Starting Time: 9:00PM
The teen mumbled to herself as she packed her survival bag within the barracks. She would spit a curse to her stupidity as she would check the clips, or shove in another item into her pack, or just plain think about the idiotic assignment she put upon herself to accomplish.
Survive until morning, she thought, it's impossible. I'm the biggest idiot this side of the planet, going up against a bone yard of killer robot victims and most likely run into him altogether.
Perhaps the officers knew that this Decepticon was there, since they never alerted her of his location. Was he near Decepticon's Ridge, or was he off somewhere else like the junkies mentioned? Maybe he was still hanging around Portman's Rock? God, she didn't even know what she agreed to. Maybe this was all just a ploy to get her out of the picture. Yes, maybe those officials want a clean, hands-free way of getting the kid off their hands and not be blamed for her death. The only thing they would be charged with is letting her go out alone in the first place. Still, it seemed intrudingly unfair.
Annabelle sat down a moment, flopping back atop her makeshift cot. It squeaked under her weight, and she let out a sigh. She stared up at the cracked and plaster-tiled ceiling for what seemed like the longest minute in eternity. Something bumped her hand, and she glanced down to see the piece of alien armor. Picking it up and hovering it over her face, Annabelle admired the continuously strange object, mesmerized that pretty soon she may face the owner of this armor fragment. She groaned, and shoved the piece in her pocket with distaste. Standing up again, Annabelle slipped on her dark cameo bullet-proof vest and black scouting uniform. She swung the pack over her shoulder, her M-40 on the other, and slid her knife and pistol into their appropriate holsters.
She turned as she was shoving on her goggles and hood over her head, and stopped seeing Sorval and the junkies standing in the doorway, watching her with mixed emotions.
Annabelle sighed, and checked her mapping as a way to not face them. "If you guys are here to make me bail out of this, forget it. I agreed to do it myself, so I'll face the consequence."
"Sure." Said Low-Ry. "That is since the consequence involves ya getting killed in the end."
"Don't do this, kid." Ben warned. "I've seen this 'Con before, and he ain't gonna be an easy one to run from. He'll have you stomped under his big metal foot in a heartbeat. Faster then you could even scream."
"I don't care." She replied evenly.
Garret stepped forward. "Well you should, kid." he lectured harshly. "Kids like you shouldn't be off doing stupid stuff like this. Not even the heavy battle buffs would do this mission."
"Well glad to make them feel like even bigger idiots."
"Do you not hear us, kid?" he exclaimed. "Pull out of this while you still can!"
She whipped around to glare at him, nose to nose. "I'm going, and none of you are stopping me."
"And I'm going to tell you that you're not going."
"What, all of a sudden you're my dad now?" she growled. "Well do me a favor and knock it off with the fatherly shit."
"If your dad was here seeing this he would tell you the same thing we are." Ben piped in for his partner's support.
"My father wouldn't give a damn." She hissed, her gaze firing between them. "He never gave a damn. He didn't when I came home crying from a bully at school, he wasn't there when I suffered though a few hardass boyfriends, he was never there since my sixth fucking birthday. And he didn't care one bit, as I sat crying on my knees in the doorway as he drove off and left us behind, and have his seven year old daughter with a distraught mom to fend for herself!"
None of them said anything. They just stared with soft emotion.
Annabelle's head was down, looking back at the painful memories, her voice lost and quiet. "And…just left her. So she always kept wondering…what she did wrong. Why he would just leave like that, and never come back or hear from again…" she paused, her eyes watering. "Was it something I did, could I have done something different to make him stay?" She looked away at the wall, and shook her head slow. "No. No there wasn't any other way. He simply didn't care..."
Garret was silent. "Kid…" he sighed. "…this isn't a way either. Doing this won't make him come back to you. I'm, well, we are trying to protect you. Everyone here's trying to protect you…mostly from yourself. I may not be your dad, kid…but if I have to act like one to keep you thinking straight then so be it."
Annabelle was silent, and then her scowl returned. "Then let me go…dad."
He was dumbfounded, and slightly desperate. "Annabelle, wi-"
"Go on, leave me alone! I don't want to see you guys anymore! Go, alright!" she shouted, and shoved past them. Not even Sorval held her back, just watching her storm off with emotion swirling in his gaze.
"One of us has gotta go after her." Ben said. "She'll get killed."
Garret came back along side them, watching the teen march outside. "If that Megatron is still alive, and tried to stop him ourselves…she will be."
-X-
As Annabelle stood outside the gate, she checked her watch. 9:12 it read. Not the best way to start an all-night scout, but it is well enough time to head out and prove her stuff.
Looking back at the gate just as it shut closed, she sighs deep and long. She ignores the few shouts of guards at the gate patrol, saying and making bets that she'll die in all the ways imaginable once she finds the Decepticon. However that was the main ideal to avoid: finding him. As long as she avoided the alien's tracks all together, then she would return without so much as a twig in her hair.
The hike was long, and every little pound in her pack seemed to slow her every inch of the trek. The dirt and dusty gravel crushed and rolled beneath every step beneath her boots. Keeping a decent measure of safety, she stayed along the road until it parted nearly three miles from the outpost.
A huff escaped her, pondering which way to turn. The Decepticon could be waiting somewhere down either path, just waiting to splat her into juicy human chunky salsa. The picket sheet metal signpost was of no help. Neither end said Decepticon's Ridge or Portman's Rock. She assumed this was a warning sign for the locals of the various wildlife, and was of no use to her except for cover from weapons fire. Sighing once more, looking down either trail, she turned left toward Mount Kilimanjaro.
The forest of twisted trees and dried shrubbery began to thin out the further she went, now spreading out into open grassland and dirt mounds. It was nearly eight more miles before the trail finally disappeared into nothing but thick savannah. Annabelle groaned, and checked her map and watch. The map was no help, just alerting her once again that it was not any readable location. The watch blandly read 10:33, not even halfway through the night yet.
What if she turned back? This place was a dead end, so perhaps if she went down the other path back toward the fork. Well, she would have to report something or other, and perhaps scanning new location would be enough for a little sense of praise when she returned.
Or if she returned.
She kicked at a small stone, and with a shifting of the pack on her shoulders, Annabelle pressed on into the untamed grassland.
-X-
The earth's star has set once more, for the three-hundredth and eighty-seventh time.
Yes, I have been counting every day and night since my run from Sentinel's death, every day of my new life of hiding amongst this dirtball of a planet.
I hiss as I look over myself. This worthless earth vehicle mode I obtained shone for the first time what I truly was within. By claws are still covered with the human bodily fluids of those foolish insects who dared to give away my existence. The smell and sight of flesh blood on me is disgusting, yet I never bothered to rid any of it. This cloth drawn over my helm is the only crown I shall ever gain in my useless life, hiding my face in shame.
I lie here in this Primus-forsaken dead land, my little excuse of a base sitting in the middle of nowhere. Yet solitude is the one thing keeping me alive, so I shall remain here, out of sight and detection.
Only two hatchlings remain, weak but have pulled though the worst. Sustenance for them has grown slim, and without Energon they will surely perish within another earth month. Death will come for them soon, but not tonight.
Igor hasn't talked in months, which is much more of a relief then any. He will die soon as well, but I admit I won't miss that pitiful nuisance.
Misery…that is the one thing I have felt the year I've been hiding in the shadows. The thought of dread, the pain I suffer more everyday, only the thoughts of death are slowly killing me. I crave to rid of my pain, but death I fear. I know what is to come. No, I will live…I will live.
I growl deeply as I shift to sit up, my joints creaking and squealing in stress and agony. My head burns constantly, the wound on my right side never repaired and only getting increasingly worse. Nothing and no one could repair me now, I refuse it. The elements add to my torture. My cloth hood only covers my wounds, but will never heal them. Every day and every night, I feel more of me leaving this beaten shell of a body.
It won't be long now…
…
A familiar scent is carried on the wind…
HUMAN.
I stand as fast as my body will allow, and growl out to cause the ground to quake beneath me. My cannon appears from the subspace within my arm, and I clench my claws as I narrow my gaze out into the distance. They will not escape my sights, no; they shall not escape from my wrath.
…
…
…
Something runs off to the east of my sights. I snarl.
The insect tries to hide from me. How intriguing. It shall make it more interesting.
I take aim toward his position, and I can see the camouflaged human glaring back with puny weapon aimed back. I grin my fangs, grinding them with growing tension. I shall take my time with this one.
He does not fire, only stares back in defiance.
…he comes to mock me.
I growl, and fire a shot a few meters from his position. Just a warning shot, and he will repent.
He doesn't. He didn't even flinch.
I frown, and rumble deep from my chest.
Something's not right.
He fires his weapon, but not at me, but skyward. It bursts a bright red light in the air. It was a warning beacon.
I roar out, and charge. I ignore the horrendous pain shooting through my systems, and focus only on the act of crushing this insect.
A blast of pain strikes me in the back, and I cry out in a roar. I stagger to a knee, and glare behind me.
There is nothing there, but the hatchlings are calling out in distress. Igor is blabbering again, hastily.
There is a flash in the distance, and a projectile vanishes briefly in the dark sky.
I snarl, and push to my feet and stagger to the side just enough to avoid another shot. The blast alters my vision only for a moment, but pain fires up my leg.
I'm crippled, so I begin to drag myself away while firing back for cover. Primus why must I be so weak, and die so pathetically? Die by the hands of a few tiny humans?
Another shot strikes my shoulder, and it forcefully flips me onto my back. I roar again in agony and rage.
They're toying with me.
Just like I have done to my enemies for so many millennia.
I try to stand, but my body refuses.
There is the sound of fleeing human footfalls, and the weapon driving away.
I understand now…
They did not come to kill me…but to have me die slowly in suffering.
The humans left me alone to die.
The hatchlings are still crying out, and Igor is as well. Their sounds seem distant.
Well, there's no use fighting it…
I offline my optics.
I felt it was not the night…but once again, I am proved wrong.
-X-
Annabelle heard the missile fire miles off, and the unearthly roars that sent shivers up her spine. She started in a jog, but once the noises grew to a near deafening tone, she began to sprint. Staggering once or twice with the weight on her back, but nothing stopped her as she broke a trail though the waist-high grass.
Up ahead, someone raced past her. She nearly slams into him, and he stares back as he catches his breath.
"What happened, you ok?" Annabelle asked, worried. "I heard gunfire, what's happened?"
The man dropped his mask, and it was a local that she saw in town when she landed at the airport. He shakes his flare-gun with glory. "We got him, that's what happened. We got the bastard!"
"Who, the Decepticon?" she could hardly believe it.
He nodded hastily and proud, grinning. "You bet! Gave him a taste of his own medicine, we did!"
"Wait, are you sure he's dead? What if he gets back up?" Annabelle wondered.
"Oh no worries, kid." The local assured while waving a hand, dismissive. "For how weak he was to begin with, he ain't getting up this time."
Annabelle was dumbstruck. The Decepticon was actually dead, they finally got him! She had nothing to worry about now, just cruise around until morning. It was too good to be true.
Yet, the haunting thought dwindled. There could still be the possibility of him getting back up, and more hell-bent then ever before. That's the last thing anyone needed around here. She had to make sure he was dead and gone, to prove to herself and the members of Outpost 85.
"Where is he?" she demanded.
"Geez, you sure do ask a lot of questions, don't you?" the man chuckled, and then nodded his head back toward the mountain. "About four miles that way, can't miss him. Why, gonna tag em and bag em?' he smirked.
"Maybe, but I have other ideas too. Why didn't you bag him yourself?"
"Gotta report to the boss first." He explained. "No worries, he'll still be there tomorrow."
"Cool enough, but I'll go see for myself." Annabelle replied, and nodded before running said way. "Thanks, dude."
"No problem!" he called back as she ran off. "And if you nab some of his armor, sell some extra for me, will ya?'
She just waved a hand over her shoulder as she went in reply, and hopped down a slope out of sight.
-X-
The land grew vaster with grass hills and soil mounds among the few dried, twisting trees, and the moon hanging above lit the landscape with a milky glow. But something was unnatural about the place, Annabelle noticed.
It seemed far too quiet.
When she first began her scouting journey, there was the chirping of crickets and hooting of birds overhead. None of that was heard now, only the eerily soft gusts of wind that made the grass whip around the teen as she trekked on.
The sound of groaning metal made her gasp, and the teen picked up pace. She rounded a cluster of twisted foliage, and darted back behind seeing a shape nearly twenty yards out. Eyes wide and alert, she peered back around, and watched for movement.
The metal beast was on its back, eyes dark and still. It looked humanoid in design, but nearly forty foot by her estimate, and had features that were all but human. Definitely alien in shape, with bloody claws and sections of its frame formed its armor into a large military vehicle of sorts, but Annabelle couldn't tell what kind from this distance. The torn, sharply edged head was partially covered by a brown cloth of sorts, mangled but without a doubt a shrouding hood. The creature was certainly vicious looking, and based on the blood it had killed plenty of humans. Yes, it was the Decepticon everyone had told of, without a doubt.
Annabelle couldn't move for the longest time, denying herself to approach. But, she thought to herself, she had to know for certain he was dead. Staring from a distance wasn't going to be enough. She had to get closer.
Swallowing hard, she slid the rifle into firing position, and with a deep, controlled breath, walked into the open.
The Decepticon still hadn't shown signs of movement, and she took another few steps, crouching. Still no movement. She sighed again, and holding her breath she hurried up silently beside it. The girl was about ten feet from the alien now, before she remembered to breathe again.
Carefully bending down, her eyes never leaving the robot's form, she picked up a small stone. With gun perched on her knee, she tossed the stone, and aimed swiftly up toward the alien as it landed on his face. Her breathing quickened, but then frowned when he still didn't move.
It must be safe now, she thought. If he was still alive he would have acted long before she got this close. Slinging the rifle back on her shoulder, Annabelle dropped the backpack on the ground before inching closer.
The robot's armor gleamed dim and dull in the moonlight, among the gray and drab colors of his armor. Heavy chains criss-crossed his gigantic chest, and seemed to be the only things holding his banged up chassis together. With curiosity, a small human hand reached out and laid on the cold armored form. She held still, but the beast kept frozen in death.
However, as Annabelle kept her hand on the alien, she felt an emotion she never thought she would get from such a creature.
Pity.
Why should she feel bad about the monster that killed so many innocent people, and destroyed thousands of innocent worlds? She should feel relieved it was dead and not threatening her life or anyone else's. Yet, she couldn't feel any hate toward the Decepticon. Only pity and sympathy.
The teen looked around behind her, and with a daring sigh, she placed her rifle on the ground beside her, and began to scale up the alien's chest.
She steadied herself atop the massive upper chest, staring at the gruesome face that appeared half mangled and torn, as if a blast blew part of it away. The hood cloth covered the other half of his face, and Annabelle took the suicidal liberty of pushing it aside to see the rest of his face. He had sharp, vicious features: large sharp teeth, battle scars, and dim red optics. She felt it rude, but Annabelle couldn't help but just stare at the beast.
How could something so mighty be reduced to this so easily?
She remembered the armor fragment in her pocket, and took it out to try and match it anywhere on the robot. She bent down to her knees atop the alien's chassis, and placed it down on a break in his armor. Perfect match.
Pausing to admire, Annabelle didn't notice the red optics slowly coming online.
The body shifted suddenly, and as she yelped out trying to balance herself, a hideous rumble and growl made her shiver. She shot her gaze up and met two frightening, fiery lava-red optics blazing back at her in rage.
"Oh shit!" She cried out as she leapt off the Decepticon, but once hitting the ground, she went rolling and heard a snap. The girl was in a daze, and a growl that shook the earth made her come back to her senses. She flipped back to her feet, staggering momentarily as she saw the monster stand high, looming over her.
Annabelle saw her arm, and pain finally seemed to register as she cried out in agony. Yep, it was defiantly broken. The rifle was heard being crushed beneath the Decepticon's giant pede, and she winced.
With her good hand, she grabbed her pistol from its holster and fired up at the alien as a pathetic last resort. The shells pinged off the giant's chest like BB gun pellets, and once the clip was empty she threw the gun to the ground with a hurtful shout. She began to shuffle backward, the demonic optics growling down at her. She could only stare back in horror. A stone tripped her from behind, and Annabelle fell hard on her back. The teen went into a daze again as her head smacked the ground.
She was enveloped around walls of tall grass, which blew softly in the wind as she looked straight skyward. The stars were blocked from sight as the Decepticon figure stood right over her, his growl deepening as he drew closer. The teen couldn't look away as the mech crouched over her, a claw lowering down toward her head. She let out a sob, through both the agony firing up her broken arm and the idea of her death drawing near.
They were right, and she was right. She was a fool, and because of it she was about to pay the ultimate price. And once again, no one was there for her. She would die alone, a gruesome bloody death. They would find her body the next morning, mangled beyond recognition, and then move on. What a way to die.
Annabelle let tears stream down her face as she shut her eyes tightly, waiting for the final breath.
A child…?
I stare in confusion, bewilderment.
The human child is leaking from the eyes, not moving to run. Just lying there, which I suppose is a sign of awaiting death. Is that what most humans do, lie helpless and pathetically on the ground until they die? None of the other humans did this, at least they put up a decent repent. But, what was a human child doing out here? Not that I cared to find out, but it seemed generally out of place to find a fleshy sparkling wandering about. I found it puzzling. Human children rarely are out on their own at this age, more or less with weaponry.
It is cradling an arm atop its chest. Most likely damaged.
I reach down to inspect her, (further analysis proved it was a female), and carefully prodded at her chest. She winced, yelping briefly. Fragile weaklings, they cry out at the slightest touch. I take her head carefully between two claws, and she shouts out, her eyes still firmly closed and leaking heavily. I release her, and she flops her helm back on the ground with a moan, turning on her side.
She still had a knife weapon stashed on the hip, so why wasn't she fighting back?
I growl inwardly, the frustration overbuilding. The sound makes her tense up, drawing her knees to her chest.
The femme was obviously terrified, refusing to neither run nor face me. I can't help but smirk to myself. Watching her tremble with fear was almost intoxicating.
I stand up straight, and shift a foot only slightly over the ground just enough to squish the human under. I had my fill of her terror.
There is the sound of human vehicles in the distance. Snapping my head around, I snarl lowly as I peer into the dark. Heavily armed humans are approaching, the ones that came recently before. Most likely came to clean up their failed mission.
I turn down to the child, who is still simply lying upon the ground. Her breathing was steady now, calm. She wasn't leaking anymore, and not making odd noises. She seemed rather peaceful.
She was welcoming death.
…
…
Something I can't understand.
I could leave her here; surely the humans would take her back. I simply had to stalk off, leave the human be.
That couldn't happen. She would give away my current location, and the armed humans would return. I can just step on her. Nothing will be left of her to explain anything.
Yet…her manner of welcoming death intrigues me.
…
…
Strangely, I have a deep inner need to…
Understand.
…
…
The human troops are drawing closer to our position. I had to decide now.
…
…
…
I scoop the child up in a claw, gentle but quick. With a groan, I fold down into my alt mode, the fleshling inside my cab. Without looking out of the humans' present position, I steady retreat into the trees and down out of sight.
The child seemed to have gone into a form of stasis lock before I picked her up. Good thing, or else I would have an unpleasant manner of keeping a screaming human quiet.
Once she awakens, I will have plenty to force out of her.
Oh, the pleasure of the thought…
-X-
2:27AM.
"Annabelle!" Ben called out, shining his flashlight all around. The other three were in tow behind him as he led their way through the untamed fields. "Annabelle!"
Each man set off in a certain direction, in fan formation to scan anything from any angle. They continued to call out the teen's name, but were only answered by the blowing wind. Flashlights shined all around, searching for signs of their lost friend.
Garret scanned the base of a snapped tree, knowing that natural causes didn't create it. Tread marks could be seen along the flattened grass, tearing up dirt and uprooting the nearby foliage. "Megatron was defiantly here!" he called out to the others.
"Well we know where Megsy's been," Low-Ry answered, kicking around turned over soil. "But where the hell is the kid?"
"Hopefully not around here." Garret replied, his voice soft.
"Yes, but what if-" He was interrupted by a sharp whistle from Sorval, who waved the other three hastily over.
He pointed down at the remains of a pack and an M-40, partially crushed into the dirt and snapped into several pieces.
Ben picked up the pack slowly, staring with wide eyes. "…It's the kid's."
Bending down, Sorval picked up twelve pistol shell casings, showing it to the others.
Garret inspected one of them. "Nine millimeter. It's definitely her."
"There was a commotion around here, there's trampled grass everywhere." Ben said.
Turning toward the ground, he followed along the flattened trail. He found the tossed pistol discarded in the mud, but kept going until he stopped to a circular crop in the grass.
"She fell here…" he glanced back, pointing to where the heavy tread marks are seen. "Megatron was standing there…over her."
"And then killed her, right?..." Ben finished, his voice soft.
Garret frowned, and shook his head slow with a scowl. "No. There's no blood or remains, she didn't get attacked here. And there are no signs that she got up and ran."
"So what're ya sayin'?" Low-Ry pressed, uneasy as he aimed his flashlight along the scene with the others.
"I'm saying this was the last spot she was at. The trail ends here."
"But if Megatron was right in front of her, why didn't he just kill her while she was down?" Ben wondered.
"I'm still asking myself that question. Why?" He frowned in frustration at the mini crop circle, before turning to the side. "There, look." Pointing his flashlight, it revealed tire treads through the dirt. They shone their lights along them until they vanished into the trees.
"They start right where Megs was standing…" Ben murmured.
"Did…he kidnap her? Save 'er slaughter for later?" Low-Ry squeaked out, eyes wide.
Garret sighed, keeping composed over his inner worry. "It looks like it, but we can't assume anything yet. All we know is that she was still alive while she was here. If Megatron has her, she probably won't last long."
"We can't go after her like this, we won't stand a chance." Ben argued.
"I didn't say we go after her now. If he still has her alive, he'll use her against us." He turns back to the trees, shining the light into the claw-like branches. "No, we head back and report. And let's hope she keeps her promise…"
"What promise?" The bodyguard and junkies turned to Garret.
The lead mechanic sighed soft. "…That she'll make it 'til morning."