ABOUT LAST NIGHT

Samuel Witwicky was spending his Friday night busily involved at the Skywatch Atlantic Observatory, an elaborate base that expanded into the Atlantic Ocean. It was here, outside Philadelphia, that Skywatch commissioned its first project in 1943, using alien technology recovered from the sea in 1775; The American Revolution was not fought over freedom, it was a massive covert operation to claim the greatest discovery in human history, just outside Pennsylvania. That discovery was a giant ship of alien origin, and six giants buried at sea, like a lost tomb from a far off world. With America's independence secured, this massive facility was constructed under the watchful eyes of our founding fathers.

But very little remained at the Atlantic site now, beyond fragments of the ship, most of the heavy gear was shipped off to Texas years ago. That was where his father, Director Witwicky was stationed, with that "Consultant" Doctor Chip Chase. Sam wished he had more time with his family, who was back in Texas, but the raids were increasing, now every three weeks. One had occurred at the Arctic Observatory just yesterday, so Sam knew it was safe, but his father just didn't hold his opinion in such a high regard. He wanted Sam at the Atlantic site, and he simply did as he was told. Sam's father said it was comforting for the agents, but the young man felt no less agitated.

Sam looked longingly at the photo of his family; his thirteen year old son, Daniel, and his beautiful, golden haired wife Carly Witwicky. He wished to find more time, to abandon his post and run away with them, hide from whatever chaos was coming. Ignore the terrible reality of their world, that they were not alone. That there was giant transforming robots hiding amongst the unsuspecting civilians, waging some kind of war. Perhaps against humanity, perhaps they were angered that the humans had experimented on their kind, twisted them into something unrecognizable. Maybe they all deserved to die.

He scratched at the back of his neck, fiddling with his close cropped haircut. Sam loosened his tie and stood up from his desk, hoping to stretch out his legs. Then an alarm rang, and special agent Fowler burst into the room. He was a bulky black man and an acclaimed pilot.

"One of the pipes blew," Fowler explained. "Massive clog."

"Something get caught?" Sam asked.

Fowler shrugged. "You want to have a look?"

Sam nodded in affirmation, snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and chased after Fowler.

Heading to the sub level, Sam and Fowler decided it was safer to take the stairs instead of the lift. Especially in cases like this. After descended three flights of stairs, the pair arrived to witness maintenance already on site, desperately trying to brave the rushing, relentless water that pouring in from a massive hole in the pipes.

"What happened here?" Sam demanded.

"I can't explain it!" a man in a yellow hard hat yelled, spitting out water as he did so.

"Was this a rupture?"

"No, sir," the man answered, crawling away from the water. "Something broke through those pipes." Sam had just grabbed the man by the shoulder and hefted him up as he finished. This was a secure facility, access through the underwater pipes was impossible without some kind of scuba gear, and even then scanners would have picked up heat signatures. The base wasn't even alerted, this frightened Sam.

"Fowler, lock this place down."

Fowler nodded, sprinted to the level's security panel, accessed the grid after scanning his card, and initiated Observatory Lockdown.

"Get this pipe sealed," Sam ordered, then slid his gun out of its holster.

The maintenance men nodded and plowed through the water.

Sam and Fowler cocked their handguns, made certain the safety wasn't on, and peered down the dank, illuminated halls of the subbasement. The pair huddled back to back and crept carefully down the hall, before the lights flickered, died, and then the reserved power kicked in, illuminating the hall in red emergency lights that notified the crew of a downed generator.

"This is a raid," Samuel observed.

"Crap," Fowler said. "So much for a weekend at home."

"I heard that," Samuel replied dryly.

Sam wondered how the crew at the Arctic Observatory felt when the raid on their base began, slowly and deliberately rendered powerless. Every member was killed, no survivors, no security footage. The base was wiped clean, as if nothing existed. He be damned if that was going to happen to the men under his protection.

The generators were sealed on the subbasement level, so their enemy was still stalking the shadows. The two men were blocking the only way out of the sub levels, and nothing had crossed them. Descending further into the darkness, Sam and Fowler arrived at a large hallway intersection. The center path would lead them toward the main generator, but it was already shut down, the right led to the reserved generator, and if someone wanted to completely wipe the station they would have to move there. Then, the path on the left was the facility's massive networked infrastructure.

The pair reluctantly agreed to split; Fowler was creeping toward the reserved generator, while Sam took aim through the shadows and peered down the hall on the left. There was a low, rumbling growl that sent a shiver up Sam's spine, and he nervously peeked over his shoulder;

Stalking down the center path, eyes glowing a violent red, was a mechanical beast, some type of panther, at least six feet long. A purple symbol emblazoned on each shoulder. The beast had its eyes set on Fowler and lunged forward.

Sam panicked and hurled himself forward while firing blindly over his shoulder. He threw himself and Fowler forward, into the steel ground, and the beast slammed into the wall, digging its massive claws in and ripping the alloy to shreds, leaving a barely recognizable wall in its wake. The beast roared at Sam and Fowler, who had just stumbled to their feet.

"No no no no no," Sam repeated like a nerve whacked, idiotic teenager. Who behaved like that? He stammered repeatedly, pushing Fowler forward.

The pair fell into a dead sprint.

"This is going to be the shortest escape I've ever made!" Fowler shouted as he and Sam fired over their shoulders.

Sam tripped, Fowler skid on his smooth black shoes to a halt and ran back to grab Sam. But the beast was rapidly closing in.

"Go!" Sam stammered as he pulled himself up.

Fowler sprinted through the door, turned back and held out his hand.

"Close it," Sam said, stumbling to his feet.

Fowler gritted his teeth.

"Do it!" Sam said as he was running.

Fowler smashed his palm on the door's controls, and it sealed shut just as Sam reached the door. Fowler violently slammed his hand against the door; Sam was trapped with that creature on the other side.

"Activate defense protocols!" Sam yelled.

Fowler hurried to the security console on the wall and entered the protocol's activation sequence; the base roared to life, and, hopefully, emitted an emergency transmission immediately to the Hub in Texas. Fowler sighed, and then the beast's claws struck through the door, blood soaked on its nails.

"Fowler," Sam gasped. "Take care of Daniel for me."

Fowler bit his lip, and laid his hand over the holes in the wall. He heard Sam's body slump to the floor, dead.

Suddenly the beast clawed repeatedly at the door, desperately trying to break through. Fowler fell over on his back in shock, his heart beating rapidly. He scooted back against the railing of the generator, lifted his arm and aimed at the door. Anything that broke through was getting a belly full of lead.

To Be Continued...