Well! Been a while, hasn't it? XD

Sorry for the wait, I got, uh... distracted, lol. Lots of other stories. Hehe.

Well anyway, in this chapter, it's revealed that Vanessa got a, erm, better car than she realized. But then, of course, things get heated. They always have to with KO, eh?

This A/N is short, lol.

Hope y'all enjoy~

Vanessa had just thought maybe the car's transmission was acting up when she heard the sort of whirring, gear-clanking noise. She certainly hadn't expected the thing to just randomly rise up all around her, a mass of shifting panels and turning cogs, and become a 20-some-foot-tall robot. Of course, who would expect something like that? The only person who might expect that would be a total lunatic.

And then it spoke. She could hardly believe what was right in front of her eyes. What had just happened here? The car she was going to tear apart had just, like... transformed into a giant robot or something! The Aston Martin was a giant robot. And she'd been about to dismantle the shit out of it... him... wait, was it even a he? God, she didn't know anything anymore.

She didn't know why, but the first thing she said to it-or-him was, "What the hell did you just call me?"

"Skinjob." Based upon the deep voice, she decided upon the fact that yes, the thing was a he. And he looked kind of pissed. "It's a word to describe you annoying little humans. Since I don't know your name, I can't make an insult out of it, so that's what I have to call you."

She looked up and down, from his feet to his face, and shook her head just to make sure this wasn't some kind of hallucination. Kenny had been known to spike drinks - of course, she hadn't had anything to drink since she got here. "Well..." She slowly got to her feet, dropping the wrench and kicking it off to the side. "My name's Vanessa. Do you..." She didn't dare to get any closer, but she didn't know if she wanted to back up either. "Do you even have a name?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, then smirked down at her. "My designation is Knock Out."

She raised an eyebrow up at him. So... the racer's name was really his? Maybe it was just her, but that didn't seem like the wisest thing to do if you were a giant transforming robot trying to keep a low profile. Hell, street racing in the first place didn't seem very smart if you were trying not to be noticed! "So there..." She crossed her arms over her chest. "There was never anyone driving you back there?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I engage a hologram in the form of a human, though it's... on the fritz at the moment." He flicked his fingers and laid them against his chassis, leaning back a bit. "And even though it is the form of one of you skinjobs, it's just as handsome as yours truly."

Vanessa snorted, tossing her hair. "Well, you sure think a lot of yourself, don't you?"

"I could say the same about you." He took his hand - servo? - off his chassis and gestured around the garage, to the various parts and pans and tools laid out. On the tables and shelves, even on the floor. Following his gestures, she noticed suddenly how messy the place was. For God's sakes, hadn't she told Tony and Kenny to at least clean the stains off the floor a million times? "What... is all this, anyway?"

She took one step back, picking up her wrench and tossing it in her toolbox. "It's called a chop shop, honey." She handed the box to Tony, virtually shoving it into his chest. She was a little afraid to take her eyes off this Knock Out guy, but she wasn't backing down. He was on her turf, after all - in her shop. "You know how people steal cars? Well, this is where they bring 'em. Me and my boys take 'em apart and sell 'em."

"Oh?" He puts his servos on his hips, still looking around. "So you're basically a murderer."

"Oh, yeah. Sure, sweetie." She snapped her fingers at Tony and Kenny to get them out of the room, and she wasn't surprised by how fast they ran. She then decided to hop up onto a table and fiddle with a carburetor that had been there. "Except I've been at this for almost three years, and I haven't yet had one car, you know... talk." She glanced up and cocked her head to the side. "Confession time, sexy little Aston Martin?"

"Oh, come now... Vanessa." He stepped forward, and thanks to the length of his stride, now he was pretty close to her. "You must understand that I'm no ordinary automobile."

She rolled her eyes before turning back to the carburetor and trying to distract herself. If she didn't play with something, she knew she was going to go into shock. "Yeah, I kinda figured that when you turned into a giant robot the second I touched your oil valve cap. That a sensitive spot for you?"

"No, not... particularly." He reached up and rubbed at the side of his head. "I'm just the kind of mech who likes his personal space. And besides..." He pointed a finger at her, and she took notice of how frighteningly sharp the tip of it was. "There was the fact that you were going to rip me apart."

She chuckled mirthlessly and shook her head. "Yeah well, look. Taking you apart, it's nothing personal - just business. Forgive me for thinking you were a sexy car with a powerful engine and a nice body frame and nothing more."

"Ahhh." He didn't touch her, but he did scratch his fingertip down the side of the table that she was sitting on. "So even you, a mere little skinjob, possesses admiration for my beautiful finish."

She glanced up, scoffed, and tried to keep a smile from tugging at her lips. "At the moment? Not so much, my dear. Need I remind you that you just got into a fairly serious wreck? Your paint job is scratched and scuffed in so many places, you look like you've been through a war."

He groaned, and by how vain he seemed, she had to admit that she'd seen that coming. "Don't remind me, please."

Vanessa suddenly thought of something, and even though she couldn't believe how casual they were both being, she looked up in curiosity. "Does it... hurt?"

As he'd been sulking over his finish, he had to blink and look down. "Come again?"

"The scratches on your paint job," she repeated, uncrossing her legs. "Do they hurt?"

He looked down and brushed against a couple of cuts across his shoulder. "... Yes. I believe it's what you humans refer to as 'a burning pain.' I assume it'd be equivalent to the pain you'd feel if these scratches were on you."

"Ouch." She set the carburetor aside, leaning forward a bit. "You fix it, like... the same way you would on any normal car?"

"With oil, a buffer, and ridiculous amounts of pain medication," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chassis. "Although I wouldn't expect you would have the kind of pain medication that I use. It's a... special kind."

"Wouldn't doubt that." She blew out a breath, pushing some bangs back. "Well, either way, you owe me a car, sweet rims."

He looked down at her, and his eyes were somehow deadpan and furious at the same time. "Excuse me, Vanessa?" He didn't sound too angry, though of course that meant nothing.

She shrugged. "I think I was pretty clear, but I guess you need an explanation. I was going to take you apart and sell your parts, but apparently that's not going to work. You know, because... you're a living, thinking... thing... who could probably step on me."

"'Is moving closer to stepping on you with every passing nanoklik' would be the correct phrase," he interrupted, putting a servo on his hip.

She pouted. "Anyway, since I now have no new car to tear up, you have to get one for me. Or help me get one."

He thrust a long, slender metal finger near her face, taking a step closer. "Look, fleshbag, just because you found me injured, that doesn't mean I'm your servant. I thought I'd do you a favor by being grateful to you for repairing me, but it turns out you'd rather rip me apart. I have better things to do than obey some little skinjob who stands there and commands me around like she owns me after she was about to dismantle me."

She raised an eyebrow and reached up to shove his claw out of her face. "I'm sitting, smartass."

After giving her a long, hard glare, he withdrew his servo. "You listen good, skinjob, because I'm only going to say it once more. I'm not doing it, you're pathetic, and you don't own me."

She happily returned the glare. "I never claimed to own you, Knock Out. I just think it's fair that you repay me for losing out on you. Your frame alone would have gotten me $1000! I could have lived on that for two months. Maybe three." She held out her hand in the shape of a gun and pointed her finger at the side of her head. "Congratulations, you just shortened my life, Iron Man."

"I'm not going to do anything you say, Vanessa." He glanced around the shop again, probably attempting to avoid her eyes. "And if you think I am, your little organic processor is damaged. I have more important things to do than help you on your little... errands. I have to fix my finish and... and the others are probably missing me." He offlined and onlined his optics, then offered up a rather unsettling grin. "Yes, that's it! I'm their doctor. They're helpless without my knowledge. Not to mention they're so much of a blatant fashion disaster it should be a crime."

She snorted, then slid off the table and dusted her hands against her jeans. "Oh yeah?" It was her turn to cross her arms over her chest. "If they're so dependent on you, why aren't they looking for you? Seems to me that if they really needed you that much, and if you were really that important to them, they'd do anything to find you. You've probably been gone for a few hours, haven't you? I would think they'd get worried."

He opened his mouth to say something else, then it appeared that something occurred to him and he shut his mouth. Briefly, anyway. "I don't see what your point is. They probably don't even know that I'm gone."

"Exactly." She tossed her hair. "What kind of friends are they if they don't even notice you're not there? If it was me in your position, Tony and Kenny would at least know that I was gone, even if they didn't come looking for me."

"Whatever you say," he sneered, "I'm still not doing what you tell me. I believe the phrase you humans use is something along the lines of... 'You can't make me'?"

"Oh yeah?" She reached down and picked up a soldering iron that had been lying on the floor. "If you don't drag your metallic butt out there and find me a car I can profit from, I will cut you up so bad-!"

"Jefa, jefa!" All of a sudden, Tony ran back into the room and grabbed her wrist. "Don't do anything you're gonna regret later!"

Vanessa jerked her arm away, successfully freeing her hand. "Hey! Didn't I tell you to vamoose your little behind outta here?!"

"I was just hiding over by the doorway," he answered, albeit rather sheepishly. "Look, you guys don't wanna just kill each other, do you?"

She stiffly turned her head away from Knock Out, crossing her arms again. He, on the other hand, sounded like he had to stifle a laughing fit.

Tony groaned. "Seriously? You two are hopeless. But come on, why don't you put all that anger to better use than just beating on each other?"

Vanessa scoffed. "What? You're gonna lead anger management class now? That's a laugh, Tony. Tell me another one."

He grabbed the soldering iron out of her hand and shook his head. "You know that ain't what I meant, jefa. I was thinking of a little contest to settle this. Why don't you guys race?"

Knock Out snickered. "Are you honestly suggesting that I waste my time racing against this little skinjob?" he queried, jabbing a claw toward the shop owner. "Please. I would cross the finish line before she even got her automobile started up."

"Oh yeah?" Tony turned to the robot, putting both fists on his hips. "If you're so sure you'll win, ese, what have you got to lose, huh?"

"You're insane," Knock Out responded, snarling. "I'm already covered in wounds; you want me to go out there, expend energy, and get hurt further?"

"News flash, Knock Out," Tony retorted. "People do it every day. It's called life."

"Tony," Vanessa spoke up in a low, forced voice. "You know I don't race. Not anymore."

"¡Y usted!" He turned to her and put the soldering iron down. "The Vanessa I know wouldn't just back down from a challenge. She'd face her fear, race this guy, and keep her reputation! If people stop thinking of you as tough... ¿qué to queda? People stop coming here."

"You can't make me race, Tony!" She turned around and pressed her hands tightly down on the table. "I told you when I hired you, I'm never racing again..." She reached out and swept everything off the table with just her arm. "So why the hell do you have to keep bringing it up?!"

He put a hand on her shoulder and roughly turned her back around. "Vanessa, we coulda got a lot for the car he was. ¿Sabes que? You know that. So come on, make him get another car."

She looked down at the ground, refusing to even glance up at him or Knock Out. "Tony, I don't even know if I can take him. You - You didn't see this guy race. He's good. Up till the other driver started cheating, he... he would have won."

"Come on, chica." He gave her a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You're good too. You've won almost all of the races you've ever done. That's not a horriblerecord, you know?"

She punched him back, but on the chest. "You know when the last time I raced was? Three years ago, Tony. I'm rusty."

"What would you even have to offer?" Knock Out interjected into the conversation, looking smug as ever. "I can't think of anything you have that I'd want."

Vanessa shoved Tony aside and glared up at the robot. "You know what, huh? You're assuming you'd even win."

He smirked down at her. "Of course I am. Because I would."

She hissed, and she really wished she could get up on his level and... and spit in his faceplates or... or something. "You know what? You're an ass. I deal with people like you every day, but I'm gonna deal with you different. So here's how it's gonna go. If I win, you help me find another car I can take apart. If you win, I'll fix up your paint."

"Ha! And who says I want your fleshy, grabby little hands all over my finish?" He brushed a claw over his chestplate, almost as if he were offended by the very idea. "You would just mark it up."

"Oh please, you self-entitled freak of nature." She was seriously considering up and kicking his leg. He wasn't doing much to convince her he deserved anything but that. "In between jobs, I do a lot of body work. I'll buff out those scratches, paint every inch of you, and shine you up so much people will think you're a freaking mirror."

"Hmmph..." He glanced down, then toward the closed garage door. "Well... hmm. Alright then, I suppose. So if - heh, well, I mean, when I win, we'll be coming straight back here, then?"

She curled her lip and barely restrained herself from just going at him. She turned slightly and elbowed Tony sharply in the shoulder. "You ride with him, out to Rough Ridge. Make sure he doesn't try any funny business. Meanwhile..." She looked back at Knock Out, giving a smirk back in response to the one he'd given her moments before. "I'll dust off White Lightning. See you in fifteen, Knock Out."

OOOOH. I think shit just got real~

Spanish translations!

¡Y usted! = And you!

¿qué to queda? = What's left?/What do you have left?

¿Sabes que? = Do you know that?/You know that?

chica = girl

Anyway! I don't want to make me A/N too long this time, so I'm just gonna 'vamoose my little behind' outta here~

Thanks for reading! ^^