I'm Eighteen, Officer, I Swear

Everybody sing like it's the last song you will ever sing
Tell me, tell me, do you feel the pressure now?
Everybody live like it's the last day you will ever see
Tell me, tell me, do you feel the pressure now?
Everybody sing like it's the last song you will ever sing
Tell me, tell me, do you feel the pressure?

Alright, so you think you're ready?
Ok, then you say this with me
Go!
We were born for this

Chapter Sixteen: Boom Boom, Baby

Secretary Keller wasn't on the plane with us, but he was giving us our orders from the ground, his face projected onto a screen as we, the soldiers and the bots alike, crowded around him. There weren't many of us- maybe fifteen humans, plus the 'bots, and we were all suited up, all the weaponry either on our back, on a table, or, in the bot's case, in out bodies.

I was nervous and grew even more so whilst listening to Keller. But I'd never been more proud of anything in my life- I was a part of something so much bigger than me. I was a soldier for a nation I loved more than my own life. There was no higher honor than that.

"The terrorists are in Iceland," he said, "and all of our intel indicates that they have a nuclear weapon."

"Well, shit," I said, conversationally, and Lennox glanced at me.

"How you deal with the situation," Keller continued, an implicit trust in his voice and his bright blue eyes, "is completely up to you. But, on a more personal note, I feel that you need to know that NEST was formed without the authority of the president. Now that he is aware of your existence," he nodded around at all of us, his face severe, "he is not happy about it. One mistake… and everything is done. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Lennox, the unofficial leader of the humans, as Prime nodded gravely. Keller sighed.

"No one could doubt your skill or judgment in a time of crisis," he said. "This is not a team formed for the rigidity of plans or authority. This is a team formed for its skill in improvisation, for thinking on its feet, for getting the job done, no matter what the cost." He glanced up at me.

"Gentlemen- lady- get the job done. No matter what the cost. Good luck."

The screen went black. I exchanged a glance with Jazz, who looked very, very excited.

I kind of felt like I wanted to throw up.

Everyone here was battle worn. They knew what to do when explosions racked the earth and when bullets sang through the air. They were experienced. Calm. Composed.

I was just a teenager who flailed when I was excited and snorted when I laughed and drank too much coffee and had a thing for ex-government agents and married men and liked listening to loud music whose best friend happened to be a giant robot from outer space.

"You aright, Kat?" murmured Lennox. I let my head fall against the wall of the plane with a dull 'thunk'.

"What 'm I doin' here, Will?"

He leaned forward, brows furrowing, and looked me in the eye. "What?"

I sighed, gesturing around the plane, at all the military men, laughing and talking easily as though we were flying to a party instead of to war, and at the Bots, who were talking in Cybertonian, not worried at all.

"I'm just… a kid, William. And, I mean, while I love the action and the excitement and… all of it, I guess, I don't know… how to deal with everything."

He grasped my chin, looking right at me, his eyes calm and friendly and comforting. "Katty, what you're feeling is completely normal. Everyone here is worried, or nervous. We all know that we might not all make it home." A grin spread across his ridiculously gorgeous face and the urge to flail rose up in my stomach. "We're just better at hiding it. It'll get easier, kiddo. Don't worry about being afraid."

He was still holding my chin, squishing my cheeks up and puffing out my lips. He laughed at me.

"You look like a pufferfish."

There were loud thuds and then Jazz was standing next to Will in his bipedal form. His optics were twinkling, his hands on his metal hips as he grinned down at us.

"I tell 'er that ev'ry day, Cap'n."

I twisted gently out of Will's grasp before sticking my tongue out at the cackling Jazz. "Shut up, tinny."

"Like I said, tiny, unless you're gonna do somethin' interestin' with that tongue-" He sat down with a 'thud' that shook the plane and crossed his legs.

" 'Tiny'?" asked Will, laughing. " 'Tinny'?"

"Oh, just wait till you hear about 'Humphrey' and 'Bon QuiQui'," I said, grinning despite the fear that was still wrapping around my stomach. Will had just taken a swig of water and now choked, his face red and his eyes watering as he tried to hold in his laughter, his cheeks puffed out from the water. Jazz stared at him in alarm as I cackled triumphantly.

"Oh, who's the pufferfish now?"

He swallowed and collapsed in hysterical laughter.

000

We stayed at a bunker that night after a meeting with Icelandic Homeland Security, who explained the situation to us.

The terrorists were radical environmentalists who were planning, according to intel, to blow up a steel factory in the middle of the workday tomorrow, when business would be thriving and when the factory would be cram-packed with innocent people.

Lennox, who was the commanding officer now, told us we had three hours.

Then the shit would hit the fan.

I nodded and headed to go find a place to sleep but Lennox grabbed my arm, shaking his head.

"You, Epps and the robots are staying with me," he said, his eyebrows raising. I just looked at him.

"Why?"

He grinned. "Cause we gotta come up with a method of attack, and after hearing about some of the plans you've come up with, I think you'll come in handy."

We, Lennox, Epps, the bots, me, and an Icelander who was a strategic genius, gathered around a table stacked with blue prints of the factory and the terrorists' hide-out.

And we began plotting. We tossed around ideas, plan after plan, of how to lure the terrorists out. How to lure them out, how to get our hands on the nuke, how to do this thing without people dying.

I simply sat and stared at the blueprints, thoughts whirling across my mind, half-formulated plans that I didn't even mention aloud as the others talked.

There had to be a way. There was always a way.

But if two soldiers, one genius strategist, and five ancient aliens couldn't find it, why in the world would one teenager be able to?

I stared, very hard, at the blueprints for the safehouse.

"Do you have any info on the terrorists? On them, individually?" I asked suddenly, looking up. Everyone stopped talking and looked to me.

The Icelander pushed a folder over to me and I began scanning it furiously before looking up at all of them, their faces expectant.

"I have an idea to get them out of the house," I said, my eyes wide. "All of them, 'cause even if they go to check something out, they'll leave guards."

"Let's hear it," rumbled Ironhide. I hesitated.

"It's… it's pretty out there. And really risky. But…. but it just might work."

000

Three hours later and I was in Jazz with five other soldiers as we zoomed to the terrorists' base. My heart was pounding and my fingers were shaking as I inserted the ear-piece into my ear.

"Katty," I heard Lennox's voice. "Do you read?"

"Yep. My mother taught me."

"You guys good to go?"

I looked around at all of the soldiers, who nodded. "Yep."

"Do your thing, sweep the place for any weapons, and get any terrorists back to base. If possible, don't kill anyone."

"No promises," I said, with a grin sweeping across my face. I heard him chuckle.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm startin' to get excited."

"Alright. Just play your part 'n play it well, alright, Katty? I'll see ya on the other side. Over."

I took a deep breath. One of the soldiers leaned forward and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, a grin on his face. He was pretty cute, I thought, with sparkling green eyes and short black hair that stuck up in every direction. He looked like he might have some Native American in him. My brow furrowed.

"You do look pretty familiar…"

His grin widened. "I saved your life in Mission City."

The memory hit me like a ton of bricks and I turned around as much as I could in my seat with my jaw dropped.

"That was you? Are you okay? What happened to you? Is your back healed?"

There was a tug at my seatbelt, Jazz's way of telling me he was annoyed. I tugged it back, glaring at the dashboard, and then it tightened all the way, slamming me back against the seat.

"Okay, Jazz, that's just unnecessary."

The engine growled and I rolled my eyes before turning back to the laughing and attractive soldier.

"Anyway, what's your name?"

"Mitch," he replied. "Mitch Longshadow."

So he was Native American.

I grinned and stuck a hand out to him that he shook, laughing.

"Katty Sherman."

"Stop flirting, humans," growled Jazz. "We're here."

000

A man in his fifties, named Rodney Sibjorn, answered the door when the bell rang, leaving the younger men around the table. Everyone else was already gone to the factory.

He opened the door and his jaw dropped and he blinked several times, his mind completely blank.

A very pretty blonde girl smiled up at him sweetly, but he was staring at the plunging neckline of her shirt and her legs under the very short skirt and the boots that came up to her knees.

"Who is it?" called one of the younger men in Icelandic.

"Uh…"

"I'm Adrianna," said the girl with a voice that had to be what sex would sound like if it had a voice, a little deeper than most women's, a little raspy, very sexy and with an American accent. A smirk curved the girl's face. "You're Rodney, right? It's your birthday today, isn't it?"

The man nodded, still speechless, and the girl stepped forward, her smirk growing, looking up at him from underneath long, thick lashes.

"Your brother told me how you like… how you like girls like me."

He just nodded, unable to tear his eyes off her. Her smirk grew into a grin and she put a tiny hand with a Celtic ring on her middle finger onto his chest before pressing herself up against him, bringing her lips up to his ear.

"Happy birthday, Rodney." Her lips brushed his skin and set it on fire.

She backed away suddenly, walking around him towards the rest of the men with a sway in her hips that would make a monk think unholy thoughts. And Rodney Sibjorn was no monk. He didn't even think about how many baby seals must have been killed for all the oil in the make-up she was wearing, or how much carbon it took to make those leather boots. He wasn't really thinking at all.

"Are these your friends?" she asked smoothly as she entered the next room. Rodney followed her, unable to keep his eyes off of her.

"Yeah," he said, as the other men's jaws dropped and they stared at her. She looked around at all of them before turning back to Rodney, a gleam in her bright blue eyes.

"I think you're the cutest," she purred, and the man's heart almost stopped. He had no idea that the purring female in front of his was restraining herself from cackling, or that she thought he looked like a panda bear on crack.

You almost had to feel sorry for him.

000

"How's it going?" asked one of the soldiers outside. The metal robot just stared through the walls of the house before shaking his head.

"She's layin' it on pretty thick," he said in his rumbling, mechanical voice.

Mitch shook his head, a grin on his face. "I almost feel sorry for that guy."

Jazz just grunted, watching the scene play out through the wall.

000

"Who- who are you?" asked one of the terrorists, a young man in his twenties named Sigburn. The girl gave him a quick, flashing smile as she moved around the kitchen like she owned it, grabbing bottles and opening them and then setting them down in front of the terrorists, all of whom were only more than happy to drink the alcoholic beverages she was giving them.

"I'm Rodney's birthday present," she said. "But I don't mind being shared."

The men looked at Rodney, who was looking at 'Adrianna'. "Det er bursdagen din?" someone asked him in Icelandic. Rodney shrugged.

"Jeg femtitre," he replied, also in Icelandic.

000

"He's fifty-three," Jazz translated quickly. "Kat, say this: Menn er som en god vin, får de bedre med aldermen."

000

'Adrianna' repeated the words with a small smile on her face and the terrorists stared at her.

"It means 'men are like you are like a fine wine; they get better with age'," hissed Jazz in her ear. 'Adrianna' didn't blink.

"C'mon," she said to Rodney, trailing her hand across his chest, those eyes glinting up at him like pieces of the ocean trapped in her face. Her hand trailed down his arm, her fingers scratching him lightly, before taking hold of his hand gently and leading him down the hallway and into a bedroom.

The eco-terrorists all exchanged a glance and then took a communal swig of the beers she'd given them.

000

"Is she actually gonna sleep with him?" asked Mitch quietly.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Jazz said, his voice little more than a growl.

000

"What- what are you?" gasped Rodney in accented American as the girl straddled him. He blinked. Everything was beginning to go fuzzy. She grinned at him, leaning down and nipping his earlobe.

"I'm everything you ever dreamed of."

He passed out.

Katty waited a moment before climbing off of him, a disgusted look on her face as she pulled off the ridiculous shirt to reveal the plain black tank, pulling her hair back into a pony-tail as she walked out of the room. She reached down and pulled her gun out of her boot, holding it up to her chest as she peered around the kitchen wall to see the terrorists slumped over their beers.

"Got five terrorists," she muttered, knowing the ear-piece would pick it up. "Four in the kitchen, one in a bedroom."

The soldiers burst in, their weapons raised.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

Mitch tossed Katty her pants and her boots, trying not to stare at her legs. She nodded at him and ducked into the bathroom to change quickly.

Jazz, outside, scanned the house again for any nuclear weapons, but found no sign of radiation.

" 'S not here," he rumbled. "It must already be at the factory. Kat, get out here. We got our orders, they've got theirs, but Prime said he wanted us where the action is. Let them take carra the terrorists, we gotta go, kiddo-"

He transformed back into a car as Katty strode out of the house, back in army clothes, the mini-skirt and hooker boots over her arm as she slid into the passenger seat, tossing the clothes in the back.

"They're calling for transport for the terrorists," she told Jazz. The engine revved and they were off.

000

"Was that really necessary back there?" growled Jazz's voice as we zoomed down the road to the factory. I looked up from the radio I was fiddling with to let Lennox know we were on the way and stared at the dash in front of me.

"Was what necessary?"

"Actin' like that."

"… Jazz, I was saying I was a prostitute. They're not exactly sunflowers and rainbows."

"Ya seemed like you were getting' in to it."

Now I was getting a little annoyed. "What, you think I enjoyed hitting on a guy who's killed people? You think I don't know what Rodney Sibjurn's done?"

"You sure as hell acted like ya enjoyed it, kid."

"It's called 'acting' for a reason, Jazz. Meaning, it's not real. And anyway, why are you biting my head off for getting the job done?"

The engine growled and he sped up. I glared angrily at the dash, my mouth open slightly. "What is your problem, Jazz?"

He said nothing but his anger surrounded me. Shaking my head, more than a little pissed of myself, I folded my arms as I pressed a button on the radio.

"Lennox, this is Tiny. Over."

"I read you, Tiny. What's the status? Over."

"The bomb is at the factory. Repeat, the bomb is at the factory. Tiny and Tinny are in route. ETA is two minutes. Over."

"Alright. Come in the back. We've located terrorists-"

At that moment there was a burst of gunfire and what sounded like an explosion. I felt my stomach go cold.

"Will?"

There was a silence.

"William!"

Think, Katty. He's not dead; he's in the second movie.

Jazz sped up. A cough came over the earpiece. I was clutching the 'ohshit' handle so tightly my knuckles cracked.

"It's not good, Kat." He coughed.

"We'll be there in less than a minute, Lennox," said Jazz suddenly. "Hang in there."

The line went dead. I stared up in horror.

Jazz sped up even more.

000

The factory loomed ahead. As soon as we reached it Jazz skidded to a stop and I leapt out of it, gun at the ready, as Jazz transformed in two seconds.

"There's the door," I said, running for it. The sounds of gunfire echoed around from inside the building. Jazz ran after me, very quiet for someone who weighed several tons.

"Tinny, what's going on in there?" I asked him, our argument not forgotten, but pushed aside in lieu of more important things. Jazz stared at the wall.

"The nuke's on th' other side of th' room," he said. "Bee's tryin' ta get t' it- but the terrorists keep blockin' 'im- our people are tryin' to cover 'im- and- no!"

There was a boom that shook the building.

"What is it?"

" 'Hide's down," he said through gritted metal jaws.

"Give me the bigger gun."

He held out his arm and the gun slid out of it. I flicked the safety on on the handheld and slid it down the front of my pants before vigorously cocking the machine gun. I felt cold.

Ironhide….

"Tell me when, tinny."

Five seconds passed with Jazz staring at the wall, me staring at him.

Ten seconds.

"Now!" he shouted, before raising his arms, cannons whirring. The walls buckled under one shot and he scooped me up, running in amid fresh screams. The factory workers were huddled against the sides of the building and in the middle was a full on shoot-out. Jazz's cannons didn't stop firing and I took aim at a man who had his sights trained on Lennox.

I pulled the trigger, there was a bang, and he fell to the ground.

I leapt out of Jazz's hand, rolling when I hit the ground, ducking as gunfire whizzed over my head.

"Cover Bee!" Lennox shouted as bullets sailed through the air. Jazz ran, ducking and rolling, shooting at the humans. I ran to Lennox, who looked at me with his brow furrowed. He stared at me like he'd never seen anything quite like me.

I probably had something on my face.

" 'Y came in the nick of time-"

There was another explosion and he threw himself on top of me. I looked up from underneath him and saw another terrorist taking aim at us-

I grabbed the pistol that was tucked in the back of Lennox's pants and shot the man with my arm wrapped around Will's waist. Will lifted his head up, looking over as the man fell to the ground before looking back at me.

"Nice."

"Well, I try."

There was a sudden whine of noise and all the blood drained from Lennox's face.

"What the hell was that?" he shouted. There was a moment of very, very intense silence in which my heart pounded so hard I thought it would pound right out of my body.

"He did it!" said Jazz, his voice relieved. "Bee disabled the bomb!"

All the tension went out of my body and I let my head fall back against the concrete. Will climbed off of me, offering me a hand and pulling me to my feet.

The soldiers had the terrorists surrounded, their guns aimed, their faces hard. Ratchet carried Ironhide out of the factory through the convenient hole Jazz had made in the wall.

"Is anyone hurt?" I called to the factory workers. They said nothing and I scanned all of them for injuries. Some of them were bruised and all of them were filthy, but there didn't look to be any threatening injuries.

I turned to the terrorists, surrounded by soldiers and with Prime and Jazz towering over them. I made my way over, my entire body shaking. My shoulder was stinging and I looked down to see blood. It looked like a bullet had grazed my shoulder. It hurt, but I'd be fine.

Bumblebee carried the now-harmless bomb out of the factory, and I patted his foot as he passed me. He gave a burst of intense action music that sounded like it may have been from Pirates of the Caribbean, making me laugh before I reached the terrorists and soldiers. Prime gave off a pulse that yanked the terrorists' weapons away, though the soldiers kept hold of theirs. The terrorists glared around at all of us.

"Icelandic authorities are on their way to arrest you," said Lennox loudly, with Prime translating, "and they are also going to your safe-house."

There was a very ugly look on Epp's face as he glared down the gun at them.

I clutched my shoulder, blood running down my arm, and let the grin slide over my face.

We were all alive. We were all in one piece.

NEST would survive.

TBC...

"Born For This," by Paramore.

A/N: Um... hi? I missed you guys?

Honestly, I have no excuse for my absence except that this last year has been absolutely insane and very, very busy. Everything kind of froze over the school year because of the amount of work I've had, and now it's summer and I have a job, which is nice for the money, but also sucks. I'm going to get started on ROTF as soon as I can find it on line and then this story I'll finish up sporadically after the last installment. Hope that makes sense. I've missed you guys!

Oh, and cause I promised her I would. The girl I'm writing this for, Katty Noir, is writing a story about Supernatural, with, of course, an OC. I've read the first few chapters and it's really good, so go check it out as she uploads! I think she's got the first chapter up and that's it.

I LOVE ALL YOU PEOPLE SO MUCH!

Sarah