Fandoms: Primeval / Transformers
Canon Characters: Christine Johnson; Rumble, Bumblebee,
Other characters: Peter James; Fleet.
note: this is an AU - the reason (and only change) is that here Connor got a car some time between 2.07 and 3.01
Rating/Category: PG-13 Gen
Spoilers: Primeval: 3.01; Transformers: Big Dang Movie, references to the original series. (all such references will be fully explained)
Summary: Christine Johnson is going to have Nick working for her? And why is a Decepticon helping to save mankind?
WARNINGS: none (at least none yet)
Images & voices - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKPqmxeRVbA
(Fleet sounds like a a female Soundwave)
Location: top floor of an office building undergoing renovations not far from Whitehall:
Rumble arrived early for the meeting, as ordered. He had gathered the surveillance required and acquired the physical evidence.
//vengeance will be had// was the thought he had in his mind on a veritable mental loop, just like the other survivors. It was the reason he was following the orders that he was, why he and the others were following /her/ orders.
Placing at the forefront of his mind an image of what he’d adopted as his default position on this world, Rumble transformed into a jackhammer lying on its side.
Decepticons were like any other machine intelligence: their time sense was maliable, yet simultaneously more accurate than that of the organics that were so pestiferous on planets.
Pests…pests that /she/ was collaborating with. Pests whose errands /she/ had sent Rumble to complete.
Captain Peter James arrived at the office building later that day, boxing up all of the things lying around. Pencils, rulers, a stapler… “Her way of making sure I don’t repeat the same mistakes,” James said to himself, even though the retreat had not been a mistake, not to his mind. And, eventually, in one room, he found that somebody had left a jackhammer.
He hoped that this was it. “Doesn’t look like anybody’s done any renovations ‘round here with that,” he noted. But, just to be sure, he checked the other rooms of the building before coming back to the jackhammer room.
His orders were clear. As Ms. Johnson had put it, ’You are to recover and bring back whatever you find at this location. Do you consider yourself capable of that much, Captain?’
So, no matter how much of a weird duty it was, Captain James picked up the piece of construction equipment, and hauled it back to the van. Nobody’d know if it went in the boot, right? Not even Ms. Johnson was *that* all-knowing.
Location: Johnson Residence:
Christine Johnson took a seat on her couch, glass of tonic in one hand, the other empty. When the phone rang, she groaned – until she saw who was calling: only one individual showed up as commas and periods on Caller ID. Christine picked up her phone, all business, “Hello.”
“You have the information you required?” the caller asked in a voice that was echo-y and female without being overly feminine. The closest thing to a name that this person – machine – had admitted to a name…was Fleet.
“I do. Your – your agent delivered it to me.” Christine had learned never to say ‘your man’ about even the most underling of this individual’s compatriots. More accurately, her late husband had learned, and it was something Christine did not wish to have inflicted upon herself.
“I will entrust you to Rumble,” Fleet said. “As to my portion of our bargain. Has progress been made?”
“It has,” Christine said. “We’ve captured one of the beasts, and it’s sitting in the lab, just waiting for us.”
“Excellent. You have done well.”
“Thank you,” she said. To anyone else, that statement of gratitude would have been laced with sarcasm and insult. But she knew that what she was talking to was a thing that one did not cross lightly – and preferably never. “Is there anything else?” Christine asked.
“Yes. Prepare statements for the induction of an ARC employee into your payroll.”
“Consider it done. I presume you have someone in mind already?”
“Any reason in particular why him?”
Christine knew better than to press. That machine had used threat and bribery to get her husband to initially work for it – and had used Christine’s ambition when she was the better tool for the machine to use. “Very well. I’m sure I can find a reason for Mr. Temple to leave the ARC for a little while.”
“You will handle the officials and commanders,” the machine said. “I will handle Connor Temple and the Autobot.”
Now that was a word she knew, though only from overhearing the machines use it. “Autobot? Here?”
“Soon,” Fleet said in a voice that threatened and promised in the same flat tone.
“I don’t understand,” and that was something she wouldn’t say to just anyone.
“Male psychology has its equivalent in autobot behavior. They are equally predictable,” and hung up.
“If men were predictable, Christine muttered as she placed her phone back in its cradle, “I would have married James Lester.”
At The Same Time:
Message: I-I-I Am Here. Am Willing To Talk. Only With You. Location Attached In Message.