Hello! This is a pre-cannon story that I've been wanting to write for a bit now.
We know the bots were on Earth long before the kids appeared into their lives; we also know that Fowler was assigned to them, as their liaison with the outside world (and that none of them was leaping in joy for it). But how did all started? How did Fowler, former Army Ranger, ended up being a Special Agent in charge of a bunch of 'autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron'?
Hope you like it!
Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes in here. I further apologize for it...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers Prime, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.
CLOSE ENCOUNTER
Well, that was one sight that nobody ever saw ―at least not among the human part of the team. Optimus Prime, the relentless leader of the Autobots, was actually fast asleep at the sick bay's medical berth. It was so surreal that all the humans around were watching the scene as if they would've stumbled upon a unicorn; Miko even took a dozen pictures, just to make sure to never forget the moment. But none of them said a word, so they wouldn't disturb him. After the recent events ―giving up on the Matrix to save the planet, losing his memory, and ending up helping the Decepticons without know it―, he deserved it. "Man, I never saw him so worn out in these ten years…" Fowler thought, remembering how the Prime powered down almost as soon as his head hit the berth. Ratchet was doing his best to run a medical scan over his leader without waking him up; and, once he was finished, he couldn't help but glance at the Decepticon shield that was now replacing the Autobot badge on the red and blue mech's shoulders.
"A matter for another time…" He mumbled, rubbing his optics. "Optimus seems to be fine; at least physically…" The medic announced, turning to face the team. "Only time will tell how his mind will take these recent events." He added, briefly turning to dedicate a worried look to his old friend and leader, before go back to the others. "However, I believe that a quick scan is in order for you, Jack."
"M-me?!" The teenager repeated, recoiling a bit.
Ratchet nodded.
"Suit or not, Cybertron's atmosphere isn't appropriated for organic species. We're fine with its toxicity due to our inorganic nature, thanks to which we do not require oxygen… or any kind of air." Ratchet explained, and soon noticed that he was getting out of the subject, reason why he shook his head and went back to the matter: "I just want to make sure that our planet's toxic and acid environment didn't affect you in any way. As you can imagine, we never had human visitors before."
After receiving a nod and a smile from his mother, the teenager followed the Autobot medic into the sickbay; then, the bot placed him on another stretcher and told him to stay still. As soon as he said this, the scanner's light fell upon Jack, who had to close his eyes at its brightness. June watched everything from afar, worry in her eyes. Meanwhile, Bulkhead and Bumblebee took their charges, saying that it was late already and that they needed to go back home before getting in trouble with their families. Reluctantly, the kids agreed. "Back then, we had a deal: no civilians, nor collateral damage; and yet… If these kids wouldn't have been around…" Fowler thought, watching over the slumbering figure of Optimus.
"Seems you're fine." Ratchet's voice brought the agent back to the sick bay. The doctor was checking the scan results. "But, we should repeat the scan tomorrow's morning; just to make sure." He added, looking at the boy.
"Fine for me." Jack agreed, jumping off the stretcher and walking towards the platform; however, he couldn't help but to dedicate a worried look towards Prime. "You're sure he's going to be fine, right?" He asked, worried.
"Jack." Arcee called, smirking rather reassuring. "Primes don't break that easy."
Hearing those words made the teenager feel better, and smile; reason why he agreed to leave the base and go back home. And, since June had yet to buy a new car, Arcee had to take both of them. Finally, Fowler and Ratchet became the only conscious beings inside the silo.
"Perhaps you should get some rest too, Agent Fowler." The white and orange bot recommended.
"I know." The man admitted, backing away, into the elevator. "Keep me posted on Prime's condition." He asked, before the doors shut in front of him, and the machine started to take him toward the heliport at the top.
The moment he got onto the helicopter, Fowler knew that a very long debriefing was about to take place between him and his superiors. He'll have to start with the Unicron-thing, and go from there… How on Earth was he supposed to explain that a giant, alien titan was living at the planet's core?! Ugh… Sometimes, he really wished not to have been doing those rounds that day… when the bots fell off the sky…
… … …
Back then, he was just doing some regular rounds near the base in which he used to serve, when he detected something. It was a bright line, falling off the sky. His first impression? A meteorite, perhaps some space-trash, maybe some parts of an old satellite. After informing to his superiors, he received order to check it out; reason why he flew towards the probable impact zone. It was yet a smudge on the clear Nevada's sky when he neared the area; however, he could now tell that it was one big rock… It wasn't until later that he knew just how big it was… and that it was no rock…
It happened in a split second, but the thing passed right in front of him, crashing against the ground floor a mile away from his current position, and drifting for another couple yards, until it came to full stop. Reporting that the object finally hit the ground, the pilot went to check what it was. "What the-?! It… It can't be!" He thought, eyes opened wide behind his mask.
Right below him rested a very large, very burned, very dented, and very alien, metallic spacecraft. It looked battered, and dented; but, most importantly, some of the marks weren't the result of its unfortunate entry into their atmosphere. To begin with, it seemed that this was just part of the whole vessel; and, if it was so, where was the rest of it? Afraid of what he might find, the pilot searched of a good spot to land, while giving his coordinates to his superiors; hopefully, they would send someone more… qualified for this kind of situation. At least, someone who actually believed that they weren't alone in the universe ―to being honest, he always thought that the aliens and UFOs were pure fantasy, movies' material.
Finally, after a few rounds, he was capable of landing behind the ship, and to exit his F-22. From where he was standing, the ranger noticed two things: first of all, the ship was leaking some blue liquid that was probably its fuel, meaning that he had to keep his distance ―alien or not, the thing could start a fire―; and, second, whatever was traveling inside didn't crash by accident. Considering the damage that the vessel sustained, someone shot these guys off the air; which made him wonder a more important question: why, and what just happened?
A banging noise made him jolt and reach for his gun, looking around. It wasn't until the sound repeated for the third or fourth time that the soldier realized that it was coming from the wreckage. Whatever thing was driving that vessel, was still alive and was trying to get out. And for a good reason too: he saw that there were flames at the other end of the ship. The creature was trying to get away, just not to be burn to a crisp; but the hatch seemed to be jammed, probably for the accident. He looked back and forward between the ginormous door and the nearing fire. "Alien or not, I can't let it be burned alive!" He thought, gritting his teeth and putting away his gun, while running up to the shuttle's hatch to have a closer look. Perhaps he could do something to force it open; maybe if he could find the lock… But it was useless, the whole thing was nothing alike our doors, and he had no idea of how it operates. Until he saw movement: whatever was inside was trying to pry it, thanks to which he understood the problem. There was debris blocking the mechanism, mostly rocks. He should be able to take care of it with his aircraft's guns…
So, making his mind, he restarted the plane and, careful not to touch the blue leaking fuel, he cleaned the door's pivot so it could open. And it finally did: the next time that it was hit from inside, it gave in and the occupants ran off, followed by a thick curtain of smoke. Seems the fire was as bad inside as it was outside. "What, in Abraham Lincoln's name, are they?!" The creatures were huge! Giants! And made of metal. One of them, a yellow one, apparently was a bit dizzy for the crash landing, or maybe for the smoke; either way, it wobbled out, only to, finally slip over the blue liquid. Even from up high, the man could see how it seemed to jerk up the moment that it saw its hands covered in the fuel. Immediately, the creature tried to get up but slipped again. Now, the human pilot could tell: that one was hurt, reason why the other two tried to go back for their comrade, but an explosion made them recoil. The fire was expanding.
"C'mon, fella…" He cheered, between his teeth, watching how one of the creatures was trying to get the yellow one up, before the whole thing became an inferno.
Fortunately, a fourth being exited the shuttle. This one was much bigger than the others, and didn't hesitate in grabbing the wounded one and drag him away. Right on time too… The whole ship exploded as soon as the flames reached the blue liquid.
«Charlie-Tango-Zulu, we heard an explosion. Come in. » Apparently, the promised backup wasn't too far.
"Here, Charlie-Tango-Zulu, I'm at the impact zone. The object blew up." He informed.
«Copied. We'll rendezvous at your coordinates in brief. Over. »
"Understood." That said, he decided to make a round, just to try to locate the survivors.
As expected, it wasn't too hard. They were hard to miss, and, anyway, they weren't too far from the crash site either. In fact, the four aliens were now staring right at him. "Please don't consider me a hostile…" He silently begged as he decided to take his chances, and landed near them. The moment his plane touch the ground, one of the creatures, the green one, aimed at him with what he recognized as guns. It was only natural for them to be a little defensive, if they just survived an attack, so no surprises there… What really took the man aback, was the fact that the creature had the ability to turn his hands into guns! What was he dealing with?!
Taking a deep breath, he opened the cockpit and exited the F-22 slowly, before take his mask off. At this, the largest of the four aliens, gestured the green one to low his weapons. The other one complied, while saying something in their own language. It sounded metallic, strange, like a bunch of hissing and clicking put all together in different tunes and speeds. He could only hope that it meant 'this thing is not a threat'.
However, after hear them, he knew one thing: introductions would be pointless. No way would they be able to understand each other. Then, he thought of something: his backup was on its way, and these guys just got shot down; since they were unable to communicate with each other, they might consider these things a threat and attack. After all, he just saw them being a bit jumpy. "Oh, boy…" Quickly, he opened a channel with his team, and told them to stand down and to go back to their base, while explaining the complete situation…
Unknown to him, the four creatures were observing him intently, as if they were trying to figure something out. Especially the red and blue one.
A few days later, he got to know that the Pentagon took personal care of the aliens; in other words, he had to stop wondering about them. But he couldn't. The way in which they ran off the moment in which the hatch went open; how the yellow one stumbled upon the spilled fuel in terror, desperately trying to get up; and how the big one dragged everyone to a safe distance… For what he saw, they looked like robots. But they sure didn't act like one. During those few seconds, they proved to be… alive, and to be self-conscious.
Sighing, he just tried to leave that day behind him. There was nothing he could do for them now… Or so he thought, until Bryce called for him, next to another bunch of people in dark suits. Arching an eyebrow, the soldier followed them into an isolated room.
"We need you to come with us." One of the strangers said. "It's about your… recent finding."
The pilot, simply cocked his head before turn to look at his general.
"Sir, I do not understand. I already surrendered everything I got from that day." He claimed.
"We know, Bill. But this isn't about your reports, nor your security footage." Bryce announced. "Apparently, the aliens refuses to talk."
"Not a wonder." The soldier chuckled. "I heard them, and, trust me, their language has no resembles with ours…" He told the visitors.
"That's the main point, soldier." The same guy from before said. "They seem to have learned English overnight." He explained, walking up to the, now, kind of startled pilot. "They show clear signs of understanding what we say, but whenever we try to communicate with them, they go back to their own language. So, we wish to change our approach."
Before knowing what exactly was going on, the soldier found himself inside a black car, and on his way to the bunker where they were holding the aliens. It was a very large compound, like a hangar, but it seemed teeny when occupied by four extra-large robots; especially the red and blue one, whose head almost brushed the ceiling. "How am I supposed to do this?" He gulped, walking into the room in which they locked them. However, the walls weren't reinforced, and, judging by their size, these bots could've escaped a long time ago. Why didn't they? As he entered, using a catwalk that put him at the aliens' eye level. The moment the door closed behind him, the tallest creature turned around, spotting the man, and quickly walked up to the newcomer ―one step, that was it, and he got across the room.
The alien looked at him, as if expecting something.
Arching an eyebrow, he took his chances.
"Um… I don't know whether you can understand me or not, but… I'm William Fowler from the Army Rangers of America." He introduced him. "Maybe you remember me… from the crash site?" He wondered, at the lack of answer.
And… suddenly, the alien nodded. Did he understood what he just said? One way to find out was keep talking; and make him respond with words.
"I was sent to talk to you… Um…"
"My designation is Optimus Prime." The creature introduced itself, in a strong, deep, baritone voice. There was a lot of authority in that voice… Whoever he was, he had to be someone important.
A little shocked, Fowler nodded and kept talking.
"Optimus Prime." He repeated, the alien didn't even blink. "I understand that you refused to communicate with the officers…"
At this, Optimus frowned, offended. Apparently, there was something about the agents who brought them here that this guy didn't like.
"We mean no harm to your race, yet they locked us away as prisoners. One of my mechs is wounded and requires medical attention." He announced, gesturing to the yellow one, who was sitting on the corner. The white and orange one was crouched next to him, apparently treating his comrade. "I demand you release us, and let us scavenge for our medical equipment in order to give him proper treatment."
"I… am not an actual agent here. I don't have authority, but…" Fowler, looked at the fake mirror that was in one of the walls. At the other side of it, surely a bunch of people were recording this whole conversation. He sighed. "I… can try to convince them to let you go. But, they're surely expecting some answers in exchange, such as what are you, and what happened to you." He wondered.
Prime looked back to his men and seemed to hold a small debate with them in their own language. In the end, whatever the white and orange one said seemed to make them take the decision of answer these questions, for he nodded and faced the man again.
"As for your first question, we are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron. And the reason of why we winded up at your planet is simple: we were attacked." He answered.
"By who?"
"Allow me to attend to my mechs, and I will explain myself better." The red and blue alien pressed.
Since this was the only way for them to gain any answers, the agents allowed the aliens to go and gather whatever they needed to heal their comrade; however, at least one of them had to stay back at the base. Again, this Optimus-guy accepted with a nod and told something to his men in their own language; next thing the humans knew, both the green one and the white and orange one left the compounds, transforming into some weird looking vehicles. This took everyone aback. Meanwhile, Prime went to kneel next to the wounded one, saying something in their own language; apparently it was some soothing message, since the other one nodded weakly, holding onto his right leg.
Only then, Fowler noticed the bright blue liquid that was leaking out of the yellow being. He was bleeding out… Fortunately for the bot, the other two returned soon enough, carrying some sort of giant cases. The white and orange one hurried to go back to the wounded one's side, opened his kit, and, in no time, started to patch up his friend.
Seeing that his request was fulfilled, Optimus walked back to Fowler and agreed to answer all their questions now. It took the red and blue bot over two hours to explain that they were an inorganic species, that their planet Cybertron was currently destroyed, and that their entire race was at war; but, most importantly, Optimus revealed that he was the leader of one of the two factions ―they called themselves Autobots―, and that his vessel, the Ark, was attacked by the other army ―the Decepticons, led by Megatron. What arrived to Earth, was nothing but a shuttle, which they used to avoid their termination when the main ship was taken down. Apparently, there were thousands of them within the Ark, now… only they four remained, as far as they know, since their communications range was limited.
After making Prime spill the answers that the federal agents were looking for, Fowler was taken out of the room and told not to say a word of what he saw. It was an order. Nodding, the soldier allowed these people to take him back to his base.
Two months went by, and the aliens weren't seen again; or, at least, he didn't. However, he couldn't stop thinking about them; especially the little one, the yellow, the one who Optimus called Bumblebee, when he introduced his comrades. Hopefully, they managed to stop the bleeding… "Oh, snap out of it already! They're not your problem; you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, reason why you saw them crash. Let the federals handle this…" Fowler told himself, while doing some exercises. "But… they did say that they were fighting a war, and that Optimus is the leader of one of the two armies. So, if the others happens to realize where he ended…" Before being able to finish this thought, he was told to join a response team and go to a set of coordinates. It was the same place where the aliens were being kept. "Not good." Accepting the mission, he flew off.
The place was on fire. Literally.
The thick column of smoke was visible from miles away, next to the other F-22 that were already at the site. Maybe the creatures grew tired of how they were being treated and decided to blow their way out? No. The closer he got, the clearer he could see it: there were more aliens, ones he never saw before, purple ones, attacking the building. Gritting his teeth he called for air support, as he entered the battle. But, the moment his bullets bounced off the creature, he knew: it was useless to engage them…
And that was the moment in which a cerulean discharge hit the purple robot square in the face, making him stumble backwards. Then, the green alien that he found a long time ago, came out of the smoke, charging against the other purple being; meanwhile, Bumblebee went into a boxing match with the first bot, which was getting back onto his feet. "Not sure of what I'm seeing, nor if I like it…" Fowler thought, right before a shot took him out of the sky. Ejecting, the soldier couldn't help but yelp as the wind was starting to carry him towards the fire… Until a hand grabbed him and pulled him towards safety: Optimus. Turns out that he, and Ratchet ―the medic―, were helping the humans to evacuate the building, while the other two buy them some time.
"Remain here." The red and blue bot ordered, while he ran towards the battle, followed closely by the white and orange alien, whose hands were now blades.
It took a while, but, eventually, the battle noises faded. By the time they received the 'all clear', there were four or five purple bots offline, lying around; only Prime and his men were standing. The four of them turned to look at the humans they just saved.
"Now you believe us?!" The green one, Bulkhead complained, gesturing to the terminated bots.
"Wait… What?" Fowler turned to look at one of the agents behind him. "They told you about these oversized toasters?!"
"We tried." Optimus admitted, unmasking his face, and putting away his guns. "These were merely drones, probably scouts, looking for us… Me…" He explained, glancing to the purple bots. "They must have tracked our shuttle to this planet, if they weren't here beforehand. I fear that our war has already reached you, agents."
"Excuse me?" Fowler saw that the man speaking was the same who brought him here to talk with these beings a couple months ago. "What you mean by that? As far as I know, we do not belong to any of your factions."
"You clearly failed to understand us in these past days, Agent Smith." Optimus said, shaking his head with his eyes closed. "During the war, warriors from both armies scattered to the stars, taking reserves of Energon, our only fuel, with them; and, when Cybertron finally went dark, the rest of us started to look after said spoils. The presence of Decepticons means that they have already stablished an off-world hideaway here, in your planet." He kneeled down to the level of the humans. "In other words, we four are the only line of defense between you, and them."
"How to know that you aren't the bad guys here?" Smith pressed.
"We could've left you in the fire." Bulkhead pointed out, matter-of-factly.
"Not that it didn't cross our minds…" Ratchet muttered, averting his eyes, and receiving an elbow to the waist from Bumblebee, who beeped something to him. "But of course we wouldn't. No self-respecting Autobot would show disrespect for life. Any kind of life."
"Unlike the Decepticons." Optimus added. "And now, they might believe us allied with your species; thus, I believe that your kind now requires Autobot protection."
It was obvious that the agent called Smith was more than pained of admitting such thing, but the truth was that the alien was right. Their guns were a hundred times more efficient than human ones; plus, these were their enemies, so they knew them. So, in the end, they accepted the creatures' help… They had to. But there were going to be conditions: they would have to report to an agent, who would control them from time to time; they would also have to manage their war under the radar, meaning that they had to be invisible for unauthorized humans. If they didn't agree to any of these catches, they would end up in the Area fifty-one… Name that didn't mean a damn thing for the aliens, but everybody else knew the reference.
Optimus seemed to ponder the clauses for over a minute or two, before nodding.
"I find your terms understandable; however, we will have conditions of our own." He said.
"Such as…?" Smith asked.
"A base of operations, and full access to our shuttle's wreckage, to recover as much equipment as we can." The tall bot listed out, receiving a nod.
"Anything else?"
"Optimus." Ratchet called. "I fear that some of their demands are going to be impossible for us; I mean… We kind of stand out among them, how are we supposed to pass unnoticed?" He pointed out.
The Prime looked at his men, then at the humans… and then to the crashed F-22 that was taken down by the drones they just fought, and arched an eyebrow.
"We require access to some… earthen vehicles. Ground vehicles, please." Optimus suddenly requested.
The agents brought them all kind of cars, some of them of military origin; but the aliens went straight to the civilian ones: the scout chose a muscle car, a Camaro; the green, bulky one, chose an off-road green truck; and Optimus, the biggest of them, found a semi-truck suitable for his size. The medic, on the other hand, chose one of the ambulances that came to the place due to the fire…
When they were about to start the negotiation of the base's location, Fowler decided to leave, and forget that this meeting ever happened. But, much like the first time, after a while, he was called again…
Two years after the incident, Bryce asked him to meet at his office. This time, he was getting reassigned as the Autobots' governmental liaison. "I, what?!" He complained, did everything in his power to refuse the job; but the superiors insisted, since, for some odd reason, the creatures didn't seem as uncomfortable with him, as they were with Smith ―plus, apparently, that man didn't do a good job in keeping them on check. Well, considering what he saw in the few meeting he had with the agent, he couldn't actually blame Optimus and the others for refusing to work with him, but…
No. He didn't want to do it; it would mean to be glued to a desk for the rest of his professional career, and that was not happening. He was a soldier, a man of action; he didn't know how to deal with all the bureaucracy that the other guy was playing, in order to keep those aliens hidden. Plus, if they messed up, the blame would be on him; and he was no robots' babysitter.
And yet, here he was… On his way to the Autobots' assigned base of operations: an abandoned silo, not too far from Jasper, Nevada ―a forgotten town to which nobody paid too much attention. It was the perfect hideaway for a bunch of ginormous, mechanic aliens. However, he didn't expect the upgrades that the bots were performing inside, starting with a proximity sensor that made them be on his guard by the time he arrived. Fortunately, Bulkhead lowered his guns when he recognized the Afro-American man. In fact, he arched an eyebrow.
"Fowler?" He mused out loud, confused. "What are you doing here?" The bot asked, cocking his head to the left.
"I've been reassigned." The new agent said, dryly, as he stepped out of the elevator, into the platform. From his spot, he could see Ratchet tinkering with the systems. "Any problems with the equipment, doc?"
The white and orange bot immediately tensed at the question, his shoulders stiff. Growling, the medic turned around with a deep scowl on his face; thanks to this, Fowler could see that he was attaching some sort of green, alien-like, keyboard to the mainframe. Was that from their ship or something?
"Don't call me 'Doc'…" Ratchet hissed. "And, yes. I have a problem: your technology is eons behind ours. I'm trying to reconfigure your mainframe, so it would cover our necessities better…" He explained, going back to the wirings he was working on.
"Can you elaborate that?" Fowler arched an eyebrow.
Evidently tired of the annoying conversation, the medic sighed under his breath, before asking the agent why the 'sudden interest' in their activities, since he walked out of their lives a long time ago. It gave the man the hint: nobody told these guys that there was a new human in charge. "Thanks for nothing…" Fowler thought, before tell the aliens that he was their new liaison, reason why he needed to know their every move. Surprisingly, this news seemed to shock them, since both, Ratchet and Bulkhead ended up staring at him in disbelief. Was it really so hard to believe?
Heavy, metallic steps made him look towards a hallway behind his back: Optimus Prime was approaching.
"What happened to Agent Smith?" The leader wondered.
"Beats me." Their new liaison answered with a shrug. "All I know is that the high command wanted me here, supervising you. So, here I am." He said, grumpily, crossing his arms.
"Hey, fleshy…" Everyone turned at Bulkhead's call, he was also with his arms crossed. "Did no one told you? We're not supposed to fill you in, you have to translate the world to us." He snickered.
"What?!"
"Bulkhead, please, show more patience." Optimus asked, politely, to his subordinate. "I apologize for this… reception." He told the human, turning to look at him. "But I fear that nobody warned us about Agent Smith's retirement."
"I imagined that much already…" Fowler pointed out, gesturing towards Ratchet and the warrior. "But it hardly matters now. I came to take a look, see how things are. Then, I'll fill a report about it."
"I understand." The tall red and blue bot nodded.
Then, sighing, the agent started to look around, noticing that… the aliens made a huge hole in one wall, and were filling it with weird wirings and metal arches.
"Mind to explain?" He asked, pointing at the structure.
"That's a ground-bridge…" The Autobot leader started to explain.
"Unfinished ground-bridge!" Ratchet clarified from behind.
"It allow us to transport ourselves to any desired coordinate within its range." Prime kept saying, pretending he didn't hear the medic. "We're yet calibrating it."
"I… can't say I'm following…" The agent admitted, scratching the back of his neck.
The white and orange bot chuckled, while installing the keyboard.
"Not that we expected you to." The old bot said, maliciously. "As I said, your technology is way more primitive than ours; and even for us, the level of knowledge required to dominate the art of ground-bridging is too difficult to obtain." Then, he scoffed remembering something. "And let's not even mention the space-bridge technology! One requires mega-cycles of hard study to even learn the basics!" He finished, powering on the mainframe to finish its modifications. "You're not even able to build proper spaceships yet…" He muttered, eyeing the human with the corner of his eye.
"Excuse me?!" Fowler yelled, frowning. He couldn't help his temper, for he did catch the last part… "And who the hell do you think you are?!"
"Please, apologize Ratchet's behavior." Optimus hurried to say, gesturing everyone to calm down. "The human who worked with us for the past two years…"
"…was a total pain in the aft." Bulkhead interrupted his leader's speech, gaining everyone's attention, plus a low growl from Optimus, who was clearly trying to keep everyone from killing each other on Fowler's first day. "What? Someone had to say it…" He defended himself, shrugging. "He kept calling us machines, and let's not forget his rude 'conversation' with Bee a couple days ago! He was lucky the kid is kind-sparked, otherwise he would've gotten himself beaten into a pulp!"
"Among other things." The medic added, eyes on the screen in front of him, yet glaring at the memories that were coming to his mind.
Apparently things were worse than expected… The bots already seemed to hate the humankind guts, all thanks to some jerk that they put as the aliens' connection with the outside world. And his superiors wanted him to fix this? They needed an ambassador, a diplomat! Not a soldier! "I'm screwed…" He was thinking, right when a pair of headlights came through the entrance tunnel. At first, he thought that it was the missing scout… Turns out that it were two new bots that he never saw before. The first one was a bulky, red male; the other one was a small female of blue paint, which transformed into a motorcycle.
And that was when he lost his patience… again.
"What the…?! PRIME! Who are these two, and why are they here?!"
"Agent Fowler, these are our new recruits: Arcee and Cliffjumper. They arrived from Cybertron a couple weeks ago, and are now learning how to behave in your planet." Optimus explained.
At the mention of the word 'agent' the red one arched an eyebrow and turned towards Bulkhead.
"Another one? I thought we were working with the creepy guy…" He wondered out loud.
"Apparently, he got fired." The green bot answered.
"He did?" The female one, Arcee, asked. She seemed surprised as she made a double-take. "Good. The fleshy was a slag-bag…" She, then, added, frowning.
"You're telling me?" Cliffjumper wondered with an unamused huff, looking at the blue bot. "He bossed everyone around, even Optimus; not to mention that he practically sent me to frag myself, and treated you as a toy car!" He complained, frowning and gesturing toward the female at the last part. "Oh, and let's not forget Bee's and Ratchet's episodes…"
"Cliffjumper!" The medic kicked into the conversation, turning around to look at him in the eye. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
Getting the hint, the red bot nodded and walked out of the room, followed closely by Arcee. At the hallway, they greeted someone, receiving a series of beeps. "So the scout is at the base…" Fowler thought at the sound. Then, sighing, he turned to look at the leader, who was now helping his medic with the already mentioned calibrations of the ground-bridge; at the same time, Bulkhead was brushing up the last details at the structure. It looked like a family moving into a new apartment; they were only missing the boxes with the picture and the Chinese porcelain. "I'll never get used to this…" The agent thought, walking up to where Ratchet and Prime were standing. The former noticed immediately, shooting a glare towards the human; a silent warning ―'Stay away'. It kind of made Fowler flinch a little.
Fortunately for him, a loud crash was heard, and all heads turned towards the green bot… who seemed to have stepped into some sort of tool. The white and orange bot gasped.
"Bulkhead! I needed that!" He yelled, scolding his comrade while running to check the damage.
"Sorry, Ratch…" The warrior apologized, hoping it wasn't too important.
The human in the room held back a chuckle, before notice that Prime was, once again, handling the calibrations. Walking closer, the agent noticed that they adjusted the mainframe to work in their own language ―or so he thought, considering the weird symbols and hieroglyphs. The lines of coding passed in sequence, at an amazing speed; were they capable of reading so fast? Suddenly, the waterfall of symbols stopped, and the Autobots' logo appeared at the center of the screen, before different graphics popped up.
"Do you mind?" A gruff voice asked the man, who turned around almost immediately. Ratchet was behind him, once again; arms crossed in front of his chest, and his eyebrows frowned.
It took him a minute to understand that he was in his way: Fowler was standing in front of a panel that the medic was trying to repair. Apologizing, he moved and let the bot do his job.
"The system seems to be online. Now, all we need is to calibrate the scanners." Optimus informed.
"I will need a few days to finish the connections, now that I no longer have my precision welder." The older bot commented, dedicating a look to Bulkhead, who scratched his head in awkwardness, before walk out of the room. Then, he noticed the man who was watching the whole thing, not too far from his servos. "Still here?"
"I'm supposed to supervise you, and report whatever you do to my superiors." Fowler stated, frowning. His patience was running thin toward the medic.
"I don't believe that they would be interested in knowing how we rearranged the wiring of a, clearly, abandoned silo, as we try to make it a proper base." The medic snickered. "Besides, as Bulkhead commented, your job is to translate us your world, so we will be able to respect the limits imposed to us." He added, dedicating a brief moment to look at the human next to him.
If it wouldn't have been for Prime, asking the agent to give him his 'communication frequency' so they could stay in touch with each other, who knows how far would the argument have escalated. Fowler was growing really tired of the disrespect he was getting from the bots; and they seemed to be having similar feelings towards his person. Luckily for everyone, the leader noticed too, and stopped the fight before it happened.
Once his job was done, Fowler left the base.
What a long job this was going to be…
… … …
"I wasn't wrong…" He thought, approaching the silo, hopping for Optimus to be up already. After these past weeks, his superiors wanted explanations about what happened behind enemy lines; but, all he found out was the Autobots surrounding their leader, who still seemed a bit confused. The Decepticons' shield, at least, was wiped off his arms and replaced by his real faction's symbol.
"Prime." He called, stepping out of the elevator.
Unlike other times, in which the alluded bot politely asked him what he needed this time, as soon as the agent's voice reached his audio-receptors, Optimus let go a sigh. Then, he looked at the middle-age man with tired optics, and apologized: he couldn't remember the events that took place inside the Nemesis. Apparently, when Jack bestowed him with the security copy of the Matrix, his memories reached only until the point in which he lost consciousness at the Earth's core. From there, it was pure static, up until he found himself at the Decepticons' space-bridge. Whatever happened in between… he just couldn't remember.
"Amnesia?" Fowler wondered out loud, eyes on the medic.
"Most likely." The good doctor replied, before spare another glance towards his leader and good friend, who was, once again, trying to recall something, anything, from his days within Megatron's ranks. "Optimus, I fear that whatever happened must've gotten erased from your memory banks."
"Perhaps is for the better. I mean, I know I wouldn't want to remember a week like that one…" Arcee commented, trying to lift the spirits.
"Thank you, everyone, for your support. But I fear that I must keep trying, for I fear that, if Megatron allowed me to live within his warship, he might've taken advantage of my skills…" Optimus said, his head low in shame at the mere idea of have betrayed his friends, and his beliefs.
However, it made the middle-age man ask something that nobody saw coming:
"Why would Megatron want a librarian?"
And all the Autobots ended up looking up at him, blinking as if they didn't understand the question. After a minute or two, Bumblebee rose a digit, beeping something; and, since the agent couldn't understand his chirps, Bulkhead decided to translate:
"Yeah, Optimus was a data-clerk, not a 'librarian'." The Wrecker stated, an awkward, yet amused smile on his lips.
"Ok, I'm almost afraid to ask, but what's the difference?" Fowler inquired, massaging his temples.
"Clerks, like myself, were trained, not only in research for specific sources of information, but, also in decryption, Agent Fowler." Prime explained, patiently. "And, knowing that the Decepticons raided Iacon later in the war, I fear that during this week I might've given Megatron the tools to decipher all of the documents that were storage in said stronghold…" The sadness returned to his optics the moment he said it. The mere idea of have broke the Autobots' Cybertronian code, granting full access to the Decepticon army… It was too painful for him. Especially because he had no idea of what kind of information he just surrendered…
The governmental agent noticed the conflict inside the bot's mind, and, putting away his phone, he decided to let the report slip this time. He would have to debrief his superiors, of course… But it didn't have to be right away. So, pretending that he just came to check on the red and blue mech's status, he intended to leave.
Nonetheless, when suddenly the three warriors were reminded that they had to go and pick up the kids, and the team went back to their specific duties, Fowler couldn't help but walk up to Optimus. Now that they came to some sort of understanding between each other, and with all the memories that has been bugging him since the Prime lost his identity, perhaps, it was the right time to ask something that he didn't understood. Taking advantage of the leader now being left alone, the middle-age man approached, calling for him.
"What can I do for you, Agent Fowler?" The Cybertronian asked, clearly confused. He obviously thought that their liaison already left the building.
"I… I have a question for you, something that has been bothering me for a while now…" The agent admitted, a hand on the side of his hip, the other one behind his neck.
Optimus nodded to indicate him to keep going, full attention on the human now.
"All those years ago, when you just arrived to Earth, from the beginning, you never liked the other agents; but you always talked to me." He said, looking at the bot, whose optics widened remembering those times. "Why? For you… I was just another… 'fleshy', nobody special." He asked, shrugged in clear confusion at the memory of Optimus Prime talking to him, and only to him.
The tall mech somewhat smiled at the query, as he placed his hands on the side of his hip too, optics softening. Fowler's confusion simply grew. What? Was he the only one who didn't understand these bots reasons? As far as he could remember, a dozen people tried to stablish contact with the Autobots, but all attempts failed until he was brought.
"As I told you back then…" Optimus started, crossing his arms, a hint of amusement still lingering in his body language. "Those men treated us like criminals, or machines; either they were afraid of us, or they simply couldn't understand our inorganic nature. I can't really tell…" The Prime admitted, shaking his head a little and averting his optics at the thought. He could never come up with an answer, especially not after he met the children, who were everything but afraid of them. "But, out of all the humans who saw us back then, only one proved to recognize us as living beings; and treated us accordingly." He finished, focusing in Fowler's figure once again.
The agent cocked his head, wondering what he meant by that. That's when the red and blue mech admitted something: they saw him opening their shuttle's hatch for them, back when they crash landed. Essentially, he saved their lives… because he recognized them as living beings, despite of their looks. So they decided that, communicating with him, was the best bet for survival in this planet.
Fowler chuckled.
"To tell the truth, I never believed in aliens before. Until I met you, guys." The human admitted.
"'Alien' is a relative term." Ratchet snapped from his workstation, revealing that he was listening the whole time. "For us, you were the alien." Then, he looked at the governmental agent. "And you already know I dislike the term… Autobots, bots, or Cybertronians, please." He asked, before go back to his job. "We stopped calling you fleshy, so, naturally, we expect the same respect."
"Understood." Fowler said, rather comically, before wave his goodbyes to the Prime, and leave the base.
With all settled, Optimus and the medic prepared to receive the children, who came in and immediately started to ask the leader how he was feeling. Meanwhile, miles away from the silo, the Autobots' liaison was doing his job, informing the high command about the recent events… but leaving some things off the record. Besides, if the Big Guy couldn't remember, it wasn't like he had anything to write down on the report… Right?
Please let me know what you think!
I hope to see you around! Bye!