One In A Billion | Transformers Prime [1]

𝟎𝟎𝟐𝟗

An intricate pattern resembling a labyrinth with a subtle arrow pointing towards its center. It was a clandestine emblem, so I grinned at the thought that I was in the right place.  It was a signal known only to those involved in the covert dance of espionage.

I took a deep breath and entered the building, the afternoon light filtering through broken windows, casting a dim glow on the forsaken interior. The air was thick with silence as I navigated through the shadows, gun in one hand, and my sleek hard drive in the other—a critical payload destined for my comrade, the enigmatic figure known only by the code name 9301-115.

The interior was a labyrinth of forgotten spaces, and I carefully traversed the terrain, my senses on high alert. As I continued, the floor beneath me betrayed its decrepit nature. I almost stumbled into a hole where portions of ripped-off floor tiles left an unforgiving void beneath. Vigilant, I pressed on, my focus unwavering as the mission demanded.

A distant thumping echoed through the abandoned building, resonating with the rhythm of my racing heart. My hands held still, my instincts urging me forward, driven by a force beyond conscious thought. The suspense hung in the air like a thick fog as I approached the source of the sound.

Emerging from the shadows into the broad daylight was a figure, a silhouette with a sleek hard drive in hand. Code name 9301-115 stepped into the light, revealing a face I had only imagined—a guy with sun-kissed tan skin, silky black hair cascading to his ears, and golden brown eyes that bore the weight of shared secrets.

In that moment, our hands moved in synchronous motion. He handed me his hard drive, and I reciprocated with mine. Our fingers brushed against each other, the tactile exchange a silent acknowledgment of a partnership forged in the shadows. Our eyes locked, an unspoken understanding passing between us.

His smirk spoke volumes, a silent promise of continued collaboration. He walked past me, leaving me standing there, holding the hard drive that held the secrets of our clandestine world. Now, the enigma of 9301-115 had a face—a face etched in the golden brown eyes that lingered in my memory as he disappeared into the shadows of Chinatown, leaving me to ponder the complexities of the clandestine dance we were both entangled in.

I had done it.

✘✘✘

I stepped out of Las Vegas station, the city brightening with lights as it turned five o'clock and the sun slumped off to the west. I'd gotten several texts and missed calls from my friends and Wheeljack, asking why I wasn't at base yet. Where are you? Did you forget about what I told you? Wheeljack's text stuck like glue as I tried to ignore the guilt. I had completely lost track of time, and now fate begged me to have something to show for it. 

My mind whirled, spinning over the many shifting pieces of the dead drop, separating them and putting them back together in different combinations. I'd finally gotten to meet my comrade in person, even if it only was for a few seconds. 

I remembered every single feature about him, and it was almost surreal. His tan skin, silky black hair, and golden brown eyes the color of desert sand—left an indelible mark on my memory. A question surfaced, unbidden: Was he part Egyptian? 

The glint of an Ankh necklace around his neck flashed in my mind, sparking curiosity about his origin and affiliations.

A surge of questions flooded my thoughts. Who was he really? What secrets did he hold? Was he a soldier, a spy, or something more elusive? My comrade's code name, 9301-115, was like a cryptic cipher, and I had mine too, number 7920-316. It was a code given to me when I first started training as a sleeper. But still, today left me wondering about the significance behind those numbers and letters.