June Darby [Being Human AU] (Transformers: Prime)

Chapter Six | Check-Up

  "You can change the world again, instead of protecting yourself from it." 

~Julien Smith, The Flinch  

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Predaking watched from a distance as June was looked over by Shockwave. The femme had returned with an injured Megatron in tow, the warlord commanding she too be checked for injury before Knock Out forced the warlord to lay still on a medical berth so he could be repaired.

June merely laid down and rested with her helm between her paws. The femme, though clearly intelligent and capable of many things, seemed to refuse to elevate herself to a higher status. She was content to be pet and treated like a mere beast, though the Decepticons were clearly aware that she was incredibly intelligent. Though Predaking was treated with respect, hers was different; it was more a mutual understanding and appreciation rather than tense fear.

It was baffling.

"I see no external damage," Shockwave announced, not really speaking to anyone in particular. With some prompting June rolled over lazily, the Predacon femme regarding Shockwave with a slow blink. He checked that side as well, seeing a few shallow cuts, but nothing that would not heal within the next few hours. "How has she been behaving, Predaking?"

"Nothing has changed," the Predacon decided to voice his frustrations a little. "She seems to refuse to acknowledge that she could be more. I have attempted to prompt her to transform, but she merely reacts with hostility. It is not that she is incapable, or does not realize it - she is very much aware. But she simply does not do it."

"June will continue to do as she desires," Shockwave regarded his first subject with a curious gaze. "It would be logical to assume that she sees no reason for a bipedal mode. Predacons generally roamed in their . . . natural forms, correct?"

"Correct," Predaking acknowledged begrudgingly. "Though when we evolved, it was not uncommon to switch between modes."

Shockwave pet the top of her helm, pleased to receive a purr in return. "Has she given you a reason?"

"Our communication is minimal at best," Predaking muttered bitterly. "She does not seem to enjoy my presence."

"I see," the Decepticon scientist straightened, his optic regarding the Predacon for a silent moment. "I trust you will not cause trouble with her unattended?"

"Nothing that will be instigated by myself," Predaking promised. Shockwave accepted the answer, leaving them be. The lonely Predacon vented, reverting to his beast mode. Approaching the femme he laid across from her, their snouts far enough apart that there was plenty of breathing space; that was as close as she allowed him without a warning growl.

"Do you understand their language?" He growled his inquiry.

Her optics blinked lazily. "No. Their words . . . do not linger long enough to make sense."

The same answer as the first several times he had asked, and it still made no sense. The Predacon was not well versed with science like their creator, yet he thought it would be easy to decipher her confusing answers. Did they suppress more than her memories? Perhaps her intiative as well, to keep her tame?

"Do you care?" He attempted civility, suppressing the snap in his tone.

"Sometimes I wonder. And sometimes my mind is troubled by something. But the thought is fleeting, and I trust Master's judgement."  She tilted her helm. "You are different than I. You are like them."

"No. I have evolved to be like them." His optics brightened ever so slightly, this information sparking a new idea within him. Memories from his predecessor - imbedded directly into his CNA and contributing to his knowledge of Predacon culture - filtered to his consicousness. "There were few of us who were not quite evolved. They had yet to grasp the concept . . . Ripclaw was one of few femmes like this."

Her helm jerked a little, the reaction he had been looking for. His plating bristled a little, his helm rising and neck arching as he took in her frame.

"Ripclaw."

Her blue optics flashed briefly, but then narrowed. "The name . . . is familiar."

Predaking stood, feeling his spark and chest fill with warm, simmering rage. "As it should be. I must speak to the Creator."

June eyed him, not enjoying his sudden, brisk march to the door, returning to his bipedal mode and leaving her be. The femme merely curled up, shuttering her optics. Predaking confused her with his actions and his excessive desire to murder and destroy. A part of her suggested that perhaps she should be as ambitious as him, but the feeling faded almost immediately. There was nothing wrong with remaining calm and following Master's orders.

Her processor drifted, pulling on threads that she was already aware led to dead ends. By now the Predacon femme had realized that her memories were nonexistent past the point when she had first woken up, on that incredibly painful day. She had thought it was because she had been created then, and had not existed before such a time, but Predaking had slivers of memory from his predecessor, the CNA he carried within him containing such memories. It was odd, then, that she did not have the same. Sensations, yes, but not true memories like the Predacon before her. 

Predaking had said that he required the research of their species to fully understand what was going on, and using his bipedal mode had downloaded their language so that he may communicate with them. June had considered the notion, yet found it unnecessary. If Master wished to share something with her, he would.

Her plating bristled slightly. Master had nearly gotten himself killed with his arrogance. The others he had challenge vastly outnumbered him, and even with her they stood little chance of succeeding. As much as she wished to call him a fool he would learn from his mistake - he was certainly intelligent enough to do so without prompting. He did not need a femme to vocalize that for him.

Shuttering her optics, June allowed her sensitive audio receptors to pick up sounds from within the ship. She searched for Master's familiar pedesteps, knowing he would most certainly be paying her a visit the moment he was healed, and eagerly awaited his praise. Even when she disappointed him the tender tyrant only did enough to show her her place, to punish her as she deserved. More often than not, his servos stroked and touched the areas of her helm that brought her the most pleasure, the mech a quick learner and eager to reward. It was something that was unique to her - no one else, not even Predaking, had the pleasure of his affections like her.

It was endearing, and reassuring. They would be there for one another, reliable and steadfast. They could trust each other.

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Sorry if this chapter is a bit short, and a filler - I have two exams next week and am unsure if I will have time to post on my "usual" schedule. But now the ball is rolling just a little bit, so I hope the bit of action in the next chapter suffice. Please remember that this is an AU continuation and, in a sense, a short story with small parts to keep everything flowing smoothly without too much clutter. So if things seem to start moving super fast, I apologize, but this is not technically a standalone book, so the plot development starts in Being Human and continues/diverges in this work. 

That makes me sound so lazy.

BUT that is how I designed this book to work, so if it's disappointing or was not what you were expecting . . . sorry.