The Loving Darkness

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by The Librarian, Jul 22, 2005.

  1. The Librarian

    The Librarian Well-Known Member

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    The Loving Darkness

    “Aaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!”

    He screamed. He could not help it. Pain seared through his sensory net, coursing through his system like liquid fire. He felt his right motivator coil tear free of its housing, pulled away from his spasm-wracked body by a remorseless force.
    “Subject response of greater intensity than predicted.”
    The voice was clipped and emotionless, cutting coldly through the fires of agony. He tried to focus on it, tried to call out, tried to beg. Only another broken howl escaped his vocal circuits.
    “Adjusting to compensate.”
    Another voice, as calm as the first but overlaid with buzzing, discordant tones. He felt something take hold of his shaking limbs, rooting itself in his servos. Slowly, his jerks became subdued, the override software holding him down far more securely than the restraints ever could. But it did not halt the waves of pain. It intensified them. Now he was trapped not only by cold metal but also within his own body. Now he had no way to struggle, no way to try, however futilely, to fight. And his screams grew louder.

    “Ssssssstttttttooooooopppppppp! Pleeeeeeaaaaasssssssseeeeeee!”
    “Endurance readings still far above average,” the second voice intoned dispassionately.
    “Clearly. It is as expected.” There was a distant clunk. “Sever connection between component and subject.”
    There was a harsh flash, though his optics barely registered it. Suddenly, blissfully, the pain ceased. Freed from the blazing torment, yet unable to relax his own body, he was left to make a gurgling, sobbing noise.
    “Insert next level of life support.”
    The sudden stabbing sensation in his upper torso hurt. But it was the merest sting compared to what had come before.

    He was barely active now. He vaguely registered the two emotionless voices as they moved away, discussing his endurance, his internal structures, his tolerance to pain. A steady humming, beating sound pervaded to room, the sound of the life support machines. Slowly, crooning softly to himself, he let it lull him into oblivion.


    He reactivated in darkness. But he found that comforting. Light now meant only pain and surgery and further dismantlement. In darkness, they left him alone. In darkness, he was safe.

    It had not been like that when they had first captured him. Then, they had tested his strength, his fighting abilities. They had pitched him into combat simulations, watched him struggle in dreamscapes. Then they had begun to subject him to sensory assaults. Sudden sonic attacks. Blazing heat rays. Freezing blasts. Blinding lights. And every time they had let him heal, examined every facet of his repair process.

    And then, having finally exhausted the external tests they could run, his captors had started to peel his skin aside and claw out his internals.

    He was a wreck now. Most of his main armour had been removed. His torso was a mess of life support units. His arms and legs had been stripped down to his endoskeleton. His transformation centres were scrap. And he knew his mind was failing. He knew he was slowly, so very, very slowly, going completely insane.

    He often wondered what they were doing with all they had found out about him. Were they building weapons based on their research? Poisons? Clones? Was he just a walking blueprint for future developments? Was there no malice in their actions, just scientific detachment? But whenever his thoughts strayed haphazardly down this path, he recalled his treatment when he had still needed guarding. The looks of contempt and disgust he had received from his guards. He remembered the way each and ever one of them had stared at him with just one emotion in their optics: hate.

    They really, truly hated him. And that meant his torture might well never end. Never. Ever.

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    Slowly, he became aware of another presence in the room. Slowly, what vision sensors he had left shifted onto the new arrival. A single, golden optic blazed in the darkness. A voice spoke, the clear, emotionless voice of the first torturer.
    “Are you active?”
    He wondered what would happen if he just did not respond. He was not sure he could face finding out. With a harsh grinding sound, he inclined his head. “Good.” The yellow eye swung aside for a moment, then returned to bore into him. “I want you to understand something.” There was a pause and the eye came closer. “You were taken prisoner as an example of a warrior. We needed to find a way to overcome your army quickly and efficiently. We need to win, you see, before our world can be plunged deeper into the energy drain that had taken hold in the more damaged areas. It seemed logical that to do this would require a arsenal tailored specifically to your troops, not just a constant, drawn out attack with conventional, wasteful weapons.”

    The voice and the eye were very close now.
    “So we took you and dismantled you in the hope that we would find something, anything that we could exploit. We found one or two possible strands of research, but nothing conclusive. However, coupled with the psychological data we have amassed, I am eighty-five percent certain that we will be able to considerably weaken your forces with minimal effort.”

    The eye lent closer still. He tried to speak, to respond to the controlled, precise words.
    “W – whhaarr – hy – arrrr…yh – yh – yh…teeelll…in…me –”
    “Because it has become uneconomic to maintain your life. I did not wish you to die ignorant of how much you have helped us towards victory. And, after all, we must win.”
    The last words were almost introspective, as if the eye was talking to itself.
    “W – w wharrrggghhh…y…”
    The word was getting easier. The response was immediate, almost snapped.
    “Because Cybertron’s future depends on it. Your rule would lead to corruption, stagnation and death alone. Your creed would destroy our race’s future.”

    There was venom behind those words. Or deep, zealous conviction. Something was altering in the life support systems now. They were slowing in their operations. As if sensing this, the eye spoke once more.
    “The stasis field placed around your systems is being deactivated as we speak. You will soon expire. But at least your death will have shortened the war.”

    He could feel the pain returning as the life support relinquished its hold on his networks. He summoned the last reserves of his strength.
    “W – why…do…you…hate…us? Why…do…you…hate…me?”
    The pain surged forward. He screamed, then whimpered. The eye moved back slightly. His vision began to swirl away from him, his mind scattering, his soul blowing into the void. And as he died, as he was welcomed by the loving darkness, he heard the eye’s answer.

    “Because you are a Decepticon.”

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    The Autobot scientist watched the Seeker die. Absently, as he saw the dim red glow finally fade from the shattered being’s optics, he rubbed at his own broken left eye. He would have to get that repaired soon. But it would have to wait until he had compiled and transmitted his last report on this stage of the project. He moved to the door and opened it, the harsh white light meeting his dull red chassis. He paused, then left, his mind full of how he could use their research. He left the Decepticon to be consumed by the darkness. He did not look back.

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    Ok, ok, so it's morbid and has a somewhat unoriginal twist but I wrote it on impulse, late at night, based on the idea that in war, the distinction between good and evil fades away, especially on the scientific front.

    I'm not entirely sure who the characters are. I will leave you to draw your own conclucsions as to what it all means...
     
  2. rebelbot

    rebelbot rebelbot

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    very well made.
     
  3. DaraRex2.0

    DaraRex2.0 I'd totally eat the leaf

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    It reminds me of the beginning to a story I did. Execept it was between a clan of Quintessons and two brother Mini-Cons. I only outlined the details of what they were to endure but it was similar to yours, however, you offered more details and didn't dawdle on meaningless info. It was very powerful, I actually felt for the character, excellent writting.

    Great to read. Great you wrote, I hope to see more of your work
     

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