Tracks:

::Accept communication from [Tracks]: Y/N::

Mirage:

::Y::

Tracks:

::Mirage, I know you probably still aren't recharging. I, on the other hand, -enjoy- a full cycle of rest.::

Tracks:

::I'm leaving my door unlocked. There is space, if you deign to make use of it.::

Mirage:

::...I appreciate it, Tracks. I'm sorry; I hadn't meant to be so... snappish, earlier.::

Tracks:

::I'm sure. I do understand, really.:: *Though he certainly still sounds affronted*

Mirage:

::Thank you. Mirage out.::

Tracks:

*Closing off the comm with an irritable flick of his wings, Tracks glances at Bonecrusher* It's done.

Tracks:

If he's as desperate as I think he might be, he will probably come by.

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher sighs and shakes his head, taking to leaning against the wall near the door - coincidentally, he'd be out of sight if someone were to just waltz right in!*  Y'REALLY THINK HE'LL EVEN TALK T'US?

Tracks:

*Shakes his head* He won't want to; beyond that, we just have to hope he can't keep it up against both of us.

Mirage:

*A short while later - late enough that one surmises Tracks /would/ be in recharge by now - the door eases open. Mirage is, for once, visible, trailing heat on infrared sensors.*

Mirage:

*He actually makes it a few steps into the room before noticing that the lights are on, Tracks is certainly awake, and there is a multi-ton one-armed mining vehicle in the room.*

Bonecrusher:

*That multi-ton mining vehicle is now currently sliding in right next to the door, shutting it with a click.  Subtle is not his style.*

Tracks:

*Tracks looks only slightly apologetic, arms crossed over his chestplate* Mirage, I'm glad you came.

Mirage:

*jumps about five feet in the air at the click of the door, and winds up several long steps across the room from them all, but his voice is fairly level* This is rather excessive, don't you think?

Bonecrusher:

*frowns, looking at the racecar levelly*  NOT REALLY, NO.

Tracks:

*Tracks retraces Mirage's path across the room with his optics* I might've had some doubts, before just now.

Mirage:

*shifts from foot to foot, not terribly liking the sensation of being pinned, even by two mechs he's shared a berth with* I'm not sure what that's supposed to prove, if anything.

Bonecrusher:

WHY'D YOU RUN?  *mildly*  'S JUST A CLOSED DOOR.

Tracks:

Even surprised, that's quite a reaction. *just as mildly*

Mirage:

Under the circumstances, I don't consider it extreme at all. *guardedly*

Bonecrusher:

*frowns*  WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES?  WE'RE JUST FRIENDS TALKIN' T'YA.

Tracks:

Nothing sinister.

Mirage:

I'd certainly like to think not, but I /have/ been hunting for Bombshell's drones consistently. One never likes to see the unexpected when patrolling, as this little ambush is.

Bonecrusher:

THIS ISN'T AN AMBUSH.  'M HERE ALL THE TIME.  *lightly*

Tracks:

You're not patrolling - you were coming to rest in my room because you won't do it anywhere else. And there aren't drones on the Ark...

Mirage:

Which I'm making sure of, extensively. *ah. Look. Another subject!*

Bonecrusher:

I'VE ALREADY CHECKED.  A FEW TIMES.  AN' Y'KNOW IT'S CLEAR, WHICH IS WHY Y'CAME IN HERE T'RECHARGE, RIGHT?  *sooo lightly, so unaccusingly*

Mirage:

I don't 'know' any such thing. *counters* The thought of an incursion from residue in the Nemesis /has/ occurred to me, several times.

Bonecrusher:

MOST OF TH' BUGS ARE GONE.  THERE WAS VERY NEARLY AN EXPLOSION IN TH' BASEMENT -  AS IT IS, NONE OF THE LARGER ONES ARE AROUND TO CAUSE PROBLEMS.  AN' THEY LIKE TH' NEMESIS, SO THEY PROBABLY AIN'T COMIN' HERE.

Tracks:

*Tracks nods* Really, I think you probably have an idea why you're here, by this point.

Mirage:

Yes, and this is /exceptionally/ excessive of you both.

Bonecrusher:

*snorts*  I THINK TH' AMOUNT OF AVOIDIN' YOU DO, RACE CAR, IS WHAT'S EXCESSIVE.

Tracks:

We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't think it was necessary.

Mirage:

I appreciate your concern, but it's really quite unfounded in this case.

Bonecrusher:

I THINK TH' FACT THAT YER AVOIDIN' TALKIN' ABOUT A VORN OF WHAT I ASSUME WAS FULL OF TORTURE IS KINDA A HINT THAT THIS IS NECESSARY.  *subtle like a punch to the face*

Tracks:

And that we think you have avoided talking to anyone about it since it happened makes us believe it's very -well- founded.

Mirage:

*flinches, just a little, face settling into a flat expression* I don't see any point in talking about it.

Bonecrusher:

I SEE EVERY POINT IN TALKING ABOUT IT.  *reads Mirage's face and then takes a half step towards the Autobot, posture as nonthreatening as possible and still keeping a good distance away*

Tracks:

*The Corvette doesn't move yet, not wanting to spook him too much at once* We just want to help, Mirage.

Mirage:

*slides a step backwards anyway, but doesn't seem actually /panicked/ about it* You might begin by letting me leave.

Bonecrusher:

SO YOU CAN GO BACK TO LURKING AND PRETENDING YOU'RE ALL RIGHT?  DOESN'T SOUND LIKE AN OPTION.  *keeps his posture relaxed and nonconfrontational, but mostly out of habit in this kind of situation than anything*

Tracks:

And we can stay here as long as we have to. *looking concerned, though with a faint edge of annoyed still from earlier*

Mirage:

Everything /is/ fine. *it's kind of brittle, but overall acceptably convincing, or at least it /would/ be*

Bonecrusher:

*It would be if Bonecrusher weren't watching his expression and tone so closely - to the point where he's actually entering "inside voice" tone*  Mirage, talk.

Tracks:

*Dropping his arms from their folded position, Tracks gestures to his small table;*

Tracks:

*Mirage must have been tired to actually come in the first place and keeping him standing seems rude* Take a seat if you like, but talk.

Mirage:

I don't need to talk, but thank you for the offer. *the racecar still seems - tensed, as if ready for immediate flight*

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher sighs and takes a step back, going to lean directly next to the door - not blocking it, but there’s definitely a hint that he's not going to let Mirage go too easily* I think you do  need to talk.

Tracks:

The talking is not negotiable. *Tracks moves to take a seat then, not quite relaxed but trying to set an example*

Mirage:

I'm not really negotiating. I hate to be rude, but I truly do /not/ care to discuss the matter. At /all./

Bonecrusher:

We're not really negotiating either.

Tracks:

*Waves a hand slightly, frowning* The point being that whether you want to talk about it or not, we think you need to.

Mirage:

Unfortunately, I'm really not going to. I appreciate the concern.

Bonecrusher:

*A growl escapes him without him really meaning it, but he rolls with the intimidation factor and locks his optics on Mirage*  Yes.  You are.

Tracks:

*Glancing from Bonecrusher back to Mirage, Tracks narrows his optics slightly, waiting*

Mirage:

*lifts his chin, meeting Bonecrusher's gaze with an odd smile* I've looked at your logs, so do believe me when I say that no, you /cannot/ 'make me.'

Mirage:

*doesn't actually realize how much /that/ reveals*

Bonecrusher:

*Raises an optic ridge, his frown deepening*  Oh?  And why do you say that?  I thought I was fairly proficient at getting little Autobots to talk.

Mirage:

You haven't the tools, expertise, or time. *distinctly chilly as he stares down the multi-ton Decepticon towering above him* As I said, I /did/ view your logs, and your - approach - is /not/ sufficient.

Tracks:

*Attempting to not look nearly as lost as he feels, Tracks now looks back at Bonecrusher, hoping he can field that well enough on his own.*

Bonecrusher:

*Looks very mildly surprised by that statement, before smiling widely - but not at all nicely - at Mirage*  ...Well, if you won't talk, I suppose I could always find someone who'll be glad  to do so.

Mirage:

You mean to accost Bombshell? *waves towards the door, icy* I can't precisely stop you, now can I? Though I doubt he'd tell you the truth.

Tracks:

Then why don't -you-?

Mirage:

I can't stop him from saying what /he/ likes, either way. *that is /definitely/ some brittleness right there* I myself am under no such restriction.

Bonecrusher:

Primus, he's good.  *and that  would be a mild sort of awe in Bonecrusher's voice*  Fraggin' perfect.  You'll even protect him after he's stopped controlling you.

Mirage:

/Protect/ him? */snarls,/ his entire face transforming at once* Not. /Hardly./ Rip him to pieces if you like, though I would much /rather/ do so /myself./

Tracks:

*Tracks stays silent; he's never seen quite -that- look on Mirage's face before*

Bonecrusher:

*takes a few steps forward, keeping his voice low and actually attempting at some soothing tones in it*  I'll be glad to, once I know what he's done to you.

Mirage:

*forcibly re-composes his expression, cycling his vents in a huff of air* ...he's done - /enough./

Bonecrusher:

Enough to keep you nice and quiet and repressive, sneaking around the base and being invisible so no one bothers to look.  *looks directly at Tracks, optics narrowed*  Is this how Mirage has always been?

Tracks:

*Shakes his head* Not at all.

Mirage:

*lips thin* I /can/ speak for myself. This - infestation is hardly /normal./

Bonecrusher:

*snarls, raising his voice well above what's normal for even him* OFF ABOUT THE DRONES ALREADY!   Primus, you stupid little thing, you aren't hiding from us anymore! 

Mirage:

I /know/ you know more than I /ever/ wanted /anyone/ to! *shouts right back, though he's probably not capable of being as loud as Bonecrusher*

Mirage:

But I will NOT give you the details! I don't want to /remember/ them, I don't want to /think/ about them - /nothing!/

Tracks:

*Still sitting, Tracks leans back in his chair slightly, keeping his own voice even* And then you'll eventually collapse under the weight of them.

Mirage:

*spins on his heel with the squeak of rubber; he'd half-forgotten Tracks was there* I haven't yet.

Tracks:

Eventually. Probably -soon-, with the way you're carrying on.

Mirage:

I'm /not/ 'carrying on.' I've gone to some effort to /not./

Bonecrusher:

.....Do you really believe that, Mirage, or do you tell everyone that so you can play pretend?

Mirage:

I don't care to make a /production/ of the fact, if that's what you're asking. The more /speakable/ things he did are bad enough to live with as common knowledge.

Tracks:

*Watching Mirage, he shakes his head slightly* No, you keep your problems private. You always have.

Tracks:

But you came back and you... did you even have to give a briefing, beyond what was made public?

Mirage:

*shrugs his shoulder-wheels* Somewhat more in depth, but along the same lines.

Bonecrusher:

So you haven't told anyone anything beyond a fragging briefing.  And you didn't fully disclose everything in the briefing, either, did you?  *Sounding very patient, now that they're getting somewhere*

Mirage:

I disclosed everything relevant. *icily*

Bonecrusher:

Psychological issues are considered relevant issues in most Decepticon briefings.  I'd find it odd if Autobots didn't consider them relevant.  *his voice is slightly gruff, but there's a mild undertone of something *

Tracks:

*Shakes his head* Normally counseling would be mandatory, unless we were in some very dire straits.

Mirage:

*half-smiles* I - ah, what's the phrase? Weaseled out of it.

Bonecrusher:

Why?  *flatly*  That's irresponsible.  *not that he's the kind of mech to talk about "responsibility," but it's the thought that counts*

Mirage:

It hasn't impinged on my performance in the slightest up to this point. A small selfishness, I admit.

Tracks:

It hasn't been good for you though. You barely recharge, you're frighteningly paranoid... Things that -could- have easily effected your performance.

Mirage:

Up to this point, I said. I meant including, well. *waves his hand* This situation.

Bonecrusher:

So, you enjoy not being able to recharge in your own room?  Getting a few spare moments of rest behind couches or in the room of a 'Con you don't even really know?  That's all well and normal for you, is it?

Mirage:

*irritated huff of air vents* /No./ You both are /deliberately/ misinterpreting. Before this alliance, even before the Vok, I recharged perfectly well, and was /not/ unduly paranoid.

Mirage:

I'm /still/ not 'unduly' paranoid regarding Bombshell himself, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Bonecrusher:

......*there's a slightly dangerous edge to his tone, optics narrowing slightly*  Do you think he'll come after you again?

Mirage:

It's a far-too-reasonable possibility in my mind. *twitches his shoulder wheels up higher, tensely*

Tracks:

*Tracks glances at Bonecrusher, comming him privately* ::Tangenting here a little, I think.::

Bonecrusher:

*frowns, shaking his head, returning the comm* :: ....The only things I can think to do at this point aren't... my style.  The idea of Bombshell doing something else  is frustrating enough. ::

Bonecrusher:

:: You know him better - how do you get him to talk?  Primus, at this point, getting him to break down is worth it. ::

Tracks:

::I don't know! I've never had to do this.:: *Tracks frowns in the larger mech's direction*

Tracks:

::Don't let up, is my best advice. He's used to fielding questions, but if we make him angry, maybe...::

Bonecrusher:

.........Alright.  *he sends a glare at Tracks, then at Mirage*  This entire conversation is not leaving this room, much less the next bit here.  I'm being too slagging nice to you stupid Autobots.  Mirage.

Mirage:

...yes?

Bonecrusher:

*he takes a few more steps forward - he's still directly in Mirage's path to the door, but it's not his first intention to block the other*  ...I am not going to let Bombshell touch you.

Bonecrusher:

But you  are going to sit down and tell us what happened, so I know exactly how many pieces to make out of him.  I am not letting you leave until you do.

Tracks:

*Tracks nods as he turns back to Mirage, looking rather fierce for him* Yes, so telling us would be in your best interests.

Mirage:

We're going to be here some time, then, because I will /not./ I'd find atomizing him entirely to be not enough pieces for my satisfaction.

Bonecrusher:

*he sighs and steps forward even more, sliding a bit and forcefully shoving Mirage down into the chair Tracks had pulled out for him previously*  Fine.  Then we'll wait.

Tracks:

*makes a sound not unlike an affronted sniff* You'd think we weren't friends here.

Mirage:

*doesn't /quite/ yelp as he's mech-handled, but glares up at Bonecrusher as he's shoved down into a seat* We /are./ You already know more, between the two of you, than the rest of this base /combined./

Mirage:

Well. Given that Bombshell is absent.

Bonecrusher:

*returns Mirage's gaze easily, not particularly interested in knowing more than the idiots on base*  Tell us more.

Mirage:

I'd much prefer not.

Tracks:

It's not a matter of your preference. Would you honestly prefer we try this another way? *sitting up, optics narrowing*

Tracks:

I could go to Prime, ask him to continue the inquiry and standard procedures that obviously weren't adhered to when you returned?

Mirage:

...you could. And I could lie again about the matter.

Tracks:

Right, you could. *He scowls in frustration and blurts-* What exactly was -so- horrible that you can't even tell -us-?

Mirage:

I... *covers his face with a hand and sighs* Really, it's more like what /wasn't./

Tracks:

*a little sheepish at his own lack of tact, Tracks stands, hesitating before he reaches out to rest a hand on Mirage's arm*

Tracks:

*It's not an apology - more like silent support, but Tracks hopes it's not completely lost on the other Autobot*

Mirage:

*doesn't really acknowledge the touch overtly, but he does relax a fraction, shoulder-wheels outright drooping* Suffice to say anything you could possibly imagine. Many things I had no idea of. *quietly, hand still over his face*

Tracks:

...Please, Mirage. *just as quietly, and letting some of his concern show in his tone* Help us understand what happened.

Mirage:

You don't want to. I'd much prefer not to have to, myself.

Bonecrusher:

Yes, we want to.  *glances at Tracks briefly, before fixing his optics back on Mirage fully*  We need to hear it.

Bonecrusher:

*not adding that Mirage himself no doubt needs to hear it, too, just because they'll get less resistance that way*

Mirage:

You really don't. *not bothering to lift his head from his hands* It's quite likely as bad as you think.

Tracks:

We do. *gently* Mirage, we aren't about to give up now; we want to see this through -with- you.

Mirage:

*lifts his head and actually looks at Tracks* I would much prefer it simply be /done/ with. The entire thing. I was quite fine for /vorns/ afterwards, why /now?/ *it comes out more plaintive than he'd meant it*

Tracks:

*He offers a faint, rueful smile* You didn't have Bonecrusher to drag it out of you, then.

Mirage:

/That's/ true enough. *dry*

Bonecrusher:

It's not my fault.  *flatly*  You were going to hit this sooner or later.

Mirage:

I managed quite well to avoid it so far. *and just like that, back to slightly snappish*

Bonecrusher:

And now you can't avoid it anymore.  So talk.  *snaps right back, matching his tone pretty damned evenly*

Mirage:

I /am/ talking. Far more than I probably /ought./

Tracks:

I'd say it's far less than will get you out of this.

Bonecrusher:

It's time you own up to what happened.  *there's a slight growl in his voice*  So talk.

Mirage:

I know quite /well/ what happened. /You/ certainly don't need to.

Bonecrusher:

You know  what happened, but you seem to be doing a wonderful job at repressing it, as opposed to moving through it.  TALK.

Mirage:

I have /moved/ through it quite /well,/ or I /had/ until you kept /insisting/ on dredging everything back up that I would /much/ rather remain /done/ with! *Mirage is not /quite/ yelling, but it's rather close*

Tracks:

Moved through it? *Tracks snorts* You're hardly like the Mirage -I- used to know.

Mirage:

Who's like /anyone/ we used to know anymore? *just a little bitter, there*

Bonecrusher:

*snaps*  Is that your excuse for recharging in the common room and deciding to slink in here to get some sleep?  Did you just naturally  change into that kind of mech? 

Mirage:

Of /course/ it's not, what sort of self-delusional /idiot/ do you /take/ me for? *and /now/ he's yelling* What in the blazing Pits do you want to /know?/

Mirage:

How he jammed an electromagnet into my spark, /hurt/ me with it, and then forced me to overload myself with it not fifteen kliks later? Just because I forgot how to /beg?/

Mirage:

*is on his feet, /shouting/ into Bonecrusher's face*

Tracks:

*It takes a moment before Tracks can do much beyond a horrified twitch of his wings*

Tracks:

*And he's pleasantly surprised to find his voice to be as steady as it is when he speaks* We want to know all of it.

Bonecrusher:

*regards Mirage with absolutely no pity - just a calm kind of understanding that he's starting to gain over the whole situation*  Tracks is right.  We want to know everything.

Bonecrusher:

*his voice is just as calm as his expression - but there's a definite undertone to it, as ambiguous as it may be*

Mirage:

*belatedly realizes /what/ he'd said, and takes a step backwards from them both, stricken* I -

Tracks:

*Tracks isn't honestly the comforting sort, normally, but he can't not reach out at that, laying a hand on the race car's shoulder*

Tracks:

What else? *gently*

Bonecrusher:

*isn't about to touch Mirage - probably not the best idea, considering his own background, really - but he shifts a bit closer*  Keep going, Mirage.  Don't stop now.

Mirage:

I -- *looks from Tracks to Bonecrusher, and then covers his optics with a hand* ...I suppose it's ridiculous to continue to refuse, after saying /that./

Tracks:

*Glancing almost triumphantly at Bonecrusher, Tracks nudges Mirage very gently towards a chair*

Tracks:

Then don't; we're listening.

Bonecrusher:

*catches the glance, but makes no real expression, just looking back to Mirage*

Mirage:

*lets himself be guided, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands again, at least partly so he doesn't have to /look/ at them* ...where shall I start?

Tracks:

The beginning is usually a good place. *Taking the other seat - sorry Bonecrusher*

Bonecrusher:

*prefers to stand, anyways, still fairly close to Mirage without breaking the "personal bubble"*

Mirage:

...ah, yes. /That./ It was worst at the beginning, I think. I fought the - wrong way, at first. Outright defiance was - oh, I think he enjoyed disabusing me of that.

Tracks:

*The Corvette isn't entirely sure where to go with this, but at least they're -getting- somewhere* I'm not sure what you mean.

Mirage:

Outright defiance led him to... disabuse me of the - notion that I could escape somehow, or fight him outright. I - once, he made me cut all the joints, all the neural lines. From head to foot. One at a time.

Mirage:

To... ...demonstrate. That I truly wasn't anything more than his toy. *

Mirage:

*his voice gets softer and softer as he continues, almost inaudible by the last word*

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher remains silent - there's a slight change in his posture but it's nothing noticeable if one were to have their face in their hands*

Tracks:

*If Tracks were able to blanche, he would, but short of a paint job he's left with

Tracks:

twitching his wings and nodding slowly* ...Ah.

Mirage:

...I did say you didn't want to know. *summons up some self-defensive dryness, hearing everything Tracks /isn't/ saying*

Bonecrusher:

Ignore him.  Keep going.  *still with that strange tone in his voice, watching Mirage and Mirage alone*

Mirage:

My apologies, Tracks. *waves a hand, not lifting his head* Things... of that nature. Until I - figured out how to... act. Then it was for his own pleasure.

Bonecrusher:

Don't.  Apologize to him.  *and now  his voice changes, turning hard and almost aggravated*  There's nothing to be apologizing for.  Keep going.  What were his standards for you?  What was his own  pleasure?

Bonecrusher:

*even if he says that last sentence like he doesn't ant to think about it, he still wants to know*

Tracks:

*Tracks looks slightly sheepish, but nods, letting Bonecrusher take the lead*

Mirage:

...to pay attention to him. Respond to him. He liked, from time to time, to partially disassemble me and... proceed from there. Sometimes just to watch the moving components, sometimes with less... scientific aims.

Mirage:

From... time to time... he would - try to -- no, 'try' isn't the word. He /would/ alter my - emotional processor functions.

Bonecrusher:

Made you feel things that weren't there.  *and there's that slight hint of awe in his voice - no matter how many pieces he's mentally chopping Bombshell into, there's no denying that the mech... has a certain style*

Mirage:

Oh, they were /there./ *bitterly* Whether or not I wanted them to be. ...That's actually quite a good summary, all in all.

Bonecrusher:

I meant not real.  Not what you intended to feel over the situation, and not by your own choice did you feel them.  It's hard to do that the old-fashioned way.  *old-fashioned being his  style, of course*

Mirage:

*lifts his head and actually looks at Bonecrusher* I /did/ say you didn't have the right skills.

Bonecrusher:

I'm seeing that now.  Probably could get something similar, if I had the time and the desire, but I don't.  Not here, at least.  How much more aren't you telling?

Bonecrusher:

*and there's a little sympathy, not so much that it'd seem pitying, but at least enough to show that he's not being a complete afthead about the entire situation*

Mirage:

...Forgetting how to act. It happened, from time to time. I /did/ tell you how he enjoyed watching me - forcing me to kill mechs I'd worked with for cycles.

Mirage:

Sometimes I could protect them after they were dead, if I begged correctly.

Mirage:

Sometimes not.

Tracks:

*Tracks looks confused slightly, enough to ask* -After- they were dead?

Mirage:

After. It wasn't as though I could do anything for them /before./ That, and you would be /amazed/ to know what Bombshell could do with corpses. *Mirage's lips thin* I didn't want to see that happen any more than I had to.

Bonecrusher:

I bet we would be.  *he makes no effort to press the issue, though, because quite frankly that bit doesn't matter to him.  Dead is dead, and Mirage, apparently, is not that yet.*

Bonecrusher:

Tell us as much as you can.  More than you can bear, preferably.

Mirage:

More than I'd /prefer,/ you mean. *acerbic* What I can /bear/ is entirely different.

Tracks:

I think we're already beyond the realms of preference. *dryly, slightly more focused than he was seeming a few minutes ago*

Bonecrusher:

I meant what I said.

Mirage:

What I can /bear/ is... Do you know that as far as I'm aware, I'm the only mech that /survived/ what Bombshell did? He had them tear themselves open and he ate them. For - breaking.

Mirage:

For losing his interest and becoming nothing more than a numb puppet. For not /trying/ anymore. He told me once that they were already dead.

Mirage:

I spent most of that vorn trying /so/ hard to find some way, any way, to die. *actually smiles, brittle*

Mirage:

I suspect he /still/ doesn't know he gave me a choice when he told me that. I'd sooner have lived than give him that particular satisfaction.

Tracks:

*Crossing his arms, Tracks barely stalls the shudder that wants to come at that thought* I'm glad you did.

Bonecrusher:

....*gives Mirage a rather lopsided, unhumored smirk*  You're a bit more interesting alive than dead.

Mirage:

I quite agree. It was - easier after that. After I got to /decide/ that. There was - an escape, as it were. I had a choice, and a choice that /he/ didn't give me. It was satisfying just to know.

Bonecrusher:

*sounding just barely... disappointed, maybe*  He's just another idiot who slips up.  Bad for him, good for everyone else.

Mirage:

/He/ didn't slip up, actually. /I/ did. *and /that/ is an oddly triumphant smile* Completely by accident; the worst part was that every method for disclosure I could think of, I had to think of - and /enact/ - the countermeasure.

Tracks:

*The look he shoots at Bonecrusher is somewhat unsettled, but he confines his remarks to the subject at hand*

Tracks:

How did -you- slip up?

Mirage:

A conflict between information-gathering requirements and requirements to remain, ah. 'In character.' *seems remarkably pleased to admit his failure*

Bonecrusher:

*snorts*  So you fucked up.

Mirage:

I completely 'fucked up.' *in rather good spirits about that* I wasn't ever trained to be /that/ sort of infiltrator.

Tracks:

...What sort is that?

Mirage:

*blinks* Wherein one has a false identity and plays the part of a loyalist. The, ah, standard kind.

Mirage:

I was always surveillance, not infiltration proper.

Bonecrusher:

*rather casually, considering the situation*  I assume you figured it out quick enough to get a decent idea of something  Bombshell was in on, then.  Else you wouldn't be so damned cheery about it.

Mirage:

No, no, you've got it entirely backwards. *gestures, explaining* I got /caught,/ and /that/ was the best part. He was using me as a mole on an /Autobot/ base.

Mirage:

I know and reported certain matters that were between Decepticons, but that was more my... standard surveillance role, just at /his/ order.

Bonecrusher:

...*deadpan* I hate spies.  *this whole thing?  Completely lost him somewhere back at him getting it backwards.*

Tracks:

*slowly he catches up* ...So you were caught because he was having you do something you weren't good at.

Mirage:

Essentially. Discovered, chased /throughout/ the space station I was currently on, and finally pinned down and prevented from killing myself. That was the last if-then command I had in case of discovery.

Mirage:

*seems perfectly fine discussing /that/ part of the whole thing*

Tracks:

*Tracks frowns a little, still somewhat lost in the forest of Mirage's retelling* When you were discovered, they removed the cerebro-shell.

Mirage:

*nods*

Tracks:

Is that the last contact you had with him? Before here, I mean.

Mirage:

Essentially. I didn't exactly want to keep in touch. *dryly*

Bonecrusher:

What about him?  *cuts in - this is ground he kind of grasps, thankfully*

Mirage:

A few tidbits to remind me of our previous... association, from time to time. *shrugs, now somewhat uncomfortable again*

Tracks:

How? And what?

Mirage:

Oh, little taunts. Bits of poetry, from time to time. Coordinates once or twice.

Bonecrusher:

Coordinates, huh.  *Well isn't THAT a question dressed up as a statement*

Mirage:

There was nothing there whatsoever.

Mirage:

It was simply a reminder.

Tracks:

*Tracks leans forward, resting his crossed arms on the table, and looks at Mirage solemnly* How long did he have you?

Mirage:

A vorn, more or less.

Tracks:

*Dismayed is barely enough to cover the expression the Corvette is now adopting*

Bonecrusher:

When'd he stop communicating to you?  *frowning, still, but he's actually contemplating things now, rather than just being annoyed by the entire ordeal*

Mirage:

Oh, it was never terribly frequent. No pattern that I ever found. Just frequently enough that forgetting was, if ever possible at all, even more unlikely. *half-smiles, without humor*

Bonecrusher:

....When was the last  time he did it?  Before he got here, I mean.

Mirage:

Oh, a few meta-cycles.

Bonecrusher:

....Too recently for my tastes.

Mirage:

Too /frequently/ for mine.

Tracks:

That's not entirely surprising. *managing a little dryness, yes*

Bonecrusher:

*remains silent himself, looking rather thoughtful for a mech like him*

Mirage:

So it goes. Even if there /were/ others who lived, I couldn't imagine him... letting, ah, go. That readily.

Tracks:

*There's that uneasy feeling again* ...He likes to hold on, then?

Bonecrusher:

Not very surprising, though, is it?  A mech like Mirage being strong enough to hold out and just not quite  good enough to not get caught?  More stable mechs would be hard pressed to let go of him.

Mirage:

Thank you for your professional opinion. *is apparently still capable of intense sarcasm* However, I /will/ not /stay/ his - his /victim/ - even after I'm free of him. I won't let him do that to me.

Tracks:

...Would you be hiding so much if that were true?

Mirage:

That /is/ true. *fiercely* I won't /have/ every mech and femme on this base look at me and /know;/ I won't even /address/ what they already say, because they have no /need/ to know what happened.

Bonecrusher:

They aren't going  to know.  Who are we  going to tell?  *looking mildly at Mirage*  Besides the fact that you haven't told us a lot, I have no particular intention to go bringing more mechs into this.

Tracks:

Me either. *Shrugs* This is between us as far as I was concerned.

Mirage:

Which I appreciate. Bad enough that it happened at all; having the entirety of the base be aware of the particulars? *grimaces* I'd really rather not.

Bonecrusher:

I'll be sure to keep this all to myself.  *though he still looks a bit... too  thoughtful for a mech like him*

Tracks:

So you know you can tell us, and no one outside of this room will ever know.

Mirage:

I essentially /have/ told you. *sighs*

Bonecrusher:

Not everything.  *flatly*

Mirage:

*stiffens* I think you get the point.

Tracks:

*firmly* All of it, Mirage.

Mirage:

It was a whole /vorn./ He was inventive. It would take /another/ vorn to tell you everything.

Bonecrusher:

I ain't going anywhere.

Mirage:

I don't even know where I'd /start./ *draws back a little, shoulder-wheels pulling tight again*

Tracks:

*The look on Tracks' face says he's not entirely sure he -wants- to hear a vorn's worth of torture, but he says nothing of the sort*

Tracks:

*He reaches out again, another light touch on Mirage's arm, and gives an encouraging look* What haunts you most?

Mirage:

*As Mirage is trying not to look Tracks full in the face, this possibly goes unnoticed - but he leans into that light touch anyway* ...it... blurs, really.

Mirage:

I do hate him especially for making me act as though what was done wasn't coerced, but I wouldn't say that 'haunts me /most./'

Bonecrusher:

Then what does?

Mirage:

There's so much to choose from. It's hard to say. *just a bit bitter*

Bonecrusher:

....*sighs*  Pick something.

Mirage:

I hated it when he either outright forced me or manipulated events so that it was most expedient for me to... act as though what happened were not coerced. *curls his lip*

Tracks:

...I'd like to say I can imagine, sympathetically, but I think I'm glad I cannot. *He looks of mixed feelings, wanting to help, but.*

Bonecrusher:

You  should be glad that you can't.  I'm  starting to get annoyed that he's so slagging  good at this.

Mirage:

I beg your pardon -?

Bonecrusher:

Bombshell, that slagging bastard.  Tell me more.  *It's probably not GOOD for him to look this intensely interested, but he IS now.  Good job, Mirage, he wants every detail now.*

Mirage:

Not much more to tell. It was the cerebro-shell outright, not-terribly-veiled threats, or the awareness that it would - probably - hurt less that way. Take your pick.

Bonecrusher:

Let's start with the threats.  What'd he say to you?  How'd he threaten you?  Examples.  Mirage, I want to know everything.  *there's a growl in his voice as he says that*

Mirage:

I told you that you'd never seen how he re-animated the mechs I'd killed for him, and abused their personality modules. That was effective. Other times, he didn't need to be - overt.

Bonecrusher:

How  did he?  He made them violent?  Submissive?  Loyal?  You aren't telling  me anything.

Mirage:

He /made/ them at all. They acted... /exactly/ the same. The first time he did that, I tried to remind myself she was already dead, but it didn't /matter./

Bonecrusher:

Never mind the fact that he made them.  Reanimating them alone wouldn't be torture for a mech like you.  What did he do.

Mirage:

It /varied./ Often it meant he had two mechs at his nonexistent mercy for the price of one. Once, he let him - not live, but / continue/ - for approximately a week. Then remote-controlled him mid-conversation with me.

Tracks:

*ignoring the implications of Mirage's description for the moment (and repressing it for as long as he can), Tracks glances at Bonecrusher*

Tracks:

*He comms him briefly, privately, and with an edge of annoyance* ::You could sound a little less as though you're taking notes, you know.::

Bonecrusher:

*responds, distracted sounding almost* :: I'm not taking notes.  I want to know who I'm dealing with. ::

Mirage:

That... was more at the realization that of course Bombshell had heard everything I said that week to "Barrage." I didn't make /that/ mistake again, at least.

Bonecrusher:

*All Bonecrusher does is growl  in response, optics narrowing*

Tracks:

::I am saying how you -sound-.:: *He drops it though, taken aback at the growl, and looks down at the tabletop to gather his thoughts*

Mirage:

*falls quiet, since no one is prodding him for more information, and rests his head back in his hands. Mostly so he doesn't have to /look/ at either of them.*

Bonecrusher:

I'll kill him  for letting you get away like this.  *lowly*

Mirage:

*lifts his head and gives Bonecrusher a flat look* What do you mean.

Tracks:

*Tracks' optics widened as he looked at Bonecrusher again, this time with obvious disbelief*

Bonecrusher:

He broke you down so nicely and then he let you get away!  *growls*  And instead of making this so much easier  for you in the end he's just... FRAGGED EVERYTHING UP.

Mirage:

Explain. *flat, face not so much 'set' as 'blank.'*

Tracks:

*Tracks can't help but wait for an explanation as well, his own expression still of disbelief and now dismay as well*

Bonecrusher:

*The most he can do right now is pace a bit, rocking on the wheels in his feet*  If you hold on long enough,  it doesn't seem so bad  to them, and they kind of... accept it.  And then they don't hurt  later, if you let them go.

But you...  Oh, he did a number  on you.  You've got a self, and you've got a good memory, and he's just letting it fester.  *snarls*  I've killed mechs for far less.

Mirage:

I /told/ you. *chill* He ate them when they gave up. What did you think I meant?

Bonecrusher:

Then he's an idiot!

Mirage:

Why? They weren't /interesting/ to him anymore. He had his pick of /broken/ puppets.

Tracks:

*Tracks has now gone to blank face as well, but mostly because he has once against lost the thread of conversation*

Bonecrusher:

He could have...  *growls again, shaking his head and putting his hand to his face*  It's not important, Mirage.  Just know that I'll take care of him.

Mirage:

/I don't need you to./ *not... /quite/ a snarl*

Bonecrusher:

This isn't a matter of what you need, this is what you want,  isn't it?  *stalks forward, getting very close to Mirage's face*  I can make him go away.

Mirage:

/I/ can make him go away. *rises back up from his chair, hissing right back into Bonecrusher's face*

Bonecrusher:

I don't think you can.

Mirage:

/Don't you tell me I can't./

Tracks:

-Stop this-. *Sharply, raising his voice to cut across theirs with an edge of unsettled fear*

Mirage:

*blinks, and actually half-turns to direct some of his attention to Tracks - not all, but some*

Bonecrusher:

*doesn't look at Tracks - his optics are still locked on Mirage - but he does step back from the race car*

Tracks:

Really. *He glares at the both of them* We're not here to fight with each other.

Mirage:

I could prefer that outcome. *still eyeing Bonecrusher from the corner of his optic*

Tracks:

Too bad. *Imperious, why yes, just a bit* Keep sniping if you wish, but let's not descend to blows.

Bonecrusher:

*grumbles*  At least blows would be more direct than this fragger.

Mirage:

I'm being /far/ more direct than I'd prefer.

Bonecrusher:

Not direct enough.

Mirage:

You know what happened. What more do you /want?/ *frustrated*

Bonecrusher:

*he grunts, shaking his head*  Details, preferably.  *it's all more-or-less academic, really, other than the concept of figuring out Bombshell's style*

Mirage:

I think you have sufficient.

Bonecrusher:

You  might think so, but you also thought I wouldn't put two and two together in the first place.

Mirage:

More that I thought you wouldn't go to /this/ sort of extreme in your attempts to get the sordid details. *jerks his chin at the room*

Bonecrusher:

*leans in again, engine rumbling in annoyance*  Oh, but you didn't even give 'em to me in your sexy  voice.  How am I supposed to really enjoy them, otherwise?

Mirage:

*/snarls,/ pulling himself as high as he can, not backing down in the slightest* I suppose you must bring /that/ up, too. /Yes,/ to put it in /plain/ words, I whored myself to him.

Mirage:

And /yes/ he said as much. I don't /care/ if you say so, I don't /care/ how you /feel/ about it, as long as you leave me /alone!/ *And that last is almost a /scream./*

Tracks:

*Tracks stands then, quickly, lifting his hands before him, his voice slightly strained* Enough! Enough of this.

Tracks:

*He looks at Bonecrusher, optics slightly desperate but his tone is back to imperious* No more of this. He should be allowed to rest, at the least.

Bonecrusher:

*stares at Mirage, actually taken aback by his exclamation* .... *he pulls his optics away, looking at Tracks and giving him a brief nod.  Then - though he's not looking directly at Mirage (more a sideways glance):*

Bonecrusher:

You really think I'd call you a whore for any of that?  Fucking idiot.

Mirage:

Why not? *And now he's actually /trembling,/ from head to foot* It's true.

Bonecrusher:

*turns to look at Mirage fully, shaking his head*  It isn't true, you idiot.  *a glance to Tracks*  ...Again, this ain't leavin' this room, or I'll kill both of you and put your pretty little heads on pikes.

Bonecrusher:

*-and he steps forward and gives Mirage a very masculine type of one-armed hug - but only for a second!*

Bonecrusher:

*-and then he's stepping back and grr.*

Mirage:

*actually laughs - short and shaky, but a laugh* I shall keep that in mind.

Tracks:

*More than a little bemused and surprised, Tracks shakes his head slightly and then glances at Bonecrusher* Go ahead and go.

Bonecrusher:

....Yeah, whatever.  *still frowning at Mirage, kind of contemplative, really*  Fuckin' Autobots.  Not worth the energon y'all use up.  *he's heading for the door, though - he knows when he's really not good company*

Mirage:

Clearly not. *His tone of voice is remarkably dry, coming a little closer to its normal strength, even though he's about two seconds from taking hold of the back of the chair to support himself*

Tracks:

Go! *He practically herds Bonecrusher to the door, following him to close it behind the mining vehicle, just a little tersely* Out!

Bonecrusher:

YEAH YEAH, PRIMUS ALMIGHTY YER FUCKIN' PUSHY!  *He was going!  SHEESH!*

Mirage:

*Under the circumstances, surely nobody can blame Mirage's quiet chuckle for being /ever/ so slightly hysterical?*

Tracks:

*Rolling his optics, Tracks closes the door firmly behind Bonecrusher, the room rather suddenly, blissfully, silent in his wake*

Mirage:

*And Mirage gives in and takes hold of that convenient chair-back to steady himself*

Tracks:

*Almost briskly, Tracks keys the lights down in his room and makes sure things are straightened around his room. When he ends up standing beside Mirage, he's almost uncertain, wings angled downward*

Mirage:

*By the time Tracks is done, Mirage is visibly drooping, though he doesn't seem to realize it* ...I'm still not entirely sure what the point of this... exercise was. Perhaps it will be clearer in the morning. *glances up at Tracks*

Tracks:

*The Corvette shakes his head again and reaches out to turn Mirage in the direction of his berth and walk him towards it* We can only hope.

Mirage:

Mmn. I hadn't meant to say /any/ of that... *Mirage lets himself be steered with alarming docility, placing his feet as though lifting them is an effort*

Tracks:

It doesn't leave this room. *He says quietly, nudging the other mech onto the berth - privately relieved that he's going along so easily, having anticipated some small argument, if nothing else.*

Mirage:

*Mirage already had that internal battle with himself /before/ he came to Tracks's room, ambush or no ambush. Pride is a funny thing.* ...thank you.

Tracks:

What are friends for? *Tracks crawls onto it after Mirage with a faint smile, and doesn't give him time to object or pull away before he's wrapping his arms around the other Autobot tightly*

Mirage:

Ask me in the morning. *But he's smiling as he says it, only able to hold out for a few moments before going limp in Tracks's embrace*

Tracks:

*He'd like to say it was entirely altruistic, but he needed it almost as badly after that. Tracks jockeys them around enough to lie down, only loosening his grip as needed. With Mirage between him and the wall, he relaxes a little, finally*

Mirage:

*Securely nestled between Tracks and the wall, apparently not ashamed at all to hold on tight to the Corvette, Mirage collapses into /much/-needed recharge almost as soon as he's horizontal*

Tracks:

*Relieved by that, Tracks is online a while longer, but before he follows Mirage into recharge he squeezes him again, tightly, and murmurs an apology to audials that won't even hear it. Then he's gone as well, until morning.*