All New Look
For a second, I didn't want to open my optics. I felt as though doing so would only increase the pain I felt in my head, and somewhere I thought I could hear Ratchet's voice, which made me feel as though, that perhaps, we were fine. But as my mind got more and more into focus, as I gained more and more consciousness, I realized that Ratchet was not there . . . that there was no voice at all. Instead, there was a silence again, and despite my previous desire to keep my optics closed, I felt the rising need to open them, until at last, I did.
Immediately, I knew something was wrong. I was lying down, on something soft, and as I moved my arms, I realized that whatever I was lying on was covering me, also, the lower half of my body covered in the same soft material. Over me, though my sight was blurred by a pounding in the back of my skull, there was a ceiling, and there were red walls surrounding me. Decorations, ornaments covered them, a gold vine-like pattern running up them. There was a stand that held nothing but a lamp by what I was laying on, yet it was far too large, not as small as it should have been. I slowly moved my head, turning it away from where it had been positioned before, to look on the other side.
A noise caught my attention, it sounded like water, and then I felt cold, being pressed against my brow. The unfamiliar sensation made my head turn back to where it had been facing before. My optics focused, and then widened at such a sight, as I looked upon a young human female. Her skin was dark, and like the lamp, she was far too large, not as small as she should have been. She was pressing something against my brow, some sort of cloth that was the source of the cold. When she saw that I was looking at her, her brown eyes became alight with an elation that confused me. "Good, you're awake at last . . ." Was she not caught unawares by my strange appearance? Was she not afraid, or at least surprised? Surely, my appearance was something she wasn't used to. She seemed like she was going to say something else, yet was interrupted.
"Hannah! Get away from that room!" A voice suddenly called, and my optics flickered to an open door from where the voice had first come from, confusion twisting my features even further. The door was one that would be used inside the house of a human home, something that not even one of my hands should have been able to fit through. And yet, it seemed large enough to allow me to walk through. I blinked as the female made a noise I'd learned was caused by annoyance. She put down the cloth, removing it from my forehead, and stood back a few paces. She looked at me once, then turned and disappeared through the door, closing it behind her, and yelling as she went. "Geez, Bill, you treat me like I'm four or something. You jealous, just 'cause he's gorgeous?" Yet, my optics didn't follow her. Instead, they focused on what had been hidden behind her form, something I never would have seen had she never moved.
Glass, a reflective mirror hung on the red and gold wall, yet what looked back at me was not what it should have been.
A human male stared at the glass. He had cream colored skin that was smooth and flawless, yet he was dirty, smudges of dirt and grime covered his body, which happened to be naked. His body was defined by muscle, strong, and as I leaned up to get a better look at him, so did he. His face was long, with a squared chin and defined jaw and a long nose. Bright blue eyes that held their own form of experience and knowledge were set under deep, blue brows. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his handsome features twisted with surprise, confusion, and growing anguish. He had blue hair, which was styled to part at the right side, and it fell over the top of his head. It, too, like his body and face, was dirty. Slowly, as I swept my legs to the side, he did, too, and as we both stood up, realization flooded over my face.
This human was me.
I watched my mouth drop open, and I leaned closer, raising a cream-colored arm . . . my cream-colored arm . . . to touch the cold glass, as if just to be sure that it was a mirror, and I was not being tricked by some form of never beheld mischief. Yet, to my dismay and torment, this was no trick. A pulse, a repeating thudding in my chest where my spark should have been thudded, and I placed a hand to my chest to feel it. Not only did this thud stay there, but it was in my throat, my ears, and suddenly the pain in my head made itself known again, and I faltered. One of my hands shot out to catch myself on another empty stand, and I leaned heavily on it as another hand slowly reached up for the side of my head.
How could this have happened? Was it even possible? Had a nightmare come alive, and I was only enduring it because I could not wake up? And what had become of the other Autobots? If this was real, not a fantasy, as I began to hope that it was, did they, too, suffer the same fate as me? And where were they? Lost, as well? And what were they seeing, looking at themselves?
In all my worry, I didn't hear the door open and close yet again behind me, and the sudden beckoning made me stiffen, and I slowly turned around to look at a dark-skinned human male as he spoke. "Oh. My, erm . . . I see that you're up."
"Yes . . . I suppose I am." I said, relieved to find that my voice had not changed. Yet it didn't improve my worried mood. The man's face confused me; his optics were placed on another part of the room instead of where I was standing. There was a slight discoloring of his cheeks, I could see the dark skin taking on a light pink color the longer he stood by the door, and the longer he stood with that awkward posture. I was too distraught to really question it, and I started to turn back toward the mirror in dismay when he spoke again.
"It can't be comfortable, standing there . . . in that . . . fashion . . . ahem. Please, would you . . . come this way? We have a nice bath prepared for you, with hot water." He gestured, as if he wanted me to move, and I took a step forward, leaning off of the stand, again. I managed to be able to take a few steps on my own, before once again, the pain in my head grew, and I began to fall yet again. Suddenly, the dark-skinned male reached out, grabbing ahold of my arm, and steadying me. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure how you would react to the concussion, it seems you're a lot worse off than I expected."
"Concussion?" I echoed his tones. This word was new to me, and I didn't know what he meant. The man nodded. "Yes. You're suffering from a concussion. Does this mean . . . you don't remember anything?"
"Remember . . . ?"
Yes. I remembered. I remembered the town, and the buildings, the fountains, and being helpless to help my Autobots who had quickly become far out of my reach. They were in danger, and I knew that I, too, was in danger as well. We all were. While I was trapped in this form, while the Autobots were like this, how would we protect the humans from the Decepticons? How were we to fight them, if we all were like this? My worries only grew as the man helped steady me again. "Would you like me to help you?"
"I . . . I believe help would be nice." I said at last, my voice remaining steady despite on how unsteady I felt deep down. He put my arm closest to him over his shoulders, and then grabbed hold of my waist, helping me steady further, and then we moved together.
"I should have taken you to a hospital, yet since I am a doctor myself, I didn't think it would be necessary, yet I'm seeing that . . . perhaps . . ."
"I . . . I am fine, just . . ."
There were many things that I wanted to say, to try to explain, yet I knew how foolish that would be. For a moment, I was silent, trying to find the right words, and he waited patiently, which I appreciated, glad that I was being shown hospitality that I most likely did not deserve. At last, I thought of something to complete my broken thought as it had been before, and I slowly said, "I am just not . . . myself."
"Don't you worry; you'll be yourself again in a little while. It's only a minor concussion, and I think you'll feel a lot better after getting a nice, warm bath. And then we have a nice, large closet open to your disposal. I don't think you'll be presentable for dinner if you're naked, and it's all I can do to thank you for what you've done for this neighborhood."
"For what I have done?" I repeated his words again, and felt the pain grow. Now I winced, unable to hold it back, my features easily exposing the pain that waved through my entire mind, it felt like my circuits were being hit, over and over, and the ache only increased with every second it lasted. My free hand reached up and I placed it on the side of my head where the pain began, and pulled the hand back in surprise, to slowly return my elongated digits, and gingerly fingered the sore bump that was hidden by my hair.
"Ahh, then you don't remember. You saved a little girl's life yesterday. She was playing in our yard, and suddenly their ball rolled out into the street. When she went to retrieve it, a car came around the corner. It would have hit her if not for you. You pushed her out of the way. However . . . you were kinda clipped by their mirror." He paused for a moment to open the door to a second room. This room had a number of utensils and appliances that I'd never seen before were set about it. He pointed them out for me, and said them by name.
"Here's the sink, and the tub's over there. You know, while I'm at it, I think I'll just help you get clean . . . don't want you to lose consciousness and end up drowning . . ."
I felt a new sensation almost immediately. The sides of my face immediately felt warm, and the heat seemed to flow from my cheeks to my ears, and as I looked off to the side, he seemed to notice. "Don't be embarrassed . . . I'm not trying to embarrass you, anyway."
After that, he helped me into the tub, and much to my displeasure, he also helped me get clean. Once all of the grime and dirt was washed away, he helped me out of the hot water, letting it somehow exit the 'tub' as he handed me a cloth that was almost as tall as my human form, and using this, he helped me get dry. My face and audits burned the entire experience, and I saw that his color was there, too, every time he looked at me. When that was finished, I was sure I would be able to stand on my own, and gently pushed him away, taking a moment to try and stand on my own.
When I found that I was stable, I had him lead me to the next thing he was sure he needed me to do. I found that I was now required to wear clothing, and he had me choose whatever I found pleasing, though I wasn't sure what looked best at first. He said I would be most comfortable in "jeans", and handed me a rough material that was obviously meant to cover my lower body. I put them on, and was relieved when I put them on right the first time, and his blush disappeared once I had them on, and he looked at me more often. I assumed that my nakedness was what had caused him to be so distant, yet after it was remedied the moment I put on the jeans. I then picked out a piece of clothing that he referred to as a t-shirt reflexively. When I slipped that on, I found it tight, yet he said that was how it was designed. I nodded once, and chose a jacket that reminded me a lot of how I had looked in my Autobot mode. It had the same red color, and the flame design emblazoned on the sleeves and on the back. The last few things he had me put on was a pair of soft material that went over my feet, that I learned were called socks, and over those went shoes made from a durable leather.
"There, I think that's about right now." The man said, taking a step back as I walked back out into the other room, standing and staring at myself in the reflective glass. There were a lot of things running through my mind, but none of them were happy. I was distraught, and despite wanting to feel like I had something else to look forward to, that there was still hope, I couldn't see anything that would give me a reason to feel sanguine. The man walked up behind me, his paces careful, seeming to pick up on my obvious downcast mood. "We . . . Hannah'll have supper ready by now. Why don't we go downstairs? You've got to be hungry."
I didn't know what hunger felt like. To be famished was something I had never before had to worry about, but I assumed that if I didn't take precautions, and do what this body needed me to, I might not be able to find the rest of the Autobots. And, from what I was quickly learning, this concussion was not one to press. Therefore, as the man began to walk toward the door, I followed, as carefully as I could, watching my step as the pain resided to no more than a dull throb. I knew it would most likely come back at the worst time, yet I pushed that from my thoughts.
Through the door of the room that I had awakened in was a hallway. This room was at the end of it, and it seemed to stretch across the length of the entire building, and there were rooms on either side, each leading to their own chamber. In the middle of the hallway, there was a staircase that the man beckoned for me to follow him down. I placed a cream-colored hand on the banister, stopping for a second to look at it in dismay yet again. And then I continued, watching how I stepped down the stairs, the disorientation I felt as I moved making it more difficult than it should have been. The man looked behind his shoulder every once and a while, his brow furrowed with concern. I would give him a look that implied that I was fine, though it was nowhere near a smile. I was not happy. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, the female that had pressed the cold cloth to my forehead walked by, balancing a dish that looked full of some form of food on her hip.
"Hey! Don't you clean up nice! Come on, I've almost got the table set."
"Hannah. Leave him alone." The man said, his tones low, full of warning.
"What?" the woman rolled her optics before continuing on through an arch-like passage to another room. There was a small table, seated for three, with a variety of food set out. The dish that the female had been carrying was placed in the middle, it must have been the main course, and there were smaller dishes that held different forms of food. The man pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit, as the woman sat in the one directly across from it while he took the other seat. I slowly and carefully sat down, clenching my jaw as the pain spiked for a moment, only to subside when I stopped moving.
"You'll have to excuse my sister. She's D – E – S – P – E – R – A – T -"
"Shawn!" the woman interjected.
"Just serve the food, okay?"
"Whatever."
As the woman moved, the man turned to me. "Are you feeling alright? I have some pain killers, maybe that'll help?"
"No, I . . . do not know if that would be necessary."
"You don't have to be tough like that. That's what I'm here for, after all . . ."
The woman set a plate of food in front of me, with a square of the larger orange and red dish on one side. A glob of white substance sat off to the right of that, a wet, yellow liquid running down its sides, and there were green cylinders on another side of that, and then a funny-shaped, almost mushroom-like yellow beyond that. I wasn't sure how they found that at all appetizing. Yet, the man smiled widely, and rubbed his hands together with an almost nervous laugh directed at me. "Lasagna. Yum."
" . . . Yum." I mimicked, though I didn't at all sound convincing.
"Are . . . you going to introduce us, or are we just going to be weird for however long he's here?" the woman asked, elbowing the man in the side.
"Oh. Right. Sorry. I'm Dr. Shawn Callaway, and this is my sister, Hannah. And you are . . . ?"
"My name is Optimus Prime." I said, slowly picking up a pronged utensil at the same time that Shawn did, following his movements to the best of my ability. No matter how strange all of the things on the plate looked, I knew that I needed to consume it.
"Optimus? Huh. Haven't heard that name before. Pretty cool." Dr. Shawn Callaway remarked.
I brought up the pronged utensil to my mouth, pausing for a moment and pursing my lips as I looked at it, studying the bit of the white glob that I had scooped up. I didn't know if my face was giving it away, but Dr. Shawn Callaway and his sister Hannah watched me for a moment, as if my hesitation was giving away my distaste. I put the glob in my mouth and chewed, imitating similar movements made by the both of them. Thankfully, whatever the food was, it didn't taste as terrible as it looked.
We just sat and ate for a while, there wasn't much conversation to be said, it seemed. I carefully cleared the plate, finding despite their strange appearances, they weren't all that terrible. It reminded me that appearances weren't what I should judge. As Hannah cleared the plates, Dr. Shawn Callaway looked at me for a moment, and then said, "I have something in the garage. A truck, that the police think is yours. It was in the direction you came from, and nobody else has claimed it. Would . . . you want to look at it? If it's not yours, then I can turn it in and get it to who it really belongs to."
"I suppose that's logical." I answered, and Hannah and Dr. Shawn Callaway paused, looking at me curiously for a moment, before the man stood up and brushed himself off. "Okay. Follow me."
I followed him through the house, taking note of where certain things were, and following him through to a larger room. It had a large door that opened upward, like a bunker, and it led straight to outside. I took it as that was the garage. Inside, there was a truck, and when I saw it, I stopped short, and stared.
"I mean, it's a pretty rad ride. I'd hate it if I owned it and lost it." Dr. Shawn Callaway remarked.
It was indeed my truck. It was the same model, and had the same design. I recognized a few "scars" it had gotten from scuffles over the years of it being my alt mode, and for a long while I stood there, before slowly walking forward. Slowly, a shaky hand stretched out, before the elongated fingers came to rest on the side of the door, and I looked down, my face becoming dark. While I was glad that I had not lost my alt mode, I was not glad to see it at the same time. Because, its existence somehow proved to me, that this was real. "Yes." I said at last. "This is mine."
` "Awesome. I'll uh . . . let you two get reacquainted then." With that, Dr. Shawn Callaway left the garage, and I was alone. For a moment, I stared at nothing, standing still, my mind filled with dark, sad thoughts. And then I was reminded of something truly important that resided inside my truck. I reached up and as quickly as my body and my injured mind would allow, I climbed up, searching furiously with my optics.
` And sighed, with extreme relief, as they at last rested on the radio.
