Counterfeit
Chapter 12: Many Happy Returns
By: Mooncrossed
Hey, folks! Sorry for the long wait. Blushes. Several things came up that delayed, derailed, and disrupted my writing. Personally, I blame Simmons. He simply refused to cooperate! I'd like to thank Noella50881 (Yup, Cass does have a temper... Poor Bee), to XxShadowfangxX (Too true... 'Cons love to laugh, especially at the misfortunes of others. Grin), to RedTailHawk19 (ohhh, that would be too cruel. Imagines Cassidy running away in abject terror of all things romantic. Snicker), and to Guest (thanks, glad I could make you laugh!) I don't own Transformers, I-Hop, the Internet, the Wolfman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or Deliverance. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my family, who endured every proof-reading with good humor, and God, without whom I would have no talent at all. Now, on with the show!
An hour before sunrise...
The room at the end of the hall could barely qualify as a bedroom. Concrete walls, concrete floors, and a steel re-bar ceiling were the first things Simmons noticed as he casually strolled into the echoing cavernous room. He turned his head to regard the pile of furniture that had been blocking the door in a vain effort to keep her fellow 'housemates' out. A rapid glance revealed pencils, paper, open textbooks, and half a dozen notebooks, all signs of a late night study-homework session. Very nice. For a moment he considered the teenager in his midst, lying fast asleep, drooling into her pillow, and almost pitied her... almost. Leaning down close, he shouted with deafening good cheer, "WAKEY, WAKEY." Only years of training on the force gave him the reflexes needed to dodge the fist that came careening for his nose a split second later. Catching her arm in a vice-like grip, he hauled her out of bed. "Awww, you know better than that! Time for school, short-stuff!"
"Gnnnugh," the brunet garbled, peeling bleary eyes open to behold the lunatic grin of the government agent. And why was she standing up? Hadn't she just been having a wonderful dream about unicorns... and puppies...? Brown eyes drifted closed and a slight snore escaped her lips. Teetering on the verge of asleep and awake, she slowly tilted backwards. Unfortunately, there was now a strange man who had intruded on her dream. One who wore a black suit and pranced around randomly giving audits to innocent fairy-tale creatures. The unicorn looked particularly upset. Maybe it was because the poor beast had his audit papers stuck to his horn?
"Oh, no you don't," Agent Simmons warned, hauling her back on her feet again and hustling her toward the door. Pausing a moment to scoop up his briefcase, he noticed that the brunet was making her slow shuffling way toward the shelving unit to get her clothes. He easily apprehended her. "We don't have any time for that! This could be a matter of life and death, quick, quick, quick!"
Quite unexpectedly, Cassidy found a briefcase shoved into her arms. She blinked in sleepy surprise as she was hustled along at breakneck speed. Down the hallway they traveled, past doors, echoing side-passages, and confused giant robots who were in the midst of drinking some kind of hot-pink radioactive material.
"Um, excuse me," one of them boomed suddenly. Bulkhead stared in innocent curiosity at them. He exchanged glances with Bumblebee before considering the organics standing just beyond the rec-room doorway. "Where are you going?"
"Can't talk," Simmons snapped back, the very picture of authority. "Official government business!" He shoved Cassidy aside long enough to flash his government badge at the two aliens. The fact that she promptly lost her balance and fell on her face was completely unintentional... Though the vaguest sadistic smirk might have twitched to life for a half a second at the painful sound of her body hitting the concrete floor. Then he was all business as he gave a fifteen minute prepared speech that essentially translated to, 'I'm not allowed to tell you anything.'
Just as Cass was picking herself up off the floor, something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Over in the adjacent hallway was a vending machine... and were those blackened tentacles oozing out of the bottom? In half awake alarm, she squinted desperately against the glare of the overhead lights even as she scuttled nervously away from it. Before she could confirm that it was, in fact, the space barnacle infected snack-machine she'd encountered on her first day at the base, a hand grabbed the back of her pajama shirt and hauled her to her feet. Turning her head, she squinted back into the hallway only to find it empty. Oh, well. It was probably her imagination. Right? The brunet made a mental note to invest in a lighter, just in case. And then she was moving. Before she knew it, she found herself sitting in a fancy rental car... handcuffed to a briefcase? Blearily, she stared down at this unusual fashion statement and contemplated whether she wanted to remove her fancy new bracelet now or later.
It seemed to only be a matter of minutes before they were just beyond the city limits. Screeching to a halt, Reuben leaped out of the car and hauled Cassidy out of the back seat. A whoosh of automatic doors sounded and they abruptly stopped. No, it wasn't a secret government spy center like she'd hoped it was, it was a diner! Patrons and waitresses looked up and stared at them in abject disbelief. Cass, barefoot and dressed in fashionable kitty pajamas while handcuffed to a briefcase, stared back. She turned to leave only to get strong-armed into the nearest chair by Simmons. "Say nothing," the government agent warned. "Act casual... enemy agents could be anywhere!"
"Hello," a waitress cheerfully began while shuffling around some menus. "Welcome to I-Hop! May I take..." Then she looked up and faltered. "... Your order?" Goggle eyed, she studied Cassidy's odd attire. Were those cartoon cats printed all over her clothes?!
Blushing nearly scarlet, the seventeen-year-old wished she could melt through the floor... or kill Simmons. Either option was okay in her book. In a haze, Cassidy listened to the government agent order a colossal meal fit for an army. Her eyes widened as her mind suddenly concocted a ludicrous scenario that, considering her current company, just might happen! And she knew exactly how! Ominous music would begin to play as an army transport vehicle would come rumbling up off the highway, the doors would slowly creek open, like the entrance to a haunted house. Then twenty navy S.E.A.L.S., five army rangers, and a lady drill sergeant would file out, all eager to eat breakfast! Crowding into a corner booth, she pictured her face getting smooshed against a soldier's flack jacket, her head getting used for an arm rest, and half a dozen army boots accidentally stomping on her bare feet. Blinking back to reality, the pajama clad teenager aimed a suspicious glare toward the government spook. If he'd invited any of those guys to her personal humiliation, she was going to scream! Instead, she carefully examined the handcuff wrapped around her wrist.
Back when she was really young, she'd hated jewelry. Necklaces had the potential to choke her (a fairly common hazard considering how often she got into fights), rings hurt her fingers when she was arm wrestling, and there was no way she was getting her ears pierced. Bracelets on the other hand... Those were fun! She remembered layering her arms in bangles and dancing, pretending to be some kind of retro-gypsy. Other times, she'd wear only one or two as she regally imagined being a noble from a bygone era. The problem was, the clasps were almost impossible to hook together, and her parents and brother very quickly grew tired of helping her. There had to be another solution. And, like the enterprising little kid that she was, she'd found one: Flexibility! It might have taken a little work, but her hands could now slip out of a bracelet very nicely.
Now she studied the handcuff on her wrist with idle curiosity. Shaking her trapped fist until her fingers were relaxed, she slowly inched her hand through the opening until she had slipped free. She paused as a new thought drifted into focus in her under-caffeinated brain. Did she really want to broadcast to Agent Reuben Simmons that she could do this? Biting back a sigh, the brunet slipped her hand back into the shackle. Then she turned her attention to the briefcase she was attached to, and grimaced. Lock-picking just wasn't her thing. Oh, don't get her wrong, she could do it... as long as she had most of the day to herself, an army of bobby pins... and a key wouldn't hurt, either. Cassidy was spared from any further contemplations of an illegal nature by a hand slapping the table in front of her.
"Okay, kid," Reuben began in hushed tones. "I can't tell you much, but what I will say is this: We barely made it out of there alive! As of right now, this restaurant is the only point of safety in Detroit! Why, any minute now, a nuke might land..." He stiffened as his cell-phone rang loudly. Digging the device out into the open, he stared at the message displayed on the screen in wide eyed alarm. Oh, no! Kid, I've got to go! It's a matter of national security!" Jumping out of his chair, he was gone in seconds, racing out the door as if his coattails were on fire. And then the food arrived...
Cassidy stared in bleary eyed awe as platters piled high with eggs, pancakes, oatmeal, and everything else in between were set before her. She didn't have her wallet. Lowering her head into her hands, she wriggled her bare toes. Singing yellow cats were printed in a chaotic pattern all over her pajamas. At least, she thought they were singing... they were surrounded by music notes! Sinking lower in her chair, she blushed at all the attention she was receiving. A giant pitcher of orange juice was plonked down at the table. Several empty minutes went by, and Reuben still hadn't come back. Now the waitress's smile was beginning to look strained. Where was that conniving spook?!
Casually leaning back in his chair, Agent Reuben Simmons glanced around at his surroundings. It was such a lovely little hotel room! Making a mental note to look up this address again for future reference, he glanced out of a nearby window at the I-Hop across the street and idly wondered how much longer it would take for that Nulte kid to loose her temper. If her psych-profile was anything to go by, she'd probably fly off the handle within the next thirty minutes or so. He'd just finished a nice tax-payer funded breakfast of eggs over easy and marmalade on rye-toast when an abrupt sizzling noise caught his attention. Turning his head, he watched half of the restaurant's florescent sign fizzle out and die. The spy grinned and muttered, "Finally." Tossing his napkin on the table, the government spook stood up and strolled out the door.
Every diner in I-HOP jerked up in alarm as the restaurant door was flung open with a crash. There Agent Simmons stood. Cassidy, who was surrounded by three annoyed waitresses and a manager who was threatening to call the cops, simply glared back. "Whew," he declared with a gleeful grin. "The world is saved! Come on kid, time's a wasting!" Shoving a fistful of cash into the manager's hands, he whisked the furiously blushing brunet out the door.
A roar of engines and several broken traffic laws later, Cass was standing in front of the Autobot's warehouse... half-awake and wishing she had dreamed the entire incident up. Apparently, someone up above took pity on her because the massive garage door entrance slowly rose to let her in at that exact moment. Blue optics blinked down at her in confusion from the darkness as she staggered on by. Bulkhead started to speak, then hesitated. She didn't look like she was in a talking mood... and what was she doing outside? At last deciding to let it go, the large alien transformed into his alternate form (a Herkimer Battle Jitney), and left the base. Whatever was going on, he was sure Prowl could handle it. As for him, he had to go on patrol!
Trudging through a thankfully empty base, down a mile long hallway, and into her room, Cassidy tiredly peeled off her filthy pajamas. That alone made her feel better. Making a mental note to burn them after school, she surveyed her clothing shelves for the least noticeable outfit she owned. Anything to avoid standing out! Deodorant was the next step, along with a healthy dose of foot powder to combat the grime of Detroit. At last, she stood proudly, her makeshift book-bag in hand...staring longingly down at her nice comfy bed. Dropping face-first into the foam mattress, she was fast asleep before she'd even landed.
Meanwhile...
"No, absolutely not," Bumblebee exclaimed vehemently in Cybertronian. He waved his arms for emphasis of how 'Not Okay' he was with this new plan. "You couldn't pay me enough to do that!"
"There is no-one else available," Prowl countered. With quiet dignity, he rested upon the medi-berth. At the mulish expression that came over Bee's face-plates, the tactician became contemplative. "I have observed that, by Cybertronian standards, you are at a similar level of development to Cassidy. Between the stages of youngling and adult."
"Hah," Ratchet barked out a laugh. "I thought I was the only one who noticed! She had that exact same expression on her face throughout that botched medical exam two days ago!"
"Indeed," Prowl agreed, his visor gleaming with a certain hint of cruel amusement. "The constant efforts to evade responsibility, the defiance against authority, the tendency to recharge late into the day..."
"I'm nothing like that little Pit-Spawn," Bumblebee protested, his optics flashing with alarm.
"Language," Ratchet admonished, waving a tool warningly.
Visibly wilting at the ultimatum, the scout whined, "Can't you find someone else? Anyone else?" An idea occurred to Bee that made him visibly brighten. Maybe he could take Sari along. She loved to visit the High-School last time, and more importantly, she always managed to cheer Cassie up. Any and all plans for making the nine-year-old act as a Human shield went up in flames when he suddenly remembered one key fact: last night was Marathon Movie Night. That meant that all day today, the red-head would be sleeping off the effects of two cartons of ice-cream, one case of root-beer, fifteen candy-bars, two bags of microwave popcorn, and ten hours of non-stop horror movies. He was on his own... Noooo!
"Optimus is conducting a video-conference with the mayor of Detroit," Prowl supplied in dispassionate tones, as of to confirm his worst fears. "Bulkhead in on patrol, Ratchet is attending his duties as our only medic, and I am unfortunately laid up in recovery. That leaves you to take Cassidy to the organic learning center."
"But... but Cassie hates me," Bee exclaimed. "Did you hear even a fraction of the things she said to me yesterday?! I mean, it's not like I can replace the spark-felt trust and affection that Prowl shares with her! A guardianship is special!"
"Oh, for the love of Primus," Ratchet fumed, picking up a spanner from a nearby workbench. Whether it was to be used as an instrument of healing or as a disciplinary device depended on how much longer Bumblebee continued to whine. "It's just one car ride, not a bonding ceremony! Prowl will be back on his pedes in time to pick Cassidy up from the organic learning center by this afternoon! Now get out of my med-bay!"
The scout fell silent, looking from Ratchet to Prowl in pleading disbelief. Unforgiving expressions met his gaze. At last, gusting out a put upon sigh, the smaller Autobot slowly trudged from the room. His slump of defeat was the last thing they saw before the automatic doors slid closed behind him. A blessed silence fell over the room. Quietly, both mechs returned to the activities they'd been indulging in before Bumblebee's noisy intrusion: Ratchet, to his careful medical examination of his patient's processor; and Prowl, to his morning meditation. After a moment, the tactician commented, "By the way, you have my thanks. If you had told him Prime's video-conference was happening in his office, he would not have wasted any time in convincing our leader to take Cassidy to the learning center, instead."
"Of course," the medic rasped, a certain level of malicious amusement in his voice. "And I also know that Bumblebee's responsible for all my tools getting mysteriously glued to the ceiling last Tuesday."
"Ah, I had suspected as much," Prowl commented absently. "A certain obnoxious shade of hot pink paint was mixed into the wash-rack soap dispenser last week. It took me five hours to remove the color from my frame and there is only one culprit who could possibly be responsible. Considering Cassidy's peculiar early morning...temperament, I felt she was a more than a fitting punishment for Bumblebee as well."
"You're a cruel mech," Ratchet replied in gruff tones as he began the next test. There might have been a certain level of approval behind all the static and rust in his voice. So far, there was nothing wrong with Prowl's processor, but he wanted to be absolutely certain before he sent him back out into the field. Better to be safe rather than sorry.
At that moment...
Bumblebee trudged morosely down the corridor until he stood in front of a plain, organic sized bedroom door. Oh, sure, it might have looked boringly ordinary, but the scout knew better. Somewhere behind that door was a terrifying creature that he had to not only wake up, but take to High-school as well. "I am not just like a teenager," he whined, sullenly scuffing the ground with one massive pede. "Cassie's mean, and antisocial, and...and..." His shoulders sagged. "Okay, maybe she is a little justified in her anger over the whole construction site incident yesterday, even if it wasn't my fault we got stuck in a traffic jam!" This led to memories of other embarrassing disasters, like the trashcan he'd tripped over at her old job. For some reason, those things were always sitting on the curb right where an unsuspecting mech might like to walk. Talk about annoying! It totally wasn't his fault that he'd stumbled over one of them and crashed, helm first, through a window that belonged to Cassie's boss. Sheesh!
A new, more positive memory caused him to visibly brighten. None of the other Humans had bothered to give him a nickname before, but she had! Sure, 'Bumbles' was a somewhat annoying nickname, but it still meant that she liked him! His confidence bolstered, the scout raised one servo to knock, only to let out a frightened yelp when the lights over his helm let out a loud electrical buzz. Bumblebee turned his head and fearfully glanced up at the flickering and sputtering fixture nervously. Then he glared. It didn't matter what they did to it, whether it was changing the bulb, or even rewiring the entire system, nothing worked. For some reason, the light outside Cassie's room was constantly on the verge of going out. This gave the corridor an ominous, almost spooky appearance that reminded Bee of the set for one of the scary movies he'd watched last night. Trying to ignore the sense of impending doom he was getting, Bumblebee squared his shoulders and glared at the door like it was a living adversary. He could do this!
With terrifying power, he raised one massive robotic fist... only to abruptly loose his nerve and knock timidly against Cassidy's bedroom door, instead. "Caaassiee," the scout warbled hesitantly. "It's... er, it's time for school!" No response was forthcoming no matter how much the scout strained his audio receptors. Knocking again, he added an old-fashioned school-bell sound effect he'd found on the Internet. Still no answer. "Aww, come on! You don't want to be late, do you?" Bee fidgeted as the warehouse door continued to taunt him with it's absolutely ominous silence. Now, he was growing worried. She could be hurt, or kidnapped, or mutated into some kind of horrific creature. He knew it could happen, he saw it in nearly every horror movie last night! Gathering his courage, Bee reached down, slowly lifted the garage door access to her room, and shuffled into the blackened gloom one inch at a time.
"Cassie," Bumblebee whispered, his wide blue optics shining in the dark. Gradually, his vision adjusted to recognize the teenager sprawled out on her bed in a blissful state of unconsciousness. Dressed in a rumpled tee-shirt and jeans, with a pair of dark glasses rested haphazardly on her nose and her tennis shoes half-on and half-off her sock clad feet, she was passed out face first on her tire-bed. Excited to find her unharmed, he bounded over to her bed with loud crashing footsteps. "OH THANK PRIMUS," he exclaimed at the top of his vocalizer while he activated his headlights. "YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!" She didn't reply...at least, not in English. Hissing like a vampire, she burrowed her face into the pillows. The scout blinked in hurt surprise at her less than happy reaction to his presence before he scowled in abrupt realization. "Heeey! Why didn't you say you were awake? You might have been hurt, or kidnapped, or fallen into another dimension, or..."
It's amazing what a person can sleep through if they are really determined. Cassidy dozed through a description of the warning signs that you were turning into a werewolf, she snoozed her way past a description of the movie about the weird turtle creatures living in the sewers, and nearly became comatose when he warned about the hazards of going camping in the woods with cannibals. The scout was jarred back to reality when she let out a particularly loud snore. "Awww, don't be like that, Cassie," he warbled unhappily as he nudged her with one finger. Besides burrowing deeper into the blankets, she didn't bother to reply. He smirked. Oh, yeah, he mused to himself as he picked up one end of the tire bed and tipping it slightly. Well, two can play at this game... What the...?! To the Autobot's surprise, Cassidy remained on the bed, her arms and legs wrapped around the edges with the tenacity of a space-barnacle. And she was still sleeping!
For a long moment he stared in disbelief. "She couldn't be," he mumbled in Cybertronian. A scan proved that, yes, she was actually still unconscious. Then a devious look twisted his metal features. Hefting up the unwieldy tractor-tire in both servos, he turned it upside-down and shook it. Aside from a few pillows and one sad looking blanket, nothing fell off! Twisting it back upright, he stared in honest confusion at the sleeping Human... who was clinging like a limpet to the foam mattress. Ten minutes later, Bumblebee slowly trudged out of Cassidy's room, dragging a snoring tire-bed behind him. Ratchet would know what to do! He glanced behind himself at the still sleeping brunet and frowned. Well, he hoped that Doc-bot had a solution, because he had run out of ideas.
Arriving in the rec-room, Bee dropped the tire bed with a thump and wiped the condensation from his face-plates. Whew, he silently reflected. Getting a teenager to school is hard work! Wonder if Sari is going to be this bad when she gets older? Pausing a moment, he tried to imagine it, before shuddering. Over my off-lined frame! Deep down inside, he felt the first twinge of pity for Prowl. Oh, don't get him wrong, he was still planning on revenge-pranking him for this. Still, he mused contemplatively. If I had to go through this routine every day, I'd be trying to foist off the job on everyone else, too. Deciding to just get it over with, he turned to pick up the bed again, only to seize up in sudden panic. Cassie's vanished! How?! When?! If I've lost her, I'm in a slag-heap of trouble!
Looking wildly around, he checked underneath the tire-bed, searched behind furniture, and looked up every hallway. That's when he spotted her...standing in the kitchenette, with her eyes glued to the coffeemaker as if her life depended on it. "Hey, there you are," Bumblebee exclaimed, stomping over to the small organic in relieved annoyance. "You know, Cassie, you could have told me that you were over... Huh?" Pausing, he gave the brunet an up close look. She didn't move, didn't twitch, didn't so much as flinch. The drip-drip-drip of caffeine seemed to absorb every fiber of her being. Nervously, the scout fidgeted.
Unaware of the steadily growing panic-attack she was causing, Cassidy stared at the steady drip of the coffeemaker. The brunet didn't know how she had gotten into the kitchenette of the Autobot base, nor did she have any discernible comprehension of much of anything else. All she knew was that she was safely encased in the soothing shadows of the overhang, the heavenly aroma of coffee was drifting around her head, and the wall she was leaning against was nice and cold. She closed her eyes in a state of half-awake bliss.
"Caaaasssssiiieee," Bumblebee crooned softly, his huge face mere inches behind her. On hands and knees, he peered into the little kitchenette in growing worry. He reached inside and waved one servo in front of the teenager. "Yoo-hoo, Cybertron to Cassie!" Sitting back, the scout glanced around with worried optics. Was it some kind of organic processor-ache? A catastrophic system failure?! Or maybe a spark-attack!? Nervously, he looked again. The brunet still stood there, leaning against the wall, staring at that little tiny drink making device. This was not normal Human behavior! Medi-Bot, he needed a medi-Bot! About to jump to his pedes to retrieve the doctor, the scout abruptly paused as a new thought came to his mind. What if something worse happened to her while he was gone? Bulkhead was nowhere in sight, so he couldn't ask him to go for help and he couldn't leave. So, that just left... Cranking his head back he bawled at top volume, "RATCHET!"
"Don't worry, youngling, I'm right here," Rachet bellowed, his voice growing louder as he ran into the rec-room. Venting great gusts of air from the exertion of sprinting across the base, he breathlessly questioned, "What is it this time? Did you get your pede caught in an electric outlet, again? Light yourself on fire? Lost another limb?" Rather than answer, Bumblebee worriedly pointed into the kitchenette. The medi-bot froze in sudden realization. A lot of horrific injuries could and did happen in one key area of an organic household: the kitchen. Already, he pictured head trauma, knife wounds, electrocution, and the list went on. Dreading what he'd find, the medic hurriedly peered down into the dim cubbyhole to find Cassidy doubled over with her hands over her ears. "Oh, dear Primus, no," he mumbled in Cybertronian as he prepared to run a diagnostic scan on her prone form.
Cassidy dazedly considered a world that seemed strangely off-kilter. She did her best to attempt to remember what she'd been doing just before her whole world had imploded. 'Let's see,' she carefully pondered as she climbed gracelessly to her feet. 'Everything began with that weird dream I had where I was being manhandled by a Tyrannosaurus-Rex... who wouldn't stop talking about movie trivia. Then there was the coffeemaker... and then...um...' Squinting, she attempted to force her mind to function despite the horrific ringing in her ears. That's when electricity skittered through her body from the top of her head to the soles of her feet like a lightning strike. "Yee-youch," the brunet yowled in surprised agony, her spine arching back in a futile attempt to avoid more pain. Straightening up, she twisted around and bestowed a sleepy death glare toward the one responsible.
Ratchet squinted worriedly back. The results arrived on Ratchet's medical diagnostic a second later and he scowled. Standing up, he smacked Bee on the back of the helm and snarled, "Quit sounding false alarms!"
"Ow," he yelped, his servos instantly covering the new dent that adorned the back of his head. Then he suddenly realized Ratchet was walking away. "What...?! Whoa, wait, aren't you going to help her?"
"Considering the fact that I have over two-hundred diagnostics left to initiate, youngling," Ratchet drawled condescendingly. "The answer is no. I've got better things to do with my time than help an organic get her coffee-fix for the day. Now, unless you've lit your aft on fire, leave me alone!" The sliding door to the med-bay locking shut punctuated his sentence.
Honestly confused, Bumblebee looked back inside the low cubbyhole to the organic kitchen. Huh, he mused, squinting into the dim light. What's coffee? Is it some kind of weird music group? His search engine was already hard at work finding the answer. Cassidy had, by this point, picked herself up and staggered back to the source of all things java. The history of coffee as an export flashed to life on Bee's HUD, and the scout rolled his optics theatrically even as he scrolled past it. Next came the scientific classification. Yeash, spare me, he mentally groaned bypassing this as well. This was followed by a rough definition and he vented a sigh of relief. Finally! So, it's some sort of strange organic fuel source. Big deal! I mean, what could be so bad about... this?! Trailing off, his optics widened at the list of side-effects that flashed to life in front of his optics. By this point, Cassidy had her first steaming hot mug of caffeinated goodness and was gratefully guzzling it down. Almost against his will, the Cybertronian took note of her tired, listless demeanor, her zombie-like movements, and the slightly grumpy expression marring her features.
Sudden movement drew his attention away from the disaster known as Cassidy Jane Nulte to take in a new horrifying sight. All the loud noises had awakened a certain red-head from her zombie riddled dreams. Now, there Sari stood, blearily straining for all she was worth to reach the half full percolator. Dread filled optics watched that tiny Human hand reach higher and higher until she just barely brushed the handle. "Oh, no you don't," Bumblebee declared in no nonsense tones as he scooped the nine-year-old off to safety. Ignoring her sleepy protests that she just wanted to try some, he deposited the little girl into the nearest kitchen chair and shoved a handful of organic fuel from the refrigerator into her arms. "I can't have two of you addicted to that nasty coffee. From now on, you're sticking with healthy foods, like burger-Bot meals and chocolate!"
Completely missing the expression of disbelief on Sari's face, he again focused his attention on his temporary Human charge. Then he started in surprise. Hey, where did she go?! Optics wide, Bumblebee looked wildly around. Okay, she's not in the kitchen, so therefore... His face-plates brightened into an expression of spark-felt relief. "Oh, there you are, Cassie," the scout exclaimed out loud, running up to her with tremor inducing steps. "How'd you manage to walk that fast! I mean, a rust damaged service drone usually travels faster."
At that most hated of nicknames, a sour expression crossed the brunet's features. "Thanks, Bumbles, love the compliment," Cassidy interrupted in dry tones. "Now, yah mind telling me why my bed is sitting out in the middle of the rec-room?" A frown stole across her features even as she took another casual sip of coffee. 'Then again,' she reflected, 'Do I really want to find out?'
"Yeah, Bee," Sari agreed, stuffing an entire dark-chocolate and walnut fudge candy-bar into her mouth like a chipmunk. Spewing chocolate crumbs and doing her level best to be understood around a clogged tongue, she continued, "Thatsh rully weird."
"Huh, what's really weird?" Bumblebee repeated her garbled words in confusion as he glanced down at the small girl. Then the realization hit him that Cassidy was no longer there... again. "Hey," he squawked, spotting her retreating figure traveling slowly up the long hallway toward her room. "Cassie, where are you going? The exit's that way!"
"To get my homework," Cassidy called back. "I've decided it's easier to keep my sanity if I don't know what you guys do to my personal belongings when I'm not around to defend them." She'd worked hard on it, too. Nearly pulling an all-nighter, the brunet had labored through reams of history notes, mathematics by the busload, and way too many Biology lab papers. Seriously, what made Ms. Shanahan think she needed to know how seagulls reproduced? All it had taught her was the fact that she was glad she wasn't a seagull, and she'd already felt that way before she'd even started! Still, she'd obediently written the paper on everything from their dining habits (yuck), to their mating dances (worthy of a ten minute laughing fit). Now, all she had to do was get her homework and turn it all in. A huge mechanical hand abruptly scooped her up like a pet hamster and dropped her on top of an unyielding metal shoulder. "Gaaah! Bumbles, you made me spill! Put me down!"
"I did put you down," he joked back, even as he headed the opposite direction. "Now, come on! High-School awaits... Bwaagh! Cassie, stop it! I'm not a jungle-gym!" Flapping his arms wildly, he let out a feminine yelp as she dug one of her sneakers into a particularly sensitive wiring system while climbing down his back.
Somehow, Cassidy was still holding her coffee mug when she reached the ground. Glaring down at the giant brown stain on her tee-shirt, she gritted her teeth. Now she had another reason to go back to her room. Ignoring the giant mechanical sissy currently checking for fingerprints on his armor, the teenager resumed her long trudge toward her room. And then she was air-born again as clawed metal fingers hooked the back of her shirt. "Gaaah," she yelped, flailing. "Bumbles, you freaking son of a..."
"Hey, I'm trying to get you to school," he retorted, only to have a mild panic attack when she abruptly slipped out of his servo. How she managed to grasp his knee-guard at the last second on the way down was a complete mystery. Crockery smashed, followed by a long stream of organic curse words. The quick bio-scan he made proved that she was perfectly alright... and leaving. Why did he have the distinct sensation that people were laughing at him right now? Casting a suspicious glance around the hallway, he completely missed the six hidden cameras aimed his way. It was a cinch he wouldn't know about the four Decepticons falling all over themselves with amusement on the other side of town. "Woah, wait a minute, Missy! Don't you dare shut your door on me!" A slam cut off his words, and he slumped. "She just did..." Several minutes crawled by with agonizing slowness. "Cassie? Could you maybe speed things up in there?" Silence. "Helllooo, little organiiiic... Cassie?" Continuing silence.
Grumpily digging through her clothes for a new bra (yes, that had gotten coffee stained as well), Cassidy looked up to see a huge mechanical face with blue search-beam eyes peering at her from the newly opened doorway. "Gaaagh," she yelped, trying to cover herself up and defend herself at the same time. Finding a mud smeared sweater, she chucked it as hard as she could. "Get out!"
"AAAAGH," Bumblebee screamed, getting a wad of dirty laundry right between the optics. Loosing his balance, he fell on his aft with a resounding crash.
And on the other side of town...
Swindle shook his head at the image on the ship's view-screen. "Oh, brother," he drawled, rolling his optics skyward. "Talk about pathetic! Who's superior, the Human or the 'Bot?" The con-mech smiled. Tilting his head, he watched Bumblebee loose a pathetic battle with the fleshling's dirty laundry. Who knew cloth could clog up a mech's facial gears that badly? While the scout struggled to remove the sweater hooked over his optics, Cass left her room wearing a new outfit and holding a tote-bag full of books. Eying the giant robot that was writhing around on the floor, she then wandered away, mumbling about the insanity of aliens in general. Checking his appearance one last time in the ships reflective paneling, he concluded he was devastatingly perfect as usual. A flick of a switch and the camera connection turned off. Transforming, he drove off, intent on getting to campus before she did. He had several plans to set into motion.
For one thing, Swindle had never suspected he'd get involved in show business. Selling expensive trinkets to rich starlets? Yes. These days, however, he found himself the owner of the small and highly successful company, 'Swindle Films.' Only one series was under the company's ownership, but what a show! The ratings were already through the roof. Aliens all across the galaxy were riveted to "Mud-ball City," the ongoing series about a group of misfit Autobot soldiers who'd been stranded on the most inhospitable, technologically backwards planet in existence, and somehow expected to save the universe! That led to the best part of the entire deal! He didn't have to pay a single credit for the privilege of recording each 'episode.' Frag, he didn't even have to allow for vacation time for the 'actors.' All he'd needed to do was sit back, relax, and allow Soundwave's spy-feeds into Optimus Prime's base take care of the rest. And, of course, what alien could ever forget the show's top star, the most well known organic in the galaxy: Cassidy Jane Nulte!