Ignition

Ok, well this is a very long chapter (not my longest but still long) and I hope people will forgive any alterations I make to character history and so on. There's not a lot that I'd consider major changes, but I have probably messed substantially with canon… which considering that any Fanfiction must to some degree violate canon, isn't so bad :)

Thank you to all the people who reviewed – you're all an inspiration. I'd get more personal with these thank you's but I've spent SOOOO long on this chapter that I really just want to post it so I can stop the screaming readers who're threatening to hunt me down.

Also, there's a few twists and turns in this chapter so I hope everyone can follow it clearly enough.

Once again thank you to Dania for her Beta'ing work… I know you only ended up getting to read about a quarter of the chapter in the end but I hope you'll like the rest of it!

Bon Appetite!

Chapter 7

As far as her memory recalled, Judy couldn't recollect a time when she'd ever really feared the dark. She'd never been one of those children that cowered under the sheets or needed a nightlight to scare away the imagined terrors of the unknown. Growing up she had always viewed the night as a friend, someone who brought relaxation and sweet dreams of princesses and faraway places that children never thought to see.

She knew it was childish, pathetic really, now that she was middle aged with a child of her own, that this fear would suddenly surface. She could remember chiding Sam herself for that very same thing. Never having experienced it, she had suffered great distress when at the tender age of five she had removed the old pooh nightlight from Sam's room only to find that her son had shivered with fear every evening at the mere thought of his darkened bedroom, incapacitated by an almost paralysing fear of monsters. In spite of all her reassurances there had eventually been no other option than to put the light back in, where it would remain for almost another six full years until Sam had finally removed it himself claiming that its glow kept him awake. She still had the nightlight, afraid to throw it out after her son had spent so many years desperately needing its company. She wished she had it with her now.

She didn't think she'd ever experienced darkness quite like the one completely enshrouding her. Since she had been carelessly thrown into this abyss Judy hadn't been able to stop shivering at the complete and utter blackness of her prison. It was pervasive in its totality, smothering the world around her more thoroughly than even closed eyelids could manage. No welcoming slivers of light were present to relieve the pressure of her imprisonment and she felt as if it stretched off into the distance around her as though she floated at the edge of the universe itself, unending and impenetrable.

Without the rough, catching surface of the glacially cold concrete that pressed against her back, Judy thought she might have given in to the sense of horrifying vertigo. The sense of spinning in an eternity of nothingness was nearly enough for her to give in to the desperate urge to scream, to prove to herself that she still really existed. Thankfully she had managed to hold her terror in check so far, unwilling to give her captors the satisfaction of knowing exactly how their efforts were succeeding, and beneath that, a genuine fear that just like in barely remembered nightmares, she would open her mouth and nothing would come out.

The cell she was in was small; she'd caught a fleeting glimpse as she'd been roughly dropped in. Tentative touches, spastic jerking movements of someone just blinded, had guided her around the confined box, the rough surface unbroken except for the porcelain of the toilet, a small comfort that she had been almost insanely grateful for when lunch had revisited her within minutes of the door slamming closed behind her. She couldn't remember which side the door was on, there were no betraying fragments of light or even faint seam in the wall to indicate its presence, but she was reluctant to completely define the boundaries of her underground prison, lest claustrophobia only add to her panic.

There was no indication of how much time had passed, how many days she'd been left there to wait helplessly alone in the dark. She slept and woke according to her body's exhaustion, sleeping in fitful bursts when not even the terror could keep her eyes open anymore. Periodically a small slot on the door opened and a cup of soup and small loaf of bread was slipped in, but from what she could tell the interval was random and gave her no clue as to the length of her confinement. In the beginning Judy had waited tensely for them to come for her, to take her somewhere to be questioned or perhaps drop some clue, some crumb that hinted at their identity and what they could have wanted from a middle aged couple.

She'd tensed every time the panel had squeaked, tasting the metallic tang of adrenaline on her tongue as she waited for the rush of bodies and the grasping hands, but so far her prediction had not come to pass. In truth, she no longer believed that it would. They had no questions for her, no truths they cared to impart. She didn't know whether the revelation had taken days, or maybe it had even been weeks now, but she thought she knew why she was here, alone and waiting in this eternal night. The thought relieved her and sickened her at the same time.

They wanted someone else.

Not just anyone though, someone who had something they wanted, someone who would come to her aid. Sam. Her baby, her son, her legacy. They knew about the alien machines and maybe even about Sam's involvement with them, whatever exactly that was. Obviously, they were willing to do anything to get at them. She unconsciously ran a hand over her other palm, feeling the now dried liquid flaking away and shivered.

"Run Judy!"

The memory was like a flash of colour and light in her mind, whiting out the black of her cell with a vibrancy that was beyond anything in real life; as though her mind was trying to remember what colour looked like and was getting everything just a little bit wrong. The sunlight streaming into the dining room was brighter than she was sure it had been, the oaken timber of the table a richer and deeper tone than naturally possible. The urgency in Ron's voice however was burnt into her mind so firmly that she doubted anything could possibly make her forget it. The bottle of cleaning liquid slid from suddenly panicked fingers as she'd dropped the cloth she'd been using on the silverware and shot through the kitchen toward that cry. The crash of splintering wood was followed by the front door slamming into the gyprock of the wall, the handle burying itself in the plaster. Unexpected brilliance had surged in through the open doorway, momentarily blinding her and anonymous arms had latched firmly onto her waist. She'd struggled to free herself from them, not so much truly fearful at that stage, more simply from the shock of being grabbed. She'd kicked and yelled, feet and arms flailing wildly against whoever had hold of her until a thud had caused them to release and she'd seen Ron desperately pulling her captor away.

"Run Judy!"

The cry was as desperate as the last one and she'd looked up into his eyes, seeing a comprehension of something in them that she knew was missing from her own. He tried to hurl her assailant out the broken front door, leaning his weight against the splintered timber in an effort to close it at the same time. Her legs seemed frozen now that she was free, but she couldn't make any twitch of movement to obey his request. Almost as if watching some scene on television, Judy stared as more men in black charged up the front stairs towards where Ron struggled against the first intruder. Silent and shocked, she watched as a fist caught him on the side of the face, hurling him backwards in slow motion from the narrow entry as the door once more slammed into the wall. One of their assailants fell back slightly from the others and reached a meaty hand inside his jacket. She'd watched as the hand had come back out clutched firmly yet calmly around the black handle of a pistol, a sausage-like finger squeezed around the trigger as unfriendly eyes had stared unwavering in their intent.

The thundering discharge echoed in the narrow corridor around them, and for a brief instant, time, for all its inevitability, had seemed to freeze obligingly just for her. It was a moment, perfectly captured in ghastly detail as her husband stood braced, wide eyed and unmoving against the wall just a couple of feet away. In the once pristine passage, their attackers clustered around the doorway, frozen in mid step where they crossed the threshold as a slow grey curl of smoke twisted in the breeze at the end of the glistening black weapon.

Judy thought the sound had lingered for quite a while, reverberating against her again and again. Looking back, it seemed as though it may simply have been in her mind. When it had finally vanished altogether, all she'd been able to hear was her own harsh panting for several seconds, the smell of an acrid smoke tainting each breath. She'd looked up to meet her husband's eyes, his forehead wrinkled slightly with the same puzzled look he'd often get whilst trying to solve a particularly difficult crossword. Ron had opened his mouth slowly, as though about to ask her what had happened, but the only sound to emerge had been a broken cough, a harsh, rattling exhalation that to her ears had seemed just as loud as the gunshot only moments before.

Judy hadn't understood right then exactly what had happened, not until she noticed the maroon shirt turn an even darker shade and seen the slight spots of blood that flecked across Ron's lips. She'd felt her throat constrict and a cry escape her, though she didn't remember hearing the sound, her hands grabbing the bloody grip her husband extended towards her before he stumbled and slipped to the side. It was one quick clasp, the promise of forever on their wedding day, a passionate grip on lustful nights, a gesture of support as she laboured to bring their son into the world, her husband's hand. All that, she felt in the brief second where their palms connected, and then the blood slick hand pulled away from her seeking one and clumsily sought the wall for support. A vivid, scarlet trail marred the antique floral wallpaper like an arrow predicting his destination. Judy could still hear the crash of the breaking mirror on the sideboard, a tenth anniversary gift, as it toppled over under Ron's unexpected collision, the glass glittering in the air in slow motion before settling to the ground in a thousand spinning and coruscating pieces.

She'd tried to get to him, tried to recapture the hand that had slid from hers, but unyielding arms had once again seized around her waist and yanked her toward the front door. She'd screamed and wailed, calling for help from neighbours or anyone who could listen, but she didn't remember any actual sound, her life and the world suddenly put on mute, silent and awaiting judgement. She'd struck the men uselessly, trying to grasp anything that could help her, bloody handprints smearing the jacket hanging on the shattered sideboard and the black suits around her, but the arms pulled her with implacable force. She'd seen the helpless look in Ron's eyes, watched him try to reach toward her, watched as he seemed to sag a little more in on himself. She'd caught the message though, that final desperate glimpse before the wall of men had separated them from each other.

Fight them, Judy. Don't give them what they want.

Then she'd been outside, as the man with the gun swapped it silently for a mobile phone and placed it to his ear. The hot sun burnt down on her as she was harshly shoved into the back of a black cargo van, the interior stifling and oppressive in the heat. There was one small prick, an insect's kiss, barely felt amidst the harsh hand grips, then the fluid flowed through the sterile needle and everything slowly became hazy, allowing her a few brief moments of pain and panic free darkness before her true punishment would begin.

Her palm felt raw where she'd been scrubbing at it, her fingers running over and over the same spot while she remembered those last frantic minutes at her house. When she'd come too she'd been stumbling down a dimly lit corridor, supported between two of the men, her body seemingly deaf to her own mind as she was dragged meekly to her fate. They hadn't said a word to her in the brief minutes they'd had her, not even a sound as they'd opened the heavy iron door. They'd calmly and coolly dropped her unceremoniously in the dark room that was to be her new home and then sealed it up tight behind them.

When she'd finally mustered enough control over her faculties to stand up and move around, she had screamed to know what had happened to her husband. No answer was forthcoming however and no explanation was or would be offered. When she'd finally realised that there would be no response to her demands and no torturous interrogation, she had truly understood exactly what Ron had feared. He'd known, perhaps not completely, but he'd suspected, that what was happening was related to Sam. They weren't blind. They had both seen the expression on their son's face when they'd walked in on him in the hospital room, and they'd known by the way they both rushed off that someone or something was after them. Neither she nor Ron had actually known what had happened between Sam and the alien robot that seemed to have adopted him, but they had seen in that instant that nothing would stop it.

And so she had let her baby go.

She had thought it was over once the two of them had gone. She had thought that whoever was after them would follow. The thought had kept her up at nights as she wondered where they had gone and why, but she had seen the absolute devotion the machine had shown in just those few brief caresses, and she had understood without a doubt that Sam's protection was much greater with the robot than without. She'd never imagined that her son's protection wasn't the only thing she had to worry about. Evidently her husband had though.

Ron had always been the type to look at the bigger picture, always look past the fence to what was on the other side. It was his attention to detail that had held them together through some of their rough patches. He had never forgotten an anniversary or birthday, he had never failed to plan something romantic or special for them when he could tell she was feeling down. He had always shown the same care and devotion to his life as he did to the garden that he prized so much. Ron looked at everything, always. And he had obviously seen something that she had not.

The chill seemed to settle in further around her and she pulled her legs up to her chest in an effort to keep warm. She guessed that somewhere her captors were observing her, watching to make sure she didn't attempt escape or maybe even recording her to use as blackmail or hostage material. She knew she must look like a frightened child, curled up against the wall, but at the moment she really didn't care. Ron had told her to fight, to deny them whatever it was they wanted, but when all they wanted was her, there was little she could do to stop them. For all she knew Sam was already here somewhere, locked up like she was while these men did horrible and painful experiments on him and his robot.

Warm tears leaked slowly from the corners of her eyes and she harshly rubbed them away. Huddling up for warmth was one thing, breaking down and sobbing in front of the bastards was entirely another. She leaned her head back against the stone and narrowed her eyes at the darkness, as though it was a physical presence she could somehow intimidate. They may have taken almost everything from her, and there was nothing she could do about that anymore, but she wasn't going to give them her son as well. She closed her eyes briefly and sent a silent prayer to any god who was listening to keep her baby boy safe.

Don't come for me, Sam. Whatever you do, don't give them what they want.

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"Mum!"

Bonded!

The squeal of tyres shattered the stillness of the slowly lightening vista, Bumblebee's harsh mental shriek vibrating Sam's skull as his own cry vibrated the air inside the cabin. He unconsciously reached out and arched up from the seat, desperate to grab on to the horrifying vision that still assailed his senses and pluck his mother from it. With a flash of movement a million small belts and webs flew out of the interior around him to arrest his panicked motion. They moved with a swiftness that almost made them invisible to his eyes, but were still unbelievably gentle as they twisted and twined around him, securing him firmly down to the chair, cushioned softer than any lover's embrace.

He felt the swaying of their slightly erratic course, sensing the smoothness of the road turn to the roughness of loose gravel as B left the highway and lurched drunkenly onto the shoulder. His breathing was loud in his ears, louder even than the noise of their final jerking stop, and his hands, strapped tightly to the edge of the chair, clenched against the leather as he hyperventilated in the climate controlled air. The bond whip-lashed wildly through him, as though it were a garden hose that someone had let go of, coiling and striking at random until all coherency and meaning was lost. He could feel something else there in the connection, a third presence, not intelligent or even really alive, but somehow there, and it had torn their joining asunder. He sensed B trying to control it, to sever this thing that was coming between them, like trying to untangle bundled up Christmas tree lights and weave a blanket at the same time. He reached out for his bond mate even through the chaos, trying to stop the wildly surging energy, watching through the windshield as the clouds of dust swirled in frenzy through the harsh beam of the headlights, almost in sympathy with their struggle. Like blood through a fatal wound however, he could still feel the bond slipping away from his grasp. There was a final pull from his bond mate, a final frantic, desperate tug that carried all the need and fear that the loss of their joining evoked, and with an almost physical snap he felt the connection sever. Power, uncontrolled and targetless pulsed back against him like a guitar string stretched and then cut, and in an instant everything shut off.

He couldn't move his head or limbs, but his eyes flew about in a panic, wildly oscillating back and forth across the darkened dash, his heavy breaths still eliminating any chance of hearing a sound from the engine. Scattered memories of the vision welled up before him, darkness and silence so absolute that light was not only unknown, but unremembered, and added to the seemingly gaping emptiness that now overflowed from within him. Around him the webs remained in place, a cradle of protection that seemed to try and shelter him from the demons set loose in his head, a task they couldn't possibly perform but one they attempted anyway. The only light came from the faint glow that was slowly brightening the horizon, a sign of the day to come as the stars began to fade in preparation to surrender the sky back to their cousin. Under any other circumstances it would have been a peaceful, perhaps even beautiful moment, but for Sam it just stretched on and on until he was sure that he was about to break down into a gibbering mess. He could still feel the bond that had become so much a part of his life, but it was dull, unresponsive and as seemingly lifeless as the metal shell that surrounded him. Then, with a faint hum and a surge of power, Bumblebee came back online.

Panic, doubt, anger, protect.

The sob that came from his lips was one of relief so complete he actually wailed like a child. As though burned, the belts and fabrics that cushioned him withdrew back to their original positions and he hurled himself across the centre console, one arm splayed across the top while the other curled helplessly against the glove compartment. Sparks flew from their contact, as though even their brief separation from each other caused them to need to reaffirm the other was still there.

"Oh god, B." Comfort flowed from his partner, energy snaking and rippling across his flesh like water, a replacement for a physical touch he could not feel, and he allowed himself just those few moments to think about nothing but the pulsing of the bond between them.

Apology, regret, failure, embarrassment.

He understood in spite of the confusion, knowing that the shutdown had not been intentional and that B had not meant to make him feel so terrified. Whatever had happened had seriously impacted on their connection. He'd felt it tearing through him like a knife through flesh; the intrusive, almost violent penetration of it into his sleeping mind had been like an invasion, unwelcome and terrifying in the ease with which it occured. He couldn't help the shiver that passed through him at the knowledge that somehow his mind had been violated. He felt used, dirty, both angry and scared that something so sacrosanct, so private and so totally B's had been entered by someone else. Beneath his own revulsion he felt the white hot blaze of his autobot's equally powerful anger at the foreign trespass onto his territory. He felt the energy ribbons pull away from him and retreat, his guardian uncertain that he could restrain himself from claiming Sam again after such an event.

He wanted to give in to that, to tell B that he felt just as disconnected, but the background demand had been unmistakeable throughout the entire event, an insidious message carried with the vision of his mother, strong and uncompromising. An emotion, no, a command, to return.

Come.

There had been no actual words, in the same way that the bond didn't allow B to speak directly to him, but the intent of the communication had been clear.

We have your mother. Come now, or else…

He didn't need to think to know who or what was sending the message. The Autobots would never have done something so despicable, and he doubted the Decepticons would ever think to kidnap his parents, since sexual reproduction was a concept of organic life. The rumble of B's engine agreed with his assessment and he shivered at the mere thought of putting himself in the hands of a group like Section 7. The memories of their harsh abduction, and the horrific capture and torture of Bumblebee were still fresh in both their minds; to the point that he thought he could still feel the sting of the liquid nitrogen in the air.

Or else…

Tremors wracked him at that horrific sense of foreboding that had ended the transmission, and he knew that this was no idle bluff. If he refused them or denied their request there was little doubt in his mind that one phonecall would see his mother dead in a matter of seconds, her body probably never to be found. The fact that he had seen no evidence at all as to the whereabouts of his father was something that he didn't want to dwell on any more than he had to. There was a brief shudder in the bond between them, a tremor of fear from his guardian that conveyed more effectively than words ever could how afraid B was for both of them, and how desperately he didn't wish to return. It was hard to believe that a group of humans could scare his mate more than facing down Megatron, but Megatron would just want to kill them, Section 7 would want something much worse.

In spite of this obvious terror invoked in his guardian, there was no command across the bond, no silent demand to abandon his mother to her death, no order to obey that he couldn't refuse. This was a choice that only he could make, and his bonded was leaving the decision up to him, their fate in his hands.

He'd barely drawn a breath when twin plumes of gravel were thrown up by B's rear tyres, accompanied by the wide swerve of the back end, throwing him into his seat as they did a rapid 180 and tore off back in the direction they'd come.

Afterall, it wasn't really a choice at all, was it?

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"Mr Secretary!" The assistant was shoved forcefully out of the way as the blonde woman slammed her shoulder into the office door and smashed them open in a breathless rush.

"Secretary Keller!" She stumbled for a second on the thick weave of the carpet, one of the unnecessarily long heels snapping off and forcing her to catch herself on the back of the couch.

"Maggie? What on earth is it?" The woman slumped down into the chair before the desk, apparently mindless of her harried appearance and panting breaths.

"We… satellites picked up…" The man handed her a glass of water which was swiftly gulped down as a plain yellow envelope was almost hurled across the desk. Aging yet still agile fingers easily tore open the package and dumped the papers unceremoniously onto the large timber and leather inlaid surface. Several were hurriedly picked up in no particular order, an action apparently born more of the obvious panic in the woman than in any true understanding of what the paper contained.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what I'm looking at here Ms Madsen." With a final swallow the last of the water disappeared down the pale throat and the crystal glass was slid across the desk, sliding off the edge and shattering in spite of the carpet below.

"We just detected an enormous energy discharge in the frequency bands we were monitoring. In addition we picked up several heat blooms in response to it." One of the sheets of paper was flipped over between them showing a thermal scan that clearly displayed several unusually bright points of light in an otherwise seemingly blank area. Manicured nails indicated the points as their owner drew in a harried breath, impatient eyes watching over the tops of wire framed glasses.

"We don't know exactly what the energy surge was, sir, but we do know that it's right in the range they use. And we weren't the only ones who noticed." No attempt was made to explain the remaining papers scattered across the desk, the two of them obviously confident enough with each other to trust in their word. The man grabbed the handset of the slim black phone perched before him and almost punched one of the buttons.

"Admiral, this is Keller. Are the Kitty Hawk and her group still waiting on station after that little incident at the Marianas?" There was less than a two second pause for the person on the other end to answer.

"Excellent. That scenario we were cooking up just might be going down. Tell the captain to get his ass down there and launch every plane he's got as soon as he's in range." He halted as the other person obviously interrupted.

"Look Admiral, I don't care if they run out of fuel and can't make it back, the pilots can ditch if they have to, but we can't risk them falling into the wrong hands. Get me some planes in the sky, am I clear?" The phone was slammed down without waiting for a response, the office falling into a tense silence for several moments as both occupants seemed to consider the ramifications of what was happening.

"You do realise that if you're wrong I've just cost us billions of dollars worth of lost aircraft and possibly missing or injured pilots." The comment sounded light, a half hearted attempt to make a joke out of the nervousness that was almost palpable in the air, but neither of the two smiled.

"I'm not wrong, Sir." Their eyes met over the desk, silently evaluating each other as though searching for any doubt.

"No, Maggie. I don't think you ever are."

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Will sat silently in the back seat he had been unceremoniously forced into, his eyes occasionally watching the faintly glowing red ones that were visible in the rear vision mirror ahead of him. He'd tried talking to the Decepticon, finding out what was happening and what he was going to do to him, but no answers had been given and eventually a viciously snarled "Silence, human!" and a clenching of his seat belt had convinced him that annoying the alien machine was probably not a good idea. He'd felt a slight lessening of their pace over the previous few minutes, even a relaxation of the projected form in the driver's seat, as though his abductor felt secure enough in their escape to let down his guard slightly. So now he sat there, heart going a million beats a minute as he contemplated exactly what was going to be done to him and where they were going.

"Cease your fidgeting human, I'm not going to damage you." Will started and jerked backwards at the voice that came from uncomfortably close to his ear, his eyes swiftly taking in the now empty front seat and the leather clad youth sitting slouched with one knee up on the seat beside him. He nervously cleared his throat at the slightly suggestive tone of voice and the even more suggestive pose.

"Yeah, well I'll pass on any physical contact thanks." He had enough trouble accepting Bumblebee and Sam being together, let alone even thinking about anything like that himself. Plus, he didn't know enough about the whole 'bonding' thing that Ironhide seemed so keen on, and he wasn't entirely sure he believed that it wasn't something the machines could just turn on if they wanted to. Something he definitely didn't want to fall victim to. Surprisingly the hologram laughed, throwing its head back in an extremely human gesture that, for just an instant, made Will forget that it wasn't.

"Very amusing Captain Lennox, you do realise we're having physical contact right this moment?" A pale yet powerful looking hand flourished briefly at the interior of the cabin and ran sexually across the leather of the seat before the twenty something chuckled at his uncomfortable expression. The supine form slowly bent long legs underneath and lent forward until he/it was crouched on hands and knees, their faces once again only inches apart.

"But alas for you, I have no interest in older men human, so you need not fear for your honour." A predatory smirk was flashed at him before the projection settled back down and turned to stare out the window.

"Then why…?" A non-real hand ran softly over the glass as the reflected eyes watched him.

"Because searching for you will delay that foolish Autobot, and because I may need assistance when we find Bumblebee and his human." There was an uncomfortable emphasis on the way Barricade phrased 'his human' that made Will shift uncomfortably, so he didn't bother trying to explain that Sam wasn't Bumblebee's pet or possession. Besides, he wasn't certain he entirely believed it himself.

"Why would I help you to capture them?" He didn't raise his voice or even put any anger behind his words; they weren't even filled with bravado. He had a feeling that any attempt to seem brave or arrogant would only end the conversation, and right now he needed all the answers he could get. The Decepticon dropped his hand away from the window, red eyes slipping over to look at him, as though understanding what he was doing, before returning to the slowly lightening view rushing past outside.

"I have no intention of capturing them, merely ensuring that your 'Section 7' do not." To say he was surprised would have been an understatement of immense proportions. He thought he must have looked like a complete fool, sitting there with his brow hopelessly furrowed in thought, this ancient alien machine looking at him as he would a child, trying to understand an adult.

"I don't understand." A slight smile flashed across the simulated features reflected in the glass.

"I know you don't, human." It wasn't malicious; it didn't even have a sneer on the word 'human', only a statement of fact.

"Did you know that Bumblebee and I share the same matrix design?" He barely paused long enough for Will to shake his head before he continued.

"We were among the last to be given life before the war broke out and the allspark was lost to us." That pale hand gestured to the metal of the Decepticon's real body, the darkness of the interior.

"He still looks almost like he did when we first came online, pure, seemingly untainted by this battle that has raged for millennia. I was not so lucky." There was a self deprecating chuckle as the hand ceased gesturing and instead was held before the Decepticon's own gaze.

"Megatron had me altered, had my form made more 'suitable' for what he deemed my role to be. The skin may seem flawless, Captain, but underneath there are scars." He thought he was beginning to understand finally what was going on.

"So you're looking out for Bumblebee? Like a brother?" The harsh laugh was back, the glow behind those eyes seeming to intensify with a cruel mirth.

"No, Bumblebee and I have fought in hundreds of battles across hundreds of worlds and shown no mercy Captain." Will couldn't help rolling his eyes at the seeming overly dramatic drawing out of the conversation.

"So tell me then, why are you trying to save them?" The hologram moved so rapidly that he wondered if perhaps it hadn't so much turned as simply been projected in its new position. Red eyes burned him from so close he could feel the heat coming off the other form before the Decepticon moved to whisper in his ear.

"It would seem that Bumblebee and I have more in common than just a similarity of design." Will choked on his own saliva as his eyes went wide, the other form pulling back to give him some space.

"Sam?" Whatever the answer was he wouldn't find out right then, as a faint shudder passed through the car body around them. Glowing eyes rolled up in their sockets as the slim body seemed to convulse, the Decepticon skidding off the road in a disturbingly uncoordinated manner, throwing Will harshly against the restraint of the seatbelt.

When they finally came to a halt he found himself staring down at the back of the holographic head where it had fallen into his lap. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew the seatbelt wasn't going to release him so he hesitantly poked the apparently unconscious form sprawled across his lap.

"Hey, you alright?" The car beneath him vibrated slightly and red eyes once more stared up at him, the malicious smirk firmly back in place.

"I think that's enough answers for one night, human. Besides, Section 7 have made their move, and I personally want to be there to witness the result."

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The electronic shriek of feedback filled the interior of the overcrowded van, the sound briefly joined by human cries as headsets were hurriedly knocked off, only to find the same noise issuing forth from the wall speakers around them. Everyone present swiftly slammed hands over ears in a futile effort to block out the scream that seemed to only get louder as the seconds ticked on. One of the technicians seated at a desk hunched over and fell to the floor, hands clawing at his face before seeming to have a seizure and falling unnaturally still. With a crack, sparks bloomed from several locations in the small space, hot components scorching flesh that got too close as the smell of fried electronics filled the van. Computer monitors flashed brilliant white, a colour and brightness that promised an overload, before everything promptly went dead.

No one moved in the sudden silence for several seconds, hesitant eyes seeking out their companions before eventually someone tentatively lifted a hand from first one ear and then the other. Slowly, the remaining men pried their palms away from the sides of their head and one of the two men standing near the door turned and slid it open to let the smoke and smell clear.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know…" The timid man at the front of the group wrung his hands nervously as he was cut off with an imperious gesture, the hand of his superior falling back to his side.

"Was the transmission successful?" The technicians glanced at each other for a few brief seconds as though communicating silently with their eyes before eventually the question was answered.

"Yes sir. They received it." Behind the tall man his companion let out a relieved exhalation, tenseness leaving his shoulders as he leant back against the metal door frame behind him.

"Well thank god that's over." A soft chuckle came from the thin lipped mouth of the leader as he hunched over and proceeded out the door into the slowly lightening night. Mud squelched beneath two sets of shoes as they both stepped out of the humid and smoky interior of the van, the taller of the two taking the chance to straighten after the confines and adjust a slightly crooked tie.

"Only the chase, Peter, only the chase." His gaze turned speculatively to the north, following the curving highway until it disappeared between two distant peaks as though able to scent their approaching quarry.

"The war… Well, the war is only just starting."

Fin