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 A.U. 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 35: Shadows

The mech laughed and raised his cannon; he did not aim at her; he aimed above her. Several small missiles shot past. Thunderous booms overloaded her audios as explosions shattered the thick windows of Central Ops. Sira covered her head with her arms to protect herself from shards of hot glass and fire that rained down.

The next volley decimated the nerve center of the base. More explosions shook the ground. A voice in her head screamed for her to move, to run, but panic locked her in place; she forgot how to move this metal body. As the squelch in her audios subsided, she heard the electrical hum of the base sputter and die. Darkness engulfed her. The immediate silence that followed accentuated the rapid wheezing of her vents.

The Decepticon spoke to her in Cybertronian. A series of soft lights on his frame bathed her in a warm glow.

Glancing up, Sira realized how close the mech had moved towards her as he reached out to snatch her off the ground. She threw herself to the side and scrambled to her peds. The loose glass around her crunched under her weight and denied her firm traction, but it did not help the mech either. She had been designed for speed and agility, and he had not. It only took her a few seconds to clear the central hub and leave the Decepticon in the dark.

She heard the shots as the corridor around her lit up in a brilliant, blinding light. Heat seared her paint as it crackled and melted nearby walls. The Decepticon missed, but she doubted he would do so again.

At the next intersection, she took a left, skittering gracelessly around a corner. She sprinted the short cross-hall and took a right, trying to stay parallel to the intruder. Pressing her back to the wall, she activated her Heads-Up Display. 'Bee had taught her how to use base monitors to track individual Autobots, and Sira figured it would work for a Decepticon too. Nothing. Her HUD only showed information about her energon levels and general wellbeing. At least it did not tell her the ambient temperature. She turned off the display.

Two turns separated her from the Decepticon. Cocking her head, she listened. Cautious pedfalls echoed softly along the corridors as he crept through the darkness. She gaged his distance, maybe at the intersection where she took the first turn. Sira resisted the urge to slip deeper into the base, fearful of losing track of the Decepticon. If she knew the intruder's location, he could not sneak up on her, at least in theory.

Dropping low to the ground, Sira took a dangerous gamble. She peeked around the corner. The mech stood at the juncture; his optics glowed in her direction. A low hum reverberated throughout the base, and the backup generators kicked on. Safety lights flickered, bathing the halls in a chiaroscuro of dim light and inky black shadows.

The Decepticon saw her before she could duck behind the corner. Jumping to her feet, Sira expected the mech to charge after her. He did not. He started talking. His Cybertronian words echoed around her, singsongy and saccharine sweet with a biting edge. She had no idea what he said and didn't care; the tone alone sent shivers along her neural conduits.

Sliding along the wall, Sira silently made her way to a nearby juncture, her acute audios picking up the subtle thuds of pedfalls timed with his words. Not bold and foolhardy enough to charge her, this Decepticon fought with his processor and carefully stalked her.

The backup generators whined, then died. Blackness, solid and impenetrable, crashed around her again. Sira blindly ran to the next intersection and bounced off a wall. Feeling her way, she took cover around a corner.

Now, the Decepticon sang some warbling ballad in Cybertronian, his voice loud and clear, began to grate on her. "Oh, just shut the fuck up!" she yelled. Realizing her mistake, Sira jogged deeper into the labyrinth-like hallways.

The generators groaned on again. The security lights flickered, their output no more than candles with impenetrable shadows pooled between. Barely enough to see by, even for a mechanoid.

The mech's quick pedfalls thundered through the sterile twilight as he moved to her previous position. "So, you want to communicate like the humans. Do you prefer to use the inferior language, or does the Prime make you? I have heard rumors that the Prime is forcing his followers to assimilate into the humans' culture. I have also heard that the Prime fears the humans because he is weak. Is any of this true?"

Several vile replies flittered across Sira's mind, but she remained silent; he would not bait her into giving away her location again. She could hear his slow progress in her general direction.

"Come out, little femme; I want to play with you," he chortled and continued a grotesque soliloquy about his plans once he caught her.

Sira tuned him out and concentrated on silently weaving in and around the intersecting hallways. The design of the base served a purpose, confusion. The five long primary halls radiated from the Central Hub like spokes on a wheel, but the cross-halls made things interesting, space at irregular intervals, and they all looked the same. Someone standing at the end of one cross-hall couldn't see past the main spoke into another corridor. Mazelike and disorienting to an intruder, it offered cover while defending against a siege.

Looking down, Sira realized she held the little pistol-like weapon Optimus had given her. She couldn't even remember pulling it. It did not matter; after looking at the heavily armed mech, she knew he grossly outgunned her. She holstered the pathetic weapon.

Changing her location again, Sira squatted in the deep recesses of a shadow. This couldn't go on forever. Eventually, this would end in death, most likely hers, and she did not like that outcome. Hiding in the darkness, she despised being hunted like some sort of helpless animal. She had run all her life, running and hiding from those who might harm or expose her. She was tired of running, tired of having to give up everything she had worked to build. Her new family never ran away. The only time Ironhide retreated was to secure a better advantage over the enemy. Optimus never ran and hid. He may try everything within his power to keep a conflict from escalating, but he never ran away. Bumblebee only ran to ware down an opponent. The twins ran towards a fight, not away from one. She had no clue if Ratchet could run, and Wheeljack would just blow shit up and figure it out later. Sira had been taught to run and hide, but Velocity had been taught to stand and fight. Velocity knew how to use her smaller size to her advantage, and she was not going to cower in the corner, waiting for death to find her. Velocity would rather die defending her home from this - thing that left his taint all over her sanctuary like a cur dog marking its territory. He came here to threaten her, thinking he could do as he pleased, unchallenged by the Autobots. He will pay for such arrogance.

Anger and hate bubbled within her. She felt the wrath of the just when forced to contend with the wickedness and grotesque violence of those embracing chaos. She wanted retribution from those that threatened her home, her friends, her loved ones, her world. The beast roared from deep within her. It paced frantically, wanting out, and she gladly opened the gate. The years of denying her true nature fell away like petals from a fading flower. The ironclad control she kept on her instincts slipped, and the heat of blood lust swelled within her. She wanted to hunt, to tear, and kill. Growling softly, she let the hunter within take control.

A cold intelligence filled her head and spoke to her with her own voice. It reminded her that a dangerous adversary had closed in on her location. Velocity moved again. The calm, calculating predator rationalized several scenarios for dispatching the intruder before finally settling on a plan. The plan would not work here, and she had to move the game of hide-and-seek somewhere else.

She took a chance and sprinted to her destination, a mistake.

The enemy stepped into a cross hall as she ran past the other end. Velocity barely registered the sounds of shots when the impact sent her sprawling onto the floor. Hot, sharp pain burned in her back, but she could not stop. Quickly regaining her footing, she led the Decepticon to her chosen killing field. More rounds whistled past her as she saw the open door. Diving headlong into the room, the femme slid to a halt, then scrambled back to the doorway and crouched against the wall next to the opening.

The Conference room echoed around her. The cavernous space amplified the rapid hiss of her overtaxed vents and the minute clangs of metal against metal as she shook.

From the corridor, the 'Con laughed. "You have pinned yourself in. Stupid doll."

Any moment the mech would step through the doorway, and she had to be ready. She reached out and wrapped her hands around the weapon she came for, an ancient weapon used to decorate this space. She pulled the flagpole out of its stand. Pressing the metal cap against her palm, it remained firmly attached and sharp enough to do the job. "Thank you, Optimus, for only buying the best," Velocity whispered to herself.

Crouching low in the shadows next to the doorway, she kept the pole upright, using the folds of fabric as a hiding place and waited. It would not take long for the 'Con to want to claim his prize.

The mech took his time approaching the room, and she tried to ignore the pain in her back and the slow trickle of hot energon from the wounds. Her arms shook as the barrel of a gun slid past the doorway. Velocity held her position, waiting, knowing the predator within would tell her when to strike.

The enemy carefully stepped into the room, and Velocity attacked. Using all her speed and power, she leaped up. Carrying the pole with her, she rammed it under the mech's chin and into his helm. Still holding the spear, she shoved it further, the sound of thick cloth tearing against the points of his armor. The spearpoint exploded through the mech's optical socket and sparks arched from the mangled wound. The Decepticon roared and dropped his weapon. Using both hands, he tried to dislodge the pole. The screech of metal ripping past metal underlined the howls of pain and fury.

Velocity did not wait; she dove between his legs and raced down the hall. She had missed his processor. Such an injury might not be fatal in a human, so why should it stop a Cybertronian? The sound of the flagpole hitting the floor rang out crisply. She wondered if the Decepticon realized his fluids covered the Autobot flag.

Bellows of rage followed her as she ran. Screams described how he would rip her apart and use her head for decoration. Velocity did not slow as the mech pounded after her, rage stripping away caution and driving him towards her.

But she had to stop, if only for a second. Sliding to a halt in front of medbay, she found the doors locked. Quickly she entered Optimus's override code. "I paid closer attention than you thought," she whispered as she hurried through the room. She spent enough time in here under Ratchet's care and knew the room's layout and where the medic kept his supplies. Running her fingers along the wall, she found what she wanted. Grabbing the tool, she made a hasty retreat.

The Decepticon waited for her. As she stepped out of medbay, he swung. She could not dodge the assault, but training had taught Velocity to roll with a punch. She spun in the same direction as his movements. Instead of the damaging impact from a full-force blow, the mech only managed to rake his claws across her cheek. Using the momentum, she rolled, came to her feet, and bolted.

The injuries to her back slowed her down; every step burned, and her vents wheezed loudly. She skirted around corners and bounced off walls as she ran down the corridors. Her pursuer would not give up. Faster than she had anticipated, Velocity struggled to stay far enough ahead to make her next move. The Decepticon still bellowed at her, his rage fueling him, as he followed her helter-skelter through the halls of the Autobot base. He wanted her alive and screaming when he caught her. He had informed her of this with his endless screeching.

Another shot rang out, and pain exploded through her. Velocity stumbled, then fell. Her hands stayed clutched around the tool she took from medical. She regained her footing but staggered with pain. Her HUD lit up with warnings, but she ignored them, knowing the end was near. Velocity pushed herself harder, needing to put sufficient distance between herself and the Decepticon for the endgame.

She turned down a familiar corridor, pausing to open and immediately close a door. Then she continued down the hall; the groan of the underpowered door echoed loudly. Velocity reached the end of the residential hall, and turned a corner. Using another parallel corridor, she doubled back the direction she had come, trying to flank him.

Staying low, Velocity neared the corridor, where she triggered the door. Peeking around the corner, she saw her ruse worked. The Decepticon cautiously searched the Autobots' quarters, convinced she had sought refuge in one of the rooms.

A cold smile parted her lips. She called on her anger and hate, her fear and unspoken desire for violence and vengeance. The brutal emotions fed the furnace within her soul. Shutting out the rest of the world, she focused on just the mech. Nothing else, as the walls and rooms around them, faded away. She had reached the calm place, a place where time did not exist.

Shifting Ratchet's tool to her right hand, she checked the position and grip of the item. Velocity stood and carefully aligned herself with the mech and silently crept after her prey.

Intent on finding her in one of the rooms, the Decepticon never checked for someone sneaking behind him. It did not take long for her to close the distance between them. She crouched, coiling her strong legs under her, then growled a deep, dark threat. The mech spun towards the sound, exposing his upper torso. His mistake.

Velocity leapt. In training, she had tackled 'Bee and Ironhide so many times she didn't think about the action, now a reflex. Landing on the mech's chest, she felt him stagger under the impact, but he didn't go down. Using her peds, she dug sickle-shaped claws between the armor plates on his waist, hooking the talons for support. This close to his face, she saw the damage she had inflicted on him. On one side, neck to the optical socket, nothing remained but a gaping hole of torn wires and shredded metal. She dug her thumb into the wound and sank her claws into the mech's helm. Her other hand slammed the armor separator into the seam that divided the mech's chest plates, and she hit the activation button.

The device performed admirably. It sprung the heavy chest plates apart and exposed the spark chamber beneath. The Decepticon's roars turned into a pitiful, squealing howl. He started flailing randomly, trying to pull her off him, then trying to remove the separator; the more he lashed out, the deeper she sank her claws. Erratic blows pounded her frame, but she held onto him.

Reaching into the exposed chest, Velocity grabbed hold of the enemy's spark chamber and thrust all her rage into the mech's life force.

XxxX.

Epps screamed for Ironhide, but no one could hear the sergeant with artillery exploding around them. Using a length of rebar from a fallen building, the man slammed it against the Autobot's leg with a reverberating bang. The weapons specialist glared menacingly at the interruption while continuing to shoot at an enemy target taking refuge behind a Savings and Loan.

"Ironhide," Epps yelled over the din of booms and explosions. "Your base is under attack! F-22 pilot saw the damage," the communications officer reported.

Ironhide nodded to him and continued his barrage against the Decepticon.

Epps could only hope that the warrior just relayed the message. It impressed and unnerved him how Cybertronians could communicate among themselves and never pause what they were doing. Lennox once told him, Autobots could carry on several different conversations and drive in rush hour traffic without losing focus. The Captain spent way too much time alone with Ironhide.

Epps trotted back to the fortified command vehicle and continued to relay information to help civilians and military alike deal with the alien war.

XxxX.

Optimus heard Ironhide's message and looked towards their earthly home in the distance. The roll of the land prevented him from seeing the base, but a thin wisp of smoke trailed skyward from its location. Turning to the nearest Autobot, he ordered, "Wheeljack. Return to base. The Decepticons may be…."

He didn't have to finish his order when the scientist interrupted him, "Yes, Sir. I'll report what I find."

Prime pushed away all thoughts about an attack on the base. His spark ached, knowing he could not rush to aid the one life in the distance. He had an enemy to fend off and countless lives to save here, for the needs of the many always outweighed the needs of the few. Narrowing his optic shutters, he focused on the situation at hand. Spinning, he ran towards a Decepticon, his energon sword ready to slice through enemy armor.

XxxX.

She lay on something lumpy, uncomfortable, and slick. Opening her optic shutters, she stared into the ravaged and twisted face of an unknown mech. Pain and shock contorted his features into a grisly epitaph. His remaining optic sat dark and lifeless

She yelped and tried to scramble away. As she rose, the world spun violently on its axis, and she collapsed atop of the dead Decepticon. Refusing to remain snuggled up to the lifeless carcass, Velocity flopped off the body and onto the floor. The world furiously rotated again, forcing her to wait, nestled in the crook of his cooling arm. Eventually, the hallway subsided into a gentle undulation, emboldening her to attempt to move once more. With numerous starts and stops, she finally untangled herself from the dead Decepticon.

Unable to stand and warnings blinking angrily across her HUD, the femme realized she could not make it very far. Still, she wanted distance from the metal corpse. Reaching out to drag herself away only ended in searing pain. Her right arm ended in a melted and twisted numb below the elbow. The hand she used to grab the Decepticon's spark became a sacrifice so she could live. Slowly, cautiously, she managed to sit up, cradling the damaged appendage against her chest.

With molasses-like slowness, she scooted to a wall and leaned against it. Pain clouded her vision when her back brushed against the hard surface. Shifting, she found a tolerable position and laid the side of her head against the cold surface. Looking over at the thoroughly deactivated 'Con, she showed him the middle finger on her remaining hand and whispered, "Fuck you."

Pulling her knees up, she rested her left forearm on a knee and tucked her injured arm in her lap. The pain from the exposed and raw sensors reminded her she was alive. She had used her own body as a focus for the power she unleashed. Glancing down to where her right hand should have been, she studied the mangled stub. Raw wires poked out from congealed and warped metal. She noticed the lack of energon from the wound; apparently, the heat cauterized everything. Hopefully, Ratchet could fix it.

The calm voice inside her head said she needed to rest if she hoped to defend herself again. Shuttering her optics, she waited in the dark silence. Hopefully, the next mech she saw would be one she called a friend.

XxxX.

He bounced along the uneven terrain as he sped towards the base. He probably should have used the roads, but this was the quickest route. Ratchet could tighten and reattach whatever the rough trip knocked loose. Then again, Wheeljack had never been one to worry about the potential for damage.

As the engineer raced over the rise, he saw the ruins of the base below. The control tower was reduced to a smoldering pile, and the hanger no longer hid the entrance to the underground bailiwick. Pieces of thin sheet metal lay scattered about the area, and an impact crater scored the earth next to the dark maw of the elevator shaft.

Wheeljack's spark sink. He had come to consider the peculiar, little femme his friend. He did not want to think about what a Decepticon would do to her, and he did not want to see her remains if one found her alone. He had served on the search and rescue team after the Decepticons attacked the femme stronghold. Visions of what he saw would filter through his processor at odd moments and leave him frozen in fear. The thought of that happening to this new femme scared and angered him.

He never slowed as he entered the airport ground, dodging litter and the smoking remains of buildings. The engineer sped up as he neared the entrance to their underground base. The agile mech drove straight into the elevator shaft and transformed in midair while dropping out of sight.

Wheeljack landed and dropped to his knees, weapon at ready and scanning frantically. Some 'Cons could mask their signals, lying in wait for the unwary to pass before striking. He did not like being shot in the back, and Ratchet was just now letting him live down the last time that had happened.

His peds crunched on glass and debris. The flickering light of struggling generators told the engineer what occurred before he ever saw Central Operations. The destruction did not surprise him, and a quick survey of the damage created repair plans and ideas for improvements. But Prime did not send him here to fix things.

Wheeljack considered the best way to track Velocity in the maze of corridors and rooms. Central Ops was dead, so the sensors did not work, and his built-in scanners only covered a few histers. He could easily call her name, but that would alert any Decepticons in the area; therefore, room-by-room, hall-by-hall became his only option.

As he checked and cleared any room he came upon, the scientist noted the holes in the walls caused by light artillery. He saw the splatters of energon that dotted the floor. Someone had been hit, but not severely. Unfortunately, it also meant a Decepticon knew of Sira's presence.

A couple of corridors later, Wheeljack found the Autobot flag crumpled in the hallway. Energon and other mech fluids dried to a tacky consistency on the cloth. His hopes for the femme began to waver. Nearby, another pool of fluids glistened as part of an optic orb rested in the swirling discharge. He carefully plucked the abandoned optic up and examined it. It reflected red in his headlights. Cautious hope flickered within him. The two had clashed, and the feisty femme might have been more than the 'Con could handle. Tossing the bit away, he hurried on. He needed to find Sira.

As he hurried to clear rooms, Wheeljack knew he grew sloppy. He focused on areas with damage, scrapes, dents in the walls, smears of energon, hints of a prolonged chase through the base. No clear path emerged; he could not determine a logical progression of events, just random clues scattered about. Then, he rounded a corner and found the remains of a Decepticon laying face up in the middle of the hallway.

Well, what remained of the Decepticon laid face up in the hallway. Squatting, Wheeljack shifted his headlights towards the body. From waist to collar supports, very little remained. The entire upper torso was gone. Glancing about, he presumed the globs of cooling metal that oozed down the walls and hung like stalactites from the ceiling originally belonged in the Decepticon. Running an exploratory finger along the edge of the wound, he noted fused areas. It took extraordinary heat to fuse Cybertronian armor. He wanted the corpse in his lab and…

Jerking upright, Wheeljack remembered why the Prime sent him and looked around for the femme.

She sat in a nearby pool of darkness; her green optics glowed softly, giving away her location. The scientist carefully stepped over the body and walked towards her.

Sira squinted as he swept his lights across her. She leaned against the wall; knees pulled to her chest. A pool of energon collected on the floor beneath the small frame. Dents, scuffs, and scratches marred her chassis. Long gouges scarred the dainty face, but she lived.

Wheeljack squashed the urge to scoop her up and laugh with relief. "You have been injured," he stated as calmly as he could.

The femme cocked her head to the side as if trying to understand his words. Something moved behind the gentle shine of her optics. Something dark and deadly looked at him, leaving the distinct impression he could end up like the Decepticon if he weren't careful.

Wheeljack knelt just out of reach of the injured femme.

She looked at him with that curious expression. Not just at him, but through him, into him. The sensation was unsettling and reminded the scientist what Sira was not. After a few astroseconds the dark thing behind her optics receded. "Wheeljack," she stated.

He nodded. "Yes."

Sira sat for a few more astroseconds, then flopped towards him. The movement startled the mech, and he froze. The femme struggled to her knees and pressed herself against him, a hand rested on his chest. Ignoring the touch, he carefully wrapped an arm protectively around her.

Opening a channel to the Prime, he briefly reported his findings and received a weighted "Thank you." Then he scooped up the femme and carried her to med bay.

XxxX.