Fugitives

Captain Van Cleef had seen a lot of things during his life, first in the South African military, and then its Special Forces and finally here and now in the Special Reaction Taskforce. He had not, however, seen a small group of hostiles completely and utterly ruin a heavily secured compound. That was a first, a first he would very much like to avoid happening again (though, granted, it would no longer be a "first" if it did happen again). He stood in the parking lot by the main gate while about half a dozen Taskforce operatives milled about, picking through the rubble. A trio of medical personnel rushed by, two of them carrying a stretcher between them. From what Van Cleef could see, the operative sprawled along it was suffering from some nasty looking burns.

Fires burned about the compound and the air stunk of scorched metal and burning fuel. Emergency response teams were working on putting out some of the flames, but there was simply too much damage for it to come under any significant control anytime soon. Van Cleef was remarkably calm given the circumstances. He had been tasked with keeping this place secure and so far he had failed, although he knew it was through no fault of his own. Had the Colonel supplied him with more troops and more vehicles they might have been able to contain the Cybertronian prisoners properly. That, and a certain Autobot should have done his job better as well.

Deadeye sat nearby, his backside parked on a stack of metal containers while he used some kind of small beam emitter to patch up his injuries. Namely, it was the gaping hole that had been blown into his right arm that was the focus of his concern. He had even lost a pistol in the engagement earlier, leaving him stuck with one of his regular slug-throwers and the old blaster he had confiscated from Skystreaker. Van Cleef found Deadeye's penchant for dual-wielding amusing. This Autobot's exposure to Earth popular culture had likely influenced his overall combat technique.

"What the hell happened, tin man?" Van Cleef asked. Deadeye glanced at him, his blue optics displaying only vague interest. He switched off the repair beam emitter and flexed his right arm, a pained wince crossing his face as his wound sent a sharp sting along the limb. "You're supposed to be better than this, aren't ya?"

"I was caught by surprise," Deadeye replied. He turned his head to look down at the Captain, his metal features showing a fairly flat expression. "Let me guess: You've never been caught by surprise before?"

"Shouldn't you be out there pursuing them?" Van Cleef asked. He gestured with one arm towards the wrecked main gate and the desert beyond it.

"The Autobots are hiding their signals," Deadeye stated matter-of-factly. "Standard procedure and there's very little I can do to track them. Unless you can get an energon detector within range then we'll never be able to find them."

"Then go out there and start searching," Van Cleef ordered. Deadeye raised an optic ridge, apparently amused at the Captain's orders. "Go on, you lousy heap of metal. Get out there and do your fucking job."

"There's not a whole lot of point," Deadeye said. "Your people have the energon detectors. Start deploying them. I've only got the one on me as it is."

Van Cleef sighed. He had not joined the Taskforce just so he could deal with a smug and uptight alien robot. With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned around and walked away, leaving the Autobot to his own devices. There was still plenty else that needed doing around here, much of it far more pressing than arguing with Deadeye.

His cell-phone began to ring and vibrate. Van Cleef stopped where he was and pulled it from his pocket. The display showed that it was Colonel Carver calling, an unsurprising development. The Captain accepted the call and placed the phone to his ear, awaiting the inevitable verbal barrage. Instead, he heard a rather reserved Carver on the other end of the line.

"I heard what happened," he said. "Tell me, Captain, what kind of setback are we facing?"

"It's not really much of a 'setback'," Van Cleef replied. He watched as a pair of soldiers walked by him, carrying the burnt out remains of a car's engines between them. "We have about fourteen dead and twenty-five wounded. The compound's a bladdy mess, of course. I'd say it's the property damage expenses we should be more worried about."

"How many Autobots were there?"

"The one we had detained and another that showed up with that fat agent, Fowler. And then there was the 'Con we brought in last night. The three of them got away, as did Fowler and Agent Darby." Van Cleef paused for a moment, pondering what to say next. There was a comment here he wanted to make, yet he could not be certain how well it would be received by the Colonel. Nonetheless, he continued: "I thought you said Darby wouldn't be a problem? That he'd be on our side? Because, and if you don't mind me saying, boss, he's kind of become a problem now."

"His loyalty to the Autobots is as strong as ever, it seems. It doesn't matter. I'm about to begin a press conference. Those Autobots, and both Fowler and Darby, essentially launched a terrorist attack against a military installation within the United States of America. And this only hours after the President's assassination by another alien terrorist. That's what they all are now, Captain. Terrorists. They will be treated as such."

"And what about Cyclonus? You still going to go along with what he said? You still going to give him what he wants?"

"Not yet. The Decepticon General and his cronies will have to wait a while longer. They may even have to wait until the current problem is taken care of. And that's what I want you to do, Captain. Take care of this problem. Utilise anything you have at your disposal. You'll be getting plenty more support in about an hour's time, once this press conference is over. Trust me on that."

Van Cleef did not care much for Carver's politics or his plans regarding such things. He was only really concerned with what had happened now and how a few very dangerous individuals had escaped his grasp. He did not need to be told to go after them. He was already in the process of arranging a coordinated hunt.

"I'll get the bunch of them, Colonel," Van Cleef replied. "You can bet on that. I think I know how to draw them out. Just give me an hour."

"I know I can depend on you, Captain. Just ensure that you are careful. It is a very sensitive situation we have right now. Those Autobots, along with Darby and Fowler, can potentially become a spanner in the works. Right now, they are a nuisance. Keep them from getting any worse than that."

"Of course, Colonel."

Carver hung up then. Van Cleef put the phone away on his end and looked over to the group of nearby operatives. He motioned them over, ordering them to acquire and ready up as many energon detectors as possible. Van Cleef had hunted big game in the past, mostly in Africa. Stalking one's prey before delivering the final kill always gave him a unique thrill, one that would very easily translate over to hunting down Autobots and humans. To have the power of life and death over something, it just felt so good. And no prey escaped from his grasp.

"...we are not alone in the universe. This alien force has been among us for well over a decade and have been watching us, plotting against us and have now revealed themselves through an all-out attack upon this nation, and upon humanity in general. The evidence is there for all to see. The death of the President at the hands of these alien terrorists has hailed in a new era, for better or for worse, and that humanity must make a stand in the face of this grave threat, lest it be swept from the face of this Earth. A state of emergency has been declared across the whole of the nation and the UN Security Council will be convening in short order to discuss the next course of action, as this new threat is not only directed against our nation, but to humanity as a species. Earth must become stalwart in the face of alien aggressors. And they are not without outside help. Humans in collusion with them also exist and must be captured and put to justice accordingly..."

Jack watched a few close-ups of him and Agent Fowler flash up upon the screen while Colonel Carver's speech from earlier was replayed for the umpteenth time on what was apparently most channels. His smart-phone in hand, Jack could hardly believe what he was seeing. Carver had been quick to put him and Fowler on the 'most wanted' lists, apparently. Not only that, but the Autobots had been painted as villains in the worst sense of the word. Given the nature of such an announcement, it was not surprising to see in the news some people taking to the streets in protest. Protests against the secrecy that had lead up to the events of today, protests against the state of emergency and the limited rights it gave to citizens, and then there were those who simply took to the streets to take advantage of the chaos.

Jack sat on an old wooden crate within the rundown interior of an abandoned tungsten mill. Large steel machinery, rusted in most places, was lined up along one side of the large hall. Pieces of the ceiling were missing and puddles of water were scattered about the floor. Outside, the sun was still fairly high, its light and heat bearing down relentlessly upon the Nevada desert. Nearby, Fowler paced back and forth, his clothing dirty and his skin slicked with sweat. Wheeljack sat at the end of the hall while Ultra Magnus stood ahead with Skystreaker doing what she could to patch up the hole that had been blasted into his back. He kept a straight face despite the pain, with the occasional wince indicating that even the Autobot Commander was not immune to the sensation.

Jack put the smart-phone down and shook his head.

"We're fugitives," he said, looking towards Fowler. The older Agent stopped and then briskly walked over. Somewhat abruptly, he snatched the smart-phone from Jack's hands and threw it to the floor. There, he stamped it a few times with his foot, crushing it under his shoes.

"They can track you," Fowler stated. "Even when it's so much as switched on." He reached into his pocket then and pulled out his own mobile phone. He threw that against the nearest concrete wall where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

"I can't believe this," Jack said. Today had turned bad abruptly, that was for sure. "What are we going to do? This is the first time I've been a wanted criminal."

"We lay low," Fowler replied. "That's about all we can do."

Jack frowned. He was sceptical, as much as he preferred to try and remain optimistic. Going up against Decepticons was one thing, but when your entire country wanted you in prison it made for a very different situation. Not only that, but Jack had never actually killed anyone before. He had never needed to take a shot at his fellow human and had hoped that he would get through life without having to do such a thing.

"Don't look so down, Jack," Fowler said, having noticed his downbeat expression. "We'll get through this."

"How many people did you kill today, Fowler?" Jack asked. Fowler frowned at the question. It was not something he had been asked before.

"What kind of question is that, son? I did what I had to. That compound was hostile territory." He paused, his eyes going to Jack's waist. "Where's your pistol?" The lack of a holster there was obvious.

"I only carry it if I absolutely need to," Jack answered. "I didn't expect I'd need to use it today. And I certainly didn't think I'd be shooting at anyone with it."

"It's better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it." Fowler crossed his arms. "I thought I told you that before."

"And I've gone nine years without having to fire a shot. You can probably understand my decision to not carry it with me."

Fowler nodded slowly.

"I get it, Jack. You've never needed to pull a gun on someone before. You weren't in the Rangers like I was, so you've never needed to fire a shot in anger. But I have no regrets for what I did back at the compound. Those Taskforce guys are bad news and that Colonel Carver guy's had it in for us since day one."

"He invited me to join..."

"So he could have you, and in turn Unit-E, under his thumb. Don't you see it now, Jack?" Fowler raised his brows, his tone taking on a more frustrated edge. "He's been building up to something like this. I bet General Williamson's in on the whole thing as well. They forced me into retirement and I can see why. With me gone, there'd only be you, and with you in the Taskforce then Unit-E could be absorbed by it and no one would ask any questions. Colonel Carver would be in complete control of Earth's defence against the Decepticons."

Jack figured it all made sense now, after everything that had happened. Still, there were too many unanswered questions. How did Cyclonus figure into it all? And who was really the one who had killed the President, since it sure as hell was not Bumblebee?

"We can't just stay here," Jack said. At best, he felt conflicted. Not just about killing people, but also regarding what they were going to do next. He had no idea what they could do short of turning themselves in. Naturally, he had no desire to spend the rest of his life in a federal prison.

"You're damn right we can't," Fowler said. He turned his head to look over at the Autobots. Skystreaker had finished with Ultra Magnus. The Autobot Commander flexed his arms, testing to see if they were as workable as they should be.

"Any ideas, Magnus?" Fowler asked. The Autobot Commander looked towards him, frowning as he thought over the question.

Wheeljack rose to his feet then, a disgruntled look crossing his metal features.

"I tell you what I'm going to do," he said aloud. "I'm going to go find Bumblebee and then I'm going to get my hands round the neck of that ass Deadeye and tear his fucking head off." The profanity was surprising to hear, coming from an Autobot, but given the situation Jack could understand the reaction. Wheeljack clasped his hands together, flexing his metal fingers in anticipation.

"And I suppose you're going to do that all on your lonesome?" Skystreaker tilted her head at him, one optic ridge raised. She did not sound convinced.

"Any better ideas?" Wheeljack narrowed his gaze at her. "Other than running away like a damn coward?"

"You have a ground-bridge, don't you?"

"I said, 'other than running away like a damn coward'."

"Can't you just call in some of your friends from Cybertron?"

Wheeljack shook his head.

"What good would that do, sweet-spark?" He smiled when he saw Skystreaker give an annoyed grimace when he spoke the last word. "They'd get hunted down just the same as us. Unless you're saying we should just invade Earth, but I don't think that'd help our image in the eyes of the human population. All they've been told about us is that we're 'terrorists'. Doing 'terrorist' things would only add to that image." He crossed his arms then, satisfied that he had made his point.

"Still, we'll need help," Skystreaker replied. "If we're going to find your friends and stop Colonel Carver, we'll need more than two Autobots and one Decepticon deserter."

"And why are you so keen to help us?" Ultra Magnus was the one to ask this question. Skystreaker swivelled around to face him, smiling at him as their gazes met.

"Because I've got no other option," she said. "I'm being hunted down by my old boss, who just so happens to be Cyclonus. I'm in as much trouble as you guys are. Staying with you will increase my chances of survival."

"Good to hear your spark is in the right place," Wheeljack quipped, his sarcasm blatant. "In it for yourself. Can't say I'm surprised. You remind me of a younger me, except I wasn't a bitch."

"Any ideas?" Fowler asked. "That's what we need right now. If we're going to find Bumblebee, we'll need a means of tracking him."

"And none of us have the means," Ultra Magnus answered. "It's easy enough for an Autobot to hide their life signatures, or for someone else to do it for them. We'd need sophisticated scanning equipment. The sort you'd only find on Cybertron."

"Or Unit-E headquarters," Fowler replied. Jack stood up then and walked over to the group. Already, he could see that some kind of plan was falling into place. "Ratchet might have left equipment like that lying around. Apparently, the Taskforce have the same sort of stuff since they were able to find Decepticons before we could. So, we could go back to Unit-E headquarters, or we could head back to the Taskforce compound. It's a toss-up, isn't it? We're all wanted fugitives, so I don't think it'll matter which one we go to."

"The ground-bridge is back at the Unit-E HQ," Wheeljack said. "Even if there's nothing salvageable there, we can go back to Cybertron and get what we need." He nodded slowly, approving of this haphazardly put together plan. "I'm liking where this is headed."

"We might actually stand a chance after all." Skystreaker spoke through a wry smile, her tone hardly convincing.

"I'll go to Unit-E," Wheeljack said.

"Don't expect the people there to open the gate for you." Fowler looked towards him, his expression grim. "They'll be on the lookout for any Cybertronians. You'll have to sneak in and I know that stealth was never your strong suit."

"I've changed," Wheeljack countered. There was an extended pause as a smile crossed his face. "Well, maybe not much. I'll still do my best to keep a low profile, you can count on that, tiny."

"I'll go with him," Skystreaker added. Wheeljack peered at her inquisitively and Fowler raised an eyebrow. Skystreaker did not strike them as the sort who would volunteer for a potentially dangerous mission. "He'll need backup and I can give that to him."

"And you'll probably make a run for it once we reach the ground-bridge," Wheeljack commented.

Skystreaker shook her head. She actually looked downbeat then, as if she had suddenly been hit with the full gravity of the situation.

"I can't go back to Cybertron," Skystreaker replied. "And I've got nowhere else to go. Why do you think I'm here with you? You're the only ones who'll have me."

"You can't go back or you don't want to go back?"

Skystreaker shrugged.

"A bit of both," she said.

Jack looked over to Fowler. They at least had something they could do, with Wheeljack and Skystreaker relegated the task of acquiring the means to find Bumblebee. And Knock Out for that matter.

"What about you and I?" Jack asked Fowler. The older Agent turned to him and put a hand to his chin for a moment, thinking it over. "We can't just stay here. I was thinking I could test out my Taskforce credentials. I may still be able to log onto their systems."

"Where would you do that? Back at their compound?" Fowler shook his head. "Going back there is a bad idea. And if we're going to do any computer stuff, we could get Rafael to help us..."

"No," Jack interrupted. "We're not dragging him into this. You might want to think twice about bringing any friends of yours into this as well, Bill."

Fowler nodded in understanding.

"You're right. The Taskforce wouldn't hesitate to go after our families. That would likely include Miko in your case, Jack."

"Next we're at a payphone, I'll call her. Get her to leave the country. But as for Rafael, we're keeping him out of this."

There was a long silence between the two of them. Neither of them could think of any real plan, other than what had been suggested. Jack had little hope that he would be able to access any Taskforce computers with his credentials, but it was worth a shot. The information they might be able to gleam would be helpful.

"You wouldn't mind coming along, Magnus? We sort of need a vehicle, anyway."

Ultra Magnus nodded in the affirmative.

"I understand, Fowler," he said. "Wheeljack and Skystreaker will go to Unit-E while we go to meet this friend of yours. Just tell me the way." Ultra Magnus ducked his way out of the large and partially open doors of the mill then, heading outside into the sun. Wheeljack and Skystreaker followed.

"Are you sure about this?" Jack asked Fowler, as the pair of them walked outside after the Autobots. Fowler turned to him, his look one of doubt.

"I've no idea," he answered. "It's not every day you end up a fugitive in your own country. I swore an oath to protect this nation, I guess being put on the 'most wanted' list is some sort of twisted repayment."

"You're taking it pretty well."

"That's the only way I can take it." Both of them stepped outside into the heat, the gravel crunching underfoot. A dirt road ran by the mill, heading back onto a highway that wound its way across the state. "I was trained to keep it together under stress. We both were."

"I wasn't in the Rangers..."

"And I haven't been in them for years," Fowler interrupted. "The point is, we have to keep a level head because as soon as we don't, we lose. Our enemies would want us to panic. They'd want us to be nervous wrecks. We can't give them that satisfaction. I'm going to get to the bottom of what's going on and so are you. And we're both going to do it without losing our cool. I'm just worried if my heart can take it. I'm getting old, after all. Probably too old for this shit."

Fowler smiled then. Jack did the same. He did feel slightly better about things. If Fowler could keep himself in good humour despite everything that had happened, then he figured he should be able to as well.

Note (response to guest reviewer 'Giddy'): Ultra Magnus wants to reach peaceful resolutions with rogue Decepticons, hence why he decided not to bring weapons with him to Cyclonus' 'negotiation'. It's a gesture of goodwill; that, and he may be getting rusty after nearly a decade of dealing with petty political squabbles on Cybertron. That, and his escort (Bumblebee, Wheeljack, etc.) were armed to an extent, just in case.
Nonetheless, your comments are always appreciated, Giddy.