Dead Mech Walking

do you fear me ?

[dxdlck]

Blackcomb hugged his old mate from behind and purred, "Hello."

Deadlock’s nerves prickle at the touch. His helm falls back, bumping the other’s cheek. 

“Hey.” 

[cybertronian-gutterpunk]

((Closed starter for @dxdlck ))

Breakout could barely control the shaking of his hands as he fumbled his way around the apartment. He had never been fitted with night vision lenses, so he had to rely on what meager light source the street lights provided to navigate himself in the unknown space. A slither of light managed to penetrate the glass window of a room in the back, which illuminated his path down the hallway.   He walked as quietly as he could down the hall, dimming down his biolights to lessen the chances of being seen snooping around the apartment from the outside. He clumsily stumbled over what seemed like furniture in his way, but he did not stop to confirm what any of those things were; he was in a rush afterall.

Times had been rough for the miners of the city over the past few months. The Senate had cut their salaries again and rations were taking longer to deliver. Their reasoning behind this, was that the planet’s economy was at a decline and if they wanted to keep it afloat, everyone had to take a hit. Breakout had run out of Energon a week ago and he was recycling his coolant and oils for twice as long. He felt sick to his tanks and he had become desperate for a new source of fuel. Unfortunately, others had the idea to steal before him, so Energon storage units were guarded by Senate appointed sentinels to prevent future raids. Stealing from them wasn’t an option now, so many had resorted to petty crime.

He wasn’t exactly sure if what he had broken into was an actual apartment or not, since he couldn’t see much of it. It was certainly a living space, but he had no idea what it looked like or in what state it was in. All he wanted to know, was where the inhabitants of this place stored their Energon. He swiftly entered the first room whose door he located with his touch. He could almost feel his spark pulsing inside his chest, as he rummaged through the unknown stuff that this room contained. Some were heavy, some were not, he had no idea what this room’s purpose was since there was no light source to light his way through it.

After what seemed like eons, Breakout finally found the handle of a storage space. A wave of relief washed over him as he opened the large cupboard to be greeted with the sight of about a dozen Energon cubes piled on top of each other. He almost gasped at the soft pink glow of the cubes as we reached for the one closest to him.  They were kinda murky and definitely not the highest quality one could buy, but he could not care less. This was the only fuel he’d had in a week, and by Primus it tasted amazing. 

He quickly started stashing as many of them as he could into his subspace, while taking sips from the one he had already had in his hand. He had to be out of this place as soon as possible if he wanted to keep his helm on his shoulders. Sentinels frequently shot mechs on sight, and if he was caught red-handed, the reflective warning tape stuck all over his frame would make him an easy target to spot and take down.

[dxdlck]

cybertronian-gutterpunk

.

Breakout watched in horror as the blade of his axe glided across the mech’s chassis, hardly causing any damage at all. He watched on, as the sheet of dried energon on his chest cracked and flaked, falling down on him slowly as if everything around him was happening in slow motion.

He was so, so fucked.

The moment he realized what he had just done was the moment he froze in his tracks. His processor, overridden with terror wasn’t able to calculate the best possible reaction to the situation he had brought himself in.

He could merely raise his helm to face Deadlock, with his axe still firmly held inside his shaking hand. His entire frame felt numb, and even the slightest motion that he made took an enormous amount of physical and especially, mental strength.

Breakout screamed in pain as he was shoved and pressed against the wall. His optics shot up in agony as he felt the blade of a small knife being plunged into his midsection, right under his chest. His vents flared up as the blade was pushed further in, and the shoulder of the arm with which he held his axe was grabbed and pressed against the wall.

The axe escaped his hand because of the force of the attack and it fell by his size with a loud clang. It rolled on the floor, half a meter away from the two of them, after the blade was deactivated with a soft buzz.

A pained wince escaped his mouth at the sight of Deadlock’s denta and he turned his helm to the left, trying to get his face as far away from his as he could.

“Let- let me go” he whispered as his vocalizer began to glitch under the pain of the stab wound “I m-mean no harm.”

“Please let me go” he begged “I swear I’m go-going to return everything.”

.

Oh?

“What did you take?”

Denta retreating back into his mouth, Deadlock presses his lips into a thin line. His right optic flickers, losing colour for a moment while it narrows. Suspicion weighs heavily in both crimson orbs, processor running from rational and logical thought alike. 

He hadn’t heard them long, but he can’t say they were better hidden before. The information wasn’t known to him. Too much missing without a way to easily fill it, he supplies it with assumptions first. The mecha was rummaging through his storage, hungry most likely, and desperate. They wreaked of it after all. Still unsure, there is a chance they have been here longer than he thinks. No matter how unlikely, he does not push the thought aside. 

“What did you take?” Louder now, the underlying fury of his voice is laced unmistakably with paranoia. 

Sharpened claws bite further into the metal under their hold, audible denting, raking through. They are unforgiving. The knife remains relatively unmoved, though Deadlocks fists clenches tightly and unclasps around it repeatedly, jolting it slightly. He doesn’t make like he’ll remove it or force it deeper, nor twist it or drag it. For the moment at least. Now is not the time for his temper to drive him. To get sloppy so soon, that would disappoint even himself. 

So he releases the other’s shoulder, moving in favour of simply pressing it to the wall, keeping the other pinned. He doesn’t think they’d be willing to move from his blade, but he cannot trust his intuition, having already been caught off guard once. 

Deadlock swallows, refocusing his optics on the mech. “You were hungry, right?” His face comes closer, optics everywhere as his body blocks out everything else. 

The soft pat of blood dripping to the floor has slowed, drying a delicious pink on his chassis. It’s louder though, with nothing much else to occupy his hearing. Near deafening as he gropes for the words that are likely to help him ease the situation further, into the right corners he needs to certainly trap the other completely. So, he tries to lighten up on his tone. 

“You didn’t touch anything else?”  

[lilac-rph]

           I’m merciless.                        When will you learn?

      Set fires just to watch them 𝘽𝙐𝙍𝙉.

[absinthundblut]

[cybertronian-gutterpunk]

Salt and Sanctuary

((Closed starter for @dxdlck ))

Breakout could barely control the shaking of his hands as he fumbled his way around the apartment. He had never been fitted with night vision lenses, so he had to rely on what meager light source the street lights provided to navigate himself in the unknown space. A slither of light managed to penetrate the glass window of a room in the back, which illuminated his path down the hallway.   He walked as quietly as he could down the hall, dimming down his biolights to lessen the chances of being seen snooping around the apartment from the outside. He clumsily stumbled over what seemed like furniture in his way, but he did not stop to confirm what any of those things were; he was in a rush afterall.

Times had been rough for the miners of the city over the past few months. The Senate had cut their salaries again and rations were taking longer to deliver. Their reasoning behind this, was that the planet’s economy was at a decline and if they wanted to keep it afloat, everyone had to take a hit. Breakout had run out of Energon a week ago and he was recycling his coolant and oils for twice as long. He felt sick to his tanks and he had become desperate for a new source of fuel. Unfortunately, others had the idea to steal before him, so Energon storage units were guarded by Senate appointed sentinels to prevent future raids. Stealing from them wasn’t an option now, so many had resorted to petty crime.

He wasn’t exactly sure if what he had broken into was an actual apartment or not, since he couldn’t see much of it. It was certainly a living space, but he had no idea what it looked like or in what state it was in. All he wanted to know, was where the inhabitants of this place stored their Energon. He swiftly entered the first room whose door he located with his touch. He could almost feel his spark pulsing inside his chest, as he rummaged through the unknown stuff that this room contained. Some were heavy, some were not, he had no idea what this room’s purpose was since there was no light source to light his way through it.

After what seemed like eons, Breakout finally found the handle of a storage space. A wave of relief washed over him as he opened the large cupboard to be greeted with the sight of about a dozen Energon cubes piled on top of each other. He almost gasped at the soft pink glow of the cubes as we reached for the one closest to him.  They were kinda murky and definitely not the highest quality one could buy, but he could not care less. This was the only fuel he’d had in a week, and by Primus it tasted amazing. 

He quickly started stashing as many of them as he could into his subspace, while taking sips from the one he had already had in his hand. He had to be out of this place as soon as possible if he wanted to keep his helm on his shoulders. Sentinels frequently shot mechs on sight, and if he was caught red-handed, the reflective warning tape stuck all over his frame would make him an easy target to spot and take down.

[dxdlck]

cybertronian-gutterpunk

.

The closer Deadlock came to him, the more uneasy Breakout became. His spark sunk inside his chest, as he found to get as far away from the unknown mech as he could and as close to the wall as physically possible. He didn’t dare blink his optics as he pressed his back against the wall, fearing that breaking their line of sight would leave him vulnerable to a sudden attack.

It was only when the mech leaned over him and their face plates came closer that he realized who he really was. Breakout’s vocalizer glitched and the only thing that came out of his mouth was a silent gasp. His antennas immediately fell back and he instictively tried to take another step back, but he just blindly fell on the walls of the room.

What kind of place had he just walked in?

Suddenly he became very aware of the enviroment around him. The room absolutely stunk of rust and decaying energon. It smelt like a Kaonian pit fighting ring at the end of a death tournament and the more this disgusting dead air filled his vents, the more claustophobic he felt. Breakout flinched when a drop of the energon that stained Deadlock’s chassis fell on his forehelm. He didn’t dare to reply to any of the Decepticon’s remarks yet, and just stood in his place silently drowning in fear, as the drop trickled down his face.

He had only heard tales about the Decepticon Deadlock during his brief service under Megatron’s command. The vicious bloodthirsty fighter, that was feared by Autobots and Decepticons alike. The amount of rumors that circulated about him made it impossible to distinguish the truth about his past from the lies, but one was sure; Deadlock was not a mech you’d want to mess with.

Sadly this was exactly what he had managed to do. There was no going back now. He’d either have to fight Deadlock to have a chance at escaping his wrath, or sit still and wait to be brutally slaughtered. He doubted many had escaped the walls he was now confined in, judging by the smell of the air around him, but if he wanted to have the smallest chance at survival, he’d have to fight.

He swiftly pulled his axe from its magnet and immediately flicked the switch that activated the blade. Purple weaponized energy sprung out of the top of the handle, to form the blade of his mining axe. Before his battle computer could even calculate where to throw the weapon, Breakout swung his axe with all of his force, aiming for Deadlock’s helm.

He had only one chance at this. If this attack failed, his faith would be the same as the countless other mechs that had walked into Deadlock’s trap.

.

  The silence left Deadlock’s processor on edge, filling it to the brim with possibilities and thoughts that overclouded his initial thoughts. Was this mech just a simple thief? Did they know he was here? They didn’t look like much else, nothing special as far as his optics could pick up. There could have been something he was missing, the paranoia chimes in his helm. 

   But the fear looked genuine. Who was he kidding though? Even his alleys would look at him that way, but their gazes never lingered long enough to anger him, just enough to notice. That thought didn’t help at all. 

  A sudden flash of purple sent Deadlock reeling. Just narrowly did the edge of the mining axe miss his helm, slicing the plating of his chest and thin air with a force that sent it gliding past his Armour as he fell back. Flakes of energon peeled away with fresher beads of pink. His processor whipped so quickly into defense that it hurt, systems desperately calculating while he ignored them and lunged forward with a swipe from his wrist. The metal of his blade hit something.

   He pressed forward with the aid of the wall, using it’s surface to try and block the other mech in. Deadlock made it far, reaching with his free servo to push and hold whatever piece of armour was closest to him. Lips curled into a snarl, baring the signature fangs of his denta.

   As his processor caught up, a fresh sting blossomed on his chest.

“You little-!”

   Don’t loose your chance, his helm chimes. But what does it matter? That was lost when he first spoke. 

“I swear.. I was going to be nice,” Deadlock sneers. 

   As nice as one could be when most of his thoughts were littered with flashes of gore and nearly heavenly thoughts of how he could rip this mech apart. He might have been quick before, eased into it -who was he kidding. Once he got to it, Deadlock would have slipped into his old habits- but now.. now he wanted it to hurt. 

[cybertronian-gutterpunk]

Salt and Sanctuary

[dxdlck]

cybertronian-gutterpunk

.

Breakout thought his plan was running smoothly up until the point he heard the click of a lock. The sound was faint enough for him to convince himself that he just misheard something, so he continued stuffing cubes inside his subspace, this time with shaky hands. He tried reminding himself that his audio sensors probably weren’t even made to be able to detect such subtle sounds from a distance. The years he had spent working in the mines had also damaged his noise receptors, so it was most likely that what he had heard was just a result of his paranoia.

He was desperately trying to persuade himself that everything was rolling smoothly up to that point. He had done his best to not be spotted entering the apartment, he had made little to no sound since he stepped his pede in and he was moving as fast as he could. Things were going great so far and he had no reason to be so stressed; it would only make completing the burglary more difficult for him. However, the more time he spent inside that apartment, the more difficult it was for him to shake off the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

Breakout’s worst fears were confirmed, once he heard the voice adressing him from the front of the room. The realization that he wasn’t alone in this apartment came to him like a punch to the throat and his back violently spasmed as he almost choked on the energon he was slowly sipping from. His spark began to race, beating as fast as it could against its casing, as he slowly placed down the last energon cube he had in his hands and turned on his heels to face the mech that was talking to him.

Paralyzing fearing took over him as he came face to face with the stranger. The mech seemed to be of higher stature than him and the only thing that illuminated his sharp facial features was a pair of bright red optics. The room was too badly lit for him to tell any other of his features apart, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to come any closer to the mech to get a better look at him.

Breakout cautiously moved back as he was approached by the stranger, until his back was against the wall. He was basically unarmed. While guns weren’t hard to find, they were way out of his budget and the only thing he had to defend himself was the axe he used in the mines. It was currently deactivated and attached to his hip with a strong magnet, but he couldn’t pull it out yet. The blade glowed bright purple once activated and the last thing he wanted was to provoke the intimidating stranger.

“I-I can explain, I-” he managed to stammer as he cowered back in fear. He cautiously raised his left hand over his face to protect it while simultaneously slowly moving his right one to his hip, trying to grab his axe.

What he was hoping for, was for the deep darkness of the room to conceal the fact that he was going for his axe. The only possibility he had to escape relatively unharmed depended on him having an advantage over the stranger and that would only be possible if his weapon remained out of sight.

.

   The fear alone was intoxicating. To his smile and all the denta behind it was hard. Deadlock swore he could feel himself salivating over it, overzealous to feel that rush of adrenaline he was sure to get. Not now. He wouldn’t have gotten this far if he just attacked blindly. 

“You almost gave me a fright, mech,” he chuckled, the sound breathy and filled with static, “To think.. who else could’ve come in here..”

   Deadlock’s servo lingered behind his thigh, concealing the weapon in his palm. He didn’t know what the other could see. It didn’t glow, but the metal was still pristine and might glint off the subtle light from an optic. Though, that was probably far fetched to even his mind. To appear unarmed; he liked that. To know what the other had, he’d like that even more. To know what their optics could see. He wondered, could they see the energon dripping from his chest? Congealing and sticking to him like rust? Could they hear the little drops hit the floor over the sounds of their internal machinery?

“But it was only a petty thief,” the paranoia lingered. 

   Stepping closer, Deadlock gets a better look at his intruder. Non-combatant, almost, but not defenseless. He was reaching for something it seemed, and he didn’t know what. The unease this sent up his spinal strut was unwelcome. He wants to make it go away with a quick, little-  He can’t act irrationally. One wrong move and all of this could slip right out of his fingers. To get excited, no, over-confident now would do him no good. 

   He crouched, hunching his back to make himself seem like a small, non-threatening form to the mecha cowered in his corner. The more jagged edges of his ruined armour wouldn’t help, but they blurred together to smooth out in the dark room. The smaller lights along his chest flickered, trying to keep up but too broken to work right. 

“Explain then. Maybe,” He snorted under his breath, “you can justify this.” The word didn’t sit well on his glossa. “You seem.. hungry, after all,” his helm tilts to the side, optics directed to the storage room now much less organized. 

[lukas-musings]

If I could 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 If I could ᴛʀᴀᴅᴇ his life for 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦

He’d be standing 🇭​🇪​🇷​🇪​ right now

                     & you would 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦            & that would be 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝

[edgyy-babe]

Violent mlm Yandere

[smokey-prime]

Gladiator AU (Closed Starter for dxdlck)

[dxdlck]

smokey-prime

.

Suffitus’ optic followed Deadlock just as closely as his “master” patrolled around the room. Med bay? Primus, he really got fragged up, didn’t he? He tensed up a bit out of reflex when Deadlock loomed over him, briefly wishing he could move his currently attached arm to protect himself for whatever the Con had planned. When he felt those digits run over a weld on his bare chest, he gasped sharply from the cold touch, pain shooting through his frame from touching the horrible wound.

“Ngh…L-Like…Like about as slag as a guy who just got torn apart and raped in front of a crowd can feel…” He wheezed, accidentally coughing up more energon onto Deadlock’s chest. “I’ve…frag…never taken a beating this bad before…”

How did this happen? He was a fragging Prime and he lost to…to a big gladiator? What was going on…?

“Who..Who the frag was that guy…?” he asked. “What…What’s his fragging deal..?”

.

“Take it easy..” he mumbles, begrudgingly wiping away the energon from his chest. 

   Deadlock paces around the room, thinking, trying to remember. “Turmoil likes him, and the fragger likes to fight.” Why Turmoil wanted the two to fight was beyond him, since the champion was used to death matches and the sort. “He’s good and rallying a crowd against whoever he’s in there to kill, like any ‘con.” 

   Pedesteps pass outside the room, loud and booming, coming from a bigger bot. Deadlock falters in his pacing, watching until they fade again. He resumes after, servos crossed, digits tapping. He’s been standing still and watching for an uncomfortably long time. 

“Glad he didn’t kill ya, but death.. might’ve been a better alternative.” 

[cybertronian-gutterpunk]

Salt and Sanctuary

[dxdlck]

cybertronian-gutterpunk

.

Breakout could barely control the shaking of his hands as he fumbled his way around the apartment. He had never been fitted with night vision lenses, so he had to rely on what meager light source the street lights provided to navigate himself in the unknown space. A slither of light managed to penetrate the glass window of a room in the back, which illuminated his path down the hallway.   He walked as quietly as he could down the hall, dimming down his biolights to lessen the chances of being seen snooping around the apartment from the outside. He clumsily stumbled over what seemed like furniture in his way, but he did not stop to confirm what any of those things were; he was in a rush afterall.

Times had been rough for the miners of the city over the past few months. The Senate had cut their salaries again and rations were taking longer to deliver. Their reasoning behind this, was that the planet’s economy was at a decline and if they wanted to keep it afloat, everyone had to take a hit. Breakout had run out of Energon a week ago and he was recycling his coolant and oils for twice as long. He felt sick to his tanks and he had become desperate for a new source of fuel. Unfortunately, others had the idea to steal before him, so Energon storage units were guarded by Senate appointed sentinels to prevent future raids. Stealing from them wasn’t an option now, so many had resorted to petty crime.

He wasn’t exactly sure if what he had broken into was an actual apartment or not, since he couldn’t see much of it. It was certainly a living space, but he had no idea what it looked like or in what state it was in. All he wanted to know, was where the inhabitants of this place stored their Energon. He swiftly entered the first room whose door he located with his touch. He could almost feel his spark pulsing inside his chest, as he rummaged through the unknown stuff that this room contained. Some were heavy, some were not, he had no idea what this room’s purpose was since there was no light source to light his way through it.

After what seemed like eons, Breakout finally found the handle of a storage space. A wave of relief washed over him as he opened the large cupboard to be greeted with the sight of about a dozen Energon cubes piled on top of each other. He almost gasped at the soft pink glow of the cubes as we reached for the one closest to him. They were kinda murky and definitely not the highest quality one could buy, but he could not care less. This was the only fuel he’d had in a week, and by Primus it tasted amazing.

He quickly started stashing as many of them as he could into his subspace, while taking sips from the one he had already had in his hand. He had to be out of this place as soon as possible if he wanted to keep his helm on his shoulders. Sentinels frequently shot mechs on sight, and if he was caught red-handed, the reflective warning tape stuck all over his frame would make him an easy target to spot and take down.

.

   The importance of his work could have distracted him for a while, but distraction was deadly, and he wouldn’t dare let himself be caught blindsided. The shuffling is what he heard first. Loud enough that he knew he wasn’t alone anymore, but too faint for whoever to be close to him. This sparked concern at first, energon far too stained over metal plating, then anger. His features shifted drastically, unreasonable thoughts almost taking over reasonable action. To be interrupted now.. Curiosity is what he settled on however, as all he could hear faded completely without coming closer. 

   Foregoing his task, Deadlock quietly unlocks the door to his little room and looks around. Helm poking out, turning this way and that, he sees no one around nor lights to guide. He is met with the same comfortable darkness. Though now it’s turned foul. 

   Turning back to the room, out of habit he presses a finger to his mouth, a hushed ‘quiet’ slipping from his throat. There was no one to hear it in the bloodied mess. No one conscious, no one alive in any recent time to even know. The room was full of dead air after all, to be unmoved by any living presence other than his own. Stiff and filled with the stench of rust. That’s how he preferred it. He reached for a shelf, clutching a dagger between his digits before finally stepping out of the room. 

   Curiosity was a damning trait. Desperation might have been worse. 

   He checked the rooms as he always did; From the front to the back. Deadlock starts with the hall closest to the door, feeling the walls as he grown accustomed to before checking the lock. It clicks, stuck before anything can open like it should. The adjacent room is empty, the only other door he has to the outside closed. He checks the lock again. It doesn’t click, but glides smoothly open again. Deadlock kneels, investigating the lock before securing it. He checks again, hearing the satisfying click. He goes further into his search. 

   The empty excuse for a common area was easy, with his optics programmed well enough to see far, though the walls were always a black spot left unpainted to his privileged sight. Normally he would have walked past, undisturbed by the unknown of the small storage space left to the corner. Company was not normal. Stalking closer, the black became drawn, forms and items coming into view. He peered down the hall first, certain it was empty even with the lack of light. But the corner held a figure unknown to it before, unnatural to the space he called his own. 

“You” he spoke under his breath, “you must be desperate.”

[lotusmusings]

There’s really just one thing that we have in common:                 Neither of us will be missed

[ohmygoditsauri]

fangs.

[smokey-prime]

Gladiator AU (Closed Starter for dxdlck)

[dxdlck]

smokey-prime

.

An hour had passed after Suffitus had had his repairs finished. His limbs were restored, but they felt extremely sore, and not his own. He felt like he had gone five rounds in the pit with Megatron himself, to be honest.

How was he even alive?

Tilting his helm to the side, swollen optic opening barely, he saw Deadlock, and the cube of energon he had left by the young Prime’s side. Carefully, he looked around the rest of the room before trying to pick up the cube, but his weak body made the cube slip out of his servo and hit the floor, causing him to groan in frustration.

“Wh-Where…Where am I…?” he asked with  a hoarse, broken voice.

.

   Deadlock sighs, “Currently? Your own personal med bay.”

   He made his strides quick, kneeling down to pick up the shards of the glass. Brief does he make it, quick again when he disposes of the pieces. Though, upon return he does not settle back against the wall, he instead goes to Suffitus, looking over the replaced armour and decently fixed parts. Absently his digits trace over a less clean weld, but they don’t linger long. 

“I think you’ll be good to go soon. Though thanks to the trouble, it means a different arrangement. Not your concern really. Doubt you’d wanna go back to that room anyway.” 

   Deadlock would, if only to be further from Turmoil, though as Second in Command, he really cannot expect much else. Not when they need to reign in and expand some of their security. 

“How do you feel?”

[smokey-prime]

Gladiator AU (Closed Starter for dxdlck)

[dxdlck]

smokey-prime

.

Suffitus could barely keep track of the conversation going on, let alone his other surroundings as he faded in and out of consciousness from the massive pain that wracked his body. His optic caught the tiniest glance of Deadlock as he entered the room, finally noticing the medic that had been in the room with him as well. 

The young Prime couldn’t understand what the two Decepticons were arguing about, but whatever it was, the punch that Deadlock gave to the wall was apparent enough of a sign that told the conversation turned rather aggressive…

Trying to make the slightest bit of noise to get the mech’s attention, all that came out was a weak, static laced groan as he saw the medic approach him with the sedative. He tried his best to avoid the needle, tilting his helm away as much as he could. But it proved futile as the needle plunged deeply into his neck, his already weak consciousness fading completely as he finally passed out completely .

A few more words had pased between Deadlock and the medic, about repairs and certain fixes that wouldn't be the easiest. Deadlock approved almost all of them, stomring out of the room once he was fed up with explaining himself. It didn't matter. His orders were almost as absolute as Turmoil's.

In the end, the medic completed his task without fail, restoring the broken functions and missing armour plates that were lost in the battle. He fixed every he found, aside from the one wound among the protoflesh he couldn't fix. It would scar along the material no doubt. The armour was remade almost the same, the colours not a perfect match to what they had been, but close. And after the day cycle had concluded, night brought upon the base, he was done.

Suffitus was left to rest and come to when he rebooted on his own.

Soon after he was left, Deadlock returned to the room. He held a cube of energon, leaving it to rest beside Suffitus as he found the closest wall to lean on. And he waited.

[uranodioning]

“are you a top or a bottom?” i’m a threat

[psychotic-romeo]

[smokey-prime]

Gladiator AU (Closed Starter for dxdlck)

[smokey-prime]

dxdlck

Deadlock could not help him now. For once he wanted to, even knowing it would be stupid to try when this was the most ’entertained’ he’d always seen his fellow cons. Turmoil had noticed his unease, slithering a large hand to rest upon the small mech’s thigh. The gesture was small, but it ate up any temptations of helping or leaving all together.

Suffitus, at least, would not have to suffer the brute much longer.

Their pace had quickened to a desperate level, turning to short shallow thrusts that became more clumsy each passing second. It wasn’t long before he clamped down on the Prime’s shoulder, muffling the howl that escaped his processor as release came for him. Energon filled his mouth, wires and cabling bit through. Transfluid filled the Prime’s valve. His claws dug deeply into the Prime’s side, indenting, dripping blood from the wounds. The champion did not pull out until he was done.

Denta came to the Prime’s chest, riping at metal until protoflesh was exposed, then tearing through that. He bit down until all he tasted was energon, till the colourful blue filled his mouth. There’d be no removing the carnage he left, from both denta and claw.

Satiated was he finally with his victory.

Paneling clicked closed, the large mech leaning back on his knees. A smug adorned his features, unremovable.

He chuckles, “Thanks for the bonus. Hope to do it again.” If they fought again, he means. There was no certainty, not in his processor nor the next really.

By the time the champion had finished with Suffitus, he was a shell of the powerful Prime that came into the fight; crying mercy, begging for the torture to end as his frame was wrecked, torn asunder, and every horrid bit in between. 

His whole body was numb by the time he felt that hot, warm fluid fill his valve, his HUD was repeatedly glitching, several internal and external systems failing at the same time. He couldn’t stop the pain that shot through his system when the champion bit so hard into his shoulder. By the time he pulled free, Suffitus’ only other arm had lazily snapped off his torso, several connecting wires severed. 

Unable to fight back at all now, he could only let out weak, staticy cries as his chest was torn open next, The Matrix exposed to the entire crowd as blue energon coated his now naked frame. 

The Prime should’ve been dead already. His body was shutting down, the light of his spark getting dimmer and dimmer, feeling his optic power down as the last thing he saw was the smug grin on the gladiator’s face, ashamed that his time as Prime came to such a dishonorable, and brutal end. 

————————————————————

Or so he thought. 

An unknown amount of time had passed since his fight. Looking up through his cracked, swollen optic, Suffitus could see a blinding blue light rain down from above him. The cold metal on his bare back proved he was on a medical slab. He could still taste horrible tastes on his glossa as well; energon, coolant…transfluids…It all covered his naked frame. 

He couldn’t feel any limbs on him either, or move his helm for that matter. He wasn’t even sure if anyone else was around at this point. Where the frag was he?

[dxdlck]

Shouting came from the hall, faint at first but it grows like a crescendo until it stops with a sudden 'thwack'. Silence reclaims the space, only broken up by the sound of a door and now one set of steps. The argument had ended there.

Deadlock enters the sterile room, looking at the walls as if their colour offended him. Or maybe the room did, for the air it held now was indeed grim. He refused to look at Suffitus as he walked past, optics focused on the wall past him as he looked past the small area for the medic that called for him. He found them cleaning tools.

A hushed conversation ensues, interupted only by Deadlock's fist hitting the wall nearly halfway through. He snarls something, causing the medic to warily look at Suffitus then back. He gestures vaguely, leading Deadlock over to Suffitus as he finishes explaining all the repairs he'll need to do.

"... It will be a lot to do."

"Just repair him already."

"But Commander-"

"Did I not. Make. Myself. Clear," he spoke it like a statement, holding his tone alone the line of infuriated and frustrated.

".. of course sir." Carefully, under the careful watch of a commanding officer, the medic started with all he could; a low sedative- Any higher would risk the autobot's spark- in a fairly untouched place, and then busied himself with fetching the rest of the tools he'd need.