I'm evil...

[yami_samuraiflo]

Poor, poor Perceptor. I wanted to play, ans so were the Stunticons. Hopefully, he will survive.

For cheysulinight! Thank you for everything you do for me.

Title: Should Have Known...
Rating: M
Warning: Don't read if you don't like non consensual pairings...
Pairings: Implied Starscream / Red alert, Stunticons / Perceptor, Hook / Perceptor, mentions of Scavenger / Grapple
Summary: It was unfortunate he had been alone at the time. Without anybody to back him up, without any proper weapon to use, he had been easy prey...

It was unfortunate he had been alone at the time. As he was only supposed to be gone from the Ark for a few hours, he hadn’t taken any bodyguard with him. They had offered though.

 

“Want me to come with you on your trip, Perceptor?”

“Thank Wheeljack, but no. I will be fine on my own.”

 

“Do you Perceptor want help? Me Swoop can help.”

“It’s very nice of you, Swoop, but I don’t need help for it. Perhaps another time,” he added upon seeing the dejected look on the Dinobot face.

 

“Are you sure you want to go alone, Perceptor? It would be better if you took someone with you. Brawn, perhaps?”

“Red Alert, I...”

“Please! You never know when the Decepticons are going to attack. You should be protected if anything...”

“Red Alert, please. I will just be gone for a couple of hours. I will still be nearby enough if anything happen. As for the Decepticons, no activity has been recorded in the area.”

“But...”

“Everything. Will. Be. Alright.”

 

How wrong he had been...

 

The Security Director had been really worried, more than he was usually. Had Red Alert known something? He was very close to Starscream, from what Perceptor had gathered from some of the conversations around the Common Room. Some of the Minibots had been rather...vocal and crude in their comments...

 

“What is he doing now? Gathering informations to sell to the Decepticons?”

“Why does Optimus still keep him around? Everybody know he’s just Starscream’s bitch...”

 

Inferno’s fist in the face was the only answer they got. The way Prowl and Ratchet had looked at them just after they had managed to stop the enraged fire truck was nothing short of deadly...

 

But even if it was true - and Perceptor didn't doubt for a second that some parts of it were true, especially after the incident with the Negavator - he sincerely doubted Red Alert would have put anyone in danger.

 

Perhaps he had just heard something. Or perhaps he was more far-sighted than he had thought at first...

 

In the end, it hadn’t changed his situation. Without anybody to back him up, without any proper weapon to use, he had been easy prey.

 

“Well well well, what have we here? A little Autobot without his friends?”

“Oh my, how unfortunate...for him!”

“Want to play with us, Autobot? You’re going to like it...”

 

Perceptor shook with fear as they began to march toward him, laughting evilly.

 

It had been the beginning of a nightmare.

 

A nightmare from which he couldn’t escape, even if he tried his best; first by trying to escape physically, then mentally...

 

He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to. Perhaps if he was unconscious, they would leave him alone... But Primus wasn’t with him, it seemed.

 

“No need to be so shy, Autobot; let us see your pretty optics...”

“Are you trying to drop into stasis on us, Autobot?”

“Nasty thing to do, don’t you think?”

“Has nobody ever told you that’s rude?”

“I think we should teach you some manners...”

 

His right arm was almost useless now, having been crushed at the shoulder by strongs hands. Most of his armor had been ripped off. It was hurting like the Pit, and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

 

They had made sure of that.

 

Curling onto himself, hugging his knees close to his body, Perceptor cried silently. He could still hear them and they twisted words, their insults. They had belittled him, mocked him and his struggle to fight them despite his lack of martial skills.

 

He could still see the way they had looked at him before they...

 

A sob ripped his vocalizer as he remembered what they had done to him.

 

“Spread them, little ‘Bot. Spread them, and perhaps we will not hurt you... as much.”

 

There was another round of laughter as he began to fight against the one trying to run his hands up his legs. No success. Soon, he was lying on the floor, arms and legs held firmly by three of them, as the fourth began to kneel in fron of him.

 

The last one looked at him without any interest. He wouldn’t participate. He hadn’t by then anyway. He looked as if everything bothered him.

 

“Not going to join us, Dead End?”

“Why? I don’t see the point. Whatever you do, you’re going to kill him anyway.”

 

The other looked at him with something akin to childish glee. It was terrifying.

 

“Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Why don’t we find out now?”

 

Perceptor hadn’t been eager to find out in the end. Actually, he had hoped to be deactivate as soon as possible once they had really started...

 

He fought a sob. He had not be inexperimented, far from it, but he had never been forced in a... relationship before. It had alway been consensual. The Stunticons didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word, or they simply didn’t care.

 

Except perhaps Dead End. He hadn’t done anything to him in the end, just watched with a bored expression. But then again, Dead End didn’t think like most Cybertronians...

 

A noise almost made the microscope jump. Stiffening, he listened carefully. From down the hall, he could hear it coming closer, and he knew exactly what it was. Steps.

 

Not loud enough to be a Seeker or worse, Motormaster. He shivered, thinking about the bigger mech, and the way he had forced himself on him earlier... today? Or was it days or weeks ago? He didn’t know for sure; his chronometer had been damaged and he had no way to know how long he had been a prisonner here.

 

He couldn’t bring his optics online. He was feeling so tired...

 

They had hurt him the worst way possible, and they had laughed at his suffering as if they were nothing. He had never met anybody, even among the Decepticons, who was so... cruel wasn’t the word. Amoral was more like it.

 

At least, the other Decepticons would have just shot him. They wouldn’t have tampered with his body, with his spark...

 

They had taken him with them. Why, he didn’t know exactly and didn’t want to know. But now, he was in ennemy territory. Lying on the ground, perfectly still, he could feel someone poke at his exposed circuits. The pain was terrible.

 

“What did you bring home this time?”

“Eh, isn’t he that scientist guy?”

“What do you want us to do with him?”

“What did you do to him? He look like he was run over by Menasor!”

“Ah, that’s a trick we haven’t tried yet!”

“Trick? What did you do exactly?”

 

A finger ran along some of his injuries, and he moaned in pain. Oh Primus, make it stop...

 

“His interface ports are damaged... Eh, you didn’t...?”

“What do you think?”

“Trust me, he was very good at it.”

“Are you insane?! What do you think the Autobots will do to us when they learn about this?!”

“They won’t know if we kill him now and nobody ever talks about it.”

“It’s doubtful.”

“Megatron could still have an use for him. No need to kill him for now.”

“Weren’t you the one who told you were lacking spare parts in the Medbay?”

 

He heard a snort as a hand softly patted his helm. It wasn’t exactly a bad touch, especially after everything he had gone through... He vaguely reconized the voice as belonging to one of the Constructicons, but which one, he couldn’t tell for sure.

 

“As if only one ‘bot would be enough...”

“And he doesn't qualify; most of his parts would need reformatting before being useful, and by that I mean those which aren't damaged beyond repair right now.”

“Put him in a cell. We’ll decide what to do with him later.”

 

Had the other Autobots even noticed he hadn’t come back as promised and started searching? Or had they simply thought he had been distracted and would likely contact them to excuse himself when he was a bit less absent minded? It wasn’t so unusual for him to be so caught in his researches that he didn’t notice how much time had passed...

 

Did it matter? Someone was coming. And that meant his agony was going to start again, if it was one of those...

 

Offlining his optics and letting his head drop some more, Perceptor tried to ignore his ‘visitor’.

 

“My, my... What a sorry mess you are.”

 

It wasn’t exactly someone he had expected. Motormaster for another round, Megatron or Soundwave for informations perhaps, but him?

 

Perceptor lifted his head enough to glare a little at the speaker. Well, he tried to; he wasn’t exactly used to glaring, and he had the impression it served more to amuse his captors than anything else.

 

“What do you want, Decepticon? Come to admire your friends’ handiwork?”

“I hardly think of the Stunticons as friends. Merely grunts in the army, they are.”

“Doesn’t seem to be the way they see it.”

“Oh, they may think what they want; in the end, it doesn’t change what they are.”

“And that would be?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?" The Decepticon smirked.

 

There was silence for a while before Perceptor finally spoke.

 

“...Why are you here, Hook?”

 

The Constructicon shrugged while moving closer to the cell.

 

“Orders. You need to be brought back to a better condition for interrogation. I was the mech appointed to the task.”

 

Perceptor just nodded, understanding. In his state, he wouldn't have been able to endure an interrogation, and he had no doubt the Decepticon’s leader planned to do one anyway, just to be sure he had nothing to hide.

 

He couldn’t help but scream when the Constructicon moved his arm so he could work on it. Hook just glanced at him before resuming his task.

 

“Don’t expect me to turn off your sensors, so keep quiet or it will likely be worst.”

 

The air was soon filled with the smell of charred metal and circuits. Limp against the surgeon, Perceptor tried to not move, even when the pain was almost unbearable. He just knew it wouldn’t be good if he did, either because the Constructicon would be unhappy or because he would mess with the reparation.

 

He didn’t know how long it had been since the start, but he could feel an improvement; his injuries didn’t hurt as much anymore, though the repairs were still fresh and slightly painful.

 

He longed for Ratchet carefull and soft touch when dealing with his patients. For someone with such an awful temper, the medic sure was nice and caring...

 

“Better this way, don’t you think?” Said Hook after a while.

 

The microscope finally noticed he had stopped. He hadn’t even felt it. Tentatively, he moved his arm a little. He was relieved when he felt and saw his fingers move, and he smiled. The purple and green mech looked pleased with his work.

 

“I trust you won’t be stupid enough to try to stand on your own or move this arm for a while?”

“I won’t,” Perceptor whispered back. “I promise.”

“Good.”

 

At this short answer, the Constructicon lifted him up and made him sit in front of him, pulling him close. The Autobot didn’t try to fight as he was moved; he just didn’t have any strengh left. And, strangely, he wasn’t afraid. Hook didn’t seem like someone who would... take advantage of him.

 

Perceptor let his head drop against the Constructicon’s shoulder. He wasn’t feeling strong enough to do anything else. Hook just held him against his chest, never moving, just looking at him with an undefinable expression.

 

It was relaxing to be here... Not safe, because it was still a Decepticon holding him, but he wasn’t feeling so afraid anymore.

 

“You didn’t have any orders, did you?” he asked after a while.

“Does it matter?” Answered Hook evenly.

 

Perceptor thought for a while. Sure, he was in better shape now, but for how long?

 

“...I don’t know,” he finally answered.

“Hum, I bet those aren’t words you’re used to saying.”

“No, not really. But I doubt there is a single individual in the universe who never say them.”

“Probably,” agreed the Constructicon, letting one of his hand stroke the Autobot.

 

He felt him tense under the touch but wasn’t surprised Perceptor did so. He hadn’t expected anything else, not after the whole ordeal he had gone through with the Stunticons.

 

Too bad. He could have merged with him right here, without caring about whoever would see them, if the Autobot hadn’t been so... well, broken.

 

A shame, trully. Perceptor was a brillant mind, one of the few Hook felt was worth more than a glance. And he was rather gorgeous when one looked carefully enough...

 

He sincerely doubted Motormaster and his cohort had chosen him for esthetics reasons or the need to control someone who was clearly superior to them on the intellignece level; more likely, they had simply wanted to torture any Autobot they came across, and the microscope had been the one unlucky enough to ‘meet’ them first.

 

A small noise made him turn his gaze toward the Autobot’s face.

 

Perceptor was offline, almost snuggling against him for comfort. He looked peaceful like that. It was... far too sweet for him, but it didn’t meant he wasn’t enjoying the view.

 

Such a pretty face... It was dangerous in time of war. Sure, Decepticons in general condamned forced merging, or ‘rape’ as humans called that, but that didn’t meant some soldiers never forced themself on someone, ally or ennemy.

 

It was also a way to 'interrogate' a prisonner like any other. Of course, the victim was mercifuly deactivate soon after, when they had obtained the informations. Best to do so than let them live with the trauma sometimes...

 

Or perhaps not so mercifuly, after all; some did kill off the captives just for fun and in such a way it was impossible to use the spare parts gained for anything.

 

The prettier you were, the more chances you had to become a victim. The only way to not be bothered was to be strong enough to rip off the head of your assailant or to be of a high rank.

 

Being part of a gestalt worked too. You didn’t want to see five angry mechs going after you if you touched one of their own. Too bad some people missed the memo...

 

Reluctanctly letting go of Perceptor, who he put on the floor carefully, Hook left the cell after a last glance. Too bad the scientist was an Autobot. He probably wouldn’t survive the war, even if he survived his captivity.

 

Hook stopped walking when he came across someone he hadn’t expected to see. Leaning against a wall, arms folded against his chest, Scrapper looked at him with disapproval.

 

“I should say something...” began the Constructicon’s leader.

“But you will not, like you never said anything when Scavenger started seeing that Autobot Grapple,” completed Hook.

 

Scrapper shook his head. Sometimes, his team-mates choices in regard of their love lives were truly amazing or disconcerting. At least, he had thought so at first.

 

But each of them liked intelligents; those skilled in construction or sciences. Whether mechs or femmes wasn’t their main concern on the matter, but they wanted someone with who they could speak on a equal level.

 

And it wasn’t exactly like they had a lot of choice in the Decepticons ranks.

 

The very few Decepticons Scientists worth a second glance were all on Cybertron, and most of them were truly unattractive in the end. Most of the good looking ones were either autobots or dead... or both.

 

As for trying something new... There was no way they tried anything with any of those maniacs on board! Especially not after seeing what exactly the Stunticons idea of fun was, or after what Vortex had tried to do to Hook...

 

Scrapper supposed he could understand and forgive them for choosing an Autobot. Thruthfully, even he had to admit that Perceptor wasn’t too bad looking...

 

Still, he wouldn’t be good for any of them if the High Command found out about that, and more because it was an habit than because he trully believed so, Scrapper pointed out:

 

“You play a dangerous game, Hook.”

“Don’t we all?” he answered, shrugging before continuing on his way, never looking back.

 

Scrapper threw a look toward the cell in which the Autobot prisonner was held. He just hoped nobody would come down here to see him before his automatic repair system kicked in.

 

He didn’t know how he would be able to explain himself or his team-mate if the repairs were noticed.

 

Well...he would see when the moment came.

 

Shrugging, he turned back and left the brig; he still had projects to complete, after all.