//------------------------------// // Part 22: Old Friends // Story: Equestria Girls: Transformation // by The Bricklayer //------------------------------// Somewhere outside El Paso Texas… A barren road with nothing but dust, sand, and shrubbery on either side of the highway, just a few miles north of the border was filled with the sounds of two revving engines. One, a V8 right out of Detroit and the other this 15-2 liter diesel engine just over 500 horsepower weighing tens of thousands of kilograms. And that was without the fuel he was carrying onboard in his tanks. Road Rage VS Octane, that was the current situation. 30 minutes prior, the latter of which had raided an oil refinery and was now on the run from his Autobot pursuer hot on his heels. “Come on, come on!” Octane bellowed. “What’s stopping you from taking me out, where’s that fury I heard so much about?” he taunted Road Rage, who was somehow managing to trail behind the massive truck. “Road Rage, the demon of the roads! I never thought I’d take you for a coward!” His twin smoke stacks flipped back and riddled the road with laser fire, the Autobot swerving right and left to avoid the shots, tires squealing out in protest and smoke and gravel being kicked up as Road Rage drifted alongside the massive Decepticon and slammed into him. “That enough for you?” Road Rage taunted, and Octane unleashed a bellowing laugh in response. “Ah, there’s that fire I remember, and have heard so much about!” he smirked. “Little Red Corvette tearing up the streets, and here I thought this chase, this game of cybercat and mouse of ours was going to be rather boring! Oh look, oncoming traffic!” he shouted, gesturing to two Vehicon drones in Cien mode coming right at them, twin laser cannons popping up from their hoods. He floored it, and sped down the highway to let the two Vehicons pass him and head right for Road Rage, both intent on slagging her either via ramming her or shooting her full of holes. Neither option was particularly preferable to her at the moment. Two massive laser cannons flipping out from underneath her chassis, she blasted one Vehicon and sent it tumbling end over end before it exploded behind her before she got alongside the second and slammed a spike from her wheel into the Vehicon’s like the ones found on old Roman chariots. This Vehicon suffered the same fate as his fellow. Sadly, this little entanglement had provided Octane valuable time and now he was further ahead of Road Rage than he had been before. “For such a heavy guy, ‘Con sure knows how to floor it when he needs to…” Road Rage thought to herself, and revved her own engine to close the gap and make up for lost time. She knew at any moment Octane was liable to either switch to his cargo plane mode or just bridge out. He was toying with her, and she knew it all too well. That was his style, lead the Autobots in pursuit of him on a little chase, wear them out -possibly destroy them- before getting the Hell out of Dodge as the humans liked to say. It was all one big game to him. Changing lanes, Road Rage kicked up more dirt and dust as she drove up alongside Octane once more, engine revving loud and fast. “So, still got a little bit of spark left in ya!” Octane laughed. “Little bit’s all I need to take you down…” Road Rage growled, tailpipes emitting small bursts of flame The vastness of the open road gave both of them a number of ways to escape and chase after each other. There weren’t any other cons, or anyone else for that matter so it wasn’t like they’d run into anyone and cause unneeded casualties. With the blazing sun streaking down on both of their paintjobs, the both of them were thankful that they couldn’t sweat or tire out like humans do, because in this harsh climate, they wouldn’t have lasted a chance like that. Both of them traded blaster shots with each other while endlessly running along the road, not a single building or patch of grass or water passed them by. Nothing but endless desert. They had no idea where they were going or where they had come from, as soon enough, even the signs pointing them in the right directions were non-existent. “Lost in America, you’re Lost in America…” Octane hummed to himself. “Exactly where you are. Me, not so much. I could just bridge out any time I wanted, or take to the skies but this is so much more fun…” “Do you ever shut up!?!” Road Rage snarled. “Ooh, touchy…” Octane remarked. “I can see where the name comes from…” Groaning, Road Rage shot the tires, causing him to swerve slightly before regaining control. “Feisty, ain’t ya? But feistiness is NOTHING compared to the Decepticons.” Octane’s smokestacks tilted downwards once more as he fired his weapons at Road Rage, blowing out the road in front of her and leaving giant holes in it. Road Rage just used some of the rubble as a makeshift ramp and flew over the holes. “Oh, seems to me you’re a bit angrier than normal,” Octane remarked. “Just that bit more determined. Any reason for that?” he taunted. “I did hear over the wire you recently lost a friend…” “Sh-shut up!” Road Rage’s voice cracked, knowing exactly who Octane was talking about. “Sounds like I struck a nerve. Now for the rest of your body!” Letting another salvo of shots ring out, he landed some blows on Road Rage’s trunk, scorching the paint job in seconds. “If it makes you feel better, you’ll be reuniting with that friend soon enough…” “Oh no, ya don’t! Trust me, there’s much worse comin’ your way, mate.” a voice sounded across the desert. Rushing to Road Rage’s side from across the desert flats was another Autobot, having taken the form of a sandy colored Toyota Land Cruiser from the early eighties speaking with what sounded like a Nebulan accent, or Australian to Earthfolk. “Huh, looks like little old Smallfoot was right, there are other Cybertronians on this rock,” the newcomer remarked as the roof of his vehicle mode sprouted a cannon. “Just wish Decepticons weren’t part of that.” “How dare you side with an Autobot! For that, you’ll be joining her in the grave!” Octane let another series of missiles fly out and hammer down on the road like mortar shots. “Whoa! Careful. Nearly singed my hood there!” the Autobot remarked as he swerved right and left to avoid the blasts, with Road Rage eying his cannon warily. “Careful, Octane over there? He’s carrying Solus Prime knows how much fuel onboard, the last thing we want is for it to go off,” she warned. “Sounds like he’d make quite a light show,” the Autobot chuckled. “Normally, I’m not a fan of violence of any sort and would much rather go on a explore, but trust me, seeing Cons blowing up bring a tear to my eyes.” “Noted,” Road Rage replied. “Trust me, same here. Never did catch your name, now that I think of it.” “Name’s Outback. Autobot, if ya couldn’t tell by the logo on me. And I’ve heard you were in trouble, miss,” he said. “Heard that Hound was finally thrown onto the barbie and left to cook. Shame, really. He was a really good guy, had some good conversations with him back on Cybertron. And believe me, if you think I’m going to let his death go unavenged than you’ve got another think comin’!” Outback growled. Octane growled to himself, he hadn’t exactly been expecting two Autobots to deal with today, just Road Rage and that would be the end of it. By the Pit, he didn’t even know Outback was on this blasted dustball. He needed to deal with the situation now, before it spiraled even more out of control for him. He weighed over the options in his head, fight these two and expend more Energon and risk his fuel being blown up, or escape with it. It didn’t take him long to reach any sort of decision really, and parts began to shift and move as he turned into a massive C-130 Cargo Plane and took to the skies. “Smell ya later, Autobrats!” Octane cackled as he radioed for a Groundbridge, with one of the green swirling vortexes opening in front of him, the Decepticon soon vanishing through it. “Running away so soon, ya cobber? Get back here and fight us like a Con!” Octane howled as he watched Octane’s vortex disappear before them. Road Rage sighed, and transformed into bot mode, with Outback soon following suite. “Yeah, that’s about par for the course for us with him really. Third time this month alone he’s stolen a huge amount of fuel and bridged out before anybody could catch him.,” she grumbled before taking a look at the heavily battered highway. “...Oh, Fowler’s going to have a Hell of a job explaining away this one…” “Who’s Fowler?” Outback questioned. “Don’t remember a Bot by that name.” “I’m going to have to fill you in, and you are going to have to do the same, given I and Prowl for that matter would really love to know where you came from. Road Rage to base, requesting pick-up for two.” “I’m sorry, two?” Perceptor’s voice stuttered out in shock. “What about Octane, did you catch him?” “No, he got away, but I just met up with an old friend…” Road Rage smiled… Meanwhile, in up in the hills and sweeping mountain passes of Colorado we find the hills alive with the sound of a revving engine, a stark blue Harley Davidson motorbike flying through a tunnel, a holographic longhaired human with a beard sitting on it. Taking a sharp turn down a mountain pass as two deep purple Cadillac Ciens followed after him, tires squealing as they threw their back ends into the turn just barely brushing the guardrail sparks flying. Any miscalculations and over the side they would have went, to a very long drop down towards a raging torrent of river rapids below. “Awww man, these guys are gonna harsh my mellow. I was just getting my groove on too, I mean I know my thing, just drive about on patrol and make sure nobody unfriendly gets to the base like so and yet these guys show up with all their fancy cars and paint jobs and try and kill me so it's like what's the problem, man? Well, nobody's gonna rain on my parade and I’m going to make sure of it, as this cat’s got claws see?” the motorbike ranted to himself, before gunning his engine and popping a wheelie. “I mean, by the Allspark what’s wrong with taking a peaceful midday drive down the scenic route, just leave a guy to himself with only the road ahead?” Predictably, the Vehicons grew tired of his ranting and out popped cannons from their hoods. “Oh, fancy yourselves real tough guys eh?” the unknown Cybertronian remarked and if he could, he’d be rolling his eyes right about now. Decepticons, they were always about the big guns. Had to be compensating for something, like possibly their lack of combat prowess in general. “Well, how do you like this one?” His tailpipe flipped out, and blasted flames at the Vehicons leaving them with scorched hoods, with the bike laughing to himself. “Not so snazzy now are you? I mean, by Pyra Magna’s spark you guys are ridiculously shiny, could mess up a guy’s vision if the sun glinted off you in the right way! I mean, I could crash and burn! So not good for my image, brah.” The tailpipe flipping back and resuming its proper position, the Cybertronian smirked as he continued his trek down the mountain roads, the Vehicons still in hot pursuit. “Man, what is it with you guys? Can’t you just leave a simple bot in peace? Man, you guys really need to chill out. Take some Zen classes or something. I heard Drift, my man, he has audio recordings by the truckload that could really help you guys. I mean, haven’t you heard? War’s still on Cybertron, not here! Not even Hellbat or Guyhawk were as persistent as you two morons!” As much as Night Ranger loved joking around and screwing with these two Vehicons to throw them off their game, he knew the time for messing about was over. These two could not learn the location of the Van De Graaff, not by a longshot. “Oh, where’s Smallfoot or Outback when I need ‘em? I’m just a simple biker, a scout and they get the big tough Toyota off-road vehicle modes!” he thought to himself. “But, right now, it’s up to me! Lovely day, lovely day…” he added sarcastically. “But, as an Autobot, it’s my job to protect the people of this world. I can only pity them if they ever had to get caught up in this constant war of ours.” Taking another corner, hearing the Vehicons’ tires screaming now as he rounded it, and the screams only got louder as he rounded several hairpin corners. Finally, it happened, and the tires exploded with rubber flying with some of it even hitting him. “Ah, thought so. I know these roads, know how to take them with style and grace, while you just take the frailing about madly route from Tokyo drifters. No, strike that, that’d be an insult to Japanese drift kings. You’re nowhere near their level. I should know, I raced a few,” Night Ranger snarked as he screeched to a halt, his kickstand dropping to the pavement and engine idling. “So, you want to continue to play around, or should we just end this little game of ours here?” Take a guess what the Vehicons chose. With a shifting and whirring of parts, they changed to their bot modes. “...Yeah, I about figured as much.” Night Ranger muttered, and transformed to robot mode with his tailpipe becoming his rifle and before the two Vehicons could even fire off a shot they tumbled over the edge and down into the raging torrents below. Night Ranger smirked, and spun his rifle in his hands like an Old West gunslinger before blowing smoke off of its tip. “Yep, still got it.” he smirked. A loud crash was heard, and a certain Autobot winced at the sound. That had to hurt. But no time to dwell on that, he still had his patrol to finish, Nexus Prime only knew what else lurked up in these hills. Vehicons were like Scraplets in a sense, there was never more than one. Tapping into his comms, he radioed back to the ship. “Hey Hoist, how goes the repairs? Any systems aside from the groundbridge up and running yet? Cause I just ran into two Vehicons, I’d really love it if we had autocannons up and running soon brah.” “First off, don’t rush me, and secondly don’t call me by that name, you know how much I hate it,” a British accent filtered through the comms, along with the sound of repair equipment hard at work, patching, and welding. “Me and Hubcap, we’re working as fast as we can, but without the proper tools, it’s slow going. Look, I have to take this careful. I’m a medic, not a repair technician like Scoop was. Primus, I don’t know what I might set off if I’m not too careful here. Could accidentally start up the ship’s Auto-Destruct sequencing, old and confusing as this damn thing is. It’s not like the ships of today, this thing was practically ready for the scrap heap when we used it to escape Cybertron, hopefully, find a newer more peaceful world.” Night Ranger bit back a bitter laugh. “Yeah, look how that turned out. Decepticons, here!” “Look on the bright side, Smallfoot reported in that she saw Commanders Prowl, Hound and Road Rage along with that motormouth Swerve, so that means there’s Autobots here as well right?” Hoist replied. “Yeah, true. But that means that they brought the war here as well, which means the humans of this world, wondrous creatures -Seriously, you ever heard any of their music? Steppenwolf rocks!- that they are likely going to be caught up in it sooner or later. I really don’t fancy that idea, do you?” “Not in the slightest,” Hoist admitted. “Hopefully, Smallfoot or someone else can hook up with Sentinel or whoever the current Prime is and help send these ‘Cons running.” “One can hope. One can only hope…” Night Ranger trailed off. Meanwhile, back inside the Van De Graaff, the Autobots known as Hoist and Hubcap were hard at work getting crucial systems up and running. A few cycles before Sentinel Prime’s final stand at the Stellar Galleries against Lord Deathsaurus and the Breastforce Armada, the Van De Graaff’s crew had fled Cybertron in hopes of finding more peaceful pastures, ones that weren’t ravaged by the fires of war. It was a wonder how they’d escaped in the battered old exploration ship, possibly managing to avoid the sensors of the larger Decepticon aligned ships in the chaos but in any case, the Van De Graaff had managed to stumble across a wormhole and initiate a slipspace jump. Sadly, this jump had taken its toll on the ship’s already battered engines and a good portion of the ship’s jump drive had exploded, knocking several members into stasis lock including the ship’s captain Pyra Magna and offlining a few more. With only a skeleton crew led by Hoist to guide the ship into a gentle landing, they’d landed on Earth in the mountains of Colorado before the last of the crew slipped into stasis for the next few centuries or so only awakening recently. Hoist, he was a gentle sort of bot turning into a tow truck aptly enough considering his position. If Perceptor or Rachet were the Autobot’s chief surgeons and scientists than Hoist would be a family doctor. Everyone reported to him for their routine check-ups and the like, with Hoist always ready to greet them with a friendly demeanor and a jovial smile. Hubcap, now he like Hoist spoke with what sounded to humankind with a cultured British accent and was fairly friendly, always with a clever joke and was always this affable bot to be around transforming into this old 30s coupe, not unlike the one you’d find on the cover of ZZ Top’s album Eliminator. No small wonder he and Hoist struck up a friendship. His greatest talent, however, was his audio receptors, and back on Cybertron, he was head of the Autobot Communications Hub. “Primus damnit, there go the lights…” Hubcap muttered. “Going to have to fix that… again. I really should check the maintenance ducts, just in case we’ve got an infestation of scraplets on our hands.” “Please, don’t make me think about that,” Hoist said as he used a small tool to weld some wires back together. “I’m already nervous enough as it is, being tasked with repairing as many systems as I can on this ship without having to worry about Scraplet infestations.” “Just saying, on a ship this old you don’t know what lurks in the dark…” Hubcap replied. “Can never be too careful,” “Yes, yes, I know that. But if there were a Scraplet infestation, we’d probably already know by now. Primus, we’d all be dead actually. They’d have taken no time in devouring us all while we were offline or in stasis, you know that.” “Right… Right,” Hubcap reminded himself and shook his head. “Silly me. The mind tends to wander though, when you’ve got very little to do and you’re just couped up in one place for too long. Cabin fever, I believe the humans call it right?” “Just keep your mind on your work, and just that. Doctor’s orders,” Hoist recommended. “Should keep your mind from thinking up ideas that’ll send shudders down all our sparks. Tell you what, I’ll ask Night Ranger if he can switch duties with you when he returns, get you out on your wheels again, that’ll cure you of your cabin fever right quick I think,” “Thanks,” Hubcap replied. “Now, hand me that power inducer, I’m going to see if I can stir some life into the shields okay?” Hoist tossed him the item in question and sighed. Bad luck, and poor judgement, that’s what it came down to when they chose this particular ship. Once, the Van De Graaff had been a mighty fine ship in her own right, before the dawn of Megatron but that was millions and millions of years ago. Now, it was just scrap. Glorious scrap sure, but still scrap. For a brief moment, Hoist let his mind wander. He liked to believe, and he admitted this was a simple romantic fantasy, that every ship had it’s stories to tell. Stories of glorious adventures, daring escapes, fantastic rescues, and dashing crews. He wondered what this ship might have experienced in it’s lifetime, where did it go, what did it’s crews see? The Klud of Pequod, the Rock Lords of Quartex, or maybe even the dreaded Chaos of the planet Dread? He shook himself away from those thoughts, he had more important things to worry about right now. His optics drifted towards the Bridge of the ship, where their Captain and commander Pyra Magna of the Cybertronian aligned planet Caminus rested, still in stasis lock. She was in need of an energon transplant, and with their own supplies at the moment so low nobody could provide such a thing. Hopefully, if Outback or Smallfoot made contact with Prowl’s group or found a supply of raw Energon than that problem could be remedied but for now all he could do was keep her stable. “All I can do,” Hoist thought to himself. “Yeah, that about sums up my role on this ship so far…” Meanwhile, miles and miles away off the coast of India lay the island of Sri Lanka. Probably the last place you’d expect any Cybertronian to ever step foot on, but yet here Steeljaw and Filch were, in its jungles and caught in the middle of an afternoon rainstorm. “You do take me to the most wonderful of places, don’t you,” Filch drawled. “First Mexico City to meet a massive Predacon with anger management issues, and now here in search of a creature called the Devil Bird by the locals.” “Well, if Thunder Clash says one of his oldest friends is here, someone we can trust, then I have no reason to doubt him,” Steeljaw replied. “Besides, think of it as an adventure, like Indiana Jones or Lara Croft. Don’t think I haven’t caught you watching those human films in your spare time.” If Filch could have blushed, she would have. “So, remind me, what’s the so-called cryptid we’re searching for here?” she asked. “Ah yes, the Devil Bird of Sri Lanka. Supposedly, and I do wonder where these humans think up these legends, there was once this jealous husband who doubted the legitimacy of his child. So, in a fit of anger, he killed both wife and child and now the wife roams the skies of the island with her cries of anguish being death omens,” “Like I said, you take me to the most wonderful places,” Filch deadpanned. “Sounds like a load of absolute crap to me.” “It is,” Steeljaw agreed. “Most humans these days, at least ones not caught up in superstition believe that the real-life Devil Bird is this Eagle Owl, and because they live in the deep jungles and have widespread habitats all over the island they’re a very rare sight these days. However, all legends had to start somewhere right? And I don’t mean from some Earth bird…” “Thunder Clash believes the Devil Bird is this old friend of his right? Airazor, he calls her?” “Yeah, that’s her,” Steeljaw replied. “With a bit of luck, we may just find her. No, not luck. I’ve just broadcasted our spark signature and any Predacon on this island should come to us if only out of curiosity.” “Or to defend their turf,” Filch reminded. “Predacons, not the friendly sort. You just got lucky with me.” “Yes, quite.” Steeljaw said as he turned back to look at Filch smiled at her, and for whatever reason, the Corvicon felt her face grow hot. “Now, come. Time’s not on our side, and I don’t want to be caught out here after dark. Not just Predacons we have to worry about after all…” If Steeljaw had been looking closely, he might have seen a cat-like figure dart between the bushes and off into the darkness...