OH. MY. GOD.
I'm SO sorry this up so late (as in one WHOLE day) but it turns out that the holidays take up more time than actual work!
Oh well, final GCSEs this week! :O I haven't revised jack!
Enough of my incredibly boring personal life; this chapter's a bit short so that I could stuff in the epic battle scenes for the next chapter!
Thank you all for sticking with me this far! :D
General Mason strode down the corridors of the White House.
"General Charles Mason?" a marine on duty asked, proud and dignified in his dress uniform. "The President's expecting you in his office."
"I know," the general said with a smile, pushing through a set of double doors. He strode through an old room, filled with legendary furniture and cavernous windows.
You still feel a sense of wonder every time you come through here…
Mason stopped by an old oak table, stroking a finger upon its teak surface. He yawned; jetlag still permeating his brain.
Leaders of the most powerful country in the world sat here… still sit here. And I will meet with another.
He looked out one of the windows and grimaced at the damaged Washington Monument in the distance.
But even the leader of the free world isn't untouchable. Although the Rangers managed to bag one Decepticon, they could do nothing against Shockwave. Actually, I doubt anything short of a nuke will stop that guy.
"Charles!" called a woman's voice. "Oh, it's great to see you again!"
Mason turned, a smile on his face. First Lady Denise Callahan approached, a smile on her lips.
"Denise," Mason replied. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"I'll say. Frankly Charles, Edward's been up the shitter ever since Pierce got into the office. It's good to see a reliable face around here. You here to speak to him personally?"
"He got me across the Atlantic to meet face-to-face," Mason grumbled. "Whatever my new joint is, I don't see how it can be better than HARP."
"Oh yes, I heard about the dreadful business down in the desert," Denise sighed. "We've been getting calls every minute from one country or another, wondering where the hell the Autobots were."
"They were getting their asses kicked, that's where," Mason replied with a grimace. "So whether I'm getting fired, reposted or being in charge of a counterattack is anyone's guess."
Denise hesitated and Mason frowned.
"Is there something wrong?"
"…It's Edward," Denise said. "Frankly, he looks terrible."
"That's unsurprising," Mason replied a light-hearted smile. "With all the calls he's no doubt been getting."
"Well… I'm not sure. He was always a firm man, able to deal with any situation… really, I think it's because he's spent time away from his daughter."
"Little Cassie? Why, where is she?"
"Summer camp with her friends, you know how it is. But Edward does dote on her…"
Mason raised his hands and gave a beefy smile. "Look, we'll sort out everything. If Edward's troubled, then it's up to us to sort out his problems. I'll start rallying our extra-terrestrial friends and get some results."
Denise nodded, her face suddenly crestfallen. "Did you know Jimmy Burke?"
"Yeah, he worked with Levinson in the senate… wait, what do you mean 'did'?"
Denise inclined her head towards the window, where the devastated streets were still being cleared up.
"Goddamnit," Mason swore. "Alright, I'll see what I can do…"
"Good luck Charles. You're one of the best men we've got."
Mason continued on to the Oval Office, where two Secret Service agents waited outside.
"General Mason?" asked one of them, who Mason remembered was named Sherpa. "The President and SecDef are waiting for you within."
Sam's here as well? It must be big…
Mason nodded in thanks before opening the door into the Oval Office. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
He almost gasped in shock.
There were not two people in the room, but three.
President Edward Callahan sat behind his desk, hands together in something akin to a prayer. His stern features were strained, his eyes squared securely on some faraway vision. He did not look a man in charge of millions of lives.
Samuel Colt looked even worse. He was sweating bullets, his suit stained and ruined. He looked up at Mason with something akin to both fear and relief. He sat on a couch, flexing his fingers repeatedly.
Lounging on another couch, almost lazily, was a vulture.
"General Mason," Laserbeak hissed gleefully. "Welcome to our side."
Episode 32: The Mother of All Monsters (Part 1)
In the Houses of the Holy
To the middle of the mystic city
At the cradle of the world…
There's a black cat screaming
And it's not even midnight, no
At the cradle of the world…
—Lock Up The Wolves
"Home soil," Epps murmured happily as he looked out over the dock. "It's good to be back."
The last remnants of the original HARP had finally returned. The soldiers released by President Kassis milled about in the large New York harbour, staring out over the East River. The sun was out and shining, revealing the city in all its forgotten glory.
Epps let out a small, sad sigh.
"He really did a number on, this place…"
The city was still in ruins from Bludgeon's invasion, short-lived as it had been. The city was dark and unmoving, the population never having fully returned. People had died or fled during the battle and no-one wanted to return to the husk of a blighted city; a city filled with many memories. Memories of the lights flashing on Broadway… and the lights dying down on Broadway. Of sweat and work, of children laughing in the parks, of an atmosphere not found in any other city on the planet. A city of history, a city of stature, a city unlike any other. It was simply titanic, both in scale and design…
No longer. And Epps finally began to realise what this meant. Washington had history, Los Angeles had gloss, Detroit had grit… but New York was the soul of America. The beating heart, the centre of it all; no longer. The Big Apple was rotten. Its numbers would never return, it's heart would never beat again. The lights of Broadway were gone for good.
"What are you thinking about?" Mirage asked, coming up behind him.
Epps turned. "Just… the city. It's empty. The first major casualty in this war… as if it's saying America's next."
"And then the world?"
Epps nodded, staring out at the darkened skyscrapers.
Mirage scratched his chin. "I suppose it could be poetic."
"No…" Epps muttered bitterly. "It's just sad."
"It's sad, isn't it?" Laserbeak chuckled. "That after all your fighting, you're brought low by this…"
"And what are you doing here?" Mason hissed angrily.
"Don't make it any worse than it already is, Charles," Colt murmured, terror clearly written on his face.
"Me?" Laserbeak clucked. "I'm here to… negotiate. You get me what I want and no-one gets hurt… but otherwise…"
"If you're here to negotiate," Mason grumbled. "Why didn't you come through the Autobots?"
"Because these negotiations concern them," Laserbeak said slyly. "And they can be rather… obtuse when it comes to representatives of their opponents. Please, take a seat."
General Mason sat next to Samuel Colt and stared hard at the Decepticon spread out on the couch, arrogant in whatever supremacy he thought he had. Mason also noted that Callahan had not moved an inch or said one word.
"What's going on?" Mason asked, enraged.
"You see, we all have resources," Laserbeak announced. "You have the largest single military force in the world outside of China and North Korea, which will follow the orders of their President. While I, one single Decepticon with friends, have something even more valuable…"
Mason frowned hard.
What the hell is going on?
"Cut the crap," Callahan finally spoke, gruff and single-minded. "Mason; they have my daughter."
"Oh…"
"Poor little Cassie," Laserbeak cackled. "For now she has all her limbs and digits still attached. To keep that permanent, the Autobots must go."
Mason clenched a fist. Goddamnit…
He looked to Callahan.
Would he really take out the Autobots for a single life, as valuable as it is? If the deal was to kill a busload of soldiers, he would deny it immediately; but aliens… aliens who bring death and destruction wherever they go. To kick them off Earth…
"I think we may be able to come to that arrangement," Samuel Colt placated. "If we simply kick the Autobots out, then you'll—"
"You misunderstand me," Laserbeak interrupted. "I want no more Autobots pretending to leave, or Optimus pulling off any heroics, or having them hide in an engine booster; I want you to kill them all, with every resource you have available. I want no imagery, no stage executions, no flashing lights; I want you to send in your soldiers and wipe them out. All of them. Pull back your human soldiers if you want… but when the sun sets on this day, it must be the last one they ever see."
Mason looked to Callahan and instantly knew it was all over for HARP.
The curtain call… all for one little girl. He…
"Oh yes, one last thing," Laserbeak muttered. "I wouldn't think about suicide, Mr Callahan. Vice-President Thomas Chaplow is in our pocket and he would be very pleased to get rid of any elements that could stand in the way of his future world ruling. Amendment twenty-five's a bit of a bitch, isn't it?"
Colt and Mason looked startled at this revelation. Callahan simply closed his eyes, the smallest sigh escaping his lips.
Laserbeak leapt from the couch and flicked open a window with his tail before turning back to the Oval Office.
"That'll be all, gentlemen," he chuckled. "Just remember; when the sun rises in the morning, Optimus Prime and his soldiers must be in the ground… or your little girl will be instead."
He flew out, shooting into the sky.
There was nervous silence in the room.
"General Mason," Callahan finally uttered. "No matter who is dead by tomorrow, that little vulture fuck better be joining them."
"I assure you, sir," Mason replied. "That's the first thing on my mind."
"Well it shouldn't be," Colt muttered. "We need to dispatch all our agencies into finding the President's daughter—"
"Do you think I got elected because I'm stupid, Sam?" Callahan growled. "Every file that HARP gets comes by me first; that was Laserbeak and he works for Soundwave, a Decepticon who has his fingers in every intelligence network on the planet at the same time. He would know the NSA or the CIA would be looking for Cassandra before they would."
"Then…" Mason muttered.
"But can we really hold off the Decepticons with the troops we have at our disposal?" Colt questioned.
"Chicago and New York proved we can't," Callahan stated. "And, most recently, the whole world's gone to shit thanks to a coordinated Decepticon assault."
Neither Mason nor Colt had the nerve to raise Harbinger. More important matters were at hand.
"I can't believe Tommy's a traitor…" Colt hissed.
"It could just be trying to mess with our heads," Mason said uselessly.
"Either way, I can't trust anyone outside of this room," Callahan said. "Not Tommy, not Pierce, hell, not even my own Secret Service."
There was another nervous silence.
"So then…" Mason murmured at last. "What do we do?"
"Megatron's got it all planned," Overcast announced. "We're attacking tomorrow on American soil!"
Skyrender yawned as he sharpened his scythe. Crashdive simply stared up at the faraway Earth.
Overcast sighed and kicked the lunar dust.
"Frankly, I don't see why anyone bothers anymore!" he suddenly burst out. "Megatron, Starscream, Shockwave; they're all complete IDIOTS! This war's just been dragging on for centuries and the only proper attack we've done is WHEN WE WERE BEING POSSESSED! Add to the fact that the Decepticon left in charge of the hatchlings buggers off to Primus knows where with them! For Pit's sake, we're all so screwed! We might as well all just shoot each other in the heads for all that anything matters! And now we're attacking? We're actually doing something? After we've lost pretty much everything, including our dignity, seeing as we got saved by guys like the lieutenant? It all just… pisses me off! WHY CAN'T WE DO SOMETHING NOW!"
Crashdive turned, almost lazily, and stared at Overcast. He gave a derogatory sneer before turning back to the Earth.
Skyrender grunted, uninterested. "Fucking hell, take a stress pill mate. I'd rather remain alive in limbo than fuck off to a sepulchre as soon as possible."
Overcast pointed an accusing finger at Skyrender and cried; "You're new here, runt! YOU NEVER EVEN SAW CYBERTRON!"
"I know. And, actually, I'm kind of glad I never saw that piece of shit. From the sounds of things, you guys screwed it up pretty fucking bad back home."
Overcast glared with rage, almost ready to sock the other Decepticon when Crashdive coughed. It surprised them, for Crashdive never coughed; it was physically unneeded by cybertronians anyway.
He pointed up to space. The other two Decepticons looked as well…
Something flickered in the distance. Something large… and out of control.
They saw it headed towards Earth.
"We don't do nothin' now, do we fuckface?" Skyrender chuckled, transforming and shooting into space. "Let's get some of this new arrival!"
Crashdive followed him into the void.
"Or an old one," Overcast muttered.
He transformed and shot into the blackest ocean.
Arcee shot down the highway.
"Where's Optimus?" she asked hotly.
"HARP Washington," Ratchet replied. "You know, the plane's probably quicker…"
"Yeah right; frankly, I need to stretch my legs after being holed up in that boat for three days straight."
"Everything's going haywire; from what I can gather from the human rulers, the petition to kick us off the planet is going to be passed in the next couple of days."
"Well that sounds great," Arcee hissed. "But I also couldn't give a crap about any of that; give me Washington's coordinates."
"It looks like out last home before we're permanently exiled," Ratchet told her as he uploaded the location of HARP Washington. "In fact, this is probably our last journey…"
Arcee tensed as she swerved past a truck. "Don't speak like that… how's Sideswipe doing?"
"General Mason should never have revived him; he dropped unconscious as soon as he arrived in Casablanca. I'm afraid his chances of living through it are still critical. Bludgeon's wounds still bite deep…"
"What about Bumblebee and Sixshot?"
"We have no idea."
Arcee sighed.
It's all over, she admitted, the Earth's took too much of our shit and now it's kicking us off its surface. About time too…
She looked out to the sky and trees, all flying by.
But… I'll miss it. It's pretty in its own sort of way. And… full of wonder…
But I'll never fit in here. The alien. The outcast. The one whose already exiled… and to be exiled again, if the course is set—
Something blinked in the sky. It flashed, fast and quick.
What in Primus's name was that?
"Ratchet, something… I think something's just entered Earth's atmosphere."
"Yeah… yeah, I've got it on screen. Damn, Arcee, it's big…"
And that's when Arcee saw it.
Burning and tearing, a hulking shape sped through the sky in the direction of Arcee's destination.
What's more, she recognised it.
That's… that's a cybertronian ship!
She burned nitro and roared down the highway.
He stared from atop the pinnacle. To the passers-by below, he was just another bird, silhouetted against the midday sun, drinking in the landscape.
I've never seen a hive so low…
Atop the monument, Laserbeak listened in.
"So we are decided?"
Callahan coughed.
"We are decided."
Laserbeak idly scratched a claw.
Too easy. They did not even sweep the room for bugs after I had left. Master, wherever you are now, you'd no doubt be proud of what I'm accomplishing.
Something flickered in the sky. The vulture craned its neck up.
A lumbering cybertronian cargo-ship plummeted through the sky, headed for the outskirts of Washington D.C. Laserbeak watched it go with keen interest.
Finally, it smashed into the ground, throwing up a huge amount of dirt and spreading a shockwave that seemed to tilt the Monument itself. Many people down below screamed, believing the Decepticons returned.
Fools.
Laserbeak laboured up from the spire, while summoning the rest of the menagerie.
The early bird…
"Why is everyone heading to Washington?" Stacy asked.
The three of them sat in the confined and uncomfortable space aboard a C-5 Galaxy cargo aircraft. Poorly constructed chairs had been bolted to the floor so that the three kids and the last remnants of Kublak Han's HARP could return home.
"Where else would you begin a counter-strike?" Ryder asked. "Although I can't see how they'll do it…"
Marcus sat to the side, in silence. Stacy looked at him, a sad frown on her face.
Ryder looked at them both and rolled unseen eyes behind the darkened glasses. "Get over yourself kid. Now's the time to suck up and get ready for the war proper."
"'War proper?'" Stacy echoed. "What, the destruction of Kublak Han and the collapsing of a whole mountain doesn't count?"
"No. It doesn't. What's going to happen will kick all the preceding battles right out the window."
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad to inform you all that we will be coming into land shortly…" a tanoy announced.
"It was getting a bit cramped anyway," Ryder murmured. "I'm tempted to jump out of this coffin and hope to survive the landing—"
That's when three Seekers passed overhead. And when Skyrender, in a fit of wanton destruction, leaned inwards and slashed a wing with his scythe.
As the passengers screamed, the plane headed for Earth at a terminal speed.
Burning wreckage decorated the landscape. The crashed ship had cut straight through a forest, uprooting trees and burning through entire clearings.
Arcee rolled over mud and burnt soil. He wheels crunched over ash and soot as the sky began to turn crimson.
"Looks like this thing went on quite the journey," she whispered as she went ever so closer to the resting area of the new arrival.
I doubt anyone would survive this crash…
What the hell are the Decepticons up to?
She drove over a rise and saw the wrecked vessel. It had been completely totalled and smashed, having split into two different parts after its final resting. She cautiously approached.
It could be a bomb… or an entire detachment of troops.
She saw someone crawl out of a piece of debris.
…Or it could be a simple accident.
She transformed and cocked a rifle. It was time to put this 'con out of its misery.
She approached the injured cybertronian, her feet scraping through the detritus and ash. The injured alien had stopped moving, resting in the shade.
But as she got closer, she began to recognise him.
…I-It… it can't be…
Her pace increased.
Her steps became faster.
A groan left the mouth of the injured transformer.
Arcee began to run.
She leant over the crewmember of the ship and recognised his face.
"PROWL!" she cried, as energon leaked from his chest through her fingers. He coughed up some more and his optics turned on.
The former Autobot soldier had been one of the few to stay behind on Cybertron. Although he had left on the Ark with most of the Autobot soldiers, it hadn't been long before he had realised that the remaining Autobots on their planet wouldn't survive. He had left while on their voyage and returned to lead the rebellion. That had been many, many cycles ago; there was no possible way he could be here.
"A-Arcee…" Prowl coughed, energon leaking from many wounds sustained in the crash. "I-It's… it's good… to see… a friendly face… I thought… they had all… gone…"
"Shush, don't try to speak—"
"Shut up," the other Autobot muttered gruffly. "Tell… tell O-Optimus… that… sou… sound… that they are coming."
Arcee realised he wasn't going to make it.
"Who's coming? More Decepticons?"
"N-No… Ramjet… that little bastard… I was such a… a fool… they're coming…"
"Who's Ramjet?" Arcee asked desperately.
Several things thudded into the ground behind her. She didn't tear her optics from Prowl.
"Speak… speak to Optimus… they're all coming… coming to consume this world… and all who care… for freedom… they're no better… no better than Megatron and all the rest… angels… heh, how alien… but not angels… not angels… not gods… not gods… devils… DEVILS!"
He slipped into stasis lock.
"Have a look at this my little shits; a little lady all out alone, as night falls on this quaint little scene."
Arcee turned around, blaster in one hand, blade in the other.
Three Seekers faced off against her. Although she didn't recognise two of them, the one whose voice-box she'd ripped out was staring at her with manic hatred.
"Little fucking ladies shouldn't be out at night," Skyrender hissed, clutching his wicked scythe in both hands. "Only those who are fucking dead or who are ready to make other fuckers dead should be out at night…"
"You won't touch him, creep," Arcee said, resolute, readying her weapons.
Overcast drew a spear off his back, while Crashdive clutched his scimitar. The red sun reflected off the scythe's keen edge.
"Little lady's lost like a fucking sheep," Skyrender continued gleefully as the three of them began to circle her. "And I'm the motherfucking shepherd, tending to his motherfucking flock."
"You really need to shut up," Arcee hissed as she stepped back atop Prowl, protecting him like a new-born.
"You know what they say about red skies and shepherds, little sheep," Skyrender chuckled. "Red sky at morning, shepherd's warning…
Crashdive began stalking towards her. Overcast leapt atop one half of the ship. Arcee felt a twang of fear.
"Red sky at night…"
Skyrender leapt at her, scythe swinging, optics ablaze with insanity.
"SHEPHERD'S DELIGHT!"