One In A Billion | Transformers Prime [1]

𝟎𝟎𝟑𝟒

"Sending an illegal into a closed society is just asking for trouble," Ruslan said over the phone. "But America is an open society. And to be open, you've got to blend in." 

I shrugged into a jacket, pulling my hair into a ponytail after catching a strand of hair in the zipper. "Okay, then what do you suggest I do? These guys already know my made-up name, whilst the school board keeps calling me the wrong one, not to mention they already know where I'm from,"

"Is that all they know about you?" He asked. 

"Hopefully. I mean, other than a bunch of rumors going around and stuff," I replied.

"What kind of rumors?"

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. I'm calling you because I'm seeking advice. In my time with the Autobots, it seems they'll stop at nothing to discover who I really am. On top of that, these guys—Decepticons—captured me a month ago and tried experimenting and gathering intel about me since they eventually found out about, you know,"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Brow perked, I pressed the device, closely listening to Ruslan breathing. "I don't know if you know this," he shot the bull, "but Vassily actually used to have a unit he'd send to track down this Autobot-Decepticon activity." 

At the moment, I was rushing outside and the wind was blowing hard into the speaker so I had to try really hard to listen. Wheeljack was supposed to pick me up, but according to a recent phone call from Jack, he was on patrol for something serious, and no bot could pick me up. I told him I'd be fine, I could drive myself to school.

I got into my car—a McLaren 570S Drive. I switched on the AC, then sat in my car indulging in the conversation I was having with Ruslan, a fellow sleeper agent, hacker, and close friend. "What's the unit called?" I asked, failing miserably to hide my curiosity.

"MECH. The acronym is unknown."

Why does all evidence keep pointing back to them? 

Slapping the key in the ignition, the car roared to life as I reversed the vehicle out of the driveway to my automatic gate. 

I thought back to the new information Ruslan had imparted. "Not gonna lie, I'm getting some cynical vibes from hearing that name," I said, speaking into the calling system in my car. I was lying, obviously, about not hearing the name before. 

"Foreign but familiar. I don't blame you," Ruslan said. His tone was told in a way that made me think he was bleeding for commiseration. Like he...felt bad for me.

"Ruslan, are you okay?" I snorted. "You sound like a candy-ass."

The guy huffed, ignoring my snarky comment. "They're a terrorist government working in opposition to the United States. They're underground, accomplishing illegal activity, from criminal experiments to acquiring a bunch of classified information. Illegitimate. Then again, so are we."

"Surely they have a leader, right?" I questioned, steering by a roundabout. Again, I too knew this question because I stayed up all night last night figuring it out. 

"Not much is vouchsafed about him other than the fact that his name is Silas—either spelled with a 'C'or an 'S'. LUKoil was performing research and said that his name apparently stood for an acronym, something they're still trying to figure out." 

I recognized what LUKoil was, it stood for Library of Unidentified Knowledge—a research facility in Russia in tandem with Bolshevisk, the sleeper agent academy where I grew up. "So you're saying the best research facility in Russia can't even find a source of information on this so-called leader of MECH? Have they tried pinpointing his location or something? Sent hitmen to hunt them down?"