A lone man prowled streets of the streets of Las Vegas, searching the shadiest areas for an unfortunate victim who was a little too drunk. He was a man who many would call a bum, a thief. To himself he was a mere man that was down in his luck. But unfortunately, that excuse was not often met with the sympathetic smiles of cops.
As the man passed an alley, his eyes did the regular sweep of a citizen from a large city: the average search for a speeding car, robber with a weapon, or a dead body. He didn't see the first two, but the man stopped upon seeing something that looked suspiciously like the third.
Heart pounding, the thief crept up to the still form leaning against the wall of the dimly-lit alley. It appeared to be a fellow bum- unfortunate fellow, the man corrected himself- that had drunk far too much, if the bottles on the side told a correct story. Exactly what the thief was looking for. Eagerly, the thief began to search the drunk's tattered coat and grimly jeans pockets.
Suddenly, a brilliant light exploded from the dead end wall at end the murky alley, blinding the thief. To his surprise and fear, the light became a vortex, and out of vortex came a motorcycle in a blaze of blue and pink that appeared almost golden in the halo. Upon the bike was a lone figure covered in black. Due to the light, it looked as if his head was shrouded in flames. Thus, the thief leapt to the most obvious conclusion to this unexpected event.
"The Ghost Rider," the man breathed, his voice cracking in horror. The Ghost Rider was a spirit of Vengeance, and here he was robbing a drunk. Terrified, the man threw the drunk's near depleted wallet to the Rider and sprinted away screaming, "I'm sorry! Please don't burn my soul!"
The thief's departure caused successfully robbed him of the sight of a large, green, heavy-duty SUV and a black and yellow Camaro driving through the portal and coming to a halt behind the motorcycle.
"What was that about?" the motorcycle Arcee asked her rider as the ground bridge closed behind them.
"No idea," responded the dull voice of Jack. Inwardly, Arcee shuddered. Her partner was usually quiet at the best of times, but this…was disturbing. She was against Jack coming with them in the first place, but Optimus had approved…she respected her leader, but to be honest, since when had a nearly emotionless Prime truly paid attention to the mannerisms and emotions of human children, particularly their charges? Jack sounded like, well, like a robot. He sounded like man past his years. Primus, he sounded like her after the death of her other two partners.
"What's the plan?" asked Bulkhead, breaking Arcee out of her uneasy musing.
Ratchet's voice came over their comm systems. "I've uploaded each of your destinations into your navigational systems. Whoever finds the canister will contact me so I can bridge into their location and develop a solution upon examination."
"Let's get going then," Sanchez said gruffly.
"Autobots, roll out," Optimus's voice came over the comm. "And good luck."
xxxxxxx
Arcee rode through the streets of Vegas, the silence of her partner making her uncharacteristically nervous. The guilt weighing on her CPU and the bright lights of Vegas wasn't helping.
She was beginning to really dislike Vegas. Having been in Jasper for so long, she was used to long stretches of road with clean blacktop that cast the nice heat directly onto her frame. But here, they were stuck in a traffic jam, people drove shiny cars that reflected the artificial light painfully into her headlights, and cursed each other in loud voices. And what were these humans feeding their vehicles, charcoal? There was a load of icky gray dust on her spokes, and the road was full of potholes.
"Don't these people realize there may be someone trying to save their lives?" Jack growled as Arcee took a shortcut between two cars to a chorus of horns.
Arcee hesitated on her question, but realizing it had to be done, asked anyway. "Jack? Do you want to talk?"
"No," Jack replied curtly.
Arcee recognized the tone from the Jack's rare moments of teenage angst. "But you need to talk."
Jack was silent.
Arcee sighed. 'I know what it's like, Jack. I know what it's like to be hurt by others for information, for fun. And I know how painful it is when you bottle it up." Her voice softened. "You're my partner, Jack. I'm here for you. Always."
"I know." Jack's voice was barely above a whisper. He stroked her Autobot symbol. "I'm broken." His hands tightened on her handlebars. His voice took on a darker tone. "I won't be fixed until the one who broke me dies."
Before Arcee could respond, they emerged from traffic and arrived outside of their destination.
For a moment, they both stared at it.
Jack said, "You're joking me."
A smartly dressed man in a uniform came up to them. "Welcome to the Luxor Casino, sir."
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