"One need not fear the darkness if they have but the stars to light the way."
★☆★☆★☆★☆★
Sparks litter the concrete floor, spraying in all directions as they're commanded to weld two pieces of pipe together. A young woman stands at the source of the grinding metal; her hair tied back in a messy ponytail and a welder's mask shielding her face. Her project is an old Triumph TR65 Thunderbird—a grand motorbike in the making for roughly three years—and she would claim it to be her greatest creation.
For five years Toby Williams has bent and molded metal into shapes of her own desire, though her thoughts often find her looking to the night sky of Los Angeles, California; often naming every star in sight and more. The night became an escape for the young woman, starting the day she watched the life fade from her mother's eyes as she lay in the hospital bed struggling for breath. Margret Hills—her mother's maiden name—had adored the stars and believed in life amongst them, and passed that belief down to her only daughter, who now studies the galaxies and solar systems beyond the visible universe.
Now as the end of her high school years is in sight, Toby feels overwhelmed by the choices and responsibilities—though familiar with most—thrust into her inexperienced hands that are only trained to hold a welding stick and the delicate tools for studying the sky. Though the last two weeks of school have her screaming for freedom from her hell-hole of a house—and escape from her repetitive life. Every day is the same routine; get up early, eat breakfast, run for the bus, attend classes, miss out on lunch, attend more classes, run to the auto shop, work for five hours, walk home, avoid her father, eat a rushed dinner while doing homework, and go to bed. Nothing has changed since she was eleven years old; the year her mother died.
A blaring alarm rings deafeningly in the open workshop of the Auto Repair Shop, causing Toby to sigh lightly as she momentarily halts her work to shut up the mind-numbing sound. She lifts up her welders mask to locate the device creating the annoying noise; the fluorescent lights shining off her pale, sweat sheened cheeks and smoothing the details of her upturned nose. Icy blue eyes scan the surfaces of the workshop, growing quickly irritated from the infuriating sound ringing from her phone. A groan of annoyance leaves the young woman's lips as she discovers her phone on the table behind her, hidden beneath a pile of scattered blueprints of half-planned projects and inventions.
She quickly picks the device up with a gloved hand and her eyes widen upon reading the glowing screen. Ten thirty. Good gods, how had she managed that? And with school in the morning too. After panicking slightly for a minute or so, Toby shuts down the welder and puts it away in its proper place before rolling away the "almost" complete motorcycle; she had practically completed it this time, now she only needed to give it a proper paint job and she could take it for a spin. The woman smiles to herself—a small piece of her growing freedom slotting into place.
With effective efficiency, Toby cleans up the small repair shop with a small grin on her face, unable to stifle the pride growing in her chest. Her gloves fly across the shop to land in a messy pile upon a small desk as she tosses them aside and ties her flannel shirt around her waist, revealing her toned arms. With a quick adjustment to her knee length denim shorts, she grabs her backpack from a hook on the wall. She's still smiling as she exits the shop from the back way—the employees only entrance that leads into a wide alleyway—and locks the door behind her. The smile only falters when she hears the sound of several engines echoing in the alley.
'What the hell?' A single car is unusual enough back here, but multiple? Not to mention the bizarre noise of clashing metal that definitely does not belong to regular vehicles. Ever the curious type, Toby walks silently towards the strange event that lies just out of her sight.
"Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendant of Archibald Witwicky?" Toby frowns, as the voice does not quite sound human, with a metallic 'ting' to it; though sounds deeply regal and authoritative.
"Yeah," a tentative voice replies softly.
"My name is Optimus Prime. We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," Her keys slip from her fingers as she steps out of the shadows, spotting the owner of the metallic voice.
The keys land on the ground with a loud jangle and the creatures turn suddenly to find the source of the sound. Five robotic figures—no, make that five gigantic robotic figures—stand in a circle around a pair of kids. Each robot is different, varying in height and colour, but all resemble cars in some way with automotive parts sticking out from their bodies. Their blue optics study her severely, judging her level of threat as she stands motionless before them.
Before she can blink, a large, cannon-like weapon is pointed at her head, glowing brightly as parts spin around its barrel. Her body freezes in place, but she stands in awe of the black robot that wields it.
"Who are you?" It—he—demands, shoving the cannon closer to Toby's face.
"Toby Williams," she licks her suddenly dry lips, "th-this is not how I expected my night to go."
"Ironhide, lower your weapon, we do not harm humans," the blue and red robot commands, still studying the woman curiously.
"But she's a potential threat!" He argues.
"No I'm not," Toby scowls at the black robot as he scoffs, "what would I do? Go to the police? They'd think I'm a nutjob. Besides, I've looked to the stars enough to know that I don't want to cause trouble with those who came from them."
"The girl is wise," a neon yellow robot addresses Optimus, "there is little she can do to affect the plan."
With a grumble that sounds more like a revving engine, the black robot lowers his weapon and it folds seamlessly into his arm. The woman's eyes widen in wonder at his seemingly simple action before picking up her keys again.
"You can call us Autobots for short," the neon yellow one speaks again, his optics now shifting to observe the kids beside him.
Both children—if she could even call them that—look absolutely terrified and judging by the dirt smudged on their faces and clothes, had been through hell to get here. They look at her expectantly, hoping that she's going to drag them from this freakish nightmare but she barely spares them a glance, as she is too busy admiring the Autobots.
"So we can avoid any confusion—if you don't mind—could you tell us your names?" Toby clasps her hands in front of her, smiling at her discovery of an alien species.
Optimus straightens, recalling the conversation before the woman's interruption. He gestures to the silver Autobot, the smallest of the group, who flips into a sitting position. "My first lieutenant. Designation, Jazz."
"This looks a cool place to kick it," Jazz slouches on a beaten, old car behind him.
"What is that? How did he learn to talk like that?" The boy points to the silver Autobot, face full of confusion.
"Honestly, kid, they're autonomous robotic organisms from another planet; I'd say they have access to the internet." Toby chuckles lightheartedly, though grumbles at his inability to apply simple logic.
Optimus nods his head in reply to the woman's statement, proving her to be correct before gesturing to the black Autobot behind them, "My weapons specialist, Ironhide."
Ironhide's cannons spin out from their resting position, firing up with an orange glow. "Feeling lucky, punk?" He points them at the children, who back away slightly in fear while the young woman examines the moving parts of the weapons with fascination.
"I could disassemble your cannons in a heartbeat, so yes, I am feeling lucky," Toby places her hands on her hips in a cocky manner, her eyes challenging the gaze of the weapons specialist as she mentally studies him.
"Easy, Ironhide," Optimus speaks gently, so as not to set off the trigger happy 'bot.
"Just kidding," Ironhide defends himself, "I just wanted to show them my cannons."
"As much as I'd appreciate a proper look at your weaponry, I've seen the proton cannons from the wrong end of the barrel two too many times today," the woman raises a brow to press her point, though she wears a giddy grin upon her lips.
"I like this femme," he smirks, prodding the woman with a digit in a friendly way, "she knows her stuff."
"Oh, I know a lot more than you think, 'big guy'," she pats his servo acceptingly, a knowledgeable glint in her eyes.
"Our medical officer, Ratchet."
The medic sniffs the air. "The boy's pheromone level suggest he wants to mate with one of the females."
The couple look at the ground, the girl scratching the back of her head and the boy whistling lowly in awkwardness. Toby shuffles away from the boy, shuddering uncomfortably. "Well, you're certainly not mating with me, sunshine."
In an attempt to break the awkward silence, Optimus speaks, gesturing to the last unintroduced Autobot. "You already know your guardian, Bumblebee."
The youngest of the 'bots pretends to fight some invisible bad guys, blaring his speakers proudly. "~Check on the rep, yeah second to none!"
"So you're my guardian, huh?" The boy looks up at the yellow and black Autobot as he nods silently.
Ratchet points some sort of device at Bumblebee and a laser lands on the obviously younger Autobot's neck. "His vocal processors were damaged in battle," the medic switches off the device and taps it roughly, "I'm still working on it."
"Why are you here?" Toby speaks up, drawing the Autobots' gazes to her. "I mean, Earth is hardly the most interesting place out there, and I seriously doubt you're here sightseeing; so, why?"
"We are here looking for the Allspark. And we must find it before Megatron," Optimus states grimly, his optics boring into her soul.
"Mega-what?" The boy questions, his face emotionless.
"Megatron; he would be a Mega-who, dumb-dumb," the young woman looks at the boy, wondering exactly how stupid he is, "honestly, have you even been listening? What grade are you in, anyways?"
"Grade eleven."
"Oh great, he's one of 'those' idiots," Toby mutters to herself, though everyone hears her.
"Hey! I have a name!"
"Samuel James Witwicky, that's quite the laughable name," she says with a raised brow, "though I do admire your taste in cars; that 1977 yellow Chevrolet Camaro with black racing stripes you brought to the lake the other day?" The woman whistles lowly, "Good choice."
Bumblebee fist pumps the air, gesturing wildly to Toby as he whistles and beeps. The other Autobots sigh at his behavior and Jazz glares at the woman slightly for increasing his tiny ego.
"What's his problem?"
"That Camaro was Bumblebee," Sam explains stiffly.
"Well then, 'Bee, you've got good taste," Toby smirks at the 'bot's expression of delight as he whirs happily.
"If I may," Optimus interrupts the small social interaction with a small frown, "we have little time, and even less to explain."
"M'kay," Toby turns to face the giant Autobot, expectantly waiting for him to continue, "I—we're listening."
Optimus taps the side of his blue helm, lighting his optics with lightning blue beams that form cracks in the cement below them. Several chunks of rock fall through; the stone endlessly spiraling down into the pits of a cruel world. Metal spires, decorated with harsh spikes littered with bodies, burst forth from the cracks, stopping only when they stood at a skyscraper's height.
"Our planet was once a powerful empire, peaceful and just, until we were betrayed by Megatron, leader of the Decepticons." Atop one of the spires, a grotesque being throws a spear at the only other living being in view, killing them on the spot. The creature laughs foully and his gaze settles on Toby, freezing her limbs in irrational fear. "All who defied them were destroyed. Our war finally consumed the planet, and the All Spark was lost to the stars. Megatron followed it to Earth, where Captain Witwicky found him."
Sam takes this moment to interrupt the Autobot leader. "My grandfather."
"Do me a favour, kid; shut up and listen, " Toby practically growls at the boy, her eyes eagerly observing the changing scene.
A blizzard swirls around the humans, and batters the coats of a small crew of men picking away at the ice around their ship. Each member looks desperate, cold, and scared; the chill freezing their panting breaths and gluing their eyelashes together. Two dogs, once held tightly by one of the men, slip from the suffering man's fingers, bounding after and barking at something unseen.
"It was an accident that intertwined our fates." The dogs begin digging desperately in the snow. Unaware of the likely danger, the men surround them with curiosity, only to scream when the ice cracks. A single man, with white hair and rounded glasses, falls through a hole in the ice, sliding out into a frozen cavern. He dusts himself off and studies his surroundings, crying out victoriously upon seeing the objects that don't belong. Frozen beneath a pile of snow, lies the leader of the Decepticons, his jaw agape in unforgotten hostility and though his optics no longer glow, they do not show any sign of surrendering to the eternity of death. "Megatron crash-landed before he could retrieve the Cube." The captain hesitantly touches a claw-like object wedged deep in the snow but turns upon hearing a whirring from the metallic beast. A flash of bright light surges from Megatron's optics, sending the man tumbling back with a cry as it blinds him. "He accidentally activated his navigation system. The coordinates to the Cube's location on Earth were imprinted on his glasses."
"How'd you know about his glasses?" Sam pipes up and Toby rolls her eyes, muttering something about 'stupid questions' and 'obvious answers'.
Optimus turns his gaze to the humans, banishing ancient memory. "eBay."
Toby smiles slightly and lifts a brow at the unnecessary majestic tone the Autobot had used. 'Damn, that sounded epic.'
"If the Decepticons find the All Spark, they will use its power to transform Earth's machines and build a new army," the medic speaks sorrowfully, eyeing the humans carefully, though his optics linger on the young woman as he sees her assessing the situation and skillfully studying each individual Autobot.
"And the human race will be extinguished," the woman's head snaps back to look at the Autobot leader as he straightens his posture, "Sam Witwicky, you hold the key to Earth's survival."
"Please tell me that you have those glasses," the girl speaks for the first time, looking pleadingly at Sam.
"Good gods, you better have," Toby snaps, panic evident in her eyes before she takes a deep breath.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam nods rapidly, "They're-um-at my house-yeah, at my house."
"Which would be, where exactly?" The woman prods for an answer, folding her arms across her chest.
"Well-um-where are we?" Sam turns in a clumsy circle to attempt to spot anything recognisable.
"Twenty second Wentford Avenue, Larkson Street is just on the other side of these buildings here." Toby explains swiftly, pointing over the repair shop.
"Huh," the boy gulps nervously, his eyes shifting to glance quickly at each Autobot.
"You have no idea where we are, do you, Samuel Witwicky?" The woman puts her head in her hands, groaning in annoyance.
Bumblebee whirs suddenly, apparently speaking to Optimus Prime who nods quickly and grumbles deeply in an unknown language to address the other 'bots.
"Isn't that handy? 'Bee knows where you live," Toby looks at Sam scornfully.
Without any words spoken, the Autobots shift, their metal gears grinding and popping as they compact themselves into their alternate forms. The young woman watches mesmerized as the weapons specialist clanks down into a modified GMC Topkick pickup truck and reeves his engine.
"Noice," Toby spins to admire the other Autobots, finding gloriously new looking cars in their places. Optimus Prime has folded into a Peterbilt semi-truck, his red and blue flaming paint job glinting dazzlingly in the moonlight. A golden 2007 Chevrolet Camaro purrs proudly from where Bumblebee once stood, opening his doors to allow the kids in. Ratchet stands tall as an emergency Hummer, rumbling patiently as Toby gapes. Unhappy with the lack of attention, Jazz roars his engine as a Pontiac Solstice and nudges forward to gain the woman's gaze.
"Get in," Toby jumps as Jazz's voice blasts loudly from his speakers, "we don't have all night."
"Alright, alright! Keep your tires on!" The woman scrambles to reach the impatient 'car' who rumbles in annoyance as she hops in his passenger seat and swings her bag onto her lap.
The Autobots roll out of the alley, following 'Bee as he leads them to Sam's residence. Toby takes her time to examine Jazz's interior, whistling lowly at the fine leather seats and polished wood dashboard.
"What are you doing?" Jazz's voice speaks through his radio as the woman trails her fingers over the grooves in the door.
"Admiring," she smiles, "I work with cars; I've never seen such a fine finish."
The Autobot reeves his engine proudly, causing the woman to laugh as he speedily overtakes Ironhide.
"Watch it!" Ironhide growls through Jazz's radio, presumably on a com link.
"Jazz?"
"What up, lil' lady?"
"What do you say to putting on some music? It might lighten the urgent mood."
In response, Jazz spins through several radio stations, creating broken static before stopping on a station playing Thunderstruck by AC/DC.
"Hmm, good choice."
★☆★☆★☆★☆★
First chapter done and edited! I'm terribly sorry for not posting the second chapter, but it will be up soon!
Once I've finished the backyard scene...
Please don't raise your wrenches!