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am-i-soup · 9 months ago

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Hot Wheels (a tfp fanfic)

Chapter 1: Uncanny Valley, Nevada

AO3 || Chapter 2

Summary: So, Lena was abducted by aliens. Robot aliens. That's- no, it's not cool! She could die at any moment! So what if the red guy was hilarious to rile up and watched horror movies with her? And his husband was like the fun uncle she never had? Their boss wouldn't hesitate to step on her, and the screechy beanpole had already threatened to stab her, like, five times. She can only bullshit her way into being useful for so long. If she could just find a way to contact Miko... oh, and get help. That, too.

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When Lena thought of aliens, she pictured xenomorphs and flesh abominations like that thing from The Thing: vaguely man-ish shapes that make your brain go "Hey, I don't like that" because why does it share the same body plan as a human? Why is it trying to look like us? She was all over that uncanny valley-type shit. Invasion? Get that girl a baseball bat and some vaguely spherical objects and set her loose. Unleeess the aliens had plans to abolish capitalism - because then she'd switch up lickety-split. She was ready to bash in some billionaire brains (what little they had, heheh).

Lena never would've guessed alien cars. She didn't even think 'alien' when the door of the speed demon she giddily tried to get an autograph from opened to reveal no driver at all. The only thought running through her mind when a taser popped out of the dash was, Even the cars are opps, followed by, Jean's gonna be so pissed. Her skateboard clattered to the pavement as her body fell limp into the idling sports car. A melodious beep-beep, beep, beep-beep twittered from the watch around her limp wrist, falling silent after another light zap.

"Ohh, I'm so fragged," said the sports car. "Breakdown, how mad do you think Lord Crazy-eyes will be if I show up with a fleshie?"

Had Lena known she'd get abducted that night, she would've at least packed a sweater. Or, y'know, avoided it altogether. Catching up to the shmancy red racer with those hard-as-hell yellow rims after he dusted everyone else probably wasn't the smartest move, but excitement had won over caution. Her foster parents would be giving her the most baffled reactions if they knew, and then another conversation about impulsive thoughts that should stay thoughts and, "Where is your survival instinct, pastelita? Look: you're already giving me greys."

The day had started good. Correction: decent, considering it was hot as balls and she had a math test. On a Friday. Lena shambled through her morning routine and tied back her side-swept hair to avoid brushing it. Her baseball cap covered the shaved side, proudly displaying the number 04 stitched above the red brim. Wyatt emerged from his bedroom, a similar case of bedhead making his brown curls wilder than usual. His casual formalwear was more put-together than he, and would remain so because brushing was for dumb losers, probably.

Jean, notably not dumb or a loser, had pulled her hair up into a thick bun of dark waves; a colourful bandana laid overtop. Remarkedly more effort, made obvious by the minimal effort of matching with work overalls.

Jean squinted and gestured to Lena's hair. "You're leaving so much out. What's even the point of putting it up?"

"I like it," Lena drowsily defended, flicking her head aside to adjust the free chunk of blonde hair framing one side of her face. "It's cool."

"'Cool' when we were your age meant being able to see your whole field of vision. Eesh, at least clip it back - how do you expect to see the ball like that?" Lena responded with a shrug and Jean exhaled in a huff. "Alright, pastelita, get your 'cool'-lata in the car." Jean carried out her husband's mobility aid and said, "You want your cane, hon?"

"Eh, might as well," Wyatt said whilst fighting a yawn. "My knee doesn't want me dead today."

The three of them piled into the car and Jean pulled onto the road. Lena decided now was a good time.

"I was gonna go to the skate park after practice," she announced.

Jean glanced at her in the mirror. There went the eyebrows. "For how long?"

"Couple'a hours."

"Uh-huh." And the dubious tone...

"Promise I'll be back before dark! And Jaiden and the other skaters are gonna be there. I won't forget again."

Wyatt twisted around to see Lena better. "That's fine. Just set your watch, 'kay? Seven o'clock. I better hear that front door open before seven thirty or I'll sic Jean on you."

"Like a sack of potatoes," Jean said. The car's engine rumbled fiercely as they paused at the stop light, amplifying her threat.

Remembering last time - and the times before that - Lena's face contorted. A set of rapid nods turned her into a great impersonation of a bobblehead. "Yep. Yep. Seven. Understood." She set the alarm on her vibrantly pink watch under Wyatt's scrutiny. It beeped. He smiled, satisfied, and settled properly in his seat.

Lena helped Wyatt extract his walker from the trunk and Jean drove off with a goodbye that was far more cheerful than anyone should be this early in the morning. It was pay day, wasn't it? Lena should ask Wyatt to sneak her some coffee from the break room. He caved easy.

Wyatt went through the side door up the ramp while Lena trudged her way toward the main entrance of the school. He was thrilled for class, which made one of them. Only he could make computers and programming somehow fun. Other students waited on the sparse lawn and parking lot of Jasper Memorial High School, walking in early like punctual weirdos or loitering like her. Lena dropped her backpack and stepped onto her board, rolling around the tiny parking lot. She sourly eyed the spot of the missing bench, removed for exactly the reason one might think. Lena mourned the sick moves she got off that metal bench.

Lena spotted a kid from class studying and groaned. She'd skip, but she didn't want to disappoint her foster parents like that again. She cringed when she recalled the first time she did skip - or, rather, the first time they becameaware she'd skipped - back when she wouldn't bat an eye because what did they care? They just wanted a cheque from the state like every other family that tried to claim they 'Just want what's best for you' and then sent her back when what she wanted didn't fit those rigid little boxes.

The devastated looks on Jean and Wyatt's faces when thirteen-year-old Lena exploded at them was forever burned into her memory. She'd ran afterward, down the driveway and into the night, no destination in mind. And then Jean had found her, curled up on a kiddie slide. Lena faintly remembered the confusion of seeing Jean exit the vehicle, the tentative hope when Jean sat on the slide beside her and just... listened. No adult had ever listened to her before. That was the night Lena knew they were for real. Lena couldn't call them parents - she might never utter the words 'Mom' or 'Dad' - and that was okay. The cool couple that saw a feral pre-teen and said, "That's the one" was good enough for her. They joked about wanting a kid, but not the stress of pregnancy or toddler years. "Pre-baked," Wyatt had once teased.

Lena's hip bleeped. She paused her skating to fish out the hungry Tamagotchi clipped to her cargo pants. She'd made it her mission to care for the digital pet since Mi-

"Leee!" a voice squealed, followed by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. "Hi!"

Hey, speaking of!

"Hi," Lena greeted with a big smile on her face. "Plans still solid?"

Lena heard Miko's grin. "Oh, yeah. I'm so pumped. Weekend Wreck-fest is in. The. Bag! I got Raf to download basically every slasher and horror onto a USB for me." Miko dangled the USB in Lena's face, and Lena stored it in her pocket.

"Suh-weet! Jean's letting us have the garage. We're gonna move the TV and couch in."

"Uh, don'tcha mean Jean is gonna move them?"

"Hey, I got muscle!" Lena flexed her arms, squishy with stubborn baby fat. Miko poked an unimpressive bicep. "These babies got me top batter."

"Is that even a real title?"

"It totally is."

"Okay, 'batter baby'."

"Batt- what?"

"Nothing, baby, what's the batter with you?"

Lena scoffed out a laugh and spun around to gently bop Miko on her massive forehead. "Dude," Lena said, "that was so bad."

"So bad it's good?"

"No, just bad." Lena playfully pushed Miko away and kicked off on her skateboard. "Where are you getting these, Puns 101 for Dummies? You gotta step up your game, dude."

Miko trailed after Lena, a bubbly bound to her gait. "Hey, I'm always at the top of my game!" A loud-ass horn honked and Miko spun around to wave enthusiastically at the green SUV. "See ya later! Put some dents in those junkheaps for me." Its headlights flashed, then Miko's friend drove off.

Lena was wary of the guy at first, but she'd never seen Miko so ecstatic as the few months she'd known him. Military, Miko had said, and then snickered when Lena mimed gagging herself.

"Not American military," Miko had clarified before going off about something else.

Lena had spoken to the SUV's owner a couple times. He went by the nickname Bulk and seemed genuine enough, nothing sinister on the surface. Friendly and loud - songs Lena recognized often blared from the speakers when he picked Miko up for sci-fi club. A goofball, and the kind of energy that got along with Miko's like a house fire. Lena was just glad Miko was making friends. Small town middle-of-nowhere America was super rough, especially for a foreign kid who couldn't fit in, and who didn't want to. A flash of orange hair caught Lena's eye. She met Vince's bitter gaze and put her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead, sticking out her tongue for good measure. He sneered and turned back to his buddies. Lena smirked.

The bell rang. Kids funneled into the building. Lena made it halfway to homeroom before she had to navigate backwards against the sea of teenagers to fetch her forgotten backpack. She collapsed into her chair just as the pledge and national anthem started over the PA system. As per usual, Lena remained in her seat. Also per usual, the teacher glared at her. Lena passive-aggressively adjusted her baseball cap, drawing attention to the pins clustered on it that sported all sorts of slogans such as THIS LAND IS THEIR LAND and LAND ISN'T FREE. Yeah, none of the teachers liked her. But Lena wasn't here to be liked. Supposedly, she was here for an education. In a system that squashed individuality and trained students to sit down, shut up, memorize, and obey.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lena spotted Miko doodling in her sketchbook. Lena texted a sequence of emojis embodying all the joy Lena couldn't contain (unamused, several Z's, sleepy). Miko replied, equally as zealous (sick, skull, ghost).

"Girls! Phones away!" the teacher barked over announcements, tapping a ruler on her desk. "Do I need to take them?"

Lena shot over one more emoji (barf) before tucking her phone away and exchanging it for a textbook to inanely flick through, one knee persistently jiggling as it so frequently did the moment she became idle. She glanced at the clock, which hadn't moved in five minutes. Lena leaned back, suppressing a groan. The day could not be over soon enough.

Soon enough, the day was over. Thank fuck.

School dragged on and on and on, the only reprieve being lunch - when she got to lounge around with Miko at their spot - and gym class, where Lena was able to go batshit during dodgeball and climb on things that were actually meant to be climbed on (trees didn't count, according to faculty). Lena had softball practice after, and boy, was she glad Jean made her carry around a tube of sunscreen. Whoof, that Nevada sun would kill a man. Miko hung around to cheer her on and snap some pics of Lena eating dirt to touch base. Those were going in the scrapbook, for sure. A shower and chugged water bottle later and Lena was off to the skate park. Miko's ride whisked her away, her cries of, "Don't miss me too much!" on the wind. Miko hung out the SUV window, dramatically reaching for Lena like some cheesy romance flick. Lena tried to keep up on her board, and when it was time to split off, blew Miko a kiss that was caught and turned into devil horns.

Jaiden and her gang were chilling on the play structures when Lena rolled up. Jaiden and Kayla were perched atop and hanging upside-down from the spiderweb dome, respectively. Kayla spotted her first and beckoned her over.

"How's it goin', fireball?" said Tami.

"Hello, Padawan. Welcome to my zen zone," Vee said from the ground, flat on their back under a tree and beanie pulled over their eyes. The distinct scent of weed hung around Vee. Lena claimed the free swing next to Tami, who was being pushed by Theo. The group chatted. Theo made the executive decision to skate, and they all migrated over to the cement playground that served as Jasper's skate park. Jaiden, Lena, and Tami joined him while Vee and Kayla spectated, conversation topics leaping to and fro at the whims of neurodivergent teenagers.

"Yo, Lena, you hear about the race later tonight?" Jaiden said.

Suffice it to say, Lena did not stay at the park. The race location was scribbled in her science notebook, which had also coincidentally become a second doodle book for Miko. She rolled till the dirt roads forced her to kick it on foot, board strapped to her backpack.

Honk-honk!

A bright blue muscle car rumbled past. Lena trotted after it. The older teens that she stuck to like a determined burr had no interest in street races, but they kept an ear out for Lena, who absolutely did. She found the small crowd huddled around and the line-up of vehicles raring to go. Lena preferred being early to ogle at the cars and mingle, but she was happy just to be there. She recognized most of the faces. Street races were one of few recreational activities in Jasper, and they happened every other week if you knew the right people. Considering everyone knew everyone, you'd be hard-pressed not to have at least heard about it.

The blue muscle car sat in its spot, driver cool as a cucumber as she leaned on the door and chatted to whomever. Lena eyeballed the woman's cropped leather jacket and unbothered, confident demeanour. She found herself leaning against a rickety wooden fencepost, totally not mimicking the badass in blue (dammit, she totally was). The driver noticed her and smiled. For some reason, Lena's face heated up.

She called Lena over. "Hey, kid! Nice board. You get that custom done?"

"Yup," said Lena. "I love your car." And your jacket.

"Ah, thanks. Ritika's my baby; I built her from the ground up. You like racing?"

"I love racing. The speed and the- augh, the, y'know, the everything. Boom! Wah-cha!" Combined with pantomimed punches, Lena filled in the blanks. "The whole feeling."

"Ha, yeah, I getcha. Hey, you know what? I'm part of a racing league. We're always looking for new players. If you're interested someday- dhhatt. You got a pen, kid?"

"Lena," Lena said, digging a pencil out of her bag.

"Lena? Thanks for comin' out to cheer me on. My name's Sharwa." Sharwa scribbled on a wrinkled scrap of paper and passed it on. "That's our business number. Hit us up if racing for profit - or just for the hell of it - strikes your fancy. Finish school first, though, huh? Get your education. Don't wanna be a dropout like me."

I wish, Lena thought. Someone yelled; they were about to begin. Lena went to join the crowd of onlookers, but the glossy red sports car pulling up to the function stopped her in her tracks. Lena gawked. Purple flame decals embellished its crimson flanks and eye-sore yellow rims distinguished it from the rest of the competition. Sharwa called out to the driver; Lena didn't hear the reply. Sharwa was grinning. Oh, shit, did they have a rivalry going on? Racing drama!?

Lena inched closer.

"Give it your best shot," oozed a roguish masculine voice, punctuated by a rich rev of his engine. "Victory tastes so much sweeter when they try."

Sharwa laughed. "Put your pedal where your mouth is, batuni."

"Oh, I will."

Racing drama. Cool.

Engines growled. Spectators cheered. The starter raised their hat. Lena held her breathe.

The hat dropped. Dust billowed up in thick clouds as cars roared to life. Lena held her cap in place. Her eyes stung, but she couldn't look away from the beasts tearing up the road, becoming shrinking shapes on the impromptu racetrack. The setting sun burned red on the sand, transforming the desert into a sea of rust. Or blood. Lena scampered over to a cluster of boulders and scaled them. She watched, enraptured. The racers completed one lap, and there was a noticeable lead.

The red car seized a strong first. Chasing his tail was Sharwa and third place, the rest of the pack lagging behind. Red slowed down - or Sharwa caught up? - and then the 180 happened.

Red spun around, keeping his speed and maintaining his position backwards. It was the single most peacocky maneuver Lena had seen, and she was living for it. She wasn't big on NASCAR or actual cars: this is what she loved. Being in the moment, feeling the wind on her skin and the excitement in her veins. It was the thrill she chased when she rolled down steep ramps and pulled a risky stunt mid-air. It was the feeling of rejecting limits and just going for it.

The moment red finished first was the same moment the cops showed up.

"Scatter!" someone shouted, but the crowd had already dispersed. Lena dropped from her watchtower and bolted in the same direction as the victor. Cracked pavement replaced packed dirt and Lena jumped onto her board. Distant sirens wailed behind her. Shadows elongated. Lights of Jasper blinked in the low glow of dusk. Lena caught up to the taillights, to her surprise. Possible introductions ran through her head.

"Hey!" The car jolted in response. Did she startle him? "Wait up!" He sped up, and Lena yelled, "You were awesome back there! Nobody even stood a chance!"

He slowed to a crawl. Lena beamed and kicked her board up into her hands. The car's windows were tinted almost black.

"Hmm. Do go on about how awesome I am," he said.

Lena appealed to his ego with genuine compliments. He was receptive, but that changed when Lena asked him to sign her skateboard. If a car could recoil, this one would. Audible disgust dripped from his tone.

"Keep your primitive twig on wheels to yourself," he said. "There's enough filth clinging to my paint already."

Lena wrinkled her nose. "A 'no' would've worked just fine. Jeez, man. You a dick to all your fans?"

"Just the whiny ones."

Lena wasn't about to let that slide. "Alright. Why don't you come out and say that to my face like a grown-ass man?"

Now, Lena... well, she never claimed to be a genius, but picking a fight with a random man on the outskirts of town - illuminated overhead by a sketchy streetlight - would be obvious to anyone as a bad idea. If this was a horror movie, she'd be yelling at the idiot on-screen to get the fuck outta dodge. Lena, however, functioned on two modes: chilling, and throwing herself at the closest douchebag. Her street cred was insane. So when she rapped on the nearly opaque window, she expected some guy to step out and underestimate her because what could a fifteen-year-old do to him? But nobody did. She cupped a hand around her eyes to peer inside.

The wind was knocked out of her when the door flew open. She stumbled, then rounded the door to confront the-

There was no one inside the vehicle.

A taser shot out of the dashboard and delivered a hearty zap! between her eyes. She toppled forward. A seatbelt snaked around her and hauled her awkwardly into the seat.

Lena's watch beeped. 7:00 lit up the digital display.

Getting kidnapped was probably a good reason for missing curfew, right?

AO3 || Chapter 2

#transformers #tfp #soup's on #hot wheels tfp fic #maccadams #knock out #transformers fic

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am-i-soup · 9 months ago

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Hot Wheels (a tfp fanfic)

Chapter 2: Too-Close Encounters

AO3 || Chapter 1

Lena ran for her life. She knew better than to look back, and focused instead on her breath and the next step of her half-baked escape.

Fuck, okay, she didn't have a next step: 'get away' was as far as she got. Colossal corridors stretched as far as she could see, splitting off in confusing twists and turns that made her feel like a rat in a maze. A gloomy purple glow lit her way. If she wasn't in such egregiously deep shit, she'd be gushing over the colour scheme. And the fact that giant robots were after her. Actually, scratch that last bit - she still wasn't sure this wasn't an incredibly realistic dream. Robots patrolled the halls, each one a copy of the last. Their steps rattled her bones. Lena ducked behind extrusions in the walls, staring fearfully as the metal titans walked on. Sweat glued loose hair to her face. Ugh, why didn't she listen to Jean? She did her best to tuck it under her hat while she ran.

Voices approached. Huffing and puffing, Lena ducked into her usual spot, grateful for a rest. The robots didn't make a habit of looking down. With any luck, she should be-

The floor disappeared right out from under her.

For a brief moment, she hung in the air, weightless. She was reminded of a Wile E. Coyote skit. The ground rushed up to meet her and Lena had that brief moment to decide how painful she wanted the landing to be. Good thing she had experience with that.

Lena shielded her head as she threw herself into a sloppy roll. Her ankles ached as they absorbed the brunt of the fall. She sprawled on the cold floor, taking time to catch her breath. Ow, okay, it wasn't a dream. Where was she now? Gazing up at the ceiling, it seemed to be a vent or channel of some sort. It was still massive. Heavy footsteps rumbled by. Lena recognized one of the voices.

"-can't get far. Why don't we ask Soundwave to find it?"

"We can't ask Soundwave! He'll tell Lord Megatron, and then I'm scrapped because I brought a fleshie on-board and lost it."

"Okay, okay. Let's split up. Cover more ground, right?"

"Right."

Phew. Saved by the convenient gap in the floor.

Lena waved a middle finger vaguely in the direction of her captor, then pulled herself up. Where did she go from here? Vents led everywhere, and there was a 1000% guarantee of her getting more lost. Tape would be nice, or spray paint. Lena checked her backpack. She took a swig from her water bottle. She slipped the switchblade into her pocket, and discovered something else inside. From her pocket, Lena drew the Tamagotchi and USB stick Miko gave to her, both still intact. She clutched the USB in her fist. Sorry, Meeks. Weekend Wreck-fest's gonna have to wait. The digital pet whined and she fumbled to shut it off again. Mo was hungry. She stowed him and the flashdrive safely in her bag. She checked her phone again. Still no signal. Battery? Manageable. Barely an hour had passed since that flashy dickhead kidnapped her.

Lena started walking. She used her knife to etch notches and arrows in the walls. Running for her life got boring once running left the equation. She rewatched Alien in her head. Maybe Ripley would have some tips for her.

It was cold. Goosebumps sprouted all over her arms and she rubbed them futilely. She never thought she would miss the stifling heat of the desert. On top of that, she skipped dinner and her stomach wasn't letting her forget it. Lena dug out the baggie of goldfish crackers to munch on.

Her undisturbed hike couldn't last forever.

"Decepticons!" snarled the P.A. system. "Knock Out has foolishly set a human loose upon this ship! Catch it, and bring it to me."

Looks like they told Soundwave. What a snitch.

Lena picked up the pace. Her boots thudded on solid metal. A ship. A freaking spaceship? She was operating on the impression they were at ground level, or inside a mountain maybe, but space? The Alien reference was just jokes. How was she supposed to get home? Finding an exit was pointless if there wasn't even a chance of getting back to her own planet.

"C'mon, think, think, think," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her palms to her head. She growled. Ugh, she was never good at making plans. Lena's trek continued. Robots trampled overhead, every one of them combing the ship for her. She clambered into a smaller offshoot vent. It'd be harder to get her in there.

A high-pitched droning sound trilled somewhere inside the ship. It stopped, and Lena disregarded it. Some minutes later, she turned a corner and came face-to-face with what she could only describe as a giant paper airplane. Like everything else in this hellscape, it was made of metal. A glowing pink strip of light sat in what could be a face. The thing oddly reminded her of a bird. There was that high-pitched noise again - and it was coming from the origami X-wing. Hearing it clearly, Lena decided it was more of a warble, and it cemented in her mind that this, indeed, was a big-ass bird. Lena channeled her inner Jean and inched closer to the oversized pigeon.

"Hey there, big bird," she said. "You lost? I don't have any treats..." What did it eat? Electronics? Lena banished the thought of her priceless possessions and extended an arm. The bird's four- no, six wings wavered. "Hi, bud. You're kinda cute. 'm not gonna hurtcha. It's okay." Two little t-rex arms stuck out below the V-shaped visor. They were alarmingly sharp, but didn't so much as twitch at her approach. Lena put away her knife. The bird didn't have eyes, but Lena felt it watching her all the same. When her palm met warm metal, she smiled. "Heya, birdie. Wanna keep me company down here? We can be lost together." She patted the metal, making her way to the seams where wings met the body. It shook itself like a dog, then sank down on its landing gear with a hiss of hydraulics. Its presence was comforting, and the warmth it radiated was a welcome change. Birdie didn't seem to mind. She talked to it, explaining how she ended up here and reminiscing about home. About Earth, really. Her odds weren't looking good. She missed her friends, her foster parents. She missed Miko.

Birdie jolted and Lena flinched. "What's up? Hey-"

Two purple cables snaked from Birdie's chest. They wrapped around Lena before she could retrieve her knife. She fought the constricting grip, spitting curses and even trying to slip free of her backpack, to no effect. Birdie carried her out of the vents and into the open. Cables dangled her over a bone-shattering drop to the floor. Mechanical heads turned as the pair whizzed by, a doppler effect of colourful swearing leaving bystanders bewildered. Lena did not stop struggling, even as the backstabbing bird flew into an enormous room lined with windows and giant computer monitors.

A slender blue robot stood sentry, bearing a blank screen for a face. It reached out.

"Nuh-uh! Get your creepy ass away from me!" Lena shouted, kicking at spindly fingers as she fell into its hand. Lena gaped when Birdie's body shifted and integrated with her latest captor, fitting neatly into its chest. A built-in bird spy!

Cool.

The robot carted her off to another, more imposing robot. This second one was tall with massive shoulders that were spiky as hell, and the whole of it a boring silver compared to the rest of them. That wasn't a huge compliment considering 99% were the exact same model, and Lena wondered who designed them and decided what the robots looked like because these were some badass designs. They must have a lot of money...

Oh, no.

"Soo, Navy? CIA? Department of Defense? I'm not a threat. I'm just a high-schooler. Oh, cool symbol, bro. You get that trademarked?"

Big Man™ side-eyed Bird Man. "Summon Knock Out. I will know why there is a human on my warship, and why my forces have been scouring the halls for it."

"-their burgers because that shit is greasy. The milkshakes, though, they've gotta be putting crack in those things. The fries are always kinda-sorta soggy and it ruins the whole experience."

"And quiet its incessant nattering."

A squeeze to Lena's torso sent her into a coughing fit. Yeah, yeah, shut up - she got the message. She planned not to speak till Knock Out joined them, but dots connected in her brain and she couldn't stop herself from blurting, "So, you're Megatron."

Megatron's comically large eyebrow twitched. Lena bit her cheek to keep the laughter in.

Heavy footsteps clump-clump-clumped into the room. Familiar red metal covered the new robot, and a familiar voice came from a porcelain white face. "My Lord! My deepest apologies. I- I was just, ah, about to inform you, My Liege, of my thesis!"

Megatron bared shark-like teeth. "And what, pray tell, is that?" Oho, he was pissed!

Knock Out fumbled for an answer. Megatron's features narrowed. His hands squeezed into creaking fists.

"I grow tired of impertinence, Knock Out. Whatever excuse you may come up with does not excuse your unauthorized jaunt off this ship, nor why you saw fit to bring a human aboard it!"

A fist raised. Lena winced, ready for the impact.

Megatron pointed a clawed finger at Knock Out. "You will not leave this ship until I command it. Do I make myself clear?"

Knock Out bowed his head. "Crystal, My Liege."

"Good. Now, dispose of the human. Soundwave cannot be distracted from his duties cleaning up your messes."

They're gonna kill me, Lena thought. Knock Out stepped closer. The spindly fingers restraining her tightened, and Lena knew she had to do something.

"Hey, we can work something out!" she called, looking right at the steely leader with the ridiculous eyebrows. Her mind raced, filling in a mental corkboard with what little string she had. "You don't get around humans much, huh? And the government probably knows you're here, right? You don't have as much freedom as you'd like."

Megatron's expression did not change. Despite the cold, Lena was sweating.

She said, "I'd be a great asset to your team. I have experience in the field and solid references. I'm great at people management and perform well under pressure. My hours are flexible and I'm a hard worker. Mister Lord Megatron, have you considered how useful a human could be to your, uh, team? You have an opportunity to learn insider information about Earth and pass undercover. Nobody suspects the little white girl. Plus, I can sneak into, like, so many places." She smiled unnervingly wide and spread her arms like a greasy car salesman, or like a weirdo asking for a hug. "Don't flush me, I help you. Whaddya say?"

Megatron blinked very slowly. His gaze shifted to something above her. Lena craned her head back. Soundwave's screen face displayed an image, but the angle was too steep for Lena to make out the full picture. She looked to Megatron as he made a thoughtful sound. She tried to appear cool and collected and not totally desperate, channeling her inner Jean.

"The Autobots' pets do offer the rare edge," Megatron said, "but as much as they're a weakness. What upper-hand does one pathetic organic offer me?"

"Ah, My Liege, if I may?" piped up Knock Out. Megatron's glare asserted that he very much may not, but Knock Out continued: "The pieces of holoform technology we currently have are not sufficient enough to patrol populated areas. Keeping a low profile and having our own fleshie to blend in would put us on equal footing with the Autobots, er, not that we aren't, the Autobots are trembling in their..." Knock Out's speech lost ground the longer Megatron silently stared, 'til Knock Out clamped his metal mouth shut and awkwardly pursed his lips.

"Soundwave," said Megatron, "what are your thoughts?"

Lena jumped when she heard Megatron's voice behind her, staticky and warped.

"Autobots' pets do offer- weakness," said Soundwave. "Autobots- care too much. Our own fleshie- expendable. A human could be- a great asset. We- have an opportunity. Information- blend in- plus, I can sneak into, like, so many places."

Lena shivered at hearing her own voice repeated back. Creepy. This had to be their tech guy. "Can you do music?" Lena quietly asked him, with no reply.

Megatron hummed. Knock Out scoffed, and Lena caught him doing a quick eye roll. It was funny, in an 'I could die at any moment in a space soap opera' way.

"Yes," Megatron said. "The Autobots are attached to their pets, and that is their greatest flaw. Perhaps there is some use to be squeezed out of these creatures." Red eyes flicked to Lena. She squared her shoulders. Megatron sneered. "Or none. Knock Out, since you saw fit to bring the human aboard, you will monitor it. Soundwave will assign it where he sees fit. Keep it out of my sight."

Megatron turned away, and that was meeting over. Lena would live! Well, maybe - she'd enlisted herself in some sci-fi robot army, but hey, at least it wasn't the American army! Probably; Lena was still holding on to these being aliens. "Hi," she said to the robot holding her, "how you doin'? Soundwave, right? Sick name. Call me Lenny. No, wait, sorry, actually call me Lena. I was trying out a nickname and I just cringed so bad. Who's your favourite final girl?"

Soundwave passed her to Knock Out. Sharp fingers bigger than Lena's whole body closed around her, and she struggled fruitlessly. There was no getting out, and she knew that, but giving up felt like defeat.

Lena twisted to keep Soundwave in her sight as Knock Out stomped out of the room. "Mine's Ripley. Close second is Carrie!"

"Don't you have an off switch?" Knock Out complained, giving her a little shake. Lena braced herself on the hand, then scowled up at him.

"Yeah, I've got one right here." She aimed a middle finger at his face.

Knock Out curled his lip. "Reeal original, squishy. Try it again and see what happens. I've been meaning to test my surgical tools on a fleshbag."

Lena didn't try it again. Much as she wanted to, she did not want to discover how genuine he was being even more. Any other attempts at conversation were shut down. Knock Out was sick of her, and some part of her took spiteful joy in it. The other part was her survival instinct, and it told her to shut up for her own sake. Satisfaction wasn't worth getting squished, as Knock Out so frequently liked to threaten. Megatron didn't give a shit whether she lived or not, and neither would Knock Out. She had no allies here. Lena was alone. She hugged her arms. The robot's grasp wasn't cold.

A massive door shwoosh'd open. Inside were to-scale medical beds and tables. Another robot was pacing a trench in the floor, blue and bulky with an orange face and yellow eyes. Lena had to double take at the impressive size of its rack.

"Well?" he prompted. "How did it go?"

"Terrible," said Knock Out. "I'm grounded. Forbidden from the ground, rather."

"Oh. That's not too bad. Could be worse, right?"

Knock Out carelessly dropped Lena on a table. He turned to his companion, one hand on his hip. Lena stumbled and righted herself. The blue bot stared at her as if finally registering her presence.

"You're right," said Knock Out. "We have also been assigned babysitting duty. Can you believe it, Breakdown?" He scoffed. "I used to be respected."

Breakdown said, "Wait, Megatron really let you keep it? What did he say?"

"He's giving it a job. As if a human could actually be useful to us!"

"You said yourself I could be useful," Lena accused.

Knock Out peered down at her. "To save my own paint. Do you really think you, a puny, squishy little... thing can help the Decepticon cause?"

Lena threw her arms wide. "I don't know! Can I? I said that shit to save my skin, too! You were literally going to kill me."

"Tch. See? Useless."

"Wh- yeah, hey, why did you even take me in the first place? You kidnapped me. I have- I have a home, and friends, and you just stole me away from that!"

Sarcastic, Knock Out said, "Oh, how well and good for you."

"No! No! Because you stole me! What, just to kill me in the end? Because I- 'cause I fucking looked in a car window? What the fuck, man!" Lena wanted to kick something, or throw something, to release the anger boiling under her skin. She ripped off her hat and threw it to her feet. She repeatedly clasped and unclasped her hands, itching for something to break, but there was nothing. The table was pristine; not even a speck of dust. Lena marched the length of the table. She marched back, picked up her hat, and put it on. The robots wordlessly observed.

"Take me back," Lena demanded.

"Uh?" said Breakdown.

"Take me home."

"No," said Knock Out.

"Why not?"

"His Lordship's orders. You stay here until you get an assignment. Want to take it up with him?"

Lena stewed silently. She chewed her cheek.

"Mhm. You're stuck here, and I'm stuck with you. Pity for the both of us. Breakdown, be a dear and help me clean up? I never got the chance after someone decided to run off and lead us on a wild juice chase."

"Sure thing," replied Breakdown. He walked away.

"It's 'wild goose chase'," Lena bitterly said.

"Goose? Why would we be chasing goose? You made that up."

"Why would you be chasing juice?"

"Energon, obviously."

"What the fuck is that?"

"Ugh. Nevermind. Stop talking. My processing power decreases every time you open your gross, fleshie mouth."

AO3 || Chapter 1

#tfp #hot wheels tfp fic #transformers #soup's on #knock out #breakdown #megatron #soundwave #lazerbeak #can you tell i'm desperate for reblogs lmaoo #maccadams #fanfic #transformers fic

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am-i-soup · 9 months ago

Text

Bugs and Features (a tfp fanfic)

Chapter 1: Vermin

AO3 |

Summary: Elytron came out of the Well wrong from the get-go: smaller than a mech's servo and a scraplet for an alt mode - not even a form for the functionists to fuck over because it didn't get any lower than that. Which Prime did they piss off in the Allspark to be cursed so badly?

Shoved in a scraplet trap with the other vermin, Elytron awakens megaannums later in an Autobot base on a faraway planet, nothing to do but survive.

Elytron shakes out their wings, cracks open a ventilation shaft, and does the one thing they excel at: hiding. And stealing. They were multitalented.

-----

It was dark. And cold. They were frozen stiff, surrounded on all sides by frigid, unrelenting metal that pressed into every nanometre of their armoured outer shell. Each program and sensor activated in a numb and muddled state, systems puttering online at a glacial pace. Limbs shifted, starting as mere twitches and growing stronger as warmth and awareness spread to each frozen form. Old, frozen joints cracked to life. The breems ticked on, and the metal mass thawed.

Bodies - thousand upon thousands of crawling, buzzing, hungry bodies - woke up.

Elytron was slower to come to. Their processor sluggishly assessed the information it was being fed, and then finally did something with it. Elytron's memory banks stuttered as they struggled to recall the last... whenever.

Yelling. Crunching. Buzzing.

SLAM! into the capsule with the rest of the pests. BVVOOM! as the shuttle launched into the cold, so cold, abyss of space.

Ah. That's right: they were shut in a scraplet trap with the rest of the vermin. The sounds of metallic teeth whirring startled Elytron into joining the squirming masses trying to escape their prison. The small bot's body was weak, and their mind was fritzing. Alerts flooded Elytron's HUD. Their empty tanks pinged insistently. The whirring and grinding of metal being devoured grew louder. Light bloomed from above. The breach widened into a gaping maw and scraplets were flooding out of the capsule, carrying Elytron's frame atop the writhing, unstoppable wave. Elytron felt much like a stray piece of garbage caught in a planet's pull. Or a rock being tumbled alongside the gravel and rust, mistaken for a crystal when it's really just the same as the other junk.

Elytron waited for the bulk of the swarm to disperse before shambling after the scouts that seemed to have some idea of where to go. Elytron had a better chance at finding energon with the scraplets. Critical errors flashed on their HUD. Yes, they knew they were low on energon, thank you for using valuable energy to announce it.

They didn't know how long they walked, stick-thin legs of their alt mode tik-tik-tiking on the floor. Their chronometer had shut off to conserve power. A thought of What if there is no energon? swirled around their helm. Then they would go into stasis, and die. Elytron didn't have enough power to worry about it.

Familiar sounds of drilling drew Elytron's weakening chassis.

Elytron would later be embarrassed of the way they lunged for those few drops of energon. They had one shred of dignity left and didn't want to squander it, even if they were a starving mech. Elytron transformed with their last dregs of energy and tipped their helm back to catch the fuel trickling from the damaged pipe. When they'd consumed enough to regain higher brain function, Elytron continued to stand under the leak, now with even less self-respect. They cupped their servos together and poured the precious pooling energon into their intake.

Sated, Elytron surveyed their surroundings and pondered where the Pit in Unicron's exhaust pipe they'd landed.

A massive concrete hallway stretched on either side of them, cables and ducts and fuel lines running along the walls and ceiling in a distinctly non-Cybertronian design. There was a reinforced, subterranean feel about the place, one that Elytron recognized from their time in the mines. A bunker? Whose dumbaft idea was it to drag a scraplet trap into their bunker? Elytron waggled their antennae around the leaking fuel line, skimming the multitude of question marks that popped up. Those were not Cybertronian metals. Doing the same to the energon revealed similar unknown minerals that hadn't been refined out - likely due to damaged or subpar machinery. An alien planet equipped with functioning Cybertronian tech. Refugees? The war was getting bad, city-states in ruins all over the world and governments falling apart, when Elytron had been unceremoniously ejected from its atmosphere. The last image burned into their processor before the door sealed was that red, boxy sigil welded with hard lines and wielded proudly.

Elytron wanted to know more about this place. And needed somewhere to hide.

Elytron freed their wings from their protective shell and gave them a good shake. They jumped into the air, and nearly became integrated into the floor when their wings locked mid-stroke. Lopsided, panicked fluttering gave their thrusters time enough to sputter to life and save their frame some nasty dents. They unscrewed a vent cover and climbed inside.

The place was a maze, each hallway a copy of the last. Doors were embedded in the walls, some large enough to fit a heavy construction frame, and some oddly sized for a minicon. Still too large for Elytron. Their visor dimmed in a scowl at one such door. Scraplets pitter-pattered past, ignoring Elytron's once-vibrant green and blue plating; Elytron wasn't on the menu. Scrap, they might as well be part of the hive. They pitied the sparks that had unknowingly brought this infestation down upon themselves.

A voice reached Elytron's audials. Inquisitive, they followed it to its source.

An organic. Elytron had never seen one before. Were all of them so... squishy? Brown fibrous growths sprouted from the top of its round head. Maybe a fungus of some sort? A symbiotic relationship with its host? The organic appeared to be unwell, stumbling over itself as it failed to traverse forward. Was it starving, too? Ew, or maybe it was infected with one of those organic brain diseases. No, it wasn't sick. It was playing: pretending to be in a harsh environment, separated from its colony. Why such a scenario would be 'fun' was lost on Elytron. Aliens were just strange like that.

Elytron was about to move on... but then the organic found a scraplet. Absolutely no idea of the danger it held in its hands, treating the pest like a domesticated mechanimal, petting it and speaking in soft, friendly tones. Elytron shook their helm, dumbfounded. They explored on. Watching an interesting alien make terrible choices was a wonderful pastime, but it didn't take precedent over scouting their new abode and finding a reliable source of fuel.

The screaming started after Elytron located the energon store room.

They jumped out of their shell when they heard it, antennae jolting into the air, rigid and alert. The shrieks continued anew: distant, but plenty clear enough to hear the raw terror and pain. The scraplets had found their prey. Elytron made note of the store room in their mental map and jettisoned up to the vent. They shifted into alt mode, scuttling swiftly through the ducts. They came to an intersection and stopped. Buzzing engines echoed up from one passage. The sound became louder, closer, intensifying as the floor under Elytron's pedes hummed.

A storm cloud of ravenous scraplets whizzed past. Elytron flew after them.

Why?

Mm, it was a toss-up between morbid curiosity and wary concern. Concern for their living situation if the big bots bit it, that is. Elytron didn't even know the state of this planet, let alone where to find energon. It didn't sprout up from the veins of organic... mish-mash. Elytron envied the organics and scraplets: being able to pop outside and take a bite out of the ground would make surviving a millions times less stressful. They tried it once. They didn't get the appeal.

The scene that greeted Elytron's optics was tragic, and one they'd witnessed far too many times. Three Cybertronians were being swarmed. Mangled trails littered each bot as the scraplets chewed through heavy armour like tin foil. Three organics helplessly waving about their weapons gave a valiant effort, but they were mere irritations to the hive. The hive had one goal, and it was to eat. Elytron turned away.

Green light flashed, brilliant and bright.

"Ready for the main course? Come and get it!"

Elytron turned back.

The utter mountain of a bot who'd yelled was upright, his dark green armour just as damaged as his comrades'. Thousands of optics focused on him, and he took off into the swirling tunnel of light. Elytron clutched the slats of the grate, pistons taut with suspense as they leaned in close. Every one of the flying forms gave chase, disappearing after their prey. And just like that, the infestation had been subverted. The few stragglers that remained fell victim to the organics and their blunt force instruments. Two more bots returned alongside the brave mech, no worse off than he'd left. Recovery began, helping servos lifting each other up despite their own injuries. The organics ran around, finding ways to assist where their diminutive forms could. This was a common occurrence, Elytron learned as they began to settle in.

It took days for the mechs to completely recover. Elytron's chronometer functioned once again, but this planet was ruled by different units of time. So they adapted. The organics - humans - were the dominant species here. Contrary to Elytron's original impressions, it became more and more obvious that these 'humans' were not, in fact, pets. Nor servants. They were equals. Well, close enough: they were still talked down to, but not out of malice. These were students, apprentices, still learning and eager to do so. Space travel was beyond their level of technology and these few Cybertronians were their first contact with other lifeforms.

Oh, and the intense red mech that generated his own gravity was the last Prime. The war never ended, and in large part resumed on this very world because Cybertron... well, Cybertron was dead. And energon was in frighteningly limited supply.

Elytron didn't mourn a world that was never home.

Soft fabrics were found hidden about the place, rolled and folded in little closets and coated with a fine layer of decaying matter. Elytron snatched those up, dragging blankets to a section of the vents they'd claimed as theirs - not before giving every piece of fabric a good whack. They shuddered at the volume of dust that billowed off. Blankets cushioned the metal floor, a large portion of them clumped together to make a plush nest that Elytron burrowed into when it was time to recharge. A few shards of glowing crystals sat in a pile: raw energon they'd nicked in case of emergency. They couldn't sneak out enough of the refined stuff to be worth storing and taking a whole cube was out of the question. Not only because of their diminutive size, but because these bots were too diligent about their supplies, particularly the cranky orange one. Elytron dreaded that anger turning on them if they were discovered, and Primus forbid any one of the mechs saw their beast mode. Another pest. Thief. Parasite. They'd go out just as elegantly as the other scraplets, flattened underfoot or booted out the door to starve.

"Optimus, take a look at this."

For some reason, Elytron's back struts straightened. They peered out at the large, open room that was essentially the spark of the whole base. Just two bots inhabited it.

"What is it, old friend?"

The orange mech held a cube of energon up to the Prime. "Do you see these scratches here? I thought nothing of them at first, merely cosmetic from rough handling, but if you look closer..."

The Prime did so. A bead of energon seeped through as Ratchet tilted it. "Such small incisions," said Optimus. "Ratchet, what does this mean?"

Ratchet's expression turned grim. "Vermin."

"But how? On Earth?"

"We had scraplets, didn't we? Who's to say something else didn't sneak in, as well? The last thing we need are leeches sapping our already meagre stores. We can't take that risk. I'm going to have to decontaminate the base."

"The children?"

"Will be fine. So long as nobody locks them in an airtight room."

Optimus visibly disapproved of his blithe tone. "Very well. Perhaps we should move our energon to somewhere more secure."

Ratchet nodded. "You do that. I'll deal with our... pest problem."

Elytron's self-assuring grip on their long antenna tightened. Bright blue liquid stained the tips of their claws. "Frag," they whispered.

And just like that, Elytron's attempt at living contentedly had been subverted. Again.

When the extermination came, it came in the form of a noxious gas. Elytron held little concern for its effects - it was homemade and spewed from a reconfigured leafblower, so call them skeptical - but hid in the rafters regardless. Their few possessions were stored in their subspace, reeling blankets into their chassis like one of those old street performers with seemingly infinite room. Unlike them, Elytron did not have an endless subspace and had to stash the remaining blankets in a high alcove. Once the gas cleared, Ratchet sent in a human to search for enstasised bodies. The pillows secured to Miko's fragile frame muffled the clanging and banging of her progress through the vents, and the only thing she found was a dead lizard that she dangled in Jack's face, cackling at his reaction. This disconcerted Ratchet - the lack of bodies, not the lizard - but Elytron would not see his next attempt at catching them for some time. For the most part, due to the fact that virus traps and electrical pulse lures weren't effective against a bot with intelligence higher than a glitch mouse.

Elytron needed a different way to secure energon. Their levels were high; they had time.

As they had learned, time moved faster on this planet. It still took Elytron by surprise when a few breems passed and suddenly the children were back again. Days, weeks - all spinning by in a blink. In the beginning, the humans were annoyances. Organics with squeaky voices, always getting underfoot; hadn't they learned? And yet, Elytron found themself... distracted by these creatures. The Miko one provided endless entertainment, and while too loud sometimes, the wired-up organic reigned herself in when prompted. The Jack one seemed to hold himself responsible for the others, but wasn't without his moments of levity. And the Raf one, quietest of all, had allocated all bodily growth to his processor. He was a clever sparkling, and Elytron would do well not to underestimate that naïve, squishy face.

Elytron's first mistake was assuming the residents forgot about the energon thief after a good, long abstinence from so much as looking at the stockpile.

Their second mistake was looting said stockpile in the middle of the day.

Their third was doing so in beast mode.

When the two-wheeler opened the door, Elytron's instinct was to freeze. When her optics bulged and a blade popped out of her forearm, Elytron's next instinct was to book it.

"Scraplet!" she screeched.

Elytron hid amongst the cubes. They couldn't reveal their exit, their only access to this room. Arcee didn't dare shoot at their sole supply of energon. If backup arrived, Elytron was fried. How in Unicron's left lugnut did they get out of this?

Elytron slunk around piles of junk, staying low. Heavy footsteps rattled their sensors. Backup had arrived, consisting of the medic and scout. Three bots for one little scraplet seemed overkill, but Elytron was probably biased.

The Autobots worried amongst themselves. They decided bait was the best course of action and Arcee was voted as the candidate. Elytron suspected pettiness was a factor here, sending in the one that didn't get chewed up last time.

Elytron thought if they snuck along the edges of the storage room, they could slip past. But the scout was too keen. He squealed when he spotted them. His arms transformed, ready to blow them to smithereens.

"Bumblebee, no!" the medic cried. "If you hit the energon-"

Elytron didn't waste any time bolting out the door. Thrusters activated, giving them a boost down the hall before sputtering and failing. They needed that energon, badly. Even a transformation would sap too much.

Arcee was not far behind. Blaster fire scorched the floor inches from their plating and Elytron gave a startled squeak. Scrap. They should've stayed with the energon.

"It's headed for the atrium," Arcee said. Oh, were they? Lots of places to hide there. "It's not interested in me at all."

TSCHE-CHU-CHU-TSCHE!

"Snack time's over, vermin," said the motorcycle.

Oh, boy.

Even with a motorcycle bearing down on them, Elytron reached the atrium - mostly - intact. They had to sacrifice fuel for speed, but it was either become a smoldering ball of scrap or starve. Elytron beelined for whichever refuge caught their eye first.

Hot, scorching pain erupted on their back. The force of the shot sent them hurtling into a sturdy stack of crates. Dazed, it took them several moments to kick into higher gear. One final burst of their thrusters propelled Elytron under a medical slab. Their frame rattled, fear and pain seizing most of their processing power. All that mattered was an Autobot couldn't fit underneath. Safety.

"Scrap. I lost it."

"Lost what?" one of the humans asked her. Jack.

"Apparently, when that scraplet horde infested the base, one got left behind."

"What?" came three alarmed shouts.

"That's what's been taking your energon?" Raf asked.

"Looks like it," Arcee said. "It's strange, though - I've never known scraplets to need it."

"It's never been recorded in known history," Ratchet interjected, the quaking floor signifying his arrival. "Strange things seem to be a regular on this planet."

Bumblebee beeped nervously.

"A straggler," Miko said ominously. "I'll get the crowbar."

Drip. Drip.

Nonono, frag. Elytron was leaking. The blast didn't cauterize!

Soft footsteps drew closer. Elytron huddled against a support strut, trying to make themself even smaller.

"Careful," Raf said.

"Chillax, Raf - they don't care about us, remember? Not metal." Closer. Fleshy features became clear as Miko crouched low, creeping nearer, a metal rod in her grasp. "Come out, come out, I'm not gonna hurtcha. Much. Aha - found you, freaky."

Curse their glowing optics.

A gleam entered her eyes. They didn't like it.

There was nowhere to run. Elytron was trapped.

"No more bot bites for you," she said, winding back the crowbar.

Elytron transformed. They flung out a trembling servo. Weakly, they pleaded, "Wait. Wait, I'm not a scraplet. Don't."

Surprise filled her face. Her arm dropped. "Whoa."

"Don't, please..."

"What are you?"

"I'm- I'm a minicon. Please, that's my alt mode. To - zzwrrch - blend in. Not a scraplet." Their voicebox was glitching. Biolights flickered. The wound had transferred to their leg, energon oozing onto the floor. "I nee- zrrt - energon. Energon." What a sorry state they must be in. Reduced to begging an organic to spare them... sigh. They'd stooped lower. "I'm - zzzrrt - fade anyway. Way. You can walk away. Lea- ffzzzt - me. They don't have to know." Warnings flashed. Elytron dismissed them. "Just leave me. Me. Don't have to know."

Elytron had lived a long, unfulfilled life. They'd flirted with death over and over again, and it prowled a little closer each time. Fighting every second to survive was exhausting, and at a certain point, giving up tasted sweeter than any drop of energon ever could. Elytron had things to say to Primus when they finally confronted him, none of them pleasant. Questions, too, but they weren't expecting answers. Beings beyond comprehension were infuriating like that. Maybe the Well would be a nice vacation. That'd be nice. Nice. Could be nice. A vacation would be nice...

Elytron powered down.

AO3 |

#bugs and features fic #soup's on #transformers oc #g/t #giant/tiny #transformers #maccadams #tfp #transformers fanfic

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