A/N: I know it's been forever! I apologize for the delay...Christmastime got the best of me, as did studies. Life has been a bit up in the air, and unfortunately, I have been at a bit of a writer's block for poor Mira (and, I'm afraid, still am). I'm trying to work through it, with this lame addition, but you'll have to forgive me. I'm afraid as of now it's slow going, as I am a crazy busy college Junior en-route to Senior year. Please enjoy, drop your comments, and thanks for sticking through it!

Forty-Six

. . .

The prototype went limp on Crosshair's' wrist-blade, light flickering out of its optics before the weight of the sagging machine urged him to drop the being. It hit the concrete with a hard thud, which shook the earth only briefly. Crosshairs wondered for a moment where Drift had wondered off too, but he got his answer when he saw the helicopter thrumming away overhead, east. Crosshairs sent a comm to him, and Drift only relied in an encoded message, not a live one, that he was going to intercept more prototypes.

Crosshairs used his GPS to locate Mira, and found her about four miles north from his position. He also noted that Hound and Sideswipe were with her, and he decided that was enough back-up that she would need. He, on the other hand, was going to catch up with Bumblebee and see what in the heck was going on, since Hound had told them to keep their eyes open for him. Crosshairs' mind drifted to the humans—Cade and Bryce and the children. What a mess for them to be in the middle of all of this.

He checked his surroundings, found that none of the prototypes were getting up, and he abandoned the scene—fast. Kicking into fourth gear in a second-gear only intersection, he rocketed through the streets. Entering a part of the city which hadn't been entirely destroyed yet, he slammed on the brakes as a panicking woman and three children high-tailed it out of an apartment complex and made a run for the alley. He watched them go, and a part of him simmered with boiling rage—it reminded him of Cybertron, a home he'd watched flourish and thrive so many eons before, only to witness it burn to the ground in a heaping pile of ashes. He'd seen fear in the eyes of mothers then—fear and rage in their very souls. He'd vowed never again to be a part of such destruction. But now, here he was, witnessing it all over again—Galvatron tearing apart yet another innocent planet in the name of tyranny and revenge.

As the human mother and her children vanished, he rocketed forward. He found Bumblebee's Energon signature, obviously engaged, and drifted around a corner, skidding through a fallen stoplight. Crosshairs came to an abrupt halt as a flying piece of concrete collided with the street before him. Initiating his cogs, he watched Bumblebee's form go flying through the air, a result of an ion blast. Crosshairs charged forward, guns ablaze, showering the enemy with a barrage of gunfire before diving around the corner and plucking a streetlamp from the sidewalk. He speared it at the prototype and it lodged itself into the shoulder.

"Goodtah see ya, 'Bee!" he hollered above the mechanical screeching of a seemingly speechless prototype. The being charged at him, but he dropped his shoulder and rolled out of the way, popping to across the intersection, where Bumblebee got his bearings and stood to his feet. He gave Crosshairs the thumbs-up sign and raised his solar cannons, sending off a few rounds before shoving Crosshairs out of the way. He dived the same direction as a mini-van collided with the building behind them, glass and mortar and brick falling around them. A heavier piece of building crashed in Crosshair's arm, but he shoved it off and cursed in Cybertronian. Bumblebee squawked a concern.

"I'm fine!" Crosshairs barked, "Let's frag this piece of molten steel and find Prime. I'm done with this game!" Bumblebee gave him a firm nod and they charged the prototype, now horrified by the cascade of gunfire coming from his two attackers. Crosshairs launched his body through the air, positioned a kick, and send his foot slamming into the enemy's face. He mech hit the street hard, and Bumblebee was on top of him, slamming his massive fist into the smaller being's face make-up. Crosshairs activated his wrist blade again and cut the lines—which he assumed in human engineering were important—leading the prototype's leg servos. Sure enough, a mixture of fluids began pouring out the prototype's lines. Bumblebee shut up the squealing toaster by ripping out a major set of workings from the machine's neck.

Bumblebee stood and flicked the workings away from him, looking disgusted. He chirped.

"I agree. It's a fraggin' good thing they're easy to take down, cause Primus knows how many Galvatron has." He jerked his head in the direction of Mira's signature. "Let's go find the girl and meet up with Hound and Sides. Prime can't be too far behind." Bumblebee whizzed in agreement and they transformed down. Roaring from the destroyed scene, Crosshairs caught a flash of red and blue cross the intersection behind him. The other bot noted his presence and sent a piercing air-horn cry to them in recognition.

"Found Optimus," he told Bumblebee, who acknowledged him as well, "A'right, then, let's get behind the boss. Hard right, 'Bee, and we'll catch him at the next intersection."

. . .

Atmospheric reentry went well. So well, in fact, that Lockdown was beginning to wonder if this planet had any natural defenses at all.

He got his answer when he was able to make into the atmosphere without any worry or confrontation. No wonder so many of his kind were after such a planet—it was rich with resources, organic life, and was an easy target for take-over. Sure, it wasn't necessarily large enough to house their kind like Cybertron had been, but it would get the job done until the planet was habitable again. Kill off a few million of the organics and make room for them, he assumed was the plan. Develop this planet prematurely, sap it of its resources, and then leave it to die on its own. It seemed like a flawless plan on any tyrannical warlord's part, true enough, but Lockdown knew there was much more to it than this. Surely such a young planet could not be left to die?

He'd thought about this long and hard, to be sure. It would require giving up everything he knew—his riches, his prizes, his lust for blood and life. But, would power over a world be enough to satiate him? It had for so many others—for even Megatron, who had been thirsty for Energon in the gladiatorial pits, had found satisfaction in ruling a world and its people. It was a different type of power, Lockdown noted, a power that was reverent instead of furiously passionate. Mercenary work require gutlessness and a numb emotional state, but ruling…ruling required cunning leadership abilities and a strong fist, not necessarily emotion. Even the very thought of ruling such a young and underdeveloped planet made him intoxicated and desperate for more.

Yes, he had decided he would rule this planet, and Mira was going to help him do it.

After all, the public would trust one of their own—especially one of their own who was so diligent in helping save their race against the alien invasions of the Cybertronians. She would be the face of this hostile takeover—her and her Shield, which would transform the technology of this planet to a mechanical army loyal to her—and in turn loyal to him, for she would be his pet, his puppet, his…experiment. Yes, the government would bow their knee to him, Lockdown; leader of the Cybertronians, ruler of the organic planet Earth. He could envision this already…

But Mira. A twinge of something hit him—a twinge of intrigue. Lockdown had never been one for feminine trickery or wiles, they were a were gender and a weak kind. Sure, he had taken advantage of a few femmes in his lifetime—any mech would in his line of work. He'd ripped a few sparks out, promises another few, even loved a couple more—if you could feigning love to get the job done love at all. But, as he remembered the softness of her organic flesh, and the suppleness of her anatomic make-up, something flared within his sparkchamber-something he had abandoned long ago due to lack of exposure. He wanted to see this human woman, Mira, sitting beside him as he ruled; adorned in the highest human garb and riches money could buy. He wanted to see her command, see her hatred, see her turn against her people. He wanted to see her despise him; for in those looks could man see a woman's real intention, her real ideals and her real goals. He wanted to see if she was who Optimus Prime said she was, or if she would fall and crumble like the rest of those given power. If she would fail.

Because Lockdown was most sure she would.

. . .

"Looks like we've got company," Elaina maneuvered the side-mirror with quick hand to look behind them, "He still owes me money." She huffed. Optimus chuckled at the reflection. Elaina hadn't changed a bit since her departure here to South America.

Optimus checked the other mirror to find Bumblebee flash his lights, Optimus acknowledging his presence by doing the same. Elaina looked to the steering wheel of the semi and wrinkled her brow, then looked out her mirror again to see the Corvette. "Looks like they've been in a tussle," Elaina referred to the scratches and indents on Crosshairs' chassi, "These prototypes are combat oriented? I mean, back there they seemed pretty…proficient."

"If it is Galvatron's doing, I have no doubts," Optimus replied, "Though it seems they are not entirely difficult to engage. They're combat is primitive, underdeveloped."

"You think it's due to human engineering and our tech that's put into them?" She questioned, "I mean, you said these prototypes were made by some guy through this KSI place—wouldn't that mean they are primarily human technology?"

Optimus considered her question before replying. He didn't know the limitations of Galvatron's prototypes, or if the metals used—Transformium—were capable of withstanding Cybertronian functionality. Then again he considered Mira and the Shield—the technology which the Shield controlled seemed not to suffer in functionality—it handled Cybertronian technology just fine. Optimus dismissed the idea, "I do not know, and it is not my primary concern." With that, he swerved left, receiving a transmission from Crosshairs about Mira and Joshua. Optimus ignored it. He felt the tension rack Elaina's body, every nerve within her was tense.

"Optimus, this is Hound," The burley mech's voice sounded frustrated, exhausted, and a mixture of other emotions which he was thankful he couldn't identify, "I think you should probably be aware of the situation—" This tone drove Optimus to consider his words, note his tone. It was one that was dangerously cautious—and quiet, strangely. In the background, there was the shattering of glass, and he heard Bryce shout something. There was a scream, notably from Tessa. Then there was a scuffle, heavy footfalls, and cannon fire. From what he could guess, they were running now, taking cover, because Sideswipe was declaring he could provide cover fire while they made their exit. Optimus immediately considered the humans and panicked.

"Hound, report back immediately!" He sent the transmission with as much aggression as he could manage. Elaina was strumming her fingers along the window's ledge, watching Crosshairs roar beside the semi's passenger's side, Bumblebee at the driver's. Optimus' spark was hot with rage and concern, until Elaina's scream sent it plummeting into a whirlwind of panic.

"OPTIMUS!" Her hands braced against the dash as the car came at them, soaring through the air as if it had been hurled by a tornado. Optimus, putting on the brakes, slid to a stop sidesways, Crosshairs ahead of him and Bumblebee slightly behind. The car came soaring overhead, crashed behind them, and Elaina was pressed against the window, staring at the figure roughly a mile away down the city street.

Optimus' spark dropped.

. . .

"On your knees." Attinger removed the gun from Joshua's temple, gesture to the space before her. Mira stood, unwilling to move, sweat dripping down her body. The Shield blazed against her chest, and she felt the presence of Savoy behind her, smirking. Joshua looked utterly and completely terrified. Mira thought fast, glanced at the window behind them, set slightly to the left—would the Shield move that quickly…?

Having obviously ignored his comment, he screamed now, spittle flying from his mouth. "Now, Lennox!" Savoy hit her hand in the lower back, sending her forward and not only to her knees, but her hands as well. Pain erupted up her spine and into her legs, and she groaned.

"Better." Attinger snarled. He shoved Joshua to the bed and ordered him to sit. Attinger then looked at Savoy, who nodded in confirmation. Mira lifted her head and spit at the man's feet, disgusted with his aura. Glancing to the window again, he continued, "Now. I believe a certain alien friend of mine requested your presence aboard his ship once, and is less than enthused about your…escape."

So Lockdown knew they had gotten off the ship, and he would be back to collect them. Great. "If there is one thing Lockdown isn't, it's your friend," she was on her knees now, running the back of her hand across her forehead to swipe away the sweat, "He's going to kill you just like everyone else."

He chuckled, "On the contrary, Lockdown and I have an agreement, and—"

"—you have your Seed," Mira interjected quickly, "and you have a bigger problem than your understanding with Lockdown—" she looked to Joshua, "Galvatron is active and is coming for that thing. So, if you want it, fine. I'll give it to you. But you can deal with the psychopath warlord with a vendetta. I'll make sure a really nice microscope is used to identify your remains," Attinger said nothing, only stood stone still, the gun pointed at her face. Mira didn't care, just sat there on her knees, staring into his hideous face, "Right now I'm your only shot at stopping Galvatron—Optimus is your only shot."

"We control Galvatron," Savoy said, back to them, facing Savoy still, "She's manipulating you."

She looked to him from around Attinger's form, "No, you don't. I wish you did, really I do." Her voice trailed, and Attinger looked as if he got a bright idea.

"Lockdown will end Galvatron. I don't need your aliens."

She raised a brow, "And what makes you so sure of that?"

"He won't get your—or Prime—if he doesn't."

Mira, genuinely enthused, scoffed at him, "Oh? And you don't think he'll just come and collect himself? Attinger, Lockdown's been collecting for himself long before you came on the scene. He's skilled at what he does," she looked and pointed at the Seed, "Right now, all we have is that, and it's away from Galvatron. That's all that matters. If it ends up any other way than that—well, World War III would be prettier than what Galvatron has planned."

There was quiet a moment. "You're bluffing."

"I wish I was."

They were still. Attinger, with the gun still pointed at Mira, and Savoy with his gun still leveled off at Joshua's forehead. It was a thousand degrees and heat was running through Mira's blood, which pumped hard throughout her ears. She swore her head was loud enough for the entire world to hear. She saw realization fall to Attinger's face, and then disappear when the eruption happened from behind them.

Splintering wood rained down, there was a scream, and then Mira was soaring through the air, shoving Attinger into the beside table, knocking Savoy down with a savage punch to the back of the knee. She latched onto Joshua, pulled him from the bed, and, in two strides, she soared into the window, sending it falling in. She fell out first, Joshua following, until she released him and they fell separate ways. Mira heard the familiar voices of her brother and Cade Yeager, followed by a scream below them as well as a pop of gunfire. Without realizing what had happened, she hit the earth—or, what she presumed to be the earth—and blackness seized her being.