Transformers: Optimus Prime

Machinations

Rating: 17NC

Warning: May contain violence, peril and dark themes.


Summery: The decepticons have gone back into hiding. Sam wants a normal life. Optimus Prime adopts a small decepticon baby and the autobots believe that it is the beginnings of a seeded plot by Megatron.


This be my first Transformers fanfic! So be gentle! I am a fan, and have been for a long time! But I may improvise when it comes to terminology, how they work and their functions. I will try my best to keep them all in character and this story tales place after the second movie - so yes - this fic contains spoilers! So do not read if you haven't yet seen the films!

This story came to me on one single idea, then I built my story up around it. So I hope you enjoy this fanfiction!

BTW this story takes place one year after the second movie.


Chapter 1: A discovery


The world; Earth, had much to be learned from. Though Megatron had made it clear on many an occasion that the earthlings were nothing but insects on a worthless planet, Optimus saw with growing interest and empathy that mankind was resourceful, resilient and full of cunning. They had paved their own way for generations. Not long ago, Sam had told him a brief history of mankind. The wars. The eras. The overcoming of their own losses and the profitable gain of technology.

Though mankind were small and weak individually, as a whole they were powerful. Loyal. And above all, tactical and valorous.

There was a period on Earth when the decepticons retreated entirely into the mountains or hid away within the human world. Perhaps for a strategic regrouping or merely to plot, scheme or repair deep wounds. During this cold period, Optimus and the others spread out further across the globe; exploring. And making themselves more at home. All secretively to benefit mankind and to shy away from the spying optics of the enemy.

Optimus Prime, leader of the autobots, remained with Sam Witwicky more out of guardian loyalty. Sam pushed him to go and explore with the others. What Sam was really trying to say was; 'have fun. Try and do something else instead of fighting all the time.'

Truth was, Prime didn't know what else to do but fight, slay and defend. He had been doing it for so long, for so hard, that he had forgotten what else there was to do.

Sam was busy with his own life now. It was easy for a human to turn and say to another how to relax, turn from life's problems. Ignore due responsibility. It was as if they, as a species, saw it as an accolade for being protective but not for defending one's ulterior function. It was almost as though they found it - needless.

Only last night, Sam had ridden his old bike that he had kept from childhood and rode down to a sparse countryside with a disused bridge and a dried up lake. They met as often as they could. Discussing certain details. Information. But none of them had much to say until at last, Sam, annoyed said; "you worry too much. You and your autobots. Life's like a puzzle sometimes. You don't quite know when you'll get the piece that fit. So let the pieces fall where they may. Let destiny do its job."

"Sam – it isn't like that –"

"So you keep saying." The annoyance levels in his voice heightened. "Just let it go. Please. If you keep fighting – and find no peace in-between the mess and the chaos, then you are all truly war machines."

"We aren't Sam. We don't know what we're supposed to be. We're ageless. Timeless. We've lived on Cybertron for a millennia, yet somehow we don't know how it all started. What created us. And what our purpose is. Maybe that is the true thing that drives Megatron. He tries to hide this hole in our memory by creating purpose for himself and the future, even if it's the wrong path to choose."

"Why do you think Cybertron is so special anyway? And you autobots?" Sam, who had left his old bike that had seen better days resting by a stone pillar by the lee of the bridge, approached it with his hands wedged deeply in his pockets. To Optimus he suddenly looked a lot older. "We humans believe there's a purpose. But there isn't. We each have Gods. Destinies. Myths and legends. But we're merely life forms in the cosmos of space, right?"

Optimus stayed quiet. He didn't appreciate Sam getting sour on him or losing his patience. He just wanted the human to share some inkling to an understanding.

Sam rested his hand on the bike handle bars and a wry smile crossed his lips. But to Prime, it looked mocking in a childish way. "So your life's consumed by war and strife. I get it," he agreed without sounding like he did, "but when you die, do you really die and go to a heaven? An afterlife? Or do you just corrode and fall to rusty bits like this lifeless chrome bike in my hands?"

"Sam – please."

"No, Optimus. I'm sorry. Just – think about it. That's all I'm asking." And the boy leapt onto his bike as lithe as a puma and raced off back down the beaten track through the course countryside from whence he came.

Optimus Prime remained hidden under the deft shadows of a thick crop of oak trees that had been left to grow by the fringes of the abandoned field. "An afterlife." He didn't say it as a question. Merely a thought that run through his sensors.

Filled with self-doubt and even a touch of general self-loathing that slithered and oozed through his emotions and thoughts like loose electricity without a place or a purpose, Optimus drove in his alt-form through the forlorn country roads more to fill himself with an active purpose than to sit and do nothing. The other vehicles he passed were all unaffiliated and he sensed no life in them - neither autobots or decepticons.

Night fell and speckled the sky in stars that looked like lost jewels in the inky night-time heavens.

With his truck lights beaming out the way ahead in a flash of yellow incandesce that cut through the abominable darkness, he came to the outer reaches of a grotty, poor town. Used cola cans besotted the streets. Rubbish furred every patch of greenery to be seen.

A food outlet diverted his attention. Attracted by all the fancy purple lighting, noise and car activity, Optimus joined the queue of cars leading up to a fast food drive-through.

With no decepticons around - what does one do with oneself?

As the queue began to thin, he pulled up by the outlet. There was a window and a woman looking out gloomily at him from atop a sill. Beside her was a cash register and a box of change. "What will it be, sir?" She asked after at first getting no response from him.

Naturally, Optimus had already pulled out his human disguise. A holographic image of a man wearing a cowboy hat looked back out at her from his cab window.

Taking his hesitant silence as someone with poor deciding skills, she said at length; "we're doing a special today as it's Tuesday. You can get three diet colas for every box of Mc Wings purchased." A pale, white hand flicked her golden hair back while her blue eyes studied him with tedium.

If only she knew she was asking a robot alien from outer space.

"Ma'am, do you know where the nearest scarp yard is from here, please?"

She took his innocent question as a planned insult. "We don't do scrap yards here and I am not a guide for tourists!" She spat the words out at him as if he had just called her a whore.

"Sorry - it's just that I -"

"Do you want the Mc Wings or not?" She took another one of his pauses to jab a thumb at the exit in front where there was another outlet in the building for food pick-ups. The car behind beeped its horn, adding to the woman's frustration. He could clearly see the anger break out across her face like an egg exploding in a hot pan.

"Sorry for troubling you." He mumbled before engaging into first gear and pulling out of the drive-through.

Humans are so - impatient.

They never seemed to enjoy the world they were on and to see its simplicity. Maybe that was what happened when creatures had such short lives. They rushed it away even faster.

Snapping into a higher acceleration, Optimus raced down the country and out of town. Scrap yards were never far away. Everybody had or needed one. With the amount of cars people purchased - broke or dumped - there was bound to be one that accepted all dispensed and old cars.

Scrap yards had become a haunt for the autobot leader. Not only were they places to seek decepticons out where they might have been injured and gone into further hiding, but it was also a place to investigate manmade things. Use their tools to build other inventions, or simply a place to heal with no one watching. Because, late at night, scrap yards were one of the loneliest places in the world.

It wasn't until much later that Optimus had found what he was looking for. It was in the dead of night. A cold, icy wind snapped through the trees and screamed like singing banshees. The moon, bright and darkly foreboding despite its cool color, bathed the world below it in frosty cream and ghostly silver. The cars in the scrap yard gleamed brokenly under the moon's vigil spotlight. Tires, some smashed, lay like burnt giant donuts. Engines, pipes and wires lay twisted like intestines.

Optimus pulled into the scarp yard and crashed through the thick, heavy silence like a sledgehammer through porcelain. At once he unfolded out into his former state. No one was here to see. He was safe at last to be out of hiding in vehicle form.

Once his gears and parts had nestled away and fallen back into place, wheels and all, Optimus walked saliently across the muddied, tussled earth of a car rubbish pit. Scraps of metal were as abundant as the rats here. A long, yellow crane stood against the desolate night like an envoy to its human makers.

Like a child with something new to play with, Optimus at once embezzled himself to the heaps of scrap, iron and car carcasses with steel fascination. His powerful metal hands dug deep into soft car tissue and rummaged hard for anything of interest or even something of use to Ratchet. Steel plates were good to weld onto an open wound if it was not healing quick enough. Old TV sets that still worked often allowed them to watch soap operas or commercials. Keyboards were a revel of wires that could be used in an array of functions.

He heard something rattle behind him. He shuddered more out of anticipation than fear. He turned quickly, setting his optics on the mound of cars that were squashed into compact boxes behind him. His scanners picked up nothing threatening. Only a racoon as it dashed for safer cover. He smiled as he watched two youngsters follow it.

However, there would be no pivotal material tonight. The scrap yard, though quite big in itself, was really nothing more but a damp graveyard steaming with rotten cars, rusty engines and concrete fencing. Normally there'd be hard electrical equipment, appliances and tiny metal gems in a desert of crap.

He turned to leave, already planning ahead and thinking of which dirt lane to traverse and where to journey to next. Which post he should keep watch at or perhaps to return to base entirely and rest.

His scanners picked up something.

It was just at the edge of his vision. A blot on the map. Either way, the readings flared up and he couldn't ignore it. A warning flooded his whole system.

A decepticon.

Somewhere - in the remote scrap yard.

Stepping with more care, he scanned the cars laying around him like decapitated bodies amongst mountains of rubbish, fuel tanks and radios. His internal radar was screaming. Then - almost on top of the threat - he saw it. Or thought he did. A dark shape, a mechanical cocoon lay in the dark recesses of motor parts and wires. Intrigued, and not the least bit affronted or intimidated, simply because of the thing's small size, Optimus approached with the remotest of caution.

It was ball shaped and about the size of his palm. His readings clearly raged at him that this was an enemy. A decepticon; born and bred.

Maybe, however, it had come off of another robot; like an arm or part of a leg. And his readings were simply mistaking it for a threat.

Something within him urged him to leave it the hell alone. Go away. Go back to base. See Sam even. But not to touch it or go even ten feet near it.

Autobots shared an ample weakness akin with mankind.

Curiosity.

Optimus reached out a finger - and touched it.


Dib07: What do ya think? Update coming soon and i love reviews!