Hey! Just one quick thing, this story is rated T, but there is a lot of swearing first chapter because of the character's personality. That should be the only thing not a Tlevel. Also, I do not own!
Call it a morbid curiosity or the result of being bored out of his processor, but Barricade found himself once again tailing the young femme across town. He couldn't figure out this sudden fascination with the girl, but something about her nature made him curious. Not in a romantic sense, but in the way a scientist might feel about a new species they'd discovered.
The fleshling was nothing special in either abilities or appearance. She was the average height for a human femme, with short black hair. Her eyes were a bright shade of grey, but not considered an unnatural color by her species. She had no particular talents about her that he knew of, unless of course you counted her rather ferocious temper. While Barricade had not been on the receiving end, he had felt an emotion almost akin to pity for those she unleashed it on. In the past five months that he had been observing her, her hot-headed attitude had cost her two, almost three, occupations.
Such an occasion had been what had first caught his attention. Barricade had been laying low outside one of the humans fueling stations, trying to catch a light recharge. He still had all his sensors on high alert for any Autobot or Decepticon activity, as he was a fugitive from both after the events of Mission city, and had overheard a commotion between her and her superior. At first he had not paid much attention to the conversation inside, but at one point, the woman's superior had made a rather inappropriate action against her and she had come alive. She'd struck him across the face and made several rude suggestions on what he should do to himself, as well as calling him a multitude of names, some of which Barricade had to look up the definitions for. He was quite impressed.
The confrontation had led to her storming out vowing to never return and to Barricade discovering that her name was Laurel Jameson.
Barricade had found quite a bit of amusement in this instance, more than he had had in months, so he had begun to follow her around in hopes of catching another entertaining demonstration. He was not disappointed. About three and a half months later, at her knew place of employment, a customer had been rude to her over some small misunderstanding, and the girl exploded. This time, security members had to escort her from the premises.
Barricade was beginning to enjoy the young femme's fiery temper. Eventually though, it lead him to becoming more curious about her; his basis scout programing made him incredible curious by nature. He began to keep almost constant tabs on her as a way to satisfy his curiosity. She was so unlike any human he had ever met-not that he'd truly met many-doing things mostly to the contrary of what her species was known for. She did not travel with anyone, preferring to stay alone, and she seemed to be without a family unit.
Even frenzy was beginning to take an interest in the femme for her differentiating qualities, even going so far as to refer to her as 'their femme'. The phrase annoyed Barricade, which incited Frenzy to use at every opportunity.
"S-s-s-s-so how i-is our little fe-e-e-mme today?" frenzy asked. Barricade hadn't quite been able to fix him after he scrapped himself in Hoover damn, so his vocal processer was glitched and prone to stuttering and static, much to both of their annoyances.
Barricade only gave him a small grunt of annoyed tolerance as an answer. He and frenzy had been following the girl for the past half hour as she "ran errands" as the humans called it. It was starting to get dark out, but there was no decrease in the people on the streets. He supposed this wasn't called the 'busiest city' for nothing. It also made New York a perfect place for Barricade to hide, completely on the other side of the continent from where both the Autobots and Decepticons had been most commonly spotted.
The femme excited the latest shop, seeming to have completed her last errand and hailed a cab. It took her several tries but she finally got one to pull over and she slid in easily before they were off. Barricade expertly weaved between traffic following at an unsuspicious distance as she headed towards her home.
The taxi driver pulled up to the edge of Laurel's neighborhood and parked the car off to the side of the road. Laurel sat up in the back seat, jerking her head phones out of her ears when she noticed their sudden and unexpected stop. This was nowhere near where she had told the cabbie to let her off.
"End a' the line toots," he said.
"What the hell do you mean 'end of the line?!' And don't call me toots!" Laurel snapped.
The taxi driver looked over his shoulder at her. He was an older man, well into his forties with a pronounced gut, and thin wisps of hair that stilled retained the grease of their youth. A fat, until cigar (at Laurel's insistence) was wedged within the remainder of his teeth. His New York accent was as thick as they come, with expressive vowels that made his checks jiggle.
"I mean, I'm not driving my cab through this part a' town. This is ya' stop."
Laurel ground her teeth together to keep from calling the cabby some pretty fantastic bad words, and instead opted to kick his door open and yank her bag out after her. She slammed the door behind with as much force as she had used to open it and started down the road.
"Hey! Where you think your goin'? You still owe $27.50." the cabby shouted out his window.
Laurel whipped around. "Like hell I do!" She yelled back. "I told you my address when I got in. If you weren't gonna drive me all the way there, you should have said so. I don't owe you a damn dime you sleaze ball."
Laurel turned around, threw her bag over her shoulder and started walking. The cabby leaned farther out the window, shouting after her, "Yo, Imma call the cops on you!"
Laurel turned around again to face the cabby, walking backwards, "Go ahead," she yelled, giving and exaggerated shrug for his benefit. "If you won't come to this neighborhood, what makes you think the cops will?" She whipped back around front as the cab driver started cursing her before peeling out with the sound of squealing tires.
Laurel hiked her bag up higher onto her shoulder again and flicked the cab driver off. If she wanted to deal with these kinds of assholes, she'd just go back to one of her old jobs.
She took a few deep breathes in and out to calm herself down again. She was still a few blocks from the shithole she called home and it was almost fully dark. Or at least as dark as 'the city that never sleeps' got. Laurel was gonna have to walk fast if she wanted to avoid trouble.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and ducked her head down, staying well with in the light of the street lamps and as far away from the side walk as that would allow. Laurel had learned that if you kept your head down and kept to yourself, it looked less like you were looking for trouble. She tried to make herself look unsuspecting, to blend into the cold gray of the street. The last thing she needed was to be cornered by some wanna be thugs. She didn't have any money on her now, so anybody who jumped her would be sorely disappointed, especially after she gave them a fat lip.
The city was surprisingly quiet tonight, not peaceful, but quiet. The noise from the center of city was still there, with lots of honking and wailing sirens and the constant construction sounds to keep up with the ever growing population. But that was several miles from where Laurel was, almost like it was another world. A world where it never got dark, nobody was ever scared, and anything seemed possible; such was the allure of New York.
Laurel was a born and bred New Yorker, so she could see through all the bullshit that was supposed to be the Greatest City on Earth. If she had a dime for every sucker she met here, she would be able to afford a better apartment.
An engine rumble interrupted Laurel's thoughts. She turned around and saw a gleaming black and white police cruiser inching its way along the street, headed in her direction.
Laurel cursed quietly under her breath. Of all the days for the police to actually start caring about this neighborhood, she thought.
Laurel kept walking at a normal pace, trying to keep a low profile as the police cruiser continued to patrol the street. Her eyes flashed everywhere, looking for some type of escape. She was almost certain if they saw her, it would not end well for anyone. Combing her lingering habit of running from the cops at first sighting and her trepidation about being spotted now made Laurel jumpier than a jackrabbit. She spotted an alleyway a few hundred feet ahead on the right between a couple of low rise buildings and was surprised by the sense of salvation she felt at the sight of it. As inconspicuously as possible, she ducked into the alley and crouched behind a dumpster until she saw the headlights pass, then waited a few extra minutes just to be sure. When there was no sight or sound of the cruiser, she finally relaxed a little.
When Laurel was sure they weren't coming back, she slowly stood up, readjusting the strap on her bag to a more comfortable spot. She ducked her head down and slipped back out of the alley, but she had only made it a few steps before two large hands shoved her back into the shadows.
"Where you goin' chica? The party's this way."
There were five of them, spread out almost in a line, herding her back into the alleyway. The one who had pushed her was obviously in the lead and he was dressed in a white wifebeater and low hanging jeans. There were scattered letters tattooed across his knuckles in huge gothic style letters, and a few others on his arms. Laurel recognized one as the symbol for a local gang that prowled her neighborhood. Mostly just small time hooligans, but Laurel didn't get that vibe from these guys.
I am so screwed, she thought.
She tried to just step around them but one of the other guys just shoved her back again and they all chuckled. She stuck her hands deep into her pockets and her fingers wrapped around the cold steel handle of her small switch blade, the one she carried for situations exactly like this. She felt the steel warm in her palm as she nearly crushed the little pocket knife she was in the habit of carrying. It was a pitiful defense, but it was more for the peace of mind it gave her.
Another one of the men stepped up to her and put his hands on her hips to drag her closer.
"You wanna have some fun, bonita?" he whispered in her ear as his hands slid farther down her hips.
"Get off," Laurel growled, trying valiantly to hide the small amount of fear in her voice. She placed her free hand on his chest and started to push him away. He didn't budge.
"Or what?" he shoved her hard and she slammed into the wall of the alley. He pinned her up against the wall and gave her a lusty up and down. Laurel didn't hesitate. She brought her knee up hard and fast, hitting him between the legs and he fell with a groan. Another one of them jumped forward to grab her and she drew her knife with a small click. Her switchblade slid out and she gave a wild slash at his face. He gave a howl of pain and stumbled back enough for Laurel to slip past him and elbow the last one the rest in her path out of the way. She made a mad dash for the street before any of them could recover enough to grab her.
She stumbled when she hit the curb but then she was off, tearing down the street. It took the men little-to-no-time to take up pursuit. She heard them calling after her as she ran, describing how dead she was when they caught her and what they were gonna do to her before they actually killed her.
Laurel closed her eyes for a second and let the fear wash over her, fueling her adrenaline. She still had her knife in her hand and she clutched it tighter. It may be a weak defense, but if she lost it and they caught her…she didn't want to think too hard about it.
She could hear them getting closer to her and went to risk a look over her shoulder, but before she could turn her head, something slammed into her back and she crashed to the ground, her chin scraping on the concrete hard enough she felt blood dribbling down and make her teeth rattle in her skull. Her small blade skittered across the pavement and stopped tauntingly out of reach.
Still slightly dazed she felt someone roll her onto her back. A sharp slap brought her back to full alert to see one of the men sitting on top of her. It was the first one that had pushed her into the alley. She started struggling, bucking her legs to try and dislodge him and clawing at his face like a wild animal. He grabbed her wrists to stop her but not before she got in a deep scratch on his left cheek. He back handed her and Laurel saw stars. Taking advantage of her momentary disorientation, he pinned her arms above her head until his friends caught up with them.
The one she had kneed in the groin reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair and used it to haul her up to her feet. Laurel gave a small gasp of pain, and grabbed at his hand, trying to pry it from her hair in vain. He brought her face up close to his and sneered at her.
"You're gonna be really sorry for that, bitch."
Laurel fixed him with her hardest glare, giving nothing away about her feelings. He slammed his fist into her stomach and all the wind rushed out of her. Her knees gave out from the force of it so the only thing keeping her upright was his hand twisted painfully into her hair.
Suddenly, a car roared up onto the street, headlights flashing in the dark. Red and blue lit up the road and the siren wailed loudly. The guy holding her hair swore loudly and dropped her as he and his buddies shot off down the street. The police cruiser continued to barrel straight down the middle of the street towards Laurel and she scrambled to get out of the way in time.
She'd barely gotten to her knees before the cruiser was upon her, but instead of crusher her into a splat on the concrete, there was a grinding of metal and the car launched over the top of her head, a good ten feet into the air. It flew over her head, landing in front of the fleeing men, and stood up.
Whatever it was, it stood almost twenty feet tall, with bright red eyes that looked down contemptuously on the men. Its eyes swiveled up and locked on Laurel's for a second. Something about the way the thing was looking at her, it wasn't reassuring or anything, but it wasn't regarding her like it had been the men, it seemed more curious about her than disgusted or upset. Its attention swiveled back to the man cowering at its feet. It was a standoff, nobody was moving and they were simply staring at each other, assessing what the other would do when Laurel saw one of the men reach into the back of his pants.
She stumbled to her feet, shouting a warning but it was too late. The man pulled a small handgun from the back of his pants and shouted "Vete al Diablo!" before he fired off three shots. The second bullet hit the thing right in one of its red eyes. Little pieces of glass tinkled to the pavement and wires sparked from inside as it reeled back with a roar of pain. It covered one of its eyes with a long-clawed hand and backhanded the man who had shot him with the other. He tore into the rest of the group within seconds, swatting them aside like flies or smashing them with a giant fist so they crashed onto the street like broken dolls.
When none of them were still standing, he jerked his head back up to look at Laurel, who was still staring. It straightened up to its full height and started towards her. She took two steps backward before spinning on her heel and running, slowing only slightly to scoop up her knife and keep going. The ground started shaking, and suddenly something cold wrapped around her waist and her feet left the ground. She kicked and struggled and made as big a fuss as she possible could, even going so far as to try and stab the hand with her pathetic little pocket knife. The blade cracked and shattered on impact, becoming entirely useless.
The hand wrapped around her started squeezing until she could barely draw in a breath. Darkness crept in her visions and she passed out.