Before time began, there was the Cube.
We know not where it comes from, only that it holds the power to create worlds and fill them with life. That is how our race was born.
For a time, we lived in harmony, but like all great power, some wanted it for good, others for evil.
And so began the war, a war that ravaged our planet until it was consumed by death, and the Cube was lost to the far reaches of space. We scattered across the galaxy, hoping to find it and rebuild our home, searching every star, every world.
And just when all hope seemed lost, message of a new discovery drew us to an unknown planet called Earth.
...But we were already too late.
"Mr. Martin, you're up."
It was just another typical day of highschool for Braedey Martin. Currently, he was in class addressing his fellow classmates as he got ready to present.
Braedey is an average-everyday 17-year-old boy. He is a young male with pale white skin, short jawline-length brown hair, and cobalt blue colour eyes. He stands 5ft tall, whilst his body is skinny, has broad shoulders, lean legs and arms. He is wearing a white shirt with a blue denim jacket overtop, as well as jeans and black boots.
"Sorry, I've got a lot of things here." Braedey apologised as he dumped his satchel full of various things. Books, papers, and other things. "Okay, for my family-" Braedey then got hit in the neck by a pebble or a piece of paper. The students snickered as the teacher Mr. Hosney stood up to see who's responsible.
"Who did that?" Mr. Hosney demanded. "People! Responsibility." He sat back down as Braedey continued his story.
"Right, for my family genealogy report, I decided to do it on my grandfather, Captain Jackson Archibald Witwicky Martin." Braedey now pulls out some papers. "He had a plan to travel forth into the depths of the land of Antarctica, the most inhospitable land in the world. His intention of this expedition is to find something he had found on a scanner. He theorised it could possibly be something that can change our world forever." He then shows a map of Antarctica. "In 1977, he took 50 brave men on this expedition straight to the Antarctic, going forth into the frozen wasteland.
"Here, we have some of the basic instruments and tools used by those who travelled into the Antarctic." Braedey held up an ice axe. "This ice axe, useful for the South Pole. There's also some heavy gloves, all of which you can get for 80 bucks. All for sale, by the way." Braedey now holds up a gold pendant necklace, one with a blue gem in the middle, and unfamiliar markings. "This is pretty cool. My grandfather's necklace, haven't appraised them yet, but it must've gone across the world before ending up in my grandfather's hands."
"Are you going to sell us his liver?" Braedey rolled his eyes as he looked back at Mr. Hosney. "This is the 11th grade, Mr. Martin, not show and sell. I don't think your grandfather would be proud of what you're doing."
"Right, sorry. It's just this all going towards my car fund." Braedey apologised, now getting some old newspaper clippings. "Anyway, moving on. Unfortunately, my grandfather, the genius he was, he wound up going blind and crazy in a ward, drawing these strange symbols and babbling on about a giant ice man he thought he'd discovered."
The school bell rings and everyone began to leave. "Might be a pop quiz tomorrow!" Hosney yells to the class. "Might not. Sleep in fear tonight. Saved by the bell, Braedey." Hosney sighed to himself.
"Right. So...what is my grade?" Braedey grinned in anticipation.
Hosney wiped some sweat of his head. "I'd say a solid... B-."
Braedey felt his jaw drop. "A B-? Are you joking?!" He demanded, threatening to raise his voice.
"You were hawking your grandfather's crap in front of my classroom." Hosney complained at the brunette.
"You can't just- look, can you do me a favour? Look out the window there." Braedey pointed to outside. Hosney followed his gaze to see a man in his mid-40's in a green Austin-Healey sportscar. "That's my uncle. Let me tell you about a dream? After my cousin Sam left, I didn't have anything to motivate me. Then my uncle told me... if I bring him 2,000 and three A's, he'll help me buy my first car. I need it. Your B-, however, it kills the dream." Braedey stood back. "Please, Mr. Hosney. Let me ask you: what would the great lord Jesus from above do?"
Outside, Ron Witwicky sat in the car as he waits for his nephew to come out of the school. He was wondering if Braedey did get that A he had asked to.
"YES!" Braedey's voice yelled out as he ran over to his uncle, jumping into the car.
"What is it, Braedey?" Ron asked as his nephew got in the car with him.
"Check it! Three A's!" Braedey answered and held up his grade paper. "A full house. Royal flush. I feel good, Uncle Ron!"
After checking the papers to confirm this, Ron soon drove away from the school with Braedey alongside, the former then drove on downtown to a dealership. "Okay, Braedey, got a little surprise for ya. A little surprise."
It was at that moment that Braedey now saw all the new and flashy cars at some of the dealerships, and he was now ecstatic. "No no NO! Uncle Ron, are you serious here?! You've got to be kidding me!"
"I am. You're not getting a Porsche." Ron now laughed, driving away from the flashy dealerships towards one of the older and crappier car lots.
Braedey turned and have a hard glare at him. "That's not funny, Uncle Ron. You think that's hysterical?"
"Don't tell me you seriously thought it? You thought I'd get you a Porsche for your first car?" Ron argued.
"I am NOT talking to you for the rest of this thing, even after we get home." Braedey snapped. As they pull up into the dealership, a old yellow 1970's Camaro drove up behind them, passing by without them seeing.
"Come on, it's just a joke, Braedey!" Ron said, still laughing.
Braedey huffed as they got out of the car and look at the various vehicles. But as they looked around, all the cars were either models of a bygone era, cars nobody would look at, styles that were out of fashion, or just plain-old broken, worn-out, useless, and leaking from every place in the engine bay.
"No, no. Uncle Ron, you said half a car, not half a piece a scrap. I mean, look at this!" Braedey gestured to an old 50's van in front of them with a huge dent in the side of it. "This thing isn't even road legal! How did this pass?!"
"Hey, when I was your age, I'd have been happy with just four wheels and an engine." Ron retorted to Braedey.
"No, no. No. Let me explain something bluntly to you, you ever see the 40 Year Old Virgin?" Braedey questioned.
"Yeah."
Braedey now gestured to the dented van. "That's what this is. Then this one is a 50 year old virgin." He then pointed at a dilapidated Lada. "Also, why would anyone want a crappy Lada? It just says you have nothing left."
"Braedey, remember-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'No Sacrifice, no Victory'." Braedey sighed. "I get it. The old Witwicky/Martin motto."
"Gentlemen." Braedey and Ron both turn to see an African man in his 30's walk up to them. He had a black shirt with gold stripes and a woven fedora hat. He shook both their hands. "Bobby Bolivia, like the country, except without the runs. How can I help you?"
"Well, my nephew here is looking to buy his first car." Ron says patting Braedey's back.
"You come to see me?" Bobby asked in shock.
"Had no choice." Braedey muttered.
"That practically makes us family. Uncle Bobby B, baby." Bobby grinned, wrapping his arm around Braedey's shoulders. "Uncle Bobby B."
"I'm Braedey." Braedey shrugged awkwardly.
"Alright. Braedey, let me talk to you, man-to-man." Bobby then walked him down the dealership. "Your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods." Bobby pointed out to three different cars lined up, just as the yellow Camaro drove between them, coming to a stop. "Let me tell you something, Braedey. The driver don't pick the car. The car picks the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine." Bobby smirked as does Braedey at the words of wisdom.
"Ooh... I got goosebumps from that." Braedey mused.
"Son, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them. Especially not in front of my mammy." Bobby gesture: to two women sitting underneath umbrellas nearby the dealership. "Hey, Mammy!" Bobby waved. The women on the right just flips him off. "Aw, don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head, woman." Braedey raised his eyebrows at this. "Oh, don't worry. She's just deaf." Bobby chuckled forcefully. He then brought Braedey towards the cars. "Over here, every piece of car a man might want or need."
Braedey takes notice of the yellow 1977 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28. It is in yellow with black racing stripes, though the paint is faded, with some areas showing bare metal and rust, though the interior looks better. "This one looks pretty good. It's got racing stripes, maybe some power under the hood." He mused as he looks around, now taking note of the fresh black leather interior of the muscle car. "Clean interior, too..."
"Yep, it's-" Bobby then stopped when he notices the muscle car too. "Stripes? I don't know anything about this car. MANNY!" He yelled.
A man in a mechanics suit jogged out of the garage. "What?!"
"What is this?" Bobby inquired. "This car! Check it out!" He gestured to the Camaro.
"I don't know, boss! I've never seen that one! That's loco!" Manny interjected.
"Don't go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny! Find out!" Bobby ordered, he and Manny yelling at one another incoherently.
Braedey got into the driver seat and he gripped the wheel. "Hey. Not bad, feels pretty good." He noticed some smudge on the horn in the centre of the wheel, so he wiped his thumb across it, now revealing an angular metal insignia on the horn. "Huh? What's this?"
He did not know why, but Braedey felt like some kind of silent yet unique connection as he stares at the insignia, it almost staring back at him...
"How much?" Ron asked to Bobby, Braedey snapping out of his thoughts.
"Well..." Bobby tapped the top of the car as he took a look. "Considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job-"
"I do like the paint, but it's faded." Braedey pointed out.
Bobby leaned down to look to Braedey. "Yeah, but it's custom." He argued.
"I see. Aside from the faded paint, the interior looks to be brand-new." Braedey noted.
"Well, it's your first car. Wouldn't expect you to understand." Bobby looked back at Ron. "Five grand."
Ron shook his head. "No, I'm not paying over four. Sorry."
"Alright. Come on, kid. Out of the car." Bobby said to Braedey.
"What? But you just said cars pick their drivers." Braedey protested.
"Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass uncle. Out of the car." Bobby interjected.
Braedey sighed as he exits the Camaro. He took another look at the insignia on the steering wheel for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he does so, then gets out of the car.
"Here, try this 4G!" Bobby called out, now entering the Beetle next to them.
"There's a Fiesta over there with racing stripes." Ron suggested.
"No, Uncle Ron. I don't want a Fiesta." Braedey grunted in frustration. "God, this has been a bust." He shuts the Camaro door, only for the other door to suddenly swing open, slamming into the side of the Beetle, and knocking it back a bit, shaking Bobby about. "I didn't do it!" Braedey spoke up in defence.
"Whoa! You okay?" Ron asked in surprise to Bobby, looking at the dent in the Volkswagen's door.
"No, it's fine!" Bobby scoffed as he managed to get out of the car. "I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out. Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown suit cousin and come bang this stuff out, baby!" He laughed.
Suddenly, unbeknown to the humans, the Camaro started to function weirdly, the radio dials turning as it began to pick up in volume and decibels.
"That one's my favourite! Came all the way from Alabammy!" Bobby started to show the Witwickys to another car.
Immediately, all the windows from all of the cars on the lot suddenly shattered except for the Camaro's. Ron shields Braedey from the glass, the two of them down on the ground as car alarms ring out. They and Bobby stay hunkered down, just as the alarms go off. The two slowly sit up, shaking the glass off their backs as they look to one another in surprise.
"What... just... happened?" Braedey muttered in shock.
Bobby stood up as pieces of glasses fall off his shoulders. He gasped in shock at what just happened to all the cars in his car lot, then turns to the two men.
"Four thousand dollars... for the stripes."
A/N: it was bound to happen. Here you go. I give you the live-action Transformers saga, in my style and thought. Throughout this story, there will be changes here and there as to what will happen to those, including some changes to some of the characters and also have some of them surviving.