Sour Grapes

Chapter 3-The Welcome Wagon

"You know what I was thinking about?"

Sam and Mikeala were spread comfortably on the grass overlooking the glossy surface of the lake. They had been enjoying their last few moments of peace before they had to head over to the base and pretend to welcome Simmons.

"What?" Mikeala asked, the sun glinting off her chocolate curls as she turned her head to look at him.

"If God made the world in seven days and he rested on the last day…which was Sunday…then that means the earth first started to be created on Monday. So shouldn't Monday be the start of the week and Sunday the end?"

Mikeala propped her head up on her elbow and stared at Sam with a look of incredulity. "Wow Sam. Just when I think I've heard the most random thought that will ever pass through your lips you outdo yourself."

Sam smiled. "Is random good?"

"On you, it's endearing," Mikeala said returning the smile and leaning in to give him a gentle kiss.

"All right you two, time is up," Bumblebee called from further up the hill where he was kindly giving the two teenagers some space.

"I don't want to be diplomatic," Sam whined as he and Mikeala helped each other to their feet.

"Man up Sam. There are worse things in the world than Simmons."

Sam grumbled under his breath as he and Mikeala climbed into Bumblebee's waiting seats.

"Hey Bee," he said, eyes brightening with sudden inspiration as the car took off down the dirt road, "think maybe we could just sneak in and hide out in the rec-room?" Sam had been educating Bee on the fine art of video games, having convinced Optimus to let him hook up a television and game system under the guise that it would help the autobots better understand human culture to experience human forms of recreation.

Mikeala knew where his thoughts were immediately. "And leave the rest of us to deal with this mess…I don't think so! Besides, you know Bee will just kick your ass anyway."

"We haven't tried first person shooters yet," Sam argued, "that's my forte. But a word of advice, never play a driving game with a guy who can actually turn into a car. You will lose…pitifully."

Mikeala's response to this advice was to issue upon Sam a death glare worthy of the record books. Gulping and quickly looking down to avoid the feminine eyes of wrath Sam quickly recanted his previous statement. "Of course I was just kidding."

With a sigh Mikeala turned her face and stared out the window.

"With any luck Simmons will not linger for a long period of time," Bumblebee said hopefully. "He does after all have family obligations and a new residence to get in order."

That comment raised the trio's spirits only the tiniest amount as they drew closer and closer to the Autobot base.

The atmosphere within the walls of the Autobots' new home was not much lighter. Only Optimus even attempted to persevere and take things seriously. Simmons did have some power, and he could make things very difficult for them if he so desired. However unappealing the idea was, they were going to have to keep him happy and comfortable. All he could do was hope that Simmons was tired from his journey and would not linger for an extended period of time. He was most worried about Ironhide, who was the trigger-happy bot that had a tendency to lose his temper.

The aforementioned mech, was stomping rhythmically back and forth from wall to wall of the foyer area where he and the others were awaiting Agent Simmons' arrival. Simmons' offensive remarks and overall ignorance twisted Ironhide's circuitry into a knot. He was already peeved so it would probably only take one wayward comment to send him over the edge.

As he watched his weapons specialist with wary eyes he was aware of Ratchet coming to stand by his side. "I had an idea Prime, which I thought I might share with you."

"Proceed Ratchet."

The medic paused for a brief second then explained his thoughts. "Well I was thinking that perhaps I might just remove Agent Simmons vocal cords. I'd be more than capable of performing the operation and in the end it would make all of our days that much more pleasant. We don't have to listen to his incessant whining; you don't have to try and cover up the fact that Ironhide lost his patience and blew him to smithereens. It's a win-win scenario."

Optimus blinked…trying to gage whether or not the medic was earnest or if his words had been in jest.

"Yes Ratchet, because Simmons' sudden inability to speak would not cause suspicion at all."

Ratchet contemplated that newly presented dilemma. "We could stage an accident in which he sustained some sort of damage to the…"

"ENOUGH Ratchet," Prime said softly but with authority ringing through his words. The medic wisely decided to give his own vocal processors a rest.

The sound of an engine in the distance made the three mech tense. A wave of relief passed when they all spotted a familiar yellow Camaro pass through the gates on the many security cameras that graced the walls. Above them there was a click, and a piece of the ceiling descended carrying Bumblebee with it.

Sam and Mikeala exited the vehicle looking as excited to be there as the rest of them were. Bumblebee hastily shifted to his bipedal form and looked around. "He has not yet arrived?"

"Course not," Ironhide spat angrily, "creatures like that don't have the decency to be on time."

"Peace Ironhide," Optimus said in a warning tone.

With a seething mixture between a scream and a groan issuing forth from his person Ironhide took up his angry pacing once more.

For a half an hour there were little sounds but the shuffling of feet, the occasional sigh, and the steady stomping of Ironhide's metallic steps. Then there came the far off, yet unmistakable sound of a car. On the moniters a black car with Simmons undeniable profile within approached the gates. He had not yet been given the clearance code that would open the metal fencing and so there was a beep and his voice (as obnoxious and hectic as ever) blared over a speaker that was present in the corner.

"Are you people, and I use that word tentatively, letting me in or not? I mean really, what's with all the red tape? You big giant lug heads frightened of us little organics?"

There was a palpable mental shudder from all of the current occupents at the sound of his not so dulcet tones. "Can't we just pretend we aren't here?" Sam whispered.

Optimus ignored him, heading for the wall and entering a code into a pinpad. On the camera, the gate swung open and Simmons' car lurched forward. It was too late to turn back now.

Turning to face the two humans and three Autobots behind him Optimus took a moment to gather his thoughts and then spoke carefully. "I am warning you all right now, that I am expecting nothing but the most hospitable and kind natured responses from all of you. DO NOT let him goad you into actions that we will all come to regret. Keep your wits about you. This is your one and only warning. Am I understood?"

He was answered with a chorus of 'Yes sirs', but did not feel much relieved by it.

Simmons did not like humid climates. Any other sort of weather he could ignore, but humidity just annoyed the crap out of him. So why the hell had he let himself get talked into moving to Nevada? Because he was doomed to a life of misery, that's why.

Helen had a fear of flying, but it was the quickest way to reach their destination. Sitting with an anxiety ridden wife hyperventilating into a brown paper bag on one side, and a hormonal teenager blasting metal music so loud that it had damaged HIS ears had not been a pleasant experience. And what was it all for; what reason was there to lean on to make all his suffering worthwhile? Absolutely fucking nothing, that's what.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove through the large metal gates and towards what appeared to be a dilapidated old barn. Well that was just dandy. Where was he supposed to go now? Ahead of him, he saw a large yellow box painted onto the grass. Well, that wasn't natural, so it was obviously the place for him to be. He pulled the car into the space and then waited his patience already next to nil.

"Fucking robots are supposed to be geniuses and they couldn't even put in a proper entrance," he mumbled to himself, "just goes to show that….HEY!"

His thoughts were interrupted as the car was jarred and a strange mechanic creaking and groaning sounded from all around him. There was a strange sensation of vertigo that hit him and he realized he was moving. The piece of earth he'd parked in was lowering itself deeper in the earth.

"Of course they're underground. Hiding out beneath the earth like…like criminals!" he muttered trying to get rid of the dizzy sensation that now plagued him.

When the ground beneath him stopped moving, and he was sure he wasn't going to lose his breakfast, he ventured to turn his head. There he spotted three of the metal fiends, and those two irksome and delinquent children.

He grimaced and forced himself to get out of the car. "You know, a little warning about the moving floor would have been nice," he spat crankily.

"Our apologies Agent Simmons, we did not intend to alarm you," the biggest metal dude whose name Simmons really couldn't bother to remember said in a friendly manner that he didn't buy for a second.

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't," he scoffed.

"I hope your flight was pleasant," the robot said, another attempt to a friendly start. Simmons wasn't playing. He merely snorted in response.

"How bout you just give me a tour of this lair of yours so I can go home and try and get some rest?"

He heard something muttered and saw the Witwicky boy leaning in towards his criminal partner. "Hey ladiesman, right? Shouldn't you be in school or at home listening to angst-filled music?" He was satisfied to see the boy's face flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He turned his attention the girl. "And you, little criminal girl, shouldn't you be out working on getting more crap added to your record? Aren't the cars here good enough for stealing anymore?"

"Agent Simmons, Sam and Mikeala are a part of this secret, so I thought it best that they be here as well."

Simmons glowered back at the bot who in his opinion looked ridiculous with painted flames all over his person. "In case you hadn't noticed buddy they're minors. They already know too much and they should be at home keeping their noses out of business that is meant for adults."

"This is a matter I'm sure we can discuss further Agent Simmons. For now, shall I give you a tour of our quarters?"

"Yeah, yeah, let's get this over with."

Simmons had the same overall opinion of every room he was shown. It was way too fucking huge. It boiled his blood to contemplate how much money had been wasted to harbor these…aliens. He vaguely listened as the leader guy attempted to re-introduce himself and his men. Ha, as if he really cared that much. He noticed that as the tour went on, everyone found an excuse to leave. The two humans claimed to have studies to attend too, as if they were the kind of kids who did respectable things like homework. The one that had leaked all over him during their previous encounter left to accompany them. The angry one with the gun far too big for his liking claimed there was something wrong with his giant gun, and the neon-yellow guy who had some sort of name from a toolbox offered to go look it over. Now it was just him and the Optimal or whatever his name was… big, tall, alien dude.

He somehow managed to make it though all of the big guy's never-ending prattle, and then they headed back towards the front room. The other two aliens had relocated there.

"Is there anything else you wanted to address today Agent Simmons?"

He looked up. Man he was going to need a ladder or something so he didn't get a crick in his neck trying to talk to these tall metal freaks. He began to say no, but then a thought struck him. "I have a query for you big guy."

"Ask away."

"What did you do with that metal friend of yours; the one that got decimated at Mission City? I was thinking, you know...a bunch of scrap metal won't do you much good...you should really hand it over to the government. We could make good use of it."

If Simmons had been a socially observant man, he would have noticed the tension that sliced through the air at his words and would have realized he had stepped into dangerous territory. He wasn't however, so he just stared up expectantly, waiting for an answer. Then he heard a loud clicking sound and turned to see that the angry robot was now pointing his gigantic gun in his direction.

"Whatcha…whatcha doing there big guy?"

Blue eyes narrowed, glowing ominously at him. "I'm wondering what a gun of this caliber will do to your sorry hide when I fire at you."

Simmons held up his hands… "Hey now buddy…I just asked a harmless question."

"You are a putrid and disgusting specimen with no thoughts for anyone or anything around you," the bot snarled, jabbing the gun in Simmons' direction and causing him to jump.

He was vaguely aware of the neon robot muttering something that sounded like 'I told you so,' in the direction of the boss-bot who had moved in front of him.

"Gee, he muttered, "for a tough guy you sure are sensitive."

The bot gave a roar and tried to poke the gun around the body of his leader who of course shifted to match his movement. "For a human whose supposed to possess survival instincts you talk far TOO MUCH!!!"

"Ironhide stand down! That's an order!"

The gun wielding robots eyes stayed locked on Simmons. "Come on Prime just an arm or a leg. He'd live…possibly."

Simmons didn't like to be threatened. "Go ahead buddy," he roared back. "Just give me a reason to report your robotic ass!"

The robot gave a dark metallic chuckle. "You won't report anything if you have no mouth to speak with."

Simmons face drained of color, and he stumbled back.

"Ironhide, you will stand down immediately or I will be forced to take action against you!" Finally the gun was lowered, but the blue eyes still gave Simmons the death glare, promising that retribution would come later.

"Agent Simmons, it would be best if you left now," the big guy said, not taking his guess off the other robot. Simmons was only too happy to oblige him. He wordlessly walked to his car as quickly, yet dignified as he could. Internally his mind was frantically ordering him to quit this job immediately. His pride was telling him not to let the giant trashcans win. As he slammed the car door and felt the ground shift under him once more he groaned and once again wondered why he'd done this to himself.

Because he was doomed to a life of misery…that's why.

(AN)—Did everyone see the teaser trailer for Revenge of the Fallen? It was short, but intense. What did you all think of it? Oh, yeah, while you're answering that question, what did you think of the chapter? Chapter 4 will be up in about a week, see you all then!