RP Log
Shattered Glass Universe Cliffjumper*Mirage log, 1/?.
Cliffjumper played by me, Mirage by Drake.
Warnings for: Smut interrupted, LargeHamDecadentEvilAristocrat!Mirage, violence, and trauma. THIS IS NOT HAPPY RP.
Oh thank Primus, he was out of that thrice-blasted place! He swore, one more minute of Megatron being maternally concerned about keeping him out of Autobot clutches, and he would've started screaming. Loudly.
Not that this crazy inverse Cybertron was exactly a walk in the park or anythin', but getting out of the 'Con base felt good, and he loosened up his limbs and joints as he walked away from the hidden exit, enjoying the feel of being in an open space.
Then he transformed, setting off on the small patrol circuit assigned to him. It was pretty obvious coddling, giving in just enough to placiate him without putting him in danger again, but still progress!
Little did Cliffjumper realize that he was the object of observation by more than just the Decepticons! The specific location of the Decepticon base may have been well hidden, but it's general location was a different matter; and as his patrol took him further away from the safe haven Megatron had built, so to did it bring him closer to a certain presence, invisible to optics and radar, that had been patiently waiting for him to appear.
The little red car was oblivious to the danger, even though he was stretching all his senses and sensors out to their maximum, taking the patrol as a challenge to make sure he was still sharp and ready for anything-- even though nothing was likely to happen. And, hey, maybe he'd get a chance to shoot at something, even if it wasn't much at all!
His patience at last rewarded, the watcher's engine suddenly roared into life, shattered the area's seemingly deserted stillness. But rather than giving chase, he turned and left; the Cliffjumper he'd known would never have been able to resist such a bait.
Cliffjumper started at the sudden noise, (predictably) unable to resist swinging aroud to follow it and yelling, "Hey! Who's there?!" as he gunned his engine, kicking up dust and scrap metal and he careened off after whoever-it-was.
With a mocking laugh, the invisible mech was easily able to stay ahead of his persuer -- there were none who could match him for sheer speed. But he took care not to stray too far ahead, lest he lose the red minibot entirely. Meanwhile, they were straying further and further from the Decepticon base...
With a laugh like that, it had to be a Decep-- er, Autobot, and Cliffjumper realized they were teasing him.
Well, like slag was he going to let that slide! Rocketing after the Autobot, he took more shortcuts than he should have, cutting over sharp-edged piles of scrap and rubble that scraped painfully at his wheels and undercarriage. But hedefinitely going to catch that Autobot, and give 'em a good beatdown!
Oh, but he'd have to find his prey first; and as the invisible mech metaphorically vanished into a large, bombed out warehouse, the sound of his engine died away, replaced by silence.
Heedless of the obvious dangers, Cliffjumper followed, sliding to a skidding stop and transforming just outside, and drawing a gun. A really big one, longer than his arm. A great gun, in other words!
So armed, he sidled up to the nearest enterance and peered insided.
Within, there were only shadows. Seemingly nothing moved but the dust in this place, abandoned by both sides, and even that was sluggish, drifting carelessly in the dim sunlight that filtered through the multiple holes in the roof.
"Where the slag...?" Cliffjumper murmured, advancing with gun forward and trigger finger just itching to pull back at the first sign of movement. He was sure he'd heard the Autobot come in here...
Who had it been, anyway? Cliffjumper knew his Autobots (seeing as how he used to be one, in his own universe), but he hadn't recognized the voice from that laugh. So, the tone of the engine he'd been following, assuming they had the same altmode here as he would know them in...
"Is it really you?" a haughty voice exclaimed out of the darkness; his only warning before a heavy crate, filled with scrap metal for this very purpose, suddenly fell from one of the catwalks directly above him.
Cliffjumper barely had time to yelp and dive out of the way, shooting at the crate wildly as he skidded across the floor. "Who the frag wants to know?!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet and backing up against the wall. The voice, it was niggling at his memory banks, but he couldn't quite place it yet...
The silence that followed seemed almost to be pouting; someone was disappointed that their carefully appointed trap hadn't worked. Oh well; there was more where that came from.
The silence set Cliffjumper on edge, and he sidled towards the exit, glaring around and gun still at the ready. Who was it? Someone this world's Cliffjumper had known?
"Leaving so soon?" a voice called, still somewhere up in the catwalks. "I insist you stay." And, just to back up his words, a thick cable, of the sort used by cranes, fell out of the shadows and wrapped it around Cliffjumper's gun-arm, hoisting him a meter or so off his feet.
Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be any sort of counterbalance on the cable's other end.
"What the slag!" Cliffjumper yelled, flailing and grabbing at the cable, trying to hoist himself up enough to aim and shoot at... thin air, his attacker still invisible-- "Mirage?"
Well wasn't that just slaggin' peachy. It would be too much to hope Mirage was as fence-riding and anti-war as the one at home, wouldn't it?
"So you do know me after all," that same voice said, finally appearing on the floor close by and holding on tightly to the cable's other end, keeping Cliffjumper suspended in mid-air. "I was beginning to wonder."
It was indeed Mirage, though not as Cliffjumper had known him. This Mirage seemed to favor garish blacks and oranges over subtle white and blue, and his face was twisted into a haught, vain smirk that would have seemed alien even in the old Mirage's proudest moments. He gave the cable a hard jerk, jostling Cliffjumper out of another attempt at hoisting himself up to fire. "And what do you have to say for yourself, my former friend?" There was something cruel and oddly lascivious about the way he said that, giving the phrase uncomfortably high levels of subtext.
The sudden jolt drove a startled cry of pain out of Cliffjumper, his joints objecting to the stresses being put on them. Oh, joy, Mirage was as big a jerk as all the other Autobots in this universe.
"Didn't-- ah, didn't you get the memo?" Cliffjumper glared at Mirage. "I'm not from around these parts. Ugly paint job, by the way." He wouldn't have been quite so blunt with his Mirage, but this one had already taunted him, tried to crush him, and hoisted him up like... like something hoisted into the air and dangling by one arm.
"Oh, I heard all about it," Mirage snapped, his full lips twisted into a deep frown. "I just had to come see for myself. And not that I expect it to make any difference, but I'd be more careful who you insulted." He gave the cable another hard yank to make his point, before suddenly releasing it and vanishing.
Cliffjumper yelped as he was jerked around, then dumped on the floor in an aching heap. Okay, so he'd had a lot worse, but it was downright insulting and undignified, the way Mirage was messing with him.
So he got to his feet, switched which hand was holding the gun, and backed away towards the exit, keeping an ear out for any telltale sounds of movement.
"Did I say you could leave?" Mirage's voice snarled just behind Cliffjumper's audio sensor. Strong, yet slender arms suddenly wrapped around his chest, yanking him off balance while deft fingers slid into his strained joint, pressing cruelly and damaging it further.
Another yelp, this one tinged with panic as Cliffjumper tried to wrench away from Mirage and wrenched his arm instead-- "Primus," he said (he certainly didn't whimper the name, he was Cliffjumper and didn't do that no matter how much it hurt).
"I had to see for myself," Mirage purred in his audio, "If there was anything left of the mech I used to know." His free hand was splayed across Cliffjumper's chest, holding him tightly while the hand pressed into his joint continued hurting him. Either Mirage didn't care how much he actually damaged his prisoner -- or he was enjoying it
"And this is the way you check?!" Cliffjumper snapped, or would have snapped if his voice hadn't been strained by the pain. Augh, it far easier to ignore pain if it was all over, not a single burning spot of agony. Desperately, he tried to kick at Mirage's legs and hit something sensitive with his elbow.
Mirage did cry out in pain as one of Cliffjumper's flailing heels connected with his leg -- but contrary to the minibot's expectations, Mirage only pressed closer, slowly forcing the smaller mech to the ground with his weight. "Would you prefer a different method?" he asked with dark amusement, fingertips suddenly pressing into the tightly closed seam on Cliffjumper's chest.
Cliffjumper squawked and struggled harder at the intimate touch-- what the slag?! "Get the slag off me!" he shouted, desperation creeping up into his voice. Oh slag oh slag oh slag, of course this Mirage was some kind of-- of chest-molesting pervert, that was JUST his luck!
"Why?" Mirage asked, sadistic smirk evident in his tone. "You used to do this to me all the time." His fingertips, meanwhile, hadn't stopped their intrustion into Cliffjumper's personal space; if anything they were growing even more insistent about forcing that seam open.
Well slaggit, so this place's Cliffjumper had been a pervert, too. Didn't mean he was one, and he let loose a long string of curses as he struggled as hard as he could, twisting away from the hand.
"I think I might like you better this way," Mirage remarked, his own chest pressed tightly against Cliffjumper's back. "Maybe I should take you home with..." He bit one of the smaller mech's horns, simply because he could.
And that definitely wasn't a distressed whimper or anything at the bite, Cliffjumper was too mech for that. No, it was, erm, the sound of his joints as he kicked at Mirage with renewed vigor and wreched his head forwards, away from the bite, then slammed his head back, fully intending to hit Mirage in the fragging face.
There was an audible crunch as the blow connected, and Mirage shrieked, inadvertently releasing the minibot. He may have been perverse, but not that perverse; besides, it would have been hard for someone as vain as him to enjoy anything that messed up his face. "You little glitch!" he shrieked, kicking at Cliffjumper's side. "And to think I was going to be nice to you!"
Cliffjumper was a little dizzy from the blow-- it had rattled his processors and gyros a bit-- but that didn't stop him from bringing the gun back up to bear and fragging shooting at the slaggin' pervert. A lot. Kicking be damned.
With a final cry of pain (and a brief shower of sparks, as one of the shots apparently hit something important) Mirage ran, disappearing into on the far corners of the warehouse.
Cliffjumper kept shooting, trying to follow the sound of Mirage's footsteps, but his aim was beginning to waver dizzily off-center. Ugh, maybe slamming his head into Mirage's face hadn't been such a great idea, even if it HAD gotten the perv offa him.
With a faintly pained noise, Cliffjumper struggled to his feet and wove dizzily towards the exit again, moving as fast as he could without risking tripping over an air pocket and crashing to the floor. Slag slag slag slag slag.
Mirage wasn't quite done yet, though; as soon as Cliffjumper stopped firing at him, the invisible Autobot left his hiding place -- in order to fire back.
Again: slag slag slag. With another yelp of pain as his arm was wrenched about, Cliffjumper transformed and tried to get the slagging pit OUT OF THERE--
And ended up clipping the edge of the door, sending him into a dizzying spin that ended with him jolted back into robot mode against a scrap pile outside, and way too pained and out of it to move.
After several dazed minutes, Mirage's approached was betrayed by a small, pained whimper. "You're certainly as stubborn as ever," he remarked, as he stood over the damaged mech. There was something off about his voice; that blow to the face had apparently hampered his ability to speak clearly.
"Jump in a smelting pit and die," Cliffjumper replied after a moment, making a motion as if he was aiming a gun at Mirage... the gun that had gotten sent flying off to one side in his crash. He hissed in frustrated pain and let his hand drop.
Mirage laughed at Cliffjumper's helplessness -- but the sound was suddenly cut off by a pained hiss. He sank to his knees, by sheer happenstance straddling Cliffjumper's hips in the process. "Is that any way to talk?" he chided with false tenderness, fingers reaching around and exploring the dent in the back of Cliffjumper's head. "We used to be so close."
He winced away from the touch, optics flaring in pain and a weak pained sound worming its way out of his vocalizer. "'M not the Cliffjumper you knew," he managed, fuzzily, and then more faintly, "The Mirage I know wasn't a perv. And had more taste in paint..."
"Shut up!" Mirage snapped, and backhanded Cliffjumper across the face. "You never had any complaints before; I don't care what's changed." One of his hands suddenly seized Cliffjumper by the throat, forcing his head back into the scrap heap, while the other hand slowly traced the dents and scratches on his chest. "There must be some way to fix you...Make you the way you were..."
Cliffjumper was hurting far too much to really struggle, but he gave it his best go, snarling weakly, "Slaggit, I mean it literally! I'm not from this universe!" His face hurt, and his shoulder, and his everywhere else, and why the slag had he ever wanted to go on patrol?!
"Does it matter?" Mirage was smirking again; his voice was chillingingly cruel. "You're definitely the same sort of person; stubborn, violent...it's just your motivations that needs a little work." Again he pressed his fingertips into the seam on Cliffjumper's chest, viciously trying to press it open. "Of course, I could be wrong...But that doesn't mean I can't have fun trying."
If Cliffjumper had been less of the stubborn and violent sort, he might have just let Mirage do whatever the pit he wanted. Since Cliffjumper wasn't less himself, he snarled and (pathetically weakly) took a swing at the invisible guy sitting on top of him, the seam over his spark chamber as tightly closed as Red Alert's security.
Mirage easily caught Cliffjumper's wrist, laughing cruelly and pinning it back to the scrap heap. "None of that," he chided, still laughing quietly and keeping Cliffjumper pinned as he leaned down and bit the minibot's lower lip.
Cliffjumper flinched away, then snapped back, as it he could defeat Mirage by sheer show of agressive hate.
Mirage purred and bit back, pressing his chest tightly against Cliffjumper's. He wouldn't be driven off that easily.
Another flinch, and Cliffjumper struggled, trying to get away from the intimate contact. He so very much was starting to wish he'd never even thought about trying to get out from Megatron's mothering... at least that didn't leave him aching and getting slagging molested.
One of Mirage's hands strayed back to the seam in his chest, this time trying to a different tactic, gently stroking and pressing, rather than clawing.
He jerked and gasped, optics suddenly dimming-- then flaring up, a disgusted and angry expression darting across his face. That had definitely not felt unexpectedly good, and even if it had, it was just what his sensors were reporting. This Mirage was still a evil cruel jerk.
With a pleased laugh at his own success -- even if it was a little disappointing, having to be so gentle to get what he wanted -- Mirage continued gently petting Cliffjumper's chest, paying careful attention to his central seam.
Cliffjumper hissed and did his best to ignore what his sensors were telling him, specifically that that felt fraggin'-- scrap, he'd shoot himself before he admitted that what Mirage was doing felt good at all, and in the meantime he snarled and fixed his focus somewhere far away, trying to dampen the shivers of his engine trying to start up without his permission
Mirage wasn't going to have any of that! He harshly slapped Cliffjumper, trying to force the smaller mech to pay attention to him.
That did get Cliffjumper's attention, and he whined in pain before he could stop himself, struggling faintly and continuing to try and ignore the touch on his chest.
Engine beginng to slowly purr in satisfaction despite his own injuries, Mirage lowered his head, licking the seam on Cliffjumper's chest.
Gasp-snarl-struggle, and Cliffjumper dampened his engine back down almost before it could turn over. "Slag you," he hissed at Mirage, voice strained from more than the pain, now.
Mirage's engine was nearly rumbling with excitement, especially as Cliffjumper continued struggling. He pressed himself up against Cliffjumper's chest, biting one of his horns.
He whined, unhappily, and tried to pull his head away from the bite, the shakes from keeping his engine still silent getting harder to keep down. "Slag you," he managed again, biting out the words as viciously as he could.
Mirage moaned, pressing Cliffjumper back, hard, into the scrap heap as his engine kicked into a higher gear. He ground his chest down into Cliffjumper's, his cloak beginning to flicker on and off as his concentration wavered.
Cliffjumper flinched, then whined again, finally catching on that Mirage was getting off on his struggling-- "You pervert," he choked out, and held as still as possible, forcing his shaking down and his terror-- no, not terror, anger, definitely anger-- aside and trying to just not be there, not give Mirage anything...
Mirage snarled, displeased by this new type of resistance, and viciously bit Cliffjumper's jaw, trying to force a reaction out of him.
A sharp, quiet sound of pain, choked down quickly, and Cliffjumper turned his face away, refusing to give Mirage his attention.
"Stop ignoring me!" Mirage burst out, growling in deep frustration and punching Cliffjumper in the face.
A groan of pain, and Cliffjumper shuddered, sullenly and unwillingly reacting to the violence with a low growl and a venemous look.
Encouraged, Mirage punched Cliffjumper again, trying to get a larger reaction out of him.
He got a reaction, a bit-back yelp and a string of curses and the faintest bit of fear oozing into Cliffjumper's defiant expression-- Cliffjumper knew he was giving Mirage exactly what he wanted, but slagitall if he wasn't useless at surpressing his reactions.
"That's more like it," Mirage purred, punching the smaller bot a third time, this time hard enough to force his head back into the scrap heap.
Cliffjumper nearly screamed as his dented head was forcefully reaquainted with some very tough metal, and even he couldn't deny that it was followed by something very close to a sob, entire body shaking from the renewed pain. "Fragging slag-sucking bottomfeeding pervert," he whimpered, "hope you eat a landmine and die," and his voice was shaking harder than the rest of him.
"Is that the best you can do?" Mirage's tone was a mix of amusement at Cliffjumper's words, and gratification that he'd broken through the smaller mech's attempt to ignore him. He hit him once more for good measure, his body shivering with delight as he pressed himself close to Cliffjumper's shaking form.
Another whimpered string of pure profanity, and Cliffjumper was getting desperate enough to try something that might get him killed. Slag. Slag. "Get tossed outta a plane and shatter when you hit the ground," he described, as another potential death-- thoughts too scattered by fear and desperation to give it any real context.
"Come on, where's that imagination I used to admire so?" Amusement was beginning to win out, though it didn't stop Mirage from beginning to pet Cliffjumper's chest once more, hoping goding the smaller mech on.
Cliffjumper's engine purred without his permission, and he whined, trying to shrink deeper into the scrap pile as his strained arm's hand clutched spasmodically at the metal. "S-s-slowly crushed to death, from the feet up," he sobbed, and his hand closed around something heavy and loose on top of the pile, "feeling every inch of your body collapse--"
"That's it, keep going," Mirage purred, and nuzzled Cliffjumper's face, biting at his lip again. His own engine rumbled into a higher gear, but he deliberately damped it down, not wanting to miss a single word.
"Head bashed in," and with a whine of pain Cliffjumper swung the heavy lump of twisted iron to do just that, the sensors in his arm screaming their protest.
Caught off guard, there was nothing for Mirage to do but scream in pain as the iron collided with his head, hard enough to buckle his helm's outer plating. Cloak flickering off, he fell to the side, dazed and half-conscious, inadvertly releasing Cliffjumper from the pin.
Cliffjumper surged to his knees, switching hands and doing it again, then along Mirage's side, sloppy unaimed blows that weren't exactly doing optimal damage but who gave a slag hitting Mirage was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life--
No, no, and he groaned, deep and shaky. He was better than that, he was no torturer or mindless machine of violence... shaking like an aspen leaf, he dropped the hunk of iron and staggered to his feet. "Oh slag," he murmured, and nearly staggered back to his knees, barely catching himself before deciding it would be easier to balance on four wheels...
Barely clinging to consciousness, his head and torso a mess of dents and spilled energon, Mirage still tried to move, rolling off the scrap heap with a broken cry. "Don't go," he whimpered with broken lips, one arm outstretched across the ground, reaching for Cliffjumper. "I-I didn't say you could leave..."
It took all of Cliffjumper's will to not go back and kick Mirage until he stopped moving, and then kick him some more, until he would never move again, and his spark was gone off to whatever burning pit was waiting for it...
Instead, he snarled an uncreative and entirely spark-felt, "Slag you," transformed with a whine of pain, and took off for the Decepticon base, dizzily over-steering and going far too slow, and leaving Mirage behind.
Cliffjumper played by me, Mirage by Drake.
Warnings for: Smut interrupted, LargeHamDecadentEvilAristocrat!Mirage, violence, and trauma. THIS IS NOT HAPPY RP.
Oh thank Primus, he was out of that thrice-blasted place! He swore, one more minute of Megatron being maternally concerned about keeping him out of Autobot clutches, and he would've started screaming. Loudly.
Not that this crazy inverse Cybertron was exactly a walk in the park or anythin', but getting out of the 'Con base felt good, and he loosened up his limbs and joints as he walked away from the hidden exit, enjoying the feel of being in an open space.
Then he transformed, setting off on the small patrol circuit assigned to him. It was pretty obvious coddling, giving in just enough to placiate him without putting him in danger again, but still progress!
Little did Cliffjumper realize that he was the object of observation by more than just the Decepticons! The specific location of the Decepticon base may have been well hidden, but it's general location was a different matter; and as his patrol took him further away from the safe haven Megatron had built, so to did it bring him closer to a certain presence, invisible to optics and radar, that had been patiently waiting for him to appear.
The little red car was oblivious to the danger, even though he was stretching all his senses and sensors out to their maximum, taking the patrol as a challenge to make sure he was still sharp and ready for anything-- even though nothing was likely to happen. And, hey, maybe he'd get a chance to shoot at something, even if it wasn't much at all!
His patience at last rewarded, the watcher's engine suddenly roared into life, shattered the area's seemingly deserted stillness. But rather than giving chase, he turned and left; the Cliffjumper he'd known would never have been able to resist such a bait.
Cliffjumper started at the sudden noise, (predictably) unable to resist swinging aroud to follow it and yelling, "Hey! Who's there?!" as he gunned his engine, kicking up dust and scrap metal and he careened off after whoever-it-was.
With a mocking laugh, the invisible mech was easily able to stay ahead of his persuer -- there were none who could match him for sheer speed. But he took care not to stray too far ahead, lest he lose the red minibot entirely. Meanwhile, they were straying further and further from the Decepticon base...
With a laugh like that, it had to be a Decep-- er, Autobot, and Cliffjumper realized they were teasing him.
Well, like slag was he going to let that slide! Rocketing after the Autobot, he took more shortcuts than he should have, cutting over sharp-edged piles of scrap and rubble that scraped painfully at his wheels and undercarriage. But hedefinitely going to catch that Autobot, and give 'em a good beatdown!
Oh, but he'd have to find his prey first; and as the invisible mech metaphorically vanished into a large, bombed out warehouse, the sound of his engine died away, replaced by silence.
Heedless of the obvious dangers, Cliffjumper followed, sliding to a skidding stop and transforming just outside, and drawing a gun. A really big one, longer than his arm. A great gun, in other words!
So armed, he sidled up to the nearest enterance and peered insided.
Within, there were only shadows. Seemingly nothing moved but the dust in this place, abandoned by both sides, and even that was sluggish, drifting carelessly in the dim sunlight that filtered through the multiple holes in the roof.
"Where the slag...?" Cliffjumper murmured, advancing with gun forward and trigger finger just itching to pull back at the first sign of movement. He was sure he'd heard the Autobot come in here...
Who had it been, anyway? Cliffjumper knew his Autobots (seeing as how he used to be one, in his own universe), but he hadn't recognized the voice from that laugh. So, the tone of the engine he'd been following, assuming they had the same altmode here as he would know them in...
"Is it really you?" a haughty voice exclaimed out of the darkness; his only warning before a heavy crate, filled with scrap metal for this very purpose, suddenly fell from one of the catwalks directly above him.
Cliffjumper barely had time to yelp and dive out of the way, shooting at the crate wildly as he skidded across the floor. "Who the frag wants to know?!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet and backing up against the wall. The voice, it was niggling at his memory banks, but he couldn't quite place it yet...
The silence that followed seemed almost to be pouting; someone was disappointed that their carefully appointed trap hadn't worked. Oh well; there was more where that came from.
The silence set Cliffjumper on edge, and he sidled towards the exit, glaring around and gun still at the ready. Who was it? Someone this world's Cliffjumper had known?
"Leaving so soon?" a voice called, still somewhere up in the catwalks. "I insist you stay." And, just to back up his words, a thick cable, of the sort used by cranes, fell out of the shadows and wrapped it around Cliffjumper's gun-arm, hoisting him a meter or so off his feet.
Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be any sort of counterbalance on the cable's other end.
"What the slag!" Cliffjumper yelled, flailing and grabbing at the cable, trying to hoist himself up enough to aim and shoot at... thin air, his attacker still invisible-- "Mirage?"
Well wasn't that just slaggin' peachy. It would be too much to hope Mirage was as fence-riding and anti-war as the one at home, wouldn't it?
"So you do know me after all," that same voice said, finally appearing on the floor close by and holding on tightly to the cable's other end, keeping Cliffjumper suspended in mid-air. "I was beginning to wonder."
It was indeed Mirage, though not as Cliffjumper had known him. This Mirage seemed to favor garish blacks and oranges over subtle white and blue, and his face was twisted into a haught, vain smirk that would have seemed alien even in the old Mirage's proudest moments. He gave the cable a hard jerk, jostling Cliffjumper out of another attempt at hoisting himself up to fire. "And what do you have to say for yourself, my former friend?" There was something cruel and oddly lascivious about the way he said that, giving the phrase uncomfortably high levels of subtext.
The sudden jolt drove a startled cry of pain out of Cliffjumper, his joints objecting to the stresses being put on them. Oh, joy, Mirage was as big a jerk as all the other Autobots in this universe.
"Didn't-- ah, didn't you get the memo?" Cliffjumper glared at Mirage. "I'm not from around these parts. Ugly paint job, by the way." He wouldn't have been quite so blunt with his Mirage, but this one had already taunted him, tried to crush him, and hoisted him up like... like something hoisted into the air and dangling by one arm.
"Oh, I heard all about it," Mirage snapped, his full lips twisted into a deep frown. "I just had to come see for myself. And not that I expect it to make any difference, but I'd be more careful who you insulted." He gave the cable another hard yank to make his point, before suddenly releasing it and vanishing.
Cliffjumper yelped as he was jerked around, then dumped on the floor in an aching heap. Okay, so he'd had a lot worse, but it was downright insulting and undignified, the way Mirage was messing with him.
So he got to his feet, switched which hand was holding the gun, and backed away towards the exit, keeping an ear out for any telltale sounds of movement.
"Did I say you could leave?" Mirage's voice snarled just behind Cliffjumper's audio sensor. Strong, yet slender arms suddenly wrapped around his chest, yanking him off balance while deft fingers slid into his strained joint, pressing cruelly and damaging it further.
Another yelp, this one tinged with panic as Cliffjumper tried to wrench away from Mirage and wrenched his arm instead-- "Primus," he said (he certainly didn't whimper the name, he was Cliffjumper and didn't do that no matter how much it hurt).
"I had to see for myself," Mirage purred in his audio, "If there was anything left of the mech I used to know." His free hand was splayed across Cliffjumper's chest, holding him tightly while the hand pressed into his joint continued hurting him. Either Mirage didn't care how much he actually damaged his prisoner -- or he was enjoying it
"And this is the way you check?!" Cliffjumper snapped, or would have snapped if his voice hadn't been strained by the pain. Augh, it far easier to ignore pain if it was all over, not a single burning spot of agony. Desperately, he tried to kick at Mirage's legs and hit something sensitive with his elbow.
Mirage did cry out in pain as one of Cliffjumper's flailing heels connected with his leg -- but contrary to the minibot's expectations, Mirage only pressed closer, slowly forcing the smaller mech to the ground with his weight. "Would you prefer a different method?" he asked with dark amusement, fingertips suddenly pressing into the tightly closed seam on Cliffjumper's chest.
Cliffjumper squawked and struggled harder at the intimate touch-- what the slag?! "Get the slag off me!" he shouted, desperation creeping up into his voice. Oh slag oh slag oh slag, of course this Mirage was some kind of-- of chest-molesting pervert, that was JUST his luck!
"Why?" Mirage asked, sadistic smirk evident in his tone. "You used to do this to me all the time." His fingertips, meanwhile, hadn't stopped their intrustion into Cliffjumper's personal space; if anything they were growing even more insistent about forcing that seam open.
Well slaggit, so this place's Cliffjumper had been a pervert, too. Didn't mean he was one, and he let loose a long string of curses as he struggled as hard as he could, twisting away from the hand.
"I think I might like you better this way," Mirage remarked, his own chest pressed tightly against Cliffjumper's back. "Maybe I should take you home with..." He bit one of the smaller mech's horns, simply because he could.
And that definitely wasn't a distressed whimper or anything at the bite, Cliffjumper was too mech for that. No, it was, erm, the sound of his joints as he kicked at Mirage with renewed vigor and wreched his head forwards, away from the bite, then slammed his head back, fully intending to hit Mirage in the fragging face.
There was an audible crunch as the blow connected, and Mirage shrieked, inadvertently releasing the minibot. He may have been perverse, but not that perverse; besides, it would have been hard for someone as vain as him to enjoy anything that messed up his face. "You little glitch!" he shrieked, kicking at Cliffjumper's side. "And to think I was going to be nice to you!"
Cliffjumper was a little dizzy from the blow-- it had rattled his processors and gyros a bit-- but that didn't stop him from bringing the gun back up to bear and fragging shooting at the slaggin' pervert. A lot. Kicking be damned.
With a final cry of pain (and a brief shower of sparks, as one of the shots apparently hit something important) Mirage ran, disappearing into on the far corners of the warehouse.
Cliffjumper kept shooting, trying to follow the sound of Mirage's footsteps, but his aim was beginning to waver dizzily off-center. Ugh, maybe slamming his head into Mirage's face hadn't been such a great idea, even if it HAD gotten the perv offa him.
With a faintly pained noise, Cliffjumper struggled to his feet and wove dizzily towards the exit again, moving as fast as he could without risking tripping over an air pocket and crashing to the floor. Slag slag slag slag slag.
Mirage wasn't quite done yet, though; as soon as Cliffjumper stopped firing at him, the invisible Autobot left his hiding place -- in order to fire back.
Again: slag slag slag. With another yelp of pain as his arm was wrenched about, Cliffjumper transformed and tried to get the slagging pit OUT OF THERE--
And ended up clipping the edge of the door, sending him into a dizzying spin that ended with him jolted back into robot mode against a scrap pile outside, and way too pained and out of it to move.
After several dazed minutes, Mirage's approached was betrayed by a small, pained whimper. "You're certainly as stubborn as ever," he remarked, as he stood over the damaged mech. There was something off about his voice; that blow to the face had apparently hampered his ability to speak clearly.
"Jump in a smelting pit and die," Cliffjumper replied after a moment, making a motion as if he was aiming a gun at Mirage... the gun that had gotten sent flying off to one side in his crash. He hissed in frustrated pain and let his hand drop.
Mirage laughed at Cliffjumper's helplessness -- but the sound was suddenly cut off by a pained hiss. He sank to his knees, by sheer happenstance straddling Cliffjumper's hips in the process. "Is that any way to talk?" he chided with false tenderness, fingers reaching around and exploring the dent in the back of Cliffjumper's head. "We used to be so close."
He winced away from the touch, optics flaring in pain and a weak pained sound worming its way out of his vocalizer. "'M not the Cliffjumper you knew," he managed, fuzzily, and then more faintly, "The Mirage I know wasn't a perv. And had more taste in paint..."
"Shut up!" Mirage snapped, and backhanded Cliffjumper across the face. "You never had any complaints before; I don't care what's changed." One of his hands suddenly seized Cliffjumper by the throat, forcing his head back into the scrap heap, while the other hand slowly traced the dents and scratches on his chest. "There must be some way to fix you...Make you the way you were..."
Cliffjumper was hurting far too much to really struggle, but he gave it his best go, snarling weakly, "Slaggit, I mean it literally! I'm not from this universe!" His face hurt, and his shoulder, and his everywhere else, and why the slag had he ever wanted to go on patrol?!
"Does it matter?" Mirage was smirking again; his voice was chillingingly cruel. "You're definitely the same sort of person; stubborn, violent...it's just your motivations that needs a little work." Again he pressed his fingertips into the seam on Cliffjumper's chest, viciously trying to press it open. "Of course, I could be wrong...But that doesn't mean I can't have fun trying."
If Cliffjumper had been less of the stubborn and violent sort, he might have just let Mirage do whatever the pit he wanted. Since Cliffjumper wasn't less himself, he snarled and (pathetically weakly) took a swing at the invisible guy sitting on top of him, the seam over his spark chamber as tightly closed as Red Alert's security.
Mirage easily caught Cliffjumper's wrist, laughing cruelly and pinning it back to the scrap heap. "None of that," he chided, still laughing quietly and keeping Cliffjumper pinned as he leaned down and bit the minibot's lower lip.
Cliffjumper flinched away, then snapped back, as it he could defeat Mirage by sheer show of agressive hate.
Mirage purred and bit back, pressing his chest tightly against Cliffjumper's. He wouldn't be driven off that easily.
Another flinch, and Cliffjumper struggled, trying to get away from the intimate contact. He so very much was starting to wish he'd never even thought about trying to get out from Megatron's mothering... at least that didn't leave him aching and getting slagging molested.
One of Mirage's hands strayed back to the seam in his chest, this time trying to a different tactic, gently stroking and pressing, rather than clawing.
He jerked and gasped, optics suddenly dimming-- then flaring up, a disgusted and angry expression darting across his face. That had definitely not felt unexpectedly good, and even if it had, it was just what his sensors were reporting. This Mirage was still a evil cruel jerk.
With a pleased laugh at his own success -- even if it was a little disappointing, having to be so gentle to get what he wanted -- Mirage continued gently petting Cliffjumper's chest, paying careful attention to his central seam.
Cliffjumper hissed and did his best to ignore what his sensors were telling him, specifically that that felt fraggin'-- scrap, he'd shoot himself before he admitted that what Mirage was doing felt good at all, and in the meantime he snarled and fixed his focus somewhere far away, trying to dampen the shivers of his engine trying to start up without his permission
Mirage wasn't going to have any of that! He harshly slapped Cliffjumper, trying to force the smaller mech to pay attention to him.
That did get Cliffjumper's attention, and he whined in pain before he could stop himself, struggling faintly and continuing to try and ignore the touch on his chest.
Engine beginng to slowly purr in satisfaction despite his own injuries, Mirage lowered his head, licking the seam on Cliffjumper's chest.
Gasp-snarl-struggle, and Cliffjumper dampened his engine back down almost before it could turn over. "Slag you," he hissed at Mirage, voice strained from more than the pain, now.
Mirage's engine was nearly rumbling with excitement, especially as Cliffjumper continued struggling. He pressed himself up against Cliffjumper's chest, biting one of his horns.
He whined, unhappily, and tried to pull his head away from the bite, the shakes from keeping his engine still silent getting harder to keep down. "Slag you," he managed again, biting out the words as viciously as he could.
Mirage moaned, pressing Cliffjumper back, hard, into the scrap heap as his engine kicked into a higher gear. He ground his chest down into Cliffjumper's, his cloak beginning to flicker on and off as his concentration wavered.
Cliffjumper flinched, then whined again, finally catching on that Mirage was getting off on his struggling-- "You pervert," he choked out, and held as still as possible, forcing his shaking down and his terror-- no, not terror, anger, definitely anger-- aside and trying to just not be there, not give Mirage anything...
Mirage snarled, displeased by this new type of resistance, and viciously bit Cliffjumper's jaw, trying to force a reaction out of him.
A sharp, quiet sound of pain, choked down quickly, and Cliffjumper turned his face away, refusing to give Mirage his attention.
"Stop ignoring me!" Mirage burst out, growling in deep frustration and punching Cliffjumper in the face.
A groan of pain, and Cliffjumper shuddered, sullenly and unwillingly reacting to the violence with a low growl and a venemous look.
Encouraged, Mirage punched Cliffjumper again, trying to get a larger reaction out of him.
He got a reaction, a bit-back yelp and a string of curses and the faintest bit of fear oozing into Cliffjumper's defiant expression-- Cliffjumper knew he was giving Mirage exactly what he wanted, but slagitall if he wasn't useless at surpressing his reactions.
"That's more like it," Mirage purred, punching the smaller bot a third time, this time hard enough to force his head back into the scrap heap.
Cliffjumper nearly screamed as his dented head was forcefully reaquainted with some very tough metal, and even he couldn't deny that it was followed by something very close to a sob, entire body shaking from the renewed pain. "Fragging slag-sucking bottomfeeding pervert," he whimpered, "hope you eat a landmine and die," and his voice was shaking harder than the rest of him.
"Is that the best you can do?" Mirage's tone was a mix of amusement at Cliffjumper's words, and gratification that he'd broken through the smaller mech's attempt to ignore him. He hit him once more for good measure, his body shivering with delight as he pressed himself close to Cliffjumper's shaking form.
Another whimpered string of pure profanity, and Cliffjumper was getting desperate enough to try something that might get him killed. Slag. Slag. "Get tossed outta a plane and shatter when you hit the ground," he described, as another potential death-- thoughts too scattered by fear and desperation to give it any real context.
"Come on, where's that imagination I used to admire so?" Amusement was beginning to win out, though it didn't stop Mirage from beginning to pet Cliffjumper's chest once more, hoping goding the smaller mech on.
Cliffjumper's engine purred without his permission, and he whined, trying to shrink deeper into the scrap pile as his strained arm's hand clutched spasmodically at the metal. "S-s-slowly crushed to death, from the feet up," he sobbed, and his hand closed around something heavy and loose on top of the pile, "feeling every inch of your body collapse--"
"That's it, keep going," Mirage purred, and nuzzled Cliffjumper's face, biting at his lip again. His own engine rumbled into a higher gear, but he deliberately damped it down, not wanting to miss a single word.
"Head bashed in," and with a whine of pain Cliffjumper swung the heavy lump of twisted iron to do just that, the sensors in his arm screaming their protest.
Caught off guard, there was nothing for Mirage to do but scream in pain as the iron collided with his head, hard enough to buckle his helm's outer plating. Cloak flickering off, he fell to the side, dazed and half-conscious, inadvertly releasing Cliffjumper from the pin.
Cliffjumper surged to his knees, switching hands and doing it again, then along Mirage's side, sloppy unaimed blows that weren't exactly doing optimal damage but who gave a slag hitting Mirage was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life--
No, no, and he groaned, deep and shaky. He was better than that, he was no torturer or mindless machine of violence... shaking like an aspen leaf, he dropped the hunk of iron and staggered to his feet. "Oh slag," he murmured, and nearly staggered back to his knees, barely catching himself before deciding it would be easier to balance on four wheels...
Barely clinging to consciousness, his head and torso a mess of dents and spilled energon, Mirage still tried to move, rolling off the scrap heap with a broken cry. "Don't go," he whimpered with broken lips, one arm outstretched across the ground, reaching for Cliffjumper. "I-I didn't say you could leave..."
It took all of Cliffjumper's will to not go back and kick Mirage until he stopped moving, and then kick him some more, until he would never move again, and his spark was gone off to whatever burning pit was waiting for it...
Instead, he snarled an uncreative and entirely spark-felt, "Slag you," transformed with a whine of pain, and took off for the Decepticon base, dizzily over-steering and going far too slow, and leaving Mirage behind.