Insignificant Things

Chapter One

One of a million


'The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.
We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.
The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.'

H.P. Lovecraft


Incoming signal detected

Initializing intercommunications link

Link accessible:

Incoming notification received:

Autobot communications admission requested.

Pending acceptance...

Identity requested:

Designation confirmed: Autobot Bumblebee, Special Operations Second Division

Communications link established:

'Jazz, reconnaissance update, the location of Skyfire is still unconfirmed, suggested obstruction due to native dominant life form or post planet impact injury deactivation. There are no leads on Skyfire's primary mission objective either and the signals of the Allspark fragment continue to be too obscure to make out an accurate reading.'

'Ain't the kinda news I wanted Bee-bot. Any leads on native involvement?'

'I have avoided pursuing heavily military screened material due to high risk of detection, but have uncovered human activity found in local incident report files that match Skyfire's original distress signal location and time. Various possibilities have been narrowed down, but recently a single predecessor of the organic designation 'Witwicky' has uploaded data image packs with our language scripted on one specific item, no comprehension detected though. I will be reaching the human's location in a breem and will assess the situation there on.'

'Text decipherable?'

'It looked to be a location print, impossible to get a clear reading though.'

'Any updates on our planet side Con's?'

'Nothing new I'm afraid. Since first detection, Barricade and Frenzy have kept off radar range, but...'

'The chances of em' using dampener fields is pretty high. …Right Bee, keep up recon and I'll notify ya on our ETA.'

'Affirmative Jazz. Bumblebee out.'

End communications link


Sam liked to think of herself as unique. It was a preferable train of thought in comparison to the degrading downward spiral that began when she attempted to analyze herself along the terms that her so called peers enjoyed labeling her as. An only child to an average income earning family, Sam was of slightly below standard height, rather lanky in shape with a rather uninteresting color shade of brown for her hair and eyes, and in the end, she not much different to the thousands of other female teenagers across the world. Unique, was then beginning to look to be a completely inaccurate method of describing Sam.

'Perhaps odd is a better term to associate myself with,' Sam mused brushing a strand of hair out of her face, tips of her fingers barely missing a pair of scissors that snipped close by.

"Whoa Sam. I'm trying to cut your hair here. Not your hand. Anyway, like I was just sayin-"

The brunette who was currently perched upon a flat stool, half listened her closest friend as he rambled on about the unnecessary needs of being involved in the young social lives of school and how being an outcast was an important place to view their fellow man.

Sam contemplated describing Miles as odd, her mind once again delving into the topic of social classifications and where her exact position was in that undefined hierarchy. The taller long haired blonde male definitely did not seem to mind being on the lower end of the food chain at school, choosing to do as he pleased. Sam at times wished she had that type of simplistic candor instead of concerning herself with certain outward behavioral appearances.

The regular rhythm of snipping filled the summer atmosphere and Sam tuned out of her High School related thoughts to consider something much more preferable. The girl's eyes flickered towards an old Chevy truck that lay parked further along the road and she internally sighed, 'It's just been delayed… calm down girl.'

'Ack!'

Sam winced suddenly as Miles accidently yanked on her hair with more force than what he had been doing before.

"Oh opps, sorry!"

"Don't worry Miles," Sam chipped in, remembering to reframe from gripping her head due to the pair of scissors Miles waved around. Instead, the girl used the break to move her face away from the afternoon sun's glare, turning to look back towards the blonde's questionable backyard. That many doggie chew toys made her wonder if Miles just happened to spoil his dog more than her mother spoilt their family's Chihuahua. Although tortured was Sam's preferred method of describing her mother's actions towards the poor animal.

"So is all the gum out?" she asked tearing her eyes away from a rather 'loved' pink teddy bear.

She felt Miles quickly sift through her now very short hair before replying.

"Looks like we're all sweet here. You know, that wasn't too different to when I was washing and trimming Mason's hair."

Sam pretended to look offended and huffed. "Thanks for relating cutting my hair to washing your dog Miles."

"No problem." Miles grinned, removing the face towel he had laid across her shoulders in mimicry to a hairdresser's action. "Man, you know your Mum's gonna freak right? And do you know how weird it is that your hairs' shorter than mine."

Sam waved of Miles worry, glancing shortly at her friends shoulder length hair.

"Miles, my hair was always shorter than yours. Now, it's just… shorter-er. And all I have to tell Mum is that I got gum in my hair by accident so I cut it, she can't complain"

Actually there was no accident in the involvement of a particular chewable substance and her hair, and both Sam and Miles knew this. A certain someone at her High School decided that Sam required a new hair accessory, but Sam knew her mother did not need to know that bit of detail. Even Miles knew how attentive her Mom was to her, lack of social ability and how because of said habit, often pushed her daughter to expand her group of friends, or friend. Considering her place in the popularity hierarchy made all of the above a little bit difficult and Sam would rather avoid giving her Mom more unnecessary headaches. The fact that Sam didn't want to be persuaded with additional attempts to hang out more with other class mates was totally not the issue.

"Anyway," Sam continued as she yanked her jacket on, "I doubt ice or any gum removing method would have worked with how well Trent rubbed it into my hair."

Miles made a face at that. "Man that was nasty, but you know you really shouldn't have called him a jackass."

"But-"

"Don't mean you need to call one,"

Sam huffed. "Miles! Said jackass shoves and locks you into lockers!"

With the towel restraint out of the way, the silently fuming girl had an easier time to feel and pet her own hair, getting a sense for its new length. It was definitely off her shoulders now, not that it ever reached the length of Mile's hair and was closer to her ears in length. That was just a little concerning, and Sam hoped she didn't take on the appearance of a boy. It was bad enough that she received mocking for her lack of growth and choice of clothing.

Sam had thought today would be a good day considering she had finally reached her father's minimum cash quota for a car. Something she had been begging him for months. The last thing on his check list was an acceptable mark on her report which depended on an assignment she had done earlier that afternoon. Not that her class speech was horrid. Actually her teacher had both enjoyed and been looking forward to the report assignment, especially after receiving a detailed speech proposal via email describing Sam's great great grandfather's exploration and findings in the arctic. The proposal submission was unusual for Sam, but the girl had wanted to get the report just right. Nothing was going to stop her from getting a car.

In the end, Sam could have kissed her teacher the instant she saw her mark and the moment the bell rang the short haired brunette flung herself out of the classroom, practically sprinting to the same place her father usually picked her up at. Whichever higher power ran the universe that day decided to end the girl's happy streak there and then.

Quite brilliantly in fact, since the moment she had turned a second corner in one of the school halls Sam had slammed face first into the bulking chest of Trent the High School's well recognized and loved top Jock, causing him to drop his own bag of personal school items all over the corridor. Things went downhill embarrassingly fast from there on.

"I'm surprised I still fit in those…"

"Miles!" Sam groaned.

"I'm serious! You'd think I would have grown over the ye-"

A high pitched sound tweeted out cutting all conversation.

Sam's short fuse spiked at the interruption and she fumbled with one of the pockets on her worn pants before flipping open her buzzing and ringing mobile, tucking it immediately to her ear.

"What do you want?" she growled.

Then she squeaked.

Miles peered at Sam questionably before he smirked at her sudden hectic apology aimed at her father on the other end of the line. "Sorry Dad! Nonono! Of course I still want to buy my car today. Sorry. Sorry." The teenage boy decided to give her some privacy and set to clean up the impromptu hair cut studio.

There was a moment of silence when Miles returned. Sam, who was still fixated on her mobile, was standing still with both hands grasping the phone to her ear. She broke the silence with a sudden squeal of uncontrolled happiness. Miles was reminded that her friend, although majority of the time an ambiguous geeky female, could still behave very much like the popular cheerleader, especially with her impressive vocal pitch range. He was brought out of his amused thinking when she slammed into him, a violent hug and tug at his limbs as she excitedly rambled her father's agreement to a certain car shopping that while initially would have been delayed due to a certain 'gum incident', was back on track.

"Miles! I'm getting my car today! Today! Oh my God! Today! YesYesYes! Remember! It's all about Freedom Miles! Get the Money. Get the Car. And Get the FREEDOM! The open road. FREEDOM MILES!"

Miles had a feeling his left ear would be ringing for a while after his friend left.


Sam's enthusiasm had lowered considerably by the time her Father had picked her up from Miles's home and parked in front of a second hand car store, especially after a particular prank that he had pulled on the way. Thus, her current emotion wasn't a controlled excited anticipation anymore, but rather a horrified denial at the 'chop shop' that lay before her. As far as the hair incident went over, all Sam got from her father was a weary; you're going to be explaining that to your Mother. Then again, the older man had always been a lot more accepting of Sam's eccentric nature. Sam though, was still often thrown into the deep end with her father's tastes. Like the situation now.

Was it even legal to have a sign that states finest quality before those… metal hunks?

"Dad?"

"Yes sweetie" Ron Witwicky wasn't known to be a man that successfully understood the females that lived under his roof, so he could be excused for misinterpreting his daughter's questioning tone.

"So… umm… Bolivia's Auto Sales huh?"

He could also be excused for not reading his daughter's badly concealed horrified facial expression since he was also concentrating on parking.

"It's great isn't it!" The man bolstered, clearly pleased with himself, "Although the cars are a bit old and worn, it's perfect for a first car! Trust me this is what having a first car is all about. Remember the-"

"B-but Dad!" Sam interrupted, she had to get her opinion in, "Will they even- I mean, look at the state they're in! It's like these are the cars left over from 'Demolition Derby from Hell'. Come on Dad! I can't-"

"Samantha…" Her father finally turned her direction, lecturing tone mixed with an exasperated amusement, the car engine idling down before silencing as he slipped the key out. The adult waited with practiced patience for Sam's run away thoughts to calm down to a halt before continuing, "Now Samantha, it is your first car. Remember the Witwicky motto! 'No Sacrifice, No-"

"No Victory Dad… yeah I know." Sam took a deep breath, there was no point arguing now that her Dad was insistent on this particular store.

The Witwicky daughter let her Father walk on into the car yard before her as she snapped shut the car door and gazed from one end of the second hand store to the other.

'More like fifth hand car store' the girl grumbled internally. Truthfully though, she was grateful. Her father had agreed to pay for half of her new car which was more than she had originally thought and she had already known that anything she was going to buy for that particular amount of money wasn't going to be brand new. But Sam had hoped for something a little better than what lay before her.

'Is that car completely rusted through?' She thought in horror, eyes hooked on a once light blue jeep was stuck in between two other very questionable cars.

"So what do you think?"

Sam turned to face her Dad restraining any form of a snarky retort in front his extremely pleased mood.

"It's… uh… great."

"Then what are you waiting for! Go on. Pick your car."

Sam was ushered away as who she presumed was the owner of the second hand car store approached her father.

Right, Sam thought skimming through the selection of cars available. Just pick a car Sam… hopefully one that will last longer than the drive home.

It could be said with much confidence that there had not ever been one car mechanic throughout the entire Witwicky bloodline. Doctors, Archeologists, Lecturers and Engineers, yes, but not one single descendant or blood relation had even labeled 'tinkering' with cars as a hobby. There was that one uncle on Sam's mother's side of the family, but he had married in and then out and the general consensus was that you didn't speak of him.

Of course Sam could separate the differences between Trent's Hummer and her father's car, car brands were easy enough, as well as price tags. She could clearly see if one engine was new and the other perhaps not so much, and make an educated guess that one engine had more cylinders or something than another. But sadly that was the extent of her knowledge… regardless of what she said to others.

'At least with new cars they label the features…' Sam moaned, passing a pickup truck and an old Toyota. '…and in this situation I would at least be able to tell mangled car to car able to legally drive on the road without brea-'

Sam paused.

Oh hello…

It was an old Camaro, of that Sam was certain. Approaching the car for a closer inspection she noted quite individual features, like black racing stripes and was that a bumblebee hanging of the interior mirror? Overall the yellow Camaro had definitely seen better days, but in comparison to many of the other cars in the store it stood out, not in a brilliant manner but in its old sports car design and faded coloring. It definitely wasn't as rusted through or dusty either.

Sam was hooked, good mood back with a vengeance and as she settled herself down in the driver's seat she explored the interior with enthusiasm. The girl was happily amused with finding out that it really was a small bumblebee air freshener ornament that hung by the rear view mirror stating the words 'BEE-OTCH' underneath.

It was only by accident though that she discovered another unique addition on the steering wheel of the Camaro. It was slightly dusted over but under closer inspection, that and Sam used her jacket sleeve to polish up the center of the wheel, revealed a deep red humanoid facial symbol. Well, that was the conclusion Sam came to as she ran her fingers over the decal.

Well that's definitely not the Chevrolet symbol…

So caught up with her examination of the car, Sam jerked when her father's voice rang through the air.

"Samantha! You picked something you liked?"

The brunette swung her head up and noted her father approaching with the owner.

"Y-yeah! This one Dad!"

The reply was barely out of her mouth when Sam's eyes were torn back down to the very odd symbol.

Definitely this one…


Dispatching message log:

Receiver: Autobot Bumblebee, Special Operations Second Division

Transmitter: Autobot Lieutenant Jazz, Special Operations Commander

'ETA: 3 Joors.'


Author notes, aka: CRAP RAMBLING

Ahem… So… I'm giving the whole 'What if Sam was a female" a shot.

Also I've never written fanfiction, but here we are. Gives me something else to do while I contemplate the argumentative topics of certain unnamed essays that need to be completed.

Oh yeah… So like… storyline will only kinda follow film storyline. Ok? …ok…

I am going to try my hardest to keep Sam (Samantha's) behavior true to her male counterpart and hopefully stay as far away from her being an injected 'mary sue'. Which actually turned out to be harder than I first thought. Haha… damn I'm an idiot diving off the deep end here. Like okay, first wall in face moment: what is Sam's URGE (excuse) to buy a car. Cos unless I'm going to turn her into a lesbian with an unhealthy attraction to Mikaela (or other well endowed females) I had to come up with something else less male hormone driven.

SOOO Sam(ANTHA) is going to be as dorky as Sam, and as awkward, unorganized, geeky, scared… yeah… BEWARE.

I apologize in advanced that this is not beta'd or checked over by eyes other than my own...

Did you guys know that Mason is the actual name of the dog that played Miles's dog in the 07 film? ...just ya know... random unnecessary information.