Chapter Text
They always fell in silence...
The only sound being the pathetic flop of the guards' bodies hitting the ground. Not a yell, cry or even a gesture of struggle to suggest that their flesh had been pierced and torn cleanly by a bullet. A bullet aimed by a hooded and masked figure atop the roof of a nearby building.
No remorse or guilt was apparent in their eyes, they knew what they were doing and that it was for the benefit of thousands of lives. There was no room for sorrow, that's not what the professional was being paid for.
Hence, once the targets were confirmed dead, the figure carefully scaled the building he had hid upon and stealthily made his way to the bodies, patting and searching each of their pockets for something specific— a keycard.
Bingo
Stepping over the fallen men, he made his way towards a locked door hidden cleverly behind shadows, taking measures to avoid the video cameras that blinked ominously in the dark. Swiping the card, it was apparent that the mechanical doors would close if not attended to, if something were to go wrong this might be the only means of escape and as such he'd need to find a way to keep it open, preferably broken.
Humming in thought, the hooded figure looked back towards a fallen guard.
He smiled underneath his mask, taking a firm hold of the body.
This should do nicely.
Once done, the figure patted the helmet of one guard before stepping over three of them. They were all placed neatly in a row just between the doors so as to prevent it from closing completely.
The objective was simple: locate the package, confiscate it, escape with it, and waltz out the front door like he was never there.
A simple task for the professional, after all he'd done it so many times before.
So, question: how the fuck did he get caught?
Now running down seemingly identical hallways, the professional narrowly avoided getting shot at by the multitude of bullets that rained down on him, his body twisting and ducking for protection in the tight passages. With the small package securely wedged beneath his arm, the man swiftly pulled out a small pistol from his side pocket and began to fire back.
Everytime he pulled the trigger a body would trip and fall, going to show how precise and skilled he was with his weapons, unlike the amateurs that trailed behind.
SLIDE
Taking one last final turn to the left, the professional nearly cried in relief when he saw the front hatch door wide open at the opposite end of the hallway. His row of bodies were nowhere to be found but he wouldn't be surprised if he ended up on the other side of the facility with how much of a maze the place was.
Directing all of his muscle energy towards his legs, the professional practically flew across the hallway, his legs thudding against the cement floors loudly, no longer caring for stealth, as he willed his legs to push harder. Halfway to the exit, two crucial things happened.
One, a lucky stray bullet managed to fly past him, grazing his mask and cheek slightly but just enough for fabric and skin to be torn, it only took a second before he felt the blood slowly start to trickle down his face. Secondly—
"—SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!"
...That.
Lifting the package from beneath his arm, the professional shifted so a bullet breezed through the air beside him instead of through his luggage. Ain't no way was he going to let a bunch of idiots prevent him from getting his paycheck in full.
With the door slowly but surely sliding shut, lights flickering on and off, guns being fired, and alarms blaring annoyingly from every speaker, the professional found it downright impossible to focus.
He was nearly at the exit, his ticket to freedom. The door was slowly coming to a close, a hatch from the top sending down a solid barrier of steel that would close securely in seconds. In a last minute decision, the professional dodged a bullet and then reached down to grip a little oval shaped mechanism in his left pocket.
Pulling it out and gripping the handle, the professional smirked, risking a small but admittedly dangerous glace behind him as to glare at his attackers.
See you in the next life you motherfu—
CRACK
Abruptly, a bullet zoomed past his ear, the sound deafening and ear-shattering as it resonated and echoed within the narrow halls. The professional hissed, sucking in a sharp breath as he instinctively clasped a hand around his ear, mindful of the package but ignorant of the grenade as it fell from his grasp and clattered hazardly to the ground as he continued to run.
...well shit.
The grenade would take about five seconds to detonate, and thankfully that was all the professional needed to slide through the door before it closed on the unfortunate men inside the facility.
Sadly it would hardly cause them any damage, if anything just pushing them against the closed door and giving them a concussion considering the grenade was now far behind.
Damn, what a waste of a grenade...
Executing his exit perfectly, the package hugged tightly against his chest as he dropped to the ground and slid through the small opening, the professional stood up and stretched his limbs victoriously. The grin underneath his mask was hardly concealed as he began to walk away from a job well done.
The man made a show of tossing the package into the air and catching it effortlessly before tucking it underneath his arm, walking hardly three steps away from the facility before—
BOOM
....fuck.
Hours after the incident and now back at base, the professional found himself being guided by multiple military personnel. He hardly had the chance to rid himself of his gear before he was shooed away, soldiers all huddled up in a circle around him as they walked down the halls of their base. They were new as far as the professional could tell, he'd never seen them in this section before and every once in a while would catch them not-so-secretly sneaking glances at him.
A couple turns later he was escorted to an otherwise bare room if not for the large rectangle shaped table in the center where only one person was seated. Walking inside, the doors were shut behind him, the shuffling of two guards posting themselves just outside the door most noticeable.
The tension in the room the professional sat in was thick, suffocating even. The large table that he sat himself at was empty except for another man at the opposite end. The lights were dimmed, and if the professional didn't know any better he would have thought that he was being interrogated.
Despite all this, the professional was calm, a careless and free atmosphere surrounding him as he leaned back in his chair and placed his boots on the table. The man on the opposite side of the professional noticeably twitched, leaning forward in his chair to stare hotly at the personnel.
"So..." The professional started, eyes drifting to his boss.
"How've you been?"
An irritated sigh escaped the other man, hands reaching up to rub at his temple. A minute passed. Then another. The professional pursed his lips, beginning to think the other man wouldn't answer till he opened his mouth a second later.
"Why did you do that?"
The professional's head tilted, his eyes and smirk teasing.
"Do what?"
"You know what you did." Was the immediate answer.
There was no bite in any of the words, if anything just slight disappointment, and although the professional was tempted to grant the old man a bit of empathy, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to continue messing with him.
"I'm gonna be so forreal. You could be talking about 15 different things right now. I'm gonna need you to be a little more specific."
Seconds blew by, the grin plastered on the professional's face never faltering.
"...You blew up the facility."
"Ah, that's what we're talking about."
Another held out sigh came from the boss, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "You're aware we're supposed to carry out our missions discretely are you not?"
The professional scoffed, "The facility was in the middle of practically nowhere, the press aren't going to be attracted to something that far out of the city."
"But it has happened, I was under the impression that you were undergoing a stealth mission—" "And I was!"
The grin had long dissipated, replaced with a scowl that wasn't directed at anything.
"I was fully intending to go under the radar but— I just...!! I messed up okay? Won't happen again."
The older man looked at the younger with softer eyes, it wasn't long before he reached for something to the side of his chair, a briefcase.
Not a minute later did a yellow folder slide across the smooth surface of the table, a hand skillfully landing on top of it before it could potentially fly off. The professional took the file into his grasp and stared inquisitively at his boss, an eyebrow raised in silent question.
With no further gesture, the professional opened the file and paused in surprise as he discovered it to be his own personal file. "What—"
"[Name][Last Name]."
The professional— you— instinctively straightened up at the mention of your full name, a sense of uncertainty and seriousness creeping up your spine as you lowered your boots to the ground and sat up straight. "Yes, sir...?"
Your boss looked up into your eyes, the stress wrinkles of his old face becoming more and more prominent as age overtook him, still, they were gentle.
"As you already know, the reason why you were dispatched here in London in the first place is due to the fact that we needed help, our recruits were... not the best when you'd first arrived." You slowly nodded your head, trying to come up with why your boss was bringing that up now, and where the conversation was going.
You bumped in to settle a particularly terrifying thought, "Uh, You're not firing me are you?" Your boss blinked, but smiled nonetheless, huffing a breathy laugh. "No I'm not. Unless you're tired of all the work." You shook your head, doubts fading.
He continued, "You're one of our best, whether it be in teaching, supporting, or missions, I'll give you that. The best I've ever seen throughout the entirety of my career." At the mention of this, your chest instinctively puffed out in pride, a smirk crossing your lips as the uncertainty melted away.
"And although your way of doing stuff does tend to...stray away from how it's usually done." The urge to protest was strong but you held it in.
"You get the job done with flying colors and meticulous accuracy, it's usually why I can never stay frustrated at you for just about anything. Ever since you've been dispatched here you've done nothing but raise spirits and instill the best into our soldiers, and for that I thank you."
"I—" You began, only to pause as your boss raised his hand in a silent gesture to let him continue.
"Now, I've recently come into contact with your previous base of operations." You perked up at this piece of information. "They say that a classified course of action had been taken that caused quite the stir over there but are now operating smoothly without much trouble."
Anticipation began to sweep throughout your body as you pieced together what the other was hinting at. However, this "classified" information was something that did indeed catch your attention, if only at the moment.
"As such, since your mission was admittedly the last in the database that needed to be completed, I'm proud to announce that I've been given permission to dispatch you back to America."
A warm tingling began to ripple throughout your body. "Think of it as a vacation, god knows you need it. It's an outpost that was recently built but I've been informed that it does in fact house some of your old associates, William Lennox and Robert Epps, are a few to mention."
A genuine smile crossed your face, fond memories of the three of you hanging out swarming your mind. They were pushed to the back of your head as your boss finished up, a warm undertone to his voice.
"[Name][Last Name], thank you for all you've done. If there's anything you ever need feel free to ask me or any other personnel on base. I'm sure they'd be delighted."
It would have been rude to outright bolt from the room to start packing, but the excitement was something that had your body itching to get ready to leave. Out of decency, you'd managed a rushed, Thank you sir and a salute before you walked as casually as you could manage out of the room.
The minute the doors closed behind you though, you were gone.
Not even ten minutes later, you were stuffing all your personal belongings into a small side bag. Everything you thought to be moderately important was taken, not that there was much under that category. Still, your bag was nearly full by the time you'd considered everything checked.
"That should be everything..." You murmured to yourself.
Despite this, there was something that was nagging at you from the back of your mind. What was it??
"Oh!"
Walking into your small apartment bathroom, you grasped a small make-up looking powdered container wedged into the corner of the sink. It was small, about the size of your hand, but its importance was beyond crucial if you were to ever go anywhere.
Stuffing that into your back pocket, your eyes unwillingly drifted to your reflection in the bathroom mirror. A mature man stared back at you, your eyes a hypnotizing and unsettling blue color if anyone were to take the time to truly look at them.
Eyes shifted to the brown bandage on your cheek, shielding the cut that you'd gained from the lucky bullet on your mission. A hand reached up to pull at the coverage, ignoring the slight sting when it was all but ripped off, and the clean cut was laid bare for all your reflection to see.
It was a small thing, insignificant in the face of everything you'd ever gone through. But it still reminded you of how fragile a person was.
With a small exhale, you exited the bathroom, tossing away the bandage so it landed in the trash bin.
There was no cut the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, not even a mark or scar to suggest that it was ever even there. The only thing left behind was a slow line of blue that had stretched across the cut and then faded, erasing all existence of it, leaving only perfectly unwounded and clear skin.
The farewells went by rather quickly, as it turned out everyone had already been aware of the situation and had gone out of their way to crowd outside and wave goodbye as your private jet assigned to you by your base commander flew off.
Two of your friends were here in London, and although you wished you could stay to say your goodbyes they had recently been dispatched and wouldn't be back for a couple months.
Waiting was not something you were very eager to do, especially for such a long time when you could simply come visit here again or they could visit you.
I'll just send a message later.
Settling back into your seat, you opened up your phone and scrolled through the contacts, searching for two particular names.
When you found them, you'd simultaneously typed up a message and sent it to both.
Resting into the comforts of your private jet cabin seats, you opted to gaze out the window as clouds floated by and the ground below became less and less visible the higher the altitude.
"I hope they're doing fine..." You mumbled absentmindedly, curious on how things had changed, if they had at all.
In America, two phones in separate lodging brightened up as a message came through. Groans could be heard as the owners of said phones rolled over in bed to fumble for their device.
It took a moment for one of them to finally grab it, the other about five seconds, but when both managed to unlock their phones and read the incoming message, all that drowsiness flew out the window the moment they read who it was from.
Muffled clattering could be heard through the walls. Messages between the two separate individuals frantically being sent one after the other as they both hurried to get up and out of bed despite the early hour.
What was it? Like— 2 AM???
The moment both stood outside their respective apartment doors and looked each other in the eye, a silent agreement was made: they both knew they'd have to do quite a bit in the next 12 hours if they were going to have the base properly presentable for their guest.
Both held their phones, the screen still displaying the message received not 5 minutes ago.
[Name][LastName]
HEY GUYSSS!!! Guess WHAT!! I'm heading back to AMERICAAAAAAAA!!!! Just left the London airport, should be there in about 12 hours. Btw in case u got rid of my contact (u wouldn't dare) this is you BEST friend [Name][LastName]!!! K. See ya soon!!
Read 1:56 AM
It was early. Ridiculously so. And if it wasn't for the downright infuriating clickity clack of a keyboard and thumping of boots running back and forth, Ironhide would have continued recharging peacefully.
Alas, the persistent sounds of soldiers up and running at the Primus forbid hour of 4 were impossible to ignore. Ratchet would no doubt be suffering the same as him, if not worse due to his innate instinct to zoom in on the more forgotten or invisible aspects, as expected due to his occupation.
Ironhide did his best to ignore the sound, and it worked for an hour or two until the door to his garage abruptly bursted open. This all but startled him from his drowsy state and had him on high alert, the mechanisms that formed his cannons itching to transform and shoot out of his alt-mode.
Who would dare enter his garage at such an early hour?
All the fight in his frame quickly slipped away when Ironhide realized that it was simply his charge, William Lennox.
The human male appeared too busy to actually acknowledge Ironhide, and he continued to walk around with a computer in hand, his eyes glued to whatever the screen displayed.
"Would' ya mind keeping it down? A bots' recharge is all but treasured you know." Ironhide mumbled, still in his alt-mode and not yet wanting to transform for the weariness that took on his joints.
Lennox looked up from his computer screen at the truck, his body pausing. He'd nearly made it across the garage to another door that connected to the rest of the base before he stopped. Blinking, he looked down at the computer and his eyes widened, realizing how much noise he must have been making, especially at the current hour.
"Sorry 'Hide, I'll try to be a little quieter." Was all he managed to murmur with an apologetic grin before he continued on his way out of the garage.
Ironhide huffed, and if he was in bot mode he would’ve rolled his optics. Still, he lowered himself on his stabilizers, trying to get comfortable and at least gain another hour or so of recharge before he'd have to officially start the day.
Hopefully his charge would do as told and stay quiet.
.
.
.
.
.
Clickity-clackclack Clickity-clack
Primus frag it—!!
Now ten in the morning, bots and soldiers alike were up and running, attending to their own duties or chatting with one another.
However, to any soldier that knew them, it was obvious that they appeared slightly more sluggish than usual. Their moves were slow, words were cut short, even Optimus himself seemed less accustomed to chatting than normal.
Every single one of them had been woken up early by the bustling of Lennox and apparently Epps as well and were unable to successfully go back to recharge. That wasn't necessarily a large issue, they'd gone way longer, but after residing on Earth for so long their frames had—albeit reluctantly— begun getting accustomed to the daily cycles.
Lennox and Epps, despite the many hours having passed, were still thoroughly absorbed with whatever it was they were attending to on their phones and computers.
The bots watched as they made small talk with many more soldiers than usual, receiving a nod in response before continuing with their duties.
The two hardly looked up from their screens or at each other as they passed through the halls and in the garages, but somehow they still seemed to be working together, this could be understood through the small nod that they always gave each other when crossing paths or the near insignificant gestures they made.
Epps would throw Lennox a set of keys and he would catch them effortlessly, not a word was spoken between them as they continued on their paths.
Sometimes they just muttered words to each other, those of which the bots couldn't even begin to decipher.
"Room?"
"247"
"Transport?"
"Brought his own."
"Time?"
"Hardly three and a half more hours."
"Damn it."
Every cybertronian that experienced their weird behaviors stopped to watch the two whenever in sight. Neither had stopped to initiate conversations with the bots and it was beginning to grate on Ironhide's nerves the longer it went on.
When he'd questioned Optimus on the matter he'd simply responded with an infuriating calm voice, his words carrying a warm amusement to them.
"Perhaps it would be best to provide our human allies with the space they need to complete their tasks. I'm sure once they are given the chance, their behavior will be explained. For now, the least we can do is allow them their time."
To pits with that...!
Consulting with Ratchet hadn't been any better. The medic was far too busy trying to get work done on his recent project to actually care about the two humans.
All he did was complain about their insistent noise and how it made concentration practically impossible.
Ironhide crossed his arms and huffed after another hour had passed. Bumblebee had made an acute remark through his still glitching voicebox on how he was, "acting like a pouty baby." But with one hard glare and the automatic hum of his cannons coming online the scout booked it with his charge, Samuel Witwicky yelping in the front seat.
Fraggin' scout.
It was when mainly everyone was gathered in the garage and the two soldiers were still working that Ironhide reached his final straw.
Abruptly, he'd placed his servo just ahead of Lennox, cutting the poor unsuspecting soldier off before he could get further in his strides.
Lennox had been mumbling mostly to himself, untraceable gibberish leaving his lips as he scrolled down on his computer.
The servo that came down had him tripping forward, unaware that his path had been obstructed by a certain Autobot, not that said autobot held any remorse for it.
"What the—!" Were the two words that escaped Lennox before he face planted into the ground, followed by a string of curses as he rubbed his sore nose.
Taking the distraction, Ironhide swiftly took grasp of the small computer, cautiously pinching it between two digits as he brought the screen to his faceplate and began to read.
"Flight DL946... Landing ETA, 1:37 PM."
Lennox jumped back to his feet, "Give that back Ironhide! It's importa—"
"Who's coming?"
Ironhide briskly cut off Lennox, raising a brow at his charge. Was this the reason both Lennox and Epps had been up and bothering everyone since the break of dawn?
Who the frag would require such constant service?
By now several eyes and optics had turned their attention to the two. The sharp shout from Lennox earning them curious looks. Thankfully, Optimus was not one of them, otherwise he'd be given a strict scolding.
"Ironhide..." Ratchet warned, shifting away from his workstation.
"Cool it doc. Jus' wanna see what the big deal is."
Ironhide rolled his optics and then stared down at Lennox who, mind you, had been sending a pointed glare since his fall.
The two engaged in a small stare off, but unlike Lennox, the weapon specialist had been around for centuries. The mech was stubborn, and that was something that Lennox knew he wouldn't be able to beat.
With a defeated sigh, Lennox cast his gaze to Epps who was working his way to the exit.
"Hey Epps! Get over here!" He called, and with a curious hum, Epps finally took his eyes off the screen and made his way to his friend.
"What's up?"
Lennox jerked a thumb to the bots who were peering at the two with odd faces. Epps stared back.
"Oh."
The two soldiers shared a glance. They were planning on keeping it a secret, at least until it was time to pick him up, but with how they were walking around it was obvious that they were both very preoccupied.
And preoccupied with something important.
You wanna do it? Lennox conveyed with his eyes and a raised eyebrow, but was quickly shot down by a firm shake of the head from Epps. Ain't no way I'm doin' it.
Running a hand through his hair, Lennox turned back to the bots.
Ironhide still held his computer pinched between his digits and was looking at the two expectantly.
"Phew...okay!" He began, intertwining his hands together and then behind his back.
"I believe that—Ow!"
Epps elbowed him in the side, "Let's call all the other bots first, don' wanna have to repeat everything."
Rubbing his side, Lennox side-glared his friend before looking up at his guardian. "You mind Ironhide?"
Said mech nodded mechanically, his optics dimming and cycling for a moment before he looked back down again. "Should be here in five kliks"
Soon, all the bots were gathered in the garage. Lennox and Epps both chatted above the raised platform when Optimus finally entered, his large Peterbilt frame rolling smoothly into place before everything began to shift.
All watched as pieces and seams broke apart neatly, chunks vanished and then reappeared some place else. His legs took form, wheels attaching nicely to the sides, his thighs and chest heaved into place on top, smooth and defined with the iconic blue and red paint job. Armour plates clicked into place, interconnecting parts, and finally his head emerged from within.
His steps were heavy and the very air in which he carried himself in demanded attention and authority. As he reached the platform, his battle mask shifted away to reveal his faceplates, his optics a warm neon blue.
"Why is it that you have called us here William Lennox?" Optimus asked, his deep baritone voice firm and resolute, carrying a hint of curiosity underneath.
Said soldier coughed into his fist, his confidence slipping as he looked into the optics of the giant being.
This announcement wasn't really anything big or something to be embarrassed about, but it concerned someone that both him and Epps deeply cared for, and seeing as none of the bots would actually truly meet him for another month or so, the concept of the conversation was made slightly awkward.
Pushing that aside, Lennox spoke up, nice and loud.
"So, as you all may have already noticed, Me and Epps have been on our toes as of this morning." A corresponding chorus of agreements rang throughout the garage.
Once it quieted down, Lennox continued, "Well, just this morning, we received a text from one of our old associates informing us that he'll be headed and stationed here at this outpost." Chatter began to pick up again.
"Due to this, me and Epps have been doing our best to make sure that everything is in top shape for his arrival."
"—and what is he? Some kinda stuck-up Commanding officer?" Mirage butted in, strolling right up next to Optimus, ignorant and perhaps entirely dismissive of the glare being tossed from the much larger mech.
Epps was the one that answered, "Ha! Nah, the dude hates those. Can't stand 'em. He's fun, don't worry."
"So dudes chill. Like him already." Mirage smirked, turning heel and heading back over to Jazz and Bumblebee who were curious about what he discovered.
"...As I was saying, he's the reason we're everywhere today."
Optimus hummed in thought, processing all this new information, "What would be the name of this friend of yours?"
"[Name]. [Name][LastName]."
Someone tapped his shoulder, and Lennox glanced back just a second to see that it was Epps' hand. "Yo, we gotta go. Like, now if we don't want to be late picking him up." Thudding steps started up.
"Need a lift? I'd like to meet this friend o' yours." Ironhide offered, stepping up to the platform and placing down the computer in his charges awaiting arms.
Lennox shook his head, "Sorry 'Hide, [Name]'s especially observant when it comes to unusual behavior, I'm afraid he'll realize all too quickly that something about your vehicle's modes is…unique."
Optimus' large head tilted slightly to the side in silent contemplation.
Who would pay attention to such meticulous detail that Lennox himself would not feel it safe for them, cybertronians, a species that was designed especially to blend in perfectly with transportation, to even come in close proximity with the human?
Ironhide must have been thinking something along the same lines, for he crossed his arms and grumbled something incomprehensible before turning and walking over to Ratchet who'd been watching the interaction keenly.
Watching him go, Lennox turned back to the leader, "Well, what do you think OP?"
Optics dimming, Optimus spoke, "Although I do not encourage you heading out without an autobot counterpart, I respect your wishes, and will see to it that my bots shall steer clear of this associate of yours until further notice."
A visible weight lifted off of Lennox's shoulders as he sighed in relief, he was unsure whether the bots would be okay with being so closed off from freedom, especially while on base, but it appears he had nothing to worry about.
"Thank you Optimus."
Turning heel, Lennox was surprised to find that Epps no longer stood behind him, but rather, down on the ground with a jeep all ready to go.
"Let's go!" Epps called out, situated in the driver's side seat and becoming impatient.
It didn't take long to rush down the steps and plop himself into the passenger seat, and with one final wave to the bots, the two soldiers were out of the garage and on their way to the airport.
Ironhide stepped forward with Ratchet next to him. They all watched as the jeep slowly disappeared from view the farther it went.
"What do you think Optimus?"
The big mech glanced to the side at both his weapons specialists and his medic. He knew they were always the two on edge when it came to new soldiers, but he also knew that eons of war had rendered them both incapable of ease unless they were fully aware of the situation.
The gears churned in his head, and without thinking, he let out a soft and warm field— to which the two soldiers begrudgingly relaxed under.
Finally, he spoke, "I suggest we leave them to their own, if any help is required then I trust they will seek it."
And with that, the three mechs slowly engaged back to their normal daily activities.
It went unnoticed the faint eerie glow that protruded on each of their forearms, vorns of thick armor and protective layering rendering the small mark invisible and otherwise forgotten by all who carried it.
Curiosity clouded their processors instead: Who was this new soldier?