"Hey, Scratch!" Kayla called as she and Jazz, in his holo form, entered the proprietor's musical domain.

Although it was at a low volume, the radio could clearly be heard playing in the back of the store; sending a flow of soft rock throughout. The saboteur, meanwhile, glanced around-no sign of the guy. Maybe if he tried calling him, "Yo', Scratch! Where ya' at, man?"

Suddenly, the store owner's head popped up from behind a shelf; sporting the biggest grin, "Hey! Look who's here!" A hand appeared soon after; waving to them, "Come on back!"

Then, just as quickly as he rose up, he ducked back down again, prompting the musical duo to head back and see just what he was so excited about. But as the now-human Autobot rounded the bend with Kayla carefully in tow, he was greeted with the sight of a mirad of boxes scattered across the floor. Many of them were open, revealing large stashes of records and cassette tapes. Others simply had a label on them, ranging from "Movie Soundtracks", to…"Summer Bikini Beach Ball Bash"? (He daren't ask what was in that box…) Thankfully, the elder musician must've kept the teenager in mind, for all the boxes were pushed against the walls, keeping the path clear. Speaking of whom, the man was seated Indian style on the floor between the shelving units; putting new things on display and other things being stored away in the many boxes surrounding him.

Clearly aware of the noise being made, the girl inquired, "What's goin' on?"

"Yeah, man", the saboteur added in, "Why's da' place startin' ta' look like a warehouse?"

"Inventory!" the store owner practically cheered. With a huge smile, he turned to his compadres as if he'd just won the lottery, "You wouldn't believe it! This place was almost a ghost town before we did that concert a few days ago. Now, all of a sudden, the door never stays closed." He pulled out an album as he spoke, and proceeded to wave it around for emphasis, "Calls've been comin' in from all over, askin' for all kinds of stuff." He then leaned in; eyes wide, "A few even bought some vinyl records. Vinyl…I can't remember the last time someone bought vinyl."

The whole time her mentor spoke, the red head's smile grew bigger by the second, "That's great! Glad to hear it all worked out."

"Yeah, and it's all thanks to you guys", he pointed. It was then he snapped his fingers, as if he remembered something. With a grunt, he slowly pushed himself to his feet and stepped over the wall of boxes. Laying a hand on her shoulder, he replied, "Speakin' of listenin', just a few days ago, I took that Beastie Boys song 'Intergalactic', and mixed it with 'Rocket'. Ya' wanna' hear it?"

"Sure", she nodded.

"Head on back then", he grinned, "Everything's set up the way it always is, and don't worry about the boxes; I made sure they're out of the way."

"And lo and behold; the man thinks of everything", she teased as she let her hand slide across the shelf for guidance. With caring smirks, the two musicians watched her go, and Kayla disappeared through a side door.

A moment of silence went by, before Scratch turned back around to his only companion left, "Say, Jazz; there's some stuff in the back room I gotta' sort through." A tilt of the head and then, "Ya' wouldn't mind helpin' your old, hippie friend, would ya'?"

To that, the saboteur couldn't help but laugh, then gestured with his hand, "Point da' way."

Grabbing a stack of tapes near him, the store owner made his way to and around his desk, to another door practically camouflaged by a collage of posters. The entrance was already open a crack, so seeing as how his hands were full, he used one of his giant, black boots to push the door open the rest of the way. All the while, the Autobot followed close behind, and stole a glance around as he entered a part of the store he'd never been in before. The "storage room", if you will, was more of a long hallway than anything else, with a few tiny rooms and closets stemming from it. Oddly enough, it was also the only room with a carpet…an orange, shag carpet…clearly, this was the room that time forgot, with piles of…um…ecletic items reaching the ceiling.

Jazz almost let out a chuckle at the sight, had it not been for the elder musician, who began to motion to his odd collection, "Okay; each one of these boxes are labeled. Take everything from the 80's to today and put it over there." He then pointed to an empty corner.

The saboteur merely smiled, "Ya' got it."

With that, the two music connoisseurs set to work. The radio was still playing in the other room, giving them something to bop along to as they unceremoniously dumped and pushed crates up and down the hall. Boring as it may seemed, the Autobot didn't mind the task one bit; taking the time to examine the various contents and expand his cultural knowledge. (Already, he had ten songs and five musicals he wanted to listen to.) Scratch, meanwhile, was digging through a collection of concert memorabilia, when he glanced up to check his friend's progress. Well, all of the boxes were almost moved, and…how odd…was Jazz still wearing that same white T-shirt, black pants, and sunglasses? Rubbing his chin, he remarked, "I don't wanna' sound like a jerk, but don't ya' wear anything else?"

The musician in question paused his rummaging for only a second, before letting out a laugh, "I bathe if dat's what ya' mean." He then turned to face him and shrugged, "I jus' like black n' white, dat's all."

To that, the store owner smiled…but raised an eyebrow as well.

Turning back to the hunt that got interrupted, the saboteur pushed a few more boxes off to the side, when suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a strange, white glob, gathering dust on the floor. His curiosity aroused, he picked up the mystery object with a quick hand sweep; holding it out in front of himself when it suddenly unfolded itself. However, the tacky, sparkly, jumpsuit reminiscent of Elvis Presley that was revealed, only presented more of a mystery. With his sunglasses sliding further down his face, he couldn't help but exclaim, "What da' heck is dis' thing?"

The elder musician paused in his cleaning to look up at what had caused such an outburst, only to immediately home in on the garments being flung around. His eyes lighting up, he took one massive leap over to his friend and snatched the suit out of his hands. To which, he replied with a grin, "Hey! I've been lookin' for this! It's my dancin' clothes. I used to go out to the disco clubs all the time." His face then turned to one of puzzlement as he held the clothes nearer to his frame, adding in, "Wonder if I could still fit in this…"

One of the Autobot's eyes couldn't help but twitch as a rather…disturbing thought came to mind. His voice a mixture of panic and disgust, he shuttered, "Uh…no offense, man, but I think ma' eyes've been burned 'nough wit' dat' image alone."

To that, Scratch let out a huge, belly laugh, "Aww, come on! Did you really think I meant that? I can't even imagine fitting in my platform shoes, let alone this." Giving the jumpsuit one last glance, he then tossed it over the back of a nearby chair.

The saboteur shook his head and grinned; turning back to what he was doing and silently adding in a sigh of relief, knowing he averted an optic-searing catastrophe. But he soon learned he wasn't out of the woods yet, for no sooner did he glance away, did the store owner call from behind, "Hey, Jazz! Guess who I am."

Once again, the Autobot turned around; thanking Primus for the man's early call (or was it a warning?). Either way, his eyes met the sight of the elder musician sporting the biggest smirk-supporting a huge boom box on his shoulder. The man then waved his hand and spoke, as if addressing a crowd, "Gentlemen…let's broaden our minds! Laurence?"

He then pressed the "play" button, and a rather-funky beat emerged from the speakers. Not long after, the high pitched vocals of Prince sounded off, declaring he was a party man and for all to hail the new king in town. For added effect, the musician rocked to the beat; puffing out his chest as if he were the king. But despite enjoying the 80's retro, Jazz, all the while, could only stand there and watch with slight confusion.

It wasn't until a few minutes of boogying-down that Scratch finally killed the music; realizing the joke was going nowhere. He barely hid his frustration as he sighed and smiled at his one man audience, "I take it you've never seen Batman before?" The saboteur shook his head, to which the store owner hauled the out dated stereo off his shoulder and set it down, "Please tell me you at least know what a boom box is."

"Of course I do", the Autobot answered; happy to be on the same page again, "A buddy a' mine still has one…he's a real blast ta' be wit'…" As he spoke, he hauled a box full of CD's over to another vacant spot, when just then, he took notice of a very small room. How did he miss it? he wondered. Perhaps it was due to the piles of items strewn about that the little space went unnoticed…or maybe because all that was in it was a chair, some old recording equipment, and a mic stand. Whatever the reason, the musician couldn't help but ask, "Say, what's dis' room for?"

Scratch dropped whatever he was doing and came to his side; wondering what had his friend so fascinated now. Peeking into the enclosure, he explained, "Oh, that's where I taught Kayla how to play guitar." He then smiled and tilted his head as he remembered, "She was so cute…lotta' memories in that room."

Jazz nodded in recognition, only to turn to his fellow musician, as he just thought of something, "Ya' know, I've known ya' guys fer' a while now, but both of ya' never told me how ya' two met in da' first place. At da' concert, didn't ya' say it was years ago?"

To that, the store owner nodded, "Yep…" A far away look appeared as he added, "…but it still feels like yesterday…"
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Scratch was peacefully strumming away on his powder blue guitar; humming to the beat of his own creation. Morning had dissolved to early afternoon, and the day was fairly uneventful. So, to pass the time, he'd long since reclined back in his desk chair; laying on some good tunes until someone moseyed into his store. And speak of the do-gooder, not long into his song, he distinctly heard the sound of the front door open and shut, causing him to pause in his melody to glance up.

Two people, a man and a woman, had entered the establishment; both of whom looked to be in their late 20's to early 30's. The man, who had short, brown hair and brown eyes, strode in first, with a hint of pride in his step. But in true, gentleman fashion, he had a caring arm around the woman, who sported short, red hair…and who seemed to scope the place out with a quick sweep of her blue eyes. Due to the shelves, the musician could only see them from the waist up; their ring hands kept hidden, but if their loving grip were any indication, basic instinct told him they were married.

"Hey there!" he greeted; setting his guitar down in the process and gesturing to his wide collection of songs, "Welcome to my lair o' music. Anything special you're lookin' for?"

The woman addressed him with a half grin, "Oh, no thanks; just browsing."

With a nod, the store owner was about to grab his guitar and resume playing, when all of a sudden, the couple made their way around the shelf, and he was met with an odd, but-adorable sight. Turns out, what he thought was a duo, was actually a trio, for trailing right next to the two was a little girl. Her short, red hair was tied up in pigtails, and she wore the cutiest, white sundress with an aqua blue band in the middle, and sandals of the same color. If it weren't for her small pair of sunglasses resting low on the bridge of her nose, he wouldn't have noticed her pale, blue eyes looking around…

…but as she held the woman's hand, he then spotted the tiny, white cane clutched in her other hand…

…awww…she was blind…

Well…that certainly didn't give him permission to skimp on the manners, and darn it, she was just so cute. With a warm smile, he steadily rose from his seat and leaned over his desk, "And just who's this little missy?"

This time, it was the man who turned to him; blinking a few times before looking down at the girl in question, "Oh, this is my-"

But before he could finish, the little red head sought to make introductions herself. Letting go of the woman's hand, she took a few steps forward; following the stranger's voice no doubt. With a bright smile and hand outstretched, she replied politely, "Hi, I'm Kayla."

His grin equally happy, Scratch leaned over the desk and gingerly took the offered hand for a gentle shake, "And I'm an old hippie." To that, they both shared a laugh.

A moment later, the mother spoke; finishing what her husband started, "She's my daughter."

The store owner nodded in acknowledgement, before turning back to his new found friend, "And just how old are you, little princess?"

"Six", she answered sweetly.

The musician gasped; pretending to be surprised, "Wow…you're gettin' big." The statement made the girl smile even bigger.

The couple, meanwhile, looked on at the exchange in a proud silence-impressed with the girl's openness. It was then the woman noticed a chair situated near Scratch's desk, and an idea came to mind. Slowly, so as not to startle her, she put both hands on Kayla's shoulders and turned her so she'd face her. As gently as she could muster, she said, "Kay-your dad and I are going to shop for a couple minutes. Why don't you wait in this chair over here?"

The girl gave a soft nod, "Okay…"

With nothing else said, her mother turned her around once more and began to guide her to the seat…
…that was, until the father placed a hand on his wife's shoulder; holding her back. But despite the sudden stop, the girl continued onward-sliding from her mom's grasp. Her eyes widening, the woman turned to her husband with a worried look; her voice above barely a whisper, "Pete…"

But the man stayed firm; mumbling back in calm, reassurance, "Let her try on her own…"

With that, the couple merely looked on as their daughter slowly ventured forward; using her tiny cane to sweep the floor as she headed off in the direction her mom pushed her. Thankfully, it wasn't long before she came in contact with the chair; feeling around with much curiosity before finally sitting down. All the woman could do was sigh in relief.

As for Scratch, who bared witness to the whole scene in his own comfortable silence, he simply turned to the two with a smirk; shrugging, "Well, if ya' need anything, give a shout."

At those words, the parents walked away and commenced with the browsing; giving Kayla a quick glance every now and then. For a while, all was quiet-save for the store owner, who whistled the seconds away and tapped a beat for good measure. But soon, he cast a sidelong glance at the little girl, who remained in the chair as told…but in the way she playfully kicked her feet, it soon became apparent she was becoming rather bored. Just her unseeing eyes were enough to say she wasn't sad, but wasn't happy either to be left waiting.

Not liking the silence one bit, the musician decided to try his hand at a conversation. As much as he hated to say it-best not to leave her alone in the dark. So, with a yawn and a stretch, he dutifully picked up his guitar once again, then addressed her, "So…what's your mommy and daddy do?"

It took a second for the red head to realize she was being spoken to, but quickly, she turned in his direction. In an unsnippy, but still rather pointed fashion, she answered, "I don't call em' that; just mom and dad. Dad's gonna' get a pro-a prm-pra-pri-"

"Promotion?" Scratch tried to aid her struggle.

"Yeah", she nodded, "Dad's gonna' get a promotion to a captain. He fights bad guys n' stuff, so 'daddy' sounds kinda' not tough."

From across the store, her father could be heard, chuckling. The musician, himself, couldn't hold back a smirk-intrigued by her kid logic. As he tuned his guitar and settled back in his chair, he figured he better just play along, "Oh, I see…"

Seemingly satisfied that he understood her reasoning, the girl continued, "An' my mom's a nurse. She helps save people."

The store owner couldn't help but notice the hint of pride in her voice…it's a great feeling to be able to talk about one's parents like that. To which, he stated, rather frankly, "Sounds like your folks are superheroes."

"I guess…" she said with a smile.

Scratch then gave her another glance; eyebrow raised, "And what do you wanna' be?"

"I dunno'…" she merely shrugged as she gave it some thought, "I dunno' what I'm good at."

The musician heard that one before from many a friend. To that, he reassured, "Well, give it time…ya' never know where you'll find inspiration."

It was then the aging hippie began to strum his guitar; producing a calming melody that floated throughout the store. It was purely instrumental and simple, yet was light and cheery, causing him to smile softly. Kayla, all the while, leaned forward a tad in her seat; her sightless eyes widening in both curiosity and wonder. She was aware of an instrument being played, but question was-which one? For a long while, she merely sat and listened to the comforting piece of music, but eventually, curiosity won over, and she finally asked, "What's that sound?"

"My guitar", he answered simply as he continued to play.

Her voice didn't betray her awe and amazement; its one thing to listen to music-it's another to find someone who can make it. "You can play?" she practically gasped.

"Mm-hmm", the store owner nodded, "My dad taught me."

"What song is it?" she asked.

"The one from my soul", he answered simply. He then paused a moment to gaze over at her once more, "It's where all music comes from."

The girl tilted her head in confusion, "How do ya' do that?"

This time, Scratch had to give it some thought. He'd answered without thinking-forgetting for a second just who he was talking to. To him, it was simple, but how to explain this to a six year old? He rubbed his chin as he contemplated the matter, before finally snapping his fingers as an idea struck.

"Well", he replied, "when I'm sad, I play like this." He then began to strum the instrument again; this time choosing a very somber piece. Soft and slow, the tune had noticeably sent a much darker feel to whatever the sound reached, and the red head suddenly felt a tad chilly, despite it being the start of summer.

The musician went on a little longer, before stopping to say, "And when I'm happy, I play like this." With a grin, he quickly reverted back to the cheery tune he was playing before, and the girl was nothing short of relieved…in fact, as the man continued to play, it wasn't long before his audience member found herself humming along. Bobbing her head in time to the beat, she even went so far as to sing a few scales of her own.

To that, Scratch looked at her with both a smile and an eyebrow raised-it threw him a little to hear such a young child be able to hit the many octaves as such. Pausing in his strumming once more, he pointed out, "That's a very nice voice you have."

Kayla couldn't help but blush, "Thanks. I take a chorus class at the new school I go to."

The store owner just shook his head, "Wish I could sing like that. A guitarist isn't nearly complete without a good voice."

It was then the girl fell silent; a far away look on her face as her smile faded slightly. Her voice softer, she mumbled, "I wish I could play…"

Now more surprised than ever, the musician set his guitar down, before leaning in; eyes fixed on the red head. Quite frankly, he stated, "Who says you can't?"

Her eyes wide, she couldn't find her voice as she suddenly fumbled with her cane, "Well, I…"

"Can't see?" the man finished, "Now what makes you think you can't play 'cause you can't see? Haven't ya' heard of Ray Charles?" The girl shook her head, although her body perked up a bit at his rather blunt statement. He then continued with a shrug, "Well, point is-you can do anything if you set your mind to it."

Kayla appeared to be deep in thought as she contemplated his words. It was during the silence that Scratch looked at his guitar, then slowly scrutinized the little girl. She was smart for her age-no two ways about it, and by the way she "corrected" the addressing of her parents, she had spunk too. Most of all, she had a great singing voice, all of which was the perfect combination for…well…it sounded like she was looking for some direction…could it be done? His own father taught him how to play when he was eight…and his last student was when he was 30. He was 42 now…it was a while, but…aww, what the heck? The little angel was so sweet, and he was due for some change anyway. With a friendly grin, the musician leaned in and replied in an almost sing-song voice, "…if you want, I can teach you how to play."

The red head's face lit up in an instant; stunned at his offer to show her his craft, "Really?"

"Sure", he nodded; getting excited himself. But he quickly added, "With your folks permission of course."

Perfect timing, for at that moment, Kayla's parents strode up to his desk-cassette tapes in hand, ready for purchase. With a thankful nod, the musician began to ring up the items, during which his new little friend couldn't contain herself anymore. Carefully, but quickly, she rose from the chair, and using his desk as a guide, she ran her hand across the wood-following the old piece of furniture until she literally bumped into her mother, who had, by then, gotten her soundtracks handed back to her. Sporting the biggest smile, the red head tugged at the woman's pant leg, "Mom! Mom! Is that you?"

The lady in question immediately looked down to find that her daughter had somehow made her way over to her…and what was she in a tizzy about? "Yes, Kay. What do you want?" she answered.

Her grin growing wider, the girl exclaimed, "I know what I wanna' be! I wanna' make music like he can!"

To that, the couple could only look at each other and blink in astonishment-she wanted to what? A long moment of silence went by, before her father finally started, "Well, um…"

"Can I? Can I? Please?" she almost cheered as she bounced up and down on her heels, "The man said he can teach me how! I wanna' do something cool too! Please?"

The woman ran a hand through her hair; looking anything but peppy. How could the red head spring something so unexpected on them at such short notice? Did she seriously mean this? "Well…" she stuttered, "I-I don't know, I-"

"It really wouldn't be any trouble, maim", Scratch interjected, and the mother gazed up to find the store owner looking at her with a heart warming smile, "I haven't gotten the opportunity to teach someone guitar in a long time. And I think it'd be really-interesting for us both."

The woman looked at the man for a moment, trying to judge if that grin of his was sincere…but he did offer his services himself. "Well, um…" she began, then paused to turn to her equally-surprised husband, "What do you think?"

There was a long pause as the father contemplated the matter. His eyes darting between the musician and his wife, he finally spoke in a low voice-almost to himself, "Well…most of the time, the guy's not looking at the strings, so…I guess it could work…" He then gazed at his daughter; keeping his tone firm, "It's your decision, Kay…but don't think this is a spur of the moment. Learning how to play an instrument takes a lot of hard work and practice…are you sure you wanna' do this?"

The girl nodded in excitement, "Uh-huh! I'll work really hard like you tell me to! I promise!" She added in a mock salute for emphasis.

Her dad then turned to Scratch, in need of one more convincing argument, "Um…what would this all cost?"

The store owner just shook his head and smirked, "We can work somethin' out. The more I think about it, the more excited I get. I've never seen anyone so pumped to make music before." Glancing over at the red head, he added, "I can tell her heart's in the right place."

So that was it then; a man excited to teach and a girl excited to learn…how could anyone say no to that? And thinking about it, maybe it was time his daughter took up a hobby; if anything, to help increase her motor skills. After one final pause, the father let out a sigh of defeat, "I guess we can consider it."

"Sounds great", the musician smiled, to which, Kayla let out a cheer.

Her mother gave an equally-happy grin; pleased that the girl finally took an interest to heart. Turning back to the man who'd given the offer in the first place, she replied, "Thank you very much for this. We'll let you know in a day or two, Mr…" She then tilted her head, "Oh, we never got your name."

To that, the store owner smirked, "Just call me, Scratch."
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"And as they say, the rest is history", the musician shrugged, giving Jazz a sideways glance as he finished up his story. His eyes became distant as he added, "I really wish you could've been there…that girl was so cute, and so head strong. Two years later, she played her first song for her folks…I don't care who you are-that's one determined kid, I'll tell you that."

Ever knowing of her other accomplishments with the Autobots, the saboteur could only chuckle, "No argument der', man."

A moment went by, during which the two music connoisseurs remained quiet; lost in their own thoughts. That was, until Scratch broke the silence with a huff and looked to the door, "Well, speaking of whom, Kayla should be coming out any minute now." He then looked to his friend with a grin, "Thanks for helpin' me back here."

The disguised 'Bot returned his gratitude with a nod of the head, "No problem." He then gave the back room one last glance over. Seemingly satisfied with the tag team work they accomplished, the saboteur rose from the box that doubled as his story time seat, and began to make a break for the door…

…that was…until the elder musician uttered from behind, "And, um-by the way; tell the other Autobots I said 'thanks' for comin' to the show."

Jazz was almost to the door, when the word "Autobots" hit his ears…and his body instantly froze in place. He and Kayla never agreed to tell Scratch of who and what he really was…how did he know?! And more importantly, did he truly mean that in a nice way, or was he being sarcastic? For once in a lifetime, his mind drew a blank, due in part to his utter shock at this sudden announcement. All he could do was slowly turn around, to see the store owner with his arms crossed-sporting both a mischievous and knowing smile. Although the grin calmed him a tad, the 'Bot, never the less, starred wide-eyed at him; his mouth opening, but no words coming forth.

Thankfully, his friend decided to speak first; holding up a hand, "Before you ask; no-Kay didn't tell me. I figured it out on my own." Humming a laugh, he added, "I mean, come on; you guys are on the news all the time-like I don't know when an Autobot's in my own parking lot once a week?"

The saboteur tried to laugh along with him, but came up short…he prayed the guy didn't take the secret the wrong way. Blinking a few times, he finally managed out, "W-we were gonna' tell ya', but-"

"-but you thought I'd think you were trying to steal her away? Right?" Scratch finished. Jazz let his eyes shifting to the floor answer for him, to which the elder musician let loose a deep sigh, "Look, I'm 53 years old. This is my shop-I'm gonna' be here forever. Kayla's almost 18-she's gotta' long life ahead of her, and I know she's already found the greatest friends anyone could ask for…I'm not about to keep her from that."

The Autobot had perked his head up at that point; surprised at his flattering opinion of his comrades, despite not having met them before. The store owner then looked him square in the eye as he continued, "I've known her for years; I know she'll still come and visit…and I know she's gone through some hard times not too long ago." A pause, and then, "I'll always be her friend, but she needs a brother more than an old hippie right now." He then smiled and motioned to the door, "Go to her…"

Jazz regarded the man for a long moment; trying to take in everything he just heard. It was then he remembered what Kayla said to him a while back-something about her mentor "not being born yesterday"…and it only made him internally laugh at how right she was. Just one more reason why he liked humans so much-their lives were so short compared to a Cybertronian…and yet so much wisdom could be found within just one. Here was a man who was a hippie and proud of it, yet was open to change, even if it wasn't in his parameters of normalcy…and if a giant robot could help his protégé', well then that was fine with him.

With these thoughts in mind, Jazz could only give the man a spark-felt grin, "Thanks, man…"

To that, Scratch smiled and nodded, "Just tryin' to keep the music alive." He then raised an eyebrow, "Now do I get to see your robot form or what?"

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AN: I didn't know if I would ever do another story with these characters, but in case I didn't, I knew I had to at least include the origin of how Kayla and Scratch met, and how and why she took up guitar.
And yes; Scratch knows the secret...you didn't REALLY think he was THAT naive, did you?