rRating: M Language, violence, mental rape, character death, mech erotica, torture, gore. They vary from chapter to chapter, so read at your own risk.
Important Note: This series of fics were started before Revenge of the Fallen hit the theaters. This is an AU 2007 movie verse fic, NOT a ROTF fic.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own in this work of complete fiction is Velocity/Sira and Hardcore. They are mine. Everything else is copy righted and owned by some really rich people. I make no money from this, but wish I could.
XxxX
Mirage
XxxX
With each step, his peds crushed the pebbled ground, and clouds of minute particles puffed upwards. The ever-present dust hung around him; it coated his armor, and irritated his gyros. Cybertron did not have dust in this quantity, but then again, Cybertron did not have dirt… rocks, plants, insects, animals or noisy humans.
He missed Cybertron. He had been gone from home for far too long.
He slowed his pace, as he approached the designated co-ordinates, and carefully observed his surroundings. The nearby star hung high in the sky, a blinding flat disk that even mechs couldn't look at without engaging special filters to protect their optics. The harsh light created tight, anemic shadows that hid beneath the objects that cast them. However, this area held little to cast even the faintest shadow, a world of dirt and light. If it wasn't for the dark wound of a ravine nearby, this place would have nothing.
He searched for organic life-signs, not wanting to be interrupted by a dim-witted native. Only the faint electro-static signals of minuscule heartbeats showed on his HUD, a myriad of primitive animal hidden in the ground and under rocks. Inconsequential.
He stood alone in the barren plain, away from the hustle and bustle of the base. He shuttered his optics and reveled in the silent solitude, a rare delight. He relaxed, letting the tension ease from his frame.
An alarm sounded in his internal audios, jarring him back to wakefulness. He stiffened, and adjusted his HUD displays. A blip appeared. A tiny red dot marked the energy signature of a Cybertronian far in the distance, too far for a visual confirmation. He sent a coded message to the interloper, if he didn't receive the correct answer he had more than enough time to retreat.
A chime announced an incoming signal, and he activated his array to receive it. The unseen mech responded appropriately, but he didn't relax. He only waited.
Several breem passed and a glint of light shone in the distance, visible rays bouncing off a polished surface. Nothing in this desert reflected light.
His pump pounded in his chest and his hypercoils tightened. He despised dealing with this mech, it always turned… personal. He forced his systems to slow, trying to hide his anxiety.
Mirage crossed arms over his chest and widened his legs to a comfortable stance. He forced an aura of calm confidence permeated his electrical field. Continuously, reminding himself that he had nothing to worry about, and that they would both benefit from this exchange.
The pinpoint of light grew larger as it neared, becoming a brilliant beacon, a warning signal. The glare morphed into the wavy shape of a silver Earth vehicle. He scanned the other mech, making sure that his formidable weapons systems remained offline.
They did.
A dozen histers away the mech braked, sliding on the loose soil and kicking up great billows of debris.
Mirage waved the dust away from his intakes, annoyed at the others lack of dignity. The staccato of transformation gears shifting and moving reached his audios. The cloud settled, and a shimmering vestige stood where the silver car had once been.
The newcomer smiled widely and opened his arms in greeting, tipping his head in a mock bow. "I have left my weapons offline; I trust that you have done the same."
Without uncrossing his arms, Mirage snorted, but a smile tugged at his facial plates. "Had I wanted you dead, you would have never seen me."
The silver Cybertronian chuckled, dropping his arms. He stood erect and placed his hands on his hips. His congenial smile never wavered. "Primus, Mirage. How long has it been?"
Mirage's mercurial smile vanished. "I didn't come here to swap pleasantries; you said you had information..."
The Decepticon waved away all concerns with a casual gesture. "Oh, we have plenty of time to discuss that Pit-spawned femme. I would rather catch up with an old friend… that is so much more important. Don't you agree?" He continued to smile, but the happiness never reached his optics, leaving his expression cold and predatory.
"One hundred and seventy-eight astoliters is more than enough to pay for information on Velocity."
"Is this what our friendship has been reduced to?" His facial plates turned downward into a frown. "I remember when we could talk for hours over a few cubes of high-grade, and now look at us. What has happened?" Hardcore's words oozed like thick oil, a forced, feigned, sentimental wistfulness.
"The war has happened," he spat, unable to hide his revulsion. He looked upward, hating the pale blue atmosphere, longing for the spiraling structures and ethereal glow of Cybertron. He turned his attention back to the Decepticon, watching his every shift in expression, his every change in gesture and stance. He searched for tells, clues that hinted at the mech's intentions.
In a flash, the Decepticon's mood changed. The false sentimentality vanished, replaced with jovial excitability. "Speaking of the War, how have you managed to win your way back into the Prime's good graces? The last I heard, half of the Autobots wanted your head for helping Jetfire escape."
He is taunting me. Mirage arrogantly thrust his chin in the air, showing that the words did not bother him. "Ironhide, himself, cleared me."
Hardcore's shutters snapped open in surprise. Even his jaw loosened a little. "Ironhide?" He almost shouted the name, and then cackled hysterically. "The old mech too stupid to die, and tends to the Prime like a spark-nurse? He swore he would smelt down anyone involved with the Femme Offensive and here you are, still functioning. Oh, Primus. You have to tell me everything. I can imagine the look on that old fool's face, he must have fritzed when he decided he couldn't terminate you himself."
The Autobot glared at the other mech and placed his hands firmly on his hips, but he remained silent, letting the Decepticon enjoy himself.
"Slag me. The last I heard, the evidence was so overwhelming that a thousand credit reward had been placed for your head. Are you certain that you don't have compromising vidcams of Ironhide and are blackmailing him." he chuckled. "I can't believe that he even bothered investigating you. Wouldn't it have been easier to just execute you and call the issue resolved?"
Mirage wrapped his dignity around him like a cloak, and kept his chin haughtily thrust into the air. Annoyance laced his words, "Those tactics belong to the Decepticons. The Prime holds Autobots to higher standards.
"Ironhide lead the investigation and he found Jazz's accusations groundless. I might have been at the holding facility at the time, but I had nothing to do with the escape. The Prime himself verified the findings and dropped the charges. I didn't even have to go before a tribunal." He made sure that the last sentence carried a note of spoiled petulance.
Hardcore's shoulders shook with silent laughter, but his expression remained incredulous. "You didn't do it? You didn't help Jetfire?"
"No." Mirage crossed his arms over his chest. He shifted his weight, and glanced towards the stark bareness of the desert. Nothing should ever be so open and empty.
"Then why did you have to escape onto a neutral evacuation ship? Don't tell me you wanted to sight see."
Mirage huffed, "Has it ever occurred to you that the 'evacuation ship' was actually an exploration and mining vessel. We needed new sources of energon, and I had been asked if I wanted the assignment. Autobot Command offered it to me, I wasn't forced to leave."
The Decepticon shook his head in disbelief. "You must have used some high viscosity oil to slip your way out of that situation."
Mirage narrowed his optic shutters, glaring at his companion. "I told you, I wasn't involved in that situation." His hands momentarily tightened into tight fists before he forced them to relax.
Hardcore's frame continued to twitch with mirth, but he remained silent on the subject. Instead, he looked skyward, then to the east. He turned, and Mirage felt the tingle of a general detection sweep, there, and then gone. "I know you have more energon stashed somewhere on this rock. " The Decepticon winked.
Mirage stared at the other mech, his face a mask of pleasant neutrality. The Autobot decided to push his agenda, tired of skirting the issue. "Have you seen her?"
The silver mech frowned in confusion. "Her who? Oh, yes, her. Of course I have seen her; an Autobot femme can cause quite a stir amongst the troops." He chuckled softly and looked towards a nearby ravine. "Am I to assume that Autobot Command wants information on her wellbeing, so they sent you? 'Is she still functioning? Where is she located? Can we get her back?' Oh, I can image the list of questions you are supposed to ask."
Mirage shrugged, keeping his demeanor blasé. "If you must know, they didn't send me. I have come here on my own. What I tell them depends upon the rewards that they wish to offer."
Hardcore stopped staring into the distance and turned to face Mirage. A sly smirk bloomed into a wide smile. "That is a pile of slag, and you know it." He stepped closer, the friendly smile slid into a serious expression, his finger taped the Autobot in the chest. "Let me ask you this: whom does she please? Which one of your commanders does she service? If she isn't, then why bother trying to get her back."
The Autobot leaned forward, pressing against the 'Con's finger, glaring. "The Prime cares for all of those beneath him. He would do the same for any mech in similar situation."
"Really? Tell that to the thousands upon thousands your Prime has sent into battle knowing that their sparks would be extinguished."
Fury exploded along Mirage's circuits, but he held it in check. Only a twitch of his weapon hand gave any hint of his anger. Hardcore knew nothing of Optimus Prime; he could not understand the brutal decisions that the war forced the Prime to make.
He needed to pull the conversation away from personal subjects and back towards his goal. He forced himself to ignore the mech's taunts.
Mirage sneered, lifting the edge of his mouth, showing his dental plates. "As far as I know, she isn't attached to anyone: solider, sergeant or commander. Why are you so certain that she is?" As he said the words, cold suspicions unfurled in his spark, and mixed with his ire. He looked away, staring at a tuft of vegetation clinging to life in the hard soil. Hardcore's words teased at a possibility Mirage had yet to consider, but he couldn't indulge his curiosity and ask questions. The Decepticon did not need more fuel with which to antagonize him.
He took an astroseconds to collect himself, and shift his thoughts back to his primary objectives. "More importantly, what condition is she in? Does she still function?"
The silver mech glanced around, his fingers tapping softly against his leg. He winked at Mirage, but his optics held a calculating coldness that could chill energon.
Abruptly, the mech turned and walked towards a gully. His footfalls stirred the dirt and vibrated the ground.
Mirage stiffened, his hands curled and uncurled in frustration. A seed of uncertainty had taken root in his mind, planted by a lifelong friend and his own unrequited desires. It chafed him, irritating and distracting. His thoughts kept turning towards those uncertainties, wanting to dwell on them, figure out if they held any merit. Right now, though he had to contend with other issues.
He hurried forward and slapped a firm hand on the Decepticon's shoulder, spinning the mech to face him. "I asked you a question."
Hardcore snarled, and stepped backwards, shaking off Mirage's grip. "You forget your place young noble. The next time you touch me like that, expect me to remind you."
The insult fueled the frustration that swelled within Mirage. No longer a meek mech just starting out on his own, he was a mature Cybertronian. Someone that had witnessed friends perish in battle, and his home devastated by war. He would not let the insult slide.
He stepped into Hardcore's energy field, allowing his to crackle against it. "You have spent too much time intimidating those weaker than you and have forgotten that before the war, I was sparked into a higher station than you." Without pause, he sidestepped and brushed past the Decepticon and continued towards the edge of the ravine. It gave Hardcore a few astroseconds to absorb his words, and an excuse to create a buffer of several histers between him and the 'Con.
The sun had moved in the sky and the embankment that he stood upon had started to cast deep shadows on the dry riverbed. Below him, a legless reptile unwound from its hiding place in a crevice and slid onto a rock. He watched the way that is slithered across the slick stones. Uninterested in creature itself, it gave him something to focus his optics on, a visual distraction.
The Decepticon continued to attempt to wrest control of this meeting from him. He had to lead the exchange, and keep Hardcore in his place.
The Autobot shifted his facial plates to mimic an expression of boredom, and shouted over his shoulder, "If you do not wish to discuss the femme, that is fine by me, but I do have to return to base before my absence is noted." He turned and stared pointedly at the Decepticon. "I will just save my energon for another day."
The Decepticon's facial plates shifted, showing the cold void of his optics. His silence radiated contemptuous ire, as he stalked forwards, closing the distance between them.
Mirage resisted the urge to move away from the other mech. He knew that Hardcore could be dangerous, a sadistic killer, but he wagered that the mech's need to secure fuel took precedence over violence.
They continued to stare at each other and astroseconds ticked by. Then, a malicious grin slowly tilted the Decepticon's facial plates. He shrugged calmly. "I have seen her. When I left, she was recovering from a near meltdown, but appeared functional."
The Autobot only nodded, concealing his surprise. If they allowed her the time and solitude to recover, he surmised that they wanted to keep her alive… for now. Death from a meltdown was a hard way to join the Matrix. Metals heated up, becoming brittle, susceptible to breakage under normal stresses. Seals and gaskets warp, letting vital fluids seep out, compromising hydraulics, lubricants and the grease packed around the pump could boil. The victim endured damage to the processor as chips and wires melted destroying signal paths and memories. Eventually, the primary core that held and maintained the spark would fail, splitting at the seams.
He resisted shuddering. Losing the femme to the Decepticons did not bother him, but he could think of better ways to leave this existence.
Hardcore moved cautiously next to him. The subtle tingle of the Decepticon's electrical field brushed softly against his. He did not move or shy away, showing the other mech that he forgave the tiff. He doubted either of them believed the gestures of friendship, just part of the game they played.
"Do you have access to her?" Mirage asked. "I need to know if you can take me to see the femme… only as proof to her condition," he added hastily. If Hardcore took him to see the Velocity, he could return to the Prime with the co-ordinates for a Decepticon stronghold. He doubted that the enemy stayed in one place like the Autobots, instead relied on several hiding places. Even locating one would prove his unwavering loyalty, and garner him the Prime's attention.
Hardcore crossed his arms over his chest, and shifted his weight. He chuckled. "How stupid do you think that I am? What do you think would happen if I strolled into base with an Autobot in tow, and he wasn't a prisoner or a burned out husk?"
Mirage shrugged. "I am sure we could work something out."
Hardcore's optic shutters narrowed, and his mouth components drew together, pursing his lips. "I doubt that will ever happen. Perhaps, the Autobots are willing to exchange something her?"
Mirage frowned. He knew the limits of what he could and could not offer, but… "They might consider such a possibility."
"Good, so would I. Where is my reward for tolerating your incessant questioning?"
Mirage sneered at Hardcore, openly displaying his disgust for the other mech.
The Decepticon smirked, his optics burning with cold confidence.
Unease slipped into Mirage's spark, a gnawing certainty that he had made a mistake. He kept his expression contemptuously pleasant, hiding the swelling disquiet.
"It's stored underground eight point two four hics from here, secured an abandoned building." Something did not sit well with Mirage, and he wanted to be on his way. A nagging suspicion in the back of his processor told him to leave. He had what he needed, and longed for the security of ally mechs around him.
Hardcore's smirk spread to an open, joyous grin, and the sunlight glared harshly off his polished armor and slick metal. Mirage felt a change in Hardcore's electrical field, a hint that came too late.
Mirage stepped to the side while ducking at the same time.
The Decepticon launched himself, a sliver blur in the afternoon brilliance. Mirage didn't have time to defend himself or activate his weapons, before the full weight if the larger mech slammed into him. He tittered on the edge of the ravine, scrambling wildly to arrest his fall. His arms flailed and his hands clutched the open air.
For an infinitesimal moment nothing surrounded him, air whistled through the gaps in his frame. Then he slammed into the ground.
He didn't stall out or wait, the game had changed. He flipped over, and drew his legs underneath him, rearing up. Kneeling, he braced his back against the embankment and bought his primary weapon online. He activated his cloaking device. Light waves bent and warped around him, hiding his form. He faded into the rocks and dirt that surrounded him.
Mirage stared down the sights of his rifle, trying to get a bead on the Decepticon. He swung the weapon in a tight pattern, searching, his finger on the trigger and his pump pounding in his frame.
Battle protocols onlined and evaluated his position. It wasn't good. The gully offered him little cover, and the narrow walls impeded defensive maneuvers. He needed to retreat. A one-on-one confrontation with Hardcore would leave one or both of them damaged or dead.
The Autobot lowered his weapon enough to look over his sights, his optics offering him a much wider field of vision than the narrow scope. The ridge above him remained empty, devoid of the Decepticon's silhouette. Mirage forced his finger to loosen on the trigger, but continually scanned the edge, where the ground touched the sky. Wanting to skyline Hardcore, and blow a hole in his chassis.
He waited, not bothering to run a sensor sweep, knowing that Hardcore would have already jammed his comms and blocked his ability to detect electrical fields. He had dealt with Hardcore for vorns and knew of his love of depriving mechs of their sensors. Once, it had been an annoying prank, now he utilized it as a weapon, ensuring the advantage in battle.
Half a cycle ticked by.
The terran wind whistled through the gully, it stirred up dirt and dried plant debris. Mirage slowly and quietly shifted his weight to one knee, moving the other leg until he could pull it up and rested his weight on a ped. His sharp focus wavered and weary boredom eroded his concentration. His mind slipped towards the unanswered questions that swirled underneath the surface.
Grinding his dental plates in frustration, he shook his head, and dislodged the errant thoughts, sending them sinking back to the recesses of his mind. He tried scanning the area again and his sensors reported absolutely nothing. His facial plates shifted into a snarl.
"What the frag?" He shouted in Common Cybertronian, his voice echoed along the ravine, rebounding again and again until it faded away.
Pebbles bounced down the incline above him, then pinged onto his shoulder, giving his location away. With sharp, precise movements, he arched his back and craned his neck to see the ledge above him. He swung his rifle straight up, his arms tight, and his optic peering down the sights. The heavy, rapid drum of his pump pounded in his audios.
More rocks tumbled down the ledge, and the Autobot's frown deepened. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire. Mirage cycled once, relaxing, readying to make the kill shot.
"You sound like a crude labor-bot." Hardcore's supple tones came from all sides, carried along on the desert wind.
Gears whined in discomfort, but Mirage didn't move. "Why did you attack me?"
"To prove a point." The echo of the Decepticon's voice had changed. It came from a different angle.
Mirage lifted his head slightly, pulling away from his weapon. Audios strained to pin-point the direction of the voice. He turned his head slightly, chasing the sound, but the echoes refused to divulge their source
"You have grown complacent. All these vorns you have hidden behind bigger mechs, peeking out from the Prime's legs like a scared sparkling." Hardcore's voice faded away.
It came from across the gully now. "How can you do it? How can you follow that degenerate, knowing what he did to our world? Once, I could have understood your fascination with the new Prime. We were all vying for his favor and attention, but now…"
The cold burn of anger spread in his spark. Mirage growled, the smooth, threatening purr of his engine charged the air around him. He clamped down on his emotions. Blind rage wouldn't help him. "You don't have to understand my choices."
Peds softly whumped nearby, and a sardonic laugh cut the air. "You're correct, you don't have to explain a thing to me, but let me ask you this? In all these vorns, has he even noticed you? Has he even acknowledged your dedication? When will you realize that Optimus Prime will never honor your service to him?"
Mirage's hands tightened around his rifle, and he pulled it against his chest, a protective talisman. Small tremors ran along his body, and he ground his dental plates together. He stared at the rocky slope across from him, every tiny pebble stood out in harsh detail. Rage pulsed through him. Millennias of rejection bubbled to the surface. He shuttered his optics, and dropped his head. He inhaled, pulling air over his intakes, hoping that the cold would extinguish his anger. He cycled several times before he spoke.
"That is my concern." His words held all of the pent up emotions, and frustrations that chafed his spark.
"Mirage, you are chasing a comet's tail. Come back with me. You know that you always have a place with us."
The comforting warmth in the Decepticon's voice acted like laced energon. His head snapped up and his optic shutters flew open. He barked in bitter laugher. "Really? Thank you, no. I enjoy living too much. How about I return your offer? When you get tired of following the orders of a sadistic lunatic you can defect to the Autobots. The Prime still offers sanctuary to those who ask for it."
Silence settled around him. He listened for the fall of a ped, or the hum of a gear.
Nothing.
"What? Not having to grovel to your superiors sounds unappealing!"
Mirage craned his neck, trying to get a cleared view of the ledge above him. A tiny bird peeked over the lip of the ravine. It hopped along poking at the ground with its beak, unconcerned with the affairs of mechs.
He sighed, and ran a sweep of the area. Minute electrical pulses filled his HUD, the life signs of Earth animals. Hardcore had gone.
The Autobot's frame sagged with relief. He took a few astroseconds to subdue his racing pump, shut down battle programs, and turn off his cloaking mechanism.
The little bird squawked and flew off.
On weak, stiff legs, he stood, and braced his free hand against the incline.
Mirage turned and walked along the gully, his rifle in hand. He wouldn't stow his weapon until he was absolutely certain that the Decepticon had left the area. One ped fell in front of the other, stirring up the dirt.
XxxX
Heavy clouds blanketed the sky, and blocked the moon, smothering the desert in darkness. His headlights cut through the gloom, twin lances piercing the night. He sped along the dirt trails as fast as his he could, his chassis scraping and pounding along the potholes and dips.
Mirage ignored the discomfort every time he bottomed out on the ruts in the road. He had already crumpled a corner his fender on a particularly nasty spot, but it would heal. He wanted to reach the security of the base.
His mind turned relentlessly, a jumbled mess as fearful anxiety unfurled within his spark. Hardcore's words planted the seeds of doubts, and during the long, solitary drive back to the base, those seed had taken root. Mirage wondered if desire blinded him, warping his perceptions. He wondered if, during his absence, another usurped his place. He wondered if the Decepticon lied to compromise his loyalty, attempting to tempt him to join the enemy. He wondered about many things, and his spark ached, a dull throb in the middle of his being.
He crested a hill. Below, nestled on the black plain, glowed the Autobot base. He didn't pause to consider the austere practicality of the low-lying buildings and the tight rows of Earth war vehicles. Such mundane trivialities meant nothing to him. He revved his engine, and raced down slope, descending, using gravity to gain momentum.
Ahead of him snaked a ribbon of asphalt. He pulled onto the paved road and accelerated. His tired squealed, and his backend fishtailed slightly as he raced forward. He headed towards the base, headless of anything around him, to distracted by his thoughts to care.
How can you follow that degenerate, knowing what he did to our world?
He downshifted to build torque, and then slammed into top gear.
Tell that to the thousands upon thousands your Prime has sent into battle knowing that their sparks would be extinguished.
The high whine of his engines echoed in his audios, but it could not drown out Hardcore's words.
When will you realize that Optimus Prime will never honor your service to him?"
Anger, jealousy and bitter realizations cycloned within him. He could not outrun or outmaneuver the truth.
The Autobot blew through the first security checkpoint, refusing to stop or even slow. The soldiers operating it waved their arms frantically, but wisely jumped out of his way. His low sitting form zipped beneath the descending traffic bar, a blur in the dark. He did not have time to worry about the delicacies of human diplomacy, that task fell to the Prime.
Need and devotion warmed his frame at the thought of Optimus. He had known what he wanted the first time he had laid optics on the mech. He knew without a doubt where his destiny would leave him. He never gave up his dream, even when Optimus openly admitted his bond to Elita, a bond established before his ascension to Prime.
But his unanswered questions continued to plagued him. They chewed at his mind, eroding, poisoning.
On the smooth concrete, he became a sleek blue shadow, fading in and out of pools of artificial light. His tires squealed as he slid sideways around a building, disappearing into the deep gloom. Entering the dark recesses, he eased back the throttle, instantly slowing. As he rounded the side of the Autobot's hanger, he braked, rolling to a smooth stop.
Engaging his transformation gears, he quickly stood. His shoulder brushing against a collection of hollow tubes suspended from the narrow eve. They chimed in resonating notes, inadvertently announcing his arrival. Irritated, he reached back and grabbed them, pulling them down. With a flick of the wrist, he sent them sailing into the shadows, clanking as they landed and bounced.
The Decepticon's words haunted him. They swirled unabated in his mind, vile shards slicing at his confidence. He rolled the mech's insinuations around in his processor, attempting to dull them, deny them, and reason them away.
The heavy thud of peds on asphalt announced the arrival of another. Begrudgedly, Mirage pulled himself away from his thoughts, and tried to focus on his current task. He waited. Within a click, pale blue optics and pristine white armor cleaved the shadows.
"Report," Prowl ordered in Common Cybertronian. The SIC stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, his stance rigid.
Mirage narrowed his optic shutters, it rankled him when the former statute enforcement officer refused to acknowledge their differences in social standing. He snorted contemptuously. "I doubt I have much to report." He raised his hand and with his first digit, dug a dirt clot out from under the pad of his thumb.
The Autobot SIC leaned against a building, partially slipping into a shadow. His optics glowed steadily. "Did you find out where their base is located?"
Mirage cocked his head to the side and blinked. Nagging suspicions bubbled softly in his spark, misgivings whispered to him, but in his addled state, he could not pinpoint his worries. He kept his voice even and soft, but he watched the commander. "No, my contact refused to escort me to where they are keeping the femme."
Prowl's facial plates shifted, a small frown pressed his facial features together. He looked beyond Mirage, staring intently at the blank wall, his fingers tapping slowly against his upper arm. Vents cycled, heated air steamed out of the SIC, surrounding him in a cloudy mist.
He looked back at Mirage, his expression pensive, worried. "Do you think that you can convince your contact to allow you access to her?" His fingers continued to tap out a rhythm on his arm.
Slowly, with even, measured tones he answered the question, "Highly unlikely, but he did mention a possible exchange."
Prowl's shutters opened wide, and his gaze lock onto Mirage. "What did he ask for?"
Mirage ground his dental plates; they had already wasted enough resources, and received nothing in return. "He didn't have any requests, only wanted to know if we would entertain that possibility."
The tactician deflated slightly. He looked away, his optics dimmed as he withdrew into his own mind.
Obviously weighing his options, Mirage thought to himself, crunching the data. However, Mirage's processor hummed too. Prowl acted distracted, worried, and Mirage could only image a couple of scenarios that would cause the normally stoic mech to show such emotion, and this just didn't appear serious enough to warrant such a display.
The commander's words interrupted the brief silence. "Do you have anything else to report?"
Mirage shook his head, signaling negative.
His mind churned ceaselessly, trying to make sense out of all the confusing contradictory facts, but one stood out, demanding attention. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before, and realization raced along his circuits. Confusion melted into shocked understanding and indignation. They sent him out even though they already knew…
Without looking at Mirage, Prowl turned to leave. He called over his shoulder, "You have done well. As usual, keep this between ourselves, and let me know if you contact requests another meeting."
The SIC stepped twice.
He lunged forward and clamped a hand on the commander's shoulder. "You never even asked about Velocity's condition!"
Prowl whipped around, his optics flashed, lighting his features. "Remember that I am a superior officer," he growled in warning.
Mirage's optic shutters narrowed as his facial features contorted into a hostile snarl. He grabbed the commander's other shoulder. "You knew that she still functioned!" he yelled. "You knew that she still functioned, and sent me out anyways! You sacrificed our fuel, filling enemy tanks and charging enemy weapons, even though you knew! Why?"
He shoved Prowl backwards, unleashing his frustration, fury and confusion on the SIC.
The black and white mech stumbled slightly, but he quickly regained his footing and closed the short distance between them. His engine rumbled deeply, and his hands clinched into tight fits, but he kept them pressed against his sides. He sucked air through his intakes. "If you are half as smart as you profess to be, then you should be able to figure things out, and when you do, I would suggest that you keep your vocals silent." His electrical field arced in the darkness, slamming against the noble-mech.
Prowl glared at him, a protective rage burned within his optics, but his face remained a cold, mask. He took a step back, but his hands remained fists, the gears whining with the strain. "If you doubt the seriousness of this situation, you can come to me and we will discuss it like soldiers."
Abruptly, the tactician tuned and stalked into the darkness, the thump of his peds faded in the distance.
Mirage staggered, his body shook from the sudden absence of the stronger electrical field. He leaned against a wall, needing the structure's support to remain on his feet. His emotions stalled, choking on their own intensity, leaving him numb.
Alone, hidden in the shadows, he paused to think.
He tried to piece together what he knew, but his thoughts whirling chaotically. He had read the reports, and knew that she hadn't made commlink contact before disappearing, but Prowl knew that Velocity still functioned.
The more he concentrated, the more confused he became.
He shuttered his optics, and ground his dental plates together. His thoughts circled around and around. How? How did they know?
Could the Decepticon's have already contacted the Autobot command? Unlikely.
He remembered Hardcore's words. Whom does she please?
If you are half as smart as you profess to be, then you should be able to figure things out, and when you do, I would suggest that you keep your vocals silent.
But how did Prowl know?
A bond would produce a connection, a route of communication from one spark to another.
The secrecy, the SIC's odd behavior, and his willingness to give away fuel for information. Only high-ranking mech's would warrant such…
His energon froze in his lines. It could not be.
He couldn't accept the possibility; he didn't want to accept the possibility. He had held the dream for vorns. Even during the war, he had refused to let his dream die; he wrapped his spark around it, nurturing it, using it to keep him going.
They hadn't been together long enough, the femme hadn't been on the planet for a full orbit, barely a blink of the shutters to most Cybertronians. His tanks churned and the world listed violently. He dug his hand into the side of the wall, trying to keep himself from collapsing. His vents hitched erratically.
"No." he whispered.
The heavy clomp of peds alerted him to approaching mechs. He activated his cloaking shield and blended in with the dark spaces around him. Hound and Cliffjumper strolled by in deep conversation, oblivious to him. Once they passed, he slipped away unseen.
XxxX
Sunstreaker…
Aloof. Arrogant. Brutal. Beautiful. Not his first choice, but right now, that mech appeared to be his only choice.
Mirage sipped his energon, cautiously glancing at the brooding warrior over the rim of the container. It had taken him less than a cycle to analyze, evaluate and decide on next course of action. Perhaps the riot of pain, rejection, jealousy and spark crushing disappointment that surged through drove him to act.
Perhaps he should stop "chasing a comet's tail", but first he had to know. He had to make sure that his suspicions proved true.
His hand shook as he sat the container on the table, a tiny tremor hinting at the Autobot's apprehension. His tanks felt hollow, even though he had just refueled. The weight of his emotions suffocated his spark; they haunted his thoughts and disrupted his logic.
The Prime had taken a new bond mate, all the hints and evidence led to that conclusion. Until he proved it for himself, he refused to accept that Optimus had chosen a minor femme over him. He was a noble-mech, sparked to lead and rule. He understood the intricacies of Cybertronian government. He could handle himself with poise and grace in all social circumstances. He had worked tirelessly to learn all that he could so that one day he could stand proudly beside the Prime.
And what happened?
The Prime chose a low ranking femme.
Mirage sneered bitterly into his cube. An image of Velocity gesturing rudely to Ironhide flashed in his processor. Such unbecoming behavior would never have been tolerated. In the Chamber of The Ancients, rudeness met with swift retribution. Of all the 'Bots left alive, Optimus had to pick the crudest, most obnoxious mate he could find.
It was a slap in the face, an affront to him and Cybertron.
The mech sipped the dregs his energon, glancing sidelong at the yellow, melee warrior. Sunstreaker ignored him, and carefully flipping through the pages of a human magazine. From where he sat, Mirage could see tiny images of naked humans tangled together. Disgusting.
He would have preferred to negotiate with almost any other Autobot, but most had arrived after Velocity, and the only ones that had been planet-side before she arrived, belonged to the Prime's Inner Council, except the twins. Mirage gave up attempting to locate the more congenially twin, but Sideswipe could fade away almost as well as himself.
Time ticked by as he waited for the warrior to take his leave. Patients defined the nobles; they could carefully nurture their aspirations for vorns, calmly focused on a distant goal.
Right now, he didn't have vorns, and he needed answers.
Sunstreaker flipped the magazine closed, and with quick, efficient movements, he gathered the periodical and empty fuel container. He rose to his feet and moved towards the door.
Mirage sat his cube squarely on the table, the empty thud sounded ominously in the too quiet room. Using his hands to steady himself against the table, he stood. He left his container where it sat and stalked towards the other mech.
He hurried to catch up to Sunstreaker. The Autobots long legs carried him fairly far in a short span. Mirage had to trot to get close enough to brush against the warrior in the narrow hallway.
The astrosecond their fields touched, Sunstreaker stopped and whipped around. Mirage found himself staring into hostile, glacial blue optics. The mech's frown deepened, marring the perfection of his features.
"What?" snarled Sunstreaker, his hands crossing over his chest.
Mirage bravely stepped forward, his chest plates almost brushing against the other's armor. "I want to talk." His voice sounded sure and confident, without a trace of nervous warble.
The warrior's pale optics narrowed and his head cocked to the side slightly. "Why?"
Enmity rolled off the Autobot.
Mirage questioned the sanity of his actions, but he pressed forward, any show of weakness would only earn him a trip to Ratchet's med bay. "I was wondering if you would like to adjourn to my quarters. There is something I would like from you and I'm sure we could work out a trade." He reached out, brushing the other's wrist near his interface cover.
Sunstreaker cocked a brow-arch.
Truthfully, Mirage had no intention 6iof interfacing with the mech, just tease him; peak his interest. Their social standings were too far removed. He came from the elite upper tiers and Sunstreaker heralded from below the labor class, nothing more than fodder for the gladiatorial pits. Without his talents for creating pretty images, he never would have scraped his way out, dragging his brother with him.
"What do you want to discuss?"
Mirage glanced around suspiciously, even though he knew the corridor only held the two of them. He moved closer, whispering in the other's audio, "Not here. We need privacy."
The warrior didn't move away, instead a confident smirk quirked the side of his mouth. His energy field hummed with curiosity, not a trait Mirage would have associated with either of the twins.
Sunstreaker stepped back and with a curt nod of his head, ushered Mirage forward. His optics glowed with amusement and an indefinable expression that made Mirage's spark twist with apprehension. "Is my quarters private enough?"
Mirage only nodded ignoring the poorly spoken Common dialect, slipped past the mech and into the corridor. His pump pounded in his chest with every step.
They passed enumerable doors; closed doors, open doors, labeled doors, doors where the display showed locked. He did not realize how many doors marred the hallways of the base, and wondered why Optimus thought all of them necessary. His thoughts grasped desperately at anything mundane, refusing to acknowledge that he would be in a locked room with a potentially lethal killer.
They didn't speak to each other as they moved along the barren corridors. A couple of times they passed humans, the organics mostly ignored them, busy with their tasks. They continued on, heading deeper within the complex. Optimus had situated the Autobots' private quarters furthest from the main entrance, a buffer to protect any mech caught in recharge during an attack.
Thy walked a little further, the air between them thick with tension.
Silently, Sunstreaker glided past him and stopped at an unmarked door. Mirage realized that his own quarters sat a mere four doors away; he never cared to learn who his neighbors were.
The door slid open, and a black void awaited him. He squared his shoulders and stepped into it.
The lights came up as the door hissed close behind them, and Mirage's fuel tanks churned. He did not want to be in a locked room with Sunstreaker. In truth, he did not want to be anywhere with Sunstreaker, mechs had a way of sustaining irreparable damage while in his company. Unfortunately, this mech had the answers he sought.
He glanced around the space; it held two bunks and cluttered shelves lined one wall. He moved toward the… oddities, absently noting them: a rusty gear, a dusty sign that said "BEER", a stack of human pornography, a spherical object made from dried, organic skin. He shuddered in revulsion, quickly losing interest in the rest of the collection.
Mirage realized something was missing. "Where is Sideswipe?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Out." Came the curt answer
Instantly, Sunstreaker's energy field pressed against his back, a heated, demanding buzz. Powerful hands gripped his shoulders and slid down his arms, holding him. The rumble of an engine reverberated in the air.
Mirage froze in shock; this was not the response he expected.
He turned slightly, angling so that he could see Sunstreaker's expression. Cold, blue optics glimmered with wicked delight and sly intelligence.
A shiver ran along his spinal supports.
The yellow mech loosened his grip and allowed him to turn so they faced each other. The corner of his mouth curled into a tight smile. Sunstreaker leaned forward; his lips barely touched Mirage's audio receptor. "What exactly are we exchanging?" he whispered, his voice heavy and dark.
Mirage shivered again. His core temp rose as the other mech's field danced along his. The tantalizing sensations excited him, and his own field yielded, betraying him, reading for interfacing. For a fleeting moment, he forgot the hurt of rejection and focused on the beautiful features so close to his own.
A hand slid over his chassis, seeking out seams, teasing, taunting. It moved upwards, flicking softly at tactile sensors, making them fire. A thumb slid under his collar strut, brushing along the wires.
Mirage shuttered his optics, and pleasure pulled a moan from his vocals.
Fingers wrapped around his throat, and his optics snapped open in alarm. Sunstreaker angled his head to the side, bending it to expose wires and cables. Fear mingled with want.
Sunstreaker leaned forward, his head rubbing the side of Mirage's helm. Softly, gently metal lips brushed against his wires.
His frame shook with need. It had been so long, and his spark ached from rejection. It would be so easy to surrender, to forget the pain for a moment. He wanted to lose himself in another.
Sunstreaker nipped at his wires, carefully rolling them, and his processor faltered under the sensory overload. The mech pulled him closer, a hand pressed against his aft, fondling. His legs wobbled weakly, desire building.
Primus, no one had ever done anything like this to him. The warrior's attentions were alien and exotic, new and exciting. Another moan escaped him, and he fanaticized what this mech would feel like along his circuits. The surge of Sunstreaker's energy along his wires, raw and pulsating, driving him to overload.
Sunstreaker's field enveloped his, smothering him with his presence. It overwhelmed him, threatened to control him, and part of him wanted it to.
His pump raced, and his vents cycled rapidly, trying to cool his systems. Lips played along his jaw, tracing the shape of the metal. He shook, and every new sensation made him twitch and jump.
He slipped towards seduction and losing himself in the tantalizing touches from hands capable of ripping apart a Decepticon.
In his mind, he imagined the Prime. He pretended that Optimus held him, seducing him claiming him.
Would it be like this? The need? The senseless want? Would the Prime ever allow him the chance to interface, to show his devotion?
Without warning, the image of a red femme wrapped within Optimus's arms flashed in his processor, freezing the heat in his lines.
A hand slid below his aft, and a finger dove into the seam along his thigh. He gasped. Sunstreaker slid more of the digit into him. He touched a router, and signals exploded all over Mirage's body. The temptation to give into this mech almost overwhelmed him, but…
…But Sunstreaker was beneath him, an inferior mech.
He had trouble forcing his mind focus. The mech's attentions distracted him, and he didn't want to be distracted. He raised a hand and laid it on Sunstreaker's chest, pushing him back.
Sunstreaker complied, gently letting go and stepping back. He gave Mirage space, but his optics flashed. The knowing smirk remained on his face.
Mirage heaved, cycling his vents. "I need to know everything that you know about Velocity." He crossed his arms over his chest, and he stared at the warrior, forcing his systems to slow.
Sunstreaker cocked his head to the side, his featured slipped into a neutral expression, but his optics glowed with a calculating intelligence. "What do I get in return?" he growled, the words dripped from his vocals like venom.
Mirage's pump pounded furiously in his chest, the rush of energon in his lines filled his audios, and his head throbbed with the energy build up.
He flicked his gaze towards the door then back to Sunstreaker. The thought of interfacing with such a crude mech repulsed him regardless of the needy ache along his circuits. He was a noble, better than a random 'facing in a dark corner. "I have resources and connections at my disposal." He paused; an enticing smile spread slowly along is features. "I can arrange the fame and adoration you seek." Assuming you survive the war, he thought to himself.
Sunstreaker's lip curled again, sharing a knowing smile. Mirage silently applauded himself, discovering Sunstreaker's motivation, had proven simple.
The warrior moved so fast that Mirage did not see the attack until the clank of metal striking metal rang in the air. He hurtled backwards, then slammed into the shelves behind him and fell to the ground. The twin's collection of junk rained down on him.
Stunned, he could only stare at the yellow figure before him, his vocals glitching. Panic gripped him and he sat on his aft, too afraid to move.
Sunstreaker squatted; optic level with him, the smile had vanished, replaced by an energon freezing scowl.
Mirage rubbed the dent in his chest, confusion choked his processor. He stuttered several times before he could get the words out. "Why?"
The mech leaned closer, his optics blazed with cynicism and cruelty. Their fields touched, and Mirage pulled his closer to him, shrinking within his own frame.
"Because you think you are better." The twin hissed
Mirage blinked, still trying to analyze the events and make sense of them. Truthfully, nothing made sense, he grasped at loose wires. "Did you pledge allegiance to Velocity?" The question fell out of his vocalizer; he hadn't meant to speak his thoughts.
If Sunstreaker had pledged his loyalty then he would give his life, or take another's to protect the femme.
A bitter chuckle cut through his thoughts and pulled his attention towards the mech in front of him.
"Stupid noble." Sunstreaker stood, and then bent over Mirage. His hands clamped onto the blue mech's frame and powerful gears hauled the noble to his feet as the warrior straightened.
Mirage squirmed and clawed at the fists that held him, they wouldn't open.
The mech dragged him across the room. He attempted to dig his peds in the floor, but they only slipped along the hard surface.
"Sunstreaker, you don't want to injure a fellow Autobot," Mirage whined. "That is what makes us better than the Decepticons. I can help you. I have connections." His words fell on deaf audios.
The warrior opened the door to his chamber and held Mirage up, their faces almost touching. "The only loyalty I have is to my brother," he snarled. With a heave, he unceremoniously pitched Mirage into the corridor.
The noble-mech hit the floor, slid and, rebounding off the wall. He lay crumpled in a heap, fear shaking his frame. Quickly, he scrambled to sit up. Lying prone, he couldn't protect himself.
Sideswipe leaned against the wall opposite of him, next to his enraged brother still framed in the doorway.
A mischievous smile lighting up the red mech features, and he turned his head towards Sunstreaker. He puckered his lips and blew a human kiss towards his yellow counterpart. "I love you too, bro."
Sunstreaker scowled in response. Wordlessly, they both turned and disappeared into their room.
Mirage braced himself with his hands and stood. He staggered the few histers to his room.
XxxX
A/N: I apologize for the amount of time in getting this update out. My only excuse is that I had been sick for over 6 weeks and when I started recovering, (what am I saying, I'm still coughing up nasties) RL caught up and forced me to address ignored issues… like Christmas shopping, unpaid bills, dirty house, starting back to school (getting my Master's OMG)… you name it. The end of the semester rolled around, then Christmas hit, the holiday invasion of family…etc…etc…etc. Anyways, enough whining.
I would like to hug everyone that has read/continued to read/commented on/added to faves this and my other stories. It is for ya'll that I keep up this insanity.
To Animelover: I know you commented on another chapter, but I need to thank you anyways. I am thrilled you like my stories, it makes the sweat, cursing and gallons of coffee worth it to bring this to life. (((HIUG)))). To Jaguar69: Ta da. I have updated. To darkestangel9871: Thank you muchly. My beta readers are some of the best (in my opinion) I would have never been able to hone my skills without their criticism. As for what's gonna happen next, only I know. Mwahahahahaha. To Tia: LOL you know how I think. Velocity's revenge will be long, drawn out and painful. To Starfire201: Soundwave is a cautious mech, he only takes chances when the benefit, greatly outweighs the risk. He is a wanted mech, but has been for a long time, he can handle himself well. I cannot say anything about the anon femme. It would give too much away. The new SecDef does have a lot to learn, she will make mistakes. Thank you for reading that last chapter took a lot out of me to write. To Kiba: Hey, Lady. Hound is a joy to write, I want to spend time on him and just can't. Grrrrrrrrr. So you think you know, who the femme is. LOL. Overdrive is a stupid, crude, dolt of a mech. To Femme4prime: Thank you. I have a feeling that the rest of this story will be really dark. To phobe turner: Thank you.