The hours after that conversation were realizations that Roland knew that life would give him hell to pay if he wanted to undertake such a trip in short notice.

Contact information was exchanged. Roland couldn't help but be amused at how Smokescreen seemed to struggle (and be aghast) with the rather primitive technology that took the form of a phone that itself wasn't exactly a top-end product. He wasn't surprised at the reaction, though a part of him couldn't help but feel just a touch miffed given it was within his limited means. Still, at least there was some way to be able to keep in contact should the need arise, especially since arrangements would take a bit. Their conversation ended at the crack of dawn, Roland ceding that there was no way he was going to make it to work on time without some form of an explanation that would've been able to dodge the Cybertronian factor. He asked Smokescreen to take him to a local motel around Chicago when the Autobot's sensors detected increased police presence around his apartment that would make it hard to inconspicuously enter his home.

Damned if he did or damned if he didn't, there would be some questioning in the future somehow. Still, Smokescreen's attitude helped him relax somewhat as the Autobot dropped him off at the seedy and cheapest motel he could find.

"I'll hold ya to your offer, bud. Be safe, okay?"

The words haunted his mind as he contemplated what to do as checked himself into one of the available rooms, trying to shrug off the thought needing to check his financials as he handed whatever credit card was on his person to the receptionist. Maybe a hostel would've been a better idea, but the privacy of a room was something he needed. He would only need a night or two at most, that thought lingering in his mind as he tried to fight the temptation to sleep. It was a battle he had little chance of winning as he laid his exhausted back on the rather stiff bad, taking in the musty and ganky smell of the room. Sleep was about to beckon for him until he heard his phone ring off, a part of him wondering if it was Smokescreen calling him until he saw the familiar name of his boss on the screen.

William Shenandoah… of course his boss would have the temerity to call him at this hour.

It was a reminder of an unexplained absence at work, one that he was not going to be able to make up. He picked up the call only to be greeted with a cold greeting, waking up Roland from his near slumber. He fought through the pounding to prepare some sort of thin explanation.

"Roland, where the hell are you!? This is the second time this month you're late for 7 and without an explanation."

The stress in William's voice was unmistakable, the strain both in his tone and words cutting at the singer's mind as any explanations became far thinner when his recurring tardiness was brought up. The chances of it being highly likely a bad day at the supermarket he worked at were far higher. As much as he didn't like the prospect of work at market retail, largely in the sense that it was a neverending source of perpetual stress, he felt for the people that were higher up in the chain who didn't have fair compensation for the increased workload they undertook. He knew he was adding to that problem, especially given just how easily he could be replaced.

"I'm at a motel right now, William. I'm sorry about that, I know, I know. I'm not sure if I can come in today." He saw no other recourse but to be forthright to a boss that had been nothing but fair to him.

He could hear William utter a curse underneath his breath as the line fell to a thick silence for a few seconds. Roland could hear the rhythm of the supermarket's background and the feedback noise of this being a phone call made under hasty circumstances.

"You are on really thin ice right now, Roland. Listen, I like you, but you have got to get it together even when I know you're trying to make it out there. You have to make it in tomorrow at 7am, no questions asked."

"I know."

"Okay, I have to go. Talk to you soon."

And he felt terrible for uttering those two words to his boss, especially given his plans. The moment the line went dead, he surrendered himself to a fit of exhaustion that left him restless. Thoughts swirled in his head as to how seriously he should take his plans of taking on that road trip, which inevitably folded into the ethics of making promises that are far too big he could handle. Then there were thoughts of the minute chance he could even make it into that TV talent show he had in mind that was holding auditions in Los Angeles. The number of shoes that were waiting to drop in the road he sketched out were immense. He had no doubt that if the final shoe were to fall on his head, he would find himself stranded in Los Angeles in a state of inescapable penury.

Truly the artist's life… he wondered how to break even that kind of reality to Smokescreen.

It wasn't something he could or should worry about, given that the more important aspect was to get Smokescreen to the other side of the country to reunite him with what he assumed were the Autobot's allies.

Tired as he was, sleep was not coming to him. Staring into this phone wasn't helping matters, given that he needed to preserve this battery for as long as possible until it was safe to go back home. Even that was indeterminate, alongside a lot of aspects to how to execute the plan to get out of Illinois for good. Errant thoughts of printing out directions floated in Roland's mind, but granted, Smokescreen was hardly a typical car. Most of planning would fall onto his behest. However, much of what it would entail would mean giving up not just his job, but also packing, letting his landlord know that he was vacating his apartment, and being willing to let his belongings be destroyed. He could take what was left of his belongings, pack some clothes, and hope that Smokescreen was willing to tote around some luggage.

If he wanted to truly expedite the process, he could honestly leave as early as tomorrow morning. A to-do list began to form in the singer's mind as he stared into the ceiling. Cold feet and determination ran through him as he began to realize further what he had to truly give up making his plans with Smokescreen a possibility, but the thought of at least an immediate future that was different was enough for him to surrender his thoughts to sleep. As huge and foolish it all seemed, maybe there was nothing wrong with taking this chance and just… letting go.

The hell to pay was uncertainty, but it was a fact of life that he had lived with for so long.

Sleep would soon pass with Roland finding the afternoon sun blaring through his eyes. He was still in that same murky and cheap motel, his phone slowly running out of battery with notifications and missed calls aplenty. There were some from numbers he didn't recognize and he merely but buried them by swiping left, hoping they weren't someone important. He yawned as he assembled the to-do list in his mind… internet café first, then printing directions to Tranquility, then going to his apartment to pack. There were two things he needed to do before tonight at the very least in the hopes they would set him free for tomorrow afternoon. It sounded far more daunting now that Roland was a bit more lucid than before.

First was calling William again to let him know that he was going to be quitting, effective immediately. If he needed to, he'd get that notification in writing somehow. Maybe his computer back at the apartment was still working. Second, there was getting rid of his lease for good and planning another life anew. As strange as it was to be hyperaware of the extent that he was willing to uproot even the tiniest roots he placed in Chicago, there was also a strange fulfillment of at least trying to make good on his word.

Still, a part of him couldn't help but feel that there was something hasty about this. He knew that logically, he should be acting with far more caution and maybe trying to persuade Smokescreen to try and go on his own. As much of a carte blanche relative youth could be, how many people did he know his age took on road trips and lived to tell the tale? That was a rather dramatic way to put it across, but he knew that people just don't simply uproot their lives for merely no reason.

At the same time, he couldn't avoid the undeniable the dopamine rush that came with this line of thinking: honestly, fuck it.

With a smile, he rang up Smokescreen on his phone, hoping technological incompatibilities wouldn't hamper the one way he has of contacting his new… acquaintance? Friend? He wasn't sure what to call the Autobot. He was amused at how flaky he sounded over the other line even if Smokescreen was made and built with technologies far beyond what Roland would ever see in his lifetime.

"Roland, bud? This you? Everything good?"

"Yeah, it's me. Just woke up from some needed sleep. Just wanted to call you because I think I got a plan. It just entails you driving me around a bit, to an internet café specifically."

"Internet café… internet café… You know I probably have better internet than what you all have, right? Come on man, give me something here."

"I know, Smokescreen." He was almost tempted to call him 'hot shot' as he could hear the smirk in the Autobot's voice. However, he held off on the playful snark, especially since doing this in a way that doesn't entail too much haste would mean taking some time, and besides, he doubted Smokescreen would be able to print directions. "Some parts have to be a little bit more on the low technology end. Besides, I need a computer to submit a few things… It's not as simple as just my going into a car and leaving. I've been thinking since we talked."

"Oh? Explain. You and thinking sound like a pretty dangerous combo if I say so myself."

Roland almost guffawed at that. Well, he couldn't exactly refute the statement.

"Well, you're right." He began. As much as Smokescreen was adamant about pushing buttons even just lightly, he couldn't help but feel happy at hearing the light chuckle over the other line. "So, I'm planning on leaving Chicago for real. Forever actually." That felt so odd to say, especially so confidently. Smokescreen's brief silence let that fact hang for longer than it should've, causing the human to feel a light sense of anxiety claw at his chest.

"I…" The Autobot began. "I wasn't expecting that. Granted, now that I think about it… I should've seen this coming? A part of me has been thinking we should've actually tried to talk it through more. I'm sorry if I… pressured you." There was an uncertainty in his voice, so unlike the boisterous confidence that Smokescreen often exuded.

"Smokescreen… no worries, genuinely. You didn't pressure me. It's a long story but I've been looking into getting out of Chicago for a while. You… just gave me the confidence to actually go through with it sooner than later. Best explained in person than over the phone."

"Another long story of yours? I swear, for a species that doesn't live too long, it seems like you've got stories for eons. I think you could put some of the really old 'bots to shame."

"No, not a story this time. Well… kind of. Not sure if I should take that as an insult or compliment?..."

"I'm just teasing you, bud. Do you need me to come around now?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Cool, be there in about a breem. Maybe sooner."

The line had cut before Roland could even ask what that meant. He figured it was something in Cybertronian that he could ask for in a later date. He almost thought to just lie down to try and think more things through, whether it be trying to see how fast he could cancel his lease and put his things up for auction by force… that application to that TV talent show he really needed to send now if he was to have a shot at staking some permanence in the west coast.

He really was throwing away the last thread of stability that he was able to gleam since he was barely able to scrape by college. He thought his life was a modest one, but it wasn't until he had tabulated what he was willing to give up in a mental list that he realized that he was discarding to the wind was a foundation that allowed for basic survival. It was true that his income was only just enough to make sure that he was able to maintain his scraggy apartment, but even so, it was not as if he was making enough to save for some distant retirement (assuming he would even be able to do so). It was a paycheck-to-paycheck experience for as long as he has been in Chicago.

He just wished there wasn't so much uncertainty on the other side of the equation, but he wasn't able to put much thought into the lines he was willing to cross to uproot his life considering how fast breems would pass. As he would find out via a ping from his phone, Smokescreen's definition of the foreign term translated to rough 7 to 10 minutes; Roland wasn't sure of the specifics. He saw a simple text, 'already here,' which caused the singer to start making a beeline for outside as he also made a mental note to remember when he needed to check out of the motel.

It wouldn't be long until he bore witness to Smokescreen's alternate form. Under the daylight, he appeared as an incredibly ostentatious sports car with the shimmering silver and blue color scheme. There was a sleekness to the design that was aesthetically pleasing to the point where he was afraid of how car enthusiasts would've reacted to seeing an Autobot like this. Even as someone not well versed in cars, he couldn't help but feel a slight awe and reverence at such a design, a certain feeling in the back of his mind that he was only meant to gaze at such a sight but would never be allowed to operate such a vehicle.

There was an even greater strangeness in being aware that this vehicle was a living, sentient being. He quickly approached Smokescreen and entered the car to be greeted by an amused chuckle emanating from the sound systems.

"Yeesh, you looked like you were about to faint out there, little dude."

He had no idea how to take the shifting endearments. Still, he only chuckled back as he secured himself with the seatbelts, feeling the slight rush of speed with Smokescreen easing himself into the roads.

"Good to see you too, Smokescreen. Please tell me you're not causing too much trouble?" Much as he spoke that latter half in some form of jest, he was also hoping that Smokescreen wasn't causing too much of a ruckus around the area.

"Pfft, have some faith in me, Roland. I'm fine right now. So, you said you wanted to go to an internet café, any direction on that? Quite the request."

Roland shook his head with a light smile as he told the Autobot of one that was only a few minutes away. With an affirmative from the Autobot, he settled into a surprisingly quiet and comfortable ride the way through. It allowed him some scant time to think through how to articulate his plans to Smokescreen, it was also ample time to figure out what he needed to do while he was there. He figured that he didn't have too much time to laze about the café beyond just simply not wanting to risk spending too much money by hanging about in one. He needed to at least get a start on the form to that talent show, then email William at some point regarding his resignation, and then starting the paperwork to break his lease.

"Lot on your mind again? Seems like that's been you the entire time I've been driving." Quipped Smokescreen, breaking the silence as Roland's head jerked up.

They weren't too far, with the Autobot pulling up into an available parking space while he'd asked the question.

"I… yeah," Roland began. "There's a lot I have to do before I say goodbye for good to Chicago and we're off on our road trip. There's some stuff I need a computer for."

Smokescreen's alt form stopped near a parking meter. He could hear a light hum of affirmation coming from the speakers as the Autobot managed to simulate the effect of a car turning off.

"Do what you need to do, Roland. How long do you need? Better not be for too long." He could hear the Autobot add a joking tone at the end.

"Less than half an hour. I won't be as quick… what you called a breem?" He had to pause as he attempted to say the Cybertronian term. As precious as it was to hear Smokescreen's guffaw, to the point where he feared the alt form might've actually been shaking slightly, he did feel slightly affronted at that.

"Man I have got to help you with your Cybertronian! Alright, just don't take an entire solar cycle." Smokescreen finally calmed. "And hey… thanks for agreeing to help out."

Roland couldn't help but smile at that.

"I'm happy to. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He stopped short of patting the dashboard, trying to block any rabbit holes forming in his mind as he focused on exiting the car and settling himself into the café. The establishment was one he was familiar with here and there, though it was one he tried not to frequent considering how much the per minute charges could add up. Given that this particular café was stacked to the brim with rows of computers that were more powerful than ones he could afford, alongside with better internet than he could ever have, he knew that lingering for too long was not going to be a wise decision. He quickly perused the various rows of monitors to find one that wasn't occupied. There was an absence of too many people within the establishment, so it did not take Roland long to find a computer he could log into.

The first thing he sought to do first as soon as he was able to quickly log into his mail was send in a notice to William. This was a decision he should've contemplated with far more depth and thought, but a part of Roland wanted to get this over with, knowing that lingering further would tempt the prospect of reneging. However, he steeled himself and tried to remind himself that he needed to stay to his commitment. If he really wanted to not just commit to his dreams but also commit to his word to Smokescreen… he drafted the emails as quickly as he could, feeling a strange sense of liberation as he sent in his brief resignation notice to William. It probably would've been faster through a text message but considering his now ex-manager seemed to prefer something that wasn't just a phone for communication that wasn't based on time or attendance, he knew that e-mail was the way to go.

Then, there was drafting the letter to terminate his lease. Roland needed to research some legalese to make the email sound proper. He knew that sending emails was hardly going to be the end, especially since he knew there was more to leaving a life behind than simply sending a hastily written notification. He set the date for lease termination for tomorrow, leaving a note within the bad imitation of legal and formal jargon that he would allow his landlord to simply auction whatever was left of his belongings.

If there was one good thing about leading a largely spartan life and only having just a few necessities in his scant apartment, there wasn't going to be too much to pack except hoping that Smokescreen's trunk had enough space. Thinking of that was another uncomfortable rabbit hole waiting to happen. There were only two things left before he needed to log off… the directions to Tranquility and then that talent show.

The directions to what looked to be a suburb weren't too hard to source and convert to an email he could send to himself. However, he found himself questioning exactly what was in Tranquility that merited not just Smokescreen needing to go there, but also why such a place seemed to be teeming with incredibly advanced alien robots. It was likely they had their reasons that he was at no place to understand unless he was there on the ground. He acquiesced to his lack of knowing, picking a route that snaked towards the southwestern US and directly into Arizona, something that made Roland smile. That could be a fun time. Still, time was of the essence; he had to focus on the next thing as soon as he sent the directions to his email. All that was left was to reckon with the talent show… not just the form itself, but also the very idea and conception itself, and the aspirations that were perpetually bound to why he wanted to go there in the first place.

He hadn't been too forthright about the other big reason why he wanted to go with Smokescreen all the way out west. He hadn't even so much as told the Autobot the depth of his desire to want to make it big to the music industry, no less even admit it to himself. It didn't matter what venue or time of day it was, there was a certain chill to typing 'America's Next Big Star' on the keyboard and keenly expecting the search results. He clicked on a result that led straight to the pages dedicated for future contestants, having since memorized the virtual path he needed to take to get to the sign-up forms for auditions.

He'd gotten used to the glitzy and glamorous web design, the accents of ostentatious gold and the plastered doctored pictures of the judges that abounded the site. That was framed by the rather flashy logo emblazoned at the head of the web page, an image that conjured up the sounds of the theme music in Roland's head. He tried to silence the temptation to linger and think through the various reasons why he even considered 'America's Next Big Star' as a platform to get exposed, no less the painful memories of obsessively tracking the winners, the runners-up, the third placers, those who made careers when they hadn't even made it past the various stages of the show's culling.

The world of reality TV beckoned to him with its boring siren call as he made his way to the PDF. He sent an unblemished copy to his e-mail, knowing he would need to download it to work on it offline should wi-fi become a problem. He sighed when he saw the form appear in his own inbox, with him quickly logging off and paying for the time he spent. He'd made it too dangerously close to the half-hour mark, which left quite a dent in how much he'd have to spend. Still, he grin and bore the costs, exiting the café with a simultaneous sense of determination and the realization that he needed to have another talk with Smokescreen.

He hadn't even so much as described what 'America's Next Big Star' was about to the Autobot, nor did he even imply it. Having to describe the music industry was going to be a trip in and of its own, he dreaded how to explain human television and greed. He dreaded having to describe sensationalism, dramatism, how the music industry takes advantage of those that came from television, the stigma surrounding those that came from TV talent shows, and how so much of it only felt real.

Was that even covering it all? Roland was not even sure. He tried to keep his mind focused as he saw the familiar silver and blue car standing outside. Given Smokescreen's seeming youth, he was mildly surprised that the Autobot didn't resort to driving around or had even pinged him. Regardless, he didn't want to question whatever run of fortune this seemed to be, especially considering what he had just willingly given up in writing. He entered the car taking a deep breath, immediately catching some concern from the Autobot when he heard the car speakers pipe up and the alternate form ignite the engines much like a car.

Was it strange that he was also beginning to get used to how advanced Smokescreen's functionalities were?

"I swear it feels like I'm always going to see you with some intense expression anytime you come out of a building."

And the Autohot had a point as his voice resonated through the interior. He sighed as he felt Smokescreen's form go into the screens again. There was a joking tone to the Cybertronian's voice, but at the same time, there was so much in his mind to the point where he wasn't sure how to hide it from him. Roland owed him another conversation, one where they really went through in far more detail why they were doing this.

"Everything okay, bud?" The Autobot asked.

"I will be," Roland said. "It's been a lot… and I'm sorry if I'm coming off too intensely," and he knows he wasn't even in the very thicket of what it would've been like somehow he made it to the very apex of the music industry. It wasn't even the fame that would break people sometimes, but the overwork, the unstable schedules… or at least what he'd heard from those he'd followed that went through the talent show pipeline.

"Don't worry, Roland. If anything… you need to talk?" Now that question was something Roland should've foreseen coming from Smokescreen.

"…Yeah," he admitted. "Both of us do. I need to tell you more about why I wanna help you. The whole singing thing has been on my mind and I didn't really explain it all that well last night." He figured it was best to be as forthright as he could. Really, this wasn't just going to be one conversation that would solve things. Knowing the way he was prone to being rather jumpy even while he was explaining things or venting out his frustrations, he knew that this was going to be an entire series of negotiations, fits, restarts, and more lucid explanations when he wasn't such in the thicket of it all.

"I…" Uncertainty teemed through the Autobot's voice as a tentative response. Somehow, the ride was still rather smooth, even though Smokescreen didn't really have any particular direction he was going in. "You know… I've been thinking about last… last night, I got my human terminology correct, heh. I said I'd explain the war, I just mostly talked about me. I owe ya a better explanation about that too, not just a story of some hot shot rookie…"

Concern tinged in Roland's mind when he heard what was unmistakably self-loathing at those last few words. He wondered if it was just an utterance that wasn't meant to be heard, but it was something he at least wanted to help with. He softly pat the steering wheel, glad that he couldn't see some sort of bewildered expression. That was the good thing about a Cybertronian's alternate form, there was no way he could garner any sort of reaction that he could see except for Smokescreen potentially doing some strange and dangerous things while on the road.

"I didn't mind at all," he hoped that the genuineness of that statement came through. "I liked learning about you. And if you do have more to say… I'm all ears. We don't have to talk about the war, and if you don't want to, I won't make you."

The silence that hung between them terrified Roland a touch, an anxiety beginning to constrict through his chest as he wondered if he said something wrong or offended the Autobot. This was the bad thing about a Cybertronian's alternate form. There was a difficulty in gleaming the nuances of their reactions to things. Without a face to gaze at, he didn't even know if he risked being hauled out of Smokescreen's form by sheer force of will or if the drive was going to be safe. At the very least, the young Autobot had been consistently friendly, but he wasn't sure how he could handle someone who would be far more hostile and willing to kill humans.

"Thanks, little dude." The gratitude felt palpable, at the very least. That relaxed Roland as he smiled at the dashboard, which allowed him to ease his back into the car seat. "Should've asked you the other obvious question earlier, heh. You able to do what you needed to do?"

"I was able to, yeah." He paused there, trying to get his mind back in order. There weren't that too many things left in the to-do list to extricate himself from Chicago in full and then finally say goodbye for real. "This is gonna be a risk… but do you think you can take me back to where you found me? I'm hoping there aren't too many cops…"

"Huh? Yeah, I can. Don't wanna take you to where any Decepticon has been but given from what I've been seeing… they're way more prevalent in your planet than I thought. Why you gotta go back?"

"Most of my stuff is in there. I'm not going to bring too much I do want to bring some spare clothes and maybe my computer. And I have to post a notice to my landlord too that I'm vacating… and that I'm not coming back."

"You're really leaving forever, are you?"

"That's the hope."

He heard a 'slag' from the speakers as he could feel Smokescreen change course. It was here that he finally had the wherewithal to glance at the area of Chicago they were in and it was one that he only had a vague sense of familiarity with. Wherever Smokescreen had taken them, there was a real chance that they could've started this road trip right at this very moment. The Autobot fell silent for a few moments.

"Roland… you know you didn't have to do any of this, right? The more I read about you humans online, the more I'm realizing… just how much it is you're giving up, especially if you're living in a city like this."

He couldn't help but smile at that, the temptation to pat the steering wheel again growing stronger. However, the thought of having already committed to leaving Chicago, going his own way to support his career, and helping Smokescreen forced Roland to think of a suitable response than to necessarily show some bizarre sense of affection.

"I have my reasons for making this choice, Smokescreen. I just… it'll be fine. I want to do this, and I've wanted to get away from here for some time, anyway." He wasn't sure what was waiting on the other side. The only guarantee was a life of consented penury, but even then, there was something invigorating about at least agreeing to spend some time with a stranger who was quite unlike anyone he'd ever met. "I trust you, as much as I can knowing it's only been roughly 24 hours since we've known each other."

"That's still a lot you're placing though, bud. But… I believe ya. I'll take you to where you need to go. After that… that's it? We're basically good to go?"

Outside of his wanting to spend one more night in the motel just to at least make the value proposition worth it and getting mentally ready… as far as he and Smokescreen were concerned, the only thing left to do was to pack.

"Honestly… I had plans to leave tomorrow afternoon in the event that I needed to stay here to set things right or deal with people, but… once I have my stuff together, we're… basically free." Roland uttering that out loud caused a strange euphoric anxiety to flood through his mind. He sat in fear at what he had thrown away, yet there was an excitement at precisely over the unknowns that lay over the horizon. "I just wanna stay one more night in the motel, eat… and then by first light tomorrow, it's goodbye to Chicago."

It wasn't long until Smokescreen eased them into the damaged streets. There were still scars of last night's skirmish that lay about the streets, the obvious areas and paths to his apartment cordoned off as it was clear that this was just more than the local beat securing the area. A fear crept up Roland's body as he gazed at the sight; he was far from wanting to interact with whoever the local authorities in charge of this area were.

"Do what you need to do."

Sneaking through the area didn't prove to be awfully difficult, even though the streets appeared nigh-abandoned. It was a matter of hoping that there weren't any on-lookers from afar or anyone that had some sort of interest with what happened last night watching the area. Those thoughts disappeared as he took the familiar path to his apartment.

It hadn't been more than 48 hours since he was last here, that much Roland could be certain of. However, the past 24 hours alone felt like a strange eternity that risked stretched on even further. He fumbled about for his keys, opening the door to his apartment that would soon no longer his. It was quite a sight, with not much of note inside except for the worn furniture, the laptop he owned atop the coffee table, and the slapdash and cheap equipment he used to try and record his now destroyed demos. He didn't spend much time reminiscing over his belongings, making a beeline to his room to try and find the one go-bag he kept using during college.

Once he found it, Roland got to work. He packed whatever clothing he could fit and was still viable for the weather into the bag. He shoved in his laptop, plus the charger into another backpack. He also rummaged around the fridge for food that wouldn't perish for long. It was with both good and bad fortune that there was nothing that he could bring, and really, there wasn't much of anything inside when he so much as popped open the fridge. He quickly threw in the few bottles of water that he subsisted on as far as drinks were concerned. It was a reminder of what he needed to do had he instead decided to stay in Chicago, that being the perpetual reminder of needing to make his paycheck stretch into groceries for the next few weeks.

He printed out his lease termination notice, the directions to Tranquility, and left his keys on the counter. Everything about what he was doing when it came to leaving all screamed a mistake. There needed to be time, there needed to be more planning. He didn't need to strike while the iron was hot, lest he ended up burning his entire life and someone else's in the process. There would be hell to pay from a landlord he'd rather not talk to.

Still, a part of him wanted to get away with as short of a notice as he could.

He blotted out the cautions that swirled about his mind, emerging out of the apartment and striding towards Smokescreen with belongings in tow. There was a certain sense of awkwardness in having to put things in the trunk of a Cybertronian, though it was not as if the Autobot seemed to resist having human belongings in there.

"You were fast," Smokescreen remarked as Roland stepped inside.

"Needed to be. Don't wanna stay here for long," and it was a sentiment that Smokescreen seemed to share, given that he'd started maneuvering them out of the area.

"Back to the motel for you? And tomorrow… we're going for real?"

"Yep. This is it, Smokescreen… you're gonna be on your way to your people soon, and I may never have to see Chicago ever again." And he wanted nothing more than for it to happen, especially to stop the temptation of second thoughts.

"Slag… that's surreal. Also, heh, I saw you with all of the luggage. I'll give you a heads up when I need to transform. Don't wanna destroy anything important in there."

"…Thanks."

It was there that time finally felt like it blurred by. It wasn't long until Roland and Smokescreen found themselves at the cheap motel that the former was staying in. Plans were arranged to leave the city by sunrise, which entailed the singer to wake up at a rather early hour. It wasn't something he minded, especially considering that there was naught to do but eat and wait. He spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening charging his phone and laptop, knowing that he would need the technology in some form while on the road.

Granted, he almost thought to ask Smokescreen if his alternate form could be some sort of charging port for potentially incompatible human technology.

Hours would pass and dawn finally broke. The day he promised to depart with Smokescreen was now upon him. He could sense a shift in the air and in his mind when he checked out of the motel at about 5 in the morning, paying the bills for the food and the lodging. It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as the rent he knew would've had to pay later on this month. He tightened his bag and mentally prepared himself as he saw Smokescreen's alternate form waiting outside, either having patiently waited or made it just in time to the same spot. Either way, he knew it was time. With a deep breath, he stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the Autobot's interior.

"Good morning, bud." Smokescreen sounded exhausted. Huh, so even Cybertronians fell prey to the kind of cycles that human beings needed to go through. "All good? Your stuff's still safe with me, don't worry about that."

"I'm good… I'm ready." And those four words felt so good to say.

He orated the directions from the rather sloppily stapled piles of paper that constituted the directions to this southern Nevada suburb that honestly reminded of the ones he saw from California.

"From here, take the I-55 and that'll be the first stretch of long road. We'll be Illinois still for a while. But in a few days, depending on how much food I need and everything, you'll be in Tranquility soon. Just don't go too fast so we don't get caught by the cops or anything."

"Pfft. You underestimate how careful I can be. But I gotcha, bud. Just keep telling me the directions. It's fragging easy to get lost in your planet."

"I know… I know." It would not be long until the Autobot found himself in the aforementioned freeway, with Roland acutely feeling the power imbalance between cars produced in Earth and what the Autobot could truly be capable of. He dreaded the thought of being in a car that could go infinitely faster than a plane, but he set aside those thoughts as Chicago was behind them both.

From Smokescreen's side mirror, there was a freedom in seeing the sight of the skyline becoming more distant.

He hoped that feeling would stay.