It had been two and a half years since the events of Mission City.  While the majority of Earth’s population were going about their normal business-for the Cybertronians hidden among them and their allies-life was hectic.  The discovery of the hidden colony had thrown things out of order, along with the subsequent ceasefire between the Autobots and the Decepticons.

Nightshade-Megatron’s former mate-had seized the reins of power among the Decepticons.  Now the Lady High Protector, she had met with Optimus and negotiated for a somewhat stable ceasefire-along with a small Decepticon force on Earth.  It had turned out that a small ‘Con base had been established on the island of Montserrat, under her command.  But seeing as how neither faction really wanted to re-engage in hostilities (and for the Autobots, it was a big help that Nightshade had Soundwave and to their shock, a resurrected Starscream!) supporting her.  However many Decepticons were not supportive of Nightshade, and so the femme had her hands full squashing any insurgency that popped up.  This left Optimus to negotiate on her behalf also to the human governments as best as he could, but the Autobots had their own problems.

The previous U.S. administration had all but turned hostile to the Autobots- once the Cybertronaians had made it absolutely clear that while they were willing to share scientific knowledge, nothing would be given on warfare.  Compounding the problem was the arrival-in bits and pieces-of what remained of the Autobot army, and civilians from the colony.  Autobot City just simply wasn’t big enough…  Thankfully, the British government had voiced a solution at a UN summit.  They were in possession of a deserted island in the Indian Ocean, called Diego Garcia.  If Autobot City could be turned into an energy collection and storage facility-they didn’t mind the Cybertronians taking possession of it and using it for their own purposes.  Shortly afterward, news came that Keller had exerted his considerable influence-and with Lennox’s request- kowtowed the administration into creating a special military force of humans who would train and work with the Autobots.  Other countries-in particular the United Kingdom, had voiced their interest in offering support, and so NEST was born.  In under six months the island was fit for Cybertronian habituation, now it was the humans’ turn to settle in.

With a little support from their giant allies…

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Transport freighter Miska
Indian Ocean

“Oh man, he is pissed…”  Epps chuckled.  “Lennox, you’re a dead man.”  This statement caused more snickers and choked laughter among the group.   The newly promoted Major Lennox grinned, his teeth flashing white.  He was clad in Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt, looking nothing like the commander he was when on duty.  His fellow friends and NEST co-workers were similarly garbed-after all, they were off duty.  One did not move personal items and effects in full combat gear when off duty.

Which was the beginning of the current situation.  Lennox bit back another smile, glancing over his shoulder.
“Now you can’t be mad, Ironhide.”  He began, turning around.  A loud roar of an engine was his response, and the human bit back an even bigger grin. “It was a proper bet. I won, you lost.”  Another roar-that sent everyone into gales of laughter.

Ironhide was well and truly pissed.  Heat literally radiated in visible waves off of him, and his smokestacks on occasion, were emitting small sparks of flame.  For the entire trip he had done nothing but growl and roar his engine, his Topkick form literally bristling.  This was the type of rage that only an explosion of a small planet on thermonuclear proportions (case in point, Kaiba-5) or raunchy, wake-your-neighbors-and-have-security-called-on-you sparksex with Chromia could soothe.    But seeing as how neither option was available-Chromia was on the other side of the freighter- Ironhide could do nothing but nurse his black temper, which was getting darker with every minute that passed.

And the reason for this rage?

The innocent, harmless-looking, Day-Glo orange and white trailer attached to Ironhide’s back bumper.  Scenic vistas were painted on both sides, and in black letters, was the modest proclamation…

U-Haul.

“Now, Ironhide-” A long and very loud blast of the Topkick’s horn sent Lennox and the others into gales of fresh laughter.