Chapter Text
Normally, an air transport made the delivery, but these particular units simply couldn't handle the stresses of flying and made it impossible. Hot Rod jumped at the chance when the company offered him the job of a ground delivery. While he would have preferred being able to simply carry the shipment via a subspace capable trailer and put his own wheels to use, the sheer size and delicate nature of the units didn't allow for it. Still, road trip!
The transport they gave him, while not a massive long haul vehicle, sat just outside the size range of vehicles he'd driven in the past. His supervisor assured him that he had the skill to handle it, perhaps take it a bit slower than he normally would. Of course, as a speedster, the word slow kind of cramped his style, but if he considered this time it would keep him out of the warehouse for at least a couple deca-cycles—one there, one back.... Just himself and the wilds of Cybertron. Yes, the wilds, because the only way he was going to make the delivery date by ground forced him straight through barely tamed passes of the Manganese Mountains.
Fortunately, his boss gave him the go-ahead on bringing along his fishing and camping gear. While lodging appeared aplenty outside the actual mountains, in the passes, Rodimus would be entirely on his lonesome at roadside rest stops. He looked forward to those nights more than he let on.
"Are you sure you're okay doing this run alone?" Springer asked, the big and green triplechanger making certain the crates packed in the back of the transport sat stable and secure.
"Springer, I am perfect doing this run alone," Rodimus assured him, getting his personal supplies settled into a supply bin. "I can't tell you how long I've been wanting to get away like this, actually. So getting out for a little camping and making shanix at the same time? Couldn't get any better."
The other mech sighed and rose to his pedes, turning to face Hot Rod. He looked down at Hot Rod from a good distance, much larger than Hot Rod's small speedster frame. "Make sure you check in when you're supposed to, all right?"
"No worries," Rodimus said, closing the bin tight. He flicked his spoiler wings and gave him a cocky grin. "I've got this."
One heavy orbital ridge lifted high at the declaration. "I'm sure you do," Springer said, "but watch it when you start through the Manganese, all right? Once you get deep enough in the passes, those mountains eat every bit of signal even the best comms system on Cybertron is capable of."
"I'm a country bot," Hot Rod claimed, waving off Springer's concerned expression. "This is no big deal, mech."
"You're from Nyon," Springer replied, deadpan.
Hot Rod, caught out, huffed a laugh and rubbed at the back of his helm. "At spark, Springer. I'm a country bot at spark." He glanced around the storage area of the transport and nodded thoughtfully. "Looks like I'm ready to go, then."
"Not yet," Springer said, walking his way. He patted a big hand on Hot Rod's back and ushered him off the transport. With little choice considering the size difference, Hot Rod let himself be led out into the loading bay. It was big and half full of crates that needed delivery yet, but they weren't Hot Rod's problem. "We're taking a business lunch before you're outta here officially since I won't see your annoying aft for a while once you're gone. My treat."
Never one to turn down offers of free fuel, Hot Rod smiled wide and clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms in anticipation. "Do I get to pick the restaurant?"
"You get to pick the flavor," Springer answered, laughing when Hot Rod groaned, spoiler wings sinking in dismay. "Just kidding, Hot Rod. It's gotta be nearby, though. Nothing fancy downtown, all right?"
"Awesome!" Hot Rod cried out, punching at the air.
Pulling out of Protihex, Hot Rod knew the first day wouldn't get him very far. Lunch with Springer managed to take half the afternoon, but he got out of it with a sizable cyber-doggie bag. It would more than cover dinner, leaving him with fewer shanix put on the company's credstick while he made the journey.
The direction he took to the southeast lay mostly deserted, mostly because no one in their right mind traveled from Protihex to Helex by way of ground transport. As Springer mentioned, going through the Manganese Mountains left a bot entirely at the mercy of the wilds because no communications signal yet known managed to escape the tall and sharp slopes. A good handful of days stood between him and the mountains, though, at the speed Hot Rod's load forced him to travel at.
To pass the time, he cranked up the music while the wide open land passed by. In the distance, the mountains loomed slowly, but ever closer. He snacked as he drove, deciding as he passed the lodging he'd planned to stop at that enough light lingered for him to make the next small bit of civilization over. As a big night tin-owl, Hot Rod's get up and go was more than enough to keep him going at least that far.
Punching up the warehouse on the comms, he slurped down a swig of not as chilled as it used to be energon and waited for the night foreman to pick up.
::Hot Rod,:: she said by way of greeting. ::I was told to expect a call. You tucking away for the night, then?::
"Hey, Spacecase," he said to the small shuttle. He popped a calcium-coated energel into his mouth and talked around it as he chewed. "I'm not, but I thought I should make the check in, anyway."
::Good idea,:: she responded. ::Take it you're hitting up the next town over, then? And I really wish you wouldn't talk with food in your mouth.::
He started to laugh, but found himself choking as the transport hit a bump in the road. Coughing and slapping at his chest while Spacecase sniggered at him from the other end of the call, Hot Rod cleared his intake a few times until he was no longer clogged. Resetting his vocalizer, he grumped at her. "Yeah, yeah, laugh at the guy that just swallowed an energel whole." He grinned, though, and shook his helm. "But, anyway, that is precisely what I'm doing. Want me to call you when I get there?"
::Please,:: Spacecase said, a burble of good humor still coloring her voice. ::Boss would appreciate knowing the cargo's okay after a schedule change.::
"All right," Hot Rod said after another sip from his covered cup. "I'll talk at you later, then."
::Be safe, Hot Rod,:: she replied, closing the line before Hot Rod could answer. It wasn't unusual—the warehouse got busy even during the night shift.
Check in out of the way, Hot Rod sighed, cranked his stiff neck to hear the cables pop as they shifted back where they should be, and continued on down the road. All around him, the last bit of light from the sunset dipped under the horizon behind him. The mountains still sat a good day's drive away, but claimed the view ahead of him as if nothing else existed beyond them.
The time passed in a blur of music and rumbling transport engine with nary a single other vehicle showing themselves. Hot Rod's brain module fell right into a state of highway hypnosis, until a shadow dashed across the road not far in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, spark flickering at the suddenness of it, and looked for the shadow. No way had he hit the creature—even at its size, the transport would have taken a good knock and alerted him.
Putting the transport in neutral, Hot Rod pushed open the door and clicked his helm light on as he jumped down onto the roadway. He looked this way and that, but didn't see anything that might be an injured mechanimal. Then, a pair of golden optics glinted at him from the far side of the highway. Under his helm light, he saw the crouched form of a slinking cougaraider giving him a wary eye.
"Oh, whew!" Hot Rod exclaimed, feeling better. "You look okay, pussycat. Sorry about almost running you over!" The mechanimal's tail lashed and its audial forms pitched back in a defensive slant, then it disappeared into the brush and bramble of untamed Cybertron.
Clicking his helm light back off, Hot Rod climbed back into the transport and settled himself in for the rest of the ride to the next town. He spent that section of the trip much more alert.
Sitting toward the center of the dining hall the small inn provided, Hot Rod dug into a bowl of ruby crystal stew. Brightly lit, it offered a much better view of the room and the datapad that held his comics. The inn didn't seem to have a large clientele that night, though. Unlike a lot of bots, he'd never been much of one to avoid the attention of strangers, so when a much older gentlemech shuffled over, he didn't mind.
"Good evening, youngster," the mech greeted, a cygar hanging from one corner of his mouth. "Mind if I take a seat? Not too many around tonight and I could use some company."
Hot Rod gave him a quick glance, taking in the muted gray-green plating of a style long gone out of fashion and the aging face. He looked pretty harmless, really. "Uh, yeah, sure," Hot Rod said around a spoonful of stew. He nodded toward the seat across from him, where the old mech stood. "Go ahead."
"Name's Kup," the old mech said, introducing himself as he lowered himself into the chair. He offered the round little serverbot a smile and nod as she set down a mug of what appeared to be cheap high grade and another bowl of the stew. "Thanks, Rollfast."
"No problem, Kup," she replied. "Always a pleasure." Then she left them to each other.
Taking the time to swallow first, Hot Rod took his turn to introduce himself. "Hot Rod. You must come here a lot."
"The only place in town, in case you hadn't noticed," Kup said with a smirk, holding his cygar between the fingers of one hand while sipping from his mug with the other. "What brings a young springbuck like you out this way? I'd have placed you for a city kinda mech."
"Oh, I'm just running a delivery transport through to Helex," Hot Rod told him without going into detail. Springer would have his aft if he spilled more than that.
The old mech paused with a spoon of stew halfway to his mouth. "Through to Helex, huh?"
"Yeah, from Protihex."
Kup took his bite and crunched through the crystals before sitting back and giving Hot Rod a long, considering look. "That's an awful long run. You all alone?"
"Oh, yeah," Hot Rod said, digging into his own stew again with gusto. Even though he'd been snacking on his leftovers from lunch over the whole trip, something warm and fresh in his tank hit just right. "Boss tried to get me to bring someone else, but I kinda like doing this sort of stuff on my own."
The old mech grunted a little before plucking up his spoon again. "Best take extra care through the Manganese, then."
Hot Rod knew when a bunch of superstitious scrap was about to be thrown at him, but he just smiled and tilted his helm a bit. Licking the back of his spoon, spoiler wings perked behind him, he asked, "Oh? Why's that?"
From the way Kup narrowed his optics, the old mech understood Hot Rod was just humoring him. He knocked a bit of ash off the end of his cygar into the small dish at the center of the table for such, pausing to stuff another spoon of stew in his mouth before speaking. "Young city mech like you is not gonna take this as serious as you should. I'm gonna tell you, anyway, so when they find your body, I'll know I did what I could before letting you wander off through the mountains alone."
Hot Rod sipped from the glass of coolant sitting to the right of his bowl, frozen energon cubelets clicking against the side as he set it back down. "Okay," he said. "Hit me with the story, old mech. I won't laugh, whether I believe it or not. Deal?"
With a sigh, Kup rolled his optics. "Bit of a smartaft, aren't you?"
His spoiler wings bounced amusement while Hot Rod grinned. "Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that, yeah."
Kup waved a hand at him, snorting. "Anyway, you watch yourself going through those mountains, like I said before. There's things wandering those slopes you don't wanna run into when you're by yourself, kid."
"Like what?"
"Like monsters that'll knock you down and rip your throat out before you even know they're there," Kup said. "Stories say they change form with the moons in a way that ain't standard transforming, come out to hunt when both are full."
Hot Rod frowned and arched an orbital ridge. This story was disappointing. "You mean werebots? Those don't exist."
Kup gave him a solemn nod, taking a puff of his cygar and blowing the smoke off to the side. "I guess some call 'em that," he said. He sat back in his chair, his frame creaking a bit. "And they very much do exist. Nearly lost an arm to one a vorn ago. Got away with only losing a little kibble because I tossed some dirt in the thing's optics. Werebots aren't the only things hiding out there, though, just the tip of the boulder in the Sea of Rust."
"Okay," Hot Rod said, spoon dipping into his nearly empty bowl. He slurped and crunched through the last bite. "So, how do I keep myself safe, then?"
"Stay on the road," Kup told him with no hesitation. "Something about the way the paving was laid means they can't cross it, on foot or by wing. Those beasties up there don't like the feel of it. Pretty sure it messes up the way they read things."
Considering that, Hot Rod licked his lips and tossed back a swig of coolant. "That kind of traps them in certain areas, huh?"
"If only they weren't around on both sides of the road," Kup said. "Used to be some places people would go out to camp or fish or hunt, but it wasn't long before they all ended up either disappearing or coming back with ghost stories." He flicked a little ash again. "Sometimes, it was both. No one local goes out there, anymore. Especially not alone."
Hot Rod tossed a glance toward Fastroll, wondering briefly if he should ask her opinion on the tale. Leaning forward on the table, he smirked and asked, "And if I asked any of the other locals, they'd say the same thing?"
"You bet your tiny aft they would," Kup assured him. He swished the engex in his mug a bit before tossing back a good chug. Smacking his lips as he observed Hot Rod afterward, he added, "I know you won't listen because you're a city mech and got a job to do, but at least make sure your transport is fuelled up enough to get you all the way. There ain't nothin' between here and Helex when you cut through the mountains."
That, at least, Hot Rod can see the point of listening to. He considered where the tank gauge registered on the transport and nodded. "Good advice," he said. "Is there really nothing along the road through the mountains, though? I swear the maps I looked at have a couple places listed. Rest stops, at least."
"Then you looked at old maps," Kup said, switching back to his stew. A bit of ash landed on the table before he could flick it into the ashtray.
"Kup, you better clean that up!" Fastroll called out across the room, busy wiping down a table that had just recently emptied of the only other guests out that late. "You know what I think about ash all over my tables!"
"Yeah, yeah," Kup said, resting his spoon in his bowl then carefully gathering the fallen ash into his hand and dumping it into the ashtray. He dusted his hands, then looked at Hot Rod again. "Anyway, kid, remember. Stay on the road, even when you stop for a rest. They'll be able to get into your transport if you don't, doors locked or not, then you won't have any protection."
Hot Rod sipped at his coolant. He didn't feel the least bit anxious regarding his trip, but definitely interested in the local lore now that he was getting a taste of it. "Is there anything normal in the mountains or just these monsters?"
"Oh, there's normal critters up there," Kup said around a spoonful. "You hit one of the bridges over the creeks, you'll be able to catch some cyberfish without tempting anything more otherworldly."
Tilting his helm, Hot Rod made note of that. He was not going through without dangling his line at least once. Then his processor threw a logic question at him. He didn't get those often, so he had to ask. "Speaking of bridges," he started, tapping at the table in front of him with a fingertip, "are these creatures able to go under the road? Like, does the road affect them from above?"
Kup paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, and considered him. Then, he shoved the bite in and crunched through some more of the ruby crystals. "Not a clue, kid," he said as he licked his chops before taking another bite. "No one's been back from that deep in the mountains to say anything."
At that point, Fastroll stopped by the table, cleaning cloth bunched up in a hand that rested on her thick hip. "Are you scaring the mechling with your damn spook stories, Kup?"
The old mech had the grace to flush a little at the question, but grinned and leaned back to regard her. He waved the hand holding his cygar toward Hot Rod. "Does he look scared to you?"
Hot Rod bit back a grin—that was all the answer he really needed regarding the veracity of the old mech's tales. He chucked back the last of his coolant, setting his glass down with a light clatter. "It's been a good talk, Kup," he said, reaching across the table to offer his hand. "I've gotta hit the berth, though, so I can head out early. I'm on a schedule, after all."
The old mech snorted, but shook his hand. "I'm not kidding about there being strange things in the mountains, Hot Rod," he said, voice quiet and tone sincere. "Maybe I exaggerated a bit about the locals, but not the mountains. You watch yourself on the journey and stay on the road." Then, he sat back and puffed on his cygar, taking another swig of engex. "Have a good night, kid."
"Yeah, thanks," Hot Rod said.
The Manganese Mountains looked imposing from a distance. Up close? They were downright intimidating. Dark and foreboding, even in the daylight, with evening coming on, they ignited a primordial unease in the depths of a mech's coding. Hot Rod gripped the steering controls a little more firmly and considered spending one last night outside the mountains, pushing his way in with the first rays of dawn. He'd come plenty far enough for a full day's travel, after all. The boss even marked a spot a few megamiles ahead as a good place to pull over and stop for the night.
Kup's attempts to rattle him had nothing to do with his hesitance to bunk overnight in the transport at a rest stop. It lay more in the idea that his cargo cost a lot more shanix than Hot Rod wanted to have sitting on the side of an open highway, however deserted it might be, overnight with just himself to guard it. It briefly crossed his mind that maybe he should have brought a second mech along.
"Screw it," he muttered, clicking the transport's headlights on and pushing on ahead. He hadn't seen a vehicle coming or going from either direction since he'd set out that morning. No one was going to come along at that time of night way out in the wildlands with nefarious intentions and he was getting tired.
He checked the distance on the map against his geo-satellite position and nodded. Only a few minutes more and he could pull into the rest area, then hunker down for the night. The music he'd been listening to had already blinked out, the minerals or whatever in the mountains ripping the passive signal right from the air. Luckily, Hot Rod knew plenty of ways to keep himself occupied on the road. Just as long as he didn't zone out again in a more dangerous spot—like the twisting curves along the mountainsides, he'd be all right.
Until he actually passed into the mountains themselves, though, Hot Rod's path kept him on a very straight and rather narrow road. The chances of a serious accident for the moment were laughable.
He snorted amusement and grinned at himself, peeking toward the GPS unit. A blank screen, the gray caused only by a backlit black, sat where his mapping display should have been. "What? Seriously?" he demanded of the device. "There is no way the mountains are messing things up this far out. It's bad enough they already snatched my tunes."
Reaching over, he tapped the unit, turned it off and powered it back up, then tapped it again. All to no avail, much to his disgust.
"Seriously not cool!" he called out to the universe. Slumping back in the driver's seat, Hot Rod scowled at the empty display. At least, even without the guidance, the trip through the mountains ran plain and simple along one road. Going over the route before leaving let him know that much. He just didn't like not having it to keep him company, silly as it sounded.
With the turn off for the rest area coming up in the distant reach of the transport's headlights, Hot Rod grumbled. "I'll stop and let Spacecase know where I'm at, then keep going. There's no way I'm getting any recharge now, scrapped off as I am."
He heaved a heavy gust through his vents as he swung off the highway under the grim shadow of the tall Manganese peaks. Pulling the transport to a halt in the parking spot nearest the evacuation building, the brakes squealed as he pressured them to stop a bit faster than they appreciated. Hot Rod grimaced—he'd have to watch that. The guys that worked in the company repair shop would have his skidplate if he brought the transport back in less than top shape.
Hopping out of the transport, he stretched out tight tension cables with a groan. He still needed to check in, he remembered, grunting a little at the thought. It didn't occur to him until the moment he attempted to fire up his comm that perhaps it, too, might suffer from the effects of the mountains this far out from the first rise of the slopes. So, the surprise of it giving him nothing more than static upon trying to open a channel resulted in a good round of cursing. He kicked at the paving of the rest area, barely stopping himself from throwing an errant fist at the side of the transport. "Slagging scrapball piece of filter fragged aft biting—!"
KAWHOOMPH!
Hot Rod froze in his tracks, falling silent faster than he'd ever managed in his life before that moment. That sounded like something large knocking around one of the big public trash bins rest stops always had. Having never been to this rest area, Hot Rod spent a few too-long nano-kliks trying to find the bins. When he did, the depth of the evening's lengthening shadows made it impossible to tell from where he stood if any sort of mechanimal was over there.
Closing the comm line, useless in the face of the mountains, Hot Rod tiptoed around the front of the transport and cautiously took in the surrounding area. No odd shadows lingered anywhere he could see them. Even with the help of the tall lamps that blinked on overhead, nothing moved that shouldn't.
Making sure the door of the transport locked securely, Hot Rod bolted across the walkway and up the short path to the evacuation building. His waste tanks needed emptying, no matter how spooky the place was.
He ducked into the building and yanked the lock on that door into position. The likelihood of someone else showing up with a need to use the evacuation chutes sat at almost nonexistent, if he had to judge by the traffic he'd seen on the highway. He wasn't about to chance whatever messed with the trash bin coming in after him in the middle of taking care of business, though.
Just as he finished up under the stark white lighting, closing his waste hatches and sanitizing, a knock came at the door. Hot Rod nearly leaped out of his plating as he swung around to stare at the door with wide optics.
"Hello? Is someone in there?" a small voice called out in askance. A youngling from the sound of it.
Hot Rod narrowed his optics and glared at the door now, not stepping any closer to it. He hadn't heard any other vehicles pull up near the building—it was certainly quiet enough he would have heard them. A youngling out this far on their own as night fell was so far outside the realm of possible that Hot Rod didn't know quite how to classify it.
Clamping down his plating to keep it from rattling, Hot Rod glanced around the faded interior of the evacuation building. Scratches in the paint and patches of rust in the corners aside, it had only the one entrance. A few small ventilation windows opened up to the outside, but nothing was getting through them without prying heavy woven grates out of the way.
The door wobbled a little, as if someone with a good deal of strength pushed against it, then the quiet knock came again. "Hello?"
Hot Rod jumped back, spoiler wings catching on the sides of a stall door, knocking him off his feet and putting up a loud racket. "Damn it," he muttered, pounding a fist on the grimy floor. "No way you didn't hear that."
"Hello? I heard you! Unlock the door please?" the youngling called out to him. "I need to use a chute! Carrier is waiting in the transport for me so I can't take long."
"Yeah, right, kid," Hot Rod said, keeping his voice too low to be heard. His spoiler wings dipped low along his back, more mobile for their shape than the wings of the actual flyers he knew. "There is no fragging transport out there but my own."
The knock grew a little louder, definitely a hand thumping against the door at a height reachable by a small bot. "Please let me in?"
Hot Rod shuddered and crawled back into the stall at a speed worthy of his frame type. He closed the stall door as quietly as possible and curled up on the seat of the waste chute. It wasn't fear, it was self-preservation because unless an adult showed up to vouch for the youngling, that wasn't a youngling. His processor flashed to Kup, but he shrugged the stories off. This wasn't in the mountains so it was something else. Right?
The knock came again.
Then again.
And again.
"Hello! I know you're in there, I heard you!"
More knocking.
"What's taking you so long, dearspark?"
Hot Rod blinked and relaxed just the tiniest bit turning his helm toward where the building door was situated. He flicked his spoiler wings without lifting them entirely from their downward slant. That was an adult mech's voice. Could it be that he just hadn't heard a second transport pull in?
"Carrier, the door is locked," the youngling said, perturbed. "I can't get in, but I know I heard someone inside."
"Well, let's try one more time," the youngling's carrier—a rather sweet-voiced mech—said. "If no one still answers, we'll just have to use the bushes, I guess."
"Okay, Carrier," the youngling replied.
Hot Rod frowned lightly, tilting his helm a bit, not sure how to feel about this. He crouched in a little closer around himself. Something about the whole thing still did not feel right.
Another knock came at the door, higher as if from a taller bot. Which, of course, made sense. "Hello? Is there anyone inside? My little mechling would really appreciate if you could unlock the door and let us in so he could use an evacuation chute."
Silence fell for a short spell. Hot Rod didn't move, the instinctive flutter in his fuel tank warning him against it. Just as he clamped his plating down even tighter, every last flicker of his field pulled as close as possible, a heavy banging pounded on the door. The sort that rattled the hinges and made Hot Rod fear the fixtures or even the door itself might give way.
"Let us in!" the carrier hollered, his voice taking on a deeper tone. It scraped and tore across Hot Rod's audials. "Open the door now!"
The door shaking pounding continued. The youngling joined in, the knocking from lower on the door starting up again. "You listen!" the youngling shrieked along with the older mech. "Open the door! I'm hungry!"
If he ever saw Kup again, Hot Rod fully planned on telling him that staying on the road might be a good idea before a bot even reached the mountains. As it was, he curled up tight in the stall with no intention of moving any time soon.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" BANG! BANG! BANG!
Hot Rod had no clue when he fell into recharge, he didn't feel at all rested when he finally woke.
In his little camp berth in the transport.
He sat up with a jerk and looked around the interior of the transport, but found nothing out of place. Somehow, he'd even wound up with the plug of the portable recharge station that Springer forced him to take in his charge port. He unplugged and slowly eased himself to his pedes.
The bright light of the morning sun poured in through the unblocked windows of the transport, proving the night over, at least. Maybe he'd dreamed the whole thing? Reaching for the control panel, Hot Rod eased the door of the transport open. The feel of the land seemed entirely different with the hazy light of morning chasing away the darkness.
He grabbed the cred stick from where he'd tossed it on the front console and cautiously carried over to the lonely vending machine that sat outside the evacuation building. Plugging the end into the payslot, he quickly chose a pack of rust sticks and a calcite crusted energel bar. They were released by the machine and Hot Rod ducked down to pluck them out of the dispenser catch.
"Hey, mech, can you spare a bite?"
Hot Rod jerked upright and stared at the mech that had spoken to him. Covered in dirt and grime, the guy obviously hadn't seen a washrack in a while. He looked a little malnourished, too, spots of oxidation showing here and there on his armor. That armor might have been heavier at some point, too, but now carried a dull look, like his frame was cannibalizing it to keep other more important parts of his frame in working condition.
His build still held more heft and size than Hot Rod, probably taller than him by at least a helm. Hot Rod couldn't tell for certain as the mech sat tucked back in a tiny alcove along the side of the evacuation building. His paint was mostly dark, black and grays and purples, but he did wear some dingy white and golden accents. Once Hot Rod got past the filth, the mech had a face to stop sparks. His optics were dim with hunger, but red in a way that spoke of the lower levels. How a lower level mech found himself in a place like this, Hot Rod couldn't even begin to guess.
"Uh, sure," he said, punching in a selection of a couple more treats and a can of decent mid-grade. Plucking the cred stick from the port, he shoved it into the hollow in his right forearm, then dug out the new snacks. He carried them over to the mech and held them all out. "Here."
The mech stared at the snacks, reaching out to grab them slowly then snatching them close to his chest as soon as Hot Rod let go of them. "Thanks," he said, curling up to protect his bounty as if it might be stolen away and tore into the pack of magnesium dusted rust chips first. He ate a little more delicately than Hot Rod expected, but not by much. Halfway through the bag and licking the dust from his fingers, he watched Hot Rod with an intent gaze. "You were stupid last night."
Hot Rod blinked, then scowled. "Do you always call people that give you fuel stupid? Might explain a little about you, I guess."
Those red optics narrowed to slits and fangs flashed in his mouth as he sneered, tall white audial fins canting back in anger. "Don't talk about things you don't know about, scrapface."
Holding both hands up as a sign of his backing off, Hot Rod did take a literal step away from the mech. "Whoa, okay, then." He sighed and glanced toward the transport. "Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night, but I'm just going to consider it all a dream because I woke up on my cot. Time to be on my merry way. Enjoy the snacks."
He turned to leave, but grunted and turned back to the vending machine. It would be his last chance to grab real line-clogging junk fuel before he made it out the other side of the mountains, if Kup was right. Hot Rod knew he wouldn't survive that long without at least some rust sticks.
A jab of the cred stick later, he had a subspace pocket loaded with more junk than he knew what to do with and was sitting behind the controls of the transport again. He glared out the window at the mech that still huddled in the hidden nook near the vending machine, not liking the way he seemed to meet Hot Rod's optics with a curious and judgemental look.
"Pfft, whatever," he muttered to himself and backed the transport out of the slot before easing his way back out onto the lonely highway.