[Fic]: The Night Before
Title: The Night Before
Fandom: Transformers Prime
Characters: Leandra Jackson (OC), Soundwave, Assorted MECH Goons
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Leandra's quiet evening is ruined when MECH arrives on the scene with a prisoner.
Warning: Implied heavy violence
Truck engines jerked Leandra from her nap.
Who the hell was coming in? The base -- or whatever it had been, Leandra wasn't entirely sure -- had been abandoned for years.
Swiftly she closed her laptop and shoved it in her bag. Darting up the stairs, she ducked into a shadowy corner on the catwalk. Friend or foe, she didn't want to find out the hard way.
They weren't local trucks, whoever they were -- the engines were too powerful. Not quite right for the military, either, but close. A touch stronger than military-grade, and definitely deeper.
She frowned. Who were they?
Agh, why were the only windows skylights?
The engines idled, but didn't shut off -- shitshitshit, they were coming into the hangar!
She drew back even further into shadow as the great metal door shuddered into motion, rolling up like a garage door. A flatbed truck backed in almost silently, and Leandra stared at the overlarge humanoid form strapped down to it.
Was that a robot?
A black triangle-of-sorts where a face would be flickered briefly on, then off.
Leandra's eyes went wide. It was-- alive? Active? Feigning unconsciousness?
What the hell was it?
And what were these guys doing to it?
The idling engines turned off, as did the flatbed itself. Men piled into the hangar, and then the door rolled shut.
Shit.
"Well," someone said, "this was certainly a lucky break."
Leandra's eyes flew wide.
That voice. That voice that voice thatvoicethatvoicethatvoicenonononono--
She shook herself. If she panicked now, she'd die. She knew that as surely as she knew that she hated whatever group harboured that man.
"Are you sure about this, doctor?" one of the other men asked. Leandra marked his voice well, in case she heard him again. "We received no orders--"
"Silas will surely appreciate another captive Transformer, especially after losing his first," that man said coldly. "After we have this one in pieces, anyway. I'd like to see it run then."
A few of the men shifted nervously, and Leandra tried not to retch. A single sound would spell her death, especially if that man recognised her.
"What if it wakes up?" another man asked.
"It won't. But pump another EMP blast into it, if you like."
"I would if we had smaller EMP weapons," someone else muttered.
That man selected a tool that looked like a long rod and jammed it against the metal behemoth. Sparks flew, but the robot didn't so much as twitch.
"There," he said in satisfaction. "If it were active, it would have reacted to a shock of that magnitude. I perfected this on Breakdown, after all."
Leandra's eyes narrowed. So the metal robot was a person. Presumably with a name, since that man had named another one.
Well.
If he wanted to torture the robot, she would just have to find a way to thwart him.
But what kind of distraction could she cause that wouln't get her killed?
A slow smile crossed her face, and she dug into her bag for the remote activator she'd put together over the last three months. She thumbed it on and keyed in the sequence that would trigger the alarms.
With her other hand, she slipped in her ear plugs.
Sirens screamed, almost loud enough to cause pain. To a man, the intruders covered their ears, all turning towards the closed door.
That man shouted orders, trying to be heard over the din, but he didn't bother to enunciate so they got lost. One man had the presence of mind to open the door again, so the noise wouldn't bounce around the mostly-empty hangar and echo to perdition.
Most of them ran outside, presumably so that man could deliver his orders again.
One man, however, darted up to the catwalk, gun at the ready.
Fuck.
Leandra scrunched up as tight as she could in her corner. If he had a flashlight...
He hesitated, then turned away from her, facing the stairs in a clear guard posture. Damn it.
There was no help for it. As slowly as she could, she stood up and crept towards him. She made no sound -- at least, not one that could be heard over the still-screaming sirens -- but something must have alerted him anyway, because he whirled.
For a brief instant Leandra faced his gun, but his finger wasn't on the trigger. She shoved the barrel into his gut as she ducked down and swept his feet out from underneath him. He screamed as he tumbled backwards down the stairs.
She didn't let herself stop to think about if she'd killed him or not. She ran down the stairs herself, vaulting over the rail when she was six feet to the ground, and pelted for the restrained robot.
Clambering up onto the flatbed, she was just about to duck behind one of its arms when the alarms suddenly cut off. She pressed herself flat against the truck, behind the almost wing-like arm, and took out her ear plugs.
A sudden, high-pitched noise made her slam her hands over her ears, but it was no help against the soft sound that seemed to sear her very brain.
The hangar door slammed down, and the noise cut off.
Hesitantly, Leandra removed her hands, and relaxed when it didn't come back. Turning around, she jumped -- her own face reflected back at her through the robot's faceplate. Then soundwaves jerked across it, and Leandra heard the distinct tones of a number pad.
When she hesitated, the tones played again, almost insistantly, and Leandra understood. The arm she was hiding behind was locked down with metal, and a number pad.
She pressed each number in turn to fix the proper sounds in her mind, then turned to the robot. "Once more, please?" she whispered.
The sequence repeated, and Leandra faithfully reproduced it on the pad.
The metal restraint opened, and the arm lifted up, spiderlike fingers flexing. The robot reached across its body, tapping out the release sequence on the other arm far faster than Leandra could have, then sitting up and undoing the retraints on its legs.
Then it looked at her.
Leandra flinched as it reached for her, but it only drew its fingers across her face, then her hair. Under normal circumstances she would have slapped anyone who touched her hair, but she was frozen in fear.
The hangar door opened.
The wing-wide arm dropped in front of her just as the men on the other side opened fire. Leandra shrieked and covered her sensitive ears again. Between the barely-adequate muffler and the guns, she didn't hear metal slide against metal.
She did hear yells, a number of slams, and the abrupt end of the bulletfire, however.
The wing-arm moved, and she saw a long metal tentacle retract into the robot. A waveform crossed the faceplate, and a man's voice said, "MECH," as a spindly finger pointed to the pile of men.
Leandra nodded. That would be a good start for research, since they were clearly human and not other robots.
But what of that man?
Two of the MECH... soldiers, she supposed... had managed to struggle to their feet.
The robot tilted its head to regard them with that blank faceplate, and another waveform buzzed across its face. A different man's voice said, "You are beginning to damage my calm."
So it didn't talk, or couldn't talk, and instead communicated by replay? Interesting. Were all Transformers that way?
Instead of running, like a sane person ought, like Leandra wanted desperately to, the two men opened fire a second time.
The noises that followed after the wing-arm swung down again made Leandra vomit.
Those spiderlike fingers closed gently around her, and she was lifted up, up, up, and deposited back down onto the catwalk. That done, the robot suddenly transformed into a UAV and roared out of the hangar.
Silence was the wrong term for what followed -- there was plenty of sound outside -- but it was close enough.
Leandra swallowed convulsively and carefully made her way down the catwalk stairs again. If the robot meant to protect her, it probably didn't realise she would need to leave the area, and before those MECH guys regrouped.
Trying not to look at the pile of gore that remained of the men in the hangar, Leandra completely missed the device on the floor until she stubbed her toe on it. Biting back a curse, she looked down, and wondered how, exactly, she'd managed to miss the bright yellow thing.
There was a green light, indicating that it was on.
Leandra picked it up, turning it over in her hands until she found the switch. A flick of her thumb powered it down, and she tucked it into her bag for later perusal.
Peeking outside revealed fires where the other vehicles would have been, and two bodies. She clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting back more nausea, and raced for the chain-link fence nearby.
The barbed wire would be a problem, but she would deal with that when she got to the top.
Unfortunately, the remaining MECH soldiers turned out to be a problem at the same time.
"Freeze!" someone ordered just as she began to haul herself over the top.
Leandra obeyed immediately. She already knew MECH were armed.
Again the robot saved her, screaming past her so close that the wake behind it slammed her against the fence. Barbed wire tore into her left hand, but her shirt cushioned her stomach somewhat.
Then the spindly fingers closed around her again.
This time, the robot placed her on top of a sattelite tower. "Stay there," it replayed, and turned to go.
"Wait!"
The robot paused.
"What's your name?" Leandra asked.
After a moment, it turned to face her, and emitted a series of replayed noise -- static, snatches of conversation, three beeps. As it did, waveforms crossed its faceplate.
"Soundwave?" she guessed after a moment's thought.
He nodded, then pointed to where a set of tire-tracks led to a hole in the fence on the opposite end of the base, and away from it. So some of MECH's soldiers had escaped.
Pity.
She hoped that man wasn't one of them.
The robot -- Soundwave -- looked around, possibly for survivors, then transformed again and screamed off into the night sky.
Leandra fell to her hands and knees and threw up until her stomach cramped and her throat burned.
Groaning, she dragged herself to the opposite side of the platform and fell into an exhausted sleep.
This entry was originally posted at http://dark-puck.dreamwidth.org/461415.html. Leave your comments here or there, as you wish.
Fandom: Transformers Prime
Characters: Leandra Jackson (OC), Soundwave, Assorted MECH Goons
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Leandra's quiet evening is ruined when MECH arrives on the scene with a prisoner.
Warning: Implied heavy violence
Truck engines jerked Leandra from her nap.
Who the hell was coming in? The base -- or whatever it had been, Leandra wasn't entirely sure -- had been abandoned for years.
Swiftly she closed her laptop and shoved it in her bag. Darting up the stairs, she ducked into a shadowy corner on the catwalk. Friend or foe, she didn't want to find out the hard way.
They weren't local trucks, whoever they were -- the engines were too powerful. Not quite right for the military, either, but close. A touch stronger than military-grade, and definitely deeper.
She frowned. Who were they?
Agh, why were the only windows skylights?
The engines idled, but didn't shut off -- shitshitshit, they were coming into the hangar!
She drew back even further into shadow as the great metal door shuddered into motion, rolling up like a garage door. A flatbed truck backed in almost silently, and Leandra stared at the overlarge humanoid form strapped down to it.
Was that a robot?
A black triangle-of-sorts where a face would be flickered briefly on, then off.
Leandra's eyes went wide. It was-- alive? Active? Feigning unconsciousness?
What the hell was it?
And what were these guys doing to it?
The idling engines turned off, as did the flatbed itself. Men piled into the hangar, and then the door rolled shut.
Shit.
"Well," someone said, "this was certainly a lucky break."
Leandra's eyes flew wide.
That voice. That voice that voice thatvoicethatvoicethatvoicenonononono--
She shook herself. If she panicked now, she'd die. She knew that as surely as she knew that she hated whatever group harboured that man.
"Are you sure about this, doctor?" one of the other men asked. Leandra marked his voice well, in case she heard him again. "We received no orders--"
"Silas will surely appreciate another captive Transformer, especially after losing his first," that man said coldly. "After we have this one in pieces, anyway. I'd like to see it run then."
A few of the men shifted nervously, and Leandra tried not to retch. A single sound would spell her death, especially if that man recognised her.
"What if it wakes up?" another man asked.
"It won't. But pump another EMP blast into it, if you like."
"I would if we had smaller EMP weapons," someone else muttered.
That man selected a tool that looked like a long rod and jammed it against the metal behemoth. Sparks flew, but the robot didn't so much as twitch.
"There," he said in satisfaction. "If it were active, it would have reacted to a shock of that magnitude. I perfected this on Breakdown, after all."
Leandra's eyes narrowed. So the metal robot was a person. Presumably with a name, since that man had named another one.
Well.
If he wanted to torture the robot, she would just have to find a way to thwart him.
But what kind of distraction could she cause that wouln't get her killed?
A slow smile crossed her face, and she dug into her bag for the remote activator she'd put together over the last three months. She thumbed it on and keyed in the sequence that would trigger the alarms.
With her other hand, she slipped in her ear plugs.
Sirens screamed, almost loud enough to cause pain. To a man, the intruders covered their ears, all turning towards the closed door.
That man shouted orders, trying to be heard over the din, but he didn't bother to enunciate so they got lost. One man had the presence of mind to open the door again, so the noise wouldn't bounce around the mostly-empty hangar and echo to perdition.
Most of them ran outside, presumably so that man could deliver his orders again.
One man, however, darted up to the catwalk, gun at the ready.
Fuck.
Leandra scrunched up as tight as she could in her corner. If he had a flashlight...
He hesitated, then turned away from her, facing the stairs in a clear guard posture. Damn it.
There was no help for it. As slowly as she could, she stood up and crept towards him. She made no sound -- at least, not one that could be heard over the still-screaming sirens -- but something must have alerted him anyway, because he whirled.
For a brief instant Leandra faced his gun, but his finger wasn't on the trigger. She shoved the barrel into his gut as she ducked down and swept his feet out from underneath him. He screamed as he tumbled backwards down the stairs.
She didn't let herself stop to think about if she'd killed him or not. She ran down the stairs herself, vaulting over the rail when she was six feet to the ground, and pelted for the restrained robot.
Clambering up onto the flatbed, she was just about to duck behind one of its arms when the alarms suddenly cut off. She pressed herself flat against the truck, behind the almost wing-like arm, and took out her ear plugs.
A sudden, high-pitched noise made her slam her hands over her ears, but it was no help against the soft sound that seemed to sear her very brain.
The hangar door slammed down, and the noise cut off.
Hesitantly, Leandra removed her hands, and relaxed when it didn't come back. Turning around, she jumped -- her own face reflected back at her through the robot's faceplate. Then soundwaves jerked across it, and Leandra heard the distinct tones of a number pad.
When she hesitated, the tones played again, almost insistantly, and Leandra understood. The arm she was hiding behind was locked down with metal, and a number pad.
She pressed each number in turn to fix the proper sounds in her mind, then turned to the robot. "Once more, please?" she whispered.
The sequence repeated, and Leandra faithfully reproduced it on the pad.
The metal restraint opened, and the arm lifted up, spiderlike fingers flexing. The robot reached across its body, tapping out the release sequence on the other arm far faster than Leandra could have, then sitting up and undoing the retraints on its legs.
Then it looked at her.
Leandra flinched as it reached for her, but it only drew its fingers across her face, then her hair. Under normal circumstances she would have slapped anyone who touched her hair, but she was frozen in fear.
The hangar door opened.
The wing-wide arm dropped in front of her just as the men on the other side opened fire. Leandra shrieked and covered her sensitive ears again. Between the barely-adequate muffler and the guns, she didn't hear metal slide against metal.
She did hear yells, a number of slams, and the abrupt end of the bulletfire, however.
The wing-arm moved, and she saw a long metal tentacle retract into the robot. A waveform crossed the faceplate, and a man's voice said, "MECH," as a spindly finger pointed to the pile of men.
Leandra nodded. That would be a good start for research, since they were clearly human and not other robots.
But what of that man?
Two of the MECH... soldiers, she supposed... had managed to struggle to their feet.
The robot tilted its head to regard them with that blank faceplate, and another waveform buzzed across its face. A different man's voice said, "You are beginning to damage my calm."
So it didn't talk, or couldn't talk, and instead communicated by replay? Interesting. Were all Transformers that way?
Instead of running, like a sane person ought, like Leandra wanted desperately to, the two men opened fire a second time.
The noises that followed after the wing-arm swung down again made Leandra vomit.
Those spiderlike fingers closed gently around her, and she was lifted up, up, up, and deposited back down onto the catwalk. That done, the robot suddenly transformed into a UAV and roared out of the hangar.
Silence was the wrong term for what followed -- there was plenty of sound outside -- but it was close enough.
Leandra swallowed convulsively and carefully made her way down the catwalk stairs again. If the robot meant to protect her, it probably didn't realise she would need to leave the area, and before those MECH guys regrouped.
Trying not to look at the pile of gore that remained of the men in the hangar, Leandra completely missed the device on the floor until she stubbed her toe on it. Biting back a curse, she looked down, and wondered how, exactly, she'd managed to miss the bright yellow thing.
There was a green light, indicating that it was on.
Leandra picked it up, turning it over in her hands until she found the switch. A flick of her thumb powered it down, and she tucked it into her bag for later perusal.
Peeking outside revealed fires where the other vehicles would have been, and two bodies. She clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting back more nausea, and raced for the chain-link fence nearby.
The barbed wire would be a problem, but she would deal with that when she got to the top.
Unfortunately, the remaining MECH soldiers turned out to be a problem at the same time.
"Freeze!" someone ordered just as she began to haul herself over the top.
Leandra obeyed immediately. She already knew MECH were armed.
Again the robot saved her, screaming past her so close that the wake behind it slammed her against the fence. Barbed wire tore into her left hand, but her shirt cushioned her stomach somewhat.
Then the spindly fingers closed around her again.
This time, the robot placed her on top of a sattelite tower. "Stay there," it replayed, and turned to go.
"Wait!"
The robot paused.
"What's your name?" Leandra asked.
After a moment, it turned to face her, and emitted a series of replayed noise -- static, snatches of conversation, three beeps. As it did, waveforms crossed its faceplate.
"Soundwave?" she guessed after a moment's thought.
He nodded, then pointed to where a set of tire-tracks led to a hole in the fence on the opposite end of the base, and away from it. So some of MECH's soldiers had escaped.
Pity.
She hoped that man wasn't one of them.
The robot -- Soundwave -- looked around, possibly for survivors, then transformed again and screamed off into the night sky.
Leandra fell to her hands and knees and threw up until her stomach cramped and her throat burned.
Groaning, she dragged herself to the opposite side of the platform and fell into an exhausted sleep.
This entry was originally posted at http://dark-puck.dreamwidth.org/461415.html. Leave your comments here or there, as you wish.