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 things I own in this work of complete fiction are 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 I wish I could.
XxxX
Full Velocity: Apocalypse Code
Chapter 14: High-Stakes Poker
XxxX
The moon hung high in the night sky, brilliantly illuminating the landscape below with a silvery touch. They slowly wound their way along the road. The convoy traveled next to a residential section; what had been nice houses and trimmed lawns turned into a desolate town mostly abandoned as nature rapidly began reclaiming what belonged to her.
As they passed the lifeless homes, the femme's mood became as dark as the sightless windows. How many people still lived in those houses? Did they hang onto hope, confident their lives would return to normal any day now? Or had they moved on, packing up necessities and setting out for areas better to supply their needs? When she led her team into the desert communities, Velocity learned most people assumed large cities would offer refuge. Large urban areas became wastelands of concrete, offering nothing to sustain human life. Stores ran out of food within days; clean water no longer flowed from the taps, and desperate people resorted to violence to survive. The Autobots had good reason to avoid cities; starving people make dangerous people. Rural life was not much better, but people accustomed to being more self-sufficient, raising their meat, and growing their vegetables had a better chance at survival. Unfortunately, those scarce resources would collapse beneath the weight of need if people inundated smaller communities.
"Nice houses," Susan commented as she stared out the window.
"Death traps," Velocity retorted, letting her thoughts have a voice.
The road twisted on, and the expensive subdivision disappeared. More turns as the road wove around the footprint of the mountain. Another empty checkpoint and a parking lot opened before her; only a handful of cars littered the area. Above them, the summit of Cheyenne Mountain, a jagged, black monolith, blocked half the night sky. Its wide slopes seemed to start at the far edge of the concrete.
Optimus pulled ahead of her, his trailer catching the moonlight and shining in the darkness. Annoyance at his previous inactions still needled her like a splinter beneath the skin. She did not fall behind him; instead, letting the convoy pass and took the last position.
Three semis slowly rolled across the parking lot, each choosing a place to drop their trailers and revert to their robotic forms. The clicks and scrapes of metal against metal filled the cool air, and starlight glittered off glass and armor.
Susan grabbed her gear and jumped out, letting Velocity shift to her more comfortable root mode. Stretching stiff hypercoils, the femme jerked her helm toward the rumble of an engine echoing off the granite looming over them.
Mechs and humans turned to face the newcomer, all hoping for a friend but drawing swords and weapons. A ghostly pale sports car slid sideways as it turned toward them. Velocity sheathed her sword and stiffened, preparing for what came next. The Shelby revved its engine as it neared, then it fell apart, and Wheeljack tumbled from the reassembled pieces. The mech rushed forward and slammed into Velocity; his arms crushed her to his chest, lifting her off the ground in an enthusiastic hug.
"You came," the scientist hollered with delight. He turned, the femme's dangling peds slinging erratically with the movement. "Hi ya, Prime."
"Greetings Wheeljack. Can you put my bondmate down?" Optimus requested, humor lightening his words.
Another crushing hug and her peds landed softly on the pavement. Wheeljack's helm panels lit the area as he talked. Why did those work but not their headlights - another mystery Velocity would never solve. "The trailers will be fine here. Follow me to the base, Prime; you and the big guys won't be able to leave the main tunnels unless you want to crawl. You and 'Sides will find the rest of the base a tight fit, and none of us are allowed on the lower levels," Practically vibrating with excitement, Wheeljack hooked an elbow into one of hers and dragged her towards the mountain.
A dark opening ruined the slope of the mountain, the black maw of a beast ready to swallow its prey whole. Concrete and metal reinforced the access point, becoming pale, blunt teeth in the moonlight. A blast door as thick as Optimus's thigh guarded the impenetrable base.
A nervous chuckle escaped the femme, "Speak, friend, and enter," she quoted.
Wheeljack whispered into her audio, "No Balrog, yet," he teased.
Staring at the mech, Velocity realized the universe abounded in mysteries, such as why Wheeljack would read Tolkien. Or why Wheeljack reads fiction at all. He seemed the type to throw instructions in the trash, claiming reading them takes too long.
XxxX
Velocity sat leaning against the stone wall; a content smile frolicked over her features, and a half-full cube of high-grade lingered at her fingertips. Of course, Sideswipe "snuck" some contraband into the trailers. Of course, Optimus denied knowledge and turned a blind optic to the revelry that followed. The femme had no idea where her mate wandered off to, and for now, she didn't care; her indignation subsided with him out of sight.
Airman Jackson slammed her cards on the ground and read them off, "Three jacks and two threes. Pay up Hound."
Cliffjumper snickered from where he lay on his back, one ped propped on a glowing orb. Velocity doubted he could have stood if he wanted to; several empty containers lay beside him. A rattling snore echoed down the corridor where Sideswipe collapsed after drinking capricious amounts of his "secret blend." Everyone left him alone to sleep it off; sober Sideswipe was bad enough, but an overcharged and conscious Sideswipe became a whole different level of obnoxious.
An exaggerated moan escaped Hound as he shoved his bolts and rocks into Jackson's ever-growing pile of winnings.
Content and a little buzzed, Velocity left her place at the wall, having long ago exhausted anything useful for betting, and rejoined the group. Stretched out on her abdomen, with feet kicking the air, she poked through the champion's loot. Packets of Raman noodles, pretty rocks, fake money, several pinecones, nuts, bolts, Velocity's pens and markers, three small plushies - all identical blue dogs, a fork, bullet casings, and sticks made most of the winnings.
Trying to take back her pens earned the femme a slap on the hand from the Airman. "Those are mine, fair and square," Jackson chided.
Holding her hands up in surrender, Velocity relinquished ownership. "What are you going to do with all this?" She liked the young Airman with dark skin and eyes who was weirdly more comfortable around Cybertronians than humans. Not that Velocity could relate.
"Use it to win again." Airman Jackson began scooping the mishmash of items into a bag.
"Does she do this often?" Velocity tipped her head to look at Hound, "Beat you out of your - treasures?"
Stretching, the tracker grinned. "Oh, about every other game. I'll get my stuff back. If you need me to, I can try to win back your pens, but it might cost you," he drawled and winked.
"Oooo," teased Patrick, stacking his empty beer cans. "I think Hound has a crush," his words sloppy, as Susan giggled.
"No," snapped both Velocity and Hound.
Relaxed from the libations, Velocity explained her relationships to people who didn't need to know. "Hound is just a friend. Cliffjumper is also a friend."
At the mention of his name, the drunk Cliffjumper offered a warbled "Woohoo" and shot his fist into the air. The victorious gesture didn't reach very far since he still lay on his back.
Velocity continued, a smile pulling on her features. "Wheeljack is like a crazy uncle with an explosive fetish. Sideswipe is - well, what he is depends on the day. Huffer and Longhaul, I don't know very well."
"And what about me? Did you tell the humans about our relationship?" Mirage spat the last word as he materialized out of the dark tunnel.
A sneer immediately replaced Velocity's grin. She had forgotten the mech was at NORAD, out of sight, out of mind. "Hello, Mirage," the femme choked the greeting and noticed all eyes and optics bouncing between her and the newcomer.
The haughty mech placed an empty energon container among the growing stacks. "So, tell your entourage about our relationship, or do you not want them to know about your less-than-civilized behaviors?"
"You need to leave," Hound stood, calmly moving between Velocity and the spy.
Mirage shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I am. I only came to deposit my container." Turning away, the mech slipped into the darkness and disappeared.
Velocity fumed; her hands curled into tight fists. The humans turned their attention to her, faces alight with curiosity. Her vocals would not work to form words; a rage-filled roar threatened to become the only sound she could utter.
"You should have taken his head when you had the chance," Cliffjumper sagely and drunkenly interjected, "A million or so years of pining for Optimus isn't going to go away overnight. Think about it: a noble mech lost to a young femme, sparked off-world, literally someone who wouldn't even hit the social strata of Cybertron. That has to grind his gears hard. And then to think that someone is a femme, no honorable mech would choose a femme. Traditionally and morally, the frame types are supposed to remain pure, but Optimus was never one to follow traditions, and he openly questioned the morals of the functionalist's teachings,"
"Cliffjumper," Hound snapped. "Shut. Up."
XxxX
The morning fog sat heavy and wet; it obscured the distance and muted colors into a pale monochrome, and only the shadowy figures of nearby pines darkened the nebulous air. Cycling deeply, Velocity inhaled the fragrances of her world, the petrichor of dirt, terpenes of evergreen trees, charred meat from meals prepared over a fire, and the ammonia-laced urine of mice nesting nearby. A purr slipped from her vocals as condensation collected on her armor until it formed droplets. Listening, she heard nothing. No human chatter, no animal called in the woods, and everything slept beneath the wispy blanket. For a fleeting second, she could believe that this world had been created for her and her alone as her systems hummed contentedly, still feeling the effects of last night's celebrations. Wrapping her arms around her knees, Velocity blinked, letting water drop from her optic shutters to her cheeks as synthetic tears chased away the ridiculously selfish idea. The truth was the other way around; she had been created for this world.
She sat near a grove of trees, away from the opening of NORAD. A solitary place shared with her thoughts, alone to enjoy her world, if only for a moment. Since learning of her ancestry, time spent just absorbing the pulse of the Earth, feeling the rhythm of its molten core, the musical notes of life surrounding her in color and scent, a physical symphony exalting creation. Her world created a religion only she worshiped, a deity only she knew existed—beliefs she could never share, for no one else could experience what she did. During times of silent reverence, remorse for not knowing her kind threatened to bleed into resentment. The things she could have learned, their knowledge adding to the depth of her experience and understanding.
The crunch of peds announced another, and the femme refused to look back. He had pulled at her along their bond all night, and she obstinately ignored him, finding companionship with good friends and good drinks.
The familiar electrical field hesitantly whispered along hers. "May I join you?" Optimus rumbled softly in the near dawn.
"You are the Prime; you do what you want." Her words came out sharper than she had intended, but she still meant them.
Her mate sat, but a small canyon of space separated them. "I heard what happened with Mirage."
"At least I didn't try to kill him," the words came flat and bland, the taste of humiliation still bitter. She picked at the rocks, partially buried in the dirt.
"I am sorry. I should have handled things differently."
The apology slowly turned her focus to the Autobot leader. Remaining silent, the femme blinked, giving the mech time to continue.
"I should have dealt with Mirage. After your last encounter, I assumed he would end this fracas." Optimus glanced in her direction, a frown darkening his features. "You are mad at me." A statement, not a question. Optimus rarely asked how she felt.
"No," she offered him the tiny lie before turning back to the thick clouds of fog roaming through the trees.
"But you are upset with me." Another statement.
Her silence answered him.
"I should have come to you after the Decepticons attacked us on the road."
Loosening a small boulder and rolling it around, the femme cycled a sigh through her vents. "Yeah," she whispered, "That hurt." She resumed pushing the stone with her finger, leaving her mate to decide what she meant.
His hand rested on hers, stopping her from tormenting the chunk of granite. "I was in a mood," a touch of humor laced his words, attempting to lighten the discussion.
Velocity refused to be mollified. "No shit. You shut down when I…." She could not admit she needed him but kept her hand tucked within his. She turned to him. "I am tired of us fighting. I am tired of you acting like a royal jackass and assuming you know what I want or how I am or…." Her words dropped off in the confusion of what she wanted to say to him. "Just ask me how I am once in a while."
"I am truly sorry. It has been a long time since I had to think of another - of how my actions affect the one closest to me. I am fallible; I make mistakes and stumble." Optimus brushed her face with the back of his fingers. "I do know how you feel, what emotions are pulsing through you. We are bondmates; your presence lingers at the back of my thoughts, a melody only I hear and accompanies me everywhere." His optics roved over her. "We will perfect our bond. Together, we will become stronger than the sum of our parts." His hand left hers and encircled her forearm. Effortlessly, the Prime dragged her into his embrace.
Maybe she was weak? Maybe she needed to belong somewhere - to someone? Maybe she was still a little drunk or hungover or high, but without a word, she acquiesced and curled into his embrace. They sat like this for a while, his arms holding her to him, a powerful barrier separating her from the world and everything she knew.
A chickadee called its name as the fog thinned, and the sun hung as a soft disk beyond the clouds.
"Please come to the meeting this morning," Optimus requested. "I know you want to go with Hound, but he is postponing the trip into Colorado Springs until after we speak with the general and his assembled council."
Velocity doubted Hound had any choice in postponing the trip into the city.
XxxX
Her buzz from the high grade the night before still danced through her lines; whatever Sideswipe did to his "special blend," it did not wear off quickly. She congratulated herself on not drinking too much, unlike poor Cliffjumper, who still lay in the corridor.
The meeting occurred in a long tunnel, and several chemically luminescent globes lit the area. Velocity sat next to Optimus, her back against the granite wall. A map of the United States covered a rolling whiteboard, and a folding table occupied part of the corridor, its surface littered with notepads and pens. Two men sat there, one in a Canadian uniform; Velocity wondered how he wound up in the mix. General Pierce paced or stood, holding onto the back of a folding chair, but he never sat.
"We have communications with the outside world, but it is limited and slow."
"So, is this meeting." Velocity wanted to retort.
General Pierce stood ramrod straight; his arms crossed over his chest—a lean man in his sixties with intelligent gray eyes and close-cropped white hair, a man who regularly visited the barber, even in the Apocalypse. A tiny derisive snort slipped from her vocals.
All heads swiveled toward her, and she waved them away. "Ignore me. I was reminded of something else."
"Will that something else benefit this discussion?" Pierce asked, his tone demanding an answer as the iridescent glow from Wheeljack's chemical orbs cut deep shadows across his face.
Velocity tipped her head to the side and blinked, trying to decide how to respond. Finally, she offered a simple "No" and shrugged her shoulders.
"I suggest you remain silent." The hardness of the man's words could chip the granite walls surrounding them.
Before she could respond to the chastisement, Optimus interrupted, "General Pierce, Velocity is a valued advisor; if she wishes to speak, she will be free to do so. The Autobots have witnessed mass suffering and deaths on two worlds brought about by the Decepticons. If my people find humor in a stray thought or an event, they are encouraged to do so, for humans are not the only species that loses hope." Tangible silence followed the Prime's words.
Velocity offered her mate a furtive glance, and he responded with a small smile that almost didn't exist. She tightly clamped her dental plates; no need to give into temptation and say something.
The General huffed, perhaps reminded he did not outrank a Prime or simply choosing the best diplomatic path. "The boys to the North have begun clearing the EMPs along the Canadian border…"
"Disruptors," corrected Wheeljack from his cross-legged seat next to Velocity. "An EMP works differently, mostly as a single pulse that knocks out…."
"Call it what you want," General Pierce interrupted, "The Canadians are assisting along their border, but they won't travel very far into American territory without a clear 'OK' from the government, which we can't locate." The man sitting at the table, wearing a red maple leaf on his shoulder, nodded in agreement.
Velocity did not look at Optimus; she leaned against the rock wall and shuttered her optics, waiting to hear how her mate would play his hand and hoped Wheeljack would remain silent.
"What about Mexico?" the Prime asked.
Opening her shutters, she looked at her mate; Optimus was not showing his cards at all and remained silent about Prowl searching for members of the government. Perhaps he wanted to keep that uncertainty to himself or did not trust the General or his people. Whatever the reason, Velocity realized Optimus chose to gather information, rather than share it.
Pierce clasped his hands behind his back and paced the width of the tunnel. "The Mexican Military is also trying to clear their border, but they are clashing with the cartels. Apparently, the Dead Zone makes drug running easy, and they are shipping huge quantities into the U.S., most likely to sell and or hide from the Mexican authorities."
Velocity stared at the General; she had never considered the influence of gangs or cartels. Right now, paper money was worthless to most people, so what would the dealers take as payment? And with everyone struggling to survive, who would use drugs? Almost anyone wanting to escape this for a few minutes whispered her thoughts. Realizing people benefited from the death and destruction created by the Null Zone stoked the fires of her anger. Curling her hands into fists, she kept her claws sheathed and remained still.
Optimus shot her a questioning look.
"All good," she replied, giving him a tight smile as everyone watched the exchange.
The Prime pulled the group back to the discussion. "We are to assume it will take Mexico longer to clear their border due to interference," a statement, not a question to agree upon. Optimus shifted, pulling a knee toward his chest and dangling a forearm off the bent joint.
"Yes," General Pierce reached over the table and poured a glass of water from the pitcher. He took a long drink before continuing. "Also, word from Canada is that foreign cargo ships cannot dock in American ports and have rerouted North and South. They contain supplies we need."
A nod of understanding from Optimus followed a sigh of his vents. "I would propose concentrating the efforts to clear out disruptors along established supply routes. Interstate Seventy bisects the nation from east to west. Correct?" He glanced at Velocity for confirmation.
She bobbed her head back and forth and pursed her lips, tracing the path in her mind. "Mostly. Seventy ends in Utah, but with a little navigation, we have a coast-to-coast path."
Optimus Leaned forward and delicately plucked a Sharpie off the table, then handed it to Velocity. "Trace Interstate Seventy east to west and Interstate thirty-five north to south." He gestured at the map that stood all but ignored.
It took the femme a full second to understand what he wanted. Scooting to the whiteboard, she did as instructed, then understood where Optimus headed with this. Continuing to work the map, Velocity traced several more interstates, glad she had paid some attention during the brainstorming sessions at Creech. "On the eastern side of Thirty-Five, Interstate Sixty-Five runs from coastal Alabama to Chicago. Then, the Great Lakes open a water route to the Northeast, but the locks might be difficult to navigate if we can't get them working. In the west, there is Interstate Fifteen from L. A. to Canada, but almost nothing in the Great Basin desert." Capping her marker, Velocity waited for further instructions.
Optimus turned his attention back to the General. "Ultra Magnus has suggested using the Interstate Twenty-Five corridor next to NORAD instead of Thirty-Five as the primary route from Canada to Mexico. I have reservations.
"General Pierce, the goal is to section off the nation using the interstate system as supply routes. We can evaluate the population density of the survivors, resources, infrastructure, and needs within those sections. By focusing on the greatest need, we can help the most people while strategically clearing disruptors to restore this country."
With his hands on hips, the General stared at the map; silence stretched through the corridor as the man contemplated the plan. "You are telling me you plan to triage American citizens? As you help one group, another suffers and dies," anger pulsed through his words. The men at the table muttered to each other.
Prime held up a hand to stall arguments. "I understand your frustration; choosing one life over another is nearly impossible, especially for your own people. Sadly, this is the nature of warfare, and you should understand that." Pain and sadness darkened his optics, and the temblor of his voice told of making similar decisions. "To save people, citizens, we must focus on clearing out one large section at a time. Once a large enough area is cleared, we can begin restoring power. If we find a way to deactivate all the disruptors at once, we will utilize it, but until that occurs, this is our only logical choice."
Silence chewed at the assembled group as they struggled within their thoughts.
Velocity remained still and quiet. Intentionally allowing some people to die so others could live sat like a crushing weight on her soul. How does one explain to people they do not receive help simply because of where they live? The merit and value of their lives will be based on what infrastructure exists nearby. The winners in the lottery of survival would most likely live in cities or large towns where finding disruptors is difficult. Her thoughts became words. "Do you know how hard it is to find a disruptor?" Her voice cut through the silence, cleaving it like a butcher's knife.
All eyes and optics turned toward her, and she immediately regretted speaking out, but the point had to be made. "Um - shit."
The General's gray eyebrows shot up, almost reaching his hairline.
"Go on," Optimus encouraged, his words soothing.
Velocity stammered but gained her confidence with each syllable uttered, "I led a team. We focused on contacting smaller towns around the southern end of Nevada. We counted the living and cataloged the dead, adding both to a database on the Parhelion. If they wished, we arranged to move them to Indian Springs, but we opened supply lines. In several instances, the people had already secured and traded with neighboring towns or communities.
"The entire time, we attempted to locate and destroy disruptors. They are not easy to find. You are severely mistaken if you think Soundwave was helpful and stuck a flag on them to announce their location. He fucking hid them, in the ground, in forests, in water towers, beneath buildings, places they would go unnoticed and overlooked."
The General flared his nostrils and crossed his arms over his chest.
Continuing, Velocity ignored the man, looking at the floor as memories of the dead and helpless flooded her thoughts. "Finding disruptors in the open desert was difficult; finding them in cities is nearly impossible." She raised her helm to address the General. "I am assuming that when we identify areas of the greatest need, they will be cities, and we will have to clear the area before much else can happen. This will be hard and involve long hours and possibly demolishing buildings to get to them. I am saying that if we," she waved an arm to encompass Optimus and Wheeljack, "Wanted to take the easy route, we would be in Montana, clearing some millionaire's ranch, or stayed in Nevada, expanding our area. We are here at NORAD, the communications hub of North America, to try and help. We are talking to you personally to get you on board and relay information about our plan to everyone you can. So, either help us or get out of our way."
A hand clamped on Velocity's shoulder, and she knew she needed to stop talking. She glanced at Optimus, and no apologies softened her optics; she meant what she said.
"Ma'am, you are impertinent, but I understand what you are saying. How long will it take to open a corridor?" The General leaned against the folding table, and its feet squeaked on the rocky floor.
"That is an undetermined amount of time. First, we must clear a large enough area to restart NORAD safely. We have brought equipment for power conversion and scaled-down communication equipment to allow humans to contact the Parhelion without Autobot assistance. I have teams heading into Canada and Mexico with similar equipment to establish communications. Unfortunately, the Parhelion will have to relay all communications as we have learned the Null Zone disrupts radio waves," Optimus informed.
"Is this why you don't want to open the Interstate twenty-five corridor?" the General's gray eyes hardened with understanding.
The Prime nodded. "I fear our enemies would easily attack the only functional communication array."
Pierce nodded his understanding. "The Canadians did say that several nations hostile to America have considered moving against us, but they cannot deploy aircraft into the Null zone and are afraid any rockets will fall out of the sky as soon as they reach our border. Also, a massive alien warship with unknown capabilities hanging over the country has a particularly deterring effect. So, I guess, thank you for that."
A smile graced the Prime's features. "I make my decisions carefully and only wish to assist. If I did not think the Parhelion was necessary, I would send it into orbit further in the solar system."
XxxX
Authors Notes:
The benefit of writing this fic is that I am learning the national highway system in deep detail.