I honestly keep forgetting that Hot Rod's the taller one between the two. He's a good three inches over Deadlock. XD

Springer decided he wanted to be more involved. And he's being overprotective. Heh.


Chapter 9

"There's a what?" Hot Rod asked, shoving a mouthful of reheated macaroni and cheese in his mouth. Uncle Magnus and his father had already gone to bed, leaving Springer and Hot Rod at the kitchen counter alone. The conversation hadn't gone where Hot Rod expected it to. Hot Rod swallowed his bite of food, hoping Springer didn't notice his twitch. "And you're going to patrol my school?"

"One of the students at your school is dealing drugs," Springer said, leaning on the counter as he watched Hot Rod eat. His own empty dish was long washed and back in the cupboard. "And yes, I'll be stopping by to do some day patrols."

"You know who it is?" Hot Rod asked, even as the name "Swindle" popped into his head. He bit the edge of his fork, Blurr's face and blood shot eyes coming to the front of his mind.

"Not yet," Springer said. He glanced at Hot Rod and tapped his fingers on the edge of his arm. "Have you heard anything?"

Yes, Hot Rod thought to himself, distracting his mouth with another bite of macaroni. Blurr's face kept him from answering honestly. Hot Rod shook his head. "No."

Springer stared at Hot Rod for a long time, watching his shoulders and the softness of the answer. He frowned and his shoulders dropped. Springer knew that Hot Rod lied to him. Every inch of Springer's face and eyes said he was disappointed and it made Hot Rod's stomach hurt in a way that the bruises forming under his ribs couldn't.

But Springer didn't push it.

Hot Rod turned the noodles over in his plate when Springer reached over to ruffle his hair. His surrogate big brother kissed the top of Hot Rod's head and rounded the bar counter to grab his coat.

Springer picked it up, looking over at Hot Rod. His smile was sad, but still there. Offering a second chance. "Let me know if you do hear anything, okay?"

"Kay," Hot Rod said, waving as Springer let himself out the front door.

Hot Rod shoved his dinner away and leaned on the counter. He held his head and sucked in a breath, ignoring the way his chest still ached after his fake fight. Lying to Springer hurt far worse than any punch from Deadlock. And Springer knew that he'd lied. Hot Rod bit his lip.

He really needed to warn Blurr before Springer found Swindle and his friend got dragged down with him.


It'd be easier to warn Blurr if he were actually at school.

Hot Rod shoved his text books in his backpack with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder. He really hoped that Blurr was okay wherever he was and not doing something stupid. Hot Rod had half a mind to go over to his house to check, but missing one day of school wasn't quite serious enough.

Blurr was still mad at him.

As if Hot Rod's day couldn't get any better, Springer had also shown up sometime during the day in plain clothes and walked around the halls to remind himself of the High School layout. He'd caught Hot Rod and gave him a small wave before moving on. Maybe it was a good thing Blurr wasn't there today. If Springer caught him, there's no way he wouldn't have been able to tell Blurr was hopped up on Speed Boosters.

Hot Rod had seen Swindle, though.

He had half a mind to stomp over there and tell him to stop selling stuff to Blurr and get his act together before he was thrown in Juvie. But Swindle also happened to have his older brother Vortex with him, who also happened to be a senior and could beat Hot Rod in a fight no problem. And there'd be a fight if Hot Rod went over there.

And there was no way Hot Rod was getting into a fight with the drug dealer he "didn't know about" when Springer was still walking around his school.

Hot Rod stomped out of the building after the last bell, rubbing both of his palms into his eyes. This was getting way over his head.

Maybe he really should just tell Springer what was going on. The older officer was practically family. Maybe he'd help Blurr get a break or something and focus solely on Swindle.

Or Springer would make it a big deal, because as cool as he was and as often as he pushed the rules himself, Springer could also be worse about the rules than Ultra Magnus when it suited him. But then again, maybe he'd understand that Blurr needed help more than to be punished. Springer would understand. Or he wouldn't.

And did any of it even matter when Blurr was still so angry Hot Rod flushed his bag of pills that he wasn't speaking to him and was missing from school?

Hot Rod groaned, digging his palms harder into his eyes and blocking out all the light from the afternoon sun in the school yard. This was all too much.

"You look like you need a ride," Deadlock said, flicking Hot Rod in the forehead.

Hot Rod dropped his hands, staring down at the older man. They both stared at each other for a minute and Hot Rod shifted his feet. Deadlock looked concerned, and if that wasn't a sign that Hot Rod was having a bad day, nothing was.

"Yeah," Hot Rod said, rubbing his mouth. "A ride would be really good."

"Then you've got one," Deadlock said, smiling and holding up his key fob. He clicked a button, unlocking his car door and both of them slid into the seats.

Deadlock's car shot out of the parking lot and neither passenger noticed Springer watching from the side of his SUV a few rows down.


"So what's eating you?" Deadlock said, shifting into another gear as his car turned up a hill. He didn't have a destination in mind and Hot Rod didn't look like he wanted to be anywhere. Kid looked like someone'd suckerpunched him and Deadlock was more than happy to break anyone's face in who had even thought about it. He glanced at the slumped redhead who had yet to answer and tried again. "You want to go out to that lot and hit me again?"

"I don't think hitting things will help this time," Hot Rod sighed. He clutched his backpack to his chest and leaned on Deadlock's door. "I can barely think straight about it as it is."

"Talking helps," Deadlock said. Gasket always said talking helped, not that Deadlock ever took him up on it. When Deadlock talked about the things he really wanted to, his older friend would get pale and start shaking a little. Deadlock liked him too much to keep doing that to him. But how bad could Hot Rod's problems be? Gasket's advice was meant more for kids like Hot Rod anyway. "If you want to."

Besides, there was a good chance a name might get dropped and Deadlock could just take care of the problem himself. Which could be fun depending on what was going on.

Deadlock crossed his fingers that Hot Rod was being bullied and he'd have someone to beat into a bloody pulp.

His redheaded crush was having far different thoughts.

Hot Rod hugged the back pack tighter and breathed out slowly. He couldn't talk to his dad or Springer about it because he'd half to admit that he lied and there was the chance Blurr would get into real trouble. But Blurr was also going to get into trouble if he kept dealing with Swindle. Both were bad options, but Deadlock. The guy lived in lower Kaon. He probably saw drug dealers and worse all the time.

He might actually be the best person to get advice from.

"My friend." Hot Rod stopped himself from dropping Blurr's name. "He's getting drugs from a dealer at school. The cops are planning to bust the guy soon and I don't want him to get caught up in it. I'm not sure what to do."

Deadlock squinted at the road as he turned another corner. A dealer at the high school? That didn't sound right. He didn't know of any of Gasket's guys that were hanging out around there.

Deadlock looked over at Hot Rod with the corner of his eyes. "There's a dealer at your school?"

"Yeah," Hot Rod said. He dropped his bag on the floor well, and ruffled his own hair. "I know who it is, too, but I can't tell anybody or they'll bust him and maybe all the people he's selling to which includes Blu—my friend. I want him to stop buying drugs, not get arrested!"

Deadlock shook his head slowly, going over drop points in his head. "That's not right. There shouldn't be any dealers at a high school."

Hot Rod dropped his hands into his lap. "Really? Wouldn't high schoolers be a good crowd to sell drugs to?"

"They usually can't afford it," Deadlock said, scrunching his nose. Which was true. Even Deadlock couldn't afford to buy most of the stuff they dealt with. Deadlock only got product at a significant discount because he was living with the guy who made the stuff. "What's your buddy buying anyway?"

"Speed boosters," Hot Rod said, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. "Why?"

Deadlock laughed, hitting the steering wheel. He rubbed the back of his head and scratched at his hair line. Deadlock snorted, "Oh, oh man. Okay. I get it now."

"Get what?"

"Nothing, I was just trying to wrap my head around why someone would be trying to move product to a bunch of kids who were still getting their money from mommy or daddy," Deadlock said. He clicked his tongue and snorted. "But your 'dealer' sounds like he's just moving a bunch of kid stuff."

"Speed boosters are 'kid stuff'?" Hot Rod asked, shifting in his seat. He knew Deadlock was kinda off in the head, had a gun, and lived in lower Kaon, but he somehow never considered that the guy might actually be involved with all the crime that went on down there. Hot Rod felt sort of foolish in hindsight. He swallowed, "You sound like you know a lot."

"Ought to," Deadlock said, smiling. He bit the edge of his lip, and idly spun the wheel to turn down another street. Deadlock wondered if Hot Rod was even paying attention to where they were. "I might be a bit involved with the business myself."

"Oh," Hot Rod said, swallowing.

Testing the water, Deadlock reached over to his glove compartment—his hand was so close to Hot Rod's knee he almost grabbed it but controlled himself. Do it later, Deadlock, later—and popped it open. He pulled out a small vial and dropped it in Hot Rod's lap.

Hot Rod picked up the tube, his eyes widening. This could absolutely not be what he thought it was.

"Now if you said your dealer was dealing with those," Deadlock said, grinning wide as he took another turn. "I'd be a little more worried."

And probably have some work to do.

"What is this?" Hot Rod said, his heart thumping louder in his chest. He had a feeling he knew what this was, but there was no way he should be holding it. His dad would murder him.

Assuming Springer didn't do it first.

"Neural Booster," Deadlock said. He laughed as Hot Rod jerked up, nearly dropping the small vial. Deadlock snorted. "Be careful with that. You're holding about a grand's worth of product right there and I don't think you've got that much money in your wallet to pay me back."

But then again, Deadlock hummed, he could think of other ways—no, stop it. Deadlock was driving. He reminded himself he was driving and licked his lips. Couldn't do that right now.

"This cost a thousand dollars?" Hot Rod choked, suddenly clutching the tiny glass vial tighter to his chest. Now he really, really knew he shouldn't even be in the car with this thing. Hot Rod looked down at his hand, the vial completely hidden by his fist. Deadlock said this cost a grand. He knew drugs were expensive, but it was so small. "For one dose?"

"One?" Deadlock blinked. He looked over at Hot Rod and shook his head. For the son of the police chief he really didn't know anything about all this, did he? Deadlock licked the side of his lip. "That's like four doses."

For a regular person, anyway. It was one or two depending on his mood for Deadlock, but he was an admitted addict. For someone Hot Rod's age and size, it'd be more like eight doses. There was a reason they didn't push that stuff on kids and teenagers that had nothing to do with the law: Dead buyers didn't come back for seconds.

Overdosing on Neural Boosters was a rough way to go.

"Doesn't take much then, does it?" Hot Rod said. The liquid swished in the container, and Hot Rod realized for the first time that some was missing. Hot Rod found a button on the side, and clicked it. A needle popped out at the end, and Hot Rod was careful not to touch it. "You use these?"

"You probably don't actually want to know the answer to that," Deadlock said. His water test was failing. Hot Rod didn't know nearly enough about this life yet for Deadlock to be figuring out if he could handle dealing or not. But that was fine, Deadlock would have other opportunities. "So let's go back to your dealer troubles. What is it you actually want to do about it?"

"I just want my friend to stop buying his drugs so he won't get in trouble," Hot Rod said, leaning back in the seat. He fidgeted with the small thousand dollar tube, at least somewhat relieved that what Blurr was taking was considered a light drug. "That's all."

"Well, if his dealer gets arrested, I can promise you he'll just find someone else," Deadlock said, shrugging. "People who want their fix'll get it."

"That's what I'm worried about," Hot Rod said, letting the vial tilt to the side in his hand. He held it near his thigh and shook his head. "This is over my head."

"A little bit," Deadlock said. He turned and ruffled Hot Rod's hair. Deadlock loved every strand of hair that went through his fingertips. He wanted to tug it harder. Deadlock shoved it down. Later. He could do that later. Lots more later. Seeing Hot Rod holding his favorite drug was doing wonders for testing his self control today. "But you'll figure it out."

The car ran over a pothole in the road.

Deadlock cursed, grabbing the wheel and straightened out his car after his car's stiff shocks sent his car up in the air about a foot. Deadlock huffed as the road smoothed out again. Next time he went joy riding, he'd do it somewhere where the streets were nicer—

Hot Rod hissed.

Deadlock slammed on the breaks, thankful the road was empty in the suburban neighborhood he'd been circling.

Hot Rod shook, his hands around the place where the needle of Deadlock's booster had jammed into his leg. The vial was already half empty.

"Ah, shit," Deadlock hissed as Hot Rod's eyes widened and his breath picked up.