Raf kept his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him, his body burning from the seventh dose of E-X1, staring at the Cybertronian code that scrolled down the screen in seemingly endless rows. He hated this. Every second of it. And what was worse, he hated the silence.
Steve hadn't said a word to him since Starscream had… done what he did. The memory of the former SIC's cruel grin as he pried into the Eradicon's medical port made Raf's stomach churn. The agonized screams that followed played in his mind like a broken record.
He liked Steve better when he'd preach to him Decepticon propaganda.
"I'm sorry that Starscream did that to you," the preteen said quietly. He glanced at the mech, hoping for a response, but Steve didn't so much as glance in his direction. The boy swallowed hard and continued. "It sounded like it hurt."
Still, nothing.
Raf turned his attention back to the screen, starting to activate the algorithms MECH had forced him to upload. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing these protocols would do something to the Decepticon, most likely making him a little more than a puppet for MECH's plans.
"I-I know you don't want to talk to me," the boy said. "I don't blame you. I'm working on your processor because they told me to, but…" For a moment, the words caught in his throat. "I don't want to hurt you."
Steve finally turned to look at him with a dim red visor.
"It wasn't fair what they did to you," Raf continued, sighing. "And it's not fair what they're making me do now. We're just both experiments, I think."
"Fleshy—" Steve began.
"Raf," the boy snapped instinctively, turning back to the computer.
"What are you putting in my processor?"
He glanced up at the towering mech, then back at the screen. "Um… I don't know. I was told to put it in. If I look, they said they'll hurt my friends and make me watch." His voice wavered, and he squeezed his eyes shut when the image of Miko being dragged into the icy water popped in his mind.
Miko's screamed as the soldier adjusted his grip and dunked her face-first into the icy water. Her struggles quickly turned frantic, arms flailing as she tried desperately to grab the edges of the barrel. The water sloshed violently as her muffled screams turned into frantic gurgles.
"I—" He choked on the words, realizing he couldn't talk about it. Desperate to change the subject, he blurted out, "Can you tell me a story?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
Raf rolled his eyes. "That's not a reason."
"It is."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"Is—" Raf sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Steve was like an oversized, alien metal kid. And he was just spurring on the childish behavior. "Just tell me a story. Pleeeease."
"Why?"
"Maybe I want to get to know you," the preteen huffed, swinging his feet on the chair. Steve didn't respond immediately, and Raf sighed. "Please," he added. "You don't have to make it long or anything. Just… I don't know, tell me about your life. Or someone you cared about."
"Fine. If it'll shut you up, -fleshy-."
"Raf," the boy corrected automatically, smiling slightly. He reached up to push his glasses up, only to remember that they weren't there anymore. He didn't need them because of the serum.
"I… had a friend. 64-RY. He was one of the few who made things… bearable. We are just drones, built for the war, for Lord Megatron. But G4-3Y wasn't like the others. He could always find a reason to laugh, even when there wasn't much to laugh about. He kept me sane."
"What happened to him?"
"What happens to all of us? War. Death. Survival. But there was one time…" He trailed off, visor dimming almost to a non-existent glow.
"What time?" Raf prompted gently.
"Back on Cybertron. We were stationed with Lord Megatron. Lord Megatron fought Optimus Prime himself, but he was severely wounded from his fight with the Autobot, and it became worse by his fall into the mine nearby. He was buried beneath a pile of rubble. G4-3Y and I, along with another unit dug him out while we held off the Autobot scum who tried to assassinate our lord."
The preteen resisted the urge to snap at the Vehicon for referring to the Autobots as 'scum', and stayed quiet, letting Steve continue.
"There were so many of them," Steve said distantly. "Autobots everywhere. But 64-RY never wavered. Never showed fear. We held them off together, side by side, until our unit finally got Megatron free. We escorted him back to safety, 64-RY and I. It was one of the few times I felt like we'd done something… important."
"And… Gary? Did he make it out?"
Steve tilted his helm slightly toward the slabs by the observation deck, one painted black and red, having little resemblance to a standard Eradicon. "He's over there," he said flatly. "He hasn't moved since we got here. They've been working on him, as you can see."
"I'm sorry about Gary."
"Gaaa-eee? Gaa-ree." The Vehicon struggled with the name, causing Raf to giggle. He glanced around, seeing the guards staring at him suspiciously. They were at a distance, close enough to keep an eye on him, yet far enough not to hear their conversation. He'd asked for room, claiming that he need space to concentrate. "Garee. Why do you keep renaming us your stupid fleshy names?"
"Gary. Well, that's what your "Cybertronian names" spell." The boy shrugged at Steve's odd expression.
"It's 64-RY," he snapped. "Not 'Gary.' Stop naming us your stupid fleshy names."
The preteen grinned. "No."
"You—"
"—haven't answered my question," the boy interrupted. "Did you and Gary do anything in your free time? You know, when you weren't… fighting Autobots or digging Megatron out of the rubble?"
Steve made a sound somewhere between a snort and a scoff. "Free time? Do you think we got free time? We were drones, sparkling. Tools of war. Free time wasn't in the programming."
"Okay, but you had to have done something," Raf pressed. "Like… talked to each other? Shared stories? Anything?"
A long moment of silence stretched on. "We didn't talk much. What was the point? Everything we needed to say could be said on the battlefield."
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Come on, you're telling me you never joked around? Or messed with each other? Not even a little?"
"There was this one time," he admitted grudgingly. "During a supply run. We were stationed near a ruined energon mine. 64-RY found a pile of scrap—old weapons and tools—and started pretending to be some big-shot commander, giving us orders in this ridiculous voice. He said was going to overthrow Megatron and take over the Decepticons."
Raf chuckled, picturing the scene. "Sounds like he had a sense of humor."
"Yeah. He did. It was stupid, but… it made the rest of us laugh. Even me."
The boy leaned forward. "What did you do?"
"Me?" Steve's tone took on a faint note of amusement. "I told him he sounded like Starscream after a bad recharge cycle. He didn't take it well and chased me halfway across the mine with a broken energon rod."
Raf burst out laughing, startling himself and the others around him. The workers gave odd looks to each other, then stared at him like he had grown two heads. The preteen didn't care what MECH thought, seeing Steve relax slightly. Well, as much as he could strapped to a slab.
"You miss him, don't you?" Raf realized when the Eradicon shot a wistful look at his friend. He didn't even think that Vehicons could be friends with each other, or even had any personality beyond the programming that he assumed controlled them all. Talking to Steve gave him a different perspective, though whenever he got out of here, he was going to talk to the Autobots.
Steve's visor dimmed. "He was my friend," he said simply. "The only one I ever had. And now he's lying there, offline, while these… humans poke and prod at him like he's nothing."
"I'm sorry," was all he could say.
The Vehicon didn't respond.
Raf opened his mouth to ask Steve another question, when the blaring wail of MECH's alarms drowned out his voice. The room was bathed in a red light, flashing sync with the ear-splitting sirens. Before he could even process what was happening, a faceless MECH soldier grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him out of his seat.
The boy twisted and struggled, but he was embarrassingly small and weak. That's why it took him so long to get the rope in gym glass down. "Let go of me!" Raf shouted, but the man ignored him.
Raf craned his neck and saw Steve's slab being moved by the wheels attached to the metal slab by a large team of soldiers with vehicles.
Bright sunlight suddenly assaulted his eyes as they exited into a massive outdoor staging area. Helicopters roared overhead, and once he regained his sight, he saw that the lot was crowded with green sports cars, Humvees, black vans, and an array of other military vehicles.
His head spun at the crazy activity of MECH.
What was going on?
He was shoved roughly toward one of the helicopters. The soldier gripping him barked orders to his comrades, shoving him forward. Raf stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch himself before being manhandled into the open side door of the chopper.
Inside, another soldier sat waiting, a rifle trained on the preteen the moment he was pushed into the seat. The boy froze, his throat drying up and heart beating loudly. The man holding the gun narrowed his eyes, clearly sizing him up.
"Don't try anything, kid," the soldier growled.
Raf nodded, swallowing hard. He wasn't about to test his luck.
The soldier who had dragged him into the helicopter climbed in next, shouting over the noise as the engines roared to life. "Did you hear about the girl?" he hollered to his partner.
The second soldier turned. "Yeah!" he shouted back. "Heard she beat the shit out of Felton! Doctor says he probably won't survive his head injuries!"
Raf's stomach dropped. His mind raced. The girl… They couldn't mean—
"Thank God!" the first soldier bellowed, cutting off the preteen's spiraling thoughts. "Felton was a psycho anyway! Always gave me the creeps!"
That horrifying possibility of Miko couldn't be true. They couldn't be talking about her. His logical side screamed that it wasn't possible, that she couldn't have done something like that. It had to be that black-haired woman with glasses. She seemed like the type of person that could do that, not Miko.
The soldiers' voices dragged him back to reality. "This one doesn't look like much!" the second man yelled, jerking a thumb toward Raf.
The first soldier snorted. "I wouldn't trust him," he shouted back. "He's pumped full of that green shit—the same stuff that killed Jim!"
Raf's went wide. His blood turned to ice as the words sank in. Green shit? His mind flashed back to the injections that were administered this morning, or what he thought was morning, the unbearable burning and tingling. He wasn't the only one? They were experimenting on others too?
"What… what are you talking about?"
The soldier with the gun scoffed, leaning closer. "You think you're special, kid? MECH's been running tests on a whole batch before you came along. You're just lucky you haven't dropped dead yet."
His stomach churned, and he felt like he wanted to vomit. How many others? What happened to them? Did they all die? Was that going to happen to him and his friends? If they did this to others… what are they doing us?
The two soldiers screamed as massive claws gripped the side of the chopper. Metal groaned and twisted under the pressure, and in an instant, one of the claws shot inside and grabbed Raf.
The boy screamed as he was yanked from his seat, the world spinning violently around him. His stomach churned, and his body felt weightless in the nauseating grip of vertigo. The rush of air screamed in his ears, and his vision blurred as black crept in the sides of his vision.
He wanted to vomit, but he hadn't eaten in two days—his food had come back up the last time he'd tried. When the world came to a halt, his body from expelled the little that remained. Clear, acidic bile splattered onto the surprisingly warm, black servo holding him.
A piercing voice rattled his bones, making the forming head feel so much worse. "Ugh! You fleshies are disgusting! Look what you did! You purged your disgusting organs all over me!"
Raf trembled, looking up to meet a pair of glowing vermilion optics.
Starscream.
The Seeker's features were angular and thin, compared to the Autobots' faceplates, twisted into a look of disgust. A red crest extended up his helm, reminding him of a unicorn's horn just a lot deadlier and made of metal. Raf had never been this close to the Seeker before.
Lips curled into a sneer as the world around him spun again, and suddenly, he was in the opposite clawed servo, while Starscream shook the offending hand with visible disgust.
"Unbelievable," the former SIC hissed. "How do you humans even function? You're fragile, weak, and now… this." He flicked the contaminated servo with a grimace, trying to rid himself of the offensive substance.
Raf couldn't stop trembling, gripping on of the pointed digits like they were the only things keeping him from plummeting to the ground below. He stared at the silver mech, watching those red optics study him for a moment. A sharp, toothy grin spread across Decepticon's face.
"Hmm… you'll do," he said, almost to himself. "Maybe I can get my energon sooner…"
"W-what?" the preteen stammered.
Starscream didn't bother to answer, but the sinister grin spreading across his face meant that he had nothing good planned for him. "Now," Starscream began, his tone oozing with malice. "Let's see if you're as useful as they claim, little human—"
A booming voice rang out, cutting through the middle of the Seeker's sentence.
"STARSCREAM! I SHOULD'VE FINISHED YOU IN THE MINE!"
An irritated Starscream froze, helm slowly toward the source of the voice. The boy followed his gaze and felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
Bulkhead.
The Wrecker stood a short distance away, plating bristled, and dermas curled into a feral snarl. Those friendly features that everyone knew and loved were gone, replaced with something scary. His normally warm blue optics were lined with a glowing red that bled into the edges, creating a terrible, purplish hue.
Raf whimpered, clutching at the digit even tighter. He had never seen Bulkhead like this.
"Nuh uh uh," Starscream tutted, raising the preteen high for the Wrecker to see. The Humvee stopped dead in his tracks, optics widening in horror as they locked onto the boy held hostage by the Seeker.
"Put the boy down," came another voice, baritone and calm.
Optimus Prime came into view behind Bulkhead, optics locking onto the terrified Rafael.
"So you can shoot me?" Starscream sneered, shifting his grip on the boy. He winced when he was helplessly trapped in a metal cage of black, pointed tips digging into his skin uncomfortably. "I think not. Besides," the former SIC continued, "I don't believe dear Silas would be pleased if he lost his pet."
Bulkhead snarled, taking a step forward.
"Bulkhead," Optimus warned, placing a firm servo on the Wrecker's shoulder.
"But Prime—" The Humvee's engine growled.
"Stand down," the Guardian Knight said in a tone leaving no room for argument.
Bulkhead hesitated, fighting the overwhelming urge to act and warring with the knowledge that one wrong move could end in disaster.
"Touching, really," he mocked. "The great Optimus Prime and his band of fools, brought to a standstill by one pathetic human life."
"Starscream," Optimus said in a steely tone. "This is your last chance. Release the boy."
"Last chance?" Starscream repeated, laughing sharply. "Oh, how generous of you, Prime. But I think I'll keep him a little longer." He tilted his head, his grin widening. "Unless, of course, you're willing to negotiate."
"You should put the boy down. Now."
A calm, icy voice came from behind them. Raf's head swiveled to the source of the new voice, finding himself looking at the Wrecker, Wheeljack, who had his katana aimed directly at the Seeker's neck. His posture was casual, but there was a dangerous look in those pale blue optics, promising death if a wrong move was made.
Starscream made a startled noise, practically jumping in fear. "I-I didn't want him anyway!" he stammered. The preteen barely had time to process the words before he was no longer in the warm palm of the Seeker, instead in the air. His stomach churned violently as he screamed, the cruel claws of gravity seizing him and dragging him toward the ground far below.
Wind whipped in his ears, hair flying up and eyes stinging from the harsh currents lashing at him as he spun and found the ground below, watching as the Autobots sprang into action instantly.
"Raf!" Bulkhead roared, extending a servo. Optimus Prime leaped forward, servo outstretched in a bid to catch the falling boy. Even Wheeljack, who had been poised to strike Starscream down, abandoned his stance and lunged forward, optics locked on Raf.
But none of them were fast enough.
The sound of transforming filled the air and a cage of silver and black panels shifted around the boy, sealing him in as a seatbelt snapped around him, tying him against the cockpit chair. The roar of thrusters hurt his ears as Starscream laughed. "Too slow, Autobots!"
"STARSCREAM!"
Jack groaned as his back slammed into the cold metal wall of the room. He clenched his teeth against the pain radiating through his body. Nasty, purple bruises bloomed across his welt filled chest from the latest blows.
The two MECH goons who had replaced Felton, who had strangely been absent today (not that he was complaining), were far less… creative than their sadistic predecessor, but what they lacked in brains, they more than made up for in brute strength.
One of the faceless soldiers sneered as he hauled Jack up by the scruff of his neck. "Not so tough now, are you?" he spat, punching him hard in his already broken ribs. Jack gasped, feeling a sharp pain flare up from his abused side.
"C'mon, kid," the other goon taunted, circling like a predator. "You can take it, right? Or do we need to go easier on you?"
Jack hissed through clenched teeth, clawing at the hand holding his neck in a painful grip. The burly man laughed cruelly, releasing him and shoving him back into the wall. The teenager's head slammed against the metal with a sickening thud, stars dancing in his vision.
A heavy punch sent him sprawling to the floor. As she struggled to sit up, a boot connected with his face, snapping his head to the side. A metallic tang filled his mouth as he spat out the glob of blood, staining the floor beneath him.
"Maybe we'll go pay a visit to the girl," the second goon muttered, sounding bored. "She's a lot feistier than him. And I like my girls feisty."
Jack only saw green. Rage spilling over and consumed every corner of his consciousness, ignited by the cruel words of the man. He wasn't aware of what happened, only screams that drifted through the fog. When he came back to himself, the room was silent, save for his own ragged breathing.
The teenager blinked, the green haze receding as he took in the scene before him. One of the MECH goons lay crumpled on the floor, groaning in agony. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading slowly across the cold, gray surface. His mask was torn, a jagged scar running across the surface, revealing one large, terrified blue eye.
The other man was on his back, desperately scooting away from Jack. His mask was torn off completely, revealing a bruised and swollen face, blood dripping from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Once handsome features were contorted into fear, eyes were wide with terror, hands raised defensively as he scrambled against the wall.
"Stay back!" the man shrieked, his eyes darting around the room. "What the hell are you?!"
The teenager's gaze slowly drifted to the stare at his own hands, trembling and smeared with blood. His knuckles were raw, the skin split and oozing from where he had pounded his fists into flesh and bone. Oh God, what did he do?
"I…" he started but his voice cracked, and he couldn't find the words. They were all caught in his throat. He didn't know what had just happened.
"You're a freak," the goon spat harshly, though his quivering body betrayed his bravado. "You're a damn monster."
Jack's eyes snapped up to meet his, and the man froze. Whatever he saw in the boy's gaze made him shut up. The MECH soldier scrambled out of the room as quickly as he could, forgetting to lock the door behind him in his panic.
The boy's legs felt weak beneath him, but he refused to fall. This was his opportunity to escape. Without wasting another moment, he stumbled out of the room, hoping that he didn't throw up. When the alarms sounded, he knew that the soldier had alerted the base.
Red painted the walls, reminding him of the blood on his hands. He wanted to purge, but what was there to rid his body of? He hadn't really been fed the past two days, and when they did force-feed stew down his throat, he ended up vomiting all over the doctor. Secretly, he was satisfied that happened to the cruel man.
Jack glanced left and right at the hallway split, unsure of where he was going. He wasn't even sure if there was anywhere to go. All he knew was that he had to keep moving. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, to escape the nightmare that had consumed his life.
Rounding the corner to the left, the teenager jogged down the halls. He stopped when he heard footsteps approaching his position. Thinking quickly, Jack ducked into a nearby cleaning closet and pressed himself against the back wall.
The small, confined space smelled of chemicals, coating his mouth with the awful taste. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep quiet as the soldiers ran past him without even checking inside the cleaning closet, much to his relief.
However, it was short lived.
The walls of the closet seemed to close in around him, and the darkness felt suffocating, the air too thin to breathe. Images of the torture he had endured flashed in his mind. Felton's sadistic grin, the feel of cold metal cutting into his skin, the overwhelming pain.
His head spun and pounded as panic clawed its way up. He pressed his hands against his temples, trying to block out the memories, but it didn't help.
The whip of a belt. The searing sting of electricity. The mocking laughter of his captors.
"No, no, no," he whispered. Then, the chest pain hit.
It started as a dull ache, a strange, uncomfortable pressure that quickly escalated into something far worse. It felt as though a hot iron was being pressed against his chest, the pain radiating outward in waves. The teenager clutched his chest and let out a strangled cry when it became too much.
His body spasmed violently as he collapsed onto the cold floor. His fingers clawed at chest, leaving marks, desperate to alleviate the burning agony, but it only seemed to worsen. His gasps turned into choked sobs, darkness seeping into his vision.
Just as his world began to fade completely, the door opened.
A faceless mask stared down at him and a gloved hand reached out to him. The last thing he felt was the cold touch of the glove against his skin before his vision went black.
Miko groaned, blinking slowly as she came to. Her head pounded so badly, feeling like there was a thousand drums going off at the same time. The pain radiated from the back of her skull, spreading in dull waves.
Her vision swam as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Something warm and sticky trickled down the side of her face, and instinctively, she reached up to touch it.
Her fingertips came away slick with crimson. Blood.
Nononononono! She couldn't be back! Her breathing quickened as the memories flashed before her eyes. Smiling dark eyes, a cruel grin and his favorite blade cutting into her skin, leaving a crimson trail in its wake. The girl clutched her head, willing the horrible memories away.
One look around her surroundings said otherwise. She wasn't strapped to a chair, or tied to a pole and Mr. Creepy Baldie Face wasn't looming over her with that twisted grin.
Instead, she was in a car.
The interior was ruined. The steering wheel crooked at an odd angle and the dashboard was smashed, covered in glistening shards of deadly, broken glass. Outside, the front end was crumpled and a mess of twisted metal. Smoke wafted from the engine, and the windshield was shattered .What in the world?!
Then, like a floodgate opening, it all came rushing back.
She remembered the crowbar, and the sickening crunch as she swung it into Felton's temple. The way he crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Was he dead? Could people survive having a crowbar slamming into the temple? Not that she cared…
Sneaking through the base, she'd found the Humvee with the soldier in it, keys conveniently left in the ignition. It had been her ticket out after she shot the soldier in the leg. She'd driven like a madwoman down the highway, destroying all of their motorcycles.
Then came the crash.
She winced, rubbing her matted hair and feeling the crustiness of it, most likely dried blood. The Humvee had spun out of control, flipping onto its side before slamming into a tree. The world had gone black, and now she was here.
Alone.
Miko groaned again, wiggling in the seat. Her seatbelt prevented her from moving too much. Pain shot through her body, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to move. Her hand fumbled as she struggled to press the buckle, trying to release the latch.
After struggling for a few seconds, she managed to get herself free. She cried out when her head hit the top of the Humvee, and she crumpled on the ceiling in pain. Stupid her! She should've thought about lowering herself instead of being in a painful heap on the grou—ceiling of the vehicle.
She tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. It groaned and cracked as she kicked at it with all her might. Dents formed in the door and with a growl of frustration, she gave one last mighty kick, causing the door to fly off. Miko gaped, staring at herself. Holy shit! She was like, super strong.
Without waiting another second, she crawled out of the Humvee, taking in the fresh air. She coughed, her lungs burning as she gulped down the oxygen. It was then she realized she had forgotten to grab her things.
The exchange student crawled back in, ignoring the creak of the car. She grabbed the essentials: her flip phone, the knife of Mr. Creepy Baldie Face, and the gun from the soldier. Her head bumped on the metal on the way out, leaving it throbbing.
Standing to her feet, she placed the knife went into the waistband of her shorts, hoping that it didn't cut her too badly, while the gun remained in her hands, because she didn't have anywhere else to put it. Miko flipped open her phone, and pressed buttons. Unfortunately, the battery was completely dead.
"Damn it!" she shouted, hurling the phone into the forest. It disappeared into the undergrowth with a faint rustle. Oh…
The girl looked up at the canopy of the forest, seeing the colors of orange and pink painting the sky. Her stomach twisted. How long had she been unconscious? Did Bulkhead get her message?
A rumble broke the silence, the sound reverberating through the ground beneath her feet. Birds squawked and flew out of the forest bed, while the bushes rustled with movement from the animal life. Miko spun on her heel, raising the gun with shaky hands toward the sound.
Her heart hammered in her chest as he finger hovered over the trigger, prepared to fire at whatever the hell was out there. A faint blue lit up the area, and a concerned, but familiar voice rang out. "Miko?"
Her arms dropped to her sides as her eyes widened in disbelief. "Bulkhead?" she whispered.
A massive green frame broke through the trees, and he fell to one knee, staring at her in disbelief, as if she weren't real. Tears blurred her vision as the gun slipped from her hand, forgotten. She took off running toward him, feet crunching over fallen leaves and twigs.
"Bulk!" she sobbed, throwing herself against his lowered servo. She clung to his massive finger, wrapping her arms as far around it as they could go. "Please tell me you're real," she cried, tears soaking into the warm metal. "Please tell me this isn't a dream!"
"It's not a dream, Miko," the Wrecker said gently, his own voice trembling. "I promise. I'm here for you."
She sobbed harder, shaking as he held onto him. She was never going to leave his side again! Ever. If anybody tried to take her away from Bulk, she'd fight them.
"I've got you," he murmured. "You're safe now."
Miko pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a tear-stained face. "I-I thought I'd never see you again," she choked out.
"You'll always see me," he promised. "No one's taking you away from me again."
She nodded and her sobs slowly gave way into hiccups as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "We should go Miko."
The girl swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah… I—I stole one of their Humvees. Crashed it, though."
The Wrecker smiled broadly. "That's my girl."
She managed a weak smile. "Let's get out of here."
Bulkhead transformed, and the girl thought she would start crying again when she saw his familiar alt-mode. The driver's seat opened for her, revealing the comforting insides that she had spent so many hours in.
Finally, the nightmare is over, she thought as she climbed inside, even as her chest started to burn.
Optimus Prime surveyed the remnants of MECH's base. Most of the base was decimated, and what little that wasn't destroyed was on fire. The Prime looked down at his servo, holding Jackson Darby, limp but breathing, his chest rising and falling shallowly.
The boy was in nothing but torn pants, coated in his lifeblood that was forming crusty layer over his skin. His entire frame was covered in marks and blood, he believed they were called 'bruises.'
Moaning caught his attention, and he looked down at the human who had been dragging Jack away, according to Wheeljack. The man was writhing on the ground, clutching at the burns inflicted from energon. It was the work of the Wrecker. Optimus glanced at the mech, who stood a few paces away, unrepentant.
"Wheeljack," Optimus began.
Wheeljack rolled his optics. "What? He was gonna drag the kid off to who-knows-where. I didn't kill him, did I?"
The Guardian Knight sighed but held back further reprimand. Now wasn't the time. What mattered was that Jackson was safe, though his spark ached with guilt as his optics drifted upward to the darkening sky. Somewhere out there, Starscream had Rafael. The Seeker had escaped with the boy, and Optimus had been forced to hold back, knowing that any attempt to stop him could have endangered Rafael's life further.
It hurt his spark, knowing that once again, he had failed their charges.
His optics swept over the burning base, where smoke billowed into the sky, and the charred remains of fuel drums littered the area. It was Bulkhead's doing. Unable to contain his anger at MECH, the Autobot had lashed out, igniting the fuel drums with superheated energon, destroying much of the base. Few humans survived the devastation and one of them, Dr. Conners, revealed Miko's last location.
Optimus knew the consequences of this. The Human-Autobot treaty with the humans would be strained, or worse. Director Galloway would undoubtedly demand answers for the deaths of their own, and it might lead to other undesirable outcomes. Yet a small voice within him whispered that it had been worth it.
"Bulk's out there now, probably tearing through trees to find her," Wheeljack remarked, crossing his arms as his gaze drifted toward the forest where the Wrecker had last been headed.
The Prime gave a slow nod. "Let us hope he finds her unharmed." Raising two digits of his free servo to his audial receptor, he opened a comm link. "Ratchet, we need a GroundBridge. We have found the children."
Well, here it is. I started to write again (because that's what I do when I am depressed to drown out everything else) and found that I liked this one much better than what I had before. I rewrote this chapter a second time.
I have good news though. I managed to recover most of my stories, except for my two big 'childhood masterpieces', which meant a lot to me. Really sad about that, but I'm relieved that I was able to get back some of my stories. It's better then nothing.
Thank you all for your support! It means so much to me.
And don't worry, the brat that did this is being punished :)