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 or whatever follows fic.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own in this work of complete fiction is Velocity/Sira and Hardcore. They are mine. Everything else is copyrighted and owned by some really rich people. I make no money from this but wish I could.
XxxX
Full Velocity: Finding Salvation
Chapter 31: Restraint
XxxX.
Cooling fans worked overtime, regulating her body temperature as she sucked massive quantities of air through her vents. Sira should have been exhausted and sore, but the rush from tapping into her power left her giddy and euphoric. Every wire, every bolt, every gear, every diode, every router, every - everything in her body hummed with potential. For a fleeting second, before she thrust part of that power into Ironhide, she knew how every part of her body functioned in relation to every other part. This understanding had nothing to do with mechanics or engineering. It was an instinctive knowledge, a visceral cognizance: something that could not be explained.
This surge produced a hyperawareness of herself and everything around her. She did not have to touch the others, only be in their presence to read their electrical fields like short, simple books. She felt the power and devotion of Ironhide's spark and understood immediately he belonged to another, seeing the link with a sense she could not name. Optimus's compassion, strength, and gentleness could not cover the great, hollow wounds he suffered from losing his mate. She had felt like a voyeur peeking behind sacred curtains. They did not know she could see them like this, and they had not offered to share that part of themselves with her. She Shuttered her optics to block them out.
Now, she lay on the hard floor, trying to collect herself. The rush, the high felt amazing. It dulled her pain and washed away any fears. Nothing should feel this good, and that meant coming down would be a bitch. She hoped it did not promise a screaming migraine later. As her thoughts slowly flittered and frolicked in her head, she wondered how much power she pulled; this metal body sucked it in like a sponge. Later she would try and figure out what that meant, but right now, she preferred to float along without leaving the floor.
Subtle vibrations interrupted her buzz; as a large mech moved towards her. Popping her optics shutters open, she watched the Prime approach. A lopsided grin pulled at her facial plates. "Hi, big guy. You are really tall."
Optimus raised a brow arch and knelt beside her. He reached towards her, then pulled his hand away. "Sira, you have sustained injuries."
His concern slipped the smile from her face, dampening her inebriation. Leaving her comfy spot, Sira sat up. Reaching up, she touched the side of Optimus's face with her hand, and a shudder ran along his frame. She pulled away, not wanting to inadvertently zap him too.
"I'll live. Just let me sit here a bit longer. I don't think I could pass a Field Sobriety test right now." A giggle escaped her vocal processors and blossomed into uncontrolled snickering. The idea of an actual car getting a DUI became the funniest thing - ever. Later, she might feel humiliated for her behavior, but that would be later. Right now, a drunk car was fucking hysterical.
Sira did not struggle when Optimus scooped her up in his arms. The fast movement made the room spin, and she wondered if she suffered more than dents and scrapes. Shuttering her optics, she buried her face in Prime's chest. Along with the slow, steady thrum of his pump, she could hear a deep rumbling sound. It reminded her of contented purrs.
XxxX.
Simmons sat at the cheap pressboard and laminate table in his hotel room. He clicked the button on top of his pen. Click, the cheap rollerball tip appeared. Click, it disappeared.
Click, it appeared.
He had yet to receive any information on the new girl-bot in town.
Click, it disappeared.
So far, Prime had been open, forthcoming, and cooperative with information on any new arrivals.
Click, it appeared.
The aliens seemingly accepted their temporary house arrest without complaint.
Click, it disappeared.
Ratchet politely offered to sit him down and explain things.
Simmons sat straighter in the uncomfortable chair.
Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclick.
The Autobots were hiding something. Something big.
Tossing the pen aside, he reached behind him and grabbed his cell phone. Punching a number from memory, he waited for the connection to go through.
"Tom. I'm not gonna make it back for a couple more days. As soon as the military boys clear out, I need to have a one-on-one chat with the Big Guy." He paused. "I think the neighbors might be ignoring the HOA covenant. I'll call you when I find something out."
He snapped the phone shut and tossed it back onto the lumpy hotel bed. The more he thought about it, the more his instincts screamed at him. The aliens were covering up something.
XxxX.
Optimus leaned against the door frame to Sira's room, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Ironhide flanked him from the hallway. Both mechs watched Ratchet examine Sira.
Ratchet spoke softly as he tended to his patient. Gentle hands manipulated armor panels and joints. He checked her hands, slowly bending each finger and staring at the tips. Releasing her hand, the CMO turned towards Prime. "She is fine. Dented, scraped, her fingertips show thermal damage, and she is over-energized but fine. Her repair systems should take care of everything."
"Over-energized, how?" asked the Autobot commander.
Ratchet patted his patient on the knee. "I am not one hundred percent sure, but I have a couple of theories."
"What's over-energized," Sira asked with as much concern as she could muster before she slumped gracelessly sideways, her legs hanging off the edge of the bunk.
The CMO turned back to the femme lying beside him. "It is a Cybertronian condition not unlike intoxication in organics."
"Ah, that feels about right." She pulled her dangling legs near her chest as armor plates sagged lazily, obviously she began the downhill ride to sobriety.
"I want to know why I get melted circuits and she gets drunk," Ironhide growled from the corridor.
"I would like an answer to that question too." Optimus requested.
Ratchet nudged the femme, disrupting her drunken catatonia. "Sira, do you know where your -ability comes from? How it works?"
Blinking repeatedly, it took Sira a few astroseconds to process the medic's words. "I don't know." Optimus noticed the subtle tightening of scarlet plates.
Ratchet sent a reassuring smile towards the femme before he asked his next question. "Can you explain how you access your ability?"
"Nope." Sira shuttered her optics, clearly no longer in a cooperative mood.
Shifting his weight, Optimus frowned. "Sira, this is important," he admonished.
An exaggerated suffering sigh hissed from the femme. Opening her optic shutters, Sira rolled onto her back. Wedging her peds behind Ratchet's aft, the femme draped an arm over her optics. "I don't know how I do what I do. I feel the energy, the energy of life, the energy in storms, the energy coming from deep within the Earth, the energy from within your sparks. I can funnel that energy into whatever object I want, but metal is the easiest. It's conductive and receptive."
"Oi! I ain't receptive," argued Ironhide from his place in the hall.
A frown tightened her facial plates, and Sira turned towards the wall.
"Continue," encouraged Prime, as he wondered what connections her thoughts just made.
Barely above a whisper, Sira softly confessed, "No, but I will tell you, I can force my way into you." Flipping onto her side, the femme drew herself into a ball. Hands hiding her face, she mumbled, "I forced my way into Barricade to protect myself, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough."
Optimus exchanged a look with his CMO, and signaled a coded gesture to stop the interrogation. Instead, Ratchet plowed ahead. "If you don't use all of the energy, what happened to it? Before – when you were - organic?"
A twitch jerked the Sira's frame, then she stilled, but only for a moment. A ped began to wiggle and tap, an outlet for pent-up energy or uncomfortable emotions. Tension pressed around them before she spoke. "Before, I couldn't keep it for very long." Her arms and the wall she faced muffled her voice slightly.
"And now?" Ratchet pressed. "After you attacked Ironhide, what happened to the energy?"
Slowly, with unsure movements, Sira uncovered her face and looked at Ratchet. "I don't know, but I felt giddy, like everything was too bright and sideways." She turned back to the wall, and from his place, Optimus could see the steady emerald glow of her optics. She did not rest; she stared, most likely in deep thought.
Ratchet leaned forward and placed an elbow on each knee. He stared at the femme curled on the bunk next to him. "I have an idea, but without tests, I can't be sure. I think your organic body couldn't hold the energy, so it leeched out rather quickly.
"Now, you have a metal form that can, and does, utilize energy. I am guessing that the unused portion went straight into your systems and in effect over-energized you."
"What does that mean for me?" Sira asked.
"Well, I don't know yet. I would suggest not using this energy until we understand how it could affect you. In the meantime, get some rest." He patted her leg and stood.
Optimus stepped out of the way as Ratchet passed through the doorway. From the hallway Ironhide offered his condolences, "Have fun with your overcharge femme."
Optimus shot Ironhide a glacial glare that would have withered most, but only pulled a lascivious chuckle from his oldest friend.
XxxX.
Sira sat cross-legged on Prime's recharge bunk, a familiar book rested in her hand. Optimus reclined at the small table across the room; his long legs stretched out in front of him, and contentment relaxed his features.
Ratchet left her alone with Optimus. She could not see him, her face buried against the wall, but she could feel his optics on her. He stood there, the soft whirs of gears reminding her of his presence. Finally, he said, "Come with me."
Had someone suggested reading aloud to unwind, she would have laughed in condescending hysterics. Reading to yourself offered a great way to relax, but reading aloud was the torture sanctioned by satanic Literature teachers since antiquity. Weirdly, it proved the perfect distraction.
The longer she read, the more relaxed and open her companion became. The powerful emotions that had earlier rolled off Optimus faded like clouds in the noontime sky. The more relaxed her audience of one became, the harder she tried to entertain him. She gestured, giving different characters different voices, offering him more than a monotone string of words. Occasionally, the mech rewarded her efforts with a wry smile.
"'But how, from the viewpoint of a Martian, did man differ from all the other animals? Would a race that could levitate be impressed with engineering? If so, would the Aswan Dam, or a thousand miles of coral reef, win first prize? Man's self-awareness? Sheer conceit, there was no way to prove that sperm whales or sequoias were not philosophers and poets exceeding any human merit.'" Sira glanced at her companion. "Personally, I'm not sure I would want to hear tree poetry. And what, Oh Great- Leader-of-a-Super-Advanced-Alien-Race, is the difference between humankind and all the animals of the Earth?" She closed the book and waited for his response.
Prime steepled his fingers and remained quiet.
"Come on, Big Guy, what're your thoughts on the subject? Don't worry about offending me. I'm a - well, not human. I don't regard humans as highly as they regard themselves. And don't give me the politically correct, all Primey, love the universe answer. I want to hear what you think."
The Prime cocked his head to the side and raised a brow arch. "Cybertron did not have a good history with sentient organics before arriving on Earth. Most organics were seen as inferior, almost animalistic in their behaviors and responses. Humans have proven the fallacy of the long-held prejudices." Optimus confessed.
"If it helps, I never met a sentient toaster," she quipped.
Optimus ignored her glib remark and continued. "For a time, I did not think that my viewpoints were different from any other mech, not as severe or xenophobic, but not very different. I had been wrong to think I aligned with the widely accepted views on organics. Even before the Matrix forced me to look within myself, I realized I disagreed with the status quo, nor could I justify the rationale behind it. Once I became the Prime, I had to change things, but I also had to balance my own beliefs against the beliefs of a populace I was chosen to lead."
Sira crossed her legs, then rested her elbows on her knees. "So basically, you, a subversive radical, were chosen to lead a closed-minded, stagnant race?"
"I have never considered myself a 'subversive radical,'" he retorted with a small amount of indignation, and glanced at something more interesting on the blank wall.
"Yep and most people don't consider Jesus Christ or Martin Luther: original or King Jr., subversive radicals either, but they were. Anyone who attempts to question and change the status quo is radical. If they succeed, then they are a hero. If they fail, then they are a villain. Tell me this, were you successful? Did you make the changes you sat out to accomplish?"
The mech sat in brooding silence for a few seconds before answering her question. "Yes, we were able to start changing enough viewpoints to make a difference."
"Well, then you did well. Also, this conversation is killing my mood." Raising her arms over her head, Sira arched her back in a languid, feline stretch.
Snapping back to a more normal sitting position, she noticed the bright, azure optics roving over her frame. Heat slid through her, and embarrassment forced her to look away. Suddenly, she needed to leave.
"I think I'll call it a night, or perhaps a morning." Unwrapping her legs from their bent position, Sira slipped off the bunk. Turning away from Optimus, she replaced the book to its rightful spot on the shelf.
From behind her, Optimus asked, "Sira, do you - are you going to be able to power down enough to recharge?"
She shrugged and turned around. The Prime had not moved from his place in the chair or shifted positions, but tense alertness whipped around him. A forced lightness lifted her words. "I don't know, but I have to try. If it doesn't work, I'll give you a call."
Prime nodded in understanding.
Sira resolved not to call on him.
XxxX.
The military left, and most of the reporters quickly followed suit. Without anything shocking or disturbing to drag across millions of TV screens, the media had to look elsewhere for carnage to sensationalize. That was perfectly acceptable with Optimus Prime.
He waited for the long shadows of the late day to fade into darkness. He and his Autobots intended to sweep Tranquility during the dark hours, ensuring the Decepticons left the area. If he had his way, they would extend the sensor array to include the city and beyond. The government denied his request under the auspicious phrase, "The possible infringement of citizens' privacy." His explanation that the sensors couldn't tell one human from another or any other organic species of similar size was met with open skepticism. Apparently, the government officials could not believe Cybertronian technology had such mundane limitations.
At the end of the conference call, only he and Secretary Keller remained on the line. The human talked about the upcoming election and how the Autobots needed to establish relationships with new officials and a new administration if the current President lost. Optimus studied and understood the odd tradition of this country's elections and frequent leadership changes. What he did not understand was why the SecDef needed to discuss this topic. "What is this about?" he finally asked.
Silence crackled across the communications connection. Finally, Secretary Keller responded, "Some times it is easier to ask for forgiveness than receive permission."
Optimus decided not to mention his plans for this evening.
As the day waned away and magenta washed across the sky, the Prime stood in the shadows of the control tower. Turning away from the warning in the sky, he surveyed his mechs. All but one had gathered on the broken tarmac and awaited orders. Apprehension itched through his circuits; he knew the devastation Seekers could rain from above. A glance upward, and Optimus chided himself on his paranoia. Wheeljack had assured him the modified sensor array would detect anything larger than a hawk before it crossed into their territory. Still, it never hurt to have his optics skyward. Sensors could fail.
The sharp ring of metal crashing into metal snapped his helm towards the sound. Sira lay in the dirt as Bumblebee stalked a wide circle around her. The scout rolled his shoulders, loosening the gears. Ironhide shouted sparring instructions as Sira offered her middle finger in retort.
"I have decided that you will never be able to take her before the Council. The last thing you need is her flipping them off and yelling 'frog fuckers'," Ratchet commented.
Optimus looked down where the medic sat on the dusty Earth next to Wheeljack. Their shoulders brushed against each other as they programmed a stack of datapads.
Thoughts of the femme snarling creative obscenities at the pompous and bombastic council members offered Optimus a brief, hedonistic pleasure. "I doubt they would comprehend any references she made to fornication with amphibians," he replied. Wheeljack's chuckles floated on the breeze.
This rare peacefulness pushed away the realities of the war; those horrors became dark specters far on the horizon. Earth had given them a respite from the madness and chaos that consumed their lives for so long. This taste of quietness made him want to end the violence. Glancing at the pair seated nearby, Optimus realized how rarely he witnessed open affection between the two. Wheeljack caressed his bonded's leg, while the other showed him something on a datapad. A melancholy mix of fondness, envy, and longing pulsed within Optimus's spark. War had taught them to keep their relationships secretive; killing a bondmate killed the target.
A flash of movement drew Prime's attention back to the lessons on the runway. Sira crouched low; her optics focused on Bumblebee's movements. The late-day colors set Sira's copper and red armor ablaze. Optimus watched as she charged at the scout and launched herself into the air. She landed high on the mech and grabbed 'Bee by the facial plates. Her momentum spun him around, and they both went down in a heap. They repeated the same attack several times. Once 'Bee sidestepped and tried to grab the femme in midair and missed. Sira landed, rolled, and came up on two feet. The yellow mech charged after her, and the chase began. The training turned into an impromptu game of tag as the two dodged and followed each other around the airport.
Ironhide walked towards Optimus, shaking his head. "Kids," the veteran said as a way of explanation.
"How is she doing?" Prime asked. He watched Bumblebee tackle the femme. The two wrestled before the scout threw her off and chased her out of sight behind the hanger.
Ironhide shook his head again. "Those high-velocity attacks are brutal. She can easily topple a mech my size, and once she has weapons at her disposal, I doubt a Decepticon would get back up. I know you disapprove, but she is at a distinct disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat. The faster she can deactivate an opponent, the longer she will survive. I want to begin upgrading her with weapons."
Optimus refused to look at his friend, grinding his dental plates together. He did not want Sira to experience the war; she did not deserve the crushing weight of genocide and carnage. Except war was a reality of their lives. They all had to know how to fight for survival, and the enemy would not show her mercy or spare her innocence. After long seconds, Prime nodded silent permission. "What do you want to upgrade first?"
His friend's answer surprised him. "The claws."
Before he could comment, one of the data pads emitted a series of loud beeps. Wheeljack tossed the digital tablets around until he found the offending device. Holding it tightly, the engineer began tapping away. "Hey, it worked," he squawked in surprise; more seriously, he said, "Sir. There is a single vehicle on county road Fifty-Two, and it is headed this way."
"I'll go." Sunstreaker slipped out of the hanger's shadow. The fading light did not soften the mech's expression, just the opposite; deepening shadows accentuated his permanent frown and added to his feral mean.
Optimus nodded. "It may be an ally," he cautioned.
XxxX
Author's Notes: Sorry for the late update. My boss had me working on grant applications, then sent me to training at the last minute, then a random catastrophe, then a disaster, then another meeting, then another report, then we were short staffed – the usual adulting.
Thank you to everyone reading and following along.
d8rkforcen1ght7 I did change the teasing, and Sira's chatting to herself. Also, I tried to give Wheeljack more cohesive actions and dialogue. LOL, and Sira is catlike, but she does enjoy baths. ^^