Generation Breakers: Intermission
Relevant Song: Bill Whelan "The Harvest"
Raevyn awoke to the sounds of a heated argument. And it wasn't just any kind of heated argument, either. It was her father's voice when he was inches away from throwing a punch.
Not bothering to waste her time changing into day clothes, she ran out of her bedroom, out the door, and down the outside stairs of her home, turning left around the back of the house to see her father in his beaten and torn jeans, bare feet, and a white undershirt. His stubble wasn't as carefully groomed as it usually was, and the whole picture of him meant that whoever it was that he was about ready to threaten to dismember had woken him up.
Leukyn was not a morning person.
Looking past the man in a suit, not even bothering to give him any of her attention at the moment, she focused upon her garage and at the Solstice sitting half-in and half-out of it. She could see the mirror mounted upon his windshield, and from time to time, it trembled with unheard snarls or growls of anger. The Autobot was as furious as her father, but was obviously the larger threat of the two.
Even if this suited idiot had no idea of Jazz's existence.
The Agent looked at the young woman walking up to them and spoke to her as he pulled a badge out, flashing it with a flourish that only fresh blood did. "You are no longer employed with the U.S. government, Miss Starwalker. You have since forfeit the terms of your employment."
Oh, like hell. Raevyn's voice was level and smooth as she replied to the man. "I have read very clearly and slowly the documents I signed over a year and a half ago. And I have adhered to those terms and conditions firmly, unless it was imperative that there be other actions taken. The permission to do so was within the final clause, stating 'If the NBE in whom the signer of this contract is partnered with decides upon his own volition to cause his or her partner to disregard the above contract, amnesty and an innocent charge will be given to the signer.' Tell me that I'm not quoting that perfectly. I beg of you."
"You signed a subsequent contract that stated that you would do your best to dissuade one of them if they forced you into disobeying your direct orders from the senior officers--"
"First off," Raevyn snarled, taking a step closer, "I am not enlisted in any military. Second off, I would like to see you argue with the Autobots. Third." And here she paused, holding her hand out imperiously. "Show me this contract."
"There is no such paper signed," Jazz growled, slowly rolling free of his garage before pausing to transform faster than Raevyn had ever seen him do so before. He stalked closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. Upon seeing that manner demonstrated in Jazz, a chill ran down the young woman's back. Was this the same fun-loving Autobot that had teased her only last night about how far she had (and had not) gone with Sam? He moved like some sort of predator, on the hunt for his prey. His voice held none of the lazy accents that he used when around the rest of their mixed group of friends and comrades. "I have been with Raevyn at every government function that she has been called to. There has been no signings of papers since the first contract, in which it is clearly stated that in public, not private, relations with humans, we will do our best to behave in the interest of your species. Privately, however, we can do whatever the slag we want to."
He was, by now, looming over the unfortunate agent, who was visibly shaking. "I will warn you that if you try to prohibit her access to us, if she wants to be around myself and my companions, then you will be sorely shocked to find that I will personally thwart your every attempt of that action." Leaning in over the man, Jazz's bass voice deepened to what had to be close to his original range. "Raevyn is mine, my partner, and if it came down to it, it is between her and I whether our partnership would be dissolved or not. Not your young government."
Nodding twice, slowly, quite shaken in actually meeting an Autobot for the first time, the young and self-righteous agent actually jumped when a massive black truck roared down into the driveway. An almost-late-twenties man in uniform stepped out of the driver's side of the cab and walking around the hood, not bothering to turn the engine off or closing the door.
But the growl of an engine was only the beginning of sounds that were made as the GMC transformed. Ironhide had gotten a summary of what had been happening before even getting here, and as soon as Lennox had cleared the front of his hood, the metal frame split, shifting and moving rapidly so that a twenty-two-foot tall robot was now where a black GMC pickup once sat idling. Captain Lennox wasn't even fazed by the transformations anymore. Ironhide's smooth, military-style voice sounded weary of something, and intolerant of another. One could only assume that he was not the fan of the local government's way of handling things.
"You, son, are putting a bad face upon a good group of agents," the Autobot said, reaching a hand out to pull Jazz up straight. He spoke upon an Autobot frequency to the lieutenant. "Do not let him get to you. He's young and stupid."
"Easy for an old man like you to say . . . I'm still young and stupid in comparison to your old years."
"Don't taunt me because he's being an annoyance."
William Lennox walked right up so that he was nose-to-nose with the late-twenties agent before speaking. His voice was low and one could interpret it as menacing, while others could make it out to be merely iron-stern. "You will state your purposes in visiting this residence at once. Do not leave out any information, and do not tell me that you are 'unable to say.' Are we clear."
"Wrong way to start. I have special privileges dispensed to me by way of the Secretary of Defense. Now try again; who sent you and why." Lennox was still in this slightly-older man's face, his own face at twenty-six as if it were chiseled from granite.
The whole story came tumbling out soon after, shortly after he insinuated that there was something odd going on between the Autobots and their humans, during which subsequent outbreak had caused Ironhide to pick Jazz up and keep him immobilized, as well as Raevyn getting between her father and the agent, hugging his waist to keep him from pulverizing the man as he paled in the sight of how strong the old weapons specialist really was.
What it boiled down to? Misinformation, caused by the fact that both Raevyn and Mikaela were dark-haired, brownish-eyed mechanics.
Another week later, after supervising the construction of the new base that was almost to the point of completion, Raevyn was back in California, standing upon Ratchet's legs to reach into his lower abdomen, carefully cleaning out the area around his fluid pumps, having a conversation with him while doing so. "So you see how it works?"
"The oddity of your human passions still confuses me. With Transformers, we have simple answers. Do we desire another? The answer is either yes or no. The reasons why we would wish to spend time with one is weighed against the wishes not to spend that time, what you would call a calculation, giving us a firm answer in the affirmative or the negative. Never a maybe." Ratchet sighed, and shook his head, feeling where she put her hands, and approving of the handholds. Bumblebee was assisting her today, holding the clean cloths and the cleaning solvents. A blackened cloth rocketed out of the hole Ratchet had opened in his armor, accompanied by Raevyn's just-as-black hand reaching out for another cloth, Bumblebee having readied one to place into her palm.
"We're not mechanical beings, Ratch," came the explanation. "And it's not easy for us to logic out anything of that kind of sort. There is no logic to our emotions, unlike your kinds'."
"I agree with that." The medic replied. The conversation moved on. "So how are you and Sam doing together?"
"Well," came the cautious reply. "Why d'you want to know?"
"Because he's off with Jazz, and you and Bumblebee are here. I'm assuming that he's asking questions of your partner about you."
"So'm I. Bumbles? You have any insight to offer on that matter?" Raevyn pulled out to breathe in the slightly-cooler air than what was circulating within Ratchet. He was being patient with her, knowing that while she could move her hands faster, she still wanted to make sure she was doing the right thing and was cleaning the right way. Small sounds of approval came from him at strategic moments, disguised within a sentence or even within the sounds of his own movements.
Thinking upon what she was asking of him, the bot just shrugged, his door-wings at the "relaxed" position. "Perhaps likes and dislikes? All I know for certain is that he wishes to not mess this up. It is a fear of his, Raevyn."
"I know. The fear that he's not good enough in bed is a horrible thing for a man to feel." Moving back inside, she wiped up the last of the buildup of lubricants and grease, tossing the final cloth out. "Okay, Bumbles, that tube there, please."
Sam walked into the hangar just as she accepted the mechanical lubricant, paused, then stated, "That just looks plain wrong."
"Face it, I'm a kinky chick," Raevyn said with a laugh, shrugging and diving back into Ratchet's torso. Her voice was low. "Think he heard us?"
The medic considered this. "No. Do you know how to rid him of his fear?"
". . . you're mean."
"No, seriously. Do you?"
"Oh glory. Bumblebee!" she called out. "Ratchet doesn't get it!"
The joy-filled laugh of the Camaro filled the hangar, seeping out into the yard beyond. It was a good laugh, and heralded in brighter days.