Disclaimer- Transformers and all recognizable characters are property of Hasbro. As in I don't own them. All plots and original characters are property of me, myself, and the people in my head. We don't let other people use them because it's not cool. So don't steal them, because you really don't want to piss us off.
Title-Immorality of Morals
Author- MooMoo-Sama
Rating- T
Summary- It had been a slim chance. A slim chance that she would find him, a slim chance that he wouldn't kill her, a slim chance that they'd become friends, and a slim chance for survival. But how can you choose what's right or wrong in a war that you shouldn't be in? Meet her dilemma.
Author Notes- Enter the OC! I think this is the longest I've spent developing any one character, and I hope it shows. Things may be a bit choppy at first, but all in all I'm happy with this chapter.
Thanks to all my reviewers, I'm glad that this fic is being is well revived. Also, I plan on this being a multi chapter fic that is going far into the future. So don't worry about a lack of reading. I have nearly 200 hits on this already, which I'm going to take as a good sign that I'm doing something right.
Though a review here and there wouldn't hurt either.
Anyhow. It is my pleasure to bring you the second installment of..
Immorality of Morals
Chapter Two
The crowd was all murmurs, shifting in their seats and staring down at the track hungrily. This was National Level, no joking or playing, even though it was only high school students competing. Scouts littered the audience and the pressure of the room was near unbearable. The atmosphere weighed heavily with expectations from every side. Spectators bearing down on athletes and demanding their entertainment like packs of hungry wolves.
Some had cracked under the pressure, they were sweating bullets without having run at all. Eyes wild and nerves on end, they moved with an anxiousness, trying to shake the adrenaline and fear out of their systems before it ruined them totally. Eyes darting to the crowds, already having lost just by losing focus.
She pitied them slightly. These girls had the same dream she did. They were here to achieve the same goal as her, and through hard work and training they'd come so close to victory that it was frightening to them to see it standing before them. She wanted to say that she'd been there once, been in their shoes and known their feelings.
But honestly, if she'd ever sucked so bad her brain probably had a mental block in place to stop her from going into shock.
Rolling her eyes, 'Fast-forward' moved towards the starting line languidly. She was easily the tallest there, and her attitude alone was making the girls around her either cower in fear or make asses of themselves by trying to look tough in her shadow.
It was obnoxious to say the least.
She didn't spare the crowd another glance as she reached her mark, bending and stretching out the muscles in her legs. More to keep her warm then anything, she'd already warmed herself up well enough before stepping onto the track. Hair tied back, she absently noted the short tail that stuck out from the back of her head. Most of the girls around her had some length to their hair, probably an effort to make their lean bodies look more appealing.
Runners, serious runners, tended to lack a certain voluptuousness. They were meant to be lean and fit, less curve and more line. But these were the young ones, the ones who worried about boys and appearances. In an effort to bring out more of a feminine quality they went through lengths that Fast-forward couldn't bother with.
The teen gave a rather un-lady like snort.
Most of the other girls were copying her motions, bending this way and that. A small blonde at the end was smiling into the crowd charmingly and Fast-forward snorted again. There was one person knocked off her competition list.
Cameras were crowding all over the place. Reporters and photographers were talking to coaches, interviewing family, and generally being prying as possible. If you didn't learn to ignore the bustle you weren't going to last.
Now wasn't really the time to think about how much her peers lacked though.
Fast-forward continued her movements, stretching as far as possible. Her breaths were even and controlled, and slowly the world around her became muffled. Unlike the girls around her though, she wasn't humming to herself or jamming something in her ears to concentrate. Rather, she gradually grew more blank. Camera's flashed in her direction, catching what was known as the infamous 'Button Pressing' cycle.
She straightened slowly, expression cold and almost frightening. Her top, skin tight, rode slightly up her stomach but she paid no mind as they were called to their marks. The others scurried to their positions by comparison to her movements, almost as if she were merely following the crowd rather than listening.
Fast-forwards movements were slow, almost as if she'd been put into slow motion. The teen was the last to reach her mark. She was on the outside lane today, her favorite spot, and her body seemed to fold down on itself as she went to the ready position.
She could feel the heartbeats around her as the crowd hushed like a movie theater when the lights dimmed. The track was warm, and it told her all she needed to know. It let her feel what it felt, like she was sinking into the ground. The pressure of the weight bearing down on it, the sweat dripping down and the blood hammering through the veins of those perched on its flesh. Fast-forward could hear the adrenaline rushing though the room like a twister, the reek of fear and the weight of hope.
Suddenly though, it was gone from the room and the silence was deafening, The adrenaline lay dormant in her veins, and her heart stopped beating all together. Like the world was on pause for her, and everything was waiting. Her own voice ran in circles in her mind, telling her what needed to be done, when finally she heard it.
"The world is yours, Nessa-baby, show me what 'cha got."
The pistol went off.
Then it all came back. The blood was pounding in beat with every heart, adrenaline flying and the heat of the room expanding. Except it wasn't everyone else now, but her and only her. The rest were non-existent. The track sung it's pleasure, pushing her forward with each step and promising her the world. The crowd, she was sure, was screaming, but it fell on deaf ears. Her legs ate the ground, each step bringing her closer to freedom.
Some people said that they were flying when they ran, but she wasn't into that delusion. Who needed flying when you were suddenly in control of the earth itself? The ground pulsing beneath you and the pleasure of knowing it's nothing but your own skill that brings you ahead of everything. Knowing that the wind pushing against you was of your own creation, and nothing could hold you back. It was enough to loose yourself.
Then it was over.
Fast-forward slowed only after her mind caught up with the rest of her body. The rest of the people around her came back in a flash. The room was screaming and she slowed to a trot to walk off her steam. It was several seconds more before the rest of the girls started to cross the finish line. She absently noted the blonde girl who let her muscles cool was limping behind the pack.
Several nods of congratulation were sent her way, which she returned like the sportsman she was. She closed her eyes, enjoying the lingering feeling of freedom before bodies began to slam into her.
Fast-forward eyed her mother who was pulling a sob act all over her. Her agent and his assistant came up next, both giving her hugs and back pats which made her cringe. Finally it was the coach. He knew far better than to touch her. He simply caught her eye and made a mild grunt before turning to face the pack of hungry reporters.
They began to launch off questions, which her little entourage answered with ease. Be it about her shoe size (ten and a half) or weather she was going to participate at the international meet (of course she is!). Any too personal questions were diverted (why are you taking so long, you're not getting any younger) and generally she stood there without having to do anything more then blink.
Her mind was trailing, as usual, and she wondered if there were any hot pockets waiting for her in the freezer. There was one question that got her attention though, just as things were winding down.
"So, now, after winning that National Teens Two-hundred Meter, you are considered the fastest youth in the country! You are at your peak, and we know from your coach that your going to be taking time to wind down and train for the International Competition."
Other reporters watched the spokesperson with smiles, nodding to themselves to confirm what was said.
"Vanessa 'Fast-forward' Zeiez, what do you plan to do off the track?"
Fast-forward smiled slightly, waving off her agent before he spoke in her stead. The crowd of reporters looked on excitedly as she stepped forward. It was a rare day when they actually got a comment from her mouth.
"Yeah, I have a plan. I'm going to go follow some dreams. Maybe do a little 'myth' hunting."
With that, she turned and walked to the locker rooms, leaving her coach chuckling and her agent and mother frothing at the mouth.
"What the hell Vanessa! I thought we decided that you weren't doing this!"
Fast-forward, AKA Vanessa (or was it vice-versa?) rolled her eyes heavenward. Her agent was pitching a fit, and her mother was probably hot on his heels. She didn't bother to really listen, choosing to instead rummage though the freezer for her own weakness amongst food.
Hot pockets, the kryptonite of the mighty.
She popped the little roll of deliciousness into the microwave, setting the timer and watching it rotate without really acknowledging the chatter behind her. Her agent was an average man in every aspect. He was shorter than her, which was amusing, and while not fat wasn't exactly skinny.
"Greg, just because I don't continue to argue.." she started, pulling the lukewarm pocket from the microwave "Well, that doesn't mean that I'd changed my mind. I was simply worrying about your heart." she shot him a small fake smile and walked out of the kitchen.
The penthouse was large and lavish, the complete conformity of every 'rich people' fantasy. White walls, black leather couches, plasma screen and plush carpets. She was still in her running gear, having not bothered to change in the locker rooms and just head home. Kicking off her shoes she flopped over the back of the couch, sprawling over the cushions.
"Honey, now isn't the time to be sarcastic. This is your future we're talking about." another voice joined the conversation.
Ms. Zeiz an undeniably beautiful woman. She was sinking gracefully into her forties, her hair only just starting to show silver strands. But against the fiery auburn color that both mother and daughter shared, it highlighted her face more. She was tall, like her daughter, but only standing at five nine gave the height advantage to her offspring.
Her face was lined very lightly, and with large bright eyes she looked far younger then her forty-four years. She looked sweet and fair, the perfect mother. Always dressed well, smelling good, all that jazz. The tabloids ate it up.
"Thus the basis of my decision." Vanessa called back, not bothering to look up from her snack. Vanessa took up the whole couch by herself, legs stretching out to hang over the arm.
"This is my life. At the risk of sounding like a melodramatic teenager, I'd like to make my own choices. I mean, I'm fighting against fate here, my agent isn't making it any easier." she bit hungrily into her snack.
"But, this… obsession you have has got to stop!"
Vanessa sat up suddenly, eyeing her mother . "My dad would have thought it was awesome." she said lowly.
As if on cue, her mothers eyes started to water. The teen plowed on though. "Plus, this is my relax period before I start training again. It's not like I'm gong to be doing anything else for awhile."
She moved from the couch, sauntering towards her room with all intents on taking a shower. As she passed the kitchen she dropped her snack on the counter, letting it cool further. Expectedly Greg, Alyssa, and her mother followed like trained pets. Greg was a good agent, and his little assistant Alyssa followed him around like she was on a leash too.
She was a small thing, volumes of curly brown hair and a air of natural cuteness. She was only twenty-two, and she seemed to be the only assistant able to handle her boss who was notorious for destroying the hopes of the young, and able to handle the Zeiz family. That alone should get her a peace prize. Vanessa liked her, she was easy to relate to and probably the only other female she saw remotely near her age that she wasn't trying to beat in a race.
"Where are the twins?" Vanessa asked as they moved.
"They're with their tutor right now." the brunette answered
"Huh, tell them I'm home when they're all done with what ever they're doing today. Don't want to be a distraction." she almost muttered.
"Sure Vanessa." was the chipper answer.
Her mother seemed to have the fight whipped out of her at the mention of her late husband. She stopped at her daughters doorway, leaning against the frame in her two piece suit. Her mother was the CEO of one of the largest sportswear selling companies. Her daughter served as the lead promotion, considering all of her equipment was designed by the company.
"If.. if this is really what you want." she finally cracked. With a soft nod she continued past her daughters room towards her own. Probably to harass her own assistant on the phone. Greg knew he'd lost now, and Vanessa had to give him kudos for continuing to try.
"What about the commercials? You have a date set with Gatorade."
Her room was large, but entirely unlived in. Everything about it was blank. She shuffled around, trying to remember where her things were. So often she was gone that it was her own room that was alien. Alyssa moved forward and opened up a top drawer in an unused dresser, handing the tall girl a small blue bag. Vanessa smiled her thanks before turning her back completely on Greg.
"Tastes like piss anyway.." she muttered, searching through her bathroom bag.
" If you wander off to California, how are we supposed to meet with everyone?" Greg was getting hysterical.
Vanessa rolled her eyes as she starting walking to the bathroom connected to her room. "Listen, the only things you should be asking me right now is when and where. Stop nagging, I already have a mother, and you're starting to piss me off." she called, her voice becoming hard. Greg's mouth snapped closed. He took a deep shuddering breath, as if holding back his temper.
"Done? Good. Now make yourself useful and find me a place to live."
She stopped, spinning on a pivot at the bathroom door. Alyssa looked back and forth between her two bosses. Without hesitation she stepped between them, interrupting the glaring contest.
"Did you have any place in mind Vanessa?" she asked, ignoring the tension.
The teen in question looked thoughtful.
"Well, not the city. I'd actually like someplace with a yard, maybe backyard if that's possible. Small, since it's only going to be me." she eyed Greg as if to reinforce her statement. "Oh, and I want to be signed up in the local high-school."
Alyssa looked up curiously from the notepad she'd whipped out to take notes. "Why?"
"Well, technically I haven't finished my senior year. I don't mind going over stuff I've done." her voice was nonchalant, but Alyssa knew her well enough not to ask anymore questions about schooling.
"Anything else Vanessa?"
The teen shrugged, turning slightly, but stopped. "Yeah, there's something else." she said. Alyssa watched her curiously.
"Make sure it's somewhere.. Tranquil."
It was degrading, an insult, to be crawling through this organic matter. Probably what humans felt like in a daily cycle. Barricade let out a sardonic chuckle. Here he was, worming his way up a mountain side, literally. If only Motorhead could see him now.
Without the use of his left arm and right leg, he struggled through the underbrush., and still his thoughts were turned towards the infestation of humans and their slagging protectors.
Ah, the Decepticon mentality.
Still, he had to keep moving. There was a chance that he'd finally finished off Bumblebee. And if that was so he wasn't sure Prime had enough control over his troops to stop them from hunting him down, ready to avenge the fallen scout, and try to tear him bolt from bolt.
So he decided to make a hasty retreat. It had been several joors since the battle, and his scanners were on overdrive trying to find a safe base of operations. He knew without a doubt that his current base, an abandoned warehouse by the harbor, was an impossible destination to try and reach.
Unable to transform, he'd been making himself a giant eighteen foot tall target on the mountain side. But here at least there was the tree cover. Barricade couldn't be bothered enough to learn too many earth customs. If he had his was about, English would be a lost language soon.
Still, he knew when something was going to make a commotion in the primitive society. There was the slight impression that subtlety would be an issue if he decided to try and walk back to base. The chances of surviving that venture were so low that he couldn't even figure the percent.
So it was on to plan B.
The mountain he was climbing seemed mostly uninhabited with only a few human structures built in. The humans spread everywhere, like a virus, he couldn't be too picky about a clean location. Plus, most of the structures were barren of life.
The mech new he must have looked like Starscream on the receiving end of Megatrons anger. His armor was scraped and burnt, covered with organic muck. He'd long discovered that Ironhide had struck him with a form of EMP, except much stronger then the primitive earthlings could hope to create. They'd obviously been prepared to capture him, and Barricade was ashamed for them.
Take him alive? What a joke.
They were all warriors. They should know better. If you want to immobilize the enemy, make sure what ever you're shooting will never work again. Bumblebee had dealt a fair blow to his joint, and he knew that this was going to be hard to fix. Like a good soldier. He was disappointed in Ironhide though. This planet was making them soft. At this rate they'd be shooting him with water pistols at the next encounter.
Because there would be a next one, he was fragging sure of that. But it might be a bit of a wait. Barricade was on his own, wasn't exactly like he could go to the Autobots for repairs.
The thought was amusing though.
Still, there was the distant worry about how he was going to repair himself once he'd found shelter.
Movement to his left caught his optics, and the mech stiffened. How could he let something get so close? A small creature was staring at him. Quadruped, delicate looking. It's wide eyes stared at his massive frame and it shuddered. Barricade prepared to silence it's scream, reaching out his working arm towards it. It was small, there was no way it could survive if he caught it.
Rather then scream though, it stepped forward to meet his hand. The coarse hairs of it's body gleamed in the fading sunlight and it pressed it's cold respiration passage to his finger. He watched as it back away slowly, the short appendage near it's flank flicking.
Behind it, the larger of what appeared to be the same species appeared. It too stared at Barricade, tensing, before darting off. The smaller stayed though. Barricade reached forward, prodding it's side with surprising gentleness. The beast stumbled under the weight before it turned and followed the larger of it's kind quickly, not looking back at the confused mech.
'What the Pit was that?' he wondered.Grudgingly, he used the humans 'internet'. Millions of answers came from his search, and he quickly narrowed it down to the exact information he wanted. Deer. A ruminant mammal belonging to the family Cervidae. He trailed his searches, taking the information in almost instantly, before disregarding the situation.
He hadn't been aware that there were creatures alive that were dumber then humans. This 'Fawn' was far to trusting. Perhaps it had a glitch, considering that they were supposed to be skittish. He was surprised, considering how small this planet was, that they could survive with all the humans about.
This planet could barely sustain life as it was, how could it hope fit anything else? Including Cybertronians. A stray thought entered his processor and he stopped his movement slowly, curiosity piqued as he searched 'mammals'. The magnitude of results was distracting to say the least.
So many creatures that were to be destroyed.
What a useless planet.
Barricade hissed unhappily as his arm started to smoke lightly. Perhaps he was delirious, but the depressing mirth wasn't helping his situation any. With a shake of his head the mech concentrated again on his trek. He didn't have any time to waste.
The Autobots could be gaining, and he was nowhere near the peak of this mountain.
End Chapter
