Title-less response to Alone
A title-less response to Rin’s Alone
All of her ratings and disclaimers apply.
Just a note, this is probably future spoiler stuff (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ
So many times he’d heard those sounds. Pain-filled moans, screams of agony, the sounds of mechs begging to be left alone, begging to be let live, begging for death?
How many times had those cries issued from his own vocalizers?
Far more than he could count anymore.
Far more than he wished to remember.
And yet, he could still remember it all.
The mental strain as they physically tore you apart.
He would never forget the imprints they left, no matter how many times his chassis was reformatted or even if his memory core was wiped clean.
Even if he had escaped death, she had marked him as her’s.
He could still remember her clammy digits on every cable in his chassis, even in his dreams.
Destroying what he was and rebuilding him for her own use and to claim others for herself.
Gold-white optics snapped open with a flare of terror.
Anywhere but Styx!
He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to scream at the top of his vocalizers till they produced only static.
He wanted to run, to get away.
He wanted to purge, not just his tanks, but his frame too. Everything that had been warped by her all-encompassing, destructive servos.
He liked his life! He liked his chassis! He didn’t want to be reformatted! He didn’t want to die!
But he was trapped. The darkness collapsing around him, pinning him just as the Traitor’s Wheel had.
Not physically, perhaps. The only physical hold was his servos pinned to his side by his unconscious turning while in the depths of recharge.
But the mental hold she had on him was as strong as ever.
He was trapped just as the organic creatures he’d once helped to eradicate.
Trapped like he’d been when the Autobots had attacked him and he’d run.
Trapped like a mech before the terror-of-a-thousand-names.
Backstruts to the door and the mech standing in them.
As if still peacefully asleep.
As if he could even manage to sleep after something like that.
The one-time computer technician could hear him in the doorway. Hear his steady venting. His own auditory systems were so far into overdrive he could almost believe he heard the very spark beating in the jet’s sparkchamber.
But perhaps that was the shriek of his own he was hearing.
He wanted to reach out. Beg the other to come over. Beg him to hold him till he could move again.
He couldn’t even open his mouth.
Couldn’t even protest as the other mech turned and walked back down the hall, leaving him alone again.
Alone in the all-consuming darkness.
Alone with styx.