CWC: Howdy! Don't shoot! I just finished up exams, pretty sure I passed (Yeah!), so you're getting a chappie. Hope you enjoy, see you at the bottom!
Thanks to the reviewers: ForgotMyName2Day and RamenKnight.
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Chapter Four: Strange Customers
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I give the customer a cheery smile as she checks out and relax back onto my stool. The rest of the school week had gone quietly; Kristen was reduced to an angry simmer due to her replacement car being a bright yellow Volkswagen bug, which, while a nice enough car, was not that impressive, and the rest of the school now held me in a barely contained awe. Today had felt like the longest in a long time, but finally it was Friday, school was over for the week and I had (I glanced at the clock) thirty minutes left in my shift. What could possibly go wrong?
The roar of a powerful engine outside catches my attention and I whistle in appreciation as a hot pink Ducati 848 motorcycle pulled into the parking lot, its driver revving the engine once more before turning it off and taking off her helmet. The driver is a woman, about my height, in black leather pants, boots, gloves, and long sleeve jacket. Her black hair is in a pixie cut with long, hot-pink-dyed bangs flopping over her face, almost covering electric blue eyes.
She stares at me for a minute before turning her back to the store and crossing her arms, looking like she's waiting for someone. I turn back to my work, only to look up again as more engines rumble into the lot.
This time the culprits are a brand new Porsche Cayman painted like a racecar, mainly white with one thick blue stripe with a black 4 bordered by two thin red stripes running down the center, and an absolutely enormous black GMC Topkick. The Porsche driver steps out.
He's a man, probably in his early twenties, wearing blue jeans, a red T-shirt, and a white jacket with stripes that match his car. Black combat boots cover his feet, and a blue almost visor-like pair of sunglasses shields his eyes. Semi-long black hair flops over his forehead and a wide, easy grin spreads across his face as he approaches the woman. He and the cyclist appear to argue for a second before he rolls his eyes and comes inside, smiling a greeting at me before wandering off into the store. The motorcycle rider crosses her arms and leans back against her bike, glaring down at the pavement.
I ogle the cars for a minute, noticing that the Topkick and Cayman have parked on either side of Cade, and the Ducati is directly in front of him. Something is strange about Cade, too. I squint at him, confused. Cars shouldn't be able to tremble, even the little bit that Cade is doing. It must be the heat waves coming off the pavement…on a cloudy day…in the fall. Getting over it, I look back at the cash register and, bored, start sorting coins as my brain turns over the strange looks I got from the new customers. I get absorbed in my thoughts and my quarter-counting.
"Excuse me?"
"BWAH!" I jump when a voice sounds from near my elbow, whacking the black haired guy from earlier in the ear and falling off my stool to bang my head on the bottom of the counter. Visor guy recovers earlier than I do and looks at me through his visor with concerned eyes.
"Are you okay," he asks worriedly; he has a strange accent, and his voice is almost musical like some kind of singer. I sit up and rub my head, moaning.
"I'm good," I say. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to clock you in the ear!" I stand up and am able to regain my stool as he laughs slightly.
"I'm fine," he reassures me, grinning and taking his hand away from his ear. Now that he's closer I can see that he's almost a head taller than I am, and has a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck with the cord trailing down to vanish in a pocket of his jacket.
"So…" I trail off, trying to think of reasons that one of the customers, especially one with such a sweet ride, was talking to me. "Did you need something," I ask finally, and the man gives me a confused look. He quickly gets over it and smiles again.
"Nah, I just wanted to know what you were thinkin' so hard about," he says casually, as though walking up to total strangers and asking them what they were thinking about is normal. I shrug.
"I was just thinking about school stuff. What's your name?"
He hesitates for only a split second before he says, "They call me Jazz, little lady. What would your name be?"
I reply, "Cool name. My moniker is Teresa. So, do you like music?" I gesture to the headphones in his hood.
"Oh, yeah," he answers, laughing lightly. "I love music!"
"Who's your favorite band," I ask.
"It depends on mah mood, honestly. I'm a big Skillet fan at the moment, but it changes by the day," he replies with a shrug. I grin.
"Really? Have you heard Monster?"
He looks almost insulted, giving me an affronted look. He puts one hand on his chest right above his heart and I notice that he's wearing white fingerless gloves. "Terry, you insult me," he says, giving me a small smile to show that he's joking. "Of course! How 'bout Better than Drugs?"
"Now, Jazz-man, you insult me! That song is awesome!" Jazz chuckles.
"Jazz-man, I like that," he says before I ask, "Have you heard of this guy called Toby Mac?"
"Have I ever! Showstopper was my favorite song last week!"
Jazz and I chat, talking music and comparing favorite bands until I happen to glance at the clock. "Oh crap," I yelp, grabbing the intercom from beside the register.
"Attention Ollie's shoppers," I say cheerfully, hearing my voice echo around the store. "Ollie's will close in five minutes. Please bring all last minute purchases to the register. Thanks for shopping at Ollie's, good stuff cheap!"
Jazz looks at me, amused, and steps back a little to let the few last minute customers buy their stuff. Everyone else has left and we're about to start chatting again when a woman's voice breaks in. It's the motorcycle rider from earlier. I hadn't seen her come in.
"Excuse me," she says. Her voice has a strange lilt, almost like an accent, and her eyes are an even brighter shade of blue up close. They almost look like they're glowing. "Can you help me with this?"
"Sure thing," I reply, taking the items from her. "Gifts for some brothers," I guess, gesturing to the stuff. She smiles wryly.
"Something like that," she answers as I put the large wrench and a Whoopie cushion in the bag. She slides a plastic card, and the computer wigs out for a second before reporting that everything has been paid for. I give it a look, but shrug and let it slide. I hand the biker the bag and she says, "Thank you." She hesitates.
"Are you okay," she asks looking at me, obviously very concerned. She reminds me of… "Yes," I say, giving her a strange look. "Are you sure," she asks, persistent. "You're not in any danger?"
"Yes, I'm sure," I answer again. Jazz face palms, looking embarrassed, as the woman purses her lips, not entirely convinced, and walks out.
Jazz looks eager to continue our conversation, but I look at my watch and, giving him my most apologetic look, say, "Listen, it was nice talking to you, but the store is now closed and I have to clean up."
It isn't very subtle, but it works; he smiles sadly, saying, "Alright then. Maybe I'll see you around."
"Maybe," I reply. He walks out and gets into his Porsche. I wait until I hear the three powerful engines roar away before I clean up the store quickly and head out to the parking lot. When I reach Cade I scowl.
Large dents mar the driver's door, beside where the Topkick truck's door would have been. I start to get mad but then sigh and get in, turning on the radio and immersing myself in music for the drive home.
When I arrive, I quickly get the dent puller and yank the large dent out of Cade, thankfully without damaging the paint. That done, I step outside for a minute to enjoy the fall evening, loving the way the fiery sunset matched the hue of the leaves on my oak trees.
I shiver delightfully, enjoying the feeling of every hair on my body stand up from the cold, and decide to have a quiet evening. I go back inside and, fixing myself a cup of hot chocolate, curl up on the couch with a thick blanket and a good book as the light fades from the sky and late afternoon becomes night. I finish my book and look at the clock as it strikes ten.
Yawning, I notice that I'm still in my day clothes and, blanket wrapped around my shoulders like a cape, step outside for the second time. I stand there until my feet and fingers go numb, just staring at the stars. A smile tugs at my lips as I see a trio of shooting stars fly across the sky.
Heading back inside I relax back onto the couch and, reluctant to turn on the TV, simply lie there until my mind fogs and I drop deep into sleep, dreaming of cars and their people.
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The three Autobots convene in the used car lot of the Ollie's, forming a rough triangle of vehicles.
:: So, first impressions? :: Arcee begins over the comm. link.
:: We should have just shot the slagger. :: Ironhide grumbles, revving his engine slightly.
:: Come on, Ironhide, ya know why we couldn't do that. :: Jazz chides slightly. :: It woulda blown our cover to the humans, not ta mention that it wouldn't 'ave been fair to shoot an unarm'd opponent. ::
:: We still should have shot him. :: Ironhide maintains. :: What about the girl? Is she in any danger? ::
:: Of course she is, she's riding around in a Decepticon! :: Arcee explodes. :: She just doesn't realize it. ::
:: Ya know, I noticed somethin' strange 'bout ol' Cade. :: Jazz remarks. :: He didn't talk. At all. Not even when Ironhide called him a-:
:: We get it! :: Arcee cuts him off. :: What's your point? ::
:: The point is, since when does a 'Con care about maintaining cover? 'Specially when he could just scan a new alt-mode and disappear with this fancy new spark-hider you say he's come up with. ::
:: He does have something to hide his spark signature. :: Arcee states flatly. :: Neither of you could sense him until you were right next to him, could you? And what does him not caring about keeping under the radar have to do with anything? ::
:: Did 'e suddenly start to care about human's lives? :: Jazz asks, sounding innocently curious.
:: What makes you think that Barricade has started to care about the lives of humans? : Ironhide says, sounding suspicious.
:: Because what other reason would 'e have for NOT transformin', shootin' the scrap outta us, and makin' a run for it? :: Jazz asks plainly. The other two fall silent and stop dead.
:: Errr… :: Ironhide says intelligently.
Arcee chews on this new information before speaking again.
:: Regardless, he is still a Decepticon, and he must pay for his crimes against the Autobots and Cybertron. :: Arcee says quietly.
Jazz and Ironhide give quick affirmatives before the three break up, each going their separate ways to patrol the town, making sure that the Decepticon does not escape.
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Barricade's POV
I curse internally as I barely manage to dodge the headlights of the Autobot femme. It had been hard enough just getting out of the house without alerting a sleeping Teresa that I was leaving, now the fragging Autobots had to set up a perimeter around the entire slagging town!
Grumbling, I stalk off and, transforming back into my Mustang form, head back to the small A-frame. I cut off my engine a short distance away from the house and coast the rest of the way into the garage. My holoform manages to find the remote to the garage door and, after glancing around outside, closes the door.
It wanders upstairs and looks down on the youngling sleeping sprawled on the couch. I, in my holoform-suit, think for a minute. If I left her like this, she would be stiff and sore in the morning, and then she would whine and be miserable all day. Better to just move her now than deal with that.
Gently, I pick her up and carry her up the stairs before putting her down on the bed. Examining her again, I pull the blankets up over her form before deactivating my holoform. I was going to have to 'thank' Swindle the next time I saw him; the stupid thing must be malfunctioning.
Shaking it off, I active my recharge sequence. Tomorrow, I would fix that holoform and refine the energy signature masker. Soon I would be able to slip out of the town without the Auto-scum noticing, and I would never see this town, or this human, again. I fight back a wince as the recharge sequence begins to take effect. The malfunction must be affecting my emotion processer; I'd have to fix that soon; phantom sadness could hinder me on the battle field.
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On a hill overlooking the house, a smirk finds its way across the faceplate of a certain Autobot. Readjusting his visor to normal levels, Jazz transforms and rolls back to the main road. This could be worth investigating.
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Teresa's POV
Groaning, I pry my eyes open and sit up, pushing the covers off me and swinging my legs out of bed. I've already pulled my jeans on when it occurs to me that where I just woke up was not where I went to sleep.
Furrowing my eyebrows, my mouth falls open as I look from my bed to the open door leading downstairs to the living room and back again. My mouth closes with a click as I decide to ignore it and finish getting dressed. I sigh and grab a bowl of cereal for breakfast before picking up my purse and take the stairs down to the basement two at a time, landing with a thump at the bottom. I spread my arms wide in a huge ta da!
"Gooooood Morning, my lovely Barricade! I hope you slept well, because it's Saturday," I say, giving the black and red car a wide grin. Hopping into the driver's seat, I turn on the radio and pull out of the garage with Saturday Night by the Bay City Rollers moving through the air. By the time I get into town, I'm on a music high and feeling good.
Stony Peak is the closest town to Lakeville, where I live, that has a shopping center. I scan the signs and grin as the one I'm looking for comes into view. I pull up neatly outside the store bearing a sign that reads 'Random City: Home of Cars, Comics, and CDs!"
A flash of white, red, and blue barely registers on the edge of my vision as I enter the store.
Shelves about shoulder height radiate out from the entrance, with half of them devoted to comics and magazines and the other half to car parts and models. The walls and back of the store are invisible under the floor to ceiling shelves that are filled with every type of music known to man.
"Hey, Terry! What brings you here," the girl behind the register greets. She is a little shorter than I am, with dyed purple hair in a cute pixie cut. She wears a green shirt and black pants under the hideous orange smock that all employees wear.
"Hey, Hannah," I say, giving her a smile. "Ya got any good music for me?"
"You bet," she says, ducking under the counter and pulling out a box overflowing with CD cases and rolled up posters. "I didn't know if you were still on that retro kick, so I just grabbed anything earlier than 2000 and hoped for the best," she explains, dumping about half of the box onto the counter. I move to glance through the pile as she keeps talking.
"We've got some Queen here, don't worry, I looked through the lyrics, all clean, as well as the Beatles and even some Led Zeppelin. I won't tell you how hard it was to find clean versions of their songs," she adds, wincing slightly.
"Hannah, you're the bomb," I say, grinning as I sort the music discs into two neat stacks. She shrugs, a small smile on her face.
"I try," she replies modestly, green eyes twinkling at the complement.
"What do we have in the car department," I ask, grabbing the smaller pile and putting the rest back into the box.
"Oh, you won't believe this," Hannah says, almost jumping up and down with excitement. That's the thing about Hannah; she could have been one of the popular girls at school before she graduated last year, but she is too in love with cars, superheroes, and music to care about anything else. She's normally really easy going, unless you insult Batman. Then she gets ticked. I watch as she drags a bigger, heavier box out from under the counter, this one filled with paint samples, small car parts, and doo dads.
"What the heck is this thing," I ask as a sparkle of light catches my eye from the bottom of the bin. My breath catches as I haul the thing out and the sparkly is exposed to the light. It is a piece of crystal as big as my head but light for its size, carved into a perfect sphere with markings on it, almost like runes, but I don't recognize them.
"Ohhhhh, shiny," I say, putting it down gently on the counter and rolling it slightly. I'm surprised when it lets out a soft ringing sound and stop it quickly.
"It was found a short ways from that meteor that crashed here a little while ago," Hannah says, also eyeing the ball. "It's probably made of glass, likely worthless," she adds, shrugging.
"Twenty bucks says that this little glow ball goes with me," I offer, seeing no price tag. Hannah shrugs again.
"Make it ten and you've got a deal. Ya want me to ring this up?" I nod distractedly as my friend totals up my purchases and bags them, the ball being the last to go, securely padded and triple bagged.
"Good luck, chika," Hannah says as I leave, smiling and waving. I smile back and wave as best I can with my bags.
"Bye Hannah, I'll try to see you next weekend," I say, and walk out, wrangling the keys from my purse an opening Barricade's back door. I toss the bags in the back and climb back into the driver's seat.
Another flash of color in the corner of my vision makes me turn, but nothing's there. Shrugging, I pull out of the parking space and, after picking up a few more things, start on the way home. I'll do my serious shopping, like for food and stuff, tomorrow. I break a few speed limits on the way home and, as soon as I pull into the garage, grab the bag of CDs from the back, taking the globe with me, and go upstairs to listen to my new finds.
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CWC: Sorry if that last bit seems slightly random, but trust me, it will be important much MUCH further on in the story.
Prowl-muse: (reads over proposed story line. Optics widen) What the-
(CWC appears behind him, hefts a wrench, and whacks the tactician over the helm. Prowl drops, unconscious)
CWC: Sorry, Prowler, can't have you telling all my secrets, can I? Okay, so if you read my author's not last chapter, you'll catch the honorable G1 mention in this chappie. First reviewer to get it gets an honorable mention at the beginning of next chapter. Until then, toodles!