Never touching this again

He remembers her.

____________________________________________________________________________

As Cade and Lucas practically march towards Lucas' car, I have a little bit of a hard time catching up. 

" Go to the hardware store and you get the list. The whole list. "

" What, you're going to try and fix him? He's not a model train set, Cade. "

" No, that's right. He's important. "

" Yeah but important to who? " I threw a small rock at Lucas. " Ow! " he looks back at me.

" He could be important to anyone, so don't say it again. "

" Anyways... You can't keep an alien locked up in your barn. What are you gonna do, play with him? "

'Diiiirrty braaiiin!'

" Will you calm down? "

" I'm trying to, but I just got hit in the head with a ten-foot cannon!-" he points to his head. He opens the door to his car, " If he eats you, I get the GTO. "

" Not a word to anybody. Do you hear me? Not a single word. " Lucas, looks at me through the open window. I drag my finger across my throat, tracing my now, clearly, visible scar.

" Nobody. "

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A small black car approaches a large, glass, rectangular-shaped building, known as the Central Intelligence Agency A.K.A. the CIA. An older man, wearing all black along with black sunglasses steps out, his door being shut behind him by another man. The second he walks into the building, a younger man wearing black walks up to him with something in his hands.

" I think we have a lock on a high value target. " the older man continues to walk, the younger on following after him. They approach a white, rather stretched out staircase.

" Special Operations group is ready. " the younger man continues.

The older man turns his attention to a young woman walking down the stairs to him, holding some papers in her arm.

" What do you got? " he asks her.

" Sir, Special Ops just got a call from Paris, Texas.-" she hands him the papers, "- Hard match on the truck leaving Mexico City. "

" Son of a bitch. Let's go get him. " he walks past her, and up the stairs, the two following after.

____________________________________________________________________________

Cade was lightly hammering away at a small metal ball, which was handmade. He stops and looks up at Optimus, walking away from his spot wand up the stairs in front of him.

" Took a hell of a hit ya'know. The missile just hit your power source. " Optimus rests his right arm on his knee, raising the other to the hole in his chest, looking down at it.

" We call it a Spark. It contains our life force, and our memories. " Cade gives his Spark a quick glance before speaking.

" Yeah, we call it a soul. "

Optimus looks over to Naomi who is fast asleep in the recliner, it was to hot in the barn for a blanket. She had stayed awake for hours, working along-side with her father. She was wearing different clothes, earlier's incident has made her clothes filthy and Tessa made her clean up and change. She was wearing dark blue jean shorts, the blue being very vibrant, and the thread almost golden in color, with two golden colored buttons and golden colored zipper. Her shirt was wide cut, black, and a little too big; it reached her mid-thigh, covering her shorts if she was standing up. Her black and white converse laying in the floor where she removed them, socks stuffed inside.

Her left forearm was laying across her forehead, hand open and palm up. Her other arm laying across her stomach, holding on to the bottom of her shirt, slightly pulling it up. Her left leg pulled up while the other straight out. Her chin was pointing up, her hair hanging over the edge of the chair, letting everyone have full view of her scar across her long neck.

" What caused her to attain such a mortal wound? " Optimus asked, curiosity crawling up his back, wondering why she looked oddly familiar. Cade looked to her for a second before getting back to what he was doing.

" She got caught up in the Battle of Chicago, she wasn't fighting, she was just there at the wrong time. She can't talk anymore, well she can but, it's obvious that it hurts to much. The paramedics told us that a Transformer sealed her throat before she could bleed out. When she woke up, she tol- uh, she wrote down that two transformers saved her from being blown to bits, but that's when she got that. " he paused to look back at Naomi, remembering all the sadness she went through when she realized she couldn't sing anymore.

" So we spent the past few years, teaching each other how to speak sign language. It wasn't easy, but we pulled through. She still has to take pain medication, it hasn't healed completely. "

" Sign language? " Optimus looked to Cade, confused.

" It's where someone speaks with their hands. Normally, people who can't hear, deaf people, are the ones who use sign language, but there are the few similar to Naomi's situation. Not being able to talk. Or not wanting to. "

Optimus looked back to Naomi's sleeping face, she reminded him of someone. That's when it hit him, he remembered her from somewhere.

'If my memory serves, I believe it was Bumblebee and I that saved her. Ratchet was the one that sealed her throat after she sustained her injury.' Optimus kept to himself, he didn't want to risk his only help out of here.

____________________________________________________________________________

The older man walked into a darker room that was mostly light up by computer screens and small desk lights. On the largest screen ,in the front of the room, was multiple maps, smaller pictures, a data table of sorts, and a large, old, and beaten up semi. That was Optimus prime.

" Scramble Cemetery Wind. " a group of people entered the room behind him, making their way to the currently occupied desks.

" Thank you for your efforts, ladies and gentlemen.-" he stood at the very center-front of the room, "-This room is going dark. The exit is on your left. I'll take it from here. "

" Okay let's go. " the previously in charge man directed his crew out of the room.

A slightly balding man, wearing a large black trench coat, was on the phone. Many solid black vehicles surrounding him, with many men dividing into these cars.

" I'm with Cemetery Wind. We're on the move. Repeat, on the move. "

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