Re-kzztzz-er the-keezztzz, Rzzzz...
A static laced voice echoed in his mind, vanishing into the emptiness.
Then, silence.
When he came to, he felt a creeping sense of wrongness settle over him. His systems booted up, and for a brief, disorienting mome—klik, he felt like he was falling, not physically, but internally, like something important was missing.
The unease coiled tight in his bra—processor, making sto—tanks churn with discomfort, the sensation foreign yet strangely familiar at the same time. Something inside him whispered that he should be afraid. And yet... he didn't know why.
He forced himself to stay still, feigning unco—stasis as he let his ea—audial receptors adjust to his surroundings. There were multiple voices, lacking the metallic twang in their tones. So they must be human.
He resisted the urge to shift, keeping his ey—optics offline as he turned his focus inward. Where am I? What is the last thing I remembered?
Re-kzztzz-er the-keezztzz, Rzzzz...
That voice again...
Was he Rzzzz? That didn't sound right.
His memory banks. He needed to check his memory banks.
He accessed his system files, expecting to find a clear record of his past—locations, events, something—but the moment he tried, a message flickered across his heads-up display:
Error. Data inaccessible.
Wait... what?
Something was wrong. He should have access to that data, shouldn't he?
As strange as it was to find his past locked away, what struck him even more was the realization that he knew how to search for it. He moved through his internal systems with ease, running diagnostics and status checks that suggested he had done it before.
But he didn't remember doing it before.
The entire process felt... displaced. Like an instinct that wasn't entirely his.
Pushing aside the growing unease, he ran a system scan. Everything seemed to be in working order, except for the foreign coding in his processor. His systems were trying to get rid of it, but at the same time, his systems didn't let him touch the coding.
How did that work?
Pegasus Protocols is what they were called.
Finally, deciding he couldn't put it off any longer, he cautiously onlined his ey—optics.
Blinding white light flooded his vision. His ey—optics adjusted in mere seconds, compensating for the harsh fluorescence overhead. His gaze sharpened, scanning the room around him. It became clear that he was confined to a metal slab in some circular structure with a high ceiling.
His gaze roamed over the upper levels of the building, and he could see every small detail, the minuscule cracks in the wall, tiny stains, peeling paint, rusted metal from the ceiling. He could hear the fe—pedes of smaller beings from nearby, and it hurt his ea—audios slightly.
Restraints, thick and reinforced, held his wrists and ankles in place. It made him wonder how much pressure he could exert before they snapped. He could feel the warmth of the power running through his restraints, and his gaze followed it to the console a faceless human stood by.
His gaze snapped back to the figure on his che—chassis, who cleared his throat. The organic was clad in greenish armor, broad-shouldered and stern-faced. His pasty plat—skin was marked with battle-worn scars, and his dull opti—eyes were a shade of brown encircled by white.
Something about him was... off.
He couldn't explain why. There was something about the organic that made something deep in his bra—processor whisper: danger.
The human's der—lips curled upward. "Welcome back to the world of the living, R-1."
"Where a-am I?" His voice was laced with static, distorted from what had to be lack of use. That thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. "Who am I, a-and w-who are you?"
Irritation shot through him. His systems were already working to correct the error, self-repair protocols adjusting his vocal modulator to something more... fitting.
"You are the prototype R-1, of Project Chimera," he stated, folding his ser—hands behind his back. "You are currently in one of MECH's many bases."
R-1? That wasn't his name. Was it?
The organic continued, unbothered by his silence. "I am Silas, the leader of MECH. You, my robotic friend, are the result of our latest experiment."
Experiment.
Emotions—anger? fear? hatred?—brushed against the edges of his awareness, but it was gone before he could process it.
"We have a mission for you."
A strange tension coiled in his bo—frame.
The human uttered four words:
"Chimera. Twelve. Pilar. Eight."
Everything inside him went still and blank. His processor crawled as Pegasus activated, spreading throughout his frame and overriding everything else.
He was R-1.
He served MECH, and only MECH.
He was their weapon and soldier.
He protected Silas.
The only thing that mattered was the mission. Nothing else was important.
"...Ready to comply."
"Excellent." Silas smiled broadly, a gleeful expression on his face. "Your mission is to distract the Autobots—they're like you, but enemies of MECH—while we obtain our other two subjects."
Only the mission.
R-1 nodded in understanding, watching the human's expression and awaiting any other orders. Silas observed him carefully, the human's dull optics scanning over his faceplates, assessing something. He must have found whatever he was looking for, because a satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
The organic gave a small wave of his hand, and the restraints holding him to the metal slab unlocked with a hiss. R-1 held up a servo for his leader to step on, urged by something in him to do so. Dull brown optics narrowed suspiciously, and slowly, the man stepped onto his waiting servo.
The weapon sat up and he lowered his servo to the ground, patiently waiting for Silas to step off. When he did, he straightened and waited for further orders.
"The Autobots will recognize you, but they are deceived by sentiment. You are one of them in appearance, but you belong to us. Your objective is to keep them occupied while we recover our other subjects. Keep them distracted until we secure the others. Understood?"
"Understood." His own voice sounded stronger now. The adjustments to his vocal modulator had finalized, smoothing out any imperfections.
"I want you to transform." There was no need to respond. The words were acknowledged, processed, and stored as directives. R-1 slowly stood up and schematics for an alternate mode appeared in his HUD, uploaded by MECH in his processor.
His frame shifted, gears spun to life, wires pulled and shrunk. Plating shifted and moved. His entire frame contorted into unnatural, impossible angles, folding in on itself. It was familiar, but something in him started screaming that it wasn't right, it was alien! He was going to di—
These thoughts were brushed away as a cold headspace descended over him. His limbs disappeared, and his helm tucked into his chassis, which spread out to form the front of the alternate mode. Tires appeared underneath him, glass covering his insides, engine purring as he sunk to the ground.
His leader started to circle him, eyeing him like a fine prize in a collection. He seemed satisfied once again and nodded.
"Follow us, R-1."
Jonathan Darby drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, surprisingly relaxed for a person in an abandoned mansion that once housed a mafia family (if the stories in Jasper were to be believed), surrounded by grass of a backyard and a rusted playground.
It was a two story house, moss covering the deteriorating grey stone of the mansion. Windows lined many parts of the large, strangely asymmetrical building. Many were hollowed eyes with glass shards resembling wicked fangs.
There was destruction everywhere he looked.
Empty shells of ruined buildings with hollowed windows, staring at him like unseen haunted eyes, surrounded him. Jagged, shards of glass looked like terrible fangs spread into a twisted smile. Black scorch marks covered every surface he looked at.
Pieces of skyscrapers crumbled to the ground, some leaning on others, dragged down by the claws of gravity. Other buildings had long fallen into mountains of rubble. Broken and twisted streets were filled with abandoned, rusting, overturned cars.
Mutilated bodies, faces twisted into silent screams, were left to rot.
He shivered as he recalled the terrible dream, and he could still hear the voice.
You must unite them all...
Jack wasn't sure what that meant, exactly. One moment this voice was telling him he had to suffer, the next, it was talking about uniting them. And he was exactly sure who "them" was. He stared back at the window, at the abandoned swing set in the backyard where they were stationed at an angle, able to see the front.
The old swings creaked in the wind, chains rattling their secrets to the night. It was the kind of place where horror movies started, where bad decisions were made, and Jack had to wonder—why do villains always pick the most cliché places to meet?
His father, of course, didn't seem the least bit unsettled by their surroundings. He never had been, even when they went camping and were attacked by a bear when he was still around. The man had a way of making even the tensest situations seem like nothing more than an inconvenience, brushing off danger like it was an old friend. Jack wasn't sure if that was comforting or just irritating.
"So, sport," the man finally spoke casually. "Does your mom know about the 'friends' you're hanging out with these days?"
The teenager didn't look at the man, instead keeping his gaze locked on the window, watching the empty lot for something interesting to suddenly appear. "Yes," he answered shortly.
Jonathan hummed, tapping the steering wheel again. "Did you introduce her to your girlfriend?"
Jack choked, snapping his head around with a look of pure indignation. "She's not my girlfriend! She's my guardian!"
"Uh-huh, right," he replied, obviously not convinced.
Jack scowled. He didn't need this right now. They were waiting for confirmation from MECH that they actually had their parents, and the Autobots were just down the hill, out of sight but ready to move in the second the signal was given. The fact that they had even agreed to this plan was shocking, considering how much arguing it had taken.
The boy twisted in his seat, glancing back at Miko in the rearview mirror. She was uncharacteristically quiet, hugging herself tightly and staring out the window, lost in whatever haunted thoughts. It made his stomach twist. Miko wasn't the type to sit in silence, especially not in moments like these. He wanted to say something, maybe ask if she was okay, but before he could, Jonathan's voice cut through the silence.
"Jack—"
Jack spun around, irritated, years of resentment boiling over in one second. "Okay, why are you here? Why did you come back after years of leaving us to fend for ourselves? Why?" His voice was angry and hurt, snappier than he intended it to be.
He hated that after everything, after all these years, Jonathan Darby still had the power to get under his skin. The teenager didn't look away, nor did he back down. He wanted answers. And this time, he wasn't letting the man dodge the question.
The moment he saw the man's lips part; he knew a lie was going to come out.
"I don't want to hear a sob story! I want the truth!"
He had spent years wondering where his father had gone, why he had left them, why he had never come back. Jonathan was suddenly here, acting like he had the right to be a father when he had forfeited that role a long time ago.
Absolutely not. He wasn't going to let him get away with it.
The man exhaled through his nose, and he stopped drumming his fingers. "My job was... demanding, Jack," he finally said, flatly. "More demanding than you or your mother ever knew."
A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "Your job. That's the best excuse you have. Is that what you call vanishing without a word? Do you have any idea what we went through? What Mom went through?! You chose your job over us!
His jaw tightened, but he didn't lash out. Instead, he turned his head slightly, watching Jack with an unreadable expression. "I was protecting both of you."
The teenager's nostrils flared. "Protecting us from what?"
Jonathan's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.
"No! You do not get to do this! You don't get to show up out of nowhere and feed me lies like I'm supposed to just accept it!" His breath quickened, and his body was shaking with anger, hands curling into fists. "If you're not gonna give me a real answer, then I'm done here!"
When the man didn't react, he had the briefest moment of an overwhelming urge to grab his father and shake the answers out of him. Jonathan's next words made his blood run cold.
"What are you going to do, Jack? Use that increased strength of yours on me?"
He felt like he had been slapped. "How... how do you know about that?"
"It's not just strength, is it? You're faster now. More durable. Your senses are sharper. Presumably your reaction time has improved. Lately, your chest has been hurting. It's intense, almost unbearable."
Jack's mouth was dry. His skin crawled. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to run. Something was wrong.
His hand shot for the door handle.
The sound of the car doors locking sent a jolt of fear down his spine.
He immediately reached for his phone, in the cupholder, trying to call the Autobots. The man was faster. In a blink, he snatched the phone away, all while keeping the same, unnervingly calm expression.
"You- you're with MECH," he gasped, twisting in his seat and pressing his back against the window. His eyes caught the sight of Miko in the backseat, who raised her fist, bringing it up toward the car window, ready to slam it against the glass.
"I wouldn't do that if you want your family to stay alive."
The exchange student froze.
The traitor resumed drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "Get out of this car, and they die. Alert the Autobots in this moment, and they die."
His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. "Why?"
Jonathan sighed, leaning back in his seat more comfortably. "You were a mistake, Jack."
Jack felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
"I never wanted a kid. You were an accident, an unintended consequence of something much greater. I tried for a while. I really did. But the truth is, the only reason I ever stayed was for her." He paused, closing his eyes with a smile on his face. "June. She was the real prize.
"Your mother," he went on, "was everything a man could ever want. Loving. Patient. Kind. Strong. She had this unwavering determination, and this— this fire in her that could light up even the darkest of days. She was smart, resilient, capable. Too good for me, really. But she loved me. And I loved her. She was the only one I ever truly loved."
He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes again.
"You? I never wanted you."
The teenager couldn't breathe.
"I didn't say anything, because I didn't dare ruin what I had with her. I told myself I could make it work, and maybe I could learn to care. But it never happened. And as much as I hated leaving, it was necessary." His tone remained maddeningly level, like he wasn't dropping a bombshell on his own son.
"Yes, my job took priority for noble reason. I wanted to keep MECH away from her. If they knew about her, she would have been dragged into something she had no business being part of. And I wanted her to have a normal life."
His chest felt tight, like it was caving in on itself.
Blue eyes turned to look at him, unreadable. "But I'm going to save your life, Jack. We all know you're dying. Your body is changing, and it's killing you. But MECH can fix that."
Jonathan's lips curled into something that might have been a smile, if it wasn't so empty.
"You'll be saved. And not only that, you'll serve a better purpose. You won't just be some kid wasting away in the middle of Jasper, Nevada. You'll matter." He tilted his head slightly. "You might even make me proud."
The man glanced at something beyond the windshield. "Oh, it seems they're here."
Two black vans pulled through two of the pillars adorning the entry way of the mansion, two angels on their tippytoes, backs arching so that their wings touched and formed the top of the arch, holding their hands up to the heavens. Real spiritual, he thought.
The doors to the vans slid open simultaneously and out poured MECH soldiers, weapons at the ready. He was the last one to emerge from the van, sharp eyes sweeping over the large, grassy entrance with a winding driveway leading to the old mansion, searching for them most likely.
Jack pretended not to see them, hissing venomously, "Mom would never forgive you for this." His throat burned, but he pushed past the tightness. "She doesn't even want you."
The MECH agent chuckled softly, a rich, amused sound that sent a chill down his spine. "What June doesn't know won't hurt her." His voice was playful. "Besides, I'll be there to comfort her in the tragic event of your... death."
His rage ignited, vision tunneled, breathing uneven as he glared at the man who dared to call himself his father.
Jonathan barely seemed concerned. If anything, he looked pleased with himself.
His lip curled. "You're disgusting."
"Oh, but I'm thorough, Jack."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I already took out the competition," he remarked casually, chuckling quietly. "Your friend William Fowler has been... neutralized. If that idiot goon did his job right, that is."
His nose wrinkled. "Fowler?"
The man rolled his eyes like Jack had just asked a painfully obvious question.
"She and William were getting too close to my liking," he drawled.
Wait—hold on—what?
A sickening realization twisted in his gut, and a horrified shudder crawled up his spine. Ew. His mother and Fowler? He had never even considered—
Just what had happened in the week he was gone?!
But then the implications of the words that the traitor just said hit him. "You've been spying on us?" he gasped, staring at the man with wide-eyed shock.
Jonathan gave him a pointed look, exasperated.
"Not you, sport," he corrected, with a patronizing air. "On June." He sighed, shaking his head. "I always stayed close and always kept an eye on her. And, of course, I made sure to scare off any man who got too close."
This man had been lurking in the shadows of their lives all along. Watching. Manipulating. Controlling. He was obsessive and cruel, not caring what happened to those around him. Mom had once told him he could be like a vulture when he wanted something, really wanted something. The teenager realized he wanted his mom back and was doing everything in his power to get her back.
Jonathan casually extended the phone back to Jack, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Now, sport, you're going to contact the Autobots when you see June, okay?"
Jack slowly took the phone from his hand and spat, "Go to hell."
The traitor only sighed, shaking his head in what looked like disappointment, like he were some unruly child throwing a tantrum! His disinterest only made the teenager's rage burn hotter.
"You really shouldn't disrespect your father," Jonathan chided, tsking.
Hotness started to burn in his chest once more, every fiber of his being screaming at him to lash out, to fight, to do something—
"You're not my father!" Jack seethed, snarling at him.
Jonathan only hummed. "Silas wants to test his new weapon out. R-1, he calls it," he mused. "The perfect meld of man and machine."
Jack's blood turned to ice. Silas's words came rushing back with a horrifying vividness:
"Since your Autobot friend destroyed our original prototype, we've been forced to innovate. We want our Transformers. And you, Jack... you and Miko and that runt... are going to be the replacements."
No.
No, no, no, no!
They did it.
They actually did it.
His vision swam. His breath came in shallow gasps, and the car suddenly felt impossibly small, the walls closing in. He couldn't move, he couldn't think.
A strangled sound came from behind him, causing him to turn around.
Miko's eyes wide with horror. She knew what this meant, and what they had done to Raf. It was going to happen to them. They were next.
"Now," the MECH agent said lightly, "out you go."
Slowly, both of them exited the car and were forced to walk up to the contingent of MECH soldiers. When they stopped a few feet away, Silas started to speak.
"I must admit," the cruel man mused, sounding somewhat amused, "I didn't think you'd go through with it, Jonathan. I was hesitant to allow you to handle this mission your way. But you've pleasantly surprised me." His lips quirked upward. "Selling out your own flesh and blood is impressive."
Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, well," he drawled, "I've always been the best."
Jack wanted to scream. Instead, he pulled Miko close to him, protectively. He'd rather die than let her get hurt again.
"Now," the man demanded, "where's June?"
Silas brought a walkie-talkie to his mouth, murmuring an order into it. The low rumble of another vehicle reached their ears. A third van rolled up, the doors sliding open, and one solder stepped out, dragging a limp figure between them.
"Mom!" he screamed, lunging forward, desperation overriding every other instinct but before he could even take two steps, a firm hand clamped down on his arm, yanking him back.
The teenager twisted violently, desperate to get free of the grip but the traitor's didn't budge an inch. His entire focus zeroed in on her, rage boiling when he took in her appearance.
She was barely standing, half-dragged toward Silas. Her nurse's scrubs were torn and ragged, dark stains across the fabric. Bruises ruined her fair skin, angry and swollen, and a gash on her forehead dripped fresh blood down the side of her face.
Her usually neat ponytail had come undone, damp hair hanging in tangled clumps, matted with sweat and dirt. She was shaking, but she looked relieved to see them.
"Jack..." Her voice was weak and terrifyingly quiet, she barely even seemed conscious.
"You bastards!" Miko shouted, glaring at them hatefully.
Silas seemed to finally notice them. "Well," he said smoothly, completely unfazed by the venomous glares sent his way, "Jack and Miko, you're looking well." Neither of them missed the sarcasm in his tone.
A string of vicious curses hurled in his direction. Cybertronian, English and Japanese curses. If Jack knew more than one language, or all the languages, he'd curse the bastard in every single one.
MECH's leader merely chuckled. "So lively."
"Where's my host parents?!" Miko demanded hotly, glaring at him.
Two more MECH soldiers emerged from the van, dragging two figures between them. The Japanese girl's host parents, Mrs. and Mr. Davis, looked awful.
Mrs. Davis hung limply in the soldier's grip, head lolling to the side, completely unconscious. Dark bruises marred her face, and blood stained the collar of her bright blouse. Her chest fluttered weakly, the only sign she was alive.
Mr. Davis looked just as bad, if not worse. His clothes were torn, large gashes revealing his skin underneath. His thin hair was burnt and frizzy, blood running down the side of his head. Older blood stained his clothing, cuts and bruises peeking out from the ruined clothing. His hands were tied behind his back, but he was fighting against the grip of his captor with every ounce of strength he had left.
The moment his eyes landed on Miko; his face softened with relief. "Miko!" he called out, ceasing his fighting. "Are you okay?"
The girl gave a shaky nod. "Yeah," she assured weakly.
"What's going on?" he demanded. "They didn't tell us anything."
Miko bit her lip and then opened her mouth but before she could even begin to explain, Silas spoke.
"Where are the Autobots, girl?"
"Autobots?" Mr. Davis looked confused. "From your science fiction club?" He was ignored.
The exchange student snapped her head toward him, eyes narrowing into hateful slits.
"They're not here," she bit out.
Silas scoffed. "Don't lie to me." He turned his gaze toward the darkened landscape, as if expecting their robotic allies to emerge from the shadows at any moment. "I know they're here," he said, a twisted smile playing at his lips. "And I want to test my latest innovation against them."
Jack's gut twisted.
Raf...
What had MECH done to him?
Jonathan, standing beside him, nudged him lightly with his elbow. It was subtle, but Jack knew what it meant.
Contact the Autobots.
The teenager slipped his hand into his pocket, pressing the emergency button Ratchet had installed on the side. The button had managed to put in place given the limited time they had before everything had gone to hell, and it was to alert them when they had conformation on the targets. Aka their parents.
"Come here, girl," Silas beckoned, waving hand.
"Don't listen to him!" Mr. Davis yelled, managing to wrench himself free from the soldier's grip and launched himself at Silas, fist connecting with the cruel man's face. It didn't seem to bother the man at all, and he retaliated with an elbow into his gut, before slamming a fist down against the back of his head.
Mr. Davis's eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground with a thud.
"MR. DAVIS!" Miko shrieked, launching herself forward. A solder grabbed her by the arm, and grabbed her other limb, securing the flailing girl, who spat curses at him.
Jack snarled, his chest burning painfully, stepping forward with all intent to punch the bastard in the face but he was again stopped by the man who he once thought was his father.
"Now then," he mused, turning back to Jack and Miko. "Let's see how long it takes for your metal friends to show up."
Bumblebee was sick of MECH.
Just like the Decepticons, they were takers. They took, and they took, and they never stopped taking.
They had taken Breakdown, ripped him apart, and dissected him like he was nothing more than a science experiment.
They had stolen his T-cog, violating his very being in a twisted attempt to create their own Cybertronian abomination.
They had taken the children again.
And this time, they had gone even further. They had taken the children's families, holding them hostage, doing who knew what to them.
But worst of all...
They had hurt Raf.
He could still see the video MECH had sent them just over a cycle ago.
His small frame trembled, glasses crooked and smeared with grime. His face was pale and streaked with tears, bruises mottled his skin, cuts oozed crimson trails down his arms, and his lip was split. He cried out in spark-wrenching, desperate, terrified sobs.
"¡Por favor, no más! Please, stop! No more, por favor!" Raf screamed, twisting against the bindings, but it was clear he lacked the strength to free himself.
The recording showed a bald man in a white coat sitting on a chair, reaching out with a gloved hand, dragging a scalpel across Raf's exposed arm. Blood trickled down his skin as Raf shrieked, jerking in pain. His cries became incoherent, a jumble of pleading and wailing that echoed painfully in the Autobots' audial receptors.
He had never despised something with every fiber of his being, except for Megatron of course. And he wasn't the only one.
The entire team had seen that video. They had all heard the poor boy's screams, and it had ignited something dark in all of them. Even Optimus, ever the calm and composed leader, had been seething. He had punched the wall!
When they finally discovered MECH's base of operations, Starscream, of all mechs, had taken Raf. He didn't know what the Seeker was doing to Raf, or why he had taken him in the first place. And that uncertainty was driving him insane.
Right now he would have to force himself to focus. Just up the hill, past the tree line at the abandoned house, MECH was waiting. They had called for a trade. Return the children, and they would return their parents.
As if the Autobots would ever allow that to happen. After a lot of convincing on the children's part, they managed to persuade them, and with the limited time they had, they couldn't come up with a foolproof plan. Ratchet had managed to install a panic button on both of their phones for Jack or Miko to press and call them, whether they had the adults or not.
But they needed to make sure MECH had actually brought them. That was the only reason they were playing along, waiting at the rendezvous point instead of tearing through their ranks and ripping them apart like they deserved.
Bumblebee felt it was taking too long, and it made his spark thrum uneasily, anxiety welling up. Something wasn't right. The longer they waited, the more that uneasy feeling settled deep in his spark.
What if MECH had already taken them? What if, while they were just sitting here, waiting for the right moment, MECH had already stolen them away right under their olfactory sensors?
An alert popped on his HUD, signaling that MECH had them. June Darby and Mr. and Mrs. Davis. His engine roared as he tore up the hill, kicking up dirt and grass in his mad dash toward the top. As soon as he reached the top, he transformed mid-motion, plating and gears snapping back into place.
The plating on his forearm clicked back, and his wrist-mounted blasters unfolded, powering with a whirr. He leveled them at the monster standing so smugly below. The other Autobots weren't far behind.
With a thunderous chorus of revving engines and shifting metal, Arcee, Bulkhead, and Optimus emerged from the tree line, transforming in perfect sync. Bumblebee's optics scanned the area, and he noticed Jack was near his sire and Miko was being held by a MECH lackey.
Then he noticed the shape of their human friend's creators, making him seethe at the bloody, bruised shape of the humans. MECH treated no one well.
The soldiers raised their weapons at them, fingers just shy of the triggers, waiting for a command.
Standing there calmly, was the leader of MECH, hands clasped behind his back. His expression was pleased, like he had been expecting them.
"Autobots," the man greeted, sounding amused. "Welcome."
As he spoked, a bright orange Corvette pulled into the driveway and transformed. Plating shifted and rearranged, a helm coming from the chassis and limbs emerged, snapping into place. The next thing Bumblebee knew was the terrible screech of metal and the dizzying blur of colors, dirt and metal as he tumbled violently downwards.
Somewhere above, he heard Arcee. "Bumblebee!"
Locked in a violent struggle with MECH's monstrosity, servos digging into armor, each trying to get the upper hand. He twisted around, bracing his pedes against the creature's chassis and kicking with all the force he could muster. The impact sent the abomination flying, tumbling backward in an uncontrolled spiral before it finally slammed into the ground, rolling a few feet away.
Bumblebee didn't waste a nano-klik. He flipped back onto his pedes, shaking the dirt off of himself. Aiming his wrist-mounted blaster, he aimed them at it. Out of the corner of his optic, he noticed Arcee transforming from her alt-mode, landing gracefully next to him. Together, they turned to face their opponent, who was rising to its pedes.
Bumblebee got his first real look at the mech.
Its frame was clean, no scars, no dents, no scratches. There wasn't any vicious features about it, something that surprised him. No claws, no sharp armor, no spikes. He thought MECH would have built something more intimidating.
No taller than him, it was a slender frame with a fiery orange (an odd color for MECH) and bold hot red lines tracing along the seams of its plating. Doorwings similar to his, suspended from its upper back, and thin audial fins extended from either side of its helm.
A blue glow peered out from underneath a thin, tinted red visor, hiding its optics. Its silver faceplates were framed by orange armor in a way that was... familiar. In fact, this mech's face seemed oddly—
Pain exploded through his helm as the mech's fist connected hard with his face, helm snapping back as he staggered. He barely had time to recover from the blow before the thing was on him, bringing its knee up and burying it into his chassis.
Bumblebee choked out a static-laced grunt, stepping back before it could follow up.
The creature's servos transformed into twin cannons. Arcee and Bumblebee barely managed to duck out of the way before it unleashed a volley of energon. He fired another round of projectiles, this time concentrating them on the femme.
Arcee weaved through the energon with dizzying acrobatics, landing long enough to activate her arm-blades. It slammed into her, and the force alone was enough to send her skidding backward, pedes digging into the dirt as she tried to find purchase.
The creature attacked her again, aiming toward her midsection, but she deflected, twisting her forearm to redirect the strike. The klik she committed to the block; it drove its other elbow into her exposed side. The femme stepped back with cry.
She evaded a few more strikes before two energy blades slid out of its wrist armor, crackling with electricity, came down on her, forcing her to raise her own in defense. It twisted its blades, forcing her arms down, exposing her chest.
The cobalt femme stepped back as he slashed at her, barely avoiding what could've been a painful wound. It twisted around to land a kick against her side, causing her to stumble back.
The scout fired at MECH's creation as it turned its attention to him. It spun, twisting under his shot, and its pede snapped up, catching him under the chin.
He crashed into the dirt with pained cry, slamming into the earth harshly. Arcee launched herself at it, arm-blades screeching against its forearms with a screech of metal on metal. Sparks flew, leaving a thin line.
Its first scar.
It caught Arcee's wrist and yanked her forward, driving its knee into her abdomen. The cobalt femme doubted over in pain, hissing as she was sent flying over the creature's shoulder, landing a few feet away.
It continued to advance on the femme, and Bumblebee scrambled to his pedes, aiming a shot that would take off its helm—
"—Stop! It's—argh—!" Jack's panicked tone came through his commlink, followed by a grunt of pain. Arcee struggled to her pedes, listening to the same message as him. "That thing you're fighting—it's Raf! MECH did something to him— no!" The line cut abruptly but Bumblebee paid no mind to it, completely and utterly shocked.
Arcee had the same wide-opticed look on her face. "That's not possible..."
It cost her as she was punched square in the face by Raf, forcing her into stasis. He didn't go for the kill and instead turned around to look at him.
Bumblebee felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. The mech before him was all so strikingly reminiscent of someone he knew. Someone he never thought he'd see like this. His mind screamed at him to reject the impossibility of what he was seeing. But there it was, staring at him in the face.
The thin red visor reminded him of those glasses constantly sliding down Raf's nose, the bright orange was the shirt he used to wear, the faceplates framed by armor in a familiar way—they were all Raf's. Oh Primus, what had MECH done to him?
It hurt more when he saw a cold, unrecognizing gaze, devoid of the warmth and intelligence he had always known. He felt like someone had stabbed in him the spark, and it made him want to howl in rage at those monster that did this to his friend.
The violent urge to tear Silas apart with his own bare servos and hunt down every last member of MECH to make them pay for what they did to his friend was almost overwhelming.
Bumblebee felt it first in his spark, a horrible, all-consuming burn that seared through his fuel lines. It spread fast, creeping into every wire, every piston, every gear, scorching him from the inside out. Fury coursed through him; white-hot rage ignited by the sight of those empty optics.
The young mech abruptly glanced up toward the top of the hill. He transformed, headed straight for the battlefield above.
"No! Raf—"
"No!" Jack yelled in frustration when his phone died. He had it charged when he came here! Why had it drained so fast?
The ground shook beneath him as Bulkhead fell like a tree to the ground after one too many of those electro darts embedded in his frame, knocking him out cold. Optimus was in a similar state, being electrocuted by these darts, but he was fairing better than the Wrecker.
MECH had been prepared.
Jack Darby frantically searched for Miko and Mom, who had been lost to him when the battle started. Multiple sportscars filled with armed MECH soldiers had pulled up when Bumblebee was thrown off the hill with an orange mech that he had realized was Raf.
It made him feel horrified knowing that his friend was fighting against the Autobots. What had MECH done to him?
His eyes scanned the field, searching for his friend. He noticed the traitor running about, most likely searching for June. Jack spotted his mom, weak and pale, the same time the man did, and he started to dash for her when arms wrapped around his torso, yanking him back.
"Let me go!" he screamed, thrashing against the two goons. They grunted, struggling against his enhanced strength as they dragged him toward the open doors of a black van. He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to fight back.
No. No, no, no—
He wouldn't go back! Never!
Something firm gripped his hair, threatening to rip the greasy locks from their roots. He flinched when he suddenly felt warm air ghost against his ear, making his skin crawl.
"Jack," Silsa murmured, having that tone that promised nothing but pain. "You humiliated me. You cost me time. Resources. Money." His tone darkened. "Now, you see, I'm a patient man. But I don't take kindly to those who hurt me, especially when I was doing favors for them."
Favors?! Favors! What favors? All he ever did was torture them, watch him patiently until he screamed, and he would make him scream until his throats gave out, and smile when his head fell forward in defeat, all energy drained from him.
He didn't care what Silas wanted. He didn't care about his resources, his time, or his twisted sense of justice. All he cared about was getting out of here, with his mom and Miko, alive.
"Jack!" His mom spotted him, eyes widening in horror as she spotted him.
Silas' lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. And then, he pulled out a gun.
"I had fun taking my grievances out on her," he mused, tilting his head. "She has the loveliest voice—"
"You bastard!" Jack snarled, rage igniting like an inferno inside him. His entire body trembled with fury, heat rising in his chest and spreading like wildfire. "Leave her out of this!"
Silas's smile deepened.
"Consider us even," he said coolly, raising the gun. A clap of thunder followed.
Everything happened too fast and too slow. The world seemed to fade out of existence, leaving only him and her.
His mom's eyes widened in shock, a choked noise escaping her lips. She looked worse than before, lips quivering as her hand slowly reached for her middle. Her hand came back bloody from the gunshot wound in her stomach.
Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the ground.
"NO!"
Jack wasn't sure if he screamed or not. Jonathan rushed over to her side, holding her limp body close to himself.
His vision went green, his body burning and tingling, fury clouding his thoughts, overtaking everything but one singular instinct—
Kill.
With an animalistic snarl, he ripped himself free from both soldier's grip, grabbing one by the arm and sending him flying over his shoulder. The other many didn't have time to react as Jack snatched the knife from his belt, fingers curling around the hilt. It felt like a second nature.
Kill.
Silas was caught off guard by the sudden break for freedom—
The blade sliced through the air, aiming straight for the bastard's throat—
He moved last second, and it plunged deep into his shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain. Something slammed into the side of Jack's head. Pain exploded through his skull, vision flashing white as his body crumpled like a ragdoll.
The last thing he saw before everything went black was his mother's unmoving form cradled tightly in Jonathan's arms.
Kill.
Bumblebee saw Raf maneuvering through the backyard of the abandoned building, and without hesitation, he followed the young mech as he heard a scream, a terrible scream. He pushed it to the side, determined to get Raf.
He had to.
The chase led them beyond the battlefield of the mansion, through the open grassland, and towards the highway with not even a car in sight. It was late out, very late. Pavement replaced dirt as they burst onto the highway.
The scout saw Optimus up ahead, following three black vans, holding Jack and Miko. Gunfire was erupting from the sides of the vehicles. MECH agents, perched at the open doors, were unloading rounds into the Autobot leader.
The bullets didn't penetrate Optimus's thick armor, but the barrage was leaving visible dents across his plating.
Bumblebee pushed harder to catch up.
Plating on Raf's form started to shift as he sped up, launching into the air. The moment his wheels left the pavement, he transformed mid-air and grabbed onto the semi-truck tightly, causing the Autobot leader to swerve.
Tires screeched against the asphalt as the Prime struggled to compensate for the sudden, unexpected weight. The force sent him veering toward the highway shoulder, dangerously close to losing control. The young mech slammed a fist into the semi-truck. Metal crunched and caved in, revealing sparking wires as the Prime cried out.
No. Nonononono! Raf was attacking Optimus! He had to stop this. He had to stop Raf.
|"Bumblebee, the children!"| Optimus ordered into their comm, struggling to keep control.
The scout hesitated but he forced himself to focus on getting their human allies. They couldn't allow them to fall into MECH's hands again.
He accelerated and took the lead, drawing up alongside the first van. Inside, there were soldiers but not their partners. The soldiers immediately started firing at him, shouting to one another over the roaring wind.
Bumblebee was forced to get directly behind the van to avoid the bullets, waiting until they stopped firing to move again. The moment he came into sight, the soldier sticking out of the right van attempted to fire at him again, but there was a click.
The soldier swore loudly as the scout slammed into the side of the vehicle. The van skidded, causing the soldiers inside to lose their footing and dropping their weapons. The van swerved dangerously close to the highway's edge before it righted itself once again.
He slammed into the vehicle again, harder this time. The entire side panel of the van caved inward, metal crumpling under the attack. He slammed a third time, putting every ounce of his strength into the hit.
The van lost control, lurching off the highway. It ended up crashing into a bolder, halting the vehicle in its tracks and causing the entire front to crumple.
The scout was already being fired on as he drew closer to the second van, clinking and sparking against his plating. Bumblebee positioned himself directly behind the van and transformed, jumping atop the ceiling of the black vehicle.
The metal groaned in protest to his weight, caving in slightly. There were shouts from inside and the scout leaned over, plucking a soldier out from the side. The faceless human shrieked in terror, begging for mercy.
The scout dropped him on the asphalt, watching as the man tumbled head over heel before coming to a halt. His form quickly disappeared, and he found it oddly satisfying. He didn't think it was killing them either. Bumblebee continued this process until there was only the driver left, and he jumped in front of the car, transforming.
The van braked in response to the sudden move, causing it to lose control. He didn't bother to watch its fate as he set his sights on the final van with the kids in it.
One more to go.
Silas spared a glance at the two unconscious teenagers slumped against the walls of the van, jostling slightly with every bump in the road. He hissed in pain from the throbbing wound the brat had inflicted on him.
It was a surprise to see one of his men go flying over Darby's head and landing on the ground, groaning in pain. The next thing he knew, there were angry, glowing green eyes boring into him with an absolute feralness that caught him off guard.
His instincts honed over years of combat, kicked in and he easily disposed of the brat. Silas could give the boy credit for trying. He never seemed to know when to give up, which was an admirable yet infuriating trait.
But he wasn't about to let a child ruin his plans yet again.
Not when everything was going according to plan.
R-1 had done his job brilliantly, keeping the two Autobots Arcee and Bumblebee distracted long enough for MECH to disable Bulkhead. The electro-darts had worked exactly as intended, just as they had when they'd taken the brats. Though just taking down the lug had nearly drained their supply.
The large green bot had required almost every last dart to bring down.
They had used the rest of the darts on the Prime, who had fared slightly better. It had stunned him temporarily, but it had been just long enough for MECH to drag the unconscious teenagers into the van and get out.
And then there was his little personal victory.
Jack Darby's mother was dead.
There was almost no chance she had survived. A gut shot at that range? It was laughable to think she could have held on for more than a few minutes. By now, she would have bled out. It was poetic, really.
A crash from behind yanked the leader of MECH from his thoughts. He snapped his gaze to the rearview mirror and cursed when he saw the yellow Camaro slamming into the side of another van. The vehicle flipped and rolled off the road in a spectacular wreck of crumpling metal and shattering glass.
The van before that was also missing, the one containing the Davis family. Disposable, but annoying all the same.
That persistent little bug was nothing but troublesome. He was the one who cost him his original Transformer in the first place, and he had not forgotten about it.
Grinding his teeth, the man grabbed his walkie-talkie and brought it to his lips.
"R-1, take care of the Camaro trailing us."
His men forced the back door open, aiming their weapons at the oncoming Autobot. Wind rushed into the confined space, howling through the interior as the soldiers braced themselves against the doorframe.
A storm of bullets tore through the air as they unloaded round after round into the night. It didn't seem to faze the Autobot, who kept coming faster.
The van shuddered, nearly lifting onto two wheels as the Autobot slammed into it. It caused his soldiers to lose their balance, nearly dropping their weapons.
This was going to be a problem.
Another impact sent it veering dangerously toward the highway's shoulder.
"Hurry up!" he barked into the radio. The persistent little bug just would not quit.
Just as quickly as Bumblebee had appeared in the rearview mirror, he was gone. The sudden absence confused him until he saw a flash of orange. He leaned over to see the left rearview mirror, seeing both vehicles transforming, mechanical bodies unfolding in a rapid series of shifting gears and moving panels.
There were two red optics, but they quickly disappeared.
The pesky bug screamed.
It was a horrible high-pitched sound, distorted with static. The source of his pain was an energy weapon extending from R-1's wrist. Electricity arced through the scout's frame, lighting up the night with a yellow-blue light, illuminating the grim silhouette of his attacker.
The scout's optics dimmed to almost black.
R-1 shifted back into its alt-mode, tires rejoining them.
Silas frowned.
R-1 had an opportunity to finish the scout off. But he had let him live. Something about that didn't sit right.
MECH's leader shoved the thought aside.
It didn't matter. What did matter was Autobots had suffered another loss, and MECH was going to win.
A deep, endless void surrounded him, weightless and vast, as though he were drifting in the space between existence and oblivion.
Optimus...
The voice was ancient yet familiar. It echoed through the abyss, gentle yet insistent, pulling at his fractured consciousness.
Optimus... awaken, my Prime...
Warmth wrapped around him, coaxing him from the depths of unconsciousness, luring him toward the painful light of awareness.
Pain crashed into him setting every axon alight with agony. Error messages flooded his HUD, blaring red alerts into his optics. Damage reports appeared on his heads-up display, and he winced when he saw the damage. He would need medical care.
The worst of it radiated from his abdomen. The plating there had been crushed and torn open, wires exposed and sparking erratically. That was where Rafael had struck him. It hurt more knowing that a child was turned into a puppet for MECH, and a soldier where an innocent child should have stood.
MECH had done exactly what Wheeljack had said.
They turned Raf into one of them. The monstrous violation of life made rage simmer beneath his pain. And not only had they violated that, they did something to Rafael's mind, stripping away his free will. Cold, unrecognizing optics had bore into him before energy descended on him and turned his world black.
Whatever MECH had done to Raf, they had taken him and twisted him. Destroyed what made him him. And that was unforgiveable.
Optimus gritted his denta as he forced his optics online. The world came back in staticky, broken pieces, pixel by pixel, until the disorienting haze began to clear.
|"—mus! Do you read me? I have June, and I'm taking her to the hospital! We're almost there. She's really wounded!"|
"Ah—A-Arcee..." His voice was rough and static-laced. He was forced to reset his voice box, recalibrating the output until it was functional again. "What happened?"
"Silas," was her curt reply.
He merely groaned in response.
The sound of terrified screamed reached his audios. Optimus forced himself upright as sparks flickered from torn cables. His HUD continued to blare warnings, but he ignored them.
The sight he saw would haunt him for the rest of his existence.
Bumblebee loomed over a MECH operative, optics burning with a hatred he had seen one too many times on many different faces. His optics were red, red like the very enemy they had spent stellar cycles fighting.
The human cowered beneath him, shaking, hands feebly raised as if that could stop the inevitable. Bumblebee's blasters were aimed at him. "Where are they taking the children?!" he snarled.
"I-I can't understand you!" the man squeaked.
"Bumblebee!"
Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, he forced himself to his pedes and crossed the distance in a startling amount of time, seizing Bumblebee by the shoulder and yanking him backward, away from the terrified human. The scout stumbled, optics flashing in pure, unchecked rage as he whipped around to face his Prime.
"What are you doing?" the Guardian Knight demanded, disappointed.
"I'm getting results!" the scout snapped.
Optimus's spark clenched. "This is not the way," he said, shaking his helm. "You're making yourself no better than the aggressors we fight."
Bumblebee bristled, but he was unmoved, even as the rage-filled field of the scout licked against his. "No better?!" he barked. "I'm getting results faster than you ever could! I'm doing what you won't! I am going to pound Silas into the ground for what he did to Raf, for what he did to all of them! And I don't care about Galloway, or the treaty, or whatever moral high ground you want to stand on!
The scout suddenly laughed, bitterly. "Oh, wait! The treaty doesn't even exist anymore! Galloway already made sure of that! He hates us! He made sure that everything we do is wrong!"
Optimus remained still.
"You won't do this, just like you wouldn't with Megatron."
The words hung between them, heavy. The scout glared at him, daring him to argue.
Optimus did not. Instead, he sighed, his expression filled with something even worse than anger. "You will remain at the base until you have control over your emotions." It was final. "You will not engage in the field until you understand what it means to be an Autobot again."
The Guardian Knight slowly gestured to the wreckage. "This is what your results have achieved," he said mournfully, gesturing to the unconscious, limp forms of Mr. and Mrs. Davis, laying sprawled on the ground.
Bumblebee's optics widened in horror. Then, slowly, their color began to cool. The red faded and was replaced by a cool blue. All the anger drained from his field, leaving only guilt.
Wordlessly, he turned away and he bent down, ignoring his screaming frame and scooped up the unconscious couple with the gentlest care. He held them close and with a deep, pained vent, he transformed.
The movement was painful—every shifting plate sent agony rippling through his frame—but he bore it for them. He gently strapped the humans into his cab, securing them with the seatbelts.
"Ratchet, prepare a GroundBridge. I am en route."
|"Understood. Stand by."|
Optimus looked at Bumblebee one last time and only saw blue optics filled with shame.
Fowler is not dead.
Bumblebee with red optics was inspired by the movie, which I doing fascinating.