Confidence Game

Chapter 21: Driving Concerns

By: Mooncrossed

Yay! October's here! In case you haven't noticed, my favorite time of the year is Autumn. I'd like to thank Cybernetic Orange for her review (Interesting theory, only time will reveal the truth. By the way, is it okay if I shorten your penname to Cyber?), and Screamer (Yup, those nasty airbags are a real hazard aren't they? Especially with Swindle!) This past week has been really hectic, but I've survived. Many thanks go out to my Dad (who proofread), and God (who provided all the inspiration for this chapter.) I don't own Paco's Tacos (Just in case there is an eatery called that), Transformers, or Mitsubishi.

At a lonely drive-up window somewhere in Detroit…

Doug stifled a yawn as he did his level best to lounge on top of his company chair. He couldn't help it. At two in the morning, with the last customer having left hours ago, he had nothing to do. Everything was already cleaned, the money had been counted and re-counted, and he still had another four hours of this to go. Night shifts was the worst time slot to occupy. Just as he was nearly asleep, a violently loud car engine startled him into falling to the floor. "Yes?" The acne scarred twenty year old winced at how high and squeaky his voice sounded, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Ahem! I mean, yes? W-welcome to Paco's Tacos! Open twenty-four/seven, rain or shine… May I take your order?" Squinting through the miserable camera feed, he barely made out a broad car hood the color of spoiled meat, with the Mitsubishi Emblem emblazoned on the front. It revved a little further into view.

"Why, yes," a smooth voice purred back. "I'd like to have the Mega-Deluxe Meal… but substitute a bottle of water in place of the soda, if you'd be so kind…"

Tapering off abruptly, whoever it was seemed to hesitate, which Doug found odd for such a confident sounding man. Dutifully typing in the order, and stifling another yawn, he requested by rote, "And do yah want extra cheese and barn-burner salsa with your order?"

"Ugh!" The entire car seemed to shudder as if it was being jostled by a sumo-wrestler. "No!" Pausing again, the customer continued to talk to seemingly no-one. "What? How can you eat such disgusting byproducts? You do know where cheese comes from, don't you?" Another pause ensued while Doug attempted to see through the heavily darkened windows of the car via his rain drenched TV screen. He was no cop, but that sure didn't look very legal "Oh, alright! Lousy organic, okay we'll… I mean I will have four packets of salsa and…" Yet again, the car shuddered, this time even more violently. "Extra cheese."

'Must have a passenger,' Doug decided as he sleepily rubbed one bleary eye. "Okay, yah ordered one Mega-Deluxe Meal with extra cheese, and a substitution of water in place of the drink. Would yah like to have some churros as well?"

Another hesitation solidified Doug's suspicions that the dude had somebody else in there with him. He didn't know why, but that ugly green car disturbed him on some level. "No, but thank-you for the offer."

Dutifully feeding the amount presented onto his cash register, he sent the order in for the night shift cook, Frannie. Each of them had to serve a stint on in this time slot at least once a month, and it just so happened that the two of them were the unlucky winners. It was only after the ugly green Mitsubishi continued on down the drive up lane that it occurred to him what had seemed so odd about it: those pitch black windows had never rolled down. "Yo, Doug, look alive," Frannie snapped, jarring him from his thoughts. A lumpy bag of Mexican food slid down the countertop and he barely caught it before it could dump all over the floor. The forty-ish woman scowled at him from beneath her oversized hairnet. "If the manager catches yah napping again, he'll can yah!" Turning and mumbling to herself, she wandered back into the kitchen to resume her guardianship of an empty stove.

Rolling his faded blue eyes, he called back, "Thanks, Frannie," before quickly shoving a blind handful of salsa packets into the bag. He turned, only find a seatbelt buckle scant inches from his nose. Frozen, he stared at the odd sight, only to leap back with a shout when it violently rattled. The belt followed, serpentine and sinuous, staying disturbingly close. "F-Frannie!" Disbelievingly, he dragged his gaze back to the abandoned bag of food, which was currently being nosed open by another curious belt. "H-hey, get away from that…" His own personal tormentor abruptly clicked metal parts menacingly and pressed in close. "O-or, or not… It's your call."

In a state of disbelief, he watched the other belt slide back out of the bag, apparently satisfied, and triple wrap it's length around it's top in a swift stranglehold. Doug winced at the crunch of paper. With a sudden zip, the entire snakelike length slid back out of his drive up window. The belt holding him at bay rattled its buckle warningly, before it too went whipping after it's partner. Swallowing his fright, the restaurant employee raced to the opening just in time to witness the ugly green car speed away through the rain at well over one-hundred miles an hour. "Doug, what's wrong with yah?" He jumped and spun around to be confronted by a disgruntled short order chef. She scowled at him in consternation. "Yah look as white as a sheet."

Opening and closing his mouth for a moment, Doug at last found his voice. "Frannie, I think we just got robbed."

On a road several blocks away…

Meanwhile, Cassidy was choking on her laughter. She felt sorry for the guy. Who wouldn't? Especially since she had been on the receiving end more than once. Letting out a snicker, the brunet mused, 'Poor bastard. He'll never want to work in fast-food again.' Then another thought occurred to her as she opened up her bag of ill-gotten goods. "I hope yah realize yah just started an urban legend," she informed him as she took her first bite into her burrito. "The phantom car with snakes for seatbelts and fire in it's tailpipes! Late at night, it appears like a ghost to steal the souls of hapless drive up guys. Beware…"

"Oh, brother," Swindle groaned at the sappy horror script assailing his audios. At last finished erasing the last twenty minutes of the drive-up camera feeds, he backed out of it's systems. Sneaking a belt around the femme, he firmly strapped her in place. "Stick to acting, Kid. You make a horrible writer. And chew with your mouth closed!" He shuddered and averted his optics when the organic took another bite. Needless to say, they had mended their differences after the airbag incident, though Swindle planned on keeping a recording for future posterity. Nothing gained cooperation like the threat of mass humiliation via the internet. Now that the activity of fleshy feeding had been taken care of, he was focused on a different matter. So far, he'd had a grand total of nine hours of rest over the course of the past three days, and frankly he was feeling bushed. Sensors scanned his surroundings, and at last discovered a likely candidate: the abandoned parking garage of a closed down department store. Perfect, in that, it had hundreds of exits, a severe lack of fleshlings to disturb him, was reasonably well hidden, and kept him out of the nearly constant torrential downpour. Slowing down, he relished the lack of water on his frame. The Mitsubishi shook himself vigorously before rapidly scanning his surroundings for the best location to take a power nap.

Scowling, Cassidy shifted beneath the seatbelt that loved to fondle. This, on top of the airbag incident, the initial kidnapping, and the property damage, was inspirational toward some of her most vindictive plots. 'He is so going down,' she reflected contemplatively as she took another bite of burrito. 'The trick is, how do I do it? I want it to be humiliating and painful… yet preventative toward future retaliation.' She was so busy concocting the finer points of her revenge plans that she didn't at first notice where they were headed. Not until concrete stretched on overhead a monotonous view of painted lines and dirty orange courtesy lights, did she dare to say anything. "Hey, what are we doing here?" Everything around her shook earthquake-like, making her tense in her seat.

"Mmph," the Cybertronian groaned, stretching on his chassis. "I don't know about you, but I am in serious need of a good night's rest." He carefully extended his windshield wipers, before giving each side view mirror a thorough rotation. Too bad I can't transform, he regretfully thought as he continued a vehicular version of stretching before bed. It's just too risky on such a primitive low-tech planet. Probably wake up half dismantled with my parts on display in a museum somewhere… Since the femme appeared to be finished with her meal, he simply dropped the remains into his subspace dimension. All in all, it had been a disheartening day. Every location his target tended to frequent was abandoned, every police report on the gang that the Archer ran with were too vague to be of any use.

Cassidy blinked owlishly when her bag of Mexican food mysteriously vanished. She wasn't sure, but hadn't there been another taco in there? Undoing the perverted belt, she checked under the chair seat. 'Nope, not there either… So where would it be?' Then she recalled the last place she had set down the bag and scowled at the perfectly innocent chair seat next to her, the one with an inter-dimensional portal in the bottom. "I wasn't done eating," she complained, batting away a stray seatbelt. "And yah want me to sleep now? Midnight hasn't even rolled around yet." Despite her words, the brunet resignedly hauled herself into the back seat.

Flicking off his headlights, he began the process of powering down for the night. This included cutting all power to internal systems. He wouldn't be surprised if she tried to use his cigarette lighter to burn a distress call into his windows while he slept. Swindle snorted as the little fleshling knocked one of his belts aside, before retaliating with a casual swat of his own. Still, he automatically made room for her on his back seat by tucking his belts away and relaxing his chair springs. If he ever realized how much he was becoming used to having a fleshling companion, the Decepticon would have been appalled. In his processor was the solid belief that the fleshling would go the instant the assignment was finished… sure. "Because you have terrible table manners," he answered before sarcastically adding, "Do you want me to read you a bedtime story? I know several that would knock you unconscious in no time."

"Nope," she replied as she attempted to make herself comfortable. "With my luck, it would be stock report statistics." So far, she'd discovered that if the seatbelts weren't in the way, then her arms were. 'Who was the wise guy that decided to make car seats so narrow anyway,' she silently moaned as she accidentally banged an elbow again.

"Don't tempt me," he tossed back. After a last minute scan of his surroundings, (Hey, in his line of work, it paid to be paranoid), he powered down. Just as before, not a light twinkled, nor did a part twitch. The only sign of life left was the occasional soft gust of recycled air from the Mitsubishi's intakes. To anyone watching, he was dead to the world. Hopefully, he'd achieve his new planetary goal: recharge longer than seven hours in a single sitting.

Despite her misgivings, she continued to lay on the mottled gray upholstery, waiting. Time passed by slowly. Another sigh escaped her lips as she attempted to relax stiff shoulders, and tried to give herself advice on how to get to sleep. 'Maybe if I just stare at something extremely boring… this chair-back for example, I'll drop off in no time!' Flexing her shoulders uncomfortably, she tried a new position.

Twitching, the brunet rubbed her face. The main problem was, her ribs hurt something awful, like she was laying on a baseball. She checked to make sure Rover wasn't there. No little green ball, no croaking green-tongued smile. 'Well, good. Hate to be responsible for injuring the little guy.' Sighing again when that baseball feeling came back ten fold, Cass chose a different position. 'Now I can stare at the back-rest of the bench seat,' she sarcastically cheered. 'Oh, joy!' Soon, she had mapped out every square inch of the object in front of her, right down to how many buttons were in the upholstery, and she was still awake.

"STOP IT!" The full volume bellow of Cybertronian vocals was frightening in intensity. Was it any wonder that the organic involuntarily jumped and clutched her ears in agony? Every light in front of the car lit with hellish fury, stinging her eyes. Much more softly, he muttered to himself in his native tongue, "It's getting so that a mech can't get any decent recharge around here…" Letting out a final huff of recycled air, he powered down again, this time leaving behind a number display: 11:52 PM.

Minutes ticked by. Rolling over again, the brunet attempted to ignore her new nightlight. Evil little electronic numbers bore into the back of her skull, taunting her with the time even if she refused to look. She'd given up counting sheep when the fluffy critters had started toting guns. Cassidy's eyes popped open in disbelief. 'It's official,' she decided silently even as she tried to snuggle deeper into a seat cushion that she could swear was breathing. 'I've spent too much time around Swindle.' Absently, she removed a piece of lint from the featureless gray material in front of her. Instead, the brunet decided to devote her time toward coming up with a plan that was so ingenious, so unexpected, so well thought out, that there was no way her captor would ever find her again! Unfortunately, this plan had the same flaw in it as all the others: She had no idea how to get out of the car to begin with. 'If I could just find some method of slipping away…'

"I said stop it," the huckster exclaimed. He'd been sitting there, listening to the fleshy talk about sheep and guns under her breath, not that he'd wanted to. Now she was picking lint out of his upholstery, and it tickled! He squirmed and swatted her with the nearest belt to make her stop. If she made him giggle, he'd never live it down!

"OW," Cass squawked at the point of impact before turning a heated glare on his radio. "What'd I do?"

"You know exactly what you did," Swindle declared self righteously. "So stop it!" Was he in any way childish about this? Why, no! Even if he did reel every belt he owned back into it's housing with a definitive snap, like a sparkling in the middle of a pouting session. No, there was absolutely no immature behavior in sight! All I want to do is have an entire recharge cycle to myself, he moaned to the universe in general. Is that too much to ask? A squirming organic in his back seat was his answer. Powering on a single amber light in the center of his dashboard, he silently dared her to try that again.

Stiffening, Cassidy very cautiously glanced back despite the throb of abused ribs. 'Is it my imagination, or is that light glaring at me?' For a long moment, she stared back, getting the impression that, 'Yes, I am being glared at by an alien car… Has he completely lost it?' Still, she didn't look away, and that single electronic light refused to shut off. This staring contest would have lasted for hours if two things hadn't happened. One: Swindle sighed yet again, this time in heated exasperation, and two: Rover woke up.

The canine amphibian had been peacefully napping for close to five hours and would have quite happily slept on for another day and a half if it wasn't for the nearly constant airflow gusting from the car's air-conditioning vents. At last, tired and cranky from having his frills dried to the point of itching, he sauntered out into the open from his nest beneath the driver's side chair. Human and Decepticon focused on him in startled surprise, having forgotten all about him in the days excitement. Blinking sleepily, Rover looked from car radio to human before unleashing his secret weapon. Opening his big toothless mouth as wide as it would go… he yawned. Then, satisfied he'd brought his point across, he meandered back underneath his chair and fell asleep.

'Uh, oh,' Cassidy panicked even as she could feel her own face react accordingly. 'The little creep did it on purpose!' Even knowing that it was coming couldn't completely prevent it from happening. Despite her best efforts, her mouth still opened in a return yawn. Sending a glare after the little green alien, she scowled as she felt just a little more relaxed. 'I'm a night-owl, and proud of it! If I fall asleep now, I'll loose my reputation!'

"Now why can't you be like that?" Oblivious to her dilemma, Swindle watched the little house pet's retreat. "There's an organic that can sleep like there's no tomorrow, and…" Catching sight of her facial movements, the trades-mech instantly focused every sensor on her face, her vitals, and the air around her. It looks almost as if she was in pain… I'd better perform a rapid scan, just to make sure…

Cass jumped at the unexpected sensation of electricity skittering across her skin. "Hey! I have no idea what you're doing, Pal, but stop it!" She batted at the air in emphasis of how much she hated having her clothes and hair turn into a temporary magnet, before rolling over and huddling up on the bench seat.

No, he decided after a careful study of the brunet's internals. There aren't any injuries aside from the ones I already know about. So why was she… He puzzled over the organic's odd behavior, studying previous records in an effort to pinpoint what had started it. Noting that Rover had also been engaging in this odd face stretching activity, he at last decided to give voice to his curiosity. After all, if it was life threatening, he above all beings had a right to know. If she died, the residue would be the Pit to remove from his upholstery. "What was that?"

"Mph," the brunet commented, doing her best to appear dog tired. A hard poke from a glinting buckle proved who was more determined to get answers. "What!" Patiently, he repeated himself Corrosively glaring at his radio, she gritted out, "It was nothing, now go away!"

Another hard jab nudged her left shoulder. "It wasn't 'nothing,' and it's disturbing seeing someone's face stretch like that," he complained. Of course, his HUD had already launched a data search, but without any word prompts, it was slow going. Observing the organic that was currently attempting to bury herself head first into his back seat, he absently commented, "By the way, if you keep attempting to recharge that way, you'll probably suffocate." Waving one arm in a distinctive, 'Go away,' gesture, she burrowed deeper. He snorted derisively, before checking back on the Internet search. "If you were a good little Human," he coaxed winningly. "You could just tell me… I'd like to know if some harmless little contagion is about to kill you."

At last, having heard enough, and really needing a breath of fresh air, she sat up. "Oh, all right," Cassidy declared, petulantly rolling her eyes. "It's called a yawn! Satisfied?"

Instantly, the sales-mech located the information and read everything concerning the subject in eighteen seconds, right down to the medical text. "Well…," he began before pausing as he re-read certain key articles. Frankly, he found the activity fascinating.

Cass stared, waiting for the flood of words designed to make her scream in frustration.

"So you use that sort of method to boost oxygen levels when they get too low?" He cast a jaundiced optical sensor her way before re-reading another highlight of such an alien activity. "And it is generally a precursor to sleep or awakening, as well as being a contagious action?" Suddenly adopting a much warmer praiseworthy tone, he focused on the location of a quietly snoozing frog-dog. "All I have to say to that is: Good job Rover!"

Groaning, Cassidy covered her face. "Why did I know you'd say that?"

"What an inventive organic," he continued to praise right over the brunet's criticism. "He's obedient and knows just what it takes to go into recharge when I want him to!"

Giving his front console a disbelieving glance, she demanded, "And what else does he do? I mean, please! That little Gila-monster…"

"Grrbreazzzzrg," Swindle corrected.

"Whatever," she automatically replied. "My point is, that animal sleeps as much as a pet rock, and…" She trailed off as a new thought entered her mind. Her voice scarcely above a chill whisper, she warned, "You had better not be implying that I'm a pet."

With metaphorical suddenness, a halo seemed to pop innocently into existence over Swindle's dashboard. "Who me?"

Emotionless and deadly, she continued. "Because the instant you do, your seat cushions are transforming their way into the nearest dumpster."

Swindle watched in amazement as the teenaged girl went from a timid and somewhat goofy organic, to a fierce and okay, downright terrifying little organic. The trades-mech could have sworn she doubled in size, and he could well remember her sharp little fleshling claws. Having an inkling that over this issue at least, he would probably loose, the Decepticon rapidly changed tactics. He liked his parts exactly where they were. "I solemnly swear to you, I see you as nothing less than an employee." She raised one dark eyebrow skeptically. "A reluctant employee," he amended. "Alright, one that's extremely contrary."

"Say it with me," the brunet patiently explained like a parent attempting to correct a toddler's misconceptions. "The word is 'hostage.' I'll bet we could even spell it! H-O-S-T…"

"But it's such a negative word," he plaintively interrupted her. Much to his amusement, he watched the femme's mouth drop open to argue with him, then close, then open again with a new verbal lashing that also didn't seem to meet her standards of punishment. There are certain reactions a mech just can't buy, Swindle thought smugly to himself. As Cassidy sat back and pouted her defeat, he cheerfully concluded that this was one of them. All sensors returned to the organic as she performed another one of those face stretching actions despite her best efforts against it. Seeming to realize she was being observed, she shot a withering glare his way. It took effort, but he managed to internalize the laughter that was threatening to come out, concluding that he owed Rover a few good treats for this. After a quick addendum to his priority list to do just that, he then spent a moment backtracking in his audio files for one very special sound, an organic sound, a yawning sound. Setting it to repeat continuously, he lowered his radio volume, and hit play. Entertainingly, she reacted almost immediately. Out loud, he commented to the femme, "There is something I've been meaning to ask you about…"

In the midst of another yawn, she squinted one eye at the robot's radio dial. "Wh-what?" She could swear, her ears just popped. It might be because she was working her jaw… or because a certain someone of the robotic variety was laughing at her. Her suspicious glare was somewhat ruined by yet another instinctive sleep filled reaction. 'Stupid Rover, this is all his fault!'

Snickering again, the Decepticon dared to boost the volume just a touch. Then he sat back to watch the show. "I've always wondered, why is you're family is so different?"

Somewhat muzzy, the femme gazed at his radio dial incredulously. Issuing a tired glare, she did her best to think. Cass hadn't missed that little snicker just now. He was trying to pull something… but what. Yawning again, she felt like cursing. She was a freaking night owl, not a farm girl! If she dropped off now, she'd never live it down! "Different how?"

"Well, it is sort of strange that you'd declare organics you weren't even related to as kin…" Swindle politely waited for her to accomplish another sleep inducing yawn before continuing. "I've seen you use blackmail as a form of entertainment with your brother. It's just nothing like what you're television shows depict." Smugly, he trailed off as the femme fought to stay awake enough to answer him. This is wonderful, the Decepticon decided. It works just as well as knockout gas, he silently enthused. And it doesn't even leave a scent residue in my interior, he practically shouted in his own private infomercial. I might even be able to sell the recording to Megatron's forces for an inflated rate! He was so giddy over the possibility of making up for his lost inventory!

Cassidy's eyes fluttered open slightly at a sound that she could swear came straight out of a cash register, sort of a 'cha-ching' noise. 'But that's ridiculous… YAWN! And besides, he was saying something… Oh, yeah!' Shaking her head to rid her brain of the gathering cobwebs, she gave him her answer. "Well there's your problem, Hon! Television isn't real life… yawn… It's entertainment, end of story." Giving him a lopsided grin, she mockingly patted one of his seat cushions pityingly. "Sorry to shatter you're innocence." The fact that she was more laying down now rather than sitting didn't even register.

"Letting out a snort at her answer, he slightly jogged his seat to help her the rest of the way down onto his bench seat. "I know it isn't real," he chided. "Cybertronian channels are just as misleading… But why do you do it." The fact that his belts were now helpfully situating sprawled out legs and arms into a much more relaxing posture wasn't even noticed, especially since she was yawning again. Just to make sure, he relaxed his chair springs to ensure extra comfort.

"Survival…in numbers," she sighed, her eyes drifting closed. Now most of the way to dreamland, Cassidy wasn't even aware of the words spilling from her mouth. If she had been… well, let's just say she would have been mortified. Then, if that wasn't enough, right before sleep took her, she said the last thing a sneaky Decepticon like Swindle should ever hear. "I miss my Grampa…" Her words trailing off into an exhausted whisper of sound before fading from existence completely.

The Autobot Base at four O'clock in the morning…

Prowl studied the holographic map floating in front of him carefully. It concisely presented Swindle's movements from the first moment he made landfall so many months ago, up to the present day and his current schemes. Precisely compiled reports chattered over his audios, baffling stories of a car that grew an arm out of it's door frame and caught a woman before she could plummet to her death off of a building… Or the sworn declaration that a homeless man gave of a car driving by itself with a teenaged girl sitting in the passenger seat. Still others came from an outraged trucker who's diesel engine had been shot out by some dumpy little Mitsubishi armed with a futuristic ray gun. The ninja-Bot's helm rose as the most recent report streamed in from an organic feeding station called Paco's Tacos, of a car with "Freaky belts that behaved like snakes, man!" Since cameras were severely malfunctioning at the time of the theft, it was assumed to be the workings of an overactive imagination coupled with the late hour.

Superseded over that was all the information the shipboard computers had possessed on the Decepticon's past behavior. Now, with his long narrow helm tilted and his pale blue visor coldly gleaming, he studied the accumulated data. A pattern was presenting itself to his CPU, one that told him precisely where his target would most likely go in the foreseeable future. At last shutting down the display, he rose to his full spindly height and silently stalked away. The others were either bedridden or recharging, and he felt personally responsible for the debacle of today. Thus, he was extra careful to avoid disturbing his teammates as he slipped out of the base. All his data showed that there was an eighty-six percent probability that Swindle would choose to hole up in one exact location: an old abandoned parking garage.

He was unaware of the Decepticon sensors trained on his form, nor was he cognizant of the triple-changer that diverted course and began following from high above. Blitzwing had decided that since the Autobots and the organics were both actively searching for his quarry, why should he? It was far easier to let the others do all the work and reap the rewards. Some might consider him lazy or opportunistic; he preferred to call it intelligent behavior. On silent wings, with stars and low lying clouds silhouetting his form, he trailed after the lone enemy ground-pounder.

Meanwhile, in that same underground parking structure…

It was some time around four in the morning when Cassidy opened her eyes to a world bathed in amber lights and shadows. She blinked. Even now, it was disturbingly apparent that the car was alive. Seatbelts twitched, wall panels pulsed with warmth, and a subtle inhale and exhale flowed through the air conditioning vents. Naturally, she did her best to ignore those aspects of the vehicle she was trapped within, but moments like now tended to increase her awareness tenfold. As she sat there, being reminded more and more of fairytales with giant monsters, the brunet wondered, 'Why didn't I notice this before I was kidnapped? Am I really that oblivious to my surroundings?' The teenager shuddered only to freeze when the seat cushion beneath her tensed, the chair springs nowhere near as comfortable as a second ago. At last, the upholstery softened and Cass let the breath out that she'd been holding. Slowly, careful to avoid disturbing anything further, she pushed herself into a sitting position. There was no way she could fall asleep now.

With warm chemical scented air wafting through the car vents, and silver belt buckles occasionally flexing in the faint light, it was only then that she noticed it. There was a sound, an odd sort of noise that rhythmically rose and fell with faint persistence. Was it coming from the radio? Easing herself off of the bench seat, she cautiously settled on the center consol. Yes, it was coming from there, yet it was too faint for her to make out from here. Pulling her legs in, she swiveled until she was sitting directly in front of it. Sometime during the night the dashboard lights had gone out, yet that noise still persisted, sort of a nearly continuous rush of air. Crouching next to the radio dial, and careful to avoid touching any buttons, she listened. Only when she found herself in the midst of yet another jaw popping yawn did she recognized exactly what she was listening to. "Sneaky bastard," she hissed vehemently.

Drowsy sounding whirrs and beeps filled the air, the mumbling of a Cybertronian in deep recharge. Cassidy was too annoyed to care. So there she sat, perched on the center console, fighting to stay awake despite the soft breathy sighs of pre-recorded yawns, and wishing all sorts of unpleasant destinations for the Decepticon's many parts. At this moment, Rover uncurled and showed his froggy face. Noticing the disgruntled sleepy alien tottling out into the open, the brunet smiled despite herself. Carefully reaching down, she gently rubbed his green scaled head. His eyes half lidded, and his skin frills rising in pleasure, Rover croaked his contentment before yawning and ambling back into his nest. Shaking her head, the seventeen year old mused, 'The little guy could probably sleep his way through a nuclear explosion if you let him.' Then she blinked as a new thought entered her head. 'Just how deep does Swindle sleep, anyway?'

Glancing warily around the car, she subtly retrieved her sneakers from the floor of the back seat. More disembodied mumbles in an alien tongue drifted up over the Mitsubishi speakers, accompanied by a seatbelt twitch. She froze, but when no further actions occurred, she continued. As silently as possible, she shoved her left foot into the necessary shoe and quickly tied the laces. This was all well and good, until she set that foot back on the ground. "Bzzz, hum-afer-mulla-ter-weeeep…," grumbled an alien voice. Cassidy sat frozen for a long tense moment, listening to the unnatural electronic noises die down to a whisper. Tension leached from the air and she sagged in relief, then she tackled the other shoe. At last properly shod, she studied the next step: a perfectly innocent looking gray colored car seat. Not daring to breath, she carefully eased herself down into the plush upholstery. Chair springs obligingly sank under her weight, seemingly oblivious to the human that was now resting upon it's surface. Still, she remained watchful, eyes flickering over wavering seatbelts and rippling cloth seats.

At last deeming it safe, the brunet cast her eyes upon the final leg of the journey. A car door waited, simple and unassuming. Swallowing, she cautiously reaching out, her fingers barely brushed the door lock. Chair springs bunched underneath her, lifting her involuntarily two inches higher, and she bit her tongue to avoid crying out in alarm. Absolutely frozen, terrified to so much as flinch, she waited on top of her mound of overly tense upholstery for the inevitable moment that he would awaken. Several minutes passed, until miracle of miracles, the surface relaxed back into it's previous state of sleepy oblivion. Sagging in place, her hand still gripping the door lock, she spent a moment trying to calm down. 'That was too close,' she decided, letting out a relieved breath. 'And I've barely gotten started.' Nervously eying the dormant radio console, ready to bolt at a moments notice, she gently, oh so carefully, eased that lock on up. The unexpectedly loud thud of a door lock deactivating made her hair stand on end.

"Whirr-buzz-grrruzz-org…" Every single seatbelt Swindle had extended in a long luxurious stretch. White faced, Cassidy watched that endless sea of encroaching nylon in mounting alarm, helpless to evade their careless reach. At last, pinned back against the glove compartment she cringed, expecting the worst. Instead, with a final wriggle, every buckle glinting, they all slipped back into their housings without touching her. She flinched one eye open. Perfectly empty air greeted her. Disbelievingly, she opened both eyes. An ordinary car greeted her vision, accompanied by the gust of sighing vents. "Gorrubllzzzig…," Swindle mumbled.

Now beyond paranoid, she eyed that last obstacle: the handle. It's stainless steel gleam seemed to taunt her. It was only the fact that the door was still unlocked that convinced her to even try. Biting her lip, she reached out and gingerly wrapped her clammy fingers around the handle. Nothing further occurred as she gently pulled. With a barely heard click, the door opened. What was presented for her hungry gaze, was an empty, poorly lit underground parking lot, with oil stains in nearly every parking space, and rough cut cinderblock walls. Cass didn't care. No matter what form it came in, freedom was always beautiful! Yet, she still waited. Aside from a soft electronic mumble and the slight flick of a windshield wiper, there was no reaction.

Hunched over like an animal, desperate not to touch any more than necessary, she edged toward the door. Ready to bolt at the slightest signal, she eased one foot out onto solid concrete. When nothing occurred, she slowly climbed the rest of the way down. At last, she had both sneakers planted firmly upon the hard ground. It was with a feeling of triumph that she gazed upon a world that wasn't tinted by alien windows! 'Yes,' the brunet mentally cheered as she began swiftly, if quietly, creeping for the stairwell door. 'Now I've got to find a pay-phone and a nice distant hiding place. Then I can let my folks know every sordid detail of what this bastard has been doing, and then…' She froze. For a long still minute she stared unseeingly at the view up ahead, before one single heartfelt curse fell from her lips. Dropping her gaze, she saw what had just wrapped around her ankle: a seatbelt. Turning, her gaze followed that telltale length of gray nylon to it's inevitable source: an innocently parked Mitsubishi Gallant. Cassidy cursed again, vehemently.

Sleepily amused, Swindle mumbled, "Going somewhere, Sweetheart?"