It had been almost a month since Kelsey had purchased her 'magnum opus', and she was making steady progress in fixing it up. She convinced herself that she was merely giving herself more time to think over the engine issue by completing the bodywork first, and that no, this wasn't at all procrastination.
She had done a good job of the bodywork, she had to admit to herself. The sleek red lines and gold detailing were taking shape, and from the outside at least, the car was looking almost as good as new. She had taken to patting the car after each round of detailing, but was trying to break the habit as it was costing her extra wax to cover her greasy handprints.
"Looking good, Red. If I do say so myself."
Yet another curious thing about this car, Kelsey soon realised, was the strength of its metal body. Trying to hammer out dents was considerably more difficult and physically tiring than on other cars, and more than once Kelsey found her tools accidentally bouncing off the metal and careering back towards her. This didn't particularly bother the girl, however, who had already come to terms with the fact that this car was something special, warranting such a high level of modification.
She had been working on her project almost every day after school, completing her homework before heading out to the garage until late into the evening. Her father loved that she was so vigorously embracing the challenge; her mother frowned at the near-constant presence of grease on her daughter's face.
This was Kelsey's main hobby though, and she wanted to enjoy something before she had to start putting thought into revision for her finals. The garage was where she could be herself without having to care what other people thought. Here she wasn't just mousey little Kelsey, the girl who had been the school's 'quiet girl' since she started kindergarten. Here she thrived.
Setting her tools down, she headed over to her 30th generation iPod to put on some music. Deciding on a playlist from the 1980s, she headed back over to the car. Yeah, the music was old, but she really needed motivation if she was going to actually go through with what she had planned for the car's mysterious engine.
The car's on/off button didn't like to work, she had realised early on. As such, if she wanted to get an idea of how the thing ticked, she was going to have to jumpstart it. It was no biggie - she had expected it from a car straight out of the junkyard.
Fetching the necessary leads, she lifted the hood.
"I hope this works. Otherwise I really have been talking to a dead hunk of metal for the past month." With no small amount of trepidation, she stood back at a safe distance and flicked the switch.
An electrical humming filled the garage as the jump-box powered up. Kelsey slunk into the driver's seat with the ignition fob, and was just about to reach for the ignition button when something happened.
The engine suddenly roared to life without her having pressed start. Flinging herself out of the car to inspect the engine, Kelsey froze as she heard an odd sound. The car seemed to split apart panel by panel. Time went in slow motion as she fell painfully onto her rear in shock as the thing before her grew taller, soon taking on a humanoid form. Transformation complete, the thing appeared to look frantic, glowing red eyes darting around the garage, before settling on her. It swiftly removed something from a compartment in its side, before telescoping it out into a spear of some form, which it then pointed menacingly in her general direction.
She screamed.
Weapon clattering to the floor, the thing moved its clawed hands to clutch the sides of its head, as if covering its ears.
"Primus, I didn't know you went supersonic."
At this Kelsey stopped screaming and froze. The voice that came out of the thing was that of a man, although with an electronic tinge around the edges despite its smooth tone. She gaped.
The thing blinked at her, "Good, now that you've stopped, would you mind telling me what the frag you are?"
At her silence, he gave a prompting look, "You do speak this language, don't you?"
She nodded, swallowing to lubricate her dry throat before practically whispering, "I'm a human."
The thing (he?) stood back slightly, "Oh good. Guess the stasis pod actually did its job in downloading the language of this area's dominant species."
"Y-you're one of those Autobots!" She squeaked. The whole world knew about the benevolent robotic aliens who now called Michigan their home. Of course, everyone now knew there was another, decidedly less benevolent faction of these robots too, but she banished the thought from her mind. After all, weren't the bad guys all aeroplanes?
"Excuse me?" it spluttered, an eyebrow appeared to be raised, "Did you say 'Autobots'? You have Autobots here? Great. Wonderful."
She could tell the tone was, alamingly, not positive; she couldn't help but start babbling, "Y-you were a car. From a junkyard. You've never done this before."
"Yeess, I was a car. And-wait, did you say junkyard? Are you telling me that I was taken to a junkyard? Like scrapmetal? I really have reached a new low. Although," a look of approval as freshly-polished plating sparkled in the fluorescent lighting, "I will say, you have done a wonderful job of fixing me up. Almost as shiny as usual."
She gawked upwards, and it clearly felt the need to explain itself further lest she go into a full-out panic attack, "Let me introduce myself, seeing as you've done such a wonderful job of fixing me up. I'm Knock Out. Cybertronian medic. And you are?"
"K-Kelsey Callahan."
"Well Kelsey Callahan, I have a favour to ask. You said there are Autobots on this planet, correct? Well, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention my existence to anyone. You see, I'm kinda not in the Autobots' good books right now - that's the correct expression, right? - anyway, I came to this planet to try and get away from politics. I'm going to drive away now, and you'll probably never see me again, so don't worry your pretty little head about me, got it?"
Taken aback by being described as pretty, even in the laconic tone that Knock Out was using, she nodded blithely.
"Good, well, I'd best be on my wa-" Knock Out stumbled back suddenly and clutched his head, as if suddenly dizzy, "Ughh frag," he groaned, "I came out of stasis too quickly." He quickly spotted the jump leads and looked at Kelsey accusingly, "Did you use those things to jumpstart me?"
Finding her footing again, Kelsey cleared her throat, "Well yeah. You weren't gonna start yourself, and your engine is so heavily modded it didn't know what else to do except to jumpstart you and see how you ticked."
A perfectly logical answer, Knock Out had to concede, but not ideal in his circumstances, "New plan: I stay here for a few more solar cycles to calibrate my processor properly, then I'll leave you be." He was a medic, and he'd be damned if he ruined his processor by neglecting rule number one in the stasis handbook, especially when there were apparently Autobots prowling the area.
"O-ok." Kelsey was visibly shaking, but Knock Out didn't seem to care.
He lowered himself down into a sitting position, placing his head in one hand - an oddly human gesture - and locked eyes with her, "Now, tell me about these Autobots..."
The Autobots had meanwhile been swept off their feet by various goings-on in Detroit. Tensions were high, and the more surly members of the crew were running low on morale. They'd been dealing with new Cybertronian Wreck-Gar - and wasn't that a thrill - and Optimus had had little time to devote to chasing up the odd satellite data.
"Man, I'm so tired."
Optimus turned his head to see that Bulkhead had entered the room, a servo clasped to his helm as if he were in the midst of a processor ache (not an unreasonable suggestion - Ratchet's frayed nerves meant his wrench-throwing hand was itchy), before he sat down on the great concrete 'sofa'.
"I'm sure we'll experience a lull in activity soon, what with the Elite Guard back on Cybertron." Optimus hummed. Truth be told, even rampaging garbage trucks provided a lesser source of stress than his superiors' overbearing presence.
"When do you think the Cons'll show up again?" Bulkhead asked, motioning to turn the giant television on.
Optimus winced at the blaring commercial that emanated from the TV, but Bulkhead didn't notice.
"Hopefully not for a while." Hopefully not until I've managed to have at least one decent solar cycle's rest.
The base was admittedly quiet today, with Prowl having taken Sari and Bumblebee to some nature reserve over in Illinois. Ratchet meanwhile was in his medbay, having not emerged for the past day and a half due to an apparently achy battle scar. Even back in possession of his EMP generator, that part of his arm still had a tendency to ache when, as he delicately put it "slag is about to hit the fan". How comforting.
Trying to convince himself that this was nothing but superstition on behalf of their medic, Optimus turned back to the police footage he was trawling through. Wreck-Gar had caused a significant amount of collateral damage, and the Prime had volunteered to help the police assess the situation.
"Hey, do you think all the Decepticons around the cosmos know Megatron's back online?" Bulkhead suddenly asked, casually reclining as he watched a rerun of America's Funniest Home Videos.
"I suppose so." Optimus replied, not even looking up from the computer screen he was focussing on, "I imagine his senior officer have sent out an official communication."
"Do you think they'll join him here?"
Optimus paused, turning to Bulkhead, "I certainly hope not."
Satisfied, Bulkhead shrugged his mammoth shoulders and turned back to the TV.
Optics lingering on the TV for a second, Optimus turned back to his own screen. He had paperwork to sort out.