Complicated Vows: This Is War

Intro: Dawn of the New Soldier

The air hangar was buzzing with activity, boots stomping one direction, white coats floating in another. Voices rang out incoherent commands from one end to the other, exchanging information over the din. All around, soldiers, scientists, and mechanics were studying, testing, analyzing, and collecting.

In the center of it all, an organized scrap heap of metal lay bare, with all manner of machines and instruments attached here and there. Two robot arms, two robot legs, a head, and a torso with a hole blown through the center lay cold and lifeless. Bits of bright blue paint flaked off the plates to rest on the floor, ignored and trampled by those studying the corpse. No one noticed those flaking chips, or the drips of energon as it leaked from various pipes and leads onto round husks of metal deep in the chest cavity, undetonated threats.

"This is quite the operation you've taken on, General Reims. How does it feel being the first human operation to get approval to research Cybertronian weapons?" Colonel Lennox stood on a raised platform in the hangar, overlooking all floor operations. Standing next to him, General Cheyanne Reims calmly oversaw the activity.

"Well, it's not exactly an all access pass," she said coolly. "Optimus is tied in with all of this, though he declined to help in our research. If we can't figure out some system or mechanic, we're dead in the water with our research. Besides, it's not like we could ever build one of them. Collectively, the human race is too dim to build the kind of functional artificial intelligence needed to pilot something like this," she stated flatly. While her face portrayed authority and intelligence, her posture suggested she stirred just beneath the surface with an honest thirst to understand how the mechs operated.

"Nonetheless, Colonel, I am quite excited to be the head of this research. With Optimus' blessing, we hope to at least learn how to defend ourselves better with their technology."

Lennox raised his eyebrows with a smirk. "Really? This is only for defense? No 'new and improved' weapons could ever come from this?"

A disapproving glance from the General told him all he needed to know, but she explained "We can't. Optimus expressly stated that their technology is not to be used for building weapons. He's seen humanity's palate for war, and doesn't wish to enhance our killing capabilities. Though it would be nice to at least test some of their guns," she chuckled before a shadow of regret covered her face. "How is the AB unit holding up? I heard they had lost Ratchet in the fight."

For just a few moments, while watching the bustling hangar, William had forgotten about the events of the past few days. Her question brought the weight settling back down on his shoulders, forcing a sigh from his lungs.

"They are, well... It's a tough situation. They lost both Jazz and Ratchet to this conflict, but managed to save Bee back from what seemed like destruction as well. Overall, they're coping well enough. I wish there was more we could do for them, but we're only human."

The hangar continued on with its work, ignorant to the melancholy conversation of the presiding officers. On the other side of the compound, in the furthest wing, rested Ratchets' body, corroding a little more every day. What little remained of the bot was being feverishly studied while the clock ticked down. They attempted to study the effects of the rust weapon that had been used to kill him. The most they had concluded, so far, was that he had been shot in the neck, the back, and the chest; the last two shots had been with the corrosive rounds. Additionally, all they could say about the damage was that it spread like a cancer with a mind of its own. Judging by the rate of decay, the body would not be solid enough for study by the end of the week.

In the center of the military base was the medical ward. It was whitewashed and bright, though only a few nurses and doctors staffed it currently. A phone would ring intermittently, people chatted about recent events, and the occasional cleaning staff swept through. Of the many recovery rooms, only one was occupied.

A soft and steady beeping was coming from behind the door, the noise of a cardiomoniter. Attached to the end of its receiver was a young woman with long brown hair, tousled and untamed around a flush, relaxed face. Her eyes twitched in REM sleep, the hint of a smile dancing across her face. She lay on a hospital bed, hooked to an IV, covered in bandages and casts.

After taking a nearly direct hit from one of the Raptors' assaults, Danielle had been violently thrown backward. The explosion had thrown shrapnel and the resulting landing caused a broken femur, a shattered collarbone, a fracture in her lower spine and a severe concussion. Titanium spinal cord pins were installed around the fracture, but no one was certain if she would ever walk again.

In her brief waking moments, she often suffered delirious fits of terror and anguish, begging nurses to tell her where Bumblebee was, what had happened to him. It usually ended with a few extra kicks of morphine before she descended back into a slumber.

Days drifted by like this. She was checked on by attending nurses, IV drips adjusted, bedding changed and skin washed. Slowly she came around, her body aching and itching, her mind slowly beating back the fog. Many times, she would simply wake up to stare out of the rooms' only window, examining the bleak orange expanse of desert sand.

Today was one such day, just the same as the last and probably the next. A wind rustled the shrub that peaked up from under her window, stirring the sand on the roadway that ran past it. It was morning, or maybe evening, the sky a pale violet-pink. The clock in the room read 12:41, as it always did, but the seconds hand never moved. Her gaze wandered, unfocused, over the barren landscape outside. The hospital corridor had the usual hushed voices, soft footsteps, and occasional trills of a phone.

The dismal environment, along with the medicines, began to lull Danielle back to sleep. Her vision began to blur and her eyelids drooped. A small sigh bloomed as she slowly dropped back towards sleep.

Just before she reached unconsciousness, her ears popped as a deafening boom ripped through the air. The room shook and the window shattered into a glittering rain. The lights flickered and the machines she was connected to complained. Shouts rang out in the corridor as white smoke began to drift by outside her window.