Chapter Text
[8:01 AM, Thursday, August 22nd, outskirts of St. Hillary, Oregon]
The sun’s rays were barely dusting over the horizon along the winding highway that snaked through the pine forests. The only sounds at this hour were the sleepy chirping of birds and the whistling wind ruffling the pine needles like someone ruffling a hand through their hair. Until the roar of a car engine crept in from the distance, then a yellow and black blur blew past the trees so fast a few close to the road bent over from the force. However, it wasn’t alone.
Close behind it, four tactical vehicles raced after the Chevrolet Camaro. Despite their lumbering frames, they were deceptively fast, keeping the racing car on its non-existent toes. Each one was branded with an insignia of two circles, a smaller one inside a larger one, with three sharp points extending from it. The letters N-E-S-T rested in between the bottom two points.
“This is a restricted area! You are trespassing AND speeding! Stop your vehicle at once!” the leader of them ordered via loudspeaker. The Camaro just adjusted its mirrors so that they reflected in them, though, strangely, its own driver was not reflected in them. In fact, it seemed the car had no driver at all.
The car bobbed and weaved around tight corners, taking advantage of its greater maneuverability compared to its pursuers. It flitted from lane to lane, trying to shake them off. Its speedometer was well into the red, but it did not let up. Neither did the tactical vehicles. All it could focus on was the road ahead, its pursuers, and the thought of escape. The wind rushing by mimicked the beat of its mechanical heart.
Eventually, the car shifted its focus and saw a brown shape nestled between a group of trees. Piles and piles of rusted cars and other scrap nestled in a yard surrounded by a fence. The sign outside it read St. Hillary Scrapyard.
“Bingo!” the car muttered, the elation clear in its voice. Taking a wild swerve inside, he nearly blew through the fence doors and crashed into a mountain of waste, but he turned just in time and spun a few times before coming to a stop. This moment of peace was short lived, however, when sirens blared in the distance.
Out of necessity and desperation, the Camaro began to shift, twist, and turn inhumanly, transforming into a metallic form that had a nonetheless human silhouette. He had yellow armor with black stripes, silver under armour, a helm with two horns curved to look like insect antennae, and blue optics flashing with fear. He looked around desperately, looking for an answer to his predicament.
“Gotta hide, gotta hide, gotta hide…” he fretted, wracking his helm for ideas. But out of the corner of his optic, he got one.
Behind one of the piles of scrap, he saw a beat up, scuffed, rusted Volkswagen Beetle, one that matched his paint perfectly if it wasn’t for the years of wear and tear. It wasn’t the most glamorous alternate mode, but it would work in a pinch.
Focusing his gaze on it, the robot opened his optics, where beams of light came from and traced the outline of the Beetle. Information processed in micro-seconds, and the robot’s armor shifted ever so slightly as his body contorted to fit the form and appearance of the vehicle. He looked himself over with a smile. “Not half bad.” The sirens and sounds of vehicles entering the junkyard pulled him from his thoughts. With a gulp and deep breath, he shifted into the car, backed into the shadows, and hid.
NEST vehicles poured inside the place like ants. From the front office, the owner of the junkyard scrambled out, demanding to know what the meaning of this intrusion was. One of the lead soldiers, an imposing man with closely-trimmed gray hair, a hardened expression, and a suit that obscured most of his limbs, just brushed him aside. “We have suspicions a fugitive is hiding out here, sir. We’ll be on our way once we apprehend him or determine he is not here.”
Soldiers armed with flashlights attached to assault rifles filed throughout the junkyard, scanning every nook and cranny for signs of the Camaro. They overturned bits of metal, riffled through small stacks of trash, and more importantly, kept their eyes peeled for any cars. The former Camaro-turned-Beetle held his breath as they passed by, praying that they somehow wouldn’t recognize him.
Luckily for him, even as they shined their flashlights on him, the soldiers seemed to think he was nothing more than an ordinary car, so they passed with little issue. Silently, the bot exhaled, though remained motionless as they still combed the scrapyard for any traces. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the soldiers filed back to their commander dejectedly.
“No sign of him, boss.” One replied as if expecting to get throttled. The commander just sighed in frustration. “He must have taken a shortcut or gone down a side road.” He addressed his troops briskly. “Pack it up. We’ll keep pursuing along the main road. He couldn’t have gone far.” He stepped rudely past the owner as he headed back to his armored vehicle with a scowl, making him step back even though he wanted to retort rudely.
Instead, he asked simply, “What’s the big deal? Why are you guys here?”
The commander, as he got in the vehicle, just glared, as if he’d been asked this question many times. “St. Hillary has a wealth of potential, sir. And it’s NEST's job to safeguard and encourage it. Criminal misconduct such as this cannot be tolerated any more.” And with that, he turned the key to the ignition, started the engine, and backed out of the entrance to the junkyard. The other vehicles followed suit, leaving the owner alone. He watched them leave, then looked at his space confusedly, before shrugging his shoulders and heading back inside.
The Beetle bounced up and down upon seeing the coast was clear. “Woo! That was a close one.” He looked around the hills of scrap metal that surrounded him, various knicknacks and corroded bits that had seen better days. They formed a protective barrier around the outside world, where even at his full size, he wouldn’t be easily seen. However, he didn’t want to take any chances, so he shifted back into the shadows. “I’ll just rest here for a bit. Then, I’ll be on the road again.” He yawned before simmering back down and going motionless. He lightly snored for a few moments before drifting completely into a peaceful slumber.
But his peace was not meant to last.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard footsteps approaching. He froze, tried to remain as still as possible, and adjusted his optical sensors. They registered two pairs of feet walking toward him. Then, he heard the voices.
“Thanks for letting me come early, Spike.” One of them said gratefully.
“Don’t mention it.” The other replied, and the Beetle recognized it as the voice of the owner from earlier. “Least I can do for a hometown hero.”
“I’m no hero, Spike, just doing my job.” The Beetle shifted its gaze up to get a good look at the new arrival. He was tall, built from a lifetime of hard work, with spiky red hair, green eyes and plenty of freckles. He wore a red and black flannel, work jeans, and leather boots. “So, I’m here because I’m wondering if you’ve gotten any decent cars in. Garth recently passed his driving test, and I figured he and his friends could fix up a ride.”
Spike looked considerate, scanning around the junkyard before his eyes caught on the Beetle. “Well, we just got this Volkswagen recently.” He led him over to it, as the bot in disguise held his breath, anticipating what their next move would be. “Needs some TLC, but otherwise should run well enough to get it out of here.”
The other man stepped close to its fender, leaning down to inspect it. There was noticeable wear on the paint, scuffs and dents, and who knew what else underneath, but all signs indicated Spike was telling the truth. Not that he had any reason to lie to the so-called “hometown hero” of St. Hillary. The Beetle, for his part, felt like he was being inspected, like a sci-fi movie where human captives would be inspected by aliens, only the reverse.
He straightened back up with a smile, turning to Spike. “I’ll take it. He’s gonna love it.”
Spike smiled, shaking his hand warmly. “Pleasure doing business with ya, Tim.”
The Beetle felt his tank sink as he wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into.
…
[10:30 AM, Mt. Saint Hillary]
Just outside the town, a mountain-like formation towered over it, blocking the sun completely depending on the time of day. Trees lined along its rocky crags and only the faintest semblances of a dirt road wound up in a corkscrew motion. At its peak, the faintest dusting of snow rested like powdered sugar on top of a cake.
A smaller NEST-branded field vehicle clamored along the trail up and around to around halfway up along one of the natural overlooks, where there was a clearing among the trees. Two men in branded surveyors gear got out, lugging cameras, measuring tools, and various other equipment.
“This the place?” the shorter one asked the taller, more muscular one.
He nodded before looking around. “Yep. Though, not gonna lie, still not sure why they wanted us to poke around here of all places.”
“Because,” the short one set out the camera in one swift motion with a wry smile. “This place is a popular tourist attraction that would earn the town loads of money if a proper road was developed through it. Make it more accessible to the masses.”
“I still don’t think we should be poking around a volcano,” the other replied, a hint of worry in his voice. “Who knows what we may find up here.”
Behind the trees, on top of what looked to be a peculiar rock formation shielding an open cave, a lens-like device jutted out towards the direction of the pair of voices. It caught them moving around, down to their internal heat signatures. It seemed to narrow like a pair of eyes in suspicion at them.
“Formerly active volcano, that is.” The first surveyor tightened the bolts holding the camera’s supports in place before standing up. “This thing hasn’t erupted in 40 years and shows no sign of doing so in the near future, according to the bosses.”
“Still doesn’t put me at ease,” the second replied, holding a scanner and doing what it couldn’t with his own eyes. They snagged suddenly on a strange marking in the dirt, which he bent down to investigate. They resembled tire tracks, but a strange symbol was marked between them, one resembling a mechanical face.
“Hey.” He gestured over to his coworker, who stepped to him curiously. “What do you make of these?”
He also crouched down to look at them, tilting his head in confusion. “Doesn’t look like any brand of tire I’ve ever seen. But they look relatively fresh.”
“Someone was here recently,” the other replied suspiciously, glancing from side to side. The only car there was their own, and the only company was the whistling wind. “Question is, who?”
All of a sudden, a set of speakers jutted out from behind the mountain’s rock. There was a screech of feedback that nearly caused the surveyors to jump right out of their pants, followed by what sounded like the voice of the legion, deep, ominous, and angry. “WHO DARES?! YOU DARE INTRUDE ON MY HOME?!??!”
The surveyors whirled around, trying desperately to locate the source of the noise. “What the hell was that?!” The small one spluttered, face white as a ghost.
“YOU ARE TRESPASSING!” It thundered. “LEAVE! NOW!”
“I don’t know,” the other replied, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as another harsh note blared from the speakers. “But I think we should do what it says!” Quick as a flash, they packed up their equipment as best as they could, scrambled into their car, started it up, turned it around in a 180 degree motion, and sped off back down the trail, leaving little trace of their presence.
Inside a cavernous space in the mountain, a pair of silhouettes watched the entire spectacle from behind a set of monitors embedded into the wall. They sat behind a long, large, alien-looking keyboard in hovering chairs. They cackled as they watched the surveyors leave before turning and high fiving each other.
“Hahaha, gottem!” One of them replied. She was a little over 10 feet tall, with a metallic silver, blue, white and red paint job and a black headset over her helm. Her bright yellow optics were hidden behind a light blue visor.
“Yeah, we got em REAL good!” The other laughed. He was smaller, nearly human size, with a red, yellow and grey paint job. What looked like a boombox’s chamber made up most of his chest. He, like his companion, had prominent audio fins on his helm.
They giggled for a few more seconds before a set of metallic thuds in the rhythm of footsteps approached from behind. A tall red, blue and silver mech regarded them seriously with his arms folded behind his back. “Jazz, Blaster, what is going on here?”
Both turned around in their chairs, keeping their relaxed demeanor. “Nothin’ much, Optimus, just scared off another group of surveyors. Nothin’ much.” Jazz did a two-digit salute in greeting before slinging an arm lazily over the back of her chair.
“Yeah! We scared them real good! Great test of the new speaker system.” Blaster stood up in his own seat, putting his servos on his hips.
Optimus gave them a small smile before becoming serious again. “Well, be sure to remain as covert as possible. We cannot let the human population discover our presence.”
“Aw, come on, Prime.” Another tall, muscular, scarlet and black, southern-accented mech, followed by a shorter femme with white, pink and red on her frame and a set of laser pistols holstered on her hips, joined them. “You’ve been sayin’ that for 40 Earth cycles and nothing bad has happened in that time. You gotta stop worrin’ so much.”
“In his defense, Ironhide, it’s not like these past 40 cycles have been worriless,” his companion replied wisely. “We still don’t know if the Decepticons have also awakened, and there’s also B-127 to consider. If Optimus says we can’t take any chances, we can’t take any chances.”
“Well, all your worrying is distracting.” A white, orange, and red mech with prominent sirens and electrocardiograms on his frame emerged from another room, wrench in hand, looking grumpy. “Can you try to do so a bit more quietly? I’m trying to work on this project in peace.”
“You mean your Energon pressure components, ay, Ratchet?” Another mech and femme joined, the former having a flame motif with magenta accents, the latter red and black with wings, a helm and facial markings resembling a geisha, and a sword hilt clipped at her belt. The mech folded his arms sassily. “Big concern for you, I’ve heard.”
Ratchet looked like he was considering throwing the wrench square at his helm. “When you get to be my age, Hot Rod, you’ll know what it’s like to worry about your Energon components. It’s not a pleasant time.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Hot Rod replied with a chuckle to his quieter friend, who looked like she was stifling a laugh along with everyone else minus Ratchet.
“The health of our lead medical officer aside,” Optimus regarded Ratchet kindly before turning to his group again, gesturing to the red and pink femmebot. “Arcee is correct. Even if the Decepticon population is offline and gone, we cannot risk discovery. The human population is a primitive species technological-wise by our standards, but they are a suspicious, intelligent one as well. They cannot be trusted.”
All of the robotic group listened closely. Only after Optimus finished did Hot Rod interject. “But Optimus, B-127’s been out there for all this time, alone! He could be in danger, alone, stuck somewhere! We have to go searching for him sooner or later.” He looked to his comrades, beseeching them with his optics for support. They looked at one another silently in consideration.
Optimus firmly cut off his subordinate with a wave of his servo. “I understand your concern, Hot Rod, but B-127 has had 40 cycles to return to us, if he even survived the circumstances of our awakening.” He looked melancholic at that last part before maintaining his composure. “We have no idea where he could be, nor do we have the means for an advanced search.”
“So just send us!” Hot Rod insisted as respectfully as he could while getting his point across. “We can go out, in disguise, and look for him! The humans would never know about us. We have to at least try!”
Optimus sighed and looked unconvinced. “B-127 is the least of our worries. We are in a strange new world with no way to return to our own, the Ark is in no condition as of now to even try. For all we know, we are the last of our kind. I will not lose anyone else to scenarios we could have prevented.” An age old pain crept into his voice.
The matter decided, the Autobots wordlessly looked at one another before dispersing. Jazz and Blaster turned back around to their monitors, Ratchet returned to his workshop, and Ironhide and Arcee headed back to train. Hot Rod and the femme beside him looked at one another before he stormed off to the door beyond the monitors, leading to the halls of the cavern.
“This isn’t right.” Hot Rod fumed through gritted dental plates as he punched at a nearby wall once the doors closed behind him and his friend. “Bee’s out there all alone going through who knows what and we’re under orders to stay here! Ugh, I wish I could knock some sense into Optimus!” She raised one of her painted optic ridges as Hot Rod realized the full implication of his sentence and sighed. “But I can’t. And I won’t, because he does have a point and I’m…well, me.” He groaned and hid his face in his servos. “I hate me sometimes.”
The femme just smiled in exasperation and kindness and patted him on his back gently. He looked up at her and perked up immediately, clapping her servo in appreciation. “Thanks for listening, Windblade.”
Windblade’s smile grew and her wings fluttered as he squared off his shoulders and headed off to another part of the ship, leaving her by herself. She watched him leave, then looked at herself in an almost disappointed fashion, despite having succeeded in making him feel better. Then she looked off at a distant door at the end of the hall and headed toward it, occasionally trailing her servo along its walls.. One had to keep themselves busy on this ship somehow.
…
[3:04 PM, St. Hillary High School, St. Hillary, Oregon]
Just beyond downtown St. Hillary rested a building framed by a parking lot on one side, a fenced-off meadow on the other. It was two stories all brick with multiple sets of glass windows lined throughout it. Concrete steps led a short distance up from the lot to the front entrance, which students were streaming out of after a long day of learning. They chatted among themselves, sprinted toward the buses, or headed down the steps to the car rider line. They were a diverse lot, with a wide variety of demographics and interests represented. A few NEST vehicles milled around but didn’t interfere, just watched in case of trouble.
One boy sat on the steps against the short brick wall that formed a barrier between them and the shrubs planted behind it. He had a slim build and black hair that swooped down over his right emerald eye. For clothing, he wore a grey, rhinestone-encrusted denim jacket over a navy blue sweater, black jeans, and navy and black sneakers. He had an artist tote as a backpack resting beside him as he sketched a Lovecraftian-esque with a charcoal pencil in a leather-bound sketchbook.
He looked up just as the doors opened up and a fresh crowd of students stepped out. At the center of it was a pair of arm-in-arm students: one was a boy tall and well built, with spiky auburn hair, brown eyes, a red, gold and grey varsity jacket over his upper body, a pair of grey pants, and red and yellow athletic shoes. The other, a girl, had dark caramel skin with various lighter patches, one encircling her right, dark blue eye, and black hair that faded to golden yellow, with a bun pinned to the top of her head. She had on a strapless yellow top with a bumblebee in the center of it over a black tank top, black leggings, a green sweatshirt tied over her waist, and black and yellow sneaker heels. They were both greeting various students as they headed out.
“Hey dude!”
“Nice outfit!”
“Lookin’ sharp!”
“Awesome hair!”
“Did you ace that test today?”
“Ayyyy, congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”
And various others along the way. The boy sketching smiled almost dreamily at them, if it wasn’t also tinged with a bit of wistfulness. He would have envied that level of confidence if this also wasn’t his two best friends he was looking at head down the steps.
The two spotted their friend along the steps and both their faces lit up. “Hey, Chance!” The girl waved as she unwound herself from her partner and practically skipped down the steps to him. She glanced at his sketchbook, then his face as she sat on the brick ledge. “Thought you might be out here.”
“Sorry we got caught up.” The other boy sat down on the step next to Chance and also glanced in his sketchbook, pointing to the in-progress monster. “Oooh, looking good.”
Chance barely resisted the urge to blush, both from the compliment and how close their hands were. “Thanks, Garth. And don’t feel bad. I just needed to get out of there ASAP.”
“Ha, I don’t blame ya.” Mandy gently and affectionately elbowed his shoulder. “I’m practically jumping out of my seat by the end of the day.”
“Unfortunately, we are the unofficial official SHHS welcome committee, which takes precedence,” Garth replied as he stretched and cracked his knuckles over his head. “But anyway, how’s about we figure out how we get out of here?” All three of them looked into the crowded car rider line, filled with kids heading to cars, parents lined along the driveway, horns honking, and a chorus of voices. They then all looked back to each other with overwhelmed expressions. “I’m open to taking suggestions,” he added sheepishly.
Mandy’s eyes scanned the entire lot before widening in recognition and gesturing for them to look at someone. “I think I got a decent one.”
The boys followed her gaze to one of the parking spaces, where an older man who bore a striking resemblance to Garth sat against the hood of a beat up-looking Volkswagen Beetle. Upon seeing them, he stood up fully and waved at them, Garth returning the gesture. He smiled at Mandy lovingly. “I think it’s a good one, Mana.” She giggled as they and Chance descended down the steps to the sidewalk and across the crosswalk to him.
“Hey, Dad!” Garth greeted warmly as his dad pulled him into a hug.
“Hey, son,” he replied, politely nodding at the other two teens. “Mandy, Chance, good to see you both.”
“You see us ALL the time!” Mandy smiled. “But thank you.”
Chance pointed to the car curiously. “What’s with the…Beetle, is it? I’d say it was new, but it looks…well, the opposite.”
“Yes, the car.” Tim smiled. “Considering a certain someone,” He indicated his son proudly. “Passed his driving test before school started, I figured you could handle some newfound responsibility. And that you and your friends could use it to get to and from school and other places more easily, instead of rolling the dice on whoever’s parents are available to take you that day.”
Garth looked elated, a modest blush deepening across his cheeks. “Awww, Dad…” He hugged him again. “Thank you.”
“Awwwww, you’re so sweet!” Mandy hopped up and down, eyes glassy with tears. “Whew, gotta not ruin my mascara.”
Chance smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Gallard.”
Releasing Garth from the hug, Tim regarded Chance kindly. “I keep telling you, Chance, call me Timothy. But anyway, I have every confidence you three can give it the attention it needs.”
“Mom HAS been giving us some pointers,” Garth pointed out, wrapping his arms around his friends in a determined manner. “We can fix it up in no time, right, guys?”
“The car’s not the only thing that needs fixing around here.” A posh, critical voice scolded from behind them. The trio turned to see a tall girl with tanned skin, brown, short hair, piercing brown eyes, and a prominent frown eying them with disdain. She wore a three-piece purple, white and grey suit with purple high heels and purple flower accessories. Her nails were also manicured and painted purple. “Honestly, Mr. Gallard, you’d think you of all people would have better experience with parking, given your occupation. Guess precision doesn’t translate from fire trucks to jalopies.”
Despite Tim looking mildly amused by the comment, Garth, Mandy and Chance most certainly were not. “If you’re trying to one-up yourself at rule enforcement, Renee, you pick the absolute pettiest ways to do so,” Garth replied indignantly. “And it’s not a truck, it’s an engine!”
Renee just waved her perfect hand dismissively. “To-may-to, to-mah-to, Garth. Now get this…this thing out of this lot! It’s not fit to be seen at a modern establishment like our school.”
“If anyone’s not fit to be seen, Renee, it’s you,” Mandy snarked. “So take your prissy purple suit and get out of our business. Pul-eaze.”
Renee simply huffed. “Fine. But remember, Bradford, I am the school prefect. You would be wise to watch yourself around me.” She turned on her heels and walked away.
Chance just scoffed and folded his arms. “Prefect? Glorified hall monitor is more like it.”
“Just ignore her,” Tim advised wisely. “She’s just trying to abuse her power. It only works if you let her.”
“And trust me, NO ONE at this school is gonna let her,” Garth assured, pulling his sleeve tighter over his arm. “Now! What do you guys say we get this ‘jalopy’ to my house and we get to work on ‘em?”
Mandy’s eyes lit up. “Heck yeah!” She pumped her fist in the air enthusiastically. Chance nodded. “I don’t see why not.”
The quartet clamored into the small vehicle, who shifted around trying to support the weight. Garth just shrugged it off. “Must need the springs looked at,” he assured before starting the engine and pulling out of the school parking lot.
…
“Transformers Resurrection will return after these messages.” Garth, Mandy and Chance pose for a selfie taken by Mandy. She does so with a flash of her phone’s camera, then turns it to the actual camera, a near perfect imitation of the real-time pose they’re making.
“We now return to Transformers Resurrection.” A little girl with brown hair and denim overalls runs up from behind Garth, surprising him by hopping up onto his shoulders. He just laughs along with her as she wraps her arms around his neck and he grabs her legs, holding her up on his back. They both smile at the camera.
…
[3:40 PM, St. Hillary suburbs, St. Hillary, Oregon]
The afternoon carried on over the town of St. Hillary, away from Main Street and the hustle and bustle of the school parking lot. Outside one of the many houses arranged in a line, a taller structure with a wide driveway, the Beetle the trio currently working on it had been given was up on a car jack, suspended in the air and unable to move. Of course, if it was an ordinary car, this would have been fine, but this was not the case. The car, secretly a robot, had a brain that was currently racing a thousand miles a minute in contrast to its confined position.
“Okay, relax, B-127,” it reminded itself gently. “You only narrowly avoided getting caught by the authorities this morning! You only got bought as a gift for a trio of humans! They don’t have to know you’re secretly an alien from outer space! They totally WON’T turn you into the government if/when they find out! It’s not like your worst fear for the past few years is coming true. It’s not like you’re stranded in a strange town, alone and with no opportunity for backup from your fellow Autobots. You’re fiiiiinnnnee!”
He could only lie to himself for so long before it became ridiculous. He just gave up and sighed softly. “Who am I kidding? Not like they would come looking for me, given they’re run by that jerk of a leader, Optimus Prime. Why else haven’t they come looking for me? Bet he’s still trying to deny what he’s done has only hurt us. He could’ve stopped the destruction of our home a LONG time ago! Or better yet, ensured this stupid war never started! But nooooo, he HAD to be the ‘hero’ and mess everything up!” He found himself shuddering, which would only attract attention, he realized. B-127 sighed again.
“Don’t worry,” he tried to assure himself. “These kids seem nice, right? Maybe one day I could actually tell them about me. Maybe they WON’T turn me into the government. Maybe…no, not today, but one day.” The garage door began to open just then, making him gulp. “Not today, though. For now, play. It. Cool!” he enunciated before going silent once more.
Garth, Mandy and Chance emerged from the house, the former having taken off his varsity jacket and wrapped his bare arms completely and securely in sports tape before donning a pair of leather gloves. He grabbed a rolling mechanic’s pad while Mandy and Chance grabbed a tool box and a cleaning rag respectively, regarding the car with a determined, confident look. “Alright, team, let’s get to work. Mandy, you take the hood. Chance, you focus on cosmetics. I’ll handle the undercarriage.”
“You got it!” Mandy smiled, heading over and delicately popping open the car’s hood. She slid another pair of gloves over her multipigmented, painted hands before inspecting the engine, transmission fluid, and various other parts delicately and meticulously. She worked him like she knew he was a sentient being, cleaning out gunk and reconnecting wires like no one’s business.
Garth branched off into more forceful repairs, tightening and adjusting springs and screws, fixing damage he didn’t know he had. Which, considering he’d only gotten this vehicle mode this morning and hadn’t been serviced in who knew how long, was extensive. Impressive turns of a wrench or screwdriver combined with percussive maintenance if needed.
Chance may not have had the mechanical know-how of his peers, but he certainly had an eye for details. Gently running the cloth along his paintwork, he cleaned off dirt, twigs, scratches and unearthed scrapes and dents. A few seconds after discovery, he was there with a rotary buffer to pound them out. Then, following up with paint retouches.
“So, how were your days?” Garth asked loud enough to be heard from the undercarriage.
“Great!” Mandy replied, screwing in a new spark plug. “I made a bunch of posters for my big ‘protest for the meadow’ I wanna organize soon in art class. And in bio, I worked on transcribing the data I got for its pollination rate! Show the mayor’s office that those NEST cronies should keep their filthy hands off it.”
The Beetle would smile if he could. He admired Mandy’s fighting spirit.
“That’s my girl.” Garth slid out from under the car to give her a smile, which she returned before he turned his attention to Chance. “How about you, Clutch?”
Chance blushed at the sight of oil on Garth’s rosy cheeks and grasped at his jacket before answering. “Well, I managed to complete my latest set of cards for my art class project, and I managed to get through ELA and math without wanting to have a mental breakdown. Mandy helped.” He gave her an affectionate glance, prompting her to give a playful but meaningful salute. “What about you?”
“Led the charge in the inaugural dodgeball match in gym class today. We won, of course, team effort and all,” he answered modestly, multitasking by adjusting various parts in the undercarriage. “Shop class was also fun, heh, you could say it foreshadowed what we’re doing now. And we don’t need to fill each other in on chorus.”
“Other than that we were AWESOME.” Mandy beamed. “Winter concert can’t handle us!”
“As it often can’t.” Garth smiled back. “We nearly brought the house down in the spring. Dad nearly chewed out the organizers for letting the building past capacity.”
“On the one hand, it would have been funny, on the other, I really don’t wanna see your dad mad,” Chance replied modestly.
“I know it’s the winter concert, but they might have to get outside seating.” Mandy laughed before slipping into a melodic voice. 🎵”So we put our hands up like the ceiling can’t hold us!”🎵
🎵”Like the ceiling can’t hold ussss!”🎵 The other two joined in fluently like they’d done it a thousand times before, laughing afterward. They then continued working on B-127, who reviewed everything he’d just heard in his head.
“They have lovely singing voices,” he said to himself. “Again, they seem so nice! Why am I stressing out about this?” But then he remembered why, and he went silent once more.
Once they’d gotten done with the inner workings, they transitioned to paint. Chance popped open a can of yellow and black paint and held it up to Garth and Mandy, who gave him the thumbs-up. They dipped paintbrushes or held airbrushes against the body of the vehicle, covering over the residual scratches, wear and tear, even the front hood sigil.
“Just like oil on canvas,” Chance said confidently after perfectly redoing a line of black against the lower doors. He stood up to get a further look at their handiwork, and the car practically sparkled and gleamed like new. “Wow…can’t say I’ve ever refurbished a car before, but I think we did a pretty good job.”
“Heck yeah we did!” Mandy set down her airbrush and joined him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. “We should start a side hustle.”
Garth smiled at them, but then he got an idea, glancing back at the car. He quickly texted his parents, and when he got a reply, smiled big. He clamored to his feet on the other side of the car, excited. “Hey, so, dinner’s not gonna be ready for a bit, and since the fams know where we are…you wanna take it out for a test drive?”
Mandy waved her hands excitedly. “YES! Oooh, Mount. St. Hillary’s a PERFECT place to watch the sunset! And if we get on the road now, we should get there in time!”
“Alright then, sunset drive it is.” Garth held the passenger door open for her before he rounded to the driver’s side and opened the door. Only Chance stood outside it, looking hesitant and anxious.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” he asked. “I don’t wanna get us in trouble.”
Garth slid inside the driver’s seat, a reassuring yet confident smile on his face. “Come on, it’s only a twenty minute or so drive up to Mt. Saint. Hillary. The sunset’s beautiful this time of year! And we’ll all be together. I won’t let anything happen to either of you. I promise.”
Chance couldn’t resist that smile for long. “Alright, then.” He scrambled through the back door into the row of seats, expression now matching that of his friends. “Let’s drive.”
Garth stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, making the car come to life. Excitement reverberated throughout the vehicle’s frame and the trio within it. He put his foot on the gas pedal and backed them out of the driveway into the road. They zipped off down the suburbs and through into town.
The night life of St. Hillary had come out by now, restaurants and other social hotspots alight with activity. People milled around outside and inside the strips of buildings of Main Street, waving when they noticed the trio passing by. They waved back amidst the radio music playing throughout the interior, occasionally bursting into song along with it. Songs about fast cars, facing the unknown, living on the edge. Though they wisely stayed well under the speed limit around other people.
Once they got out of the town, though, Garth stomped on the gas pedal, putting on a burst of speed that sent them rocketing out along the highway B-127 had raced along earlier that day. They still kept under the speed limit, but the way the air rushed by, the trees became blurred, the center line of the pavement ran together, it was a dizzying sensation of speed. Mandy laughed, livening up the atmosphere even more, grasping Garth’s free arm, making his smile grow as he looked over at her. Chance held on for dear life, looking overstimulated but elated.
Eventually, they turned down a dirt road that led away from the highway into the forest surrounding the highest mountain around: Mount. Saint Hillary. Instantly, the still lingering sunlight gave way to pitch-black as they were surrounded on all sides by a tunnel of trees. The air turned cooler and they occasionally jostled and had to swerve to avoid fallen branches, but there was still a semi-beaten path to follow.
They slowly crept up in elevation as they entered the mountains surrounding the town, and particularly the highest peak, the town’s namesake. It stood as a monolith against the red, orange and white sky, a picture too good to paint. They emerged from the tunnel onto an overlook that provided them an up close and personal view of the setting sun. Garth parked the car in the shaded trees and the trio got out to face it.
“Whoa…” Mandy breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
Chance agreed. “You don’t get these where I’m from.” He looked around the landscape in wonder, taking every small detail. Perched in a nearby tree, he noticed the shape of a bird, moderately sized with black and red feathers and yellow eyes. He sat down on a nearby rock, took out his sketchbook, flipped to a fresh page, and immediately began sketching, like it was instinct.
Garth leaned against the Beetle’s front, watching as Mandy looked around as well, in wonder of her surroundings, as per usual. She scanned the ground, looking for any traces of trash or unique objects. Her boyfriend couldn’t resist a smile. “Anything?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, though she didn’t stop inspecting the ground. “Thankfully, not many people come up here, or the town does a remarkable job of keeping the trails clean.” Behind the Beetle, and opposite of the direction they’d come from, was a set of tire tracks similar to the ones found by the NEST surveyors on a different part of the mountain earlier that day, with the strange sigil in between them. They registered to said Beetle with surprise. “I would not be surprised if NEST wants to stick their hands here like they wanna do everywhere else.”
“What’s their deal, anyway?” Chance asked, glancing up at his friends. “They just kinda showed up recently and started acting like they owned the place.”
Garth got up off of the Beetle, much to the latter’s relief, and stepped toward his friends. The yellow car slowly and quietly backed up to investigate the tracks. “I’m not sure, either, and neither are my parents. The city says they’re trying to get building contracts to ‘help St. Hillary reach its full potential’.”
“Sounds pretentious if you ask me.” Mandy snorted, something glimmery on the ground catching her eye. “And I just found something to help show that they shouldn’t.” She picked it up and held it between her friends’ gazes. It was a small, brilliant blue crystal, tiny enough to fit in the palm of her hand.
“What kind of gem is that?” Chance asked. “Topaz?”
“Probably. Maybe blue spinel,” she replied, pocketing it. “Whatever it is, I think I got an idea for my latest line of eco-accessories.”
The mention of a blue crystal made the Beetle perk up. He glanced back down at the tracks to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. The insignia perfectly matched the ones on his own tires, an alien face that stood for courage, honor, and freedom in the face of adversity. And if what Mandy said was true, that people rarely came up here…
“It all makes sense,” he whispered. “These tracks, the crystal, the remote location…I don’t know how to explain it, but they’re here! Or they were here. The Autobots…they’re here!” His voice steadily raised in volume over the course of the sentence, ending with him laughing in exhaustion and elation. “Oh, thank Primus…”
He froze when he felt the entire area go quiet. He adjusted his mirrors and locked gazes with the trio, who were looking at him like they’d seen a ghost. He only realized too late what he’d done. “Aw scrap…”
Chance pointed a shaky finger at the car. “Hey guys…” he began cautiously, “...Did our car just talk?”
“I…believe it did, Chance.” Garth gulped, tugging them behind him while he looked terrified. B-127 wracked his processor for what to say to diffuse the situation. Finally, something came to mind.
“Uh…Ba-weep-gragnah wheep ni ni bong," he recited, as he’d been taught to do when meeting other life forms. The trio looked at one another in utter bewilderment. “Ba-weep-gragnah wheep ni ni bong?” Mandy repeated, confused.
The car, however, was elated. “Haha, YES! You know the universal greeting! You are humans of culture!”
Mandy giggled. “If that’s the universal greeting, it’s a silly one, but thank you…whatever you are.”
B-127 blinked. “Whatever I am? I’m me! There’s not many others like me, though, apparently more than I thought.”
Garth looked like he’d been tackled when he wasn’t ready for it. “You mean…there’s other talking cars like you?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” B-127 continued. “I’m not normally a talking car. This isn’t my true form, as you would say.”
The kids only looked more flabbergasted by the minute. “Then…what are you normally?” Chance asked, admittedly against his better judgement. He’d read too many H.P. Lovecraft books to know asking that was bad news.
The car gulped, realizing his efforts to get out of the corner were only backing himself further into it. He hesitated, considering his other options, and everything he’d learned about the trio so far. Sure, he’d spent the last few years on the move constantly, fleeing from place to place, trying to hide his true nature from humans for fear of the consequences, but these humans were nice. Kind to him and each other. They’d taken him in, fixed him up, and made him shine without asking for reward. The least they deserved was honesty.
“You...may wanna stand back for this,” he admitted. They promptly obeyed before he took a deep breath. “Alright…here goes.”
Parts shifted, slid, and contorted. The Beetle turned inside out and rose in height until it was taller than any other trio. Limbs formed around a chassis, then hands, then feet. A ghost of an alien insignia on its chest. And then a horned helm popped out from a neck, and a pair of blue optics gazed down at the trio, who all looked pale as a sheet.
…
“Transformers Resurrection will return after these messages.” Mandy, in a cheerleader’s uniform, does a short cheer, ending in “Go, fight, win!” before laughing and waving at the camera via her pom-poms.
“We now return to Transformers Resurrection.” Chance walks onscreen drawing in his sketchbook, initially not noticing the camera, before looking up with a start. He looks nervous before giving an awkward smile and wave, then walks off camera, back to sketching.
…
The trio stood in the shadow of the former Beetle, now transformed robot, eyes wide and mouths agape. He shrunk back somewhat, his blue optics averting from them. He twiddled his servos, expecting the worst. “Um…er…I know…this is a shock…”
“Dude…” Mandy finally found her voice and spread her arms wide. “You’re SO COOL!”
The bot was shocked. A bluish blush appeared on his cheekplates as he slowly advanced toward them again. “You…you think I’m cool? You don’t think I’m…a monster?”
“Pffft, what? No, we think you’re awesome! Don’t we, boys?” She elbowed Garth and Chance, who recovered and spluttered, “Uh, yes, of course.” and “Yeah, totally!” Mandy folded her arms and looked smugly at them before regarding the bot again. “Do you have a name?”
The bot looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, kind of. It’s more of a number than anything. I’m B-127.” He looked visibly dismayed by it.
Mandy turned the name over in her head. “B-127? That’s a bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?”
“Uh, Mandy, you seriously aren’t trying to make friends with a robot car, are you?” Chance asked under his breath.
“She’s Mandy, what else would she do?” Garth replied under his own.
Mandy shushed them and intently looked the robot over. They had painted him black with yellow stripes, which showed up around various parts of his body, like his arms and his chest. “Hmmm…black and yellow…you look more like a bumblebee than anything.”
The bot tilted his helm curiously. “A bumblebee? What’s that?”
Mandy looked around, noticing a nearby patch of flowers with a few of the eponymous insects. She gestured for him to follow her; she knelt down to the patch and pointed at them. “Busy little things. Always working hard for their hives. Don’t mess with them, though, or they’ll sting ya! And they hurt!”
The bot nodded, a smile growing on his face. “Ohhhh…yeah, I see it!” He stood up tall. “I’m a bee…and I LIKE IT!” He beamed down at them. “You can call me Bumblebee! Or Bee for short.”
“Gotcha! Bumblebee it is!” Mandy smiled and laughed, making the other two boys do the same, alleviating some of the remaining tension. Yet it didn’t stop the trio’s curiosity.
“So…what are you, exactly?” Chance asked. “I mean, you’re a robot, that’s also a car, obviously, but what kind of robot? Some escaped prototype from a government lab? A corporate project gone haywire?”
“Uh, neither of those, actually,” Bee replied, rubbing the back of his helm sheepishly. “I’m an Autobot, specifically, and I come from the planet Cybertron. We’ve been on Earth for a while now, but I was separated from my teammates, and I’ve been trying to find them again and-”
“Haaaaannnng on.” Garth paused him, apprehension still in his eyes. He pointed to him shakily. “You’re an alien?”
Bee tensed. “Wellll, I don’t like to use that word…” He searched for a better one in his head, but couldn’t find it, so he sighed. “But by all definitions that matter, yes.”
Garth still looked anxious while Chance and Mandy looked at one another in wonder, then him. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any MORE cooler!” Mandy exclaimed. “You’re a science fiction movie come to life!”
Bee looked elated. “Really? I thought you humans would be afraid of me if I ever showed my true self. I’m not exactly a ‘normal’ car… But you guys…you guys are so nice!”
“Uh, you see us?” Mandy gestured to her multi-pigmented arms before pulling Garth and Chance in by their shoulders. “We aren’t exactly ‘normal’ either. You don’t have to be normal around us! Normalcy is overrated! What makes you different makes you awesome!” Bee blushed again, looking genuinely touched by her words. This was the happiest he’d felt in such a long time.
“Ok, to be fair,” Garth clarified. “You don’t have to be normal around us, but you kinda have to be normal around other people. For all they know, you’re still a regular car. So, to save us a WHOLE lot of uncomfortable conversations,” He stroked at his arms before continuing, “Would you mind if we kept you a secret? And you just behaved like a normal vehicle around town?”
Bee nodded in understanding. He had expected something like this would be necessary. “Absolutely! I don’t mind at all. I’ll be the best car you’ve ever had! And maybe the best friend, too. You three set a high bar in that department, though.”
“Awwww!” Mandy cooed, hugging her boys again. Bee felt a twinge of envy buried under his happiness, but he pushed it down. His elation more than outweighed his sadness for past sins. He was counting his lucky stars that they hadn’t decided to go straight to the authorities and turn him in for just existing.
Garth’s phone dinged just then, causing him to slip it from his pocket and glance at the notification. The others looked at him curiously. “It’s my mom.” He said. “She’s wondering where we are, but pretty soon ‘wondering’ is gonna graduate to ‘demanding’ if we don’t get back to town.”
Chance looked back over his shoulder over the horizon at the blazing sun setting in the distance, painting the sky a brilliant orange ombre. He motioned for them to look at it. “It’ll also be dark soon.”
Mandy clapped. “Well, then, no time to lose, ay?” She looked at Bee expectantly. “Mind giving us a lift, Bee?”
As much as Bee wanted to continue hunting around the mountain for clues to the Autobots’ whereabouts, his new friends (His human FRIENDS! That still felt odd to say.) were pressed for time and needed him. So he gave them a determined smile, transformed back to car mode, and opened his doors. “Hop in!”
The trio looked at one another with varying levels of excitement as they clambered into their earlier seats, strapped themselves in, and drove off down the trail from whence they came. Along the way, though unbeknownst to them, they passed the bird Chance had spotted earlier and had begun to sketch. Although, if he’d taken a closer look, he would have questioned whether it was actually a bird. It had a metallic shine to its black body, its beak open with some sort of recording device inside, and red and white carbon fiber wings, rather than the downy feathers of an organic bird. They were branded with a purple, alien sigil, but not like the one Bumblebee carried; whereas his carried honor and safety with its noble visage, this one was jagged, scowling, intimidating…
Deceiving.
The bird shut its beak and clicked like a tape recorder that had just finished filming. It spread its wings and flew off into the darkness.
…
By the time they had gotten into town and turned onto Main Street, dusk had given way to night. Most of the shops were closed, their owners locking them up tight until the next morning. The street lights were the only ones that glowed along the road, guiding travelers to their destinations. Few vehicles were out, minus the occasional NEST-branded car and the yellow Volkswagen Beetle of course. Garth made sure to meticulously turn the wheel around the corner and go slow, though Bee had no problem doing that himself. He recognized it was a force of habit for the human.
They pulled alongside a longer section of the strip of buildings soon enough, with a long set of windows and a canopied roof. It was brick, much like those around it, and two stories tall, housing a large open space on the first floor and a series of apartments on its second. Its neon signs were dark, much like everything else on the street.
Chance was quiet before he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Welp, this is my stop,” he stated, grabbing his sketchbook and looking at his two friends with a smile. “See ya at school tomorrow, all three of you?”
“You bet.” Mandy smiled, patting the dashboard to show Bee’s inclusion. Garth just nodded. Chance opened the door, exited, then shut it as quietly as he could before stepping up onto the sidewalk. He fished a key from his pocket and inserted it into the front door’s lock, looking back at the car once more. He felt like his head was spinning, like he’d gone on the most intense roller coaster ride of his life. Aliens were real. He felt like he was in a dream, but nope, it was reality. A reality he would face again the next day. He refocused with that promise, unlocked the door, and headed inside. Only then did the remaining trio pull off back into the street.
The Beetle soon cruised down the road into the neighborhood where Garth and Mandy lived. They passed house after house until they got to Garth’s, turning and pulling into it safely. As soon as they stopped in front of the garage door, Mandy slipped out into the cool night air with a bounce in her step.
“Thanks, Bee,” she said, patting the hood of the car affectionately.
“No problem!” he replied cheerfully, making Garth tense a bit as he got out of the car. He realized his place quickly. “Whoops, heh. Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, yeah, just be quiet. Okay?” Garth asked with little patience but much anxiety in his voice. He motioned to the front porch of his house, and Mandy instinctively knew to follow him up. She looked back once at the Beetle before heading up the steps. However, they didn’t head in the door right away, just behind the wall where the garage jutted out, blocking the view of the door from the driveway, however, they could still see Bee.
“So…” Garth began quietly after taking a breath. “That was…”
“Awesome!” Mandy interjected with a whisper shout. “We met a robot car! From OUTER SPACE! And he’s friendly!”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s friendly,” Garth gestured to Bee. “But he all but confirmed there’s more of them roaming around somewhere. What if they AREN’T friendly? What if just by associating with him, we’ve put ourselves in danger?”
Mandy gently reached out and grabbed his hands from his folded arms. “Garth. I feel like you’re overreacting again.”
“What if I’m not?!” he asked. “What if more of them come? What if we’re in danger? What if we’re being watched? What if one of you gets hurt?” His tone dropped at that moment to where he sounded more hurt than they would be. He snagged on his words and sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Mandy listened carefully, then tightened the grip their interlocked fingers had. She gently cupped his face with her other hand, bringing his gaze to her own. “Hey. No sorries. You have every right to feel the way you do. I mean, not every day you find out aliens are real, right?”
“Yeah,” he agreed as his other hand shifted to grab the sleeves of his varsity jacket. “I just...don’t want you or Chance to get hurt…like I was.”
“Garth.” Mandy regarded him seriously after glancing momentarily at his sleeves. “We may have gotten ourselves pulled into another world. Maybe there is no getting rid of that Beetle. But I promise you, no matter what, you are not going to lose Chance and I. We can take care of ourselves if any aliens come a-knockin.”
At this, Garth smiled proudly. “I know you can. You, especially.” He nuzzled her forehead, making her giggle for a few seconds.
“Exactly.” She smiled smugly before her face turned kinder again. “We got this. Together.”
“Together,” he affirmed, returning it. A second later, a light turned on from inside the house and a voice called out, “Garth? Get inside! It’s late!” Garth sighed momentarily before giving Mandy an apologetic smile. She just giggled before taking steps to head back to her own house, though they didn’t let go until their arms were stretched to their maximum limit.
As she passed Bee, she ran her hand along his hood, whispering a good night before crossing the strip of grass between their properties. Once Garth saw her slip behind the bungalow’s patio door, he in turn headed in. Though not before one last glance at their “new friend” in uncertainty.
Bee watched the whole interaction with warm fuzzies in his tank. His first true human friends since he’d woken up, and he already felt like he’d struck gold. But then he remembered his mission. He'd seen those tire tracks and security systems around the mountain when they were there, and to him, that could only mean one thing:
The Autobots were here. And he had to get back to them.
He waited until all the lights on the street were dark and the moon was high in the sky before he made his move. He slowly backed out of the driveway and into the street, watching carefully for traffic or those NEST operatives that seemed to prowl the town like cockroaches. Thankfully most of them seemed to have gone to sleep by this hour. Nonetheless, he still drove extra carefully out of the town and down the road that led up to the mountain.
As he climbed the winding peak, his excitement grew with the elevation and his speed followed suit. Trees blurred around him as he took the sharp turns with near-reckless abandon, but he still kept firmly on the road.
“Come on, come on, where are you?!” he muttered, both frustrated and excited. His spark pounded in his chassis as he scanned back and forth across the road. Where would they be? Where was the entrance? He thought back to when he first woke up from stasis; sure, things were a bit hazy, but this was the same mountain. It had to be. The tracks that he saw earlier proved it!
Finally, something passed by his line of sight in a blur. It looked like an opening of some sort. Without thinking twice, he swung around into a U-turn and gunned his engines back towards it. It was a cave. Hidden by a group of trees, but it was undeniably a cave into the mountain. With weird rock formations above it that looked like…engines! And there were tire tracks with Autobot branded symbols around it! Bee smirked and floored it inside.
Arcee and Ironhide were pacing around the entrance tunnel of the ship, making sure everything was calm like it usually was. But then they heard the sound of a car engine and paused. “Do you hear that?” Arcee asked the bigger mech. Before he could answer, a yellow Beetle zipped by them and nearly blew them off their pedes.
“Sorry!” it exclaimed. They looked at one another for a second before running after the crazy, screaming car that was careening through the hangar and single-handedly getting the attention of every bot in the Ark.
“GET OUT OF MY WAY! I NEED TO GET THROUGH! GET OUT OF MY WAY! I NEED TO GET THROUGH!” he yelled, zig-zagging throughout the entire cavernous space, barely dodging surprised bots along the way. They dropped whatever they were holding and slammed into walls trying to avoid the yellow streak. Finally he reached the large central command deck of the ship, the most spacious part, and used his transformation sequence to leverage into a flip. He went sliding along the floor in a perfect landing next to a very confused Jazz and Blaster at the computer embedded into the side wall. His door wings fluttered in happiness as he pumped his fist. “Yes! I made it!”
Once the chaos subsided, all the bots came running to see who had intruded into their ship, and their faceplates all lit up at once in joy and relief when they realized who it was. “B-127!” They all chorused in unison. Hot Rod and Windblade ran or glided over to him, pulling him into a tight hug.
“I knew you weren’t dead, little bro!” Hot Rod nearly sobbed with relief, but cleared his throat indignantly. “Well, I mean, we did.” He gestured between Windblade and himself; all she did was glare at him for a short moment before hugging her friend once again.
Bee smiled at them both momentarily before railing against the assembled crew again. “Three years! I’ve been away for three years! And none of you thought to call and check on me?!”
Jazz, Blaster, Arcee, Ratchet and Ironhide all glanced at one another like they had the worst, most uncomfortable secret to ever exist. “And for the record,” he continued. “It’s ‘Bumblebee’ now, not ‘B-127’.”
Jazz sighed, taking a step forward, knowing just how wrong his perception of time actually was. She put her servos together and tried to piece the words together in her head. “Bee…Bumblebee, honey…it’s been a lot more than just three years.”
Bee’s optics dilated into pinpricks as the shock fully hit him. The entire crew looked more like kicked puppies than the giant mechanical beings they actually were. “R-really?” he stuttered, glancing at Hot Rod and Windblade, searching for an explanation in their faces. “H-how long has it been?”
A dark shadow and several heavy footsteps sounded behind the trio before a deep, serious voice replied, “It has been 40 years since we awakened, B-127.”
All the bots immediately whirled around and stood at attention. Optimus Prime’s tall, red, blue, and silver frame stood in front of the door to the command center that led to the other halls of the Ark. He regarded Bee with abject seriousness and almost disdain compared to the others, something Bee was all too willing to return. He stepped toward the elder bot with clenched servos at his sides. “Nice to see you too, Optimus.” He replied with biting sarcasm.
“You would be wise to be more discrete in your…entrances,” Optimus scolded, blowing past the shocking revelation as quickly as Bee had entered the Ark. “This planet is populated with intelligent life that would want nothing less than our destruction if they were to discover our existence.” His tone dropped to a more wounded one as he continued, “We feared the worst when we awoke and you were not among us.”
Instead of looking mournful like his comrades, Bee looked even more angry. “So what? You were so afraid of humans that you spent 40 years in here instead of looking for me?!”
The bots all looked shameful. Optimus turned away from the younger mech, the scowl not leaving his face, but regret very visible in his optics. Bee just folded his arms and made a decision in the moment. “Well, I’ll have you all know, I met some of them today.”
The mood in the room shifted once again to shock as all the bots’ mouths dropped open. Optimus whirled around on his heel back to him. “You WHAT?!”
“Yeah!” Bee looked smug. “I met some. A trio from the town below the mountain. They’re young, like Hot Rod, Windy and I. And they were super nice! They didn’t ‘want my destruction’ at all!”
The bots looked fascinated. “What else were they like?” Windblade signed.
“Did they have awesome music taste?” Jazz asked excitedly.
“Did they possess acute medical knowledge?” Ratchet inquired curiously.
“Did they know how to fire a Fortress Maximus-grade fusion cannon?” Ironhide polished a spot on his arm turret proudly.
“Uh, Ironhide, I don’t think those exist on this planet,” Arcee gently reminded.
Bee pointed to each respective bot who asked each respective question. “Yes they did, kinda, and no. But they were super kind to me and each other. I mean, when I revealed to them I was an alien robot from outer space, they said I was cool!-”
Optimus, at this fact, practically punched a hole in the wall, making the whole space quake and everyone snap back to attention. “You REVEALED YOURSELF TO THEM?!!”
“Yeah!” Bee defiantly turned to him while everyone else were frozen statues. “I did! Because they deserved to know the truth about the car they just got! I don’t know what you’ve seen aside from rocks and caves for the past 40 years, but that’s not what I saw today. They’re not a threat! We don’t have to live in hiding anymore! Things can be different! Why can’t you see that?!”
Optimus was so angry that smoke wafted from various seams along his body. He shut his optics in an attempt to constrain his feelings. The others dared not even breathe. Windblade covered her audio receptors in an attempt to block out the yelling as Hot Rod tried to silently comfort her. When he opened them, they glared venomously down at Bee, who met them once before looking down at the floor like a sulking child. “You have made a serious mistake, B-127…”
“My name is Bumblebee…” he muttered quietly.
“You are to cease all contact with these humans of yours. You will remain here in the Ark indefinitely alongside all other Autobots. We cannot let anyone else from their species or ours discover our whereabouts,” he leaned down to Bee’s height, arms behind his back. “Is that understood, B-127?”
“MY NAME IS BUMBLEBEE!” he roared defiantly, meeting Optimus’s gaze and making the room shake all over again and nearly blowing all the bots off their pedes. To say they were surprised and horrified at his back talk would be an understatement. None more so than Hot Rod and Windblade, who looked like what he had done would offline him in an instant. He took a deep breath before snarling back at his leader, “And if you won’t acknowledge that, or them…well, I guess I belong more with them than I do you.”
Quick as a flash, he sprang into a leap, into a transformation over all the bot’s helms, landing behind them. With a squeal of his tires, he peeled out of the room and toward the loading bay of the Ark, and the dark of the earthen night. Optimus tried to run after him, only for Ironhide and Arcee to catch him by the arms and hold him back with all their might.
“Cool it, Optimus!” Ironhide ordered, bringing his commander back to solid ground as it were.
“Let him go,” Arcee assured. “He just needs time to himself.”
“He had 40 years to himself,” Ratchet countered.
Optimus could only sigh, looking defeated and ashamed. “That is precisely what I am afraid of.”
Consternation swept the room, especially with Hot Rod and Windblade, who still looked overwhelmed and overstimulated from the previous moments. She wordlessly stood up and quietly crept to the door, exiting the command center with only a short glance back to a worried Hot Rod. The door shut behind her and she exhaled, sagging her shoulders. She walked silently down the hall until she approached one with many doors lined along the walls in succession, the Ark’s private bunks. She hugged herself as she walked, emotions swirling in her helm that wanted to spill out into the open, but she couldn’t seem to let them.
“Rough time back there with the crew?” A voice suddenly sounded in her head. It was nearly completely flat, but there was enough of an emotional presence that she could tell it was meant to be comforting. She smiled slightly. “Of course you would be the first one to know. You see everything that happens on this ship.”
“I am the ship,” The voice reminded. “Your quarters is right next to mine for that reason. You are my Cityspeaker.”
“And you are my Titan,” she affirmed, continuing her walk. “And sometimes, you’re the only bot on this ship that gets me.” The flier entered her room code on the door closest to the one at the end of the hall that led to the ship’s core and slipped inside.
The place was as luxurious as one could manage in circumstances like this, with all red furnishings and drapings. Data pads were secured in a shelf along the wall and there were curtains to mimic the appearance of a window despite rock surrounding them on all sides. She collapsed onto her berth’s fuzzy, velvet red weighted blanket. “I just wish I could help everyone get along. It’s what I was built to do!”
She then had an idea, but only realized it when the voice spoke to her again. “You want to head after him.”
“I can’t.” She rolled over onto her chassis and traced delicate patterns along her covers. “What if the crew finds out? I can’t disobey a direct order from Optimus Prime himself.”
“Well, you are classified as a diplomat in addition to serving under his command,” It pointed out. “Therefore you have a choice to disregard his orders if needed. And more importantly, Bumblebee, as he’s called, is your friend. You know in your spark it is the right thing to do.”
Windblade considered its words carefully. Finally, she made up her mind. “You’re right. He’s spent 40 years feeling and being alone. He deserves to know he isn’t.” She stood up and headed to the door once more, pausing to run her servo along its frame affectionately. “Thanks, Mainframe.”
“Any time, Windblade,” he replied as she exited, looking along the hall and listening to make sure the coast was clear.
“Now,” She thought, rubbing her servos together. “I wonder if there is a place to find a proper planet-based alt mode around here.”
…
The forests along the road back to St. Hillary were quiet, only broken by the streak of golden yellow that zipped by so hard it made the adjacent trees blow in its wake. The Beetle went by so fast one could barely register it was there before it simply wasn’t. Anyone, that is, except a small figure within the trees.
The same condor that had spotted Garth, Mandy, Chance and Bumblebee earlier followed the latter’s run with its eyes until it was in the distance, past the city limits sign. They narrowed in suspicion before it spread its canvas-like, carbon fiber wings and flapped off its perch. It took flight, following the car to a certain point before veering off on its own course just before entering town.
It cruised under the starlight for several minutes before noticing a dark shape that stood out between the trees. Swooping downward toward it, weaving in between trees and their sharp needles, it spotted its target; another robotic figure, except this one was tall, black, and dark navy with shades of white throughout its body. Its face was obscured by a faceplate and red visor, which displayed the vitals and other crucial information about the condor and the surrounding environment to its wearer.
The figure patted the helm of the bird, who nuzzled back affectionately before transforming into a cassette tape. Opening a compartment on its chest, the figure placed the tape inside it, closed it, and began to play it. Various audio clips synced with footage taken of both Bumblebee and the kids, from both his travels and the cliff face. Mentions of the Autobots especially were taken into consideration.
When the tape ended with a click, his visor seemed to shine. “Operation: successful. Laserbeak, well done.” The tape within him seemed to hum before he opened a comm link. “Soundwave to Nemesis. Intelligence gathered. Returning to base. With much to discuss.”
He pressed another button on his chest panel. A few seconds later, a green energy vortex swirled to life behind them, leading to parts unknown. He glared one last time at the landscape before turning around and stepping into it. The portal winked out of existence a few moments later, leaving nothing but empty space and the rustling of leaves in the wind from whence it came.