The crash only served to further aggravate Hook, and the snippy Constructicon illustrated this by crossing his arms firmly over his chest plate and turning to glare at the angry Combaticon accompanying his med-bay with him at the present.

"Knocking over my equipment won't get you the answers you're looking for, imbecile. And even if I did know how to help you - knocking over my equipment would certainly put a damper on our arrangement!"

"Don't give me that hoity toity talk, medic!" Vortex spat back, his optic visor narrowed viciously from over the mask which covered the rest of his faceplate.

"Hoity toity!?" Hook bellowed, stepping forward to shove a pointed finger into the darker Decepticon's chest plate. "You forget who it is you're talking with, Vortex - and I am certainly not 'hoity toity'."

Vortex snarled and wrapped his hand, vice-like, around the wrist of Hook's outstretched finger. He was rewarded with a soft snarl of warning from the other 'con.

"Release me you micro-malfunctioning piece of shrapnel scrap, before I get serious." Hook hissed, pulling back on his arm, but the Combaticon held fast.

"I am serious." Vortex growled, stepping closer to Hook and forcing the only slightly smaller Decepticon to back into the table behind him. "You better join the party."

Hook narrowed his optic scope at the threat - clear as day. He reached up and snapped his hand around the wrist of Vortex's hand that was holding his other wrist. He squeezed hard and was rewarded with the slight groan of warping metal.

"If you try anything you small-minded display of indecency, Devastator will stomp you into the ground."

"Devastator is no match for Bruticus, old model."

"Old model? Old model!" Hook shrieked, bending backwards to kick at Vortex's broad chest. The Combaticon simply flickered his optics at his attempt.

"You're going to tell me what I want to know, or I'm... I'm gonna make you tell me!" Vortex continued, leaning forward. Hook swallowed a small hiss as the awkward position put strain on his weary back-plates.

"You can't make me give you information I don't have, you irredeemably revolting degenerate." Hook's vicious snip was cut short by the click of Vortex's mask slipping off and clanking to the floor. The wary Constructicon watched the object settle before looking up into his opponent's visible face.

"No use lying to me, Hook. I know you know how."

"And I've been trying to tell you, Vortex, that I don't!" Hook released Vortex's arm, though his own wrist was still tightly enveloped in the Combaticon's grip. He pointed indifferently towards his own spark, then to Vortex's.

"It's embedded into you; it's not something I can - create! It's like a correl: you're created with it, it's not given to you!" His voice slowed as Vortex tightened his grip on the medic's wrist. Hook held in a snarl; he was not in the mood to make repairs on himself. He wasn't in the mood to make repairs on anybody, in all truth - he was looking forward to a relaxing day without Megatron huffing down his pauldrens about progress on his new 'recruit'. Vortex appeared to have other plans.

"Realizing your mistake, peon?" Hook prodded unwisely.

Vortex felt that familiar ringing in the back of his helm which signaled he was about an arms' length away from over-drive and this time his fellow Combaticons weren't around to stop him. He was going to rip and rend Hook apart - becoming less and less enthralled with the idea of getting the information he'd been seeking, and more and more aroused by the idea of bending Hook to his will. He was easy to outrage, the Constructicon beta, but to really get under his plating and ruffle him? The prospect of making the usually composed and snippy medic scream and beg made Vortex's core suddenly thrum loud enough to drown out the beeping and whining of scattered electronic equipment.

Hook did not like the strange and almost hungry look which began to cross Vortex's exposed faceplate, and the loud thrumming of the other mech's core was only adding to his discomfort. He slowly slid on hand around on the table behind him, searching and feeling blindly for any instrument that might prove useful, while attempting to wretch his wrist out of the Combaticon's grip.

"Release me, Vortex." He growled warningly. ~Do not make me call the other Constructicons.~

~What's the matter, medic?~ Vortex growled threateningly, lunging forward until he thrust Hook back onto the table completely. He grinned viciously as the back of Hook's helm hit the wall as his feet were lifted from the floor. The table was proving quite sturdy.

~Can't take me on your own?~

~Of course I can't!~ Hook snarled, rubbing at the back of his helm as his wrist was released. Pulling as much of an indignant look onto his faceplate as he could under the circumstances, he crossed his arms over his chest plate and narrowed his optics in on Vortex. ~I was built for my central processor's capacity for perfection, not for my chassis' ability to dish out and withstand brute force you fiendish ruffian.~

~Better for me then.~ Vortex snarled, and he reveled in seeing the look of horror which momentarily crossed the medic's face.

Hook was not stupid; not in the least, and at the sake of ruining his reputation, he decided that calling out for help would be the best choice of action, no matter what the torment he would receive for squealing in such a way. Vortex was on to him, however, and it was soon apparent that the Combaticon did not intend to be interrupted.

Hook had nowhere to retreat as Vortex brought his fist down viciously upon the side of his helm. He bent quickly to one side, gasping and shouting in pain as he reached up to deflect the second blow, but his arm was pushed easily aside. The second hit sent Hook's conscious thoughts reeling, his equilibrium gauge shaken and unable to process the blows. Hook tried to focus his optics and reached out for the desk next to him in a pathetic attempt for a retreat, only to feel the weight of Vortex's blunt fist connect with the back of his neck. His equilibrium gauge shattered into thousands of tiny shards and the liquid held within dripped disgustingly through the inner circuitry on his neck. Hook was now utterly helpless - unable to comm for help and far beyond being able to comprehend up from down.

Vortex panted lightly and stepped back as Hook rolled bodily off the table and hit the floor with a loud thud. He looked like a human fetus, writhing back and forth in complete and utter discombobulation. The Combaticon laughed and lifted a foot into the air, watching his prey for a moment before bringing his heel down against Hook's hip and knocking him to his back. He watched the medic power down his optics, coughing and gagging on the fluid from his ruptured gauge as it rose to his mouth. The liquid looked white outlined against Hook's dark gray face, slipping from the corners of his lips back into his helm. The Combaticon laughed once, derisively, and then dropped to his knees to straddle the downed Constructicon.

"Devastator can't help you now." He laughed, optics flaring wildly.

Hook's pain was only marginally dulled by the intense, shrieking alarms blaring in the back of his helm. In any other situation he would have shouted back at them, as he was fully aware of the dire damages he'd just sustained. However his central processor was so wrapped up in the immense pressure on his hips, he couldn't do anything but think on how much he hurt. He'd heard rumors about Vortex's exceptionally Megatron-like sadistic streak, but he'd never assumed he would be on the receiving end of such senseless violence. He longed to reach out and shove the fiery Combaticon off, for logic told him that Vortex was the pressure, but with his equilibrium gauge gone his rationale chip was losing its hold on reality, and he was numb to most of his chassis.

Vortex laughed again, well aware that he sounded glitched, as he watched Hook writhe beneath him. He was fairly certain that he'd completely destroyed the medic's gauge, which meant that any signal he attempted to send to his limbs (no matter how small a twitch) would be instantly encrypted - completely unrecognizable. Vortex was quite sure that by flailing his arms over his head, Hook had been attempting to shove him off. He shoved his legs between Hook's and jammed his knee into the Constructicon's lower panel.

Hook was simultaneously relieved and humiliated to discover that at least his lower jaw still functioned normally - for his mouth fell open in a cry of shock and pain as a hard something smashed into his lower panel. He gasped and fought to keep his optics powered down, knowing visual aid would only add insult to injury, but with all the mixed signals flowing through his mainframe he was fighting a losing battle. His optics flared into life and he moaned deeply as he felt his stomach chamber churn. His frazzled central processor couldn't handle the new data and he was rewarded with brief snatches of a fractured world. He felt the pressure on his lower panel increase - and then unimaginable pain as something blunt (presumably Vortex's fist) came crashing down onto it's center, easily popping open one side as the usually hidden panel warped outward. He let out another fem-worthy scream as the whole panel cover was ripped off and tossed aside.

Vortex smiled evilly at the vulnerable valve, his own panel wide open and ready thanks to the vicious assault he'd already landed upon Hook. He pulled his hands away from the shattered panel and slammed them into Hook's pauldrens, eliciting a squeal of pain and confusion from the medic. This was enough to pop the Combaticon's piece, despite having not yet begun lubricating. He leaned forward until his faceplate loomed above Hook's - and he waited until the pain-dimmed optics found him.

"If you won't give me that information, I'm going to take it!" He watched as Hook calmed himself enough to vocalize, fluid leaking from his mouth and splattering onto Vortex's faceplate as the medic spoke.

"You c-can try but you w-won't find an-nything you s-sadistically simp-plistic factory r-reject." Hook watched, vaguely satisfied as he was able to recognize a sneer of disapproval on his opponent's faceplate. He did not have long to revel in victory, for Vortex decided to penetrate the medic in retribution. Hook could not scream - in fact he found he could not make any sound. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before; next to this the blunt blows he'd been previously subjected to felt like a playful shove. Vortex's piece was viciously cold, so cold that it burned the walls of Hook's valve. Without lubrication the interlocking plates that made up Vortex's piece tore along the sensitive walls and left leaking lacerations in its wake. Hook moaned, at long last, in pain.

Truth be told Vortex wasn't enjoying himself much more than his victim: He enjoyed causing pain to others not himself. Bonding without lubrication was unpleasant for both parties. He felt Hook's chassis shake and quiver beneath him, over-stimulated in the most negative way possible. It was not usually lust which drove him (he mostly tended to follow the urge to cause pain to others rather than to slate his own thirst for mating - though they often went hand in hand) but in order to access Hook's spark he would need to at least pretend to go through the motions. He could have easily ripped into Hook's chest plate to expose the spark (and he would probably still do so once the time was right) but he'd learned the hard way that one could not simply merge into another's spark and gain knowledge without foreplay, as it was. The spark had to be fooled into starting its bonding program. He would have to grind his gears and bear it for now.

Hook wanted to scream. He had never before felt the urge to strain his vocal components until he overheated from exhaustion until that moment. He could feel his body writhing and twitching as it attempted, in vain, to obey his command. His rationale chip was so fried at the moment that he could barely think; he could barely function. He could have been up-side down and in the air for all he knew. He could think of nothing - his central processor knew only agony. His optics began to flicker white and his core began a low wailing.

Vortex was not a patient 'con, which did not often work in his favor. He could only continue his thrusting for so long before he slammed his fist into Hook's chest plate. The medic's body arched purely out of instinct beneath him, but it only made him more eager. He did it again and when he pulled his fist away from the new crater, energon began to pool in the center, gushing profusely from the tiny cracks he'd created. He reached out and thrust the fingers of one hand into the fissures and began to pry the armor apart. Hook's plaintive cries were all but drowned out by the sound of boiling energon in his audios as the Constructicon's chest plate ripped off into his hands.

Hook's body had been preparing for a painful automatic shut-down, but the sequence was put to an abrupt halt as his spark was gruesomely exposed. He fell still as stone, not even permitting himself to breathe as he felt cold air whip around his being. He did not enjoy being forced into bonding, (however much an understatement that was) but this was a new level of low. Vortex was going to be terminated for this humiliation! He would see to it personally - he would crush the Combaticon's spark in his own hand like a flesh-creature's head. If, his central processor warned grimly, he survived. Rape was, unfortunately for most, a seemingly favored past time of the unruly Decepticons, but Hook had never imagined himself to be on the list for an attack. He did not consider himself madly attractive by comparison to other 'cons, nor was he humiliatingly fem-like (such as Starscream), and his position was certainly not worth the effort - so the notion that Vortex was doing this simply because he wanted to settled uneasily into Hook's helm as he tried to relax and prepare himself for the next assault. Vortex had him beat, physically, and there was nothing he could do except stay as sane as possible, and plan for his revenge.

Vortex leaned all his weight onto one hand, still rocking his hips forward to keep up the physical bonding, and poked at the medic's spark with one finger like a curious child investigating a bug. The slightly gold/yellow sphere shot static around his finger, echoing Hook's cry of pain, and the touch sent ripples through the object which signified that the bonding program had not yet begun. The Combaticon watched impatiently as the ripples swirled over the surface of the spark, curved around the back and slowly began to dissolve. Hissing out a low curse he re-adjusted his weight to both elbows and thrust his faceplate at Hook's until he met the Constructicon's lips with a rough and vengeful kiss. He snapped up his right hand to hold the battered helm in place as Hook tried to move away, and he used the distraction to plunge his glossa deep into the medic's mouth.

Hook could hear nothing but the alarms in the back of his helm, warning him that he was damaged and his spark was exposed - never a good combination. He thought bitterly at the alarms that if he could do something about his present situation, he would, but he couldn't. He tried not to gag on Vortex's vicious glossa, exploring his mouth like unexplored territory, and fought back the urge to bite down. As much as he would have loved to do so, knowing it would catch the other completely off-guard, he knew he wouldn't be able to recover in time to escape during the distraction, and he was just sure enough of Vortex's glitched processor to be sure that the Combaticon would terminate him for such an attack. His chassis was becoming blissfully numb to the pain in his lower panel as his mainframe began to quicken towards his spark - a self defense mechanism on two sides: first it would draw energon away from his lower panel and thus leave the extremities numb, and second because all he had was now protecting all that he was. His blissful numbness did not last long, however, for Vortex poked at his spark once more, and the diffused, interrupted flow of energon went spiraling back towards his valve. His back arched of its own violation and he gasped in shock.

That was the response he'd been looking for! Vortex cracked his faceplate into a grin as he pulled away from the kiss to witness Hook's spark wrap eager tendrils around his finger as he poked at it a second time. He snapped his finger away from the curious tentacles, sneering in delight at the sound Hook made in response - a completely involuntary moan of longing. He reared up onto his haunches, momentarily breaking contact with Hook's lower panel, and touched his chestplate eagerly, gently pushing aside the armor until his own spark, a dark gray/blue in color, revealed itself to the otherwise unoccupied med-bay. He heard the medic whimper something like a word and he paused, looking down curiously with a smirk lopsided on his faceplate.

"What was that, medic?"

'Don't.' Hook mouthed, unable to convince his vocal components it was a good idea to make noise. Vortex laughed and leaned close, their sparks close enough to thrum to each other - seeming unaware of the unpleasant circumstances of their meeting.

"Why not? You scared, Constructicon?"

It appeared for a moment as if Hook's vocal components would come online enough for him to spew an insult, but again Vortex illustrated he was in control by penetrating the still dry valve of the medic once again. Hook's back arched so high that his spark's tendrils began to lick at the Combaticon's, eager to join. Hook had never been so furious with his own primary functions. Could the thing that was, essentially, him not sense how bad things were at the moment? Could his spark not pick up on his unwillingness? His fear and pain? He ground his gears and tried to think of something else, but it was useless. He could hear Vortex shifting above him until the Combaticon had them correctly aligned, and then he began the merging.

Vortex was not fond of spark bonding - the merging process made him anxious and the whole thing in general just made things too complicated, but he couldn't deny, no matter how hard he tried, that the feeling of forcing his spark into someone else's was the most amazing feeling in the world, especially when he didn't have to wait for the bonding program, when he could attack as brutally as he wanted to deep in his core. This merging was proving to be one of his favorites however, as the moment the two sparks touched surfaces he was flooded with a raging indignation from the medic, and a sense of overwhelming helplessness. He was so angry - so frustrated! It was spectacular! Every inch of his chassis, of his mainframe, wanted to pull away and completely obliterate Vortex for such an atrocity, but deep down he knew he was no match for the Combaticon, so he was forced to endure!

Hook was not surprised by the emotions he registered waving forth from the Combaticon - glee, superiority, arousal; and was only slightly more put-off when he realized the latter of which had been initiated simply by the thought of 'bending Hook' to the Combaticon's will. He hissed back a strange tingle of painful pleasure as the sparks drew closer together, but smirked through the pain this time. He had a feeling the sadistic Combaticon had forgotten about the bond comm, and he planned to use it to the fullest extent. He powered down his optics, now able to focus on them as his raging central processor calmed into focusing on the bonding, and he found each individual source of pain and made a mental list; his valve, his lower panel, his chest plate, his helm, his spark. Compiling this list he focused on the presence of Vortex within him and fired forth through their new connection, intent on making the Combaticon understand exactly what he was putting Hook through.

Vortex reared backwards, gripping at his helm as if it was the source of the pain. He thrashed his helm back and forth with cries almost too beast-like to belong to a 'con, the blades on his back spinning wildly in pain and confusion. His spark retreated quickly from Hook's and snapped back into it's chamber, pulling his chest plate closed like a frightened human child, pulling the blankets over their head to hide from a nightmare. Electricity licked at the seams on his chest piece, tell-tale signs of a bonding interrupted by a less than pleasant catalyst. The pain was even so much, so shocking to him (as none of his previous victims had tried such tactics) that his piece snapped back into place and his lower panel shut itself off. His vents closed, his optics powered up and his sensors powered down - his chassis was protecting itself, going into a near system lock down in order to do so.

Hook's swell of triumph was quickly over-shadowed and replaced by a mainframe numbing fear. He had not expected Vortex to react so strongly, and even though it had been good to force upon the Combaticon all the pain he'd caused Hook - he was now unable to continue his rape, and Hook was still at his mercy. Unable to achieve his desired victory, it was increasingly likely that Vortex would beat Hook into termination, and there was nothing Hook could do to stop it. He felt his spark chamber burning as his core nearly over-heated in continued fruitless attempts to pull closed his chest plate and cover the sacred object, and his vents opened full flush to stop further damages from manifesting themselves. Hook felt Vortex stiffen and powered up his optics to watch the Combaticon lower his hands. The medic froze - unable to even suck in a breath as Vortex met his optics.

Vortex tensed his whole body so hard he was on the verge of snapping tension cables, but he was so completely beyond infuriated he didn't care. He wanted to rip and break Hook into pieces so small not even a Minicon would recognize him for what he had been. He lifted his hand to deliver a blow to the still exposed spark chamber before him-

"Hook? Are you in there? Slag- it's so scrappin' dark..." A voice, muffled behind the metal of a mask, drifted in through the med-bay doors around the curve of Vector Sigma in the center of the room. "Megatron's been summoning you for hours!"

Vortex let out a hiss and leaned close to Hook, breath snaking across the Constructicon's faceplate.

"This isn't over, Hook!" He snarled, and then swung himself off the medic. He clambered quickly to his feet and ran out through the only other entrance/exit to the med-bay, stooping to pick up his discarded mask on the way.

"Hook? Is that you?" Scrapper continued, turning the corner and frowning at the sight of a few over-turned tables, general disarray. "You know, I'm less than pleased with your lack of response... And why in Primus's name do you have your comm channel off line?!"

Hook struggled to sit up, not a task he accomplished, and flashed his optics. The red pulse from the floor easily caught Scrapper's attention and he stepped to the side and peered at the floor from around a large examination table. His optic scope flared wide as he darted forward with an uncharacteristic show of concern and helped Hook sit up.

"What in Vector Sigma happened?!" Scrapper hissed, scanning the medic quickly.

"V-v-v-vortex." Hook muttered, narrowing his optics. He hated sounding weak, and stuttering like that he sounded like a fool as well.

"Vortex - the Combaticon?"

"The s-s-s-same." Hook sighed and in spite wanting to sit on his own, in spite of the damage it would do to his ego; he collapsed into Scrapper's hands and tilted his helm towards the other Constructicon's chest plate.

"Why?" Scrapper barked, but concern was, oddly enough, in the forefront of his central processor - anger could come later.

"He w-w-w-wanted information I d-d-d-d-didn't have. He d-d-d-decided to try and t-t-t-take it by force."

"Scrap."

"He d-d-d-destroyed my equilibrium gauge," Hook coughed, splattering Scrapper's chest plate with fluid (the other Constructicon seemed not to mind.) "I'm going to h-h-h-have to walk you through r-r-r-repairs..."