*Insert witty text here.*
Title: Genesis: Prologue [1/??]
Pairings: Implied Tarantulus/Mirage if you squint.
Verse: Shattered Glass AU with a dash of other verses thrown in for substance.
Rating: R [to be safe.]
Warnings: Implied past non-con, implied mech death/near permanent offlining. Idea spawned from an RP that happened about 5 or so mths ago.
Summary: [Overall] Sunstorm. Mirage. Blackout. Arcee: Mechs designed for war, created and experimented on in peace times. But they escaped and were assumed dead or deactivated after five vorns of searching, the Project was disbanded, discarded and forgotten about. And now, 7.5 million years on, they live in peace, unknowing that the choices that they made in the past are now coming into play, slowly leading the fate of the war down a very different path, and that they will play major roles in shaping the course of things to come.
[Chapter] The four fled as fast as they could, each scattering to a differing part of the planet. Only one was chased though, straight into the lands of one known only as Hound. And the path of what was to come started down a very different trail.
Disclaimer: I wish that I owned.
Beta: zeroxgirl1201
A/N: Sunstorms' form is similar to the Shattered Glass Starscream framewise only.. Mirages first name is his Japanese one, though altered slightly to fit my tastes, and as far as I know, I didn't get it from elsewhere. ^__^?
Parts of this chapter were Rped out with thecagedcanary and taken from that. [mainly the Hound and Mirage parts ]
Feedback is very much loved. >__> i wanna know if I creep anyone out with this.
Time units used: Breem - 8.3 mins, Jor 6 hours, Orn = 13 days and Vorn/stellacycle = 83 earth years.
It was silent as the orn broke over the small artificial town of Pyrax, built for one purpose only: to hide the existence of one very highly illegal lab. What was created and experimented on inside it was considered the greatest anathema to Cybertronians everywhere.
But no one knew, and no one would know, for even if the experiments escaped, they would be hunted down like common criminals and dragged back to the labs.
But fate had other plans, and the destinies of the Genesis Experiments and Cybertron was to become interwoven in one split second.
-- half a joor previous. ---
"Go!"
The green opticed mech nodded as he darted out, the stolen electro-rifle primed in his hands. Behind him, the only surviving femme, a pink and white thing, darted out as well. Her optics were a sickly yellow as the Berserker Program took over, and Green optics prayed to the Unmaker that she would not be a liability in the escape plans.
But that didn't matter. They were so close and there was none to stop them. All the head scientists, barring one, were not in the labs at the present. It was only the technicians and the helpers, and that was why they were making the escape now. He couldn't...they couldn't afford to stay any longer. Not when he knew that sooner or later they would be scrapped for new models. Faster, stronger, more obedient ones. And the Mark Seven of the Reijii series did not want to be euthanized because he was not good enough.
It was the same with the other three, mostly. But that hardly mattered right now. Reijii looked to the side as the gunmetal-grey of the Mark Ten flier came into view, and he fell back, even as the first EMP wave was unleashed. It took out the remaining techs, and a few well placed rounds from the femme ensured they were dead. None of them had any second thoughts about killing what stood in their way. It wasn't an option, at all.
"Keep moving!” The voice of the Mark Thirteen jet type flier came. “Blackout, Reijii, do it!"
"Yes." Blackout lumbered forth. Not the brightest in the group, he more than made up for that with his sheer size and the EMPs that he created. The leader of the group, a gold and white flier, used that to his advantage. While Blackout fried the electronics, Reijii slipped onto his 'invisible' state, and darted through the now open doors, gunning down the last of the techs that stood in their way. He stopped when he saw Shockwave. He backed up, fear playing in his optics.
The purple mech would have smirked if he could have, instead, he raised his gun arm. "Stand down."
Gold-yellow optics crackled with suppressed radiation, and a yellow bolt of it was shot forth. The owner of it was the gold and white flier.
"No." His optics flashed red as his entire frame crackled. The mech surged forth. Shockwave had a hard time at dodging it. But the attack served its purpose, and the pink and white femme darted forth, planting the stolen charged on the door. "MOVE!"
There was hardly time to move though as the charges blew. Instantly, the femme was out, darting away to freedom. Reijii was next, hidden under the illusion that the disruptor created. Blackout was next, and then finally the gold and white flier. Shockwave snarled in anger as they escaped, though in his present state, he could do little. But what he could do was done.
Up in the air, Blackout gave a grunt as the systems that held his EMP in place gave out, and he fell, crashing as his insides where fried. He would remain where he crashed for a long time. No one cared, or would risk their frames for the fallen brute, and Shockwave certainly did not consider the EMP Experiment worth saving. He had other things to do, like contacting the other creators, if possible, and organizing the search teams for the escaped 'criminals.'
They could not be allowed to remain in the outside world, not at all.
---
Reijii was sick of running, sick of not being able to stop for longer than an orn or so before he had to move again. As the weakest of the escaped mechs, a team had been sent out after him, and the silver-grey mech had clumsily repainted himself to dark blue and silver in an effort to hide. Though the paint wasn't proper, wasn't right. He looked like someone hadn't the care to paint him right at all. And he looked harrowed, like a turbo fox that was being hounded by the cyberwolves, Not that he cared. If it kept him out of the clutches of his Creator, he'd do what he had to. He did NOT want to go back to that mad-mech’s claws, and Stars only knew what Tarantulas would do if he did end up back there. Make him suffer as he was offlined, no doubt, but that was neither here nor there.
As it was, his disruptor was failing, and there was only a junk yard nearby. He could tell that it had some kind of shelter, and he headed towards there quickly. He was glad that his frame looked like that of racer mechs, and had the speed as well. He just had to reach the safety of the junk pile.
There were noises about Hound's land, noises his keen audio receptors could hear all too easily, and he could smell the mech as well. Dirt was what the mech smelt like, as if he hadn’t been in the wash racks in ages, but didn’t smell like a thief. He would decide that when he caught the mech.
Dark green plating that was silver in patches from little care to it, blended into the vista of the junk yard he managed and lived in away from the rest of society. A society that had wanted to kill him, and would have, if it hadn't been for a favor from a mech named Optronix, whoever that was, though part of the deal was that he’d serve that mech in any way. For now it was tending a scrap heap.
It was confusing, but he didn’t question it. It really wasn’t so bad out here, just the thieves, whom he caught far more often than not. He was allowed to do with them as he wished. There was no security enforcement here, only Hound’s will.
Reijj darted behind a junk pile, hunkering down as the disrupter failed, scooting back when he heard sounds. He looked around for an escape route, even though he didn't know how much longer he could run, if he could run anymore at all. He was low on energon, low on energy and in desperate need of a good recharge. As the noise grew louder, Mirage, as he would come to be known, tensed, ready to bolt if given the chance.
Red optics flickered as his large frame moved quietly, even gracefully. There had been all sorts of activity over the radio broadcasts he had listened to. Slowly he circled about that junk pile, the smell of the mech heightened at the proximity. He moved around until he was upon the mech, as quiet as the most eldest and skilled cyberwolf. A hand shot out as he found the mech, catching a slender arm before he gave a growl, picking the mech half up off the ground,
“And just what are you doing, little scrap?” he asked, voice a deep rumble, but smooth and articulate at the same time. Mirage hadn’t heard him coming, so when he was yanked up, he gave a started cry, His own voice was rough, abrasive to the audios. He kicked and struggled, trying in vain to get free. Optics flashed as he took in the mech, noting that he seemed more powerful, and stronger, perhaps even taller.
“I asked you a question,” spoke the green mech, red optics dim. “You’re not a thief, are you? No, not looking like that. . .” he deduced. “So what are you doing out here, hmmm? You know, those who aren’t armed are susceptible to packs of marauding cyberwolves or worse. . .” he continued, still holding the mech by that arm, optics flicking over the battered and carelessly painted frame.
He didn't answer when he stopped his struggles when he found that he wouldn't get free. Meta raced as he looked around, optics still wide, scared, but not of the mech that held him. No, of those he knew was chasing him.
“Let me go,” he spoke at last. He made no effort to get away. His HUD was displaying low fuel warning, and he figured that he was doomed.
Seeing the mech look around, Hound gave a frown, “Whoever is chasing you had better not step on my lands, and no, I can’t let you go. You’d mess something up,” he murmured. Why he was about to do something kind, he didn’t know, but the mech reeked and he couldn't stand it. He did not let go as he lightly set the mech down. Instead, he took an elbow and started to haul Mirage towards the abode that sat nearly centered within the scrap yard.
Reijii scowled back. When he was tugged toward the plain, two story high windowless abode, he gave a cry, digging his heels in, though it was useless. He didn't have the stamina left in him to truly offer more than a token, feeble resistance. He could only go where the mech wanted him and horrid thoughts flashed his meta.
“W-What..?” He stumbled when shoved, and caught himself, just, looking around, optics still wide, still frightened. He didn't have his wits about him that was for sure right now.
With the door closed behind, he set it to lock before walking right past the mech who had just fallen into a defensive position. It was an incredibly dismissive move on his part, but he was hardly fearful of the mech. It was too weak from lack of energon to do much of anything.
“You…you're going to turn me in, aren't you.” Optics narrowed, and he shifted to keep himself balanced. He’d fight if he had to, fight to get free. He'd never go back to that place again.
“Turn you in? For what reason? Do I look like I need a reward?” he asked, looking back at the mech, his expression stern. “I was going to offer you a wash and a cube. You smell like regurgitated energon and it’s giving me a CPU ache,” he murmured, scarlet optics flaring. His olfactory sensors had received upgrades during his time in the Academy, and now they were quite sensitive to such offending smells.
“Ah... I thought that they… It doesn't matter.” He shook his head, relaxing a little when the other reassured him he wouldn’t turn him in.
“C’mon, scraplet, wash rack is back here,” he said, moving towards the back of the abode. It was simply furnished, most of it put together by his own two hands, but it was comfortable none the less.
Mirage didn't protest the scraplet bit. He'd rather be thought of as young, younger and only just of age, maybe not even that. He didn't want his true age to be known. But he did have a name, one that he liked, and that wasn't linked to the hell that he'd just escaped.
“I do have a name. It’s…Mirage.” He lied about the name though. And he did like Mirage better than Reijii. Padding forward, the tracker gave only a soft grunt of acknowledgment to Mirage’s name. Again, he bade Mirage to follow.
“Wash racks?” He blinked and followed the mech, curious. Was he really…but that was... He shook his head, looking around, whistling a little. It looked nice. “T-thank you...And I like this place… It looks better than the - Than where I was before.”
Hound was quiet in general, and with a few steps, he led Mirage back to the wash racks. It wasn’t too large, just big enough to be comfortable for the green mech, so it would be downright spacious for Mirage. It was obvious the mech was a loner from his quiet nature.
“Here, and call me ‘Hound,’” he murmured. “There’s towels there,” he said, pointing to a cabinet across from the racks before he strode away, seemingly disinterested. True, the mech could believe he had sordid motives, but he really didn’t. He could do that with his hand rather than force himself on someone. No, he may have killed mechs, but forcing himself on another wasn’t his sort of thing.
Mirage blinked a few times before turning his attention to the wash racks, a clueless look appearing on his faceplates before it was replaced with determination. He moved forward. He'd treat this like a test, trial and error. Only he hoped that there wouldn't be acid coming out of he got it wrong. The dark green mech didn't seem the sort though...but. He shook his head and focused on the wash racks. After a couple tries and a few yelps, he figured it out.
And it was the best wash he'd ever had, made better by the taste of freedom. So much better.