FIC: Transformers / Top Gear: GT Part II
For all the work I've put into this, it feels kind of weird to not be posting it anywhere. I don't know where else I could put it, though. That said, I don't care if anyone reading this wants to link it anywhere, either because they like it or because they want to poke fun at it.
* This has since been linked to at topgearslash and, if Aniko is to be believed (and I've no reason to doubt her) at The Padded Cell.
It doesn't fit in one post, so I've linked each entry to the other half of the story.
...I want to say several things about this, including how much I dislike it right now, but I'm not going to! I realize my opinion is tainted quite a lot by the fact that I've been working on this for months. So, without further discussion, here it (finally) is, in all its ridiculous glory.
Title: GT
Author: Jecca Meitahn / twilit_wanderer
Fandom: Transformers/Top Gear crossover
Rating: T
Characters: Mirage and Jeremy Clarkson, with appearances by Decepticons Rumble, Ravage, and Battle Ravage (unnamed), Autobots Jazz and Hound, and humans Richard Hammond and James May. Others referenced.
Pairing: nothing intended, but take it as you will. I don't care.
Wordcount: 13,300
Warnings: this is insane?
Summary: Mirage's deployment goes awry. Jeremy Clarkson's Ford GT arrives. There are no such things as coincidences.
Disclaimer: I'm fairly certain this didn't happen. I do not own Transformers or anything (or anyone) related to Top Gear. I do, however, own an Alternators Mirage, who looks startlingly like Jeremy Clarkson's GT and is the entire cause of this deranged thing.
Notes: The Transformers characters in here all have Alternators forms. The Alternators line has no canon, so I'm kind of making my own up as I go along, but there are a lot of very strong influences from various branches of Transformers continuity. This is completely irrelevant to anyone not familiar with Transformers.
There may be a few problems. I'm not British, so I'm not sure if all of the dialogue is right for Clarkson and the others. I'm not sure my chronology is entirely correct, either, so, if something's glaringly wrong, please tell me so I can try to fix it. I'd love to hear what people think of this in general, as well, even if it is nothing but hatred.
Part I
*
It was over a month later when Hammond and May finally acted. Mirage was a bit impressed, really; he'd begun to think they wouldn't actually try. He was also fairly certain Clarkson had forgotten about it entirely.
He was also quite thankful that they'd managed to wait until he'd recovered from his fight with the Decepticons.
While Clarkson was off distracted somewhere, Hammond and May snuck over and tried to move him out of sight. Mirage, amused and feeling charitable for the time being, helped out by slowly rolling himself along more than their efforts should have achieved.
They left him hidden behind a building for the time being. It sounded as though they had plans for him to be moved even further next time they had a few minutes.
Mirage laughed silently to himself and waited.
*
"Now where has he gone?" Clarkson muttered darkly, looking around the area.
"Where's who gone?" May asked, stepping up beside him.
Clarkson frowned. Both May and Hammond had been looking a bit too smug all afternoon. "Where's my car gone?"
"Probably wherever you left it. I doubt it drove off on its own." May shrugged. "Not that it'd get far if it did."
"That idiot," Clarkson hissed under his breath, but not quietly enough. May looked at him quizzically. "I'm going to find him and I'm going to kill him."
"Jeremy," James said, "it's a car."
"That's what I keep saying."
James blinked at him for a moment before offering, "You can't kill something that's not alive."
Jeremy sighed. "I'm aware of that."
"If you were going to kill it, wouldn't it have been wiser to do that a few months ago?" Richard jumped in to the conversation as he walked over. "You know, before you spent so much feeding it."
"Oh, shut up, both of you," Jeremy said, dismissing them.
James and Richard looked at each other and shrugged, then wandered towards where they'd hidden the car.
"This is worse than usual. He's talking about it as if it's actually alive," James said, voice just above a whisper.
"We should have intervened sooner," Richard agreed, nodding.
"Show yourself, you worthless car!" Jeremy bellowed in the background.
James and Richard exchanged another worried look as they stopped beside the vehicle in question.
"We should probably get him out of here," Richard said as he scratched absently at his scalp.
"Right," James agreed. "I believe it's your turn. I'll ... keep watch over this thing." He gestured towards the Ford.
Richard winced, and turned back.
"Look, it's getting late," he started as he approached Jeremy, who was standing where they'd left him and staring at where he was sure he'd parked earlier.
"I really can't believe this," Jeremy interrupted, almost appearing amused, of all things. "I mean, really. Isn't this too obvious?"
"What are you talking about?" Richard asked, forgetting his original intent in his complete bafflement.
Jeremy looked down at him and, after blinking once very slowly, jumped in surprise. "When did you get there?"
"Have you gone mad?" The question, which he thought might be rhetorical at this point, slipped out before he could even think about it.
Instead of returning an insult, though, Jeremy frowned and muttered, "I am beginning to wonder that myself."
Richard stared at him, wondering if he really had lost all sense this time. "You've been talking to your car - which isn't even here - for at least the last ten minutes."
Jeremy's frown deepened to a scowl and he looked around again, as if waiting for the thing to suddenly appear.
"I was going to offer to take you back to your home," Richard continued, "But now I'm wondering if you don't need to be taken somewhere else, instead."
Jeremy exhaled loudly through his teeth. "He would have shown up by now if he were going to."
"Stop that," Richard demanded, frowning up at him.
There was a long pause before Jeremy asked, "Stop what?"
"Referring to your car as an individual."
Jeremy frowned again, and the pause was much longer this time. "Was I really doing that?"
"Yes!"
"...Oops," Jeremy managed, suddenly looking as worried as Richard felt.
Richard squinted at him and was, against his better judgment, about to ask what that was really supposed to mean when James hurried over and tugged him off to the side muttering, "Problem."
"How do you have a problem watching a car?"
"It's gone," James whispered.
"Gone," Richard repeated, disbelieving.
"I blinked and it disappeared."
"Cars don't disappear!"
"That's what I thought!" James said. "But I'm telling you, it's not there."
"What are you two talking about?" Jeremy asked, inching closer.
"Well, it couldn't have gone far. Go back and look again," Richard hissed, then, to Jeremy, "Nothing."
"Rather frantic sort of nothing, then," he replied.
"It's nothing," James seconded, though it came out a bit weak, as he was feeling a bit disturbed both by the car's apparent disappearance and the way his conversation with Richard had so closely copied his earlier conversation with Jeremy.
"I don't believe you," Jeremy said, looming over the pair menacingly. "You're not responsible for my car's disappearance, are you?"
"Now, really, how could we be?" Richard argued. "If we tried to drive it off, it'd just run out of petrol before we got it anywhere."
Jeremy hummed and then, to their surprise, brightened considerably. "I suppose not. After all, there he is!"
Bewildered, James and Richard both slowly, and a bit nervously, turned to follow Jeremy's gaze.
The Ford GT sat smugly a short distance behind them.
Both men bit off exclamations of surprise at the sight.
Jeremy chuckled.
"How?" James asked, trying to find his voice around the shock. "How did it - ?"
"Wouldn't we have seen it if it had been there this whole time?" Richard pointed at it accusingly.
The chuckle turned into a full laugh, and Jeremy walked over to his car, leaving them to stutter in confused shock. Just before he shut the door, James spoke again. "Je- Jeremy, what - ?" His mouth worked as he searched for the right question before he finally spat out, "What is this, really?"
Jeremy raised an eyebrow mockingly. "This?" he asked, tapping the doorframe. "He's my car."
The door snapped shut, then, and he drove off.
"James," Richard finally managed as the car disappeared down the road, "James, why does he refer to the car he is unnaturally obsessed with in the masculine?"
*
"I've been here how long and yet you still think it's funny to make me look bad," Mirage ranted as Clarkson climbed in.
"I don't think it's funny at all!"
"Then stop it!"
"Stop giving me reasons to and I might consider it," the man offered, not sounding the least bit sincere.
Mirage sighed. "I suppose I should be thankful you've not threatened to blow me up or set me on fire or such."
Clarkson nodded. "You probably deserve it most, but I wouldn't want to have to listen to you complain through it."
They continued along, silent. Mirage considered what he knew of the man and his friends, and decided to try something.
"You know, Jazz chose a Porsche as his vehicle mode," Mirage informed him.
"I thought jazz was a type of music," Clarkson said.
"Jazz is also the name of one of my teammates. If anyone were to come looking for me, it would probably be him," Mirage explained, but then fell silent.
"That is fascinating. Were you going somewhere with that, or are you just talking?"
"Probably the latter," Mirage admitted.
"You never just say things." Clarkson sat quietly for a minute, thinking. "Are you upset because I've been insulting the 911? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jealous. What model was he? "
Mirage didn't respond immediately. "Who?"
"Idiot. Whoever you were just talking about."
"Right, sorry. I was... distracted for a moment," Mirage said.
"By what? There's not even any traffic to worry about," Clarkson said, incredulous.
"Nothing, sorry. Forget I mentioned it."
Clarkson stared at the rearview mirror for a moment before appearing to do exactly that.
*
Mirage hadn't actually expected it to work, so he was a bit thrilled when, several days later, Clarkson stormed out to him, looking even more annoyed than usual.
"You knew that would happen!" he accused.
"What are you talking about?" Mirage asked, sincerely curious but also suspecting that he knew exactly what the man meant.
"You with all your talk about Porsches and jazzes and talking. I really hate you," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"You didn't see Jazz, did you?"
"Of course not!" Clarkson threw his hands up. "I don't think I'd want to, either!"
Mirage waited until they'd entered traffic and gone a good distance before asking what he really wanted to know. "Hammond caught you trying to talk to one of his cars, didn't he?"
Clarkson didn't answer, just frowned at the rearview mirror.
When they stopped, though, he stood leaning on the door for a moment before admitting, "Yes, he did." To Mirage's complete surprise, the man laughed. "That was pretty good, you know. You really had me wondering for a bit." He was still chuckling to himself as he walked off.
While he waited for Clarkson to return, Mirage thought about it, and decided that though it hadn't played out quite as he had intended, he liked the results he got better than the one he'd been aiming for.
He started to consider other strange jokes to play on the man, then nearly groaned aloud as he realized he was beginning to act like some of the jokers in the Autobot ranks that he'd always found a bit annoying.
Mirage wondered, fully aware of how paranoid the thoughts made him, if Clarkson had somehow found out about that and was trying to corrupt him.
*
The others had left, and Mirage had slowly crept closer, silently hinting that he'd like to follow their example. Jeremy ignored him. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.
"Clarkson," Mirage finally said, "How long are you going to take? I want to leave."
"Longer, if you keep that up," he replied, not looking up.
Mirage rumbled in irritation. "You know -"
When the sentence was left unfinished for over a minute, Jeremy did finally glance towards the GT. "Yes, I probably do, but why don't you tell me, anyway, if it'll really make you feel better."
Rather than replying, Mirage revved his engine and backed away.
"Are you running away?" Jeremy shouted after him, incredulous.
"I know it's hard for you, but shut up for a moment," Mirage called back.
Jeremy shook his head and went back to ignoring him. Mirage rolled around the lot a bit, then stopped short.
"Come here," Mirage said, tone suddenly serious.
Jeremy glanced at him again. "Why? Is there a problem?"
"Just hurry and get inside," the car hissed, obviously worried about something.
Jeremy frowned but, a bit unnerved by the change of attitude, started over.
He didn't make it.
A black Corvette sped up, followed closely by a red Honda, and he remembered the day he'd learned the truth about his Ford GT. Unfortunately, the pair didn't seem content to give chase as vehicles this time, and he watched in shock as they transformed into large bipedal robots without even bothering to slow down first.
They both headed towards Mirage, who was leaping up to meet the pair, and Jeremy was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he stood between the two sides.
Mirage hadn't missed that, either, though, and lunged. As he sailed overhead, he shouted, "Run!"
"Where?" Jeremy shouted back, but Mirage crashed headlong into the black one and the pair went tumbling down. Even if Mirage had heard the question and responded, Jeremy wouldn't have been able to hear the answer over the noise.
The red one, busy focusing on the struggle between his companion and Mirage, didn't appear to have noticed him yet, though, so Jeremy cursed and started sprinting away from them while trying to remain as low to the ground as possible.
He staggered as the ground started to shake, and ended up skidding to a stop next to some of the other cars that were still parked in the area. Jeremy stared at them for a moment, then crawled behind them. He knew they wouldn't serve as a shield if either of the two came after him, but maybe they wouldn't see him if -
The black Jaguar beside him suddenly spat a stream of noise at him, vaguely reminiscent of some of the sounds he'd heard coming from computers. Jeremy realized, in slow horror, that it also wasn't just a car.
It unfolded into, he saw with faint surprise, a large quadruped. 'Of course,' he reasoned, while wondering why he was thinking about it and not just running. 'A Jaguar turns into a jaguar.'
The thing snarled, flashing black metal fangs, and took a step towards him. Jeremy stared at it stupidly until a second step brought it too close.
"Mirage!" he shouted, not really believing for an instant he could be heard over the fight. "There's another one!" He tried to scoot backwards, not sure if moving suddenly would be wise or not, and not sure if he'd be able to get away, anyway.
The metal cat stared at him, snarled again, then raised another massive paw and moved to step on him.
Jeremy shouted incoherently, scrambled back to his feet, and started running faster than he'd thought he'd ever been able to.
It wasn't nearly fast enough. The black monstrosity jumped and landed in front of him, and he nearly fell over again as he tried to stop in time to avoid running into it.
"Mirage!" he shouted again, but a quick glace to the side revealed that Mirage was engaged with both of the more humanoid Decepticons and in no position to offer assistance. Jeremy swore violently and tried to back away from the metal cat, but was again thwarted as the thing gently - or at least as gently as it was probably able - knocked him to the side.
He winced and looked up at the thing's face. It looked like it was smiling, and, feeling a bit sick, Jeremy suddenly understood that it was playing with him before going for the kill.
It didn't move, then, waiting for its presumed toy to try and escape again.
"If you're going to kill me, just get on with it!" he shouted at it, refusing to play his role.
The thing tilted its head and grinned, and Jeremy regretted the words instantly. He darted sideways as it again tried to flatten him.
Unfortunately, he'd been so busy watching its feet that he hadn't paid any attention to the head. He glanced back at its face just in time to notice it rushing forward to bite.
Oh, God, he was going to die.
As the creature's gleaming metal fangs came charging at him, Jeremy did the only thing he could possibly think of: he ducked, throwing himself down towards the ground.
Just before he hit, something blisteringly hot seared the air above him. Could the thing breathe fire, he wondered fitfully. Was it going to roast him before eating him?
The blast was followed shortly, however, by a metallic shriek and a resounding clang. The ground shuddered, and then silence fell.
After what felt like an eternity, and scarcely daring to breathe, Jeremy slowly dared to raise his head. The Jaguar was sprawled out a short distance away. As he stared at it, it twitched, sparked, and then, unexpectedly, folded back into a car.
Stunned, and not quite believing what he'd just seen, Jeremy sat partway up and twisted to look behind himself. It looked as though the other two Decepticons were both on top of Mirage, though it was hard to tell, as he wasn't readily visible. As Jeremy looked at the pileup, though, he noticed that the large black one - Ravage, wasn't it? - had a bright blue hand pressing into its face. As he squinted, he also managed to pick out a yellow glow turned towards him that was almost certainly Mirage's eyes.
None of them were moving.
Not even Ravage, which seemed a bit odd, considering he had a fist planted in his face. A second later, though, and for no obvious reason, Ravage twitched and shifted back into a Corvette.
As the car's bulk fell away, more of Mirage emerged, and Jeremy started as he realized that not only was Mirage staring towards him, but he was holding what appeared to be a gun, pointed straight towards him.
Aside from revealing Mirage, the Corvette's reversion also triggered the red one to spring to its feet.
Mirage kicked the Corvette aside and jumped up as well. He kept his gun pointed towards Jeremy and pulled a second one to point towards the only Decepticon still standing - Rumble.
Despite the fact that Mirage towered over him, Rumble seemed ready to attack again.
Jeremy felt his skin crawl in the particular way he'd come to associate with being scanned, then Mirage shifted to point both of his weapons towards the Decepticon. That did seem to intimidate Rumble, who glanced quickly towards Jeremy and the downed Jaguar behind him.
Mirage's fingers twitched. "Leave," he commanded, and Jeremy and Rumble both jumped at the sudden noise. "Leave now." The cold threat in his voice was somehow more terrifying that the encounter with the Jaguar had been.
Rumble hesitated a moment, maybe weighing his options. Mirage tensed, and Rumble dropped back into the form of a Honda and sped off. Jeremy and Mirage both watched him drive away, though Mirage kept staring long after the car had disappeared from Jeremy's sight.
It was almost audible when Mirage finally turned away, relaxing. "Are you badly injured?" he asked, closing the distance between them in a few long strides and crouching so they were as close to eye level as possible.
Jeremy stood up a bit more shakily than he'd have liked, but couldn't answer.
Mirage frowned. "Do you need me to bring you to a medic?"
"You've ... got a thing, there," Jeremy finally managed numbly, pointing to one of the many dents Mirage had.
"I'm aware, Clar- We need to get out of here," Mirage told him, cutting himself off. "Someone's going to come and investigate what the noise was, and we probably shouldn't be here when that happens. If you're not in need of medical attention, I'd recommend we simply go home."
Jeremy nodded, and Mirage dropped to the ground, landing as a vehicle. He popped the driver's side door open and Jeremy sat down heavily, glancing back at the Jaguar once more before Mirage accelerated and left the area.
*
The road humming beneath his wheels was the only sound as he sped down the road. Several times, Mirage considered asking again if he should seek medical help for his passenger, but he never actually voiced the query. He hoped that if the man really was hurt, he'd say something.
They'd been driving for nearly twenty minutes when, "Could we please not talk about how I was just nearly eaten by a giant... robot... cat thing!" Jeremy bellowed suddenly, pressing both hands against the wheel hard as if trying to shove it away.
Mirage nearly stalled in surprise at the outburst.
"Ugh," Jeremy groaned, oblivious to Mirage's reaction. "Why didn't you say there was a third?"
"I didn't know," Mirage confessed. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened."
"What happened?" he asked, voice flat. "Why did it stop?"
"I think," Mirage started slowly, not entirely sure of the idea he was about to propose.
"I mean, the thing had won, hadn't it?" Jeremy continued, appearing to ignore Mirage's attempts to communicate with him.
"Clarkson," Mirage started again.
"It just, what, fell over?"
"Jeremy," Mirage said loudly, beginning to think he should pull over.
"What?" the man snapped in return.
"Are you all right?" Mirage asked again.
"I was just nearly killed by an space-alien car-jaguar. I've never been better. Let's go try it again. Maybe next time you'll be luckier."
"I'm sorry," Mirage said again. "I honestly had no idea the third one even existed!"
"Well, why not? Aren't you supposed to be some sort of spy who knows all about the other guys?" Jeremy demanded, dropping all pretenses of actually driving by crossing his arms.
"I think," Mirage tried again, "that maybe the Corvette, the one we've thought to be Ravage all this time, may have been some sort of drone. It dropped shortly after I shot the one that attacked you."
"That was because of you?" He nearly shouted the question. "What did you do?"
"I shot him in the mouth," Mirage answered. "When he went to grab you."
"You nearly hit me," Jeremy accused.
"Jeremy, I'm going to be completely honest with you. You can yell as much as you want about it, but," Mirage said, voice low, "if you hadn't ducked and I'd hit you instead of Ravage, I'd have done you a favor. The energy blast would have killed you instantly. Ravage is ... nasty. He'd have left you alive as long as possible."
Jeremy fell silent again, absorbing that.
"You do know you just had the perfect opportunity to get rid of me back there," he finally said, almost questioningly. He paused, then continued, and Mirage was surprised at the relief he felt as the man's tone returned to the one he'd become accustomed to. "What happened? You didn't go and have a change of heart all of a sudden, did you?"
"It wouldn't have been right," Mirage said. "And I'm aware that's a weak excuse, but you being annoying doesn't give the Decepticons the right to kill you."
"Saving me for yourself, then," Jeremy hummed thoughtfully. "All right, that's fair. Now, how am I going to explain this mess on me?"
Mirage scanned him again and finally noticed his palms, scraped and bleeding from too many collisions with the rough paving of the lot. No wonder the man's grip had felt a bit odd. Mirage scolded himself for not noticing sooner and pulled off to the side. "Get out and check the... boot."
Jeremy did as instructed and pulled out a first aid kit. "Where did you pull this from?"
"Our medic insists we all carry one, in case we ever found ourselves in a situation with a wounded human. I've been carrying it around the entire time."
"I never saw it," Jeremy accused.
"It's been packed away," Mirage explained. "It would only have taken up unnecessary room otherwise."
"Why didn't you ever volunteer to carry things like that when I needed you to?" Jeremy groused as he got back in and Mirage started off again.
"I'm not sure if it'll have everything," Mirage said. "It should at least have enough to get the worst off, though. And why would I do something like that when it would deprive you of the joy of complaining about my limited space?"
"Right. Very considerate of you, that," Jeremy said, then focused on trying to clean the grit out of his wounds.
*
Despite Jeremy's insistence that he was fine and the way Rumble had fled, Mirage didn't offline for weeks after, running constant scans to make sure the area was secure.
*
"Good news for you!" Jeremy called as he approached.
"You're not going to make me guess, are you?" Mirage asked.
"No," Jeremy said firmly. "I am going to America."
"What?" Mirage rocked on his wheels. "When? Where?"
"A few days. We're going to Florida to shoot for an episode."
"For how long?"
"Don't know. Not very. But, listen, since I'm not going to be here -"
"No," Mirage interrupted.
"'No'?" Jeremy repeated surprised
"I - No, I mean," Mirage rumbled, frustrated. "Jeremy, would you do me a favor?"
"That depends," he answered. "Is it going to get me shot at?"
"It shouldn't."
"Then I'll give you a definite maybe."
Mirage took that as an affirmative. "When you go, could I give you something? You'd need to keep it on your person at all times. It's just a little chip, but -"
"You're not going to try and control my mind, are you?" Jeremy joked, leaning against the door.
"Blast. How did you guess?" Mirage deadpanned. "No, it's a transmitter. It'll give off a signal that the Autobots will be able to pick up on, and -"
"And so will the Decepticons, who will come running to take another shot at me. No."
"No," Mirage reassured him. "I'll set it special. Only one of us will even be checking for something like it."
"If it's that specific, how do you know it's going to work?"
"Nothing gets past him. Look, this could be my best chance to contact them, Jeremy," Mirage pressed.
The man frowned, as if considering. "All right, fine," he finally conceded. "But only if you're sure it won't cause any problems."
"I promise," Mirage swore. "If anything happens to you, it'll be entirely because of your own idiocy."
Jeremy scoffed at that.
When he left, Mirage sent him with a small transmitter and prayed that Red Alert hadn't been incapacitated.
*
Considering the effort he had put into making sure the transmitter would be as inconspicuous as possible, Mirage was surprised when Jeremy described his trip.
"I got shot at."
"How did you get away?" he asked, shocked. It wasn't like the Decepticons to just break off pursuit, and he doubted the team would have been able to scare them off.
Jeremy laughed then. "It wasn't your Deception-bots-"
"Decepticons," Mirage corrected automatically.
"Whatever," Jeremy dismissed. "And we weren't actually shot at. We were chased a bit, though."
"Chased by who, then? Other humans?" Mirage considered that a moment. "Well, I guess I can't blame them for wanting to kill you."
"Oh, very funny. I didn't see any signs of talking cars, by the way."
"That might be a good sign, actually," Mirage said. "It means they either got the entire message or none of it."
"How will you know which?" Jeremy asked as they raced along.
"It's very simple," Mirage told him. "If they show up, they got it. If I end up living here for the rest of time, they didn't."
*
He was moving a bit awkwardly, Mirage noted. Nervously, almost. What could possibly be bringing that on? He popped his driver's side door open.
Jeremy quickly ducked inside and grabbed the wheel. "There's a Jeep out there," he hissed.
"That's ... nice?"
"Why is there a Jeep out there? It's staring at me."
"I don't know. Perhaps its owner left it there." Mirage paused as the second comment registered. "Wait, it is? How can you tell?"
"I just know! It's like when you stare, only ... different." He frowned at his wording. "I just know."
"It's not yellow, is it?" Mirage asked, worried. Swindle alone wouldn't be too much trouble, but if he'd brought company...
"No. Should it be? No," he repeated. "It's green."
"Green? That's Hound!" Mirage revved his engine and started to move, but Jeremy pressed the brakes. It didn't really affect anything, but it delivered a message.
"How stupid are you? You can't just go out and have a conversation in the middle of the day! And what kind of name is 'Hound,' anyway?"
"He's our scout. He's probably looking for me," Mirage said impatiently, then sighed. "But you're right - and don't you dare let that go to your head."
"Why would I let it go to my head? I'm always right, and you know that," Jeremy scoffed. "So what do we do?"
"You'll have to go over and make sure it's really him. No one will think it strange to see you talking to a vehicle, after all."
"I don't talk to every car. I don't even talk to most of them! I talk about them, and there's a significant difference."
"Then pretend to make a call or something, I don't care!" Mirage opened his door back up. "Just get out there. And shout if it tries to kill you."
"I think I could've figured that one out for myself," Jeremy muttered darkly as he left.
*
The Jeep was still there, unsurprisingly. Jeremy glared at it as he approached. It was, he concluded, definitely watching him. After being around Mirage for so long, he'd started picking up on the slight unnatural shifts that resulted as his movements were tracked. He couldn't describe the subtle signs; he just knew they were there.
Just within arm's reach of the vehicle, he stopped, pulled out his mobile, and, flipping it open, pretended to answer.
"Hello?" he asked, staring at the Jeep. It didn't give any indication of having heard him.
"Sorry, can't hear you. One moment," he said and, boldly and perhaps a bit stupidly, closed the short distance and proceeded to lean against the side of the Jeep. "Hello, yes... Hound, was it?"
The metal beneath him shifted slightly.
"Mirage said I should come over and talk to you. He hasn't ever got the best ideas, of course, but I figured this was better than letting him make an idiot of himself."
The receiver crackled a bit and Jeremy jumped as a voice suddenly came out of it. "Hello. I see you already know my name, but who are you?"
"What- ? How are you doing that?" He pulled the phone away from his ear in surprise and blinked at it.
The Jeep rumbled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Hound apologized, speaking directly this time. "I wasn't sure how you expected me to reply."
"Ah," Jeremy said, feeling a bit foolish.
The green vehicle sat quiet again. Was it waiting for something?
"I suppose you're here about Mirage, then," Jeremy started again after several moments of awkward silence.
"Yes, we've been looking for him," Hound said. "He's actually here?"
"No," Jeremy replied. "I made that name up and guessed yours."
"That really was a stupid question, wasn't it?" The car shifted again, possibly in embarrassment. "That's a relief, though. We've been looking all over."
"What do you mean, 'we'?" Jeremy asked. There weren't any other vehicles around, or at least none that he could see. Hadn't Mirage said he was the only one who could turn invisible?
"I came here with someone else - Jazz. He's on his way now," Hound clarified.
"What, here?"
"Is that a problem?"
"You can't all just show up here! What if people see you? They might think I bought you or something. Isn't Jazz a Porsche?"
"Not anymore," Hound told him, though Jeremy thought he sounded a bit puzzled.
"That's not what Mirage said," he accused.
"Jazz scanned a Mazda a while ago. Mirage must not have told you the whole story."
"What model?" Jeremy asked reflexively, making a note to ask Mirage about that.
"He's a white RX8," Hound said.
"Really. How's he handle wet roads?"
"I don't know," Hound said. "I never thought to ask. I've never heard him complain. Why?"
"Just wondering," Jeremy said dismissively. He cocked his head. "I'd ask you to come in, but I don't think that quite works with vehicles."
"It's not a problem," Hound assured him. "Though maybe when Jazz arrives we should all go someplace where there won't be other humans around."
A quiet rumbling behind him made Jeremy turn around. There wasn't anything there, but...
"I thought you were going to stay out of sight," he said.
Hound shifted again and was probably about to ask what that was supposed to mean when Mirage shot back, "I am out of sight. Hound! Is that really you?"
"Mirage!" the Jeep returned. "It's good to, uh... hear you again, anyway."
The two suddenly fell silent.
After several minutes, Jeremy began to wonder if something had happened, and was considering asking when a third car drove up. It hesitated a moment, then confidently stopped next to Hound.
"Hey, what's up?" it asked.
Mirage suddenly deactivated his field, causing Jeremy to jump in surprise. "What is going on?" he demanded.
"Oh, sorry," Mirage said. "We were talking. Here, this is Hound, though you've talked to him already. The Mazda is Jazz. This is Jeremy Clarkson. He... well, I guess you know that story if you're here."
The Mazda laughed. "And what a story! Mirage, how do you manage to get into these situations?"
"This has happened before?" Jeremy asked, stunned.
"No," Mirage and Jazz both responded. Jazz continued, "But he attracts almost as many unlikely scenarios as I do, and that's saying something."
"Should we really be sitting out here talking like this?" Hound asked.
"No," Jeremy said firmly. "No, we shouldn't. Let me in, Mirage. I know where we can go."
*
Several hours later, many of them consisting of the two new arrivals informing himself and Mirage on what they had planned, Jeremy looked up at the three massive robots standing nearby and said suddenly, "So this is what the world looks like to Hammond."
Mirage choked back a laugh and the other two, unsurprisingly, looked confused. "I'll explain that later," Mirage promised.
*
"So you're both all set, then?" Jazz asked, crouched down in a vain attempt to not completely tower over the only human present.
Jeremy and Mirage both nodded.
"Say it back for me," he prompted.
"No," Jeremy said.
Mirage shifted and Jazz looked at him expectantly. "Fine," Mirage grumbled. "You and Hound will bring the Ford GT you constructed back at the Ark, Hound will cover the area with a hologram so we can move it in unseen, and then we'll drive off with me hiding until we're far enough away that no one will be surprised by the presence of two extremely uncommon cars."
"Great!" Jazz grinned, and Jeremy suspected he only asked for the recap to be annoying.
"You know," Mirage said, "it's really unnecessary, all this extra caution. I think people would be more surprised if they didn't see him surrounded by strange cars."
Hound shifted. "Maybe so, but you know how Prowl and Red Alert can be about regulations."
"No, I don't," Jeremy said, mostly because he felt he'd been left out of the majority of the conversation than out of any real need to remind them that he didn't know who they were talking about.
"I did tell you about them some," Mirage whispered. "Prowl is the one who - "
"Okay!" Jazz said cheerfully, interrupting, as he stood and clapped his hands once. "See ya in three days, then!"
*
"If it gives me half as many problems as you have, I'm going to find you and kill you," Jeremy threatened.
Mirage seemed unperturbed. "Well, you could always sell it and get that Lamborghini you liked. I've heard that they're nice cars from a few individuals who'd know."
"Ignoring that you seem to have just implied that I don't know much of anything about Lamborghinis for now, what, dare I ask, is that supposed to mean?"
"... They turned into them."
Jeremy straightened a bit. "Are you trying to set me up to house another one of you?"
"No, I wouldn't inflict that on anyone," Mirage muttered, then continued in his normal range, "They all reformatted recently, anyway."
Jeremy started to reply, but the two cars from three days prior drove up and Mirage shifted on his wheels. "Your friends are here," he said instead.
"I can see that."
"I'm not going to miss you," Jeremy stated suddenly, leaning over to rest his elbow on Mirage's roof.
"I wasn't worried," Mirage informed him.
They stood in silence for a moment, then Mirage revved his engine. "You'd best move, unless you want to get hit."
"Right," Jeremy agreed, and backed away a bit.
"That should be fine," Mirage said, and clicked his radio to tell Jazz and Hound they were ready. As an afterthought, he warned, "This might be a bit weird."
"It gets weirder than talking robot cars from space invading my property?" Jeremy asked, then frowned as the unmistakable sound of Mirage transforming was countered by the GT remaining unmoving in front of him. "Now how does that work?"
"Hound's holograms. We explained this, but you didn't believe it," Mirage replied from somewhere above.
Nothing appeared to happen, but then after a few minutes, Mirage spoke up again, sounding further away than he had before. "You're all set." Then the sound came again as, Jeremy presumed, Mirage folded back into a vehicle somewhere on the road.
The Jeep started to drive off, but the Mazda remained in place. Jeremy squinted at it curiously. It flashed its lights a few times, and finally edged a bit closer.
"What?" He asked, walking over to it.
"I'm not sure Mirage told you, but we're gonna be watching you for a while, just to make sure no Decepticons get any ideas."
No, Mirage hadn't mentioned that. "Right," Jeremy said, anyway. "That all?"
"Guess so," the car, no, Jazz, said, then lowered his voice a bit. "And, hey, thanks for helpin' him out."
Jeremy snorted and crossed his arms, not sure how to respond to that. Jazz flashed his lights again, then pulled out and followed after the Jeep.
After they'd driven out of sight, Jeremy examined the vehicle before him. It looked exactly the same. He pulled the driver's door open and leaned inside, looking around.
"Well, car. Guess it's just you and me now," he muttered.
No response, of course. Jeremy frowned at it.
Not even a month later, he sold it and ordered a Gallardo Spyder.
- END -
Edit I should've done quite a while ago...
There are other stories (all one-shots) related to this. In order of writing, they are: Sympathy, Prodding, On Names, and "With A Chance of Rain".
* This has since been linked to at topgearslash and, if Aniko is to be believed (and I've no reason to doubt her) at The Padded Cell.
It doesn't fit in one post, so I've linked each entry to the other half of the story.
...I want to say several things about this, including how much I dislike it right now, but I'm not going to! I realize my opinion is tainted quite a lot by the fact that I've been working on this for months. So, without further discussion, here it (finally) is, in all its ridiculous glory.
Title: GT
Author: Jecca Meitahn / twilit_wanderer
Fandom: Transformers/Top Gear crossover
Rating: T
Characters: Mirage and Jeremy Clarkson, with appearances by Decepticons Rumble, Ravage, and Battle Ravage (unnamed), Autobots Jazz and Hound, and humans Richard Hammond and James May. Others referenced.
Pairing: nothing intended, but take it as you will. I don't care.
Wordcount: 13,300
Warnings: this is insane?
Summary: Mirage's deployment goes awry. Jeremy Clarkson's Ford GT arrives. There are no such things as coincidences.
Disclaimer: I'm fairly certain this didn't happen. I do not own Transformers or anything (or anyone) related to Top Gear. I do, however, own an Alternators Mirage, who looks startlingly like Jeremy Clarkson's GT and is the entire cause of this deranged thing.
Notes: The Transformers characters in here all have Alternators forms. The Alternators line has no canon, so I'm kind of making my own up as I go along, but there are a lot of very strong influences from various branches of Transformers continuity. This is completely irrelevant to anyone not familiar with Transformers.
There may be a few problems. I'm not British, so I'm not sure if all of the dialogue is right for Clarkson and the others. I'm not sure my chronology is entirely correct, either, so, if something's glaringly wrong, please tell me so I can try to fix it. I'd love to hear what people think of this in general, as well, even if it is nothing but hatred.
Part I
*
It was over a month later when Hammond and May finally acted. Mirage was a bit impressed, really; he'd begun to think they wouldn't actually try. He was also fairly certain Clarkson had forgotten about it entirely.
He was also quite thankful that they'd managed to wait until he'd recovered from his fight with the Decepticons.
While Clarkson was off distracted somewhere, Hammond and May snuck over and tried to move him out of sight. Mirage, amused and feeling charitable for the time being, helped out by slowly rolling himself along more than their efforts should have achieved.
They left him hidden behind a building for the time being. It sounded as though they had plans for him to be moved even further next time they had a few minutes.
Mirage laughed silently to himself and waited.
*
"Now where has he gone?" Clarkson muttered darkly, looking around the area.
"Where's who gone?" May asked, stepping up beside him.
Clarkson frowned. Both May and Hammond had been looking a bit too smug all afternoon. "Where's my car gone?"
"Probably wherever you left it. I doubt it drove off on its own." May shrugged. "Not that it'd get far if it did."
"That idiot," Clarkson hissed under his breath, but not quietly enough. May looked at him quizzically. "I'm going to find him and I'm going to kill him."
"Jeremy," James said, "it's a car."
"That's what I keep saying."
James blinked at him for a moment before offering, "You can't kill something that's not alive."
Jeremy sighed. "I'm aware of that."
"If you were going to kill it, wouldn't it have been wiser to do that a few months ago?" Richard jumped in to the conversation as he walked over. "You know, before you spent so much feeding it."
"Oh, shut up, both of you," Jeremy said, dismissing them.
James and Richard looked at each other and shrugged, then wandered towards where they'd hidden the car.
"This is worse than usual. He's talking about it as if it's actually alive," James said, voice just above a whisper.
"We should have intervened sooner," Richard agreed, nodding.
"Show yourself, you worthless car!" Jeremy bellowed in the background.
James and Richard exchanged another worried look as they stopped beside the vehicle in question.
"We should probably get him out of here," Richard said as he scratched absently at his scalp.
"Right," James agreed. "I believe it's your turn. I'll ... keep watch over this thing." He gestured towards the Ford.
Richard winced, and turned back.
"Look, it's getting late," he started as he approached Jeremy, who was standing where they'd left him and staring at where he was sure he'd parked earlier.
"I really can't believe this," Jeremy interrupted, almost appearing amused, of all things. "I mean, really. Isn't this too obvious?"
"What are you talking about?" Richard asked, forgetting his original intent in his complete bafflement.
Jeremy looked down at him and, after blinking once very slowly, jumped in surprise. "When did you get there?"
"Have you gone mad?" The question, which he thought might be rhetorical at this point, slipped out before he could even think about it.
Instead of returning an insult, though, Jeremy frowned and muttered, "I am beginning to wonder that myself."
Richard stared at him, wondering if he really had lost all sense this time. "You've been talking to your car - which isn't even here - for at least the last ten minutes."
Jeremy's frown deepened to a scowl and he looked around again, as if waiting for the thing to suddenly appear.
"I was going to offer to take you back to your home," Richard continued, "But now I'm wondering if you don't need to be taken somewhere else, instead."
Jeremy exhaled loudly through his teeth. "He would have shown up by now if he were going to."
"Stop that," Richard demanded, frowning up at him.
There was a long pause before Jeremy asked, "Stop what?"
"Referring to your car as an individual."
Jeremy frowned again, and the pause was much longer this time. "Was I really doing that?"
"Yes!"
"...Oops," Jeremy managed, suddenly looking as worried as Richard felt.
Richard squinted at him and was, against his better judgment, about to ask what that was really supposed to mean when James hurried over and tugged him off to the side muttering, "Problem."
"How do you have a problem watching a car?"
"It's gone," James whispered.
"Gone," Richard repeated, disbelieving.
"I blinked and it disappeared."
"Cars don't disappear!"
"That's what I thought!" James said. "But I'm telling you, it's not there."
"What are you two talking about?" Jeremy asked, inching closer.
"Well, it couldn't have gone far. Go back and look again," Richard hissed, then, to Jeremy, "Nothing."
"Rather frantic sort of nothing, then," he replied.
"It's nothing," James seconded, though it came out a bit weak, as he was feeling a bit disturbed both by the car's apparent disappearance and the way his conversation with Richard had so closely copied his earlier conversation with Jeremy.
"I don't believe you," Jeremy said, looming over the pair menacingly. "You're not responsible for my car's disappearance, are you?"
"Now, really, how could we be?" Richard argued. "If we tried to drive it off, it'd just run out of petrol before we got it anywhere."
Jeremy hummed and then, to their surprise, brightened considerably. "I suppose not. After all, there he is!"
Bewildered, James and Richard both slowly, and a bit nervously, turned to follow Jeremy's gaze.
The Ford GT sat smugly a short distance behind them.
Both men bit off exclamations of surprise at the sight.
Jeremy chuckled.
"How?" James asked, trying to find his voice around the shock. "How did it - ?"
"Wouldn't we have seen it if it had been there this whole time?" Richard pointed at it accusingly.
The chuckle turned into a full laugh, and Jeremy walked over to his car, leaving them to stutter in confused shock. Just before he shut the door, James spoke again. "Je- Jeremy, what - ?" His mouth worked as he searched for the right question before he finally spat out, "What is this, really?"
Jeremy raised an eyebrow mockingly. "This?" he asked, tapping the doorframe. "He's my car."
The door snapped shut, then, and he drove off.
"James," Richard finally managed as the car disappeared down the road, "James, why does he refer to the car he is unnaturally obsessed with in the masculine?"
*
"I've been here how long and yet you still think it's funny to make me look bad," Mirage ranted as Clarkson climbed in.
"I don't think it's funny at all!"
"Then stop it!"
"Stop giving me reasons to and I might consider it," the man offered, not sounding the least bit sincere.
Mirage sighed. "I suppose I should be thankful you've not threatened to blow me up or set me on fire or such."
Clarkson nodded. "You probably deserve it most, but I wouldn't want to have to listen to you complain through it."
They continued along, silent. Mirage considered what he knew of the man and his friends, and decided to try something.
"You know, Jazz chose a Porsche as his vehicle mode," Mirage informed him.
"I thought jazz was a type of music," Clarkson said.
"Jazz is also the name of one of my teammates. If anyone were to come looking for me, it would probably be him," Mirage explained, but then fell silent.
"That is fascinating. Were you going somewhere with that, or are you just talking?"
"Probably the latter," Mirage admitted.
"You never just say things." Clarkson sat quietly for a minute, thinking. "Are you upset because I've been insulting the 911? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jealous. What model was he? "
Mirage didn't respond immediately. "Who?"
"Idiot. Whoever you were just talking about."
"Right, sorry. I was... distracted for a moment," Mirage said.
"By what? There's not even any traffic to worry about," Clarkson said, incredulous.
"Nothing, sorry. Forget I mentioned it."
Clarkson stared at the rearview mirror for a moment before appearing to do exactly that.
*
Mirage hadn't actually expected it to work, so he was a bit thrilled when, several days later, Clarkson stormed out to him, looking even more annoyed than usual.
"You knew that would happen!" he accused.
"What are you talking about?" Mirage asked, sincerely curious but also suspecting that he knew exactly what the man meant.
"You with all your talk about Porsches and jazzes and talking. I really hate you," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"You didn't see Jazz, did you?"
"Of course not!" Clarkson threw his hands up. "I don't think I'd want to, either!"
Mirage waited until they'd entered traffic and gone a good distance before asking what he really wanted to know. "Hammond caught you trying to talk to one of his cars, didn't he?"
Clarkson didn't answer, just frowned at the rearview mirror.
When they stopped, though, he stood leaning on the door for a moment before admitting, "Yes, he did." To Mirage's complete surprise, the man laughed. "That was pretty good, you know. You really had me wondering for a bit." He was still chuckling to himself as he walked off.
While he waited for Clarkson to return, Mirage thought about it, and decided that though it hadn't played out quite as he had intended, he liked the results he got better than the one he'd been aiming for.
He started to consider other strange jokes to play on the man, then nearly groaned aloud as he realized he was beginning to act like some of the jokers in the Autobot ranks that he'd always found a bit annoying.
Mirage wondered, fully aware of how paranoid the thoughts made him, if Clarkson had somehow found out about that and was trying to corrupt him.
*
The others had left, and Mirage had slowly crept closer, silently hinting that he'd like to follow their example. Jeremy ignored him. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.
"Clarkson," Mirage finally said, "How long are you going to take? I want to leave."
"Longer, if you keep that up," he replied, not looking up.
Mirage rumbled in irritation. "You know -"
When the sentence was left unfinished for over a minute, Jeremy did finally glance towards the GT. "Yes, I probably do, but why don't you tell me, anyway, if it'll really make you feel better."
Rather than replying, Mirage revved his engine and backed away.
"Are you running away?" Jeremy shouted after him, incredulous.
"I know it's hard for you, but shut up for a moment," Mirage called back.
Jeremy shook his head and went back to ignoring him. Mirage rolled around the lot a bit, then stopped short.
"Come here," Mirage said, tone suddenly serious.
Jeremy glanced at him again. "Why? Is there a problem?"
"Just hurry and get inside," the car hissed, obviously worried about something.
Jeremy frowned but, a bit unnerved by the change of attitude, started over.
He didn't make it.
A black Corvette sped up, followed closely by a red Honda, and he remembered the day he'd learned the truth about his Ford GT. Unfortunately, the pair didn't seem content to give chase as vehicles this time, and he watched in shock as they transformed into large bipedal robots without even bothering to slow down first.
They both headed towards Mirage, who was leaping up to meet the pair, and Jeremy was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he stood between the two sides.
Mirage hadn't missed that, either, though, and lunged. As he sailed overhead, he shouted, "Run!"
"Where?" Jeremy shouted back, but Mirage crashed headlong into the black one and the pair went tumbling down. Even if Mirage had heard the question and responded, Jeremy wouldn't have been able to hear the answer over the noise.
The red one, busy focusing on the struggle between his companion and Mirage, didn't appear to have noticed him yet, though, so Jeremy cursed and started sprinting away from them while trying to remain as low to the ground as possible.
He staggered as the ground started to shake, and ended up skidding to a stop next to some of the other cars that were still parked in the area. Jeremy stared at them for a moment, then crawled behind them. He knew they wouldn't serve as a shield if either of the two came after him, but maybe they wouldn't see him if -
The black Jaguar beside him suddenly spat a stream of noise at him, vaguely reminiscent of some of the sounds he'd heard coming from computers. Jeremy realized, in slow horror, that it also wasn't just a car.
It unfolded into, he saw with faint surprise, a large quadruped. 'Of course,' he reasoned, while wondering why he was thinking about it and not just running. 'A Jaguar turns into a jaguar.'
The thing snarled, flashing black metal fangs, and took a step towards him. Jeremy stared at it stupidly until a second step brought it too close.
"Mirage!" he shouted, not really believing for an instant he could be heard over the fight. "There's another one!" He tried to scoot backwards, not sure if moving suddenly would be wise or not, and not sure if he'd be able to get away, anyway.
The metal cat stared at him, snarled again, then raised another massive paw and moved to step on him.
Jeremy shouted incoherently, scrambled back to his feet, and started running faster than he'd thought he'd ever been able to.
It wasn't nearly fast enough. The black monstrosity jumped and landed in front of him, and he nearly fell over again as he tried to stop in time to avoid running into it.
"Mirage!" he shouted again, but a quick glace to the side revealed that Mirage was engaged with both of the more humanoid Decepticons and in no position to offer assistance. Jeremy swore violently and tried to back away from the metal cat, but was again thwarted as the thing gently - or at least as gently as it was probably able - knocked him to the side.
He winced and looked up at the thing's face. It looked like it was smiling, and, feeling a bit sick, Jeremy suddenly understood that it was playing with him before going for the kill.
It didn't move, then, waiting for its presumed toy to try and escape again.
"If you're going to kill me, just get on with it!" he shouted at it, refusing to play his role.
The thing tilted its head and grinned, and Jeremy regretted the words instantly. He darted sideways as it again tried to flatten him.
Unfortunately, he'd been so busy watching its feet that he hadn't paid any attention to the head. He glanced back at its face just in time to notice it rushing forward to bite.
Oh, God, he was going to die.
As the creature's gleaming metal fangs came charging at him, Jeremy did the only thing he could possibly think of: he ducked, throwing himself down towards the ground.
Just before he hit, something blisteringly hot seared the air above him. Could the thing breathe fire, he wondered fitfully. Was it going to roast him before eating him?
The blast was followed shortly, however, by a metallic shriek and a resounding clang. The ground shuddered, and then silence fell.
After what felt like an eternity, and scarcely daring to breathe, Jeremy slowly dared to raise his head. The Jaguar was sprawled out a short distance away. As he stared at it, it twitched, sparked, and then, unexpectedly, folded back into a car.
Stunned, and not quite believing what he'd just seen, Jeremy sat partway up and twisted to look behind himself. It looked as though the other two Decepticons were both on top of Mirage, though it was hard to tell, as he wasn't readily visible. As Jeremy looked at the pileup, though, he noticed that the large black one - Ravage, wasn't it? - had a bright blue hand pressing into its face. As he squinted, he also managed to pick out a yellow glow turned towards him that was almost certainly Mirage's eyes.
None of them were moving.
Not even Ravage, which seemed a bit odd, considering he had a fist planted in his face. A second later, though, and for no obvious reason, Ravage twitched and shifted back into a Corvette.
As the car's bulk fell away, more of Mirage emerged, and Jeremy started as he realized that not only was Mirage staring towards him, but he was holding what appeared to be a gun, pointed straight towards him.
Aside from revealing Mirage, the Corvette's reversion also triggered the red one to spring to its feet.
Mirage kicked the Corvette aside and jumped up as well. He kept his gun pointed towards Jeremy and pulled a second one to point towards the only Decepticon still standing - Rumble.
Despite the fact that Mirage towered over him, Rumble seemed ready to attack again.
Jeremy felt his skin crawl in the particular way he'd come to associate with being scanned, then Mirage shifted to point both of his weapons towards the Decepticon. That did seem to intimidate Rumble, who glanced quickly towards Jeremy and the downed Jaguar behind him.
Mirage's fingers twitched. "Leave," he commanded, and Jeremy and Rumble both jumped at the sudden noise. "Leave now." The cold threat in his voice was somehow more terrifying that the encounter with the Jaguar had been.
Rumble hesitated a moment, maybe weighing his options. Mirage tensed, and Rumble dropped back into the form of a Honda and sped off. Jeremy and Mirage both watched him drive away, though Mirage kept staring long after the car had disappeared from Jeremy's sight.
It was almost audible when Mirage finally turned away, relaxing. "Are you badly injured?" he asked, closing the distance between them in a few long strides and crouching so they were as close to eye level as possible.
Jeremy stood up a bit more shakily than he'd have liked, but couldn't answer.
Mirage frowned. "Do you need me to bring you to a medic?"
"You've ... got a thing, there," Jeremy finally managed numbly, pointing to one of the many dents Mirage had.
"I'm aware, Clar- We need to get out of here," Mirage told him, cutting himself off. "Someone's going to come and investigate what the noise was, and we probably shouldn't be here when that happens. If you're not in need of medical attention, I'd recommend we simply go home."
Jeremy nodded, and Mirage dropped to the ground, landing as a vehicle. He popped the driver's side door open and Jeremy sat down heavily, glancing back at the Jaguar once more before Mirage accelerated and left the area.
*
The road humming beneath his wheels was the only sound as he sped down the road. Several times, Mirage considered asking again if he should seek medical help for his passenger, but he never actually voiced the query. He hoped that if the man really was hurt, he'd say something.
They'd been driving for nearly twenty minutes when, "Could we please not talk about how I was just nearly eaten by a giant... robot... cat thing!" Jeremy bellowed suddenly, pressing both hands against the wheel hard as if trying to shove it away.
Mirage nearly stalled in surprise at the outburst.
"Ugh," Jeremy groaned, oblivious to Mirage's reaction. "Why didn't you say there was a third?"
"I didn't know," Mirage confessed. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened."
"What happened?" he asked, voice flat. "Why did it stop?"
"I think," Mirage started slowly, not entirely sure of the idea he was about to propose.
"I mean, the thing had won, hadn't it?" Jeremy continued, appearing to ignore Mirage's attempts to communicate with him.
"Clarkson," Mirage started again.
"It just, what, fell over?"
"Jeremy," Mirage said loudly, beginning to think he should pull over.
"What?" the man snapped in return.
"Are you all right?" Mirage asked again.
"I was just nearly killed by an space-alien car-jaguar. I've never been better. Let's go try it again. Maybe next time you'll be luckier."
"I'm sorry," Mirage said again. "I honestly had no idea the third one even existed!"
"Well, why not? Aren't you supposed to be some sort of spy who knows all about the other guys?" Jeremy demanded, dropping all pretenses of actually driving by crossing his arms.
"I think," Mirage tried again, "that maybe the Corvette, the one we've thought to be Ravage all this time, may have been some sort of drone. It dropped shortly after I shot the one that attacked you."
"That was because of you?" He nearly shouted the question. "What did you do?"
"I shot him in the mouth," Mirage answered. "When he went to grab you."
"You nearly hit me," Jeremy accused.
"Jeremy, I'm going to be completely honest with you. You can yell as much as you want about it, but," Mirage said, voice low, "if you hadn't ducked and I'd hit you instead of Ravage, I'd have done you a favor. The energy blast would have killed you instantly. Ravage is ... nasty. He'd have left you alive as long as possible."
Jeremy fell silent again, absorbing that.
"You do know you just had the perfect opportunity to get rid of me back there," he finally said, almost questioningly. He paused, then continued, and Mirage was surprised at the relief he felt as the man's tone returned to the one he'd become accustomed to. "What happened? You didn't go and have a change of heart all of a sudden, did you?"
"It wouldn't have been right," Mirage said. "And I'm aware that's a weak excuse, but you being annoying doesn't give the Decepticons the right to kill you."
"Saving me for yourself, then," Jeremy hummed thoughtfully. "All right, that's fair. Now, how am I going to explain this mess on me?"
Mirage scanned him again and finally noticed his palms, scraped and bleeding from too many collisions with the rough paving of the lot. No wonder the man's grip had felt a bit odd. Mirage scolded himself for not noticing sooner and pulled off to the side. "Get out and check the... boot."
Jeremy did as instructed and pulled out a first aid kit. "Where did you pull this from?"
"Our medic insists we all carry one, in case we ever found ourselves in a situation with a wounded human. I've been carrying it around the entire time."
"I never saw it," Jeremy accused.
"It's been packed away," Mirage explained. "It would only have taken up unnecessary room otherwise."
"Why didn't you ever volunteer to carry things like that when I needed you to?" Jeremy groused as he got back in and Mirage started off again.
"I'm not sure if it'll have everything," Mirage said. "It should at least have enough to get the worst off, though. And why would I do something like that when it would deprive you of the joy of complaining about my limited space?"
"Right. Very considerate of you, that," Jeremy said, then focused on trying to clean the grit out of his wounds.
*
Despite Jeremy's insistence that he was fine and the way Rumble had fled, Mirage didn't offline for weeks after, running constant scans to make sure the area was secure.
*
"Good news for you!" Jeremy called as he approached.
"You're not going to make me guess, are you?" Mirage asked.
"No," Jeremy said firmly. "I am going to America."
"What?" Mirage rocked on his wheels. "When? Where?"
"A few days. We're going to Florida to shoot for an episode."
"For how long?"
"Don't know. Not very. But, listen, since I'm not going to be here -"
"No," Mirage interrupted.
"'No'?" Jeremy repeated surprised
"I - No, I mean," Mirage rumbled, frustrated. "Jeremy, would you do me a favor?"
"That depends," he answered. "Is it going to get me shot at?"
"It shouldn't."
"Then I'll give you a definite maybe."
Mirage took that as an affirmative. "When you go, could I give you something? You'd need to keep it on your person at all times. It's just a little chip, but -"
"You're not going to try and control my mind, are you?" Jeremy joked, leaning against the door.
"Blast. How did you guess?" Mirage deadpanned. "No, it's a transmitter. It'll give off a signal that the Autobots will be able to pick up on, and -"
"And so will the Decepticons, who will come running to take another shot at me. No."
"No," Mirage reassured him. "I'll set it special. Only one of us will even be checking for something like it."
"If it's that specific, how do you know it's going to work?"
"Nothing gets past him. Look, this could be my best chance to contact them, Jeremy," Mirage pressed.
The man frowned, as if considering. "All right, fine," he finally conceded. "But only if you're sure it won't cause any problems."
"I promise," Mirage swore. "If anything happens to you, it'll be entirely because of your own idiocy."
Jeremy scoffed at that.
When he left, Mirage sent him with a small transmitter and prayed that Red Alert hadn't been incapacitated.
*
Considering the effort he had put into making sure the transmitter would be as inconspicuous as possible, Mirage was surprised when Jeremy described his trip.
"I got shot at."
"How did you get away?" he asked, shocked. It wasn't like the Decepticons to just break off pursuit, and he doubted the team would have been able to scare them off.
Jeremy laughed then. "It wasn't your Deception-bots-"
"Decepticons," Mirage corrected automatically.
"Whatever," Jeremy dismissed. "And we weren't actually shot at. We were chased a bit, though."
"Chased by who, then? Other humans?" Mirage considered that a moment. "Well, I guess I can't blame them for wanting to kill you."
"Oh, very funny. I didn't see any signs of talking cars, by the way."
"That might be a good sign, actually," Mirage said. "It means they either got the entire message or none of it."
"How will you know which?" Jeremy asked as they raced along.
"It's very simple," Mirage told him. "If they show up, they got it. If I end up living here for the rest of time, they didn't."
*
He was moving a bit awkwardly, Mirage noted. Nervously, almost. What could possibly be bringing that on? He popped his driver's side door open.
Jeremy quickly ducked inside and grabbed the wheel. "There's a Jeep out there," he hissed.
"That's ... nice?"
"Why is there a Jeep out there? It's staring at me."
"I don't know. Perhaps its owner left it there." Mirage paused as the second comment registered. "Wait, it is? How can you tell?"
"I just know! It's like when you stare, only ... different." He frowned at his wording. "I just know."
"It's not yellow, is it?" Mirage asked, worried. Swindle alone wouldn't be too much trouble, but if he'd brought company...
"No. Should it be? No," he repeated. "It's green."
"Green? That's Hound!" Mirage revved his engine and started to move, but Jeremy pressed the brakes. It didn't really affect anything, but it delivered a message.
"How stupid are you? You can't just go out and have a conversation in the middle of the day! And what kind of name is 'Hound,' anyway?"
"He's our scout. He's probably looking for me," Mirage said impatiently, then sighed. "But you're right - and don't you dare let that go to your head."
"Why would I let it go to my head? I'm always right, and you know that," Jeremy scoffed. "So what do we do?"
"You'll have to go over and make sure it's really him. No one will think it strange to see you talking to a vehicle, after all."
"I don't talk to every car. I don't even talk to most of them! I talk about them, and there's a significant difference."
"Then pretend to make a call or something, I don't care!" Mirage opened his door back up. "Just get out there. And shout if it tries to kill you."
"I think I could've figured that one out for myself," Jeremy muttered darkly as he left.
*
The Jeep was still there, unsurprisingly. Jeremy glared at it as he approached. It was, he concluded, definitely watching him. After being around Mirage for so long, he'd started picking up on the slight unnatural shifts that resulted as his movements were tracked. He couldn't describe the subtle signs; he just knew they were there.
Just within arm's reach of the vehicle, he stopped, pulled out his mobile, and, flipping it open, pretended to answer.
"Hello?" he asked, staring at the Jeep. It didn't give any indication of having heard him.
"Sorry, can't hear you. One moment," he said and, boldly and perhaps a bit stupidly, closed the short distance and proceeded to lean against the side of the Jeep. "Hello, yes... Hound, was it?"
The metal beneath him shifted slightly.
"Mirage said I should come over and talk to you. He hasn't ever got the best ideas, of course, but I figured this was better than letting him make an idiot of himself."
The receiver crackled a bit and Jeremy jumped as a voice suddenly came out of it. "Hello. I see you already know my name, but who are you?"
"What- ? How are you doing that?" He pulled the phone away from his ear in surprise and blinked at it.
The Jeep rumbled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Hound apologized, speaking directly this time. "I wasn't sure how you expected me to reply."
"Ah," Jeremy said, feeling a bit foolish.
The green vehicle sat quiet again. Was it waiting for something?
"I suppose you're here about Mirage, then," Jeremy started again after several moments of awkward silence.
"Yes, we've been looking for him," Hound said. "He's actually here?"
"No," Jeremy replied. "I made that name up and guessed yours."
"That really was a stupid question, wasn't it?" The car shifted again, possibly in embarrassment. "That's a relief, though. We've been looking all over."
"What do you mean, 'we'?" Jeremy asked. There weren't any other vehicles around, or at least none that he could see. Hadn't Mirage said he was the only one who could turn invisible?
"I came here with someone else - Jazz. He's on his way now," Hound clarified.
"What, here?"
"Is that a problem?"
"You can't all just show up here! What if people see you? They might think I bought you or something. Isn't Jazz a Porsche?"
"Not anymore," Hound told him, though Jeremy thought he sounded a bit puzzled.
"That's not what Mirage said," he accused.
"Jazz scanned a Mazda a while ago. Mirage must not have told you the whole story."
"What model?" Jeremy asked reflexively, making a note to ask Mirage about that.
"He's a white RX8," Hound said.
"Really. How's he handle wet roads?"
"I don't know," Hound said. "I never thought to ask. I've never heard him complain. Why?"
"Just wondering," Jeremy said dismissively. He cocked his head. "I'd ask you to come in, but I don't think that quite works with vehicles."
"It's not a problem," Hound assured him. "Though maybe when Jazz arrives we should all go someplace where there won't be other humans around."
A quiet rumbling behind him made Jeremy turn around. There wasn't anything there, but...
"I thought you were going to stay out of sight," he said.
Hound shifted again and was probably about to ask what that was supposed to mean when Mirage shot back, "I am out of sight. Hound! Is that really you?"
"Mirage!" the Jeep returned. "It's good to, uh... hear you again, anyway."
The two suddenly fell silent.
After several minutes, Jeremy began to wonder if something had happened, and was considering asking when a third car drove up. It hesitated a moment, then confidently stopped next to Hound.
"Hey, what's up?" it asked.
Mirage suddenly deactivated his field, causing Jeremy to jump in surprise. "What is going on?" he demanded.
"Oh, sorry," Mirage said. "We were talking. Here, this is Hound, though you've talked to him already. The Mazda is Jazz. This is Jeremy Clarkson. He... well, I guess you know that story if you're here."
The Mazda laughed. "And what a story! Mirage, how do you manage to get into these situations?"
"This has happened before?" Jeremy asked, stunned.
"No," Mirage and Jazz both responded. Jazz continued, "But he attracts almost as many unlikely scenarios as I do, and that's saying something."
"Should we really be sitting out here talking like this?" Hound asked.
"No," Jeremy said firmly. "No, we shouldn't. Let me in, Mirage. I know where we can go."
*
Several hours later, many of them consisting of the two new arrivals informing himself and Mirage on what they had planned, Jeremy looked up at the three massive robots standing nearby and said suddenly, "So this is what the world looks like to Hammond."
Mirage choked back a laugh and the other two, unsurprisingly, looked confused. "I'll explain that later," Mirage promised.
*
"So you're both all set, then?" Jazz asked, crouched down in a vain attempt to not completely tower over the only human present.
Jeremy and Mirage both nodded.
"Say it back for me," he prompted.
"No," Jeremy said.
Mirage shifted and Jazz looked at him expectantly. "Fine," Mirage grumbled. "You and Hound will bring the Ford GT you constructed back at the Ark, Hound will cover the area with a hologram so we can move it in unseen, and then we'll drive off with me hiding until we're far enough away that no one will be surprised by the presence of two extremely uncommon cars."
"Great!" Jazz grinned, and Jeremy suspected he only asked for the recap to be annoying.
"You know," Mirage said, "it's really unnecessary, all this extra caution. I think people would be more surprised if they didn't see him surrounded by strange cars."
Hound shifted. "Maybe so, but you know how Prowl and Red Alert can be about regulations."
"No, I don't," Jeremy said, mostly because he felt he'd been left out of the majority of the conversation than out of any real need to remind them that he didn't know who they were talking about.
"I did tell you about them some," Mirage whispered. "Prowl is the one who - "
"Okay!" Jazz said cheerfully, interrupting, as he stood and clapped his hands once. "See ya in three days, then!"
*
"If it gives me half as many problems as you have, I'm going to find you and kill you," Jeremy threatened.
Mirage seemed unperturbed. "Well, you could always sell it and get that Lamborghini you liked. I've heard that they're nice cars from a few individuals who'd know."
"Ignoring that you seem to have just implied that I don't know much of anything about Lamborghinis for now, what, dare I ask, is that supposed to mean?"
"... They turned into them."
Jeremy straightened a bit. "Are you trying to set me up to house another one of you?"
"No, I wouldn't inflict that on anyone," Mirage muttered, then continued in his normal range, "They all reformatted recently, anyway."
Jeremy started to reply, but the two cars from three days prior drove up and Mirage shifted on his wheels. "Your friends are here," he said instead.
"I can see that."
"I'm not going to miss you," Jeremy stated suddenly, leaning over to rest his elbow on Mirage's roof.
"I wasn't worried," Mirage informed him.
They stood in silence for a moment, then Mirage revved his engine. "You'd best move, unless you want to get hit."
"Right," Jeremy agreed, and backed away a bit.
"That should be fine," Mirage said, and clicked his radio to tell Jazz and Hound they were ready. As an afterthought, he warned, "This might be a bit weird."
"It gets weirder than talking robot cars from space invading my property?" Jeremy asked, then frowned as the unmistakable sound of Mirage transforming was countered by the GT remaining unmoving in front of him. "Now how does that work?"
"Hound's holograms. We explained this, but you didn't believe it," Mirage replied from somewhere above.
Nothing appeared to happen, but then after a few minutes, Mirage spoke up again, sounding further away than he had before. "You're all set." Then the sound came again as, Jeremy presumed, Mirage folded back into a vehicle somewhere on the road.
The Jeep started to drive off, but the Mazda remained in place. Jeremy squinted at it curiously. It flashed its lights a few times, and finally edged a bit closer.
"What?" He asked, walking over to it.
"I'm not sure Mirage told you, but we're gonna be watching you for a while, just to make sure no Decepticons get any ideas."
No, Mirage hadn't mentioned that. "Right," Jeremy said, anyway. "That all?"
"Guess so," the car, no, Jazz, said, then lowered his voice a bit. "And, hey, thanks for helpin' him out."
Jeremy snorted and crossed his arms, not sure how to respond to that. Jazz flashed his lights again, then pulled out and followed after the Jeep.
After they'd driven out of sight, Jeremy examined the vehicle before him. It looked exactly the same. He pulled the driver's door open and leaned inside, looking around.
"Well, car. Guess it's just you and me now," he muttered.
No response, of course. Jeremy frowned at it.
Not even a month later, he sold it and ordered a Gallardo Spyder.
- END -
Edit I should've done quite a while ago...
There are other stories (all one-shots) related to this. In order of writing, they are: Sympathy, Prodding, On Names, and "With A Chance of Rain".