Bunny farm browsing
TITLE: Consequences
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Description of violence and death
Characters Bluestreak
Author: Rose0mary
Summary Though the body may survive the worst that life can through at us, the person is a different story.
Other Notes Looking through old(ish) Bunnies at the Bunny farm can unearth some unusual treasures.
Silverstreak shivered in fear as Praxus was destroyed. He watched as bots flew over the Crystal City, dropping objects. When the falling things landed, mechs dropped dead. There had been no warning, and no mercy was given. One moment the orn had been like any other orn - the adults talked about rumors of rebellion unconcerned. No sane mech would attack Praxus - it lay too far from either side to be of any strategic importance. Besides, with its location, deep in Autobot territory, any Decepticon takeover would inevitably fail, as the enemy tried to hold back the captured city from outside reinforcements, and pockets of resistance.
Silverstreak and his friends, Goldband, BrassChord, CopperKnot, and assorted other youngsters had left the congregation of mechs and femmes when it became evident that they were debating whether to support Prime as tradition stated, or to take a more firm stance against the corruption in the Cybertron Consortium - the new Prime, Opportunistic or something, refused to accept the status quo and others were taking note.
Silverstreak and his band of ragtag survivors were the only Praxians alive in the city when the bombing stopped. Every adult had been in the municipal meeting, and that now stood only as smoking ruins. Nothing in the rubble had withstood the double-dose of Electromagnetic pulse weaponry and blunt-force trauma. Crystal City was home to Neutrals - mechs and femmes who refused to adopt thicker, stronger amour that could withstand laser blasts or plasma bursts, for the simple reason they refused to take part in the fighting.
The belief that the only way to keep this civil war from infecting every mech and femme with madness, the belief that refusing to choose a side, the belief that they could live their lives without incorporating offensive weapons designed to destroy those who disagreed with fundamental convictions, that they could survive and get through this war as observers only, led to Praxus complete destruction. They died as one, unable to protect themselves or their families when the chose came down to ‘me or them’.
The Bombers were only the first wave. That wave eradicated any possible successful defense, opening up holes in the protective rampant walls, allowing the ground-bound bloodthirsty mechs and femmes access inside the locked-down city, and they swarm ed over the younglings and mechlings, slaughtering those who stood in their way. Goldband died defiantly, ineffectively trying to slow Strika and the others so that Pericule behind him might find shelter and be overlooked in the genocide.
BrassChord and CopperKnot fell down together, taken out in one swipe of a scythe. The sparklings behind them were crushed in uncaring servos. One by one, every single inhabitant fell, until only Silverstreak remained alive.
Silverstreak fought valiantly. His surprise attack on Lockdown stunned the mech only. No damage had been inflected, except to his pride. Oilslick and the others who watched the kid attempt to take down Lockdown laughed, pausing their butcher of the helpless unarmed younglings long enough to enjoy the show.
When he heard their laughter, cruel and cold, something snapped, and Silverstreak blacked out.
Joors later, the Autobot warriors, arrived too late to save any Praxian. They emerged onto an abattoir, came across a mole of deactivated frames. Many of the inhabitants were in pieces, making it impossible to determine how many Praxians had been torn apart or smashed to smitherines. Even hardened warriors had to take a breem so that their systems would not violently reject the fuel in their tanks. The medics faired little better, running from practically intact frames, to mostly whole systems, searching in vain for one, just one, mech, femme, youngling or sparkling that had not succumbed to their wounds. More than a few of the youngest had expired from energon loss, but they had also been killed in other ways too.
One orn passed by as the Autobot company searched in vain for any signs of life. A second orn passed as their spirits flagged, but they refused to give up until every inch of Crystal City had been checked.
Ratchet had been the one to find an energon-splattered youngling. The scrapheap of Decepticon remains had been passed by more than once. Weary optics, unable to lift up and look at the devastation surrounding him, had instead focused on the puddle of coolant fluids. A fresh puddle of coolant fluids. Ratchet heaved the deactivated gladiator aside and threw the other mechs aside, not noticing that their cables, wires, and tubing had been savagely torn - the wounds were not unusual sights lately.
A shivery youngling, lay intact underneath the pile.
Ratchet scanned the child even as he gently repaired the external damage and gave the survivor an intravenous injection to help raise the dangerously low levels of coolant, energon, and other important fluids.
Bluestreak, so called because once he started talking, he couldn’t shut up, was the only living Praxian found in the ruins of Crystal City.
... ... ...
Over the vorns, Bluestreak professed a hatred for the Decepticons that destroyed his home. His desire for revenge failed to override his deep-seated despair at being trained as a front-line warrior. Then, Ironhide discovered the mechlings natural sharp shooting skills. A quick transfer request, and Prowl arranged for the Praxian child to be part of the back-up line of defense. Bluestreak learned how to snipe properly, and he took great pride in eliminating the Decpticons attacking his friends.
The Decepticon armada learned to fear the secondary-line of defense. Front-line warriors were easy enough to dispatch and replace, but officers leading the attacks, and mechs with processors, could not be as quickly found and trained. They were the ones Prime’s sniper took out - Bluestreak never missed his target, always hitting the mech where he intended. Few Cybertrons had long-ranged weaponry that could take out the enemy before they even knew the battle was joined. Bluestreak did. His motormouth tendencies; however, meant he could not participate in any ambushes until the fighting began - and then, in his processor, it was a fight to defend and protect his new family, not to take out an enemy that had no opportunity to fight back.
Trial and error had shown that Bluestreak could never fire the first shot. Despite never starting the firefight, he always ended them - or at least, made sure the Autobots could fight, knowing Bluestreak had their backs, and not one Decepticon managed to sneak-up on an unwary Autobot while Bluestreak had the high ground.’
Bluestreak never told anyone of the times he lost track of himself. In battles, when he dropped his rifle scope and grabbed a regular blaster-pistol, he blacked out, not coming back to himself until after the enemy had all died or retreated. Washing energon off his hands when this happened, grew old, but he told himself that it was alright, since his friends remained alive.
... ... ...
More vorns passed, and the Autobots were regaining the ground, retaking the cities that the Decepticons had rightfully won, the cities that had arrayed with the rebels because of the corruption in the Cybertron Consortium. Their world had no neutral cities left. No civilians remained on the surface. Those incapable of defending themselves had either died, or fled ages ago. Call the flyers cowards if you must, but they refused to resign themselves to killing other living beings so that they could continue living.
With a lack of raw recruits to fill the slowly depleting ranks of foot soldiers, Megatron had turned to his high-ranked advisers and demanded they come up with ways to replenish their forces. Shockwave and Jhiaxus accepted the responsibility with gusto, and Autobot prisoners soon found themselves wanting to deactivate instead of remaining captive.
Periodic raids on prisoner camps allowed Prime’s forces to hear more rumors than any amount of interrogation and spy reports. With every new prisoner rescued, moral among the newly captured Autobot prisoners dropped, and the rumors gained credence. Soon, the enemy forces tried deactivating themselves if their side had to retreat, denying the antagonist forces access to their processors, their memories, and their very thoughts.
Ironhide had never been captured. Taking that walking armory prisoner never boded well for anyone, but his apprentices were not always so capable. The one time Ratchet ended up in a concentration camp, the entire group managed to escape, leaving no indication on how dozens of nonmobile mechs had vanished overnight. Prowl? That walking computer tactician never remained captive long - and whatever base he’d been transferred to, failed to survive the assault sent to rescue him.
During one of the common altercations between Autobot and Decpticon forces, Bluestreak was captured. He awoke to the smirking face of Thundercracker. The dark blue seeker smirked. “Do your friends know?”
Bluestreak refused to ask. He turned off his voice box.
Thundercracker kept smiling. “They don’t do they?” He laughed, the same laugh that the unlamented Oilslick and his companions uttered in their final moments.
Bluestreak felt the familiar darkness arise from the dark recesses of his mind. He struggled to keep it at bay, knowing that if he lost consciousness he’d never awaken again.
Thundercracker stepped back and watched as the trapped Autobot seized up. Bluestreak’s facial plates contorted, and changed. When it appeared that the internal fight landed in a standstill, Thurdercracker taunted the prisoner. “Oh, Bluey, can’t you do better? You failed Praxus, what makes you think now is any different?” Soon enough, Bluestreaks countenance changed, and Thundercracker stepped forward pleased. “So, what shall I call you?”
The mech who was no longer Bluestreak in processor snarled, and launched himself forwards. Despite being bound in stasis handcuffs, the mech still managed to wrap his servos around Thundercracker’s arm.
The seeker automatically released a sonic boom. His trine mate winched, but managed to remain upright. Not-Bluestreak let go and tried to cover his audio sensors. “Got a designation? Every bot’s got a designation.”
Bluestreak, when he spoke, was guttural, and spoke a familiar curse. This time, Skywarp joined Thundercracker in laughing. “I don’t know, TC, that sounds impossible.”
“Come closer and let me show you”, snapped the mech-who-wasn’t Bluestreak anymore.
Thundercracker shook his head and waved SKywarp down when the purple-mech opened his mouth to speak. “We didn’t destroy Praxus. The Autobots did.”
“You Lie!” shouted the Autobot prisoner.
Thundercracker sighed. “It’s true. Why would Seekers participate in the elimination of Praxus, our sister-city? It makes no sense.”
“Decepticons destroy everything they touch.”
“If that was true, then why have the cities under Decepticon control thrived? Take a good look at Kaon - when Autobot forces weren’t attacking, the town was a place of peace and prosperity. It was due to the battle brought on by Autobots that destroyed Kaon.”
Slowly, Thundercracker cajoled the mech once called Bluestreak into changing allegiance. The personality that had once been Bluestreak, agreed that the Autobots must pay for their treachery against his hometown. He would continue the illusion, that he remained a loyal supporter of Prime.
Bluestreak was released and allowed to go free
“I hope you know what you’re doing, TC.”
“Trust me, ‘Warp. That mech is now loyal to Megatron.”
Skywarp sighed. “Nobody’s going to believe us.”
“Which is why no one besides you and I are going to know about this.”
Megatron despaired at ever getting one of Prime’s officers. They were too well protected, and managed to raise more havoc as prisoners than they did as enemies. But, he continued sending saboteurs, thieves, and assassins into Autobot camps, in the unlikely event they could take out Prime or his advisors. The loss of one, even if unsuccessful, would send the Autobots in a panic, during which his sleeper agents might be able to abduct the ones closest to the survivors.
Then, an unexpected boom arrived. Jhiaxus reported success in reprogramming Autobot prisoners. Shortly afterwords, Shockwave sent word that he too, managed to turn Loyal Autobots against their closest comrades. Bolstered by this success, Megatron ordered the kidnapping of various bots - Red Alert, while high on the list of ‘would like to have him on my side’, was unapproachable. That one security director managed to stop every line of espionage at every base he was in charge of. Assassins, Saboteurs, Thieves, spies and the like, they all begged for another base to infiltrate when they heard Red Alert was in charge of their target objective. All except one, a glitched mech who, against all odds, managed to place himself in the perfect position to eradicate Red Alert at a future date. That particular sleeper agent would remain inactivated for many many more vorns.
Select sleeper agents struck, capturing bots as they abandoned their roles. Many died as they tried transporting their prisoner, their ex-comrades, to the pick-up point. Some survived, but lost their living shield. A few, managed to leave, with their prisoner. No one had been expecting Bluestreak to turn traitor, and to assist the enemy agents in escaping. The ferocious warrior twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, normally capable of taking out any enemy without hesitation, faltered when Bluestreak, now calling himself Barricade, struck at them, enabling the successful kidnapping of Skids. The chaos their departure caused made for wonderful opportunities for other sleeper agents to be inserted, and for bots with secondary programs installed beneath their personality matrixes to be ‘rescued’. All in all, Megatron gained more than he lost, even though this event was classified as a rout for his forces.
... ... ...
More vorns passed, and the Great War had abandoned the planet, spreading far and wide to the outposts, colonies, and armed forces scattered across the solar system, then the galaxy. The Decepticon called Barricade chased after and slaughtered Autobots as efficiently and quickly as his people had been. It no longer mattered which side had aided and abetted the destruction of his hometown. What mattered is that the enemy pay for the atrocities they committed. He would repay ever death in full, not stopping until the Autobots remained only a distant memory. He would follow and obey Megatron until the day he died.
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Description of violence and death
Characters Bluestreak
Author: Rose0mary
Summary Though the body may survive the worst that life can through at us, the person is a different story.
Other Notes Looking through old(ish) Bunnies at the Bunny farm can unearth some unusual treasures.
Silverstreak shivered in fear as Praxus was destroyed. He watched as bots flew over the Crystal City, dropping objects. When the falling things landed, mechs dropped dead. There had been no warning, and no mercy was given. One moment the orn had been like any other orn - the adults talked about rumors of rebellion unconcerned. No sane mech would attack Praxus - it lay too far from either side to be of any strategic importance. Besides, with its location, deep in Autobot territory, any Decepticon takeover would inevitably fail, as the enemy tried to hold back the captured city from outside reinforcements, and pockets of resistance.
Silverstreak and his friends, Goldband, BrassChord, CopperKnot, and assorted other youngsters had left the congregation of mechs and femmes when it became evident that they were debating whether to support Prime as tradition stated, or to take a more firm stance against the corruption in the Cybertron Consortium - the new Prime, Opportunistic or something, refused to accept the status quo and others were taking note.
Silverstreak and his band of ragtag survivors were the only Praxians alive in the city when the bombing stopped. Every adult had been in the municipal meeting, and that now stood only as smoking ruins. Nothing in the rubble had withstood the double-dose of Electromagnetic pulse weaponry and blunt-force trauma. Crystal City was home to Neutrals - mechs and femmes who refused to adopt thicker, stronger amour that could withstand laser blasts or plasma bursts, for the simple reason they refused to take part in the fighting.
The belief that the only way to keep this civil war from infecting every mech and femme with madness, the belief that refusing to choose a side, the belief that they could live their lives without incorporating offensive weapons designed to destroy those who disagreed with fundamental convictions, that they could survive and get through this war as observers only, led to Praxus complete destruction. They died as one, unable to protect themselves or their families when the chose came down to ‘me or them’.
The Bombers were only the first wave. That wave eradicated any possible successful defense, opening up holes in the protective rampant walls, allowing the ground-bound bloodthirsty mechs and femmes access inside the locked-down city, and they swarm ed over the younglings and mechlings, slaughtering those who stood in their way. Goldband died defiantly, ineffectively trying to slow Strika and the others so that Pericule behind him might find shelter and be overlooked in the genocide.
BrassChord and CopperKnot fell down together, taken out in one swipe of a scythe. The sparklings behind them were crushed in uncaring servos. One by one, every single inhabitant fell, until only Silverstreak remained alive.
Silverstreak fought valiantly. His surprise attack on Lockdown stunned the mech only. No damage had been inflected, except to his pride. Oilslick and the others who watched the kid attempt to take down Lockdown laughed, pausing their butcher of the helpless unarmed younglings long enough to enjoy the show.
When he heard their laughter, cruel and cold, something snapped, and Silverstreak blacked out.
Joors later, the Autobot warriors, arrived too late to save any Praxian. They emerged onto an abattoir, came across a mole of deactivated frames. Many of the inhabitants were in pieces, making it impossible to determine how many Praxians had been torn apart or smashed to smitherines. Even hardened warriors had to take a breem so that their systems would not violently reject the fuel in their tanks. The medics faired little better, running from practically intact frames, to mostly whole systems, searching in vain for one, just one, mech, femme, youngling or sparkling that had not succumbed to their wounds. More than a few of the youngest had expired from energon loss, but they had also been killed in other ways too.
One orn passed by as the Autobot company searched in vain for any signs of life. A second orn passed as their spirits flagged, but they refused to give up until every inch of Crystal City had been checked.
Ratchet had been the one to find an energon-splattered youngling. The scrapheap of Decepticon remains had been passed by more than once. Weary optics, unable to lift up and look at the devastation surrounding him, had instead focused on the puddle of coolant fluids. A fresh puddle of coolant fluids. Ratchet heaved the deactivated gladiator aside and threw the other mechs aside, not noticing that their cables, wires, and tubing had been savagely torn - the wounds were not unusual sights lately.
A shivery youngling, lay intact underneath the pile.
Ratchet scanned the child even as he gently repaired the external damage and gave the survivor an intravenous injection to help raise the dangerously low levels of coolant, energon, and other important fluids.
Bluestreak, so called because once he started talking, he couldn’t shut up, was the only living Praxian found in the ruins of Crystal City.
... ... ...
Over the vorns, Bluestreak professed a hatred for the Decepticons that destroyed his home. His desire for revenge failed to override his deep-seated despair at being trained as a front-line warrior. Then, Ironhide discovered the mechlings natural sharp shooting skills. A quick transfer request, and Prowl arranged for the Praxian child to be part of the back-up line of defense. Bluestreak learned how to snipe properly, and he took great pride in eliminating the Decpticons attacking his friends.
The Decepticon armada learned to fear the secondary-line of defense. Front-line warriors were easy enough to dispatch and replace, but officers leading the attacks, and mechs with processors, could not be as quickly found and trained. They were the ones Prime’s sniper took out - Bluestreak never missed his target, always hitting the mech where he intended. Few Cybertrons had long-ranged weaponry that could take out the enemy before they even knew the battle was joined. Bluestreak did. His motormouth tendencies; however, meant he could not participate in any ambushes until the fighting began - and then, in his processor, it was a fight to defend and protect his new family, not to take out an enemy that had no opportunity to fight back.
Trial and error had shown that Bluestreak could never fire the first shot. Despite never starting the firefight, he always ended them - or at least, made sure the Autobots could fight, knowing Bluestreak had their backs, and not one Decepticon managed to sneak-up on an unwary Autobot while Bluestreak had the high ground.’
Bluestreak never told anyone of the times he lost track of himself. In battles, when he dropped his rifle scope and grabbed a regular blaster-pistol, he blacked out, not coming back to himself until after the enemy had all died or retreated. Washing energon off his hands when this happened, grew old, but he told himself that it was alright, since his friends remained alive.
... ... ...
More vorns passed, and the Autobots were regaining the ground, retaking the cities that the Decepticons had rightfully won, the cities that had arrayed with the rebels because of the corruption in the Cybertron Consortium. Their world had no neutral cities left. No civilians remained on the surface. Those incapable of defending themselves had either died, or fled ages ago. Call the flyers cowards if you must, but they refused to resign themselves to killing other living beings so that they could continue living.
With a lack of raw recruits to fill the slowly depleting ranks of foot soldiers, Megatron had turned to his high-ranked advisers and demanded they come up with ways to replenish their forces. Shockwave and Jhiaxus accepted the responsibility with gusto, and Autobot prisoners soon found themselves wanting to deactivate instead of remaining captive.
Periodic raids on prisoner camps allowed Prime’s forces to hear more rumors than any amount of interrogation and spy reports. With every new prisoner rescued, moral among the newly captured Autobot prisoners dropped, and the rumors gained credence. Soon, the enemy forces tried deactivating themselves if their side had to retreat, denying the antagonist forces access to their processors, their memories, and their very thoughts.
Ironhide had never been captured. Taking that walking armory prisoner never boded well for anyone, but his apprentices were not always so capable. The one time Ratchet ended up in a concentration camp, the entire group managed to escape, leaving no indication on how dozens of nonmobile mechs had vanished overnight. Prowl? That walking computer tactician never remained captive long - and whatever base he’d been transferred to, failed to survive the assault sent to rescue him.
During one of the common altercations between Autobot and Decpticon forces, Bluestreak was captured. He awoke to the smirking face of Thundercracker. The dark blue seeker smirked. “Do your friends know?”
Bluestreak refused to ask. He turned off his voice box.
Thundercracker kept smiling. “They don’t do they?” He laughed, the same laugh that the unlamented Oilslick and his companions uttered in their final moments.
Bluestreak felt the familiar darkness arise from the dark recesses of his mind. He struggled to keep it at bay, knowing that if he lost consciousness he’d never awaken again.
Thundercracker stepped back and watched as the trapped Autobot seized up. Bluestreak’s facial plates contorted, and changed. When it appeared that the internal fight landed in a standstill, Thurdercracker taunted the prisoner. “Oh, Bluey, can’t you do better? You failed Praxus, what makes you think now is any different?” Soon enough, Bluestreaks countenance changed, and Thundercracker stepped forward pleased. “So, what shall I call you?”
The mech who was no longer Bluestreak in processor snarled, and launched himself forwards. Despite being bound in stasis handcuffs, the mech still managed to wrap his servos around Thundercracker’s arm.
The seeker automatically released a sonic boom. His trine mate winched, but managed to remain upright. Not-Bluestreak let go and tried to cover his audio sensors. “Got a designation? Every bot’s got a designation.”
Bluestreak, when he spoke, was guttural, and spoke a familiar curse. This time, Skywarp joined Thundercracker in laughing. “I don’t know, TC, that sounds impossible.”
“Come closer and let me show you”, snapped the mech-who-wasn’t Bluestreak anymore.
Thundercracker shook his head and waved SKywarp down when the purple-mech opened his mouth to speak. “We didn’t destroy Praxus. The Autobots did.”
“You Lie!” shouted the Autobot prisoner.
Thundercracker sighed. “It’s true. Why would Seekers participate in the elimination of Praxus, our sister-city? It makes no sense.”
“Decepticons destroy everything they touch.”
“If that was true, then why have the cities under Decepticon control thrived? Take a good look at Kaon - when Autobot forces weren’t attacking, the town was a place of peace and prosperity. It was due to the battle brought on by Autobots that destroyed Kaon.”
Slowly, Thundercracker cajoled the mech once called Bluestreak into changing allegiance. The personality that had once been Bluestreak, agreed that the Autobots must pay for their treachery against his hometown. He would continue the illusion, that he remained a loyal supporter of Prime.
Bluestreak was released and allowed to go free
“I hope you know what you’re doing, TC.”
“Trust me, ‘Warp. That mech is now loyal to Megatron.”
Skywarp sighed. “Nobody’s going to believe us.”
“Which is why no one besides you and I are going to know about this.”
Megatron despaired at ever getting one of Prime’s officers. They were too well protected, and managed to raise more havoc as prisoners than they did as enemies. But, he continued sending saboteurs, thieves, and assassins into Autobot camps, in the unlikely event they could take out Prime or his advisors. The loss of one, even if unsuccessful, would send the Autobots in a panic, during which his sleeper agents might be able to abduct the ones closest to the survivors.
Then, an unexpected boom arrived. Jhiaxus reported success in reprogramming Autobot prisoners. Shortly afterwords, Shockwave sent word that he too, managed to turn Loyal Autobots against their closest comrades. Bolstered by this success, Megatron ordered the kidnapping of various bots - Red Alert, while high on the list of ‘would like to have him on my side’, was unapproachable. That one security director managed to stop every line of espionage at every base he was in charge of. Assassins, Saboteurs, Thieves, spies and the like, they all begged for another base to infiltrate when they heard Red Alert was in charge of their target objective. All except one, a glitched mech who, against all odds, managed to place himself in the perfect position to eradicate Red Alert at a future date. That particular sleeper agent would remain inactivated for many many more vorns.
Select sleeper agents struck, capturing bots as they abandoned their roles. Many died as they tried transporting their prisoner, their ex-comrades, to the pick-up point. Some survived, but lost their living shield. A few, managed to leave, with their prisoner. No one had been expecting Bluestreak to turn traitor, and to assist the enemy agents in escaping. The ferocious warrior twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, normally capable of taking out any enemy without hesitation, faltered when Bluestreak, now calling himself Barricade, struck at them, enabling the successful kidnapping of Skids. The chaos their departure caused made for wonderful opportunities for other sleeper agents to be inserted, and for bots with secondary programs installed beneath their personality matrixes to be ‘rescued’. All in all, Megatron gained more than he lost, even though this event was classified as a rout for his forces.
... ... ...
More vorns passed, and the Great War had abandoned the planet, spreading far and wide to the outposts, colonies, and armed forces scattered across the solar system, then the galaxy. The Decepticon called Barricade chased after and slaughtered Autobots as efficiently and quickly as his people had been. It no longer mattered which side had aided and abetted the destruction of his hometown. What mattered is that the enemy pay for the atrocities they committed. He would repay ever death in full, not stopping until the Autobots remained only a distant memory. He would follow and obey Megatron until the day he died.