Crosshairs & The Girl - Crosshairs X Female Reader

Chapter 2 - Gathering

Why does it always have to be a big, damn show when the humans see us? It's a freakout and a realization that there is something beyond them and then it is passing through grief or whatever. I've never panicked when I've seen a new creature, not even a human. Hell, we look similar, anyways. We're just bigger...and shinier.

And prettier.

Well, humans are kinda pretty. But only certain ones. I thought the humans I hung around with where quite stunning, but every now and then I would see one that was kinda...rough. But that's kinda with us, too. Eh, whatever. We're all ugly and pretty and all that shit.

Anyways, back to what I was trying to describe. This girl, you, had come back to visit me after you had sprinted away, and she is eyeing me carefully from the nearby brush. I'm just sitting in a meadow, soaking in the wondrous sunlight pouring down from above. Ah, there's yellow flowers for miles as well. The humans are aware that we exist, but they still are cautious and scared and mind-blown when they meet one of us.

I mean, the Decepticons did wreck our species's reputation.

To hell with 'em all.

I hate the war, I hate my people...

And that's why I'm here. To make amends with myself and figure out what part of me is hurt. And I'm beginning to realize that it's everything. My joints...they hurt. Something keeps clicking in my side. And my spark. My poor, little spark. She's real hurt.

Dammit! Back to you! I can't even keep my thoughts on track! It's all screwed up and messy.

I slowly feel myself break apart, and the tall trees I am focusing my gaze on, studying their lengthy, leafy branches, start to warp as lubricant floods from my eyes. I am sitting on my rump, my legs pulled up to my faceted, green chest, and I gently shuffle my feet to rotate my trembling body away from you prowling about in the neighbouring forest. My head droops, and my brow gently taps my knees worn from endless falls from battles past. One of my fingers traces a particularly deep groove along the side of my right thigh; I got it from shrapnel of a bomb that killed one of my closest comrades.

I squint my eyes as my lips tremble and my emotions become exponentially more unstable. I enjoy to cry by myself, and I expected that I would have an abundance of space when I arrived on this little planet in the deepest, darkest reaches of space. It seems that I have a little friend that is tagging along on my journey through mental torture and healing.

I hear soft footsteps to my left, and I gently turn my head towards the disturbance. You are cautious as you venture around me, curious to discover who I am.

"You're...one of them," you call up.

I can't bare to hold it in any longer, and I lift my chin and stretch my mouth open wide as a horrendous, strained shriek fumbles out of my body. It starts deep in my belly, stirring up the storm, before shooting through my chest and barrelling up my throat and through my teeth. It's a grand release of the horrors I have witnesses and the pain of wartime experiences.

You don't shy away. You just watch with a neutral expression; you are just experiencing the mourning creature before her. I finish up my vicious scream and hang my head.

"Yeah...I'm one of them," I mutter.

You fix your hair before gently sitting down cross legged in the tall grass. You seem to sink out of sight. "Did it feel good to get that out?"

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

I remove the goggles from my forehead and mess around with them in my hands, watching the sunlight bounce off the blue and scarlet lenses. I can partially see my reflection.

"Do you have a name?"

"The hell?! Of course I have a name!"

I didn't intend to bark like that, but a primal aggression briefly overtook me. Again, you don't appear to be horribly repulsed by my behaviour. You stand up quickly, and the course plants around you flutter and dance as you move.

"Then what is it?"

"Crosshairs."

"I like that name. It's cool."

"Hell yeah it's cool."

I feel my t-cog rotate in my chest before my body reconstructs itself into its alternate mode, and I hastily drive away, leaving you submerged in a cloud of yellowish dust. I hear you sputter something as my engines roar and my cylinders pump, and I race towards the trees I was looking at a bit ago. As their shadows curve over me, I return to my original form and sit at the base of the trees. I can hear you yelling out in the distance as you walk towards me.

"I thought you good guys were the ones with the..."

You start drawing a vague shape in the air with your fingers, somewhat representing a square.

"...symbol! The bad guys are the ones with the..."

Your hands fly around in a triangular shape.

"...symbol! You got the good guy symbol on your back! I saw it! Good guys don't drive away and leave people choking in their dust."

"But I do, sweetheart!" I yell gruffly.

"Then you aren't that really good of a good guy are you, then?"

I shake my head as you stomp up to me, and I jump as you grab onto one of the metal plates that make up my trench coat. You are fascinated by the properties of my body, and your fingers gently stroke the surface as your eyes dart this way and that. I scoot to the side, pulling myself out of your hands.

"What are you doing here?"

I lick my lips and put my goggles back on my forehead. "To get away from everyone. So you ain't helpin'."

"Well, that's why I'm out here, too. I live there by myself."

You point to a small house that is resting on the side of a nearby mountain, and thick foliage shields most of the building from view. The glass windows shimmer.

"I saw your ship land and came to check it out. I've...I've always wanted to meet one of you guys."

"Well, congrats. You've done it." I roll my optics. "Is it what you imagined it would be like?"

"Kinda."

I look down at you and satirically raise my brow. "Really?"

"I didn't expect you all to be saints. You seem..."

"Self-centered."

"No, not necessarily. Just in need of help."

Again, I turn myself away from you, and I lay down on the itchy floor of the planet, some seeds and leaves flying up as my head hits the dirt. You run up to my face, now cockeyed and sideways, and you bend at the waist. I pull back a tad as your body swoops dangerously close to my optic.

"You got pretty eyes."