I would like to begin by saying that Optimus Prime is my hero!  And he has been since I was little. I grew up on Beast Wars, I dabbled in G1 and RiD with my babysitter, and Armada was like reliving my childhood whenever I saw it.  The new movie kicks major aft and compelled me to write some fanfiction to vent the awesomeness out of my brain.

I try to pick a theme for each of my stories.  This time it's communication.  Which makes my title somewhat humorous.  I'm not exactly trying to write a comedy here, but if it turns out intermittently funny, cool.  I would like to keep things hovering a few feet off the ground rather than flying off into space though. (coughStarscreamcough)

I don't own Transformers or profit from this crazy adventure in anyway.

My chapters tend to be short, but the first one is a double. Enjoy!

Ratchet's Big Night Out

When Ratchet received the cryptic transmission, he didn't quite know what to make of it. Its suspicious nature sorely tempted him to ask Optimus Prime to come with him.

Unfortunately for Autobot protocol (and one Prowl, who at that very moment had a violent, inexplicable spasm of disapproval millions of miles away) Ratchet had always harbored a curious streak as long as Cybertron's solar orbit.  Judging the risk to be minimal, given that humans didn't know much about Autobots and that Optimus wasn't really that far away, he relayed a quick summary of his intentions to Ironhide and found himself at the designated place three hours before the designated time. Alone.

He began by making a compilation of scans that detailed his surroundings.  As a medic, Ratchet possessed a wide range of the finest, most powerful short range scanners Cybertron had ever seen and the sensory processing speed to back them up.  By the time 21:01:16 rolled around, he had analyzed and documented everything there was to know about the surrounding area from radiation readings to pollen levels in the air to the diet of the cactus wren, whose excrement had landed entirely too close to his left mirror for comfort.

After another 8.67 minutes Ratchet idly wondered if he had shown up perhaps a bit too early. He had intended to be there before the human was entirely prepared to receive him, but it was beginning to dawn on him that he may have shown up prematurely because he had nothing better to do. Just as he was settling into a review of his lately (and thankfully, given his occupation) lackluster schedule, the rumble of an automobile engine entered his sensory range.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one who wasn't nearly busy enough.

-Agent Simmons on a Date with his Ego-

Agent Simmons had had enough. Enough of pushing papers in some legitimate and decidedly un-secret section of the government. Enough of pretending there were no giant alien robots on the doorstep of humanity.  Enough of drinking the disgusting slop his boss's secretary made when he should be having double-venti macchiatos.  But mostly he had had enough of waiting for something to happen.

If there was one thing Agent Albrecht Simon Simmons was good at, it was sticking his large, beaky nose into very secretive business.  He knew exactly how terrified the higher-ups were, not so much of giant Non-Biological Extraterrestrials, but of the existence of giant, Non-Biological Extraterrestrials.  They- capital They- were quaking in their sock garters with terror over the possibility of a car walking up to them and saying hello. So they did nothing but hold secret cocktail hours where everyone looked over their martinis with wide eyes and as a rule only exchanged vague, shapeless statements which avoided the issue as neatly as possible.

So now Agent Simmons was driving down a back road in Nevada with the former Secretary of Defense (and current Chief of Staff) John Keller, in his front seat looking grave.  And for the very same reasons former S7 Agent Tom Banachek along with the current Secretary of Defense, the head of the FBI, the Secretary of Homeland Security, and high school senior Samuel James Witwicky were stuffed, fuming and feeling extremely awkward, in the back of his government- issue black SUV.  Sadly, his aide was visiting his sick mother rather than driving a second car. He would have enjoyed this.

Simmons smirked as he neared his father's old campsite. Not nearly secret enough by his standards, but it would have to do for the preliminaries.  He was glad he'd started collecting his passengers early; he was running later than expected due to their stubbornness and the attitude of Witwicky's little girlfriend, but he should still have time to explain things before the arrival of the guest of honor.

As he wound down the overgrown lane, Simmons regressed to fond memories of being driven here with his sisters and their friends.  Of all the gossip he'd overheard, unseen under a layer of ferns as they talked by the campfire. Of being chased up a tree in the ravine by the angry horde after being discovered hanging their bras all over the campsite.  Of staying in that tree for three nights until they finally forgot he was up there, and sneaking to a gas station to call his parents for extraction…

A frown creased his brow as he rounded the final bend to see a yellow and red fire-rescue Hummer parked at the far side of the clearing facing the entrance. Hearing the boy in the back stifle a snicker, Simmons inwardly cursed the giant alien robot medic.  He filed this breach in top-secret alien robot etiquette away for later; this Autobot was clearly a devious one.  NBE Ratchet was clearly trying to make things difficult for him by showing up over two and a half hours early, not giving him time to debrief his guests privately.

Agent Simmons schooled his features as he parked some distance away, but still facing the camouflaged Autobot.  He WOULD maintain control of the situation.  He smiled his most charming smile as he turned around in his seat to face his passengers, unlocking the vehicle doors.

"Gentlemen, it's time to talk."

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

How was that for a setup?

Let me see, what should I warn you guys about… Oh yeah. More characters?  I may or may not revive Jazz due to the rumors flying around.  He is still offline as of the beginning of this story.  I love him, but if he is going to come back, he's going to get an entrance worth waiting for. Not going to turn people into robots.  That's pretty standard, since this isn't an anyone-centric kind of fic.  I'm also not going to make up any robots; I love the old ones too much.  Is everyone and their mom going to show up from Cybertron?  No.  I don't need everyone's mom in the story and I can't deal with that many characters.  I guarantee some arrivals, good and bad, but definitely some ugly.  Ratchet is going to kill me.  New people?  I like the film cast fine.  I think I'll use them.  I've made up some old fogies to do important stuff and I cameo as usual, but no major OCs, thank Primus.

You may have noticed but sometimes I make stuff up. I'm ok with that. For instance: Simmons's full name. I just wanted his initials to be A.S.S. If you want to know if something is true or an authorism, read my notes and feel free to ask. I won't lie to you twice.

Enjoy the fic and please review!

But first, meet Retrospect! He's a transforming time machine with some disco style. He allows me to go back in time and write fictional robots into all of my chapters from the beginning… for a price of bellbottoms!