Title: Sunset
Continuity: Movieverse AU
Rating: PG-13
Content advice: mention of human undead, post-apocalyptic setting
Characters and/or pairings: Miles, Megatron, Starscream, mention of Judy and Mason
Summary: The Decepticons have won, Earth no longer belongs to humankind. In the ruins of his homeland, Miles has learnt how to survive.
Wordcount: c. 700
Notes: Written to a prompt from
Femme4jack during
this commentfic party - Miles and Megatron, post-apocalyptic sunset.
This is set in the same AU as
A Boy and his Dog.
I’m thinking of writing this AU as a far longer piece, perhaps for NaNoWriMo. *ponders*
Supply runs were best done alone and in daylight.
It wasn’t that Judy was slow, but she was slower than him. And Mason could get a bit excitable. Miles had seen ‘I am Legend’; he knew how that went for dogs at times like these.
He hefted his backpack, sweating already under the weight of canned food and the few fresh-ish apples he could dig out of the seven-eleven. He scraped damp hair back from his face, and gave himself a moment to pause.
Look around, use the light. Metal gleamed in the low sun. Car wrecks, chunks of girder from where the bridge had been torn up, the corpse of an Autobot. Inert, all of it. But he stayed still a while longer, just to be sure.
The Decepticons could see him no matter the light. But with the day’s heat radiating from sidewalks and the ruins of buildings, and with the golden glow of the sun ready to glint from anything metal that moved, he had a better chance now at getting back safely than at any other time.
He caught a whine of jet engines over to the south, saw the glimmer of silver like summer lightning in the clouds. Miles hunched, digging his knees into the warm dirt, his hands on the stub of a wall. His grip tightened, knuckles white as his pulse thudded in his ears.
The Decepticon tore a loop through the sky, transformed, and landed in its robot form with a sinister grace that sent a shiver along Miles’ spine. It was large, big enough that distance couldn’t hide the patches of rust that ate into its shine, the scorch marks and twisted metal that marred its chest.
With a shiver, he realised who it was.
Megatron.
The robot roared, and Miles winced. So loud, like a thousand speakers all screaming static into his ears at once. He pressed his lips together, tried to slow his breathing. Mustn’t move, mustn’t make a sound.
After a minute or so, another robot showed up. This one was shorter, wide as he was tall. Another flier, bronzed by the dying sun. Megatron swiped at the newcomer, who dodged and cowered, then began chattering in the robots’ own language.
Miles didn’t understand a word of it.
The sweat dried on his skin, and the breeze picked up. He suppressed a shudder, gooseflesh crawling over his arms and legs, his t-shirt clammy between the rucksack and his back. He needed to pee. He also needed to run, get back to Mason and Judy, get underground where it was safest.
Then Megatron laughed, and the sound was so hauntingly familiar that Miles almost made a break for it there and then. It went on for far too long, the smaller robot bowing and scraping, the shadows drawing in.
The sun dipped to kiss the horizon, and the smaller robot shot up into the sky. Megatron huffed, and watched it leave.
Miles wished that Megatron would also leave. The darker it got, the bigger the chance he’d run into some other kind of trouble on his way back to Judy and Mason. The virus the Decepticons had unleashed on humanity was still active, still worming its way through a few unfortunate souls. Miles could outrun them, but he didn’t like to see them, let alone get up close. He didn’t want to be a witness to that pallid flesh, those blank stares and grasping hands.
He didn’t want to have to kill one just so that he could survive.
The sun set, the landscape awash with one final blaze of golden fire, and Megatron burned with it, his armour glowing the same fierce red as his eyes. Then he too was gone, another flash of summer lightning, splitting the clouds.
Miles waited a futher hundred heartbeats, moving his lips along with the count in his mind. When it was done, he stood, slowly, and stretched, easing away the tension and the chill. He’d been gone too long; Judy would worry. Mason would pine.
Miles tightened the straps on his pack, took his knife in his hand, and slunk off into the gloom.