As I Really Am

"Keep on them," Carver said. He and Van Cleef had been trailing after the Autobot vehicle carrying the Seal for some time now, following it deeper into the city while the battle with the Decepticons faded into the distance behind them. Travelling at the rear of their black bulletproof Escalade was an armoured van containing several armed Taskforce operatives. Reinforcements, a group of the very ones Carver had been waiting on since this whole attack had started. As for the Decepticon ship, it still hovered over the suburbs, firing down at the streets on occasion, likely blowing away a few houses in the process. One could very clearly see the vessel hovering in the distance, although now, as Carver travelled into the downtown area, the skyscrapers began to obscure that view. He figured that soon enough the Decepticons would shift their attention to the Seal, which was being carried in the Autobot known as Wheeljack. The Autobot's location was marked on the map displayed on the computer in the dashboard. Satellites above kept track of his movements, one of the many benefits that came with running a black ops organization.

Van Cleef was focused on the streets ahead. A lot of cars, some packed with belongings, were heading the same way, in this case away from the fighting. As for those vehicles heading in the opposite direction, there were several police cars and SWAT vans going towards the fighting. Carver pulled the radio from the dashboard, tuning into Taskforce frequencies while he watched the vehicles rush past.

"This is Carver," he said. "We have ourselves a Code Red. I need all available Taskforce personnel to converge on my position. Utilise GPS tracking to acquire my location." He put the radio down and turned towards the windshield. Van Cleef had halted the vehicle, as the intersection ahead had become fairly congested. A few police officers stood in the centre of the road, attempting to direct traffic.

"Shit," Van Cleef said. He reversed the vehicle somewhat, the rear end scraping the front of the van behind them. The Captain did not even bother to hit the indicator before he sent the four-wheel drive onto the sidewalk, honking the horn as he went, causing the pedestrians milling about ahead to scramble out of the way. The Taskforce van followed them as they took the illegal shortcut, not that Carver was very concerned with what the police would do. As for the traffic officers, they only watched as the pair of cars went tearing down the sidewalk.

"Where do you think they're headed, Colonel?" Van Cleef asked. He nodded towards the computer monitor in the dashboard. Wheeljack had gone onto the Las Vegas Strip. Carver watched the display for a moment, the possibilities playing out in his mind.

"They know they'd be better off in the shelter of the city," Carver said. "Out in the desert they'd be exposed. They would willingly go into a population centre and bring the wrath of the Decepticons down on them in the process." He shook his head. "These Autobots are as destructive as the Decepticons. All the more reason to kill the lot of them." He pulled his Wildey pistol from the holster at his waist and removed the magazine from it, checking it over the ensure it was packed with the full seven rounds. They were of the specialized .475 Wildey hunting cartridge, the sort of ammunition one would use if they were worried about running into a wild elephant. Carver had more than a few pistols in his possession, though he had come to like the Wildey in particular, if only for its raw stopping power. He slammed the magazine home and worked the slide, before ensuring the safety was on. He slid it back into its holster, knowing full well he would be putting it to use shortly. Darby and Esquivel threatened to expose the Taskforce, to expose him. He had not planned for years just to have it undone so near to his victory. He needed the public on his side, following his narrative. Having his true intentions all over the media would turn many people against him. For all he knew, Darby and Esquivel could have already passed on the information to a media outlet. All the more reason to get moving even faster than he already was.

"Just get us to them, Captain," Carver said. "And don't get us killed."

Downtown Las Vegas was somewhat better off from the panic happening on the edge of the city. News of the battle raging in the suburbs spread quickly and the sounds of it were audible, even on the Las Vegas Strip. The streets were starting to fill up with those seeking a way out, while the police were doing their best to direct the increasingly volatile mass of panicked citizens. Jack noticed that a lot of people were heading into the many casinos and restaurants, either oblivious to the threat the Decepticons posed or simply apathetic. Sure, the fighting may have been happening some distance away, but Jack was surprised at how subdued the panic here was compared to what he had seen in the suburbs. At least here the authorities were somewhat more organized, presumably because they were not being blown away by armed Decepticons. Even the National Guard was on the move, trucks full of 'weekend warriors' heading in the opposite direction while Wheeljack, in vehicle mode, tore onto the Vegas Strip.

Darby was seated in the driver's seat, the steering wheel moving on its own accord. He had never been to Las Vegas and he might have appreciated the experience more were it happening under better circumstances. High above, a squadron of five fighter jets roared overhead, heading in the direction of Cyclonus' ship. He wondered how much difference they could make against the superior technology Cyclonus' personal yacht wielded. From prior experiences, the regular military had never fared very well against the Decepticons. It was only the Taskforce, with is prototype weaponry, that had managed to take the fight to them. It was a shame, then, that they were fighting the Decepticons for some of the wrong reasons. Not that Carver saw it that way. It was apparent to Jack that Colonel Carver saw himself as some kind of saviour of humanity. I should have noticed this a lot sooner.

Rafael sat in the passenger's seat. He appeared to be relaxed, although this was likely a thin veneer to cover whatever actual anxiety he was feeling. He looked over to Jack then, his eyes narrowed inquisitively through his glasses.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"We're getting away from the Decepticons," Jack replied. That was really the extent of it, as he had not thought any farther ahead. The plan to break into the Taskforce compound had only been made as far as the escape. After that, he had no idea what they would do. Part of him had been fully expecting to get killed prior to reaching the "escape" part of the plan. It was both a surprise and a relief that he was still breathing. He figured he should have a bit more confidence in himself, even if the odds were sorely stacked against him.

"Desert's too open, kid," Wheeljack said, his voice filtering through the speakers on the dashboard. "We've got better protection in here."

"Yeah, by putting civilians between us and the Decepticons," Rafael said, his voice laced with disdain.

"You got any better ideas?" Wheeljack sounded annoyed. "I could pull over and let you out right here, if you want."

"That won't be necessary," Jack interjected. Wheeljack had never been the patient sort. He was likely under a fair bit of stress, Jack could certainly empathise. Up ahead, the Vegas Strip continued for some distance, casinos and night-clubs on both sides. People lined the sidewalks and traffic had become thick. A lot of the people here seemed almost oblivious to the alien attack occurring on the outskirts.

"We need to find General Williamson," Rafael said. "We can show him the information we found. Turn the military against Colonel Carver."

"And where's the General?"

"At a private section of the airport," Rafael replied. "According to the most recent files, anyway."

Wheeljack had been travelling at a fairly rapid pace, weaving in and out of traffic where he could, ensuring that they never stopped, even at red lights. Apparently the police were too busy with certain other emergencies to notice his reckless driving and had it been a human at the wheel, Jack might have worried for his own safety. The reflexes of an Autobot, however, were considerably better. He could trust Wheeljack to keep them out of an accident.

Apparently not out of the sights of the enemy, judging from the purple shot of energy that sailed through the air from somewhere further ahead and up high. It left a searing contrail behind it as it travelled, the bolt of energy striking the road in front of the Autobot, causing a flash of white flame that erupted forth and sent Wheeljack swerving as he worked to avoid it. The panic on the streets, amongst the many pedestrians, was immediate. A smouldering crater had been left in the road and Wheeljack swept around it, only for another shot to sear his left side and strike the ground next to him. The force of the explosion sent him airborne and Jack found himself lurching about in his seat, the seatbelt remaining in place as Wheeljack, in his vehicle mode, rolled through the air and landed on one side. The side windows shattered and Jack was shaken violently, his neck rubbing against the seatbelt hard enough and fast enough to burn considerably. The whole ordeal was over in seconds, leaving Wheeljack himself stunned while he lay on his side in the middle of the road. Gravity got the better of him and he fell back onto all four wheels, causing Jack and Rafael to once again bounce painfully in their seats, their stomachs feeling as if they had been left hanging in the air by a few feet.

The doors on both sides swung open and Jack was quick to tear out his seatbelt. He looked over to Rafael, who appeared to be all right if understandably shaken. Jack climbed out of the car, his legs wobbling underfoot. Rafael did the same. As for Wheeljack, he had suffered a number of scuffs and scrapes, the windows on his right side having all shattered. His windshield was also cracked.

There was screaming from the crowds on the street. People were rushing for cover now, packing themselves through the entrances of the surrounding buildings. Another shot struck the ground nearby, the concussive blast of air that blew forth from the explosion enough to knock Jack over. He was dimly aware of Wheeljack transforming, coming to stand in full biped mode with a fusion cannon clutched in his arms. The Seal of Nova Prime was clipped to his back, glinting in the light of the sun.

Jack rose onto his feet and started to run. He rushed by Rafael, grabbing him with one arm as the Decepticon sniper fired again. Wheeljack dived the opposite way, somersaulting as he landed, the shot zooming by him before it hit a parked car on the narrow grassed traffic islands in the middle of the Strip. The car burst into flame, its smoking hulk sent flying several metres backwards where it smashed into another vehicle and shattered its windshield.

"Get out of here!" Wheeljack shouted, glancing back to Jack. The young man did not need to be told twice. He turned and ran, his neck burning and right shoulder aching from the tumble he had taken with the vehicle. He dragged Rafael along after him, ensuring that the younger man followed him and did not become separated. Rafael carried the flash drive containing the information they had stolen from the Taskforce. Keeping him close by and safe was imperative.

Wheeljack raised the fusion cannon and fired a shot in the general direction of the Decepticon sniper. Jack turned his head, following the blast as it sped through the air. He glimpsed the Decepticon on a rooftop at the end of the street, about two hundred metres downrange. The Decepticon, tall and with a green and purple finish, ducked out of sight as the fusion cannon blast hit the front of the building at the top floor. Windows smashed and fire leapt forth, raining shards of glass onto the street below.

Jack continued running, going for the nearest building. Rafael followed and the pair found themselves weaving by the panicked civilians rushing along the sidewalk. People were pushing and shoving, shouting at each other or simply through fear. The glass double doors ahead were wide open and people were rushing inside the casino, an Asian themed one at that, with two large red-painted dragon statues at the entrance, one to either side of it. The security guard inside the lobby was hard-pressed to control the rushing throng of people, as some clambered over one another to get outside, looking to take their chances on escaping the battle. Others sought shelter within, presumably in whatever basement this casino had.

Jack had no idea where he was going to go now. A casino hardly seemed the place to escape from Decepticons, or the Taskforce for that matter. Yet here he was, rushing into a large open lobby with lush red carpet and Asian-themed decor all over the walls. Slot machines were arranged in rows to the far right and a bar was off to the left. Beyond this, blackjack and craps tables, several of each, arranged a short distance outside of a partitioned restaurant area.

The pair came to a stop outside of the bar. Rafael looked over to Jack, doing his best to catch his breath.

"I need a phone," he said.

"Why?"

"To contact the General," Rafael replied. "He could help us."

"He probably thinks we're traitors."

"It's a chance we'll have to take." Rafael had a point. They had nowhere else to go, with Decepticons outside and Taskforce operatives no doubt in the process of tracking them down.

Jack looked around. There may have been about forty people scattered around the large room. Several were at one of the many games tables, either ignorant of the battle happening outside or not particularly worried. The bartender at the bar behind them was still in business, filling a glass for one patron while an explosion thumped from somewhere outside. Jack had confidence that Wheeljack could look after himself, as much as he wanted to go out there and attempt to help. However, he knew exposing the Taskforce was far more important. That meant sticking with Rafael.

Jack walked up to the bar. The bartender, a tall East Asian man who looked to be middle-aged, watched him with a noticeably curious gaze.

"I need to use a phone," Jack said. The bartender considered the request for a moment before pointing, with one hand, towards the far end of the room. There were about half a dozen pay-phones in the wall that were not immediately obvious from the angle Jack was standing.

Jack motioned Rafael to follow him and the pair made their way over to one of the phones.

"Do you know his number?" Jack asked. Rafael nodded his head in the affirmative.

"I memorised it when I was going through the files," Rafael replied. He recited it quickly and Jack tapped in each number after dropping a few coins into the machine.

He waited expectantly for a response. The phone rang about five times before someone finally picked it up. A secretary of some sort, a man who sounded annoyed in the sense that he likely had more important duties to attend to. Answering a seemingly innocuous phone call was apparently not on his list of priorities.

"I need to speak to General Williamson," Jack said.

"Yeah? A lot of people want to speak with the General. May I ask who you are?"

"This is Agent Jack Darby of Unit-E, currently a wanted fugitive. I'm sure the General is well aware of who I am. Go and find him and tell him that I want to talk. Tell him it's urgent." Jack knew he was taking a serious gamble. Williamson had never struck him as the affable sort in any of the encounters he had had with the man in the past. He seemed high strung for a military General. Presumably the stress of the work was to blame for that.

"Darby? Shit, all right. Hold on a moment."

Jack looked over to Rafael. He did not wish to make any premature celebrations, but he gave his friend a thumbs-up nonetheless. There was an audible 'click' on the other end of the line then as the secretary transferred the call. Williamson's gruff voice broke in through the line, a frustrated tone to his voice.

"You've got a lot of balls calling me after everything that's happened, Darby," Williamson said.

Colonel Carver picked up the radio from the dashboard. One of their operatives was calling him in particular. Outside, they had come to a stop at a street corner about ten minutes away from the Vegas Strip. The sounds of a battle were very audible, as were the sounds of panic while people and vehicles scrambled to get out of the downtown area. Van Cleef sat with his hands resting on the wheel, waiting for Carver to give the go-ahead. They had stopped here upon hearing the sounds of the fighting. Going headlong into a battle between the Autobots and Decepticons would be foolhardy, even with backup. Letting the two sides duke it out seemed like the wiser decision.

"This is Carver," the Colonel said as he raised the radio near his mouth.

"Colonel, sir, we're tracing a call being made to General Williamson," the operative at the other end of the line replied. "It's Jack Darby. He's attempting to make contact."

Carver knew immediately what this meant.

"Patch it through to my vehicle," he said. "And as soon as you get a lock on Darby's location, send it to my computer." He had to wait a moment for the operative to make the appropriate adjustments. As soon as they were done, both Williamson's and Darby's voices came through quite clearly from the speakers on the dashboard.

"Sensitive information?" Williamson sounded curious. "You better not be lying to me, Darby, or there'll be hell to pay."

"I wouldn't have called you if this was a lie,"

Jack replied. He sounded frustrated. Being on the run and getting shot at by Taskforce operatives and Decepticons had likely taken its toll on the young man. Nonetheless, Carver found himself respecting him at least a little for having come as far as he had. Jack Darby was no soldier. A three week weapons course hardly made him one. Yet against all odds, he had pushed through. So much so he was in the position to undo much of Carver's work. When it came to getting Darby and Esquivel, Carver would not take any chances. Hence the team of a dozen men he had in the van following him. More were on the way.

"Carver plans to kill you. He plans on doing a whole lot more. I can give you everything we pulled out of their database. You just have to come and get me and my friend." Jack was certainly playing a dangerous game. Carver would ensure it would be the death of him.

"I've got problems of my own, Darby. There's a Decepticon attack happening in Las Vegas..."

"And I'm right there. At the Four Dragons Casino. Come and get us, arrest us, whatever. Just do it fast."

There was a pause. Williamson, that old fool, was most certainly considering his options. Turning against the Taskforce was something he would be reluctant to do, but somehow Carver knew that in the old General's head there was still a modicum of self-respect. A sense of doing what was "right".

"I'll send a car out. Be at the casino's rear entrance in fifteen minutes." With that, the General hung up. Carver put the radio back on its holder and turned to Van Cleef, who had been listening carefully to the conversation as well. On Carver's laptop, his visual representation of the city gained another blinking red marker, this one labelled with 'J. DARBY'.

"Let's go, Captain," Carver said. "We don't want to keep our friends waiting."

Wheeljack had expected some kind of ambush. It was inevitable, especially since he was carrying around the latest ancient relic to fall into Autobot hands. The Seal of Nova Prime was at his back, providing an odd tingling sensation all the while he rushed through the Las Vegas Strip. He did his best to ignore the feeling, his attention focused very much on the Decepticon sniper taking shots at him from further down the street. He was exposed, he knew this much, and after depositing Jack and Rafael after taking a tumble, the Autobot Wrecker had started to move. He let fly with a few shots from his fusion cannon, sending them in the Decepticon's general direction. The weapon's shots travelled too slowly for them to be effective at such a distance, as the intended target could simply move well clear of them before they hit him. Nonetheless, it was a delaying tactic, a means for Wheeljack to send the Decepticon sniper into cover while he rushed for cover of his own. Down here, this cover amounted to turning a corner and taking shelter in the shadow of a tall building, scaring the civilians scattered about the sidewalk as he moved. With his back to the building's front, Wheeljack surveyed the surrounding area and considered his options.

He was alone, from what he could tell. The human civilians rushing by him would not be of much help. As for the Decepticon sniper, he only had to lean his head slightly around the building's corner for the sharpshooter to take a shot at him. The supersonic bolt of energy slammed into the side of the building, causing Wheeljack to duck back behind it as a chunk of the wall exploded outwards, a thick cloud of dust pluming onto the road. Collateral damage would be a problem here, Wheeljack knew this much, and he realised that the Autobots already looked bad enough in the eyes of the general population. A battle in the streets of Las Vegas would hardly make him look like a hero. Not that he cared much. He had never seen himself as a "hero", simply a soldier, a warrior who had seen far too much fighting for one lifetime. Someone who's life had been nothing but war from very early on. He knew that a life in peacetime was hardly suitable for him. He had remained on Cybertron out of a sense of obligation, to help rebuild the world that the war had ravaged so thoroughly. And when trouble had started here on Earth only days before, he had been practically excited. The opportunity to take part in some actual combat after several cycles spent labouring on Cybertron had been a thrilling one. That sensation had been fleeting at best. Knock Out's death had put a crimp on the whole thing. He may not have liked the former Decepticon doctor a great deal, nor had he trusted him very much, but he had still been a part of the group. Even Wheeljack had to admit that the doctor had done his fair share for Cybertron's reconstruction.

As game as assaulting the Taskforce headquarters had been, it had lead to the unfortunate scenario of being stuck in hostile territory with no escape plan. Wheeljack had gone along with the plan just fine, he had wanted to take down the Taskforce just as much as the others. He had, however, not thought any further ahead than that. Escape had been the least of his concerns. Part of him had expected him to die during the assault. That expectation of death had always been there for him, no matter the odds. It had only become more pronounced in recent days. What was it Knock Out had asked him, in the workshop before they had come to Earth? What would he do once everything was over? Would he "settle down"? He had always expected to go down in a blaze of glory. A normal life, to him, had been an unlikely future.

It was all the more unlikely now, in his current circumstances. Wheeljack checked his fusion cannon. There was a significant amount of charge left. It would do him little good unless he could close the distance with that sniper. Even now, the Decepticon sniper was likely on the move, trying to flank around his sides. Wheeljack headed down the street on his left, continuing further into the side-streets, ignoring the panicked humans who rushed by him. He did his best not to step on any, or step on any vehicles for that matter.

Heading around a corner, Wheeljack spotted a Decepticon soldier at the far end of the street. This one was a fairly burly one, broad-shouldered and with a silver and purple finish. The Decepticon had been marching through the streets, likely in a bid to flank him. He spotted the Autobot Wrecker and shouted an alert into his comms. Wheeljack dived behind a parked car as a hail of high-calibre rounds flew his way. The Decepticon wielded a large chain-gun, loaded with armour-piercing rounds. The bullets were about the size of one of Wheeljack's fists with considerable penetrating power. Even though Cybertronian weaponry had advanced to the point of being energy-based, there were still plenty of projectile weapons around and they were often just as useful, if not more so in some circumstances. It was no surprise Cyclonus' ragtag army of Decepticons had a mix of weapons, old and new, in their armouries.

The bullets pounded through the parked car, punching holes clean through its engine. Wheeljack felt the sting as a few of them clipped him in the upper back. He rolled to one side, crossing the narrow street quickly before coming back up on his feet. He fired a shot from his fusion cannon before he jumped into the narrow alley running between a pair of fairly low buildings at his side. The fusion cannon blast hit the front of the restaurant near where the Decepticon stood, causing the whole facade to explode outwards in a flash of pink-white flame. The Decepticon soldier stumbled a few steps as bricks and glass rained down on him before he composed himself and resumed firing, sweeping the hail of bullets across the entire side-street. Tracer rounds, bright orange as they flew, slammed into the road and then the sidewalk, causing small eruptions of smoke and dust as they connected with the ground. Wheeljack remained in the alley as the hail of fire swept across its entrance, shattering the glass frontages of the buildings nearby. Several civilians were caught in the crossfire, the rounds enough to rip them to shreds. Wheeljack caught a glimpse of a woman racing for the alley entrance, a terrified look on her face before a stray shot from the Cybertronian chain-gun turned her into a red mist.

And then the shooting stopped. Wheeljack heard the recognizable sounds of a reload in progress and he rushed out of the alley, his gaze going straight for the Decepticon. The Decepticon soldier in question was fiddling with his weapon, attempting to fit a full magazine into the bottom, the chain of ammunition seemingly not fitting in as well as it should have been. Wheeljack raised his fusion cannon and started charging forwards, all the while the Decepticon soldier worked his weapon over, his movements becoming increasingly frantic, even more so when a worried glance around him made him realise he was completely exposed.

Wheeljack pulled the trigger on his fusion cannon, the blast that lanced forth connecting squarely with the Decepticon's chest. Flame shot forth and the Decepticon fell backwards. Wheeljack fired again, blowing his head apart mid-fall, before the Decepticon's body fell upon a parked car and crushed it with his weight. The car alarm began to sound as glass shattered all over the surrounding ground. Wheeljack closed the distance between him and the Decepticon gunner, sending another fusion cannon shot into him, blowing one arm clear off his torso. As the smoke cleared, Wheeljack lowered the weapon and looked around. Most of the humans had cleared the street by now, leaving several shredded corpses and wrecked vehicles. Another car alarm was sounding from further behind him, the car having received a chain-gun round through the front windshield.

How many more 'Cons are there?

Wheeljack considered where to go next. There was still the sniper somewhere up ahead. Ultra Magnus and Wildstrike were likely held up back at the compound. Cyclonus' ship, he realised, was now moving towards the downtown area. Wheeljack turned around and caught a glimpse of it between the casinos behind him, although the ship itself was still distant. Nearby, a car had been left abandoned, the doors wide open.

Wheeljack considered going back to find Jack and Rafael, dimly aware of the sound of a jet engine growing in volume from behind him. He heard movement up ahead at that point. A Decepticon emerged from around a corner further down the street, at least he assumed it was a Decepticon at first. This Cybertronian was tall, mostly red and orange in colour, with a crest upon its head similar to those that Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus had upon their helms. The cold blue optics, even at this distance, stood out starkly against this broad-shouldered Cybertronian's silver-metal features. And then Wheeljack saw the Autobot insignia emblazoned upon the Cybertronian's chest.

"Star Saber..." Wheeljack muttered with realization.

Bumblebee had told him about Star Saber. The Autobot religious zealot who had tortured the yellow Autobot and killed Knock Out. Wheeljack started shooting as soon as he made the connection.

Star Saber casually stepped into cover as a fusion cannon blast zipped by him, hitting a far building. There was a rush of pinkish-white flame. Debris rained down onto the street and another car alarm joined in with the others currently resounding throughout the neighbourhood. Behind Wheeljack, a feminine flier had come to stand upon the low building at the corner.

Star Saber was just visible, but stood at an angle that Wheeljack could not get a proper shot at. The Autobot Wrecker began to pace forwards, clasping his fusion cannon in his left hand while his right went for one of the grenades clipped to his waist. Behind him, the Decepticon flier raised a heavy Cybertronian pistol in his direction.

Wheeljack armed the grenade. Part of it lit up green in his hand. He raised his arm, preparing to throw it. A gunshot echoed from behind him, catching him off guard. Pain shot across his back and then his front, the Autobot Wrecker forced to stop in his tracks as the force of the shot made his legs fail underneath him. Feeling warmth across his back and chest, he looked down as he fell to his knees onto the road.

A smouldering hole had been shot into his back. He struggled to rise onto his feet, but his strength was leaving him rapidly. The world around him began to wobble and his grip on his fusion cannon slackened. The weapon fell, clattering onto the blacktop next to him. He turned around, recognition striking him as he laid optics on the one who had shot him.

"Skystreaker?" He croaked. Another shot rang out and hit him in the upper chest. He fell backwards, the grenade leaving his grip before it rolled to a stop a short distance away.

Skystreaker jumped down from the low building and started walking towards him. Wheeljack tried to push himself back up but his arms did not respond to the commands he sent them. The grenade next to him detonated and heat washed over him, followed very quickly by a wave of agonizing pain that was very much unlike anything he had experienced before. Metal melted and tore from the force of the blast, causing him to scream.

Mangled and shot, Wheeljack struggled to keep his optics from failing as Skystreaker moved to stand over him. He reached out, as futile as it was, with his right arm. The metal on there was maimed, energon fluid leaking out of numerous lacerations. He realised his right optic had gone and he could feel that entire half of his face burning. He looked up at Skystreaker, trying to work out what had compelled her to do what she did. The look in her optics was not the one he had become familiar with. This one was different, brighter, more unstable. She knelt down beside him and turned him over, tearing the Seal away from where he had clipped it. And then she stood up, leaving him lying on the road while Star Saber strode over. He eyed Wheeljack with what looked to be disdain. On his face, only his optics were visible, his battle-plate covering up the rest of it.

Skystreaker raised her weapon and went to aim it down at Wheeljack, but Star Saber put a hand out, causing her to lower the gun.

"We should keep this one," Star Saber said. Wheeljack watched him, struggling to remain conscious through the agony-induced haze.

"He'd want to be put out of his misery," Skystreaker replied, coldly.

"And we will deny him that wish." Star Saber looked down at Wheeljack, his optics narrowed if little else. Wheeljack tried to move, tried to go for the sword at his back but his arms did not respond. They fell slack against the pavement, as did the rest of him, and he fell into unconsciousness seconds later. It was a blessing, in a way, for in this state he did not feel the pain his mangled body caused him.

Doubletake had arrived on the Vegas Strip shortly after Wheeljack and had seen the Decepticon sniper take shots at the Autobot Wrecker. Wheeljack fled into a side-street and Doubletake had followed at a distance. Seeing the sniper on the rooftop, Doubletake had decided to take a shot at beating the sniper at his own game. He began to scale the side of one of the casinos, using the ledges and balconies for support. Across the city to his rear, Cyclonus' ship began its path towards the downtown area. And hanging from one of the thick cables trailing from the ship's lower ramp was Ultra Magnus, determined as ever to get to Cyclonus. Doubletake had to look twice when he saw this, although he found that he was not all that surprised. Ultra Magnus was the determined sort and hanging from a Decepticon ship over an urban centre was well within his character.

Whatever else Doubletake thought of the matter, he did not get much of a chance to properly put those thoughts together. A high powered rifle shot from afar zipped by him as he raced down the now mostly deserted Strip. It hit the road behind him, causing an explosion of debris. Doubletake immediately swerved to the left, sending himself barrelling around a corner as another shot blew a chunk out of the building in front of him. Windows shattered and masonry fell, while an elaborate neon sign erupted into sparks.

He caught a glimpse then, of Wheeljack being dragged away by Skystreaker. This happened on a side-street past one of the casinos and Doubletake made it around in time to see the female Decepticon step aboard a small Decepticon transport parked at the far end of the street. The Autobot emerged from vehicle mode and raised his weapons, knowing immediately that some kind of betrayal had occurred. However, the rear ramp of the squat utilitarian transport closed shut and the volley of submachine gun fire he let fly did very little against the transport's armour. It took off, rising over the surrounding buildings before its engines properly kicked in and sent it zooming over the city, a sonic boom erupting from it as it broke the sound barrier far faster than any human aircraft.

Doubletake found himself alone in the street. Not quite alone, he realised, when he glimpsed the sniper on a rooftop further ahead. Racing into cover behind the nearby casino, he checked over his submachine gun and considered his options. Facing off with a Decepticon sniper was not something he was particularly bound to enjoy, but it would be necessary.