Chapter 119 – Doubt

Joshua Joyce P.O.V

/Are you sure it's ''us'' you're makin' Joyce?/ the words of that smug Autobot roll around my head, taunting me. /''Or do they keep lookin' like somethin' else or someone else?/. In a fit of pique, I too kick angrily at some discarded rubbish on the ground, sending it flying. Though its impact is nowhere near as impressive as his had been, I yell my frustrations as it clatters to the ground. Several men in white coats send me concerned looks before they avert their gazes and try to look busy cleaning up. I ignore them. They are not of importance or consequence to me.

For a moment I stand there furious. My eyes surveying the carnage they wrought upon my property, my creations. /How dare they!/. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and pull at my jacket hem to ensure it once again sits properly and I look controlled and in charge. /Attinger! I must find him – those bastards know!/.

Turning on my heel I rush towards the exit and the upper levels, Gill and my other assistants scurrying in my wake. /I have to stop Prime, I have to prove to them what I am capable of, that what that self-righteous prick of a robot said is nonsense and that I am in control and can indeed make my own Transformers/. Yet, even as I hear my own footsteps pound down the hallways and I hear the distant sound of alarms as my team work to contain the damage caused, I feel it.

Doubt.

That nagging, clawing feeling in the pit of my stomach clamours for attention and my footsteps slow momentarily as I feel the doubt start to take hold. /How many iterations has it taken and he still looks like Megatron – not Prime!/. I pause near a window on the walkway, placing my hands on the white framing as I lean against them. I exhale deeply and lean my forehead on the cool glass. The math can't be wrong, the algorithms, I broke the code myself. /But something is wrong/. The small voice slithers across my conscience, or as some might say, what passes for it. /Perhaps… perhaps I need to../.

The sound of footsteps rushing up towards me and a familiar, agitated voice filled with indignant rage addresses me, putting paid to any further dissection of my mind. ''This is our chance, we have to stop him – YOU have to stop him, Joyce!''

I give a loud sigh and push off from the window, continuing on my path. I shake my head, ''It's never been tested in the field. Labs, military bases, but not on civilian streets.'' /Maybe it should never have been tested?/, that same thought mocks me.

Attinger continues to bark at me as we walk purposefully along the corridor, ''Down there a Defence Department contract was just attacked in a terrorist attack. This is now a CIA military op. You're indemnified.'' I stop walking as I weigh up what it is I am being asked, being forced to do. Attinger turns towards me, his face flushed with anger. ''Respond!''

I turn to face Gill, he looks as unsure as I feel. After a moment's hesitation, I give the nod, though it is with great reluctance. At the end of the day, I am a scientist, my passion is to explore boundaries, push them, manipulate them, but not blow them up and destroy them. As I glance back at Attinger his eyes are alight with excitement and a quiet fury that gives me pause yet again. With a small smile, I inform him of what I learned in the basement. ''They know Attinger.''

His eyebrows crinkle in confusion.

''The Autobots, those humans, they know about you, about me. They know everything.'' I feel a small bead of sweat roll down my face.

''What, even about my asset Lockdown and the trade-off of the seed for Prime?'' Attinger asks calmly.

''I cannot be sure, but I would say if they don't already know, it won't be much longer,'' I fix my gaze on him, expecting to see shock, concern or even fear and yet all I see is a sadistic smile spreading slowly across his features.

''Well then, all the more reason to stop him – stop them wouldn't you say?'' Attinger takes a menacing step towards me. ''Remember Joyce, this deal, your company, you're my golden parachute into retirement and I won't let anyone cut the lines before I am God damn good and ready. Not even some thirty-foot sentient robot and his misguided followers.'' Attinger continues to stare at me for a moment, as if he is trying to read me, before he turns on his heel and strides off towards the control room.

As I watch his form disappear down the hallway, I can't help but feel that perhaps I have created more than one monster.