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There was no escaping this one. Bumblebee already knew that.
So, he got caught, big whoop. He’d escaped before. Plenty of others did too. Decepticon containment units were weak, fortified cheaply or hastily, sometimes both, and therefore easy to get out of. Decepticon guards were poorly trained, easily outwitted, and a breeze to sneak past. He’d gotten out before so what’s stopping him from doing it again?
Prowl wasn’t happy to hear the reports on the Cons’ upgraded security systems. Reinforced cells, stasis cuffs, and prisons. Integrated sensors and scanners to monitor POWs. Microphones set to record the moment they hear the tiniest peep. Cameras that stream directly to Soundwave when they detect motion.
Of course, lower-level soldiers weren’t usually held in cells decked out with this much high-tech stuff. Cells like those were reserved for VIPs, aka Very Important Prisoners. Ones they intended to squeeze information out of or who they knew they could use as hostages.
It was a damn shame that Bumblebee knew so much. There he was, captured, held in a fancy new cell, and running through each way that he could escape and how it might go wrong.
He wasn’t the only one who got caught, but he was the only one in this cell block. It was likely that he was the only one who could make it out and call for help. They depended on him.
Naturally, as he was taught how to do, he escaped.
But then he got caught again. And again. And again.
Jazz had drilled into every scout and spy and recon officer’s helm that if they were captured or recaptured and transferred more than once to alternate locations, their chance of rescue would plummet to almost nothing.
His chance of rescue was 0.0375%.
He wasn’t making it out of here.
Worse yet, for the past who-knows-how-many solar cycles, or orbital cycles, or slag even full cycles, he’d been getting interrogated pretty regularly. Not kindly either, he’d like to add.
Name, rank, ID, commanding officer. That was all he was permitted to share, and Bumblebee was nothing if not a perfect (okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch) soldier. Even if he wasn’t perfect (though he was humble enough to recognize this), he was loyal to a fault. But it wasn’t a fault! Loyalty and dedication were important above all else and those two qualities were what protected Autobot intel and knowledge from the Decepticons.
His interrogators got nothing from him, but he got plenty from them.
His comms were deactivated the nanoklik he was captured, obviously, along with his weapon systems. But his chronometer and navigation units were damaged within a few solar cycles of questioning. After that came the tying of his fuel lines which cut his efficiency in half even after they reopened the lines. They tried various forms of sensory deprivation, disabling his optics, audials, and even his voicebox for periods of time. His senses were all back, but whoever reattached his audial receptors didn’t do it quite right. Every so often, at random times and for random durations, he’d hear nothing but silence.
Bumblebee could handle it. He was trained to withstand every interrogation tactic the Cons could think up. He was POW trained and could survive under pressure. He wasn’t getting out but he wasn’t giving in either. The Autobots depended on him.
But then Bumblebee’s guard let some information slip that he probably wasn’t supposed to. Bee was simultaneously thankful and horrified to learn it. His mission to make sure that his information stayed exactly that—his—was compromised.
Shockwave was coming. In an orbital cycle, the mad scientist of the Decepticons would arrive to administer a cortical psychic patch to Bee and there was nothing he could do to stop him from stealing every single thing he knew about the Autobot cause.
The Autobots couldn’t depend on him now.
Frag it all, what was he supposed to do now? No one could withstand a cortical psychic patch. Perceptor and Red Alert tried to emulate a CSP so Jazz’s soldiers could train to resist them, but the system kept failing and the mechs connected to it all wound up with short-term amnesia. Wheeljack also took a crack at imitating a CSP with similar (to put it gently) results. Long story short, the Autobots had no protection against Shockwave’s cortical psychic patches.
He would take what he wanted from Bee’s mind and Bee would have no other choice but to oblige. He would learn every secret, every schematic, every code, every attack pattern, every anything that Bumblebee had ever known and use it to wipe out the Autobots. It was a damn shame that Bumblebee knew so much.
Bee couldn’t let Shockwave into his processor. He had to be gone before the scientist showed up otherwise the Decepticons would have no trouble forcing him into the procedure. Honestly, he should have known that it would come to this. They could stop wasting their time and supplies trying to get him to talk and get it done with or without his consent.
That was it then. Bumblebee had to die.
…
26 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
I’m not sure where I am or how long I’ve been here, and I wish that were the result of having too much high grade (which, of course, I’ve never done! You know me, Optimus. Responsible as the cycle is long). At least the room service mech is easy on the optics. When I get back I’d like to request a week of leave. Do you think Elita would approve that?
Anyway, I caught wind that Shockwave is going to be paying me a visit in an orbital cycle or so. Their tactics haven’t been working. You’d all be so proud of me (I hope. Please tell me that you’re proud). But once Shockwave gets here, I won’t be able to stop the CSP from happening. I’m sorry Optimus, but I can’t won’t let you down.
End Log]
“Chow time!” the guard hollered as he slid the cube of energon through the small window to Bee’s side of the cell.
The energon glowed dully, and Bumblebee knew just by looking at it that it was ration grade, the most basic, bland, and disgusting mixture meant to keep up a soldier's strength without worrying about useless things like appearance or flavor. It’s what he was most often served, receiving premium grade only when some Decepticon officers tried to sway him to their side with promises of a high rank and luxurious quarters. Their generosity didn’t last long. That was about three transfers ago.
Bee picked up the sad, little cube and looked around his cell. Yesterday (anytime his chronometer was interrupted in questioning, he had to reset it. Time was all relative anyway), he got the news of his impending doom. He didn’t have much time to work with before he unwillingly betrayed everyone he cared about. The guards did say that until Shockwave showed up, no further interrogations would be performed. There was no point. So, his timekeeping would be reliable until the end.
The cell he currently resided in was rather small, with a short platform serving as a berth and sturdy bars blocking his way out. No cameras or fancy things in here. This one was old. There was a small drain in one corner of the room, leading Bee to think that this prison was underground somewhere, so that if there was ever flooding, it could flush itself. No cell he’d been in on any of the warships (he could always tell when they were in motion) had drains, and the couple of times that he performed rescues on-planet at above-ground facilities, those cells didn’t have drains.
Well, at least he had one here.
The energon dribbled through the grate with ease, and Bumblebee wished that he were a droplet of it so that he could float away without a care in the world.
…
20 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
i rememember the pow training and this feels just it only worse. tell ironhide that his methods are harsh and mean and entirely accuracte.
End Log]
His helm ached and his limbs felt numb. His intake was dry and his internals felt like everything was coated in sludge. This was taking too long.
His processor worked at far below its usual speed but he knew that he was close to fully starving his systems and clearing out his tubes. It hurt to get up. It hurt to sit down. His joints grinded in their casings and his plating had lost its luster. He felt sick all the time, but there was nothing to be sick with, and the helmache that came as a result of the nonstop energon level warnings only exacerbated the feeling.
“Chow time!” the guard called. Right on schedule, as always.
Bee padded over to the window to pick up his energon so he could dump it out, but noticed that the guard hadn’t left yet.
“Can I help you?” Bee asked skeptically.
The guard shrugged. “Meds are coming back that your energon levels are dropping too fast. Higher-ups decided to monitor you.”
“I’ve got med scanners on me?”
Bad. He needed to find those med units and remove them so he could die in peace. If the Cons were tracking his health, they could take measures to keep him healthy and alive. Not what he needed. He needed something faster. This was taking too long.
‘Of course! Couldn’t let our star pupil go to waste before showtime. Now drink up, I’ve got places to be.” The guard smirked and kept his optics locked on Bee as he slowly lifted the cube up to his intake and drank it.
Nothing had ever tasted better. The energon glided down his throat and immediately soothed his overworked systems, clearing up the gunk in record time. He was by no means satisfied, but he did feel just refreshed enough to scowl at the guard.
The guard laughed. “I guess it’s true, then. The only difference between high grade and ration grade is how hungry a mech is. Til next time, bug.”
…
18 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
They’re moving me again. Can’t imagine why (har har har). Starvation was taking too long so I decided to go sightseeing instead and asked my guard to show me the sights. He said no. I imagine that the sights would include a big sky filled with smoke and the landscaping leaving something to be desired. I don’t think planetary preservation is high on their list of priorities.
I’ve been rereading my own mission logs to pass the time since they aren’t torturing me anymore (boo, boring). You probably won’t bother to read through all of them (and there’s a LOT) since I’ll be gone anyway, so I’ll do a little recapping for you here. During my time in various prisons, I got to meet with some real interesting mechs. Apparently, I’m like a super cool guy or something. You can and should tell that to Cliffjumper.
Breakdown was one of the first to visit me when I was still close to Polyhex. He brought me snacks and told me to answer their questions and behave. He should know me better than that. But seeing him was nice. I miss everyone. He told me about the other Stunticons, about how much they made him wish he could be assigned on his own sometimes. I told him to enjoy their bond as much as possible, even when they got annoying (AHEM Cliff) because he knew that they were always there for him.
I miss you guys.
End Log]
He was being transferred to a different cell. One without a drain, his guard told him. Figures.
He still didn’t know where on Cybertron he was, but he did get to map out the prison a small amount. As if it would do him any good. They took a lift up three levels and proceeded down a hall. Left, left, right, straight. Oh, this place was fancy.
The new cell was complete with all the fixings that Prowl had feared, including the laser grid cell door that was only in testing when Mirage first reported on it. Bee was going to be constantly watched, listened to, and tracked. Anything he did would be transmitted to the guards (or Soundwave if the rumor was true) and he could never hope to buy enough time to get anything done with this kind of supervision.
He wondered if that was the point.
The Cons wanted full surveillance over Bumblebee so they could dissuade him from offlining himself, and these new cells were exactly the way to get that. Nothing went unnoticed here, and prisoners couldn’t have two nanokliks of privacy. Funny, though, that the laser grids meant to intimidate Bots into behaving and staying put in their VIP cells would serve Bee perfectly.
These cells were meant for containment. Holding areas in between interrogations, where POWs would try to communicate with each other and formulate escape plans. They weren’t planning on going anywhere until the time was right, and no one was crossing any laser grid because their goal was freedom. The Cons seemed to have forgotten why they were transferring him.
…
17 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
I’ve finally gotten myself landed in one of the new VIP high-tech cells! Prowl, these have everything we thought they would! The only difference is that they managed to complete their work on the laser grid barriers, so that’s what’s serving as my cell door.
I remember some of my earliest visitors maybe four transfers ago being Scrapper and Hook. They were apparently the geniuses behind the new upgrades. I hadn’t seen them first hand yet, so they made sure to fill me in on what amenities I would most likely get to enjoy in the future. And look at me now! So important to these clowns that I’m staying in a higher-level cell than what they might even put Ultra Magnus in! Wouldn’t that be crazy!
These laser grids look tough. They’re densely aligned and don’t seem to flicker at all. It’ll do, I think.
It’s been an honor, Optimus. Thank you for everything.
End Log]
Bumblebee drank his energon and stared at the grid. Yup, if he wanted fast then that was the way to go.
He placed the cube back into the window and observed how the red light of the lasers reflected off his slightly-less-dull-than-before plating. Time to go.
He took a step and walked right into the laser grid, and then everything went dark.
15 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
THE LASERS GRIDS ARE DECOYS. THEY’RE NOT LETHAL. OPTIMUS, JAZZ, PROWL, ANYONE WHO’S READING THIS. THE LASERS WON’T KILL OUR GUYS. THEY CAN BE ESCAPED.
Let me explain a little bit, since scouting is my job and I’ve just made a HUGE FRAGGING DISCOVERY. The laser grids are made of real lasers, yes. BUT, as soon as they come into contact with something living, they deactivate. THEY DEACTIVATE. They power themselves down. Of course the alarm starts blaring and the lighting goes into emergency mode, but the grids are there to scare Bots into staying in their cells. THEY ARE ONLY THERE TO SCARE BOTS INTO STAYING IN THEIR CELLS DO YOU HEAR ME.
I don’t want to die with this information. This could save so many Autobots who get captured.
End Log]
Another solar cycle, another new prison cell.
After the fiasco with the high-tech laser cell, Bee was transferred back to one that had metal bars covering his exit. He wished that he had known about the lasers, then he could have planned an actual escape! But when the lights cut and the alarms started going, he froze. He was surprised to still be in one piece.
The new cell was fancy. Not fancy the way the high-tech cell was, but fancy like a well-furnished roadside hotel from five decacycles ago. It was also enormous.
They must have given him one of their cells meant for bots the size of Skyfire or Astrotrain. Was it because the bars were stronger or because they just wanted to watch Bee clamber up to the berth everyday? He wasn’t quite sure. But, supersized though it was, he had a table, a chair, and a wash basin. Thank Primus, he’d never felt so gross. He did have to climb onto the chair to climb onto the table to reach the basin, but clean was clean.
He needed to come up with something new. Solar cycles were running out.
His impending doom could wait a day for him to scrub up. He wanted to look his best for when the Cons eventually dumped his lifeless, gray body into Autobot territory.
…
13 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
I’m starting to get nervous. Nothing I’ve tried has worked yet and I’m losing time. What if I fail? What if I’m still here when Shockwave gets here and I fail to keep our secrets? I could never forgive myself.
I can hear your words, Optimus. “So long as you try your best, you have not failed.” Sorry, sir, but that’s a load of slag. Jazz would agree. In recon and scouting, where we deal with information more than fighting, our best isn’t enough unless we succeed. The consequences are too severe to accept anything less.
I’m about to fail, big time. I’m sorry Optimus. I hope you’ll forgive me for trying my best, because I won’t be able to.
End Log]
Bumblebee laid on the oversized berth with his optics shuttered. What was the next step? If he had ever gotten medic training, he could open up his chassis and remove his own spark in the most barbaric field operation ever seen. Unfortunately, he knew frag-all about medical stuff and would more likely cause permanent damage to himself without actually managing to go offline.
Next best thing he could do was bleed out.
Those pesky med scanners were still tucked away on him and in him and all over him like filthy little mites or scraplets, and Bee did try to remove them. But as soon as the Cons noticed that they were losing data on him, they sent what apparently passed as a medical professional around here to reattach them all. So, whatever he did had to guarantee a complete energon loss within a few kliks. Easy peasy.
He looked around his room again. Big metal berth, bolted to the floor. Big metal table. Big metal chair. Big metal basin, mounted on the wall. OH! Blunt force trauma! Oh… blunt force trauma. Scrap, this was going to hurt.
Bee took a long vent in and got to work.
…
9 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
=>Recorded Via Speech to Text
I’m failing. Optimus, I’m failing and I’m sorry for failing. There’s so little time left and I don’t know what to do. The guard found me when he came to deliver the next day’s energon. He said I looked like a scrapheap. That’s what I felt like. I managed to trigger short-term paralysis so I couldn’t even finish the job right. I’m even failing at killing myself.
I. I [UNINTELIGIBLE] sorry. They’re going to [UNINTELIGIBLE] thing and it’ll be all [UNINTELIGIBLE] Sorry. Sorry. They’re transferring me again tomorrow. I’m in the medbay right now. Their excuse for a doctor was not happy with what I’d done. Apparently I came real close. Can’t do anything right. Sorry.
I’m sure my new sell will be wide open with nothing that I could possibly hurt myself on. I don’t know what to do. My stasis lock is on, otherwise I would have done something, anything, by now. I’m sorry Optimus. Please [UNINTELIGIBLE]
End Log]
When he was well enough to be moved again, Bee’s guard and the guy who played doctor held him upright and paraded him down the hall to his new room. They walked by cells full of Autobots and deserters and neutrals who got in their way, but Bee couldn’t say anything to them. He wanted to, of course, but the Cons anticipated that and disabled his voice box for transport, and he couldn’t even use their tap codes to signal anything with his servos bound. Everything was silent too, which was kind of a blessing. His audials chose those brief kliks of transport to cut out, and Bee was actually glad that he didn’t have to listen to the cries of his colleagues and friends.
When they got to the end of the hall, they took the lift down and passed by a security door leading into the isolation rooms. He’d been isolated pretty much the entire time he’d been in captivity, but rooms designed for isolation were more intimidating on purpose. They were usually dark, poorly ventilated, and massively uncomfortable. He tried to learn as much as he could about the area he was being held in. There had to be something that could be of use to him.
He hadn’t managed to get any good views of it before, but on either side of the prison block doors were two panels. At a quick glance, they seemed to be cell gate control and energon distribution then pest prevention and lighting and security on the other.
He could disrupt the energon distribution system. Not even guards were meant to hang around iso chambers, so meals were given automatically through a dispenser in the cells. No, not enough time to try and repeat that experiment.
They were many levels down, deep underground, where pests colonized, which explained the need for pest control. Cool, so he could initiate a mite infestation. Oh no. Whatever would he do?
Wait.
Wait. Scraplets. There must be scraplets in this area.
So many Con prisons and even some working facilities that Bee had scouted were subject to mite infestations, but the Cons didn’t care about them. They were annoying and got in the way, but they were ultimately harmless to bots. The Decepticons wouldn’t implement pest control if it was only to ward off mites, especially in the sublevels of a prison for prisoners that they didn’t give two slags about.
That meant there had to be scraplets in the area.
No one could survive a scraplet infestation without the proper equipment, and Bumblebee did not have the proper equipment to handle scraplets.
His two escorts continued to haul him forward, turning here and there, eventually coming up to a big, hulking door with a security checkpoint on it. They paused there, allowing the doctor to switch Bee’s voice box back on while the guard searched his banks for the code to the door.
“Last stop for you, bug. We’re running out of rooms to keep you in, and we’d rather not have to keep you in stasis lock before the procedure. Sluggish limbs make for a sluggish mind, ya know? Shockwave was very clear with his instructions,” the guard said, entering the code with one hand and blocking Bee from seeing it.
“That’s too bad,” Bee replied. He shook his shoulders a bit, not enough to cause alarm but enough to put the two Cons on alert. “I was hoping to have gotten the full tour by the time I was done here.”
The door hissed out some steam and began to open. Frag, the thing must have had about forty-five hundred locks and gears on it, slow as it was opening.
“So am I going to get to see my new room anytime today?” he razzed with another jerk of the shoulders. He flexed a servo for good measure.
“Watch it.” The guard’s grip got tighter.
“You’ll have plenty of time to admire your new accommodations, Autobot,” the doctor cut in, tersely. “Come along.”
The guard and doctor tugged him forward through the open doorway, and Bee quickly checked his peripherals to ensure that this side of the door had the same panel controls. There, pest prevention.
“You guys would really rather not put me in here!” Bumblebee shouted. He began flailing and struggling in the two mechs’ grasps, pulling the entire group side to side and halting their progress. “I’ve had enough! I’ve had it!”
The guard grunted as he tried to retain his hold on Bee. “You’ll talk?”
“Never!” Bee screamed before shouldering the doctor off his left side and spinning around to face toward the door they just entered. The doctor fell to the floor and the guard lost his grip for a moment. That was all Bee needed.
He plowed headfirst into the pest and security panel, shutting down both the pest prevention system and the lighting in the block. Thankfully, the security alert system didn’t activate, so the lighting automatically returned to normal after a few kliks. Bee suppressed a grin and felt himself yanked backwards by the arms, painfully twisting his shoulders as he fell to the ground.
“You’ll regret that!” the guard hollered. “Autobot scum! You should’ve been in isolation this entire time, then I wouldn’t have had to clean up your fragging messes!”
Bumblebee’s groan was more authentic than he would have preferred.
“Think you can get out of a cortical psychic patch, wise guy? We don’t let our prisoners get away here, and that includes getting away by dying. You’re stuck with us, and we’ll get what we want from you. Fragging tight-lipped scout. What in the Pit kind of energon do they keep you on that keeps you so quiet?”
“You’re not getting any information from me.”
The guard scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. I know. In, you go!”
The two mechs shoved Bee inside with way more force than was necessary, causing him to fall to his knees in the middle of the bare cell.
“What about my cuffs?” Bee wheezed.
“Forget it!”
“No chance, bug. Shockwave can be the one to let you stretch out later. I’m sick and tired of putting up with you. Have fun in here by yourself, you won’t be seeing anyone until it’s time for the procedure.”
“Please, my servos,” he just about begged. “Free my servos.”
“Good riddance, Autobot.”
The door closed behind the guard and the doctor, and the lights throughout the iso block all dimmed to a low standby. The vents running through the place huffed and rumbled, but there was no other sound. Bumblebee rolled over and sat up, lamenting the fact that he’d be spending his last few days with his arms tied behind his back. What a crummy situation.
He peeked around the bars of his cell as best he could, luckily with a fairly close vantage to the door and its panels. The right side panel was flashing black and red, and Bumblebee was incredibly grateful that the Cons didn’t notice the giant ERROR message on it. Good, then. That was good. That means his plan worked, and he’d be left alone for long enough with no interruptions to kick it. He wished that his arms weren’t bound. He’d be dancing, he’d be singing, slag he’d even try to spin his wheels in his limited space.
But he couldn’t do any of that. Well, maybe he could sing. He needed some way to pass the time.
…
7 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
=>Recorded Via Speech to Text
So. This is exciting. My balance is total slag with my arms out of commission but at least I’ve been improving my singing. Jazz might even rate me high enough to surpass Hound. I can’t record any audio files but you can imagine just how wonderful I sound now.
I’ve already noticed some movement along the walls. I think the scraplets have noticed that the sonic frequency that was keeping them away isn’t on anymore. They can probably smell me too. I hope they work fast. Sorry to be morbid Optimus, but I do hope that they don’t make it too painful. I doubt I’ll be that lucky though.
There’s another problem that I didn’t think of when the guard first left me in here. I can’t easily drink my energon. It dispenses from the wall into a reusable cube. Well, reusable is a generous description of it. It doesn’t get washed. But I always spill half the energon in it trying to drink just using my intake. The sludgy goop at the bottom never makes it far when the fresh stuff splashes me. I guess I don’t really need it but I’d like to not be delirious when the scraplets get to me. I’ll keep working on it and update you later.
End Log]
…
5 Solar Cycles Until Shockwave’s Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
=>Recorded Via Speech to Text
It’s begun. They’re here and they’re hungry. It only occurred to me a little bit ago that you won’t be able to read my reports because there won’t be anything left of me to return, if the Cons were even planning on returning my body at all. I’m reporting to no one. But I’m going to keep reporting anyway. It makes it feel normal. It feels like I’m talking to someone.
Optimus, please tell me that you haven’t exhausted mechs and resources looking for me. Prowl must have put a stop to it long ago per Jazz. Please tell me that you actually listened to them. They know that once a Bot goes through a few different prisons, he’s not coming back. I lost track of where I was ages ago. I’m just a scout, Optimus. I’m not worth it.
But I do appreciate the effort I’m sure you must have put in.
I. Ow. Slag.
I’ve gotten better at drinking the energon servos-free. It requires some skill, but I was always a pretty fast learner. Now I’ll get to be fully lucid when I. When. [UNINTELIGIBLE]
I’m going to die. But that’s not right. It’s too passive. I’m sorry Optimus. I have to protect you. All of you. It’s my duty. I’ve proven my loyalty and dedication to the cause, right? I would do anything for my friends. I’d do anything for you, Optimus. That includes [UNINTELIGIBLE]
They never learned anything from me. Can you believe it? I hardly can. Did I do a good job?
I wish you could hear me. I wish I could hear you. It’s been so long. I miss. Ow. It hurts. [UNINTELIGIBLE]
End Log}
…
2 Solar Cycles Until Shockwaves Arrival
[B-127 Mission Log
=>Recorded Via Speech to Text
I haven’t been able to drink since yesterday. I can’t really move either. I think my fuel lines are gone. I think. I think. I think. I think they’re in my processor. I think [UNINTELIGIBLE] They’re in my spark chamber. I think this is it.
I’ve finally succeeded. I. I. I. I didn’t let them learn anything. They can’t hurt you because of me. Cause. Cause. Cause. [UNINTELIGIBLE] Losing. Failing. I haven’t failed, have I?
It hurts. But I expec. Pec. Pec. That. Did I do good? Optimus? Are you there?
Thank you, Optimus. I’m sorry, Optimus. I’ll see you again later.
End Log]