Drabble: The Autobot Integration Into America Bound
The Autobot Integration Into America
Chapter 10: Bound
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So this was it.
The end.
God, of all the ways for a secret government agent, whose purpose was to discover, detain, and decipher alien technologies (including the alien technologies that were alive), why- Dear Lord in Heaven, why- did he have to die at the hands (excuse me, claws) of a piece of hostile, living, alien technology whose function was to discover, obtain, and decipher any and all information for its hostile, giant, alien masters, Hell-bent on the destruction of his planet and his entire species?
There was a certain piece of cosmic irony in there that Tom did not like one bit.
"Ooi-ski-tank-driu-takikikikiki-nak-takli-tanok-stoonkan-taonks-anks-alikskiiiiiiiii!" The spindly, silver robot screeched at him. On reflex, his mind attempted to translate the alien screech into some semblance of language. The jumbled results (a mix between English, Hawaiian, and what he believed was Swedish, though was not entirely sure) made little sense to him, yet he somehow knew, without fully understanding, that whatever the silver robot wanted, it had to do the boy and the Cube.
That, and there was something about his... laser-core? Being torn from his chest.
Not that Tom knew (or particularly cared right now) what a laser-core was or why that word came to his mind.
He remained silent one moment too long. The silver robot shrieked loudly and with surprising strength, grabbed the Sector Seven agent by the front of his shirt, lifted him up, and threw him across the room. Tom slammed into the reenforced steel wall with a loud SMACK, and crumpling to the ground in a heap. His spine and head seared in pain from where he had hit them both. If he survived, he would need to see a doctor. And take an extended vacation to a desk job. He attempted to pick himself up, but the chains around him (whatever they were made of) were too strong and too tight around him.
That was another thing he would have to ask God when he met Him. Why did he have to die in chains of all things? Couldn't there have been a more dignified way to go than on his knees, begging futilely for his pathetic life, by a robot!?
The robot skittered toward the downed human, its movements unnaturally sharp and far too quick for any organic creature to perform let alone track. One set of its sharp claws planted themselves over his rapidly beating heart and the other directly over his eyes. Those twin icy blue lights (for they could not be called eyes, there was nothing in them that suggested any kind of pupil/scalera/iris that would be required for eyes) glared down at him with deep disgust at touching him.
"SKI-TANK-DRIU!" It roared at him in that high pitched voice, claws pressing in closer to his vitals. "OOI-STOOKAN-MARAKOi!?"
His heart seemed to beat a million times a second. He had to think of something. Anything! To get this creature away. It could probably sense his anxiety, his stress. It could probably even tell who was lying and who was not...A strange calm settled over him, though he still wore a panicked expression. Time to test a certain theory about his character. And whether or not he could fool lie detectors. Internally he grinned maliciously, even has his voice shook. "What- What do you want!?"
"CUBE!!" The thing shouted angrily, shaking him furiously, claws dangerously close to his eyes and pinpricks of pain in his chest. "BOY!"
Tom ignored the pounding and the quickly forming goose egg on the back of his head and thought furously. Where to sent this thing. Where to send it. It had to be somewhere far, on base, but far enough away that Captain Lennox with the Witwicky boy and the Cube could escape before being found. But where?
Think, Tom. He told himself, as the spiky alien started shouting and slammed him into the wall again. Do you know this base inside out or don't you?
It came to him in an instant.
"T-THE OLD ARCHIVES!" He squeeked, his voice cracking expertly. His eyes bulged on demand and he started to hyperventilate. "DON'T KILL ME!!" Tom pleaded to the alien being. "THEY WENT TO THE OLD ARCHIVES!!" He bit his tongue sharply and tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and his nose ran as he remembered his late wife and couldn't help the anguish he felt at her loss.
The alien thing dropped him fast, curling away from his oozing and whimpering form. It chattered something to the air (probably to its monstrous buddies) then ran (if it could be called running) off down the hallway and out of sight, without so much as a backwards glance at the restrained human.
Tom picked himself up, struggling to get to his feet as the chains around him refused to budge. He awkwardly maneuvered his cellphone out of his pocket and looked at the bright blue screen, timer ticking away, little speaker symbol proudly displayed.
"Did you catch all of that?" He said to the phone.
"I'm already looking for weapons." Simmons replied. Tom heard banging over the connection and his heart sank despite himself. "... Tom." Simmons's annoyed tone floated over the line. "... How long did it take that thing to get here?"
"Record time." Tom said as he sprinted as best he could in the opposite direction. "I'm getting the other agents."
"I think this may be the time to start Operation: Meatlocker." Simmons said. Several more louder bangs came from the phone before the call shut off.
Wasting no time, Tom sprinted and skidded into the main hanger bay, hoping that the other agents would be ready to fight (or better yet, were already fighting).
He looked on in horror at the carnage left by NBE-1.
No.
Megatron.
But there was no time to linger and mourn. He punched in a couple numbers from his phone and called in the other agents stationed around and in the surrounding countryside. As much as he hated the name, Operation: Meatlocker was a go. Several other agents were already rerouting supply and information lines. Others were moving packages and still others were keeping the aliens in the dark.
Content that his job was done for now, Agent Tom Banachek flopped down onto the ground and waited for someone to find him and untie him. He would have to think up a cover story for his change of location. Simmons could explain the frenzied robot coming after him and whomever he was with. Information missing could be easily explained and no one would miss the other four robots "frozen in the basement."
Even when things were out of control, Sector Seven was still bound to its duties.
And those chains did not break.
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Tom Banachek / Frenzy / chained
AN: This chapter is more of a "What happened to Banachek during the first movie?" then somehow spawned into my own personal headcanon. O_o; There was no way Simmons could have moved all that information in the meat-locker all by himself. And Sector Seven would not go quietly. Well, they would, but they'd never really disappear.