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Future Study

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Summary: The scientist wasn't even looking at her this time, instead he was staring at the slowly melting ice. "A few we froze as soon as they were created - for future study." Mikaela-Centered, Post-Transformers 2, Non-Cross

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Marvel Universe > Transformers > Non-BtVS/AtS StoriessmolderFR18812,8452207,02723 Feb 1322 Jan 14No

Chapter Eight: Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I believe "Transformers" belongs to Hasbro but I think Mikaela's character began in the Michael Bay Movies so *shrug* on the rights front.
A/N 1: Title is a song title by the band Cage the Elephant.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Chapter Eight: Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

It is the perfect day. She knows she’s grinning maniacally but there is open road in front of her and Bumblebee’s agreed to let her drive. She’s eased into it (just to tease them both a bit) but now they’re headed into numbers she’s pretty sure normal Camaro’s don’t ever hit. Sam’s got his head out the passenger’s window laughing and screaming at the sheer joy of speed. Bee is blasting “Eye of the Tiger” so loud she can feel the vibrations - and she can almost swear that she can sense his utter happiness all around her, even stronger then the music, seeping through the car's very frame.

Mikaela never wants it to end, wants the road, the song, the laughter, the joy, to keep her here forever.

The lights come on and with a suddenness that physically jolts her, and she squints against the brightness. The force of her current reality takes her breath away for a moment – but only for a moment – and then Mikaela is completely awake and busy soothing her four little ones. The dream is smoothly tucked away, with the ease of practice, deep within her mind, where it couldn’t bother her.

Because she kept hoping for rescue but a part of her (growing larger every day) didn’t expect it.

It just wasn’t quite built in her to be dependent on people, had never quite worked out well in her life when she did. So – sure, she daydreamed about a giant metal foot crashing through the wall. But, even in the first few days it felt like what it was, a dream.

Just a dream.

Girls like her didn’t get saved. They survived the here and now and buried deep – where it couldn’t hurt them as much - the hope that they’d see everyone again someday.

(And she was glad she did because that day would be a long time coming.)

They fell into a pattern of learning, playing, and re-charging (interspersed with her own eating and sanitary needs). She would read out loud to them (from her own books – taken so carefully from her trailer and placed upon the bookcase) and when their vocabulary increased started little word games she remembered from elementary school (Lovely was best at this and more than a bit smug about the fact).

And Mikaela was glad she had kept, at least a few of the books she had loved best as a child, because these had pictures. She was able to point to things – to tell her little baby bots, this is a dog, this is an apple, this is a house. To at least have basic images to go with the words and definitions.

There were no actual toys, but Mikaela improvised things to play with. Simply, balling up paper from a notebook and throwing it around became an easy favorite. And “tag” was always a classic (this was where the triplets outshown their older sister – whose long arms and shorter legs made “running” cumbersome. They were able to move much quicker, even curl up and roll if they wanted. Although that had ended with Bruce becoming tangled in the rug the first time it was attempted.)

Honestly, Mikaela really didn't know what else to do because after an incident early on, they pretty much started leaving them alone.

It had happened the morning after Clark accidentally exploded her lamp.

She is kneeling on the edge of her bed at the time, having pulled the glass-filled comforter off earlier and deposited in the floor, and is now examining the mark she found on the wall. It was right behind where her lamp once was - a small scorch mark. So tiny she would have missed it if she weren't specificallly searching for it.

But she frowns a bit because it doesn't go deeper (shouldn't it? Mikaela is very aware that she really doesn't know any of this for sure), didn't even crack a layer of this wall. And she doesn’t think Clark had any control of his strength – of what she thinks is probably a laser. She doesn't really want to test to see (especially not in this environment) if he can do it stronger though.

And that is when the door opens without warning – it is two armed men bringing her food. But her new dears certainly don't know that. And where Lovely’s first instinct seemed to always be to analyze a threat, Diana, Clark, and Bruce's appeared to be attack it. There is also the fact that these aren’t the same guards from before – they're alert, fast on there feet, and both armed with liquid nitrogen.

But she has been tense every time people enter here since her first day and that hasn’t stopped – if anything with the more sparks’ she responsible for it’s gotten worse. So they might be fast to grab at the nozel of their canister of liquid nitrogen when her little ones move towards them, but she is faster to propel herself off the bed – using surprise, momentum and body weight to hit the closest man as hard as she can, making him fall into his partner.

With all of their attention diverted by the bots, they hadn't been paying attention to her and that is why she was able to get the upper hand momentarily. After they untangle themselves though, she is easy enough to subdue by someone she can clearly tell has a lot of training (and experience by that jaded look).

But she can hear the bots trying to come to her and Mikaela can clearly see in her mind’s eye how this can all get very bad, very fast. “Get behind the bed,” she growls and it’s the first time she’s expressed anger towards them and they don't hesitate to follow her order, all scampering to do so immediately.

She tries desperately to get her mind to work then, to figure out how to get out of this with everyone in tact. Wonders wildly how it got to the point of her bodily pinned under a man with hard eyes and a gun trained on her, this fast. But finds herself barely caring about the presence of a firearm, her mind more preoccupied by the liquid nitrogen, has much more fear for the thought of any of her four frozen again.

And that is when she hears a click of a gun being cocked – and not from the one closest to her.

“Follet?” the man standing asks the one on top of her for direction, and his voice waivers a bit.

But knowledge seems to have settled into her brain immediately. “Let me up,” she says, looking right into brown eyes close to hers that were once unrelenting but are now uncertain. Mikaela is not going to let that opportunity go to waste. “You let me up and they’ll let you leave unharmed,” she says with utter surety, betting upon their fear of that which was different from them.

And it is tense for a few moments but then he nods sharply to her. “We're leaving,” is all he tells his partner. “Stay on the floor until the door closes,” is his order to her. Mikaela simply nods.

Once they are gone she closes her eyes, breathes deep for a few moments.

“Mikaela?” she hears called from the other side of the room, worried and anxious. Smiling and shaking her head then, she rolls to her feet and sees what spooked the men.

Diana it seems had transformed her arm and most of her shoulder into a rather large gun, held steady and sure at the door the men had just left out of, even as she looks up at Mikaela uncertainly. Glancing between her own limb and her caretaker as if she might have done something wrong.

So, that is her first order of business then, Mikaela is quick to dispel this needless worry. “Good girl,” she murmurs, praising the quiet bot, “you protected us.”

She walks over, pick her up, and holds her close, despite the weaponry. “Remember to be careful of this,” Mikaela touches the barrel gently in emphasis, and as if she has forgotten, it transforms back into an arm (internally she is fascinated – none of the others have shown any inclination to change so much although perhaps it is to early to tell. Bruce seems able to acquire more edges, Clark can produce lasers, and she thinks Lovely can processes and filters information. Her guess so far was that all of their alt forms were sedentary things, that they would always only choose to change bits and pieces of themselves because it was no fun to be something that did not move). “Just don't use it around us unless there's an emergency, alright?”

“Won't,” Diana chirps, snuggling closer. It tickles Mikaela how very tactile they all are, how much they love to hug and cuddle. She does not remember the Autobots being very much like this and thinks this is probably another thing they have picked up from her.

And after that -well, they tend to knock before they open the door to leave her food. Other than the necessities though (tolite paper, clean towels, and feminine products when the time comes), she is left alone with the four sentient robots. Constantly aware of cameras upon them, feeling like an itch between her shoulder blades when she thinks about it too often.

Days pass. Weeks. And she very purposefully doesn't count them. Wonders sometimes if there is something within the bots that tracks time automatically, but Mikaela never asks. It is easier not to miss things (Sam, Bee, the other Autobots, fuck just clean unfiltered air) when she doesn't know how long they have been gone from her. Easier to throw herself completely into caring for these beings who so very much depend upon her when she isn't thinking about what she would be doing at this very moment in time if she weren't here.

Sometimes she will contemplate escape but whenever she does, Mikaela only has to think of the soldier’s grip upon their weapons. Remember the thickness of the walls, she had observed, as she had walked passed that day with Lovely. Just look up into the blinking red eye of the ever watchful cameras and think of the people on the the other end – the rooms upon rooms of people. Picture Dr. Pratchett's blankly cold smile and empty eyes as he observed them, writing steadily upon that clipboard the whole time.

She would not get out alive – and definitely would not be able to leave this place with her four. And Mikaela wouldn't even make the attempt without them, would never leave Lovely, Diana, Bruce and Clark in this place to be possibly frozen again.

The End?

You have reached the end of "Future Study" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 22 Jan 14.

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