I don't own Transformers or any of the characters (with exception of those I make up). They belong to their respective owners.
This is my first fanfic, so bear with me. I love to write and love Transformers, but I have never combined the two before now. I already know how the entire story will go, barring some minor changes along the way. I hope you will enjoy this. BTW... Massive Props to my hubby who, despite his disdain for reading/writing, has been helping me out. I'm not always that witty, but he certainly is, so all the good come backs are his, not mine! Ha! Ha! Also, this will get intense and maybe a bit gory, but I will put warnings on the top of the chapters about that. This chapter has some blood in it. I just wanted to establish the viciousness of the one of the characters, and explain some background relevant to another.
I put this as an adventure/romance, because there will be a bit of romantic tendency between two characters--especially at the end, and bit of sexuality sprinkled throughout. How far, exactly, I will go with that... I'm still undecided.
Finding The Mark.
Thick, blonde-streaked, brown hair in two braids dropped down onto each shoulder of the nervous misfit as she absent-mindedly scratched at her upper right arm producing the faint squeak of fingernails on metal.
"Stop that."
She stopped mid scratch pulling her hand away quickly. "Can't help it," she said quietly, her eyes scanning ahead expectantly.
"Learn," She looked up to see the stern red optics focused on her disapprovingly. The dangerous black face looked back out at the same distance she had been watching. "You know it doesn't come off."
She frowned. No, it wouldn't. Just like the rest of what drove her to near insanity. This body. This oddly mixed up, half human, half mechanoid body. It would be the torment of the rest of her life, however long that may last. At least she was back on Earth. But this was not exactly a source of joy. She was here under a false pretense. One year had passed on Earth while training to be a Decepticon assassin--it was all a guise to get back to Earth. This world would never welcome her back in the form she now had, but that didn't quench her desire to save it.
A sudden amused thought struck her. The Decepticon jet she stood next to in the open aircraft hangar had not only uttered more than three words in a row, but they were all in English! This was rare for the quiet, calculating behemoth. A small smile tugged at her lips.
Across the darkened horizon a wicked thunderstorm flashed its impending rage. Each strike of beautifully arced light danced from storm cloud to ground, a painful bridge, a necessity that would destroy in order to bring new life. The brewing storm would be coming in at about the same time as the companion they waited for.
She hoped he would beat the rain, dreading the inevitable, Grab a towel and dry me off, MUTANT—and watch the paint! She sighed, he wasn't really that vain, he just liked to torment her—pushing her around and blaming her for anything and everything. Despite all this, she knew he had a twisted sort of fondness for the little assassin he had spent so much time meticulously training. Even so, his reputation rested on her success, and he had made it deathly clear she would not be allowed to smirch it.
Speak of the devil, literally,she thought as a few large drops began to hit the pavement. She ran to the back of the hangar to grab a towel as a Saleen Mustang police cruiser screeched through the hangar doors. Leaving black skid marks down the length of the concrete floor. He stopped exactly where she had been standing, knocking her back against the wall. Such rough treatment was his favorite entertainment. She considered whipping the towel at his headlights, but the tall black Decepticon still standing by the open end of the hangar shook his head once in warning. He would not have it. It would only mean a fight that he would need to step into so as to prevent them from damaging each other. There were more important things to waste energy on.
"Wipe it off, Mutant." She narrowed her eyes at Barricade as the police car sat expectantly, waiting. But she dutifully got up and began carefully soaking the rain water off his lustrous black and white surface. "And watch the paint! I don't want to see any scratches or water spots!" She knew he was smirking to himself triumphantly in there somewhere.
As she ran the towel over his back and sides she couldn't resist the jab once more, "You still have those markings wrong, idiot. I'm telling you, only the dumbest of humans would fall for a police car that has the words, 'to punish and enslave' written on one side and a Decepticon emblem where the police badge should be, Block Head!" She stepped back having finished the quick wipe down, knowing he would try to knock her over again as he transformed.
"Shows what you know," He said swinging an arm in her direction as he transformed.
"Predictable." She quipped leaping into the air in her signature aerial somersault, landing perfectly. Barricade sneered at her and thrust his hands, palms upward, toward her revealing a nauseating amount of human blood. The little half human, half robot, cyborg felt her weapons systems arm reflexively at the implications of what he had done.
Sensing her weapons come on line, he pulled his hands back and grinned maliciously,"You wanna play?" But he suddenly straightened up and turned to face the much taller, all black Decepticon who had stealthily walked up behind him.
"Well?" The taller robot looked down at Barricade expectantly.
"Still nothing. But I'll find them, Commander Skyfire. It's just a matter of time."
The little cyborg's weapons still armed, she considered, briefly, a nice fat electric jolt to Barricade's legs, but decided against, knowing the repercussion for interrupting the conversation would be more severe from Skyfire than from Barricade. She would not cross Skyfire; retaliation would have to wait.
The taller Decepticon turned and strolled thoughtfully away to watch the storm again. Barricade stood still for a moment then shook his hands at his sides, casting little flecks of blood across the concrete hangar floor. Peering over his shoulder at her, "Women and children," he goaded, "They scream the best."
She took the opportunity. The cold pulse of electricity traveled down her arm, gaining strength as it extended out to the legs of the mech standing just in front of her. Letting out a hard breath, his back arched and knees buckled. As he fell she activated a cloaking device-part of her weapons arsenal-warping light around her entire body to make it appear as though nothing were there where she stood, and simultaneously concealing her Decepticon energy signal and body heat from any scans. The only thing she couldn't cloak was smell and sound. Barricade no sooner hit, knees to the floor, then whirled around to pounce, but she was no where to be seen.
"I can still hear you," He stated, his head turning to follow the softly running footsteps.
"Hear this Bee-och!" De-cloaking, she flipped him off.
"Enough," came the deep, quiet voice of the other mech still watching the lightening from the front of the hangar. Barricade froze glaring at her.
"Hey, it's not my fault Rosy Red Palms got himself all worked up chasing squishies instead of tracking Autobot energy signals and now he wants to vent his failures!" Barricade looked murderous, but he quietly remained where he was. Skyfire turned just enough to give her a warning look and she, too, fell silent.
Setting the hangar doors to close the enormous black Decepticon walked away from the front of the hangar. "You need to prepare. You will be following the mark tomorrow. No contact. Surveillance only." He stopped in front of her. "No games."
She made a face. "No fun." (Barricade grinned.) "I suppose I'll be hitchin' a ride with Super Trooper to the school?" Skyfire gave a single nod in reply. "Do you have any idea how that will not go over? How exactly am I supposed to explain that--given that you put in the school profile that my fake 'parents' are airline pilots, not policemen? I'll look like I'm arriving from the penitentiary! It won't jive."
"Be creative."
She shrugged. "And the scout?"
"No contact."
"Not even just a little?" Red optics narrowed slightly. "Can I walk past him?" Red optics narrowed more warningly. "You're no fun."
He turned and strolled towards a large open space in the hangar, "This is your assignment, not your entertainment."
A motionless sea of sand stretched out around her. Sand dunes formed in waves that seemed frozen in time. The dry desert air hung hot and heavy. Four fighter jets crossed overhead, the whine of their engines the only acknowledgment of their stealthy existence. Soft thumps sounded behind her. An annoyed Barricade was struggling to wade through the sand, each step sinking deep, filling his lower leg joints and hinges with the gritty substance.
Her comm crackled with the Air Commander's disdainful voice, "The base is ahead, Barricade. The fools are actually on high alert. It appears they have tried to lay an ambush for us. Let's see what your little minion can do!"
The two dark figures on the ground crawled up the back of a dune, lying flat at the top to avoid detection. Without a word Barricade pointed to a set of black rectangles peering out of the sand not far away. For a moment his red optics bored into her, gaging her reaction. Then he nodded toward the concealed guard bunker, her signal to go.
She could feel herself cloak, wrapping the darkness around her, just as the dread wrapped around her heart. These were the very people who would capture her only to take her apart piece by piece in the name of scientific research, but she still could not justify what was about to become of them. Inside, she silently screamed even as her body began picking its way along the edge of the dune keeping the footprints concealed behind its crest. Circling around to the back of the guard bunker she could make out the shape of the open door. She shook her head, knowing they had propped it open for ventilation and that this had made her job much easier.
"Live Wire, report in when you have taken out the guard bunker," Starscream's voice scratched out over the comm. Within she screamed for the guards to close the door, maybe then they would know she was coming, not that it would do them any good. They never heard a sound.
Three long, curved blades sprang from their sheaths along the back of her mechanoid arm. Entering the bunker she silently wrapped that arm around the neck of a soldier peeking out through the rectangular windows. The sharp blades pulled easily through his neck meeting only slight resistance and they tugged through his windpipe, his cry of alarm gurgling into a raspy death. Stunned, the other guard reached for his falling companion, only to feel the invisible three inch blades slice through his armour and then into his chest. Too late, he jumped back against the wall and slid down, face ashen, lips turning blue, clutching at his shredded heart.
"Guards dispatched." It was her voice, but she didn't want it said, didn't want it to be real. Her mind railed against these actions, even as her body stalked forward, following the next set of instructions. Trapped within, she could do nothing to stop the madness.
"Proceed to the radar tower--and be quick about it!" The impatience was evident in Starscream's voice. He may be having second thoughts about bringing her on this raid, but Barricade had insisted, claiming it was part of her training.
The computer lock on the door was no match for her. With a light touch of her mech hand, and a change in the frequency of the same dangerous current she used as a weapon, complete access could be gained to any computer processor, human made or even mechanoid. Inside, she found the radar tower nearly empty, and these men were not wearing as much protection, trusting to their shelter and alarms to keep them safe. They also died quickly and silently.
Mechanoid hand retracted, replaced by a smaller version of the EMP (Electro-Magnetic Pulse) cannon a certain black Autobot was infamous for. One blast took out the entire radar systems as well as the command center one floor below. The soldiers running out into the stairwell were all met with a wild but invisible onslaught. Each fell to a bloody death. Anguish ripped through her trapped soul as one human after another fell in the fury. She could not stop this killing machine, locked inside, screaming for it to be over.
"Radar offline. Command Center offline. Humans dispatched." She heard her own cold voice again. "Bring the rain." A smile snaked across that blood smeared face. The blood of her victims.
"That's more like it." Starscream sounded almost pleased as the bombing began. Loud thunderclaps and double booms sounded all around the small figure climbing over bodies to reach the outside.
Before her eyes stood a tank, rolling forward, muzzle tracking something above and behind her. Another EMP blast flared out from her, racing along the reinforced pavement and stopping the tank dead in its tracks. Starscream transformed from F-22 Raptor to robot mode above her head and came to hoover a few feet off the ground and several feet before her. Taking in the sight of the imobilized tank, he twisted his head around to peer at her over his shoulder.
She immediately dropped to one knee and bowed her head in submission to the Decepticon jet, "All yours, Lord Starscream." He said nothing, just turned back to the tank. With a movement so quick it was hard even for her to see, he leaped on the tank indescriminately tearing out chunks of fleshly bodies along with the tank armour, flinging both into the air around him.
Behind her came the familiar squeal of rubber on pavement. Barricade plowed through running soldiers, making sure to cross back over their bodies a second and third time. Overhead, Skyfire light up the night with the muzzle flare from his 30 mm cannon as he strafed the small base in his black SU-47 Firkin mode. The carnage around her was dizzying, and again she cried out silently from her soul's prison within. At the other end of the base, Thundercracker and Skywarp transformed into their respective robot modes and began stalking through the dark, blasting this tank, that rocket launcher, mowing down scores of human solders. Her internal scream for them to stop could not be heard. She begged for it to end, but the sound of her cries never made it outside her body. She tried to close her eyes, but they remained open to the all the chaos, death, destruction. Anguish rocked her, as her silent screams ripped through her soul.
And then it rocked her again. Little one... came a familiar voice. Another rocking motion, Little one awaken... Slowly she could feel herself being pulled out the nightmare. Desperately, she embraced the retreat, clinging to the sound of his voice. "Wake up, little one. Wake up now." The gentle giant's black face swam before her drowsy eyes. She blinked the sleepiness away, concentrating on Skyfire. It had been just another nightmare. Her fragmented mind recalling crimes against humanity in an unconscious world. Softly she began to cry. The anguish of the dream rolling back over her as she remembered how it had played out in real life only months ago. They had been cruel killers too, but did they really deserve to die like that?
"Shhhhhh. Quiet, little one. Just a dream. Just a dream," He soothed.
She wiped the tear streaked left side of her half mech face, and looked around at the darkness inside the hangar. From her perch on Skyfire's chest, though the large mech lay on the floor, she could see Barricade in a deep state of recharge across the hangar. A large black hand reached up and blanketed her comfortingly. The security brought with his touch calmed her somewhat, chasing away the remnants of the dream. She curled up under that protective hand and slowly began shutting down unnecessary systems hoping to catch some more elusive sleep before the dawn.
"Let me out here."
"This isn't the school."
"What's the matter, Reno 911, afraid I might play hooky? Just let me out here before these kids can see me getting out of a police cruiser." She frowned, "Well, what's supposed to look like one anyway."
The black and white cruiser pulled off to the side of the road a few feet from the parking lot entrance farthest from the school and opened its passenger door. She heaved a sigh staring at the imposing sight of the high school—join the Decepticons, conquer the universe, oh! and relive your high school years! The cruiser jerked forward, door still open, retrieving her from her thoughts. "I'm going," she said reaching down by her legs to grab a black backpack before exiting the vehicle, which promptly slammed the door shut nearly catching her in it.
"Oh! You wanna be nasty? Wait till I get back and we'll play!" She breathed, taking a swing at the hood with her bag.
"Promises." He growled back. But she just winked and turned on her heels toward the school.
Walking along brisquely she began nervously adjusting her body hugging long sleeved brown hoody, pulling the hood over her braided hair. The jeans she had found at a second hand store were frayed at the leg cuffs and a little loose in the waistband, causing them to hang low on her hips. This outfit was a bit warm for the season, but she dared not risk exposing any more of the metal that dappled her body than necessary. Especially the large purple insignia on her upper right arm; the one that she occasionally scratched at during bouts of nervousness.
As she weaved through the various cars and trucks parked in the student's parking lot, she spied him. The scout. Hard to mistake that bright yellow camaro. She found the urge irresistible. Despite Skyfire's orders to the contrary, she couldn't pass up the opportunity. Deliberately, she made her way towards it. Making certain her energy signals were concealed and the hologram projection covered the metallic luster of that half of her face, she sauntered up to the front of the parked camaro.
And stopped.
A slow, devious smile spread across her face.
Reaching a tentative left hand out towards the hood of the camaro she heard a chirp, like the sound of a car alarm warning of an intruder's proximity.
"Relax," she purred. And slowly advanced her hand. Fingertips lightly rested on the edge of the hood. "Camaros were always my favorite." She shifted her weight provocatively, taking a small, seductive step towards the vehicle. "Yellow was never my thing, but… you make it look good," she continued, looking up through her eyelashes with a honey dripping smile. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and lifting her head, "You smell like finish lines and racing trophies." Head up to bear a graceful ivory neck, eyes still closed, with a slightly pleased, soft expression. "The places I could take you, things I could do…" Dragging her fingers lightly across the hood behind her as she sauntered away, "See ya, Scout."
A few feet from the yellow camaro she heard it chirp again, and turned to give it a flirtatious back glance, before skipping off to the school. I don't see why I can't enjoy my assignment. A little fun never hurt anyone.
"Well, Miss…" the elderly lady with a thin, stiff back peered at the papers in front of her, "Miss… Wire, it says here you are a new transfer." She paused, "How do you pronounce your first name? It looks like 'Live,'" she pointed to words printed on the paper turning it around so that the new student before her could see.
The student frowned, I'm gonna pound Barricade! He did that on purpose. Looking up at the School Counselor in front of her, she smiled meekly, "That's a typo. It's Liv—as in Liv Tyler? My parents are big fans of the actress. I was named in her honor." Rip out all the wiring I can reach under his chest plate.
"Oh. Well. We'll have to fix that won't we. I'm afraid it's already been entered into the system the wrong way, though. Sorry about that. When will we be meeting your parents? I'm surprised they didn't come with you on your first day. Your father said he had urgent business to take care of when I talked to him on the phone. I hope he isn't one of those non-involved types." Absentmindedly she threw in, "He did seem a little strange on the phone, though."
The new student, pseudonym Liv, smirked, "If you talked to my father on the phone, that would be strange," she said, remembering her childhood status as being: orphan, ward of the state, both parents deceased, no known living relatives.
"Pardon me?" The School Counselor looked up from her papers.
"Oh, I just mean to say that my, uh, father, is a bit strange. I guess all that flying around did something to his brain. You know, lack of oxygen and all that."
This garnered a disdainful over-the-glasses look from the Counselor. "I see." She glanced back at the papers on her desk and quickly searched for one in particular. Handing it over to the new student, she announced, "Well, let's get you into your classes, shall we?"
The day had gone as she expected, Barricade having intentionally put things into her file to annoy and frustrate her. Things like her given Decepticon name instead of the decided upon pseudonym--which caused her to create an altogether new name on the spot and spend the rest of the day correcting teachers with regards as to how she should be addressed. She made a mental note to show him her appreciation this evening. True to the cause, he had made sure she was in every class with the mark, a certain Samuel James Witwicky, and she was able to sit in the back of the various classes watching him. Sam, as he preferred to be called, was comfortably oblivious to all this.
This would be so easy, the boy was naive and trusting, not to mention completely focused on his budding romance with the the next mark, Mikaela Banes. The girl being more streetwise, might require an actual effort, however minor that may be. It would be necessary to eliminate both at once, to prevent alarming their guardian before an escape was possible. Unfortunately, the guardian was said to be obsessively protective. He may well have sensed the danger already.
Her musings were abruptly halted as a tall beefy jock, with a shock of blonde hair, stepped in her path. It was the classical school bully squad come to interrogate the newby. Live Wire was aware that her chosen hologram disguise was attractive, he may not want to pick a fight. She decided to remain aloof, straining against the temptation to put this interloper to shame in front of his peers. Looking up at him with a dismissive expression, she put her head down, shaking it lightly and moved to step around him.
"Hey, wait!" He made a grab at her left arm as she tried to pass. She stopped, again fighting the urge embarrass him, and looked up meeting his confident gaze. "You're new aren't you?" he asked softly. She studied him a moment debating her options, finally giving him a quiet nod. "I thought so," he went on, "I haven't seen you before, and I'd remember someone like you."
No doubt, she thought wryly, but said nothing.
"You know," he continued, mistaking her silence for shyness,"I'm going to the lake in a bit with some friends, maybe you'd like to join us? I'll let you ride with me!" She stifled a mocking laugh, letting herself smile instead, but his quick glance over her shoulder spoke volumes of his true intentions. Turning she saw Sam and Mikaela standing intimately close to each other just down the hall behind her. Mikaela's attention split between Sam and the scene that involved Live Wire at this moment. Of course, she realized, the jealousy card. I can't get involved in this, I need her trust to complete my mission!
Turning back to the jock, she pulled her arm out of his grasp and finally spoke, "Not interested."
"You sure? Do you know who I am?"
"Not my type, that's who."
"What?!" He cried in disbelief. This was fast becoming a scene; she needed to end it quickly.
"I don't do jocks. Not my thing," when he stared at her incredulously she meant to continue, but was interrupted by a voice behind her.
"Trent, leave her alone. Haven't you figured out yet that you are not God's gift to woman kind?" Mikaela had come to her rescue. This could be advantageous. Live Wire took a more aggressive stance with this new backing, folding her arms in front of her chest with a smirk.
Trent spluttered something about being popular and the hottest thing around, but Mikaela had already put an arm around the smaller Live Wire's shoulders drawing her away from the group of jocks back to where Sam was waiting. "Some of us were going to the strip mall to hang out. Want to come? I promise, Trent and his lackeys won't be there," she said with a friendly smile. "What do you say?"
Live Wire returned the smile just as warmly, "That.. sounds great! But..." she glanced down and to the right before returning her eyes to Mikaela, "I... kinda have to check in with... someone," she finished avoiding Mikaela's eyes in the end.
"Oh, parents," Sam chimed in.
"Uh.. yeah... just can't seem to shake those authority figures," she quipped wistfully.
"Another year and we will," he shot back.
Live Wire dropped her head a bit, "No, Sam," she said quietly staring at the floor,"There will always be someone to answer to." Looking up at him she saw the mildly surprised and confused look he gave her. "Well, I'd better get this over with. I'll meet you there?"
"We can wait," he said. "You can ride with us."
Mikaela grimaced and was about to remark about the back seat being small, but Live Wire cut her off, "No, no. I'll just walk. It'll be good to stretch my legs out after being cooped up inside all day. Honestly, I don't know how you kids do it!" The last comment drawing strange looks from both, she made it clear she would not be riding in the yellow camaro. What a disaster that would be. The scout would know something was off when her slim figure stepped into the vehicle and registered a contradictory 350 pounds. All those dense robotic parts were heavy.