A/n: I've been having some technical difficulties uploading chapters. The bars aren't converting, and paragraphs are accidentally getting italicized when I don't want them to be. I've also found some scrunched up text here and there. It seems that I fixed most of it. I hope I didn't loose anyone over it...that would suck. R&R please.

Chapter Three

More Than Meets the Eye

It pleased Maggie to no end to see a child curled up in a giant armchair, engrossed in a storybook. One of her novels filled pages of words strung into perfect sentences that had come from the far corners of her heart.

Sometimes a parent would come up and thank her because the books had started their children on reading binges. This was unexpected, since there were chapters in Transformers that contained a significant quantity of violence. However, books had a tendency to spark the imagination, igniting new ideas and curiosity. Books could change the world of a child. Maggie knew; she had been a child once too. It was enough to convince Maggie that if she could get just one more to start reading, then that was good enough a reason to keep writing than anything.

Today, most of her readers were children. There were several teenagers, and a handful of adults. They made inquiries while handing over their copies of Transformers for her to sign. Questions, questions, questions. How Maggie both loved and hated questions.

"I have a question," one boy asked. He was about nine years old with big eyes and messy brown hair. "If you could talk to one character, alive or dead, who would it be?"

Maggie thought for a moment. "Jazz," she said. "He has a near perfect memory drive, excellent for recording battles and historical data. I wouldn't mind picking his brain for a few details…What's your name?"

"Daniel," he said. "Is it hard to write books?"

Maggie smiled, making the signature out to Daniel. "Sometimes," she said. "But then most often the difficult things are the most rewarding. Don't you think?" Book Four will be rewarding, she told herself. Once you get over this writer's block.

Daniel shrugged. "Maybe."

Hanging quick right, Bumblebee pulled into the streets of a quiet suburb. He was pretty sure that he had lost Barricade back in Main Street traffic, but now he needed a place to hide, somewhere to lay low long enough to keep Barricade distracted in his search while Jazz 'interviewed' the human called Maggie.

Bumblebee couldn't wait to hear it. Finally, they had a clue as to where the Cube had landed. It was somewhere on Earth, but where?

Only Maggie could answer that.

She had recorded three seven-hundred-page books concerning the history of Cybertron and the war prior to launching the Allspark into space, and while she had skimmed over many unimportant battles, the more defining events had been recorded almost precisely according to the actual event. Even the conversations were practically word for word.

It was almost creepy.

Almost as if she had downloaded the information into her organic little brain, but that was nearly impossible for biological beings. Although at that point in the war, Bumblebee and his companions were ready to believe just about anything if it meant that was hope not entirely lost.

They knew that the Allspark had landed somewhere on Earth, and they knew that it was capable of (among other things) absorbing information from living beings, hence the myriad codes encrypted on the Cube's outer shell. So perhaps Maggie had found the Cube and deciphered the codes. Like an alien version of the Rosetta Stone.

Again, it was far fetched, but then stranger things have happened across the galaxy.

A place to hide…a place to hide…Aha!

There was a house planted at the south corner of the block. It was painted a rich brown and had wide rectangular windows. Out front was a carefully kept lawn of thick green grass. Lining the perimeter of the house was several blossoming flowerbeds. The humans who lived there appeared to be absent; there was no one in the driveway…or in the open garage, which Bumblebee thought would be a perfect hiding place.

A little rat-like dog barked as he quietly pulled into the garage. Activating the machine attached to the door, he let it close behind him, encasing him in total darkness. There was no one home. He only needed to hide for a little while, plenty of time to give Barricade the slip and keep him occupied.

And hopefully, it would be enough.

Maggie folded her arms as the window rolled down. She stood on the sidewalk outside the library after the event had ended. Darkness had already settled over the parking lot's cold asphalt.

"Thought you could use a ride home," said Will.

"I find it odd," said Maggie, slightly suspicious. "That I just called a cab and ten minuets later you show up. I thought you had a meeting."

Will shrugged dismissively. "I got out early." The door popped open with a small click.

"Get in and save yourself some money."

Maggie sighed. "Speaking of money," she said, climbing into the passenger seat. "I don't mean to nag but this car—"

"—Is off the hook!" Will finished. "Baby, you've such a slick ride." They pulled out of the parking lot rather quickly, veering almost effortlessly around the sharp corner. Show off.

"Baby?" Maggie repeated. "Did you just call me…baby?"

He suddenly looked worried. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes," said Maggie. "You're married. The only person you should be calling baby is Sarah."

"Oh." A pause, and then a change of subjects. "So, about your books— "

"You're obsessed with them," Maggie interrupted. "I know."

"And with good reason."

Before anything else could be said, the sound of sirens filled the streets. Flashing red and blue lights lit up the night. Will cursed through his teeth, "The bastard just loves making things difficult, doesn't he?"

"Maybe he thinks you stole the car," Maggie suggested, half sarcastically, but to her horror, Will didn't pull over. "Aren't you going to pull over?"

It happened too fast, without any warning: Will scoffed and the car sped up, allowing the speedometer to climb ten…twenty…twenty-six miles over the speed limit. The engine roared as they shot through the streets. "Will? Will, you psycho, stop it! Damn it, what do think you're doing? Will, pull over!"

He ignored her pleas. Instead the car swerved into the other lane, weaving in and out of traffic. They dodged several oncoming cars, many of whom honked angrily just as they eluded collision. "His ass is so grass," muttered Will.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. The blood in her cheeks had run cold. Her stomach was in knots. Meanwhile the law enforcement vehicle never let up. Its blinding high beams made it impossible for Maggie to see the driver. She swallowed hard. Not even ten blocks from the library and she was already involved in a car chase from hell.

They were so going to prison.

Maggie clamped her eyes shut. "You're not really Will are you?" she asked suddenly.

"What makes you say that?"

"Will isn't a psycho." She was practically shouting now. "He doesn't like to read, he doesn't call me baby, and he doesn't drive a Pontiac Solstice. I don't know who or what your are, but you are not William Lennox."

"If anyone is a psycho, it's that glitch-head behind us." A voice suddenly came from all around her, calm and smooth, and deeper different from Will's tone.

A semi blasted its horn. They were heading towards him dead on, eighty miles an hour. Maggie clapped her hands over her eyes. The last thing she would hear would be sirens and blasting horns. The last thing she would see would be a mixture of red, blue, and the twin blinding white headlights heading right for them. The last thing she would feel would be cold metal and broken glass smashing into her ribcage. She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to—

The car suddenly jerked once more to the right, narrowly missing the red and blue paint job.

BAM!

Maggie dared to peer through her fingers. She was perfectly fine, perfectly alive. Heart pounding, she glanced over her shoulder. Neither semi nor cop had been able to avert the collision, and had met head on; the collision had sent their pursuer rolling over the top of the semi, the front smashed and the window cracked. A miracle he wasn't road pizza.

"That better not be who I think it was," muttered the voice that came from all around her. It gave a shaky, rumbling laugh.

Maggie glanced at Will only to find an empty driver seat. The steering wheel was rotating its own, maneuvering the car through the streets (at a now safe speed) by itself. Holy shit, the car was alive. The car was alive! At first she was terrified stiff, but then as her pulse rate returned to normal, the idea slowly sank in with every smooth rotation of the steering wheel. The idea, even the very possibility was just fascinating. A talking, self-driving car.

Like something out of a science fiction film, maybe it was haunted like the car in Stephen King's Christine…or perhaps it was a living a machine, like something out of Transformers.

If that was the case, Maggie wondered, thinking about her books, woul it be Decepticon or Autobot? Nevertheless, Transformers was entirely fiction. Something she had made up entirely, stories that had started out as just images and daydreams that come to her almost as easy as breathing. Maggie reminded herself of this, watching the streetlight's dim orange glow repeatedly swoop across the dashboard.

Obviously it didn't want to hurt her or it would have already done so.

And it's obsessed with my stories,she reminded herself. Maggie folded her arms. "So, since you're clearly not Will, who are you?" she asked.

She felt the car slow to a stop, pulling into a dark little ally behind several larger buildings. "If I answer that, will you answer my questions about your books?"

Maggie didn't want to reveal those secrets, but then, most of them were mysteries even to her. "You might not like what I have to say."

"Might work both ways."

Maggie was fine with that. For once, she would be the one to ask the questions and receive answers. The passenger door opened by itself. Climbing out of the car, Maggie began to wonder what she getting herself into.

Standing in the door of his garage, Sam scratched his head. "How the hell…?"

Approximately ten minuets ago, he had come home to find someone's car inhabiting his parent's garage. At first, he though he was at the wrong house, but after double-checking that it was his house; he thought it was some sick joke. However, Miles didn't know anything about it, and Sam didn't have too many friends. He checked with his enemies, too, but that just ended in a series of harsh name calling from Trent his cronies.

So what was a comic book artist to do?

He looked at the bright yellow Camero and wished that it would just go away, drive off on its own, racing strips and all, before his parents came home from their trip to the Bahamas. They would have a cow if they ever found out; maybe even accuse him of stealing it. After a moment, Sam closed the garage door and decided that it would be best to call a tow truck.

Flipping through the yellow pages, he settled on an advertisement listed under the name, Banes Towing Company.

A/n: I hate my lame ass car chase…it's been so long since I wrote anything close to action; and that was a medieval sword fight! Yeah, so technically, chapters three and four could be combined into one chapter, and originally that is how I planned it to be. But then Bumblebee came along and I decided to try to bring a couple characters together instead.

Yeah, so thanks for reading and reviewing thus far. You guys are awesome.