This is an answer to a bunny (listed below), and quite frankly, I'm pretty sure it's not one of my better works. Please keep that in mind.

Of Two Worlds

Cliffjumper snarled to himself as he stared across the rec room, blue optics flaring with icy rage. The mech his attention was fixed upon was oblivious to that, smiling at whatever was being said to him.

It made his energon boil.

The first lesson Cliffjumper had learned was that there were two types of mechs – those from the Towers, and those from the Slums. The former were considered to be of great worth to the Cybertronian society, irreplaceable despite being processor-dead from vorns of decadence and orgies. The latter were worth little more than the cheapest energon, only meant to work so that the 'Aristocrats' could lead a lazy and gluttonous existence.

Cliffjumper was sparked in the Slums, and that was the first thing he had learned. While he and his friends suffered cold, hunger and discomforts from too hard a work, those from the Towers were clean, well-fed, smirking smugly or sneering in disgust at them when they ventured away from their pristine haven and amongst those 'dirty lower mechs'.

Even the one Cliffjumper was watching at the moment was clean, beautiful and delicate looking, as if he would crumble if he was put to honest hard work. Why else would the slagger decide to join the Special Ops? So he wouldn't have to work among those of lower status, that's what the minibot claimed.

It made his energon boil in his pumps.

Cliffjumper hated Towers mechs with a passion. This was caused by one simple reason – when he had been barely a youngling, he and his bearer had been taken in by one of those disgusting egoists, to work as servants. It had seemed so wonderful a thought at first – they wouldn't have to stay in the dirt-ridden Slums, and work simply at cleaning and preparing Energon for someone Cliffjumper had then still believed to be 'the better mech'. Turned out he wasn't much better than Megatron – they had to slave in their new 'home', his bearer berated and beat up for anything done wrong (according to the mech), then forced to spread her legs and allowing that piece of regurgitated oil to sate himself on her body. Cliffjumper had later learned his bearer had only done that, because their 'Master' had threatened to take his lust on him, her only offspring.

They had spent vorns in that Hell, and no Towers mech would help them. From what he knew, many of them that lived alone did exactly that – found a mech or femme in the Slums that struck their fancy, took her or him in under the pretense of offering them a better existence, then turn them into little more than slaves or whores. And even that didn't last forever – the moment a younger femme appeared, he and his bearer had been thrown back into the Slums. His bearer, however, had been so damaged by that merciless time that she barely survived another vorn before her overworked systems failed and crashed, leaving him an orphan.

He had survived being treated as little more than the military-builts, and since then had rebuilt his sense of worth, watched as the Towers fell in glee, fought arms in arms with mechs previously believed to be better than him. He was part of a team, an Autobot, while his torturer was later revealed as a Decepticon. Cliffjumper had been the one to gun him down, to avenge his bearer's pain. He was a mech now, important for simply being himself.

But then he came. Towers mech, he could tell from the moment he had first seen him. Beautiful and slim, fast on his wheels and intelligent. He had been nearly immediately accepted into the ranks of Special Ops, gained friends among them. He had even heard Optimus Prime praising the useless little shit.

Cliffjumper could only stare as rage bubbled just under his plating. In his optics, Mirage's features morphed into those of his bearer's torturer and rapist, his shy smiles changing into sneers and smug smirks. Each of his actions seemed to scream that he was not only a true spy, but a Decepticon spy at that, just like that mech had been.

The minibot's frame nearly vibrated with the need to smash something.

Even now, he had to get up and leave before he did something stupid. He recognised that a mech able to turn invisible was an asset to the Autobots, but that didn't mean he had to be polite to the guy. All they needed was to stay far away from each other, and that would be that.

However, fate had different ideas in store for him.


He had been standing guard in the entrance to the Ark, bored out of his processor, and thinking about Mirage to entertain himself. Thoughts of how smug he was, how self-important, how the officers cuddled him. It disgusted him, made him angry, made him want to howl. But then again, it was the perfect way to get in the mood for some vigorous work-out he had planned for after his shift.

Then, a tap on his shoulder, and he had turned around to see the mech in question, smiling hesitantly at him.

"Good evening, Cliffjumper, yes? I am to tell you Ratchet would like to see you for your physical after your shift. Would that be fine, or should I tell Ratchet not to wait for you?"

Cliffjumper had snarled. This Towers mech was so lazy he couldn't even take guard like them all, oh no, he was being used as a messenger bot for the CMO himself. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right to cuddle him, nevermind how young he was, it wasn't fair to treat him any different from the rest of them. It was Towers/Slums all over again, and Cliffjumper refused for that order to be re-established!

It never appeared to him that Mirage was maybe just doing the CMO a favor because he had just finished having his own physical.

Cliffjumper had just jumped on the blue frame, and slammed his fist into the startled face. Mirage went down in his shock, a fact that the minibot took full use of, hitting the bigger bot over and over, ignoring his yelps and cries and pleas for him to stop. He just pounded away all of his frustration at this spoiled little Towers mech, this Decepticon spy, this torturer of his bearer.

This was the sight Ironhide and Hound stumbled upon.

The two run up to them, the Weapon Specialist grabbing at the enraged minibot. He pulled him off the blue body, and slapped his facial plates to snap him out of his frenzy.

"What the Pit are you doing?!" he demanded in a scream, shaking him. He continued yelling his vocalizer off, even as Cliffjumper looked to the side at what was left of the 'proud Towers mech'.

Mirage was laying curled up on his side, arms wrapped tightly around his head, whole frame shivering as quiet sobs left his vocalizer. As the minibot watched, Hound kneeled next to him, and spoke softly to him, shushing him. A gentle green hand wrapped around Mirage's, helping the bot to get back onto his peds carefully. Cliffjumper nearly sneered in distaste at how fragile the spy was being handled, wanted to snap at Hound for coddling a deprived slag-heap.

But then Mirage looked towards him.

Golden optics were wide in confusion and pain, fear etched onto every feature of his facial plates. Dents and open wounds were visible everywhere Cliffjumper had attacked.

And suddenly, Mirage's features morphed into the features of his bearer, beat up and confused as to why. He could nearly see her as she rocked in pain and grief, see that action in the way Mirage clung to Hound's arm, tried to hide behind it from Cliffjumper's gaze.

"C'mon, let's get you to Ratchet." Hound said, and guided the shaky blue legs into the direction of Sickbay. Cliffjumper watched them go, the pain accompanying the memories of his bearer raging through his spark.

He felt no better than a Towers mech at that moment.


Bunny by lapinporokoira of lj

There were the Towers, and then there were the Slums.
We all know Mirage is a Towers mech, and from the Slums? Cliffjumper. Even war cannot chase away the age old differences and animosity. Cliffjumper suffered under a Towers mech and can't help but see that mech's face on Mirage.