Do you ever have one of those ideas that could be either really good or really bad?

So I was taking a break from playing 2077 one day and saw that Transformers Rise of The Beasts had dropped a dope trailer. I watched the trailer and then some Edgerunner clips and started thinking "wouldn't it be cool if Transformers and Cyberpunk were in the same world?" and "At least the human characters could actually stand a chance in a fight."

This is the result of that binge.

One last thing: David and Lucy are the same age in this fic, I know that's not-canon but I do not care.

Chapter 1: The Wanderer

It was a rare day in Night City when Rebecca Cazares actually had to ask herself the question "how did I get here?" But when one found themself holding a gun to the head of a complete stranger who offered them a ride home, it warranted a thorough examination of one's life choices.

Rebecca's day had started off normally enough: she had woken up before her pervert pain-in-the-ass of an older brother, showered, got dressed in her favorite coat, grabbed her favorite guns and a breakfast burrito and went on with her day. It was a typical day in the short Edgerunner's life, the crew was in between major jobs, which meant that she ran a few courier services for some quick Eddies, get into a fight on the subway with some blue haired corpo-brat and his cronies who thought they could cop a feel, try to schedule a lunch with with the girls of crew (and Gloria, their go-to medic who honestly needed a break) and when that failed settle for a group chat, before retiring to the decaying stone of one of Night City's still standing public libraries to browse the works of the pioneers of Science Fiction.

In short, her day went like clockwork…. So of course it all goes to shit when some Maelstrommers go Cyberpsycho during a fight with the some Tyger Klaws and cause MaxTac and the NCPD to shut down all of Pacifica while they hunt down the over-chromed idiots. So, without a car of her own and public transportation shut down, that left Rebecca with only one option: walking home and praying she could bullshit her way through the cops at the checkpoint. Pilar called her and told her that he would meet her at the Arroyo checkpoint in order to clear things up, but that wasn't much help.

Rebecca was about an hour into what was going to be a rather long, curse filled, walk when a car pulled up next to her. The first thing that stood out to her was the make of the car, a classic Quadra Thunder-X modified for off-roading. Whoever owned the thing went for an interesting color scheme, a near obnoxiously bright yellow with a black racing stripe down the middle. When the driver side window rolled down Rebecca was hit with a blast of old school rock and roll as the driver let a burst of static out of his facemask.

Rebecca had her hands in her jacket pockets, subtly flicking the safeties off of her Omahas, and was glaring at the guy with open suspicion. The driver looked young, around his mid twenties, his eyes were glowing a bright blue that clearly marked them as cybernetic, and he had replaced his mouth with a yellow mask similar to Kiwi's. Deciding to give the guy a chance, "What are you staring at, choom?"

The mystery driver was quiet for several seconds, to the point where Rebecca was going to do a cliche and ask if a Ripper Doc had his tongue when her phone received a call from an unknown number. Rebecca shut it down out of reflex, after all in a city full of Netrunners who knew the damage a spam call could inflict on the moron dumb enough to answer them? When the driver rolled his eyes and she received a call from the same number did she realize that he was calling her. Now her pistols were out and pointed at the guys head.

"All right pal either start talking or get going before I pop your lungs and tires!"

The driver held up his chromed hands in the universal gesture of "don't shoot!" before letting out a burst of feedback, " I don't want any trouble." and then tried to call her one more time.

Against her better judgment, and with her curiosity peaked, Rebecca decided to answer the stranger's call.

Rebecca: Alright Choom, you have five seconds to start making sense or I introduce your guts to a lead-heavy diet-diet.

Unknown: Alright-Alright miss, there's no need to be hostile. I saw that you were walking out here post-cyberpsycho incident and was wondering if everything was alright.

Rebecca: Uh-uh, and suppose if I believe your scop, why didn't you didn't just say so when you rolled down the window?

Unknown: Promise you won't laugh?

Rebecca: No chance. Starting the count again….

Unknown: Neural link between my voice box and mask is slagged to hell. I have to clip audio files from songs, movies, and tv shows if I want to speak outside of phone calls.

Rebecca was quiet for a few seconds, she calmly flicked the safeties back on her pistols and then she started laughing her ass off. Of all the fucked up cyberware stories Rebecca has heard in her nineteen years of life in Night City, this wasn't even in the top twenty…. But the fact that she nearly blew some random gonk's head off because he was embarrassed by his poor choice of chrome… it was just so stupid it warped all the way around to hilarious. And judging by the way the gonk in question's eyes dimmed, he knew exactly how dumb it was.

Unknown: I take it I'm off the hook?

Rebecca: Ye-yeah choom, you're good. Though I gotta ask, you clearly got Eddies to spare since you're driving a Quadra, why not get your chrome replaced?

Unknown: The guy who installed this piece also saved my life when everyone else thought I was only good for spare parts. If he couldn't fix my voice? No-one can.

… Well now Rebecca felt like an asshole, but not enough to let the guy off for baiting her with a cliche sob story. She was a Night City native, Trauma Team didn't care about anyone for free and neither would she.

Rebecca:... Well you sure know how to make a girl feel like shit.

Unknown: Sorry about that, wasn't my intention.

Rebecca: Then what were you trying to do?

Unknown: See if you needed a ride.

Rebecca: Seriously?

Unknown: Yup.

Rebecca: You seriously want me to believe that in 2076 someone would willingly decide to offer a ride to some random girl off the street they don't know? Or better yet vice-versa?

Unknown: :)

Rebecca: Even if I believed you Choom, why should I trust you?

Unknown: I'm willing to let you hold those Omaha's to my head the entire ride.

….. This guy was fucking unbelievable! But on the other hand if he was legitimately trying to be helpful, it would save her a few hours of walking and sore feet the next day….

Rebecca: Alright, I'll take that deal. But first I need something to call you besides "Choom" or "That Gonk."

Unknown: Dylan Watson, but my friends call me Bumblebee.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow as she stowed away the pistol in her right hand as she walked to the passenger side of the car. "Bumblebee?"

"Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee!" The gonk now known as Bumblebee played as he quickly shadow boxed, showing rebecca the built in knuckles of his cyber-hands and the tell-tale lines of some kind of weapon implanted in his arms hidden in the enlarged sleeves of his Letterman jacket (black with a yellow stripe, the exact opposite of his car's scheme she noted later on). Then he sent a quick message to her phone.

Unknown: How about you?

"Rebecca, Rebecca Cazares. Becca to my chooms, "That Gun-Crazy Gremlin!" to guys who piss me off." She said as she simultaneously sent him the location she agreed to meet Pilar and level her pistol at his head. Once he nodded that he got the info, they were off into the night with nothing but music from the radio filling the space between them. Rebecca didn't recognize any of the songs or artists blaring from the speakers, but from what she could make out the songs fell either into the category of Rock, Metal, or Jazz of all things. Eventually she couldn't help herself and decided to fill the void of conversation. "So "Bumblebee"…. where you from? And don't say Night City, you don't have the look or feel of a native." Once again a call from that now-known number rang out, only this time Becca took the time to update his contact information.

Bumblebee: And how does a native of Night City act?

Rebecca: Like their own mothers would sell them to the Scavs if it meant they had enough money to pay off their pimp and score some glitter.

Bumblebee: Well that's bleak.

Rebecca: That's life.

Bumblebee: Fair enough… and you're right, I'm not from around here.

Rebecca: So then where are you from.

"I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around," The lyrics of a song blared out from the driver's mouth as he turned off the radio, "I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town."

"So you're a nomad?" Rebecca didn't buy it, the car was too clean and not nearly armored enough to look like it could survive the badlands.

Bumblebee shook his head

Bumblebee: No, I'm a courier.

Rebecca: Courier? No offense but you don't strike me as a mailman.

Bumblebee: Why's that?

Rebecca: The car you're driving and the seams on your arms suggests that you could've blown my head off if you weren't trying to be nice.

Bumblebee: Don't judge a book by its cover. I've been in my fair share of fights.

Honestly the use of her phone and watching the road for her stop was giving Rebecca a headache, so she switched back to her actual voice "Well then, where were you before you came here?"

Bumblebee took a few moments to respond, and when he did it was in a hodgepodge of soundbites: "Viva! Las Vegas- Detroit, Rock City!/Sweet Home, Chicago~"

Now Rebecca was even more curious, "So what brings you out here?"

Bumblebee: An old friend called, saying he was starting a new project out in Night City and that he needed people he could trust. I was looking for a fresh start, so I got a few of our mutual friends/acquaintances together and agreed to help him out."

Rebecca only knew this guy for exactly half an hour, and even she could tell that this gonk was telling her most of the truth barring a few details. In spite of what Gloria liked to preach, sometimes it helped to have a gun pointed at someone's head. "Well good luck to you and your chooms on whatever you're getting into… here's hoping I don't here about it all going to shit in a couple of weeks."

Bumblebee: Thanks for the well-wishes. I told you what I do for a living, what do you do to get by?"

"I'm an edgerunner." Rebecca let the pride flow into her voice, "My brother and I are part of a decent crew, we're not in the big leagues yet but we're getting there." Rebecca took the wheezing that emanated from her driver/hostage to be a bit of laughter at her expense. "What's so funny?"

Bumblebee: Nothing, just trying to figure what would go into a "Gun-Toting Gremlin" at the Afterlife.

"Cherry Nicola mixed with either Whiskey, Sake, or Tequila, whichever gives the worst hangover." Rebecca responded without hesitation, having come up with the mix after a rather morbid midnight conversation with Pilar about what they would do if they somehow managed to outlive each other, "I'm still trying to figure out whether to include one of those little umbrellas or a silly straw."

Bumblebee: I'll try that later and tell you the results.

Becca nodded her head in appreciation, her mood somewhat dampened by the thought of her own mortality. She didn't have many qualms about the fact that the odds were that she'd die young, but that didn't mean that she liked to think about the nature of her death and what came after. Bumblebee, for all of his relative naivety, seemed to pick up on that fact and mercifully turned up the radio for the rest of the drive. When they were about a block away from the stop she insisted that Bee pull over and that she would walk the rest of the way home. He tried to insist on driving her, but relented when she threatened to blow out his tires in a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. So she walked to the checkpoint where Pilar and Falco were waiting for her, using her smaller nature to trick the cops on parole that she was younger than she appeared, and that Pilar was just a concerned brother who just got off of work and was trying to get his sister home safely. They bickered the entire ride home, but Rebecca could tell that he was somewhat worried for her safety this time and was secretly grateful for it.

Later on when she was comfortably back in the comfort of her bed and it's collection of worn out stuffed animals and blankets, a tablet with one her favorite books in her hand while she tried to block out the music coming from Pilar's side of the apartment, she decided that she needed to talk about the strange night she had and decided to make it the girls problem.

Rebecca: Are you guys down for breakfast tomorrow? My treat.

Kiwi and Lucy were still up, as surprisingly was Gloria, Dorio just sent a thumbs up emoji and went back to bed.

Gloria: Normally I like to spend my off-days in bed or with David., but he has midterms next week and I don't want-want to disturb him. What's the occasion Rebecca? Normally we agree to split the bill.

Kiwi: I agree, something about this stinks, and it's not your brother's hairgel.

Rebecca: It's no big deal, I just found the rarest thing in Night City and want to talk about it with people who won't mock me.

Lucy: What's the rarest thing in Night City.

Rebecca: A guy who offers a ride to a stranger and doesn't expect her to blow him as a reward.

Kiwi: That disgusting image aside…. Talk.

Elsewhere

"Dylan Watson," better known as B-127 or "Bumblebee" depending on which side you were on, watched the crazy woman with turquoise hair he now knew as Rebecca walk the remainder of the block to the man he thought was her brother, and get in their friend's car before heading off back to basecamp. Anyone trying to look through his now heavily tinted windows, they would've seen the "driver" of the car's face disappear in a blur of pixels and false skin to reveal the gunmetal gray of the android he was using as a stand-in for his holomatter avatar.

If the War was still in effect, odds were that Bee would be driving back to a disciplinary hearing from Prowl for "exposing" himself and by extension the rest of the Autobots on Earth to a N.A.I.L. for little to no apparent reason.

But the war was over now, and with it most of the rules that had dominated his life had been swept away.

Still, Bee could acknowledge that he probably should have left when Rebecca pointed a gun at his "head," after all these things were expensive, and Sumdac was letting him and the rest of the Cybertronians Earthside "test" them for free. With that said, he knew in his spark that what he did was the right decision, and he would make that same choice again if given the chance to do so. After all, it's what Prime Would've Done.

With that thought Bumblebee turned back on the song he had been listening to, unaware of how this simple meeting would dramatically alter his life and the lives of others down the road.

Oh yeah I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around

I'm never in one place I roam from town to town.

And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl

I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world

'Cause I'm a wanderer, yeah a wanderer

I roam around around around, around, around

'Cause I'm a wanderer, yeah a wanderer

I roam around around around around, around….

And with that, chapter one is complete. If you guys want more of this story, follow and comment, and if not? Then I'll just keep this to myself, either way enjoy your day everybody.