Mine! My Spark! part 1

The owner of the dump turned out to be a skinny, lanky man named Nail. That's how he introduced himself. When asked about a cheap car, he phlegmatically waved his hand, offering to walk through his patrimony in search of treasure. As it turned out, some of the exhibits have been here for years, maybe I'll find something... if they didn't steal the spare parts before me. But I was looking for a CAR that would then leave on its own. Unfortunately, serviceable cars were not suitable for me: there was no money to buy them.

I wasn't happy about the dump: what stood on the common area is hardly capable of coming to life even in my hands. In most cases, all that remained of the machines were completely stripped skeletons of varying degrees of rust, stacked one on top of the other. Some were already compressed and towered in uneven grotesque piles, which were supported by powerful metal beams dug into the sun-scorched earth. Some of the cars still have their interior trim and some interior elements, some even have seats, but the engines and all more or less useful spare parts have been removed for a long time.

Tos and Der got out from behind the bent and pressed body of the pickup truck. Surrounding me, the little ones chattered, jumped from their overwhelming feelings, pointing somewhere deep into the dump. They found something. Something so important that they could barely describe it coherently from their bursting emotions.

"Tama!!!" Tos screamed, choking with incomprehensible delight. "Tama!!!"

Der was nodding actively and hopping impatiently on its short legs, buzzing and whistling. Okay, let's see what these parasites have found: usually, small skeptics are not mistaken in their assessment of technology.

I couldn't get to this "tama" quickly, because I couldn't get through where the small pests were seeping in, so I had to go around. But finally, I saw an overturned skateboard abandoned, piles of cars cut and pressed into pancakes, and a hefty armored military tractor standing almost at the press, which had already been used for sawing.

Old. It was almost completely rusted through, with a crumpled and twisted back and cabin, as if the transformers had dented and kicked it before they put it on the saw. There was an abandoned welding machine lying nearby, which had already been dragged towards me by two parasites.

"Put it down! I still don't have enough money to pay for your damaged device!"

The little girl exchanged glances, quickly turned the device around and dragged it away, after which she returned to the huge military vehicle.

"Tuta!" the former toaster was bouncing around a huge flat tire.

"And what is "tuta"?" I grumbled, looking at the powerful and definitely dead tractor. Something strange happened: Der respectfully stroked the wheel and chattered with delight.

Strange. They didn't react that way even to brand-new technology.

"This junk?" I asked skeptically.

The little thing was already filled with indignation from such neglect, jumping up on the spot, stroking the pieces of the tire, as if apologizing to the silent giant for my words.

A really strange reaction. Such sincere adoration and admiration, downright reverence for the dead tractor. I walked around the rusting monster that had been thrown into the landfill, already mentally preparing for the fact that I would have to force the Nail to give me this rusty junk.

"Okay, okay, don't freak out." I muttered.

The military tractor looked... terrifying. Torn tires, smashed, partially torn out headlights, broken windows of a cabin crushed by some titanic impact, doors already cut off lying nearby, a rusted, peeling, partially shattered body... A sad sight.

"Tuta!" again, the small disepticon drawled wistfully, managing to climb onto the hood and gently feeling the twisted metal.

"Yes, I see it. Tuta... full of achtung." The small ones jumped on the spot, and then, suddenly, they abruptly shrank, having managed to drag the skate after them: the owner of the dump with two workers taxied out from behind a pile of scrap.

"Oh, I found our main exhibit." Nail grunted as he approached the tractor.

"It's hard not to notice him: a colorful car." I replied neutrally.

"Colorful." the Nail nodded. "But it's junk. Even the engine was eaten by rust: porridge under the hood."

"And how did you get it?"

"Yes, they found it in the desert. They were tired of dragging this colossus. We thought we'd find something valuable, but here..." He shook his head. "When they opened the hood, they found only a rusted mess inside."

"It's hard to disassemble, it's impossible to move without a tractor." One of the mechanics, a red-haired guy, spat irritably. "While the doors were being cut down, they got dirty."

The man shook his head.

"They dragged me in vain. Only the fuel was burned."

Is this really my chance? If they're so disappointed with the car, maybe they'll give me this tractor. He's bothering them anyway!

"Do you need it?" I asked cautiously.

The men laughed.

"Baby, I'd throw this stuff away, it just takes up space."

"Is it completely rubbish?" I asked despondently.

The redhead nodded, the Nail spat and confirmed:

"Full."

I sighed. Little red eyes stared at me pleadingly from under the flattened cars. The little ones won't forgive me if I leave this tractor in a landfill.

"And if the engine is changed?"

"It makes no sense: his bridge is broken. It won't go anyway, but to repair it..." The Nail spread his hands. "It's easier and cheaper to buy a new one. It beat him well: it only holds the shape, everything inside is broken."

That's it, that's it! Well, what if...

I really wanted to get this tractor! My hands are shaking! This desire arose latently, imperceptibly, quickly gaining strength and firm confidence.: This is it. Exactly what I was looking for. I NEED this tractor! There was something about him... something that made my body shudder. Some kind of vaguely familiar hidden power, a feeling of something like that... I don't even know what to call it. Recognition, or what? This wrecked tractor stood out to my perception, as if a blinding bright ray had focused on it. Just the thought that I might NOT GET it made me feel unhappy. And the longer I was near the tractor, the more clearly this feeling appeared, literally screaming: "MINE!".

The Nail in my throwing noticed that I had succumbed to this strange Call so much that I lost control of myself, staring longingly at the wrecked car as if it were the most valuable thing in the universe. Moreover, the value is definitely MINE!

"Forget about that car, baby. I'm sorry for her, but..." he spread his hands. "It's just for cutting."

"And if..." I faltered. "And if... well..."

The mechanic chuckled.

"If you want, take it." the owner of the dump graciously waved. "It's more expensive to cut it than to just throw it away: it's too strong, it's an infection. There is more fuss than profit. I can even take you out into the desert. People don't drive here very often, so you'll have a couple of days to bring a tractor and take it away. But then you'll have to pay for our fuel."

My hundred...

"Oh, come on." I took out the bill, without regret giving the last money into the hands of the Nail. "How far can you take it?"

He thought about it, automatically folding the table and putting it in his pocket.

"There's an old gas station nearby." Finally, he said. "It's been abandoned for ten years now, but there's a carport, so you can park the car. If you want, we can take you there. And it's not far from the trailer park: you can walk for half a day if something happens."

I almost jumped for joy.

"I want to! Can you take my trailer there? Because my Ford is still under repair, and I'm constantly running back and forth.... He's at a trailer park ten miles away."

"We'll give you a ride, why not."

Seeing my impatience, the Nail was surprised:

"Now?"

"Please!" I whined, making a plaintive face.

The guy chuckled, but... didn't object. While his workers were starting their tractor, he waved his hand at me, inviting me to follow him.

"While they bring this junk to the gas station, let's go, I'll drop off your trailer."

I jumped after the Nail, and soon we were driving an old pickup truck to the parking lot, where, after saying goodbye to the good-natured Mark, we picked up Trell and drove along the highway to a distant abandoned gas station.

As soon as the tractor disappeared from sight, my brain turned on and started working normally, and I almost bit my elbow and ass at the same time when it dawned on me what I had done. I bought a battered military tractor with my last money! A tractor that has a 99.9% chance of never coming to life! And all because, for some reason, I couldn't figure out what made me jump, like Cassie over a colorful candy wrapper!

However, I did not play back. I bought and bought. I used to trust my gut: too often it saved me, pulling me out from under the raids of Gravediggers, to go against such a powerful surge for just a hundred bucks. If I'm so twisted out of the blue, then there must be a reason for that!

I must say that I was a little nervous: after all, I didn't know the Nail and its mechanics, and trust hadn't worked out too well for me in recent years. But I was worried in vain: the guy really brought me to an abandoned parking lot and even waited with me until an old tractor appeared, barely dragging my dubious purchase.

A military tractor was rolled under a dilapidated canopy, and the tow rope was unhooked. The Nail, already getting into the car, said:

"Well, come on, baby. If anything, contact us. Just look, be careful here: the place is abandoned, you never know what."

"Thank you." I sincerely thanked him.

The men said goodbye to me cordially and drove away, raising columns of dust, and I ran to my future car, near which the former toaster and blender were already jumping with wild excitement.

And it doesn't matter that the tractor is rusty and broken! This is MY tractor!

And I'll figure out how to revive him!

"Tuta!" Tos deftly climbed into the cabin, waving his paws invitingly.

The short-legged Der was squeaking while standing downstairs: he was too clumsy and couldn't get into the car on his own.

Is that what they're trying so hard to show me?

Having hooked up the former blender, I climbed into a spacious but very dirty cabin, which had long since parted with its seats ... well, everything that could be removed. Even the mounting points were gone, along with the torn-out metal of the floor, as if these seats had been torn out with meat. But the steering wheel remained intact: an excited Tos hung on it and stroked... the emblem with a predatory angular face, which appeared on the scratched metal after being touched by a little brat.

I froze, as if frozen, staring at this clear, intense purple emblem. A familiar logo. To the point of pain, to the point of tears, to the smallest tilt of rigid predatory straight lines... A huge military tractor, killed to death, turned out to be a disepticon. Finally and irrevocably... dead.