Archive of Our Own ^beta

He was there.

He was there because Helex told him to be there.

That inherent trust was something Helex did not take for granted. It was deeply appreciated and made something in his processor tick pleasantly. Any other mech would’ve regretted placing so much faith in someone like him; a vile concoction of freedom, power and sadism. Oh, yes, Helex was amongst the nastiest of the DJD members. Only the deeply disturbed would find mirth in their long list of crimes, of course: murder in enough degrees to melt a mech, kidnapping, torture, cruel and unusual punishment… blah, blah, blah.

But Helex?

Amongst the DJD, there were three that used their unique builds to their advantages. He was among them. See, attached to the front of his chassis was a weapon that, while perhaps not as deadly as hundreds of rotating blades, was still iconic for its usage in drawn-out cruelty. The process was simple, really; a mech went in. A mech did not come out. Helex laughed. That was it.

To have that shadow there, standing ominously between the craggly spires of twisted metal… oh, it had something in his spark blazing. It was hard to tell that he was there at all, save for the blazing blue optics that had attention for him (and only him). Despite that ghastly Autobot color they were composed of, they satiated something deep within the smelter– the same something that was soothed post-execution. The optics blinked once and then twice and then disappeared. Helex grinned before re-focusing on the task at hand, which was the tail end of Tarn’s mildly insufferable monologuing.

“And when you test those limits, test them and attempt to break them... I have no choice but to break you. You understand, do you not?” A soft, silky purr that never failed to send all of Helex’s plates crawling; sometimes he believed Tarn’s talent to be wasted on boring speeches and would be better suited to some sort of theatrical occupation. He shook his head and tried to refocus once more, swiping his glossa around his lips in anticipation. Tarn had finished his speech and was gesturing to Helex with a careless hand. “Take care of her,” his boss sniffed, whipping around and folding down into his alternative mode.

The mech they’d ensnared in their trap was hunched on the ground, displaying an entirely appropriate amount of fear. Her wide stare watched as the feared leader of the Decepticon Justice Division took his leave, then turned on Helex. They glistened with fluid and that only increased his satisfaction.

From the darkness, a shape made form as he came closer; he was a couple of meters shorter than Helex and significantly spikier. Sunder took up his position at his companion’s side and stared downwards, his delight hardly concealed.

“A treat? For me? Sunder rumbled, clasping his hands in front of his chassis as if in thanks for the delicious meal he was about to consume. One of Helex’s outer arms rested a soothing hand on his shoulder, chuckling quietly.

“I fear not. Tarn is very particular about what we do when on the job,” he replied, watching the mech attempt to scoot out of his line of sight. She’d been quietly trembling on the ground for the entirety of their meeting with the assumption they were too absorbed in each other to keep an optic on her. Deciding he could spare a moment more, Helex pitched forward and dragged his glossa across the corner of Sunder’s mouth and to the angle of his cheek, leaving moisture behind that glittered in the electric pink of Helex’s biolights. Sunder stood for a moment, very still, and then broke into a grin.

And just as their victim’s palms met the ground in an attempt to catapult her body upwards, Sunder’s servo darted out to snag her by the leg and give her a firm yank back towards them. Her helm hit the flood cruelly as she was hoisted up several tens of feet and passed to the smelter, who gratefully accepted.

“Why, thank you.”

“Of course, the one I cherish so deeply that I wish to strip him of all of his parts and wear them as a secondary level of plating.”

Helex’s momentum paused and he tilted his head. “What?”

Sunder’s smile, impossibly, grew larger. “Nothing. I like you.”

Helex was briefly tempted to pursue the unusual compliment but decided against it. As his eyes searched Sunder’s, his smelter began to glow; it was a cutting orange that stained his stormy blue armor a rich burgundy, almost matching his companion. The bot in his arms took this as her cue to start flailing and screaming, kicking at his arm with her free pede. As useless as each clunk was, it began to irritate him very quickly. Dropping the happy expression from his face, his denta bared and a low growl grew in his vocalizers. Liquified remnants of past victims sloshed against the glass of his smelter as if reminding her of her imminent fate. “Quit.”

She did not quit and so a long sigh left him, the doors of his smelter folding out of the way. The blast of stored heat that hit them was so uncomfortable that Sunder took several steps out of range, his plates bristling in the nearest to affronted he’d ever get. Helex flashed him an apologetic grin before he angled the poor mech appropriately. Her voice began to crack and tear from the force of her screams and by the time she was lowered into the chamber, no sounds escaped the parted intake. He folded the rest of her limbs in and then pushed the door shut with a smaller arm.

“How cruel!” Sunder exclaimed with no small amount of joy, siddling closer to put both of his hands on the warm glass, watching with fascination as the victim pounded on the glass and silently wailed for freedom.

First went the softer, thinner outer layers of metal. They drooped and curled, rounding her edges. After that, the armor began to bubble as the energon inside of her hit its boiling point. This led to pink spilling from her optics and mouth, dribbling down to join the liquified metal at the bottom of the chamber.

Helex didn’t allow him to see much more, because one of his smaller hands was grabbing the other mech’s chin and using it to guide his face upwards. They locked gazes for several long moments before the smelter asked, “like what you see?” The playful grin he got in return was answer enough; Sunder was certainly enjoying the show. And if there was any doubt, the mnemosurgeon’s body pressing against his own erased it. Out of courtesy, Helex leant down, bringing his face closer to Sunder’s. The smaller mech wasted no time in grabbing either side of his helm, pinky digits pressing into the guard that ran along his jaw, and lightly pressing their lips together.

Forgotten, the thumping trailed off.

Helex’s larger servos wasted no time in finding a home on Sunder’s back, pushing them a little closer. Their kiss only grew deeper by the second though remained languid.

Unlike Tarn, Helex didn’t care so much for the “Justice Division” portion of the D.J.D. It was an easy way to get away with the crimes he wanted to commit and be protected in the process. A large part of him quite enjoyed his status as a folk tale, a story you told newly-forged mechs as a lesson or as a warning. He was a Cybertronian boogeyman. And he liked it very much, even if it limited what he could and couldn’t do. Having romantic relations with an Autobot-–however twisted--was certainly on the list of unmentionables. Yet he found himself so painfully drawn to Sunder because this was someone who understood. Not every day did you meet someone who appreciated the taste of another mech, that realized there was more to the world than “good” and “bad.” One who celebrated sins such as his. And sure, Sunder was lovely to look at.

That was a risk he was willing to take.