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 AU 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 9: Raid
XxxX
Snuggled next to Optimus, sleep should have come easily, but she struggled to find meaningful rest. Giving up, Velocity untangled herself from the limbs that held her. Thoughts tumbled erratically in her helm. Words spoken by her mate days ago still haunted her and unsettled the foundations of her life. Silently, she made her way through the storage shed; only hazy moonlight filtered through dingy windows lit her way, but it was enough. Carefully, she opened the rolling door, letting the wheels creep along the track, avoiding the squeaks and rattles of metal against metal. She decided against lowering the door; no one would bother Optimus as he recharged.
A horse nickered, and several others snorted at her; she placed a finger to her lips, trying to convince the beasts to remain quiet. It must have worked; they let her walk past their corral without complaint, only the flicking of ears and swishing of tails whispered from the paddock.
Just a few people witnessed her passing. Guards and a couple of insomniacs turned their heads to watch her walk by before returning to their quiet conversations. These were not the men and women from Alpha Base; these were strangers and not people she cared to get close to. So many died when Soundwave destroyed their home. So many people she knew and trusted lay buried in the desert, people she had laughed with, talked with, and shared silent moments when words were unnecessary. No, she chose not to know the survivors at Creech and Indian Springs; not having them as friends meant she would not be burying friends later.
Her meanderings took her past the hospital, most windows stared at her black and sightless, but a couple glowed softly. One of the barely lit rooms held a friend - a former friend. Counting the windows, Velocity pulled herself up to the ledge and peeked in the fifth one to the left. Nestled within deep shadows and a warm half-light, Reginald Simmons lay on a bed; his pallid vein-lined skin accentuated the dark circles beneath his eyes. Around him, machines beeped and flickered. The agent looked diminished, a shell of himself. All the verve and vitality were gone; she had done that to him.
A deep sigh hissed from her vents. Hopping down and turning away, Velocity let the man sleep. She didn't want to hear his accusations and couldn't defend herself because she couldn't remember that day. She hurt someone she liked, a friend, and she didn't know why. Another reason not to form friendships.
Instead, Velocity chose a solitary perch on the runway, far from the packed and awaiting semi-trailers and the men who guarded them. Lowering herself to the ground, she faced the open desert. A giant moon, fat and bloated, hung overhead, casting the barren land in a silvery glow. Beyond the shining moon, billions of stars twinkled, their cold, inscrutable light traveling for millions of years just to be witnessed by a lone femme on a tiny planet. If Optimus was correct, somewhere out there, her people - no - her creators hid. Her mate called her a guardian, a Nimiric, a beast designed to protect someone else's property.
She turned her scrutiny to the land before her. Is this all the Earth was, someone else's creation, a massive garden to be harvested and consumed? A sigh hissed from her vents. She wanted Optimus to be wrong and his words to be a cruel joke. Yet, deep within her, he struck a chord, a tone of truth that resonated through her.
The black void above held her attention once more. Had her father ever told her what she was, did he even know, or had her entire life been a lie? Thinking back, she tried to remember their discussions and any questions she may have asked him about her nature and freakish differences. She could not recall any such discussions; therefore, she never knew, or the knowledge had fallen into the hole of memory loss the Decepticons graciously gave her. Would her father have even known? He had delved into the more esoteric research but barely discussed life from other worlds - or had he?
Burying her face in her hands, Velocity stifled the scream of frustration. So many things she thought she should know became miry quicksand that devoured part of her identity. Did any of this even matter? Most days, she ignored the gaps, their relevance, and information unneeded. But on nights like this one, she wanted to know; she wanted to know what had been hidden, taken, or denied.
Did it even matter if others had created her ancestors? Optimus didn't mind; over their bond, she sensed his curious excitement when he tried to talk to her about her lineage. He told her they were all the creation of another species and dismissed her comments about being grown in a lab. She knew she did not come from an alien laboratory; scattered, disconnected memories of her youth still lingered. She knew there had been others like her on Earth. Before living in a metal body, if she concentrated, she could sense them intertwined with the pulse of the planet.
Raising her head, ignoring the brittle shimmer of the distant stars and the distant worlds around them, she stared at the horizon, beyond the rough mountains, and into the past. Regret sank into her soul. She should have sought out her kind. She should have gone looking for answers, for understanding, but fear held her back. Fear of discovery, fear of capture, and, finally, admitting to herself, fear of rejection. What if her kind had rejected her? Raised by a human father, she would have been a freak among the freaks. Now it didn't matter; the time for learning about herself had gone, her kind had gone, and she lived in a metal body as one she was designed to protect against.
A shout of alarm pierced the night, followed by the crack of a pistol.
Turning toward the source, Velocity watched as one of the semi-trailer guards collapsed. More shouts and multiple muzzle blasts lit up the darkness, and the echoing booms of a gunfight shattered the stillness.
"Fuck!" Launching to her peds, she pulled the blaster from her hip and sprinted toward the fight.
A bullet bit into her armor at her shoulder, and she spun, protecting the softer metal of her face. The benefit of Creech not being in the Null Zone, she had full use of her body and sent an alarm over the general Autobot channel. "We are under attack!"
Within seconds, the base lit up. Powerful lights split the darkness, lights they kept off to conserve energon. Shouts echoed through the air, accentuated by pops and the ra-ta-tats from guns.
Covering her face with her arm, she ran toward the trailers. As she neared the fallen man, she dropped to her knees to assess him. Already his eyes glassed over as life seeped from the body in a dark pool. Velocity left him where he lay.
Staying low, she scuttled to the trailers and found a second person lying on the concrete. Multiple rounds struck her, ricocheting off her back. Crouching, the femme used a trailer as cover. Checking her wounds, the rounds mainly dented her armor, and only one made its way through—lower caliber bullets meant for hunting game, not armor-piercing rounds that could seriously hurt her.
Taking a deep draw of air, she crouched and listened. Beneath the clamor of confrontations around the base and the terrified screams of horse and cattle, she heard the scuff of shoes on concrete and the ragged wheeze of breathing. Dropping even lower, she glanced beneath the trailer, the toe of a shoe poked from behind a tire. Someone hid behind the trailer furthest from her. A predatory smile curled her lips, and the great cat took over, and on all fours, she stalked her prey. Stowing her blaster, she slinked toward her target.
Velocity slipped around the trailer, searching for the invader. Another scuff of a shoe, and she pinpointed his location. Bolting, the femme charged around the trailer. The two men barely had time to react. The older one raised his rifle, but she smacked him sideways before he could fire. The younger male brandished bolt cutters, a useless defense against a femme. Pouncing, she wrapped both hands around him and twisted to hit the ground sideways, keeping him from getting crushed beneath her. His screams warbled as she jostled him around, the bolt cutters hit the runway with a clang.
The heavy thumps of concrete shattering peds drummed toward her location. Looking up, Optimus came to a stop beside her. Squatting, his legs brushed against her, and his electrical field clung to him with worry. He took the teen from her grasp. "Are you injured?" he asked, his battle mask firmly in place.
"I think I'm good," Velocity answered honestly.
Pressing a finger to an audio finial, the Prime spoke over the general channel and echoed in her helm, "Reports." Offering his free hand, he helped her to her peds.
Different voices offered brief explanations but painted a rough image of the events.
"The horses are secured again."
"Food stores were hit, but they did not get much."
"Half the cows are gone. Humans are saddling horses to round them up. Chromia and I are going with them."
"They tried for the armory."
"In the daylight, we need to run tests on the water in the tanks. They were tampering with them."
"I have three wounded by the southwest fence."
"Several dead by the energon generators."
"Teams are searching the abandoned buildings."
And on it went.
Velocity glanced toward the man crumpled on the ground, the one she backhanded; he did not move, his neck contorted to an impossible angle. Quickly she looked away.
Optimus glared at the youth dangling from his hand. "You have some explaining to do."
XxxX
Bandana, water can, sunglasses, goggles, several articles of clothing, a bedroll, assorted knives, and tools. Nothing unexpected or unusual. Velocity returned all the items to the backpack.
Glancing toward the captive, a young man she tackled during the raid sat in the middle of the airplane hanger. Stripped to his underwear so they could search his clothing, the youth lacked the muscles of a grown man, willowy with exposed ribs and a hairless body. She downgraded his age to the teens. Handcuffed in the front and shackled, the boy was tethered to a truck; defiance tightened his features, but fear hid behind his eyes.
Seeing him imprisoned without bars or a cage unsettled her; it dredged up memories of her own confinement and torture at the hands of the Decepticons. The plate of food and bottle of water sat untouched before him.
Returning the boy's backpack to a corner out of his reach, Velocity turned her attention to the captive. Sitting between the boy and Optimus, she cocked her helm to the side. "What is your name?"
"Fuck you," he snapped with an impressive amount of bravado.
Forcing a small smile, the femme responded, "Weird name.'"
The boy's eyes widened, and the scowl disappeared; he looked more like a child than a young man.
Behind her, Optimus shifted. No one had any luck getting information from the youth, and the Prime had forbidden torture. Her mate dragged her into this, hoping her "skills" with humans could assist. So, they relied on her charm; therefore, they were screwed.
"Seriously, what can we call you? Boy, hey, fuck you - those are rude. You have a name, and I would like to address you by it. My name is Velocity, and you are?"
Chewing on his lip, the captive finally whispered, "Timothy," and looked away.
"Well, hello, Timothy. Behind me are Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime. To your left are a bunch of military people – a General and some others we won't worry about. You have food and water, and no one will hurt you. The big guy with all the fancy flames, he wants you safe and cared for." She rested her elbows on her crossed legs and let Timothy take in the beings around him.
A grumble erupted from the boy's stomach, and he glanced at the food. The smells of fresh bread and warm meat had done their job.
With one finger, Velocity nudged the plate closer to Timothy.
He finally accepted the offering and greedily ate his meal. The ropes binding his writs didn't slow him down as he attacked the sandwich, biting off huge chunks and swallowing them with minimal chewing.
"Why did you attack us?" demanded Ultra Magnus, his mass towering over Velocity and the boy, intimidating and threatening.
Rolling her optics for the captive to see, the femme turned and addressed the mech. Holding her hand up, Velocity quipped, "By the gods. Back off, Magnus. Why don't you leave - actually, how about everyone leave. And you," she pointed to the Base Commander, "Get Timmy some more food."
The Prime nodded to his mech, giving them a silent order. The humans shuffled out beneath his stern gaze; even the base commander shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned.
"Don't forget the food," Velocity called after the general, a wicked smile lighting up her features.
Optimus moaned.
"Are you in charge?" Timothy asked, crumbs tumbling from his mouth.
Velocity scoffed and stretched her arms over her helm. "Nope, I'm just a bitch, and they know it."
Timothy shared a mischievous smile, and the femme subtracted a couple of years off his guessed-at age.
Optimus sighed miserably.
Now she could ask the questions.
XxxX
"The raiding party watched the base, off and on, for several weeks. They hid in the unused areas of Indian Springs…."
"By forcing all of the people into a few blocks, you have left a large section of the town exposed, offering great hiding places in abandoned buildings," Velocity added, her arms crossed over her chest. "Didn't I vote against moving all the survivors to one area? Oh yeah, I did."
Ultra Magnus scowled at her. "It is still more efficient to have all the humans located in one area and expand the electrical grid as needed."
Optimus continued, pointedly ignoring his mate and general, "They were after the cows, horses, and anything they could carry. They did not expect us to offer such a fast response, and we would not have known had one of their party not shot and killed Alan Deering. Several of them escaped. Also, Timothy has asked to remain at Creech, stating he was forced to participate in the raid and does not want to go back to Las Vegas."
The man she watched die had a name; Velocity would prefer not knowing it. She shoved the image of the one she killed out of her mind, he made himself an enemy, but if she lingered too long, thoughts of his supposed life and potential family crept in.
Optimus laid his hand on the top of a semi-trailer and drummed his fingers. "The group came from Las Vegas, and we are headed into their city. Velocity, what are your thoughts on this situation?"
"My thoughts?"
Ultra Magnus smirked.
Velocity pulled away from the trailer she leaned against; the Autobot General had thrown down a gauntlet, and she'd be damned if she just let it lay there. "OK. Do you want to know my thoughts? We are screwed. We should have left immediately after the raid, packed up, and hauled out. The raiding party was from Vegas, and they had been watching us. They know we are planning a trip and must go right through Sin City, right to them. To assume they did not have contact with others in Vegas is stupid. And assuming this was a random raid and not a coordinated effort by a larger group is also stupid."
They all stared at her. Even the stoic General Ultra Magnus appeared to consider her words.
Optimus took the lead. "I concur with her assessment of the situation; we have wasted valuable time and lost the element of surprise. We know many of the citizens of Las Vegas are hostile to us, and following the interstate through the city might be perilous. Velocity, is there a different route available?"
The femme thought for a moment; she had nearly memorized the map of Nevada. "We can head north on Ninety-five, then head east on Six. It would avoid Vegas but add another day to the trip. Or we could blow through Vegas like a bat out of Hell, refusing to stop for anyone or anything."
A decisive nod from the Prime, he had made his decision. "We leave within the hour and go through Las Vegas at the fastest speeds possible."
XxxX
Marcus closely watched the Decepticon - former Decepticon - absolutely despising the robot. Hardcore represented everything Marcus hated, yet the man still found him interesting, a closer look at the enemy.
"You seem to have healed some more," A statement, not a question. So little was known about these aliens, Marcus tried to glean any fragment of information and write it in his journals.
The alien sat in dark building. When this former school offered classes, they owned and maintained their own buses. The bus maintenance building offered the Decepticon shelter. "Of course, I am healing," Hardcore chuckled. Around the mech, odd bits of machines lay jumbled with what looked like bite marks taken out of them.
"But you are metal; you can't heal." Marcus learned to play ignorant around this robot; Hardcore's arrogance and disdain for humans made him easy to manipulate.
Shifting to recline against a yellow bus, Hardcore scoffed. "Of course, we can heal. Cybertronians are cybernetic biologicals, only made from metals instead of proteins. Just like humans, give us the correct diet and time, and we heal our frames."
Marcus sat on a dusty stool, leaning his elbow against the workbench. "But you had us weld plates over your wounds."
"And I watched you get stitches when you fell off that animal and landed on a rock." Marcus turned his arm to see the ragged and crusty wound; the stitches had to stay for another couple of days.
"Does it hurt when you are being welded?"
"Does it hurt when you burn your skin in a fire?" sneered the robot.
Realizing his mistake, Marcus glanced away, accepting the chastisement. He let several seconds float by, listening to the Decepticon cycle his vents, not breathing like living things but part of a complex cooling process.
Glancing around the shop, he noticed Hardcore had rearranged it again, shoving the buses in an "L" shape. The heaps of scrap metal appeared sorted in piles, by what designation he could only guess, and the workbench and stools moved next to the door, offering a place for people - real people to sit when they visited. Who would visit this Decepticon?
But that was not why he was here; he needed more answers. "How certain are you that this bond thing is real and will work?"
Hardcore stared at him; the sky-blue glow of the alien's optics tried to pierce him. "The bond is the only explanation for Soundwave's behavior. Normally, he would strip a prisoner's processor of data, then execute them, but not that femme. I have never seen him back out of a forced interface so quickly, and then he kept her alive and functioning. I surmise he sensed the Prime and the bond. So am I certain of the bond 'thing'? That red doll is not only frying the Prime's circuits but is his friend, partner, confidant, and advisor."
The Decepticon liked to talk, and he liked the attention, offering an easy segue into the next questions. "And if we kill her, the Prime will die quickly?"
"Most likely or be so incapacitated he is easy to terminate." The robot smiled a cold and brutal expression that chilled Marcus's blood.
Choosing to ignore that this alien sold out his own kind, the man pushed a question that had plagued him. "How does this work? I mean, it doesn't make sense. Kill one, and the other dies too?"
Hardcore rolled a length of rebar between his fingers before nipping the end of it off and chewing. Swallowing, the Decepticon shrugged. "No one is certain. It is assumed that during the bonding process, spark material exchanges, linking the pair forever. Beyond that, no one knows. Ask your quantum physicists; they might have an idea.
"All I know is that Prime almost died when he lost his first bondmate. No one expected him to survive, but he has never been the same. It reduced him, took part of him away. Those around him said they could feel the difference in his electrical field."
Making a note to ask about electrical fields, Marcus played with his lighter. "And if you are wrong and the Prime is unaffected?"
Biting off another piece of the rebar, the Decepticon answered while he chewed. "We die."
XxxX
Authors Note: Thank you, everyone, for reading; and the likes, faves, kudos, and comments; they mean the world to me.
FirstToKnow: Prowl is a survivor and brutal, using people like pawns in a game. He knows war and the suffering of war, but he knows how to use both to his advantage. Remember, he has admitted he almost chose to be a Decepticon.
LOL, I didn't know your mother's name; I was picking something that sounded spiritual and kind to call terror of a person. I still haven't decided how large of a part she will play in future chapters.
OP manipulates V by giving her room; it is faster and safer for him to let her make decisions independently than force her into them. Yes, OP does have some serious cleanup; he can't have both worlds, so he must choose to save one.