9-Volt

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"stay the fuck away from me. i'm asking you nicely."

blue's voice is rough, like gravel. he is cornered, white uniformed workers staring him down with shock batons in their hands. there is no subtlety in his threat, and his heaving chest and labored breath only adds to the gruff crunch that tails his angered words. he's been chased down, shot, temporarily disabled, anything oculus's workers could do to try and stop him from wreaking havoc in the facility; however, he's a machine, metal and gears, and his opposers are only just human. they couldn't withstand the crushing blows a robotic body could deliver, even if they tried.

"blue, robot number t-l 9274081, you must return to your work post immediately-" a robotic voice announces over the intercom, and blue tears it from the wall, throwing it harshly into an incoming employee. the white-clad man shouts in pain before hitting the wall, blood dripping from the cracked point of impact. his mic goes silent in the headphones of his peers, and they hesitate to move forward for a moment, giving blue the time he needs to escape.

with his heels skidding on the white tiles, he begins to run off into the other wing of oculus's facility, eyes darkened with hatred and anger as he could hear the surprised shouting of the workers behind him trying to catch him once more and return him to normal.

blue doesn't like being feral. he doesn't like remembering what he did to the boy he left behind, doesn't like the teeth-grinding memories of pain that flash through his head as oculus forcefully removed his memory chip many years ago. he can't help remembering these things whenever his failsafe activates, a part of him implemented to save the most important parts of his previous chip.

it shoved the most painful memories that had been removed from him back into his head, selfish decisions and horrible ideas flooding his mind. his hands slip on the floor for a moment as he runs, a result of a painful memory resurfacing, but he catches himself and keeps running, running until he cannot run anymore.

when blue regained some sort of control of his own body, he looked around himself, realizing that his body had brought him to the dormitories where the workers reside. he knows why he's here. his body had brought him here for one reason, and one reason only.

"vicente," blue breathes, his gaze dark, the hydraulics in his legs hissing with every heavy step he takes.

--

rocket knows what comes of blue when he gets like this. he knew that the other liked to discharge all of the negative energy that builds up within him as he grows more and more feral; there were tell-tale shifts around the facility when the outdated robot began to run wild. firstly, his steps became incredibly heavy and slow, except for when he was running. these could be heard everywhere. secondly, his eyes grew dilated and crazy, moving rapidly as they scanned everything they could. thirdly, the facility went into lockdown, and lastly.. everytime the other got this way, his instincts would always lead him to rocket's dormitory.

no matter how hard the blond would try to pull away and go somewhere else, it was like his body was wired to head towards the bitter male's bedroom. rocket knew this like the back of his hand, and whenever the robot entered, be it by force or rocket letting him in, they would sit on rocket's bed in silence and often, the dark as well, until the blond's hunched back slowly grew straighter and his heavy, animalistic breathing stilled into his machinery's regulated tempo.

as the alarm in his room blinked red every other second, rocket gave a vocal sigh, pushing himself off of his bed to turn his lights off and wait for blue to arrive. it was not more than a few seconds after that that he could hear the steady whirr and click of the robot's heavy metallic steps stomping down the hall, the sound of his voice droning "vicente" aloud with every clunk of his shoe on the ground. there's a loud creak outside of rocket's room and rocket calls aloud for the room to open his door.

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 27, 2018 ⏰

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9-volt | non-canon | nsfwWhere stories live. Discover now