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The Choices We Make	By : Breech_Loader Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Het - M/F Views: 1348 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

Chapter List
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~~~

The Choices We Make

By Harley Quinn hyenaholic

~~~

Me: I was encouraged to write further on Hotwire’s background, with the reviewer pointing out it was the ‘belief versus duty’ and ‘the world is grey’ parts they liked.

Yeah, it’s not a one-shot anymore. But you thought the first chapter was full of difficult choices? Hell, that just made Hotwire value her function. Wait for the choices in this one. There’s more Triage, but this is a different kind. As ever, there’s mechs who’ve not been in Animated yet, and some who haven’t been in G1 even... but that’s what I went for.

Please note, it’s still about how Hotwire became so goddamn messed up, and it’s still going to be first person for a while yet. You don’t like that? Push off. This one was written to Pain by Three Days Grace.

~~~

Chapter Two: Pain

The designation’s Hotwire.

But you knew that.

Right now, I’m on a battlefield near Kaon, a Decepticon city. It’s not the first battlefield I’ve been on, and it won’t be the last. Right now though, there are injured mechs all over the place. They’ve been killing each other again, and I don’t need to see them to remember that all this offlining is my fault.

What’s really important is that I repair as many of them as possible. I’ll never repair enough, because I’ll never repair them all. But knowing you can’t succeed is no excuse for not trying and simply allowing more mechs to offline.

On the bright side, I’m not the only medic here. I can see other Medi-bots repairing other mechs, both Autobots and Decepticons, repairing the Autobots right here, and taking the wounded Decepticons to prison hospitals. So, at least I have less work awaiting me.

So anyway, now that there are Medi-bots working on both Autobots and Decepticons, at least it’s not just Decepticons I have to repair right now. An Autobot Triage Officer has already gone around with the red, yellow and green tape and marked mechs. That makes it easier, because now I don’t have to choose.

But this is a heavy battlefield situation. It’s not like the battlefield tents, when the battle’s over. This time, it’s not the most severely wounded mechs who are treated first. It’s the mechs who need the least repairs who are supposed to be fixed up first.

But I can’t help but notice that all the Decepticons are marked with green tape, no matter what the state of their injuries, so they'll be left until last.

And once again, voices are crying out for help.

“Medic! It hurts! Why are you just LEAVING me?!”

“No... I’m not a Decepticon, you can’t just leave me to offline...”

"Wait, I can still fight! Please!”

It’s like a nightmare, but I’m not in recharge. It’s like the Inferno, but I’m not offline. And these are Autobots making these choices. Making the choice to help the walking wounded so that they can fight some more and kill some more. It’s a choice you have to make to win a war but it’s so... so...

I analyse every word I know, every language I have uploaded, but there is no word I can use to express what I believe is happening. Does what I believe even exist?

Oh well. Time to get to work.

There are lives to save, and I do not have to take orders from the Autobots to save the walking wounded. So this time, I work backwards to what I am supposed to, and save the green tape mechs first. The red tapes are already being repaired.

Meet my first patient. He’s an Autobot who’s been green taped. In this situation, that means he’s almost offline. He’s already rebooting from lack of Energon, and he’ll offline in a matter of hours. I have some Energon with me, but not much, and I can hardly ask the Autobots for more once I’m out of it.

Well, it’s hardly as if I can deny him it when it could make a difference.

I scan him. His designation is Roadbuster, and according to his profile he enjoys the action this war involves. He’s heavily armed too, possibly more so than most of the Autobots I’ve ever repaired. I feel kind of sick. But of course it’s not his fault, or anybody’s. He was programmed that way, on an assembly line, just like almost everybody else on this battlefield.

Except, of course, for the freaks, who are individuals for some reason or another. A mess-up on the line, a construction by an individual, a personality modification at some point, there are lots of reasons you can be a freak.

Time to get to work. I hook up the Energon and start welding him back together again. Even as I work, little bit by bit he’s rebooting. Eventually his optics open a little and he attempts to focus on me, the oil no longer trickling from his mouth, the Energon no longer sparking from his chassis.

“Who...” he manages.

I don’t want him to know my designation. Or to recognise me ever again. It would raise too many questions at some point. He might even end up thinking I’m a good person. Now he’s not so close to offlining, I can cover his green tape with some of my yellow tape. With a little luck, he’ll get the help he needs as a Priority 2.

Moving on quickly, almost running away from that mech, my next patient is another Autobot called Skids. Not as heavily armed, and not as heavily wounded, but still left as a treat for the Cyber-Vultures. His left leg is so badly shredded at the knee that it’s only holding by a few wires, and he’s whimpering in pain.

“Don’t... leave me...” he whispers, “Don’t want to... offline alone...”

“You’re not going to offline,” I tell him, and get to work. Since he’s not in reboot as deeply as Roadbuster was, he can feel it more, and starts wailing in pain. It’s tempting to put some tape over his mouth so that he doesn’t draw attention this way, but I don’t. I just start the difficult work on his knee joint with my welder.

“I thought... red tape... but nobody came,” he hisses in pain.

“Don’t talk,” I keep working. I don’t need or want to have a conversation with this mech. It’ll slow me down, and he might expect me to stick around and repair him entirely. Even after his knee joint is repaired and his leg reattached, he’s still too weak to fight or walk, but now I can change his tape from red to yellow.

“Th-thankyou...” he stammers weakly, “Who are...”

I don’t stick around to acknowledge his thanks or answer his question, but leave him without looking back. He’ll survive now.

I find another red taped Autobot. I’m about to start more work, when I realise that he’s not just Priority 3 by Reverse Triage standards, he’s headed for Expectant. There’s no point wasting my time or my Energon on him; it’s not going to save him from offlining. He’s been left for too long already.

He’s just online enough to turn and look at me, pleading, but he can’t even speak by now. It’s a relief really, because there wouldn’t be any point even then, when his chassis is shredded and his spark is showing through the wound. I just take out my Cybertronian Pistol and aim.

I start arguing with myself in my head again. I’m here to repair red tapes when nobody else has the time. If I just try, he might still be upgraded to Priority 2. But his parts will be needed elsewhere, and chances are he’ll offline anyway and the longer I stand here arguing with myself, the worse it gets.

I fire once, and pick up the body, ready for use on another.

There’s dozens more just like him, mechs I’m unable to help here who are in agonising pain who can’t be repaired. Autobots and Decepticons alike; I have to pull the trigger for every one of them, in order to be able to use their parts for those who can be saved.

And every time I fire a shot and see another corpse, I remember. The reason they’re on this battlefield. The Decepticon who is responsible, and the femme who is responsible for saving his life. And it’s all my fault. I only wanted to help people. But they do say that the route to the Inferno is paved with good intentions.

For some reason, choosing to put these mechs out of their pain – permanently - is easier than choosing to repair Megatron was. While I’m working, I try to think about why that might be. Maybe that’s normal. Or maybe it’s not normal and I’m going insane. Maybe it’s just me getting better at offlining people.

But no matter what the reason, something tells me that this isn’t as bad as it’s going to get. So I keep working, keep carrying out my function. It’s all I’ve got.

Not that there are any less mechs to repair. I upgrade the status of every one that I can, with no absolute certainty that they will be saved by their own side anyway. But nobody can save everybody. I know I can’t.

One of my examples is a red taped Decepticon – whose condition really is red tape instead of some kind of ‘leave him until later; he’s a ‘con’ system that the Autobots seem to be using at this moment. Designation, Fistfight. When I come across him, he is tearing at the red tape on his arm with his teeth to try and get it off and replace it with some yellow tape he must have stolen from an Autobot.

But his damage is still extensive, and I cannot just leave him here to offline. Besides, right now I’ve got some parts I can use on him. He’s missing an arm and half his shoulder, and there’s some appalling damage to his legs.

He glares at me as I kneel down, “Freakin’... Autobot... what took you so... long?” he asks.

I feel like asking him what’s taking him so long to offline, but he’s not worth the time to argue with, or to inform him I’m not an Autobot, so I just move on to repairs and think about something else while he complains.

So, it’s not easy. It never is. Work hard, die tired. Work easy, die dead. Same thing. But he’s losing Energon at a terrible pace, and I need two more mechs here to help me but I daren’t ask for help; they’ll ask too many questions...

He seems to know he’s going to offline. He looks at me, “You can’t do it,” he says, grimacing, “You’re going to give up...”

“Fail, maybe,” I reply, “Give up? No. Hold on, there’s some parts I’ve got here, I can repair your red injuries, just-“

“Don’t leave...” he hisses painfully, “Don’t... alone...”

I don’t stop working. If I can just patch up all these failing fuel lines in his arms he’ll stop losing Energon and then I can start on his legs and...

“Don’t... leave... me to...”

He knows. And I’ve tried everything but it’s not enough. It’s another body I’m responsible for. But not just yet. So, trying to work with one hand, and taking his hand in my other, I try to do both as Energon trickles from his mouth.

The light in his optics goes out, and his body turns grey. And now he’s just another corpse.

I sigh, take those of his parts that will still function, and move on. That hurt. It actually hurt. Looks like I’m lucky enough to still feel that kind of pain. Ha! Lucky. There’s still red tape mechs on the battlefield. I’m about to move on to another one nearby when he shakes his head, trying to shoo me away with the stump of one arm.

It’s too late for that. There’s an explosion that leaves my audios ringing, and a very painful moment later I’m on my back screaming and clutching at my face, which is burning. I’ve just... I’ve just trodden on a mine. My leg hurts, but that’s nothing to the amount of shrapnel in my face and chassis right now.

My visor has been shattered, and the pieces have cut into my face. The heat from the blast is melting the blue plexi-glass, and the shards are melting into the cuts and I can’t see with one optic and the other is cracked. My right leg is shredded. Oh, and I'm screaming. There’s a Medic-bot approaching me though, with rolls of coloured tape in his hands. Grimacing in pain, I am capable of raising my left arm, and he applies some tape before moving on.

I just about have the strength to bend my elbow enough to squint at the tape with one cracked optic.

It’s red.

Why did this happen, anyway? Whose fault is it? It was an Autobot mine – it must have been, this is Autobot territory. But I was treating mostly Decepticons. If those jerks hadn’t attacked, I wouldn’t be here. But that’s the thing. If I hadn’t come here, doing my function, I wouldn’t be here. But if I hadn’t come here, people would have offlined.

I don’t want it to be my fault. There are enough corpses on this battlefield that are my fault. I have enough to blame myself for already without blaming myself for my own offline.

Still, if I offline, I can’t try and mend what I’ve done. But what can I do now?

I squint at the tape. Still red.

Oh well. Time to get to work...

~~~

Pain,
Without love,
Pain,
I can’t get enough,
Pain,
I like it rough,
'Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all...

~~~

Me: Yeah, that’s pretty much what Hotwire once meant by having to fix herself. Although natch, she didn’t do it entirely on her own. Just saying that now. So, Review!
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The Choices We Make