Flashback - The Remembrance Ballad (Closed)

[Deleted]

Everything in Rook tightened once again as that talon all but caressed him, light as a breeze. The Insecticon was carrying the message of their relationship, all unspoken, in the most minimal and powerful of ways.

And then the pain set in.

Rook shifted involuntarily in the restraints, jerking back and up in the most meager of ways as immediate instinct barked at him to get away from the pain. He couldn't go anywhere, obviously, and even if he did the damage was done. The acid etched a line to remind him of where her talon had passed; the unspoken message, now writ large on his sensors as the white-hot burn settled into a dull, steady monotone of minor pain.

There's a lot that can be done to a frame with 'minor pain'.

Almost immediately he regretted his lack of self-control. The sudden strain on his shoulders had forced another sensor to overload and go directly into a checkup from which, under the current conditions, it was not going to come back.

Some part of his mind noted the fact she was entirely unbothered by the acid, which was a whole bag of weird and unpleasant prospects he did not want to think on, and could not avoid thinking on. Another part marked the care with which anything important had been avoided by that whisper-light touch.

These were still just the introductions. Not the time to lie, then; not just yet.

He heard a grinding sound, and realized it was his vox. Venting slow (even if decidedly shaky) from most of his vents, he forcibly relaxed... well, as much as he could. No time to lie, but what meager, very meager kernels of truth he did have, would have to be parceled out very carefully. Oh, so carefully.

"I might have found a cracked window or two. But that's not... the kind of thing you admit too. Being a peeper, that just rude. And they weren't the kind that broke easy, either. I swear, I did not get in."

[Deleted]

"I might have found a cracked window or two. But that's not... the kind of thing you admit too. Being a peeper, that just rude. And they weren't the kind that broke easy, either. I swear, I did not get in."

Airachnid resisted the urge to bare her sharp, dainty fangs at him. These were not the answers she wanted! And not getting her way was starting to make her feel very cross. She could care less where he may have stashed a few more incendiaries. They weren't likely to do much damage at this point and if they hadn't gone off by now, they weren't going to. He would have used them as a diversion to escape being caught. Honestly, higher ranking mechs were so terribly stupid.

What she wanted, no, needed from the Autobot was to admit he had been in the restricted zone. All she needed was one chance to grant her access into the site, without having to wait for proper clearance. The bureaucracy took too long to process. But if they truly believed there was a bomb hidden in there by this mech...

"I don't think your memory is quite sharp enough. Clearly, I have been remiss in pressing the severity of my needs upon you." Without warning, without so much as the whisper of tension in her frame, one of the segmented legs curling around her frame stabbed for Rook's side. Given his suspended position, Airachnid needn't have to worry about his ability to dodge the incoming attack. Just in case, however, she was careful not to stab into anything too vital. She didn't want a dead captive, after all.

"Now, tell me again about this broken window..."

[Deleted]

There was no warning to the attack, no telltale to her frame to warn Rook of the pain to come. It was simply and suddenly there, as inescapable as the beat of his spark.

There was no room for anything else. Not her questions. Not thoughts of truth and lies, no plans or strategies, because there was a whole lot of talon stuck into him, where it did not belong. The average mech would have tried to get away, there would have been all sorts of twitch responses from a frame that had been so thoroughly invaded.

Rook held as perfectly still as he could. He could hear a harsh, wordless sound coming from his vox; he let it. His arms were shaking, he could distantly hear the rattling oft he chains; he ignored it.

Pain'll come. Pain'll always come. Second tool of the job.Thresher had spoken to his students usually from the dark so they'd focus (so he'd said) solely on his voice. And you gotta learn, you gotta remember, it ain't about being brave. It ain't about looking brave. It's only, always, about keeping what you've got behind your optics right back there. Don't you waste no energy trying to be tough, or act tough, or look tough. Save it for what matters. Save it for keeping your secrets.

He had. to be. still. Every motion, however tiny, was going to run its own wealth of systemic damage reports and draw away Rook's attention. Every little twitch was going to send that talon dancing where it already had no place being. Besides, he suspected, the Insecticon was going to be doing plenty of wriggling of her own.

You never taught me what to say when I don't have anything to say, he thought wryly. The mech had been a fantastic trainer, Rook would admit. He looked like something out of a smelting pit nightmare, but he'd been peerless at his third job, likely courtesy of the second.

That was the problem, wasn't it? He had nothing to say to the Insecticon. He had not gotten in, ill-prepared and ill-advised as he'd been in attempting that second coup - which said something for giving advice to himself. He'd gawked through a lot of windows, ducked a lot of falling debris, seen a whole lot of nothing. She was not going to believe that. She wanted him to say something, and Rook was beginning to think she wanted him to say anything. Which might tie in with his suspicions that she was using him to find out info she did not have access to.

Or they might not know about the first (and far more successful) half of his endeavors. Or they might know all about them. Or she just might not give a damn. Or he could have gone down an entirely erroneous line of thought somewhere.

He just didn't know. However, she'd suddenly left him with very little to lose. Anything he said, she'd have to confirm in some fashion. If he said the right thing, she might leave him to do the confirming on her own, but that was an awfully big if.

Slowly the pain settled. It was still a white hot, intruding, offensive thing against his side, but the surprise that had come with it faded into the background. Rook's voice was strained into an impolite, harsh tone. "I didn't get... in the buildings." He let air hiss in, then out, of his vents, trying to soothe the brief heat spike the attack had rushed through his systems. "Bombardment, though... opened up the street to the power conduits under it..."

He was bluffing. To be perfectly honest, he was lying: the streets had been broken up, but he'd never stopped to see what they'd brought to the surface. Rook, however, preferred to think of it as offering the truth in entirely separate little pieces. If a frame went and put them together incorrectly, why, he really couldn't be blamed for it, could he?

"'s amazing, what a mech can do... when he finds an open power coupling... and he's got a timer or three on his person, don't you think?"

[Deleted]

"'s amazing, what a mech can do... when he finds an open power coupling... and he's got a timer or three on his person, don't you think?"

Finally!

Just when she was starting to question the usefulness of the Bot, he finally spilled some useful information. He could be lying, in fact, more than not he was lying to stop her from injuring him further. Which was foolish. (His fate was sealed the moment he was caught behind enemy lines.) But the gentle art of shepherding an answer out of someone allowed for some room to lie. She didn't need the truth from him now.

No, he'd just given her the opportunity to get where she wanted. Rank would give way with the threat of sabotage. And if there was nothing to be found, well, desperate mechs would say anything. He would pay for his words when she returned..after a thorough look around the restricted zone. There was no flaw with her scheme.

"I'm glad you decided to play along." With one final, excruciating caress of her spindly leg, Airachnid ripped the appendage from his side and gave it a dainty flick. The spray of his fluid colored the floor and wall as she straightened away from him and called to the guards. "We must make haste. There has been a threat."

Giving the Autobot one last, lingering look, she stepped away from him and headed for the exit. "We will continue our conversation when I return. Until then, I would rest."

[Deleted]

Rook's frame snapped to attention helplessly as the talon was yanked back, and another uncontrolled, harsh sound escaped his vocalizer. For a long, measureless moment he hung there, head lolling down, and all he could do was watch uncomprehendingly the damage reports scrolling by his optics. He was dimly aware that nothing was flashing red, but little else sunk in.

And just like that...

She's leaving.

Rook's head came up slowly. She was leaving. The Insecticon was leaving, walking away without so much as a backwards glance. She was talking to the guards, heading for the door, making a promise he was very much afraid she'd be delighted to keep.

Rook didn't care. All he cared about was the dim hallway's light as the door to his cell closed between him and her. All that mattered was that he be left...

Alone. He was alone. He had been left with nothing but the feeling of his fluid rolling down his side, a bad wound but not lethal. He shrugged in the chains; three relays along his shoulders failed to respond and the pain in his side rose back like an angry tide. Rook drew in air steadily through half his vents, and twisted with slow, measured care - the pain was not going anywhere and he'd have to learn to move and work through it, because bypassing the area was just too risky: any sharp motion and a bad wound might turn considerably worse while unwatched.

By the time he was done he was swinging slightly on the chain, and a plan had formed in his mind. It was thready, barely there, dependent on way too many what-ifs, but given the alternative, Rook would take it. He began to swing himself more firmly, keeping an optic on the spot where the door to his cell was; his arc was a little high, maybe...

Well, Vehicons were usually on the tall side. This was going to hurt, but a guard would not come unless the racket was worth it. And he could snap a neck just as well with his legs as with his hands.

He did wish he'd left a present for the Insecticon, if only because she was going to check on a nonexistent bomb and it would have been lovely to surprise her otherwise. He wished, also, that she'd asked him about the booby-traps he had[/i] laid out, because he honestly wasn't sure how much time had passed, and whether they'd gone off or not yet. When you're looking to smash yourself into a wall just so the ruckus will bring you company, you can afford to wish for very many, many things. The Vehicon that did, eventually, came to check on what the slag the prisoner was doing to make such a noise, could wish for his spark not to be extinguished, for example. But wishing doesn't always give you what you ask for.

When Rook ghosted out of the cell he was bleeding somewhat more miserably than he'd have liked, and he had a sharp, jaggedly broken piece from the Vehicon's armor in one hand. He turned briefly to look at the frame - glitch hadn't even locked the door behind him when he'd come in to check on him. Someone around these parts was awful new at their job. He hoped it was the Insecticon; he hoped like Pit that someone decided she was incompetent and moved her to something else, anything else. Because if given the chance she would prove she was anything but.

He rolled the improvised weapon over his fingers and glanced down the corridor. He didn't know where he was, how deeply in enemy territory or how surrounded he might be. But he was loose, and as far as he was concerned that was a damn good start. Now to work on getting as far away from the Insecticon as the war, the planet and the universe allowed. He did remember to lock the door to the cell, for appearance's sake, before he slipped away.

"Thanks for the shank."

[Deleted]

Just as she'd flawlessly initiated, Airachnid was led into the restricted zone under a flag of security breach. No secrets were kept from her cunning guile and she'd managed to secure plenty of data for her own to decipher later. She had no grandiose plans, yet, for all the trouble she'd put everyone through just to take a peek where her sub-ranking self was not allowed. But it never hurt to plan ahead.

As expected, on her part, there were no explosives hidden beyond the red line and she'd had to shoulder the blame for being duped. Yes, how could she fall for such a lie and so easily? Shameful on her part. She was still new, you see, and he had been so convincing. Surely if they had looked a little longer, perhaps they would surely find something...

The walk back to holding cell was an ambivalent one for her. The appendages on her back twitched and curled around her frame as she hummed to herself. Everything was going her way and she had managed to fool the idiots who held rank over her. Which was pitiful. She'd have to do something about that before their stupidity got her killed.

At the end of the hall the cell door looked the same as ever and Airachnid would have kept walking if the smell hadn't bothered her. Something was off. The stench of fluids lay delicately on the air, just subtle enough to be missed if one weren't of mind to look for it. She paused, talons curling slowly while she focused all of her senses around her.

She'd left the prisoner injured but not dying. He would have lasted for several cycles even with a sluggish bleed out. This scent suggested a massive wound beyond those doors. And the guard was missing. Which wasn't entirely suspicious. Once in awhile the guards got bored and an unattended prisoner was left to their mercy. It was a tedious violence that Airachnid didn't have the patience for. Why invest the time in hurting someone when there was no point? She could invest hours trying out new toxins on someone, be they enemy or not, but there was a reason she used her precious time to torture a victim. There was always a reason! That's why it was an art!

Huffing to herself, she stalked for the door. There was no way of knowing what lay beyond the barrier unless she flung it open. Tension settling into her frame like a familiar drug, she keyed the entry to the cell and waited for the door to open. What lay at her feet caused a small cry to leave her vox.

The prisoner was gone!

Oh, right, and the guard was dead too.

The prisoner! She wasn't finished with him! And judging by the cooling pool of fluids, he was long gone by now. She stomped a delicate foot in ire. Now what the slag was she going to tell her ranking officers?

"Clearly this is the guards fault." With a dainty sniff, she kicked the body with enough force to flip it over. Ah...so that's how he'd dispatched the guard. Good to know for when she found the Autobot once more. "We'll just have to arrange our play date for another time, Rook."

But for now she had this mess to metaphorically clean up.

-Fin-