Sparks of Destiny
Delphine Marcos wasn't the type to make friends.
It wasn't that she was rude or incapable of conversation—she just preferred her own company. After years of bouncing from place to place, she learned that forming attachments only led to disappointment. People always left, one way or another.
So when she moved into the small, run-down house next to the Witwickys, she had one goal: stay under the radar.
That plan lasted exactly three days before Sam Witwicky started showing up uninvited.
Right now, she was lying underneath her '67 Camaro, tightening a loose bolt on the undercarriage when she heard someone clear their throat.
"Uh, hey, neighbor!"
Delphine sighed. She debated ignoring him, but experience told her Sam wouldn't take the hint. He'd just keep standing there, awkward and fidgety, waiting for a response.
Sliding out from beneath the car, she squinted up at him, wiping the grease from her hands onto an old rag.
"What do you want, Sam?"
He grinned, shifting from foot to foot. "Wow. Straight to the point. No 'Hey Sam, how's your day?' or 'Nice weather we're having?'"
Delphine raised a brow.
He coughed. "Right. So, uh, I just wanted to check in. You know, welcome you to the neighborhood and all that."
She eyed him suspiciously. "You've already done that. Twice."
"Yeah, well, third time's the charm, right?"
Before she could respond, a deep rumble cut through the quiet suburban street. A bright yellow Camaro pulled up behind Sam, its sleek body gleaming under the late afternoon sun.
Delphine's attention flicked to the car, brows knitting together. Something about it felt… off. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made her stomach twist with unease.
Sam turned, grinning like an idiot. "Oh! Right, uh, Delphine, this is my car. Bumblebee."
Delphine snorted. "You named your car?"
Sam huffed. "I didn't name him! He—uh—look, it's complicated."
Before she could press further, the Camaro's engine purred, as if in response. Delphine's spine stiffened.
She'd been around cars her whole life. She could tell the difference between a tuned-up engine and… whatever the hell that was.
"Is your car… modified?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Sam laughed nervously. "Yeah! You could say that. He's, uh, one of a kind."
Delphine stepped forward, running her fingers lightly over the hood. The metal beneath her touch was warm—warmer than it should be. The car gave another low, rumbling purr.
She jerked her hand back.
Sam paled. "Okay! That's enough car appreciation for one day." He stepped between her and Bumblebee, shooting the Camaro a look. "Bee, buddy, chill."
Delphine narrowed her eyes. "Did you just talk to your car?"
Sam laughed way too loudly. "Nope! Definitely not! Haha—anyway, I gotta go. See you later, Delphine!"
Before she could argue, Sam jumped into the driver's seat, the Camaro revved its engine, and they took off down the street.
Delphine stood there, watching the car disappear around the corner.
Weird.
Really, really weird.
Later that night, Delphine sat on her porch, staring at the sky. The air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves.
Her mind kept circling back to Sam's car.
It wasn't normal.
The way it reacted to her touch. The way its engine sounded almost alive. She'd been working on cars since she was a kid, and nothing about that Camaro made sense.
A deep rumble broke the silence.
Delphine's muscles tensed as headlights flashed from the end of her driveway.
Slowly, deliberately, the yellow Camaro pulled up, its engine a low, familiar purr.
Her pulse skipped.
Sam wasn't inside.
She knew that before she even stepped forward. The car was alone.
And it was watching her.
Delphine exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. This was insane. Cars didn't just show up on their own. But she wasn't the type to run. She'd faced worse things in her life than a creepy, possibly-sentient Camaro.
Hands in her pockets, she approached. "Alright. You've got my attention."
The Camaro's engine growled, a slow, mechanical sound that sent a shiver down her spine.
She hesitated only a moment before reaching out, resting her palm on the hood.
The warmth was still there. Alive.
And then—
The car moved.
Metal shifted, gears clicked, and the Camaro began to unfold, twisting and transforming before her very eyes.
Delphine staggered back as a massive figure emerged, towering over her. The yellow paint remained, but now it covered armored plating, battle-worn metal, and glowing blue optics.
She barely registered the fact that a freaking giant robot was standing in front of her because all she could focus on was its stance.
It wasn't hostile.
It was protective.
Possessive.
Like it had claimed this space—claimed her—without a single word.
The robot knelt slightly, lowering himself to her level. His optics flickered, scanning her, before his voice—clipped, hesitant, and full of static—broke the silence.
"Delphine."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
He knew her name.
She swallowed hard. "You can talk?"
The robot tilted his head, then his radio crackled to life. A distorted voice echoed through the speakers—"Yes. With you."
A chill ran through her spine.
This wasn't just some random alien machine.
He'd been watching her.
She should've been afraid. Should've run, or screamed, or done literally anything besides stand there, staring at him.
But she didn't.
Because deep down, she already knew.
Knew that whatever this was… whatever connection had been forged between them in the span of a single day…
It wasn't going away.
And she wasn't sure she wanted it to.