iTransformers

Chapter Three: Attacker

"I can't believe you!" Spencer yelled, glaring down at his sister, who was seated on the couch. "You snuck out in the middle of the night to drive a car! What could possibly possess you to do something so stupid?"

"I don't know," Carly replied, looking down at the floor, her voice laced with regret.

"You could have told me you were going out," Spencer continued. "I would've been fine with it...I though we were close enough to talk to each other. I have custody over you...I'm responsible for you...If you had gotten hurt..."

"I'm sorry!" Carly yelled, tears forming in her eyes. "I was upset. I didn't know what to do."

"So you went out and drove without telling me?" Spencer replied, his anger increasing. "The worst thing you could do when you're upset is dive! Especially at night!...Would you have even told me if I didn't come home to an empty house last night?"

"I don't know," Carly snarled. The teen dropped her head, letting her hair block her face. Tears began to fall from the girl's eyes, and her voice began trembling. "I don't know."

His sister's sorrow cutting through his anger and disappointment, Spencer knelt on the floor, and wrapped his arms Carly. "It's okay," he said, letting out a sigh. "...Just...don't do it again, okay?"

"Okay," Carly replied, her voice muffled in Spencer's shoulder. "I'm really sorry."

Later that day, the sun was covered with a thick layer of gray clouds. A gentle mist poured onto the ground, and the air was bone-chillingly cool. Carly sat on her bed, typing on her computer: posting a picture of Daniel's glasses and a description of their value on Sam's eBay page. "Please do well," she whispered to herself.

That night, an army base located near Iraq was prepared for to return twenty soldiers to their homes. A small party was held for those who were being discharged. Those who were only on leave had their minds focused on returning to their homes: Alan Witwicky, a thirty year-old soldier of ten years was thinking about his young brother, Mark, who was currently attending high school back in Denver. The two had kept in close contact, but nothing could take the place of looking at the boy's warm, loving face in person. Ever since Alan and Mark's father died, the older brother served as a father figure for the young boy. Leaving for the army was a tough choice to make, but Alan knew Mark and their mother, Catherine, would be alright without him.

Captain Samuel Baldwin, a fifty year-old soldier of twenty five years was looking forward to seeing his wife, Sarah again, leaving his good friend, Captain James Russo to take his place. Sarah had never been like the stereotypical "girl back home" for the soldier, but she was, at times, all that kept Samuel going. The greatest example of his devotion to his beloved wife was the time he was wounded in battle, suffering from a severely broken leg, heat frustration, and a gunshot to the right shoulder. Being left to die in the desert, Samuel considered closing his eyes, and letting death consume him, body and soul. However, Sarah always told him, "If you give up on yourself, you're giving up on me...Stay on your feet, soldier", and the man was not about to let her down now. After about two hours, an American helicopter arrived, and he was given the help he needed. Years later, Samuel was ready to adjust to normal life again.

"You ready to see your family again?" Ron Lennox asked Alan. Ron was twenty two, and had been in the army for roughly two years. Others often mocked the man for both his young age, and the lack of adventure he had experienced. Despite the mockery, Ron refused to give up his career in the armed forces. Tragically, the twenty two year-old had no family of his own to go home to: his mother, an abusive alcoholic, abandoned the family when Ron was four, leaving only him and his father, who passed away four years ago.

"You know it," Alan replied, his voice up-beat as usual. "It's been too long."

Following the party, the soldiers saw off their friends on their way to the helicopters that would take them home. The night's air was cold and crisp, and the light of the full moon shined down on the entire area. One of the four copters sitting on the landing patch began to spin its top propellers. Immediately, the soldiers boarded their rides home.

"Did we authorize that fourth copter?" Captain James asked another soldier.

Suddenly, a loud, mechanical noise began to emanate from the unmanned helicopter. Its exterior began to writhe, its metal parts grinding together and shooting sparks into the air. Finally, the vehicle formed a horrific mechanical being, clad in black armor. Dangling from the creature's back were the propeller blades, which now pointed downward, forming what looked like a fly's folded wings. Two black hellfire missiles extruded from behind the abomination's neck. Its feet were divided into three rounded, pointed claws, and its hands were composed of highly-textured palms and four clawed fingers. The red eyes in the center of the monster's bestial face glowed in the night as it threw its metal claws into the air and let out an electronically amplified roar.

"Everyone out of the helicopters!" James screamed, filled with terror. "Take cover!"

The monster snarled, and fired the missiles from its back into the copter that held Captain Baldwin and Alan Witwicky. Fire erupted from the vehicle, engulfing every soldier inside of it.

"No!" Ron screamed, watching his friend's flesh catch fire and burn, his body writhing, and hearing his agonized screams echoing through the night. This was not how a soldier was supposed to die: a soldier was supposed to die on the battlefield, having won their own personal victory. Their last words being "Tell my family I love them." Not like this; no closure, no glory. Only suffering.

The embers that were once Captain Baldwin flew into the air, then faded into nothingness. For a moment, time seemed to slow. Every man and woman fled for their lives, not knowing what this horror was that slaughtered their allies. Ron pulled out the handgun in his holder, and began to assault the beast.

His bullets not seeming to even phase the creature, Ron felt Captain James's arm tightly grab his shoulder. "Stand down, son," he ordered. The two then ran for cover, leaving the mechanical nightmare to ravage everything in its path.

Come the next morning, the sun rose above Seattle. The sky was painted a hopeful orange and red, shining around the tall buildings. Carly awoke, and pulled off her covers. Still weary and groggy, the girl stretched, and walked into her bathroom. After taking a shower, the teen returned to her bedroom, clad in her aqua-colored bathrobe, and looked out the window to see her car glistening in the early morning's sunlight.

"Hey, Carls" Sam called from outside the door. "Are you dressed?"

"No," Carly replied. "I'll be ready in a minute."

Once the teenager got dressed, she opened the door, and Sam came inside. "Hey," said the blond. "You're selling your great grandpa's glasses?"

"Yeah," answered Carly, her voice reflecting her regret. "I have to help Spencer pay for my car. I feel guilty."

"You know, you're the only one who could turn a free car into a death sentence," Sam replied. "Why can't you just accept the car and move on?"

"...I don't know," Carly answered, growing stressed out. "...I can't just let Spencer take the responsibility for this. Dad trusted me to use the money responsibly, and I go way over the limit."

"If Spencer didn't want to help pay, he wouldn't," Sam argued. "Do you really think selling these glasses are a good idea, anyway?"

Carly sat down on her bed, "I guess not," she replied. "...But what do I do about the rest of the money?"

"We'll figure something out," Sam answered, putting her arm on Carly's shoulder. "We always do."

The brunette smiled at her friend. "Thanks, Sam," she said, relieved. "...I'd better take those glasses off eBay before people start bidding."

That night, in the outskirts of town, a police officer watched the computer sitting on his dashboard: a saved image of the glasses glowed with digital light. "SchneiderBabe24..." said the officer, his voice gruff. "RatBat, find this human." The man pointed at a picture of Sam on her eBay page.

A small metallic rat entirely painted black nodded, and muttered something in a foreign language that translated to "Order recieved." The animal stealthfully scurried out of the car, snuck around the others standing by the police cars, then crawled behind a building. Its body writhing, the black rat transformed into a purple, metal vampire bat, and flew into the night, the image of Sam frozen in its artificial mind. A high-pitched screach sounded from the bat's mouth as it soared through the darkness.