A/N
One-shot. Pointless. Just a little idea that's been on my mind.
Beauty
Why should I care what humans think of themselves? As a Decepticon, especially one of such beauty and standard, why should I care what humans think about themselves or how they treat themselves? After all, I would gladly tear one of those skin jobs up if they so much as breath of my finish but I wouldn't give a second thought if they did such to one another. Then why do I care about one insignificant human out of anyone on this rustic planet? Why should I care?
I meant the little protoform during one of my drives. The roads were rough, hardly paved, and forced dust into my drive. I hated the stench, the fumes, the pure horridness of the little pit but I needed to make a stop and scan for…whatever it was I supposed to look for. I hardly care sometimes. Even so, I found myself parked in some worn down lot complete with the broken fences and random puddles of Primus knows what. I sat there until dusk, watching humans walk to and fro, all completely forgettable.
Late into the night, a group of men marched by. They stopped by one of the fences, talking and smoking. Don't ask me how humans smoke but it isn't natural for Cybertronians so I doubt its natural for organic matters too. The little protoform walked by, head lowered, hands in her pockets. The men stopped her. I heard hushed voices become stronger and eventually they dragged her into my lot. As I said before though, why should I care what humans do?
They threw her against my hood, is why I started caring. They threw her against my hood, pulling her hood back. If I had to say this, and no one is allowed to quote me here, but this little human was quite something. Fair skinned, soft lips, large eyes. Quite the femme. Her pale skin soon became wet as she began to sob. The men laughed. They put a greasy hand on my hood. I didn't care much for what they were planning to do to the human child but as soon as they touched me with their filthy mitts I was done.
I transformed, throwing the human girl off me. The men gasped, running off before I was even done changing into robot form. The protoform peered up at me, eyes watering. Humans. I rolled my optics, motioning for her to run off as the others did. I wasn't in the mood to play around, especially when I had some polishing to do to get the smudge marks off. The little girl sat up, eyes wide.
"You look nice…" she whispered.
"Nice?" I gasped. I prefer the term…well, anything but nice. Good would even be more acceptable.
"You're beautiful," she corrected, lowering her head.
"So are you," I found myself saying. How very Autobot of me.
I saw her cheeks burn red. I'm not sure what that means for organics. I rolled my optics again, crossing my arms. I should've just left. Why didn't I? The girl slowly got to her feet, lifting her head to peer up at me again.
"Do you have a name?" she mumbled.
"Knock out," I purred, hand pressed to my spark. I was getting an odd sense of pride.
"Hi."
I peered down at her. She looked around wearily before turning back toward me. I sighed, transforming. Enough of this, I needed to work or at least go find some racing to thrill my circuits. The human stepped back, watching my image change. My headlights flashed on, illuminating her. Soft skin, short hair, weak expression. Why should I care?
"You don't really mean it, do you?" she mentioned.
"What?" I snapped, getting aggravated by my own kindness.
"That I was pretty," she nodded.
"You're a finer looking human than those filthy forms that dared lay their hands on my hood!" I shouted.
She stepped back. I honked my horn. I was hating my own guts for speaking to this human. She stepped aside, then she ran. I saw her form disappear into the night. I should've stopped caring right after that. I should've forgotten about her, but I didn't. Instead, her image nagged me in the back of my mind until I went back into town. I didn't find her. I found an image of her on the local paper.
I revved my engine, taking off. I haven't been back to that little town. I don't care much to think of that little human either. I know her name now though. I know her story. I shouldn't though. I don't want to know. I just couldn't get her little face out of my processor. I can't get that local paper out of my processor. Deceased. How? The next morning. Found dead. Even on Cybertron such an act was considered sad and wrong. To do such a thing…to take…can't stop thinking about it.
Can't help but think of what I should've said. If I could've changed the outcome, if an Autobot could've changed the outcome. In the end, though, I got to see something beautiful.