A/N: Sooo I saw an interesting idea floating around the Internet a few months ago (Tumblr, I think) of Knock Out befriending a human with very little of their own self-confidence. I cannot for the life of me remember who posited the idea in the first place, but credit to them for inspiring this fic.
This is going to be set in the Animated universe (around the beginning of Season 2), but with characters and elements from other continuities.
On with the show! R&R, if you please :)
He was really starting to regret this whole 'defecting' thing; it was a lot more trouble than it was worth. Never mind that he was now in Swindle's debt for giving him the tip-off that the DJD were sniffing around the quadrant for him, he was sure that every Cybertronian force conceivable was after him at this point.
He was currently sat askew in the 'captain's' chair, in the midst of deciding which of this galaxy's planets would be optimal for a (hopefully) brief stint while trying to evade capture by either faction. All of the ship's scanners were indicating that the green and blue planet he was approaching was the most suitable candidate; there were lifeforms living there with technology compatible with a smooth adoption of a vehicular disguise. Unfortunately, said lifeforms were coming up on scanners as organic. As was typical of most Cybertronians, the thought of a planet teeming with organic life perturbed him slightly – but then again, all things considered, the thought of the DJD perturbed him even more.
"Well, hopefully this mudball will be enough."
Setting the ship's autopilot back to manual, he rotated and assumed correct posture in the (admittedly) large chair, and grabbed hold of the steering column that rose from the dashboard. Tentatively testing out the steering as he approached the outer limits of the planet's atmosphere, he couldn't help but shudder slightly; he was no pilot, and this ship was hardly top-of-the-range anymore. It was an old mid-War thing, considerably older than himself, with only a second edition Teletraan system. Some would call it a classic, but its occupant began cursing the thing as the descent through the atmosphere got rather more bumpy than he anticipated.
Armour plating rattling, he gripped the steering column with all his strength, desperately trying to land anywhere other than the vast swathes of water on the planet's surface. Unfortunately, by the time he had reached the planet's stratosphere, the ship began blaring alarm sounds. Panelling was beginning to come loose from the front of the ship as it reached astronomical temperatures, and sensors were starting to go offline as a result of the rising heat. Barely giving any time to analyse any other potential courses of action in his processor, he decided to heed the ship's warning to [ENTER STASIS POD NOW. IMPACT IMMINENT].
Diving into the nearest pod, he quickly activated it. The planet's surface was coming closer and closer, and the last thing he saw before stasis took over was the shop hurtling past a small settlement, thankfully levelling out its trajectory as the ground got even closer. Not typically much of a religious mech, he found himself muttering to every deity he could think of, praying that his uncanny ability to get out of scrapes wouldn't fail him now. Then blackness consumed.
It was official; she was an idiot. Kelsey, despite being ever-self-deprecating, would generally consider herself a competent individual; her grades spoke for themselves, and even her mechanical skills were steadily increasing. However, it was at this moment, as she stared at the heavily damaged vehicle in front of her, that she was seriously starting to reconsider. She was never usually one to bite off more than she could chew, preferring to stay well within her limits. But she had been so convinced at the scrapyard that the car in front of her - no doubt at one time a very sleek, red example of a sports car - would be the beginnings of her magnum opus. This would have been the chance to prove to her father (but mainly herself) that she was worthy of taking over the family business. She had paid exactly five hundred dollars for it, a little pricy for her, but there was definitely the potential to return it to working order. Then she lifted the hood. Kicking herself for being so hasty in her purchase, she gripped the skin of her arm tight enough to leave a mark.
"Great! It's a freaking custom. Just brilliant. I can't even tell what the hell kind of custom it is. Great. Nice one, Kel."
Slamming the hood back down with a grunt, she stormed out of the garage and back into the house. The modest wooden structure shuddered with the force of her door slam, and her father looked up from his digital newspaper, "Any luck with the new car?"
Kelsey regarded him briefly, before slumping her shoulders and starting to make her way upstairs, "No. It's a custom. A weird one. I'll have to think about how to deal with it."
"Shame." He went back to his newspaper, not bothering to look back at his daughter again, "You have oil all over your face, by the way."
Pursing her lips, Kelsey continued up the stairs. Her father shrugged, but didn't take his eyes off the paper.
As soon as Kelsey headed upstairs, she made for the bathroom. She wet the corner of a towel and wiped the oil pockmarking her face. She then stood there, evaluating herself in the mirror. Her dark circles were getting worse, and her short, mousey hair was getting to an awkward length. Resigned, she trooped back to her room and got changed into cleaner clothes. Sweatpants weren't the most flattering outfit in the world, but then again, she didn't feel like much flattered her anyway. She flopped onto her bed, accidentally crushing some schoolwork in the process, before she threw it on the floor lackadaisically; the room was already a mess, she conceded, so a few more bits of paper wouldn't make a difference. She lay back, mulling over the car currently sitting in her garage. The guy at the yard said he'd found it near some farmland. Having made some enquiries, he couldn't find an owner, so took it back to his yard. All Kelsey knew was that the owner must've been on hell of a mechanic. The car's damage would suggest a rather serious crash, so it wasn't unlikely that the thing was capable of some speed.
As she let her arm dangle off the edge of the bed, her hand brushed the schoolwork she'd wantonly thrown on the floor. 'Just another thing to worry about later.'
Her grades were very good, to the point that the careers officer in the school suggested she try out at some engineering courses at the University of Michigan once she graduated next year. After all, employers such as Sumdac Systems were looking for bright young minds such as hers. She would be lying if she said the idea wasn't appealing to her, but she could never bring herself to tell her parents. From the day she was born, it seemed, her father was keen for her to take over the family mechanic business. Admittedly a dying art in the Robotics Age, the folk of rural Michigan were thankfully still keen to use their services.
"Kelsey! Dinner!" Came a shout from downstairs.
"Coming, Mom."
Slinking downstairs towards the kitchen she walked past her mother. Melissa Callahan retained a youthful beauty about her despite her often frantic job of owning a local diner, and Kelsey couldn't help but envy the care she put into her appearance.
"The pasta is on the counter. I'm heading out with the gals tonight, so I'll probably see you in the morning." She planted a kiss on her daughter's head, before grabbing her house keys and putting them in her purse, "See you later, sweetie!"
With the slam of the door, she went to seek out her pasta. Claiming her prize from the counter, she walked past her father, who was by now preparing to head out to fix his own cars up.
"Hey Dad," she asked quickly, "could you maybe have a look at mine? The engine is crazy, and I wanna know what you think."
Her father chuckled. Never let it be said that Jon Callahan wasn't one for encouraging his daughter to problem solve for herself, "Nah, I reckon you're perfectly able to do it yourself. Just go upstairs and chew it over while eating your pasta. That car's your baby, after all. I know you'll get it." With a wink and a chuckle at his own pun, he headed out of the door.
Alone in the house, Kelsey rolled her eyes skywards and resignedly headed upstairs.
"That's strange."
Optimus Prime regarded his teammate with a look of curiosity, "What is, Prowl?"
The team's ninja pointed to some of the data that was coming up on their base's computer screen, "Satellite reports indicate an object crash landed in rural Michigan three weeks ago, about ten miles outside of the city boundary. We're only just getting the data now, of course, but don't you think it's odd there weren't any local news reports at the time about a small object hitting the area? Normally these satellite reports merely corroborate local news outlets."
Optimus mulled this over, "Indeed. Well, we'll have to keep an optic on it. It doesn't look large enough to be a Cybertronian ship or anything."
The discussion was halted upon their human ally and her yellow companions came careening into the main room, whooping as they went.
Seeing Prowl about to storm off to the sanctity of his room, Optimus quickly intercepted him, "As I was saying, it's probably nothing. But it's our responsibility to exercise caution, especially now that Megatron's active again, and we have the AllSpark fragments to worry about."
Prowl gave a terse nod, before inclining his helm at the base's younger occupants in such as way hat Optimus was convinced he was rolling his optics under his visor.
"What's that on the screen? A new fragment? A new Decepticon I need to kick the butt of?" Bumblebee punctuated this outlandish suggestion with some sloppy attempt at martial arts.
"Nothing you have to worry about, Bumblebee." Optimus said, noting that Prowl had already vacated the room.
As Bumblebee and Sari shrugged at each other and left to presumably go and terrorise someone else, Optimus decided that maybe it was time to reread some local news reports.