A/N: Very short, I'm sorry! I'm busy, busy, but here ya'll are, another filler. Thanks for hanging in there, more to come later. Next chapter will be one more short one, then a bigger chapter next time with Mira I promise.
Also, sort of a huge plot-change here. I'm rethinking the location of the final battle-for good reason, too! The location switch with allow for me to integrate a new character (actually, two new characters) into the story-line, one that will take a bigger part in the sequel (and yes, there is a sequel!). She won't be mentioned much, but she will be foreshadowed here. Sorry to ruin everybody's hopes about Hong Kong, but Asia has enough attention in most other movies.
Thirty-Four
…
"It's beautiful," Attinger chuckled, running his hand along the thick steel-looking armor the Seed. His eyes filled with lustful pleasure, and James had to crack a half smile. He crossed his legs at the ankles, leaned against the Cadillac, and lit a cigarette. He then looked up, to Lockdown's ship. It was sitting, cold and still as it awaited liftoff, but it was anchored more heavily than it had been previously. Attinger re-zipped the Seed back into its cocoon case, and then ordered the nearby Cemetery Wind soldiers to load it in the back of the Caddy.
"Yeah, well, so was the girl we traded for it," Savoy muttered, cradling the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, "What are we gunna do with her family?"
Attinger shrugged it off, reaching into his breast pocket for his cell, "We'll declare her dead. Killed in the line of duty. That way her family in the north won't suspect anything."
"And the kid? Her brother?"
Harold flashed him an icy look, "What do you think?"
Savoy stood, reached for the gun in his waist-band, and pulled it out. Slamming a new magazine into the grip, he chuckled, "Sounds good to me."
"Don't make a mess," Harold chuckled.
Savoy gave him a half smile, "I'll try."
Harold pressed the phone to his ear.
…
"But, Mr. Joyce—"
"He was a failure! And complete and utter flop, Grumbly! And in this business we don't do flops!"
Joshua Joyce was more than irritatingly rageful. He was purely tyrannical as he shouted orders to and fro across the destroyed laboratory. Men and women began running emergency diagnostics as other mechanics and flight teams prepped transport planes and lifts. His veins seemed to be coursing with angry venom, which had transformed him from a billionaire inventor to a mad, erotic, and psychopathic child whose toys were broken. He hated this stress, this failure. He'd have to start all over—at least three months of new diagnostics, programming's. And another three for damage control, collateral comp, and repairs to the drones. He hated Cemetery Wind even more, and cursed the Autobots more than once in his mind.
His phone rang.
Brutally ripping it from his pants pocket, he answered the call. "Joyce," he growled. The phone came alive with Harold Attinger, his dear old friend. His rage seethed at the man yet again who had forced his creations into public testing grounds.
"Don't be so upset, my friend. We have banked."
This did only a little to sooth his anger, "Yeah, well, when we went to bank, my drones went to hell and back!" His voice raged as he paced before the semi. He stopped and looked at it from the corner of his eyes, sitting motionless as a mechanic worked on its computing systems, "They entirely failed!"
"Calm down, Joshua—"
He stopped. "Don't tell me to calm down! You invest your entire company, your entire life into a project, have it forced into premature testing, and then watch it crash and burn! The you can tell me to calm down, Harold! This is going to set me back months, millions of dollars—"
"Millions of dollars? We've just gained control of the planet, Joyce! The entire future of robotics and technologies, man! Think of the money. Soon a million or two won't be anything but Monopoly money." This shut him up, truth be told, but something pitted in his stomach, "I have the Seed. Where are you going? I heard you brought in planes?"
Joshua sighed, "We're transferring the prototypes to the Colombia facility to do repairs. We'll be there by morning."
"Good. I'll meet you there then. Don't be so upset, Joyce. Nothing—nobody—can top us anymore."
As he ended the call, something in the back of his mind told him otherwise.
…
The return gunfire as insanely heavy and they were pinned down by the Quailin. Optimus and his the rest of his men were around the corner, and they had managed to repress the drones across the walkway and into the entrance terminal connecting the Quailin's court-yard like room to the rest of the ship. Hound had managed to override the lockdown system and reverse the order. Now the ship was an open battle-ground, with anyone running anywhere. It was a complicated mess of events, but Optimus knew the ship well after many eons, and had managed to get them to the safety of the Quailin. They were headed in the right direction to the detachable ship. Just after the last drone had been shot down did Optimus even think about the humans.
"Mira!" He activated his comm and shouted into it as if his life depended on it. She did not reply, which could only mean she was either engaged, hiding, or dead. Optimus did not like any of those options, and halfway down the connecting terminal, the comm connected.
"Get off me!" There was a snarl, followed by gunfire, and then a scream, "Merrick! Hold on! Optimus!" She sounded frantic, and overwhelmed, and the growling and snarling seemed much to close for Optimus to be reassured. Everyone must have received the comm, because they all stopped and listened, giving him worried looks of concern.
"We can't just let them be out there by themselves," Drift was the first to present the thought running through all their minds, "It doesn't sound good."
Crosshairs shrugged, "Serves them right for running off and breaking formation, rebellious fraggers," He uttered. Bumblebee gave him a sharp stare before clicking and quirking, shooting Optimus a comm message.
"I'll go get them," Optimus nodded and waved Bumblebee off. Saluting lazily, Bumblebee took off from where they'd just come, vanishing around the corner. Crosshairs got a nervous look on his face and then sighed.
"Now I feel like an aft," he uttered, "I'll follow him. We'll catch up with you two ladies later," he then took off after Bumblebee, leaving Drift and Optimus alone. The two of them shared a look.
"This could be potentially catastrophic," Drift mused.
"Have faith, friend," Optimus scanned the area outside the exit of the terminal, "Just have some faith."
"With Crosshairs and Bumblebee? Did you forget who we are talking about?"
