Once again things haven't gone as planned, but I felt this perspective had to be revisited. More versions of the story than Rashomon. Oh well. I have one more little catch-up thing to do and then we're back to linear time. Onward and upward!

NOES! They can't kill Fig! I never finished the novel… and I missed it in IMAX… But Fig lives on- in my heart, and my story! FIG LIVES! MUAHAHAHA! That's probably the least mean thing I've done yet…

I don't own Transformers. I don't even have the DVD yet.

My Husband Knows Robots

Sarah Lennox's day had started normally enough. She did all her normal, everyday things like reading the paper, watching the news, getting a PB&J sandwich into a bouncing Anna and then off her face, and talking to her parents over their new webcam. Unable to get any work done with her daughter so wound up, she took her out for groceries, ice cream, and an hour in the park in town.

It was on their return home that things had gotten nasty. First some punk who couldn't have been older than 18 and his big expensive Camaro (canary yellow, of all colors!) blocked her lane and started yammering on about some danger and something about her husband.

To top things off, the kid was right and a bomber- an F-16 or F-22? God, she's become a real military wife- starts firing at them and they run for cover.

And the yellow Camaro follows them. By itself.

That probably freaked her out more than her car being hit by a missile. Bombers fire missiles. Missiles blow things up. Cars do not drive themselves. And she was definitely not getting into the self-driving yellow Camaro and going with that punk to God-knows-where, enemy fighter or no. Holding Anna tightly, she gave the kid and his yellow car a piece of her mind.

Then she heard noise from the direction of the road, and what did she see barreling towards them across the desert, but The Truck. Will!

But something was wrong. She swore that was her husband doing some crazy tumble out of the moving Truck and rolling across the dirt. That didn't seem to bother the accelerating vehicle.

"TAKE COVER!" boomed across the broad, flat space.

Surely The Truck hadn't just yelled that. That was crazy. But then it…

Oh God.

Not only had it driven itself and yelled at them, it pulled a solo 360 and got up. Like standing. On legs. And now that giant, black, metal Thing was crouched just dozens of yards away and leaping to intercept the bomber like some kind of deadly silver football- how had she not noticed it? Never mind, giant robot-thing, of course- and hurtling backwards over their heads, smashing into the ground on the far side of the pond.

That plane was definitely an F-22. But the form that pried itself free of the unmoving Truck/Robot/Thing definitely was not. And then it sprang back into the air, and became a plane again.

What the hell was going on? About to pose that very question to the punk with the yellow car, she whirled at a noise behind her.

And found herself staring at a twenty-foot yellow and black robot. A robot firing red fireballs out of his arm.

Oh God they're everywhere.

And as she was gaping in shock she nearly jumped out of her skin as she and her sobbing daughter were locked in the grasp of strong arms from behind. She screamed, whirling around to deck that freak and-

Was met with the worried eyes of her husband. Oh.

"William Michael Lennox!" she gasped in some combination of shock, anger, and relief. "What is going on…?"

"You're not hurt? And Anna's alright?"

"No, we're fine. But if you don't tell me what's going on right now… Why did our truck turn into a robot? Why are there robots fighting? Tell me!" She pushed herself right up into his face on her toes, free hand clutching his shirt. She was about five seconds from becoming uselessly hysterical if she didn't get answers and she knew it.

"Well-" Before Will could form a proper response, the ground exploded beside them and a spiked claw launched out of the debris to grab the Captain. As the ranger shoved his wife behind him, the claw was snapped back inches from his chest. Yanked from the ground and his prize, Scorponok whipped around to attack Bumblebee, who had grabbed him from behind.

Drawing the wide-eyed Sarah and their daughter back into a hug, he pointed to the thrashing Autobot grappling with the scorpion. "That yellow robot is a good guy." He turned them around, pointing toward the deathly still mass that was Ironhide, "Our truck is a good guy. If you see a yellow and red Hummer robot or a blue and red semi with flames, they're good guys too. The scorpion thing, the raptor, a Mustang police cruiser, any other giant robots are bad news until proven good guys."

"But what are they? Why are they fighting?"

"They're from outer space. They're fighting a war, and we're caught in the middle."

"Oh…" And then the yellow robot was right on top of them, hunched over the couple, the child, and the punk as he took hits from the jet's missiles. Tucking her daughter's head under her chin and craning her neck to look up at the concentrating blue, mechanical eyes above her, Sarah was almost willing to believe him.

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She handled that pretty well under the circumstances, don't you think? Next time I get everyone on the road and introduce some important info. Geez, if you saw this crap you'd tell me to go write documentaries, not fanfiction.

I have a little motorized butterfly that flaps its wings in my window. It would be cool if it were a SUPER MECHA BUTTERFLY OF DEATH. I'd call him Morphion Blue.

Hit that little blue button that says "Go" while I go to class!