TF (OC): Searchin’
Rating: PG
Series: G1
Summary: This is the back-story for my OC Tracer. Tracer wakes up back in the midst of what she now knows is her faction. But the Autobots want her back and mount a rescue mission.
Warnings: Decepticons being fluffier than you’ve ever seen them be?
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten… Tracer belongs to me… as do Kicker and Rollback
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Authors Notes: Smokescreen grows on you after a while… in a completely good way mind you.
Searchin' Part One
Searchin' Part Two
Searchin' Part Three
Searchin' Part Four
Searchin' Part Five
Searchin' Part Six
Searchin' Part Seven
Searchin' Part Eight
Searchin' Part Nine
Searchin' Part Ten
Searchin' Part Eleven
Searchin' Part Twelve
Searchin' Part Thirteen
Searchin' Part Fourteen
Searchin' Part Fifteen
Smokescreen sat quietly at the back of the meeting room. A plan was being thrashed out between Prowl, Jazz and Red Alert on the best way to infiltrate the Decepticon’s headquarters and rescue Tracer.
“Do ya really think it was revenge?” Inferno muttered. The fire engine was leaning uncomfortably against the wall, optics focussed on the exchange between the three officers.
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Does to me. I know he went after her back when we were on Cybertron. Slag, I was there when he got her and I couldn’t do nothing.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Smokescreen murmured automatically, snapping his optics to the group around the table as Red Alert stood up straighter, angrily pointing at the display in front of him.
“Never said it were. I just want to know why he still wants her.”
“You’re close to her.” Smokescreen changed the subject.
“We all were. You don’t stay in a team for as long as we did without caring about each other.”
“We’ll get her back Inferno.”
“Least this time we know exactly where she is.” Inferno carried on as though he hadn’t heard Smokescreen speak.
“Right…” Jazz paused, motioning Smokescreen and Inferno to the table. “This is gonna be the plan…”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tracer was greeted with the all-too-familiar sight of the ceiling when she onlined. For a moment, she struggled to remember what had happened. Memories flooded her processor and she sat straight up.
“Gah! Don’t move! I am not having you ruin all my perfect work.” The cultured voice reverberated in her audios and she tilted her head slightly to see the owner of the voice.
“Hook?” She asked hesitantly. The Constructicon crossed the room quickly, coming to stand by the side of her berth.
“Ah you do remember. We were wondering whether the hit that Autobot got on you would have disrupted your memory banks. Soundwave will be pleased.” She listened as he continued talking, mentioning names that sounded incredibly familiar yet so very alien to her.
“Now, you can leave, but I’ve had to remove your transforming cog to repair it properly, so you are stuck in your root mode for now.” Tracer nodded and sat up slowly, letting her gyros stabilise themselves to being upright. Jumping down off the table, she made her way out into the corridor, turning and heading in one direction instinctively.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Walking down the corridor, she realised that she wasn’t sure why she was going in the direction she was heading, only that it was the direction she needed to take. She passed few others, the corridors quite deserted. She presumed everyone was gathered in the common room or on duty in the command room.
Eventually, she came to a stop outside a doorway. Venting a soft sigh, she opened the door.
“You function within normal parameters?” He asked as soon as she stepped through the door, not looking up from the data pad he was holding.
“Yes.” It seemed unimportant to elaborate anymore. She easily hopped up onto the smaller recharge berth in the room and lay down on her front. Repairs always left her feeling drained and she wanted nothing more than to drop straight into recharge. She listened to the familiar sounds of Soundwave working and the hum of the generators powering the ship. She felt Ravage jump up onto the berth and settle down at her side and she was filled with a sense of peace that seemed at odds with her location. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Deciding that it wasn’t worth worrying about, she let herself relax, twisting slightly so she could pet Ravage. It was only when Rumble and Frenzy started arguing about the video game they were playing that the peace was broken. Abruptly, she heard Soundwave put down his datapad and stand up.
“Rumble, Frenzy, desist now.” He commanded, turning towards the casseticons. Immediately they stopped arguing and apologised. Tracer stifled her laughter, but could feel Ravage shaking with silent laughter.
“It is time to refuel.” He announced. Reluctantly, she stood up and let him lead the way to the common room. Ravage padded along at her heels, Rumble and Frenzy following close behind, bickering quietly. Tracer found there was nothing she could think of to say to Soundwave while they walked, which was slightly disconcerting.
More disconcerting, she found for some unusual reason, was standing in the doorway to the common room and staring at half of the Decepticon force as they stared back at her. A small part of her processor was trying to shut down out of sheer terror whilst the rest was trying to fathom the reason for the uncomfortable feeling. Soundwave placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder before ushering her in and over to the energon dispenser. Once they’d gotten their ration of energon, they sat at a nearby (thankfully unoccupied) table.
There was little conversation, they were content just to sit with one another in silence. Tracer could hear the low hum of conversation all around her; murmured whispers and laughs and jeers. It all felt so familiar, but at the same time, she felt like she didn’t belong here, regardless of what the faction symbol on her chest plate dictated.
Tracer was no more than halfway through her cube when Starscream decided to join them, sitting down at their table. Immediately, the room seemed to still as though expecting something momentous to happen. Starscream leant across the table to stare at Tracer, gently flicking the red visor covering her optics.
“Hook managed to salvage your femme then Soundwave?” The innocent-sounding question had an undertone of malice that made Tracer want to shy away. The implications were clear and somehow, they sparked a memory, but it was only fleeting. She quietly finished her energon while the others talked, or rather while Starscream talked and Soundwave gave the appearance of listening, desperately waiting until they could leave the common room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Is there something wrong?” Soundwave asked her as they made their way back to his quarters. He had noticed her unease while they were in the common room and was determined to find out the reason why.
“Everything just seems... I don’t know… hazy?” She ventured, stopping in the corridor and looking up at him.
“Hazy?”
“As though I’m missing something. As though something isn’t quite right, but I don’t know what it is.”
“Do you need to see Hook once more?” Tracer shrugged. She doubted there was anything the Constructicon surgeon could do to settle her unease. She shook her head and was about to reply in the negative when she was interrupted by the sound of sirens blaring throughout the ship. Instinctively, she covered her audios against the sound, barely registering when Soundwave grabbed her arm, half-dragging her down the corridor. Rumble and Frenzy had scampered off at the first sound of the sirens, looking for whatever trouble there was. Ravage continued following Tracer and Soundwave down the corridor. Soundwave pushed her into his quarters, Ravage barely managing to slip through aswell before he shut the door.
“Stay here.” He ordered, locking the door before disappearing off down the corridor. Shocked, she could do nothing but stare at the locked door for long moments, wondering why she was being protected. Why couldn’t she fight? Ravage sat at her feet, staring up at her before refocusing his attention on the doorway.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor and she could hear gunfire outside. Cringing, she made her way to the back of the room, as far away from the noise and evident fighting as she could be. A quick check of subspace pockets revealed no weaponry to use to defend herself. It was just her and Ravage, and neither of them would stand much chance against some of the larger Autobots. So she resorted to hiding; there was nothing else she could do except wait and hope the battle wouldn’t come her way.
It seemed such a short time later that she heard footsteps of a different cadence echo down the corridor, coming to a stop outside the room she was in. Sensors detecting an Autobot energy signature she froze, ready to defend herself if needed. Ravage bristled from his position at her side. The doors whined as they were forced open and a large black mech. stepped through. He scanned the room immediately, optics brightening when he saw her. A confused look flashed briefly through his optics as he registered the visor and the faction symbol on her chest.
“I’ve found her… and Ravage.” She heard him speak into his comm. system. Suddenly, Ravage leapt towards this intruder, allowing Tracer a chance at escape. He was distracted as Ravage moved, trying to counter the smaller Decepticon’s movement and Tracer took advantage of the distraction, launching herself past him. He broke off from defending himself against Ravage’s attacks to try and grab her, but her smaller size meant that she was easily able to avoid him. As she slipped through the door, she heard Ravage attack again; the sound of metal scraping against metal. Tracer didn’t stop to hear anything more, concentrating on escaping and getting as far away from this Autobot as possible, or at least as far as finding a weapon to use against him! Conflicting feelings ran through her processor; ones of trust mingled with affection, yet tinged with hate and disgust. She glanced over her shoulder as she ran, checking that she wasn’t being followed. The corridors appeared deserted; evidently the main battle was elsewhere on the ship, something for which Tracer was very grateful for.
Rounding the corner, she ran headlong into another Autobot. Cursing, she flailed desperately as he held on to her.
“I gotcha kid.” The voice was familiar, as was the energy signature, but Tracer was panicked and unable to focus properly. Why were the Autobots after her? And why had they captured her instead of simply shooting? She kept struggling, trying to break free of his grip.
“Tracer, stop it all right?” She paused, processor registering the use of her name. Since when did the Autobots deign to call their prisoners by name?
“Inferno?” A lilting voice sounded from behind the large mech. who currently had her in his arms.
“I’ve got her, but she ain’t gonna come quietly.”
“Hate to have to do this then.” Tracer twisted and managed to see a visored mech. reach round and slip something in between the plating on her leg. Her systems registered the intrusion, but were shut down before they had a chance to retaliate.
The small group of Autobots made their way towards the entrance they’d made for themselves. A final distraction courtesy of explosives from Wheeljack and they were on their way back to the surface.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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Part Seventeen