playfultyrant | IC VoiceMail

What are you-

[ It slams into him, all at once. Maybe it would've gone unnoticed, this new chain. A snake in the grass until it bit him on the leg. But then Megatron tells him that his purpose will be at his hands and suddenly Quick is gasping around a new collar, choking on something he hadn't meant to give.

He would have fought anyway. He would have, he would have fought like his life depended on it, and it DID. But then it's an order and the order hollows it out and rage and tears prick at the corners of his optics. His defiance too, taken from him.

He fights. He's without his spinnerang, but he fights. Kicks, punches, biting as the tears flow. ]

Screw you, screw you, SCREW YOU! [ He trusted him, he TRUSTED him. ]

Keep fighting. Prove your life worth living.

[ The hand gently closed around him, not lifting, not anything but the theme brushed up to his face. Then

ZAPP]

I adore you, Quick. A wonderful creation of marveled human ingenuity. But you are not without flaws.

I will fix that for you. I will make you better. Stronger.

[ The thumb moves to hold him in place now as he finally stands. Squeezing. ]

[ And Quickman screams.

Crackling, warping energy, inside of him, inside of him- His internals scream warnings across his vision, disintegrating into static as soon as they form; his body is crying out for help, Quick's crying out for help, and there's no one to hear.

His frame feels too big for itself. It's his brother's Atomic Fire all over again. It is worse than his Atomic Fire. At least when Heatman melted him down to slag it was all of him, not the horrifying, sickening feeling of sloshing inside of him; he chokes and gags, and he thinks it might be on his own internals. There's the sound of metal warping, all around him and in his audials, so loud he thinks even he might go deaf.

He's not sure how much time has passed. Too little and too much. It's time being relative, all over again. Did he black out, briefly? His systems are throwing up errors again and half of them don't make sense. There are pieces missing except they are fine except they are not and- It hurts. It hurts.

The screams choke off into wheezing, spatters of silver coughed through unsteady vents. The pain doesn't go away. It is less, but it aches solidly inside of him, instead of the woozily sloshing feeling from earlier. It's hard to think through it. He tries so hard to blink away the 'ERROR: INCOMPATIBLE PARTS' that pops up over his vision, and tastes metallic on his teeth.

For a moment, something in him wants to break. Wants to bend to this. Nearly, he drops his head. But then black and red flashes over his vision, a new spike of pain through his processor, and his head jerks up into a whimper. It's all he has left to give. ]

There, its over. It's fine now, you're perfect once more.

[ He loosens his grip and rolls his hand flat palm up so Quick can lay there. In the middle of a static ocean.

Nova Storm was a wonderful test subject, Wheeljack was a trial of making sure he could keep and control what is his.

Quick is now a personal project and extension of a goal so close in reach.

Could it be eventually, the cosmoses all bent to his whim.

The multiple realities his alone.

He's proven he can warp three different indivuals of different realms as is.

As he lifts his other hand he brushes a finger along Quick's face. ]

Good boy.

[ Everything moves sideways for a moment, and Quick feels like he's going to hurl. He shudders at the touch, the words, revulsion in his chest, and that seems to make it all the more likely- But he's too woozy still to even bare his teeth at his new master.

Leashed. But not tamed. But for now, he hurt too much to express it.

Probably a good thing.

He moves, slowly. Every time he does his vision spins, dizziness threatening to drown him. But Quickman is stubborn, so stubborn. He flips himself over to his hands and knees at first, though the movement makes him gasp with new errors. Then, slowly, nearly stumbling into falling over again... He stands. Everything's too long. His legs quake like a baby deer's, unsure of their new lengths. He's... Taller? The surface of that betraying hand is too far away compared to what it should be.

It makes him nearly sick.

He can taste the ash of his would-be home on his teeth again, mixing with the copper and aluminum. ]

I did not remove what makes you you. I did nothing you didn't ask for. You wanted to be a weapon, you wanted a purpose. Here it is.

You are stronger, faster, bigger.

I did not change the core, I did not remove everything. I wanted you to be manageable, to exist to the left of yourself.

Do you understand now, Quick. You asked. I delivered. And you will help me in exchange.

[ He wants to SCREAM at him. Managable? MANAGABLE? This time, this time he bares his teeth (it's all he can allow himself), but says nothing. Even he knew not to bite Wily's hand when it had been around his throat.

He didn't ask for this. He asked for a friend to help him forget.

This monster was not his friend.

But the leash tugs tight and no matter how much he wants to posture and be the threat he is, Quick knows what he can and cannot do. He has a new master. He has a new collar. And now Megatron could do whatever the hell he wanted. ]

Fine. [ There was no other answer he could give. ]

Do not give me such pitable looks, Quickman. I am not some malicious god, I am benevolent. You will understand with time.

And you will not be alone for long.

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