AND WE'RE BACK! Yay! I'm so stoked to get this out here. For clarification, please note that I'm not stealing UlurNaga's idea. I was inspired when I re-read her story, and many people do this type of slow-burn, stretched out, movie-parallel kind of thing.
Many years ago in her author's notes she greenlit a project from a young and inexperienced me entitled Cruise Control, which I killed a long time ago. Think of this as her permission again, years in the future. Yes, I am the same author.
This is set almost two years after Transformers 2007, which is roughly six months before ROTF, simply because eventually I want to tackle Prime' death with my OC, Miri. Yes, it's like UlurNaga's Primary Mechanisms, but trust me - different story. I'm not stealing. She was brilliant and I...I am my own brilliant, lol.
ANYHOO, please drop your thoughts in the reviews, I so long to read to them! They are my lifeblood, my go juice, my fire to keep writing. Ya'll are awesome and WHERE ALL MY OLD FANFICTION PALS AT!? The ones that left heartfelt reviews and were kindled spirits with my characters. PLEASE COME BAAAACK.
Every reviews kills a little piece of Megatron inside, lols.
Disclaimer: I own nothing other than Miri, her family, and anything that isn't preestablished. xoxo
"Could you just stop fidgeting?"
Shooting a glare across the table, she made a good show of an exaggerated wiggle by gripping both sides of her chair and swaying back and forth, the seat squeaking in protest as she did so. When the glare from her younger brother narrowed into an almost sinister sneer she stopped, folded her hands beneath her chin and dropped her elbows enigmatically on the table, rattling the water glasses which had been delivered by the server just moments before.
"Real mature, Miri," he barbed back at her. She stood up just for a moment, moving to smooth the pant leg of her gray slacks, before lowering back into the seat. The brother in question just rolled his eyes as she crossed a leg over the other, picking up a spoon to check her makeup. Using a nail to correct a smudge in her red lipstick, she stared at him him from the corner of her eye, then made an irritating smacking sound.
He snorted derisively. "My point stands."
She nodded at him, raising a brow. "I never claimed to be mature," she shot back at him, tossing the spoon back on the table. It clattered beside the fork, making a startling noise that triggered the attention of some guests around them, but the table's occupants didn't seem to care. Instead, she leaned forward, wrinkled her nose and shrugged a shoulder. "Just more mature than you, August."
The brunette furrowed his brow at her, a severe frown wrinkling his face. He shot a look over to the man seated beside her, who was fully absorbed in studying the restaurant's menu, effectively blocking out the antics of the two sub-adults. As if he could feel the hot gaze of his youngest son staring at him through the menu, the man in question lowered his menu, and dared a look between them, his face a blank slate of unreadability. He folded the menu, set it across his plate, and looked between the two of his children, brow arched in a fatherly manner.
"It wouldn't kill either of you to show a little maturity," he chided them softly. "Both of you get your acts together - this is an important day." He gestured between the two of them, his eyes ultimately landing on the brunette in red lipstick. "Especially you. You represent the face of this business, Miriana. Lock it in, for God sakes." Folding back into a relaxed aura, he picked up the menu again and gestured to her. "Now, decide what you want to eat. We don't want to keep these people waiting."
Doing as she was told, Miri picked up the menu her father had gestured to, opening it with a thumb. She scanned the array of food options, and ultimately decided on salad being the best choice, considering her outfit choice and opt-in for red lipstick. She regretted her make-up decision, simply because the menu seemed absolutely delectable, and not everyone got a free lunch from the United States government. If ever, she realized.
Folding the menu closed, she set it menu back on the table and looked back at her brother, who seemed to ignore her father's suggestion altogether, instead busy in conversation with their eldest brother, Dirk, who had not missed the formal-attire memo much like herself. Dressed in a suit jacket with a button down, he'd slicked back his hair and maintained proper posture, despite is cool demeanor. Anybody would've guessed he was the lawyer of the family, but they'd have been dead wrong - he was the muscle of their operation, and his huge biceps were the giveaway.
Her youngest brother, August, of whom she was two years older, gestured with his hand as he spoke, like he always did. He was the shortie of the family, though he was lean and athletic and lithe, everything Dirk was not. He had their mother's light-brown hair, and wore a distinguished mustache, unlike that of Dirk, who wore a full though kept beard. August, the family brain, was the engineer - he had a Master's Degree from Yale, a fact that their father prided himself on. Not only that one of his children had went Ivy League, but that their business had managed to afford the price tag - barely.
Beneath the table, Miri bobbed her foot, which was crammed tightly but comfortable into a pair of point stilettos, a matte leather black that she'd picked up in the local Goodwill near her house. She hoped no one would notice the Sharpie marks she'd use to hide a few of the second-hand scuffs, but, ultimately she didn't care - these were her "sex on a stick" heels, as her mother called them, and some of her most comfortable heels. She instead focused on the clock hanging over the restaurant's door - ten minutes until the meeting which could, potentially, seal her and her family's fate.
She hardly noticed the buzz in her blazer pocket. Miri forgot she'd put the phone on silent, and wrangled it out of her pocket. Looking to her family, she waved an aggressive hand over the table, in an effort to silence her jabbering clan. "Shh, it's the military people!" Her hiss died when she went to answer it with a swipe of her thumb. "This is Miri," she chimed into the line, looking over to her father.
"Miriana Otten?" The tone on the end of the line was crisp, straightforward, and formal, though it was distant, as if it were farther away than she'd anticipated. Biting the inside of her cheek at the mention of her Christian name, she looked over to her father again, and felt a bolster of reassurance when he nodded, rolling his hand before him as if signaling her to move forward.
"Yeah, this is she. Miri is fine." She swallowed back thickly, surprised that her tone sounded so even and collected despite the turmoil boiling through her gut. She never would've imagined that one potential government contract would be so stressful, but oh had it been - two months of nothing but vague emails, mounds of paperwork, and countless hoops they'd jumped through had led them here, at a restaurant table...and a phone call?
There was what sounded like a car door closing on the line, before the man's voice returned. "If you and your family would join us outside, Miss Otten, we can proceed with the afternoon's itinerary." He sounded so formal, so...militant. She bit the inside of her cheek again, her brow slowly wrinkling into a confused frown.
Well of course he does, genius, he's a military officer. While Miri was slightly aware of the notion that this was indeed a government contract for the military, it was just now beginning to resonate that these people were, indeed, military. Her eyes darted across the table to August, who was staring at her expectantly, his brow raised and hands upturned as if to signal, Well? Glancing back to her father, her attention was drawn to the other side of the table when her mother suddenly approached, working back into her seat again in a flurry of dress, curled hair, and perfume.
She put up a finger when her mother's mouth opened to address the table with a question. "Oh, uh...well then. I assumed we were conducting an interview over lunch, Mister...?" She probed for a name. So few of the people she'd been in contact with during this process had been properly identified, though she assumed that's why the one-hundred-and-ten page Top-Secret manifesto had been sent to them. She felt heat fall into her gut, and sweat began to bubble between her shoulders.
"Outside, Miss Otten. I'm afraid that's the best I can offer at the moment." At that, the line cut out, and the call ended. It was so abrupt that she didn't even pull the phone from her ear right away, until she moved it herself to stare instead at a blackened iPhone screen. Blinking once at the sudden uproot of their afternoon, she looked across the table to her mother, who looked completely clueless, and then over to her father.
"Uh...they want to meet outside. I guess." She slipped the phone back into her pocket, then put her hands on the table, making tentative fists. She shared looks around the table with everyone, until all eyes fell on their father, who had sat back in the chair, draped an arm over the back, and set to running his thumb down the side of his butter knife. A deep look of contemplation was on his face.
"So no fancy chow then." Dirk muttered, slumping in his chair.
Her father flecked a look up to her. "Well," his tone was steadfast, though almost murky with a vagueness she didn't remember ever hearing from him. The aura at the table could've been cut with a knife, and she could practically hear the gears spinning in each of their heads. This was their family, their life - everything her father had worked for. A top-secret military contract felt like not only an opportunity that would set them for life, but also that it was a responsibility they may not return as the same people from. This kind of thing happened in movies - not real life. Her father looked to his wife. "If we do this, we do it together."
Miri found her mother, who's face had set like stone. Practically the backbone of the entire company - and their family - she did not hesitate to rise from her chair. Dipping to retrieve her purse, she slung it over her shoulder, rounded to the table, and took her husband's hand in her own. Interlacing her fingers, she smiled at him softly, shrugged a shoulder, and wrinkled her nose. Looking to all of them, her smile spread.
"It's now or ever, clan. Once in a lifetime, remember?" Her tone was soft, but bright. She peered down at her husband, the clear rims of her glasses catching the light overhead, giving her an almost glowing look of mischief which matched the raised brow over her eye. Giving his wife's hand a squeeze, Miri's father rose and waved them to follow him wordlessly.
It took less than a minute for them to exit the restaurant, all of them heading out into the waning sun of the afternoon. The change of light seems to do nothing less the sear the life from her retina's, but Miri raised a hand to block the light. The entire lot of the restaurant was empty, save the few military-grade Hummer's parked half-hazardly outside of any parking spot lines. A troop of men stood, in all-black tactical uniforms, like something out of a documentary - every one of them had sunglasses on, a black beret hat, and various military markings spotted around their uniform.
Beyond them, outside the confines of town, a brilliant sky was fading to soft pastels overhead, stretching over the sandy desert terrain. Briefly, Miri missed the cool, forested geography of her Midwestern home, remembering that during this time of year, the air was brisk and alive with the promise of coming winter. Here, the desert seemed intimidatingly distant and harsh, a thought that brought a stone sinking in her gut. She hadn't moved, but noticed that her mother and father approached the man walking to greet them, hand extended in polite greeting.
She felt a nudge to her shoulder, and found August giving her a thin smile. "Ready for this, sis?" His tone was light, almost like when they were children, which caused her to offer him an upturn of the corner of her mouth. Her lips twisted into an excited grin and a burst of energy prickled alive within her blood, sending goosebumps along her skin.
Miri wrinkled her nose at him playfully, and nodded once. "How bad could it be?"