It seemed like Hell had unlocked the gates.
Will sat back in Ace's office chair. He had taken refuge in her office from the out-right ghastly nightmare that laid merely outside the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. The Major suffered one too many things floating around his head - the most prominent one being his wife, Shara. The pregnancy wasn't going well, and it looked like the baby wasn't going to make it. There was only so much Will could do from the base. He wanted to be home with this wife and daughter more than anything, to be able to take Shara into his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. It was problematic for Shara to keep it together around Annabelle, their first daughter.
Not to mention that, on top of Shara's growing depression, there was a growing threat. Not a day after Optimus and Ace had left base; the signal had come in. A reading no mech or man in N.E.S.T. wanted to see. Since the signal came through the atmosphere, Decepticon-related attacks had been reported from all over the world. Fires, shootings, sightings of metal giants, demolished buildings, and more. Chaos reigned over the N.E.S.T. base, panic seeping into every soldier though no face showed the fear. Will tried to mask his fear, but with his wife, daughter, and a good-as-dead baby... there wasn't much left to hold him together.
"Here's what I do. I start with physical appearance - an assessment of the subject. It's what I did with you when I met you at the bar. That's how I knew I could trust you."
She was too intelligent for her own good, Ace. She knew how to read anyone and everyone like it was nothing - like it was as simple as singing the ABCs... Will's head popped up as he thought of this. The mechanics in his brain began to whirr to life as he thought back to Ace's pieces of advice she'd littered around here and there.
"I start with physical appearance - an assessment of the subject."
Will huffed as he sat up in Ace's chair. It goes without saying he had looked at the attack sites - but he hadn't really looked at them. Not the way Ace did. He didn't take in every detail, and he certainly didn't take note of anything odd about the attacks other than the fact they were unprovoked. But when was any Decepticon attack provoked? Will laughed. He was starting to sound like Ace. He briefly thought about contacting her and Optimus again and informing them of the situation, but knowing the pair, they would high-tale it back to the base - an action Ratchet forbid anyone from causing. The last thing anyone wanted was to cause harm to the Prime or his lover, hence Will's reluctance to call. He groaned and slid down into the seat again. What was left for him to do? Without Ace there, little would be able to be accomplished. Will needed her mind - he needed to know what she would do or what she would conclude. He probably couldn't appreciate half the things that went on in her mind, to be honest.
"I start with physical appearance,"
The Major got up to his feet. The least he could do was try to think like Ace. He knew he wouldn't come close to the kind of answer she would give, but damn if he needed at least a hint. Indubitably something would give away the primary target. There was no obvious giveaway - no pattern to follow. Will started to pace, his hand scratching the minute stubble growing on his chin. Will groaned.
"Fuck this," he mumbled.
He started for the door to the office and yanked it open. Outside, the hanger was in disarray as both soldiers and Autobots moved around to prepare for whatever may come next. Will felt his fear increase tenfold, but this was no time to cower. He would allow time to panic after he completed his mission, and right now that was to find some sort of clue. Will chose the catwalk as his target, hoping someone on a computer would be able to display what he needed to see. From the corner of his eye, Will noticed Bumblebee sitting on a massive wooden crate. Bee had been moping around since Ace had left the base. It was endearing to see the Autobot so attached to someone. Bee was remarkably like a teenager. Young, dazed, and even mystified.
Will made it to the top of the catwalk. He approached one of the empty computers and sat in the chair. It wasn't comfy by any means. He briefly wondered how any of the technicians could stand to sit in one of those things for hours on end. For all her knew, it was the hyped-up coffee or the constant adrenaline rushes. Will jerked his head; he was a man on a mission. It wasn't problematic to retrieve the pictures. They were in the newest file next to a one titled "Fluffy Boiz." The Major hesitated on proceeding while he stared at the name. What on Earth could that have been about? He made a mental note to ask and then set to work pulling up each of the photos.
"There's gotta be something," he murmured. He dragged each picture around. He arranged the photos in order from which one had happened first to which happened last. He imagined it would be something Ace would do, but it just didn't seem fitting.
"No, no, no. Think, Will," he could imagine her saying. "When are things ever that easy with Decepticons? Forget the order and just look. Recount what you see."
Will leaned closer to the screen. His mild brown eyes dashed across each picture over to the next, taking in the necessary information.
"Come on, Will. You're barely looking at the pictures. You have to look. Abandon everything you know about Decepticons and start fresh. What do you recognize?"
The Major sighed in frustration. Even without Ace there, he could still hear her very well. He gnawed his lip out of nervous habit. What was he lacking? What wasn't he heeding? Naturally, there were the broken-down walls and caved in ceilings - the singed marks and black spots from fires or laser blasts. Not to mention the odd way half the buildings collapsed in on themselves... Will's face lit up.
"Now you're thinking like an Unofficial Consulting Detective. What would be the best view to see how the buildings collapsed?"
"Areal view,"
Will pulled up the areal view of each building. Some were significantly damaged beyond the possibility of gathering any more information. The Major groaned in annoyance and pushed himself back in the chair. All the same, he looked over each image with an intense gaze. What was he overlooking?
"I need you here, Ace," Will complained.
"Honestly, Will. You'd think you're blind! There is more to see,"
"But what?"
"You have thermal cameras, don't you?"
"Well, yes -"
"Then inevitably they would have been utilized, wouldn't they? Wouldn't it be the N.E.S.T. base's purpose to gather any and all information to do with extraterrestrial events?"
"Thermal areal view... but what would that show me?"
"What does the term 'thermal' imply?"
Will rolled his eyes. That was something Ace would say, that's for sure. Will typed furiously, yet somehow it wasn't fast enough. He bit his lip again. He could imagine Ace commenting on his nervous tick. She knew everything. It was extraordinary to bear witness when she went through those pockets of time in which she wasn't really thinking, but just thinking. The Major sighed as he waited for the thermal images to come onto the screen. The loading bar across the bottom of the screen slowly crept up to be completed. Will's foot started to twitch as he bounced his knee up and down.
The images popped up one after another in their reds, yellows, whites, and oranges. As they popped up, Will's eyes grew wider and wider. His pupils dilated and his heartbeat shot sky-high. He pushed himself away from the computer and jumped out of the seat. He ran to the edge of the catwalk and shouted over the ledge to Bumblebee.
"Get Optimus and Ace back here, ASAP!"
"I missed you, you know," Azrael said softly. She looked down at her pale hands, checking over every scar and callous. "I wish you didn't have to... I wish you could be yourself without having to hide."
"I do not mind, Azrael,"
"But I do,"
She turned her azure eyes onto the fiery glow of the late phoenix sun slipping into ashes. Burning tones of crimson and ruby reds dashed across the sky madly. In between the clashing reds were fluid lines of golden fire painted among the flaming skies. The torch of the day, fruitful with light and activities of conventional human standers, was finally ready to become one with the dust of the early night rising. But these human activities were scarcely the equivalent of what Azrael truly desired to do with her lover, and that was what was happening presently; watching the day come to an end with the proper body of her lover.
"I don't want you to be forced into a domestic life when you are intended to save the world," Azrael whispered.
She leaned against Optimus' neck plates. Finally, after so long without him, she was able to enjoy the company of her lover without him having to be confined to a haloform.
"You're a Prime, a powerful being that defends Earth with everything you have. The last thing I want is for you to be held back by my human needs," she finished.
"Your 'human needs' are my pleasure," Optimus soothed. It was revealing to hear his rumbling baritone voice again. "There is something I do not believe you understand, Azrael. Your every need or want is my greatest desire to fulfill."
"I understand that, Optimus. But... I can't explain it. Being taken care of is incredible - you have no idea how incredibly loved I've felt with you. However, there are times when I feel as if I am a burden to take care of. I can be fastidious and suborn. I'll be the first to admit it. I just can't help but think I am a weakness to you."
Optimus rumbled with disagreement. He lifted his servo up to his shoulder. Azrael slipped off of his shoulder and into his servo, rolling into his palm and leaning against one of his digits. Optimus brought her closer to optic level.
"You are no weakness to me, Azrael Echolyn. You are my ultimate strength; the very reason I have made it thus far into this war," Optimus stated firmly. Azrael sighed softly as she stroked her fingers against the metal plating of his servo.
"I don't think I ever told you this... but when I was younger, with my father, I would look into the mirror a lot. Do you know why?"
The Prime shook his helm slowly. He didn't understand many of Azrael's habits until they were explained, and even then... there was inevitably that looming anger as to why she developed the habit to begin with. Azrael sat up. She motioned for Optimus to bring her closer to him. He brought her up to be perfectly level with his faceplates. She leaned over to the edge of his servo. Her pale hand gently rested under his glowing blue optic.
"Every time I looked myself in the eye, I saw you staring back,"
Azrael placed a light kiss against his metal cheek. She still couldn't get over how warm the metal was.
"I love you, Orion,"
"I love you, Azrael,"
The young Doctor smiled warmly. The sun had set by then, but despite the torch of daylight having been put out, Azrael felt as if the day was far from over. She couldn't explain it. An unnerved, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Optimus had long grown silent, but that was typical. He had a habit of enjoying the silence with Azrael. She tried bathing in the silence as he did, finding the joy he did in nothing but the company. In the past, Azrael had been able to do just that. Now, she couldn't stop the worry seeping into her previously calm demeanor.
"Optimus, something's wrong. Something doesn't feel right," she said suddenly as the sudden quiver in her stomach intensified.
"You have noticed as well," he said softly. "I have had my concerns since the sunset."
"Maybe we should call?" Azrael suggested. "It couldn't hurt, could it? Just checking in?"
"No, there would be no harm," Optimus agreed. He looked up at the dark sky. Azrael felt a sudden buzzing behind her ear, signaling that Optimus was engaging a commlink.
.:Optimus to Ironhide:.
.:I read you, Optimus:.
.:What is the status on base?:.
.:Primus, you have good timing. Lennox needs you and the Director back now:.
.:What has happened, Ironhide?:.
.:It's him, Optimus. He's back:.
The Prime felt fear strike his spark the moment he heard. What did this mean for Azrael? What would happen to his beloved? What would she suffer while Optimus ran back into a war? His optics dimmed to the point they were nearly off. He could feel Azrael's eyes trained on him. She remained silent, only her delicate hand gently running along the sensory nodes of his servo.
.:We will be there by morning:.
.:There's more, Optimus:.
Azrael watched the joy that was once sparked in her lover's optics fade away the longer he was connected to the commlink. She could feel her optimism draining away as the happiness Optimus had. She waited with anticipation buzzing on her skin. Finally, the buzzing behind her ear ceased and Optimus looked down at her. The expression on his faceplates was eerily unreadable, something that had never happened to Azrael. But she could feel his building emotions. Call it a sixth sense, call it insanity, call it love - Azrael knew her lover was in distress as he stared down at her with dimmed optics.
Optimus' optics were never dim.
Never.
"We have to return, don't we?"
"Yes," his grave voice caught Azrael by surprise. She had heard his voice in many different tones, but none quite so painful or raw. She wished she could do something for him - anything to comfort him.
Azrael hated being a human, she hated it deeply with a burning passion. Had she been a Cybertronian, had she been created to be compatible with Optimus, then she could do more than sit in the palm of his hand. If there was once Azrael hated more than her father, it was being useless; the very thing she felt.
"We must leave now," the Prime declared.
He brought Azrael to his chassis as the hydraulics and fuel lines went into their places while Optimus took his Peterbilt form. Azrael was left on the floor of the cabin to which she quickly climbed out of and settled into the passenger seat. Her own eyes had hardened as she stared at the road ahead. There had been so much more she wanted to show Optimus - things about herself that she couldn't put into words but needed to be said. Rather than complaining, however, Azrael did something she had known how to do her entire life; a skill she had developed when hiding from her father.
She remained silent.