Cybertronians are vehicles, therefore, there needs to be some high speed chases in here somewhere. We are finally at the exciting parts. *Fistpumps*
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A full belly. A slightly cleaner person. Being inside a warm truck with the window cracked open just enough to let the slightest breeze of chill wind blow past my hair. A calm and quiet state...
"HOOOONNNKKK."
The quiet disappeared as a horn sounded. Dang. Idiot driver behind me was acting like I was holding everybody up. Got news for you buddy, I don't want to be here either. At least I was making the best of it and I'd been doing so well at relaxing too. Being a pretty patient person comes in handy sometimes, but there was only so much sitting in still traffic that I could take and this many grouchy people around was making me annoyed. Idiots, I huffed resignedly.
It was past noon by the time things cleared up and I stopped for a bite to eat. I pulled my heavier coat on and shivered under the denim Thank goodness for warm trucker jackets and vehicle heating systems. I tied my hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way and decided to give myself a fifteen minute break. No need to push myself after yesterday evening. Lying on the back seats, my eyes closed as I munched an apple and granola bar. Urgh my chest hurt. The bruises everywhere else were ignorable but my ribs were aching something fierce. Laying down instead of sitting up helped a little at least. Poking at Mischief and Sullen as I ate, they sent a jittery feeling instead of the usual greeting. Or not greeting in Sullen's case.
What the-? "Did you just tickle me?"
I peeked one eye open to see the less social light just swishing in lazy loops. Mischief bounced and zipped, all the while both were sending more shivery pokes and proddings. They were trying to tickle me.
"Hey, you started it. Don't say you didn't expect this." I warned them before branching out and sending the feeling back.
At first I wasn't sure if I'd done it right but the orbs seemed to shiver for a moment before skittering around in frenzied circles. A chuckle broke out of my mouth as our little game continued. Inside I felt proud that even Sullen was participating. Although, it could have been he just didn't want to let anyone 'tickle' him and get away scotch free.
It took a couple of minutes to convince them to stop so I could go back to driving. Feeling rather content, even with my battered state, I started the engine back up. And got another jitter from Mischief. Oi. After mentally putting my foot down to let him know I meant business, we continued on.
"Let's get this show on the road, boys." I murmured with the slightest twist of my lips upward as we headed west.
They were close, very close. Dirge circled high above the state route as Soundwave directed him. The dark jet glided down further. Below, the gleaming line of cars moved like ants, all scurrying to be somewhere. Among them was Wildrider. The crazy Ferrari roared his engine as he tried to stay at least relatively near the others of his faction while causing havoc on the road.
The tracker showed they were almost on top of the signals, "Wildrider: Take alternate route ahead. Do not let the quarry pass."
Instead of responding to the order through the comm. links, the obsidian sports car merely zipped off to the right and barreled down a curving road with a screech of rubber. Dirge flew just above the treeline now and the cars nearby slowed as people gawked and stared. Perhaps they were wondering if the blue and gold plane was in trouble and about to land. Not that it mattered to the Decepticons. The pitiful humans were merely in the way of their mission. A mission that would be over soon. The signals were right below.
Perhaps it was the fact that lunch was over or maybe it was just where we were at, but there were less cars now. Large fields and scatterings of buildings seemed to fly by our window as we rolled along. It was pretty empty out there in the dry scrub lands. Occasionally croppings of dry looking trees were spotted, nestled together like gossiping old women. I wondered briefly if any of the vehicles in front or behind me were actually headed to the towns I could see to my left and right. Or if they, like me, were just passing through.
Not really thinking about it, my fingers turned the knob and a radio station came on. I suppose I'd just had enough silence. Scrolling through, I winced. As expected; static, pop, rock, static, static, country, more static, politics, something in Spanish, commercial, static, economics? No clue what they were talking about, pop, advertisements, country. Urgh. A sigh blew out as I kept my eyes on the road. They rarely played anything I recognized or liked. Every once in a while an oldie would come on and I'd sing along, although singing was not one of my talents.
Growing bored of flipping through stations, I shut it off and went back to my mental color observations. A couple of days ago I'd started to count how many red vehicles, green, blue, silver and so on, that I could see. It kept me focused and I'd noted that white, silver, and black held the majority. Maybe people had a thing against color.
So mentally tallying up colors was what I had occupying my time as we went along, watching everyone moving about in the bright cold day, when there seemed to be a commotion ahead. Red lights flicked on as people slowed to a stop. There was a relatively large distance between myself and the drivers ahead, so I only slowed down to twenty-five instead of stopping completely. In front, one of the stopped vehicles revved their engine and made a sharp curve, driving right off the road and into someone's field.
That's odd. Why would someone do that? And then my eyes caught on another person, this one climbing out of their vehicle and taking off at a run. Several other drivers lay on their horns, probably wondering what was going on, the same as me. A sick feeling of unease scuttled into my midsection.
I wondered briefly just what it was that they could see ahead. What the hell was going on? I applied the brake and hoped that the drivers behind me didn't rear-end my dad's truck.
A screech of tires and crunching metal met my ears as a horn went off. In front, two vehicles crashed to the side of the road as a dark car collided and pushed between them. One of the cars rolled into a ditch on the opposite side of the road. I froze, my breath catching in my throat in surprise and shock. My fingers locked onto the wheel and tried to process what just happened.
'That car, he's going the wrong way...'
The offender stilled in the middle of the state route, engine snarling and grill pointed straight at me. I don't know vehicles that well, but I'd grown up with my dad. Which meant I knew a Ferrari when I saw one. This was a very sleek looking vehicle with a black paint job and low slung framing built for speed. The headlights flashed and engine growled as it sat facing my truck. To my back, several vehicles had stopped and then tried to make U-turns as they caught sight of the damage. Now I knew why those people ahead were trying to get off the road. A lightheaded feeling invaded my core as I stared at the sports car.
Heavily tinted windows kept me from seeing inside, but he could obviously see me, as he easily spoke in a loud rumble even over the distance between us, "Come one little human. Wanna see if you can run?" Insanity quite obvious in his voice.
Oh...
A litany of empty curses rolled through my head with no real emotion pushing them, just plain habit. My breath became shallow as sweat popped up on my brow. One of those Decepticons from before must have seen me leaving the muddy field with the container. They were after the lights. I had been right to worry about being followed. A hysterical voice in the back of my head tried to shout at me to run.
Loud growling met my ears as the monstrosity down the pavement roared his engines again and inched forward. He was taunting me. My lips thinned and I flicked my eyes around, trying to think of an escape.
"SHIT...!" I suddenly yelped.
A small explosion had gone off at the rear with a sharp crackling noise and several bangs. My truck bounced on it's axles as I curled up a little to avoid hitting anything. I twisted around to see smoke rising from the road not a few feet behind. A check in the side mirror showed a brand new steaming hole in the road that was at least four feet across and deep enough to stop me from reversing. I spat out another bit of profanity and hissed as I caught a glimpse of a blue, black and gold jet doing a loop to come back around. Bastard was probably a Decepticon too! And now I was hedged in unless I went off road. That wouldn't stop the jet and it would slow me down...
A deep rumble that sounded like laughter came from the sleek machine in front and my lips curled up in disgust. If that's how you want to play... I brushed my hand down to the glow of the orbs.
They were neatly placed next to the driver's seat with my bags and a few other items to hold them in place. I didn't need to touch the glass to feel them reaching out, reacting to my fear and desperation. But I did anyway, if only to physically reassure myself of their presence. Those cons may have killed the red and yellow ones, but they weren't getting the lights.
I glared hard at the sports car to show just how furious I was over the death of those Autobots as the jet came into view in my mirror. Times up. Sending the emotional equivalent of a 'hold on tight', I edged my foot off the brake and onto the gas petal. The grounded Decepticon edged forward again.
"You really think I'll just hand 'em over?"
The words were hissed quietly but perhaps the enemy heard them anyways. Perhaps not. Either way, he shot forward. I hit the gas.
I'm not good at distance but it seemed to me we covered a lot of space in only a little bit of time. My chest hurt from how fast the internal beating was and my limbs went rigid, locking the wheel so I couldn't turn. Faintly, I realized I was playing chicken with a Decepticon, a death machine that killed people. Another part of me snarled furiously at the thought that he would dare to mess with me. If they wanted the lights, they would have to catch me first. Shay Carpenter did not let people just walk all over her.
But at the same time I knew head-on collisions had the worst survival rates. I realized I was probably about to die in a really painful way. I knew that, my mind knew that, but the weight of the situation just didn't seem to click.
Twenty feet. I couldn't look away. In the movies, they slow things down so you can see everything that happens. I don't know if that actually happens for everyone else, but it didn't for me. Time didn't slow at all. My thoughts seemed to speed up. Fifteen feet. Funny how it's hardly been two or three seconds. I usually wouldn't have noticed the passage of such a short amount of time.
Ten feet. My truck was bigger than the little flashy vehicle. Sturdier too. He can go faster, but I've got more bulk. And once I speed up it's hard to slow down. I wonder if he knows head on collisions hurt. Maybe he doesn't care.
Five feet. He's right in front of me. All I can see is the shining black metal and reflective glass about to ram into me head on. Everything else around is a blur. I don't think I've blinked since I gunned it. There are more explosions behind. Is the other one really still shooting at me?
Right there in front of me. This is going to hurt. Oh.
30 minute before hand
"Sir? We've got a call from the state patrol on the west side of Idaho. Several officers spotted a driver-less Ferrari causing wrecks and an unidentified dark blue and gold F-15 in the area. The descriptions match Wildrider and Dirge." Hound stood by the large screens of Teletran-1, having just finished a call with some troubled authorities.
The monochrome officer nodded to show he heard and sent a comm. link to the Prime. A few seconds passed before he tried to talk to their weapon specialist. He gave another nod, this one almost to himself.
"Ironhide's comm. link is off and he's in the shooting range. Get him for me please." Prowl passed the order before jumping back onto their communications system.
'Tracks, Bluestreak. Both of you and Ironhide have an assignment.' After quickly filling them in the SIC continued, 'Your alt modes are faster, so go ahead.'
'Hide will catch up?' The gunner questioned.
'Yes, just get over there quickly. You may go above the posted speeds, just drive carefully and take the roads with less civilians.' Prowl clicked off the link. He didn't need to hear the excited babble of the younger Praxian as he returned his attention to Teletran. Of course Bluestreak (and probably Tracks) were excited. It wasn't often they were given permission to really stretch out their engines and show just how much faster they were to the human's vehicles. But this was serious business.
And it didn't fit well with the stoic tactician. Why would the Decepticons risk being only a state away from the Autobot base so recently after the Twins death? They knew with certainty the Autobots were just itching for a chance to get them back. And none of the Decepticon fliers liked to work with the ground based vehicles, even in their own faction.
But yet, it seemed Dirge and Wildrider were up to something nearby. It felt like he was missing a bit of the puzzle here, and he couldn't accurately plan unless he had all the pieces. Frigid optics studied the screen as he focused their scanners on Idaho.
What was missing?
Suggested music: Sling the Decks (Single Barrel Mix)- Crystal Method
Present time
My arm jerked reflexively and my trusty pick-up moved just barely to the right. Screams and shrieks of metal berate my ears as the smaller car slams into me. He didn't pull away, I did and the sides scrape past each other in tearing and sparks. My driver's side window fractures with large pieces being ripped away by the force of our collision. The left hand mirror is gone and a shudder goes through the framing, making my vehicle buck and jolt. I bounce a little in my seat. Thank goodness for seat belts.
As suddenly as it happens, he's gone. A blurred streak of black that shoots past as I jerk the wheel to straighten and stay on the road. My back tires slide before everything stabilizes and I remember to breath. I suck in a lungful and slam the gas again, rocketing forward as a screech of rubber on pavement sounds behind. I don't need to look to know he's trying to turn around. Adrenaline burns through me as I barrel down the road and pray that I can escape.
The bash at the side stole a little of my speed but I was still going nearly eighty down the blacktop and gaining speed by the second. It was hard to hear anything over the engine and turbulent air rushing in the shattered window. More chunks fell out to break against the ground and left larger gaping holes for the wind. I was a bit too distracted to care though.
"Drive, drive, drive..." Repeating my mantra, I tried to keep from hyperventilating and failed miserably. My arms shook as I gripped the wheel and took a sharp curve to the right, skidding around other vehicles. Some of which were very much wrecked. Didn't take a genius to see who'd been through here. Fear kept it's claws in me as I shoved down all out panic and sent reassurance to Mischief and Sullen. They just radiated worry and nervousness back. I didn't blame them. If I were in a glass container and defenseless, I'd be a bit freaked out too.
A hard tremor ran through and lifted everything into the air for a couple seconds, "DAMN!"
I snarled as I tried to hold the container in place with one hand and steer with the other. My fingers graced foreign metal before it rolled just out of reach and smacked against the passenger seat. My rear-view showed that sleek, black, and crazy was back. Stupid overgrown toaster had rammed me...
I put both hands back on the wheel and floored it. The poor engine whined in protest that it was already going as fast it could, the needle hovering near the very end of the scale. Crazy chicken playing Decepticon slowed before speeding up and smashing into the vehicle's rear again. Didn't that hurt him?! There was no way the truck was going to survive this.
"Quit playing with me already!"
I roared out-loud as my foot hit the brake and I slowed enough to make a left turn, now going down a narrower stretch. The black sports car was right on my tail but couldn't try another stunt because we were both distracted by the pot holes.
My body jounced up and down with a grunt spilling from my mouth. Oooooh, my ribs. I was going to have words with whoever paved this sorry excuse of a road. Almost all of my driver's window was gone by now as the bumps loosened the rest of it. If the shocks hadn't been shot so far on this trip, they will be after this, I thought as a speck in the sky caught my vision.
Awww, come on! Not the jet again! It was far ahead in front and aimed toward me. I would have bet good money that it was going to fire soon.
There, an intersection. Jerking to the right, my breath stopped in my chest as the wheels on the side lifted from the ground. Thankfully, we landed with a thud instead of tipping. The orbs rolled closer to my seat and I wished I had something to tie them down with. Let's hope they can't get motion sickness.
"Get out of here you idiotic...!" There were other cars on the road ahead. Not enough to be called heavy traffic but I had to worry about not hitting anybody. Stupid people! Do you not see the danger?! Get out of here!
I jerked the steering wheel, sliding around some morons who actually honked at me. The Decepticon sports car slammed right past them and the other vehicles skidded off into someone's front yard. Cringing, I tried to keep my eyes on the road while checking the sky for the circling plane.
Suddenly, a gray car slipped in from the right and shot between myself and my pursuer. Briefly I wondered why in the world anyone would pull a dangerous stunt like that until I got a better look in the mirror. It was an older vehicle with a sleek design, in well kept condition, and no driver. There were no words to how completely frustrated and helpless I felt, until the newcomer pulled a sharp three-sixty with ease and sidled up to the left side of the con. Another one appeared behind, navy blue with an oddly curved hood and flame decal on the front. He was seriously shiny and with a smooth gliding of wheels, pulled up to the destructive vehicle. They were boxing him in! A raging snarl came from the Con that could be heard even over all the other din.
All three were obviously sports cars and had no trouble going way over a hundred. I decided there was no way I was going to try and out run them. Seeing another exit ahead, I cut the corner, shooting across the grass before lunging back onto the road and away from the looming fight. A hiss due to my protesting injuries at the bumpy ride was drowned out by squealing tires and roaring engines. A quick look behind showed they continued past without turning.
Yes! Using my internal hope to spur myself, I quickly slipped down several roads and turned at random points until I was around several small hills and out of view. If that annoying jet didn't follow me I would be home free. Ignoring the loud sounds of metal on metal and motors, I slipped away from the carnage.
Music: Sound of Madness- Shinedown
"'Bout time you showed your sorry faces Auto-glitches!" Laughed Wildrider, forgetting the target in favor for playing with the enemy.
But that was apparently the wrong thing to say. The Autobots had lost some of their own to the Cons and now, here was a perfect target taunting them. Bad move. Very bad move.
Bluestreak had dealt with this particular Stunticon before and remembered quite well his fondness for ramming things (and people). So he drifted just out of reach anytime the Con started to edge toward him. Then, when there weren't so many human vehicles near them, he braked and slammed right, smashing into Wildrider's back left side.
The Ferrari started to fishtail with a yell and gears locked as he tried to straighten out his wheels. Tracks pulled back and then shot forward to give a hard nudge to the out of control vehicle. Wildrider spun around completely and transformed, limbs flying as he tried to right himself. Sparks flew up from the black top as he landed in a crouch, sliding backwards and with one hand dug into the pavement.
"Aauuuuwwwh. Did I piss you of-..." Another taunt, this one cut off with a shot from the silvery sniper who had braked and transformed.
The blast went past the black and red cybertronian's helm, just barely grazing his shoulder plating. He dodged to the left, crushing a fence under foot, just as another shot hit him in the lower midsection. With a growl of pain, he lunged at Bluestreak. The gunners face went from a hard glare to fearful startlement in a split second as he quickly backpedaled and gave a duck and roll. Barely avoiding a slash of clawed digits, he rapidly stood to find Tracks trading blows with their enemy.
"DECEPTICON!" A battle roar thundered into their area; rage, promised pain, and something completely terrifying evident in the cry.
Everyone paused for a breath and then a blur of darker crimson bulldozed past the gunner and straight towards the fighters. Before Wildrider knew just what had hit him, he was on the ground with a seriously pissed off weapon specialist tearing chunks out of his armor. The con screeched in distress as his arm was mangled and nearly pulled off completely.
Ironhide did not like losing comrades. It didn't matter if they were annoying slaggers who irritated him, he was tired of losing people to this war. So one furious war fighter plus not being allowed to leave the base until now equaled a serious smack-down on whoever happened to be available. It stood to reason that they were out of training drones again. And how he had gotten here so quickly when the others had a head start and faster vehicle modes was going to remain a mystery.
The blue and red-orange corvette backed away with a look of disdain at the con. There was no way he was getting in the middle of that, he had enough scratches as it was. Bluestreak resisted the urge to wince. Wildrider was a con. The cons killed the Twins, so he deserved it. Ironhide tore out another chunk of armor, spraying energon and sparking wires into the air. Okay, mostly deserved it.
Going with Track's mentality, the Datsun decided not to get in the way and moved to try and help the few remaining humans clear out of the area when blaster shots rained down from above. Dirge looped around and peppered the air with deadly fire. Ironhide snarled and backed off the whimpering Wildrider to take pot shots at the ultramarine flier.
Easily dodging, the dark jet swooped down to nearly graze the Autobots. Bluestreak partially ducked and brought up his rifle, firing at the aerial con who was already several hundred yards away and climbing higher.
"Get back here yah cowardly Conehead!"
The weapon specialist howled, turning away from the downed Ferrari. Never turn your back to an injured Decepticon, no matter how badly beaten up. With a trembling red servo, Wildrider reached into his subspace to draw out his gun.
Aiming the blaster, his vents cycled noisily and with painful sounding sputters. The trigger was pulled with a jerk, the shot projected forward, and the blast clipped the heavily armored van in the back. Ironhide yelped in surprise and fell over to crash onto the ground, energon starting to splutter from the new hole in his back. Bluestreak rushed to cover him while the red Autobot barked an order to Tracks.
"Bring that seeker down!"
The narcissistic bot pulled out his missiles and aimed at Dirge, but didn't fire as the con disappeared into the cloud bank above. Scowling, he turned to find the youngest helping up the old veteran. And three pairs of light cerulean optics found an empty energon-stained spot on the ground where Wildrider had previously been.
While Ironhide clenched his jaw, Bluestreak spoke up, "Well, we can still track him. There's got to be energon leaking off him all over the place and if we follow it we can find that Con. Not to mention he probably didn't get too far with how wounded he is. We'll have to find something to stop that wound of yours from leaking though..."
"Blue." Ironhide's growl efficiently cut off the chatter as the gunner jerked his worried optics away from 'Hide's injury.
"Yes?"
"Hush yer vocalizah." came a snarl. Someone was apparently not done venting. And unfortunately for him, the intended target of his wrath had just vanished.