Discoveries - TF OCs

Breakbeat wasn’t really surprised when he was sent out in the battle, a standard issue blaster in the hand that wasn’t modified to turn into a sound disruptor when he was in battle mode.  After all, he was a glitched mech and like many other soldiers, he was just cannon fodder, ignored if he survived and mourned briefly if he died.

The small mech winced when an explosion happened near by, not ducking quick enough to avoid all of the debris but just in time to miss the larger chunks of material that the poor planet was made of.  He didn’t like this.  He wasn’t made to be a warrior.  If anything he could have been a spy but he never went through the training for it.  The best he could do was aim his weapon and shoot.

He winced again as rocks rained around him and he started violently as a mech jumped into his area, not seeing him.  Both weapons were pointed at the other mech as Breakbeat took a few steps back until his optics widened.  The green helm and the shoulder armor was highly familiar, something he watched every day.

“Breakshield?”

The green mech stiffened and turned, his optics brightening.  “Breakbeat?  I didn’t know you were here!”  The both of them ducked down as someone shot towards them.  “Sucks that we meet back up on the field though.  Which commander are you under?”

“I don’t know.  I was sent out before I could be told anyone’s names.  I…”  Breakbeat trailed off as he caught sight of the shoulder of his friend as Breakshield turned and fired his weapon.  His energon froze as a purple emblem glared banefully at him and Breakbeat aimed his weapons at the green mech once again.

Breakshield looked over at Breakbeat when the red mech had stop talking and his optics flickered between the weapons and Breakbeat’s face.  “So you’re an Autobot.  Always thought you were too soft to be anything else.”  Breakshield sneered when the smaller ‘Bot did nothing.  “You can’t even shoot your enemy at point blank.”

A noise of distress left Breakbeat’s vocalizer and his hands faltered, lowering his weapons slightly.  Breakshield used that moment to attack, his hand lashing out and connecting with Breakbeat’s face, the lens of his optics shattering under the force and falling to the ground as pain lanced through his processors.

He didn’t know what happened after that.  Time only moved in short spurts that were filled with pain, darkness, and silence.  Some times he was coherent enough to feel the difference in the ground under him, rough terrain changing to smooth rock and back to the jagged material that tore at his armor.  Pain radiated not only from his optics but from his left shoulder too, right over where the Autobot symbol was given to him.

Breakbeat eventually online, the pain dulled to a constant ache, with no clue as to how long he was out, stolen away from the battle.  While he didn’t know how he got every injury, the stabbing pain in his processors spoke of forced uplinks, Decepticons getting into his mind to pull out any useful information that they could.  Joke was on them, though.  No one told Breakbeat anything and maybe that was how he got here, fresh air brushing against his face but no sun warming his armor, probably left to offline outside where the rest of the junk was taken.

Breakbeat pushed himself into a sitting position, crying out in pain from the pressure placed onto his left arm, and laid back again what felt like a rock, his vents struggling to get air in.  The noise should have alerted someone that he was still alive and at first nothing happened.  Then gentle fingers touched his face, startling him into jerking away.  The fingers didn’t touch his face again, but took a hand and wrote out in Cybertronian glyphs, Do you have a way to see?

Breakbeat pulled his hand away and carefully touched his own helm, searching.  It should have came out the moment his optics stopped working…  He found a shard of optic glass jamming the mechanism and the moment that was removed, his visor slid out and activated, allowing him to get a good look at the mech in front of him.

Silver optics peered up at him in worry, a frown on the mech’s light gray face.  Three audio finials decorated each side of the dark blue helm and Breakbeat relaxed when he saw a bright white Autobot emblem in his chest, easily standing out from the dark armor.

“Where…”

Safe.  Away from the Decepticons.  You’re optics and arm looks badly injured but if you get some energon in you, you should be able to make it back to base.  We’re not far now.

“How did you know I can’t hear?” Breakbeat asked softly, looking around to get some bearings but failing when he recognized nothing.  The blue mech handed him a small ration of energon and while it didn’t bring him to full energy, it was enough for him to stand on his own.

I don’t.  I can’t speak outside of internal communications and Sparkling-like noises.

Breakbeat’s optics flickered in surprise at that but he didn’t comment on that.  Instead he said, “I’m Breakbeat.”

Nightstryke.  Keep close, speed is our priority at the moment.

Breakbeat just nodded and fell in behind Nightstryke as the smaller mech moved out, surprised that the blue mech was even shorter than himself, probably coming up to only his shoulders at full height.  He stayed behind the smaller ‘Bot, keeping on the look out for Decepticons that would possibly follow them but he didn’t have to worry.  They were far enough away that there wasn’t any movement in the light of the planet’s double moon.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach their allies, apparently closer to the base than Breakbeat thought.  By this time, he was stumbling, small rocks tripping his feet up, and he leaned gratefully against Nightstryke when he ducked under his right arm to help support him.

Nightstryke almost had to carry him to the medbay where there was a medic waiting for them.  Nightstryke stood beside him as the medic placed him onto the berth and began the repairs, first on his optics and then on his left arm.  He must have offlined for a while because when his optics came back online again, he saw that the medic and Nightstryke were arguing and it only took a few moments of watching the medic to know what it was about.

“It’s all right,” Breakbeat said quietly.  “None of the bases I’ve been to have the right components for repairing the audios of my type.”

The medic looked guilty at Breakbeat’s words and Nightstryke’s scowl and quickly left when he was sure his patient was stable.  Nightstryke watched him with calculating silver optics.  “Your audios shouldn’t stay malfunctioning like this,” he said over a private comm. channel.

The taller mech shrugged.  “The components needed to repair my audios are expensive and the military doesn’t want to spend the money on it or spend the time of fixing them when I function just fine without them.”

Nightstryke grimaced and shook his head, apparently about to say something but stopped as his head tilted to one side, a gesture that usually indicated that he was being contacted.  The scowled deepened and he gently held Breakbeat’s hand palm up to write out his message.

I wish to stay here with you for a while but I have been requested for a mission.

Breakbeat gave the tiny mech a smile and slowly wrote out on his palm, I understand and wish you a safe journey.

Relief shone in those silver optics and Nightstryke surprised him by leaning over and pressing his lips gently to Breakbeat’s cheek and Breakbeat could feel his lips move with the words of, “Keep safe,” before turning and walking out of the room.

Light blue optics watched him leave and warmth filled Breakbeat as he thought, I have a friend.  Nothing was able to drag him down for many orns after that.  But there was one pain that wouldn’t leave him no matter how much he thought of his new friend, and that was the one of losing another one to the enemies.