Authors Note: There are a few story elements at play within this short chapter. The Politician and Philosopher mentioned are representations of Megatron and Optimus respectfully. When it comes time for Alicean to answer her questions, she answers the first -how do you prove your existence?- by banging on the glass. In the Buddhist religion, they teach that existence cannot be proven by any means other than that-because it is the impact that you leave behind that matters. (If I am wrong on this latter point, I would not mind correction. What I remember is from a guest Buddist speaker in an old eastern religions class from college.)
Also, the mention of Alicean asking Optimus to make her a Cybertronian is a call back to the Transformer comics waaaay back when. Buster Witwicky asked Optimus for permission to make him a suit so he could more effectively fight the Decepticons and Optimus angrily told him no.
"WOULD YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?"
It was small miracles that the question was not yet for Alicean Witwicky to answer as she stood transfixed, nerves shaking on the inside, in her sterile glass containment. She jumped badly as the distorted Voice thundered throughout the spotless chamber where nine other glass cylinder containment's were housed. Seven were empty. Two down from her left was still draining of the golden mercurial liquid. Between that container and her was a well dressed man whose suit was stained with his sweat. Alicean had taken to dubbing him the Politician in her head only because he had made it abundantly clear hours ago that it was his line of work. He had threatened the Voice with his power, and when violence had not persuaded their captors he had resorted to bargaining. The Voice was not interested in the abundance of wealth that could be gained from the Politician's safe return. That just made Alicean all the more frightened.
The Politician did not hesitate to answer the Voice and responded with an immediate, "Yes! Yes of course!"
"WHY?"
"Who wouldn't?" He laughed nervously, the nervous laugh of a man whose sanity was cracking. He gestured rudely to the glass containment to his left that had housed the last fellow the Voice had asked the same questions to and found inadequate. The other man had answered no to the question. The other man had been liquidated.
Finally Alicean moved off the glass wall, not to burn off excess nervous energy, but swipe at the cold perspiration beading down her forehead and into her eyes. Then pressed the pads of her fingertips against her closed eyes.
It was hard to fathom, but unbelievably the Decepticons had ever instilled the same level of fear out of her than the body-less Voice had. It did not want wealth. It was not afraid of the repercussions of who It had kidnapped. And the series of physiological questions it kept asking wasn't a singular tether to salvation but smoke and mirrors, at least that was Alicean's understanding of her predicament. It did not seem to matter how questions were answered at all. Everyone was found to be inadequate.
It was all just the work of a sick mind.
With that rudimentary understanding of her predicament, the cold grasping claws of depression rose up and seized her heart, weighing down both her spirit and rooting her feet to the floor. She pressed her forehead against her cool glass containment again. All around her and ahead of her, she saw the empty metallic chamber of their prison and nothing at all, more acutely aware of her reflection against the glass. A face of desperation stared back. Through it she could sense fine spider web cracking in her own sanity.
Hold it together, her inner voice whispered to herself, thin and frail and not as encouraging as she would have liked. He has to come. Her thin inner voice persisted, grasping for conviction. He always does. Just—hold it together, girl.
He's cutting it close. The dark pragmatic inner thoughts laid to waste her fledgling hope. There's only the Politician, the Philosopher, and you left. And you know he's not going to last. There was ten of us-Now there's three. Soon to be two. Look at him. Sweating worse than a pig in summer. He's going to be found inadequate and liquidated. Everyone else was.
The plane of her mind fractured and her thoughts shifted as violently as the sharp edges of a piece of glass. Oh God, their screams—Washington. It's Washington all over again!
She felt a nervous tick go off under her right eye and forced her eyes shut. It was Washington all over again, Insecticons swarming over the secluded town in the Olympic National Forest, cocooning the townsfolk up like in every Alien movie she had ever seen to be stored and eaten later, except there was no Shrapnel this time around for her to convince she was an Autobot ally and better as a hostage for proper energon than dead. There was no Shrapnel to keep her safe when the other two Insecticons-Bombshell and Kickback—leered at her from across a re-purposed storage yard. Not one of their tormentors would come forward so that she could try to reason with them. The Voice only ever boomed out from a speaker in the far wall.
How the hell had she gotten trapped in a Saw movie?
The distant babbling of the Politician penetrated the constant torrent of her landsliding thoughts. Irritation spiked sharply in her breast against the man. Against their predicament. Hers. Didn't he understand, none of the answers mattered! It should have been apparent from the prior seven.
Not. A. One.
I am going to die.
No. Hard stop. No, no, no,no NO! There has to be an answer. It doesn't matter how the questions are answered. Maybe its not about all of the questions? Just one? Which one is the Key?
She tasted blood on her lip where she worried it too long. The sudden metallic taste on her tongue jarred her thoughts, causing her mind to reset. Absently, her hand went to her neckline for the hundredth time and failed to find the fine gold necklace Optimus had given her. Inside the locket had been a button to set off a distress beacon that should have brought the Autobots running. She knew she had depressed it before she was abducted from the tour group but it had been missing when she awoke in her glass containment. Was it lost on the floor of the Incan temple in Peru? Had her kidnappers taken it off her person after she had been knocked out? Would the Autobots find her? Could they? Where was she?
Nothing of what was happening screamed Decepticon modus operandi. The 'Con's would have been present to torment them personally, not over a speaker system. Furthermore there was no way that they could have mistaken her identity. The Decepticons would have had her pulled aside separately for interrogation or locked away in some empty room to use against the Autobots later—or at least, that's what Carly had told her they did. Ruling out the Decepticons left her with a threat that scared her as badly as any purple badge totting mech—unpredictable crazy humans.
Damn it all, why couldn't it have been Megatron and the Decepticons? It's always the Decepticons! Why did now have to be different?
Decepticons she could deal with. They had a set pattern. It would have been easy to use herself as leverage to secure her safety. But humans... She was an American traveling in a foreign country. It was likely she hit jackpot on the bad luck lotto. She did not want to know what she had unwittingly spun on fate's wheel for flavor of crazy, but given her situation she had to guess sadistic serial killer.
Please Optimus! She prayed to whatever power would listen. Make a grand last minute entrance by blasting your way-
No. Her own inner voice would not allow her to deceive herself. Alicean squeezed her eyes shut painfully tight and gritted her teeth. No one is coming, Alicean Marie Witwicky. They can't travel instantaneously. Whether they're at the Ark in Oregon or their New York headquarters, it's still a several hours flight in Skyfire from the States to here... By the time Op gets here you'll be...
"WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A CHARGED PHOTONIC CRYSTAL?"
Slowly, she cracked her eyelids open, gazing out at nothing. The distorted thundering Voice of their abductor cut through her meandering thoughts. Gradually, her hazel eyes shifted to the Politician on her left.
Like everyone else before, the Politician struggled to understand the question. Alicean did not understand it either. It made no sense in the context of Its previous questions. It was the last question in the series of questions that signaled the end. The Politician was swimming in his own sweat.
"Use it for power."
"HOW?"
"I-I don't know!" The Politician raged, swiftly devolving into a raving animal. Spit flew. His teeth were gnashing. "What the hell is a photonic crystal? Is it used in electronics? Can it be used for power!"
"YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND INADEQUATE."
"No!" Raged the man. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who-"
Golden mercurial liquid rushed to fill the glass containment. The politicians skin burned and sizzled. His death scream, like all seven before, borrowed into Alice's brain and imprinted there. She locked her eyes straight ahead and tried not to see the man as he was liquidated instantly. Tried desperately to tune out the man screaming himself to death. She tried to focus on her 'Bots. Tried to bury out the present with the past.
Stolen moments from precious memories slotted across her minds eye. She freeze framed moments of Jazz and Bumblebee and Optimus. For years, sweet little Bumblebee had always been there for her family. Ever the loyal guardian and friend. It was hard not to recall a moment since she was fourteen that did not have his beaming face in it from the Witwicky family barbecues to accompanying Spike, Buster and her to the local small town diners for old-fashioned ice cream and Italian sodas. Bumblebee had always been a spot of light and cheerfulness—until she had left.
Steering away from the negative, Alicean focused on Jazz. Her personal guardian after she had left the protection of the Ark following her desire to world travel. Who better to share in a love of culture and people than Jazz? But her memories drifted to before the Split and settled on her teenager years of Jazz being Jazz, unpredictable and dangerously charismatic. She never really knew what he did for the Autobots, how could she when all she had were prominent memories of the mech lounging in the Rec Room or stationed in the Command Center of the Ark, pedes propped up on the next available surface and television surfing across Teletraan's multiple screens. The craziest and most hilarious moment and been when she had walked in and found him reading the local newspaper, blown up to his size using the science division's Transmat Reduction Beam thrown in reverse. Putting aside his blatant misuse of materials, she was still certain that Optimus had never once caught Jazz in the act of behaving like a lazy house cat. Or perhaps more accurate, a slyly plotting house cat.
Her heart clenched as her thoughts turned to Optimus. When had he ever not been a constant in her life? Composed and resolute, offering her rides in the countryside when he needed a breather from his duties, or just as a because. They had always simply just enjoyed each others company whether in quiet while she read, or drew, or on the long rides listening to an eighties classic radio station.
A misplaced titter flirted from her throat.
"Hey kid."
At the intonation of the voice, Alicean's acute concentration on the wall ahead broke. She jerked off the glass and blinked owlishly at the philosophy professor in the last containment to her right.
After the second of their group of ten had been found inadequate, he had promptly made himself comfortable on the floor of his containment cell in a cross legged fashion and had meditated ever since. Lost beyond his aura of tranquility, she must have looked the desperate sort, ragged from stress and her clothes road worn. Heavens, she had just laughed a moment before. Beside him, she was the one faring worse.
She was just making up her mind that she had imagined him speaking when he said suddenly, "The questions do not matter."
How can he be so calm...?
"I know that already."
He nodded once. "Then you know that it's not you that's inadequate. It's him and his system of questions. If you have a god, make peace with them- or not."
She liked the man. As much as anyone could develop a liking for another person in the span of a few hours while under horrific physiological questions and indiscriminate murder.
To her shock, the Philosopher's containment lit up. Of the two of them left it was his that had been randomly selected.
The Voice boomed out yet again:
"A SERIES OF QUESTIONS WILL BE ASKED OF YOU. YOU MUST ANSWER THEM HONESTLY TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF YOUR CHARACTER. FAILURE TO DO SO-"
"I refuse to partake in your sick questionnaire."
There was a moment's pause from the Voice, as if he was in as much shock as Alicean was to the Philosopher's bold proclamation. And then, a sudden bout of horror struck Alicean.
No! Her thoughts wailed. No! I need you to stall! She was screaming at the Philosopher. Optimus and the Autobots need time! Give them—us—time! Answer the damn questions!
"WHY?"
No matter what the Voice always wanted them to elaborate. Why? How? Why? Never ending.
"I refuse. Your system is corrupt. There is no right answer for your specific set of parameters."
"No!" Alicean finally snapped and screamed at the man. "Answer the damn questions!" She did not recognize her own shrill voice, warbling with cold dread. "Answer them now!"
"THE QUESTIONS ARE FRAMED BASED OFF OF YOUR CHARACTER. ANY INADEQUACIES DETECTED ARE A FAILURE ON YOUR OWN CHARACTER."
"I refuse to comply."
"Answer the god damned questions!" She roared at him, but the older man did not flinch. Too late the notion dawned on her he had spent the whole time preparing himself for this moment. Settling his mind and making peace, as he had just told her to do. A part of her could hardly believe she missed the long winded Politician.
Alicean's nerves jumped when the verdict came down.
"YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND INADEQUATE."
The Philosopher did not scream like all the others. The gold mercurial liquid poured straight onto his skull and burned through. For a moment, his orifices became a macabre fountain before everything melted away.
Alicean collapsed to the floor of her containment. Her palms and forehead pressed against the glass wall. A cold sweat beaded down her forehead, matting her wild brunette Witwicky curls to her head. Her heart thudded wildly in her breast like a rabbit's.
Her fried nerves jumped when her containment cell lit up with the thunderous noise that signaled she had been selected.
"A SERIES OF QUESTIONS WILL BE ASKED OF YOU. YOU MUST ANSWER THEM HONESTLY TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF YOUR CHARACTER. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN AN INADEQUACY JUDGMENT. DO YOU COMPREHEND?"
Her lip quivered to respond. Her voice came out hoarse and shrill as she battled back tears. "Yes."
"DO YOU COMPREHEND?"
"YES!" She screamed for no other reason than to release the roiling tension in her chest. One more moment alive was another moment to give the Autobots...to give Optimus Prime. She had to hold on to that, if anything.
One. More. Moment.
"HOW DO YOU PROVE YOUR EXISTENCE?"
The delicate balance of emotions she had been see-sawing between swayed to the extreme end of her Witwicky temper. Furious with the Philosopher for just giving up when she needed him, angry that the Autobots had not arrived yet, enraged at her luck in life in general-Alicean gave in to her temper. She slammed her fist against the glass containment.
"ELABORATE."
Alicean gave in to her hate. With more gusto, she slammed her fist against it again, hoping it would shatter.
Then, she realized almost too late, that the Voice had not asked 'how?' or 'why?' Elaborate. It had asked for her to elaborate. That...was different.
Alicean touched on enlightenment. In a reckless flurry she banged on the glass again and again, each time she ascended higher and higher until she had reclaimed her feet. Every strike resounded like the deep rung of a church bell.
"CEASE."
Emboldened, Alicean slammed her fist once more for emphasis and stumbled back from the glass on unsteady legs.
"WOULD YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?"
"No." Was her swift response and then a sudden strike of hesitation. She thought of Optimus. She thought of the Autobots. Mostly, her thoughts were with Optimus. Once, not so long ago, she had asked him to gift her that very thing. Never before had he been mad at her as he had been then.
No, he had told her. Do not ask again.
Old rejected pain tore itself back open and spilled across her face. Would he ever know what had happened to her? Did he know how she really felt?
"WHY?"
She felt whatever 'good' grounds she had gained on the first question were quickly slipping underfoot. She had to get her bearings and figure this out. It wasn't the questions, she reminded herself. Or it was just one particular question?
Ignore the questions, she decided. Stall for time.
"Why? There are so many whys to the question. Yes or no is subjective to the current state of mind. If you had asked when I was younger I would have responded yes. Ask me now and I say no. Ask me again and I might say yes."
"WHY?"
She felt like she was speaking to her nephew Galen. She wanted to scream. Instead she grasped at her frayed strands of sanity. Moments. She had to remind herself. Every moment counted. Stall.
With trembling hands, she carded her fingers through her cold, entangled hair. "You simply asked if I wanted to live forever-but you failed to elaborate in what state. Immortality is not the same as longevity." Her forehead hit the glass containment again and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rub out the fear and hang on to the anger. The anger burned everything else away. It gave her the strength to stand and talk. Her anger had always been a great motivator.
Hold on to that. Drag this out. Give. Optimus. Every. Moment. You. Can.
A sudden, disjointed thought hit her hard. Channel Bluestreak. Become the Bluestreak.
Her dry lips peeled apart and what came out was nothing short of a prattling stream of endless words that somehow stitched themselves together into the sentence structures she required.
"I hope you enjoy stories. I love stories, tales, myths, the whole convoluted bag of it. You see my point, my point of asking is this-Across cultures and ages, there are always stories warning against the very mistake of confusing longevity for immortality. If I may, one that jumps to mind and is a personal favorite hails from ancient Greece. The tale unfolds as so—there is a woman known as the Pythia—No, wait, the Sibyl...I—I think the title means the same thing—no, no wait. Maybe I should start with Apollo? Do you know Apollo? He's the sun god of the Greek pantheon and let me just tell you, if you didn't already know, he had no luck at all with his lovers. I say lovers because he bedded both men and woman. I should think that would make him bisexual but—if I recall correctly, my studies have been awhile and my memory could be degraded—but I think he fancied the men more. It's just my personal opinion that I think he was actually gay and trying to hide it from his chauvinistic, womanizing father Zeus. Wait. You do know the Greek pantheon right? The story might not make sense unless you have the context. Let me start over from the top of the pantheon. So there's Zeus, right and-"
"TH-"
The crackle of the speaker and utterance of a first syllable from the Voice sent a lance of fear straight through her core. She panicked.
"I WASN'T FINISHED!" She screamed, all shot nerves and jitters that she felt so intense she was shocked her hands were not visibly trembling. Her mouth kept rolling with the tongue. Kept screaming to drown out the Voice in the hopes she would win the shouting game and make it quiet down to listen to her. It was the crude basis of every fight that every was. "I WASN'T FINISHED ANSWERING THE QUESTION!"
She did not wait for a response. She stormed straight ahead.
"The Sibyl refused Apollo's advances! That's how the story goes! The woman knew death befell all of Apollo's lovers and so she beseeched him as kindly as she could, to not offend the god, that he find someone else. Apollo loved Sibyl and knowing what she said to be true, he ceased courting her. Yet. Yet! Get this- he offered her a single wish. Any desire of hers and he would grant it for the woman who had got away. If I may interject quickly here, I think Apollo was being a bitter jackass-You'll see in a moment. In arrogance or greed, however you choose to look at it, Sibyl picked up a handful of sand and asked to live one year for each grain in the palm of her hand-and failed to ask for the eternal youth that went with it. After a thousand years she had degraded to just a voice in a bottle." Alicean cracked her eyes open slowly, seeing across the empty chamber of her confinement and not seeing it at all. "Nothing of the woman remained." She concluded heavily. "That...that is the danger of misunderstanding that immorality does not go hand in hand with longevity. What is the point of living forever if you don't have good health and a sound mind to accompany it? What is the point of withering away to nothing and yet be unable to die?"
There was a lengthy pause that shook her nerves. The Voice had never been so long in responding. It was always punctual and terse. Alicean grasped desperately to the waning anger that loaned projection to her voice. "So I ask you." She pressed. "In what state?"
The speaker system crackled to life. From it the Voice intoned;
"THE WHOLE OF IT."
Alicean's mind reeled. Something at last that was not a 'why?' or 'how?' or 'elaborate.' Something beyond a one word response.
She echoed the Voice's words. 'The whole of it.' The whole of it. Immortality and longevity. The whole of it.
"THE QUESTION IS REFRAMED—WOULD YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER IN YOUR CURRENT STATE?"
She was in the prime of her life-late twenties, a sharp mind, strong able-bodied and wonderful health. Anyone would say yes.
Alicean's thoughts turned to her late father Radar, who gave his life to protect her cousin Spike and her from the Decepticons. Then her thoughts slipped to her mother who could not bare to live life without her father. Her mother who had been so blinded by grief that she could not see the prescribed doctor's pills were killing her because she was allergic to them.
And then, her thoughts turned to Optimus once again. A constant in her life. She could only ever be a fleeting flicker of a flame in his. How did someone who lived millions of years and lead an army that was half the equation to the death of their entire species and planet live with the burden?
She remembered almost too late that not even Cybertronians were immortal. They too, died.
Alicean's tongue was thick in her mouth. "No."
"WHY?"
"Life is death." She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead back and forth against the glass wondering why this was the hardest thing to answer in her life. "Death is life. They fuel each other. The concept of a constant life refutes the foundation of existence. Nothing escapes death. Not humans. Not Cybertronians. Nothing. Even gods can die."
"Did Apollo?"
She blinked. Then blinked harder. Mental whiplash left her gaping, staring up at the speaker system. That was not the distorted Voice. This was a new Voice. Or the same without the distortion. This new Voice was gentle, a soothing tone that brought to mind a kind, smiling grandfatherly figure. Alicean could not perceive how the two were the same and concluded that there had to be more than one abductor.
When she was quiet too long, gaping at the speaker, the Grandfatherly Voice took the time to elaborate for her.
"Did this sun god die?" The Grandfatherly Voice inquired.
Slowly her mouth got to working and she managed to say carelessly, "Well, he's not around today is he."
There was a long silence that tested the stress lines of her nerves. Unbidden came a fleeting image in her minds eye of the two Voices conversing with each other off mic. She began to wonder if that was what was going on for the length of time she was left in silence. Then finally, the Grandfatherly Voice returned.
"What would you do with a charged photonic crystal, child?"
There it was at last. The last question in the series of questions signaling the end. And yet, that terrible dreaded question seemed refreshed and even charming coming from the Grandfatherly Voice. Alicean could imagine a warm smile on the wizened face as he kindly prompted an answer from her.
It did not divert her from the knowledge that she was going to die soon.
Once again, the metallic taste of blood burst on her tongue as she worried her lower lip. Again, her grasping fingers fumbled for her locket and found nothing at her throat.
A sudden thought struck her like lightning. The charged photonic cyrstal was not the red herring question. It was the rest of the questions that were unimportant. It was the only question that stood apart-not to be thrown aside from the equation but the central piece to the puzzle.
More than that, a wild notion had struck Alicean. She thought she understood what a charged photonic crystal was.
Her fingers brushed along the skin at her throat, seeking the fine chain of the necklace that just wasn't there. When Optimus had given her the necklace he had not just gifted her with a fashionable S.O.S. relay. The other half of the locket had contained a splinter piece of the Matrix.
Steadily, her eyes grew larger and larger. Slowly, her mouth dropped wide.
Her necklace was missing. She knew she had gotten the distress signal off. But the necklace-
Was this whole thing designed to find the owner of her necklace? Were the Voices trying to figure out if she knew what it was that she had? Was the Matrix a photonic cyrstal? She had never heard the Autobots refer to it as such.
What else could it be? What else could the Voices be asking?
She felt stupid. How had she not realized it before? The Voices had to have her necklace. It had the Matrix piece. And-
Good. Lord. In. Heaven.
They were killing these people because of a piece of the Matrix. Because of her.
No. Noonononononono. Her hand flew up to scrub at her face. She wasn't murdering these people. She wasn't pulling the trigger. She didn't even have the gun. She just had had a necklace with a miraculous shard of the Matrix that the Voices coveted. If she was honest, everyone coveted it that knew of it-
Oh. The fast track rapid thoughts in her brain came crashing to a halt in a tumultuous train-wreck. When all had quieted, only frightening revelations remained. Her kidnapping wasn't random. If it was not random, than these were people that wanted the Matrix, or Cybertronian technology, and knew that she had the piece. They had been tracking her after all, probably waiting for the opportune moment to strike. That kind of brutal efficiency could work with a serial killer, except she had ruled that out at this point. And she doubted cultists were involved. Everything from the sterile room, to the glass containment, to the golden mercurial liquid-it spoke of military involvement and her mind turned to the biggest terrorist group that harassed the 'Cons and her 'Bots alike—MECH.
Except, she didn't understand why MECH would be going through all this.
"Child." Prodded the Grandfatherly Voice. "Sweet child, what would you do with a charged photonic crystal?"
Was he chiding her? Indignation spiked and irritation flared with it. Assholes. The angry thought burned in her brain. Murdering, sadistic assholes. I hope Optimus and the Autobots reduce you to a pulp.
She pressed the flat of her palms to her eyes. "You're MECH. Why. Why would you do all this? You know who I am!"
"I do not know to which you speak. Please, answer the question."
Blank slate. Emptiness. Flatline. All of those words would have been great adjectives to describe her mental state. Not MECH? Who-?
"Shall I repeat it for you a third time?"
Her mouth went dry as she tried to speak. "You're asking about my Matrix shard, correct. That's what you're referencing? I would do with it as I was asked to do—give life where there is an absence thereof."
The silence that followed was the longest in her life. The longer it stretched Alicean felt her strength draining from her limbs. Her body wanted to cave under its own weight and yet refused. She felt herself a fragile relic, durable enough to survive the passage of time and yet capable of shattering if mishandled. Juxaposed between two extreme roads.
The original distorted Voice boomed out suddenly and Alicean shook violently at its return.
"YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND ADEQUATE BY PRIMUS HIMSELF."
At first, Alicean misheard. The air rushed from her lungs and her muscles tensed, a wild fear of the golden mercurial substance that had consumed everyone else. Then, the truth settled on her. Her fingers dragged along the glass wall. Her nerves snapped loose like a stretched rubber band.
Found adequate!
If an inadequacy meant death, what did an adequate pass mean? An adequate pass for experimentation? Had she just passed one field test to be shoved into another? Dear lord, death she could accept. Swift and relatively painless. But swift. What was next? A lab table? Physical experimentation?
Then the last of what the Voice had said dawned on her.
By Primus himself?!
"What?" She gasped, then her eyes rose to the speaker unit. "What does that mean? Hey!" She found conviction with every word until she was banging against the glass. Sudden, wild fear snared her heart. "What does that mean!"
Her fists beat the glass until they hurt. Her voice had long pitched to shrill. "Answer me!"
The Voice did-
-by unleashing a gas into the containment. Alicean tried to cover her mouth and nose with her shirt. Tried not to breath it in. Tried not to panic as her vision swam and blackness swooped in from beyond her field of vision to form a tunnel that was quickly collapsing. She toppled. Her knees hit the floor, then slammed her hand down to balance herself out. Lightheadedness threatened her. She felt disconnected from her body as if she was floating somewhere above it.
Optimus. She had to live for Optimus.
Her head hit the cold floor. Everything she knew fell into darkness.