Work Text:
Sharp, elongated teeth plunged deep into him—the sole memory that rattled around on repeat as the infection swelled. His struggle had been over in a moment, gasping out words of vitriol as if it had ever mattered in the first place. If it ever existed at all.
He couldn't remember why he yelled or what or to who. With that sole injection of venom the world bled away, as though he were chasing down a bad batch of oil. Everything and nothing at all hurt, all at once.
A curdling scream echoed through the chamber. It might have come from him, but his levels dropped, dropped, dropped and a certain amount of ecstasy carried it all away. He floated high, even as he was tossed to the ground.
Bodies flooded into the corridor, gliding in, stomping forward, bum-rushing him. Why? They all stopped, perched as they waited and realized and anticipated his oncoming change.
Bubbling < energon/blood > splattered out of his < intake/mouth >. It spilled down his front and onto the ground. How amusing, where could all of that come from? Perhaps, from his < lines/veins > that throbbed—pulsing as he writhed at the < throne/seat/nest > and for a brief moment, he only felt an all consuming regret.
Followed by immense guilt. And then concluded with a wave of self-loathing. Before resentment returned, sourced from every living thing on the planet. They all hated him, he hated himself, and once his < plating/chitin > settled, sore and raw and fresh, he was granted silence.
Blissful silence.
Dreadful silence.
The world should never sound silent.
Not when his < computer/brain > had been pulled into such a wide web, connected and made one with the sparks of every living thing remaining. Gossamer strands tying him up, bound and vulnerable.
He twitched from where he curled against the ground, < cables/muscles > responding to a distant, far-off stimuli. It didn't sound nearly so distant now that everything else emptied itself out to make room. He had so much room to give—consume him. Everything he had to offer, take it, it's yours. How generous.
That clambering in the distance grew louder and louder yet, the further his mind drifted toward it. Inviting everyone in. Time lapsed, with nothing to do but sink and seep through his < digits/claws > and before he even realized he felt so surrounded, so… comfortable.
He wasn't alone. He could cry. Nobody had touched him with such gentleness in centuries. They all held him now, his < frame/body > pressed tight against mechanisms not even present. Some were present. He hated them. They hated him. They saddled up to him, rubbing < pauldrons/shoulders > with his own, as an overbearing all-consuming presence that whispered in harmony slide across his back.
At some point, his < threads/thoughts > stopped being his own. Where one mind ended, another began and they all shared the same goal, really. All with the same sentiments and all aimed at him—the last bastion to fall, the sole domino left to tumble, the final piece to the puzzle, and the final Cybertronian.
They were an orchestra without a maestro, waiting in the wings, and gossip spread when left unattended, and with all < optics/eyes > on him, everyone had some form of grievance to air:
YOUR FAULT SCREW UP BUMBLER KID WHAT HAPPENED JUST GREAT OUR ONLY HOPE WHAT A JOKE WHO IS THAT ISN'T THAT YES IT IS NO IT ISN'T WHY IS HE HERE WHAT HAPPENED WHAT NOW WE'RE RUINED HOW'S IT FEEL MISSED YOU HATE YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU FIRST WHY DIDN'T YOU RUN RUN WHERE WE'RE DOOMED WE'RE TOGETHER AGAIN IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOUR FAULT DON'T LISTEN BUMBLEBEE BUMBLEBEE BUMBLEBEE BUMBLEBEE BUMBLEBEE
He laughed, hearing them so clearly.
And laughed, at how much he agreed.
And sobbed, the guttural sound catching in his < vocoder/throat > with a sharp keen that keeled him over. His organs shifted in ways that hadn't been possible or present moments ago and he felt every squish of flesh so intently that stomach acid lurched into his < chassis/chest > ready for him to expel it all.
He had failed them all.
It grew crowded quickly, the swarm surging forward as he continued to invite them in. What else could he do? He deserved all of this and more. All the shouting, all the blame—with everyone in unison over a common enemy, they should tumble over themselves to dig into his soft underbelly and tear him apart. Entrails pulled, organs squeezed into mush, a fate worse than death as the glee and satisfaction magnified around him at his own demise.
Do it, do it, do it, do–
Possessive < hands/servos > grasped his own and silenced every voice echoing with their vile demands for retribution.
Like drones at attention, they all fell in line awaiting further command.
"I… have waited… for you for longer… than I would have liked," She spoke and they all listened, with baited breath and a hair-raising anticipation. He listened, knowing that her attention was on him and him alone. "Without you… none of this… would have been possible."
Tears fell from his < optics/eyes > and he nodded. It was true, he hadn't meant it, but it happened and the blame fell to him.
"Hmm…" She approached. There wasn't much metal left for her to drag him closer with her—Ratchet's—her magnets. Those behind him bowed, he remained crumbled at the ground. < Audials/antenna > flickered invitingly, the scent of her titillating. She was so close to him. He should kill her. She should kill him.
She did nothing of the sort. "My hero…"
Our hero. Every voice repeated and passed along the message, and oh. Oh, the relief. The horror. He shouldn't– no. Of course he should rejoice, he had been made better. They all had.
Slowly—gracefully—trudging forward, hauling the engorged mass built from countless mutations, she brought her lips back to his person again. He wasn't much of a person. It didn't matter, not when she lapped at his < cabling/neck > and peppered him with kisses. Our hero.
The world spun. Up, down, his vision swam and each color smeared into the other. Those lips moved away, the act concluded, but she did not recede. The swarm bled away, banished. All of their opinions were squashed under the swelling appreciation from her. They didn't deserve to deviate.
Dragging him off of his knees, she laid a hand against his < chin-guard/mandibles > and he sunk even deeper into that warm embrace that coiled down every inch of his being.
And she was there too, inside of him. He had made room for her chiefly and above all. Perhaps she had always had been there, oh yes, they all agreed on that. Considered it incorrigible to even think otherwise—all unable to go without her presence for even a moment.
Why had he ever wanted to oppose this?
They were all bonded to her as she was bonded to that mutation agent from so long ago. He did that, he caused this, he–
"Sshh… No more of that. You're one… with me now," she dragged him fuller into her embrace. He sunk even deeper, forgetting all that threatened to disconnect him. A hum reverberated across his < helm/head > that originated from… somewhere. It grew stronger with her approval. "My… drone."
He purred, barely aware of anything beyond the contact between him and her.
They all agreed— They were all only hers.