Well I don't think I've been below 10,000 words in some time
Interesting.
Anyway, thank you guys for staying with me for the millionth time :)
Hugs for everybody! :D
Enjoy!
Of The Spark And Heart
Part 1
Chapter 41
"Handle the cargo with caution; I do not wish to see a single discrepancy if you so desire to live longer."
Already slim optics narrowed even further, showing the ominous promise the holder carried. Her crowned helm tilted forward, shadowing her features and increasing the glow of her deep crimson glare. Her servos remained on her hipbolts, curled into tight fists as if she planned on knocking the sense to a few of the 'Cons working before her. She had a good mind to, if not for the fact that she wouldn't be able to transport the cargo alone if she were to injure too many. The yellow of her crest gleamed gold in the light of the Earth's lunar orbit, adding to the dark beauty of her appearance. Danger just screamed from the aura seeping off of her, causing any and all mechs or fembots to create a wide berth around her when they passed by.
The leader of the Decepticons aimed her venomous view on those exiting the massive warship, their arms full of materials loaded in the storage bay. One mech held a large bundle of metallic strips in his grasp, its size taking up both available servos. Arachnid approached the ship deemed the Nemesis, taking in the incredible mass of a vessel. It was at least two miles long, with an arrow-shaped bow that pierced the night skies and dared rip them apart like a mesh curtain. Layered panels made up the outer surface of the Nemesis, parted here and there by retractable window shields. Fins, large enough to be their own transport ships, jutted outwards into the air, sharply curved at the tips. It was around a mile and a half wide, not counting the impressive array of self-defense weapons attached to the underside and wings.
A single dorsal strut added another mile and a half of height to the carrier, causing the fembot to lean back slightly in order to better see it. Her optics shuttered and she grinned in delight, feeling the small tug on her spark again as she got nearer to the spacecraft. Of course, she was already accustomed to this feeling, gaining it anytime she drew near to their Lord and Master. It gave her a pleasant warmth to think that she was coming closer and closer to seeing his spark alight again, with every piece of armor taken from that ship adding to their progress. The spindly legs attached to her spinal support curled in around her, vibrating softly with her inner glee.
"Mistress Arachnid, it's a pleasure to see you again." the fact that she allowed this arrival to sneak up beneath her senses made Arachnid's armor crawl in irritation. I must hone my talents, she noted for later on. Turning to face the mech, the fembot cast a glance over his shoulderbolt, studying the pace of her warriors. "Knockout," she greeted coolly, her tone stark and professional, "your journey was successful I assume?" the smirk that crossed the mech's faceplates was arrogant, a trait frowned upon by the fembot leader. Arrogance led to idiocy. Idiocy led to death. Death led to fewer warriors, thus a lost war. "Of course," he answered, stepping aside to reveal that behind him, his servo gestured to the line of Decepticons carrying out his assigned load, "the parts of Sentinel Prime, as well as more than enough supplies to recreate Trypticon have been retrieved and are currently being unloaded. Although, I am uncertain as to why you ordered us to attack the Autobot's ship Centauri, for it was merely patrolling the outer exosphere. It was an unnecessary plunder when we already had enough materials in my opinion."
"Well your opinion has no matter here," Arachnid retorted snappishly, "Whatever I wish to transpire, shall. There is no impudence towards me, unless you desire your helm to be severed from your neck." Arachnid raised her clawed servo, flashing the keen edges in the milky light of the moon. The parts of Knockout's jugular region expanded as he swallowed his lubricant, his faceplates unnerved and slightly anxious. Taking a click to readjust himself and regain his composure, Knockout shifted on his peds and squared his shoulderbolts, trying -and failing- to hide his inner concern. "The Nemesis is yours to control my Mistress, as is its crew." the surgeon bowed, causing Arachnid's irritation to fall to a lesser level. When Knockout straightened, the fembot spoke again, "Your work is done here Knockout. From now until our Lord's return, your position as surgeon will be used assisting Hex in creating a proper frame for His return." she waved the mech off, curtly dismissing him.
Knockout nodded, his expression less than pleased. As he walked away, Arachnid overheard him mutter "fragger" under his vents. She ignored his comment however, unconcerned with the trifling names given to her by her underlings. Fragger was not, and would not be, the worst title given to her as of late, but she brushed them all to the back of her CPU. As long as those beneath her power cooperated, there would be no reprimand.
Arachnid made her way around the hull and to the open entry hatch, taking in the delightful sight of the inner supplies being carefully removed. The ramp was constantly being tread by warrior mechs and fembots, a certain fembot and mech pair catching the leader's optic. She straightened herself, waiting until they both made a second round to the ship, continuing to carry out armfuls of energon cubes. "Flamewar, Soundwave, a moment." at the fembot's word, the two 'Cons looked in her direction, pausing in their trek for a moment to begin in her direction. The scientist didn't appear at all joyed that she was being called over for a word with her leader, seeming as though she'd rather suck on rust. And from past experience knowing this Decepticon, Arachnid had no doubt she would have believed so.
"Yes, Mistress Arachnid?" Soundwave intoned, far less emotionally spiteful as his fembot counterpart. Arachnid pushed aside her personal differences with the fembot before her and moved on to more professional and pressing issues. She lifted her arms and reached behind her, using her servos to retrieve two small devices from their place on her upper spinal support. She then handed them to the awaiting 'Cons, blatantly ignoring Flamewar's distrustful glance as she took her own. "What are these?" she asked, turning the object around in her digits a few times to study. "Tracking devices. They shall accompany you in your mission." Arachnid responded simply.
"Mission? What mission?" Flamewar continued, rearing back from the device as it jumped and clicked, releasing six tiny, clawed 'legs' that grabbed at the air as it attempted to get upright. Flamewar reared away from the insect-like tracker, holding it away from her body by one of the tiny appendages. Soundwave was more reserved about the device, allowing it to crawl up his arm and promptly dig its legs into his armor, anchoring it there. A small wince crossed his features, but nothing more. The 'bug' gave one last successful chirp and then began to blink a bright red. Flamewar gaped at her comrade, clearly shocked at his careless composure.
Arachnid picked the device from her fembot peer, holding it higher so to allow it to connect to her onyx and ruby armoring. "You are to rendezvous with your peers at the Autobot base in Diego Garcia, where they are holding it under hostage. Once there, you are to gather as much information as you can concerning the human Fera Rosalie Lennox. Do you compute?"
As the tracker embedded itself into Flamewar's armor, the fembot sneered in disgust. She and Soundwave nodded in understanding. There was an edge to their conversation, as if it were left unfinished. The fembot leader knew this look well enough to realize what it meant, but she was still eager to finish here in order to return to headquarters and observe Hex and Knockout's progress on their Master's frame. From the first time Arachnid had laid optics on the outline for the armoring and overall shape, she knew it was going to be a magnificent design. It was broad and obviously tall, with an enormous array of plates, parts, and weapons.
To say he wouldn't be an intimidating figure would be to say that rust didn't effect Cybertronians. To say he wouldn't be an effective leader would be saying Arachnid wasn't afraid to eradicate another of her kind for insolence.
"Mistress Arachnid," Soundwave began, snapping the fembot from her process, "we are ground-based alternate assaults, we do not have the means of airline travel-"
"Which is why I had appropriate alternative forms gathered for the both of you." Arachnid intervened, stepping back to reveal the two fighter jets behind her. The Decepticon gestured towards the sleek forms of an SR17 Blackhawk jet, and a more sculptured, angled F-117 Nighthawk. It had been relatively easy to acquire both aircraft from human control, as one of the two were considered a retired model, and was simply left to rust in an organic's collection. It was a waste of perfectly good aircraft.
Soundwave quietly moved forward towards the Blackhawk, giving no sign of displeasure -or any form of emotional reaction at all really- as he ran a servo over the surface of the jet. Within the nanoclick of studying his new alt, the mech's optics burst with light. The thin veil of his scanner traveled from the tail of the craft towards the front, rounding back for a second time. His scanner shuttered to a close, its glow fading from the night air. As the information settled within his systems, Soundwave took a step back, his plates already whirring with unused energy. The mech was quick to fall to the ground, allowing his frame to shift and relocate for his new alternate form. Wings built off from his spinal support, spinning around his body as he twisted and let them mirror the Blackhawk beside him.
Flamewar was slower to follow her counterpart, stalling for a nanoclick longer before she strode forward, studying her new alt without hiding the displeasure from her expression. Her servo slid over the wings, taking in their angled shape with a degrading twist of her sharp features. She drew back her arm, curling in her digits as if she'd been shocked. "This alt is too large, I'm not built as a flyer." she noted, turning toward Arachnid. The leader's lip plates pressed into a hard line, unsatisfied with this sudden information. Snapping around, the Decepticon fembot surveyed the crowd of warriors, attempting to single out a specific one. "Astrotrain!" she called, causing the mech to nearly drop his cargo in surprise.
The large mech set his armful of supplies on the ground, using the long length of his legs to stride over to his awaiting Mistress. Arachnid gestured to Flamewar, who's lip plates fell open in a rebuttal. "You are to escort Flamewar to her designated mission alongside Soundwave, in order to retrieve the designated target. Your larger form will be essential in transporting this said target once it is retrieved."
"I would be happy to, Mistress." the mech leered mischievously, casting a dark, suggestive look over towards the awaiting fembot. Flamewar snorted at him, crossing her arms over her chassis while her eyes shadowed over into a deep maroon. "Touch me, and I put a hole through your spark." she hissed menacingly.
Satisfied that her orders were to be carried out and handled by a few of her best, Arachnid turned away and glided across the way towards the ship's open hatch, stopping dead when she caught an odd sound in her audio. Targeting in on the noise, she found an obnoxious buzzing, with a few stray clicks here and there. A knowing smirk crossed her lip plates, her digits twitching the launching springs inside her lower palm. In the shutter of an optic, the fembot whirled around, throwing up her arm. Barely taking any time to get an aim, the fembot released a net of silken webs. The billowing substance flew into the air and encased around the shape of a roaming drone, wrapping around and latching on to the entirety of the aircraft. In a matter of sparkbeats, the drone's systems shorted out, causing it to spin out of control and spiral nosecone-first into the hard ground.
Without missing a beat, Arachnid was turning back to her counterparts, crossing her arms over her chassis as her sly grin stretched widely across her features. Primus, that felt good.
Tucked deep within the bowls of the structure, large, imposing figures huddled near in a bundle of stark frigidness. The air surrounding them was still and completely silent, excusing the occasional venting or breath from their organic comrades. Walls, slick with the dew of the night, ran down the spinal supports of those leaning against it, their body language nothing short of exhaustion. Multiple beings sat close together, the smaller natives of the planet seeking a chance of rest from the lengthy stretch of twilight. One however, continued to pace, nearly treading a line into the concrete as he continuously moved from side to side before those occupying the space.
A single Cybertronian, a smaller black and purple fembot, approached on the scene, taking in the sights of her counterparts as she made her way back from patrol. When her sight met her Prime's, she gave a grim shake of the helm and sank into the lap of Grimlock. Even with the visor and mask, Sideswipe was easily able to recognize the signs of disappointment in the fembot's movement. Giving a small groan, he let his helm fall back against the wall, transmitting all of his annoyance toward his twin, whom happened to be sitting beside him, caught in a considerate quiet.
The golden mech snorted at his sibling's show of boredom, flashing him an irritated glare from above his arm. They sat on his raised kneebolts, his servos clenched between. "Maybe you wouldn't be so bored if you'd talk with the others." Sunstreaker noted blandly, his tone less than happy to be stuck for so long without recharge or something to hit. Sideswipe revved his vents, catching the attentions of a few humans and Autobots nearby, "That's no fun. I just wanna blow up some 'Cons."
"Well I would agree with you, but seeing as Rethalia refuses to allow us outside, we'll probably stay this way for awhile."
"Maybe I can convince her to let us loose...If that doesn't work, we can always sneak out and raise some Pit."
"Don't pester me when she says no. Or you get caught."
A snort came from the silver twin, his optics rolling at his brother's grouchiness and rare refusal to commit mischief. They were all low on energy, seeing as they hadn't refilled on energon in quite some time. The humans were running out of liquids and nourishment, causing the time the group had to think to drastically decline. If it were only the Cybertronians, they could have been here for groons at a time without the need for replenishment. However, seeing as the humans needed hydrogen oxide nearly every few set hours, it was becoming increasingly stressful to figure out a plan of action. They needed something, and fast.
Communications were down, so that was one less variable for them to use. Rethalia had announced long ago that she could not reach Optimus through their bond, cutting out yet another option. Sideswipe shifted on his aft, crossing his legs before him and gazing around the gathered. Rainwing and Smokescreen were sitting together towards the front of the line, placed beside the resiliently concentrated Rethalia. Hound was across the Prime, situated beside a small group of soldiers, all of whom were using him as a sleeping berth. Arcee was already on her peds, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her midsection and her optics aimed at the floor. Mirage was in front of her, silently listening to Epps as the Captain continued to vent his frustrations.
The whole of the Dinobots lounged at the back, with Grimlock's attention fully on the fembot in his lap. Wasn't her designation Nightmare? Their words were spoken in hushed tones, meant for them alone to hear. Swoop and Sludge were conversing with each other, neither seemingly pleased at their prevention from violent action either. Slag and Snarl rested towards the back, both occupying themselves by fiddling with the various junk they'd found laying nearby. Sideswipe rose to his peds and strode over to the pink fembot standing alone, his lack of entertainment driving him to bother her in her solitary time.
"Why are we standing around like this?" he began, causing Arcee's helm to snap up at the sound of his voice, "Why don't we charge out there and force them to back down? The Dinobots are here for Primus sake."
"Because we are horribly outnumbered, to the point where even the Dinobots would be overrun." she stated simply, sighing a rattling cycle of air, "I would be right there with you and Sunstreaker, making those 'Cons ever regret attacking us, but Rethalia is our Prime..." the fembot paused to let her optics shutter and her faceplates tilt forward, "and whatever she says, goes." this gained an exasperated moan from the silver mech, his shoulderbolts falling in defeat. No matter what he argued, there would always be some form of repercussions involved with it. It was almost as if there were some form of upper power, turning everything against him and making well sure he never had luck. It had been Primus-knows-how-long since he'd really gotten a good fight out of any Cybertronian, and that had been when Solas had gone haywire.
The glory days when he'd been a Gladiator was where Sideswipe had gained his skills. He and his brother were among the top in the arena, right behind Megatron himself. They'd fought like no other, held talents like no other, and killed with a numb spark. They'd killed for other's entertainment. It hadn't been something Sideswipe had really enjoyed doing, but he had grown used to the idea of riding out his sentence in the pits over some vorns. It was Sunstreaker who he had grown worried for. That mech never truly showed any sense of emotion in the arena. It was always some form of sick enjoyment disguised in his features as he ripped the spark from an opponent's chassis. Sideswipe would always have been there for him, pulling him out of his faze before he possibly went too far, but there was always a dim concern at the back of his processor that he may not be able to stop him...that he may one kalon...
"How the Pit did you get on this frequency?" Rethalia's voice suddenly split the still, making every conscious being look her way. The Prime was raising onto her peds, her servo by her audio and her faceplates focused. Sideswipe felt his sibling's curiosity peek, and he saw the twin picking up his golden helm to glance at his silver brother. Sideswipe noticed the stark scowl on Sunstreaker's faceplates and Sideswipe frowned at the realization that he'd been projecting. All these vorns having practice controlling his side of their bond, and he was still projecting accidentally.
"What is it you want Flamewar? I don't have the patience for your games." Rethalia went on, turning towards her assembled Autobots. Sideswipe could see the emotions running ramped across the fembot's faceplates as she listened in on the Decepticon. How did they even connect to her comlink? Snarling softly, Sideswipe curled in his servos. What a dirty, sneaky trick! He'd always despised the sneaky glitch Flamewar, from the moment he'd first fought with her. She was a sly, overbearing, hot-helmed, spoiled, abstruse fembot with no life goal other than to piss off her peers in any way possible. "The humans are not involved in our quarrels, let them leave." the stony iciness in Rethalia's tone was enough to make Sideswipe shudder. He stepped towards his brother, who was now climbing to his peds. "What do you think they want?" he murmured, leaning over.
Sunstreaker stared at Rethalia, studying her body language. "I have no clue," as they spoke, Rethalia's faceplates dropped and her expression became horrified, "but it can't be good." their Prime was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. There was no way to tell what she could possibly be thinking, but by the way she was switching between frigid ire and suppressed horror, they knew they wouldn't like what they'd hear. "Absolutely not. That is out of the question." she denied, burrowing her optic ridges together. For a moment longer, she listened in, and then it all seemed to be over. It was after this time that Rethalia finally let her arm go limp, allowing it to swing by her side before it stilled. They only had to wait a mere nanoclick in the still before Rethalia spoke:
"They want an Autobot."
Immediately, the first though to come to Sideswipe's processor was to launch forward and offer himself. But before he could, Sunstreaker barred and arm across his chassis, shaking his helm. Robert Epps stomped across the paths of the Cybertronians, stopping before Rethalia with an anxious air about him. "What's going on?" he demanded, glancing between her and those around him. Rethalia scrubbed a servo across her faceplates, exposing her fatigue for the world to see. "We are pinned in a situation that I fear is extremely outrageous." she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. Even this soft volume of her voice caused Sideswipe to believe it would collapse the walls. The tenseness here was unfathomable.
"The Decepticons want an Autobot offering. A prisoner." she informed wearily, her optics downcast not just to look to the male, but to maybe hide the confliction there. There was no way Rethalia would even consider the Decepticon's verbal clause, but then there was the issue of what they would do because they declined. Epps placed both hands on his hips, turning to the side and showing his concentrated expression to those behind him. "What about humans?" he inquired quietly, not looking up as he spoke, "Will they take me?"
"No one is sacrificing theirself for the sake of our freedom. We have no proof to base our trust on that the Decepticons will come through." she stated firmly, addressing not only the human, but her Autobot comrades as well. Nonetheless, this didn't stop Sideswipe from wanting so badly to offer himself. If it meant he would be able to get out of this stuffy base and into the outdoor spaces, he would have given himself up long ago. However, it was his brother who was keeping him from being so brash- which was odd seeing as the golden frontliner was one of, if not the most, ruthless Autobots on this planet.
Shifting behind the twins had them both twisting their helms, catching the leader of the Dinobots and his fembot comrade coming to a stand. Nightmare grabbed his shoulderbolt and swung herself gracefully atop, sitting with a servo on his helm and a leg draped down. "Grimlock will do it." the hulking Dinobot growled, his graveled tone reverberating through the space. Rethalia perked up at his comment, as did the twins, "And wherever he goes, I go." Nightmare added in loyally, jabbing a thumb in the mech's direction. Sideswipe deflated slightly when the pair volunteered, seeing as his chance for action had officially dwindled.
Rethalia could be seen to shake her helm, her arms crossing over her chassis. "As I said before, there is not a single being in this room to offer themselves to the Decepticons. That includes Dinobots." her order was met with a cease of words, "They requested a Cybertronian that had relations with Fera Lennox. Most likely to extract information concerning her..." this dip in conversation caused the density in the air to thicken once again. Sideswipe pushed Sunstreaker's arm away, fully committed to marching out the door and shooting some 'Con aft. Yet, even when his brother didn't intercede this time, Arcee did, promptly cutting him off when she strode forward to confront Rethalia.
"I've met Fera, and I still have the tracker Optimus gave me." she announced, producing the small device from a subspace in her bracer, "If I give myself up, someone can track me and we can find the Decepticon base. All they want is an Autobot, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then it's a win-win situation."
Rethalia sighed again, "Arcee, there is no win when a fellow Autobot is in Decepticon influence. Though we may be able to track you, there is no promise that the signal won't be interrupted or that they will spare your life. I refuse to allow you to take that risk."
"It's my life Rethalia, therefore it is my choice." Arcee stated defiantly, tucking the tracker deep within the armor of her chassis, "I'm sorry if I'm resisting authority, but I have to do this. For all of us." and before any of the Autobots could react, Arcee transformed and shot forward, using her slim form to dive right between Rethalia's legs and shoot off into the hall, towards the awaiting light of the entrance. Sideswipe started after her, as did Rethalia. The two Autobots only got so far before Sunstreaker grabbed his brother and Smokescreen and Hound wrapped their arms around Rethalia. "Arcee, no!" Rethalia shouted almost desperately as she fought to run after her friend, "Arcee! Arcee!"
Arcee's retreating fuchsia blur of a form became enveloped by the milky clutches of the moon's light, the sounds of her reforming following suit after. Voices drifted down the halls, fuzzy black silhouettes surrounding Arcee in a matter of astroseconds. Poor, poor Arcee was shoved to the ground, her cries clearly heard even from where Sideswipe stood. He winced when one of the 'Cons restrained her and roughly yanked her back to her peds, proceeding to shove her further forward until none of their shapes could be seen any longer.
Sideswipe growled and whipped away from his brother, utterly furious a himself for allowing Arcee to escape. What an idiot! he fumed. That fembot didn't have a clue what the Decepticons were capable of when they had a hostage. The twins were well aware of the threats and the pains and the unnecessary violence, but did she? Was she strong enough to survive them? All they wanted was information, so maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't kill her until they got it.
Slowly, Smokescreen and Hound retracted back from their leader, allowing her shoulderbolts to sag and her helm to shake from side to side. A long, low growl escaped from her, followed by the fembot ripping around and aiming her optics at the floor, her servos clenched. "Frag it," she hissed, her optics shuttering closed, "what am I going to tell the others? Primus, Bumblebee..."
Sideswipe felt a pang in his spark at the mention of the yellow scout. It was clear he had a relationship going on with Arcee, and that he cared deeply for her. But what would he do now that she was in the grips of the Decepticons?
Suddenly things seemed a whole lot less fun...
Fera Rosalie Lennox, a normal, everyday girl from Amoret, Missouri. A dash of smartass and stupidity later, and bam! She's caught up in a giant alien war with the enemy hunting her for a necklace with unfathomable power!
Jeez, what a movie that would be...
Said human plopped awkwardly to the ground, her cast swinging below her as her legs hung free. Nighttime was fully upon the earth, sharing beautiful waves of diamonds on the black glass of the sky. A cool breeze wafted through, ruffling her clothes and hair with the frigid cold. The chill bit at her nose and caused her to give a small shiver, the coat she wore not providing enough for her warmth. Beside that, she couldn't have been more relaxed, sitting on a scaffold, by the door, staring out into the outside world.
Remaining inside had been difficult considering she hadn't been allowed in nature for quite some time, and she was seriously paying for it. A milkier tinge had befallen her already ivory pigment, while her dirty blonde hair was steadily turning brunette. The lack of vitamin D had been because of the obstinate, and incredibly stubborn, Ratchet the Hatchet, whom, she might add, had forbidden her to step foot outside until her ankle had healed and she was properly fit for sustaining against the weather. All she could do now was sit and twaddle her thumbs, maybe bother Solas for a bit, and then visit whomever she could however many times before they became annoyed.
For the past twelve hours, Fera had found herself drifting far less. Maybe it had been her latest fit wearing on her, or the lack of communication from the Diego Garcia team, or probably -most likely- the sudden drop of information on her about her necklace being not-so-much-a-necklace. Basically said: her life was being questioned at the moment. She'd grown used to the fact that her father was no longer here, and that he was to meet her someday -hopefully- on the other side. But with this new hit on her life, she'd realized that what he'd left behind for her- that one thing that still remained though he had gone, wasn't even apart of him like she had originally believed. It wasn't even human at all. No. It was Cybertronian. A Cybertronian present given to her by her father. There wasn't a single essence of him inside, only the gesture.
Sighing, Fera slouched lowly against the bar, growing tired of watching the lurking figures that seemingly glided on the night like it was a river. It was easy to remember who was patrolling the perimeter of the base, seeing as they'd done nothing but this since communication had been lost from the Diego Garcia team. The Fabials had been an interesting group, especially considering they could turn into mythical creatures. It had become clear that they hadn't based themselves off of anything from the Earth, seeing as they were as old as they were. But, to her utter amusement, Fera had discovered that they were indeed the muses for human legends and fictional creatures. They were it. At first, she hadn't believed, but as her skeptical chuckling had been met with nothing but a blank look of seriousness from Cameo, leader of the Fabials, Fera had come to understand that the fembot was far from humorous.
Something bumped against the girl's hand and she drew back, glancing over her shoulder. Right beside her, standing alone in it's black and orange confetti wrapper, was a single Halloween cupcake. A bat ring sat on top, flashing pearly-white fangs and vividly red eyes. Fera cocked a smirk and picked up the surgery snack, promptly peeling back the paper and removing the ring from the bright orange frosting. She licked the ring clean and slipped it on her finger, admiring it way too much to possibly be appropriate, and then she bit into the treat. It was just how she remembered sugar to taste- although it was slightly better, for she hadn't consumed anything unhealthy in months at least.
Finding herself pleasantly sucking the orange from her fingers before falling prey to her original boredom, Fera hung onto her fading sugar-pleasure for as long as possible. When that eventually ended, she groaned and threw her chin into her hands, balancing her elbows on the lowest bar of the rails. A flash of light caught her eye and Fera glanced up, snatching the lightning fast profile of Beta, the Fabials' Weapon Specialist. At first, she didn't recognize the shifty figure, so she'd jumped. In doing so, she knocked her head right into the next bar, causing a loud ring to hit the air, followed by the curious gaze of Beta and another, lighter set of green eyes beside him. Seeing a giant Cerberus stalking in the dark was not a normal sight, nor would it ever be. Rubbing her sore scalp, Fera produced an embarrassed smile and climbed to her feet, moving as quick as her ridiculous cast would allow. When would she get used to seeing them? A dragon, Cerberus, serpent, phoenix, lycan, and gryphon...not your everyday stuff.
Instead of making a fool of herself any more, Fera hurried down the first hall she could find and she ducked around the corner, hopefully cutting off the piercing views of Beta and his peer. A moment of silence followed her still body, along with the rustling of the trees outside the entrance door. A sigh broke through the quiet, making Fera lock up again when the sound seemed incredibly louder than she'd anticipated. Quickly, she strode away from the wall she had been standing at and started for God-knows-where.
As her mind returned and the conscious fact that maybe it wasn't a good idea to get lost in a monstrous base, Fera forced herself to get a good look around and figure out where she'd gone off to. There was a moment she felt as she was spinning around, trying to find some familiar marker, that she wished so badly for a layout map. Like the ones they had at the zoo. Or Six Flags.
Thankfully, her eyes found a sign that was recognizable to her. A single, long, double-sided hallway with soaring metal doors and a larger one at the back. Directly located at the finish of the hall was the open space for another pathway. It was at this time of wandering and dangerous oblivion that Fera found herself in the Cybertronian wing of the base. "Crap." she muttered under her breath, slowly beginning forward again. There were no keypads here, at least not human ones, nor anything remotely similar to a made-for-organics machine in sight.
Maybe it was her dumb luck, or maybe someone was watching out for her and decided to enact pity on her lost mind, for the door to one of the rooms hissed aside, allowing a mech to exit the space beyond. White and red paint covered his body, with an idle weapon on his shoulder and a red helmet on his head. He was focused on a strange board in his hands, one that Fera thought looked like glass with glowing images scrolling across the front. Racking her brain, Fera fumbled for the name of the mech, only to come up empty on more than one account. All she knew was that it had Red in it.
"Hey...um...Red?" she flinched at the pathetic excuse of a greeting, her hand raised in a weak wave. Red looked up from the weird board he was holding, his bright eyes following Fera's every move as she approached. "Fera Lennox. That is your designation?" he inquired, Fera giving a nod in response, "Well hello to you as well Fera Lennox." he smiled, his tone friendly. The human walking towards him swung her arms, giving a small smile when she heard the 'Bot's use of her name. "Fera is fine, thanks. There's no reason to be so formal." she reached the mech and turned her attention to the room he left, daring to be nosy. Before the seam of the doors shut, she swore she saw a flash of yellow and orange in that room.
Intrigued, Fera tilted her head back to see Red better, her eyes curious as he kneeled down closer to her. "Alright then," he said, shifting on his feet and placing the clipboard-looking device on his knee, one arm slung over it, "my designation is Red Alert, although, since it appears we are no longer apt to formalities, you may continue to refer to me as Red if it pleases you." Fera's cheeks grew hot in embarrassment. She'd completely forgotten this 'Bot's name! But thank goodness that he apparently didn't seem to notice. Pushing her mistake to the side for a later self-scolding, Fera nodded towards the closed set of doors, her eyebrows slightly bunched, "Who's in there? Is it Rodimus?" she asked. Red Alert's face fell, his warm expression turning surprised, and then grim. "Yes," he answered, more giving a sigh than confirming her thoughts, "it is Rodimus. I was performing a checkup on his systems, just to make sure he was coming along, but..." he trailed off, averting his gaze, "I fear he has taken severe damage to his recollection files concerning the time spent from his landfall to his rescue. He remembers almost nothing of it, though he does make breakthroughs every so often, only to fall into a nervous fritz."
"That's so sad..." Fera murmured, once again looking to the metal barrier. Memories of the wrecked warrior ran through Fera's head, reminding her of just how close they had all come to dying at the hands of the enemy. Shivering involuntarily, Fera rubbed an arm, suddenly feeling guilty. After all this time being back at base, she hadn't visited him once. Titanios, she'd talked to a few times. However, Rodimus had been the lasting loose end she had yet to tie up, sitting alone and pained in a room that she was sure was boring enough to make him go perfectly insane. "Is it ok if I see him?" she wondered, still staring at the blockade as if it would move simply from her eyes, "I haven't been able to see him since the whole Decepticon fiasco. I'd like to properly thank him for helping me."
For a moment, Red Alert looked conflicted. Fera could tell he wanted to say no- Rodimus was a dangerous amnesiac after all. But, at the same time, it looked like her words were hitting deep with him. Finally, the mech rose to his peds and started to punch in the correct keys for the door, passing a last glance at Fera before opening it. "Rodimus is slightly unstable at the moment..." he paused, "if anything happens, I want you to scream as loud as you can. I will stay out here in the occurrence that something may go wrong."
"Thanks." she choked out, swallowing the lump in her throat before she turned towards the open room and started inside. The vision of Solas going berserk had burned itself into the front of her brain, forcing her to relive that moment of actual fear once again. He had been so close to hurting Ratchet...
The thoughts quickly were shoved aside, allowing Fera to focus on what was ahead of her. The air surrounding her felt to drop a few levels, a chill running up her spine. It couldn't possibly be in her imagination, could it? Ignoring that as well was difficult to do as Fera rubbed her arm and stopped dead the second those doors clicked shut behind her.
As originally suspected, the room was sparsely furnished and had little to look at beside the array of medical tools lined up on the small counter over in the corner. It was grey on all sides of the walls, encasing the mind in a giant ashy deathtrap. This was the breeding ground for psychopathy, she was sure of it. On the giant metal bed towards the back of the room, a single slumped figure sat. Knowing it to be Rodimus, Fera pushed her own uncertainties off and took one step after the other forward.
Rodimus appeared situated with his legs over the side of the bed, his arms draped over his knees, and his head hanging. A new splash of paint coated the flaking excuse of color from before, giving the mech a cheeriness that was beside his expression at that moment. Most of the dents had been knocked out of his armor, while a majority of the scratches and charred pieces of metal couldn't be seen. Although he looked like a complete new mech, Fera knew deep down that this was the same Cybertronian whom had saved her from her hellish nightmare, giving her a second chance. She owed this stupidly brave 'Bot her life.
"Rodimus...?" she murmured, jumping when the mech's head snapped up. Those same cobalt-blue orbs that had bore into her hanging in the Decepticon hold did the same now, causing her to stop once again, at least ten feet away from the Cybertronian's dangling feet. One hand now wrapped around the Stone of Primus, Fera blinked and fought to gather her thoughts, "Do you...do you remember me?"
All she got at first was a blank stare. There was no sense of recollection in those deep, soul-searching eyes, and it saddened her greatly to think that this mech wouldn't know who she was. And he had been such a big part of her life...
"Yes. Fera." he suddenly piped up, his voice betraying his obvious fatigue. But along with his tiredness, there was a hint of curiosity; of relief. A smile stretched across Fera's face, followed by a joyed wave of comfort throughout her. He remembered. "I came here to say thank you...for saving my life." she announced next, releasing a pent-up breath that she hadn't even noticed she was holding. Rodimus nodded towards her, but he didn't say anything, making the girl shift awkwardly. She didn't do well with silence, and now that she had said what she needed to, she should have left. But, despite that, she felt a deeper will to stay here and talk. There was something she needed to ask him about...
The flat faces of her pendant felt smooth and cool in her fingers, the dim buzzing she felt coming off of it nothing like the warm vibrations she felt randomly throughout the day. They usually followed one of her fits, whenever she blocked out Sol and her chest hurt, or even when she was near Solas. The Stone had become so much more now that she knew what it was...the Stone...
She very well could have smacked herself in the face right there.
"Rodimus, there's something else I'd like to talk with you about." Fera started, beginning forward until she was standing right below the bottoms of his feet. Rodimus bent over, observing her as she came closer. He finally reached down, carefully scooping her up -minding her broken ankle- and setting her beside him. Here, Fera was easily able to see his face without having to make her neck so sore by bending it back. Rodimus placed his arms back over his legs, but he continued to watch her steadily as he did so. "Before you do, do you mind if I ask what that is on your digit?" he questioned, nodding towards her. Fera screwed her eyebrows together for a moment, confused. But then, the meaning struck her and she lifted her hand, flashing the plastic red-eyed bat ring she'd gotten from the Halloween cupcake. "Oh this?" she gestured to it and Rodimus nodded, "Just a little Halloween ring."
"Halloween?"
"It's a human celebration. Like when little kids dress up and go to houses for candy."
"Ah, I see. And the point of this is?"
Fera paused, thinking for a moment. "I don't really know actually. It's some kind of Pagan holiday having to do with witches and baptism." she shrugged, "It's really old, so I wouldn't know that much about it."
They both fell back into an accompanied quiet, clearly falling off track of their original conversation. As Fera opened her mouth to correct their course, Rodimus spoke up again, "What is this something you wished to speak with me about?" he pressed, watching as Fera lifted her cast and slowly lowered herself into a sitting position, laying her foot down in Indian-style. "The Stone of Primus." she stated simply, "I want you to tell me all you know about it. Anything would help me. Anything at all."
Rodimus was silent for a long time. He looked unsure about the subject, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. And by the diagnosis that Red Alert had given, she wouldn't have been surprised. But then, the mech's optics lit up and he sat straighter, laying a hand beside him as he twisted around to face her better, "The Stone of Primus..." the miniscule flicker of his optics downward let Fera know he was looking to the object now, maybe assessing it. After a moment, Fera grabbed it, knocking him out of his daze. "It would be easier for me to explain what I don't know if I were to tell you the legend of the Stone first." he noted, gazing away from her and into the distance before him avidly. What he didn't know? What was that supposed to mean?
"The legend of the Stone of Primus begins with Primus himself." Rodimus crossed his legs over the bed, setting his hands inside and watching them as if he'd never seen them before, "Primus, brother of the Chaos-Bringer Unicron, was one of the first sentient beings in the universe known as The One. Though they were two of the same, it was eventually known to Primus, the Order-Bringer, that his sibling was indeed corrupt, forcing him to act upon his brother's wicked ways." Fera found herself completely entrapped in this story, her body preventing her from making a single noise that may interrupt it. Rodimus peered at the human and flashed his serious expression without care, "Primus knew he was no match for Unicron, thus leaving the Order-Bringer with no option other than to rely on the superior intelligence he held over his brother."
Rodimus removed one of his hands and he set it down on the table, leaning against it, "They traveled to the realm of physicality, where their astral forms were trapped in the manifestation of large metal planetoids." during this time, Fera begin to imagine these images taking place among the stars. Celestial waves coursing and twirling like a cosmic tornado as two astronomical entities made their presence known- appearing as nothing turning into something. They clashed and fought, sending incredible surges of energy across the birthing universe. She saw the stars manifesting and the inconceivable expanse of galaxies and masses of space bodies as they swirled into existence from literally nowhere. Everything that couldn't be turning into things that were, already there, yet masked behind the barrier of obscurity. The only thing that needed to be done, was to exist.
"Over time, Primus realized his sacrifice may have been in vain, for Unicron had gained the ability of transforming his body into a multitude of varying forms, thus allowing him a loophole through his sibling's attempt at a prison. Primus found he also held the capability of reformation, however he refrained from doing so seeing as his last power-struggle with Unicron had failed. Instead, he used shards of his life force to create other sentient beings." he paused, locking eyes with Fera. Fera's eyes darted around as she sunk in the information, her mind spinning with all that was being given to her. Was she supposed to know all of this? Did anyone else know but the 'Bots? This was the advent of Cybertronian creation, and it made Fera swallow in discomfort to know that she was being told something that none other probably had.
Sighing, Rodimus continued, "These thirteen forms of sentience came to be known as the original Thirteen, and the first of the Cybertronian race. They were Primus' own force against Unicron, one whom maybe able to win against his battle for darkness. One of their brothers however, forever known as The Fallen, betrayed them and joined Unicron, halting their fight for salvation. Eventually, their long fight seemed to have drawn to a close as both Unicron and The Fallen were sentenced to the farthest, longest reaches of space, where none were to be found or lost. The Void, as I recall it's referred to as." Rodimus cocked his head to the side, thinking for a moment. In the meantime, Fera was trying to place the name The Fallen. It was vaguely familiar...
"Beside that, The Fallen and the other twelve of the original Thirteen slipped from existence, one by one, ever passing on the Matrix of Leadership and mantle of Prime to forever connect our civilization with our Creator. The Fallen, as you have probably been told, was finally put to rest by Optimus, ending the rein of the Thirteen once and for all." so that's where she had heard the name.
"I'm sorry," Fera cut in, raising a finger cautiously, "as interesting as this story is, I still don't understand what this had to do with my neck- err, the Stone of Primus." at her words, Rodimus frowned, causing Fera to drop her hand in a feeling of stupidity. She felt as if she were missing something. But what that could be, she didn't know. Rodimus was throwing her hint after hint, yet she just was not getting it. Giving a sheepish smile, Fera's head sunk into her shoulders self-consciously. Rodimus seemed to want to take pity on her, for his face softened and he went on after a moment of silence, "Primus shared his spark with these Thirteen, correct? When each spark extinguished, they joined with the Matrix and was forever lost to the stars. And in legend, it was said that even after deadspark, the original Thirteen held paranormal abilities much like their original Creator. Primus is eternal, therefore, the sparks he shared himself with are as well. It was then, throughout time, that their sparks came to be known as the Shards of Primus." as if Fera weren't getting the message, Rodimus jabbed a finger at her, making her tighten her grip on her necklace.
"The Stone of Primus is merely one, apart of the Shards of Primus. Not the spark of Primus, but a spark of Primus." he explained bluntly, "You hold in your hand: one of the original Thirteen."
Poor Bee, what's he gonna think about Arcee being captured?
Whatever Arachnid plans on doing to her won't be good :/
Beside that,
I never realized how many different versions of the Primus/Unicron story there were!
This chapter was frustrating to write, that's for sure
*Chapter inspiration: The Best Is Yet To Come= Red*