Chapter One
"Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing." - Optimus Prime
Matt Pennington knew it was going to rain.
The sun was viciously beating down on the New York City asphalt, making it nearly unbearable to stand out in the street for more than a few seconds. Amid a bright blue sky, clouds were already popping up and growing. If Matt was a storm chaser, then he wouldn't mind sitting outside all day waiting for the rain to come.
If he was a storm chaser.
Matt had admired the weather since the day he was born in Oklahoma City. During the summer, nasty thunderstorms raged through the city, bringing surprises like hail and heavy winds that kept him glued to his house window. Fierce tornadoes lured him outside during his adolescent years with a video camera, and the occasional tropical storm prompted Matt to sit out in the garage, enjoying the wind and rain.
His parents, however, were not so keen to follow his interests. Luke Pennington, his father, was a security guard at the University of Oklahoma. Matt was not interested in his father's occupation, even when the burly man marched over the threshold of their front door with a few confiscated weapons he had managed to smuggle past his boss.
His mother stayed at home, cooking amazing meals and cleaning the house. She didn't mind his interest in weather, but she thought Matt took it too far by trying to get as close to storms as he could. She acted as if he was an immature child, but she was secretly worried for her son.
At the end of Matt's senior year at the University of Oklahoma, the new graduate walked into his home, announcing loudly that he was going to work at the National Weather Service. His mother embraced him, excited that he was pursuing his dreams. His father, however, had enough.
That evening, he and his father flew into the Big Apple. Matt had the impression it was a graduation trip. But the next day, any thoughts of a fun-filled trip were thrown out the window when he went to the New York Stock Exchange.
"Son," he father said proudly, glancing back and forth between a giant American flag and Matt, "You have been hired to work at the exchange as a security guard." Matt's heart sunk farther at that instant than any other time in his life.
He protested. He begged. He even cried to his father, begging him to let him return to Oklahoma, but it was all in vain. A waving hand out of a bright yellow taxi was the last time he saw his father.
Ten years later, Matt was drenched in his own sweat under a sweltering New York sun. But he had gotten used to it. After ten summers of being a security guard in New York City, he was used to all of the side effects of standing outside in downtown New York during the summer.
"You know," Matt began to say, glancing over at his partner, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually liking this job."
Jacob Loudon laughed. He had been Matt's supervisor during the first year he was a security guard, and then became his partner for the rest of Matt's career.
"What on earth makes you say that?" Jacob snickered, ushering a few traders into the building behind them.
"I don't know," Matt said, leaning onto a pole. "I guess New York gave me a change of heart." Jacob laughed again.
"Unbelievable," his partner chuckled. "After fifteen years on the job, I'm actually eager to quit and find a better job." Matt smircked. He had the impression Jacob didn't enjoy being a security guard since the day he met the man.
A swarm of traders came up to the security checkpoint, and after Matt questioned one about a suspicious bulge in the pants that turned out to be a badly placed Blackberry, they were gone. He peered down the street, looking for more traders, when he saw a small, young man wearing a security uniform.
"Um, Jacob?" His partner looked up from a discarded newspaper laying at his feet.
"Who is that?" Both pairs of eyes looked down the street to the guard, who was now strolling confidently down the street.
"Uh-oh," Jacob groaned, quickly refocusing on the newspaper. "New guy." Matt raised his eyebrows, confused.
"What's so bad about a new guy?"
"Every new guy has this personality quirk that makes him the most annoying person on Earth. The last new guy I had to work with loved to tap dance during his spare time. Ugh, and he had no style."
Matt grinned. He could easily picture Jacob doing everything in his power to look like he did not work with the tap dancing lunatic.
"What's up?" All thoughts of Jacob and the tap dancer vanished as Matt turned and rested his eyes on the man that stood before him now. He was well built, and about 6 feet tall. He looked like an ordinary person, except for a huge mustache that covered his entire mouth.
"How's it going?" Matt and Jacob both muttered. Matt was gazing curiously at the new guard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jacob staring intensely at an ad for a used car.
"What's your name?" Jacob asked after an awkward silence.
"Charles," the new guy replied. Matt reeled back in surprise. For a minute, he could have sworn the mustache was the one speaking.
"Well, Charles," Matt replied, still transfixed on the mustache. "You know what to do. Get to work." Charles gave them both a salute and quickly began ushering traders into the exchange. By nine that morning, Charles' work had impressed Matt and earned a reluctant "good job" from Jacob.
"This guy actually doesn't seem too bad," Matt observed. Charles was searching a trader who had set off the metal detector. Jacob briefly looked up at the new recruit.
"You just wait," he replied. "He'll be annoying you before you know it."
Jacob's prediction came true a half-hour later. Matt had picked up a copy of the New York Times and was flipping through it. Jacob was relaxing under an umbrella he had somehow confiscated from a broker.
"Two-thousand Ford Explorer, celery green." Matt looked up from his newspaper into the street, where a car of that description slowly drove by.
"So this is what you do during break," Jacob said, glancing towards Charles. "You analyze cars." Charles nodded, still looking at the traffic on Wall Street.
"New York City Taxi, Code G-Seven-G-Eight, Cash Cab Taxi." Matt groaned, and then looked over to Jacob, whose face was contorted with rage. His hands were visibly shaking, and Matt almost thought he saw the right hand reaching for a pistol. Stifling a laugh, Matt returned to the newspaper.
"Chevrolet Camaro, 2006 model, bright yellow with black stripes." Matt looked back up from the paper again, but this time looking for the car. Sure enough, a sleek yellow car passed the exchange. As it rounded the corner, several passerby gazed at the vehicle in awe.
"You don't see that type of car here everyday," Jacob observed, whose fury was somewhat smothered by his interest in the car. "He's just asking for that thing to get stolen." Matt nodded in agreement. Driving a Camaro around New York City was the equivalent of leaving an expensive piece of jewelry out in an unlocked house at night.
No one spoke for about an hour except for Jacob, who muttered something about not getting paid enough. Matt had put down the newspaper, still looking at the corner where the Camaro had turned. He felt uneasy about the car, and had a small urge to go look for it.
"Hey!" Charles exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Looks like Mister Camaro decided to make a return trip!" Matt jumped out of his chair, looking down Wall Street. Sure enough, the exact same Camaro was cruising down the street, at a much slower pace.
"Why is he driving so slow?" Charles asked. Matt shrugged his shoulders, looking for the driver of the car. The windshield was so dark, however, that he couldn't see a face.
"A more important question would be, why has the car stopped?" Jacob replied, now looking curiously at the car. It had indeed parked in front of them, with the engine still running. Charles began to reply, but a loud burst of music interrupted him. Jacob fell out of his chair in shock, got back up, and began walking towards the car.
"Hey! HEY! TURN OFF THE MUSIC RIGHT NOW!" After a few seconds, the music stopped. Matt got up and ran towards the driver's seat. He reached for the door handle, yanked open the door, and confronted an empty seat.
An eerie feeling swept through Matt's body. He knew something was different about this car. But something told him the fact that there was no driver wasn't what made it different. He peered into the back of the car and saw a suitcase.
"What's in there?" Charles asked, who was having a hard time seeing into the car. He finally opened the passenger door, and saw the suitcase. A look of fear came across his face, and before Jacob and Matt could stop him, he was running into the stock exchange.
"Charles," Matt yelled. "CHARLES!" There was no stopping him. The new guard disappeared behind the glass doors of the building.
"Call a Code Red," Matt ordered Jacob, who had just seen the luggage. "We have a possible bomb threat."
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Author Note Added 6-26-09: Woot! First chapter done! This is my first fan-fic ever, so I apologize if the first chapter is not all that great. Please read and review. I am desperate for reviews, so I know how I am doing on this story. Enjoy the next chapter!