I had no idea I was such a Fanfiction noob.
*All the characters fold their arms and glare*
What? I can't help it! Everytime I made an account there was a three-day waiting period and I forgot my password. I know, I'm pathetic.
*Still staring at the others, who are glaring at her* There is definitely something wrong with the structure of the story, I just can't figure it out because I'm a writing noob, as well. If you can pin it down, feel free to criticize. ^__^
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The November sky was surprisingly clear and dark, full of glittering stars that peered out from the blue-black depths to wink at the town below, although they did nothing to warm the town. Normally blistering and hot, it was currently blanketed in an uncomfortable coldness that was only the beginning of a long winter.
A lone old man living on the outskirts of town sat on his back porch and drank a beer, humming a low tune as he listened to the night noises from the semi-wildness around him and contemplated his success in life. Robert Stillel had worked his whole life as a government scientist in many fields, examining anything and everything the government deemed interesting or suspicious. Being well-learned in various fields of science, he had reduced the government's need to involve more scientists and thus the risk of exposure concerning certain classified projects. He had more than earned his right to retire to this luxury cabin on the outskirts of the city, where he could appreciate nature and still reach a library or movie theatre in fifteen minutes tops.
Still, leave it to fate to perform the ultimate act of irony by leaving him out of the Mission City project. What he had and probably still was missing was like a knife to his gut, twisting every time he thought about it. He was more qualified than anyone to be on that project, so why was it that he had only heard about it from a friend who had dared to trust him with the confidential secret? He tried to console himself with the fact that he'd been successful in life and had everything he wanted...
It was very little comfort.
It was only fitting, perhaps Divine Intervention he would later think, that he be the only witness to the ball of flames that shot across the sky like a comet, growing ever larger in his field of vision until it collided violently with the earth about a quarter of a mile away. He shot out of his rocking chair, but was thrown back into it not a second later by a massive rumble that shook his house violently like an earthquake, shattering glasses and causing his window panes to vibrate.
It lasted for a couple seconds before all was silent, and the only thing he could hear was the sound of fizzing beer sloshing out of the can as it rolled across the porch and off the edge. The only thing he could see as he squinted at the field of wheat across the street was smoke... at first.
Still peering anxiously for any signs of fire, he saw a shadowy silhouette rise against the light of the city, huge... it had to be huge, if he could see it that well from that distance. It then seemed to shrink before his very eyes, disappearing into the darkness of the land until there was nothing but smoke and sudden silence from the forest animals that had been chattering animatedly not ten minutes before.
"What the heck was that?" He squawked to the still air, but of course, received no reply. He squinted at the crash site for all of five minutes before he got up from his rocking chair with a groan and walked across the porch of his two-story luxury cabin. A moment later he descended the steps with keys in hand, got into his dark blue Nissan FairLady and sat for a moment, indecisive.
"Screw the damn authorities. I want samples first," He muttered to himself, returning to the house to get his basic chemical analysis kit. A few moments later he was driving over the rough terrain, headed for the crash site and cringing about the dirt he would see on his brand new sports car, but figuring he would live since he had owned a piece-of-shit F150 a majority of his life.
When he arrived at the crash site, he was disappointed to find only a large furrow-like hole in the ground where the meteor had crashed, and then... not so disappointed. A meteor certainly couldn't disintegrate from the force, could it? According to the shape, size, and depth of the furrow, the meteor was too large to have been disintegrated from the collision, yet it was nowhere to be found. And what about that odd shape he'd seen rising from the crater? It would've been quite curious if he hadn't heard about the Mission city project.
Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, he calculated the time and began collecting generous samples of dirt and moisture from various points in and around the furrow, some in sample tubes and others with fabric pads which were then sealed in plastic bags. He weighed his kit after all the sample tubes were in it and, subtracting the previous weight of the kit, thought he might've collected about five pounds of dirt. It would have to do.
He finished by taking dozens of snapshots from dozens of angles, and then glanced at his watch. He figured he'd spent half an hour down here studying the crash site and decided it was time to go inform the authorities before his waiting period made him suspicious. He had no doubt he was treading on dangerous ground by simply collecting samples, and took care to leave no trace of evidence behind. He'd tell them it took him a while to get dressed and then he'd had to stop for gas along the way, since he'd just filled his tank up not three hours before.
On his way back to his car he tripped over something hard and face planted, nearly losing all his carefully collected samples. After assuring that they'd remained intact, he searched for the object he'd tripped over and found a twisted piece of unusual looking metal. He took it, too.
IOh this is just too good to be true,/I Stillel thought gleefully as he started his car and did a U-turn to head back towards the road in front of his house.
He was unaware of the looming shadow that hid itself within the trees a dozen yards away, watching as he sped off in his expensive sports car.
Not ten minutes after he had driven away, a dark blue Nissan FairLady drove across the wild terrain from the crash site, encountered the road, and immediately headed for the city at high speed.
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A flashy semi-truck sat idling on a wide residential street that was deserted save for the occasional late night driver, smoke spouting in puffs above it's cab. There were several mechanical, gutteral noises that almost formed a pattern as the semi-truck, who was Optimus Prime in disguise, grumbled to himself in Cybertronian.
[What's taking him so long?] Optimus muttered, then fell silent as a shiny red Volkswagon ambled past. He scanned it, but found it to be a normal Human-made car devoid of a spark. The rig sighed and cut his engines, wondering yet again why his companion was so late.
He'd been pleasantly surprised at the speed in which some of his conrads responded to his radio transmission, even if their response had been dozens of questions that he just couldn't answer until they landed. Of the four he'd gotten in touch with, three were still waiting for an opportune moment and location to land, while one had already been in the perfect spot to descend and was supposedly on his way to Optimus' location disguised as a Human vehicle.
Trust him not to mention just what vehicle make and model he had chosen, leaving Optimus to scan every car, truck, and van that rumbled past. Two more cars drove past in the span of two and a half hours, both of them native and driven by Humans. Optimus practically deflated on his tires as time passed and the night grew old.
"Before you ask, I made the mistake of taking a shortcut. Is 'shortcut' a Human term for 'endless maze'?" A cheery voice inquired, cracking the silence of the night, as a midnight blue Nissan FairLady pulled up beside Optimus and cut it's engines.
[Cybertronian, if you will, Bluestreak.] Optimus inwardly winced at his loud companion. [I see you took my advice and searched the internet.]
[Oh, right. I had to get directions somewhere... I also found some amusing video capture of Human activity. Youtube, I believe the site is called. Who knew there was another species out there with such a sense of humor? They also seem to enjoy hurting and scaring themselves.] Bluestreak sounded quite puzzled by the last portion of his statement.
[Not unlike our Cybertronian younglings. They are quite a... versatile species. They are young and--
[Prolific. No wonder there's so many of them here.]
[How did you come by that information?] The semi demanded in a scolding tone that parents usually reserved for their children.
[Well, there was this interesting site called T& and the little symbol in the middle made me curious, so I--]
[I can't believe you looked at that site. The home page alone should be an indicator of it's... unusual content.] Optimus quickly exited the site.
[If I didn't know any better I'd say you were embarassed. Did your flaming paint job suddenly get brighter?] Bluestreak snickered hysterically at his own joke for a couple seconds before Optimus cut him off with an interesting topic change.
[Let's get going. The others are waiting in a junkyard near Sam's house.] The semi-truck rumbled to life and started down the road.
[Sam?]
[Yes, I believe I mentioned him. He's the one that, against all odds, defeated Megatron, saving my life in the process.]
[Sounds like quite a story. You never told me he defeated Megatron... he must be some warrior,] Bluestreak commented, surprise evident in his voice as he started his engine and trailed after his leader, who was already several yards ahead of him.
There was an odd whirring sound as Optimus chuckled, secretly agreeing. Youngling though he was, Sam was a remarkable Human.
[I'll brief you on the way there...]
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Three Cybertronian warriors stood towering over the various junkyard cars around them, keeping a watch out for suspicious activity, but still doing their own things to relieve their impatience and boredom. Ironhide was doing a routine inspection of his canons, his third one that night; Ratchet was doing a routine inspection of the other two, thankfully his first; Bumblebee was surfing the web and watching the junkyard entrance.
[Jazz would be going crazy right about now,] Ironhide muttered gruffly, his tone devoid of sadness... but the fact that he had mentioned it was proof enough.
[I disagree. All that "Urban Culture" he downloaded went to his head. He'd probably be... what's the term...] Ratchet muttered as he scanned Bumblebee.
"Darius Jones tried to breakdance his way into Americon Idol last week--" A cheery voice announced from Bee's radio.
[Yes, that's what it was. Breakdancing.] Ratchet nodded and continued his scan, then looked up, startled. [Don't tell me your vocal chords are still damaged!]
[Just kidding.] Bee grinned and folded his arms, leaning back against a small crane, which rattled against his weight but held firm.
Ratchet grunted while Ironhide and Bee shared a smirk.
[Incoming vehicles,] Bumblebee noted, straightening and staring intently at the road as two pairs of headlights illuminated it.
Ratchet and Ironhide looked up as well, but as the two vehicles drew closer, they returned to their scans.
[It's just Optimus and Bluestreak.] Ironhide grumbled, not glancing up again until the two were actually sitting in front of them.
[I see you guys missed me.] The Nissan stated, before transforming into his Autobot mode. [What's all this about Jazz?]
[You didn't tell him?] Ratchet asked Optimus as he transformed out of his semi-truck alt mode.
[I had only just gotten to the part where Megatron thawed.]
[But you've been gone for hours.] Ironhide said with a frown, finally finishing his inspection and withdrawing his canons.
[A majority of that time was spent waiting on Bluestreak.] Optimus replied rather sourly.
Bluestreak just shrugged.
[It's nice to see you, Bluestreak. Where's the rest of your team?] Bumblebee asked.
[They're still waiting to land. Some space junk got in the way, not to mention they're trying to avoid Earth's satellites.]
[How did we avoid Earth's satellites?] Ratchet wondered.
[We didn't.] Optimus replied with a sigh.
[Let's hear the rest of your story already, Optimus. You went quiet at the best part.]
[Oh, that wasn't the best part.] Ironhide smirked, recalling Starscream dropping missiles in Mission City.
[Very well. From what the Humans said, we believe Frenzy cut the power and Megatron melted rather quickly... at this time, Sam was trying to convince Sector Seven to let Bumblebee go so he could protect the Allspark--]
[Sam?]
[I just told you who he was not half an hour ago. Ratchet, Bluestreak needs an inspection.]
[Already on it. He's got a few dings and a bad memory.]
[No brain damage?]
[No.]
[Are you su--]
[Optimuuus.] Bluestreak groaned.
[Very well,] Optimus conceded reluctantly. [Bumblebee was somewhat mistreated, which is upsetting, but Sam has assured me that they treat Humans the same way when they show unusual traits. Bumblebee shrunk the Allspark down to Sam's size and, with a government escort, took Sam and Mikaela to Mission City to hide the Allspark, where the battle between the Autobots and Decepticons began in earnest...]
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Like I said, don't be afraid to tell me what you think while I don't care. ^__^
This is my first attempt ever at writing a story, so how long the chapters should be, when I'll be updating, and all that detailed stuff, I dunno.