What the Doctor Ordered

Star Saber stood alone on the observation deck. Cyclonus' cruiser was high above the clouds, sheathed in a cloaking field that hid it from all human sensors and most conventional Cybertronian ones. It was standard practice while being in Earth's atmosphere.

Cyclonus stepped through the door, seeing Star Saber with his back turned, his gaze set towards what lay through the thick window ahead. The room itself was fairly large, dome-shaped and nestled upon the top of the ship's rear. A weak-point, Cyclonus figured, one he had been yet to rectify. Compared to his personal transport, his far larger cruiser was still very much factory issue. The shipyards at Omicron Delta IX had put this one together, shortly before they had been destroyed in an Autobot raid. It was a large ship, capable of sustaining two hundred Decepticons with room to spare. Granted, there were perhaps seventy on board, including himself. Star Saber made for one of three Autobots currently residing here, with the other two inhabiting a pair of prison cells down in the lower decks. Star Saber, on the other hand, was practically a Commander here. Second-in-command, Cyclonus reminded himself. As much as Star Saber wanted to think he was in complete control, there was still a chain of command. A Decepticon chain of command, one that no religious zealot and Autobot would ever be able to disrupt to any significant extent.

"Star Saber," Cyclonus said.

"What is it, General?" Star Saber did not turn around. Apparently the white clouds outside, and the blue sky around them, was a far more interesting sight.

"As you are my second-in-command here, I feel it best to notify you that the human known as 'Colonel Carver' refuses to hand over the Seal, even after the assistance we provided his cause."

Star Saber was silent for a moment. Cyclonus sometimes felt ill-at-ease around this Autobot, a feeling he knew he should not have, yet it was one he could not shake. He was a General, a warrior who had been fighting in wars of some sort for most of his existence. He had faced down entire armies without so much as a tingle of doubt or fear, yet this Autobot unnerved him. Sometimes he wondered why he had ever agreed to help him, to form this 'alliance'. The opportunity to kill him had long passed, as his death would only lead to rebellion and chaos amongst the troops. Too many of them liked him, too many of them followed his teachings. So, for now it appeared that Cyclonus would have to tolerate Star Saber's presence.

"This is because his cause is not yet through," Star Saber said. Cyclonus stepped towards him, stopping to his right. "Were it not for the item he held over us, we would have simply killed him right away. And, even now, once we ascertain the item's location, we will take it from him, regardless of his wishes."

"A foregone conclusion, Star Saber," Cyclonus said. "I already have others working to locate the Seal. However, you have only provided the sparsest of details regarding its powers..."

"I have told you what you need to know, General," Star Saber interrupted. He turned his head, his blue optics narrowing as he eyed Cyclonus carefully. "Surely, you yourself would not reveal all if it was not necessary?"

"No, I would not." Trust was one thing that was lacking between them. Even so, Cyclonus wanted to know and he had been attempting to find out through other means. Not that he had had much luck so far. Star Saber was a means to an end, a way to get the powerful relic and retake Cybertron, maybe even conquer Earth while he was at it. Star Saber, on the other hand, saw him in a similar light, this Cyclonus had no doubt of: however, Star Saber's actual plans when he finally acquired the Seal of Nova Prime were known only to the Autobot pontiff.

"Then you must understand my position," Star Saber said. "Normally, I would not lower myself to working with Decepticons, but times change, often for the worse."

"You have said as much, repeatedly, during your sermons." Cyclonus had a thick finish; a few thinly-veiled insults were nothing to him. Unlike Megatron, who's temper would often explode at the slightest provocation.

"Though your Decepticons are of a different breed to most, General," Star Saber added. "For one, they are very open to my teachings. They believe that our race can be greater than it is, that we deserve to return to our former glory before the war, and the degenerates who caused it, brought us down, should be punished."

Cyclonus let out a subdued sigh. He's going to start sermonizing again, isn't he?

"I have very few Vehicons," Cyclonus said. Maybe he could prevent the incoming lecture by altering the subject of conversation? "That may be why. My soldiers are full-blooded Decepticons, through-and-through. There is no room for useless drones in my forces."

Star Saber nodded in acknowledgement of this. He seemed pleased, although his face was impossible to read underneath the plate he wore over its lower half.

"It was the lack of faith and moral degradation it caused that brought our civilisation to ruin," Star Saber continued. "Even from my research on Earth, I can see that it has happened numerous times throughout their history. And I believe that this Colonel Carver feels that it is happening again, hence why he intends to found his new world order."

"And do you want a 'new world order' for Cybertron, Star Saber?" Cyclonus had a feeling that he already knew the answer.

"I want an order based upon the foundation of faith, the same faith that carried our race through the Golden Age," Star Saber replied. "Is that not what you want, General? A new Golden Age for Cybertron?"

"I want the Autobots under my yoke," Cyclonus replied. "Save for you, of course. There is room for faith on my Cybertron."

"But there can be no room for non-believers," Star Saber countered. His tone carried a hint of something sinister, either that or he was simply unhinged. Cyclonus figured it was both, as the Autobot had always struck him as a bit 'odd'. As if not everything was there mentally. Or maybe everything was there, just in a way completely different to most of the other Autobots Cyclonus had encountered? "No room for atheists, agnostics, heretics. They would all have to be purged."

"That might include myself," Cyclonus said. Star Saber would have no qualms about killing him. He was expecting the Autobot to try it once they had the Seal in their possession. It was why Cyclonus fully intended to kill Star Saber first, once he had the Seal in his possession. "I do not go to your sermons, Star Saber. And I do not follow your beliefs. Faith has its place in society, but it should not be forced upon those who do not want it."

"Our species had its chance to prove that," Star Saber said. "They squandered it. Our world was ruined as a result. Sometimes, the masses need to be told how to live. They need to be made to live in the ways those above them see fit, for the good of the whole." Star Saber tilted his head slightly, as if bemused by Cyclonus' somewhat more moderate stance on the matter. "Why allow the cycle to continue? Tradition must be maintained, if our civilisation is to last."

"Nothing lasts forever," Cyclonus replied. "Our thoughts, our dreams, are ours, but their ends are none of our own. Even less so when put into practice."

"I intend to shape my own destiny," Star Saber stated. "You would do well to do the same. Only a fool leaves things to chance."

"No fool would lead a battalion of Decepticons." Cyclonus frowned. Sometimes Star Saber's thinly-veiled insults did get tiresome. "And no General would ever become so confident as to believe he has prepared for absolutely everything. You do not honestly believe you have accounted for every possibility, in whatever grand scheme you have set in your mind? Such a thing is impossible."

Was that a hint of uncertainty on Star Saber's features? It was hard to tell. Of all the Cybertronians Cyclonus knew, Star Saber was the best at hiding what he felt. His face was very much an expressionless mask most of the time, with only his optics giving any indication of any emotions he might have been experiencing.

"Whatever problem is keeping the humans from handing us the Seal, I want it dealt with," Star Saber said. "And I hope I can rely on you to do so." The doubt had disappeared from his face, replaced by his usual stoic appearance. Cyclonus nodded, keeping a straight face even with the amusing idea that had been formulating in his mind. He would have to tread carefully, even more so than he already had been. There were a few questions nagging at him, though. He supposed now was as good a time as any to ask them.

"I am curious, Star Saber," Cyclonus said. "You often teach from the Book of Nova Prime. That was not part of the official church canon, was it not?"

Star Saber raised one eyebrow ridge ever so slightly.

"I have adopted the teachings from that text and merged it with standard church practice," the Autobot replied. "Why?"

"Was it not once considered heretical?"

"Only by the liberal scholars who took charge a short time prior to the war, most of whom disagreed with some of the messages contained within the text," Star Saber explained. "I have simply readopted it."

"The church declared it non-canon," Cyclonus said. "Apocrypha."

"And they were wrong to do so," Star Saber stated. "Why, General? Why do you ask these questions?"

"Curiosity, nothing more." Cyclonus nodded slowly. His suspicions concerning Star Saber's teachings had been affirmed. Star Saber was probably the worst kind of fundamentalist he could have ever allied himself with. All the more worrisome was how his words were drawing in more and more of the soldiers. Something would give eventually and either he, or Star Saber, would wind up dead. All the more reason for the Decepticon General to get the Seal of Nova Prime before he did. Even if he did not know exactly what the relic did, simply having it in his possession would give him an edge over Star Saber. As helpful as the Autobot had been, he was becoming too influential, too much of a potential threat lay with him.

"I will return to my work," Cyclonus said. "Always a pleasure talking with you, Star Saber. No matter the subject." He smiled at him, bearing his jagged metal teeth. Star Saber returned his gaze to the clouds beyond the window ahead. Cyclonus turned around and walked out of the room then, passing by Vortex who was walking in the opposite direction. The broad-shouldered Combaticon saluted him as he went by. Cyclonus simply nodded in acknowledgement, yet deep down knew he could not entirely trust him anymore. Vortex had fallen very much under Star Saber's spell, as had many of the soldiers on board. He would have to get hold of the Seal himself somehow, if he was to be sure of it not getting to Star Saber. There were soldiers who had not fallen under the Autobot preacher's sway, he was sure of this, he would only have to find them.

---------------------------------

His entire form was wracked with varying levels of pain. The veins that carried energon through his body burned ferociously. Even after all these hours, most spent fading in and out of consciousness, Bumblebee was still under the influence of unstable synthetic energon. By now, the high he had felt had instead been replaced with weariness. Withdrawal was kicking in and he was not unconscious anymore, so he could not avoid it.

Anger, frustration, despair; so many emotions ran through him. He had been locked into a rather dingy cell in some lower section of the ship, separated from Knock Out. And thinking of the former Decepticon doctor only angered him some more. He had not wanted to hurt him, yet when he had been placed in that 'arena' with only Knock Out within reach he had not been able to control the rage that had been rushing through him. He had wanted to lash out at whoever was in reach and Knock Out had been unfortunate enough to be the one closest to him. He figured it was understandable that Knock Out had torn his right forearm away, not that Bumblebee had wanted to keep the rudimentary bladed replacement. He would have to make do with his stump, one that had so far had whatever energon leaks it had sealed up with a basic patchwork of welded metal plating. The Decepticon doctor who had shot him full of synthetic energon had been kind enough to stop the leaks, an act that was a very clear indication that he had further plans for the Autobot. Bumblebee, however, had no desire to stay here any longer than he had to. And he was well beyond the point of "having to stay". Escaping from cells was not something he was new to, although in past situations he had had a clear mind. With the after-effects of synthetic energon to deal with, he was finding it difficult to think straight. Instead, he felt as if the walls were gradually closing in on him. He sat against the back wall, trying to keep his gaze away from the seemingly constricting surroundings, looking at the floor and the imperfect metal surface, marred with scrapes and scratches.

The longer he looked towards them, the more they seemed to shift. Some of them bent slowly yet visibly right before his eyes. Others seemed to increase in width and length. Bumblebee realised that he was seeing things, not that it made the experience any less unsettling.

Bumblebee stood up and made his way over to the sealed metal door. He thumped his one fist against it, shouting out to whoever may have been in the corridor beyond.

"I need to get out of here!" Somehow he doubted that the Decepticons would oblige his request. "I'm going crazy in here!"

"Shut up!" A gruff voice shouted from the corridor outside. Bumblebee fell silent, if only for a moment.

"I need more of the synth-en," Bumblebee said, leaning close to the door. "You tell the doctor that I need more." He noticed then that his left hand was shaking. He planted it firmly against the door in an effort to stop it, though the action only resulted in the rest of his left arm shaking instead. He knew he looked like a mess, but he also felt like one too. If he saw that Decepticon doctor again, he would kill him.

"Bumblebee?" A familiar voice filtered through a grating on the wall to his left. Bumblebee stepped over, unable to quite see who was standing on the other side. Nonetheless, he leaned forwards, straining his optics to get a better look at who was there. A flash of red optics told him who it was and he would have smiled, were he not in such a sorry state.

"Knock Out?" Bumblebee felt a wave of regret as soon as he said this. He hung his head low and shook it slowly, not that Knock Out would have been able to see him. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier."

"You weren't yourself," Knock Out replied. His voice was somewhat muffled through the thick grating. Bumblebee could not work his fingers through the tiny gaps, nor could he find any give along the panel's edges. It was unsurprising, considering if ripping off a single grating could get one out of a cell like this, then it would not have made it a very good prison cell. "And I think I did my fair share of damage to you."

"How long have we been locked up?" Bumblebee certainly could not remember. Time was something he had lost track of completely, especially when under the influence of the synthetic-energon. There were no windows, no clocks, nothing here that gave him any sort of indication about what time of day it was. Were they even on Earth anymore? The Decepticons probably had plans for Earth. Cyclonus likely would not leave, unless his plan all along had been to take the two of them hostage.

"Too long," Knock Out replied. "Twelve hours, maybe. I can't be certain."

"When I was captured, they put me in the medical bay here." Bumblebee remembered his experiences in there quite vividly, even through the withdrawal from the synthetic energon. "An Autobot came in."

"An Autobot?" Knock Out sounded surprised, understandably.

"He called himself Star Saber. A religious sort, zealous and self-righteous." Bumblebee closed his optics for a moment then. They had inflicted a lot of pain upon him during his stay in the medical bay. He still bore the wounds at his chest where plating had been either cut away or ripped off. "He wanted to 'convince' me to turn to his cause. Something about returning Cybertron to its former glory."

"I take it he wasn't successful?"

"Why do you think they shot me full of synthetic energon?" Bumblebee opened his optics. The question hung in the air for a moment as he considered what else to add. "He probably didn't bother with you, because..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Knock Out seemed to grasp the implications.

"Because of what? That I'm a 'coward'? That I'm not an Autobot?" Knock Out sounded despondent. "I guess being a Decepticon doctor turncoat has its advantages."

"Cyclonus is working with Star Saber," Bumblebee said. "That much I know. I doubt they get along too well, it's probably more of a necessity than a willing alliance. But whatever's going on, we have to get out of here. We have to find Magnus and the others."

Knock Out huffed audibly from the other side of the grating. Bumblebee leaned his good arm against the wall, his legs suddenly feeling weak underneath him. It lasted only for a moment, yet even so he had to lean upon the wall for a while longer. His body was not in the best state and the longer he remained standing the weaker his legs began to feel.

"I don't know if you know this, Bumblebee, but we're not in much of a position to find Magnus, or any other allies for that matter." Knock Out's sarcasm was obvious and, Bumblebee thought, definitely not needed. "Unless you have a way out of these cells that I don't know about?"

"I'll think of something," he replied. Even he had his doubts about this, as he was having enough trouble retaining a clear head. He felt like throwing himself against the door, again and again, until it either opened or he was reduced to a quivering pile on the floor. Common sense won out in regards to this thought and he opted against such an action.

"Well, tell me when you've finally thought of 'something'," Knock Out replied. "I'm going to stay right over here, counting the holes in this grating."

The door to Bumblebee's cell slid open then, a metallic groaning noise sounding out as it moved, its moorings likely rusted in places. Two Decepticons stood behind it, including the immediately recognizable 'Doctor' who had been the one to pump Bumblebee full of synthetic energon. He was accompanied by a broad-shouldered guard, tall and bulky, with a fusion shotgun clutched in his hands. The barrel was pointed straight at Bumblebee. As for the doctor, he wielded a Cybertronian pain-stick. It was a simple long metal staff with two prongs at one end with white energy streaking between them.

"Who is it, Bumblebee?" Knock Out asked through the grating. "What do they want?"

Bumblebee looked at the guard and then the shotgun, weighing his options.

"Stay right there, scout," the Decepticon guard said.

"What is it now?" Bumblebee asked. His anger flared, partially because of the synthetic energon withdrawal. There was not a lot of room for him to move about in this cell, although that would work both ways.

"The General granted my request for a lab specimen," the doctor replied. He gave an unnerving smile. "He doesn't need you, or your traitorous friend." He motioned to the guard to step forward and grab him. Bumblebee held his arms up, or at least his one arm and his one stump. This Decepticon guard was tall, almost as tall as the cell's ceiling. He certainly made for an imposing enemy.

The doctor lunged forwards then, planting the pain-stick against the centre of Bumblebee's chest. Energy shot across the Autobot's form and he let out an involuntary yelp, his limbs contracting against him as he fell to his knees. The Decepticon guard put the shotgun aside, using its magnetic clip to stick it against his back. With both arms out, he grabbed Bumblebee by either side before punching him square across the right half of his face.

Bumblebee's head snapped back and yet more pain shot down his neck. The ceiling above him seemed to wobble as the blow landed him in a brief daze. The guard grabbed him by one leg and started to drag him out of the cell, his frame noisily scraping against the metal floor. The agony that had been caused by the pain-stick quickly receded and he found he was once again able to control his movements. Behind him, the Decepticon doctor followed, the pain-stick hovering uncomfortably close to the Autobot's head. They passed by another locked cell in the dank metal corridor. A clanging noise emanated from the other side as Knock Out slammed both hands against it.

"Where are you taking him?" He shouted. There was another Decepticon guard standing near the door and he thumped on it in return.

"Shut up!" He barked.

Bumblebee's gaze went back to the doctor walking behind him, the pain-stick hanging ever-so-close to his head. The corridor was fairly empty other than the guard by Knock Out's cell door, so even now, through the pain and the unstable emotions that buzzed around in his head from the withdrawal, Bumblebee was trying to think of some sort of plan of action. There was an opportunity here, he just knew it.

His one good arm went for the doctor's right leg, clutching it suddenly. He pulled, taking the doctor's legs out from underneath him. Letting him fall, the pain-stick fell from his grasp and landed nearby. Still clutched by the Decepticon guard, Bumblebee reached for the pain-stick and grabbed it. Before the guard could turn around to respond to his movements, Bumblebee had plunged the business end of the stick into the Decepticon guard's lower back. He let out a shout and fell forwards, his grip on Bumblebee's leg loosening. The Autobot warrior was quick to jump back onto his feet, his spark pounding within his chest. He laid optics upon the Decepticon doctor, who was only just starting to rise back up.

Bumblebee pounced on him, placing the end of the pain-stick against his neck. He held it there, even as the doctor began to spasm uncontrollably beneath him. Finally, he pulled the stick away, his optics wide as the remnants of the synthetic energon burned through him. This 'doctor' had been the one to torture him and fill him full of the synth-en. For all that time Bumblebee had been at his mercy, the Autobot felt the desire to return the favour in kind. However, for all the ferocity the synthetic energon gave him, it did give him more time to act. The guard ahead was rising back onto his feet and the one further back down the hall had turned to look towards the commotion, one arm shifting into a plasma blaster. Bumblebee instead decided on his next course of action as he took up the pain-stick in his one hand. He forced it into the doctor's open mouth, plunging it past his metal teeth and through the back of his head, pinning him to the floor. He began to scream as the energy ate away at the inside of his helm, blue bolts of it shooting across his mouth and up through his optics.

A moment later, both of his optics exploded, blue flames erupting from within the sockets. His screams stopped and Bumblebee, his arm shaking, stood up and turned his attention to the stunned guard. He saw the other one back down the hall was racing towards him, arm cannon raised. Bumblebee grabbed the burly guard near him and hoisted him back onto his feet, his one arm clenched tightly around his neck. Holding him in front, the other guard started shooting, striking his friend in the chest with a few red bolts of energy. Bumblebee yanked the fusion shotgun off of the wounded Decepticon's back and placed it across one of the guard's shoulders, pulling the trigger. Several searing armour-piercing projectiles exploded out of the shotgun's barrel, travelling the length of the corridor in a split-second. They struck the front of the approaching Decepticon guard, punching several small holes through his chest armour. He stumbled, energon fluid dribbling down his front, leaving numerous glowing blue streaks across his black and purple finish. Bumblebee fired again, this time sending several flechettes into the guard's face. Most of it was torn away by the force of the impact, leaving half a face and several wires dangling out of the smouldering mess. The guard fell to the side, clanked loudly upon a wall and then slumped down upon it, ending up on the floor as a motionless heap.

The guard Bumblebee had been clutching in front of him, his stump of an arm firmly pressed against his chest, was still alive. Bumblebee kicked him away with one leg, letting him stumble forwards. He turned around, clutching at his wounds with his hands, swaying unevenly on his feet.

"Where's the ground-bridge on this ship?" Bumblebee demanded. He pointed the shotgun straight at him.

"I ain't telling you a damn thing," the Decepticon replied. Bumblebee did not hesitate to fire, his aim just slightly off centre, an intentional act on his part. The Decepticon's left arm was sheared clear off of his shoulder by the armour piercing flechettes. He screamed, falling to his knees as his one remaining hand went to the jagged stump. Blue energon fluid spurted out like a geyser.

"Wrong answer," Bumblebee said. He clenched his jaw, his green tinged optics wide as he planted the barrel against the Decepticon's forehead. "I've been having a very bad day, so don't test me." It was more the withdrawal frenzy that was talking now, though his reasoning skills kicked in just enough to stop him from simply pulling the trigger there and then.

"Deck sixteen," the Decepticon guard replied, hanging his head low. "There's an elevator, just follow the corridor behind you."

He looked up again, eyeing the shotgun Bumblebee had levelled in his face. The Autobot seriously considered executing him there and then. Had he still been on the high he had been earlier, he would have done it already. Yet even through the anger the withdrawal was giving him, he still managed to allay his finger from the trigger. Instead, he spun the weapon around and swung the stock-end of it like a club. It connected with the guard's head, the force of the blow emitting a loud clank as it sent him falling to the floor. It would likely be some time before he got back up.

Bumblebee rushed back down the corridor and stopped before the door into Knock Out's cell. The holographic terminal by it needed some sort of numerical code. The Autobot warrior had no idea what that code may have been. Instead, he simply stepped back and blasted it with the shotgun, the panel exploding in a shower of sparks and burst of flame. The door slid open and Knock Out, weary and wounded, appeared in the doorway. His red optics lit up noticeably when he saw Bumblebee.

"I knew you'd get out," he said, smiling. "Never doubted you for a moment."

"Come on," Bumblebee replied. He would have grabbed Knock Out with his free hand, were it not for the fact that he was lacking one. The shotgun was clasped in his left, his right stump having proved to be fairly useless. Knock Out shuffled past him, relieved to be free of his cell.

"Where are we going?" Knock Out asked, turning around to face the Autobot. "There's still the little matter of being stuck on this ship..."

"Ground-bridge control station," Bumblebee interjected. "Find a weapon, Knock Out. I've only got one arm."

"Oh, I'd rather just stay behind you, Bumblebee."

The Autobot scowled at him. He was not in the mood for Knock Out's usual attitude towards fights.

"Pick up a gun, or something you can hit the bad guys with. Because we're going to have to work together to get off of this nightmare ship." He walked over to the dead Decepticon guard and knelt by him. There was a side-arm clipped to his back, a fairly standard Decepticon model. Bumblebee put aside his shotgun for a moment and used his one hand to pick up the Decepticon pistol before throwing it to Knock Out. The doctor caught it, but not before fumbling it between his hands.

"We're going to die on this ship, aren't we?" Uncertainty laced his voice. Bumblebee stood back up and shook his head.

"We're not going to die," Bumblebee replied. He understood that Knock Out had probably gone through more trauma in a short time than he had in the past nine years, so his anxiety was to be expected. Bumblebee spoke to him sternly, aware that it would be best if he stamped out the problem now, before Knock Out's state of mind fell apart completely. "You're going to pull yourself together, all right?" He reached out with his left hand and placed it upon one of the Decepticon doctor's shoulders. It was unlikely to make him feel any better, but Bumblebee did it anyway. It seemed like the fitting thing to do.

"I'm perfectly fine," Knock Out replied, smarmy as ever, even if his voice and the look in his optics belied the fear he felt within him. Bumblebee noticed it right away. "I just get the impression our odds of survival on this ship are horrendously slim."

Bumblebee took his hand away from Knock Out and picked up the shotgun again.

"Just shut up and follow my lead," he said. With that, he turned around and started down the corridor, with Knock Out trailing along a few paces behind him, his optics darting about anxiously.

 

Decision

Evening had started to fall upon the state of Nevada. The sky above was packed with stars, far more than one could expect to see over a major population centre. Along one of the many desert highways that wound their way across the barren plains was Deadeye, working his way between the hills and through the valleys. He roared along in his vehicle mode, his mind racing with thoughts, many of which conflicted. He no longer knew where his allegiances lay, but he was sure they were not with the Taskforce. Colonel Carver and Captain Van Cleef were two humans he had never liked much to begin with, but they had given him a good deal in exchange for his help and he had gone along with it because why not? It was an easy life, the work was fun and he could essentially do whatever he wanted as long as it did not start trouble with human civilians.

He kept driving. He had driven in circles a few times already, following the roads across the desert and through a few small towns. No one gave him a second glance. A luxury silver and blue four-door shooting through Backwoods, Nevada might turn a few heads amongst the locals but little else.

The Taskforce wanted him to essentially hunt down the other Autobots. He might have gone along with it to begin with, helping to bring in Wheeljack, but Colonel Carver was yet to properly explain why such extreme measures were needed. The fact that they had killed Agent Fowler and burned down Rafael's house only struck him as far more extreme than he believed was necessary. He had had little to do with either human, but he had been told about them. He had perused the reports the Taskforce had passed onto him regarding them, as well as the other humans that had become involved with Unit-E and the Autobots. And now it appeared that each and every one of them, human or Autobot, had been marked as a "threat" by the Taskforce. Bumblebee may have killed this nation's leader, yet even Deadeye found that one hard to believe. Of course, it did not matter to Carver what he believed. It was enough for the human media to start sowing the seeds of fear and panic, that an alien force on Earth had struck such a decisive blow. Deadeye realised then that he had been a willing accomplice to what was essentially a coup in progress. Carver had his own agenda and there was little doubt in Deadeye's mind that it involved putting himself in charge. And by 'in charge', Deadeye meant 'in charge of everything'. Maybe he should have seen it from the beginning, there might have been signs of the man's lust for power as far back as their first meeting.

Deadeye kept the accelerator floored as he went tearing through the desert. The road ahead gave him a hairpin turn, one he traversed fluidly, skidding sharply upon the bend as he drifted along it. He kicked up a plume of smoke and dust in his wake. Yet, for all the expertise he displayed, his mind was very much in another place.

What the hell am I going to do? He had made it a point to avoid any significant Autobot contact. He had no desire to get dragged off to Cybertron, he did not want to help in any reconstruction effort. He was a soldier, he had been one for as long as he could remember. He would never lay down his guns, not for as long as Decepticons were around. And there were still plenty around. Some apparently worked for the Taskforce, if the events of earlier were anything to go by. How long had that arrangement been in place? Or was it simply coincidence?

Coincidence? Bullshit. He did not believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason, there were no exceptions to that. He pushed his engines a bit harder then, sending him swinging wide around a sharp bend and straight into the path of an oncoming truck.

His reaction time was far greater than the human driver in the truck ahead. He swerved to the left, brushing by the truck at a hair's distance. The driver sounded his horn as he brought his truck skidding to a halt, all the while Deadeye put a few hundred metres distance between them. A close call? Maybe, but he was not in the mood to care. The road ahead of him straightened out, going all the way into the mostly flat horizon. An old railway line was visible far off to the right and a freight train trundled along it steadily, bearing numerous carriages of varying designs, though most were covered in graffiti of some sort.

If he wanted nothing to do with the Taskforce, yet nothing to do with the Autobots, then what on Earth was he going to do? He had no way to get off of this planet. His ship was nothing but a wreck, stored in a warehouse somewhere, having since been picked apart not only by himself but by human researchers. And what annoyed him even more, leaving him further conflicted, was the fact that he actually liked this planet. He liked the humans, he liked their entertainment, he liked the environment. In an effort to ease his growing sense of frustration, he tuned his radio to one of the more musically-oriented stations that broadcast in the region. Immediately his head was filled with hard rock, a particular genre of human music he had grown an affinity for.

Even if he could leave Earth, he realised that he would not be able to simply turn his back on what was happening, regardless of who was in the "right". And that was just it: there was no "right" and "wrong". He had learned this the hard way on Cybertron. For all the talk the Autobot leaders would give about "freedom", they would often become as brutal as the Decepticons when out on the battlefield. He was no different; he even revelled in the killing. That was what had made helping the Taskforce so appealing in the first place.

Helping them hunt down and kill rogue Decepticons had given him the outlet he had needed. Not once had he questioned his actions, not once had he given any thought as to why the Taskforce was doing this, instead of Unit-E. He had assumed, and even been told by the Colonel, that Unit-E was the diplomatic side of interaction with Cybertronians, forming a direct line of communication with Cybertron. The Taskforce, on the other hand, was the organization that did the dirty work. They were the first and last line of defence against alien aggressors. That was what Colonel Carver had told him. Deadeye had believed it without question. And why would he not have? The Taskforce had given him the opportunity to kill Decepticons. He had not cared for the context, nor had he cared about what the organization did with the remains of those Cybertronians it killed.

At the back of his mind, he had figured that they had been reverse-engineering the technology. Building weapons designed specifically to kill Cybertronians. To kill beings like him, and here he had been helping them do it. And when they had told him to find Wheeljack, to take him in alive, he had done it without so much as a second thought.

He hated feeling like this. Everything he had done, helping the Taskforce, had been for entirely selfish reasons. He had sometimes thought this, although he had written it off simply because he had figured he was entitled to being selfish. Fighting in the war, seeing friends die all around him, all at the hands of Decepticons and the occasional Insecticon; he thought that maybe he deserved some time doing what he wanted, getting some payback in his own way, even after the war had "ended".

He had fought Wheeljack, one of his own. He had almost helped the Taskforce hunt down Fowler, Darby and Rafael. Humans who, to him, had done nothing. And the Taskforce had been working with Decepticons. Or not, he could not be entirely certain. Not that it mattered. There were Decepticons out there who needed to be taken care of. There were also Autobots that needed help. Humans allies as well. The Taskforce was also a problem. They would likely come after him now. At least he knew what to expect from them.

He shut off the radio at that point and instead reactivated his comms, all the while he continued tearing down the desert road. He wondered if the Autobots would even want anything to do with him. Still, it was worth a shot.

"Ultra Magnus, Commander, sir, whatever you want to be called," he said, broadcasting on all known Autobot frequencies. It was a risky move, as the Decepticons could have very easily been listening in. And the Taskforce for that matter, as he had showed them how to listen in on Cybertronian communications. As long as he stayed on the move, they should not be able to triangulate his position very accurately. Just to make it even harder for them to estimate his position, he shifted off of the highway, planting his wheels onto the dirt and sand before he went shooting off into the desert.

"I know you can hear me. You wouldn't have your comms off. You'd need them on to organize your little band of fugitives." Was I too blunt? Deadeye mused. He did not expect an immediate answer. In fact, he would be surprised if he received any kind of answer at all. "This is Deadeye. I'm willing to help you. You and your buddies." He repeated this message a few times over as he moved, until finally, after about ten minutes, Ultra Magnus' voice came filtering through his comms, stern as always.

"Why should we trust you?"

"Good question. And I don't expect you to trust me. But I'm willing to help. We could meet, even. Wherever you want."

There was a long pause. Ultra Magnus was likely deliberating the matter with the other Autobots, probably even the humans who were tagging along with them.

"Come alone and unarmed. I will send the coordinates to you in a coded comms burst that will happen once only. Be there within the next two hours, otherwise the next time we meet, it will likely be as enemies."

"Go ahead, Commander," Deadeye replied. He had no desire to meet Ultra Magnus unarmed, but he figured he could stash his guns someplace nearby and grab them if trouble occurred. He only had to get to the meeting area before the Autobot Commander did. Chances are Ultra Magnus would not come alone. Even if it appeared he was, there would likely be one of the other Autobots waiting nearby to jump in if trouble started.

The comms burst came through and Deadeye memorized the coordinates easily. The communications link shut off then from Ultra Magnus' end. Deadeye switched his comms off in response, as to ensure further security. Anyone could have been listening in, although the Autobot codes that Ultra Magnus disguised the coordinates with would take time for any Decepticons to break. Deadeye may have told the Taskforce how to listen in on Cybertronian communications, but he had not taught them about the Autobot codes. He had had no reason to, as the Decepticons had been the enemy at that point, no one else. It was funny how things could change so drastically and so suddenly.

----------------------------

"You can't be serious." Wildstrike crossed her arms, one optic ridge raised as she regarded Ultra Magnus. He stood a short distance ahead of her, in the shadow of an old wooden building. They stood by a cliff-face. A narrow dirt road wound its way across the plain, leading to a small cluster of rundown wooden buildings that had once formed a mining town. The town in question had been abandoned several decades earlier and most of the structures were in serious disrepair. Even so, the place made a fairly decent location to hide out in, given how out of the way it was.

"It's my decision," Ultra Magnus replied. He turned to face her. "I'll meet with Deadeye. I'll hear what he has to say. We can't ignore him, even if it is a setup."

"We sure as hell can, sir," Wildstrike countered. "You could be walking straight into the clutches of those humans who are chasing after us. Those Taskforce people, whoever they are. It looks like, to me anyway, that they'll go to any lengths to get us."

"That's why you're staying here," Ultra Magnus said. It sounded like an order, one Wildstrike was not especially keen on following. However, she would never disobey Ultra Magnus. She respected him far too much for that. Still, if his safety was at risk...

"Is that an order, sir?" She scowled at him. Hiding her frustration from him was the least of her concerns.

"I can make it one."

Ultra Magnus hefted up the heavy rifle, the very one Doubletake had brought here from Cybertron. The Autobot Commander checked the power pack before deactivating the weapon's safety. There was a brief high-pitched whine as it charged up.

"I should come with you..." Wildstrike began, but she was interrupted.

"Look after the humans," Ultra Magnus said. He nodded to one of the rundown houses nearby. Both Jack and Rafael were standing just outside, with an old metal barrel between them. In it, they had started a fire using whatever wood they could salvage from the old buildings, as well as the small amount of gasoline that had been stored in the nearby shed.

"And if you get ambushed?" Wildstrike had come to Earth to make sure Ultra Magnus had not been harmed. She wanted to protect him, even if she knew him well enough to know that the last thing he needed from her was outright protection. Still, she could not shake that desire to help him in any way she could. She did not want him getting killed, not under her watch.

"I'll contact you," Ultra Magnus said.

"Sir, how can you be so sure?" Wildstrike took a step towards him. "I didn't come to this planet just to let you go off on some foolhardy venture."

"This whole situation is a 'foolhardy venture'," Ultra Magnus said. "And because of these extreme circumstances, I need you in top form. I need you to follow my orders, no matter how much you might not like them."

"I've always done that, sir."

"And you'll continue doing it." The Autobot Commander stuck the rifle to his back via a magnetic clip. "Stay here. That's an order."

"I don't think I could live with myself if you got yourself killed, sir," Wildstrike said. She felt that she might have come off as a bit too blunt, but even if that was the case all Ultra Magnus did was slightly narrow his optics.

"You'll be fine," Ultra Magnus said. With that, he turned around and quickly transformed into his truck form. Wildstrike remained standing where she was, watching him as he hit the accelerator and sped off down the dirt road, a thick plume of dust erupting in his wake. He disappeared from view a moment later, after heading down an incline. Wildstrike considered following him at a distance, but an order was an order. The humans here needed her protection. Leaving them alone could prove fatal for them if the Taskforce came by.

She turned around, making her way over to where Jack and Rafael were standing. They were warming themselves by the barrel fire. Nights out here could get cold, a stark contrast to the stinking heat of the day. Rafael looked up at her, his face a mix of emotions. If Wildstrike were to apply one word to them, it would have to be 'grim'. Rafael was a young man, just past twenty years of age. In the last six hours he had had his house destroyed and an old friend die. Wildstrike did not know Rafael personally, she had simply read about 'Team Prime' from reports provided by the likes of Ultra Magnus and Bumblebee. Rafael had been the youngest human in the group, an intelligent boy of twelve when he had first met the Autobots. He was a man now, his features certainly matured compared to the images Wildstrike had seen of him. Taller and broader, save for his glasses that looked the same. And his outfit had not changed much either.

"You in the Elite Guard?" Jack was the one to ask the question. He looked up at her through tired eyes. The events of the last day for him had likely left him feeling weary.

"Yes," Wildstrike replied.

"Smokescreen was in the Elite Guard, wasn't he?" He glanced to Rafael. The other human just nodded slowly in response. Jack returned his attention to Wildstrike. "How is Smokescreen, anyway?"

"He was doing all right, last I checked," Wildstrike said. She had never actually interacted with humans before, so she was not entirely sure how to compose herself. Learning English from the 'worldwide web' had been simple enough. Actually having a casual conversation with a human was another matter entirely. "I, ah...haven't had much to do with him. Our assignments usually keep us apart." She neglected to mention that she found Smokescreen one of the more irritable Autobots she had ever worked with. Hiding what she really thought of others and keeping her opinions to herself was pretty much a necessity when one was in the Elite Guard. She had to serve as an example to others, after all. Having a thick finish was practically a job requirement.

"You think Deadeye will help?" This question caught her off-guard. Wildstrike just shrugged.

"I don't even know Deadeye," she said. "From what you've told me, it sounds like this Taskforce has him under their sway."

"You sounded pretty worried about Magnus." Jack, for all his weariness and frustration, managed to curl his mouth into a sort of half-smile. "You must really care for him."

"He's my superior," Wildstrike replied quickly. "Of course I care for him. I respect him a great deal."

Jack nodded slowly, although he did not look convinced. Wildstrike had at least told a partial truth, in her view.

Jack picked up a bottle of somewhat dirty water, part of what he had scavenged from the rundown buildings. There was a pump nearby, boring down into an underground spring. If Wildstrike had been human, she might have had second thoughts about drinking water from that pump. Jack and Rafael, on the other hand, did not have much of a choice. They were far from civilisation and neither of them were in any mood to travel. That, and the Taskforce would have a far easier time of finding them if they went into a town or city.

Jack downed about a third of the bottle's contents before handing it to Rafael.

"Are we really going to spend the night here?" Rafael asked. He regarded the slightly brown water contained in the bottle with obvious disgust.

"Where do you suggest we go?" Jack turned to him. "A motel? Do you want to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of the Taskforce breaking open the door to your room?"

"They can't find us that easily, Jack."

"They could have access to any surveillance camera in the country. We can't take any chances. Not with every law enforcement agency out to get us."

Rafael shook his head. Wildstrike got the impression that an argument was about to start. She found herself at a loss on how to react, whether she should step in now and try to prevent it or simply let it run its course.

"Why can't we turn ourselves in?" Rafael asked. Jack's eyes widened when he heard this. Wildstrike thought that for a moment, as she watched his reaction, he might hit Rafael.

"Did you see what they did to Fowler?" Jack spat. "They don't want us alive. They want us out of the way. We're a threat to them."

"I could turn myself in," Rafael replied. He sounded defiant even if his voice was tinged with unease. He was clearly unsure of himself and Wildstrike got the impression that he may have simply been testing the waters with Jack, regarding the topic. "I haven't killed anyone."

"Do you think I enjoy doing that? We were being shot at, Raf. It was us or them. Fight or die. And I fought. Don't you dare hold that against me." Jack's tone took on a far nastier edge. He pointed a finger at Rafael, his face contorted with a weary anger. "Turning yourself in would be pointless. They'd probably kill you anyway, or lock you up for life. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?"

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Rafael raised his voice, making his uncertain tone all the more apparent. "We're fugitives. And I sure didn't ask to get dragged into this."

"They were already on their way to you when we got to your house," Jack said. "They already got Miko. I don't even know if she's alive. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let them get you too."

There was a brief silence between the two of them then. Wildstrike felt a bit awkward standing nearby, simply watching the pair argue. What was human etiquette when two people near to you were getting at each other's throats?

"They killed Fowler. For that I'll go to any lengths to bring them down." Jack relaxed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone of voice easing off of the anger, becoming stern and serious instead. "We'll bring down the entire Taskforce, as well as the Decepticons while we're at it."

"How?"

"That's a very good question," Wildstrike interjected, getting the attention of both humans. "You can talk all you want, it's your actions that will make the most difference."

"What do you think, then?" Jack asked her, genuinely curious.

"About what?"

"About what we should do."

Wildstrike shrugged. She was still very new to the whole situation. Ultra Magnus and Jack had told her all they knew, but that was hardly the same as experiencing it for herself.

"Where's their headquarters?" She asked.

"We blew up most of it," Jack answered. He was likely referring to the compound and what had happened there, sometime prior to her arrival on Earth.

"If they're as powerful as you say, there's likely more than just the one place," Wildstrike said. "If I were you, I'd find out where their main base of operations was. Their central hub."

Jack nodded in agreement.

"I was thinking the same thing," he said. "But I worked with the Taskforce for six months. Not once did I hear any mention or see anything written down about a 'central hub' or 'secret lair' or whatever they call it. I assumed the compound was it. Colonel Carver always made it out to me that the Taskforce was underfunded."

"Underfunded enough to build advanced weapons and win the aid of Deadeye?" Wildstrike tilted her head slightly, looking towards the human questioningly. Jack shrugged.

"If we can get to a computer with a network connection I could try using my Taskforce credentials to get into their database," he said. "It's a stretch since they've probably locked me out, but maybe someone somewhere overlooked it. And if all else fails, Raf here could try and hack in. Maybe then we'll be able to find their headquarters."

Rafael frowned. His dislike of this "plan" was clear.

"Hacking into the network of a black ops organization is not something I've done before," he said. "It's not easy, it's not like breaking into a conspiracy website and replacing a few images. We're talking proxies, firewalls, trackers, signal bouncing, all that stuff. Hacking at that level isn't something I've done much of."

"We're going to have to try," Jack said. "If we can expose what the Taskforce is doing to the public, that'll be the end of them. They've already been manipulating the media. We could turn that against them if we got hold of the truth." He sounded like he was starting to get excited. Wildstrike found his eagerness commendable, if a little misplaced and premature for that matter.

"We'll need a computer, an actual high-grade one and not just some cheap laptop," Rafael said. He still did not sound convinced. "And, if we actually succeed in finding out where their main base of operations is, what do we do then?"

"We launch an attack," Wildstrike said. The two humans looked at her funny, as if they thought she was crazy. "That's what I'd do."

--------------------------

Jack felt tired. That was the most succinct word for his current condition. Tired and frustrated, wrought with indecision, left uncertain about his chances of survival by what had happened today. Despite all of this, he had been formulating a plan in his mind, one that was sounding less likely to succeed the more he spoke about it. His mood was not helped by the cold and the wind, as well as the fact that he was in the middle of nowhere with only a fire in a rusted barrel as a source of warmth. Spending the night in a rundown wooden building that would likely be condemned by any modern day building inspectors also put a significant crimp in his usually friendly demeanour. Wildstrike's suggestions were not helping much either.

A frontal attack? Was she crazy? She came across like a more restrained female version of Smokescreen. Was everyone in the Elite Guard like that?
"Or we could try being a bit more subtle," Jack suggested. "We just need a computer, first and foremost. I had one at my house..." Of course, going back to his house would be a terrible course of action that would likely lead to disaster, so he would have to scratch that idea from the list of potential ones. That, however, left very few courses of action available.

"I'm thinking something a bit more than that," Rafael interrupted. "Unit-E has offices scattered around the country. We could go to one of them."

"That's if the Taskforce hasn't stripped them all clean already." Jack was aware of the offices Unit-E had scattered around the country. They were really just small affairs, out of the way and hidden from public view. They were often used to gather information that would in turn be passed onto the headquarters. Essentially, these 'outposts' were a means to look out for Decepticons, not that they had seen much use in recent years. Jack had heard that some had even been closed down, so he really had no idea just how many of them were left open.

"The locations are top secret..." Rafael did not get a chance to finish before Jack interrupted him.

"And the Taskforce is above that," Jack said. He paused, looking to Wildstrike. She was certainly listening to their conversation, although looking at her now it seemed that she was unsure of what to say. She had likely never been to Earth before, let alone interacted with humans, so it was somewhat understandable that the Cybertronian female was unsure of how to act when in the presence of the planet's natives.

"I think there's one in Carson City," Rafael said.

"The Taskforce could be crawling all over it." It was a fair drive to Carson City. With the help of the Autobots it would likely not take quite as long. Still, he did not fancy another long drive across the desert. And if they got there, then what? The Taskforce would likely be right behind them. This whole "plan" was beginning to look a whole lot worse than it had a few minutes ago. Jack would have liked to maintain a positive attitude, but that was becoming increasingly hard to do after everything that had happened.

"What do you suggest then?" Rafael frowned, his voice taking on a frustrated edge. "We haven't got any other option."

"You were pretty keen to turn yourself in earlier."

"No, I wasn't. I was just considering it as a possibility, but you're right that we'll likely just get killed anyway. And since when have we ever given up?" Rafael took a step forwards, his frown softening. "We've taken on worse. MECH, Megatron, even Unicron."

"That's a matter of perspective," Jack said. "We didn't lose anyone before. Now Fowler's gone. If he were still here, we might still have a plan." Fowler had been in the military, he would have known what to do. He sure would not have wanted them to give up and certainly not to turn themselves in. "I'll be damned if I let Van Cleef and Carver get away with what they've done. What they continue to do. They took our lives away, made us fugitives in our own country. We'll have to fight to get them back."

"We really going to take them on?" Rafael sounded doubtful. "If they're as far-reaching as you've suggested, then I don't see how we're going to be able to do it."

"Don't you see?" Jack was the one to take a step forwards now. He planted both hands on Rafael's shoulders. "They would want us to doubt ourselves. To argue. We can't allow that. We have to pick ourselves up and go on the offensive. Standing around and arguing about it isn't going to get us anywhere." He remembered what Fowler had said earlier that day, about pushing on ahead and never doubting yourself. Sure, it was easy to say, but putting it into practice was another matter entirely. "If you say there's a Unit-E office in Carson City, then that's where we'll go."

He turned to look over at Wildstrike. She had turned around, her gaze directed towards the dirt road. Jack would have liked to hear her input, but instead he found his attention going the same way as Wildstrike's, his gaze settling on the familiar blue truck that was speeding towards them. To its left travelled a very familiar four-door car. Wildstrike saw this vehicle and her right arm shifted into its cannon mode. She stood alert, ready to start shooting at a moment's notice.

Ultra Magnus came to a halt nearby before rapidly transforming into his biped form. Deadeye followed suit, only to turn around and find Wildstrike pointing her cannon right into his face. Jack walked forwards, unsure of what to make of Deadeye. He had liked the Autobot, maybe even considered him a friend, but his involvement with the Taskforce and willingness to help them when he had attacked Wheeljack had cast a shadow over Jack's perception of him. Apparently he was here to make amends, if Ultra Magnus' presence was anything to go by.

"Lower the weapon, Lieutenant," the Autobot Commander said. He put out an arm, gently touching Wildstrike on her raised forearm. She frowned at him, receiving a stern look in return. Reluctantly, she lowered her cannon, shifting her arm back to normal. All the while Deadeye watched her, a smirk visible on his face.

"You didn't tell me you had a female companion here, Magnus," Deadeye said. His optics shifted downwards as he took in her complete form. "And a very fetching one at that."

"You keep your eyes up when you talk to me," Wildstrike demanded. Deadeye did so, their optics meeting. Jack watched this with some vague amusement.

"All right," Deadeye replied. "Take it easy." He turned to face Ultra Magnus. "Can I have my guns back now?"

Ultra Magnus wore both of Deadeye's guns at his waist. He simply shook his head in response to the other Autobot's request and Deadeye crossed his arms, huffing audibly.

"Why'd you bring him back here, sir?" Wildstrike asked the Autobot Commander.

"He's willing to help," Ultra Magnus answered.

Jack looked up at Deadeye and the Autobot returned the gaze. A remorseful expression crossed his metallic features.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Deadeye said.

"For what?"

"For attacking Wheeljack. I didn't like carrying out that order. And they wanted me to go after you and Rafael, but that's when I called it quits."

"You called it quits?" Jack narrowed his eyes. He found this a bit hard to believe.

"I just left," Deadeye explained. "How else do you want me to put it? They wanted me to help them hunt you and your friends down. I wasn't having any of that anymore."

"It's going to take some doing to redeem yourself for all that. Especially for Wheeljack. I think he wants to kill you."

Deadeye chuckled. Apparently he found this funny.

"I can understand why," the Autobot said. "Where is Wheeljack, anyway?" He took a quick scan of his surroundings, finding no trace of the Wrecker.

"Not here," Ultra Magnus stated, matter-of-factly.

"Just how much help is he going to be, sir?" Wildstrike regarded Deadeye with noticeable disdain. Jack remained where he was while Rafael stepped forwards, stopping just to his right. He had never met Deadeye before, so naturally his curiosity had compelled him to take a closer look. Deadeye peered down at him, noticing the human's curious expression.

"You Rafael?" He asked simply.

"Yeah." Rafael took his glasses off then, using one sleeve to wipe the insides of the lenses clean of dirt.

"Jack mentioned you a few times." Deadeye glanced at the human in question. Jack retained a straight face. He and Deadeye might have had some good times in the past, but looking back on all those now simply left Jack feeling unsure of it all. Everything he had done with the Taskforce had taken on a more sinister and unnerving edge when he thought back on it. And to think he had almost completely abandoned Unit-E for them? It was likely Colonel Carver had been gradually trying to manipulate him for his own ends, maybe even turn Jack to whatever extreme cause he believed himself to be fighting for.

"He said you're pretty smart," Deadeye said.

"He did?" Rafael turned to Jack, an eyebrow raised. A cold breeze billowed across the plain then, kicking up the sand near their feet.

"Maybe I did." Jack rubbed one eye, doing what he could to keep it free of sand.

Wildstrike grabbed Deadeye by the back of the neck at that point, causing him to elicit a startled grunt.

"That's enough small-talk," Wildstrike barked. "What are we going to do with this sorry excuse for an Autobot, sir?" She directed the question to Ultra Magnus, who had been listening to the conversation with his usually stoic demeanour. "What information does he have that could help us?" She turned Deadeye around, letting go of his neck. He rubbed the back of it with one hand, eyeing Wildstrike with annoyance.

"I can't remember the last time I had a female handle me quite like that," he said. "It's lonely, living the life I do."

"That was your choice," Ultra Magnus countered. "You're welcome to come back to Cybertron, whenever you wish."

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks."

Wildstrike leaned towards him. She stood only slightly shorter than he did, yet managed to look more intimidating with the cold gaze she carried in her bright blue optics.

"Where's the Taskforce headquarters?" She asked him.

"I don't know," Deadeye said. "The compound was it." The silence that followed made him look around worriedly, confusion etched on his features. "Wasn't it?"

Wildstrike looked past him and to Ultra Magnus.

"Was it, sir?"

"I don't know." The Autobot Commander shook his head.

"Raf and I plan on finding out where the Taskforce have their main base," Jack said. The three Cybertronians looked down at him, with Ultra Magnus raising one optic ridge ever so slightly. "There's a Unit-E office in Carson City. That's where we have to go." He spoke confidently, despite his reservations regarding the proposed plan. It felt good to be the one calling the shots instead of the Autobots. There was something confidence-boosting when one knew something these advanced aliens did not, as childish as the thought was. Even with Miko's abduction and Fowler's death hanging over him, Jack did feel some excitement at the prospect of turning the tide against the Taskforce. That really should not be too difficult with three Autobots to help him, and Rafael for good measure. Yet, when push came to shove, he would likely have to resort to utilising the revolver he had stashed in his trousers. Something told him he might need heavier firepower if he were to get through what lay ahead.

"Carson City?" Deadeye knew the place. "Sounds good to me." He glanced at Ultra Magnus and then to Wildstrike. "What do you two think? Carson City sound like it could yield some results?" He rubbed his hands together, his excitement not at all infectious when the two other Autobots were concerned. Wildstrike just watched him with a fairly dour look on her face.

"Can I have my guns back, boss?" Deadeye tried the request again, only for Ultra Magnus to shake his head. "So, ah, when can I have them back?"

"When I'm sure you won't run out on us," Ultra Magnus replied, his voice stern. "Let's make a few things clear: You follow my lead, Deadeye. That means you follow my orders. None of this 'rebel without a cause' nonsense. You step out of line and I'll shoot you. Just like you did to me, back at the compound. I think I should do the same to you right now, just so you know how it feels to have a round like that burn through your frame."

"I didn't take you for the vengeful sort, Magnus."

"You don't know me well enough." With one hand, Ultra Magnus shoved Deadeye in the back, causing him to momentarily stumble forwards. "Now transform. We're moving out."

 

Fight or Flight

Bumblebee could feel his strength leaving him as time passed, when the last of the synthetic energon that had been coursing through him began to wear off. Any 'high' he had been on was long over and now, in the full throes of withdrawal, he could feel nothing but aches and pains all throughout his body. Compounded by the fact he only had one arm, a few crudely patched-up wounds at his torso and a former Decepticon doctor tagging along behind him made his situation all the more complicated. Escape had been on his mind since the beginning of his captivity on board Cyclonus' cruiser, however he had not thought he might end up in quite the sorry state by the time he was able to make good of an opportunity to break out.

His movements had slowed, enough for Knock Out to make a comment. The doctor was nothing but worry and anxiety, staying behind Bumblebee as the pair made their way off of an elevator and onto deck sixteen of the apparently large cruiser. Bumblebee had no idea just how large it was, as he had not seen it once from the outside. If Cyclonus' personal yacht was a part of it, then the cruiser itself must have been massive. General Cyclonus' "yacht" had been large enough on its own.

Bumblebee started down the corridor ahead, Knock Out following closely. In Bumblebee's one and only arm he clutched the flechette shotgun that he had acquired from the fallen Decepticon guard. Knock Out held a side-arm, though even now his grip on the weapon was visibly shaky.

As for the ground-bridge control room, Bumblebee figured that he should have asked the Decepticon guard for better directions since he had no idea where on this deck his intended destination was located. The pair came to a T-junction in the mostly grey and purple corridor, a subdued glow emanating from the series of white lights set into the ceiling and walls. Here, Bumblebee stopped for a moment, his arms and legs aching. The world seemed to spin all around him, if only for a moment, before righting itself.

"Your optics," Knock Out said, looking at him. "They've lost their green hue."

"Is that a good thing?" Bumblebee was surprised by the feebleness of his own voice.

"It means the synth-en's virtually gone from your system," Knock Out replied.
"Really? Because I feel awful." Bumblebee ran a hand over his head. The pounding in his helm felt like it would be enough to make it explode.

The sound of approaching footsteps became audible then, coming from somewhere down the left hall and immediately the doctor fell silent, nodding in the direction of the noise.

Bumblebee peeked around the corner, watching as two burly Decepticon soldiers strolled towards them. He ducked his head back and the pair strolled by. As soon as they were within reach, Bumblebee turned his shotgun around in his left hand and swung it like a club, the stock connecting with the back of the head of one of the guards. He fell onto all fours, the other turning around in response to the sudden attack. The second guard was a fairly broad-shouldered, mostly silver and grey Decepticon; his friend being a slightly slimmer ground-pounder with a similar colour scheme.

Knock Out fired a shot from his pistol, wincing as the weapon fired. The red blast of energy struck the Decepticon guard in the side, causing him to let out a cry of pain. Bumblebee lunged for him, his joints hurting at the sudden exertion. Nonetheless, he fought through it, knocking the second guard to the floor before planting the barrel of the shotgun against the bottom of his chin. His optics met with the glowing red ones of the Decepticon beneath him and for a brief moment there was visible fear in his eyes. Bumblebee could feel no remorse for those who had tortured him and pitted him against a friend.

He pulled the trigger, causing the Decepticon's face to disappear in a flash. Energon fluid splattered across his face and chest, the guard's mangled head falling back as the Autobot rose onto his feet. He swivelled around to face the other, slimmer Decepticon, pointing the barrel towards his head. This one was on his knees, looking along the shotgun's sights and straight into Bumblebee's optics. He kept a straight face, even with his comrade lying dead nearby.

"Knock Out, grab this one," Bumblebee ordered. He glanced over to the doctor, who eyed him strangely, one optic ridge raised.

"Why?"

"Because I've only got one arm," Bumblebee said. "Grab him. He'll be our guide."

Knock Out put away his sidearm and pulled the Decepticon to his feet with both arms. The soldier rose up, with Bumblebee keeping his shotgun pointed squarely at him.

"Show us the way to the ground-bridge control room," Bumblebee said. "Do that and you won't end up like your friend over there."

The Decepticon soldier glanced at the friend in question and then back to Bumblebee.

"You're outnumbered on this ship," the Decepticon said. "What makes you think you'll get off it alive?"

"Because you're going to help me," Bumblebee countered. "Tell us the way."

The Decepticon soldier was silent for a prolonged period, considering his options, his face maintaining a grim expression the whole way through. Meanwhile, Bumblebee listened carefully for any approaching footsteps or voices, as the noise of the shots that had been fired here likely would not have gone unnoticed. The Decepticon soldier was probably counting on just this.

"Knock Out, step aside," Bumblebee said. Knock Out let go of the Decepticon and did as he was told. Bumblebee stepped forwards, planting the barrel of the shotgun against the Decepticon's neck. The soldier's red optics widened noticeably.

"Before any of your friends come by, I think I'll just blow your head off. All it takes is a pull of the trigger." Speaking of heads, Bumblebee's continued to pound painfully. His body hungered for more of the synthetic energon and it apparently hurt him all the more to know he would not be getting any. He certainly would not willingly take anymore, regardless of how much he ached for it. Yet, the boost to speed and strength such a substance would give him may have actually proven helpful in his current situation.

"All right, Autobot," the Decepticon soldier said. "The ground bridge control room is down the hall, take the right. You won't miss it."

"Thanks." Bumblebee lowered the shotgun, a look of relief crossing the Decepticon's face. Instead, the Autobot stuck the barrel against the soldier's stomach and fired, blowing a gaping hole into him, spurting energon fluid and metal fragments all over the floor before him. The Decepticon let out a shout, clutching at his innards as he fell to his side. He began to writhe and groan where he lay. Bumblebee turned his attention down the corridor, barely giving the wounded Decepticon a second thought. Knock Out looked down at the Decepticon soldier, a startled look on his face, before he returned his attention towards Bumblebee.

"Are you feeling all right, Bumblebee?" He asked.

"No," the Autobot answered flatly. He started walking down the hall, Knock Out falling into step behind him. The doctor pulled his pistol out, even if his grip on the weapon was visibly shaky. He had rarely needed to fire a weapon in anger, Bumblebee knew him well enough to know that the only time Knock Out fought was when he had the clear advantage. And right now, neither of them were in any kind of advantageous position.

As they neared the ground-bridge control room, the sounds of multiple voices and footsteps became audible, echoing down the metal corridors. The Decepticon soldier had given them fairly accurate directions, leading the pair to a set of open double doors, behind them a vast circular room populated with several Decepticons. A green glow emanated from the far end of the room, where a ground-bridge had been open, a swirling mass of green and blue energy where several Decepticons stood before it. Bumblebee came to the doorway as these Decepticons turned around and headed into the portal. They were seemingly swallowed up by it while another Decepticon manipulated the holographic terminal at the wall on the left. The display showed what Bumblebee knew immediately was a three-dimensional map of wherever the Decepticon squad had been sent. It appeared to be a rocky valley of some sort.

There were two others in the control room. A large, broad-shouldered figure with a mostly orange and red finish stood in the centre, accompanied by a burly Decepticon guard who was talking with him. It was the orange figure, tall and imposing, who caught Bumblebee's attention. This one turned around as Bumblebee slipped quietly into the room, and while the Autobot ducked behind a control terminal he caught sight of this particular Cybertronian's more defining features.

The crest on his head, much like what Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus had, was one thing. The glowing blue optics were another. And finally, the Autobot insignia emblazoned on his chest in stark orange caught Bumblebee's eye. He recognized this Autobot as Star Saber, the one who had ordered the torture he had been put through, all in an attempt to turn him to whatever warped ideals the Autobot zealot had.

"If the humans cannot rid us of these heathens, then we will simply have to do it ourselves." Star Saber looked straight towards the door. His voice carried an authoritative tone, very much stentorian, the sort of voice that could easily catch the attention of others. Whatever conversation he had been having with the other Decepticon, it had ended abruptly for he had begun to stare very intently in Bumblebee's general direction. As for Knock Out, the Decepticon doctor had slipped in at the same time Bumblebee had, lying down behind a set of steps near the terminal Bumblebee crouched behind, placing him just out of the Autobot's view.

Behind Star Saber, the ground-bridge deactivated, leaving the short tunnel it had opened in front of empty. Bumblebee ducked his head back around the terminal, feeling as if the Autobot had looked straight into his eyes. He looked back at the door behind them, watching as a trio of Decepticons rounded a corner out in the corridor and started straight for the ground-bridge control room. This put the trio into the perfect position to see both Bumblebee and Knock Out. One of them shouted and the three of them started running towards the open doors, giving the pair of Autobots only seconds to react.

Bumblebee stood up and fired the shotgun, planting the rounds into the control panel by the door. It exploded in a shower of sparks and the double doors slid shut, locking before the trio of Decepticons could be upon them. While they started thumping on the metal bulkheads, Bumblebee swivelled around to face the other enemies inside the control room with him. The Decepticon at the control terminal ahead was the first to react to him, pulling out a neutron assault rifle only for Bumblebee to fire in his direction. The flechettes hit the control terminal, causing a mass of sparks and plume of smoke to erupt forth. This was enough to cause the Decepticon to stumble backwards a few steps, allowing Bumblebee to fire another shot that caught the hostile squarely in the chest. He tumbled backwards over the guard rail and fell from the platform onto the floor below, his torso riddled with jagged holes.

The other Decepticon who had been standing by Star Saber shifted one arm into an energy cannon and started shooting. One of the shots struck the control panel near Bumblebee, showering him with sparks as he ducked and rolled to one side. Knock Out remained where he was, peeking over the steps with his pistol drawn, firing a few pot-shots in the general direction of the enemy.

Bumblebee rose to his feet, watching as Star Saber ahead stepped to one side. He put one forearm in front of him, a large oval-shaped blue energy shield erupting from the armour there. He held it out before him as Bumblebee fired a shot at him, the flechettes ricocheting off of the shield, sending ripples across it.

The other Decepticon sent another volley of energy bolts his way. Bumblebee jumped forwards, diving ahead with the shotgun raised, some of the bolts zipping by him. He pulled the trigger on the shotgun as he sailed through the air, the flechettes connecting with the Decepticon's head. The top half of his head was sheared clean off, sending his lifeless corpse falling forwards where it tumbled against a terminal, smearing blue energon fluid in its wake. As for Star Saber, he kept his forearm energy shield raised. Bumblebee hit the floor, shifting his aim down in an attempt to hit Star Saber in the unprotected legs. However, the Autobot zealot was fast, crouching low as the shotgun fired. The flechettes struck his forearm shield again, all of them bouncing off of it harmlessly, sending the armour piercing darts flying every which way.

Bumblebee quickly jumped back onto his feet, pointing the shotgun squarely at Star Saber. The Autobot zealot drew his battle plate across his mouth, leaving his blue optics visible. As before, they showed very little emotion. Behind Bumblebee, Decepticon soldiers thumped on the metal doors. Knock Out had risen to his feet, watching Star Saber with visible worry.

"Who's this?" He asked. "And why is he wearing an Autobot emblem?"

"Star Saber," Bumblebee said, ensuring the disgust he felt was clear in his voice.

"You have come at an interesting time, Bumblebee," Star Saber said. He kept his forearm shield raised in front of him, a wise move on his part for Bumblebee would certainly blast him the moment he deactivated it. "I just sent a squad to eliminate your friends. They have been trying to locate this very ship, but in doing so neglected to take proper measures to ensure any scanners of theirs would not be traced." If he was smug, he did not show it. His voice was level, his tone blunt. "I do have to commend you for holding out as long as you have. The synthetic energon we use is woefully unstable and prone to causing violent, unpredictable reactions in those who are injected with it. And to compound this, the withdrawal can be severely draining. You must be feeling the strain now."

As much as Bumblebee hated it, Star Saber was right. He felt drained in a lot of regards and was even amazed himself that he had made it this far. He would need proper rest soon, otherwise he figured he would simply collapse.

"Are you going to tell me your evil scheme before you kill the both of us?" Bumblebee asked. He had seen enough human entertainment to know that this was a particularly popular thing for the villains of the piece to do. Star Saber seemed the sort who would do such a thing. Not only that, but it would be very helpful, as Bumblebee was still very much in the dark as to what the whole situation was about.

However, Star Saber tilted his head slightly in response, his free-hand going for his back.

"Of course not." His hand clutched the hilt of the staff he had planted against his upper back. He pulled it free of the magnetic clips, holding the surprisingly short instrument before him. With a flick of the wrist, the staff extended to twice its length, coming in to almost his full height. One end carried a pair of blue energy blades, both of which shimmered with each movement of the weapon. The rest of the staff was of silver chrome, its surface polished to a reflective sheen.

Bumblebee kept his shotgun trained on the Autobot. He did not look forward to the fight he knew was coming. His current state was far removed from what he was used to.

"The one-armed warrior and the Decepticon turncoat," Star Saber said, holding his staff with the bladed end pointed towards the pair. It sounded like he was gloating, Bumblebee could not tell for sure. "You cannot hope to match me. I have been around far longer than the both of you. I have fought in many battles, before and during the Great War."

"I didn't take you for one to gloat," Bumblebee said. Star Saber shifted into a ready posture, his forearm shield at his left arm and the bladed staff clutched in his right hand.

"I only state the truth," Star Saber said. "And the truth here is..." He started walking forwards, starting to close the distance between himself and Bumblebee. The Autobot warrior took a step backwards, weighing his options. None were particularly appealing.

"You are both going to die screaming!" Star Saber lunged forwards and Bumblebee found himself on the receiving end of the bladed staff far quicker than he had been expecting.

--------------------------------

What time was it? Wheeljack awoke from the Cybertronian equivalent of sleep, his back against the floor in one of the forgotten, somewhat dusty and dimly lit storage areas within the wreck of the Harbinger. He felt refreshed for the first time since arriving on Earth, although this feeling was quickly diminished when he remembered everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Being hunted by humans was not the most comfortable situation to wake up to. And, to add to his increasingly bad mood, Skystreaker was nowhere to be found. I should have thought as much, he realised. She doesn't strike me as the kind to stick around after the fact.

Wheeljack rose to his feet, flexing his joints as he did so. He checked his weapons; both his one sword and his hold-out pistol were where he had left them, on his back and at his waist respectively. In earlier years, he might have felt really good about himself. However, that had not been the case for a long time. Maybe it was his dour mood when he had been working on Cybertron the past nine Earth years that had sent plenty of females away from him. He and Skystreaker had bonded, sure, but he got the impression that they may have gone the whole way.

Am I going to have to ask her? She was not crazy, was she? No crazier than he was, at least. A perfect match, maybe? The thought made him shudder. She had likely been thinking the same thing and, unsurprisingly, the thought had made her uneasy. It was making him uneasy, even though he knew, deep down, that he could see himself in her, albeit with slight differences. Her being female, for one. And a flier. And a Decepticon. He had come a long way since his Decepticon killing days.

It did not surprise him that she had disappeared somewhere. Wheeljack made his way out of the store room and out into the corridor. There were some broken cables hanging from the ceiling, with panelling missing from parts of the walls. Not exactly luxury accommodations, but when one was being pursued by heavily armed humans and even heavier armed Decepticons, hiding out in a dump like this was practically a necessity.

He worked his way back to the control room. There, he found Doubletake seated at the main terminal. The screen in front of him was lit up, displaying a map of the nation whilst feeds of data streamed down along its left. He looked up and swivelled his seat around as Wheeljack entered, the Autobot cop still rolling a red emergency flare between his teeth.

"You well rested?" He asked.

"I'd say so," Wheeljack answered. "You know where Skystreaker is?"

Doubletake shrugged.

"She isn't with you?"

Wheeljack narrowed his optics. Had she run out on them altogether? He let out a sigh. She had certainly made her intentions clear yesterday, that her best chances of survival were through staying with him and the other Autobots, yet apparently she had changed her mind. He found himself feeling like he had been used, then again what should he have expected from a Decepticon? He, and the other Autobots for that matter, had been used as protection by her when one boiled it down. Not only that, but the fact that she deserted after what the two of them had did left him feeling somewhat angry, not just to her but to himself for falling so easily for her "charms".

"She's run off, hasn't she?" Doubletake did not sound too bothered by this possibility. "Can't say I'm surprised." He peered curiously at Wheeljack through narrowed blue optics. "I got the impression that the two of you..."

"There was nothing," Wheeljack interrupted. Lying was something he felt he was pretty good at, although Doubletake looked unconvinced gaze as Wheeljack spoke. "She was, as the humans would say, a 'bitch'."

"Huh." Doubletake rose out of his seat. "That's too bad. Then again, would you expect anything more from a 'Con?"

Wheeljack did not reply. He watched as Doubletake walked over to another, smaller terminal and began to tap at some of the holographic buttons on display.

"You found Bumblebee yet?" He asked Doubletake.

"No." The Autobot cop sounded annoyed. "I haven't found anything. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm beginning to run out of ideas."

Wheeljack considered their options for a moment. He still had the signal beacon he had recovered from Unit-E headquarters. He had since stripped it out of its shell and left himself with a small, but reliable homing beacon he could potentially attach to just about anything. Most others would have scrapped such an item, but not Wheeljack; he was short on equipment as it was and he was willing to use just about anything to give him some kind of edge.

"I got this beacon," Wheeljack said. He pulled the small cylindrical device from where it was clipped to his waist. He tossed it to Doubletake, who caught it in one hand and briefly examined it.

"This could be useful," Doubletake said. "If we could find something important to shove it in. Like a Decepticon transport."

"General Cyclonus' yacht, maybe?" Wheeljack smiled as he said this. He knew then he had a plan in mind, as unlikely as it was to succeed. It would not be the first time he had gone to carry out some crazy, even suicidal, scheme. "If the big guy came down, we'd be able to stick that on his ship and track it back to its source."

"That's just the problem," Doubletake replied. He tossed the device back to Wheeljack, who caught it and clipped it back upon his hip. "Cyclonus isn't going to come back down to Earth unless he absolutely has to. He'd just send his underlings at us. He might not even be on Earth anymore."

Wheeljack shrugged. The beacon was not something he was just going to abandon. He needed anything that could give him an edge.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Wheeljack raised an optic ridge. His patience had been wearing thin lately, not that he had had much to begin with. "We're outnumbered, outgunned and stranded. Those would usually be good odds for a Wrecker, but even back in the war there would always be some kind of exit strategy. A failsafe in place, something other than blowing yourself up. But there's none of that this time around. All we have are a few guns and our instincts. And my instincts tell me screwing around here any longer is a bad idea."

"You're probably right."

"I know I'm right."

"You got a plan?" Doubletake was quick to correct himself. "I mean, of course you don't have a plan. You're a Wrecker. Were, anyway."

"Magnus says I'm a 'builder' now," Wheeljack said. He scoffed. "If he means 'building explosives', then sure, I guess I could be a 'builder'. But we have to do something, Doubletake. We have to take the fight to the bad guys before they catch us off-guard. And I'm tired of being caught off-guard."

Doubletake appeared to consider this for a moment. He eventually shook his head, an uncertain look on his face.

"As much as I like to take down Decepticons, I ain't got any ideas," he said. "They can find us a lot easier than we can find them."

"So we meet them on even terms," Wheeljack suggested.

"How do you suggest we do that?"

He shrugged.

"We'll have to work that out. I don't exactly plan ahead." He paused briefly. He hated feeling like this, at a complete loss on what to do. Of course, he could just head outside and start driving. Chances are the bad guys would come to him. Yet he did not want to leave Doubletake here, nor have him follow him into an ambush. Although he hardly knew the fellow Autobot, he did not wish to be responsible for his death, no matter how well Doubletake might have been able to handle himself in a fight.

"How do they do it in cop-land, anyway?" He asked Doubletake, curious. "You are a cop, aren't you?"

Doubletake nodded his head. He rolled the emergency flare between his metal teeth thoughtfully, eyeing Wheeljack curiously as he considered the questions.

"There's a lot of bureaucracy," Doubletake replied, after a pause. "My position as Security Chief nets me some lenience regarding the paperwork, but even I have my bosses. And as much as I would love to go into a Decepticon worker district in Iacon and shoot anyone there who steps out of line, my superiors won't allow it. They'd rather play nice. That's 'playing nice' with those who likely don't even know what 'nice' means."

Wheeljack smiled.

"I like your attitude," he said. "You know, I never considered a job in law enforcement. I wasn't even sure Iacon had an actual police force."

"Rest assured, it does," Doubletake said. "It's comprised of me and about six others. And then there are a bunch of bureaucrats who oversee what we do and, more often than not, get in the way. That's what happens in peace-time. Everyone gets so afraid of doing the dirty work to keep the peace because they're worried it'll start another war or something." He shook his head, the thought one that very obviously greatly irritated him. "Everything we do has to go through the system."

"Does Magnus have anything to do with you guys?"

"Hardly. He's relegated law enforcement over to some more bureaucratically-minded friends of his." Doubletake smiled at Wheeljack then. "You should talk to him about it some time. Tell him we need a bit more leeway with how we deal with Decepticon troublemakers. He might listen to you."

"Listen? Sure, he'll listen to me. Doesn't mean he'll agree." Wheeljack could understand the attitude, as much as he disagreed with it. Ultra Magnus had been burdened with leading the rebuilt city of Iacon (and Cybertron in general, even if the Autobot capital was the only city actually populated to any significant extent). He had help, but he could not do everything. And trying to keep the peace when a large chunk of the population were ex-Decepticons was a difficult task in itself. Trying to find peaceful solutions for any problems the Decepticons in the city gave was necessary, to prevent old grudges from coming to the fore again.

"I think he'll probably change his mind now," Wheeljack added. "He'd be an idiot not to, after what's happened."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps, metal clanking against metal, noises that grew in volume as their origin neared the control room. Wheeljack turned to face the open doorway, his optics widening in surprise at the sight of Skystreaker. She had rushed into the room, a fearful look in her red optics. Doubletake looked to her as well, still rolling the emergency flare between his metal teeth.

"Where the hell have you been?" Wheeljack asked, some slight anger seeping into his voice. It faded quickly and instead he gave her a fairly blithe look, his next words reeking of sarcasm: "You almost broke my spark, babe. At least leave a goodbye note next time."

Skystreaker gave him a disgusted look in return.

"I think there are more pressing issues at hand," she replied. "Like the half a dozen Decepticons I just saw ground-bridge in nearby."

Doubletake appropriately narrowed his optics. Wheeljack felt some surprise, sure, but at the same time he had been expecting something like this to occur. It had only been a matter of time before their enemies found them. The fact that it was Decepticons and not humans this time would make for a welcome change, or return to the norm depending on how one looked at it. The thought of taking down some Decepticons actually warmed him. The fact that they were outnumbered and outgunned only made him all the more excited.

"What were you doing outside?" Wheeljack asked.

"I was flying," Skystreaker replied. "I'm not a prisoner here, am I? I have to stretch my wings once in a while. I'll probably go mad if I'm kept cooped up for too long."

"And that'll make a difference how?"

Skystreaker ignored Wheeljack's remark. Doubletake had shifted his right arm into a compact submachine gun, sleek and painted white to match his overall paint scheme. Wheeljack figured he should at least get ready for whatever fight awaited them, so he took his sword in his right hand and his hold-out pistol in his left.

"You said six 'Cons, right?" Doubletake asked.

"Yeah. They ground-bridged in over the ridge nearby."

"They might have tracked our scanner's signal," Doubletake said. "I did what I could to hide it, but there was always a chance it could happen."

"What do you suggest?" Wheeljack turned to Doubletake. "Staying in here would be suicide. All they have to do is toss in a few grenades, bring this whole place down. It's falling apart as it is."

"We'll go outside," Doubletake replied. "We have no other choice."

Doubletake did not waste anymore time. He moved past Skystreaker and headed out into the corridor, leaving both Wheeljack and the Decepticon flyer to follow him. Wheeljack looked over to Skystreaker as they walked through the dimly lit and mostly dirty corridor. She avoided his gaze at first until finally their optics met and she rolled hers with disdain.

"What do you want?" She asked.

"I'm still trying to work you out," Wheeljack answered. This was true enough. Skystreaker might have been abrasive and snarky, perhaps a mirror image of himself as much as he hated thinking about it, yet there were some things about her he could not pinpoint. "Was I just a good lay to you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Skystreaker said.

The trio emerged from the wreck of the Harbinger and into the light of morning. There were thick clouds above, grey and strangely ominous. A cold wind billowed through the valley, kicking up some sand as it went. Doubletake had stopped nearby, standing to the left of the makeshift scanner dish. Across the valley, about one hundred metres ahead, stood five Decepticons. Wheeljack watched each of them carefully, taking in each of their mostly neutral faces and the weapons they carried. Up above, on one of the cliff-faces, another Decepticon shifted into view. This one carried a large rifle. Most of the Decepticons were grey and silver in colour, save the one standing at the front. This one was a yellow-gold in colour with purple shoulders and blazing yellow optics. Unlike his compatriots, he did not have a weapon grasped in his hands. He stepped forwards, gesturing to the others to follow, closing the distance towards the three Autobots.

Doubletake raised his submachine gun, keeping it trained on the lead Decepticon of the group. Wheeljack figured that the sniper up on the cliff was the most immediate concern. If a fire-fight started he would have to take him out first, somehow. His hold-out pistol was likely not fit for such a task.

"I know this one," Doubletake said. The lead Decepticon heard this and smiled broadly, baring a set of jagged metal teeth. He then bowed mockingly, exaggerating his arm movements in a clownish manner.

"Oh, Security Chief Doubletake!" The Decepticon stood upright and opened his arms, as if he wanted to embrace the Autobot. "I thought you were on Cybertron."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm here," Doubletake said.

"You know this 'Con?" Wheeljack asked.

Doubletake did not take his eyes away from the Decepticon ahead of him as he spoke, quickly and to the point. "His name's Dragstrip. I arrested him five years ago. Threw him in the slammer for weapons smuggling. He escaped." Doubletake added this last part with considerable derision.

"And General Cyclonus was kind enough to take me in," Dragstrip said. He maintained his smile as he regarded the two Autobots and one ex-Decepticon flyer. He apparently found the three of them amusing to look at, judging from the way he chuckled. "So, we have a cop, a Wrecker and a traitor. Quite the combination, I must say. How many guns you got between the lot of you? Two? My squad's got ten times that."

"Good," Wheeljack said. Dragstrip peered at him curiously. "We'll be sure to take them off your corpses once you're all dead."

Dragstrip clapped his hands together, still smiling. Behind him, his four friends readied their weapons while the sniper up on the valley ridge took up position amongst some boulders.

"I could get to like you," Dragstrip said teasingly, pointing one finger to Wheeljack. "That is, if I didn't need to kill you. Though I'll be sure to mount your head on my wall. I like the way it looks, with the fins and all."

Wheeljack glanced towards the sniper. He got the impression that the Decepticon was sighting in on him. There was very little cover to speak of, so once the shooting started he knew he would have to act quickly if he did not want his head getting blown off.

"We gonna fight or what?" Wheeljack asked, returning his attention to Dragstrip.

"Why even bother?" Dragstrip inquired. "You've got no chance. I could have reinforcements here in minutes..."

Wheeljack did not let him finish. He raised his hold-out pistol and fired, a white beam lancing forth from the barrel. Once this happened, things became very chaotic.

 

nice interaction between Jack and Raf, especially highlighting the war aspect and how easy it is to have a go at an opposing opinion. Sorry to see Fowler go, he will be missed.  

Wheeljack vs Drag Strip. HA !!!! This should be fun ! And why didn't Wheeljack sign up to be a police bot in the first place ?

 

Thanks for the comments.

With Fowler, I did not make the decision lightly. In my original plan, he lived through it, but it occurred to me that after the shootout in the house he no longer had anything to do. And people complained that the show never took any chances and put the heroes in actual peril, so I thought a death or two might raise the stakes.

As for Wheeljack being a police bot, I don't think he could stand the bureaucracy of it all.

 

So true. I remember the hype of rumors about Smokescreen becoming BH Optimus. Bulkhead's survival I dislike because well, Tox-En poisoning, still able to beat Hardshell, and getting shot in the back was too much of a stretch.
Wheeljack saved from Hardshell because of the Miko Machina.

well basically, having Fowler die is sort of like having Roger Murtaugh from Lethal Weapon die after saying "I'm too old for this sh*t"

 

And hey, I'm a strong supporter of good storytelling, especially being articulate and/or efficient

 

The next chapter:
------------------------------

Warrior Zealot

Bumblebee had to raise his one good arm hurriedly, swivelling the shotgun around in his grip so that the firing end was in his hand. He held it above him, batting away the powerful overhead blow Star Saber sent down with his bladed staff. The Autobot had to grind his feet against the metal floor to properly absorb the strike, yet with only one arm he could not parry it, only slightly redirect it so that the bladed end fell somewhat to his right. Instead of hitting him in the head like it would have had he not deflected, it instead slashed through the armour at his right shoulder, sending a stinging pain across his chest. He grunted and quickly side-stepped the rest of the strike, with Star Saber stepping past him as his momentum carried him a few steps forwards.

Bumblebee swung his shotgun like a club, but Star Saber turned to face him with alarming speed, his staff gripped in both hands as he batted the gun away and sent it flying clean out of the Autobot's grasp. It clanked upon the floor several metres away, well out of reach. Star Saber spun his staff around and sent forwards a sharp thrust. Bumblebee dodged the double-pronged blades so that they swept by his left shoulder. His one hand reached out to grab hold of the weapon, but Star Saber kicked him in the lesser armoured stomach, knocking him backwards and sending him falling against a computer terminal. The top panel was smashed under his weight, sparks flying out and the holographic display switching off abruptly. Star Saber lunged forwards, sweeping the bladed staff from around his right. Bumblebee, despite the pain he was feeling, ducked underneath the sweeping attack and tackled Star Saber head on. His spark was pounding wildly, as it often did in the heat of battle. He had learned long ago to control his fear, even when the odds were sorely stacked against him. It might have been two against one, but he could already see that Star Saber would not be an easy opponent.

As for Knock Out, the former Decepticon doctor stood some distance away. He had his pistol raised, though he seemed conflicted as to whether to take a shot. He was likely worried he would hit Bumblebee by accident. His margin for error became even narrower as Bumblebee knocked Star Saber off of his feet through the tackle, only for the Autobot zealot to throw him aside as if he weighed close to nothing. Bumblebee found himself hitting the floor a short distance away, landing on his side while Star Saber jumped back onto his feet.

Knock Out fired a shot then, the red blast of energy flying wide a few inches of Star Saber's frame. The Autobot turned to face him as he fired again. However, Star Saber swept his staff in front of him, deflecting the bolt of energy, sending it flying completely wide before it struck the far wall. He closed the distance between the two of them quickly and Knock Out could do little but step backwards, his red optics wide as Star Saber pressed the bladed staff forwards. Knock Out may not have been the most experienced combatant, but his hurried and uncoordinated somersault to one side saved him from getting impaled. Star Saber followed him, swinging his staff around, the blades swiping across Knock Out's back. They cut through his back armour like butter and Knock Out let out a yelp.

Bumblebee was on his feet by this point and rushed for Star Saber, getting to him before he could inflict anymore harm upon Knock Out. He jumped and let forth a powerful kick that caught Star Saber in the chest, making him stumble backwards a few steps. Bumblebee fell backwards in such a way that he was able to bounce off of his one hand, allowing him to right himself quickly, even if extra effort was needed since he had only the one arm. His stump of a right one was not a whole lot of help in the current situation.

"Knock Out, get the ground-bridge working!" He shouted. Knock Out rose groggily to his feet as Star Saber lunged for Bumblebee. The Decepticon doctor got the message, nodding his head before he started making a run for the main control panel.

"I am impressed you have been able to overcome your disability so quickly," Star Saber said. He spun his staff around in one hand, causing Bumblebee to instinctively take a step back. He stood in a ready pose, waiting for whatever attacks Star Saber sent his way. At the bulkhead door of the control room, the Decepticon soldiers outside had ceased pounding upon it. They were likely in the process of attempting other means of getting it open, whether it was by manipulation of circuitry or simply blasting it energy weaponry.

"I am curious to see how you would fare with both arms missing," Star Saber added. His voice was its usual stern tone, as if the fight was not exerting him at all. Bumblebee, on the other hand, felt utterly strained. He was surprised he had been able to get this far without collapsing.

Star Saber stepped forwards, sweeping his staff to the left. Bumblebee ducked, but the attack was a feint that Star Saber was quick to turn around, bringing the non-bladed end up from underneath so that it connected painfully upon Bumblebee's face. Falling backwards, Bumblebee's head was wracked with a throbbing that seemed to rattle everything above his neck. His back hit a metal pillar and he was quick to steady himself upon it, though he did not get much chance to recover from the strike before Star Saber was upon him again. He ducked underneath another sweeping attack that sent the double-pronged blade scraping loudly across the metal pillar.

Bumblebee ducked to the left, moving around Star Saber. From what he could tell, this Autobot's fighting style was reliant upon sweeping blows, ones that would likely be lethal if received directly, as well as the occasional feint. It was a style of fighting that looked oddly elegant yet was very aggressive, a contrast to the usually brutal and unrefined styles that most Decepticons fought with. As for Bumblebee, he had always been reliant on speed and agility; going in, getting a few quick blows in before backing off had been his modus operandi for a long time. That was not working out so well with him right now, with only the one arm and an overall weakened physical state to contend with.

Star Saber turned to face Bumblebee as the Autobot warrior went to punch him. He deflected the blow with his staff, swatting Bumblebee's arm aside before bringing the bladed end of the staff down. Bumblebee jumped backwards, the blades missing him by less than an inch, but Star Saber spun the staff around quickly. The bottom end whacked Bumblebee in the side, sending a sharp reverberating pain through his torso. He jumped away from the follow-up, putting a few metres worth of space between him and his opponent.

At the door, the Decepticon soldiers in the corridor outside had taken to firing their weapons at it.The combined energy weapons fire was beginning to visibly heat the metal. The centre point had begun to glow somewhat red in colour, but at the rate this patch was expanding it would likely be several more minutes before the metal began to melt. However, there was an explosion upon the door at that point; someone had used a rocket launcher of some sort, sending a missile straight into the gradually heating section of the door. The whole thing shook in its housing and the thump of the explosion echoed loudly throughout the control room.

Knock Out worked frantically at the control panel. For whatever reason he did not appear to be having any luck. Bumblebee shot a glance at him, one that spelled out his need for him to hurry.

"There's some sort of lockout active," Knock Out called to him from across the room. "I'm doing my best to get past it. Have patience, Bumblebee."

Easy for you to say. Bumblebee circled Star Saber, his opponent moving to face him at all times. Again, Star Saber spun his blade around with expert finesse before pointing the bladed end in Bumblebee's direction. Bumblebee bounced on his feet, waiting for Star Saber to attempt another attack. Even with the aching in his joints and the burning pain at his wounds, Bumblebee remained defiant. He was going to get through this, he would not let some whack-job religious zealot take him down.

---------------------------

The shot from Wheeljack's hold-out pistol hit Dragstrip in the shoulder, burning a hole through his armour before it sent him falling backwards. He lost the smug look on his face immediately, hitting the ground where he proceeded to clutch at the newly received wound with one hand while groaning in agony.

"Open fire!" He shouted angrily from where he lay. "Kill them!"

Wheeljack saw the four Decepticons ahead raise their weapons and he dived, landing behind the makeshift scanner dish. Doubletake opened fire at the Decepticons ahead right as they did, his submachine gun sending forth high velocity rounds at an incredible rate. One of the Decepticons was riddled with the rounds whereas the others sent a hail of red bolts the trio's way. As for the Decepticon with the rifle on the ridge to the left, he took aim and sent a powerful bolt of blue-white energy towards the trio that struck the sand near Wheeljack.

Wheeljack rolled behind the makeshift scanner. Doubletake backed off towards the entrance to the Harbinger wreck, remaining stalwart despite the volume of fire coming his way. Skystreaker, on the other hand, had no weapons and instead transformed rapidly. Within seconds she was in her Cybertronian jet form and she went roaring over Wheeljack, rising quickly over the valley while some of the Decepticons shifted their fire towards her. None of them were able to score a hit at the speed she was going and their attentions were quickly returned to both Doubletake and Wheeljack.

Dragstrip had shifted his right arm into a cannon and had stood up, taking a shot at Wheeljack as the Wrecker peered around the scanner dish. The shot slammed into the ground near him, showering him with dirt and sand. He stuck his head back into cover, aware that the Decepticon sniper was taking aim at him from upon the ridge. The next rifle shot hit the scanner dish, causing it to explode violently, sparks and metal debris falling upon Wheeljack where he lay. He brought his battle-plate across his face, covering all but his optics while he considered his next course of action.

Outnumbered and outgunned, he might have enjoyed himself more had he had more weapons. As for the Decepticon squad, they seemed confident in their victory and remained out in the open, firing their weapons at both him and Doubletake. The Autobot cop had gone prone by the entrance, placing himself in a slight dip in the valley floor. He had turned his attention towards the Decepticon sniper, sending a volley of submachine gun fire his way that pounded into the boulders around him and caused him to duck into cover momentarily.

Wheeljack took aim with his pistol through the narrow gap underneath the housing the scanner dish had been upon, prior to its destruction. He glimpsed Dragstrip's legs some distance away as the Decepticon made his way back towards his comrades. Wheeljack fired a shot, the beam clipping Dragstrip in the left leg. This caused the Decepticon to fall to his knees where he let out a shout, his face contorting with a mix anger and pain.

One of the Decepticons had started racing around the right, likely in an attempt to flank the pair of Autobots. Wheeljack leaned around the wrecked scanner dish and started shooting, two bolts of energy hitting home on the Decepticon soldier's torso. The soldier fell forwards, his momentum carrying him a short distance as he collapsed upon the sand, still alive but likely in a great deal of agony. Wheeljack fired twice more as the Decepticon went to pick himself up, planting a blast in the side that blew a chunk out of his armour and sent energon fluid spurting forth. The second shot hit the soldier in the side of the head, burning straight through the armoured helm. The Decepticon soldier fell limp on the sand and went motionless.

Doubletake was effectively pinned down where he was, bolts of red energy hammering the ground near him. He stuck his submachine gun over the top of the ditch and fired blindly, causing the remaining Decepticons to scatter as they sought what little cover there was on the valley floor. The sniper on the ridge sent another powerful plasma rifle blast at the pair of Autobots, this one striking the ground near Doubletake. He ducked his head down as dirt showered upon him, the impact leaving a small smouldering crater at the top of the ditch.

The roar of a jet engine became audible then and Wheeljack peeked around the wrecked scanner dish, watching with some surprise as Skystreaker came roaring in from above. She unfolded herself from her vehicle mode before landing upon the ridge a short distance behind the Decepticon sniper. Within seconds she was upon him, lunging forwards and knocking him over. Wheeljack found himself taken in by the sight of the brawl as Skystreaker locked her hands against the Decepticon's rifle and the pair began to struggle for it, both of them rolling between the boulders on the ridge-top. Skystreaker punched the Decepticon across the face multiple times before she finally snatched the rifle from his grip, causing him to visibly panic as she stood up and pointed it down at him. She did not waste any time pulling the trigger, the shot powerful enough to blow the Decepticon soldier's head apart, splattering bright blue energon fluid across the nearby boulders.

At least Wheeljack could be certain that Skystreaker could actually fight. She was quick to turn the rifle against the Decepticons on the ground, sending a shot into the back of one that blew a large chunk out of his armour. He fell forwards, landing in a heap on the sand. The other two Decepticons turned their guns towards her, opening fire while Dragstrip continued to shoot his arm cannon at Wheeljack and Doubletake. He was limping now, energon fluid trickling down his leg from where the Wrecker had shot him. He was also talking, no doubt into his comms, as he continued to move around to the right in an attempt to get a clean shot off at Wheeljack.

"I need reinforcements!" He shouted, frustration lacing his voice. "What do you mean you can't send them? Forget the ground-bridge. Just send them on a damn transport!"

"Things not working out for you, Dragstrip?" Wheeljack shouted from behind the wrecked scanner dish. Dragstrip let out an angered snarl and continued shooting, one of the shots hitting the ground near Wheeljack's head. He ducked his head, getting showered with yet more dirt. As he recovered, Dragstrip pulled a grenade from his hip and armed it before sending the device sailing through the air with a fairly powerful throw.

Wheeljack saw it land a short distance away and immediately he was on his feet. He dived in the opposite direction of the grenade, tensing up as he awaited the inevitable detonation.

-----------------------------

"I've got it!" Knock Out exclaimed. The ground-bridge opened up then, the swirling green mass of energy casting an eerie glow across the room. Bumblebee had no opportunity to celebrate in any fashion, as he was promptly sent flying halfway across the room from a blow that Star Saber sent into his chest, a sharp kick that took the Autobot off of his feet.

Bumblebee hit the floor and slid a few metres, hitting the fallen Decepticon he had blasted upon entering the room. Star Saber began to move towards him quickly, spinning his bladed staff around in an intimidating fashion. Bumblebee rolled over the dead Decepticon and quickly examined the body, his optics falling upon the blaster clipped to the Decepticon's waist. There were two grenades as well, one of which Bumblebee grabbed. As for Knock Out, he vaulted over the railing near the control panel and started to run for the ground bridge portal.

Bumblebee rose to his feet, only to duck under another swing from Star Saber's staff. He responded by kicking the imposing Autobot in the stomach, causing him to take a few steps backwards, a movement that gave Bumblebee the chance to snatch the blaster off of the dead Decepticon at his feet. He began to back away, heading for the ground bridge, all the while keeping the blaster pistol aimed at Star Saber. Pulling the trigger, he fired a red bolt of energy, one that Star Saber swatted away with his staff with surprising ease.

Knock Out did not hesitate to jump into the swirling ground-bridge. Bumblebee, several metres behind him, considered his options. Another loud thump came from the door leading into the control room, the Decepticons on the other side coming ever closer to forcing it open. Star Saber stood ahead of him, holding his bladed staff at the ready. Bumblebee put the blaster to his waist and pulled the grenade he had taken off of the Decepticon. It was a typical model, high explosive, cylindrical in shape and built of black metal with a green indicator on the side. With a flick of the wrist he had armed it, the green light turning into a red one. He considered throwing it to Star Saber, but it was obvious that the Autobot zealot would easily get clear of the explosion. So, he opted for what he saw to be the next best thing.

Star Saber watched him, his optics portraying a neutral, if somewhat scowling, gaze. He was likely trying to determine exactly what Bumblebee was hoping to achieve with the grenade. Not that he would have to wait much longer to find out, as Bumblebee used his one good arm to send the grenade sailing through the air in the direction of the ground-bridge control terminal. As soon as he had done this, he turned and started to run for the portal. Star Saber saw what was coming and, in the few seconds he had to do something about it, realised that he could certainly not prevent the detonation. Instead, he focused his attention onto Bumblebee, who was on the verge of entering the ground-bridge portal at that point.

Bumblebee turned to take one last look at Star Saber in the second before the grenade detonated. Standing on the verge of the portal, he watched as Star Saber raised his blades staff as if it were a javelin and threw it. Bumblebee jumped into the portal then, feeling the staff fly over him, missing by mere inches as he fell into the mass of green and blue energy.

The grenade exploded, the portal shutting off abruptly. The force of the explosion knocked Star Saber onto the floor, flame enveloping the main terminal before the entire thing shattered from the concussive force of the blast. Metal fragments rained down across the control room and smoke filled the air, red warning lights switching on across the ship in response to the damage. The portal had vanished and Bumblebee had gone, leaving the control room empty save for Star Saber. The Autobot zealot easily rose back onto his feet. He looked about the room and surveyed the damage done, if only briefly, before he heard the door behind him finally open.

He heard Cyclonus' voice before he saw the Decepticon General.

"What in the name of the Allspark happened in here, Star Saber?" Cyclonus demanded. He did not sound pleased. Star Saber turned to face him; he and the three guards he had brought in with him. "And what is this I hear about you sending some of my soldiers to attack the Autobots? Did you neglect to share that plan, Star Saber? Did you think you could simply go over my head, on board my ship?" Cyclonus, who was usually stern yet reserved, sounded to be on the verge of rage. Star Saber cared little for how the Decepticon General felt. If he was not willing to do what was necessary to ensure the success of their plans, then Star Saber would do it all himself.

---------------------------------

Bumblebee had landed in sand and amongst rock, the sky above partially overcast and the air around him moderately cool. Somewhere nearby, he could hear weapons fire. And just in front of him, lying sprawled in the sand, was Knock Out. However, upon looking up to see the former Decepticon he noticed immediately that something was very wrong.

Knock Out had likely turned to face the portal in anticipation of Bumblebee's arrival. As a result, the bladed staff that Star Saber had thrown like a javelin, intended for Bumblebee, had instead missed the Autobot and gone through the portal with him. And, coming out of the end of it, the bladed end had found a home embedded in Knock Out's chest, the rest of the staff pointing skywards as Knock Out lay still on the sand. Bumblebee, despite the pain from his many injuries, scrambled onto his feet and rushed to Knock Out's side. Knock Out's red optics were still open and by all appearances he was still alive, although now in a sorry state with the double-pronged blade at the end of the staff jammed into his chest. Blue energon leaked out from around the blades and a slight trace was spilling from the corner of Knock Out's mouth. There was likely far more internal damage than immediate appearances might have indicated.

"Knock Out," Bumblebee said. He felt his spark turn cold. This was not how he had envisioned their escape. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." He put a hand to the blades but a yelp from Knock Out in response to the touch was enough to make him draw that hand away quickly.

"I think...this one was...meant for you." Knock Out looked up at him and put on a weak smile.

"You're a doctor," Bumblebee said. "Tell me how to help." It was a feeble gesture, he knew this much. They only needed to get him some proper medical attention. This would be difficult, since from what he could see they were nowhere near a working space-bridge to take them to Cybertron. The only Cybertronian doctor they had in reach was Knock Out, and he was barely in a position to help himself.

"It's...in my spark," Knock Out replied. He spoke matter-of-factly, as if what was essentially death did not concern him much. This was a surprise, since Knock Out had always made it clear he did not enjoy putting himself into harm's way. Bumblebee would have thought that death was the one thing that would frighten the Decepticon doctor to his very core. "You...can't help me." He coughed then, sending a spittle of blue energon flying up and onto Bumblebee's neck and chest.

"Don't give up on me," Bumblebee said. He put aside his blaster pistol and put his one hand to Knock Out's chin, tilting his head so that their optics met. "You might be a pain in the aft, but you're a good pain in the aft. We didn't come this far just so you could go and die on me now." He did his best to keep his tone strong, to try and put some positivity forth so that Knock Out might have felt more inclined to hold on. Yet, even Bumblebee knew that mere positive talk could not heal Knock Out's wounds.

Knock Out convulsed then, causing Bumblebee's optics to widen, startled. He moved forwards, trying to hold the former Decepticon in place as his body shook and limbs flailed. Knock Out grunted through a clenched jaw as this played out, energon fluid spurting out of his mouth, his grunting giving way to a gargle as energon fluid caught upon his voicebox. The noise grated upon Bumblebee's audio receptors, chilling him to the core as he watched a friend die.

"Hang on," Bumblebee barked. Knock Out was past the point of being aware of his surroundings. His red optics stared skywards as his body shook the last of its life out of its form. "Damn it, Knock Out!" Bumblebee raised his voice now, his control slipping. Everything that had happened to him in the last couple of days, all that pain and despair, finally came to the forefront and those emotions he had been bottling out exploded out of him like a fountain. "Not now! Not like this!" That should be him on the ground. That should be him with the blades stuck in him, not Knock Out. A cruel twist of fate had sent them into Knock Out instead. Had Bumblebee not dodged the way he had...

"Knock Out," Bumblebee said. The Decepticon had fallen limp. His red optics had lost their glow and were devoid of life, his head tilted to one side with his face now carrying a blank expression. Bumblebee felt despair shoot through him like a bullet, stinging at his spark as he put a hand to his face and swallowed what emotions he could. There was nothing left for him to do here. Knock Out was gone.

From somewhere further down the valley, Bumblebee could hear the sounds of battle. He knew then that he could not stay here, there was no time for mourning. The Autobots needed his help.

-------------------------------

Wheeljack had been knocked into the dirt by the grenade explosion. Nonetheless, he recovered quickly, his optics going to Dragstrip who was limping around the right flank. Up on the ridge, Skystreaker continued to use her newly acquired rifle to fire on the two Decepticon soldiers ahead, both of whom had scattered in an attempt to find cover on the mostly flat valley floor. Wheeljack, still on the ground, raised his holdout pistol and took another shot at Dragstrip. This one blew a chunk out of his left arm, causing the Decepticon to fall over as he put one arm to the new wound and shouted in pain. That was three searing holes Wheeljack had shot into him, though none had struck anything important, unfortunately. Wheeljack hoped to rectify this in short order. Dragstrip, however, rose to his feet and returned fire, causing Wheeljack to roll down into the same ditch Doubletake had been laying low in for the duration of the fire-fight.

Doubletake glanced over to him, keeping his head down as Dragstrip kept shooting. A few bolts of energy struck the top of the ditch, showering the pair with dirt. Wheeljack checked his hold-out pistol, noticing that the charge indicator had fallen into the red. He did not have the means to recharge it, as something like that would only be on Cybertron.

That would be about right, he mused. He looked over to Doubletake. The Autobot cop appeared to be having no problems with his weapons. Wheeljack only had a sword and the signal beacon he had salvaged. At this point, all he could think of doing was turning to using his sword. The difficulty was that he would need to close the distance for that.

"Doubletake, could you cover me?" Wheeljack asked. The Autobot cop looked over to him curiously. "I'm going to go shove my sword up Dragstrip's aft, if that's all right with you."

"Go ahead," Doubletake replied. He rolled the emergency flare between his teeth as he spoke. "I'll keep the other ones off of you."

Wheeljack nodded. He put his holdout blaster to his waist, his sword clutched in his right hand as he rose over the top of the ditch. Dragstrip was still limping around the side, firing his arm cannon recklessly in the general direction of the two Autobots. As a result, his aim was not the best, making it all the more easier for Wheeljack to start running straight for him. The other two Decepticons were tied up with Doubletake's covering fire, only for Skystreaker to shoot one of them in the head anyway. This one hit the ground with the head practically gone, a smouldering stump in its place.

Wheeljack charged for Dragstrip, moving his sword quickly to deflect the few bolts of red energy that would have hit him. Dragstrip appeared to panic, his optics widening as the Autobot Wrecker closed upon him. He had little time to react when Wheeljack bowled into him, knocking him into the dirt. He went to plunge his sword into Dragstrip's stomach but a thought occurred to him, a brainwave of sorts that, if it worked, would prove to be one of his best ideas yet. Still, it was a long shot and he did not have much time to enact it.

He pulled the signal beacon from where it had been clipped to his waist, a twist of one section enough to take it apart. From within, he pulled out the small cylinder that comprised the main part of the device, the beacon itself, without the protective shell around it. Now with Dragstrip below him, Wheeljack stuck his sword into the Decepticon's chest, slicing open a gash that oozed blue energon and caused Dragtrsip to emit an agonized yelp.

With his other hand, he rammed the small finger-length cylinder into the gash, cramming it in as far as he could reach. He pulled out his hand, now sticky with Dragstrip's life energon, only for the Decepticon to push him off of him with one powerful shove. Wheeljack landed on his side on the sand a short distance away, watching as Dragstrip picked himself up and looked down at his newly created wound with a horrified expression. He had not noticed Wheeljack cram the beacon into his chest, as far as he was concerned the Autobot Wrecker had just tried to mutilate him. He looked towards the other Decepticon, who was abruptly gunned down by Doubletake as the Autobot cop emerged from the ditch nearby. Dragstrip made his decision then and quickly transformed, taking the shape of a purple Earth sports car before he sent his engines into high gear and wheels spinning, a thick cloud of sand erupting behind him.

Before Doubletake could take a shot at him, Dragstrip went tearing off through the valley. He fled the battlefield like any coward, the odds turned against him, his advantage of numbers and firepower gone. Wheeljack could only smile as he watched the Decepticon flee. He rose to his feet and sheathed his sword, looking over to Doubletake as he did so. The Autobot cop appeared to be about to give chase, but Wheeljack stepped in front of him.

"Don't bother," he said.

"You want him to get away?" Doubletake raised an optic ridge. Even he knew Wheeljack was not one to let an enemy slip away if the chance to stop them was there.

"Trust me," Wheeljack replied. "He'll lead us straight to his friends. Then we'll kill the lot of them." He maintained his smile, although Doubletake remained unconvinced. Nonetheless, he did not give chase after Dragstrip. Instead, he looked out over the battlefield and at the five dead Decepticons lying about. Wheeljack followed his gaze and knew exactly what he would do next.

He made his way to the nearest dead Decepticon and gave him a once-over, stripping him of the three grenades he had been carrying at the waist. As for the onboard weapons, removing those would be a more complicated affair. By the look of it, there were three side-arms, one rifle that Skystreaker now carried and a sort of fusion cannon that had been dropped by the Decepticon squad. Several grenades were in the mix as well. As for the normal energy cannons some of them carried, they were all contained within their arms and harder to remove. Wheeljack took up the fusion cannon; it was a long bulky thing with an air-cooled barrel, hence the small holes along its length. The power pack was close to fully charged, so he would at least gain some use out of it before it would need a recharge. He put the weapon at his back, held in place by a set of magnetic clips.

Skystreaker came down from the top of the ridge, clasping the heavy rifle in her hands. She had a satisfied smirk on her face. Apparently she found the fighting as exciting as Wheeljack did.

"Was that fun or what?" She asked. Doubletake kept a straight face and said nothing. Wheeljack, on the other hand, smiled back at her.

"You were actually helpful for once," he said. Skystreaker rolled her optics upon hearing this.

"I actually had a gun this time around."

"That's no excuse," Wheeljack countered. "I've killed 'Cons with my bare hands. Guns simplify things, sure, but sometimes I feel like they lack that personal touch..."

Doubletake was looking off to his left now, his face changing into a grave expression.

"Hey, you two," he interrupted. He pointed down the valley. "We've got company."

"Cons?" Wheeljack asked, impulsively. He followed Doubletake's gaze and saw the familiar yellow and black figure striding towards them. It was immediately apparent that this new arrival was not a Decepticon. However, there was something not quite right here: the figure was dragging someone else along the ground behind them with one arm. Wheeljack realised then that this familiar Autobot only had his left arm, for his right had been reduced to a stump just after the elbow.

"Bumblebee," he said. He did not wait for Skystreaker or Doubletake to react and instead started running towards the yellow Autobot. As he closed the distance, he could see that Bumblebee was a mess. His body was marred with gashes and dents, with some hasty patchwork done over some of the more serious wounds. Energon stains streaked his form. His posture was slightly hunched, his exhaustion apparent in the sluggish movements he took. As Wheeljack neared, Bumblebee stopped moving and let go of the familiar red and silver arm he had been holding onto. The red figure, similarly dented and gashed, lay still on the dirt behind him.

"Bumblebee," Wheeljack said again, relieved to see he was at least alive. "What the hell happened?" He felt awkward at that point, for he was not sure just what to ask and whether or not anything he said would be adequate anyway. Bumblebee looked like he had gone through hell and back, and he likely had needed to in order to get here.

Bumblebee took one look at Wheeljack, his large blue optics filled with weariness. He took a step forwards, only to lose his balance, his legs failing underneath his weight. Wheeljack stepped forwards and caught him, holding him steady with both arms as Bumblebee fell to his knees. He knelt down with him, looking him in the optics as he moved.

"What's happened?" Wheeljack asked. Behind him, both Doubletake and Skystreaker came running up to him. Bumblebee hardly gave them a second glance. "What did Cyclonus do to you?"

"Not just Cyclonus," Bumblebee finally croaked. "There is someone else. An Autobot."

"What?" Wheeljack frowned. Maybe Bumblebee was simply dazed? He had obviously been through a lot. Far more than any one Autobot should have. It should be no surprise that he might say some things that did not make much sense.

"Star Saber." Bumblebee spoke the name and then turned his head, looking back at the red and silver Cybertronian he had literally dragged along with him. Wheeljack did the same, gazing down at the familiar figure lying upon the sand, the red optics devoid of light.

"Knock Out," Wheeljack said. He let go of Bumblebee, who remained on his knees, while Doubletake walked by the pair and knelt by Knock Out. The former Decepticon had a double-pronged blade stuck in his chest, forming only the tip of a longer staff weapon. Though he had never liked Knock Out much, if only because of his previous Decepticon allegiance and irritating personality, there was still a pang of regret in Wheeljack's spark upon seeing him like this. Doubletake took one look at him and shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on the emergency flare he had been keeping in his mouth since yesterday, doing so in the same sort of way a human may chew absently on a toothpick.

"Who's 'Star Saber'?" Wheeljack asked, returning his attention to Bumblebee. "I mean, we used to have a 'star saber', like the big sword..."

"No. This 'Star Saber' is an Autobot. He's working with Cyclonus." Bumblebee, for what little strength he still had, seemed determined to tell what he knew. "He's the one who killed Knock Out."

Wheeljack clenched his jaw. Traitors were something he hated a great deal. That may have played somewhat into how he had felt about Knock Out upon first hearing of his defection to the Autobot cause, as though the doctor had turned to his side, he was still a 'traitor' and as such could not be trusted. Over the years, Knock Out had proven that he was genuine, even if Wheeljack knew he could never completely trust him.

As for an Autobot working with the Decepticons? That was, in a word, disgusting. The sheer principle of an Autobot turning against their own kind sickened Wheeljack through to the spark. Someone like that was beneath mere contempt. He could see Decepticons betraying each other, they had always squabbled amongst themselves in attempts to rise through the ranks. But an Autobot? That was rare, and those who turned against their own were never treated well if they were ever caught. Optimus Prime had ordered during the war that any traitors captured be given a chance in a fair trial, but the Prime could not be everywhere at once. If regular Autobot soldiers got hold of a traitor in the wake of a battle, a rare event certainly, but when it did occur then the traitor in question was usually killed brutally.

"We should leave," Skystreaker suggested. "More of Cyclonus' Decepticons could be on their way."

"She's right," Doubletake said. He stood up and moved to Bumblebee's side. He placed a reassuring hand to the Autobot's shoulder. "We can't give your friend a proper burial. That would take too long." He did his best to sound understanding, yet even Wheeljack could tell that he was not very good at it.

Wheeljack rose to his feet and walked to where Knock Out lay. He grasped the staff protruding from his chest and pulled, carefully freeing the two-pronged bladed end. A jagged pair of deep gashes had been left in their place. He examined the staff weapon, weighing it in both hands. It was surprisingly light, comprised of a gleaming silver metal. From what he could feel, it was also weighted properly for throwing.

"We'll bury him," Wheeljack stated. Doubletake looked at him, his optics narrowed.

"There's no time..."

"I said, we'll bury him." Wheeljack kept the staff in one hand, holding it off to the side. He shot Doubletake a harsh look, one that more or less told him that he had no say in the matter. "We're not like the 'Cons, Doubletake. We don't just leave our dead out in the desert to rust and weather away." He then grabbed the tip of the spear, tearing the double-pronged tip away before dropping the rest of the weapon. The sharp blades were still stained with Knock Out's energon. Despite this, he figured the spear-head would make a decent close-quarters weapon.

Doubletake said nothing more on the matter. Skystreaker appeared sullen, the mood amongst the group having soured abruptly. Wheeljack looked down at Bumblebee and held out a hand.

"Get up. We'll get started."

 

Safehouse

Unit-E, being a sub-branch of the Defence Intelligence Agency that Agent Fowler had worked for prior to his demise, was an organization that had, as a contingency, put together a number of 'safe-houses' across the nation. The original Unit-E base, outside of Jasper, Nevada, had been destroyed in an attack carried out by Megatron and his Decepticon forces about a decade ago. As a result, the Autobots and their human allies had taken to operating out of a hangar in Area 51, otherwise known as 'Dreamland'. Up until yesterday, that place had been Unit-E's headquarters. Now, what remained of the organization was scattered across the nation and very few of these safehouses, or 'replacement operating centres', were active in any significant fashion.

It had started raining in Carson City. A light shower, though the thick grey clouds overhead indicated it may increase in intensity at some later point in the day. In the northern section of the city, where the density of houses and other buildings thinned out until the desert properly reclaimed the land, were some more isolated properties. It was here that Ultra Magnus found himself, once again taxiing around Jack and Rafael. He was followed by Wildstrike, who in turn was followed by Deadeye, the pair spreading out across the vacant lot up ahead while Ultra Magnus moved to the grey warehouse further down the mostly empty road. As far as the Autobot Commander could tell, there appeared to be no one here. Only one car was parked on the street, outside a small house that was across from the warehouse. Even as he came to a halt, he felt that he was being watched, and not from the warehouse either. The sign out the front of the property indicated it as belonging to a branch of the Department of Health and Human Services. Rafael was quick to point out the lie behind that.

"This is it," he said. "One of Unit-E's fallback positions if Area 51 was ever compromised."

"There's no one here," Jack replied. Ultra Magnus was already in the process of scanning for organics, humans in particular. Aside from a stray cat that went running across the street, there appeared to be no one in the warehouse. The front gate was locked and the parking lot empty. Some distance behind them, further south, was the Carson City Airport. A light plane, mostly white in colour, was in the process of coming in for a landing upon the airport's single runway. Its twin engines droned audibly across the region.

"That doesn't matter," Rafael replied. "I just need to use the computers here."

"So we're breaking in?" Jack pushed open his side's door and Ultra Magnus swung open the other one. Both humans climbed out, stepping into the rain. A cool wind blew through the street, kicking up some paper litter from the gutter close by.

"Wildstrike and I will watch the perimeter," Ultra Magnus said. He pinged her comms, receiving a confirmation ping in reply. He spoke again, this time into his comms: "As for Deadeye, you keep an eye on the street. Alert us if you see anything suspicious."

Ultra Magnus started off the road, going around the warehouse perimeter. Naturally, it was fenced on all sides. Wildstrike went down the opposite side and the pair met up on the dirt road at the rear of the property. Beyond that were the open and mostly dry plains of Nevada, covered in some sporadic clusters of vegetation. The rain that currently fell would likely help to add some more greenery to the vista before them.

"Sir, I don't think there are any other humans around," she said. "I'd like to stretch my legs."

Ultra Magnus had scanned the warehouse and found nothing, so he figured that it was safe for the pair of them to transform. Deadeye would keep watch out the front and though he did not have his guns with him, he would be sure to chime in over their comms and alert them to any new arrivals in the area.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," Ultra Magnus said. "Just stay off the street when in biped form." He transformed at the same time she did, flexing his arms as he stood tall in robot mode. Wildstrike worked her knees a few times.

"You think they'll find anything, sir?" Wildstrike asked suddenly. Ultra Magnus assumed she was referring to their two human friends.

"Maybe. I hope they do. We've spent long enough as it is on the run. We need to catch some sort of break."

"This Taskforce is one thing. Decepticons are another. Could they be really working together?"

Ultra Magnus could only shrug. This was part of the reason why he hoped Jack and Rafael would be able to uncover some helpful information through their trip to the safe-house. At the moment, he knew very little as to why the events of the last forty-eight hours had occurred. He knew he was a fugitive on this world, he knew that Decepticons actively hunted him and that humans did the same through a belief that he and the others had killed their President, but beyond that? He actually knew very little. It irritated him a great deal. Going into combat uninformed and with bad intel was bound to cause disaster. So far, the last day or two had been a disaster in a very literal sense.

Ultra Magnus turned to head back to the eastern perimeter of the warehouse when he heard Wildstrike follow him. He turned around, seeing that she had quickly closed the distance between them.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" He asked. Rainwater was trickling down her frame, as it was on his own. He saw that she seemed sheepish all of a sudden, judging by the anxious smile that crossed her face.

"Sir, I know it may not be appropriate, but part of the reason I volunteered to come to Earth was to make sure you were safe," she explained. "I mean, I don't think I could have lived with myself if anything happened to you and I wasn't there to do something to stop it."

"What's inappropriate about that, Lieutenant? You do your duty and you do it well."

"I mean, Commander, that I was genuinely afraid for your safety. Not just in the 'fellow soldier' sense. But I mean, well...I mean..." She trailed off, struggling to form a cohesive sentence. Ultra Magnus found her sudden uncertainty somewhat amusing but he kept a straight face. He did not want her to feel uncomfortable, certainly not in their current situation. However, he had never seen Wildstrike quite like this before. She was normally confident, even headstrong. Perhaps too much so in some regards, so her anxiety now was certainly odd.

"Speak your mind, Lieutenant," Ultra Magnus said.

"It's inappropriate, sir," she said, looking up at him. "You're my superior officer. I never should have brought it up."

Ultra Magnus leaned his head forwards slightly, keeping his expression neutral. He did have a good idea as to what Wildstrike was trying to get at, but he felt it would be better if she got it out on her own time.

"Brought what up, exactly?"

Wildstrike clasped her hands together, unsure as to where else to place them.
"I have feelings for you, sir. I'll understand if it's not mutual..."

Ultra Magnus interrupted her by placing a hand to her shoulder. It was a reassuring gesture, a sincere one at that.

"Why are you bringing this up now?" He was simply curious. Wildstrike shrugged, uncertain of that herself.

"I've been keeping them bottled up for a while. I just didn't know what you'd think." She paused and their optics met. "Looks like you don't think much of them..." She appeared disappointed, if only fleetingly, before Ultra Magnus simply shook his head in response.

"No, no, Lieutenant. It's best this sort of thing is out in the open. Bottling it up inside doesn't do you any good." He paused, giving himself a moment to consider his response. He would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he felt something for her. Such personal feelings he had often brushed aside, instead setting his mind firmly upon the tasks at hand, and there were many for someone in his position. "There isn't a lot of time for something like this for me. I have a lot of important work I have to do. But I'd be lying if I said the feeling wasn't mutual. It is, Wildstrike. We've been working together for some time now, you've always had my back and it looks like that isn't about to change anytime soon." He took his hand from her shoulder and grabbed both of hers in his own. His bulkier hands cradled her slimmer ones gently. She smirked at him, although she did appear relieved that her spilling her spark out to him had not backfired.

"What now, sir?" She asked, half-jokingly. "I mean, I was almost expecting you to tell me to 'stow it'..."

"We can't do much about it now," Ultra Magnus said. "We get through this, and maybe we can arrange something when we get back to Cybertron."

"Arrange what?"

Ultra Magnus cracked a smile then, the first one in a long while.

"What do you think?"

---------------------------------

Jack came to the gate of the compound, a solid metal one with a large padlock in the centre, keeping both halves of the gate firmly closed. By now, the rain had started in earnest, a light spitting at most. He did not fancy getting caught out in the rain, yet it appeared that getting into the Unit-E safehouse would be tricky. The whole place was very obviously deserted, at least from outside. He did notice a surveillance camera over the gate on the left, one that had sight of the entire driveway. Rafael stood nearby and he lightly rattled one half of the gate. There would be no budging it. As for climbing over, Jack figured that the rolls of barbed wire atop the perimeter fence would make that a painful affair.

"Looks like nobody's home," Rafael said. He looked through the gaps at the gate, surveying the front of the large warehouse. "There are no cars, no guards, nothing."

"You sure this is the right address?" Jack, as he asked this question, glanced over to the sign by the gate. 'Department of Health and Human Services' it read, and underneath: 'Closed For Renovations. For Inquiries, Call 1800 555 777'. This was likely just a front and a quick glance would reveal that there were no renovations going on, at least none on the outside. Jack may have called the number, had he had his phone on him. Thinking about it, he realised that calling the number would likely redirect him to the real Department of Health and Human Servcies, not Unit-E and certainly not the Defence Intelligence Agency that had been in charge of it.

"I'm sure," Rafael replied. He turned to face Jack. "If I wasn't sure, I'd never have got us to come here."

"What do you think? There'll be the computers you need inside?"

"Probably."

"So we break in." Jack looked over to Deadeye, who was parked in his vehicle form further down the street. "We get one of the Autobots to break this gate open. Then, we walk on in and get what we need."

"And you'll probably bring the local police down on us, at least,' Rafael countered. "If this place is empty, there'll be security systems switched on. We could trip something and sound an alarm at some faraway compound. Then your Taskforce will know we've come here."

"It's not 'my' Taskforce," Jack said. He did not try to hide his annoyance. "They've tried to kill me more than once already."

"You worked with them for six months, Jack," Rafael said. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze a scrutinising one. "Did you not notice anything suspicious with them?"

"You think they'd let me in on the 'suspicious' stuff?" Jack did not like Rafael's accusatory tone. It had been subtle, but it was there, he was sure of it. "I didn't think they'd try to kill me, if that's what you're wondering. They were perfectly legitimate. They still kind of are, they just want to kill us. And that's half the problem, because they've got the authority and the support to do just that. But I didn't see anything immediately strange. If I did, do you think I'd have stayed with them? I'd spill the beans on the whole thing. And that's what we have to do now." It was an idea that had only recently developed, one that might lead to more chaos but it was his best bet to rectify the situation that he, Rafael and the Autobots had fallen into.

"We expose the Taskforce. We expose their lies about the Autobots. We expose the sort of black ops stuff they've got going." Jack knew it sounded crazy. The Taskforce had gone to significant lengths to keep its operations secret, relying on benefactors in the government to pay the bills required to cover up a mission that may have happened in a public space.

"You think that'll be enough?" Rafael sounded unconvinced, but neither he nor Jack had any better ideas.

"It'll be a start."

"Won't that just cause more trouble?"

It was a valid question. As much as Jack would have preferred clearing his name in a manner not as blunt, he had since reached the point where he was willing to go to whatever lengths to see the Taskforce and their Decepticon allies get brought down. Exposing them to the general public would be a good start.

"Maybe. But we won't be able to do anything unless we have some hard evidence. That's what you'll get off the computers, Raf. Actual hard evidence we can pass on to the media. And we'll dig up whatever information we can about what they're doing, about what Colonel Carver's planning, anything that'll give us an edge."

"I don't know about this, Jack," Rafael said. His voice was laced with uncertainty. "We've got to be careful. This could blow up in our faces..."

"It already has," Jack interjected. "They burned your house down, Raf. They killed Fowler. They've got Miko and I don't know where they've taken her. If that isn't 'blown up' then I don't know what is." He could not contain the passion he felt regarding the matter, his tone becoming increasingly frustrated as he spoke. "They've smeared our names, they've killed the President. I still don't believe Bumblebee did that. Do you?"

Rafael shook his head.

"And we'll find out who really did it."

Before Jack could add anything more, the sound of a phone ringing interrupted the conversation. It was coming from somewhere further down the street, at a phone booth about fifty metres away, right at the end of the road. Here, there was a dead-end and a ditch overgrown with dry grass. Paper litter and a rusted washing machine had been dumped there, along with numerous empty cans and bottles of booze. Jack looked to the phone and then to Rafael. The pair exchanged bemused looks while the phone continued to ring, over and over again. Finally, Jack mustered up the courage to turn in the phone booth's direction and start walking towards it.

"Jack, are you sure...?" Rafael trailed off as Jack strode away. His question unanswered, Rafael quickly followed after him.

Jack came to the phone booth, where the phone continued to ring. There was no one else on the street save for them. A few houses were across the road, but they appeared to be deserted.

He entered the phone booth and somewhat gingerly grasped the phone, pulling it from its housing before placing it to its ear. As one would expect, there was a fair amount of crude graffiti scrawled about within the phone booth. No surface here was clean either, with dirt clinging to most.

"Hello?" Jack said. He could hear some heavy breathing on the other end. He half-expected the caller to hang up at that moment. However, they did quite the opposite.

"You want in on the warehouse?" The voice asked. It was a man's voice, deep but rough-edged. Stern, authoritative.

"Who is this?"

"I'm asking the questions here." The voice took on a no-nonsense tone. He apparently did not want to waste time. "Now turn around. To your right."

Jack glanced at Rafael, who was standing just outside the phone booth. Rafael simply shrugged and Jack turned to his right, facing the houses across the street.

"I thought it was you, Darby."

"How do you know who I am?" Jack frowned. He hated being in the dark like this. The caller had an advantage over him and was most certainly watching him now, maybe with a rifle pointed right at his chest. He might even have been in any one of the three houses across the street.

"Come to the front door. The house in the middle. Approach with your hands up. I'm not taking any chances."

The caller hung up then, abruptly ending the exchange. Jack placed the phone back upon its housing and turned to Rafael.

"Did you hear that?" He asked. Rafael nodded in the affirmative. "We might have a friend. Or a whack-job. Either one will do."

"You really just going to go along with what he says?"

"You have a better idea?" Jack asked. "I'll take my chances. Just get Deadeye up here."

Rafael nodded before he turned and started to walk away, heading for where Deadeye was parked. Jack began heading for the house in the middle; it was a small, mostly brown brick-and-mortar home. The front lawn was overgrown and the shrubs along the edges had long since gone well out of control. The curtains was drawn across all the windows, although as Jack crossed the street he thought he saw one of them waving slightly, as if someone had been peering through before quickly backing off.

Jack made his way along the cracked, disjointed footpath that lead down the middle of the front lawn and to the steps before the front door. He raised his hands as he had been told, able to feel his .38 revolver sitting snugly under his shirt at his belt. It was in easy enough reach, although its shape was visible with the way his shirt clung tightly to his stomach. Hopefully the mystery caller would not take him being armed too negatively.

The front door swung open as Jack approached. A tall and broad-shouldered African-American man in grey trousers and a blue shirt appeared in the doorway. He had a chrome-plated pump-action shotgun clasped in his hands. He had a thick black moustache under his nose and a stern expression on his face. His dark brown eyes fell upon Jack as the younger man stopped a few metres before the door.

"Where's your friend?" The man asked.

Jack looked back to find Rafael come walking into view, followed by Deadeye who remained in vehicle mode. The man with the shotgun gave the car an extended gaze.

"How many you got with you?" He asked.

"What?"

"Cybertronians. How many you got with you?"

"Three. There are more elsewhere..."

The man motioned to him with one hand.

"Just come in. Your friend as well."

Jack shook his head. The man glared at him with noticeable hostility.

"Hang on a minute. I'm not just going to walk into a stranger's house. Especially into the house of a stranger with a gun."

"I ain't gonna kill you." The man used one hand to fish around in a pocket on his shirt. He pulled out an ID, a Unit-E one at that, and he stepped forwards and handed it to Jack so he could take a close look. "I'm on your side. Current circumstances have encouraged me to take extra precautions."

Jack examined the ID. The man's name was Jacob Williams.

Jack handed it back to him, feeling significant relief as he did so. As long as this was not some kind of sophisticated trick (and one could not be too careful), Jack could feel somewhat safe here. They had come looking for a Unit-E safehouse and they had apparently found one, just not the one they had been expecting.

"How much do you know about what's going on?" Jack asked.

"Enough." Williams again motioned for him to come into the house. "I even got a call last night telling me to shut everything down."

"Did you?"

"In my own way. Now come inside and we can talk."

Williams disappeared back into the house. Jack exchanged glances with Rafael once more.

"You think we can trust him?" Rafael asked.

"Who can we trust?" Jack was having a hard time bringing himself to trust anyone anymore. The Taskforce had betrayed him and anyone they met could easily inform on them. That was the problem with being a fugitive. In the end, the only people you could trust was yourself, and your fellow fugitives.

"Hey, you two," Deadeye called from the street. "What about me?"

"Keep guard out here. And if you hear shouting, don't be afraid to smash your way into the house." With that, Jack followed Williams into his home, with Rafael a short distance behind. Hopefully, Williams would actually prove helpful and maybe, for once, they would be able to shed some light on the situation.

-------------------------------

The house was fairly small, a modest affair at most, filled with a fairly dusty smell. As for dust itself, there was a healthy layer of it on most visible surfaces. The front door opened directly onto a narrow hallway that ran the length of the building, with an open doorway on the left leading into a living room and another door on the right opening onto the kitchen. With all the curtains drawn, the house's interior was fairly dark. Jack found that it felt practically cosy, although he would have preferred it to be tidier. There was clutter here and there, papers and such scattered about. The television in the living room was switched on and several DVD cases were stacked near it. A significantly younger Clint Eastwood was currently on-screen as the film Magnum Force came to an end.

Williams closed the front door and moved into the living room. He switched off the television before retrieving a carton of cigarettes from the table by the sofa. He pulled out one, stuck it in his mouth and picked up a cheap plastic lighter from the same table. Jack followed him into the living room, unsure of what to make of the place now, especially with the stench of tobacco stuck to everything.

"You need my help," Williams said, turning to face Jack. He lit the end of his cigarette, stowing the carton and lighter in a pocket at his trousers.

"Can you give it?"

"Maybe. That depends on what you want."

"We need the computers that are in that safehouse." Jack figured it would be best to get straight to business.

"That's all?" Williams raised an eyebrow.

"They'd be powerful enough for Rafael to get into the Taskforce's systems. We need to find out where they're located." He paused for a moment, some nagging questions coming to mind. "Are you the only one here?"

"I've been the only one here for a while," Williams replied. "The safehouse doesn't get much use. And like I said, last night I got a call from someone telling me to shut the place down. It was on pretty short notice."

"Did they say who they were?"

"No. They gave the proper clearance codes, but no names." Williams puffed on his cigarette, letting smoke waft forth before it faded as it neared the ceiling. "They were probably from the Taskforce. I've heard about those guys, through the grapevine. Black ops. The sort of people you don't want to mess with."

"They're trying to kill us," Jack said. "Me, Rafael, the Autobots. They even killed Fowler."

Williams frowned when he heard this.

"They killed him?" He did not sound surprised. "Shit, and I thought you two would get it first."

"What do you mean?" Jack could not help but sound somewhat offended at the remark. Williams only scowled and took a step forwards, nearing Jack. They stood at about the same height, yet nonetheless Williams made for an imposing figure.

"Look at you. I doubt you've ever had to fire a shot in anger." He kept the cigarette in his mouth, the tip letting forth a small puff of smoke that floated across Jack's face. The smoke at this proximity was enough to sting his eyes.

"I've had to do just that in the last twenty-four hours," Jack replied. He stood his ground and kept a straight-face. Williams was likely just weighing him up, trying to figure out whether he was worth helping or not. By harbouring him here, he was already aiding a fugitive. He could very easily pick up the phone and tip off the authorities if he wanted to, although in that case the Autobots would be beating that door down before he could finish dialling their phone number. "I've fought tougher opponents. I've gone up against Decepticons."

"Don't get cocky," Williams countered. "The Taskforce is black ops. That means they're the real deal. They'll kill you and anyone else who gets in their way, and they'll have the resources to cover it all up."

"Unit-E could do the same, if it wanted."

"Unit-E doesn't exist anymore. The whole thing's been shutdown. I suppose you missed out on that memo?" Williams sounded as if his patience was wearing thin. He did not come across as a particularly welcoming individual. Regardless, he had taken Jack and Rafael in, so there was likely some desire to help them buried underneath his hardened demeanour. "The Taskforce were the ones that called me last night, as you'd expect. I heard from someone over at Dreamland that they came in and took all the computers, all the hard drives and any interesting bits of alien technology from the base last night. They're likely going to do that here today."

Jack looked over to Rafael, who was standing by the couch nearby.

"Sounds like they're cleaning house," he said.

"Unit-E was always the diplomatic arm." Williams walked over to the doorway, puffing again on his cigarette. "And the Taskforce, from what I've heard, has no interest in diplomacy. If they could, they'd probably take the fight to Cybertron." He looked back at Jack before he nodded towards the corridor outside. "If you really want to take them on, you're going to need a lot more than that pea-shooter." He looked down at the .38 revolver Jack had tucked into his belt, partially visible through his shirt.

"We have the Autobots," Jack replied.

"Maybe. But you're still going to need something you yourself can rely on. You can't hope that the Autobots are going to be there for you the whole time."

There was a brief pause. Jack considered what had been said and nodded in agreement. As much as he liked them, he knew that Williams had a point: he could not rely on the Autobots, not when they would likely be fighting whatever Decepticon allies the Taskforce had gained for themselves. And even he knew that the one snub-nose revolver would not be much help if he was attacked by an entire squad of Taskforce operatives.

"You said you want to find out where they operate from?" Judging from the way he had his eyebrows raised, Williams must have found this idea somewhat reckless. "That sounds like you're planning a frontal assault."

"Like I said, we have the Autobots."

Williams nodded. He left the room then without saying anything more. Jack glanced over at Rafael, who had been standing nearby and listening carefully. He shrugged, unsure of what to make of the man.

"He seems nice, I guess."

"His job must have been easier than mine," Jack noted. He stepped out into the corridor, watching as further ahead, Williams opened a door. He stopped by it and motioned to Jack to come over. He did so, with Rafael following closely.

The door had opened onto a stairwell leading into the basement. Even from up here, Jack could make out a number of cables snaking across the cement floor. Williams started walking down the stairs and Jack fell into step behind him, with Rafael tailing along at the rear. The basement was large, but cluttered, giving the impression that it was smaller and more claustrophobic than it may have once been. There were a number of computers down here, haphazardly set up on tables, often with cables strewn across them and interweaving. This created fairly tangled messes in some places. There were about four monitors and a few server 'towers'. A metal door was at the far end, partially open, with cables snaking through the gap along the floor. Jack realised then that this house was actually part of the Unit-E warehouse across the street, just not in a conventional sense.

There were a few light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. They cast fairly subdued yellowish glows over everything. The air conditioner units in the walls were on full blast, the whooshing noise of cool air the loudest in the basement. Blue and yellow lights pulsed from the computer monitors, some flickering, casting sporadic and uneven shadows upon the walls.

"What kind of setup is this?" Jack asked.

"It's a 'safehouse'," Williams replied, the answer barely helpful. "The warehouse would be where the Autobots hang out. Down here is where the main work would get done. After the destruction of the original base outside of Jasper, Fowler had this place made the way it is. The obvious target being the big warehouse across the street. Since the place over in Area 51 never got completely dismantled, this safehouse has never seen real use."

"What do you do all day?"

"I'm only here three days a week. Custodial duties, mostly." Williams walked over to a large metal cabinet by the wall. He pulled a key from one pocket and jammed it into the lock, turning it as to open the creaky metal doors. Inside were several large black bags, one of which Williams pulled out. It must have been heavy, given the strained look he wore on his face as he hefted it towards the nearest table and slammed it upon its top. He unzipped the bag and rolled it over, spilling out the assortment of guns and ammunition contained within.

"Can't have a safehouse without some means of self-defence," Williams commented, taking note of Jack's surprised gaze as the armoury spread itself across the table. "It wouldn't really be a 'safe' house then, would it?" If this was a joke, he did not smile, even with the snarky tone he said it in.

"Are these computers networked?" Rafael asked. He had already made his way to the nearest one and had pulled the chair out from before it. Seating himself down, he watched the data feed of yellow text upon a blue background, trying to make sense of it.

"They've got all the connections you'd expect for a Unit-E computer. DIA, DOD, CIA, NSA, the whole lot. From there, you could probably work your way into the Taskforce mainframe." Williams explained all this matter-of-factly. "They'll trace you, of course."

"They will?" Jack frowned. He had already been forced to make multiple escapes from the Taskforce. He had no desire of running away again. The whole idea of coming here was to get the means to take the fight to them.

"Depending on how competent your friend here is at hacking," Williams added. "As soon as you breach their mainframe they'll be onto you. You'll likely have ten minutes before they come rushing out here. Just don't take me word on that. I ain't an expert." He gestured to the guns that he had spread across the table. "And if you're going to launch that frontal assault, you're going to want to pick out some kind of arsenal for yourself."

"Why would you help us?" Jack asked. "There's not much in it for you. Unit-E's finished, like you said. That means you and I have no jobs."

"You need my help. You're in a bad spot. And my daddy always told me to lend a helping hand to those who need it. I'm not about to turn you guys away." He took the cigarette from his mouth then, dropping it to the concrete floor where he crushed it under one shoe.

"You think the Autobots killed the President?" It was an honest question. The fact that this was the narrative being pushed by the media made it even more so.

"I don't think so," Williams replied. He was blunt in his response, apparently this was normal for him. "I certainly don't think you two were involved. And the fact that the Taskforce killed Fowler? I ain't going to stand for that. If helping you and the Autobots can screw over the Taskforce, I'll gladly give you what you need."

Rafael had started tapping away at the keyboard of the computer he was sitting at. The display changed as he switched it to a fairly ordinary looking Internet browser. It appeared that he was getting straight to work. Hard evidence was what they needed, that way they could blow the lid on the Taskforce and hopefully prove that the Autobots, and the two of them, were innocent in regards to the President's assassination.

"You said they'll trace us?" Jack asked.

"It might take them a while," Williams said. "If your friend's good, it'll take them even longer."

Jack regarded the pistols, submachine guns and the semi-automatic shotgun that had been spread across the table in front of him. He took the shotgun, a Benelli 'Super 90', otherwise designated the 'M1014'. Williams went and got another bag from the cabinet, this one full of ammunition.

"Will you come with us?" Jack extended the retractable stockon the shotgun. Grabbing a handful of twelve gauge shells, he began to slide them into the weapon's magazine tube one at a time. "We could use the extra help."

Williams appeared to consider the possibility, if only momentarily, before he shook his head.

"I'm going to go my own way," he said. "There are others like me. Plenty of Unit-E operatives who are recently out of a job. They might help out. I'll be sure to leave a few surprises around here for any Taskforce guys who show up." He smiled, and though the implication here was clear, that he would likely leave some harm-inflicting devices around here if the Taskforce made an appearance, Jack found himself smiling in return. Had he finally become a killer? Taking delight in violence against his enemies was not something he wanted to make a habit of, but these people were out to get him and his friends. They had taken Miko and they had killed Fowler, and for that he would do whatever he had to in order to get back at them.

"What's your endgame?" The question broke Jack's train of thought abruptly. Williams was watching him, a stolid look on his face, his eyes watching him carefully.

"My endgame?"

"Yeah."

Jack had not given this matter detailed thought. He had ideas, but no real 'plans'.

"Expose them. The Taskforce. Get proof that the Autobots didn't kill the President. Clear my name and Rafael's. Find answers about why they did all of this."

"Sounds reasonable," Williams said. "And I hope you do it all. But I bet, and it's just a hunch, that what you're in right now, it's a lot bigger. There's more at stake here than your names, or the wellbeing of your Autobot friends."

"You're probably right," Jack replied. "But as for the bigger picture, I haven't much to go on. If the Taskforce setup the President's assassination, then what would they achieve from that? Except inciting fear?"

"What better way to keep a population under control?"

That suggestion did get Jack thinking. So far the Autobots had been painted as villains to the public, in the disclosure of their existence. What could the Taskforce gain from that? It would certainly make hunting them down easier. People would actually want them to do it.

"But like I said, there's more than that. And that's all the more reason to help out." Williams fished a pair of hand grenades out of the bag. "Where do you think I should put these?"

 

Well........let's go make Knockout's funeral.......fabulous ~  

and I like Jacob Williams, can't figure out how you manage to make an OC/NC interesting so quickly  

 

If you want a good idea of what Jacob Williams looks like, just think Fred Williamson (star of classics such as From Dusk Till Dawn, Warrior of the Lost World, Black Cobra, Vigilante and all manner of (mostly B-grade) movies).

In my original plan, he was not even going to be 'Jacob Williams', but rather an unhinged Scotsman whom Fowler knew from his Army Ranger days. I decided to settle on something a touch less silly.

 

The next chapter:
----------------------------

Reverie

"What do we do now?"

Skystreaker was the one to ask this. Wheeljack's attention was abruptly diverted to her, his optics watching her as she stepped into view on his right. He, Skystreaker, Doubletake and Bumblebee were some ways from the desert valley. On a quiet hilltop, one that overlooked much of the surrounding desert, they had dug a hole and left Knock Out's battered frame within it before piling dirt and rocks upon it. A fairly makeshift grave site, but an effective one nonetheless, marked by a small cairn of rocks. Wheeljack wondered if this is how Knock Out had ever seen himself going, buried on an alien world far from home. It was unlikely, and such a thought only caused Wheeljack to be reminded of his own mortality.

He remembered what Knock Out had said to him, on Cybertron shortly before they had left for Earth on what had turned into a very ill-fated visit. Knock Out had asked him about "settling down", whether he wanted a family even. He had questioned as to whether or not a life in peacetime was something Wheeljack could ever adjust to. Back then, he had not been entirely sure of the answer, but now, looking at Knock Out's grave, he knew what to say. It was simply too late to tell Knock Out.

I'll never be able to adjust, he thought. I'll never be able to "settle down". The war's still going, it just ain't as big as it used to be. And I'll get the one who did this to you, Knock Out. You were a pain in the aft, but a useful one.

"What do we do?" Bumblebee stood nearby, perhaps the most crestfallen within the group.

"What do you think we do? We meet up with the other Autobots and we take the fight to Cyclonus. And Star Saber. Especially Star Saber." Wheeljack stated all of this intently, as he looked upon Knock Out's grave.

"We don't know where their ship is," Doubletake said. He stood across the grave from Wheeljack. Despite him having hardly known Knock Out, he had helped a great deal in digging out the grave. "If you have any idea where, Bumblebee..."

"That's just it. I don't know. I was inside it the whole time but I don't know where it was." Bumblebee sounded frustrated. Wheeljack could understand it, as he was feeling something similar himself. Skystreaker's blasé attitude was not helping his mood much, either. She was in the group for purely selfish reasons, he had known this since the beginning, yet it still annoyed him a great deal. She had helped out during the fight, but once that had finished she had reverted to her increasingly annoying smart-ass demeanour.

"Hopefully Dragstrip will lead us to it," Wheeljack said. He checked his own scanners then, seeing that the Decepticon in question was still driving down a desert highway, likely in a panic. Bumblebee had told them that he had destroyed the ground bridge controls on their ship, so there was a good chance Dragstrip was on his way to some sort of rendezvous point. Going after him now may lead him to realise he was being traced, so Wheeljack hung back as did the others, waiting for him to go aboard Cyclonus' ship.

"Until he does, we're sort of stuck," Doubletake said.

"What about Magnus? We should regroup with him. He's with Jack and the others." Wheeljack had not received word from Ultra Magnus for a while, nor had anyone else here for that matter. Something important must have come up, that or the Autobot Commander was simply being careful as to avoid getting possibly traced if he activated his comms. Or maybe he was dead, Wheeljack thought grimly.

"We can't just stay here," Bumblebee said. From his passionate tone, it was apparent he wanted to get at them. To tear apart any Decepticons they encountered. "I'll follow Dragstrip. See where he goes."

"Last time you followed a 'Con, you got captured," Wheeljack countered. Bumblebee shot him an annoyed glance. "We wait for Dragstrip to get back to the ship. Then we'll strike. I'm all for getting back at them for what happened to Knock Out, but even I think we gotta play it safe for now."

"I'll go by myself," Bumblebee replied.

"You could get caught," Doubletake said. The sunlight through the clouds was subdued, but nonetheless it gleamed off of his silver armour. Unlike Wheeljack and Bumblebee, Doubletake's form lacked many of the scorch marks and dents that the other two Autobots had gained during their brief stay on Earth. "That'd jeopardise our chances. If Dragstrip even thinks he's being followed, he won't go back to the ship. He could lead you on a chase halfway across the country." The Autobot cop looked to Bumblebee, his optics narrowed. "You can't let your desire for revenge impair your judgement. It could get you killed, sure, but it could get everyone else here killed if they get you alive."

Wheeljack clasped his hands together, brushing the dirt off of them as best he could. A silence fell across the group, a somewhat awkward one that spoke volumes of the sort of relationships that were between each of them. Wheeljack would have normally agreed with Bumblebee and would have gone racing off after Dragstrip with him, had it been nine years ago. Now, he found his thinking fell more in line with that of Doubletake; charging headlong in this particular situation would only make things worse.

"Hate to break it to you, yellow," Skystreaker said, ending the silence as she looked to Bumblebee with a condescending expression. "You've only got one arm. How do you expect to take on an army of Decepticons with just the one arm?"

Bumblebee scowled at her, his large blue optics flashing with hostility.

"I could probably take you on with one arm--"

"I'd like to see that." Skystreaker spoke with a smug smile. She was certainly very sure of herself, a quality Wheeljack could admire, if it was a quality delivered in measured doses. Right now, her smug attitude only enflamed Bumblebee's anger further. The yellow warrior stepped forwards, encroaching on her threateningly. Skystreaker responded by stepping towards him in turn, maintaining her smile as they stood eye-to-eye.

Wheeljack walked forwards and forced his arms between the two of them, forcing them apart several inches.

"Save it for the bad guys," Wheeljack said. Bumblebee took a step back, his agitation blatant. As for Skystreaker, she turned to Wheeljack and reached out one hand, tenderly tracing her fingers across his chest, right over his spark chamber. That was a fairly intimate touch, one that not many would do in the sight of others.

"Jackie, I didn't know you had such blow-hards as friends," she said. Bumblebee huffed audibly when he heard this. Wheeljack clasped the hand she had at his chest with one of his own and drew it away from him slowly.

"I'd fight and die for Bumblebee," Wheeljack said to her, firmly. "Who would you fight and die for?"

Skystreaker looked as if she were about to answer, but Wheeljack spoke again before she could.

"Other than yourself?" He asked.

Skystreaker said nothing. Her answer was obvious. As for Bumblebee and Doubletake, they were watching the pair carefully.

"I thought we were friends, Jackie," Skystreaker finally said, after a long pause. She sounded almost disappointed, although Wheeljack got the impression that the puppy-dog look in her optics was one she wore mockingly, not seriously. "You and I, together in this fight."

"We're friends? You don't do a good job of showing it."

"What? You've already forgotten about earlier?"

Wheeljack knew what she was referring to. He was already regretting it. Being reminded of that now, after what had happened with Knock Out, caused anger to flare up within him. He lunged forwards, clutching her by the neck with one hand. He threw her to the ground, more strongly than he had intended. The startled look in her red optics made the movement well worth it.

"Forgotten about what?" Bumblebee asked. Doubletake stepped to the pair and pushed Wheeljack off of Skystreaker. The Autobot Wrecker knew better than to lose control, but given the circumstances he was well at his wit's end.

"You're a selfish, Decepticon whore," Wheeljack said. His tone was level, his anger contained. He glared at Skystreaker, who lay on her back below. "You've been doing nothing but use us ever since you got here. The 'Cons want you dead, so you take advantage of Autobot hospitality instead. I don't care how good a fighter you are, you better show some fucking respect. Not just to me, but everyone." Wheeljack felt Doubletake's hand on his shoulder and the Autobot cop gently guided him back up to standing.

"I need your help," Skystreaker said. She sat up and, surprisingly, actually sounded hurt. Wheeljack thought he may have been too harsh on her, that he had let his emotions take too much control of his actions. He had never been especially well-disciplined when it came to that sort of thing. "I've got no friends left in this galaxy."

"So you being an aft to everyone around you is your way of compensating?" As a rhetorical question, Wheeljack did not expect Skystreaker to reply. However, the answer he gave her was not the one he was expecting.

"You should take it easy," she said. She rose to her feet, her back now covered in brown dust. One of her hands drifted towards her chest armour. She looked to Doubletake and then to Bumblebee, all the while Wheeljack eyed her carefully. She was trailing the fingers of one hand over the armour that shielded her spark chamber in her chest. It was an anxious movement, a telltale sign that she was worried about more than was normal. "You know what? I'm going to go flying for a while. Maybe I'll come back once Jackie here has calmed down a little."

"You can't just leave..." Doubletake began, but he did not get to finish.

"Watch me," Skystreaker said. She transformed quickly into her jet form, the engines roaring into life before she turned herself around and blasted into the air. A gush of hot air slammed into the three Autobots standing nearby, causing them to stumble whilst a few of the rocks marking Knock Out's burial site fell out of place. Skystreaker was gone in seconds, becoming nothing more than a speck against the cloudy sky before she finally vanished into the clouds.

Bumblebee turned to Wheeljack, one optic ridge raised in a curious manner.

"Are you and her...?" He trailed off, not sure how he should put it.

"Hardly." Wheeljack thought this was an accurate response. He had only known Skystreaker for about two days. That was barely long enough to properly get to know someone, let alone turn what was a mere 'acquaintance' into something more, something that actually had meaning. Skystreaker had used him and his body just like she had been using the group in general, all for her own protection and her own amusement.

"Do you always attract the crazy ones?" Bumblebee asked. Wheeljack could not tell whether he meant this as a joke or not.

"I figure a mech attracts those females most like him," Doubletake commented. He wore a straight-face, as he so often did, save for the emergency flare he continued to carry between his metal teeth.

"And that's supposed to mean what?" Wheeljack knew exactly what it meant before he had finished asking the question. He knew his reputation, he knew what he was like and he had had numerous others tell him what he was like in the past. Some would definitely call him "crazy". And he knew that he and Skystreaker shared many similarities, regarding general personality. Anyone with a working processor would see this.

"What if she gets caught?" Bumblebee asked. "She could blow the lid on the tracker in Dragstrip. Any chance of getting to Star Saber would be gone if that happened."

"Do you have wings, Bumblebee?" Wheeljack said this flatly. Skystreaker could have been going off to tell the Decepticons for all he knew. He still did not know where her true loyalties laid.

They lie with her and her alone, he thought, absently. Much like he had been, after leaving the Wreckers. He had only ever trusted himself, maybe a fellow Wrecker on the off-chance he met one, but as for everyone else? They would have to do without his help. Even he knew he had changed since those times, just not completely. If he were in a pinch, the first individual he would rely on to get himself out of trouble would be himself. He could admire Skystreaker's independence, but much of the other aspects of her character were tolerable at best. And yet, he still felt some affinity for her. That was what made what she did all the more maddening.

"We can't trust her," Doubletake said, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, we probably can't," Wheeljack replied. He turned to face the Autobot cop. "And that's why, whatever we're going to do next, we should do it quickly."

---------------------------------

Star Saber had been expecting this kind of reaction from Cyclonus. The Decepticon General was angry, even through his expert control his anger flashed in his red optics and gave his stentorian voice a far more grating edge. Nonetheless, as for what Cyclonus was actually saying, Star Saber found either unimportant or uninteresting. Arguing with the Decepticon General was usually a tiresome affair.

"You sent a squad of my soldiers out on a mission without notifying me," Cyclonus continued. The pair stood on the observation deck, before the vast window that looked out across the clouds the ship floated over. Somewhere far below was the continental United States. And somewhere down there, Star Saber knew, was the Seal of Nova Prime.

"And now the ground-bridge controls are ruined," Cyclonus said. "And two prisoners escaped. Those you sent on the ground haven't returned. What have you been doing, Star Saber?" His tone levelled out, his anger falling back within his complete control. Instead, he spoke with his usual authoritative tones. "Why do you undermine my authority?"

"Because your authority, General," Star Saber said, turning to face him, "Is inconsequential in the face of the authority I follow."

"Oh, and what authority is that?" Cyclonus narrowed his red optics. "Primus?"

"Not quite," Star Saber replied.

Cyclonus shook his head before he prodded a finger into Star Saber's chest, clanking metal upon metal.

"I should have you thrown off of this ship," he said.

"But you won't. Too many of your soldiers follow me." The confidence in his voice was warranted, as he knew what he said was true. So did Cyclonus. Of course, the Decepticon General did not appreciate it much.

"Your teachings are like a disease," Cyclonus countered. "Infecting the minds of my soldiers. This mission to acquire this 'Seal' is beginning to seem less and less worth the trouble."

"You'd do well to heed the prophecies contained within the Book of Nova Prime, General." He knew much of the book off by spark, particularly the portents it held for the future. "There is a warrior out there, as it is written, one of uneven spirit who would decide the fate of our species. I have searched for the Seal for far too long for someone like that to stop me. Perhaps that 'warrior' is you?" He raised one optic ridge inquiringly.

Cyclonus shook his head. For a moment, he looked as if he were about to lash out with some kind of strike against Star Saber, his hands clenching into fists. However, he unfurled them a moment later and simply turned around, storming out of the room with all the demeanour of a petulant adolescent. He was planning something, Star Saber knew this and Cyclonus would likely know he knew that he knew. It was almost a game between the two of them, where they tried to one-up each other in ways that were beginning to escalate. It was inevitable that soon enough, they would come to blows.

-----------------------------

In the operations room at the 'Vault' facility, Carver had been waiting for a fair while as he watched the many displays on the wall ahead of him. There had been little news regarding the Autobots or their human friends for some time. Of course, he was a patient man, that was one thing someone in a job like this would need. Hunting down a pack of renegade aliens and their human allies would have its downtime. He did intend to see the matter taken care of within the next few days, preferably the next twenty-four hours even, that way he could focus on some other pressing matters that required his attention.

There were about three technicians in the room, headsets on whilst they worked at the computers. The main display on the wall ahead showed a map of the country and a number of blips and lines that denoted Taskforce operations. They had people all over the country, operating from places much like the compound in the desert that Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack had escaped from forty-eight hours previously.

Carver had been arranging the other details of his plan in the meantime. The public knew about the Cybertronians now, they also would have been told a fair bit already that they were an enemy to humanity in general. Autobots, Decepticons, it did not matter. There was an enemy out there, a powerful one, one that would incite fear into much of the general population. And an enemy like that could rally people to respond to it. The President was dead, the Vice President was strictly under Carver's thumb and much of the government in general was in disarray. Yet, from all the camera feeds they had in here of the streets outside, life went on as normal for many. That was the strange thing Carver had noticed about people; even with an alien threat and government infighting, some simply went about their usual business as if none of this was occurring. Shops were still open, the buses still ran and the passenger jets still flew. Las Vegas, some distance beyond the gates of the compound above, went on like it did every other day. It never stopped for anything, not even possible alien attack. Carver had a feeling this was more down to ignorance, or denial, rather than anything like 'courage'.

The phone on the table in front of him rang then, breaking his train of thought. He leaned forwards from his swivel chair and picked it up before placing it to his ear. For a moment, he listened to the voice on the other end, and then he nodded more so out of habit as he knew full well that the person on the other end could not see him.

"Yes, I'll be there. You can tell the Vice President that everything's going along as it should be. Our people are in position all over the country." He paused, letting the worried-sounding politician on the end of the line speak. However, he interrupted him, narrowing his eyes slightly: "The people will thank us, senator. This country needs a strong leader. Someone who will get things done, rather than be drowned underneath layers of bureaucracy. To put the people and the state above all else. We have a common enemy now, but we also have the means to fight them. Everything, Mr. Senator, will work out fine." He hung up the phone at that point, bored of the politician's unnecessary anxiety. Carver had been planning this for years. The Decepticons may have been a late addition to the proceedings, but they had been a convenient one. Once this was done, it would be Cyclonus and his Decepticon soldiers who would be the first victims of this nation's response to the alien terrorist attacks on its soil.

Carver sat back in his chair. He snatched a sheet of paper from the desk, one covered with lines of mostly irrelevant data. He scrunched it into a ball before turning to the dustbin in the far corner. With a sharp movement of the hand he sent it sailing through the air across the operations room, where it landed straight into the dustbin without any interference.

One of the technicians turned to him then, one hand to his headset.

"Colonel, one of our agents on the field has made a sighting on a known Decepticon," the technician announced.

"Which one?" Carver raised an eyebrow.

"Dragstrip, sir," the technician said. "He was sighted travelling down a highway not far from the city."

"Tell our agent to keep an eye on him." Carver sat back in his chair. "And to report anything noteworthy." They were aware of the identities of some of Cyclonus' chief Decepticons. Vortex, Shadowstriker, Dragstrip; they were ones to keep an eye on, where possible.

"There's something else, Colonel." One of the other technicians caught his attention then, a worried tone in his voice.

"What is it this time?" Carver leaned forwards as he spoke. "Autobot sighting? Because right now, I could do with actual news..."

"Someone's attempting to access our mainframe," the technician said, bluntly. Straight to the point, as Carver liked, though the news on offer was immediately cause for concern. The Colonel rose out of his chair and walked over to where the technician was seated.

"Details, please," Carver said. He looked to the computer monitor before the technician switched it to the large one at the wall. Flashing red text appeared: UNAUTHORISED ACCESS DETECTED. Streams of data, most of it computer gibberish to Carver, began running down the screen.

"They've made low level access," the technician stated. "I'm already working on a trace."

"Low level? Just how 'low' are we talking about?" Carver was not a computer expert, hence why he left much of that work to the younger technicians here who he paid handsomely. Still, even he knew unauthorised access to the Taskforce databases was a bad thing.

"Sensitive facility information," the technician replied, "Nothing about the projects here." He was typing away at his computer and, after his response to the Colonel, began muttering into his headset as he coordinated with other technicians elsewhere in the underground facility.

"I want them traced as soon as possible," Carver said. He picked up the phone from the table and quickly dialled a familiar, well-used number. He put the phone to his ear, watching the data streams on the display ahead with a frown. The words 'TRACE IN PROGRESS' had appeared underneath it all.
"Van Cleef?" Carver heard the line at the other end pick up. "Get a team together right now and meet me in the operations centre. We have a serious problem that's in need of 'fixing'."

Could it be the Autobots doing it? They were certainly capable of hacking Earth computers, likely even more so the augmented systems here at the Vault. They were essentially alien robots, there were probably a number of things they could do that not even the Taskforce knew about. All the more reason for a quick response in the face of this new development.

Carver hung up the phone on that line and tapped in the number for another section of the facility. As soon as the call was answered, he began giving orders.

"I need the choppers in the compound ready to go within the next ten minutes," Carver stated. "And I need at least three Anti-Material Cannons loaded onto them, ready for use in the field."

 

Security Breach

Wheeljack had been waiting on a set of boulders near the highway for a while now. He stood watch, with both Bumblebee and Doubletake in their vehicle forms nearby. Both were concealed from view behind a large and rocky outcrop. From what Wheeljack had been told in Ultra Magnus' brief message, they were to regroup here and push on towards their next objective, wherever (and whatever) that was. As much as Wheeljack would have preferred some actual detail, as he would have certainly felt more at ease at coming out here, he and the others had been at a loss on what to do. Skystreaker had flown off and was yet to return, likely gone her own way for good this time. Wheeljack felt conflicted about it, even more so about what he had said to her that had apparently been enough to make her leave. Had he been too harsh? Maybe. But sometimes being harsh was the only way to have an effect.

The rain had stopped and the clouds above had begun to part, bringing some sunlight back to the desert. Wheeljack stood leaning against a boulder, his arms crossed, his mind wandering in his boredom. Tensions were high, this much he could see, especially regarding Bumblebee. The scout-turned-warrior had been put through hell on Cyclonus' ship. His wounds made this clear. Still, Wheeljack could commend the younger Autobot for persevering, even with just the one arm at his disposal. He could also understand his desire for revenge. Even he wanted to get back at the Decepticons for killing Knock Out, and he had found the Decepticon doctor tolerable at best.

Down the mostly straight road, Wheeljack caught sight of the large blue truck that gleamed in the light of the sun. He recognised it immediately as Ultra Magnus. The truck came roaring down the highway towards him, followed by two other vehicles. Both pinged as Autobots on his sensors, although Wheeljack only recognised one immediately as Wildstrike. The other one looked familiar and that familiarity grew as the vehicle came to a halt in front of him.

"Deadeye," Wheeljack spat, feeling the anger build in him. The three Autobots remained in vehicle mode, with Ultra Magnus sounding his horn to herald his arrival.

"He's with us, Wheeljack," the Autobot Commander said.

Wheeljack clenched his jaw as he regarded Deadeye's vehicle mode. He could easily imagine the Autobot grinning at him, in some kind of knowingly smug manner.

"So he can stab us in the back?" Wheeljack countered, looking to Ultra Magnus.

"Where are the others?" The Autobot Commander wisely changed the subject. On cue, both Bumblebee and Doubletake drove out of hiding and stopped nearby. There was an awkward silence as the other Autobots noticed the one missing.

"Where's Knock Out?" Ultra Magnus asked, concern audible in his voice.

"He didn't make it," Wheeljack answered. He stated it like the fact it was.

There was another extended silence amongst the group. Finally, Ultra Magnus spoke again, his voice carrying his usual stern tone.

"We have to get moving," he said. "We haven't got a lot of time. Fall in, Wheeljack."

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow my lead. We can brief each other on the way." Ultra Magnus put his engines into gear and started off down the highway. The others fell into formation behind him, leaving Wheeljack standing in the cloud of dust all of the vehicles kicked up in their wake. After a moment's deliberation, he figured it best he follow, so he quickly transformed into his vehicle mode, that of a white sports car, and started after them.

-----------------------

Colonel Carver had been watching the situation in the operations room unfold with his usual straight-faced attitude. Someone had hacked the Taskforce's network, that was certainly cause for concern, but he had every confidence that the intrusion would be combated effectively. The computer experts here were well on their way to pinpointing the exact location of the source of the intrusion.

The door to the operations centre opened and Captain Van Cleef walked inside, outfitted in his usual black uniform, complete with red beret. Carver turned to him as he entered. He saw that Van Cleef had an earpiece at one ear and that he was speaking into it as he walked in, likely directing the team he had put together to respond to the current problem.

"What's the location?" Van Cleef asked, looking towards Carver.

"It's from within the state," Carver replied. He watched the display ahead as a map of Nevada appeared. Three red blips signified the three helicopters that had been sent in response to the network intrusion. "To the north-west, in the direction of Carson City."

The three red blips adjusted their heading slightly as they started for the city in question. Carver watched the map display eagerly. The city, as it was displayed on the map, had been encircled with green, representing the current area to search. The technician seated nearby was working rapidly at the keyboard whilst speaking into his headset, all in the attempt to trace the intrusion to a far more specific location.

"Whoever's doing this must have underestimated us," Van Cleef remarked. "You'd think they'd at least get out of the state before trying to hack us."

"It's no laughing matter," Carver countered. "This could be the work of the Autobots. With their technology, they could probably hack just about any system they want." He kept his gaze fixed on the main display. The three red blips were closing in on Carson City. "How many operatives did you put on those choppers?"

"About a dozen," Van Cleef said. "Standard gear. Submachine guns, pistols, breaching equipment. The heavier stuff is on the choppers, if it's needed. And we can always send in more people. I've got about twenty on standby right now." He sounded smug. Apparently earlier successes had gone to his head.

Sometimes Carver found Van Cleef's laidback attitude irritating, but the man had gotten things done efficiently in the past. He was reliable, even when he was acting not quite as professionally as Carver would have preferred.

"We'll get them," Van Cleef added. The search radius decreased on the display as the network trace pinpointed the exact location. "Whoever's doing it. Autobot, or even Darby. It could be him, you know. Him and his friend."

"Esquivel?" Carver had read the reports. He knew of Rafael, he had been the one to send Van Cleef after him in the first place. "Maybe it is him. Regardless..."

"Regardless, we'll get them. And you know what, Colonel?" Van Cleef turned to him, wearing a smug smile. "They won't stand a chance. They won't even know what fucking hit them. If it wasn't for their Autobot friends, we'd have bagged these fucks days ago."

"I have the address," the technician nearby announced. "A warehouse, on the outskirts." The number and street name flashed upon the main display. Van Cleef quickly recited this information into his earpiece. The red blips on the screen ahead halted as the helicopters came to touch down.

Van Cleef put a finger to his earpiece as he listened to the latest update from the operatives on the ground. He relayed this information to Carver.

"They're landing," he said aloud. "It's a warehouse on a backstreet. Mostly empty."

-------------------------

The first of the Taskforce operatives on the ground rappelled down from a helicopter and into the parking lot of a warehouse, on the northern edge of Carson City. The tarmac was still wet from the rain earlier that day, shining in the subdued light of the sun that worked its way through the cloud cover.
Five more operatives touched down and the group proceeded to spread out across the front of the property, weapons at the ready while another six operatives landed on the street beyond the gate. No one was out and about on this road, nor any other for a few blocks. The neighbourhood here was mostly vacant lots with a few small, older houses in the mix.

Two operatives went to the front double doors of the warehouse. One kicked it in and the other followed, with a third watching the rear. Beyond, in the administration office, there was nobody. No sign of life, not even any furniture. The place, it seemed, was empty.

------------------------------

"Building's empty," Van Cleef announced, turning to Carver.

The Colonel frowned, noticing Van Cleef's eyes narrow as he heard the news through his earpiece.

"Any Autobot presence?" Carver asked.

"None that's been detected." Van Cleef put a finger to his earpiece and spoke loudly into it. "I want the whole place searched. Take it apart if you have to. Whoever's in our system, they're in that building."

----------------------------

In the main expanse of the warehouse, intended as the Autobot area given the large amounts of empty space, a few of the operatives had begun to search. There was not much to search for, with only several offline computer terminals being the standout items in the main hall. However, there was a metal door at the far end, leading down a ramp that went underground. It would have opened automatically, had power been running through the building. As it stood, the door had to be forced open manually.

Beyond was a tunnel, with pipes and conduits along the ceiling. It continued straight on for some distance, so about six of the operatives started down it, intent on following the tunnel to its end point. That end point came at another metal door, this one partially open, indicating some recent use. With the operatives spread out before it, one of them grabbed the handle and slowly pulled it open before stepping into the basement on the other side.
There was a tripwire across the doorway, something that the operatives had not been expecting. As a result, the man in the lead stepped forwards and walked straight into it. The powerful explosion that followed as a pair of grenades detonated sent the door flying off of its hinges. Two of the operatives were knocked to the ground, smoke and debris filling the doorway. There was not much left of the operative in the lead.

---------------------------

Van Cleef pulled the earpiece away and turned to Carver, his face scrunched up in anger.

"They've played us," he barked. "Booby traps."

Carver looked to the main display on the wall ahead. The system intrusion had abruptly ended, as if whoever or whatever had been responsible had turned itself off. Something automated, timed even? Nothing more than a ruse to draw their attention away from something else? Carver put his hands to the back of the chair in front of him. He clenched them tightly, the sinking feeling in his chest an indication that maybe, for once, his enemies had outplayed him. He might have even admired them, were the circumstances different.

"They only hacked as far as they could," Carver muttered. The possibilities played about in his head, with a few of them coming together in what he believed to be the most likely. He knew who he was dealing with. "They went as far into the network as they knew they could without being detected. And then, they must have set up some sort of timed hack. One that would be detected. A distraction, nothing more. They were long gone by the time it started." His voice began to increase in volume as he spoke. Van Cleef was watching him, not too sure of what to make of what the Colonel was saying. "But, what information could they already have?"

"Colonel, what's our next move?" Van Cleef asked. "This whole thing's a bust. They played us, pure and simple."

Carver continued watching the main display. The map of Nevada upon it remained unmoving. He put his eyes to where Las Vegas was marked, with the many roads and highways winding out of it and into the surrounding desert. On the edge was their location, marked in yellow, missing only the 'YOU ARE HERE' arrow.

"They know where we are," Carver said.

"What?" Van Cleef did not quite catch that statement. Regardless, he knew from Carver's tone that it was important.

"I need security in this facility doubled," Carver ordered as he turned to Van Cleef. "I want this city locked down."

"Locked down? We can't really do that..."

"Yes, we can. Roadblocks, armed guards, everything. No one gets in or out without us knowing about it." He could only hope that he was not too late implementing these measures. They had no idea just how long it had been since their enemies had started moving. "Anti-Material Cannons at every checkpoint..."

At that moment, there was the sound of a muffled, distant thump as something on the surface above exploded. The whole facility rumbled, every surface vibrating briefly. Carver did feel that sinking feeling again, but he was quick to quell it before moving into action. An alarm bell began to ring and red lights in the walls started flashing as the entire facility went onto full alert.

-------------------------------

On the outskirts of Las Vegas, in one of the more industrial areas, an explosion rocked the main gate of the Taskforce compound. Ultra Magnus, in his truck form, had come barrelling straight towards the gate, the accelerator pedal floored. The rifle he carried emerged from the side of the driver's cabin, fitted in place upon a rack that allowed the weapon to be fired when in vehicle mode. He sent a single shot into the guardhouse by the gate as he came racing towards it, causing the small metal structure to explode into a large fireball. The guards near it were knocked aside like ragdolls, debris raining down all around them as Ultra Magnus rammed the gate. The gate was shredded off of its hinges, rattling across the front of the blue semi-trailer before being caught underneath where it was promptly flattened out of shape by the Autobot Commander's tires.

He had no qualms about harming the humans here. They had proven to be more than capable of harming his kind, and they were more than willing to do so. In a situation like this, it boiled down to 'fight or die', except this time around they were taking the fight to them. This was an assault on their turf now. However, he would have to pick his targets carefully, by the look of things. There were plenty of non-combatants around here, civilians, scientists and technicians, even a few maintenance personnel in orange uniforms who went running for cover to his right. Ultra Magnus came to a skidding halt in the middle of the parking lot. Most of the humans around him were running away, even some of the guards were doing the same, likely in order to regroup and organize an effective defence. Usually Ultra Magnus would have preferred something other than a frontal assault, but given the circumstances it was probably the most fitting way of dealing with the Taskforce.

He opened both his doors then. Jack and Rafael climbed out, running for cover by the parked cars nearby. Jack carried a shotgun, with two pistols at his waist and a pack on his back full of ammunition. Both humans kept low by the cars while Ultra Magnus transformed into biped mode, pulling his heavy rifle from where it was clipped to his back. He scanned the area, noticing that most of the humans had indeed opted to run for cover. He ignored the frightened maintenance worker to his right, shooting him a stern glance that incited him to turn and race out of the wrecked main gate.

Wheeljack and Deadeye came driving in at that point, transforming into robot mode upon entering the compound. Ahead was the main building, a large and mostly cream-coloured stone structure. It took up much of the compound and carried numerous balconies and similar vantage points. Ultra Magnus motioned to Wheeljack to move ahead, before signalling to Deadeye to keep watch on the main building.

"They'll have reinforcements on their way," Ultra Magnus said. "We have to get this done quickly. Wheeljack, I want you to take Jack and Rafael into the building. There's likely a path underground. As for you, Deadeye, stay out here. Keep guard."

"No way," Deadeye countered. "I'm going in there and I'm going to find the Colonel. That bastard used me and I'm not going to let him get away with that." The Autobot was adamant and Ultra Magnus knew right away arguing with him, or even pulling rank, would only make matters worse. After a moment's deliberation, Ultra Magnus simply nodded in response. If Deadeye wanted to get himself killed, he could go right on ahead.

Wildstrike entered the compound at that point, one arm shifted into a standard energy cannon. She did not take the gate, instead she simply crashed through a section of fence further down, off to Ultra Magnus' right. She fired a shot at one of the outbuildings, causing at least half of the small metal structure to go up in a plume of fire. A few of the guards near it were knocked onto the ground by the concussive force of the blast.

"Wildstrike, check your fire," Ultra Magnus ordered. She turned to him from across the parking lot and nodded in acknowledgment. "There are non-combatants here."

"We have to find the server room," Rafael said. "It's probably deep inside the facility."

"You brought the right people along if you want to break in," Wheeljack said. He smiled down at Rafael before starting towards the main building, with the two humans following him closely. Several guards were taking up positions outside the front of the building, using pillars and the short stone walls around the gardens as cover. As Wheeljack approached them head-on, the guards opened fire with their submachine guns and assault rifles. The continuous tak-tak-tak of automatic weapons fire echoed throughout the compound, with most of the rounds that hit home pinging off of Wheeljack's armour. Ultra Magnus started walking with Wheeljack, ignoring what small arms fire that him. He watched another guard emerge from the building, this one carrying a large and familiar looking black metal gun. Wheeljack saw it too and let fly with a shot from the fusion cannon he carried. The blast struck the wall behind the guard and his buddies, blowing a hole through it and vaporising the man with the cannon. Windows shattered near the impact zone from the sheer force of the blast. Several other guards were knocked aside, showered with stone and glass debris. Those that remained standing began to fall back, most heading into the main building. Amongst the guards, scientists and administrative staff were running out in an effort to escape the battle. They ignored the two hulking Autobots.

Deadeye came rushing by then, heading past the main building, likely in an effort to go around the flank. Ultra Magnus considered trying to rein him in, but decided against it. He had far more important things to do than try and wrangle that loose cannon.

The Autobot Commander came to the front of the main building. As he considered how to get inside, something fired some distance to his right. The shot, one from an Anti-Material Cannon, winged his left arm. He grunted from the stinging pain it caused before turning around, his gaze going to the trio of Taskforce operatives who had taken up position beyond a short stone wall some ways across an open lawn. Ultra Magnus returned fire with his rifle, sending a round into the dirt in front of them. The explosion blew the three of them to pieces, showering dirt and body parts around a small area. With that done, he turned to the main building and sent a heavy rifle blast straight into the front. The round punched through the stone easily, blasting a chunk from the front of the structure, sending fragments of brickwork raining down upon the pavement below. While Rafael and Jack moved into the building through the front entrance, Ultra Magnus barged his way into the vast front lobby using sheer brute force.

On most days the place would have looked tidy, with its cream coloured carpets, beige wallpaper and monitors displaying DARPA-related propaganda. There was even a model of the Saturn V rocket hanging from the ceiling, naturally a fraction of the actual rocket's size. Ultra Magnus brushed his head against this, causing it to sway on its cables. By now, the building was mostly deserted. Assorted debris littered the floor and the fire suppression systems had kicked in, drenching the entire interior in a shower of cold water.

"Over there," Jack shouted. He pointed across the hall, to a large metal bulkhead door at the base of a ramp. That likely lead into the underground levels, where much of the Taskforce work took place. As for this building, it was merely a consumer-friendly front. Ultra Magnus looked to the bulkhead door and crouched low as he considered how they would enter the tunnel. It looked like that he and Wheeljack would have to enter vehicle mode to get around better.

"Wheeljack, get this door open," Ultra Magnus ordered. The Autobot Wrecker nodded in response before he pulled a grenade from his waist. On the walkway above, several Taskforce operatives appeared, outfitted in black combat gear. Two of them had Anti-Material Cannons, whereas another carried a rocket launcher.

Ultra Magnus sent a shot into the walkway that blew away a few of the humans. One of them let fly with a shot from an Anti-Material Cannon, one that caught the Autobot Commander in the chest. The force of it knocked him backwards, but despite the pain and the awkward position he managed to return fire. His rifle thundered in the expanse of the hall, sending two more powerful rounds into the walkway before the entire thing came down, metal twisting and screeching. The remaining guards on it tumbled and fell.

Wheeljack walked up to his side, putting out one hand in an offer of assistance. Ultra Magnus, his chest burning, took the offer, doing his best to ignore Wheeljack's smug expression. Back on his feet, Ultra Magnus checked the hole that had been punched through his armour. It could have been worse, although the pain was significant.

"Keep moving," Ultra Magnus ordered. "Vehicle mode, Wheeljack. It'll be easier."

--------------------------------

At the other side of the compound, Bumblebee and Doubletake had come crashing through the rear gate before transforming into biped mode. Both had proceeded to lay waste to the guard positions, inciting many of the actual guards to turn and run. With the base under attack from both sides, it was unlikely the defenders within would be able to properly organize. It was the reinforcements that they had to keep an eye out for, so both Autobots went about their assigned tasks of remaining outside on watch. Wildstrike did the same at the other side of the base, all three waiting for the inevitable arrival of the local authorities and the Taskforce's reinforcements.

-------------------------------

Carver remained in the operations room, even with the explosions thumping overhead and the underground facility shaking in response around him. While technicians panicked and entire groups of guards ran for cover, Carver remained where he was and continued cycling the main display through the many camera feeds available. Autobots at the front, Autobots at the back. It was a full-fledged assault. Practically a terrorist attack, although he figured those carrying it out believed their intentions to be pure. What terrorist did not believe that? It was all down to perspective, really. Not that he had much time to dwell on such thoughts. There were measures that needed to be taken, something he had already alerted Van Cleef to. The Captain had rushed out of the operations room to organise a defence. Reinforcements would be here in fifteen minutes, the local authorities even sooner. Of course, the attackers would be aware of this. They would be operating on a very strict timeframe, hoping to inflict as much damage and carry out their objectives as quickly as possible.

The underground facility had been put into lockdown, but the thick bulkhead doors did not stand up well to the Autobots. On one of the surveillance monitors, Carver watched as Ultra Magnus stopped in the main tunnel and pulled a heavy energy rifle from his back. A single shot from it was enough to obliterate the metal bulkhead in front of him, allowing him and his buddies free access into the underground facility. The entire place shook as the door exploded into a mess of metal fragments and searing hot slag. Carver watched this dispassionately. An attack like this had been a possibility and even with their sophisticated technology, there had always been the possibility that the Taskforce would not be able to stand up well in response. So, instead of trying to hold these Autobots off, Carver had decided on trapping them within the compound. The reinforcements would help do that. And then, with that done, it would be relatively easy to pick them off.

Flicking through the different camera feeds, Carver stopped at one from the west side of the compound. Deadeye was there and he had just blasted his way into an outbuilding, one with a tunnel leading to the underground facility. It was a tunnel normally reserved for transport vehicles bringing cargo in and out of the facility. In this case, the 'cargo' Deadeye carried was a pair of Cybertronian blasters. The Autobot was alone, having split off from the main group. Carver nodded his head knowingly as he saw the Autobot transform and speed into the tunnel. There was a very good chance Deadeye was coming straight for him. This was exactly what Carver wanted. All he had to do was wait, maybe move out into the research floor outside the operations room. Deadeye would come to him. This would save the Colonel a fair bit of legwork.

 

Unto the Breach

Jack and Rafael had not encountered much resistance within the underground facility. The central tunnel took them, along with Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack, a fair depth under the surface and into what was no doubt a vast facility. The scale of the tunnels and adjoining areas were such that the two Autobots were able to move freely, alhough some areas required them to crouch down in order to move and not scrape their heads upon the ceiling. Red lights were flashing down the length of the concrete tunnel and occasionally someone would run by in the opposite direction, either someone in a white lab-coat, or a grey technician's uniform or an orange maintenance uniform. Rafael had referred to some schematics gained in the hack earlier and seemed to know where he was going, so Jack followed with both Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus in tow. The Autobot Commander kept up front a few paces, blowing away any obstacles with his large rifle.

Rafael took them round a sharp right bend, to another bulkhead door that did not stand up well to Ultra Magnus' weapon. However, as soon as it was down, a hail of gunfire came through from the other side. Both Jack and Rafael scattered, with Jack diving behind a stack of metal boxes as bullets pounded into the floor and wall nearby. Clouds of concrete dust erupted from each impact, showering him as he landed on his side and attempted to gather his bearings.

A frontal assault had been risky, foolhardy even. However, with the element of surprise on their side, the group had made significant progress. It had been Rafael's idea to set the timed delay on the computers back at the safe-house. Essentially, he had hacked as far as he figured he could go before being detected. Thankfully, the information gathered had revealed the location and general layout of the facility. As for what was being researched here, that information remained buried under layers and layers of security protocols. Hacking a computer here, at ground zero, would hopefully help shed some light on some of those things.

Jack clutched his semi-automatic shotgun and scrambled back onto his feet. Behind him, both Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack remained stalwart under the hail of small arms fire. Through the blown bulkhead, a barricade had been formed where several Taskforce guards had taken positions. One of them hefted an Anti-Material Cannon and began to take aim. Jack leaned around the boxes and fired a few shots from his shotgun, causing one of the guards to duck into cover as the buckshot collided with the top of the metal barricade.

Wheeljack did not hesitate to let off a shot from his fusion cannon. It hit the centre of the barricade, sending forth a flash of purple flame that filled the tunnel and silenced the guns of the guards. Smoke filled the air, as did the stench of burning flesh, a smell that hit Jack's nostrils and made him feel nauseous. He slowly stepped from cover, shotgun held at the ready, as he traversed the wrecked bulkhead and made his way through the smouldering wreck of the barricade. Rafael followed slowly, looking around at the devastation with horror in his eyes.

Is this what they had come to? Autobots killing humans like it was nothing? Jack hated this, yet he knew there was little other choice. The Taskforce wanted him dead and had killed Fowler in the process. He could not get mad at Wheeljack for blowing these guards away, not when the circumstances were as desperate as they were.

Beyond the barricade was a vast, open floor with walkways crisscrossing above and a number of metal and glass partitions scattered about. Behind these partitions were what appeared to be laboratories of a sort, with Cybertronian technology laid out across slabs and in a lot of cases hooked up to computers with thick, snaking cables. On any other day this place would be full of scientists and technicians. At the moment, the place was mostly deserted, the evacuation upon the advent of the attack having done its job. It was surprisingly vast, hewn from the rock, pipes and cables attached to the ceiling up high and snaking down the walls. Red lights pulsed about the place, casting ominous shadows. Rafael stopped where he was for a moment, putting one hand up as he attempted to recall the correct directions from the schematics. Finally, after what felt like an hour of deliberation while it was in fact only for several seconds, he pointed straight ahead to the set of double doors across the hall.

"Through there," he declared. "First door on the right. Mainframe room."

"You sure?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Rafael replied. He frowned, as if he found Jack's doubting of his memory insulting. It was more than likely a symptom of the stress he was under, exemplified by the anxious way in which he clasped his hands together at that moment.

Wheeljack strolled over to one of the large glass windows and peered inside. A curious look crossed his face and he turned to Ultra Magnus, motioning for him to come over.

"Hey Chief," Wheeljack said. He pointed to what lay behind the window. "What does that look like to you?"

Ultra Magnus looked inside and frowned. Lying spread-eagled across a large metal slab was what looked to be a Cybertronian torso, mostly silver in colour, missing the arms and legs and the head. He gave a sickened grimace as he saw this.

"Human experiments, no doubt," he replied, his voice laced with disgust.

"It's like a damn scrap-yard in here," Wheeljack added. He stepped over to the next window and looked inside, his eyes widening slightly as he optics lay sight upon the dismembered Decepticon head staring back at him. There was only one optic in place upon the Decepticon's visage, the other missing and instead replaced with a thick cable that had been shoved into the socket.

Rafael and Jack came to the double doors. The flashing light on the keypad by the doorway indicated that they were locked. Jack did not hesitate to fire a shotgun round straight into the keypad, causing the entire thing to explode with sparks whilst scattering metal fragments. The doors partially opened then, loosened somewhat from their fittings. Jack put an arm through the narrow gap, mustering his strength in order to slide one of the doors open. Somewhere above them, an explosion rocked the compound, causing dust to loosen itself from the metal rafters in the ceiling before it rained down across the research area.

Jack entered the corridor behind. It was well lit, with a T-intersection some distance ahead. On the right was a metal door marked 'SYSTEM MAINFRAME', and underneath that sign the typical 'AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY' one. Rafael followed Jack into the corridor and went to the door. Again, there was a keypad lock here, one that Jack promptly shot apart with his shotgun. However, the door did not slide open, it simply remained locked shut. He took a step back and considered his options. Putting aside the shotgun, he pulled off his backpack and set it on the floor nearby. From within, he pulled a grenade. Rafael saw this and his eyes widened noticeably.

"You could damage the computers," he said.

"You have any better ideas?" Jack asked. He stepped up to the door and gently set the grenade on the floor right against it. Snatching up his pack before slinging it back over his shoulders, he put one hand to the pin and pulled it sharply. As soon as it was free, he turned and grabbed Rafael by one arm, dragging him along as he bolted down the corridor.

Seconds later, there was a thunderous crash as the grenade detonated within the confines of the corridor. The door into the computer room was torn free of its housing and sent flying. Jack's ears rung as he and Rafael hit the carpeted floor, the smell of scorched metal thick on the air. Both of them rose to their feet a moment later, with Jack turning around to find a small scorched crater left in the floor where the door used to be. One of the lights above had been smashed and smoke wafted about the corridor. Jack entered the mainframe room, finding it dimly lit and filled with cool air, a result of the air conditioning ducts above that helped to keep the powerful computers from overheating. Several monitors glowed in the dim light beyond a glass sliding door, and even further than that were several server banks covered in lights and connected by numerous blue and black cables. Rafael brushed past him and went to the largest of the monitors, sitting down in the chair before it and immediately getting to work.

From one pocket on his vest, Rafael pulled out a USB flash drive and stuck it into one of the ports at the computer's hard drive. Jack stood by the doorway, keeping watch on the corridor outside. He could hear footsteps nearby, numerous ones at that. The grenade explosion had likely attracted the attention of others. Neither Wheeljack nor Ultra Magnus could help them in here, given the decidedly human-sized confines.

"How long is this going to take, Raf?" Jack asked, looking back to Rafael.

"If you want me to get some solid information, it could take a while," Rafael replied. He did not look up from the monitor.

"I just don't think we'll be alone for long," Jack added, his voice grim. Further down the corridor, from past the intersection, two armed guards in black combat gear appeared. Jack reacted quickly, sending several shotgun blasts downrange, cutting both men down before they could react. Those further behind them immediately halted, with one sticking his submachine gun around the corner. He proceeded to fire blindly, the bullets spraying wildly about the corridor, slamming into the walls and floors. Jack stepped back from the doorway as parts of it were struck, punching holes through the metal frame. Small explosions erupted from the carpeted floor as nine-millimetre rounds hit home.

"Whatever you're doing, Raf, hurry it up." Jack had to shout to get his voice heard over the commotion. Promptly, he began to cram fresh shells into his M1014. One of the Taskforce guards began to move down the corridor, an MP5K submachine gun clasped in his hands. Jack stuck his shotgun around the doorway and pointed it down the narrow corridor. He pulled the trigger, sending the buckshot in the operative's general direction. Much of it missed, with a few pellets becoming lodged in his left shoulder. He shouted and fell onto his back, but as he landed he brought up his weapon and returned fire. More rounds pounded into the doorway, forcing Jack to step even further back from it. The quick tak-tak-tak of the automatic weapon was loud within the confined space, but it was over quickly as the operative's magazine struck empty.

Jack leaned around the doorway and promptly shot the wounded operative. The buckshot caught him in the face, knocking his head backwards and sending forth a spray of blood and bits of bone. The other guard at the intersection in the corridor had pulled out a grenade of sorts, grey and cylindrical, that he tossed in Jack's general direction. It was a flash grenade, Jack realised, and he quickly ducked back into the room as it went off with a loud bang! A white flash filled the corridor for a split second and the two remaining guards pressed forwards, weapons held at the ready.

"I think I've found something," Rafael announced, seemingly oblivious to what was happening out in the corridor. Jack went to lean around the doorway, only for the two Taskforce soldiers to open fire. This forced him to back away, his shotgun raised, though neither soldier strolled in. Instead, another flash grenade sailed into view, landing a few feet from him.

He turned away from it as it went off, the loud bang of the detonation resounding in his ears. His vision mostly clear, he swivelled around as the first Taskforce soldier stepped into the doorway. Jack blasted him, knocking him backwards a few steps, causing him to fall into the doorway. The other one responded by this time tossing an actual fragmentation grenade into the room. Jack saw it rolling towards him, aware that he only had seconds to act.

So, in a fit of impulse that only someone desperate to survive would do, he lashed out and kicked the grenade, sending it flying back out into the corridor. As soon as it was clear, he dived away from the doorway and onto the floor. The grenade exploded, the noise sending yet more ringing through his ears, the concussive wave of air hitting him hard. Part of the wall near the doorway fell away in the explosion while smoke and debris filled the corridor outside. Something long and heavy landed in front of his head, his eyes taking a moment to register the presence of the scorched, severed arm that had come to rest in front of him. Scrambling onto his feet, eyes wide, Jack swallowed and quickly checked himself for any missing parts of his own. Thankfully, he was still in one piece, if a bit dirty.

He made his way over to where Rafael was seated. The younger man was scrolling through pages of information on the display, skimming what he could, as there was no time to peruse it all.

"I think I have what we need," he said.

Jack's ears were still ringing from the explosions. He peered at the screen, skim-reading what he could see.

"The names of politicians and corporate CEOs bankrolling the Taskforce," Rafael said. "Carver has a lot of support in high places. But that's the least of it. There's something else, an artefact they found some years ago. Something called the 'Seal of Nova Prime'."

Jack had figured that some kind of ancient relic would play into matters at some point. Earth had been littered with them far into the past, both the histories of Earth and Cybertron being so closely intertwined.

"It's what Carver used to bargain with the Decepticons," Rafael explained as he quickly read through the information. "They want it badly, but it's been hidden in the facility here. It must be important, something that we shouldn't leave in Carver's hands, nor should we let the Decepticons get hold of it."

"What does it do?"

"It doesn't say." Rafael put a hand to his glasses, adjusting them slightly. "I don't think the researchers here have been able to work it out. But it's this other info that concerns me the most: the Vice President is among the Taskforce's supporters. Carver's apparently planning on seizing control of the government and the Vice President is drafting up a new Act to allow just that."

Jack frowned. Carver had seemed like, to him at least, the fairly typical hard-assed military sort. He had never struck Jack as an extremist in any form, just a man with strong views on some matters. There had been times in the past when Carver had criticised the government's actions, but nothing more. His disdain for bureaucracy had been apparent from the get-go. Carver was a man of action, the sort who was obviously not afraid to kill a few innocents to get his way.

"What do we do about that?" Jack asked. He honestly had no idea how to approach the situation. This was far bigger than he was, even with the Autobots involved.

"We expose him," Rafael answered. He pulled the flash drive out of the computer. "There's someone who could help us. General Williamson."

"And he isn't in on this whole scheme?"

"It says right in these files that Carver's planning to kill him," Rafael countered. He rose from the seat and stuffed the USB flash drive into one pocket at his trousers. "I think, if we could get his help to stop Carver, our chances will improve dramatically."

"And the Decepticons?"

"We get the Seal and we send it back to Cybertron."

Jack nodded. He could go along with this, as daunting as it seemed. Taking on the Taskforce was one thing, the Decepticons were an entirely different beast.

"I'll go with Ultra Magnus to get this 'Seal'," Jack said. "You go with Wheeljack. He can help get you out of here." He reached for the holster at his waist and with one hand pulled free the Beretta pistol that had been contained within. He handed the weapon to Rafael, who took it in one hand with noticeable trepidation. Rafael had not had the same training Jack had. He had never needed to fire a weapon in anger before.

"Hold on to that," Jack advised.

Rafael nodded. He stuffed the pistol under his belt.

"Go get the Seal and get out of here. It's on Sub-Level Two, Secure Vault B-9. There's a freight elevator across the main hall." Rafael said. "As for General Williamson, he's in Las Vegas, so it won't be hard to find him once this is over. We can talk him into helping us."

"Sounds like more of a plan than we had before." Jack smiled then, a fairly flimsy one at that. "I'll see you outside."

Rafael watched him leave. The sullen look on his face indicated that he believed he may never see him again. Jack would be sure to prove him wrong later, for now he set his mind on the task at hand. He headed out into the vast open hall where both Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack had been standing guard. The latter Autobot looked bored, fusion cannon held over one shoulder as he turned to watch Jack emerge from the offices.

"We heard shooting," he said. "Is Raf all right?"

"He'll be out in a minute," Jack replied. "You get him out of here, okay? Make sure he doesn't get hurt."

"Hey, I got you both in here just fine," Wheeljack replied, a smug smile forming on his metal features. "No reason why I can't get you both out."

"I'm not going with you," Jack said. Wheeljack raised an optic ridge curiously. "Ultra Magnus and I are going to steal something."

"Huh, I don't think the chief's one for thieving..."

Ultra Magnus stepped forwards and looked down at Jack, his face wearing his usually stern expression.

"What are we looking for?" He asked.

"Something called the 'Seal of Nova Prime'," Jack said. "You know it?"

"Afraid not. I've heard of the name: 'Nova Prime' is a religious figure, but a fringe one at that." Ultra Magnus gave a thoughtful look as he searched his memories for anything more on the matter. "That's about all I know."

"There's that cult, back on Cybertron," Wheeljack interjected. Both Jack and Ultra Magnus turned to him, waiting to hear more. "Bunch of loonies worship this 'Nova Prime' guy. Make him sound like a god."

There was certainly more to it than they all knew. Jack found the lack of actual useful information to be typical, as he would have very much preferred to know what the Seal of Nova Prime actually did before stealing it from the Taskforce facility.

"Whatever it is, it's here. And the Decepticons want it badly enough that they were willing to work for Colonel Carver to get it." Jack pushed a few more shells inside the magazine tube of his shotgun to ensure that the weapon was fully loaded. "We should get it and take it back to Cybertron."

"We don't even know what it does..." Wheeljack began, but Ultra Magnus interrupted him.

"Regardless, we shouldn't allow such an item to remain in the hands of these human extremists," he said, his tone level. "Nor should we allow it to fall into the hands of the Decepticons. Taking it back to Cybertron would be the wisest course of action."

"The only ground-bridge is back at Unit-E headquarters," Wheeljack countered. "And that got pretty busted up last time I was there."

"It can be fixed." Ultra Magnus scrunched up his metal brow and looked in Wheeljack's direction. "And when it is, Wheeljack, we can all return home. Isn't that what you want?"

Wheeljack fell silent. He seemed conflicted, something that Jack found interesting as it was not normally something one would see from the Autobot Wrecker. In fact, Wheeljack had struck him as especially conflicted recently, as if there were things weighing on his mind that had not been there nine years before. The change from wartime to peacetime must have taken its toll on him, a soldier who had known little else from the life of violence that had been thrust upon him through no fault of his own. Jack had read of war veterans struggling to adapt to normal society after returning home from war; maybe Wheeljack was simply the Cybertronian equivalent of such?

Nonetheless, he had no time to dwell on the matter further. They had clear goals now, something that he was grateful for, but they had perhaps ten minutes at most to carry them out before Taskforce reinforcements started flowing into the facility.

----------------------------

Deadeye had gone off alone for a few reasons: one, he knew that he worked far better alone than with others, especially if those others were Autobots and especially if those others were ones like Ultra Magnus. The Autobot Commander may have allowed him into their little group of fugitives, but that did not mean Deadeye had to abide by his rules and follow his orders like an obedient tin soldier. Secondly, Deadeye wanted Colonel Carver to himself. He also wanted free reign of the entire facility, in the sense that he would be free to shoot whoever he wanted and cause general destruction. There was something beautiful in the way something would explode, whether it be from a conventional grenade or an energy weapon striking it. Humans may have called him a 'pyromaniac' had they known of his love for watching such destruction and, on occasion, causing it.

Carver had used him. He had lied to him, utilised him as nothing more than an obedient tool, but he had made him comfortable while doing it. The Colonel had given him the sort of life he wanted, an easy one where he had all the outlets of entertainment he needed in order to whittle away the downtime between missions where he was out doing what he enjoyed. Killing Decepticons never got old. It was just a shame the arrangement he had with Colonel Carver had to end this way.

That human had taken advantage of him. Used him to help them create weapons and technology capable of directly combating Cybertronians. Early on, this had sounded reasonable: in exchange for letting him kill Decepticons, Deadeye would help them build better defences. Energon detectors, anti-armour weaponry, scanner jammers. Yet he could not sit back and let Carver use this technology to hunt down other Autobots, as much as Deadeye might have disliked them. That was simply not right.

Deadeye had made his way to one of the outbuildings before he had shot his way inside. Here, there was a freight elevator, one he was able to take down into the sub-levels underneath the compound. By now most of the non-combat personnel had evacuated, leaving only those who were willing to defend the facility, the ones that were most likely Taskforce personnel and as such affiliated with Colonel Carver. They were the ones he was more than willing to blow away, and he did just that when the elevator stopped at the end of a large concrete tunnel. There were four armed guards waiting here, spread across the hall, with one having mounted an anti-material cannon on a metal barricade.

Deadeye had room to stand as he stepped off of the elevator, one of his slug-thrower pistols in his right hand and the old-model Decepticon blaster he had confiscated off of Skystreaker clasped in his left. The Anti-Material Cannon fired, the noise of the shot reverberating loudly through the tunnel. It clipped him in the left arm, sending a stab of pain through it, but he was quick to recover. He sent a slug-thrower round into the barricade, causing it to explode violently, throwing the guard behind it backwards several feet. The other three opened fire with assault rifles and began to slowly back away as they did.

Deadeye sent a pink Decepticon laser shot into one of them, causing the guard to explode into a hundred charred pieces. The other two turned and began to run. He let them be, more concerned with finding Carver. He had been to other Taskforce facilities and he knew that there would be some kind of main operations centre somewhere around here. So, he started down the tunnel, ignoring the fleeing guards before rounding a corner to where a bulkhead door was located. There was another barricade here, manned by a large mounted machine gun. Three guards were here, one manning the gun, and all three began pounding him with bullets. It was the larger rounds from the mounted gun that stung the most, causing him to stumble as a few caught him in the lesser-protected stomach region. Nonetheless, he sent a shot into the group, destroying the mounted gun and sending the remaining two guards flying to either side.

The Autobot ducked through the doorway and into the larger room beyond. There were two levels to this area, the bottom a research lab of some sort, which had been dug from the solid rock. On a walkway above was a sign pointing in the direction of the 'Operations Room', his intended destination. However, it was what was within the laboratory that caught his attention. Scattered about on a metal slab to the left of the room, with cables snaking from it that hooked it to several computers, were the dismembered limbs of a Cybertronian. They had been stripped of their armour plating, leaving only the underlying endoskeleton and the empty energon lines that worked their way along it. Energon stained the surrounding floor, dull blue streaks upon grey cement.

The limbs were not the only thing there. On a slab closer to the wall was a severed head, one that had several scorch marks and dents marring its form. A long gash was down one side of the head, as if caused by some sort of heavy blade. Deadeye found himself looking at this head for a long while, his surroundings losing focus as he tried to pin the face to someone he knew. That was just it: he knew that face, he simply did not know from where. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, was the answer. And no matter how hard he thought, he could not find it.

"See someone familiar?"

The voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. He knew who it was right away and swivelled around to face its source. Colonel Carver stood on the walkway ahead, his hands on the railing while he watched Deadeye. He was alone, a courageous option. Then again, Carver seemed braver than most.

Deadeye pointed his slug-thrower pistol at the man, one finger hovering over the trigger.

"You used me," Deadeye stated.

"We had an arrangement. One you appeared to enjoy."

"I gave you what you wanted. And now you're using what I've given you to hunt down other Autobots. I can't allow that." Deadeye considered shooting him right then and there, but something stopped him. He could not work out what. Some kind of invisible force prevented his finger from pulling the trigger.
Carver seemed relatively unconcerned, even when faced with a disgruntled Autobot.

"Pull the trigger, if you please," he said. "Kill me. What I've started won't end with my death."

Deadeye went to oblige him. Again, something stopped him. An ache in his head began to build. Annoyed, he lowered the slug-thrower and raised the Decepticon laser pistol he held in his left hand. Even that hand refused to follow the orders his mind sent to it. His finger twitched but no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not pull the trigger. Carver noticed his trouble and his mouth curled into a slight grin. It was a cruel look, one that belied some knowledge that the Autobot was unaware of. Deadeye felt his frustration levels rising. He took a step forwards and went to pull the trigger, but a sharp pain shot through his head at that moment. He grunted, lowering the weapon as his head throbbed.

"You wouldn't remember," Carver continued. Deadeye checked both his pistols. Both were in working order. "You crashed here on board a scout ship. Your ship was damaged beyond repair, but not beyond salvage. The same went for you, in a way."

"What do you mean?" Deadeye frowned. He wanted to blast the Colonel, yet he could not determine why he was unable to bring himself to do so. Even the thought of the action seemed to cause him pain now.

"You were mostly dead when we dragged you from the wreck," Carver explained. "Were it anyone else who recovered your remains, you would have surely died. But my people know a great deal about your race. We studied the remains of the Decepticons we found, those that were destroyed by the Autobots nine years ago, and those that were taken down by us more recently. As well as that, the work of a renegade organization, now defunct, proved very helpful to our work. They had constructed a Cybertronian of their own, as short-lived as it was. And the Taskforce scientists applied a similar principle to you."

"I survived the wreck," Deadeye said. Carver was a liar, he could not believe a word out of this human's mouth. He had deceived him right from the beginning in order to gain his assistance. "I chose to help you..."

"And that's precisely what we wanted you to believe," Carver interrupted. His smile had gone, replaced with his normally stern gaze. "We saved your brain, Deadeye, as cheesy as it sounds. That body of yours, it's built from Decepticon spare-parts. We went the extra mile to make it look nice, to make it look normal, but in the end you're essentially a Frankenstein's monster, save for your brain. It's fascinating, really. You seem inorganic, yet you Cybertronians are comprised of a metal that is not on the Earthly-periodic table. A metal that is not inorganic, yet is not organic, all at the same time. Tubes that act like veins. Processors that act like neurons." He paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air between them. Deadeye's spark had run cold. A sinking feeling had built in him, one that threatened to drag him down into the dark depths of misery. "We learned a lot building you. We learned even more when we delved into that head of yours."

"You're lying." Deadeye's tone had turned feeble. Doubt had taken hold of him like a vice.

"Not at all." Carver spoke matter-of-factly. "We modified your memories. Made you believe you had come out of the crash unscathed. Made you think you had willingly joined the Taskforce. Made you believe that you were helping us out of your own volition."

Deadeye realised that his hands were shaking. Nonetheless, he pointed a pistol towards Carver and went to pull the trigger. Again, a sharp pain went through his head, strong enough to make him yelp and stumble backwards a few steps.

"We buried directives deep inside your coding. Safety measures, if you will. Subtle ones, ones activated through certain phrases. We wanted you to retain most of your free will, as turning you into some kind of zombie would have likely made you less useful. The directives remain in place, but there's nothing stopping you from disobeying my orders. Unless, of course, I utilise the failsafe command."

Carver was beyond reproach. The Taskforce had created him, an abomination. That was what he was. Any other Cybertronian who knew of his true nature would likely paint him as such. Were it not for the fact that he was unable to take a shot at Carver, Deadeye would not have believed him. However, with the proof right in his face, he found a feeling of complete powerlessness wash over him. It brought him down hard, left his hands shaking. The guns he carried felt almost alien to him now.

"Instrumentum enim, ut ordinem novum." Carver stated this aloud and it was enough to completely shatter Deadeye's train of thought. Something in him clicked, somewhere within his mind shackles were put in place. Something told him that this had been one of the 'certain phrases' Carver had mentioned.

"You'll have no choice but to follow my explicit orders now, Deadeye," Carver added. "You won't be able to protest them whatsoever. It's unfortunate, binding you in such a way, but it's necessary. I can't have you, or any of the other Autobots, interfering with what I've started. It is convenient, in that sense, that they are all within this compound. That's sure to save you a lot of legwork."

"I won't kill them for you," Deadeye said, defiant. As if on cue, a sharp stab of pain worked its way through his head. He clenched his metal jaw and grunted, his optics closing as he put a hand to his forehead in a futile effort to ease the sensation.

"You will," Carver countered. "You haven't got a choice. Go and find the Autobots. Kill them all."

Deadeye found himself going to the laboratory's exit, as if some other force was guiding him. He had a general idea as to where the other Autobots were located, although he had no desire to harm any of them, no matter how much he may have disliked them. However, the overwhelming drive to follow Carver's orders had taken hold of all of his faculties, setting him on the task in a single-minded fashion, one that the rest of his mind began to fight against viciously. Whatever the Taskforce had done to his head, they had done a very good job: he could gain no traction in this developing mental battle. He left his intended target, the perfect opportunity to take it out lost. Deep inside him, his frustration turned to rage. It left him as a series of snarls as he traversed the tunnel outside, snarls that turned into a long, drawn out yell that reverberated through the tunnel. This yell was directed to no one in particular, his rage against the heavens going unheeded.

 

:O Never saw that coming. Wow.

 

It's a bit of a curve-ball, isn't it?

 

adds more to Carver's character; extremely subtle. Sort of the Valeyard from Doctor Who; 1 layer of deception for the recipient, followed by a few more layers.

 

The latest chapter:
---------------------------------------

What Your Father Made You

"Your orders were clear," Vortex said. The Combaticon must have been frowning, although it was hard to tell: his optics were hidden beneath a yellow visor, his mouth concealed under a metal battle-plate. Nonetheless, the broad-shouldered soldier forced the familiar prisoner to the floor before Star Saber.

They were in the observation room, a favourite spot for Star Saber. The Autobot zealot eyed the female flyer before him. He knew who she was. In fact, he had been searching for her for a long time. However, the familiarity was not mutual. Skystreaker, beaten and dented in places, looked up at him with a confused grimace.

"This is the deserter," Vortex added. Star Saber nodded in acknowledgement. Behind him, the large reinforced window looked out across the rear of the ship and the surrounding clouds. Sunlight streamed in, casting Star Saber in a yellow glow from behind.

"I've searched for you, Skystreaker," Star Saber said, leaning forwards slightly in order to get a closer look at her. He glanced back to Vortex. "You may leave."

"Should I notify Cyclonus?"

"Of course not," Star Saber replied, bluntly. "Leave. Skystreaker and I have much to discuss."

Vortex nodded and turned around before he strode out of the room, leaving Star Saber along with Skystreaker. The female flyer clutched one side and gave a pained expression, energon fluid leaking from a minor wound she had received there. The Decepticon soldiers had not been gentle when they had apprehended her, literally shooting her out of the sky in the process. She had likely not been counting on the presence of a Decepticon warship in the skies above the United States. Why she had been flying around alone was unknown to Star Saber. It was convenient, certainly, but he preferred to think that fate had brought them together. God was on his side, after all. Nova Prime at least.

"Your boys are a bit rough, huh?" Skystreaker quipped. Star Saber watched her, his face passive, his mouth concealed beneath a battle-plate. It was only the blazing blue optics that showed any semblance of emotion. Familiarity, for one. "Do I know you?"

"You did once, a long time ago," Star Saber replied.

"You're an Autobot," Skystreaker noted. She smiled. "On a Decepticon ship. So much for being the 'good guys', huh?"

Star Saber narrowed his optics at her. He knew her type, it was simply distressing to see her in particular as one of them.

"Your father did well to hide you from me," Star Saber said. "Of course, that is assuming he is your father. You are aware that the one who served as your male guardian was no more a father to you as I am?"

"He took me in," Skystreaker replied. She frowned, likely finding the subject matter a confusing one. To be brought aboard a Decepticon ship only to talk family matters with an Autobot was likely not at all what she had been expecting. "He tried to keep me out of the war. But I wanted in on it..." She trailed off, raising one optic-ridge as she did so, her confusion evident. "Who are you and why do you act as if you know me?"

"I knew your father. And I knew you, when you were nothing more than a youngling, still dripping with the energon from your birthing sac. As soon as I knew you were within Cyclonus' ranks, I ordered some of my followers to bring you in."

"But I thought Cyclonus..."

"Cyclonus did not order your capture. In fact, he does not care about one deserter. And he knows not of your connection to me."

Skystreaker chuckled then, if only briefly.

"And what is your connection to me?" She asked, incredulous. "Because, you see big guy, I've had a heck of a day."

"It's about to become more interesting," Star Saber remarked. "I was a pontiff of the Church of the Thirteen during the Golden Age of Cybertron, all the way up until the Autobot-Decepticon war destroyed what semblance of the Church remained by that point. That is not mentioning the gradual decline in those who followed the faith, many of whom turned to a more atheist, and in turn, degenerate, way of living. I founded the Sect of Nova Prime, comprised of ten members, myself at the head. Your 'father' was another, if you can even call him that."

Skystreaker let out a sigh. Star Saber had expected such insolence and did not let it bother him.

"When I was captured by your soldiers, I didn't think I'd get subjected to a sermon," Skystreaker said. "But if that'll spare me from the torture I was expecting, go on right ahead. Tell me all about how great and wonderful your obsolete religion is. I'll listen." She smiled. "Well, maybe I won't."

Star Saber considered striking her, but decided against it. He did not wish to hurt her. The soldiers had done enough damage, judging from the scorch marks and dents that marred her silver frame.

"Nova Prime selected me for a holy purpose," Star Saber continued. "He selected your father also. Nova Prime was one of the most powerful of the original thirteen, one who believed in the superiority of the Cybertronian race. The others disapproved of his attitude, but they were unable to stop his ascension to a higher plane. The Book of Nova Prime contains several prophecies and the Sect of Nova Prime has seen to the fulfilment of each one. All that remains are the last few, those that speak of the return of the Cybertronian race to its former glory, under the charge of the Prime himself."

Skystreaker listened with only vague interest. It was obvious she did not believe any of it. Star Saber was not concerned with whether she believed it or not. She would understand soon enough.

"Nova Prime will return," Star Saber said. "Through you." He leaned forwards and placed a hand to her chest. He sensed it, another life within her. A fresh one at that. Skystreaker's optics widened and her gaze met with his.

"You can't be serious," she spat.

"As it was written," Star Saber countered. "Your 'father' became disillusioned with the faith. He turned against the Sect, killed several of its members and stole you away from me. Very few are compatible with the Seal of Nova Prime. Even less, now that no Prime lives. But you, dear Skystreaker, you are one of the few."

"I don't think I follow..."

"Your 'father' rewrote your memories," Star Saber explained. "A barbaric operation, no doubt, that turned you into the rebellious, insolent degenerate you now are. When you left me, you were obedient, you knew your purpose. And your guardian changed all of that. He changed who you were. But fate is on my side, as it has drawn you and I together once more."

Skystreaker rose to her feet somewhat groggily. Her face had contorted into a look of disgust. Clearly, Star Saber's words had struck the wrong chord with her.

"I don't know you," she said again. "And I don't care about you or your whack-job religion, or your prophecies, or how much of a 'degenerate' I am. My father practically tried to kill me last time I saw him, so forgive me if that makes me doubt your 'story'. Honestly, I'd prefer Cyclonus' hospitality. At least that guy has class. Whatever you've got of it is completely overshadowed by how loony you are."

Star Saber did not pay much attention to her words. Instead, he stepped forwards and with his right hand reached out and grabbed her by the neck. Her slender frame may have offered her speed and agility, however it also made her lighter than most Decepticons. Star Saber picked her up off of her feet with ease. Her face contorted with discomfort as he looked her in the optics, examining her closely.

"You will understand, soon enough. You, and the other life you carry."

----------------------------------

General Cyclonus stood in the command centre of his warship, the Tempest, watching the numerous holographic monitors before him. Bridge personnel, mostly soldiers of varying sorts, were scattered about working at different stations. The command centre was deep in the centre of the ship, far from any weak points. A tactically sound design, as such a place would make an appealing target for the enemy.

There were no Vehicons on board this vessel. Cyclonus believed that those drones were mostly useless, fodder at best, pawns at the most. A means of distracting the enemy, yet the resources required to replace them usually outweighed their usefulness. Every Decepticon on this ship was a soldier, whether they be marksmen, regular infantry, engineers, medics or any combination thereof. They all had names, their own identities, their own stories to tell. And Cyclonus cared about each and every one of them. He did not punish mistakes made by his troops with death, unlike his counterpart Megatron who had made a habit of killing those who failed him. Ruling with fear would only lead to trepidation amongst the ranks. Cyclonus wanted every one of his soldiers to be at the top of their game and focused on their tasks. The fear of being killed by their own commanding officer would not have helped matters.

It was a shame then, he mused, that Star Saber was leading so many of them astray.

"General." One of the slimmer Decepticons nearby called out abruptly, derailing Cyclonus' train of thought. He approached the technician, who had brought up a map of some unspecified region of the continent on his terminal's screen. "One of our scouts has reported an Autobot presence, on the outskirts of a city." He pointed one finger at the map on the screen. "The place known as 'Las Vegas'. The Autobots appear to have broken into a compound."

Cyclonus peered at the screen. The Autobots would have been shielding their life signatures, so in this particular situation they had only the word of the aforementioned scout to go on concerning the location of their enemies.

"And why, I wonder, would they be 'breaking in' anywhere?" Cyclonus said aloud. The technician, the Decepticon emblem emblazoned upon his chest, considered the question for a moment. However, he seemed uncertain as to whether he should answer. "Surely, the Autobots are law-abiding citizens here on Earth?" Of course, Cyclonus knew why they might be breaking the laws here. They were fugitives, framed in an elaborate scheme started by that human, Carver. All the while Carver figuratively held the Seal of Nova Prime over their heads, as a means of getting what he wanted from them.

The door to the command centre slid open then. Cyclonus turned around, viewing the new arrival with a neutral gaze. He had half-expected Star Saber to come striding on in, only to feel somewhat surprised when he saw a wounded Dragstrip limp into the room. The Decepticon scout had a nasty gash in his chest, close to where his spark chamber would have been located. He clutched at the wound with one hand. Bright blue energon fluid leaked out of the gash, as well as from a jagged hole that had been shot into one leg.

"Dragstrip," Cyclonus said carefully. This particular Decepticon had been in charge of the squad that Star Saber had sent to eliminate the Autobots, the one that Star Saber had 'neglected' to inform him about. It was probably no surprise that the squad had been killed, with only Dragstrip alive to report what had happened. "Back from Star Saber's errand, are you?"

Dragstrip continued limping forwards some distance before he stopped a few metres from Cyclonus. He looked agitated, his face contorting into a pained wince with each step he took.

"I was unaware that Star Saber did not tell you about my mission," Dragstrip explained. His voice was strained, the pain taking its toll upon him.

"A failed mission, at that," Cyclonus countered. "You should go to the infirmary and then, when you are fit enough to walk properly, you can come and grovel to me."

"I only want to apologise, sir," Dragstrip said. He was being abnormally humble. Cyclonus raised an optic ridge upon hearing this latest statement. "And I want to go out there again, but with your permission. The Autobots are few in number. Give me a squad and I will terminate the lot of them." Despite his strained tone, there was eagerness in his voice as he spoke the last part. Dragstrip was a glory hound, at least he would have been had he gained any significant glory in the first place. He had also been one most affected by their prolonged time spent upon this ship travelling the stars. The narrow corridors and small living quarters became mundane very quickly. Spending years out in space, rarely encountering friends or foes could take its toll on the minds of some. It was no surprise that Dragstrip was so enthusiastic to get out of the ship now that they were on Earth. And there were Autobots to kill. Most Decepticons would relish such an opportunity.

"I would not send you back out in the state you are in," Cyclonus said. "I wouldn't send any one of my soldiers into battle in your condition. You are a liability to yourself and would be so for any squad you took under your command."

"I can get these Autobots for you, sir," Dragstrip said. His voice became laced with an increasingly desperate tone. "Just give me some soldiers."

"Get your wounds repaired first," Cyclonus replied. "And then come back to me." He knew Dragstrip would be back. He would get the most rudimentary repair job done before coming back and would likely still be leaking energon when Cyclonus sent him after the Autobots. However, time was of the essence in the current circumstances. Cyclonus could not wait around for Dragstrip, not when the Autobots were within reach.

Dragstrip looked as if he was about to protest but Cyclonus shook his head, silencing the Decepticon before he had even opened his mouth.

"No complaints," Cyclonus stated. "Leave. Come back here when you are not in such a sorry state."

Dragstrip obeyed, turning around before he left the room. There was no doubt in Cyclonus' mind that Dragstrip would be back out there soon enough, trying desperately to seek whatever glory he could in killing the Autobots. Cyclonus had no problem with this, as long as it did not endanger other Decepticons. He had been a glory hound himself and still was, in some ways. The glory of tearing off an opponent's head in the gladiatorial battles in the Pits of Kaon was a feeling that could not be duplicated in many other circumstances.

He turned and set his attention back on the technician and the terminal he stood before. The technician looked to Cyclonus inquisitively.

"What are we going to do about these Autobots, sir? We know their location."

"If they are there, I will meet them." He would take a few of his better warriors with him. He wanted to make sure the Autobots did not escape. Going to meet them on the battlefield himself would, in his view, increase the chances of preventing such an eventuality. He would also make sure to keep Star Saber out of this as for as long as he could, as that Autobot religious zealot had recently proved himself as a certified troublemaker. Star Saber's teachings and followers were simply dividing the soldiers on board this cruiser. Not even Cyclonus knew which of his soldiers he could fully trust and which ones had been polluted with Star Saber's "teachings", if one could even call them that.

"Keep watch upon things here, Dead End," Cyclonus said to the technician. Dead End was also a soldier, like many on board this cruiser. And like many of those, he served a dual role here. They did not have the numbers to have very many specialists in any single field.

"Isn't Vortex your second-in-command, sir?"

"He would be, were it not for how I believe he may not be as completely trustworthy as he once was." Cyclonus was not entirely sure about Dead End's overall trustworthiness. As for Vortex, that Combaticon had fallen under Star Saber's sway almost completely. "Report to me Star Saber's actions, if you see any that are out of the ordinary."

"Of course, General." Dead End nodded.

Cyclonus departed the command centre at that point, heading onwards to gather a squad. He had the feeling that the battle ahead would be a glorious one.

 

The Seal

A service tunnel took both Ultra Magnus and Jack along the edge of the underground facility. Much of the place had been evacuated, at least at first glance, with red lights flashing at intervals along the concrete tunnel. The Autobot Commander travelled along in truck mode, with Jack in the passenger seat and the window open, his head out as he regarded the tunnel ahead. The room containing the Seal of Nova Prime would be down here somewhere. Wheeljack, who remained with Rafael, transmitted some more detailed information passed onto him from the young computer expert. As a result, Ultra Magnus had schematics to refer to.

Jack was astounded by the size of the underground facility. Had no one noticed any of this? Something to this scale, kept from public eye, must have taken a lot of effort. A lot of disinformation spread through the media for one, all the stuff of conspiracy theories. That was what this was, was it not? Nothing but a great big conspiracy. A black ops group experimenting on alien technology would have made for quite the story on some loony's conspiracy theory Internet blog. Of course, it would appear that the 'loony' in question would be right on the money.

Ultra Magnus went into a sharp left turn that caused Jack to bounce in his seat. The Autobot went barrelling through a loading bay door, tearing much of it away through sheer force of impact. Beyond it was an open warehouse-type space where numerous metal containers were stacked upon one another. Ultra Magnus went by them all and through the double doors at the other end, taking them both off of their hinges along with a chunk of wall. Charging through the corridor behind, Ultra Magnus took another sharp turn, this time to the right, putting him straight through a locked metal door and into the vast laboratory and research space beyond.

This was the place, Jack figured, just by looking around. A bank of computers were off to one side, with pieces of Cybertronian technology laid out on concrete slabs by the opposite wall. In the centre was a large glass case, suspended between the floor and ceiling with sturdy metal pylons. Cables snaked across the floor from its base, linking it to computers and other monitoring equipment. Jack climbed out of Ultra Magnus' vehicle mode, allowing the Autobot Commander to transform into his taller biped form.

"That's the Seal," he said, looking towards the central case. Jack followed his gaze, taking in the large circular plate set upon a metal stand within the glass. The glass itself looked to be very thick, reinforced with steel along its sides at spaced intervals. Across the laboratory was another loading bay-type door, presumably to bring equipment straight in here for optimum research efficiency. The lighting was dim, with the red alert lights continuing to pulsate from their places on the walls and ceiling.

"What does it do?" Jack asked. He clasped his shotgun, surveying the room cautiously. It was too easy, he thought. This place could not have been evacuated so quickly. Something like this, as important as it apparently was, would have been kept under heavy guard, even in the event of an attack like this.

Ultra Magnus approached the case and put a hand to it. There was a crackle of energy and he withdrew his hand back, a pained grimace crossing his features.

"I didn't think the Taskforce had energy shields at its disposal," he said, looking back at Jack. The human made his way over to the computers some distance away on his left. Most were still switched on, all of these on their standby screens and locked from access unless one had login credentials.

"You think Deadeye gave them those?" Jack asked.

"The shields?" Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics as he examined the thick reinforced case. "Maybe. And maybe they gave him energon in return."

"Or just cable TV," Jack replied.

"What?" Ultra Magnus glanced over at him, having missed that remark.

"Don't worry about it." Jack put his shotgun on the desk nearest to him, ensuring that the safety was on. He then looked to the computer monitor in front of him and mulled over how to get by the login. If Rafael had been with him, a login screen would not be a problem.

"There's probably some way to turn off the shielding," Jack said.

"Or we could just blast it," Ultra Magnus replied. He still had his heavy rifle, currently clipped to his back. They could take down the whole case and its supports. He seemed to reconsider this suggestion, however, his face taking on a serious, if thoughtful, look. "But there's no telling what that might do. The Seal could be a weapon. Knowing our experiences with this sort of thing, it most likely is one. I wouldn't want to set it off."

Jack was about to make a suggestion, only he did not get a chance to when the sound of a familiar engine roaring broke the relative quietness within the laboratory. Deadeye, in vehicle mode, came screeching into the room through the hole left by Ultra Magnus. He transformed rapidly, coming to stand tall in biped form with both pistols raised. What made this particularly odd was how he had them both pointed at Ultra Magnus. Jack looked up at him and saw a conflicted look on his face, one that appeared to be almost strained, as if he were in pain.

"Come to help out, Deadeye?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Running off in the middle of combat is a fairly serious offence."

"This ain't Cybertron," Deadeye said. Ultra Magnus regarded the two guns pointed at him with a mix of curiosity and outright irritation.

"You're pointing your weapons at me, Deadeye," he said. "Why? I thought we had come to an agreement. You told me you didn't want to help the Taskforce harm Autobots."

"I don't." Deadeye's voice croaked as he said this. Something must have been causing him pain, yet from what Jack could see he was practically unscathed.

"Then care to explain to me why you're pointing two guns my way, soldier?" Ultra Magnus had narrowed his optics, likely surveying the situation carefully and weighing his options. He would be taking in every detail he could, just in case things turned violent. Jack could only stand on the sidelines and watch. He was not exactly equipped to fight a pissed off Autobot.

"They're in...my head..." Deadeye struggled to speak, as if some kind of invisible force was trying to prevent him. His hands were shaking, Jack noticed, an abnormality for Deadeye. On any other day he would have been able to shoot the wings off of a fly with those guns, now it looked like he was trying to let go of them yet his hands refused to obey the command. They maintained their grip, tightening it in such a way as to cause them to visibly shake.

"I'm a freak," he said.

"I don't understand." Ultra Magnus took a step forwards. Deadeye responded by pulling the trigger on the Decepticon laser he carried in his left hand, planting a pink bolt of energy in Ultra Magnus' chest. The Autobot Commander fell backwards, hitting the case where the Seal of Nova Prime was contained. The energy shield flared and Ultra Magnus shouted in pain before falling forwards and landing on his side. A scorched hole had been burned into the armour on the left part of his chest, his back scorched from the contact it had made with the energy field. Jack's eyes went wide as he witnessed all of this and his hands went for his shotgun.

Before he could grab it, a loud gunshot echoed from across the hall. The shotgun was sent spinning off of the desk and onto the floor, part of its barrel cracked from the force of the shot that had hit it. Jack looked to the source of the shot, his gaze going to Colonel Carver who had quietly entered the room seconds earlier. He clasped a large chrome-plated pistol in both hands, his Wildey magnum, and he aimed it in Jack's direction.

Ultra Magnus was up on his feet at that moment, his jaw clenched from the pain of his new wound as he lunged for Deadeye. Both Autobots hit the floor and began to grapple one another, with Ultra Magnus prying one of Deadeye's guns free from his grip, sending it sliding a considerable distance along the floor. While both Autobots fought, Carver took a step forwards and pulled the trigger on his pistol again.

Jack dived to the floor behind the bench as the shot hit one of the monitors, causing it to explode. Sparks and shards of glass and plastic rained down over him, his heart thumping quickly in his chest as he considered his options. He could expect no help from Ultra Magnus, not when the Autobot Commander had his own problem to deal with. Deadeye fired a shot off at that moment with his Decepticon laser pistol, the pink bolt of energy slamming into the seal above. Chunks of rubble fell down upon the floor while Deadeye squirmed free of Ultra Magnus' grasp. He jumped to his feet, as did Ultra Magnus, and the latter was quick to swat aside Deadeye's outstretched arm, throwing off the shot he fired, sending it flying into the far wall where it blasted a smouldering hole in the rock.

"Darby!" Colonel Carver shouted. He took a few more steps forwards, ignoring the two fighting Autobots nearby. Jack remained prone on the floor behind the computers, his hands scrambling for the holster at his waist. His right hand found the grip of the Beretta 92FS there and clasped it, pulling it free.

"I had high hopes for you, you know that?" Carver shouted over the noise, as Ultra Magnus threw Deadeye against a wall. The younger Autobot recovered quickly, both his guns dropped as he lunged for Ultra Magnus and sent them both into the shielded case. The energy shield crackled upon the contact, searing Ultra Magnus' back. He emitted a yell of pain as he threw Deadeye off of him before setting upon him once again, punching him across the face. The heavy rifle he had had clipped to his back had fallen to the wayside, beyond the reach of both Autobots.

Jack switched off the safety on the pistol. He stuck it over the top of the bench and started firing blindly, letting off several rounds. None of them hit Carver, who remained standing where he was while the bullets whizzed harmlessly by.

"But you had to go and choose them over us," Carver continued. He took aim and his Wildey thundered once again, the noise enough to make the Beretta sound pathetic in comparison. The shot hit the top of the bench, tearing through a computer hard drive, knocking it onto the floor where it landed somewhat painfully on Jack's legs. "You didn't just betray your country, Darby. You betrayed your entire species."

Jack leaned his head around the end of the bench and took aim at Carver. However, he was forced to duck behind it once again as Carver sent another powerful round his way. This one clipped the end of the metal bench, enough to tear a hole clean through it. The Colonel adjusted his aim slightly and planted the next shot through the bench. The powerful cartridge penetrated the metal easily, but much to Jack's fortune it deflected off of one of the sturdier supports and made its home in the floor near his chest.

Deadeye had pulled out a large serrated blade and slashed it in Ultra Magnus' direction. The veteran Autobot avoided the attack and one hand went to grab hold of Deadeye's outstretched arm, but the younger Autobot kicked him in the stomach, sending him back a few steps. Deadeye jumped forwards, with Ultra Magnus grappling him as he lunged once more. Deadeye's blade found itself embedded in Ultra Magnus' right shoulder. The Autobot Commander yelled and stumbled, his face contorting with pain as bright blue energon fluid trickled from around the embedded blade. It was not a fatal wound, but it was one that would certainly impair him.

Jack stuck his pistol around the bench and emptied the magazine in Carver's general direction. He felt trapped, with a hostile Autobot on one side and a very hostile human being on the other. Stuck on the floor behind the bank of computers, Jack could feel a few cables and wires digging into his back where he lay. One of them was especially wide, thick and black, and it snaked its way across the floor. It went towards the metal and glass case that contained the Seal of Nova Prime. A power cable? Perhaps. He needed some kind of diversion if he was going to get out of here alive.

"Come out, Darby," Carver called. His voice was its usual stern tone. It reminded Jack of Ultra Magnus, in a way, save for the fact that Ultra Magnus was not taunting him and out to kill him. "I can't have you getting in the way now, can I? You've already done enough damage."

Jack released the empty magazine in his Beretta, allowing it to clatter to the floor before sliding in a full one. He slowly stuck one hand around the bench, feeling along the thick cable. He pulled it back abruptly, just in time for Carver to fire another round, this one slamming into the cable. Sparks flew and warning lights on one of the computers started flashing.

Ultra Magnus tackled Deadeye at that moment, sending him flying by the computers where he landed with a loud clank upon the cement floor. Jack seized his chance as Ultra Magnus jumped upon the stunned Deadeye, knife still embedded in his right shoulder as he used his other arm to hold Deadeye down. Lifting his right hand, he gripped the hilt of the blade stuck in him and pulled. It was a quick yank, straight outwards, but the pain was intense enough to cause Ultra Magnus to grunt, his face contorting into an agonized expression that was replaced with a look steely determination a moment later.

Jack stood up from behind the computers while both Autobots blocked Carver's view of him. He looked down at the thick cable and where it had been damaged. Instead of trying his luck with the computers to shut everything down, it would appear that a simple, if cruder method would prevail here. From his pack, he pulled a pair of grenades, his last two. Yanking the pins from both, he dropped them behind the bench and started running.

The explosion obliterated the computers, severing their control on the systems within the laboratory. There was a flash at the reinforced container where the Seal was kept as the energy shield failed. Jack ran for cover behind it as Ultra Magnus came stumbling by him, set upon by Deadeye who grappled with the Autobot Commander for control of the knife. Jack heard a gunshot behind him as Carver caught sight of him, the shot pinging off of the reinforced case. Another shot went by Jack with only a few inches of distance between him and it. He glanced around the case, watching as Carver began to reload his pistol. The Colonel was apparently fearless, given how he was standing in the open. Jack brought his Beretta to bear and took aim. Carver saw this and aborted his reload, instead turning to race for the wrecked doorway. There, he dived, somersaulting behind the partially broken wall as Jack started shooting. Bullets connected with the wall, kicking up small clouds of cement dust. Carver remained in cover as he reloaded his Wildey pistol. It would appear that his fearlessness did not get in the way of his common sense.

"That Seal remaining hidden was all that was stopping the Decepticons from running rampant," Carver shouted. "As soon as they detect it, they'll be on us. Is that what you want, Darby?"

Jack did not give him the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, he continued firing, sending rounds in Carver's direction while he remained in cover. Suppressing fire, for all the good it would do him.

Ultra Magnus and Deadeye had since moved their brawl to the other end of the room. They continued to fight for control of the blade, with Deadeye on top of Ultra Magnus as he attempted to bring the blade down into his chest and his spark chamber in turn.

"Would you bring the wrath of the Decepticons on an entire city, all to benefit your escape?" Carver demanded. His voice had taken on a more hostile tone. He did have a point, Jack realized. They were just outside of Las Vegas. If the Decepticons wanted the Seal so badly, they would be more than free to do what they wanted once they had it in their possession. Carver had been the only one with any sway over them. Without the Seal, that sway was gone. Jack realised that developing second thoughts now, in the middle of a fight, was hardly opportune.

"Choosing them, over your own flesh and blood brethren? You disgust me, Darby. The Autobots are as much of an enemy as the Decepticons."

"Is that why you had the President killed?" Jack realised he had no more magazines for his Beretta. He did have several shotgun shells, the only issue with that being his shotgun lay well out of reach and had a noticeably damaged barrel.

"He was an obstacle to progress," Carver replied. "Humanity's entering a new age, Darby. We have to be ready to defend ourselves from alien aggressors. That means we need a strong leader."

"Who? You?" Jack scoffed. There was no reply. Instead, Carver leaned around the ruined wall and fired off a shot. It pinged off of the case, sending cracks along its form. Jack ducked back into cover.

------------------------------

Ultra Magnus was holding the blade mere inches from his chest. Deadeye had a crazed look in his optics as he struggled to bring it closer. The Autobot Commander kicked out with one leg, knocking Deadeye back somewhat, allowing him to snatch the blade from his fingers. He pushed forwards, pinning Deadeye to the wall before he plunged the blade deep into his chest. It found its home square inside Deadeye's spark chamber, life energon pouring from the wound as Deadeye's optics widened from the pain.

Ultra Magnus went to take a step back, the hole blasted into his armour at his shoulder flaring in pain with each movement he made. Deadeye, however, fell forwards and the Autobot planted both arms against him, his optics looking up into his own. Ultra Magnus was startled for a moment, expecting another attack, only for Deadeye to relax against him.

"Thank you," he muttered. The light in his optics died and he fell completely limp. Ultra Magnus let him fall to the floor. What had gotten into Deadeye? The Taskforce had exerted some kind of influence over him. That was worrisome; all the more proof that this human organization was a serious threat.

Ultra Magnus turned to look to Jack, who was exchanging small arms fire with Colonel Carver. He stepped towards the human, seeing that Carver was standing behind the ruined wall near where the doors into the lab had been. He considered his options here, his gaze going to the heavy rifle that had fallen from his back moments earlier. It was nearby and he walked over to it, hefting the powerful weapon in both hands before turning in Carver's direction. Getting rid of him would likely put a stop to the Taskforce's plans, at least for a while. There would always be someone else willing to pick up the pieces and start again.

Carver saw him and started running. Ultra Magnus pulled the trigger on the heavy rifle, sending a powerful blast of energy into the wall. The thump of the explosion echoed loudly throughout the laboratory, causing the ground to vibrate underfoot for a moment. Dust blossomed forth and chunks of concrete and metal debris rained down around the impact zone. As for Carver, he was nowhere to be seen. If he had been caught in the explosion, he could either be in several pieces or buried under the rubble. Either possibility was adequate. Ultra Magnus lowered the weapon and looked down at Jack.

"Is Deadeye...?" He went to ask, but Ultra Magnus interrupted him.

"I'm afraid so," he replied. Jack's gaze went past him and to where Deadeye lay. The human appeared sullen for a moment. Ultra Magnus had been unsure of what kind of relationship the pair had had, although now he saw that it had been a fairly significant friendship. Whatever the Taskforce had done to Deadeye, it had not left him with any choice other than to fight or die. That seemed to be a recurring theme in recent events: they had been boxed into a corner, hunted by humans and Decepticons. Fighting or dying had been the only real options open to them. And Ultra Magnus sure as hell was not going to settle on the latter.

"The energy field around the Seal is gone," Jack said. "You can take it. Whatever it is." He added this last part with a dismissive shake of the head. His mood had soured, understandable after what had just happened. Still, Ultra Magnus needed him at the top of his game if he was going to get out of here in one piece.

"We're doing a service here, Jack," Ultra Magnus said. "The Taskforce has to be stopped. The Decepticons as well. By striking at their base of operations, we're delivering a crippling blow." He turned to where the Seal was contained. Against the glass, he placed one hand, making sure that the energy field was gone. Indeed it was, so he clasped both hands upon his rifle and turned it around, swinging the butt-end of the weapon against the reinforced glass. It cracked on impact, his Cybertronian strength more than enough to cause some damage. He swung again and again, each time sending more cracks through the thick glass. Finally, on a fifth swing, half of the glass case shattered, sending dozens of sizeable fragments of it falling upon the floor. He reached in with one hand and grabbed the circular plate. At this close proximity, he could properly examine the intricate Cybertronian designs etched upon its surface. It was thick, almost like an old-fashioned shield, yet not large enough to be practical as one. Oddly enough, it was warm to the touch. He felt a tingling sensation go up his arm as he grabbed hold of it. Judging from the symbols etched along the edges, this object was very, very old. The symbols themselves were from a long-dead Cybertronian dialect, if the history lessons he had gone through before the war had been working on accurate information.

"Do you know what it is?" Jack asked. Ultra Magnus shook his head.

"No." He placed it to his back, utilising a magnetic lock there. Whatever it was, it felt strangely comforting to be wearing. "We should get back to Wheeljack and Rafael."

 

Metal Rain

There was a fine line between anger and frustration. Carver treaded it, leaning more to the frustration side, as he made his way down the tunnel ahead. Red lights flashed around him and occasionally an explosion on the ground above would cause the entire place to rumble, trails of dirt and dust falling from the ceiling in response. His Wildey pistol was firmly set in the holster at his waist, the safety on, the barrel still warm from his encounter with Jack Darby. Now there was someone who had proven to be more troublesome than they were worth. Still, he could at least admire the young man for having come this far, even if he had chosen the wrong side in the fight.

Carver took an elevator to the highest sub-level. By now, the facility had been completely evacuated, with only combat personnel left behind in its defence. The operations room, he found, was empty and somewhat a mess as technicians had done what they could to destroy the computer hard drives here. Van Cleef was waiting for him, his face wearing a frown.

"The Autobots are moving out," Van Cleef said. "Two of them have started southwards, those still in the facility are making their way back outside."

"What about the reinforcements?" Carver asked. The main view-screen at the wall was still working. The Autobots were marked with red, each of them traced now that the Taskforce had gained a lock on their life signatures. Carver was not fussed if they got away, as they would simply be able to track the lot of them. Energon detectors and satellite imagery could work wonders.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," Van Cleef answered. "There is a problem, Colonel."

Carver was not surprised to hear this. He raised an eyebrow, enough of a hint for Van Cleef to respond.

"Someone got into the mainframe. Downloaded a lot of sensitive stuff." Van Cleef sounded concerned. Carver knew why immediately, and it was not simply because someone had played 'hacker' on their systems.

"What did they get?" Carver asked.

"Just about everything incriminating," Van Cleef said. "No amount of political sway can save us from prison if they leak it to the media. It'll be a shit-storm."

"A shit-storm we can't afford," Carver added, concern lacing his voice. They would have the names of every benefactor, both political and corporate, who had been funding the Taskforce. They would even have details concerning Carver's overall plans regarding certain government figures. He would have to assume that they had everything, at least everything that could get him and the entire Taskforce in very deep trouble. All this because his people had been unable to take out Jack, and Rafael Esquivel for that matter. They were simply two people, aided by the Autobots certainly, but the Taskforce had the means of taking them down. What had gone so wrong? Carver had been putting this all together for months. He had not come this far to see everything go down in flames so quickly.

"We'll get them," Carver said. He was not sure whether he was just saying that to reassure himself, or Van Cleef. Or both. Van Cleef did not look like he was bothered much by what had happened. As for Carver, his calm and collected exterior was finally starting to crack.

Something started beeping from one of the remaining computers. Both men turned to it, aware that a red warning light was flashing. The main view-screen, displaying a map of the city and the surrounding desert, had taken on a fairly large blip marked with the immediately recognizable Decepticon logo. Carver walked up to the computer and tapped in a few commands, bringing up a still working camera feed from outside. The feed flashed up on one corner of the main screen, the camera pointed in the direction of the new Decepticon contact.

"Christ almighty," Van Cleef muttered when he saw the feed. "That's Cyclonus' personal craft, ain't it?"

Van Cleef was indeed correct: the personal 'yacht' of General Cyclonus had appeared in the air over the western part of Las Vegas, its hulking black and grey form casting a shadow that had begun to creep towards the compound. The ship was on its way here. Carver figured he should be grateful that Cyclonus had not brought his entire cruiser along. Manipulating the camera feed, Carver zoomed in as far as it could, giving him a somewhat closer if blurrier view of the lower part of the Decepticon spacecraft. At the bottom of the ship, a ramp was open and he could see the shapes of about half a dozen Decepticons spread across it, each with a hand to railing. They were going to come down here, Carver could see this now, and they were unlikely to be on friendly terms. They must have detected the fighting, Carver thought, or even the Seal. And they were here to kill Autobots and take the Seal of Nova Prime for their own. Carver had gone to great lengths to ensure the secrecy of this facility. It was a shame that it all had to go bad now, and all so quickly as well.

"People are going to notice that," Van Cleef stated, flatly.

"So what? Let them see it. Let them see the kind of enemy we're fighting." Carver could turn this whole situation to his advantage, if he played his cards right. "They'll beg us to save them now. From the Decepticons, and the Autobots."

"A lot of people will die."

"So what? Since when have you cared about collateral damage?"

Van Cleef just shrugged.

"Just saying..."

He nodded his head, seemingly agreeing with Carver's statements. Carver cared little for what he really thought, as long as he did his job and followed orders.

"Get a team together, Captain," Carver said, turning around to face him. "We're going after Darby and his Autobot friends."

--------------------------------

Minutes earlier, outside, in the compound, Wheeljack waited for Ultra Magnus. The fighting here had practically ended, with most of the Taskforce defenders either dead or having retreated. Wildstrike had been waiting for him when he had emerged from the underground facility, with Rafael in tow. Wheeljack raced up to her, scanning the surrounding area with his optics for any hostiles. The whole place, despite looking like a warzone, appeared to be clear.

Wildstrike turned to look at him as he approached.

"Where's the Commander?" She asked.

"The chief's on his way," Wheeljack replied. "In the meantime, Rafael's got some important documents and there's some General in the city somewhere who could help us." He paused, noticing the absence of the others. "Where's Bumblebee? And the cop?"

"Doubletake and Bumblebee have started for the rendezvous point, outside of the city," Wildstrike said.

"Call them back. We'll need their help." Wheeljack looked towards the front of the compound. The street outside had become packed with police cars and civilian vehicles. Few of the humans were game enough to actually enter the compound and the police were likely awaiting heavier backup. Wheeljack figured that the military would get involved soon enough, although the Taskforce was still around in some form judging from the black helicopter that buzzed around the compound. It did not fire at them, it simply circled the area, presumably keeping watch on the Autobot intruders. Plumes of smoke wafted high into the air from the many spot fires and burning vehicles that had been caused by the fighting.

Ultra Magnus appeared from the main building then, walking through the smoke with the heavy rifle in his arms. There was a freshly created hole in his armour, by the right shoulder, that leaked blue energon fluid. His frame was dented and marred with scorch marks, but otherwise the burly Autobot Commander was alive and mostly intact. He was followed by Jack, who had since dumped his backpack full of ammunition in order to have a lighter load and greater mobility.

"Commander," Wildstrike said, her optics lighting up noticeably. Wheeljack saw this and gave a coy smile. He had always figured there was something between the two. Being in harm's way could bring out something like that. Still, Wildstrike was restrained enough to not embrace the Commander. Instead, she stood up straight and saluted him as he approached.

"The human authorities have us surrounded," she told him.

"We can breakthrough," he said. "Just try and limit collateral damage."

As he spoke, he moved one hand to reach around his back, pulling free his latest find. He held out the Seal of Nova Prime in all its glory. To Wheeljack, it appeared to be nothing more than a glorified dinner plate.

"We'll have to keep this safe," Ultra Magnus said. "Until we can find a way to get it back to Cybertron."

Wheeljack took the Seal in one hand for a closer look. Ultra Magnus eyed him cautiously, as if he did not completely trust the Wrecker with such an item. This was probably the case, even if Ultra Magnus had no problem with Wheeljack watching his back in a fight. As for the Seal, it was covered with all manner of intricate Cybertronian glyphs, most of which Wheeljack had never seen before. He was no historian, although he could guess that the glyphs were of some long dead language. What else would one find on an ancient relic? As he held it, he could feel an odd tingling sensation in his hand. The object was warm to the touch. Was it simply heat from the sun doing this? Or something more? Wheeljack hardly had a chance to ponder the matter, as he was suddenly hit by a powerful gust of wind, as if a bomb had just gone off nearby.

There was a thunderous boom from somewhere high up, followed by a brilliant white flash as a Cybertronian dark matter drive activated, 'jumping' a ship into the air right over the city. A strong concussive wave of air rushed halfway across the city, causing Wheeljack and the other Autobots to stumble slightly. Rafael was knocked over, his glasses falling from his face, while numerous windows across the neighbourhood shattered from the force of the wave. Alarms, both household and car ones, went off all across town. The police cars parked out front had had every window explode simultaneously, showering glass all over the street. The cops were momentarily stunned by the unexpected blast. And high above, gradually descending, was the personal transport craft of Decepticon General Cyclonus.

The ship, its form uneven, with numerous modifications jutting out from a standard Decepticon transport ship frame, cast a shadow over the compound. The lower ramp was open and Decepticons stood upon it, waiting for an opportunity to jump for the ground. Wheeljack looked up at it, as did the others. He knew then that things had just become a whole lot more complicated.

"Shit," Jack muttered from where he stood nearby. He was not the only one to have such a reaction. The police beyond the wrecked front gate of the compound had apparently lost interest in the Autobots and were instead gazing up at the alien ship, struck with both awe and fear.

And that's not even the full ship, Wheeljack mused. Cyclonus still had his cruiser elsewhere. The fact that only his personal craft had arrived indicated that maybe the General himself had decided to pay a visit.

One of the plasma cannons on the underbelly of the ship fired. A searing ball of blue energy erupted forth, leaving a light blue vapour trail in its wake. The blast struck the front of the administration building within the compound, causing the entire front section of the structure to erupt in flame. Smoke and debris billowed forth, the ground shaking underfoot, fragments of brick and metal raining down all around. As soon as the shooting started, so did the panic. The frightened screams of civilians could be heard from beyond the compound as the city came under alien attack.

Wheeljack looked to Ultra Magnus.

"You take the Seal," the Autobot Commander ordered. "I'll get Bumblebee and Doubletake to back you up."

"Where do I take it?" Wheeljack asked. Cyclonus' ship continued to descend, its plasma cannons charging.

"Anywhere but here. Wildstrike and I will cover you." Ultra Magnus was entrusting him with the ancient relic. Wheeljack wondered himself whether that was a good idea or not, although he was not about to say so. He had no idea where he would take the Seal, but he knew keeping away from the Decepticon ship would be a good start.

"We should find General Williamson," Rafael interjected. "He's in the city..."

The conversation was cut short when two plasma cannons fired, the blasts of energy slamming into the ground nearby. The Autobots stumbled and scattered, as did Jack and Rafael, with Wheeljack racing for the front gate, the Seal clutched in one hand. Rafael and Jack followed after him, their hands over their heads in an effort to protect them from the rain of dirt and chunks of tarmac that rained down upon them from the explosions. Wheeljack made his way out onto the street, looking back at Ultra Magnus and Wildstrike, both of whom had started taking shots at the ship. It would be a fairly futile effort, but it was enough of a distraction to allow Wheeljack to slip away.

Most of the police officers out here had taken cover by their vehicles as Wheeljack came running out onto the road. He did his best to avoid stepping on anyone, flattening a few parked police cars as he did so, before getting onto an empty chunk of road. Here, he transformed, ensuring that the Seal wound up in the trunk. He flung his doors open, allowing both Rafael and Jack to clamber inside. As soon as they were in, he shut his doors and hit the accelerator, flooring it as another blast of plasma struck the front wall of the compound behind him.

A few police cars were sent into the air from the force of the explosion, the stone wall vaporizing within the heat, rubble falling down all over the road. Most of the cops here began to run for it, hopelessly outmatched as they were.

Wheeljack went speeding down the road ahead, passing by industrial zones, his mind abuzz as he tried to work out where he should be going. "Anywhere but here" hardly made things easy for him. As it stood, he had scratched the idea of heading into the desert, since the ship would have a far easier time of finding him out in the open. The city was the only chance he had, he would just have to hope that the people would evacuate before any significant damage could be caused.

So he kept driving. He put as much distance between him and the ship as he could, and he kept going. As long as Ultra Magnus and Wildstrike kept it preoccupied, he should be all right. All the while he had an ancient relic and two humans he had to keep an eye on.

This day just keeps getting better and better, he thought.

-----------------------------

"The Seal moves into the city."

Hardtop looked up from his seat. The transport ship rumbled around him, the cramped confines providing only as much space as was necessary. Star Saber stood down the end near the pilot's seat, viewing the holographic displays as the transports sensors locked onto the relic in question. At the rear of the craft, the exit ramp had been lowered, providing a sweeping view of the city far below them. The transport itself was only small, one of three that Cyclonus' cruiser had docked. Since the ground-bridge was out of commission, these old, rickety transports were the only real means they had to get from the cruiser to the ground.

Hardtop was a fairly average-sized Decepticon, with broad shoulders and a green-and-purple finish. His optics were shielded underneath a reflective yellow visor, his mouth concealed underneath a battle-plate. He was one of several Decepticon soldiers on board the transport, all of them followers of Star Saber. They had departed shortly after Cyclonus and his loyal soldiers had, keeping on their trail in order to determine where exactly they were headed and why. Now it was clear: the Seal of Nova Prime was in the city below, and with it the means of restoring Nova Prime.

"Autobot life signatures," the pilot announced. "About five of them. One carries the Seal."

"We will intercept him," Star Saber declared. "Bring us down, here." He pointed to a spot on the main display, where a map of the city had formed. "That should put us in their path."

Hardtop checked over his rifle. It was a long, grey-metal one, capable of firing a dense blast of plasma at supersonic speeds. A precision weapon with the power of punching a hole through most known armours. Only a skilled marksman could utilise such an unwieldy weapon to its full potential. Hardtop had been shooting since he was a youngling. His senses of sight and hearing were abnormally sensitive compared to the average Cybertronian. These abnormalities, as well as his skill with a weapon, had turned him into a very effective soldier, one who specialised in reconnaissance in particular. Cyclonus had happily accepted him into his ranks after Hardtop had been found living out in the wastes on one of Cybertron's moons, years after the war had ended.

Now Hardtop was in a position to make a serious difference. Instead of raids and scouting missions where little of use would be found, Hardtop had the opportunity to take part in something greater than him. Autobots, Decepticons, it would not matter when Nova Prime returned. With him, Cybertron could be returned to not only its former glory, but to something even greater than that. The Cybertronian race as a whole would be able to claim its rightful place as the superior race in the galaxy, as Nova Prime had always intended.

"The humans have certainly detected us by now," Vortex said. The Combaticon sat in the seat across from Hardtop. He looked over to Star Saber, who had turned around to face the squad. "And Cyclonus will definitely know we're here now. We could end up shooting at our own."

"What does it matter?" Star Saber asked, one optic ridge raised in an inquisitive manner, making for a rare display of emotion from him. "We will do what we must to claim the Seal. It has been my mission for millennia. And it has become your mission as well. The humans are the last thing that should concern you, Vortex." He paused, regarding the soldiers seated before him with his usually unreadable gaze. All that showed of his face whilst he wore the battle-plate were his cold blue optics, both devoid of any real emotion. It was his voice that portrayed his passion for the task at hand, the refined tones having long since worked their way into Hardtop's head, persuading him to the cause. Sometimes he had doubts, sometimes he saw this whole 'cause' as nothing more than a means for Star Saber to attain glory for himself; however, the more he pondered what the Autobot pontiff had preached in the past, the less those doubts affected him until they were finally gone completely. They only came back now and again, now in particular as Hardtop headed into a fight. Star Saber had assured him that warriors on their path would be accepted into the great beyond upon death. They would be dying for a noble cause, as what could be more noble than reforming the glory of your race?

"Once the Seal of Nova Prime is in our possession, the differences between an 'Autobot' and a 'Decepticon' will become meaningless," Star Saber announced. "Those who believe will be saved. They will be the founders of the new age of Cybertron, with Nova Prime guiding the way. And those who do not believe will be judged and will be killed, lest they repent. There will be many who do not believe and many of those will refuse to change their ways. So they will die, sparing the new Cybertron of their atheism and the degeneracy it brings. None of them will be able to stand against Nova Prime."

Vortex nodded his head in agreement. Hardtop did the same, along with the other Decepticons on board. They would be doing a service, ridding the galaxy of the non-believers. Hardtop wondered if this included other species, such as humans, although he decided against asking. It was likely not the best time, not when they were about to land. The transport was setting down in a courtyard behind a few tall buildings, and through the open rear ramp Hardtop could see several panicked humans fleeing as the transport descended. Some of them did not run or scream and instead stood watching in awe as the large metal soldiers began rushing out of the craft. Hardtop was the first out, scanning the surrounding area with his optics. He noticed that one of the humans was holding up a cell-phone and was standing about thirty metres away, apparently fearless in the face of these Cybertronian warriors. The camera in the phone was most certainly filming the entire thing. Then again, secrecy was not something they cared much for anymore.

"Find a vantage point, Hardtop," Vortex said from behind him. "There are plenty to choose from."

Hardtop nodded in response. Indeed there were plenty, judging from the tall buildings around them. Utilising the grapple-gun built into his left arm, Hardtop picked the nearest of the buildings and sent the hook flying up high before it found home on the side of the building, close to the roof. There, it embedded itself into a concrete section, allowing Hardtop to go flying up after it.

The panic amongst the human population here was well underway.

---------------------------

The surface compound of the Vault facility was a mess. Carver had made his way into a garage located within an outbuilding, at the far edge of the compound. Yet even here, there had been damage done, with the garage door having been blown halfway off of its motor. Despite this, the matte black bulletproof Escalade parked inside was intact. The stray rocket that had struck just beyond the door had left a small smouldering crater in the asphalt. Carver regarded the scene outside, with spot fires burning and plumes of black smoke wafting up high. The Autobots had moved out of the compound and judging from the volume of the sounds of gunfire and explosions, they were not too far off.

Carver pulled open the passenger side door and climbed inside. Set into the dashboard was a computer, one that he switched on immediately while Van Cleef clambered into the driver's seat. The doors shut and the Captain started the engine. The large four-wheel drive shot forth with an abrupt lurch as Van Cleef hit the accelerator a bit harder than Carver would have preferred. Speeding across the wrecked compound, Carver kept his gaze on the computer as a map of the city appeared on the display. The Autobots were marked and he noticed with some interest that one of them was far further ahead than the others, likely barrelling down the freeway and into the city. He knew that this Autobot was the one they wanted. With satellite tracking, it would be fairly easy to keep tabs on all of the Autobots, and their human friends for that matter.

"Where are we headed?" Van Cleef asked. He sent the car through one of the side gates before turning the steering wheel sharply, causing the whole vehicle to power slide in such a way that it faced the direction of the road. With this done, Van Cleef was able to hit the accelerator a lot harder in order to send them speeding along. Several police cars were scattered around, some of which had been flipped over, others set alight and a few of them simply bearing large, jagged holes from the stray rounds they had caught. Two of the Autobots had gone onto the road outside the front of the compound, firing their weapons at the Decepticon vessel hovering overhead.

"One of the Autobots has Darby with them, by the look of it," Carver said. "For protection, no doubt. And they've got the Seal." That thing was letting off significant energy readings. Carver had had it locked up underground for a very good reason, after all.

A Decepticon, bulky and mostly grey in colour, dropped from the rear of the Decepticon ship at that point, rappelling along a thick cable. It landed on the road ahead, causing Van Cleef to swing the steering wheel one way rapidly. The Decepticon paid them no attention and instead started shooting a large energy cannon at the two Autobots outside of the compound. The car went swerving around its legs before Van Cleef brought the wheel back, setting the vehicle straight.

"Head into the city," Carver said.

Van Cleef turned right up ahead, taking them onto a road leading directly into the heart of Las Vegas. The industrial sites thinned out here, turning into suburbs as they went. As they did, Carver took the opportunity to survey the building panic that was evident on the streets. People rushed by, as did cars, with civilians hauling bags and others locking themselves inside. Police cars shot past Carver and Van Cleef, heading in the opposite direction.

"Fat lot of good they'll do," Van Cleef commented.

The chaos on the streets was to be expected. Humans were chaotic and unpredictable by nature, especially when faced with a threat as great as the one that now bore down on the outskirts of the city. Fight or flight indeed, and judging from the look of things, many were opting for the latter. Naturally, they were not being particularly orderly about it. People were running about the streets, some were packing their cars with belongings in obvious preparation for evacuation. This is the sort of wake-up call the people need, Carver thought. To show them that there are greater enemies out there than any 'terrorist'. There needed to be order, proper order that no democratic government bogged down in bureaucracy could give. There had to be a government that was free of the corruption so prevalent in democracy, one where politicians could not be bought and paid for, one where those in charge cared for the people of the nation more than they did for filling their bank accounts. There had to be a strong leader, someone who could bring humanity forwards, who would ensure that the species as a whole could properly defend itself from alien threats.

Carver had been planning things for years. He had not come this far for someone like Darby to ruin it all. And to think, he had had high hopes for the young man. His loyalties to the Autobots had apparently been too tough to break.

The Colonel's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of his cell-phone ringing. He reached into a pocket in his trousers and pulled it out. He did not need to look at the number listed on the display to know who it was. Accepting the call, he placed the phone to his ear. The familiar and agitated voice of the Vice President blared through the speaker, loud enough for Carver to move the phone away from it by about an inch.

"Mr. Vice President, you do not need to raise your voice, I'm right here," Carver said.

"Why is there an alien ship floating over Las Vegas?" Naturally, the Vice President was upset. This had not been in the plan. Certainly not his, whereas Carver could only have put in place precautionary measures to combat such an eventuality.

"The Cybertronians have made a move against the Taskforce," Carver explained. He had not told the Vice President everything, only what he needed to know. "You should have expected such an eventuality. I told you something like this may happen."

"People are demanding answers, Colonel. And I haven't got the ones they want."

"Things will be under control soon enough, Mr. Vice President," Carver said. He stated this dryly and did not even bother to sound reassuring. The Vice President was no more a tool than the Decepticons had been. Carver found the man to be irritable at best, typical of the emasculated politicians of this day and age. No backbone whatsoever, crumbling at the first sign of aggressive resistance. No wonder the government could hardly get anything done properly.

"It doesn't look like they're anywhere near 'under control'," the Vice President countered.

Up ahead, Van Cleef turned onto a main road. Here, the traffic had reached a standstill in both lanes. However, Van Cleef turned the vehicle onto the sidewalk and the Captain began honking the horn repeatedly as he sent the Escalade racing across the uneven pavement. Pedestrians jumped aside, although one man was clipped by the front of the car and fell over. Van Cleef barely gave him a second glance and kept driving.

"I have reinforcements on their way," Carver said. "Taskforce troopers, armed with the tools required to bring down the alien attackers. In the meantime, Mr. Vice President, I suggest you get the Air Force out here. They may be able to do something about the ship."

"I've already given that order. But people are getting hurt over there, Colonel. Civilians caught in the crossfire."

"Blame the aliens, not me." Carver narrowed his eyes. He was already tiring of this conversation.

"You told me..."

"Sometimes things happen beyond our control," Carver interrupted. "You should have thought about that before you told me you wanted to become President." He took the phone away from his ear and hung up. He looked over to Van Cleef, who had since set the car back onto the road now that the traffic had cleared. They were still in the suburbs, with a petrol station at the corner ahead. The line to use the pumps had become several cars long.

"What are you going to do about him, Colonel?" Van Cleef asked.

Carver did not hesitate in his reply.

"What do you think, Captain?"