Hello, everyone! This is my third and final installment to my Darkness series! So for those who are coming across this for the first time, I highly recommend to go back and start with Darkness of the Soul, or you will be LOST. I try my best to recap, but it is impossible to cram two fanfictions into one chapter. So go read it now. Right now.

Back?

Good, carrying on. As I worked on two whole fanfictions before this one, this story is the most planned. I know where I want to take it, but as those returning know, expect slow updates. That said, a huge thank you to those that have followed me since the beginning of Darkness of the Soul. This has been an incredible journey and I'm so excited to give this epic conclusion to you.

For those old and new, I hope you all enjoy! Stay safe and healthy!

Special thanks: Karrashi, who drew all three covers of Darkness. Rian Moeru, who assisted me writing some parts of Darkness and co-author to several of my other stories. Aethelgythe and TheLionFart, who helped beta some of the previous installments.

Disclaimer: Nearly all the characters are products of Hasbro. Sadly, I do not own Transformers: Prime, or any Transformers for that matter. That said, this story contains heavy spoilers for the show, but I assume that's why you're here.

Warnings: violence, swearing, heavy angst, psychological torture, trigger warnings that will later be addressed

All Jack saw was destruction.

The empty shells of ruined buildings surrounded him. Nearly every window was blown own, leaving behind shards of glass that looked like jagged fangs. Black scorch marks had long replaced vibrant colors.

Skyscrapers crumbled to the ground. Some leaned on others, as the cruel grip of gravity dragged them down. Some had long fallen into mountains of rubble. The broken streets were filled with abandoned and overturned cars. Faceless, mutilated bodies were left to rot.

Rivers of molten lava flowed across the ruined land, churning and spitting, melting everything in their path. The bright, hellish glow combated against the impenetrable cloak of darkness. Twisted bolts of purple lightning streaked across the pitch-black sky.

Then the world began to tremble.

Great fissures stretched across the surface of the Earth. The air reverberated with the roars of shattering rock and transforming metal. Great, gleaming towers rose. Long and sharp and curved. Like horns.

More and more appeared, splitting the planet apart. Like a vicious beast tearing at the walls of its prison. There were claws… then fangs. Limbs branched out into the vastness of space. Followed by an astronomical mass, as large as the Earth itself. Celestial wings unfurled.

Then there was a monstrous, wicked roar. It echoed across the universe, promising death to even the farthest galaxies. It was filled with a furious hate, one that had been brewing since the beginning of time. And eons of resentment had only made it stronger.

I… AWAKEN…

Finally, Jack realized what he was seeing.

The end of the world.

Jack screamed.

He shot up into a sitting position, desperately gasping for air. His body trembled, even as sweat coated his skin. The boy fought through the haze of disorientation to recognize the shadows of the room around him. After several long moments, he realized where he was. He was in his own private suite in the barracks of Cape Canaveral.

Jack sighed. It was just another nightmare. He had hoped they were getting better. Usually his dreams were based on the dark memories of his past, but this one was… different. It felt more intense. It felt more real.

The teenager closed his eyes, trying push the graphic images away. He tried to steer his focus to something. The day's date. What was the date?

Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze to the alarm clock set on his nightstand. He stared at the set of numbers until they were etched into his brain. It was only then Jack that remembered.

Mom was supposed to be cleared from the hospital today.

The realization came with a myriad of emotions: joy, excitement, relief, anxiousness, shame and guilt. It was his fault that she was there in the first place. It took June Darby weeks to recover, after the bullet lodged in her stomach. The bullet that was meant for Jack's skull.

Even after multiple surgeries, it took time for her body to mend the grievous wound. Longer still, for her to regain her strength. But her doctor, Gonzalez, the same man that treated Jack, determined she was strong enough to be discharged.

Lieutenant Colonel William Lennox said he already arranged a room in the barracks for the both of them, so June could join her son. At least now, Jack no longer had to visit her at a certain hour for a limited amount of time. They wouldn't be separated anymore. They could be a family again.

The thought was enough to elevate Jack's mood, banishing the nightmare from his mind. He quickly untangled himself from the sheets. The dim light pouring through the shutters of the window told it was still early in the morning. Usually he would roll over and drift back to sleep, but he found himself alert and awake. The sooner he saw Mom, the better.

Making up his mind, he got up to get ready for the day ahead of him. Thankfully his suite came with its own bathroom, rather than the community one that the soldiers shared. Jack appreciated that Lennox had considered his privacy.

The teenager turned the knob in the shower, having a steady stream of water fall onto the tiled floor. He peeled off his boxers, shivering as the air-conditioned air bit at his bare skin. When several seconds ticked by, he cautiously stuck his hand into the jet of water to check its temperature.

Only for frigid needles to sink into his hand.

"How about a bath?"

Jack cried out as the cruel, unwanted voice echoed in his ears. He recoiled from the assaulting water, only to violently ram into the sink.

"Easy, now."

The teen gripped the edges of the counter so tight that his knuckles turned white, trying to ground himself to reality.

"See? I told you that you'll enjoy it."

Jack desperately tried to banish the images that invaded his mind. Cruel hands clawing him, pulling him, hurting him. Blades and sadistic instruments digging into his flesh. Laughter, even as he begged. Then there was the black, icy, freezing water—

"Put him under."

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. The teenager panted heavily, trying to fill his air with lungs. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, like it was going to burst out of his chest. Something in Jack's mind, something clinical, diagnosed he was having an anxiety attack.

Calm down. You need to calm down.

He cycled through several breathing exercises, but none of them seemed to work. Then Dr. Gardner's sharp voice pierced the haze of panic.

"What street did you grow up on?"

Pebble Road.

"What was the next street over?"

Hodge.

"What was the one after that?"

Keenan.

With each question, the remnants of the visions faded. Jack's body was shaking and his heart was pounding, but the sheer panic that had invaded his mind was gone. He let out a shuddering breath. The sessions were working.

For the past month, Jack had been visiting the psychologist stationed at the base. Rachel Gardner tended to soldiers that returned home, but brought the war with them. Like with her other patients, she taught Jack how to cope with his anxiety and post-traumatic stress. Sometimes, if the teenager was having a bad day, Dr. Gardner would make adjustments to her schedule to see him.

Usually Jack would be against the idea. He had never been interested in talking in a therapist about his problems. He preferred to deal with them himself, rather than be a burden to others. It was only recently the teenager became more comfortable talking about it. Because Dr. Gardner listened.

She never judged him, she never shamed him. She knew the horrors of MECH were still fresh in Jack's mind.

The paramilitary organization, led by its crazed leader, Silas, were obsessed with Transformers. They wanted the alien technology for themselves, as part of their mission to spread chaos. Then they found out there was dark energon running through Jack's blood. And they wanted it.

Sweat sticking his raven-black hair to his brow, Jack glanced up at the mirror. Only for a stranger's reflection to stare back at him. Pale scars of every shape and size littered his body. They crisscrossed over his torso, forming disturbing, abstract patterns across his skin. Most of them, Jack could conceal from prying eyes with multiple layers. Except for the long, curved mark across his cheek, right below his eye.

A permanent reminder of what MECH did to him. What Marcus did to him.

A sadistic torturer that Silas had hired, tasked to unlock the secrets of Jack's abilities. By any means necessary. He could still see the blood on his own hands. He could still feel the wetness, when he slashed the knife across Marcus's throat…

Suddenly a wave of disgust washed over Jack, as if he was covered with a layer of filth. He retreated back into the shower. By now the water had grown warm, but not enough. He turned the dial as far it would go, until the water was scalding, burning his skin. But it was much preferable than the cold.

When Jack finally emerged from the shower, his white complexion had turned into a bright pink. He slipped on a pair of jeans and a black crew-neck T-shirt. He usually preferred long-sleeves for the brisk air-conditioning of school and the chilly nights of the desert. But in Florida, it was hot during the day and the night. Usually the teenager wouldn't mind, but it was a different kind of heat than Nevada.

Unlike the desert's dry climate, the atmosphere of the East Coast was humid. The air was wet and heavy, almost suffocating. In Jasper, Jack could stand outside until the scorching sun became too much to bear. Here, the sticky heat would greet him like a slap to the face.

Jack left the confines of the bathroom, crossing the short distance of his room to snatch his cell phone. Glancing at the screen, he was greeted by several text messages. He wasn't surprised that the first one came from Ratchet.

Preceptor and I prepared another dosage for you. Come to Hanger E to retrieve it.

Jack could practically hear the old Autobot's bossy bark behind it. Rather than immediately answering it, he continued scrolling.

Hola! Raf had texted. I hope things go well at the hospital!

Hey, how is everything with you? Miko chirped. Just don't forget about us, okay? I only have two weeks left before I have to go back home!

Jack cringed at the reminder. The end of her parents' extension was drawing near. After the incident with MECH, Lennox had tried to put Miko in protective custody, along with the Darbys and Raf. But the Japanese embassy adamantly refused, arguing that since Miko was a Japanese citizen, it would be their responsibility to safeguard her. As a result, the spirited extrovert had spent the majority of her time in isolation. Jack felt a pang of guilt not visiting her more, but he had not had the luxury, between his visits to the hospital and his treatments.

Sure enough, his next text was from Dr. Gardner: Hi, Jack. I have an opening for an appointment tomorrow at 9:00 A.M. Are you available to come in?

The teenager pondered the proposal. He had already visited the psychologist earlier that week. Furthermore, her timing conflicted with another commitment. However, considering his nightmare and his anxiety attack that morning, Jack realized what was the responsible choice. He replied with his approval, and then opened up another conversation. This one was with his physical therapist.

After all the trauma Jack had endured, his body had weakened to the point he could hardly move. The military base provided him with a vigorous training program, focused on rebuilding his degenerated muscles. So far it was successful. Two months ago, the boy could hardly jog a few paces before running out of breath. Now, he could keep a steady stride for a whole mile. His next session was supposed to be tomorrow.

Jack sent a text, asking to reschedule. By the time he sent a brief reply to Raf and Miko, his trainer accepted his request. The boy decided to respond to Ratchet later. Once he replied, the medic would trap Jack in his laboratory, scrutinizing the human's health like a science experiment. Usually Jack would humor the old Autobot, but not today. Today was about Mom.

With that in mind, Jack made his way out of his room. No matter how many times he walked through the halls of the barracks, he always felt like an outsider. A lone, lean teenager, walking by burly soldiers dressed in fatigues. More than once he could feel curious eyes boring into him, but he was left alone for the most part, and he was just fine with that.

Stepping outside of the dormitory-like building, Jack was greeted with two vehicles. Taking up almost two parking spaces was an all-black GMC Topkick 4x4. As broad as a semi-truck and jacked-up on massive wheels, it made an intimidating sight.

But Jack wasn't frightened, giving the metal chassis a pat as he greeted, "Morning, 'Hide."

Ironhide only responded with a light growl of his engine. The boy then turned to the second vehicle. The sleek, azure motorcycle was dwarfed by the massive Autobot, but Jack knew she was so much more.

She was his guardian, his partner.

Arcee.

"Someone's up bright and early," the femme commented in a drawl.

"I want to see Mom," Jack explained simply.

Arcee hummed. The motorcycle waited until he was settled in the saddle before she began to move. She rolled out of the parking lot and Ironhide followed, like a roaring, monstrous shadow.

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are watching her today," Arcee reported as they pulled onto the main road. "No signs of unusual activity."

No unusual activity. No signs of a threat against her life. No signs of terrorists. No signs of Megatron.

Just the thought of the Decepticon leader made Jack's stomach knot. He could still see the fury burning behind those violet optics, right before Megatron jetted away. It was the last time Jack ever saw him.

The teen's grip on the handles tightened. "Anything from the Decepticons?"

"Nothing. They've been silent ever since the fight in Chernobyl."

"So I guess no news is good news?"

While Jack's tone was hopeful, Arcee's was cold and blunt as always. "I don't think so, Jack."

"Well, maybe Megatron finally took the hint. He didn't look too happy when I rejected him."

"That's exactly why I'm worried. Megatron doesn't take 'no' for an answer. When the High Council denied that he could carry the Matrix of Leadership, he tore Cybertron apart to find it."

Jack's stomach knotted, knowing it was true. Once Megatron dug his claws into something, he never let it go. He would never let go of Jack.

Swallowing thickly, the boy slowly, tentatively, reached towards the back of his mind, only for his mental fingers to brush up against a solid wall. It had been that way ever since Jack forced the Decepticon warlord from his mind and placed a seal over the blood-bond.

He thought he would feel a sense of relief, no longer hearing the whispers of Megatron's dark, twisted thoughts. Instead, there was nothing but an empty void. It was why Jack preferred to keep himself busy, or else he could be crushed by the deafening silence. Without the brush of another's presence, the teen felt terribly alone. Not even Arcee could fill the nothingness.

The guardian tried her best, being by her charge's side whenever she could. They talked about nothing and everything. But not even Arcee could warm the frigid air between them. They would try to ignore it. They would avoid speaking about the unspeakable thing. But they both knew it was always there.

Too much had happened. Too much trust had been compromised. There would always be that third, menacing presence.

Jack could remember his return to Cape Canaveral all too well. The Autobots were demanding answers. How did MECH capture Miko, Raf, and June? How was June hurt? What happened to Jack? How did he possibly get from his hospital room to Chernobyl in an instant? Unable to come up with any logical explanation, Jack had no choice but to tell the truth.

He explained Silas had taken his family hostage and wanted to trade their lives for an Autobot. Desperate, the human had contacted Megatron, asking for the warlord's assistance. Although Megatron was more than reluctant to save Jack's loved ones, as the Decepticon cared little for human life, he was all too happy to dispose of MECH. Which he did, by taking on their artificial Transformer—Nemesis Prime.

The abomination was supposed to rival the might of Optimus Prime, but Megatron, the former Champion of Kaon, overpowered it. He destroyed Nemesis Prime, and Silas along with it.

It was only then Jack realized the truth. Megatron had not come to his rescue. He merely used the boy as a tool, to use against his enemies. And he succeeded.

MECH was gone.

Now there was nothing to stop the warmonger from destroying the Autobots and conquering the Earth.

When Jack finished recollecting his tale how he denied Megatron, how he refused to go with the Decepticon lord, he braced for the Autobots' reaction. Shame, anger, disappointment. Instead, they said nothing. Arcee said nothing. She had merely walked away. Jack didn't see her for several days after that.

Just when he was convinced he would never see his partner again, Arcee came back, but something was different. There was an uneasiness to her. There was a tension in her EM field that Jack couldn't break. It had been that way ever since, and even now.

Oh, how Jack wished everything would go back to normal. He desperately wanted Arcee to be his friend again—to go on drives with no destination, to be excited about seeing her, to partake in exciting, unpredictable missions. He wanted it all, from the comfort of his own home. Jack was even missing school right about now.

But going back home was impossible. Megatron would find him there. If Jack went anywhere, the tyrant would come for him.

Here, in the NEST base of Cape Canaveral, Jack could remain under constant supervision. Furthermore, it offered everything he needed for him and his mother. Lennox even offered to find tutors to homeschool him, and although Jack didn't decline, spending his senior year in lockdown left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The teenager blinked out of his thoughts when a massive building came into view, with a bright red cross painted on its side like a shining beacon. Like every time Jack approached the hospital, conflicting emotions gripped his heart. He had enough experiences in hospitals to last him a lifetime, and none of them were pleasant. Furthermore, ever since his captivity by MECH, the boy had been far less trusting of doctors. But, it was the only chance Jack had to talk to his mother.

Arcee pulled into the parking lot close the main entrance, coming to a halt next to a pair of Corvettes. The sports cars were identical in shape and size; the only difference between them was their colors. One was a glaring yellow and the other was a bold red.

"Well, well," the crimson car, Sunstreaker, commented. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"You couldn't find somewhere less populated?" Ironhide growled, referring to the countless cars surrounding them.

"It's a triage facility," Sideswipe retorted. "What do you expect?"

"Is Mom okay?" Jack asked, interrupting the arguing Autobots.

"Well, we can only assume she's alright, considering we can't exactly walk through the door. Nobody has come storming in, except that fellow—"

"I'll catch up with you later," the teenager interjected, slipping off of the saddle and towards the hospital at a brisk pace.

The interior of the building was filled with pandemonium. Doctors, nurses, and medical technicians hurried through the halls, some carting patients to one room to the next. It was a mix of soldiers and NASA personnel, mostly suffering from minor injuries or sickness. Despite a heavy Autobot and NEST presence, the residents of Cape Canaveral rarely saw combat. It was only because of its dense population that the hospital saw a steady stream of cases.

Jack was careful to stay out of the way of the chaos. After weeks of navigating the maze-like hallways, he knew the route Mom's room like the back of his hand. The suite number was ingrained into his head. As a result, the boy made the complex journey in just a few minutes' time.

He lifted his hand to pull the handle, only for the door to open by itself. Jack froze with a startled blink, only to be greeted by a familiar figure.

"Agent Fowler?"

The former liaison, now government agent, or whatever he was now (Jack wasn't quite sure), filled the doorframe, effectively blocking the teen's path into the room. The man was dressed in his crisp greyish-blue suit, not a single button out of place. His coarse black hair was neatly combed back. Then Jack noticed the bouquet of pure-white lilies in the agent's hand. Something in the back of the teenager's mind identified it as Mom's favorite flower.

"Oh, um, Jack," Fowler greeted with an awkward stutter. Noticing the boy staring at the bouquet in his hand, he quickly shoved it behind his back, so roughly a couple petals ripped free and floated in the air. The man's dark skin suddenly turned into a bright pink. "Uh… hi."

"This is Mom's room," Jack stated bluntly.

"Oh, it is!" Fowler made a show of looking at the bold numbers posted on the wall. "I was afraid I was in the wrong place."

The boy only became more puzzled, until he peered past Fowler's bulk. In the center of the room was a hospital bed. An empty bed, complete with unruffled sheets and propped up pillows. The side tables were clear and neat. It was as if no one had been in the room at all.

"Wait, where's Mom?!" Jack demanded at once, panic jumping into his throat as he tried to barge past Fowler. "She was just here yesterday!"

Instantly the teenager tried to find a logical explanation. Had he taken a wrong turn? Did he misread the suite number? No, this was certainly the right location. Was June already discharged? But Jack would have known if she left. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were still outside. At the very least, she would have called him!

Fowler must have noticed his frantic state, assuring, "I'm sure she's fine. They probably took her to run some tests."

"She's supposed to be leaving today!"

"Maybe they just want to make sure everything is alright before they clear her." Fowler seized Jack's shoulders, keeping him steady as the agent cooed, "Hey, just relax."

"I'll relax when we find her!"

"Okay, okay," Fowler relinquished, letting Jack go. "I'll go talk to someone. See if they know something."

The man looked around, catching sight of a nurse down the hall. Fowler called out, even raising his hand as if he was hailing a taxi, but the woman was too distracted and turned away. With a disgruntled huff, Fowler hurried after her, lilies still in hand. Rather than joining the chase, Jack went in the opposite direction, towards the nurse station. Maybe someone there could help them.

There were several technicians posted at the quad, with a handful of patients hovering around the counter. Jack approached one nurse manning a computer.

"Excuse me," he greeted, waiting until she tilted her head up in attention. "I'm looking for June Darby?"

The nurse was cooperative enough, only asking a couple inquisitive questions before typing in the necessary information.

The search took a few seconds before the woman reported, "Ah, yes. She was moved this morning."

"Why?" Jack demanded.

The nurse shrugged helplessly. "They might have needed the space for more patients. I can give you the room number?"

"Yes, please."

The teen shifted restlessly as she listed off the numbers, only to gap in disbelief, "Wait a second! That's a whole different floor! I don't even know where that is!"

"We can show you," a new voice offered.

Jack turned to the source, only to see a pair of soldiers leaning against the counter. Both men were over a head taller than him and twice his weight. Both looked perfectly healthy, rather the other sickly soldiers that filled the hospital. Jack even failed to see the NEST emblem on their fatigues. Then again, the air force station housed more than just Colonel Lennox's subordinates. They certainly didn't look like MECH agents.

"We were headed up there, anyway," the other man added when the teen just stared suspiciously.

Jack eventually determined they must have been visiting a wounded comrade. In the end, it didn't matter. There was only one person he came for.

"Um, sure," he relented.

One of the soldiers nodded. Without wasting time, he took the lead in a long, purposeful stride. Jack scurried after him, while the second man trailed behind. The boy still didn't see any sign of Fowler, but he didn't worry about it. The government agent would most likely catch up to them, if he wasn't making his way to June already. Jack's guides led him to a lonely elevator, only to find a makeshift note posted on the stainless steel.

"It's out of order," the teenager read.

"Well, it looks like we're taking the stairs, then," one man shrugged.

Jack groaned as he followed the soldier through yet another door, having no desire to walk up the steep steps. No matter how many flights of stairs he ascended, he was always gasping for thin air at the top. Last thing he wanted was to greet his mother, huffing and puffing—

The teen's thoughts came to a grounding halt when suddenly a cold hand seized his shoulder. He was violently shoved face-first into the wall. Jack yowled as his head slammed against the solid concrete, pain radiating across his skull.

"Ah! Ow, what's the deal?!" Jack cried, trying to turn around to confront his assaulter.

Only for the soldier to grasp his wrist in a vice grip. The boy winced as his arm was wrenched behind his back. And then cold, sharp metal bit into his skin.

"Jackson Darby, you are under arrest."

"What? What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

Jack's head spun, desperately trying to register the stranger's words. Under arrest? Why? For what? He braced for the soldier to educate him, to remind him of his Miranda rights, but it never came.

Jack grunted as he was peeled off the wall, but rather than going up the stairs, he was pushed down the adjacent flight. Confused panic bubbled up his chest.

"What am I being charged with? What about my rights?!"

"You have the right to remain silent," his captor obliged in a growl, thought he neglected the rest of the rite.

Not that Jack needed to hear the words to defend him, but it made him all the more anxious. Whoever these people were, they weren't interested in due process. Were they MECH?

Just the thought struck Jack's heart with frigid fear, so violently that it took a moment for logic to return. No, it couldn't be. Whenever MECH captured him, they were careful to be discrete. They managed to ship him out of Diego Garcia, an entire island owned by the military, without so much of a whisper. Besides, the agents of MECH only followed the orders of Silas.

And the madman was dead.

So Jack was left with gnawing uncertainty as the soldier forced him down the stairs. The other took the front, holding him by the arm and keeping him steady. It didn't make the descent any easier, Jack stumbling with each step. Being wedged between the two burly men and his arms restrained behind his back, he had a hard time keeping his balance. It certainly didn't help that he resisted the whole way.

Jack desperately tried to worm out of his captors' grip. At one point, both men simply plucked him up into the air and carried him the rest of the way. But rather than taking him into one of the main hallways, the soldiers corralled him into an empty corridor. Away from the front of the hospital. Away from the Autobots.

"Where are you taking me?" Jack demanded. He tried to dig his heels into the ground, but the sleek tiled floor offered no purchase.

"Will you just shut up?" the soldier snarled.

The light, friendly he used before was all gone. Now both men wore a hardened mask, not even flinching at Jack's furious howls. They half-ushered, half-dragged the boy through a pair of doors. Jack hissed as blinding sunlight assaulted his eyes. He had to blink in rapid succession to adjust to the glare, trying to scan his surroundings all at once.

They had emerged in an alleyway on the side of the hospital, out of sight of the main parking lot. There was not a single soul, save for a waiting pitch-black SUV. Waiting for him.

"No! Wait!" Jack wailed, trying to rip free from his captors' hold.

But it was fruitless as the rest of his attempts, as the soldiers easily yanked him towards the dark vehicle. Jack spat and squirmed like a feral cat as he was stuffed into the backseat. Apparently there was already someone waiting in the interior, as rough hands pulled the boy into the car.

As the door swung close, Jack sucked in a breath and screamed as loud as his lungs would allow, "ARCEEEE!"

Then he was sealed from the world.

Instantly the dark interior of the car began to press against, suffocating him. Threatening to bury him. The walls of the dark, confining coffin flashed before Jack's eyes and panic washed over him. He wanted to flee, to escape, to get out.

But it was hopeless. His arms were still cuffed behind his back, the door was locked, and strong hands were holding him down. He could only watch the hospital pan out of view as the vehicle drove away. He desperately searched for the bright colors of the Autobots, any sign that his vigilant guardians were coming for him.

But something that was all too familiar for him, no one came.

Did Arcee hear him? Did she care? What about Fowler? Did he know what was going on? Was he in on this?

The questions, along with so many more, buzzed in Jack's head, but he knew better than to ask his captors. The soldiers were left behind, replaced by men dressed in sharp suits. Two sat in the front—the driver focused on the road and the passenger hardly sparing the prisoner a glance. The third sat beside Jack, staring at him warily, as if the boy was an alien creature.

It filled the car with tense uneasiness. At least it was a short trip.

They left the drab buildings of the base behind, only to pull onto one of the many runways that made up the air field. But rather than a gleaming space shuttle set upon a colossal platform, Jack was greeted with a smaller, sleeker vessel. It looked like a private jet.

His confusion only grew as the vehicle rolled to a halt next to the plane. He could the high-pitched roar of its thrusters, ready to take off. A fresh new set of question circled through his mind. He never had the chance to ask, though, as the door next to him suddenly opened and an cold hand seized his shoulder.

"Out."

The prisoner obeyed, but it was awkward with his compromised balance. He was caught by solid arms before he could topple to the ground, only to be shoved towards the staircase leading up to the plane. However, Jack hadn't even made to the first step when a figure emerged from the confines of the jet.

Immediately the teenager bristled, skin crawling at the face he never wanted to see again. He bared his fangs like a feral animal at the man that nothing more than to ruin him. And the Autobots.

"Galloway," Jack seethed. "I thought I smelled a snake. I should have known you had something to do with this."

The national security advisor's sharp eyes behind wiry glasses reminded the boy of one in the grass. The president had chosen Theodore Galloway to replace Fowler as the government's liaison to the Autobots. However, the man did everything in his power to keep a tight leash on the visiting extra-terrestrials. Sometimes Jack wondered if Galloway took the position merely to find an excuse to get rid of the Autobots.

"Oh, I'm the snake?" the security advisor spat as he neared the captured teenager. "I'm not the one betrayed his country."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, drop the act, Darby. You're not fooling anyone. Not anymore."

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, utterly lost. "What act? You came all the way here just to arrest me? For what?"

"Let's start trespassing on government property. And let's end with treason."

Jack's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped in shocked disbelief. "Treason?! Are you insane?!"

"What's insane is a sixteen-year-old boy would work for the enemy."

The teen winced as if he had been slapped in the face. The blood drained from his cheeks as the accusation sunk into his stomach like a block of lead. Did… did Galloway know? About his time with Megatron?

Jack stuttered as he tried to form words, "I-I can explain…"

"Oh, I don't think it's necessary," Galloway sneered as he reached into his pocket. "Because it looks pretty clear to me."

The man pulled out a smartphone, fiddling with it for a moment before turning the screen to Jack. At first the boy was puzzled when he was shown a picture of a barren hallway. However, his confusion morphed into horror when he saw an image of himself. It was like looking at a surreal, moving mirror, as he watched himself cautiously creep across the corridor, his body rigid and alert. Fearful of being caught, even as he was weighed down by guilt.

Jack remembered that day clearly. The day he has snuck into the Pentagon and then hacked into the military network. He had no choice, or Megatron would have killed everyone he loved.

While Jack gapped like a dying fish, Galloway looked severe as he stuffed the smartphone back into his coat.

"I don't know about you, but I would like to call that being caught red-handed." The security lowered his voice to a low growl as he drawled, "What kind of person betrays his own kind for alien metal? Your father must be rolling in his grave."

Jack's father. Johnathan Darby. A staff sergeant in the Army Rangers. A respected commander, who was loved by his comrades and his family. Until he was killed in a Decepticon attack.

Finally the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together into a horrible picture, and the army brat furiously shook his head in denial.

"No, no," he refused, trying to step forward, but the grip on his shoulders kept him in place, "it's not what you think—"

"Save it," Galloway cut off. "I don't know what the Autobots told you to make you their little errand boy, but I honestly don't care."

"Autobots?" Jack even waited for the man to correct himself, but when Galloway's scowl did not change, he gasped, "You can't be serious? They are our allies!"

"That's not the term that I would use. They are assets, and yet they have caused us nothing but trouble. They've been plotting to double cross us since the very beginning."

"No, you're wrong! They want to protect us! Earth is their home—"

"This is our home!" Galloway yelled violently, advancing towards Jack until there was only an inch between them. "Ours, not theirs. We were here first. And when they arrived, they have brought death and destruction. Countless people have died, because of their war. Well, not anymore. It's time we take our planet back."

Jack could only stare at the hateful rant, pleading quietly, "Galloway, just listen to me—"

"Shut up. I should be throwing your skinny ass in federal prison. But I made a deal. Peace, for war prisoners."

"War prisoner?" the teenager echoed. Suddenly that block of lead in his belly grew heavier. "What do you mean?"

It was then Galloway's glare morphed into something even more disturbing. There was a gleam in his eye and his lips curled into a ghost of a smile. Jack's stomach knotted. He had seen that look before.

When he was in Silas's clutches.

Galloway's voice dropped with even the same sort of sick satisfaction as he vowed, "I'm going to end the war."