A/N: So, this is chapter 2 of the Tomorrow Is Forever Coming saga: I'm sorry to say this fic doesn't involve any bot on con fighting action :( it's really more a soap drama, & to be honest I might have been getting a little ahead of myself in some places on this one, but there's a lot of issues a lot of the characters have that need to be got out in the open, not least Magestrix (I think I might have given her too many issues to deal with _ , but I'll let be the judge of that); so be prepared, there's quite a bit of drama, stupid over-reactions, bitchiness, being a complete douche, tenseness & a bit of family mushiness in this fic.
The basis for this story came when I bought my poppy last year (the British Legion's poppy appeal) & I got curious & did a little googling on life for soldiers who're returning from combat & trying to readjust to civilian/domestic life. It's not easy, and unfortunately its a subject most take for granted :( in the case of the Autobots, (namely the 9, my OC's) its a very complicated thing, it's not so much the trauma (which probably will come to light in later stories) but getting used to post-war life in general. After all, when your whole life is dedicated to war, what do you do when that war has come to an end? I figured different Autobots would handle it in different ways, some better than others, & some...well? why don't you read on & find out? ;)
Note: This prologue is an important part of the story, (remember that warning on cryptic parts I mentioned on my profile page? this is one of them) it ties into the saga as a whole, so it's not reverent to this particular fic; but it will have reliance in a later story. Curious?, stick around read on ;) I hope you enjoy!
Rating: No blood & gore or le sexy time (human or otherwise ¬_¬); but there's gonna be quite a lot of profanity & (probably) some naught themes here & there. So it's a T just to be on the safe side ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers: just my OC's & the plot.
AFTER THE STORM
PROLOGUE
The late summer was always a rich time for nature.
That's one of the things she liked about this place.
Walking along the overgrown path, she glanced at the forest life all around her as she went on her way. The rich ripe blackberries and the thick swollen sloe berries were abundant this year; so rich and full in their juices they were fit to burst in a thick gooey mess if they were not picked with care. Amid the branches and thick undergrowth the blackbird, mistle thrush and song thrush tossed the leaf-litter about in their search for tender grubs and insects, the Green finch, Bull finch and Chaff finch picked and pecked at the fluffy thistle seeds in a frantic haste, and the robin had begun singing his winter melody, and following her as she walked by.
The robins knew humans were no threat here; they were safe amid their strange stone structures, and well provided for in the worst of the winter.
After climbing over the stile that was set in the broad Cornish hedge, she stopped a moment, reached into the pocket of her tweed coat, and produced a handful of breadcrumbs she had stashed away. She laid the crumbs on one of the large protruding serpentine steps, and it wasn't long before the robin flew down from his perch in the Blackthorn and began pecking away at the generous offering; though she stood not more than a meter away, the tiny bird was completely unfazed by her presence, as if she wasn't there at all, he knew she wouldn't hurt him.
All the song birds knew they had no reason to fear man. Some were just more used to him and his kin than others.
She left the robin to his meal, and continued along the path into an open field that had not been cut or grazed in a long time; out here, the sounds of the forest echoed far out and all around as the wind had dropped completely; being this close to the sea, it wasn't often the wind was still like this...
That could be a problem, because anyone could hear her...
Looking around, she soon spotted the reason she had come here; at the end of the field, parked next to the old rusted wrought-iron gate was a dark blue 1958 Morgan 4/4 series 2: beautifully polished and in very good condition. Leaning on the front of the grill was a gentleman of distinct appearance, dressed in smart tweed trousers, a white shirt with a dapper paisley waistcoat (complete with a neatly folded handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket), and a smart blue and yellow stripped blazer slung over the driver's seat; he looked like he'd just come fresh from the Boat Race, or some other well-to-do event that carried a strict dress code. He looked to be in his late fifties with hazel-green eyes and thick wavy greyish silver hair that was combed back into a sleek smart style, he also sported a well-trimmed handlebar mustache, and a gold tooth set in his charming smile. As she approached him, he stood up and walked towards her, she loosened the silk scarf around her neck and removed the sunglasses from her eyes, revealing a pair of sharp wolf-like dark brown eyes that looked him up and down, studying him with particular criticism. She stopped a moment as if to maintain a cautious distance, and stood up straight with an air of stringent discipline about her, making it clear she was the one in charge here: he obliged and submissively stopped some several feet from her; he knew the reason for her caution, and it would be improper of him to be blase about it.
"You still wear that ghastly waistcoat?" she asked in a scrupulous tone; not pleased, but not disappointed either.
"Some things never go out of fashion" he grinned, unconcerned about her stringent manner
She paused a moment, reading the subtlety of his body language for any sign of dishonesty,
"So it would seem..." she said offhand, "You're looking well; retirement suits you"
"Retired? Me? Where did the devil did you get that notion?" he joked,
She smiled before turning serious again: "...You weren't followed?"
His smile dropped, and met her daunting gaze with an honest look: "Of course not; the boys at Whitehall went to a lot of trouble to find you, we wouldn't have gone to all the trouble if we didn't think this was absolutely necessary" he said seriously, the charm gone from his tone. She studied him a moment longer, before gesturing for him to follow her, and together they slowly walked side by side along the path that went around the edge of the field.
"I received Whitby's email last night, code: Redwing. How bad is it?" she asked, her tone unwavering.
"Very bad: It seems our 'old friend's' original statement about Prometheus was right on the mark" he replied
"They're on the move?"
"Yes, but only because they discovered we'd infiltrated them..."
She stopped, frowning sharply in stern solicitousness: "...What happened?"
He hesitated a brief second, before explaining: "Six months ago our American partners and some of our lads went deep undercover into Project Broadsword; it was meant to be a probing mission, to find out exactly how far they'd been kept 'above classified'. The mission went to plan, until-...we discovered the real reason they were formed in the first place"
"And?" she pressed him
"...NEST has been compromised" he replied in a grave tone, "Prometheus's mole is already in, and he's making himself right at home with them"
"Why hasn't Galloway been informed? Of the people you come to me instead of him?" she snapped
"It's not that simple Moirai..." he replied, "We know who the mole is. It's Silas"
At the mention of the name she stopped and stared at him in astonishment; dazed at first, her stern assertive presence turned into a hesitant look of worry; "...Where the bloody hell has that bastard been hiding all this time?!" she cursed
"We don't know, but Prometheus must have been really rattled to take such a drastic measure and have one of their top dogs become directly involved. We can only assume their preparing to make their final move on the Autobots"
"And the Decepticons?"
"All but one of the seven scouting party that we tracked across North America and Canada have been captured by Project Broadsword: our other agents out in the field reported the one near Berlin was apprehended three days ago, the one's in France, Russia, India, Australia and New Zealand four days before that, and the others in Italy, Egypt, Greece, Palestine and Thailand were caught in the last forty eight hours. The ones in China, Japan, Hawaii, Fiji and Borneo are still unaccounted for, but we don't think it'll be long before their caught too"
"The Autobots will become suspicious" she frowned, "They've been fighting and hunting those monsters far longer than we have; it'll only be a matter of time before they discover they were out there in the world: they'll smell a rat"
"And when they do they're going to want to find answers; which is why we're stepping up our plans too. The probing mission may have ended in failure but it wasn't for nothing; we got the data we needed, and now all we need is come up with our own plan of action. Starting with you"
"Pardon?"
"Whitehall wants you back; and they want you to head up our unit"
She stared at him nonplussed
"Finley you know why I can't go back, I promised-"
"-You promised Karlovski you would keep his secret," he interrupted, "And you will, I never told Whitby about that meeting in Bideford. As far as he knows, all that happened was one of our American constituents was passing along some intel for confirmation, and that's all..."
"...You-, never told him?"
"Why are you so surprised? I was there too remember? I heard everything he said; do you seriously think Whitby would've taken Karlovski at his word if he knew what he knew?"
She regarded him with an exasperated look
"It was a pretty outrageous story" she smiled
"But one that proved to be right on the mark" he nodded, "You were the only one he trusted with-, 'those secrets', only you know what to expect from Silas and his colleges. And if Prometheus really is on the move we've only got so much time before the window of opportunity closes, after that, trying to gain any form of tactical advantage over them will be impossible"
She let her gaze drop as she contemplated his words
"...I know, when you left you didn't have many reserves about how Whitby would handle things in your stead"
"He's a capable man, a little uptight but nobody's perfect; I wouldn't have asked him if I didn't think he could handle it" she replied confidently
"And he's done a splendid job: but he's not you, he's not been involved on such a deep level, and despite his tactical experience I don't think he'll be willing to go to the same lengths as you to make sure the job's done right. There's not that many men in our profession that can measure up to your standard and still have the balls to stand up to those pencil pushers in the JIC"
"Oh Please" she scowled "Those spineless little sycophants? I'd eat them alive, and they bloody well know it" she growled in a sly tone
"And that's why they never said MI6 was no place for a woman" he chuckled
"Not to my face at least..." she added in a lighter tone, before getting back to the subject at hand; "But I'm not the only one who's involved on such a deep level"
He paused; studying the look of muted worry etched across her face, he realized who she was referring to: "You're worried about them"
From out of her pocket she produced her purse, and took out the small family photo within; four young faces, bright and happy together: she smiled nostalgically as she remembered them, "...I worry about them everyday" she mused aloud, this time in a softer, more anxious voice, ", and while I know their 'guardian' will look after them, he can only do so much"
"But they're not entirely defenseless" he pointed out
"Very true" she nodded, "They've always been able to handle themselves: their Brigg's, we've always been made of harder stuff, and always ready to do our duty..." she stuffed the photo back in her purse and met his gaze with her stern look again.
"If this goes to hell they'll be right in the middle of it"
"All the more reason we need you back; like you said, their made of harder stuff, and I don't think it'll be completely beyond them to step up to this. They and the others are in a vulnerable position, but their also in a unique one: the Waineright girls don't know about their Grandmother, no one at NEST knows about Silas, and Witwicky doesn't know the real truth about his great-great Grandfather. They may be within Prometheus's reach, but Prometheus is close to them too, maybe too close"
"You think they might be able to take advantage of them?" she frowned
"If their all as extraordinary as you say they are; I have no doubt they will discover truth, and will find a way to bring them down"
She contemplated his words for a moment, before stating confidently, "Alright", she turned to head back the way they'd came, "When do they want me back?"
"We've already taken care of the paper work; there's a flight to Heathrow leaving from Newquay tonight at seven"
"I'll be ready; what's the clearance?" she asked, at that he discreetly slipped her a business card and she placed it in her breast pocket.
"Thornton and Stanley will be there to meet you; but what will you tell the rest of your family?"
"Horatio will improvise; he always does. He knows when duty calls ones personal feelings cannot be a priority" she stated in an unreadable tone
"And what about your personal feelings?" he asked cautiously
She didn't reply, and glanced at him with a sharp knowing look. "Right, I forgot" he smiled: "Just get me to London and bring me up to speed" she replied
"Yes ma'am" he smiled, she stopped and regarded him with a strange look.
"What? Did you think I was going to call you sir?" he grinned
"You haven't changed a bit..." she smiled with a sly look in her eye
"You haven't either"
"Just be ready for takeoff" she turned to head back to the stile
"And what about John?" he asked
"...What about him?"
"You're not worried about him too?"
"After what he survived in Iraq, please: it's my Grandchildren I'm concerned about" she said, and headed off back the way she came.
In the forest and nearby hedgerows, the birds sang their evening chorus, and what was spoken here, was known only to them...
...And the old man, watching them from the shadows of the trees...
It should be noted: the robin in this prologue is a European/British robin, not an American one. The British robins are very bold little fellows, once they get used to you, they will happily take food from your palm; its magic! :3
Also, Cornish Hedges are only found in Cornwall, England. Unlike regular hedgerows, they consist of 2 stone walls (serpentine, slate, granite or whatever stone is at hand) spaced a half to a meter apart, filled in with dirt & earth and allowed to let blackthorn and other native plant life flourish. Some of them are huge, one of the biggest I've come across had a 8 meter blackthorn growing out from the top! & their very hard to destroy, that's why traffic accidents in Cornwall that result in people crashing into Cornish hedges often have the worst injuries (if not the most whip-lash)
Oh, 1 other thing: the guy Finley; I got the basic idea for after seeing Finn McMissile from Cars 2 XD. I when I first thought of him, I just knew I wanted him to be a proper English Gentlemen rather than some guy; well dressed and well mannered, he's got a part to play much later on in the saga so he won't be reappearing for quite a few stories. As for the mystery lady? She'll be reappearing much later on too, but her identity will be kept secret so no spoilers on her I'm afraid...But the old man? I've been working on him for long time XD, he's gonna be cropping up very briefly here & there in each story, but when you find out who is really is, well? I'm not usually one for blowing my own trumpet; but I promise, your mind will be blown! Nuff said.
Anyway, please let me know what you think, & stay tuned for the next installment, the main story will kick off then! ;)