Staff Sergeant Johnathan Darby was a commander in the US Army Rangers. It was his responsibility to lead his men behind enemy lines, and to bring them home. After decades of combat on the other side of the world, he had adapted a rugged look.
His dark brown hair was cut short to his scalp and his whiskers were untrimmed, his beard unshaven but not thick. His emerald green eyes always matched his mood, even that occasional, serious frown he would wear. Broad shouldered, thick muscles, and standing 6'3", he was an intimidating figure. His physique was thanks to a strict, vigorous training regime that he went through daily, whether at home or abroad.
On the field, he was serious and disciplined, able to think and react quickly. He was charming and caring to his men, and his troops looked up to him. At home, he was far more relaxed. The mask of the commander would be removed, leaving a mischievous, good-natured man. John could lighten the darkest moods with his innate sense of humor, occasionally pulling a clever prank if the opportunity revealed itself.
But like all men, he had his flaws, the stress of his career making him alert and short-tempered at all times. He flinched at loud noises and cringed whenever he heard a wail. His voice rose quickly whenever he was annoyed or frustrated, a trait June had called his "army bark." She was the only one who could calm her husband's fits.
John was careful not to direct his negative feelings to his family, instead always finding time to spend with his son. Even as he wasn't on the same continent.
"I wish you were here," Jack whined. A choppy picture of his father's face, even in the living room, did not count.
"I know, son," Dad replied, giving one of his warm, reassuring smiles. "We're wrapping up things here, and then I'll come home."
"What are you doing, anyway?"
"Classified, Jack. I could tell you, but then I'll have to kill you."
The son huffed in a chuckle and rolled his eyes. Suddenly there was an impatient shout behind Dad, and it was the man's turn to roll his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, Lennox, you can talk to your girls," the Ranger drawled to another figure off-screen. He turned back to his soon. "I have to go. I'll see you soon." Jack nodded and replied. "I love you, too, son. Happy birthday."
Jack opened his eyes. He instantly recognized the white fluorescent lights and the steady deeps of machinery. He groaned.
"I hate hospitals," he sighed.
Jack shifted onto his elbows, sighing in relief to find his arms free, only for soreness to radiate across his body in waves. He hissed at the steady throb behind his eyes.
"You and me both," a familiar voice drawled, and Jack glanced up only to blink.
"F-Fowler?" he gasped.
The liaison sat in a chair pushed against the wall, legs crossed and a thick book still in his hand. His posture was relaxed, breaking military discipline to slouch against the back of the chair. His jacket was sprawled across the empty chair next to him. He had obviously been there for a while.
"What… what happened?" Jack asked, his voice slurring.
"You got caught in the blast radius in one of MECH's fancy gadgets," Fowler answered. "The stress of the electric shock knocked you out. Doctors say there shouldn't be any permanent damage, though."
At first Jack was confused at his words, then it all came flooding back. MECH. They kidnapped him. Then the Autobots came to save him. Along with NEST, everyone. Lennox had put his life in danger to protect the boy, but he couldn't stop the soldier that fired that… EMP gun, or whatever it was. It wasn't strong enough to kill the boy, but a force that concentrated would do damage to his body.
Then Jack remembered.
"S-Silas? Is he…?" the teenager trailed off, not knowing how to finish the question. Fowler shook his head.
"He got away," the man sighed. "Used the chaos to slip a helicopter out of the compound."
The agent's voice was filled with bitterness and frustration. Jack's stomach twisted. All of that, for nothing. Silas had escaped, to continue his mad schemes, while… The boy's heart skipped a beat.
"Acree! Is she okay?" the army brat demanded.
"She's fine. She and the rest of the Autobots just got some scrapes. If wasn't for them we would have more casualties—"
Fowler cut off, realizing his mistake, but the damage was done. Jack's blood turned cold. More casualties, as in—
All that gunfire he had heard, it was US forces, fighting. For him. How many people had gotten hurt, gotten killed? The teenager's chest twisted painfully. No, he wasn't worth that. He was just some insignificant child that didn't know anything. He caused more problems than solved them. He wasn't worth dozens of American lives, and the families that—
Fowler must have picked up on Jack's somber mood, because he assured quickly, "The boys knew what they were signing up for when they joined the operation. MECH is a terrorist organization and Silas is a threat to national security. I had no doubt those men would volunteer to do it again."
Jack swallowed. "I thought NEST fought Decepticons, not… humans."
Fowler frowned. "That's true." When the teenager looked down at his lap, he added, "We can argue we had jurisdiction to be there. There was certainly enough Cybertronian tech and energon to support that."
The army brat blinked, not sure if he heard the man correctly. "Wait… what?"
"It looks like MECH was trying to build their own little factory. Found a storage of energon and a laboratory. It looks like they were trying to reverse engineer the Cybertronian weaponry—we think."
Which would of have disastrous consequences, as Jack stared at the deadly symbol plastered on each barrel.
Biohazard.
MECH had been experimenting with stolen technology, and they were free to continue their scheme. Jack swallowed.
"Silas got away because of me… I-I tried, but I couldn't do it."
"Don't do that to yourself," Fowler replied, more gentle than chiding. "You wouldn't. And it's not your job. If anything, we're all just as guilty for what happened yesterday."
The statement made the boy blink. He heard the remorse and venom in the man's voice, his eyes narrowed in a glare even though there was nothing in front of him. His arms were crossed over his chest defensively.
"What do you mean?" the army brat dared to ask, and he was answered with a sigh.
"Silas, or should I say, Leland Bishop, has been on the terrorist watch list for years. And he's only there because we put him there." The man ignored Jack's confused squint, continuing, "We trained him—how to kill, how to avoid detection, how to operate."
Then the boy remembered. Lennox and Silas expertly training blows, the same moves, as if—
"Silas was ex-military," Jack realized.
"Navy SEAL," Fowler clarified. "He was commander of one of our most elite special operations teams."
"What happened?"
The government agent let out a long sigh and shifted his weight. "9/11."
The blunt reply made Jack cringe. He wondered how two simple numbers could bring such agony.
However, he listened as the man went on, "It triggered the greatest man hunt in history." Fowler paused and apparently decided to skip details, rather saying bluntly, "Colonel Bishop and his team were sent to intercept a messenger. The mission was to capture the target and interrogate him to lead us to him. It started as a standard op—no resistance, dropped in, kicked the door down." Another sigh and uncomfortable pause. "It was a trap. The compound was rigged to explode. …Bishop was the only one to survive."
Jack felt something in his chest twist. He hated Silas with every fiber in his being—he still hated Silas. But he felt a twang of pity. Not for the terrorist, but for Colonel Bishop. Comrades on the frontlines were like brothers. Losing his entire team… No wonder he went mad.
"Bishop was ordered never to speak of the operation again," Fowler continued. "We couldn't risk it leaking out. Obviously, the colonel didn't appreciate that. He demanded compensation for his team. He was refused. Then Project Damocles started up ahead of schedule." At Jack's questioning glance, the man explained, "It was a space weapons initiative, allowing the United States military to target anything and anyone in the world. It was supposed to decrease causalities of American troops. Bishop had other plans.
"He hacked into the satellite—with a laptop, by the way—and it trained it only Washington D.C. Threatened he would fire it, if his ransom wasn't paid. Special forces found him and put a gun to his head to force him to shut down the project. He was arrested and tried. Then… he just disappeared."
Fowler closed his eyes, sighing through his nose. "One year later, Silas appeared on our watch list, leading a militia he put together, called MECH. And, well… you know the rest."
"So Silas is a terrorist all because he lost his men?" Jack concluded, unable to hide the anger from his voice.
"Grief does strange things to a man. Besides, I'm sure he already had his grievances."
"Like DiBiase was bitter about Dad?"
Fowler blinked at him. "Knew someone there?"
"You could say that…" Jack narrowed his eyes to a glare. "I thought he was crazy. He said Dad died for nothing. But then Silas…"
He trailed off, his voice cracking as the horrible memory flashed before his eyes. Of Silas's smug tone, enjoying his prisoner's misery. The boy's thoughts were interrupted by Fowler's heavy sigh.
"Lennox told me what happened after I got back from D.C.," the man said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
"…No."
The boy shook his head in disbelief. "Why?"
"Other than the fact it was classified, and we couldn't exactly tell your mother that her husband was killed by an alien technology that until then, we didn't know was a threat?"
"Who else knew?"
"Just me and Lennox. Epps, too."
Jack couldn't help the bubble of rage that filled his chest, bristling. "So you all were just going whisper and tiptoe around me? Treat me like some little kid that didn't know any better?"
"I didn't know until recently, when Lennox told me after we caught you at the Pentagon—which, by the way, we classified as a Decepticon aggression rather than two brats playing Spy Kids." Jack frowned, but before he could retort, Fowler added, "We didn't tell you because you had already grieved. There was no sense putting you through that again."
The boy swallowed and looked down at his lap. He felt a familiar, horrible feeling creep into his chest, but he stamped it back down. He tried to focus on the frustration instead. That usually kept it at bay.
"Silas knew," he accused.
"Bishop has an unlimited number of contacts and resources—and he's smart. He probably dug into your family history and pieced it together."
While Jack was in the dark, none the wiser. Because the government couldn't bear to release its secret. It couldn't confess its mistake, meddling with a wrathful and vengeful race. The boy realized that was just a hint of Silas's bitterness. But he didn't understand.
"Why… why would the Decepticons just… attack an operations base?" Jack asked. That was all he could say, and even that hurt.
"…They weren't after the base, but the network," Fowler explained after a heavy pause. "They… were looking for… something."
It clicked almost immediately. No, not something. Someone.
A single shudder coursed through his body and suddenly his throat hurt as he fought back a scream. Did he know?
"And now Megatron is after me," Jack muttered darkly.
He gritted his teeth. He didn't understand it himself. He didn't know how to describe it. Jack could feel him. The boy could hear his thoughts. But the tyrant's mind was too complicated. The only thing that he understood was—
He still remembered it, that rush that filled him every time he took over his mind. He thought it was adrenaline. Bloodlust even. But then he remembered. What Jack felt, every time before he succumbed to Megatron's will.
Hate.
There was a heavy silence as Jack tried to grasp everything that had happened and the dark information he had been told. He felt his emotions, twisting and churning his in stomach, tearing his heart apart. Oh, how he wished this nightmare would be over. That he would wake up, and learn everything he had been through for the last two months was all just a bad dream.
Jack blinked, and sure enough, he was still in the hospital bed at Diego Garcia, connected to several different machines. At least he wasn't in cuffs this time. Meanwhile, Fowler was processing the information he had been told, adding it to what little he already knew.
"Jack, there's a way we can try to remove the dark energon," he said slowly, hesitantly, and the boy instantly snapped his neck. He trained his wide-eyed gaze on the man, and he wondered if he heard him correctly.
"H-how?" the teen demanded.
Fowler told him about their idea of using dialysis. A common, nonfatal operation that could be the solution to their problem.
"Do you think it would work?" Jack asked.
"It's worth a shot," the man replied hopefully.
The army brat swallowed the lump in his throat and balled the sheets in his fists. "I don't want Megatron in my head anymore."
The agent nodded. "I'll set it up with the doctor. In the meantime," he added, crossing the room, "there's some people that want to see you."
Jack raised a confused eyebrow. Fowler smiled at him while he opened the door. The teenager gasped in surprise and his depression was instantly replaced by relief and joy.
"Mom!" he cried.
The woman automatically closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him in a tight, crushing hug. Jack wheezed at the dull pain it caused, but he didn't care complain, instead returning it with his own bear hug. Looking over her shoulder, he noticed Miko and Raf filing in, just as relieved to at last see their friend. Fowler promptly slipped out of the room, leaving them privacy.
"You're okay," Mom breathed against his neck, like it was dream turned into reality. She held him even tighter, muffling her cries against his shirt. "You're okay…"
"Yeah," Jack replied, in a soft, reassuring whisper. "I'm okay."
He stayed with his family for a long time after that.
Jack spent the next couple days in the medical wing, several different doctors fussing over him. They monitored his vitals—which they deemed were fine—and did a number of tests (which made him cringe, but they were careful when they noticed his discomfort). The head physician deemed there was no lingering damage from the electrocution, or any signs of trauma for that matter. The man expressed his curiousness, how he should little sign of injury, especially after the boy told him the details of his capture.
Jack knew why, his veins feeling warm as the dark energon traveled to every cell of its host. He was relieved when the doctor declared he was fit enough to continue with the procedure.
The dialysis was a surreal experience, but after he had been through Jack supposed it was rather insignificant. It was absurd to begin with, as the doctors had to pinch up his skin in order to get access to much blood as possible. Two needles were inserted—one to draw the blood, one to return it. The machine hummed to life and Jack couldn't help but feel light-headed, watching the blood—his blood—seep into the tubing.
He decided not to comment how it seemed darker, but returned lighter shade. The heavy weight that had been pressing against his chest—and his mind—lifted ever so slowly. Jack dared to breathe, light and relieved.
It was working.
Mom stayed with the boy during the procedure, and offered him distraction. Jack was grateful, as it didn't seem like long had passed when the procedure was finished. He lingered in his room another day to ensure there was no lasting effects, Miko and Raf keeping him company. Finally, the teenager was discharged from the medical wing and allowed to leave.
He was shaky at first after being bedridden for so long, but it only took a few minutes to regain his motor function. Jack immediately used his newfound freedom to return to the place that only a few days ago, he vowed never to step into again. Miko and Raf were with him when he stepped into Hanger E, the Autobots' personal quarters, yet he still stiffened when he felt ten pairs of optics settle on him. He decided to ignore it, as there was only one he cared about.
Arcee closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, and immediately began fussing over him like a mother hen. Jack didn't realized how much he missed her overprotectiveness. Trying to come up with assurances to calm his partner, her words caught him off guard, as she said something he never thought she was capable of.
"I was scared," Arcee murmured, so that only he could hear. "I was scared I was going to lose you."
Jack swallowed, not knowing how to assure that, not when he was scared himself. He decided it wasn't worth hiding it.
"I was, too," he admitted. "That I would never see you again. I was afraid you hated me."
The guardian shook her head in disbelief. "I could never."
"But how I acted—"
"You were scared, and upset. You needed time."
Jack nodded. "I… I've had enough time. I want to stay here, with you. I want to be with the Autobots again." After a pause, he dared to say, "I don't want to be Megatron's toy anymore."
Arcee's optics turned fierce. "I'll never let him hurt you again."
The teenager gave a half-hearted smile, and he didn't know why. Maybe because he was with his fiery partner again, at long last.
Jack was nervous. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans, and focused on keeping his breathing steady. Already he felt his skin prickling underneath that scrutinizing gaze. It felt like he was going into a job interview, but a part of him knew it wasn't. A part of him felt like it was worse. Lennox had given him a warning, that it needed to be done, but he could take a break if he was uncomfortable. The lieutenant colonel even gave him advice how to make it smooth as possible. Jack was still nervous, but he forced himself to appear calm as the man approached him.
"So we finally meet face-to-face. Jack Darby, right?"
"Yes, sir," the boy nodded.
"Seymour Simmons," the man introduced, raising a hand.
Jack hesitantly took it, even as his stomach knotted and horrible images flashed across his eyes. He shoved them down.
"You… were part of Sector Seven," the teenager surmised hesitantly. Simmons nodded.
"And you're bad-things-happen-to-alien-magnet-kid."
Jack cringed. "Just Jack, will do."
"Okay, Jack-will-do, let's have a chat, shall we?"
Jack honestly expected to be dragged to the closest interrogation room, or at least some dark, damp office in the corner of the base. Instead, he was surprised when Simmons escorted him off the base, and onto the beach.
It wasn't long until the yells of personnel and growls of vehicles and the bustle of the base faded, replaced by the murmurs of the ocean. The rhythmic roar of the waves crashing on the white sand was soothing. The salty wind blowing against his face was calming, and it was the first time in a long time the teenager could find himself breathing easy. Even Simmons made an effort to look less intimidating, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts rather than a flashy suit.
However, Jack couldn't help his stomach knotting when the man pulled out a recording device. The boy hesitantly took it like the cool metal was burning, and as per the agent's instructions, slipped it over his neck. Simmons reminded him that they could take a break or stop altogether whenever he wanted. The army brat let out a shaky sigh.
"I'm fine," he insisted. "I can do this."
"Then start from the beginning."
Jack doubted Simmons wanted to know how he met the Autobots. It felt like a lifetime ago, anyway. Far too much had happened since then. Instead, he started with the beginning of the nightmare.
That Miko and Jack were left alone at the base, as the other Autobots had gone out on patrols. Arcee and Bulkhead detected a faint energon signal from an abandoned mine, and decided to investigate it. Deeming the children could not be left alone (and from Miko's nagging insistence), they decided to bring their charges along, not seeing the harm.
Jack described the battle between the Autobots and the Decepticons, the cave-in, and how he was trapped. How he met Megatron.
Simmons did not interrupt him, except when asking to clarify details. He seemed particularly interested in the Lord of the Decepticons, and Jack did his best to describe the tyrant. The former Sector Seven agent seemed fascinated more than anything, as if the boy was telling him things he could never imagine. The army brat supposed he couldn't blame the man's surprise. He had spent his career studying Megatron's anatomy and physiology. Completely unaware of the dangerous, twisted mind that ran it.
The entire interview took hours. They had spent the entire time trailing the beach, going from one end to the island to the other and back again. They paused a few times, either when Jack felt the edges of a panic attack or when Simmons complained to losing his breath. The sun was high when they started and it hung over the ocean when they finished. Jack's legs were sore, and Simmons rubbing his thighs told the same.
However, the man seemed satisfied, but not in a smug way. That giddy, excited look he greeted the boy was gone, replaced by serious, but intrigued fascination. If anything, he seemed like a scientist or a mathematician finding a solution to a problem they had been working on for years. But he did not say much else, not even muttering a praise for Jack other than expressing his gratitude.
With that, Simmons asked for the recorder and promptly stopped it once it was in his hand. The teenager let out a sigh he wasn't aware he had been holding.
They trudged back onto the base, both tired and strained. Jack was eager for a warm, hot meal, realizing it was the first time in a long time he had a real appetite. Then a hot shower and a comfortable bed to sleep.
In the late afternoon, the buzz of workers had died a little, as the last of the drills finished and flyers were returned to their hangers. The pair made their way to Hanger E, and sure enough, all of the Autobots were present.
"Well, well, we thought you've gotten lost," Ironhide rumbled, glancing down at them.
"Nope, sorry to disappoint you," Simmons quipped. As the Autobot snorted, the man turned to Lennox, who had his arms crossed. He handed out the recorder. Only when the lieutenant colonel reached out, Simmons snatched his hand back. "And?"
The NEST commander made a face. The Sector Seven agent raised an expectant eyebrow, and after several long moments, Lennox realized he had no choice.
"Thank you," he forced out through gritted teeth.
Simmons took as it as it was and handed the man hours worth of intel. Jack only gave an amused huff at the exchange and settled by Arcee's leg. His guardian gave him one of her warm, assuring smiles, and Jack couldn't help but to mirror.
It was finally over. He could be with his family again. Megatron would never—
Suddenly his thoughts were sliced in half by furious yells. He jumped and snapped his neck back and forth, only to be greeted by roars of engines. He blinked, only to see a line of Humvees with manned turrets appear, forming a tight ring around the Autobots. With weapons trained on the extraterrestrials.
The teenager's blood turned cold when he heard the sound of Cybertronian weapons being activated. Plating bristled, EM fields flared, wings went up, and pedes shifted into battle stances. Jack yelped as Arcee shoved him behind her, hiding him from the scrutinizing glares of the soldiers. They filed out of the Humvees, stepping as close to the Autobots as they dared. The boy immediately realized they weren't NEST.
NEST soldiers would never raise a weapon at the Autobots.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Optimus Prime thundered.
"You want a piece of me?!" Ironhide roared.
"I'll turn you into scrap!" Sideswipe threatened with a wave of his sword when a soldier came threateningly close.
Suddenly soldiers bearing the NEST insignia just as suddenly appeared, forming a rough barrier between the Autobots and the interlopers. Shouts flew in all directions, each party threatening the other, half the gazes and weapons on the Autobots; half of them trained on fellow humans.
Jack cowered in the shadow of his guardian. The Autobots formed a rough ring around him, using their pedes to shield him from the advancing humans. Like they were hiding him. He warily eyed between the dozens of assault rifles trained in his direction and the energon cannons trained towards the invading soldiers.
"Put your weapons down!" Lennox yelled over the bickering shouts, but Jack didn't know who it was directed to. When his order was unheeded on either side, the boy's question was answered as the lieutenant colonel stormed forward, slamming his hands on a hood of a Humvee. "I said put them down!"
Suddenly the passenger door of the assaulted vehicle flew open, and Lennox glared at the stern-faced man, dressed in crisp dress uniform, that stepped out. It had been so long since Jack had seen him, it took him several moments to recognize the general he encountered in the Pentagon.
General Bryce.
"Tell them to stand down first," the head of NEST retorted, glancing at the defensive aliens.
"Sir, these are our allies!"
General Bryce only shook his head. "There's nothing I can do, Colonel. Talk to him."
Both Lennox and Jack squinted in confusion, until another figure crawled out of the Humvee, stepping forward. While the teenager's confusion only grew, the lieutenant colonel bristled.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled venomously.
Theodore Galloway didn't even flinch, responding with a furious glare of his own.
"I'm here to tell you that your NEST team is deactivated."
He wasn't sure if he heard the man in the flashy suit. Deactivated? No, that couldn't mean—
The government official went on, "The Autobots are to remained in Diego Garcia—pending further orders."
"No, we take our orders from General Bryce," Lennox growled harshly, stepping forward until he was only a matter of inches away from the government official.
Standing each other up, their physique couldn't be more opposite. The NEST commander towered almost a head over the stranger, and almost twice as broad, with solid, defined muscles. The government official meanwhile was short and lanky, his black blazer adding a layer of weight. The lieutenant colonel glanced at his superior.
"There's nothing I can do," the general frowned. At Lennox's baffled look, the government official fished a wad of papers from his inner pocket.
"I will take your General of the Army, and raise you one President of the United States."
He forced the papers into the NEST commander's hand. Lennox forced them open and skimmed through.
"You're making a mistake," Lennox gasped, vigorously shaking his head.
"No, you did, when you botched up years of CIA undercover work," the stranger spat back, pointing an accusing finger. "And that's not the even the main issue."
Completely ignoring the mountain of a man in front of him, the government official stormed toward Optimus Prime. The Autobot leader had not raised a weapon during the entire exchange, but he looked down upon the man with a stern glare.
"No human causalities! That was our agreement!" the stranger shouted up at him.
"An agreement that we upheld," the Prime replied patiently. "We did not violently engage with any of the insurgents."
"Yeah, well I have fourteen names that say otherwise!"
"Terrorists," Epps corrected, without glancing over, still holding his rifle in a vice grip.
"And twelve American soldiers. Oh, and let's not forget the criminal mastermind that you let get away!"
"MECH was hoarding Cybertronian technology—we had jurisdiction to be there," Lennox argued.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your lovely conversation," Simmons interrupted, hands still raised in the air, "but Johny over there is still pointing a very big gun at me. Civil War ended a hundred years ago. Can we please put the weapons down?"
"Only if Johny puts his gun down first," Epps retorted.
"Only if you turn your robots off," one of the invading soldiers snapped.
Jack heard metallic growls above him, the autonomous robotic beings not appreciating the demeaning wording. Then he heard a heavy sigh.
"Autobots, stand down," Optimus Prime ordered.
His subordinates promptly obeyed his command, though not without sending cold glares to the hostile humans. Jack shuddered and pressed himself against Arcee's leg. He thought he felt a comforting servo on his shoulder. It was then, one-by-one, each soldier lowered his gun, followed by the NEST soldiers.
"Much better," Simmons sighed. He instantly lowered his hands and sauntered over to the government official. "Now, I didn't catch your name, Mister…?"
"Theodore Galloway, security advisor to the President," the man retorted. "Who are you supposed to be?"
"Seymour Simmons. I'm a consultant from Sector Seven—"
"Sector Seven is disbanded."
"Yes, but—"
Simmons explanation was cut off by a furious screech.
"Let me go, you jerk!"
It like a lead had fallen into Jack's stomach as he watched a burly soldier walk out of the hanger, dragging a struggling Miko behind him. He pulled at her arm as she flailed and shouted. Raf was much more obediently by his own guard, an unhappy Fowler trailing behind them. Then the Japanese girl took in the convoy holding the Autobots prisoner and promptly cursed in her mother tongue.
"Jack, what's going on?" she cried.
The army brat automatically ducked, but it was too late. Galloway's baffled gaze settled on his form, which looked miniscule next to the giants. Instantly the security advisor's eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.
"What the hell is this?" he shouted.
"They are under our protective custody—" Lennox tried.
"This is unacceptable! How long has this been going on?" When Lennox tried again, Galloway dropped his voice to a vicious hiss, "We cannot entrust national security to children, unless I missed a policy paper somewhere."
Jack felt himself bristling and even opened his mouth to correct the man, but Arcee clasped his shoulder in warning. However, he couldn't stay under his guardian's protection as Galloway pointed a sharp finger at him.
"You, here, now," the security advisor ordered, pointing at the ground next to his feet.
Instantly Jack felt defiance flare in his chest. He wasn't some like misbehaving toddler who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was chosen, by Optimus Prime and Meg—
Noticing the multiple stares boring into him, the army brat realized he had no choice. With a sigh, he stepped forward, settling because Miko and Raf underneath Galloway's scrutinizing glare. He demanded their names, and the teenager complied. Miko was silent.
"I asked for your name, little girl," Galloway demanded.
"…..Miko."
"Miko what?"
"Miko Noneya—" Jack elbowed her side. "Oof! Fine. Miko Nakadai."
"Mind telling me what you're doing with classified US military assets?"
It was the Japanese girl's turn to get offended. "They're our part—"
"They were attacked by Decepticons," Lennox stepped in quickly. "We had no choice but to bring them in—"
Galloway was already bored with his excuse, instead rounding on Fowler. "Why didn't you report this?"
"I report Autobot activity," the liaison answered quickly.
"Oh, and there's also a paper that says a bunch of teenagers having playdates with the Autobots is an exception to Autobot activity."
Fowler frowned and defensively crossed his arms. "They're kids—"
"Kids that have no permission to be here and could possibly leak critical intel if they haven't already."
"We're not kids," Jack corrected.
"Quiet," Galloway snapped, glaring at him.
Miko merely glared back in a defiant pout, arms over her chest. Jack narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn't like this government official at all. But it wasn't the same instant dislike he felt for Megatron or Silas or even Vince. Galloway wasn't a tyrant or a lunatic or a bully, but he was just as dangerous. He saw himself in the right, regardless of who else told him. Now Galloway had his undivided attention on Agent Fowler, only a matter of inches between them.
"You disobeyed direct orders," the man accused in a low tone, as if he was trying to have a secret conversation in the middle of over two dozen stares. "Report Autobot activity and speak on our behalf. Instead, you withhold information, let them directly violate the treaty—and helped them do it—all the while, hacking into unauthorized files."
Fowler shrugged. "No one would answer my calls."
Simmons choked on a laugh, but quickly silenced at Galloway's scathing glare. The government official turned his attention back to the liaison.
"Not going to defend yourself?" the security advisor invited.
"Not when my actions were in not only the American government's interests, but the humanity's. Besides, I left the Army over a decade ago. You can't have me court martialed."
"No, I can't," Galloway agreed, but his tone was far too cold for Jack's liking.
Suddenly the man flicked his wrist and a burly man stepped forward. The teenager suddenly heard a familiar clicking sound. Cuffs clasped on Fowler's wrists, arms painfully wrenched behind back.
"But I can have you arrested."
Next chapter: The fate of NEST and Megatron finally returns for the grand finale!