Reconnaissance

Cyclonus' ship rose to a high altitude as it travelled over the Nevada desert. Bumblebee, as per his orders from Ultra Magnus, kept it on his scanners whilst working his way along the desert highways and occasionally heading off road. It was almost pitch-black on some of these lonely roads at this time of night, with only the moon and the stars providing any real illumination. Not very many people travelled along these highways this late at night and Bumblebee had so far only had three other vehicles pass him by, all of them trucks presumably moving loads while operating on tight schedules.

The trip had given him plenty of time to think. He had paid a visit to Rafael on his last visit to Earth a few days before. He had been glad to see that young man moving up in the world, working on becoming a physicist on a scholarship program no doubt aided by his connections to Unit-E. As for this business with Cyclonus, Bumblebee felt no trust towards the Decepticon at all. However, unlike Wheeljack's more blatant dislike of the Decepticon, Bumblebee preferred to keep an open mind. Even if Cyclonus was being genuine in wanting peace, it would take a lot of convincing for Bumblebee to buy into it. He was more than happy to see wherever it was Cyclonus had decided to set up camp here on Earth and so he was relieved that the lengthy drive, with the Decepticon General's 'yacht' a small dark blob against the night sky, would likely come to an end soon as the modified scout-ship began to descend. It moved down gradually, taking itself beyond a row of rocky hills in the distance that were very literally situated in the middle of nowhere.

He sent a ping along his comms letting Ultra Magnus know his status and of the ship's descent. Once this was done, he shifted gears and took himself off of the desert highway, kicking up a plume of dirt behind him as he crossed onto the barren desert plains. Dried vegetation was crushed under his wheels as he sped in the direction of the ship. He switched off his headlights as he movied, a means of keeping as low a profile as possible, leaving him to rely more on his sensors for navigation. The beacon Knock Out had slipped onto the General's ship enabled him to keep track of it despite the distances involved and the ship's stealth systems. According to that beacon, the ship had settled somewhere beyond the hills ahead. He was certainly curious to see what kind of operation Cyclonus had made for himself here on Earth and just how many soldiers he had at his disposal.

It took another fifteen minutes for Bumblebee to reach the base of the rocky hills. He transformed, rolling out of his vehicle mode before starting up the nearest hill ahead of him. It was a fairly easy climb, no trouble for a warrior such as him, and he came to the top of it in short order. Ahead, he could make out a large valley below, spreading out for some distance. Within it was Cyclonus' scout-ship, parked at the very bottom with a few Decepticons milling about it on patrol. As for any larger ship or base, Bumblebee could not see any sign.

Is this all he's got? He mused, both surprised and somewhat underwhelmed. He had half-expected to come across an entire legion of Vehicons or something of that sort, as if General Cyclonus was plotting an all out assault against humanity. Maybe he had been telling the truth? For a General. he apparently had very few soldiers at his command.

Bumblebee heard rocks crumble behind him. He turned around, seeing a few small chunks of dirt and rock go rolling down a slope to his left. No one was there, though he knew better than to get complacent. He readied the plasma cannon at his right arm, shifting his hand there into the form of the sleek cannon, one with a short barrel that glowed a brilliant blue. The darkness was thick out here and he found himself relying more on his scanners than his normal eyesight. Any Decepticon with half a brain could have easily thwarted the most basic scanners, but the Autobot had little else at his disposal.

At that moment, a voice rang out from somewhere very close by. He did not recognise it, although it sounded very much like a Decepticon. Raspy and masculine, its tone was a mocking one.

"Is the little Autobot lost?"

Bumblebee looked around, tensing up as he prepared himself for the expected attack. He doubted Cyclonus would take kindly to an Autobot following him all the way back to his encampment. His gaze went to a small slope a short distance to his right where a figure had appeared, one that struck him as strangely familiar. Nothing showed on his sensors and the figure itself was almost as dark as the night.

"Who's there?" He called. He pointed his plasma gun at the figure and stood his ground. Until he knew more about what kind of situation he had fallen into, he would hold back on pulling the trigger. He did not want to jeopardize the possibility for actual negotiation with Cyclonus if that was indeed what the Decepticon really wanted.

There was a glint of something shiny and the figure seemingly disappeared. Bumblebee took a few steps forward, his optics searching around for any trace of the Decepticon (at least, that was what he assumed it was). Like a phantom, the Decepticon had vanished. Am I going crazy?

"You coming here will save me a lot of legwork." The Decepticon spoke again, this time from somewhere close behind him.

No, I'm not going crazy. Bumblebee swivelled around and found himself face-to-face with Shaodwstriker. The Decepticon was about a head taller than him and far bulkier than he was. He leered down at Bumblebee with blazing red optics and a malevolent smirk, with one slightly curved silver blade clutched in one hand. Bumblebee had little chance to react, surprised that this Decepticon had snuck up on him so easily. I must be losing my touch.

He had no chance to fire, since the Decepticon swung the blade with lightning speed. It cleaved the plasma cannon and the rest of Bumblebee's right forearm clean off of his body. The pain was excruciating and the young warrior let out an involuntary yelp, stumbling backwards while his hand and the cannon it had wielded hit the dirt below with a subdued clunk. Bright blue energon fluid gushed out of the cleanly-cut stump like a geyser, dribbling down his arm and trickling onto the ground where it stood a stark contrast to the sand around it. Aside from his optics, it was probably the brightest source of illumination here.

Bumblebee's senses were almost overloaded by the pain. His spark pounded rapidly in his chest yet even now he was beginning to feel a little woozy. Losing so much life-fluid so quickly could to that to a 'bot. As for Shadowstriker, he sheathed his sword at his lower back and grabbed the Autobot by the neck. Bumblebee was faced with the malevolent red optics and for a fleeting moment was convinced that they would be the last thing he saw before he died.

"No death for you," Shadowstriker uttered, as if reading his mind. With his free-hand, he plunged a finger into the stump at Bumblebee's right elbow, sending a shot of agony up his arm and straight into his head. He pulled the finger free quickly, only now it was covered with the bright blue of Bumblebee's energon. The young warrior watched through the haze of pain and wooziness as the Decepticon placed the finger in his mouth, practically licking it clean.

"A single strand of CNA," he said. He dropped Bumblebee to the ground where he fell onto his knees, his gaze floating back up to Shadowstriker. The Autobot watched, both fascinated and disgusted, as the Decepticon's entire form began to visibly shift. The grey and black armour plating began to fall away, with yellow and black taking its place. Parts of the Decepticon landed around Bumblebee, smeared with traces of energon. Shadowstriker's red optics turned blue and increased in both size and circularity until, within seconds, Bumblebee saw himself looking up into his own eyes.

Shadowstriker had become the spitting image of the Autobot down to the optics, face, colour-scheme and just about everything else.

He spoke again, his voice a perfect emulation of Bumblebee's own.

"Do you like the new me?" He asked. His leering smile was all the more disconcerting, now that he was doing it with Bumblebee's own face. Before the Autobot could say anything in response, Shadowstriker delivered a swift and powerful kick across Bumblebee's head, rendering him unconscious.

It was peaceful out here. Wheeljack sat against the side of the Darby house, watching the night sky above. The backyard was fairly large, comprised mostly of a lawn, a narrow winding brick path and rows of bushes by the fences. A shooting star streaked across the sky overhead, fading almost as quickly as it had appeared. Wafting in across the surrounding desert plains was a gentle breeze, one that rattled the leaves of the nearby shrubs. Wheeljack actually found himself enjoying the quiet for once. Even on Cybertron he had not had much chance for peace such as this. Here on Earth, away from the constant work of reconstructing Cybertron or the threat of Decepticon attack he could sit back and actually enjoy doing nothing. He was usually not one to idle in this manner but for tonight, he could make an exception.

The more he sat here, he realised, the more he wanted to actually stay on Earth. It was funny how things worked out, that when he had been here fighting the Decepticons he had always been keen to leave, to go his own way and fight the Decepticons on his terms. Now, with all that over with and a life of work during peacetime ahead of him, he found himself longing for the way things had been. It was foolish, he thought, to actually want the war back. He had lost enough friends the first time around. Maybe that Taskforce is hiring? It was a fleeting thought, a possibility that he might have been able to capitalise on, that if Decepticons were still showing up on Earth then joining the one group who was fighting them directly might give him something really interesting to do. Then he remembered Colonel Carver and found that he had no desire to work with that man.

He heard the back door of the house swing open and close. Jack came walking up to him, still in his work clothes. Wheeljack looked over to him, smiling warmly.

"Hey, kid," he said.

"Funny how you keep calling me 'kid'," Jack replied, returning the smile. "Now that you mention it, I may only be twenty-five, yet I'm already feeling nostalgic for my childhood. The world's changed a lot since then. Things were simpler."

"Yeah. That's about right." Wheeljack gently pulled one of his katanas from his back, twirling the blade around in one hand while he admired the view over the white fence a short distance in front of him. Beyond it was the very edge of Jasper, Nevada. Nothing but hills and desert and dry vegetation no higher than his ankles.

"You know, the neighbours might see you," Jack said.

"At this hour?" Wheeljack spun the blade about in his hands, juggling it expertly between both. "Unlikely. Everyone's in bed, as you should be."

"You going to be all right out here? Not bored or anything?"

"I'll take a nap," Wheeljack replied. Clutching the sword in one hand, he gently thrust it forward into the empty air in front of him whilst remaining seated. He imagined impaling a Decepticon right there. Dreadwing sprang to mind, a Decepticon he had very much liked to have killed himself given what he had done to Seaspray.

"I'll wake myself up in the morning," he added. "And then I'll take you and Miko out some place nice."

"That's if work doesn't call me," Jack responded.

"Always on call, huh?"

"Yeah. It wasn't like that when I was sixteen. I wasn't part of any 'Unit' or 'Taskforce' then. I'd go in and out of the Autobot base whenever I felt like it."

"Like you said. Things change." Wheeljack slid the katana into place at his back. "Sometimes for the worse."

"Sometimes for the better."

"Usually for the worse," Wheeljack countered. There was a brief silence between the two of them then. Wheeljack wondered what was going on with Bumblebee and the others, whether the young warrior had uncovered any interesting information as to Cyclonus and his location. A seemingly vain Decepticon 'General' would likely have some kind of grand ship or headquarters somewhere. The inside of his modified scout-ship had certainly spoke to what lavish tastes he had. At least Megatron had gone more for functionality instead of aesthetics when it came to his ship design.

"How's Arcee been?" Jack asked. "Do you two see each other a lot?"

"She's like she's always been, kid," Wheeljack answered. He had not seen too much of the Autobot female for some time. Their different lines of work tended to keep them apart. "We work different jobs. She's training recruits while I'm down in the bowels of Iacon putting everything back into working order. But what I do see of her, she's doing well. She'd visit more, if work didn't get in the way."

"Work always gets in the way," Jack said. "For you and for me."

"That makes it even more of a problem when we're on different planets. I've only been back here a day and I'm already liking it more than Cybertron."

"You said earlier it wasn't that bad." Jack's voice was laced with doubt. Wheeljack knew that he may have been making a bigger deal out of the matter than it really was, but sitting here now with no other Autobots around, left to his own thoughts, he found himself leaning more and more towards the more extreme view.

"Maybe not," Wheeljack said after a pause. "I was a soldier, kid. A Wrecker. Not an engineer, not a scientist and sure as hell not a diplomat. The chief dragged me here because he thought this 'negotiation' might help me change my view of the 'Cons. I'll tell you right now it hasn't. You might even say it's had the opposite effect."

"I don't trust Cyclonus either," Jack said. "Neither does Fowler. Not even Colonel Carver thinks he's being genuine, he just thought it'd be better to try a diplomatic solution. But what if Cyclonus is being genuine, Jackie?"

"Then things have changed so much it's like I'm living in a dream-world."

"You'll adapt. We all have to."

Wheeljack nodded. Adapting and improvising was one thing he had prided himself on, the ability to face any situation and tackle it accordingly. However, that was very much in the realms of combat, not diplomacy and certainly not the dirty work he was being given over on Cybertron.

There was a ringing noise then, somewhat muffled as it emanated from a pocket in Jack's trousers. Wheeljack watched him pull out a cell-phone and place it to his ear. Jack listened to the voice on the other end for a moment, one eyebrow becoming raised in some slight bemusement.

"Deadeye?" Jack said into the phone. Wheeljack did not recognize the name, nor was he certain if it even was a name. It sounded like something a Cybertronian might call themselves, he realised, but not any Cybertronian he knew. "You know you're not allowed to call me on this number..." He trailed off as whoever was on the other end interrupted him. "A Decepticon? Alive?"

"They caught a living 'Con?" Wheeljack understood the implications immediately.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Jack ended the call then, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He looked up at Wheeljack, who's curiosity had been suitably piqued upon hearing what had been said.

"Who's Deadeye?" Wheeljack asked.

"That's...an awkward question," Jack answered.

"And he caught a 'Con? Is that what happened?"

"Apparently so." Jack shook his head then, as if he could not quite believe it himself. Wheeljack sensed that maybe that was not the reason for his reaction, if the way he furtively glanced over at the back door of the house was anything to go by. "I need some sleep."

"You can take a nap on the way," Wheeljack said. "I want to meet this 'Deadeye' character."

"That may not be a good idea."

Wheeljack raised an optic ridge. Why was Jack being so secretive all of a sudden? He had thought that their friendship enabled them to be a bit more open to one another.

"Why's that?"

"It's a Taskforce thing," Jack replied. "That's all. They captured a Decepticon and are keeping it detained within their compound."

"And let me guess," Wheeljack said. "They don't want an Autobot like me interfering? Are they gonna interrogate this 'Con or what? Dissect it, even?"

"Dissect it?" Jack shook his head. "That's unlikely."

"You're not giving me much to go on, kid."

"I don't know much about the situation myself. But it's a big enough deal that I'd like to go check it out."

Wheeljack smirked. Jack had, under the assumption that he would have at least one day to himself, brought Wheeljack home and had left his actual, non-Autobot car back at Unit-E headquarters. The sudden change in plan had left Jack in an awkward position, according to what Wheeljack could gather.

"Look, I'll lay low if you want me to," Wheeljack said. "I'll drive you to the compound, drop you off. We can meet up at another time."

Jack nodded in agreement. It was a sound enough plan, though secretly Wheeljack had no intention of 'laying low'. He wanted to check out this 'Taskforce' and see whether or not they were all that they were cracked up to be.

"I'm just worried about what Miko might think," Jack said. "We had plans for tomorrow."

"I'm sure she'll understand." From what Wheeljack had seen of the pair of humans, there was some degree of hostility between them. Maybe 'hostility' is too strong a word, he thought. 'Tension' is probably better. They were not married, but they had been living together for a few years now. Jack's near constant work schedule had put some strain on their relationship. When it came to that sort of thing, Wheeljack was very much out of his element. Long term relationships of that sort were not something he was with. They were usually more trouble than they were worth.

"You go wait for me out front," Jack said. "I'll go tell Miko where we're headed." He started walking for the backdoor before managing one more glance back at Wheeljack. "Wish me luck."

Wheeljack smiled at the comment, yet part of him would have liked to have seen the pair getting along a bit better than they were. Still, his attention was set more on finding out about this business with the Taskforce. Capturing a Decepticon alive was always an interesting, sometimes illuminating, event. It may even shed some light onto Cyclonus' true intentions, something that Wheeljack was certain the Decepticon General was intentionally hiding. Never trust a 'Con.