Flashback - Leaving Velocitron - Closed

[Deleted]

Shiftlock laid down on the floor of the transport shuttle. It was all over. It was all finally over.

She lifted a hand from her right side; it was slick and bright with energon, a slow but steady leak. She had to find a patch kit or she'd be empty long before she reached her destination. All the transports had an emergency medical kit stashed somewhere aboard them; it was just a matter of getting to them.

In a few astroclicks, she told herself. I can hold on for just a few astroclicks. Then I'll get the patch kit. I'm just running cold... Need to recharge so bad... Everything's all fuzzy....

*SLAM*

She pulled her fist away from the floor, trying to get to servos and knees. No. Can't shut down yet. Patch first, then you can recharge as long as you want, she told herself. You shut down for a little rest now and you won't come back online. Slowly, shuffling in little steps, tired and worn down, she began the steady search for the emergency kit.

All the while she was trying to stuff down her grief. Ignore it. Trying not to think about it. There was nothing but blinding rage and pain to go with those memories, and she was doing her best to try to just force them out of her processes.

And yet, no matter how she tried, it kept coming back on her. She'd lost recruits and friends and comrades over the vorns, but this time it hurt far worse. She'd looked after those three as if they were sparked from her own frame. They had come to rely on her, look up to her, depend on her. She'd always trained recruits before, but she had never allowed herself to get attached. You couldn't afford to get too bonded to another Wrecker. You'd just end up broken-sparked at the end of the day when they came home gunmetal gray.

The patch kit had been under the pilot's seat the whole time. She grimmaced, annoyed that she'd not noticed it before. If it had been a bomb it would have killed her.

Clutch Kick.
Feint.
Dirt Drop.

She wanted to carve their names into the chassis of some Decepticon's still leaking remains... but there was nothing to take out her rage on anymore.

She was alone.

Her fingers fumbled with the kit as exhaustion started to creep in around her optics. She didn't know how much longer she could keep aware at this rate. Fortunately the ratty old transport had an autopilot and the course had already been set. Trying to pilot in her present condition would have been an exercise in futility.

"Sure could use a medic about now," she mumbled wearily to herself as she applied the patch in a mostly correct fashion. Waiting a few microns she tested it. It would hold. The leak was stopped. It was the best she could do.

The yawning black chasm of space spread out before her, lulling her into giving up her last tentative holds on consciousness. She could rest now. She could let go for how ever long it took her systems to get themselves configured again. Closing her optics, Shiftlock slouched back into the pilot's chair, and with a groan, her mental processes tumbled into a sleep-mode.

[Deleted]

** An unspecified number of Vorns before... **

"Wakey wakey."

Everything was blurry and out of focus. Shiftlock struggled to force her optics to align. The light above was bright, painfully so, and in front of her she could make out a handful of darkly colored forms. Someone else? They hadn't taken that last big jump into the well of All Sparks?

She was suddenly aware that her arms were twisted behind her and she was slouching forward on her knees - plasma bindings! Energon suddenly surged through her with the realization that she had been captured; she immediately jerked forward to try to free herself. No good - the bindings were tighter than she could break free of. They strengthened the more she pulled, threatening to pinch off her servos as they tightened around her wrist in direct relation to how hard she struggled.

"Looks like she's coming around, Ransack."

"Good, Breach. I'd hate to think we'd lost our most valuable trophy."

"What do we do with the other three?" the one apparently named Breach asked.

"Have you finished interrogating them?" "Ransack" asked in return. Shiftlock searched her memory files... wasn't he someone on that racing planet?

"Coldstart's still working on them, but they aren't talking. Trying to torture Wreckers is like trying to nail oil to the wall. I think we're wasting time," 'Breach' grunted.

"Give them to Ruiner. If they don't have anything worthwhile to tell me, put them in the demolition pits. I want Override to see what's going to happen to her if she doesn't surrender. And tell Megatron we're taking care of these Wreckers for him. Maybe it'll jog his memory and he'll send us some support!" Ransack snarled.

"What about her?"

Shiftlock tried to raise her head to get a good look at her captors.

"Unlike the others, she actually looks race-worthy. I want to see how fast she can go. Get her to the track."

[Deleted]

(OOC: Background music: ShutEmDown - Celldweller.)

Ruiner turned out to be one of the greasiest Cybertronians Shiftlock ever had the displeasure of knowing. Extremely aerodynamic, his black, gray and violet alt form looked more like a finned turbine on wheels; there was no question in Shiftlock's mind she'd only have enough time to register his tire gauge before he'd already lapped her. Yet it wasn't the speed of his vehicle mode that concerned her. It was everything else that was attached to his frame: Spikes. Blades. Plasma-cutters. Bumping up against him in a race, especially at the speeds Velocitronians enjoyed, would mean a near instant spark-snuffing.

But that wasn't the definitive reason Shiftlock had come to loathe him.

He was going to be her "pit crew" - medic - for as long as she could stay alive.

"You know," Ruiner purred, rolling up to the start line next to the caged gate in which Shiftlock was trapped, "When they said you were a femme, I expected something completely different.... Wreckers being the legendary tough-mechs they are, I thought you'd be some plug-ugly wide-load tanker that would make the back end of a refuse truck look good. Imagine my surprise when I laid optics on you." His glyphs fairly oozed lust-anticipation. "I am sincerely going to enjoy tuning you up after this is over, if you survive. My detailing is... exceptionally thorough."

Shiftlock had gotten used to this sort of seedy come-on. There seemed to be something about her occupation that just charged up certain mechs, especially Decepticon ones. It was always about conquest with them; she presented a very real threat of being offlined, and only made them hungrier to try to humble her. "Get slagged. You're just another loop-jockey trying to impress me with the size of the bearings he doesn't have."

Ruiner's engine roared loudly for a half-klick. "Oh you have a mouth on you," he hissed, showing a dangerous streak of ill-temper, "I should have expected that as well. I was considering taking it easy on you, but now? Now my dear, it's going to hurt."

The lights were dropping down from the ceiling of the closed, tube-shaped testing track. There would be no easy escape - the only way to finish was to either win or to complete the race in most of one piece. Kept in vehicle mode by a hack to her t-cog done during stasis lock, she would have to drive or die, and with no offensive capabilities other than her own armor and frame, it would all come down to a matter of skill. Her task was simple:

If you get separated, make finding your team mates your first priority.

She would have to race, to survive, to endure. The others were counting on her.

[Deleted]

Red

Yellow.

GREEN.

The gate snapped down in front of Shiftlock and the restraints on her wheels transformed down into the floor of the silver-blue track, freeing her instantly. Ruiner took off in a streak of black, already running hot and ready to go. Shift's estimation of his speed was not in the least bit wrong.

Fortunately, she had underestimated her own.

Engine snarling as it cranked into gear, Shiftlock sped free of the cage, which transformed back down into the floor, returning the testing tunnel to unblemished racing perfection. Directional lighting and a tightbeamed HUD display of the two racers in proximity to one another popped up on Shiftlock's optical scanners.

What idiots, she thought to herself. They're actually SHOWING me where Ruiner is!

The warm yellow glow of the internal track lights were beginning to flash past Shift faster and faster as she rapidly picked up speed. She spared herself an astrosecond to appreciate the perfection of the track; everything was geared to optimal speed performance. Something deep in her spark sang, recalling the thrill of speeding through Cybertron's undertunnels, finding new shortcuts and blasting through traffic on the Iacon speedway during her days as a courier. She savored the sensation, then quickly put it out of her processing. Focus, Shiftlock. You're not supposed to be having fun.

Oh slag it, she thought, changing her mind. Enjoy yourself. Dirt Drop would be thrilled if he could see you now.

Ruiner was already quickly coming up in her rear view. The tunnel was a simple loop for speed tests; if it came down to a zero-to-sixty sprint he'd already be the victor and the race would be over already. It wasn't. That meant this little test run was for something else entirely, and it wasn't hard to guess what.

"Ruiner," Shiftlock stated with dangerous calm, "I'm about to get red as a tail light. If you think that locking me in vehicle form is gonna make me a safe turbofox to hunt, you are about to see how wrong you and your gasketless cohorts are."

Ruiner laughed. "Pretty tough talk for someone who can't even break the sound barrier--"

Shiftlock had already flicked completely around, tires screaming across the smooth metal track and filling the tunnel behind her in acrid smoke as she blasted backwards towards Ruiner. Cut off in mid-brag and startled he swerved to the left; Shiftlock oversteered, sliding halfway up the curved wall of the tunnel before plunging headlights first into one of the few bare spots on Ruiner's frame - his back wheels. As he struggled to regain control of his direction, inertia trying to pull him into a spiral along the walls of the tunnel he slowed down automatically - enough time for the low slung, heavily reinforced bumper of Shiftlock to connect solidly. Wheel lock set in immediately and Ruiner slid up the wall, aft over headlights, leaving a trail of gouged metal, paint chips and broken track lights as his own speed corkscrewed him down the track, tumbling and spinning through the smoke Shiftlock left behind.

Front end wrinkled and dirtied with half-liquefied super-heated tire, Shiftlock shut off her lights and drove herself into the dark and smoke. She wasn't done yet. She wasn't done with Ruiner until she'd crushed him under her tires. Overlocking had already overtaken her and clouded her optics with a hydraulic-red tint.

[Deleted]

Ransack's optics reflected the images on the viewscreen before him. Ruiner was injured but not in stasis lock. The upstart Wrecker was, despite being hobbled in vehicle mode, moving in for a kill.

"Looks like a candidate for the Demos," Coldstart mused offhandedly, attending other business. The cool-headed engineer and logistics specialist was flipping through entries on a datapad in one hand, barely paying attention to the race, or Ruiner's angry howls of pain through the communication system to the control room.

"Pity she's not fast enough for Missile squadron," Ransack sighed dismissively. "Did you finish converting the qualifying prisoners?"

"Seven of ten qualified and Breach is overseeing the explosive installation. We're gearing them down just enough that we aren't wasting good parts or energon," Coldstart replied.

"How did the cog-locks and neurosiphon installation go?" Ransack then asked, watching the show below, interest starting to wane.

"Perfectly this time. The prisoners can only think of their targets and feel an overwhelming urge to rush to them. Funny what happens when the brainbox is energon-deprived like that."

Ransack smirked. "Good. Send them on the way and recycle the losers. And..." he paused, tapping his chin. "... Send the insignias of the recycled Wreckers to Override. I want her to know that her little Autobot rescue squad isn't coming."

He turned to leave. "Oh, and make sure Ruiner gets out of the test track in one piece, would you? Good interrogators don't come along every vorn."

[Deleted]

Shiftlock's motor rumbled through the dark and the smoke. She wanted Ruiner dead, and she was prepared to find some way to destroy him despite her condition. She planned it out in nanokliks as she inched forward, waiting, paying attention to the HUD still on her display. He was getting back up, headed towards her position, moving much slower now. She could hear him cursing loudly - either he was unafraid or overconfident, as he was making no effort to hide his presence.

Knock him over, onto his back. His drivetrain and undercarriage were unprotected, she'd seen it. Ram into his underside until everything crumpled and broke. Spin tires over vital fuel lines. Force his spikes to stick into the wall, and keep ramming into him until he broke...

Cursing suddenly turned into laughter. Shiftlock revved her engine and sped towards him - let the slaughter begin!

!!! - A sudden JERK! - and Shiftlock was stuck in place. Metal boots clamped onto her still squealing, smoking tires, she lurched suddenly and stopped, lights flashing back on in startled surprise. The floor - she'd forgotten about the slagging cage in the floor! She should have expected it, but the anger, the killing intensity that had overclocked her circuits had blinded her to the obvious. It was a stupid mistake, the kind she'd have expected a rookie to make. She cursed herself inwardly for that moment of indulgence. She knew she'd pay for it now - maybe with her spark.

Ruiner marched through the smoke, still dripping energon, half his upper torso shredded open, his right arm mauled and hanging loosely from the rotator cuff. He swiftly kicked Shiftlock's front bumper, smashing in a headlight, and followed with a hammer blow to the roof of her vehicle mode, cratering it. Windshield and window glass flew in all directions.

"That was a NASTY little trick you pulled, glitch," he snarled, glyphing intentions best left undescribed. "But I am very pleased that you tried. Femmes aren't much fun if they don't fight." He grabbed hold of her bumper, pulling her up, starting to separate shocks from the still caught tires. "From now on, Wrecker, you belong to ME, and I will use you however I see fit. Since you like to run into things, you're going into my stable of demolition derby contestants. If you do well and bring in winnings, things will go well for you. If you throw matches or fail to fight...." A twisted grin spread over his broken, energon-stained lips. "... I'll extract the sparks of your crew in front of your very eyes."

[Deleted]

***

It continued.

The recollection of nightmare persisted through Shiftlock's stasis lock. Her tortured processes began to at last defrag, the waste data never fully purged during her enslavement - all part of the process of keeping her off-guard, humbled, beaten down. Shattered fragments of pain tumbled through her consciousness, some twisting into unreal, unrecognizable horrors, others brought back to crystal clarity, replaying themselves over and over and over like a stuck surveillance video.


Breaking her internal chronometer. Keeping her underground. Preventing her from ever knowing how long time had passed.

Long stretches of time held suspended in black silence.

The brutal fights for survival, stuck in vehicle mode, forced to crush the willing and the unwilling. The screaming, cheering spectators waging on her survival. The sickening crunch of vital components under her tires. The spray of fresh energon across her hood and windshield.

Long stretches of "repairs" under Ruiner's servos. Forced body modifications. Multiple, repeated violations of her very spark. Scars left as brands across her body, showing off her kills and her status as 'property'.


And then, one cycle, it happened.

She saw them.

She saw the unmistakable parts of her crew, scattered among and inserted into the still living frames of the Velocitronian Decepticons.

And everything in her unhinged. Everything after that was a red haze of death wails, smashing, crunching, tearing, chewing, and endless retribution upon the guilty and the innocent in an orgiastic trail of carnage from the arena to a lone cargo ship. She no longer felt pain. She no longer felt joy. She no longer FELT.

****

"This is Optimus Prime. To all surviving Autobots who hear this message: I ask you to join me in a remote corner of the galaxy, on a small planet, rich with energon. I have reason to believe that this world will soon become a new target of Decepticon conquest. Our team is small, but strong. Join me at these coordinates, so that we might plan our resistance. Safe journies."

Shiftlock closed her optics.

Time to go.