Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Summary: Optimus returns from patrol late that night and finds Gira on top, and he discovers more of her bizarre, random behavior.
Rated: M overall for violence, some future gore, and sexual content.
**This chapter is rated between K+ and T for some sensitive material**
Transformers characters © Hasbro
Gira © Me
PART ONE: MYSTERIOUS
Chapter 9
It was a quiet, long journey back to the Blood Hall. Neither of the three spoke a word during the walk; Onslaught was on edge, preventing Hot Rod from aiding Subject G-1 whenever she fell or stumbled. He ordered her to get up herself, and when she didn’t he dragged her until she could get to her feet. Although Hot Rod saw no sign of pain on her face, he was still livid about the way G-1 was treated.
G-1 may be guilty of malicious crimes or murder and slaughter, but she did not deserve this kind of abuse. To Hot Rod, it just didn’t seem right. He clearly saw she was already suffering; why did the staff around here feel they need to add more?
“Onslaught, can I ask you something?” he said.
“What is it, kid?”
“Why do you treat G-1 so horrifically?”
“I already told you before,” Onslaught sighed. “G-1 is a monster and does not deserve any second chances if the thing loses control. Why do you ask?”
Hot Rod felt his cheek plate singe. “Because not too long ago, you told me you had sympathy for G-1,” he said, “and yet all I’ve seen you do is harass and abuse her like those scientists!”
Onslaught glared at him over his shoulder plate. “You watch your mouth; you aren’t granted permission to refer to subjects by their gender yet. And yes, I did say that.”
“So what made you change your mind?” Hot Rod asked.
“My mind hasn’t changed. I only feel sorry for the fragging creature because of its past. No one deserved to go through what G-1 did, but that monster has committed one of the most heinous crimes on your home planet, and that is why Subject G-1 is feared. It is mistreated so it remembers its place. And you had better remember yours, you stupid child, or The Boss will shoot you out into deep space through the shaft.”
Hot Rod fumed on the inside but hung his head. “Yes, sir,” he grumbled. He perked up when Subject G-1 stumbled and fell, and he went to help her once more—only to be dragged back by Onslaught. “Why won’t you let me at least help he—G-1, back up?” he asked.
“Like I keep telling you over and over again,” Onslaught retorted back. “The scoundrel does not deserve anyone’s sympathy.” He then nudged G-1 harshly with his foot. “Get up!” he barked at her. “Or else I’ll drag you the rest of the way by your throat!” G-1 struggled to her feet and used the wall for support, taking one tiny step after another. Hot Rod was thankful that G-1’s cell was not much further.
As they passed by, the other subjects hollered and howled, banging on the walls of their cells; when Hot Rod and Onslaught passed by, they went berserk, trying to maul them and break free to no avail, but whenever G-1 walked by, they were dead silent. They, too, must fear her. But Hot Rod, for some reason, found it a bit difficult to fear G-1, even after what happened in the laboratory with Driller and Scourge. He did not see her as a threat; she had not harmed him in any way. She thought of him as a friend.
Finally, they arrived at G-1’s dark, empty cell, where the chains laid on the floor, ready to conceal and trap the subject’s hands once more. Onslaught shoved G-1 in, knocking her down again, and then nudged Hot Rod. “Chain it up,” he grunted.
Hot Rod was a little surprised Onslaught was allowing him to chain G-1 back up inside of her cell. He knew he wouldn’t enjoy doing it because it only meant leaving Subject G-1 alone once more, but he had to do his job, no matter how cruel it seemed. He sighed, “Yes, sir,” and entered G-1’s cell, guiding her to the wall. He supported her against the wall and grabbed hold of one shackle at a time. But when he gripped G-1 around her wrists, she violently pulled away with a growl-like whimper. Onslaught told him G-1 did not like anyone touching her wrists because of the scars that decorated the armor plating and the protoform underneath she received from her past. Hot Rod understood and lifted her arms up by grabbing near her elbow joint. Then he slipped each hand into the shackle and locked it. Hot Rod was told that these chains had to conceal her hands; why they needed to was a mystery to him, but he dared not question it, remembering Onslaught’s advice about asking too many questions. He had to turn a knob ten times in order to tighten the shackle around her hands. As he started to turn the knob on each shackle, he wondered if the tightness of the shackles caused G-1 any pain. The thought of it made him sympathize for her. Then, when Onslaught was not paying attention, he turned the knobs three times instead of ten, stalling time by winding it and then unwinding it. When he finished chaining her up, he allowed her arms to hang limply as they were supported by the thick chain attached to the wall of her cell.
“Are you done in there, kid?” Onslaught grunted again and pulled Hot Rod out as he went in. Then he revealed a massive syringe filled with a white, pasty serum from his lower plating.
“What is that for, sir?” Hot Rod asked.
“It’s medicine for Subject G-1,” Onslaught explained; Hot Rod instantly caught the emphasis on the word medicine. “It makes the thing go to sleep. And I use it to collect an Energon sample.”
“What do you need a sample for?”
“For lab results, what do you think! It determines if anything unusual is wrong with G-1, and if anything is, we send it off to the lab for treatment.” There was emphasis on the word treatment as well. Then, Onslaught inserted the syringe into G-1’s neck; Hot Rod cringed and shivered as he watched it enter her plating. G-1 grunted weakly but did not move away. Onslaught injected the serum into G-1’s body, and once it was empty, he sucked up a decent amount of Energon from her, and removed the syringe. Instantly, Hot Rod noticed her becoming very drowsy and unfocused, but she appeared to be fighting to stay conscious. Then, Onslaught left the cell and closed the door with a slam.
Onslaught went to a monitor embedded into the wall within the Blood Hall. The monitor held data-files about each subject on that level, containing everything they know or knew, their health, and the crimes they were guilty of. It also scanned genetic samples from the subjects and detects if any changes have occurred. Onslaught squeezed out the sample onto a slide and placed it under the scanner; there was a red flash, a beep, and then nothing. After a moment, the results came up. “No change. The Boss will be pleased,” he sighed. “Better add this to the thing’s health file.”
Out of sheer boredom, Hot Rod watched him scroll through every single file within G-1’s data-files. Then there was one file that suddenly caught his attention. “Wait, sir, can you go back up for a moment?”
“Boy, I don’t have time to show you each and every single file about the fragging creature!” Onslaught spat.
“I know, sir, but I saw something interesting,” Hot Rod explained. “Please, go back up.” Onslaught grumbled in angry Cybertronian and did so until Hot Rod told him to stop. “That one, the third from the top.”
“The Allies file?” Onslaught asked. “Why would you want to look through there?”
“I just have this feeling,” Hot Rod answered innocently. Onslaught grumbled again and opened the file, and images popped up onto the screen. A few were of an old mech with long, white plating running down his face, some were of a medic, and many were of a young mech of red and blue armor. But taking a closer look, Hot Rod seemed to recognize those pictures. “Oh, my Primus...it’s him...!”
“Who in the slag are you referring to, kid?” Onslaught impatiently asked.
“That mech!” Hot Rod pointed. “I know him. And apparently so does G-1.”
“Really...”
“Yes. His name is Orion Pax,” Hot Rod elucidated. “Well, his name was Orion Pax—until he became a Prime. He sure seems happy in these images, and there are more of him than any of the other two.” Then something occurred to him. “Do you think it may be possible that Orion Pax is this Onny G-1 had spoken of over and over?”
Onslaught raised an optic ridge in thought. “It’s a possibility,” he said. “But G-1 has encountered many other individuals; these, however, were the main three because they had a positive outcome in its life. Many others are the reason why that thing is not entirely right up in the head.” Then he shut down the monitor. “Now come on,” he said. “It is time for our lunch break.”
Hot Rod sighed and started to follow him out, then glanced over his shoulder back at G-1’s cell. It was already quiet; perhaps she had succumbed to the medicine already. He hoped she would enjoy her sleep while it lasted before it was time for her next experimentation.
~~~
~Optimus’s POV~
I resume patrolling through the whole day, just as I had told Ratchet earlier before I left. I normally do not stay out this long, but the continuous absence of Megatron and the Decepticons has gotten me “paranoid” as the humans say, and I cannot allow any risks. By the time the sun sets and storm clouds start to roll through, I am exhausted and in need of refueling. I am ready to get off of my tires and onto my berth so that I may rest.
I comm. link Ratchet to send me a bridge, for I am too exhausted to drive the long journey back to base. When one arrives, I warily transform into my robotic form and walk through. The base seems much more quiet and calm than I anticipated. I had imagined the human children to still be here since they did not have school today, but they were not here, and neither were their guardians. The only one I see present is Ratchet at the groundbridge controls.
He must clearly see the exhaustion weighing down upon me, for when he first gets a glimpse at me, he smiles and chuckles. “You look like Primus used you as a stepping stool,” he teases, and I let him know I am in no mood for any humorous remarks by groaning with a glare. He gets the message, clears his throat, and resumes observing the monitor.
Although I am ready to recharge for days, I am rather curious of what went on while I was away; Ratchet also appears exhausted. “Well, Gira met Agent Fowler today when he stopped by for his progress report,” he explains when I ask him, “and there was a bit of an incident between her and Miko.”
“Incident?” I repeat.
“Yes. Gira supposedly made Miko knock down her tower of these cards humans use to play with, Miko got upset, and Gira made a scene. She had a bit of a meltdown, calling out for you.”
“Calling out for me?”
“Yes, she kept crying out for her—for you,” Ratchet pauses for a moment and corrects himself. “Oh, and we are down ten Energon cubes.”
“Ten?” I say, my optics widening a little. Before I asked, I think about the subject; I am positive the culprit would be Gira, since she is still recuperating and adjusting to everything that has happened. But ten Energon cubes? The poor thing must have been extremely low on reserves. And for her to call out for me while being so upset makes me feel a little guilty, knowing she had needed me and I was not there for her. Then a thought occurs to me. “Where has miss Gira gone? Is she still cooped up in her quarters?”
Ratchet sighs, shaking his head. “Last I or any of the others have seen, she went up top. Fowler unknowingly hurt her feelings and she raced to the elevator. And she still has not come down.”
I become worried. If she has been up there all day and anything has happened to her, none of the others would know. After remembering what happened this morning, I debate on whether I should speak with her or not. But a storm is approaching, and it would be wrong to leave her alone. I make up my mind and decide to try and persuade her into coming back inside. My berth will have to wait a little longer.
I head for the elevator and head up to the surface. When the hatch opens, I feel tiny droplets of water patter on my armor; it has started to rain. It is a gentle rainfall, but I worry it will become violent in a short while. Once the platform reaches the top, I spot Gira by the edge, hunched over and hugging herself. I stand there in silence, wondering what has she been doing up here. Then, I hear a faint voice over the wind, softly humming and mumbling words.
“...Born.....Born in pain, born into a life where.......I’m so lonely....”
Listening closely, I come to realize the voice is coming from Gira. I furrow my optic ridges; why would she say such words? What do they mean? I decide to take the risk, step off the platform, and walk up to her calmly so I do not frighten her. As I approach, she continues singing and humming the same sentence repeatedly while rocking slightly back and forth. I slowly kneel down behind her, keeping as silent as possible so I do not startle her, and reach out to lay a hand on her shoulder.
Gira suddenly stops singing, grabs hold of my finger and squeezes. I flinch, but try not to pull away. For such small hands, they have an impressive grip. She steadily turns her head in my direction, keeping it hung low as though she is hiding her face. “What are you doing...?” she asked; I easily pick up that suspenseful, deep tone of hers, the tone I’ve come to realize she uses when she is not herself, once again.
I blink as I recollect myself and relax. “I wanted to make sure you were alright,” I tell her, gently removing her hand from mine. “Ratchet informed me you have been up here all day. I understand you and Miko had a bit of a quarrel that made you quite upset. Are you alright?” She does not answer me, only glaring out at the desert. “Ratchet has also told me that you called out for me while you were so upset. I am sorry I was not there.” I continue to receive no response. I sigh and look up at the sky as the rain starts to pelt my armor and the ground with more force than earlier. “The storm is getting closer,” I say. “We better head inside. Even though the rain does not affect us like the humans, it is no pleasure getting soaked down to the protoform. So, we should head back inside. Gira?” She continues to ignore me; I begin to have doubts that she even heard a single word I had said.
Then she suddenly says, “I do not need you here. Just head back inside. Leave me alone...”
Despite her serious tone, I know it would be wrong of me to comply to her demand. I sigh and shake my head as I sit down. “If you continue to sit here, then so will I. I am not going to leave you here by yourself.” I notice Gira slightly gasp as she perks her head. Have I said something wrong, or something familiar? “Gira?”
She hangs her head in her lap, and I notice her fingers gripping her arms tightly. “How can you say that...If you claim to not remember...?” she says barely above a whisper.
“I do not understand...”
“You said that...word for word, once before...Yet you say you do not remember...”
I tilt my head as I frown a little; does she mean that I said the same sentence to her in the past? I do not see how. I do not remember her at all, but saying so might agitate her. But if I do not get my point across, she will continue to believe I am playing some sort of game with her. “I...I do not remember saying such a thing to you before,” I tell her. “I am getting tired of telling you this over and over again, yet you still refuse to accept it.”
Gira grips her helm and claws at the side of her head. “You’re so cruel, sometimes, Pax...” she whimpers. “Why do you insist on continuing to lie to me...?”
“It’s the truth—“
“NO IT’S NOT!!!!”
I jump a little as Gira’s screaming blends with the roar of thunder. That is the same tone of voice she used when I took her to the forest clearing.
The rain is coming down heavily now, making the open desert more difficult to see. I hear an odd sound emanate from her. She is growling while scratching at the sides of her helm. She sounds infuriated. I do not know what to do, nor how to convince her that I speak the truth. But I still will not leave her alone. “You may shout at me all you wish. I will not leave until you come inside with me.”
The growling ceases, slowly fading, and the clawing stops. Gira resumes hugging herself tightly, and she looks away. “You are wasting your time. I told you to leave me the frag alone,” she spits dully.
“Then I will waste time,” I say, and lower myself to be more at her level. “It would be wrong of me to leave you here alone when you claim to have been concealed from the outside world for some time.”
“You know nothing,” she growls at me, letting one arm drop at her side. “Now go away.”
I remain where I am and state firmly, “Gira I will not walk away until you come back inside with me—“ I immediately come to a halt when I feel a strong grip around one of my antennae. I cannot help but yelp and tense up.
“I warned you, didn’t I?” Gira says in a low, amused tone.
“G-Gira...” I stammer.
“You think I’d forget how sensitive and delicate your antennae are?” she says, and she speaks the truth. They have always been very sensitive since I was a sparkling. Whenever someone touches them, I feel violent shivers surge through my body; it feels tingly and painful simultaneously. I sometimes have a hard time speaking. How on Earth could she have known if I have never met her? The only one who knows about my sensitivity is Ratchet.
“Gira...m-my...a-a-antenna...l-l-let g-go...please...” I stutter, feeling my cheek plates burning.
She chuckles and starts slowly gliding her hand up and down gingerly. I fight a whine and bite my lip to prevent myself from moaning. “I would always do this so I could get what I want from you, or whenever you annoyed the frag out of me,” she explains. “As of now, both are in effect. Until you agree to quit bothering me and go, I will not let go.”
At this point my legs are weak and my arms can no longer support me. I lay on my chest and shiver with each stroke and squeeze Gira gives to my antenna. Despite the horrendous sensation surging through my body, I know not to give in to her demands.
She chuckles again, and I barely open my optics to see her smirk. “It’s funny,” she says teasingly, “how such a big, strong mech like you, who’s been in a war for many a millennia, is weakened by someone like me. You had strength in words and emotion, but never physical strength. I thought you were a Prime. I guess Primus made a mistake in choosing you. You’re still weak.”
I feel my spark cramp, but I do not surrender to her. What I have done to deserve this is still a mystery even now. As a Prime, I aid others who need it, and Gira is a wounded soul in need of desperate attention. When I first saw her inside of that pod, wounded and broken, I sensed a strong spirit decorated with scars. By looking at her, I knew she had endured great suffering. And how she obtained those injuries still remains a curiosity. And as a Prime, I do not give in easily to torments, nor torture. I believe the human saying is, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me, excluding the fact that I do not possess any bones.
After a while, she grunts and finally lets go. My strategy must have succeeded; she has given up, seeing that I will not do what she wants. But when she does let go I am fairly relieved, and even more exhausted than when I had arrived back to base. I pant as I feel my senses return and my body relaxes. I am rather confused on why my strength left me so suddenly. I had felt as though I could not move my own body, something held me down.
Gira walks by me and heads for the platform, standing there and folding her arms over her chest. “You coming or what?” she says, barely audible over the rain.
I slowly get to my feet and join her on the platform. We head down and the hatch above us closes, but the rain is still audible. Neither of us speak a word as we travel down to the ground level.
The door slides open, and we step off. Ratchet is still at the monitor, but he looks just as worn out as I am. He perks up at us and seems relieved to see Gira. She dismisses herself and walks off to her quarters without saying a word. I sigh and make my way to my quarters.
“How did it go?” he asks.
I stop in the doorway of my private quarters and exhale deeply. “It was...not as difficult as before,” I reply and enter my quarters. “Good night.”
~Ratchet’s POV~
I laugh a little and shake my head as I watch Optimus slump into his quarters. It has been a rough day for all of us, including myself. I can only wonder what went on up there between the two of them. I only pray to Primus things turn for the better instead of for the worst.
But there is always the chance of things taking a sharp turn. Gira’s sudden change in behavior, it can stir up anything. I have seen something like it before during the war, when Autobots had gone mad due to what they had seen in battle. But Gira’s case is unique. It is not an actual war she is struggling with, but a war within herself. She is fighting herself because of what she had seen, what she had endured where she came from. She is struggling to adapt to what is around her because she is so used to whatever happened to her. And yet she acts like a child one moment and a selfish fragger the next. I still hold a grudge against her for calling he decrepit. But every night, I expect her to start screaming because of a nightmare or seeing the demons of her past in the shadows of her quarters.
I know the others do not understand her. No one does straightaway. Gira is the kind of femme hard to keep up with whenever there is a change in personality. She is certainly unpredictable as Arcee stated. But I see a bomb waiting to go off inside of her. And my biggest concern is when it goes off.
A/N: so, Hot Rod knows Orion Pax, Gira acts weird again, and does Ratchet know something the others don’t? Well you’ll have to keep reading to find out. And what do you think the bomb is Ratchet referred to? Please be sure to read and review! Thanks ~
