Author's Note: Takes place in an AU timeline 2 years after the events of DOTM. For this story, the Autobots disappeared without a trace and never arrived to stop the Decepticon invasion. I've also altered the DOTM story somewhat so that the space bridge pillars merely opened up a portal for the decepticon army to come through en masse. Because really? Bringing a another PLANET into earth's orbit would probably send us careening into the sun or something else equally cataclysmic.
My other story, 'This is how the world ends', is a kinda-sorta prequel to this story. You don't have to read it, but it provides a good sense of the setting in which this story takes place.
And don't worry- all your favorite cannon characters will eventually show their ugly mugs.
Set Fire to the Rain
Chapter 1: 100287-5D
It was almost amusing how quickly history came to be separated into two distinct eras: Before Invasion and After Invasion.
Before Invasion was taxis zipping through the city streets, the weatherman coming on at 8 after the evening news, family calling about the weekend barbeque, deadlines at work, grocery shopping, long hot showers, coffee. Freedom.
After Invasion was alien ships prowling between the skyscrapers, daily messages delivered by a sharp robotic voice, check points, labor schedules, gray jumpsuits, lumpy bunkbeds, ever-watching red eyes. Slavery.
But no one in the work camps dared to complain about the tepid water used for bathing or the tasteless, lumpy food that left you full but unsatisfied. The complainers were always given the most grueling or mind-numbing tasks. Those who shut up and kept their heads down had a chance to be moved up to better conditions if they did a good job. There were rumors that the humans who made themselves invaluable to the alien invaders lived in luxury—real food, real clothes, real beds. But most importantly, it was said, they had Names. Real names, not a string of numbers barked out every morning by the overseer when it was your turn to be scanned.
Names were everything in the After. If you had a name, you existed.
Picking up a tray and stepping into the morning food line, Alexis chanted her personal mantra inside her head.
I am Alexis Andrea Payton. I am 22 years old, and I am a person.
When she reached the front of the line, she held out her tray under the food dispenser.
"100287-5D" She recited her designation quietly. The dispenser pinged, registering her number in the morning ration log, and dutifully plopped something that might have been oatmeal into her bowl and filled her glass with water.
I am Alexis Andrea Payton. I am 22 years old, and I am a person.
Turning away, her eyes scanned the mess hall for someplace to sit. Pale light streamed in through the windows set high into the concrete walls, giving the expansive room a pale blue glow. Humans sat clustered in groups at the tables, quietly talking amongst themselves. Every so often they would dart covert glances at the alien sentries standing guard before the doors, as if fearing that the black metal monoliths—much smaller than some of the other invaders, but still cresting 8 feet tall—were secretly listening in on their conversations. But Alexis knew that unless someone tried to leave before the morning meal time was over, the robots would remain exactly where they were, as still as stone, completely disinterested in the babbling of the pale, squishy life forms around them.
I am Alexis Andrea Payton. I am 22 years old, and I am a person.
A hand lifted in the crowd and waved at her, catching her attention. The familiar face of Michael, one of her shift mates, grinned back at her as she started to move in his direction.
"Hey there, girly girl. How you like the smell of the gruel this morning?" He asked cheerfully as she approached, scooting over on the bench to make room for her. Michael had always been something of an enigma to Alexis, ever since she had first heard him whistling while wiring a panel. How anyone could find the repetitive task of connecting the same few wires in hundreds of separate panels worth whistling about remained a mystery to her. When she had asked, he merely replied that wiring panels beat the hell out of hauling heavy equipment.
"Smells like carrots," She replied, sliding in beside him. "Bet you two tokens that they just got in a big shipment of carrots from one of the farms."
Michael made a gagging sound, dipping his spoon into the goopy mess and holding it up for inspection. It made a rather unpleasant plopping sound as it dripped slowly back into the bowl.
"Carrots for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Be still my beating heart."
Stealing herself, Alexis shoveled a bite into her mouth. It was sticky and rather tasteless, but it went down easily enough, so she dipped her spoon back in for another bite.
"Hey, better carrots than radishes."
Michael groaned theatrically at the reminder of the week-long radish buffet that had made even the staunchest of stomachs rebel.
"If I never have to eat another radish again, it will be too soon. Although seeing Georgia bazooka barf all over that sentry really made my week."
Alexis hid a grin, glancing at one of the silent black robots by the door. No one was allowed to leave without finishing what they were given, and poor Georgia had had the bad luck of picking up a mild stomach bug during what was unofficially dubbed Radish Week. She had tried to slip out without finishing her bowl, and the sentry made her stop and choke it down right there. A terrible shame, really, since it came right back up again all over the robot's armor. Everyone had fearfully held their breath, thinking that they were going to see sweet little Georgia killed right there, but then the robot had broken out in the most creative swearing tantrum she had ever seen, incorporating almost every language she had ever heard, and stomped off shrieking without laying a finger on Georgia.
"Wonder if we'll get a repeat performance," He mused, glancing around at the huddled humans in their gray uniforms, obviously trying to pick out those with weak digestive systems.
Alexis shook her head. "Not going to happen. They've started sending anyone who pings for viruses to the medic."
"Damn."
"I'm sure you'll find some other way to entertain yourself."
"You know me," he shrugged.
Conversation petered out after that as they both set to forcing down the contents for their bowls. There wasn't really much to talk about anymore, and even then discussion tended to center around covert gambling over tokens or the latest lovebird trying to sneak into the female dorm after curfew. Family was a particularly taboo subject—no one wanted to be reminded of the children that had been taken to a separate work camp in another part of the city, or of the relatives outside Chicago who may or may not have been reduced to ash during the invasion. The only times the meal hall practically boiled over with whispered conversations was when the menacing alien flag ship was spotted nearby. Every so often a robot from one of the higher castes—the Officers, Alexis liked to think of them—would stop by to check in with the sentries and inspect the human stock. Once even Lord Megatron himself had come to the facility, and several humans had disappeared with him and his officers into the large rumbling ship. No one knew what had happened to them, and no one wanted to find out by being one of the ones taken if he came back.
A familiar buzzing sound filled the meal hall to signal the end of the morning meal, and Alexis quickly choked down the rest of her carrot mash before standing with her tray. Michael winked at her as he stood, playfully bumping his hip into hers.
"Time for another fantastic day of wiring panels, partner!"
"I can scarcely contain my joy."
"That's the spirit!" He clapped her on the shoulder with one hand before moving off, whistling.
As she had done every morning for the past two years, Alexis deposited her tray in the container at the back of the meal hall, then made her way through the double doors with everyone else. In the empty, cavernous concrete room beyond, everyone lined up to receive their assignments for the day. As a 5D rank, Alexis moved towards the back of the room where the other 5D humans stood. The majority of the slaves housed at the facility were D's. As D's, they were assigned menial, repetitive tasks that involved minimal thinking, but luckily were exempt from the back-breaking labor given to the E's at other work camps. 5's were given the smallest, most dirty tasks of all the D's, the importance of the task increasing as their number moved towards 1. C's had access to equipment that wasn't as easily replaced, and their assignments tended to be more mentally engaging. They also received three tokens instead of one at the end of the week, which they could then trade for small items like bits of chocolate or additional blankets. And, most importantly, they had one day off a week—a 'reward' for their loyalty, the aliens said.
B's were even higher up the food chain then C's, and it was rumored that their facilities were much nicer. There were only three B's at Alexis' work camp, and they could frequently be seen talking with the alien overseers. Their uniforms were soft and colored, unlike the shapeless, itchy gray clothes given to the lower ranks, and were tailored to their forms. All of them had devices similar to blue tooth head sets in their ears.
Alexis had only ever once seen an A during her time at the work camp. She had been working inside of one of the newly constructed buildings going up in the heart of Chicago—a towering spire of burnished metal that gleamed like a knife blade in the sun—and had gone back outside to retrieve some supplies. Standing some distance was an Officer, almost 25 feet tall, examining a holographic blueprint projected by a device in his clawed hand. And sitting on his shoulder, talking animatedly, was a sandy-haired man only a little bit older than her. His uniform was exquisitely cut and tailored, accented with decorative metal designs. The deep purple and black coloration matched the Officer's armor. As she watched, he had turned to the alien and smiled.
The line dwindled in front of her as her fellow humans received their assignments for the day. When it was her turn, Alexis stepped up and docilely submitted to the scanning beam that the sentry ran down her body. The device in the alien's hand pinged upon receiving the information from the chip imbedded beneath her left shoulder blade.
"Number." The metallic voice demanded.
"100287-5D," Alexis recited, although she knew that her number was logged in the chip buried in her flesh.
I am Alexis Andrea Payton. I am 22 years old, and I am a person.
The robot tapped the device with one long, hooked finger.
"Building Zeta, electrical installation."
Ah, more panel wiring. Another riveting day.
She started to move towards the convoy that would take her to the outskirts of Chicago and building Zeta, but an unfamiliar voice halted her in her tracks.
"100287-5D!"
Alexis froze. That wasn't the flat, emotionless voice of one of the faceless sentries. Icy spiders of dread scuttling down her spine, she stopped and turned.
A dark blue Officer who had somehow arrived unnoticed moved swiftly towards her, flanked by two sentries. An icy sweat broke out over her body at the sight. Trying to control the frantic hammering of her heart, she furiously reviewed the past few days in her mind, searching for something she might have done to get herself noticed by an Officer. Being noticed was generally considered a Very Bad Thing. Those who were noticed either disappeared or ended up greasy smears on the floor. She sometimes wondered if the two outcomes were the same.
The Officer stopped in front of her, and at some unseen signal the sentries moved forward to flank her. Alexis pressed her hands into her thighs to keep them from trembling. She craned her neck to look up at the glowing red visor peering down at her, trying very hard not to let her gaze linger on the cannons attached to its forearms. She knew all too well how easy they turned flesh and bone into red mist.
"100287-5D," The Officer repeated, voice a low, gravely bass, "You have been reassigned. Come with me."
Without another word he turned and strode towards the large doors set into one wall. The sentries pressed her forward, forcing her to follow. She glanced around as she crossed the concrete floor. Every human eye was fixed on her—some in fear, some in astonishment. And some in rage.
A hand suddenly flashed out and gripped hers momentarily as she passed. Michael.
Good luck, he mouthed. Alexis tried to smile, then stopped when she felt her teeth start to clack. His hand slipped from hers as she moved forward.
I am Alexis Andrea Payton. I am 22 years old, and I am a person.
The impersonal spotlight of the sun washed over her in a cold baptism as she stepped outside. The air was filled with rumbling of engines and the steady, pulsing hum of the tentacled ships overhead. Suddenly two images flashed into her mind, innocently lined up side-by-side. One showed her with a small laser hole through her forehead, being picked up by one of the cleaning drone and dumped into a sterile container. The other was of her dressed in a soft tailored uniform, a sleek headset in her ear, sitting on a robotic shoulder and smiling.
I am Alexis Andrea Payton. I am 22 years old, and I am a person.
And I would rather die than sit on a metal shoulder and smile.