Author: Supermoi PM
A plague had spread amongst the humans, and the Autobots and Decepticons reacts quite differently to it. See the Transformer's POV of the End of the World described by Stephen King in his book The Stand. -NO SLASH RATED M FOR LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE AND DISTURBING THEMES-Rated: Fiction M - English - Tragedy/Angst - Words: 4,326 - Reviews: 1 - Follows: 3 - Published: 05-31-12 - id: 8169333
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's note: Ok, this may seems weird to most of you, but this idea had been in my mind for many days now, since I've started to read Stephen King's The Stand yet again. And me being a Huge TF's fan, I've been wondering, what would be the Transformer's (Autobots and Decepticon's) reaction to this situation? What would they do, how would they react? Probably a one-shot, but more likely a two parts story with both the Autobot, and then the Decepticon's reaction.
Disclaimer: Transformers and Stephen King's The Stand belongs to their rightful owners.
Autobots: Amongst the dead, a spark of life...
Somewhere near Portland, Oregon, one lonely, dusty car was driving down the streets. The vehicule was hard to make out as the air was filled with smoke and cinders from a nearby fire that had burned down a rafinnery to its foundation, and was still, after three days, still burning out its last remants, thick black clouds rolling over the scene and in the streets and sky around it. If any humans were still in the vicinity they would've been chocked by those toxic fumes and driven away. However, there was no one around. No Firefighters to try and stop the fire, no workers trying to save their lives and fleeing away, no one to even see the fire burning bright in the dark, foreboding night. A night that bore not only the stench of smoke and fumes, but also a heavy, almost overwhelming aroma of death.
The lonely golden Lamborghini, stopped for but a moment, and seeing that it was useless to try to do anything, just continued down the road and away from the inferno. It swerved and swirled through the rubbles, cars, carts, debris blocking the roads at many points. It was hard to navigate, but for this car, it was a piece of cake. If machines could have Goosebumps, this particular one would have had a permanent case after rolling over something... horribly familiar yet completely disgusting laying just outside a crashed car. The car tried to avoid it as best it could but there was another car blocking the other side of the road and it couldn't avoid the impact... he felt the corpse squah with a disgusting sound under its tires on the right side of the car and shuddered with helpless horror, stopped like it was collecting itself, then resumed its patrol, restlessly searching, scanning for any signs of life.
So far, none had shown up... It seemed hopeless...
"Sunstreaker, report! Any findings?"
Prowl's voice cut through his dark, depressed and tense thought, and the golden warrior almost jumped on his axels at the sudden voice. It seemed too loud, totally inappropriate, like he was inside a mausoleum or a tomb. But he replied quickly, regaining his wits. Right at this moment, he missed his red twin immensely... The other Lamborghini was patrolling inside the city a few miles away.
"Nothing so far. I'll keep scouting the outskirts of the city, but... Prowl... It's a cemetery out there. How could this have happened? All I can see around me is death and destruction..."
The golden twin sounded almost... frightened, dejected and slightly depressed. As well as disbelieving. There was a long silence from the other end of the line, Prowl being uncharacteristically nervous and tense. But who wouldn't be, in such a situation? One would have to be sparkless to feel nothing at all...
"Keep looking, Sunstreaker. There must be some survivors... Somewhere. Report back in one cycle. Prowl out."
And with that the line was cut, leaving the golden Lambo alone with his thoughts, in the ruins of the human civilization. And as he scouted half-sparkedly through deserted, destruction and desolation-filled streets, he remembered how this had all started. It was two weeks ago, and Sparkplug had came to them with a strange story and a dejected air to him...
-two weeks earlier, June 22-
"Bumblebee? Can you come get me? I... I really need to see you guys! Like... right now!"
It was early morning, on this bright sunny day, on June 22, and Bumblebee was a little surprised by Sparkplug's tune, which was so unfit to the weather outside. The usually easy going man sounded frightened, almost panicky, and this gave the yellow scout an almost... foreboding feeling. Something bad was going to happen, or was already happening. SO he answered with a hint of worry in his own usually cheerful voice.
"Sure Sparkplug! Is there something wrong? You sounds a little off, today, pal."
"I'll explain when you get there. Please... Its... I'm terrified ok? It's a real crisis situation!"
Bumblebee really didn't liked the sound of Spike's voice. it was strained, and sounded like he was having trouble intaking air in his tanks. Like they were clogged or something. He frowned, and was off immediately, answering him by the positive. On his way there, he crossed many military vehicles going towards Portland to the north on the Interstate. This, too, added to his worry and his foreboding feeling. The small yellow bugged pulled up in front of Spike's house a few minutes later, and was surprised by how... empty the streets looked. Like everyone decided to take a day off all of a sudden.
Spike and Sparkplug were already waiting outside their house with bags at their feet and looked ready to just abandon the house and move in with the Autobots. Spike looked sick, he was coughing every now and then, and sneezing too, and wiping his nose on his sleeve often. His eyes were too bright, his cheeks too red... Yeah, definitely sick. But Sparkplug looked to be fine, in perfect health, but deadly worried as he held his son's shoulder and led him to the car, the shivering teen all but collapsing on the backseat to lay there, curled up and wheezing in a very unhealthy manner.
"Spike, you're sick! You should go to a doctor!" Bee exclaimed as he scanned the small human and found that he had fever, his lungs were filled with liquids and he had a swollen neck. "I can take you..."
"No!" Sparklug interrupted. "No doctors! They can't do a slag about it! What do you think I tried before calling on you? The local clinic's overflowing with patients and they can barely keep up... And... And... Ho fuck it, Bee! It's like everyone's caught this damn shit! I don't even know what it is and now... my boy got it too! I... I need to talk to Prime, and the others! Now!"
Sparkplug's tune left no place for argument, and Bee just started up his engines and headed back to the base, his thoughts swirling. He informed Prowl and Prime that he wanted to meet the command staff as soon as possible, with Spakplug, at the human's demand. But not after Spike was put on a nice bed in the medbay under First Aid's vigilant optics, while Ratchet went for the meeting. The poor boy was literally burning with fever and he was delirious by the time he was put on an IV and tons of ice was piled on him. Still, his condition was awful... and worried the two medics a lot.
**conference room, 15 minutes later**
Optimus Prime was at the head of the large table, and on both sides were his officers. To his right Prowl, ever silent and calm, overlooking the room with his cold blue optics; Jazz was to his left, smiling and head bobbing at the sound of music he was the only one to hear; Ratchet and Ironhide facing each others, the medic sporting a deep worried, dark expression, and the Weapon's specialist playing with the barrel of his gun with a nervous twitch; And last but not least were Red Alert and Blaster, at the end of the table, the first being all twitchy and nervous as ever and the second relaxed and smiling some.
At this moment though, as Sparkplug was telling his story, the mood darkened slowly until everyone was sporting the same dark scowl as Ratchet, and the tension had rose to a thick, almost visible level. Sparklug was now finishing his tale.
"...and Spike caught it yesterday, in the night he started to cough and got a fever. I don't know what it is... Carly's been gone for two days too, I don't know where she is or even if she's alright or what. I can't reach her on either her apartment's phone or her cellphone. It's like everything's going to Hell really fast out there."
Optimus was the first to speak up when Sparkplug was done, and his tune was solemn and held a deep concern. He too had been faced to many incongruities during the last week. He had first received a call from the US military telling them that, until further notice, they weren't welcome to leave their bases, and if they did, they'd be shot on sight. It was three days ago. Since then, he had started to send mechs out to scout by night and trying to find out what the Pit was wrong with the Miliary all of a sudden. They seemed to be avoiding his calls knowingly and no one was even acknowledging his requests for informations anymore. This morning, before Sparklplug's call, he had even tried to reach the President himself, but was yet again faced with a stern and even downright malevolent refusal. He was... worried, eve slightly afraid of what was going on outside their base. Prowl knew, as well as jazz and Ratchet, but the less people knew, the best, for the moment though, he thought. The tactician was a great help in trying to guess what was wrong. And so far, all the scenarios he came up with were less then nice. Even... frightening in some aspects.
He remembered quite well the meeting that had followed this awkward call from the High Command of the US military. Things had been tense, to say the least.
-FLASHBACK (3 days ago)-
Optimus Prime had called a special meeting with Prowl and Jazz only. His second and Third needed to know what was going on before the word could be spread amongst the other officers, not to mention the troops. The always cool SIC was the first to arrive, and Jazz a moment later. Both looked accurately worried, but Prowl was doing a good job at hiding his own thoughts.
"Prowl, Jazz, I am glad that you came in such a short notice. There is a situation that needs to be brought to your attention with the humans." The Prime started, looking one mech then the other in the optics. "I have just received a very worrying call from the US military half an hour ago. There is no way to sweetens what they told me. To be blunt, we are confined to our base until further notice. Any Autobot caught outside the base is to be shot on sight."
For a moment there was a long, disbelieving silence, and Jazz was the first to break it after he managed to collect his dropped jaw from the floor. Figuratively of course... But the usually cheerful, hard to anger or surprise mech looked all but floored.
"What're ya sayin' Prime? Why would the humans turn on us all of a sudden? What prompted this?"
Prowl always the logical, more collected mech, tilted his head and looked deeply thoughtful, a frown appearing in his stern faceplates. The doorwinged mech was hard to read, but the sudden tension in his doors were signs that this news had hit him as hard as was just better at concealing his feelings.
"They have no reason to turn on us. I can't see anything that would prompt such a reaction, not in the recent past nor since we came to Earth. This is indeed worrying Optimus." Prowl sighed as he admitted being at a loss too. "The only thing that may have triggered this is some inside problems within the US military. They must be having some troubles of their own and wants to fis this without our help or interference. Probably they doesn't want us to know what is going on either. Hence why they wants us to stay on base until they say we can come out again..."
"Well, that's all good n' dandy Prowl, but we are not seriously going ta jus' stay here and rust while there is certainly something huge brewing outside, huh? Ah mean, come on! We must find out was going on!" Jazz busted out, his anger and shock finally making themselves known. "Prime, please! We can't stay sitting there on our afts!"
Optimus looked at both his Lieutenants and listened to their respective points, finally nodding with a tired yet decided look in his optics. They were both right. Something was brewing, something serious, and the US military wanted to cover it up at all costs. If they were doing this then the problem was huge, probably even bigger then they can imagine right now. But without knowing what was going on... Jazz was right, they had to find out, and they had to be careful about it.
"Alright, thank you, both of you, for your inputs. Prowl, I want you to coordinate nightly patrols starting tonight. Send also the aerialbots as they can avoid detection more easily. Also, I want ground patrols, with strict orders to avoid any detections by the Military, who must be keeping a close eye on the base." Prime looked more decided then ever and there was a fire of determination in his optics when he concluded with. "Alright Men! You have your orders. We will brief the crew in one cycle! Prowl, assemble them and make sure they know what to expect."
"Aye Sir!" Both mechs replied, and Jazz and Prowl shared a look, then left the office.
And now this... Sparkplug's story had just threw more oil on an already very intense fire, and the Officers all looked concerned, some frightened and some desperate. They had known the humans for years now, and only now did they realized how they would be missed if anything was to happen. And something was happening, there was no doubt about it... The human was now sitting dejectedly on the small chair that had been put on the conference table and looked at them all with a sad, hopeless and angry look in his eyes.
"This is... a most concerning story Sparkplug. And you say that this plague is spreading through the town?" Ratchet finally asked, his medical instinct telling him that this was really, really bad, worst then even the human seemed to think.
"Not just the town Ratchet. I'd say it's the entire country. It's... Someone made a horrible mistake in some lab, somewhere, and now the Military and the government is trying to cover it up. But I tell you: this is the worst thing I've ever seen. I personally know 6 peoples that are dead from this Super-Flu already... All friend or neighbors of mine." Sparkplug's loathing was clear in his tune, and he slapped his fist hard on the harm of the chair. "Fuck! It's like the end of the world out there Ratchet! And now Spike caught this... this thing too! He... He's going to die..."
And the human started sobbing, taking his head in his hands and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the image of desperation and helpless horror. His only son was dying, and the Autobots could do nothing for him. Ratchet knew only little about human medicine and even if he downloaded the necessary files it would still take times to find a cure, if there was any, and administer it. By then, according to what they'd discovered in the last three days and what Sparkplug told them, it would be too late. The old medic had never felt so helpless in his entire life... and his anger and helpless rage was mounting with every new report he read. Towns aflame, peoples manifesting on the streets, riots, general chaos and destruction.
He balled his fists and his optics darken a bit more, shaking his head. Looking around the room, he could see the same dejected, helpless rage n every sets of optics. Last time they sent scouts outside, last night, they were almost dismantled by a mob of crazy, sick humans. Bumblebee and Mirage barely made it back in one piece... And it was saying a lot.
"It pains me to say it Sparkplug, but in the current situation, we can't do much more then we already did. This disease, whatever it is, is spreading too fast for the medical crew to even find a cure, and if they do find something, it would be way too late. It would take weeks, even months, time that, if I read the latest reports right, we do not have." Prowl said, being, as ever, the voice of reason. But this time, it was giving him no comfort at all. Only gnawing at his spark like a plague in itself.
"Yeah... Nothing... No one can do a damn thing, can they? Not even you... Who was I fooling when I thought that you would miraculously solve all of those troubles with a wave of your Cybertronian magic wand? Probably just myself..." He replied giving the Tactician the most tired look one could ever see in a man's eyes. He stood, and added, going to the ladder on the edge of the table. "If you'll all excuse me, I'll go to my son. I want to be there when... When he..."
He couldn't finish his sentence, gritting his teeth and jumping down the last five bars of the ladder. He left the room slowly and headed for the medbay, on the way crossing path with the Twins, and also Bee and Bluestreak. He ignored them and went straight there. Inside the conference room, silence had fallen, and everyone was lost in their own thought. Even Blaster didn't dare play any music, and Jazz was scowling darkly. Ironhide looked like he wanted to blow something to pieces, and Prime... he was looking like a heavy weight was on his shoulders, as they were hunched down and his head was bowed.
"This is total slag!" Ironhide finaly grumbled, looking up and around the room at every mechs present. "Are we jus' gonna stay here and mope? Aren't we s'posed to be Allied with the humans? They say they don't want us, but ah say we go out and help anyway! What can they do? Blast us? Ah don't think they would!"
"Ironhide..." Prowl started, his voice calm, in appearance, but he was cut by another mech, Blaster speaking for the first time.
"No, he's right! He's damn well right, Prowl, and you can't deny it! What're we doing here babbling while there are peoples /dying/ out there? I say: we go help! Even if it's just to collect the survivors, it's better than nothing!" The boom box mech snapped back at the tactician, temper rising.
"Silence, both of you!" Prowl snapped back, his commanding tune silencing the two arguing bots. "What I'm trying to say is that we can't just barge in without thinking. The danger is high and the situation, unknown. But probably dire, on any accounts. But!" he continued before any more arguments could raise. "I agree that we can't do nothing. We swore to protect the humans, and that means even against themselves. So, we will keep doing patrols, and send more mechs every times. We won't give up, and we will uphold the Autobot's principle that all life is precious and must be protected."
Optimus gave his SIC a grateful look, and his worn, yet decided blue gaze fell on each and every of his officers, one by one. They were his best men, all of them, the Best Autobot and friends he ever had the chance to meet. If one thing was certain in this catastrophe, it was that they wouldn't give up. Until the end they'll keep by his side and do what was right. All of them... Every single Autobot on his army would give their lives to protect the humans, some probably more than others. but all cared and all would join in those darkest hours of Humanity.
"Thank you Prowl. Well, in the lights of what had been said and what we saw in the last few days, I have no choice but to try to contact Megatron and try to get a ceasefire. At least until the end of the crisis, if there is an end to this crisis." Prime declared in a dark, deeply sorrowful tune. He shook his head and added. "I will not condone the entire Human race for the mistakes of a few. However, when this is all over... We will consider gathering as much energon as we can, and leaving Earth... for good. You are all dismissed."
And the meeting ended there, everyone returning to their duties with a heavy spark and a bad aftertaste on their glossa. Prowl bumped into the twins right outside the door, the two hellions were apparently trying to overhear after seeing Sparkplug leave the room a few minutes earlier. By their expressions, they did hear a few things, and adding this to what they saw on their nightly patrols the day before... It wasn't hard to connect the dots. Disbelief and horror, anger and helplessness, like in every other sets of optics around the ark. No words were exchanged, only pained glances, and the tactician continued to his office, leaving the twins alone.
The same night, Spike died, and the next day, Sparkplug was found dead in the medbay, having killed himself out of sheer sorrow and pain. This blown the Autobot's moral to the pit and many mechs took it so hard Prowl ordered Ratchet to check them close in fear they'd do something reckless. Especially Bumblebee who cried long and hard for his little human friend, but the scout was strong, and he insisted on doing more patrols.
All in all, times were at their worst, and the Decepticons were laughing in their faces,, using the chaos and confusion to pillage at their leisure.
-Present time, July 2, outskirts of Portland, Oregon-
Something hitting his side panel wrenched Sunstreaker out of his thoughts and he jumped out of his plating in surprised fright. But when he looked at what it was, a sudden jolt of happiness and hope blossomed and he stopped, putting on reverse to stop by the little girl's side. The child was probably no older the 4, and she was so dirty it was hard to tell the original color of her hair and clothes. She was looking at him with wide hopeful eyes, and a cute frown came to her face when she saw no one in the driver's seat of this car.
"Hey there." Sunny said in a sift tune trying not to startle her. "Don't be afraid, I'm a friend."
She gulped and touched his door almost reverently like he was some metal God. She stroke it and a small smile came to her lips. His door opened as an invitation to climb in, and the little girl hesitated just a minute before doing so, curling on the passenger's seat. She fell asleep almost immediately, and Sunstreaker commed the base.
"Prowl, I found a survivor! I'm bringing her with me back to base!"
"Good! How's the human doing?" the tactician replied with a sudden jolt of hope in his tune.
"She's dirty and smelly but looks fine. maybe starved too. She's a little girl, no more the 4 years old."
SUnstreaker had started to play soft music in his cab, and headed back to the base, telling his twin to join him when he was done. This little girl was the 20th survivor they had found all over the country in the last three days. The biggest group had been found by Skyfire near Los Angeles the previous day. 8 peoples. All of them starved, dirty, more or less sick from exhaustion, fear, and utter hopelessness. 20 people in the entire United States. Of course, there was probably more peoples out there, but they were most likely hiding. Like they should... The Decepticons were still a threat, even if they'd been oddly quiet throughout this entire ordeal. Only some minor cases of pillaging deserted human facilities for energon.
Of course Megatron would take advantage of a deserted Earth to take all the energon he needed to refresh and rebuilt Cybertron, but doing so on the corpse of another civilization seemed wrong to most of the Autobots. Though, they couldn't just leave the Cons do whatever they wanted. The few remaining humans were the only hope they had to see the race flourish again in the future.
And for better or for worst, the Autobots were now the sole defenders of Earth, and they will fulfill this duty in the memory of the young yet promising civilization the Humanity was... and could still be someday.
Amongst the dead, a spark of life, the Autobot's spark.
-End of part one-
Next: The Decepticon's POV of the situation...