His eyes snapped open in the darkened room. A split second later he rose from the bed and strode purposefully across to the hall. Reaching up, he unlatched the trap door in the ceiling and felt around inside the small crawl space. As it had so many times before, the wad of cloth and armor came tumbling out into his waiting arms.

Knowing somehow that time was limited, he dressed quickly and left, seeking out his vehicle down the street not far from the apartment complex. He disarmed the force field and got in.

"Good evening, Father Time." The robotic voice greeted him. "Where to, sir?"

"Head toward Manhattan Beach at a casual speed, but be prepared to change directions at any moment."

"As you wish, sir. Would you enjoy some atmosphere music as we travel?"

"Have I ever asked for music while traveling?"

"No, sir."

"Then what makes you think I would desire any now?"

"I just thought you might enjoy a change of... atmosphere, sir."

"Your purpose is to provide transportation. Not to offer D.J. services."

"Yes, sir. To Manhattan Beach, then."

The engine purred to life and they pulled out and away from the small, covered garage. He pulled down the little monitor screen and keyboard. He was searching for something. Someone new required his assistance in dying and he needed to locate them and figure out the best way to eliminate them. He remembered the last one. This one was even worse.

For a moment he closed his eyes and allowed the memories of his prey to run through his mind. They were horrific. Something he knew but was unable to feel. His purpose was to rid the world of such evil, not to be appalled by it.

The images came one after another. Not so much images as experiences. Memories. Not his own, but those of the person he would hunt. They were downloading into his conscious awareness. 

There were countless rapes. Torture. Murders mostly carried out by someone else, but a few had been committed by his own hands. An abundance of illegal business activity including theft, money laundering, and prostitution.

Many women were abused at this man's hands. A few of which seemed to enjoy it, but for most of them, it was against their will. Some were killed. Others submitted before that happened and surrendered to being prostituted out. 

Father Time saw the dark mistress of his last victim with this man. They were connected, he realized. The politician he had killed was being funded in abundance by his new target. In the future, he only saw more of the same as in the past, but saw it getting worse. More twisted as he grows older. More evil as anger sets in due to his inability to fight old age and his deteriorating looks and health. He takes it out on others. Mostly women. In the future there are children, as well. Little girls as young as 7 and 8. In the very late years there are boys, too. He has them kidnapped or bought on the human trafficking market. He abuses them and tortures them until there is nothing but a shell left. Then, without a second thought, he has them disposed of. He never gets caught. He never has to pay.

Father Time's eyes snap open. He proceeds to click away on the keyboard, bringing up an image of Harley Chase. His eyes narrow behind the mask that covers his face. His teeth clench. Energy crackles from the hourglass insignia on his chest. 

"Your clock is ticking, Mr. Chase," he growls. His heart rate speeds up with anticipation and the car surges forward.

"We will need to make a stop at Chevy's Body Shop," he commands as he checks the area and then pulls the lever to cloak the car.

"A bit of entertainment for you this evening, sir?"

He stares at the dash board. After blinking once or twice his brows furrow. Was the car developing a sense of humor? He didn't even have a sense of humor. How on earth could his vehicle be developing one?

"Has someone been tinkering with your circuitry, car?"

"Of course not, sir. You would be the first to know if anyone had so much as approached my circuitry. However, I do regularly download updates into my system. It works out the kinks and bugs."

"Perhaps you should uninstall the most recent update, then."

"If you require it, sir. Although, I must say I feel as though I run much more smoothly since the last one. The weapons system had a few glitches that were patched with the most recent update. I do know that, but... if you would prefer..."

"Never mind! Just be quiet and head to the club, Jeeves!"

There was a moment of silence before, "Jeeves, sir? I believe that's a butler name. I am a car."

"You didn't seem to care about a name before. What should I call you?"

"Oh, I don't know... Hotrod, perhaps?"

"Why am I negotiating names for my car, with my car?" He asked himself out loud, not sure how this situation had developed. He wasn't used to conversing with anyone, much less his own vehicle. It was giving him the sensation of confusion and... Was that the beginning of a migraine?

They traveled in silence for a few minutes and his mind drifted back to the target at hand. He began formulating a plan for extracting the information he needed from the people at the club. He would have no problems with getting in unnoticed. He was capable of erasing people's memories for 10 minute increments by rewinding time for just them by that much, and moving out of their line of vision before restarting it. It was very much like having the ability to render himself invisible. 

"Sideswipe!!" The car's excited, albeit robotic, voice broke into his thoughts suddenly.

"What the..?"

"You might consider calling me Sideswipe, sir. He is an Autobot from the Transformers movies. They are movies about vehicles that transform into robots and..."

"I am NOT calling you 'Sideswipe', car! Think of something else."

"How about Jazz?"

"No."

"Iron Hide?"

"No."

*Sigh* "Ratchet?"

"Come on!"

"I've got it! I know what it is. You may not say no to this one. 'Optimus'. My name is 'Optimus'. Actually 'Optimus Prime', but you may call me 'Optimus' for short. Or just 'Prime'............. whichever you are comfortable with........................ Completely up to you."

Father Time closed his eyes. Yes. It was definitely a migraine that he was developing. The idea that he was naming his car was beyond his logical mindset and that the car had an opinion as to what its name should be? It seemed to have more personality than he was capable of himself. It didn't sit well with him.

"Sir?"

"I am not calling you Optimus Prime. I will call you 'Orion'. That is final. Now I must formulate my plan, so if you wouldn't mind?"

"Yes, sir."

Was that disappointment he heard coming through in the car's tone? How was that even possible? Where did these upgrades come from, anyways? He realized he didn't know as much about his vehicle as he should. For the first time in his known existence, Father Time had an interest in something other than his mission and prey. He wanted to find out more about the car. He didn't realize or acknowledge it, but the small change, a minor computer upgrade that somehow had brought his vehicle to life, seemed to cause the beginning of a change in him. It seemed to be bringing him to life, as well.

(A/N: PLEASE do NOT forget to VOTE. I appreciate it much. Also, please let me know what you think via comments. If anything seems confusing, do tell, and I will re-word it.)