raisedbymoogles (raisedbymoogles) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-11-08 11:11:00 |
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Current mood: | relieved |
Descent into Sheol, Transformers (Unicron/Hot Rod)
Title: Descent into Sheol
Author: raisedbymoogles
Rating: R
Warnings: Violent themes.
Prompt: Transformers - Unicron/Hot Rod - Tentacles - Hot Rod managed not to scream as he was dragged backwards, fingers clawing furrows in metal as he strained to reach the fallen Matrix. Unicron's booming laughter more than made up for his silence.
Word count: 1221
Summary: Post-S3, ignoring S4. Hot Rod takes up his burden one more time, and in doing so falls into the clutches of his greatest enemy. But even in the depths of Hell there may be a light...
Author's Notes: I worry me sometimes. o_O
He'd known something was wrong even before the reports started to come in. He was Primus's Chosen, the god's instrument against the forces that would devour His beloved children, and not even the death of the Matrix could change that. Hot Rod held the Matrix's dormant shell in his hands, searching it again for any kind of clue, already knowing what he had to do and that nothing else would be revealed to him.
The autopilot chirped, and Hot Rod roused himself with a shake and stowed the Matrix away in his chest. Unicron's head loomed in his front viewport - dormant to all appearances, though the reports and Hot Rod's own instincts told him otherwise. He took the controls and settled his shuttle into an orbital pattern far enough from the Chaos god's remains to avoid triggering any lingering proximity alarms. He would spacewalk from here, and enter Unicron's head to see what he could find.
He locked the ship down, looked up and went cold with horror as Unicron's great maw jerked painfully open. A mass of tentacles issued forth from the dead head's mouth, each with a deadly-sharp pincer on the end, and they stretched out to encompass the ship so thickly that Hot Rod couldn't see past them. He dove for the shield controls, but he'd frozen too long. The tentacles ripped the shuttle to shreds, snagged him triumphantly from the wreckage and pulled him into the darkness of Unicron's mouth before he had time to scream.
*
He must have offlined momentarily; the next thing he was aware of was being stretched and probed, pincers exploring the seams of his plating while tentacles held him helpless. It was pitch-dark, oppressively so, the only light coming from Hot Rod's optics. He cried out and struggled, but though Rodimus Prime could have broken free easily, Hot Rod could do nothing. He cried out again as a pincer pried into his chest, crumpling the access hatch, and a rumble of satisfaction purred through the surrounding darkness as the dormant Matrix was plucked free.
"Your predecessor was a fool to destroy this," Unicron said, and the volume of his voice made Hot Rod wince. "Your people's only weapon against me, and he burns it up to stop a mere disease. Pathetic."
The pincer opened; "No!" Hot Rod cried, watching helplessly as the Matrix dropped into the darkness and was quickly lost from sight. Unicron laughed, the sound grating across the Autobot's awareness, and squeezed his prey in his tentacles.
"As for you, Chosen One," Unicron purred, bending the struggling Autobot this way and that like a cruel child's toy. "How delicious. Primus's instrument of light will become the fuel for my resurrection. In this capacity you will serve me well."
"Never!" Hot Rod managed, hurling the defiance into the darkness.
"Foolish, lost child." Unicron's tentacles gripped him and twisted, wrenching him by the neck and arms and ankles in painfully different directions. "I do not require your cooperation. I will take what I want from you, then I will allow you to die."
"No..." Hot Rod shook, more afraid of his words than of the pain. "They will - they'll fight you. They'll stop you."
"They will fight, certainly. But that will cease to be a problem as soon as I take my errant Herald back to task. Then, my Chosen One, they will join you in death." Unicron laughed again, squeezing him until his metal groaned, then his pincers gouged into his chest to drink deep of his life.
This time Hot Rod did scream until he had no voice left, his own energy pouring out of him and into Unicron in gouts of white lightning that lit up the shaft he was in - black and rough and lined with razor-sharp thorns. They gleamed wickedly as he screamed and twisted helplessly. One optic shattered; a hose ruptured and rained coolant down the shaft. And still, Hot Rod screamed, and didn't stop until his energy had drained to critical levels and he had nothing left with which to cry out.
The tentacles loosened around him, cradling his broken body almost tenderly for a moment. It was such a relief that Hot Rod found himself trying to cling to Unicron's tentacles as they slipped away and let him fall.
He hit one of the razor spikes on the way down, the impact tearing his torso armor and spinning him around, but he was beyond feeling until he hit the bottom. Though the damage was severe, he didn't offline - couldn't offline, for in the dim light cast by his single remaining optic he could see the dormant shell of the Matrix lying close enough to touch, just where it had fallen. Hot Rod gasped and reached out to it, pulling it to himself weakly. "Please," he begged it. "Give me light."
The Matrix was silent in his hands, dormant and cold. Hot Rod lay back with a soft cry of despair, and didn't resist when a single tentacle snaked out of the darkness to seize him by the throat.
"Do you understand now?" Unicron asked, his voice like distant thunder.
"Yes," Hot Rod whispered.
"Say it, then. Say what you have learned."
Hot Rod tilted his head back, feeling fluid from his broken optic drip down his cheek. "You're - you're a god. I can't beat you."
Unicron's answering purr turned into a roar of horrified disbelief as the Matrix pulsed in Hot Rod's hands. It was nothing like the blaze it had been before, nowhere near wholeness, but it was enough to encompass the Chosen One in blue light that exploded against the Chaos God's twisted metal hull, blowing a massive crater out of the back of his head and throwing him out of Cybertron's orbit in a blinding flash. Unicron tumbled out of control into the blackness of space, voicing a soundless bellow of rage that quickly died away.
Floating amidst the wreckage left behind, Hot Rod used the last of his strength to clasp the Matrix to him before finally falling offline.
*
A strong grip had him by the shoulders; Hot Rod flailed weakly. "No, Unicron..."
"Take it easy, Hot Rod." It was Kup's voice, gruff and gentle, and Hot Rod risked a look. The light strained his visual processor, but oh Primus thank you he was in his own flagship, the Flame of Primus, and there were Autobots surrounding him - all alive, strong, safe. Kup was holding him steady as First Aid hooked up an energon drip in his arm, and the Matrix, with its tiny newborn spark of light deep within, was lying beside them. "You've got to start taking backup when you go off to vanquish evil gods," Kup added, shifting the younger mech up to rest him against his chest.
"Didn't vanquish anything," he mumbled, trying not to tense as First Aid's gentle hands began to explore the damage Unicron had dealt him.
"Well, close enough, then," Kup answered fondly. "He won't be bothering us for a long, long time."
To his extreme embarrassment, Hot Rod made a soft, high keen, and tilted his face to Kup's shoulder to hide it. Kup sighed and wiped the fluid track from his student's cheek. "You did good. Rest now, lad," he murmured. "Rest."