[TF AU] Skyfall
Title: Skyfall
Characters: Skyfire, Starscream, Orion Pax
Universe: Defiance
Rating: M
Warning: bondage, noncon/rape themes, dehumanization of characters
Description: Skyfire receives a summons from his Winglord, and is appalled by what he sees.
Commission Fic for Anonymous
The lift hummed as it sped toward the penthouse, though Skyfire scarcely noticed the noise. He could have taken the shorter route and flew, but it was never smart to advertise when one was visiting the Winglord. Even if one had been invited.
Besides, the lift gave him opportunity to review one of several datapads he had in his subspace. Especially the one on xenolinguistics. Rumor had it a planet in the Sol galaxy was exhibiting the potential for sentient life.
Skyfire hoped his petition to research and explore it would be approved. This was an enormous opportunity that he did not want to miss.
Surely Starscream would understand the importance of this.
The lift donged, depositing him on the topmost floor. Skyfire stowed his datapad and stepped into the atrium. The skylight above let in streams of sunlight, glittering through a new arrangement of precious stones.
Skyfire's wings fluttered in appreciation. It paid to be Winglord, he supposed.
The massive double-doors opposite Skyfire swung open. One of his oldest friends strode into view, his armor shimmering as though recently washed and waxed.
“There you are!” Starscream exclaimed with a bright burst of his energy field. “Took the long way as usual, I see.”
“Nice to see you, too, Star,” Skyfire said with a gentle smile. “It's always a pleasure. Am I here to discuss my proposal? I assure you, it's quite fascinating and--”
“Always to business with you.” Starscream waved him off. “Yes, yes. I'm sure it is. No, I called you here for a different reason.”
“Oh?”
Starscream turned and gestured with one hand, wings flicking fitfully. “Come with me. I want you to see my new toys.”
“Toys?” Skyfire let out an exasperated ex-vent. “Starscream, honestly, I have important work to do.”
Starscream chuckled. “Oh, trust me. This is relevant.”
Skyfire doubted it. He frowned, but followed after his old friend, heading toward the main atrium of the Winglord's suite. Which was curious. Skyfire would have expected to be taken to Starscream's private quarters, not his receiving room. This was usually for entertaining guests.
“I have two,” Starscream explained as they walked, Skyfire drawing up beside him. “But Thundercracker is using one at the moment. This one, I've found, is much more obedient.”
Why on Cybertron would a toy need to be obedient?
A sinking sensation nestled in Skyfire's tanks. He had an uncomfortable suspicion as to what Starscream meant, and he did not like it. He'd heard of such things, usually from other flyers, but never thought his old friend would stop so low.
“Don't you have enough toys as it is?” Skyfire asked, thinking of the library of datapads and the endless venues for entertainment.
Starscream turned toward him, one hand on the door behind him, as he smirked. “One can never have enough recreation, Fire,” he said. “Now come on. I believe you'll really enjoy this one.”
Somehow, Skyfire doubted it.
But he gamely followed Starscream into the Winglord's Atrium, momentarily distracted by the high ceiling and the glass dome. This time of day, the sun shone brightly through the paned glass, leaving a swirling pattern of shadows on the floor. The multiple balconies were open to the breeze, which stirred across Skyfire's wings.
It was the whimper that drew his attention, that had Skyfire slowly turning, and the dread turning to shards of ice in his tanks as his suspicions were proven.
Starscream had made a pet of a grounder.
Worse, he had the poor mech strung up like some kind of display, dripping in chains as he hung from the ceiling, swaying lightly. He was blindfolded and gagged, oral lubricant dribbling from the corners of his mouth.
His arms were bound behind his back, and chains wrapped around his torso suspended him from the ceiling. He wore a collar, and a chain hooked to the back of it ran along his spinal strut, where it connected at his pedes, drawing his helm back at what must have been an uncomfortable angle. A spreader bar at his ankles kept his legs apart, though they were bent at the knees, giving a clear view of his interfacing equipment. Of his modesty panel, there was no sign. His spike was extended, a ring around the base of it and what looked to be a sounding rod firmly inserted, pre-transfluid welling up around it and dripping to the floor. Blue biolights blinked fitfully around an overlarge false spike lodged in his valve.
Skyfire's spark squeezed.
“Its name is Orion,” Starscream purred as he circled around the bound mech, his fingers trailing over the poor grounder's helm. “It's much better behaved than the other. Would you like to try it?”
Skyfire choked on a vent. “Would I like to - Of course I wouldn't!” he spluttered, appalled. “Starscream, he's a living being! A sentient creature!”
Starscream gave him a flat look. “Its a grounder.”
“They aren't pets!” Horror gave away to outrage. His wings vibrated. “Honestly, Starscream. I knew there were others who were engaging in such horrific acts, but I never thought you would stoop so low.”
Starscream's optics narrowed. He pulled away from Orion, and the poor mech gave a whimper of protest, perhaps so desperate for touch that he would take any contact, no matter how perverse.
“Who are you to speak to your Winglord this way?” he asked, chin lifting.
Skyfire scoffed and turned to the side. He couldn't look at Orion. Instead, he hid his face behind his hand.
“I knew you before you gained this title, I have every right,” he said. “And while I have the utmost respect for you, in this moment, I fear I'm losing it. I can't believe you would do such a thing.”
“Can't you?” Starscream shifted, his hydraulics hissing. “What if I told you that he bears the markings?”
Skyfire lowered his hand, his wings flattening against his back. He turned back toward Starscream. “You mean, the ones from the prophecy?”
“The very same.” Crimson optics darkened as Starscream turned back toward his pet and gripped Orion's helm.
He turned the grounder's helm to the side and only then did Skyfire see the glyphs etched around his audial and toward his temple. Skyfire's optics widened, and he forgot about the grounder's uncomfortable position in favor of getting closer.
He reached out, fingers tracing the markings, which were indeed in the old primal vernacular. Just like the prophecy had said.
Orion whimpered.
Skyfire jerked back, tucking his hand against his side. “You really think he's the one?”
“I think it's possible.” Starscream stroked over Orion's helm, something dark and vicious in his optics. “And that means I'm not letting it out of my sight.”
Skyfire worked his jaw. “Killing him would be kinder.” He couldn't bear the sight anymore, and he dropped his gaze so that he wouldn't have to watch Starscream casually molest the poor mech.
The potential Prime of prophecy.
“No. He'll just be reborn, and then I'll have to find it again.” Starscream's optics narrowed, and he gripped one of the mech's audials, prompting another whimper. “I won't let it take from me what's mine.”
Skyfire shook his helm, his tank roiling. “You can't do this, Star. It's wrong. He doesn't deserve this.”
“You don't know what it deserves,” the Winglord hissed and Skyfire felt him near, felt the angry buzz of his energy field wash over Skyfire like a physical attack.
He recoiled, backed toward the door, looked anywhere but at the trussed up mech he could not help.
“He's done nothing,” Skyfire tried to argue, but he didn't dare raise his voice. Not to the Winglord, no matter how old of friends they were. “And I dare wager he doesn't even know what you think he is.”
“It doesn't matter,” Starscream said with a shake of his helm. His hand whipped up and back, pointing accusingly at the chained grounder. “It'll never know if I have anything to say about it. It's going nowhere.”
There was a wild look in Starscream's optics, one that matched the frenetic swirl of his energy field. Beneath the determination, and the outrage, there was fear.
The prophecy of the Prime predicted the downfall of the Winglord. When the servant of the sun goddess Solus fell to the boot of Primus, punished for her treachery in raping the body of their elder god.
Of course Starscream would fear losing the power he'd gained. He'd had to tear it from his twin with claw and talon. He'd surrendered much to keep it.
Skyfire cycled a ventilation. He hung his helm. “I cannot be party to this,” he said, careful to keep his words soft. “I cannot condone this behavior.” And unfortunately, neither could he do anything for Orion.
Starscream was Winglord. He had no equal, save Solus herself.
Skyfire was only the head researcher at their academy of xenoscience. He had no standing, couldn't even lobby the assembly.
He took another step back, toward the door. “This is wrong, Star.”
“Of course you would say that. You've never supported me in anything.” Starscream's vocals were vicious, sharp as vibroblades. He turned back toward Orion. “You're dismissed.”
Sharp as vibroblades and as cold as liquid nitrogen.
Skyfire bowed his helm. “Yes, Winglord.”
He spun on a heelstrut and while he did not run to the exit, it was a near thing. Starscream's energy field was sharp enough to cut and Skyfire's spark throbbed with dismay.
Becoming Winglord had ruined his dear friend. Skyfire had always believed that. And now it had made him weak, made him compromised.
He didn't look over his shoulder as he left. He didn't look back at the friend he did not recognize. He didn't pull out his datapads as he rode the lift back down, worrying his bottom lip between his denta to keep from reacting aloud.
His external chimed.
Skyfire almost didn't dare look at it. But he had never been a coward and so he lifted his right arm, accepting the comm.
There was nothing personal in it, thank Solus. It was an official communication from the office of the Winglord.
His research request had been approved. His mission proposal was a go. The timestamp on it was recent.
Starscream wanted him to leave.
Skyfire cycled a ventilation and closed the comm. He bowed his helm, hands pulling in and out of fists.
Very well.
I pray that you find your way, old friend.
There was nothing more that Skyfire could do on Cybertron. He would seek his dreams among the stars.
But first…
He couldn't imagine leaving Orion there to suffer without trying to alleviate the poor grounder's situation. Skyfire might have very little power in the echelon of the flyers, but he had his contacts. His resources. And with him off-planet, there could be no punishment for his actions.
He would contact Perceptor. At least allow the grounder scientist to contact Orion's kin, if any. They deserved to know their offspring's fate.
It was the very least Skyfire could do.
****
a/n: Part one of two oneshot commissions from Anonymous for the Defiance verse.
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