Another story part, etc etc, no time or material for an amusing disclaimer and if you want a recap, read the rest of the god damn story. I write these things so you can read all of them, you know. I don't own the Transformers, or Alternators (yet…) but I do own everything else worth mention in this fic, including Pursuit, Quickchase, Dead End and all the humans. And Highway City, though not the USA… yet…heh heh heh… Many thanks to Pivot for reviews and inspiration, I dedicate this to you.

PS: I'm not well familiar with the USA's geography, which state do any Americans in the audience think Highway City should be set in? I thought somewhere near the middle of the country, at the nexus of many major national routes (hence the name) and in the proverbial middle of nowhere desert kind of geography. Texas? Nevada? Where?

Part 6: Meetings

Pursuit and Quickchase knew the three Autobots: Smokescreen, the highly competent, experienced leader; Side Swipe, the shy, inexperienced rookie; Hound, the dependable soldier and battle veteran.

Smokescreen spoke. "We were sent here to find and retrieve you two, after the Decepticons were detected following you…"

"Well about time you came!" Carl yelled over the continuing fire.

"We could use some additional firepower here!" shouted Quickchase, ducking to avoid a shot.

"Oh, right," said Smokescreen. He then shouted orders to his men. "Battle positions! Counterattack!"

"Yes, sir!" Hound answered as he quickly moved into formation and revealed his pistol.

"Uh, yessir!" said Side Swipe soon after as he did the same.

"All right then," said Smokescreen as he converted his car engine into his own weapon. "Open fire!"

The three unloaded their weapons into the Decepticons, adding their firepower to the hail of energy shots, bullets and blasts going that way. Dead End's squad were pushed back by the barrage, and the black Corvette realised they were outnumbered and outgunned. "Decepticons, retreat!" he yelled, and then transformed and headed back for the highway, the other Decepticons following him and Davis barely catching up to jump into his car.

Some introductions, explanations and minor repairs later, the Autobots were all moving down the highway back towards the city. The new arrivals might have looked suspicious with no drivers, but it was late in the day and traffic was little. Besides, they were in America, nobody would care. Carl and Jess had to head back to the station to check out for the day and report (their version of) the day's events. And compare arrest counts. On the way back, Carl asked Pursuit to take control as he made three phone calls.

Later on that night, three of Carl's friends drove up to his home- one Carl had painstakingly chosen and fought to acquire, a fairly large, one-story house on a large block on the outskirts of the city, to remind him of back home in Australia, where such houses were more common. Also because it had a large, four-car garage that was mostly filled with tools and parts, that had to house his Corvette (now Pursuit), his large twin-cab pick-up (Ute in Aussie language) and trailer he used to haul old wrecks back from the junkyard to be resurrected as top-notch street machines ('Saved from Scrap', he called his business), and one of such wrecks as he fixed it up.

Currently three cars were parked outside the house, each very different. One was the Dodge Viper belonging to Sally Sweitzer- the rich girl whom Carl had steered away from the road to crime, or socialite shamelessness along the lines of Paris Hilton (and also literally avoiding some nasty accidents) and onto a more respectable path of life. Just finishing a hard day at Highway City College, she had been thrilled to receive a call from Carl, asking her to come over to his house tonight. She had spent the last three hours putting on makeup and picking an outfit (old habits die hard) before coming over, only to be rather annoyed when the others turned up, signalling that this was probably more of a friends' gathering than what she had been hoping for. She was currently sulking while the others chatted and wondered what was going on.

One of the 'others' and owner of the Jeep Cherokee was the man known best as Dog. A full-blood Cherokee Indian, tall and muscled, Dog was well-known as a social worker striving to improve life for the Native American population of Highway City, adapting to modern society while not losing their ancient culture and heritage. It wasn't easy, but Dog was not the kind who would ever give up. He and Carl Chaser had met and helped each other several times in related incidents, and the two got along quite well.

The last car was the most unusual- a Subaru WRX rally car, complete with sponsor logos, rollbars and the lot. Sam Smith was the owner- an African-American rally racer aiming for the big time, and Carl- who loved and respected legitimate racing with a true Australian passion- had volunteered as a mechanic several times on his off days, his incredible skill being the difference between victory and loss. Carl had become an instant No. 1 fan after seeing his perseverance and determination on the track only once, and Sam liked the Aussie's easygoing, generous nature. Sam also occasionally acted as a tip-off when rumours of upcoming illegal races spread through the many amateur race car drivers that resided in Highway City- a result of several racetracks being located in and around the city that hadn't got its name for nothing.

All three had no real idea what was going on when Carl and Jess pulled up on their respective vehicles. After a few greetings, the question was soon raised, and oddly enough quickly answered in the form of Pursuit transforming.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Davis Enzine had called up some friends of his own. He ran one of the most notorious underground gangs in Highway City- drug running, extortion, robbery and of course car theft were all in the order of business, with road racing as a profitable sport on the side. Tough cops and tough laws breed tougher criminals.

Davis's most (relatively) trusted and dangerous members had been assembled, including the Rider twins- Joyce and Nancy Rider, two femme fatales and decent racers; both drove Ferraris given as gifts by Davis himself to ensure loyalty. Though it wasn't like the cars had cost him much. The other guy was Charlie Opt, Davis's general heavy muscle. Not too bright or talkative, but reliable and handy with a gun. He drove a brown Hummer. You didn't usually get the most agreeable, respectable or sane people in this profession. The same could go for being a Decepticon…

Whew, finally got this done. This has been a struggle to get finished, and I can't say it's my best. Not much action in this, gotta fit in the plot somewhere of course, but I don't think it's too bad anyway.

And if any American Indians reading this are in any way offended by the description of Dog, or his work, I'm really sorry. I'm just writing from the very little that I know, and assuming it's not too dissimilar over there than it is here with the Aborigines. Either way, things should and I think are getting better. Remember, I'm an Australian, not an American. I just want to have an even variety of races and cultures among my characters, which don't necessarily affect their personalities or roles. I hate stereotypes, and take care to not have them in my stories- if I do, it's usually because I'm under stress to think of a new character or something like that. Either way, I just want to write a good story, or at least somehow entertain people.

Thanks to Pivot for beta-ing. Love ya.

Also, thanks to Dark Aura for getting me to update. What's your name here again? SP something 3X?