I apologize for the weird schedule I've been on - my sister introduced me to LEGO Jurassic World and I've been binge-playing it far more than I should. Now that I'm nearly done (ish) playing it, I can focus more on this.

Next month will also be a weird schedule for this since I'll be preparing for NaNoWriMo. My goal is to have this finished by early October, but we'll see how that goes.

Thanks again for everyone who reads and reviews this. It's always so nice to see that someone is following the story!

~DC

Hound sounded surprised when he commed them all to inform them that his informant had set up camp for them and had more information for them. When they arrived at the specified coordinates, a rather non-descript Honda CRV was waiting for them. A man was sitting on the hood of the car, a lit cigarette in his hand, looking like he belonged more in some swanky hipster cafe than a dusty desert peak.

The hipster sat up, brushing off dust from the rolled-up sleeves of his lavender button-down, tugging his charcoal vest. He took off his glasses and hooked one end into his breast pocket beside his plaid pocket square. Dropping the lit cigarette to the dusty ground, he ground it out with a converse-shod foot.

"You look remarkably well put-together for being out in the middle of the desert," Armonie said, stretching a stiff leg. Jordan had noticed at their last stop that she had been walking strangely and had held her right hand stiff against her side. Perhaps it was just a byproduct of being stuck in a car all day, but Hot Rod's Jeep-like form was relatively roomy and Jordan was sure that she had space enough to stretch out.

Still, it was none of her business and if Armonie caught her watching, she gave no sign. The only concession she gave aside from her limp was to occasionally ask Hot Rod or Jordan to help her manipulate objects around her when her stiff limbs failed her. Mindful now that her long sleeves and pants hid painful injuries, Jordan held her gently when her assistance was required.

"Well, there is no one else here to comment on my state of dress 'in the middle of the desert'," the man replied. His voice was higher than Jordan would expect and if she hadn't been watching him speak, she wouldn't have been able to tell for sure whether a man or woman were speaking.

But, she supposed, if this was indeed Hound's spy friend, he/she wasn't technically a man or woman anyway.

"Only you." The spy's lips hooked up in a smirking smile that softened when he looked over at Hound. His piercing blue-green eyes crinkled slightly. "And only you, Hound, would choose a holoform of a fat Italian man in Nevada!"

Hound laughed deep from his holoform's belly. "He was a geology professor I encountered shortly after I landed. His personality was so much like mine that I felt like stealing his form."

"Not his identity, I hope," Prowl muttered, coming to stand beside Jordan.

"What's your name?" Jordan asked, digging an elbow into Prowl's side. Her partner glared at her, grinding his holoform's teeth.

The spy gave another of those hook-lipped smirks. "I've been called a lot of things," he said with a raunchy wink. "But you can call me Raoul - that's what I've been going by this past few months."

"You've been here a few months?" Bluestreak added, his holoform's lips thin. The spy tossed his head, hands in the pockets of his black slacks. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

The picture of ease, the spy shrugged. "I told Hound. Or does he not count as 'anyone'?"

Hound didn't look even a little repentant when Bluestreak glared at him. "No one ever asked," the scout pointed out. Jordan rolled her eyes at Armonie who nodded. "And he asked me not to tell in any case."

"We'll leave you boys to it," Armonie said, hooking her good arm around Jordan's. "Jordan and I will talk about more constructive things." Hot Rod's form rippled and he became the curly-haired hunting hound from before. Jordan supposed that he felt that since Armonie had not counted him in her previous statement, his words weren't necessary. But by now she had learned that his grief had made Hot Rod act a little strange so she didn't dare psychoanalyze him.

The spy - Raoul, Jordan guessed, until he gave them another name - doffed an imaginary hat with another mocking smirk. "I'll never argue with a lady."

Jordan rolled her eyes again. "When you guys are done with your pissing contest, we can talk about how to rescue everyone."

"Or kill them," Armonie murmured.

Saetta, who had taken a little longer to get to their stop, appeared beside them. With no one else to see, he appeared once more in the guise of a middle-aged man with rainbow-dyed hair and beard. His stormy grey eyes were as cold as ice and his grin showed far too many teeth to be a nice smile. "I have some updated equipment for you," he said, glancing for a brief moment at Raoul as if to size him up before deeming him uninteresting and turning back to Armonie and Jordan. "And some updates for you, Armonie."

It took only a moment for Jordan to set up the tent, having gotten used to the motion after the past two nights of setting up and taking down. The tent had been a gift from her grandfather shortly before he passed. Given that two of his gifts had already come in handy for this hunt, it almost seemed that he had a vision of the future in his last moments. Or so she would think if she were a spiritual woman.

Luck, she thought to herself as she flipped the mallet in her hands and stood with a groan. It was just luck.

Armonie had gone into Saetta's interior to speak privately and Hot Rod stared distrustfully at her from where he lay beside the engineer's front wheel. Pulling her gear out of her duffel bag, she laid a tarp out to protect her weapons from sand and went over each one.

Evans' Bite was fitted with Saetta's newest rounds, made to fit her grandfather's rifle. She loaded a few extra magazines with those bullets and then set the gun aside.

She checked her service gun even though she wouldn't be using it - one never knew when it would come in handy. Just in case, she loaded a few magazines of Saetta's flechette bullets before setting it aside. If she had to use the glock, then she would need all the help she could get.

Next was a rifle that Saetta had made for her or perhaps had repurposed and loaned to her. She saw the sad looks he gave it when she had it out in front of him, so she supposed it may have been the latter. Likely, it had a similar story to Armonie's sci-fi rifle.

Grumbling to himself, Prowl stalked over. "I can't wait to be rid of them," he muttered to her, flopping down beside her. Wordlessly he began packing magazines with rounds. "Life is simpler with just you."

Jordan glanced at the remaining Autobots as they bickered. They had disengaged their holoforms, all save Raoul, who sat on his hood and "smoked" another cigarette. "Almost tempting to pick up another vice."

"Don't," Prowl grunted, digging around in the small chest of ammo in front of him. "It's only slightly better than your current one."

It was refreshing; they rarely spoke of her drinking problem, even if Prowl didn't judge her for it. He hovered somewhere between her accountability person to keep her off alcohol and the voice of her temptation. Some days he seemed to encourage her alcoholism while some days he coached her away from the bottle. Personally, Jordan thought that Prowl wasn't entirely sure how to keep her from alcohol and accepted her lapses as his own failure.

They had a lot to talk about in that regard but neither of them particularly looked forward to that conversation; they simply weren't talking people.

Raoul glanced at them and tossed the box of cigarettes at her. The brisk wind caught it, preventing its forward motion; it landed at the edge of their blanket. "Nicotine doesn't do anything for me," Raoul said with an ironic smirk. "I can't even take a proper drag."

Jazz's holoform appeared beside them on the blanket, handing Jordan the cigarettes despite Prowl's glare. He picked up another magazine and began loading. "Not those," Jordan said, pulling the box of ammo away from him. "These." Obediently, Jazz removed the bullets and filled them with the correct ones. "What are they talking about?"

"Blue's mad because he wasn't aware that Raoul was on Earth," the dark-skinned man said breezily. "I guess he's feeling out of sorts knowing that there were so many of us that were undocumented. Illegally crossing into the US, and all." This was said with a wink.

"Not true!" Bluestreak yelled from somewhere behind his headlights.

Raoul leaned back against his windshield. "Look, this is all very thrilling, but shouldn't we be discussing strategy?" His light British accent made such a simple statement sound insulting.

"Shouldn't we wait for Armonie's jets?" Jordan asked.

"They're not my anything," Armonie said, opening Saetta's door and stepping out. "You could call them 'friends-of-friends' if you prefer." Hot Rod, as the curly-haired hunting hound, shadowed her steps.

Jazz moved to make a spot for her and with a nod in thanks, Armonie took it and began taking out her own weapons and doing a systems check. "Do I need to go in your cab, too?" Jordan asked Saetta suspiciously as he set up his own area nearby.

"No," the engineer replied. "I just had different alterations I needed to do for Armonie." Like some shopkeeper at a flea market, Saetta began laying gear and weapons on the tarp in front of him. "These are for you, Jordan. Try on the armor so I can make sure it fits comfortably."

Obediently, Jordan stood and began taking off her outer layers. As Saetta and Armonie coached her through the many layers, the holoforms reappeared on the tarps nearby. "I like to think that in a past life I was a stripper," Jordan told Armonie dryly when she was down to her cotton panties and sports bra. "Raoul, is there anyone nearby to see me?"

"Aside from us?" the hipster drawled. "I have motion sensors around the area to make sure that no one hikes or drives nearby. My own sensors are checking the air and I'm tuned in to the communications towers at the airports nearby to make sure no one is flying near enough to see us." Making a face, the holoform sat up, letting his legs hang over the edge of his hood sidesaddle. "It's just us here, darling." He winked.

Jordan laughed and stretched while Prowl looked scandalized. "Good, because I'm sure I reek."

Armonie wrinkled her nose. "You don't smell very nice," she agreed, a hint of wickedness in her shark-like eyes. "But neither was Angelo after a football match. His feet could kill - we used to use his cleats to ward off pests. Compared to him, you're like a field of flowers."

Barking a laugh, Jordan slipped into the undersuit piece by piece. It reminded her very much of a catsuit or some spandex nightmare straight out of a comic book. As Armonie helped to arm her (Saetta refused to touch her for all he fluttered and fretted around the pair, insisting that it was highly inappropriate), Raoul slid off his hood and wandered over.

"You had more news for us?" Hound pressed, settling his holoform's great bulk down in the sand.

Raoul made a face. "I'm not sure I believe it myself, but I got a strange comm."

Aside from Armonie and Saetta's quiet murmuring over Jordan's armor fitting, no one said anything for a moment. "Well?" Bluestreak demanded. "Are you going to tell us about it?"

"Hush!" Armonie hissed at him over her shoulder. "You being an ass about it won't make him tell it any faster." She glanced at Raoul. "Hot Rod and I got a strange comm a month or so ago. What did yours say?"

Raoul's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at her. "It was a nonverbal back when no one but Hound knew I was here on this dirtball. Ah...no offense."

"It is pretty dirty," Jordan said dryly, kicking at the sandy ground.

Armonie made a face but gestured over her shoulder for Raoul to continue. "I didn't answer it at first and I couldn't figure out who it was - it wasn't a code I recognized. Honestly, I almost ignored it completely; I'm glad I didn't." The holoform fidgeted before disappearing. It reappeared a moment later on a nearby rock, legs crossed in front of him. "The first things she told me were what I already knew." He told them about hacking into the human information network, watching the status changes regarding NEST and accessibility to the Autobot base.

They took a moment to pick through the information; Raoul, surprisingly helpful at this point, brought up visual displays of the information that meant very little to the humans but seemed to make a lot of sense to the Autobots. Armonie grabbed Jordan by her vest and shook her briskly, throwing the officer (ex-officer) off balance; there was surprising strength in the little Italian woman.

"Someone has been altering records," Prowl decided, sounding impatient. "At this point in time, we don't have the time nor the resources necessary to determine exactly who. We have to decide whether or not this is an important detail that we would like to pursue."

Bluestreak looked like he wanted to argue but eventually he caved. "Go on, Raoul."

"Then the conversation got weird," Raoul admitted. "I think I'm just overthinking this, or maybe it's just coincidence, but the next thing she told me was that Copper, Rubies, and Railroad Spikes will not get you to Paradise."

It sounded so silly and cliche that Jordan rolled her eyes again. Armonie frowned but said nothing, tugging the next layer of Jordan's armor across her chest and fastening the sides.

Raoul pointed to somewhere over Jordan's shoulder. "That way is Paradise Valley, Nevada. Their previous base was called Ruby Hill."

"Coincidence," Prowl said.

Armonie glanced up at Jordan and both women felt realization hit them simultaneously. "What does copper and railroad spikes have to do with anything?" Saetta asked curiously. "The whole phrase doesn't fit. You said it was a femme, Raoul?"

"Wait," Armonie said, voice coming out far sharper than she liked. Jordan winced at the sharp tone and loud voice. The Italian squeezed the ex-officer's bicep in apology. "Copper and a railroad spike...those were our...ah…"

"Souvenirs," Jordan supplied. "They were the only things of interest that we could take back from the last base. Copper...what was it?"

Raoul frowned. "Copper, Rubies, and Railroad Spikes will not get you to Paradise."

"Hot Rod and I received a message like that a few months ago," Armonie said, her left hand shaking. Jordan noticed with interest that her injured right arm didn't shake, remained steady as they checked the fit and buckles of the armor around her waist and hips. "Liberty can wait - The Valley in the shadow of Death calls where the rows of grapes stretch endless into the horizons. Throw aside the Figs and Oaks - search for the Rose."

All eyes were on her. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out her phone and opened her messages. It didn't take long to find the message - she had taken screenshots of it and had saved it many times. Hot Rod had a backup as well because both of them wanted to be sure that they hadn't hallucinated the conversation.

"This is just getting too weird," Jordan said, running a hand through her messy hair.

Raoul nodded. "I thought so too, but it's what brought me here."

"What else did she say?" Armonie asked.

The holoform shrugged, toying with the cuffs of his buttondown. "She didn't say much more - she told me she couldn't - but she said she would buy us time. In return, she expects us to return the girls that were kidnapped and 'prevent the disaster of all'."

"Disaster of all?" Jazz echoed. "Now that just sounds melodramatic."

Raoul shrugged. "Those were her words, not mine." He clapped his hands once, decisively. "Let's move on. Just before they went into their base, I caught a glimpse. As I'm sure you're already aware, the Stunticons are there."

"We know that they're being carried around that way," Bluestreak agreed grudgingly. "They've already had to gather supplies once not even two days ago. I'm not sure why they felt that they needed more."

"Maybe there's another captive with them?" Raoul asked mildly, running a hand through his hair. He ran a finger along the braids on either side of his undercut mohawk and in the trail of his fingers his hair turned blue, red, blond, and then returned to black. "Something else I noticed...where is the Secretary of Defense?"

They were quiet for a while, the silence broken only by Armonie's low murmurs to Jordan as she helped her don and fit the armor. Armonie glanced down at her phone. "Arbalet texted me. They are approaching and will reach us in about an hour."

"They text you?" Hound asked, brows furrowing.

"Air-ballet?" Jordan echoed.

Armonie's lips twitched. "It's Russian - all evidence I have of him says that he and his team had been in Europe, most likely Russia or countries that speak Russian. Hopefully they've come up with better names in English - I'm not sure how we well we would do with…" she squinted at her phone. "Pikirovshhik."

With crude words, Jordan told her what she thought of saying a name like that; Prowl looked away, seemingly mortified at her vulgarity.

Raoul laughed and spread out his hands. The gesture was needless, as creating another holoform, a map of light, didn't require such motions from him. Soft blue light blanketed the ground near where the humans had set up their stations. It fractured into neat grids and then rose as if by some magnetism into peaks and valleys. "I'm not the best at cavorting around the desert," Raoul said, jerking his thumb at his physical body. "Honda CRV's aren't really made for dirt roads for all they look like it or those human commercials seem to show and I'm not the best at tracking."

"I thought spies were supposed to be good at everything," Bluestreak said, taking a jab that had Jazz making a face; Raoul looked entirely unruffled.

"They must be able to do everything enough to keep them alive," Jazz corrected. He gestured to the rough-looking map, one that reminded Jordan of an old video game with blocky graphics. "He did pretty well for not being a scout or tracker and we don't need a whole lot more than what he's already plotted for us."

Bluestreak looked shocked and then apologetic. "I'm sorry, Jazz," he murmured. "I forgot…"

"We need to get along better," Prowl observed. "We can't keep trading jabs at each other like this. Who knows what would happen?"

"Let's get them on the comm," Saetta suggested. "Then we can start planning with them."

Jordan fished out her throat mic but noticed that Armonie pulled out a separate device. She wrapped the strap around her neck; with a magnetic click it snapped into place. The second piece was a small cord that reminded Jordan of an earphone jack for an old portable CD player. This she tucked behind her ear and stretched her jaw.

Shaking her head, Jordan finished putting on her throat mic and resolved to wear it for the rest of the hunt. "I'm in. Testing."

"Welcome to the party," Prowl said, a slight smile in his voice. He continued to load magazines on the blanket.

Armonie clicked her tongue. "Saetta, her cuisse doesn't fit right," the Italian woman said. So cued the awkwardness of having Saetta and Armonie kneeling at crotch-level in front of her legs. Prowl looked scandalised. Over the comms, Armonie added, "Arbalet, this is Armonie." Her lips didn't move. Jordan narrowed her eyes.

"Armonie, hello!" an unfamiliar voice said over the comms. It was a masculine voice that had the slightest hint of a Russian accent, audible only in his vowels. "I had thought that you would like to speak with us before we arrived."

"There are others on the line with me," Armonie told him, somehow managing to do so without moving her lips. "Let me introduce them to you?" At his agreement, she named everyone who greeted the cheerful Russian voice on the other end of the comm according to their natures.

Jordan shifted into a wider stance when Armonie nudged her knee open. "I definitely was a stripper in a past life."

Saetta's eyes held a laugh in them as he looked up from where he was adjusting a strap on her thigh. "Most people find this uncomfortable. I'm glad that you don't."

"Focus," Prowl told her privately. His holoform looked pained.

"It's okay, Prowl, I only have eyes for you," Jordan teased and Armonie cackled.

Arbalet chuckled. "Am I missing something?"

"Saetta and I are helping Jordan fit her armor and I suppose you could say we're in an awkward position." Armonie explained. "Move your leg, Jordan?" she asked out loud.

Bluestreak was frowning at the Italian woman. "We'll ignore for now the question of how you're doing that," he informed her.

"In any case, it's none of our business. The how, I mean," Jordan told Bluestreak. To Armonie, she said, "But you will list it among our assets, right?"

The woman made a face but nodded. "I suppose I must."

"Sorry for our lapse of attention, Arbalet," Jazz said, glancing at them. "What's your status?"

The voice on the other end of the comm chuckled. "I'm used to distractions," he assured them. "We're all just about combat ready by the time we reach you; just give us some time to rest before we jump back into the air."

"Do you have an ETA?" Jazz asked, all business.

Arbalet paused as if to think about it. "Best guess is that we'll be there by late afternoon, maybe around 4pm there." Jordan glanced at her wrist to check the time but remembered that she had taken her watch off to arm up.

"It's two, now," Prowl told her softly, seeing her motion.

"Give us an hour's rest and we'll be ready for combat," Arbalet finished.

Saetta stood with a satisfied huff. "I'd like to go over your armor and weapons before we go into combat. There's not much I can do, but I can at least make sure nothing's too damaged."

"It's very much appreciated," Arbalet assured him.

As Jordan listened, Prowl and Jazz led the charge in the discussion. How many jets were under Arbalet's command? What were their alternate forms? Their strengths? Their skill sets?

Keeping her earpiece in, Jordan disconnected her throat mic and smiled apologetically when Saetta and Armonie glanced at her. "I'm more of a gun kind of person - just point and shoot. All of this planning and tactician-ing makes my blood curdle."

Armonie laughed though the skin around her eyes was tight; she was still tense, a coiled spring ready to explode. "I get that," she said. "It's nice to have someone else plan everything."

Cautiously, Jordan glanced at Saetta and then the rest of the group. Their heads were bent over Raoul's holographic map, outlining areas for Hound to scout, the landing areas that the spy had marked out for the jets to land, and all of the other little details that escaped Jordan's simple kind of thought process. It made her head spin.

Armonie's eyes softened slightly. "The Guardian Gestalt...they weren't used to being around humans or on Earth. For that alone I had to guide them and determine what courses of action would best suit all of us." She stood and handed Jordan a pair of gloves. "Gloves last. What do you think?"

"My thoughts about how hot this armor is would be too vulgar for the delicate ears we have nearby." Jordan said dryly. Hound barked a laugh as he began to drive away and Prowl, knowing that she was referring to him, glared at her. "Good hunting, Hound!"

The holoform of the geology professor waved a massive arm out the window as he rolled out. Armonie knocked a knuckle against one of the armor pads over Jordan's stomach. "If it's anything like the set I have, it will stop most things that'll come for you. The undersuit is meant to keep you either warm or cool based on your core temperature."

Jordan snorted. "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that."

But Armonie was already shaking her head. "I said that too," she admitted. "But it's saved me more than I would like to admit." Jordan ignored the question of how she may have been in more than one situation in the past few months, during the time of her family's murder and her vengeance-fueled rampage. "It will do you good too."

Prowl walked a circuit around Jordan, eyeing her critically. He did the same thing whenever they suited up for a particularly dangerous walk or those few times they had been called to break up fights. No matter how much she insisted that she could - and have, in the past - arm herself, he still did so every time. He had already learned once how fragile she was.

"Arbalet," Armonie was saying over the comms as she began to strip and don her own armor. Hot Rod's form blurred, became a writhing mass of blobby shadow, before settling on the dead-eyed teenager. He reached the straps she would have difficulty on and tugged where needed to get everything to sit right. "Is that name what you would still like to be called?"

The jet laughed over their comms. "We had been speaking about that, actually," he admitted. "Our names in Russia were well enough, but we all feel like that should change - we're not going to be the same mechs we were in Russia." Jordan noticed that Saetta winced at that. Seeing her watching him, he looked away quickly, focusing on whatever work he was doing on the helmet in his hands. "I figured that I should pick something that would remind me of the kind of mech that I want to be."

"Noble," Raoul drawled. Like Armonie, he didn't speak out loud; it made Jordan feel lonely to be the only one unable to speak like that.

Arbalet chuckled. "I like the sound of my name now...so I caved in and chose something that matched...just a bit."

Apparently finished with his inspection of Jordan, Prowl nodded once. "It'll do," he decided, the very slight softening of his holoform's eyes the only sign Jordan had that he was relieved with the measures for her safety. It gave her heart and she gave him a shaky smile, tapping her knuckles against the metal plate in her skull. He scowled at her and stalked off like an affronted cat.

Saetta handed her the helmet he had been tinkering with. "Your mic will be transferred in here and I've also implanted a simple HUD in there for you. It will automatically switch between IR, 'night vision', and a few other visual spectrums."

At his nod, she tucked her head and hair into the helmet. It fit like a motorcycle helmet, padded on the inside and as she slid it into place, she caught sight of the microphone and speaker that Saetta was talking about. Moving around her, Saetta wrapped an armored gorget around her neck, fitting it under the back of the helmet and under the high collar of her undersuit. Small metal plates were cold against her skin for a brief moment before they warmed with contact against her skin.

The engineer gestured to them as he fastened the gorget to the undersuit to keep it from moving around. "These plates will...for lack of a better descriptor, pick up your brain waves." Jordan fought back a chuckle - it sounded very corny, like something out of an old science fiction movie from the '80's. "I know," he said with a shy smile. "But it will automatically toggle between the views you need based on the strain it feels in your eyes. I took out IR feeds because I'm not sure how to get it to work for you."

"I have an IR feed in mine, though," Armonie told Jordan, holding her arms over her head while Hot Rod's dead-eyed holoform pulled her armored vest over her shoulders. "You and I will be sticking together regardless of what anyone else says."

Jordan nodded - she had expected to pair off with Armonie despite any misgivings that Prowl or Hot Rod may have to that course of action: Armonie had experience as a human fighting Decepticons; Jordan had experience as a human defending herself. She had a feeling that they would do very well together.

Satisfied at least temporarily with Jordan and Armonie's armor, Saetta announced out loud that he intended to go over everyone's armor and weapons to make sure everything was up to par and make adjustments if he could.

"What did you decide on?" Raoul asked, his holoform rolling his eyes as only a hipster could.

Arbalet chuckled again. "I rather liked the sound of Silverbolt."

So I probably won't be uploading anything else this weekend. I'll try, but I can't promise anything since I'll be at Lehigh for a football game on Saturday and on Sunday I'll be at Retrocon with some of my friends.

Until next time!

~DC