War's Over - Chapter 01

[swindleslog]

Title: War's Over
Characters: Hot Rod, Arcee, Springer, Kup, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, misc. nameless others. More to come.
Description: The war is over, with the neutrals siding with Shockwave and the Decepticons to take back and rebuild Cybertron, but what does that mean for the autobots?

Notes: I wanted to write something like this for a while- lots of talented people have explored what would happen if the cons won, but you don't see much of 'well, what if the neutrals got sick of not being able to live on their own damn planet, and took it back?' Because really, what then? I wanted a dystopia that wasn't. The Autobots have not won, but while the end of war can often be a very, very bad thing for the losting party, I wanted to try a version where very bad didn't mean living hell, and where forced servitude and loss of freedom and self regulation didn't mean constant abuse. I've written bits of this before, and this will not likely ever be a whole story, or one that ends. It's just something I want to play with, as I am making an effort to write more fic.

Something else I wanted to explore is a thing I've seen mentioned in IDWs comic verse and other areas- being built for a specific task, and the life expectations that go along with it. How does your form affect your behaviour, your coding? How does it place you in society? How much of you is what you were made to be, and how much of it is your own choice?

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it! I'll hopefully be updating more frequently with parts of this and other things I've had floating around. :)



They weren't cons, whoever they were. Or at least not cons Hot Rod had ever seen. More importantly, they weren't cons that Springer and Arcee had seen, and they'd know better than he would. They'd been around longer.

Kup seemed to have a better idea, face scrunched up in thought, cygar in his teeth. Usually when he was working something out, he'd roll it from corner to corner of his mouth, working at it and chewing gently. He wasn't doing that today, he just had it clenched.

"Kup?"

"Gimme a minute, lad."

Whoever it was had chased them here. Three cruisers to their one. They'd already lost the twins a while back, and now it was just them and the enemy. He hoped they were alright. Maybe they'd be kept for barter or something. He hoped they'd be kept for barter. Though what would happen when negotiations came up, Hot Rod didn't know. They had nothing, short on supplies, weapons, and fuel.

Kup sat a little straighter.

"No... couldn't be."

Bulk shifting behind them, and Springer leaned in. "Couldn't be what?"

"I haven't seen any of them since- hell, since scrap got bad. They left."

"Who left Kup?" Arcee had never been one for patience when circumstances were pressing.

"You kids recognize any of the forms we've seen so far? Any recognizable kibble, shapes, anything on these guys that'd tell you what their alt is? Where they're from maybe?"

"We were kind of hoping you did Kup, which is why we're all waiting."

"Just look at that one. Haven't seen alt kibble like that since Trableron. Definitely from Trableron. And that guy- looks like he's incorporating back to his roots, but where he's been's still pretty obvious."

"Kup, don't start a story, please."

"Some credit, my dear girl. You kids look at what you can make out of those mechs. Recognize anything? Got any guesses for me on alts?"

Hot Rod didn't have many, but Arcee and Springer had a few, after a bit of thought. Wing kibble reminding them of some stone planet. Springer thought the proportions of another guy reminded him of a planet with heavy mining industry. Arcee commented on another looking like a bipedal version of a threshing device she'd seen once.

"And where did you see all that? Do you remember when?" No one spoke for a minute, so Kup filled in. "Before the war. You may have seen some of them if you stopped for supplies in the earlier battles, but Cybertronians have not been welcome there for a long, long time. But it looks like that welcome mat didn't pull away for all of us."

"Kup," Springer was quiet, unusual for him in a tense moment. "What do you mean 'all of us'?"

"We're surrounded by neutrals."

"Scrap oil, old timer. What would neutrals want with us? They made their position pretty clear when they left us to defend their damn planet."

"I don't know, lad. I don't know. Maybe the war's turned into a three-way. That's certainly what it looks like."

Hot Rod shrugged. "Not including what's happening right now, does this really make a difference? They're all still enemies then, right? Still us against the world."

"You're right and you're wrong, lad. You're right and wrong. It's not that simple. Neutrals didn't like any of us, or any of the faction business, but they never did us any harm before. And while we could have used their help, and them picking sides would have made for a much shorter war, they went so far as to leave their own homes to get away from the fighting. They aren't into it, they didn't want it, they ran. Maybe that's why they got amnesty on other planets we'd get shot down for just looking at from orbit. I don't know why they'd be after us now. But they haven't hurt us yet."

Arcee kept two silhouettes who seemed to be exchanging posts in her sights. "If they don't mean us harm, why are we surrounded?"

"Haven't got to that one yet."

They spent hours like that, studying this new possible enemy, Wondering what to do, what the plan was, for themselves, or for the bots they faced. Hot Rod hadn't had to do much of this. He'd fought, he'd been flattened down in hiding before, he'd even had to run while darting and keeping hidden. But nothing so still and pointless like this.

It was eating him alive. He needed to do, he needed something outside this waiting!

Kup perked up, and the others did with him.

"Got a hail."

"What do they want?" Springer asked, but kept his eyes across the grotto, watching and wary.

"Well, not to hurt us, for a start. Whatever the outcome. That's a promise, so I hear."

Scoffing from Arcee's side. "So they say."

"I don't trust that. They would've said something before now. This is stupid. We need to move." Hot Rod fingered his gun. He hadn't put it down since they'd run into here, this makeshift shelter. Little better than a foxhole.

"I agree with the kid for once."

"I- oh, hey, thanks Springer. That's different."

"Well, you have a point. What else have they got to say Kup?"

The cygar rotated from one side to the other. "Surrender. They think the war is over. They've inviting us back to Cybertron."

Arcee laughed out loud and stared. "Are they serious?"

"Seem to think so. They say if we surrender, they'll take us back to Cybertron. They're inviting us to help rebuild. Say they all just wanted to go home, and they've got agreements up with Shockwave. That we'll not be hurt, whether we come quietly or no."

"I trust nothing to do with Shockwave."

"Not like anyone does, really, Arcee. I know no Wrecker who would. And besides that- no way one eyed purple people eater would agree to a truce if his precious Megatron doesn't. And we all know he won't."

Hot Rod wasn't watching Arcee or Springer any more. He was watching Kup. And Kup's face was hard.

"Apparently, Megatron is dead."

"What!"

"That's a load of-!"

"And Optimus has gone missing."

Taking a step back, Hot Rod shook his head. "No. Nuh-uh. The first one sounds completely false, but Optimus? No. He's there somewhere, they just don't know where. I don't trust these people, they're not even good at making stuff up. I don't like this."

No response from Kup to that. Just the grinding of the cygar against his dental plate.

"Kup? It's a load of scrap, right? Kup?"

"They got footage for us. A vidscreen with some of their newly elected if we want. They're waiting for a response."

Charging of ammunition mechanisms as they calibrated to fire. "And our response?" Arcee liked to make herself clear through her actions.

"We get out of here. I don't trust this, but lies this big- we need to investigate. When's the last time you three heard from the big OP?"

Silence.

"Or anyone close to him? Anyone you know to be around him always."

"Not since we left Earth." Hot Rod hated silence. And there'd been way too much of that today already.

Counting off in his head, Springer nodded. "Yeah, when we picked up Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. So-"

"At least nine weeks."

No one wanted to speak. That wasn't their usual. Even without direct contact, you could at least expect to hear from someone who had heard from someone to pass it along.

And they hadn't. Hadn't in a long while.

"Let's get out of here and regrou-"

Springer went very still, then sunk to his knees before hitting the ground.

"Springer!" Arcee targeted and wove in a circle, keeping tight to shelter, searching out attackers. "Springer!"

A shove to his back, and Hot Rod was sent moving. "You two! Roll out! Roll out right now, get out of here! I'll stay with Springer, but you two need to move!"

"I'm not leaving him, and I'm not leaving you!"

"I will not argue this! You get the hell out before you can't! You know damn well why, now go!"

Spitting curses, Arcee grabbed Hot Rod by the arm. "Come on, roll out! Move!"

"But we can't!-"

"MOVE!"

A blur of gears and shifting parts, and they were gone, shooting over the landscape and dodging fire. They could hear Kup firing behind them.

But that didn't last long.

*We couldn't get out of there and carry Springer.*

*You don't need to-.*

*Someone had to escape, or no one-*

*Or no one could help later. I know. *

Hot Rod hit a corner and swerved. It didn't take him long to notice his engine ran alone.

*Arcee? Arcee? Oh frag.* Rolling out of his alt and into the window of an old basement, the ruin of one of the few buildings standing, Hot Rod booked it to the opposite side of the room, up onto the street, and through to a smaller neighbour. It'd been some kind of storage area, so he headed to its centre where a bunch of crates and containers had been stacked. Something had been left there long ago and tinted the air with must and decay, but he didn't have time to worry about that. Hunkering down in their midst, he pulled as much of himself as he could into one of the open ones, covering what he couldn't hide and hoping he hadn't stirred up too much dust. It wouldn't take them long to figure out he wasn't on the road.

He tried to contact Arcee again. Nothing. Not even static. He hoped she was just unconscious, or had ducked somewhere that blocked all communication lines. He hoped it wasn't because someone had tampered with her, or ripped something out.

No.

Don't think about that. They'd knocked Springer, who probably looked like the biggest threat, out. They had not shot him.

That he could see.

No.

Don't think about that. He'd been alone before. And they'd found each other. They'd gotten out okay.

But that was with enemies he'd known, people he'd seen. These people were new. He'd never been to the places they'd been, didn't know what they were capable of, what their alts could do, let alone their weapons or tactics.

Noise, back the way he'd come. They'd caught up and were going through the first building. Hot Rod couldn't hear what they were saying, but he was glad he hadn't stayed there. They'd comb it over for sure. He wanted to run again, that was something he was good at, and was built for. Not in terms of being cowardly, just in terms of being fast, agile, and tricky. Hot Rod wasn't a slouch, but he, like Arcee, like Jazz, like Mirage and many others, was not built to take too many punches, or dish out any heavy artilery. He knew how to hit, and where, but you needed opportunity. If you got mobbed, you had nothing. Kup and Springer could melee when overwhelmed, but that wasn't for his frame type.

He'd tried a few times, actually. Gotten his aft beaten, and when he was hauled out and recuperating in the medbay, had his head bitten off for it. He'd always wanted to do things his own way, but after three painful lessons he'd learned that some sporty looking types were brawlers- some sporty types.

The rest of them had to go a different route and use a little more dodge and evade.

And damn, did he want to evade and run now. Run, get a better vantage, see what was going on. Find a place to attack, get a plan.

But he had to wait. He could hear them, they were still bumping around, looking for him. Could he run?

Maybe he should run again. While they were distracted. Was that a good plan? Sure. That was a good plan.

No. No, that was rushing into things. He was the last one today. He couldn't risk those stunts, no show boating today. Someone had to save his friends, and today, that was him.

Just him.

Don't move, don't move, don't move. After sitting and waiting and watching for so long, all he wanted was to run, to fight, to hit, and it was especially bad with all his combat programming and defense algorithms flashing across his mind. Fear and worry and anger made him pulse, but it wasn't the time for it. Hot Rod reminded himself that he needed to be ready to go, but for now, he had to push that down, and keep still.

For Kup. For Arcee, and Springer.

He wished they were here. He'd been the last of the group before, but never alone. He didn't want to be a last resistance, a last prayer.

He hoped they were okay.

The new enemy, the strange bots, were still rummaging around, but he could hear some of them getting closer. They were still in the other building, he could pick up some voices that sounded distinctly 'up' and distant, but someone else was coming his way.

Just wait. Don't move. Don't think. Just wait.

Had he disturbed too much of the dust and debris? He hoped not. He couldn't get caught. He needed to not get caught.

Hot Rod curled a little tighter, kept his scanners up.

What if they could pick up scanners?

He turned everything that transmitted off. Stupid. Stupid. Arcee would have had his head for that. She was the best of them at being quiet, at the waiting game, as long as she knew what was up. She was as impatient as Hot Rod if they didn't know anything, but when she knew the game, Arcee could be like a sphinx.

Someone had scuffed a stone.

Silence.

Don't move don't move don't move.

They weren't coming in the way he had- maybe they hadn't seen that window? Maybe they wouldn't see the window.

He hoped they had missed it. The only other door he'd noticed had been blocked by rubble from the inside, which cut off an important exit, but left only one way inside, if you were narrow enough to fit. And he was. Maybe they wouldn't even see it, and just wander the floors above him.

Yeah, maybe they wouldn't see it.

He hoped they wouldn't see it.

Don't see it, don't see it, please don't see it. There had been some kind of bushes around it, hadn't there? Yeah, yeah there had been, he remembered listening to them brush against the building while he strained to hear. Yeah. Maybe they wouldn't notice.

There were footsteps falling above him now, quietly as they could in a building so hollow and so long abandoned. He could hear the quiet shuffle of them moving things, looking, scanning. Well they wouldn't find him there. He couldn't hear anyone talk, but he could hear people outside, securing the perimeter.

Muffled sounds, closer to his level. A bit of digging, then retreating footsteps. Someone had found the door from upstairs, but not bothered to clear a way down. Why should they, when it had clearly been blocked for some time? Almost in the clear. Think positive.

It was vital now that they not find that window. He wouldn't run, not just because that would be a bad idea, but because he couldn't if he wanted to. Wouldn't becoming couldn't was a darker prospect then he liked.

Rustling.

Uh oh.

Rustling and a grating of hands feeling out broken glass.

Uh oh. Uh oh. The feet above him mostly stopped moving. Someone must have contacted them over the .com lines. Not good. He could hear them feeling around, figuring out if they could fit. They'd all looked pretty big, across the field. Maybe they were too big. Maybe they were all too big.

Please be all too big.

His spark was pulsing so hard Hot Rod was afraid they'd feel it.

More shuffling by the window. Some more of the group arriving. Still no talking. He thought he heard the quiet hum of a scanner, but he couldn't be sure.

Quiet now, not a lot of shuffling. That meant they were talking. He hoped it was about how nothing could be done here.

The minutes dragged. What were they doing? Should he try to run? Probably, but to where? This was a stupid place to hide. He shouldn't have gone for cover, he should have kept going. He should have whirled and fought when Arcee first went quiet-

"Find the other little guy yet?"

Someone was joining the people by the window.

"Is he in there? We heard he was in this direction, figured we should come and help-"

"Quiet."

"Why, what is he, dangerous? He can't be much bigger than the pink one, and he looked pretty young in the scopes, what are you guys afraid of? If we can out muscle him, you sure as hell-"

"Shut. Up."

And then it was quiet again, except for some sheepish shuffling.

They definitely knew where he was.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. How long were they going to drag this out? Maybe they weren't sure? Maybe they planned to starve him out of it? Maybe they were just screwing with him.

"Hey. Hey autobot? We know that you're down there. Why don't you come up, we can talk about it?"

Hot Rod didn't move. He wasn't stupid. He was also too scared to get out of his box. He felt insulted too, that they'd think he was so dumb and naive, but the fear was heavier then the indignity right now.

"We're not going to hurt you. Your friends are okay, by the way. We meant what we said before. Why don't you just come with us, maybe you can help us with your buddies when they wake up, since they'll trust you more than they'll trust us. Tell them that we're okay guys?"

"You cog-headed-!"

"'When they wake up', nice, real nice. Go sit over there... Autobot, your friends are out cold, but they're alright. We did that to avoid a struggle, and minimize casualties. We'd rather not do the same to you. Just show us your hands, and come up. We know you're in there, and we know you're around the centre of the room, with the storage. Come on- it's filthy down there, and you must be hungry. We've got some energon for you, and a nice place to sleep on the ship. All we want to do is talk, and tell you what's happening. Would you like to know what's happening?"

He wouldn't move. They hadn't said exactly where he was, so maybe they didn't know. He'd fake them out if he could.

They waited a while for him to respond. He didn't.

"Go get Bowfire, he was an autobot a long time ago, wasn't he?"

"How come it's okay to talk out loud now?"

"Because we know he's in there, and he has nowhere to go anyway- you know what, why am I explaining this to you? Just get him."

No way was there an autobot, former or not, with these people. Autobots this late in the game stuck it out, and no one who hadn't would admit to ever being one to the enemy side.

No way.

While they waited, the group by the window continued their attempts to talk him out. It'd be best if he did. He had to know he was outnumbered, why not just make it easier on himself? They weren't going to let him try, but he wouldn't win a starvation war either. Speaking of which, they had a fresh cube right here if he wanted to come out and get it. He was alone. If they wanted to hurt him, they could have just stormed the building. On and on, but Hot Rod wouldn't respond. He tried not even to move. They knew he was in the room, but not exactly where, he didn't think. Maybe he could still bolt? Or take a hostage.

He just didn't want to give up. He'd never been good at making the call at when to surrender.

Kup or Arcee would have probably been mad with him over this, but Springer probably would have stuck it out too. He'd be ticked off to know Hot Rod had done it alone, but he'd have done it himself.

Springer was like that.

Footsteps coming back.

Someone getting down by the window.

"Hey? Autobot? Can you hear me?"

"He can hear you, he's just not responsive."

"So we know if he's still conscious and everything? Someone in my group thinks they might have skimmed him back there when he and the pink and white ran."

"Nah, scanner says he's fine."

Pretty good scanner. Hot Rod felt his hopes drop a bit at that. If they had scanners that could pick up on his wakefulness, they probably knew exactly where he was.

"We know his weapons? Anyone got an ID?"

"Not really a known- seen around the Prime, and a few Wreckers, but he's not seen too much combat. Paint job like that would stick out in footage. He's got a blaster we know of, no built in weapons that we can see or pick up."

"Alright, let me try talking to him."

"Well don't got in there-"

"Of course I'm not going in there, don't be dense. Even if I wanted to, I'd never fit."

He should get into a defensive position. It was no use hiding, he had nothing to gain. He should be ready to attack, or run. Something.

At least stand up and face then like a soldier.

But he couldn't get out of the box. It was stupid- he wasn't really even hidden at this point. He just couldn't make himself get out. He'd look dumb, for one thing, after not communicating for so long, and well, honestly?

It was stupid, it was really stupid- but he was- not scared. He wasn't scared. He just felt safer inside it. Like they didn't know exactly where he was.

Like he had a chance.

"Sky niner, laydown zero."

What?

"Sky niner, laydown zero. Autobot, I know you can hear that. You have to know that code. Sky niner, laydown zero."

The skids was that supposed to mean?

"Sky niner, laydown zero. Come on autobot, at least respond?"

"Scanner isn't even picking up movement. I've got nothing. Whatever that means, he doesn't seem to care."

"Sky niner, laydown zero."

"Alright then, plan b."

A lot of people were moving now, away from the window and a few of them messing around it. There was a lot of commotion, and Hot Rod took advantage of it to finally move from where he hid. Scrap was he stiff. No one should be able to see him from behind the pile. Maybe there was another way out. Maybe there was a weak point in the rubble.

BOOM.

The force of it knocked Hot Rod off his feet and rendered all audial pick up invalid. He scrambled back to his hands and knees, swaying. Where was his gun? He was under attack, he needed his gun. Why were the boxes all over? His gun was under them, he needed his gun, he couldn't get caught. Find your gun and get out, find your gun and get out-

Pressure on his neck, error readings, and he sank to the floor.

No no, get up. Don't lay down, get up. They need you, don't get caught.

He was so heavy.

Maybe that was okay.

That was not okay, fight it.

A hand on his shoulder. He tried to scramble back and only managed a bit of a wiggle into the floor, trying to evade, but it pushed him down. It held him there until he started to think it was okay again. It was okay to lay down. He was very tired, and that was good. That was okay. The error readings had stopped, replaced by new instructions and alerts.

They all seemed to think lying down was a good idea.

He pushed up against the hand one more time before sinking into the welcoming darkness.

"Alright, he's out like a light. Tag 'im and bag 'im."