Transformers The Hatchling

Runaway humans

Stormchaser pov

The alarms blared again, echoing through the base, their shrill cry cutting through the air with urgency. It had been one of those days—constant movement, chaos, and far too much noise. Sometimes, I wished the human younglings had arrived earlier. They brought some strange form of distraction, keeping everyone on their toes. The humans instinctively covered their little ears, wincing at the harsh sound, while Bulkhead quickly moved to the main screen. His movements were rushed, but it wasn't surprising—he had always been one to react first.

"It's a distress signal from Fowler," Bulkhead grunted, his large fingers hovering over the console, unsure of which buttons to press.

"Did you trace it?" Raf asked, his voice filled with concern for the grumpy human. He wasn't wrong to worry. Fowler may have been difficult at times, but he was also one of us, and the thought of losing him to the Decepticons was a real concern.

Bulkhead didn't seem as concerned. "The location scan was incomplete... Oh well," he said, walking away from the screen with an unconcerned shrug.

I growled in disapproval, my optics narrowing. Oh well? How could he just brush off the distress of one of our own like that? I let out a low growl, my irritation rising.

"Seriously?" Jack said, his voice full of disbelief. "You're just going to let it go?"

"He's a jerk," Bulkhead muttered, still trying to ignore the situation. But Raf wasn't ready to accept that.

"What, whoa," Raf said, his voice tinged with alarm. "Whether you like the guy or not, the Decepticons may have him." His gaze flicked nervously to the rest of us. "And Agent Fowler knows our location..." The gravity of that statement hit me too. If Fowler had been captured, then our position could be compromised. The Decepticons would know everything, and that was a risk none of us could afford.

Raf's eyes shifted to me, as if silently asking for reassurance, but I lowered my head and nudged him gently with my snout. If they come, I'll protect you. It was a silent promise I could never break.

Raf continued, voice trembling slightly, "And you saw how quick he backs down from a fight—he'll squeal." He had a point. Fowler wasn't afraid to stand up for what he believed in, but when pushed too hard, he might buckle under pressure. The thought of the Decepticons getting that kind of leverage was unsettling.

The transmission had been lost, leaving us with no real way of tracking him down. But Raf, ever the clever youngling, wasn't about to give up.

"Maybe I can narrow it down," Raf said, his voice steady as he worked at his computer. "Five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents. You know, like owners do with pets."

I didn't fully understand how this would work, but the others looked impressed as Raf continued typing furiously. "I saw it on TV. If I can hack into the feds' mainframe, maybe I can pinpoint Fowler's coordinates."

Miko snorted, rolling her eyes. "You know how to hack? But you're, like, two years old!"

"Twelve and a quarter," Raf shot back, not missing a beat as he focused on his task.

I laid down, my massive form sprawling across the room, watching them work. I hated all this talking, the computer screens, and the endless chatter. What I wanted was action. I wanted to feel the thrill of the hunt, to be out there where I could do something, where I could protect them. But instead, I felt helpless, my claws digging into the floor restlessly as I growled in frustration.

Minutes passed, and Raf worked tirelessly at the computer. Finally, his face lit up with success. "Got it. The coordinates are locked in," he said, looking up at Bulkhead.