"I wish to thank you Mr. Prime, for your service to our country and our planet." The woman on screen was a brunette, strong-jawed and intelligent, yet her eyes shone with genuine gratitude and compassion.
"The Autobots are glad to help, Mrs. President," the Prime said, optics reflecting the presidents image.
"And I would also like to thank your civilian helpers." The President smiled at the humans in question. All the children stood (with the exception of Jack, who was still bed-ridden) straight and tall beside their guardians, who all assumed a soldier's stance. June was over in the medical area beside Ratchet, who was ready to be at her side should assistance be needed.
"Not only did you save the life of the current inter-species liaison," she went on. "But you also stood strong in the face of danger, numerous times if my readings are correct."
"It is regrettable that any person should be injured in this war, may they be Autobot…or human." Her eyes drifted over the bots numerous injuries that the bots sported before drifting over to Jack. "Know that you sacrifices never go unnoticed. No matter how despicable some humans may act." Her brown eyes hardened before softening once more.
"The day this war is over, the Autobots and any other Cybertronian you deem worthy shall not only have the gratitude of America's people, but the equal status given to any other human born within our borders."
Optimus bowed his head slightly. "Your words fuel our determination to end this war, Mrs. President. We would be honored to have the chance to one day walk among you."
"Believe me, Mr. Prime. The honor is all mine. And rest assured, our justice system will make sure that the man who calls himself Silas will never again see the light of day."
The screen went blank and the Autobots relaxed, breaking rank to go spend time with their human charges. Bulkhead and Miko roared out of base, no doubt to do something loud and possibly destructive. Raf and Bumblebee disappeared into the base proper, while Arcee and Jack poured over what appeared to be a map of Jasper. June busied herself in datapads about Cybertronian bodies, while Ratchet worked on several projects at once, including Fowler's new hand.
Overseeing it all, Optimus allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. He had not lied to the president; he ached for the day where he and his troops could be themselves around the populace and their friends.
No, he thought turning to a computer to resume another search for energon. One day we shall walk not along friends, but family.
Silas awoke to the sound of tearing metal. The confined space he was in lurched violently.
He appeared to be in a helicopter, judging by the sound of blades slicing through the air overhead. Except now the strong thundering was louder than ever. Either the door was open or…
"What's going on?" One of his guards shouted to the cockpit. He was met with the body of his comrade crashing through the space separating the cockpit from the main body. The other three soldiers jumped up and drew their weapons. Or at least tried to. An enormous black blur erupted from the cockpit, and a second later, two men crumbled to the helicopter floor. One landed on his stomach, but his face continued to face completely around, his glazed eyes boring a hole into the roof. The other fell to the floor with no head at all.
The third soldier was seized by the scuff of his uniform as main door was forced open by what appeared to be a suit-wearing giant. Silas caught glimpse of what appeared to be a small plane diving by before the last soldier was forced after it.
The suited man half-turned and tore the bonds that kept Silas captive to shreds. Before he could protest, the gorilla of a man grabbed Silas by the neck and launched the both of them out of the helicopter. With no parachute.
The powerful pressure on his neck prevented the former MECH leader from yelling (he would never admit to screaming). The sky stretched and twisted like a melting crayon, and the cold stinging wind burned his eyes and forced him to close them. His captor was spread out in the standard skydiving X, but he still held Silas's neck in a vise-like grip, forcing the prisoner's back in an uncomfortable angle that made his broken ribs scream in pain.
From Silas's view, he could see the plane from several seconds ago wheeling around and rushing up toward them. Then it was passing them and Silas and his companion's descent with a painful jerk. The air began whistling in the terrorist's ears even more as they began to rise at a rapid rate. It was beyond him how the giant could even keep his hold, as he could now see that the suit had one enormous hand grasping a rail by the small plane's cockpit.
A door must have opened, or maybe the giant had opened it himself. Either way, Silas suddenly found himself out of the roaring wind and freezing air and in a warm and luxurious cabin.
"Mr. Silas." Still trying to get his bearings after so many shifts in environment, Silas almost missed the man's greetings. He was tall and muscular, with dark blue eyes and brown hair. His teeth gleamed, and he held a thin glass of champagne in one hand. His voice was calm, despite the need to make himself heard over the rushing wind in the still open plane door.
With his right hand, the man snapped his fingers. "Harrison, the door please." The giant, who had somehow moved his bulk from Silas's side around the relatively small cabin to stand at his master's side, moved once more to the plane door. He reached out and slammed it shut. To Silas's ears, it sounded as if someone had slammed the door shut on his very soul. Nevertheless, he retained his military discipline and struggled to his feet, ignoring the agony in his side.
"Who are you?"
The man eyes twinkled, but not in a good way. "I believe you might have met me before, more than once. I did help fund your pursuits after all."
Silas's eyes widened. "You're Corkscrew?" he blurted out, before composing himself. This shouldn't have surprised him. A lot of rich people indulged in odd practices. He was just surprised that he would be meeting one of his funders in the flesh. Every other time, it had been via computers, with a voice-changer and no visual connection. The feeling of dread returned to him.
"Ah, yes. Fitting name, isn't it? Funny I believe, since I was funding you while you still stole from me."
"Kessler," Silas breathed. He knew who this man was now, nearly everyone did. The man was one of the richest in the world. Known for his famous acting, Kessler had created an inventing company, and now was practically on top of the world. It was rumored that Kessler was now serving numerous military forces around the world, despite being based in the U.S. It was enormous controversial issue.
It had really been an ingenious idea: siphon off small amounts of money from different companies into numerous foreign accounts before creating temporary and fake U.S. accounts and wiring the money back in the country. Kessler had been one of many unwilling and supposedly unknowing donors. It appeared that MECH had been wrong about the unknowing part.
Kessler smiled winningly. "Please, Mr. Bishop. Sit down and have a drink. You must be exhausted after your journey."
Though his face remained impassive, his body broke out in a sweat. How the devil did this pampered rich-boy know who he was? Struggling to remain calm, he intoned "I'd rather not."
Kessler's smile widened, but it's humor did not reach his eyes. "No, Mr. Bishop. Sit down. I insist."
Before Silas could say a word, Harrison moved once again before the former soldier could follow him with his eyes. The world flipped upward and Silas was all but thrown into a comfortable armchair.
"Now was that so hard? Thank you, Harrison."
The giant responded by taking his spot beside his employer silently.
"Now down to business." Kessler finished his drink and poured himself another. "Champagne?"
"No, thank you." Silas responded stiffly. "I'd rather like to get down to business, as you said."
Kessler laughed. "Right down to business. That's what I liked about you."
Silas's eyes narrowed. "Liked?"
Kessler smirked. "Liked. You see, military type don't seem to ever follow orders. Such as when I ordered you not to continue to pursue this little Cybertronian search of yours."
"I'm afraid the connection was rather disrupted that day." Silas said coolly. Yet his eyes flickered from Harrison to the door, and back to Kessler.
"But it was not bad enough for you to connect into the Westmore executive account and take over a hundred thousand from their manager's account. Good job by the way. Westmore CEO was a rival in high school.
"Luckily, your systems encryptions aren't as powerful as you'd like to believe. Thank you so much for making it wireless. It truly helped my electric bill. But I'm rambling now. The point is that I must personally thank you for bringing a person of interest to my attention. I feel that he will be integral to my plans."
"Who?" Silas demanded. Kessler ignored him.
"Of course, he will be replacing you. But you should be proud. Under my guidance he will help me change the world. That's what you wanted isn't it?"
"I will be changing the word by being in command of it." Silas snarled. He was starting to lose his cool now. His dark eyes were darting around the plane cabin like a Ping-Pong ball.
Kessler looked at him in mock pity as he drained his glass. "You service was a welcome amusement, Mr. Bishop. But all good things eventually end, and I feel like moving on to another game."
Silas seized the champagne bottle and smashed it against the cabin wall, spraying liquor all over the cabin, and creating a crude weapon. "You want to get rid of me?" he yelled. "Fight me like a man!"
Kessler looked at him bemused. Shrugging his shoulders he carefully placed his empty glass on a tray, which was immediately taken away by Harrison. "Harrison, ask the pilot about our ETA."
The giant bowed in the cramped space and disappeared into the large door behind him that led to the cockpit. Kessler's eyes followed him, and then Silas struck.
The sharp glass tore Kessler's neck on the side. Blood spurted out and mixed with the champagne on the white carpet. Silas seized the bleeding man's head and smashed it into the wooden table-once, twice three times, then released him. Breathing heavily, Silas did not allow himself time to rest. He began to cast his eyes around for a parachute. He dropped down and searched under the table and chair for the device, then snarled as his search proved fruitless.
He started to scramble to his feet, but froze, paralyzed by an unbelievable sight.
His eyes slowly traveled from the bloodstained shoes, up the darkened pants wet with blood, over the ripped shirt that had been torn in the fight, and stopped at Kessler's bored and obviously alive face.
"Are you done yet?"
Silas's throat convulsed but no sound came from his raw throat.
Kessler gave a care free shrug and a boyish grin. "I believe it's my turn then."
The air itself seemed to slam into Silas's chest and he was suddenly off the floor and against a wall. Before he could slide down, a powerful hand kept him pinned against the padded cabin siding.
Kessler seized him by the neck and with fluid twist, lifted the terrorist up in the air and slammed him on the table. His strength was so great, the table shattered and the cabin shook with the force of Silas's body hitting the floor.
Kessler chuckled and with a twitch of his hand, sent Silas hurtling towards the ceiling. With a nasty crunch, Silas hit the ceiling and blood spurted out of his nose. He fell once more to the floor and lay still, gasping through the blood on his face.
Silas struggled to move, but the pain in his ribs was too great, and he almost passed out. Kessler's face swam in and out of view. "You're-you're not human." He managed to croak out.
"No." Kessler hooked his index finger on Silas's shirt, and slowly, effortlessly, lifted the convict of the floor again. Blue eyes met dark bloodshot ones. "I am a member of humanities next stage. Humanity will soon be wiped out, unfortunately. And I intend to make sure their extermination is complete."
"Good bye, Mr. Bishop. Your life will oil the gears of a new war. But it will not be in your species favor."
Kessler raised his left hand so that it was level with Silas's forehead. A serrated blade ripped out of his hand, tearing the flesh between the knuckles of the middle and ring finger. It tore through Silas's skull, and emerged out the back. Silas's eyes rolled back, and he released a single choking cry before his jaw went slack. Kessler wiggled the blade a bit before slowly pulling it out, releasing the grating, cracking sound and feel of the skull against his blade, before releasing the dead man's body. The blade disappeared into his body once.
"Harrison", he called mildly.
The silent bodyguard appeared by his side instantaneously.
Kessler gestured to Silas's body. "Take out the trash. And call Eliza. Have her inform the servants that I expect a new clean suit out and ready."
Harrison nodded, and bent down to scoop up the corpse. Kessler, already bored, picked up a remote from the seat of his chair and settled down, propping his feet up. The cabin rocked as Harrison opened the door, but Kessler gave no mind. He switched on a television screen that had miraculously survived the fight. He pressed a button, and the screen came to life in the form of numerous boxes, all repeating scenes of his new interest in action. He paused the footage of one battle and zoomed in.
"Jackson Darby." He rolled the name in his mouth. It sounded…heroic. Noble. And with enough effort, fear-worthy.
"You outsmarted Silas, boy," he said to no one in particular. "But soon, we'll both see exactly how smart you are.
"After all, I need an apprentice."
And we are DONE! Probably my longest chapter yet. I'd like to thank all who spent time reading this story, and all who supported me through the good, the okay, and the downright cringe-worthy. Not sure when I'll get the sequel up, but rest assured, I'm not going to abandon you for a month or something.
Please review. I already have a plot set for the sequel, but I want to hear others ideas.