A/N: Okay, so very filler. Just a quick note: there is an OC mentioned, Mark, who does not belong to me. He belongs to Answerthecall, in his story "A Matter of Fate", and he's used with permission. Enjoy the filler, more to come eventually.

Thirty

The chopper blades beat rhythmically as they came over the water of the harbor.

Attinger had decided to stay behind for this event, a fact that James was relieved about. The man had really set a fire within his belly after just willingly allowing a human woman to be captured and taken aboard a space vessel as prisoner. When Lockdown had confirmed that he had Prime—and Lennox—he'd told them to prepare for reception of the Seed. Attinger hadn't batted an eye at this, while James' stomach had soured into a disgusted pool of bitterness towards the man's lasciviousness.

James hadn't been necessary a killer his entire life. But, after his sister's death in Chicago—he had set out for a mission or revenge, vengeance. He'd found revenge didn't just go away like people though; the movies did have it right: it ate and ate away at a soul until there wasn't anything left at blackness. And yet, even in that empty blackness, it still grew and ate as it made its way through your morals, what you would and wouldn't compromise, and straight into the heart. He had once stood for the betterment of the people, equality; peace. Aspects which had been lost to this war. He'd once been the man to fight for his family—his beautiful wife, and his only son, Mark; who was perhaps the only thing that kept his liberties tied firmly into the American Dream. But, these aliens—these Transformers—had ruined America, had ruined the Earth. They'd taken everything the world had built for itself and thrown it into the fire. They'd shattered American lives. And for that, they'd continue to pay.

As well as their sympathizers.

The chopper came in for a landing through an opening in the ship, on the east side. Lockdown was there, on the landing pad, his fist clenched around a long cylinder-type object that resembled an actual, organic seed. He had a look of disgust and hatred in his eyes—optics, or whatever they were—as they landed and boarded, the chopper not even powering down. James touched his ear and told the pilot to stand-by.

"I'd assume that was the Seed if I didn't already now," the whipping air from the chopper blades was strong, pulling at his resolve to stand firm. He did not relent and slitted his eyes at the being. He stared back, heavily. "Now that you've raked us over the coals."

"One Seed, for a Prime and a girl? To rid you of festering problems you would only extinguish anyway? A small price to pay." He snorted in disgust and placed the Seed on the floor, then rolled it to them with his foot as if it were a disgusting dog, "Our deal is done. I trust you are ready for such…responsibility."

James' team began bagging the Seed in a transport bag, a leather one with thick zippers and handles. He knelt, patted it with a satisfied half smile, and then looked up to the bounty-hunter with a look of tolerance, "Don't worry about us. We can handle this."

"Just like you've handled everything else," Lockdown spat at them vehemently, his voice soft but firm with angry chastisement, "do not think you are infallible, human. Everything—everyone—falls at least once in existence, if not more." He turned on his heel, and put up a hand as his back was turned to them as if waving them off flippantly, "I will not miss this place, this wretched planet."

"But we'll miss you, ray of sunshine," James uttered just loud enough for his men to chortle at. Lockdown kept walking.

"Farewell…." Lockdown stopped, glanced over his shoulder and snorted disgustingly. James ordered the Seed to be loaded and stopped to look at the halted form of robot, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. He heard the last of Lockdown's sentiment as he clicked his belt into place.

"…Earth."