Disclaimer: All of these guys below belong to Hasbro. I just like playing with their fates and will return them when done. Except Gregory, he's mine. He stays with me.
Your Author: Sorry it took a little longer for this chapter, but I couldn't figure out how I wanted it to go. I wanted to wait on the scene near the end, but it seemed to fit there. Hm, does it seem to be moving fast? I'm trying to keep a smooth pace, but I'm not sure if I achieved that. Sunny isn't giving me much to work with, but at least Sam is cooperating.
Heh, I didn't realize something until my little sister mentioned it. I named Sam's uncle Gregory merely because suddenly I wrote him saying 'Greg' and it stuck. In a roleplay I did with her a few months back Sam had an uncle by the name of Gregory House, brother to Judy Witwicky. XD This Greg is, by no means, at all like House. I just thought it was funny.
Also, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers for taking the time and letting me know what they thought. Thank you!
Enough of my yapping, please enjoy the next chapter.
It was late, so very late. The warmth of his bed called like a siren, but once between the sheets all previous illusions were shattered like a mirror. He would toss and turn, throw the covers all over and nearly end up on the floor. The sliver of moon visible between the curtains was like a beam of light to his tired brain and would not allow his eyes to close for long. He couldn't sleep. Not that it was unusual; Sam was tiring of how often it occurred. He had theories as to why it happened, but he wasn't ready to face them yet and wasn't going to so late at night. Frustrated, he threw the covers onto the ground and pulled on his jeans. He only grabbed his cell phone out of habit before quietly heading to the backdoor. He froze momentarily when he heard his uncle's old mattress creak, but the sound quickly died out.
It was freezing out and he briefly cursed himself for forgetting a shirt of all things. He wasn't going to go back in and risk waking his uncle, however. Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean his uncle had to suffer. He closed the backdoor and headed straight for the car he'd been working on. He hadn't bothered to put the cover back on earlier, which was just as well. The tarp wouldn't be rustling and making noise. He put a hand on the hood and just stood there for a moment, taking a good look at the damaged vehicle. It was a habit, he realized as he slipped into the front seat and closed the door. Whenever he had sleep problems he gravitated towards cars, namely Bumblebee. His guardian was very patient and understanding when it came to that. He would go down to the garage and the two of them would talk into the early hours of the morning or until Sam drifted off, comforted by his friend's soothing voice and presence.
Sam leaned back against the old seat and closed his eyes. The air around him was unnaturally warm, especially considering the temperature outside, but he found it soothing. There was no voice that would converse with him and no reassuring feeling that Bumblebee managed to emit. No sentience at all. Still, it was nice.
-
"Sam? Sam, wake up." He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, much less when his alarm clock began playing such odd sounds. His foggy mind briefly wondered when it had learned his name. It wasn't even supposed to play music; it just beeped in an annoying way. Once he gained full awareness he realized that it wasn't his alarm, rather it was his uncle. Gregory was obviously confused, and a little amused, at the fact he'd found Sam asleep in the car. He looked around himself in a dazed manner, causing the older man to chuckle and shake his head.
"Sorry Uncle Greg," Sam groaned as he got out of the car. His back was stiff from sleeping in an upright position.
"What in the blazes were you doing sleeping in the car?" He nudged his half-awake nephew towards the backdoor.
"Honestly? I don't remember." Gregory chuckled as Sam stumbled towards his room. He merely assumed Sam had decided to do some moonlit repairs. The boy had really dedicated his free time to working on that car; he'd even managed to pound out half of the dent in the passenger door. She still wouldn't start, not even a sputter, but she was looking lovely. Certain that Sam was aware; he headed into the kitchen in order to locate his camera. He'd taken pictures at Betty's little girl's fifth birthday, he promised he'd get the pictures uploaded and sent to her. There was only one problem, no camera. The counter was void of the bright purple colored device. He scratched his head, swearing that it had been the last place he had put it. He began to look around and on the floor before going to the living room. His search turned up nothing; it seemed to have just vanished.
"Sam?" He called out as he began to strip the couch of its cushions.
"Yeah?"
"Did you happen to see or move my camera?"
"No, not really." He didn't have a reason to touch nor move it. The last time he'd seen it had been at that birthday party and even then he'd used it once. It wasn't hard to miss so the fact that it was lost was a bit surprising. Then again, it was his uncle they were talking about. Sam pulled his shirt over his head and yawned. It was probably in a very clear, easy to see place. Gregory just had a habit of over-looking the obvious because his mind was always elsewhere. He heard Gregory mutter something about aliens and snickered. "Did you leave it in your car?" He suggested.
"No, of course not!" The words were purely automatic to any human being and even as they were spoken, Sam heard the front door open.
-
"Maybe the house ate it." Sam finally suggested as he leaned against the couch.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Gregory muttered in defeat. He handed Sam a soda, popping open his own and sat on the couch. He and Sam had scoured the entire house, practically flipping it upside down, and still had not managed to locate the camera. "I'm going to head to the shop to pick up the paperwork. I'll look and see if I didn't leave it there by accident." He thumped Sam's shoulder before heading out the door. Sam carefully watched him leave; making certain he was in his car and down the road, and then darted to his room in order to retrieve his cd player.
He'd been caught up in working on the car over the past days and had not bothered to 'experiment' with his energy. He didn't remember it being in such poor condition, but it was far from surprising. The device was undoubtedly on its final leg. He turned it over in his hands, a frustrated expression on his face. All this energy ever seemed to do was destroy. He wondered why he even bothered with it anymore. He didn't notice that his body was tensing and his grip on the device had tightened. He wasn't getting anywhere in trying to harness the strange energy, if anything it did all the controlling.
There was a small bang as the device exploded in his hands. Parts went flying and his hands were left burnt and bloody, pieces of plastic sticking out of his skin. He'd been knocked backward from the force of the explosion and found himself against the far wall. There were a few bloody lines on his face and neck, but all in all it was nothing life threatening. The device had been reduced to nothing. Sam just sat there for several long moments, managing to squash down the frustration and rage that boiled within him.
He managed to pull himself off the floor and locate the first aid kit. He then proceeded to lock himself in the bathroom, he didn't want to explain how the plastic bits got into his skin, and began the tedious task of picking out the pieces and bandaging himself up. He heard his uncle return, sounding rather flustered as he called out Sam's name. Apparently a neighbor had heard the bang and had told his uncle the moment his car had arrived in the driveway. Sam gave a quick, what he hoped was believable, explanation.
Gregory stood outside of the bathroom door with a skeptical look etched onto his face. Sam was no expert at lying. His voice shook and he stuttered when he tried, but there had to be a reason behind it. He stared intently at the door for several minutes, briefly wondering if Sam was even breathing considering how still everything was, before sighing. Ron had warned him Sam would be very secretive from time to time and to give him space when he was. Sam was an adult; he could take care of himself. Gregory only hoped he didn't get himself killed in the process.
-
Sam, in a rare fit of anger, threw the newest cd player onto the ground. Predictably it shattered; hitting the cement had been the final amount of stress the poor thing could take. It was taking less and less time to utterly destroy each device; the latest cd player had only lasted two days. He wasn't getting anywhere with this. If anything it was all getting worse. That very morning he had woken up covered in cotton and electronic pieces. Usually he had to be awake for anything like that to act up, but now he was destroying alarm clocks in his sleep. He kicked a rock, it made a small sound as it connected with the brick wall that outlined the backyard. He knew he shouldn't be making so much noise, especially this late at night. Gregory hadn't come out looking for the source of the racket, therefore he must not have heard.
As the days passed, Sam found that the frustration had nestled within his chest and refused to leave. It was just beneath the surface, not enough to affect his mood and yet it was not ignorable. Gregory seemed to know that something was building up, he just wasn't certain of what, but he did know something had to give. He just didn't want to be around when it did.
Sam released a strained breath. He tried to calm himself, something he'd been attempting to do for the past half hour. His hands were sparking like broken wires and nothing he did would make it go away. His hands were still badly injured after his last accident and it was only aggravating the wounds further, thus adding pain to his irritation and restlessness. That being the reason he was outside at two in the morning. He didn't feel like himself, he felt as if he were being consumed by the damn energy. It crawled across and beneath his skin, digging into his bones. It's as if it wanted all of him flesh, bone and mind. He then did something that, had he been in his right state of mind, he never would have done. The tarp was ripped away and tossed aside, revealing the Lamborghini completely to the dim moonlight. Sam placed his bare hands flat against the hood. The energy dug into the metal, covering the entire vehicle with blue bolts jumping this way and that. Sam closed his eyes and clenched his teeth; the feeling was intense and wholly consuming. A quiet sound was torn from his throat.
The energy finally died out, but it took Sam a while longer to regain full awareness. He was pleasantly light headed and feeling better than he had in a few weeks. His breathing was ragged and he couldn't muster the energy to support himself. He ended up sitting in the dirt as his brain sluggishly struggled to catch up and make sense of the recent event. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach when the correct wires connected. He stood up, albeit shakily, and gave the car the once over. It wasn't anymore damaged than it had been, but it was cleaner. The dust and dirt was gone from its sleek exterior, but that was the only physical indication something had happened.
"Thank god," he breathed in relief. He slipped the cover back over, sort of, and stumbled inside. Whatever he had done had drained him of all energy, he could barely even walk straight. He only managed to make it to the couch before falling into a deep slumber. He didn't even notice the car headlights flash on before flicking back off again.
-
A shock ran through his systems, touching every wire and cog it could. It struck his processor the hardest, acting as a defibrillator reviving a human heart and giving three strong shocks. The numb darkness he had drifted in for so long slowly ebbed away. He felt the weight of reality return to him along with complete thought, not the sluggish mess his mind had been. It was painful, but it meant that he truly was among the functioning. He couldn't move, couldn't so much as twitch and was unable to see. He wasn't bound, as far as he could tell, but he was damaged. He couldn't bring up the diagnostics in order to calculate the damage, everything was offline. He didn't know where he was much less if he'd been found. The fact that he was aware was a miracle in itself.
His situation was frustrating beyond comprehension. He tried to activate his transformation, but was rewarded with the sound of grinding gears and pain. He was stuck in a terrible position, injured and venerable. Quite often it was his opponent that was left in such a manner and he was able to bask in the victory. Now he was forced to wait and hope his self repair kicked in. Oh how the tables had viciously turned.