Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

Co-written by Mein Benutzername and A Humble Reader

Beta and Advisor: icanhascamaro

Note: Welcome back, dear readers. If you haven't already checked, there are now links up on our profile with images of the city in which Sam lives, along with information on the story in general, such as plot devices, universe rules, and what characters will and won't be involved in this story. Feel free to check it out, unless you'd rather not.

Then just read, I suppose.

Please enjoy the story, and leave a review if you deem us worthy.

Words: 7231

Pages: 24

Chapter 4

Re-evaluation

In which the nightmare is evidently not quite over yet and one is given the unfortunate job of taking it all in stride.

It'd been approximately one month since Sam had suffered through a highly traumatizing near death experience, insufferable government processes to ensure the secrecy of said traumatizing event, and a love-struck and subsequently heartbroken mother.

She did not know how much more she could take. How much more her head could take.

Admittedly, Sam thought it was sweet her mom had found somebody she liked a lot, that somebody being the "rich foreigner" that was actually working for the super-top-secret government agency Sam hadnever caught the name of, but part of her wondered if it was just an act to make sure her mom didn't get suspicious.

And of course, the one time she wanted to be completely and utterly wrong about something, she just had to hit the nail on the head. After her mom had been unofficially seeing the guy for about a week and a half, he up and left, and in the process managed to effectively friend-zone her mother.

It was kinda sad to watch really, because Sam had a feeling her mom was really into the guy, and it wasn't just the (possibly fake) accent or the (government) money. So she was left to deal with her Mom moping around the house when she was home and spending more time than usual at work.

Honestly, she had never paid it much mind, but she'd been through the process before. It wasn't like her mom had ever sworn off love after her dad did...whatever. (Left? Died? Joined the circus? She didn't really care.) She had just never thought about her momactually going out on a date. (Normally she just ignored it and didn't really dwell. But actually picturing her mom dressed up and out at dinner with somebody for something other than business? Hilarious.)

And, just like after every failed attempt at romance, there was the low period, during which she threw a small pity party for one and spent a lot of hours at work.

(Penelope had a running bet/theory that people at her workplace would eventually start trying to set her up with crappy guys so she would fall into the low period and get more work done, as if she didn't do enough already.)

Normally it lasted a few days. But it'd been longer than a few days, and her mom was still ignoring the chores (and her) in favor of throwing herself into her work.

Sam decided that she officially hated coping mechanisms. They were practically useless.

So, left alone once again with nothing to do but slump around her house and play with Sweetie if she was feeling a little too lonely, Sam wasn't really having a nice day. Mostly, it was boring. Frustrating to an extent, because the milk went bad and Sweetie pooped in the hall again, but mostly boring.

Boring boring boring.

Too much time to think.

Think about those things.

Like that god damn ball.

Sam sighed as she felt her train of thought subtly shift from how bored she was to that again.

"I'm so tired of this..." She muttered, rubbing her eyes and stumbling lamely into the living room. She had a pounding headache (most likely from how frustrated and angry she was at herself that she was going to do this, again.) and it wasn't going away. Falling listlessly onto the couch, managing to sprawl herself out across the entire thing like only a talented few could, she lazily slapped one arm over her eyes and groaned in misery.

"No no no...do not want..." Sam groaned again, but she already knew it was too late. Her mind was buzzing with the opportunity of something interesting to waste time with, even if she felt completely sick of it. Clearly, she and her brain were two separate entities.

She sighed again.

"Alright. Fine. What do we know?" She began wiggling one foot in the air, as though tapping her toes to a beat only she could hear.

"We know that it was light weight. We know that it was made of metal. Not really sure what kind though...well, it certainly wasn't aluminum foil. Oh wait. I bet it was...robotium or something. Yeah. From Cyberkon. Or something. Why are all of those words so hard to pronounce? Like...Cyber-something-ium? Ugh..." Sam shifted slightly and let her eyes wander around the room while she thought, her foot still dancing in the air. She lazily eyed Sweetie as the big Golden Retriever slowly padded into the living room with her. Sweetie Pie ambled on over to her and plopped her butt on the ground, and her head on the couch, big doggy eyes looking at her and begging for a nice pet.

Sam obliged her, stroking her dog absently. Her foot now had a rhythm to follow in the thumping of the animal's tail on the ground.

"So, some alien metal. Probably stronger than human metal. Damn, aliens get all the good shit. Laser canons, space bridges, practically living forever...no, wait, that last one would suck. Well, maybe. I'm not sure. Anyway...Metal, blah blah. Lots of lines. Panels, I guess. Since it's a transformers thing it can probably at the very least shifts or something."

Sweetie Pie closed her eyes for a nap next to her beloved person.

Sam continued petting her.

"So it transforms. Into what? That suit man said bomb. So, it could be a bomb, but how would it do that? Maybe just get cooler looking...but wasn't most of the show about getting energy? Or was that just Prime? No, it was both...so it could be an energy source. Okay. Bomb, energy source...is it like the Allspark? ...Pfft, no way. If it was, they wouldn't have let that police car take me, he would've gone after Skywarp. Yeah, okay, Allspark ruled out. Maybe it's like an attachment weapon? Oh, or an overshield, like Johnny's Halo number whatsit. Or maybe it's got the answer to the universe in it. Hm. The good guys will be pretty disappointed after they realize we figured that one out ages ago. Fourty-two-" Sam's reluctant musing was interrupted by someone ringing her doorbell. The teenager frowned, silently hoping that maybe it was her polite Hispanic friend Mary and not Anna trying to jump her again. It wasn't even close to being school time, or Halloween yet.

Groaning, Sam slowly stood up and lifted her fists above her head in a stretch, standing on her tiptoes. She felt her back pop and sighed contentedly. Shuffling over to the door only slightly more dignified than she had been earlier, she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle an oncoming yawn and opened the door.

Sam blinked.

And blinked again.

And blinked once more.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes and pinched her arm, but the balding man in the stiff suit was still standing on her doorstep with an apologetic, slightly amused smile on his face.

There was a tense silence.

Paul Blakemore gave the (now glaring) teen a more genuine smile. "Sam. How are you doing?"

"You're at my house."

"Yes, I am at your house."

"Why are you at my house."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"No offense, but I don't want to talk to you. You're nice, and I like you, but you being here equals things I don't want to think about. Which equals me being unhappy and grumpy and a pest. Which I know you don't want to deal with, so, if you'll just let me shut the door, you can be on your way and I can-"

Paul put one foot on the door to halt its progress. "You know I can't do that, Sam. Either you let me in, or we go for a ride."

Sam glanced behind him to see a military jeep with two soldiers sitting in it, chatting with each other, shooting occasional glances in their direction. She grumbled under her breath but opened the door all the way, allowing Paul inside with an unhappy frown and a hand on her hip.

Paul smiled warmly and went inside and made himself at home in one of the armchairs in the living room while she took her place back on the couch. She also picked up her huge dog and set her on her lap, hugging her and pulling her knees up. Or at least, she tried too. In reality she managed to heft the big girl off of the floor and halfway onto the couch, before her meager upper-arm strength prevented her from moving past that point. Luckily, she had the sweetest dog ever, and the Retriever climbed the rest of the way up herself, settling down in Sam's lap just like she wanted her to.

"What do you want." She asked him.

Paul pulled his right foot onto his left leg and clasped his hands together. "I've been sent by my bosses to speak to you again regarding the object you found in the crater."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Rule number one of the contracts was never to speak as though it actually happened unless I was in a secured facility where no one could intercept or eavesdrop on information, if anyone ever spoke to me about this again, which you, by the way, told me was highly unlikely."

Paul smiled. "You actually remembered that, huh? I guess saying it about seventytimes really does drill it into a person."

"Guess so."

"It's safe." He assured her. "We have an Autobot monitoring all signals in the area and jamming all devices in the house. They're also scanning for enemies and recording our conversation."

Sam shivered, despite herself, at his (supposedly reassuring) words, and mumbled, "I hope you know that's really probably the least comforting thing I've ever heard in my life."

Paul chuckled and he suddenly didn't seem quite as friendly as when Sam had seen him last. Part of her knew it was probably because this was apparently official, and being recorded, but she still had to wonder if maybe that was all just a lie, to make her comfortable.

"Well, the more you know." He joked. "Speaking of knowing things, Sam...about the item, at the crash site."

Sam shifted in her huddle of limbs and dog, and attempted to pull further into herself. "Yeah? What about it?" She looked away from him and studied the living room as though she hadn't been seeing it every day of her life. Why did everything always seem to swing back around to that stupid ball?

"You told us that you picked up the sphere and shook it, and after that you held onto it rather than let go and allow the Level 7 Mech-"

"It was Skywarp."

Paul halted in his speech, looking at her, and seemingly a little surprised. She stared back evenly before averting her eyes again. "Excuse me?"

"It was Skywarp." She repeated. "What, you guys thought I wouldn't figure that out? It's kind of hard not to when my friend is a diehard for Transformers stuff." Sam tucked her face into Sweetie's fur while the dog remained complacently in her lap. Sam was glaring at him again. "Haven't you been at least like, monitoring my computer or something? Or my conversations? That seems like very government-y thing to do."

Paul recovered himself and shrugged. "I won't say anything as far as monitoring goes, but honestly most civilians who witness the Cybertronians want nothing to do with it afterwards. They'd much prefer to pretend it never happened."

Sam shifted again, slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I was a little curious."

Paul studied her with an expression she couldn't quite identify. "Before we continue, may I ask what makes you think it was Skywarp?"

Sam scoffed. "Are you kidding me? From what Anna's told me, if it was anyone but Skywarp I'd be dead. Starscream would've gone on about how I was such a disgusting pest or something, and then promptly wasted way too much energy on killing me. And if it was Thundercrcker?" She outright laughed. "Don't even get me started on that piece of work. He woulda killed me as a mercy, sparing me the pain of having to live as a human any longer. And besides, Starscream and Thundercracker have totally different...different..." Sam frowned. It was on the tip of her tongue. She just knew it.

It was so hard to describe. They were just different. She knew that it was Skywarp. No way it was anybody else!

It was probably the hours of merciless Transformers-Teaching done by Anna Hopkins getting to her. That girl...

"Different...what?" Paul asked her, now frowning himself. He had uncrossed his legs and was leaning forwards, almost expectantly.

Sam shrugged, even though she was still vaguely unsure of what she was originally going to say. "Different colors! Actually, I don't even know if what I think I know is right, because to Anna it's all sunshine and rainbows, and Wikipedia is ruthless." She shrugged again.

Paul smiled and sighed, rubbing his temple, and leaning back in his seat. "I always get so off track talking to you, Sam. Listen, my superiors want to know if you noticed anything odd about the sphere. Besides the rattling and the general appearance, was there anything else? Anything at all that you could give us?"

Sam shrugged. "Why do you ask?" She gave Sweetie a firm pat before shooing her out of the room. Once the dog was out of her lap, she leaned back and crossed her arms.

Paul narrowed his eyes at her. "Because the object was a very dangerous device that is now in the hands of the enemy, Sam. You were the first one to come into contact with it after it crashed. Our sources believe it was damaged. It could be radioactive, or perhaps the materials inside it, or what it was made out of, is deadly to humans. Your life could be in danger."

For a moment, just one moment, Sam stopped breathing.

"Oh." She swallowed. "That's...oh."

Paul smiled at her sympathetically. Suddenly, her senses returned to her.

Sam's thoughts went into hyper drive as she slowly began clicking pieces together in her brain.

One month. Almost exactly. Probably not coincidence.

Radiation. Advanced robots. Probably not. Right? Because, well, come on. Wasn't their first priority to keep humans they were involved with from getting hurt or something? Or...was that propaganda? Moving on...

Metal, dangerous to humans? Well, okay, she could see that one being possible (because aliens)...but...wouldn't they have checked for this stuff already on her first time through? Honestly, she was about to be pretty disappointed in the government's secret alien society if they didn't check for this kind of stuff as standard procedure.

Okay. So, Paul was lying to her then? Sam, for some reason, felt a little betrayed at that. She had liked Paul, dammit.

The girl shoved her bitterness aside and continued unwinding this...problem in her mind while she listened to the man speak. Her arms remained crossed and she did her best to look bored.

"Yes. Now then, I'd like to know if you've been feeling any different since you came into contact with the item. Perhaps clumsiness, a loss of balance, headaches, stiffness. Anything?"

She was so not confirming any of this. (So what if she had a huge migraine right now? And so what if she had some other headaches recently? It was probably all Anna's fault anyway.) Movie Rule #1, never reveal the truth to shady government agencies.

Feeling like slapping herself for that particular thought, Sam decided to stop drinking soda before eating anything else.

"No. Nothing. I've been totally fine, and quite happy, being completely normal and uninvolved in your alien tv show poop stuff. Hint hint, please leave. I seriously can't help you."

Paul sighed and shifted in his seat, and began rubbing his temple again. "Alright, you've had no side effects. Is there anything else you remember about the sphere? A specific pattern, color, texture? Anything?"

Sam, despite herself, snorted a little. "Yes. It was silver, and smooth, and it had Cyber-whatsit on the ring in the middle. Oh wait, isn't that what I already told you? It is!" She was being a brat. At this point she just wanted him to leave, soon.

"Sam-"

"Paul."

"Samantha."

It was at this point that Sam felt she was awfully close to crossing the line. It was actually pretty disturbing how similar this was to how arguments with her mom usually went. Katherine would stay calm for the most part, Sam would grow increasingly annoyed and get snarky, and then she'd get about half an inch away from pushing her mom over the edge. Sam felt like she now knew for sure that Paul had kids.

"Listen to me." His tone was more serious, and demanding now, and Sam got smart and kept her mouth shut. "This is not just some joke. You are the only source of information on this possible, probably highly dangerous alien weapon. We need all of the information you can give us. Even if you think it's something totally and utterly insignificant. I have been sent here, by the government, and this is something you need to take seriously, and not like some game."

Sam swallowed nervously and nodded.

Paul pulled out a cellphone and looked at something, and sighed again.

"Sam, you're going to have to come with me."

She fidgeted nervously in the back seat of the jeep. Her fingers danced and twitched awkwardly on her legs, expressing just how anxious she was. But, in between her tiny dance, there was the occasional rapid-fire tapping that revealed the hidden anger and frustration at her situation, lying just beneath the surface.

Hadn't she literally just been through this? Just been dragged through so much stuff that when she got home she was too relieved for words because for a little bit she actually thought she might never see it again?

Well, okay, maybe that wasn't entirely true. Honestly, that thought hadn't crossed her mind even once. Sam grumbled internally and shifted in her seat, moving one hand from her lap to cup her cheek and leaning her elbow on the windowsill. She had been a little preoccupied with the Transformer-Giant-Robot part of it, but it definitely made it more dramatic to think back on it that way.

She was on the right side of the jeep, and next to her was a stiff, seemingly emotionless military dude. Honestly, she was kinda afraid to try and talk to him, or even Paul. She was nervous, Paul was serious, and the solider-boy has his hands on him gun. (And Sam did not particularly like guns.)

Sam stifled an exasperated sigh, but a yawn escaped instead. Resisting the urge to glance at the other occupants of the vehicle to see if maybe they glanced at her, Sam continued to stare determinedly out the window.

And then her most favorite government worker, in just, oh, this history of the whole freaking universe decided that no, he wasn't going to let her stare out the window and pretend she was anywhere else.

"Sam-"

"Please don't talk to me. I'm kinda busy just wallowing in misery back here. I wouldn't want to infect you with it, or something."

Any amount of maturity she had acquired when Paul got all serious in the house had evaporated the moment he said she'd have to come with him.

Because in reality, what he was really saying was 'Alright, looks like I've wasted enough time for the both of us, I can tell you that you're basically being kidnapped now, as that was actually the whole purpose of my visit.'

God damn government pieces of shit.

"Sam, it was necessary. We couldn't just let someone with such sensitive information be out there for anyone to try and take advantage of." Paul glanced at her from his seat, having to twist back awkwardly to do it. She shot him a glare and returned to her window while he just shook his head. Paul faced the front again.

"Sensitive...sensitive nonexistent information...freaking...government bastards..." Sam began muttering incoherently under her breath, only a few of her words intelligible, though they were still too quiet for the others to hear. She was totally fed up with this. She had already told them literally everything that she knew about it. Everything! She had been spitefully specific in that report or confession or whatever they had her write down. It had been multiple pages. Which was honestly more than she could say for any of her in-class essays. (Short but awesome, they had always been A's. Well, mostly.)

"Sam?"

"..."

"Alright. I'll assume you're listening, then." (Definitely had kids.) "In roughly an hour, you'll be blindfolded for security reasons. Do you understand?"

"..."

"Sam, unless you answer me with a 'yes' in roughly the next five seconds, I will not be able to report that you've been cooperating, and things will become significantly less easy for the both of us."

"...Yes. I understand your stupid rules."

"Good. Now then, do you want to know what's going to happen when we arrive?"

"..."

"I can see you're interested. When we arrive, your purse will once again be taken and searched-"

"Why did you even have me take that anyway?" Sam interrupted. She actually was kind of really really curious, but that was a secret.

"For the cover story." He responded smoothly, not missing a beat. "Your bag will be taken and searched, and you'll undergo-"

"What? Why do you need a cover story if I'm only gonna be there for, like, a few hours? I could've gone for a walk, or whatever." Sam heard Paul sigh up front and this time glared back at him when he twisted around to see her.

Paul leaned one elbow on the back of his seat, and the solider driving glanced at him, but said nothing.

"This is going to take more than just 'a few hours', Samantha-"

"Don't call me that." She snapped. Paul just smiled at her in response, and she frowned at the amusement behind it, but continued anyway. She might as well get this sorted out now. "My name is Sam. Not Samantha, or any stupid variation or off-shoot of such. Not Sammy, or Sunshine, or whatever the heck else you decide would be a good nickname, my name is Sam. Okay, Paulie?"

Paul looked at her very seriously, and nodded. "Of course, Sam, an honest mistake on my part. I was only mostly completely certain that your full name is Samantha Hope Johnson and that your friends, do, in fact, call you Sunny, Sunshine, Sammy, and variations of the same sort."

Sam scowled at him and unintentionally made some kind of weird growling, gurgling noise in the back of her throat. She coughed into her fist to cover it up, crossed her arms, scooted closer to the door, and proceeded to stare out the window (angrily.).

"Shut up."

Paul chuckled at her and the teen was pretty sure she saw the driver chuckle out of the corner of her eye with him, but she ignored them both on favor of watching them enter Bullhead City. Bullhead was the place she always wrote as "Where You Live" on those surveys they passed out at school, even if it was really in one of the mini-districts full of suburbs in their own little squares on the outskirts.

Random thoughts, go away.

"As I was saying." Paul continued, still grinning at her from his spot in the front. "This will be more than a few hours. Now, when you get there, after your purse has been taken, you'll 'suffer through' a medical examination by some of our finest personnel. And then you'll be taken to dinner, and afterwards settled in for the duration of your stay. Tomorrowyou'll probably be questioned."

Sam 'hmph'd' in response. "Okay. Sounds swell. What's the cover story, exactly?" She asked him, still refusing to look away from the window.

"Actually, this has been in the works for at least a week or two. Your mother has been planning a 'special getaway' for you with one of our agents. She'll expect you to be gone when she returns home. Your things will come in tomorrow, by the way."

Sam looked away from the window. "What?"

Paul smiled again. "I'm sure you've noticed your mother spending longer amounts of time at work?"

Sam shook her head back and forth, as though to clear it. "No. That's just what she does whenever she gets friend-zoned or whatever by somebody she likes. No way-"

"She's actually been planning a two-week long trip for you. You'll be staying at a nice camp somewhere in...where was it?...St. George, Utah." Paul scratched the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "I apologize for this. But it really is necessary."

Sam looked at him.

She closed her mouth, and blinked.

She was completely and utterly done.

"I really, really, intensely dislike secret organizations that work for the government and all of their stupid ass rules." Sam looked at the window again, but before she could allow her mind to vacate the premises, the solider she had been sitting next to finally spoke up.

"You and me both, kid."

"..."

That was it.

"My name is SAM!"

Paul laughed up in the front.

After an absolutely excruciating two and a half hour drive, plus being blind folded and hour or so before they even got there, Sam had finally given up on being angry and annoying. (Except for the ever-useful, somewhat over-used but always a classic, "Are we there yet?", of course.) Instead, by the time they arrived, she was simply resigned to her fate.

It certainly didn't help that at some point during the trip Paul mentioned the fact that she had gone over all of the agreements with him and they had singled out a clause about the government being able to take her in at any point in the future for further questioning, free of repercussions. At the time, she had been a little wary, but ended up being okay with it, because deep down she had highly doubted that she would ever see the government again.

Now she was somewhere underground, (as followed all cliché secret government agencies. Except SHIELD, of course. Avengers? Helicarrier? Anybody?) The blindfold was still on, they had taken her bag, and Paul had left her alone with random solider boy from the car to be led around like a handicrapped criminal. (She was in handcuffs. Way to make a girl feel welcome.)

After way too much walking for her tastes, Sam was taken in to what could have been either another endless hallway or a room, and was confirmed as the latter when she was sat down on a nice, uncomfortable, plastic chair.

Finally, finally, her blindfold and her handcuffs were removed. She blinked the spots out of her eyes for a few moments, and rubbed them with her palms mercilessly. Next came the rubbing of her wrists, because they weren't traditional, metal handcuffs but horrid, painful, chafing plastic-tie ones.

"Ugh. I really hate blindfolds, and handcuffs, and plastic in general..." Sam grumbled quietly. She looked up from her aching hands to see her escort just kind of loitering near the door. He wasn't even at attention or whatever, just, hands in his pockets, whistling quietly to himself.

Sam consoled herself with the thought that at least she wasn't the only hopelessly bored person here.

Glancing around her surroundings, there wasn't much to look at. It was a bland little waiting room, with plastic chairs, and an old beat up coffee table with some ratty looking magazines on it.

After debating with herself for a few minutes, Sam got up and looked at the magazines. They were all outdated, and most of them were about cars. (Ha.) She did find one semi-recent National Geographic magazine about Whales, so she grabbed that one and started leafing through the pages.

By the time anyone else came in Sam had finished the main article on whales, read another on the consequences of whaling, one on new discoveries made on the ocean floor, and was halfway through a seemingly unrelated piece about a particle accelerator in Germany and miniature black holes. (A terrifying thought.)

The man who came in was old, very old, in fact. His hair was a light, almost-white gray and thinning, and he sported a clean-cut beard. He was wearing typical doctor-ly clothes and wore a frown on his face. He looked like he could be Grandpa material, but he'd definitely be a grumpy one. Nothing in particular really stood out about him; he was average height, maaaaaybe rocking a bit of a belly (just a bit), and had an average face.

Honestly, he was just another guy working at a military facility.

Therefore, he was to be presumed evil until proven otherwise. Unless he was nice, or something.

"Samantha Johnson?" He asked, gruffly, as he approached. He held a clipboard under his arm but didn't look at it, in favor of trying to stare a hole straight through her head.

Having had time to recover and regain some attitude, (and a new knowledge of whales amongst other things) Sam glanced around the room as though looking for someone. She might have also still been a little stingy after Paul revealed her slew of abhorred nicknames in the car.

Stupid Paul.

"Samantha? I don't see anybody. Maybe you're in the wrong top secret waiting room. Wait, is there more than one? I'm not sure..."

The man scoffed and shook his head. "God Almighty." He muttered to the ceiling. "Why did I have to get one of those."

Sam shot him an offended glare. "Excuse me? I'm one of those? That's not offensive."

The man shook his head and sighed, rubbing his temples as though he could already feel the headache forming.

"Are you or are you not Samantha Hope Johnson?" The intensity and sheer amount of grouch in his gaze made her want to go huddle in a corner in utter shame, especially since she had been outdone in the stare-down department by an old man, so she did the next best thing and looked away instead.

"Yes." She muttered, studying the plain, boring room to her left. "I prefer Sam, though."

The man shook his head again and motioned for her to get up. "Yes, well, Samantha. I'd prefer not to be here right now. Seems we don't always get what we want, do we? No, we don't. Take me away from one pair of snot nosed brats and land me with another."

Sam followed behind him making faces at his back. Rude old fart. So what if she was being bratty and grumpy? He was being grumpy and rude and basically hitting the nail on the head, which wasn't helping her attitude one bit, mind you.

"Stop that."

Sam snapped her mouth shut and put her hands down. Apparently he had eyes in the back of his head. It would be wise to remember this. Sam made a mental note. (On the topic of notes, she would need her sticky notes; she'd been out for a while. Maybe if she wrote motivational phrases on them she wouldn't try to kill herself when she woke up.)

Mr. Rude-Doctor led her to a pretty normal looking check-up room. He took her weight and measured her height, and she suffered through it silently. It seemed that if she didn't talk, then he didn't either, so she kept her mouth shut. After all of that was done, along with some more unintelligible grumbling from the both of them, she was led to another room.

There, he sat her down on the cushioned examination table with that horrid crinkly (wax?) paper on it. He put his hands on his hips and scrutinized her while she glared back at him and swung her legs aimlessly.

Finally, the man shook his head and sighed. "Alright, Sam. My name is Doctor Joseph Barnes, but you'll call me Doctor Barnes. Are we clear?" His arms were crossed and he was giving her one of those stern looks, like there would be blood if she didn't do what he said. It was only a little absolutely terrifying.

Sam nodded mutely.

He nodded once himself and walked over to a cabinet in the room, and began taking out some stuff. "Do you know why you're here, Sam?"

Sam kicked her feet once more and then stopped to think. "I'm here because...Paul Blakemore is a lying bastard and I accidentally saw a giant alien robot when it tried to kill me and get a metal ball thing. And apparently I could like, Hulk out at any moment, so I guess you're testing for that now."

Doctor Barnes smirked to himself where he was cleaning a syringe. "A lying bastard, you say? I've met the man. He seems honest enough. Also, no, you will not 'Hulk out'."

Sam shuffled on her table-seat and sighed, cradling her face in her hands with her elbows on her knees. "Damn. Being able to do that sounded pretty useful. Yeah, well, anyway, he implied that the first government half-kidnapping fiasco would be the only one, when he very well knew I could easily be taken in again. Really I guess it's stupid bureaucrats or something, but still. Damn politics."

Doctor Barns held the syringe up to the light to inspect it, before making his way back over to her. He gestured for her arm, and she gave it to him.

"Well." He said conversationally as he swabbed the inside of her elbow with an alcohol wipe. "I suppose that's just the way it is. However, you are right, we're going to have to run several tests to make sure you weren't contaminated, or infected with something. I'm taking a blood sample now. This might hurt a little, so I'll count to three."

Sam nodded.

"One..." Sam hadn't tensed up in preparation yet, when apparently Doctor Barnes decided that "Count to three" REALLY meant "Count to one and then viciously impale your arm", and Sam winced.

"Hey!"

Doctor Barnes chuckled and quickly finished drawing the blood. "It didn't hurt as much as you expected it would, did it?" He moved away to go and store her blood somewhere...yuck. But...

"Well...no..." She admitted, rubbing the tender spot. "But that was mean."

The man just chuckled and gave her a Transformers band aid. (Oh well, these guys were just hilarious.)

"When you tense up your arm in preparation like that, it usually ends up hurting more. It was simpler to do it when you didn't expect it."

"Oh."

After he took her blood, he did the usual things that got done at Doctor's offices and stuff. You know, check the reflexes, look in the eyes and ears, check the throat. She also had to pee in a cup, something she always hated, so she made a big fuss to him about that. (Not that he took any heed of it. In fact, he told her that if she didn't get in that bathroom and stop complaining and produce some liquids within the next ten seconds, he would come in there with her. Needless to say the man got his pee after that.)

Apparently, this was all just the easy stuff.

"Now then." Doctor Barnes said after the 'pee fiasco.' "You're going to have to go through a simplistic X-Ray, an MRI, and a PET scan. This is a basic X-ray, so it will have no adverse effects on your health. The MRI is completely safe, and there are very few side-effects to a PET, and they're rare, at best. There will be one other scan, to preform, as well. This is to see if we can find anything foreign in your system, or if the object has done anything to you. However, we can't exactly do everything today. You'll come back periodically over the weeks you spend here." Sam nodded.

He removed some kind of PDA from his pocket and motioned for her to follow him to some other part of the medical wing of the super-top secret underground facility, tapping at the screen and muttering relentlessly. He walked at a brisk pace ahead of her, and she shuffled on along behind him. Part of her wondered how somebody who looked so old and acted so crotchety could move so fast.

It was about an hour later when she was finally deemed as completely "done" with her medical over-examination. They had only done the X-ray, but he had to explain how the machine worked to her as a requirement, and then do the procedure, and then make sure all of the images were clear. Doctor Barnes shook her hand and goodbye...in his own special way.

"Don't make me come and do this again." He near-scolded her. Sam just shrugged and let his hand drop.

"I didn't make you come do it." She muttered. He just started walking away. "It's not my fault Skywarp decided to land practically on top of me..."

He stopped for a moment and glanced back at her. "Yes, well...be more aware, then."

Sam shrugged and wandered over to one of the chairs in the waiting room, where she had been left once again.

She sat for a while longer, and finished reading her National Geographic magazine from before, when another solider dude came in. He was just another face, really, though he was at least attempting to be pleasant and gave her a smile. He had a bag of McDonald's in his hand, though, and that's what Sam was really focused on.

"Oh, god, yes." She said, jumping up. "Is that for me? Is it really?" The guy just grinned a little more and offered her the bag. Sam released a tiny 'Yesssssss!' under her breath and snatched the drugs- er, the meal from him, looking through the contents.

"If you'll follow me," The most wonderful being on the planet said to her, "I'll show you to your room."

Sam nodded, already pulling out a burger and grinning wildly. It felt like she hadn't had a burger in ages. "Uh huh. Sure thing. Can do, buckaroo. Oh god, this thing had pickles, yes!"

Her escort smiled once more and started walking. Sam followed behind him, probably the happiest she had been all day. After a long frustrating conversation, a long frustrating waiting period, and a long frustrating and mildly uncomfortable medical examination, she was ecstatic to find somebody who wouldn't make her suffer through another long and frustrating experience.

Otherwise, she might have called it quits there and then.

Sam didn't complain even once about the length of the hallways or her feet hurting or the grumpy doctor and the bathroom threats that frankly freaked her out more than she cared to admit.

She had scarfed her burger and fries by the time they reached "her" room, and was just polishing off the last of the soda (which someone was thoughtful enough to provide for her, thank the Lord) when her favorite military person thus far unlocked the door, and showed her inside.

In the middle of the room was a pristinely mad bed, and honestly it looked too good to be true. She was stopped from running and jumping straight into the thing by the man behind her clearing his throat. Sam turned to face him.

"You will be locked in at night. If you need anything, there will usually be someone near the door who could help you. There's a bathroom over there-" He said and pointed to his left. "-and that's really it. Someone will retrieve you for questioning, meals, and anything else that requires you to leave this room."

Sam nodded. "Alright. Uh...thanks."

The guy grinned and nodded, before spinning around and shutting the door behind him with a firm click.

Sam was left alone in this unfamiliar room, this unfamiliar place. Suddenly the bed didn't look so comfy anymore.

She sighed and looked around for a trash can to throw her Micky D's paper mess in.

There was none.

Groaning, she merely tossed it in a corner instead, opting to glance around. On the right of the bed was a dresser for her clothes, and on the left, the bathroom. There was a TV, too, but it was really small and old, which kind of sucked, and she wondered if it even worked.

Throwing herself tiredly onto the bed, the teenager didn't even bother getting under the covers.

Rolling herself over onto her back, she curled up around herself and closed her eyes.

"Goodbye, normalcy. See you in the morning. Not."

And so she fell asleep.

Elsewhere...

"I feel sorry for this kid. Did we really have to bring her in again, sir? She did already give a pretty thorough report, especially considering the circumstances." Paul Blakemore, general PR and civilian liaison to the Autobots, questioned the being before him. He was currently conversing with none other than Optimus Prime, the esteemed leader of the Autobots, via view screen.

That's not to say the conversation was getting anywhere.

There was a sigh on the other end.

"I am afraid so, Agent Blakemore. Though I would much prefer to leave civilians especially out of our conflicts, it is a necessity." The Autobot was sounding regal and professional as always, with just enough of a hint of emotion in his voice to let Paul know he was sincere.

Frustrated, the man rubbed his forehead, at a loss. "And why is that? I mean, she's really just a kid, Optimus. She's in the teenager stage and everything, and thinks she's grown up, but she's not. She's one of the most childish, stubborn, and moody people I have ever met. I don't want to make her go through this." He gave the bot a stern look through the screen. "You know how it is here; once you get in, it's very hard to get out. That's why we have our quick policy, and the revised story for accidental encounters. But this-" Paul was interrupted when Optimus held up his hand on-screen.

"I understand your concern, Agent Blakemore. But I assure you, this is all very necessary. That is why I sent my best medic there to inspect her himself."

Paul just shook his head at Optimus' words. "I'm trusting you here, Optimus. I sincerely hope to god it isn't as bad as you think it is, and that in the end, Samantha Johnson can just go home."

There was a nod. "This is my wish, as well. I do hope I am wrong. However, Agent Blakemore, before you leave, there is another change I would appreciate you informing the Major of."

Paul cocked and eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And that would be?"

"In roughly a week's time, I'll be sending the Autobot front-liners Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to your location. It is a...precaution, so that your people, and this girl, Samantha, will be better protected; especially after Bluestreak and Prowl were dispatched to A-616007." Optimus nodded to him, and Paul responded in kind.

"Understood. Consider it done."

"Till are one, my friend."

Paul grinned. "Till all are one."

Note: Another long chapter, where seemingly very little pertaining to the plot occurs and you're wondering when things will finally pick up the pace.

Good news for you, then, because things will start to (hopefully) pick up soon.

In the meantime, there are quite a few hints throughout this chapter as too what's coming, who's involved, and maybe a few twists you just weren't expecting.

Thank you for your time, and please leave us a review if you feel up to it.

Thanks much, and please come again.