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For the entire ride, Barricade was silent, and Catherine did not complain. While she had kept herself bundled up—arms held tight, and teeth clenched—she desperately wanted to curse, lash out, or something, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even kick the back of his seats. There honestly wouldn’t have been any point, and he most likely would have thrown her about the back in response. She had nothing to say to him beyond profanity, either; she remembered very well what he had done, and each passing moment only made the memories stronger. With so much against her, she resigned to silence instead.
It was eventually broken, though, as his ironic vehicular form pulled up in front of a pristine, white building with an odd fin-like shape to the tower. Catherine didn’t recognize it or the name, but the place was evidently where she was going to stay as Barricade pulled up sharply, opened his back door, and barked for her to get out. She did so agonizingly slow—if only to annoy him—and found two men in black suits waiting for her up on the steps. Though they didn’t make any movements to come for her, she knew they were expecting her to walk up. Her “escort” was still behind her, too, and she knew he wouldn’t leave until she was captive within the building. Scowling, she unfurled her arms and stormed up the steps.
She didn’t look to the men as she passed them by, and she was almost a little disappointed they didn’t try to grab her. She would have loved to sock the ever living crap out of them, if only to vent her frustrations. However, they simply followed dutifully behind her, all the way through the door. She paused, though, when she heard tires screeching and watched as Barricade sped off—no doubt back to his traitorous masters. Her scowl deepened and, with a nudge from one of the men, she continued on into the lobby of the building, although they remained by the entrance doors.
Whatever the place was, it was certainly wasn’t any old office building. It was too clean and fancy for that with its obviously important furniture. Whoever owned it was impeccably rich, too, but she still couldn’t think of any names. They had to have been one of their traitors, though, but she had been so certain all of them were dead or imprisoned. She was wrong, of course, but it still didn’t sit well that a traitor with so much power and money had gone unnoticed.
“Ah, there she is,” a rather heavily accented Russian voice rang out, and Catherine turned her head sharply to find a man with a bit of girth and a black beard to match his full head of hair rising up from one of the lobby’s fancy chairs. She thought he might be the traitor, being that he looked very well off, clad with a slick, black suit and glossed hair that was common to the members of higher living business men. The two brutish goons behind him said much the same, and she regarded them carefully as they followed him over to her.
“And who I do I owe the pleasure of meeting?” she inquired coolly, not bothering to hide her disdain for the man.
The Russian grinned humorously, “There’s no need to worry about names. I’m just here to make sure you get to your room and your stay is comfortable until Mr. Gould arrives.”
So this guy isn’t the head honcho—Gould is. But who is he? She silently mused, eyes narrowed as she ran the name through her memories. She didn’t recall ever seeing or hearing it except maybe a quick glance in some paper or internet news feed. She didn’t care much for the business of America, so she couldn’t be sure. Even if she did know, she wasn’t given long to ponder as one of the man’s goons suddenly came up and snatched one of her arms. She glared at him at once, though could not pull her arm away easily.
“Let me go,” she growled and then looked to Russian man when he chuckled.
“Now, now, Ms. Wolf. Let’s not get testy. We’re just going to escort you to Mr. Gould’s personal room to make sure you don’t do anything reckless. You are very valuable after all, and we can’t have anything bad happen to you. Bring her along boys.”
Having had quite enough of being treated like a rag doll, Catherine let the goon tug her once before ramming her fist into his throat. He let out a croak, and then groaned when she brought her knee into his groin. She had to leave him be as the other grabbed for her, but found only air as she ducked down and shoved her elbow into his gut. The blow didn’t do much, but her fist into his nose made up for it, as did swinging her arm into the side of his head. With both men out of the way, she brushed off her clothes and turned to the Russian man, whom was no longer as amused or as calm as before. In fact, she would dare say she saw a bead of sweat dribble down his brow. He had nothing to worry about; the other men were making their way over and she wouldn’t be able to take them all. The Russian wasn’t worth her time, either, and so she met his gaze with a cold stare.
“I don’t need an ‘escort’. Just tell me where the room is.”
She could see him swallow before he gestured behind him, “The main show-case room—just down the hall and to the right.”
Catherine made a point to pause as she walked by the Russian man and make a feint jab in his direction. She chuckled a little, giving him a knowing look, and continued on down the hall alone. The goons had listened and she entered into the room the man had described without a problem. Indeed it was a show-case room; more than a handful of fancy, classic cars that had been shined to perfection were situated around the floor. She briefly thought of scratching them or busting their headlights, but she decided against it and walked her way through to one of the lush couches in the center of the room. They were comfortable as expected, and she situated herself so she could stare out the large windows which extended from the floor to the ceiling, giving her a clear view of the city.
It was burning now; the night sky was lit with a red glow and smoke was obscuring the stars. She could just imagine all the screams as the people died either by Decepticon claws or blaster or the collapse of buildings. She knew there was worse to come, too, and that made her stomach churn more than ever before. It sank when she spotted a large shadow moving in the darkness just outside. It didn’t take long before she made out a pair of orbs which glowed blood red and she knew there were Decepticons patrolling outside. It made her wonder briefly if her captors really were working for the enemy or were prisoners themselves. It was overcome by spite and anger in the next moment, however.
When the Decepticon vanished from her sight, she spared the city one final look. A building collapsed in the distance, and she had to turn away. She closed her eyes then, breathing in deeply to push back the bile trying to come back up her throat. It wasn’t easy; there were almost too many emotions trothing through her stomach to fully soothe it. At the very least her anger had been vented some, although it still lingered there, ready to explode given the chance. Fear was strong, too, but she had long since learned how to bite it back, and so worry took its place.
Footsteps from the entryway caught her attention and she looked to find two of the goons taking up point on both sides of the door, their arms clasped in front of them like actual guards. Neither of them were the ones she struck, but they would be spared from hostilities regardless. There was no point in her lashing out right now; she wouldn’t be able to escape—it was one thing to catch two of them off guard, but there were bound to more—and then there was the fact she was stuck in enemy territory with a Cybertronian guard or possibly multiple guards outside. If she left, a Decepticon would surely kill her, and so, while she loathed it, she was going to have to stay here until a far better opportunity came along—particularly involving the Autobots.
With a sigh, she leaned back her head and closed her eyes.
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-O-
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If the situation weren’t so dire, Sam might have thought Dylan Gould was compensating for something when he ran up the man’s backyard pasture—it was too big to be even considered a yard—and came upon the outside party décor. There were a few people dressed exceedingly well, but he ignored them even if they gave him startled or curious glanced when he power walked by. Ultimately, it wasn’t of much concern as he raced through the open patio doors and dodged into the halls, searching desperately for a particular blonde-haired young woman. He’d come for her—just as Lennox had said he should since his parents were taken care of— and he wasn’t going to leave without her.
Then—a voice from down the hall. A familiar one. One he disliked greatly. It was the voice of Dylan Gould, and if his suspicions about the man were right, he would be hounding after his girlfriend. Sure enough, he spun around a door and saw the back of said man spinning away to sit in the chair beside Carly, whom did not look all that happy to be there. For that, Sam felt a flicker of happiness and reassurance, which, in turn, gave him the courage to storm over. He didn’t falter even when the man’s eyes ogled over Carly and then glanced at him—almost like a challenge.
“Now, if I were him, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for one second,” he purred, and though the blonde laughed, it was not sincere.
“It’s funny,” Sam began, and the young woman looked up with delighted surprise. “I was just thinking on the way over here I could really use some advice from Dylan, and there he is. Can I speak to you, Carly?”
Dylan gestured to the empty chair next to him calmly, “Welcome. Please, sit down. Have a drink.”
The young man paused, the anger and frustration evident in his eyes, and it pooled over as he took in a deep breath of air. He looked to the older man, his features all but screaming he was fed up with it all.
“You know what? I don’t need a drink. Or a car or a job. I just need to speak to my girlfriend alone. Is that okay with you, Mr. Inappropriate?” he barked back, holding his hand out for Carly. To his pleasure, Dylan settled back into his chair, annoyed but ultimately beaten for now. The older man licked his lips, but said nothing, and the blonde-haired woman looked between them, shocked more than anything. She waited only a second before excusing herself and taking Sam’s hand in the hopes of finding out what the hell he was doing and what was going on. She asked him as much when they took off.
“I’ll tell you outside,” Sam replied quickly, and Carly’s curiosity turned to worry when she saw the weariness in his features and felt the increase in his pace. Behind them, Dylan smiled smugly and rose to follow them, much more calmly and untaxed.
“I really think I can help you, Sam,” the older man hummed, but the two continued on through the main hall. “I remember a talk I had with my dad once about tough choices.”
Sam scowled, “Yeah, now’s not the time. We’ll set something up, though.”
“Of course, it was way back when my dad’s firm was in charge of budget review and accounting for NASA.”
Normally, such a string of words wouldn’t have bothered Sam. Even if he hadn’t received the papers from Jerry Wang at his work, the words still wouldn’t have mattered all that much. However, the way in which Dylan had said it—that way in which he stressed the last word... It was too uncanny. He’d made it sound far too important for a time when the Decepticons were attacking the city. Hell—why was he still having a party? Surely it was well known by the surrounding area that things were going to hell, and yet, all these people were here acting so calm as if they were expecting it. That wasn’t possible, though.
Dylan smiled when Sam turned around, “You see, the thing that he taught me was: when it’s not your war, you join the side that’s going to win.”
“Move,” was all the young man said, his heartbeat sky rocketing, and Carly did not object. Rather, she moved as fast as her heels would allow as her heart raced just as far. She didn’t even to know what Sam did to realize the situation had just changed and that her boss was very dangerous, and so she did not slow down as the young man practically sprinted with her out the front door to the driveway where she directed him towards her car.
The doors were open and waiting, so both quickly dived in, Sam in the driver’s seat while Carly took the passenger side. They took off quickly and were just about onto the main driveway outside the front courtyard gate when—to their horror—the vehicle wrestled control away from Sam. The next thing they knew, the metal around them shifted and parted, and they were thrown onto the circular lawn. Both screamed as the Decepticon loomed over them, its sharp claws dangerously close. Sam backed away quickly, but then lurched forward when the metal monster lunged towards Carly. He cried out for her, but it was too late; the mech had her and transformed back into its vehicular form with the blonde trapped inside.
“Sam! I can’t get out!” she cried, and the young man pulled hard at the door, but to no avail. He begged for others to get help, but they either ignored or even turned away from him. None were surprised or even panicking about it, and it was then he knew things were very, very bad. It became even more evident when a metallic bird with piercing, red optics suddenly shot at him, nearly slicing off his head with its sharpened feathers and talons. He shouted for help a second time, but, again, none came and the others were uncaring to his plight. Stuck, he turned his gaze to Dylan, whom waltzed towards him with the gait of one who had won and knew it.
“You really think you’re the first man ever asked to join the noble alien cause?” the older man hummed as a group of goons in black followed him from behind.
“Who are you?!” Sam demanded, but he was shaking and he knew they could see it.
Dylan smiled a little, “Do you know why we’ve not been back to the moon since 1972? Because these, two—Laserbeak and Soundwave—they came to my dad and they told him to do some creative accounting; to make it way too expensive to ever go back. So, he and the others shut down the American and Russian space programs, and they’ve been our clients ever since.
“And with my father gone, the responsibility fell to me, and we’ve done quite a lot since then. I don’t suppose you recall the ‘Cybertech’ incident a few months ago? That was quite the plan to orchestrate. I couldn’t have done it without them, and it’s a shame it didn’t pan out. Well, I suppose that’s not true. We did get rid a lot of those pesky NEST people, which did make it much easier to finish them off in D.C.”
“You… you helped them kill people?” Sam breathed and charged towards him. He was stopped by the goons, whom grasped and shook him around roughly.
“You think they’d give you a choice?” the older man replied bitterly, but then shrugged it away when the young man was thrown back to the ground. “Besides, it’s not like I personally participated. I am a liaison. I liaise... It’s hostile takeover time now, Sam.”
Just feet from them, metallic tentacle-like limbs with red orbs and sharp, clamped ends began to emerge from within the vehicle and curled towards Carly. The young woman cried out for Sam as one came far too close and brushed against her cheek. She lurched back as far as she could go, but she was trapped and they loomed ominously around her.
“Let her go!” Sam screamed and charged for a second time, only to be stopped yet again. Dylan came closer, safe with his goons holding the young man, and met his eyes coolly.
“I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, Sam. You’re the one spy I’ve never been able to provide as someone close to the Autobots,” he mused, though paused when the young man summoned the courage to spit in his face. Within Soundwave, Carly begged him not to comply even though the metal tentacles came closer. Dylan glanced over briefly, but then sighed as he turned back to Sam, anger brewing. “You see, this attitude of yours is why I wanted someone more civilized—like your friend Catherine. However, she’s serving another purpose, so you’re the next best thing. Luckily, you’ll do what we want. They all do.”
Sam’s eyes had gone wide at the name of the redhead and he wanted to demand to know what the older man meant by that, but Dylan nodded to his henchmen and they tightened their hold on Sam’s arms. The older man then slapped the younger’s cheek and snatched up the collar of his shirt, lifting him up. The young man groaned as their eyes met and Sam saw something unexpected. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, but then Dylan spoke.
“They will slaughter her. Your friend—they’ll spare her because they need her, but not Carly. Do you understand me? In the time it takes you to blink, they’ll do it to her and they’ll do it to me. So you show a little respect when someone offers you a job!” the older man roared, and Sam knew exactly what he’d seen. It was fear. Dylan was afraid. He held it back well, though, and Sam did the same even as the man holding him lifted his arm. “Wrist. Listen up, Sam. You are to track down Optimus Prime because you’re the one human he trusts now, and you will ask one question: how does he intend to fight back? What are his strategies; his tactics; everything!”
As he spoke, the watch on the older man’s wrist shifted and change, transforming into a scorpion-like creature which clicked a few times before scuttling onto Sam’s wrist. The young man watched warily as it curled around his wrist, becoming a watch once more. The moment it did, the most painful electrical shock the young man had ever felt coursed through his body. The henchmen released him then, and he fell to the ground at once, his limbs all going through spasms. He couldn’t even cry out in pain as the jolt seized up his throat. He could only sprawl at their feet, helpless.
“Has a nasty little bite, doesn’t it? It’s very high-tech. It lets us see what you see, hear what you hear, and it taps your nervous system... So if you so much as try and signal the Autobots,” Dylan spoke, pausing to allow the wrist to demonstrate—a painful shock that sent Sam flat and twitching. He sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you. Relationships have consequences. I am here because of my father. She is here because of you.”
Sam looked up at Carly, whom was scratched by one of the tendrils, “Stop, stop! Stop! Stop!”
“Soundwave, would you please?” the older man inquired of the vehicle, and the mech complied. The tendrils retracted and the blonde was only trapped now. Dylan looked back down at the young man. “Sam, do your job. Carly will be safe. I give you my word.”
“W-what about C-Catherine?” he managed to sputter out, but the older man merely gave him a half-smile.
“I’m afraid I can’t give my word, but you shouldn’t worry about her. She’s beyond any of us now.”
Although his body still shook, Sam rose up and stared Dylan dead in the eyes, a fire blazing strongly within him despite everything.
“I’ll kill you. You have my word.”
Dylan turned away, “Pawns don’t take the King, Sam. Don’t let us or her down.”
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-O-
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Charlotte Mearing had been having a terrible day by all means. Not only had she almost been blown up almost over twelve hours ago, the NEST base had been completely destroyed, D.C. had suffered immense damage and now the Decepticons were on the move all over the world for whatever God-forsaken reason Sentinel had found fit. She didn’t dare think it was world domination, although it was likely the case. To make matters worse, Sentinel’s message to renounce the Autobots had been passed along about an hour ago, and it was not looking good. Things were drastically more difficult and awful than before, and she had a very good idea of where it was all going, and it wasn’t up. However, for once in her life she was holding onto hope, although all reason stood to deny her such grace. The small flicker was staying strong, though, and help was on the way now that one Samuel Witwicky had emerged from the small entourage of the vehicles that had rolled up to their hangar.
“We’ll debrief you in transit,” she told him as he approached.
The young man chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I really don’t see how I can be of any help. I mean, you guys seem pretty busy. We could just do this another time, I think.”
Mearing let out a breath of air, meaning to say something, but paused when Sam’s arm suddenly spun over the document in her hands and then he turned away. She narrowed her eyes, although she knew the boy was… odd. However, she had more pressing matters to worry about than his unusual behavior, so she brushed it off.
“I have underestimated you at every turn,” she told him, and the young man looked at her, confused. It seemed he had finally exchanged his foolishness for modesty, and she approved of it. “Catherine informed me it was you who ultimately warned all of us. You also knew that Sentinel was the key. You, a kid just out of college, figured out what a group of the best the world had to offer could not.”
She looked as though she might continue on, but a man on the other side of the desks that served as a makeshift work station called out for her. She made a gesture with her head for Sam to follow and she sauntered around. The young man, however, remained where he was.
“Who am I? Hey, you’re the expert. I’m just a walking security risk,” he replied, his voice desperate with hope that Mearing would notice. She didn’t, and the watch shocked him not for the first nor last time. It went a step further, however, and forced him to tumble over the desks and land beside the older woman, whom finally could not deny his oddity anymore.
“Are you all right?” she inquired, a flicker of doubt in her choice settling in.
Strained, he replied, “Yes.”
“No you’re not. You’re sweating.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he barked back quickly and, mind working fast, continued, “I’m sweating because I’m nervous. I’m nervous because you got me in here with this information. Okay, I’m a Twitter junkie. I blog everything. I can’t keep a secret to save my life.”
Mearing half-raised a brow, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“That’s the truth. I’m telling you.”
“Director,” Mearing’s assistant piped up. “The Pentagon’s calling in 15.”
“Come with me, Sam,” the older woman stated plainly as she walked towards a camera set. The young man was not far behind, although he was sweating more now. She could not put away the feeling something was wrong with him, although he insisted otherwise, and she didn’t fully trust him yet. He may very well blab, and in this moment she could not allow that. The Decepticons could learn nothing of their plans. However, Sam was also useful. He was smarter than he looked, and, as of right now, he was the most experienced with Cybertronians.
“The President is calling soon so you’ll stand there,” Mearing spoke, gesturing to a spot out of the camera’s view. “Don’t speak unless I say so and don’t do anything either. Understood?”
“No problems, ma’am. Sure thing. I prefer it that way,” he replied quickly, the strain appearing in his voice again. Once more, she raised her brow, but let it be as she finished up the preparations for the call. She kept her eye on the young man, and noticed his right arm was having a difficult time remaining still, but otherwise he was doing as told. Perhaps there was hope yet. However, there wasn’t much time to dwell on it as her assistant suddenly came running over and changed the channel on one of their TV’s. To her shock—and a bit of horror—the words at the bottom of the screen showed what Mearing knew and feared would happen.
“It’s been a remarkable series of events today at the Capitol,” the female news reporter commented, and Sam moved behind Mearing, his stomach dropping. “Just moments ago, legislation was passed to exile the Autobots from our shores. The NEST military alliance with them is officially over. In the words of the House Majority Leader, the sponsor of today’s resolution, ‘we cannot in good conscience…’”
“What? They can’t do this!” Sam breathed and turned to Mearing, whom was now on the phone. “You gotta tell them. They can’t do that!”
She pulled the device away from her ear, “Okay. It’s Official. It’s a go, people!”
“They’re our allies! The Autobots fought for us! They fought with us!”
“And where are we now? Facing an invasion with an enemy that has the means to deploy countless more. Look, I understand where you’re coming from. The Autobots were the best defense we had, but not anymore, and I have to take into account the millions of people—humans just like you—whose lives are now at stake. I can’t back the Autobots. I’m sorry, Sam. Truly, I am, but this is how it is. Now, I need you to understand that and come with me.”
The young man looked ready to defy her, and a part of her respected him for that. Mearing remembered a time when she had been young and filled with such a fire—so willing to forsake the many for those few she cared for. That was the fool’s way, though. People died in wars when they thought like that. She had learned it long ago, and now it was Sam’s time to learn. Sure enough, he felt its brutal sting as he breathed in deeply and wiped at his face before putting his hands on his hips.
“The Autobots don’t even have a way off the planet,” he spoke at last, strained even more than before.
“But they do. Have you ever heard of their ship, the Xanthium?” she replied, and a flicker of recognition appeared in his eyes. “It’s what brought the second wave of Autobots and it’s been under NASA’s care and study ever since. We linked it with a decommissioned shuttle to maintain military control until they’re gone, and that’s where we’re going.”
“To what? Send them off?”
She met his gaze again, and pitied the sadness in them, “It’s all we can do at this point.”
Mearing turned away from him then, heading for the airplane stationed just feet away. Sam did not follow at first. Instead, he cursed, looked to the TV, which was still going on how the Autobots were going to leave. They were doing exactly what the Decepticons and Sentinel wanted. They were nothing more than helpless pawns in this game of war. He knew it in his head and his heart and he hated it.
With another curse, he turned and followed Mearing onto the plane.
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-O-
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The sun was setting on the Florida NASA launch site when Sam and Mearing arrived in their plane and were shuffled into the military vehicle entourage. Had the situation been any other, Sam might have enjoyed visiting Florida for the first time, let alone the launch site of the United States’ space program. However, in the wake of recent events he was silent and wishing all of this was a bad dream. It had to be—how else could the Autobots be leaving? How else could Sentinel have betrayed them? How else could Catherine and Carly be in trouble? How else could he be here right now? It had to be a crazy nightmare, and yet it wasn’t. It was all real.
Mearing had left him alone, and Sam was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he’d have any kind words to say as their ride made its way up the gravel road and came to a stop where it met pavement. He and the older woman climbed out and were presented with a peculiar site; a large piece of what looked like the end of a rocket was being moved by a giant wheeled, flat-top transport. Also on it where three rather robust Cybertronians with red, green, and blue armor whom were shouting profanities and death threats at the humans walking with them.
“These guys are the Wreckers. They take care of the Xanthium. We don’t let them off the base much ‘cause they’re assholes,” Mearing explained, although Sam already had a good idea from stories he heard.
“You gotta pull that, ya nancy wanker!” the green one growled at one of the humans.
The red one joined in, “It’s time to kill him!”
For a moment, Sam convinced himself the Autobots leaving was a dream. It was almost too easy in the way the Wreckers were so relaxed among them; acting no different than ever. The thought was weak and it broke moments later as he followed Mearing to join the group of people walking with the transport vehicle. He ignored the others for the most part, content with mulling in his own thoughts, but he was pulled from them when a familiar voice rang out. He looked and saw an even more familiar face.
“Epps!” he called out and the black man grinned as Sam hopped over, a small flicker of happiness pushing through him. “You look ridiculous! What are you even doing her?”
“I retired form NEST,” the man laughed and held out his hand for a clasp and he got one. It was too strong, and he gave the younger man an odd look as he asked for his hand back. He got that, too. “What the hell was that, huh? Anyways, now I just consult to run interference for them. No more combat and aliens shooting at my ass. I got a dream job.”
The two paused when the vehicles and everyone else did, the Autobots noting it was time to get off the planet and started the preparations to heft the part off the transport. Epps shook his head with a sigh as he looked to Sam.
"Kicking the Autobots out. Can you believe this is happening? I for one can’t decide what’s more unbelievable; the fact they’re actually leaving, or ‘Cat ain’t here blowing a gasket to get them to stop.”
The young man had opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Epps raised a brow, but it slowly lowered as Sam’s expression fell and a deep sorrow filled his eyes.
“You don’t… didn’t Lennox tell you?”
The black man moved closer, “Tell me what? Sam, you answer me right now.”
“They got her, Epps,” the young man swallowed hard. “They took Catherine.”
Sam held back a yelp as the man grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, his eyes dark and blazing with rage. His grip was too tight to be freed from, and the young man almost regretted letting that slip.
“How the hell did they get her!? Where is she!? Where did they take her?”
“She’s back in D.C. Sentinel has her. He’s the one who got her! She’s okay, though. They need her. They’ll keep her alive.”
The rage in Epps eyes cooled some and he released his hold on Sam. He was not calmed, although he did turn away. He stormed off away from the others, ignoring their looks and calls. Sam could only watch him go, understanding the man’s pain and his anger, and knowing there was nothing to be done. He knew it all too well. He couldn’t help the Autobots. He couldn’t help Catherine. He couldn’t help Carly. He couldn’t even help himself.
“Sam! Come on!” Mearing shouted, pulling the young man from his dour thoughts. He shook his head, spared Epps one final glance, and hurried after the older woman. The transport could go no further, so the three Wreckers were forced to bring the part themselves, and it was those three the group of humans followed into the compound closest to the launch platform, though it was still far off at a safe distance. Inside was bustling with activity as workers made the last of preparations for the launch. The other Autobots weren’t around, and Sam could only assume they were by the shuttle. They would see them soon enough, as Mearing led them straight through the complex. They had to pause, though, as another familiar face emerged, and said face was more than happy to see the feminine part of their party.
“Charlotte Mearing!” their new visitor purred, smiling all-too-happily as he rolled up in his wheelchair, another man with a braced neck walking right behind him.
The older woman spared only a small flicker of a grin, “Agent Simmons. Former Agent Simmons. So I see you survived Washington.”
“Washington, Egypt, and heartbreak. I survive. I will survive,” he replied, and then looked to Sam for a moment before wheeling around Mearing and, sizing her up with a hint of lust that made the dark-haired young man want to gag a little. “They’re bringing everybody in, kid. Putting all the Intel on the table. It’s why I’m here. It’s why you’re here. And if you, my dear lovely lady, think deporting twenty Autobots—or should I say seventeen with those fly-boys gone— is gonna solve a damn thing…”
“It’s out of my hands,” she told him plainly—a hint of regret in her voice—and moved forward once more. Simmons and his guard, Dutch, followed right on her heels, teasing her with the memories of a past life together. Mearing’s assistant and some guards followed, too, and further behind them was Sam, whom couldn’t bring himself to find even a small bit of humor or surprise in their conversation. Instead, his eyes trailed to the cargo up ahead, where he spotted two little Cybertronians—Brains and Wheelie—settled into cages. He didn’t recall them being taken, but they must have been when the police had met him at his apartment. While they had been a pain the entire time of their stay, he felt his chest twist at the sight of them imprisoned like they were some wild animal.
"Sammy, listen to me. Don’t let them exile us!” Wheelie pleaded when he spotted the young man. “It’s a Decepticon trap!”
Brains clamped onto the bars, “Don’t let them take us, Sam! It ain’t right!”
The young man could say nothing as they were taken away by some random worker; he couldn’t even bring himself to go after them. He couldn’t bring his legs to race over there and rip the cage away and bust them out. Even if he’d somehow managed to gain the resolve, he knew the watch wouldn’t let him, and the Decepticon on his wrist reminded him with a quick jolt through his arm yet again. It wasn’t as painful as the others, but it made its point, and he said nothing as their group continued on towards the exit where a group of white vehicles were waiting to drive them to the launch platform.
The Autobots appeared at that point, and their posse filed in behind them. Sam felt his stomach churn and his throat was suddenly dry at the sight of them—particularly the yellow one—and he could barely contain himself as they drove up and stopped just before the complex. The Autobots had already transformed, and most all of them were by the rocket. The only ones that remained nearby were Optimus and the Wreckers whom were working on the outside of the ship. Sam walked over slowly towards the Autobot commander, his eyes downcast, and wished more than anything he wasn’t there right now. Not only was having to say good-bye to some of the greatest friends he had come to know, he was going to have to betray them. It was agonizing.
He swallowed hard, “Optimus?”
The Autobot Commander didn’t answer at first; optics and processor elsewhere as he gazed at the horizon. When he did look down at Sam, though; it was with sorrow and regret.
“What your leaders say is true. This was all my fault. I told them whom to trust. I was so wrong,” the Autobot leader rumbled, optics subdued and sorrowful.
“That doesn’t make it your fault. It just makes you human for a change,” Sam replied, looking up at the leader at last.
"If there is anything you will remember, let it be this: you may lose your faith in us, but never in yourselves,” Optimus told him, blue optics meeting his brown irises. The young man’s eyes began to water, but any words were stifled as the watch zapped him again, urging him to do his duty. They wanted the information, but he couldn’t betray them. He couldn’t. But he had to.
Hating himself completely, he said, “I need to know how you’re gonna fight back. I know there is strategy, I know you’re coming back. You wouldn’t just leave. You wouldn’t leave Catherine. You’re going to come back for her and for us. Sideswipe and her kids wouldn’t leave her here. I mean, the Aerialbots are gone aren’t they? That was part of the plan, right? And you’re coming back, too—with reinforcement or—or something! I know there’s a plan! You can tell me, Optimus. No other human will ever know.”
Sam could say nothing about the Decepticon on his wrist, but he hoped—he prayed—that the Autobot leader had caught onto the stress in his tone. He was paying for it already; the Decepticon had sent yet another jolt. However, they hadn’t fully understood his intentions, so he looked into the red-and-blue mech’s optics pleadingly. He did not find what he wanted. In fact, he would find nothing; no hope; no reassurance; nothing.
“The Aerialbots left of their own accord. We do not know where they are, nor can we locate them. There are no reinforcements waiting. There is no plan, Sam.”
“But… if… if we just do what they want then how are we gonna live with ourselves? How can you just let us make you leave? How can you just leave Catherine to them?”
Optimus vented as he knelt down before him, “You and Catherine are my friends, Sam. We would do all we could to save you both… But your leaders have spoken. From here, the fight will be your own.”
The Autobot Commander turned away then, and Sam saw looked past him to find a yellow-armored figure emerging from beneath the launch pad. His heartbeat quickened and he felt his throat constrict. It was Bumblebee. His best friend. His wing man. His car. His ‘Bee. He could barely hold back the tears or the choked sob as the yellow scout approached him, optics downcast and door wings lower than he’d ever seen them go. How was it that he was leaving? It felt like it had been such a short time since he’d found him in that car lot so long ago. It was almost like it’d happened yesterday and now Bumblebee was leaving. It couldn’t be possible.
“We’re gonna do whatever we can—make it like it was,” the yellow Autobot’s radio chimed, and Sam felt his heart shatter more. Bumblebee reached a hand out tenderly and the young man latched onto it at once. He couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, although managed to retain himself enough to only let a few drop. A few sobs broke through as well, and the yellow Autobot whirred softly as he used his hand to lift the young man’s head so their optics and eyes met. “You will always be my friend, Sam. Always.”
Bumblebee began to pull away, but the young man refused to let go. The matching blue orbs dimmed as sorrow took hold, and it pained the Autobot to forcefully remove his metal digit from the young man. Sam did not reach for him again, nor did he follow after when the scout turned and walked back the way he had come. With another sob, the young man turned to the nearby railing, grasped hold of it, and crouched down in an effort to control himself. It wasn’t working well, and he didn’t bother to look up when he heard Simmon’s chair roll up next to him.
“Years from now, they’re gonna ask us: ‘Where were you when they took over the planet’?” the older man began. “And we’re gonna say: ‘We just stood by and watched’.”
Sam lifted his head, meeting the ex-agents gaze, and his tears settled. His eyes still stung, though, but he lifted himself up to look at the launch platform. The Autobots were all loading now, ascending the stairs and heading for their ship. They really were just going to sit by and watch, weren’t they? There was nothing they could do. They were just going to watch their only hope shoot off into space and let the Decepticons take over the world little by little. They were just helpless pawns, and he hated it all the more. He buried it away, though, as he and Simmons left the platform, the launch going to happen soon. All the way to the cars and all through the ride to the safety zone, Sam could not keep the burning question from his mind.
Where were you when they took over the planet?
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-O-
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Catherine looked up from the crouch she had taken up lounging on when she heard the feet of her “guards” suddenly shuffle in a way that couldn’t have been simply shifting position. She raised a brow as she spotted them turn around the corner, out of sight. She frowned, albeit out of curiosity, and pushed off the couch to see what had happened. She didn’t worry about any repercussions to her actions—her captors hadn’t shown any care when she had tinkered with the vehicles in the room—and so sauntered over to a take a peek around the corner. If she found nothing, she would make her way towards the front room where she knew the Russian man was still waiting.
To her surprise, she didn’t even make it to the door before a new goon appeared; one whom she did not recognize from before, and they had a hold on something—or rather, someone. It only took a quick glance to know who it was, and her protective instincts kicked in. The man wasn’t as big as the others, so she took a strong frontal approach by slamming her fist into his nose, which freed his captive from his hands. The man let out a cry of pain and shock, and then doubled over as she rammed her leg between his. Catherine quickly pulled the captive free and away from the man.
“Carly, are you okay? What are you doing here?!” the redhead shouted, looking the blonde-haired woman over. Thankfully, her friend looked unharmed besides frightened eyes and rustled hair. The young woman could only nod before another man appeared, shouting for his comrade.
Catherine took a fighting stance at once, and was only slightly surprised when the new opponent came after her. He must have not gotten the memo that she wasn’t supposed to be harmed, but that was fine by her; it gave her all the more reason to dodge his blow and sock him across the jaw. Unfortunately, the blow was just a grazing one and he returned the favor by punching her in the gut. She gasped for air, but dropped below the next strike. She managed to bite back the pain in her stomach to spin her legs into his, tripping him. There was another flash of movement in the doorway and she launched up to strike him, too, but found herself slapped away by something sharp and metallic. It drew a tiny bit of blood, but she felt more pain than anything. To make matters worse, she was caught by the second man, whom locked his arms tight around her.
“You know I expected a bit more etiquette from you, Ms. Wolf,” the third man hummed, and the redhead glared. It faltered some, though, when the metallic bird swooped from the door and landed beside the man, red optics searing into her.
“Yeah, well, when one of my own is being rough handled I get kind of pissed,” she spat back. The new man chuckled a little and gestured for the man behind her to release his hold. He obeyed and she feinted an elbow strike at him. She got a flinch and snorted defiantly before finding Carly and making sure she was close behind her and nowhere near the man and the Decepticon bird.
“Then don’t fret, Ms. Wolf. You and Carly are my honored guests. No harm will come to you, so, please, have a seat.”
Catherine scowled, “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t exactly feel comfortable enough.”
“Of course, of course. Where are my manners? My name is Dylan Gould. You might know me from the few major companies I own or as the head man you were looking for a few months ago in that Cybertech business. Does that jog your memory?” he grinned with amusement.
“You… What… that… You were behind that!? But… you couldn’t—we would have found you!”
Dylan’s smile widened, “Well, you see, that’s where Laserbeak and my other associate Soundwave come in. Oh, you know him? Then you must know they can do wonders when it comes to keeping people like me hidden from people like you. But let’s not fret over the past, shall we? We’ve got much to do and a new regime heading our way. Not to mention there’s a show I wouldn’t want you to miss.”
“’New regime’? You mean that new-world-order crap? Please. You’re an idiot if you think you’re going to rule it. The Decepticons won’t stand for it. Tell me how right I am, ‘Laserbeak’.”
“Quite the clever girl, aren’t you?” the bird cackled, Energon drool dribbling from his beak.
“True. We humans won’t be ruling, but let’s not put it that way. You should really look at this as a partnership,” the older man smiled, clasping his hands together as he walked by them towards the couches where he sat back into the nearest. “You have to stand on the side of progress if you wanna be a part of history. Now, please, sit down. We’ve only got a few minutes before the show begins and you’ll want to be comfortable to see it.”
Catherine kept her glare trained on the man, Carly still situated behind her. The smirk was fitted firmly on his mug, and the Decepticon bird was still slobbering like some starving, rabid beast. She knew there wasn’t much she could do now; if she tried to smack him as he deserved, the bird would take her down, and there was no running. She hated having to do what he wanted, but there wasn’t much help to do.
“Fine,” she spat and, with Carly between her and the man, she returned to the couch and settled there so that she was comfortable, but also ready to show him a thing or two with her fist. Having gotten his way, Dylan gestured at Laserbeak, whom squawked and launched himself to a nearby table. There, the bird-like Cybertronian shifted his chest to reveal a hologram emitter which projected a screen of some news feed that showed a scenery Catherine was familiar with. She narrowed her eyes, wondering why the hell the metal bird brain was showing her a shot of the NASA launching area. Not to mention the odd caption at the bottom—something about the Autobots being on board? But that wasn’t possible.
“I imagine you’re curious, being that you’ve been a little out of the loop this past day or so. Allow me to do the favor of filling you in,” the man hummed, folding his hands on his knees. “Your leaders have kindly done the Decepticons a favor and agreed to boot the Autobots off American soils—or, well, more so the planet. And right now your buddies are about to be launched into space. From there, Sentinel and the Decepticons will get down to business, but we have one little thing we need done before that. Sam, thankfully, completed his part.”
“Sam?!” the redhead shouted as she shot up, but settled back down when Laserbeak shrieked at her. “What did you do to Sam?!”
“Oh nothing much; just made him our spy to keep this lovely woman beside you safe. He found out quite a bit, too, but now it’s time for part two,” the man hummed, gesturing to the screen. Both women looked in time to see the rocket’s on the bottom of the shuttle burst to life, propelling it up into the sky. Catherine’s heart beat raced as she realized it was really happening. She hadn’t believed Dylan at first, but it was happening—the Autobots were being sent off the planet, but that couldn’t be true. They couldn’t leave. They had to save her, and the city, and everyone else. They had to stop Sentinel and the Decepticons. They couldn’t be leaving! Sideswipe couldn’t be leaving!
“I always get what I want, Sam. We just needed to be sure,” the man spoke suddenly, and Catherine found he was on a phone. Again, she stood up and took a few steps before a short round of Energon shots struck the ground at her feet. She sent a seething glare at the bird, but was pulled back by Carly who begged her to just stay sitting down.
Dylan’s eyes met Catherine’s for a moment and then he looked to the screen as he continued, “That they would go without a fight.”
The redhead’s eyes found the screen again, and time slowed as she watched the shuttle continue to rise, but from further in the sky multiple streamlines appeared. She knew at once they weren’t other planes—they were missiles and they were heading straight for the spacecraft. She thought she screamed, but no sound came out when the weapons struck their target and ripped it to shreds. Her body froze, and the ice pricked at her skin while her stomach dropped. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.
“We all work for the Decepticons now,” Dylan stated as he stood and walked off. Laserbeak shut off the projection and followed after the man, leaving Catherine and Carly alone. The blonde-haired woman watched her companion carefully, and reached for her. The redhead did not shy away, and so Carly wrapped her arms around the redhead’s shoulder. Catherine didn’t flinch or blink or anything. She was stock still even as the blonde tried to whisper some words of comfort no matter how fruitless or empty they were. Catherine heard none of it, though; her mind refused to accept it, and yet her heart knew and it shattered within her chest.
With a wrenching sob, she began to cry.
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