Title: This New Divide
Summary: SG!AU of the movie continuity. The Decepticons were led to believe that the humans had shared their every secret. Now they find that they've been lied to.
Rating: T
Notes: Happy new years everyone! For me, the clock just turned to 2012, a leap year, also known as the year of the dragon.
Well it's been a year since I started Our New Divide and I have finally returned with a sequel. It would have been sooner but with Transformers: Dark of the Moon, it was as though RotF never happened. So this story sank to the bottom of my writing list, pending redraft, reformatting, re-etc. Now, I have given up on trying to understand the mechanics of the live-action history and decided to treat this story as it is—an AU.
Edit: It should be noted that unless you've read Our New Divide, this fic won't make much sense. If you still don't want to read it, here's a summary in brief: The noble Decepticons follow the Allspark to Earth where they clash against the evil Autobots. In the ensuing chaos, both sides suffer losses with the Allspark eluding them once more. This is where this fic picks up.
Disclaimer: At this point, I'm repeating this out of habit. I do not own Transformers.
Warning: none, oh right, un-betaed. One of these days, I'll have to find one for my very own.

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The alien was twisted in shape, ruined, bulky and protruding, making it difficult to place it in a trailer as originally planned. Instead, Powers had someone drape a thick tarp over the still-sparking remains, bright blue and terribly conspicuous in the dark space inside the Hoover Dam.

Simmons felt frazzled and a little sick, as though he had been running on little sleep and too much coffee over the past month. Waving his arms around like a madman, he directed people left and right, screaming when he found a single square inch of the alien exposed—the shiny surface looking ready to come alive at any moment.

Powers pulled him away and told him to go home.

In the end, they all held their breaths as the twenty-odd tons of wreckage were wheeled out into the sun.

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Thomas Johnson, a small boy of eight, whined and kicked at the passenger seat, determined to be heard over the blast of music from the stereo. His mother, her ruddy features pinched and worn, swiveled around, frizzy hair a disturbing halo around her head as she slapped his knee. With luck, they would be stopping at a rest stop and a gas station soon to see what was wrong with the air conditioning—so could he please shut up and try to behave? He would be much cooler if he'd just calm down and sit still.

The woman handed her son the wrinkled printouts of a map and fanned her face. In a past life, maybe nine years ago, the route might have seemed scenic, but with their advent of their son and a futile attempt at a family vacation, it was all she could do to stop herself from howling out loud herself. Her husband, balding and a slight paunch around his middle, patted her hand absentmindedly with a sweaty palm. He squinted at the succession of signs and turned his music up as loud as it could go.

Dejected, Tommy threw the leaves of paper aside, his stringy blond hair sticking like a cap to his skull. Pouting, he stuck his head out the open window to see if he could catch bugs in his mouth. His mother yelled don't do that and he quickly pulled his head back in when he caught sight of a truck with a rusted grill.

Grinning in excitement, Tommy was about to pump his arm up and down in the national sign for the man to blow his horn when he saw the tarp-covered heaps of metal behind the rusted grill. In between the bright blue, he could see bits of twisted metal sticking out, dripping black oil and obviously beyond repair.

"Disgusting" his mother denounced critically. "The way some of these people drive. You listen to me Tommy..."

Artfully, Tommy tuned her out, hoping that the trap would somehow miraculously flap back to reveal the treasure of wreckage beneath. Suddenly, he noticed that the truck windows were tinted black. Like the government-issue vehicles in the C-rated movies he and his father liked to watch. Eyes wide, the boy swept up and down the lurid tarp for clues. Was it an alien space ship? Wow!

He stuck his head back out the window. The top of his head quickly warmed beneath the Californian sun and for a moment, he did not mind the residual sticky heat. He grabbed a camera from where it had been preciously tucked behind the driver's seat, like it was tiny person. His mother let out a disapproving noise but didn't comment, too tired and relieved to have him find a form of distraction.

In the light of day, the camera flash was not immediately noticeable. The helicopter escorts above had other priorities and the black SUVs fanned out in the front were busy securing the road. Tommy lowered the camera from his eye when the tarp suddenly pulled back to reveal a boxy head near the front of the trailer. The rolling balls in the rounded sockets rolled and lit up with a cruel relief.

Frozen, Tommy noticed the light gathering near the exposed part of the wreckage. Its wings, he realized with a start. It was a wing. He opened his mouth, "Mom...? Dad...?"

Air Raid raised himself on shaky legs, pulling free of the tarp and chains as the truck jackknifed under the sudden concentration of weight. Above, helicopters surged into a formation around the newly awakened Autobot, guns firing as the truck crashed into the civilian vehicle.

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A.N.: Hardly an auspicious beginning. Well? What do you think?