• He was shaking.

    Sure, he’d shook before. In pain, in anger, because it was cold… but never this way before. The area around him was dim, nothing but crates surrounding him. He shouldn’t be like this… he was strong…

    …so why was he crying?

    Before, nothing bothered him except the safety and welfare of his comrades and son. Armies? Viruses? Heh, he could take them all. Well, that’s what he thought anyway. But right now, he couldn’t take on anything. The strong mech others looked up to was gone, the never give up attitude faded, the courage reduced to fear of shadows and everything else around.

    Shaking intakes and wracked sobs were the only noise in the room as more tear fluid fell down the mechs face, dripping off of his dark chin and landing on the floor below. Never before had he ever felt this frail and weak, so afraid, so alone on this problem, so full of terror and fright…

    That was why he’d come here. The storage bays was where almost everyone went to get away, to just break down in the eerie silence, no one around to stop them or see them in their weak state. He’d never had to come down here before unless it was to search for another, usually their medic when he would have a problem leading to one of his emotional breakdowns. The four crate surrounded walls was almost comforting, the cold quiet suffocating his battle-worn audios.

    He tried to calm himself down, but each and every time, the shaking would increase, the fear heightening to a point where he couldn’t control it anymore. Tears continued to stream freely down his face, adding to the puddle on the floor as a shadowed figure took over his processor, blocking his logic, if any. The shadow slowly started to disappear, the frame slim and slender, a seductive look piercing through his CPU. The mechs intakes shallowed as the other slowly started to walk towards him, hips swaying side to side. He tried to say something, but nothing came out but a pathetic whimper, his legs instinctively crossing over each other as he attempted to scramble backwards, only to realise he was already pressed up against the wall.

    He shut his optics as the figure stopped, bending down in front of him, a sly finger running down his arm, heading to that one spot…

    “Cannonball!”

    The green mech’s black optics shot open as two yellow arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Not being able to control himself anymore, Cannonball broke down, hugging the yellow femme back, shaking, tears splashing on the floor as they ran down his faceplates. She didn’t loosen her trip at all, not even when he tightly returned it, burying his helm into her chestplate to try and hide from the frightening silhouette which plagued his CPU every night and day as if trying to remind him of the torture he’d had to withstand as her personal slave, her toy, her thing of which she could do whatever she wanted to…