~Megatron's POV~
"SOUNDWAVE!" I was overly irritable, but only because of two things, "Where is that medic?!"
Make that three.
I listened as my communications officer relayed a message sent by Knockout, another delay in his mission.
"Tell him that he has one more day before I go get him myself. I knew I should have sent Dreadwing." I growled once again, and stomped off to my berthroom, knowing I needed to recharge, though I did it reluctantly. Vehicons scattered as my pedesteps boomed through the hallways of the Nemesis, my processor roaming to the other two problems at hand: Starscream still hadn't shown up, and neither has Wildstryke. I worry for her. The last she was seen, was just before she had somehow escaped the Autobots. Those idiots. And she wasn't even close to being fully repaired! I should have fought for the right to take her with me, but I don't think she would have wanted to be in the same place Arachnid once roamed along side her. I swear I can still hear the witty laughter when they both told jokes with the other vehicons. For once, I miss something that... I shook my helm. Those days are past, never to be seen again, never to be heard. Always forgotten, or as close as one can get to forgetting...
Soon I found myself at the door of my berthroom, the metal sliding open as I pushed the needed buttons. I saw the usual grey walls, seemingly mundane now. I could practically hear Wildstryke's comment if she saw it. It would probably be something snide, though she has her sweet moments, though I always seem to see her when shes serious, and it's amusing. How I wish she would have accepted the position I had offered her, then she would have been at my side more often. She has her freedoms though, and for once, I don't want to take it. To strip away Wildstryle's freedom, is to strip away her very being. Though I have a feeling she would have gladly fought me in order to keep that freedom. I may challenge her to a dual upon her return, just to see who would have won.
I felt my energy fading, so I finally closed my optics, hoping that when I wake, Wildstryke will be back.
~(Y/N)'s POV~
I have started to become rather worried... Not because of the race starting in less then half an hour, but for Knockout. Megatron sent him on a mission for relics that have been showing up for awhile now (either I wasn't told, or I didn't care to pay attention about this fact... to be honest I probably wasn't paying attention), and that's what he had used as an excuse to find me for a week, then staying away for longer in order to be with me, and a race, of course, he has no protest.
"Why are we here at 11:30 instead of showing up on time?" My boyfriend whined, most likely not liking the slight heat of the day.
"Because I'm giving Tyson the satisfaction of a dramatic entrance, only for him to be dramatic after his defeat." I stated, my new holoform leaning on the hood of his alt mode. I needed a crew, so asked Knockout if he could conjure up a holoform for me so that he could use my alt mode, and I could use his. Why you ask? Well I'm not Knockout if I don't use my signature car!
"Is that him?" Dad asked, pointing to a large plume of dust in the distance.
"Most likely," was my nonchalant answer as I examined my nails, bored.
As I predicted, Tyson and his goons made donuts around us, just barely keeping from hitting each other, and us. Personally I think it could have much more dramatic, and dangerous, but he doesn't my ability of foresight.
"This, is your crew?" Tyson laughed as he stepped from his brand new, white Porsche, most likely stolen. "You're joking, right?"
"Does it look like I'm joking?" Standing up straight, I watched as the helmeted crew surrounded us, Lucky's matching car pulling up next to Tyson's, though the baby blue was a stark contrast to his blinding white.
"You have an outdated Impala, a rickity 4 by 4 and a slow but steady Viper Venom," Hate was laced into his words as he practically spit out the chosen vehicles for my crew, "I'm not saying you're joking, I'm saying that this is a joke."
The muffled chortles of his crew resounded through the power plant, being topped only by Lucky's shrill tune of a cackle, one quite similar to a witch.
"Oh my, you're little friend over there sure seems to be entranced," She laughed, referring to Roman, who had been staring at her.
"No, I'm just looking for your hidden warts!"
Great minds think alike.
"Enough of this!" Tyson announced, "The rules are simple, first a burn out, then all the way down," He pointed to the fence, barely seen, "Where we'll tag team, and a different pair will come back, repeating the process, the first team to lose a car, loses the race."
I thought for a moment, and counted the difference. Four versus ten, twelve if I count Tyson and Lucky.
"Game plan allowed?"
"Sure, you'll need one." Came the cocky answer, to which I smirked, waving my hand for the group of three to come near. I made sure no one could hear as the rest of Tyson's crew went to him like the loyal dogs they most likely are.
"Dad, would you do the honors of starting this race off?"
"Uh... are you sure? I have no experience with this kind of thing."
"Absolutely! Tyson will most likely start the race off first, knowing his ego, and your new motor can completely smoke his Porsche!"
"Alright, if you say so."
"Awesome! Roman I want you to wait at the other end, Knockout and I will stay here to wait for our turns."
"Wait, look what they're doing," Knockout pointed to the leaving group, "They have half going down, shouldn't we split like that?"
"No, I know what I'm doing and I know how to treat a car, and letting it idle for to long, makes it stiff, to little action."
"Not enough movement." Roman confirmed, "The engine will be hot, but their start off will be slow."
"Exactly."
I retold the order of events: Dad to Roman, Roman to me, me to Dad, Dad to Knockout then Knockout to me, etc. Our meeting was done after Tyson's, and as I predicted, he was the one to start for his team. The immature Scrap head couldn't help but laugh.
"Can't fight your own battles!?" He called, though he earned no reaction from me.
It was Lucky who would drop the flag, which was a single red hankerchief she pulled from her bra.
"Ooops!" She faked her innocence, "I almost forgot! Burn 'em up boys!"
The air soon smelled of burnt rubber and asphalt as both vehicles spun their back tires. When they stopped, I could tell Lucky was trying her best not to wrinkle her nose, while I delighted in the smell.
"On your mark!"
She raised the hankerchief.
"Get set!"
She raised it higher.
"GO!"
The flag dropped, and Dad was off, his truck popping a dangerous wheelie, leaving Tyson in the dust. I laughed as he tried to catch up.
"WOO! GO DAD!"
I quickly ran to Knockout's alt mode, the seat belt clicking on its own as I made myself comfortable. I had time, since I could still see Dad going, but I wanted to make sure I was ready.
~Knockout's POV~
I wanted to make sure she was safe, so buckled her into my driver's seat myself, giving her a loving hug in a sense. I had more time than her, so simply waited as I stood by her alt mode. I probably would have been better off in the safety of her driver's seat.
"Well hello hot thing~" Lucky sauntered to my side. "What might your name be?"
I looked down at her, seeing that she seemed to take pride in the weight of her bosom, her shirt oddly low.
"I don't think that to be any of your business." I stated, looking back to (Y/N) as she waited. I noticed Roman coming up now, though he was still a ways off.
"I could make it my business," She whispered in my ear, a very unpleasant feeling.
"Excuse me, but do you have anything else to wear? Something less revealing?"
"Why? Are you one for surprises?" She sat on Wildstryke's hood, and I was glad she wasn't racing quite yet, knowing that she knew it wasn't me, but she would be off in less than thirty seconds.
"No, but I am one for decency, and I'm afraid, you sitting on my car is not decent at all."
I yanked her arm, and she sqweeked in alarm as she tripped in her high heels. To my dismay, she didn't fall.
Ignoring her curses and whines, I was just in time, and got into Wildstryke's passenger seat, earning a tug on my seatbelt in thanks from her. I rubbed a thumb on her steering wheel, her engine emanating a soft purr.
"I think she was one scalpel short of a set anyway."
(I think I've started something with the medical analogies and Knockout... Save me XD I'll just leave you to this sorta cliffhanger. Until next time!)