Chapter 11: Through Europe With Hate, Part 1
Gabor Building Penthouse Office, Los Angeles– approx. one week after Ellingson rescue mission
"So, I take it you're the people that Doctor Armstrong told me about," an older looking man in a particularly expensive suit said as he looked the Reds and Blues over.
"Got it in one, Harv," Sarge replied, taking a seat in front of the billionaire's desk. "Speaking of, what happened to old Herc?"
"He decided to go back to work for the USGS– said something about it being safer. And just so we're clear, it's 'Mister Gabor'."
"Yeah, whatever," Church butted in. "Just tell us what you want us to do and what you're paying us to do it so we can tell you to get st–"
"Dude, cool it," Tucker interrupted, putting a hand over his cohort's mouth. "Anyways, what's the job?"
"Bodyguard work," Harvey replied. "As for pay, how does office space in this building sound?"
Church made a muffled noise that vaguely sounded like 'What's the catch?'
Harvey sighed. "Do any of you have any significant experience in the field of babysitting?"
Grif and Donut each raised their hands.
"Good luck to the both of you," Harvey grimly said. "You're going to need it."
LAX– the next morning
"Talk about moving up in the world!" Donut exclaimed as he and Grif walked up to a waiting Learjet. "I mean, a charter flight to Europe just for us? If you'd told me about this back at Burns Fl–"
"Let's celebrate after we get done with this, okay?" Grif replied. "Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, ditch that pink suit ASAP."
"It's not pink!" Donut protested. "It's lightish red!"
"Six of one, half-dozen of the other," came the retort.
Lowry Hotel, Manchester, United Kingdom– eight hours ahead
"Call from [Dad]."
A young woman with a head of dirty blonde hair and wearing a wrinkled black jacket and skirt groaned from her spot on the bed as she reached for her cellphone. "Whatever the tabloids are saying I did this time," she groggily moaned, "I didn't. I've been flying right since after what happened in Aberd–"
"I'm not calling about your behavior."
"Then what's the occasion?"
"Let's just say I've been made aware of some potential threats to your wellbeing."
The woman snorted. "And?"
"I think it'd be best if you had some protection."
"Define 'protection'."
"I've taken the liberty of hiring a couple of ex-military types to serve as bodyguards for you and your friend…Mary, is that it?"
The woman's eyes shot wide open. "You what?!"
"Given the state of things in the world right now, I–"
"I just got out of college! I can handle myself, and the last thing I want is you sending a couple of hired guns so you can spy on me!"
"It's for your own good, Phyllis!"
She clenched her teeth. "Fine– you win," she snarled. "But don't expect me to be happy about it!"
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
No, you didn't misread anything– the VIP that Grif and Donut have the dubious honor of protecting really is none other than Phyllis "Pizzazz" Gabor from Jem in all her petty, bratty glory. Also, before anyone asks, the Misfits haven't formed yet in this universe, meaning you won't be seeing Roxy or Jetta this time around. I might use them for another arc, but for the time being, it's just Pizzazz, a Stormer nearing the end of her tether, and two mercenaries on an extended trip across the European continent. As for where MECH's going to fit into things, all I'm going to say on the matter is that MECH's operations in Europe are an entirely different beast from what's been depicted in the previous arc, LuisJM's original "TFP: Season 3" fics", and in the actual Transformers: Prime TV show.
