Entry 008: Confrontation

by Darksidekelz

Summary:

Disappointed in the recent performance of his team, Megatron offers an incentive for the next mech to bring him a Minicon. Cyclonus realizes that he knows the location of plenty of Minicons already: with the Autobots, and he and Demolishor concoct a plan to acquire them by exploiting the Autobots' biggest weakness.

Meanwhile, Carlos is having a bad day.

Chapter 1: Fowler

Fowler knew that something was wrong with Agent Lopez.  The man didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but you didn’t get to be a special agent with the FBI without being at least a little perceptive.  The man had just come back from his vacation, and even though he wore a smile on his face, even though he shook Fowler’s hand and greeted him like normal, Fowler could just tell.

“How was the vacation Freddie?  Get to spend time with your son?”  It was a completely innocuous question – reconnecting with Carlos had been the whole point of the vacation in the first place.  True, he kid could have potentially had valuable information about the weird happenings in Columbia City, but Lopez didn’t need to know that.

“Hmm, what?  Carlos?  Oh he’s fine, he’s fine.” 

Translation: Carlos isn’t fine.

“That good, eh?  What did you two do together?”

“Do?  Oh, we did stuff.  Y’know, like, went to a baseball game.”  It was not baseball season. 

Translation:  They did nothing together.

“Oh, baseball?  Who’s your team?  The Mariners?”

“Huh, what?  Oh yeah.  Yeah, that’s the one.  Carlos loved them since he was small.” 

Translation: ‘I am full of crap.’

“Hey Freddie?”

“Yes Bill?”

“Did you see your son at all in this past week?”

At once, Lopez deflated.  “No.  No I did not.”  It was the first honest thing he’d said the whole conversation.

“Why not?” Fowler questioned.  “I thought you’d been wanting to see him.”

Lopez frowned, folding his arms over his chest, closing himself off.  “All I got was a text from him.  They swung by but I wasn’t there, so they went home.”

“Home?  Isn’t that a three hour drive?  Each way?”

“Yeah, I thought it was a little strange.  Asked around the neighborhood to see if anyone had seen them.  Get this: he and his friends showed up in a yellow Audi TT-RS.”

Now wasn’t that interesting?  “Our man from the other day?”

“Right down to the dark glasses.”

“So he’s involved.”

“It would seem like it,” Lopez sighed, before maneuvering over to his desk and slumping, corpselike, into his seat.  “Story doesn’t end there though.”

“No?”

“I did some snooping to see if anything weird happened in the area that night.  Apparently somebody vandalized the underground near King Street station, and when I say ‘vandalized’, I mean with heavy firearms.  It’s a miracle they didn’t suffer a cave in.”

Fowler wasn’t sure what to make of it.  “You think they’re related?”

Lopez nodded.  “A neighbor saw Carlos leave on a flashy, purple motorcycle – accompanied by another shady driver.”

Fowler raised an eyebrow.  “You think it could be a gang?”

“I hope not,” Lopez groaned, rubbing at his temples.  “But a traffic camera caught that same motorcycle fly off a pedestrian bridge and onto some train tracks shortly before our act of vandalism took place.”

This was big.  Fowler wasn’t sure whether or not ‘gang activity’ was the answer to their strange goings on, but the Audi was connected to the red jet, and now it seemed a purple motorcycle was involved.  Something weird was happening here, and they needed to get to the bottom of it.

“Have you asked Carlos about it?”

Lopez shook his head.  “He won’t answer my calls.  Linda says he’s not answering anybody’s calls.  He apparently came back from his trip to Seattle completely despondent.  He comes straight home after school, and then he lies in bed all evening.  I’m really worried about him.”

If that was uncharacteristic behavior for the boy, then it was safe to say something happened last Saturday.  And it was almost certainly connected.

“I’m not sure what to do,” Lopez admitted.  “Everyone says having a teenager is tough, but I didn’t expect mine to get caught up in something so . . . shady.”

Fowler didn’t envy his partner one bit.  Parenthood was rough; it was why he’d never become a parent himself.  That being said, he couldn’t deny that Carlos could be their key to cracking this case wide open.

“I think,” said Fowler, “that you shouldn’t interfere – not yet.  Just keep tabs on him.  Once we have a better idea as to what he’s up to, we can step in.  Yeah?”

“I guess so,” said Lopez, miserably.  “I guess so.”

Chapter 2: Demolishor

“Every single one of you has failed me.”

Megatron was in a bad mood.  That was the case more often than not these days, but calling everybody together to chew them out was new for him.  It was a sorry sight, but Demolishor couldn’t blame him.  They had, indeed, been turning in an embarrassing performance lately.  He would have been in a perpetual bad mood too, were he in Megatron’s position.

“This was supposed to be my moment,” he continued.  “We were supposed to come to this nowhere little planet, gather up these super weapons, and return to Cybertron as heroes.  Instead, look at us.  Pathetic,” he nodded to Starscream.  “Mad,” his glare snapped to Cyclonus.  “Soft,” and then Demolishor.  That was hardly fair.  Demolishor was as hard as any soldier – certainly harder than Starscream or Cyclonus.  He just didn’t fancy the thought of mowing down their own allies to prove a point.

“We’re outnumbered – every mech on their side is equipped with a Minicon, and they have two to spare.  And here we are.  We’ve failed time and again, and the Minicon tracker remains dormant.  This is absolutely unacceptable.”  That, at least, was something all of them could agree on.

“Perhaps,” Megatron continued, “it’s a lack of motivation.  Perhaps it would help to offer a reward for the acquisition of new Minicons.”  He paused, as if waiting for feedback, but nobody dared to answer.  By this point, they all knew that Megatron did not appreciate feedback.  As predicted, he continued.  “Well then, I promise, the next mech who is able to bring me a Minicon will be greatly rewarded.  And the rest will be target practice for the next lunar cycle.  That is all.”

He remained poised as he turned on his heel and left the command room, though anyone within a few yards could feel the erratic pulse of a furious EM field.  Megatron was not fooling anyone.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Starscream complained once Megatron was safely out of ear-shot.  When wasn't he complaining?

“I'm always getting used as target practice anyway.  It's high time you two join in on the fun.”  Cyclonus was laughing as always, but after spending the better part of the last few days in and out of fugue states, it was a little hard to accept his good humor at face value.

“Nobody should be getting used as target practice,” Starscream snapped.  “It's a waste of resources and terrible for morale, but even if it weren't, Megatron should not be foisting his own leadership ineptitudes on us.”

“You really would save yourself a whole lot of pain and heartache if you’d just learn to not speak your mind all the time,” Cyclonus giggled.  Demolisher was less amused.

“Don't speak about your leader that way.”

Starscream’s eyes widened and he flinched away, but only for a moment.  “He’s our leader, but that doesn't make him the god-king of the universe.  Frankly, if he’d spend more time listening to us, or Pit, if he’d stop moping around in his room all day and offered us some damned support, we might actually start having a few successes around here.”

“His job is to make the tough decisions!” Demolishor snapped back.  “It's not his responsibility to pick us up off the ground every time we trip over our own pedes!  This is why no one likes you, Starscream.  Even after all this time, you're still just a whiny, spoiled prince!”

“Girls, please.  You’re both pretty.”  Cyclonus’s comment was not appreciated, but it did kill some of the tension.  Starscream bristled, again for just a moment, before his whole frame deflated, and he marched off in the direction of the Minicon tracker, muttering under his breath the whole way.

“I'm the spoiled prince, they say?  When Megatron's the one making everyone call him ‘lord?’  Megatron, who flies off the deep end if you ever dare to criticize?  I'm the only one taking this mission seriously.  Clowns, the lot of them!”

Demolishor wasn't about to let the insults fly.  He had plenty of respect, for both himself and his oldest friend.  Starscream had no idea what he was on about!

He lunged, forward, ready to prove which of them was the clown, when –

“What a regular ray of sunshine that one is.”

Cyclonus was so annoying.  Couldn't he let Demolishor beat a guy to a pulp without his dismissive little comments?

“He should be dead right now,” Demolishor growled.  “Nobody speaks about Lord Megatron like that.”  Megatron would be so proud of him right now.  Demolishor was anything but soft.

“If he was dead,” Cyclonus retorted, “then it would be you and me versus all of the Autobots, and maybe that's your thing, but I would hate it.  We're outnumbered as it is.  Let's not give the goody goody squad more help.”

As much as Demolishor hated to admit it, the lunatic had a point.

“Okay,” Demolishor conceded, “but he's headed to the Minicon tracker – you know he is!  He's gonna know when the next Minicon shows up before we do.  It's not fair that the least loyal Con wins the prize!”

“Who says he's gonna win?” Cyclonus cut in.  What was he on about now?

“Look, I know your brain module is fried, but you're not that dumb.  Without the tracker, we got no Minis, and if we got no Minis, then we lose.”

“It doesn't have to be that way.”

“Uh yes.  It does?  Do you not understand what the Minicon tracker does?”  Forget Starscream.  Demolishor was two seconds away from clobbering Cyclonus.

“Yeah, but who knows when that thing’s gonna go off next?  And what if we’ve caught ‘em all, eh?  Who's to say?”

“What's your point?”

“My point,” said Cyclonus, “is that I happen to know where a whole bunch of Minicons are right now.”

“What?!” Demolishor snapped.  Had this obnoxious twit really been sitting on this kind of information the whole time?  “I swear to Primus, you got five seconds to start talking!”

“Oh, don't be so dramatic.  You know where they are too.”

What?

Demolishor paused, backed down, and considered Cyclonus's words carefully, hoping to find what it was he was missing.  He failed.

“Speak straight, Cyclonus.  What are you talking about?”

“Well, you and me and Megatron all have Minicons.  But we don't have all the Minicons, now do we?  Somebody else has been collecting them as well, no?”

“What, you mean the Autobots?”

“Ding ding ding!  We have a winner!”!  Congratulations, champ!  I’m so proud of you.”

Demolishor was really starting to see why Megatron was the way he was.  Having to deal with Starscream and Cyclonus was not easy.  “So what if the Autobots have a bunch of Minicons?  They’re not gonna give ‘em to us.  And they’re always linked up in battle, so it’s not like we can just take ‘em.”  It was so obvious, he couldn’t believe that Cyclonus was even entertaining the idea.  And he was supposed to be the smart one!  Some genius.

“Well duh!” Cyclonus agreed, though his laughter somehow felt condescending.  “What, you think I wanted to walk right up to the Autobots’ front door. ‘Knock knock!  Excuse me, neighbor, might I borrow some of those Minicons you’ve got stashed away?’  I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.”

“Just tell me the plan before I bash your face in,” Demolishor groaned.  “I’m at the end of my patience.”

Cyclonus rolled his eyes.  “Do you know what coercion is?”

“No?”  Language had never been Demolishor’s forte.

“Okay, okay.  Well, let’s say the Autobots have a very exploitable weakness.  And let’s say we’re a couple of guys willing and able to exploit said weakness in exchange for Minicons . . .”

“Like blackmail?”

Cyclonus frowned.  “Is that blackmail?  You’d think this kind of situation would have a cool word to go with it.  ‘Strong-arm?; maybe?  Oh, it doesn’t matter.  The point is, I have a plan.”

A plan.  This loser had a plan.  Demolishor wanted to laugh.  But despite his misgivings, it was still more than Demolishor had.

“Okay, fine.  What’s this weakness you’re talking about?”

Instead of answering the question like a normal person, Cyclonus de-coupled from Crumplezone and held the small, confused-looking Minicon up towards Demolishor’s face. 

Demolishor didn’t get it.

“Their weakness is Minicons?”

Once more, Cyclonus rolled his eyes, though he did set Crumplezone down on the floor.  “No, Demolishor.  The weakness of the Autobots is not Minicons.”

“Then what is it?”

A toothy grin spread across Cyclonus’s face, nearly splitting the thing in two.

“Their weakness is humans.”

Chapter 3: Carlos

Carlos was not enjoying life.  He didn't know how it had all gone so wrong.  One day, it was just him and his best friends, hanging out at the skate park, watching movies, being kids, the next, Rad and Alexis were on Mars.  They said they were with the Mafia?  Carlos wouldn't have believed them if not for all of the other weirdness that had surrounded them lately.  Mr. Ruthers couldn't have possibly had a normal job.

Honestly, he wouldn't even have minded so much if they’d at least bothered to let him in on what they were up to.  But Carlos was too dumb to be seen with his best freakin’ friends these days – had to rely on a shady-ass motorcyclist just to come close to getting involved.

The worst part was: Carlos didn't have any other friends.  Without Rad and Alexis, every day was a monotonous concoction of: wake up, go to school, go home, do homework, sleep.  What a crappy way to live.

Today too, was going to be the same.  Carlos saw Rad and Alexis chatting by the lockers like they often did.  There was a part of him that longed to stroll up, crack some dumb joke, and invite them to burgers at Burger Batallion for dinner, but he quashed it.  Instead he stopped at his locker just long enough to grab his skateboard, ignored Alexis’s attempt to get his attention, and left.  He may not have had friends anymore, but at least he still had his skateboard.

Nobody could take that away from him.

Chapter 4: Demolishor

Demolishor wasn’t sure how he felt about this plan. It wasn’t a bad plan. The Autobots absolutely did put way too much stock in their squishy little human companions; Cyclonus was spot on about that. It just seemed in poor taste to target tiny, helpless creatures like this. Demolishor was a warrior, dammit!  He wanted fun battles with worthy opponents. He didn’t want to be stuck in alt mode, awkwardly sitting on a hill alongside Cyclonus, and using Blackout’s ability to keep watch on a building full of human newsparks.

“This is so stupid,” he grumbled, not for the first time.  What are we even doing here?”

“We’re looking for the boy, Demolishor,” Cyclonus sighed.  “Same as we were the last seven times you asked this question.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’d stop asking if I felt less stupid doing this.  I mean, look at us.  If anyone looks at this hill, they’re gonna have questions.  I thought you didn’t want the humans asking questions.”

Cyclonus’s EM field flickered in irritation.  “Humans have tanks and helicopters.  It’s fine.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s okay that you feel that way, but unless you want to lose to Starscream, you’d better try your darndest to find that boy.”

Demolishor heaved a heavy sigh as he shifted his vision through the building’s various walls.  He didn’t know what Cyclonus expected him to find.  It was easy to pick out one specific human when there were only two to choose between, but there were easily hundreds in this building.  And at least a third of them could have feasibly been their target.  It didn’t help that Blackout was colorblind.

Saying any of this to Cyclonus would have felt too much like whining, however, so instead he replied with another thought that was weighing uncomfortably on his mind.  “Why are you helping me anyway?”

“Huh?” Cyclonus sounded genuinely confused. It was an unusual feat for a know-it-all like him.

“I mean, there can only be one winner of the competition, right?  So why bring me in on your little plan?  Wouldn’t it be better for you if you keep it to yourself?”

“I guess,” Cyclonus said, drawing out the words as he considered his response.

“Well?”

“Well, I mean – I dunno – it just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Demolishor rotated on his treads to fully face the Helicopter.  It probably was a rather intimidating sight, to stare down the gun barrels of a Tank, but standing side-by-side would no longer cut it.  It was also a strange sight, to look at a mech with Blackout activated.  He could see past Cyclonus’s armor, straight through to his near-blinding spark.

“Hey, don’t get touchy.  I’m not gonna stab you in the back or anything.”

“Somehow, you saying that does not make me feel better.”

Cyclonus’s rotors did a quick twirl.  Was he getting antsy?  Demolishor wasn’t the best at interpreting rotor-speak.

“Ugh, I mean, I guess I – I dunno – I just feel like I owe you one.  After last time.  That’s all,” Cyclonus growled.  The words were begrudgingly sentimental, not that Demolishor blamed him.  “And that’s as touchy-feely as we’re getting right now.”

“G-good!” Demolishor snapped back.  He wasn’t mad, just uncomfortable.  Mushy feelings would do that to a guy.  Still, despite all of the posturing and mutual discomfort, Cyclonus’s words felt true.  After taking care of his sorry aft in that disastrous underground outing, then taking care of his sorry aft in the aftermath while he came down from whatever crazy delusions he’d been under, a fact which was currently netting him accusations of softness from their supreme leader, Cyclonus did, in fact, owe him one.

And better either of them get the prize than Starscream.

“Ooh, look!  A distraction!” Cyclonus chimed, suddenly back to his normal cheery self.  Demolishor rotated to face the human-holding building once more, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“What slag are you on about now?” he groaned, after a moment’s search turned up nothing.

Cyclonus chittered softly.  “Turn off the Minicon and look outside.  To the left of the building.”

And here Demolishor was thinking his Minicon’s power would come in handy for a change.  Had he really spent all that time in such a disorienting state for no reason?  With a huff, he blinked out of Blackout’s x-ray vision and did as he was told.

“Wait, what?”

“Right?”

The building was a fair distance away, but the brilliant purple of the Two Wheeler’s paintjob was clear even from all the way up here.

“What’s that little bastard doing here?” Demolishor gaped.  “I thought these guys didn’t go nowhere alone.”

“Why, what a wonderful question!” Cyclonus chimed back.  “I think I’ll ask him!”

“What?!”  Rotors were already spinning; Demolishor had to transform to root mode and grab Cyclonus by the hub to keep him from taking off, an act which earned him an uncomfortably flirty groan from his companion.  He tried to not let it throw him off.  “Are you kidding me?!  There’s no way I’m letting you go down there!  ‘Specially not after what happened last time.”

Despite his hold on them, Cyclonus did not stop spinning his rotors, letting them awkwardly clatter against Demolishor’s hand.  They didn’t have enough momentum to be painful, but Demolishor wasn’t enjoying the sensation either.  He gave the hub a squeeze.  “Cyclonus!”

“There were . . . circumstances last time,” he said slowly.  “C’mon, we’ve been on how many missions together?”

“A lot,” Demolishor said after a moment.

“And on how many of them did I flip my lid?”

“One.”

“Exactly,” Cyclonus laughed, though the sound was more strained than usual.  “I swear, a guy has one mental breakdown and suddenly he’s made of glass.”

In Demolishor’s defense, said mental breakdown had been terrifying to witness.  Annoying too.  Mostly annoying, actually.  Demolishor didn’t do terrified.

“Well you sure as frag aren’t made of the same stuff as a Tank.”

Cyclonus stopped trying to spin his rotors.  “Aww, Megatron was right.  You really did go soft. – ack!”  Demolishor squeezed the rotor hub with enough strength to dent it.

“Who’s gone soft now?” Demolishor warned.

“Ooh, keep doing that,” Cyclonus moaned.  Demolishor yanked back his hand, as though shocked.

It was all the opening Cyclonus needed to take to the sky, lingering playfully in the air overhead.  “Aww, you’re blushing!”

“Cyclonus, you freak, get back here!”

Cyclonus bobbed up and down in what must have been a laugh.  “Relax, buddy.  I’m just gonna take a gander at what that little Two-Wheeler is up to.  He can’t do anything to me up in the air anyway.”

“What do you think you’re gonna do?  Sneak up on them?  You’re not exactly quiet!”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me,” Cyclonus giggled.  “You just keep looking for that human kid.”

“Dammit, Cyclonus.  You’re not leaving me!”

“Buh-bye now!”  It was the last thing he said before he took off, distantly following the path of the Two-Wheeler.  What an absolute aft!

Well, Demolishor wasn’t about to stay here by himself.  No matter what he’d said, if Cyclonus found that kid without Demolishor, it was hard to imagine he wouldn’t proceed with the plan sans Demolishor.  And that was not allowed to happen!

A Tank making its way through a human city probably wasn’t very subtle, but frag it all, Demolishor needed to follow his partner!

To make sure he wasn’t double-crossed.

And not because he was worried or anything.

Obviously.

Chapter 5: Carlos

Visiting the skate park usually made Carlos feel better, but today?  Not so much.  Usually, Rad would have been with him.  And sometimes Alexis too.  Rad and Alexis had ditched him for the mafia though – however that had happened, so they weren’t worth thinking about.

Carlos had come here to skate, but now that he was here, standing over the empty bowl, he didn’t quite feel up for it.  Instead, he took a seat at its edge, his legs dangling over the side, and contemplated every choice he’d ever made that had led him to such a miserable existence.

For five seconds, anyway.  As much as he wanted to wallow in his depression, he very much did not want to waste time thinking about any ex-friends, and those things were proving to be mutually exclusive.  So instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his lucky charm.

He didn’t exactly know what it was supposed to be.  It looked like some kind of high-tech chip – green, and square, and small enough to fit in his hand.  He’d found it on the floor of his classroom after detention one day, and well – he was never one to resist a shiny object with no obvious owner.  Ever since he’d found it, however, he found his grades improving, and his time spent in detention decreasing as well.  His allowance increased.  He won a new computer in a  school raffle.  Honestly, aside from the Rad and Alexis situation, he was feeling remarkably lucky.

Who knew?  Maybe Rad and Alexis were bad luck charms?  Maybe cutting them out of his life was for the best.

The loud puttering of a motorcycle reached his ears, but he paid it no mind, instead preferring to keep his focus on the lucky charm. 

Hey buddy, you think you could fix this mess my life’s turned into?

It was a stupid thought, laying his hopes on a series of coincidences, but it wasn’t like he had any better options at this point.

The sound of the motorcycle grew louder, nearer.  That was weird.  The parking lot was nearby, but not quite this nearby.  Carlos slid the charm back in his pocket and turned around to see what the hubbub was about. 

What he found was a familiar spooky man seated atop a familiar purple motorcycle some ten feet away. 

“What the hell?!” He shrieked, leaping to his feet with so much haste that he nearly toppled right into the skate bowl.  He took a second to regain his composure (and his balance) and continued.  “You’ve got some nerve showing your face around me after last time!”  He paused as a thought occurred to him.  “And what, did you follow me all the way back from Seattle?!  What is wrong with you?”

The rider stared blankly at him, at least Carlos thought he did.  It was hard to tell where he was looking behind the helmet.

“You gonna say anything, buddy?”

“I spoke with Hot Shot.”

“Huh?”  What did he mean he spoke with Hot Shot?  Who the hell was Hot Shot?  Wasn’t that the name of Mr. Ruthers’s stupid flashy car?

“It occurs to me that leaving you all alone on those train tracks, even though you explicitly told me to, was a cruel act.  Humans are fragile, and not incredibly maneuverable.  I did not realize that abandoning you would potentially leave you stranded and at risk of starving to death.  It was not my intention to kill you.”

Was this guy insane?  “What the hell are you on about?  ‘Humans are fragile?’  Dude, you sound like a freak!  Look like one too.  Go away.  I don’t want your crazy to rub off on me.”  It probably wasn’t the best thing to say to someone who was probably part of the mob, but Carlos was past the point of caring.  He wanted nothing more to do with Rad and Alexis’s creepy friends.

“Suit yourself,” said the rider, though he remained steadfast in place.  This guy was so freakin’ weird.

“Well?”

“You’re not going to die if I leave you here?”

“What, no?!  I’m not a baby!  What the hell is your deal, man?”

“Just thought I’d check.  Wouldn’t want a repeat incident.  I don’t have any more apologies in me.”

“Apology, what?  That wasn’t an apology.  That was you being weird at me for twenty seconds.”

The motorcycle briefly sank on its wheels, as if it were shrugging.  The rider, however, remained eerily unmoving.  “Very well.  I am sorry, human, for leaving you in a life-threatening situation.  It won’t happen again.”

“What?”

“Now I need to get back.  I’m not supposed to be here right now.”

“The hell –”

“Goodbye.”

“– are you going on about?”  Carlos’s last words were drowned out by the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, as it revved up and zipped off, quickly as it had come.  Carlos had no idea what to make of the incident.  “Good God, what was that?”

It was a pointless question to ask.  Carlos knew he wasn’t going to get an actual answer to anything involving this mafia nonsense, and truth be told, he didn’t want one.  What he wanted was to go back home, eat dinner, and figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life. 

For the first time since arriving in the skate park, the wheels of his skateboard touched the pavement as he hopped on, ready to go wherever fate decided to take him today.

Somewhere overhead, the sound of a helicopter grew louder.

CRASH!

It had all happened so fast.  One moment, he was rolling down the sidewalk, the next, a giant hunk of pale blue metal fell from the sky, before unfolding itself into a giant robot.  And the next yet, Carlos was no longer on the ground, but held tight in this creature’s massive hands. 

The thing regarded him for a moment with glassy, green eyes.  “Now, now,” it said, its voice disconcertingly human despite its alien appearance, “what did he want with you?”

“H-huh?” Carlos squeaked in a very manly way.

“Guess we’ll find out, huh?” the creature laughed, before leaping into the air once more.  Within seconds, it had folded itself back into a helicopter, with Carlos securely seated in its cockpit.  Then it was flying off to some unknown destination, and as Carlos was taken farther and farther from everything he knew, only one thought percolated through his mind.

I don’t think this is the mafia.

Chapter 6: Red Alert

It was one more tedious day working on the base’s security.  As much as he liked problem-solving, even Red Alert had limits to his patience and brainpower.  And there was nothing quite so frustrating as technology, even for someone as tech savvy as him.  If Alexis hadn’t been there to act as an enthusiastic sounding board, he likely would have driven himself mad long ago.

“What’s wrong?” Alexis chimed from the little nest she’d made for herself on the floor between two terminals.  It was just the right size for a human and Minicon to sit side-by-side, and it was just warm enough to be comfortable.  Every day she’d cozy up in her little spot with Sureshock and her laptop, and work on her own projects.  Red Alert never would have admitted it, but it was adorable.

Oh right, she’d asked a question.

“Hrrnh?” was his eloquent reply.

“You’ve got that look,” she explained.  “The frustration grimace.”

“I’m not grimacing,” Red Alert protested, but faltered at Alexis’s unimpressed stare.  “I’m frowning.”

“Why?  Is there anything I can help with?”

Red Alert shrugged.  “Not as such,” he sighed.  “I’m trying to set up thresholds that, when crossed by anyone not on the whitelist, will remotely activate the warp gate, and send them to a random set of coordinates somewhere on Earth.”

“Is that anyone or just any bot?” Alexis questioned.  She did have a point.  If a random human were to somehow wind up inside the base, it could end in disaster.  Humans really were very fragile.

“It should only respond to a Cybertronian’s EM field, but it would be good to test it on humans, just in case.  I wouldn’t want to send one of you to Antarctica by mistake.”

“Yeah, that’d be pretty rough,” Alexis laughed.  “But what about this is causing the problem?  Is it the thresholds or the whitelist?”

“Neither.  It’s the gate, actually.  Technology always can be finicky, and the warp gate really is disinclined to open a second portal so close to its origin.  And when you’re ripping apart the fabric of reality, the last thing you want is a finicky portal.”

“What would happen?”

He must have made a pretty dire face, because Alexis didn’t wait for his reply.  “That bad, huh?”

“At best, you find yourself in a parallel dimension, or displaced in time.  Most of the mid-level threats would merely result in the death or dismemberment of the teleport-ee.  And at the extreme end . . . well, it’s unlikely, but there is always the threat of accidentally creating a wormhole that devours the surrounding space up to and including the planet we are on.  I’ve heard of it happening at least once . . . “ he trailed off as Alexis’s eyes grew as wide as flying saucers.  “The chances of that happening are less than 0.00000000001 percent.  We would not use the technology so liberally if that was a significant risk.  And the planet that I heard about was using an entirely different version of the technology.”

“R-right… Maybe we should try another direction?”

“Another direction…” A thought struck Red Alert.  “Come to think of it, if we implement measures to disorient the intruders, then it may buy the warp pad enough time to calibrate itself and minimize errors brought on by the range . . . “

“Glad to help?”

At last, Red Alert was on the edge of a real breakthrough.  It was for that reason that he was none-too thrilled to see Hot Shot come traipsing into the command room with Rad on his heel.

“Hey there Red!” he chirped.  Only he didn’t.  Red Alert expected him to, sure; it was his usual state of being.  But today he was uncharacteristically preoccupied.

“Hot Shot?”

An uncomfortable grin broke out on the mech’s face.  That was the look of a mech that had messed up.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he snapped back.  That was more in-line with his usual demeanor, at least.  “I just – um – have you seen Sideways anywhere?”

Well that wasn’t good.  He may have proven himself in battle, but Hot Shot aside, nobody at the base fully trusted Sideways.  To hear he’d managed to sneak off didn’t inspire confidence, in either him or Hot Shot.

Rad piped in to elaborate.  “The three of us were talking about manners and stuff.  Sideways knows like, nothing about humans for someone who knows so much about Minicons on Earth.  So we thought we’d give him a crash course.”

“Oh yeah.  He does keep calling me human Alexis, come to think of it,” Alexis mused.

“Yeah.  And in the middle of the conversation, he said there was something he needed to do and ran off.  Which wasn’t super polite of him, but I guess you can’t expect the lessons to sink in right away.

“But I mean, we were talking about apologies.  It’s not like humans have the monopoly on apologies.”  Hot Shot folded his arms over his chest with a groan.

“Honestly, given his demeanor, it wouldn’t surprise me if he wasn’t aware of the custom,” Red Alert said with a snort.  It was a bit of a mean jab, but Sideways hadn’t done much to endear himself to Red Alert, so Red Alert didn’t feel bad about taking pot shots.

“Wow, I never knew you were so catty,” Hot Shot said with a half-hearted smirk.  It seemed he wasn’t in much of a mood for banter right now.

“Do you think he went to apologize to someone?” Alexis piped up. 

“Who?” Hot Shot said with a glare.  “He doesn’t know anybody.”

Alexis fell silent at that.  She was surely thinking of her answer, but whatever she may have come up with would never be heard.  At that moment, Red Alert’s command terminal pinged – there was an incoming communications request.  From Cyclonus.  The fuel in his lines turned to ice.

“Red Alert?” Alexis questioned.  “Is everything alright?”  Thankfully, Hot Shot answered for him.

“Oh man, why’s he calling?”

“Who?” Rad asked.  Of course, these humans didn’t have the best vantage point from which to read the screen.

“Cyclonus,” Red Alert murmured.  Whatever reaction the humans may have had was lost to him.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the name flickering across the screen.

“You gonna get that?” Hot Shot asked.

He supposed he had to.  It would have been better if Optimus was present, but there was no guarantee that Cyclonus would call again, and whatever matter he was calling about could have warranted immediate action.  So Red Alert braced himself and hit “accept.”

If seeing the name on the screen had frightened him, the image that met him now left him terrified.  Cyclonus sat slightly to the left of center-screen with a smug grin on his face, while Demolishor lingered in the background, holding a struggling human in his clumsy grasp.

“Carlos?!”  He may not have been able to read the text, but even with his weak vantage point, there was no keeping the full-screen image from Rad’s eyes.  And Alexis was quick to scurry to a better position of her own, only to let out a shriek when she saw the full picture.  Evidently, the human was someone they knew.

“Hi there!” Cyclonus sang, cheerful in his sadism.  Red Alert wished he could reach through the display and smash that smug smile off the mech’s face.  “How’s it rockin’?”

“What do you want?!” Hot Shot snapped.

“Ooh, I got the party line,” he giggled.  “Check it out, Demolishor!  Isn’t it adorable?”

“Those are the humans we were lookin’ for,” Demolishor groaned from the background.  “So who’s this guy?”

“No one!” Rad insisted, perhaps a little too forcefully to be believable.  But Cyclonus, unfortunately, was not a fool.

“It’s Carlos, apparently,” he chuckled.  “You two must be very close, huh, human?” 

For a moment, Rad stiffened, terrified to be acknowledge by this monster.  But his fear quickly gave way to foolish bravery.  “You said you wanted me?  Take me!  Leave him out of it.  He has nothing to do with us.”

“I’m sure,” Cyclonus said, rolling his eyes.

“What do you want?” Red Alert demanded.  It was better if he didn’t let Cyclonus talk too long.  And better still if Rad and Alexis had no contact with him.

“Ooh, I like a mech that’s all business!”

“Cyclonus,” Demolishor groaned, but nobody bothered acknowledging him.

Cyclonus continued.  “So here’s the deal.  Demolishor and I are in need of some Minicons.  And you happen to have a whole bunch of them.  And, unfortunately for you, I happen to know just how much you care about these little fleshbags, yeah?  Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

Red Alert gritted his teeth and said nothing.  He could see where this was going, and he had no idea how to handle it.

“Yeah, so we’re looking to make a little trade.  I’ve sent over some coordinates.  Show up in an hour and hand over your Minicons, and we give you the human.  And if you don’t – well – we’ve got no attachment to the little guy.  Right Demolishor?”

“Uh…”

“I’m curious to see what happens if you expose a live human to the void of space, myself.”

“What’s wrong with you?!” Hot Shot shrieked.

“Hahah, nothing’s wrong with me.  I got my leverage.  And I got my demands.  Meet them or don’t.  But I hope for little Carlos’s sake you do.  Bye bye!”  He cut the transmission, leaving an empty display in its wake.

And with that, Hot Shot said the one thing everyone was thinking.

“Frag it all.”

Chapter 7: Optimus

The base was in a state of chaos in light of Cyclonus’s message to Red Alert.  He and Smokescreen had been notified right away, and the Autobots and their human companions had met in the warp bay – the easiest location for all of them to participate in the conversation.  Most of them, anyway.  Sideways was notably absent. 

“You think Sideways sold us out?” Smokescreen asked, voicing the question that was on everyone’s minds.

“He didn’t sell us out,” Hot Shot insisted.  “He wouldn’t.”

“And yet Rad and Alexis’s little friend winds up in Decepticon hands.”

“Whether or not he did, the fact remains that he didn’t have to,” Red Alert butted in.  “Rad and Alexis are under our protection, but there’s nothing stopping the Decepticons from hurting other people.  And the Decepticons aren’t stupid.  If they’ve done any reconnaissance on our humans, then it wouldn’t be hard to find the people they’re in contact with.  Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Bam!

All eyes in the room turned to Rad, who had hit the wall with a surprising amount of force for one so small.  But humans were fragile, and he was now cradling his right hand as tears welled up in his eyes.  “You promised!” he hissed.  “You promised that you’d protect us!”

“We did,” said Optimus.  This entire situation was a mess, and one they should have seen coming.  Even without precognition, Red Alert was right.  Something like this was inevitable.  But that wouldn’t fix things with Rad.  “I am sorry this has happened.”

“Sorry?” he choked.  “Sorry won’t get Carlos back!  What are you going to do?”

“What can we do?” Smokescreen questioned, helpless.  “If we give them our Minicons, we’re as good as dead.  And Cons got no honor.  There’s no shot they’ll leave Earth unscathed.”

“Optimus, you’ve got that whole future sight thing going on with Sparkplug,” Hot Shot tried, his voice desperate and weak.  “You can find the answer, can’t you?”

As if Optimus hadn’t tried that already.  It was the first time that Sparkplug had shown him nothing at all.  Whatever was about to happen, it was somehow beyond his Minicon’s perception.  Optimus shook his head.  “There’s still much we don’t know about the Minicons.”

“Translation: Sparkplug showed him jack,” Smokescreen grumbled.

“Am I interrupting something?” 

Well, at least that solved one of their problems.  Sideways was standing in the doorway to the warp bay, looking, for his part, genuinely perplexed.  Both Hot Shot and Smokescreen lunged towards him; Smokescreen was closer, but Sideways was faster.  He easily dodged Smokescreen only to fall into Hot Shot’s clutches.  Or rather, embrace.

“Frag man, you can’t just run off like that.  I was so worried.”  He was quick to relinquish his hold and shuffle a few steps away, as though ashamed to have shown such a display of affection.  Those two did seem to be getting close, at least on Hot Shot’s part.

Smokescreen was less thrilled.

“Where were you?”  He stomped towards Sideways, who darted behind Hot Shot to avoid the wrath of the looming industrial mech.

“I was making amends.  Isn’t that something you people encourage?”

“You’re still on probation,” Smokescreen growled.  “You shouldn’t be going anywhere unsupervised.”

“Sorry,” Sideways said, hesitant.  “It was only meant to be a quick thing.”

“I’m just glad you came back,” Hot Shot said, deflating.

“Erm Sideways?” Alexis piped up.  He hadn’t been particularly interested in the humans up to this point, but he did acknowledge her bid for attention.

“What is it, human Alexis?”

“Who was it you were apologizing to?”

Sideways cocked his head.  “That kid from the city.  The one I got stuck in the tunnels?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Is that a bad thing?” Sideways eventually ventured, clearly aware that something was wrong with his answer.

“Carlos,” Optimus explained, “has been taken prisoner by the Decepticons, Demolishor and Cylonus, and they are holding him hostage in exchange for all of our Minicons.”

“Oh,” said Sideways, and then, “Sorry?”

“We’re wasting time!” Rad snapped.  “Are you helping him or not?  ‘Cuz if you don’t, I will.”  How he intended to take on Cyclonus and Demolishor was a mystery, but Optimus had no doubt that Rad meant what he said.  But this shouldn’t have been his fight.  Optimus had promised to protect the humans after all, and their loved ones included.  The humans had every right to be angry.

“It’s not that simple, kid,” Smokescreen groaned.  “It’s obviously a trap.  They expect us to come in, guns blazing.  There’s no way we can just rush in.”

“Rad is right,” said Optimus, with an air of finality. 

Smokescreen’s eyes widened.  “Optimus?”

“It’s pointless to waste time fighting.  We made a promise to the people of this planet, and it is our duty to keep it.  We’re going.”

“Do we have a plan, at least?”  Smokescreen rested his hands on his hips, a grimace on his lips.

Optimus considered their options.  “There’s only two of them, and their Minicons aren’t as powerful as ours.  If we approach from multiple angles, we should be able to thwart them.”

“I don’t like the word ‘should.’”

“Should is all we got,” Hot Shot shrugged, before turning to face Optimus.  “Where do you need me, boss?” 

“Red Alert, pull up a display of the coordinates and surrounding areas,” Optimus ordered.  Red Alert was quick to oblige, using his drone, Laserbeak, to project a hologram of the meeting spot over the hangar.

“Smokescreen, you and I will come from the south.  Hot Shot, I want you to the north.”

“I’m coming too,” Rad said, with no room for argument.

Smokescreen huffed.  “If you want to get in our way, be our guest.”

Optimus, however, had other ideas.  “Highwire and Sureshock’s abilities could be useful to us, and the humans do have an easier time of sneaking around.  We might only need to create a diversion long enough for them to reach Carlos and break him out of wherever those two are keeping him.”

“Then it looks like I’m also coming with you,” Alexis squeaked.

“Are you okay with that?” Red Alert asked, his voice soft.

“Y-yeah.  I don’t like being close to the battles, but I can’t stand the thought that we got Carlos caught up in all this.  Besides, Sureshock is more likely to listen if I’m there.”

“Thank you, Alexis,” said Optimus.  “I am sorry that it has come to this.”

“What about me?”

Sideways was looking at him expectantly.  It would have made sense to invite him along.  They needed the numbers.  He could have played bodyguard for the humans, served as back up for Hot Shot, or even covered another flank.  However . . .

“I’m afraid I can’t trust your judgment right now, Sideways.  You will stay on base with Red Alert unless we call you in for backup.”

“What? But you need the numbers –”

“Listen to the Prime, kid,” said Smokescreen.  “You’re not gonna get anywhere around here if you can’t follow orders.”

Sideways narrowed his eyes, but otherwise said nothing, backing away from the group to lean against the nearest wall.  Hot Shot’s worried gaze lingered on him for a few seconds, but he didn’t remain distracted for long.  He turned back to Optimus, excited energy radiating through his EM field.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Optimus didn’t feel at all confident about the mission, but at least he had the enthusiasm of his men.  There were twenty minutes left before the rendezvous.  Hopefully what little time they had left to plan would be enough.

Chapter 8: Carlos

The day was not going as expected.  The plan had been to go to school, mope at the skatepark, blow off homework, and go home.  But how could he possibly imagine that at some point over the course of the day, he’d be abducted by a sentient helicopter, used as leverage in some kind of giant alien robot hostage negotiation, then held at gunpoint by a tinier robot in a storage shed?  Was any of this even real?

Of course it was.  He’d heard Rad’s voice in that call.  Rad and Alexis weren’t working for the mob.  They were working for the giant alien robots.  The giant alien robots who were apparently in some kind of conflict with another group of giant alien robots.  It was hard to piece together more than that. 

He knew that the helicopter robot was called Cyclonus.  He knew there was a second one that turned into a tank, but did not catch its name.  He knew that they’d taken him to the old, abandoned lumber mill outside town; that the two had argued over who would watch him while they did . . . whatever it was they were doing; and he knew that the smaller robot had emerged from the bigger one in one surreal show of light and color.

Carlos shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest, trying his hardest not to cry.  As far as he was concerned, crying was for women and children, and he was neither.  So he shouldn’t have been crying.  And yet, tears stubbornly kept rolling down his cheeks.

Maybe he could cry a little.  He’d earned it.

There was a whirr of gears as the small blue-and-yellow robot in the corner shifted.  Carlos froze, waiting for the inevitable volley of gunfire to follow.  When it failed to come after several seconds, he allowed himself to look at his captor.

The thing was still as ever, its small hand wrapped around the grip of some kind of alien gun, pointed at him.  Carlos tore his gaze from the creature – the last thing he wanted to see right now was his own impending doom.

The tears were pouring again.  Carlos needed to calm down before this little robot mistook his show of emotion for some kind of biological warfare.  Also, it was embarrassing.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his good luck charm.  It was stupid – luck wasn’t real, and what was luck supposed to do for him now anyway?  But it was all he had, and though it may have been stupid, he really needed a little comfort.

Today was so messed up.  Could it get any worse?

There was shifting from the direction of his robotic guard. 

Stupid question.

Carlos didn’t want to look up.  He didn’t want to find himself staring directly down the barrel of a gun, ready to blow his head off, and he knew that was what he would find if he looked.  But he simply had to know.

So as slowly as he could, he raised his head.

The robot was closer than it had been before, but the soulless little glass-covered panel that seemed to be its eyes were no longer locked on Carlos, but on his good luck charm.

Well that’s weird.

“Hey there little guy,” he tried, not entirely convinced the thing could understand him, “whatcha lookin’ at?”

The robot gave no response, instead keeping its attention fully locked on the charm.  Carlos had to wonder, how invested in the charm was this thing?  Still moving as slowly as he could, he set the charm on the floor, and, after making sure the robot was focused on it and not him, he began to scoot away.

He made it about five feet before the gun went off.

“Holy crap!” he screeched.  Thankfully, the thing had missed, hitting the ground a little to Carlos’s left.  The robot may have been drawn to the good luck charm, but apparently it wasn’t about to give up on its orders. 

“Okay okay, my bad,” Carlos said, careful not to move an inch, lest he incur this thing’s wrath any more than he already had.  “You take the charm, just don’t shoot at me again.” 

At first, it didn’t seem like it was listening, but after a moment, it did sidle its way up to the spot where Carlos had left his charm lying on the floor.  Then, without taking its eyes off of him, it stooped to pick it up.

The moment its hand made contact with the glossy metal finish of the charm, there was a flash of light – Carlos threw up an arm to shield his eyes, probably a bad idea considering the trigger-happy robot well within shooting range, but perhaps the thing was also distracted by the light show.  Whatever the case, Carlos didn’t quite see what happened next, but when the light levels were low enough that he at last felt safe to lower his arm, he came to realize that he’d clearly missed something important.

The robot that had been standing guard over him was now on the floor, unmoving, and in its place was a new robot, small and cobalt blue, with an orange visor covering its beady black eyes.  Great, just what he needed: more robots.  This one, at least, didn’t seem to be carrying a gun.  If Carlos was gonna escape, this was his chance.

As fast as he could, he clambered to his feet and made a break for the door, throwing it open and lunging through with no issue.  At last, his first taste of freedom!  So long as he avoided any more robots, he’d be able to find the exit to this mill, get to a major road, and . . . hitchhike his way home or something.

It didn’t matter.  His only goal right now was escaping the robots.  The rest, he’d deal with once he got to that point.  So he kept moving forward, running as fast as he could, staying low to the ground, and using buildings and objects to block the sight lines of any robots looking to stop him.  Of course, the distinct patter of little metal boots on the ground at his back didn’t leave him optimistic in so far as his ‘avoid robots’ goal was concerned.

Carlos chanced a glance over his shoulder to confirm what his ears told him – the little blue robot was toddling after him, somehow keeping up despite the leisurely manner with which it moved.

It was just one more thing he’d figure out when it came time.  For now, all he could do was run.

Chapter 10: Rad

So far, their mission was going to plan.  Red Alert had dropped them with the other Autobots, and once they’d made their move, Sureshock was quick to teleport them to the back side of the mill, completely opposite the Autobots.  The Decepticons would have seen them as the lesser threat, provided they saw them at all, or that had been the idea, at least.  Once in the mill proper, filled with a dozen rotting buildings, poor visibility, and the distant sound of gunfire, Rad was beginning to feel nervous.

“Hurry up, Rad,” Alexis cried out from several feet ahead.  Despite her urging she too seemed to have no idea where she was going. 

And then there was Highwire.

“Hey Alexis?”

“What?” she called back, impatient.

“Highwire’s going the other way.”

“What?

Rad had told Highwire to stay close to him – that was his only real defense against the Decepticons, after all.  But it was impossible to ever truly understand what was going through the little guy's head.  He was toddling away from the safety of the group, towards one of the warehouses.  Rad wasn't about to leave him.

“Where's he going?” Alexis mumbled, but aborted her own search to follow the group, with Sureshock in tow.

“Maybe he's sensed Carlos?” Rad ventured.

“I don't know how that's even possible.”  Alexis clearly wasn't convinced.  She didn't need to be though.  Logic and problem solving were good for designing a security system, but when it came to the Minicons, Rad felt it was better to rely on his gut.

Highwire led them through a small maze of abandoned buildings, weaving tightly around corners and sticking to the shadows.  The stealthy intent of his pathing made for an odd contrast with his normal gait, but at least he seemed somewhat aware of their need to remain unseen.

Soon enough, it became clear that he was approaching one specific building.  The thing was a little closer to the battle than Rad would have liked to be, but if that was where Carlos was, he’d have to take that risk.

It was at that point, however, that Highwire stopped dead in his tracks.

“What's wrong, buddy? Did you find Carlos?”

“Rad…” Alexis sounded uneasy.  She always sounded uneasy, true, but something told him this time, it was something important.  Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the building to take in his surroundings.

An unfamiliar Minicon stood several feet to his right, staring at their group with curiosity.  What was this?

“Hey there, little guy.  What’re you doin’?”  The Minicon regarded him with an unreadable expression.

“Be careful, Rad.  Something isn't right here.”  Alexis was worrying again.  “Why is it activated?”

Okay, that was a good point.  He hadn't done it, but the only others with the ability to activate the Minicons were the Decepticons.  Right?

Whatever the Minicon’s origins, it no longer appeared to be interested in them.  Instead, it turned toward the building that Highwire had been leading them to and let out a robotic whistle.

“What's it doing?” Rad asked, not really expecting an answer.  But what else was he supposed to say at a time like this?

“I think it's communicating,” Alexis suggested.  “Look at Sureshock and Highwire.”

Indeed, the Minicons in question were standing a little taller, their attention fully locked on the newcomer.  They didn't even flinch as the sound of a nearby explosion sent the humans tumbling to the ground.

“We need to get out of here,” Alexis said.  “Sureshock, can you teleport us inside that building?”

Sureshock didn't budge.

“Highwire?” Rad tried to the same effect.

“It's no use.  We can't leave our Minicons, and they're not going anywhere anytime soon.  What do we do?”

Rad really wished he knew.

Thankfully, he didn't have to make the decision.  Within a few seconds, another unfamiliar Minicon came stumbling from the building, making its way towards the first.  It looked to be a little worse for wear, with a dented helmet, and scuffs across its torso.  Rad couldn't think of a time he’d ever seen a Minicon in such a state.

The Minicon didn't make it far.  In fact, nobody had time to do much of anything before a stray missile came flying in, smashing straight into the building that Highwire had led them to.

The wooden structure erupted in a blazing fireball, as support beams collapsed outward and shingles flew in every direction.  If Rad and Alexis hadn't already been on the ground, surely they would have been knocked off their feet.

The heat was intense, even from their distant position (had Sureshock teleported them farther back?)  Rad could feel his skin blister, his eyes burn – even after all he’d been through, this was the closest he’d ever felt to death.

He crawled back to his hands and knees and took in the sight of the carnage.  Alexis was on the ground next to him.  She wore a bewildered look on her face, but seemed otherwise fine.  Sureshock was standing protectively over their group, but Highwire had been knocked off his feet, and now sat as a tangle of limbs on the ground.  The two Minicons from earlier were also on the ground some forty feet away.  They seemed a little bit signed, but were still moving around; they were probably fine.

Beyond the Minicons were the blazing remains of that old building, the flames of which were ravenously licking at a neighboring building.

Carlos.

“Carlos was in there!” Rad cried out.

“What?”

“Carlos!  Highwire was leading us to Carlos!  He was in there!”

“We don't know that,” Alexis protested.  Rad wasn't hearing it though.  They’d failed.  Carlos had been dragged into this mess because of them.  And now he was dead.  Rad wanted to fall to the ground, weeping, but the shock had numbed his body.  All he could do was stare into the consuming fire before him.

“Holy hell!  Rad!  Alexis!”

It couldn't have been.

But it was.

Carlos was racing towards the two of them, his eyes wide and frightened, but otherwise unharmed.  Behind him toddled a blue Minicon.  Was this real?

“Carlos!” Alexis called out.  “I'm so glad you're alright!”

“You're alive,” Rad breathed, unable to muster the energy for anything else.

“What the hell is going on?”  Carlos reached their position and doubled over, wheezing.  Unfortunately, neither Rad nor Alexis knew how to answer.  Between ragged breaths, Carlos elaborated.

“I get kidnapped by a giant, robot helicopter, held at gunpoint by a smaller robot, chased around by another small robot, and now everything’s exploding.  This better be a goddamn dream, man, or I dunno what I’ll do.”

Rad spared a glance for the Minicon that had been following Carlos, now standing at his shoulder, regarding him with the same blank detachment that Highwire displayed.  Where had this little guy come from?  And how had he wound up with Carlos?

“Look,” said Alexis, “we can explain everything. Let's just get away from the explosions first.”  As if to articulate her point, a nearby building, already singed, was obliterated by stray gunfire, sending the three of them flying.

Carlos took a moment to come to his senses, but once he had, he scrambled back to his feet and said, “Fair enough.”

Chapter 11: Demolishor

The fight wasn't going so well.

Demolishor had thought himself a skilled fighter, but Optimus was on another level.  He easily dodged any blow Demolishor threw his way, and had no qualms about getting in close.  It was only Demolishor’s thick armor that helped him, as Optimus knew exactly which joints to go for to leave him off-balance; which points in his armor were the thinnest and best to strike; and where each of his blind spots were, to take him by surprise.  The mech was fast for his size; it was a miracle Demolishor had lasted a minute.  There was no way he’d last another.

Optimus had done a swift kick to the back of Demolishor’s knees, spun around while he was struggling to regain balance, and shot him square in the chest.  Demolishor now lay flat on the ground, a death sentence for a frame as bulky as his.  A blue helm rose into view over the swell of his chest, golden eyes stared into his as a blaster aimed for his face.

Three shots rang out, and Optimus recoiled, clutching his arm and stumbling away.  Cyclonus.

Glad to know he's still alive, at least.

Demolishor took the much-needed opportunity to climb back to his feet.  Optimus had already recovered, and was aiming for Cyclonus, who’d had enough foresight to duck behind a wall.  It gave Demolishor the chance to get off a cheeky shot and stomp backwards, hoping for a little extra space.  Optimus easily dodged, but he’d opted for Cyclonus as the priority target and sped off for the shed he’d hidden behind.

Demolishor let off a few more shots for all the good it did him.  Optimus was prepared to dodge, bobbing and weaving through the blasts with a practiced ease as he moved in on Cyclonus.  Sensing the impending doom, Cyclonus left his hiding spot, and took cover instead on a rooftop.  The rickety building creaked under his weight, but remained standing.

What else could Demolishor do but keep firing?

Chapter 12: Rad

The battle was really heating up.  With some help from Sureshock, the kids had gotten out of the fray, but from their new vantage point on the hilltop, they could still see everything, and what they saw wasn't good.

Optimus was strong, Rad was pretty sure, and Rad and Alexis were well-used to dealing with Demolishor and Cyclonus.  But at the same time, the two-on-one battle was closer than Rad liked.  Worse was the fact that Cyclonus, with his higher vantage point, seemed to have spotted what must have been his Minicon, and was making a bee-line straight for it. 

“Do you think Optimus can win if they have their Minicon powers?” Rad murmured.

“I don't know,” said Alexis, likewise transfixed on the battle below.  “I’ve been trying to get through to Red Alert, but I think there's some kind of communications jammer over the area.”

“Red Alert is right,” said Carlos, equally dazed, but not watching the battle below.  “We should call the police, or like, the army.  The fire department at least.”

“No!” cried Rad, with enough force to make Carlos flinch.

“We can't either way,” said Alexis, more calmly.  “Like I said, we can't call anyone.”

“Then why are we still hanging around?  Let the giant robots fight each other.  Who cares?”

Rad tried not to be angry, tried to remind himself that Carlos didn't know anything.  But it was hard to keep a steady voice as he said, “If the Decepticons win, we’re screwed.”

“The what, now?”

“The guys that kidnapped you,” Alexis supplied.

“Look,” Rad added, “there are good robots and bad robots, and we're working with the good robots to protect the world from the bad robots.”

“Ugh!  Why are there robots at all?!  And what are those little ones doing?”

What indeed?  Rad hadn't been paying much attention to the Minicons, but now that he looked, Highwire, Sureshock, and Carlos’s Minicon all seemed to be communicating – they stood in a circle, staring at each other, and beeping every once in awhile.

“I – uh – I don't know,” Rad admitted.  “This is the first time they've ever done something like this.”

“Sureshock?” Alexis tried, but she received no response.

A distant explosion stole Rad’s attention, and he whirled around to find that Cyclonus, in helicopter from, seemed to have been shot out of the sky, and crashed into one of the few remaining buildings – now a pile of rubble.

Optimus turned back to Demolishor, shooting the ground in front of him to stir up a cloud of dust before charging.  At his back, however, he couldn't see Cyclonus crawling back to his feet, seemingly no worse for wear.

“Optimus!” Rad called out, his voice lost to the roar of the fire, and the distance between them.

At his own back, an electric hum rang out, loud enough to make his skin crawl.  He spun back towards the Minicons, just fast enough to see the last remnants of what must have been a blinding flash of light.  Carlos and Alexis were both covering their eyes.  Rad, however, could see clearly.

The creature was called Perceptor.  It was an awkward-looking entity, about as tall as Sideways.  It bore the same cobalt blue of Highwire, but with creamsicle-orange feet, much like Sureshock, and a head that looked like nothing he’d seen before.  He couldn’t help but feel like this thing was somehow two Minicons in a trenchcoat.

Well, three I guess.

Though it's appearance was unimpressive after months of living around Cybertronians, there was still something spectacular about its presence, as if reality folded in around the entity, leaving the impression of a warped, black aura surrounding its frame.

“Highwire?”

There was no time to wrap his head around what had just happened.  Perceptor was already off, popping down to that charged spot on the ground where Hot Shot and Smokescreen were still lying.

It was impossible to tell what had just happened – certainly not from this distance. But there were a few loud pops, a few power flashes, and then the once-immobilized Autobots were crawling to their feet, every bit as bewildered as Rad was.

What was going on?

Chapter 13: Smokescreen

Smokescreen didn't really understand it.  One moment, he and Hot Shot had been trapped in a stasis field, unable to do anything but helplessly watch Optimus take on the two ‘Con grunts, before disappearing into the chaos and smoke.  The next, a large, garishly-colored Minicon with a freakishly-warped EM field was popping up in front of him, leaving his tanks churning and spark racing.  He’d go to his grave before admitting that he was terrified of a Minicon, but this thing was more of a monster – a perverted imitation of everything a Cybertronian was. 

Smokescreen had thought he’d be dead in the next minute.  Instead, the stasis field that held him down flickered out of existence, and the blanket of electricity that had been disrupting all communication between brain module and body was lifted.  He could move again

Well I'll be damned.

He wasn't about to question his good fortune.  From the sound of it, the battle was still raging.  Optimus needed his help.

“Man, that was wild.”

Whatever Hot Shot was about to say was ignored.  Instead, Smokescreen raced towards the sound of gunfire, ready to throw himself into the fray.  He didn't have to run far.

Cyclonus had taken to the air, maintaining an erratic flight pattern as he did his best to dodge Optimus’s shots, returning his own imprecise volley all the while.  Optimus, meanwhile, had his attention split between Cyclonus's nuisance and Demolishor on the ground, who was hurling far more damaging shots for Optimus to dance around.  Either mech would have been easy pickings for Optimus on his own, but together, in this arrangement, they had him on the back foot.

One would have to go.

Smokescreen had yet to be noticed – an advantage which he needed to utilize while he still had it.  He gauged Demolishor as the bigger threat, so turned his gun on him first.  His Minicon's power pulsed through him as he took aim, infusing the charged particles of his blaster with its own mysterious energy.  Then, he pulled the trigger.

Demolishor crumpled to the ground, as if he’d been caught up in the same stasis field that had taken out Smokescreen and Hot Shot earlier.  All he needed was a few seconds of recharge to get Cyclonus as well.

Cyclonus, however, was quick to reassess the situation.  In a split-second, he’d flung himself from the sky and onto Demolishor’s prone frame.  Smokescreen was already taking aim, and Optimus was already firing, but the crafty ‘Copter was able to use his friend’s body as a shield just long enough to open a warp gate and get the two of them out of there.

Damn.

“Optimus!  You alright?”  Hot Shot came barreling forward the instant the threat was cleared.

“The children.  Are they unharmed?”  That was classic Optimus – always thinking about the little guy.

“I haven't seen them,” Hot Shot admitted.  “Their Minicons saved us though.”  That was news to Smokescreen.

“Huh?  What are you on about?”

“That thing that broke the stasis field.  You took off running, so I guess you missed it, but the second you left, it split into Sureshock, Highwire, and a third guy.  Grindor, maybe?”

“Where did they go?” asked Optimus.

Hot Shot shrugged.  “No clue.  I wasn't exactly looking.”

Before they could waste any more time worrying about it, however, there was a short pop, and the Minicons in question appeared on scene with the humans in tow, their missing friend included in their number.

“Optimus!” Rad called out.  “Glad you're alright.”

“And I am glad the three of you are alright,” said Optimus in turn.  “Let us return to base.”

“What, we just gonna let this fire burn?” asked What's-His-Name. 

Optimus paused to survey the battlefield.  Of the seven buildings that had originally made up the mill, not a single one remained standing.  Smoke and dust filled the air, and fire devoured the splintered wooden frames of the buildings, and threatened to jump to nearby trees.

“Hot Shot.”

“Yes sir!”

“Return the children to base.  Smokescreen and I will clean up here.”

“Yes sir!”

“Smokescreen.”

Even after all these years, Smokescreen couldn't starve off the rush of excitement that filled him whenever Optimus said his name in that tone of voice.  “Yes sir!”

“Let's roll out!”

Chapter 14: Carlos

It had been a weird day, to say the least.  All Carlos wanted to do was go back home and go to bed, but he was apparently in it now, because he’d instead been hauled off to some futuristic, alien super-base to get debriefed or something.

It was still wild to think about.  All this time, Carlos had thought that his two best friends had eloped to join the Mafia, but instead they’d somehow gotten caught up in some secret war between giant alien robots. 

But why them?  They were kids.  This nonsense should have been the military’s problem, not the problem of a couple of fifteen year-olds.  His first instinct was to call up his dad, but even if he knew about the aliens, it wasn't like he was in any position to talk about them.  And Rad and Alexis probably had a good reason to be throwing themselves into danger like this.  Admittedly, it was in-character for Rad, at least, but Alexis was sensible.

They’d told him a little bit in the time between being teleported from the battlefield (a weird sensation; Carlos didn't like it) and the arrival of the big boss bot.

He knew that the robots were aliens and were fighting some kind of alien war.  He knew that they'd come to Earth looking for Minicons, which were the little robots.  And he knew the Minicons had superpowers. 

Hog Ruthers, the weirdo who had driven their crew to Seattle, was actually named Hot Shot, and he was the yellow Audi, not the man driving it.  That man was some kind of hologram.

Alexis had also introduced him to a fellow named Red Alert, who apparently ran the base and was her best friend (weird).  And then there was Sideways.  Sideways was a comparatively small, purple guy who liked to skulk around in corners and be creepy.  Carlos had barely met the guy and already picked up on this.  So it was for that reason that he was surprised when the robot approached him within minutes of arrival and offered him an apology.

“Carlos human, I am sorry again.  I guess.”

“Huh?”  What else was there to say at a time like that?

“Hot Shot says it's important to apologize when you’ve wronged someone . . .”  Somehow, he sounded less than sincere.  Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos caught the robot glance at Hot Shot, as well as Hot Shot’s insistent nod.  Okay then.

“It seems I’ve wronged you twice now.  So again, sorry.  About accidentally leading the Decepticons to your location.  Apparently.  And for leaving you in a tunnel that one time.”

“Wait, that was you?!”  Was the entire freakin’ world involved in this robot war?!

Before he could answer, there was a loud, electric hum, and the two bots that had stayed to put out the fire appeared on a large panel in the center of the room.

“Welcome back, Optimus.  Smokescreen,” said Red Alert.

“Did you get the fire?” Rad added.

“The fire is gone,” the bigger robot confirmed.  “I'm sorry that our battle was so destructive.”

“That mill's been abandoned for years,” Alexis mused.  “I wonder how long it’ll take for anyone to notice.”

“I guess the Decepticons could have picked a worse place to hide out, huh?” said Rad, staring at the ground thoughtfully.

Somehow, that didn't make Carlos feel any better about what had happened to him.  He considered speaking up, but the big robot beat him to it.

“Carlos,” he said, in his somber voice.  How did it know his name?!  “I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots.  I apologize for getting you involved in our battle.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”  He glanced at Sideways.

Optimus didn't have a reply for that.  Still, he pressed on in a speech that was so precise, it had to have been rehearsed.  “It was not our wish to bring our war to your planet, but circumstances beyond our power have led to that result all the same.  It is all we can do now to keep the Decepticons from doing further harm to your planet and to its people.”  How he intended to do that was beyond Carlos.  What was he gonna do?  Shoot the bad guys in a crowded city next time?  Thinking back, they probably already had.

“In the meantime, my current concern is you.”

“Huh?”  Carlos had been expecting more empty platitudes.  He hadn't been expecting to be an active participant in the dialogue.

“The Decepticons have recognized your connection to Rad, and to Alexis.  This makes you a target for them, as much as it pains me to admit.”

“Wait,” Carlos interrupted, “so they'll keep coming?”

“They may,” said Optimus. 

Great.  Today had been bad enough.  The thought of repeating it was petrifying, but knowing with certainty that it would happen again sooner or later was even worse.  “Then what am I supposed to do?  I'm not going through that again!”

“You have two options,” Optimus continued with that same rehearsed certainty.  “We are already keeping a close watch on Rad, and on Alexis while they are outside of our base.  We intend on extending the same protection to you.”  From the corner of his eye, Carlos caught Red Alert flinch.  What was that about?

“With that in mind, you appear to have a Minicon partner.”

“What, you mean Lil’ Dude here?”

“‘Lil’ Dude,’” Optimus repeated, sounding out the name carefully.  It was like watching his grandpa trying to use hip slang.

“Or Grindor, or whatever,” Carlos amended.  He didn't know how he'd intuited the little robot’s name, but ‘Lil’ Dude' seemed more fitting.

“Yes,” said Optimus.  “Lil’ Dude appears to have bonded to you.  We do not yet know his abilities, but we have seen that he is able to combine with the Minicon partners of Rad and Alexis, to powerful result.  I have no doubt that he is just as capable of keeping you from harm as Highwire and Sureshock are capable of protecting Rad and Alexis.”

“Meaning?”

“If it is your desire to remain, you are more than welcome to join us in our efforts to recover the remaining Minicons.”

It sounded wild.  He was 15 years old.  What exactly could he offer these giant, alien robots?  And if he did stay, what was the likelihood of him getting shot and killed?  He glanced at Grindor who blinked back at him, uselessly. 

On the other hand…

Life hadn't exactly been great lately.  Rolling with the giant robots seemed extraordinarily dangerous, but at least he’d have his friends again.  And hey, with danger, there was also excitement.  Maybe getting caught up in this disaster was the luckiest thing that could have happened to him?

“Yeah, I guess I’ll do that then.”

“Well then, Carlos, welcome to the Autobots.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 8 of A Record of the Final Days of the Great War