Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All unrecognizable ones are the intellectual property of yours truly; their theft is punishable by severe voodoo-induced pain in any and all sensitive organs of the body, followed by eternal damnation.

Because, you know, stealing is wrong. (Which is funny because I totally ganked this disclaimer from Vaeru, with her permission of course.)


Rated: T. For mild cursing, violence, and other adult themes that will probably ensue.

Author Notes: This chapter was so ridiculously hard to write. I wish I could slap David over the head for being so uncooperative. However, I did see "I Am Legend" this past weekend and I highly recommend watching it. (If you're into freaky Zombie Vampires.) It gave me a lot of inspiration for later chapters. I'm also going to The Rockies on Saturday for skiing so I'll definitely be takin' notes.


Contra Mundum

Chapter Nine


Dr. Eric Foreman: "You assaulted that man!"
Dr. Gregory House: "Fine. I'll never do it again."
Dr. Eric Foreman: "Yes you will."
Dr. Gregory House: "All the more reason this debate is pointless."

-House M.D


The jet didn't answer David's question at first. There had been an awkward silence, as the human had obviously caught the Autobot off guard. Instead, the jet decided to introduce himself as well as the other mechs still surrounding David. Jetfire was the jet's name (big surprise) and he introduced the others who continued to stand uncomfortably close to the human at their feet, aside from Mirage who preferred to linger in the back. It wasn't hard to guess why; they didn't want a repeat of David's colorful sense of revenge.

It annoyed David greatly, and made him slightly jittery. But he tolerated it, sat down with his legs crossed and his hands beside him to show them he had no intention of attacking them again. But he couldn't help looking around nervously from mech to mech, flinching at every movement, twitching at every noise, and shuffling away when one of them got too close. It was nothing short of a miracle that David didn't whip out his magnesium blade again when Trailbreaker had chosen to sit down as well, creating quite a bit of noise and jolting the man.

David, despite his anxiety, sat and listened patiently to Jetfire as he spoke of the war on his planet, the struggle for resources, the creation of the factions, and ultimately why both Decepticons and Autobots had come to Earth. Every now and then David would interrupt to ask a few questions, but for the most part he remained silent. He listened to Jetfire speak of their leader called Optimus Prime and of Megatron, who led the Decepticons. By the time the jet finished his speech the sun was already passed the highest point in the sky and the cool air of the morning had long since evaporated. David continued to sit in defiance of the sun's rays, as they burned into the back of his neck and gave the red and white mech in front of him a harsh glare. He refused to believe a single word that escaped the Autobot.

Sure, Jetfire and the others had spared David's life when they could've easily snuffed it out, and they certainly still could at any moment. Jetfire also kneeled to talk to David, he didn't speak over him nor did he treat him like the horrid little rodent the Stunticons did. If anything, he appeared to try and speak to the human on an equal level. But Decepticons in the past had deceived humans, posing as traitors to their leaders and offering help to the poor little organics. David also knew the Decepticons sought to utilize every energy resource they could find on the planet, and with humans running around sucking up said resources, they had a rather violent disposition towards mankind. These "Autobots" might just be trying to use David to find larger groups of humans to wipe out.

"So, I'm to understand that ya'll are here to help us out?" David asked in a flat tone. From somewhere behind him, someone echoed, "'Ya'll'?" to which David slowly reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. Robots were just as bad as Yankees.

"Yes," answered Jetfire simply, interrupting David's thoughts.

"Ok. So, where are the rest of you?"

"I'm sorry?"

The human sighed again; his frustration was beginning to build at an alarming rate. He stood up but tried to remain as much in the center of the circle as possible, even denying himself the relief of standing in the cool shade of Bluestreak's shadow. "The rest of you, as in 'the rest of your army'. You said yourself that there's a whole lot more of you. Well, they're coming right? There are only six of you here,"

"We're it," said Trailbreaker before Jetfire could answer, and the makeshift leader shot the truck a glare. "Sorry," he added sheepishly towards Jetfire.

The young man didn't even try to suppress his laugh. "Six bots against a planet of Decepticons?" He asked incredulously. Maybe these weren't Decepticons after all, because even they weren't that stupid. After fifteen years of hell, help finally reaches Earth and it turns out to be suicidal. How horrendously poetic.

At David's question, Mirage made a noise that may have been the robotic version of someone clearing their throat, though it really didn't sound anything like that at all. It was more like a mixture of grinding metal and static, and it made David wince at the noise.

"There are not as many Decepticons occupying your planet as you may think. That is part of their tactic, and it is easiest employed over organic species. There are more drones on your planet than mechs," he said matter-of-factly. Throughout the exchange between man and machine, the blue racecar had been lingering in the back nursing the wound in his hand he received from David, which the man had yet to even start feeling bad about.

"Then what are you doing here with me?" the human inquired suspiciously.

This time, it was Hound who answered him. "Your distress beacon was the closest for us to answer. We couldn't exactly answer all the signals we saw so we figured we'd try to do it systematically." Out of the corner of his eyes, David saw Jetfire throw his hands up in annoyance and the he tried very hard, and with little success, not to smile from it. "We'd hoped ya'll would be happy to receive some help."

"I think you can hardly blame us," David said, narrowing his glare and not failing to notice the jeep's use of the term "ya'll". "For fifteen years now we've been fighting off 'Cons and every day they we lose our family and friends as they gain more control over our planet. We were never even sure aliens existed before they showed up and suddenly, BAM! We're all runnin' for our lives and scratchin' out a living in sewers, basements, and mountainsides. It's not like we had time to figure out there were more giant alien robots that had separate ideals from them," the human continued, not bothering to care that his accent was beginning to resurface.

"Which brings me back to my earlier question: What the hell took ya'll so long if you say you live to stop these creeps? Fifteen years for Christ's sake! We didn't have the knowledge or the technology to stand up to them and had to figure it out the hard way after millions of people died. Maybe even billions! There used to be so much more of us… Now we're lucky if our numbers reach the upper thousands. We barely have any way to communicate with each other except bein' face-to-face, 'cause we don't have the luxury of being giant-ass robots with internal communication systems. We don't even know if there's any life to be found in Europe or Asia, or if Australia even exists anymore! Did ya'll just sit around twiddlin' your oversized thumbs until you got bored then decided to get off your asses?!"

David knew he had probably over-stepped the line, he knew that he was swimming in unknown territory and close proximity with six individuals who were much, much bigger than him and that with every word he was probably aggravating each of them more and more. Perhaps if David had more control, he could've schmoozed with them more, milked further information out of them, and maybe in some other universe he could've managed to outwit them and escape.

But as the human continued to rant, he found himself becoming angrier and angrier. Angry at everything that had happened since the incursion, angry at every hardship and every death. Angry at the Decepticons, at the "Autobots", at God, and at everything else in the world that was in control where he wasn't. The man had never been truly angry in his life, especially in recent years because rage invited irrationality and that was something no human could afford. But now, he was so livid he didn't care that each word that blitzed passed his lips might cause his skull to be smashed into the concrete. He didn't even notice his arms shaking or the numbness in his hands caused by his too tightly clenched fists.

"It's a war you started isn't it? The least you could do is have the decency to take responsibility for it and help those who are getting killed because of your choices!"

If David had not stepped over the line before, he certainly had now. He hadn't just stepped over it, he blew right by it as if it was nothing, and he could tell this fact by the sudden change of facial expressions on all the mechs. During his rant they had all shown sullen expressions of guilt, aside from Sunstreaker; who lingered next to Mirage and looked indifferent to just about everything. But with the utterance of David's last few sentences, the mechs bristled noticeably and Sunstreaker suddenly snapped his fin-adorned helm in his direction.

In all of two seconds, the bright yellow Lamborghini shoved his way to the edge of the circle, crouched down low, and pushed his pristine silver face alarmingly close to David. The only thing that kept the human from scrambling backwards was that he would have only hit his back against Jetfire's foot.

"You think your planet is the only to suffer?" Sunstreaker snarled, static distorting the edges of his voice. "You think you're the only ones who've got it rough? You should be grateful we even showed up! There are plenty others who won't be receiving any help and even more who never did!"

"Then what brings youhere, huh?" David demanded angrily and shoving forward back at the face instead of cowering back from it. He made a living killing Decepticons, dammit. He wasn't going to let a painfully bright-colored robot bully him around. "If there's so many out there who need your help, who need it more than Earth, then why aren't you hopskippin' over to those planets?"

By this time, Jetfire had clearly had enough. He stepped over David, who jumped a good couple of feet in the air, and roughly shoved Sunstreaker away from the human. The large yellow mech looked as if he was ready to return the favor but a stern look from the jet halted Sunstreaker's movements. David had a sneaking suspicion that they were probably still communicating with each other, though neither was speaking.

Just as David's patience was about to snap, Jetfire finally returned his attention to him, though the look on his face imparted to the human that the Autobot was still sore from his rather insensitive remark.

"We're under no obligation to divulge our purposes to you. You can either accept our help or not. I'm sure there are others here on this planet that would not be opposed to some much needed aid," Jetfire said in an icy tone.

Fat chance o' that, David thought sourly to himself.

"What are the chances others of your kind will react the same way to us as you did?" Bluestreak asked after a brief moment, almost in response of David's thoughts. The question itself almost took David by surprise; he had practically forgotten the gunner was even there.

"Pretty good," he answered with a dark chuckle. "Of course there'll probably be more to deal with than just me."

Hound let out a wheeze that sounded awfully close to a groan and Mirage hissed to Jetfire, "It'd be easier if we could convince this one," obviously not wanting to relive his painful first meeting with a human.

"Or we could just forget the whole thing and go back to the front lines where we're actually needed," Sunstreaker suggested with a glare in Jetfire's direction.

"Sunstreaker, I know you're antsy to get back to your brother but if we don't stop the flow of resources to Decepticons this war will never end. We're needed most here," the jet answered, pointing towards the ground to emphasize his point. If looks could kill, then Jetfire would've been immolated on the spot by the death glare Sunstreaker gave him. David wasn't really paying attention to that though, he was too dumbfounded at the idea of robots having siblings.

With his mind still reeling, David somehow managed to sputter out, "If there's only six of you here, and you don't plan on going back, then what exactly is your plan?" He placed his hand on his head, pushing the question concerning mechanical kin to the back of his mind for later. Jetfire hesitated for a moment, his blue optics flickering down to David, and the human could have sworn he saw the same kind of fear in his metallic face that lies within someone who knows something terrible that another doesn't.

"David," he said in a tone David decided was much too calm for his liking. "There is a chance for your species to reclaim your planet. Despite the large number of drones on your planet, you and your people still outnumber them to a large extent. The sheer number of distress signals alone would be enough to give the Decepticons here a considerable amount of grief."

"It is not as hopeless as you think. That is part of Decepticon tactic: to divide and conquer. If you help us, help us connect and gather your people, we have a winning chance of taking back this planet. You know the terrain, you know where the Decepticons are centered, and you clearly know how to fight them," Jetfire said with a nod in Mirage's direction. The racecar only responded with a grunt.

Once again the thin man furrowed his brow in the red and white jet's direction. He had to admit; the mech could act. David very much wanted to believe him, but the thought of grasping onto some shred of hope, only to have it taken away once more was too much for him.

The world was gone now; there were barely any humans left. That was an idea David had been convinced was real for so long now. Earth was infested with Decepticons, what humans were left had no chance against them, even with the helpful technology and knowledge they possessed. There was no point in trying was there? There couldn't possibly be…

"How many actual Decepticons are on Earth?" David asked in a strange and quiet voice.

Jetfire turned to Bluestreak, who tilted his chevron-adorned head in thought.

"With the Stunticons working in the Western Hemisphere, the Insecticons in the Eastern, plus Octane and Shockwave, that creates a total of eleven actual mechs. As for drones, I can't really say. They wouldn't be too hard to get rid of though. They're pretty shottily made, what with the 'Cons cutting corners, and they're dumb as slag and­—"

"There are only eleven Decepticons on my planet?" David asked, cutting off Bluestreak with a quivering voice.

"Well it looks like there used to be twelve, but it seems like you already gave Blitzwing a hearty hello quite some time ago," Trailbreaker said leaning over to nudge the rusting remains of a previously unknown Decepticon David had killed years ago. Weeds and ivy curled lovingly around joints and limbs of the fallen Triple Changer.

"There's…there's only eleven? So few did this much?" David asked again, his voice quaking even more, yet in a higher pitch and softer volume. The angry scowl was gone from his face, replaced by a blank wide-eyed stare directed towards the ground. The mechs around him shifted uneasily, looking at one another and waiting for someone to break the nervous silence.

The shaking in David's voice traveled to his arms, then his knees, and suddenly it became very hard to breathe. How could only a handful of Decepticons wreak this much hell? It couldn't be true. No, it wasn't true. There had to be more. The entire human race could not have possibly buckled and folded under only eleven Decepticons.

"I…" the human finally said, his body still shaking and his head wandering on his neck to find something to focus on, anything but the beings who stood high above him. "I need to think."

He turned away from Jetfire and walked towards the manhole on unsteady long legs, taking each step slow and one at a time. He didn't notice Hound and Bluestreak step away from the hole, or Sunstreaker shouting protests. He slipped into the dark hole, slowly climbed down the rungs of the rusty and slimey ladder, and began to walk into his haven dragging his feet all the while.

"This can't be true."


Author's Notes Continued: Ok, because I've been getting a few messages concerning it, let me explain about the number eleven. I did some research on the Insecticons and found that although I like the group composed of Bombshell, Kickback and Shrapnel, I felt that Barrage, Chop Shop, Ransack, and Venom would do a better job. So, that's five Stunticons, four Insecticons, and two others. Eleven.

Happy Holidays everyone.