Perception

He was the only one who could do it.

Medics, even front line combat medics, were not expendable.

A heavy weapons specialist would be needed on the ground, since two– no three of the enemy fighters were still active.

And the scout was injured– badly. There was no way that he'd be able to stand, let alone fight.

There was only one other being who could counter this monster, however he had been delayed, protecting the people on the highway.

That left him. He was fast. He'd broken through combat lines before, taken down opponents almost twice his size before they even realized he was on his way.

Besides. It was his job to cover for the others– you didn't get to be a lieutenant without some risk, some responsibility. If he didn't do it, if he didn't take the focus of the rampage away from the streets, innocents would get hurt– and possibly die.

And the leader's words had emphasized it, burning the thought into his memory.

"We don't harm humans."

Babbling.

A foreign language being spoken. Voices rose and fell in the slow easy cadence that didn't quite match the fevered pitch. He knew the words, they were just out of reach, like the stars overhead.

Cold. As cold as the void between those stars–

"...complication..." The familiar voice was saying at a pace too fast for a human brain to process. Volumes unheard as the deafness of human ears failed him yet again. "..Break off pursuit and get your static back here."

The rest was lost, as was any response.

"Goddamnit, what the hell did you do to the kid?" The words were rising in volume. Strong indignation and outrage shining through. Epps, he identified after a moment. "You drug him, Simmons?"

"Nothing! I swear!" The slippery voice answered nervously from somewhere below. Simmons?

"Your guys shoot him?"

"There were no shots fired, sergeant" The same familiar voice spoke in the slow language, "It was a reaction, but to something else. I am not certain what, as yet."

"Stay calm, stand down." The voice came from further away. Hateful placating tones. "He was only released from the hospital a few days ago. Probably over-exerted being on the run for two days."

"That's not very encouraging," Epps muttered, "Where's Banachek? Isn't he supposed to be in charge of your little monkey-suit parade?"

"The director is occupied elsewhere."

"Does he even know you all are chasing down innocent civilians?"

"He knows that we are supposed to be tying up loose ends, yes."

"And Jace Hunt is one of those loose ends."

"Mr. Hunt is a person of interest. The rest is classified." Simmons spoke. "If you would be so kind as to ask your friend to put him down now, we can be on our way."

"I do have a name," Jace was being held, he realized. There was warm metal against his hand, under his body. Uneven, like a giant hand– hand? Robot. "But I do not believe that releasing Jace into your custody would be wise."

"And I've had enough of this classified bull." Epps snapped, "I fought for my country– my world, and against some pretty nasty things. But I didn't do that so you dimwits could randomly kidnap people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either you start talkin', or I start makin' noise."

The sound of rustling reached Jace. He wanted to tell Epps that these guys would probably not have any problem silencing someone who got in their way. Warn him that it wasn't worth it– he wasn't worth–

But he couldn't. He was still frozen, half blind, deafened.

"The energy readings, " rumbled the voice of the one holding him, "They are intriguing, are they not? Tests planned, experiments– all awaiting the subject. Just as there were for one of my kind."

They didn't want him to remember. They'd lock him up, and he'd never be able to get free, just like...

Guilty silence.

"He's just a kid who's trying to figure out who he is," Disgust dripped from Epps' voice. "And all you idiots can think of is playing your sick games in the name of science instead of helping him."

"And who is he, Mr. Epps?" Mr. Government asked with more sincerity than Jace had heard from him before, "Just some kid you picked up beside the road, no questions asked?"

"He's someone who survived." Epps growled, "Which is more'n I can say for a lot of people."

"True. And that survival is something of a miracle." the agent conceded. "However, the matter of legality was questioned. Legally– he should be coming with us."

"Self defense is understandable, and hardly a reason for arrest."

"You misunderstand. Medically speaking, Jason Hunt has a form of amnesia, brought on by major trauma. In order for him to be released, his sister had to assume guardianship. Once he fled, she was forced to admit that she could not provide adequate care. Danielle Hunt asked us to step in."

Danielle... had asked? Jace tried to stir, to deny it. She wouldn't– would she?

"Legally speaking, you are in violation, by trying to maintain custody of a ward of the state. Hasn't there been enough trouble between us, without this, Mr... hmm... Ratchet?"

"Yes." Sighed Ratchet, "However, I am still troubled. The energy readings that you have detected are the reason why I am here. We believed Barricade had homed in on the energy of a refugee, however the vehicle that was here is not one of ours. The only sentient creatures in this area are these two men. I would like to know for myself why a Decepticon would be interested in a human."

"Because he's givin' off the energy signature of one of you." Epps said suddenly, "That's what he was homing in on. He thought he was gonna catch one of you offguard, and alone."

"That would make sense." Ratchet was nodding. Jace found that he could move enough to study the face above. Familiar. Too familiar. The cool alien gaze fell upon him. "However, the question still remains. Why do you hold an energy signature that mimics ours?"