Chapter One: Rebels of the Sacred Heart
Chapter One: Rebels of the Sacred Heart
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 Flogging Molly.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
Mikaela swallowed hard awakening slowly, her mouth dry, her body feeling stiff and distant. Eventually she willed herself to open her eyes. The ceiling wasn't familiar to her – it wasn't her bedrooms, nor Sam's, or even the high grey support beams that she knew from waking up at the Autobot's base.
Slowly she turned her head scanning the room – and a shiver fell over her when she saw the camera in the far corner. She became fully awake in that instant, adrenaline flooding through her.
Not only had she been taken but she was being watched.
She scrabbled upright, off the bed, tripping in the blankets in her haste. She pressed herself into the opposite corner from the two doors in the room, her back hard against the plain wall and her eyes trained on the blinking red light. Only then did Mikaela very deliberately force herself to steady her breathing, her shaking, try to remember what happened.
She had just gotten in from work and had checked her messages finding a few from Sam. She had happily listened to his offer to come over that evening to hang out at the house with Bee and him. Perhaps a movie and a drive – it was what they usually did on Fridays and she had smiled feeling the stress bleeding off her. A night with her boys was just what she needed after the week she had had.
She texted Sam immediately that she was on her way and then began walking. The others chided her for walking through the parts of town that she did but Mikaela always brushed it off – she had grown up here, she knew how to handle herself.
So it was while she was strolling watchful, but not scared, past the familiar alleyways that she felt a prick at her neck, she had stopped and reached up – and had time to pull the dart out and look at it uncomprehendingly before blackness overtook her.
Now she reached up to the same spot feeling a bandage there. Not moving her eyes from a stare off she could never win she ripped it off, never flinching as it pulled at her skin. With a shaking hand she reached to touch the area – making this nightmare real in her mind.It had been a way she had walked dozens of times
Her daily movements were ridiculously easy to track for anyone who cared to try she realized now, her hand pressing harder against the small puncture wound where the dart had hit her neck – ignoring the pain. She wanted
the pain, it seemed to help clear out the drowsiness that was still trying to weigh down her brain – the drug probably she realized with another pang.
She had to wonder at the bandage though. It spoke of someone looking her over – for damage perhaps, but in this circumstance nothing felt that innocent. Her clothes where all still on (her torn up black jean jacket – covered in old oil stains despite multiple washings - over plain tee and blue jeans) but Mikaela was very aware from being amongst Autobots so often that most Cybertronian scans could be done without her knowledge - that was considered unethical of course but she figured kidnapping
probably was too.
And anyone who would go to all of this trouble of taking her so carefully would already know
about the Transformers - at least enough. Mikaela was acutely aware that outside of her connection to the giant autonomous alien robots all people saw was a pretty girl from the bad part of town. The only reason she got a second glance was to make sure she wasn't following the same path her father did….or to watch the sway of her hips.So they'll try and get information from me
, she concluded. That was alright. She had dealt with interrogation before and she would again. She held just as much loyalty for the Autobots as her father, they were much more her family than blood these days anyway - although she was positive they had no idea of the fact.Or maybe they're going to use me as a hostage
, a darker part of her whispered. And she fervently tried to squash even the thought of that. She hated the idea of being used to manipulate her friends in that way.
So caught in her morose thoughts and her death stare with the camera that it startled her badly when one of the doors opened.
"You woke up earlier than I thought you would, Mikaela," the man said smiling at her warmly. But there was something wrong with the smile, something missing. He looked normal enough brown hair scattered with grey and a slim build under the blue button up and long white coat.
He held his clipboard and watched her, and seemed perfectly happy to wait patiently for her to answer. He could wait forever than though because she had almost unconsciously shifted into a mode she knew well from when she was young. When you were trapped by an authority figure say as little as possible (if you knew information, it was dangerous - and if you didn't it wouldn't matter because they would never believe the car thief's daughter anyway) and keep your eyes and ears wide for any scrap they drop because it might be useful later.
What worried her most of all now though was how he was looking at her – not how she had learned to get used to men looking at her since she had hit puberty and not the way the cops did either. It was something else, something colder and distant.
As if a select amount of time had passed he just nodded and made a note, that easy smile still fixed on his face.
"I'm, Dr. Pratchett," he said. Again he waited but she refused to answer, unease curdling in her gut as another note was made at her lack of response.
"I," he continued, pointing to himself in obvious pride, "am the Head Researcher of the project you are to be a part of. You have no choice in this. But, I believed it polite that you be made aware now that no one will come for you. Your basic needs will be met and we will not harm you as long as you remain cooperative."
The smile had stayed and paired with his matter of fact tone, she fought not to be scared or at least not to show her fear of this man. She had faced much worse – she was almost sure she had.
"Do you have any questions?" he asked, ever patient teacher to unruly student.
Breaking her silence (and a small part of her hating herself for it) she whispered, "Why are you so sure they won't look for me?"
"Our teams were very thorough, Mikaela," he said condescendingly. After you failed to come last night Samuel will assume you blew him off. A few days later worry will set in but when he breaks into your trailer, he'll find are all of your things are gone and only a letter has been left. And no doubt who it is from either, our forgers know your handwriting thoroughly. It will be easy for him to accept – he never thought he was good enough for you," the smile looked malicious now but she refused to turn away, didn't care if there were tears blocking her vision.
All the good doctor
did though was tilt his head and make another notation, and she felt her fingers curl in anger.
"Any other questions?" Dr. Pratchett asked pleasantly.
"Yes," she said in a strong, even, tone that surprised herself. "What is this project?"
"Ah! Excellent question," he exclaimed sounding genuinely pleased. "It's best to start right away." Turning his head he looked into the camera Mikaela had been glaring at earlier. "Send it in," he stated.