Smoke and Mirrors: Playing with Fire

[anon_decepticon]

Title: Smoke and Mirrors: Playing with Fire
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Inferno/Breakdown, various Autobot cameos.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers.
Warning(s): Slash, sticky, gratuitous porn
Summary: G1. Inferno has agreed to meet secretly with Breakdown. Will he be able to let him go again?
Author's Note: Inferno's POV. My attempt to answer this prompt (my ninth!) and also the sequel to “Smoke and Mirrors: Crash and Burn,” which is in turn the sequel to “Smoke and Mirrors: Moth to Flame”. If you haven’t read them, you probably should do that before you read this one. There will be a part four, which will finally finish off this monster. Special thanks to kookaburra1701 for her input and assistance.



Breakdown was late.

Inferno had arrived at the designated coordinates at the agreed-upon time, expecting to find the Stunticon waiting for him as he had been in their previous two encounters, but after several kliks of waiting, Breakdown still hadn’t appeared.

Inferno had run a long-range scan, and then a second, more intensive one, the sort normally used only when patrolling in known hostile territory. Both had come up empty. There was no trace of Breakdown’s energy signature.

Unless Megatron had devised some new form of cloaking technology for his troops, Inferno was alone. His only company was a distant bird circling overhead – not Laserbeak, he’d checked – and an insect chirring somewhere beneath a clump of creosote.

Inferno fidgeted nervously, a growing unease stirring in his spark. Was Breakdown not coming? Had the Stunticon changed his mind about this little rendezvous?

It would probably be better for both of them if he had. If someone were to find out that Inferno had agreed to meet secretly with a Decepticon – to interface, no less – he could only imagine the response it would provoke.

Inferno didn’t think either of them would be deactivated for it if they were caught. The Autobots didn’t practice capital punishment. The Decepticons did, but Breakdown was part of a gestalt, and would therefore be considered too valuable to terminate.

Still, it was a massive risk. He shouldn’t even be here; it was insane that he’d agreed to come at all, let alone that he’d actually showed up.

Maybe Breakdown had decided it was too much of a risk.

But that didn’t really jibe with Breakdown’s personality, given his previous actions. Ambushing a pair of Autobots on his own, approaching one without a weapon drawn…no, it was evident that Breakdown had little fear of Autobots.

Or at least, very little fear of Inferno.

So maybe it wasn’t that Breakdown was afraid to come. Perhaps he had simply decided Inferno wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’d found someone else to obsess over, someone from his own faction.

The thought caused a small ache in Inferno’s spark. The reaction surprised him. If anything he should be relieved, should count himself lucky that fate had intervened and solved the problem for him, preventing him from taking what was undoubtedly a very unwise course of action.

But the reality was, it hurt. It hurt just a little to consider the possibility that he might have been replaced. Abandoned, forgotten, tossed aside like so much scrap.

Maybe it wasn’t that Breakdown had decided not to come. Maybe something had happened to him. Inferno hadn’t been commed, hadn’t heard anything about Decepticon activity, but Decepticons fought amongst themselves almost as much as they fought with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown had gotten into a fight with one of the other ‘Cons and been too badly damaged to come and meet Inferno. Perhaps he’d even been deactivated. The thought made his spark clench.

It troubled him that he actually cared.

To be honest, he’d been looking forward to this meeting. He was somewhat ashamed to admit it, even to himself, but it was true. He’d been avoiding Red Alert ever since their…falling out. He’d been avoiding everyone, really. Every ‘Bot he met seemed to be judging him, staring at him with accusing optics. They didn’t say anything, but he sensed that they knew. He felt as if his guilt had been inscribed on his faceplate for all to see.

He desperately needed someone to talk to.

Breakdown would probably listen. Breakdown wanted him. He didn’t mind that Inferno was a monster. He knew the truth, and he’d still asked Inferno to meet with him.

Except he was late. Maybe not coming at all.

Inferno was about to give up, about to transform and return to the Ark in defeat, when the distant whine of a high-performance engine reached his audials. A vehicle was approaching at high speed, a rising plume of dust marking its approach.

The Lamborghini braked a few meters short of his position, slipping into a sideways drift to finally skid to a halt almost directly in front of the Autobot. It was an impressive maneuver, one that required considerable skill – Inferno could never have pulled it off in his own alt mode – yet the Stunticon performed it blithely, making it look effortless.

Breakdown transformed, turning to face him.

“Where the frag were you?” Inferno demanded, more sharply than he’d intended. “I’ve been waitin’ for over a breem!”

Breakdown's smile of greeting faltered. Apprehension flickered in his optics.

“I was – Wildrider and Drag Strip saw me leaving; they followed me. I had to lose them first.”

“Are you sure you lost them? They’re not going to show up here, are they?”

Breakdown shook his helm. “No. I’m sure.”

Inferno nodded, mollified. The truth was, his spark had surged with relief at the sight of the Decepticon, and Breakdown’s showy entrance had caused his core temperature to jump several degrees.

Breakdown regarded him warily. “Are you going to hurt me again? Because I was late?”

Inferno winced inwardly, a pang of guilt shooting through his spark.

“No,” he replied. “No, I’m not.”

A degree of tension he hadn’t noticed before eased from Breakdown’s frame in response to his words. “So you’re going to do it the good way?” he asked hopefully.

Inferno fought to suppress a smile. The Stunticon’s enthusiasm was almost…cute. “Yes.”

Violet optics watched him as he moved forward, alight with anticipation.

Inferno began by stroking Breakdown’s faceplate, tracing its contours and then running his thumb across the Decepticon’s lip components. Finding them hot to the touch, he leaned down to capture them in a kiss.

Breakdown pressed into him with an eager whimper, returning the kiss hungrily. When Inferno probed with his glossa, Breakdown immediately welcomed it, opening his mouth to accept the deeper kiss.

Retracting his nozzle, Inferno reached for Breakdown's shoulder-tires with both hands, dipping his fingers into the wheel wells and tracing the rims, never breaking the kiss.

Breakdown moaned into his mouth, arching against him in response to the stimulation of one of his hot spots. Inferno felt his core temperature spike in response to that sound, his spark beginning to pulse with the first stirrings of desire.

It was easy to pleasure the Stunticon; he was so eager Inferno hardly needed to touch him at all, and he seemed to share most of Red Alert’s hot spots, besides.

Don’t think about him, Inferno thought, quickly quashing the memories that arose in his processor as he recalled the places Red liked to be touched. Focus, Inferno. You’ve got a mech right here who wants you, think about that.

Gathering himself, he returned his attention to the task at hand. It got easier once he started concentrating on the ways that Breakdown was different from his former lover.

Breakdown’s wheels and spoiler were every bit as sensitive as Red Alert’s, but his grille – which Red Alert lacked – also proved to be highly responsive to direct stimulation. Inferno ran his fingers back and forth across it repeatedly, delighting in the soft gasps and whimpers his efforts elicited, sounds he had to dial up his audials to hear – Red was so much more vocal! – and the way Breakdown arched into his fingers, silently pleading for more.

Pleased by the enthusiastic response, Inferno turned Breakdown in his arms so that the Stunticon was facing away from him, embracing him from behind. Continuing to slide his fingers back and forth over the slats of Breakdown’s grille, Inferno rumbled seductively into his audial and revved his engine hard, sending a barrage of powerful vibrations through Breakdown’s sensitive spoiler, pressed tightly against his chestplate.

Breakdown stiffened against him with a breathy cry, his own engine giving a sharp, startled rev as a series of tremors ran through his frame, rattling his plating. The sudden burst of heat and crackling electric surge that emanated from the Decepticon left little doubt as to what had happened.

Inferno couldn’t believe it. Breakdown had overloaded from his touch alone! Inferno hadn’t so much as laid a hand on his panel, let alone his interface array, and yet–!

The realization made his engines give an involuntary rev. None of his previous lovers, not even Red Alert, had ever overloaded from mere frame foreplay. The fact that Breakdown had might have been due to his relative inexperience, but that didn’t make it any less flattering – or erotic – to Inferno.

Later, he resolved, he would teach Breakdown how to touch him, show him all the special places Inferno liked to be touched, but right now it was hardly necessary. His core temperature was nearing its limit, a simmering charge steadily building in his circuits, his cooling fans spinning futilely at the peak of their capacity.

Judging from the heat pouring off his chassis and the way he was panting through his intakes, fans cycling noisily, Breakdown was in a similar state of readiness, in spite of his recent overload.

Inferno eased him to the ground – not a difficult task since Inferno was presently supporting most of his weight; Breakdown could barely stand – and promptly joined him there, his hands immediately going to the Decepticon’s knees and urging his thighs apart as his panel clicked open, his spike extending to its full length.

Breakdown’s vents gave a startled hitch. Inferno looked up at the sound, and was surprised and disturbed by the look of alarm on his partner’s faceplate.

“What’s wrong?”

Breakdown was staring at his extended spike with obvious apprehension. “I don’t like this part,” he said quietly.

Inferno was baffled. “What d’you mean? I thought you wanted this.”

“I do, I just – I don’t like this part,” Breakdown explained. At Inferno’s questioning look, he clarified, “It’s going to hurt. I don’t like the part where it hurts.”

Glancing down at his extended spike, Inferno understood. The realization caused a sad, sinking feeling in his spark. He had only himself to blame. The entirety of Breakdown's interfacing experience could be counted on two fingers, and both had been with Inferno, who’d regrettably been less than gentle on both occasions, at least when it came to penetrating him. It was only natural that Breakdown would conclude that the act itself was always painful.

“It won’t hurt,” Inferno reassured him.

Breakdown looked dubious.

“It hurt the first time because you still had the factory seal over your valve,” Inferno explained. “Every mech starts out with one. Breakin’ a seal is always a little painful, but it’s worse if your partner isn’t careful. I didn’t know you had a seal, so I didn’t know to be careful. That’s why it hurt.”

Breakdown eyed him suspiciously. “What about the other time?”

Inferno sighed through his intakes. “That was my fault too. I…I started before you were ready. I’m – I’m sorry about that.”

“So it doesn’t always hurt?”

“It shouldn’t ever hurt, if you’re doin’ it right. Maybe a little if you rush things too much, but most of the time if you’re in that much of a hurry, you don’t mind a little pain along the way. The part that comes after makes up for it, y’know?”

“I guess.” Breakdown still looked slightly doubtful, but appeared to be at least somewhat reassured by Inferno’s explanation.

“I’m not going to hurt you like I did last time,” Inferno assured him. “Not this time, not ever again. I promise.”

Breakdown regarded him silently for a moment, as if gauging the Autobot’s sincerity. “Okay.”

Sensing he was still uncertain, Inferno tried another tack, “Would you like to touch it?”

Breakdown looked hesitant.

“It’s all right,” Inferno said. “Go ahead.”

Tentative fingers reached for the quivering spike, gingerly brushing the tip.

“Here,” Inferno said, taking Breakdown’s hand in his, guiding it to the base of his spike and wrapping his fingers around it. “Like this.” He showed him how to stroke slowly up the length of the shaft and back down again, then released his hand so that Breakdown could attempt it on his own.

He did so, haltingly. Inferno moaned softly in response; a slight exaggeration, but he wanted to reassure the younger mech. Breakdown looked up at the sound.

“That feels good?” he queried.

“Mmmm,” Inferno affirmed, a faint hint of static lending an uncharacteristic huskiness to his vocalizer.

Breakdown’s purple optics lit up at the appreciative tone. He repeated the motion, stroking the spike more firmly this time, Inferno’s approval lending him greater confidence.

Inferno allowed him to continue, moaning or sighing periodically to encourage his efforts while he turned his attention back to his original focus: the still-closed interface panel nestled between Breakdown’s parted thighs.

He caressed it gently, feeling the heat that radiated from the small rectangle of metal suffusing his fingertips as he traced the seams. Nervousness aside, it was clear that Breakdown was still significantly aroused, and having overloaded once already – Inferno’s engine revved again at the thought – his valve was sure to be well-lubricated. All that was needed was little more coaxing to persuade him to open up.

The initial distraction of touching Inferno's spike for the first time had begun to lose some of its effect – by now Breakdown had noticed that Inferno was touching him there – but Breakdown’s only response was to lift his hips and push against Inferno’s hand, clearly wanting more. Indeed, Inferno’s efforts seemed to be an even greater distraction; Breakdown’s grip on his spike was beginning to falter.

“Should I – keep doing it?” he panted, then uttered a needy keen, trying to arch into Inferno’s touches with only one hand free to brace himself.

“It feels wonderful,” Inferno replied, leaning in to kiss him, “but inside you –” he informed him between kisses, “– feels even better.”

“It – oh, ooooh, do that – it does?”

“Oh, yes,” Inferno replied emphatically, rubbing harder, “All tight, an’ wet, an’ ready for me – winds me up just thinkin’ about it.”

Breakdown’s panel clicked open obligingly.

Inferno wasted no time in plundering the newly revealed treasure, plunging two fingers into the slick, eager valve and working them in and out, curling and twisting them to stimulate all the delicate sensor nodes lining the interior walls. His efforts were greeted by a keening moan and a fresh, hot surge of lubricant.

Just as he’d suspected, Breakdown was more than ready for him.

Once more, Inferno leaned down to kiss him, withdrawing his fingers and catching hold of Breakdown’s hand - still loosely wrapped around his spike - drawing it upward and placing it against the nearer of his helm crests. Breakdown caught on quickly, immediately latching on to the wing-like crests with both hands, gripping them tightly as he returned Inferno’s fervid kisses with ardent enthusiasm.

Inferno groaned heatedly in response to the stimulation, repositioning himself to line up his aching spike with Breakdown's drenched and hungry valve. Unable to wait any longer, he drove his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with a single thrust.

Breakdown broke the kiss with a startled squeak at finding himself so suddenly filled, stiffening beneath him. Inferno grunted in both pleasure and pain as the Stunticon’s valve abruptly clamped down on his spike like a vise.

He raised his helm, meeting wide, frightened optics.

“Do you want me to stop?” he gritted out, his vocalizer strained by the pressure on his sensitive spike. He wasn’t sure he could withdraw now even if he wanted to, but he needed to ask.

“Y-yes – no – I don’t know –” Breakdown whined breathlessly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Noooo…but it’s really big.”

Flattered by the unintentional compliment, Inferno fought back an inappropriate urge to smile in spite of his discomfort. “It’s okay,” he assured him, “it’ll be all right. You just need to relax.”

Being careful to hold himself very, very still, he began kissing the Stunticon again, slow, gentle kisses meant to soothe his anxiety. At the same time, his hands began moving over Breakdown’s chassis, stroking seams and wires and stimulating sensor nodes at a calm, unhurried pace. Hesitant at first, Breakdown was soon returning his kisses and making little sounds of pleasure in response to his touches.

Slowly, gradually, Breakdown began to relax, the tension bleeding from his frame.

Inferno cycled his vents in a sigh of relief as the painful pressure around his spike finally eased.

“I’m going to move now,” he told him. “Just a little at first. If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“…okay.”

At first, he scarcely moved at all, shifting only slightly so as not to alarm his partner again. When this elicited no complaint, he initiated a series of slow, gentle thrusts, taking his time and savoring the warmth and tightness of the valve enveloping him, the exquisite sensation of his spike sliding smoothly in and out.

Breakdown seemed to appreciate the sensation as well, judging from the way he moaned and clung to him, wrapping his legs around Inferno’s waist components and rolling his hips to meet each thrust.

Satisfied that Breakdown was enjoying himself, Inferno quickened his pace. A minor adjustment to the angle of his partner’s hips was equally well-received; Breakdown voiced a soft – though unusually loud, for him – cry as the new angle caused Inferno’s spike ridges to rub against a particularly receptive cluster of sensor nodes within his valve, a cry that was repeated with every pump of Inferno’s hips, much to Inferno’s delight.

Breakdown’s valve was beginning to flex around his spike, heat pouring off his chassis, arcs of electricity leaping over his frame; he wouldn’t last much longer. He was already arching under him, tugging urgently at Inferno’s shoulders and lifting his chin, silently pleading.

Inferno knew what he wanted, and was only too happy to oblige him, capturing his lip components in a deep, passionate kiss. Breakdown overloaded with a raw cry that filled Inferno’s mouth, his hips bucking as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

The hot, electric surge of Breakdown’s release crackling between them combined with the vibrations from his revving engine and the sensation of his valve clenching around Inferno’s spike pushed the Autobot right to the teetering brink of ecstasy; a trio of fast, hard thrusts pushed him over the edge.

He collapsed atop the smaller mech, panting through his intakes in a vain attempt to cool his overheated circuits. Breakdown didn’t seem to mind being trapped beneath his greater bulk, or if he did, he voiced no protest.

Inferno eventually recovered enough to lift himself off his strangely silent partner, settling into a comfortable sitting position beside him.

“You okay there?” he asked, glancing down.

Breakdown emitted a contented humming sound. His optics were dimmed, his limbs slack. He looked like a mech on the brink of slipping into forced recharge – albeit a very happy one.

Inferno frowned faintly. Interfacing always resulted in a certain amount of energy drain, but it was rare for a mech to be exhausted by a single overload–or even two, in Breakdown’s case.

Feeling an odd twinge of worry that was at odds with the insignia emblazoned on Breakdown’s chestplate, Inferno stroked the Stunticon’s faceplate gently in an effort to rouse him.

“Hey…y’alright? Talk to me, sparkling,” he inquired gently.

“Mmm’okay,” Breakdown murmured, stirring slightly.

“No you’re not,” Inferno disagreed. “You’re runnin’ on fumes – what were your energy reserves at when you got here?”

Breakdown hummed contemplatively and then replied, “I dunno…forty..?”

“Forty percent?” Inferno squeaked in shock. “That’s almost critical!”

“No ’s not – ’s normal.”

Inferno was horrified. He knew that the Decepticons were endlessly seeking new energy sources to plunder, but he’d always assumed they did so order to enact whatever scheme Megatron had cooked up in his twisted processor that day. He’d never considered that the warriors themselves might be energon-deprived.

Now that he thought about it though, it made sense. Unlike the Autobots, the Decepticons had no friendly human allies willing to donate energy to support them. And of course any time the ‘Cons tried to steal what they needed, the Autobots did their best to stop them.

A surge of pity welled up within him as he gazed down at the depleted mech sprawled beside him. The fact that Breakdown was practically a sparkling didn’t help matters.

He reached into his subspace pocket, retrieving a chamois cloth that he used to clean up and put himself back in order, and then repeated the action on the drowsing Decepticon. That accomplished, he returned it to subspace and brought out the spare cube of energon he always kept on him in case of emergencies.

He took a sip to bolster his own reserves, and then nudged Breakdown. “Hey. Drink this.”

The fumes alone were enough to cause Breakdown to stir. Inferno helped him to sit up, and held the cube while Breakdown sipped from it. After a few swallows, he looked at Inferno expectantly.

“Go on,” Inferno told him. “All of it.”

Breakdown’s optics widened at that, but he complied without argument.

Inferno felt another twinge. It was painfully obvious from Breakdown’s behavior that he’d never been given a full cube to consume on his own. It made him sparksick to think about it.

I don’t think Breakdown’s happy being a Decepticon.

Red Alert had said that. Inferno wondered if it was true. It seemed likely. What mech would enjoy coming online only to be forced to fight in a war he knew nothing about? And energon-starved, besides. No wonder he’d been drawn to the Autobots.

To Inferno.

Maybe Red was right. Maybe Breakdown had been reaching out to them, the only way he knew how. Watching him now, having gotten to know him, Inferno no longer questioned or resented his former lover’s seemingly radical suggestion.

We should have brought him back with us. Back to the Ark.

What if he did just that?

Breakdown was polishing off the last of the energon cube when Inferno voiced his thoughts.

“I think you should come back with me.”

“What?”

“I think you should come back to the Ark with me.”

Breakdown looked nonplussed. “I can’t do that. That’s the Autobot base.”

“That’s right,” Inferno confirmed. “An’ I’m an Autobot. You could be too, if you wanted.”

“But what about–”

“We’d keep you safe,” Inferno assured him. “From Megatron, from all of them. We wouldn’t let them hurt you. We’d take care of you.”

Inferno met Breakdown’s bewildered purple optics. “I’d take care of you.”

Breakdown hesitated, uncertain, but seemingly unable to look away from the Autobot’s serious gaze, from his sincere blue optics.

“…okay,” he agreed in a very small voice.

**

Returning to the Ark with a Decepticon in tow had been…interesting, to say the least.

Inferno had commed ahead, but that had only served to draw a crowd to the entrance of the Ark to await their arrival.

“They’re all looking at me,” Breakdown complained.

“It’s gonna be all right,” Inferno reassured him. “I won’t let ‘em hurt you. An’ once I tell them you want to join us, everything’ll be okay.”

The other Autobots were mystified as to why Inferno had returned with the Decepticon who’d recently attacked him following so docilely in his wake, but they were confident enough in their greater numbers and home base advantage to await an explanation. Curiosity was keeping them in check, at least for the moment.

Inferno transformed upon reaching the entrance, and Breakdown did the same. A number of Autobots were present, but Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide and Optimus Prime stood at the forefront. Inferno addressed them directly.

“This is gonna sound kinda unusual, but…Breakdown here wants to join us.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Ironhide bellowed, “What?!” Prowl looked like he’d fried a logic circuit. Jazz barked a startled half-laugh. Optimus tilted his helm thoughtfully.

Breakdown drew closer to Inferno, half-hiding behind him.

The rest of the gathered crowd began shouting questions, and Inferno did his best to answer them. Yes, the Stunticon really wanted to join them. No, it wasn’t a Decepticon trick. No, Breakdown wasn’t a spy sent to infiltrate their base.

Quickly tiring of trying to shout answers to an increasingly unruly crowd, Inferno looked to the senior officers for help.

“Perhaps we should discuss the matter in private,” Prowl suggested tactfully, well aware of Inferno’s recent history with the Decepticon.

It soon became evident that Prowl didn’t intend for Breakdown to be included in that conversation; he ordered Ironhide to escort the Stunticon to the brig. Breakdown edged even further behind Inferno as Ironhide moved to obey.

“Wait,” Inferno protested. “He’s not gonna hurt anyone. Couldn’t we just…assign him a room somewhere?”

A wave of outraged protests arose in response to that suggestion. Inferno sensed more than felt Breakdown tensing behind him; to run, or to fight, Inferno wasn’t sure. For a few kliks the beleaguered Autobot tried and failed to make himself heard over the shouts of his comrades, but even dialed up to its highest volume setting, his vocalizer couldn’t penetrate the din.

Optimus Prime finally intervened and took control of the situation, quelling the heated debate with calm words. “If Inferno feels the brig is unnecessary, then we can make other arrangements.”

In the end, Breakdown had been installed in what amounted to “guest” quarters, albeit with some minor security measures in place. His comms had been blocked and the locking code on the door engaged – to keep him “out of trouble.” It wasn’t exactly the warm welcome Inferno had promised, but at least Breakdown wasn’t behind energon bars.

That accomplished, Inferno and the senior officers relocated to a conference room to hear his explanation and decide how to proceed.

Inferno remained stubbornly circumspect about how he’d come to meet with the Decepticon again, how he’d persuaded Breakdown to come back to the Ark with him, or why he’d decided to attempt such a thing in the first place. Fortunately the others seemed to sense his discomfort and didn’t press him for details, perhaps imagining it was related in some way to the Stunticon’s attack on him. Inferno might have been more forthcoming, if not for one thing:

Red Alert had also attended the meeting.

But to everyone’s surprise – Inferno included – the normally borderline-paranoid Security Director proved to be Breakdown’s most vocal advocate. Jazz made a joke about “Lambo loyalty,” but Inferno knew better. He offered his former lover a sheepishly grateful look when their optics met. Red’s responding expression was unreadable.

One by one, Red Alert refuted every argument the others made. When Ironhide stressed again that Breakdown was a Decepticon and not to be trusted, Red retorted that he was a newly sparked Decepticon, and went on to remind them of how the newly-sparked Dinobots had once defected, as had the Aerialbots…

When Prowl pointed out that in those instances the Dinobots and Aerialbots had promptly returned, Red Alert argued that the reason they’d done so was because Megatron had betrayed them, something Optimus Prime would never do to Breakdown.

No one had been willing to dispute that.

Red Alert also reminded them that Optimus had welcomed Skyfire into their ranks, in spite of the fact that the shuttle had once been a Decepticon, and that Skyfire had since gained trust and acceptance as an Autobot, even proving himself an asset to their cause with no apparent regrets.

Jazz was quick to point out that Skyfire hadn’t been a Decepticon all that long, and was a pacifist besides, something Breakdown demonstrably wasn’t – here he cast a sympathetic glance at Inferno – and that the odds were good the Stunticon would turn on them the first chance he got.

For a moment a tense, thoughtful silence had reigned, and it seemed like that would be the end of it, but then Red Alert had rallied, reminding them all that Breakdown was part of a gestalt, and that by allowing him to remain at the Ark, they would effectively be denying Megatron the use of Menasor, thereby tipping the balance of power in their favor.

Jazz had nodded; Prowl had demurred that Red Alert’s point was strategically accurate. Ironhide had grumbled a bit, but conceded that it’d be “nice to have one less giant ‘Con to worry about.”

Optimus Prime continued to remain silent, simply listening to his officers’ debate.

Red Alert concluded his argument with a confession, admitting that he had been the one to suggest to Inferno that they try to persuade Breakdown to join the Autobots, not only for all the reasons he’d given, but also because he had sensed during the attack on them that Breakdown was seeking a way to escape Megatron’s rule.

In the end, it was concluded that Breakdown would be allowed to remain, albeit under lock and key until his true loyalties could be determined. Decision made, the senior officers filed out.

Inferno and Red Alert remained behind.

To be concluded... here.

Comments

[a-scattered-me.livejournal.com]

I feel amazingly bad for Breakdown and the circumstances that surround him. It's hard to hate a character that in many ways, is much like a child. Oh and Inferno! So gentle! Whether he's starting to feel genuine affection for Breakdown or it's all just overwhelming pity that will soon wear off.. well I guess that's up to you :)

The sex scene was really really hot, I ended up fanning myself reading through it. And I like the arguments Red Alert put out, quite well-thought out - I still remember that silly Dinobot episode.

I eagerly await part 4 to see how it all ends.

[(Anonymous)]

D'awww! Breakdown really needs a hug, I think you managed to make him give me the kicked puppy look over the internet. If the autobots don't keep him I call dibs.

Very nice, and I can't wait to read the next part.

[kookaburra1701.livejournal.com]

Mmm, so hot! And so sad! Poor Breakdown - the bits about him never getting a full cube to consume really drive home the point that being a Decepticon isn't a walk in the park.