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Finding the Good Within	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Crossovers Views: 3108 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

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Tormented Souls

Standing next to Shrapnel, Hunter watched as the slaves started to load the last set of boxes. She had returned for more supplies after making a visit to the Decepticons in order to give them the materials that Mirage had stolen from the Autobots. The pay-off on that fulfilled contract had been very, very lucrative. And according to emails she’d received after the fact, Megatron had been extremely pleased with her promptness in completing the mission. This meant she’d get even more profitable contracts from him in the future.

This proved that her decision in purchasing Mirage had been a good one; even if the slacker had just stood by during the whole Motor Master debacle. Hunter ground her jaws together in silence. For the little freager had really ticked her off with his lack of actions, but on the other hand he was acting more ‘Decepticon’ all the time. So she had refrained from beating his aft over it. But she was still determined to pay him back for it, once she got a good opportunity.

Glancing over at the Insecticon, her optics swirled in redder tones as she decided to fulfill her ‘promise’ to Mirage. After all, the pathetic slacker had completed his part of the deal. And if she proved to be good on her word, he’d be that much more eager to complete future missions. “I’m in need of some slaves,” she stated coldly to Shrapnel.

“Slaves, slaves…. We can supply, supply..” he answered.

“Those two, how much?” she asked, turning her back to the two slaves staggering under the weight of the boxes they were hauling up the ramp.

“Hmmm.. Two-hundred apiece, apiece..” he replied.

“High price considering I’m going to have to repair the sloggers,” Hunter grumbled, “one-twenty-five apiece.”

“They are well broke, broke.. Without any chips, chips… one-sixty apiece, apiece..” Shrapnel stated.

Hunter studied the Insecticon. She hated this particular group even more than the others, but the slaggers had some value in doing business with. They hated the main force Decepticons almost as much as the Autobots, Considering those cons beneath themselves. They’d be valuable ‘pseudo-allies’ to purchase materials from as she built the Nation. So she decided not to haggle too long. “Deal,” she said simply and handed him the credits.

------

Strolling onto her ship, she was followed by the two silent slaves. As the hatch closed, she walked towards the bridge, nodding for them to follow her. They kept their optics locked onto the ground as they followed, their demeanors that of total submission. But their optics were already brighter, hope now replacing the dull optics of tortured slavery. She’d been ‘nice’ to them on her previous trip to the Insecticons. When she had gotten their personal oaths of loyalty.. So perhaps she’d continue to be ‘nice’.. Treat them well..

The bridge door slid open with a hiss, revealing what appeared to be an empty command center. “Go sit against that wall,” she ordered to her new slaves. Not even looking to see if they obeyed, she strode up to the pilot’s chair and casually slapped nothingness on the shoulder. “Decloak Shado-Mirage” she ordered.

The two new slaves’ optics brightened slightly as Mirage came into view. He didn’t dare turn around, for he knew that Hunter expected him to follow her orders first. And now that he was the pilot, it was his job to take them back into space. But the heavy weight that had been in his core since his ‘first mission’ as a thief lightened its hold on him. It had been worth it. Those wrecks that the Autobots had written off - now had a brighter future. They would be well-maintained now. They would be free of the tortured existence of living as con slaves. He had saved them – even as he had damned himself to forever living as an outsider. “All engines on line” he reported.

With a strange feline grace, the bounty hunter slid to the sensory consol. “All’s clear, liftoff on three… two…one…”

Mirage pushed a few buttons and then pulled down on the throttle. The small cruiser barely even shuddered as it lifted off smoothly from the surface. Hitting the edge of the planet’s atmosphere, he pushed a few more buttons as he warmed up the warp drives.

“Course, 9 – 1- 3 – 5 Delta, distance twenty five hundred,” Hunter stated.

“Ready to engage warp,” Mirage reported as he glanced over at Hunter. She nodded. “Warp engaged,” he said as he pushed the throttle full forward.

Briefly the main view screen was filled with a blur of stars, and then it settled into the normal scene of super-light travel. “Cruise at warp 4,” Hunter ordered.

As he punched in the commands to follow her orders, Mirage gave a side glance and quick smile to his former comrades. He didn’t care if Hunter caught him in the act. She was still pissed about his lack of action back at the con base, and Mirage knew he probably hadn’t heard the end of that one. So adding yet more fuel to her simmering rage wouldn’t change things much. So he kept up his passive-aggressive resistance to her authority. It was the one thing he knew he’d probably get away with. After-all, she wanted him to ‘act like a con’ didn’t she? And this is what all the lower ranking cons were notorious for doing. Mirage smirked a bit; he was beginning to really understand why those lower ranking cons were so annoying and conniving. It felt good to continually perturb the abusive leaders they had to suffer under; gave oneself a strange sense of control in a life without control.

The two new slaves didn’t look much more than pathetic wrecks now, almost unrecognizable even to him. He felt a sense of true pity for what they had gone through, for while he’d been properly repaired and maintained, even as he was molested and raped – they’d obviously not even had so much as a handful of protective wax given to them, while they had endured the same molestation that he had. He couldn’t believe they could even move as well as they did, from all the dents and corrosion on their filthy armor. But at least they’d get the maintenance they needed now. For their new owner was a stickler for mechs being at full functional capacity.

He silently nodded to his two friends as they staggered to their feet and followed Hunter off the bridge. At least Wheeljack would be thrilled to have his very own med bay/workshop again. It’d give the mech a little of his old pride back. And Grapple? He didn’t exactly know what he’d be doing, but he assumed they’d find a planet well before the Seeker was ready to release the new sparklings. And Grapple would probably get to design and build their first small base. He’d also be thrilled with the work.

Turning back to his consol, Mirage again thanked Primus for sending this hardened bounty hunter to his dimension. She wasn’t half-bad most of the time, As long as a mech followed her orders to the tee. And one day cycle he’d truly stand up to her. When he knew he had a shot at winning. She wasn’t invincible by any means that was for sure.

A conniving grin passed over his face as a stray thought passed through his meta. Leaning back, he chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest armor. With Wheeljack and Grapple now onboard, he had allies. And once they built up their strength, they could work together in order to force Hunter to agree to some basic terms. Sure, they’d all given her their oath of loyalty, but getting her to eventually chill out and treat them with some respect, wouldn’t go against that oath. Yes, Hunter was underestimating the value of teamwork. And Mirage would find a way to use that to his advantage.

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Elation had flowed through Grapple and Wheeljack as they had seen their old friend piloting the ship. He looked very different, but when Hunter had said his name and he had decloaked, it was obviously the old Mirage they had once stood next to in the Autobot ranks. And when he had spoken, his voice merely confirmed his identity. His armor glistened and his optics were the bright blue of happiness. But because of the fact he hadn’t run to them and hugged them with a warm greeting, they both knew for certain that he was still as much a slave as they were. But from the looks of him, their new owner was not a terrible one, and she would give them what they needed to repair themselves and get the orbit cycles of grime layers off. So despite the fact they were still enslaved, their optics slowly brightened.

She led them down the central corridor to the fifth door on the right. As it slid open, Wheeljack couldn’t help but give a little squeal of excitement. Before their optics was a small, but completely outfitted, repair bay. Hunter turned at his excited squeal, her optics narrowing slightly as she saw his brightened optics. Nodding to the two, she gave a simple command “Get yourselves repaired properly; I do not like my mechs in your condition.”

Wheeljack glanced up at her as she strolled past, he couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” he said softly to her retreating back.

She heard him, but kept on going. She didn’t care to continue looking at the pathetic slaves until they had properly repaired themselves. Then perhaps, they’d look halfway decent.

---

“Did you see how good Mirage looked?” Grapple said excitedly as he helped Wheeljack remove the last of his protective armor.

Wheeljack nodded as he turned to help his friend start to strip off his armor as well. “He’s sure in good shape, but did you notice the paint change?” he said. His optics had lit up to a bright blue. The first time they had sparkled in many orbit cycles.

“Yes, looks good. But I noticed he’s removed his insignias,” Grapple answered. Banging against the front of one of his leg panels, he knocked some of the rust off and got that latch to finally release.

Working on a stubborn latch along his friend’s back, Wheeljack nodded his acknowledgement of the missing insignias. “Well can you go back and look our old comrades in the optic after all that’s happened?” he asked.

Grunting in disgust over a latch that just wouldn’t release because it was so heavily corroded, Grapple just broke it and stripped that piece of armor off. Sighing, he stopped for a moment and glanced at his best friend. “No, can you?” he asked, his voice filled with the pain of shame.

Stopping for a moment, Wheeljack met Grapple’s sad optics with his own. They knew each other’s shame so well, having stood next to each other throughout. Though they had been just friends when they’d been first captured, the torture and agony they’d suffered through together had made them even closer than either had even been with their own bond mates so long ago. “No, I don’t think I could ever look Ratchet in the optics again.. You know…” he replied, his voice breaking in a sob.

Grapple turned around, his own optics filled with energon tears. He pulled his friend into his arms and for a few minutes they wept for what they had both lost.

“You know, we’d better get busy, I don’t want to make our new Mistress angry,” Wheeljack whispered as he calmed his sobs. He’d seen the Hunter once when she was angry about some ‘pathetic con’ ticking her off, and he sure didn’t want her to get mad at him. Pulling himself out of Grapple’s embrace, he helped his friend remove the rest of his armor.

Grunting a little bit as he struggled to work yet another heavily corroded latch open, Grapple sighed in disgust. They were both total wrecks. There was no reason that the Hunter should’ve even been interested in them, unless….. “Do you think Mirage talked her into purchasing us? There’s no other reason she’d have bought us, don’t you think?” he asked as he glanced up at Wheeljack.

“True, she’s seen us for several astrocycles now and has never given either of us so much as a second glance after she used us for release,” Wheeljack agreed. He pulled hard one another stubborn latch, getting yet another section of horribly corroded and dented armor off of Grapple.

Removing his final piece of armor, Grapple tossed it in the pile and sat down on one of the exam tables with a thud. Although he was completely naked along with Wheeljack, it didn’t seem to bother either of them in the least. In fact, it felt good to finally remove the filth of the long captivity! “Perhaps after we get our armor reconditioned, we should remove our insignias too?” he mused.

Wheeljack wandered over to the side of the med bay. Punching a few codes, the wall slid open to reveal two vats of strong cleaning solvent. Walking back over to their piles of armor, he began to fill his arms up. “Ya, guess you’re right. Wouldn’t be good for a bounty hunter to have a bunch of obvious Autobots riding around in her ship – would it?” he said to Grapple.

“Especially since she takes contracts from anyone,” Grapple agreed. Standing up, he began to assist Wheeljack.

Turning around, Wheeljack met his friend’s optics with a serious look. “So it’s agreed then? We remove our insignias,” he said softly. Not really wanting to believe his own words, but knowing that he couldn’t bear to face Ratchet again after he’d let so many cons bond with him.

Sadly, Grapple nodded his agreement.

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Finding the Good Within