Why? Because I could. I admit this has probably been done before, but hopefully not in this particular format. I also admit that I have never thought of Transformers and Sonic to be exceptionally compatible concepts- but I was inspired and therefore it had to be written... And drawn, but you wouldn't know that. Would Blurr actually be able to keep up with Sonic? I don't know. Suspend your disbelief for me.

Vertigo

"3."

It was to be a race of champions. A contest of greats that would forever be remembered. Whether in written history or in the mere traditions of children's bedtime stories would not matter. It would be the sort of tournament that had God's of ancient Greece leaning over their balconies and scrying out the mortal land, just to watch, just to see the force of man or nature take its hold over the earth and soil.

But neither man nor natures were present at this earthly contest.

The finish line lay out of sight, a full continent away from where the contestants stood, the shoreline lapping at their feet. The world stood still for them, though how it stood still was another matter entirely. It held it's breath, waiting with collective anticipation for this race to end all races- but this mattered not for the two who participated in it. The world itself slowed on its rotation for these two. They were faster than it, faster than anything else.

Except possibly each other.

"2."

One was small, even by the estimate of a human. Smaller than the average human child. He stood as if he knew the world, ruled it, but knew he held no claim to it. He was a drifter, and happily so. It showed in the very way he moved. His stance was laid back, betraying not the slightest tenseness, but ready to spring at a moment's notice- nearly an art form, perfected by a lifetime of practice.

The other was tall, several times the height of the average human, though he was small by the estimation of his species. He too was laid back, but held none of the cockiness that his counterpart did. This one verily overflowed with bubbly, nervous energy, rather than the calm, ready-to-spring energy of the other. This one was ready to race, every bit as much as the other, but it showed more; in the way he moved, in the expression of his face, it showed.

The larger of the two looked down at his competitor and smirked. Who would be the victor? Both where assured it would be him. This race would tell who was right, and who merely wallowed in self-delusion.

"1."

There would be no tensing, no minute twitch to indicate that either was about to move. Both were better than that. They were in perfect control of everything they did. It was a secondary contest, of sorts, to see who could cut it closest and still start moving first. It was a challenge, an unspoken one. It all was. Challenges were rare in the world of the supersonic.

True challenges were even more rare. The small one had only ever had challenges in clones and copies, and the big one hardly ever had any. It was exciting, thrilling. To cut truly cut loose in an all out competition for who was fastest- no holds barred, no clones, no copies, no betting, no emotional barriers… just the sheer exhilarating speed.

And no matter the victor, they both knew they would enjoy every moment of it. After all, it wasn't every day persons as exceptional in their field as them met someone on the same bar. They waited with veiled anticipation, waiting, for that call, in 3…

2…

1…

"Go!"