2. In Which the AllSpark Wanted a Lady

The God forsaken AllSpark wanted that chick, badly, Sam Witwicky just knew it. Except there was nothing he could do other than praying: please, venerable AllSpark, just go back to sleep and stop screwing up my life.

Seriously, was some normalcy just way too much to ask?

For a while, it seemed that he had almost recovered what could resemble a normal life. His injuries from Mission city were healed, his PTSD (if it indeed ever existed) was talked out with a psychiatrist, his issues with the AllSpark dealt with, and he even went on to college, the famous Ivy-leaguer Princeton at that too. Granted, his alien-friend-turned-Camaro was still sitting in the school parking lot, and he had taken up international relations as his major at the urging of both Defense Secretary Keller and Bumblebee, but these things were still within the realm of grudgingly acceptable. The AllSpark being restless and desperately in search of a gorgeous human female, however, just reeked of trouble.

What could a God-like, life-giving, disembodied bundle of energy and knowledge possibly want with a human female? You don't have hormones! Sam thought irritably.

After the battle at Mission City, Sam had been living in total nightmares for two straight months. Strange alien symbols flashed before his eyes day in and day out, his arms would glow blue on and off, and there was this once, when he slapped his toaster on an especially grating morning, the said toaster sprang to life. He was stuck in Autobots base for a while, in an alien intensive care unit, pretty much. Ratchet kindly explained to him that the AllSpark didn't seem to be destroyed; instead, the majority of the… AllSpark stuff was transferred into his body. In fact, Sam had become the new, walking, talking, breathing AllSpark. This really didn't sound like rainbow and unicorns to Sam, but strangely, the AllSpark quieted itself after two months and had been behaving for a while.

It seemed okay, that is, until now.

Right now Sam was restless, frizzing with energy (literally discharging electric sparks too), and simply dying to be somewhere near that golden-haired nymph in his social theories class.

It really wasn't him! Granted, the famous Saori Kido of sociology department was unbelievably beautiful, but he had Mikaela already, he was in love and he did not want another woman! It was only the alien God-like thing inhabiting his body kept telling him: this woman could help the autobots; she could help the AllSpark.

Despite Sam's deep-seated suspicions of the AllSpark and its schemes, he still googled up this goddess hailed as the single most eligible as well as the most impossible-to-get bachelorette of Princeton campus. And his mouth was left hanging for quite a few minutes from the results returned. Saori Kido: nineteen years old, decidedly Greek but adopted by a Japanese billionaire when she was a baby, hence the Japanese name. She was the main stake holder of Kido foundation, a gargantuan corporation that produces all sorts of consumer electronics from gaming consoles to freezers. Other than the fabulously rich part, she was also surrounded by a slew of most bizarre gossips. Tabloid reports have linked her to Italian mafia, to Hellenistic pagan movement, to Chinese communist government, to human bioengineering projects, and the list could go on. This belle is every conspiracy theorist's fantasy, Sam thought wonderingly.

But, how could a woman like this help the autobots?

He tried asking Ratchet once, over a casual chit chat about cars. He tried to raise the question as a natural part of the conversation, saying, "So do you think any machinery or electronics we've got here on Earth can really help you guys? Like would our weapons do well as replacement parts for your cannons, or our engines for your parts, something like that?"

Ratchet grumbled. "Wouldn't I be happy if that were true," He said unhappily, "Then I wouldn't be so desperate to conjure up makeshift everything. Sure, a large machinery manufacturer would be helpful, only if I am there to tell them what to make though. But Prime isn't quite ready to share all of our technology yet; your people have serious faction problems and we do not wish for our technology to play a part in your war."

If that was the case, how the heck can Saori Kido be useful? Sure, she's got this fabulous technology corporation, but the autobots could totally have Ford or Boeing or Intel at their disposal if they are willing. Sam pondered this a while longer, and decided to ignore the AllSpark. He made an effort to avoid the golden-haired nymph, and was quite successful at it (actually, getting her attention would probably be harder).

Until today.

They were both late for social theories, and other students were already finished finding a partner for the religious institution observation paper. This meant…Sam desperately looked around the classroom, and then looked at his graduate student instructor. The young man flashed him a smile and said, "Well Sam, Saori actually just got here too and still needs a partner. I guess you two will need to work together." With that, the grad student gave him another little wink.

Sam made some disgruntled noises in the back of his throat. He watched helplessly as Saori Kido stood up, walked over, pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. "Hi, I am Saori, nice to meet you," She said coolly, holding out her hand, "It's Samuel Witwicky, right?"

Sam hastily took her hand and nodded. "Yeah, Sam is fine though."

To be honest, he was a little surprised that the bachelorette of Princeton actually knew his full name. Up close, he saw that Saori really was as beautiful as the rumors had it, and much more stunning in person than on tabloid photos. She was leaning on the short side, five feet five at most, very small but rather well endowed, wrapped in a white dress that really made her look like a Greek goddess from the paintings. Her face was smooth like porcelain, with well defined features and a pair of flashing grey-blue eyes. Her hair was long and hanging all the way to her thigh; the coloring would have been called strawberry blond, but somehow, all Sam could think of was the gleaming edge of a well polished brass blade. Yeah, that's it, her entire person has this Xena, warrior princess feel to it. Not that she was built and tanned and wild in anyway, but she was fierce and mighty despite her slender, milky-white body, and she had this virgin-goddess thing going on. Something men do not go for. Mikaela has more sex appeal in one pinky finger than this woman has in her whole body, Sam decided glumly.

Yet, he was really reluctant to let her hand go.

When the handshake grew unnecessarily and unusually long, Saori smiled again, and jerked her hand back. Sam just stared at their hands. He could swear he saw blue sparks of electricity where their hands touched.

Not good, not good at all.

Frag it, Sam mused darkly, Damn social theories; damn the AllSpark!