Author's NB: While essentially G1, it will pull characters in together who never interacted in the cartoons. I tend to base my fanfictions in the G1 Cartoon/Comics [80s/IDW/MTMTE] type thing than say that abortion of a movie verse, Animated, Prime, RiD 2015 et al.
Likewise, I like to take liberties with individual character timelines, so you'll see Rodimus & Optimus, Ironhide and Springer, post a [1986] movie plot. For all intents and purposes, the movie events did happen, just in a different year than stated in that movie. How they came to all be alive at this point? Who the hell knows? Magic? I like to leave somethings unsaid and you can insert your own opinion. I may possibly throw some one, two sentence mention somewhere.
However, this is very AU in the human sense, the geo-political make up of this world is not what we have now, not what is seen in any other comic form. It'll be self-explanatory as the story waddles along. I'll give full credit [and plugs!] it when I reach it, but I have taken inspiration from other fiction.
Speaking of humans, I hate "Mary-Sues", and I don't like overly OC centric stuff, so while there are certainly human OCs, they exist as plot devices and narrative drivers as opposed to being any kind of protagonist. Where they appear to have a bit more attention, it is just my lazy way of inserting narrative about the overall political situation on earth. Also, regarding Daniel Witwicky, I've altered his birth year to coincide with my altered timelines.
I haven't written in years, mostly cos of computer changes, Word updates, flash-drives in storage units, and my inherent laziness. I'm jumping back in cos I feel like I'm being dumbed down by the stupid people I constantly have to deal with in life. Hehe.
Usual disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, any of the trademarked Transformer characters, I make no profit from this, this is written for my enjoyment and literary improvement *coughcoughdyslexiccoughcough*, as well as for whoever cares to read them.
Not suitable for children under 16, but this is the internet, so I know no one cares. Violence, profanity, sexual references.
oooOOooo
One
It was a dreary place, unsettlingly quiet with the perhaps overly clichéd creepiness of the stench of death… or was that just cheap flowers rotting on infrequently tended graves.
To his shame, at least mentioned inwardly, he hadn't been here since they'd been laid into the cold earth to slowly rot away in expensive boxes. Strangely, he never felt that the funeral was the worst day of his life. That had been when his mother had died.
Spike was at home, taking a break after a rather busy run of diplomatic missions and explicitly boring meetings. Travelling around the universe with giant alien metal people could get quite exhausting! He loved it though. As a kid, his view of the future was simple, maybe even bleak by some standards. He didn't apply himself at school, always acting up, whether that was due to his inability to understand the finer points of English or the harder points of math, he really only went to eat his lunch. His mother had walked out when he was just a toddler, for years he was under the impression she'd died – turned out she'd just taken off with another partner. A woman named Sally. 1970s America, Protestant, white, Sparkplug felt it less embarrassing to tell his kid and anyone who asked, she was dead.
From there young Spike accepted his comfortably poor upbringing, his working-class father, and his lack of academic prowess meant an equally bland life lay ahead. In the years to come, he'd reflex with a good manner of amazement, and was indescribably grateful that these strange cybernetic creatures would see fit to include him in their lives. To call him friend. That friendship, rightly or wrongly, put Spike on the fast track to fame, fortune and service of Earth.
It earnt him a fair number of enemies as one would logically conclude. Mostly Decepticon at first, but over time anti-robot groups started gaining traction, usually after some of the higher causality events. There were the politicians and "experts", both snobby in class and authority. Who was this mutt of a man to represent Earth? Uneducated, poor, no family of note. Sure, Carly brought with her a rather decent standard of smarts, looks and pedigree, but she avoided the spot light, wanting to raise her son without too much public scrutiny.
Maybe the lesbian mother would have won him some brownie points if he'd ever been able to find her.
He was apparently supposed to be alone. Relaxing. Maybe working on one of his models. Perhaps digging up his sorry garden, filled with soggy potatoes and brown lettuces. Instead, he ended up kicking off his shoes grabbing a glass of milk, which he took one sip from, slumped into his favourite and sparsely used arm chair, and drifted off to sleep.
To her credit, the assassin wasn't cruel. He never heard her enter. Never heard her stand in front of him. She walked with a soft and morbidly graceful step. Raised the silenced gun and fired three times. One between the eyes, which of course was fatal, and two more into the heart for good measure.
Her shots were precise, perfect. Megatron had choose her well.
The woman seemed to have hesitated after the kill, she hadn't left immediately. She'd laid a coaster over the glass of milk. It'd been the middle of summer, the evening had been hot, humid. Was strange to think about it, some perfect little killer more worried about a glass of milk going rank than the fact she was leaving a body to rot, to bloat. Of course, she was well aware he'd be discovered soon.
She would have noticed the family photos, maybe something had stirred in that dead conscience that drove her to want to protect family from discovering him. She covered his face with a tea-towel. These small gestures took time, both in thought and in practice.
That's what killed his mother.
The murderess had no intention of targeting anyone else, as she left via the back door she found herself face to face with the blond, whom, of course, had no chance. As frighteningly effective as she was with a gun, she was even more so with blades. Carly dropped her groceries and before she could even lift her hands in any form of offense, or defence, the woman had slit her throat. The action was swift, clean and on target.
Carly dropped to the ground without ceremony, and the woman hastened her exit.
She'd had no desire to kill the ambassador's wife, she sure as hell didn't want to take out any kids. Gone as quickly and as quietly as she'd come.
The neighbour had seen Carly pull up in the drive, and then headed over to hand her a key to the house. The woman was going away for the weekend and Carly had been happy to offer her services as a cat feeder and plant waterer. The woman never saw the killer leave, but obviously discovered Carly. Thankfully a retired nurse, found a faint pulse, applied pressure and managed to one handed use her seriously out-dated cell phone to call for help.
The genius died a few days later in hospital, she was able to type a description, and then when it became clear to the investigators whom the assassin was, she was able to point to the photo.
The woman wasn't exactly a face in the crowd.
Despite assistance from the Autobot medics, Carly didn't win the fight.
She was buried with her husband, just a week after the invasion.
Carly's parents had retired to England, and that's where Daniel ended up, despite his loud protests. He was somewhere between child and man, a 14-year-old who was only just trying to find the way to combine a normal human life with one that involved the Autobots and their various antics.
He'd had numerous, oftentimes very dangerous adventures with them, and didn't want to lose that. It came with the territory. Friendship with these entities was never going to be safe. In the end Optimus recognised the harm they'd unintentionally brought into this family's life. Sparkplug had been killed by Ravage years before, there'd been multiple and oftentimes serious injuries, both physical and emotional, and now this young chap was an orphan because… No one was sure why Megatron had only now decided to target so brutally the Ambassador. There was certainly nothing new in his conduct that would directly affect the 'cons. Unless this was just Megatron fulfilling long made promises of revenge? But why now? Too many questions and not enough answers.
Initially it wasn't so bad, there were a few Autobots stationed in England, nowhere near where his grandparents lived, but they weren't Autobots he'd ever met, and that didn't change. Technology obviously gave him considerable opportunities for communication. Over the years, as was to be expected, teenage behaviour drove him more to a circle of human friends, his occasions with the Autobots recounted far too many times to now keep any interest. For all intents and purposes, by the time he reached University, he was just a normal guy who'd just shrug when people, upon hearing his unusual surname, asked if he was related to the murdered Ambassador and his wife.
So here he was now, standing over the graves of his parents. They were scruffy, moss covered plots. He wondered how long it took for Autobots to stop visiting. Perhaps odd looks from other visitors unsettled them, perhaps feelings of guilt compelled to much shame to want to step foot here, maybe they just didn't care? They'd had millions of years to get used to the feelings that came with death of loved ones, perhaps it was simply a case of "meh, same slag, different cycle".
In any case, Daniel lowered himself so as he knelt on the soggy earth, he started pulling up the weeds, brushing aside stray bits of paper, a random plastic flower, it's pedals faded and teared. He sat back on his feet and gave an audible sigh.
"Hi mum, hey dad. Sorry I haven't visited".
He felt a bit odd speaking to them. He'd never had an awful lot of contact with religious concepts, didn't believe in ghosts or any after-life consciousness. Seeing no one was within ear shot, he shrugged and decided to just go with it.
"So, I've been really busy. Mum, your dad died a few months back, but I guess you know that. Your mum is kinda nuts now. Your sister got her into some cushy rest home. I got a job. It's not what I wanted, and it's not in a great place, but it'll do for now. I drove past the house. It's pretty shabby looking now. The big front window box has been boarded over, and several of the upstairs windows are broken. I guess the collapse hit the owners hard. I did hear Mrs. Tanning broke her hip and ended up in hospital. She couldn't afford treatment, so she got euth'd. Arcee told me, it was about a year after you left, I'm not sure, it came up in the last conversation I had with her. Her house, wow, looks like a crack den now. The whole street is bad. Several are burnt out, including the Dennleys. Sad, huh? I dunno what happened to them, though."
He rubbed the back of his head, he'd certainly inherited his father's overly shaggy locks. He needed a cut, but money was tight, styled cuts were a luxury, most just got it all off. And where he was going to be working, he'd probably be the best groomed there. It was well past his shoulders, greasy, probably a little too much dandruff. Despite feeling terribly awkward over the whole thing, talking to a stone in a field of stones and bones, something else, something tiny, something felt right.
Didn't stop him letting rip with another sigh, though.
"Anyho, about the Autobots. I haven't had much to do with them, since, well, you know... I talked with Arcee for probably only a year after I moved, but life just got in the way, I guess. I know about them as much as any other schmuck knows, just what's on TV. I think Prime gave a speech to the UN, and the EDC has increased its range in the solar system with Autobot assistance. Dad, your replacement is a stuffy old white guy, Chechyan, I saw Rodimus roll his optics as he stood in the background of him giving some speech. Heh".
Daniel chuckled a little longer at the thought. An optic-roll from a Transformer was incredibly hard to catch by humans, without irises or pupils there was nothing to follow. Of course, if you knew what you were looking for, you'd catch that tiny pin prick of light, in the centre, and a little brighter than the rest of the optic. Spike had taught that him that. A lot of time around the Twins, was his response to his son's enthusiasm at learning something new about their metallic friends.
"I got a place easy enough, it's a bit of a dingy neighbourhood, but I guess that's to be expected. It's not a rich school, guys".
He looked down at his hands, covered in bits of moss and dirt, a soft wave of depression crept across him. It'd been something he'd battled with for years. As obvious as it was a concept to him, he actively hid it and generally people thought he was fine. His grandparents were kind people, if not a little neurotic. He felt like a burden to them, of course. Here they were, entering what should have been the most comfortable years of their lives, their daughters now adults, successful women. His aunt was a bit nutty though. Highly intelligent, likely Asperger's of some description, he'd overheard his mother saying once. Never had a partner, no children, unless you counted eight cats. Of course, the several PhDs in molecular biology, chemistry and advanced physics offset any claims she was stupid. They'd sold up their house in America and were heading to England, his grandfather's ancestral home. It was a nice little place they settled into. His nan wanted to write, and the often-stormy beach front and neighbouring forest surrounding idyllic pastures offered ample inspiration. Now their youngest daughter was dead, her husband as well, and their wayward grandson, their only grandchild, was on their door step. Well, it hadn't been that swift or unannounced. A lot of conversations, a lot of paper trails and social workers and lawyers and everyone seemed to have an opinion. No one inquired what Daniel thought as he tried to accept the fact his parents were dead. His mother's last days were not pleasant, her body failing fast, starting to rot, was not an appropriate sight for a young teen.
Eventually decisions were made, his things were packed, goodbyes were said with a half-hearted shrug from the human, and he was on the plane between his two grieving elders to go to start a new life in a country he'd only ever heard about from his mother's two visits.
"I don't think I'm going to seek out the 'bots. If they contact me, I'll be polite, but they've just not a part of my life anymore. I hope that doesn't disappoint you, but I'm enjoying my life now, sure, it's boring, no giant battles, no shuttle flights across the galaxy, no nefarious alien plots to wipe us out. I like that I can just be a normal guy. I'm not scared anymore. I don't have nightmares any… well, occasionally, but that's because I've been watching too many zombie shows. Hehe. Mum, dad, I'm living with a peace that I didn't think I even needed".
The wind was starting to pick up now, a cluster of leaves was brushed over his lap without response from him.
"They never got that bitch, though".
A hoarse whisper, the anger in his core slipping out through it. Heavily punctuated. He cursed her.
He stood up slowly and regarded the grave stone for a moment.
"Well, I guess I better get going. I'll be able to come see you more often now. I'll bring some better cleaner next time, maybe some flowers or something. I dunno".
