Author Notes: This entire concept started as the run-of-the-mill 'Shockwave takes Blurr' idea. I felt like jumping on the bandwagon. My subconscious, however, began to show me bits of pieces that involved more than just Blurr as I slept. My brain does that.

Yay, crack concept!

Anyway, then I met BBPuyo of Deviantart. And we talked a lot. And it became this little crazy thing that it is now. And then I figured, 'what the heck'.

So.. Here's the start of this crazy ride which may or may not get more insane as time goes on. There's going to be clear influences from other fics, so if you see something vaguely familiar, just assume it was inspired by elsewhere.

This is technically AU, so.. I'm going to be messing with certain details. Just a warning.

WARNING: Will eventually have non-con in a giant space robot sort of way. For now, there's just light molestation. Yay!


Living life inside a dream

Time is changing everything

Forgetting all the memories

And I'm forced in to you

Just 'cause you're in to me

You've never been so used as I'm using you

Abusing you, my little decoy

Don't look so blue

You should have seen right through

I'm using you, my little decoy

My little decoy

-- "Decoy", Paramore


Souvenir: Chapter One

Whatever had happened, Cliffjumper decided, he probably wasn't going to like it. After all, he could count on one servo the amount of times he had woken up from a forced unconsciousness, and the previous two times had been from rather stupid stunts of his own design.

It didn't help one bit that he couldn't actually recall why he was unconscious in the first place. Why he was so exhausted was a mystery as well; one would think waking up would bring more energy, not less.

As the dancing flashes of spots before his optics began to fade and a quick diagnostic run revealed no real damage beyond a dent on the back of his helm, one answer revealed itself in the form of stasis cuffs. From what he could feel and see, he was on the floor and on his side, staring directly at the metal braces around his wrists.

Well, that at least explained that much, but, oh, how he hated stasis cuffs. Energy-sapping things that he had worn quite a few times in his trouble-causing youth, but none of those had been quite as strong as these. Military-grade cuffs, perhaps; he could barely move for the lack of strength it allowed him.

The larger questions continued to remain: Where was he, why was he wearing stasis-cuffs, and was high-grade possibly involved?

Cliffjumper had to force himself to move, arguing with his own frame to tilt his head up enough to perhaps get a glimpse of where he was. For the moment, he was far too confused and annoyed to be worried.

Still, he shuttered his optics several times to be certain what he was seeing was actually there; the almost impossibly still frame of another bot lay within arm's reach. Well, if he had been able to move his arms, that is.

It took his drained processor a moment to recall who the other mech was; Field Agent Blurr, if he was recalling correctly. An Agent under his superior's command. He had never spoken with the younger bot for more than a few cycles at a time, but he had a feeling the Agent shouldn't have been as still as he was.

His superior; Longarm Prime. Something at the back of his processor tingled uncomfortably, as if he had forgotten something very, very important.

After a moment, he noticed all three sets of stasis cuffs on the other frame; two on his wrists and the third at his pedes. Yet, Blurr's optics somehow remained online -- although dimmed -- and staring right at him; a small miracle in itself with all those cuffs on him.

The red minibot was thoroughly shocked to see Blurr's mouth slowly opening and closing; he was clearly trying to speak but the cuffs robbed him of the energy to do so. After a short cycle, the cerulean mech gave up; instead, the Autobot Elite Guard insignia on his chassis began to flash on and off.

Autobot visual code. It flashed quicker than Cliffjumper had ever seen before, but it wasn't impossible to read.

How did you get in this mess? There was no code for punctuation, but assumptions were made.

It was a very good question; Cliffjumper had to strain to recall. Despite the strong, continuous sap of energy, he found he was able to speak. He couldn't get his voice synthesizer to go above a whisper, but it was better than nothing. "Something.. About a comm..?"

Recollection hit like a brick to the head.


Longarm Prime had forgotten to hang up the comm.

He could remember the slight worry he had felt when the Prime had called about the space bridge nexus; Longarm had always been the sort to inflict punishment with nothing more than disappointment, but a gloomy boss was still an unhappy thing to deal with.

"The entire network's been shut down, sir! Ultra Magnus's orders! Apparently, the 'cons are trying to transwarp their way to Cybertron!"

A flitter of worry crossed Longarm's faceplate. "Well.. We.. Can't let that happen, can we?"

That was when Blurr ran in behind the Prime; Longarm had been so startled that he hadn't thought to hang up the line. Cliffjumper had only been able to watch in stunned silence as his boss -- the head of the Intelligence Division, no less -- revealed himself as the traitor and trapped Blurr with their own security system.

What just happened? This was Longarm Prime! He couldn't have..!

Cliffjumper felt as if his processor had frozen over and he was still staring at the screen when Longarm Prime returned to the office. The personal assistant had been so flabbergasted by what he had witnessed that he couldn't do much more than look up when the Prime called his name.

"Agent Cliffjumper?" Longarm had stared with slightly widened optics. "Are you all right? You look like you've.." Then, he had stared at the sideways tilted screen.

Cliffjumper had stood slowly, not saying a word. He had ranted on more than a few occasions about what he would do to a traitor if he ever had his servos on one, yet found himself at that moment speechless and unable to move.

"..Agent Cliffjumper.." Longarm suddenly bore a very dark, very uncharacteristic smirk. "You do realize that the panic button you're tapping madly under that desk of yours leads directly to me, right?"

The next thing he had known, his head was meeting the wall in a very painful fashion.


The red minibot groaned. "..Our boss is a traitor."

You found out about it, too, then. That's why we're in here. Blurr was visibly frightened despite lethargy. We're probably slagged in so many ways that there probably isn't a proper word for how slagged we are.

Cliffjumper would have been banging his head on the floor had he been able. "Don't suppose you can move, huh?"

Blurr managed to give an incredulous stare. Right now, I can barely keep out of recharge.

"Great. Just fantastic." Cliffjumper grumbled, annoyance overriding fear. "Guess we're stuck waiting."


The wait ended up being longer than either of them had anticipated. Most of the time was spent recharging; the stasis cuffs simply robbed them of the ability to do much else. Conversation was exhausting and struggling was outright impossible. So, they waited.

Nearly two full solar cycles came and went before anything happened. The first sign was the unusual soft hiss of a door sliding open. Somehow, the quiet sound awoke both Autobots from slumber.

The two bots exchanged wary glances as loud steps echoed; they would not have even heard the soft return of sound if they hadn't been so close to the floor. It was Blurr who realized what it meant.

We're on a ship! A small craft probably, but we're definitely on a ship and not inside -- He stopped flashing as the door directly in front of them slid open.

Two sets of clear blue optics widened at the sight of the towering gray Decepticon; the single slitted optic stared back with a face devoid of expression. The flat faceplate and protruding optic gave a frightening air under normal circumstance and now it was simply terrifying.

They had both been so focused on who was standing in front of them that neither had noticed what a clawed servo held. At least, not until the large, gleaming hammer fell to the floor and let out a resounding thud.

Blurr gaped in horror; Cliffjumper took in a sharp intake but was able to verbalize what had crossed both bound Autobots' minds. "Holy slag, that's..!"

The Decepticon -- Shockwave -- let out a soft chuckle and nudged Ultra Magnus's hammer towards the wall. "Ancient history, now."

They had both been so engrossed in the thoroughly horrifying concept that Ultra Magnus may very well be off-line that they had almost missed when Shockwave began to move towards them. Along the way, gray armor shifted and changed in to the now disturbingly familiar form of Longarm.

The double-agent stood between the two bound mechs, bearing a dark and sinister expression that neither would have ever imagined on his faceplate. A smirk was sent towards Cliffjumper and then towards Blurr.

Longarm -- Shockwave -- whatever his name was -- knelt by the visibly terrified blue mech. A servo gently caressed a smooth white faceplace; Blurr flinched in response.

"Finally." The exasperated, yet pleased statement came from the shapeshifter nanoseconds before he grabbed both sides of a crested helm; then, he claimed Blurr's white lips with his own.

Cliffjumper openly gaped; he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Even the knowledge that Longarm was the traitor -- had been the traitor, had always been the traitor -- didn't quite allow in the simple facts of what was occurring now. It wasn't until a soft, yet clear sound rent the air that the minibot was able to shake himself out of the denial.

Blurr squeaked. It was a sound of protest and likely the closest thing to a scream he could make.

"Get your Primus-damned servos off him..!" Cliffjumper hissed.

Surprisingly, Longarm did as told; he looked up and back with the same dark grin that was starting to aggravate Cliffjumper's temper. Without any real response, he turned on still kneeling pedes to stare at the red mech that had been his personal assistant.

Longarm let out an amused chuckle before changing form back in to Shockwave. The cyclopian optic bore down on the minibot as a servo slowly hovered over his frame. A single claw set itself on the black and red-painted side before the sharp digit began to trace the armored seams.

Cliffjumper jolted in shock; his mouth opened and closed rapidly in the attempt to verbalize some sort of protest beyond the disturbed horror. The claw slowly made it's way down and was on his waist before a sharp beeping caused the Decepticon to stop.

Shockwave looked up towards the front of the craft. With what sounded like a grunt of disappointment, he stopped his ministrations and stood. Then, he left that section of the ship entirely; the door slid shut behind him.

Blurr's intakes were coming in rapidly, optics wide; Cliffjumper wasn't much different, sound still failing to emit. Despite the shock, both captives still felt it when a slight rumble went through the floor.

They exchanged frightened, silent glances; the craft was moving.


I'm not sorry at all

Not sorry at all, not sorry

No, I won't be sorry at all

Not sorry at all, not sorry, no

I'd do it over again

Don't look so blue

My little decoy

You should have seen right through

My little decoy

As I'm using you

My little decoy

-- "Decoy", Paramore