Chapter VIII: Thundercracker Attacks

Owen awoke that morning feeling like he just escaped a dog fight, his entire body ached like the time he walked home from the city library on his crutches. Twisting himself out of the awkward angle he managed to get himself into, Owen groaned with relief. He climbed out of the bed surveying his surroundings with bleary eyes. His numb ankles protested against the weight they now had to carry, Owen wigged his toes to get the feeling back in them. The sunlight illuminated his room so much it hurt, he didn't remember leaving the curtains open when he went to sleep. Stretching his arms Owen's eyes ventured toward the clock. "Only 7:40am. Lucky me," He mused lowering his arms. He slept through the rest of the evening into the next day, he felt better than he had in weeks. If his mother attempted to wake him, she obviously failed in that endeavor. Craig must've kept her busy, Owen thought with a grimace.

The 17-year-old ventured into the bathroom where he proceeded to get ready for the day ahead. When he was done he threw on some jeans and a moderately clear T-Shirt he retrieved from the floor, it was worn and old with more than a few holes in various areas, but it wasn't like anyone was going to notice. Shuffling out into the hallway Owen ignored the fits of giggles and laughter coming from his mother's bedroom, he hurried down the stairs, paying heed to his stomach's growling. Owen searched through the cabinets for a quick meal, a pack of peanut butter crackers were the closest thing available to him so he snatched them up. He pulled a prepared lunch from out of the fridge and stuffed it into his backpack. Now Owen was set for school. After casting a wayward glance toward the stairs, Owen made his way toward the front door, hoisting his backpack over one shoulder he paused as the events from yesterday came rushing back to him. Michelle had taken his keys after subsequently punishing him for napping in school. He would have to walk to school, which left him with too much time to brood over everything he allowed to bother him. Opening the door, Owen cast a regretful glance towards his Mustang, only to find the vehicle missing from the driveway. Owen's mouth went dry, his backpack strap slid off his shoulder and the bag fell to the ground with a dull thump. Owen's world was an all encompassing void of nothingness. Throwing his head back, Owen screamed his mother's name, shattering the serenity of the morning. Michelle came rushing out of the house, concerned etched across her face. Her lips parted to ask what had come over her son when she noticed the empty spot on the driveway. "What have you done with my car?" Owen proclaimed angrily. Michelle's hands clenched into fists, the boy's disrespect was becoming a frequent thing now. "I haven't done anything to your car Owen. I've been upstairs since last night with your father," Michelle answered.

"Doing what?" Owen inquired hotly, his mouth quirking. Michelle didn't miss the humor in his voice and reframed from knocking on his ass right then and there. "That's none of your business, Owen. I won't take this disrespect from you any more, I mean it!" Her tone was much harsher than usual, the boy cringed the burning fury in her eyes. "Your car's obviously been stolen, or didn't you notice that?" Michelle quipped. Owen felt the blade in his heart twisting, his face contorted with pure anguish. My Mustang has been stolen! The Mustang has been stolen! It was all the seemed to register in his mind. Leaning over, Owen grabbed up his backpack and marched down the sidewalk. If he was lucky, he would catch the bus before it left. "Owen! Owen, where are you going?" Michelle called after him. "To school, where else?" Owen replied tersely, never turning to look at her.

Michelle, however, was still at a loss. "What about your car?" She shouted. Owen shrugged trying to come off as indifferent to his mother, his teeth were aching with pain as he grinded them together in frustration. He could call the cops but the chance of their finding his car unharmed and not sitting somewhere on a bunch of cinderblocks were a slim chance to none. "I'll call the cops later!" He shouted, breaking into a run.

(Witwicky Residence):
Sam chewed on his granola bar in frustration. Bumblebee had left sometime in the night and had yet to return from his scheduled 'meeting' with the other Autobots like he promised his human charge. While Bumblebee usually had a good reason for his lateness, Sam doubted this time had anything to do with the Autobots. "Probably on another joy ride," Sam muttered sourly. He continued to stare out of the kitchen window, admiring the well manicured lawn, never taking notice of the large oil stain that resided in the center of the lawn until his father came barging through the back door, looking quite unhappy. Sam paused in mid-chew, his eyebrows raised in question. "Sam, what did I tell you about lending your car to just anybody?" Ron inquired. Sam stared blankly at his father before snapping out of his out of his self-induced stupor. "What? No, Dad, its fine, Miles is borrowing it," The lie came out of the boy's mouth without the slightest hesitation, however, Ron did not look convinced. "I called Miles, and he said that you said he could never touch the steering of your car 'as long there was breath in your body'," Ron quoted. Sam bit down on the last of his granola bar with a wince, that lie died quicker than the first one had. Unwittingly, he had used Mikaela as an excuse for his missing car just moments before she pulled up to his house, riding her new scooter.

When asked what happened to the Camaro, Mikaela told Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky that a friend of hers was borrowing it for the day and it would be returned as soon as she got a hold of her. "I called Mikaela as well, she doesn't know where it is either. Now I say again, who did you give the car too?" Ron said. Sam wracked his brain for a reasonably believable excuse to his father, that wouldn't have Ron calling his friends. His father was incredibly pissy when it came to how he handled his car, just because he happened to be paying for the insurance. His eyes wandered outside, immediately he caught sight of a young man chasing down a school bus, destined to leave him behind.

Sam took one good look at his face and recognized him immediately. "Uhh, it gave it too --- this friend of mine, his name is Owen. Owen Armstrong … and he wanted to borrow my car because his was in the shop being repaired so I let him use it. I didn't see the harm in it, he's a good guy," Sam rambled, grabbing his backpack. Ron watched with narrowed eyes as his son inched towards the back door, he had no intention of stopping him. Sam would have to come home later and then he'd deal with him and his nasty loaning habit. "Gotta go, I'm gonna be late for school!" Sam exclaimed, shutting the door behind him. "Not across the lawn! Sam!" Mr. Witwicky cried in anguish. Sam chose to ignore his father, he rushed across the lawn and onto the sidewalk after the bus.

When Owen arrived at school, his legs were numb with pain from endless running after the bus. It never stopped once for him and the run-ins with traffic were more than enough to halt his pursuit of the lumbering vehicle. Pulling his backpack strap up further on his shoulder he marched through the school yard, paying no heed to the crowd of teenagers around him. They gave him disapproving looks whenever he shoved someone out of his way, he didn't care, his mood didn't permit it. Rushing up the stairs he entered the school and found it harder to bully his way through the overcrowded hallway. Whenever he pushed they pushed back with equal force, if not harder, Owen nearly lost his balance several times.

Owen resumed a normal walking pace, careful not to push anyone out of his way until absolutely necessary, his shoulder was hurting after a brush with one of the jocks. A tap on his shoulder caused him to turn. He blinked, surprised to find Sam standing front of him. "Hey, Owen, your borrowing my car, alright?" The comment came out of nowhere, Owen nodded absentmindedly before coming to his senses. "I'm not borrowing your car. What you talking about?" He stated firmly, entering the classroom. Sam explained the situation to the taller man as he situated himself at his desk. "So, I didn't see you car, did you walk here?" Sam inquired. Owen nodded, easing his bag off his shoulders. "I got in trouble with my folks -- or my mother at least. She took driving privileges from me. And this morning I wake up to find my car is missing ---"

"Wait, your car is missing?" Sam cut him off. Owen nodded his head unable hide the displeasure on his face at the reminder of his 'stolen' car. "I think my Mom hid it or something, though she says she's been in the house since last night," Owen grumbled sitting down. Sam maintained a semi-alarmed expression on his face. To hear that Owen's car was missing brought a strange sense of satisfaction to Sam's troubled mind. Maybe Bumblebee went to meet Armstrong's AWOL robot in disguise, but that was wishful thinking on his part.

"Maybe your car went for a walk," Sam replied seriously. Owen glanced at the young man over his shoulder, a smile spread across his face the same time a fit of laughter escaped him. Owen turned his head, laughing into the palm of his hand. There was nothing funny about his far missing, yet he found himself reacting to Witwicky's comment as if it was. Swallowing some escaped saliva he regained his composure. "Shut up, Sam," He responded in a unconvincing flat tone. Sam would've frowned if he didn't hear the lingering laugh in the teen's voice.

The classroom soon became occupied with its respected students, their teacher, Mrs. Kramer, was the last person to enter the room. "Good morning class, I've graded last week's assignment, accordingly. I was very pleased to see so many of you actually paid attention to the lesson. This week, your reports ---" Mrs. Kramer's voice faded from Owen's mind, he turned his attention towards the open window. The cloudless blue sky distracted him, as their teacher went on for the next fifteen minutes about their next assignment. The Evolution of the British Empire. The entire class, or at least the dedicated students, were completely engrossed in the lecture, which brought a level of satisfaction Mrs. Kramer. That is, until she spotted Owen staring out of the window.

"Owen, I am boring you with my lecture?" She inquired. Without really realizing it, Owen nodded to the woman's question. Laughter erupted all around him, snapping out of his daydream state. His eyes shifted toward Mrs. Kramer whose face was enough to make a man die of shame. The shade of disappointment on her face reminded him of his mother before he had the accident. With a sigh Mrs. Kramer pointed a well manicured fingernail towards door, Owen felt his stomach twist in knots. "But, Mrs. Kramer I didn't mean ---"

"Owen, please leave my classroom. I'll not have my time wasted on empty-headed youths, unwilling to learn," Kramer replied, in a clipped tone. Owen gave her a look as if to inquire what she meant then glanced at one of the football jocks behind him then back to Kramer. Her finger was still pointed toward the door, unwavering in its decision. Owen grabbed his backpack up off the ground and marched out of the classroom, the door swung shut behind him with a bang satisfying enough to make the teen feel a smidge better. He had about another 15 minutes before his other class started, thus he proceeded to wander about the halls while the hall monitor was out to lunch. The journey through the hall was a slow one, he chose which paths to venture without straying too far from the one that would take him to English. He enjoyed the silence with the exception of the squeak of his sneakers against the tile. The aroma of cafeteria food wafted up from the 1st floor, sweet and sour sauce was the first smell he recognized amongst the mixture of foods, he bit his tongue in disgust. "9 minutes left before the next class," He muttered to himself.

Owen continued onward down the hall, a tune in his head. A tremor vibrated through the building, Owen paid no attention to it at first, thinking it was nothing. The second tremor was more prominent, bringing his attention to the window. Owen's backpack fell from his shoulder at the sight of the monstrous creature stomping across the school parking lot, crushing the unlucky car underfoot. The large military insignia planted on its chest, and the span of its shoulders reminded him of a Jet. The subtle movement of the metallic creature's eyes sent shivers down Owen's spine. Its head turned in his general direction and it was all the incentive Owen needed, he took off down the hall, heading for the stairs. Maybe it didn't see me--- his hopes were dashed when a hand came crashing through the spot he had been standing in.

The clawed hand destroyed what remained of the wall, its glowing red eye illuminated the dim hallway and focused on the fleeing boy. Owen rounded the corner, his feet fell from under him causing him to slide across the ground. The wall behind him was blown out, sending derbies crashing down on and around him. A chunk of concrete hit the teen on the head, Owen slumped over in a semi-conscious state. He could hear screaming all around him but his thoughts were too scattered to make anything of them.

Metal scraping against metal aroused the boy from near unconsciousness a moment too late, Owen screamed when he was pulled out the building into the building sunlight. His blurred vision wasn't so bad that he couldn't see the ground several feet below him, Owen nearly swallowed his tongue. The inhuman screech assaulted his eardrums, his ears throbbed with unimaginable pain. He screamed in pain, his vocal chords reaching a new high in decibels.

"Be quiet!" The menacing voice caused Owen's throat to close up, silencing his screams immediately. Thundercracker glowered at the human boy with his red eyes, his grip tightening only slightly. Owen trembled under its illuminated gaze, his memories taking him back to the car accident. "….," The entire situation was unreal, yet there was no denying everything he was feeling was happening. Thundercracker snarled, this time in cybertronian. Owen's mouth opened and closed in response.

"What? I don't understand?" Owen squeaked pathetically. Thundercracker shook the human angrily, Owen winced as his body was jerked around violently, his neck tensed in fear of whiplash. "Where is the Autobot, Rodimus, hiding? Tell me now!" He roared. Owen didn't get a chance to answer, a burst of hot light engulfed his vision, blinding him, his hands covered his throbbing eyes.

Thundercracker howled in pain as the fire spread across his forearm, his hand unclenched freeing Owen from her grasp. Owen's screaming went unnoticed as he plummeted to the ground, his heart leapt into his throat as the ground rushed up to greet him. He closed his eyes in the reluctant acknowledgement of his demise when something snatched him out of the air. The boy's head collided with his savior's body, he struggled to stay conscious as his world began to spin out of focus. Standing just a few feet away from Thundercracker was Hot Rod, blue optics glowing with rage. Thundercracker growled, the Autobot leapt under him, snatching the human from the jaws of death. Thundercracker charged the Autobot. Hot Rod's readied himself, with little time to react to Thundercracker's offense, Owen would be killed in his attempt to project him. Rising to his feet, he placed the boy against the fence beside his feet and braced himself.

Thundercracker barreled straight into Hot Rod knocking the Autobot off balance, he slipped his arms underneath Hot Rod's and locked them together in a grapple. Hot Rod grunted as he was hoisted far enough off the ground to destroy his balance completely. Thundercracker snarled, charging forward. Hot Rod felt panic twist flare up inside his spark when Thundercracker's thrusters fired up, adding onto the speed of the Decepticon's charge.

The Autobot fought to regain control of the situation, he dug his feet hard into the ground but he couldn't stop their acceleration. Thundercracker twirled and threw Hot Rod across the yard. Rodimus sailed through the air, his leg smashed against the side of the building tearing a piece of it away. Hot Rod rolled across the ground and crashed into the building across the street. Thundercracker's hand transformed into a plasma cannon, bringing his arm back he aimed for Hot Rod's chest and fired. Rodimus pushed himself half-way off the ground when Thundercracker's blast hit him, he howled in pain as he was thrown back onto the ground.

Rodimus fired two rounds of missiles off hoping it would hit his desired target. They did; Thundercracker cried as his left optic was put out by the heat of the blast. He leapt across the school yard, landing several inches from away Owen's hiding place. His metallic claws touched the scorched part of his face, tracing the inner edges of the blistering scar. Hot Rod pulled himself off the ground, trying his damndest to ignore numbness in his right arm joint. His attention was diverted from Thundercracker momentarily when a beige tank rolled into the school yard. Coming to a halt beside Thundercracker, the tank transformed. Dropkick towered over his fellow-Decepticon, his arms and shoulder weapons were primed and ready for attack. The hatred coming off both transformers made Hot Rod wish he were still on Cybertron. Leaning forward, he armed his shoulder and arm cannons in response. "Do your worst Decepticons!" He challenged.

(TBC)

Authors Note: Eight chapters and no reviews besides one (greatful or the response, by the way). Where's the love, guys? Reviews are Love, people. I would love to hear from ya. --- Sakura123