Finding Sunny

Chapter 38

She ran as fast as her legs would take her. Weaving back and forth from the shots sent by Kup. He doesn't need to run to keep up with her. His large steps make up for the distance between them. Running wasn't hard for her, she has the endurance for it. Though she isn't as fast as she used to be. Not being able to train or work out has done a number on her body. Then when she was captured by Megatron, she has yet to recover enough. But running from shots, is more of adrenaline than from actually wanting to run. Kup is getting closer. Each shot getting a little closer than the last. The twins were not wrong about him. He knows how to shoot. Now he is just toying with her as she weaves. She is not going to give in to him. So, she pushed herself to go faster.

"I don't know why your running. You're only making it easier for me." A throaty chuckle escaped from his vocal cords. She makes no attempt to look behind her. It doesn't matter, she knows he's there. His footsteps shake the ground as he goes after her. Dust flies around her as she runs on the gravel road. There is nothing for miles, just trees and fields. She grits her teeth together, her hands clench into tighter fists as she pushed herself even harder. Through the blasts going off around her, she noticed something in the distance. As it got closer, the more of them she saw. "Please be real." She whispered as she ran. They started to form shapes, cars, fancy cars, Autobots. She noticed one leading the pack. "He's back!" She let tears of joy leave her eyes and fly off her face. Before she can continue to celebrate, she tumbles to the ground. Kup finally get a shot in, just before the Autobots get to her.

*-----------------------*

A light shines through the fog, shining down on her. She lets out a low groan, rubbing her head. On her hand and knees, she looks around her. The fog distorting the area round her.

"Nichole" A disembodied voice calls out from above. She looks around, trying to find whoever said her name. "What the fuck? Where am I?" Her voice low, speaking to herself. "You are in between worlds." The same voice calls out again. Nichole's head whips around, trying to find it, but still sees nothing. "What do you want with me?" Nichole shouts through the fog. "You want answers, I can give you them." Everything seemed to go silent. The fog began to recede and a large cybertronian stood in front of her, light shining off his armor. "Who are you?" "That does not matter. We are not here for me. We are here for you." Nichole gave a huff at the mechs answer, she stood, brushing dust off her pants, then crosses her arms, looks up at the mech, eyebrows waiting for him to continue.

"You're an ancient wonder. There used to be millions of your kind. Before the great war, Cybertron used your kind to keep enemy's in line. Many different planets and species used your kind. To fight their battles. Your kind was born for war. To kill and destroy. You listened to orders without question and are very loyal. Once you find your place, nothing can stop you. You will fight for what's right in your eyes. Kill without mercy. Your skills are beyond your years. When one of you dies, their skills are transferred to new born child. Now that child has skills of the past generations and will learn its own along the way. At least that is how it used to be. Any born now are lucky to get that kind of knowledge. As your ancestors began to die out, it became harder and harder for transfers to be completed. Your kind was created in war, when war becomes a distant memory, there is no need for you anymore. Slowly less and less were around. Now every once in a millennium one is born. Very rare to say the least."

"But there is war now?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean your kind can just spring back to life. You're an endangered species. How can you make another one of you if there isn't a male to copulate with?"

"I'm a female. If I get pregnant isn't there a good chance my child would turn out to be like me?"

"You get pregnant, you die. That is how most skills are transferred. From mothers dying during child birth. The fathers would carry on raising the child. Other ways are from dying of old age and a baby is born from the ashes."