─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
[𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐]
𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 22,172, 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚔𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 -- 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑
𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 -- 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚟. -- 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚗 -- 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜 -- 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 -- 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚛 -- 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚢𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗
[𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜.]
𝚒 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍. 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑'𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 1970, 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚊. 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝚒 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍.
𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚗.
𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢.
𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍. 𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝.
"I hate to interrupt, Prime, but I've got an update on that Cybertronian Relic you need," Agent Fowler commed in, a photo reference of him popping up in the corner of the computer screen of common room.
Optimus was standing behind Ratchet, who was busy combining various formulas, typing away on the screen.
Optimus had been observing, but soon found that there wasn't much to observe. As smart and wise as he was, math and science wasn't his strong suit. So, he instead opened up his Daily Data Log, and began to distract himself.
Optimus quickly saved and exited his daily log - an internal data collector within his brain, normally used for containing extra memory cells in case of failure. However, Optimus uses it more like what humans would call, a diary.
The reason was simple yet complicated: Orion Pax started creating these logs after he became a candidate for Prime, for he knew that if he were to be chosen the transaction (the knowledge of the Primes) would fry his memory cells completely and replace them. Why waste this extra backup space when there'd be no way to recover his memories anyways? Might as well store some internal files there so that he would know something about himself if he were to be chosen and accepted. It felt odd, knowing that at some point you would not recall that last centuries of your existence.
Now, for Optimus Prime, it is more like a nervous habit, perhaps a way vent - a coping mechanism, if you will. When he discovered the files in his backup space, he had immediately dug through them and absorbed all that he could of his past life.
Then, during the war, it became something other than military tactics, strategies, missions, and death counts to busy himself with. It was relaxing and eased his mind for a short time.
"I am listening, Agent Fowler," Optimus answered the human, his optics dilating at the screen from over Ratchet's helm.
"After loading those magnetic frequencies you supplied us into our satellites, we know it's located somewhere in the city ancient Greece."
Optimus almost nodded in confirmation, as though he expected it to be there. "I see. Bulkhead and Miko discovered and unearthed an Energon Harvester there several months ago." He informed.
"For The Relic to be in that same area would not be unbelievable."
Agent Fowler didn't respond for several clicks, but then the audio box beside his photo became active once more as he spoke.
"Unfortunately, Prime, I cannot allow you to deploy yourself or any of the Autobots to Greece. That option is completely off the table. Orders from General Bryce."
Optimus' eyes betrayed his neutral expression. Stressed and confused.
"And why is that, Agent Fowler?"
Fowler huffed disbelievingly, "You do realize how much damage your wrecker did to those historical ruins? It was all over National Television because those buildings are that important to Earth! You're lucky there wasn't any footage or else we wouldn't had been able to cover it up as an Earthquake!"
Optimus wanted to defend Bulkhead, knowing the Decepticons were the only reason anything of human value was destroyed. But he held his tongue. There was no point in bantering over something as small as that. This Autobot-Human alliance needed to be strong in order to keep their trust and peacefully operate on their planet.
"From now on we will handle obtaining any foreign objects legally," Fowler sighed, took a breath, and then continued. "The only exception we can allow is if a ship or anything obviously not of Earth is involved. It's better we risk Governmental disputes rather than exposing aliens to the world. Copy that?"
Another pause, what Optimus imagined was the human nodding to himself.
"Unfortunately, Greece has a few laws that prohibit the U.S Government, or any other
Government, in fact, from disturbing their ancient cities. For historical reasons." He continued.
The Prime tried his best to understand.
"In order for us to retrieve The Relic we will be hosting a meeting at the Pentagon with Greece's Governmental leaders and Historians.
Fortunately, I know one famous ancient Greek Historian personally. I will be flying out the Greece to speak with her privately tomorrow, I'll be offline until I return. If we're able to convince her, then perhaps she can persuade her leaders. We might just be able to get your Relic, Prime."
The mech wasn't sure why he needed to know these small details until Fowler spoke up once more.
"You're presence at the meeting will be required, Optimus Prime. Three months from now, April 26th. 2pm on the dot. Don't be late."
"...Understood," Optimus said unsurely, glancing down at the blue timer, half hidden by the shiny red armor on his arm.
Either way, the most important objective was to obtain the information The Relic held before the Decepticons discovered its whereabouts.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"You came all the way here, to Greece, just to say hello?" I asked. "I find that very hard to believe, Agent Fowler. Especially with the amount the American Government pays." I said, scoffing.
Fowler swirled the glass in his hand lazily, slumped in the bar stool behind my kitchen counter unprofessionally. He huffed.
I dropped the remaining herbs into my own glass of Ouzo before bringing it to my lips and taking a long sip.
I get paid great, thank you very much," he countered my remark. "But yes, you're right. I'm not here to say hi. Sorry."
I held his gaze, my own expression relaxed and bored. I didn't like how casual he was acting in my home. Or the fact that he knew my adress in the first place, and just, showed up.
"Quite the opposite, actually, I have a business proposal for you, YN."
He had aged significantly since I last saw him. His cheekbones were more prominent, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and a purplish tint hanging with lose skin under his eyes.
I raised a brow, "go on."
He was very much out of shape compared his Army Ranger days and had even achieved a beer belly. I found it hard to be intimated.
"Before I continue, for legal reasons, I need you sign these papers."
"Why." It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"Because everything I'm about to tell you is Pentagon level classified. If we are to continue this conversation I need your signature."
"So I'm sworn to secretary?"
"Correct." He said plainly, pulling out a folder from the briefcase that laied on my counter.
The folder was grey, and it's cover had a logo that resembled a face made of blocky shapes.
I squinted at the logo skeptically as he flipped it open and pulled out several packets of paperwork.
He pushed one packet to me and grasped a pen from his jacket pocket, placing it beside the governmental documents. He leaned back, waiting.
I sipping the Ouzo again, "You haven't given me much reason to want to sign your super duper top secret Pentagon papers, Fowler."
He frowned, unimpressed with my response.
"You wouldn't have tracked me down, came all the way here, and be willing to spill your nasty government secrets if you didn't truly believe I'd be all hands in. Especially after the shit you pulled. So, tell me, what does the American Government want with some Historian from another country- what am I getting out of this arrangement?"
"Nothings getting passed you, huh?" He joked, adjusting himself in the stool until he was sitting properly. He leaned forward, holding his weight on the counter top with his elbows, hands claps together. The stool creaked under his weight. A grin spread on his face.
I waited for his elaboration, raising the glass to my lips for a third time. The morning sun was blaring through open windows of the kitchen, casting everything it touched in a golden glow. The marble counters glittered and the logo on the folder shimmered, metallic. I could hear the crashing waves on the beach clearly, and seagulls squaking. The crystal blue waters looked devine under the gentle touch of the sun.
"We need your help convincing your leaders into allowing the Pentagon to dig through ancient Greek ruins. We're looking for something quite specific. It is very important that we obtain it as soon as possible."
"I know it sounds obsured, but what we're looking for is very valuable and we need find and uncover it before some really bad people do first. And if they find it before us, those precious buildings will suffer far more than they did during that Earthquake."
I let his words float around my head before shifting my wight onto one leg. "Are you implying that the destruction the ancient city endured a few months back wasn't, in fact, an Earthquake?"
Fowler's brows shot up in supposed shock, like he had been caught by his mother with his hand in the cookie jar.
"That's not at all- I wasn't implying anything! There was an Earthquake!" He defended.
"Right, because the aftermath of Earthquakes results in giant fists, foot, and oddly shaped body imprints all over the place."
Fowler's face grew hot. "Are you going to sign those papers or not, because I can neither confirm nor deny those statements until you do."
I snorted, "Alright, Alright. I'll bite. So what is the breif summary, that does not include the classified info, of what exactly you want from me?"
He opened his mouth but I cut him off.
"Other than, of course, whispering in the ears of Greek Government Officials for the benefit of another country."
Fowler face twisted into annoyance, taking a moment to gather his words before answering. "You know those ruins better than anyone else alive, your government trusts you to handle the city carefully. If you can convince them to allow America to operate here temporarily, we will have you lead our exposition yourself. Full control, no catch."
My eyes widened. I lowered my glass to sit on the counter top.
"We can get you a permanent position in the Pentagon related to every and all historical finds on American and Greek soil if this all plays out accordingly. You'll have the final decision on everything."
"Like you said, I wouldn't have tracked you down and barged into your home if this wasn't something legit."
I stared at him, deciphering his tone of voice and expression, trying to determine the accuracy of his offer.
It seemed I would be taking more than I would be giving in this arrangement.
If this was anyone else proposing this, I might have told him to fuck off and get his American Swiss Cheese smelling ass out of my house.
I knew William. We became friends during my study abroad semester in collage.
However, halfway through the second quarter, William vanished. Police confirmed he had died.
But the ugly truth of it all, was that he joined a special devision of the United States Army, called Unit. E.
As he explained when he knocked on my front door. To which I responded with an alcoholic drink to calm my nerves because what the fuck dude.
I almost thought he was pranking me.
Maybe he had just dropped out and thought it'd be funny to tell people he was dead. But no, he had to be a Secret Agent with no identity or liable attachments.
Either way this situation was very not amusing.
This business proposal though? It was looking hella fine to me right now.
A job at the Pentagon, making all the final decisions on Historical monuments and artifacts on Greek and American soil?
Now that's an attractive position.
I reached for the pen, popping off the lid, and signed the front page. All while staring at his dead serious expression.
We were definitely going to have a talk about his funeral I skipped my midterm exams for in University. A long talk.
But first, I wanted to know everything.
Every single detail about this object they were looking for. About why it was so important, who else was looking for it. Why these people were so dangerous.
What answer I wasn't expecting, which made me spit out my Ouzo I was sipping all over my dead friend's face, was fucking alien robots and intergalactic wars.
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