Chapter Twenty-Four
...
"Fifteen. Minutes." The man had iterated before taking his group out of the showroom, giving Mira, Cade, and the vintage Camaro a hard glare as he did so. Once the heavy doors had closed behind him, signaling his leave, Mira turned towards Cade and Bumblebee, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Straightening her jacket, she puffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Bumblebee, you get back to the others," she said, relief flooding her voice. "Cade and I will split off here," he nodded to the inventor, who had turned his ballcap backwards, "Set your watch for ten minutes and then we do a check in." Cade did so, and Bumblebee revved the engine. Mira got a comm transmission from him, privately she assumed, when Cade didn't respond.
"You gunna be okay out there, General?" A searing heat ripped through her body as he used her rank. She nodded and touched the earpiece and whispered back to him as Cade walked around the now fallen Stinger robot, shaking his head and looking genuinely amazed.
"I'll be fine, 'Bee," she smiled at the Camaro, "Get back to the others and let them know we're a-okay in here, got it?" The engine revved, and hit reverse, then gently crawled out of the garage and onto the lift. Mira smiled at him and pressed the basement floor, and the machine kicked to life and lowered the car. Bumblebee was gone within a matter of moments.
"Let's do this," she met up with Cade in the middle of the floor, "I'll see what I can check into for weapons tech, if it isn't sealed off."
Mira nodded, "Sure. Ten minutes." She set her watch to correspond with him, and they broke off. Cade went through the door the second man had come in through, and Mira took the other Joyce had left through. With a curt nod she slipped out the door and checked the hallway.
…
"Mr. Joyce," the red-headed secretary peeked her head through the oversized, futuristic doors of Joshua's office. He was going through specks, changing dimensions on the last of the Pagani, before he looked up at her with a blank, focused expression. She smiled sheepishly at him. "Someone to see you."
"I'm busy," he said, as if implying her to lie and tell the waiting someone, "Very busy."
She gave him a look, "A very…important someone—"
"Cut this crap," the man mumbled, shouldering past the secretary. She squealed, stumbled through the doorway as it was swallowed up with the entirely too large ego of Harold Attinger. Joshua sprang to his feet, tossing the specks away and pushed his chair behind him, straightening his suit coat in the front. Attinger stalked for him, with that strangely bit of a gimp, and stopped before his desk.
"We need to talk?" Joshua assumed.
Attinger narrowed his eyes. "That's an understatement."
Joshua peered behind the form of Attinger to smile at his secretary, "That's all, Charlie. Thank you." She shakily closed the door, and he frowned at Attinger. "Alright then, talk is what you want to do? Then talk away. I have a showing in the lab in…" he checked the Rolex on his arm, "five minutes."
Attinger rolled his eyes, "We have a problem."
"Do you have the Seed?" Joshua asked, rounding his desk, hands behind his back. He then reached to gently and sleekly push up his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. He looked around the office made of windows and chuckled.
"We don't get the Seed until he has Prime," Attinger growled, "and now he wants the girl."
Joshua shot him a look. "Girl? What girl?"
"She's an Autobot sympathizer. A General, Prime's right hand." He messaged the bridge of his nose, tossing his glasses onto the desktop with a clack, "She's a complication—he wants her and Prime now, as well as human accomodations for his ship."
Joshua's brows rose. "Why?"
"Don't ask me," Attinger said with a snap, "I have no flipping idea, and I frankly don't care." He then replaced his glasses on his face, "Lockdown is expecting the accomdations by today. I've already arranged a team to outfit his shuttle-type whatever deal it is with the necessary means to keep a human aboard."
His mouth dropped open, "You mean…he's taking her?"
"Is there some type of problem?"
Joshua, stunned, stopped behind his desk and shot Attinger a cold look. An inventor himself, he was accustomed to strange ideas formulated out of dire circumstances. He had sacrificed many an item, dream, friendship for such endeavors—all to get him where he was now, at the top of the world's net-worth list. He was rich, handsome, and had the world knocking at his front door. On the very verge of technological breakthrough, he was making deals with aliens and creating the world's first transformable matter—Transformium. It was trademarked.
He was in need of more of the the Transformer metal—the very lifeblood of his work, and he needed it now. Which is where the alien came into play, providing them that very Seed which would see to his supply needs for 200 years. It was a flawless plan, all it had been was handing over the Autobot leader, and then they'd have their golden goose, for lack of a better term. But now…
But now this entire idea of selling off a human woman to the alien was not at all something that would play over well with his conscience, or his mind. He knew people died doing this kind of stuff, in the crossfire, but he never imagined that we—human beings—would betray our own kind and just fork them over to some weird alien bounty-hunter. What would an alien want anyway with a human woman? He shuddered as the movies of his childhood came into play.
Attinger abruptly changed the subject, "She's got her hands into a few other bystanders," he growled, "namely a Texan inventor and his daughter, as well as her brother and son. She's corrupted them, and she can't be allowed to corrupt anyone else." He sighed as he closed his eyes, "it's already going to cost half a million just to get them all refocused—or dead, either way."
Joshua's eyes widened at this, "So fine. Refocus them. But selling a human? Are we really that desperate?"
"You want your Seed, don't you?"
He waved it off, "Yes, yes, I suppose. It just seems weird." He pressed a button on his computer and locked the screen, as well as the tower. "Is that all? You wanted to come and downcast my day and that's it, or what?"
"There's one other thing," he said deeply, eyes deepening with darkness. This caught Joyce off guard, and he gathered up a folder and tucked it under his arm, the two of them walking across the office towards the door. Putting a hand through the handle, Attinger slammed his palm against the door and sank it back into place slowly, an action which made him jump.
"Jeez, easy on the—" Then, suddenly Attinger's face was inches from his own, making Joshua slink back a few inches himself. The man narrowed his eyes and growled at him now.
"She got on of your guns, plucked it off a soldier. Her boyfriend inventor may have taken it apart, meaning they may know of your involvement." Joshua almost dropped the file, but instead his stomach dropped into his shoes, "If you find her, you are to bring her immediately to me, understand? Prime won't let his girl go off without him being too far behind. You get her, you get him—and we get out Seed, as well as our money."
Joshua didn't like this man's tone at all—it was wickedly joyful, as well as dangerous, "Fine. I'll have my team keep an eye out for her then."
Attinger nodded, as if in approval, and let his hand down. He stepped back half a step, allowing Joshua to open the door. He went right, and Joshua headed left, loosening his tie and hoping to God that his six thousand dollar suit did not have any sweat stains anywhere.
…
Ten minutes had gotten Mira to the stairwell, and she was going up them, following the signs until she came to the door marked LAB-01: PERSONNEL ONLY. Beside it was a scanner, as well as a coat-rack with unused lab coats sitting dormant. Plucking one, she quickly shirked it on, and then scanned her card. The door beeped her in, and she gently pushed it open.
Once inside, she looked around. The lab was huge—big enough to house Optimus at full height with no difficulties. It was a sterile white color, with futuristic SMART boards placed everywhere with mechanical engineers and mathematicians scribbling away. Laborers were welding together metal, as well as examining the very object Mira had her eyes glued to.
Upon the stainless steel table sat Ratchet—not the entirety of his body, just his head. His optics had long since darkened, lifeless and empty, as a crew of four men and women rapidly began pulling parts off of him, tossing them aside or handing them to other technicians. Finally, one man ignited a blow torch and put I to Ratchet's optic, where it sparked with fire before it began to melt away.
Her stomach lurched, and Mira felt as if she would be sick. Her hands began to tremble as she reached up for the Shield, and realizing she was alone in the observation booth, asked it to make a video recording. It obeyed, and she lifted it out from behind the collar of her jacket, standing motionless as she watched them take apart her friend.
Then, she willed herself to look around. Stepping out of the observation booth, she plucked a clipboard with paperwork from a nearby table, as well, as a pen, and made herself look busy. Flipping the pen over, she positioned the Shield to stare directly at the paper as she began writing notes: Found the Autobot remains…melting them down. Algorithms and specks everywhere—using the parts for something.
Hopefully the Autobots outside KSI would get that message and be able to follow along without her talking. She checked her watch, seeing another ten minutes was almost up before she would have to check in with Cade. She weaved in and out of the tables, watching technicians and scientists pluck away at their work. There were sketches and blueprints everywhere—all of prototype robots like Stinger, but of different statutes and design. She refrained from wrinkling her brow, until she stopped before a large, cylindrical tube holding a blue blob that her peripheral vision could not determine.
Mira gasped. It was a housing chamber—like a prison, and inside was the familiar little bot she had long thought was dead. Brains, one of the surviving bots from Chicago, was limping around on one leg and a cane-type piece of metal, pressing away at a Galaxy tablet installed into the left side of the tube. The right side had another, and she looked to the tubes beside Brains' prison—again, another gasp erupted from her, and she clenched her hands around they clipboard to keep it from dropping out of her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a few men in finely pressed suits looking at her, and she hurried away from Brains' enclosure.
Anger, rage, fear, and confusion littered her emotions and tossed them into a huge pile that could only cause her to walk forward towards them. The left side held the head of a long-since dead Megatron, the other what was left of Sentinel Prime, the betrayer of the Autobots—and Optimus' mentor. There was an electricity line running to a cap-type looking device plugged into Brains' helm, and he was rapidly moving between both the tablets, punching away and muttering. Mira then scribbled on the paper faster, making a note of what she saw: Megatron is here.
She stuck the pen behind her ear, and continued to look around. She found another chamber, and she headed to it, slipping inside the door as another man exited, and nodded to her in acknowledgment. She smiled grimly at him and approached the end of the chamber, where a woman in a white outfit was watching with arms crossed over her chest. She was slowly shaking her head, watching as the crew continued to disassemble Ratchet's head.
In the corner beside the woman was a large case, clear—with a lid. Inside was a gunpowder type of substance, finely grained and looking much like black sand. It had a slight sparkle to it, as if it were colored to look like black fairy dust. Mira stared at it hard before the woman noticed her and spoke.
"Amazing, isn't it?" She asked, a slightly British accent evident in her voice, "I had always thought they were made out of metal. Nothing more."
Mira shook her head, "No," she sighed, wondering if she should really be talking to an insider, "they're much more than that, I assure you. They are complex, living things—like us."
She furrowed her brow, "You know this?"
"I—I had the privilege of talking to one," the she pointed towards Brains, "And then that little guy out there is a good example. They aren't like us, but at the same time they are."
"They menacing, frightening things," the woman said quietly, looking away, "especially those nasty Decepticons," she nodded to Ratchet, "good riddance."
"That wasn't a Decepticon," she interjected rather quickly, the woman giving her a confused look, "it was an Autobot. And the only reason they're frightening is because they are different than we are—we're always afraid of things we don't understand." She crossed her arms over the clipboard and pulled it towards her chest. The Shield was growing warmer, and she closed her eyes, sighing.
"You think so highly of them and you work with Transformium?" The woman asked, surprised.
Mira's eyes popped open and she turned to face the woman, "Y-yes." The woman nodded and opened the case beside her, reaching her hand inside to pick up a handful of the black dust. Mira watched her, observing contentedly, as the woman spoke her next sentence.
"Well, when you guys are melting down those Autobots or whoever they are for your experiments, I'm out there looking for more. It's just there isn't any more to be hand, I'm afraid."
Mira wrinkled her brow. "Oh?"
She nodded, "Yes. It's almost entirely gone now, there wasn't much. Just enough for these prototypes, hence the reason you've resulted to melting them down," she nodded towards Ratchet, "it's remarkable."
Mira smiled awkwardly as the woman did, and then slowly began to back out the chamber, "If you'll excuse me, I'd better get back to work. Time is money." Then, shouldering open the door, she cast another look to Brains, who didn't seem to recognize her. She made her way towards the exit, passing by a huge mirror, and she froze.
The men in suits had stopped the production, and were scanning ID badges. Panic shot itself through her like a bullet to the heart, and her stomach flopped like a frantic fish out of water. Looking for the nearest exit, she shot a look to the mirror, and realized it was a two-way.
A man touched her shoulder gently, a nice looking younger guard with a side-arm and red hair. He smiled at her approachably and asked her, "Ma'am, could you step aside with me for a moment?"
Fear gripped her. Looking to the mirror again, she then looked for the exit. The man reached to grab her elbow, now wanting to escort her rather than have her comply. Then, gulping hard, she ripped the paper from the clipboard, and spun on her heel to bolt towards the exit. Instantly the room came to life around her, the guards screaming as she hurried towards her, pushing aside the crew.
Adrenaline pushed her through the lab, and she bolted passed Brains, who stopped to stare at her. She heard him pounding on the glass, shouting her name in victory, shouting for his glorious day of redemption. Sliding to a stop as the guards blocked her on every direction, Mira looked up to find a surgical light installed over a table. The men encircled her now, and she looked ahead. Straight shot to the door, once she cleared the guards…
"YOU!" A man burst into the circle, and Mira pivoted to see it was Joshua Joyce. Panic found her, as he; now enraged and red-faced, stomped towards her. "Why are there loose fugitives running around my company!?" He hollered to the guards around him, "That's two within ten minutes of each other!"
As if on cue, the doors ahead of them burst open, Cade and two guards struggling their way into the circle. Cade was thrashing madly, a man in a pressed suit with white hair and a slight limp following in behind. Mira's warning bells went off; this man carried a bad presence about him, one that she did not at all like. He had steely eyes, and a huge scowl on his face. The guards thrust Cade into the group, another shoving him roughly forward, where he crashed into her, then hit the ground. Mira bent to help him up.
"What happened?" she asked quickly, helping his stand. He straightened his coat, and turned his cap around straight again, and then looked at her after he finished his glaring war with the gimping man. He then nodded and panted.
"They got me, said I scanned at two different entrances. They stopped me at the door." He reached up to tuck one of her stray curls away from her eyes. "…you're okay, right?"
Mira nodded, suddenly confused at his gesture, and turned to the two men. They were talking and gesturing wildly, and Mira felt the purse at her side, the Baretta tucked secretly away. Panic hit her soul as the man with a gimp gestures for two guards to seize her, another two grabbing Cade. She rushed them, but one behind her grabbed hold of her wrist and jerked her to a stop. She collided with a thick body, was roughly pushed to the ground on her knees, and her hands were cuffed behind her back. Cade was standing, hands cuffed as well.
"Take them upstairs to the conference room," Joyce huffed. He waved the guards away, "Mr. Attinger's team will deal with this, thank you. Go!" The fray scurried away, back to work, as the doors opened yet again and two men walked through. The one was James Savory, from Cemetery Wind, the other she recognized as one of the agents he worked closely between. He grinned wickedly at her and grabbed her arm roughly, standing her beside him and yanking her forward to the man known as Mr. Attinger.
"Good to see you again, babe. I missed you." He said sarcastically. She growled at him and jerked her arm out of his hand, Cade behind her until they stopped outside the big doors. The man with the limp shoved past them and began walking, waving them forward, until they took the elevator to the sixth floor, and exited. Taking a sharp right, they stopped at a room, constructed of glass all around, where James shoved them inside after Attinger. "I'll be waiting," was all he said, and turned his back on them/
Attinger was a man with a burden, Mira noted. He was roughly six feet tall, broad shouldered, and bald headed with intensely greying hair and wrinkles around his eyes. He had a depressing aura around him—one of power, tyranny, and control. His glare was deep, soul-freezing almost, and when he sat down, his actions resembled that of a snake about to strike. She hated his mysterious danger, and seated herself across from him, Cade beside her, when he gestured and spoke. "Sit. Now."
"I want a lawyer," Cade interjected quickly, "Not from here. From the government. Someone I can trust." Mira shot him a look as if he were insane.
"We trust no one without an Autobot insignia," she directed the statement at Attinger, "Especially if they're from the government. You have nothing on us." She crossed one leg over the other, and glared hard at him behind her glasses. He chuckled and folded his hand together on top of the table. "You're CIA."
He chortled, "How'd you guess?"
"You carry your gun on the left side, slightly higher than the FBI. You learn things in NEST, quick little ID tidbits." She shrugged a shoulder, her voice sarcastic, "What do you want?"
"All I want to know is where Optimus Prime is."
She raised her brow. "That's it? No flashy speech?"
"Would you prefer one?" He narrowed his eyes at her, "The fact of the matter is, Ms. Lennox, is that I don't have time to play your little heroine game. I'm trying to defend the nation, and take back what the enemy Transformers have stolen from us. Your efforts are admirable, but irrelevant."
She rolled her eyes, "And there's the speech."
"You have two options: Tell me what I want to know, and go back to your farm in Texas with your boy," he chuckled at her expression, which was one of fear, "and yes, we know about your son, little Merrick? You go back, and life continues."
Cade snorted, "Yeah? That seems unlikely."
He looked to Cade, "And you will return as well. Your daughter will graduate and you'll go back to your barn, and life will go on as you know it. Your compliance insures your future."
Mira sneered at him, "Autobots never betray their cause," she raised her chin, "usually the cause betrays them first. You'll never get what you want, at least not from me. It's the Autobot way."
He messages his temples, frustration evident in the snarl of his voice. He shot a cool stare at her, one that was freezing with hatred and anger, "You, Miss, are not an Autobot. You are a human first, one of us. You have no right to join them without first having been—"
"—do not tell me what I am!" She screamed at him, "I am an Autobot, keeper of the Shield of the Matrix of Leadership, under Optimus Prime. And I'll fight to keep the Autobot name alive, God so help me. Now, what's the other version of this conversation?" Cade stared at her with wide eyes of amazement, and Attinger did not look impressed.
"Let me get to that."
…
"….and I'll fight to keep the Autobot name alive…"
Optimus silenced the radio, quietness filling the cab. Bryce, Tessa, and Merrick said nothing, only stared at one another for a long moment before directing their attention to the driver's seat—no empty with Mira's absence. So empty it did feel; Optimus had grown reaccustomed to her presence within him, beside him.
"What now?" Tessa asked, quietly, "if they're captured—"
Bryce slammed his fist on the dash, "We go get them, that's what!" He hollered, "that can't take my sister like this, no way!"
Optimus heard Bumblebee second the idea, by the revving of his engine. Drift and Crosshairs sat beside him, silent, awaiting orders. Hound was behind, watching their flanks, as Optimus debated.
It would be hard, and a battle, getting into KSI without bloodshed. Many would be injured, if not hurt, but this is not what troubled him—the humans deserved what they would get, that much was for certain. What bothered him the most was seeing what he find inside that death camp—the remains of his soldiers, his friends. Optimus could hardly bare the pressure in his spark, he thought it would explode.
Mira needed him. She had not betrayed the cause—twice now, she'd defended him and his people. She was good, strong—beautiful, still, even in the face of destruction and compromise. His spark soared with pride in his decisions to give her the Shield—she was indeed worthy of the title of the Keeper. He had not failed in making her a General, and he had not failed by merging his spark with her blood…they were a match, through and through, guardian and charge for now and into eternity. Optimus Prime could think of no one better candidate to guard than her, he could never take as much pride in another as he did in Mira at this very moment.
"Out," he popped open the door. The human scrambled out of him, and he launched his transformation cogs. On a knee, he slammed his fist into the earth and roughly pulled it out again, casting chunks of cement to the side as he did so. Rage burned a course within his Energon, and intense revenge all but seized his circuitry. These humans had betrayed their own kind and would kill them over him, and his men—they would kill Mira, and Cade if they got the chance. Optimus would not allow that chance, and he looked to Bryce and Tessa. "We storm KSI and get Mira and Cade out. That is the plan—that and that alone." He narrowed his optics.
Bryce whipped out his gun and cocked it back, "Sounds good to me."
Tessa looked to Optimus and ran forward, placing a hand on his own, which had returned to the cement gently this time, "You're not going to hurt anyone, right?" Her eyes were compassionate; soft and tender, so full of youthful innocence and purity. Optimus flickered his optics and looked away from her, rising, as the other Autobots transformed, Bumblebee roaring away madly with Bryce now in his care.
"That, young one," he looked to her and began walking, "is something I cannot promise."
Because in all willingness, Optimus Prime would not.
