Chapter Text
“I’m rating this a two star experience on Yelp.”
Silence.
“How is it so cramped in here? You’re huge! Would it—“ ‘thunk’ “Kill you to make some space?!”
“If you don’t stop kicking back there, I’ll send us both off this cliff, and last I checked—organics don’t do well with heights.”
“Pfft. Whatever.”
Miko’s made a lot of mistakes in her life. Bleaching her hair while she still lived with her parents. Cursing out her piano instructor, because she was certain she had the right note. Getting involved in an interstellar multi-faction mechanical organism based civil war. The usual things a teenage girl her age does. It was a part of the rebellion, the freedom, the experience she’ll never grasp onto again until she turns eighteen.
And even then! It’ll be work, work, work! What about her time? What about her hobbies? Why would she spend time studying when she could go skidding across the desert dunes with her bestest friend in the entire star system?! Bulkhead had been less than pleased with the idea, especially considering she hadn’t finished her homework, but Miko had squirmed her way into his spark the day they met.
Saying no to her was nearly impossible for the mech at this point. Miko played that bot like a violin. Perfected all the tunes to get him to say ‘yes.’
Which, mostly just included a whole lot of ‘pleases,’ and ‘puppy-dog eyes.’ Apparently, that worked on even extraterrestrials. Who said hanging out with government secrets couldn’t be a learning experience?
Though, if she thought these would be the consequences of skipping out on schoolwork, then maybe, just maybe, she’d hesitate next time when the opportunity arises.
Cramped in the smallest trunk she could even imagine, with her limbs all twisted around just enough to be uncomfortable, and without any air conditioning—Miko felt the engine hum of Breakdown, and the distant, yet all too close thrum of a spark. She’d recognize the sound anywhere given how often she’ll shuffle her way into Bulkhead’s chassis.
That space was warm, peaceful, and dark. The perfect place for a midday nap. The mech didn’t mind one bit, in-fact, he keeps a small—mesh like material in there as a makeshift blanket. What Miko wouldn’t give to be snuggled up in that embrace again.
But alas, she’s here with a Bulkhead wannabe, driving through the endless road of what Miko could only assume to be the countryside. Most highways in Jasper are paved, while this? This was just bumpy pebbles and potholes.
Breakdown’s alt mode suddenly lurched, Miko’s head hit the top of the ceiling of the trunk, making her yell out a swear word in her native tongue. She kicked at where the Cons’ back taillight would be—aiming with the heel of her thigh high boots.
“Watch where you drive! Precious cargo back here!”
“Precious, huh? Is that what Bulk calls you?”
Seemingly on purpose—because there was no way that was a coincidence—Breakdown’s frame lurched right. Miko’s arms bent awkwardly as she tried to hold herself steady within the claustrophobic space. Once again, she kicked her heels out—slamming it against the metal panel interior. Breakdown swerved then left, though this time it seemed like more an accident than deliberate.
“You kick me one more time, kid, I’m sending you back to Prime and his crew as nothing more than roadkill.”
Miko, despite her attitude, did feel a tang of uneasiness flow through her nerves. Though she was anything if not mouthy, and immediately shot off a retort, “Nah-uh! If you wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already! You guys need me.”
As for many long stretches of the ride, Breakdown was silent.
“Watch your tone, squishy.”
Miko blew a raspberry out, crossed her arms, and went back to thinking of an escape plan for her current predicament. She’s positive Bulkhead and the rest of Team Prime would’ve already been on board the mission in rescuing her. If it got desperate enough, they might even call Wheeljack in for aerial scouting support.
Though, knowing Bulk, he’s probably already called him. Wreckers look after Wreckers, it doesn't matter what size or species they are.
She could only imagine how sick those explosions would look—bouncing off the Nemesis’ dark and broody walls. She wonders if Wheeljack and Bulkhead would do the slow motion walk with her during the rescue. If not, they could always recreate it, with no green screens allowed. Everything had to be practical!
Anyway,
Miko was having a grand ol’ time with her imagination—she could kick out Breakdown’s taillight for real. Though, he’d probably crush her between his servos out of retaliation, no matter what orders this literal ‘kidnapping’ was on. She could pretend to lose oxygen and have him toss her out—though, she doesn’t think she could outrun a truck of his size. Especially an alien one built specifically for speed.
Her creativity was halted when a whirling sound found its way through Breakdown’s seams, and suddenly Miko felt the familiar, disorienting feeling of a groundbridge hit her head first. She wrapped her arms around her head—a ringing burning through her eardrums as they passed through the bridge. It wasn’t until Breakdown slowed down, did Miko peel herself away from her makeshift snail-costume. What she wouldn’t do to have a protective, outer shell.
“Given your insistence on a bridge, am I correct to assume our..guest arrived alongside you, Breakdown?”
The smooth, snooty voice of Starscream rang out. Miko made an audible ‘blah!’ to herself. Then, she was turning in all the different degrees of angles she couldn’t even remember from algebra class. She immediately made a break for the first bit of light she saw—or, more of a desperate lunge, but still—only to snatched into a tight, blue servo.
Miko scowled as Starscream’s faceplates leaned down to stare right into her. Miko wiggled in Breakdown’s grasp, her fingers trying to pry at the thin seams along his digits.
“Take her. I’ve had enough of organics rubbing their fleshy exteriors on my interior.” Breakdown vented, optic a dim yellow rather than his usual bright gold. Miko turned to him—or, attempted, all she managed was a twist over her shoulder—and promptly glared her best dagger-eyes she could.
“Maybe if you weren’t so cramped, you wouldn’t have to deal with my ‘fleshy exterior,’ you no good, scrappy, oversized, Bulkhead knockoff, Con!”
There was a tense, heavy pause that followed after her explosive, short lived rant. Miko heaved for a moment of air. She really wished she had her inhaler at this moment, but it would completely ruin her tough-gal persona, so she sucks up enough air to get her chest to stop hurting.
Yup, she’s good, and her dignity is still intact. Double win.
“Hm..” Starscream started, deciding to ignore the outburst from the human. Miko turned her glare onto him, to which he also ignored. Oh, well, you win some and you lose some. Starscream pushed himself back to a more ‘proper’ posture, looking down at Miko with the same amount of disgust that she does insects. “Unfortunately, Breakdown, I have been specifically requested by our Lord Megatron for a highly secured operation.”
“Commander—“
“You will be in charge of our little hostage until further notice. Do keep in mind of their..fragile nature. We wouldn’t want any accidents, now would we?”
Starscream grins in a way that makes Miko shrink into Breakdown’s servo. As if that was any better than dealing with that pointy, heel wearing, explosive waiting to blow, mech. At least Breakdown seemed like he could keep his emotions at bay—Miko assumes. She's really only seen him out behind rocks on the battlefield while throwing punches with Bulkhead, so maybe that wasn’t the best assumption.
Oh, and they were moving, how fun. Grand even. Miko will definitely write about this in her journal when she gets home.
Cause she will get home, even if it’s the last thing she does. The Autobots will find her, and they’ll make the Decepti-Creeps regret ever crossing paths with a Wrecker!
“Fragging Screamer. Sparklingsitting duty? You join the cause for change, not to watch organic bitlets—“ Breakdown begins to rant when Starscream was no longer within sight. His vocalizer lowered to just barely audible for other mechs, and yet for Miko, she could hear him clear as day.
Miko tuned most of Breakdown’s grumbling out. Opting to take into account her surroundings as they walked through the Nemesis’ hallways. Purple. Black. More purple. More black. Oh, how original and memorable, she could already see the map forming in her mind!
Miko scoffed to herself, amused at her own internal sarcasm, but then the servo around her suddenly clamped tighter, and flung her upwards—right into the remaining optic of Breakdown. She wonders if she could poke out the other one by herself—though it seemed a bit unfair. How could she watch sick alien mechs fight when one of them was blind? Boring!
Bulkhead deserved good competition!
“You find something funny, squishy?”
“Define ‘funny.’” Miko snarks. Breakdown’s ventilations give a heavy, hot huff of frustration.
“You’re really starting to get on my internal sensors.”
“Are those your nerves? Oh, hey, what do you call a ‘liver?’”
Breakdown’s optic shutters, as if baffled by her attitude, so rather than continue a useless argument—he just turns his attention back to the Nemesis’ halls. Miko feels her stomach unsettle as his servo falls—practically swinging her back and forth at his side.
It was like those theme park swings—except without safety harnesses, and more evil alien robots involved. If she purged her stomach all over the floors, than she say it was well deserved!
The trip took a few minutes. Miko, despite her earlier attempts at figuring out the layout of the ship, couldn’t exactly get a good place on what was where considering her constant back and forth. It was fun for the first two seconds, and then it just got annoying, and then she felt queasy. She held her breath as a ‘shnk,’ of a door opened, and Breakdown stepped into a much brighter, cleaner area of the ship.
Miko twisted around, pushing her head up enough to catch the familiar red paint of a sports car. As if this day couldn’t get any worse!
“Breakdown, I take it your extraction went—“ Knock Out’s voice cuts off, a startled hiss leaving his vocalizer as Miko witnessed the Con’ actually jump back. A sense of surprise and disgust written on his faceplates. She snickers to herself as Knock Out puts space between Breakdown and her—keeping the slab of horizontal metal as a barrier. Miko wonders how many bots have offlined on that medical table.
No one had servos like their Doc-Bot. Even if he wasn’t here for her to voice and hear her appreciations, Miko would still diss that phony in Ratchet’s name!
“Get that thing out of here!” Knock Out yelled.
“Hey! I have a name, and it isn’t ‘that thing!’ Miko snarled back. The mech gave her no acknowledgement, which, rude, and instead kept his attention on Breakdown. Who practically deflated the moment they met optics.
“Commander Starscream’s ordered a ‘guard’ for the human. That guard happens to be me. I’m not happy about it, either, K.O.”
“Well, you can’t bring it in here! Those things leak, and they’re oily..sticky..it’ll contaminate the entire med-bay!”
Miko was half tempted to fake-cough, just because she wanted to see the medic’s reaction, but she rather not test the jumpiness of a mech terrified of ruining his finish, and also a doctor’s need for cleanliness. She knows from enough experience with Ratchet that if she or the other kids even breathe in the direction of his tools and station, he’ll immediately disinfect it. Twice.
So rather than test how ‘precious’ of cargo she truly was, she settled for squirming about in Breakdown’s servo. Twisting her limbs awkwardly in ways that were only possible when you didn’t have heavy armor plating for an exterior.
“Will you quit—“ Breakdown began, pulling her back up to their optic level, only to pause and reel back. “Stop doing that. You’ll break something.”
Miko stuck her tongue out in response. “I’m antsy! This is worse than detention—at least there I can fidget!”
“Knock Out—“ Breakdown began, only for the medic to make a ‘hmph’ noise. There was a rifling sound that followed, and then a cube like glass container was placed into Breakdown’s other servo. Knock Out waved the pair away, turning his backstruts on them, “Put it in our hab,’ but whatever you do, do not let it touch anything besides that.”
Miko stopped her contorting to eye the glass box. Breakdown lifted it, spared her one glance, and turned pede on the med bay. Miko didn’t know how, but there was no way in Hell he was putting her in that!
Her hair was frizzled. Stuck out in ways that weren’t on purpose with gel, but rather from the friction, and shaking she had experienced these past few hours. How does Miko know this? Well, she was staring at her reflection, that’s how!
So, trying to fight a massive mech from putting you in a glorified cage had indeed far exceeded Miko’s capabilities. She found that out the hard way when Breakdown had tried to drop her in—only for Miko to latch onto the grooves in his digits. Forcing the mech to shake his servo until she finally left go. She had hit the container’s bottom with a soft ‘thunk.’
And then, as if admiring his work, Breakdown grinned at her. His digit tapped the glass, which sent vibrations through it, and promptly knocked Miko on her back when she tried to stand.
“Just be patient, squishy. We both wouldn’t want to get on Screamer, or Lord Megatron’s bad side now would we?”
Miko flipped him the bird, which he payed no mind too—she assumed correctly he had no clue what it meant. Breakdown had left shortly after that, but not before typing some type of code into the small digital pad by the door. It slid shut with an additional ‘click,’ and Miko was smart enough to assume that she was now locked inside.
The room itself was..different. Not different in color scheme, no, it still had the blasted blacks and purple dawning over every surface. Yet, it felt more used and homey. If ‘homey’ could describe the interiors of an active warship. There was yet another metal slab against one of the walls, protruding shelves used for presenting..some type of holographic imagery, and the desk she sat on was covered in ‘data-pads.’
Miko was positive that’s what they were, anyway, given how often she’ll see Boss Bot or Ratchet wander around base with them. They were roughly the same size as a theatre screen. Much too large for her or the other two humans to attempt to use.
Not like she hadn’t tried, but Bulkhead didn’t let her near his—said it was private, and that he doubted their human fingerprints will be recognized on the touch screen.
She had instead made him set up a movie himself on it, and they had settled in for a long night of binge watching. Illuminated only by the light from the screen, and Bulkhead’s glowing optics shifting with his interest in the chosen films.
As silly and as childish as it sounds—completely ruining Miko’s ‘don’t care,’ attitude—she wishes Bulkhead were here with her. She wants his careful servos carrying her. She wants their banter without any real tension and hate behind each word. She wants to go home, she realizes, and it hasn’t even been a day.
A warship will suck the joy out of anyone, it seemed, even if Miko tried to keep some sense of optimism about her situation.
Like being trapped in a ‘fishbowl.’
She wonders if she played dead that they would simply toss her out. Though, given that the Nemesis is more often than not in the air—her luck of being thrown out into the open sky was more likely than being gently placed back on solid ground.
Miko pocketed the plan as a ‘last resort.’
And while her surroundings were less ‘monotoned’ than the silo’s dull rocky colors, she’d rather count the cracks in that ceiling than turn around to yet another strip of black paneling. Miko liked many dark aesthetics, including stuff similar to the color pallet most Cons’ dawn, and yet she’d gotten tired of it by the third corner she scanned.
At least throw something else out there.
Like yellow.
Or orange..
What was she doing again? Ah, right, escape plan. Miko disregarded her taste in interior design and focused back on the task at hand. She counted the passage of five minutes—which might’ve actually been seven, because she kept having to restart due to forgetting what number she was at—before jumpstarting her plan.
Ramming herself into the glass barriers currently surrounding her.
It sounded better in her head, honest!
Miko wasn’t a planning gal—she was the one who executed it, no questions asked. Raf or Jack would’ve had some smarty-pants comment on how ineffective this would’ve been..and damaging, because ramming your entire body into thick panels of glass? Ouch.
She had surveyed each corner container, looking for cracks, or any weak points she could possibly take advantage of. When she found none, she opted to focus bashing on one side entirely. Hoping maybe she’ll channel some of that honorary-Wrecker strength into her attacks.
The first go at the glass had her immediately regretting the plan. The second time, she ended up tripping over her shoelaces, flying face first into the glass. The third attempt, she hit her elbow by the point, and crumbled to the ground with a yelp.
The fourth try wasn’t as successful as she would’ve hoped. The fifth was even less spectacular.
By the sixth try, Miko was debating on slamming the metal buckle of her belt against the glass. Even if the risk of cutting herself on the sharp edges would increase, it’d also increase her chances at escaping—without the Autobots needing to ransom for her return!
She’d already messed up, and she wasn’t about to sit here waiting to be rescued.
Shoelaces double knotted and tucked into her boots, hair fixed behind her head, and eyes focused on one direct point of the container—Miko waited. She took in account her mistakes before, and with one last breath of air, ran for it.
Miko collided with the glass with a thundering ‘crack,’ and she half expected for this to have failed just like her previous attempts. Though when she landed against the glass, she didn’t slide down it, she fell with it. Just as she realized what had happened, the tipping container slammed against the desk surface her prison had been placed on. Sending the human inside toppling out in a graceless semi-complete roll.
“Scrap!”
There was a reason why she was put into piano lessons as a kid and not gymnastics.
Recovering from getting the wind knocked out of her—Miko pushed herself up onto her feet, eyes scanning the room once more. She hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead, but when her eyes met the data-pad from earlier, a grin found its way over her features.
Scurrying over, she climbed up onto the screen, and, just because she could, she made sure to kick the dirt in her boot’s grooves onto the screen. It might’ve not been noticeable to the massive bots, but it soothed her need to get back at them somehow. No matter how small.
Suddenly, her vision was blinded by the activating screen, and glyphs unknown to her flooded her vision. She recognized the shapes from sparing glances at Ratchet’s work—though she never got as far as asking what they meant. He always brushed it aside, commenting on how it’d be pointless to teach her. ‘Your vocalizers aren’t built with the proper anatomy for the correct pronunciation.’
Thanks, Ratchet! If Miko ends up loosing her one chance at contacting the bots, she puts full blame on him!
Shoving aside her frustrations, Miko did what she did best, and started stepping on whatever glyphs she could reach with every hop of her foot. At first, nothing happened aside from her slowly depleting hope. Then, when the tip of her shoe—steel toed and smooth—hit one glyph, and the screen shifted in a flash of changing colors.
Miko’s face lit up.
From an outside perspective, it looked as though she was trying to squash a skittering spider. Hopping from one foot to the other, pressing anything, and everything she saw in hopes that with enough button mashing—something positive will happen. If it worked on Raf’s video games, it was worth trying out here. On alien technology. Far exceeding anything humans had within their own grasp.
Miko shook her head from the pessimistic thoughts, and promptly slammed the tip of her shoe into the next nearest glyph.
A lot of things happened in the following moments. Miko hardly had the time to wrap her head around everything until after it was all over.
The screen cracked beneath her shoe, flaring up with a symbol that—despite being alien to her—could be translated as a ‘warning.’ Behind her, the door to the hab was practically shoved open—the mechanism that allowed it to slide squealing as two servos pulled it back. Miko herself jumped back from the loud noise of the crack, and further scared herself at the ‘whirling’ of an alarm now blaring from the data-pad.
Flashing that dangerous, Con’ optic red. Screeching louder than any garage metal scene Miko had attended before. Miko had wondered if she had time to figure out if it had a power button to it. Though, her curiosity was smothered by two, cursed vocals shouting in alarm.
“You—!”
Breakdown’s yell was swiftly interrupted by Knock Out.
“You said it was secured!”
“I—she—it was!”
Miko didn’t hesitate to use their second of arguing to look for a way out. Throwing the data-pad plan away—it didn’t really last long, anyway, so it was probably always doomed to fail, Miko told herself—she ran for the nearest edge of the desk. The small ‘thunks’ of her boots were completely silenced by the colossal sounding pedes of the two mechs.
“Get the human, and don’t you dare let it touch anything else!”
Knock Out commanded, and Breakdown gave an audible grunt of acknowledgment, before his servos were reaching down towards her. Miko squeaked, ducked, and flung herself out of the way—scrambling onto her feet as she darted towards the ‘cliff.’ Did she have a plan on what to do when she got there? No.
It was more of a ‘make it up’ as you go type day.
“Breakdown!”
“I’m trying, K.O—quit moving!” He snapped his digits into a fist.
Miko would’ve remarked something sarcastic, but unfortunately her heaving figure was currently lacking air, and she’d rather spend it on—y’know, breathing—than a quip. Besides, she’ll have plenty of those to yell out next time she sees them on the battle field a safe distance away. Bulkhead would be so proud!
Breakdown’s frame slid in front of her vision—waiting for her to slip up. Miko’s eyes met his optic, and instead of giving him the satisfaction of a compliant, quiet prisoner, she decided right then and there to make him regret ever snatching her up in the first place.
Until Bulkhead and the others could rein havoc on them for even daring to cross the Autobot’s charge, Miko swears she’ll make them rue her presence tenfold.
“Calm down, squishy..” Breakdown said, voice low and controlled, like Miko was some timid, rabid animal. Which, honestly, isn’t that far off from her regular personality, but currently Miko had a mission. One she couldn’t risk her own’s body yearning for recklessness to ruin! She could be plenty reckless when she’s back home safe, not as a hostage surrounded by things that could squish her if they miscalculated even one step.
Self preservation was her top priority!
Which is exactly why, when seeing no other way out except down, Miko launched herself off the desk and directly towards the mech standing in front of her.
Breakdown all but stumbled backwards—as if her weight had actually set him off balanced. Miko caught herself on the edges of his hip—latching onto the plating, trying her best to avoid getting her fingers crushed as her legs kicked aimlessly below her.
“Primus! Knock Out, grab her—“
“Your hostage, Breakdown, your responsibility!”
The medic’s voice had turned from disgust to a somewhat amused tone. He stood near the doorway, blocking Miko’s only visible exit. She would’ve complained more had it not been for a servo coming right for her.
Now, Miko will think back on this moment and laugh, because how funny is it that hanging a good ten feet off the ground—her first thought of action is to let go?
She makes a note to never mention this to Bulkhead, and especially Ratchet.
The moment her fingers leave the metal she feels her hair shoot up past her face, and her body go completely weightless. Miko was anything if not self-composed, so the scream she let out was merely an intimidation tactic. If she heard anything else, she’d personally make sure the rumor spreader was dealt with—Wrecker style.
Of course, rather than hit the floor and become but a stain of red on black—which grimly, Miko thought, would’ve definitely spruced the place up a bit—she landed a few feet down into the servos of her captor. Miko was so caught off guard, that for a moment, she was frozen by the gaze of that yellow optic. Breakdown looked equally shocked at his actions, a whirling noise emitting from his vocalizer—one the human only tilted her head at.
“Squishy—“
Miko didn’t give him the chance to finish before she was slipping the rest of the way down from his servo onto the floor. Taking advantage of his shock to replenish the distance between her and her giant, mech kidnappers.
“You just had it—!”
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?!”
Knock Out’s engine gave a rev, and he immediately disregarded the offer with a wave of his servo, “Having one of those things in my interior was enough contact for a millennia.”
Breakdown vented heavily, and then scanned the floor for their escapee.
Miko by this point ran until she hit the metal paneling of the wall—her hands touched it, as if expecting there to be some type of secret door. Every alien ship had to have a secret passage way! It was like rule number one of building one, or so she assumes from how many films had said trope. She heard the loud thud of Breakdown—now kneeling next to the desk she had scurried under. His bright optic glowing, shining onto her like a stage light.
“Enough games, organic.” He growled. Miko stuck her tongue out at the mech, turned on her heel, then booked it in whatever direction she was now facing. She could hear Breakdown give yet another frustrated vent, and heard the clanking of metal on metal as he rose back to his pedes. Miko tried not to think again about the possibility of being stuck underneath one of those.
She rather liked being 3D; being a flat, unrecognizable smear of insides on the floor? Totally not her style.
Her savior came to her in the style of what Miko could only assume be a ventilation shaft of some sorts—built into the wall, with the tiniest of openings structured alongside the cover. Just small enough for a human to slip through, Miko realizes. She pushes her legs despite the ache now forming in her muscles, the shadow of Breakdown’s servo slowly covering her figure until—
‘Clang!’
“Frag!”
Miko squirmed her way inside the vent, twisting and landing on her backside rather roughly. She flipped around, watching in relief the shape of retreating digits. Breakdown’s pede replaced the servo as he suddenly rammed it into the vent cover. Miko’s entire body shook with the vibrations, and she took that as her cue. Shuffling to her feet on shaky legs, and swiftly turning on her heel.
Did she have a clue where she was going? No, but anywhere that wasn’t here was an upgrade.
“Way to go Breakdown.” She heard Knock Out say, picturing him giving a slow, sarcastic applause. Breakdown replied with a strained, “not helping,” their voices growing quieter as Miko’s legs continued to push forward.
Miko didn’t stick around to hear more of their—admittedly—amusing bickering. Heels turning a sharp corner further into the ventilation shaft, Miko dragged her hand along the vent’s wall, praying that it’ll lead her to some equivalent of sanctuary.
Growing up in such a dense, winding city, Miko was used to the twist and turns of metal, and the bustling sounds of work. Cars drifting in an out of spots, children running alongside the medians, and the occasional old couple out for a midday stroll. Everywhere she turned it had been busy. The amount of noise brought a sense of comfort.
And, despite the change in settings, the amount of noise bouncing off the ventilations shafts too brought Miko some sense of familiarity. Instead of cars, it was Vehicons—trailing up and down the halls, and on occasion, Miko would catch a conversation or two. Instead of children playing, they traded in and out of shifts, clasping another on the shoulder plate, murmuring something foreign to her as they walked out of sight.
And rather than an old couple out for a midday stroll..
“She couldn’t have gone far—“ Breakdown’s vocalizer echoed. Miko ducked behind the small sliver of cover she had—peaking out from where the vent exited into yet another hallway. It felt like a never ending maze.
“I still don’t see the reason behind dragging me along.” Knock Out huffed, looking and sounding completely over this entire situation. Miko would’ve remarked it could’ve been over faster if they just, y’know, let her go. However, that was rule 101 of spying—never let the suspect know you’re there.
“Moral support?” Breakdown tried, shrugging his arms in defeat at the disappointed look Knock Out sent him.
“My big mech getting outsmarted by a human..” The medic coo’d, trailing a servo over Breakdown’s chassis. Miko did her best not to audibly gag at it. She already had to deal with Fowler and June back at the silo—now this? Leave the gooey teasing to the privacy of your own space!
“You aren’t losing your touch, are you?”
“This is not helping.”
“Well then com’ Soundwave to find it! The mech’s got cameras everywhere—“
“And let that news get to Screamer, or Primus forbid, Lord Megatron? An Autobot ally running rampant in the Nemesis unsupervised is just the thing they’d want to hear!”
“No need to get snappy, dear, I was only trying to help.”
Breakdown paused, turning to Knock Out with a digit brushing over his partner’s faceplates. The medic purred, and Miko—the unwilling witness—turned away with an eye roll. Gross. If she knew she’d be a spectator of enemy romance, she would’ve put up a bigger fight when Breakdown first snatched her up.
Like biting. She’s sure Fowler could repay her dental bills if it had gone wrong. Bone and metal don’t exactly mix well.
“I’m sorry. I’m only worried is all.”
“I know,” Knock Out hummed, all too pleased with Breakdown’s shift in attitude. “You can make it up to me later. We have a hostage to secure.”
“We?”
“I have something to gain now.”
Another pause.
“Though I refuse to let it touch me.”
Breakdown gave an amused vent, servo trailing over his partner’s panels to then rest at his back-struts, guiding them forward.
“Alright, deal, I’ll let the Vehicons know to keep an optic out for the girl.”
“Bug, more like it. Are you sure it isn’t poisonous? I heard that organics with brightly colored patterns are hazardous.”
Miko watched intently as the pair disappeared around the hallway’s corner together. She was totally bragging about this when she got home. Not the enemy-romance stuff—eugh—but the successful spying mission she had just rocked! The girl finds pride bubbling up in her chest, twisting herself around to head back down the way she came, Miko imagined what Jack or Raf would think.
As unrealistic as it would be, she hopes they’d be a little bit jealous. Maybe she can convince Bulkhead or Wheeljack to take her out on missions more—she was great at staying undetected! A small shadow amongst unknowing mechs. Miko was already thinking about code names when she had suddenly met the end of the vent—face smushed against the warm metal, causing her to stumble back.
Holding where her nose had just been hit, Miko’s eyes refocused in front of her, and unfortunately the sight before her was one that immediately drained any sense of ego from her.
Miko didn’t give any satisfaction to the appendage wiggling in front of her. She merely glared as the data cable wrapped around her, and then gracelessly tugged her away. Miko cursed loudly—Japanese, English, and a few Cybertronian words Wheeljack had taught her—as she heard the air rush past her ears.
When it finally stopped, she noted the lack of an inclosed, metal ventilation shaft. Instead, she met her own reflection from the glass cover of an empty, faceless visor.
‘Sorry, Breakdown,’ she finds herself thinking. There goes a promotion or whatever the Cons’ use to boost morale.
Soundwave tilted his helm at her. Miko mimicked him for a moment, stuck her tongue out, then went back to doing what she did best.
Squirm.
Surprisingly, if she were to rate the stability of what mechs had carried her around, Miko would have to say Soundwave had less turbulence than any of the others. Bulkhead was gentle, but still rumbled the way an idle car would. Breakdown was..Breakdown. On one occasion, Ratchet had yoinked her up by the back of her shirt—mainly because she had been hands deep in electrical wires that definitely shouldn’t have been being messed with. Doc-Bot was definitely last on that list, mainly because Miko felt a bit petty with her rankings.
If he didn’t want her to touch them then he shouldn’t have let them see the light of day. The moment Miko’s got her eyes on something, it’s tough to get her away from it without her at least making some type of contact.
Now the memory itself wasn’t all that off from Miko’s current train of thought. When Soundwave had dragged her into a room filled with Vehicons—Miko had immediately latched her eyes onto one specific one, mainly because he had tires, and the others all looked like jets.
She had made it her mission to freak the bot out until something else happens. She attempted to distract herself with this via’ staring completely dead straight at the clone. Soundwave had simply turned to one of the other mechs, warbled something in a mixed language, and sent the clone out the door. Miko didn’t so much as twitch at the noise around her.
You hang with large robots enough that the sound of occasional alien language, and the thundering noises of pedes against metal don’t really have that much of an effect on you anymore. Miko prided herself on not even flinching when the vehicon returned shortly later—she heard, not saw, given she was still staring daggers at ‘Wheels’—with two more pairs of metal on metal following after it.
“What is the phrase? ‘Early bird catches the worm?’”
Miko would totally correct Knock Out on how that is not how the saying works within this context, but decides against it in favor of being able to y’know, breathe. Soundwave had a steady grip, but it was still a tight one.
“Commander Soundwave, I can explain—“
:: You—in charge of our little hostage—We wouldn’t want any accidents. ::
The cut up voice of Starscream replies. It was that that finally broke Miko out of her one sided staring contest, flipping her head around to stare at Soundwave with a bewildered look. She banged on the data cable with her hands, kicking her legs around whilst she squirmed side to side.
“Ooh! Do me, do me next!”
“Quiet human,” Breakdown hissed.
:: Maybe if you weren’t so—worse—‘the thing’—wouldn’t—accidents ::
Miko’s eyes lit up, though a few words had been reused, hearing herself come out of a giant mech’s faceless..well, face, like that? Awesome! She wished she had her phone to document it.
“Sweet! Do Breakdown! No, no, wait, do that guy!”
Miko pointed excitedly over towards the Vehicon she had been eyeing earlier. The mech perked up, pointed a digit at himself, and then shook his helm wildly in dismay.
Boring. The Cons’ would have much more of an advantage if they actually decided to chillax’ once in a while. What happened to crew morale?
:: Insubordination will not be tolerated :: Megatron’s voice warbled from Soundwave’s visor, making Miko twitch with a barely noticeable flinch—listen, the big guy was spooky! Anyone would be uneasy with shark teeth like that. That wasn’t even including the optics that seemed to have an entire 360° view on their surroundings at all times. Miko shuddered even thinking about it.
“It wasn’t—“ Breakdown went to argue, but swiftly cut himself off. Miko blinked at the mech as he held out a servo. “I understand, Commander Soundwave. This will not happen again.”
Soundwave’s data cable curled around Miko ever so tighter. Miko held her breath at the slight pressure on her stomach and back. Thankfully, it only lasted for a moment longer before she was deposited in Breakdown’s outstretched palm—immediately the mech’s other servo clasped over her. An effective, although dark, cage. Miko just huffed, rolling onto her back as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior.
She thought about kicking him again, but decided against it given the ‘back up’ in the room. Soundwave doesn’t seem like the type to be as patient. If one could even call Breakdown patient. Miko will ask Bulkhead about the mech later.
Maybe he’s got some dirt on him she could totally use to poke at if she gets snatched up again.
Miko severely doubts the idea of that ever happening. With Bulkhead and Wheeljack both in the equation, she doubts she’ll ever get a moment to herself this day onward. She already had to deal with Bulkhead idling outside her host parent’s house after their whole fiasco at the museum.
:: Return—to your—tasks :: Soundwave rumbled to what Miko assumed to be every mech in the room. Then she was on the move again; jostled about in far too cold servos, and in an even worse cage than before. At least in her ‘fishbowl’ she could see!
Though her sight may have been limited, her hearing worked perfectly fine.
“Why the Autobots keep you things around when you cause so much trouble is beyond me,” Breakdown’s voice echoed with an obvious tone of frustration and annoyance. Miko stuck her tongue at the general direction of where she thought his face was—despite knowing he couldn’t see it. It was the thought that counted.
“How Bulkhead manages to keep his processor on is only for Primus’ to know,” he grumbled. Miko squirmed towards where his servos met, and the tiniest bit of light shimmered through. She stuck her hand through the opening, slapping at the metal as she spoke.
“Breakdown! It’s escaping again!” Knock Out—who Miko had almost totally forgot was here, given his abnormally quiet demeanor—yelled. Miko cursed as suddenness of the bright, blinding lights of the Nemesis’ hallways as they flared into her vision—Breakdown’s servo retreating as he went to investigate the ‘prison break.’
Miko wasn’t even trying that time! Dramatic much?
“Ow..!” She groaned.
“Scrap—is it dying?”
“She isn’t dying—kid, hey, you aren’t offlining, right?”
Breakdown’s optic suddenly got all up in her face—the yellow glow making her squint as an ache formed in her eyes. Miko, much to her and Breakdown’s own surprise, pushed away against his faceplates as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Ugh—turn the lights down, man! You’re blinding me over here.”
“Fragile and whiny,” Knock Out ‘tsk’d.’
“I’ll show you fragile!” Miko shot back, scrambling over towards the edge of Breakdown’s servo—pointing daringly at an unamused Knock Out. The medic vented, and his optics trailed across her frame with the same look that Miko often gave the spiders that liked to hang around base.
Hah.
“Feisty,” Knock Out added on to his earlier remarks. “Aggressive little things, but what more could you expect out of such a primitive planet?”
“Knock Out, please stop provoking my hostage.”
The medic gave Breakdown a ‘are you serious?’ look, only for his optics to glance down at Miko—who took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at the Con. Knock Out’s ventilations suddenly bursted with a gust of air, as his servo waved dramatically in her direction.
“Tell that to the human! Fiend,” He directed the insult right at her, but Miko’s heard plenty worse things before, and turned her head away with an overly aggressive ‘hmph.’
“I’m sure she doesn’t know any better. These things are young.”
“Hey! I’m turning fifteen in like..two months!” Miko interrupted, only for the pair to stare at her bewildered, and she would’ve taken the victory of finally catching them both in a state of shock if it hadn’t been for Breakdown repeating—
“Young. Very young.”
“And you are positive we can’t just..leave it with the Vehicons?”
“And let them throw the hostage around like it was a game of lobbing? No.”
“..Fine.”
“This time you should put the glass over it,” Knock Out states as they turn the corner. Breakdown’s vocalizer hums in agreement. Meanwhile, the ‘it’ in question has had her full of cages for the rest of her life—metaphorical and literal!
“Nah-uh! I am not going back in that fishbowl!”
The suddenness and somewhat desperate tone in her argument had Knock Out pointing a sharp claw in her direction daringly. “You have no leverage here, human.”
“Knock Out—“ Breakdown starts, but is once again interrupted by the girl rising to her feet—wobbling from the constant jostling of the mech’s own pedesteps. Her small voice somehow overlapped his own as she bit back, “Maybe, but if I wasn’t still important—then that Wave guy would’ve just chucked me out the nearest window!”
“I’m starting to wish the Commander did—“
“Do it yourself, then, coward!”
“Breakdown give the human here!”
Miko felt her world shift as Breakdown’s servos lifted her out of reach from Knock Out swiping claw. She fell right onto her backside, and clutched desperately at the seams along the mech’s servos. The last thing she wants to be is a pancake on an alien warship floor. Plus, there were way cooler ways to go out than being squished.
Regardless, it didn’t stop her heart from lurching right out of her chest.
Breakdown didn’t say anything to Knock Out, merely giving the mech a look with his optic—as if to remind him of his place above arguing with organic children.
Miko—against her deafening ego—didn’t count the silence as a win.
“Listen. We don’t like this any more than you do,” Breakdown began in an oddly sincere way. Miko was caught a bit off guard by the sudden switch in tones—the way he lowered his vocalizer as he spoke to her, as if to ensure she understood the genuine message behind it.
Miko wanted to shrug it off as patronizing. Unfortunately, she couldn’t, because wow, that sounded exactly like Bulk whenever he’s going full lame-o-guardian on her.
“Now, I don’t really want to be cleaning up squishy insides. Neither does my partner here—“
Knock Out shuddered in the background.
“—I’m telling you to corporate. It’ll make this easier on you and your Autobot allies.”
Miko stared up at both mechs for a good long while. Thoughts crossing through her mind, questions she wanted to demand answers to, insults she wanted to hurl because it was the only thing something her size could throw at something like them—
“So..you aren’t going to put me in the fishbowl?”
Knock Out huffs, leaning in close to the girl with a jab of his sharp digit, “Keep your oily little servos to yourself, and that won’t be an issue.”
Breakdown bristles, “What he means is that—no, we won’t. Only if you promise to behave—“
Miko scoffed on instinct, what was this? Detention? The mech however didn’t seem all that offended, continuing to speak without pause.
“You want to see the Autobots again? Do what’s asked of you.”
“I’m not selling them out,” Miko finds herself mumbling. Breakdown’s optic swirls, the golden glow lightening up the metal around his faceplates as he continues, “You don’t have a choice,” he then raised one digit—their version of a pinky, if Miko were to be specific.
“Deal?”
Miko blinked at the metal. Then to the pair and a half of optics staring at her. She just hopes Bulkhead won’t be mad once this is all over.
She reaches up and clasps both hands around the servo.
“Deal.”