Callie is a master at cracking codes. But there is one specific file that has her frustrated; something about a 'Mission City' and something that happened within. When she stumbles upon the biggest secret of her life, will she be able to keep her sanity under the pressure and save a newly acquired friend?

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers; If I did, Jazz would still be alive.

What the hell is with this guy?! I shouted at myself inwardly, puffing heavily as I strained my muscles to turn the pedals faster.

My day had started out normally, with me taking a ride around the town on my old mountain bike, stopping at the bagel shop to pick up a breakfast special – a cinnamon and sugar bagel with cream cheese, peanut butter, honey and banana slices. It doesn't sound very good, but it is delicious.

So I sit down at one of the tables and enjoy my meal in relative silence before heading out again, gliding along casually on my black bike, when I start getting tailed by this cop.

You see, I'm not exactly what one would call a law abiding citizen – what I mean to say is, I'm a hacker. I crack classified files on a daily basis. The newest one I had stumbled upon was something about a 'Mission City' and something that had happened within; I was still unscrambling the code and hadn't made much progress as of yet. It was proving exceedingly difficult and I wasn't familiar with the encryption style. It was almost… alien.

Anyways, seeing this state cop following me in a rather unsubtle manner set off multiple screaming alarms in my head. They couldn't have tracked me through my computer, could they? No, I would have known. Right? And if they had, wouldn't they, like, send the FBI after me or something?

I watch too much television¸ I told myself dryly, peering over my shoulder to see if the cop was still there.

Bad timing, because I didn't notice when a big black truck pulled out in front of me. Needless to say, I smashed head first into the nice shiny paint job near the grill and was thrown off of my bike. I don't think I did any damage to the truck, sadly, but I could feel a bruise forming on my right cheek bone and on my backside.

As I groaned pitifully on the asphalt, I saw the strangest sight – the cop car seemed to recognize the black truck and revved it's engine, almost angrily or spitefully, and fled.

"What?" I ventured aloud, sitting up painfully.

"Are you all right?" asked a gruff voice as the driver of the truck stepped down from the running boards next to my ear. I glanced up at him, wincing as my neck stung slightly. He looked to be around 35-40 and had short salt-and-pepper hair. His muscular build was a little daunting from my position on the ground, but the thing that caught my attention the most was his eyes – they were black. Not dark brown, but pure black.

"I'll live," I groaned, biting back a curse as I stood from the ground.

"Are you sure you would not like me to contact the medical response team to further asses your injuries?"

"No, thanks." I blinked at the black eyed stranger.

What a strange man, I thought as I bent to retrieve my bicycle. I heard the roar of an engine and my head snapped up to see the truck beating a hasty retreat. Without a 'sorry', or even a 'goodbye'.

Grumbling quietly to myself about the audacity of people and crazy policemen, I mounted my bike once again and made my way quickly to the apartment complex I lived in, every once in a while casting a wary glance over my shoulder in case that cop should get it in his head to follow me to my home.

Once there (and not once spotting that peculiar policeman), I hefted the light aluminum frame over my shoulder and carried my bike up the stairs to my door, pausing only momentarily to insert my key into the lock before abandoning it in a careless heap near my bean bag couch.

Traipsing over to my computer, I collapsed with a sigh into my rolling chair before flipping the power switch on the monitor. The screen blinked insistently, waiting for me to input my code. Resting my left elbow on the desk and dropping chin onto palm, I lazily picked out the keys with the pointer finger of my right hand.

The screen flashed again, telling me I had input the wrong code. Growling in the back of my throat, I lifted my head and used both hands to type in the correct password. After the stubborn little machine finally granted me access, I pulled up the heavily coded file I had been previously trying to crack and began my efforts anew.

I have no idea how long I was working on that file, but I had only succeeded in decoding one sentence before there was a sharp rap on my door. Startled, I knocked over a glass of water that had been sitting next to the keyboard (that missed all of the important electronics, thankfully) and winced as it shattered on the wood floor. I cast a glance at the clock – it read 2:23 a.m. Damn, how long had I been working?

"Shenanigans," I hissed, throwing a nearby towel over on top of the mess and flipping the switch on my computer before running over to answer the door.

"Callistus Acheson?" questioned the man as soon as I opened the door. I gave him a wary look.

"Yeah…?"

"I need you to come with us," he snapped, motioning to one of his followers that then came forward and proceeded to twist my hands behind my back.

"Hey, wait, on whose authority?" I demanded, struggling against the metallic cuffs that restricted the blood flow to my hands.

"Secretary of Defense John Keller," the man replied unabashedly, leading the way as I was thrown carelessly into a black SUV.

Oh, shit, was all I could think as the vehicle pulled away from the sidewalk and a handful of curious onlookers.