FBI
Author: Zarak342
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, I just entertain myself and the readers with the characters.
Characters: Mostly everyone – focus on Bumblebee, Jazz and Cliffjumper.
A/N: I know I should probably work on Blood Brothers, but the plot bunny was vicious. It made me shed blood. Anyways, I realize that making the Transformers human probably kills the whole concept of 'TRANSFORMERS' but you know what, I don't really care, because I absolutely adore AU (Alternative Universe) stories. This is one of them, they're humans and the concept of robots from other space does not exist in this story (yet!).
A/N2: I get all my FBI info from Wikipedia and other sites, so sorry if anything is wrong. Don't know much about them.
Status: unfinished, not planned, mostly just sprouting directly from my head. No Beta (If you want to, please note me!)
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Chapter one: The Bee
His best friend from the academy had once told him to take a deep breath, relax, and fix the tie before ever walking into the respective leader's office. It was probably some of the best advice in the world, though he could barely force his limbs to walk again after he had fixed the tie and made sure his black suit sat flawless. He smothered a hand through his blond hair before taking another deep breath.
Well, here goes nothing…
And then he opened the clear, glass door, stepping inside calmly to the room he had studied from a distance, since the Assistant Director in Charge's office had glass walls. It was simple in its complexity, a desk by the windows covered by blinds. The desk had the most essential office stuff, like a phone, pencils, papers, a computer crammed to one end but probably never used because the keyboard was covered by rapports. Cabins, assumingly also with reports and information in paper form, filled the corners. And then there was the director in charge of the New York field office…
The elder man with almost dark blue, black hair sat by his desk and was reading files, of unknown source. Deeply engrossed in these he didn't hear the guest coming in. It was only when the younger cleared his throat that he looked up.
"Ah," the Assistant Director said as he saw the younger. A quick glance in what could presumably be a calendar, he smiled to the younger. "Robert Bee, I presume?"
The young man, Robert Bee, nodded. His name was a several generations long joke, he thought. Who had ever gotten the idea of taking the surname Bee? It was cruel, evil and everything else. Oh sure, when you're grown up it is a funny name, but as a kid it was enough reason to be the receiving end of years of bullying. The name Bee was no fun when young, and Robert still didn't like it even with his twenty-four years.
"Well, Agent Bee," the Director said as he stood up from the desk and walked to the younger. Robert had to keep himself from wincing. Agent Bee… ouch. "I'm Assistant Director Orian Myers, as I presume you already know." Myers cocked an eyebrow in question. Robert nodded again. Yes, he had done his homework, checked the names of the main personal. It was also there he found out that he was not the only one with a peculiar name. There was a man in the Office of Public Affairs, for example, named Joe Bazz.
"Welcome to the FBI."
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So there he was. At first he had thought he just wanted to be a police officer, but for some reason it didn't seem as enough, not when he could be a Federal Bureau of Investigation agent. And with a four-year degree in hand, an excellent physical condition, and with what was deemed as an amazing memory, he had gotten in pretty fast. New York was a messy town; one Robert Bee always thought needed a good cleaning. The Police Department was one of the places to go, but now Robert stood in the FBI, in front of a white – slightly tanned – man he would never had guessed an agent. Not with such spiky, ruffled, black hair, with sunglasses and a casual white-toothed grin, and the tie was even a little loose.
This couldn't be his superior, one of the men who would become his companion until he got his own FBI partner.
"This is Joe Bazz," Director Myers said with a small smile. Robert guessed he hadn't really hid the widening of his blue eyes as well as he wanted to. "He will be your supervisor, together with Chris Johns."
When Robert looked around for the redhead whose file he had read – Chris Johns, twenty-six, Office of Public Affairs, and Bazz' partner – he just received a chuckled from Joe.
"Nah, man, Jumper's off," he said with a shrug, "Got a call not long ago, he's investigating."
"Jumper?" Robert queried with a furrowed brow. The surname was Johns, wasn't it? He couldn't have gotten that wrong, he was sure. The director had just said Johns too. Joe grinned again.
"Nickname of his," the agent said cheerfully. "You see, he has a hobby of jumping around on buildings. Calls it a sport, uh, what was it again…"
"Parkour," Robert helped. He had read about it, heard it should be a very demanding sport of sorts. He was honestly impressed if Chris Johns did that as a free-time hobby.
"Right. So, should we take a tour around before joinin' Johns, hm?" Bazz calmly took his black sunglasses off to reveal hazel eyes. The agent smiled to Myers, "If ya don't mind, Orian?"
The Director smiled gently as he nodded and stepped back to his office. Joe then patted Robert's shoulder as he started walking. Bee stared a little at his laid-back superior's back before following. That was the most peculiar superior he had ever seen.
"So, how old were ya again?" Joe started the conversation as they walked amongst desks and people in a well light, large building. "Cuz, ya know, I'll have to know if I gonna tease you or Chris for being the youngest."
"I'm twenty-four," Robert said, offering a small smile. So, he would be teased. Well, as long as it wasn't because of his name.
"Ah, whole two years younger," Joe huffed a laugh. "What made ya qualified to join at such an age?"
"My file says strong runner, good aim and photographic memory," Robert answered as the pair kept down the hallway of desks. God, the building was huge!
Joe suddenly stopped and Robert nearly bumped into the older one. "Photographic memory? Really?"
Bee's brows knitted a little. "Or so people like to call it."
"Neat," was all the response he got as Bazz started down the row of desks and people, just to stop abruptly again and exclaim; "Mike! Hey, over here, dude!"
Robert looked up to see – good Lord, was that blue!? – short hair attached to a white man, around the thirties, sharp featured face with almost black eyes. He wore a dark blue suit. Bee recognized the man from a file he had read. "Mike Allard, right?" he asked the man, trying to sound polite and not so curious when the new man walked closer. Mike stopped in front of the pair.
"Allard," he corrected with a hint of annoyance and supposed superiority. "It's French."
Robert tried to hide his frown. He had barely met the man, but he really didn't like the attitude. He recalled that the file said he was half-French – if you listened closely you could maybe hear a tinge of an accent – and had been raised in the higher class but that was no reason to act superior in any way. "Sorry. Mike Allard, then." Oh, he really tried not to sound sarcastic.
Allard just sneered before deciding to ignore the newcomer and turn his attention to Bazz. "So is this you and Johns' new pet? Heard we got a new in Public Affairs."
Robert spluttered slightly in respond. Pet? Why that damn…
"Robert is our new friend, Mikey," Joe cut in coldly, but still smiling. Then the seriousness shifted, apparently much to Allard's disdain judging by his grimace. "So," Bazz started, "how's Hank doin'?"
The close-to-blue-haired man sighed shortly with a frown, "O'Neill is better. The hospital released him this morning to return home and rest. Now, if you don't mind," Allard straightened almost stiffly, "I've got information to sort." With that he turned around on his heel and walked away.
The two stood in short silence before Robert spoke, "Who is Hank O'Neill?"
Bazz grinned, "Hank's a police officer in NYPD and a good friend of Mike's." He then gave a mock exasperated shrug, "Never understood how they became friends. Hank's a bit redneck, ya see."
"And O'Neill was in the hospital?"
"Yeah, got himself in a bit o' a struggle with the Soldati brothers." Joe gave a wry smile, "They had decided that iron would be a nice color in him."
Bee grimaced. Well, it was a dangerous job they had and they all knew that. "What is Allard's field of expertise?" He knew that, he had read it in the Allard's file, but he asked for the sake of conversation.
"Criminal Investigative Division and an Intelligence Analyst," Joe said as they kept walking. "One helluva interrogator too."
Robert ran a hand through his blond hair, not quite sure what to think of the CID agent. His first impression had been that Allard was a nose-in-the-sky guy, but apparently he could get down-to-the-ground friends, so Bee wasn't sure. He decided he would just have to wait and see if he would get to learn the analyst even if they worked in quite different divisions.
"Mike's okay," Bazz suddenly said as if he had read Robert's mind. "He's not a very social person, but he dang good at wha' he does."
Robert just nodded, a bit lost in his own thoughts as he studied the faces they passed, each and every one of them getting stored in that photographic memory of his. It was only when they walked down a hallway to the side that he guessed where they were going.
"Let's check who's in the mess hall," Joe grinned, confirming Robert's thoughts, and pushing open a pair of double doors he revealed a larger, quite open and well lit room, a canteen against one wall and the rest of the space occupied by tables. Several people sat around, talking, chatting and of course, eating. Joe swept his hazel eyes around and apparently spotting someone to meet, he moved to a table.
By the table sat three men. One was dark-skinned with dark brown eyes, around the early-thirties, the short, brown dreadlocks partially covered by an overly bright orange cap and clad in black pants, white shirt and a dark orange, loose jacket. He didn't look anything like and FBI agent, since he then would have worn a suit or just something not so insane colored. The second man was white, the dirty brown hair almost getting into blue eyes, around his late-thirties and wearing black pants and a white shirt that could use a cleaning. The third white male was a short-haired redhead, with almost icy blue eyes and was the only one actually wearing a prober, brown, suit. Bee only recognized the redhead.
"Hey guys," Joe grinned as he pushed a fifth chair up to the table, leaving the fourth open for Robert to sit beside the brown haired. "Let me jus' introduce ya."
"This," Bazz started, pointing at the dark-skinned, orange capped man, "is Blake Tennison. He's in the Cyber Division. A genius in cyberwarfare."
Blake flashed a white-toothed grin to Robert and nodded silently to the younger one. The young one nodded back, still wondering how such clothes were approved, though he guessed it was because Blake wasn't a field guy, and often the FBI had to compromise to get the geniuses to work for them.
"This is Wally Jackson," Joe continued and waved a hand at the brown haired who sat next to Robert. "Operational Technology Division."
Jackson smiled and stuck out a hand for Robert to shake. Jackson seemed friendly and cheerful and it was actually pretty obvious to Bee that the brown haired man worked with tech, probably machinery, judging by the grime that was smeared in the hair.
"And lastly, Redmond Alexander, head of the Security Division."
Alexander didn't smile, but he nodded politely to Bee before continuing eating the meatloaf looking thing. Robert was amazed by the ice blue eyes, they seemed to bore into you and read your innermost with just a glance.
"Guys, this is Robert Bee, new in Public Affairs." Joe smiled in Robert's direction, and the three greeted again. Jackson smiled widely, the smile reaching the blue eyes.
"Bee? That's an interesting name." Wally sounded truly intrigued, but Robert just scowled at the brown-haired.
"I am well aware of that, thank you very much…" he grumbled sarcastically. Jackson's eyes widened a little and he then smiled sheepishly in apology.
"No offence meant, kid," the older man said. "It's just a fascinating name… You're not the only one with special name here, you know."
Bee sighed shortly. Great, excellent first impression, Robert, he thought. Get nasty with your superiors, good move. He mentally chided himself into next week before answering; "I know," and he really did, "it's just… lots of teasing because of that name."
Blake chuckled, "No one gonna tease ya here, man," he said, "'Specially not when Joe's yar supervisor. He's dangerous."
To that, Joe only grinned widely, not giving off one ounce of 'dangerous' aura. Robert doubted that the man really could be dangerous. Oh sure, dangerous to criminals but to anyone else, nah, probably not.
Blake leaned over the table to get closer to Robert, "Dangerous, I tell ya," he whispered like it was confidential for only the two of them, not considering that the rest of the table could clearly hear him. Wally laughed shortly and Joe's grin widened. Redmond didn't really react but just maybe Robert could see a smile tug the corners of his mouth. There was apparently a joke he didn't get there…
Silence suddenly fell when Bazz' mobile phone rang. In all seriousness he took the small black phone from his pocket and studied the display. The others relaxed a little when he mouthed the words; 'Chris'.
"Heya, Bazz here. How's the investigation goin'? Really? Yeah, yeah, I've met him…" Joe smiled shortly to Robert as he continued the talk with Johns. Robert listened curiously to the one-sided conversation and watched from the corner of his eyes how Blake nudged Wally and said something that made them both chuckle. "He's fine… yeah, younger…" Joe chuckled quietly, "Of course not… huh, triple? That's some time ago we've seen that… No no, I think he already left… Sure I'm sure, I saw him leave… Uh, that's possible… Give the man some free-time, Chris… Serious? How so? … Weird?" Joe frowned, and Redmond frowned too hearing the agent questions. "Collins's ther—? … Can't find it? But you said… Just confirmed otherwise, sure… Fine, fine, we'll be there… Of course he's coming too… Yeah… Sure… Let it go, Chris! … See ya." Joe sighed as he ended the conversation and pushed the phone back into his pocket.
"Looks like yar goin' to the field," Blake grinned to Robert and, sure, Joe stood and motioned for Bee to follow him.
"Poker Friday?" Joe asked the three men with a grin. Wally and Blake both nodded, and though Redmond didn't seem to notice, Robert was pretty sure the redhead would be dragged along anyways. Joe waved a short goodbye before he walked away, quickly followed by Robert.
"Chris's called," Joe started, like Robert hadn't noticed, as they left the mess hall. "We got some deep investigation ta do. Triple homicide and a possibly suicide."
"Possibly?" he questioned with furrowed brow. By Joe's tone there was some doubt and confusion about that.
"Yeah, possibly. Peter's not sure, but he'll brief us properly once there." He moved through double doors to a parking lot outside of the FBI main building. "If we're lucky, we'll bump into Radovan on the way."
Bazz opened and sat at the driver's wheel in his white Porsche and Robert let himself in on the other front seat. The supervisor turned on the radio and the music blasted out at an almost ear-deafening level. Then he started the engine and they drove off.
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A/N: Hello. I'll give ya an CyberCookie if ya guess who every human are – not including the Soldati brothers, Peter, and Radovan, because we haven't gotten they whole names. If you do guess them all, you'll get two imaginary cookies =D
I'll continue this if people receive it well and wants more. Please do leave a review! I feed on them...