1:00 PM – The Pentagon – Emergency Meeting Room
The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension. Cold blue light from the large screen cast shadows on the solemn faces. On the screen, footage of the devastated SOCCENT military base played frame by frame. Fighter jets lay in smoking ruins. The wreckage still smoldered, with red-hot metal shards scattered everywhere — as if the place had just endured the wrath of something not of this world.
John Keller, the Secretary of Defense, stood upright at the head of the table. His eyes were dark, staring intently at the catastrophe before him. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath, struggling to suppress the rage boiling inside.
The room was silent. A few exchanged glances, but no one spoke. Keller clasped his hands tightly, his knuckles turning white. His gaze seemed to demand an answer he already knew would be unsatisfactory.
- Someone tell me... what the hell just attacked us? — His voice was low and sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
Colonel Sharpe, the commanding officer who had received a late report from a group of soldiers absent during the SOCCENT massacre, swallowed hard before responding:
- Sir... we still haven't identified it. — Sharpe's voice was quiet, as though he himself couldn't believe the words he was saying.
Keller narrowed his eyes, his glare piercing through him.
- Haven't identified it? — His voice dropped lower, each word heavy as metal, falling into the silence like a verdict.
Sharpe took a deep breath.
- At 6:00 PM local time, radar detected an unidentified object approaching from the north. The flying object was identified as... an MH-53 helicopter that was shot down three months ago in Afghanistan.
The room fell silent. The air hung heavy with disbelief. Keller cursed under his breath.
- A downed aircraft… coming back to life? What is this? Some kind of sci-fi movie?
His voice was rough but razor-sharp, slicing through the room. No one answered. No one dared to. A few nervous glances flicked across the conference table. A pen tapped lightly against the wooden surface. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
Keller closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself.
- The system was destroyed in under seven seconds. The entire base wiped out in seven minutes. Whose technology is this?
Colonel Sharpe was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he exhaled, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts.
- We... we don't know, sir. I never thought something like this was even possible.
The room fell into silence again. The people gathered there — veterans of war and death — now stared at each other with bewildered eyes.
The National Security Advisor sat nearby, his back straight as steel. He tapped his fingers slowly on the table, keeping his voice calm:
-We've checked all the data. No terrorist group has this kind of technology. This isn't Russia. It's not China. It's not any military force we've ever known.
A wave of murmurs rippled through the room. A few officers whispered to each other. People who had once stood firm in the face of war now exchanged worried glances.
- But sir... — Colonel Sharpe continued, his voice lower this time. — ...there's something even more concerning.
Keller turned to him, his eyes cold as a blade.
- Speak.
Sharpe swallowed hard before pressing a button on the table. The screen switched to the final audio recording they had recovered.
The sound echoed — cold, mechanical, yet carrying the weight of a living being. A low growl, the grinding and cracking of metal, like a giant beast stirring in its cage, mixed with the final panicked cries of the soldiers. A few officers instinctively stepped back. Someone swallowed hard. A chill ran down the spine of everyone in the room.
This wasn't just machinery.
This was a being.
Something far beyond humanity's understanding.
Keller narrowed his eyes.
- Language...? You're telling me this is a life form.
John Sharpe shook his head, frustration etched deeply on his face.
- If it is life… then it has far surpassed us. These hackers accessed our system in seconds, while it takes us weeks to break through the first layer.
Silence lingered. The large screen cast a cold blue glow on the tense faces in the room. Keller exhaled slowly.
- I want to know exactly what we're dealing with… and I want to know IMMEDIATELY.
He glanced around the room, his gaze sweeping over each person, slow but piercing.
- If we don't… — Keller paused, his voice dropping with weight.
- We might not live long enough to find out.
---
Virginia, USA
Breaking News —
- We have just received an urgent report… An unprecedented attack has taken place at the SOCCENT military base in Qatar. Sources indicate the base was nearly leveled within minutes. The exact number of casualties remains unknown.
The TV screen displayed shaky footage from a handheld camera. Flames and thick black smoke curled into the sky, charred metal debris scattered across the desert sand. Sirens blared in the background, piercing through the air alongside the steady thrum of helicopters circling above.
Sarah Lennox stood frozen in front of the screen, clutching her young child tightly in her arms. The flickering light from the TV reflected on her face — a mix of shock and suffocating worry. Her husband's anxious expression and his last words before their network connection was abruptly cut off kept replaying in her mind.
The child squirmed slightly, sensing the tension in its mother. Sarah instinctively patted the baby, but her eyes remained glued to the broadcast.
She took a trembling breath, swallowing hard. Her fingers gripped her phone tightly, but she couldn't bring herself to dial. She had called William… no answer. Why was she doing this? William could only call her through the military's shared communication terminal.
But she kept calling anyway, met each time with silence — a silence that felt like an invisible wall, tightening around her chest with every unanswered ring.
A photograph appeared on the screen — lifeless bodies of soldiers being lifted onto stretchers. The reporter's voice echoed faintly in the background:
- "We still do not have an official list of the fallen. Families of the soldiers are advised to wait for formal updates from the military."
- Please… just call me… — Sarah whispered in a trembling breath.
She closed her eyes tightly, resting her forehead against the edge of the chair. The baby whimpered softly in her arms, but she no longer had the strength to soothe him.
For a moment, the sound of the TV seemed distant.
Only the steady drone of the news remained — a cruel lullaby.
—-
Qatar Desert, 9:00 PM
Five soldiers — Lennox, Epps, Fig, Sácz, and Donnelly — sat back to back in the cramped vehicle while Guerra drove. Their breathing was heavy, exhausted, with tired, hollow eyes. They had just escaped hell.
William Lennox leaned against the side of the vehicle, head bowed low, his voice rough and strained:
- Damn it... The entire base... and this is all that's left.
Epps, the only surviving communications engineer, sighed, his gaze fixed on the window:
- Yeah… and I don't even know what the hell just happened. A machine? Something as big as a building? I don't get it.
He turned to Lennox, his eyes filled with exhaustion:
- We just fought something… that doesn't belong to this world.
Sácz, the gunner, rested his head against the back of his seat, suppressing the pain from the scrapes on his arm:
- No… we didn't fight. We ran.
He took a deep, heavy breath.
- And I didn't even get to say goodbye.
Silence fell once again.
Only the growl of the engine echoed through the night.
Lennox clenched his fists tightly, his voice catching in his throat:
- We… we promised we'd never leave anyone behind.
He gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.
- And yet, I had to leave the whole team right in front of me.
Epps placed a hand on Lennox's shoulder, shaking his head gently:
- Don't blame yourself, Will. If we had stayed, we'd just be its next meal.
He paused, holding back his emotions.
- We've fought from Baghdad to Mosul to Basra… I thought we'd seen everything war could throw at us. But this time…
He looked at Lennox, eyes sunken.
- We don't even know what we're up against.
Sácz let out a faint smirk.
- Something… big and black.
He gave a dry chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but no one laughed.
Guerra, the sniper — now bandaging his injured arm — had taken the wheel because he was the best driver with a sniper's keen vision. He muttered under his breath:
- We don't even know why it attacked. These eyes of mine have seen a lot… but that thing? That's not something I ever wanted to see.
He glanced at the others.
- I thought this was some kind of high-tech terrorist attack or something.
- Terrorist my ass, — Sácz scoffed bitterly.
- It crushed tanks like they were paper. Dozens of soldiers turned into meat in seconds…
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
- If this is terrorism… they just hired a goddamn demon.
Silence fell once more.
Donnelly, the logistics officer, huddled quietly in the corner. His voice broke the stillness:
- …Who says it's terrorism? Could be aliens for all we know.
He stared up at the ceiling, his gaze distant.
- Maybe they don't care who we are… maybe they just want us gone.
Fig, sitting next to Donnelly, let out a weary sigh:
- Or worse… maybe they don't even see us as anything.
He shook his head slightly, staring down at his trembling hands.
- I thought I was ready for anything… but this time…
His voice cracked.
- …It feels like we're nothing but dust beneath their feet.
Lennox looked down at the floor of the vehicle, his voice calm and subdued:
- What did Harris say to you before he got on that helicopter, Epps?
Epps' expression softened, his voice turning hoarse:
- He said… if I ever got the chance to come back, to bring a beer… Said I owed him one from Baghdad.
Lennox let out a faint smile, but his eyes remained distant.
- You remember Baghdad? — Sácz squinted, smiling faintly.
- Lennox shouted right in the commander's face, said if they sent my squad up first, he'd punch him in the face.
- Yeah… and I would've done it too. — Lennox let out a dry chuckle.
- You were crazy. If you had punched him, a week of guard duty wouldn't have been enough. — Epps burst out laughing.
Their laughter echoed softly, but it soon faded.
Fig shook his head with a faint smile:
- God… maybe this is the last day we all laugh together.
Silence fell once more.
Only the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks of the vehicle remained.
Donnelly stared at the distant horizon before quietly speaking:
- We've survived too much to die in an old truck like this.
He lifted his head, looking straight at the team.
- Maybe… we're still alive for a reason. And that reason can't be regret.
Guerra nodded in agreement:
- Yeah. I'd rather die punching that thing in the face than live with this memory.
Epps spoke, knowing he shouldn't say it, but unable to shake the worry inside:
- I know I shouldn't say this, but… if that thing saw our faces, it's probably hunting us right now.
Lennox smiled faintly, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.
- Yeah… you're probably right.
His expression no longer held fear — only acceptance.
- So if it comes… we'll fight.
He looked at each of them, one by one.
- To the last bullet.
The engine roared as the truck rolled on.
The starry sky ahead was waiting for them.
—-
Above the Skies of Qatar, 1:20 AM
Blackout roared across the late-night sky of the sand-covered city. At this hour, no one was awake enough to notice that an invisible aircraft wasn't just about appearances — it was invisible to radar as well. The giant rotor blades obscured the pale moonlight. The engine growled, shattering the night's silence like a menacing declaration. He was still scanning the surrounding areas one last time before leaving.
Inside his metallic belly, Frenzy — a small, wiry mass of tangled wires and metal — struggled to cling to a support beam. Each heavy jolt slammed his head against the steel walls, producing an irritating "clang" over and over.
Frenzy gritted his teeth and snarled in his high-pitched, irritable voice:
[What kind of flying is this?! You scrap heap with wings! Trying to kill me before we even get there?!]
Blackout remained silent, ignoring Frenzy's cursing, focused entirely on his mission. Suddenly, a transmission came through. It was from Barricade — the notorious Cybertronian enforcer, currently on a mission to track down an Autobot scout hiding somewhere in the United States.
Blackout's deep, emotionless voice rumbled through the comms:
[Barricade needs you. He wants you to slip into places he can't.]
Before Frenzy could react, the metallic sound of hydraulics echoed. A massive cargo hatch began to open, revealing the howling night sky.
Frenzy panicked, grabbing at the nearest steel frame, his high-pitched voice shrieking:
[Wait! Hold on! Why me?! You could at least—]
[I don't have time. Handle it.]
Blackout suddenly tilted to one side, dropping altitude with a powerful jolt.
[SCRAP YOU!!!]
Frenzy was flung out of the compartment, hurled into the endless void.
[Aaaaaaahhhh—!!!]
He tumbled through the night air, limbs flailing like the world was ending. The wind howled in his ears. A few seconds later…
THUD!!
Frenzy slammed into the ground, sending a cloud of sand into the air. His body shattered into pieces. He lay still for a moment, his metal frame trembling, systems automatically reassembling him piece by piece until he staggered upright. His glowing eyes scanned the surroundings.
He growled, muttering in a voice filled with static irritation:
[Ungrateful scrap heap… He really threw me out here?!]
Before him stood a massive international airport. Bright lights illuminated the tarmac as planes roared down the runway, and people bustled about in a flurry of human activity. Small as he was, it took Frenzy quite a while to navigate through the maze of vehicles and crowds.
—-
After a long, tiresome journey, he finally reached the airport parking lot. But… no Decepticon was there.
Frenzy stood still, bewildered. His eyes flicked toward the terminal signs, blinking rapidly as his processors slowly pieced together a horrifying truth.
[Doha International Airport… Wait… This is still… Qatar?!]
He froze. A cold wave of data surged through his metal frame. For a brief second, his servos stiffened. Then the devastating realization exploded in his mind like a violent detonation.
[Barricade is in the U.S.!!!]
The metal plating on his body flared up like spikes, sharp and trembling. He whipped his head toward the sky.
A dark speck — Blackout — was disappearing beyond the horizon, leaving only the cold, indifferent stars twinkling above.
Frenzy raised his tiny arms toward the heavens, screaming in a shrill, metallic voice:
[YOU JUST LEFT ME HERE AND FLEW OFF?!]
Rage boiled over like molten steel. He jumped up and down, pounding his fists against the ground. His small metal frame trembled violently, but to any onlooker, it looked like a puppy throwing a tantrum.
[I AM THE DECEPTICONS' GENIUS! THE DATA-CRACKER! THE GREATEST INTELLECT PRIMUS EVER CREATED!]
His scream echoed through the empty parking lot, startling a few nearby birds into flight.
Frenzy panted, his metal frame hissing as servos vented heat. One second, two seconds… Then he stopped. His glowing blue eyes dimmed slightly in the darkness.
In a voice so faint it sounded like a whisper echoing inside his own cold metal core, he murmured:
[I thought… we were teammates. Comrades in arms… But no. You treat me like roadside scrap.]
He stood there, alone amidst the airport's bright lights and the roaring chaos of the human world — a world that neither knew nor cared about a tiny machine trembling with anger and resentment.
He looked around. A few humans had spotted him. They gawked, pulling out their phones to record this bizarre sight.
Frenzy flinched.
[No, no, no! No evidence allowed!]
He fired a small EMP pulse. The phones exploded in their hands, sending smoke curling upward.
The crowd screamed in terror, scattering in all directions. Frenzy took the chance to slip into the shadows. His eyes flicked toward the terminal sign:
"Flight to Washington, D.C. — Now Boarding."
Frenzy sneered.
[Hmph… Fine. I don't need any of you. Not the first time I've had to hitch a ride with these lowly creatures.]
He clapped his tiny metal hands together confidently.
[I'll get to the U.S. myself… and you're all going to regret leaving me here.]
He darted off like a gust of wind, his tiny frame vanishing into the shadows, slipping through unseen corners. From a distance, his voice still echoed faintly:
[I curse your entire scrap heap of a family, Blackout — may you all lose your heads!]
—-
In the vast night sky above, Blackout continued flying steadily toward a fixed direction. As he glanced back at his "handiwork," he noticed two long tire tracks etched into the sand. Faint to human eyes, but to him, as clear as ink on white paper. Two tracks running in a solitary direction, unlike the chaotic, frantic tire marks left by the rescue team.
His comm system crackled with a single line in Cybertronian:
[Must complete the mission. Finish off the rest.]
His engines thundered louder. He soared into the distance, his massive form fading into the endless void of the night.
EndofChapter3