This is my first fanfic. I've read quite a bit in my lifetime, and decided to try to write myself. I'd really appreciate some feedback on how this goes! 3
This is also a little overused plotline (not that you'll likely figure it out in this first post ;3) but it seemed like something I could handle, hopefully.
Set after the first movie, but saying more Autobots/Decepticons have landed on Earth. Like Sunstreaker. Why wasn't he in the movie? D /rants/
Looking in the mirror for a long minute, a depressed sigh escaped her full lips, before she averted her gaze elsewhere. Things needed to be picked up, tools cleaned, Mikey fed. The large, scruffy dog lounged lazily in the corner, the only place the sun didn't actually reach. Despite being early morning, the temperature had already reached the eighties, and the old, abandoned building had no means of heating and cooling. While hot summers were difficult, the frigid winters were nearly impossible. The hot rays beat down on her already sunburned skin as she moved about, grabbing the large bag of dog food and heaving it over to the bowl and pouring some inside. Immediately the Siberian Husky came over, panting to exert its heat, before happily diving into the meal. Lee smiled, scratching the pooch behind the ears before placing the food back where it belonged, and setting to work with exhausted movements.
Once again, the female had been out all night, leaving her makeshift home sometime around midnight and not returning until seven thirty that morning. It wasn't the first time, and it would not be the last. If she could help it, the teen would stay indoors at night, still possessing that hard fear of the type of people who prowled the streets at night—muggers, rapist, murders, the like. Of course, ever since Mission City's so called terrorist attack, there were other things she feared, and hopefully wouldn't ever have to come across again.
But, unfortunately, it was not something she could control. If she wanted to continue living, and not have the head of some small-time gang kill her, then she had to continue stealing cars. Even though the gang was small time, they were still deadly. She had witnessed them kill someone before. The rest of that evening was spent curled up and sobbing about what she had gotten herself into.
Lee cleaned the oil off her small wrench set, her mind trailing elsewhere. The place she had called home for the past seven years was an old, half a mile east of Mission City. It was old and rickety, bricks falling out of place, no window left intact—several boarded up, large, gaping holes in the structure and a holey roof. It was, originally, a two story building. One half of the second floor had collapsed, making a large concrete playground on the north side of the building, while on the south side, the second floor was still standing, the support beams as seemingly strong as the day they were built. All the furniture had been moved out, leaving nothing but what the redhead had moved in—an old mechanic's workbench she had lifted off an old gas station, a wooden chair, and various tools. She didn't live the most luxurious, easy life, but at least she was alive.
Unable to help herself, her eyes wandered back to the hanging, broken mirror that hung on the opposite wall. It was the only other thing she had, although detested looking in it, but never had the will to stop herself. Lee wasn't a tall girl, standing at exactly five feet, though sometimes she swore she was shrinking. Her hair was a dull red, the straight strands almost always tucked up in a gray dusty hat with the L.A. Laker's emblem on it, leaving a few strands down to frame her face. Lee had bright green eyes framed by thick lashes with delicate eyebrows above them, and full, soft lips to accompany her over all baby-faced appearance. Most of her now tanned skin—as the brim of the old hat protected her face from being sunburned—was smudged with light patches of dirt and dried oil, and when she had a chance, she'd visit the small stream five minutes away to clean herself up. Her frame was small, underweight considering she was homeless (although she would vehemently argue she had a home and there was nothing wrong with it) and broke 99.9% of the time, so food was another scarce thing in her life. Her skin was severely sunburned, peeling in some places, and bruised in others. Lee often looked like the title other people had given her: a street rat. She didn't have many articles of clothing, but what she did own was usually torn and wrinkled, stained with oil or other mechanical fluids, and she had no shoes.
As of recent, her physical appearance had gained another feature in the form of a tattoo. It wasn't one she had gotten by a professional (as that cost money, and money she did not have) but it seemed to just…grow naturally on her skin. This of course defied all the education she had from what little schooling completed in her lifetime. Markings on one's skin did not just grow into place. Especially ones as strange as these. Around her left eye seemed to be some sort of foreign symbols—definitely not English. They had an Japanese or Chinese appearance to them, but yet, were not the characters from their language either. The symbols looked like something someone just made up. But they curled around her left eye, crossing through the eyebrow , though not interrupting the hair growth there, and extended down the side of her face, stopping a few inches above her jaw line. She had similar markings on her right shoulder blade, and they extended down the right side of her back. That marking was much easier to forget about than the one on her face, which was the reason she stopped looking in the mirror so much.
Settling her clean tools back in the drawer, Lee let out a large yawn, before moving over to the place she slept—a small shelter created by a fallen slab of concrete. It probably wasn't the most secure place in the entire building, but at the same time, it was secure to her. It provided a shelter and a sense of safety. She curled up against another, much smaller piece of concrete, the dull edges of it against her side as she used her extra clothing as a sort of pillow, and it wasn't long before her faithful husky came to join her, curling against her side to provide some warmth, despite it being about eighty degrees outside. But she didn't push away the comfort, instead letting her eyes flitter closed as her lack of sleep caught up with her.
A snarl and a gunshot was what woke her, sometime later. Her body jerked as her eyes flew open, her delicate sleeping shattered in an instant. Listening closely, Lee realized her pooch was gone, and very possibly dead, no sound of his panting or otherwise meeting her ears. Remaining curled in her position, she didn't dare breathe, though a growing terror seemed to seize her heart and mind, making her stomach twist painfully. It was sunset, the lighting in the building a low orange hue and only grazing the tops of the fallen concrete. Soon, it would be dark. But that severed as no security now—whatever caused the gunshot, whoever pulled the trigger, could still be lurking, and could very well shoot her.
"Damn mutt," a voice muttered, seeming annoyed. Lee squeezed her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip softly. First thing first, don't panic. Living on the streets was a hard life, so she knew how to fight, and she had the street smarts for escaping and hiding. And, if needed, she could hijack a car, and get away. Her job entailed stealing cars, which entailed hotwiring. That was a skill she had been taught by one of the members of the small gang, which was also how she had become involved with them. Unfortunately, their leader than began thinking he owned her and her skill, and she somehow owed them. Lee wouldn't be surprised if a gang member was the cause of a gunshot.
"Oh, little Lee," a voice called, this one vaguely family. Her heart sank, knowing it was one of the men. This meant one of two things; the leader didn't need her, and put a hit on her, or the leader wanted to see her. Neither were good, and she calculated all the ways she could escape.
Sitting up, and uncurling in silence, she rationalize with herself, calming her nerves and crouching down, moving against the fallen concrete that made her little room. From the voices that spoke, she knew there were two of them—one she knew was a rather lanky man, no muscles to his body at all, and someone she could, maybe with some luck, knock out of the way. Despite being small, she knew how to use someone's size against them. However, the unknown man was something of a hindrance.
"Lee, come out, and we won't hurt you… much." Whenever someone was sent for her, they always roughed her up, and she still had bruises from the last time they visited uninvited.
Obviously, sitting there wasn't going to do her much good. They would either find her, or they would wait until she was supposed to come home. Heart beating a mile a minute, she edged out, trying to catch a glance at the other man, to analyze the appropriate action. She was not disappointed to see that the two men were of the same build—a lanky one at that—and that only one of them had a visible gun. And, as her green eyes glanced to the ground, she could indeed see the now bloodied carcass of her faithful friend, and her heart tightened in her chest, sorrow flooding her adrenaline filled veins. That dog was really the only companionship she had. Breaking her eyes away, she swallowed, shifting back inside the hole.
"She's not here, let's just come back later and leave this as a… present."
"Dude, she'd freak!" the other laughed, the sound of clapping echoing through the area, and Lee's heart wrenched, a sick feeling in her gut at how positively disgusting the grunts were. Disgusting and cruel. A new fear clawed at her heart, but at the same time, a little bit of hope nestled in too. Hope the two would leave.
Lee, when she was but twelve years old—a year spent living on the streets and almost dying several times by hungry, strange people and other natural forces—when she was found by one of the older members of the gang. He showed her a kindness the people of Mission City did not, by giving her small rations of food, and teaching her skills to fight. Jared was perhaps in his late thirties, and taught the young girl how to fight, how to hot wire cars, and when she was fifteen, he taught her everything he knew about mechanics, so not only could she steal cars (which she abandoned her moral reasoning against doing such a deed—if those people could drive such beautifully expensive cars, why couldn't they spare a little money for a starving child?) but she could dismantle them for parts, too. Unfortunately, Jared was killed in cold blood in front of her, and she's never been able to use her skills for herself since.
"I'm tempted to stay, just to see her reaction."
"She'll probably start sobbing—she's a girl, ain't she?" The two shared a laugh at Lee's expense, the girl hardly acknowledging it, though knowing she would not cry. Her heart was broken for her faithful companion, as Mikey had been with her since he was a pup, but she had shed too many tears over being heart broken, over loss, over fear and over her own sanity. It was nearly impossible for her to produce tears any more, and it was a factor she did not miss. Tears got you nowhere on the streets.
"Yeah, you're right. Let's get outta here. We can drop by later." Relief flooded her systems as she listened to the pair of feet leave the room.
Lee made a decision, one that needed to be made for a while now. She would leave her little safe haven—which was not exactly safe anymore—and flee to a new city, where she could not be bothered by the gang any long. It had been the greatest mistake of her life to get involved with them, and now she needed to get away. When Lee felt safe enough to move, she stepped out of the hole she was in, moving quickly to the door, but not glancing at the deceased dog, nor stepping in the pooling blood. This was too cruel a fate for him, but she could not change things, no matter how many times throughout her childhood she wished she could. Out in the still sinking sun, she looked around carefully, before moving towards the city. She had nothing inside the building worth taking with her—Mikey would have been worth it, but…
It took almost an hour to get there, her thoughts preoccupied with calming her emotional and physical state as she entered the city's limits, the sun completely gone now and the streets lit by well-spaced street lamps. Her eyes flickered around constantly, something that she did subconsciously, looking for anyone out this late, or any sort of transportation she could steal. Lee had come to terms with herself long ago—she was a criminal, yes, as hijacking vehicles was illegal. But she still had morals, was still ethical. It wasn't like she was stealing cars with children in them, or using the cars to rundown civilians on the sidewalks. They were given to chop shops, and then she was given money (which was almost immediately taken by the gang lord). She had never done anything else in her life worthy of jail time, but she was still a criminal. A very scrawny, filthy and half-starved criminal with odd tattoos.
Turning onto another street, her eyes caught the dancing neon lights of some sort of club. Her eyes lit up, knowing there were probably cars around back, but she just had to be careful should someone come stumbling out. Bare feet trotting against concrete, the young girl crept like a ninja to the back of the lot, carefully avoiding the bouncer at the door, and the few people who were still lined up to get inside. Finding the parking lot, she browsed her choices. The first thing she saw was a large black Topkick. However, as she neared it, a small burning sensation grew in the markings on her face, and she let out a very low hiss of discomfort, lifting her hand to her left cheek, the tips of her fingers running over the marked skin softly. It didn't soothe the burn, and had she not had other priorities, she would have thought long and hard about it. But as it was, she was already working on a time limit before any of the gang members starting searching the city for her in realization she was not going back to her home. She walked around the Topkick, letting the hand that had caressed her cheek fall back to her side.
"I wouldn't be able to see over the damn steering wheel," she muttered, almost regretfully. It would be nice to have a large vehicle—usually she stole and drove smaller, more luxurious types. She softly patted the hood of it, cautious of the alarm that was no doubt in place. "Too bad." Her eyes moved onwards as she maneuvered the parking lot, looking over a number of different cars. She wanted something normal—not something obnoxiously expensive. She didn't need to attract attention.
However, her attention was suddenly captured by a bright yellow vehicle, parked a few spaces down from the Topkick. She wandered over, seemingly mesmerized by the color. A bright yellow, with duel black racing stripes was the Camaro's decal, and if anything, Lee was a sucker for a custom paint job. She let her eyes roam over its frame work, but had no intentions of stealing it. She'd be able to see over the steering wheel, but it'd still turn too many heads.
"What're you doing?" The redhead jumped eyes widening as she swirled around so fast she tripped over her heels and fell back against the yellow Camaro, the back of her thoughts surprised she did not set off the vehicles alarm. Immediately she removed herself from it, green eyes locating the three men who now stood at the hood of the car, while she had been inspecting the back of it. Never before had she been caught while she was browsing for the next vehicle to steal. And very rarely did she actually speak with someone in the city—they were normally warded off by her offending condition of being homeless and a street rat. But no doubt, one of the men was the owner of the car, and perhaps couldn't really see her ratty appearance given the lack of lighting in the parking lot. Swallowing what seemed like a ball of fear, she analyzed the situation. Two of the guys looked fresh out of their teen years, and despite the lack of lighting, she could tell one had medium length blonde hair that reached his shoulders, while the other had shorter, scruffier brunette, perhaps even black hair. Neither were particularly buff—but they weren't lanky either. They looked like they ate well, and deep inside Lee was a little jealous. She always was, when she came into the city. The other man, however, he looked… like someone she did not want to pick a fight with. Just the way he stood, hands folded neatly behind his back, broad chest forward, told her that he was a confident man who no doubt knew how to fight. Regardless of how intimidating he was, the odds were still in their favor—there were three of them, and only her.
"I, um," her voice was cracked and nervous, despite her trying to control it. She had never been in this situation before. "I was just… admiring your car." Yeah, that's it, she thought to herself, although didn't remember thinking of the excuse before saying it. "A 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, right?" Giving a cheeky grin, she pummeled down the nervousness that was threatening to make her shake and stutter—which weren't foreign reactions to her. Right before hotwiring a car she got like that, and apparently in the presence of other people.
She received suspicious glances from the three men, and that was when she decided she needed to get out of there. Perhaps her knowledge of the car's model hurt her, rather than saved her. Ever so subtly, she backed up a step. Lee was fast—aside from her mechanical skills, that was the only thing she had to rely on. Her legs were probably longer than any other part of her, and her calloused feet aided her quite well when it came to fleeing. And she didn't like calling it fleeing, as she didn't like being called a coward; she preferred to think of it as a tactical retreat.
Unfortunately, the movement was noticed by the broader, older man, and no doubt interpreted as a means to run. He moved forward with a speed that Lee hadn't predicted, but she moved quicker, turning and fleeing now, a small chirp of surprise escaping her lips as she weaved behind the vehicles. A small glance over her shoulder revealed not only was the broader man chasing her—and yelling for her to stop immediately—but so were the other two, only they weren't between the parking spaces like herself and the man, but rather on the other side. A huge charge of fear shredded her nervous system, adrenaline pouring fast into her veins and in large amounts as she pushed her bare feet harder against the concrete, blocking out the pain from anything she may have stepped on, and begging any and all superior and godly beings that she could escape.
Taking a sharp turn, she slipped between a pair of Lamborghini's, her thoughts too occupied to admire the pretty cars. However, it seemed that godly being had it out for her, as the red Lamborghini's driver side door open suddenly, and her small frame crashed into it like a brick against a wall. Lee tumbled to the ground, a small displeasured noise rupturing through her lips as a dulling pain spread through her body, and the burning in the tattoos on her face continued.
Knowing she had but seconds before the man caught up, she sprang to her feet eyes widening as she realized there was not one, but two men standing on the other side of the door. Panic and fear rippling through her like a tidal wave, she spun on her heels, throwing herself up on the hood of the red Lamborghini and crossing it, oblivious to the shouts of displeasure coming from one of the men, before she took off again, narrowly escaping the incoming tackle from the broad man.
Running like she had never ran in her life, the end of the parking lot, and what awaited her, made her eyes widen and her blood run cold. A wall. A solid, cement made wall. It was too tall—or maybe her too short, she couldn't tell—for her to jump it without climbing something. And as she reached the end, her feet burning from the near skidding stop she made, she looked frantically for some sort of way over, or an opening. She spotted a dumpster, across the way, and immediately heading for it. Using the old Volkswagen, she climbed on its hood, before onto the top—pointedly ignoring the alarm—before jumping to the lid of the dumpster, and vaulting over the wall using her hands. Unfortunately, she hadn't planned on the landing, landing on her feet only to fall forward on her hands and knees, a sharp pain searing the offended areas. Whimpering, she stood up, before continuing to run, not bothering to look back or really hearing what the voices had called after her.
Lee didn't stop running until she was almost seven blocks away, panting hard for her oxygen starved lungs and pain in numerous parts of her body, mostly the bottom of her feet, kneecaps, and hands, where she landed after jumping the wall. Her mouth was dry, and she was tired and hungry. The only good thing was she had escaped the men who had been chasing her, and the burning in the symbols on her face had subsided. Stepping into the opening of a small alley, she leaned against the wall before sliding down, her legs against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them and her forehead resting against her knees.
What a night this was turning out to be. First, her beloved dog was killed, and she made the decision to better her life and flee the gang. Then, while trying to steal a car—something she had done umpteen times—she was caught, confronted, and then chased through the parking lot.
Quiet enveloped the night as her breathing called, and after sitting in the fetal position for longer than necessary, Lee finally lifted her head, dead set on going about her plans. If she let what happen moments ago deter her, she'd be stuck in Mission City, and no doubt the gang would find her. Climbing to her feet, she glanced out of the alley way, searching for any sign of people. Upon not discovering any, she moved, pain pinging her feet with every step, though she tried to block it out. She couldn't let the pain get to her. Not now.
There you go! First chapter!
Again, I'd really, really appreciate some feedback. Should I continue this? Not quit my day job? Give up on all hope of being an author here on fanfic?
I was thinking for the next chapter, perhaps doing something small-like from Ironhide or Bumblebee's point of view; or even one of the twins. idk.
What do you guys think? c:
