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Part 17 of Transgressions verse
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2023-09-10
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2025-01-11
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3/?
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Reparations

Summary:

Even though he successfully finished his trial, and he's back in his old position, things aren't sitting right with Blackout. He still feels like he owes Ironhide and Nitro Zeus. Reparations may need to be paid.

Set in the Transgressions verse after specific events, so might not make sense if you haven't read it.

Chapter 1: Blackout

Chapter Text

"Your coding is niggling you to show appeasement to your superiors for your insubordination, isn't it? To make reparations for causing trouble, and show how sorry you are for behaving inappropriately."

Dreadbot's words — a twist of his own reasoning for a punishment he enjoyed immensely to dole out — delivered with a knowing smirk, and an optical ridge quirked in challenge to dare contradict him, are as annoying now as when they were uttered.

Blackout punches his pillow three times in frustration, then he grabs it and presses it over his helm to shut any noise out, even though the room is quiet, and the noise is inside his own processor. He sighs deeply, knowing full well that recharge won't claim him anytime soon. Again.

The little bastard is right. 

At the time, he denied it — and he still would do so if Dreadbot asked again — but the comment did throw him for a very unpleasant loop when it felt like Dreadbot hit a button he hadn't known was there until it was purposefully pushed without hesitation. He's pretty sure that Dreadbot noticed his startled reaction, but at least the smaller mech didn't comment on that detail when he laid out a scenario Blackout would quite happily bleach from his processors. Then the thought has festered, and it takes up far too much of his time, but still, he's reluctant to erase the memory of Dreadbot's suggestion for some reason.

Some reason that suspiciously resembles that the mech was right, that he isn't as free from the ways the military fucked him up as he'd like to think.

Even more strange is the fact that the night of very unpleasant fucking brought him a new respect for Dreadbot. As much as he disliked everything they did, the little mech was blunt and honest with knowing full well how much Blackout would hate it no matter what, and that he wasn't above being an opportunistic sadist, much like Blackout himself has always been. They way Dreadbot chose what to do was logical — and as much as he hated everything about it — and the mech somehow managed to make it feel like paying reparations and not like a punishment.

The part about Dreadbot saying that he was certain that Nitro and Hide wouldn't make it a punishment either, even though Dreadbot thought that they probably should — because he's protective as frag of those he hold dear, and can hold a grudge like no tomorrow — has taken root in Blackout's processes.

The thought of trying to supplicate his Brothers for forgiveness for what he did irks him, because what is the need to do that if not a remnant of his coding to follow his Masters' every command? But at the same time, hasn't he sworn allegiance to his unit more times than he can count, loyalty above and beyond anything the military ever intended them to feel for each other? And wasn't he the one who turned on his own Brothers? It could be argued that the ease with which he did so is a sign of breaking the coding that he was created with, but if this increasingly strong need to appease his superiors is still clawing at him, it really looks like the wrong part of the coding was broken.

He really did miss his Brothers when he left the house, more than he could ever imagine. And even though everyone have been nice and welcoming enough since he got back, seemingly willing to cross out what happened and carry on, he still feels like he isn't fully back, and truly forgiven. Or maybe that's just his coding trying to persuade him to pay it back by letting them take whatever they want out of his plating. Like a good little slave should.

Blackout makes a face, quickly turning over on his back, the pillow landing somewhere off to the side.

He never wanted his superiors to fuck him or whip him — never felt the urge to pay them anything, because they were always so quick to take it from him at the slightest chance to do so — but he had to let them all the same. Then he hasn't needed to let anything like that happen since he got out of the army — not up until this damned trial. Well, he got through the trial, because it needed to be done. He doesn't like the thought of Nitro Zeus and Ironhide fucking him — or beating him in any fashion, though that might be marginally preferable — but he has gotten through unpleasantness before when unpleasantness needed to be lived through, and if it could set things right with his damned coding? Then it simply needs to be done.

And he's so fucking tired of this tossing and turning that's the new normal for him at night. Not that he ever was a heavy sleeper, or needed much recharge to get by, but this is really starting to get to him.

Blackout inhales deeply to try to prepare himself for whatever is about to happen, then he opens a comm to Ironhide.

::We need to talk.::

Chapter 2: Blackout

Chapter Text

The door to Ironhide's room slides open for him, and Blackout cautiously steps inside, glancing around. Not that he thinks that Ironhide would let someone hide in a corner to eavesdrop, but the entire situation has him on edge.

"What can I do for you at this hour, Brother?" Ironhide asks, leaning his aft against his desk. If he's annoyed with a meeting request in the middle of the night, he doesn't show it.

"I..." Blackout starts, then he stops, because he doesn't really know how to word it. He averts his optics from Hide's, staring at the floor as he sinks to his knees, planting his aft on his heels. "My coding... I need to make it up to you. My betrayal, turning on my superiors." He gets out.

"You came back. You already submitted by offering me an opportunity to easily kill you, and you've agreed to the conditions for returning. I'm only your superior because I was elected president, I'm not like our owners were."

"I know, but my coding won't settle for that..." Call him malfunctioning if you will.

Ironhide is quiet for long moments. "Oh." The mech shifts. "So what will your coding settle for?"

"You need to make me pay for it." Blackout says quietly.

Ironhide is quiet for a while again, his field churning. "And I'm guessing that it won't do with weekly debt collections at your door..."

"No." Blackout is instinctually certain of it. Why would such a neat solution work, why would it be that easy? 

"Did you ever feel like this about our owners?" Ironhide asks quietly

Blackout looks up at his Brother. "No. But then I never got a chance to attack them before we broke free of them. And as you know, they always made me pay dearly for my transgressions far too fast for me to have time to think much about it."

"I know, Brother, I know. I was just hoping to find a way around it. I don't want to have to go there, but if this is really bothering you, we need to find a solution, of course..."

Blackout's helm whips around when the door slides open. It's Nitro, the Flier carrying a bottle of high grade and three cubes.

"Deep middle of the night conversations are always best had over high grade."  He stops, taking in Blackout's pose on the floor. "Where do you want your cube?" He asks, leaving it up to Blackout to remain where he is, or taking a seat if he wants to. He hands one cube to Ironhide, pouring a serving as Ironhide holds it, giving Blackout time to decide.

Blackout gets up, opting for the armchair. It feels more neutral than sitting on the berth — he doesn't really want to think about where this is going to lead, and the berth might very well be part of that. He holds the cube while Nitro serves him high grade, then watches as Nitro pours himself a cube, before sitting down on the berth. Blackout's optics get stuck on the berth for a moment, and when he looks back at Nitro, the jet quirks an optical ridge, but it isn't a leer or a challenge, just a question. Blackout still looks away.

"I thought you had broken that coding..." Ironhide says. "You could fight back the compulsion, couldn't you?"

"Yeah, I could resist an order, and — as we established — they always made me pay for it quickly enough to never make this issue come up. I would've fought... this if it had ever happened too, would've fought it for the rest of my functioning or until I broke it, but now... I'm fucking tired of it, I just want it to be over with. I see no point in fighting it when it's you. And I am sorry for my overreaction."

"Could it work if I order you to not see our chain of command as rigidly?" Ironhide muses.

"I don't know."

"Blackout, I order you to not be indebted to us just because of the chain of command." Ironhide says sternly.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

There's a complete lack of compulsion and the unsettling feeling of needing to appease Ironhide flares even more, because why do Ironhide even need to order him around, he should know how to do the right thing without being told.

What?!

Blackout desperately wants his pillow, so he kan bury his helm under it again.

How fucked up is his fucking coding?!

"It didn't work."

Chapter 3: Ironhide

Chapter Text

The rational part of him understands very well how parts of Blackout's coding could demand such a thing even to this day. Understanding doesn't make it less distasteful to know what he might need to do to help his Brother.

He really didn't sign up for this.

Discovering a new, and unexpected way that Blackout still isn't quite free of the influence of how they were expected to live — and die — is terrible enough in itself, but that it looks like it'll force him to act like those bastards just to solve the situation... No matter how much Blackout asks for it, he'll still need to go against his own nature.

"I'm not sure where this will land if we go through with it. I know your coding has decided that we're superior enough to demand you to pay us back, but it'll go against the part of my coding that says I should protect my Unit. And you are Unit. My coding doesn't recognize you as a subordinate. I don't know what it would do to me."

Said out loud, it sounds cowardly, like he's out to protect his own plating — and maybe he is, because he sure as all pit isn't keen on putting his servos on Blackout in any way just to get back at him — but on the other servo, his concerns feel valid; if changes in dynamic is the catalyst for resurgence of old coding that he thought was buried, this could be the starting point for more problems.

"You did say that you wanted to beat me to within an inch of my functioning..." Blackout says.

"I did, and at that point, I would've if Nitro hadn't done such a great job of it. But that was in the moment, and it had nothing to do with rank. I just wanted to protect my lover when he was vulnerable." He looks at Nitro, and the Jet is trying not to grin. "Guess he wasn't so vulnerable." Ironhide adds ruefully. "The point is that it was a right then thing. You've done what was asked of you to come back, I have absolutely no need to punish you further."

"Nitro?" Blackout sounds slightly agitated when he turns towards the Jet. "Would you do it?"

"I'd rather not." Nitro glances at him before continuing. "I agree with Hide; I have no idea what kind of impact it would have on me. That said, I completely understand your dilemma. Residual coding is no joke, and I'm not willing to just let you suffer indefinitely from this." The Jet shudders. "But I certainly don't want to whip you. It's not my thing."

Blackout takes a deep swig from his drink. "Imagine the day when I'm asking for an old school punishment." He mutters.

"So what are the parameters for the... event?" Ironhide asks, hoping that there's no need for Blackout to intensely dislike what they're doing. Maybe they can make him deep clean their rooms or something like that, if it's just some sort of physical action that's needed.

Blackout looks thoughtful, then he makes a face. "You'll have to either take your payment from my frame, or hurt me enough to make me never want to do that again. Which isn't quite logical, considering I already don't want to do it again."

"So, can we do funishments?" Nitro says, waggling his optical ridge.

Ironhide can't help his optic roll, it's reflexive at this point.

"What?" Blackout asks, looking confused.

"Nothing." Nitro waves it away. "The reason why I'm such a terrible bot." He adds with a leer, quirking his optical ridge meaningfully at Ironhide. 

And wasn't it a wild ride when they started exploring that kink of Nitro's? Thank all the deities for Dreadbot.

"Actually, it's not that bad of an idea. Do you have to hate it for it to be efficient?" Ironhide asks Blackout. Blackout would find no fun in that type of punishment, so maybe it will do, without him being forced to either damage his Brother, or — which would be even worse — to use interfacing as punishment.

"I don't know. I don't think so?"

"Then I might have an idea."

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