Beeps and Buzzes

🌍 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 16 ✓

　　　

Turns out that you couldn't blow up a bathroom sink within the privacy of your own home anymore. Or could, so long as you didn't mind hanging out with local law enforcement whilst they did a massive sweep of your property.

Yes, that did mean bringing in a bomb squad. Everyone kicked out of the whole block, you shoved into a police cruiser and taken to your local police station for holding.

Five hours spent in holding for 'disturbing the peace', you could only sit and twiddle your thumbs. Swaddled up in your dressing gown, head thudding rhythmically against brickwork.

Air conditioning clicked away, as a less than enthusiastic officer conducted paperwork. Absorbed in a different reality where a pair of old men weren't singing Beyoncé's greatest hits in a drunken slurr whilst wearing Chicago Bull's merch.

By the sixth hour, somebody finally arrived to collect you. In hindsight, it did seem suspicious when a previously non-existent 'uncle' paid for bail. Least of all one called 'Seymour'.

Sam, displaying an impressive case of lateral thinking, opted to call Simmons first in to deal with this minor discrepancy. Somehow convincing this slowly rising Millionaire shout and scream for your freedom!

Please bare in mind, he'd not been a part of your story for a few months now. Only hearing drips and drabs from Bee, or even Lennox on occasion.

He's been doing well for himself. A quaint little setup, snagging an expensive mansion just outside of Washington State (that's the hush money for you!) and loving like royalty. Recently hired a mild mannered assistant called Dutch, too.

So it was nice to see him... Crushed, purple velvet suit and everything. Ascot too.

When that plan inevitably backfired, Simmons getting escorted from the station for 'bring a nuisance'... Two additional hours later, Lennox arrived under the pretense of being a 'special unit' focused on terrorism. ID, paperwork and transfire request all stamped and sealed by one Director Mearing.

Who was not happy.

Sam has his phone tapped, of course he did. His little FBI Agent tattled immediately after catching a whiff of Alien shenanigans happening off-site.

Greeting you immediately, with enthusiasm reserved for plague rats, frog-marched from the large loading bay to those regularly sized human officers. Everybody watching on, no time to stop and chat.

Optimus seemed baffled, even. Stood with Ironhide, reliably informing his leader as to why you were under some kind of NEST style of arrest.

Look -- he'd asked why you weren't at work today, you decided to share why. Including everything AND the bathroom sink. Wasn't any point in lying.

In Mearing's private quarters, she drove home how close you'd gotten to rumbling the secrecy of this entire operation. How such carelessness had placed everybody else in jeprody, how you were fortunate that they were able to "liberate you from a hairy situation"

All without yelling. Which was definately worse.

One thing led to another; three days straight of testing ensued. Lead by Que, inquisitive mind enthralled by the video of a human wielding Cybertronian technology.

With Que, came experimentation.

Weathering it all with a brave face; you couldn't decide which scared you more. Ironhide holding a live cannon on your face to see if whatever happened could be trigged by adrenaline, or having your prosthetic shocked with Energon.