Jamie is fourteen and waiting. It's April the fourteenth and either Sam is going to want his car within the next two or three weeks or in four months. The time gap is great but it'll save him some time if it's the former.

Over the years he's done a series of questionable things. Getting depressed over the fact that your life is going to end with no trial left him rather empty. There's no point in fearing death if it's going to happen anyway, right? So just make the most of it if you can. He's pretty sure he nearly beat Trent to the point of begging with a foldable chair at some point but that wasn't the worst thing that he did. He's also probably stolen a car and bought him and Sam fast food at an ungodly hour.

There was also his alcohol problem. Back when he was still Teresa, he had been to so many parties. Even back then, he wondered if red wine and watered down vodka could fill the void in his soul. Well, Teresa at least had restraint when it came to the well being of her body. Jamie just... doesn't. He can't really find a reason as to why he stopped caring. Except the aftertaste, but that didn't count. Wine candies were a favorite.

Could it have been his own mind telling him it didn't matter? Maybe. He's been trying to slip things like wine or champagne into his mouth at gatherings by simply faking innocence, sometimes he gets brave when his parents aren't at home. He doesn't take much- just so they wouldn't notice. And if he felt sick, he could always blame it on the medicine.

But the thing that he really couldn't understand was the January pass outs. During that month he had always passed out once or two during the day. Every year it happened after his first asthma incident. Physical exams showed no difference in health and the doctors couldn't understand what happened to him. And for some reason, they had disappeared as soon as February started. Doctors had put it as a fainting spell from the weather during the colder weather.

Yet he always felt like he forgot something during that time. Something important. Oh well, he'll blame it on the gods.

Sam's relationship with Mikaela was getting significantly better. She and her aunt visited the Witwickies many times. It helped Sam with his mess of a social skillset, Mikaela with her understanding of respect. That was good. Mikaela wasn't dating Trent so that made everything considerably easier. Miles managed to worm himself into their group somewhere along the way. They became this little group of misfits, with Sam and him picking a few things up from Mikaela in the mechanics department.

He's ending seventh grade soon enough which meant last minute tests and projects as well as finals. He tries not to stand out in school. Above average grades were good enough.

Then there's the gods. He hasn't heard from them since.

Jamie sighs as he turns in his bed. His hair started to turn shaggy and he might have to get a haircut soon, not that it was the issue. He slept in the same room as Sam, sharing a bunk bed with him. Sam took the lower bunk while he took the top one.

It was another one of those nights. He couldn't sleep one bit. Nothing really gave him any reason to. So just kept thinking about whatever that might happen in a month or four.

"James, let's see that progress."

Wait, what.

Jamie was careful not to hit the ceiling as he bolted right up. The shrill voice. The shrill voice is back and he's soooo very dead.

He calmly lied back down on the bed. His eyelids were getting heavy too fast.

'Resist the temptation.' Jamie had thought as he fought the sudden urge to get knocked unconscious. His rebellion had lasted five minutes before he gave up. 'Damn you, weak will to live. '

This time, the same darkness was there but he could actually see his body. He was still in his oversized shirt and cotton shorts, but it was better than floating in the void stark naked.

"Well you sure took your sweet time." The shrill voice scoffed. Now, Jamie knew what they wanted. They expected him to do something about the Allspark being a hangar away from Megatrons fingertips, about someone in the orbit of Jupiter or Saturn -he couldn't tell- and probably something about Quintessa. Teresa had barely managed to see the fifth movie before her death and she already disliked Quintessa. Probably because it reminded her of some middle aged republican who walked around in a store like they owned the place. That and her "relationship" with Optimus, if it could even be called that. If Quintessa really did create Optimus, then her blatant guilt tripping, manipulation and down right slapping him across the face raised some red flags Jamie doesn't want to remember.

Still, wasn't she a god? Jamie feels like this is another way of going through metaphor purgatory. So he took a deep breath and let whatever hell in his mouth loose.

"Why?! Why in the seven hells would you choose me to do this?! Do I look like I wrestle demons every morning?!"

"Watch your tone!"

"No, you watch YOUR tone! I don't know what Quintessa did to make you petty enough to make someone change the very flow of history, but I sure as hell won't be doing it!" Jamie yelled into the abyss.

"Oh?! And what gives you the right to disobey your new god?!"

"Because you won't be any better than Quintessa with that crusty attitude at this rate!" Jamie may not have had a death wish in a long time, but his death might give Sam some quality angsty characteristics and better understanding of other people's problems. Maybe. "And how the hell are you my new god? I've never been religious in my whole life!"

"You ran into the altar in the middle of a communion and started chugging the wine they had when you were nine. The average priest is an alcoholic, you have no right to say that you're not religious." Arguing with a god was very refreshing as it turned out.

"How do you know the average amount of alcohol a-!" Before Jamie could finish his sentence, his surrounding darkness turned into an incredibly bright light. So much it physically hurt.

"ENOUGH!" The voice had clearly gotten enough and wanted to get back to the point. "Anyway, as much as your blatant disrespect annoys me, arguing with you is not why I called you here. I am here to see your progress. "

"Answer my question first. Why did you bring me back from," Jamie paused. He hadn't really known where he was after he died as Teresa. " wherever I was? Why me of all people. "

The voice seemed to stay quiet for a while.

"You have legitimate and fresh knowledge of this timeline. As for "why?" you probably already know. The events of this timeline are not very favorable for both your brother and the Autobots. And since I still have some undecided business here, killing two birds with one stone would be sufficient. The first bird - to curse and haunt Quintessa with her failures, and the second bird - to avenge my children. You, Teresa, are my "stone"."

"There are people who are more suitable for this than me. People who have more detailed information, people with actual power to do something."

"That's where you're special. You're paranoid, afraid of failure and logical. Others would instantly think highly of themselves and develop a hero complex, you, however, are numbed from constant criticism and analyze the situation for your best possible outcome. You stand out like sore thumb in the ocean of souls."

"Okay, now you're just talking out of your ass. Yes, I'm scared shitless of things not going my way. Paranoid is stretching it a bit. But logical is not an adjective that describes me."

"It's because you see no reason in any of your actions. If I were to give you a mission that guarantees a positive impact on your life with its success, would you pour yourself over with work to gain a complete success?" Jamie felt his mind wandering. When was the last time he had actually cared about a project enough to gain motivation? His memory couldn't really think of anything.

"But you gave me a mission and i-"

"Because you're living like you're already dead." The voice cut through like a knife. " You think that you're powerless to do anything, so you let yourself be carried away by the flow. You lose any sense of hope simply because you feel weak."

Jamie wanted to stay silent. It's true, he had no power but there was something nagging at him. Something telling him that that's not quite it.

"Not really. I just, don't really see any point to it. Would saving lives really help anyone? Jumping into uncharted waters leads to more harm than good." Jamie spoke up. "And even so, would there really be something I could do?"

Jamie hadn't expected a chuckle.

"Child, you're talking to a god. Let that sink in."

"But if you're a god, then why can't you just get your revenge on your own?" Jamie knew what he was doing but her idea seemed to make no sense. Mess up her plan to destroy the Earth and then kill her? Couldn't the voice do that themselves?

"Well you don't see that fool Primus parading around for all mortals to see, do you? Gods need vessels. Something that could be able to hold their massive power in a physical body. Neither Primus nor I have that, but Quintessa managed to forge her own. She isn't as powerful as him, but without vessels, we're powerless to do anything to her. Unless an outside force cooperates."The voice mused. "But anyway, the beginning of this war is within a months time. "

"We need a plan. And maybe find you a vessel. " Jamie mumbled.

"Aw, you worship me already. How sweet."

"Because I don't want to stuck with your inherent sassing for a good chunk of my life." Jamie retorted. He sighed. The question of "what can I do?" was solved but another arose. What should he do?

It didn't have to be something big. But it couldn't be too small.

He could take the glasses and try to keep them with him at all times. That way when Sector Seven comes after them he could wait until the Autobots got there and immediately give them the glasses, shoot the agents in the head and be done-

Wait. Shoot them in the head? Jamie shaked his head. No that wasn't right. That option would have to go out the window instantly.

He could stop that one small robot from releasing Megatron. He could probably find it and throw it out while they were on their way to wherever the Allspark was. Hoover Dam was in South Nevada and they were in the middle of California. They would either have to go by plane or drive non stop all night. The later seemed less favorable yet...more realistic. Sam and Mikaela were taken by Sector Seven at about eleven thirty in the evening. They first drove around, got stopped by the Autobots and then the both of them were taken away and driven to Hoover Dam. Mission City, on the other hand, happened in broad daylight. So it would technically take about twelve hours since Mikaela and Sam's kidnapping to begin the operation in Mission City. So during the twelve hours of driving, he could pick - pocket his way into finding the robot and throw him out the window when they're still in California.

But the problem of him even being in the same car as them was still there. If they took two seats then there was a one in three chance that he would be in the same car as Mikaela and that wouldn't be likely since they found him using the stupid video that Sam sent to the police. Making it even more unlikely. That was a gamble on most parts.

If he, having the glasses in hand, followed Sam when he was chased by the police car Decepticon, then he could manage to meet up with the Autobots and give them the glasses before any of the hullabaloo even began. But what if the government doesn't cooperate with them? What if they see them as a threat and decide to bring the events of the fourth movie straight to the first?

Jamie rubbed his temples. He was over-analysing everything. If he kept going, he might suffer analysis paralysis. He groaned. He really didn't need that of all things.

"You sound frustrated." A deep voice commented. Primus. Right, he existed too.

"A little. Trying to think of something. I have a few ideas but I just keep thinking of more problems that come with them. I'm giving myself a headache."

"See? You're only a few minutes in and you've already got a few plans. You're logical and don't you dare talk crap about yourself again." The shrill voice told.

"Yeah, but most of the plans would only go into motion during the two days when all of this chaos starts. There's also the problem whether they'll be successful or not. We need something solid. Something that won't blow up in our faces when we already have our hands full." Jamie sighed. There had to be something he was missing. What were the objects that he needs to pay attention to? The glasses, the video, the phone, the cube-

Wait. The Allspark.

"Wait a minute. This might be something. Outrageous and stupid, but something." Jamie felt giddy. His fingers twitched and his mind was racing. "First god, weird voice god or whatever. When was-"

"Don't call me that. Ever." The shrill voice hissed.

"Okay, okay. You said we had to *minimize* the death count, right? When should be the time when the mortality rate is at it's highest in our situation?"

"It's obvious." The shrill voice scoffed. "Mission City. "

"And what if it never happened?" Then there was silence.

"Go on." Primus answered.

"Sector Seven or the glasses aren't the problem. Mission City is. How many Cybertronians and humans died there? Tons probably. So what if it never happened? How many people and allies would be alive? More than enough.

"But the whole point of the wreck of a fight in Mission City is to keep the Allspark away from Megatron, since it's less than a football field away from his reach at this point. So it's just one big dangerous game of keep away, if you look at it from a simple point of view.

"But what if the Allspark wasn't even near Megatron in the first place?" Jamie started ranting.

"Pfhahahaha! NO. You, haha, you can't possibly be thinking of-" the shrill voice laughed.

"Keeping the Allspark away from Megatron before any of the events even happen, making the operation in Mission City irrelevant and pointless? Well that's one way to put it." Jamie finished. The shrill voice was now stuck in full blown laughter. Primus seemed silent.

"Hahahaha, oh you small wild thing. You, a child, just thought of the wildest and stupendous way of avoiding the very issue!"

"You're serious, aren't you?" Primus cut in.

"Well think of it this way: if we manage to shrink it and hide it for a while, then the fight would turn into a chicken race at most. If we succeed, then we could confuse both parties and avoid any violence. The problem is actually stealing it from Hoover Dam, not what happens after. We could just wrap it up in tinfoil and run around the country for a few weeks until, well, anything calms down."

"You honestly believe that tinfoil could hide the radiation the Allspark gives out?" Primus seemed more surprised than offended. Though it did seem like Jamie was underestimating the only source of life to the Cybertronians.

"Well, if it's smaller, wouldn't the radiation range get smaller as well? If it does, it would be like walking around with a demonic microwave at most, right?"

"Oh, and how do you plan to steal it? I believe seven hundred meters of concrete and an entire eight hundred kilometers separate you from the Allspark." The shrill voice said. Jamie frowned.

"I...really don't know. It's just-"

"Just what?"

"Well, if we're doing this to stop Mission City from happening, then we need to take out the source of the problem." Jamie replied. "All the other plans I have are dependent on taking out a piece of the problem. But if the Allspark is nowhere near the Decepticons or Autobots, it would make no sense for them to fight over something that isn't even there right?"

The blinding light from before returned with vengeance. Jamie felt his eyes burn as the light continued to grow brighter and brighter, as if the source was moving closet to him. He felt something burn his cheeks, he hears a hiss, only to be gone immediately.

"Well, well, well. So this is what makes so special."

The first thing he Jamie felt the next morning was pain. Pain in his limbs and his cheeks. So when his body moved against his will, panic instantly arose. His body got up, walked to the bathroom. Then for a second, he didn't see his reflection. He saw Teresa, eyes glowing and limbs distorted. "Teresa" smiled and Jamie felt his face move. The reflection opened its mouth and so did Jamie. He saw a row of sharp teeth and thought- "I was missing a tooth when the fire broke out."

"Today is Judgment day." He felt his throat and chest squeeze as he felt his limb reaching for the inhaler. Whatever was controlling his body wasn't him. So Jamie panicked yet could not muster up any effort. "Just like the fire, huh. No power over anything. Well, you still have me. We're two side of a brand new shiny coin."

"Hey, Jamie, how long are you going to be in there!?" Sam knocked on the door. Jamie felt control return to him immediately.

"I just walked in, damn it! Wait your turn Sam!" Jamie replied. No use in yelling about what just happened. He grabbed his toothbrush and began applying the paste. The water was still running while Jamie was brushing his teeth.

Over the years, Jamie had given Sam a gentle push personality wise. And by "gentle push" he meant a sharp swerve in another direction. Jamie's sass and snark had rubbed off on him, but Sam had an actual sense of self preservation and didn't have a short temper. Their mother had called them "two sides if the same coin". If Jamie was a short fused and lethal fire cracker, Sam was a manual input bomb. One wrong word in front of either of them, and a storm of hot tea was headed their way. But there was something that his Sam still had that canon Sam did. Lack of ferocity when it came to it. Jamie was a powerhouse in comparison. He had been in fights, several, and sometimes he fought like he was possessed. He didn't have a reason to live when he fought, so Jamie put too much effort into it. Sam just didn't seem to have a reason to fight, so he put no effort into it.

"Mom's making scrambled eggs. She and dad are probably going somewhere." The code for scrambled eggs was that their mother was making something quick because they were running late or on a tight schedule. One thing came into Jamie's mind.

"Duh, it's Aunt Jennifer. She invited them to some orchestrated concert. They've had those tickets since New Year. They might go out somewhere after that too." Jamie said as he spit out a bit of toothpaste.

"When you took a swig from aunt Jennifers flask and yelled why it had buttermilk in it?" Jamie's nose scrunched as he turned towards the door. He could feel the smugness in Sam's words. That and he had added too much toothpaste. Nonetheless, he continued brushing his teeth.

"We will not speak of that."

" How did being grounded for a month feel like? "

" How did getting a concussion to your ego in front of the whole school feel like?"

"Just get out of the bathroom."

"Nah. I feel like sitting on the toilet lid for thirty minutes now." Jamie poured himself a glass of water, rinsing his teeth.

"Mojo is peeing on your herbs." Sam knocked on the door again. Jamie spat out the water. The door flung open and Jamie rapidly ran down the stairs.

"MOJO, YOU FUCKING CRACKHEAD!" Jamie shrieked, running down the hall towards the stairs. As it turned out, aggressive attachments to gardening was genetic. He managed to get himself a good chunk of the backyard and turned it into a greenhouse for basil, oregano, mint, parsley and dill.

"Sam! No cursing!" Yelled Ron from his room.

"That was Jamie." Sam said as he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Jamie! No cursing!" Jamie ignored his father, running down the stairs. Arriving at the kitchen he saw Mojo and realized.

"Sam! I can't believe you did that!" Sam used the same trick on him. Again. A soft "sorry" was heard from the other side of the house. "Why can't we have peace in this house?"

Judy was getting some plates out of a cupboard. Plasing them on the table next to the stove, she noted Jamie's bedhead and mojo peacefully lying on the sun, she walked over to him and ruffled his head.

"Morning Jamie. Let me guess, the old "Mojo is peeing on the herbs" trick?" Jamie squirmed a little under the touch.

"Yeah." Jamie sighed. "I'm going to get dressed." Jamie turned back to the stairs and yawned. He was never a morning person. Not as Teresa, not as Jamie.

"Me and your father are going to be gone for a few hours. No opening the door to strangers while we're gone." Judy yelled feom the kitchen.

"Mom, I'm not a baby. I'm more responsible than Sam." That earned Jamie a loud "hey" from the bathroom.

"Still. You don't know what could happen. Someone got kidnapped in Arizona the other week. Now go get dressed, no use in standing around in your pyjamas."

Heading up the stairs he went to the room he and Sam shared. Then he felt his bones stiffen. So that was only a break. His body began moving against his will. Hands grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans. Jamie eyed a discarded hoodie on the floor.

After getting dressed, he, it, whoever went downstairs and headed towards the dining room. Judy and Ron were already heading out, and "he" gave a small wave as "he" was nibbling his fork. Breakfast came and went and Sam had decided to hang out with Miles at noon. The house was empty.

Suddenly Jamie felt his body move towards a window. A hand grabbed a nearby chair. Next thing he knew he was breaking the living room window and whatever seemed necessary. Jamie never had the chance to let loose and just wreck shit. Not as Teresa, and not in the past fourteen years. It felt... nice. Free. Natural. A soft feeling came in bubbles from his chest. Before Jamie knew it, the feeling consumed him, leaving the chaos uncared for.

After a window, some toppled furniture and a broken glass on the floor, "he" seemed to see it as a decent mess. Jamie felt his body move.

"He" took his inhaler and a spare canister, since they always had one in case one ran out and some cash he's been saving up for a good while. "He" shoved it all into a fanny pack and shoved it into a large gym bag from the back of Jamie's closet.

"He" left at two and snuck behind the garbage cans and bushes. And soon enough "he" was out of the neighborhood.

"He" started walking. At first Jamie thought the walk was aimless until he saw the train station. Jamie knew. He knew.

Were the gods messing with him? Was this how it felt to be possessed? Did they actually take him seriously?! On taking the Allspark right out of Sector Seven in front of the god damn government?!

The ticket price was a solid fifty dollars but he had enough. He had been keeping his allowance to himself simply because he didn't know what to spend it on.

The hourly train. It was that easy. He didn't even need an ID. He could easily get on the train in Tranquility and get out in Las Vegas.

In ten minutes he was sitting on a eight hour trip and there's nothing stopping "him".

The eight hours of sleep later, he was walking past people in the city. Jamie had regained control over his body when the force had left him at the exit of the train station. Seeing as how stupidly late it was and how long it would be till the next train to Tranquility, he threw his hands up in resentful sobriety and decided to just sleep in a (hopefully) deserted park and pretend to be a hobo for the night. Going to a hotel to book a room was going to raise questions. He was a fourteen year old child with a large bag was just screaming "runaway". That and the ungodly prices.

But then he realized that he was in Las Vegas. Of all places, it had to be Las Vegas. Bar on every corner, casino in every hotel, cops on every street, drunk people being drunk was the norm. And so was illegal activity. Every shady person could be anyone from a drug dealer to an organ trafficker. Had Jamie had access to wine, he would've taken a few gulps. If the cops didn't get him first, someone else will. So he was stuck with trying to find a quiet, desolate place for the night. He was also pondering as to what the hell the force that was possessing him at the time thinking. Las Vegas in ten minutes to eleven?! Who walks around during that time day?!

Jamie sighed as he saw a cop on the opposite side of the street and quickly pulled his hood up. He ducked in a nearby alleyway and did a turn that led him off the main street. The back street was filthy, but had little to no people.

Hopefully Jamie could find a small place where he could sleep for the night. Suddenly, Jamie saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something small and blue. Turning his head, he saw nothing.

'I must be getting paranoid.' Jamie sighed. Turning back to the road, he nearly had a heart attack at what he saw. On the road was a blue blob like creature. It had four small nubs that seemed to serve as legs and two tiny triangles on the top of its head. A pudgy tail swished behind the blob. It almost seemed to imitate a small, chubby munchkin cat. The only difference being that it had no head. Just the form of a blob on legs with cat ears.

Suddenly, a big read eye popped out of the blob. Jamie took a step back. This thing was seriously creepy. Cute, but still creepy. And he'll be damned if the damn thing eats him. The cat blob stared right at him for a solid minute. Maybe it was just passing by?

"I...don't have any food if that's what you want." Jamie spoke up. The little thing's ears turned slightly to the right. Was it... tilting its head? Body? Whatever it was?

In a moment, cat jumped to the left. Before Jamie could move, it jumped back to the place it had been standing. 'Do I try to mimic it?'

Jamie held his bag tightly as he skipped a little to his left, and skipping back to the right. No response. Seeing as he nothing was progressing, Jamie turned his back and started walking the other direction.

That was a mistake. A very, very big mistake.

Jamie managed to move three feet before something grabbed his leg. Slightly stumbling, he turned to see that the pudgy tail had stretched and grabbed his ankle. Jamie stood still for a moment. Was this thing lost? Even so, who did it belong to? Was it trying to achieve something?

The tail gave a small tug in the direction Jamie had been walking.

"You want me to follow you?" The cat ears perked upwards as the blob started moving with its tiny legs. Jamie followed it, seeing as he had no other choice. The creature was sentient as turned out. "I'll take that as a yes."

A few hundred meters forward, a turn to the left, the right, the left again and Jamie was met with a pair of stairs in a wall. Either the blob was surprisingly fast or Jamie was incredibly slow. The small blob jumped down on a staircase and looked back at him.

"You want me to go down there?" The ears perked up again. He went down the stairs to see that the door he was in front of had a dog door. So the blob lived here? Or do strays just come to whatever this place was on average? Pushing the door open, the blobs tail tugged him into a grey hall with luminescent lights. After several turns and more walking, a faint hum of electronic music could be heard. The beat got louder as they walked. Another turn later and Jamie saw a metal door. This one didn't have a dog door. The music had gotten increasingly louder. This was most likely the last stop.

"This might sound stupid, but where are you taking me?" The blob turned to him. A small membrane of the blue substance went over its eye as it proceeded to move its body from left to right, lifting its feet rhythmically.

"A club? You took me to a club?" The creature stopped dancing and looked back at him. Jamie sighed. As much as this was fun, he really didn't want to spend the entire night in some shady club. "Listen, I know you can understand me and all that, but I have stuff I seriously need to take care of. Like getting back home before my parents call the police or something. If you want me to open the door, that's fine, but I'm not following you after that."

The creature did not acknowledge his words as it pulled him closer towards the door. Jamie felt the beat of the music in the floor. He pushed the door open and the blob let him go as it walked through the crevice. Pulling the door back, Jamie sighed and decided to head back. Maybe he could stay in the hall for the night and leave in the morning. His thoughts were cut short as he felt something grab his leg and fell. He groaned as he landed on his hands and elbows. Looking behind him, he saw the half of the blue blobs body, peeking from the crevice of the door. It looked unimpressed to say the least. Jamie rubbed his elbows as he turned to sit in front of the blob.

"Listen. If it's a club you want me to go to, then it's not happening. I'm fourteen, there's no way they're going to let me-" Before he could finish, the door was opened by a woman in her fourties.

"Come in. They brought you here for a reason." The woman gestured to the cat. Jamie got up and walked to the door.

What was behind the door didn't really surprise him. It seemed to be club, with a bar to the left. The crowd was moving to the rhythm of the beat.

"This is nice and all, but I'm not here to party."

"We know. The cat doesn't just bring anyone here. Follow him to the bar." The woman gestured to the cat, which was already halfway to the bar. Jamie hastily followed it. The bartender was cleaning a shot glass. Jamie realized that the chair was too high for him to reach and sit down normally, because society doesn't believe that short people who drink exist. Scaling the chair was a bit of a problem, nonetheless, he persevered. He left the bag on his lap.

"So, what's your story? Our little friend here," the bartender pointed at the cat blob which was slowly spinning in a chair next to Jamie. "just loves to bring in people with something special inside of them. And if he was willing to drag you all the way here, then you must be very special. Our little friend is incredibly lazy when he wants to be."

"Then it's had a little too much to drink. I'm nothing special, just looking for a roof to be under for the night." Jamie responded. The cat blob seemed to perk up in annoyance.

"Ah, I should elaborate." The bartender put the shot glass down and gave Jamie a rather threatening look." They bring people who have souls that aren't corresponding with their bodies. Yours is too old to be only fourteen. So, tell us a thing or two."

"Can I have some wine first?" If Jamie was going to stay here, he might as well get something out of it.

"No, you talk first."

"But I'd be more honest if I was drunk."

"You might also regret it in the morning. So tell us, why is a teenager running around the streets of Las Vegas at night?"

Jamie sighs. There is no reasoning with this bartender, it seems as this is not his first time dealing with this. This person knows he's reincarnated and has a purpose for such a thing. But why he wants to know is what makes Jamie uneasy. For all he knows, this could be a loan shark situation. They offer help, you get it and then they decide that they want the favor repayed immediately. Owing someone a favor can be risky.

"Why do you want to know so badly? For all I know, you want something from me." Jamie's words fell to a whisper. It's always like that. Everyone expects the law of equivalent exchange to be mandatory. It one receives, one must also give.

"Would you rather suffer on your own? Humans are a social species. If you're on a mission, then you might need a helping hand." The bartender put the glass down. "But help from a complete stranger is rather alarming. So this reaction is something I'm used to. So I'll start first.

"I am someone who differs from the society of humans not by race, status or power, but by the shape of their soul. Sensing the future that is mere moments away, understanding a person's true identity, no matter how many masks they wear. Human souls are a copy of the same thing, but differ in personality. There are many people like us, yet we have no name. We see life not through the glasses we are given through age, but by those we made through trial and error. Life and death.

"But the ability - no matter how weak or strong - comes with a price. Emotional, mental, physical or whatever. There is a toll no matter what. And you," the bartender pointed a finger at Jamie, "have the burden of knowledge and the responsibility that comes with it. One wrong move and a butterfly effect takes place. Now then, if you could."

Jamie was silent. He never really thought about there being other people like him. Maybe the god that brought him realized that relying on one human being was incredibly risky and decided that many had to do the job. But if this "ability" in every person like him is different, then wouldn't the reason why they were here be different too?

"I...was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I have a singular purpose, a mission to put it simply. To me, it doesn't matter if I fail or succeed. But to the world, it's a matter of life and death. Yet I still can't muster up any reason as to care for that. Maybe I'm self centered or narcissistic, but would life be of any meaning if we're going to kick the bucket either way? Only a handful can make their name heard across history, while the rest claw their way through thorns and needles, trying to find purpose."

"That is quite a negative outlook. How long has it been like that?"

"Honestly? I can't remember the last time I had an answer to the question "why?". Then again, there's no way I can find an answer now. This mission, this task - you need to be influential and powerful to accomplish it. I'm just one person with-" Before he could finish, Jamie felt his chest squeeze. A cough rippled through and more were on the way. Oh, right. Nightly dose. That happens.

Jamie hastily dug up the fanny pack and opened it, shuffling around for the inhaler. Upon finding it, he pressed it to his lips and pressed it to let the medicine enter his respiratory system. Three breaths and ten seconds later, Jamie felt significantly better.

"Asthma? That limits many things to you." The bartender didn't seem phased by the coughing fit. They've seen other people with diseases such as that. Terminal illness, severe anemia, tuberculosis. There's a lot. And many more that are constantly overlooked. "If your mission is truly that hard, then those lungs of yours will be a problem."

"Honestly, you have no idea. At least I know what it is though. Imagine having some sort of problem you can't even describe." Jamie joked bitterly.

"What do you mean?" The bartender was confused. Chronic illnesses they can understand. Something that gets in your way but you can't describe it? It's raising a suspicion they really don't want to be confirmed.

"Have you ever woken up in the morning but parts of your body hurts? Like the limbs and cheeks. It's something like your whole body is a remote controlled robot but you still feel every move. Every feeling. You panic when you take a vase and throw it against the wall, even though you clearly don't want to - something like that." The bartender looks pale. Even in the ever changing lighting, he can tell that their face lost whatever calm composure that they had. Eyes full blown, slack jawed and shoulders dropped.

"When did this happen?" Whatever this kid was experiencing, it was probably going to develop into full scale very quickly. The bartender has seen something like this once during a final stage of development and it was powerful in a way one could hardly describe. Not destructive, because it couldn't end worlds, not incredible, because it had no way of channeling any kind of power. But powerful because of the potential it had. Enough potential to gain the destructive and incredible factor that it didn't have.

And that was what made it terrifying. It had the ability to adapt and transform given the environment. It's shapeless yet it has sharp edges. If it senses impending danger, it can and will do something about it.

"Today. It's pretty much how I got here." Aaaand there it was. Which didn't just meant that this kid was in trouble, but that the bartender as well was going to be knee deep in this shit if it dragged him off to the very south of Nevada.

And drastic times called for even more drastic measures. The bartender put the washcloth down and ran into the back room. Only to run back behind the bar.

"Wait here for a minute. I am seriously too afraid to use this but-, well, agh why did you even have it? What the hell is happening?" The bartender stammered and tripped over their words. Jamie thought for a minute. He could tell the bartender whatever was on his bucket list and they could leave him alone for all they could care. But he'll have to make it as outlandish as possible.

Jamie propped his elbow on the bar, ready to look like he was spouting bullshit.

"The government is keeping an alien robot warlord and said alien robot race's ancient artifact hidden under seven football fields of concrete. And if I don't do something, that goddamn warlock is going to bust out of there in a month or so and go on a rampage in Mission City. Those two days will kill thirteen thousand people at the very least and because of some "chosen one" bullshit, I'm stuck with trying to steal something as big as the length of a mansion from one of the most guarded and secretive places in the whole world." Jamie sounded like he was drunk just by saying all that in one breath.

"You're shitting me. That sounds like something out of a conspiracy theory. A really shady one. What's this secret place?"

"Take a guess."

"Area 51?" The bartender gasped. Their fear seemed to have subsided.

"Hoover Dam. "

"Sounds like something out of a badly written movie franchise. Like the concept seems interesting and promising but it was half assed very badly. "

"You, my dear friend, have no idea how right you are." And with that, the bartender ran back into the backroom. Jamie looked back at the blob only to find an empty seat. This felt oddly like a scene from a horror movie. For all he knew, the cat could be sitting on the other chair next to him or on the table, waiting to scare him.

He was proven wrong when he saw the little thing trying to jump back up from behind the bar. Did it jump on the table and slip? Who knows. Couldn't let the thing suffer.

Jamie couldn't reach behind the bar as he was sitting, so he took his fanny pack and threw it over the table. There was a pull as weight settled on the belt and Jamie saw the blob climb up. It jumped on the table, it's feet giving out a small slap.

Jamie pulled back his fanny pack and shoved it back into his bag. He could feel the blobs eye on him. It moved closer to him. Jamie didn't mind.

Well, until it touched his hand. As cute as the cat was, the stuff it was made out of was as cold as ice. Smooth yet gelatinous. Jamie wasn't used to being touched so feeling that was startling.

He tore his hand back and looked at the cat. It was sitting there innocently, one paw slightly raised, in a way that was mocking him.

The bartender came back slightly disheveled. He had a black wine bottle in hand with no label and a thermos.

"Can the cat leave me alone? Its smug aura mocks me." Jamie pointed at the cat, who simply smacked the finger away with its tail. The bartender put the bottle on his working table and pulled out several liquors. Jamie could tell that one of them was Lemonchello, a liquor made of lemon zest, and Blue Curaçao with an alcohol value from fifteen to forty percent. Jamie now knew, he was getting hammered tonight. Hard.

The bartender proceeded to empty a good eighty percent of the wine bottle into the thermos. After that was done, he poured the rest of the contents into a mixer. The wine was thick and had a dark purple hue. Or maybe the lighting was tricking Jamie's eyes.

"Nope, Raspberry does whatever it wants. We have no power over the little thing."

"Raspberry? You named a blue cat thing Raspberry?" This night was going downhill fast. The bartender poured in the Curaçao and an Absolute Raspberry . He closed the lid on it and began shaking it.

"That's not your business. Anyway, quick question, have you ever gotten drunk?"

"Plenty. In both the previous and this life." The bartender stopped shaking the mixture and opened the lid. A small puff of strange smoke came out. This guy could either be drugging him or giving him some demon flaka dissolved in the blood of an alien. Both having bad consequences. He poured in the Lemonchello, yet only a little bit. Then again, it was beyond bitter.

"What's the heaviest drink you've ever had?"

"Vodka mixes with some fancy wine they serve in some restaurant." The bartender poured in another liquor and opened a small flask. They shaked it and small crystals fell down into the shaker. Demon flaka in alien blood it probably is, Jamie thought. Could kill him if he drank it, but maybe that's what he wanted. To just dissappear into something less than nothing. To pretend that Jamie Witwicky was just a dream that never existed.

"How did you act?"

"Absolutely batshit crazy." Jamie smirked. It was fake but that drink would either give him relief from this responsibility or the power to actually do it. The bartender put the thermos in front of Jamie and poured the mixture into a high glass. The color had changed into a gradient from clear to deep sparkly purple. He wonders if the wine they poured in was some kind of galaxy wine he's heard of.

"You expect me to drink this and maybe not die?"

"Yes, it won't kill you, just might give you the strength of twenty somethings. Put the thermos in your bag. That stuff is strong so don't drink it unless you're knee deep in trouble." Jamie grabbed the thermos and slipped it onto his bag. Now he was eyeing the tall glass liquid. "This drink is highly unpredictable, even if the main component is mixed in with other liquors. Take it with you and I'll give you a drive-"

But it was too late, for Jamie was already chugging it down like it was going to explode if he didn't. It tasted bitter but then sweet, almost too sweet.

"DRINK SLOWLY, YOU POWER HUNGRY WHORE!" Fear and worry was clear in the bartenders screech as he tried to rip the glass out of Jamie's hands. Jamie jumped off the chair and ran towards the second floor, a metaphor of the middle finger. Some of the drink got in his nose, causing him to instinctively snort and take it into his respiratory system. Boy oh boy, this was a disaster in the making and Jamie wasn't even halfway done with the drink. He had the bag in his hands and nothing was stopping him. Except for the nausea and lightheaded feeling growing in his head. He had one fourth of the drink left when he started seeing stars. Very strange stars that showed up in his view, clouding his vision in purple mist.

Jamie was halfway up the stairs before he fell and blacked out.

When Sam came back home to find the living room as a mess,the window broken and Jamie gone, he instantly called the police. Telling them the state of the room, Jamie being missing and the look of a literal robbery, the police got there as soon as they could.

The whole living room was trashed and a chair was most definitely used to break it. None of the neighbors reported anything. They didn't see anything happen. Jamie was gone, and so was the money he kept hiding. Even a part of Sam's stash was missing.

The police put the whole house on lock down. The window was broken, Jamie's fingerprints were on the chair and fingerprints of an unidentified person was everything else.

Sam just couldn't swallow the facts. They were robbed, yeah that was something. But Jamie was gone too. He never realized how codependent the both of them were. When one was threatened, the other bit back. They argued constantly but hatred was never between them. They went to the same school, had the same friends, shared the same room. Sam was pretty sure he was a huge part of Jamie's life and vice versa. But now.

Now everything just went quiet. He never realized how odd it was for them to be such big parts of each other's lives. He never thought they were this codependent.

When his parents arrived, they demanded an explanation as to why the police were there. After much yelling and cursing, the case was confirmed a robbery. But the case with Jamie was a mystery.

They couldn't tell if he was missing or not yet it could only be confirmed if he was missing for more than 24 hours. He left his phone in the house, yet his inhaler was gone. It made no sense.

Sam was a mess. And maybe in a literal sense. Panic had gone through him and was now replaced with anxiety. He couldn't say anything properly, he couldn't keep still, his mind was racing.

What if it was his fault Jamie was gone? If there had been more people, would none of this had happened? How long had this been like this?

The police officer saw just how much of a wreck he was and asked if he could stay at a friend. Thus, the call started.

"Hello, who's this?"

"Mikaela, I- Jamie, he- oh god this is all my-"

"Sam?! Is that you? Calm down, what happened to Jamie? Did he get hurt when he was drunk? If he did, I swear-" Sam's mind was blank yet his body refused to acknowledge it. He felt weak yet adrenaline was coursing through him. Jumbled words were pouring out of his mouth.

"Jamie is missing, someone broke into the house, there's signs of struggle, Mikaela this is all my fault- I, I-,"

"Sam take a deep breath. I'll call Miles, are you at your house? I'll pick you up and head to his house. Calm down."

Mikaela hung up and Sam was left with silence. The police sirens didn't help as white noise. The neighbors were confused or worried that their house might be next. His parents were still arguing with the police officer, his mom was crying. Yet all Sam felt was a rush of questions to his head. Everything seemed to slow down as the world kept going.

He and Jamie had been with each other for as long as he can remember. Yet now he was gone.

Megatron had been kept in the research facility of the planet called "Earth" for almost two decades. And he hated every nanoklick of it. They studied his body parts and reverse engineered it in so many possible ways yet they still had the most primitive technology he's seen in the past two million years. It's almost like they wanted their evolutionary progress to go on for as long as possible, just to tinker with his circuits. It grated his nerves more than enough.

Yet they just had to put him in arms reach of the Allspark. They just had to put him in arms reach yet he can't even move his damned optics. Were they mocking him? Maybe. Were they stupid? Probably. Was this absolutely infuriating? Most definitely. Did he imagine ripping the bodies of every fleshbag in the area and just genuinely destroy the place? Many times. He thought the natives were interesting at first but now he just loathed them. He couldn't wait for the day when he was going to break out of this frost.

If he even was going to break out. A few hundred years were a blink in comparison to his lifespan, yet the fleshbags had made it as agonizing and slow as possible. It was beyond boring in too many ways.

And he has yet to receive even a single signal from any other Decepticons. Even if the Allspark was on this planet, what were the chances that they were here as well? Slim most likely. The universe was wast and energy signatures as powerful as the Allspark could pop up and change the course of action of his soldiers quickly.

"Primus, if you're there, give me a sign. No matter how outrageous." He thought. If he could have at least have something different to happen in wherever the pit he was, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

His sensors picked up something. A pair of solid miles away but exceeding the norm of radiation a charge fusion cannon gives out. It's a wavelength that keeps changing and it drives Megatron up the wall. The energy it emits is something that makes his wires crawl with a cold sting.

And it's getting closer.

Suddenly, alarms began blaring. Scientists were alarmed as military personnel ran into the hanger. The doors were immediately closed shut as they began aiming their weapons towards the metal door. There was a solid fifteen minutes of preparation as well as yelling over communication devices. Things such as "what the fuck is that thing?!" and " he got his hands on what?!" could be heard within this short time and Megatron just wondered what kind of catastrophe he was missing out on.

Their weapons and clothes, slightly charred, was an indication of something putting up a fight and managing to push their line of defense back. Fear was evident on their faces. Megatron decided that, yes, this was probably going to be fun. If it's anything he loved, it's seeing sweet, sweet revenge happen before his optics. In this case, something going wrong in the plot of these fleshbags, running around.

"Crank up the ice on that thing! No matter what you do, do not let the target get to NBE-1!" One of the humans yelled. They were lowering the temperature on his prison. He couldn't feel cold but that didn't make it any more comfortable.

A small patch on the door began to heat up and spread through the entire door. So whatever was breaking into the chamber had thermal manipulation. If it was there for him, then the humans will understand what they have reckoned with. Crackling metal began to slowly melt. The color had changed from dark grey to bright orange.

Primus had either answered his prayers or was giving him some sort of divine judgment.

A small hand print smashed itself on the boiling metal. The hand was smaller than the usual humans that dealt with research. That was...odd. The temperature also increased in the area of the hand print. More hand prints slammed into the metal. Eight nails, visibly larger than the handprint, tore open the door as humans fired at them. The bullets were merely absorbed or performed ricochet on impact.

The hands were not the source but a transmitter of the radiation. The source was not far off though. The hands gave out a toxic glow as the metal boiled under it. Distortion wrapped itself up around the fingers. The energy felt so sharp yet not unpleasant. More uncomfortable to be exact. Creeping into the chamber and flooding the place with something evil. It's intentions unknown, it's potential unknown.

The metal doors bended to the hands, yet the humans proceeded to shoot. Some of them were shot themselves by the ricochet effect. Megatron snorted internally. Stupid creatures indeed. Soon enough, the gunshots subsided, one by one.

Soon enough the door was on the ground and the source was moving closer. The energy had flooded half the chamber and Megatron could see something stumbling into the hangar. Megatrons sensors picked up footsteps but much lighter than that of the humans that walked by him for so many days.

The energy source had a concentration field. It mimicked the humans form but it was smaller. Scrappier. Thinner.

Wait...

Were the humans insignificant enough to have a human sparkling ruin this operation of theirs? Megatron doesn't know if he should be angry or laughing. He almost feels ashamed of himself for letting the damn planet force the entire war to go on for Primus knows how long.

Several scientists were hiding behind panels and cars and whatever was left of the soldiers (their numbers had decreased) were falling back, cautious of the nails.

The nails jammed into the floor, blue and red substance oozing out of the cracks and expanding in length and width, taking the form of a jagged path. Tiny angles were protruding from it and growing even more and more.

Then there was clatter. And groaning. And more clatter. The soldiers relaxed but their faces had changed from fear to confusion. Suddenly, something, followed by grunting and moaning in pain, collided with the burning floor, making it hiss in the difference in temperature. If Megatron could have moved, his faceplates would be scrunched in disgust. Something that was clearly not in the best shape burst into the place, yet he was as useless as the extra people there.

"Don't waste any time! Shoot it! Now!" One of the scientists had grown a spine from the looks of it. The soldiers wasted no time to reload and take aim, despite the alarms still blaring.

Megatron knows a warrior when he sees one. Many know that. But it's seeing the difference between a warrior and a wild berserker with no leash that's important.

And the youth that jumps at the soldiers, twisting their limbs but never their head, grabbing the dropped gun and shooting their joints, is clearly something. Its touch burning through clothes and tissue like acid.

He knows those sluggish movements. When his opponents were near their end, sparks full of desperation, all manners and logical thinking go out the movement. But its movements are not desperate but rather uncaring. Almost as if a taunt. "Come, shoot me if you can. See if I care."

But what it does is different. It has all the possibilities to just rip the soldiers' heads off but it doesn't. Yes, it leaves them screaming and withering in pain but alive nonetheless. Killing them would be much quicker and more sufficient yet it doesn't. Which means it's not some mindless organism. It's plan isn't to kill, it's something else. Make an example of sorts?

Either way, it's intelligent, crafty and careless (a combination that never goes well together).

It makes quick work of the remaining souldiers with the gun and sets its eyes on him. Megatron, for a solid klik, feels hope. "Yes, yes, yes Come closer and melt me, scrapling! Give me the freedom I so rightfully deserve!"

His hope is quickly dealt with when the youth stumbled towards him and raised him the middle finger. Megatron has no knowledge of the fleshbags' culture, but by the reaction of the scientists, the gesture is supposedly vulgar.

"FUCK! Fuck you, you, you trashcan with a gun!I-" Before it can continue its outburst, it keels over and throws up an odd purple liquid. It straightened as much as it could seemingly muster up and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"I'm not here for your tin can tits, somebody else is going to do that in a month," Guaranteed Freedom! "I'm here, for that damn thing!" It pointed at the Allspark. 'Oh, oh frag no. No. No! No no no!'

If that thing is stealing the Allspark, it might as well be torture to have your goal taken right in front of you because Megatron was suffering on the inside. His rage was probably great enough to melt the ice if it were an actual physical object.

'PRIMUS YOU PIECE OF SCRAP! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!'

The nails detached themselves from the floor, letting more of the substance seep out and slammed themselves into a crooked line as a path to the Allspark. The human jumped on the first nail and proceeded to light heartedly skip towards the Allspark. On the fifth nail however, it slipped and fell flat on the floor with a slap. The human groaned and tried to stand up properly but its body clearly had none of that. Fragile things, the humans were.

Suddenly, a significantly large hand burst from the blue substance, grabbed the human and threw it straight at the Allspark. Megatron did not see the rest, but after sensing the Allsparks power leave the hangar, it was safe to say that the first thing he was going to do when he would be freed, was hunt that damn thing down.