Chapter Notes: Well, this one is still a little short, but oh well! 8D On that note, character weaponry is like, not my forte. So, I'm assuming everyone has some sort of cannon. Yes?


Sam continued to weave on the too small road, alternating curses at Starscream, Primus, and the dirt and gravel. Starscream, for still pursuing and attacking him after nearly 80 miles; Primus, for not including a manual or telling how to do anything; and the dirt and gravel because as he drove like a maniac, trying to get away from Starscream, his tires were ripping up the ground and rocks and dirt were shooting up uncomfortably against his undercarriage. Breaching 80 miles an hour, he still swerved hard when he heard the jet-former's weapons discharged, and it was working out for him—he hadn't been hit yet. So perhaps the Festiva form was good for him; he had a small enough frame that he wasn't getting hit. Yet, he couldn't help but to think how a Bugatti would have been better—he could have long outrun the jet. And yet, here he was, driving high speeds on a dirt road, gravel lodged in places he didn't know he had, letting out a shriek every time a blast landed too close to him, and praying something would happen, whether that be Primus striking Starscream down with a lightning bolt or the jet-former losing interest. He much preferred the first.

Suddenly, Starscream stopped firing, and Sam could hear the jet's engines let up a fraction—and as he refocused, the orange Festiva could see why. Another couple miles ahead, he could see the familiar Peterbilt that was Optimus Prime, and behind him, the GMC Topkick that was Ironhide, and the Emergency Response Hummer Ratchet. Relief flooded his systems—Starscream wouldn't dare take on the Prime, he wasn't stupid, as he so often proclaimed. Sam hit the gas a little more, pushing himself to 90mph, and knew he wasn't going to be able to travel that for too long. But he was eager to get to Prime, to see him and the others again, even if he'd actually been dead that long.

"Prime!" Sam shouted, his voice coming out a hoarse squeak that would have had him flushing with embarrassment if he wasn't currently a Festiva. Unsure if the Autobot Commander could have heard him, he kept going, conscious of Starscream who was still looming over him.

"I'll kill you right in front of your commander!" Starscream shouted, before once again the hail of cannon fire rained down on him with renewed fury. His ability to dodge blasts decreased tenfold as the ground blew up on every side of him. Sam could feel the heat on his orange metal, and he continued swerving left and right to avoid getting scorched and possibly deactivated. Optimus was just a short distance away, he didn't want to die—again—right in front of him.

The Prime suddenly transformed, rolling before shooting a precisely aimed blast at Starscream, his right wing erupting into flames and sparks as a screech filled the air. Sam kept driving, thankful the Seeker had stopped firing on him, before he passed right between Optimus' legs, as if they were the gate to freedom. He couldn't go much further, however, and had to slam the breaks down to keep from smashing bumper first into Ironhide. Sliding in the gravel, he bounced into the Topkick's bumper, earning a rumble from the other's engine in warning. Slowly, Sam went into reverse, and backed up so he was no longer invading Ironhide's personal space, or touching him.

Ironhide and Ratchet transformed in front of him, and Optimus, once Starscream retreated, turned around to greet the orange Festiva, who was now trapped between the three mechs.

"Welcome to Earth, friend," Optimus greeted, bright blue optics looking down to the small vehicle. Sam was silent, unsure what to really say. He had looked forward to finally getting back to the Autobots, and now that he was among them, he was at a loss for words. How did one go about revealing he was a friend of theirs who had died perhaps just the night before? "Did you come on the Ark? Where are the others?"

If Sam had been at a loss for words before, he certainly was now. What was the Ark?

"Are we certain this is an Autobot, Prime, and not some human vehicle worthy of the scrap heap?" Ironhide asked, moving his servos to his hips.

"Hey! I am not for the scrap heap!" Sam protested, not thinking before speaking. "This was the only thing within a mile of my landing, and sure, it's not as shiny as some Topkick, but this alt saved my aft back there!" The three other mechs were silent regarding his outburst, before Optimus spoke again.

"He met no offense," he said, giving Ironhide a glance. "What is your name?"

"Erm… S-"

Everything went black before Sam could finished revealing himself. His processor glitched out, and he was rendered unconscious. However, when he stirred, he was once again in the pristine whiteness that he had been in before, and he was no longer an Autobot—he was his normal, human self. Glancing around as he stood up, he half expected Dumbledore to show up again. However, he was met with Primus, who was still using his holoform. The Cybertronian God cocked an eyebrow at the teenager.

"Samuel, what was one of the limitations?" he asked, voice ever calm.

"I… couldn't tell them who I was…?" he repeated, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He rubbed the back of his neck with a frown. Primus crossed his arms.

"That's correct. And who did you just try to tell Optimus you were?" Sam mumbled. "What was that?"

"Sam," he spoke, refusing to look at the other. A small smirk found its way to Primus' lips.

"Now you see what will happen if try to tell anyone who you are. You'll glitch out and meet me back here. Surely you don't need to be scolded like a child, Samuel."

"No, sir," he responded, finally bringing his eyes to the bright blue ones.

"Good. What's your name?"

"Superawesome Shot?" Sam answered, grinning. Primus rolled his eyes.

His eyesight suddenly became very fuzzy, before growing black. Sam couldn't see anything, and Primus had disappeared. Having the sensation that he was falling, he closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. When everything settled, his eyes blinked open, revealing that he was once again a mech, and still sitting in his alt mode. His hood was open, and Ratchet was checking him over, crouched in front of the small vehicle.

"I see you've rejoined us," Ratchet commented dryly, shutting the hood. Sam had the urge to frown, but without the lip components to do so, he mentally sighed.

"Sorry about that," he explained. "I've got… issues."

"I'll say," Ironhide commented beneath his breath, only to receive a glare from Ratchet.

"My name's Rogue," Sam continued, ignoring Ironhide. As a little Festiva, there wasn't much he could do, unless he wanted to drive head-on into the onyx warrior's shins. "I didn't come on the… Ark. I came by myself." I'm pretty good at winging things, Sam thought to himself.

"I see," Optimus spoke, sounding almost disappointed. "We were expecting the Ark, one of the Autobot ships, to be coming to Earth soon. I'm sure you're tired from your journey, Rogue. We'll show you to our current base of operations, and suit you with a different alt mode, if you would prefer."

"That'd be great," he commented, watching as they transformed back to their respected alt modes, Optimus taking the lead with Sam following, Ironhide and Ratchet following closely behind.

Optimus either preferred driving slow, or was well aware that Sam wasn't the fastest of the 'bots, because at no time did Sam drive above 50mph. Which was all right with him, the slow pace gave him time to think. He had given them his false name—something he'd have to remember to respond to—but how long until they wanted to know more about him? How long until they realized he was Sam, and not some strange Autobot? Would they even figure it out? Would he be stuck as Rogue forever? His spark twisted at the idea. He wanted the friendships he had before. Bee was his best friend, and Optimus was a close second. Would he be able to achieve such relations as Rogue?

After driving for what seemed like forever, a large facility came into view, and before he knew it, they were passing the security gates and heading inside. Optimus led him to a hanger, before he transformed. Ironhide and Ratchet followed suit, while Sam merely stopped in the middle of the hanger. This is the part where he'd transform too—but he couldn't figure out how to do so. Sam attempted everything he could to transform his body into his mech form, but none of the gears or vehicle-parts responded to his mental commands. In the midst of trying, Will entered the hanger, and immediately Sam was happy to see him.

"Will!" he exclaimed, which startled the human. Will furrowed his eyebrows while the other three mechs peered curiously at Sam.

"Have we met before…?" he asked. Sam mentally smacked himself. He wasn't Sam—he was Rogue. Rogue didn't know the man, Sam did. Damn Primus.

"What?" he asked, playing dumb in hopes of saving his aft. "I was saying 'will… will you get me… some… energon?' Yes, that's what I was saying. Is your name Will? That's an interesting coincidence." Will blinked, obvious processing what Sam had said since the mech spoke so fast, before putting on a 'whatever' face.

"Yeah, as soon as we figure out what kind of alt form you want, you're free to go. Any ideas? You can surf the web for options. We're on a budge though, so nothing extremely expensive, like a Bugatti Super Sports or Pagani Zonda Cinque," Will laughed, amused with the thoughts of any Autobot choosing such vehicles, while Sam sunk a little low on his shocks. There went his beloved Bugatti. Damn government and their money.

Searching the internet proved to be another thing Sam needed a manual for. He couldn't figure out how to get it open—wasn't his processor the equivalent of a computer? Did it get Wifi or something? Why the hell was this so hard?

"Prime!" a voice called, making the leader look away from the orange Festiva. Jazz came into the room, glancing at Sam but otherwise paying no mind. "The Ark just breached the atmosphere."

"Are you sure? Last time you said that we ended up with… this," Ironhide spoke, gesturing to Sam. The Festiva's engine rumbled in irritation.

"Yes, I received a comm from Prowl," Jazz offered.

"Let's greet our allies then," Optimus answered.


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