Captain: 5/31/2020 Holy primus it has been *ages*! I can definitely say that I never intended for five years to go by for this fic, but my muse abandoned me, and my timeline was terrible and inconsistent, and it just wasn't working out the way I wanted it to. Then I got a dog, graduated, moved a couple times, and now I'm applying to grad schools, and then Covid happens. I went two months without work and in that time I started playing with this story again and I thought, you know what, I still want to finish it. But oooooh boy did it need some work! So I rewrote it. That's right, from the very first word, I have rewritten this entire fic. Some things changed a little, some things changed not at all, some scenes were cut entirely, and new ones were added. Now that the rewrite is totally done, I'm going to start posting again! I have taken down the old chapters and posted the prologue and chapter one of the edited versions. In the coming weeks, I will continue updating with the revised chapters.

And when we reach the end of the revisions? I have new chapters awaiting. Wahoo!

I am back to work full time, but I will try to remember to keep consistent with the postings, haha.

Fanfic still hates my page breaks, hopefully I catch all the spots they're supposed to go /huffs

BTW this fic has art! Links on my bio! :D

Warning: This fic intends to show the worst the Decepticons can be capable of, they will not be light hearted or soft. Proceed with caution.

Without further ado, I give you the new and improved No Rest For the Wicked!

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. ~Anatole France

December 24

The snow had stopped falling some time ago, the clouds giving way to the full moon's brilliant power, illuminating a winter wonderland. The cold couldn't touch the cheer that overfilled the little town; couldn't deter the carolers roaming from door to door, singing of good tidings and Christmas spirit. Families loitered on the sidewalks, laughing with friends as their children frolicked through the snow, cheeks and noses stained pink. Holiday lights and decorations twinkled merrily from every house, casting colorful dancers on the streets.

A man walked alone along the road, his back to the life and joy. Even with no one to see, he could not contain his content smile as he soaked in the serenity and love his home was surrounded by. Taking a deep breath, he relished the crisp, clean air, made only a little sharper by the quiet as he broke the line of the last house. Checking his watch, he determined he had at most thirty minutes before the family hoard would come looking for him. As much as he adored every single member of his large family, there was only so much noise he could take in a single sitting. So he continued to walk away from the celebrations, reveling in the unearthly quiet the snow always brought about while he could.

It didn't take long to reach the very outskirts of town, the shops locked up and dark for the holidays. He shoved his boots into the light layer of snow, mindlessly kicking it up as he recalled memories of his childhood here; how he'd climbed that tree on the top of the hill to impress Sally Reynolds but broken his arm for his trouble. To this day he swore the kiss she'd gifted him was well worth it. His lips twitched as he passed the shop he'd once skateboarded off of, only to land in the back of his mother's truck as she rolled by. A relaxed sigh escaped him as he let the memories weave their visions of a carefree youth across his eyes. Idly he wondered if the old mill still stood at the end of Bonnie Lake Road. Glancing at his watch again, he figured he had enough time to find out.

It really wasn't a surprise to find the thing still standing, dark and dreary; the wood sagged in what could be imagined grief and exhaustion. A limp wreath hung from the door, adding to the sad look instead of dampening it. The boards groaned and creaked in protest against the breeze and the weight of the snow. The man grinned to himself, feeling foolish at having once been afraid of the 'haunted' mill, of spending an entire night inside by himself to prove that he was a 'man'. It had been a strong tradition passed down among the town boys. Ten years later he knew it probably still was.

Another sigh, he should come home more often, the happiness of the whole town was infectious. The worries melted away when he came here. Everyone was an innocent, with no idea what was going on with the rest of the world. It was perfect.

Turning away from the mill, he started back towards town, mentally preparing himself for another few hours of cheerful noise. Burrowing into his coat as the wind grew in strength, he almost relished the bite on his cheeks and nose. So different from the blistering heat of the desert.

The moon tucked away behind a thick cloud and belatedly he remembered a storm was supposed to be rolling in tonight. Almost as if to mock him for walking so far, the clouds released large snowflakes onto his head. At least the reflective snow still provided plenty of light to see the road and a steaming cup of coffee awaited him when he walked back through the door.

Then again, maybe he'd give in to the desire for cocoa, complete with whipped cream and everything.

He'd almost made it to the first shop when a peculiar sound reached his ears over the whistling wind; growling. Turning back the way he had come, he was assaulted by a blinding light as he placed the noise with a high powered engine. The car fully crested the hill, dropping down the slope and finally removing the glaring headlights from his vision. It was an odd thing, someone driving around this late on Christmas Eve, even stranger for it to be such a nice car. Then again, the Radcliffe's across the way had said they were hoping their granddaughter would be coming in tonight.

The wind was rapidly growing to a howl, burning his exposed ears and hurtling snow down the back of his neck, making him wish he'd thought to grab his scarf before stepping out.

He was hardly a car expert, but the flashy, purring, silver machine that slid across the ice next to him probably cost more than a pretty penny. There really was no way he wasn't going to admire the sleek curves as it came to a full stop. He was a guy after all, it was practically in his blood.

The passenger door swung open, the interior light momentarily blinding him again.

"Excuse me," a male voice called out from the driver's side. It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust enough to look the other man straight on, noting he looked somewhat like one of his uncle's buddies. The driver chuckled as he held up an upside-down map. "I'm a bit lost, I'm afraid. I was wondering if you could show me how to get back to the interstate?"

"Sure thing." He moved closer to the vehicle at the driver's prompting, leaning partially into the car to show the man the correct route, taking notice of the rich leather under his fingertips. He hoped the driver didn't have too far to go. This storm was getting worse by the minute and no one should be stuck on the road away from family on Christmas Eve.

"You go back the way you came until you reach this junction," he instructed, running a finger over the path on the map, "then you'll take this left-"

The wind gusted, slamming the door into the back of his legs and pitching him forward into the car, whose interior light had suddenly gone out. A sharp prick on his neck made him wonder if he'd been stung or zapped, but before he could give it much thought or retract from the car, he felt his muscles go limp and his mind turn fuzzy.

The car jolted oddly, drawing the man's legs inside before snapping the door shut. The driver paid little mind to his new passenger, spinning the car around and speeding off the way he had come. The wind silenced the throaty roar of his engine as the heavy snowfall wiped away the evidence of his existence.

For it being such a late hour on Christmas Eve, the streets were surprisingly packed with people. Then again, this was New York, the city that never sleeps; not even, apparently, on rain-soaked holidays. People bustled back and forth, arms loaded with colorful, bulging bags while screens flashed their various advertisements, urging the crowds into stores that never closed. Twas the night before the most gift-giving day of the year, and this was New York, so why not go a little crazy? The pain in the wallet could be acknowledged later, after the presents brought joyous expressions and exclamations from friends and family.

Jewelers particularly loved this day and had all hands on deck as husbands and boyfriends rushed for some last minute sparkle that would make up for the raunchy gifts they suddenly realized would probably get them in trouble.

Women emptied the shelves of tape and wrapping paper, finding out the hard way they didn't have as much as they'd thought they'd had left over from the year before and small roles didn't go nearly as far as they should have.

Missing from the streets were the children, who were all tucked into their beds, attempting to fall asleep so Santa could come yet too excited and hyped on candy canes to lie still for more than a few seconds. Many attempted to creep out of their rooms to catch a glimpse of the elusive jolly man, and to check on the cookies left out for him.

The elders were the only ones resting peacefully on this particular evening; they had done this song and dance far too many times to not have it figured out by now. They were ready for the crazy morning to come a week in advance. So while the youngsters scurried about, they could laugh and reminisce and sip on a spiked glass of eggnog.

It was the Chaos of Christmas and it occurred every year without fail. Rain, snow, or ice cold nights couldn't hold back the tide of last minute shoppers mobbing the stores and shop owners would never complain as they heard those registers ring. Taxi services loved it almost as much, more specifically, the ones just like this, where the pounding rain simply made walking too miserable to bear. The yellow cars were as coveted as the hottest toys that continuously flew from the shelves. The high demand urged the drivers to drive just a little bit faster, hoping to cram as many miles in as possible before the crowds disappeared until New Years.

There were always the unlucky few who found themselves without that desired toy or stranded on the wet streets and forced to make the walk home. One of those unfortunate individuals was a woman on vacation in the big city, hoping to grab a few great souvenirs for her younger siblings before the stores were utterly gutted. While she'd achieved the goal of finding things they would love, she was failing at finding a ride back to her hotel. Hefting the heavy bags up her arms, she muttered to herself a few words that were decidedly absent of holiday cheer and set off down the street.

Easier said than done to walk down a New York sidewalk with arms loaded to the max. The woman felt much like a ship's rope trying to thread through a needle.

Salvation! Through the throngs she spotted a cab pulling up to the curb, relieving its burden of two men just six paces ahead of her. All she had to do was reach it and climb in before anyone else. She made it only two steps before a small hoard of women besieged the cheerfully colored car, filling it to the brim. Her fingertips grazed the trunk as her rescue whipped back out into the road.

The woman huffed, wondering what had possibly given her the bright idea of coming out of her warm and dry hotel room tonight. She trudged on, cursing the rain as it came down harder.

"Need a ride?" She wasn't sure what made her turn, the man who'd spoken couldn't have been talking to her, she didn't know anyone in the city. But turn she did, finding a red sports car she hadn't even heard approach coasting next to her, the passenger window rolled down while the driver leaned over the console, staring expectantly at her.

"Are you a taxi?" she asked before mentally kicking herself as he laughed. He had a nice laugh, she decided.

He shook his head, brunette hair falling over dark eyes. "No, just going in the same direction. I saw how close you were to grabbing the last cab. So do you need a ride? Or are you enjoying the rain too much?"

He grinned. Oh he certainly had a nice smile too.

The thought of a warm, dry ride with a gorgeous man was almost too good to be true, but the warning bells stayed silent. She was surrounded by people in one of the busiest parts of town. Plus it was Christmas, people often reached out and did unexpected acts of kindness around the holidays. The fact that the driver and his car belonged on a movie screen was just a bonus. This was New York, after all, stranger things had happened.

Realizing she'd probably kept him waiting too long, she snapped out of her thoughts, decided to live in the moment and opened the door. "Thank you so much."

Smiling, she piled her bags in the car before getting in herself and swinging the door shut behind her. "I'm staying at the Hilton if you're willing to go that far, or you can drop me off anywhere, a taxi or bus station."

Snapping her mouth shut, she cursed herself for rambling and reminded herself, 'Live in the moment, stop overthinking things'.

"Thanks again, really, you're a lifesaver." The man returned her smile with his own as he pulled away from the curb, locks clicking into place as he sped into and around traffic.

The crowds continued to pulse on, not giving even a second glance to the woman who got into the red car. This was Christmas Eve, there were simply too many things left to do and too many people to weave through to take notice of an un-extraordinary woman doing an equally un-extraordinary act.

Miles away, a man bundled in a ragged coat looked up from his barrel-fire as a throaty engine roared by the entrance of his alley. These roads were usually quiet after dark and certainly nothing so nice went through this side of town. Tugging his coat tighter around him, he stepped out from the protection of his tarp to investigate what had been tossed-or fallen-from the expensive car. He warily picked up the bags of clothes and gifts, looking down the road for any sign the car might be coming back. There was none.

As he returned to his fire with new possessions in tow, the rain continued to pour.

December 25

The cargo plane's landing certainly wasn't the smoothest it could have been and the Major on board had to wonder if the crew had already broken into the eggnog despite it only being a few hours into Christmas morning.

As much as he wanted to be home with his wife and daughter, getting back to his home-away-from-home from a mission that sustained zero loss of life was a gift in his book. Now he could enjoy the holiday and allow the families of those around him to enjoy it as well.

The massive loading ramp finally lowered and the soldier paused a moment at the top as the morning sun blinded him. Already the heat was a force to be reckoned with. An engine revved behind him, a thick, black bumper lightly pushing into his back as he tarried too long. Lennox smirked as he let himself be guided down the ramp. For all his big, tough attitude, the truck really didn't like flying. The soldier would have dared say the mech was afraid of flying, if he was willing to be stuck riding in the truck's bed...again.

Making his way towards the officer's barracks, Lennox weaved easily through the orderly chaos of NEST soldiers going about their business of unloading the plane. Many stopped to salute him and he waved them on, eager for the luke-warm shower that awaited him. It never mattered where the mission took him or if they made enemy contact or not, he always ended up covered in a layer of sweat, grime, and questionable substances. He was ready to feel clean and human again, even if there was only one water temperature on Diego Garcia and he was more than likely to find several pesky red crabs inhabiting his bathroom.

Many blessedly long minutes later the Major walked back into the sun, damp hair, clean clothes and off duty for the next 24 hours.

"...body was found on the side of the 415 highway; authorities have yet to identify the victim and cause of death but tell us the older woman has been deceased for several days…" One of the several news stations blared out above the rest, commanding the main screen and greeting Lennox as he walked into the rec room.

"Epps!" he hollered, waving at the black man lounging on one of the couches, surrounded by remotes. "Turn that off! It's Christmas, no news on Christmas!"

He grinned as the airman laughed, obediently flipping all ten televisions to the annual broadcasts of holiday movies.

"So how was the trip?" Epps smirked, having already heard Ironhide grumbling about cowardly 'Cons and too-small planes just moments before.

Lennox groaned, dropping onto the couch with his friend. "The signal we'd picked up disappeared before we were even completely across the water. Whatever they were looking for, they found and cleared out."

"What is that?" The two men glanced behind them as a silver frame rolled into the room, blue optics flashing from the soldiers to the screens.

"Rudolph, care to join us?" Lennox offered, motioning to the super-sized 'couches' set up behind their own row of seats.

Sideswipe took another look at the movie. "Its nose is glowing."

"Yep." Lennox was almost impressed with the Cybertronian ability to mimic human facial expressions. The confusion on the silver mech's face was providing more entertainment than the 60's stop motion.

"It's a talking deer."

"Reindeer, actually," Epps supplied helpfully, taking full enjoyment of the moment.

The Autobot's optics dimmed for a moment as he accessed the internet. "It looks nothing like a reindeer….is it flying?"

"Yes, yes he is." Lennox didn't even try to stop or hide his grin, pondering how the 'bot would react to some of the 80's cartoons and wondering if it would be anything like the fiasco that occured after introducing a certain black-and-white to Scooby Doo.

Sideswipe shook his head, rolling back towards the exit while muttering about the deranged creations of humans.

"Rudolph is a classic!" Epps shouted after him, "Don't knock the classics!"

The rec room now void of distractions, the two men turned back to enjoy the simplicity of the storyline. Epps mused it would probably be next for a Hollywood reboot.

"...all units we have an APB on a missing person. Be on the lookout for a 24 year old white male…" The soldiers groaned in unison as their movie was once again interrupted by an Autobot, the mech passing through towards the Energon dispenser tucked into the corner.

"It's Christmas, Prowl! No police scanners on Christmas," Lennox chastised, doubting the cruiser ever didn't monitor the scanners.

"Crime does not stop simply for a day in which a portion of Earth's populace celebrates," the tactician replied, grabbing his Energon cube and disappearing the way he had come, scanner still spitting details about the latest missing person.

Epps rolled his eyes. "I swear he's a metal Spock."

Lennox couldn't help but agree and the two fell back into comfortable silence, enjoying the peace that came with watching a movie they'd both grown up with.

The base rocked with the force of a booming explosion, the TV's fading out for a breath. A single alarm followed; a short, low buzz that had come to be known as the 'Wheeljack alarm'. Epps shifted his position on the couch, throwing his hands behind his head. "Just another day in paradise."

December 26

This was hell.

The smell alone was enough to roll even the strongest stomachs. The stench coated the air, melding with the fog to create a thick smog that clung to the mountain valley for acres.

Tom usually loved his job as a Forest Ranger, investigating animal reports in Mother Nature's most beautiful landscapes was a dream. But searching for the source of this smell had to be the worst assignment in the history of bad assignments. It clung to him, seeping through his coat and pasting against his skin in a layer of freezing grime that would take days to scrub off. His throat tightened, repeatedly tensing as his body attempted to throw up again even when there was nothing left to hurl.

Honestly, sewers in summer were better than this.

Reaching the lowest part of the valley, he eyed the barely visible treetops as they dwindled in number to give way to what he knew was a rolling field of vegetation that was waist high by mid spring. The stench grew stronger with every step, he didn't even know it was possible to get worse than it already was. A few steps more and his body could take it no longer, forcing him to bend and heave for the sixth time in an hour. This really couldn't be healthy for him. He should have demanded a gas mask. Not that anyone had guessed it would be this bad. Tear gas was probably less painful to breathe.

The smog was thickest here, limiting his sight to only a few feet in front of him. The smell of decay was almost tangible in the air.

He didn't know it was possible for something to smell so putrid, for scent alone to suffocate him. There was no way this was a single dead animal like they'd all thought. He wasn't even sure a hundred dead animals could give off something so foul.

His boots squelched in the grass, bringing his trek to a halt as he paused to see just what he had stepped in. He knew these grounds, there was no water source inside a mile and it hadn't rained or snowed in the last week. It was barely above freezing. Whatever he'd stepped in, the ground was drenched in it.

Both of his boots were wet, soaked and stained up the sides in red.

Something near his foot caught his attention as he frowned at his boots.

His gut revolted and he retched again, turning away from the thing in the grass. Fumbling with his radio, Tom attempted to reach the station, cursing the lack of cell service up here. This was so far beyond his pay grade it would be laughable if it wasn't so horrifying. He needed the police.

As he struggled to reach anyone with the communication device, desperately hoping someone would hear his call, he morbidly wondered just who the arm pressed into the mud had belonged to and where the rest of their body was.

He was hardly an expert on injuries, but he knew the blood on the ground was far too much to have come from a single arm, to have come from a single body. His gut rolled as he dared look again, noting the low decay in the torn flesh. This was not the cause of the horrendous stench. There was something else out here.

Cursing again as his radio continued to receive nothing but static, Tom realized he'd have to hike all the way out to find cell service of any kind.

Taking careful steps, he continued through the newly made bog, all the while attempting to raise someone, anyone, on the radio. He'd never had issues reaching the station from the valley before, why did it have to be now?

Hope swelled as he heard a roaring engine cut through the fog, he wasn't alone! This person could give him a ride back to the station; get him the hell away from here faster than two legs could take him.

Turning, he tried to pinpoint where exactly the sound was coming from. It was almost impossible as the fog and the valley scattered the source, leaving him to make at best a guess of the direction of whatever large truck was out there. Off to the right then, there was an old logging road in that direction, it had to be where the 4x4 had come from.

With that in mind, Tom headed off, disappearing into the fog.