Canterlot High School: Library
Twilight found herself groaning when she heard her phone ringing, and she heard a shush from the librarian, Ms. Cheerilee. Whispering a “Sorry!” she turned her attentions back to her ringing phone.
The ringtone, it was an old tune, jazzy in nature. (She blamed her older brother for turning her on to things like John Coltrane) She looked at the face of who was calling and smiled slightly when she saw Sugarcoat’s face.
Twilight went upstairs to a secluded area amongst some bookshelves and answered the phone. Nearby, the Canterlot Movie Club, or the CMC for short gave her some glares as well as they glanced up from a history textbook.
Whispering another apology, she sighed and held her phone up to her ear.
“...Really, you couldn’t have called me after school?” Twilight groaned. “You’re lucky I’m in the library, not in a class and earning myself a detention! A detention!” Twilight squeaked in fear. She could have sworn she heard Sugarcoat chuckle at the other end of the line.
“Sorry,” Sugarcoat apologized before chuckling again. “Never change Twi, never change. New school, same old you. Only you’d be in a library freaking out over detentions while it’s lunchtime. ...Seriously, why aren’t you at the cafeteria at this hour?” she asked.
“Brought my own quick snack, fruit bars and a bottle of water. Quick and healthy, so I could catch up on my studies.” Twilight replied.
“...Oh, we’re getting off topic anyways,” Sugarcoat sighed. “Listen, can you run down something on the computer?”
“What’s this about?”
“License plate of some loon who tried to run Indigo down last night.” her friend explained. Twilight let out a sharp, short gasp of shock.
“Oh my God, she alright?”
“I said tried, didn’t I?” Sugarcoat asked flatly. “But can you…?”
“Yeah, I’ll get on…” Twilight trailed off as she saw a curious looking creature looking at her through a window. It was largely orange, with some gold flecks and avian in nature. “...Uh, listen, I gotta call you right back. Something just came up.” Twilight whispered, in awe at the bird as she approached it. As she got closer, her eyes widened as she noticed the mechanical nature of the creature.
“...Far beyond any technology that I know off. Like some sort of super advanced robot,” Twilight murmured before a thought came to her. “...Wonder if it’s Japanese?”
The bird seemed to give her an offended look, if that was possible for such a creature. It then flapped its wings and took off, using its head to gesture for Twilight to follow.
“Oh… Know I’m going to get in huge trouble for this, but this is too curious to ignore…” she thought to herself as she ran out the library door and followed after the strange creature...
Somewhere outside the city, there lay an old canyon. The locals called it the Ghastly Gorge, for it was rumored that late some nights, mobsters from the city’s 20s and 30s dragged out people who displeased them and killed them here. None of this could be proven of course, or nobody cared enough to prove it with modern day technology more likely. After all, it was in the minds of the city council that they’d been dead for years, and even then it was just unsubstantiated rumors, so why bother wasting funds to look for bodies that may not even exist?
Years later, it served as a spot for teenagers to take their sweethearts, a lover’s lane if you will. Nice and secluded, far enough away from civilization that nobody would disturb them. You could just lay your blanket out on the sand, and look up at the twinkling stars above you and just cuddle up to your sweetheart -and maybe more- if you wanted. Only observers would have been the local wildlife hiding in the rows upon rows of pine trees and untamed wilderness that flanked either side of the gorge.
Of course, if you were the wilder sort, the gorge could help you with that as well. It had also served as a spot for off-roaders to race their tuned dirt bikes, trucks and dune buggies. It was quite the challenging course, with the gorge filled with tight corners, big rocks to swerve around (Or smash into) and other such things.
But it was the seclusion that was mainly of interest to a certain party, one that Indigo Zap had run into last night. Hidden deep within the canyon walls was a base, one that could probably be described as a nerd’s heaven with the improvements made to it. Once a simple silo used to house missiles during the Cold War era, now it hid away something else of a different technological persuasion.
“PROWL!” one angry voice echoed through the base, as a dark-skinned man wearing a blue suit walked angrily into the main room.
“Oh boy… He’s pissed.” someone chuckled, a small little red and white bot with a blue visor that hid his optics. “Wonder what our dear leader did to tick off the Pentagon?”
“Beats the scrap out of me, really,” a bot who was covered in military green paint with a shoulder-mounted missile cannon commented as he fiddled with what looked to be a small pistol. “But whatever it is, I’m sure he had his reasons Swerve. Prowl thinks in logic, nothing else. Robo-Spock, really. Has to be, someone needs to be the bot around here who uses their brains in a fight instead of charging headlong into one, guns a-blazing.”
“Hey, are you implying that…?” Swerve started, holding up his fists like a boxer would before a cough from behind them interrupted the two. Standing behind both Swerve and the other Autobot was a mostly red bot, with a dark blue helm with a chevron on it. Two wings jutted out from the bot’s feminine like form, with twin missile launchers on her back. Her shoulder pads had two wheels attached to them.
“Cool it you two,” Road Rage warned. “Hound, I know Swerve can be a pain in the aft (She chose to ignore the small “Hey!” from the bot in question) but can you too just stow it for a moment and let Fowler speak?”
“You mean yell?” Hound joked, as he watched Fowler survey the room in search of the bot named Prowl.
“...Er, yes… That.” Road Rage admitted embarrassingly, and if you looked closely, you could see her cheeks tinged with red.
“Where’s Prowl?” Fowler asked, his hands gripping tightly onto a metal railing as he looked around the room.
“Took the groundbridge out a few hours ago, to use the human manner of time measurement,” Hound replied. “Went to scan for where the Cons might be hiding.”
“I’d say he found one late last night,” Fowler commented. “Any of you check the news lately?”
“Sorry, I don’t watch human news. Loads of scrap anyways,” Hound said. “Always political debate, after political debate. And I thought Cybertron’s politics were bad…” he groaned out in disgust.
“Well, I for one find the news fascinating, about one of the only ways we can learn about this world as of this moment.” Road Rage put in. She was one of the Autobots most interested in human culture, aside from Hound. It came with being a former diplomat, as she once worked alongside a fellow Autobot named Crosscut going to alien worlds and forging relationships with them.
She’d then been recruited by Prowl as part of his team to track down rogue Decepticons, and when she and the rest of the crew had crash-landed on Earth, she’d jumped at the chance when Prowl asked her and Hound to scout out the planet and learn everything they could about it’s cultures. She’d even found herself a nice classic Corvette Stingray alt-mode in the bargain.
Hound had been the more sensible sort, and found an Army jeep as his alt mode.
“Then you have no excuse for not checking it,” Fowler commented, as he looked in her direction before flipping on a TV. Road Rage winced, on it was a woman talking about a police car seemingly gone mad as the driver -Whoever that may have been- rammed a very expensive looking sports car. Locals were questioned, and they said they wanted this guy’s badge on account of needless police brutality.
One particular local said: “I admit, this guy probably had reason to do such a thing, maybe this guy robbed a bank or stole some drugs from someplace,” the girl on TV, a tan-skinned one with freckles on her face, with red hair with light green streaks, said before her voice changed. “But then again, he could have killed the guy inside by the sheer force of that hit! I want him arrested, want him put on public trial!” she bellowed. Hound had to chuckle at the name displayed below. Sour Sweet indeed.
“Oh boy…” Road Rage sighed to herself, shaking her head. Right about then, a green swirling vortex opened up and Prowl drove in -In the exact same vehicle form displayed on the TV- before transforming just in time to see the news.
Parts began to shift and move and cogs turned as whirring and clanking sounds were heard. A head popped out, and doors ended up hanging out from the sides of Prowl’s body as the back end and rear windows of his alternate mode became his feet. His helm resembled Road Rage’s in basic design and concept, except white with red chevrons.
“Slag…” Prowl cursed to himself quietly as he watched what was on the TV.
“So, want to explain this?” Fowler asked.
“It was a Con, he was stalking this human girl and was trying to run her down. Breakdown, by the color scheme, unless I miss my guess,” Prowl replied. “One of the Stunticons anyways, given his driving style. I took the most logical, and humane aspect, and intervened.”
“That I can’t blame you for, but you did this in full view of traffic cams in a severely outdated alt mode. Nobody in America uses Nissans as Police cars anymore!” Fowler shouted.
“And that’s the genius of it,” Prowl put in. “As you said, nobody uses my current alt mode as a police car anymore, so they’re likely to think, eventually, that it’s just some idiot human masquerading as a cop for kicks. The car’s license plates on my alt mode, they belong to a long-dead human in Japan if anyone was going to go searching,” he continued. “So, no serious questions would be asked. At worse, someone would think that his car was stolen by somebody and that person is now using this car to commit crimes under the guise of a police officer.”
“Except,” Fowler argued. “When you’re now on the 3:00 news in that car form of yours, you’re too obvious. When you came to this planet, you said you were supposed to be robots in disguise, right?”
“Ah, that would be a problem…” Prowl was forced to admit. “Guess it is time for a change. Doubt you can just put in a requisition order for a Police car though…”
“Oh, you’d be surprised…” Fowler trailed off. “I actually planned ahead for such an occasion, and if you search in the back rooms you’ll find a new Ford Police Interceptor waiting for you to scan,”
“So, guess that solves that then,” Road Rage commented, and Fowler shook his head.
“Except if they get a close look at you and realize there’s no driver at the wheel,” he put in.
“That’s something I’ve been working on, actually,” Hound replied, and all heads turned to him. “Observe. Now, this is just a prototype I admit, but the concept should be simple enough,”
He raised his pistol, and fired a beam of light, and where it hit, a soldier was displayed.
“Holographic drivers… One for each of us, once you get this implemented properly and all the kinks worked out, of course.” Road Rage realized, snapping her fingers as she did so.
“...Okay, while you do that, I just realized I have to pick my daughter up from school. It’s about to let out soon, so if you excuse me…” Fowler said, as he headed for the exit. In his pocket rested a picture of a smiling teenage girl, cyan skinned with short purple hair. It looked as if part of the picture had been cut out, as there seemed to be a hand on Sunny’s shoulder. None of the bots could see this of course, or know the importance, but it was there all the same.
“I understand, Agent Fowler,” Prowl nodded. “Spending time with one’s family is such a rare opportunity in your line of work I suspect.”
Fowler nodded sadly, before he headed for the elevator. Nearby, Road Rage smirked.
“So… Hound. Your idea, I like it. But, one question though.”
“Yes?” Hound asked.
“Do we get to customize our drivers?” Road Rage asked with a small smirk gracing her faceplate.
With Fowler:
The ride home from Crystal Prep Academy was mostly a silent and awkward one, like it had been for the past few weeks. Fowler sat at the wheel of his sedan, with his daughter in the passenger’s seat.
“So… Uh, how 'bout some music?” Fowler asked, looking towards his daughter. “Listen, I know my tastes in the Nashville sound aren’t exactly what you kids like these days, so I went out and bought some CDs of more… modern music.”
Fowler pulled out a CD from a part of the door, which housed a few other CDs as well, and inserted it. He flushed in embarrassment, remembering the looks the music store owners had given him while he was buying said CDs.
The sound of a palm meeting a face was heard as Sunny sighed to herself as Shampoo's "Trouble" played from the speakers.
“...Dad, you do realize that music is from the 1990s? Bit before my generation, I think.” Sunny replied flatly, a deadpan look on her face. Fowler laughed nervously to himself as he ejected the CD.
“Right… You were born in 2000,” he reminded himself. “So you wouldn’t have grown up on this music,” he continued before muttering to himself: “Thank God for that…”
“Listen, I know what you’re trying to do,” Sunny replied. “And I do admit I’m happy you’re trying to do it, but-”
“Who said I was trying to do anything?” Fowler replied, an inquisitive look on his face. “Just trying to interact with my daughter, that’s all,”
“Yeah, and make up for the rare time you spent with me when you were married to mom and not arguing with her,” Sunny replied. “I have to ask, did you marry her just so you could have me?”
“We loved each other… once,” Fowler admitted sadly, with a sigh and a shake of his head, thinking of happier times now long since lost. “But that was before our jobs got in the way. She was a school principal, and I’m a Special Agent for the United States Government. You can see the problem, right?”
“Yeah… I suppose.” his daughter admitted. She was honestly surprised that her dad hadn’t come to kick Cinch out of Crystal Prep himself alongside the district Superintendent. It honestly hurt her a little inside when she saw that he hadn’t come, -After all, he’d probably heard about what Cinch had pulled, and he really hated when children were put in danger- and sent Chrysalis along instead.
In reality, Fowler had actually thought of that, but he knew he was too close to the case for it to have been a good idea to show up in his ex’s office... It was his own daughter that Cinch had manipulated, and then when that poor Sparkle kid went full she-demon, nearly lost to an alternate dimension filled with magical prancing ponies of all things. May have sounded like something out of a bad comic book, but that was the cold hard truth.
In all honesty, and Fowler couldn’t believe he was admitting it, he didn’t know what he might have done had he shown up in person and met with Cinch face to face. Whatever might have happened, it wouldn’t have been a pretty sight and he might have wound up arrested for something. He had to ask himself if that happened, then where would he be with his daughter and their already fractured relationship?
“Something else wrong?” Sunny asked, noting how distracted Fowler seemed to be every time he passed another car, just taking a quick glance at who was driving it. “You’re looking at every car on the road, or more accurately their drivers.”
Fowler groaned to himself. She did inherit his brains and perception after all, so of course, she would have noticed that. “...Sorry, just trouble at work. Can’t tell you much, as most of this stuff’s classified obviously, but there’s this guy going about stealing cars and trucks and causing all sorts of chaos with them. The real nasty sort, you understand,”
“Yeah, I sorta do actually,” Sunny admitted, and her father looked towards her in surprise. “Sorry, just remembering something my friends were talking about at lunch earlier. Late last night, Indigo nearly got run down by this fancy Italian sports car… Gave us all a real scare.”
Fowler’s eyes widened. “This sports car… Wouldn’t happen to be mostly white, with red and dark purple detailing would it?” he asked worriedly, and Sunny noticed his nervousness.
“Dad, something wrong? Starting to feel like a police interrogation,” she replied nervously.
“Sorry… Sorry,” Fowler sighed as he rounded a corner. “Just that guy I mentioned? Remember him?” he asked and his daughter nodded.
“Yeah, I do, why?” she asked.
“The guy we’ve been tracking… He’s been known to use that car from time to time on his little joy rides, so to speak.”
“Yeah, joy ride’s one word for it…” Sunny whispered. “More like crazy-ass mass murder by car, as Indigo nearly experienced a real-life version of Christine had this old police car not come out of nowhere and saved her.”
Fowler’s eyes widened. He needed to talk to Prowl next time he went to the Autobase, as it was being called by his superiors. He didn’t want his daughter, or any of her friends getting involved in this little hunt of that bot’s.
“Sugarcoat’s asking an old classmate of hers to track down the license plates of the car, if that helps. See who it might have been.” Sunny continued, and Fowler looked at her sharply.
“No, I want you and your friends to stay out of this, this is far too dangerous for you.”
“Uh, dad, when someone nearly runs over one of my best friends, hard to keep my nose out of things,” Sunny replied. “Besides, call’s already been placed as it is. Just awaiting an answer from Twilight.”
Fowler groaned again as he pulled into his driveway. Of course, it would be Twilight that Sugarcoat would call. It would have to be her, wouldn’t it?