Optimus was pleasantly surprised. The boy riding in his cab wasn't as ridiculously crude and annoying when he was separated from the others. The Prime had made sure his patience wasn't too withered in the beginning, but their curious conversations didn't suggest he would have needed to be so cautious. Miles was still odd, there was no mistaking that, but he was a pleasant conversationalist, nonetheless.

         "So, you used to have a battle axe made of energy?" He asked to clarify their newest topic. 

         "Indeed." Optimus would have nodded, amused as Miles balled his right hand into a fist to imagine such a sight. "Unfortunately, a lack of proper energy stores forced me to abandon it."

         "Bummer, man," the boy lamented, "those military guys would have freaked for stuff like that."

         "I would not have given them access to such technology." They passed a gas station on the long stretch of highway. "They would want to minimize it, but the energy needed to create a tangible and sharp blade requires a reactor, something your kind will likely not be able to manufacture in a hand-held form."

     Miles ran the simple question of 'how do you know?' passed the sentient vehicle, answered with science that he didn't understand. What his mind could grasp boiled it down to that a big explosion in a tiny space to create sharp blades needed more room to mature than some hand-held device. 

Like trying to collide atoms in a Pringles can. It's nearly impossible without major repercussions.

     Their topic had faded away after the boy had fallen asleep for a nap. It gave Optimus an opportunity to think quietly to himself, though the slight stench of Marijuana tickled his receptors. It wasn't a debilitating smell, but it was enough to be a nuisance.

         "Miles," the boy hummed in response, having taken to staring out the window after waking up about an hour later, "why is it you insist on consuming mind-altering substances?"

     He jumped at the accusation, defending himself with a simple and pathetic 'I need it, I guess.' 

         "What causes one to need a substance that inhibits their basic motor functions?"

         "It's not just motor functions, or whatever that is." Miles appeared rather sheepish about the subject, apparently not having been called out before. "It- well, weed helps you tolerate annoying people."

         "Are we annoying to you, Mr. Lancaster?"

     The question caught him off guard. Miles muttered a frowning 'no' and something along the lines of 'of course not'. He was silent for several long minutes as he thought of what else he could say to explain his situation and muddled feelings without sounding too much like some over emotional girl. 

     Was his life horrible? No, he had loving parents, though strict at times but supportive. They certainly weren't as eccentric as Sam's parents. He wasn't exactly popular in his school, unlike Sam now that he had the hottest girl on campus. His life was rather mundane, though he made his own fun by climbing any good tree he could find. That was always fun (despite Sam's disdain toward the simple sport). Miles wasn't exactly bullied except by the occasional Jockey, and while he had no girlfriend, he preferred it that way. So why did he smoke?

         "I guess," he started after Optimus already supposed he wasn't going to continue, "because it lets me feel a little less worthless. It fogs up the brain, calms you down. I really only smoke when I'm going to see Sam."

         "So, he and Mikaela are the cause?"

         "Not Mikaela," the boy shook his head, "when you get to know her, she's pretty cool. She's got a fun attitude. Good legs too. Doesn't mind talking about tree climbing, either."

     Optimus chuckled at the compliment. Yes, Mikaela was considered practically flawless according to human standards. He didn't think she was much interested in trees, however, so that little piece of trivia was interesting.

         "Sam's just-" Miles stopped himself, looking in the side mirror as if said teen would pop up by the window of the moving vehicle. "He's become kind of full himself. We used to hang out all the time, but after Bumblebee came along, and then Mikaela, I became the fourth wheel on a three-wheeler."

     He wasn't sure why it felt good to finally say it, but Miles looked up at the sky as if he could see the weight he had been carrying fly away. The thoughtful silence from Optimus made for a comfortable atmosphere as the boy relaxed, glad that he didn't have the time to smoke before they left the hangar in Tranquility. Taking the moment to think, Miles blinked.

         "Hey, how did you know I was smoking?"

         "Marijuana changes your breath, as well as your natural scent." Optimus informed, registering the boy's pupils grow larger with each passing second.

         "Hold up- you guys can smell?"

     Second in line of the miniature convoy, was Ironhide, as he was the heavy hitter of the group and held far more firearms than Ratchet. He was prickling with an itchy trigger finger if any vehicle or aircraft lingered too long for his liking, so Mikaela made it her duty to help him relax a bit by playing a game. Well, humans would call it a game, Ironhide (for the sake of his dignity) called it a training exercise.

         "Pontiac Firebird." She listed off.

        "Bomb." Ironhide decided, having been tasked with deciding what weapons he could create from the wreckage of vehicles around him in a battle (on Earth, anyway).

         "Honda Gold Wing?"

         "Bomb." He answered again.

         "Ironhide, that's the tenth bomb you've made in the span of a minute. Where's your creativity?" She scrolled through her phone to find something that didn't have typical parts.

         "A bomb is easily made in the middle of a battle." Ironhide defended himself. "Realistically, most of these vehicles wouldn't even be salvageable enough to create anything else!"

     Shaking out her raven-black hair, Mikaela sighed, combing it down with her fingers as she tried to stretch her legs, though the pedals were in her way. They were advised to remain in the Driver's side seat, save for Lennox (Ratchet wouldn't tolerate someone sitting at his steering wheel) so she wasn't very comfortable. The young woman had attempted to place her bare feet on Ironhide's dash, but the moody bot absolutely forbade her to do such again. 

         "Well, then pretend there is something salvageable enough." This earned a huff from the mech, a puff of air from the AC ruining Mikaela's new side-part. "Here," she huffed in return, "a 2008 Tesla Roadster."

         "Those were just released, how on Cybertron would one just so happen to be on a battlefield?"

         "The point is that it's different, Ironhide." Flipping her side part back in place, the lone passenger looked through the parts required for a battery powered car. She didn't like the idea, not when it might rival gas powered cars and motorcycles in the future. Her dad's job was more important than technological advances in vehicles. "Now hurry up and think of something other than a bomb! You're getting hypothetically shot at."

     Huffing once more, the mech thought of what else he could turn the grossly manufactured, electric vehicle into. Everything was just so primitive about it, no matter how 'state-of-the-art' the humans claimed it to be.

         "Magnetic detonation device."

         "That's just another bomb!" Mikaela argued immediately, crossing her arms with a pouty expression. 

     It amused the older being, as he knew she was smart enough to see through his change in titles. The only different was this one could stick to his opponent. The game (or training exercise) was beginning to get old, however, and Ironhide was becoming more focused on the occasional car or plane that passed by. There were more cars than planes, but he suspected them all. Mikaela was beginning to notice his paranoia again as his form creaked the more he tensed. She gave a heavy sigh, scrolling through her government paid-for phone again. 

         "Why didn't you argue to go with Witwicky?" 

     Ironhide's sudden question made her jump.

         "What?" The woman blinked as she stared at the steering wheel.

         "You immediately chose to be my charge." He paraphrased himself. "Why?"

     The woman looked outside with a small smile.

         "Sam's been neglecting Bumblebee a bit. I thought it was a good chance for them to have some 'guy-time'." She informed thoughtfully. "Besides, I've spent time with Optimus and Ratchet, but not you as much. I thought since we both like taking things apart and putting them back together, why not join you?"

         "There's a difference between a car motor and a plasma canon." Ironhide informed curtly. 

         "Then tell me about it." She offered to listen. "I'm a mechanic, might as well learn some more mechanisms than just the usual human ones."

     And so Ironhide began his explanation of a plasma canon, starting off with its similarities to a Dodge Caliber's motor (though there were only two, and that was the shape of a single part and its function). The mech explained as best he could, Mikaela's attention never wavering as she repeated some of his lesson to ensure she was understanding the complex configurations of the canon. It kept both of them occupied and Ironhide felt an ounce of pride in being able to teach someone about his passion for firearms. She may never be able to wield such powerful devices, but at least she'd know how to disarm one. 

     Ratchet grumbled behind Ironhide, not at all happy about having a test dummy with a wig sitting in his front seat. Lennox wouldn't budge on the ridiculous formality, however.

         "Humans and their mandatory driver's law." He grumbled for the umpteenth time.

         "Better the dummy than me, Ratchet." William Lennox typed on his military issued computer, having received an email a few minutes prior. "Just remember, once you've got a hologram, you won't have to worry about it."

         "Said holo-matter generators are still sitting on my workbench back in Tranquility." The medic huffed. "Without proper tools or even the proper technology, it will take months to make them even as crude as Barricade's."

         "That's right, he had one." Lennox thought absentmindedly.

         "Has." Ratchet corrected. "His body was never found in the wreckage of Mission City."

     There was a long silence as Ratchet focused on the road (and less on the loathsome weight in his driver's seat) and Lennox continued typing. They had spoken little, the military man having made a call to his wife and to Epps, as well as Fig (the longest being with his wife), then becoming obsessed with his insistent typing that drove his guardian up the walls. In truth, everyone had spoken either very little or not at all until noon the next day, having been exhausted from being woken up so early in the morning. 

         "How is your wife, then?" Ratchet had become annoyed enough to want a conversation over the far-to-loud clicking.

         "Doing well!" Lennox replied with a smile, still staring at his computer. "Annabelle is becoming more active, so she's a little angry that I wasn't coming home after saying I would."

         "Promises unkept are usually cause for angry individuals." Ratchet would have nodded.

         "So, you're on her side?" The Colonel laughed, closing his computer finally. "If this wasn't as serious as Optimus suggested, then I would have. She understands, and truly I'd rather be home, waiting for my kid to take her first steps."

     Ratchet hummed, wishing they didn't have to bring the man along. Lennox was better off with his family, not possibly getting crushed and leaving a daughter and wife behind. The Autobot team had already left everything they had known, so they had nothing to lose, except each other. The loss of Jazz was a hard blow enough, losing a human ally that had become so close would likely be devastating, especially knowing he had a family.

         "I'm afraid I can't empathize, but I can certainly sympathize with you. I agree that you should be with your family." The medic admitted.

         "No need for either, big guy." Lennox pat the seatbelt over his chest, leaning his head back to possibly gain another nap. "I made it through one giant robot battle, I can make it through another."

         "Let's hope there won't be one." Ratchet muttered, but Lennox was already asleep.

     Rolling smoothly behind the three, Bumblebee and Sam were enjoying one of the local music stations. One being an adolescent, and the other with the spark of one, they had already come to terms that Sam didn't need Mikaela's constant presence. Bumblebee suggested checking out the news first, appealing to Sam's worried side. The boy frowned when he found nothing about Mission City and giant robots (nothing new, anyway), then checked for news in Wisconsin. Alas there was nothing suspicious there, either. The newest article was about a drug addict harassing a woman in the airport, and he suggested maybe Barricade finally took on a proper appearance for his hologram in jest.

         "Why can't you guys have holograms again?" Sam questioned.

     Bee switched through the radio, finding clips of dramas and songs that somehow made sense, though garbled. Apparently, they didn't have the correct technology to achieve what they needed. 

         "So, Barricade, wherever he is, is the only guy capable of leaving his real form and parade around as a human?"

         -:Stuck:- Was Bee's answer as they reached a dead zone where the radio crackled too static.

         "Ah." Sam nodded. "Well, that's good then. No future brawls between a fake mustached man and me."

     The black and yellow sports car whirred his usual mechanical laugh before all became quiet again. The smooth rhythm of rolling tires and 65 MPH winds lulled the human back to sleep, since he was nearly as paranoid as Ironhide when it came to looking at passing cars in suspicion. Anything could be a Decepticon at this point. Who knew what had survived after he dropped the cube and gave life to who-knows how many inanimate objects? The bots were sure only Primus could know that answer.

     Several hours ahead of the band of heroes, Barricade waited patiently at a stop light. He could hardly keep the smug feeling from rising up. Starscream was already watching the human femme, so whatever she kept on her wrist would soon be revealed, if he could figure out what it was. The Seeker held a vast intelligence on doomsday devices, so if it wasn't something of that sort, the scout and interrogator doubted they'd find out what it was unless they found someone else with more knowledge.

         'Soundwave would know.' The brute let his tires roll smoothly as the light changed to green. He wasn't in much of a hurry, as he hadn't caught a single Autobot signature on his radar suggesting they had decided to investigate the strange pull as well, though it was likely they did after it changed to Wisconsin. Barricade hadn't given it much thought as he was already in Mission City when the strange attraction to it began, and he knew there was some sort of energy calling to his spark. He thought one just had to be near it to be able to feel the mysterious call. 'Now that it's changed locations,' he brooded, 'I'm sure the Autobots are at least suspicious.'

     With that on his mind, the disguised Decepticon picked up his pace, knowing he was almost halfway to Wisconsin.