Transformers AU
War is my bitter lover.
Warning: slash, language, major violence, gore, a bit of politics might be involved. T-eventual NC-17
Eventual Pairings: Jazz/Sam, and more pairings will be introduced as the story goes on. It depends if you like the pairings or ask for them (I will consider them), but I wont change Jazz/Sam pairing because there's practically none of 'em and I want to experiment this pairing with an O.C.C. Sam, I truly hope you don't mind)
Notes (or warnings):
-Sam will be O.C.C., though the Autobots and the main humans from the movie verse will not change much (except Mikeala because she won't be in the story-she just won't fit in this story. Sorry to those who likes her.).
-There will be only one main O.C. That I named Anthony Boise or Uncle Tony, who will be related to his sister Judy Witwicky nee Boise, and will play a major role as a stable parental figure in Sam's life. Other than that, there will be VERY FEW minor O.C.'s.
-Ron and Judy won't be mentioned much due to the fact they will be dead (Sorry!) unless Sam is having flashbacks or such about them.
Prologue (Sam's POV) Part 1
As a child, I always thought myself to be different from others. I mean, being a loser AND having the worse luck gotta put you in a different category from the other brats. Making friends was like trying to get a toaster to talk; so I grew a bit lonely and maybe a tad bitter. But my dad, Ron, was the closest to the definition of what a friend was, and he was the one that showed me my life, or what Mile would say, my obsession, for cars. He taught me the basics of mechanics and their major parts when I was seven or eight years old. I can't remember exactly when, but who cares?
Anyway, back to the point, my dad taught me for a few years on mom's car, until I could help him work on his classic Porsche, and that's saying something because my dad would barely ever let me near his "baby" without blowing a circuit.
… Heh, circuit. I must be obsessed.
Anyway, I guess I was finally qualified enough to work with him on his engine. I've always treasured those times with him for most of my early childhood.
As I got older, when I was about ten years old, my dad decided that I was finally ready to have my own junk car to work on. I got a very cheap, rusty 1998 Taurus that didn't run but had rust-free engines. Since I got my car, I would work on it on all my free time (which I had lot of) while Miles, my only friend who was actually considered human and was the same age as me, would help, though he was more annoying than help. He got too easily distracted, but he was a fun person to talk to, especially when we always tested out ideas on each other with pointless banters. Those were the good times, but of course we can't forget that famous yet horrible bad luck streak I seem to have. The day after St. Patrick Day, at 8:37 a.m. there was a knock. And my life just went to the dump at age 11, along with my mom's life.
The police explained it all to us; on his way home from work at the car dealership, dad was hit by a truck that instantly killed him and damaged his classic far past repair. Though I'm grateful that my dad didn't die a painful death it still didn't stop the pain in my heart or my mom's... That day marked the start of my cursed life.
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Prologue – Part 2 (Sam's POV)
Dad's death changed me in many ways.
But not as much as my mom. She was even more of a wreck than I was. It was understandable, I mean the two were practically soul mates and I'm not using the term lightly (I'm not a sap!). They were one of a kind for each other. The two were unstoppable when together and the their odd quirks only made their relationship even more unique. It's what made them… well, them, for lack of better word.
But without dad, mom was unstable. We couldn't take care of each other, so of because of our grief we decided to go southeast to my grandma's place in Jacksonville, Florida. We left nearly everything in Tranquility, except taking Miles' number so that we could stay in touch.
I couldn't do anything to help my once strong willed mom, I was just a damn kid who had no freakin' clue on how to console someone, let alone myself. I may be sharp but I wasn't all that good at the "connecting with people;" I tend to come of as a jackass, or the guy with a mouth.
We moved to Florida within two months after dad's death and funeral. To say I was upset was an understatement.
Dear ol' Granny was a total control freak. She never approved of dad for some reason, and when I was born from their union she was even less pleased and didn't hesitate to let her ire be known.
Yet, it was her hate that made me feel stronger, a stronger will to live. I felt the need to prove the bitch that deserved to be alive. I sharpened my mind and tongue, which could explain my lack of friends. But who needs 'em anyway!
But really, I was being blunt and truthful, hardly cruel. Honest.
Even Miles knew that.
After a few days of staying at my lovely grandma's house, my Grandma (we will just start calling her Old Hag, instead) made it clear I wasn't wanted, so I barely got to eat or sleep, since I slept with mom but she cried a lot at night and she didn't move much from the bed.
The Old Hag took this as an advantage, and barely fed me, only when she deemed it necessary. After all she had to keep her act up as the nice-old-granny-that-would- never-kill-her-only-grandchild-by-starving-him-to-death.
Fucking bitch, right?
So anyway, I just minded my own business and decided to have adventures! (Do you read my sarcasm?)
That required me leaving the house.
A lot.
Which seem to please Old Hag. Like I said, a total wench.
So like any moody pre-teen, they go find the shady part of the towns in hope to fit in. But I wasn't stupid; I know what can go on in harsher parts of towns. So I had my handy paper knife. And no I didn't kill anyone, like I said I'm not that stupid.
Honest.
I learned many of the names of the districts and main streets of where gambling goes on and other places for easy money, but also noted the darker and seedier parts that I stayed well away from.
No one can't say I don't have any street smarts now!
After a while I started to get the hang of the card games and my Spanish. Those native Spanish speaking… such fun guys! And soon enough, I was earning easy cash for my own food and laundry.
It's been five months that I started living on the streets, when one lazy afternoon I was hanging out at Bobby's and helping him with the repair on brakes and other minor (and too easy) auto fixes that Bobby allowed me do for a few bucks.
Then suddenly my boring day just got better!
There were a series of 10 seconds cars (and is that a Supra Turbo?) pulling into Bobby's Auto shop. I was so fix on the beautiful cars that I barely realize I was walking towards them to get closer look.
It was the first time in all my hellish months that I actually felt alive.
I could feel the electrifying thrill run through me. My heart was pumping so fast that I really thought my heart would choose the car over my body.
I was just that excited. In fact, I was so excited my blood decided to go south as well.
God, I was such a horny kid then. And for a car too… Can anyone spell crazy?
My head was just filled with thoughts of the possible engines installed in those beauties (it made me a drooling mess at the thought of the straight-6 engines and the turbochargers), in fact I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn't notice the blond man who got out of the neon orange with blue designs Supra Turbo, looking at me.
When he grabbed my attention after a few waves in front of my face. I noticed how young looking he was and his beautiful gray-blue eyes that sparkled with full of life. So full of life compare to my own dull eyes.
At first I thought he was gonna say something arrogant or curse me, instead he just smiled and said "Like what ya see?" with a friendly teasing voice that reminded my of Miles.
After that, he introduced himself as Brian O'Connor and a few of his friends including the intimidating (not that I ever admit it out loud) man name Dom Toretto.
Geez, bald guys are scary. End of story.
… Apparently he's always has the intimidating face on, except most of the gang weren't afraid of him, even Brian who acted as if he was teddy bear and not a muscled giant that was about to kill someone with his pinky - and he wasn't even trying! How is that even fair?
Though as scary as Dom was, he did earn my respect, and it seem I earned a bit of his respect after I bedazzled my skills and knowledge for cars.
He was bedazzled, I tell you, of a thirteen year old. Honest.
Brian became a big brother of a sort. He taught me how to drive and skills to handle a 10 second cars and other speed cars. Dom was even willing to teach me some more about various speed cars' engines.
Suki became either the maternal or the sister figure for me, that is, depending on her moods. Suki taught me a few tricks on auto paint designing, which was actually kind of damn tricky.
About a week through their stay the gang decided to put on a few street race events with other nearby speed racers in Florida and South Carolina, and they allowed me to watch.
At the first Event, I was practically on high from my adrenaline.
I was so amazed and caught up with how the races were so intense.
It was that moment that I realized that I really wanted to race, just so I can feel that speed for myself.
After the first Event, I asked Brian to secretly teach me more on speed racing and to control a speed. Because, like I said, I wasn't foolish.
Those were the times I like to remember because I was allowed to be just me for once, and relax without worrying, without nightmares. I was just free - the top speed mixing with my bliss made me feel like I was flying in odd sort of way. Its hard to explain the experiences I have with the secret nightly driving lessons with Brian.
After a few weeks, Brian said I could race in the 3rd Event. Of course after Brian convinced Dom (which I still don't know how he does, though I did play with the theory them being lovers, and, will you get the damn idea!) and of course I had to show him I could drive. After a few "laps", Dom was impress, though I couldn't tell because his smile looked little too... shark for my taste. Brian said it meant Dom was very please, so I guess it meant I got to race. Of course there were a few protests from Suki and Roman.
Honestly, they're such mother hens.
Though they did eventually, albeit rather reluctantly, agreed to let me race in the 3rd Event.
And so I raced with my heart full of adrenaline and delight.
And I'm not gonna lie - I am awesome; I came in 2nd place for my first time. Pretty fucking awesome, that feeling of speed and win. I was truly happy. It was one of my favorite memories.
Ever since the third Event, I proved myself capable of driving and winning to the gang. I was allowed to race with either Brian's or Roman's speed car for they were the only ones I was comfortable with. As I continued to race with or sometimes for fun, against the gang, I became addicted to the thrill of it.
…Maybe a little too addicted.
I didn't care about the countless money I got winning, no, I raced because I starved for more of that taste of top speed and freedom.
Just like a druggie wanting, no, needing more shots, I needed more thrill of that top speed with the engines roaring in my ears like music, the intense movements of jerking the clutch to match my element as I turn on sharp corners, and the danger of being caught by pigs or the rivals catching up to my speed.
I just fucking love it. I could never get tired of it.
However, I knew in the back of my mind I was just distracting myself from reality, from my mom's suffering, simply from everything – I didn't want to face that, I wasn't ready. I was coward and I knew that.
After about three months, the gang decided to move up north for more racing. I thought I was going to be left behind when they leave.
Boy, was I wrong.
Brian asked if I wanted to come, stating I was welcome to. I actually thought about it as rationally as I could. If I go then I'm still a coward, avoiding reality and if I didn't then I wouldn't make it because I knew I wasn't ready to face my reality. I still needed time to heal myself, to ready myself for what I thought to be reality.
So I decided to go.
But, I swore to myself that I would come back and face my problems.
But for now, I just wanted the freedom for a bit longer.
I didn't realize I would be coming back to Jacksonville, Florida in two and a half years...
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Prologue - Part 3 (Sam's POV)
The gang and I travel up to North Carolina to a minor street race, but got bored quickly after winning the races too easily. Suki was able to find a bigger and juicier event in Virginia. There, we were able to find more satisfying speed rivals. I even found some peers my age to race against. Of course I still won. Heh.
Brian and Dom decided to settle and relax in Virginia for a few months. Suki was able to get me into a nearby middle school without any trouble (after many blackmails on me and the principle and the too many fake crocodile tears).
We continued to race and win big bucks to improve our cars. That is… until winter came.
Along with it came the damn freakin' blizzards (it was my first time seeing snow and I was quite giddy but all the excitement went away the second I felt the damn freezing temperature. So I'm still quite bitter about it).
Since we were basically snowed in and couldn't drive without ruining the cars we stayed another few months. But the damn schools weren't canceled, which should be illegal. I mean, c'mon someone could die walking in that mini Antarctic! Apparently the people are use to it.
Lucky bastards.
After the snow FINALLY melted enough for us to drive we got the hell out there, afraid we might get snowed in. Again.
There weren't many major races due to the fact it was fucking winter still (I reallyhate the season!) and had to wait at least another month or so.
So we decided to head west a bit. We ended up staying in West Virginia and we were lucky it was barely snowing as much. But Suki insisted I still go to school, so I did.
After a while of no racing, I became restless, but I didn't tell anyone, believing I would sleep soon.
That was a big fat lie I fed myself of too many times. I couldn't or just wouldn't sleep. I only took a few short naps through out the day and I was just fine.
But, I was still weary.
The problem was, this happens every time I know something will happen. And it will be bad.
Like omen bad. Or like evil-bunny-rabbits-taking-over-the-world bad.
Just like the time before my dog Mojo was mulled by a stray pit-bull, I couldn't rest for 2 weeks than BAM, Mojo was gone along with the shit hole (I, a-hem, accidentally killed it from hitting too hard with mom's special bat).
The same thing happened to me before Dad's death.
So this was another warning, and I had no idea what will happen and that really got to me because it meant I couldn't stop it.
My sleeping pattern (or lack of) became worse by each day. And the gang notice it as well. They try to help but there wasn't much they could. I gave up on trying to sleep.
To my foolish brain I equated this: Sleepless equals less worrying for me. Stupid, I know, right?
Instead I act like a retard and sacrificed my sleep to keep my sanity in check for the short term, because, honestly, you and I know that I will go insane sooner or later. Hopefully it's the 'later'. After a month, the gang was still worried so they decided to head up to New York, where many of the major street races were being held, in hope the races would help ease me. It helped ease my body but it didn't relive the worries of possible mega load of shitty misfortune. About 2 weeks into the races, things turn for the worse.
It was during the 5th Event, when the pigs and the arrogant assholes came out of nowhere. They started arresting many of the people or car chasing many of the drivers (if you must know, they were after some Russian mob that was holding the Events).
I got separated from the gang, but I saw Jesse, one of the gang members who was a bit shy but had a brilliant mind and was a fun friend who taught me many things about computers. He was protecting Mia, only to get shot by one of the Russian member who was shooting randomly at people like a moron.
I didn't even get the chance to scream in horror because I was caught and shoved to ground, being screeched at to remain quiet and other crap the arrogant assholes spilled out of his fat mouth.
But it wasn't the pig's threat that silenced me, in fact I couldn't hear a sound from his lips or anything around me, not even my own screaming before I went silent.
Everything was silent to me as I stared at Jesse, who was lying on the ground awkwardly, face toward my direction, and bleeding from his mouth and his glossy eyes wide open.
He was dead.
I couldn't cry for the loss of a friend and a brother.
I didn't have the time.
Numbness. It was the only thing I felt as I was dragged away from my family and friends.
One and a half years, I've been in juvie hall, prison for underage delinquents.
I had changed even more so since the death of my dad.
Eighteen months of only the memory of Jesse lying awkwardly and dead. I still remember too vividly for my taste.
Nine months ago Suki was able to find me, and said they would try to bail me out but I refuse to let them. I couldn't let them; they would be caught themselves. Plus, it gave me the chance to think, to finally focus on reality again. This allowed me to be build myself stronger, to ready myself - I don't want to be hurt again…
Its been eighteen months and I was finally free with my scars as my story about a changed person I have become.
I had changed from my time spent there. I felt the change; I feel different. More… developed. Was it fate or just life that these misfortunes seem to drop around me like rain?
Either way, I still felt lost…
The gang didn't know when my release date was, which I was grateful for. The day after the release, I took the gray hound bus to Florida with the money I had pick pocketed from some rich hag who was too busy looking at jewelry for her poor, tortured white poodle. (That poor, poor soul.)
With her money I was ready to go home, to go back to my mom.
It took me almost a whole week to get to Jacksonville, FL.
The first thing I did was to find my mom at the Old Hag's place. But when I got there, the house was empty, with only a sale sign in the front. Before I started to panic, I asked around and found out that the Old Hag finally the kick the bucket.
About time. For a time I was actually afraid she was a real Old Hag that will live centuries just to torture me. Seriously.
Unfortunately, mom was put in a hospital. Now I was bit panicky, because mom never would go the hospital unless something was life threatening wrong, even then she would still had to be dragged kicking and hitting.
I visited three hospitals until I finally found the place mom was in. It was a small hospital, a sort of like a senior's home. I only felt hope but dread came and squelched it all out.
Sickly pale.
That was all I could described mom. She was lying there on the bed with way too many machines and ivy hooked up to her. I just sat there in an uncomfortable hospital chair looking at mom. Trying to comprehend this was MY mom, this sickly pale, skin to bone figure was once my beautiful, headstrong mom, lying there.
She almost looked like a newly dead corpse, making me think she was dead for a second or two.
I couldn't cry. It's been so long. So I didn't. I wouldn't. I built myself stronger than this.
My knuckles had more scars than before.
Instead I just stared at my mom's resting face. She was calm, with no care in the world. The doctor told me mom had some sort of genetic fatal heart cancer, just like her old man had.
It was several hours later when mom finally woke up from her sedated sleep. She saw me and stared as I stared back. Mom was the first to speak and those words had left me dumbfounded and laughing hysterical, "Where the hell have you been, you idiotic son?" said a bit playful and stern with her raspy voice. All I could do was hug her gently as she hugged back weakly.
And so I told her from the beginning with every detail. I wasn't able to finish my mini-life story, but she made me promise I that I would finish it. Before I left she made me take her bankcard so I could take some money. Not wanting to argue and worsen her state, I did. As I left I made a vow to myself that I would become better and get a stable life, if not for me than for my mom's sake.
Within a week, I found a cheap, dirty apartment that took me two whole days to clean, and bought second-hand clothes and other necessities. I signed up for highschool as a sophomore with a few freshman classes mixed in.
Everyday I would visit mom and we would talk for hours (After I finished the mini-life story, mom was bit pissed about the "being caught and sent to juvie'" bit, but calmed down after a while).
Sometimes we would joke or I would show her the picture album Suki gave me during one of her many visits to juvie'. It showed myself racing at all kind of events, playing around with Brain or the others, a few family photos, my first winter, my birthday celebration, and many more.
Some days I just like to read one of the school's books to mom with animation, just like she did when I was younger.
After a few months, it was my sixteenth birthday. Mom and I celebrated by walking in the garden and having non-sugar cake that we both agreed taste like shit. That day was also the day we had a heart-to-heart talk. I still remember it.
***Flashback***
We were sitting by the little ponds with the annoying ducks quacking every second. After throwing some rocks at the ground to scare them, they finally took the hint and flew away, leaving peace behind. It was that moment mom choose to talk.
"Honey, Sam, I want to apologize to you." She said firmly and sincerely. I was confuse to why she would apologize though.
"Uh. Am I missing something? I'm confused." But mom just looked at me with sad filled eyes and tears that had yet to fall from her eyes.
"Because my grief took me over from being a parent you needed, but I didn't realize it before it was to late." She paused to gather her thoughts; "Because of that I couldn't protect you from my mother's cruelty and it drove you away." She let out a shaky breath as she squeezed my hand a bit tighter.
"I thought I lost you, baby. I really did, and I couldn't take the guilt. 'm so sorry you grew up without a stable mother. I'm such a hor-"
She was cut of instantly. I wouldn't let her finish that sentence.
"Mom, trust me, you have nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for getting loss in your own grief. It was understandable as to why. I just … I wish I was able to help you. But I couldn't and because of that I ran away from reality and … from you." I paused to collect my thoughts on how to explain better. "I lost myself on the way, I admit. If it wasn't for the juvie' time, I would still be avoiding the reality. Fate just has a funny, sick way of making things to work things out. So don't apologize, OK?" I held her hand close to my chest, trying to make her understand that none of this was her fault.
She hesitated, before nodding that she understood what I said. After that, we sat in silence, a peaceful silence.
***End of Flashback***
Ever since that talk, we became even closer. I would spend all my free time with her, even if she was resting, I still like to sit beside her and watch her, trying to memorize what she looks like before she leaves me and this world.
Since I couldn't stay after nine o'clock and I was still sleepless, I got a night-shift job as a janitor at a middle school. Though, when mom found out about my inability to sleep she was upset, but I reasoned with her that I felt much better than sleeping and I took naps whenever needed.
I didn't want to tell her the real reason; otherwise she would worry and worsen her health. And I didn't want that. I selfishly wanted mom to stay alive as long as possible, just for a while longer before she join dad in the afterlife or wherever. So she dropped it, doesn't mean she accepted the excuses.
She was too stubborn to.
It's been four weeks since my birthday, and mom's health was worsening. She was growing even more thinner if possible, sleeping more than usual and was unable to eat much or talk, so I did most of the talking. I spent even more time with her. Skipping school or work just to be with her, and to me it wasn't enough, I wanted more countless time.
… But I knew her time was soon. I just didn't realize how soon.
It was a week later on a Thursday, that I got the call and I knew this was it. The hospital said mom wasn't going to last more than two hours or so.
I ran to mom; I felt like a little kid running to their parents after a nightmare.
It took me about twenty minutes without stopping for a breathe.
When I entered my mom's room, I was at her bedside instantly. She was awake, but in pain without the machines to help her breathe. It tortured me that I couldn't help her ease the pain in anyway, so I took her hand and held it to my face and kiss her knuckles gently, to help her focus on me and not the hurting.
She opened her lips to speak but closed it. Finally she squeezed my hand back slightly and pulled it weakly towards her lips and kissed my knuckles. That was our way of saying 'I love you.' It was the only movement she was able to do the past two weeks.
She opened her mouth again, and she rasped out her last words to me that I would always remember. "I love you so much, my baby. Promise me, please promise me you will find happiness." She took a shaky, painful breath and spoke again. "Don't lose yourself. You're strong. You're a Witwicky. No sacrifice, no victory, right? Always remember that, my Sammy."
It was about half hour later when mom took her last breath with a smile on her face and closed her eyes for her final time. Finally she was with dad, her beloved, her other half, her soul mate once more.
That was the comfort I only had when I finally let the dam break.
I cried for first time since dad's death. I cried like a baby without shame.
I just cried for hours just holding her lifeless hand to my quivering lips. Feeling the heat leaving and coldness seeping in as I held on to her for the last time.
It was two days later that I got a call from the law office. Apparently mom made a Will just after my sixteenth birthday. She left me all the money there was. The cremation she wanted, just like dad, was paid for. She wanted her ash to be with dads at the Tranquility's cemetery.
And there was a very short list of guardians I was to go to. The lawyer said she already contacted the people on the list and that only one was willing to take me in.
Mom's brother, Anthony.
So I packed my valuable possessions, along with my mom's ashes and bought a one-way ticket to Fresno, CA.
I am now heading to my new life, for better or for worse, I will be ready for whatever fate throws at me.
(End Sam POV)
Watch out, Samuel Witwicky is starting a new chapter in his life and is going to kick asses on his way to find that happiness, liked he promised his mom he would. He won't let that promise be left in vain. For his mother's sake.
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Finally! End of prologue.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Transformers or the Fast & Furious, only the plot and my OC. Thank you!. And I truly apologize to anyone who likes Jesse from Fast and Furious and/or Judy W. and Ron from Transformers.
ALSO! I would love to send a thank you to my beta, Screamer – she did a lovely job! So if there are any mistakes they are mine
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