Eye of the Storm
by Nicole J. Coltan
Fate whispers to the warrior, "You can not withstand the storm."
The warrior whispers back, "I am the storm."
Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Transformers, nor am I associated with Hasbro. I merely own my Original Character.
Chapter One: Madness.
Grant's Junkyard.
It had been a last minute effort to throw them off his track and despite his initial hesitation to admit the truth to himself, ceasing all contact with humans proved to be a rather daunting task to accomplish.
It merely irked his irritation more—knowing that there was nothing else he could do but sit back and wait for further instructions. The oath he had sworn kept him from ripping them asunder—to think that this was the gratitude that humanity bestowed upon them?
Patetico, the mech grumbled to himself as he assessed the damage inflicted upon him—a price he had payed for having lowered his guard. He had been in the process of answering to Prime's calls when the brunt of the force had knocked him down, the pain being nothing but a burning ache.
He had underestimated the humans, another mistake he was fortunate enough to make. To think that his kind was being slaughtered like common vermin and for what—? To prove themselves superior?
Having found himself on the outskirts of some town in North Dakota—Devils Lake—the mech was more than pleased to learn that he had put an entirety of 819 miles between him and them.
Those damned fleshies. He was in need of some serious repairs and a new paint job—something the mech doubted he'd be getting any soon. It had been obvious from the start that if he should succeed in eluding them from his trail, a much less obvious appearance would do the trick.
Primus help him if the twins were to see him now, he'd never live it down. He was having a hard time accepting it himself but knowing that no other option had presented itself, what was the mech to do but take on the form of a rusted Ferrari 288 GTO?
It was a disgrace to himself—him being a mech who took pride in his appearance had been rendered to—he dared not think further.
Irritation spiking further at the current situation he found himself within, the mech could blame no other but himself. But as tedious as it was, he supposed the outcome could have been far worse.
The skies above him rumbled in sudden warning, lighting and thunder intermeshing in a battle against all odds stacked against them—and only then as the first tears fell, did Mirage allow himself to breathe.
He allowed himself to think of a time where the thought of peace had been welcoming gesture; a thought that was quick to diminish once he processed the events that had transpired in the past two meta–cycles.
The tables have turned against them and despite his initial surprise that it had taken the humans so long, Mirage found himself more impressed than anything else.
His chassis ached—the pain of his scuffle with the group known as Cemetery Wind still ever present. It would seem that his audio receptors had been damaged, which made hearing somewhat difficult as the mech could hear the distant sound of static crackling in the background—a bothersome sound that made Mirage growl in frustration.
Glowering at nothing in particular, the irritation within him dimmed down as rain continued to beat against his rusted frame. Slaggin' glitches, the mech thought to himself as he regarded his appearance with self loathing.
Mirage had been in the process of going into recharge —a multitude of warnings having gone off in the past two groons— when his sensors picked up on movement. Slag it all.
Recalling his previous mistake at having underestimated the humans, Mirage readied himself for the inevitable. Had it not been for his cloaking system being damaged, hiding in plain sight would have been much easier but considering that was not an option available at the time—. "Jesus Christ!"
It had not been one of his finest moments but considering the situation, Mirage prided himself at not having lost himself to the rage pooling within his spark. "Please just give me a break! Just one. Is that too much to ask for?"
Confused at the sudden outburst, Mirage found himself apprehensively watching the human meander about—flashlight poised in front of them, Mirage would be fooling himself at admitting that he wasn't curious at the events transpiring before him (not that he'd admit it aloud).
The human seemed harmless in their silent search for something—from the looks of it all, a canine with the designation Milo. Remaining vigilant about the whole situation, the mech continued to observe the human from afar.
Femme, Mirage identified the more he listened to the soft feminine lilt of the human's voice, but considering that it was nothing but pitch black around them, the mech couldn't be sure.
The bright light passed over him and Mirage prided himself at the fact that he remained completely still—and for a moment, silence reigned truth. "You," knuckles rapped against his hood, "—didn't kill my dog, did you?"
It was the last thing he expected the femme to say.
AN: I am aware that this chapter is immensely short but considering that I needed to get this idea outta my head to focus on the other two stories pending to be updated, I decided I'd give it a shot and see where it'll take me. This is not meant to be taken seriously, so if I get anything wrong—please point out my mistake and I'll do my best to correct it.
This takes place a few months before the start of Age of Extinction; so that will give me ample of enough time to get you all use to my Original Character.
I am not an expert on writing different perspectives, especially characters like Mirage so please if you want to criticize, be gentle at doing so. I'm doing something completely different here—so I'm just throwing this idea out there.
Think of this as a tester of sorts. I mean I adored Mirage in DOTM and felt he had been given little credit. I thank everyone who had read this till the end and hope that it was worth reading.
Please tell me what you think, so I'd know that I got something going on here. I promise the next chapter will be longer—so stick around and see what's gonna happen next.
Much love,
Nicole J. Coltan.