red_diode_district | Can't Run Away Forever

Can't Run Away Forever

She takes the bus now, more often than not.

She'd sold her old bike, dragged her dad off for a 'new start'; pretty much vanished off the grid for a while. Mikaela had done as much as she'd been allowed to do, to get away and keep from being found.

Keep from being found by her friends, at least.

A part of her - the bitter part - is sometimes upset that they never did. That they never tried, never suspected. But then again, the way she had broken up with Sam, real and so very angry...

That same bitter part, while upset, isn't surprised she'd been so easily forgotten.

And then Chicago had happened, freedom had come with a price for everyone, and...

Well. Being left alone was more understandable, after that.

So now Mikaela takes the bus, to and from her little backwoods, podunk gas station/convenience store/one-car garage quick-e-mart, the best she can get on just a highschool degree in this economy, expunged record or not. She does register and occasional garage work, and she has a good shot at making manager in the spring. Her dad has his own place, finally, moving in with a woman with little patience and no tolerance for his crap.

She's too good for him, and Mikaela is happy for them.

But being on her own leaves her with too much time to think, and despite no lack of offers, hints, and the same old innuendos, she's had no one since Sam. She's lonely, and alone in a world where no one remembers or cares who she is or what she's given up.

In short, it sucks, and playing at 'normal' isn't at all what it's cracked up to be.

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"...wait, what?"

Mikaela pauses, the core lump of the jagged ballistics shell clutched in a gloved hand. Pulling back, she gives Optimus a look.

"What else would it be?"

But her tone is one of dread rather than complete obliviousness. There are only a few options of what it really could be, and none of them are good.

This is as hard for Optimus to say as it is no doubt for Mikaela to hear. And now he looks back at her, down at her, expression grim and serious.

"In the years since Chicago, ever since the dissolution of NEST- I have begun to receive scattered reports of my people under attack."

A pause.

"Some of those reports have humans as the aggressors, but I had been uncertain to their accuracy until now."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

Mikaela chucks the scrapped shell down, where it lands unerringly in an empty oil pan with a clang. Waving a grime-covered hand, she twists in place, clinging to the side of Optimus' chest

"Too many things at once. NEST was dissolved? Why? Who's bright fucking idea was that? And which humans? Terrorists? Crazy fundies?"

Despite her precarious position, Mikaela manages to cock a leg up, the clean edge of a hand going to her hip.

"I still don't know what all happened with Chicago - they kinda classified a lot of the details about you guys and what went down after the blackout. Can you just...start at the beginning, maybe?"

He probably should have started at the beginning, anyway.

Optimus' optics flicker again- not from loss of power, but from refocusing upon Mikaela as he considers how to structure it. The hand that was at the ceiling comes down slowly, half-spotting her again. She seems steady, and he's feeling...

Not so much better as, perhaps, settled. He's not fully relaxed, but it's as close as he could be. Even with the uneasy subject matter.

"After you left...we were more focused on the Decepticon activity, then looking deeper in to why you had left." Not quite excuse, but they /were/ diverted. "In our efforts, we discovered that the government had been withholding information from us, of Cybertronian artifacts upon Earth- and its moon as well. We then discovered a mech whom I had thought long lost- my mentor, Sentinel Prime."

He has to pause here. This is...hard.

"Though we were at first overjoyed with Sentinel's addition to our ranks, we were being deceived. Sentinel betrayed us all, killing Ironhide, and used Chicago as a point to try and revive Cybertron at the cost of Earth."

Somehow, someway, his voice remains steady. Too steady.

"We stopped him, but the surrounding events shattered most of the trust between the government and the Autobots. NEST was dissolved soon after, and we lost contact with most of our individual allies."

Edited 2014-09-01 23:44 (UTC)

At this point, the mention of her departure and their lack of...focus...on it, is becoming more understandable. It doesn't please her, it never could, stomach twisting as her heart crawls up her throat- but it doesn't make her flinch.

But Mikaela is quick to forget her own issues as Optimus continues.

"The moon?" she asks, a little blankly, before everything just stops.

"-Ironhide?"

It comes out as a shocked cry, pliers dropping from nerveless fingers.

They'd survived the ship explosion, he should have been fine; nothing was supposed to happen to them after she left-!

And it is just a little too much. It really was good foresight that Optimus' hand is there, because her grip goes briefly slack with horror and the grease on her gloves- she slides down a good four feet of plating with a cry.

Edited 2014-09-02 00:24 (UTC)

He feels for her, he does. It must be a terrible shock. But while she's hearing about it- Optimus has lived through it, and only pauses long enough to ensure he's got her before continuing, in that quiet too-steady tone.

"Since then, we have scattered, tending to our own on our own. Sam is no longer in contact with Bumblebee, and Lennox..."

He exvents, hard.

"...William Lennox, as we understand, has been watching over his own and Epps' family after Epps disappeared. We could no longer keep them safe."

Or ourselves.

"Jesus-!"

Mikaela latches on to both Optimus' hand and the plating on his side, staring up with wide eyes.

"F-Fuck, fuck I'm fine, I'm fine just. Shit!"

Mikaela doesn't even notice that Optimus didn't ask if she was alright. Tugging off one of the gloves, she knuckles at her eyes, angry and upset and scared all at once.

Sam, she could almost understand, and is least concerned for. He'd been ready to ditch Bee and everyone else just for college. But if Epps had 'vanished'...

"Epps is dead too?"

Those soldiers wouldn't leave their own willingly. She knew that much about them.

Edited 2014-09-02 01:32 (UTC)

His face is bare, but there's a proverbial mask up. One that only allows for so much to come through; still, as he watches her so upset, his lips press together in the slightest of frowns.

"...we do not know."

He's kept himself from knowing. From being worried or concerned because he cannot afford to be. Not with his people on the run, their chances of escape slim to none; for all intents and purposes, they're trapped on a world that's turned upon them, and is now possinly hunting them.

The mask slips a bit more, and his optics flicker off.

"...I do not wish to put you in danger, despite your...unwilling exile. But..."

But it goes without saying that things have gotten very bad, as of late, and she may already have become a target if anyone finds out about this...

The non-answer makes her swear again, words muffled as she curls down between Optimus' hand and side, forehead bowed against metal.

It takes a long moment for her to process. All the times she'd imagined what it might be like to see everyone again, to find out what she'd missed...

Well. Mikaela had kind of hoped dealing with gossip about Sam's new girlfriend would be the worst of it.

Eventually, she snorts against blue paint.

"Ha, too late for that one."

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, roughly enough to leave her skin red.

"Been too late since I was seventeen, Optimus."

Despite the words, she gives the giant hand holding her as much of a squeeze as she can. Then Mikaela pulls back to climb back up Optimus' torso as steadily as she can manage.

"Like I said before, I didn't leave because I wanted to. If that hadn't of happened, I'd like to think I'd have been around until now."

A pause, hand freezing in midair.

"...Unless you got any more bombs to drop on me?"

His finger comes up, very lightly touching her back in whatever comfort it can offer in return. He sometimes forgets how young the species is; seventeen years is a blink of the eye for them, and yet in the past decade they've been on Earth things have gone from bad to hopeful to hopeless to victory to pain and he is tired of these ups and downs. They've tugged him and his in so many directions that he almost just wishes it would stop so that he wouldn't have to endure it anymore.

He's altogether not sure how much more he can take.

Optimus follows Mikaela with his hand, ensuring that if she loses her grip again...she'll still have something to catch her. Because the next bomb he drops is a quiet admission;

"When we find the means, we will be leaving Earth."

Being comforted by a finger as tall as she is never, ever gets old.

Even if she can't really enjoy it now.

"I..."

Again, her long-held imaginings are forced to shift. When she'd last been among everyone regularly, Earth was going to be their new home. A sanctuary for their giant friends and allies, and a rallying point for the long-lost Autobots.

Even that has changed.

"But the Xanthium-"

Blew up. When they find the means, pay attention, Banes. She goes quiet.

"...where will you go? I may have been in the dark, information-wise, but everyone saw- saw what happened to the planet in the sky. It was Cybertron, wasn't it?"

She remembers that moment, clear as the sunny day she stood in the parking lot of their crappy apartment complex, neighbors screaming and panicking all around as the world appeared in the sky, looming like Armageddon.

She'd known what it was, down in her gut, and wasn't sure if her screaming as it vanished in a writhing vortex was triumph or some sick sort of relieved grief as a world seemed to die, sparing theirs.

"Is gone."

No ships. No allies, no friends to ask who would be capable of delivering one to them. Their so-called new home has become a prison for them, one they can only hope to escape- soon.

As to where?

"...Sentinel Prime's attempts to revive Cybertron, as you saw, only ended in its absolute destruction."

We have no home.

Not even the remains of one.

And despite Optimus Prime's steady voice, with how he looks away once more, it's clear he is not unaffected by this knowledge- much less by having to impart such.

"...Optimus."

Mikaela doesn't know what to say. How could she? Their world was dead and who could really say 'I'm sorry about your planet' and have it mean much?

She climbs up to his shoulder, laying an open palm on an undamaged portion of chest plating.

"...I can't promise it will be alright. But I can promise I'll try and help it along. Somehow."

It does have him look back down at her, audials twitching slightly as he regards her form. Another might ask, demand how someone so small could even think they could help.

Optimus, knowing better, only nods in acknowledgement/acceptance and offers the faintest of smiles.

"You already have."

"Yeah, well..."

She grins and laughs, head ducking down with the beginnings of a pleased blush.

"Gonna try to do a little more than this."

Giving his plating another pat, she (carefully) climbs back down to the site of Optimus' wound, slipping her gloves back on to start again.

Pause.

"...After you figure out where I dropped my pliers. And hand me the shop vac? That would be awesome."

Thin smile still present, Optimus begins to lower his other hand from the ceiling- then pauses, smile fading. Her...pliers?

They're small. Smaller than her. How is he to?

And then she asks him to reach for the 'shop vac', an item with which he is only loosely familiar, and the semi-bewildered expression as he looks near him speaks for itself. The what?

No smaller than a spindly pair of glasses. She just hopes they didn't land inside his plating when she dropped them.

"...The shop vac? Vacuum?"

She stares up at him, head tilting, before she gestures down to the floor, where a yellow and black wet/dry vacuum cleaner sits nearby.

"Gotta get all the little pieces out somehow, right?"

"Ah."

Unfortunately, there is indeed too many little pieces for Optimus to tell offhand whether or not something's added to them- he can, at least, carefully reach for the (comparatively) tiny tool. Gingerly picking it up between thumb and forefinger, he manages to get it over to Mikaela without (as far as he can tell) damaging it.

"Ratchet always preferred his own devices."

While Mikaela certainly took to his lessons with ease, there's something to be said about the capabilities of different species...

"Yeah, well, Ratchet is lucky enough to come with in-built tools."

She laughs, before taking the offered pinched pliers with a 'thanks'. Watching Optimus' massive hands pick up such a comparatively tiny thing is absolutely fascinating, always has been.

Stupid giant robots, showing up out of the blue and reminding her how much she missed this.

"Even if I never saw him with a vacuum."

Mikaela carefully turns around on Optimus' frame, clinging tight, and gets back to prying out the remaining bits. It's getting to the point where she can see the source of the leak, and the torn cabling around it.

"Should have brought up some ducttape too." She snorted, trying to recall what types of materials had been on Ratchet's 'Cybertronian friendly' list for internal patching.

Duct tape's adhesive had a habit of gunking up the inner lines with open wounds; in minor tears, though, there were little to no ill effects.

Optimus reaches for the shop vac next, then pauses, suddenly more aware of Mikaela's presence. "Would it be easier for you if I laid down?" he asks, looking back over his shoulder.

Mikaela paused as well, before clanking her head against Optimus' side with a laugh.

"Huh. Why did't I think of that?"

The thought had never even crossed her mind. Weird. She pulled back, glancing around the garage to gauge the size of the place.

"Yeah, sure, if you don't mind? You'd probably have to keep your legs folded, but that would make it a lot easier."

"Perhaps as I had not offered." But familarity has returned, a little; Mikaela was hardly the most common of medics but he had gotten used to her, comfortable with her, and now once again he's trying to work with her. Shifting to follow the instruction, a somewhat sore Optimus eases himself down, half-propping himself up with his forearms at his sides.

The position allows him to keep optics on the other, and, indeed, to push himself up quickly if need be.

"Gotcha."

Staying up high and riding him on the way down, Mikaela steps off to gather up supplies as he settles.

She makes a face when she dumps the collection of scrap from her bag into a nearby box - she'll have to separate Cybertronian metals from more mundane metals later. Dragging over the shop vac, Mikaela also gathers up bigger pliers, a wrench, and scrounges up some electrical tape, which was, if she was remembering correctly, supposed to be better for the inner working, since it was more easily broken down by their self repair then gunky duct tape.

"Right then."

Turning back, she has a moment to hide her snicker at his inadvertently hilarious pose - it's not his fault the place is cramped, but he looks like he's sunning himself on a beach - Mikaela gets the hose.

"Let's see if this works."

Vac turning on with a quiet roar, Mikaela only has to climb up a few steps to reach the wound, easily slipping the nozzle inside the cracks.

Optimus almost misses her expression; he only catches the tail end of the reaction before she reaches for the hose, and wonders if he'd even seen it at all.

Mikaela certainly seems true to memory; despite his soreness, he does feel a bit better now that most of the smaller pieces have been removed. Once the others are eased away-

-urf.

He goes still, grimacing as what feels like tiny grains lash around the line as they're sucked by the hose. It's a far from pleasant feeling, but he'll endure.

Her grin widens at the sounds of scrap rattling down the hose - yes, she knew it!

"This is gonna be so much easier."

Repositioning herself a bit higher up, so she can better see where she is pointing the nozzle, she slides it down further, directly under the torn lines and shattered parts. She doesn't want to hurt him, but most of the broken bits have settled right under the blast site.

"Let me know if it's painful or anything!" she calls out over the dull roar.

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Trying to remember all the things she SHOULDN'T know is a pain lol

/pets

;3;

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