Crossover with The A-Team movie
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
Author's Note: I've never tried to write the four guys from The A-Team before, so I might have handled them out of character. Call if creative discrepancies ;)
Sam Witwicky sat in the shade of a tall skyscraper, wondering what the heck had ridden him to say 'yes' to this assignment. Well, it wasn't really an assignment. Not even a mission. He wasn't an agent or an officer of any kind of law enforcement, government department or shady organization. Officially Dr. Samuel James Witwicky was the lead researcher concerning Cybertronian-Earth Hybrid Tech. He didn't have personalized cards, he didn't have an office anywhere, he didn't even have an official employer. Sam's existence was… sketchy. He received money, he had a house, he lived and breathed and ate and slept, but he was completely off the grid.
Right now he wished that included air-conditioning.
The muggy heat surrounding him had New York in a death grip. For a week the heat wave had rendered normal life impossible. People groaned under the temperatures. Anyone in his right mind wouldn't be out and about.
What did that say about him?
Sam hoped his parents were having a great time at the air-conditioned shopping centers and shops all around the city.
It had been planned as a family get-together. With most of his past months spent in the Arctic, at the Project base, he had seen little of his family and it had felt like ages since his mother had talked his ear off about something or other, inquired into his life, asked about 'Bee' and winked at him.
She had actually winked!
Sam felt dark amusement wash over him through the link. It wasn't a connection to Bumblebee but to a much more sinister appearing mech. Barricade. Bumblebee and Jazz were currently up on the Ark because of a reconnaissance run planned for the next week. He wouldn't see his partner for a while and it was good training, he told himself. They weren't attached by the hip and separation should be natural. That he had jumped on the opportunity to go to New York on a reconnaissance of his own with none other than Barricade should have told him how well this separation was working.
Not well at all.
That his parents had accepted Sam's connection to an alien life form that looked like machine, was actually a transforming robot and acted as their son's car, had been a big surprise to Sam when it had happened. He had expected more of an outrage. Then again, he should have known. His parents had been confronted with a lot of weird and outrageous stuff, and they had taken it all in a stride. Sort of. They had accepted their son's technopathy and later the link to Bumblebee as if it meant a daughter-in-law of the likes of Mikaela.
::He could use a holoform:: Barricade commented, sounding deviously amused.
He groaned. ::No way::
For some reason it would creep him out. Ironhide used a holoform sometimes to interact with Lennox, but it was a special case. Sam understood why the weapons specialist had created the hardlight form and he knew Lennox appreciated it very much. But for him and Bee? No. Not really.
Barricade was parked a block away, in an official parking lot, sitting in the shade of a skyscraper. He had shed the police cruiser cover and become a black Mustang with non-descript plates – New York plates to blend in – and no flashy additions. He was actively scanning the area and through the link Sam noticed that he was tense. He expected something to happen, even if this was nothing but watching and waiting right now.
Sam emptied his water bottle and threw it into the trash, then fished a new one out of his backpack.
::What am I doing here?:: he sighed.
::Losing bodily fluids on a senseless take-out:: was the cool commentary in the back of his mind. ::I, on the other hand, have air-conditioning::
He groaned to himself at the thought of a nice, cool car interior. ::Don't tempt me!::
::But it's so much fun::
::Right now, you're not!::
Sam sent a glare and tried to concentrate on his objective again. He wasn't out here for fun. He was actually working, though far from his normal field of operations.
Then again, maybe not.
He was a doctor of several fields of expertise, all in the mechanical engineering department, but he was also a technopath. While he could function as a field operative, he preferred not to. He wasn't an agent and he didn't want to be one. His life was already complicated enough without the additional mental stress of undercover work.
::If you would unwind you could enjoy the change of routine:: Barricade told him, clearly listening in to his thoughts. ::Routine is deadly. You have potential, Prime, and it is wasted in labs::
::This here isn't my interpretation of having a good time!:: he snarled.
Because it was hot and the air was stale, without a single breeze disturbing the heaviness. He was sweating, he was hot, he was uncomfortable, and just the thought of cold water had him want to skinny dip in the next fountain.
As it was, he wouldn't. Not just because he would probably get written up for public whatever. He also had to keep an eye on the car lot next to the cute little hotel that was wedged between tall glass-and-steel buildings. It was one of those colonial buildings, narrow, three stories high, with a sand dusted front, granite-gray stone steps, a brass railing, and wooden shutters that had been freshly painted a deep burgundy red. It looked cozy and cute, but Sam wondered how anyone could survive in this neighborhood against the big chain hotels.
The parking lot was tiny, adjacent to the hotel, and belonged to the hotel owner. It had once been paved, but the cracks in the tarmac told of the age. Four cars were currently in residence. One looked derelict and unable to go anywhere. Two others were probably guest cars. The fourth was their target. It was an old, beat-up '83 Toyota Camry with flaking paint and rusty patches. It was parked next to the wall of the hotel, almost huddling in a corner as it seemed, and even from here, across the street, Sam could see that the tires were almost as old as the car. They were cracking in places. Dust had collected on the roof and hood, and there were bird droppings on the metal skin. It was in a sorry state.
Someone ambled up to him and Sam took a quick swallow of water. He tried not to glare and bit back on the first words that came to mind as sharp brown eyes on a narrow face pinned him down.
"Well, kid, anything?" Seymore Simmons asked without the niceties of a greeting.
The meet and greet had been hours before and Sam had tried to make it a short one. Simmons hadn't mellowed with age. If anything, the annoyance factor had risen and the former Sector Seven agent was even more paranoid and suspicious of everything than ever before. He no longer had an agent status with any of the Autobot-affiliated organizations, but for some reason he was still around. A freelancer, he called himself.
"No," Sam answered briskly.
Simmons narrowed his eyes at the subject under suspicion, then glanced at Sam once more.
"Sure? Your brain's not funny and garbled?"
"No."
The older man huffed. "I know he's there. I've been tailing the sonofabitch for months!"
Sam knew all about it. Simmons shad made it his life's work to track down rogue signals from possible mechs hiding on this planet, be in Asia, Africa, the Americas or Europe. It had been in Europe that he had recruited some kid called Leo to do his legwork and the guy was as hyper about alien life on Earth as Simmons was. Sam had never met Leo, but he had seen the excited face of a fresh-out-of college kid. Dark-eyed, curly black hair, olive skin, Leo had been reporting to Simmons about what he had picked up in Europe, which had been next to nothing spectacular, but he would be back home in the States this month. Simmons' new recruit was so full of energy, Sam wondered if he had to be tranquilized to sleep.
Because of his multiple contacts all over the place, like here in New York, Simmons had found the hotel a likely hiding spot for a mech life form. Sam wouldn't have been involved – this was more up Epps' alley and into his field of work – but before Epps sent in the troops, the place had to be staked out and observed, to make sure they weren't storming into a perfectly nice hotel and scaring the guests.
"Well, let's take a closer look then," Sam decided.
He walked back a block and picked up his backpack for his cover. He was a tourist, which was mostly true, and would spend a few nights in the small hotel. Barricade said nothing as he closed the trunk and walked back again, hoisting his luggage.
Simmons was nowhere to be seen when he turned around the corner and Sam simply walked up the stairs and pushed open the doors.
x x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x x
He had been in the room for an hour now, sitting on his bed, eyes closed, scanning closely and slowly, but aside from the expected electronics there was nothing, nothing at all, that roused the technopathic mind. Sam wondered if this wasn't a wild goose-chase, initiated by the paranoid mind of Seymore Simmons.
::Barricade?:: he asked the ever-watchful presence that was his anchor.
::Nothing:: came the low rumble.
Barricade had been scanning outside, looking for any kind of signal that could speak of a Cybertronian life-form. So far no luck.
Sam sighed and slid off the bed. He grabbed his camera and left the room, deciding to play tourist. At least in this hotel. His cover was art and history student from Mission City, so that was something that would explain his interest in the old building. With a notebook, a pen and the camera he started to explore the building, senses wide open.
x x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x x
An hour later he returned to the room and flopped down on the bed, frustrated. He had been up and down the hotel, had walked around the block, more or less, and prowled around the parking lot where the old cars were.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
He had even widened his circle, just in case the hotel wasn't the center of activities, but there had been no blip. Aside from the human technology, that is.
Sam had ended up in a coffee shop two corners away from the hotel, with a tall, strong, black coffee, thinking and scanning. The scanning had given him a headache and he had topped off his second large cup with a cinnamon roll and two donuts. The barrista had given him an indulgent smile and a flirty commentary about the need of growing young man. Sam had been too tired to reply something witty. He had paid and returned to his table, wolfing down the sugary sweets.
::Well?:: Barricade asked when the technopath returned.
::Nothing:: Sam replied. ::I'll have another look around tonight. If there's nothing by tomorrow afternoon, I'm leaving::
::Already giving up?::
Sam grimaced. ::Y'know, this is me being helpful. I'm on vacation and I'm spending it surveilling::
Barricade chuckled. ::All you had to say was no.::
Sam sent him a dark look and it got him another chuckle. The idea that another Sector Seven experiment had been discovered had been too tempting. He wanted to help the mech in question, if it really existed, because like all its brothers it had been created by what Sam called crazy, out of control scientists. People without a conscience who didn't see mechanoid life as life; who had viewed everything as an object.
He shuddered a little at the memories, seeing Bumblebee strapped down and tortured, recalling WiFi, who had been born and killed within an hour. WiFi had survived the death blow, but only because he had been strong and resilient. Others had turned crazy or had perished.
Drawing himself out of the dark memories, Sam decided to spend some time with his parents, get dinner with them, then return for another round. He left the hotel, nodding at the receptionist with a smile, and walked down the block to where Barricade was parked. It was still too warm and the heat clung to him like a blanket. The forecast was for rain and for New York that could mean torrential.
His parents had been all over New York with a guided bus tour and his mother was overflowing with enthusiasm and touristy facts.
"Julie, let the boy breathe," his father only said, which earned him a glare.
It didn't stop Julie Witwicky from telling Sam all about what they had seen either. Sam just grinned and listened, glad to be normal for a few hours.
"What are you two doing tonight?" he wanted to know over dessert.
"Your father has tickets to a Broadway show," his mother told him proudly.
"Well, have fun, you two."
"You're working?" Ron asked.
Sam shrugged, scraping ice cream out of the depths of his cup. "Kinda."
Ron frowned briefly, then accepted the brisk comment.
"You should get some sleep, honey. You're on vacation!" his mother declared.
"I will. When this is over."
She wasn't happy and told him so in a lot of words. Sam just nodded, sighing a little to himself.
When it was just him and Barricade once more, Sam let himself once again think about the lack of evidence of a mech life form when Simmons insisted there was one. Simmons was former Sector Seven and despite the over-the-top performance sometimes, he was a good agent. Annoying as hell, but a professional. And he hadn't lost his edge.
::Maybe it left:: Barricade entered his thoughts.
::Maybe:: Sam conceded. ::But why?::
He got no answer and he hadn't expected one.
x x x x x x x
When they returned to the hotel, Barricade dropped him off a block away once more, so not to blow his cover, and Sam walked the last part. He passed the dark parking lot and suddenly something touched his senses. It was a tiny whisper, like something hiding underneath a mountain of blankets and just peeking out, but it was enough to alert him to a presence.
Around the corner, Barricade stopped and pulled against the curb, a prowling black presence, ready to intervene should something happen.
Sam approached the almost dark lot. He could make out a dark shape, a van, parked near the rear entrance of the hotel. It hadn't been there when he had left for dinner. The lone bulb that shed some light didn't help a lot. He approached the vehicle, curious but careful, senses carefully reaching for what he had felt.
The presence retreated, but it wasn't fleeing. It was simply as careful as Sam was.
::Hey:: he sent.
It got him no reaction. He was being watched, nothing more.
Before Sam could probe any further the back door to the hotel opened and light spilled out into the derelict lot. He ducked behind the near-by Camry as a large shadow blocked the light and voices drifted over. He couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like squabbling. One was dark and angry sounding, the other talked incessantly and fast. The two shapes moved toward the van, opened the back doors, got something out and went back inside. It looked like bags. Probably staying over night.
The presence Sam had felt had peeked a little at their approach, then gone into hiding once more. Like a brief spill of happiness, he thought. And then dormancy.
Huh.
Staying behind the Camry a little longer he tried to get a glimpse once more, but the mech mind was in its shell and he had no idea how to approach it without startling it.
::Are you sure it's the van?:: Barricade asked and Sam thought he could make out the black shape of the Mustang across the street.
::Mostly::
::Call in the cavalry?::
::No. We're gonna watch. There are people with it, at least two, and I want to know if they know::
Barricade was silent, but he agreed. It would be easier if the suspected mech left the populated areas, too. Maybe the two men would leave tomorrow.
tbc...