Props I
A buzzing noise filled my ears as the five AM alarm on my cell started to go off. Half conscious, I reached under my pillow and turned off the annoying device. Rolling onto my back I rubbed my eyes tiredly and tried to get the rest of my body to wake up. My blue-grey eyes suddenly snapped open and I sat straight up. Looking around the hotel room the studio had rented out from the hotel I saw the cause of my panic: the AllSpark. It wasn't finished! Leaping out of my bed I sprinted across the art supply scattered floor and frantically started to apply the first layer of acrylic paint. Before I knew it my second alarm sounded.
"SHIT!" I cursed loudly checking the time. It was already six. Turning on one of the fans to help dry the paint faster, I ran across the room and grabbed the first pair of jeans I found, which were covered in paint, put on a bra, some deodorant, a pair of dark brown construction boots, an old band t-shirt and my silver rimless glasses.
Running back over to the AllSpark I cursed when I found the paint was still wet. Checking the time I cursed again. It was six ten. I had to be on set in less then half an hour to help set up.
"Fuck this," I cursed as I sat down and started to apply the second coat of paint, this time a different color. The paints mixed but I didn't care. After the second coat I got to my feet and turned on the fan again, this time two of them blowing on the prop, grabbing several more containers of paint I mixed them together quickly and applied more paint. When finished I stepped back from it.
"Fuck it looks like shit," I moaned running my hands through my short red hair. Then a sudden idea struck me. Sprinting into the small kitchen I turned on the gas stove. Picking up the AllSpark, ignoring the paint getting allover my shirt and arms, I ran into the kitchen and held it over the flame.
"YES!" I cheered aloud as the edges of the paint burned and darkened, giving it an ancient and charred look.
Once finished with the 'aging process' I sat it on the table and sighed tiredly, the adrenaline rush wearing off. Checking the time I screamed. It was six forty five. I was late. Grabbing the AllSpark, phone and room key I sprinted out the door and down the hall to the elevator.
"ARGH!" I yelled when I was half way across the lobby. I had completely forgotten the keys to my rental car. Tears of frustration filled my eyes. It was so not my morning.
"You ok Mia?" A familiar voice asked. Whipping around I saw it was Shia LaBeouf. The brown haired twenty two year old smiled down at me. I must have been quite a sight considering my morning.
"Need a ride?" He asked. Shia and I had gotten to be good friends since filming started. It was funny because he always seemed to know what I was thinking and or needed.
"How could you tell?" I replied in a tired and thin voice. He laughed slightly and gave me a ride to the set. We were filming the Hoover Dam scene today, and I was needed on set to help with, obviously, the props and a little bit with special effects.
As the two of us sped down the road I leaned back in my seat, ran my hands through my short hair and sighed loudly.
"Rough morning?" I snorted in response. "Rant away." He said with a smirk. I then proceeded to tell him about my insane morning. Shia laughed when I told him about burning the AllSpark. This earned him a playful smack on my part. Checking the time I groaned. It was seven fifteen.
"Bay's gonna kill me," I moaned as we pulled up to the set.
"No he's not," the young man said as he killed the engine and got out, me right behind him.
Shia was right, Bay didn't kill me…he just made me wish I was dead. Not going into too much detail, I had explosions set off way too close to where I was standing, had to deal with more special effects, pretty much anything having to do with fire and or blowing up, then I was comfortable with, I got last pick during lunch, so all that was left were soggy ham sandwiches. I hate ham sandwiches. Fortunately Josh Duhamel was able to nab me a turkey one. I made a mental note to kiss him later. The worst part? We didn't even use the AllSpark.
At the end of the day I was extremely sore and had a few bruises and cuts where the debris from Bay's beloved explosions when I 'didn't move fast enough'. Not only that, I was forced to stay late to help with clean up. Shia, God bless him, stayed late so he could give me a ride back to the hotel.
"Kill me now," I groaned as he drove the two of us back. He smiled and reached into the backseat of the car while we were at a stoplight.
"Picked this up for you while you were still cleaning up," he said. It was a McDonald's bag. Without thinking, I leaned over and hugged him the best I could.
"I dunno what I'd do without you Shia," I said as I opened the box of nuggets and proceeded to stuff my face.
"Well walking to set and starving are two that I can think of right off," he replied cheekily. I glared at him as several fry's stuck out of my mouth.
"If I wasn't so fucking hungry I'd kill you right now," I growled angrily. Shia laughed and turned into the parking garage of the hotel.
The two of us rode the elevator to my floor and it was there that were parted. I was on the ninth floor and he was on the eleventh.
"Thanks again for everything," I said hugging him.
"Hey it was nothing," he said with a smile. "Don't be late tomorrow!" He yelled as the doors closed. Smiling I walked back to my room, AllSpark in tow, and swiped my key. The lock clicked open and I never thought my room looked so wonderful.
Sitting the AllSaprk on my bed I flopped down on it as well and turned on my computer. Checking my e-mail I replied to the messages a few special effects workers had sent me, most of then thanking me for my help and a few others saying how pissed they were at Bay for torturing me. By the time I finished replying to them it was almost twelve AM. Stretching I changed onto my pajama's and moved the AllSpark to my work desk.
However, as I did this I couldn't help but scrutinize my rushed work. The more I looked it over, the unhappier I became with it. My biggest problem was the paint that had gotten into the patters and symbols I had so meticulously carved in. Sighing I pulled out my etching tools and started to clean the prop.
A/N: This has been rolling around in my head for quite awhile but I just now have gotten around to posting it. I haven't decided on a pairing for this fic yet. So if you have any suggestions, let me know. There is Bay bashing in the beginning of this fic. Don't like? Too bad. I like Bay as a director, but after watching the Making of TF…he kinda comes off as an ass. There will be Mikaela bashing later on as well. I don't dislike Megan Fox, but I HATE Mikaela. Just thought I should let you guys know that right off.