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Authors' note: We own nothing but the twisted minds that came up with the plot. However, we do own copies of the cartoon and 2007 movie as well as a second-generation Bumblebee figure.
Title: Wired
Authors: Tsumi, Muzai, Yuuzai, (First draft by Tsumi, Second draft by Muzai Beta'd by Yuuzai)
Rated: PG-13 for language, partial nudity and violence
Warnings: slash, violence, and other things people are not always comfortable with.
Pairings: pending , SamxBee, RatchetxIronhide, ProwlxJazz
"normal speech"
"Music"
(Sign language)
'Foreign language'
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Explosions rocked through the base while thick smoke poured through fractured walls and the klaxons wailed above the sound of screams. Seven armored figures galloped through the corridor, dispatching everything in their path with a hail of gunfire. Men fell like cards before the onslaught, their blood splattering the pale walls while the ceaseless staccato of bullets added to the cacophony of the night. A single man, the commander of the fugitives laughed as he cut a swath through the advancing soldiers.
They were foolish insects. Did they really think they stood a chance against him?
He was unstoppable, indestructible; no one could defeat him.
He grinned relishing the power his new body afforded him. The soldiers against him fell under his careless ferocity. He was so busy being pleased by the validation of his own superiority; he didn't see the newest enemy. Malcolm was rudely jarred from his rampage by a sudden pain flaring around his shoulder. The flesh along his shoulder burned crackling with energy, blood already leaking from the injury. The wound was minor but the pain served as an insult that merely enraged him.
Who dared to attack a god?
Snarling he whirled to the source of his injury, the soon to-be-victim of his wrath.
"Orion." He growled cracking his knuckles.
The man in question stood determinedly blocking their escape route; his blue eyes ablaze behind his face guard.
"Stop this Malcolm." he demanded, weapon raised high.
The commander laughed again, scorning his old friend and his decidedly pitiful intentions.
Poor Orion, the simpleton, he couldn't even see what was in front of him, couldn't imagine the predicament he now faced.
"You are a fool Orion." Malcolm spat, "Be their guinea pig if you so desire, but I will be master my own destiny."
They had not asked for this, had not asked to be transformed.
The commander's features stretched into a sneer as he lunged for Orion. There was no use in trying to convince the noble old fool and somewhere deep down Malcolm relished the thought of fighting him, Orion was the only one who could ever provide him with a challenge. His hands augmented with the cybernetic tech sliced cleanly through Orion's chest, rendering his uniform and torso to ribbons. Malcolm glanced at his fingers, coated in blood. The slick warmth felt spectacular on his inhuman digits. Orion staggered back surprised, pressing a shaky hand to the wound. He stared back at Malcolm as if he did not believe his former comrade of such an act.
Malcolm smeared the proof of his betrayal across his cheek, the coppery scent assailing his nostrils and barely fended off the first attack, Malcolm pressed on driving his opponent back against the bloody wall.
The remaining men raced for the nearest egress, abandoning their leader to his quarrel. He had been the cornerstone of their plan, but even he wasn't irreplaceable. Escape was close, so close; no more would they be forced to take part in a government funded travesty.
Heavy military boots echoed on the floor as three men, rounded the corner chasing after the fugitives in question. The largest of the trio howled after them, ordered them to stop as his great tattooed arms began to rearrange themselves; twisting and folding into massive double cannons. His first barrage struck only one of the retreating figures, the smallest, who hardly screamed as he collapsed to the floor blood spreading over his back. His associates abandoned him to his fate, their comradeship lasting only as long as he was useful. They pitied him sure, but there was no urge to go back for him. They'd all known the risks. Even if he couldn't survive on his own they were in no rush to share his fate.
Somewhere close the raging fire engulfed a support beam and the wall shattered from the stress, the team pulled up short coughing and shielding their eyes as dust and smoke shrouded them in a haze.
"Damn it! Jazz where are they?" The large man demanded waving wildly at the smoke.
"I don't know! It's not like I can see through all of this." The shortest of the three retorted dogging his heels.
"Keep trying." Ordered the third member of their team lowering his weapon, "We cannot let them escape."
They advanced further through the choking smog, until another explosion nearly rattled them from their feet. Malcolm strode forward at once, sneering as slipped by, his last words however were more order than taunt.
"Take care of him." he growled before turning to follow the path of his collection of deserters.
He retrieved the smallest along the way, cradling the broken figure against his shoulder as he marched out of sight.
They let him go, turning back through the haze, more concerned with the state of their Commander. It seemed to take forever, picking through the rubble, but they found the man in question trapped under a fallen piece of wall. His breathing had gone shallow, so they worked quickly, Ironhide barking orders as he hauled on the warped metal pinning Orion. Prowl was at his side in an instant straining to raise the hunk scorched plating as Jazz knelt, wrapping his arms around their leader.
As the weight disappeared, he hauled his commanding officer out of harm's way cradling him gently. "We got ya." he whispered, balancing the man in his lap. He coughed raggedly, slumping back against Jazz unable to support himself. Blood blossomed from his shirt where his hand was pressed to his chest with his wristed twisted oddly, it was a wonder he was even conscious.
"What of the others?" Orion gasped, wincing with pain.
"They got away sir, seven in all, causing severe damage to the base." Prowl reported.
"What about the kids?" Ironhide asked suddenly.
He, like the other the members of the team had realized they were a few men short.
"Bee probably doesn't even know there was a fight. That kid's probably still jacked like he always is." Jazz replied and the remark earned him a swat on the head.
"Ironhide, Jazz do a sweep, I want a tally of damaged and missing equipment. Prowl with me, we'll do a headcount and ascertain any injuries."
He pushed himself up, before slumping back against his second's shoulder.
"Whoa boss, you should be checking in with the Medbay. You were just flattened." Jazz replied.
Orion shifted once more, sparks dancing up from his lower leg, dust smeared over his body.
Prowl interrupted any reply he was about to make, looping an arm about his shoulders as he helped their chief to stand.
"I agree with him, Ratchet needs to see to your injuries first."
Orion didn't even bother looking at Ironhide, he was his oldest friend, but he'd doubtlessly agree with the others.
"Fine." he sighed, outvoted. When he didn't move as fast as they, Ironhide lifted him from his feet and carried him to the infirmary. He complained of the treatment, but was urged to silence by the trio. Ironic that he was the leader and was ordered around far more than he gave commands.
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Prowl strode along the deserted barracks hall, thankful there was less damage this deep in the base. Their fugitives had escaped from the detention centers, well most of them. Lining the stark hallways partially opened doors emitted smoke and whined unpleasantly. Technicians had yet to reach this site of devastation, but such damage that was minor compared to the extent of trauma at his destination. The door was shut tight with burn marks that ran along the edge and deep grooves neatly bisecting the lock. Cheery music drifted from behind it, much to his amusement.
He knocked twice and the door slid open at his touch. Slipping inside, the officer stepped over the entrails of a pilfered laptop and the shell of a modified scanner. Small pockets of floor peeked through the carpet of wires, monitors and keyboards. He shuffled in the direction of the bed, partially obscured by gutted speakers. Avoiding the occupied mattress, he instead dropped heavily on the footlocker at the end of it. It being the only piece of furniture Prowl recognized from their life before the project, as well as the only bare spot in the room. Nudging a haphazard pile of electronics with his foot earned him a blast of static from the direction of the desk.
Hunched over the equally blanketed desk was the youngest member of the program. The preoccupied teen was typing furiously, numbers and screens flashing before his eyes at breakneck speed. Covering the boy's ears were pair of headphones; music blaring from them loud enough to be heard through the walls. His hands pounded out encryption codes that had befuddled men twice his age.
Despite their differences the boy bore the marks of their shared heritage. His brown eyes were almond shaped but his cropped black hair, dyed yellow at the tips, created a strange contrast to his pale golden skin. Peering at his reflection in the computer screen Prowl frowned. He was much too pale and under his ill fitting clothes, remarkable thin. Tucked under his sleeves, wires ran from his wrists to the console to his left.
He didn't bother looking or removing the headphones. Despite the blaring noise, the teen could hear just about everything. He only ignored others if they didn't have anything worth listening to. The only ones spared of this characteristic rudeness were Orion and himself, and he hadn't addressed the hacker yet.
"Bee?" Prowl ventured, leaning across the space, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.
The man didn't jump though the music changed slightly upon contact.
"Come on in, I've got to tell you what a state I'm in, I've got to tell you in my loudest tones That I started looking for a warning sign."
"What happened here Bee?" He tried softly.
There was little difference from the normal state of the room, but not much compared to the clutter of wires and broken machinery everywhere.
"I am... struggling" The music changed suddenly, "Been one of those days..."
The tune was haunting, but the pale lips twisted into a smirk. The frown faded into a look of concern and Prowl patted the slim shoulder.
"As long as you're safe Bee, the command staff is in the infirmary, where you will go the instant you your condition changes. I've going to find the twins; they haven't reported in and are no doubt lying in a puddle of their own blood after trying to take one of those psychos on by themselves."
He'd never trusted the first men submitted for conversion, they'd far more loyal to Malcolm than anyone else. It had figured, using those few who'd been criminals before they'd transferred to Teletraan.
Squeezing the shoulder gently, he pulled away careful of the joint between arm and neck. Bumblebee's own conversion was still in the development stages, Ratchet had refused to integrate the cybernetics into his system until there was some major reconstructive work done on his throat. So far, none of their attempts had proved successful. So he used the computer to talk, key bits of music filtered through sound system to communicate. It was less of a hassle for those of the compound had yet to learn sign language. Pausing by the door, Prowl called back to the boy.
"Make sure you sleep tonight."
He received no answer as he shut the door behind him, but then he hadn't expected one.
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The twins were harder to find than expected. Lurking down a darkened corridor, they were limping towards the Infirmary. From the looks of things they had been in a fight, the youngest of the pair was supporting his brother as the moved through the hall. The moment they spotted their superior, they straightened as best they could, grinning widely.
"Hey Prowl, what's up?" Sunstreaker asked. Bullet holes spotted his leather jacket and his jeans were bloody along his right foot. His twin was in a similar state, shirtless with bruising along his ribs, blood down his side, in his free hand his gun was half crushed. Dust stood out in their strawberry blond hair, the elder's mane longer while his eyes were darker than his sibling's. Sideswipe rubbed his nose ruefully where even with the dust his freckles stood out.
"Should I even ask what happened to you Sunstreaker?"
"Well…we met Bonecrusher," The man explained, "Who was in a hurry and decided we were in the way just because Sideswipe decided to shoot him."
"You two just like to get in trouble." Prowl sighed.
The younger recruits were insane he was sure, it was the only explanation.
"Nope, it just kinda follows us like a puppy." Sideswipe grinned again.
"To the infirmary, both of you." he ordered stepping forward to support the limping twin.
"A dangerous puppy." Sunstreaker amended accepting the assistance.
The infirmary was full of personnel when they arrived, but that had been expected. Prowl was pleased to spot their illustrious leader in a bed, being fussed over by the chief medic, while others of their unit were taking their examinations with less complaint. Escorting the twins to empty bed in the observation area he left the pair together, if he even considered separating them; they'd act like it was the end of the world. Ratchet spotted him before he'd made it to Orion's side, and gestured to his usual bed. Prowl went, not bothering to make a caustic reply.
Ratchet's dark olive eyes were clouded with concern and more apparently anger as he forced the officer to lie still as he checked him for injuries.
"Where's the kid?" he practically growled.
"His room, he locked down the computer system after the break out." Prowl reported as the man touched along his ribs.
"We need to get him a keeper." Ratchet muttered, frowning as he smoothed fingers over rough skin.
"As well one for the boss." Prowl replied quietly, peering owlishly at their leader. By some stroke of luck, the medics had managed to sedate him. Orion seemed to sleep peacefully, his bandaged chest rising and falling slowly but steadily.
"Isn't that supposed to be you?" Ratchet countered following his gaze.
"Can't keep an eye on everyone." Prowl replied, wincing as the doctor found a bruise.
Ratchet snorted, but released him with a nod.
"You'll live," He appraised. "but next time bring Bumblebee with you; I'm getting worried about him."
There had been no casualties, but extensive injuries as the day came to a close. Huddled in his office Ratchet brooded over the files of the recently departed. Scowling faces sneered back at him from their mug shots, the kind of men he never should have converted into living weapons. They were supposed to be the next kind of soldier. Men, part machine, supposedly, they didn't question orders or mind dying. Not that he relished the thought of decades of research being applied for war. They were only prototypes of course and now seven of them were loose. The remaining unit would be forced to hunt them down and bring them back, to kill them if necessary. He had not wanted to test the program on such people, but he wasn't the on making the decisions. He had known for sure that something would go wrong. God, he hated being right.
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Despite his medic's orders Orion was in his office looking over the damage reports the next day. His chest ached as he worked, the pen shaking in his hand as he leafed through reports and personnel files. From time to time the light flickered above him, but he focused instead on the figures on the paper. Most of the damage was still being catalogued and he superior would arrive within the hour to inspect the state of their unit. Despite the extraordinary abilities of their Elites, there was no way they'd be back in functioning order when he'd want them to be.
Almost at once he could feel the man's steely gaze bearing down on him; he raised his head just in time to see Galloway slipping through the doors he hadn't even heard open. Orion moved stiffly to his feet and saluted crisply. His superior was shorter than he, although his overbearing personality more than made up for it. His dark, a deep auburn hair was rife with streaks of grey threatening to blot out the dominate color.
"Sir." Orion greeted, trying not to wince as his ribs complained of the movement.
"At ease."
He dropped the salute, clasping his hands behind his back as he awaited further orders.
"You wanted something sir?"
"Yes, I will want the damage reports as soon as possible, but in the meantime there are more candidates for evaluation."
He waved off the officer's look of horror and continued calmly. "We didn't want to bring them in to the project so soon. They're young, but after what's happened we have no choice. If they're compatible, we're taking them."
Unlike most people, the man was at ease around the converted The Elites were simply individuals who had already begun the cyber conversion; bearing the strength, abilities and stamina that was more machine than human. Those who were already part of the project had made their choice to be a part of it. They could not simply draft more people because they're mistakes had lost them most of their team.
"More subjects for the program?" Orion demanded, "Seven men just rampaged through the base to escape this project and now you want to convert more?" He could not believe this; it was too soon to be putting more people through this, especially if they were young.
"Look Orion, I know your misgivings about this but there's no alternative. We need the men."
"But sir-"
Galloway continued as if Orion had not spoken.
"One has arrived sans paperwork, Samuel James Witwicky, he is supposed to be good with computers and since we're already down a hacker..."
Dread crept through Orion's chest.
"You want me to pair him up with Bumblebee?"
"Exactly, many of your men, including Ratchet have expressed the notion that he needs a keeper."
The crushing dismay clawed further into Orion's heart and he tried again.
"Bumblebee's old partner, his friend defected with Malcolm, he may not be quite willing to cooperate, let alone trust this new recruit."
"I'm sure he'll come around."
"Yes sir."
He couldn't possibly believe that, he knew his men; he prided himself on that fact alone. He knew how to encourage and chastise his team, ensuring that they fit into a cohesive unit, until the schism. Malcolm's betrayal left scars on everyone, himself included. He knew Bumblebee would take the substitution hard and reject whoever tried to ease that ache.
Orion shifted and his chest flared in pain. Trying not to wince he turned again to the commander.
"The paperwork?"
"Put him with the kid, we'll work from there."
The official form was there in front of him with nothing more that the kid's name. Orion took it, eyes scanning the print warily. He didn't like it, but what choice did he have? He signed the conformation and handed it back.
From the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room, Sam looked up at the man who had dragged him from his office to sit in an uncomfortable chair in a waiting room
"Come with me." The man ordered without even looking at the teen.
"Yes sir." He replied quietly.
He still had no idea why he was here. His uncle had sent for him and he had yet to see him. Sam was led to a room in the barracks full of computer equipment. There was no sign anything but the large collection of junk that threatened to spill out into the hall.
"Stay here and don't touch anything. I'll be back in a moment." The man ordered. Sam nodded slowly, his dislike of the man evident on his face.
"Yes sir."
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The infirmary was only half repaired and the chief medical officer was still furious about the damage. The other medical staff granted him wide berth as they did their jobs quickly and more importantly quietly. Ratchet's day could have been better, but that seemed not to be the case as Prowl stormed in dragging Bumblebee who struggled shaking his head wildly.
"Ratchet, do something." He growled offering the boy for observation.
"Like what?" the medic asked, looking at the pair.
It was hard to see their resemblance aside from the obvious. The younger was pale and the blond tips to his hair were an odd addition in Ratchet's opinion, but they were blood and made no secret about it.
"I don't know set up an IV in his room? He hasn't eaten in two days."
The normally calm and collected tactician was more flustered than Ratchet had ever seen him, but with good reason. Any sort of trauma, left uncared for could cause unsavory consequences.
"Shouldn't you take him to the canteen instead?" He inquired brows raised. The aforementioned teen who'd practically fainted at the mention of an IV nodded enthusiastically that and his wild hand gestures made it very clear he agreed with the medic's suggestion.
"Slow down." He ordered the teen as an afterthought and slipped into lecture mode.
"Bumblebee, it is not good for a boy of your age to skip meals."
The teen drooped visibly and accepted the rebuke before he attempted to a break for the exit as Ratchet primed a syringe.
"If you actually made time for meals, rather than staying hooked to a computer all the time I wouldn't have to do this."
The only response was a pained whimper and Prowl patted the teen on the head.
"He'll be fine, but make sure he eats. And if you keep this up I'll seriously think about that IV idea."
Bumblebee scowled at the medic on the way out, falling in step with the elder officer as they moved off towards the Barracks. Turning the corner, they encountered the base commander and saluted.
"Ah Prowl, Bumblebee." the man nodded, putting them at ease before he turned to the young hacker.
"I've been meaning to speak with you Bumblebee in regards to your recent loss of a partner. In fact we have found possible recruit that may prove to be an apt substitution."
Pale fingers twisted into simple words, and his scowl deepened
(Don't need a babysitter)
"Not a baby-sitter, a partner." The man corrected condescendingly, best hacker or no, the officer in question was still a child.
Prowl interrupted him in clipped tones, pulling his sibling back.
"The man that was Bumblebee's partner along with a majority of the Elite force betrayed us quite recently; you can't expect him to welcome someone new so soon."
Nonplussed the man continued, peering down as the teen's hands clenched.
"He's been hand-picked to join your ranks and his skills which will complement yours perfectly."
And that it seemed, was that.
Not five minus later, the trio marched to Bumblebee's quarters to find the newest recruit. The boy in question looked at them perched upon the only clear spot in the room. Sitting on the footlocker he seemed sheepishly but that seemed to be more from uncertainty than actual guilt in any case. The shortest of the new men sneered at him, half hidden behind his companion, the commander stood just beyond them and slowly the teen rose to his feet.
They were shades of each other, he realized after a moment, taking in the similarities of their skin tone as well as their dark hair and brown eyes. Probably brothers he decided at once, offering a smile. The one who hadn't attempted to make himself invisible approached the boy offering a hand as he returned the smile.
"Welcome to the Elite Project. I am Prowl, Chief of Security."
Sam nodded taking the proffered hand with a firm shake. The officer gestured behind him to the young man with the oddly dyed hair.
"And this is Bumblebee."
With another smile Sam waved to him and was surprised to receive a rude gesture in return. Mr. Galloway interjected sharply, patting the man firmly as he urged him forward.
"Bumblebee, meet Samuel Witwicky, your new partner."
The way he stressed the word made Sam's smile falter, but he tried not to show it offering a hand to the standoffish fellow.
Bumblebee looked him over and frowned again. He did not need a babysitter, especially not one that was so pathetic. This Samuel kid was shorter than he was, barely out of puberty. His messy brown hair curled over his face not quite covering his hazel eyes. He looked perfectly useless, but if he was to be in the program, he was there for a reason, whether Bee liked it or not.
(Don't need him.) He signed towards Prowl and ignored the tactician's sigh. He glared at Prowl and shook his head making his opinion of the matter quite clear.
'Yamete.' Prowl growled in reply startling his brother. He rarely resorted to his native tongue in front of others, but it was enough to stop the argument cold. Bowing his head, Bumblebee was contrite, but his eyes never wavered from the newcomer.
"Hi." Samuel tried again, "It's nice to meet you, Bumblebee."
When his friendly overtures garnered no response Sam hesitated, peering from the commander to the scowling teen. When no one spoke he offered his hand again. As he moved the speakers across the room sparked to life, blasting with music.
"I don't need you. I don't need friendship."
Galloway however, didn't seem to agree with him. Griping the hacker by the shoulder the man dragged the boy close whispering angrily. Bumblebee sneered back, fingers shaping his less than pleasant rebuttals to his commander. Disgusted with the current debacle Prowl slipped out of the room gesturing for Samuel to follow. Somehow the boy managed the feat without tripping on anything.
Once outside, Prowl addressed the recruit, his tone more official. "Do you have your orders?"
Samuel was unfortunately distracted by other matters.
"Just who is that kid? What's his problem anyway? What are we supposed to be partners for? And how'd the heck did he do that? "
"Mr. Witwicky, if you would focus on the matter at hand, I will be able to answer any questions momentarily. Firstly do you have your orders?"
"No, I don't have anything like that at least I don't think so."
"Did the commander tell you anything?"
" He told me to wait there and not to touch anything" Sam shrugged and sparing a glance at the shut door.
"Have you been introduced to anyone else?"
"No and I don't even know why I'm here." The boy snapped crossing his arms.
"Obviously the commander believes you possess certain skills that would be beneficial to the unit."
"Which would be?"
Prowl ignored him, changing the subject as they stared at the shut door.
"We are the Elites, the result of a federally funded project for cybernetic reconstruction and conversion. "
"What?"
"You'll understand soon," Prowl reassured him. "But for now you should see Ratchet."
No soon had the words been said then ever watched door slid open, revealing Galloway's dour face as he howled with anger at the mute teen. Bumblebee seemed unconcerned rocking back and forth in his seat. Galloway was practically purple with rage, his brows knitted in frustration.
"You will work together. And that is an order."
Slumped in his computer chair the mute teen raised a finger in response before whirling away as the door slid shut again. Swearing softly the commander marched angrily away and Prowl was left with newest recruit; a bedraggled youth, who's assigned partner wasn't even willing to speak with him. There was no help for it, so he did the only thing he could.
Ratchet scowled at them, well more in their direction as he screamed at his partner in crime. Yelling back at him, though a bit more calmly Wheeljack laughed aloud and turned back to the cybernetic limb twitching on the table. Waving a screwdriver in reply, the irritated man turned as Prowl called his name. He spared a single glance in Samuel's direction and his scowl deepened.
"Another one?" he demanded, abandoning his colleague to examine both figures taking up space in his medical bay. With a not too gentle prod at Prowl's enhancements he nodded with grim satisfaction. The officer was still healing well; his body, half converted had accepted the adaptations with no trouble. Even now, it was impossible to tell he'd been changed at all, as the false skin mimicked his golden skin color well.
"The newest recruit, the commander wants him to work with the kid." Prowl reported sharply even so he caught the look that flashed in the older man's eyes. It was despair and anger rolled together, but the medic seemed to collect himself quickly.
"I see." His voice held an odd lilt, but Sam wasn't sure, it was almost like the brogue of the Irish.
He had no time to really consider intricacies of vocal inflections as the man ordered him up onto a table before turning to Prowl.
"Does he have papers?"
Spreading his hands the officer shook his head. "Not that I know of…"
The medic snorted in reply.
"Fine. I'll handle it, why don't you go keep an eye on you know who."
Pushing the newest recruit to lay flat, he continued in a softer tone. "He's not as alright as he seems, but I haven't been able to pin him down on it."
Offering a salute Prowl backed away and turned leaving Samuel to the tender mercies of the base's CMO.
As he fiddled with the inner workings of the Cybernetic limb Wheeljack paused to look at the kid squirming under Ratchet's hands. He was almost scrawnier than Bumblebee, but his muscle definition was good enough, that he'd probably be able to handle some of the lighter Elite modifications. Which ones would depend on his talent, and whatever they intended to try out on him. Lifting the twitching arm he caught Ratchet's eyes and left for his own lab, shaking his head as he went.
Sam sat on the table and removed his shirt at the medic's orders. He was cold, shivering as the man poked and prodded. He only winced as the medic took blood sample. He even made him give a urine sample and filled out the papers for the medical work. From what Ratchet saw, physically the boy could very well be in the program. Mentally, he might be a problem but as he'd observed up to this point everyone had problems adjusting at fist.
If he was to be Bumblebee's partner, he probably had some computing skills. In that instance, the higher ups usually insisted on wetware and jacks. Those kind of modifications were simple to installed, much easier that a limb or an organ.
He would wait though to know more, he was already being told to speed up the process with the others to chase down the ones who had fled.
"Sir?" Sam asked quietly as he sat on the examination table in his underwear. The man was doing yet another test on him; this one involved more prodding, mostly around his spine and shoulders.
"Ratchet." The medic corrected. "I'm chief medical officer for the base, and I hate formality."
"Oh, what exactly is going on?" Sam asked.
"Don't you know anything?"
"Only that my uncle asked me to help with something, and sent me here."
"Name?"
"I'm Sam Witwicky, My Uncle is Charles."
"I see…yes. The project is the cybernetic-enhancement of humans. The results of which, you may have already seen. A good number of the soldiers here have some kind of enhancement; the most successful subjects have been Prowl, who you've met, Jazz, Ironhide and our commander Orion. Besides them, we have three younger men who are not enlisted. Bumblebee is our resident hacker and the twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."
"Are those really their names?"
"No, they are code names; we are not allowed the luxury of our past. When you join this outfit they strip away what's left." He sounded melancholy and Samuel worried immediately.
"Do I get one?"
He sounded unsure and afraid, but the Medic was hardly surprised. No one was ever sure that he wanted to leave his family and his life behind. He'd soon have to make that choice, if he was allowed at all.
"Maybe." Ratchet answered softly. It was not his place to bestow designations. That was one of Orion's many duties as team leader. Whether it was an honor or not was still to be seen. The internal conflict of the medic's was suddenly interrupted as a shout echoed through the infirmary. He groaned aloud and turned to face the pair staggering in the doorway. Nearly replicas of each other beside the color of their hair and eyes, it was obvious they were related, if not twins.
"Don't you two have patrol, target practice or something to do instead of bothering me?" The doctor growled.
The taller pointed to the other's arm, which was sparking at an alarming rate.
"We're done with target practice." He announced.
"Ironhide said to head over here and get checked out." His brother interjected answered.
"But my aim is improving." The first finished proudly.
Probably used to the double talk, Ratchet ignored them and pointed to another table. "Sit."
Sam stared at the wobbling pair. He had yet to see any of these upgrades Prowl and Ratchet had mentioned. The Elites he'd seen had both looked normal enough. However, the skin of the twin's arm was scorched, some of it was peeled back to reveal the wires and mechanical components underneath. His companion perched next to him grinned at Samuel as he swung his legs back and forth.
"I'm Sunstreaker," he drawled, leaning to elbow his sibling, "and this is my brother and partner Sideswipe." The two smiled at Sam reminding him of the Cheshire cat from a story his mom had read him as a kid. It was kind of creepy.
"Sam Witwicky," He answered simply. "I'm supposed to be working with Bumblebee."
"Oh yeah, good luck with that." Sunstreaker winked.
Sideswipe muttered some sort of prayer crossing himself.
Ratchet glared and ordered them to be silent.
"It's not as terrible as they make it sound." He added, for Samuel's benefit.
"Oh, of course it's not." Sunstreaker laughed as his brother made a slitting motion across his throat.
"How cruel, to bring such a young boy into this madness to simply to condemn him. What a waste."
"Such a shame" Sideswipe interjected. ", he'd looked so promising."
"Shut up both of you." Ratchet said finishing his work on Sam. "Before I tell Prowl you've been shirking your duties."
The twins fell silent, and turned sad eyes towards the teen, smiling faintly.
"Idiots." Ratchet growled before turning to Sam his voice softening. "Better get back to your quarters."
"Where are they?" The boy asked not sure he really wanted to know.
"You'll be sharing with Bumblebee."
"Oh."He looked crestfallen, unsure if he'd survive to know more about the project.
"The boy is doomed." Sunstreaker said simply as Sam left the infirmary shuffling his feet.
00000000000000000
Signs of foreign intrusion alit the security protocols of Bumblebee's desktop, he'd been hacked. His baby, a monstrous machine of seventeen processers with more to add, had been invaded.
Bumblebee was livid; in the scant time he'd been away from his beauty, that thing that was to be his partner had messed with his computer.
With a single keystroke he recalled the key logger and surveillance software. Witwicky, that boy, had gotten into the personnel files snooped around and slipped out without being caught at his game. As he queued the password algorithm Bee scowled. He'd done it so easily, far too easily. There should have been no way anyone could have gotten into his files. Not even Frenzy had gotten that far
He hated to admit it, but there was a chance, a minute chance that the boy was actually skilled and could pass for a decent partner. Still that didn't mean he'd accept him or his partnership.
Interference with his Teletraan was something her would not forgive.
Sam glared at the door to what was supposed to be his quarters with Bumblebee. It was still locked. With no keycard or password, he was sore out of luck. He tried the keypad twice, his fingers skimming the numerical for pi to the seventeenth digit and then the geographical coordinates of the Elite base. Still the door refused to budge. In the middle of third attempt which involved the sum of both previous numerals divided by the number of medical files in the infirmary, he noticed he was no longer alone.
How long his audience had been there Samuel didn't know, he'd been so intent on breaking in to his own room. The jovial voice startled him and he nearly had a heart attack on the spot.
"Need something?"
Sam turned to see a dark skinned man with odd silver glasses wrapped around his face under his twisted dreadlocks. He wore the same uniform as everyone else, which only made Sam feel more out of place.
He swallowed his apprehension and addressed the man, rising to nearly his full height, which wasn't all that tall.
"My name's Sam Witwicky," he began, pausing to add an honorific "Sir, I'm a new recruit, I'm supposed to work with Bumblebee but I'm locked out."
"It's Jazz." The man said simply.
"Huh?" Sam stared at the older man rather confused.
"The designation's Jazz. I'm second in command of the Elites. Step aside and let a pro handle this."
Sam nodded and moved out of the way watching as Jazz tapped keypad and suddenly the door slid open.
"Bumblebee. You can't leave your toys out in the hall." Jazz called poking his head in. The hacker turned and stuck his tongue out, moving his hands in response.
"So I've been told. But now he's your partner and we all have to follow orders."
Turning to Sam, he continued with a smile.
"There's a bed in the mess somewhere and your stuff should have arrived already. If it hasn't it should be along soon. I'm off to find the commander so play nice."
He stepped out into the hall and turned back and pointed at the teen scowling in his chair.
"You behave Bumblebee; we don't wanna scare him away just yet." And with that he left.
As the door slid shut behind him Bumblebee sent a withering glare in the boy's direction. Sam gulped once and dropped upon the footlocker with a sheepish smile.
Maybe the twins had been right.
00000000000000000
Prowl looked at Orion worriedly; the skin of his face was ashen under the pained lines of his eyes.
"You should see Ratchet." He insisted softly, his hand tightening on the man's chair. Orion was suffering, that much was obvious but stubbornly the man was trying to ignore it.
"I'm fine."
The reply was terse, but the officer ignored it accepting the data pad from the commander's hands. There in the corner a smear of crimson stained the screen. Prowl matched Orion's gaze, but he waved it off.
"I cut myself with a letter opener."
Prowl wasn't convinced. He did not believe the sheepish lie for an instant, but he could not order the man to do anything. He just had to wait until his superior arrived, which he hoped would be soon. Only Jazz or Ratchet had the right to override Orion.
"Sir if you don't mind, I'll take care of this. There is however one condition."
At the comment Orion looked warily at him.
"I'd ask that you join me for lunch." The Asian man said simply.
Eyeing his desk, covered in files and data pads, Orion managed a soft smile.
"That I can handle." He answered, gesturing to the door.
"Lead the way."
Almost relieved Prowl shook his head. "I hope I never have to hear you say that again Sir."
"Some dedication." Orion muttered in reply the doors parting before them.
As Prowl turned back to respond he saw Orion falter. Throwing himself forward he caught his commander as he swooned, staggering under the enhanced man's bulk. Tapping his ear piece, he hooked into the communication system calling the Infirmary.
"Ratchet, I need you in the commander's office now. Orion's down."
"I'll be there soon, keep him still." The doctor ordered.
"Yes sir." was Prowl's only response as he was distracted by Orion's pained sigh.
When Ratchet arrived, he wasn't alone. Three of his medical team lifted the man onto the gurney, inserting IVs as they marched to the infirmary. X-rays and blood tests began as soon as they passed through the wide doors the Medical wing eerily silent as nurses and techs rushed back and forth.
."Wheeljack get here now." Ratchet howled across the Infirmary despite the silence, his eyes scanning the scans and results before him. The blonde scientist was there at the bellow of his name, snagging a few files as he stepped beside his comrade
The man looked as tired as Ratchet felt, his rumpled clothes and mess of his hair much worse than usual.
"It looks like we have to do a lot more repairs than we thought." Ratchet said quietly as he handed him another X-ray.
"Damn" he swore, turning the sheet in his hand reaching another page of results. "This is bad. Can we even fix this?" The damage inflicted had was worst than even Prowl's injuries had been. It was easily the worse that they'd seen so far. Malcolm's handiwork had practically killed the commander.
"There's only one way. The only way to save him is to do exactly what they want us to do with every other subject." Ratchet shuddered as he watched Orion's labored breaths, First time they'd had done it. Well the subject was still in a coma.
"Are you seriously suggesting a full conversion?" Wheeljack looked surprised Ratchet had even mentioned it. He'd balked at the mere suggestion of a second attempt of that failed project every time since he'd washed that blood off his hands.
His tone was clipped and he nodded once. "Yes."
"We can't possibly attempt full conversions; it's inhumane, against the hypocritical oath." Wheeljack parroted the words of his friend from so long ago, nearly yelling by this point.
The medic was visibly deflated, but his voice was as steady as his hands.
"I know, but Orion is my friend. I will not let him die in spite of my misgivings. My morals aren't more important than his life."
The engineer was silent as they listened to the heart monitor ringing a death knell for their commander.
There really wasn't anything else to be said. The Elite Project, it had originally been Ratchet's dream, cybernetic enhancements to help restore movement and quality of life to those who needed it most.
Orion had not volunteered for it, Ratchet had approached him. Due to the danger associated with conversions, only the most injured individuals were eligible for the project. The medic had been afraid when he'd offered half cracked proposal to help the man he'd known for so long after a mission gone wrong.
The damage to his spine had been irreversible and Malcolm had blamed himself for the loss of his friend. As a medic he'd felt the guilt himself, but this time it was so much worse. Orion Pax, was no longer paralyzed. He was dying and there was only one way to prevent it. Wheeljack was already moving towards the Operating Room, calling to their staff as he moved.
His absence left Ratchet with the last duty to the man he was trying to save. Orion was barely conscious; but he smiled weakly as he met the eyes of his old friend. Even in a lot of pain and under sedation he knew that look
"Ratchet?" He whispered.
"You have massive internal bleeding, due to cracked ribs and punctured organs. It's much worse than we thought."
"Am I-"
"There's only one choice to save you"
"Then why are you hesitating?"
Closing his hand over Orion's arm, he pressed a syringe into his skin.
"I'm not."
They sat quietly listening to the machines and the harsh racking breaths the commander took before sedatives finally put him under.
Laying the pale hand back against the white sheets Ratchet motioned for the technicians waiting just outside.
Looking at the head nurse, he nodded once.
"Prep him for the surgery; it's time to see if all of our research was for nothing."
TBC…
A Warning Sign -Coldplay
Goodnight and Go -Imogen Heap
Have You Got It In You? -Imogen Heap
I Don't Need You - Kenny Rogers