Disclaimer: Wide Spread Panic doesn't own the Transformers… are we all agreed? Good.
Summary: The Autobot forces are trying to determine whether the human race are worth saving or not, but unfortunately they don't choose the best candidate to monitor the humans.
Author's note: Yeah, I know. Another TF fanfic? Don't worry, I promise to keep updating The Deadliest Foe and How Far We've Come on time. This is just an idea that occurred to me some time back that I never posted. After all, I've only just started posting. ;) It's very different from the other stories and doesn't take place in the same reality, though it too is AU and heavily G1/ IDW-verse inspired.
Ch.1: Humanity Blues
It was almost a madness now, the fury that drives him. He can feel it; he can taste it, so sharp and bittersweet in the air around his holoform. Stronger than anything, it's the need for revenge. He can never be free of it so long as he walks this world, because it is everywhere. These Pit-spawned organics and their infernal world! The enemy is everywhere! In this crowd it tries to drag him under as he listens to the mummer of their voices and tries not to fall into a lull. The holoform grins to itself. The people jostle and move like startlingly brilliant meteors along their trajectories all around him. They pay him no mind, for he is but one more stranger in a sea of unknown and unremarkable faces. A curious passerby caught his eye and hurriedly looked away, his nerves shaken. His eyes are too intense; people can't stand for him to look at him with his unnaturally blue eyes, and he personally can't stand to look at them.
He could be anyone in his white, button-up shirt and charcoal gray slacks. He wears a long black coat that reaches nearly to his ankles and his wildly unkempt black hair hangs in straggly curls in his face. His wildly electric blue eyes stare out from under his drawn brows.
He slipped from the crowd, from temptation reluctantly and back into the shadows. Every night was different, they all taste different. Smells reach him: the acrid smell of the pollution spouted by the vehicles, the scent of the perfume and cologne, of fried food vendors, cigarette smoke, and sweat. He hates the city. He hates the organics.
It was their fault, after all. The vicious little insects had beset him; HIM of all mechs. They had come in their ragged coverings and attacked him in his recharge, stripping wires, stealing. They had stolen his tires for Primus' sake! He had come to the little mud-ball of a planet to learn from them and to decide whether the organics, the humans, were sentient or primitives. To decide whether the human race deserved to be protected and defended.
Frag that, he thought disgustedly as he wandered around. One of the little monsters had stolen his transformation cog, leaving him trapped in alt mode, surrounded by savages. Not only that, they had stolen several other parts necessary for him to be able to even move in alt mode. He'd been forced to waste energy using his holoform to try and track down the little slaggers that had stolen parts off of him, but so far he hadn't seen a sign of the ones responsible. Truth be told, he was halfway ready to let the Decepticons have the fraggin' humans. Pit, he'd happily give them directions to their miserable world!
He reached up to shove his fingers backwards through his hair. Yet another human bumped into him and he whirled on them with a snarl that sent them stumbling with a shocked expression on their greasy little face. He shuddered with revulsion. Humans! Everywhere humans!
He paused and glanced around, before slipping into an alley. He stalked over to a miserable-looking car and the holoform disappeared. He rebooted his processor and accessed his messaging system. He was expected to report in a timely manner every cycle, or the higher-ups would send someone to haul his aft back to Cybertron like a sparkling. Though he desperately needed help, he absolutely refused to ask. He could fix the mess on his own. He didn't need anyone. He never had. He never would. Sideswipe was the one who always needed saving. He felt a pang in his spark as he thought about his twin. He wondered how Sideswipe was doing without him to look after his glitched aft. He grumbled and prepared to transmit.
+This is Sunstreaker. Mission is going according to plan. No complications+
Dear, Primus. I hate this germ-infested, miserable, glitched-up mud ball of a world. I hate, hate, hate it!
"Cassey?"
The young woman opened one gray eye and stared muzzily through the screen of her brown hair at her much younger brother, who was turned around in the front passenger seat to stare at her. "Uh-huh?" She mumbled and brushed her bangs back and tucked them behind one ear.
The boy glanced over at their mother, who had insisted on driving her daughter to the airport, and then back at her. "You know, you could stay awake. You're going to be gone for a month, won't you miss us?" He scowled at her.
"Leave her alone, it's a long flight. Let her sleep," the mom said her attention on the road.
Cassey rubbed my eyes. "I'll call you, Howie. Everyday," she promised. Cassey was nearly twenty-one and Howie was only eleven and his wide blue eyes pouted at his sister. She had shoulder-length brown hair and gray eyes, while Howie was blonde-headed like their mom. He frowned at his sister and blew his breath out loudly, but turned back to his gaming system.
Leaning her head against the cold window, Cassey stared at the blue sky and the thin, wispy clouds. This was her first trip so far from home and her first time in a big city. Her cousins, Valerie and Sophie, had been begging her to come and spend fall break with them for nearly two years, and she had finally given in to their wheedling and promises of fun. New York City. The woman bit her bottom lip.
Author's note: What do you guys think so far? Please, Review!