Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
|
Post by Swerve-3 on May 4, 2008 21:15:09 GMT -5
OOC: This takes place in the aftermath of the events following Gifts Given, Gifts Received, late night Day 10 or early morning Day 11.
For all that Swerve wants to look away, he hasn't been able to from the moment he first dragged himself into this corner. He tries to look anywhere else and every time, his gaze wanders back to Mirage's prone, beaten form lying there, across the room where Swerve left him.
Where Swerve tried to kill him.
The constable shudders and clutches his head in both broken hands, some fingers caught unmoving on snapped, dislocated struts, others lying limp, and he cries quietly into his knees. He feels sick at what he's done. Dirtied inside and out, sullied so much more deeply than Mirage managed to pry. He'd tried so hard to forget that thing he used to be, that he doesn't want to become again, and he let it escape. He lost control. Worst of all, he knows he enjoyed every second of the violence. He knows he revelled in making every dent, in warping and twisting the hound's parts and bringing every erg of hatred and suffering and despair to bear on him. That, more than anything else, hurts Swerve. Not his rent shoulder or frozen hip, not his shattered coolant pump. Not his pounding head or his throbbing hands, his split windscreen or his crackling circuits. He wanted to take the life of another and rejoiced in reaching for that goal.
That's a pain that leaves even his spark quaking as he huddles there, staring at Mirage and muffling his sobs, deaf to the approaching footsteps.
|
|
|
Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 4, 2008 22:04:59 GMT -5
The warehouse that Rodimus had chosen for himself had more than one storage room, and the Prime had been listening to the whole affair from the one adjacent to where the business happened. Listening, and grinning, and the pleased smile is still on his face.
But now Swerve is sobbing, crying over his misdeeds. That really won't do.
Rodimus's job won't be complete until Swerve can revel in the violence, and keep reveling in the aftermath. He wants no regret from his subjects.
He wants his subjects to not only enjoy their tasks, but also the after math. He glances at where Mirage lies broken, and mentally amends: that is assuming they behave as they should.
The faulty restraints are not the only ones available, and Rodimus, knowing how things would go, was prepared. He walks past Mirage and over towards Swerve, then crouches down. Sturdier, less fine, less likely to pinch, chains held in his right hand.
"You gained such pleasure from the release, constable," Rodimus murmurs. "Why bottle it back up?"
|
|
Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
|
Post by Swerve-3 on May 4, 2008 22:55:44 GMT -5
It takes a second or two for that voice to register. For the presence to sink in. Swerve doesn't dare look at the face looming that close; he shuts his optics off and fights to keep his ventilation from spiralling upward on him. He doesn't want to see just how pleased the Prime is with this "release" of his.
"No," he says through the static, out and out lying and not caring about it. "I didn't…." Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he'll even start believing it.
|
|
|
Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 4, 2008 23:44:45 GMT -5
"Whatever you say," the Prime smirks. "Either way, you did it."
He reaches for Swerve, intent to grab him and, though he has no desire to do the constable further damage, he does mean to see him restrained.
"You're a monster, Swerve. Just like us. What do you think your new friends will think once they see through that flimsy facade of nobility you wear." Successful or not, Rodimus pauses in his attempts to rebind Swerve to lean forward and whisper in the other's audial. "You belong with us. You're one of us. And the sooner you realize that, the better it will be for you."
|
|
Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
|
Post by Swerve-3 on May 5, 2008 0:32:49 GMT -5
Swerve knows what he did. He doesn't need another sick, gear-cracked glitcher reminding him, and for a whole two-tenths of a second, he finally looks at the Prime not in fear, but in anger, not hidden behind desperately clutched calm.
That anger flickers and dies quickly, though, the instant Prime's hands are on him, reawakening the pains that had dulled in the past few minutes. His shoulders, his chest, his ventral assembly, all sting and burn as he's grabbed and pulled and shifted. Struggling makes everything hurt more; he does it anyway. Tries to, gets nowhere. He's too spent and too damaged and the Prime is far too strong. All he really manages to do is hurt himself further, feeling something in one shoulder shear. He winces, clenching his jaw, then shakes his head.
"I'm not," he insists feebly. He was a monster once. Not any longer. He isn't that thing any more. Then who was it beating Mirage into the floor? "I… I don't. Not here."
|
|
Mirage-3
Rookie
Totally Not The Geezer
Posts: 222
|
Post by Mirage-3 on May 5, 2008 1:22:29 GMT -5
The broken, battered body on the ground was not unconscious, no matter how much it wished to be. One leg is crumpled at an odd angle beneath him, his chest is partially collapsed, and the arms he'd flung up to cover his face are mashed and shredded, poor protection they were, and one side of his head is collapsed, and his optics shattered. Their inner workings are pulled out and scattered randomly around his head. He can't hear, he can't see, but he can feel, oh yes, he can feel.
Vibrations of heavy feet on the floor, minute echoes of a struggle, these reach him through the pain which has ceased to be pain and just is.
The hound has been rewarded and punished all at the once. But like any good dog, Mirage knows the presence of his master. Sight and hearing are not needed. But is it loyalty or anger that prompts the ever so slight shift of his body toward the source of those vibrations, forces that rough burst of static from his damaged vocorder?
Or is it both?
|
|
|
Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 5, 2008 10:01:45 GMT -5
Rodimus's only response to Swerve is a light chuckle as he finishes binding the constable. Swerve will see the truth of the matter soon enough.
Rodimus will make sure of it.
The burst of static from the vocalizer behind him catches his attention. Once he's certain that Swerve is secure he stands up, turns, and walks steadily towards the broken ruin that is Mirage. The Prime examines Swerve's handiwork. "Impressive," he murmurs, lightly touching here and there, poking at some of the parts fallen off.
Transformers can take quite a bit of damage before they become irreparable. With immediate attention, Mirage is not beyond Rodimus's ability to heal even by traditional means. The problem, however, is that traditional methods take a lot of time, and there is a battle fast approaching.
Rodimus looks around, checking the room to make sure it's empty, glancing back at Swerve to make sure he's secure. And then, he opens the compartment in his chest and brings forth the Matrix, the wretched, defiled, profane source of his power. His fingers slip easily into holds sized just for them, and, commanding mentally as he pulls, the artifact opens just the slightest, its twisted blue-green energy falling over the hound.
|
|
Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
|
Post by Swerve-3 on May 6, 2008 14:28:25 GMT -5
Swerve winces at the sounds of the Prime's pleasure and appreciation. He winces because on some level, he's proud of what he did and enjoys the recognition. He doesn't want to feel this way, and still, he does. And he hates it. He hates Mirage for making him feel this way, he hates the Prime for being the monster responsible for all this. He hates himself for being so weak. So many things he could have – should have done differently. Radioed in spite of the hound's warning and trusted the Autobots to keep Emirate Xaaron safe; run instead of fighting; run after fighting, no matter how much it might have hurt.
More mistakes to add to the long list as he sits here, bound again and this time immobilised by damage and pain, not additives. As he watches, at first incredulity, then horror working its way across his features, while the Prime turns his attentions to his crippled hound.
|
|
Mirage-3
Rookie
Totally Not The Geezer
Posts: 222
|
Post by Mirage-3 on May 6, 2008 18:13:57 GMT -5
This is not the first time Rodimus has used the Matrix to heal Mirage. It's not the second. Too many times, and each time it gets easier for Mirage, less painful. Each time, another tiny part of Mirage's spark is remade to the Prime's specifications, each time, Mirage is bound more tightly.
Blessing and curse, this healing is.
Less painful, but still excruciating, as plating shifts and reforms, wires reattach, and circuits rebuild. Fingertips dig furrows in the warehouse floor as Mirage arches against the sensation. The last bits repaired, the last items to come back online are those piercing yellow optics.
Mirage is panting heavily as he tries to sit up. He levels a look on the Prime, a look tinged with hatred and something much darker.
"Ple....pleased with yourself, I....I see."
|
|
|
Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 6, 2008 19:43:41 GMT -5
"Mmmmmm," Rodimus rumbles, almost purring, as he reaches down to cup Mirage's chin with his hand. "Quite." He attempts to lift Mirage's head up, lowers his own face and attempts to kiss Mirage firmly on the lips, long, unyielding, but not harsh. Rodimus is, after all, quite satisfied with the night's events - they were nearly as fulfilling as if he'd been involved himself.
Once done, the Prime smiles, both fond a cruel, and murmurs, "Remember this. You are too valuable for me to risk losing, but even the most useful hound can be beaten." The thumb of the hand with which he tries to hold Mirage's gaze steady brushes across the hound's lips. "Just be glad this time I let you mix pleasure with punishment."
|
|
Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
|
Post by Swerve-3 on May 7, 2008 0:00:43 GMT -5
He could try hopping away while they're distracting each other, Swerve supposes, shuddering. If he can will his frozen hip into operation again, or trust that leg to hold any of his weight. He isn't so sure he can, though. Crawling? Too slow, much too slow. Desperate times, desperate measures. Maybe if he tries again to get away, someone will slip up and kill him. He can't help a pang of guilt at the idea, leaving Emirate Xaaron like that… but he'd prefer death to any risk of the Prime using that thing on him.
So the constable clenches his jaw, digs in his heels as best he can, and tries to push himself upright. His legs bound together means he's forcing that hip to move. And it's excruciating. But he has to try, to give it his best effort.
His best doesn't seem good enough; his injured leg spasms before he's even halfway there, jerking his feet out from under him, and he slides back to the floor, landing with a thud that jars his hip and thigh, sparking agony up and down relays still raw from Mirage's abuse. That seems to be all the spent constable can muster, even though he tries – and fails – a second time. They've probably noticed by now, he realises. They'll see how afraid he is and… and he finds it hard to care. He'd rather be afraid than raging.
|
|
Mirage-3
Rookie
Totally Not The Geezer
Posts: 222
|
Post by Mirage-3 on May 7, 2008 12:01:10 GMT -5
Mirage leans eagerly into that kiss, for once not caring that they are observed, and he attempts to bring on hand up to rest at the Prime's waist. The kiss done, Mirage tries to nip at that thumb running over his lips.
"Worth it," he murmurs, "Got what I wanted. All of it." Mirage tries to lean forward so that this next can't go beyond the Prime's audial, "But have a care yourself, or one day I might not stay my hand upon the trigger."
Swerve's struggles catch Mirage's attention, prompt him to swing his head from his master to study the constable. "I had no idea Swerve kept that inside him. I understand now why you were so eager to retrieve him."
|
|
|
Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 7, 2008 13:18:32 GMT -5
Rodimus allows Mirage's hand to rest where it will, and even for a moment moves slightly closer to the hound towards the end of the kiss. At the hound's warning, he snorts faintly, far too confident that Mirage would never be able to pull the trigger.
He rules many of his troops through fear, but fear is not his only tool, and Mirage, for all his bark and all his bite, is more completely ruled than most.
At the hunter's observation, Rodimus looks back at Swerve's noisy escape attempts, and chuckles lightly. "He keeps it well hidden," the Prime notes, "though that won't last much longer."
Then Prime stands and smiles cruelly down at Swerve. "Oh, don't worry," he says. "This-" and he taps his chest, "is not for you. At least not yet. You'll be remade into what you should be, step by excruciating, exhilarating step, and every inch of the way you'll know that what's being brought out is something that's been there all along - nothing I've given you."
"And then," Rodimus gloats, "once you've gone down that path and accepted your true nature, only then will the deal be sealed, so to speak."
He grins back at Mirage. "Thank you for helping me put such an... effective start to it all. But for now... for now he'll be kept under lock and key and guard. We've got a battle to tend to in just a few hours, and it would be a pity to lose this prize you've brought me."
|
|
Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
|
Post by Swerve-3 on May 7, 2008 18:11:23 GMT -5
The Prime's pronouncement draws a frown – fear and anger mingled – from Swerve where he sits, half-upright. Oh, how he'd love to wipe that mockery of a smile off the tyrant's face one punch at a time.
"You… you don't determine what I should be," declares Swerve, voice quavering with strain both mental and physical. The words are hollow comfort, but he takes refuge in them all the same and means every syllable. "You won't make me into something I'm not. You won't." Is the vehemence for Swerve himself or for the Prime? "No matter what you do." But the further Prime keeps that horrid chunk of living nightmare away from him, the better.
He won't go back to the way he was. He'll kill first. He'll die first. Going back will be the death of him, of everything he's become and everything he wants to be. He won't go back and he won't be made to go back. He can't let that happen. But fighting it has been torture in the truest and most awful sense of the word. It'd be so much easier to just give them what they want so they'll stop doing this to him and leave him alone. It'd be so much easier to welcome the rage again. Look what it helped him do, after all; he was microns from taking that scum Mirage out of the picture. And it felt good, too. Just like old times.
"NO!" Swerve recoils from his own thoughts, from Prime's gaze, toppling over to one side and hiding his face against the floor.
|
|
Mirage-3
Rookie
Totally Not The Geezer
Posts: 222
|
Post by Mirage-3 on May 7, 2008 22:55:09 GMT -5
Mirage stands with his Prime, unconsciously keeping a hand at Rodimus' waist, pressing close. This is the worst part of it all, this need to touch him which always hits Mirage after being healed in such a manner. But he has long since stopped fighting it.
Mirage watches Swerve struggle, listens to his protest, and a shadow of what might be sympathy floats across Mirage's face. Swerve's words prick memories, memories of the hound's own protests from long ago. Before he became this. Mirage turns his head away from Swerve's anguish to not-quite-rest against the Prime's chest.
The hound's head darts up again at the Prime's last words. "A few hours? But...." Mirage's hand tightens on Rodimus' waist.
|
|