Wheeljack still couldn't believe it. That stupid fleshling actually thought he could just take Miko away after they had just gotten her back? Oh, slag no. He wasn't about to let some high-strung afthole rip here away, while he was sent to some boring, isolated rock in the middle of nowhere. Die-ago Garry, or whatever those hoo-mans called it. Didn't matter.
The bottom line was: Miko wasn't going anywhere. And neither was he. It wasn't like he was part of Team Prime anyway. He didn't have to follow their rules. In his book, rules were meant to be broken. And this? This was a rule that definitely needed some breaking. A lot of breaking.
It didn't take long before he came to the girl's place, and he found himself parked in front of a modest-looking dwelling. The neighborhood was quiet, and it made him twitchy. Ugh, he hated places like this. There was no action, no explosions. Just boring, fleshy life chugging along at its sluggish, predictable pace.
He needed to get Miko out of here.
Wheeljack revved his engine before laying on his horn hard, the loud, blaring sound shattering the early evening silence. If that didn't get her attention, nothing would.
A few seconds later, movement caught his attention. The window on the top floor swung open, the strange fabric cover—what did they call it? Curtains?—fluttering as it was shoved aside.
Bulk's partner's head popped out, wild, pink-streaked hair even more disheveled than usual, eyes darting around before locking onto him. And just like that, her entire face lit up. She disappeared from the window, and not even a full minute later, the front door slammed open. She shot out of the house like a missile, barely pausing long enough to yell something over her shoulder.
"I'm just going to Sierra's party! Jack invited me!"
From inside the house, a skeptical voice called back. "Really?"
"Yup! He texted me!" the kid hollered back.
"Miko!" A woman with brown hair and colorful fabrics covering her thin frame popped into the door, causing the girl to pause halfway in her advance. "Who's that?"
"A friend."
The human looked skeptical. "Be careful!"
Miko mustered a small grin, waving. "Be back before midnight!"
"Ten o'clock!"
"Okay!"
The Wrecker snorted internally. He didn't know much about human parenting, but he was pretty sure Miko had just lied through her denta. It didn't bother him, rules were meant to be broken, after all.
He swung open his passenger door the moment the girl reached him, barely waiting for her to scramble inside before slamming it shut again. He was more than ready to peel out of this boring neighborhood and leave it in a cloud of dust.
Her usually bright, mischievous expression was dampened, and her eyes were red and puffy, which were signs of a human who'd been... what was the word? Lubricating? No, wait—crying. That made his energon boil.
If Bulk didn't want to take care of her because of some stupid fleshbag with stupid rules, he would. His friend had gotten soft on him.
In the week he stayed after the whole Makeshift fiasco, he found that he really liked the kid. She was loud, reckless and fearless. She threw herself into dangerous without a second thought (something he had witnessed when she snuck through a GroundBridge into a 'Con battle), a tiny, stubborn ball of pure, unshakeable energy. She was Wrecker through and through.
She was even better today when they went dune bashing, and when she drew him for a reason he couldn't comprehend. He just went with it to make her happy, especially after knowing what trauma MECH had put her through.
And now she was crying here because of that fleshbag who thought he could control everything had ripped her away from what made her happy. He didn't get to voice any of this, though, because the moment she settled into the seat, she threw her arms up and grinned at his dashboard like nothing had happened.
"Jackie!"
That single word, filled with so many emotions at once, made his spark sing. Something warm and strange curled in his spark at the sheer joy in her voice. She sounded so happy to see him, like he was the best thing to happen to her all day. He probably was.
Maybe that was why he liked this kid so much. Why he didn't mind breaking a few (or a lot) of rules for her. He wasn't sure why, and honestly? He didn't care.
"Hang tight, kid," he spoke through his speakers. "Hope you don't mind a little turbulence."
Miko snorted. "Dude, have you met me? Step on it!"
Wheeljack chuckled, and that was all the encouragement he needed. His tires screeched against the pavement as he gunned it, the sudden burst of speed making Miko whoop excitedly as they tore down the street.
The kid loved the thrill, and he was more than happy to deliver. He let the speedometer tick down a few notches, just enough that they weren't pushing every speed limit known to mankind, just for the sake of not being given a ticket by one of those fleshies in those blinky cars. Wouldn't be the first time that happened.
Miko eventually spoke up after her high had dulled. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Bu—" she choked on the words, and the Wrecker pretended not to notice, "—the Autobots were being shipped out."
He had never, ever heard her struggle to say Bulkhead's name before. In the short time he had known her, she filled it with so much energy and enthusiasm and said it like it was a badge of honor. At this point, she was just trying to force it out, and he didn't blame her.
Coming back from the Jackhammer, he intended to give the kid a tour of his ship, but Bulkhead had told him what had happened. He was seething when he was informed that none of the kids were allowed to see them again, and he was even more upset that Bulk had allowed that meatbag to just take her.
The Prime attempted to stop him when he revved out of the base in fury, but he wasn't his little soldier. He never would be.
"Yeah, well... that ain't happening."
Wheeljack wasn't one for awkward conversations. He didn't do emotions, not the mushy kind, anyway. So, if she started lubricating again, he wouldn't know what to do. Ugh, Primus, he hated this kind of stuff.
Miko blinked, turning her head slightly toward the dashboard, the closest she would get to looking at him when he was in alt-mode. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, no one's shipping me anywhere. Galloway can shove his rules where the sun don't shine." He grinned inwardly when she laughed. "Ain't part of Team Prime, so his fancy little orders don't apply to me."
Miko smiled.
"So, you wanna tell me what happened back there?" he finally asked.
"That bastard Galloway kicked me to the curb! That's what happened." She looked away, smile fading, rubbing her arm. "I didn't matter."
"Kid," he said, voice firm, "you do matter."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Tell that to Bulkhead. Oh wait—you can't! Because he's stuck on some military base in the middle of the ocean, and I—" She sucked in a sharp breath, and looked away again, pressing a knuckle against her eye.
The kid sniffled, rubbing at her nose with the sleeve of her pink hoodie. She was still trying to act tough and trying to pretend she was fine, but Wheeljack knew better. He wasn't the most emotionally intuitive bot out there—far from it—but even he could tell that her mind was a mess of emotions. And none of them were good.
It was time to change the topic.
"Alright, babe," he said casually, keeping his tone light. "Tell me where the party is, and I'll use your human GPS."
Miko giggled. "...Babe?" she repeated with a small smile. "Dude, since when do you talk like that?"
"Eh, figured it'd get your attention. Did it work?"
She snorted.
"What, you don't like the nickname? Would you prefer something else? Sweetspark? Darling? Snugglebug?"
"Oh my God, Jackie, stop!"
"Can't. Already committed. What about sugarplum?"
"Ew, no!"
"Angel cake?"
"Now you're just messing with me!"
Wheeljack was messing with her, and he was loving every second of it.
The human internet was a goldmine. And while it was a more primitive version of the DataNet, it sufficed to find what he was looking for. It was the entire reason he knew English, and where his translations protocols had helped him with this complicated language.
He didn't know fleshies needed so many words, and there was a ton more he probably didn't know about.
"So, you gonna tell me where this party is, or do I have to drive around till we crash some random kid's birthday?"
Miko sniffled once more, clearing her throat as she finally pulled out her phone. "It's at Sierra's house."
Wheeljack noticed he was above the speed limit, and let off the gas slightly, watching as the meter dipped. "Alright, put it in your little human GPS, and we'll be there in no time."
He could just pull up a map on his HUD and navigate it from there, but he'd prefer if something was distracting the kid.
"Alright, turn left in two miles."
"Got it."
Eventually, they came to what Miko referred to as the high-end of town, and it couldn't be any more obvious this was for the rich kids. They pulled up to a house, two stories, big windows and a big back yard. The driveway was crowded with cars, and from the inside, music thumped.
Wheeljack watched as the girl stared out the window. She didn't immediately move to get out. "...You won't leave me, right?" Her voice was quiet, and she sounded two seconds away from crying.
"Kid, I'd never leave you."
She swallowed hard, fiddling with the edges of her pink hoodie.
"You're a Wrecker," he continued, and he meant every word, "And Wreckers don't leave Wreckers behind."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"You were born a Wrecker, kid."
Her lips curved upward, and her eyes sparkled with newly returned life.
Wheeljack chuckled. "I'll do you one better," he stated. "How 'bout I come with you?"
Miko blinked, startled. "Wait, what?"
His holoform flickered into existence in the driver's seat, and he immediately found that he didn't like the fact his awareness was split in half. He focused all of it on the human-sized holoform, smiling at the girl who gawked at him.
"Well?" He smirked. "What d'you think?"
"Dude! That's so cool!"
The Wrecker winked. "Surprise. It's so much fun watching you freak out."
"I am not freaking out—"
"You're definitely freaking out."
"Shut up!"
He laughed, reaching out and tousling her hair affectionately.
"Jackie!"
"C'mon, let's crash this party," he remarked with a grin.
"...Thanks, Jackie."
He squeezed her shoulder, giving her a lopsided grin. "Anytime, kid."
Jack Darby had been through more in the last week than most people went through in a lifetime. And tonight, for the first time in what felt like forever, he had the chance to just be a regular teenager and go to a party.
And forget about that his dad had come back out of nowhere, acting like he hadn't left them to fend for themselves for years! A part of him wanted to believe that he could have a father again, but another part, a much angrier and bitter part, resented the man for leaving them in the first place.
"Take care of yourself," his mom said as they pulled up near Sierra's house. Mom had an evening shift at the hospital today, and Sierra's house happened to be on the way to the hospital, so she could drop him off. She had reluctantly expressed that one of his friends could bring him back home.
Jack nodded, already reaching for the door handle. "I will."
"Be careful and—"
"Don't eat any junk food," he finished for her, sighing.
She smiled, but there was worry in her eyes. She reached out, brushing his hair back like she used to when he was little. "Just... have fun, okay? You deserve it."
The teenager gave a small nod and stepped out of the car, straightening his shirt as his mom rolled down the window.
"And Jack?"
The boy groaned and went back to the window, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I love you. I'll see you later."
Did his mom just—?
Ugh. He scrubbed at his face, glancing around to make sure no one saw that. The last thing he needed was for Sierra or any of her friends to witness his mom babying him in public.
"I love you too," he muttered, hoping that he wasn't flushed as he watched his mom drive off. Something in his gut twisted, telling him he should've given her another hug and held her in the deepest embrace he could, because he wouldn't be seeing her again like this.
He shoved the terrible feeling to the side and turned toward the house. Sierra's house was... insane.
It was huge, easily the biggest house he'd ever set foot near in Jasper. Two stories, clean white walls with dark trim, a neatly manicured lawn, and a driveway big enough to fit at least six cars. The front porch had decorative lights wrapped around the railings, casting a warm glow. It was set aside from the rest of the houses, so it was less likely to get a noise complaint.
And it was a good thing too.
The windows were wide open, spilling pulsing music into the neighborhood. Through the windows, Jack could see dancing teenagers and flashing colored lights reflecting off the walls. The scent of barbecue and something sweet—maybe cake?—wafted through the air.
Holy shit, this was the real deal. Jack scanned the long line of parked, run-down cars spilling from the driveway onto the street in long rows. It seemed like the entire school had come. His eyes searched for Miko's parents' car or, more likely, Bulkhead. He figured the Japanese girl would've been dropped off, and if Bulkhead was here, then—
Someone grabbed his shoulders from behind.
Jack jumped about a foot in the air, panic clawing at him. MECH found him! Nononononono! No, no, no! He wouldn't go back! Almost immediately, he prepared to fight as he spun on his heel. Until he saw that it was Miko.
She grinned at him, eyes shining with mischief. "Yo, Jackrabbit!"
Jack exhaled sharply, trying to slow his racing pulse. "Geez, Miko! You can't just sneak up on people like that!"
She just laughed, as if that was exactly why she had done it. Knowing her, that was probably the entire reason. It was then he noticed her eyes were a bit red and puffy. She had been crying, and that only meant one thing. MECH.
Damn them, he thought bitterly.
His gaze drifted toward the man next to her. Miko never showed up anywhere with an adult unless it was one of the Autobots in holoform. And this guy wasn't Bulkhead's holoform, far from it actually.
This man was tall, with wild white hair, streaked with one strip of red and of green, that spiked in every direction. His skin was tanned, and his eyes were a bright, cerulean blue. There were two scars running under his thin lower lip, one longer and one smaller.
He wore a white jacket, accented with red and green lines, over a black shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms peppered with faint scars. His dark jeans were slightly ripped at the knees, and the combat boots on his feet looked like they had seen some serious action.
The smirk the man was wearing as was cocky, confident, and dangerous, but in a way that made you want to follow him into whatever insane stunt he looked like he was about to pull. It was a familiar smirk, but he couldn't place it.
This guy looked like he was a war hardened veteran.
"Um... Miko," he said slowly, eyes flicking between her and the mystery man. "Who is that?"
"Jackie!" she chirped, sounding the happiest ever.
Jackie? Wh—
His arm was nearly popped out of its socket when Miko grasped his hand and yanked, dragging him up the steps. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, spreading like wildfire to his ears. This was ridiculous, really.
He could walk himself.
Before he could say anything, the door swung open, and Sierra appeared, beaming.
His heart fluttered at the red haired girl, who looked effortlessly perfect. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders in glossy waves, quite a difference from the ponytail she always wore. Her skin practically glowed under the soft lighting of the patio.
There were less freckles, mostly because everyone had been retreating inside for the cool weather that had descended over Jasper. Her high cheekbones, delicate nose, and green eyes were all just... perfect. She smelled faintly of vanilla, and her purple dress, hugging the curves of her body, just added to her beauty.
"You made it!"
She threw her arms around his shoulders in a quick but enthusiastic hug.
Oh.
And she was warm, her body pressed briefly against his before she pulled away just as fast as she had latched on. His heart was pounding, and his brain refused to cooperate long enough to figure out how to breathe again.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Miko smirking. And then- yep, there it was, quiet snickering.
The teenager swallowed hard and prayed his face wasn't as red as it felt.
If Sierra noticed anything off about his expression, she didn't mention it. She launched into a quick rundown of the party—the food was in the kitchen, music in the living room, which had been converted into a dance floor, and backyard was open, bathrooms down the hall. He could barely keep up with her, and before he knew it, she disappeared into the crowd of teens.
Jack and Miko found themselves in the middle of a claustrophobic space, filled with dancing teens. It was uncomfortably warm and smelled too sweaty for his taste. So, he made his way to the kitchen and surveyed the counter, filled with typical junk food and drinks.
Well, there goes not eating any junk food, he thought. I mean, c'mon, what teenager in their right mind is going to bring organic tofu, or salad to a party? Not that I can eat any of it. I'll just throw it all up.
Jack noticed foam cups on the counter and grabbed one, taking a swig of it. He recoiled at the acrid, burning taste of alcohol sliding down his throat. His face contorted at the pungent taste, realizing that it was worse than he expected.
Why do people even like this?
Mom did everything in her power to keep him from underage drinking, forbidding the very substance in their house. She pushed it further, telling him stories of what it did to people. Rotting your brain, liver issues, drunk driving accidents and etcetera.
He shook his head and tried to push the thought away. This was supposed to be normal. This was what normal kids did. Well, that's what he thought anyways. So, he tipped the bottle back and drank a good portion of it, letting it settle in his stomach.
Meanwhile, Miko had already finished her first drink and was well into her second. She swayed a little as she threw back another sip, grinning at him before sauntering off toward the dance floor. The teenager watched her disappear into the sea of teens.
Raf would hate this.
Parties weren't his thing. He was quiet, reserved, always preferring the silence of his home over this. While other kids their age were partying, Raf spent his nights doing next week's homework or coding on his computer.
Because of his introverted nature, other students barely noticed him, dismissing him as a nobody. But if someone really got to know him, they would find he was talkative. Playful, even. He could catch people off guard with some of his wit, if he was comfortable enough to do it.
Jack's chest twisted, and he pushed it down. He was here to forget, to escape, to drown out the mess of emotions clawing at his insides. So he took another drink, trying to forget that Raf was in the claws of a demon, or in hell.
The next few hours were spent dancing and drinking, mostly dancing though. He was too socially awkward to engage in any conversations with others, and with alcohol in his system, he was afraid of what stupid things might come out of his mouth if it were to open.
When his stomach started to churn violently, disagreeing with the poisonous drink in his system, he stopped with his activities and watched the others with a water in hand.
A voice nearly startled him.
"Yo, kid. Enjoying yourself?"
Jack nearly choked on his drink.
That voice.
"Whe—" the teenager started, but his voice cracked, and he had to start over. "Wheeljack?"
The man's smirk, the one that only the Wrecker could do, widened, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Took ya long enough."
His mind was trying to process that he was seeing his holoform. He had seen the Autobots' holoforms before, but only rarely. Optimus had used one once to avoid drawing attention. Arcee had one too, though she preferred not to use it, unless it was strictly necessary. He had never seen Bumblebee's before, though.
"You—what—why?"
The Wrecker folded his arms across his broad chest. "What? Thought I was just gonna let Miko waltz into a party by herself? Nah, kid. She's my partner in crime. Gotta make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "You mean cause trouble."
Wheeljack shrugged, unbothered. "Same thing."
Jack exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Why are you here?"
"I'm here for Miko," he replied with a shrug.
"Where's Bulkhead? I thought he would be the one to take her to the party."
Wheeljack looked genuinely taken aback, and he found he didn't like that expression. "Ol' Bulk ain't going to be around anymore."
"What—" His throat was dry, those words echoing in his mind like a broken record. "What do you mean he's not going to be around anymore?"
"Miko didn't tell you?"
A horrible feeling coiled in his stomach. "Told me what?"
The Wrecker frowned, and his easygoing attitude was slipping away, replaced by something uncomfortable. His gaze flickered away for a split second, and that was all it took for Jack to know—whatever this was, it wasn't good.
His stomach churned, and not just because of the alcohol.
"They ain't allowed to see you anymore. Government's orders."
He had to swallow back the lump in his throat. The boy swayed on his feet. The room suddenly felt too small. Gone. They were gone.
Arcee. Optimus. Bumblebee. Ratchet. Bulkhead.
He wasn't going to see them again.
Jack turned abruptly, shoving past a group of partygoers without a word. He needed air. His feet carried him toward the back patio, where cooler night air greeted him. A swimming pool sat at the center, surrounded by tiles and grass further out.
His hands were shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to breathe. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. He felt sick, and he slowly lowered himself onto the steps that led down into the large backyard.
Arcee had promised—
No. No, she hadn't.
She never promised forever. But she had promised that she'd always be there when he needed her. And he needed her now more than ever, especially after everything that had just happened.
"See you later, Jack?"
He said he was going to see her later. He lied. Everything in him wanted to scream, and lash out at something, but he just merely stared at the water in the pool.
Why didn't Miko tell him this?
"Hey," a soft voice broke through the thoughts swirling in his head.
He turned, blinking as his gaze landed on Sierra. She still looked great, even after hours of partying, what he thought, nonstop. "You okay?" she asked.
Jack wanted to laugh, he could feel it wanting to be set free, high and hysterical. But, he also wanted to yell, "No, I'm not okay! I just found out my best friend was taken away from me and I'll never see her again!"
He couldn't say that for obvious reasons. Nobody would understand him, only the 'Bots could. Instead, he forced a tight smile and muttered, "Fine. Just getting some fresh air."
He was surprised when Sierra sat down next to him on the patio step, tucking one leg underneath her and resting her arms over her knees. She was close enough that he could feel her warmth, but not close enough to touch.
His heart skipped slightly at their proximity, and Jack scolded his own heart for reacting to her presence. He prayed he wasn't drunk enough to say something stupid.
"How come I never see you around?" Sierra asked after a moment. There was nothing but curiosity in her tone.
Jack let out a short breath, glancing at her. "I'm at school, and I'm here now, aren't I?"
The red head smiled. "Yeah, but I mean around town. At the mall, at the movies... Just, you know, places normal people hang out."
Normal people. Right. He couldn't explain to her that he hung out with giant, alien beings that were fighting an intergalactic war, most of the time. Who in their right mind would believe him? He was crazy, delusional! Stupid Jack Darby, having too much alcohol and making up things.
"It's... complicated," he said slowly, managing a shrug. He didn't think he was sober enough to form a proper lie. His brain was still trying to process what Wheeljack had told him. "Life's just been... complicated."
Sierra pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. "I get that," she murmured. "Sometimes, things don't go the way you want them to."
The teenager gave a short, dry laugh. "That's an understatement."
The red head glanced at him, her expression turning playful as she nudged him on the shoulder. "Come on, it can't be that bad. What, did you secretly get married and have to support a family in another state?"
Jack huffed, shaking his head. "Something like that."
The girl opened her mouth to say something, but a hostile voice cut her off and completely destroyed the moment.
"What are you doing out here, Darby?" Vince demanded. Jack looked over his shoulder to see the ginger glaring at him, arms crossed tightly over his chest and nostrils flared.
"Nothing, Vince," the teenager sighed, standing up. He took a step to go back inside, but Vince blocked his path. He really didn't want to deal with this bully right now.
"I know exactly what's going on here," he hissed in a vicious whisper. "I've been watching you, how you've been looking at Sierra. Like a creep. She's mine, Darby."
"Yours?"
"Calm down, Vince, it's nothing," Sierra interrupted, and she sounded on the verge of panicking. "We were just talking, that's all."
"What if Sierra doesn't want a slimeball like you?" he spat. He wasn't in the best state of mind, he blamed it on the alcohol. "What if she actually wants a decent person?"
Vince looked furious. "And why would she want someone like you, Darby." He pointed a thin finger at him, jabbing it into his chest. It really wasn't a question, but he was still going to answer it.
"Because I'm better than you."
The ginger reddened, furious. Sierra jumped to her feet, trying to stop the two lean boys, who were sizing each other up, from turning this into a scene. It would only take one punch for this to go the wrong way.
"Vince, stop it!" she demanded, trying to defuse the situation. Vince pretended not to hear here, so she turned to him. "Jack, please, just go. I... I don't want either of you to get hurt."
"Yeah, Jack, go. We wouldn't want you to get hurt," the ginger bully jeered, lip curling as he stepped into his personal space. Jack could smell the alcohol on his breath, his face contorting at the foul smell. "No one wants you here. Well, maybe that annoying girl."
Every muscle in his body was tense, ready to uncoil at the moment's notice. He dug his nails into his palm and let out a shaky sigh as he remembered Vince was drunk. Besides, he wasn't worth a scrap. The teenager, with great reluctance, forced himself to walk past the bully, trying to disappear back into the crowd.
Vince wasn't done. "No wonder why your dad left you! You're a sad excuse of a—"
Whatever he said next was drowned out by the blood rushing to his ears, his heartbeat pounding loudly. All noises, the loud music, the laughter and yells of people vanished as he turned around, his gaze narrowing in on the bully. A green haze descended over his vision, much like the one in MECH's base.
What happened next, he didn't know. The only thing he knew was the heat building, hotter and higher, vague images flashing across his vision. He may have yelled something at some point, but he couldn't be sure.
Something wrapped around his arms, pulling him back. His hearing slowly came back, and he heard himself snarling an inhumane sound. Feeling quickly followed and he became aware of a set of hands on either side of his arms. There were two kids his age, twice his size holding him back, barely.
"Dude, when'd you become so strong?" One of the moaned, sounding strained. He stopped resisting when he looked ahead, hearing a horrible sound. He flinched.
Vince was flat on his back across the tile of the pool, barely moving. His face was bloody and swollen, finished with a crooked nose and an arm twisted an unnatural level. He took in uneven breaths, watching as the ginger's goons crouched over him, touching him careful, as if they were afraid to hurt him more than he already was.
It brought back the awful scene of what he did at MECH.
The 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.
Oh God...
The world slowly returned to him, and he started to notice that the empty backyard was suddenly filled with people. A ring had formed around him, Sierra, and Vince, all of them wide-eyed and whispering, pointing between the two boys.
"What the hell, Jack?"
"He messed Vince up."
"Dude just snapped."
He spotted Sierra, who stood a few feet away, clutching her arms to her chest as she pressed against her friends. There were tears in her eyes and her lips were quivering, staring at him with something Jack recognized. It made something twist in his chest.
She was afraid.
Afraid of him.
His stomach dropped, and that burning only grew worse. Jack had never seen that expression on her before, and not directed at him from Sierra, of all people.
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.
"I—" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. His throat felt tight, like someone had wrapped an invisible wire around it and was slowly pulling it taut.
She flinched.
Jack stepped back, feeling worse than when Vince punched him. He felt hot, too hot. The fear and accusation in her eyes hurt too much. He turned his head back at Vince, staring at the bloodied teenager. The ginger would need to go to the hospital.
Had he done that?
He didn't even remember moving. One second, Vince had spat those words at him, the ones that cut deep enough to rip open old wounds, and the next...
Jack exhaled shakily, looking down at his own bloody and split hands, horrified. Was that his blood? Or Vince's? It sickened him at the thought, and he realized he didn't want to know. He clenched them, digging his nails into his side. The blood flowing through his veins felt hot, like it had turned into lava.
The teenager squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them again. The world felt like it was spinning off its axis. He needed to get out of here now.
"S-Sierra," he tried again, his voice pleading. "I didn't—"
"Please, Jack," she whimpered, her voice trembling, "just go." Her friends held her tighter, glaring at him nastily. Those words hurt more than a dagger.
Jack took another step back. Then another. The crowd parted as he turned, stumbling slightly as he moved toward the house. He barely noticed the way people shrank away from him as he passed, whispering behind their hands, staring holes into his back.
He didn't remember much of the house as he stumbled through it, only that he eventually found his way through the front door, and onto the driveway.
No wonder why he left you.
"Dude! What the hell happened back there?"
He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think. Something itched in his brain, and he snarled at the girl. "I don't want to talk about it."
He didn't feel anything when she flinched, hazel eyes going wide. Hotness flared inside of him, and he could feel his vision tunneling and locking onto her. The man next to her, he knew him from somewhere, placed a hand on her shoulder. The Wrecker pulled her back slightly, his electric-blue eyes narrowing as he stepped between them.
The pressure built higher, hotter.
"When were you going to tell me?" Jack hissed. "When were you going to tell me about the 'Bots?"
The boy's chest rose and fell rapidly as he glared at her, at Wheeljack, at everything and nothing all at once. His head felt like it was on fire. "Were you planning on keeping that a secret forever?" He all but shouted. A horrible laugh escaped his lips, and the girl flinched again.
"J-Jack..." Miko started, but the words died on her tongue.
"Kid, lay off," the man ordered. "You're not yourself right now."
"Not myself?" He repeated mockingly, green curling around the edges of his vision. He bared his teeth into a vicious smile. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who the hell are you?"
The man's eyes widened a fraction. Then, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed, and he squared his shoulders, putting himself between them. "Kid, you need to cool off." His voice was even but firm, and he could hear the warning. "You're running hot, and you're not thinking straight."
"Who the hell do you think you are that you can tell me what to do?!" The burning was only growing worse, and he found himself forgetting what he was talking about. His eyes drifted to the girl, brain itching. He knew her...
His attention was drawn back to the strange man, who softly said, "Go get in the car, kid."
What were they talking about? There was this urge to punch him, to relieve the burning. His eyes watched the girl sprint away to a strange muscle car. The boy watched her go, something cold and ugly curling in his gut.
His pulse pounded against his skull. His knuckles ached. His stomach churned. That sickly green haze crawled at his vision, clouding his thoughts, filling his veins with something that screamed. Every nerve in his body screamed for release, for some kind of outlet. He could feel the energy building, his muscles coiling like a predator ready to strike.
"I'm not gonna let you hurt Miko, kid."
Miko...
"You should've seen her earlier," the strange man continued. "She was upset. Think she was cryin' most of the day."
He opened his mouth to spit something out when a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. The boy recoiled instantly, yanking himself away on instinct, his fight-or-flight instincts kicking into overdrive. He whirled around, ready to snarl at whoever had dared to touch him—
And froze.
Cold blue eyes studied him, and for a moment, the world tilted, the green receding. "...Dad?"
Jonanthan Darby arched an eyebrow. "You look surprised to see me, sport," he remarked.
Jack blinked rapidly, struggling to process what was happening. Everything fiber in his being told him to punch the man, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do anything. So there he stood, rooted in the asphalt, staring dumbly at the man who was once his father.
"You were following me," he accused, glaring at the man.
Jonathan didn't answer right away. He merely scanned his surroundings, and the man behind him, before he let out a sigh. "You've been drinkin'."
"I'm fine," he spat.
Jonathan expression didn't change. "You're drunk."
That heat in his chest was rising again. "You following me now?" Jack bit out venomously.
The man's face remained unreadable. "Overheard you were invited to the girl's part at the store. Parties have drinks, and I suspected you might drink. I stayed here just in case something happened."
He laughed bitterly. "Oh, now you care?"
Jonathan didn't react like he hoped. He just exhaled through his nose, calm as ever, before jerking his chin toward the parking lot. "Get in the car, sport."
"No."
"Jackson Darby." The way Jonathan said his name, his full name, made something in Jack's chest squeeze painfully. He hated when people called him Jackson, it made him feel old. He wanted to snarl at the man, but he continued, "I'm not gonna ask again. Get. In. The car."
He could fight it. He could fight him. But then he caught a glimpse of the man... Wheeljack, he remembered dully, who was staring back at the bright sports car, Miko staring out the window a hurt and worried expression. Suddenly, all the heat drained away and he was exhausted.
Jack shoved past his father, muttering a quiet, "Fine," as he stalked toward the car.
When the man got in the car with him, and started it, he remarked, "Your mother isn't going to be happy when you come home drunk."
"Shut up."
And he did.
Wheeljack didn't think it was normal for a human's eyes to change color.
The Wrecker had seen a lot of strange things in his lifetime, and a human whose eyes weren't supposed to change within the span of two nano-kliks, glowing a sickly green was one of the things, strangely.
The kid looked at him without even recognizing him, with a murderous look on his face that told him a whole other story, and he wondered what had happened to the kid when he was at MECH.
The thought made his energon burn hot in his fuel lines. Whatever it was, it had to be figured out quickly. Wheeljack opened a private comm line to the one bot who could get him answers.
::Hey Doc, you need to check those kids' blood. Now.::
::I'm busy.::
::I don't care if you're fraggin' busy. Make time.::
There was a long klik of silence before Ratchet responded. ::Wheeljack, what's going on?::
::Doc, there's something wrong with Darby. His fraggin' eyes changed color in two nano-kliks. I don't know much about human biology, but I know that ain't normal.::
The line went dead silent. ::You are correct. While humans eyes can change color over time, it is abnormal for a drastic shift, especially in the time frame you have suggested. I am checking their blood now.::
Wheeljack let out air through his vents. He wasn't the type to worry but something in his spark told him that whatever MECH had done, it was bad. Real bad.
A quiet, choked sob pulled his attention toward Miko.
Through his holoform, he turned his head and stared at Miko, who was sitting with her knees pulled tight against her chest against the passenger seat. Her face was streaked with tears, falling onto his seat. He would've remarked on that, but that was insignificant.
"I... I didn't think he would snap like that," she hiccupped.
"Kid," he said, "it wasn't your fault."
The kid sniffled, shaking her head. "But I—"
"Listen to me," he cut in. "Jack wasn't himself. He was overcharged—" He caught her confused look and frowned. Right. She probably didn't know much about Cybertronian terminology. Quickly, he pulled up a search on the human internet. Equivalent of overcharged...
Ah.
"—Drunk," he corrected, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that she would find it reassuring. He wasn't exactly a touchy-feely bot.
Miko wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. "He didn't mean it...?"
Wheeljack sighed, shaking his head. "No, kid. He didn't."
There was a long silence that settled over them, and soon, Miko's sobs subsided, and she was taking deep breaths to calm herself. When she was calm enough, he said,
"Miko, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I need to know what MECH did to you."
Miko stiffened immediately, and her fingers curled into fists against her knees. She sucked in a shaky breath. He let the silence hang between them for a moment before adding, "I know it's not easy. But MECH did something to you and Jack, and we need to know what we're dealing with. We need to stop it before it gets worse."
She didn't respond right away. The girl squeezed her eyes shut, and breathed, probably trying to stop her trembling. "...Fine," she finally muttered.
Wheeljack remained silent, letting her speak at her own pace.
"They—" She swallowed hard. "They tortured us." Miko stared down at her lap with a blank expression, oddly detached. "They cut me open."
His spark twisted painfully in his chest. No youngling should be tortured, even he as a Wrecker, had some standards. These aftholes... those evil glitches... they had no standards, and it made him seethe.
"They broke my bones. Beat me. Waterboarded me. And when I healed, they started all over again." The kid let out a strangled laugh. "It was all because of E-X1. Some garbage they cooked up in a lab. I don't even know what it does." Her voice wavered slightly. "But they gave it to me. Every single day."
Wheeljack frowned. "What do you mean?"
She turned her head, meeting his gaze for the first time since she started talking. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. "Sometimes they made me drink it," she murmured. "Other times, they injected it into me. Sometimes once a day. Sometimes twice.
"It did something to me," she admitted. "I don't get sick anymore. I heal fast— really fast. And I'm stronger. Faster." She forced a bitter smile. "Like Wolverine, y'know?"
Wheeljack didn't laugh. Whatever this E-X1 was, it was doing something awful to the kids, and he had a terrible feeling in his tanks that it was working.
"I can't eat because I throw everything up, and my chest hurts all the time." Miko looked away again, her expression darkening. "Silas told us..." She hesitated before continuing, "He said he was going to turn us into Transformers."
Wheeljack's spark nearly stopped.
"...What?"
"I don't know how," Miko admitted, rubbing at her arms like she was cold. "But it probably has something to do with E-X1."
Wheeljack's processor whirred, trying to put the pieces together. If Silas wanted to turn them into Cybertronians, then that meant—
Scrap.
This was worse than he thought.
June Darby's fingers trembled as she clamped the IV line, and she swallowed, willing herself to steady her hands. The last thing she needed was for one of the other nurses to notice. She reached for the fresh saline bag and prepared to spike the solution.
Breathe, June. Just breathe.
These past few days had taken a toll on her, and no amount of coffee or forced optimism could mask the exhaustion weighing down at her. Sleep had been a luxury she had been lacking as of lately, especially with everything going on.
Her ex-husband had resurfaced. After years of absence, he had walked back into her life as if nothing had happened. But she knew better. She knew him. She knew his persistence, his charm, and how easily he could manipulate a situation to work in his favor.
She had barely managed to get him to leave today, but that didn't mean he was gone for good. Jonathan Darby never left empty-handed. He was like a vulture, circling, waiting for the perfect moment to sink his talons back in.
And then there was Jack, whom she just got back from those monsters. Her baby boy was at a party, alone. It didn't matter that he thought he was almost an adult; he was still her child. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined the worst, MECH waiting for Jack in the dark, catching him off guard tonight, when he was out in the open, surrounded by strangers.
God, what if he had already been taken? What if right now, while she was standing here, on a long shift, her son was being shoved into the back of some unmarked vehicle, his mouth covered before he could even scream?
The thought made her stomach twist painfully.
She needed to call him. No—she should have never let him go in the first place. She should have insisted he stay home and locked the doors and stayed up all night if that's what it took to keep him safe. He had been through so much already. She had seen the change in him, and that haunted look that was permanently in his eyes.
"June?"
The voice startled her, yanking her out of the spiral of anxiety. She was startled to find a watery film over her vision, and she would've spiked her hand, if it weren't for another pair of hands grabbing it before she could make another mistake.
The older woman properly connected the new IV, reassuring the patient before taking June outside. The mother was sure she was going to comment on it, but instead, she asked, "You okay?"
June forced a tight-lipped smile. "Just tired," she said, hating how lame and tired her voice sounded.
"You know, you forgot to give Mr. Martinez his daily medicine," Linda pointed out, pursing her lips. June cringed and remembered that she had already been reminded about it once before, and yet, somehow, she had still forgotten. It wasn't like her to make mistakes like this.
"O-oh, I'll go—" she started, but Linda's voice cut her off.
"June, go home."
The nurse blinked, startled by the firmness in her friend's tone.
"Your shift's almost over anyway, and you look like you need the rest."
June opened her mouth to argue that she was fine, that she could last another hour or two if needed. But then she caught the look in Linda's eyes, and that halted the words. Truth be told, she was exhausted. It was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into her bones, numbing her limbs and fogging her mind. It was the exhaustion that made her forget something as simple as a patient's medication.
She let out a slow breath and forced a nod. "Alright. You're right."
Linda gave her a knowing look. "Of course I'm right. Now go home before I have to drag you out myself."
The nurse mustered a tired smile. "Thank you."
Linda snorted, waving her off, and June turned, making her way toward the exit. As she walked, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, immediately dialing Jack's number.
One ring. Two. Three.
Then—
|"Hey, you've reached Jack. Leave a message."|
He's at a party. Maybe he just didn't hear his phone. Maybe it's too loud. Maybe—
Her stomach twisted.
Maybe something had happened. No. Don't go there. Don't assume the worst.
But how could she not?
She had spent years raising Jack on her own, keeping him safe, trying to shield him from all the dangers in the world. She had failed at that, and her son had been taken by MECH. Now he wasn't answering his phone, and she had no way of knowing if he was okay.
June was clenching the phone so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. Any tighter, and the phone might crack in half. She redialed her son's number.
Pick up, Jack. Please, just pick up.
The call went to voicemail again.
She swallowed the rising panic in her throat and pressed redial. Again, the same result. The nurse let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand against her forehead.
"Jack, it's Mom. Call me back as soon as you get this. I don't care what time it is. Just... call me, okay?"
She ended the call and stared at the phone screen, willing it to ring.
It didn't.
When she reached outside, she was slapped by the cool night air. Her scrubs did little to shield her from the cold, but she pretended not to feel it. She sprinted across the hospital's parking lot and fumbled with the keys to her car.
As she opened the door, she heard a screech of tires, accompanied by the low growl of an engine. A metallic click cut through the silence, the sound of gun being cocked. Slowly, the nurse turned to the source of the sound.
A man dressed in dark tactical gear, his face obscured by a featureless black helmet, stood outside the door of the passenger seat of a dark green sports car with a black stripe down its center. Her attention locked onto the gun pointed straight at her.
"Drop the phone and get in," the man ordered coldly, waving the gun slightly.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, but staring into the barrel of the gun, she knew there wasn't a chance she was getting out of this without being shot. She wasn't stupid, and she refused to leave her son without a mother.
She swallowed hard and lowered the phone, letting it slip from her grasp, the clack of it hitting the pavement far too loud for her liking. Then, with legs that suddenly felt far too unsteady, she stepped forward and slid into the car's backseat.
The moment she was inside, the door slammed shut beside her, trapping her. She immediately noticed a broad-shouldered man with a scarred face that resembled a grotesque piece of artwork, and shortly cut, grey hair sitting next to her. His dark eyes were unreadable, and that extended to the rest of his face.
A smirk slowly curled his lips, sending ice through her veins. "Hello, Ms. Darby," Silas drawled, in a disturbingly calm tone.
Despite the ice-cold fear crawling up her spine, she squared her shoulders. She refused to let him see how much he terrified her. "What do you want?" she demanded, glad that her voice wasn't shaking.
Silas tilted his head slightly. "Straight to the point. An admirable thing, Ms. Darby."
"Cut the crap."
The cruel man chuckled. "Alright then. I want my projects back."
Her blood boiled. "Those are not projects," she spat, disgusted with the man in front of her. "They're people, Silas. Human beings, not some experiments." Her voice trembled with fury as she glared daggers at the man who tortured her son.
"That's where you are wrong, Ms. Darby." His lips peeled back into a horrible smile, revealing straight, white teeth. "They are mine to do with what I please. They are very valuable, priceless even, to me for what they hold."
It was obsession, that much she could tell from the mad look in his eyes.
"What did you do to them?" she demanded.
Silas gave a thoughtful hum. "I don't see why that matters," he said lightly. "What matters is that I want them back. And you, dear Ms. Darby, are going to help me."
"I will never help you."
"Oh, I don't need you to cooperate," he hummed in response. "I just need you to be there. You see, your brat of a son and his little friends cost me dearly. They humiliated me. They set me back. Millions of dollars were wasted. Resources burned." His fingers curled into a fist. "It is only fair that I repay the favor."
"You're going after Jack," she whispered, horrified.
"Oh, not just Jack," Silas corrected lightly. "That little girl, Miko, was it?, was just as much of a thorn in my side. Payback is sweet." He leaned in uncomfortably close, lowering his voice to a venomous whisper. "I'll make sure they all understand exactly what it means to cross me before they forget."
A fresh wave of terror crashed over her for the children. This monsters—this pathetic excuse for a man—wanted revenge on her son, and on Miko. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, panic clawing at her mind.
"You stay the hell away from my son," she hissed, voice shaking with fury.
Silas just chuckled. "Oh, Ms. Darby," he mused, eyes dark with amusement. "I don't think you're in any position to make demands."
He was right, of course. "You're insane," she spat, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.
"No, Ms. Darby. I'm simply a man who doesn't like losing."
June lunged for the door handle, though Silas seemed to predict that she was going to do that. Before she could even touch it, he grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip, yanking her back against the seat. She gasped, struggling, twisting her arm, but his strength was solid.
"Now, now, Ms. Darby," he tutted, his other hand slipping into his pocket. "You didn't really think I'd just let you walk away, did you?"
She opened her mouth, to scream, to curse him, to do something, but the moment she sucked in a breath, a cloth was pressed tightly over her nose and mouth.
Chloroform, her brain numbly supplied, the acrid scent burning her nostrils. June jerked, twisting violently in his grasp, but the darkness was already creeping at the edges of her vision.
No. No, no, no.
Jack.
Her baby boy.
She had to—
Help.
Not even over a day and half, MECH has already made their move...
Time is running out, and it's going to catch them. And it seems E-X1 is having... effects than previously shown. Dangerous mental effects, apparently. Other than the whole 'it's going to kill them because of sparks growing inside their bodies' thing.
I may have gotten a bit carried away...
So, hope you enjoyed your behemoth of a chapter that I totally didn't spend all night writing because I was so excited for the next chapter 😁