The audio files by Crashboombanger that this universe is based on can be found here:

post/26034569423

post/26404891222

post/27386297478

If you haven't listened to them, this probably won't make a lot of sense. NSFW a bit , but amazing. 3]

Drift burst awake, body jolting. The sound of his armor crashing into the wall behind him rung out in the empty space, the darkness pressing in on him. His spark filled with panic, which increased when he tried to pull himself up. His arms were twisted behind him and bound together unpleasantly; it was enough to drag a gasp from his throat.

What had happened? He tried to force himself to recall, but the last thing he remembered was trying to meditate in his suite back on the Lost Light, then... Nothing. He twisted again, his optics the only glow in the room, the scope of florescent panning out across the immediate floor in front of him. Rolling onto his front, he was able to push himself up to his knees, but it didn't help with identifying his surroundings.

"Good to see ya, kid."

Drift's fuel ran cold, his strut arching as he tried to turn quickly to face the voice. Lockdown.

"No-"

"Yes," Lockdown drawled, a mild grin spreading across his face in the dark. He was looming somewhere nearby, now that Drift was alert he could feel the large mech's electromagnetic field in the same room. "Looks like I've finally caught up with you, Driftlock." Clenching his teeth, Drift growled lowly, the sound cut short when something heavy crashed against his back.

Loosing his balance, Drift was thrown forward, skidding his cheek against the floor. "My name is Drift," He hissed out, letting out a groan when Lockdown pushed his pede against the back of his helm. He shuddered, hard, optics flickering as the lights suddenly turned on; they were dim, and violet.

The ex-Con turned-Autobot flinched, but luckily the illumination was dim. However, something wasn't right. "Thi...This isn't your ship," He rasped. He had been trapped with Lockdown before, for over a month. He remembered his cell very, very clearly. Lockdown's laugh made more chills run down the mech's spine.

"How very observant of you," Lockdown uttered, twisting his pede against Drift's helmet before stepping back. "No, it's not; but we'll be back on the Death's Head soon." He chuckled again, able to dodge a kick from Drift with mocking ease.

"Who's ship is it, then?" He demanded. Maybe whoever it was didn't know, maybe he could get get them to tell the Autobots...

Lockdown's cackle made Drift's insides twist. "Someone ten times worse than me, kid. But don't worry, we'll be on our way soon enough..."

"You don't seem the type to partner up," Drift growled, trying to sit himself up again. His lip had split and he could taste the energon dribbling down from it. He tried pinging the Lost Light, hoping in vain that someone, anyone could hear him. For a moment, he thought that he felt a ping back; a tiny blip of information, acknowledging-

"AAAAAAH!" Drift shrieked in agony as his processor was suddenly filled with pain, whatever having replied sending a violent jab back to him. He hunched over his knees, wheezing as the pain faded. The ship itself seemed to have answered his plea. His audios were rushing from the sudden and unexpected pain, but soon he could hear Lockdown talking again.

"-And just make sure your legs are good and useless, too." Drift jerked, trying to move away from the massive mech who was looming closer. Lockdown appeared to have gotten some new mods since last they met, as his right hand had turned into a beastly claw-hand, big enough for him to grasp Drift by the leg and easily drag him. He kicked out with his other leg, but the bulking mech caught it, giving a dark chuckle as he did. "Now now, none of that, we're all friends here," He mocked, trapping one leg under his heavy pede.

Lockdown was deceptively heavy; he was so completely loaded down with mods that him putting his whole weight down on his leg caused Drift's armor to buckle. He growled out in pain, but kept his jaw tightly clenched. "Th—that's the best you can do?" He snarled, his denta bared.

The bounty hunter looked down at him, his optics flashing and a wicked grin splitting his ugly face plates. He said nothing, merely kicked at Drift's other leg, causing to land on something. There was a large strut that ran along the length of the floor and up to the ceiling, clearly some sort of support beam. The samurai-mech's shin landed on it, half of his lower leg draped off it. Drift's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. "No-"

"Yes," Lockdown nearly purred as he lifted his other foot and slammed it down onto his captive's lower shin. This caused it to buckle, then snap, and twist. Drift howled, screaming out from the agony of his limb being mutilated beyond conventional repair. He screamed so loud and so long his voice box shorted out and it faded into static.

The weight lifted off his other leg, and he tried to yank it back, tried to push himself across the floor and away, but that massive clawed hand grabbed him and dragged him closer to the support structure. Drift could feel energon pooling around him, dribbling from the open wounds from his nearly severed lower leg. Lockdown repeated the gesture with his other leg, despite how hard he writhed and squirmed. In fact, it was the movements that cased even more significant damage to him, the end of his leg dangling uselessly and sparking violently.

Drift's mouth fell open and he cried out, but the only noise that occurred from the action was a faint wheeze, a gentle string of static, and the gargling of blood as it bubbled up his throat from the abuse. When Lockdown stepped off him, the mech rolled over onto his front and let out a dry sob as energon poured out his mouth.

"Heh... I think you're ready for transport," He faintly heard Lockdown say, over the screaming of his internal alarms and the rushing of fluids. His sight became blurry as the pain made his processor nearly go into stasis. His world seemed to spin around him as Lockdown grabbed him by the seam between his shoulders and lifted him. Drift felt a sick lurch in his tanks as he heard one of his limbs thunk wetly to the floor, then the other. With his arms still tied tightly behind his back, and his legs completely useless, he was forced to just watch as Lockdown held him in his arms.

One of the monstrous mech's arms was under his shoulders, the other under his knees, where what little remained of his lower limbs dangled, dripping energon to the floor. Drift flinched, trying to wriggle away as the pieces of him that had been broken off were stacked on his chest, as if he were just some broken toy.

As the bounty hunter started walking, no doubt to rejoin his ship, Drift's optics fell offline, if only to fight and keep himself conscious. He wheezed and spat up more energon, his internal messages telling him that he was stable, but rapidly falling into a critical state. He won't kill me, Turmoil would be furious, he thought to himself, the only faint ray of hope he had. He could feel Lockdown speaking, but couldn't really make sense of what was being said. In fact, he could hardly hear anything anymore, his frame slowly going into stasis lock one system at a time.

The swords-mech let out a startled grunt and twitched as he suddenly felt another mech nearby. The electromagnetic field was immense, smothering even, and he was sure whoever it was, was a mech that towered even over Fortress Maximus. His processor was too sluggish to even begin to try and identify the strange bot, but he felt fear. The field revealed that the mech was angry; furious, even, but about what? He could feel Lockdown speaking again, but nothing was revealed in his tone or his field, making Drift wriggle slightly in an attempt to get away, even if he knew it was fruitless.

He was unceremoniously tossed onto some kind of metal slab; he tried to force his optics back online, to see where he was, but they had shorted out. The white mech suddenly arched and let out a hefty moan; he could've overloaded with how good it felt as his pain receptors were turned off.

Despite this, he still felt alarmed; why turn them off? Lockdown enjoyed listening to him scream, he'd made that clear on their last visit. He could feel, numbly, someone touching the wounds on the segment below his knees, and he tried to jerk away, but his form was so sluggish now it hardly mattered. He felt like he was about to offline any second now.

FUEL LEVEL AT A CRITICAL LOW

The alert within his HUD made Drift's spark sink in dread. He watched as it began to lower rapidly, the bleeding from his limbs, as well as his fuel pump cracking from the stress of the attack, ensured that he was going to pass within a matter of minutes. He wasn't supposed to kill me, he thought desperately. Knowing he was supposed to live to be handed over to Turmoil is what had kept him confident; he escaped last time, he could do it again.

A weak scream came from him, a pathetically weak sound, as his chest armor was suddenly cracked open with none too little force. He felt the huge alien mech near him, and he assumed that he had probably placed two giant hands on his armor to tear it open. He had no idea why or how, all he understood is that in his last moments of life, he was being eviscerated, his internal workings being pawed around in and some of them extracted.

His HUD exploded to life as his fuel pump was suddenly removed, yanked out of his body. What little energon was left in him began pouring out, he knew this must be the end- at least it was painless, though the humiliation was something he deeply regretted. Was he at peace? No. He still had so much to do, so many to protect. And odd sensation came to him, not that of pain, but one he could not fully identify. His Spark was starting to fade, and it was a draining, hopeless feeling.

Drift started thrashing, the panic setting in making him even more blind. He couldn't even feel his limbs anymore, as if they had already died and were simply waiting for him in the afterlife. Something pinned him down, probably the bounty hunter, while the giant mech began adding pressure to his chest, as if to aid his spark in snuffing out faster.

The panic had set off a primal part of his processor, and he writhed and bucked and sobbed, his throat crackling from the abuse it was getting. He could only faintly hear the voices above and around him, he felt more than heard, but they did nothing to aid in his terror. He couldn't die like this, not on some ship at the hands of the disgusting bounty hunter. Something was shoved into his chest, no doubt something to suck the life even faster from his fading spark.

The HUD flickered a few times before suddenly becoming brighter. It wasn't anything nefarious at all, but rather-

A—A new fuel pump?

Indeed it was, a fresh new fuel pump that had been slotted back in to replace his cracked one. Still, he continued to writhe, even with the pump there was nothing in it, so he was due to pass any minute now-

He choked as he felt fingers in his mouth, forcing his lips apart and holding them there. Hissing, he tried to bite down, but the digits were strong and thick, no doubt belonging to Lockdown or his gargantuan ally. Something pushed against his mouth, then wriggled inside and shoved deeply down his throat; he choked, bit down on whatever it was; it was solid, did not give in to his denta as they clenched down on it. His voice was already weak, but it was muffled in his grunt as he felt hot fluids starting to pour down his throat tubing.

Energon.

It was giving him energon. He was being force-fed, the fuel low-grade but more than welcome, as his systems began showing a positive reaction to it almost instantly. It suddenly dawned on him, as he felt the titanic being nearby push into his midsection again and force it closed. I'm being repaired.

Even Lockdown made mistakes; he had apparently not intended to cause such damage to the mech, and was having whoever-the-frag repair him. Drift sobbed out weakly, his throat clenching down on the energon transfer line, desperate for more as his fuel tank slowly began to fill.

His helm twitched as he felt the large mech come near it, toying with his helm to start fixing up his optics. When they came online, his sight was colorless and horribly out of focus; all he saw were dark and light masses. He strained to see better, but it was for naught, his optics reset. His HUD informed him it would take up to a full cycle for them to be operational again.

Once again he was bathed in darkness, and he was still very much anxious. He felt the energon seeping into his form and it soothed him, but only just. The knowledge of imminent danger was still raw in his processor, fogged as it was.

Feeling hands on him, he tried to bat them away by twisting, but he seemed to be too slow to even make contact. He groaned and took another heavy swallow of the energon, even though him doing so didn't bring any more down the tube. It was far past the point of even needing him to swallow, but somehow he was involuntarily compelled to do so, as if it would encourage more to flow.

Without warning, his pain receptors were turned back on. His back bowed upwards so far that he formed a full arch off the table, his sightless eyes wide. He had been numb to it for just long enough to forget; now it raged back through him and caused him to let out a choked scream around the cable in his mouth, nearly sending some of the fluid bubbling out. He was muffled by it, and he bit down hard to try and stunt his cries.

He could still feel the two mechs nearby; the massive one still letting off an air of anger, while Lockdown's was passive and at ease. He was left there, it seemed like forever, before the energon flow abruptly stopped and the cable was yanked from his tubing. He coughed and sputtered, but swallowed what little was left for him, knowing he was probably going to end up leaking it again. "No," He wheezed as Lockdown picked him up again, this time throwing him over his shoulder.

Despite the repairs, his lower limbs were still agonizing; he was fairly certain the bleeding had been stopped and not much else. He sobbed quietly, the hopelessness of the situation catching up to him again. But the Autobots would come. Eventually... It was only a matter of waiting out until then.

Drift was thrown to the ground again, landing on his hip and skidding until he crashed into a wall. He grunted and let out a growl, his teeth clenching. He flinched as that all-too-familiar gag he had been subjected to on his last encounter was tied around his helm, filling his mouth and making his groans and grunts slightly quieter.

He was forced upright, onto his knees, and the cuffs holding his arms together was hooked to a thick chain on the wall. He slumped forward, but was unable to even touch his helm to the floor from how short it was.

"Now, look at that, nice and comfy," He heard Lockdown say; his hearing had come back, at least. He clenched his jaw around the gag, twitching as he felt the massive engine of the Death's Head rumble below him. "Just sit tight... I'll be back to reminisce with you in a few." He said, and despite himself, Drift felt dread starting to coil in his gut.

He nearly lost his balance and fell over when the ship took off, probably dismounting itself from the other one they had been on. Drift let out a soft wheeze when his optics flickered back online. They were till seeing in black and white, but color was slowly starting to seep into his vision, a little bit at a time. His cell, oh how he remembered it... It was just as dark, and filthy and terrible as he recalled. He twisted his neck to try and get a better look around, but it was useless.

The containment cell had not changed one bit since he last was here. Even the various tools for abuse were lined up in the same way, all hanging on the wall across from him, where he stared at them for hours on end wondering what they did, and when Lockdown would use them on him. Now, though, he was trying again to message the Lost Light, but met nothing but static. They were too far away.

They'll know, they'll come for me. The feeling was strange; allies, friends, lovers... He'd never had them before. Sure, his team had been one thing, but they never would've come to rescue him. The Autobots, though? Certainly, they would come. Rodimus and Perceptor- it ached deep in his spark to think of them now- surely they were already on their way to track Lockdown's ship.

He was jerked from his musing when the door opened, a rectangle of light silhouetting the beastly Lockdown. Drift growled in greeting, earning a sickening laugh from the hunter. "I'm sure you think your Autobot buddies are on their way to save you," He drawled, as if he had been listening in on Drift's thoughts. "But you're wrong. I've been keeping an eye on you for a while, you know- I know all your cute little quirks."

Drift curled his lip back and snarled at him over the gag.

"You're kind of a recluse, aren'tcha, Driftlock?" He was further mocked. "After all... You go into your suite and meditate; sometimes for days, don't you?"

The feeling of energon running cold traveled swiftly down his strut. It was true. Drift was always one to savor solitude; even if he would share a berth and quarters with this lovers, he always spent more time alone than with anyone else. In fact, he had instructed a very flustered Rodimus that he intended to spend the next few days cleansing his aura. They wouldn't know he'd been taken, not until Rodimus got curious or bothersome enough to try and pester him. But considering how irked he had been with Drift before he'd gone to his suite, it could take up to a full week before his absence was even discovered.

Lockdown seemed to enjoy the look of horror on the racer's face, as he bent backwards with a cackle. "That's right, Kid, you know better than anyone no one's gonna come for you. Besides... I'm sure that pretty little microscope will enjoy your captain's company just as well without you."

That made his whole form lock up and tense. He snarled and screamed over the gag, his optics flashing in anger, his plating creaking from the strain. "Hahaha, yeah, I've been watching you, even your little get-togethers with that scientist and the has-been-Prime. Seems like you rather enjoy being tied up, used and abused... Wonder where the affection came from."

Drift flinched as Lockdown spoke about his lovers. Rodimus Prime and Perceptor... They meant the universe to him, but the idea of someone like Lockdown watching their private intimacies... He jerked his head away with a grunt, his optics going dark. It was true, when behind locked doors, he found he had a rather strong attraction to being dominated by his two companions; but Lockdown insisting that it was his abuse that caused it? Never!

"Don't lie to yourself, kid. No one can spend all that time tied up and screaming like a bitch and not get the hots for it." The bounty hunter laughed, giving his cheek a mock pat. His massive mod-hand had been replaced with a rather plain-looking one, but each of its fingers were a different color. Just as Drift took notice of it, it was wrapped around his throat.

His throat tubing was sore from having been force-fed the energon; he wheezed weakly and tilted his head back as he was shoved back against the wall. Lockdown's breath smelled like a smelter, and it was almost as hot as he spoke against Drift's face. "What do you say, kid? Do we need to go through the trouble, or are you just gonna agree to me fragging you?" Drift arched his back and tried to pull away, but with his arms ground up against the wall, there was little he could do.

Lockdown yanked the gag from his mouth, and Drift gasped. "Never." He snarled out, snapping and nearly biting Lockdown's face. The hunter belted out a massive explosion of laughter, leaning away so that he couldn't be bitten.

"Aaah, I always did like that spirit of yours," He grunted. He emphasized the word 'spirit' with a hard strike to the midsection with his thick, fist-curled hand. Drift cried out in pain, forced to double over as he was dropped roughly to the floor. "Nnnnnnh...!" He sobbed as his shattered legs were buckled and forced under his weight. He wheezed out, the pain almost too much again; amazingly, he didn't leak. Whoever had repaired him had done so expecting more abuse.

This did little to comfort him. He coughed as Lockdown's hand grabbed the top of his head and lifted him up, spitting at him when he was forced to look into his face. The mech didn't even seem to react to it. Drift's right optic closed in a wince as those thick fingers curled into his helm. "Looks like you need a little... Motivation. You remember ol' Shocky, don't'cha?" He smirked and clenched his fingers tighter, tight enough to dent, ignoring the furious growl that came from the mech. "I thought you might."

Drift didn't see the aforementioned 'Shocky', so when harsh and terrible bolts of electrified energy began tearing through his cranium, he did not expect it, and therefore he screamed even louder. Lockdown held him tightly, letting out a low breathy bout of laughter as he held the swords-mech in a clamp-like grasp for a solid minute before dropping him.

Taking in deep, trembling breaths, the mech heaved, his optics sizzling. "Like the new mod?" He heard the mech looming over him say. The multicolored hand was held in front of his face, and he watched as bright blue sparks began dancing over it. He noticed that as it sparked, it had changed to all one color; azure. Before his lagged processor could comprehend a reason why, it changed; it seemed that each digit had a mod within that changed the whole hand into something else. The yellow one appeared to have some sort of super-heated branding iron on it, as it glowed white and having it so close to his face nearly hurt.

As a Cybertronian, Drift was very much immune to most heat, but this... This was designed to melt the armor of mechs. He jerked away, slamming backwards into the wall. "What's the matter, Driftlock?" Lockdown jeered, leaning closer. He cackled as he moved the branding iron's rounded tip nearer, his laughter getting louder as Drift began to thrash in an attempt to avoid the searing tip.

He bit back a scream, locking his jaw as Lockdown pushed the blistering iron against his armour, starting to carve in a series of glyphs. The first one he burned in along his shoulder; it read something that roughly translated into "whore". The more he jerked and twisted, the more it hurt, but he refused to make it easy. "Look, you messed up my penmanship," The mech chided, lifting his arm as the last smoldering line was carved.

"Bastard," Drift snarled furiously, but his voice was strained.

"Oh good idea, I'll write that next," Lockdown said with a smirk. Drift began to writhe again, nearly pulling his arms out of their sockets as he did. Deciding that he wanted this particular carving to be neat, the hunter slammed his palm into Drift's neck, pinning him in a rather pointed fashion to the wall. Leaning forward, he pushed the blazing tool against his Drift's flank, starting the carving. This set hurt even more, the sword-mech's neural net reacting violently to it.

A scream couldn't be contained as Lockdown finished, shoving it against his armor a little harder and boring a hole nearly to his protoform. "Mmm, what should be emblazoned across that pretty chest of yours, Driftlock? Oh, I know." He cocked a wide grin as he shoved closer, dragging the tip slowly, pushing hard and scoring deep into his armor. He tried to push against him, wriggle free, anything to protect the Autobot symbol he had worked so hard for.

"Nngh- No! NO!" He screamed, but it only drew another extended guffaw from the mech. He smirked, taking his sweet time to carve the glyphs into his chest, defacing his emblem almost beyond recognition.

Drift's optics widened as he was able to read what was being scored into his armor, his Spark rapidly cycling. The mech trembled and slumped as the hunter stepped back, a dry sob leaving his throat, his chest steaming from the iron. The glyph read the word "TRAITOR" in bold, hateful symbols. "Now everyone will know what you really are... But I think they might need a little more clarification."

Once again he was pinned, this time with Lockdown's thick hand pressing against the side of his helm to keep it still against the wall. His neck was craned backwards painfully, but nothing could compare to that of the branding iron pressing firmly against his face plates. He screamed; oh, Primus, did he howl, body trashing and twisting to get away. "No-!" He cried out, but somehow, Lockdown was able to make straight lines along his cheek, even going to far as to score over his optic, leaving a thin line through his vision.

Then he was finished, the mech was utterly spent from fighting, the agony growing to be too much. He had no idea what was scored into his sensitive cyber-flesh, but as he looked away, the reflective surface of one of the thick metal tools nearby alerted him. The Decepticon emblem, bold as day, played itself across the right side of his face and optic.

He slumped forward again, helm hanging, the scent of burnt glass and metal filling the air. Lockdown's voice seemed far away, his processor completely lost in horror. "Hn-" He groaned as his helm was roughly lifted in the palm of the unmodified hand, his optics halved and dim.

"I'll stop, you know, if you just say what I want." The large mech whispered with a wicked mirth smothering his words. Drift's optics became dark and he yanked his jaw away.

"No. You filthy, disgusting mech..." The swords mech snarled, though his voice was weak, his conviction was clear. Sadly for Drift, that was exactly what Lockdown wanted to hear.