Chapter Nine: Ruin

Chaos descended upon Chicago, a Black Plague returned to finish a job it had started so many years ago.

The fiery embers of the destroyed Xanthium were still drifting lazily towards the earth when Vector positioned his pillars strategically atop what the humans referred to as Trump Tower. The central pillar, the Control, pulsed at his command. A shimmering veil ricocheted out from it like a ripple in calm waters. For several breaths the unknowing citizens of the city gaped and marveled at what they perceived to be a meteorological wonder. It was as though the Arora Borealis had deigned to shine its light upon the overworked city and its inhabitants, giving them a brief glimpse of one of the more fantastical parts of their world.

And then the blue beam of light shuddered up into the sky and from its peak poured forth the Horde.

Battle cruisers, clunking monoliths of Cybertronian metal either thieved from enemy servos or having belonged to the Decepticons from conception, whistled through the encroaching night air. Smaller ships dropped from the cruiser hulls and sailed through the building chasms. First there was one, and then three, followed by ten. In the span of several stuttering, fearful heartbeats the sky was swallowed by Decepticon war ships.

There was no warning when the shots began firing.

People screamed as cannons and bombs went off all around them. There was no pattern to the destruction. Buildings were struck from above and below causing mortar and metal to collapse in on itself. Cars were set aflame by swirling plasma blasts, one exploding engine igniting another in the clustered streets until, eventually, the roads resembled rivers of lava winding in and out of crumbling buildings.

Men, women, and children ran for shelter that was not to be found. Decepticon soldiers not piloting Destroyers and Fighters were leveling the innocents on foot. Some humans were smote as if by God, their bodies disintegrated in a fraction of a second while others suffered, bleeding out from wounds far too grave to continue on. Mothers clung desperately to children as red optics glowed malevolently above them. Stray bits of wi-fi enabled filming done by the few that could revealed carnage unlike any other man had before witnessed until that two fettered out of existence as the persons were laid to waste in a once thriving city.

The rest of the world watched with dawning horror as they saw their inevitable and untimely end coming on the backs of red-eyed demons from another world.

Above them all stood Vector Prime, who preened in the fiery light of a city being lain to ruin.


The night air was cool against her cheeks as she sat on the hood of Robert Epps' '65 Mustang, her right foot braced against the fender. She idly rubbed at her wrist where Squawktalk had once been affixed to her. The area was a little red and swollen, but otherwise fine. He must have fled just after Epps had sedated her.

That still chafed her.

"Oh, come on, Sammy. Are you ever going to forgive me?" Epps clapped her on her back as he emerged from the gas station they had come to settle at. They were in a little no-name town in Indiana, the night waning around them. In the wake of the attack on Chicago it seemed that everyone across the United States had taken to sheltering in their homes. There were so few people to be seen and those that were hovered over television monitors with horrified fascinations, praying against hope that there might finally be a spark of good news to come from the tragedy.

There wasn't so much as a glimmer of faith for anyone left.

Sam tossed the dark-skinned man a black look, her jaw locked firmly. She jerked in her NASA bomber's jacket, shrugging the fabric farther up her shoulders. Her skin was hot to the touch, but she felt so very cold on the inside. She'd been shivering almost since she awoke from Simmons' sedative-cocktail an hour after it had been injected into her.

No one seemed able to believe that she'd shaken off the drug's affects so quickly.

Epps sighed deeply.

"Look, I didn't have a choice. If I didn't do that you would have," he began only for her to cut her hand sharply between them.

"I would have killed myself." She didn't bother to inject even a hint of emotion into what she had just uttered. That in itself paled the tough-as-nails soldier more than anything else. Her hands clenched as she fought not to give in to the pain in her heart.

Her attention split from him to look out onto the darkened landscape. She had watched a couple non-descript vehicles coming up the rise and felt instinctively that these were the people Rob had been calling ever since they departed the Space Center with two bitching ex-agents in their wake. She didn't know who was more flustered, Simmons at not being able to be a part of their team or Mearing for being saddled with Simmons.

"They know this is a fool's mission? That they're not likely to be going home?"

Epps stood beside her instead of seating himself, stashing some candy bars and energy drinks into the knapsack he'd toted along for their journey. He offered her a Redbull, but she grimaced with a shake of her head. She couldn't stomach anything right now. She didn't know if she'd be able to eat or drink anything again.

"Why do you think I could only get five of them to respond? I know plenty of guys that'll work for the right price, but there ain't no price high enough for most of them to go running into their own deaths." His beefy arms crossed over his chest as he too waited for their reinforcements to arrive.

They didn't speak again as the two other vehicles came rolling up to the station. Three men climbed from the pickup that had seen better years and a smaller two from a grey Chevy Impala that, for all intents and purposes, looked like an unmarked police car.

"Who's the woman?" The biggest of the newcomers inquired gruffly, already pulling Epps into one of those classic one-armed man hugs. It was always amusing to see men greet each other. All flexing muscles and back slapping. They hated to appear sentimental and girly even amongst their friends.

"This is Sam. She is…was the Liaison and Ambassador for the Autobots. She's been around since day one in Mission City." A glint of respect bloomed in some of the men's eyes at that. She hoped they hadn't thought she was a prissy-footing little girl just along for the ride, but she had to admit that it was rare to see a woman her age willingly involved in something as extreme as alien warfare. There were very few women soldiers in N.E.S.T..

"Sam, this is Hardcore Eddie." Epps gestured towards the titan of a man who wore scars like a second skin. The next man was almost as large as Eddie, but not quite. "Tiny is over there next to the Puerto Rican man, Stackhouse. Shit, Rakishi, I didn't think you'd come."

"Nothing else to do," a raven-haired Asian man snorted, swinging himself back into the seat of the Impala. He obviously wasn't one for tedious introductions.

"And last is the brooding bastard, Ames. He used to be in a special task force in Cairo. Not someone you want to mess with." Epps finalized the greeting by turning back towards the driver's seat of his own car. Sam hefted herself off the hood, her body feeling older than time itself. "Let's move. We're wasting valuable time. Sunrise is right around the corner and we need to be at the edge of the city before we're too easily spotted."

Taking one final look at the bland, unabashedly average scenery, the blonde eased herself into the mustang, carefully tucking her braid up and high to pin it close to her scalp. It would be heavy, but where they were going she would need to keep it out of her way.

Whether H.G. Wells had predicted so or not, his cult classic of War of the Worlds had come to be a reality and there was a very real possibility that the human race would not be able to survive the final stand.


There was a flashback of sorts that she underwent as they coasted up I-65 into Chicago. Eight years ago Bumblebee, before she had even known that was his name, had deposited she and Mike off in a darkened cemetery to await the arrival of the other Autobots. It had been a blustery cold night and they'd been two kids half out of their minds with worry for what was to come. There had been no sounds there besides the whistling wind and chirping katydids.

Chicago had been turned into its own rotting graveyard.

She could see the warships, the great battle cruisers, coasting in the sky like darkly coated weather balloons. The skyline was butchered. Buildings were either missing or deformed, half of their mass crumbled at their foundations. In the distance, very few choked off screams of misery echoed hauntingly. Whorls of machinery thundered through the cavernous holes left by the marauding Horde.

Epps pulled over and the others followed suit. Sam slipped from the relatively 'safe' confines of the vehicle and stood in the early morning air. Smoke. The smell of smoke and oil burned in her nostrils. Ashes blew towards her on the breeze, some leaving sooty tracks against her cheeks.

There was a hazy glow around the city, courtesy of the pillars Vector Prime had elevated to the highest peak to charge safely away from prying human hands. They had the power on their own to create small jump portals, such as from the moon to Earth's surface, but they needed to be anchored to the planet and granted a consistent fuel source such as the Sun's rays in order to do as the disgraced Prime intended for it to do.

She could see how so many could have been fooled by its beauty. Had she not known its cause she might have wondered at its splendor.

"The readouts show no abnormal spikes in radiation," Stackhouse grumbled as he fiddled with his meter. His face was pensive as he looked forward and then back down. "The glow isn't…"

"It's from the pillars," she explained curtly, not bothering to turn back towards the men to address them. "They've created a kind of canopy over the city. A bubble. When nothing moves in and out of the portal it's created, it just amplifies and builds power since it's not being expended. Five hours, six on the offshoot, and there'll be enough power here and in the others around the world to break a rift in time and space."

"A rift?" Rakishi mumbled, coming to stand beside her. He looked where she looked as though he could see as she saw.

"Vector Prime is using this planet as an anchor to pull Cybertron through to our solar system."

"But that's suicide!" Hardcore Eddie shouted, his brown eyes burning with anger. "He's going to destroy everyone and everything! Look what the moon does to the tides and that's just a glorified rock caught in our gravitational pull."

"He is mad," she agreed without repentance. "He was mad when he first made his allegiance with Megatron. He's a megalomaniac. He believes that he's saving his world as Primus ordained him to do and he will slay anyone that stands in his way. Guiltless or otherwise."

"Just what the Earth needs…another zealot." Epps took up position on her other side. The expression he wore warned her that she would not like the words he was about to speak. "We can't go into that, Sam. I'm sorry. I don't know what I thought it would be, but we can't go in there."

"That's where you're wrong." She raised her left hand and settled it onto his shoulder. A tender smile rose upon her lips. "I can go…and I will. Thanks for the ride, Epps."

"Sam, no!" But she was already running, her dancer's legs carrying her surely and swiftly towards the city. The five men cried out after her, their footfalls heavier than her own. She paid them no heed, instead vaulting over obstacles as though they were mere stepping stones. For the first time since waking, her heart lifted a fraction and adrenaline kicked in.

From behind, in between peals of grunted curses, Ames yelled; "incoming!"

Her feet skidded in dirt and rubble as a Fighter sailed around the next block, his double-barreled plasma cannons aimed in her general direction. First her ass and then her back collided with the ground as she switched gears from all-ahead-full to tuck-tail-and-run. Air burst from her chest painfully as she struck a stray brick wrong. She could all but hear the crack in one of her ribs as it happened.

The ground spit and sizzled as the cannons open fired – geysers of alien design. Her knee-jerk reaction was to cover her face and that's what she did. There was no time to rise and flee. There was no direction to move as she had landed hard between two overturned garbage trucks. She had only enough room to cower.

Her terrified wail ceased abruptly as wind whistled over her head, heat emanating from it, and a teeth-rattling explosion came from the direction of the Fighter. With wide eyes she watched the Fighter and its pilot lose all control and spin rapidly in the air, still in a forward motion.

Unfortunate as it was, that forward motion kept the thrice-damned jet on a collision course with her body. Any abortive attempt she might have made was snatched from her shaking fingers as she was plucked up from her right and jettisoned to her left, dozens of feet away from where the Fighter was doomed to crash.

"Who?" She whispered out loud, her eyes boggling to see a recently familiar face crouched above her. "Soundwave!"

:: My Precious One. :: The Communications Officer and ex-General purred down to where he clutched her in his two clawed servos. His face dropped lower until he could nuzzle his jagged cheekplate into her shuddering body.

"You're supposed to be keeping an eye on Megatron and Vector Prime!" She accused, beating his denta and nasal bridge with her fists recklessly. Irritation burned in her gut when mirth tickled over his line and lightened her own sour disposition against her will.

"Fuck! Optimus?!" Epps' voice carried to her on the wind as heavy treds drew near to where she lay so securely in the Decepticon's grasp. One of said 'Con's digits caressed her lovingly when she didn't actively attempt to kick it away from her.

"Hey hey hey, waaaaiiiiit a damned minute! You're supposed to be dead!" Hardcore Eddie screeched in a narrowly girly way.

"Not hardly, fleshling," Ironhide grumbled, backhanding the 'Con holding her 'gently' so that he could get a better view of her. Relief crushed the brutish 'Bot when he saw that she wasn't unduly harmed, though Soundwave kicked the mech in his abdominals in retaliation for having touched his frame. The black mech stumbled away in shock. "That plan of yours was difficult for my tanks to process, Sweetspark. We will not be doing that again."

"Plan?!" Now Epps was the one shrieking. "For the love of God, would somebody please let me know what's going on here? You guys died!"

"You have a lot to learn about us, Sergeant." Ratchet shouldered the Weapon's Specialist out of his way, but could not dislodge her from Soundwave. The 'Con held onto her possessively, his optics darkening to burgundy as his covetous anger spiked.

"Do not attempt to take Her from me, Autobot." It was more of a promise than a warning. That one claw never ceased to stroke her, but she could hear pieces of his armor shifting, readying for a battle that none of them should be fighting.

As the two stood off against each other, Optimus explained for the other humans. For her part, she was reaching out through the bonds to sooth the two mechs who were at an impasse. She physically stretched out as though she were a child with 'gimme' hands towards Ratchet simply to calm the 'Con down and trick his protective processor into releasing her to a perceived friend.

"Samantha allied herself with Soundwave on the night of Vector Prime's betrayal. With his help, we were able to formulate a plan to deceive the Decepticons into believing we were no longer a threat and showing Earth's governing officials that our enemy will never stop at just one. It was, as you would call it, killing two birds with one stone."

Sam groaned as the 'Con cradling her pivoted so that she was further distanced from them medic. She felt like a teddy-bear caught in a tug-of-war between two combative children. It was her fervent hope that she didn't end up getting ripped in two.

"But Sam…she…you couldn't have faked that kind of pain!" Epps stood beneath her now, his arms crossed stubbornly. He was not in the least bit happy about what had just happened and his stance spoke volumes to that affect.

"I didn't fake it," she hissed at the 'Con when he didn't immediately release her to her own two feet. She reached inward and pulled at the Allspark's power, urging it out through her pores to jolt the Communications Officer. His optics blazed as he resisted the minor pain at first before relenting when she only notched the internal dial higher and higher. If nothing else, she was a persistent little human.

Returned to her own feet, though shadowed by the silver 'Con, she held herself gingerly to relieve the ache from the crack of her rib. "Squawktalk released an electrical shock to my nervous system as soon as Starscream struck the Xanthium's core. The pain was necessary as Soundwave wasn't the only one charged with spying. There were too many others that would have seen if I didn't have any reaction."

"So where'd they go if not into that ship?" Ames spoke up for the second time since meeting him. His dark face was pensive. "Why all the cloak and dagger shit?"

"The Matrix of Leadership had been in my possession for several days. It's a manifestation of the Allspark and can do some pretty nifty things – such as opening portals without an excess of discharge that couldn't be explained away by the ignition of an Energon core. They were only on the ship long enough to set a destination. An A.I. had the launch taken care of." She passed the man a sidelong look. "As for the smoke and daggers? What else was I to do? There were too many eyes watching to pull anyone else into the know and after the Xanthium's attack it was a moot point."

"Why in the fuck are we here, then?" Hardcore Eddie grumble, irate now. He gestured angrily towards the assembled Cybertronians. Not all of them were present in this one place, she knew. Others would be scoping out the city and trying to survey for the best point of entry. She could feel their bright spots out there amidst the black hole that the Horde left in Chicago with their presences.

Her brows furrowed when she felt tendrils of awareness grasping for her, some almost desperately. Their processors were shutting the action down and keeping them from making contact, but she knew that they felt her there. They wanted her. They yearned for her. There were hundreds of them in this city and over three-quarters of them were in desperate want of reconnecting with their Mother-power. They wanted to belong home again more than they needed their next breath, so to speak.

Maybe that was exactly what they needed…

"Are you even listening, kid?" Eddie stomped towards her with a hard face. She wouldn't have shrunk back from him even if Soundwave didn't stomp his left ped between them. Eddie threw up his arms in exasperation. "If you knew they were going to be here to help this whole time, why call out to us? We're going to die here!"

"You die here or there, Eddie." She glared at the rest of them. "You had the option of not answering your phone when Epps called. You had the option of telling him to go jump off a bridge, staying at home with your families, and watching as the world as we know it is destroyed. Even if the Autobots are able to stop Vector Prime, do you really think there won't be a fallback for what he's done? You knew that going into this.

"Now, you have two choices. You can get back in your cars and go back home or you can come with us like you intended to do in the first place…only this time you'll have some Cybertronian muscle at your back. Your call."

Leaving them to make their own decisions without undue pressure from her, Sam moved herself towards the Fighter and the onlining being she could feel inside of its cockpit. Soundwave barked out a low-frequency rumbling growl reminiscent of an engine revving, but her catering to his mood swings wasn't on her to-do list.

"Leave 'im alone, Lass." Leadfoot chided her, attempting to cut her off from her present destination. "He's dangerous. Let us 'andle 'im."

"Step aside," she ordered the head of the Constructor trio. The upward hatch of the battered Fighter hissed as clutching purple servos, the digits somewhere between claw-like and rounded, gripped at the opening. The 'Con from within pulled himself upwards and out, thermal-blasters charged and aimed in their direction mounted on his dorsis, but peeking out over his shoulderplates. His visor flashed on and off in his struggling attempts to stay online.

"Stand down, please," she ordered the 'Con firmly, walking around the 'pudgy' 'Bot that had attempted to waylay her. She raised her hand, palm upward, in offering to the rattled purple Decepticon. She followed his line from the Allspark to him. It hadn't blackened with malevolence or decay. It was merely grey, tired and alone, waiting to be dusted off and used again. "Will you come?"

A questioning chirp popped from the 'Con's vocalizer followed by a stream of Cybertronian – a sub-dialect reminiscent of the poorer districts of an older Cybertron. She smiled at him, taking several more steps closer. By now she was scantly thirty feet away from the downed ship.

"Come to me," she urged him, tugging at his line. His whole frame jerked in surprise before he chittered excitedly. With new energy he scurried from the depths of the Fighter and rushed before her. The hand she upheld he pressed a digit into. The image of a newborn gripping its mother's finger flared in her mind, but in this case it was he that was the newborn and she the mother.

Vortex. His name is Vortex.

Vortex warbled in a high-keening cry. His servos flexed jerkily as he restrained himself from gathering her up into his worshipful grasp. In return she shushed him, cooing verbally and through the newly formed bond. She snuffed out the urge to placate and sub-serve as gently as she could, not wanting to hurt him, but also not willing to be the alter he prayed upon. She was as fallible as he and she would not be hailed as some sort of supreme being.

She touched his facial plating as he had prostrated himself so low above her. She looked up into his visor earnestly, expressing her own needs to him non-verbally.

"Are you with us now? Are you with me?"

"Yes, Samantha," he spoke for the first time in English. She had a sense of his optics shuttering in rapture. "You lead. I follow."

"Very good," Sam praised, her heart a little lighter now.

"How'd she do that?" Tiny murmured more to himself than to anyone else. He eyeballed she and the 'Con with lighting hope. "Can you do that to others?"

"Yes," she replied instantly and without subterfuge. The big man assessed her words with all the accuracy of a scientist dissecting a bug under a microscope before he grinned cheekily.

"Well then, that's a whole other story. I'm game. The way I see it, if any of the big baddies come callin' we can just sick her on them!" He winked to let her know that he didn't really believe what he had just stated – at least not to the extent in which he'd phrased himself.

The other men, Epps included, took a few more minutes of contemplating before sighing and nodding their ascent. They were in.

"The Decepticons are turning Chicago into a fortress. They are trying to keep prying eyes out." Sideswipe rolled around them all with his brother, the two keeping their backs to the group so that they wouldn't befall a sneak attack by the Horde. "We need an aerial view."

As one, she and Vortex glanced towards the damaged Fighter.

"Wreckers? How long would it take you to fix that?"

"Give or take two and a half hours." Topspin replied automatically. There was temporary stillness before he accusingly vented, "you are not thinking of taking that piece of scrap metal into the sky!"

"You said you could fix it," she shot back.

"I meant Vortex." The two shot daggers at each other through their optics, red versus blue, and Sam understood not for the first time what it felt like for a mother to have two bickering children.


She felt like she was a little kid again sitting on her daddy's lap on the riding tractor as she leaned back into Vortex's abdominal plates with her head barely scraping the underside of his chassis. She couldn't see over the flight console sitting and the 'Con got physical whenever she attempted to stand.

"Not safe," he rumbled at her, pressing his right servo down and over her thighs to keep her pinned before returning back to the controls.

"I need to see, dammit!" Her body jolted when a holographic screen fizzled into existence before her, a replica of everything the mech would be able to see through the view-screen.

"We are nearing the building Vector Prime chose for anchoring the primary pillar. I will maintain our course as best I can without drawing undue attention." The Fighter rocked roughly as a nearby building was pointlessly struck by another Fighter's projectiles. Vortex didn't so much as flinch, but she frowned fiercely at the sight.

"All of this destruction is pointless."

"It is," the 'Con agreed readily, more stoic than he had been before when she'd Bonded with him. He'd broken character, which seemed more commonplace than not. Soundwave for instance was an entirely different mech when communicating with her compared to all others. "We do as we are ordered, however."

"Megatron is having you do this? Senselessly?"

"No. It is Vector Prime. He wishes to show that brute force will be used for any infraction by your human race and all others who oppose his will." He petted her on instinct, washing calm down through their line. "Lord Megatron…he has changed since The Fallen was destroyed. He is unlike I have ever known him, though older mechs than I say that he is returning to operating as he had in the earlier times of Cybertron."

Memories of his behavior in their shared dreams flashed in her mind's eye. He wasn't the deranged beast she had been introduced to in Mission City nor the one that had tortured her with the intent of making her his pet before Egypt. While he still called her 'Pet', she had the genuine impression that it was an endearment he used expressly for her. It was not derogatory in the slightest. Not anymore.

As they banked around one of the nearby buildings to Trump Tower, though not drawing so close as to draw notice, Vortex aimed the pivoting sensors of the Fighter towards the two gargantuan sentries atop the building. Vector Prime was as blasé as he'd ever been and, curiously, Megatron hung behind. She'd never in a million years peg Megatron as being second-class, but standing beside Vector he appeared sufficiently cowed.

Audio came through the cockpit. It was static-ridden, but understandable.

"The city is secure," Megatron rumbled in that growling voice of his she'd learned not to hate. She, guiltily, welcomed the steadiness and surety of it just as she adored Optimus's voice. There was something calming in each of their voices that eased all tension from her back knot by knot.

"Very soon the pillars will have obtained the necessary power levels to open the portal." The so-called Prime surveyed the torn-apart city with a cool eye. Ever the sneering jackal prancing over his eviscerated prey.

"Here is the victory I promised you vorns ago, Vector Prime. We will rebuild Cybertron together." Megatron was undoubtedly eager. His tone was lighter than she'd ever heard it before. He was exhilarated.

Vector Prime gave no warning of his impending movement. There was no physical tell and so all three of them were taken aback when the bigger mech whirled around and backhanded the Decepticon leader across his helm. Megatron's stance faltered, but Vector was still moving. The old mech's red servo clenched tightly onto the 'Con's throat. A vented whirl interspersed with a mechanical squeal erupted from Megatron at the abrupt hold.

Vector swung the silver titan's entire frame over the side of the building effortlessly. At that height, provided the mech couldn't obtain a foothold, he'd die if dropped. Thirteen-hundred feet at their present location was enough to kill even bigger mechs.

Megatron clawed at Vector Prime's wrist ineffectually. Madman though he was, Vector Prime was still one of the strongest Cybertronian combatants that she had even had the misfortune of meeting.

"I have deigned to work with you, youngling, so that our planet may survive. Never will I work for you." He pulled the mech in closer so that they were nasal-plate to nasal-plate. Both of their optics glowed with heightened emotion. "You would do well to remember that."

Megatron was swung again, this time back onto the building. Vector Prime threw the massive mech into the walls that concealed the stairwell back inside Trump Tower causing the metal and stone to respectively bend and crack. The Decepticon leader pulled himself from the crater he'd made from his own body, a decidedly darkened look in his optics.

He had been bitch-slapped and he knew it.

Vortex steered them out of sight with a hearty snarl, his loyalty to his leader still lingering to a degree, when Vector Prime casually turned his optics their way. Megatron moved to stand beside his 'ally' once more, but it was a habitual behavior…and stubbornness. Starscream was notorious for backing down and taking the coward's way out, but the true 'Lord Megatron' would never bow down to another. He would not stand to be second-fiddle.

Whether he knew it or not, Vector Prime had hit the last nail into his own coffin by doing what he had just done to the Decepticon leader.

…And she wasn't fool enough to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

"Swing back to the others, Vortex," she urged her co-pilot. Her brows lowered in thought as she surveyed nearby buildings. Her fingers thumped against the holographic screen, its 'surface' suddenly dense enough to touch without her finger ghosting through, as she fanned through still-shots of the area surrounding the tower. One building was as horrifying as it was promising.

"I have a plan."


"That's your plan?!" Hardcore Eddie thundered, his expression textbook for thunderstruck. He pointed accusingly towards the precariously tilted building she intended for them to enter and ascend. "I have better odds of winning mousetrap against my nieces and nephews than we have of getting up that thing alive!"

"Why not another building?" Epps inserted the question semi-helpfully, frowning fiercely at the Galileo Building. Ironic that the man it was named for used to drop objects from the leaning tower of Pisa to test his theory of gravity. Now it, too, leaned. No, lean was too sober a comparison. This building was more crooked than a barrel of fish hooks.

As soon as they had landed she'd urged the others to hop into the Autobots' terrestrial forms. Soundwave had vacated the immediate area of where the Autobots had bunkered down while Vortex took her skyward, but she sensed he was near and primed for battle. He was no idle mech. Vortex, at her urging, had returned to the air in his Fighter. He would provide aerial cover for them along with Astrotrain and Jetfire, whom both clung to the outer reaches of the city. The two were attacking and downing ships, but they were diverting attention more than they were actively attempting a full assault.

They had moved as quickly as they dared to the Galileo Building, but it was imperative that they not be seen. The Wreckers had handed off a single-shot missile to her when they arrived at the building before hurrying off in another direction. The missile was something they had worked on with Wheeljack. That partnership was the only reason she carried the deadly assault weapon now. Wheeljack's inventions were notorious for being unstable and self-detonating.

The missile-launcher was slightly smaller than the Big Boar she'd fired only two days prior, but packed a hell of a lot stronger punch. The missile inside could be shot a staggering distance of thirteen city blocks and maintain steady accuracy and speed. After that the concussion would be less effective and the trajectory could be altered more easily. A strap had been fitted to the thing which she slung between her breasts so that the launcher was laid across her back.

The others fled as soon as their human cargo had dismounted. She had briefed them all using private comms, but the building she'd chosen for their sniper-point was not what they had imagined it to be. The 'Bots knew, having received a visual from Vortex, but even though they disliked it they also knew not to question her. There was no doubt that they would fight for her and even against her if they thought that there was another way to achieve their ends without endangering her, but on matters where she had a clear foothold they submitted to her authority.

Just barely, she thought as discord thrummed through the bonds. There wasn't a single one of them that wasn't as nerved up as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"Look, I already explained this. We can't get a clear shot at the control pillar from the ground and we're more likely to be found out if we go into one of the other buildings that are still standing. They're not going to look for us here simply because the human preservation instinct keeps us away from unsound structures."

"S'not stopping us, apparently," Tiny muttered, fisting his beefy hands several times in agitation.

"Look, if we try and use Vortex's Fighter we're going to get shot out of the sky quicker than you can blink. The way I see it this is the most inconspicuous spot I can think of. Of anyone has any better ideas speak now before the rest of our allies leave to distract the Horde."

By that point all of the Autobots with the exception of Bumblebee and Optimus had fled to serve as decoys. They, too, would leave them to do what they had to in order to destroy the pillar, but only after they had retreated into the severely leaning building. Already she could hear sporadic gunfire peaking in the distance.

No one spoke up.

"Then let's get moving." Before they could push through the cracked glass doors, however, a UAV spiraled out of the sky, one of its wings smoking from a sidelong hit from one of the enemy forces. It skidded across the asphalt leaving a metallic smear across the blackened surface.

"Hey, that's one of N.E.S.T.'s." Epps darted up beside the UAV and began to fiddle with some of the wires. His grimace was real when it continued to spit sparks at him. "Shit. They're watching us, but we have no way to communicate with them."

"We don't need to," she inserted, gently urging the dark-skinned man away from the drone. She looked at the other men and spoke sternly, "I'm putting my trust in you that you'll keep your mouth shut about what you're about to see."

With the two 'Bots keeping watch for incoming hostiles, Sam set her hands onto the main hub of the UAV. She used the Allspark's power to repair the minor damage to the wing, human metal shifting as though it were sentient, and then pushed through the networking software. Pain swirled in her guts to use the Allspark's power even on something so small when, up until that point, she'd been concentrating it on amplifying the intrinsic abilities of the nanites in her bloodstream. That small shift in focus had cost her greatly.

:: Blurr? :: Pain equivalent to a pickaxe slicing through her skull struck at using the comms. There was an affirmative response to her hail and so she continued. :: Can you connect to the other UAV's from the one I have in my possession? I can't do it myself. I need you to get every one of them airborne in this city broadcasting what they film across the world. If we survive this, the other humans need to see that not every Cybertronian is aiming to destroy this world. Scramble the background so the Decepticons don't get a visual queue as to where I am right now. ::

:: I will do so immediately. :: There was a pause in which she thought she might find relief, but Blurr spoke again in a grudgingly agreeable voice. Despite its softness, red splotches of agonized color bloomed like blood splatters in her skull. :: Soundwave has offered assistance in hacking the grids. His aid is required in breaking through the firewalls he established that inhibit electrical recordings throughout this city. ::

The UAV began to elevate under her shaking hands, the camera to its front blinking several times as it began to initiate one of its primary functions. She felt a wetness trickle from her nose and used the back of her hand to brush it away. Blood stained her skin.

Shit.

:: Tally of fourteen UAVs connected and reprogrammed throughout Chicago. Filming to commence broadcast in three seconds…two seconds…one second. ::

Sam stood before the camera as proudly as she could. She straightened her spine despite the pain it caused her in her abdomen and to her cracked rib, and set her shoulders back. She didn't look the least bit presentable with her disheveled clothing and white-out-eye, she was sure, but she would address the humans watching around the globe as the Ambassador she was. She was a fighter. She was the Cybertronian Allspark and belonging now to both races and neither. It was time for her to open the shutters and make everyone look out past their own selfish, sheltered lives.

"My name is Samantha Jane Witwicky," she told the people of Earth, hearing even as she said it her voice echoing from the few operational televisions in nearby businesses and storefronts. "Many of you have seen me before in prior years revolving around the destruction of the USS Lincoln. I have been working alongside the Autobots, a faction of the alien race of Cybertronians that have fought against those that laid siege to Chicago. I tell you now, while I still have breath in my body, that I will do everything in my power to right the wrongs done this day. We will fight for this planet and all of Her people until all are one or we will die trying.

"Take heed, though, that not everything is as it seems. Not all who wander are lost. A man's heart has the capabilities of growing, changing, and adapting. I beg of you, should we succeed this day, not to shut out those that seek redemption. We are One."

With that final thought she pumped up the juice, spiking Allspark power into the UAV until it altered shape once more. Its outer shell turned black and metal jettisoned out to make it look distinctly sharper. It rocketed into the sky and away, a hybrid propulsion system making it whistle through the air at high speeds. It would swing around the city, constantly communicating with the other UAVs, and monitor what happened from that point forward. If they could stay out of the way of the Horde and avoid destruction they would show the world what they were all fighting for, human and alien.

"Sam," Epps whispered over her shoulder. While the others were watching the metamorphosed UAV dart out of sight, the Major was focused intently on her. "Sam, you're not looking good right now."

:: Sweetspark? :: Was Optimus's tentative call in her head.

She couldn't control herself after that. She clenched her teeth to help redirect her pain from the comm-contact into anger. She whirled on the two mechs, stumbling as she did so. Epps caught her on reflex.

"Stop. Stop stop stop!" She struggled out of Epps's arms and felt her back thump against the glass door. Worry and apprehension bombarded her through the bonds. 'Bee even leaned forward as though to pick her up. She shook her head. "Go! You need to leave right now. The longer you both stand here the more likely you are to draw attention."

They weren't happy with the command. She felt it down to her bones. She wouldn't renege on what she'd said, though. She knew she'd falter and cave under their scrutiny and so she slipped into the building instead.

There was a finite amount of time to do what needed to be done with the Earth and Cybertron alike were to be saved.