Rated: M for adult themes: language, violence, mental rape, character death, mech erotica, torture, gore, and suicidal ideation. This varies from chapter to chapter, so read at your own risk.

Important Note: I started this series of fics before Revenge of the Fallen hit the theaters. This is an A.U. 2007 movie verse fic, NOT a ROTF/DOTM/AE/LK/BB or whatever follows fic.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own in this work of complete fiction is Velocity/Sira and Hardcore. They are mine. Everything else is copyrighted and owned by some really rich people. I make no money from this but wish I could.

XxxX

Full Velocity: Apocalypse code

Chapter 3: Home Fires

XxxX

The air in the hangar sat stagnant, full of heavy smells that never moved. A handful of mechs waited patiently for their turn beneath Ratchet's welder and sarcasm. The bare lights overhead hummed monotonously and cast deep shadows. A tub of used tools sat off to the side, and a medibot aide furiously cleaned and returned them to the rack, ready for another patient.

The only good thing about being triaged to near the end of the line meant she wasn't seriously injured, just in pain, and that gave her time to complete her report. Sitting on a makeshift exam table, Velocity looked up from her datapad, searching for the proper phrasing, and absently watched the medic clean debris from Sideswipe's injury. The snippets of conversation she overheard made her believe the red twin had ignored a warning and been introduced to the Law of Gravity by a large, sharp object. The femme returned to typing up her report.

"Just hold still, you wiggly glitch," Snarled Ratchet.

A smile tipped the corners of the femme's mouth. Then a memory of Sideswipe stomping a Decepticon to death wiped it away.

"Hey, hey. You want to see me?" Roadhazard jubilantly called as he strolled toward her. His frame deftly avoided the cluttered area and Ratchet's vicinity.

Any gaps in her plating closed, an involuntary reflex similar to the hair on a dog's hackles raising at a threat. On an exam table next to her, Slipknot shifted, a frown creasing his golden features. He needed not to get involved as his damaged ped sat next to him like an obedient puppy. She would never get over seeing someone's body parts lying around, casually waiting for reattaching.

Velocity shot the immobile mech a stern look with a shake of her head.

Slipknot huffed his vents.

Saving her report for later, Velocity turned the datapad over and laid it screen-side down next to her. After this exchange, she would have to edit part of the report.

Coming to a stop in front of her, Roadhazard smiled as if nothing in the world were amiss and his future offered boundless opportunities.

Velocity wanted to wipe that smile off his face. Choking back a growl and folding her hands in her lap, she began. "I was hoping to address this later, but since you are here, I'll make it fast." She blinked once, staring him in the optics. "You are off my team." Blunt and direct, she saw no reason to waste time softening the blow, not that she wanted to. His actions left the team exposed to attack. Just thinking about it tightened the hypercoils in her neck.

The mech reacted immediately. The cocksure smile plummeted from his face, and optics widened as anger crackled around him. "What the frag!" he yelled, "Why?"

All optics turned toward them as Cybertronian chatter came to an instant stop.

Velocity wanted to punch the mech. Instead, she squeezed her laced fingers together and remained calm. The new arrivals viewed her as a quasi-extension of the Prime, and her actions reflected on him, a bullshit notion but one she had to live with.

A hard edge sliced along her words, "Derelict of duty, insubordination, being an all-round slacker - pick one. You left your assigned position for reasons you have yet to explain; therefore, you are off the team."

Roadhazard balled his hands into fists and stepped toward her. "You know it wasn't like that. Had I known the 'Con was there, I would have had your back."

The femme shivered, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Every hypercoil in her frame tensed, and the pain in her back increased, slithering into her helm, a tight knot of hard frustration. "This isn't a game," she growled. "People are dying, and the Decepticons are still around. If you cannot do as ordered - if no one can trust you, you have no place on my team or this planet."

Leaning closer, the mech snarled. "You can't stand it because I won't kiss your precious, little aft. All you are is a pretty little…"

"Enough," roared Ratchet, the end of his walking cane thudding against Roadhazard's chest. Injured when the Decepticons had collapsed Alpha Base, the old 'bot had yet to regain full use of his leg, but he proved he could still pick up and throw a mech when needed.

Spinning on his ped, the Autobot stormed out of medical. A torrent of profanity followed him into the evening.

Velocity sighed. She hated the confrontation, but it had to be done.

"Thank you." She offered the old medic a soft smile. He had saved her ass multiple times, and she would never repay the debt.

"Was that necessary? You could have let Ultra Magnus reassign him and avoided the drama." The CMO limped in front of her

"He was on my team. To lead effectively, I must have the authority, not Magnus." She gave Ratchet a tired, humorless smile.

Nodding sagely, the old mech patted her shoulder and mumbled, "Good girl," before returning to Sideswipe.

XxxX

Newly welded and released from Ratchet's care, Velocity wanted to end her day. Right now, she relished the idea of curling up with her oversized patchwork blanket. Optimus had created the hideous thing from multiple mismatched bedspreads with wires to hold them together. He wanted to cheer her up after the destruction of their home, and it worked; she stayed wrapped in it whenever she could.

Stepping into the makeshift building on the far end of the base, she intended to turn in her datapad, make a hasty retreat, then collapse in the storage shed slash new quarters. Located a safe distance from anything flammable, the Autobots used this hastily erected structure as their Command Center and energy plant for the base and town. Mismatched sheets of metal and wood were screwed to I-beams and railroad ties, and in one corner, the turret of a tank held the building up. When touring their new home, she commented that she had seen better-looking structures assembled from junkpiles by preschoolers. She had been asked to "find something else to do."

The hum of the alien generator vibrated her frame, agitating her wounds, as thick cables snaked in and around the floor. The hybridized monster of a generator took up most of the back of the building. Most fed energy to their tiny oasis in the desert of the Null Zone – the Dead Zone, as humans called it. Some cables disappeared underground to keep the lights and refrigerators running in Indian Springs. To the right, a bank of dark monitors, and to the left, Ultra Magnus's chosen workstation.

Looking around, Velocity found only humans loitering, sitting at rickety tables, playing cards; their rifles and shotguns leaning against the nearby wall. A fan circulated the hot air and offered them some comfort. She waved to the guards, and they waved back, more focused on their game than her. No other Autobots nor Ultra Magnus inhabited the area. Nearly skipping, she hurried to return her datapad and disappear.

Approaching the impeccable workstation, she paused. How, in such a dust-filled environment, did that mech keep everything so pristine? Made from an old airplane wing, lifted by concrete blocks taken from a construction site, the desk appeared polished to a high shine. Several data pads rested in a neat stack, a barrel held multiple styluses, and an array of alien tools lined one side of the desk. The urge to move everything half a foot to the left nearly overcame her.

Immature and petty, but she just wanted to fuck with Magnus. Dour, stern, rigid, humorless, the General made a perfect target, and she wanted a target. Someone to serve as an outlet for her frustrations. Instead, she carefully slid her datapad to its charging slot and dropped her unneeded stylus in the barrel with the others. Seeing a smudge on the edge of the desk, she licked her finger and wiped it away.

Spinning to leave, Velocity slammed face-first into the General's crotch. Her head snapped back from the impact, as her aft thudded off the desk. Growling in humiliation, the femme reminded herself that mechs and organic males did not share the same erogenous zones, and the collision only embarrassed her.

A hand clamped on her shoulder to stabilize her. "Excuse you," Magnus grunted.

"Sorry," Velocity mumbled and thanked the gods she had controlled her petulant urges. She did not fear Ultra Magnus but did not know where she stood with him. Optimus respected the mech and trusted him almost as much as Ironhide, but Velocity had yet to decide how she felt about the massive Autobot.

The General deftly stepped around her.

Velocity followed his movements as one watched a bull elephant, quietly and as still as possible.

Magnus took a seat at his workstation, and the femme turned to leave. A nap waited for her.

"One moment."

Velocity hung her head and turned back to the mech. "Yes." She refused to call him "Sir," an area of contention between them. Something about she did not outrank him, no matter who her bondmate. Conversely, she did not give a flying-fuck about his rank.

He had plucked her datapad from its place and scrolled through it. "What do you have to report?" His optics scanned the screen.

Stiffening, she reminded herself that the General had no real power over her because she refused to give him any. Relaxing slightly, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a support post. "We explored five towns," she started. "Two were deserted. The other three had around five hundred living and several thousand dead. Most in a few mass graves. The three communities are geographically close and appear to support each other and share supplies. We could use them to strengthen our supply lines. The details are in my report.

"Of the two abandoned towns, one was ransacked and mostly burned. The other was untouched, stores and homes still stocked, but a Decepticon lived there. The team took care of him, and I would suggest claiming everything in the town to redistribute…."

"What Decepticon?" Ultra Magnus asked, concern leaching into his deep voice. He scrolled furiously, his optics roving over the datapad, then flicked to her, scrutinizing her new welds. "You are not to engage the enemy."

Velocity pulled away from the post. "Well, he engaged me. Your highly recommended security officer sucked at his job and exposed us." Just saying the words ignited the embers of her anger.

"I will address this with him." The General stared her in the optics as he returned her datapad to its charging slot.

"Don't bother," she shrugged. "I already shit-canned him. Just keep him out of my line of sight for a while."

XxxX

Velocity slowly walked to the storage building she and Optimus had claimed as their private area. She mentally reviewed the team's reconnaissance. It wasn't a bad trip; they located two disruptors and, destroyed them, found an entire town unlooted, but, unfortunately, no one was alive to need the supplies. Ultra Magnus was already assembling a wagon team to secure the provisions. Food, clothing, medicine, furniture, pots, pans, books, toys, tools, over multiple trips, anything useful in Desolation would be removed from houses and buildings, then brought back here. Eventually, the buildings themselves would be scavenged to repair existing or make new homes in Indian springs. A small number of refugees had begun arriving, increasing the human numbers

She hated staying at Creech AFB but did not have much of an option. Optimus moved everyone to Nellis Airforce Base, which had been a disaster. The proximity to Las Vegas made them and their human allies easy targets. After confronting anti-robot vigilantes, the Autobots moved further north to Creech AFB.

Small, exposed, and barely fit for mechanoid lifeforms, Creech appeared more of a waystation than a permanent home.

The base commander allowed them to commandeer several buildings. In turn, the Autobots scoured the countryside to destroy enough disruptors to restore partial electricity to the area. Even after all that work, Optimus told his Autobots to remain alert and ready to evacuate if the citizens of nearby Indian Springs became hostile. So far, they had not; the establishment of Cybertronian-created power in the city may have something to do with it. Or maybe because the three hundred or so people living there already had ties to the base. Either way, a tenuous truce had been reached, and everyone benefited from it.

A horse snorted his displeasure at her approach, and Velocity glanced toward the makeshift corral holding a couple of dozen animals, most trotting away from her. Another hastily erected paddock housed cows, while another building was converted into a chicken coop. More adjustments to this new world Soundwave unleashed. Walking and horseback became the primary forms of transportation, and even the Autobots struggled to shift between root and alternate modes when in the Null Zone. With more and more people dying from disease, starvation, and dehydration, securing or rescuing livestock became easier. But keeping that livestock became harder as cattle rustling increased; the market for meat of any kind made a paddock full of animals a tempting target. She nodded to the armed men and women checking the herds, and a couple waved back.

Raising the building's rolling door, Velocity adjusted her optics to the shadows. It appeared the same, if a bit more cluttered. Supply crates filled the front of the building, except for a pathway to the back, where she and Optimus had opened an area for recharge. Their private place away from prying optics and eyes. Bending, she picked up several tools and tossed them to the side, along with boards from the wooden crates. Then uncoupled her sword from her hips, propping it against the wall next to Optimus's battle ax.

A familiar and welcomed electrical field wove into hers, spreading along her back like a shroud wrapping around her. The femme smiled, even knowing he could not see her expression.

"I was getting worried; you are returning a week late," his deep timbre vibrated along her frame.

"Slipknot injured his leg, couldn't transform, and had to limp back. Were you afraid I ran off with another mech?" she chided, carefully adding her ranseur to the assorted weapons. Still smiling, she turned to face her mate.

"That would never happen. How are you?" the Prime asked as his optics traveled over her form. He sat a datapad on a nearby stack of crates and continued toward her. As he neared, he captured her hand in his

"I am dirty. I need a bath and a mani-pedi," she whined.

The Prime offered her a quizzical look. "I don't know what that is, but we are all dirty," he pointed out.

Gently pulling, he led her to the back of the building. Following, the femme relaxed. While this was not her home, she was safe. Within the confines of what amounted to a shed and tucked next to Optimus, she was safe. With each step into their private area, the stress slipped from her and left little pools of frustration to evaporate in the desert heat

"I heard you called the Decepticon a rusty cunt?"

Velocity narrowed her optics at her mate. "The term was rust-covered cunt. Are you telling me I must be polite when someone threatens to kill me?"

A deep cycle of vents warmed the air around the Prime. "No. That would not be a realistic goal. I only want to know whom to blame when Ironhide calls Magnus that, and the fight starts." His chuckle rolled between them.

Velocity flicked her optics upward; the light from a tiny window cut across his armor, painting his flames in dusty squares; clean water was scarce, and they saved it for the humans, forgoing showers and keeping their layers of road grime. "So now you are making fun of me?"

The Prime stepped closer to her, wrapping his long arms around her waist and pulling her against him. Placing her palms on his abdominal plating, her fingers brushed over the gaps in his armor. Tipping her head to the side, she smiled coyly while sliding her hands down, tracing the contours of his hips and inner thighs.

Bright blue optics darkened, and a rumble vibrated deep within the Prime. Without warning, his hands dropped to her aft, and he lifted her, forcing her to lock her legs around him. "I would not make fun of you, but you are funny." His electrical field teased against hers, hinting of things to come.

"I'm funny? Just for that, I have to follow my doctor's orders and take it easy for a few days." She wrapped her arms around his neck

A sly smile lit his expression. "Then I will have to be gentle."

"Yes. Yes, you will," Velocity purred.

XxxX

Authors Notes:

The story of the blanket is told on Full Velocity: Brave New World, a one-shot dealing with the loss of the Autobots' original base.