Chapter 9

The air conditioner vainly puffed cool air into the classroom. Spike, Carly, and Trent each sat at different corners of the grid of desks that took the majority of space in the room. Chip sat in his wheelchair, next to the desk closest to the door. The teacher sat at his desk amongst stack of paper, quietly grading the latest test.

Spike glanced at his watch. 4:15. Fifteen more minutes, and he could leave. He gazed lazily out the window, taking in the detail of the outside of the school. He could see the baseball field, empty at this time of year, the football field, where most of the football team was running drills and practices, and the track, where groups of two and three athletes sped past older couples enjoying the fresh air.

He noticed a dark blue and white police car drive slowly, unthreateningly, up the drive toward the parking lot. There was an odd purple symbol painted on the hood, with a slash that ran deep in the metal, albeit not deep enough to expose the engine concealed beneath. Under that symbol was a smaller, red symbol, but Spike was unable to make it out in detail because of the size.

Spike wiped sweat from his brow on the back of his arm. "I don't get how it can be so hot in October."

"They said there was a heat wave about to hit," Carly answered coldly.

Spike glanced at Carly, then shrugged, and returned to his isolation.

"No talking," the teacher said absently.

Trent belched loudly, and Carly turned toward him, glaring daggers. Trent shrugged at her, and winked suggestively, mouthing, "We gotta get sensational."

Carly tried not to laugh in shock and at Trent's bombastic vocabulary, but what he'd meant disgusted her, so she looked away, opened her text book, and began reading.

Chip leaned on the desk he sat next to, propping his head up with one arm and drumming his fingers slowly.

The teacher slammed his hand down on his larger desk, startling the four students in the room. "You'd think that they'd be able to come up with an air conditioner that, y'know, conditions air," he sighed, shaking his head.

The four students furrowed their brows, shrugged, and returned to their damp stupors.

Carly unzipped the backpack hanging from her chair, produced a sheet of lined paper, and folded it in alternating opposing directions, creating a make-shift fan, and waved it slowly, in wide arcs, in front of her face.

The school phone, located on the wall next to the door, rang; each person checked their own cellular phone before realizing which phone was issuing the noise. The teacher stood and walked to the phone, and answered it.

"Yes. They're all still here… Oh my God, really? Really? His father? Yeah, okay. I'll be right down." He hung the phone back on the hook and turned to face Spike, Carly, Chip, and Trent.

"Well, the famed Sparkplug," the teacher sneered, "is here to rescue Son."

Trent laughed. The others shot him glares. The teacher looked pleased with himself.

"Everybody get your things. I need you to follow me quietly and orderly, IF you can manage."

All four students groaned, and all but Chip reached to grab their bags and hoisted them up on their backs. Chip's bag hung from the back of his wheelchair, as it was normally. They filed out the door one at a time, and the teacher flicked off the lights and shut the door behind him.

Chip stopped halfway down the hall at the elevator, which opened immediately after the "down" button was depressed. The other four continued on, marching down the warm hall, then down the main stairway beneath large skylights, through which sunlight poured mostly unhindered and contributed to the uncomfortable temperatures.

Chip met them at the bottom. They could already hear Sparkplug Witwicky shouting angrily at someone.

They rounded a corner, where they found Sparkplug standing in the main office, the door thrown wide open, red-faced and gesticulating wildly and rapidly. "So you're telling me my son is being punished for defending himself?" he said indignantly. "If anything, you should be punishing the other guy for starting the fight in the first place!" He pounded his palm onto the counter, causing the three secretaries attending the office to jump. Sparkplug turned and exited the office, stopping within an inch of the teacher.

"So you're the ass hole whose decision it was to put Spike in time-out for standing up for himself and his handicapped friend," he said, jabbing his forefinger angrily into the teacher's chest.

"Mr. Witwicky, this school does not allow physical conflict of any kind on these premises."

"My son was not at fault." Sparkplug pointed at Trent. "This is the one that instigated the whole thing, right? Why not put his in in-school suspension or something? Surely you have something like that?"

"Mr. Witwicky, I can tell you with confidence, I saw strikes being thrown from both sides. If I were to put one of these kids in ISS, I'd have to put them all in ISS."

"Strikes from both sides, eh? Well, prove it. I know my son. He wouldn't throw a punch unless somebody was really going to get hurt. Throwing Chip out of his wheelchair might hurt him, but it wouldn't be enough to get Spike to throw a punch."

The teacher sighed. "Fine. I'll see if security's got the tapes. We'll see who's right then." With that, the teacher turned and rounded a corner, disappearing from sight.

"This is bull," Sparkplug said.

"Dad…"

"I mean, you can't punish someone for sticking up for someone else!"

"Dad…"

"Seriously! I mean it!"

"DAD!"

"What?"

"I think you're over-exaggerating. I mean, first, it's I'm defending Chip, then it's I'm not doing anything."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Dad, I didn't touch the guy," Spike explained.

"The guy? I'm right here, you moronic monkey!" Trent said, a smug smile on his face, clearly happy with himself.

Spike, Chip, Carly, and Sparkplug all gave him a weird look, then returned to the issue at hand.

"Yeah, Mr. Witwicky. I stepped in to try and stop them from fighting, but Trent just spilled me out into the walkway," Chip added.

"And I slapped him," Carly said.

Spike turned to Carly. "You didn't have to. I mean… I could have."

"Yeah, but you didn't…"

"What if I did?" Spike said, smiling broadly.

"You mean… No, Spike! Don't take the blame. It was my fault. I shouldn't have gotten you involved."

"I got myself involved, Carly," Spike said. "I'll tell your dad that it was my fault, 'cause it was. I'll tell him I hit Trent, but the teacher didn't believe it, because I'm usually a timid guy."

Carly rolled her eyes. "Spike, my father has only the highest expectations for me, both academically and in conduct. I have to face up to the consequences, even if it means I can't go to the dance… I'll have to return my dress."

"Oh, can we cut the crap? Carly, you know you want me, and me only" Trent chimed in.

The four others looked over at Trent, and in unison, said, "Shut up, Trent."

Spike looked back at Carly. "I know you wanted to really impress everybody. I know how much it means to you, and I want you to go."

"Spike, that's really sweet, but I can't let you take all the blame…"

"So now it's all the blame?" Spike smiled. "So you admit it's not all your fault."

"You just did the same," Carly said.

Spike moved closer to Carly. "Look, I'll take care of it." He glanced over at the glass entry hall. "I'll take my car… My car… My car..." Spike trailed off.

"Oh my God… My car!" Spike shouted, shoving everybody out of the way as his own car smashed through the front glass doors, sending shards flying. The car rolled in the air before hitting the ground, rolling once more, and slammed hard into a brick wall. One wheel fell off.

"Jesus," Sparkplug said, climbing back to his feet.

"What on Earth?" Chip said.

Carly pointed out through the now-gaping hole. "Look!" she said in terror.

Outside, a tall, slender figure loomed maliciously. The details were mostly washed out by the harsh sunlight, but Spike could see that it was mostly green, with some lighter green and some brown. A wicked hook gleamed at the end of one arm. Glowing red eyes glared directly at the five humans. It vaguely resembled the spiky muscle car Spike had seen earlier in the day.

Trent let out a high-pitched scream and bolted toward the cafeteria. Spike let his glance follow for a moment before he returned his attention to the monster, which was now stooping to enter the front doors.

"Good God, what is that?"

"I am a bounty hunter," the thing answered. He pointed at Chip, coming into the main lobby of the building. "And you have something I want."

Spike and Chip glanced at each other. "The laptop…" Their eyes widened.

Spike could feel the vibrations pulsing through the ground with each step the monster took. He could see the spinning and churning mechanisms inside the monster's metal armor. He could smell the exhaust fumes emanating from inside it.

The monster seemed to well up like the ocean in front of the terrified humans, like an inevitable disaster waiting for the perfect moment to occur.

"Lockdown!" said a gruff voice from behind. Suddenly, the monster was tackled to the ground beside the humans by another monster. This one was white with dark blue stripes, and…

"Protect and Serve?" Spike read incredulously. The police motto was printed plainly on the new monster's wings, which highly resembled the doors on the police car he'd seen earlier. The blue glow of its eyes was almost reassuring.

The first monster slammed its elbow into the face of the second, knocking it away. Spike could now see the purple symbol with the slash through it, and the tiny red symbol below it, on the monster's chest. The second monster stood, spat what looked like oil onto the floor, and launched itself into the air, executing a jump kick like a master of some martial art.

The first monster blocked the kick with its hook arm, and then let off a few rounds with the machine gun mounted on its other arm. The second monster leapt effortlessly over the ammunition, landing lightly on his feet and dropping to the ground. It spun, delivering a roundhouse kick directly to the first monster's feet, knocking it off balance.

"It's been a long time Prowl," the first monster said, flashing a menacing smile.

"Not long enough if you ask me, scum," the second responded, before directing its attention to the frightened humans, who had backed against the wall in a huddle. "Run!"

Spike felt his heart leap into his throat. The monster had spoken to him! It had said something… something… Then it registered in Spike's mind, and he was instantly bounding off toward around the corner, pulling Carly and Chip along with him.

He lost his grip on Chip's wheelchair and fell against the ground hard. He looked back, hearing Chip's screams, and gasped when he saw the first monster- the evil monster, he decided- grasping the metal rods in the back of the chair, pulling Chip back toward it.

"You didn't really expect you'd be getting away with this?" it growled, letting out a condescending laugh.

The monster tore away the outer pocket of Chip's backpack, spilling folders and papers, before ripping out the laptop, holding it carefully in his cold, alien fingers. It promptly let go of the wheelchair, and Chip hurdled forward, pulled along by Sparkplug. The four humans shook with fright, wide-eyed, huddled around the corner.

Prowl shook his head. "Nobody ever keeps running," he griped.

Spike took one tentative step toward the evil monster, Carly grasping desperately on his sleeve. "Give that back! There's nothing on there that you need!"

Sparkplug turned to Chip. "What's he doing?"

"Well, sir," Chip said, hesitantly, "We kind of… hacked a Blackrock Industries transmission."

"You- you what?"

"I did it. That's why we didn't see Trent coming. We were going to ask Blackrock himself about it, and he just… snuck up on us."

"But what does that have to do with monsters or whatever the hell this is?"

"The transmission said something about valuable experimental technology or something. Maybe that's why that thing wants it. And it looks to me like the other one really doesn't want him to get it."

Sparkplug turned back to look at his son. "Oh my God. My son's an idiot hero!"

"Who's gonna make me?" the evil monster sneered.

A flash of yellow and a burst of air marked the entrance of a third monster. This one flipped nimbly, lightly grabbing the laptop away from the first. The yellow monster took a defensive stance in front of the humans.

"You'll have to go through me first!" it shouted.

A roundhouse kick to the face sent the yellow monster, which was smaller than the other two, sprawling to the ground, gingerly guarding the laptop in its hands. The white monster grabbed the evil one from behind, and tossed it into the stature of the school mascot, shattering the marble figure of a roman soldier.

Carly yanked Spike back to relative safety, and they embraced. Carly quickly realized what was happening, and backed away, blushing.

The evil monster leapt to its feet immediately, and, as the yellow monster rushed at it, grabbed under his chest with its hook, and tossed the yellow monster aside.

"Bumblebee, get them out of here!" the white monster commanded.

The yellow monster sighed, and rolled away from the green monster, ducking agilely beneath another blow with the claw. He stopped in front of the humans, facing the gaping hole where the glass doors had once stood, and moved.

But it didn't move in the traditional sense. Millions of pieces, segments, and parts rotated, shifted, flipped, and spun, and the monster transformed- literally transformed!- right before their very eyes. This monster, this alien, this… whatever it was, had taken the shape of a yellow sports car with black racing stripes, and that red symbol like the one on the white monster tampographed in several places.

The passenger door opened by itself, and the seat leaned forward. "Get in!" it said.

Spike hesitated. He had no idea what was going on. It was all so confusing. It was pure chaos!

"Well, I'd rather go with the one that may discreetly want to kill us than the one that wants to do it openly!" Sparkplug decided, helping Chip into the back seat. The trunk popped open, and Spike jumped forward, folding the chair and placing it inside. He noticed the laptop sitting undamaged on the floor a few feet away, realized the yellow monster must've sat it down before attacking the green one, dove for it, and grasped it firmly.

The driver's side door opened, and Spike jumped in, buckling his seat belt as the door shut itself. He passed the laptop back to Chip, who took it, nodding gratefully, and then buckled himself.

"Everybody have their seatbelts on?" the monster asked. When nobody answered, it said, "Just kidding! I know you all do! Get ready, you're all in for a wild ride!"

With that, the monster screeched off, leaving black tire marks on the faux-marble floor, and all four humans felt themselves being pressed backwards against their seats. The engine gunned dramatically, and the monster raced out through the doors into the red sunlight.

Prowl lunged forward, swinging himself around Lockdown's leg, and sighed in relief as Bumblebee disappeared from sight. He swept around, bowling the bounty hunter over.

Lockdown clambered to his feet, brushed himself off with his good hand, and glared at Prowl. "Looks like I'll have to deal with you before completing the job after all. That's a first."

"Here's another first: you're not gonna get that chance!" Prowl leapt into the air, landing a flying kick at the center of Lockdown's chest plate, which had been the roof of his vehicle mode.

Lockdown grunted. "I got a few tricks up my sleeve!" Lockdown's feet lifted into the air, pulling the rest of his body with him, slamming into Prowl and knocking the Autobot to the ground.

Lockdown put his entire weight on Prowl's chest, causing his superstructure to groan in protest. Prowl grasped at Lockdown's ankle, trying to jerk it away, to get free, but Lockdown pressed harder, using the ceiling for leverage.

The ceiling… Prowl's optics widened as the thought came to him. The hissing of fuel igniting came like nails on a chalkboard to Lockdown's audio receptors, but he was too slow to prevent the missile launching from Prowl's shoulder launcher and screeching up past him, destroying much of the ceiling above. Desks and chairs fell through the hole, scattering pencils, erasers, and other objects all around the floor.

Lockdown balled his normal hand into a fist as Prowl leapt to his feet, using the momentum to increase his own punch's force. Prowl jerked his head to the side, barely dodging the blow and countering with a knee to Lockdown's torso, knocking the bounty hunter aside.

Prowl begrudgingly grabbed Lockdown by the head, and brought him to optic-level. "I've had enough of you." Prowl produced a pistol from a compartment on his hip, and jabbed it into Lockdown's neck.

"You don't have the guts. You lost your spark back when you quit the 'Cons, and you know it," Lockdown taunted.

Enraged, Prowl fingered the trigger, mulling over his options. He shouted in frustration, and tossed Lockdown across the lobby, leapt atop him, and pounded fist after fist into Lockdown's armor, denting metal and sending sparks flying.

Lockdown grunted with each blow, feeling it deep inside his spark. He half-coughed, half-laughed at the Autobot's anger and frustration. "You never were much of an Autobot. They're all too idealistic for you. They're all about the setup, but you… You're more interested in the punch line. You're much more Decepticon about your goals. I like that."

Prowl brought down his fist hard on Lockdown's wrist, severing the massive hook. "I am nothing like those monsters!"

Lockdown coughed again, this time with a wheeze. "Oh, but you are. Just look at my arm."

Taken aback, Prowl gazed down at the shattered wrist, horrified. "No… I didn't… No…" He staggered backwards, stopping against a brick support pillar. "I couldn't have…"

"Looks to me like you're still struggling with those tendencies Megatron drilled into you way back during the Quintesson War," Lockdown taunted, still lying on the ground.

Wordlessly and silently, Prowl launched himself at Lockdown, slamming his foot into the bounty hunter's face. Prowl stood still for a moment, waiting for Lockdown to move again, or utter more of his blasphemy, but the lanky Cybertronian laid silent and unmoving. The panels over his optics were shut tightly, preventing Prowl from seeing if they were lit or darkened.

Prowl shifted his gaze downward, staring at his open hands, dropping the pistol to the ground. He sighed regretfully. "That wasn't the Autobot way…" He picked up the pistol, re-holstered it, and faced the shattered doorway. Prowl converted into his vehicular form, and somberly started after Bumblebee.

The roar of the yellow monster's engine softened as it slowed, merging with Archer's pre-rush hour traffic. Spike marveled at the interior. The seats were a soft, neutral gray fabric, and the dash was a similar color. But everything was so clean, like it was a real brand-new car.

"So," Spike said.

"Whaddaya wanna know?" the monster asked.

"Do you have a name?" Chip asked from the back seat.

"The name's Bumblebee," the monster asked.

"I got one," Sparkplug said. "What the hell are you?"

"I am an Autobot. We're here to protect you from things like the freak at the school."

"What's an Autobot?" Spike asked.

"I'll let the big bot explain."

"The big bot?" said Carly.

"Yeah, our leader."

"Can you at least tell us where you're taking us?" Carly asked.

"Well, I'm taking you to the junkyard, to see the big bot. To see Optimus Prime."

The junk yard was a large area contained in the industrial park. The multitudes of rusted objects cast a red glow upon the patches of dried and dying grass and the molding, rotten wooden fence. The mountainous piles of debris were easily large enough to hide multiple large vehicles, and Bumblebee knew that they did as he drove through the open gate, the chain already shattered. Prowl followed seconds after.

Bumblebee slowly rounded a pile of junk, revealing a dark red Hummer, a white Japanese sports car with red and blue striping and a black "4" centered on either door, a white and red ambulance, and a red and blue long-nose semi-truck. The semi-truck's trailer was unattached, but stood nearby, gray with white and blue stripes, and that red alien symbol embossed on both sides.

Bumblebee slowed to a stop in front of his allies, opened his doors and trunk, and let the humans inside exit. Sparkplug hoisted Chip into his wheelchair, and all four humans gave the yellow Autobot room to convert into his humanoid, true form. Prowl was already standing behind them.

Suddenly, the four vehicles in front of the humans began the same process of shifting, hundreds of millions of shifting and rotating pieces, all moving in perfectly ordered chaos.

The small Japanese sports car stood first. This one stood taller than Bumblebee, but around the same height as Prowl. Spike could make out the grille and headlight on the Autobot's chest, doors as wing-like structures, much like Bumblebee and Prowl, with the lower wheels located on the ankle. The head was mostly black, with triangular structures stretching vertically upwards on both sides, comparable to ears in humans. Instead of the normal two glowing "eyes", this one had one glowing visor. Beneath the visor, the Autobot smiled confidently.

The next to rise was the ambulance. Red medical crosses adorned both shoulders, and a red chevron rose from the round, white head. The windshield became the chest, and underneath, Spike could see medical tools similar to those used on Earth. This one smiled in a friendly manner.

The red Hummer struggled up, cursing in its native language. "Leakin' lubricants! Can't hardly even transform!" This one possessed wheels in its upper arms, as well as large cannons attached to the lower arms. It wore the front bumper like armor on its chest. Its rounded head resembled a Roman soldier's helmet. This one didn't smile, only grimace.

Finally, the semi-truck stood. The front windows were displayed prominently on its chest. Spike could see the two halves of the hood reinforcing the armor on both arms. The chrome smokestacks stood attached to the back of each shoulder. The red alien symbol was embossed on one. The legs were long and slender, almost muscular-looking. The head possessed similar structure to the white one on both sides, but longer, more elongated. The mouth was covered by a three plates converging from three angles. This one conveyed an air or majesty, leadership, and reassurance.

It looked straight at Bumblebee, speaking in Cybertronian. He didn't seem angry, only stern.

Bumblebee issued a whining noise, obviously a protest.

The large Autobot turned his head to Prowl, and asked what seemed to be a question.

Prowl said nothing, only nodded.

The large Autobot turned to face the blood-red setting sun. It seemed to contemplate something.

"Whoa, whoa," Spike said. "Slow down. What did Bumblebee do wrong?"

The large Autobot turned to him, kneeling down, coming face-to-face. Its mouthplate retracted. "Quienes son?" it said.

"Um… what?" Spike replied.

"Pardon me," it said. "I am unfamiliar with the cultures and geographical locations of Earth's peoples. According to my databanks, 'what,' is a word in the English language, is this correct?" It spoke precisely, swiftly.

"Yeah."

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. This is First Lieutenant Jazz," Optimus said, gesturing toward the white Autobot. Jazz back-flipped and sat casually on the hood of a rusted car. "This is Weapons Expert Ironhide." Ironhide simply grunted. "Our medic Ratchet." Ratchet raised a hand and nodded. "You are already familiar with Bumblebee and Prowl, our reconnaissance team."

"Uh… right."

"Who are you, young human?"

"My name is Spike Witwicky. My friend in the wheelchair is Chip Chase. The girl is Carly… uh…" Spike turned to Carly, who simply shook her head. "Right," Spike continued, "and the adult is my father, Ron Witwicky."

"Sparkplug!" Sparkplug corrected.

"Sparkplug Witwicky. Whatever," Spike said, rolling his eyes.

"Spike Witwicky, our purpose here is to destroy Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, before he can be reactivated and lead his army to victory on our home planet, Cybertron. Our second priority was to leave all humans uninvolved with our conflict. It is our fight and our fight alone; you may leave if you wish, but you must promise that you will not alert your authorities to our location," Optimus Prime explained.

"Bu- but I have the laptop," Spike said, holding up the small computer. "That thing the other guy wanted."

"Yes. According to Decepticon transmissions listened to by Prowl and Bumblebee, that is the computer that intercepted the message from Blackrock Industries, Limited, containing information about Megatron's whereabouts and plans for shipping. We are to stop the transport and retrieve the body of Megatron before it enters any major human settlements."

"Okay… I have to ask, who's Megatron?" Spike asked.

Prime straightened up. "Megatron is, as designated before, the leader of the Decepticons. The Decepticons are our enemies. Civil War has ravaged my planet for thousands of years, but we managed to send Megatron to an unspecified location in the universe using experimental technology."

"Let me guess," Spike said. "That location ended up being Earth."

"You are correct," Prime said. "And now several Decepticons are here to locate Megatron's body and reactivate him to lead them to victory."

"But you said Megatron was their leader. How are they doing anything without a leader?"

"Megatron's lieutenant, Starscream, has led the Decepticons since the Battle of Iacon, when Megatron was sent here. He at first proved more effective than Megatron, masterminding one final push to take Cybertron. However, this 'final push' became many stalemates, and the threat of mutiny from his own Decepticons and politics amongst Decepticon-supporting civilians forced Starscream to locate Megatron. His findings led us here."

"Okay, okay. I understand. But what I want to know is why Megatron's so bad, and why the whole war is going."

"And I will oblige," Optimus said, before sitting and beginning the tale of the dawn of the War.