[TF] Past Impending 05
Jul. 5th, 2018 06:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Past Impending
Universe: All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Rodimus, Starscream, Drift/Deadlock, Sunstreaker, Turmoil, Original Character(s)
Pairings: past Rodimus/Drift, Starscream/Sunstreaker, past Rodimus/Turmoil
Rated: T
Warnings: implied bad things including physical and sexual abuse
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.
Part Five
Every time Turmoil’s laugh echoed through the air, Rodimus flinched, and Nightshade noticed. His optics darkened with concern. He kept shoving treats at them, as though that would help.
“Is he alright?” Nightshade asked, his voice barely audible over the noise of the sales floor.
Starscream stroked his thumb over Rodimus’ bottom lip. “He’ll be fine. We appreciate your concern.” It was a novel thing, a client’s concern for them. It was one of the reasons he adored Nightshade so much.
“Perhaps if we left…?” Nightshade suggested.
Another bark of laughter, and Rodimus’ field went a sickly shade. He ignored the treat Starscream offered, his fingers curling tighter into Starscream’s seams. He was in no condition to service anyone. But with Turmoil here, there was no chance in the Pit Streamline would let Rodimus leave the sales floor with anyone but a patron.
“That’s probably for the best,” Starscream said. He urged Rodimus out of his lap, and with evident reluctance, Rodimus stood. “We could move to a private lounge if you aren’t interested in a show.”
“Given the circumstances, not until either of you are more comfortable.” Nightshade unfolded himself from the couch, concern casting a pall over his field. “I’d much prefer a more… enthused show and if we need privacy for you to relax, I’m all for it.”
Starscream smiled genuinely, and stood, slinging an arm around Rodimus’ waist and tugging the speedster against him. “And that’s why you’re our favorite. Isn’t that right, Roddy?”
Rodimus managed a smile, a pale shade of his usual exuberance. “One of at least,” he teased and snuggled into Starscream’s side, his fingers flirting over Starscream’s abdomen. “We’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Nightshade smiled in return. He reached out, gently tweaking Rodimus’ chin. “I already know you will.” He turned to flag down a server in order to reserve a room.
“It’s going to be fine,” Starscream murmured as he felt Rodimus’ tension.
Rodimus snorted. “Easy for you to say.”
“You know, Streamline, I still haven’t received any decent entertainment,” Turmoil said behind them, too loud for it to be anything but a comment their direction.
Rodimus’ fingers shook as they curled in Starscream’s seams. He went so rigid, he could have been carved from Praxian crystal.
“You’ll find something more than decent here,” Streamline replied, his tone a touch annoyed. “If you’re wanting something specific, just say so.”
Turmoil laughed and the sound clawed up Starscream’s spinal strut like a whipping he hadn’t asked for. “You should know what I like by now. Flashy. Small. Meek. Red’s my favorite color, you know.”
Starscream glared over his shoulder. Turmoil stared unerringly in their direction, the sharp red gleam of his visor like a smelting pot. He’d been fondling Aeroline for the past ten minutes, but she was gone now.
Too pink for his tastes apparently.
“Something I’ve sampled before,” Turmoil continued as he tilted his head, his gaze a challenge at Starscream. “Something that screams quite pretty when you get him on his knees.”
Starscream’s lip curled. Rodimus made a sound, like a thin whine, but it was quickly swallowed.
“Sounds like you already have someone specific in mind,” Streamline said. He shifted and gave Starscream a pointed look. “Come here, Hot Rod.”
Rodimus hesitated. His fingers were like hooks on Starscream’s armor. But even afraid, he knew better than to disobey Streamline.
As much as Starscream wanted to haul him back close, he couldn’t. Nightshade hadn’t returned with their reservation. Technically, Rodimus was still unclaimed.
Rodimus unclenched his fingers and stepped out of Starscream’s reach. His armor slicked tight to his protoform, he had to be overheating, and his smile was strained.
“Yeah, boss? You needed me?” False service glittered in his field.
“Need is a strong word,” Turmoil said, intercepting Rodimus’ attention. His visor raked up and down Rodimus’ frame as though interfacing him with a single look. “We have some unfinished business.” He planted a foot against the low table in front of him and patted his lap. “Come here.”
Rodimus stiffened. He went pale all over again.
Starscream stepped in front of him. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. But he’s spoken for already,” he said, in a tone carefully cultivated for their patrons.
Streamline growled a warning. “Starscream.”
Turmoil tilted his head. “So I’ve heard. But it’s first come, first served, isn’t it? That’s what the yellow one told me.” He jerked his thumb in Sunstreaker’s direction before pointing at Rodimus. “And that one’s been mine since before his cute aft got sent here. So technically, I was here first. And as it turns out, I’ve been missing my favorite berthwarmer.”
“I apologize, sir,” Starscream replied through gritted teeth, pulling Rodimus further behind him, “but it doesn’t quite work that way here at Blue Sun. You’ll have to choose another. We have many beautiful and talented escorts who’d be happy to accompany you this evening.”
Rodimus pressed against his back. “Starscream, don’t.” It was a quiet plea, but Starscream felt him tremble. He didn’t want to go anywhere with Turmoil. And Starscream would stand here and make sure that didn’t happen.
Turmoil might just kill Rodimus and hang the debt.
“Hush,” Starscream hissed.
“Yes, Rodimus. Hush. Though you never were very good at that.” Turmoil drummed his fingers on his thigh before he pushed to his feet. “Streamline, are all your employees as insubordinate as this one? Perhaps your discipline is lacking?”
“Starscream is a special case,” Streamline said in a tight tone. Anger flashed behind his optics, but at least he didn’t bow and scrape to Turmoil like a lackey. “He’s also wrong. Hot Rod is not currently engaged by any patron in the establishment. You’re free to take his commission.”
Damn it. Of course Streamline would check the registers and see that Nightshade had, in fact, not hired Rodimus. He hadn’t hired either of them yet. He was still trying to flag down a server, though now his attention was on the interplay behind him.
“Or you could take mine,” Starscream suggested, and added a becoming tone to his voice. “I’m better than Hot Rod in every way. I’ll even throw in a discount.”
Turmoil laughed. “You two fragging or something? Because that’s an awful lot of effort to protect something that doesn’t matter.” He moved closer to them, within reach. “I don’t want you, Seeker. So give me my toy before you get yourself hurt over it.”
‘Star!’ Sunstreaker pinged him, the urgency and concern in his comm enough to make Starscream’s spark throb.
He glanced at his roommate. Sunstreaker’s face was drawn and pale, like before he had an episode, or when he needed a spark charge to keep himself going.
He’d understand. Or at least, Starscream hoped he did.
Starscream squared his shoulders and narrowed his optics. “I get hurt for creds all the time. What makes you think protecting a friend from a mindless brute like you is any less worth it to me?” He tossed his head, suddenly feeling every inch the lord of the skies Seekers were supposed to be. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Turmoil’s visor flashed. “You should be.”
He moved, faster than Starscream thought a mech his size should be capable, hand seizing Starscream’s nearest wing. His grip was like duryllium, and there was an abrupt, sharp pain rippling through Starscream’s sensory net.
He buried a scream behind a hiss and stumbled when Turmoil jerked him closer, his other hand snatching Starscream’s chin.
“If you were less mouthy, you’d almost be cute,” Turmoil said as he turned Starscream’s jaw this way and that. “Though I have a feeling it would be fun to break you.”
Starscream’s processor spun. Error messages lit up his HUD like fireworks as metal creaked and Turmoil’s grip tightened. Something snapped, something important, and a thin whine eeked in his intake.
His hands curled into fists. His vents turned ragged. He couldn’t… he wasn’t allowed to…
“Turmoil, if you break my merchandise, you have to buy it,” Streamline said in a bland tone.
He was such a fragging coward when it came to his business contacts. Knowing that said businesses were worth more than the loss of a single Seeker buymech. Starscream was replaceable, like so many of his kin.
Frag him. Frag all of them. Starscream was worth it, and Rodimus was, too.
“He offered to be broken. I’m only giving him what he wants,” Turmoil said, his grip on Starscream’s chin painfully tight. “Isn’t that right, Seeker? I can take you to a room, and tear you apart, and you’ll let me. So long as I leave the whore behind you out of it?”
Starscream’s ventilations gasped. His wing burned. “Yes, sir,” he gritted out as Sunstreaker’s pings blasted his comm. “That’s what I said.”
Silence fell like a weight through the main room. Starscream felt it, sure as he felt the optics on them, customers and escorts alike watching the events. Sure as he felt Sunstreaker getting closer, grumbling, pushing through the curious throng.
Turmoil chuckled darkly, and something went pop in Starscream’s wing, something that sent a white-hot shock of agony through his frame.
“Stop it!”
Rodimus’ voice cut through the haze.
“Let him go!”
Fire blazed in his wing. Starscream stumbled backward as someone yanked on him, tearing him from Turmoil’s grip. He listed, knees wobbling, and a blur of orange and red planted itself in front of him.
“I’m here. Just take me already,” Rodimus snarled, his hands fisting at his sides, his spoiler trembling.
Turmoil’s visor brightened with delight. “You have a spinal strut after all, pet.” His fingers closed around Rodimus’ wrist, dragging him close, highlighting the obscene size difference between them.
Starscream tried to speak, his vocalizer crackling. He tried to grab Rodimus and missed, and then there were hands on him, holding him upright.
“It’s all right, Starscream.”
He knew this voice, murmuring in his audial, though he’d never heard it with this tone.
“I have this under control,” Nightshade said.
Turmoil slid a possessive hand around the back of Rodimus’ head, and Rodimus’ field sank into a sickly poisoned sludge.
“Hold on a moment, please.”
Starscream did not know this voice. But it cut through the tension like a vibroblade through a mech’s undercarriage.
In his periphery, the Enforcer rose to his feet, and Atomizer beside him, though there was none of the seductive grace in Atomizer’s stance. The Enforcer had a hand pressed to his comm, and a thoughtful look on his face. He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn’t possibly see him.
“You’re certain?” the Enforcer asked as he stared at Turmoil, his lips sliding from a thin press to a small smirk. Atomizer draped against his side, but there was challenge in his visor. “I will not be satisfied with anything less than one-hundred percent.” He paused as Atomizer stroked over the flat of his belly, flirtatious and unconcerned. “Very well. Thank you.”
“Prowl, what is the meaning of this?” Turmoil demanded with a growl that made Starscream’s plating crawl. His hold on Rodimus loosened, and Rodimus tore himself free, scrambling backward, into Starscream’s reach.
“You know, you cause trouble wherever you go,” Prowl said with a soft sigh. His thigh panel popped open, and he withdrew a blaster. “But I’m grateful for that, as it gives me the opportunity to arrest you. And I’ve been wanting to do that for the better part of a century.”
You could have heard energon splatter on the floor.
Starscream froze. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He swayed, and Nightshade behind him was suddenly as strong and sturdy as a rock.
“The frag?” Turmoil reared back, his engine roaring. “This some kind of joke?”
“No, it’s not.” The harsh whine of a blaster charging ratcheted up the tension as Turmoil’s tall and gangly guard pointed a gun at his master’s head. “Sorry, boss. But as it turns out, Prowl pays better. Plus, he’s a hell of a lot cuter.”
“Tumbler, be quiet.”
Tumbler’s visor flashed with humor. “Sure thing, boss.” The end of his blaster tapped the side of Turmoil’s head. “And by boss, I meant Prowl. Not you.”
Turmoil growled. His field throbbed through the room, heavy with menace, and Starscream swayed a bit more.
He caught Rodimus’ shoulder with one hand, pulling Rodimus back against him, and Rodimus came willingly. He still shook in earnest.
“You should drop it, Tumbler,” said Turmoil’s other guard. He drew his own blaster and aimed it at Tumbler’s head. “Me and the boss, we’re both getting out of here, understand me?”
“You might want to rethink that, pal.”
Starscream stiffened. He knew that voice, too. He followed it right to a lounge along the wall, where Bluestreak had a sniper rifle casually leveled at Turmoil’s other guard. Jazz draped himself across the back of the lounge, and Bluestreak by proxy. He looked as pleased as a cybercat who caught the metallocanary.
“My sparkmate here has the best aim in the universe,” Jazz continued, still with that lazy, unbothered drawl. “Can pick a rivet off a scout ship from half a planet away, he can.”
Bluestreak rolled his optics. “Don’t exaggerate, pet.” His rifle didn’t waver.
“Yes, dear.” Jazz’s grin broadened. One hand toyed with the nearest of Bluestreak’s sensory panels, the other rested possessively over Bluestreak’s ample chassis. “So Turmoil, as you see, you’re out of options. And completely surrounded.”
Turmoil snarled, his field lancing through the room. “This was you, wasn’t it?” he growled, massive finger pointing at Rodimus, who recoiled back against Starscream. “You think you can tattle on me and it’ll save you? You think these Enforcers care about some shareware?
“Actually.” Drift stepped out of the crowd, which had thinned remarkably, many of the escorts slowly but surely vanishing to the exits. “It was me.”
Turmoil stared at him. “Who the frag are--” He cut off as recognition dawned, and then his visor flashed with rage. “Deadlock,” he snarled, and the sound of it sent a shiver of almost-fear down Starscream’s spine.
There was murder most foul in Turmoil’s visor and in his field.
His foot clomped on the floor as he took a step toward Drift, hands clenching in and out of fists at his side, as though nothing else existed in the room but his rage at what Deadlock had done.
“When I’m through with this nonsense, you’ll wish your sparker had never left you to die in that gutter,” Turmoil hissed.
“Through?” Prowl echoed and waved Atomizer off his side with a flick of his fingers. “Turmoil, I don’t think you comprehend what is happening here. Where you’re going, you’ll never see the light of Luna-One again.”
Turmoil swung back toward the Enforcer, as though Tumbler’s blaster against his head was nothing to be concerned about. “If you want that precious artifact you came here to buy, you’d better be prepared to make a deal.”
Prowl didn’t look the least bit ruffled. He arched an orbital ridge, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he wanted to smile.
As if on cue, the main doors opened. Everyone stiffened. Blasters whined. A large blue mech Starscream had never seen before strolled inside, a cybercat at his heels, and an avian cassette on his shoulder, opposite some kind of mounted blaster. Both visor and mouthguard his his face from view. He had a box of some kind in one of his hands.
“Target acquired,” he said, in a monotone that would have envied Compute.
Prowl’s sensory panels twitched. “Thank you, Soundwave. You are always so punctual with these things.”
Soundwave tipped his head. “Compliment appreciated.” The bird on his shoulder chirped.
Prowl accepted the box and gave it a telling wiggle. Whatever was inside clunked as it hit the edges of the box. “Did you mean this artifact?”
Turmoil’s field went incandescent with rage. “How--”
“Do not presume to think I am dumber than you.” Prowl’s optics went ice blue and cold. “Unlike you, I do not make mistakes.” He tucked the artifact behind his back and moved closer to Turmoil, the mob boss towering over him, though Prowl looked not the least bit bothered by this. “I will enjoy watching them strip your spark from you.”
Turmoil’s vents heaved. “When I am free, I will rend your head from your shoulders. And then I’ll come for the rest.”
“You may try.” Prowl turned away with a sharp clip. “Arrest him and take him to the transport.”
Turmoil roared.
Chaos reigned.
Mechs rushed forward: Drift and Spinner, Skids from who the frag knew where, Atomizer, the one named Tumbler. They threw themselves at Turmoil.
Starscream stumbled as both he and Rodimus were abruptly pulled backward, and Nightshade surged in front of them. Taller he might be, but there was less mass to Nightshade. Someone like him couldn’t possibly stand up to Turmoil.
“Stay behind me,” Nightshade said in a tone that demanded obedience. If he was at all concerned by the threat Turmoil presented, he didn’t show it.
Starscream’s processor spun. His wing ached. He felt dizzy and swayed, and only Rodimus grabbing his elbow kept him from staggering.
What in Primus’ name was going on?
Past Nightshade, a struggle raged and roared. Someone shot Turmoil with what looked like blue-white fire.
It sizzled and crackled. Turmoil dropped to a knee, mechs draping from his massive frame like extra bits of kibble.
Turmoil’s remaining loyal guard tried to flee. Soundwave’s cassettes – the cat and the bird – converged on him, bringing him down with little effort.
Turmoil raged. Cuffs slapped around his wrist. Starscream couldn’t tell who’d used them on the madness.
Turmoil struggled, but the cuffs dampened his energy, made him weak and pliable. Unfortunately, it didn’t curb his glossa, for he yelled vitriol as they pulled him away. He cursed Prowl. He threatened Streamline. He saved the tastiest tidbits for Drift and Rodimus, words that didn’t bear repeating.
Rodimus threw himself into Starscream’s arms, clinging tight, as if he thought he could mold their frames together.
“I thought he was going to hurt you,” Rodimus said, muffled against Starscream’s cockpit. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Starscream leaned heavily on Rodimus, his wing aching more and more with each passing moment. There was a bent strut, he was sure of it.
Rodimus’ fingers dug into his seams. “Yes, it is. If he’d killed you...”
“But he did not, and you are safe.” Starscream tilted his head against Rodimus’, sliding his arms around the younger mech’s frame. “You’re free of him now.”
“I’m never going to be free,” Rodimus murmured in a bleak tone. “Never.”
Starscream cycled a ventilation. He wasn’t one to give false hope. But he wasn’t one to wallow in despair either. There was always the chance Turmoil managed to evade justice. He’d done it before, though under different circumstances.
Arms enfolded Starscream from behind, though careful of his wing. Starscream caught a whiff of expensive polish before he could relax.
“You fool,” Sunstreaker whispered, fierce and angry and relieved into Starscream’s audial. “You utter fool.”
For once, Starscream allowed the chastisement. His roommate was not wrong. Turmoil could have killed him.
“It’s fine,” Starscream replied. “It’s over now.”
“You need to see Wrench,” Sunstreaker said, arms tight around Starscream’s abdomen, his field a nauseating swirl of worry and anger.
“Later.” Starscream cycled several ventilations, but there was a rattle in his vents, in his knees.
He’d never been more aware of his mortality until now.
Investigative forces trooped into Blue Sun. Turmoil vanished out the door, probably to be stuffed into a transport and hopefully, he’d be discarded into a deep, dark pit where no one would ever see him again.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Sunstreaker murmured.
“I’m so sorry,” Rodimus whispered.
A deep, dark pit wasn’t good enough, Starscream decided.
There wasn’t enough justice in the world.
****
Universe: All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Rodimus, Starscream, Drift/Deadlock, Sunstreaker, Turmoil, Original Character(s)
Pairings: past Rodimus/Drift, Starscream/Sunstreaker, past Rodimus/Turmoil
Rated: T
Warnings: implied bad things including physical and sexual abuse
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.
Every time Turmoil’s laugh echoed through the air, Rodimus flinched, and Nightshade noticed. His optics darkened with concern. He kept shoving treats at them, as though that would help.
“Is he alright?” Nightshade asked, his voice barely audible over the noise of the sales floor.
Starscream stroked his thumb over Rodimus’ bottom lip. “He’ll be fine. We appreciate your concern.” It was a novel thing, a client’s concern for them. It was one of the reasons he adored Nightshade so much.
“Perhaps if we left…?” Nightshade suggested.
Another bark of laughter, and Rodimus’ field went a sickly shade. He ignored the treat Starscream offered, his fingers curling tighter into Starscream’s seams. He was in no condition to service anyone. But with Turmoil here, there was no chance in the Pit Streamline would let Rodimus leave the sales floor with anyone but a patron.
“That’s probably for the best,” Starscream said. He urged Rodimus out of his lap, and with evident reluctance, Rodimus stood. “We could move to a private lounge if you aren’t interested in a show.”
“Given the circumstances, not until either of you are more comfortable.” Nightshade unfolded himself from the couch, concern casting a pall over his field. “I’d much prefer a more… enthused show and if we need privacy for you to relax, I’m all for it.”
Starscream smiled genuinely, and stood, slinging an arm around Rodimus’ waist and tugging the speedster against him. “And that’s why you’re our favorite. Isn’t that right, Roddy?”
Rodimus managed a smile, a pale shade of his usual exuberance. “One of at least,” he teased and snuggled into Starscream’s side, his fingers flirting over Starscream’s abdomen. “We’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Nightshade smiled in return. He reached out, gently tweaking Rodimus’ chin. “I already know you will.” He turned to flag down a server in order to reserve a room.
“It’s going to be fine,” Starscream murmured as he felt Rodimus’ tension.
Rodimus snorted. “Easy for you to say.”
“You know, Streamline, I still haven’t received any decent entertainment,” Turmoil said behind them, too loud for it to be anything but a comment their direction.
Rodimus’ fingers shook as they curled in Starscream’s seams. He went so rigid, he could have been carved from Praxian crystal.
“You’ll find something more than decent here,” Streamline replied, his tone a touch annoyed. “If you’re wanting something specific, just say so.”
Turmoil laughed and the sound clawed up Starscream’s spinal strut like a whipping he hadn’t asked for. “You should know what I like by now. Flashy. Small. Meek. Red’s my favorite color, you know.”
Starscream glared over his shoulder. Turmoil stared unerringly in their direction, the sharp red gleam of his visor like a smelting pot. He’d been fondling Aeroline for the past ten minutes, but she was gone now.
Too pink for his tastes apparently.
“Something I’ve sampled before,” Turmoil continued as he tilted his head, his gaze a challenge at Starscream. “Something that screams quite pretty when you get him on his knees.”
Starscream’s lip curled. Rodimus made a sound, like a thin whine, but it was quickly swallowed.
“Sounds like you already have someone specific in mind,” Streamline said. He shifted and gave Starscream a pointed look. “Come here, Hot Rod.”
Rodimus hesitated. His fingers were like hooks on Starscream’s armor. But even afraid, he knew better than to disobey Streamline.
As much as Starscream wanted to haul him back close, he couldn’t. Nightshade hadn’t returned with their reservation. Technically, Rodimus was still unclaimed.
Rodimus unclenched his fingers and stepped out of Starscream’s reach. His armor slicked tight to his protoform, he had to be overheating, and his smile was strained.
“Yeah, boss? You needed me?” False service glittered in his field.
“Need is a strong word,” Turmoil said, intercepting Rodimus’ attention. His visor raked up and down Rodimus’ frame as though interfacing him with a single look. “We have some unfinished business.” He planted a foot against the low table in front of him and patted his lap. “Come here.”
Rodimus stiffened. He went pale all over again.
Starscream stepped in front of him. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. But he’s spoken for already,” he said, in a tone carefully cultivated for their patrons.
Streamline growled a warning. “Starscream.”
Turmoil tilted his head. “So I’ve heard. But it’s first come, first served, isn’t it? That’s what the yellow one told me.” He jerked his thumb in Sunstreaker’s direction before pointing at Rodimus. “And that one’s been mine since before his cute aft got sent here. So technically, I was here first. And as it turns out, I’ve been missing my favorite berthwarmer.”
“I apologize, sir,” Starscream replied through gritted teeth, pulling Rodimus further behind him, “but it doesn’t quite work that way here at Blue Sun. You’ll have to choose another. We have many beautiful and talented escorts who’d be happy to accompany you this evening.”
Rodimus pressed against his back. “Starscream, don’t.” It was a quiet plea, but Starscream felt him tremble. He didn’t want to go anywhere with Turmoil. And Starscream would stand here and make sure that didn’t happen.
Turmoil might just kill Rodimus and hang the debt.
“Hush,” Starscream hissed.
“Yes, Rodimus. Hush. Though you never were very good at that.” Turmoil drummed his fingers on his thigh before he pushed to his feet. “Streamline, are all your employees as insubordinate as this one? Perhaps your discipline is lacking?”
“Starscream is a special case,” Streamline said in a tight tone. Anger flashed behind his optics, but at least he didn’t bow and scrape to Turmoil like a lackey. “He’s also wrong. Hot Rod is not currently engaged by any patron in the establishment. You’re free to take his commission.”
Damn it. Of course Streamline would check the registers and see that Nightshade had, in fact, not hired Rodimus. He hadn’t hired either of them yet. He was still trying to flag down a server, though now his attention was on the interplay behind him.
“Or you could take mine,” Starscream suggested, and added a becoming tone to his voice. “I’m better than Hot Rod in every way. I’ll even throw in a discount.”
Turmoil laughed. “You two fragging or something? Because that’s an awful lot of effort to protect something that doesn’t matter.” He moved closer to them, within reach. “I don’t want you, Seeker. So give me my toy before you get yourself hurt over it.”
‘Star!’ Sunstreaker pinged him, the urgency and concern in his comm enough to make Starscream’s spark throb.
He glanced at his roommate. Sunstreaker’s face was drawn and pale, like before he had an episode, or when he needed a spark charge to keep himself going.
He’d understand. Or at least, Starscream hoped he did.
Starscream squared his shoulders and narrowed his optics. “I get hurt for creds all the time. What makes you think protecting a friend from a mindless brute like you is any less worth it to me?” He tossed his head, suddenly feeling every inch the lord of the skies Seekers were supposed to be. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Turmoil’s visor flashed. “You should be.”
He moved, faster than Starscream thought a mech his size should be capable, hand seizing Starscream’s nearest wing. His grip was like duryllium, and there was an abrupt, sharp pain rippling through Starscream’s sensory net.
He buried a scream behind a hiss and stumbled when Turmoil jerked him closer, his other hand snatching Starscream’s chin.
“If you were less mouthy, you’d almost be cute,” Turmoil said as he turned Starscream’s jaw this way and that. “Though I have a feeling it would be fun to break you.”
Starscream’s processor spun. Error messages lit up his HUD like fireworks as metal creaked and Turmoil’s grip tightened. Something snapped, something important, and a thin whine eeked in his intake.
His hands curled into fists. His vents turned ragged. He couldn’t… he wasn’t allowed to…
“Turmoil, if you break my merchandise, you have to buy it,” Streamline said in a bland tone.
He was such a fragging coward when it came to his business contacts. Knowing that said businesses were worth more than the loss of a single Seeker buymech. Starscream was replaceable, like so many of his kin.
Frag him. Frag all of them. Starscream was worth it, and Rodimus was, too.
“He offered to be broken. I’m only giving him what he wants,” Turmoil said, his grip on Starscream’s chin painfully tight. “Isn’t that right, Seeker? I can take you to a room, and tear you apart, and you’ll let me. So long as I leave the whore behind you out of it?”
Starscream’s ventilations gasped. His wing burned. “Yes, sir,” he gritted out as Sunstreaker’s pings blasted his comm. “That’s what I said.”
Silence fell like a weight through the main room. Starscream felt it, sure as he felt the optics on them, customers and escorts alike watching the events. Sure as he felt Sunstreaker getting closer, grumbling, pushing through the curious throng.
Turmoil chuckled darkly, and something went pop in Starscream’s wing, something that sent a white-hot shock of agony through his frame.
“Stop it!”
Rodimus’ voice cut through the haze.
“Let him go!”
Fire blazed in his wing. Starscream stumbled backward as someone yanked on him, tearing him from Turmoil’s grip. He listed, knees wobbling, and a blur of orange and red planted itself in front of him.
“I’m here. Just take me already,” Rodimus snarled, his hands fisting at his sides, his spoiler trembling.
Turmoil’s visor brightened with delight. “You have a spinal strut after all, pet.” His fingers closed around Rodimus’ wrist, dragging him close, highlighting the obscene size difference between them.
Starscream tried to speak, his vocalizer crackling. He tried to grab Rodimus and missed, and then there were hands on him, holding him upright.
“It’s all right, Starscream.”
He knew this voice, murmuring in his audial, though he’d never heard it with this tone.
“I have this under control,” Nightshade said.
Turmoil slid a possessive hand around the back of Rodimus’ head, and Rodimus’ field sank into a sickly poisoned sludge.
“Hold on a moment, please.”
Starscream did not know this voice. But it cut through the tension like a vibroblade through a mech’s undercarriage.
In his periphery, the Enforcer rose to his feet, and Atomizer beside him, though there was none of the seductive grace in Atomizer’s stance. The Enforcer had a hand pressed to his comm, and a thoughtful look on his face. He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn’t possibly see him.
“You’re certain?” the Enforcer asked as he stared at Turmoil, his lips sliding from a thin press to a small smirk. Atomizer draped against his side, but there was challenge in his visor. “I will not be satisfied with anything less than one-hundred percent.” He paused as Atomizer stroked over the flat of his belly, flirtatious and unconcerned. “Very well. Thank you.”
“Prowl, what is the meaning of this?” Turmoil demanded with a growl that made Starscream’s plating crawl. His hold on Rodimus loosened, and Rodimus tore himself free, scrambling backward, into Starscream’s reach.
“You know, you cause trouble wherever you go,” Prowl said with a soft sigh. His thigh panel popped open, and he withdrew a blaster. “But I’m grateful for that, as it gives me the opportunity to arrest you. And I’ve been wanting to do that for the better part of a century.”
You could have heard energon splatter on the floor.
Starscream froze. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He swayed, and Nightshade behind him was suddenly as strong and sturdy as a rock.
“The frag?” Turmoil reared back, his engine roaring. “This some kind of joke?”
“No, it’s not.” The harsh whine of a blaster charging ratcheted up the tension as Turmoil’s tall and gangly guard pointed a gun at his master’s head. “Sorry, boss. But as it turns out, Prowl pays better. Plus, he’s a hell of a lot cuter.”
“Tumbler, be quiet.”
Tumbler’s visor flashed with humor. “Sure thing, boss.” The end of his blaster tapped the side of Turmoil’s head. “And by boss, I meant Prowl. Not you.”
Turmoil growled. His field throbbed through the room, heavy with menace, and Starscream swayed a bit more.
He caught Rodimus’ shoulder with one hand, pulling Rodimus back against him, and Rodimus came willingly. He still shook in earnest.
“You should drop it, Tumbler,” said Turmoil’s other guard. He drew his own blaster and aimed it at Tumbler’s head. “Me and the boss, we’re both getting out of here, understand me?”
“You might want to rethink that, pal.”
Starscream stiffened. He knew that voice, too. He followed it right to a lounge along the wall, where Bluestreak had a sniper rifle casually leveled at Turmoil’s other guard. Jazz draped himself across the back of the lounge, and Bluestreak by proxy. He looked as pleased as a cybercat who caught the metallocanary.
“My sparkmate here has the best aim in the universe,” Jazz continued, still with that lazy, unbothered drawl. “Can pick a rivet off a scout ship from half a planet away, he can.”
Bluestreak rolled his optics. “Don’t exaggerate, pet.” His rifle didn’t waver.
“Yes, dear.” Jazz’s grin broadened. One hand toyed with the nearest of Bluestreak’s sensory panels, the other rested possessively over Bluestreak’s ample chassis. “So Turmoil, as you see, you’re out of options. And completely surrounded.”
Turmoil snarled, his field lancing through the room. “This was you, wasn’t it?” he growled, massive finger pointing at Rodimus, who recoiled back against Starscream. “You think you can tattle on me and it’ll save you? You think these Enforcers care about some shareware?
“Actually.” Drift stepped out of the crowd, which had thinned remarkably, many of the escorts slowly but surely vanishing to the exits. “It was me.”
Turmoil stared at him. “Who the frag are--” He cut off as recognition dawned, and then his visor flashed with rage. “Deadlock,” he snarled, and the sound of it sent a shiver of almost-fear down Starscream’s spine.
There was murder most foul in Turmoil’s visor and in his field.
His foot clomped on the floor as he took a step toward Drift, hands clenching in and out of fists at his side, as though nothing else existed in the room but his rage at what Deadlock had done.
“When I’m through with this nonsense, you’ll wish your sparker had never left you to die in that gutter,” Turmoil hissed.
“Through?” Prowl echoed and waved Atomizer off his side with a flick of his fingers. “Turmoil, I don’t think you comprehend what is happening here. Where you’re going, you’ll never see the light of Luna-One again.”
Turmoil swung back toward the Enforcer, as though Tumbler’s blaster against his head was nothing to be concerned about. “If you want that precious artifact you came here to buy, you’d better be prepared to make a deal.”
Prowl didn’t look the least bit ruffled. He arched an orbital ridge, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he wanted to smile.
As if on cue, the main doors opened. Everyone stiffened. Blasters whined. A large blue mech Starscream had never seen before strolled inside, a cybercat at his heels, and an avian cassette on his shoulder, opposite some kind of mounted blaster. Both visor and mouthguard his his face from view. He had a box of some kind in one of his hands.
“Target acquired,” he said, in a monotone that would have envied Compute.
Prowl’s sensory panels twitched. “Thank you, Soundwave. You are always so punctual with these things.”
Soundwave tipped his head. “Compliment appreciated.” The bird on his shoulder chirped.
Prowl accepted the box and gave it a telling wiggle. Whatever was inside clunked as it hit the edges of the box. “Did you mean this artifact?”
Turmoil’s field went incandescent with rage. “How--”
“Do not presume to think I am dumber than you.” Prowl’s optics went ice blue and cold. “Unlike you, I do not make mistakes.” He tucked the artifact behind his back and moved closer to Turmoil, the mob boss towering over him, though Prowl looked not the least bit bothered by this. “I will enjoy watching them strip your spark from you.”
Turmoil’s vents heaved. “When I am free, I will rend your head from your shoulders. And then I’ll come for the rest.”
“You may try.” Prowl turned away with a sharp clip. “Arrest him and take him to the transport.”
Turmoil roared.
Chaos reigned.
Mechs rushed forward: Drift and Spinner, Skids from who the frag knew where, Atomizer, the one named Tumbler. They threw themselves at Turmoil.
Starscream stumbled as both he and Rodimus were abruptly pulled backward, and Nightshade surged in front of them. Taller he might be, but there was less mass to Nightshade. Someone like him couldn’t possibly stand up to Turmoil.
“Stay behind me,” Nightshade said in a tone that demanded obedience. If he was at all concerned by the threat Turmoil presented, he didn’t show it.
Starscream’s processor spun. His wing ached. He felt dizzy and swayed, and only Rodimus grabbing his elbow kept him from staggering.
What in Primus’ name was going on?
Past Nightshade, a struggle raged and roared. Someone shot Turmoil with what looked like blue-white fire.
It sizzled and crackled. Turmoil dropped to a knee, mechs draping from his massive frame like extra bits of kibble.
Turmoil’s remaining loyal guard tried to flee. Soundwave’s cassettes – the cat and the bird – converged on him, bringing him down with little effort.
Turmoil raged. Cuffs slapped around his wrist. Starscream couldn’t tell who’d used them on the madness.
Turmoil struggled, but the cuffs dampened his energy, made him weak and pliable. Unfortunately, it didn’t curb his glossa, for he yelled vitriol as they pulled him away. He cursed Prowl. He threatened Streamline. He saved the tastiest tidbits for Drift and Rodimus, words that didn’t bear repeating.
Rodimus threw himself into Starscream’s arms, clinging tight, as if he thought he could mold their frames together.
“I thought he was going to hurt you,” Rodimus said, muffled against Starscream’s cockpit. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Starscream leaned heavily on Rodimus, his wing aching more and more with each passing moment. There was a bent strut, he was sure of it.
Rodimus’ fingers dug into his seams. “Yes, it is. If he’d killed you...”
“But he did not, and you are safe.” Starscream tilted his head against Rodimus’, sliding his arms around the younger mech’s frame. “You’re free of him now.”
“I’m never going to be free,” Rodimus murmured in a bleak tone. “Never.”
Starscream cycled a ventilation. He wasn’t one to give false hope. But he wasn’t one to wallow in despair either. There was always the chance Turmoil managed to evade justice. He’d done it before, though under different circumstances.
Arms enfolded Starscream from behind, though careful of his wing. Starscream caught a whiff of expensive polish before he could relax.
“You fool,” Sunstreaker whispered, fierce and angry and relieved into Starscream’s audial. “You utter fool.”
For once, Starscream allowed the chastisement. His roommate was not wrong. Turmoil could have killed him.
“It’s fine,” Starscream replied. “It’s over now.”
“You need to see Wrench,” Sunstreaker said, arms tight around Starscream’s abdomen, his field a nauseating swirl of worry and anger.
“Later.” Starscream cycled several ventilations, but there was a rattle in his vents, in his knees.
He’d never been more aware of his mortality until now.
Investigative forces trooped into Blue Sun. Turmoil vanished out the door, probably to be stuffed into a transport and hopefully, he’d be discarded into a deep, dark pit where no one would ever see him again.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Sunstreaker murmured.
“I’m so sorry,” Rodimus whispered.
A deep, dark pit wasn’t good enough, Starscream decided.
There wasn’t enough justice in the world.
