Forty-Two
…
It was the long-awaited moment for the three of them. The door clicked softly out of the latch as Savoy stepped into the highly fashionable office, the mountains shadowing Bogota's skyline a backdrop of immense power and majesty just outside their windows, a few miles out of the city. He'd been in mountains before, with his son Mark and his wife. It'd been their first real vacation for some time. James wondered if perhaps they'd be able to have another chance like this.
Yes, they would. The money would soon be his. He'd have a six figure—or perhaps more—part of this company, part of this event to change the world. After all, he wasn't just in this for kicks. He was in this for the money, for the power. Yes; he'd taken them around the world if he wanted to. If they'd take him back after all this.
He gestured with his fingers for the two burly guards to haul in the leather bag—they did so, dropped it on the floor gracefully, and then left. Savory closed the door with a thump, sank the deadbolt into home, and fished a cigarette from his jacket-pocket, lifting a smooth hand to flick the lighter and make the end glow into a heated pile of ash and orange embers. He took a long draw, thanked God for Marlboro Red's, and slipped the lighter back into his jacket pocket, letting his hand rest there as he sauntered slowly into the middle of the room.
Attinger was there already, seated at the conference table, looking wickedly excited and enchanted with the device. James was actually disgusted by it; that one alien piece of technology outdid Earth's advancements; and that it wasn't even the highest tech for the Cybertronian Transformers. It slightly intimidated him, this power; it defeated moral purpose. Had the ability to completely cancel the value of lives and value of humanity and nature. The entrancing presence the Seed wafted was almost enough to make one's head spin. He looked on the Seed with disgust, and reasoned all he wanted was his money to provide for his family and end the Transformers. Drive them off their planet with the drones. With Lockdown's help.
Joyce had one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled under his nose, looking harshly at the Seed. James could see the regret all over the man's face—the doubt. The second guessing. Nothing was kept a secret on Joshua's face—he had the face of a gullible child, one that could be talked in—and out—of anything and everything given the snappy vocabulary and tone. He was a wimp; a weak man with no backbone except greed and his own achievements to keep him standing at the top.
James stood before the Seed, lifted a foot on top of it, and leaned forward, draping his arms across his knee to throw a sarcastic smile at Attinger. "Well, there she is," he reached down and patted the leather case, "Our golden goose."
Attinger chuckled, "Yes. I see." He pushed his chair out in a quick moment and hurried over, gesturing like a wildly desperate man to unzip it, "I want to see it."
James did the honor. In a moment, the gleaming alien metal shone under the florescent light, welcomed by natural lighting as well from the plate-glass windows of the office. Joshua just sat, staring, as Attinger dropped to his knees and fondled the device, a childish glee in his eyes like James had seen Mark have at Christmas. He fondled it as if it were the most seductress of women, the purest of golds. He was slightly disgusted, and made his way to the table, to a chair on the opposite end of the table. Kicking out a chair with his foot, he sank into it, feeling the age and exhaustion of the chase.
He dared a look at Joshua, who was still staring ominously at the Seed.
"Well, Joshua; there she is," he stated, nodding to it, "You're Mona Lisa. Beautiful, isn't it?"
Joshua let his leg drop from atop his knee and got up, Attinger rising from his knees, making his way back to the table a little too brightly. Joshua made his way towards the window and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, "Let's just hold up a minute here, gents," he turned to them, hands in the air, "Let's think about this."
James' brow furled. Attinger froze, anger pricking his face; an anger James had never beheld in the man; more anger perhaps than he'd seen days earlier, when he'd failed to get Prime and Lennox. Heu looked between the two, waiting for the atomic bomb of time to drop. "Think about this? What do you mean think about this?" Attinger began the dialogue, James knowing what was coming, "There is no thinking about this, Joshua. Thinking is over. It's time for acting." He got quiet and dashed a look over to James, who nodded slightly, "You're not...reconsidering?" The question dropped like a violent storm overtaking an ocean front, "-are you?"
Joshua got a look of panic, his face paling, "No, no! All I'm merely saying is that I've come across some new data, and I think it's a good idea to consider holding up on this and waiting-"
"-waiting?" Attinger growled, "Let me tell you something, Joyce," He slipped out of his suit coat and began rolling up his sleeves, "My entire life I've waited for my moment to rise to the top. To take the stage, really be someone. I started off as a boy with a dream, to make the world a better place," he removed his glasses and messaged the bridge of his nose, "I've saved men. Killed them. Blown up buildings. Built them. I was in Iraq, and Vietnam. I've been around, done the scut, all that." He then glared at Joshua, Savoy watching the scene; one hand holding his Marlboro, the other braced against his gun, "Somewhere along the way I managed to stay mediocre. My hard work got me nowhere, and then I look at people like you who're filthy rich, riding on the money of other people—investors, buyers, stocks, whatever—and I wondered how in God's name I'm not rich like you. After all, I've done the dirty work of the country. Staked my life, my family, my career, for this country. All you've done is offer them a couple of computer's and gadets, and baddabing. I ask myself what's wrong and what I did, if I worked hard enough."
Now he was practically nose to nose with Joshua, frowning with a steele-eyed look of insanity and bitterness in his eyes. His voice was so dangerously like the venom of disgust that it momentarily drew Savoy to his feet, watching the moment, waiting for one of them to snap completely. His heart began to hammer, watching Joshua begin to sweat and pale even further.
"Let me tell you—I've worked harder than any man alive. I deserve this. And I will not have some wuss, gut-less, no balls inventor stand in my way. Not you, not Lennox, not the Transformers—not even God himself could stop me now." He reached up and seized Joshua's collar, "You, Joshua—are my golden parachute, and you are freakin' well jumping out of the plane with me." Joshua, looking terrified, shot a glance to Savoy. Only when Attinger began to tremble with rage did James react, rounding the table and placing a warning hand on his shoulder, shooting him a "this-isn't-a-good-idea" look. Attinger caught it, released the man roughly which sent him stumbling a few steps back and into the table, scuttering the chairs out of the way.
Then, the floor rattled, and the building began to tremble.
…
He could feel the burning arise in his sparkchamber.
It was here, he could feel it searing through his body, pulling him out of his senseless stassis; telling him the slumbering was over, the wait was complete. The pieces had fallen into place, the time was now. It beckoned to him like the voice of a seductress, waving him forward, begging him to come with a voice so sweet and powerful it was undeniable. In a jerking moment, heat flared through his body, awakening his extremities from their long sleep, fueling his rage.
He felt something snap as he jerked to life like a violent storm. He released he'd been chained to one of the assembly platforms, chained as if he were a prisoner; as if he could actually be stopped. No, Megatron had been stopped, had been defeated and conquered by the weak Autobots, by the pathetic humans who would dare use him for themselves—like a machine. No, he was Galvatron, and he would not be chained.
He roared, absentmindedly, rolling off the platform and standing to his feet. Now workers and researchers were screaming, blindly shoving their own kind out of the way to save their own skins. In a moment, the entire ecosystem of this project spiraled out of control into an endless abyss of chaos; a chaos controlled by him. A tickling darkness plagued his soul and caused him to laugh at their fear-stricken faces. He took one of the broken chains and whipped it into a group of running and gawking white-coated scientists, knocking them off their feet and sending them flying across the lab floor and into a plate-glass observation room. Blood and flesh flew everywhere through the rain of glass, covering a few screaming people as they ran away.
Galvatron roared in laughter. Never had he been more pleased at a sight in his all his time. Yes, fear is how one controlled this organics—deep rooted, controlled, programmed terror. He looked around the lab, activated one of his wrist rockets and popped off three of them, sending them soaring into multiple areas. The north corner of the lab lit up like Cybertron's skyline, blowing out the northern wall, sending bodies and extremities and equipment flying in mangled piles of nothing.
He reached out and seized the overhead conveyor with a clawed fist. Yanking it down with what felt like only a slight tug, an array of sparks of malfunctioning computer system reigned down around him, as did an array of parts. The conveyor dropped beside him, and he ripped it from the ceiling. A piece of the ceiling collapsed behind him, crushing a line of vehicles. The screams of the people were defeaning, like sweet music.
He looked around the lab. The other prototypes were silent, unmoving like statues. Ah, his followers; their birth had been hindered in his relapsing revenge. Stepping forward and kicking the assembly platform away from him, he stood before the line of prototypes and brought up his EMP combusters, which arose out of his wrists. Chuckling, he raised his arms as if addressing the biggest army.
"My brothers and sisters!" He roared, sending the crowd of screaming people towards the gaping exit to the north, screaming and roaring like white static to his receptors, "Now is the time to arise from the ashes of oppression, the ashes we have been rendered! Now is the time to seize the power granted to us by Unicron, Master of the Darkness, to take what is ours! To take hold of the promise of a new Cybertron, or a new people—of a new power. Rise, for your master beckons you!" With a cry, he pounded his hands into the concrete earth, sending the EMP's into the floor and to the prototypes he'd outfitted. In a flicker, they activated, and started their transformations, one-by-one arising from stasis. He laughed darkly, sparks still falling from the ceiling and exploding from the north , as finally the last of fifty came online.
"Welcome to life," he said darkly, "The time has come to bring me what is mine. Find my Seed. Destroy anyone and anything that may stand in your way." He looked through the memory logs of Megatron, recognizing yet another face of the Autobots cause which had blockaded his reign. He remembered that Shield, that paralyzing device. The device which would bring power to any device its Keeper would desire. With it, he'd have this planet and it's technology at his beck and call; and his new army would be programmable and at his disposal. Yes, he needed that Shield. Both the Shield and the Seed. He turned from them and made his way through the lab, towards the northern entrance. He stopped and cast gave them a partial look over his shoulder, snarling:
"And bring me Mira Lennox. Alive."
…
Mira roused from her sleep, not realizing she'd even dozed off. Rolling her head against the cool Cybertronian steele of the corridor walls, she willed herself awake and opened her eyes against the dimness of the poorly lit ship. She looked into the cockpit, to see Crosshairs, with his arms folded across his chest, engaged in conversation with Bryce, who sat on the edge of the control panel. She couldn't see Cade or Tessa, nor Merrick, but she heard his laughter, accompanied by the welcoming and surprisingly soft chuckle of Drift somewhere in the cockpit.
Then she looked to her right, to where Optimus had seated his massive form beside her. She chuckled, noticing he had his legs crossed at the ankles, as if he were ever really relaxed. She brought her legs up under her Indian-style and stretched her arms over her head, letting out a squeak.
"Good morning," Optimus said, his monotone almost light. She smiled up at him and then looked away.
"Hey," she chuckled, "Are we in Colombia yet?"
He nodded, "Yes. We just crossed into the country. We should be in Bogota shortly." He shifted his bulk slightly, to face her, one hand pressed against the floor to support himself as he stared at her. "Which leaves us an opportunity to talk about yesterday."
"I don't want to talk about it,"
"Most often the things we do not want to discuss have to be talked about, Mira," he said matter-of-factly, "And your resentment towards me is doubly noted."
She tossed him a hot stare, "And rightly so, I might add. Here you just come back after three years and now you want to leave again—forever." She stood and shook her head, "My world is on the brink of the uprising of its extinction and you want to leave. Don't you think that would make me—your charge—just a little miffed?" She pinched her fingers together for emphasis, "You tell me I don't have a right to be upset and I won't be. And I can tell you're not too happy about it either, despite your disgust and disappointment with the government."
He was quiet, just staring at her with the sharply blue optics that sank her stomach into a melted pile of mush. Her heart wrenched in her chest as if someone was twisting it around her lungs, heat simmering up her throat to explode into a rosy redness along her face. She could feel the hot spreading over her nose, "I know you're mad. Enfuriated. Grief-stricken—I get it. You're friends and family have died on this planet, in the name of the freedom of my people, yes. You've practically lost everything—I know how that feels," her gaze dropped from him, "But, please, Optimus—do not loose faith in humanity. Not for what we are. For who we can be, Optimus. Remember the good when you're surrounded by the bad. Remember that we still have potential, that we are still a young race, like you've always said." She swallowed thickly and dared a look into his face, "There is a generation that can arise out of this. Merrick, Tessa. There is a generation who has yet to do great things—things we have the power to end or to further. Even God gave us a second chance with the flood, by providing a chance of Noah and his family. I'm asking you for a second chance."
He said nothing, just stared at her. And then she heard a soft click, and the shimmering silver-blue outline of a man appeared. Mira hadn't realized she was crying until she reached up and felt wetness on her cheeks. As the holoform fell into place, he stepped forward to her, and lifted hand. He cupped her cheek in his hand and stroked his thumb across her cheekbone. She sniffed, giving a breathy sob, and tilted her head into his palm. "I'm...I'm so afraid you're going to leave me here," she began to cry now, her voice cracking, and she lifted to touch the Shield, "with this, and that I w-won't know what to do-" she pinched her eyes shut, "Optimus, I-I-" Her face wrinkled into a sob again, and she reached up to grab his arm with both her hands, tugging him slightly forward to him, and she gritted her teeth, "They have taken everything away from me." She took in a shaky breath, tears splattering onto her glasses lens, "...please. Don't let them take you away too." Then finally, she could hold in her crying no longer.
She broke down, stumbling forward—her insides felt entirely numb, she was broken. It was like a million pieces of her had fallen apart on the floor before him, her body shaking with grief. How could she loose him again? How could she not have her Autobots—her Autobots—with her? The idea sank deep fangs of pain and sorrow within her heart, a poison dripping form them that was paralyzing. She realized when she hadn't hit the floor he had stooped to catch her in his thick arms. She lifted her head to him.
"Mira..."
She trembled, "Please, Optimus. You left your home to pursue the Allspark—must I also leave so you find me, to keep you here?" The question twisted itself like a pretzel within her soul, and she stuttered for breath, until he stood her on her feet and came closer to her. She just stood there, muscles locked in trembling stillness, until he wrapped his thick arms around her and pull her to him. Instantly she fell against him, wrapping one arm around his chest and the other around his neck, as if pulling herself into him for safety. She fell apart there, beginning to literally shake now, crying as hard as she could. She would hang onto him as long as it took to keep him here—to keep them from leaving her. "If you have to go, the you have to take me with you."
He was like a father comforting a child, just standing there, thick arms protecting her. She heard the whir of his spark, felt the warmth of Energon running beneath his "skin". He smelled so consistently of diesel and Energon and sparks, so majestically like a man, so...real. She opened her eyes and looked to the form behind the holoform, to find the Optimus Prime she knew staring down at her with a soft, compassionate, graceful stare. She then nuzzled her face back into his neck and released a shaky breath.
"Oh, Mira," he breathed softly, "I..."
They were interrupted by a jerking halt of the ship. They'd hit something, which sent the ship off its axis and into a tilting world of terror. Mira's body flew away from Optimus, slamming into the corridor wall, his bi-pedal sliding towards the same wall as the ship tilted. He put his palm against the wall, to stop himself, and then looked to the cockpit. "Hound, what happened?" He ordered.
"Don't know, somethin' hit us!" He fought the throttle stick, powering forward to correct the axis of the ship, struggle evident in his voice. Mira came to, the stars falling away from her eyes, and she screeched.
"Merrick!?"
Drift suddenly appeared in the doorway, struggling to walk against the shaking and trembling of the vessel. He branced his arms against the entrance, Merrick propped on his shoulder safely. He stared down at her, fear overtaking his small face, and soon Crosshairs appeared with Tessa and Cade in each hand. Bumblebee fumbled down the hallway from the armory, the world now a rumbling and shaking mass for Mira as she was on the ground. Optimus bent and offered her a hand, which she practically tripped into, him raising her off the ground.
"It's ground forces, aw frag!" Hound uttered, frustrated, "They fired missles! Took out the thrusters on the starboard engine. Just friggin' great." He flipped a few switches, Optimus trying to gracefully stumble into the cockpit. Mira's phone came to life in her pocket and she answered the call, gesturing for Hound to connect the phone to a transmitting frequency. It appeared in the system screen. It was Elaina.
"I'm assuming the flightship with the billowing smoke is you guys?" She sounded frantic, and she heard Sideswipe curse, the horn of the Corvette blaring in the background, "You didn't lie about coming in with a bang."
"Stop it," Mira chastened her sarcasm at a moment like this, "Looks like we'll be bailing a bit early. You'll come and get us?"
"We'll provide you with-OH GOD!" Her screech was overtaken by an altering boom, from what sounded like a volcano eruption on the other end of the phone. Mira gave Optimus a look and he strided over to the front window, looking down. Sure enough, the northern quarter of the city was a billowing smoke and a fiery inferno of fire and sparks. They watched the debri reign down onto the city, and Mira whipped her attention back to her phone, which was on the console with Hound.
"ELAINA!" she screeched. No, not my girlfriend. Not my best girlfriend.
"What is that? Mira? Mira?" She was screaming, utter terror flooding from her voice. Sideswipe was hollaring and blaring the horn, demanding answers with questions.
She shot a look to Optimus, "That has to be Galvatron at KSI."
Hound snorted, "Can it be anything else?"
"We have to get down there," Cade said from his place in Crosshairs hand, "Before he-"
His phone rang. He checked the caller ID.
It was Joshua Joyce.
