London Bridge
Chapter 8
So technically this fic follows a timeline and history that
splices the G1 cartoon and the IDW comic together as it suits me.
his is the last chapter. There will be a sequel. It's... Being rewritten.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.
Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...
Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence
Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash
Hound took over Mirage's care and Cliffjumper saw little of the Towers mech after that. Cliffjumper kept the company of his fellow minibots. Since they universally despised Mirage it was easy to avoid him. He felt guilty. But he also felt awkward and uncomfortable around Mirage. He didn't know what to say to him, what to do with him. It was easier to leave him to someone who knew him better.
"Can't believe Prime's just rolled out the welcome mat for the mech," Brawn grumbled. "And we're just supposed to act like he's one of us."
"Jazz's made him one of his special operatives," Huffer complained. "Acting like it doesn't matter that he's a Towers mech."
"And you know what his speciality is?" Powerglide asked. "Spying. He can go invisible. Probably going to slag us all while we recharge."
"He had to get rescued so he's probably not much of a spy," Gears said. "Unless it was all a trick to get Optimus to bring him in."
Cliffjumper said nothing. He felt as if he was betraying Mirage just by sitting and listening to this conversation. He should have been coming to Mirage's defence. He should have told them how he didn't want to be an Autobot but had been drawn into it. But his glossa didn't work and he remained mute. The only minibots not out to condemn Mirage were Bumblebee, Seaspray, and Beachcomber. They sat silently amongst the detractors as mute as Cliffjumper. Except by staying silent, they weren't betraying someone they had called a friend. They just didn't know Mirage and had no opinion on him.
The other minibots went silent as Hound entered the common room with Mirage. They pretended to look away and consume their rations but when Hound and Mirage's backs were turned, they scowled death glares into Mirage's back. Cliffjumper vented softly and looked down at his cube.
"What happened between you and Cliffjumper?" Hound asked once they sat at a table across the room from the minibots. They weren't really very good at covering their disdain. He felt it and knew Mirage must have as well.
"Other than him saving me?" Mirage said. "Nothing. He hasn't said a word to me since we got here. I've tried but he knows this place so well and just disappears whenever I approach him."
"It must be the others," Hound said abjectly. "The other minibots... He'll come around."
"Ever the optimist," Mirage said dryly. "I don't fault him, Hound. He has every reason to hate me."
"The only reason he has is that you are a Towers mech," Hound countered. "And that is not reason enough. He knows you, you aren't just a Towers mech to him. Trust me, he'll come around."
"Well, I hope you're right," Mirage replied. He took a small sip of his energon.
"You and Jazz seem to have hit it off," Hound said, changing the subject.
"He's a good mech," Mirage said. He chuckled lightly. "He seems to have forgiven me for going to my creator."
"Jazz has kind of tossed the job at you," Hound said. "Are you okay with it? Being an Autobot and having a clear role in the war."
"I'm unsettled," Mirage admitted. "This has all happened too quickly for me but it seems right."
"When do you go on your first mission?" Hound asked.
"I don't know," Mirage said. "The minibots aren't the only Autobot disturbed by my presence. Optimus is trying to pacify them."
"Sorry, 'Raj," Hound said, venting sadly. "You never get a break."
"I'm still functioning," Mirage said with a hint of humour in his voice. "I'd say that is a break."
"You've picked an odd moment to be optimistic," Hound teased.
"Maybe," Mirage said, and shrugged his shoulder in a rolling gesture Hound had once thought was flippant but now saw it as guarded.
"Finish your cube and we can play a game in my berth room," Hound suggested.
"I hope you aren't losing friends over me," Mirage said.
"My closest friend here is Trailbreaker," Hound said. "And with him still recuperating you two haven't met. Actually, I think Ratchet's released him so I'll introduce you two now.
Hound led Mirage through the compound. Ironhide called it the Ark. It was actually a ship that the Autobot used as a base. In case they needed to escape Cybertron, they would always be just minutes from take off.
They paced a few mechs in the hall, all gave them a wide berth. Friendly chatting stopped until Hound and Mirage passed by. It was hard not to resent the thinly veiled hatred and suspicion but Mirage resisted the urge to blame them. He was an outsider. His class was in league with Megatron. Still, the cold treatment stung. They arrived at a door not far from Hound's berth room. Mirage's was near as well, only a door down from Hound's. Hound pressed a buzzer and waited. A light blinked on the door panel and the door slid open.
Trailbreaker looked about the same as when Mirage had first seen him. He was nearly as large as Optimus and entirely black, but he didn't have the aura of power that Optimus possessed. Interesting that he still looked tired. The mech smiled and waved them in. He sat on his berth; Hound directed Mirage to the only chair while he perched on the desk.
"How have you been settling in?" Trailbreaker asked after Hound properly introduced them.
"Well enough," Mirage replied. Hound scowled. Trailbreaker must have seen it.
"The minibots?" Trailbreaker asked. Mirage felt his faceplates heat up.
"They're adjusting," Mirage said, not believing his own words.
Hound made a sound of contempt and vented with frustration.
"It's not just the minibots," he said. "Every mech here, except the officers, would just as well slag him as work with him."
"That bad?" Trailbreaker asked. He gave Mirage a sympathetic smile.
"He'd say it's fine," Hound said, silencing Mirage. "I'd say it's worse."
"I'm the enemy," Mirage said. " I don't blame them..."
"You should," Trailbreaker said gently. "You came to the Academy with Jazz without even taking a stake in this war. I would argue that you've proven yourself to be a good mech. They're just being close-minded and that is inexcusable."
Mirage fidgeted, and Trailbreaker smiled at him before looking up at Hound.
"Not good with compliments, is he?" He asked.
"Not so much," Hound replied. "And forgiving to a fault."
"Well you have another friend here, if you'll have me," Trailbreaker offered Mirage.
"Thank you," Mirage replied.
Hound and Trailbreaker made it a point to never let Mirage take a meal alone. No one joined their table, except for on occasion Jazz and Prowl. The open hostility seemed to have cooled, now the majority of the Autobots simply prevented that Mirage didn't exist. They would cram together at tables leaving those around the one Mirage would be sitting at empty. Mirage feigned indifference. Hound kept his peace.
"Hound's probably facing him," Powerglide said after draining his cube. "That's the only reason he could want him here."
"Bet that Towers mech knows all the moves," Gears snickered.
Cliffjumper opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He stared at the table while his faceplates burned. They weren't... They hadn't... Images of Mirage and Hound grinding together flashed through his processor making Cliffjumper shudder. All the time they had lived together, all three of them had kept separate rooms, and Cliffjumper had never heard or seen anything that suggested that those two were intimate. Mirage's optics glimmered playfully, his smile was beguiling, and he reached out to Cliffjumper...
The red minibot choked on his energon and sputtered. The image of Mirage refused to fade from his processor. He felt far too hot. Cliffjumper jumped up from the table, saying nothing to the others as he fled the common room. His friends looked at each other and shrugged, then resumed their gossip.
Jazz raced into the room and made a b-line for Hound and Mirage. He leaned over their table and grabbed Mirage's arm. Both Mirage and Hound climbed to their feet as Jazz tried to rush them from the common room. The media screen on the front wall came to life, and the news story unfolded. On the screen, the Towers lay demolished over the Crystal Gardens.
"No survivors," the reporter said. Whatever else he said turned into static in Mirage's audios. He gripped the table for balance and hung his head. His whole body shook. The minibots cheared.
"Shut it," Jazz ordered angrily. "Mirage, come with me. Come on."
The room spun around Mirage and he staggered, unable to find his peds. Hound grabbed his other arm and he and Jazz helped Mirage from the common room. In the hall, Mirage found his balance. Still, Jazz and Hound held his arms and did not let go until he was seated on his own berth.
"I'm so sorry, Mirage," Jazz said. "I wanted to tell you myself. Primus, I'm so sorry."
Mirage didn't answer. Hound put his arm around his shoulder and hugged him. If he was saying anything, Mirage didn't hear it. All those people... his neighbours. The sparklings he'd grown up with. He'd sneaked off to play with Hound when he was supposed to be with them. They had said nothing to his creator because, in truth they had not wanted to play with him. When was the last time Mirage had said a word to any of them? Some had taken residence in their own apartments in the Towers, seeking independence from their creators. No survivors...
They hadn't been bad mechs. Most of his neighbours had been self absorbed. But they hadn't warred against anyone. Most had not been like Rollover, despite what the minibots thought. Thousands of mechs lived, had lived in those Towers and while they had all been arrogant, and entitled, most of them had never actively sought to hurt anyone. Primus, when Megatron had angered, they must have hid in their homes, as they always did when there was a disturbance, and Megatron had collapsed the Towers around them, burying them all.
"We'd been hearing rumours that the mechs of the Towers were growing uncomfortable with Megatron," Jazz said. "We thought it was a good sign. Slag. Slag, Mirage, I'm sorry."
"They were probably in their homes," Mirage whispered. "Waiting for someone else to deal with Megatron. They never fought their own battles."
"Slag," Jazz swore again. "I have to return to Prime."
"I'll stay with him," Hound said. "Go."
"You tried, Raj," Hound said after Jazz left. "I know it doesn't feel like enough but you did try."
Jazz returned less than an hour later for Hound.
"I told Prime what you said about the Towers mechs staying in their homes," Jazz explained. "There's a chance that some mechs might be alive in the rubble. We asked for volunteers. Well, Trailbreaker volunteered to look for survivors and I thought you would too Hound."
"Of course," Hound said.
"I want to help," Mirage said. His optics looked bleak. Coolant streaked his faceplates.
"We can't let you," Jazz said. "This isn't the work your model was made for. And, well you may do something reckless. Grief makes short work of sense, or so Prowl tells me."
"I agree with him," Hound said. "You won't be able to do much digging and if you were spotted you would be an instant target."
"There are reports of looting, Mirage," Jazz added. "It's not something you should see. Stay here and grieve."
Mirage wanted to argue more but the thought of looters set him back. Of course, the workers who remained in Helix, the pleasure bots, they would all be looking to improve their lot by digging up Tower treasure. What would they do if they found a mech? He remembered the anger the minibots and other mechs had for his ilk. Mirage felt energon rise in his throat and he covered his faceplates with his servos.
"Try and get some rest," Hound suggested. He patted his friend's hunched back before he left the room.
Only three mechs volunteered to launch a covert rescue. Everyone had wanted to go to the academy. Hound was disappointed but not in the least surprised. Jazz was angry. He wanted to scream at his comrades. These were people! Just people like all of them! They were buried in their homes, scores of them dead and too many of the Autobots relished their deaths. It made him furious. He prayed to Primus that they would take a step back, come to their senses and see what monsters they were becoming.
"Where are you going?" Cliffjumper asked as they rounded a corner. He had not been in the common room when Jazz had asked for volunteers.
"We're going back to Helix to look for survivors," Hound said.
"Where's Mirage?" Cliffjumper asked.
"In his room," Hound said. He paused. "Would you..."
Cliffjumper was already gone, running down the hall. Hound could only hope that he was going to look to Mirage.
"Let's go," Jazz said.
Cliffjumper didn't know what he expected to find or what exactly he planned to do. He stopped at Mirage's door and stared at it for several minutes. After taking a deep breath of air through his intakes, he pressed a button on the door, it slid open, obviously unlocked. Mirage didn't even look up when the door opened. Cliffjumper's spark constricted in his chassis.
Mirage wasn't moving at all, not even trembling. He arms folded in his lap and his faceplates buried in his arms. Cliffjumper took a tentative step forward. His engine rumbled and he covered the rest of the space between himself and the berth in a few quick strides. Still not speaking, he jumped on the berth, laid his arms over Mirage's back and rested his helm between them. Cliffjumper smoothed his hands in circles against Mirage's back. Mirage shivered beneath him, and a sob caught in his throat.
"Sorry, 'Raj," the words seemed paltry. But Cliffjumper offered them anyway.
Hound, Trailbreak and Jazz returned hours later, defeated and drained. They had no time to regroup or rest. Almost immediately after their return, Megatron set his sights on Prime's base, massing his troops around the Ark.
Optimus stood on the command deck with Ironhide at his side and gave the order to abandon Cybertron.
End Fic
A/N Happy ending, yes? The sequel's on it's way. Don't shoot me.