Disclaimer: do not own Transformers.

Family Business

4: More Family Members

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone, Reggie?" asked Ron for the seventh time in the past ten minutes. Having given up looking for Sam in the neighbourhood after three hours of fruitless searching, he finally allowed Judy to call Reggie. Something wasn't quite right between Reggie and Sam…but still, the man had been close to the boy for several years. She had just called him to say that Sam was gone, and to call them if he went by his house. Reggie had interpreted that as Judy and Ron wanting his presence in their abode to help them look for Sam.

A neighbour had gone to the police station, since any calls to the Tranquility Police Department were in vain. And Ron and Judy didn't want to leave the house just in case Sam came back. Now all they could do was wait.

"Absolutely no idea, Ron," Reggie said patiently, reigning in his patronizing tone down to an almost bearable level. "He was fine when I last saw him. Got a little sick in the car lot, but…"

"Sam's not like that," Ron snapped, picking up on what Reggie was implying. "He wouldn't run because of a little thing like not getting a car."

Reggie shrugged. "I'll take a look in his room, see if there's any indication there where he might have gone." Ron just waved Reggie off, going back to his pacing as Judy, in the background, frantically called several of Sam's friends.

Reggie made his way thoughtfully upstairs. Sam had been edgy for a while now…but Reggie saw things in Sam that his parents didn't see. That kid was a deceiver, a survivor. He had a lot of his Uncle Reggie in him, and he had to admire that. That was why Reggie wasn't worrying his head off. The kid would be fine.

It was what the kid was running from that interested Reggie. Looking into the teenager's room, he saw that Ron and Judy had already torn the place up, looking for clues as to where Sam went and why he went in the first place. Ignoring the mess, Reggie carefully made his way to Sam's desk and eased himself into the chair, thinking.

The kid was a deceiver, a liar…a protector. The stuff that made up Sector Seven. Great-grandpa Archibald Simmons would be proud. Sure, he kind of sucked at it at the moment, but given a few years under Uncle Reggie's care, that kid would be the next chairman of S7.

The kid seemed really attached to his electronic devices, and casting a look around, Reggie noticed that they weren't there. Of all the things to take, he had taken his electric devices.

The Cube's output…each time its drop was followed by Sam somehow acquiring a new toy. Ron and Judy didn't notice these things, but Reggie—who some called not really right in the head, those bastards—did.

And now, with the presence of hostile NBEs confirmed, Sam decided to disappear, claiming that it was 'not safe.'

Coincidence? To any sane person, yes, it was a coincidence.

He leaned back in the chair, still thinking, when something in the waste paper basket caught his eye. Sheets of paper, hastily crammed so that they packed the bottom.

Someone didn't want someone to read something. He retrieved the papers.

Several things on those sheets of paper caught his eye:

"The other alternative is going to Uncle Reggie, but then you'd be degraded to an experiment…"

"I promised to hide you, didn't I?

"But the glasses have been used already. Sector Seven already found the Cube."

"Oh, Sammy," said Reggie disapprovingly as he skimmed over the sheets of paper, the words a testament to a conversation with something…with something not quite human, "what have you been up to?"

X x X

Sam had been wandering for three hours when the police finally caught up to him. "It's a little late for your curfew, isn't it, kid?" said the moustached police officer as he cruised the car so it moved at Sam's walking pace.

"Don't have a curfew," Sam shot back lamely, still walking. In his backpack, he felt Sparkplug's ten selves tremor. Dammit, why did I choose an open road? Sam thought. Okay, so he had a little problem with the dark, but that was beyond the point.

"Your parents have filed a missing persons report," the moustached police officer continued casually. "They're really worried about you. Why'd you run in the first place?"

Sam shrugged, still not looking at the police officer. "Got into a fight with my folks." Yes, the beauty of stereotyping. Just give them a stereotypical explanation and they'll nod and accept it.

"It's been a long night, kid. Why don't you just give us all a break and hop in? I'll take you home."

Sam, this police officer's…not real. Sparkplug said suddenly upon horrified realization. Sam stopped in his tracks, his breath coming in sharply. The police car, not having reacted quickly enough, rolled a little ahead of him before stopping.

"That's it, kid," the police officer who wasn't a police officer said soothingly. "Just get in the car…"

Sam noticed, too late, that there was something wrong with the police officer's voice. Phone static. Crud.

"You do notice…" Sam said hollowly, as he gazed at the rear of the car, tentatively starting to back away, tightening his grip on his backpack, "that your police car says 'To punish and enslave,' right?"

There was a pause on the part of the impersonator. "Oh that," he said lightly, "just an in-office joke. Newbie was too high on doughnuts and decided to give my car a makeover."

"Right."

Sam bolted.

X x X

Barricade gave a growl of frustration over the transmitter.

Lost the rabbit.

…You mean the human, 'Cade, transmitted the second member of their party, who was the only being Barricade would let call him such a nickname.

It's a metaphor, he transmitted back, exasperated.

Your comparison eludes me. What does a human have to do with a rabbit?

Stop playing with me! I swear, I will go over there and rip your logic processors apart!

Guys, play nice, transmitted the third member of their hunting party.

It's your fault I lost him in the first place, youngling. Why did you have to paint the words 'To punish and enslave' all over the rear end of my alt-form? No wonder the humans were giving me funny looks!

…You mean you didn't notice until now?

Both of you will be the cause of my untimely offline.

Are you in pursuit? transmitted the ever level-headed second member of their party.

He went through human backyards. Slaggit, I can't chase him through that. I'll definitely be seen.

Do what you do best. Track him and corner him. We will arrive and assist you shortly. He'll have to emerge from there some time.

Just don't hurt him, Barricade, the third member reminded him yet again. Barricade could only let his frustration surge through their frequencies.

X x X

Sam cut across the backyards, and eventually found himself in a construction site. He made his way across the maze of metal and machines. He couldn't hear anything approaching, so he put his backpack on the ground so that Sparkplug could come out. "Sparkplug, we are so screwed." She didn't have time to reply, and Sam didn't have the time to get the backpack open the whole way, because a dark shape surged out of nowhere and tossed Sam into a nearby vehicle.

Judging by the sickening noises that his fingers made and the pain shooting up his arm, Sam was pretty sure that he had at the very least sprained something. That, however, was the least of his worries, as he found himself staring eye-to-optic with one of Sparkplug's nightmare creatures, trapped under its large metal claw.

It was one of the uglier nightmares. Red eyes glowed viciously, spikes adorned his armour, and two rows of very sharp teeth gnashed in apparent satisfaction, and over arms were the barely distinguishable words of "POLICE."

The alien said something then, in an alien language. And yet Sam understood every bit of it—it was the same language that Sparkplug spoke to him with, in his head. Sure it was a little odd hearing it being said out loud, but that didn't dampen Sam's understanding of what the alien was saying.

"Finally," it—he—said in an exasperated tone, keeping Sam pinned to the unfortunate car underneath him. "Caught the rabbit," he said, and Sam knew that he was calling in the cavalry. Dammit.

Sam caught a bit more of what the alien was saying. It seemed to be arguing with its fellows, saying that "He did get a little banged up," and "Whatever. Just come here already. I spotted 'Cons in the vicinity."

Sam, stay still. I'm coming to get you, Sparkplug frantically. Sam had to hold back a laugh. Ten five-to-ten inch robots going up against something that was at least as large as a house. Right. He was doomed.

The alien's attention turned to him. "You are Samuel James Simmons, great-grandson of Archibald Simmons, username WeAreAlone217?" His English was even harsher sounding than his native language. He said it more like a statement rather than a question. His tone was saying: You better have been worth my time. I'm going to kill someone—probably you—if you aren't the one we're looking for. Gulp.

"Uh, yeah, I am," Sam managed to say. The claw was really restricting his airway. In the corner of his eye, he could see Sparkplug trying to claw her way out of Sam's closed backpack. "And, um, I don't know what you guys know about humans, but we do tend to like breathing," Sam said tightly from underneath the giant alien's grasp. The alien didn't say anything, but some pressure was relieved from his chest, and Sam began to breathe a little more freely.

The alien's optics narrowed, and he leaned, towering over him. "And yet…for one who claims that humans are alone in the universe…you don't seem surprised to see me. Fearful, yes, that is to be expected…and yet I see no surprise." He sounded like he was speaking more to himself than to Sam.

Crap. That's right. I'm not supposed to know that these guys exist. He was probably expecting me to be shrieking my lungs off, or asking a bazillion questions…not that I could do that with his giant claw in the way…Too late for that now. So feebly he said, "I am surprised. So are you from Japan or something?" He desperately tried to keep the alien's attention on himself rather than on the movement coming from his backpack. The alien almost gave what sounded like an amused snort. At least he had some sense of humour.

"No. I and my fellows are—" The rest of the alien's words were drowned out, however, as Sparkplug gave a shriek in Sam's head.

There's more of them here! Sam's head instinctively snapped to the right, and the alien followed whatever it was he was looking at. Another alien.

Sam's night was just getting better and better.

"Nice job, 'Cade," it—he—sneered. He even clapped, the scraping of metal against metal making Sam wince. "Now be a good 'Con and hand over the human."

The alien that currently had Sam in custody made a noise of anger, and then abruptly picked Sam up and placed him on one of the beams of the still-being-constructed building. "Stay," he said firmly before turning to face the intruder.

Yeah, right, Sam thought, determinedly not looking at his mangled fingers. They were definitely more than a little sprained.

"I told you, Bonecrusher," the alien said, in a tone that was almost bored. "I'm not a 'Con anymore." Their ensuing brawl covered for Sparkplug's movements. All ten of her transformed bodies gathered beneath Sam.

Sam. Jump, Sparkplug said. I'll catch you.

Seeing no other choice, Sam jumped. Sparkplug did catch him, her metallic fingers scratching him only the slightest. Sam, what happened to your hand?

"I don't know, and I really don't want to look at it right now. Let's go, okay?" They made their way out of the construction site amidst the clash of giants.

After Barricade had forced Bonecrusher to retreat, he was enraged to find that Sam had gone again…and how he left the high ledge that Barricade had left him on without injuries was beyond him. It was very likely that they were now tracking a very injured human.

Lost him again, he transmitted. Disappeared while I was dealing with Bonecrusher.

This child is quite troublesome, was the first words transmitted in answer.

We have to find him before the Decepticons do, transmitted the third member.

I am amazed by how you two are masters of the obvious. Barricade out.

Prowl out.

Bumblebee out.