Author Note:

The standard disclaimers apply. Do not own Transformers or any mention of companies or technologies. No I just get the joy of bending, blending and twisting all sorts of otherwise normal wiring engineering items together to create the Decepticons Parasites, which btw to the 'cons. These things could backfire so keep that in mind before offing any that might be able to stop them. 'Kay.

To everyone else, please R&R.


SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTHERN UNTIED STATES


Well there they went again. Those damn little flashing light chasing each other around his under carriage. How embarrassing was that. He almost wished that lead light would catch its own tail maybe then it would short out and stop. Better yet, maybe it would fry. Then there would be no putting that crap back together and on him tomorrow night.

He grumbled bouncing into another pothole as the lights set a chase again. "This is a job more suited for Jazz or Bumble Bee. What do the humans get from this humiliating display?"

Epps flashed Lennox a cheeky grin.

"Told you Ironhide in this part the world trucks are the movers and shakers. Low slung little fancy sports cars don't cut it down here in the south. In case you haven't notice there are ruts so deep we lost Jazz all the way up to his hood. 'Sides they use trucks to haul everything from dogs to-"

Ironhides voice synthesizer cut Epps short of giving him the lowdown of exactly what all they did haul around in trucks. Guns and girls were one thing but when he'd gone on to the livestock. Goats to be exact yesterday Ironhide had heard enough.

Three weeks 5 hours and 36 minutes later into this nightly ritual rolling through the streets, Ironhide was finally stolen. That is just what they wanted. Now what he just wanted was to lose those tacky little running lights and those two fuzzy squares tied to his rearview mirror.

Dice, Lennox had called it. When he did get out of this mess he was going to take those fuzzy squares on a string and wrap it around Brains neck. Followed by shoving those irritating little chase light straight up Jazz's-. Before he could mentally finish plotting where he was going to stick those lights, his dopey thief ground his gears so hard he thought for certain he was about to start sputtering up curls of shaved metal. What in the name of primus had he let himself get talked into? All in the line of duty his taillights.