Ok, here's a sucky fanfiction for you all. I don't own transformers and I'm sorry if the chapter is too short. Here you go.
Trent was... not normal.
Normal people don't see colours.
Normal people don't see things before they happen.
And most importantly, normal people don't get crazy feelings that make them do stupid things.
Like now, for instance.
Trent was currently located in a used car lot a couple minutes away from his school, standing in front of a crappy, majorly junked up Volkswagen Type 183, more commonly known as an Iltis. Which, according to the thrice damned gut feeling, needed to be bought. By him.
After at least four attempts to leave, all of which resulted in failure, he resigned himself to the fact that he probably was not going to leave this crappy little car lot without the crappy little car.
Dammit.
"Well, ya look like ye'r thinkin' about somethin' over here, man! What's ye'r name?"
He turned to the annoyingly cheerful car salesman.
"...Trent."
"Well, Trent, my man! The name's Bobby Bolivia- like the country, just without the runs, haha!- and I am honoured, just honoured that you chose my humble little car lot for your driving needs. Now, I have a car over here-"
"How much is the Iltis?"
Trent leaned against the hood of the military vehicle, raising an eyebrow at the practically mangled car.
The salesman looked confused.
"Now where the hell...? Oi! Manny! What the hell's this doin' here?"
A mexican man dressed in mechanic's clothing stuck his head out of a window and yelled something rather rude sounding in spanish, to which the car salesman simply replied, "Five thousand."
No way was he going to pay five grand for a junked up piece of shit.
"Two thousand."
The tubby man placed a hand over his heart, staggering around as if in pain.
"You wound me, Trent, man! Stealing, you're stealing from me- no less than four thousand."
"Two fifty, and if it gets any higher than that, I'm walking away. This car is shit-" the car rolled backwards, just far enough for Trent's hand to slide of the hood and send him tumbling to the floor, "-And apparently, the brakes suck too."
Thinking on what had happened last time he tried to deny a customer, the sleazy man quickly agreed, and Trent found himself the owner of a not so brand new antiquated military vehicle.
He accepted the keys from the other man and hopped into the driver's seat, inserting the keys into the ignition.
"Ok, Clusterfuck, let's see if you work.."
He turned the key and... nothing. Not even a turn over. He tried again, and a third time, but came up with the same results.
Trent groaned and face planted on the steering wheel.
"Lookit here, Clusterfuck, we go two options. Either you get working for me, all nice and pretty, or I'll be forced to shove a tow cable up your ass. Easy way or the hard way?"
He turned the key a fourth time, and this time the engine roared to life with no stops or stutters.
Unfortunately, so did the radio.
"They call me girl, They call me Stacey. They call me her, They call me Jane. That's not my name. That's not my name. That's not my name. That's not my name!"
"Good Clusterfuck-"
If anything, the radio got louder. Trent was starting to think that he'd gotten... in a little over his head, what with buying a seemingly possessed car and all... Did he mention the car, now turned on, had colours? Inanimate objects, in his experience, did not have colours. Ever.
"Fine. You're name's not Clusterfuck, I get it. Why I'm not more freaked out about my car objecting to it's name I don't understand."
And then, Trent attempted to drive. Keyword being 'attempted'.
As soon as he moved to shift the gears, the stick jumped out of his hand and shifted by itself.
Trent was starting to regret listening to his gut feeling...
I always thought that somewhere, deep down inside, Trent wasn't a jerk. Now, I realize that it's probably somewhere really the deep fuckin' down inside, but all he needs is a little something to... jar it loose, and Mr. Clusterfuck is the perfect tool to do it. Reviews would be appreciated, seeing as if I don't get any I'm going to assume that no one wants to read this.