HOME | DD

Description
It had seemed like a routine mission enough, but Hot Spot couldn't help being a little extra on edge. Chase two Combaticons, Onslaught and Brawl, out of the city's limits with the help of the Aerialbots. At the time, the other half of Bruticus were unaccounted for, and the Combaticon leader and the tank were acting unusually passive. Not a single human casualty was recorded during the entire event.

Now looking back, Hot Spot knew he'd been right to feel the unease creeping up his backstrut. Onslaught and Brawl had led his team into the countryside on a chase dotted with light weapon fire. Just as he thought everything was working in their favor a little too easily, Hot Spot had been hit from above. The blast knocked him off the road and he just barely caught the silhouette of a shuttle pulling out of a dive as he rolled.

Hot Spot transformed, ignoring the sting from the blast and immediately calling for the location of each of his brothers. Blades was engaging Vortex who had appeared along with Blast Off, and Groove and Streetwise were handling the shuttle and Brawl. First Aid was by his side in an instant and Hot Spot realized he had been the only one injured so far. He could hear Onslaught's wheels spinning on dirt not far away and he saw the Combaticon making a hard turn back for the two of them.

Hot Spot ran from First Aid before the medic could protest, determined to keep Onslaught's sights on himself only. He transformed back into vehicle mode and drove straight ahead.

Onslaught barreled into him, hitting with enough force to throw Hot Spot back several yards. Hot Spot landed on his side and transformed immediately. He tried to reach for his gun.

"Stop."

Onslaught was faster. The Combaticon leader now stood above him, his rifle pointed at Hot Spot. The Autobot let his hand fall from his weapon's subspace pocket, silently glaring at the other. Warning signs flashed across his vision, telling him that his damage was worse than he thought. So maybe rushing the Combaticon head on hadn't been the best idea, but at least First Aid was a good distance away from Onslaught.

"Hot Spot!"

Slag it.

First Aid stopped short of the two leaders. Onslaught ignored him and spoke directly to his rival. "I have something to offer you." Hot Spot didn't respond, choosing instead to save any energy he had left for his repair systems. Onslaught continued. "I want Swindle back. I do not expect you to hand him over easily, so in exchange I'm willing to provide you with Galvatron's upcoming battle plans."

A confused flicker went over Hot Spot's optics, but the Combaticon caught it and answered his question for him. "If you haven't yet noticed, Galvatron is slipping deeper and deeper into insanity. I will not risk my team's well being front-lining random raids that have little to almost nothing to gain as far as improving our miserable state of affairs."

"You're rebelling," Hot Spot managed to ground out.

"Yes, at least against the current hierarchy in place anyway. And the Combaticons are not the only group with the same thing in mind. I'm offering you a great advantage in overpowering Galvatron once and for all, Autobot. Give me Swindle, and we will leave."

This time, First Aid asked Hot Spot's next question, "Leave where?"

"Far enough away that you will not be bothered by us for a time," Onslaught answered calmly. "I have other plans to attend to rather than continuing to fight on a losing side."

Hot Spot narrowed his optics. "And if the Autobots refuse?"

Onslaught's visor darkened as he stared at First Aid for a moment. He then turned his gaze menacingly at the Protectobot leader once more. "Then I will have to come into your safe and secure base and drag Swindle out myself. And let me remind you, Hot Spot, my aim is far more accurate than Galvatron's."

-

After a not so pleasant day happening already, Hot Spot didn't expect the meeting with the higher ups to go so well. But he soon found out that at least Prime was willing to agree a little bit on his side.

"I understand your concern for your teammates, Hot Spot," Rodimus stated. "I do believe our prisoner has outlasted his welcome here. If there could be a peaceful exchange, I'm willing to try to make that work."

Ultra Magnus looked on, unconvinced. "Can Onslaught be trusted? He may just be luring us. How can we be sure we're not just repairing a Decepticon gestalt for future attacks against us. We have an advantage here, even with just one enemy combiner disabled."

"Sir, I have to believe Onslaught is being truthful on at least some level," Hot Spot tried to choose his words carefully. It was hard to deal others whom never shared a gestalt link. "I can understand his need to get a team member back."

Rodimus Prime looked to Ultra Magnus. "And if he is willing to give up future battle plans, it would benefit us all the better."

"It's the reason why he seems so willing to give up Galvatron's plans so easily that has me worried," Magnus said, looking directly at Hot Spot. "He said he would be going where, exactly?"

Hot Spot shook his head. "He never mentioned a location. He only stated that he has 'other plans'."

"Which could not be anything good for us, coming from someone who's rebelled against Megatron more than once," Ultra Magnus said grimly.

"Still," Prime spoke up again, "If the Combaticons are going to abandon Galvatron for a while, it would put a dent in his forces. They and the Predacons are the most utilized combiners in his attacks."

"He said there would be others as well," Hot Spot remembered the painful incident. "From what it sounds like, Galvatron isn't very popular among the elder Decepticon forces."

"We can only hope that is indeed the case," Prime said, looking to Ultra Magnus. "What do you say, old friend? Perhaps we should arrange for a prisoner transfer."

Ultra Magnus stared firmly at the Protectobot leader, still a bit unconvinced. "Perhaps. Get Onslaught to hand over his battle plans first."

Hot Spot nodded, understanding. He just had no idea how to make that happen.

-

Things returned to business as usual the next day. Which made Swindle glad, since even after just one, he doubted he could stand another visit from Sideswipe. Being under the mercy of a life-long rival was just degrading. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if Smokescreen had shown up...

Though, Swindle could sense that First Aid was not his usual self when he walked up to the cell. The medic was oddly quiet while he gave his greetings and the happy glint that was normally held in his optics was lacking. Swindle decided to pry a little.

"So, where were you yesterday? I was surprised when you didn't show up." Swindle added a friendly smile while he spoke, trying to make it look and sound like it was a good-natured enough question.

"I got called out," First Aid said softly. Swindle began to think he'd have to try to get him to elaborate further but First Aid looked him hard in the optics. "Onslaught is looking for you. He wants you returned in exchange for future attack plans. "

Inside, Swindle felt a pang of hope.

First Aid glanced at the floor and Swindle caught the shadow that crossed his face. "I think Hot Spot and the higher-ups are considering his offer." For a moment, the medic appeared guilty, as if he wasn't supposed to be telling Swindle this information.

"You think they're really going to let me go." It was a statement, not a question, and Swindle knew it was true because First Aid looked at him again with pleading optics.

"I know this may seem selfish and unrealistic, but I felt it was...important for me to ask you to stay."

Swindle stared at him. He thought he should be laughing in the Protectobot's face for even thinking such a thing, but he didn't feel it would be...right. "Do you even know what you're asking me to do?" he said softly.

"Yes, and that's why I know you won't," First Aid answered sadly. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. I should never have mentioned anything at all, but..." He got stuck on his words again. His optics were locked intently onto Swindle's as if searching for something. "I want to be friends with you, Swindle. I know you're not like the other Decepticons...I could help you..."

"How could you know anything about me?" Even though he tried not to, Swindle knew he growled at him. "How could you know what the others are like? I've only known you for a week at most. You can't just accept me without doing the same for my brothers!"

First Aid cast his optics to floor, ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Now Swindle had to force himself to calm down. "I'm just a part of one whole, Aid. You know that. You're exactly the same."

"I just don't want to see you keep suffering."

"What are you talking about?" Swindle knew there was something else hidden under that statement.

First Aid looked at him sternly. "I've monitored you during recharge. You exhibit signs of major trauma in your sleep. I believe it may have to do with your past imprisonment."

Swindle was silent.

"I should have told you sooner. But I believe there may be a way to help you, with the right therapies and treatments. And your brothers. They must be showing the same signs as you."

Swindle didn't know what to say. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. I know that what you went through had to be painful. You should never have gone through that."

"We did what we had to," Swindle whispered angrily, mostly to himself. That voice though. Swindle knew he shouldn't, couldn't be angry at a voice that sounded so caring. Still, the darkness that tried to swallow him in recharge attempted to make itself known now.

"I'm sorry, Swindle."

First Aid tried hard not to flinch as his back met the wall. Swindle pinned his arms to his side, holding him in place. Swindle's face was close to his, his optics burning. "Don't say that," he ground out. His voice was harder than usual. "You can't know, you will never understand. You can't be my friend!"

The sudden attack surprised him. He knew Swindle was still stronger than him, he was a Decepticon, but First Aid couldn't help but notice how Swindle held his weight on only one leg. The medic knew if things got worse, he could kick out and knock the other off balance, but he sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Swindle..." First Aid started. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize! We completed our mission, we did what we had to!" Swindle raised his voice more, but it was hardly a shout. First Aid heard the Combaticon's voice falter. "You weren't there...you don't know any of it." For a moment Swindle's head dropped and First Aid could no longer see his face as he continued, nearly choking his words this time. "You'll never know..."

"Swindle," First Aid tried again, but this time only saying his name. Swindle brought his gaze back up, and First Aid could tell he was fighting with himself as he stared at him. The grip on First Aid's arms loosened, and Swindle took a step back. First Aid freed himself from the wall, but he made no other movement.

Neither of them moved or spoke. First Aid wasn't sure how long he remained still, but he knew that small instant felt much longer than it actually lasted.

"Sorry," Swindle whispered. First Aid held in the relieved sigh that wanted to escape him, even though he knew Swindle had finally relaxed. The Combaticon tried to look him in the optic but seemed to be having trouble keeping his gaze still.

"I didn't...hurt you, did I?"

First Aid wondered why that question seemed to make the Combaticon look so uncomfortable. "I'm alright," he answered softly. "I'm worried about you, Swindle."

Swindle turned from him and hobbled back to the berth. He sat with his back leaned against the wall. "I just need to be left alone right now."

It seemed First Aid would oblige him, as he turned and walked out the cell, the door-lock clicking into place unusually loud. Swindle let himself go limp, letting gravity take over and falling on his side on the berth. Onslaught was coming for him. That thought alone made the last tendrils of darkness disappear from his aching cpu. If what First Aid said was true, he wouldn't have to be here much longer.

But...

He turned on his back, running his hands over his face. What is going on with me!

Description
It had seemed like a routine mission enough, but Hot Spot couldn't help being a little extra on edge. Chase two Combaticons, Onslaught and Brawl, out of the city's limits with the help of the Aerialbots. At the time, the other half of Bruticus were unaccounted for, and the Combaticon leader and the tank were acting unusually passive. Not a single human casualty was recorded during the entire event.

Now looking back, Hot Spot knew he'd been right to feel the unease creeping up his backstrut. Onslaught and Brawl had led his team into the countryside on a chase dotted with light weapon fire. Just as he thought everything was working in their favor a little too easily, Hot Spot had been hit from above. The blast knocked him off the road and he just barely caught the silhouette of a shuttle pulling out of a dive as he rolled.

Hot Spot transformed, ignoring the sting from the blast and immediately calling for the location of each of his brothers. Blades was engaging Vortex who had appeared along with Blast Off, and Groove and Streetwise were handling the shuttle and Brawl. First Aid was by his side in an instant and Hot Spot realized he had been the only one injured so far. He could hear Onslaught's wheels spinning on dirt not far away and he saw the Combaticon making a hard turn back for the two of them.

Hot Spot ran from First Aid before the medic could protest, determined to keep Onslaught's sights on himself only. He transformed back into vehicle mode and drove straight ahead.

Onslaught barreled into him, hitting with enough force to throw Hot Spot back several yards. Hot Spot landed on his side and transformed immediately. He tried to reach for his gun.

"Stop."

Onslaught was faster. The Combaticon leader now stood above him, his rifle pointed at Hot Spot. The Autobot let his hand fall from his weapon's subspace pocket, silently glaring at the other. Warning signs flashed across his vision, telling him that his damage was worse than he thought. So maybe rushing the Combaticon head on hadn't been the best idea, but at least First Aid was a good distance away from Onslaught.

"Hot Spot!"

Slag it.

First Aid stopped short of the two leaders. Onslaught ignored him and spoke directly to his rival. "I have something to offer you." Hot Spot didn't respond, choosing instead to save any energy he had left for his repair systems. Onslaught continued. "I want Swindle back. I do not expect you to hand him over easily, so in exchange I'm willing to provide you with Galvatron's upcoming battle plans."

A confused flicker went over Hot Spot's optics, but the Combaticon caught it and answered his question for him. "If you haven't yet noticed, Galvatron is slipping deeper and deeper into insanity. I will not risk my team's well being front-lining random raids that have little to almost nothing to gain as far as improving our miserable state of affairs."

"You're rebelling," Hot Spot managed to ground out.

"Yes, at least against the current hierarchy in place anyway. And the Combaticons are not the only group with the same thing in mind. I'm offering you a great advantage in overpowering Galvatron once and for all, Autobot. Give me Swindle, and we will leave."

This time, First Aid asked Hot Spot's next question, "Leave where?"

"Far enough away that you will not be bothered by us for a time," Onslaught answered calmly. "I have other plans to attend to rather than continuing to fight on a losing side."

Hot Spot narrowed his optics. "And if the Autobots refuse?"

Onslaught's visor darkened as he stared at First Aid for a moment. He then turned his gaze menacingly at the Protectobot leader once more. "Then I will have to come into your safe and secure base and drag Swindle out myself. And let me remind you, Hot Spot, my aim is far more accurate than Galvatron's."

-

After a not so pleasant day happening already, Hot Spot didn't expect the meeting with the higher ups to go so well. But he soon found out that at least Prime was willing to agree a little bit on his side.

"I understand your concern for your teammates, Hot Spot," Rodimus stated. "I do believe our prisoner has outlasted his welcome here. If there could be a peaceful exchange, I'm willing to try to make that work."

Ultra Magnus looked on, unconvinced. "Can Onslaught be trusted? He may just be luring us. How can we be sure we're not just repairing a Decepticon gestalt for future attacks against us. We have an advantage here, even with just one enemy combiner disabled."

"Sir, I have to believe Onslaught is being truthful on at least some level," Hot Spot tried to choose his words carefully. It was hard to deal others whom never shared a gestalt link. "I can understand his need to get a team member back."

Rodimus Prime looked to Ultra Magnus. "And if he is willing to give up future battle plans, it would benefit us all the better."

"It's the reason why he seems so willing to give up Galvatron's plans so easily that has me worried," Magnus said, looking directly at Hot Spot. "He said he would be going where, exactly?"

Hot Spot shook his head. "He never mentioned a location. He only stated that he has 'other plans'."

"Which could not be anything good for us, coming from someone who's rebelled against Megatron more than once," Ultra Magnus said grimly.

"Still," Prime spoke up again, "If the Combaticons are going to abandon Galvatron for a while, it would put a dent in his forces. They and the Predacons are the most utilized combiners in his attacks."

"He said there would be others as well," Hot Spot remembered the painful incident. "From what it sounds like, Galvatron isn't very popular among the elder Decepticon forces."

"We can only hope that is indeed the case," Prime said, looking to Ultra Magnus. "What do you say, old friend? Perhaps we should arrange for a prisoner transfer."

Ultra Magnus stared firmly at the Protectobot leader, still a bit unconvinced. "Perhaps. Get Onslaught to hand over his battle plans first."

Hot Spot nodded, understanding. He just had no idea how to make that happen.

-

Things returned to business as usual the next day. Which made Swindle glad, since even after just one, he doubted he could stand another visit from Sideswipe. Being under the mercy of a life-long rival was just degrading. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if Smokescreen had shown up...

Though, Swindle could sense that First Aid was not his usual self when he walked up to the cell. The medic was oddly quiet while he gave his greetings and the happy glint that was normally held in his optics was lacking. Swindle decided to pry a little.

"So, where were you yesterday? I was surprised when you didn't show up." Swindle added a friendly smile while he spoke, trying to make it look and sound like it was a good-natured enough question.

"I got called out," First Aid said softly. Swindle began to think he'd have to try to get him to elaborate further but First Aid looked him hard in the optics. "Onslaught is looking for you. He wants you returned in exchange for future attack plans. "

Inside, Swindle felt a pang of hope.

First Aid glanced at the floor and Swindle caught the shadow that crossed his face. "I think Hot Spot and the higher-ups are considering his offer." For a moment, the medic appeared guilty, as if he wasn't supposed to be telling Swindle this information.

"You think they're really going to let me go." It was a statement, not a question, and Swindle knew it was true because First Aid looked at him again with pleading optics.

"I know this may seem selfish and unrealistic, but I felt it was...important for me to ask you to stay."

Swindle stared at him. He thought he should be laughing in the Protectobot's face for even thinking such a thing, but he didn't feel it would be...right. "Do you even know what you're asking me to do?" he said softly.

"Yes, and that's why I know you won't," First Aid answered sadly. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. I should never have mentioned anything at all, but..." He got stuck on his words again. His optics were locked intently onto Swindle's as if searching for something. "I want to be friends with you, Swindle. I know you're not like the other Decepticons...I could help you..."

"How could you know anything about me?" Even though he tried not to, Swindle knew he growled at him. "How could you know what the others are like? I've only known you for a week at most. You can't just accept me without doing the same for my brothers!"

First Aid cast his optics to floor, ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Now Swindle had to force himself to calm down. "I'm just a part of one whole, Aid. You know that. You're exactly the same."

"I just don't want to see you keep suffering."

"What are you talking about?" Swindle knew there was something else hidden under that statement.

First Aid looked at him sternly. "I've monitored you during recharge. You exhibit signs of major trauma in your sleep. I believe it may have to do with your past imprisonment."

Swindle was silent.

"I should have told you sooner. But I believe there may be a way to help you, with the right therapies and treatments. And your brothers. They must be showing the same signs as you."

Swindle didn't know what to say. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. I know that what you went through had to be painful. You should never have gone through that."

"We did what we had to," Swindle whispered angrily, mostly to himself. That voice though. Swindle knew he shouldn't, couldn't be angry at a voice that sounded so caring. Still, the darkness that tried to swallow him in recharge attempted to make itself known now.

"I'm sorry, Swindle."

First Aid tried hard not to flinch as his back met the wall. Swindle pinned his arms to his side, holding him in place. Swindle's face was close to his, his optics burning. "Don't say that," he ground out. His voice was harder than usual. "You can't know, you will never understand. You can't be my friend!"

The sudden attack surprised him. He knew Swindle was still stronger than him, he was a Decepticon, but First Aid couldn't help but notice how Swindle held his weight on only one leg. The medic knew if things got worse, he could kick out and knock the other off balance, but he sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Swindle..." First Aid started. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize! We completed our mission, we did what we had to!" Swindle raised his voice more, but it was hardly a shout. First Aid heard the Combaticon's voice falter. "You weren't there...you don't know any of it." For a moment Swindle's head dropped and First Aid could no longer see his face as he continued, nearly choking his words this time. "You'll never know..."

"Swindle," First Aid tried again, but this time only saying his name. Swindle brought his gaze back up, and First Aid could tell he was fighting with himself as he stared at him. The grip on First Aid's arms loosened, and Swindle took a step back. First Aid freed himself from the wall, but he made no other movement.

Neither of them moved or spoke. First Aid wasn't sure how long he remained still, but he knew that small instant felt much longer than it actually lasted.

"Sorry," Swindle whispered. First Aid held in the relieved sigh that wanted to escape him, even though he knew Swindle had finally relaxed. The Combaticon tried to look him in the optic but seemed to be having trouble keeping his gaze still.

"I didn't...hurt you, did I?"

First Aid wondered why that question seemed to make the Combaticon look so uncomfortable. "I'm alright," he answered softly. "I'm worried about you, Swindle."

Swindle turned from him and hobbled back to the berth. He sat with his back leaned against the wall. "I just need to be left alone right now."

It seemed First Aid would oblige him, as he turned and walked out the cell, the door-lock clicking into place unusually loud. Swindle let himself go limp, letting gravity take over and falling on his side on the berth. Onslaught was coming for him. That thought alone made the last tendrils of darkness disappear from his aching cpu. If what First Aid said was true, he wouldn't have to be here much longer.

But...

He turned on his back, running his hands over his face. What is going on with me!