Transformers Galaxy Force: Thunder Storm

AN: I'll admit part of the reason this has taken so long was this chapter in particular. When I first created the character Ella Dowilch, she was envisioned as the unholy offspring of J. Jonah Jameson and Rita Skeeter. However, I could never truly portray her as an evil character, because she needed some sort of humanity in order to fit her position. She's proved true to her character in being both difficult and frustrating, though I think I've come out the better having tried to get into her head. I rewrote this chapter many times over, and I think I've finally managed to give us all a decent glimpse into her mind. While it won't change her ultimate fate, perhaps it will change the way her fate plays out.

Part 20.5: Worth It

Chapter 179

Ella Dowilch groggily slipped into her house, locking the door behind her. Today had not been her day, filled with phone calls, meetings, and even a trip to the police office for interrogation. Her lawyer had been a big help with that, but she could tell he didn't have his heart in it anymore. The investigations into Human Liberation had already lead to 261 arrests, and it didn't seem to be stopping soon. Rumor and turmoil abounded, almost like the Red Scare of the 1950's all over again. Since she had often gotten scoops from HL members during her investigation of the Cybertron Army, she was very high up on the Persons of Interest list.

Her own lawyer had made it clear that he couldn't trust her anymore, telling her flat out that neither he, nor anyone in his firm would retain her as a client if solid evidence was found linking her to the Destron Army. As it was, they had barely managed to maintain her position as an investigative journalist. The Board of Directors themselves had gotten involved, informing her that she had one chance, just one, to prove that she hadn't become as corrupt as the people she investigated.

The biggest threat to her overall being flipped on a light as she hung up her coat. Relaxing on her sofa was Daniel Simmons, the one who murdered her boss, and got away with it.

"Rough day?" he asked casually.

She glared at him, "You don't know the half of it. You need to get out now. If someone find out you're here..."

"No one knows," he interrupted. "Not unless you tell them. Are you going to tell them?"

For a while, she remained silent, before softly admitting, "No." The association going public would be the last thing she needed. It would loose her legal advise, land her in a penitentiary, and she would definitely loose her job, likely becoming unemployable for the rest of her life.

"I need a progress report," he told her. It was the same thing he told her every night, and she would give him the same answer, that there was no progress; no story; no attempt to bring out the version of the truth that he wanted her to tell. "Don't tell me nothing either. There's been plenty of time."

"'Plenty of time'?" she mocked. "Perhaps if you're sitting on your ass waiting, then yes, there has been. But the answer is still the same: You Have Nothing! Why? The cops are still calling me in every other day for questioning, my lawyer is overworked and increasingly skeptical, and to top it off, my job is on the line! I get one chance, Dark Ligerjack! ONE!" She inwardly smirked as she saw him flinch at her choice to use his Destron name, knowing that it hit home.

"You may have my life in your hands, but you risk it every time you show up," she continued. "The question you should be asking is whether or not you want your story told."

Daniel scowled at her, but Ella knew she had won the argument as he stood to leave. "Do not wait too long, least your services be no longer required," he threatened, stepping through an open portal into Fire Space.

Groaning, Ella grabbed her head and tried to massage the migraine in her brain away. She was truly in the thick of it now. She cursed herself for her blindness. In her pride, she had become the very thing she sought to destroy. She was now the corrupt one, trapped in the thick of conspiracies of her own making.

She never got any sleep that night, and her coffee was barely enough to get her going that morning. Barricading herself in her office once she got there, she forwarded all calls to her voicemail as she looked over her notes. There had to be something she could do.

Seeking inspiration, she looked up at her conspiracy wall, scattered with portraits of various Alliance officials, including Dreadlock, Galaxy Convoy, Ambassador Franklin, and others, with an image of Coby and Lori at the center. Many of the articles on the wall were hers, but there were a few written by other reporters, mostly to counter anything she wrote. It was one of her most expansive webs of string and paper, and yet it was also the worst. Once, she thought something big would fill the holes in her design. Now, she saw the reality in front of her.

It was just her imagination; her desire to manipulate the masses for her own gain. There was no web of conspiracy.

Or was there?

She blinked, suddenly noticing a new pattern emerge, this one with solid connections made by other people. She turned to her computer and began printing off images and police reports, then turning to her wall and tearing down the string. She removed most of the articles, but kept up the portraits, rearranging them. She then began adding her new printouts, tracing lines as the pattern began to emerge.

There was some sort of dark secret to the Cybertron Army. She could finally see it, but it didn't revolve around it, nor did it revolve around the two Terraformers. No. Whatever this secret was, it was bigger. It wasn't something someone was trying to hide. It was something forgotten, only to be rediscovered by the wrong person.

"Idiot!" she scolded herself, as she looked at her completed web. "Ask the wrong questions, and you'll never get the right answers." She only had one shot at this though, in more ways than one. Do it wrong, and her career was shot. Do it right, and she was literally putting her head on the chopping block. Even worse was that she might never find the answer, only open the doors for someone else, so she needed to make it count. She turned away from her wall and began writing up a list of Humans and Transformers she needed to talk to.

In the center of her wall, Master Galavatron's image glared back.