Greetings, most gentle readers. I pray you, be not angry at the author for her abrupt ending in the last chapter, nor her tardiness in continuing! I made it so for a reason, and hope to resolve the issue within this chapter. I did not intend to disturb anyone with my previous account, but I never liked Frenzy. Or chain letters. Still, Raf is going to forward every chain letter he gets now. The poor dear thinks that Decepticons will come if he doesn't. (not, of course, that this is entirely wrong...)

As per usual, I own naught but my imagination and words. Roll out!


Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, a door.

"You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension— a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Aspen Zone."

(Insert Twilight Zone theme)


We've likely all seen or received them before: some jumble of sentences that may or may not have anything to do with you, but tacked onto the end is a plea to forward it to multiple other people. If you comply, it promises, good things will happen to you. Failure to forward the message will result in a supernatural punishment of some kind. The chain letter. Normally, of course, such things can safely be ignored and sent to the garbage bins with little worry of what might follow us. What a pity that the same can't be said for...the Aspen Zone.

"Tell me again, slowly, what happened, Bumblebee." Optimus Prime stood immovable and impassive, his arms crossed over his chestplates. Before him, the youngest Autobot paced the floor in a state somewhere near hysteria. "Raf texted me and asked me to come over." he buzzed nervously. Large flat servos tapped together fitfully as he stopped walking. "He was scared, said he'd seen a picture on the Internet that bothered him or something." Bumblebee glanced up at the Prime, who nodded slowly. "An incident all too common these days," he mused. The scout ran a hand over his helm and continued. "When I got there, the blinds were open on Raf's window. I had barely parked when the window flew open!" "Flew open?" Optimus frowned. "Did Rafael open it himself, or did Frenzy?" With a mournful beeping sound, the youngling sagged against the wall. "Raf opened it. Frenzy clawed him in the back while he jumped out. He jumped out, Prime! He's just a little guy and he jumped about five feet! While bleeding!"

He turned his gaze to the med bay, where Ratchet and June were fussing over the child, who was still frightened out of his wits. As his own sweater had been soaked with blood and fairly near ruined, he was wearing one of Jack's shirts. It dwarfed the small boy: his hands didn't even meet the ends of the sleeves. Raf looked up and offered his guardian a weak smile. A hand on Bumblebee's shoulder brought him back to his narrative. "Frenzy came to the window and said he was after Raf. He called him 'the hacker'. Do you think Soundwave sent him?" Servos twisted anxiously around each other at the thought. Optimus sighed heavily. "I do not know, Bumblebee, but it is a logical assumption. Rafael has personally foiled Soundwave's plans too many times to escape notice." The hand on Bumblebee's shoulder tightened comfortingly as the young scout cycled his hand out for a blaster. "I'll kill him. I'll kill Soundwave if he was behind this!" he snarled.

"Calm yourself, my friend," Optimus said gently, "This isn't helping Raf." Doorwings drooping, Bumblebee quietly moved to the med bay to sit beside his human friend. "Hi 'Bee," Raf whispered. "Nurse Darby gave me an antibiotic just in case. Frenzy's claws looked pretty dirty." He took his glasses off with trembling hands. "I think he found my house because of my email account. I can't explain how, except that I made that account when I was eight and didn't know a lot about internet safety." Bumblebee cooed soothingly and wrapped a hand around the boy's back like a hug. Raf wiped his eyes on the floppy sleeve. "At least Unit E has my family, and they're safe," he mumbled into the cloth. But his run of bad luck fell true to form, and Agent Fowler entered the base at that moment to deliver bad news. "Prime!" the stern man shouted, "We've got a situation!" When he noticed Raf watching him with wide eyes, he lowered his tone and moved to the railing of the upper platform.

"A group of MECH agents disguised as government officials found the motel where the Esquivels were staying. They took them, Optimus, and I don't know where." A look of deep concern flickered over the grave expression. "As Frenzy has been neutralized, the Autobots will turn their full attention to finding the Esquivel family. Will your men be able to move in when we find them, or will it be necessary to personally intervene?" Fowler shook his head. "I don't know, Prime. I think I can get Hauser's team on rescue duty, but we need coordinates first." Without another word, Optimus turned and moved to the base's central computer. "O-optimus?" a shaky voice from the med bay caught his attention. "Yes, Rafael?" The boy scrambled to the end of the hospital cot and shoved his glasses back on. "What's going on? Where's my family?"

Responding to an unspoken cue, Ratchet lifted Raf from the gurney and strode into the main chamber, to what was normally the young computer whiz's work station. "It appears that matters have escalated," the medic said grimly. "We will retrieve them," Optimus stated in a firm tone, "But we must track their whereabouts first. Rafael, right now you must be very brave: I will need your help to locate them." He motioned to the screen meaningfully. Raf gulped and slid from Ratchet's hand to the keyboard. "Um...okay. Beto always has his smart phone on, I can hack that for a location. If I tweet from his account, it should tell us exactly where he is!" The elder beings stared at the human, slightly confused. "What do birds have to do with anything?" Ratchet grumbled.

A brave search is begun, but what of the missing Esquivels? Do they even realize their danger yet?

The Esquivels woke up for the second time in a different place. Marcela stood and stretched, yawning. She glanced down at her couch in surprise. Had she fallen asleep in the living room again? The movie must have run very late indeed! Jaime was still flopped over the arm of the couch. He hadn't even taken off his shoes or watch! Marcela frowned. How unusual of him. The woman's eyes roved the room, noting with mild interest that four of her five children were sprawled across the carpet with pillows and blankets—apparently dead to the world. The older three must've come in sometime after she'd fallen asleep, she decided, and padded into the kitchen to start breakfast. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought for just a moment that she saw an extra door between the pantry and the refrigerator, but quickly dismissed it as the ramblings of a sleep-fogged brain.

Marcela opened the refrigerator and sighed. "We ought to buy stock in milk," she grumbled under her breath, "I know I bought a gallon two days ago! What happened to it?" Suspiciously, she glanced into the den at her sleeping children. She grabbed a carton of eggs and moved to the stove. Nothing happened when she turned the dial and placed the skillet on the stovetop. Marcela frowned again. "Oh, don't tell me the stove is broken! That's the last thing we need!" she growled. Suddenly she was standing on the other side of the oven, holding the skillet in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, stirring eggs that were nearly done frying. Her eyes widened. What had just happened? She had no memory of moving, and the stove was working just fine now. I must be more tired than I thought! Mrs. Esquivel blew out a breath and shook her head. "Rise and shine, Esquivels!" she hollered, "Eggs are getting cold!"

Like a zombie in pigtails, Pilar shuffled through the doorway moaning comically. "Mama, did I sleep walk last night again?" she croaked, rooting through the fridge for orange juice, "Because last thing I remember, I was in my room reading Torchlight. How'd I get into the den?" Marcela shrugged. "I don't know, mija, I was already asleep." The young girl closed the fridge and gazed uncomprehendingly at a note pinned to the door. Neatly typed, it appeared to be from Raf. "Dear everyone, I'm going to hang out with my friends from school. You were all still asleep, so I went ahead on my own. I'll be back by lunch, love Raf." Pilar scratched her head. "Why would he type it instead of writing?" she wondered. "Because he's a techno geek," Juan interjected moodily. "And he's been messing with my phone again!" The thing white piece of hardware buzzed in his hand even as he spoke. The boy eyed the screen sourly. Where r u? it read. Home. Where are you?

Cryptically, the reply read, You're not.

Juan huffed and collapsed into a chair as his brother, elder sister, and father joined them in the kitchen. I'm not what? he texted back, picking at his fried egg. He jolted when he read the answer, and passed the phone to Alicia. "I think Raf is pranking me," he announced, "He keeps texting me to say that I'm not home." Mr. Esquivel leaned back in his chair to grab the carton of orange juice from the counter where Pilar had left it. Two chair legs off the ground, he paused, one eyebrow raised quizzically. "Was that door always there?" he asked, motioning to the pale, dirty green door between the pantry and the refrigerator. "Was what door always there?" Beto craned his neck, trying to see around the refrigerator. His father blinked and the chair was on the floor once more. He moved his fork to his mouth. "I guess it was, then," he remarked. Bewilderment flooded his lined features, and he withdrew the fork once more. "Waffles?" he gaped at the morsel on the prongs. "But we're eating eggs!"

The rest of the family looked down and found the same food on their own plates. "Haunted breakfast." Alicia said in a deadpan tone. Suddenly it was eggs again, within the space of a blink, but the syrup bottle was gone. Alicia's phone vibrated in the den. "Hang on a sec," she pushed back her chair. "No you don't, this is a family meal!" her mother scolded. The teenager rolled her eyes. "Mom, Raf isn't here, so it's not a real family meal." She darted into the other room and came back with a black flip-phone. "Twitter update," she explained as she retrieved her seat. One elegantly arched eyebrow raised itself nearly to her hairline. "From Juan." Her younger brother shook his head violently. "No way! My phone's over there on the counter: I haven't touched it!" The phone was passed from Alicia to Pilar to Juan. "See for yourself."

The update was only five words: None of it is real. Marcela blinked and pushed her plate away and turned to her son. "Aren't you a little young for depressing philosophy, novio?" The fifteen-year-old dropped his face into his palm. "I didn't write this, Mom! I swear!" Pilar peeped over his shoulder and confirmed his protestations. "It's true. The update time is set for one minute ago, and he was eating breakfast then." she wrinkled her nose. "This is such a weird morning." On any other day, Jaime and Marcela would have dismissed their children's fears as too much tv and left it there. Still, the ghostly tweet and Raf's mysterious text, coupled with the changing breakfast food and the memory gaps worried them. Neither one appreciated it when Beto began to whistle the theme from The X-Files. Jaime stood a little too quickly, sending his chair careening backward. "I'm going to work in the office," he mumbled. He scraped the remains of his food into the trash can and briskly walked to the designated computer room, trying to put the unusual happenings out of his mind.

In the office, something was sparking and flickering. At first, Jaime didn't notice it, being wholly distracted by a Twitter window that popped up on his screen without him having anything to do with it. It was Juan's account again. It isn't real. You have to leave. "Juan! Stop that!" the man shouted over his shoulder. Distantly, his son's voice retorted that it still wasn't his doing. It had to be some sort of joint prank between him and his siblings. The sparking, fizzing noise caught his attention again, and Jaime looked up. Part of the ceiling was gone. Not to say that it had fallen out, or was damaged, but that it wasn't there. There was a line of circuits and wires, and something that looked like theater lights if he squinted. Jaime Esquivel's blood ran cold, and he turned back to the Twitter feed, typing a query in reply to the post. Who is this? Almost instantly, the reply popped up. Irrelevant. Leave the house. Ominous sounding words. Marcela's worried voice from the kitchen told Mr. Esquivel that she and the children had seen the post as well.

Alicia looked up at her brothers with a slightly apprehensive expression before adding a comment of her own. How do you know he's even in the house? She set the phone down. "There. It's probably just some hacker troll." There was silence for several minutes, then the phone vibrated. Pilar snatched it before her sister could and read the reply out loud. "What's behind the door?" she blinked. "Door? What door?" Alicia reclaimed her phone with a grumpy noise and typed Pilar's question. "Kids, enough!" Marcela shooed them out of the kitchen. "You're just going to make it worse! Ignore the hacker, and maybe he'll stop." Beto, Alicia, Juan and Pilar gathered in Raf's empty room, and were faced with even more proof that something was amiss. "Raf's laptop is still here!" Beto cried, "There's no way he'd leave the house without it!" Sitting on the bed, Juan crossed his arms. "I bet he's hiding in the house somewhere, hacking my Twitter just to freak us all out!"

His older brother leveled a deadpan gaze on him. "Pranking us? Raf? Be serious." Pilar tugged on his arm. "Beto, this is kinda freaky." The phone vibrated again, and for several minutes, none of them touched it. At last, Alicia's curiosity overcame her and she read the reply. What's behind the door? Then, seconds later:

We are coming for you.

They gulped. "Yeah, prank or not, that's pretty creepy." Beto admitted. Abruptly, their father entered the room, looking pale. "I take it you read the note?" Beto asked. The man nodded grimly. "If your little brother was behind this..." he let the thought trail off. The Esquivels, thoroughly unnerved, gathered in the den and sat unmoving on the couch, waiting for the phones to buzz again. They never did. After a while, Juan opened his Twitter account, intent on finding out who had hacked him. His exclamation of surprise drew his family's attention. "What the? My account is gone! It's been deleted!" Sure enough, the account was completely gone, and its posts had been wiped from the other members' feeds. Pilar jumped to her feet in a jerky motion.

"Well I don't care!" she announced to no one in particular, "I'm going to see what's behind that door!" She stomped into the kitchen, and stood before the door-that-should-not-be. She took a deep breath. "It's okay, Pilar," she whispered to herself, "It's just like Doctor Who. If Amy can do it, so can you." She reached out, grabbed the handle, and—it would not open. There was no keyhole in the door, yet it acted as though it were bolted. "Beto, Juan! Wanna help me break a door?" she called. "Hold on a moment, young lady!" Jaime scolded, "We are not barbarians!" He hurried into the kitchen and soon realized that his daughter was not exaggerating. For something that appeared so flimsy, the door held firm as though it were steel. He frowned. "Beto, go get my ax from the shed out back." The high school graduate ran for the back door and was back in seconds. "It's locked—from the outside!" A similar discovery was made at the front door, as well as all the windows. Panic seized the Esquivels, and in the stunned silence that followed, Alicia repeated the last tweet. "We are coming."

Suddenly an explosion rocked the house, sending the family crashing to the floor. The lights flickered off, and so did the house. They sat in a stark grey room covered in tiny lights and circuits. Only the mystery door remained. Behind it, they could hear gunfire and screams. Terrified, Pilar clung to her father and eldest brother, and Alicia held tightly to her mother and Juan. The sound of screeching metal and something that sounded like a ten car pileup racked the air, and Jaime pushed his family into a corner and stood in front of them, ready to confront whatever came through the door. The metal walls began to buckle as some huge object smashed into them. A wrecking-ball shaped bulge formed, then widened. With a splintering report, the steel was breached and after a moment, a man's head appeared. "Esquivels! Up here!" he called. A cable was tossed down in lieu of a rope, and the frightened family hurried to climb up. A dark skinned man with a bald head in fatigues helped them out and into the huge, blunt hand of a three-story high robot!

"Is everyone okay?" its deep voice rattled their bones at its close proximity. The bald soldier examined them closely. "There don't appear to be any injuries, Bulkhead. Let's just get them to the safe zone, then you and me go wreckin'." The round helm nodded sharply. "Sounds like a plan, Heavy Duty." Sputtering, Mr. Esquivel practically shrieked, "What is going on here?!" He was not answered. The Esquivels were taken out of what appeared to be a massive warehouse and deposited at a line on the pavement next to two helicopters. The man the robot had called 'Heavy Duty' saluted a man in a suit who stood with one of the choppers. "Here they are, Agent Fowler. Safe'n'sound. If you don't mind, me and Bulk here were thinkin' we might leave MECH with a little "farewell present."" His face fell somewhat when the agent shook his head. "Negative, soldier. Just inform Magnus and Hauser that the objective has been accomplished and we're peeling out."

The green robot held two fingers to the side of his head for a moment. "Done." he announced. A blue and red robot and five human soldiers came charging out of the warehouse ten minutes later, firing hi-tech weapons behind them. "We're clear!" the blue robot shouted, "Ratchet, open a Ground Bridge!" If Jaime and Marcela hadn't been holding each other up, it was likely that they would have collapsed when the "swirling vortex of terror" (as Juan later called it) appeared out of thin air. A small, shadowy figure materialized in the portal and dropped to the ground calmly. It was Rafael, and his eyes were cold. "Is everything ready?" he asked the soldiers without a hint of fear. The only woman with them handed the boy a small screen. "See for yourself. Snake Eyes set the bugs while we set the charges." A slightly frightening smirk appeared on Raf's face. "Agent Fowler, we're going to want to be well out of range within the next three minutes," he said. The man nodded. "You heard him, folks. Everybody out!"

The two robots (whom the Esquivels would later learn were called "Cybertronians" and were, in fact, space aliens) headed through the green portal while the humans filed into the choppers. Raf sat next to his father and Alicia across from his mother, Pilar, and his brothers and stared at his screen. "I'm glad you guys are okay," he said softly, "And I'm sorry I got you involved in this." He looked up at them, and they had never seen such determination in his face before. "But there's no going back now. This isn't something you can walk away from and pretend didn't happen." He glanced out the window at the disorganized MECH base and held the screen up to his mouth, "Ratchet?" he said calmly, "Release the Kraken." In an instant, a vicious computer virus completely devastated MECH's hard drives, erasing every inch of data they had ever gleaned about the Cybertronians or their human allies. Wordlessly, Rafael handed the screen to Agent Fowler, who patched a link from the Autobots through to the one MECH screen they'd left intact.

Over the man's shoulder, Marcela and her sons stared open-mouthed at the regal metal face glaring out at them—well, at the terrorists who they had just been rescued from. "Consider this a warning," the voice reverberated even in the noisy helicopter. "An attack on those connected to our allies is an attack upon us, and we will respond accordingly. Do not attempt to interfere with the Esquivels' lives again." The screen clicked off, and Fowler looked up at Raf. "We good?" he asked. The boy's face lit up in an enthusiastic grin, and he sent the man two thumbs up in a direct contrast to his previous attitude. "Signed and sealed, Fowler! Scramble 'em!" With the press of a button, the last screen in the terrorists' hideout exploded, and the holodeck the Esquivels had been kept in vanished in flames. Dumbstruck, Jaime and Marcela stared at their youngest son. Who was this little soldier? The boy offered them an apologetic look. "I know, I've got a lot of explaining to do," he agreed with their silent exclamations. "Dude," Pilar leaned over towards him. "You went all psycho-hacker back there. What happened? And who do the giant robots belong to?"

Raf ran a hand over his aching shoulder, willing the blood not to seep through the bandages before they reached Outpost Omega. "They don't "belong" to anyone, Pilar. They're sentient. I run tech support for their medic most of the time that I'm not home." His eyes brightened somewhat. "I guess you could say I've been apprenticed to him! As for what happened back there..." a guilty expression clouded his features. "I've made some...enemies. One of them tracked me down last night, and attacked me at home. I called for backup, but the call was intercepted by this terrorist group, MECH." The words seemed so out of place coming from a twelve-year-old boy that no one could say a word. Small fists clenched to stop the trembling. "They took you guys because they thought you knew something about what I was involved in. Sergeant Hauser says they were counting on you thinking you were in the safety of your own home so that you would talk freely about the classified information they were sure you knew."

He snorted. "It was, by far, one of their dumbest ideas. But then again, since Agent Fowler and Optimus took down their leader, they've been kind of sloppy." He wrapped one arm around his father and one arm around his eldest sister. "But everything's okay now, and you're safe," the boy said in a reassuring tone. Whether it was meant for them or for him was uncertain. "And maybe this time MECH will remember what happens when you mess with the Autobots." The government agent sitting on the other side of Jaime nodded. "Your son's saved quite a few lives by his involvement in the Autobot forces," he remarked. Marcela passed a hand over her eyes and groaned even as her other children began demanding stories and explanations of Rafael.

This would take getting used to.