Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All unrecognizable ones are the intellectual property of yours truly; their theft is punishable by severe voodoo-induced pain in any and all sensitive organs of the body, followed by eternal damnation.
Because, you know, stealing is wrong.
Title: Juxtaposition
Summary: Transformers AU. She saved his life... and did not even know it. A series of unrelated events results in an earth-shattering meeting between species, cultures, and minds that is merely the beginning of so very much more.
Rating: T
Warnings: mild cursing
Author Notes: All righty, I am now officially a dork on two counts.
One: I just spent the past couple hours downloading all the music to the Chipmunk Adventure, and I'm still unbelievably thrilled. Moreover, I've been looking for it for months! X3
Two: Yesterday, I blew nearly $20 on a Sunstreaker Alternators figurine and proceeded to spend four hours trying to get him transformed from car to robot and robot to car.
The dratted thing is marked for five years old and up. Any five year-old who can change that thing without suffering an aneurism deserves a place at MENSA.
Hell, I may deserve a place at MENSA for managing it.
Transformers: Juxtaposition
Chapter Twenty
Professor Jones: They're trying to kill us.
Indiana Jones: I know, Dad.
Professor Jones: This is a new experience for me.
Indiana Jones: It happens to me all the time.
- Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Back in the hole! Back in the hole!
The comm-system shut off with an abrupt click, and her body darted toward the still-open access hatch, but she slid to a clumsy halt when her ears rang with an all-too-familiar keen, and the purple and black mech melted from the wall mere meters from her goal destination. Sideswipe cursed blackly and wrenched her body around in a frantic U-turn, sprinting for the nearest pile of crates... or to be more precise, for the meter-wide gap between two of the towering metal boxes.
Behind her, the strange mech laughed. "Poor squishy. Did I scare you?"
The gap was even smaller than it had appeared, wide enough for her shoulders and hips to pass with mere inches to spare. Evelyn was amazed and relieved at the lack of dust or cobwebs until she remembered that most dust was organic particles and that there could be no cobwebs where there were no spiders.
No spiders, she thought, feeling/watching as her body wriggled further into the dark space. No spiders, but I'm being chased by an insane robot the size of King Kong.
I don't think that's a fair trade.
'How do you think I feel? If I were in my own body, that glitch would be subatomic particles by now! But no! I'm stuck as some knee-high organic with all the firepower of a deactivated retro-rat!'
The narrow aisle between the boxes came to an abrupt dead-end, and her body wriggled around to face the slim rectangle of light that was abruptly blocked out by a black shadow and a single glowing point of red.
"Little squishies like little places," muttered the mech. "Gotta' make it difficult, don'tcha?"
He can't get to us, can he? she asked.
She could almost hear the voice's thought processes speed up. 'Theoretically, no. He might be able to move the crates, but phase-capables are lightweights as a rule, so that's probably not going to happen.'
What about reaching through the crates?
'He'd have to reach in, unphase his hand, grab us, and pull us out along the opening. Not going to happen. Generally, their feet are the only parts that they can unphase while keeping the rest of their body incorporeal.'
Their feet?
'Can't have your spies falling through the floor every time they tried to take a step, can you? Though it makes walking through walls a bit of a study on timing and balance, I would think.' There was a pause, and the voice added, 'But I've only seen them in action a few times, and those few times I was trying to take them apart, not hide from them.'
Oh. No guarantees, huh?
The mech was prying at the narrow opening with fingers that barely fit in the crack. It muttered a constant stream of nonsensical grumbles and curses as it pulled and tugged, struggling like a cat trying to follow a mouse that had hidden itself where the cat could not follow. Evelyn's heart skipped a beat when one of the crates shifted a few inches, but that was all the progress that the mech managed to make.
'There's got to be more of them onboard,' the voice murmured.
What makes you say that?
'Can't you feel it? The floor is vibrating. There's fighting somewhere. And phase-capables don't get solo missions unless they're suicide missions.'
Not much of a career ladder, then? she asked, her attention focused on the giant still struggling to reach her.
The mech hissed a garbled string of static and curses, and Evelyn's ears were filled with the familiar keening sound as the mech phased and swiped one arm through the boxes in a fit of pique. Her body flinched as the tips of his fingers 'pulled' through her.
I wish he would stop doing that!
Sideswipe apparently agreed, because her body pressed even further back into her meager shelter.
There was a thunderous explosion from elsewhere in the room that set her ears to ringing, and there came two more explosions in quick succession, and smoke roiled into the room, blocking out most of the light that filtered down to where Evelyn sat.
Help? she thought hopefully.
"Took long enough!" snapped the strange mech. "Stupid Backlash!"
"I might have been here sooner if the fraggin' doors would actually open!" rumbled a deep, bass voice. "What's Scattershot thinking, sending us on a sparked ship? Glitch."
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Gotta grab an' get before we get got!"
'What?'
What?
"Quit your jabbering, Twitch. Have you found it or not?"
"... in the hole," muttered the phase-capable mech.
Footsteps shook the floor, and the light was once more blocked, one glowing red eye peering down at her. "Wonderful. Come on before the Auto-dolts catch up. Grab hold."
The phase-capable mech hissed and muttered, but there was the distinctive grinding shriek of metal on metal, and she could see the faintest outlines of four sets of fingers grasping the edge of the giant metal crate.
Not good, not good, not good, muttered Evelyn.
'Duh, duh, duh,' replied the voice.
The crate slid ponderously sideways, scraping against the floor, marring the metal. Her body followed the movement, pressing as far in the corner as possible. Once a sizeable opening had been achieved, an arm reached for her, painted blue and gray, but it fell short by several meters, fingers clawing at the air.
The newcomer cursed. "Further," he order tersely, and the crate began to shift once more.
"Pushy, bossy, pushy, bossy," muttered the phase-capable mech.
Shouldn't we... run?
'To where, exactly?' snapped the voice.
Regardless, when the hand returned, her body darted to one side and made a dash toward the opening. Inches before she reached open air, the world lit up as though blood-red lightning had struck nearby, splitting the air with an ear-numbing crack! that nearly drowned out the familiar keen of the phase-generator. She tripped and tumbled to a limp halt just beyond the pile of crates.
A pile of blue and gray metal landed before her with a jarring crash. Sparks glittered and smoke billowed and fluids dribbled from the open port of severed wires and tubes where the mech's head was once attached. Evelyn gaped, sickened, as the body's arms and legs still moved jerkily, trying to gain purchase on anything, but a towering figure stepped forward through the smoke-hazed air, and Sunstreaker, eyes glowing nearly white, drove a metal quarterstaff through the mech's chest with a merciless crunch, stilling all movement.
"Hey, bro," rasped her voice hoarsely. "What kept you?"
"Where's the other one?" The yellow warrior wrenched the quarterstaff free of the metal corpse, sending a spray of various liquids spattering across the floor.
Her body moved sluggishly, her head turning this way and that, but there was no sign of the purple and black Decepticon. Her spine popped as her arms pushed her into a kneeling position. "Probably gone through one of the walls... or the floor. Who knows?"
"Pit," rumbled the mech. He strode forward, kicking aside one of the dead mech's legs, and he reached down to scoop her up, quickly but not roughly. "Come on, before the rest of the party catches up."
Evelyn felt as though she had left her stomach behind upon the floor, but the voice did not seem bothered by either the missing organ or the fact that they were dangling from a giant golden fist.
"Slaggit, Sunny, how many more are there?"
Sunstreaker strode for the exit and, after a careful moment of peering around the doorframe, out into the marginally less-smoky hallway. "The last count was three unauthorized dockings. Came in under cover of the nebula, running silent."
"Fifteen, then," muttered the voice. "At least. That's just prime."
Fourteen, now, contributed Evelyn, and then she felt sick as the thought of the decapitated mech.
'Hah. That's true.'
Sunstreaker strode through hallways that were faintly hazed with smoke, lights still dimmed to a dull ruby red. The quarterstaff had disappeared, replaced by a mean-looking handgun, and whether intentionally or instinctively, Sunstreaker held her close to the armor of his chest.
He moves like a cat, she told the voice, and it was true. The yellow mech's steps, though not noiseless, were far quieter than she would have believed possible, especially considering that he was moving at a swift lope down the longer corridors, and she would have described his movements as sinuous or even graceful.
'What, one of those fluffy Earth creatures with the big optics?' The voice sounded disturbed by the comparison. 'Where the slag did you get that?'
... Nevermind.
The mech would halt at each intersection and carefully peer around each corner to check for danger, weapon held at the ready. At one such intersection, there was the sound of footsteps –not silent, but as with Sunstreaker, quieter than any mech should have been able to produce. Evelyn could make out several sources of ringing over the ever-present noise produced by being within the ship.
The yellow mech peered around the corner, sneered, and growled, "Fraggin' outmoded pieces of scrap. Did you take the scenic route?"
He stepped around the corner, and Evelyn saw a very surprised-looking Bumblebee, a grim-faced red and white mech she knew was named Inferno, a silver, green and yellow minibot whom she suspected was Brawn, and the familiar black and white form of Jazz.
"What th' frag're ya doin' down this far, Sunshine?"
"What do you think?"
"Ah. Dumb question. Beat us t' th' punch, then," said the black and white mech amiably, glancing toward Evelyn. "Saved us some time. Y'okay there, Evy?"
"We're fantastic, all things considered," said Sideswipe.
In an abrupt movement that startled Evelyn badly, the yellow warrior dumped her into Bumblebee's arms. The minibot fumbled for a second, his gun disappearing to wherever their weapons went, before he got a firm grip around her waist, her hands clenched upon his wrists.
"Hi," said Bumblebee.
Sideswipe grunted.
Sunstreaker was striding down the hallway in the direction he had originally been heading, gun in one hand, quarterstaff in the other.
"Keep moving," growled the warrior. "They're tracking Sideswipe's spark signal."
Bumblebee glanced down at Evelyn with wide optics.
Her shoulders shrugged. "Weird energy signature," said Sideswipe simply.
Jazz waved them forward with one hand, and the four mechs followed after Sunstreaker. Bumblebee took a moment to shift Evelyn into the crook of his arm, retrieving his gun from thin air.
"Prowl wants us t' meet up w' his group," said Jazz. "He's two decks up, keepin' up a blockade t' keep the 'Cons out of Met's core. Safest place fer yer brother."
"Noted," grunted Sunstreaker.
"Hang a left at th' next intersection. We'll take th' maintenance ladders up."
Sunstreaker did not reply, but when they came to the next junction, he turned left.
I'm really starting to hate giant robots!
'Call me a hypocrite,' grouched the voice, pressing her body tightly against the wall as the roar of gunfire and the sheew sheew of laser guns filled the air, 'but I'm really starting to agree.'
The maintenance ladders had been an exercise in ingenuity... namely, several long moments of mechs standing around stupidly while they tried to work out a way to transport Evelyn that did not involve using their arms or simply plunking her on their shoulders and hoping for the best. Sunstreaker had grown more and more impatient with each second, until Evelyn (through Sideswipe) had meekly, embarrassedly suggested a 'piggyback' ride.
The climb up the ladder had been nerve-wracking. Seated astride Bumblebee's neck, hugging the minibot's forehead to remain steady, Sideswipe had thought the situation was hilarious. Evelyn had never been more mortified in her life, merely grateful that she had listened to Sideswipe's suggestion all those weeks (months?) ago and donned pants instead of a skirt.
However, upon reaching their goal level and following Jazz's directions toward Prowl's 'bunker', the entire group abruptly came under fire from behind, scaring twenty-years off of Evelyn's life and sending them running for cover in a side corridor.
Jazz was talking quickly to Brawn, something about Prowl's group being further down the hall and on the other side of the corridor from which they had just come and needing an alternate route. Sunstreaker and Inferno were pressed up against the corner, shooting back down the hallway at the unseen Decepticons and adding to the earsplitting roaring, shrieking commotion. Bumblebee peeled Evelyn from her perch atop his shoulders and set down upon the floor as the yellow minibot hurried to join the firefight.
The red lighting added an eerie aura to the scene as Evelyn, her body still under Sideswipe's control, pressed against the wall to present as small a target as possible.
'Persistent glitches, aren't they?' said Sideswipe as the shooting continued unabated for several long moments.
Jazz suddenly made a buzzing, grumbling noise and cursed, sounding not at all like his normal cheerful self. "They got Torque!" he called, raising his voice to be heard. "Prowl's seen 'im w' th' other 'Cons."
"Then what's keepin' them from pullin' out?" growled Brawn. "They got their buddy! They should be gettin' while the gettin's good!"
"They want Sideswipe, you undersized piece of scrap," snapped Sunstreaker. "They're probably all heading this way!"
'Good ol' Sunny,' drawled the voice. 'Always making friends.'
Evelyn barely heard the amused comment, too focused on something far more frightening. Without control over her body, it was far easier to focus on listening...
Sideswipe...
The faint keening noise could barely be heard over the din of the battle and the combined ringing of so many mechs, but it was there.
And it was close.
Her eyes widened, and her voice screamed a hoarse "Sunny!" before all sound was drowned out with a keening shriek and the world reared up slam into her as a wall of purple and black that crushed breath from her lungs and sent flashes of light spinning across her vision in a dizzying kaleidoscope of stars.
'I... hate... phase... capables...' slurred the voice.
The ceiling was moving above her, turning this way and that, almost as though it had a mind of its own, and she was treated to a first-rate view of the underside of a purple and black mech's jaw. The jaw in question was moving, quite rapidly, but she could not make out any noise beyond a faint buzzing in her ears. She blinked rapidly, feeling her pulse pounding rather painfully in her temples, and sound came filtering back.
"... gonna' shoot the squishy? Not very nice, not at all."
"Put him down, slagger!"
Her, thought Evelyn. I'm a femme, damn it.
Woman, she corrected herself belatedly.
Her lungs were hitching to draw in a full breath, and when she finally managed, the breath came as a hoarse, shuddering gasp that sounded horrid even to her dazed mind. She remembered falling during her first days of riding a bike and feeling this same hideous sensation. 'Knocked stupid,' her brother had called it laughingly, right before Lizzy had belted him around his ear and called for their mother.
"Not gonna' move?"
She did not like that voice.
"You really wanna' get outta' my way. Boss says, 'Bring me squishy.' Never said how squishy squishy should be..." and the bands of iron around Evelyn's chest tightened, provoking an embarrassing squeak from her throat before the pressure eased once more. "Thought so."
The ceiling was moving again, sliding past overhead, and there were more shadows at the edges of her vision that passed by swiftly. Things seemed far too quiet, and she realized that the omnipresent roar of gunfire had faded to silence.
"Toldja' I'd get it," said that same unpleasant voice again.
Twitch, her mind supplied, and her brain seemed to shed its sluggishness and return to normal speed once more. Aw, hell.
'Pit,' growled the voice.
She raised her head, muscles in her shoulders and neck protesting their abuse, and she felt dizzy all over again as she realized that her captor was carrying her straight toward a group of three strange mechs, all of them with red eyes, all of them with the familiar purple sigil, all heavily armed.
"Where's Backlash?" demanded the largest of the three.
The phase-capable mech grumbled and hissed. "Slagged. Big yellow bot got'im through th' core."
The three mechs looked past Twitch, their eyes narrowing.
"Scattershot wants us to meet up with his group," said the larger bot.
"They're not letting us go past without a fight," murmured one of the smaller mechs. "Scattershot an' his stupid plans. Going to get us all scrapped."
"Won't shoot if we got this," declared Twitch, hefting Evelyn in his fist like some sort of trophy, making her stomach flip-flop.
Evelyn found herself the focus of three pairs of glowing red eyes, and she shrank down within the mech's grip as though it would hide her from view.
The larger bot smiled an unpleasant smile. "How very true."
End Chapter Twenty