Prologue
Night crept over the urban towers of the city like thick plague, fingers stretching deep over pavement, slicing at the beating heart of this sector. Eons of sin bled into the streets, through the façade of stitched-together composure and justice.
He hadn't experienced this harrowing depth of stillness in cycles; since his time cutting through stars in deep space. Brief, jarring crags of lightning whipped across the sky and offered mere seconds of illumination.
Creeping forward from the alley, tires of the beast beneath him bit into the wet pavement. Upset the pools of water, the litter of human trash and debris. Rain cut through the headlights like miniscule jewels, and he edged out farther, trying to see beyond the accursed alley corner. Trying to watch for traffic, for that one specific traveler that he'd been waiting for the entire cycle.
Tires on pavement, moving at a good clip. The thunk of beat suspension dipping into a low spot on the street, undercarriage scraping enough to cause a bit of spark. Bobbing, offset headlights that he'd seen a hundred times before. A quick scan of the plates confirmed ownership. It was hard to see an outline, make a profile in the rain streaking across the windshield, but he made the ID. Dropped into the right gear, felt the truck roar with horsepower. Killed the headlights.
Torque on the takeaway was breathtaking, almost frame-rattling. He tore out of the dark alleyway like a creature of the ether. His speedometer read a solid 60, tac redlined as the transmission screamed at him.
They were traveling at enough speed to make this hurt; didn't register the pain until the front end slammed hard into the driver's side panel. Pain like a thousand bone-splitting knives ripped through him as his tires went up and over, as the smaller vehicle caved beneath him. Hearing the screams but shutting off any receptors, he made short work of crushing the four-door sedan.
He'd been in collisions before. It hurt, made his sight skip, but it was brief. Not debilitating. Sinking into his full weight, brief consideration of the opposite car revealed that the driver couldn't have survived. Someone was still screaming, he could feel the throb of a frantic, frightened organic heart. Checking the clock, it had been six minutes. Six minutes too long.
Lights around the neighborhood cut through the night. He could hear the scramble of observers, feet on the street, pressing closer. Time to get out. Throwing the truck into reverse, he backed off the sedan, frame bobbing the tires kissed the pavement earth again. Taking seconds to inventory himself, he backed up, adjusted gears, and saw people descending on the wreck like the scavenger's this species were.
Flashing high beams blinded them. He ripped through gears like a desperate thing, knowing the job was finished. No one could have survived that, no one ever survived one of his jobs. He was accomplished, had a good record, even back home—back home so far from this wretched, disgusting place. A millennia of war meant something.
He made the call, heard the second she picked up the phone. Saying nothing, waiting on him to make the move like the cutthroat he'd discerned her to be the second she'd made his radar.
"It's done." Didn't mention the other heartbeat, the other body. Maybe it wouldn't shake. Maybe it didn't matter. He didn't care.
A tick of silence. Then, "Good. That will be all." The way she said "will" implied there was no room for discussion. Click.
Audio-splitting silence roared in the cab as his tires ate pavement, pushing hard out of the urban jungle this place was. He shook off the thin iciness of her tone, of her brevity. How dare she speak that way to him—didn't matter. He cursed her under his breath. Focused on getting out of here, out of this hellscape.
This place, this place. Sin tasted so different here, felt so much deeper than the ones he'd known for so long. He could almost feel them in his chest cavity, in the wiring stitching him together from his core.
He almost felt it. It almost mattered. Almost.
Author's Note: Alrighty, hey there cadets! So, I'm finally doing this-well, two things, really. Not only am I **finally** writing my first full-length Gotham story, I'm writing my first crossover! My two favorites things meeting together, Gotham and Transformers. If it seems like an odd combo, chill out-this is Gotham. Literally anything is possible, right?
That being said, for now this story follows the happenings of season one. Hopefully I'll keep up enough steam to stretch it across the entire show, but it's gonna be fun I promise. This follows my OC, June Preacher, who makes an appearance in my first stab at writing for Gotham in my seven-chapter arch, Walk the Line. She's a love interest for Bullock (yes I'll share him, it's fine).
That being said, I'm taking some liberties with the show and bending and twisting to fit more along the lines of Transformers involvement. The TF element will have some of the movies feel to it and some IDW-era comics, but you don't really need to know either to follow along. It's gonna be my own, AU-type thing and I am more than ready to dive into it. Really, you don't need to know either of these two genres to know it's a cop, sci-fi action adventure romance. Yay if you do, thanks for taking a risk being here if you don't.
Please, I'd appreciate some traffic, reviews, favorites, alerts on this one. I love you guys and love getting to know each and every one of you. I know this is a vague, short start but it's a prologue. More to come out of the first chapter. That being said, can you guess who the victim of the accident is? xoxoxoxo.