First of all, many apologies for the wait for chapter 4, being made redundant and job hunting have a tendency to focus the mind on real life. Many thanks for the reviews so far, keep them coming. If any of you would like an idea of what Sideswipe in this universe might look like I commissioned a piece from Sara Milton (you can find this work on deviantART, just look up G1 Sideswipe concept). Another muchos grassy-arse to my proof-reader who has and is providing valuable input on the inevitable vehicle chases. Again reviews appreciated and I promise more screen time to established characters next chapter.
Cheers,
HTGT
11/09/2012 – Edited thanks to an eagle-eyed spot by I'm Yu that managed to sneak past both myself and my proof-reader.
03/03/2015 – Sideswipe now an Aventador SV (really does fit the whole G1/Bayverse crossover).
++!++!++!++!++!++
Sideswipe and Ratchet emerged from the medical bay, the former shifting uncomfortably from wheel to wheel and wincing every few steps. For some reason the CMO looked strangely disappointed as they re-joined the other Autobots.
"Was the sump-probe absolutely fraggin' necessary?" The former gladiator complained as he gingerly approached the others.
"I had to be absolutely sure you were not an imposter." Ratchet retorted with a snort, "Which you are not…sadly."
Elita to her credit was trying her best to keep a smirk off her face, "You should have seen the size of the dipstick he used Sideswipe." She remarked, intimating with her hands the length and girth of the instrument involved, "You took it like a mech." She finished patting his shoulder comfortingly.
"Can I 'ave my treat now mum?" Sideswipe sniffled back mockingly like an overgrown youngling.
Behind the pair a hazmat suited figure of Nurse Darby emerged, heading towards the decontamination showers. Although her face was obscured by the hood, her body posture suggested that she'd just experienced something that would take a double-dose of brain-bleach and an angle grinder to help her forget. In a pinch however, several large rum and cokes would have to suffice. Despite everyone's best efforts, she had managed to ascertain what her errant son had been up to with almost contemptuous ease and had given him a dressing down, that in Elita's mind would've put the fear of Primus in Megatron himself.
"Now that your identities have been verified your first priority is to acquire an Earth-based alt-mode. Then Elita we must discuss Autobot chain of command going forward." Optimus intoned with a hint of pride. His sparkmate had insisted on a full medical examination despite the fact he already knew through their bond that she was not an imposter. It was one of the many reasons why he loved and valued her, she carte blanche refused to have the soldiers under her charge undergo anything she wouldn't be prepared to do herself.
"I have already drawn up a shortlist based on mass, size and protoform mechanics." Ratchet stated somewhat sheepishly, "However as much as it pains me to say so, I may need some human input on the finer aesthetic criteria."
"Can I believe what I'm hearin', the all-knowin' Ratchet admittin' he needs assistance?" Sideswipe jibed with an air of incredulity, relishing the opportunity for revenge however limited.
"Nurse Darby, please remind me to have the Prime sized dipstick on standby the next time Sideswipe has a routine medical." Ratchet replied ominously as a shudder went through her at the implication.
"I honestly can say that's the first time I've ever been glad to see a Vehicon." Jack interrupted suddenly, allowing his mother to at least get cleaned up without potentially any further psychological trauma.
"Soundwave is efficient, if somewhat predictable." Elita replied somewhat cryptically. Jack suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that she'd known all along that the Decepticons would show, but had conveniently omitted to mention that fact.
In another part of the outpost, a bone-tired and strung-out Agent Fowler was trying to piece together Amber's story. She had spent the first few minutes violently throwing-up to the point of doing a passable impression of James Brown in the dry-heaving stage.
"Look Agent Fowler, I don't know how many times I have to repeat the same story. As far as I knew I was working on an unknown possible protolanguage, I had no idea that Director Bishop had Blofeld syndrome or that I would be coming into contact with giant fucking alien robots! Look I know where this is going, if you're going to throw me in a deep, dark hole can it at least have Internet and a comfy bed. I really, really need to sleep."
Fowler blinked a few times as he realised that they'd been at completely crossed purposes for the last few minutes. "I didn't say that I didn't believe you Dr. McLaren." He stated bluntly, "We just need to get the facts straight, for your own safety if nothing else. I'm going to recommend that we take you into protective custody; you've got the lowdown on one of M.E.C.H.'s projects which makes you valuable. Secondly you've almost managed to decode an alien language single-handedly, that makes you an asset."
"There's more Agent Fowler." Amber sighed, "I know Leland Bishop personally, he and my father were close friends going way back. There's a chance he could be at risk too."
"What in the name of James K. Polk's gallstone have I done to deserve this?" Fowler grumbled under his breath as he mulled over his next course of action. Something was nagging in the back of his brain, the woman was familiar but in his sleep-deprived state he just couldn't place her.
++!++!++!++!++!++
"I trust you have an explanation for your complete and abject failure." On board the Nemesis a visibly quivering silver mech was doing his level best to hide behind his superior; a black and white scout who was considerably better at meeting Megatron's psychotic glare.
"We were ambushed my lord!" The silver one snivelled, "We were outnumbered, outgunned!"
"Silence wretch!" Megatron then addressed his compatriot directly, "I left you in command of the outpost Barricade, I also trusted you not only with an energon supply-chain but with the removal of valuable artefacts." He leant towards the smaller Decepticon, "I'm awaiting your justification Barricade and for the sake of your continued existence it had better be good."
Barricade forced himself to meet Megatron's red-eyed stare, "My mistake was leaving Sideways in charge of load-out my liege. We were not outnumbered or outgunned, but outclassed. I have provided Soundwave with all the intel we managed to salvage from the altercation."
The silent spymaster took this as his cue to replay the footage obtained from the scout. It showed feeds from two perspectives, Elita calmly striding her way towards one of the shuttle bays, methodically and precisely slaying any hapless drone that crossed her path. By way of comparison Sideswipe was running interference, pulling as many of the Decepticon forces away from their objective into another hangar which was rapidly becoming a mechanical abattoir.
Megatron observed the on-screen carnage with a degree of grudging admiration, "The Prime's sparkmate and her pit bull, it appears you may have just earned clemency Barricade, for the time being at least. Retrieve the shuttle and its contents and bring her to me."
"Understood my liege." The scout turned smartly and left the command deck, dragging a protesting Sideways with him.
"Do you believe they stand a chance my lord?" Dreadwing rumbled after they had left.
"Barricade is one of my best scouts and if they fail, then they will stand as examples to other Decepticons."
++!++!++!++!++!++
"So, mind telling me what Jack was doing in your quarters last night?" Having finally got out of the decontamination shower, June had managed to corner Arcee. She'd been somewhat elusive since the mission and the canny nurse was certain she was avoiding her on purpose.
Arcee blinked a couple of the times at her rather pointed question, deciding finally to give her a somewhat doctored version of the truth. "Sorry June he crashed out on my berth, didn't have the heart to wake him." It was slick, practised, rehearsed and perhaps just a little too glib.
"Right." June drew out the word with the flat expression that implied she didn't believe a word of it. "What were you up to that could've possibly gotten him so exhausted?" she probed impishly.
"June, nothing happened!" Arcee bristled, back struts twitching in irritation before she strode off to prevent her from seeing the tell-tale bluing of her face.
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Ratchet commented wryly from his usual position.
"I'd be inclined to agree Doctor." June admitted with a cheeky smile, "I'll get the truth out of them one way or the other."
"I have no doubt you will." The medibot chuckled knowing full well how stubborn the nurse could be over certain things.
++!++!++!++!++!++
Agent Fowler escorted Amber back into the main section of the base leaving her to finally succumb to mercifully dreamless sleep. Jack had propped himself in one of the few available chairs after a shower and getting enough sleep to scrub off the worst of his fatigue.
"How is she?" He asked, addressing both his mother and agent.
"Apart from shock and fatigue, not doing too badly." June replied, "Rest and a decent meal will help."
"You did well Jack." Fowler clapped the boys shoulder appreciatively, "I need to go and sort-out the clean-up crew and track down pops. There goes my weekend! The only thing I've got left to look forward to is an ulcer and divorce if I'm lucky!" He complained bitterly before gesturing to the sleeping scientist. "She stays here until further notice, understood?"
After the agent was safely out of earshot, Optimus gathered the present Autobots. "Ratchet prepare the GroundBridge for immediate departure, we must recover anything that may have been reverse-engineered from Cybertronian technology. I for one am most concerned about the pulse weapon that M.E.C.H. has developed."
"Too fraggin' right Optimus! Felt worse than an 8-pack of super-hi-grade and an aft-kicking!" Sideswipe added vehemently.
++!++!++!++!++!++
A few hours later in a quiet suburb of Henderson Nevada, an unremarkable panel van bearing the logo of Nevada Auto-parts Deliveries and Supplies pulled up alongside an equally non-descript single-storied house. Parked outside was an AMC Gremlin, which at one stage in its life had been a vibrant bronze but had long-since faded to a shade commonly known as dysentery brown. Various panels and bumpers were held on by a combination of duct-tape, zip ties and probable divine intervention.
A young man exited from the passenger side sliding door, package in hand, making his way toward the entrance. He was somewhat surprised to find the front door unlocked but cautiously made his way inside. Had the older man inside the van been concentrating more on the house rather than on his lunch, he would've briefly heard the sounds of a scuffle before silence reigned once more.
Finishing his cheeseburger with a belch, he lobbed the empty packaging on the dashboard then proceeded to chug his extra-large soda with gusto. Several minutes later he finally decided to check on his errant companion and was somewhat perturbed to find him slumped unconscious in the bathroom, with what looked very suspiciously like a broken nose.
++!++!++!++!++!++
"Goddammit June, get the hell out of my way!" Amber glared daggers at the older woman who so far had steadfastly refused to let her leave the base. The rest of the Autobots besides Optimus and Ratchet had bridged aboard the acquired Decepticon shuttle with their respective charges in tow, eager to help the new arrivals with their shopping expedition.
"Sorry, Fowler's orders, we need to keep you here until we can locate your father and get him to safety. Please try to relax; we're doing everything we can." June met the scientist's gaze levelly, her years of training enabling her to be pleasant, non-threatening yet assertive.
"You don't understand, dad's ex-Agency, if he feels like he's being watched or if M.E.C.H. makes a move, he'll just go to ground. I'm the best chance you have of finding him!" Amber pleaded with her, "Look if I can't leave then at least let me get a message to him securely."
"Agent Fowler is not going to be pleased." Ratchet interjected with a wicked gleam in his optics, already imagining the response. "Best we tell him sooner rather than later."
"I concur old friend; Agent Fowler would wish to know this information, even if we may never hear the end of it." Optimus added dryly. "Ratchet, open a secure communications channel with The Pentagon."
++!++!++!++!++!++
The diner was packed with the usual crowd, pensioners, workmen and even the occasional tourist who'd taken the wrong turning or was looking to get away from Vegas for something a little quieter. A solitary middle-aged man in a grey windcheater sat in one corner, seemingly engrossed in the morning paper and coffee. A more shrewd observer would've noted that he'd positioned himself to view all possible entrances and exits. Every so often he would check his phone before returning to the paper. Finally his patience was rewarded when his phone started to vibrate, leaving enough change behind to cover the cheque he moved swiftly to a more secluded part of the diner.
"Dad it's me." A worried female voice blurted as soon as he picked up.
"Amber I need you to stay focused," he replied, voice low and calm, "just answer my questions with as much detail as you can. Are you currently safe?"
"I'm unharmed and in protective Federal custody at an undisclosable location." She replied, trying to reassure her father without accidentally giving away too much information.
"Six hours ago, two armed operatives broke into my office and attempted to abduct me. They carried no ID and were highly trained; I assume this is connected to the reason why our home was likewise broken into and why you're in custody?"
"Yes they're a terrorist organisation connected to the Institute that I worked for." Amber replied, trying to keep her voice level. "That'll teach you to bunk-down at work instead of coming home for the evening."
The older man chuckled slightly, "Well at least it's not drugs or vice I suppose. It appears from the echo at your end that you're on a speaker-phone?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." She replied. Comparing the Autobot communication link to a speaker-phone was like comparing a 10-speed to a superbike. Superficially both have a similar function, except one is an order of magnitude more complex than the other.
"To whoever has my daughter in custody, you have already endangered her life by sending Agency members to our residence earlier today. The operation in my professional opinion was crass and may well have alerted the enemy to the Agency's presence. As a sign of good faith I expect you to meet me at a location of my choosing in ninety minutes, I will send you the details. In the meantime Amber, I'm going to have another coffee and they tell me the cherry pie here is excellent. I love you, stay safe."
"Love you too dad." Amber replied.
++!++!++!++!++!++
"Okay ladies first!" Miko cast a critical eye over the video feed from a cloaked reconnaissance drone as it scoured several Las Vegas prestige vehicle dealerships. Two other screens provided readouts of the Elita's and Sideswipe's protoforms along with vehicle identification. Ratchet had delegated the job of ensuring a good match to Raf and the teenager was taking his job very seriously.
"Bentley Continental GT, excellent protoform compatibility according to Ratchet's application." Raf suggested.
"Yeah, but it's butt-ugly and it'd make Elita look well kinda chunky." Miko shot back, trying her best to imitate a Sumo wrestler. "We need feminine curves Raf, next contender!"
"Move on please Rafael, that particular specimen is somewhat vulgar." Elita agreed, looking at her projected image with a frown.
"Maserati GranTurismo MC Stradale, curves in all the right places, Italian, stylish, sexy…" Miko batted her eyelashes in a coquettish fashion.
"…and also Knock Out's choice of alt-mode." Jack interjected dead-pan. Elita looked horrified whilst Sideswipe had an expression of unholy glee as he squirreled away that particular nugget of information.
"Sweet Primus no! Next choice for the sake of everyone's sanity!" Elita exclaimed, "Oh and Sideswipe don't go getting any ideas, this is no time and place for vendettas!"
"Wouldn't dream of it Elita." Sideswipe rolled his optics, attempted to look innocent and failed miserably.
"Right next suggestion." Miko was intently watching the feed when something caught her eye, "Raf get the drone to fly over there."
"Oh my, I think we may have found a winner." Elita breathed as she examined the choice in question, "Do you think Optimus would approve?" She asked the assembled crowd with a sly smile.
"I think Optimus would pop a gasket if you chose that." Bulkhead slurred somewhat bluntly, Bumblebee beeping in agreement with a concerned glance at his comrade. Although well on the road to recovery, he still required periodic medication which left him somewhat woozy.
Arcee smirked at the taller femme, "Do it Elita that is very, very you."
"Okay that's one down and one to go!" Miko crowed. "Now it's Mr Stabby McWheelfeet's turn, anything in particular you're looking for?"
Sideswipe looked thoughtful for a moment, "Fast, preferably red, not too small and angles." He concluded with a grin at the teen.
"You forgot loud and flashy." Arcee quipped to the crimson mech's chagrin.
"Fast, angles, loud and flashy. Piece…of…cake!" Miko stated triumphantly as the drone went on another sweep.
++!++!++!++!++!++
A beep on Amber's phone indicated that she had an SMS. She looked at the series of numbers and appeared deep in thought for a moment.
"Why doesn't he just tell us where to meet him, without any means of deciphering these numbers are meaningless?" Ratchet snapped.
"Except he already gave us two hints." Amber replied smugly, "The first is that he's in or around a diner. Knowing what dad's like he wouldn't have taken Old Faithless as it's too noticeable, which means he must be still in the Las Vegas or Henderson area."
"There must be hundreds of diners in that area, where then do you suggest we start?" The curmudgeonly Autobot fired back, hoping to get one over on the human.
"Simple. Divide or multiply these numbers by 355 over 113, they're probably coordinates of some description." She pulled out the pad that she had been given in the M.E.C.H. base and began tapping away. "That fraction is the best approximation of Pi to six decimal places. Dad would always say that if he had to give us something in code for any reason, the key would be in the penultimate sentence. Notice how his pauses were slightly longer, just to spell it out?"
Ratchet nodded in understanding as he began feeding in the numbers and variables into the outpost's mainframe, then parsing the results as known coordinate types. "I think it would be better if I did the number crunching from here on in." He stated shortly. After several tense moments a reference was obtained in the Henderson area.
"Let's see what that is on the map. Oh look a diner; what would you do without me boys?" Amber looked at the two Autobots with a somewhat self-satisfied grin.
Optimus turned to his Chief Medical Officer before he could engage in any more verbal brinkmanship. "Have we had a response from Agent Fowler?"
"It appears he is in a meeting that may last quite some time." Ratchet replied with a shrug.
"As loath as I am to go against his wishes, it appears the only chance to get Amber's father to safety is to do as he suggests. Amber, you are aware that this may place you in harm's way once more?" Optimus looked at the scientist, who now appeared somewhat more nervous.
"I am, but it's my fault he's in this situation and this is the quickest way to get him out of it." She replied, sounding a lot more confident than she actually felt.
Optimus opened a secure channel to the shuttle, "Elita have you and Sideswipe picked appropriate Earth-based vehicle modes?"
"Impeccable timing Optimus, we've just finished in fact and I can't wait to show mine off." Elita replied somewhat flirtatiously with a throaty chuckle. Behind him both Ratchet and June struggled to keep their professional demeanours intact as the Prime looked for an instant like someone had just sucker-punched him.
++!++!++!++!++!++
So far the operation had been relatively easy, Soundwave had intercepted chatter on a known M.E.C.H. frequency regarding a female human who had been linked to Sideswipe and therefore to the stolen shuttle. Barricade had assumed the form of a Saleen Mustang patrol car after surreptitiously disposing of both car and officer in the desert. Police and Federal authority frequencies had likewise been alight with talk of one of said female's creators evading CIA capture. With the mute spymaster's skill, it had only taken one errant SMS for him to be traced to one of the business areas of the city.
Sideways and a team of drones had been patrolling for a while, hoping that the human male would show himself. In Barricade's mind the plan was simple, use the pair of disgusting organics as a bargaining tool for the return of the shuttle. Optimus would not allow the wretched things to come to harm so would be forced to acquiesce, whether Elita would be thrown in to the bargain would be another matter entirely. He took up position in a secluded driveway overlooking a typical suburban house, allowing his underling to do the legwork as he planned his next course of action.
++!++!++!++!++!++
"I feel so self-conscious!" Amber tried to shrink into the bucket seat as a crimson and black Lamborghini Aventador SV cruised serenely down a Henderson boulevard. She couldn't scoot down too far as she had to maintain the pretence of driving. "In case you haven't forgotten, how the hell am I going to explain this to dad?" She asked heatedly.
"Government contracting pays well, lottery win, rich boyfriend, running drugs or arms, high-class escort services…take yer pick." Sideswipe shot back with a laugh, deliberately blipping his engine to turn more heads. "Relax sweetspark I'm sure yer'll come up with somethin'." They drove in silence for a while before he piped up.
"Seriously though Amber this is a bad idea, a really bad idea. The first place the 'Cons or M.E.C.H. would look for yer would be at home." Sideswipe's statement was devoid of his usual devilish mirth.
"Alright smart-aft." Amber replied, "Exactly how would you know that?"
"It'd be the first place I'd look if I were huntin' yer down." Amber managed to repress a shudder at the thought of being in the crimson Autobot's sights. "If yer need clothes and a shower, we hit the mall and find a motel. It's a lot fraggin' safer." Sideswipe for once hoped that human females shared the proclivity for procurement like their Cybertronian counterparts.
"Err…slight problem with that, my cards are in my bag which is in the house." Amber admitted somewhat guiltily.
"Cash?" Sideswipe asked with forced hope.
"With my cards." Amber felt herself go as red as Sideswipe's paintwork as they pulled into the quiet residential area, the venomous snarl from the exhaust earning them dirty looks from some of the more elderly residents. If it were possible for a Lamborghini to radiate the aura of disgruntled menace, Sideswipe was managing it with aplomb.
"My place is third on the…ah crap!" In front of her home were several patrol vehicles as well as a delivery van, the whole building had been cordoned off. She swallowed nervously as the panel van opened and two suited men came out. The first was in early middle-age with something of a paunch the other younger, sporting a pair of Government Issue sunglasses and tape across his nose.
"Right. We've got three options, foot to the floor and get the frag out of Dodge, blag it or the good old standard fallback plan." Sideswipe growled, suddenly having a major failure in his humour subroutines. "Incidentally as much as I hate sayin' I told you so, but I told you so!"
"Dare I ask what the standard fallback plan is?" Amber gulped, already picturing scenes of unmitigated carnage, wanton destruction and dismembered corpses decorating the street lights like bunting.
"You've already seen it sweetspark." Sideswipe retorted, confirming her worst fears.
"Running would only make us look suspicious; we're going for option two." Amber said through gritted teeth, hoping that her acting skills were up to muster. "At least the house is secure for now, but a shower and clean clothes would be so nice." She pleaded with the aggravated Autobot.
The older of the two agents motioned for her to stop and Sideswipe obediently pulled up to the curb, he appeared to be a touch perplexed as the window rolled down.
"Dr McLaren I'm surprised to see you here, I was under the impression that you were at a safe house?" Although polite, she could see that he was deeply suspicious of her presence.
"Sorry Agent..." She replied, waiting for the man to supply at least his name.
"Manfredi and this is Agent Johnson." He gestured to the younger man, who attempted a professional smile whilst looking visibly in pain. "You wouldn't happen to know where your father might be at this present time? Unfortunately when my colleague went to speak with him, there was a slight..." He trailed off, as the younger agent favoured him with a drop-dead look.
"Misunderstanding." Johnson finished flatly.
It took all of Amber's willpower not to snigger at the younger agent's appearance, though she experienced a small measure of concern that her companion might accidentally blow their cover. Judging by the fact that Johnson was breathing through his mouth, he'd managed to sustain a broken nose and the bruising was evident despite trying to hide it with the sunglasses.
"Sorry Agent Manfredi, there's things he wouldn't even tell Mom or me for that matter. Look I know I shouldn't be here but I've been held since this morning without even a shower or a change of clothes." She pouted at the agents, "Just let me get some things and I'll be out of your way, Special Agent Fowler doesn't need to know."
"Oh man, if Fowler gets wind of this he'll have our balls as paperweights!" Johnson groaned, "CSI has already been and gone, we should be okay if we keep this on the down low."
"I'll make sure HPD doesn't blow our little secret." Manfredi sighed as he ambled towards the cordon.
"Make it quick Dr." The younger agent warned. "Nice ride by the way."
"Certainly beats that pile of crap!" She replied with relief, opening the scissor door and gesturing at the mouldering AMC in the driveway.
++!++!++!++!++!++
"Autobots, the operation to secure Dr Bryan McLaren will require finesse to execute." Back at the outpost, Optimus allowed his words to sink in to the assembled troops over the comm-link. "The zone of engagement is in a highly populated urban area, we cannot afford any collateral damage or innocent casualties. Sadly Bulkhead, Ratchet informs me that due to your continued rehabilitation you are still not cleared for front-line duty yet." He was about to continue when an urgent transmission came through on the main console.
"Optimus got a riddle for yer." The gravelly voice of Sideswipe was unmistakable, "What's black and white and 'Con all over?"
Optimus didn't even pause before providing an answer, "Barricade. Sideswipe are you absolutely sure that you have a positive identification?"
"He's been up my aft for the last 'alf a mile. If I wanted another sump-probe I would've asked the good Doctor." The gladiator replied mirthlessly.
"Sideswipe, your primary objective is ensuring Amber's continued physical wellbeing by any means necessary." Optimus ordered succinctly. "Lose your tail and ensure that she arrives unharmed at her rendezvous."
"Optimus, you do remember that discussion I had with you regarding Sideswipe's interpretation of orders?" Elita's concerned tone highlighting the magnitude of the Prime's faux-pas. Both the outpost and the shuttle listened with mounting horror to the howl of Sideswipe's engine and Amber's increasingly shrill and panicked voice.
"Sideswipe, whatthehelldoyouthinkyou'redoing?! OhGod…Sideswipethat'saredlight!" Amber's shriek was replaced by a scream of pure primal terror and the unmistakeable screech of tyres breaking traction in a spectacular fashion.
"Autobots, roll-out!" Optimus sighed from behind his own hand, "Elita I'm entrusting you with the tactical success of this mission. Sadly I face the more dangerous task of preparing damage limitation for Agent Fowler."
++!++!++!++!++!++
Henderson was known for being a quiet community on the outskirts of Vegas, popular amongst families and retirees in Nevada. One such pensioner was a Mrs R. Deagle a hatchet-faced harridan with the overall demeanour of a crack-addled pit bull. The scourge of Henderson road users, thanks to her cast-iron belief that she alone had divine right to the whole of the street, when she was at the helm of her blue mobility scooter. Currently, she was trundling along at the heady speed of five miles per hour with an expression of grim satisfaction. Behind her, was a rapidly expanding tailback of irate drivers, unable to pass without slamming into oncoming traffic thus left fuming impotently.
Cheerfully ignoring the stop sign, she turned right at the intersection sending a hapless Fed-Ex driver careening into a lamp-post in his frantic effort to avoid her.
"Watch where you're going you crazy bitch!" The somewhat concussed driver managed to yell after her, earning him the finger in the process.
She allowed herself a small cackle of satisfaction before the crimson blur rocketed past. Sideswipe grabbed another gear, spitting excess energon and flames from his exhaust before howling off at triple digit speeds. Cursing the young woman behind the wheel for her recklessness, Mrs Deagle was suddenly aware that her legs were becoming uncomfortably damp and warm. Glancing down in rising horror, she realised that her favourite blanket had become a very effective wick after being saturated with flaming fuel.
In her panic, her driving became even more erratic. "Someone call 911!" She screeched, unaware just how quickly karma can work. Moments later, the patrol car slammed into the back of the scooter at considerable velocity, its bull-bar hooking under the rear seat and thus turning her into a shrill and unwilling hood ornament.
"Crazy fragging organic!" Barricade swore under his breath. Having used his assumed identity, he had hoodwinked the HPD to join the pursuit. However, having a screaming, partially char-broiled organic on his hood would be something of a liability to his current disguise. Assessing his options he realised he needed to get rid of his unwanted passenger with haste.
With no other option he decided to floor it and catch-up to the fleeing Lamborghini, which in the pre rush-hour traffic was unable to exploit all of his horsepower. Pulling alongside the crimson Autobot, Mrs Deagle and Amber shared a brief moment of empathy before Sideswipe spied a miniscule opening and gunned it.
"You'll never fit through there!" Amber whimpered, abandoning all pretence at driving and adopting a foetal position. With preternatural skill, the gladiator shot through the gap with millimetres to spare, leaving Barricade unable to match the manoeuvre.
"Transportation's a precise business sweetspark." Sideswipe replied, the smug grin apparent in his tone.
Barricade snarled in frustration, the elderly meat-sack was now a positive pain in the aft, which needed to be ditched. Spying road workers ahead, his physics co-processor performed a series of deft calculations. Accelerating towards the earthworks, he popped his hood at the vital moment then watched with sadistic glee at the result.
The workers, hearing the approaching screech, turned to see the infamous Mrs Deagle her lap ablaze in blue flames, hurtling towards them. Diving for cover, the speeding mobility scooter shot past them and launched itself off the earthen ramp. Barricade's calculations proved to be pinpoint accurate as the blazing vehicle sailed through the air, its maiden and final flight terminating in a billboard advertising The Blue Angels aerial display team.
Barricade span his wheels as he returned to the chase, thinking to himself that this new sport might well catch on amongst the Vehicons.
++!++!++!++!++!++
Elita watched the events unfolding on screen with a grim-set expression, between Sideswipe's literal interpretation of Optimus' command and Barricade's intervention, matters were rapidly cascading like a nuclear reaction. Looking at the swarm of patrol cars that were converging on Sideswipe's position, she realised for everyone's safety that she needed to somehow route the chase onto one of the main freeways. Once there, his superior speed and skill would allow him to shake his pursuers. If not, then the body count would no doubt rise exponentially.
