Chapter 2

Agent William Fowler waited outside the office of General Scott Mitchell, head of the Global Specialized Tactics Division, having been summoned there to speak with the man. Since his and the Autobots' arrival, he dealt with one situation after another regarding Cybertronain tech and lore. It was nice to discuss matters closer to home; such as military. He heard rumors that M.E.C.H. was looking for a comeback under a new regime. As if hunting for ancient prehistoric alien bones weren't concerning enough.

And if they were making another play to replace the current government with their own, then chances were they were going to use all the Cybertronian technology they could get their hands on. And wherever the 'Bots were concerned, Fowler had reason to be there and take over any investigation. He wondered who would be capable of taking Leland Bishop's place as head of the terrorist group. His blood still boiled at the idea that active duty military personnel might be involved in some way. They were a disgrace to the uniform and he couldn't wait to see them hang for their crimes.

What made man—and sometimes women—turn against their country, he often wondered. Sure, they had every right to disagree with the government if they didn't like the policies in place. But to actually plot to takeover and be willing to set off nuclear devices seemed impossible to him. He was all for dying for a worthy cause, but if bloodshed could be avoided, he'd settle for it in a heartbeat. He resigned to the fact that he may never know what truly motivated people to actions such as M.E.C.H's.

"Agent Fowler," a feminine voice addressed him. He looked up from his seat to find June Darby staring at him. She was dressed in short sleeve shirt and denim jeans as opposed to her usual medical attire.

"Morning, June," he greeted. "What brings you here?"

"The same as you I suppose," she said. "General Mitchell asked to speak with me."

"Why on earth would he want to do that?" to his knowledge, the General already had more than sufficient medical personnel under his command. Of course, one could never be too careful when it comes to the safety of your Division. Of course, he couldn't recognize the need to consult with Nurse Darby; skilled as she was, he was certain there were far more qualified medical personnel for the job. For a moment, he wondered about the general's personal life and if there was a "Mrs. Scott Mitchell" in the picture. He promptly shook away such thoughts when the door opened.

General Mitchell greeted them both, "I apologize for calling you both on such short notice, but I feel this is a matter of great importance." Scott Mitchell had brown hair fixed into a military buzz cut and dressed in uniform, the breasts of his suit adorned by the nametag and numerous accommodations he'd earned during his years in the Army. His face was passive save for the sharp angles no doubt gained from years on the battlefield. Word was he was fresh out of the fight and still getting used to issuing orders from the comfort of a desk. He ushered them inside, "A fourth party will be joining us shortly. In the meantime, I thought we might discuss the matter at hand."

"General," Fowler interrupted. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you it's against protocol to discuss matters of great military importance while in the presence of a civilian."

"I'm certain Nurse Darby can keep a secret," he smiled at the nurse, who blushed in response. Fowler ignored the strange sensation in his gut upon witnessing the brief exchange. "Besides, what we have to discuss today has nothing to do with anything top-secret. Rather, it concerns her son, Jackson Darby."

The smile left her as she leveled a stern gaze on the man, "What about my son?"

"As you are well aware," he spoke slowly, making sure he wasn't about to step beyond his boundaries. "several months ago, Mr. Darby was trapped in an alternate dimension alongside the Decepticon, designation: Dreadwing."

June nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat at the painful memory of when she thought her son was dead. It had been a trying time for them all during that period, particularly when the top brass was notified. He heard rumors that the President was considering shutting down Team Prime after what happened. And he was likely facing incarceration for allowing civilians near the 'Bots to begin with. Thankfully, the revelation of Jack's survival and the easing of tensions that followed put matters to rest, for the moment.

He remembered General Mitchell had a private conversation with Optimus Prime regarding something he'd refused to elaborate on at the time. Fowler could only guess the subject of their discussion was the same one as now. Admittedly he didn't know Jack—nor Miko or Raf, the other children under the protection of the Autobots—well enough. That didn't mean he wasn't at all suspicious as to why the head of a Special Forces Division was so interested in him. He was about to speak up when there came a gentle rapping on the door.

"Enter," replied Mitchell.

The door opened, revealing a tall, well-built African-American man, black hair shaved near his scalp, dark brown eyes, and a goatee. His uniform revealed him to be Army, several medals and ribbons documenting the great things he'd done in service to his country. The small patch under his nametag revealed him to an agent of the Global Specialized Tactics Division, or the GST. But that wasn't all that Fowler noticed.

Standing from his chair, he risked it, "Cedric?"

It took the man a moment to recognize him; Fowler kicked himself for having let himself go during his time as an agent. The well-muscled torso he'd spent hours working to achieve had expanded and bloated thanks to his diet. He'd been eating the proper foods but still remained heavy-set. Apparently his appearance hadn't changed that much since the next words that passed through the man's lips were, Bill?"

"I take it you two know each other?" asked Mitchell while June also looked intrigued.

"Yes, sir," replied Cedric. "Fowler and I served in the same unit some years back. I was his second-in-command until. . ."

Fowler winced at the tightening of Cedric's lips at the memory of him transferring from the Army to work for the government as an agent. Their ranger squad—Cedric included—had not taken the news well and he'd left them on less than amicable terms. The two of them hadn't seen each other since.

Sensing the tension, June stood and extended her hand in greeting, "Hello, I'm June Darby."

Cedric took her hand and shook it, responding with a soldier's tone, "Captain Cedric Ferguson, mam, it's a pleasure." Captain, thought Fowler. So Ferguson had been promoted at some point.

Fowler looked at Ferguson, "Any specific reason why the GST is interested in Jack Darby?"

"General Mitchell simply wishes for my team and I to instruct Mr. Darby in special forces tactics, the basics. Nothing dangerous, no life-threatening situations. Just a training session to determine if we should scout him out in the future."

"That's a little against protocol, isn't it?" asked June.

"I assure you, mam," Ferguson said to her. "I will personally take responsibility for any injury your son might suffer under our care. At the first sign of trouble, we will evacuate him to a safe extraction point and return him home A.S.A.P. My team and I will take care of him."

"I'm not sure."

"I know this must be hard, mam, I'm a father myself, two children. I wouldn't want my boy going into a situation like this either, but we're trained to handle whatever's thrown at us and throw something even harder back."

"I suppose I should talk with Jack about this," June stood and shook Mitchell's hand. "Thank you for coming to me first. Captain, I'm sure Bill and I would love for you to join us."

Despite the obvious tension, they agreed and left.