We're Slightly Less Screwed

Currently, I was slumped against the metal wall of my cell, watching the Sunstreaker glare at me with his one optic, which was no longer red but white. He was cool, as long as I didn’t sing, which was understandable.

After being zapped into stasis, Sunstreaker had given up on killing me, at least until I got closer, which even if I was stupid enough to want to try, I wouldn't be able to do.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that if you keep glaring at me,” I muttered, earning an even more intense glare from the bot. I guess the comics were right—he really hated anything that wasn’t made of mechanic parts.

I’d been talking to him for a while. I never said very much, but it didn’t really matter, because it’s not like his bitch ass ever replied anyway.

“So are you keeping those processors muted, because they fucked you up like they did Bee or because I’m organic and 'not worthy?'” I asked, getting annoyed with his lack of communication. I was trying to be nice and he was being a dick. I mean shit, I didn’t chain him up.

His optics turned a little more blue at the mention of Bumblebee.

With that I formed a new plan.

“Because if so I’m pretty sure ratchet can fix you. Bee spoke again, it didn’t last long though. He reinjured it," I said, watching as his eyes turned a nice baby blue shade. They were becoming less and less icy with every mention of a bot.

"Of course he can't talk, but those in sparked morons, Skidz and Mudflap can. Ugh. I wish Sideswipe had actually gotten to offline them before Prime stepped in."

Slightly blue turned to red, and he launched himself at me again. I didn’t even flinch. Instead I watched as yet again he was zapped into stasis.

“Fuck. Fucking hell. Mentioning Sides made him angrier than rapping the entire first verse of Roman’s Revenge by Nicki Minaj. That doesn’t even fucking make sense.” I bitched, rolling my eyes and slumping back against the wall.

He was gonna be in stasis for a while, so I figured now was a good time to try to get some sleep. And to sing some fucking Coldplay cause there’s nothing better when you’re locked in a cell and waiting to die, than singing some motherfucking Coldplay.

“ Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I...
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you-”

That’s it. That’s fucking it. “Sunny, I’m gonna fix you.”