This is an experimental take on a Human-turned-Transformer story. It WILL NOT be a romance and it contains little comedy. It will be a psychological twist and will be under the catagory of Horror/Adventure rated M+. Lemme know what you think. It won't be anything like where a Human woman is turned she is perfectly unscatched by this revelation and suddenly falling head over heels. If this story did contain romance, it would NOT be consenual. I will update Life on the Nickel as soon as a I can. It's almost done. Till then, enjoy. The plot is already laid, I just need to go about carefully with the execution.
~ Fruity Sangheili
Little to None (Preview Chapter) - Hallelujah
"Arab sheiks on the burning sand,
Come into their Harems and clap their hands,
Said "Come on, girls, are you ready to play?
Lets have a little more of that swingin' today."
Now, in the land of Fu Manchu,
The girls all now do the Suzie-Q,
Clap their hands in the center of the floor,
Saying "Ching, Ching, Chop-Suey swing some more!"
Genevieve Obvgini Andreas whistled along to the mix of dance tunes in her Audi's CD player. Her rear wiggled in the seat as she bobbed up and down to Parov Stelar's Booty Swing. A song that wasn't a favorite among her family for the racial lyrics, though they continued to avoid the truth that the song was a remix with one from the days of old. If anything, Genevieve found racism to be at an all time high in this era than back then, she was particular sufferer of it for her family's Asian and Swedish heritage. Her mother, Yomiri Isazu Nidaka was Asian, having originated from Hokkaido, Japan in the city of Hakodate from the borders of Hachiman-zaka. While her father, Birger Anton Andreas, was born in Gothenburg city in Sweden. Inherently, she had her father's rich and heart-warming accent, but her mother's thick black hair coated her head down to the middle of her back. Although it retained the fine, stocky-straight consistency of her father's hair. Her eyes were the same strong almond shape as her father's, their color, liquid mercury that belonged to neither of her fore founders.
Her face was heavily dotted with freckles, giving it an almost dirty appearance, her sternly arched brows making it appear darker. She wouldn't call herself a diva, not with her weight, no. She called it her 'winter fat', yet she'd been carrying it all year round for seven years.
From anybody's spite-less perspective, Genevieve had a comfortable lifestyle. It wasn't wealthy, she was a commoner like most. Although admittedly there were things her family could afford to splurge on from time to time that would leave most enviable, such as the car she drove, despite it being used. She thanked it all to the hard work her father had slaved half his health away on. A comfy country-style home awaited her, and a pair of Goldfish. Slip and Wing-Ding. And her Dog, Macaroon.
The twenty-two year old woman preferred not to make enemies, but she wasn't afraid to go down swinging, especially if the subject contained her few friends she earned in her birthplace of Maine, New England.
As of now, she was on her way home. She waited till she was on a straight away on the icy and unpopulated country road before glancing down to adjust the temperature gauge. She savored the smell of her vehicle, the feel of the vinyl steering wheel beneath her fingers, and the quiet purr of the pure engine. She smiled sweetly at the next song that came on, a favorite shared between her and her mother.
Brandi Carlile's cover of Hallelujah. She parted her thick lips, and inhaled softly.
"I've heard there was a secret chord,
That David played, and it pleased the Lord,
But you don't really care for music, do you?"
A ringing entered her ears with the spike of her blood pressure when she saw the black object roll around the covered the mountainside provided. Her head felt light, and her mouth suddenly felt drier than ever, her lips sticky. Snow flung like a blizzard around the object as it tumbled. Genevieve's foot couldn't find the break, it only patted the carpeted floor like a bullied blind child searching for her cane. Her head felt light, skin growing hot while her mind unrolled a sheet of childhood before her.
"It goes like this,
The Fourth, the Fifth,
The minor fall, the major lift!
The baffled King composing Hallelujah…"
Her body was drained of energy, and the will to fight as she released the wheel and prayed to the God she'd always denied. The weight in the vehicle shifted as her booted foot began to cut the car's inertia, and her eyes grew hot. A rumbled crawled to her ears, cutting away the thundering heartbeat in her chest and the soothing song that granted her warm memories during such chilly weather. Soundless, destitute, she watched as twin red beams stole away the last of her foggy sunlight from her eyes.
The impact was swift….
She heard nothing. Felt nothing.
"Hallelujah, Hallelujah…
Hallelujah, Hallelujah…."
…
Tracker grunted as something rammed into his head. The impact rattled his cranium, and he flinched as glass shards plinked off his visor, traveling across his faceplate with a faint tickle to plunk into the muddy white blanket he shredded. He'd slipped during his play in the snow, but the Decepticon hadn't expected to hit anything on his goof-off fall. The smell of burning steel and oil churned his boiling track with newfound hunger. The massive Cybertronian rolled onto his belly with his elbows braced on the ground.
He blinked at the caved in front end from the Human transportation vehicular object. He slurred a Cybertronian curse when his optics spotted a familiar dark red liquid seeping munificently from a gash in the warped driver side door. Using his talon to gingerly pluck the door from it's hinges, he raised a brow plate beneath his dark visor when the Human's lifeless body slumped side ways with the break away of the door, hanging suspended a few feet off the snowy ground from it's safety belt. He held no emotion, no pity, for the life he'd just taken despite the saddening sight he beheld.
That wasn't what Decepticons did, it wasn't why he joined the side of darkness. Gurgling in the back of his throat, he inspected the unfortunate organic creature who's life he'd ended in his playtime. It was easy to pry the corpse from the vehicle's weak thread straps, and he held it in his palm like a curious Sparkling. Observing it as if he was holding the All Spark itself, he discovered it was female, a rather… Well-fed, one at that.
"Poor little thing…" He mumbled flatly in his native tongue, his finger tip parting the strands of ink black hair from the forehead of the Fleshling. Blood trickled from a wide gash on her brow line. The expression she held was peaceful albeit the traumatic end she suffered, eyes closed and mouth still.
Tracker glanced about wearing a clueless expression, unsure of where to dispose the corpse and the vehicle she was once driving. Then again, the car he could make use of, the Human… He wasn't so sure.
Sitting in the snow, he muddled over possibilities. It wasn't often he gained a new toy to experiment with, this was a rare and seemingly effortless conclusion to his day.
Thinking the better of just discarding the heap of meat and bone to the starving wildlife, he stood with a sneering grin etched into his beaked face, the antennae alongside his head humming as he initiated his COMM-link system.
"Sabbath?" He inquired casually with his Finnish accent.
"Tracker? Out and about again are we? Savage has been looking all over this mud-ball for you." His brother addressed him calmly, as usual.
"Ohh… I'm sure. Listen, be a good younger brother and warm the machinery in my work space." He stood as he heard his brother groan softly through the static.
"You said no more dead Earth animals, Tracker," He said in disgust. "You remember the Dog?" He shuddered over the COMM. "Hu-u-u-uvh-ugh…. I remember the Dog."
"I find it highly amusing that a Decepticon would be so squeamish of gore, as we are instruments of war." Tracker chuckled, loping back along the muddy trail he'd carved into the icy ground.
"That rhymed you know." His younger brother said.
"And yet, here I am with no audience to applaud me." The eldest of the three brothers sniggered, shrugging exaggerative-ly to nobody in particular, a playful kick of his finely booted foot sent the icy white powder tumbled into the valley below on the roadside.
"I would, brother, I would, but Sunspot is in recharge." His brother chuckled quietly. "Just get back before Savage returns. The moron's gone on a rampage in the forest on yonder from the base I'm afraid."
"Well brother, he stands true to his name, if I must say." He agreed with the sway of his hip to music that remained unheard. He could hear his brother hum softly on the connection. "Enough dawdling… I'll be home soon, just do as I asked, brother."
"Very well. Make sure it doesn't run off half-dead this time."
"Hmhmhmm….~ You have my word."