Author's Note: Hi guys! So here's an update for you all and I think this is the longest- or at least one of them- that I have not updated. I just wanted to warn you guys that their are some things in this that I am unsure about, but I figured I might as well update.

Hope you all enjoy and please drop me a review! But, just so you all know, constructive criticism is welcome- and appreciated- but flamers will be used to feed the Dinobots!

Oh, and thank you to the Guest reviewer for the lovely feedback- and everyone else- your words like made my day!

Disclaimer: *checks nonexistent bank account* nope I couldn't own Transformers or anything else you might recognize if I wanted to.

Chapter 7

The drive through the neighborhood to reach the main highway was uneventful. So much so that I kept nodding off. But each time we'd hit a bump or the truck would jolt and I would sit up straight and try to stay awake.

But after the fifth time, I was getting frustrated and the silence was threatening to suffocate me- even I can only stand so much of it, why do you think I play music all the time- so I decided to do something about it.

"Why were you so close to the house?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He doesn't answer for a moment, then when he does it's perfectly neutral, almost as if not the whole truth. "I have a friend that doesn't live to far away from you, you might know him, Sam Witwicky?"

My heart speeds up at that /very/ familiar name. But I don't allow my sudden feelings to show by keeping my face neutral. I reply "I know him from school."

Will nods, then more states then asks "so you know his girlfriend then."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at that. The most popular girl in school and- as of a few months ago- Sam Witwicky's girlfriend. I know /her/ alright, in fact everyone in Tranquility High does. And she is nice and everything but I just /cannot/ stand who she hangs out with. Her former boyfriend Trent Demarco, the jock of all jocks, and his fellow dirt bag friends. They're the reason I'm called emo- among other things- and fill in the gaps of torturing me while uncle can't.

Snapping my eyes back open, I nod with an almost bitter- but I just manage to keep it nonchalant- "yeah, I know her."

Memories occupy my mind unbidden about what Trent and his friends have done to me all through High School and the same near awkward silence falls between us again. Only this time I am to preoccupied to notice.

Until Will inquires, snapping me out of my daze "you know that you're going to have to go through a bunch of procedures and paperwork before you join, right?"

I look at him like he's stupid. Of course I know that!

But he only smirks slightly and continues with a shrug "just thought I'd say it. But I really need to know if you're aware of the commitment and trust it takes to join. /You/ have to be sure /your/ willing to join." He says seriously.

Straightening unconsciously at his tone, I take a moment to consider his words, trying to pick apart their full meaning.

Do I really /want/ to do this? I mean I wasn't the one who actually /chose/ to join, uncle made me. But what else do I have to live for? My parents are dead, I have no family,- uncle does /not/ count- or really anyone to turn to. But if I join and they learn of my actual age somehow then the consequences will be severe. Though, like I said I don't have anything to live for if they do decide to terminate me if they find out. And I highly doubt that I'm going to live if I join up, but it will allow me to do what I never had the guts to pull off. To join my family. And maybe I could be of some use to them- if even for a short while. I mean I have some training in martial arts and I know how to use a gun.

When my papaw was... around he would take me with him hunting, so I know how to shoot a gun and a bow. Though I am a little rusty...

With this in mind I give him a firm nod and state "yes, I am willing to aid this country in the fights against the greatest or the worst of foes no matter the consequences." Woah, where did that come from?

Will must feel the same way... or think I'm crazy. 'Cause he gives me a weird look that I cannot read. But either way he was not expecting that.

We both direct our attention back to the traffic ahead of us for the next five minutes or so, until Will suddenly breaks the silence, his voice seeming to echo through the cab of the truck.

"What do you know about Mission City?" He asks.

My head jerks back at that random question and I frown as I answer. "I don't really... keep up with the news. So... nothing really, sorry." It's not a complete lie, just not the whole truth. I pretty much /never/ watch the news, or really anything else.

Will gives me a nod and falls silent again, prompting my frown to grow.

Expecting him to continue after he gathers his thoughts, I glance out the mirror beside of me, and- being as restless as usual- unconsciously begin to rub over the button that rolls down the window and across the leather door interior.

I don't even notice until I swear that I feel the truck shiver.

I stop until I feel a sense of disappointment and I start up again. This time by rubbing my fingers in soothing circles.

The drive to Hoover Dam continues on like this. With me massaging the passenger side door and alternating methods every so often.

Will still hadn't said anything and I figure he's not going to until we arrive.

And my thoughts kept wandering to different little things- they always do whenever I have nothing else to do. Am I going to be excepted into the military- this is just an interview pretty much anyways. What would uncle do if they don't except me? Am I going to have to go back to school eventually- I really hope not. Am I going to have to start wearing camouflage all the time?

Okay, maybe I should have chugged a bottle or two of Mountain Dew to help wake myself up.

Two sure ways to get me up in the morning- usually- are by either shoving a Mountain Dew in my face or turning on some music. (Yes, I listen to music when I go to sleep and to wake me up and I am aware of how weird that is.) Right now I could really go for some Metallica or Ozzy Osbourne.

As if someone hears my thoughts the radio kicks on to Rock105 and the song- one of my personal favorites- Crazy Train fills the cab. And for the second time in less than two days I feel the corner of my lip want to quirk up in a smile. I definitely massage my door more thoroughly after that.

A little while later I finally see our destination and I have to admit I am a little excited and nervous. Excited that I get to see the Hoover Dam- since the biggest place I have been to is probably the Court House. And nervous of what is to come.

But then as we're as close as you can get in a vehicle, Will takes a road leading to the back of the building.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion but I don't comment as we drive passed a set of metal gates that two men in army uniforms yielding twin M16-A4's are standing in front of. And I absentmindedly straighten in my seat as they admit us through.

The gravel road that we trek down leads us to four garage-like doors. Will pulls up to the first one, then drives through once it opens. I /almost/ gawk at what I find.

He pulls into what looks like a huge hanger- the ceiling has to be over thirty feet tall- with people, technology and a few platforms with slender metal steps running up both sides.

Holy cow this is incredible!

Will is flagged over by the entrance- exit, whatever you want to call it- and is quick to comply.

Once stopped, he turns the engine off and- leaving the keys- opens his door to hop out.

And yet I hesitate for a moment. If I step out that door my whole life is going to change. (Well, if I make it that far that is.) /It's not like you have anything to lose./ I remind myself mentally.

With a shaky exhale of breath I grab my backpack- which sat in between my feet the whole time- and open the door. Which is when I forget about the four foot drop and nearly face plant. And I would have if not for the strong arms that catch me.

I lift my head off the chest I fell against during my tumble- deja vu- to look up at the smiling face of my savor.

My savor being an African American man, who has bigger muscles than Lennox- still not as big as Hide- wearing a kind smile, and a uniform like Lennox.

I manage to right myself and pull away from him- all the while with an embarrassed blush on my face. Staring up at him sheepishly, I apologize "sorry, sir."

His smile widens and he snorts "don't start that formal stuff on me. I'm Epps."

Sighing mentally in relief, I give him a small nod and say "my name's Katlyn."

He nods back and opens his mouth to reply, but Lennox comes over.

Clasping Epps' shoulder, Lennox cuts in, seemingly without knowing about what happened "I see you've met Katlyn, she's wanting to join up."

Epps seems surprised at this as he glances at Lennox, then looks back at me to rack his gaze up and down my form- seriously people that trips me out!

Once finished studying me, he meets me eye to eye and asks "how old are you anyways, kid?"

I almost glare at him for saying that, but I rein in my short temper and answer, forcing myself to appear nonchalant "eighteen."

By now it has become a habit to say my fake age and it has worked with everyone I have told so far- even though it hasn't been a whole lot of people. But, with Epps' gaze seemingly trying to peer into my soul I am unsure if my lucky- that is hilarious- streak will last.

Though, after a minute his smile from earlier returns and all seriousness leaks out of the stiffness in both of our bodies.

Then, Lennox speaks up and I become stiff again "before we can allow you to go any farther you have to be scanned for anything you could possibly use against anyone here." He says as if rehearsed.

I know he feels bad for saying that. And I know he doesn't have a choice in this since it's for security's sake- not that he should trust me yet since we barely know each other- but I cannot help but feel almost... hurt by his words.

Not allowing my feelings about his words to show, I nod and follow him over to where several people with scanners are waiting.