quietly, “Thundercracker.”
“I remember that slagger,” Blades complained, “I thought he was offline.”
First Aid looked back towards the muttering mech as he struggled restlessly against his bonds. “He is.”
Rating: R
Verse: G1/Shattered Glass
Genre: Horror
Characters: Skywarp, Thundercracker, Protectobots, Starscream
Warnings: Disturbing images, implied torture
Other Notes: The verse is a bit mixed up, and somewhat unimportant.
Written for
competition_fun, and won me first place for that month! :BThis didn't really end up as scary as I'd wanted it to. I wrote this back in October, the morning it was due. Honestly, I had a lot of ideas about what led up to it and where it could go. I've probably forgotten all of that by now. The 24 hour cooldown passed a long time ago. I'm too embarassed to even read it.
It was an indiscernible sound that woke him; brought him back online with barely a processor to function with and nothing to see but stark, sleek walls. The dark was suffocating; the sound of his own functioning machinery too loud as he strained to try and pick up on whatever had brought him online with such a sense of dread.
“’Warp!” a voice croaked, low and quiet.
The seeker sat up quickly on the small recharge berth he was on and looked around the empty room in confusion, “TC?”
“Can you hear me?” The voice called again and Skywarp was on his feet. That was definitely Thundercracker’s voice. He’d know that voice anywhere. He ran his fingers along the wall, walking a circuit around the parameter. It wasn’t a large room, only five paces from wall to wall if he stayed close enough to scrape his wing along the surface. His fingers traced the edges around, once, twice- searching for any sign of a hidden panel. It wasn’t the first time he’d been locked up.
On the third time around the room, he stopped as soon as he caught sight of stasis bars. That hadn’t been there before, and he’d almost shocked his hand on it before he’d realized it was there. The rest of the room looked exactly the way it had before and he hadn’t heard the sound of opening blast doors.
“’Warp!” Thundercracker exclaimed again, with soft desperation that made Skywarp’s sensors prickle with sensitivity. He could see him, just beyond the bars, curled up on the ground against the wall of the adjacent cell.
Skywarp crouched as close to the stasis barrier as he could, barely wincing as he saw the hole in the other seeker’s fuselage, the jagged rip where a wing had been. Thundercracker was still sitting up, clenching his hands where they rested against his drawn up knees, trying to distract himself from the pain.
“You look like slag,” Skywarp said nervously, earning himself a tired glare from his wingmate, but nothing else. The silence was oppressing, made him want to chase it away. Didn’t want to have to watch Thundercracker shake with pain, “Well, not too slagged. You’ve been way more slagged before-“
“’Warp.”
“-we just need to call Hook, or even Screamer. Screamer will help if he has-“
“Warp!” Thundercracker winced, shaking a little harder before he could speak. “This isn’t our brig.”
“Autobots?” Skywarp asked, sitting in front of the bars when he saw the confirming nod. “Oh, slag. We’re weaklings.”
Thundercracker laughing about that should have really made him madder than it did. “Wait,” Skywarp said, “We can get the goody Autobots to fix you up. Hey! Hey, Autobrats!”
“Stop!” Thundercracker hissed, looking at one of the walls worriedly, “Warp, stop! These aren’t like the Autobots we know.”
“What do you mean?” Skywarp asked.
“They-“ Thundercracker began, but stopped at the sound of footsteps. Other than the stasis field between their rooms, there was no other door and the sound seemed impossibly loud through the walls.
“They’re monsters, ‘Warp,” Thundercracker whispered, and the wall across from him rippled like water and a hand came through it and Skywarp was already on his feet with a surprised yell.
“They're coming.” The fear was evident in Thundercracker’s voice. It was almost worse than the sight of the mech that had stepped into the blue seeker’s cell. The lights flickered and dimmed, making it hard to see his colors, and there were things jutting up from his shoulders that waved around his head without joints. Glinted like metal but moved in ways that metal could never move.
Then another mech moved behind him like a shadow, and this one’s feet fell without sound. The first had burning red optics, but this other had no light coming from his optics- if he had any. There was just a black shadow under the sharp juts of a helm.
Just the sight of something so unnatural made Skywarp step back further into his cell, a false sense of security. The one with glowing optics stood in front of the stasis field and looked over him with an angry scowl that Skywarp would normally challenge. But he couldn’t stop staring at the strange, waving shapes at his shoulders.
“Got a problem?” it asked, and the shadow mech behind him mouthed the words wordlessly with him, leaving Skywarp speechless. “I don’t like having my time wasted,” it continued. The dark mech grinned, dark oil spitting out between his denta.
“The frag are you!” Skywarp demanded, squaring up defensively, ready to attack the mech if they tried to come close.
“The names Blades,” he answered, laughing and coming close to the bars. The teleport stared back defiantly, “And don’t think I don’t see you flaring your wings at me, Decepticon.”
“You’re lucky you’re on the other side of these bars, and not out here where I can get my servos on you.”
Thundercracker screamed. The shadow mech had moved, fallen on him, and every punch sent energon flying. Dark fluid fell to the ground and hissed like acid. Skywarp jerked, looked between both enemies, “Stop it!” he screamed, throwing bravado and his own fear to the wind.
Blades just tilted his head, grinning a little further in amusement. Didn’t look at the sound of ripping metal and spattering fluid. “Stop what?”
“He can’t defend himself!” Skywarp cried, shocking a hand as he tried to reach through the bars, started to claw at the wall. Trying to peel back the paneling. Trying to get to the circuitry underneath. He’d short his arms out if he had to. If it would let him save his wingmate.
The red mech still stood, unfazed, flipping up a panel cover on his side of the wall. “You really are a stupid one,” he remarked, while Thundercracker was torn apart behind him.
Then Skywarp was on the floor, fighting to keep his systems online, growling curses and insults as he stared past the red mech’s pedes. He could barely make out the blue of Thundercracker’s paint job. Could only look at the broken shards of yellow canopy glass. His vision was fading, the shadow mech turned and there was a glow from his face now. It wasn’t the glow of optics, but of energon.
Its voice was a whisper, barely recognizable as words as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“…don’t scream.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Skywarp could barely move when he came back online, optics glowing dully. He was still on the floor. Still staring out of the bars. Thundercracker was watching him, sitting in a puddle of his own energon. That made him jerk, he’d been trying to sit up and only managed to fall to the side, making his wing groan from the pressure of his own weight.
“’Warp,” Thundercracker called quietly, grimacing at the effort it took. “Can you hear me?”
Trying to get onto his knees, Skywarp’s hands caught and tugged, stuck. There was his problem and the source of his processor ache. Stasis cuffs. “’Crackeeer,” he tried to reply, half drunk with relief, the sound muffled with his mouth against the floor. But he managed to get onto his knees, even if he had to use his head to do it.
“I hate these things,” Skywarp complained, squirming until he’d managed to get to the edge of the wall, near the stasis field. He leaned his helm against it, so he could watch Thundercracker without getting shocked. He didn’t trust his balance with the cuffs on. “You look like slag.”
“So do you,” Thundercracker returned, leaning his helm against the wall.
“At least I didn’t leak lubricants everywhere,” and when Thundercracker managed to look affronted by the insult, he started laughing before lowering his voice more seriously, “What happened?”
The remaining, whole blue wing shrugged slightly, “That stun pulse took me out, too.” But not the Autobots. It was an unspoken truth. No mech should have been able to stay online through a pulse that strong.
Skywarp wanted to ask how he’d survived. Why that gross mech hadn’t killed him. Instead, he asked awkwardly, “How are your levels?”
Another shrug. “I can barely see through all the errors,” his optics dimmed, “But I’m still online.”
Another ripple along the wall, and Skywarp froze, waiting tensely. But nothing came through that strange wall and suddenly, the stasis field flickered and went out. They looked at one another in confusion.
“It might be a trap,” Thundercracker whispered, tried to move. But he was too damaged, and jostling his injuries only made his entire frame clench in pain.
Skywarp looked up at the field frame, and slowly, slowly pressed his helm forward. There was no shock. They were really gone. “What should I do?” he asked, uncertain. Not wanting to be the cause of any more attacks.
He felt it, then. A flicker of spark energy. He fell, when he turned too fast to compensate, hitting the ground painfully as he rolled onto his back and looked around. There was nothing there he could see. But he’d definitely felt another mech close to him.
“’Warp!” Thundercracker choked, “Get out of here!”
He felt hands touch him, pulling him up onto his feet. He screamed, kicking and flailing despite the cuffs and fell when they let go. “Something’s touching me!” Skywarp howled, pushing himself backward along the ground, mindless of the gouges he was scraping into his frame.
A weight pressed down on him, held him to the ground. He screamed insults at it, and it seemed to become even angrier. There were hands. Hands pressing against his kneck, and a weight grinding into his canopy. He struggled, tried to fight, but the stasis cuffs left him weak and he couldn’t see weaknesses to try and take advantage of them.
Another set of hands now and he was hauled to his feet, dragged. The more he struggled, the more they pulled, until he lurched forward and was pulled off the ground entirely, his limbs left to dangle, useless. It was the most unnerving thing he’d ever experienced in the vorns he’d been alive.
“’Cracker!” Skywarp cried, tried to twist back to see if anything was happening to him. He didn’t see when he was pulled through the wall, just knew that he was no longer where he had been. Cells lined the walls, the glow of stasis fields seeming to go on forever down the hallway he was being carried through. He kept struggling, but it was no use.
Skywarp wasn’t used to fear. Not like this. Not so strong and thick that he could barely form a functioning thought. It seemed like forever before he was put back onto his feet in front of a blast door. He tried to look around, fans spinning frantically to keep him from overheating, and caught sight of another pair of wings. The color was off, seemingly white in this too bright hall, but there was no mistaking the face.
“Screamer,” Skywarp hissed, and Starscream’s helm turned slowly, haughty optics looking back at him dispassionately. He was also standing in front of another door, but there were visible mechs standing on either side of him, holding him in chains. He tried again, “Screamer!”
Dispassion turned to annoyance and Starscream turned his face back towards the door with brave defiance, “You should be worried about yourself,” he hissed back.
Skywarp’s own door slid open, and before he was pulled inside, the world went dark.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“’Warp,” a voice called to him, greeted him back online yet again. “Can you hear me?”
“TC?” Skywarp asked, looking up blearily. He tried to move, and couldn’t. Tried to sit up, but was stopped. There were chains on his wrists, his ankles, keeping him pressed down on the berth he was laying on.
“I saw Screamer,” Skywarp muttered.
“How’d he look?” Thundercracker asked.
Skywarp grinned, lopsided and tired, “Still ugly.” The fight had left him now, he felt light headed, but fought off the desire to recharge and turned to look towards his wingmate.
Thundercracker was there, on the ground against the wall, energon dribbling slowly out of his broken cockpit. Skywarp felt dull concern, flatly muttering, “We’ve got to save you.”
His wingmate looked back towards him, optics dim, and smiled grimly, “I think it’s too late for that….”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Fragger acted like we weren’t even there,” Blades complained, loudly while Groove was busily buffing out the scratches he’d received from the scuffle.
“Please don’t hold it against him,” First Aid said, watching the dark seeker through the monitor on the wall as he muttered insensibly.
“-Hook can fix you up, TC,” Skywarp was saying towards the wall, optics barely online.
First Aid looked away, venting a sigh through his vents. It was very difficult to see a mech so in need. He’d been attempting to figure out what was wrong with the seeker since he’d been imprisoned, and had little luck in finding a cure. He felt helpless. Wished he could ask for Ratchet’s advice.
“He creeps me out a little,” Groove admitted, determinedly working on his scuffs and not at the screen.
Blades’ response was less kind than his pacifistic partners, “What the slag does he keep muttering about, anyway?”
“One of the other Decepticons,” First Aid said quietly, “Thundercracker.”
“I remember that slagger,” Blades complained, “I thought he was offline.”
First Aid looked back towards the muttering mech as he struggled restlessly against his bonds. “He is.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2012-01-03 12:30 am (UTC)Is that expansion on the Roles We Play a legitimate answer? :B
no subject
on 2012-01-03 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2012-01-03 03:58 am (UTC)While Jazz rolls like the cool dude he totally is.
no subject
on 2012-01-03 04:01 am (UTC)And Sunday would be great :D