How I Met Your Mother Ch. 09

"Okay..." Andrew nodded, unsure where this was going.

"It's an interesting piece, supposedly a biographical expose charting the evolution of an organised crime group following the collapse of the old Soviet Union...but I can't progress further with securing the rights to it until I'm certain of a few facts." Andrew was looking more puzzled with each passing moment.

"And what does this have to do with me?" He eventually asked after what felt like an eternity.

"I want you to read it for me and try to ascertain if the author is just spit balling or if they really are onto something." Diana added. Andrew narrowed his eyes. "Clearwater was burned with that serial killer diary that turned out to be a hoax last year; if that happens again then heads will roll." She paused. "If the office rumour mongers are to be believed then it's probably going to be mine."

"I'm hardly an investigative journalist Diana." Andrew commented. Diana shrugged her shoulders and looked at him with an expression that conveyed her desire for his opinion on the manuscript. As he picked it up again. "You know, I get the distinct feeling that there's something more to this than meets the eye." Andrew said as he leaned back in the chair. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Just read it." She said, finishing the cigarette and stubbing it out on the edge of her desk. "When you've done that we'll talk."

****

Al-Rasheed Hotel,

Baghdad, Iraq

1978

The thing that seemed to captivate Yashin the most about the mysterious foreigner was her smell. The perfume she wore made her smell of vanilla and it reminded him of the first time he had entered one of the cities many tea rooms as a young man. The woman pushed her body up against him, holding him close to her; her lips pressing tightly against his.

He had met her three nights ago at the Embassy. The reception for the new Russian Ambassador was a prestigious affair as the new Islamic authorities in Iraq tried to impress upon them their desire to forge relations with their closest military super power. As an attaché at the Afghanistan Embassy, Yashin has been instructed to attend in order to ensure that their interests in the country's natural resources were being represented through their Russian allies.

Yashin was so lost in the moment that he barely perceived the faint prick of a needle pressed against his neck. After a few moments, he found that his legs had decided to cease working and he collapsed to the floor. As his vision began to cloud over, he saw his female visitor scuttle across to his telephone. She seemed to be saying something in a language he didn't fully understand as his world slipped into enforced darkness.

On the other end of the telephone line, the person receiving the phone call understood exactly what his colleague was saying to him in Russian.

"He's under -- we need to get him out of the city."

****

As his senses began to come to order, Yashin realised two things -- first of all he was cold. The second thing he was aware of was that there was a tremendous roaring sound assaulting his ears. That was when the third thing struck him -- he was blindfolded and shackled to what felt like a chair.

"Yashin? Can you hear me?" There was that voice -- that beautiful, sweet voice speaking to him again. "What are the Americans doing in Afghanistan?"

"Americans...they...they are talking to the Mujahideen..." his words were slurred slightly.

"And what is Amin doing?" The words dripped like honey. "What are his connections with the charges d'affair?"

"Not sure..." Yashin murmured, powerless to resist her questions. "He's close to the Pakistani's...and the Chinese...not fond of the Russians now...Ukbeh thinks he's planning...a purge of loyalists to the old guard still faithful to Moscow..." Yashin heard some movement behind him -- it sounded like a key was being inserted into a lock. Suddenly his hands were free -- as they moved towards his head someone grabbed them.

"No, not yet." The voice replied -- Yashin realised it was her hands holding his wrists and they were deceptively strong. "Listen to me closely Yashin; you're on a train and you're in great danger at the moment -- we need to get you out of here before you take the blindfold off." He felt her pull at his wrists, guiding him forwards. The vibrations he felt through his feet seemed to be intensifying as he felt a gust of fresh air hit him in the face. Yes, a train -- it made sense to him now.

"Yashin, I need you to keep walking, that's the only way you'll be safe." The voice said. "Keep walking until you reach the end of the path." Yashin did as she asked -- how could he refuse her after all -- shuffling along the metal beneath his feet. "That's it Yashin -- you're almost there." He kept walking until his last footfall encountered no resistance beneath it.

Must be a step, Yashin thought. He felt his body slowly topple forwards and he threw his hands out to stop himself. Eight thousand feet later, Yashin's hands and the rest of his body collided with the desert floor at the rate of thirty-two feet per second.

As the cargo door of the aircraft closed up behind Yashin, Svetlana Lebedova turned around to see Yuri Demetriov hanging onto the cargo straps for dear life, his face looking pale and sickly.

"So, it looks like the whole Afghan situation is more unstable than we thought?" Yuri said. Svetlana nodded.

"And it sounds like the Americans are trying to bait a trap for us." She added. "We need to get back to Moscow -- they need to know what's going on."

****

Wearing her dress uniform, Svetlana strode through the corridors of the headquarters of the KGB in Moscow, muttering under her breath. As she made her way towards one of the small offices located on the third floor of The Lubyanka she paused before one particular door.

Counting to ten and tapping her foot in unison, Svetlana reached out and gripped the door handle. Twisting it sharply, she entered and took stock of the figure sitting behind a desk. The sound of her heels striking the stone floor as she approached him told him all he needed to know about her current mood. As she looked at the figure of Innokenty Annenskij, dressed in his uniform as was the practice of all officers within the headquarters of the KGB, he could see the all-too familiar anger burning in her eyes.

"I've been reassigned to the London Embassy!" She spat at him, slamming the paperwork down on the desk. "Can you believe it? After all the hard work I've put into the Afghanistan operation..." She looked into Inno's eyes as she sat down in the chair across from him. "It also feels like someone is trying to keep us apart..."

"I read your report." Inno said, trying to deflect away her comment. "You think that the Americans are trying to stir up the hornets nest to draw us into a protracted conflict?"

"It's the only logical answer." Svetlana spat. "Think about it - if they draw us into a guerrilla conflict it could be as damaging for us as Vietnam was for them." She threw her hands up in the air. "I can't believe they can be so stubborn, so blind as to fall for such an obvious ruse. I'm so angry, I could..."

"Calm down." Inno interjected, trying to reassure her. "If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the only one being reassigned." He lifted up a piece of paper from the pile on his desk and handed it to her. As Svetlana read it, she looked at him.

"You're being posted as the official KGB liaison officer to the London Embassy as well?" He nodded quietly in response to her question. She steeled herself for the next part. "Do they know?"

"Only Brezinski knows." Inno replied quietly. "I suspect that this is his way of saying thank you for all your work on Afghanistan. We'll be away from the prying eyes of those who might frown upon our...fraternisation." He opened the bottom draw of his desk and pulled out two small glasses and a bottle of vodka. As he poured the clear liquid into each glass he gestured for Svetlana to sit down. "You know what some of the old guard are like about married couples working together, no matter how well we try to hide it. Now, why don't we have a drink and you can tell me all about what happened in Iraq, my little swallow..."

****

To any casual passer-by it was another wonderful sunny afternoon in the Nebraskan countryside. The blue sky was decorated with small fluffy white clouds and the trees were displaying the last vestiges of their green summer foliage before they began to turn to the more autumnal colours of reds and browns. Located within the ridge between a small series of geological protrusions caused by the shifting of the planet's tectonic plates however, was something far from natural.

The edifice was metal, yet also it was clearly intended to blend in with its surroundings as best as it could. The structure looked weather beaten and worn, resembling something that had been left outside for decades -- and yet to anyone who had wandered along the various hiking trails within the last few months it would have represented something new and distinctly alien to look at.

"STARSCREAM!"

The voice tore open the idyllic scene. The words -- bellowed in a commanding, almost forceful tone -- rang out around the small valley nestling in the Nebraskan countryside. The speaker -- a towering visage of grey metal whose personality was brimming with anger -- stood motionless, awaiting and expecting a response to be forthcoming.

His anticipation was not without its reward as the metal structure embedded into the side of the hill began to shift and shunt, the sound of cogs and gears engaging filled the air, allowing a small platform to appear and float slowly down. There were four figures standing upon it, weapons drawn and bristling with energy. He catalogued them in his mind; Astrotrain; Blitzwing; Thundercracker and Skywarp. As the platform came to a standstill on the soft soil, both sides appraised each other.

"How quickly you all forget, and now I find myself having to remind you of your position."

"Look Megatron," Thundercracker stepped forward, his hands raised in appeasement. "We don't want to hurt you..."

"You will stand down or you will be destroyed." Megatron interrupted him. "I shall make this offer to you once in recognition for your previous service to the Imperium. However, should you continue along your current path of treachery then you should expect no mercy from me." The four figures on the platform exchange glances, each making a decision in their own minds before they lowered their weapons.

"Strutless cowards!" The rebuke came from above them. Looking into the air, a shape recognisable as something similar to an F-22 Raptor streaked out of the bunker opening in the side of the Nebraska hillside, cutting a path through the clear blue sky. "You have drunk from the well of absolute power and yet you still cower before him like protoforms!" As the aircraft powered through the air, a compartment beneath it opened and a series of cluster bombs dropped, falling to the ground and tearing up the soil and rock with explosive force.

"Ultimately, Megatron is argonised steel and composite polymers, just like us." Starscream continued as he dropped a second payload onto his commanding officer, sending his companions scurrying away to avoid being caught up in the conflagration. "And just like us, he can be hurt." As the ground continued to buck and shake from his bombardment, a fizzing sound could be heard as blasts of purple energy filled the air. Despite their apparent accuracy, they seemed to be striking the air where Starscream had been rather than where he was. As the debris began to settle, Megatron was able to focus more on his aerial foe, striking Starscream's wing with one of the blasts from the powerful fusion cannon attached to his arm.

"Pah! You want to do it old school then?" Starscream muttered as his body began to twist and shift, changing from his aircraft mode to his more natural robotic image. "Fine -- have it your way. INCOMING!" He twisted in the air, descending at full speed and slamming straight into Megatron's chest, the force of the impact creating a crater around them. The two combatants got back to their feet, trading blows as well as verbal barbs.

"I thought we'd put all this behind us?" Megatron asked as he slammed his fist into Starscream's face, knocking him to the floor. "That these petty squabbles and power-plays were a thing of our tumultuous past?"

"I've just been waiting for the right opportunity." Starscream spat back as he tore a tree from the ground and drove it into Megatron's chest, sending him sprawling. "You know, I used to respect you; I looked up to you." Starscream said, gripping his foot as he lifted Megatron and began to spin him around. "But now I realise it was just fear I felt. Now all I see is stagnant leadership that's left us looking at pointless planets in dead end areas of the galaxy as we exist on scraps of Energon as part of a never-ending war of attrition." Picking up speed, he flung Megatron into the side of the hill before bringing to two cannons that adorned his arms to bear. The air sizzled again as Starscream opened fire on his leader, scorching the area as he unleashed everything he had at him.

"Oooh...that...felt soooo good!" He said, staring at the white-hot rock and smouldering plumes of smoke. The air was silent for a moment. "I've been waiting so long to do..."

"Have you quite finished?" The question in that unmistakeable gruff and blunt voice made Starscream's mouth drop open -- shortly followed by the image of Megatron stepping out of the smoke; seared, scarred but not beaten. "I have taken your best measure and, not for the first time, found it wanting." He strode forward. "You have broken protocol; risked exposure of our operation to the Autobots and the local life forms; disregarded the chain of command and worst of all, placed your own interests above that of the Imperium." In the background, the four other Decepticons looked at each other.

"You know what's coming next, right?" Skywarp asked Thundercracker, who simply nodded in reply. Megatron grabbed Starscream's shoulder with his left hand as he jammed the barrel of his weapon into his foe's chest.

"Now take your punishment..."

"But...I...no!" Starscream muttered as he locked optics with Megatron.

"...Like a Decepticon." The concentrated discharge from the fusion cannon ripped through Starscream's chest, blasting a sizeable hole in his torso. As he fell to the floor, Megatron addressed the remaining members of Starscream's unit. "Blitzwing; Astrotrain -- take the remains inside and see to them. If he survives, then I'll decide how I will punish him."

Standing in the tree line of a small hill less than few hundred yards away, four other figures were watching the melodrama play out. They observed the Decepticons carrying away the remains of their former unit commander, and then watched in silence as Megatron followed them, pausing before entering the bunker to look in their direction. He appraised them for a moment before muttering to himself.

"Time for phase two." It was a moment or two before any of the observers spoke as they watched the leader of their enemies enter the siege bunker.

"Are we just going to let them do this?" Sunstreaker asked. Prowl - the Autobot unit commander on Earth - looked over at him.

"Yes. Yes we are." He replied. "Unfortunately, Earth has just gone from being some backwater planet to the frontline in this war. We're not equipped to deal with a threat of this level."

"Phew." Sunstreaker breathed a selfish sigh of relief. Ratchet watched as the bunker doors sealed.

"You know, whatever Starscream found in there was enough to convince him he could take down Megatron on his own." The Autobot medical officer mused. Ironhide looked over at him and they shared a look. "We need backup here."

"No." Ironhide corrected him. "We need Prime."

Andrew sat on his chair at his desk in the cellar with a notepad and pencil in his hands, scribbling down notes as he poured through the contents of the manuscript Diana had given him three days beforehand. As he changed pages for the third time in less than an hour, a familiar figure popped her head around the corner of the stairs. She moved towards him with the grace of a dancer and dropped the comic book into his lap. As Andrew looked down, then to his left, he was confronted with the sight of his daughter's tear-filled eyes and quivering lower lip.

"Cassie, what's wrong?" He asked, immediately discarding his notepad and picking his daughter up.

"Daddy...does...does...Starscream...die?" She asked between sniffs. Andrew looked at Cassie, and then at the book she had dropped in his lap. Suddenly everything made sense. "Daddy...tell me...please...he doesn't..."

"Cassie, baby, look it's okay." He said, hugging his daughter as she started to cry. "Shhh, come on cupcake, it's alright. It's just a comic book." Shifting her in his arms, he got up from his chair and carried her out of the cellar. "Come on, don't cry..."

"But...but..." Cassie stammered as they made their way up two flights of stairs and ended up in a small box room on the second floor of the house. Andrew placed his daughter down on a beanbag in the room before turning his attention to the bookshelf.

"Okay, Infiltration...Escalation...there we go, Devastation!" He plucked a trade paperback from the bookshelf and joined his daughter on the soft, podgy seat. "Look, see, here's Starscream in a cryogenic regeneration chamber..." he flicked through the pages of the book. "...And here he is single-handedly taking on Sixshot and the Reapers..." Cassie's mood almost immediately brightened. "And here he is pointing out that it's the Decepticons versus the rest of the world at the end of book four. So, as you can see, Starscream doesn't die." Cassie wrapped her tiny arms around Andrew's waist and squeezed as tightly as possible.

"Thanks Dad." She chimed as Andrew got up and handed her the next book in the sequence, the appropriately titled Stormbringer. He paused for a moment before letting go of the book.

"Now, you need to read Stormbringer before you read Escalation, okay?" Cassie looked up at him and nodded. "None of it happens on Earth but it does feature Bludgeon, Jetfire, the Wreckers and the Chaos Trinity. And just remember -- it's only a comic book Cass." He knelt down to kiss the top of her head as she started to devour the next trade paperback in the series. Leaving his daughter in the room, Andrew heard the sound of Scott playing in the other room on the second floor. Smiling, he slowly went downstairs, eventually winding up in the kitchen where Leah was preparing lunch.

"Hey there." She said, without looking up from the chopping board. The sound of the knife in her hand striking the wooden surface as she sliced through the block of cheese reminded Andrew of a metronome.

"Why does our daughter have a crush on Starscream?" Andrew asked as he opened the fridge and removed a can of coke from inside. Leah looked over her shoulder.

"What?"

"I've just had Cassie on the verge of tears because Megatron blew a five foot hole in Starscream's torso at the end of Transformers: Infiltration, worrying about whether he was going to die or not."

"She must be going through her bad boy phase early." Leah mused. Andrew stopped what he was doing.

"Her what?" Leah reached for the loaf of bread to her right.