CHAPTER THREE
--Earth--
The weather at this particular time of year was never to Sherman's liking. The first week or so of June was generally tolerable for the most part, but once it got to be officially Summer, that was when the humidity really kicked in.
Sure, he was used to it; he had been for most of his life. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy swatting bugs or wiping sweat from his forehead. In fact, he hated it most of the time. But it was the duty of him and his community to watch over the land and he would darn well watch over it until the day he died.
As he took a quick swig from his canteen, he heard the sound of an engine coming from the distance. Through the haze of the sun, he could make out the shape of a large tow truck as it made its way towards the gate. Putting away his canteen, Sherman pulled on the reins of his horse and rode over to meet the truck as it rolled to a halt.
"Back already, Yeager?" Sherman said to the man in the driver's seat. "Not even half past four yet."
"Wanted to get back before traffic started up," replied Cade Yeager. "Slim pickings, anyway. Only found an old Ford Mustang."
Sherman looked over to the yellow car attached to the back of the truck. Black racing stripes stretched from its hood all the way to the trunk. While he wasn't much of an automobile enthusiast, he had to admit it was a nice looking car.
"Where do you even find these things?" he asked. "This is like, what, your third one this week?"
Cade shrugged. "Must be the season or something. Besides, I've been at this long enough to know the hot spots of my trade."
"Won't deny that." Sherman slapped the side of the truck before raising the tollgate. "Off you go."
With a loud rumble, the tow truck moved forward and rolled onto the land of the Sioux, dragging the yellow car behind.
* * *
"S'all right, everyone. It's just Cade."
Metal pistons groaned as the giant robot dinosaur lowered back down into the sea of scrap it had been resting in. A small purple drone hurried over to cover Grimlock back up with a tarp, cursing as the wind threatened to blow it away.
"I still think we should come up with a secret horn honk or something," Fistfight grumbled.
Jimmy Pink ignored the griping machine as he walked through the junkyard towards the arriving tow truck. Once it had rolled to a halt, Cade jumped out and set about unhooking the yellow Mustang from the back.
"This one for Bumblebee?" Jimmy asked.
"Yeah," Cade replied. "Got it for cheap from Joe's lot."
Jimmy looked over to see a small yellow Autobot carefully stepping over to them. Bumblebee regarded the Mustang with a frown as disappointment colored his optical sensors.
"Uh... it's not exactly the prettiest thing I've seen," he murmured.
"Your boss tells me you guys need disguises that won't make people look twice at you," Cade said. "A Mustang is perfect for that."
"Still, there's a line between too pretty and too crappy."
Cade threw his arms up. "Look, you don't have to like it. I can go out next week and try to find something different, but until then--"
Bumblebee chuckled. "Relax, I'm just messing with you." A pair of scanning beams emitting from the Autobot's optics. Once his scan of the Mustang was complete, he turned for the main compound. "Thanks, Cade. I'll have Wheeljack retrofit my chassis."
Cade blew out his breath. "Great. Glad to hear it."
He watched the Autobot leave before turning to face Jimmy. "They've only been here for little over a week and already it feels like it's been months."
Jimmy shrugged. "Seems like you're adjusting well to them. You've already memorized their names."
"Only the ones whose names are actual words. I still can't get their boss-lady's name straight; Leader-One or something like that." Cade lifted his baseball cap to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I'm just wondering why these kids have been hanging out with them to begin with."
"Well, at least that Fowler guy's paying you good money," Jimmy said.
Cade grunted. "Yeah. Supposedly."
* * *
"You're sure you want me to do this for you, Arcee? You're asking for a pretty extensive reformatting."
"You've heard what Elita's said, Wheeljack," Arcee replied. "We're going to need disguises that Sector Seven won't associate with us. Besides, I've had this body-type before; it won't bee too drastic a change for me."
Wheeljack shrugged as he rolled the magenta and white car away. "All right. Just give me a moment."
As the engineer departed, Arcee turned around to see Elita-One standing behind her, arms folded across her chest. Arcee met her sister's gaze for a second before shifting her attention to the sun.
"Any word from Springer's team, yet?" she asked.
"No," Elita replied. "However, we have picked up a signal from Jazz's team. We'll try and arrange a pickup once we know the coast is clear."
Arcee nodded, surveying the junkyard that had become their current base of operations. After they had fled from their original base, Fowler had contacted an associate of his who did not have any ties to Sector Seven and arranged for the private piece of land to serve as shelter. Not long after that, Jetfire had gotten in touch with Elita and safely rendezvoused with her team and the crew of the Axalon.
This still left Jazz and Springer's unit unaccounted for, but Arcee had faith they were faring well on their own. Besides, she knew this wasn't why Elita had struck up conversation....
"I saw her," Elita stated abruptly.
Arcee glanced at her. "Saw who?"
"Your sister. Our sister."
She made an impatient sound. "Which one?"
"Elita-Six. Though she calls herself 'Blackarachnia' now."
"Was she with the Predacons?"
"Back in Verenya, yes. I didn't encounter her myself but I did spot her and another Predacon fighting Bumblebee."
Arcee sighed. "And just what, exactly, do you expect me to do about it?"
"I'm not expecting you to do anything," Elita said calmly. "I'm simply informing you so that, if we encounter the Predacons again, you are prepared for...."
She trailed off as Wheeljack returned. The engineer stopped as he looked between the two sisters, picking up on the tension that was in the air.
"Uh, I'm not intruding on anything, am I?"
"No," Arcee said quickly, stepping over to him. "You're fine."
"Uh-huh." Wheeljack eyed the two dubiously. "Well, whenever you're ready...."
Without a word, Arcee followed him to his impromptu lab, leaving Elita to stand alone as she watched her sister with a disappointed frown.
* * *
"Has anyone seen the Junkions?"
Cheetor snorted as he was roused awake. The cheetah lifted his head and squinted his eyes at the sunlight before finally adjusting his visuals to make out Depth Charge standing over him.
"Can't say that I have," Cheetor answered with a yawn. "Why?"
"Seems like no one has," Depth Charge grunted, looking around the junkyard with a suspicious look. "I told Primal and the others we should keep a close watch on them. They're not trustworthy."
"Maybe they're just digging around somewhere," Cheetor said, resting his head again. "It's a big junkyard and, I mean, they are Junkions."
"Exactly," Depth Charge growled. "Which means they're probably up to no good."
With that, the ex-Peace Marshal sauntered off. Cheetor watched him go before shaking his head and returning to his nap.
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