Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, Shawn, or the story itself. Youko-kun was kind enough to allow me to continue the story Mechanic. My apologies if this turns out badly. I will be changing some things, but I will try to keep the original story that I fell in love with.
A small yelp rang out through the oddly silent repair shop, followed by a clang of something metal crashing into something else made of metal. A door burst open by the force of a small rollerblade smashing into it, seemingly propelled by tiny motors. A tall man followed closely after, the other rollerblade tightly in hand. Giving chase, the man's shaggy medium-length mud-brown hair whipped at his face, stands held there by askew black goggles on his head. His black and blue striped hoodie clung loosely on his shoulders, revealing a tight black tank top underneath. Belts and buckles held a modified tool belt loosely to his side, attached to black camouflage cargo pants rolled up to his knees. Regular white socks adorned his feet, making soft pat noises as he ran. His dark brown eyes sparkled with mirth as the runaway rollerblade hit a wall, actually sped up it vertically for a few feet, then dropped onto its side and spun wildly in circles on the floor.
The man chuckled as he nabbed the rollerblade from the floor and hit a button on the side, turning off the motors. "It seems I'll have to make the sensitivity of the motors less or even dropping the skate will cause it to start up and shoot off again," He mumbled to himself. A sudden beep rang through the room, coming from a small mesh circle on the ceiling.
"Hey Shawn? Where you at? We got a customer." A young male voice came from the mesh circle, obviously a P.A. system.
The man picked up a small radio nearby. Hitting a button he said, "I'll be right there Greg, give me a few to put some shoes on." Walking swiftly back to the room, the man known as Shawn dropped the rollerblades on a shelf. The shelves were full of small electronic devices and odd contraptions. In the corner, what looked like a small cell phone mixed with an I-pod sat. Picking it up, Shawn swiftly pulled some worn out but comfortable runners from under his desk and slipped them on.
Walking through a couple of doors, he entered a room that looked like a car garage but with more computers. One garage door was open, showing off some newly painted and decaled vehicles. Walking over to a front desk of sorts, Shawn leaned on the counter as a young man, no older than 19 looked up at him. "Your customer is over there."
Turning to a corner of the garage, a bright smile lit Shawn's face. "Sam!" The teenage boy in question was leaning on a 1976 Chevrolet Camaro, a broad grin on his face. Shawn ran over and leaned on the hood of the car, inspecting the paint and design. Letting out a low whistle, Shawn turned to Sam. "Your dad actually bought you a nice car? The world is going to end!"
Sam laughed and punched him in the arm. "Yah well, when it's the only car in the lot with windows, he had no choice but to take it."
Shawn Conners and Sam Witwicky had been friends since they were small. The age difference of 4 years didn't really affect them until Shawn graduated and went to college. Since Sam stayed in Tranquility and Shawn now lived in Mission City with a new shop, they rarely got to see each other. The new wheels on Sam's side would definitely remedy that.
"So how many girls do you think I can pick up with this guy?" Sam jabbed a thumb at the car as Shawn walked around it, inspecting every detail.
"You want my honest opinion or my It-wont-hurt-your-feelings opinion?" Shawn grinned at Sam's face as he ran his hands along the black line on the hood. It felt oddly warm.
"I'll take honest for 100 Jim."
They laughed and leaned on the hood, getting comfortable. "Well I'd say, none."
Shawn grinned at Sam's face. "What? This guy has to be a major lady magnet."
Putting on a mock-sorrow face, Shawn lightly patted the teenagers shoulder. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble but most girls go for the shiny new cars then the old junkers from 30 years ago. Only hardcore Car babes would be drawn in by him and they are in rare supply these days." They shared a laugh and proceeded to catch up with each other. "So, Greg said you were a customer. What did you come in for? Besides coming to see me."
Shawn grinned at the boy as Sam swatted him again. "I wanted to get a new paint job. His is all scratched and chicks don't dig that."
Nodding, Shawn took a look at the paint again, finding scratches and marks in the most unusual places where you'd have to be creative to hit. He has also noticed that the paint seemed to have a inner shine, almost like the paint has metals added in it to make it sparkle. "I don't know what I can do man, that paint it has now seems really expensive and rare. I could strip it but then you'd lose that nice sparkle he has." Shawn must have imagined it but the car seemed to raise itself up on its axels, like it was preening at the praise.
"Really? Most paint doesn't have that?" Sam leaned on the hood, trying to catch the sparkle.
"'Fraid so. Most cars sparkle from the waxing and shiner used, but this guy actually has paint that sparkles on him. It's unreal; I've never seen a paint job like that before." His friend seemed to wilt at the prospect of no new paint.
"Oh well. Maybe the girls won't notice the scratches." Sam went to the drives door and opened it, taking a step in. Shawn leaned on the door, grinning at him.
"You can always hope." Waving goodbye, Sam drove slowly out of the garage. Shawn called after him, "Call me more, would yah?" He laughed as Sam waved an affirmative and almost drove his Camaro into the ditch.
