Weird fic.
This thing is not really... anything like I expected. And yet, it's perfect. There is detailed descriptions of spark-merging, but it's probably the least arousing smut I've ever written. Dub-con, maybe, deff no non-con. Enjoy!
It had not been a good day for Bluestreak. And, he thought in despair, it wasn't even properly begun yet. "Ironhide, sir, I know I'm late, I'm sorry, it's just-" His burgeoning explanation got cut off, the red mech knowing better than to let Bluestreak continue.
"Nah time fer 'splaining, Ah got work of mah own ta do." Ironhide smirked suddenly, motioning at the captive who sat in the Autobot's brig. "Ya can 'splain ta 'im. See ya, Blue'." Waving lazily, Ironhide left.
For a moment, there was actual silence in the brig. Bluestreak ended that soon enough. "You're one of those Stunticons, aren't you? Maybe I will do what Ironhide said and tell you why I'm late, after all, it's kind of your fault so I think I will. I'll also tell you why I'm wet, it's kind of the same thing, you know, the Twins did it, I don't know if they thought it would cheer me up or not but they didn't pick a very good time to play their prank, I should be happy it's just water, they've used paint thinner before, or even paint, sometimes they've threatened to repaint Prowl that way, paint thinner and then paint, but they wouldn't try that now and I would have dried off but I was already late because I spilt some energon on me because I was in a hurry because I recharged for too long."
"I don't want to hear your story," the white and blue mech in the cell muttered the moment Bluestreak took a moment to gulp down the energon he had brought with him. Breakdown didn't think that his wishes would mean anything to the Autobot, but he had to at least try. He squirmed a little, trying to find some way of getting Bluestreak to stop looking at him, and so intently...
"I told you," Bluestreak answered, putting his empty cube down and putting another, full, cube just inside the bars to Breakdown's cell. "It's kind of your fault. I said I was recharging late, that was because I stayed up so long. I couldn't get to recharge very well last night, I was so worried. Your stupid friend Motormaster hit Prowl-"
"He's NOT my friend," Breakdown interrupted, snarling the words out. For a moment he even glared at Bluestreak, but the Autobot's steady gaze drove Breakdown to lower his optics again.
"Well, Prowl is MY friend, and Motormaster is your team leader, and Motormaster almost killed Prowl, we weren't sure he was going to make it!" Bluestreak said, just as angry as the Stunticon.
Settling himself further back in the cell and trying to ignore the energon sitting so temptingly by the bars, Breakdown sneered. "So what? You almost lost your tactician. In case you've forgotten, Autobot, that would be a good thing as far as I'm concerned!" Eh, the energon was probably poisoned anyway... and it wasn't like Breakdown needed it. He'd been given a transfusion at the same time that medic had repaired him, and disabled half his systems, when he was brought in.
"Oh, yes, it would really be a good thing for Prowl to die, you'd just love that, wouldn't you? Then all you Decepticreeps would win and you'd go to Cybertron and kill everyone there. And then you'd be happy, wouldn't you? But you know, I know gestalts, and I know some things you're not telling, and I don't think you'd be anything like as happy as you think you would be, or do you actually not think you'd be happy? I guess it doesn't make any difference..." Bluestreak knew he wasn't being very nice, but with barely two hours of recharge, the long night of worry over Prowl, being late, spilling his energon, being even more late, and running into the Twins' trap, Bluestreak's control was rather strained.
"Oh, stop your babbling! What the pit do you care?" Breakdown snarled again, managing to keep his curling in on himself to a minimum. Why would they even offer the energon, he wondered, trying to distract himself. They had to know he wouldn't take it, so why would they even try?
"I don't know," Bluestreak said, looking right at the white mech and coming closer as he spoke. "I guess I don't really care. I mean, really, what does it matter to me that you have nowhere to go? I saw what Motormaster did to Prowl, I've heard Mirage talk about what he does to you, he doesn't know I'm listening, I'm not quiet often but I can be for a while, and of course, you can't even hope to stay here, can you, no, I know gestalts, I told you that, so no matter where you go or what happens, you're stuck, but hey, like you said, I'm a 'bot, you're a 'con, so who care-"
"Bluestreak!" Ratchet's horrified voice cut through the gray mech's babbling, and Bluestreak jumped, giving Ratchet a guilty look.
"I- I'm sorry, I just, I didn't recharge well-"
"I don't care! I came in here to check our captive, and I find you tormenting him! Go to med-bay and tell First Aid to give you something to scrub, right now. I'll find someone else to watch Breakdown," Ratchet said, pointing at the door. Bluestreak gave one last look at Breakdown, who was now sitting with his arms around his knees, and hurried out of the brig.
Dropping the bars just long enough to step into the cell, Ratchet huffed a little. "He shouldn't have said that. I'm sure something will-"
"He was right," Breakdown snapped, not bothering to evade Ratchet. It wouldn't get him anywhere. "Do your check and get out." As depressing as it was, Bluestreak at least had understood his position. ... mostly... Breakdown's thoughts got broken by Ratchet shoving the cube of energon into his face.
"I'm not leaving until you fuel. Your system logs showed that you've been on starvation rations almost since being sparked. I'm not letting you suffer on my watch and it will help stabilize your processor anyway. So drink," Ratchet answered firmly.
Glaring at the medic, Breakdown ignored the cube. "My processor is fine," he snapped. Fine, if crippling paranoia was 'fine'... After a moment, he huffed and grabbed the cube, feeling more like Dead End. It just wasn't worth the fight. Even if he did offline... so what?
Ratchet watched until the white and blue mech had swallowed every drop of energon in the cube. Satisfied that Breakdown was adequately fueled, he took the empty cube and did a quick, cursory scan before leaving the cell. He then waited outside the cell until a red and blue minibot came in, handing the job of guarding Breakdown to the minibot. The Decepticon Lamborghini held back a groan.
By the time the minibot left, Breakdown was ready to take his head off. The mech never stopped looking at him. And he complained... all the time, and about such stupid little things. He wasn't fully repaired, he'd only had one cube of energon today, the water in the washracks wasn't as hot as he liked it and the cold made his joints freeze. What was even worse than the casual disregard of luxury, Breakdown felt, was the minibot's opinion on his leaders. Optimus was too harsh, didn't listen to other mechs enough, the medics never cared about WHY a mech was injured. Breakdown couldn't really resist the depression that began weighing on him, and he figured it was better than his own urge to throttle the minibot.
Breakdown spent the night thinking and trying not to drown in combined depression and paranoia, reaching over the gestalt bond in a rare attempt to gain comfort from his gestalt mates. They didn't have much for him. Wildrider was peeved that Breakdown was interrupting his 'game', Drag Strip pointed out he was in great shape, and Dead End was too busy with Motormaster to do more than whimper at Breakdown. The Lamborghini closed the link off quickly. He got enough of that first hand, there was no need to experience it second hand as well.
Bluestreak wasn't back to guarding for another two days. Breakdown had actually been on the verge of asking about him.
"Listen, about before, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have said all that stuff and Prowl's okay, really, and I know that it was nasty of me to say those things and-"
"Shut up," Breakdown growled. Why did all the Autobots talk so much? "Everything you said was right and you know it."
For once, Bluestreak actually did fall silent, looking at Breakdown in astonishment. Breakdown took advantage of this by continuing to talk. "I can't stay here. I'm already needing my brothers, in a way you can't even hope to understand. When I go back, I'll be beaten and starved by my own commanders. I could have it worse. No one's gonna rape me. No one is foolish enough to take what belongs to Motormaster. But... you were wrong about just. one. thing." Breakdown waited, watching Bluestreak. It took longer than he had anticipated for the Autobot to react.
"What? What was I wrong about, because I can't think about anything I was wrong about, the Aerialbots have been very helpful telling me what it's all like, having so many minds connected, never being alone, but never being able to leave..." There was a wistfulness to Bluestreak's tone as he spoke about combined nature of gestalts.
"Aerials," Breakdown snorted in dismissal. "They wouldn't know about this. They never talked with the Combaticons, let alone Reflector. But why should I tell you, Autobot? It's not like you'd help us anyway." Breakdown's paranoia had made him cunning and good at reading others, though he usually assigned them far darker motives than the ones that actually moved them. Drag Strip was the psychologist of the Stunticons, reading other's motivations and manipulating them to victory. Breakdown ruthlessly pressed his yellow brother for accurate information regarding Bluestreak, spark pulsing erratically from both need and apprehension.
"Help you, no, you're right about that, even though I should, you're Decepticons, you know what you've don- But Ratchet says you're young and maybe don't know any better and even if you did you're stuck with Motormaster-"
"Exactly!" Breakdown cut in. "We don't have a choice, Motormaster decides everything for us!" They hated him for it, but what could they do?
Bluestreak squirmed, door-wings twitching erratically. His Autobot training to help others warred with his utter loathing of Decepticons. "Well... I... might not help you myself but... I could tell Optimus if there was a way to help you..." Skyfire had been a Decepticon, after all, and he was one of the nicest mechs Bluestreak knew. And the Stunticons were even younger than he was... "Is there?"
Breakdown hesitated for a click, and then nodded, slowly, reluctantly. "Yes... The Combaticons used it once, though it wasn't very safe. A gestalt... it's like a web, you know? This line connects to that line connects to that person connects to this line. You take one person out, and the whole structure just... collapses. But not instantly. There's, oh, a joor, maybe two, before the final, fatal, collapse."
"But if there's a joor or two then there's something that can be done, something that could be done to plug the hole, you said the Combaticons did it, they're the ones who make Bruticus, right, so what did they do?" Bluestreak had come nearly to the bars as Breakdown explained, optics glowing with interest.
"You have it exactly," Breakdown answered, voice barely loud enough to carry to Bluestreak. "You find someone to plug the hole. You replace the dead member with someone else. Of course, it has to be someone who understands gestalts, someone who knows and wants what a gestalt offers." Red optics caught the light as Breakdown looked directly at Bluestreak, not flinching even when their gazes met.
Bluestreak did flinch, stepping back. "I- I said I'd tell Optimus, he knows everyone better than I do, I just talk a lot, he actually listens..."
"Of course," Breakdown answered, sounding bitter but waving Bluestreak away as though there was no issue. "Ask him, by all means. Of course, the surviving gestalt members have to approve of the replacement. But if you think Optimus will find someone better, well... we might consider him, anyway." Breakdown was quite sure no-one else would be anything like compatible. He wasn't even sure Bluestreak would be, but he found the idea of returning to the starvation, beatings, cold and damp, intolerable.
"I- I'll tell him... what happens if... um, what happens if you don't like whomever Optimus finds-" Bluestreak was cut off before he could really hit his stride in babbling.
"There has to be some compatibility. If all of us don't agree on anyone else, I suppose I'll have to go back. Of course, Motormaster will learn what we're planning the first moment we gestalt fully. I can't imagine he'll be pleased." It was a struggle for Breakdown to maintain his mostly calm demeanor, and he knew Bluestreak could hear the fear in his voice, if the Autobot thought to listen.
"Oh." That was all Bluestreak said for a moment. A click later he was calling someone else and begging them to take his shift because he had something to tell Optimus. Breakdown was a little surprised when Prowl walked in and let Bluestreak leave.
Prowl was at least silent, and polite enough not to stare at Breakdown, though the Lamborghini could feel Prowl's gaze on him. There was time to confer with his brothers, even. Motormaster seemed to be recharging; he at least wasn't listening in on the carformers. It was not surprising to find that they were all cautiously hopeful, or in Dead End's case, at least willing to go along with what the others decided. It was only a few hours later than Prowl opened the cell and cuffed Breakdown, something the Stunticon submitted to with as much grace as he could muster. Dead End's fatalism helped.
It was not really a surprise to find that Prowl was taking him to Optimus Prime. The Stunticon could not really resist the shiver that traced down his backstrut from being in the Prime's presence. The color was wrong, that was all...
"Bluestreak tells me you've suggested a way we could help you leave the Decepticons," Optimus said, voice rumbling lowly.
Breakdown twitched, looking around the room a little. Bluestreak was there, and Prowl of course. One of their spies, Smokescreen? and their flighty little security director. Starscream had all sorts of stories about him. Breakdown returned his gaze to Bluestreak, smiling a little and nodding. "I have. I doubt you will when you find what's involved." Goad them, Drag Strip had said. Put them on the defensive, make them promise anything to prove you wrong. They were so honorable, they would keep their promises.
"Why don't you tell us what's involved, Breakdown?" Optimus invited, steel behind his velvet tone. Breakdown grimaced a little.
"I take it I am supposed to pretend you haven't heard this from the derma of your insulting little guard there," Breakdown answered, looking away from Bluestreak just long enough to see the tightening in Optimus' jaw. No insulting Bluestreak, then... "I'll humor you. It's very simple. With Motormaster dead, our bonds will destabilize. We will need to bond another mech to keep the destabilization from becoming fatal."
"What changes would you experience?" Prowl asked, voice as unemotional as ever.
Barely keeping from rolling his optics, Breakdown turned to face Prowl. "Well, we wouldn't be able to combine to form Menasor, not without chassis mods for alla us. Wouldn't have Motormaster's sadism clouding our processors." He sneered at Prowl as he said that, remembering Bluestreak's ramble about Prowl's health. Prowl, predictably, didn't respond.
"What do you mean when you say bond?" Red Alert was the one to ask this time, gaze not quite settled on the white and blue Lamborghini. Breakdown grinned, staring right at the other Lamborghini.
"I mean bond. What other meaning is there? Spark to spark, lifetime companionship." The white and red Lamborghini flinched, and Breakdown glanced at Bluestreak again. "Of course, like any bonding, the bonds would have to be strengthened regularly." He was feeling the strain of that, but he was used to it. Motormaster didn't let any of them interface unless he was there to control it. It sated the needs of the bond, but that was about all that could be said of it.
"What would you expect?" Optimus said, cutting through the rising embarrassment in the room. "We cannot allow you to terrorize humans or engage in any other-"
"Oh, stuff it," Breakdown interrupted, patience abruptly snapping. "You do not understand the first thing of our life! Give us a place to stay, medical care, fuel, warm wash-racks and clean air, a leader, yes, he will be our leader, and we will fight for you, we will obey your slagging rules. You know who we're interested in, I'm sure. Who else is volunteering?"
Optimus gave Breakdown a disapproving look, which Breakdown ignored. Very patiently, the red and blue semi answered the Stunticon's question. "Prowl, Smokescreen, and Red Alert have... Suggested they may be more fitting-" He stopped as Breakdown stood.
"Red Alert?" Breakdown asked, not even trying to keep the disdain from his voice as he looked back at the other Lamborghini. "You are not thinking at all. He is more paranoid than I am, and you want us to gestalt? He'd surprise us by even being capable of letting us bond him! No, he will not do." Nodding with more respect than his words showed, Breakdown went to the brightly-colored Smokescreen.
"You... what do you know about gestalts, I wonder? You're that one wandering around, lying and deceiving, aren't you? And a spy, you'd probably report everything back to Optimus... Could you even be truthful to us? No, too many lies, too little trust, respect. No." Shaking his head in shock that Optimus would even offer that mech, Breakdown moved on. Hopefully enough of what he had said about Smokescreen had been correct...
"Prowl..." He would have touched Prowl, if he were able, just to see the other flinch. "We know about your glitch. You would never survive Wildrider. And.... you are too impersonal. You would perhaps bring stability, but you would never more than tolerate us. No." Prowl nodded at the explanation.
"Optimus will not force anyone to do this," Prowl said.
Breakdown was already walking towards Bluestreak, who was visibly nervous. "Of course not. Force would be meaningless, it has to be voluntary. He will be sharing everything, he will have our presence in the back of his processor forever, just as we will have his. Force would just lead to another situation we would want to escape." He didn't look away from Bluestreak, silently pleading with the Autobot.
"I... I'll think about it, that's all I can, I just..."
"Think about it. But keep in mind how long I've been away from my mates," Breakdown answered, voice low as he tried to make it as non carrying as possible. Stepping away from the grey mech, he looked at Prowl. "Back to the brig, I suppose."
Bluestreak watched the Stunticon follow Prowl out of the room, and then looked around. Optimus was getting ready to say something... "I have to go, I need to think a little, it's really my choice and I'm not afraid or anything I just need to think so yeah." He left before Optimus could say anything. He really wasn't afraid of Breakdown, Bluestreak realized. The Stunticon had gone out of his way to impress that it was a choice...
"It's not like he's even threatened to hurt me if I don't do this," Bluestreak muttered as he drew closer to the store-room he was going for. "Though of course Motormaster would be angry with me. Or would he be angry at them? But they're Decpeticons... But... they'd... be changing? And I wonder what he meant, about a berth and warm water and... But I'd have to keep them all in control, I don't know how to do that, but maybe they'd be grateful, ha, Decepticons grateful, but..." Inside the room, Bluestreak slumped a little, doorwings drooping.
"I wouldn't be alone. And if Motormaster is half as bad as I've heard, they really don't have a choice... aren't they as young as the Aerialbots, and been starved and... But I heard him, it's forever, and if they decide they don't like me, or if I don't like them, it can't be broken... or can it, I've heard rumors about being able to break bonds, but it would probably mean I'd need to find a new gestalt myself to survive, I wonder if Fireflight was serious when he said they thought I was cute, but I guess it doesn't matter, because I guess they want me and- Primus." What he had said caught up to Bluestreak's processor. He had just seen Breakdown flat off reject three of the smartest and best-looking of the Autobots... for him? In uncharacteristic silence, Bluestreak marched down to the brig. Prowl unobtrusively left when the gray mech walked in, leaving Bluestreak alone with Breakdown.
"Back so soon?" Breakdown asked, pacing in his cell. It had been three days since he had seen his brothers, and even longer since he had been able to reaffirm their bonds. One way or another, he needed this to end.
"Even if Optimus did find someone else suitable to lead you, you wouldn't take him, would you?" Bluestreak asked, making it as short and to the point as he could.
"There is no-one else suitable," Breakdown answered, barely keeping himself from snarling. "Because we don't want anyone but you."
"Why me? I shoot at you in battle and then I come here and I insult you and you know I hate Decepticons so why me?"
"You understand us well enough to insult me. You're direct and honest. ... You're cute." Breakdown was slow to add that last part, but Wildrider insisted that it should be said. His optics were drawn to Bluestreak's wings, which were trembling violently. "...Drag Strip likes to race. He's the yellow one. He likes to win. He plays dirty, but if we're supposed to behave... he'll still need watching at first. Wildrider, he's the black one? He needs attention. Sometimes he's almost sweet. He's the one who made me say you're cute. Dead End isn't very enthusiastic, but that's just because he's sure he'll die at any given moment. He's red, and gorgeous. You already know I'm paranoid..."
Bluestreak thought he might have been able to say no if Breakdown hadn't done that. He had seen the Stunticons, of course. But hearing their names, personalities... hearing Breakdown's affection for them, hidden as it was... "I'll... do it. I- I'll take Motormaster's place. How..."
"The three of them will be able to overpower him. He won't expect an attack from us, especially not a lethal one. They're already close, all of them miss me, even if they won't admit it. Tell your Prime we'll need... med-bay, most likely. I hope none of your medics mind watching... there are likely to be injuries, and we won't have time to wait on the bonding."
"O- okay. Are you sure you won't need any help or anything, I mean, we've got-"
"No," Breakdown answered, shaking his head. "It would just alert Motormaster. We'll only need the help afterwards... Now go tell Prime. Please."
Bluestreak gave a shaky nod, hurrying out. Prowl, apparently just outside, came in as the grey mech left. "If you hurt him, I will find a way to make you suffer," the black and white mech said conversationally.
"Keep us locked up out of sight of each other and only let us merge once a week. Is it so hard for you to imagine we might mean this?" Breakdown answered.
Prowl didn't answer. An hour later, apparently after hearing something over his comm, he opened the cell to cuff Breakdown again, who was barely able to make himself stand still long enough for the cuffs to be put on. "You should tell your brothers to proceed. Optimus is not very happy, though. Would it be better if you were waiting in the med-bay, or at the doors?"
"Doors. Is there any chance Bluestreak could wait with me?" Breakdown said, following Prowl as he was led, once again, through the halls.
"Yes. Ratchet and Perceptor are the medics on duty. I will remain as a guard."
"They're about two hours out, at top speed. Four hours if you assume injuries," Breakdown said this as Bluestreak came up. "I have told them everything is ready. I am... sorry, this bonding will not be as gentle as I am sure you dreamed." The last was said directly to Bluestreak, uncomfortably.
"I... never really thought about it at all, and I understand the need to hurry and... I'd rather not talk about it at all, though I'm not sure what else to talk about..." Breakdown smiled faintly as Bluestreak began to ramble, and neither Prowl nor himself tried to stop the grey mech. Breakdown couldn't stop the flinch that came ten minutes later, though.
"Are you well?" Prowl asked, stepping forward, only to have Breakdown wave him off.
"Tell Ratchet and Perceptor that Wildrider is going to need emergency care. If he offlines, we might just need you after all, Prowl," Breakdown explained, smirking ironically and trying to hide his worry.
"You should have let us help, you and I could have gone out there and helped and then we wouldn't have to worry about the time limit for bonding and we would have been able to get here faster as well I bet and we should have helped..."
"Hush, kid. Bluestreak. We couldn't- ah!" Breakdown dropped to a knee, hunching in on himself. "Come on, 'End, do it... you've got him, you've got him, just do it... ah!" He shrieked, pain obvious as he fell over, vents working hard. Bluestreak reacted to the sight of a mech in pain by hurrying to his side, kneeling, hands hovering just short of touching the white and blue armor.
"Breakdown? Breakdown, what's going on! Tell me!" Bluestreak found he was panicking, wings trembling again. The Lamborghini had gone still, only the whir of vents indicating that he was still online for a long moment. Finally, he sat up, weakly.
"He's dead." Breakdown gave a dreamy smile, looking at Bluestreak with very hazy optics. "Motormaster's offline. We're free... Get your afts over here! Come on, Drag'... it's a race, you can do it. Wild, move, you want to see his cute aft, don't you? Why the slag is 'End the only one mov- there we go. That's right... They're coming now. Three hours. Can you have energon for them, Prowl? Drag' will at least have time to drink while I'm with Bluestreak."
"It will be waiting."
"Prowl... I really, really don't think we should leave him cuffed, I mean, really, and it's not going to help anything later anyway and, um, I just really don't think..." Bluestreak trailed away for a little while when Prowl came closer, nodding in agreement before removing the cuffs. Breakdown rubbed at his wrists but didn't do anything else. He was pleased when Bluestreak started to babble again. The grey mech's voice was distracting, and Breakdown needed the distraction.
"They're here," he said, almost half a joor later, looking toward the horizon. Bluestreak and Prowl looked up too, just as the other three Stunticons came into view. Bluestreak shivered, and then followed Breakdown to them, finding a red and black Dead End more or less shoved into his arms by a worried Drag Strip. Dead End was limping heavily, and it was a surprise that Wildrider was still moving, even with Drag Strip and now Breakdown helping him. Prowl lead them to med bay while Bluestreak tried not to think about anything more than helping fellow mechs get to help.
"Get him to a berth! Perceptor will stop his leaking and then help me with..." Ratchet wasn't sure which Stunticon was which, but it was clear enough what he meant. Bluestreak helped Dead End sit down, and then found himself facing Breakdown, who had two cubes of energon. Dead End took one, not seeming to notice as the red Autobot began to clamp the tubing in his leg.
"Drink. You'll need the energy. You need to do us all, and then all at once. I'll drink while you're with my brothers." Breakdown was as quiet and gentle as he knew how to be, guiding Bluestreak to a third berth, a little more away from everyone.
"Just... open and...?" Bluestreak couldn't make himself finish. He was no innocent, but this was something entirely different. He drank the energon without tasting it, watching Breakdown fearfully.
Breakdown nodded, reaching out to rub Bluestreak's shoulder and pleased when the grey mech barely flinched. "I don't think we have the time or energy to do much else." Biting his glossa and looking away from Bluestreak to Dead End and Drag Strip, Breakdown took the first step, unlatching his chest plates and baring himself with a shiver. The medics weren't watching, he noticed. That helped.
"I, you're, probably right, even if it doesn't seem right but yeah..." He couldn't do anything less than bare himself, especially when Bluestreak knew how much Breakdown hated to be watched, and he babbled as he did so, a quiet murmur of words. Breakdown ignored them, moving to merge their sparks and offering his self to Bluestreak, likewise ignoring the frisson of fear and pleasure the contact brought.
Bluestreak moved into the presence Breakdown offered, slow to realize exactly what he was touching. Every memory was here, every hurt, every hope, every crushed dream and painful cruelty. Breakdown was not a particularly nice mech, prone to violence against those who would not leave him alone, and Motormaster had used that, goading him, looking at him, showing him off, and reinforcing the belief that everyone was out to get the Lamborghini, most especially Motormaster himself.
For being so short, Breakdown's life was horrifically brutal, and Bluestreak was keening as he came to the end of it. Offering himself in return was instinctual, he wanted to soothe the pain. His own life had not been pleasant, almost entirely lived during the war, but he did have friends, he had rarely gone hungry or unrepaired...
Breakdown accepted it desperately, and the bond locked into place as they overloaded, much to Bluestreak's surprise. Looking up, he found Drag Strip waiting, handing a cube to Breakdown, who seemed half in a trance.
"Please. He's happy. Please..." Drag Strip was already opening, looking at Bluestreak. The grey mech nodded, reaching up and pulling the yellow car down. They were here for him. And if they were all as hurt as Breakdown...
The hurts were different, Drag Strip only given cold praise, only when he won perfectly. He was praised more when he hurt others in his winning, and ridiculed mercilessly when he failed in the slightest manner. Bluestreak embraced him, stroking and babbling about how strong he was, how strong they all were, and everything would be right, giving himself over to the Stunticon to prove it and moaning as overload finalized the bond once again.
Bluestreak was almost eager when Drag Strip helped him over to Dead End. Perceptor had finished, enough to help with Wildrider, though they would all need more extensive repairs later. "I don't know why you're bothering," Dead End asked harshly, shaking as he opened.
He didn't know either, or didn't want to say. Bluestreak simply bent, half laying on Dead End and half holding him as they merged. The pain of being dismissed, belittled, told that he should just die, that he wouldn't die no matter what happened until Motormaster allowed it... Bluestreak moaned, found himself kissing Dead End mindlessly, light touches of derma to armor. His brothers wanted him. Bluestreak wanted to know him, wanted to want him. Death would come, but it was best to live in the meantime. They overloaded with a strangled scream, and Bluestreak moaned under the weight of a third bond, dizzy and tired.
Once again he was helped, Drag Strip and Breakdown both moving him over to Wildrider. He was barely awake, optics watching Bluestreak as everyone tried to ignore Ratchet and Perceptor working frantically on saving the Ferrari's life. It was fairly insane to bond a mech who was still caught between living or dying... Insane, Bluestreak found as sparks mingled, was a good word to describe anything involving Wildrider. Things made very little sense to him, colors, words, objects, scents, everything seemed to change from one moment to the next. Only his brothers were ever the same, and when they surrounded him, things were stable. Motormaster loved to send him away, on missions, on duty, on punishment... Bluestreak whimpered, and Wildrider shrieked as overload countered the pain for a moment.
One more... Just one more. Ratchet and Perceptor let themselves be moved away, grumbling, as the four mechs surrounded Wildrider. The merging this time was different. Five sparks, yes, but that wasn't what did it... Menasor was not brutalized, was not injured or terrorized. He simply did not understand the world, finding it a profusion of explosions, fighting, pains and pleasures, fear in his own processor. He accepted Bluestreak easily, curiously, placing the new mech into the hole Motormaster had left. For a glorious moment, they were one, a single mech in five bodies, and then they were themselves again, and slowly the gestalt fell into recharge. Prowl helped Ratchet and Perceptor move the mechs, and then they continued with repairs.
Rest is here.
It had not been a good day for Bluestreak. And, he thought in despair, it wasn't even properly begun yet. "Ironhide, sir, I know I'm late, I'm sorry, it's just-" His burgeoning explanation got cut off, the red mech knowing better than to let Bluestreak continue.
"Nah time fer 'splaining, Ah got work of mah own ta do." Ironhide smirked suddenly, motioning at the captive who sat in the Autobot's brig. "Ya can 'splain ta 'im. See ya, Blue'." Waving lazily, Ironhide left.
For a moment, there was actual silence in the brig. Bluestreak ended that soon enough. "You're one of those Stunticons, aren't you? Maybe I will do what Ironhide said and tell you why I'm late, after all, it's kind of your fault so I think I will. I'll also tell you why I'm wet, it's kind of the same thing, you know, the Twins did it, I don't know if they thought it would cheer me up or not but they didn't pick a very good time to play their prank, I should be happy it's just water, they've used paint thinner before, or even paint, sometimes they've threatened to repaint Prowl that way, paint thinner and then paint, but they wouldn't try that now and I would have dried off but I was already late because I spilt some energon on me because I was in a hurry because I recharged for too long."
"I don't want to hear your story," the white and blue mech in the cell muttered the moment Bluestreak took a moment to gulp down the energon he had brought with him. Breakdown didn't think that his wishes would mean anything to the Autobot, but he had to at least try. He squirmed a little, trying to find some way of getting Bluestreak to stop looking at him, and so intently...
"I told you," Bluestreak answered, putting his empty cube down and putting another, full, cube just inside the bars to Breakdown's cell. "It's kind of your fault. I said I was recharging late, that was because I stayed up so long. I couldn't get to recharge very well last night, I was so worried. Your stupid friend Motormaster hit Prowl-"
"He's NOT my friend," Breakdown interrupted, snarling the words out. For a moment he even glared at Bluestreak, but the Autobot's steady gaze drove Breakdown to lower his optics again.
"Well, Prowl is MY friend, and Motormaster is your team leader, and Motormaster almost killed Prowl, we weren't sure he was going to make it!" Bluestreak said, just as angry as the Stunticon.
Settling himself further back in the cell and trying to ignore the energon sitting so temptingly by the bars, Breakdown sneered. "So what? You almost lost your tactician. In case you've forgotten, Autobot, that would be a good thing as far as I'm concerned!" Eh, the energon was probably poisoned anyway... and it wasn't like Breakdown needed it. He'd been given a transfusion at the same time that medic had repaired him, and disabled half his systems, when he was brought in.
"Oh, yes, it would really be a good thing for Prowl to die, you'd just love that, wouldn't you? Then all you Decepticreeps would win and you'd go to Cybertron and kill everyone there. And then you'd be happy, wouldn't you? But you know, I know gestalts, and I know some things you're not telling, and I don't think you'd be anything like as happy as you think you would be, or do you actually not think you'd be happy? I guess it doesn't make any difference..." Bluestreak knew he wasn't being very nice, but with barely two hours of recharge, the long night of worry over Prowl, being late, spilling his energon, being even more late, and running into the Twins' trap, Bluestreak's control was rather strained.
"Oh, stop your babbling! What the pit do you care?" Breakdown snarled again, managing to keep his curling in on himself to a minimum. Why would they even offer the energon, he wondered, trying to distract himself. They had to know he wouldn't take it, so why would they even try?
"I don't know," Bluestreak said, looking right at the white mech and coming closer as he spoke. "I guess I don't really care. I mean, really, what does it matter to me that you have nowhere to go? I saw what Motormaster did to Prowl, I've heard Mirage talk about what he does to you, he doesn't know I'm listening, I'm not quiet often but I can be for a while, and of course, you can't even hope to stay here, can you, no, I know gestalts, I told you that, so no matter where you go or what happens, you're stuck, but hey, like you said, I'm a 'bot, you're a 'con, so who care-"
"Bluestreak!" Ratchet's horrified voice cut through the gray mech's babbling, and Bluestreak jumped, giving Ratchet a guilty look.
"I- I'm sorry, I just, I didn't recharge well-"
"I don't care! I came in here to check our captive, and I find you tormenting him! Go to med-bay and tell First Aid to give you something to scrub, right now. I'll find someone else to watch Breakdown," Ratchet said, pointing at the door. Bluestreak gave one last look at Breakdown, who was now sitting with his arms around his knees, and hurried out of the brig.
Dropping the bars just long enough to step into the cell, Ratchet huffed a little. "He shouldn't have said that. I'm sure something will-"
"He was right," Breakdown snapped, not bothering to evade Ratchet. It wouldn't get him anywhere. "Do your check and get out." As depressing as it was, Bluestreak at least had understood his position. ... mostly... Breakdown's thoughts got broken by Ratchet shoving the cube of energon into his face.
"I'm not leaving until you fuel. Your system logs showed that you've been on starvation rations almost since being sparked. I'm not letting you suffer on my watch and it will help stabilize your processor anyway. So drink," Ratchet answered firmly.
Glaring at the medic, Breakdown ignored the cube. "My processor is fine," he snapped. Fine, if crippling paranoia was 'fine'... After a moment, he huffed and grabbed the cube, feeling more like Dead End. It just wasn't worth the fight. Even if he did offline... so what?
Ratchet watched until the white and blue mech had swallowed every drop of energon in the cube. Satisfied that Breakdown was adequately fueled, he took the empty cube and did a quick, cursory scan before leaving the cell. He then waited outside the cell until a red and blue minibot came in, handing the job of guarding Breakdown to the minibot. The Decepticon Lamborghini held back a groan.
By the time the minibot left, Breakdown was ready to take his head off. The mech never stopped looking at him. And he complained... all the time, and about such stupid little things. He wasn't fully repaired, he'd only had one cube of energon today, the water in the washracks wasn't as hot as he liked it and the cold made his joints freeze. What was even worse than the casual disregard of luxury, Breakdown felt, was the minibot's opinion on his leaders. Optimus was too harsh, didn't listen to other mechs enough, the medics never cared about WHY a mech was injured. Breakdown couldn't really resist the depression that began weighing on him, and he figured it was better than his own urge to throttle the minibot.
Breakdown spent the night thinking and trying not to drown in combined depression and paranoia, reaching over the gestalt bond in a rare attempt to gain comfort from his gestalt mates. They didn't have much for him. Wildrider was peeved that Breakdown was interrupting his 'game', Drag Strip pointed out he was in great shape, and Dead End was too busy with Motormaster to do more than whimper at Breakdown. The Lamborghini closed the link off quickly. He got enough of that first hand, there was no need to experience it second hand as well.
Bluestreak wasn't back to guarding for another two days. Breakdown had actually been on the verge of asking about him.
"Listen, about before, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have said all that stuff and Prowl's okay, really, and I know that it was nasty of me to say those things and-"
"Shut up," Breakdown growled. Why did all the Autobots talk so much? "Everything you said was right and you know it."
For once, Bluestreak actually did fall silent, looking at Breakdown in astonishment. Breakdown took advantage of this by continuing to talk. "I can't stay here. I'm already needing my brothers, in a way you can't even hope to understand. When I go back, I'll be beaten and starved by my own commanders. I could have it worse. No one's gonna rape me. No one is foolish enough to take what belongs to Motormaster. But... you were wrong about just. one. thing." Breakdown waited, watching Bluestreak. It took longer than he had anticipated for the Autobot to react.
"What? What was I wrong about, because I can't think about anything I was wrong about, the Aerialbots have been very helpful telling me what it's all like, having so many minds connected, never being alone, but never being able to leave..." There was a wistfulness to Bluestreak's tone as he spoke about combined nature of gestalts.
"Aerials," Breakdown snorted in dismissal. "They wouldn't know about this. They never talked with the Combaticons, let alone Reflector. But why should I tell you, Autobot? It's not like you'd help us anyway." Breakdown's paranoia had made him cunning and good at reading others, though he usually assigned them far darker motives than the ones that actually moved them. Drag Strip was the psychologist of the Stunticons, reading other's motivations and manipulating them to victory. Breakdown ruthlessly pressed his yellow brother for accurate information regarding Bluestreak, spark pulsing erratically from both need and apprehension.
"Help you, no, you're right about that, even though I should, you're Decepticons, you know what you've don- But Ratchet says you're young and maybe don't know any better and even if you did you're stuck with Motormaster-"
"Exactly!" Breakdown cut in. "We don't have a choice, Motormaster decides everything for us!" They hated him for it, but what could they do?
Bluestreak squirmed, door-wings twitching erratically. His Autobot training to help others warred with his utter loathing of Decepticons. "Well... I... might not help you myself but... I could tell Optimus if there was a way to help you..." Skyfire had been a Decepticon, after all, and he was one of the nicest mechs Bluestreak knew. And the Stunticons were even younger than he was... "Is there?"
Breakdown hesitated for a click, and then nodded, slowly, reluctantly. "Yes... The Combaticons used it once, though it wasn't very safe. A gestalt... it's like a web, you know? This line connects to that line connects to that person connects to this line. You take one person out, and the whole structure just... collapses. But not instantly. There's, oh, a joor, maybe two, before the final, fatal, collapse."
"But if there's a joor or two then there's something that can be done, something that could be done to plug the hole, you said the Combaticons did it, they're the ones who make Bruticus, right, so what did they do?" Bluestreak had come nearly to the bars as Breakdown explained, optics glowing with interest.
"You have it exactly," Breakdown answered, voice barely loud enough to carry to Bluestreak. "You find someone to plug the hole. You replace the dead member with someone else. Of course, it has to be someone who understands gestalts, someone who knows and wants what a gestalt offers." Red optics caught the light as Breakdown looked directly at Bluestreak, not flinching even when their gazes met.
Bluestreak did flinch, stepping back. "I- I said I'd tell Optimus, he knows everyone better than I do, I just talk a lot, he actually listens..."
"Of course," Breakdown answered, sounding bitter but waving Bluestreak away as though there was no issue. "Ask him, by all means. Of course, the surviving gestalt members have to approve of the replacement. But if you think Optimus will find someone better, well... we might consider him, anyway." Breakdown was quite sure no-one else would be anything like compatible. He wasn't even sure Bluestreak would be, but he found the idea of returning to the starvation, beatings, cold and damp, intolerable.
"I- I'll tell him... what happens if... um, what happens if you don't like whomever Optimus finds-" Bluestreak was cut off before he could really hit his stride in babbling.
"There has to be some compatibility. If all of us don't agree on anyone else, I suppose I'll have to go back. Of course, Motormaster will learn what we're planning the first moment we gestalt fully. I can't imagine he'll be pleased." It was a struggle for Breakdown to maintain his mostly calm demeanor, and he knew Bluestreak could hear the fear in his voice, if the Autobot thought to listen.
"Oh." That was all Bluestreak said for a moment. A click later he was calling someone else and begging them to take his shift because he had something to tell Optimus. Breakdown was a little surprised when Prowl walked in and let Bluestreak leave.
Prowl was at least silent, and polite enough not to stare at Breakdown, though the Lamborghini could feel Prowl's gaze on him. There was time to confer with his brothers, even. Motormaster seemed to be recharging; he at least wasn't listening in on the carformers. It was not surprising to find that they were all cautiously hopeful, or in Dead End's case, at least willing to go along with what the others decided. It was only a few hours later than Prowl opened the cell and cuffed Breakdown, something the Stunticon submitted to with as much grace as he could muster. Dead End's fatalism helped.
It was not really a surprise to find that Prowl was taking him to Optimus Prime. The Stunticon could not really resist the shiver that traced down his backstrut from being in the Prime's presence. The color was wrong, that was all...
"Bluestreak tells me you've suggested a way we could help you leave the Decepticons," Optimus said, voice rumbling lowly.
Breakdown twitched, looking around the room a little. Bluestreak was there, and Prowl of course. One of their spies, Smokescreen? and their flighty little security director. Starscream had all sorts of stories about him. Breakdown returned his gaze to Bluestreak, smiling a little and nodding. "I have. I doubt you will when you find what's involved." Goad them, Drag Strip had said. Put them on the defensive, make them promise anything to prove you wrong. They were so honorable, they would keep their promises.
"Why don't you tell us what's involved, Breakdown?" Optimus invited, steel behind his velvet tone. Breakdown grimaced a little.
"I take it I am supposed to pretend you haven't heard this from the derma of your insulting little guard there," Breakdown answered, looking away from Bluestreak just long enough to see the tightening in Optimus' jaw. No insulting Bluestreak, then... "I'll humor you. It's very simple. With Motormaster dead, our bonds will destabilize. We will need to bond another mech to keep the destabilization from becoming fatal."
"What changes would you experience?" Prowl asked, voice as unemotional as ever.
Barely keeping from rolling his optics, Breakdown turned to face Prowl. "Well, we wouldn't be able to combine to form Menasor, not without chassis mods for alla us. Wouldn't have Motormaster's sadism clouding our processors." He sneered at Prowl as he said that, remembering Bluestreak's ramble about Prowl's health. Prowl, predictably, didn't respond.
"What do you mean when you say bond?" Red Alert was the one to ask this time, gaze not quite settled on the white and blue Lamborghini. Breakdown grinned, staring right at the other Lamborghini.
"I mean bond. What other meaning is there? Spark to spark, lifetime companionship." The white and red Lamborghini flinched, and Breakdown glanced at Bluestreak again. "Of course, like any bonding, the bonds would have to be strengthened regularly." He was feeling the strain of that, but he was used to it. Motormaster didn't let any of them interface unless he was there to control it. It sated the needs of the bond, but that was about all that could be said of it.
"What would you expect?" Optimus said, cutting through the rising embarrassment in the room. "We cannot allow you to terrorize humans or engage in any other-"
"Oh, stuff it," Breakdown interrupted, patience abruptly snapping. "You do not understand the first thing of our life! Give us a place to stay, medical care, fuel, warm wash-racks and clean air, a leader, yes, he will be our leader, and we will fight for you, we will obey your slagging rules. You know who we're interested in, I'm sure. Who else is volunteering?"
Optimus gave Breakdown a disapproving look, which Breakdown ignored. Very patiently, the red and blue semi answered the Stunticon's question. "Prowl, Smokescreen, and Red Alert have... Suggested they may be more fitting-" He stopped as Breakdown stood.
"Red Alert?" Breakdown asked, not even trying to keep the disdain from his voice as he looked back at the other Lamborghini. "You are not thinking at all. He is more paranoid than I am, and you want us to gestalt? He'd surprise us by even being capable of letting us bond him! No, he will not do." Nodding with more respect than his words showed, Breakdown went to the brightly-colored Smokescreen.
"You... what do you know about gestalts, I wonder? You're that one wandering around, lying and deceiving, aren't you? And a spy, you'd probably report everything back to Optimus... Could you even be truthful to us? No, too many lies, too little trust, respect. No." Shaking his head in shock that Optimus would even offer that mech, Breakdown moved on. Hopefully enough of what he had said about Smokescreen had been correct...
"Prowl..." He would have touched Prowl, if he were able, just to see the other flinch. "We know about your glitch. You would never survive Wildrider. And.... you are too impersonal. You would perhaps bring stability, but you would never more than tolerate us. No." Prowl nodded at the explanation.
"Optimus will not force anyone to do this," Prowl said.
Breakdown was already walking towards Bluestreak, who was visibly nervous. "Of course not. Force would be meaningless, it has to be voluntary. He will be sharing everything, he will have our presence in the back of his processor forever, just as we will have his. Force would just lead to another situation we would want to escape." He didn't look away from Bluestreak, silently pleading with the Autobot.
"I... I'll think about it, that's all I can, I just..."
"Think about it. But keep in mind how long I've been away from my mates," Breakdown answered, voice low as he tried to make it as non carrying as possible. Stepping away from the grey mech, he looked at Prowl. "Back to the brig, I suppose."
Bluestreak watched the Stunticon follow Prowl out of the room, and then looked around. Optimus was getting ready to say something... "I have to go, I need to think a little, it's really my choice and I'm not afraid or anything I just need to think so yeah." He left before Optimus could say anything. He really wasn't afraid of Breakdown, Bluestreak realized. The Stunticon had gone out of his way to impress that it was a choice...
"It's not like he's even threatened to hurt me if I don't do this," Bluestreak muttered as he drew closer to the store-room he was going for. "Though of course Motormaster would be angry with me. Or would he be angry at them? But they're Decpeticons... But... they'd... be changing? And I wonder what he meant, about a berth and warm water and... But I'd have to keep them all in control, I don't know how to do that, but maybe they'd be grateful, ha, Decepticons grateful, but..." Inside the room, Bluestreak slumped a little, doorwings drooping.
"I wouldn't be alone. And if Motormaster is half as bad as I've heard, they really don't have a choice... aren't they as young as the Aerialbots, and been starved and... But I heard him, it's forever, and if they decide they don't like me, or if I don't like them, it can't be broken... or can it, I've heard rumors about being able to break bonds, but it would probably mean I'd need to find a new gestalt myself to survive, I wonder if Fireflight was serious when he said they thought I was cute, but I guess it doesn't matter, because I guess they want me and- Primus." What he had said caught up to Bluestreak's processor. He had just seen Breakdown flat off reject three of the smartest and best-looking of the Autobots... for him? In uncharacteristic silence, Bluestreak marched down to the brig. Prowl unobtrusively left when the gray mech walked in, leaving Bluestreak alone with Breakdown.
"Back so soon?" Breakdown asked, pacing in his cell. It had been three days since he had seen his brothers, and even longer since he had been able to reaffirm their bonds. One way or another, he needed this to end.
"Even if Optimus did find someone else suitable to lead you, you wouldn't take him, would you?" Bluestreak asked, making it as short and to the point as he could.
"There is no-one else suitable," Breakdown answered, barely keeping himself from snarling. "Because we don't want anyone but you."
"Why me? I shoot at you in battle and then I come here and I insult you and you know I hate Decepticons so why me?"
"You understand us well enough to insult me. You're direct and honest. ... You're cute." Breakdown was slow to add that last part, but Wildrider insisted that it should be said. His optics were drawn to Bluestreak's wings, which were trembling violently. "...Drag Strip likes to race. He's the yellow one. He likes to win. He plays dirty, but if we're supposed to behave... he'll still need watching at first. Wildrider, he's the black one? He needs attention. Sometimes he's almost sweet. He's the one who made me say you're cute. Dead End isn't very enthusiastic, but that's just because he's sure he'll die at any given moment. He's red, and gorgeous. You already know I'm paranoid..."
Bluestreak thought he might have been able to say no if Breakdown hadn't done that. He had seen the Stunticons, of course. But hearing their names, personalities... hearing Breakdown's affection for them, hidden as it was... "I'll... do it. I- I'll take Motormaster's place. How..."
"The three of them will be able to overpower him. He won't expect an attack from us, especially not a lethal one. They're already close, all of them miss me, even if they won't admit it. Tell your Prime we'll need... med-bay, most likely. I hope none of your medics mind watching... there are likely to be injuries, and we won't have time to wait on the bonding."
"O- okay. Are you sure you won't need any help or anything, I mean, we've got-"
"No," Breakdown answered, shaking his head. "It would just alert Motormaster. We'll only need the help afterwards... Now go tell Prime. Please."
Bluestreak gave a shaky nod, hurrying out. Prowl, apparently just outside, came in as the grey mech left. "If you hurt him, I will find a way to make you suffer," the black and white mech said conversationally.
"Keep us locked up out of sight of each other and only let us merge once a week. Is it so hard for you to imagine we might mean this?" Breakdown answered.
Prowl didn't answer. An hour later, apparently after hearing something over his comm, he opened the cell to cuff Breakdown again, who was barely able to make himself stand still long enough for the cuffs to be put on. "You should tell your brothers to proceed. Optimus is not very happy, though. Would it be better if you were waiting in the med-bay, or at the doors?"
"Doors. Is there any chance Bluestreak could wait with me?" Breakdown said, following Prowl as he was led, once again, through the halls.
"Yes. Ratchet and Perceptor are the medics on duty. I will remain as a guard."
"They're about two hours out, at top speed. Four hours if you assume injuries," Breakdown said this as Bluestreak came up. "I have told them everything is ready. I am... sorry, this bonding will not be as gentle as I am sure you dreamed." The last was said directly to Bluestreak, uncomfortably.
"I... never really thought about it at all, and I understand the need to hurry and... I'd rather not talk about it at all, though I'm not sure what else to talk about..." Breakdown smiled faintly as Bluestreak began to ramble, and neither Prowl nor himself tried to stop the grey mech. Breakdown couldn't stop the flinch that came ten minutes later, though.
"Are you well?" Prowl asked, stepping forward, only to have Breakdown wave him off.
"Tell Ratchet and Perceptor that Wildrider is going to need emergency care. If he offlines, we might just need you after all, Prowl," Breakdown explained, smirking ironically and trying to hide his worry.
"You should have let us help, you and I could have gone out there and helped and then we wouldn't have to worry about the time limit for bonding and we would have been able to get here faster as well I bet and we should have helped..."
"Hush, kid. Bluestreak. We couldn't- ah!" Breakdown dropped to a knee, hunching in on himself. "Come on, 'End, do it... you've got him, you've got him, just do it... ah!" He shrieked, pain obvious as he fell over, vents working hard. Bluestreak reacted to the sight of a mech in pain by hurrying to his side, kneeling, hands hovering just short of touching the white and blue armor.
"Breakdown? Breakdown, what's going on! Tell me!" Bluestreak found he was panicking, wings trembling again. The Lamborghini had gone still, only the whir of vents indicating that he was still online for a long moment. Finally, he sat up, weakly.
"He's dead." Breakdown gave a dreamy smile, looking at Bluestreak with very hazy optics. "Motormaster's offline. We're free... Get your afts over here! Come on, Drag'... it's a race, you can do it. Wild, move, you want to see his cute aft, don't you? Why the slag is 'End the only one mov- there we go. That's right... They're coming now. Three hours. Can you have energon for them, Prowl? Drag' will at least have time to drink while I'm with Bluestreak."
"It will be waiting."
"Prowl... I really, really don't think we should leave him cuffed, I mean, really, and it's not going to help anything later anyway and, um, I just really don't think..." Bluestreak trailed away for a little while when Prowl came closer, nodding in agreement before removing the cuffs. Breakdown rubbed at his wrists but didn't do anything else. He was pleased when Bluestreak started to babble again. The grey mech's voice was distracting, and Breakdown needed the distraction.
"They're here," he said, almost half a joor later, looking toward the horizon. Bluestreak and Prowl looked up too, just as the other three Stunticons came into view. Bluestreak shivered, and then followed Breakdown to them, finding a red and black Dead End more or less shoved into his arms by a worried Drag Strip. Dead End was limping heavily, and it was a surprise that Wildrider was still moving, even with Drag Strip and now Breakdown helping him. Prowl lead them to med bay while Bluestreak tried not to think about anything more than helping fellow mechs get to help.
"Get him to a berth! Perceptor will stop his leaking and then help me with..." Ratchet wasn't sure which Stunticon was which, but it was clear enough what he meant. Bluestreak helped Dead End sit down, and then found himself facing Breakdown, who had two cubes of energon. Dead End took one, not seeming to notice as the red Autobot began to clamp the tubing in his leg.
"Drink. You'll need the energy. You need to do us all, and then all at once. I'll drink while you're with my brothers." Breakdown was as quiet and gentle as he knew how to be, guiding Bluestreak to a third berth, a little more away from everyone.
"Just... open and...?" Bluestreak couldn't make himself finish. He was no innocent, but this was something entirely different. He drank the energon without tasting it, watching Breakdown fearfully.
Breakdown nodded, reaching out to rub Bluestreak's shoulder and pleased when the grey mech barely flinched. "I don't think we have the time or energy to do much else." Biting his glossa and looking away from Bluestreak to Dead End and Drag Strip, Breakdown took the first step, unlatching his chest plates and baring himself with a shiver. The medics weren't watching, he noticed. That helped.
"I, you're, probably right, even if it doesn't seem right but yeah..." He couldn't do anything less than bare himself, especially when Bluestreak knew how much Breakdown hated to be watched, and he babbled as he did so, a quiet murmur of words. Breakdown ignored them, moving to merge their sparks and offering his self to Bluestreak, likewise ignoring the frisson of fear and pleasure the contact brought.
Bluestreak moved into the presence Breakdown offered, slow to realize exactly what he was touching. Every memory was here, every hurt, every hope, every crushed dream and painful cruelty. Breakdown was not a particularly nice mech, prone to violence against those who would not leave him alone, and Motormaster had used that, goading him, looking at him, showing him off, and reinforcing the belief that everyone was out to get the Lamborghini, most especially Motormaster himself.
For being so short, Breakdown's life was horrifically brutal, and Bluestreak was keening as he came to the end of it. Offering himself in return was instinctual, he wanted to soothe the pain. His own life had not been pleasant, almost entirely lived during the war, but he did have friends, he had rarely gone hungry or unrepaired...
Breakdown accepted it desperately, and the bond locked into place as they overloaded, much to Bluestreak's surprise. Looking up, he found Drag Strip waiting, handing a cube to Breakdown, who seemed half in a trance.
"Please. He's happy. Please..." Drag Strip was already opening, looking at Bluestreak. The grey mech nodded, reaching up and pulling the yellow car down. They were here for him. And if they were all as hurt as Breakdown...
The hurts were different, Drag Strip only given cold praise, only when he won perfectly. He was praised more when he hurt others in his winning, and ridiculed mercilessly when he failed in the slightest manner. Bluestreak embraced him, stroking and babbling about how strong he was, how strong they all were, and everything would be right, giving himself over to the Stunticon to prove it and moaning as overload finalized the bond once again.
Bluestreak was almost eager when Drag Strip helped him over to Dead End. Perceptor had finished, enough to help with Wildrider, though they would all need more extensive repairs later. "I don't know why you're bothering," Dead End asked harshly, shaking as he opened.
He didn't know either, or didn't want to say. Bluestreak simply bent, half laying on Dead End and half holding him as they merged. The pain of being dismissed, belittled, told that he should just die, that he wouldn't die no matter what happened until Motormaster allowed it... Bluestreak moaned, found himself kissing Dead End mindlessly, light touches of derma to armor. His brothers wanted him. Bluestreak wanted to know him, wanted to want him. Death would come, but it was best to live in the meantime. They overloaded with a strangled scream, and Bluestreak moaned under the weight of a third bond, dizzy and tired.
Once again he was helped, Drag Strip and Breakdown both moving him over to Wildrider. He was barely awake, optics watching Bluestreak as everyone tried to ignore Ratchet and Perceptor working frantically on saving the Ferrari's life. It was fairly insane to bond a mech who was still caught between living or dying... Insane, Bluestreak found as sparks mingled, was a good word to describe anything involving Wildrider. Things made very little sense to him, colors, words, objects, scents, everything seemed to change from one moment to the next. Only his brothers were ever the same, and when they surrounded him, things were stable. Motormaster loved to send him away, on missions, on duty, on punishment... Bluestreak whimpered, and Wildrider shrieked as overload countered the pain for a moment.
One more... Just one more. Ratchet and Perceptor let themselves be moved away, grumbling, as the four mechs surrounded Wildrider. The merging this time was different. Five sparks, yes, but that wasn't what did it... Menasor was not brutalized, was not injured or terrorized. He simply did not understand the world, finding it a profusion of explosions, fighting, pains and pleasures, fear in his own processor. He accepted Bluestreak easily, curiously, placing the new mech into the hole Motormaster had left. For a glorious moment, they were one, a single mech in five bodies, and then they were themselves again, and slowly the gestalt fell into recharge. Prowl helped Ratchet and Perceptor move the mechs, and then they continued with repairs.
Rest is here.