#drabble~

Finally, alone time, away from bots, away from humans. Finding a spot, hidden from view didn't come easy for a mech his size. He'd found a large cave in the forest, long abandoned, empty and quiet... If not for the noises that poured out of his vocals.

How?? Why did it hurt so much?? Who would try to hurt them?? This much... Flash Vector's frame had moved by instinct, to protect one that he held close to his core. He'd seen it, the flicker of light, and the sound of a gunshot. Non else could move as fast as him, to protect them, to get in the way. The most dumbest and most successful way to protect-- at the cost of his own safety.

A clatter, blades fell from his grip, a hole torn right through them. Only the beginning of the cave of a bullet, of unknown origin, unknown strength. The rest, settled upon the side of his chassis. A hole, that crackled with electricity, and burned with torn wires, before a splatter of pale green burst out of it. Like a delightfully dangerous river.

Hurts, hurts...! HURTS! AHGG! The shock made him unable to scream out loud. Frame at a standstill, too scared to move. What if the perpetrator shot again? This time, he'd get his target, he couldn't-- He cannot let that happen. He won't let them get hurt. No, never, he can take it... They missed his core, he'll survive another if he needed to. All to keep them safe.

Trembling, the pain, it poured into his frame like a scorching fire. The leaking, not stopping, his pedes, getting numb. Ohh--... He's falling, down down, oddly... slow. Maybe someone caught him, holding him--He couldn't tell, he's hyperventilating. Did bots even breath?? No, he didn't think so-- Oh, it's his core, it's pulsing so loud, it's scared. He's scared---

At least they are safe... Safe, safe-- He doesn't hear any more bullets, only shouting-- blurred words.

It'd been three decacycles since the club garnered more attention, not for the drinks, nor the music, but for what rested at the back of the club. A huge tank, expanding nearly the whole side of the wall, decorated with a mix of organic and cybertronian sea life. Small plants, and rocks, with small mechanical fish swimming about, and around a large mass that hovered in the middle of the water.

At first glance, one could mistake it for a giant fish, until one followed the blinking blue biolights up the side of its tail to their waist, over their chassis, with finned arms protruding from its torso. A mermech, floated within, barely moving, if not for a pair of blue staring into the club. Like the bots watched him, he silently observed them back. Or so one would think, but due to the irritation of the bright flashing lights, every mech looked like a blur of color in the distance.

A lunge forward, and then back by the force of the chain latched onto the heavy collar around his neck cables. The Snake's backplates hit against the floor with a heavy thud and an annoyed growl and kick of pedes as he threw a visible tantrum before the optics of a black and white decepticon.

"At this rate you're going to tear my servo off if you keep doing that." The mech spoke with an oddly cheerful tone as he lifted the chain wrapped around his servo. Clear scratch marks rested on the spots of the chain, a sign, it wasn't the first lunge of the solar cycle.

The words, not registered, purposely, due to Darkfang lifting back onto all fours to crawl forward. Let him go-- Let him run free--!! A crawl on the spot, before he flopped helm and chassis first against the ground. A line of hisses and growls poured out while he rubbed the muzzle latched to his face against the floor. Useless, Useless. AHhgg! So bored! So annoying!

The seated mech nearby ex-vented, and lowered his door wings in clear disappointment. Now, who in the first place would let him of all mech's watch over the beast? Did they forget, he might glitch at any point? Repose thought and shook his helm. Plus, pet sitting wasn't something he's good at.

A Past of Loneliness.

Friends, a common sight among bots. A connection a certain bot rarely thought of. It's not because he didn't want them, no, he didn't have time to indulge in such things. Work, all he knew, from one stealth mission to another. Find information, capture a bot, disarm a bot, save a bot, steal an important object and so on, like a shadow among his peers.

Quiet, always watching, even when bots didn't want him to. Their fault for not being smart enough to look for shadows. He knew more than needed, but he learned to keep secrets. He never tattled about a bot cheating, nor about odd habits, but still, bots talked, made assumptions of him. Flash Vector, the silent weird one.

He'd learned to quieten his voice a long time ago, and kept it hidden within, even when he gained his first friend. They invited him for drinks, and they chatted together, and hang out. A nice bot, always smiling and protected his honor once when a bot talked scrap about him.

But... well, you hear things when you're not meant to be there.

"Hahah, Flash Vector? Seriously? You think we're friends? No, Deus No, the creep keeps following me is all." A laughter, that spread into the group of four. "I should have never invited him for a drink that one time, who knew he'd keep sticking around like a weirdo." The bot continued on, among his friends. His true friends. . .

Hah, right, friends, no, he'd gotten the wrong idea... But how? He'd acted so nice around him, he thought-- Servos curled into fists as Flash Vector sank against the wall. Frame invisible from view, trembling, as he held in the building pain within his chassis. Anger, and disappointment, mixed together like a dangerous ball about to explode.

No no no, it's his fault, he had the wrong idea. He'd gotten too excited, thinking he could fill an empty hole within his mind. A hole that ripped right back open, and the anger locked up into a tiny ball within him, shifting into emptiness. Blank out the emotions, don't let them control him.

Friends, he didn't need them, he only needed his job, his skills, his speed. He's good at that. Friends, pain. Connections, pain. Remain the shadow, like everyone expected him to be.

Flash Vector Drabble. (spicy)

tw. putting Darkfang through the blender (not literally)

Out, he wanted out, let him out. His processors screamed, his frame ached from constant restrains. Dark, alone, forced back into the memories of the past, but worse. At least in the facility, they let him move, but here, stuck on the same spot for ages. Waiting and waiting.

The door creaked, when it slid open. As if called, the bastard showed up. Darkfang growled, and jolted forward, with torn jaws creaking over a small rod of metal. A gag, securely held those dangerous fangs down.

"Aw, you look so happy to see me, that you're nearly pouncing straight into my arms." The arrived Mech beamed, derma spread into a wide curved smile, that caused Darkfang to gag in disgust and glare at him.

"I'm sorry it took so long since the last extraction, you must have been lonely." He apologized with a genuine worry in his vocals.

Lies, Darkfang hissed, and snapped his helm away from the Mech's digits, that petted along his sensitive finials in an attempt to sooth him. A failed attempt that made the Snake struggle with new found strength.

He merely heard a small ex-vent before a force knocked him faceplates first into the floor with a loud clang. Energon burst from his nasal sensors, and processors knocked him into a dizzy spell. Long enough to stun him out of balance, and slowed down his reaction speed as the gag got replaced with a familiar pressure.

"You don't always have to act so mean, you know. We could do this like friends too, without the whole hiding you in a basement kind of thing." Repose, the Mech, roughly petted the back of Darkfang's helm, holding his dentae snug against a piece of metal that rested over a sizable cube. He only wanted his venom, for his bullets, but sadly the Snake refused his gentle offer. So he had no choice but to take it by force. It wasn't his fault, now was it? Oh, it was certainly his fault and he knew it.

The Snake squirmed and huffed, as the pressure heightened until he gradually allowed his venom to flow. A dull sensation hovered over his frame, as the liquid began to fill the cube below. He hated it, so much, it made him feel sick, to be used. Like scrap he'd ever give it willingly to this guy. He could shove the idea of being friends right up his aft. He rather suffer and fight, than give up into his whims.

Uhg, if only he could fight back more... He swore the guy knocked his processors off places too, he barely could keep his optics online... Oh, scrap... Flicker, his frame, heavier, falling, blurry, optics. Couldn't ... stay.... online....