Shadows Without Light 2

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

 Verse: Bayverse
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: noncon/dubcon, sticky
Characters: Vortex/Barricade, Ironhide, Slingshot

“It’s time,” Vortex said, prodding Barricade with one foot. Making Barricade recharge folded up on the floor like this was, Barricade knew, just another little gimmick of his. Just a reminder of Barricade’s status as non-being. Just a trick, Barricade reminded himself. Just like Vortex’s little habit of standing close to him so the smaller mech would feel every bit of Vortex’s greater height. Reminder of your place. 

Your place. You don’t have a place. You don’t even have a ‘you’. 

Barricade pushed to his feet, clumsily, because Vortex stood, as usual, close enough for Barricade to bang into. He ended up sliding his back up the wall, wincing as it scraped the edges of his door wings. He did not bother to ask what it was time for: if Vortex wanted him to know, he’d tell him. 

Vortex nodded, his masked face giving away nothing. An advantage he had, he said, that he could cover any emotion—things Barricade had to consciously try to freeze, to tamp down, simply wouldn’t show on Vortex’s masked face.

“You ready?”

“Probably not.”  Vortex expected an answer. And Barricade knew if he’d said ‘yes’, it would have been the wrong answer. He’d been with Vortex that long that he could already start spinning out possibilities if he’d said yes—anything from a physical beating to more of Vortex’s special brand of surgical verbal belittlement. 

Vortex exhaled a laugh. “You’re even fun when you’re trying not to be fun.”

“So glad,” Barricade muttered.

Vortex grabbed him roughly by the narrow struts that held his arm tire. “You’d better be,” he snarled, all of the amused humor drained from his voice. “The minute you stop amusing me, Barricade…?” He let the sentence dangle in unspeakable possibility. It worked at the same time that it didn’t work. Barricade knew by now Vortex could fill in that blank in ways he didn’t want to think about. For all his ‘intelligence’, Vortex always sneered, Barricade was desperately limited in creativity.

The hand released his tire. “We’re going to your first interrogation.” Vortex said. 

Barricade wanted to protest. He hadn’t learned a damn thing. Except humiliation, and pain, and rage. And how not to show them.   Useless. He’d make a fool of himself. He bit down on his emotions, forcing his face still, aware of Vortex’s scrutiny.

“You look worried, Barricade,” Vortex said, his voice picking up just a hint of the condescending singsong tone he used to really goad Barricade. Barricade forced his systems down, setting the actuators on his facial expression routines to zero. “Better.”

Barricade followed him obediently. Vortex extended his stride just enough that the smaller mech had to scramble to keep up. Again, deliberate. You are small, and pitiful. Vortex drew up short outside a holding cube. “Ready?”

“No.” Fuck it. Let Vortex beat him down. He didn’t care. “I don’t know a fraggin’ thing what to do in there.” His hands balled into fists. Not aggressive, just…a channel for the energy he knew would otherwise leak across his body, his face.

Vortex turned. Took in the tight fists. He swept out with one hand, slamming Barricade’s head against the bulkhead. He waited with supreme patience as Barricade straightened up, his optics resetting. “Then you haven’t,” he hissed, “been paying attention.”

****

Barricade stepped into the room, acutely aware of Vortex’s bulk behind him. The prisoner sat in front of him, cuffed to the chair. He had no idea—no idea what to do. His optics raced over the datascanner’s information, desperate for clues—time, location of capture, demeanor during capture…nothing he could figure out how to use. It was like opening a book in a foreign language. 

He felt two pairs of optics on him, expectant. Say something, you fucking moron, he yelled at himself. It was, he thought strangely, his own voice. Not Vortex’s for once. “Name?”

“Frag yourself.”

“Interesting name.”

The Autobot glared at him. “On the fraggin’ intake form,” he snarled. “Primus, you’re stupid.” Barricade felt Vortex’s gaze sharpen on him, waiting for a response.

“Yes,” Barricade said, softly, “I am stupid.” It was rote by now, the humiliation worn down from a sharp cut to a dull abrasion. The Autobot blinked at him, surprised. The Autobot’s opinion of him was irrelevant. Or less relevant than Vortex’s. “Ironhide,” Barricade recalled from the datascanner. 

“Amazing. You can read.”

Barricade kept his face stony. The repressed rage that had been building in him for…decas now, wanted to TEAR itself from him, to strike that smug Autobot’s face so hard one or both of them lost parts. He understood—maybe—where Vortex’s well of anger came from. A similar well had been drilling itself in him throughout this whole ordeal. “Yes,” he said. His processor froze. He knew nothing except what was on the scanner tag. Which would elicit the same response. “Where are you from, Ironhide?”

The Autobot laughed. “Fraggin’ useless.” He looked over Barricade’s head to the red glow of Vortex’s optics. “You expect him to get anything out of me?”

“He might not, but I’m getting plenty,” Vortex said. The Autobot’s mouth clamped shut. “Go on,” Vortex prompted.  

“What was the purpose of your mission?”

Ironhide swore. Barricade’s processor raced.

“How many mechs were with you?”

Nothing but a contemptuous glare.

Barricade felt Vortex’s presence behind him, almost like a weight pressing into his back. No. No. Frag this. He didn’t know what to ask. He hadn’t a clue what he was doing. Vortex had taught him nothing and he was failing—was that the whole point? Another exquisitely drawn out reminder that he was stupid? That he needed, deserved, shame? Deserved to look like a fool? Was that the whole point? The rage boiled within him. He fought it down, reaching instead for…something to prove him wrong. Some way to short Vortex’s plan. He would not be humiliated. He would find something out. 

What did a military unit need to know? Plans of the enemy, of course. Their strength, weaponry, morale. Routes, ambushes, traps. Amount of ammunition. Ability to mobilize. Oh frag, he didn’t know what he was doing. He teetered on agony, acutely aware of both sets of optics on him. What order? Quick! What order to ask? What was most important? Aerial capabilities? Ground forces? He felt his capacitor race—that both mechs could probably feel it, too, hear it, sparking across its connections. He had no idea. No…fragging…idea.

“How do you feel about getting caught?” he blurted.

The Autobot tried to lunge at Barricade from the chair, snarling with fury. The chair teetered before the cuffs jerked against their braces and he fell back down, venting deeply, optics pinpointed in rage. “Get him out of here!” he yelled. “You get him out of here or I swear to PRIMUS I will find a way to kill him!” 

Talking about Barricade as if he wasn’t there. Barricade desperately tried not to be there: pull himself mentally far away. He could hear Vortex’s shrug. “You act like I should care if he’s dead?”  Barricade knew Vortex wouldn’t care. Beyond having to find someone else to ruin. Vortex stepped forward, “What have we learned?” he asked, in that taunting, mild tone.

Barricade froze. Nothing. Of course. He had learned nothing. Only that he knew…nothing. “Nothing,” he muttered. Fine. I admitted to failure. 

“Not nothing,” Vortex’s tone was hard. “I know you’re stupid, Barricade, but even you can figure this one out. What’s he doing that you’re not allowed to do?”

Live. Breathe. Think for himself. “Emotion.”

“Yes. And here’s why.” Vortex turned to Ironhide. “You know what? I’m going to keep him here, just because he pisses you off so much.” Vortex leaned in closer. “I kinda like you pissed off, Autobot.”

The Autobot tried to hold his hard glare, but it crumbled under Vortex’s bland visor. Somewhat of a relief to Barricade, that he was not the only one who failed in front of Vortex. “Shut up,” Ironhide muttered. 

“So,” Vortex said. “How DO you feel about being captured? Tell me,” his voice got silky. “Did you surrender? You don’t look very injured.” 

“I was unconscious,” the Autobot snapped. 

“Ooooohhhh,” Vortex said, as if enlightened. A little over-the-top, Barricade thought, but it signaled to the Autobot that he’d let something slip. The ‘bot clamped his mouth shut. “Well, I guess it makes sense,” Vortex added. “You certainly don’t look like the type who’d surrender willingly.” He eyeballed the Autobot with the same intrusively grating stare he used on Barricade. “Look like a real warrior, actually.”

“I am a real warrior,” Ironhide spat. “Surprised you desk-humper would even know what one looks like.”

Vortex tilted his head to let the insult slide right off. Barricade had seen enough of Vortex’s combat record to know better. He expected Vortex to retort, but instead the larger mech only said, “Yes, well, I do get around. And one of the things I occasionally see is a real warrior. Now, the question is: what’s a real warrior doing with the Autobots?”

“Shut up.” Ironhide, Barricade could see, was fighting with his anger. Unlike Barricade, he was losing.

A sore point, Barricade thought. He watched, as Vortex pressed onto it again.

“That’s what happens, isn’t it? You’re the only one with any military bearing and the real leader on the ground and…you get knocked out of action and bam, they surrender on you.”

“Didn’t know any better,” Ironhide muttered.

“Must be frustrating,” Vortex said. “You know. Not their first rodeo and they still just…collapse under pressure like that?”

“Shut up, ‘con,” Ironhide scowled. “Don’t need sympathy from you.”

Vortex shrugged. “Not sympathy. Not really. Just think, if they hadn’t have wussed out, we wouldn’t be having this wonderful little chat.” He waited for Ironhide to fume. “But honestly. Trust me,” he looked pointedly at Barricade. “I know what it’s like to be saddled with all the responsibility.”

Ironhide’s lip curled in contempt. But at Barricade, not Vortex. “Can he even fight?”

Vortex laughed. “Not that I’ve seen.”  Barricade forced himself stone still, but fury and shame ate like battery acid into his systems, gnawing at his thoughts. Vortex cast an unreadable glance over at him, and shrugged. “You know the type, though. Think they’re tougher than anyone. You must have run across his type before.”

Ironhide snorted. “Yeah. Sometimes it seems the whole fraggin’ Autobot army’s full of ‘em. We got this kid, so fraggin’ scared he runs his mouth all the time. Like if he shuts up he won’t remember he’s alive. And the complaints. All the time.” 

“Well, at least I can’t complain about that,” Vortex said, lightly. “This one never complains. Do you, Barricade?”

Barricade knew a response was expected. “No.” Why did he play along? Why didn’t he fight? He had the rage. He was losing the ability to care about the consequences. Just once…just…sink your talons into his neck. It would be worth…anything. But no. He didn’t fight. He took this methodical shaming instead. Why? Because…he wanted to learn. He wanted to figure Vortex out. Beat him at his own game. Do something to him that would make this—all of this—seem small. Pay him back. Become the weapon Vortex was. 

“He knows better than to complain,” Vortex explained. Barricade felt Ironhide’s optics rake up and down him. 

“Yes,” Barricade heard himself say, softly. He bore Ironhide’s scorn. What did he matter? What did any of this matter? Survive and then…beyond survive.

“He’s annoying in other ways, though,” Vortex said. “So stupid, you would not believe. You have one of those?”

“Frag yes,” Ironhide sad. “Explain something to them, how many times?” A frustrated sigh. “Like I was telling one of those idiot twins once, you know, neutronium’s so fraggin’ hard to transport and you’d think they’d know that by now and stop using it for every demo task?” He cut himself off.

Vortex laughed. “Oh you think YOU have the monopoly on that kind of thing? We have mechs that see EVERY problem as having an exploding solution.” 

Ironhide gave a one-sided snort. “Haven’t heard that one in ages.”  He looked up at Vortex with a little more respect. 

“Well, at least you didn’t have those guys with you this mission, right?” Vortex joked. He dropped easily to a squat, optics even with Ironhide. See? We’re friends. 

“Frag no, thank Primus. They were Kup’s problem this time. Nothing interesting enough to blow up.” 

“Better him than you, right? Did you have the complainer this time?” 

“Yeah and he more than made up for it.” Ironhide clammed up, optics skimming from side to side, trying to figure out if he spilled anything. 

Vortex straightened up, stretching. Partially showing his freedom of movement compared to Ironhide’s, but also, distracting him from that train of thought. “Sorry,” Vortex said. “Gets so BORING, this job, sometimes. Run my mouth talking shop just because I found someone else who gets it, you know?”  He looked showily over at Barricade, and sighed heavily.  “Not exactly a great conversationalist.” 

Ironhide snorted, his posture in the chair loosening. “Yeah, can see that. How’d you get stuck with him anyway?”

“Orders. You know how the on-highs get.” Vortex leaned back against a table. 

“Oh yeah.”

“Supposed to try to make something of him.” Vortex shook his head. “I don’t know, though. Now. You could probably do something with him, but…I’ve been off the field for so long, I think I might have lost my touch, you know?”

“I don’t think you ever really lose it,” Ironhide said. “Just…harder to enforce discipline if you’re the only one on board.”

“Ah yes. We know all about that, don’t we?” Vortex shot a sly look to Barricade. What the frag was Vortex complaining about? He was…lying. He had to be. “Still, I don’t envy you. Autobots aren’t known for being disciplined.”

“It’s a problem,” Ironhide admitted. “Pull together under fire, though. Enough to keep you lot at bay.”

Vortex nodded, granting a point. “Yes….until you’re knocked unconscious. And then…?” He shook his head. “Your second in command kind of dropped the ball on that.” 

“Probably too busy stroking his own ego to even notice,” Ironhide muttered. 

Vortex tilted his head abruptly, as if he were receiving an internal comm. He pushed off the table. “Ugh. Higher ups. I’ll be back later, Ironhide, to continue this. And hey, maybe next time I’ll actually remember to ask you some questions.” 

Ironhide snorted at him as Vortex pushed Barricade out of the room.

****

“There was no comm,” Barricade muttered.

“No. You want to learn? Tell me what you learned.” 

“You get off on humiliating me.”

A laugh. “Just now figuring that out?” Vortex ran one hand over Barricade’s chassis, snickering as Barricade clamped down on his revulsion. “Why would I do that in front of him? Ask yourself.”

“Don’t know.”

“You do know. Why?”

“You could both make fun of me.”

Vortex prodded him. “Exactly. Any bond the interrogator makes with the prisoner is progress.” 

“Complete waste.”

“Was it? Nothing’s ever wasted, Barricade. Think what we learned, intelligence wise.”

Barricade skip-played the last few cycles through his processor. “He’s equal in functional rank with Kup.”

“Yes. There’s a huge discipline problem. He doesn’t even like his own team—the complainer, the demo-obsessed…twins, right?” He waited for Barricade’s confirmation. “He has issues with his second in command. He has problems with authority—you saw how quickly he agreed about the ‘higher ups’. He hates that he got surrendered and wants to blame someone—probably that SIC—for that.” 

Barricade considered his list. “None of this is actionable. Waste.”

“NOT waste.” Vortex grabbed Barricade’s chin, forcing their optics to meet. “We have the rest of the team. Who do we go after next?”

“The SIC?”

“Why?” Playing teacher.  Barricade fought a strange stir of jubilation. He had actually learned something. That one day, Vortex would regret.

“This one can’t mask emotion—if he hates him, he’ll know about it.”

“Good. And speaking of that.” Vortex leaned in. Barricade stiffened, hearing the mech’s mask retract. “You were so angry,” Vortex whispered. “I could feel it.” His mouth grazed Barricade’s throat. “I want that from you. More than your pitiful submission. Give me that, Barricade.”

****

Vortex took Barricade right there in the hallway, pushing him back against the door, hands greedily roaming over the small grounder’s body, fingers seeking out the gaps between plates, curling around the metal possessively. Barricade fought with himself—Vortex wanted him to fight back. Which meant if he did, he’d be giving Vortex exactly what he wanted. How do you resist when resistance is what your captor wants? 

He gave in, tilting his head back, baring his throat, arms limp by his sides. Vortex took the throat as an invitation, biting hard enough to rupture a fuel line, his power core thrumming at Barricade’s involuntary stiffening. 

“Fight me,” Vortex whispered, pulling away just far enough to snap open his interface hatch. “You can do better than this.” His hand went roughly to Barricade’s hatch, scraping against the valve cover. 

“I can,” Barricade said, tightly. I won’t, he added silently. He gritted his optics shut. Get it over with. He shifted his legs farther apart, allowing Vortex’s fingers freer access to his valve. Give in, get it over with.  

Vortex growled, “You’re boring me, Barricade.” He thrust two fingers into the smaller mech’s valve, optics keen on Barricade’s face, waiting for the reaction, waiting for the pain. Barricade had practiced that blank expression a little too well: his face was impassive, his only response an imperceptible tightening of the plates around his mouth. Vortex stared at him a long moment, then laughed. “Taught you a little too well, haven’t I?” He leaned in and his voice got dark. “No matter. I can still feel your rage, you know.” He rocked his weight down, then up, impaling his spike in Barricade’s valve. 

Barricade bit down a whimper. The lubricant was a cold shock to his valve, and the sudden thrust blazed his nodes to raw life. Vortex grinned at him, twisting his hips against the smaller mech, the spike turning in his valve, as if seeking to seat itself deeper in. Barricade concentrated all of his effort in controlling his face—he felt his systems helplessly respond to Vortex’s spike, the valve nodes beginning to build an overload charge. 

Vortex murmured, “Hate me all you want, Barricade.” He clamped his hands over Barricade’s shoulders, his fingers spread around the mounts for Barricade’s shoulder tires. “I get off on it So. Very. Much.” He began thrusting hard and fast into the valve, and Barricade realized that this part, at least, was true. Vortex was shivering with lust, driving into Barricade like an animal seeking some sort of desperate release. 

Vortex grunted as the overload seized him and Barricade could not stifle the high whine of ecstasy as the overload rippled over to his systems. He hated that he could not control his body. But maybe…maybe he could find a way to control Vortex.

**

“Right,” Vortex said. “Ironhide’s second. What do we know about him?” He was acting as though…as though the last half-cycle hadn’t happened at all, even though Barricade could feel the cooling wetness of his transfluid trickling down his valve. 

“Slingshot. One of their gestalts.” Barricade was a little confused: Vortex suddenly treating him like an equal. Right. Don’t fall for it.

Vortex grinned knowingly. “Means he’s crazy.”  Barricade wasn’t about to argue that. “He flies, huh?” 

Barricade nodded, curtly. He was on guard, still. Moreso because they were back in Vortex’s quarters. His de-facto quarters, since he’d been unable to leave since he reported. Here is where he should be afraid. He had appalling memories of just about every square inch of this place. This was not a place to let his guard down.

Not that there was a place he could.

“What else do we know about him. Think.” And suddenly it went from a conversation to a catechism again. 

He thought. “Ironhide didn’t seem to think much of him.” 

Vortex nodded, patiently. Barricade didn’t buy it. “And…? So how do we use that?”

Barricade frowned. “I don’t know. Dammit, you haven’t taught me anything!”

“Haven’t I?” A challenge. Vortex’s mouth quirked in a smile. 

“Fine,” Barricade glowered. “Depends on if he knows that Ironhide doesn’t like him.”

Another nod. Almost of approval this time. “And how do we find that out?”

Barricade studied the readout. “I don’t think Ironhide’s much good at hiding his feelings,” he speculated. “Odds are he has to know.”

Vortex folded his arms across his chassis. “Lesson time, little mech. We have mechs who hate each other.” He paused to grin winningly at Barricade. “Does it affect how they work together?”

Yes. Obviously, Barricade thought. But he knew what Vortex was asking. “No.” Combat mechs traditionally hated each other, and it seemed one accrued more hate the higher up the hierarchy one climbed. Until…say…one was Starscream.

“Right. We use that, because we account for it. So two combat mechs can hate each other’s internal systems and they’ll channel it into competitiveness. A desire to show the other up. Now.” He grinned. “Autobots like to pretend that hate doesn’t exist.  According to their philosophy, harmony is the natural state of being. And everyone gets along and holds hands and sings songs to each other. Completely nauseating. You’d be bored to death, Barricade.” He winked. Barricade kept his face tight.  “So they don’t have any way to utilize it when it crops up.”

“So?”

“So.” The smile faded, and Barricade was back to feeling stupid. “They hate each other, we exploit it.” 

“How?” 

The visor’s gaze was hard and level, but the mouth was smiling. “Wait and see, little mech.” 

**

The Autobot was shiny white and red, and met Vortex’s gaze with contempt the instant the grey copter walked through the door. Vortex’s mask was retracted. Barricade slunk in behind him, but he could sense the feral, hungry smile Vortex must have. He ranged himself against the wall. The last thing he wanted was another round of being downed by Vortex in front of a prisoner. 

“Slingshot, right?” Vortex dragged a chair over and dropped into it. “Everyone’s talking about you.”

“I’m sure they are.” Slingshot looked unflappable. More of this ego stuff, Barricade thought. Seemed to Barricade that if this Autobot got any more ego, he’d explode. Which…might not be such a bad idea. Barricade took an instant dislike to him. Fraggin’ narcissist. 

Vortex leaned in. “You know they hate you, right?” 

Slingshot snorted. “I don’t care what they think. Useless slaggers.” 

Vortex laughed. “Yeah. You should hear what they’re saying, though.” 

Slingshot faltered. “I don’t care,” he repeated, lamely. 

“Why not?”  Vortex tilted his head. Feigning interest. 

“It is of no interest to me what they think,” Slingshot said, hotly. 

“Not even to laugh at?” Vortex sat back. “I gotta tell you, lot of mechs hate me.” He tipped his head back over his shoulder, peering at Barricade between his rotors. “Right?” Barricade glowered. “Me?  I love hearing what they say about me. Jealousy, envy, the whole batch.” He crossed one ankle on his opposite knee. Open posture, Barricade realized. Radiating that he was totally relaxed. 

“Well…what are they saying?” Slingshot said uncertainly. Barricade could see him, visibly, attempting to imitate Vortex’s confidence. But he didn’t know the body language cues. It looked…stupid. Too much chin tilt. 

“Mostly,” Vortex shrugged, “the whole flier thing. Wow, a lot of your teammates are jealous about the flight thing.” 

“Huh. Of course they should be. You should see them. Even the ones who can fly can’t touch me.” Slingshot’s optics shot disdainfully at Barricade, and settled himself in his seat, turning toward Vortex, as if shutting Barricade out of his existence. 

“Really? You don’t look that fast.” A little bit of a goad, which Vortex softened with a show of open palms. 

“Speed,” Slingshot said, hotly, as if this were an ooooold point of contention for him, “isn’t everything.”

“Don’t I know it,” Vortex said. “Maneuverability is way more important than sheer speed. You know what I like? I like watching the fast guys screw up and overshoot a target. Nice.” He grinned. More of that bonding with the EPW. 

“Exactly.” Slingshot puffed up a bit. 

“That Ironhide, though.” Vortex rolled his optics. “He has it in for you.”

“Ironhide!” Slingshot spat. “Stupid grounder.”

“Redundant, there,” Vortex joked. “All grounders are stupid.” Barricade braced himself for the inevitable dig. It never came. Slingshot’s optics shot in Barricade’s direction, expecting the same. 

“Have you talked with Ironhide?” Slingshot asked, his optics sly.

“I tried to.” Vortex shook his head. “Don’t know how you can work with the mech.”

“Tell me about it. Thinks he knows everything. Almost got us all killed out there, you know?”

Vortex leaned back. “Actually, all I heard was his side of the story. Pretty skewed, I bet. He blames everything on you.”

“Blames me!” Slingshot practically shook with fury. “He’s the one who knows fraggin’ nothing about aerial combat. Not even close-air-support. But would he listen to me, do you think?”

Vortex smirked.  “Guessing not.”

“And you know, he’d’ve had us all die out there. Thank Primus he finally got knocked out and I could be sensible about it.” 

“So,” Vortex said, leaning forward again, “I’d love to hear the real story.” 

**

“Tell me what you learned,” Vortex hissed, thrusting Barricade against the wall with one powerful arm. “I want to hear I’m not wasting my fragging time with you.” He leaned in, his optics keen on Barricade’s face. Looking for fear. Wanting to see fear. 

Barricade didn’t oblige. “Exploited his hatred.”

“More.” Vortex’s hand was hard against Barricade’s shoulder, squeezing into the top of the frame. 

“More bonding. But against grounders.”

“Stupid. Obvious. What was your purpose there, Barricade?”

“Nothing. I’m useless.” Something Vortex was always telling him.

“No.” Vortex looked frustrated: his voice got that edge. “Triangulation, Barricade. If there was just the two of us—the Autobot and I—we’d be opposites. Adversaries. Having a third, and a grounder, and a quiet one, throws that binary opposition off-kilter. Enemy…and something else.”  

 Enemy, Barricade thought looking squarely at Vortex. And something else.

 

Comments

[wicked3659.livejournal.com]

This was so dark and foreboding. Vortex really does have a tight grip of control over Barricade doesn't he, yet we can still see him resisting in his way. I enjoy that he's still teaching him as he goes, you can see each method he uses on the different personalities, it is quite fascinating.

Very grim stuff and yet I am unable to stop reading, I really keen to see how this all turns out for Barricade and whether or not he will get one over on Vortex.