Chapter Text
Screaming.
It was nothing but screams.
The Autotrooper stationed at the Trypicon Prison, going by the Patrol Unit name Mock Alert, ran far from cell block D-63, where some of the more 'out of control' Cons were kept in reinforced cells. They were among the strongest, that not even Megatron could break through if he was place in such a cell.
But this was different. The prisoner they brought in wasn't Megatron, nor any Con they have that was famously known. This Con was known by how violent he gets with his victims. Some say that when you meet this Con, he seemed willing, almost sophisticated, like he never had a violent streak in his life.
It was all an act.
That's what makes him so dangerous.
Mock Alert trips when he collided with a small security bot that was panicking due to the blaring alarms ringing across the prison.
He was scared, terrified even! This new Con easily killed half of his unit and is still going. The weirder part of this was that he wasn't releasing any Cons that he passed. In face, the ones that were in the same cell block as him cowered in fear whenever he slowly passed in their view, like they didn't want to be seen or have him turn his attention to them.
They know who he is!
Mock Alert felt his frame being so tense that his joints were creaking loudly. He tried to stay calm, but fight or flight kicked in and the latter kicked into overdrive. Plus, with what he witness, keeping calm wasn't an option. Some screams stopped, but new ones followed after. He needed to get to the control center. He needed to comm Depth Charge. He can send some backup, some stronger bots to deal with this!
The Autotrooper violently turned around each corner, even eating the wall pretty hard with some uncalculated turns. He eventually saw the big blast doors to the control room, hope rising in his circuits. He just needs to get a message out, just one. And he hopes it would be enough to get a response and get a team of skilled Autobots out here.
Those doors swing open, and when he got inside he immediately closed them, punching in a lock passcode for those doors to be completely sealed. They might hold, but he didn't know anything about the Con that was running loose. After going over to the big computer, he tried getting it on, trying several codes to get security access.
Unbeknownst to him, the middle seam of the doors was slowly but brutally being opened, a single glowing red eye peering into the formed hole, full of malicious glee.
"Come on! Come on! I-yes!" One of the codes finally gave him access, opening up a comm channel between him and the TransTech Division. But the signal was weak, very weak as his end only heard garbled static.
"This is-zzzzzrkt! -of the-zzzrkt!-what is the-zzzrkt!-"
He didn't have time for the signal to get better, it was now or never.
"TransTech! This is Mock Alert, Autotrooper in Trypticon Prison! I need backup! A Con has escaped their cell and is running rampant! It's a slaughter here! Please send-"
Two big clawed servos gripped each side of his head, the sharp points digging into the protective metal. Mock Alert immediately brought his hands up to pull away at the servos, pain filling his processor when he felt his helm being squeezed. He took noticed that despite the servos were covered heavily with fresh energon from the recent victims, it felt like his helm was in a iron gripped trap.
"So...you ran for help, eh~?"
The Con spoke with eerie calmness, like this was a normal thing for him.
"Hmm, that won't do. Can't have strangers taking my prey just yet?"
The pressure in his helm increased. It felt unbearable, like it was filling with fluid and it had nowhere to go. Like a congestion, it made him feel ill. He heard a crack and it came from his visor across his eyes. It felt tiny shards hit the protective layer of his optics.
"But let's face the facts...." The voice sounded closer in his audio receptors.
"You bore me."
The pressure on his helm stop and the grip on his helm loosened, but it was still there. For a moment, Mock Alert figured the Con was letting him go out of boredom, but a new sudden pressure hit him and it wasn't going inward...but outward.
The Con was pulling his helm apart.
A scream tore through his throat as the pain he felt went beyond the threshold. He felt metal tear and laughter, energon flowed and scraping metal against metal. And with one hard, tug from the Con, he ripped the poor Autotrooper's head in half, fresh energon splashed on both the console and the Con, making him look deranged. The processor module hung from one end of the torn helm limply, lights flickering before diminishing completely.
The Con looked pleased, noting how clean he tore the head apart. With the brute strength he possessed, ripping the head would always end up messy, but this one ended up being a clean kill.
He looked at his hands, both completely covered in energon, and it was starting to become sticky. He leaned in and started licking them clean, the sweet, metallic taste hitting his glossa like sprinkled silver. But the best part of all of this was the Autotrooper's fear. His fear fed his very being, it was orgasmic. It was the thrill, to see the life fading by your very hands. The Con loved it.
His servos weren't clean. but it'll have to do. He can clean them later. He looked up at the computer before him, an idea forming that he hadn't thought of before he started chasing the poor bot.
He went over and typed in some keywords and codes he remembered a long time ago, back when he still hung out with annoying and over-excited Bots. He hummed in satisfaction when data of a mech popped up-a black and red Autobot with a cynical look, adorned with neon green spoiler and headlights.
"My, how you changed..." He brought his servo on the screen and lightly dragged it across the image. "But you look even more appetizing~"
And then he dug his clawed digits into the screen, breaking the glass and tiny sparks flung out, escaping from exposed wires underneath. He retracted his hand back from the damaged computer and turned to leave, adding softly as he faded back into the darkness.
"See you again soon, my little toy~"
BEEP!
The alarm was immediately turned off.
Sideswipe got ready for the same routine for the day. He looked at the time with groggy optics from the dim light: 05:30. Great. He would have enough time to get polished up and ready in less than two groons.
As he got up, he made sure to stretch, getting rid of the stiffness and creaks aching in his joints, especially his neck joint. Mornings like these weren't always rough, but he remembered the times where they were really rough, to the point where he didn't want to get out of bed and wanted to just offline. He was thankful to Rodimus Prime for getting his some therapy, it was nice to vent to someone you weren't close to, but he was always wary of exposing everything so he gave only minor issues. Not that he didn't trust Rung with his internal issues, but some habits are hard to get rid off.
Sideswipe doesn't take long with polishing. In his young youth, he would complain for even the tiniest of scratches. Now, with his line of work, he just does a quick clean and gets out with whatever datapads he needed. He was living in a very small apartment unit, as he was saving up to buy that energon farm that he had his optics on for a while. It was quiet, away from the bustling of the Iacon city, and he could have his own energon supply. He should go by Swerve's and see if he can get that barbot a supply of those energon sticks he loved.
At this time on Cybertron, not a lot of Bots were up and about. Bots who have work mostly have the afternoon work, meaning they can sleep in or get ready for the noon shift if possible. Sideswipe didn't have that luxury, then again, he couldn't. He had a routine and if he broke it-that was something he can't afford to do, not after the promise he made to himself on that tragic day.
That day changed his life and if he could go back in time to change it, he would without an ounce of hesitation. And on that same day, he decided to throw away his old life, going so far as to get a new paint job and a new helm design. He needed a change to his helm anyways, as it was badly damaged after the fight with-
He shook his head. No, that was the past, this is my future now. He needs to get a move on, otherwise, the station is gonna be asking questions, some might even try to comm him. He transformed and took down the road at the proper speed limit. Because it was still the early groons of the morning, very little traffic, and the sol hasn't risen from the edges of Cybertron yet. Though Sideswipe never minded seeing the streetlights guide his way to his destination.
By the time he gotten there, the sol was already peaking, the streetlights automatically shut off at the first rays of light. Sideswipe transformed back into his robot mode and casually strolled inside, where there were already Autotroopers in the building.
"Morning, Major."
"Rook."
"Good morning, sir."
"Stake Out."
"Sideswipe Major."
"Fido."
"Have a good morning, Major."
"Cruiser."
"Mornin'!"
"Spinner."
It was the usual greetings, and Sideswipe responded in kind with their assigned patrol unit names. The CPDC was formed primarily of Autotroopers, but any Autobot could join if they have the skills to become part of the force. In a couple of orbital cycles, they will be gaining new recruits. What fun.
Sideswipe went over to the break room area where he opened a cabinet that has his registered designation on it and pulled out one of his prized possessions: a blue mug with a yellow Kremzeek design on it. It was already showing wear. Nobody knows why he specifically drinks from only that mug, but they know that the Major gets REALLY defensive if anyone decides to touch it or use it themselves when they can't find their own.
Sideswipe poured his portion of hot energon into the mug, and retreated to his office. He got his own office after working so hard among the ranks of the CPDC. But...it wasn't just him that owned that office before.
He sat down on his chair, leaning back against it, the mug warming his servo even though he was holding it by the handle. He took a swing, the hot stinging sensation on his glossa didn't bother him. He had deeper wounds that hurt more than just the temporary burn.
He sets his mug down on his desk and, as if he was on autopilot, he forms a fist and holds it out, like he was waiting for a fist bump from someone. "'Ready to make a difference?' 'Why yes, Sideswipe! We'll be making a huge difference, a chance to change the tension between Autobots and Decepticons! If we work hard today, we'll be a step closer to that goal, and we can finally have peace!' Yeah, sure.......ya punk." He leaned back with a heavy sigh. This was one of those moments where he talked to himself. It isn't exactly healthy, but it was healthier for him, to get it out of his system. It's a reason why he retreats to his office. He didn't want the others to find it weird and freak them out.
He looks over at a picture frame on the wall to his left: it showed of a primarily young red and black mech with an equally young blue and white femme, both smiling and proudly presenting their new ranks.
"But I know someone that would be pretty pissed if I don't keep going. So, I guess I'll go one more day. what do you say, Str-"
"Major, you have a visitor."
The little intercom on his desk buzzed to life with the voice of the receptionist. He almost wanted to scowl. Everybody in the station, including the receptionist, knows that this was his morning routine, and that he was not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. Though he can't imagine getting called from the front desk counted as such.
He kept calm and pressed the answer button. "I'm in the middle of my morning routine. Can't it wait?"
"I'm sorry, Major, but...it really can't."
He sighs. "I'll be there in a minute."
Great. Just great. He was really hoping he could get some quiet time before anything kicked off, but it looks like Primus wasn't on his side today.
"Hey, look who got off his lazy aft!"
"Can't believe it was you who called me, kid." Sideswipe stared at the familiar yellow and green kitty bot with the obnoxious grin.
Cheetor.
The mech hasn't seen the kid for a while now, not after the two of them took down the Stunticons together, along with additional help from Optimus Prime himself. When they managed to report the capture, Cheetor was allowed back to the TransTech Division back in Kaon city. Basically, he was given one more chance to redeem himself. If he was back here....
Please don't tell me you did something stupid, kid!
"Well...there was a reason. Depth Charge asked me to get ya. Says that there is a big problem going on and he needs your help."
Sideswipe blinked. Depth Charge needed him? For what? Sure, Kaon was a former Decepticon city-state (with the biggest number of crime waves known to anybot), but when the Autobots got it back, crimes have gone significantly down with the extra security and stricter ruling. So it didn't make sense why an old friend of his wanted his help in Kaon. Depth Charge was the chief of the TransTech Division over in Kaon, meaning he had the best of the best Autobots embedded with the best experimental tech, like Cheetor.
"Why me specifically?"
"Don't know. He didn't tell me much, just said to go get you and bring you back to Kaon. He said he will explain it to you."
Depth Charge, a bot with a few words. "Alright, fine. Might as well. Haven't seen that aft in a long time."
"Did you two go way back or something?"
"Not exactly. He was way younger than me when we met. Had an attitude, but I had a more...nastier one. Put him in his place and I gained his respect, apparently. He holds me in high regard, despite telling him I don't want it."
Cheetor tilted his head, and it made the Major shake his head. "It's just old history. Forget about it. Let's just go before I start getting older by the nanoklik."
"Aren't you old enough already~?"
"Shut up, kid."