Rated: M for adult themes: language, violence, mental rape, character death, mech erotica, torture, gore, and suicidal ideation. This varies from chapter to chapter, so read at your own risk.
Important Note: I started this series of fics before Revenge of the Fallen hit the theaters. This is an AU 2007 movie verse fic, NOT a ROTF/DOTM/AE/LK/BB 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
48 Conflict and Concord
XxxX
He viewed the compiled videos. Some of the footage came from grainy security cameras, some from shaky cellphones captured by survivors and victims' alike, and some from social media. Different angles, color or shades of gray, they all showed the same thing, Barricade brutally attacking Hardcore.
Prowl steepled his fingers and pressed them against his lip components. His processor whirled with this turn of events, and he tried to fit it into existing paradigms.
"Well," barked the Secretary of Defense, Miriam Hernandez. "What can you tell me about this?" A command, not a question.
"I am wondering why civilian law enforcement had military grade weapons?" he asked aloud, then hastily added, "But that did seem to end the altercation."
Honestly, he could fill her ears with information about those two Decepticons. He could talk from today until the end of the woman's natural life and still leave information unspoken. Long ago, before the war began, he had extensive interactions with both. If they terminated tomorrow, he wouldn't care. He might even confiscate some of the twins' high grade and celebrate.
Continuing to sort through the videos, he addressed the unseen woman. "I can promise neither has ever served in the Autobot ranks. Your people correctly identified Barricade. The other Decepticon goes by Hardcore. Every time we closed in on him, he would hide behind the protections and power of his status." The Tactician didn't mean to add the last part, but his vocal processor blurted the memories of an unjust and stratified society. "Both are loyal to the Decepticon cause," he added.
"Okay," Hernandez commented, drawing out the word.
Even over the communication link, Prowl heard the hesitancy in the woman's voice. Their conversation began and continued strained. He attempted civility, if only to smooth some of the sharp jags in their rocky alliance. Considering how badly their last meeting went, he had to try something. The Autobots couldn't risk being forced to leave their Earthly home, especially with Prime completely disabled. Yet, he had to vocalize the thought worming darkly through his processor. "You thought one was an Autobot?"
Silence from the other end of the connection told him all he needed to know. His anger flared at the unspoken accusation, but he pushed it down.
"Madam, I can assure you, except for Huffer, who is positioned at Nellis Airforce Base, all Autobots are here and accounted for." He rewound the video to watch Barricade smoothly disarm Hardcore. Prowl noted how the former officer's hand-to-hand skills had improved.
The Tactician added, "We are not engaging the Decepticons as you directed, nor are we attempting to locate them." He couldn't help adding the subtle dig, watching a piece of concrete impact and crush a bystander.
A soft sigh echoed from the woman. "Thank you for clearing that up," she murmured.
Brow ridges rose in mild surprise. Apparently, the human wanted to try civility also. He would play along.
"Besides identifying the two Decepticons, was there anything else you required?" He stunned himself with the accommodating kindness emanating from his vocals. Primus he hated politics. Optimus needed to online and take care of this slag.
"Why are they fighting each other?" the woman asked.
Prowl leaned back in his chair. He propped an ankle across the opposite knee and laced his fingers behind his helm. He offered an indulgence, "Those two might fight for countless reasons. Their stations alone would make them despise each other, and they are both too arrogant to bother changing their opinions."
"Stations?" The SecDef asked.
A miniscule sad smile quirked the Autobot's facial plates. He forgot how little humans understood Cybertronian society. "Stations," he repeated. "The social and economic ranking on Cybertron. Hardcore belonged to a station of elite nobles. They were supposed to be viewed as example for all those below to aspire to," he couldn't hide the sarcasm in his voice.
"And Barricade," the disembodied voice asked over his comm link.
"Barricade was from a lower station. He functioned – worked in code enforcement, far removed from nobility," Prowl thought back, before the war, when life appeared simpler.
"And what did you do? Before the war?"
The question caught him off guard, as did the intimate tone. The SecDef sounded interested, without ulterior motives. "I -uh. I was in code enforcement, but a higher rank that Barricade. I served as a lieutenant to the High Lord Protector." He shifted his position, lowering his arms and crossing them over his chest.
Curiosity leaked through the connection. "Who was the High Lord Protector? Optimus Prime?"
"No, Megatron." He confessed honestly.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, the woman commented, "Sounds complicated."
Memories rushed at Prowl. Vorns of investigating splinter only to realize the High Lord used the data to recruit potential allies. The Prime and the High Lord Protector, both trying to mold a new future for Cybertron. One offered fairness, openness, and justice, the other demanded obedience, servitude and corruption. It just wasn't easy to tell which offered which at that time.
What is law and what is right aren't always the same.
"It was complicated," he admitted. "What I am trying to explain was that there weren't always Autobots and Decepticons. We are all Cybertronians with friends, alliances, rivals and pasts. We were different before the war.
"Some chose to follow the Prime due to blind acceptance of past expectations, others because they didn't want their world to fall into chaos where the strong prayed on the weak. The videos you asked me to view are just the beginning. Infighting is not uncommon to either side, but Autobots limit it to scratches and dents, anything more serious and it is stopped. Decepticons use fighting and assassination to advance rank or eliminate a rival. Only the meanest, most ruthless will rise."
Tired frustration dulled the Secretary's tone, "You want me to tell the Joint Chiefs that almost a dozen people died because a robot wanted a promotion?"
Prowl ignored the casual use of the slur. "That is an oversimplification, but yes. Autobots cannot stop these events from occurring. Megatron's termination has created a void in the Decepticon ranks. They have to reshuffle their leadership and see who comes out on top."
His words lingered in his audios. He realized what he had missed earlier.
Sitting up, Prowl uncrossed his legs and turned off the video of the fight. With sharp stabs, he pulled up profiles of the known Earth-side Decepticons, and those believed to have left the planet.
"Madam Secretary, tell your Joint Chiefs that these skirmishes will continue until a leader emerges. Once that happens, war will come to Earth."
XxxX
She stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the medic's hands on her body. Locking her arms, she forced herself to remain rigid, her hands curled into tight fists.
Since awakening, Ratchet tended to her. He ran tests and diagnostics. Now, he turned his attention to her leg. Raising it in the air, the CMO slowly bent it at the knee and straitened it. He repeated this over and over. "Feels like a spur is forming in the joint. If it continues to enlarge, I'll need to file it down." Then, he rotated the hip socket, his fingers sliding deep within the joint, feeling and exploring.
She shuttered her optics. Within the darkness of her own mind, memories flooded back to her. The shadow black face and burning optics of her torturer stared down at her. His hand slowly reached towards her…
Gasping, her optic shutters snapped opened. Panic jerked her sideways as she flailed to get away.
Powerful hands gripped her, keeping her from falling. Ratchet clicked at her, trying to calm her.
She struggled, but only to regain control. The Autobot's hands still touched her, but they steadied her, not exploring. Back in the present, she looked around the medbay, the order, the brightness. Velocity forced herself to relax and let Ratchet guide her as she sat up.
"Time for a break," he said calmly but his optics scrutinized her.
Velocity sighed with a cycle of her vents. She hung her head and pressed her hands into her lap. "Sorry," she whispered.
"Nothing to be sorry about. You need a break." The medic stepped back; his optics still intently focused on her.
She forced a weak smile across her facial plates, but she couldn't return his stare. She wanted to hide, to curl up and make the world go away. Instead, she scooted to the edge of the berth, intent on hobbling her way to Optimus and continue her vigil. A chartreuse mass blocked her retreat to her mate.
Ratchet gently placed a hand on each arm and stooped to look her in the optic. "Your repairs are healing nicely, but you need to work the joints," he released one arm and held his hand up, finger and thumb a couple of espes apart, "A little bit, not too much. You need to leave medbay and walk around the base. So, go. Refuel. Recharge in your quarters. I promise Optimus will be fine until you return."
So, paternal. So, kind. So, sensible.
"I don't want to do any of those things." She couldn't look the mech in the optics. Guilt gnawed at her and she glanced towards Optimus, who nearly died for her. She wanted to apologize, to prostrate herself and beg forgiveness, but she didn't want anyone to know how weak she had been.
She wondered if he would have risked his life had he known her initial longings for a beautiful, silver mech. Or would he have left her to die on the pristine white sand. She blinked her optic shutters and looked at the floor of the medbay. Optimus should have left her to die, at least then the pain, the fear and the guilt, the wrongness within her would disappear.
She wanted to stay with Optimus in case – incase he onlined – incase he needed something – incase…
Velocity raised her head and looked at Ratchet. "No," she pleaded. She didn't know how to tell him she didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to go forward and casually walk the hallways of her home. Something within her snapped and dug into her thoughts, the turmoil of memories and raw fear, the hurt, the anger at herself, the violation and helplessness. At least here, near Optimus, all of it stayed buried, safely hidden away.
"You need to move that leg. If you don't the gears might seize." He let her go and stepped back, his intent gaze never wavering.
Velocity looked away, but movement snapped her attention back to the green mech. He held out his hand to her.
It took her several minutes to decide to take it. With delicate care, she slid her peds onto the floor. She thought about balking but caved almost immediately. Any argument she made would sound more like a confession, and she didn't deserve atonement.
Powerful hands delicately guided her to the door. "Take a cycle. Walk around, refuel, go to your quarters. Maybe head to the rec room and see what is going on there. I promise Optimus will still be here." He pushed her over the threshold.
Hearing the door behind her hiss shut, Velocity spun to stare at the smooth, blank surface. Panic trickled up her spinal assembly. Trying to compose herself, she rested her head against the cold surface. She contemplated simply going back into medical.
A tonal chime echoed from her right.
The femme glanced at the lock pad. The light flicked from blue to magenta. Ratchet had locked her out.
Velocity turned around and sighed. Looking right, then left, only hollow corridors stretched in both directions. Brightly illuminated and cleared of any clutter or debris, the hallways of her home resembled nothing of the shadowy, garbage strewn expanse of a warehouse in Mexico.
She stepped into the middle of the corridor and tried to decide which way to go. Both directions appeared oddly foreign and simultaneously familiar. A hesitant step and she started to walk one direction. Confusion flared and the red femme turned and headed the other direction, her cautious steps creating almost no noise.
It didn't take long for her injured leg to throb. She limped slowly along, trying to remember the layout of the base.
She turned a corridor and noticed the notes people wrote on the walls. Human level directions scribbled in marker to guide someone along the identical corridors. A flair of satisfaction, she might figure this maze out – with help. Following the arrows and graffiti, she trailed her hand along the wall for support.
Pain pulsed through her leg. She stopped to give herself a few minutes to rest. Perhaps she should head back to medical, but she didn't want to be subjected to anymore of Ratchet's ministrations.
Without using the informal directions, she tried to remember what part of the base lay beyond the corner. Leaning against the wall, Velocity concentrated and struggled to recall the layout of the base. She couldn't, her home for over a year and she couldn't remember. That automatic process guiding her steps around corners and down cross halls when she wanted to go somewhere didn't appear to work. Something had happened to her, something the Decepticons did damaged her. The damage went beyond what could be seen, part of her was missing. And she didn't know what part.
She quickly gave up trying to retrieve a memory she wasn't sure even existed. Bending over, she read the handwritten scribbles. Apparently, she neared the commissary as the warning of "Loud, possible drunk robots" stated. She didn't want to contend with loud, possible drunk robots and limped in the opposite direction.
Halfway down the corridor, the steady thumps of heavy pedfalls announced an approaching mech. Panic crept through Velocity, she looked up and down the passage for a place to hide. Nothing in the expanse of white would camouflage her brilliant coloring.
The volume of the steps increased, and fear froze her. Pain erased any thoughts of a rapid retreat; she couldn't move fast enough to avoid detection. Staring she waited for the intruder to arrive and arrive he did.
When Bumblebee saw her, he paused, optic shutters opening wide. Then he rushed forward and dropped to his knees. The scout wrapped both arms around her middle and laid his helm against her abdomen. The mech whimpered softly.
Velocity stiffened from the mech's touch. Swallowing her dismay, the femme resisted the urge to struggle out of his hold.
His electrical field enveloped her, pulsing softly, momentarily chasing away her hysteria with warm familiarity. A memory surged forward, not her memory but one shared by Optimus. Bumblebee held a special place within Prime's spark, a relationship echoing of the love between a parent and child.
Not knowing what to do, she slipped her arms around his helm and held him against her. She cherished this blaze yellow Autobot and didn't care if the feelings came from Optimus or were her own.
"Hey, Bee," she murmured softly.
Bumblebee pulled away just enough to look up at her. His optics held the fear and grief, he couldn't voice. He squeezed her tighter. Synthesizers filled the air around them, "What will become of us if there's no one to watch over us?"
It took Velocity several seconds before she realized the meaning of the lyrics. She stroked the mech's helm wanting to console his fears. "He will be fine. Everything will be fine." She hoped she hadn't lied.
While being held by this kind mech an idea blossomed. "Bee, you want to help me with something."
XxxX
"Are you fucking kidding me!" Ironhide bellowed, his voice echoing up and down the hall.
Signaling with his hands to decrease the decibels, Prowl answered, "No. The request came through less than a cycle ago."
The medic stayed silent, but his optics narrowed with wary skepticism.
The three Autobots huddled outside medical, away from the audios of a Prime who might online, if even for an astrosecond, and hear their discussion.
Ironhide crossed his massive arms over his chest. "Let that piece of pit-shit die in the desert," He announced in slightly reduced volume.
Prowl blinked and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Spending time around humans had not improved the old mech's linguistic skills, just added a wider vocabulary. "He has requested political asylum."
Ratchet stepped back to lean his mass against the wall, still watching in silence.
The tactician continued, "Hardcore has offered information to secure his safety."
Grumbling to himself, the weapons specialist pointed out, "I guess the 'Con can have an 'accident' after he tells us everything he knows."
Blinking in shock, the medic stepped forward and finally spoke, "Honoring the request for sanctuary has always been one of our oldest covenants. To harm anyone seeking safety is the lowest form of betrayal. It is one of the things that separates us from the Decepticons. I can't believe you would even consider such a thing."
Ironhide simply shrugged. "Ancient edicts are nice, but they don't get wars won. Interrogate and terminate."
The medic shook his head in disgust, then turned to the SIC, ignoring Ironhide. "And what is the Decepticon's condition?"
"Nearly slagged," quipped Prowl.
Ratchet turned and poked the black mech in the chest. "I refuse to repair him, only to have you execute him." Then he spun on the tactician, stabbing the air with a finger, "He will not be in medical with Optimus - ever. I am going on the record as voting against this asinine idea, and it is going to fall apart. There are too many variables, you should understand this."
The SIC cycled his vents in a sigh, frustration rolled off him. He shifted his weight. "Hardcore will be confined to a room in one of the communal pods. That is two security doors as a buffer, and around the clock guard. As far as repairing him, just stabilize, then remove his weapons and communications array. I want him weak and vulnerable."
Rubbing both temples with his fingers, Ratchet stated, "He can still be dangerous. This will go badly."
Ironhide snorted, "We need the intel. We're sitting blind and the humans won't let us off the base. If the Con even blinks wrong, I'm slitting his main energon line. You're out voted Ratchet."
XxxX
Alone in her quarters with a ration of energon in hand, Velocity carefully sipped the fuel. Not only had Bumblebee escorted her here, but happily gone and fetched fuel for her. It took her considerable effort the convince the charismatic mech she didn't need anything else. Now, with nothing but silence and her thoughts she wondered if she shouldn't have let him stay.
Looking around Optimus's office, she noticed scratches along the walls and debris on the floor. His workstation appeared to have tumbled down a hill and miraculously remained intact. Velocity trailed a hand along the surface, feeling the grooves and pits marring the finish. Unease tickled along her spinal assembly. Brow arches pressed together in a frown, she didn't remember the desk, being so – distressed. But she didn't remember it not being distressed. So many things she couldn't recall.
Taking another sip, she stepped around the desk, her ped falls nearly silent.
Stopping in front of the door at the back of the room, the femme tapped an eight-digit code into the keypad. The light flicked from magenta to blue. She smiled sadly to herself. "At least I remember that," she stated to no one. Optimus had set the code, and only they would ever know what it meant, and something no Cybertronian possesses - her birthday.
The door opened, sliding into a gap in the wall. Darkness loomed beyond, stopping at the threshold. Velocity brought up the lighting to fade the blackness to a soft grey before she entered the rest of her home.
Standing in the hallway that connected the four rooms, she contemplated the spartan lifestyle of the Autobots. Four simple rooms for the ruler of a planet. She stared at each door and attempted to recall what lie beyond. The one nearest to her, she didn't remember. It didn't stir any emotions. Curiously, she opened the door and stepped in.
Taking another sip, she waited for the lights to activate. When they came on, she almost spit out the energon. The room held nothing but destruction. She carefully took another sip and let her optics take in the chaos. Impacts splintered the walls and chunks of debris lays scattered about.
"That can't be right," she mumbled.
She stepped backwards and shut the door. She didn't remember a room in her home being a total disaster. She decided, solving that particular mystery sat very low in her list. Turning, she walked down the hallway to the next room.
Looking at the blank surface, the tingle of a memory wormed through her processor. This was her space. Opening the door and activating the lights, a workshop greeted her. Rows of tools lined a wall; stacks of sheet metal lined another. In the center of it all, a sleek, metal antelope reared on back legs. Nearly finished, the beast sat frozen in mid leap.
A soft smile played along her face, then faded. She remembered this but didn't have any desire to continue the sculpture. Maybe one day. Maybe never. Leaving the room, she locked the door behind her. And headed towards the room at the end of the hallway.
She stopped at the door, emotions roiled within her, stalling her progress. Beyond lay the heart of their home. the private sanctuary they retreated to when they needed to recharge or simply avoid watchful others. Beyond this door, Optimus dropped the mantle of Prime and they laid themselves bare to each other. She didn't want to go in, this room held too much, and Optimus wouldn't be there with her.
She rested her helm against the cool door, the cube of energon dangling from her fingertips. Sighing deeply, she steeled herself, and straightened. Still holding the cube, she used one finger to enter her code.
The door opened and the lights illuminated the space.
Entering, memories rolled through her. To the left, a small table and two stools. Above that a large monitor for accessing Teletraan or watching TV. To the right, a row of shelves holding data pads and random objects Optimus had collected. In the furthest corner from the door, an over sized bunk designed for two.
It felt false. A space not connected to this world, an illusion soon to evaporate.
She sat the half finished energon on the table and walked towards the shelves. A pair of broken glasses glittered in the artificial lighting. She picked them up and watched tiny sparkles play along the fractured lenses. Velocity quickly returned them to their original place before they became smoke and disappeared. On another shelf, a nautilus shell and other organic artifacts silently collected dust. The picture of a dew covered spiderweb, its anchor strands disappearing off the page, sat propped into place by a length of cholla wood.
Short steps took her to her bunk. She sat on the edge, dangling her legs. Curling her hands into her lap, she looked around her. Everything appeared solid and safe, but she wondered if she could peel it back and find the death and squalor of an abandoned warehouse. She reached out and picked at the edge of the bunk, just to make sure.
Stopping the ridiculous behavior, the femme scooted back. Stretching out her legs, she rubbed her sore knee. Her whole body ached. Laying back, she realized sitting on a stool and slumping over Optimus's repair bunk left her stiff and miserable.
Velocity rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. A command darkened the lights. She shuttered her optics and drifted off to sleep.
XxxX
A sound tore her out of a deep sleep.
Velocity slowly pushed herself up. Propped on her arms, she squinted into the darkness. The shadows didn't show her their secrets. Waiting several seconds more, she decided nothing threatened her in the solitude of her quarters.
Laying back, the femme shuttered her optics. Just before sleep claimed her again, the soft whisper of metal scraping across metal shattered the silence.
Her optics snapped open and she froze. With audios straining, she listened.
Again, the scrape whispered.
"Hello?" Velocity called.
A shadow darker that black moved.
"Lights on," The femme commanded. The room remained impenetrably dark.
It slithered towards her, out of the darkness, like a snake from underneath a curtain, pulsing with a soft glow and dripping with mucus. Two pincher hooks, where the head should be, snapped and clacked together. Another one materialized beside the first, and they both slowly crept towards her.
Velocity knew these grotesque serpents; Soundwave pierced her metal body with them and raped her mind.
Scrambling backwards she pinned herself in the corner of her bunk, walls blocked further retreat. She contemplated running towards the door, but the ever-advancing snakes blocked her escape.
Two more had joined the pack, as the first one rose above the edge of her bunk. It turned blindly, seeking her out. Before it could strike, she kicked at it, talons extended. She wasn't even sure she made contact when it fell apart and evaporated.
More of the slimy worms reared above her. They hissed and struck, only to retreat without making contact.
Her pump raced within her chest, threatening to explode out of her armor. Surrounded and pinned down, Velocity refused to endure them spilling through her body, and taking her thoughts. Her blade sprung forward, a forgotten weapon she still possessed. Swinging blindly, she sliced through several of the serpents, but even more came.
Leaping to her feet, she swung again and again. Some of the snakes offered resistance, but most vanished in a swirl of ash and dust.
Pain exploded through her leg and up her back. She collapsed, unable to balance. Looking around, she saw one of the worms had attached itself to her healing leg and chewed a hole in her armor.
She stabbed at the abomination, but it had already stolen her thoughts and knew her intentions. Letting her go, the snake reared back. It pulsed brighter after its scant meal, clacking its pinchers in victory.
Fear nearly froze her to the spot, but rage hurled her into action. She stabbed again and again at the serpent. Her blade missed by inches as it dodged.
She roared in anger.
It hissed in defiance.
One final thrust and her blade hit, burrowing itself deep into the wriggling mass. The snake whipped erratically, but she held tight. One more strike and she could kill it, but her sword wouldn't pull free.
Velocity refused to release her blade, and the worm refused to die from its wound. She needed to stab it again. It needed to suffer for what it had done to her. She heaved with everything she had, and the blade yanked free. Her backward momentum carried her off the bunk and slammed her into the floor.
Cycling rapidly, the femme waited for the worms to coil around her and rip her apart. They never came. Laying in a crumpled mess, she glanced around the room. No worms. The cube of energon gave off enough light for her sensitive optics to make out the lines of familiar furniture and shelves.
"Li – lights on," she croaked.
The lights bid her command and flooded the room, chasing away shadows.
She untangled herself but stayed sitting on the floor. Cross-legged, she rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Tremors jerked randomly over her body, and she feared to sheath her sword. The blade lay beside her, a quick grab if the snakes returned in the light. The rational part of her knew they wouldn't, but…
"Fuck," she stated flatly. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
Velocity checked the chronometer. Only an hour had passed since she laid down. "FUCK!" the explicative echoed around her.
Pulling herself to an unbalanced stand she picked up her blade but kept it at ready. Ghostly images of the nightmare still haunted her processor. Anger simmered from within her. Anger at the pain, and the fear. Anger from blaming herself for Optimus.
Sitting on the floor, the bunk blocked the damage from her view. Standing, the slash marks along one wall stood out. A deep gouge had removed a chunk of the composite façade that covered rock. She sighed. Holding up her blade, she scrutinized the edges for nicks or dings. Finally, she stowed it away.
Velocity choked her anger. She swallowed the heat and vile emotions and they burned like bile down her throat. A nightmare didn't deserve her wrath, and that was all it was. A simple nightmare, she had endured them before and would do so in the future. Labeling the horror allowed her to compartmentalize and pack away her emotions.
Her leg shook with the remaining surges of energy from trying to fight, and pulses of pain. Hobbling to one of the chairs, she wondered if she reinjured herself.
This place no longer felt like home. Staying within these empty rooms wouldn't console her, it wouldn't heal her. These rooms offered nothing but silence and nightmares. Familiar walls didn't offer the peace and sanctuary she expected.
Tired and worn, she slowly stood. Resting a hand on the table she made sure she had adequate balance before limping out of the room.
Stopping, she turned and retreated to the shelves. Lifting a data pad, the femme activated it as she left her chambers. The short walk to Optimus's work area offered her enough time to pull up the schematics for the base. Pausing to rest, Velocity leaned against the desk. A few minutes more and the femme mapped the most direct route to medbay. A small victory, but she couldn't rely on this for long. She had to relearn her home.
Cautiously, putting weight on her healing leg, she shuffled towards the exit. Entering the hallway, she sent a command to lower the lights and lock the door. Velocity had no intentions to return to those empty chambers, not without her mate anyways. She needed to stay with him and didn't care what Ratchet had to say about it.
Pulses of pain increased in frequency and intensity with every step. Exhaustion drained her and her limp became more pronounced. The femme wondered if she had overexerted herself. Leaning against the wall, allowed Velocity to take some weight off her leg and check her position on the map. Still on the correct path.
Raucous laughter echoed off the sterile walls and drifted towards her. Velocity's facial plates sank into a deep frown, the sounds didn't lift her spirits as the once would have. She wondered how anyone could find joy in the world.
Double checking her map, Velocity realized she would have to pass by the noisy, happy mechs and humans. She didn't want to deal with anyone, she didn't have the energy for anymore fake pleasantries or spark-felt sympathy. A small detour would take her around the merry makers, and no one would be wiser to her presence.
Pulling away from the wall, Velocity backtracked a short distance to an intersection. She took a side corridor and moved parallel to her original route.
Everything around her looked the same, but the guffaws and hoots of laughter became muffled and distant. Her frame eased and loosened, letting go of the tension she didn't realize had wrapped around her. A deep sigh cycled her vents.
Making it to the next intersection, the booming voices increased in volume. Velocity quickly limped through the open area and into another long hallway. The acoustics of the base carried sounds for long distances or muffled them nearly completely. She contemplated this oddity, and couldn't decide if it was intentional or a byproduct of the staggered intersections. As she walked, the femme adjusted the map to show the entire subterranean base. A tight smile tipped a corner of her mouth, someone had designed the base in a spider's web of staggered radials and interconnecting hallways. Except, the architect didn't follow nature exactly, no corridors stretched the full length or breadth of the base.
That realization helped Velocity. Now, she had to remember where on the web everything was located.
Not looking at the data pad, the femme hobbled to the next intersection, a tiny flicker of confidence beginning to glow within her. Two more intersections up, then left, marked the halfway point to medical.
A soft tingle along her electrical field alerted her to the presence before someone shoved her into the wall.
Velocity yelped in surprise and dropped her data pad. Spinning to her attacker, glass crunched under her peds.
Mirage lorded over her, his thin frame blocking her retreat. Crystal blue glowed at her from narrowed shutters, and loathing crackled from his energy field, nearly suffocating her with its intensity.
Pressed against the wall, Velocity didn't want to further enrage the mech. She dropped her gaze first but kept him within her peripheral sight.
"You don't deserve him," the Autobot snarled through clinched dental plates.
Her pump pounded wildly within her chest, as small tremors twitched along her hypercoils. "What?" Velocity finally stammered, quickly glancing at Mirage, then looking away again.
He closed the short distance between them, his armor brushing against hers. "I said, 'you don't deserve the Prime'. His fist punched the wall next to her helm.
The impact startled her. Velocity ducked and lunged sideways, a desperate attempt to flee. Her healing leg couldn't support the torsion or weight, pain seared from hip to ped. She collapsed in an uncontrolled heap, bouncing her chin off the floor. Rattled and disoriented, the femme's only focus involved getting away. Pulling with her arms, she dragged herself away from the hostile mech.
Around Velocity, the white walls darkened, and trash appeared within the corridor. A moan crawled out of her vocals and she teetered between the present and past.
Hands gripped her armor. The mech lifted her off the floor and slammed her face first into a wall. Her gyros spun erratically in dizzying directions. Only the metal body pressed against her, held her upright. Velocity cycled her vents with short, panicked gulps.
Mirage's facial components brushed along her audio as his cold, precisely articulated words hissed, "Because of you, we nearly lost him."
"I'm sorry," the femme whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She pleaded over and over, in a tumbling mantra. She shuttered her optics as the walls darkened again, afraid a silver mech would materialize and drag her back to the torture, back to the black demon that sucked at her thoughts.
"You should be sorry." Mirage's clipped words pulled Velocity from the past.
She opened her optic shutters to the garishly bright hallway, her cheek still pressed painfully against a white wall. "I wish it had been me," Velocity blurted out. "I wish it had been me instead of him. I would take his place if I could, I would give my life if I had to," the truth tumbled out of her. Words she hadn't said, even to herself, vomited out for everyone to hear and judge.
Metal groaned within her, and warnings flashed on her HUD as Mirage pressed harder, grinding her into the wall. "You are so stupid," he bit the words at her. "Death is a luxury you no longer have. No matter what. No matter how. No matter the pain, or the torture. No matter the cost to others, you must survive. You have to always survive, because if you die, he dies."
A soft tap of metal against metal silenced the mech.
An Earth second later, the weight pinning her disappeared, freeing her.
Velocity slid down the wall, her hands scraping for purchase to slow herself. She found none and her knees impacted loudly on the floor. Afraid of what Mirage intended next, the femme twisted awkwardly and landed on her aft, her legs tucked under her.
Mirage had backed away, his hands open and held out to his sides. Sunstreaker stood an arm's length away from the white and blue aristocrat. The warrior pointed a blaster at Mirage's head.
"That is enough," the yellow twin stated flatly.
For his part, Mirage appeared more annoyed than worried. His sphinx like features inscrutable as he tipped his helm away from the gun and looked towards the other mech.
The two Autobots exchanged long, silent stares. Finally, Mirage looked away first. The vanquished mech turned and left.
Velocity looked up at her rescuer. "Thank you," she offered.
He stowed his weapon while watching Mirage retreat. Glacial optics turned to her, their scrutiny left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. The golden mech didn't offer warmth or sympathy. Staring down at her, Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest. "You need to deal with him," he admonished. "He will never respect you, so he must fear you." Turning to leave her in the hallway, he looked back and pointed out, "Oh, and go clean yourself."
XxxX
Ratchet sat the half-full energon ration back on the desk.
Turning, the medic rested his hands on his hips and glanced around the room. Nothing appeared amiss, except the slice marks in the wall above the recharge bunk.
The old medic exhaled in a deep cycle. He came searching for Velocity when she didn't make her way back to medical. Typically, when one bondmate is injured, the other one cannot tolerate separation for long. But Velocity wasn't typical in any aspect. Apparently, the femme chose to return to her quarters, attack a wall, and leave again.
Before he had a few concerns about the femme's emotional state. Now, he had a lot of concerns.
He called his partner, ::'Jack, I am missing a patient.::
A groan echoed over the line.
XxxX
Authors Notes:
The world is temporarily cancelled due to a plague, so I get to stay home and try to entertain myself. As we near the end of HOTF, the beginnings of Part III in the Full Velocity series are forming. OK, I have the general outline completed. Not sure if it will ever be written, but it does exist, if only in my mind.
Thank you to all who continue to read this and my other works. It is for you that I continue to write. Thank you to all those who comment and those that don't y'all are all important to me.
I want everyone to stay safe and wash your hands.
Bumblebee's song is Tomorrow Never Comes by VNV Nation.
