Mental Resistance (Intersectionality)

Protoform X, evidently, didn't possess the same level of restraint. After about twenty cycles of Imperious' increasingly frantic attempts to breach the shuttle's security system, the Point One Percenter hopped to his feet, gave a strangled gurgle, and charged at Imperious. The Destructon backhanded him, sending him spinning, then unhinged his jaw and bathed X in a Technicolor inferno. X babbled to himself, evidently in a world of his own.


[...]

Imperious looked over the other four injured Cybertronians and made some kind of decision. He cuffed Crazybolt, Trans-Mutate and X, then picked up Hard Head and walked towards the dragontopped-ziggurat.

[...]

The screams startled Crazybolt back to instant wakefulness. Given the aches originating from every quadrant of his body, he almost wished he hadn't. From where he lay, he could see Protoform X on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, and Bazooka, who was leaning against some crumbling stonework, similarly bound. Bazooka seemed to be in a state of shock, staring off at a fixed point on the horizon, and Crazybolt could hardly blame him. X was ranting. "His torment is but a pale shadow of my own! He appreciates it not, doesn't savor the exquisite agony. Whole worlds shall suffer and die, and I will be there to share in their pain! I am the disciple of anguish, the prophet of misery."

Crazybolt had had enough. "Shut up you point one freak! That's my friend being tortured, not some kind of bizarre object of your twisted obsession!"

The hulking Predacon actually stopped his babble and focused in on Crazybolt. "Your leader is not long for this world. My litany is not meant to trivialize his suffering, but to celebrate it."

"Forgive my friend," came Trans-Mutate's voice from somewhere close behind Crazybolt. He tilted his head and could see her lying about a mechanometer behind him. "He, and I, do not process the world the way most do. But we mean no offense."

"Sometimes I mean offense," grumbled X.