1)Those of you following my Seeker story, the name has been changed along with the updating schedule, as I will put in the next update when I have a chance to finish it. For those of you reading this and following my other stories, I've decided not to do an updating schedule. I write on different stories as I feel like writing on them, and I think the pressure of keeping up a schedule is too much, so no more schedule. I will try to update something every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, as those are the days I generally have off, but I can make no promises.
2) I had something else, but I plumb forgot what it was... Oh well.
10. Sport
4,732 words
"This is a bad idea," Elisa stated hesitantly as she stared up at the looming Decepticon fortress.
"Coward," Scarlett scoffed as she leaned around the other girl. Her door-wings twitched as the wind caressed them. She scowled again, cursing the Allspark and all things Cybertronian over the fact that every gust of winds sent a tickling sensory wave through her wings, and
"I do not believe that is how wind on door-wings feels."
I paused in my writing to glance over at Optimus. His optics were locked on my computer screen, probably glancing back over my work. It was Saturday, and Optimus had announced it was time for some more "firsts." In other words, I had been spending too much time wrapped up in my writing over the last four hours, and he was tired of reading my sparkling stories. I had hesitantly agreed to allow Optimus to sit on my desk and use my touch phone as a planner of sorts. Optimus was bored easily nowadays, and he had taken to writing up various things that might be amusing to him as hobbies. Seeing as my pencils were longer than his arms, he had taken to using my Samsung Infuse as a datapad of sorts. I had known, of course, that my phone would not keep Optimus amused for very long, but I had expected him to at least mind his own business while I worked.
"Really?" I asked flatly, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Then tell me, noble Cybertronian, how exactly does wind feel on door-wings?" Optimus shrugged.
"I am uncertain, but I doubt it tickles. Prowl never giggled when we were in Oklahoma City." I paused, my whole mind stopping for a second as I came to the realization that Optimus had just made such a joke. I was quickly growing accustomed to his dry wit and smart one-liners, but this was the first time Optimus had been… silly.
"That's not evidence that it doesn't tickle, Prime," I disagreed. "It just proves that Prowl doesn't know how to laugh."
"We shall agree to disagree," Optimus stated, and he looked back down at my cellphone and continued his typing. I snorted in amusement as continued my own typing.
-through her wings, and she forced her attention back onto the fortress in front of her. She could see Elisa crossing her arms across her chest, but she shrugged it off. Ellie was a coward that just wanted to hide. Scarlett, however, wanted answers, and she knew that Megatron could give them to her.
"Megatron would probably step on her," Optimus stated plaintively. I rolled my eyes as I looked down at him.
"You haven't read the whole story, Opt. She's got part of his spark signature because of the Allspark."
"I still doubt Megatron would give her the time of day. She is human; that is reason enough to kill her."
"Yes, but Megatron is still her only source of answers right now, other than the humans that played with her DNA, but they're not her friends right now." Optimus gave me a look that told me exactly what he thought about that mildly-cliché plot twist.
"And she cannot go to the Autobots because…?" he prodded. I sighed loudly, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.
"Because she doesn't know the Autobots exist," I stated as if he should know that. Optimus snorted in amusement.
"Of course not," he muttered as he turned his optics downwards.
"We should enter from that door over there. They will be less likely to notice us," Prowl observed as he stepped up beside Scarlett, his wings flaring as he sensed his twin's determination.
"You just said she had no knowledge of the Autobots!" Optimus exclaimed, rising to his feet as he pointed at the screen with exaggerated motions that made me giggle. "Prowl is standing right beside her. And Prowl does not have a twin," he added as an afterthought.
"Not during his first life. He had recently been reincarnated by the Allspark to save Scarlett's life by taking some of her spark when she was transformed into a Cybertronian via evil scientist. That's how he became Scarlett's twin," I explained. Optimus blinked.
"And where does Megatron come in?" he asked, his voice holding confusion. I grinned.
"He was the one that inadvertently helped her escape when he left Hoover Dam," I informed him cheerfully. Optimus frowned at me in confusion.
"I fear I do not understand," he admitted. I opened my mouth to respond, asking him how he didn't know about Megatron destroying Sector Seven and Hoover Dam, but my brain flicked on just before the words came out. Of course, he wouldn't know. He was from G1, and I had hidden all my Transformers movies in hopes of keeping Optimus perfectly oblivious of Michael Bay. Not that I personally had anything against Michael Bay, but the last movie, Dark of the Moon in 2011, Ironhide had been murdered by Optimus' mentor. And Chicago had been destroyed, but that happened every other apocalypse movie, so I was certain he'd see a city destroyed eventually on the big screen, but that was another thing I was trying to put off.
Now that I thought of it, someone close to Optimus died every movie, barring Revenge of the Fallen. Of course, in that one, Optimus died himself. Hence, the reason behind hiding all Michael Bay movies. I didn't want Optimus to be scarred by that man's incessant need to murder all the Autobots (and Decepticons, but that was water under the bridge).
"The details don't matter, Optimus. Just… you know what? It doesn't matter anyways. It's my story. Scarlett's gonna go inside, Megatron's gonna be intrigued by the bond, and he's not going to step on her."
"But that wouldn't happen. You are taking Megatron out of character, and I shall not stand for it!" On this last word, Optimus crossed his arms and glared at me. I would have been intimidated if not for his small smile. I raised an eyebrow at his strange behavior and sat back in my chair, crossing mirroring his position with a small grin.
"You must be very bored," I noted evenly. Optimus gave me a mockingly incredulous look.
"I hardly think my disagreement with this… travesty, this cliché falsehood is spawned from boredom," he disagreed, shifting his weight to his other foot as he stared me down. I gave a disbelieving breath of air.
"How do you know it's cliché?" I questioned, eyes narrowing. Honestly, I was more embarrassed at what he was getting at than angry.
"The plotline is one I have seen before. The femme falls in love with the evil mech, yet she is strangely connected to him, and he ultimately falls in love with her…" Optimus trailed off as he looked down at his pedes. I felt concern growing in my chest when he moved his right hand to his chin in thought. I believe I mentioned last time I wrote that thoughtful silences were bad when coming from Optimus? This particular silence wasn't as long as others, but I knew that whatever conclusion he had come to would be somehow painful. Optics that were dimmed in thought suddenly lit up, then a sly grin spread across his face.
"You plan on pairing your character with Megatron, don't you?" he questioned. My eyes widened as I stared down at him. Was that really the conclusion he had come to? Somehow… that didn't seem as bad as I had thought it would be. However, his next sentence drew me up short. "You like my brother, don't you?" I blinked as my mouth opened and closed, my mind unable to come up with words at the weird accusation Optimus had just laid at my feet. Optimus had a huge grin on his face at this point, obviously taking joy in my speechlessness. I scoffed in an attempt to throw the mech off.
"No, I'm not," I disagreed, and it was true. I was actually pairing this character with Jazz, but saying so would not help my case. Besides, there was a black spiral on the shelf that held my Megatron/OC story, and I desperately hoped Optimus never touched it. "And I don't like your brother," I added. Optimus was not one to be so easily swayed, though.
"If you fear my rejection, you needn't. I believe you would make a fine match for my brother," the miniature prime stated magnanimously. I stuttered loudly at that statement.
"Optimus, I – I mean – you – but Megatron and I – that's not funny!"
"On the contrary, I find your infatuation with my sibling to be rather humorous, if not adorable."
"I'm not infatuated with your brother!"
"You shouldn't deny your feelings, Tex. Imagine how pained he will be once Persobots Incorporated creates a Personal in his image. His spark will break when I inform him that you deny your feelings for him."
"Persobots isn't making Decepticons!"
"So you do not deny that fight your feelings for him?"
"Optimus, I don't have feelings for him!"
Optimus' amused grin remained on his face for during our whole exchange, and I felt a small surge of uncertainty when it suddenly dropped into a small, sly smile. I had once written in a story that seeing Prowl smile slyly normally meant pain for somebody. Seeing Optimus smile like that, though, sent small shivers down my spine, and while I'd never admit it, I could see a little bit of Megatron in that smile. Luckily, Optimus was nowhere near as malicious as Megatron. Still, he had his days.
"Of course, you do not pine after Megatron; you are too focused on that human mech, Dylan."
Okay, now that made me blush. I wouldn't admit it, but I did really like Dylan, and I was certain that he liked me back. Unfortunately, I would never act on that affection. For one, I didn't want to make our friendship awkward. We liked what we had, and we didn't want to chance ruining it because we thought we loved each other. Secondly, Dylan had a girl in the wings that he'd been holding out for for quite a while. The last I wanted was to be dumped when she finally became available, or worse. I didn't want to be that girl that the guy dated for pity because he would feel bad if he dumped her.
"I don't like Dylan like that!" I disagreed firmly.
"You hesitated," Optimus pointed out. "Sentinel Prime once said that hesitation is a sign of deceit."
"I didn't hesitate!" I argued. "Besides, why are you so determined to find out who I like? Trying to set me up, Optimus?" I leaned close as I said this last part, eyes narrowed slightly as I studied his reaction, or lack thereof. He shrugged his shoulders again, a movement the Optimus of my headcanon would have never used.
"I would enjoy seeing you court another," Optimus admitted. I groaned loudly as I sat back in my seat.
"You are just like my mom," I grumbled. Optimus stiffened at that statement and locked his optics on my face.
"Explain," he ordered in that Commander Voice that nobody could hope to disobey. I grinned internally at the obvious distaste in his voice. Who would've thought Optimus' dislike would be earned by a human woman simply by refusing to let him sit in on a doctor's appointment.
"She really wants me to get a boyfriend. Said that if I stopped obsessing over Transformers, I might already have one," I responded. Optimus cocked his helm at me.
"I don't understand," he admitted, and this time, I was the one who shrugged.
"When I went out with Zach, I couldn't think of anything to talk about," I explained. "I didn't want to talk about Transformers, because I knew I'd go Super Nerd if I did, so I stuck with football and cheerleading because that's all I know. I haven't been out to see any movies lately, I don't like adding to the gossip mill, and I don't really do anything aside from writing. I'm socially awkward around people I haven't been talking to for years unless I have someone else around to take the attention off me when I'm ready to step back from the spotlight."
"I… see," Optimus responded slowly. Yet another mask, he assumed. I noticed that he was preparing to add to that statement when my mother's lilting tones shot up the stairs.
"Marie! Come change out the laundry and fold the clothes!" she called in that loud voice that I had finally inherited just in time for cheer camp. I gave a weak groan as I rose to my feet, rolling my chair away from the desk as I held my arms out for Optimus. The little mech only shook his helm, though.
"I cannot assist you in this endeavor as most of the clothes are twice my height. I will remain here and work on my paperwork." I wondered idly what that paperwork was. It wasn't like he had any army-related paperwork to deal with. No matter, I would stay out of his documents just as he generally stayed out of mine. He respected my privacy, and I would return the favor.
"If you're sure," I responded with a shrug. Optimus gave a firm nod.
"I am. Complete your chores. I will be here when you are finished."
With his reassurance, I shrugged again and quit the room. I could hear Billy in his room, talking on the phone, and I knew without a doubt that he was speaking to his fiancée, Amy. I pointedly ignored the cheerful tones as I strode by his room, beating down my jealousy savagely. I wouldn't be jealous of him. Optimus said I had no reason to be. Instead, I threw myself into my chores, taking little time in hefting the dried clothes from the dryer to the couch to be folded and returning to the laundry room to switch the wet clothes into the dryer.
Mom had just washed the blues, which was both a joy and an irritation in my eyes. I wore mostly blue and black, not because I was emo or anything. I just loved the colors, and anytime I ended finding a shirt I liked, it was either in blue, black, or white. Just my luck, I guess. So while it was good that most of my clothes were now washed, it sucked because most of the shirts had to be air dried, which meant more work. With a heavy sigh, I pulled an empty laundry basket over and started sorting clothes.
Our laundry room was small and sat underneath our staircase. The dryer sat against the bottom of the lower staircase, and the washer sat against the wall that held up the top of the staircase. Both machines were front-loaders, which made switching them out easier. I knelt between them as I sorted, tossing dryable clothes into the dryer while air dried clothes were tossed in the laundry basket behind me. Once everything was sorted, I rose to my feet, tossed a dryer sheet into the dryer, and started the drying cycle.
Well, one thing down. This was what I hated about Saturdays, I decided as I propped the laundry basket against my hip. Saturdays were always the days that I had to clean. Ever since he had graduated, Billy hadn't been putting as much work into the kitchen. Instead, Dad had a habit of doing the dishes because my older brother didn't seem to have the time anymore. I would also like to take a moment to note that the sink is currently filled with dishes, my father is due home in thirty minutes, and my brother is upstairs on the phone with his fiancée. Maybe it was just me being bitter, but it didn't seem fair that he could be upstairs chatting away, yet I couldn't be upstairs writing.
Once again, though, I shoved the thoughts away as I strode to the backdoor just behind and to the left of Mom's chair. The Texas heat hit me like a jackhammer, and I wondered if there was even going to be a Fall season this year. After all, it was mid-October, the thirteenth to be specific, and we were still in the mid-nineties. I closed the door behind me firmly as slid the flip-flops abandoned in the shadows onto my feet before striding toward the clothing line in the center of our yard. I set down the basket of clothing and started hanging up the clothes with the clothespins already on the clothing wire.
I suppose this was the best thing about this time of year: it would only take about thirty minutes for these clothes to dry, and they would be soft and warm once they were taken down. There were actually a lot of people in my neighborhood that used these clothing lines, and most of them used the lines for all their clothes. Personally, I didn't enjoy the idea of some creeper finding and/or stealing my underwear simply because I didn't wanna buy a dryer. As it was, I worried sometimes that someone would jump the fence and steal my favorite shirts.
The second I was finished hanging clothes, I grabbed the basket at my feet and walked back inside, abandoning my flip-flops again at the doorstep. I strode inside, ignoring the goosebumps that rose at the drastic change in temperature, and immediately got to work on folding the clothes.
As I worked, I wondered if Billy and Amy were talking about wedding plans. It seemed like that was all Amy ever talked about whenever she came over – speaking of which, she'd be over tonight seeing as she spent weekends at our house in the spare bedroom that connected to the living area downstairs. There was a guest room upstairs, too, if one turned to the left at the apex of the stairs instead of right, which led to my room and the "rec room." My parents didn't want her sleeping upstairs, though, when her room would be so close to Billy's room, which was right across from the stairs. Not that they'd do anything – Amy was much too worried about fitting in her wedding dress to chance getting pregnant – but with my parents, it was better safe than sorry.
I guess it made sense, though. If I were getting married, I'm sure that would be all I'd want to talk about. On top of that, we were her future in-laws. We were supposed to be interested in her wedding plans, I suppose. That didn't change the fact that I hated listening to her go on and on about what colors she should have and what flowers and if she needs another bridesmaid and groomsman to make the bridal party look more even. It grated on my nerves sometimes.
"Marie, when you go upstairs, send your brother down to do the dishes before your father gets home," Mom ordered without glancing up from her book. I looked over at her, studying the book in her hands with a barely perceptible frown. The cover of the book held the picture of a blonde woman dressed only in a corset and slip entangled in the arms of a muscular male brunette only wearing pants. The woman had a single hand on the man's bare chest, and she stared up at him with an expression somewhere between naïve curiosity, fear, and awe. Disgusting. In the back of my mind, I hated that my mom read that trash. Maybe my bar was just set too high, but I could stand reading very few of her books.
I responded with a meek "yes, Mom" as I finished folding the last of the clothes and rose to my feet. As per usual, I left the clothes in folded stacks on the couch. My brother and I had an agreement, after all. He takes up the clothes after I fold them, and I put the dishes after he washes them. Win/win for both of us.
"Thank you, Marie," Mom called from her spot on her chair beside the couch, actually looking up at me this time. I shrugged her thanks off. It was my household duty. I got the living room and the laundry, and Billy got the kitchen and the dishes. Seeing my shrug, Mom frowned a little before returning to her book. I randomly wondered if she noticed that I didn't sing anymore as I worked. I quickly shoved that thought to the back of my mind, though. It was inconsequential what my mom noticed. The house was quieter without my racket, and that was probably a good thing, so why should I question it.
A glance at the clock showed that I had been folding for a good fifteen minutes, plenty of time for Optimus to get bored again, and I wondered what sort of strange conversation we'd have once I made it back to my room. It was already surreal enough listening to him tease me about liking his brother, and I was uncertain it could get any stranger than that. I moved up the stairs quickly, skipping every other step effortlessly as I reached the top. I quickly moved across the hall to Billy's door, and I knocked once before announcing flippantly through the wood that Mom wanted him to do his chores. I was already down the hall opening my door by the time he reached his. I closed my door just as he called my name. I knew he wouldn't bother me.
I turned my attention to my desk, and true to word, Optimus was typing away on my smartphone that was about a third his size. His attention stayed focused on the phone even I strode across the room toward the desk he was seated on, and for some reason, this struck me as suspicious. I narrowed my eyes as I reached the desk and hesitantly sat down in the chair before rolling up to the keyboard. I rolled my mouse to terminate the screensaver, and I scowled when I saw what had been done to my document.
The building was huge and foreboding, and Elisa felt in her very spark that she had just made the dumbest decision ever. She understood Scarlett's curiosity, her need to find answers, but infiltrating the Autobot's headquarters? It was insane. Scarlett might have been convinced that Optimus wouldn't kill them, but Elisa had her own doubts. She had never met this leader, only Scarlett had apparently met him one-on-one. Elisa didn't particularly believe the other female, but even if Scarlett had met him, ripping apart Hoover Dam wasn't the best way for this Optimus Prime to prove his protection for human life.
"This is a bad idea," Elisa stated hesitantly as she stared up at the looming Autobot fortress.
"Coward," Scarlett scoffed as she leaned around the other girl. Her door-wings twitched as the wind caressed them. She scowled again, cursing the Allspark and all things Cybertronian over the fact that every gust of winds sent a sensory wave through her wings, and she forced her attention back onto the fortress in front of her. She could see Elisa crossing her arms across her chest, but she shrugged it off. Ellie was a coward that just wanted to hide. Scarlett, however, wanted answers, and she knew that Optimus could give them to her.
"We should enter from that door over there. They will be less likely to notice us," Prowl observed as he stepped up beside Scarlett, his wings flaring as he sensed his twin's determination.
"Really, Optimus?" I questioned. As I scrolled back through the story, I could see that Optimus had switched out himself and Megatron as well as Autobot for Decepticon through the last three chapters I had written. I would say that he found the "find and replace" button in the Command Ribbon in Word, but it was obvious that he had changed other content to ensure that it matched with Autobot ideals, ideals that Scarlett, Elisa, Prowl, and Liam – who hadn't been mentioned in that last chapter – had mistaken for evil deeds, such as tearing apart Hoover Dam to save three teenagers that were being used as experiments.
"I repaired part of your story," Optimus informed me matter-a-factly. He was smiling, too, like a cat that knew it had done something naughty but knew it wouldn't get in trouble. "I must admit that your plot has quite a few holes, though. How did the children get into the Dam without being discovered until they were… 'zapped,' as you put it, by the Allspark? How did their parents not know of their disappearance?"
"Optimus," I groaned, flopping my head and arms onto the desktop in exasperation. "It's a story. Logic doesn't count."
"I disagree," Optimus argued as he approached my head. "Most of your other stories are very well thought out and planned. This is the only exception."
I groaned again as I threw myself back into my chair. "Oh, for the love of—"I cut myself off as I turned my gaze to the severe-looking Personal. "Sometimes, writers feel like writing something Mary-sue, something cliché! It's not like I was going to publish it!"
"That is inconsequential. If you wish to write a cliché plot, then you may, but I will not have a Decepticon sympathizer in my army, Private."
I didn't dignify this with a response. Instead, I simply saved the document and closed the file. If Optimus wanted to play this game, then I would too. I shut down the computer completely, and with an evil grin, I reached around him to grab my phone before rising to my feet, taking my wireless mouse with me. I wheeled the chair away the desk, ignoring Optimus when he called my name, and I plopped onto my bed. I grabbed a nearby spiral and a red pencil and made myself comfortable as Optimus watched, trapped on my desk with nothing to do.
"It's called 'time-out,' Prime," I informed the Autobot commander primly. "It's what happens when you edit my stories without permission."
"Elizabeth, you will escort me to the floor this instant," Optimus ordered in his no-nonsense voice. Ah, wasn't fun once the tables turned, was it?
"Geez, Optimus, I would, but," I gave a mocking sigh, "I can't. It might make my knee hurt."
"Your knee has been healing perfectly. I know because I have been the one to change the bandages and treat it every night."
"And I thank you from the bottom of my heart," I told him sincerely. "But what goes around comes around. Maybe this can be a new hobby for you: figure out how to get around Lizabeth's room without assistance. Good luck."
And with that said, I turned my attention fully on my old story. Optimus remained silent after that, either because he knew it was pointless or because he took my words to spark and actually started devising ways to get off the desk without my assistance. I glanced over every now and again to silently laugh at him as he maneuvered himself around the desk, trying to reach the legs without falling and attempting to use the drawer handles to climb down without said drawers opening. I knew the mech wouldn't hurt himself – Optimus had gotten himself out of worse scraps, to be sure – and it was immensely entertaining to watch him battle the desk like it was some sort of tall plateau that he had been dropped on.
Well, as Mr. Bennett said, "For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?"
Optimus did get down eventually, but by the time he did, I was too wrapped up in my editing to watch him. The only way I knew was by the sudden weight on my bed. I was lying on my stomach, reading through one of my Sideswipe/OC fics when Optimus strode over to my upper body and sat down beside me, reading silently instead of getting back at me. It was something I loved about him: he didn't really do revenge. I glanced over at him with a smile, and he smiled back at me.
A companion indeed.
Sora Matasuki: Dang! Nine years? Big difference! I got three years between me and the older brother, and five between me and Sarah (I can't believe this child is turning 17 this year). I can understand, though. My brother and sister don't really get along at all. And thank you for your prayers. It's going to be an interesting couple of weeks, and not in the good sense, either. :\
I Am The Silver Lining: She'll probably watch something with him. Maybe parts of G1 season 2, so that he knows that Elita doesn't die. She won't let him watch the movies, though, as you saw in this chapter. Poor Optimus is the victim a lot, though, isn't he?
Deception is Decepticon: I'm glad all y'all liked it. I was worried it was too soon for them to care about each other so much, but then I'd think, 'well, he's kinda bonded to her, so of course, he'd love her.' I love the fluff, though. I couldn't do without it.
Bliss123: Very glad you like it! I'm trying to get myself back up to my old writing standard. It's strange how six months kills your writing capabilities. D:
Nikikt: I love writing Optimus' mind in this one. It's just hard coming up with new stuff every chapter for him to think about. That's why I don't put a lot into his point of view.
I hear you there. Ever since I came back, I've had so many ideas, and I want so much to add more stuff, but I know that I have to go grow up. I can't be a writer if all I write is fanfiction, you know? I use too many of my good ideas on this website. One day, though, I hope to publish. It just depends on how the tides take me.
Esperanza Hyde the Vamp Queen: Yeah, sitting out sucks. She'll be at Homecoming, though. That's the important cheer event. :)
JustaSchmuck: Well, thank you. I quite like it myself. "Lunar Mist" has that mysterious thing going on. ;) That's definitely one of the primary points I want to make here. She's a cheerleader who's relatively popular and gets good grades, but she's not perfect. She's still lonely, she gets angry, and she still has a lot to learn about life. And I agree. I'd love to have an Optimus. That desire actually spawned this story. It had been a bad day, and I really needed a hug, but no one was around. I wished that Optimus was real at that point. But he wasn't. So I used those emotions to write the first few chapters.
The Cybertonium Warrior: Oooh. I feel for you. Once a month, right? Mine's the first Monday of every month. Gonna suck once school starts. PS, does it ever get to the point where it doesn't hurt to eat semi-hard stuff like crackers? This only eating soft stuff and soup is seriously killing me.
ImpossibleImpact: Well, hello! I'm glad to meet you, and I'm pleased that you are able to relate to my OC. It's hard to write a person that relatable nowadays. Too many Mary-sues floating around. I'm very glad to keep you entertained, and I hope you keep up with what I send out. :)
JackFroyo: Better than Textron or Privatron. Then again… Lizzimus Prime… has a nice ring to it… Congrats on getting the metal permanently from your mouth! I know I look forward to that day, and it's only been a week! And thanks for the prayers. Definitely not an easy time, but it'll get better, right?
And darling. Seriously. I never stop being awesome.
SunnySides: I have to agree with you there. Movieverse Optimus is hot. Kinda sad that I have it for a robot. Hmm… I think I'd get a Ratchet or a Jazz. Maybe a Sunstreaker. It's a toss-up. Lots of pros and cons. And I'm not certain. Bumblebee won't be coming out until quite late in this story. It is unlikely that he'll use his radio, though, because he had a voice in G1. Once again, though, we'll have to see later in the story.
Bluefeather4299: The only other bot that will make an appearance in this will be Bumblebee. As much as I'd love to put other bots in, it wouldn't make sense because Persobots Inc. is a single-base, relatively small business working for multiple different brandnames. DC, Marvel, Mattel, Hasbro. They're all wanting Personals in the image of their characters, and Persobots can only do so many designs at a time. :)
Liz: Oh, honey! Well, I hope you get to feeling better. I've only been in the hospital once in the last few years, and I know that it's not fun at all. Your name is ironic, too, considering the main character of this story. ;) I hope you like what I put out today. :)
How many of you have had someone go through your work and edit without your permission? I think the only time I ever got in a screaming fight with my brother was when he went in a deleted some of my work and edited in his own joking crap. Before I could fix it, he rolled his eyes and exited the document, not hitting save. I lost everything that I had written over the course of three hours. I could've killed him. DX