Chapter 6 - Car 372
Submitted February 15, 2009 Updated April 26, 2009 Status Complete | My first ever Transformers fanfic and since the first part seemed to go down well, I decided to continue it into a full story. Roadtrain (c) Flankfire (of FA) Transformers (c) Hasbro Everything else (c) me (Amy)
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Chapter 6 - Car 372
Chapter 6 - Car 372
Up in the clouds in the early hours of the morning, a lone Apache AH-64A flew in the dense white of the clouds, purposely trying to avoid any other air borne traffic. Any other air borne traffic that did pick the alien gunship up on radar merely dismissed it as a blip; a fault in their system, something they'd have checked out when they touched down at their destination. Deadmetal had picked up on Carjack's precence almost immidiately after the Space Bridge had thrown him out. The only problem was; the Decepticon was a four week's journey away from his current location, something that irritated the Autobot beyond belief. Who knew how far ahead Turbulance was? He better not be that far ahead... Deadmetal grumbled to himself and sped up, the only comforting thought being that Speeder had made contact with the hunter as soon as all com static had cleared. He'd said he'd had a rough landing, but was still in one piece and currently being ferried across an ocean towards the continent where Carjack was located. He was two weeks away from the target. He just hoped that his speedy friend had done the wise thing and downloaded as much infomation on the planet as possible from the various satallites that sat in orbit around the large planet, something Deadmetal was still in the process of doing; Ninety percent of basic infomation had been downloaded and he groaned inwardly.
The washing machine sat back under the releative safety of the side board in the Ferman's kitchen, after having been found abandoned in someone's garage on the otherside of town. No one knew how it got there, excpet for the washing machine itself, the monstrous 4x4 that had been chasing it and even George had an inkling as to how it had ended up on the otherside of town too. Now it sat, watching the daily goings on once again, a slight hint of paranoia to call his own niggling away at the back of his mind. He'd managed to outrun the larger Decepticon, but how long would this bout of normality last?
''I'm off to work!'' George shouted.
His wife merely muttered, her words too quiet for him to hear, but not quiet enough to avoid the washing machine's attention. She was somewhat relieved to see the back of him, having gained another badly bruised eye from the previous night's argument about so-called giant robots, killer washing machines and regular burglars. The Decepticon ran through the various ways in which he would like to dismantle the violent Fox, but his train of thoughts was nudged to the side, a Decepticon insignia flashing up in the corner of his vision, a message attatched to it. He recognised the code from which it had been sent; it was the Decepticon who had been chasing him the night before. A fresh bolt of panic, a watery gurgle and he stopped dead, his sopping wet load being held in his drum, submerged by grubby, soapy water. The vixen with the swollen eye looked at him, a look of puzzlement on her features. She walked upto her washing machine, inspected it, then turned a knob, pushed a button and made sure the door was pushed firmly shut as a small dribble of water escaped. She said something under her breath, this time he didn't catch her words, his mind too busy with something else that posed a greater threat than any scrap yard ever could. He dimly watched her pick up the wall-suspended phone, then he finally realised what she was doing; phoning the repair man. Another moment's hesitation and the drum started spinning again, albeit slowly and laborously, but to her, the machine had once again righted itself. The phone was put back in the cradle and she settled down to her pile of overdue bills.
The washing machine seemed to study the message, debating to itself whether or not to look at it. The message was untitled. But it was a Decepticon message. But most Decepticons wanted him dismantled, melted down for spare parts, something which he didn't like the sound of. Finally, curiosity got the better of him he opened it, reading through the short message. It was a request. A simple one that carried a generous reward; second commandmanship of the Decepticons. At the bottom of the message was a single name; Carjack. He'd heard of Carjack before during his little bouts of spying on the Decepticon chatter, tapping into their network undetected. What he'd heard about this Carjack was that he was unreliable, a possible traitor to the Decepticon cause. Sounds like my kinda bot. He mused to himself. And being smaller than Carjack was, he could get into his joints if ever he went back on his word...
Anybody walking amongst the parked cars in the crammed parking lot would surely have noticed the strange-looking four wheeled vehicle, silver and blue in colour with a sports car shape about it. People who admired the vehicle assumed it to be a modified super car; something a car fanatic had been working on in his garage at home for years until he got the beautiful four wheeled monster just right, achieving that vision of perfection that only he wanted. Unbeknownst to the admirers, the vehicle had a name and a personality, a personality that went beyond the shining paint job and chrome, and the engine. Speeder just sat in the parking space, putting the two vehicles that were parked either side of him to shame, seemingly lapping up the attention. Pictures were taken on what he recognised to be camera phones, comments were made and speculations about his top speed and how fast he could reach it were added to the froth of awed and jealous chatter of the furs. Then his attention was pulled away from his musings over the differences between the Humans and the furs that now stood before him, admiring his body. It was a message, recieved from Deadmetal. Apparently, Carjack's signal had been slowly but surely moving from one side of the country to the other before completely disappearing. He'd asked for Speeder to stay put just incase it was a ruse, to throw them off his trail, an order Speeder could quite happily obey, what with all the admiration he was currently recieving. The only thing that truly bothered him, was that Deadmetal had relayed an order from Raid; To ditch his Cybertronian look and find something to blend in with, thusly making it more difficult to be spotted by Carjack. The only upside to the new 'guise he'd been ordered to take on was that Deadmetal too, had to ditch his Apache AH-64A, something that grated on the hunter's mind, having grown attatched to the helicopter due to it's manouverability, speed and firepower.
With those orders in mind, all Speeder had to do was wait until the coast was clear enough for him to pull away and to go and find a new 'guise. Though he was sat in a car park, stuffed full of all kinds of vehicles, neither one of them seemed fitting to him. All family cars, poor excuses for sports cars; something referred to on Earth as a 'Hair Dresser's Car', a title Speeder and a few other Autobots, including some Decepticons, agreed fitted the curved, lady-like vehicles. He wanted something that would avoid Carjack's attention completely, yet be able to get away with prowling the streets without being noted as suspicious. Or too suspicious anyway. And so, the day wore on, people came and went and so did the cars, the sun, much to Speeder's relief, following suit, sinking down to just above the building tops. This was his chance to get out of the car park. Not too many people around to notice an un-manned super car drive itself out onto the street.
The street was quiet, although far from empty. People were still going about their daily business, either on foot or by vehicle. Some pedestrians had anticipated the day's weather by weilding their umbrellas at their sides like weapons, as if ready for a sudden attack from above. The dark clouds were rolling in low and fast, a thick, grey mist hanging beneath them on the horizon; a sure sign of rain. Speeder continued on, on a constant vigil for the vehicle that matched his personally set requirements. He turned a corner at a junction, going left, then across at the next then right. A red light stopped him as a group of furs walked by on the white striped markings painted onto the dark tarmac. As the people filtered past he saw what he was looking for; his new disguise. A small, secluded parking lot opposite, containing the vehicle he desired, one that seemed abandoned, unlike it's blue and silver counterparts that were parked up neatly in the road opposite. The light went green and he moved forward again, pulled into the right hand lane and swung into the small parking lot where the battered car was sat under an eaves made of corrigated steel sheets and scaffolding. The area was perfectly secluded, only a questing eye would've spotted it. He rolled up to the old car and examined it. a set of blue and red lights sat atop it's roof, the only panels that weren't dark blue but white were the front doors, the boot lid and the bonnet, which suffered a hefty dent. The rear windows were darkly tinted and the front windows were lightly tinted. Across the sides, written in large, capital letters was the word POLICE outlined in a deep, bronze style colour. Three of the four tyres were flat, but it didn't bother Speeder one bit.
I can suffer with this... He mused to himself, and an electric blue laser swept over the damaged police cruiser, something that was only visible to Speeder himself. It only took a split-second for the information to become embedded into his system, shunting his true form aside and manipulating his light blue into a darker shade, the simply stated word POLICE fading into view on his swiftly re-shaping doors. The sirens seemingly grew out of his roof to fix themselves onto him and before any passerbys had a chance to notice, the odd looking super car had been reformed into a clone of the cruiser that sat, useless beneath the eaves of the small parking lot, bull-bar and all. A quick tap into the police network revealed that car 372 had been vandalised after being abandoned in the industrial park on the other side of town after a group of thieves somehow managed to steal it. It was now listed as a write-off. Speeder chuckled at the thought of a group of bored teenagers stealing a cop car. Although it was good to see the law trying to stop crimes. Back on Earth, the police had all but given up. He reversed carefully back out onto the road and pulled away as the rain started making itself known.
The washing machine sat back under the releative safety of the side board in the Ferman's kitchen, after having been found abandoned in someone's garage on the otherside of town. No one knew how it got there, excpet for the washing machine itself, the monstrous 4x4 that had been chasing it and even George had an inkling as to how it had ended up on the otherside of town too. Now it sat, watching the daily goings on once again, a slight hint of paranoia to call his own niggling away at the back of his mind. He'd managed to outrun the larger Decepticon, but how long would this bout of normality last?
''I'm off to work!'' George shouted.
His wife merely muttered, her words too quiet for him to hear, but not quiet enough to avoid the washing machine's attention. She was somewhat relieved to see the back of him, having gained another badly bruised eye from the previous night's argument about so-called giant robots, killer washing machines and regular burglars. The Decepticon ran through the various ways in which he would like to dismantle the violent Fox, but his train of thoughts was nudged to the side, a Decepticon insignia flashing up in the corner of his vision, a message attatched to it. He recognised the code from which it had been sent; it was the Decepticon who had been chasing him the night before. A fresh bolt of panic, a watery gurgle and he stopped dead, his sopping wet load being held in his drum, submerged by grubby, soapy water. The vixen with the swollen eye looked at him, a look of puzzlement on her features. She walked upto her washing machine, inspected it, then turned a knob, pushed a button and made sure the door was pushed firmly shut as a small dribble of water escaped. She said something under her breath, this time he didn't catch her words, his mind too busy with something else that posed a greater threat than any scrap yard ever could. He dimly watched her pick up the wall-suspended phone, then he finally realised what she was doing; phoning the repair man. Another moment's hesitation and the drum started spinning again, albeit slowly and laborously, but to her, the machine had once again righted itself. The phone was put back in the cradle and she settled down to her pile of overdue bills.
The washing machine seemed to study the message, debating to itself whether or not to look at it. The message was untitled. But it was a Decepticon message. But most Decepticons wanted him dismantled, melted down for spare parts, something which he didn't like the sound of. Finally, curiosity got the better of him he opened it, reading through the short message. It was a request. A simple one that carried a generous reward; second commandmanship of the Decepticons. At the bottom of the message was a single name; Carjack. He'd heard of Carjack before during his little bouts of spying on the Decepticon chatter, tapping into their network undetected. What he'd heard about this Carjack was that he was unreliable, a possible traitor to the Decepticon cause. Sounds like my kinda bot. He mused to himself. And being smaller than Carjack was, he could get into his joints if ever he went back on his word...
Anybody walking amongst the parked cars in the crammed parking lot would surely have noticed the strange-looking four wheeled vehicle, silver and blue in colour with a sports car shape about it. People who admired the vehicle assumed it to be a modified super car; something a car fanatic had been working on in his garage at home for years until he got the beautiful four wheeled monster just right, achieving that vision of perfection that only he wanted. Unbeknownst to the admirers, the vehicle had a name and a personality, a personality that went beyond the shining paint job and chrome, and the engine. Speeder just sat in the parking space, putting the two vehicles that were parked either side of him to shame, seemingly lapping up the attention. Pictures were taken on what he recognised to be camera phones, comments were made and speculations about his top speed and how fast he could reach it were added to the froth of awed and jealous chatter of the furs. Then his attention was pulled away from his musings over the differences between the Humans and the furs that now stood before him, admiring his body. It was a message, recieved from Deadmetal. Apparently, Carjack's signal had been slowly but surely moving from one side of the country to the other before completely disappearing. He'd asked for Speeder to stay put just incase it was a ruse, to throw them off his trail, an order Speeder could quite happily obey, what with all the admiration he was currently recieving. The only thing that truly bothered him, was that Deadmetal had relayed an order from Raid; To ditch his Cybertronian look and find something to blend in with, thusly making it more difficult to be spotted by Carjack. The only upside to the new 'guise he'd been ordered to take on was that Deadmetal too, had to ditch his Apache AH-64A, something that grated on the hunter's mind, having grown attatched to the helicopter due to it's manouverability, speed and firepower.
With those orders in mind, all Speeder had to do was wait until the coast was clear enough for him to pull away and to go and find a new 'guise. Though he was sat in a car park, stuffed full of all kinds of vehicles, neither one of them seemed fitting to him. All family cars, poor excuses for sports cars; something referred to on Earth as a 'Hair Dresser's Car', a title Speeder and a few other Autobots, including some Decepticons, agreed fitted the curved, lady-like vehicles. He wanted something that would avoid Carjack's attention completely, yet be able to get away with prowling the streets without being noted as suspicious. Or too suspicious anyway. And so, the day wore on, people came and went and so did the cars, the sun, much to Speeder's relief, following suit, sinking down to just above the building tops. This was his chance to get out of the car park. Not too many people around to notice an un-manned super car drive itself out onto the street.
The street was quiet, although far from empty. People were still going about their daily business, either on foot or by vehicle. Some pedestrians had anticipated the day's weather by weilding their umbrellas at their sides like weapons, as if ready for a sudden attack from above. The dark clouds were rolling in low and fast, a thick, grey mist hanging beneath them on the horizon; a sure sign of rain. Speeder continued on, on a constant vigil for the vehicle that matched his personally set requirements. He turned a corner at a junction, going left, then across at the next then right. A red light stopped him as a group of furs walked by on the white striped markings painted onto the dark tarmac. As the people filtered past he saw what he was looking for; his new disguise. A small, secluded parking lot opposite, containing the vehicle he desired, one that seemed abandoned, unlike it's blue and silver counterparts that were parked up neatly in the road opposite. The light went green and he moved forward again, pulled into the right hand lane and swung into the small parking lot where the battered car was sat under an eaves made of corrigated steel sheets and scaffolding. The area was perfectly secluded, only a questing eye would've spotted it. He rolled up to the old car and examined it. a set of blue and red lights sat atop it's roof, the only panels that weren't dark blue but white were the front doors, the boot lid and the bonnet, which suffered a hefty dent. The rear windows were darkly tinted and the front windows were lightly tinted. Across the sides, written in large, capital letters was the word POLICE outlined in a deep, bronze style colour. Three of the four tyres were flat, but it didn't bother Speeder one bit.
I can suffer with this... He mused to himself, and an electric blue laser swept over the damaged police cruiser, something that was only visible to Speeder himself. It only took a split-second for the information to become embedded into his system, shunting his true form aside and manipulating his light blue into a darker shade, the simply stated word POLICE fading into view on his swiftly re-shaping doors. The sirens seemingly grew out of his roof to fix themselves onto him and before any passerbys had a chance to notice, the odd looking super car had been reformed into a clone of the cruiser that sat, useless beneath the eaves of the small parking lot, bull-bar and all. A quick tap into the police network revealed that car 372 had been vandalised after being abandoned in the industrial park on the other side of town after a group of thieves somehow managed to steal it. It was now listed as a write-off. Speeder chuckled at the thought of a group of bored teenagers stealing a cop car. Although it was good to see the law trying to stop crimes. Back on Earth, the police had all but given up. He reversed carefully back out onto the road and pulled away as the rain started making itself known.
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