Warning: implications of non-con of the mind control variety
Characters: Mindwipe, Protectobots, Slingshot
Prompt: tf_speedwriting: video prompt, one of those strange men's body spray commercials. :)
Summary: Mindwipe targets Hot Spot
"Protectobots! Transform and comb-" A dark shape dropped out of the sky to land heavily in front of Hot Spot, glowing red optics catching his and making the words falter in his vocalizer.
It felt like he'd been dipped in liquid nitrogen, his joints frozen, and Hot Spot had a feeling like he'd shatter if he so much as moved. The pinpoints of red light seemed to expand until blazing crimson was all he could see.
You don't want to do that, came the thought in his processor, and he found that no, he didn't. He didn't want to... to... what had he been doing? He couldn't quite remember. It wasn't important.
Come here. Well, naturally. Funny - he'd felt frozen in place a moment ago, but moving forward just seemed the most normal thing in the world.
Someone was yelling something... Shh. Oh. Must not have been anything important.
Do you love me? What a ridiculous question. Of course he did. But that wasn't right, none of this was right-
"Who are you?" he asked, half in awe, half in horror.
My name is Mindwipe. But you may call me Master." Dark hands traced fingertips along the edges of his helm, and Hot Spot shuddered, flinching away, the sheer wrongness of it making his tanks churn-
Love me. Hot Spot leaned into the touch, nuzzling at his master's hands. He sank to his knees, optics shuttering, while behind him, faint and unimportant, someone screamed his name.
"Get away from him!" Blades hit the ground running, detaching a rotor to use as a sword. The Decepticon was too close to Hot Spot to risk a shot. Streetwise was right behind him, Groove and First Aid coming up from the side.
"You don't want to do that," the Decepticon said blandly, producing a weapon and putting the muzzle casually against the side of Hot Spot's head. Blades' pump clenched in horror as Hot Spot sighed and leaned into the barrel. "Stop there."
Blades stumbled to a halt, looking desperately over at the others for some idea, some hint of what they should do now, but they looked as frightened and uncertain as he felt. He steeled his expression. He had to be the steady one here.
"Let him go," he said, voice harsh.
"Why would I do that? He loves me," the Decepticon said with cruel amusement. "Don't you, Hot Spot?"
"Yes, master," Hot Spot said, with a tone of awed reverence that Blades had never heard from him. It made him want to throw up.
"Let him go before I rip your face off and feed it to you," Blades growled. Jet engines howled above him, but he didn't bother to look. He had more immediate concerns than seekers.
"I think not," the Decepticon countered. "I think I shall keep him. And you-"
"Look away!" First Aid called. "Blades! Don't meet his gaze!"
What the...? Blades dropped his optics, focusing on Hot Spot instead. "What the frag, 'Aid?"
The Decepticon made a vexed noise, forestalling any explanation from First Aid. He twisted, careful to keep Hot Spot between him and the Protectobots, his gun lifting as he turned. The muzzle leveled at First Aid's face.
Streetwise shouted in alarm, but he couldn't get a clear shot with Hot Spot in the way. Blades cursed and lunged forward, knowing even as he did so that he was too far away.
There was a flash of light, burning past Blades' shoulder, then the Decepticon was stumbling back, dropping the weapon from useless fingers. Hot Spot slumped, bringing a hand up to his head.
Then the Decepticon was gone in a flash of dark wings, leaving a splattered trail of energon behind
Blades skidded to a stop, blinking at the spot the Decepticon had been as the others rushed past him to Hot Spot. He turned sharply at the sound of someone landing behind him, rotor-sword snapping up.
"Hey, easy there," Slingshot said, pushing the blade away from his face.
Blades looked from his brothers to Slingshot and the rifle cradled casually in the jet's arms. Oh. He snapped the rotor back into the assembly, blowing exhaust. "Thanks," he said quietly, without his usual bravado.
"Doing my job," Slingshot answered, just as quietly. His optics drifted to the Protectobots huddled around their leader. "You should get over there," he added. "They're going to need you."
Blades nodded jerkily. "Yeah." But he hesitated, wanting to say something more, make Slingshot understand how much he meant it, what the sniper's shot had saved them from, but the words wouldn't come.
"Thanks," he muttered again instead, feeling utterly inadequate, but the quirk of Slingshot's lips let him know that the Aerialbot heard and understood.
He turned away and ran to rejoin his brothers.