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A strange clicking sound greeted Bumble as soon as his computer onlined, his systems warming up alarmingly slow. Without any other choice but to focus on it, he listened as it grew quieter and louder in intervals. If he didn't know any better, then he would think it the sound of thruster-heels clicking against the pavement in impatience.
But of course, that didn't make any amount of sense, because the only Autobot remaining with thrusters was Jetfire—and considering that the despondent bot hadn't pulled a prank any time within the last decade, he couldn't picture him sneaking into Bumble's room just to… skulk? Confide in the mech responsible for the death of his brother? Jetfire might trust him and follow his leadership, but they weren't friends. Not any more.
Bumble Prime had very few that he could call a friend still lest he forget.
With a low groan vibrating through his neck coils, he struggled with onlining his visual sensors. If he could see the source of the clicking, he could calm his rapidly revolving spark. He hadn't done anything crazy the night before to warrant all of them disconnecting during the night cycle, so then why…?
The clicking sound increased, growing louder as he shifted. His frame often felt like dead weight—hah, probably because it technically was—but not to this extent. Bumble attempted to drag his legs against the ground, pulling them toward his center chassis to prop himself up but found it impossible. His boots refused to disconnect from one another and his arm bracers were in a similar position, bound behind his kibble.
Had he partially transformed in the middle of his stasis nap? Why wouldn't his limbs separate?
Heaving forward, Bumble managed to bring online his main cameras. The ones in his headlights were still out of commission, not to mention that his sensory settings were dulled to the point of dysfunction, but at least he could finally see.
Before he could get the chance to look around, Bumble lurched as he was abruptly hauled off of his front.
"Up? About time!" With his computer lagging behind as it tried to comprehend the source of his failed system start-up, his optics shuttered in a blink as between one moment and the next, the face of the current Decepticon leader pressed uncomfortably close to Bumble's, "I have been waiting far too long for you to wake!"
"Wh–?" Bumble blinked, vocoder heavy. He wasn't given a moment to catch up at all before Galvatron slammed him back down at the ground. With a sharp grunt, he grit his denta as his chin guard cracked. Galvatron's servo curled around the nape of his neck coiling, flexing as he shouted, "What's the matter with you?!"
In hindsight, he should have come to the conclusion that his inability to govern his own frame could only result from the use of stasis cuffs—even broken and bugged as these ones were. They allowed him a small range of movement, such as talking and squirming, but his limbs were unresponsive and transforming anything was out of the question.
Moving past him—and not dignifying him with an answer—Galvatron paced back and forth, a jagged stretch of distance crossed before he abruptly pivoted. Bumble watched the frenetic movement, tense with every furious click.
With Galvatron momentarily distracted, his optic cameras darted across the space, recognizing the underground lair in a familiar creeping sensation.
He and his Autobots had been here not even a week prior, in an attempt to form yet another truce with the Decepticons. Although while not on the best of terms with her, Sari had reluctantly trusted Bumble to conduct any and all negotiations with the screws-loose leader.
Bumble had insisted on it, really. Her role as the sole Prime of Kaon, protecting her own team of Autobots was far too crucial to risk going into the planet's core for. Especially with their dwindling resources, they couldn't afford to waste a single drop of energon not when it powered the defenses of their stronghold.
And besides, Bumble had some experience with pushing back Galvatron's forces. Wielding the Magnus hammer on Moonbase-2 had been luck more than anything else—a wrong time, even more wrong mech stumbling upon their downed Magnus and having the symbol of Autobot resistance passed along to him. Bumblebee hadn't a clue on how to properly fight with the external weapon at the time, but he learned how Galvatron operated—conducting the Sweeps to swarm and overwhelm whilst he had Cyclonus and Scourge guard his flank—and that had to count for something.
If things went south, and they likely would knowing that reason and logic were well beyond that bot, Bumble could handle it… He hoped.
Yet… As per usual, Galvatron would hear nothing of it and they had to jettison from the core before the insane lord without an empire could stir a commotion loud enough to draw the attention of any wandering Predacon squadrons.
He had tried countless times now to get the Con to combine their forces to no avail. All of his failures were starting to stack up and collapse with the sole purpose of burying him underneath.
Ratchet wanted for Bumble to give up entirely, to hell with Sari's plan but he couldn't. Every day without a unified Cybertron was another day where more and more of their mechanisms fell to the Predacon contagion. Even if it took a hundred years more of scavenging, begging, and pleading Bumble would do it so long as they won over the warlord.
And together, as one, they would drive out the plague by burning away at the source— Her.
The Predacon Queen.
But Bumble couldn't very well do that if Sari and Bulkhead both hated him with every fiber of their sparks and the only other surviving faction wouldn't entertain even the idea of teaming up. How was he ever supposed to fix this mess when nobody would let him own up and take responsibility? Cast blame all they liked, but he was trying.
So sorry, Ratchet, but he had to keep at it. He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, not until he perished under the end of Galvatron's barrel or fell to the techno-organic corruption.
Hence, his absolute confusion to find himself bound and before Galvatron now. Galvatron had been incredibly clear—and loud—about his refusal, and kidnapping wasn't exactly his normal modus operandi.
"Why have you brought me here," Bumble demanded. "I thought you weren't exactly keen on joining forces with a team led by a 'pitiful protoform'?"
"I had said that, hadn't I?" Galvatron mused, turning swiftly toward him. "But erase it from your processor! I have had much time to think on it and I have decided that if you Autobots were truly so desperate as to grovel before me, well, that deserves some consideration wouldn't you agree?"
For a brief moment, Bumble allowed himself to feel… hope. "Really? You're considering our proposal?"
"Yesss, I have." He smirked, then scowled. "But I have no interest in amnesty, not when Cybertron rightfully belongs to me and no other." And like that, that joyous feeling became squashed under Galvatron's heel. "No, I have other interests in mind."
"Alright…" he started slow. While they didn't exactly stand as equals—not with Bumble tied up as he was and Galvatron lording high above him—Bumble had prepared himself to meet whatever demands the warlord made. Whatever it took to make amends. "And what would that be?"
"Yourself."
"I'm… Sorry?" Flustered, Bumble reared back as much as the cuffs would allow him. He only succeeded in making surface level scratches against his facial sculpt. "What does that mean? Because I'm not exactly for sale–"
"Silence!" Galvatron roared, kicking at Bumble's left tasset. He held in a groan, biting down on his lower lip to not give the Decepticon the satisfaction of his hurt. Galvatron calmed quickly, mercurial as ever. "Now, where was I?"
He stepped away once more from Bumble. He didn't start pacing again, thank goodness, but he did gesticulate widely, "It took me a moment to remember who exactly you were, as I wondered where precisely the Autobot's would have sprung a protoform from to lead them. Come to find, why, you are no protoform at all! Rather, you are that yellow pest that I tore limb from limb on Moonbase-2. Your cries over that dastardly Rodimus sung through my processor and I found a particular fascination with that. But where he stayed dead, here you are transformed into a new being entirely."
Bumble kept quiet. Ultimately, he was unsure as to where Galvatron's ramblings were heading as honestly they could turn down any direction and his computer would struggle to keep up.
"It reminded me of my own creation. My predecessor served as the drawing board from which I was made, enslaving me to Unicron in doing so, but yet I persevere and he has perished! And you? You have been remade by my hand, but I find myself suspiciously lacking in subservience." Galvatron declared. "I will make it clear so that your simple processor will get it— You belong to me!"
All at once, the fuel running through his veins froze. While he hadn't personally borne witness to any of Galvatron's episodes during the time that titan Unicron was threatening to devour Cybertron, Rodimus told him enough. His computer whirled with the imagery of the mech before him hunched over in pain, howling as he tore at his own helm as a parasitic connection burned away at his sanity.
As one could imagine, the thought of that happening to himself scared the living daylights out of him. Bumble stammered, "That's ludicrous! By your own logic, you're asking me to kill you!"
"Ah, but that is where you are wrong." The grin spread across Galvatron's facial sculpt could not go any further without cracking through the dividing lines. "You need me in a way that has weakened you."
Scrap.
"Isn't that so?"
"… Yes." Bumble admitted, despite himself. "It's true, I can't…" Afford to screw up any more than I already have.
Sari and Bulkhead both insisted that the Predacon Queen resided within Cybertron's core. If they did not make peace with the Decepticons, they'd have to fight for their freedom and survival on two different fronts. Bumble had told them he could handle this, that he could get Galvatron and his forces on their side.
And didn't he ultimately deserve this?
"Alright," he conceded, optics down-turned. "If that's your only demand, then I'll meet it. I'll become… yours." Whatever that entailed.
Galvatron reached out and grabbed Bumble by his wheel well. Hiking him up onto his poleyn, he allowed him the reprieve of sitting up right for only a moment before he straddled him. If they were in their original frames, the concept of this pose would have been laughable. But they were only a size or two apart in terms of construction, and so Galvatron settled down easily.
"Excellent." He hissed, face up close and personal with Bumble's. "So you have seen the truth as easily as I have! One might even go so far as to claim that we were made with each other in mind. But enough espousing, we must consummate this deal."
"I'm going to guess that a handshake wouldn't cut it, huh?" he mumbled.
"Don't be ridiculous! We must engage in the rite of oneness." Giddy, Galvatron admired the flit of apprehension on his face. "You know of it?"
Of course he did. Ratchet had shown him it in private, swearing that he would always stand by Bumble's side during one of his darker moments. Their fuel combined in little drips—the most that they could afford—and then promptly set aflame by careful sparks from his stingers. Bumblebee had never heard of the ritual before, with it having fallen out of use by the time that he was made.
How, then, could Galvatron know about it? Bumble figured that with his memory problems that something as useless as that would slip away from him.
"I do." And he also knew that the only reason why such a bond between mechs held any weight whatsoever was because no Autobot in history had ever betrayed it. Bumble… Couldn't find it within him to claim the title as the first to do so, his spark stuttering as it sunk straight to his tanks. He had already ruined so much of their home, he wouldn't tarnish their culture either.
Ratchet had trusted him with it. Bumble couldn't betray that— Betray him.
"Perfect." Galvatron reared back in a loud cackle. "No need to look so glum, your misery and my madness will mix together as one as surely as our fuel will."
It would, wouldn't it…
