Transformation Complication
 

Hey, everyone.:)

This is the crossover idea with Transformers that I'd mentioned in my "Greetings" thread. The title is a reference to one of my favorite episodes of FHFIF, "Emancipation Complication", and it came as a result of having extreme difficulty thinking up a perfect title for the fanfic.

It is loosely based on the plot of the upcoming movie, and it will obviously feature each and every character from the show, from Bloo and Mac to Cheese and Goo. In additional, characters from other Cartoon Network shows and some Nickelodeon ones will be involved also. For the additional CN programs, I want to pay an homage to the "Invaded" theme of last month with characters out of two of the four other shows from the special brought into the tale and three that weren't part of the theme but I'd like to be included like Class of 3000, Dexter's Laboratory, and Codename: Kids Next Door. And for the Nickelodeon shows involved, the only ones that came to mind was Jimmy Neutron and The Fairly Oddparents.

The plot of the story is the same as the one for the movie. Two groups of robots (one evil and the other good) come to Earth to find an alien object known as the Allspark, which is sort of like their afterlife. As they wage a fierce war between each other on the planet, the Foster's gang gets caught up in the mix, when a neighbor and friend of Mac's purchases a Pontiac Solstice (that's in reality an Autobot named Jazz) and shares it with everyone at the mansion. Only when Bloo sees it transform does things get out of hand, as he tries to convince everyone that they're being invaded (again!) by "Robot Guys". Of course, after the Cheese incident, no one is willing to take him seriously, at least until they discover reports of mechanical monsters attacking in certain parts of the world.

I basically just give characters of each show a certain role in the story that's either crucial to the main storyline or just back it up a little. For example, Jimmy Neutron helping the military find a way to defeat the Decepticons (the bad guys) and the Autobots (the good guys), while the KND assist the gang from Foster's, Endsville, the cul-de-sac, Little Five Points, and Dimmsdale into defeating just the Decepticons with further aid from the Autobots.

The story will be posted on this thread around the release of the film, so everyone can understand what's all going on. And if anyone feels like a few things could be changed to make it more enjoyable to read or not seem a little dumb in a way, let me know either around the film's release or sometime before it and I'll be happy to alter things.

Hope everyone will be looking forward to this fanfic and the movie itself.:bloogrin:

Hey again, everybody.:)

I'm sorry I haven't posted this story yet. I've been pretty busy recently, not just with personal matters, but creative differences as well. I've had to make some changes to the storyline and characters for the crossover, until I was satisfied with my decisions.

I'll try to have it up in .html format as soon as I can. In the meantime, check out the "teaser poster" for the story here:

http://www.geocities.com/muppetman08...ion_poster.jpg

Here's the first chapter. It's not much, but it does give pretty good introduction to the main plot of this story.:)

Chapter One

?Miss Frances! Miss Frances! Miss Frances!?

Frankie Foster just wished for one day that dumb giant rabbit?created by her grandmother, Madame Foster?didn?t have to repeatedly say her name over the speaker like that?especially at nine o?clock in the morning, a time when she was just getting up.

?I?M COMIN?!!!!!? Frankie yelled as loud as her lungs could allow her.

That was all that it took to shut up Herriman. She never really liked screaming at other people like that. But ever since she was a teenager there at Foster?s Home For Imaginary Friends, she had to take care of the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, running fundraisers, working as the handyman, driving the house residents around in the multicolored bus, and taking care of her grandmother?s foster friends?all while under the strict supervision of Mr. Herriman?it was understandable to come under such tremendous stress.

She basically had to pry herself out of bed that morning, because she was so exhausted from her previous day of duties (and the ones before that). Even as she made her way out of her room and into the bathroom down the hall of the second floor, her mind was still on the short but bizarre dream that she had overnight.

In the dream, she was somewhere far up north, traveling in what seemed like an old pirate ship that had gotten stuck in the ice. She was buried deep within a warm, protective greatcoat and led a group of men that chopped, gouged, and chipped away at the ice pressure ridge that had not only trapped their ship but lifted it up above the waterline, using axes and picks and an occasional dose of dynamite. The captain that Frankie apparently was in her dream had alternately praised those members of the crew who were working hard while also doing her best to keep up the morale of others whose strength and spirit were beginning to flag.

?Put your backs into it, lads, or we?ll be chopping ourselves a path all the way back to the States!? Frankie said in her dream, as the expedition?s huskies howled louder and louder, sounding more anxious. And, without warning, they suddenly broke ranks and sprinted off into the haze. Cursing under her breath when she learned what had happened, Captain Foster picked up her rifle and a nearby lantern and gave chase, taking the nearest of the crew with her.

Whatever it was that had drawn the dogs away from the shelter and safety of the ship?s side was not immediately discernible. Having stopped and gathered in a circle around the object of their interest, they stood there barking and squealing. From the unholy racket they were making, Foster could not tell if they were angry, expectant, or afraid. Forcing his way through the circle of wailing, agitated dogs, one of the sailors who had accompanied the captain knelt and began pushing snow from side to side.

?Whatever it is has upset them,? the man contended, ?it?s below the ice.?

?Nothing?s below the ice,? Foster muttered as she looked on. ?This area is frozen solid and frozen deep.?

As they were debating alternative explanations there came a roar like nothing any of them had ever heard, not even at the height of a nor?easter at sea. There was no warning. One minute they were on hands and knees scrabbling at the snow; the next the surface beneath them simply parted as if smashed open by a gigantic cleaver. One sailor nearly fell through, only to be caught at the last instant by his companions and pulled to safety. A lead sled dog was not so lucky. Its terrified whines shrank with distance as it slid downward and disappeared.

A devoted dog being more valuable than a questionable woman, an anxious Foster had put her rifle aside to reach out and make a grab for the wide-eyed husky. For an instant she had it, a fistful of thick fur clutched firmly in one gloved hand. And then she didn?t. She?d lost her grip?along with her footing.

Fortunately for both woman and dog, the fissure was no more than thirty feet deep and the wall tolerably slanted. Still, it was a swift slide downward, and both landed hard when they hit bottom. While she had lost her hold on the husky, sheer determination had allowed the captain to maintain her grasp on the kerosene lantern clutched tightly in her other hand. As she hit bottom the lantern?s metal base clanged against the surface underneath. Somehow it stayed lit.

Clanged? she thought. That wasn?t right. Metal striking ice made a much duller sound.

Dazed but otherwise unhurt, she rose slowly to her feet. Body and lantern and dog all seemed to be intact. Instead of running off, the frightened husky cowered close by, whimpering against her legs. Tilting her head back, Foster hastened to reassure the frantic shouts that were raining down on her from above.

?I?m okay, lads! Nothing damaged but my dignity. I?ve taken worse falls on the hills in New Hampshire!?

Her ready and hearty response brought forth sighs of relief and not a few chuckles. Having reassured the crew, she set about reassuring herself?and promptly failed. Her eyes widened as she looked down at her feet and saw what had produced the unexpected sound of metal lantern striking unknown surface.

She was not standing on ice. She was not standing on rock. Beneath her feet and revealed in the glow of the lantern was the unmistakable gleam of metal. But it was metal unlike any she had ever seen. As she paced the surface below her feet and studied it more closely she thought she could make out a shape.

She certainly did not expect to see a hand.

It was huge, and she was standing in the center of its upraised palm. Gripping the lantern tighter than ever, she raised it above her head. Was that something else, not underfoot but shining from the ice wall directly opposite? She took a step closer?and stumbled hurriedly back, gasping in shock.

The face that stared back at her was proportionate in size to the gigantic hand on which she was standing. Its mouth was open: perhaps in surprise, perhaps in a scream. Despite the obvious eyes and mouth the visage was only vaguely human. Mouth, eyes: these she recognized. But there was also much that was inhuman and bewildering. Taken together it was all very foreign and?frightening.

She took courage from the fact that whatever it was, it was dead?or at least unmoving. Advancing slowly, she reached out and wiped at the ice with a gloved hand. Frost melted beneath her warmth or was caught and swirled away by the breeze that now filled the open fissure. She looked harder, closer. There was some kind of symbol, embedded in the shape?

Pulling her small pickax from her belt, she started chopping at the ice. If she could get a better look at the symbol, she reasoned, she might be able to identify it, and if she could identify it she could possibly determine its origin. Ice flew in chips and then small blocks, as if it had been imperfectly frozen. All the better for her, then. As she dug deeper the outlines of the symbols grew clearer. They remained unrecognizable, though. Maybe a variety of Russian, she mused.

Again and again the pickax descended in smooth, measured strokes. She was settling into a rhythm now. From beneath the point of his relentless ax, a light suddenly burst forth, bright and intense as the sun that had not been seen in days. It was replete with signs and symbols the stunned captain had no time to appreciate. Dropping the ax, she screamed and staggered backward, clawing at the burning pain that seared her corneas. Her hands ripped away her spectacles and sent them flying across the floor of the fissure. Hearing her screams, the newly anxious men clustered around the rim of the fissure and shouted frantically downward.

Foster did not answer them. Dazed and trembling, she straightened and dropped her hands from her eyes. On the floor nearby, her glasses lay open and miraculously unbroken. Had she picked them up they would not have done her any good. Their formerly clear lenses had been imprinted with a fantastic array of minute and completely unintelligible symbols that were utterly alien and incomprehensible to anyone on Earth.

But that was not why they were now useless to her. The imprinting was far too small to be detected by the human eye. They were of no use because Foster?s corneas and pupils were gone, obliterated in a single blinding surgical flash, leaving behind only a whiteness as pure and harsh and unforgiving as the snow that continued to drift down into the open, forbidding wound in the ice?.

However, none of it had made any sense to 21-year-old Frances ?Frankie? Foster, who had neither recollection of ever having an ancestor that had gone on such a bizarre expedition nor one that was a female captain. She had no idea why a dream like that would enter her mind?she just dismissed it as a result of the heavy workload she?d been receiving as of late?either that or something she ate before going to bed. Either way, she had more matters to attend to, such as waiting for Blooregard Q. Kazoo to get out of the bathroom, so she could get to cleaning herself up and getting ready for more chores of the day.

Knocking fiercely on the door, Frankie shouted, ?BLOO!! WILL YA HURRY UP?! I HAVEN?T GOT ALL DAY!!!?

From inside the bathroom, Bloo responded, ?Relax, Frankie. Beauty such as mine should be handled delicately. You don?t want me to come out looking like some type of freak, do you??

?I?d rather stand seeing you as a freak than losing my bladder from combustion!!!?

The door to the bathroom had suddenly opened, allowing Bloo to stick his head out long enough to stare up at Frankie with a big smile on his face. ?Man! Would I love to see that!!? Seizing her opportunity as it came, Frankie kicked Bloo out of her way and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. An angry Bloo then approached the door and began knocking more fiercely than Frankie had. ?Come onnnnnn, Frankie!! Let me in!! Let me in!!!?

?Ya snooze, ya loose, Bloo!?

?Oh, come on. That doesn?t even make any sense. I just got up!?

END OF CHAPTER ONE

I'll have another chapter up soon.:bloogrin:

Very cool!!

Man i was always wondering what if transformers anf Foster's crossed over would be like. please put goo in the story too. I want her to fight megatron LOL

Heres a little soundtrack to get you pumped up for the next chapter.
Transformation Complication Score Sample

Awesome. I'm looking forward to this.

Thanks for the comments, guys. I'll try to have another chapter up soon (hopefully by the time the movie gets out on DVD).:)

Hey, this is getting me pumped up for it! Thanks!;)

Chapter Two

Living next to the apartment of Mac was a couple of siblings that didn?t quite look relational on the outside, but very much so on the inside. These were the Andrews siblings?Sean and Alissa. Sean was a friendly, smart, generous, and handsome young man in his early twenties, who was often the one to take care of his older sister, even though she was five years older than him. Alissa was just like her brother, only she was a thousand times much friendlier, smarter, and beautiful, so much so that Sean had to keep her from being overly sensitive to the slightest stranger.

On that very afternoon they joined Mac to help Frankie and friends search for a new car for Frankie, the siblings knew that the afternoon would be quite enjoyable.

As the sign in front of the local VW-Porsche dealership loomed larger ahead, Frankie started to swerve in its direction, much to the surprise of Mac and the Andrews siblings. ?Wow, Frankie! You?re getting a Porsche?!? Mac exclaimed.

Frankie was about to happily answer Mac?s question, until her grandmother slapped her against the side of the head and answered for her. ?No, she?s not! And she?d better drive away from that shop, before she?s got no hands left to steer the wheel with!?

As Frankie veered at the last moment back into the northbound lane, she wondered why in the heck that she brought her grandmother along with Eduardo, Wilt, Coco, Bloo, Mac, and the siblings on their mission for a new car. As a matter of fact, she didn?t even remember seeing her come on the bus with them?almost as if she had slept there the entire week just to be ready for Frankie. It was her grandmother that was always saying, ?Keep the bus! It?s a company vehicle, and we need to advertise as much as we can for the friends! Don?t replace somethin? that ain?t broke, dearie!?

But as much as Frankie loved to help advertise the business with the Foster?s bus, she knew in her heart that it was time for her to get her own car?something that she could drive on her off days (when they rarely came). However, she also knew that Madame Foster would?ve never approved of her getting one, unless it cost less than four thousand dollars and came from ?Bobby Bolivia?s Auto Resale.? Bobby Bolivia?s place was the last one that Frankie had ever wanted to go to, because the cars there were cheap, smelly, and?well?pieces of pure crap. Unfortunately, it was exactly where they went, on the suggestion of none other than Madame Foster.

Gazing morosely at the train wreck of a selection on offer, Frankie was hard put to decide if the name of the shop referred to the owner?s patrimony or to the country from which the vehicles on display had been imported. The venerable machines packed too closely together facing the street were a long, long way from those shining on the lot of the Porsche dealership they had passed.

Standing out front on one side of the main driveway was a man in a clown suit. The suit had seen better days, and so had its occupant. His amateurishly applied face makeup was melting in the hot sun. Employing both gloved hands, the clown held up a sign that read, ?Cheap Wheels 4 U.? As Frankie and the others pulled into the lot, the clown flipped over the sign. The reverse declared, ?I?m not clowning around!?

?Man! Does this look like the most boring place in the world or what?!? Bloo exclaimed.

Frankie let out a deep sigh. ?I?m aiming for ?Or what?.? She turned to Madame Foster with a pleading look on her face. ?Grandma, this is the one in a lifetime opportunity for me to start driving something really cool. Something to show my friends that I?m not just some underpaid girl who can?t afford a stylish new model Nissan instead of some piece of crud.?

?Dearie, when I was your age, I would?ve been glad just to have had four wheels and an engine! You oughta count yourself lucky. You?re gonna get one with a roof, and windows, and maybe even a radio.? Madame Foster sternly told her.

?But you own something far greater than all that. You own a late-70s Pontiac Trans Am!? Frankie exclaimed.

?That?s because I?m old and I earned it! When you reach 78 and worked your fingers to the bone, you can buy one of the sportiest cars the world?s ever seen. But for now, you?re startin? from scratch!?

Frankie then said in a low tone, ?Yeah, and I bet these cars been scratched pretty darn good.?

As Frankie had parked the bus, Alissa approached her and said, ?You know, Frankie, our family has quite a motto that I think would work well for you in this situation.?

Sean rolled his eyes in exasperation. ?Oh, no, Allie. Not the family motto.?

?Hey, it?s gotten us through several worse case scenarios, and it could get Frankie through her dilemma right now.? Alissa said. ?What our family always says is ?No sacrifice?no victory?.?

Frankie took in the motto quite well, pondering over its value to her ?dilemma? as Alissa so wisely referred it as. But it wasn?t helping her out as much as Alissa hoped it would?ve for her. She felt twice as dismal as she had when they arrived at the shop, and she didn?t dare let her grandmother see how much she was, as they unloaded from the bus. Had she become an Andrews instead of a Foster, Frankie would?ve accepted that motto with open arms. But the fact of the matter was that nothing could?ve cheered Frankie up that moment. Especially not even the comments made by Bloo.

?If I knew we were gonna spend the day at the dump, I would?ve brought a clothespin to hold my nose with.? He boldly stated.

?But, Bloo, you don?t have a nose.? Wilt indicated.

?I know! And the saddest part is that I still smell one big pile of??

?BLOO!!? Mac yelled.

?What? I was gonna say ?trash?. Jeez, Mac!?

It wasn?t long before the lot?s owner met the group immediately. Professional welcoming smile plastered from ear to ear, the man approached to greet them, open hand extended to Frankie. ?Hiya, ladies and gents, hiya. Bobby Bolivia. Like the country, ?cept without the diarrhea.? His head bobbed, powered by relentless enthusiasm. To Frankie?s surprise, no wires were visible. ?At your service.?

?Nice to meet you, Mr. Bolivia.? Madame Foster stepped in. ?You probably don?t remember me, but I came to this shop, fifty-two years ago, to buy a car from your dear old father.?

?You did?? Bolivia said with much surprise, wondering how far back his family business must?ve went. ?Well, ain?t that something!? He looked in Frankie?s direction with a painted-on smile. ?So, I guess you?re here to help carry on the legacy, eh??

?Unfortunately.? Frankie muttered, not far from quite a nudge that her grandmother gave her against the knee after she made her sly comment. ?Ow!?

?Well, that practically makes us family. Call me ?Uncle Bobby B.?? Reaching out, he extended an arm and wrapped it around Frankie?s shoulders. She flinched but, trapped, decided it was useless to try and escape. ?I?ve been doing this a long time, kid. That first enchilada of freedom?s just waitin? under one of these hoods. See, drivers don?t pick their cars. Cars pick their drivers.? With his free hand, he traced an imaginary arc across the cosmos. ?It?s a mystical bond between man?or in your case, woman?and machine, for real.?

Bolivia then escorted Frankie through the heaps of metal that pockmarked the lot. Some, a discouraged Frankie decided, might once have been called cars. Madame Foster and the others followed, scrutinizing each minivan, each semi-fossilized coupe. Frankie ignored them one and all, her eyes barely focusing, and her brain on autopilot.

And then she stopped. Slipping free of Bolivia?s grasp, she retraced her steps, darting in among the ranks of junkers and discarded soccer-mom mishaps. She found herself staring at a really bright yellow Classic Camaro. Even though the color was a bit out of control, she wondered what kind of engine?dirty and probably in need of a serious tune-up?sat under the hood (assuming there was an engine). It even came with black, cheap looking racing stripes?obviously a Pep Boys? ten-dollar attempt to look cool.

She wasn?t the only one staring at the car. Bolivia gaped at it, then frowned, and finally gave vent to his confusion. ?Where?d this one come from? I don?t remember anybody rolling this out on the lot.?

Frankie tried the door, surprised to even discover that it was unlocked. She slipped inside the car and behind the wheel. The cushion felt good, comfortable, the seat back providing just the right amount of resistance against her spine. She didn?t even have to adjust it?it was just the right height and the ideal distance to the wheel.

Her initial delight at finding that the door opened and closed smoothly and that no loose springs were going to puncture her butt vanished as she studied the dash. Her expression fell.

?Gee, an actual eight-track!? She looked imploringly out the window at her grandmother and friends. ?The cassettes for this antique are bigger than my iPod. Where?s the hand-crack??

Bolivia didn?t pause to ask questions. ?Fits ya, doesn?t it? You look swell in there, kid. Great engine in these old Camaros, lemme show ya??

Moving around to the front of the car, he bent to open the hood. Then he struggled to open it. Neither muscular forearms nor the application of severe language budged the hood so much as a millimeter. As the lot owner fought with the disobedient sheet metal, Mac and Bloo joined up with Frankie in the Camaro, just as she found herself distracted by a glint of light on the steering wheel. Mac and Bloo soon noticed it as well, as it drew their gaze to an emblem. Covered in grime, its outlines became clearer when Frankie used a little spit and elbow grease to wipe away the grunge.

Mac frowned as he studied it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing along with his friends. ?What the heck kind of manufacturer owns that logo??

?Certainly not the familiar Chevy chevron, that?s for sure.? Frankie alleged.

Madame Foster had been studying both the car and her granddaughter long enough to come to a conclusion. Looking toward Bolivia, she uttered the magic words. ?How much??

?Well, uh, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, the timeless lineage, the custom racing stripes?five grand.?

?Oh, that?s quite a shame.? She remarked. ?We?re not going above four.?

?But, Grandma,? Frankie quickly spoke up, ?This one has potential. It?s not like any of the other slops in this lot.?

?No use arguing, kid.? Bolivia told her. ?Outta the car.?

Leaning out the open window, Frankie gazed imploringly back at the lot owner. ?But you said cars choose their drivers.?

?Yeah, well,? he responded casually, ?Sometimes they choose one with a cheap grandmother.?

Madame Foster definitely wasn?t the one to let such a bold comment from a lowly lot owner slip past her. ?Who ya callin? cheap, you no-good son of a???

She was cut off in mid-sentence as the car?s horn started blaring. No, not blaring. It was a sonic explosion.

Maybe it was the volume, maybe the timbre, maybe something about the combination, or maybe a certain something they couldn?t hear. Like a sound that was pitched too high for the human ear to detect. Whatever it was, the resulting concussion blew out the windows of every other car on the lot. Bolivia?s lower jaw headed in the direction of southern Brazil as he gaped at the vitreous devastation. His cherished, beautiful, dollar-generating lot looked as though it had just suffered through a ten-second hailstorm. Sunlight sparked and flashed from millions of glass shards.

He took a deep breath and winced, as if his heart hurt him?which wasn?t far from the truth. Turning to Madame Foster, he weakly shouted, ?Four grand!?

END OF CHAPTER TWO

This is going along great, I loved how you made frankie take the role of sam's place. In fact i was listening to the transformers score album as im reading this.

Hope to see more.

Thanks for the comments, Xroc.

I wish I had a chapter to post today to commemorate the release of the movie on DVD, but I haven't had the time to get another one done. I did, however, purchase the DVD today and plan on watching it this weekend.

Hopefully I'll have another chapter up tomorrow night.:)

Chapter Three

On the way back to the mansion in both the bus and Frankie?s new car (which Frankie decided to drive herself), news came over the bus?s radio about an attack over a military base in western Qatar without warning?no survivors. The news had been delivered by Secretary of Defense, John Keller, who added that the objective of the attack was an attempt to hack the deepest reaches of the military network, and they weren?t sure what information the attackers were after. No one had claimed responsibility?no group, no Internet site, and no country. The only lead they had was the signal that hacked the network.

Feeling as if all that was irrelevant to them, Sean Andrews shut off the radio, just as they had approached the front gate of the Foster?s mansion. As soon as everyone was inside, they didn?t hesitate to share Frankie?s new car with all of the friends in the house, going as far as bringing them out of the house to see it. For Frankie, it was a little embarrassing, because she told half of the friends in the house that she was getting a sporty new car. And for them to see an old, rusted vehicle sitting there had to have been a huge letdown.

?Just want to let everybody know that I didn?t intend on getting this.? Frankie announced. ?I was actually on my way to get one of the stylin? Porsches at the most famous car shops in town, but??

?Yeah, yeah, yeah.? A small, green, one-eyed, deep-voiced imaginary friend known as Jackie Khones was standing near the front of the car with a few other imaginary friends as he interrupted Frankie. ?Just pop the hood, would ya? I wanna check out the engine on this thing.?

The hood gave a metallic click and swung up to reveal in the fading daylight not the grease-streaked, grime-choked hunk of half-rusted iron most had expected to see but the gleam of polished chrome, serpentine coils of wire-wrapped nonstock hoses, shining cables, and a full panoply of glistening components that were quite alien to some of the Foster?s residents.

?Whoa?nice headers!? Jackie exclaimed. ?Check out the compression setup. You have a high-rise double-pump carburetor. This has the makings of a stealth street racer. Impressive.? While Jackie was voicing his admiration for the vehicle, he barely noticed that everyone had been staring at him in utter disbelief. Once he had, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, ?What??

Next to Jackie?s vast knowledge of cars, the fact that her beat-up car had such a remarkable engine with marvelous horsepower surprised the heck out of Frankie. She was starting to realize that there was more than meets the eye with her ?new? car.


Late that night, all through the mansion not a creature was stirring. Out near the front gate, the old but brightly colored Camaro suddenly came to life, its engine rumbling softly. The sound was deep enough and near enough to wake the vehicle?s owner. After blinking one and rubbing her eyes, Frankie dashed out of her room and downstairs to the foyer. She looked through the window, seeing past the front porch to notice her now-beloved new car moving away from the front gate of the mansion. Half asleep and half hysterical, she opened the front door and ran past the porch, yelling at the presumed someone in the car.

?Hey, that?s my car. Thief!?

She went to the bus, which was parked right behind the moving Camaro, and as she hopped into it, she thanked God this one time that the keys had been accidentally left in the ignition again. Immediately starting up the bus, she gave chase in time to see the Camaro heading south. Pulling her cell phone from inside the right pocket of her robe, she dialed with one hand while steering with the other. The response was gratifyingly fast.

?911 Emergency.?

?My car?s being stolen,? she yelled toward the phone. ?Get me some help!?

?Ma?am, ma?am?we?re trying to trace your call. Are you all right? Ma?am??

?Just send some cops!? She barked at the phone before sliding it, still on, back into her pocket. As she had done so, she barely even noticed that she was passing through Mac?s apartment. From Mac?s bedroom, the roaring of the two engines, both sounding very familiar to him, suddenly wakened him.

Sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes, Mac looked out the window to see the two vehicles blazed past his apartment. The sight had confused him quite a bit. It was so puzzling that he jumped out of bed, slipped out of his pajamas, and put on his regular clothes. Afterwards, he dashed out of his apartment and hopped on the new bike that his mom got for him on his recent birthday, chasing after the bus and the Camaro.

The chase led directly into the junkyard near town, as the Camaro busted the lock on the gates to it. Watching the car carefully, Frankie noticed how it entered the yard and finally slowed down, which she did as well. She parked the bus into the shadows and hopped out, following the car on foot. Disappearing briefly behind a slow-moving train, the Camaro emerged a few moments later. For the first time since the car had awakened her and pulled away from the mansion, Frankie had a good look at the front of it.

There was no one in the driver?s seat.

?Frankie!? A voice shouted from behind her, and she turned to see Mac arriving at the junkyard on his bike, which he stowed carefully out of sight once he was near her. ?What?s going on??

She could barely believe that he was even there. ?Mac! Go back home! This is a dangerous situation. Someone has hijacked my new car!? At least, she thought it had been stolen. It took an actual person to steal a vehicle, and apparently, after what she just saw, there was no carjacker involved here. But if there happened to have been one, it was crucial for Mac to get out when he still had a chance. ?Just let me handle this. If I could handle a jerk like my old boyfriend Dylan, then I can??

She stopped once she noticed the odd look on Mac?s face, as he was looking past her at something. Turning her head, she realized how much worse the situation seemed to have gotten when the car, its outline muddled by distance and darkness, appeared to change its shape and stand up.

?Oh, man.? Frankie thought aloud.

Huddled behind a crate, she and Mac looked on as the dark, now-vertical silhouette removed something from its torso. Without warning, the object emitted a light as overpowering as it was unexpected, temporarily blinding the two humans. Shielding their eyes, they tried to identify the light source. All they could tell was that it had regular, precise outlines. Some sort of symbol?

Before they could get a better look or analyze it further, it leaped upward and vanished into the night sky.

?F-F-Frankie?? Mac stammered with a look on his face that was just as bizarre as when he was high on sugar?which he thought for a moment was why he was seeing what he was seeing. ?Y-Your car?s?a-alive??

Frankie didn?t have the time to give a remark for Mac?s comment. She fumbled wildly for the cell phone. Though she aimed its built-in camera as carefully as she could, it was just too dark and her ?car? too distant and hidden for her to get a clear shot. That didn?t stop her from babbling urgently into the phone, however.

?M-My name?s Frances ?Frankie? Foster. My car?I thought it was stolen, but it?s alive. Or at least self-animated, or something, I dunno. I don?t know how, but it?s alive.?

Suddenly, there was a sound. Not in front, but behind them. There was nothing of the mechanical about it. It was a long, low growl, mean and ripe with anticipation. Hearts pounding, Frankie and Mac turned and looked behind them.

There were two of the rottweilers, and each looked big as a bear.

?Oh, man, oh, man!? Frankie cried. ?Run, Mac!?

Long chains unfurled like kite strings from the dogs? heavy leather collars. Fortunately, the chains were bolted to a wall. Fortune, however, was not a companion of Frankie and Mac?s that night. With a snap and a bang, first one restraining bolt and then its companion tore free of the aging concrete.

Frankie and Mac leaped onto a pile of crates. The ascent didn?t stop the dogs, but it did slow them down for a moment. So did the barbed wire fence Frankie and Mac scrambled over, ripping their clothes as they cleared it. The dogs tore through a nearby hole under the fence. One was close enough to snap at one of Mac?s ankles. Teeth caught his pants and not his leg, but it was enough to send him sprawling into the dirt.

?Frankie! Help!?

She nearly tripped over herself as she quickly went to save him, her cell phone flying in the process. Before she could even attempt to do anything for the eight-year-old, the Camaro reappeared, spinning doughnuts around the prone Frankie and Mac and honking furiously. It confronted the startled dogs with mass, light, and complete confusion. One tire ran right over the errant cell phone, reducing it to a handful of crushed circuitry. Whimpering now, the dogs turned tail and fled. Scrambling to their feet, Frankie and Mac desired to follow them. But the car was between them and the distant exit.

Red, blue, and white lights pierced the settling dust as the sound of wailing sirens closed on the yard. The police! Pivoting, Frankie and Mac accelerated in the direction of lights and noise, nearly running up onto the hood of an arriving cruiser. Guns drawn, what seemed in the darkness like a whole company of cops had piled out of the arriving vehicles. They held their weapons steady and ready.

And every one of them was pointed at Frankie and Mac.

?Freeze!? One sergeant commanded them. ?Hands! Up!?

Sliding slowly off the hood of the cruiser, Frankie and Mac both hastened to explain, one talking over the other. ?Not us! No! Wrong people! Her car! My car! It?s??

Turning, they pointed at the Camaro. Or rather, they found themselves pointing at the spot where the Camaro had been idling only a little while ago. It was gone, and with it their rationale. They could think of nothing to say as they were spun around and dumped facedown on the same hood they had only a moment ago embraced as a savior.

?I can?t believe I?m going to jail again!? Mac exclaimed. ?This is ridiculous, I?m only eight!?

?You wanna hear ridiculous?? Frankie uttered. ?This will be my first time?I think.?

END OF CHAPTER THREE

Bumblebee's awesome good chapter. cant wait for the rest.

Chapter Four

Frankie and Mac had their shares of crazy nights?enough to start a wacky cartoon program for kids and adults. But what they had gone through the other night was beyond crazy. And they both had a real hard time trying to convince the officers at the police station that what they were telling them was the truth and not some sugar- or drug-based delusion. Luckily, through one phone call that they made to Sean Andrews, they didn?t have to stay for much longer to convince the local authorities.

Unfortunately, Bloo, Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco just happened to have been with Sean and his sister at the time they called, and Bloo?s continuous chanting of ?Mac and Frankie got arrested!? in a singsong voice and from the top of his lungs only made matters seem worse for the two.

?Cut it out, Bloo.? Mac demanded. ?We were involved in a serious situation last night. Frankie?s car did something that no other ordinary car should ever do.?

?What? Blow a gasket?? Bloo laughed wildly over his own joke.

Frankie just rolled her eyes at him. ?Just ignore him Mac. He wouldn?t even believe us if we told him.?

?Believe what?? Wilt curiously asked.

?Nothing.? Frankie replied. ?Let?s just get back home and pretend like none of this had ever?? The familiar roar of a car engine soon interrupted her. It was at that moment when she spotted her Camaro parked near the sidewalk, only a few blocks away. ?OH, NO!!!?

?IT?S HERE!! IT?S BACK!!!? Mac yelled.

Their friends looked to each other in confusion, as both Mac and Frankie screamed. They wondered what was up with the two, even as they started running in the opposite direction of the car. Chasing after them, they barely even noticed how the Camaro had been trailing them.

?Frankie!? Sean yelled after her. ?What the heck is this all about??

?We thought maybe it was a dream! It?s not! It?s real! My car?s alive! I bought Satan?s Camaro!?

Their friends again found themselves exchanging odd looks over the bizarre behavior of Frankie and Mac. Even Eduardo had to ask, ?Have senor Mac and senorita Frankie gone muy loco?!?

?I hope not, Ed.? Alissa remarked.

How the group ended up in the parking lot under the freeway overpass they were not sure. Mac and Frankie only wished they had turned right instead of left at the last main intersection. On the other side of the lot, a familiar yellow Camaro kept pace easily, paralleling their process. Even the siblings and the imaginary friends found that very peculiar.

?Other way! Other way! Other way!? Frankie yelled, and she was so focused on the Camaro that she failed to see the police car that had parked directly in front of her. The driver?s-side door swung open sharply, and she ran right into it. She hit the ground very hard. Wincing in pain, she slowly peeled herself off the pavement.

Seeing what happened, Sean quickly went to Frankie?s aid while glaring at the driver of the cruiser. ?Hey! With all due respect, officer, why don?t you watch how you open your doors??

?No. It?s okay. It?s okay. I?m fine.? Frankie told him, as she stumbled around to the front of the cruiser. ?Officer, you?re not gonna believe this, but my car?s trying to kill me and my friends.? The vague shape seated behind the wheel did not move, did not respond. Frankie squinted, her perception slightly blurred by the lights revolving steadily atop the cruiser?s roof. ?Are you listening to me? Hello?!? She slammed her fists down on the hood.

The police car responded by jerking forward and knocking her backward. Mac, the siblings, and the imaginary friends all looked on in shock, not expecting such a fierce reaction from a police officer. Sitting on the ground, the car looming over her, it struck her that she might have acted a tad rashly.

?Sorry,? she began, genuinely scared, ?no disrespect inten??

Before she could finish, the headlight covers swung open and the glaring bare bulbs telescoped outward, halting only inches from her face. Seconds later they rose skyward as the rest of the car transformed into a sixteen-foot-tall bipedal loosely humanoid robot. Enormous metal fingers reached downward.

?IT?S ANOTHER ONE!!!? Frankie screamed, scrambling backward. She somehow skidded just out of their reach as the blunt tips slammed into the asphalt. Pavement cracked, spider-webbing in all directions away from the metal fingertips. On her feet now, Frankie was running like heck, while her friends just looked on in shock. When she looked back over a shoulder, she saw that the thing was coming after just her.

Swinging around and down in a broad, swift arc, the gigantic hand struck her square in the back and lifted her right off the ground, sending her flying into the windshield of a parked car, glass cracking underneath her. Badly bruised, Frankie turned on the hood as the robot stomped toward her. The mechanism that had taken the name of Barricade leaned over her. Massive metal fists smashed into the car on either side of Frankie, smashing fenders and support steel, splintering plastics and shattering glass.

Then Frankie heard a voice. Though the words that reverberated in her ears were perfectly lucid and understandable, they contained not a shred of humanity. ?ARE YOU FRANCES ?FRANKIE? FOSTER??

?What? I?yeah.?

?WHERE ARE YOUR ANCESTRAL ARTIFACTS?!?

?I?I?I?I have n-no idea what you?re ta-ta-talking ab-about?? she managed to stammer.

At that moment, three hard objects struck the ?face? of the robot, and it directly its attention in the direction that the objects came, seeing Frankie?s friends doing what they could to buy her enough time to escape from the mechanical menace. It worked.

Frankie leaped onto the roof of the badly damaged car. Sliding down the rear window and off the lid of the trunk, she hit the ground running along with her friends. Emitting a metallic snarl, the Decepticon reached down with one hand and flung the car aside as it started after its fleeing quarry.

?Frankie! What the heck is that thing?!? Sean asked.

?I?ll let you know once we?re away from it!? She responded.

Out of the eight of them, it was Eduardo who seemed to have screaming the loudest, crying out words in Spanish that only he himself could understand. Meanwhile, Bloo was enjoying every minute of this wild and unusual chase. ?OH, MAN! THIS IS THE MOST AWESOME AFTERNOON EVER!!!!?

Just then, another machine roared into view: the Camaro. They all stopped in their tracks, as it did a forty-mile-per-hour power slide and smashed sideways into the oncoming metal behemoth, knocking it into a skid across the asphalt. Both passenger doors swung open as the song ?Rescue Me? blared from the car?s speakers. Adding emphasis to the music?s message, the car?s horn began honking.

Across the pavement, the enormous robot was rising to its feet. After everything that had happened that afternoon, Frankie?s decision was not an easy one to make, but she felt she had no choice but to worry about it later. If there was a ?later.?

?EVERYBODY IN THE CAR!!? She yelled.

?Is there enough room for all of us in there?? Wilt wondered aloud.

?JUST GET IN!!!!!!!!? Frankie screamed, her voice squeaking at a very high pitch.

Entering from opposite sides, they dove into the front and back seats. As soon as they were in, the doors slammed behind them and the Camaro burned rubber peeling out. Falling behind, Barricade swiftly transformed back into its police cruiser persona and gave chase.

END OF CHAPTER FOUR

Nice story! It's looking good so far.

Thanks.:) I have another chapter coming up in a little bit.

Chapter Five

The chase lasted for what seemed like hours, and soon it was nightfall. As it led into a construction site area, both vehicles swerved, missing each other by millimeters. It was difficult to say which was louder: the squeal of sliding tires or the screams of the Camaro?s terrified (or thrilled, in Bloo?s case) occupants. Screams gave way to grunts as doors opened and they found themselves ejected.

?Hey! What?s the deal, yo?? Bloo asked the Camaro, seeming very upset at it. ?I was just startin? to enjoy the ride!?

They scrambled to stand up and would have run in any direction?except that they found themselves mesmerized by the sight that was unfolding immediately in front of them.

Emitting muted grinding and squealing noises, the Camaro was morphing right in front of their eyes. No changing in the shadows now. The robotic shape that emerged from the bulk that had been the Camaro was still the same light-blindingly bright yellow. It even sported, albeit in a radically different configuration, the black racing stripes that had originally caught Frankie?s attention.

The robot charged at the simultaneously transforming Barricade. Unfortunately for the friends of Foster?s, they happened to be standing directly between the two clashing machines. As the robots slammed into each other, a section of the previous police cruiser?s chest popped opened to reveal an inner compartment, which was not empty.

Springing out and away from the main combat, the spidery form of Frenzy clutched at the clothes of Frankie and Mac and spun them around. Frankie?s transformed Camaro interceded immediately to protect them, knocking Frenzy aside while taking the brunt of Barricade?s charge, which sent the yellow robot tumbling backward. Rolling onto its feet, it charged straight at the transformed cruiser. As Barricade was knocked askew, one of its massive metal legs swung around parallel to the ground, swooshing through the air just over the ducking humans? and imaginary friends? heads. The group rolled and scrambled to put distance between themselves and the battling machines.

At least, seven of them did. Something was holding Mac back, preventing him from fleeing. Looking around, he found himself eye-to-lens with a mechanical nightmare that had secured a firm grip on his pants and was pulling him close to its insect-like jaws.

?HE?S GOT ME! I?M GONNA DIE!!!?

?MAC!!? Bloo cried, seeing the danger that his friend and creator was in, immediately going into panic mode.

Mac?s frenzied, rapid kicks glanced off the indifferent mechanical monster. All that kicking did, however, allow him to wiggle out of his pants. Freed, he managed to get to his feet. In shoes, socks, and boxers, he turned to run after his companions. Unfazed, the mechanoid promptly leaped onto his backpack, which he quickly removed and let it fall behind with his pants. But Frenzy was quick to jump off that and on Mac?s back and head.

?HEY!?

Staggering under the weight of the clinging robot, Mac did not have time to wonder where Bloo had found a power saw. Looking past him, he saw an open chest from which a dozen other tools protruded like metal flowers. Bloo came forward, holding the howling saw out in front of him. ?Leave my boy alone, you foul alien machine!?

Responding to the more dangerous threat, Frenzy let go of Mac and leaped at Bloo, who swung the saw wildly. There was a brief but very loud grinding noise. One of the robot?s arms went flying. Having picked up a loose length of rebar, Frankie charged the machine from behind and began battering wildly at the robot?s head. A couple more hacking swings and it lay on the ground, severed from the main body and twitching spastically.

Meanwhile, Bloo was still swinging the saw wildly, near catching the legs of a few friends in process. Mac shouted in reaction to this, ?Bloo! Stop! The thing?s dead!? However, Bloo wasn?t listening?he was having too much fun with the power saw. With no other choice, Frankie slightly clubbed the rebar over Bloo?s head, knocking both him and the saw out in the process.

?And to think, we?re fighting for our lives from something more dangerous than this idiot.? She uttered.

Well behind them now, Barricade had transformed back into a police cruiser, burning rubber and charging. The Camaro-turned-robot waited, waited?and then stepped aside. At the same time it undercut a nearby crane. Hanging from the crane?s arm was a solid steel wrecking ball. The wrecking sphere smashed square into the roof of the charging cruiser, stopping the vehicle cold. Flashing police lights and their protective plastic splintered and went flying in all directions.

With the metal-on-metal combat stopped, the group from Foster?s turned and walked towards the standing figure of Frankie?s transformed car. It reached down to pick something out of the dirt and, extending a limb, offered Mac?s pants back to him.

?Uh, thanks.? Awed by the machine standing silently only feet away, Mac hurriedly struggled back into his pants. Next to him, the stares of the Andrews siblings, Frankie, and the imaginary friends were no less rapt as they gazed up at the mechanoid.

?My god. What is it?? Sean asked.

Frankie had already come to a decision. Maybe it wasn?t founded on solid science, but it was good enough for her. ?Looks like a robot. Moves like a robot. If it could talk, I have a feeling it would talk like a robot. So I think it?s a robot.?

?Well, duh!? Bloo exclaimed. ?I could?ve told you that hours ago, Frankie! It?s a superadvanced robot. Probably Japanese.?

Despite the fact that it saved their lives, Eduardo was still extremely frightened of the yellow robot. ?Why won?t it just leave us alone??

?It probably wants something from us, Ed.? Frankie said, full of wonderment, taking a couple of steps toward the hulking machine.

?Frankie, what are you doing?? Mac asked. ?This thing didn?t come out of a cereal box!?

Gleaming yellow, the robot responded by taking a step toward the approaching Frankie. The head inclined downward in her direction. She found herself smiling and wrong from the get-go. ?I don?t think it?s gonna hurt us, guys.?

As they stared at the robot, they failed to notice the lights that sprang to life within what for the past several moments had been a dark, inert skull. Sprouting tiny centipede-like legs, the decapitated head rose up slightly to take stock of its surroundings. Its attention fixed on an object that had been dumped in the dirt: Alissa Andrews?s purse. Skittering over to it, Frenzy?s head began to transcan the contents. Lipstick, useless. Glasses, no good. Pen, insufficiently complex.

Sidekick. Limited storage capability, small and decidedly primitive, but sufficiently adaptable. As soon as it completed the transcan, Frenzy kicked the actual device into a pile of rubble and out of sight. Transformation ensued. The result was that it became an exact duplicate of the now-banished device. Unseen, it worked its way into the open purse, withdrew its legs and went dormant.

Frankie and robot stared at each other. ?I think?I think it wants something from me.? Her attention focused on the dark lenses that seemed to stare back into her own eyes. ?I?m not sure what. The other one kept asking something about ancestral artifacts.?

?Ancestral artifacts?? Wilt remarked, slightly confused. ?You mean like those old glasses that Madame Foster said once belonged to her great-great-grandmother??

?I guess so.? Cocking her head to one side, Frankie studied the robot?s head. ?Can you?talk? Communicate? In words we could understand??

Coco attempted something that she believed would help. ?Coco. Coco. Coco. Coco. Cococococo! Coco. Coco, Coco. Coco, Coco, Coco. Cooooco!?

The robot had done the same thing that the others had and just stared at her blankly, not understanding a word she said. Coco shrugged her shoulders, figuring it was worth a try, while the voice of an unknown D.J. poured forth from within the machine.

?I think it talks through the stereo.? Mac assumed. ?Or at least, it can channel commercial broadcasts and try to filter content to convey what it means.? In response, applause echoed from the robot. Nothing to lose by trying to get some more information, Frankie decided. ?What were you doing out last night? My buddy, Mac, and I followed you and saw you send something up into the sky.?

The sound of a radio evangelist?s sermon filled the air. ?And a mighty voice will send a message, summoning forth visitors from Heaven!?

?HE?S AN ALIEN!? Bloo screamed excitedly. ?AWESOME!!?

The machine nodded and emitted a brief electronic squeak. As they stepped back and looked on, it shrank, shifted, transformed. Moments later, sitting before them once more was a by-now-familiar yellow Camaro. The doors swung wide and the horn beeped insistently.

?I think it wants us to get in.? Mac guessed.

?SHOTGUN!!? Bloo yelled, as he slipped in behind the wheel. It wasn?t long before Frankie got in and bumped him off the driver?s chair, taking position as driver there. Or at least she thought. Carefully, she took the wheel in both hands. It remained steady and unmoving beneath her fingers.

?I think I could get used to this.?

END OF CHAPTER FIVE

Great chapter!!

The story is getting intense!

Chapter Six

Once back on a busy city street, the Camaro slowed to comply with the prevailing speed limit. Tentatively leaning forward, Sean Andrews let one hand slide back and forth over the dash in front of him. Stained and sun-bleached, it felt exactly like dried-out old car upholstery.

?Wait a sec. If this car can reshape itself, why?d he pick such a piece of crap? I mean, he could be anything, right? So why this? Why not a Hummer, or a Ferrari??

Brakes squealing, the car skidded to an abrupt halt. Both doors swung open, the car tilted sharply from side to side, and its occupants found themselves dumped onto the pavement. Alissa Andrews rose, started to brush at her clothes, and stopped when she realized the futileness of the gesture.

?Aww.? Alissa said. ?You hurt his feelings, Sean.?

?Liss, it?s a robot. It doesn?t have feelings.? Sean remarked. ?What?s it doing now??

As they looked on, the car?s windshield morphed into a screen. Imaging beams scanned the street, bouncing from car to car, traveling farther than either of the occupants could see. They settled on a brand-new, fully customized Camaro GTO. Simple scanning beams were replaced by more complex transcanner waves. A moment later and the Camaro was transforming again, reshaping itself before the very eyes of its occupants. When the process finally concluded, it was a different vehicle that stood before them. An exact duplicate of the distant GTO, except for one difference. It was the same bright yellow as before and sported identical black racing stripes.

Frankie?s expression did a little transforming of its own, changing from one to awe to outright admiration. She took a step toward the freshly morphed vehicle, admiring it openly. ?Now this is a car.? She couldn?t repress a huge grin. Life had never been better. Walking back to the driver?s side, admiring every glimmer of light bouncing off the blemish- and ding-free bright yellow paint job, Frankie slid in behind a shining custom steering wheel. ?I?m not sure about the final destination, but I think I?ve found my adventure.?


The completely done-over Camaro finally pulled to a stop at a pullout on the highest road near town. Doors opened and the passengers climbed out. They expected the car?s edifying radio to offer up a suggestive song, or at least an informative one. But the speakers stayed silent. The car stood up on two transformed legs.

Head tilted back, Wilt was staring up at the night sky. ?Uh, Frankie???

Frankie and everyone else looked upward. Blobs and streaks of light were illuminating the clouds from within. There was no thunder, so they could not be caused by lightning, which meant they had to be caused by?something else. As everyone looked on, what appeared to be a small comet struck the atmosphere sharply, shattering?separating into five pieces. But comets did not separate when they struck atmosphere.

One segment of whatever it was slammed into the hillside atop which they had parked, barely a couple of fields away. Trees snapped, brush ignited, and dirt and rock flew in all directions as the piece of sky ground to a halt. The force of the impact shook the ground beneath their feet. Other pieces of the mysterious falling object were drawing attention elsewhere.

Frankie?s transformed Camaro began leading the way, as they all followed a trail of flaming brush and vitreous scree down the hill until they came to a ditch where one of the falling stars had landed. When they finally reached the site, nothing concealed the still-smoking object from their view.

?You know, maybe we should be walking fast in the other direction.? Sean suggested, as Eduardo nervously nodded in agreement with him.

?Sí.?

Pushing aside the few branches that had not been snapped off or stomped flat by the yellow-and-black robot breaking trail in front of them, a thoughtful Frankie disagreed. ?I think if there was any danger, he would have stopped us from coming with him.?

They had finally reached the source. Embedded in the earth at the bottom of the ravine and directly in front of them, a complex knot of streaming metal dripped white-hot silvery beads. Standing yards away, they could feel the heat coming off the object. As they looked on, the globs of liquid metal retraced their path, blending back into and being absorbed by the globe much as a ball of pure mercury would soak up smaller spheres. When the glistening orb began to crack open like a giant metal egg, the earthlings stepped back behind the yellow robot they now thought of as a friend and protector.

From within the sphere a metallic leg emerged. It was followed by a second, then a pair of arms. A silhouette began to rise, higher and higher against the still-flaming, crackling scrub, until it was nearly thirty feet tall. Unmoved by the sight, their own mechanical companion stood nearby, as if waiting for something more. Despite what she had told Sean earlier, Frankie began to wonder if maybe they ought to start looking for some bigger trees. Just in case they had to take shelter behind something other than her transformed car.

The immense shape that had emerged from the silvery egg started to turn toward them. Its attention was drawn away from the earthlings by a blast from an eighteen-wheeler barreling down the road above the ravine. Turning in the direction of the sound, the newly arrived alien mechanoid transcanned the big truck as it slowed to take a sharp curve. By the time the night-running transport had sped on past, a second, identical truck was facing the group from the depths of the ravine.

The ?truck?s? engine growled. It sounded just like a Detroit diesel, only with something added. It was diesel-plus. Diesel transformed. Angry diesel.

Ascending from the ravine, the eighteen-wheeler rumbled across the road and halted less than a foot from the group. Its grille alone was considerably bigger than they were (even Wilt). Any one of them could have reached out and touched it. But neither of them hadn?t because right there, directly in front of them, it transformed a second time.

Wondering what came next, their attention was drawn down the road in the direction of town. They were soon joined by as peculiar and unrelated a trio of vehicles as one could expect to find gathered together in the same place. There was a beautiful sports car, an emergency vehicle, and the baddest-looking pickup truck anyone had ever seen. The three new arrivals soon simultaneously transformed into upright robotic shapes.

?Oh, man! I hope this is some kind of invasion plot! That?d be awesome!!? Bloo exclaimed.

Eduardo couldn?t help but to cry out in fear. ?Oh, no! Me no want big, scary robots to take over Earth! Me have so many things to do, like watch the new episode of Loren is Explorin?!?

The head of the largest robot there lowered farther toward them. Since it was a good deal bigger than all of them put together, they started to freak out a little?Eduardo more than the rest. The voice that emerged from the massive head was carefully muted, designed to reassure and not frighten.

?Do not fear. Freedom from fear and all else is the right of all sentient beings. We will never harm humans.? The immense machine straightened, looming high above them. ?Frances ?Frankie? Foster? Biological descendant of Samantha Foster, greatest explorer of the nineteenth century??

?Y-Yeah.? She affirmed.

?I am Optimus Prime,? the robot announced.

END OF CHAPTER SIX

Chapter Seven

?That?s got to be the lamest name I?ve ever heard for the coolest robot I?ve ever seen.? Bloo commented.

Frankie frowned at him for a moment, before turning her attention back to Optimus Prime. ?Ignore him. It?s a pleasure?I guess.?

?So how?re you guys speaking perfect English?? Mac inquired.

?We have assimilated Earth?s languages through your planetary information assembly. Your ?World Wide Web,? as it is called.?

Sean was shaking his head slowly in wonderment. ?You are aliens. Uh, are you ?biological? creatures, too??

?No,? the robot informed him quietly. ?We are independently cognitive mechanical entities from a very distant world?a suitably simple comprehensible identifier for you might be Cybertron. Similarly, you could also think of us as autonomous robotic organisms.?

Mac was murmuring to himself. ?Autonomous robots?Autobots.?

Enormous lenses focused on him. ?Just as there are no apposite translations for where we originate or what we are, there are none for our individual nomenclatures.?

Bloo was absolutely lost in the dark. ?Come again??

?He means their names.? Mac told him.

An immense arm indicated the semicircle of other machines. ?For convenience in communication we have selected namings from your vocabulary to approximate a combination of our localized camouflaged shapes as well as our particular temperaments. Though by your definition we are no more than ?machines,? we do possess individual characteristics and personalities as well as abilities and skills. For example?? The arm lowered to center on the robot that had morphed from an exotic sports car. ?My first lieutenant: Jazz.?

The car?s high-powered speakers responded agreeably. ?What up, peeps!?

Optimus Prime indicated the thickset bipedal form that had transformed from the black pickup. ?Our weapons specialist: Ironhide.?

The robot peered down at his gleaming black shape. ?This exoskeleton appears suitable for battle.?

Finally, Optimus Prime singled out the mechanoid that had morphed from an emergency vehicle. ?Our medical officer: Ratchet.?

The robot thus identified looked down upon the earthlings. ?I am pleased to report that, by your species? customary but inadequate standards, you each are in an excellent state of health.?

The great mechanical arm of Optimus Prime gestured one last time at the imposing semicircle of machines, singling out a by-now-familiar yellow-and-black shape. ?You already know Bumblebee, guardian of Frances Foster.?

Frankie frowned. ?Bumblebee? Guardian??

?If the rest of you can talk, why can?t he?? Wilt asked.

It was the medical mechanoid who replied. ?His vocal-processing symbology was destroyed on the battlefields of Tyger Pax. Despite our best efforts, we have not been able to restore it.?

Frankie nodded before asking, ?Why are you here? Out of all the planets in our solar system, why come to our world??

Optimus Prime?s voice grew solemn. ?We have come in search of what I will categorize for you as the Energon Cube. This unimaginably ancient entity is the container of a supreme power that imbues us with the gift of?for you I will call it simply ?spark?. This designation is an oversimplification an order of magnitude and significance far beyond your ability to comprehend. We are here in search of it, because we must find the Cube before Megatron.?

?Who?or what?is a Megatron?? Sean asked.

?We were once brothers, in the sense that you understand the term. But Megatron lost his way. It was no longer enough for him to control himself. He became obsessed with the idea of controlling everything. He turned those he could dominate against those he could not. Instead of builders, they became destroyers. For their betrayal of everything that our kind had always stood for, those who turned now bear the name Decepticons.?

From his eyes a three-dimensional image appeared in the clear night air: a view of an incredible battle taking place on an alien world composed of metal and other non-organic compounds. As the view shifted, the earthlings were exposed to scenes of flaming craters, destruction on an unimaginable scale, mile upon mile of total devastation. The surface was littered with limbs and heads and other pieces of lifeless machines. And everywhere there was fire, and smoke, and death. The sight was enough to terrify Eduardo, leaving Alissa to calm him down with a gentle rub over his furry back.

The view shifted again to show a ship descending. Its physical appearance was like nothing the group from Foster?s had ever seen. In the process of touching down, it transformed. Though seen only from behind, the immense outline managed to convey an aura of overpowering menace. Standing over a crippled Autobot, it reached down and plunged a fist into the other?s metal chest. Steely fingers yanked back out a handful of flickering energy. The pulse of energy rapidly faded to nothingness, as did the light in the lenses of the robot lay dying on the ground.

?For eons,? Optimus continued, ?our world was locked in the stalemate that resulted from Megatron?s actions. The endless combat all but exhausted our resources and nearly extinguished our kind. Those few who survived finally decided the only way to put an end to it was to flee.? A deafening bellow emerged from the figure identified as Megatron as the final image faded.

Ironhide supplied further enlightenment. ?Only the Cube can reanimate our face, allowing us to repopulate our world. That is why Megatron desires it. He will at last obtain the power he has always sought over the future of our kind.?

Once more, Optimus Prime took up the account. ?In the course of eons of fighting, the Cube was flung out into space. I and my companions as well as Megatron and his ilk have been searching for it ever since. We have finally succeeded in tracing its present position to your planet.? The group from Foster?s exchanged a look as the mechanoid continued. ?When it crashed here it transmitted a signal that took long to reach our world. Megatron was the first to follow it here, pursuing it immediately after it was cast out of Cybertron. His arrival was imperfect and on a part of your world suitable for delaying him. He succumbed to ever-shifting ice.?

Frankie?s eyes widened with recognition?her dream?it was true.

?Unfortunately, Samantha Foster?s discovery and subsequent physical encounter triggered a tiny part of Megatron?s hitherto dormant internal configuration.? Ratchet stated. ?The resultant luminal reaction left a coded physical imprint on her portable prosthetic lenses.?

?Her glasses? The map to this Cube is imprinted on her glasses?? Frankie remarked.

?The Cube still resides on your world,? Jazz said. ?But we can no longer detect its signal. It has been?blocked by something.?

?If we find it, we will return it to our homeworld.? Ratchet mentioned.

?If the Decepticons reach it first,? Optimus added, ?they will use it to rebuild their armies. They will begin this process by transforming Earth?s machines. Once that is accomplished, there will of course no longer be any reason or need for your world to continue to provide support and sustenance to irrelevant carbonoids. Megatron will see to it that these wasteful life-forms are extinguished.?

?Excuse me?? Frankie murmured uncertainly.

?Plants. Animals. You.?

A significant silence ensued. It was only broken when Mac eventually looked over to Frankie.

?Please tell me you have those glasses??

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN

Frankie better have those glasses.:frankiesmile:

Chapter Eight

It was a singular collection of brand-new vehicles that raced through the network of residential avenues late that night before halting just up the street from the Foster?s mansion. They barked to a stop at the front gate, and the Foster?s residents exited the shiny new Camaro and sports car.

?Stay with ?em,? Frankie told her friends. ?I?ll be right back.? She took a step toward the house, was restrained by a thought, and turned toward the idling convoy. Looking past her friends, she addressed the vehicles with as much sternness as she could muster. ?Stay. Stay here. Stay.?

Making next to no noise she crept toward the front door of the mansion. She was convinced she had not made a sound, but that didn?t stop the giant rabbit that served as president of the house from appearing magically in the portal.

Doing everything she could to keep both herself and Mr. Herriman from glancing towards the front gate, Frankie smiled pleasantly and looked Herriman straight in the eyes. ?Uh?hey there, Mr. H!?

?Miss Frances, do you realize what hour of the day it is?? Herriman asked.

A slight crunching sound drew Frankie?s attention leftward, toward a dark part of the spacious backyard. One after another, huge alien robots were stepping over the steel fence surrounding the mansion and onto the grass. From where she was standing, Frankie could see them but Mr. Herriman couldn?t. This, she knew straightaway, was a good thing. She uttered a nervous laugh.

?Right?sure thing, Mr. H?I?ll be sure to get to those chores right away.?

?Miss Frances, I meant nothing of the sort about your chores. But now that the matter has been brought up, I must say that your absence from this house all day has lead many friends having to pitch in to take care of what you have failed to mend to.? Herriman sternly said. ?Now, if you shall pardon me, I must take out the trash cans.? He started to open the door and come down the steps. Frankie hurriedly banged it shut in time to block the rabbit?s exit.

?No, no, I got it! Seriously, my bad.?

Mr. Herriman studied her a moment longer. Then he turned and, shaking his head dolefully, hopped back further into the house. Frankie whirled and raced toward front yard. She was just in time to see the massive right foot of Optimus Prime turn some furniture into Frisbees While the other reduced a stone path into gravel.

?Will you guys watch where you?re going?!?!? Frankie yelled frantically, right before her friends came striding through the alleyway gate. Turning on them, she indicated the yard full of giant robots. ?I told you guys to watch ?em!?

?Well, you know, I don?t think patience is something they have on their planet.? Sean bantered.

Frankie put her hand over her forehead in exasperation. ?Man! This evening could not get any??

?HEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY, EVERYBODIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!? A voice came from near the front gate, which was soon followed by constant, irritating chanting.

?Horsey! Horsey! Horsey! Horsey!? A pale-yellow, somewhat madcap and dim-witted imaginary friend named Cheese was bouncing up and down on one of Ironhide?s feet as if it was a horse. Peering down, the mechanoid flicked the friend off his foot, sending him flying into a patch of flowers. ?DO AGAIN! DO AGAIN! DO AGAIN! DO AGAIN!?

Seeing Cheese and his companion, an extremely hyperactive friend of Mac?s who talks very fast and named Goo, Frankie felt as if she was just about to have another nervous breakdown. ?Oh, no.?

?Do you guys, like, have some new imaginary friends that are too big for the house? ?Cause they don?t look like imaginary friends. They look like big aliens from another world. And that?s cool, because it?s not every day when you, like, get visitors from another world. I remember watching E.T. one time and wishing that I could meet a real alien, only I imagined a friend that looked just like E.T. and ended up having to hide him from my mom, just like in the movie with that Elliott kid and his brother and his sister and his??

Meanwhile, Ironhide was tracking the unceasingly irritating Cheese who continued to dart in and out between his feet. ?I detect that you have a highly localized vermin infestation. Shall I terminate??

?No!? Frankie yelped wildly. ?It?s just Cheese, a friend of ours. A really annoying friend, but a friend nonetheless.? Moving Cheese away from the feet of Ironhide, Frankie then approached her friends, looking sterner than ever. ?Try to keep them composed, while I find those stupid glasses!?

After handing Cheese over to Wilt to watch over, Frankie dashed into the house through the backdoor and hurried silently up the stairs to her grandmother?s room. Anxiously she rummaged through the cluttered room. Behind her, an immense metal hand rose to the level of the open window. Unceremoniously, it dumped Mac, Goo, the Andrews siblings, and the imaginary friends through the portal and onto the floor of the room.

?You must help her look,? Optimus informed them solemnly.

?They really want those glasses.? Mac uttered.

Searching for a few minutes, Frankie?s expression darkened. She had cleared the entire room, but without finding what she had been looking for. ?It?s not here!?

Her friends stared at her. ?What?!?

?They?re just not here!? Frankie screamed. ?But it?s got to be here somewhere. Grandma just doesn?t let a family artifact like that slip away without noticing.?

?Let?s trash the room! Turn it upside down ?til we get what we?re looking for!!!? Bloo exclaimed.

Frankie shot him a dirty look before noticing the enormous, reflective face of Optimus Prime staring back at her. ?Have you found them?? the robot inquired worriedly. Even muted, the robot?s voice threatened to resound throughout the length and breadth of the house.

?No, I haven?t. I dunno where my grandma put them!? Frankie complained. ?Look, will you just?get outta here? If anybody in this house sees you, especially Mr. Herriman, they?re gonna freak. Go! Hide! I promise we?ll keep looking.?

Optimus turned to his companions. ?Autobots: fall back and cloak.?

?And be quiet,? Frankie ordered. ?Keep it down.?

One by one the visitors retreated into a copse of trees. All did so successfully?and, as Frankie had requested, quietly?until the preoccupied Ratchet backed into a line of wires. The top of his head brushed against a high-voltage line. Flaring in the darkness, sparks arced across his skull.

An involuntary electronic scream erupted from deep within the robot. Convulsing, he toppled over sideways, shattering a small glass greenhouse when he fell. Unsurprisingly, this concentrated calamity did not go entirely unnoticed inside the Foster?s mansion. As the house shook, Mr. Herriman was already rushing out of his office and screaming throughout the house.

?Earthquake! Earthquake! Evacuate immediately! Single file! Single file!?

The other friends piled out of their rooms just to watch Mr. Herriman loose his cool over a tremor. Some had gone back to see what happened outside through their windows and noticed a few things knocked over?possibly some of the neighborhood dogs.

Out back Ratchet sat up, shook his head, and gestured upward. ?Do not touch those! They carry throughout their length the potential for dangerous energy overload.?

Thirty seconds later the transformer mounted on the pole nearest the length of heavy-gauge transmission line Ratchet had inadvertently contacted blew up in a shower of sparks and seared metal. Every house in the immediate vicinity promptly went dark.

In the now-dark upper-floor room, Frankie spun a wild circle, then raced toward the only source of light: the window. The first thing she noticed was the complete absence of light in any other house visible from the room. The second was the complete absence of visiting alien robots in her backyard. In their place was a small fleet of vehicles?including a giant and thoroughly inappropriate-for-the-location eighteen-wheeler. Leading out, she yelled downward.

?What is it with you guys? Semitrucks parked in the backyard is not hiding.? She turned back to her grandmother?s room, still having to find the precious glasses. And if stress of the parked vehicles in the backyard wasn?t enough, Cheese began screaming over the lack of lighting in the room. ?Oh, please! No! Not now!?

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter Nine

Downstairs, the screaming from above was clearly audible as Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman both switched on flashlights. Immediately, Herriman?s gaze and attention turned upward. ?Miss Frances? What is happening up there??

There was no response from above. Herriman and Madame Foster exchanged troubled looks. On the way toward the stairs, Madame Foster spied a baseball bat that she picked up and gripped it with both hands, while trailing Herriman as he started cautiously up the stairs.

A pair of brilliant beams of light illuminated the interior of Madame Foster?s room like an atomic flash. It was just the thing to stop Cheese from screaming any longer. Blinking painfully, Frankie tried to turn in the direction of the lights being emitted by the eyes of a helpful Optimus Prime.

?TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!?

Slowly making their way up the stairs, Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster heard Frankie?s frantic voice at the same time as they saw the incredibly intense light flare from underneath the door to the room.

?Miss Frances?? Mr. Herriman asked as he leaned close to the door and gripped the flashlight a little more tightly. ?Are you there??

?Uh, yeah, Mr. H,? she responded, as calmly as she could. ?It?s me.? Whirling on the beam-casting Optimus, she hissed anxiously, ?Turn it off!? The robot?s eyes obediently went dark. ?Now hide!?

Herriman tried the knob. It didn?t turn. ?Why is this door locked?? Flustered, he tried the knob again. Definitely locked from the inside. ?Miss Frances, open the door!?

?Be right with you!? she replied, even as she was bugging her eyes out at the now-eye-dark-but-still-staring Optimus Prime. ?Get outta here!?

The robot replied with single-minded insistence. ?But you must find the glasses.?

?Open this door now.? Herriman?s voice had gone from concerned to curious to borderline angry.

Something fumbled at the knob from the inside. There was a soft click. The door opened inward to reveal Frankie and friends retreating to stand by the single window, holding up arms to shield their eyes against the wandering beam of Herriman and Madame Foster?s flashlights.

?Hi, Mr. H. Hey, Grandma.? Frankie declared cheerily. ?What up!?

?What are you all doing in here?? Madame Foster inquired.

Frankie and the others just exchanged glances that seemed too suspicious for Herriman?s taste. Mac then replied, ?Just?hanging out?together.?

?What was that light?? Herriman asked, as he hopped into the room, heading for the window. Desperately trying not to look nervous, Frankie blocked his path.

?Light? What light? Wasn?t any light. Oh, you mean the flashlight light. That?s gone, isn?t it? Right, guys.? Her friends nodded in agreement, as Herriman leaned out the window to scan the backyard.

Lights were still out in the neighbors? houses, sparks still sputtered from the ruined transformer, and dogs were starting to bark everywhere. Herriman did not look directly downward or he might have seen several enormous bipedal metallic shapes pressing tightly against the side of the house.

It wasn?t long before the lights in the room flickered, then snapped back on. The power company, Frankie speculated, must have done a work-around on the destroyed transformer. ?See? Problem solved. No worries.? She stated before focusing on her current task. ?Uh, Grandma? You know those glasses that belonged to your grandmother that you often show me at times??

?Oh, yes, dearie.? Madame Foster remarked, as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the ancient artifact. ?Would you like for me to tell that lovely story again of how your grandmother??

Quickly snatching the glasses out from her grandmother?s hands, Frankie rushed past her and Herriman, with her friends following close behind. ?Sorry, Grandma! Don?t have the time! See ya!?

Tearing down the stairs, the group suddenly stopped as soon as they heard the front doorbell ring incessantly. Once he was downstairs again, Herriman moved to answer the door. The front yard was full of men and women. Some wore dark suits and busied themselves using strange instruments to scan their immediate surroundings. Others carried even more peculiar devices whose readouts occupied their full attention.

Standing by himself on the porch and facing Herriman was a tall, skinny, eroded-looking individual who bore an air of seriousness around him. Briefly, he flashed an impressively garish badge embossed with an insignia Herriman did not recognize and was not given time to study at length. ?Excuse me, sir. Name?s Simmons. With the government. Sector Seven.?

?Never heard of it.? Herriman responded.

?You still haven?t,? the agent informed him meaningfully.

Leaning forward, Herriman looked out as the bevy of disparately clad strangers paced and tromped and peered with great intensity of purpose all over the lawn and flowerbeds. ?What is the meaning of this??

?Frances Foster filed a stolen car report last night. We think it?s involved in a national security matter.?

?We got massive hits,? one agent called toward the porch, indicating the distinctive instrument he was wielding. Simmons looked back at him, nodding as if the observation was no more than he had expected.

?Get a sample and readings.?

The agent and a companion began ripping roses out of the ground, just as Madame Foster was coming downstairs with the bat still in her hands. ?Hey, you! Outta my garden! Get!?

?Ma?am, please,? Simmons said courteously but firmly. ?Drop the bat.?

Frankie and her friends soon entered the room, and Frankie shoved the glasses deeper into her jacket pocket as soon as she saw the agents. The alert Simmons noticed the gesture, but saw only Frankie?s moving hand.

?You. Frances Foster. We need you to come with us.?

Stepping back into the house, Mr. Herriman blocked the agent?s view of Frankie. ?I do not know who you are or what is going on here, but ?national security? or not, this is way out of line, dear sir.?

Simmons stepped into the house. ?Sir, I?m asking you respectfully, please back off.?

?You are not taking Miss Frances anywhere. There is something unusual about this ?Sector Seven? and I plan on getting to the bottom of it by calling the police.?

?Well, sir,? Simmons informed him, ?there?s something unusual about you, these people, this little house of Muppet rejects, and this whole operation in here?and my job is to get to the bottom of it myself.? Reaching into a pocket, Simmons withdrew a small cylindrical device. Leaning over, he passed it across the face of Cheese.

?Hi, Lady!? He told Simmons.

Ignoring the unusual greeting, Simmons turned to his fellow agents. ?Fourteen on the counter. Bingo. Tag and bag ?em.?

Straightening, he turned and gestured. From out of nowhere, agents seemed to pour into the room from every direction. Strong hands came down on everyone. Wrestled, manhandled, and hustled, they were all shoved roughly out of the house into the front yard, out onto the street, and into a waiting black SUV.

Struggling, Madame Foster yelled, ?We won?t say a word till we get a good lawyer! Ya hear? NOT A WORD!?

One by one the line of cars and SUVs pulled smoothly out into the street, accelerating in the direction of the nearest freeway on-ramp. As the last sped off, the neighborhood descended once more into the calm of late-night silence. From behind the mansion and among a cluster of trees, five pairs of deeply perceptive alien lenses stared out to follow the course of the departing vehicles.

END OF CHAPTER NINE

Chapter Ten

Accelerating, the black SUVs swept through the night-cloaked town. In the rear seat, the residents of Foster’s were doing their best to keep their cool—and failing. Wilt and Coco were doing their best to compose Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman, as Frankie explained everything to Agent Simmons.

“Listen, this is like the mother of all misunderstandings. You know kids like me—we’ve all spent too much time staring at the computer screen. Makes your brain go all fuzzy.” She spread her hands. “Someone stole my car, that’s all. Maybe I embellished the report a little, but at the time it was, like, the middle of the night and I was kind of panicking. But it’s fine, everything’s fine now. It came back.”

Mac jumped in. “Not by itself, obviously. Cars don’t do that, that’d be crazy.”

Simmons said nothing. Instead he removed a peculiar lens from the dashboard glovebox. “What do you all know about aliens?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Cheese is one!!!” Bloo screamed, before Sean and Alissa subdued him long enough for Frankie to answer Simmons’s question.

“Aliens?” Frankie’s shocked response was maybe a bit over-the-top. “Like, Martians? Don’t believe in ‘em.”

Leaning over the backseat, Simmons jammed the monocle against Frankie’s face, using it to cover one eye. On the side of the lens facing the agent, her pupil dilated. “Tell you what else I find deliciously interesting, kid: pupil dilation, body language, flushness of your skin. Because taken together, they’re showing me you’re all lying.” With his free hand he pulled back the front of his jacket to reveal the same badge that had so puzzled Mr. Herriman. “See this? This is a ‘Do-Whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it’ badge. I’m gonna lock you away forever, erase you like you never existed.”

Everyone was staying quiet (or trying to stay quiet, in the case of Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster). Eduardo seemed as if he was on the verge of tears from Simmons’s threats.

But the silence was soon broken by the sound, sight, and shudder of an enormous metal foot slamming down on the hood of the SUV, crumpling it like tinfoil. The government vehicle spun to a sudden and violent stop. Repeated pounding indicated the presence of something huge and heavy walking around it. Within the SUV, an assortment of sensitive instruments went berserk as blinding illumination filled the interior of the car with light. Simmons threw up his hands. Frantically, the driver tried to accelerate forward. He failed because the vehicle had been lifted into the air and off the road.

There was a metallic ripping sound as the roof of the big 4x4 was pulled upward and peeled back like the top of a sardine can. Roughly remade into an instant convertible, the SUV bounced wildly on its shocks as it was dropped back to Earth. Revealed in their own light, several gigantic figures could be seen peering downward at it.

Optimus Prime and his cohorts.

“You boys are in tuh-ru-ble now,” a juiced Frankie said in the direction of the car’s front seat.

Simmons and the driver drew their weapons. These promptly flew out of their hands into Jazz’s palm, accompanied by every other device on their persons that contained any ferrous alloy. The driver embarked on a futile attempt to hide behind the wheel.

With every passing second, the Foster’s residents (with the exception of Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman, who were both scared out of their wits) were feeling better and better. This was certain even as Mac said, “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to our friend—Optimus Prime.”

“OUT OF THE CAR, PLEASE,” the leader of the mechanoids announced politely but thunderously. Simmons and the driver complied with alacrity. Crouched together on the ground, they recoiled as the massive mechanical head lowered to within a foot of their faces. Enormous lenses focused on Simmons, who would greatly have preferred to avoid the attention. “Your nervous system does not register significant shock,” the giant observed thoughtfully. “You are not surprised by our existence.”

“Look, uh,” Simmons stammered, “there are Sector Seven protocols that need to be observed here. Okay? I’m not authorized to communicate with you. Except to tell you I can’t communicate with you.”

“What’s Sector Seven?” Frankie asked him. “How’d you know about the robots?” Simmons didn’t say a word, and Frankie had to give him his props. He was still a jerk, but at least he was a dedicated jerk.

Sean then approached him and ordered, “Take off your pants.”

“For what?”

“Threatening us. What else?”

Glaring, the agent and the driver obediently dropped their trousers and to their boxers. Simmons’s legs looked as if they hadn’t seen the light of day in years. There was a power pole nearby. Sean soon had both agents cuffed securely to the post. Simmons did not take his eyes off him the entire time.

“My friend, this is the beginning of the end of your life.”

In the meantime, Alissa Andrews had retreated to the ripped-open SUV and recovered her purse. She was only slightly worried about what her brother was doing to the agents, fearing jail time would be a result of it. And as if her worries could not have increased more, the sound of several helicopters cresting the nearby hillside had her nearly freaking out. A moment later a small fleet of SUVs arrived, screeching to respective halts on several sides. Robots and escapees alike found themselves suddenly surrounded.

“Oh, no.” Alissa uttered.

High-intensity spotlights swept across Optimus Prime’s massive outline. Taking one giant step forward, he picked the Foster’s residents up (including Herriman and Madame Foster, who were still speechless over the whole sudden change of events), reached back, and deposited them on his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Merging defensive sonics, the other robots emitted a collective pulse blast that simultaneously flattened the tires on every one of the SUVs. It was a disabling defense, but not one that was damaging to life. As multiple vehicle chassis hit the pavement, Optimus charged in the direction of the nearest cover. On his shoulders, the Foster’s residents held on for dear life.

One of the choppers immediately set off in pursuit of the fleeing robot. On the ground, agents used bolt cutters to free Simmons and his driver. Simmons displayed admirable determination as he alternately ran toward a descending copter while simultaneously trying to climb back into his pants.

END OF CHAPTER TEN

Chapter Eleven

The systems operator in the first helicopter gazed in frustration at his multiple readouts. Given the amount of sensing gear on board the advanced chopper, it should not have been possible to lose the position of one running giant robot. Try as he might, however, he could not locate the alien machine. The chopper cruised low over hills, checked clusters of trees, and even flew underneath a high overpass bridge.

Since every instrument on board was aimed straight down, they did not detect the robot that was clinging to the underside of the viaduct. Possessing muscles made only of flesh, the Foster?s residents struggled to hang on to the upside-down robot. They were just barely managing?when the rotor wash from the helicopter passing directly underneath sucked Mac downward. Clinging on to the hand of Wilt, who was clinging on to the others in a long chain of helpful people, Frankie reached out with the other and just caught his right forearm.

?Don?t let me go!? he screamed, hanging on to Frankie?s forearm as he dangled over the pavement below.

The strain was evident in Frankie?s voice as well as her face. ?I?I can?t hold on, Mac!?

A second chopper followed the first under the bridge. Its draft proved too much for the grip between the two humans. Reaching for him, Frankie lost her own grip and, pulling Wilt and the others along with her, fell along with Mac, all screaming. Swinging out a long leg, Optimus tried to catch them. All the effort had done was slightly slow their fall. The eyeglasses slipped from Frankie?s pocket and she made a desperate, futile grab from them. Closing her eyes, she waited for the final impact of her body hitting the ground. It came and she winced?and opened her eyes again.

Frankie and her friends landed in one of Bumblebee?s hands, and not on the hard pavement beneath the overpass. With infinite gentleness, the robot set them down on the roadside. Almost immediately, a steel-mesh net launched from one of the circling copters looped his right arm while another whipped around his legs. Working in unison, the two choppers turned north, yanking the robot off his feet and dragging him across the asphalt. Heedless of her own well being, Frankie ran after the entangled mechanoid.

?Stop it! You?re hurting him!?

?Frankie, you can?t?? Mac began as he hurried after her. His words were cut off by the heavy hand that slapped over his mouth, as he and the others were subdued by agents. Catching up to Frankie, a beefy agent began wrestling her back in the direction of the waiting vehicles. But she bit down on one of the restraining hands, forcing the agent to let her go as he cursed.

Scouring the surrounding area, other agents recovered most of what had been dropped during the fall from the bridge. Alissa?s purse and its contents ended up in the back of another vehicle.

Down the road, Bumblebee detected what was happening and redoubled his efforts to free himself from the entangling nets. Around him, camouflage-clad commandos were zip lining down from a newly arrived chopper. They carried no guns, no explosives. The packs on their backs were filled with a unique super-cooled carbon-fiber liquid held under high pressure. Hovering just out of reach, they began spraying the struggling robot from head to heel. Encased in the rapidly hardening material, Bumblebee took a step, a second?and then toppled forward as the substance hardened to form an unbreakable shell around his entire body.

?Get the heck away from him!? Frankie howled as she neared the scene. ?He?s not gonna hurt anyone!?

On the bridge high above, the other robots arrived. Crawling over the side of the bridge, Jazz hung upside down to face Optimus. ?We have to help him!?

The bigger robot?s voice was heavy with resignation. ?We cannot engage a situation like this without harming humans!?

Racing ahead, Frankie reached the place where the commandos had touched down and were continuing to spray the increasingly motionless Bumblebee. Kicking one from behind, she ripped the nozzle out of the startled soldier?s hands and pointed it at his leg. The man howled as cold plastic enveloped his lower limb. A moment later, agents swarmed Frankie and yanked the device out of her hands. They were less gentle this time as they threw her in the back of a different SUV, practically on top of her friends.

As the car screeched away, Frankie and her friends fought to sit up. Turning to look out the back window, they were just in time to see a pair of helicopters lifting the netted Bumblebee off the ground and swinging away to the north. The last of the choppers was gone. The commandos had been picked up and whisked away. None of the black SUVs remained. It was quiet again beneath the bridge.

Optimus Prime dropped from the underside of the bridge to land heavily on the pavement below. Continuing to harden on contact with the air, tendrils of the special liquid plastic coated parts of the street and the nearby hillside. There was also something else. Something the human agents had missed.

Bending low, the robot plucked a small, almost insignificant object from the ground where it had fallen: a pair of eyeglasses. With the touch of a surgeon, enormous metal fingers delicately picked up the pair of shabby old spectacles gleaming in the light from his eyes. Straightening, the massive robot looked first to the south, then to the north. They had the glasses.

But they had lost something else.

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

The story's looking good... That's all I can say, for now...

Just wanted to let everyone know that there's more story coming real soon. I have just been trying to get through real life as of late--it's really been kicking me in the butt. lol!

I appreciate all of the comments I've been getting on it. You all really know how to show your appreciation for something.:)

Chapter Twelve

It was very early and the sun was just raising its scorching self above the sere brown rocks of the desert horizon. These first rays found the three big army choppers traveling low and fast over the desiccated terrain. Each carried a different human cargo. Each component of that cargo had its own perspective on the incredible events of the past several days.

Frankie, Mac, Goo, and Bloo sat on the bench on the left side of the middle chopper?s cargo hold, while Mr. Herriman, Madame Foster, and the Andrews siblings sat on the other. All wore advanced radio headsets that for some time now had told them absolutely nothing. In one other chopper, the other residents of Foster?s (Wilt, Eduardo, Cheese, and Coco) were in the same position.

As the sun rose sharply, its intensifying rays struck gold off the surface of Lake Mead, behind Hoover Dam. The Foster?s passengers sought windows to look out, as the three choppers began to descend. Frankie, Mac, Goo, Bloo, Mr. Herriman, Madame Foster, and the Andrews siblings exited the second chopper, while the third disgorged Wilt, Eduardo, Cheese, and Coco.

From the first chopper stepped out the secretary of defense, Sector Seven agent Banachek, and Agent Simmons, the latter looking even more gaunt than usual. The sight of the secretary of defense there in the flesh was quite an overwhelming sight for the residents of Foster?s.

For a while, Alissa Andrews had paused to admire the view of the vast lake held back by the dam. As she was doing so, something hopped out of her purse, which had eventually been returned to her, and disappeared among the concrete and scrub.

At the base of Hoover Dam, a wheeled platform surrounded by heavily armed Sector Seven agents was being drawn into an access tunnel. Tightly bound to the moving platform, a yellow-and-black mechanical shape struggled ineffectively against its bonds. Mobile platform and its robotic cargo disappeared into the base of the great curved weir.

On top of the dam, the Foster?s residents were being ushered forward by Simmons and his minions. A tall agent joined them with a gleaming metal briefcase cuffed to his left wrist. Banachek glanced at the group. ?Listen to me carefully. Some really bad things have happened this past week. There are some really bad things going on right now. People have died. More people could be killed?maybe a lot more. We need to know everything you know, work together, to stop those things from happening.?

Frankie calmed down?but only a little. ?Not till you promise me you won?t hurt him?my car, I mean. It?s the only way I?ll talk.?

Banachek nodded understandingly. ?Deal.? He then gestured for the others in the ensemble to join them. ?Follow me. Time is of the essence.?

As Banachek led the group past the humming generators, Simmons was finally able to unburden himself of some classified information. ?Here?s the situation insofar as we have been able to determine it,? he told them. ?We appear to be facing war against a highly advanced technological civilization far superior to our own.? He nodded to Frankie, then her friends. ?You?re here because in one way or another, you?ve all had direct contact with the NBEs.?

Sean looked uncertain. ?NBEs??

?Non-biological extraterrestrials,? Simmons told him. ?Try and keep up with the acronyms.?

A massive door loomed ahead. It would not have been out of place fronting an airline hangar?except that it was hundreds of feet underground. Though out of time, Banachek still tried to prepare them.

?You?re about to see something few people know about and even fewer get to experience in person. Don?t forget to breathe.?

Rumbling, the door began to move aside. As soon as enough of an opening had appeared, Banachek led them inside. The underground silo was immense. Multitiered gantries and girders leavened with strands of tubes containing liquid nitrogen surrounded something frozen in blue-tinted ice. Something huge, ominous, and?bipedal. Another robot. As big as if not bigger than Optimus Prime, an awestruck Mac decided. He could not take his eyes from it as they were led inside. Neither could Frankie or the others.

Banachek offered more detail. ?We think that when it approached our world, it came in too low over the North Pole. Maybe there was an especially active aurora at the time, or maybe it miscalculated the strength of our gravitational field, or maybe a sudden solar flare screwed up its navigational instrumentation. It was fairly clear from the position and attitude in which it was found that it did not make a controlled touchdown. We surmise that it crashed into the polar ice, was seriously incapacitated, and subsequently became frozen in place by a series of active cross-current pressure ridges.? He looked over at Frankie and Madame Foster. ?Samantha Foster made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind.?

?Old Grammy Sammy sure knew her discoveries, that?s for sure.? Madame Foster said with a chuckle. ?She made it a few times in the Guinness Book of World Records, you know.?

?Who knew she would discover Megatron himself.? Frankie uttered, and all of the agents? eyes focused on her. ?Leader of the Decepticons, as we would call them.?

?Basically, the bad guys,? Mac added helpfully.

?In case you kinda didn?t get that from the name.? Sean stated.

As they conversed, a tiny mechanical spider-shape was working it way around the perimeter of the enormous open space. When workers threatened to come too close, Frenzy merged into the background until they had continued on past. None of the passing humans noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, Frankie was continuing with her explanation. ?The reason they came here to Earth in the first place was to find the Energon Cube. Mr. Megatron here is like the harbinger of universal death. Pretty much wants the Cube so he can transform all machine ?life? and take over the universe one technologically oriented world at a time. Starting with ours.?

Banachek and Simmons exchanged a fleeting glance. Frankie was no trained psychologist, but the meaning behind that look was easy enough to grasp. She gaped at them both as comprehension dawned.

?You guys know where it is, don't ya?!?

END OF CHAPTER TWELVE

Chapter Thirteen

The chamber that held the Energon Cube was brightly lit with the Cube itself hung in the center, swathed in a web of umbilicals that both supported and monitored the alien artifact in their midst. Visitors and technicians alike could observe the Cube from an observation deck walled with panels of transparent, double-thick polycarbonate.

All of the sudden, the floor rocked beneath them. Not enough to knock anyone off their feet, but sufficient to indicate that for a locality that was supposed to be technologically inert, something was badly wrong. If they could have seen the approaching transformed bots, from a F-22 Raptor to the MH-53 assault helicopter to the eclectic assortment of oddly perfect vehicles that was presently rushing the dam, the Foster?s residents would have felt considerably worse.

Mac gazed anxiously at the alien relic that was the Cube. It was completely covered in static alien glyphs?except that some of them now seemed to have acquired a slight shimmer. Nothing more than a trick of the artificial lighting?he hoped.

Sean was looking upward. ?Those are concussion blasts. Could be terrorists?or something else.?

The Secretary of Defense, John Keller, bit his lower lip. ?Terrorists could never get this close to the dam. Security is too tight. Has to be something more than that. Bigger than that.? The secretary did not have to further identify the unstated ?something.? Everyone in the lab knew whom he meant. Knew what he meant. Turning, he looked toward the chamber that held the silent, pulsing Energon Cube. ?They know it?s here.?

Sean didn?t know about the others, but he for one was not about to wait around toothless for the next strike. Terrorists or Decepticons, he was not about to go naked into the good day. He had experienced with weapons from his days at the shooting range in town, and he could use a gun right about now. Turning, he put himself right in Simmons?s face and demanded:

?Where?s your security armory??

Meanwhile, in another room that was much larger but not very far away, power to a special cooling system failed. Emergency backup immediately came online. Initial panic among the technicians began to subside. It resumed full-bore when backup power, too, suddenly vanished. Essential readouts were frantically checked, vital monitors scanned. The junction where the flow of backup power had been cut could be located, but could the key failure be repaired in time?

Not if the spidery mechanoid called Frenzy had anything to do with it. Unseen and unchallenged, it roamed through the most sensitive concatenations of circuitry and linkages, snipping cables, frying microchips, and generally wreaking nonstop havoc with the intricate system that maintained the vast room at a specific predetermined temperature.

That room was beginning to warm up.

With the power to them now cut off, clamps and cables holding the huge mechanoid steady and stable in the center of the room began to retract. Some of the technicians began to flee the observation deck, running like mad for the elevators.

Sean Andrews and the others had no time to flee. But the security armory was close by. He felt much better as soon as he was cradling one of the high-tech handheld rocket launchers in his arms. His sister was more than surprised to see him doing so.

?I never really placed you and guns together, you know.? Alissa stated.

?Yeah, well?get used to it, ?cause you?re gonna be packin? yourself.? He said, as he handed a weapon to his bewildered sister who nearly collapsed under its massive weight.

Nearby, Bloo had been holding a gun out of the arsenal himself. ?My dream?s finally becoming a reality! I?m gonna be the most awesomest of awesome road warriors the world has ever seen!? As he was aiming the weapon in all sorts of directions, he soon found it snatched away from his hand by Madame Foster, who grinned confidently as she held it herself.

?Nellis Air Base is fifty miles away,? Keller remembered. ?They can have air support here in ten minutes.?

Frankie had been employing every kind of work-around she knew to try and coax a response from her phone?to no avail. ?Communication?s been out for hours now. And I?m still not getting anything.?

?You wouldn?t get a signal down here even if they were working, Frankie.? Mac said, gesturing upward with an index finger. ?All those football fields? worth of concrete, remember??

Frankie quickly thought of an alternative. Approaching Simmons, she said, ?You gotta take me to my car!? She was doing everything but kicking Simmons in a frantic effort to get the agent?s attention. ?He?ll know what to do with that Cube!?

The agent finally deigned to notice her. ?You nuts?? After asking that, another concussion coursed through the ground under their feet.

Sean Andrews then confronted the agent. ?Listen, I?ve seen what these things can do. If whatever is here now is anything like what we?ve encountered a day ago and they get hold of that Cube?s energy, we?re dead anyway.?

Glaring at both of them, Simmons protested loudly. ?She?s a delinquent! You expect us to believe a??

Grabbing the agent by the front of his jacket, an enraged Sean lifted him off the ground and slammed him up against the wall. Immediately, the Sector Seven agents in the armory drew their weapons, while Madame Foster and Bloo (grabbing another gun off the rack) aimed theirs at the agents. Alissa aimed hers at the agents as well, even though she had no idea why.

Sean?s tone was low and tight, his words careful and distinct. ?Listen to me. I?ve been having a real bad week, so you do not want to test my patience. I?m so ticked off that I?m willing to waste these things without fear or hesitation, and you haven?t got an idea what to do next. So take my friend?s freakin? car!?

The tension in the armory was thick enough to cut with a knife, except that it would have upset the shaky balance of power. Simmons?s expression changed from natural defiance to a resigned sneer as he relaxed in Sean?s grasp. ?All right, sure, why not? Hey, you wanna lay the fate of the world on the goodwill of a girl?s Camaro? That?s cool.?

While the agents and visitors in the lab tried to decide how best to proceed, the now-unclamped and fully defrosted monster in the silo not far away was starting to awaken. Electronic synapses pulsed with renewed energy. Permanently self-lubricating joints began to stir. Enormous limbs ran checks on the condition of their long-dormant extremities. Dark irises expanded. Consciousness was returning to Megatron, and the cosmos would be the worse of it.

Optics began to focus. On the floor and within the observation deck, techs and scientists and maintenance personnel were now fleeing in all directions as they scrambled to reach the nearest exits. Behind them, the first electronic utterance to emerge from the gigantic long-quiescent mechanoid was accomplished with the expenditure of a barely measurable amount of energy.

?INSECTS.?

Contemptuously shaking off the last of the restraints that had held it in place for so many years, the first of the great metal limbs began to move forward.

END OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Chapter Fourteen

In a separate containment area, Bumblebee remained secured to an examination slab. Lights of different wavelengths bombarded both the platform and its imprisoned occupant. Mists that had been treated with various chemicals drifted over the struggling subject and were drawn into multiple collection tubes. The venue was loud and unpleasant.

Frankie had to yell at the top of her lungs as the door to the examination area burst open and she rushed in, followed by her companions and the group of armed agents.

?Stop! You gotta let him go!?

Banachek had hurried over to the researcher in charge. Flashing a badge, he nodded in agreement. ?It?s okay, release him. My authority.? The lead researcher relayed the necessary orders.

Study lights winked off and the cloud of sensing gas began to dissipate, sucked away by concealed fans. Bindings and clamps were withdrawn. When the last of them had pulled away, the robot on the rack sat up as Frankie raced over to check on her friend. ?You okay??

The Transformer looked down at the young human. The song that emerged from within the metal body was perfectly appropriate to their reunion.

?Yeah, yeah,? Frankie responded, ?It?s great to see you, too, but listen to me. The Cube?s here, so is Megatron, and we?re pretty sure the Decepticons are coming for both of them!?

Instantly the yellow-and-black robot was on his feet and racing for the access door. With shorter strides and considerably more apprehension, the growing knot of humans and imaginary friends followed. Halfway to the exit, Keller spotted the secret installation?s central research room.

?National Guard radio may still be up and functioning. We can try and get word out over rudimentary frequencies.?

Goo had been listening to the security of defense?s suggestion and considered it. ?No sweat. I?m a natural when it comes to hotwiring some old gear to transmit simple Morse.? While running, the others turned and looked in her direction with odd expressions. ?What? I can hook up an Xbox 360 all by myself, but I can?t do some hotwiring every now and then. I?m smart. Gimme a break.?

?Hey, I?m cool with that.? Sean said. ?Just make contact with Nellis if you can. Get some air support, then when we get wherever we?re going we?ll find some kind of transmitter and Alissa can vector ?em in.?

?I can?? She remarked with surprise.

?Of course. You?ve been specializing in all sorts of technical stuff for years now.? Sean stated. ?You can do it, babe.?

At that moment, the group separated, with Keller, Goo, and Simmons heading for the research room (with Madame Foster tagging along as backup, Mr. Herriman just coming to avoid any more giant robots, and Cheese for no apparent reason at all).

Meanwhile, the group made it to the Cube-holding chamber, where Banachek?s role as leader of Sector Seven came in handy of a hasty handover of command. It was much harder to convince the technicians charged with monitoring the Cube to step back to let an alien robot take control.

Bumblebee reached the Cube. For an instant he hesitated and simply stared. The artifact before him was, after all, the original source of all life energy for his kind. As the robot extended both hands toward the Cube, the ceaseless hum that emanated from it began to rise and fall, to stutter rapidly as it responded to the proximity of a Transformer.

Tendrils of energy suddenly arced between the Cube and Bumblebee?s fingers. Some type of contact had definitely been made, but it was contact of a kind that could never be known to mere humans or imaginary friends. The robot and the Cube were talking with light.

Contact came to an end. There followed a moment of silence that was shocking in its tranquility. Then both Cube and robot began to transform. Frankie, her friends, and the captivated agents looked on as Bumblebee bent and twisted before their eyes, first contorting in upon himself, then thrusting blades of metal out and forward, until finally there was nothing more complex and alien than a simple car.

As for the Cube, it had begun the process of transformation by folding in on itself, sides and glyphs and symbols shrinking and contracting, becoming a steadily reducing succession of concentric squares, until at last it had shrunk to something that was no bigger than a football. Resting in the backseat of the car, it presented an appearance that was both harmless and unimpressive. A seat belt rose up seemingly of its own accord to lash it down. Doors snapped open, and the car?s horn honked anxiously.

END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN

There was the usual traffic on the highway leading to Vegas, but not enough to dangerously inhibit the convoy. Flanked in front and behind by the shepherding Sector Seven vehicles, the Camaro purred northward away from the dam and the Colorado River. They were headed for the complex of military bases located just outside the city. Once there, they would be far better equipped to protect the Cube and deal with anything the Decepticons could throw at them.

Inside the Camaro, Mac turned to look into the backseat.

“Is the Cube okay?” Frankie asked him.

“Yeah,” he assured her.

Riding in one of the Sector Seven vehicles, Sean noticed an exotic sports car suddenly appeared in the passing lane and accelerated to slide in beside the Camaro. He couldn’t have been more relieved to see Jazz arrived in time. But he wasn’t alone. Other escorts soon made their appearance. Jazz dropped back behind the Camaro to allow an emergency vehicle to take up a flanking position. Then came the tricked-out black GMC pickup and the blaring eighteen-wheeler.

There being no direct access to the military complex on the other side, the convoy would have to negotiate some of the city’s poorer outskirts before clear access and additional freeway allowed them to enter the air force base. The alternative was going a dangerously long way around.

As they entered an area of the city speckled with small stores and family businesses, Sean directed the driver of his vehicle to pull over and park. While pedestrians gaped at and commented on the decidedly odd mix of vehicles, Sean raced around to the driver’s side of the idling Camaro. Alissa was close on his heels while Frankie looked up at him in confusion.

“Gimme a second to find an old radio!” Sean yelled in at her and Mac. “We need to be able to relay our position.”

Frankie was no military strategist, and she was very surprise to hear Sean talk as if he were one. She figured it had to have been from playing enough games to know how to think that way. “What if no one’s been able to call out our air strike?”

Sean almost grinned at her. “Well, that would suck.”

Mac leaned toward him. “Shouldn’t we keep going toward the air force base on the other side of the city?”

Sean shook his head. “Not good tactics to split up, Mac. Not here. Please, just a minute.”

Frankie was still uncertain. “Where are you gonna find an old radio?”

Sean turned and pointed. Following his lead, Frankie and Mac saw the old pawnshop that had drawn his attention. The barred windows were crammed with an impressive assortment of cast-off junk, some of it fairly recent. That was hardly surprising in a city like Las Vegas, where sometimes it seemed like every other piece of personal property in town had at one time or another been pawned to pay a gambling debt.


An agitated Goo was already ripping the back off a computer. Keller joined Simmons in searching for a tool kit (with Cheese offering somewhat of assistance), smoldering equipment—anything that could be used to join wires and unfried microchips. Keller dumped some tools on the table beside Goo, who picked up a small screwdriver as she went to work in earnest on the computer’s interior.

All of the sudden, something slammed into the metal door that led to the access tunnel outside. Everyone stopped what they were doing except Goo.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! They’ve found us! They’re coming to destroy us all!” Herriman cried, while hiding beneath a table.

The banging and hammering resumed with precise ferocity. Ignoring it, Goo wired an antenna Simmons had found directly into the hastily revamped guts of the old computer.

Keller and Madame Foster were shoving a heavy cabinet toward the doorway. A portion of the door bent toward the inside and a skinny robotic head and upper body managed to wedge their way through the gap. Swiftly scanning the room to evaluate its contents and occupants, Frenzy flexed its torso.

A trio of silvery discs shot from the robot’s chest. Keller tackled a startled Madame Foster as two of the discs whizzed over her head to rip into books and files. The third disc shot over the keyboard of the computer Goo was modifying, smashing into the computer behind her.

“What is that freaky-lookin’ thing?!” Goo shouted.

“A monster! That's what it is!” Herriman yelled from his hiding place.

Recovering, Simmons stumbled over to a glass case filled with Sector Seven emergency equipment. Pulling out a riot gun and a box of twelve-gauge shells, he handed both to Madame Foster, who had already been equipped with another gun. Simmons took out a small, very portable device whose compact tank was filled with jellied gasoline under pressure.

A flash of sparks caused Goo to flinch back slightly from her work. She was not displeased by the effect. “Hey, I got it! I got it! We can transmit.”

The secretary turned to Goo. “Send exactly what I say. This is Secretary of Defense John Keller calling NORTHCOM. Authenticate emergency response Blackbird one-one-nine-five-Alpha.” For someone used to typing well over a hundred words a minute (as well as speaking as many), it seemed prehistoric to be using only two keys of the keyboard.

Driven back by the heat from Simmons’s miniature flamethrower, Frenzy had been forced to retreat. Now it was back, and the angry pounding on the barrier had resumed. Every time a flailing metal limb tested the opening in the damaged door, Simmons bathed it in fire and it hastily withdrew.

But if the door came down, he had already decided, they would have about thirty seconds in which to kill the thing before it started ripping into them.

Chapter Sixteen

Still gripping her gun, Madame Foster shoved hard against the cabinet with her shoulder, leaning all her weight into it to keep it wedged against the badly damaged door. Keller and Simmons joined her in the effort. Behind them, Cheese was running around screaming, while Goo was leaning toward one of the computer?s speakers. An electronic stutter suddenly made itself known above the low-level static.

?They?re responding!? she yelled excitedly to her companions, meeting Keller?s gaze. ?They?ve accepted your authorization code!?

The secretary?s spirits soared. ?Call in the strike! Tell them what?s happened here, put it in your own words, but tell them what to look for in the immediate area and to respond accordingly!?

Goo nodded and bent back to the keyboard. As she did so, the deteriorating door finally buckled enough to allow Frenzy to squeeze through. Leaping into the room, the Decepticon instantly appraised its surroundings and began unleashing one lethal disc after another.

Madame Foster dodged to the side as one disc cut right through the barrel of her riot gun, taking another couple of inches off its already reduced length. The damage didn?t seem to affect its functionality, however?that much was certain to Madame Foster even as she said, ?Ain?t no stoppin? me, ya little pipsqueak!?

When she pumped it and fired, the shell struck the homicidal robot dead-on. The mechanoid emitted a crazed electronic squeal as the sheer force of the shot knocked it backward. Recovering its footing, Frenzy looked around and sprang straight up as Madame Foster fired again. The robot disappeared through a gap in the ceiling where an insulation panel had been removed to allow maintenance access.

?Goo! Send the message quick!? she shouted at her friend as she patrolled beneath the ceiling, trying to listen for movement overhead while gripping the shotgun tightly.

Goo was tap-tapping furiously on the two keys. ?I?m doing my best here. The killer robot?s really distracting, you know!?

Halting, Madame Foster listened intently, then raised the shotgun and fired upward. A section of ceiling came crashing down, followed by the robot. Whipping limbs sent Keller spinning to the ground. Stepping up beside Madame Foster, Simmons unleashed his flamethrower. Displaying reflexes no human could have matched, the robot dodged the gout of flame and fired another disc. Only Simmons?s exceptional training saved him as he twitched to one side at the last possible instant.

Having sidetracked the agent, the crazed machine spun on Madame Foster. She fired once, twice, click. Empty.

Using the gun as a club, she swung madly at the oncoming robot. Her eyes were fixed on the place on its torso that emitted the deadly discs. When it fired again, she crouched down as low as she could. The discs bounced all around the room. Most embedded themselves in equipment. Only one of them ricocheted several times before returning to take a reverse swipe at its intended target.

Ready for it this time, Madame Foster ducked a second time. It shot over her and?cleanly decapitated the machine from which it had been launched. As Frenzy?s head fell to the floor, the multi-limbed body swiftly crumpled. Breathing hard and still clutching the empty shotgun, Madame Foster straightened and glared down at the twitching body.

?Ha! What goes around comes around, baby!?

Keller turned to confront an exhausted Goo. ?Did you get the message out?? Goo slumped in the chair. For a moment she didn?t respond. Then she turned to him and a wide grin broke out across her face. Holding up both index fingers, the ones she had used to tap out the Morse, she blew on the tip of the first one and then the other, nodding as she did so.


It didn?t take long after Sean rejoined the others for Alissa to make relay contact with the scrambled flight from Nellis. It was a strange way to communicate?CB radio to field relay to base to aircraft?but it worked. ?Aircraft circling city, this is on-site. How copy? Can you track our position??

The only reply was static. Then a low whine became audible. Coming in low and fast, the F-22 Raptor passed directly overhead, a lot lower and closer than anyone in the FAA would have countenanced. As it thundered past, Sean turned to follow its progress.

?The air force has arrived! Confirm our position.?

A couple of Sector Seven agents fired flares. It was immediately evident that they had been observed, as the jet began to circle back. The fighter came in their direction, dipping lower as it approached.

Within the convoy, shapes shifted, bodies morphed as pickup and eighteen-wheeler, sports car and Camaro and emergency vehicle swiftly transformed. They did not need to consult with the humans or imaginary friends in their midst to know that something was wrong.

?Jazz, Bumblebee,? Ironhide rumbled, ?flanking positions!?

Jazz loped to one side as the Raptor came on, impossibly low, and?unleashed missiles straight at the convoy.

?NOOO!!!? Sean howled as he dove to one side.

The Decepticon known as Starscream, disguised as the Raptor, fired several times as its targets scattered for whatever cover they could find. Heedless of their own exposure, Bumblebee and Ironhide picked up and flipped a nearby heavy truck in front of the convoy to shield the unprotected humans and imaginary friends. One missile struck the truck and sheared it in half. Bumblebee was catapulted backward, his torso bouncing one way, his legs the other. The hideous squeal of metal sliding over cement accompanied him as he finally tumbled to a stop.

Knocked free by the blast, the Energon Cube went bouncing onto the asphalt. The combination of the impact and the concussion from the missile strike caused it to release a short-range shock wave that swept over everything within the wave?s effective radius?including any and all electromechanical devices.

Having looked on in shock at the ongoing chaos, two young men abruptly fled from their car as the energy wave from the Cube swept through their vehicle. As they stumbled away, every piece of electronics in the tricked-out sedan was transformed into a miniature multi-legged horror.

Rapidly losing intensity as it dissipated outward, the wave still retained enough strength to shatter the windows in a nearby superstore. Rushing through the aisles, the energy burst swept over one shelf after another. Soon panicked shoppers were fleeing in all directions. One employee pushing a cart piled high with game consoles screamed as metal arms suddenly thrust out of every box, ripping at the cardboard in a frenzied desire to escape.

Among the stores situated on a street a block further away was an extensive gun shop. Within the single, heavily barred window a single rifle put out hesitant tendrils and started to rise before collapsing back onto its display mount. The Energon wave had lost its potency nary a yard too soon. There was no foreseeing what mayhem a second, stronger discharge might set loose on the already chaotic streets.

END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Chapter Seventeen

Out on the pavement, Sean dragged himself out of the debris. His gut instinct was to find a weapon and start fighting back. But seeing Frankie and Mac, he instead hurried over to help them climb free of the wreckage. Around them the street had turned into a war zone. Water fountained from a broken fire hydrant. Lying off to one side and close by, Bumblebee?s shattered lower torso trailed twisted metal. His legs were nowhere in sight.

?Bumblebee.? Frankie?s eyes widened in horror as the full extent of the damage to her friend became apparent. ?Oh, no. Somebody, help!?

?Ratchet!? Mac called desperately.

Fighting, digging at the ground with his hands, the yellow-and-black torso struggled to drag himself over to where the Cube lay exposed and unprotected on the bare pavement. Under Sean?s direction, Sector Seven agents who were able to do so spread out to form a defensive cordon around the vital artifact.

Two blocks away, a Decepticon known as Blackout appeared, perching like a hawk on top of an undamaged building. The ground shook as a previously undetected Decepticon came running around a corner. Cloaked in the persona of an Abrams tank, it flattened unoccupied cars beneath its massive treads as it trundled forward. Transfixed and with nowhere to run, Frankie, Mac, Bloo, Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo could only crouch and stare.

A couple of the small-armed Sector Seven vehicles charged at the advancing tank, firing their mounted weapons. Instead of artillery shells, pulse blasts erupted from the armored behemoth. Both charging vehicles were hit, knocked engine-over-exhaust, to explode when they hit the ground.

As everyone looked on, the Abrams tank known as Devastator transformed, rising upward on two massive legs. But the head remained a turret. This pivoted toward them.

Something low and fast appeared behind the transformed tank, morphing even as it skidded forward. Transforming in midslide, Jazz leaped onto the hostile robot?s back and wrenched its torso backward as it fired. The pulse blast shot skyward, missing people and buildings alike. Spinning free, the smaller but more agile Jazz slammed the robot Devastator into a nearby structure just as Ratchet and Ironhide arrived. Transforming together, the three robots began to pound the single powerful Decepticon in their midst.

They were not alone. Seizing the opportunity, Sean led Sector Seven commandoes forward. Launchers were lifted and carefully aimed so as to avoid robotic allies. Miniature sabot rounds sped toward their target.

A massive pulse blast from an unseen source struck Jazz, knocking him to the ground and out of the fight. Looking upward, Sean and his comrades retreated as rapidly as they had just advanced. Something truly massive was coming around the corner: Megatron.

Bending over the injured Jazz, the dark metal monstrosity zeroed in on the damaged robot?s torso, reached down, and with piercing fingers ripped out a flashing, flaring sphere of energy. His spark brutally extracted, Jazz went instantly immobile.

A moment too late, a second colossal machine arrived. Tearing through the fences that separated several of the surrounding buildings, the big diesel was transforming even as he raced forward.

Megatron saw Optimus Prime coming and transformed in reverse. But as the alien jet that Megatron became started to rise, Optimus stretched out both arms, took a single tremendous leap, and locked onto his ascending counterpart. The weight was too much. Both machines plunged downward, smashed into one building, and plunged to the street. Optimus rose immediately. As he stood, the enraged Megatron transformed again, back to his innate, intimidating, bipedal self.

?Hello, Brother,? the giant hissed.

Holding his ground, Optimus gazed evenly back at his peer. ?Hello, Brother.? Nothing else was said. There followed no further words, no elaboration, no nanosecond burst of sonic communication. There was nothing more. It was as though all the millennia that had vanished into time since their last physical encounter had never passed. They charged simultaneously and collided.


Using his hands, Bumblebee had managed to drag himself over to the softly pulsing Cube. Recovering the device, he then pulled himself over to where Frankie and her friends crouched. When Frankie turned at the gentle metal touch, the robot placed the Cube in her hand, clearly urging Frankie to flee.

?No.? Moisture began to well up in Frankie?s eyes. ?I?m not gonna leave you.?

As had already been explained to them, they knew that the yellow-and-black robot did not have much to speak with. But by rechanneling an electrical impulse here, recalibrating output elsewhere, he managed to work around his long-destroyed vocal symbology. Managed to utter two words:

?Gggggooooo Fffffrrraaaannnnkkkkiiiieeee??

Above the hiss and roar of sabot rounds being fired and exploding, colliding metal, and crumbling infrastructure, the sudden thumping of multiple rotor blades suddenly made itself heard. Sean looked up. Army Black Hawks, several of them. Better late than never, he told himself. He hurried over to where Frankie was still standing next to the severely damaged Bumblebee.

Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a compact cylinder. ?Here?s a rescue flare.? He indicated the nearest building. ?Get up on that roof and signal one of the choppers?they?ll pick you up. Do not stop, do not look back?just go. You?re a solider now, Frankie. Everybody?s a solider until this is?over. Get that Cube out of the city. As far away as you can. Or a lot of people are gonna die here!?

Mac approached Frankie with a smile. ?I?ll help you out, Frankie. We?re all in this together.?

Frankie smiled back. Holding the Cube like a football for a big game, she and Mac turned and ran. A shadow loomed over them?Ironhide, providing cover for them. They hurried past cars that had been abandoned, past others that had been destroyed or were burning noisily.

A pulse blast struck Frankie and Mac?s bulky escort. The force of it blew Ironhide off his feet and into the side of a building on the far side of the street. Though Sean?s words echoed in Frankie?s brain, his admonition was unnecessary. Neither Frankie nor Mac had any intention of stopping.

But when the F-22 came rocketing down the avenue toward them and transformed on landing back into Starscream, Frankie and Mac had no choice. Their path was blocked, and not by rubble. Changing direction, they turned and raced up a narrower street. Behind them, the huge robot fired in their direction. Brick and rock and asphalt erupting all around them, the two humans could only yell wildly.


Ignored by soldiers, agents, Decepticons, and Autobots alike, Bloo searched for some way to contribute both himself and Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco into the ongoing battle?he just couldn?t pass on a great opportunity to become a big hero. Parked in a nearby tow-away zone, a tow truck beckoned. Smashing the window with a chunk of concrete, Bloo climbed inside, while Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco just looked on.

?Bloo, what?re you doing?? Wilt asked. ?I?m sorry, but breaking into someone?s private property isn?t a good idea.?

Bloo turned to him with a deep glare. ?This is war, my friend! There are no rules or boundaries over private property here! We must do what we can to help save this galaxy!? Hoping for keys, he found none in the truck. The same piece of broken roadway that had secured his entrance served to batter loose the ignition assembly. Bloo then stripped wires and brought them together, generating sparks that were followed by a throaty rumble as the engine finally turned over.

?Did Bloo just hotwire a truck?? Wilt asked.

?Si.? Eduardo replied.

?Coco. Coco. Coco. Coco.?

?I don?t know how everybody?s been learning this stuff lately.? Wilt remarked to Coco?s question.

END OF CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Chapter Eighteen

The handsome old office building was in the throes of reconstruction. Because of that and the concurrent absence of furniture, there was only construction detritus to block Frankie and Mac?s way: gallons of paint, half-assembled scaffolding, yards of plastic sheeting, rolls of fiberglass insulation, bags and packages, and stacks of refuse. No use looking for a functional elevator, they saw right away: that was also undergoing renovation.

?Let?s just take the stairs!? Mac excitedly suggested, and they bolted upward as the building shook from the shock of nearby explosions.

A gigantic metal skull crashed through the floor they had just surmounted. Turning to look upward, it shone dark lenses on the ascending forms of Frankie and Mac. Five massive fingers thrust upward, reaching. They leaped for the next landing as the hand smashed into the stairs they had just vacated.

?Man! This is insane!!? Frankie exclaimed.

The roof was empty, deserted, and undamaged. Mac?s fingers fumbled with the flare, nearly dropping it. Halfway to the edge of the building it suddenly ignited. By great good fortune, it happened to do so as it was pointing upward. The bright ball of light snared skyward, an unmissable, unmistakable beacon that screamed, ?Here, we?re here!?

The Black Hawk chopper appeared at the side of the building before the flare had fallen halfway back to Earth. Standing on the skid facing the roof, an army commando reached out and down with both arms, extending himself as far as he could.

?Grab my hands! My hands!? he yelled.

Handing the Cube over to Mac, Frankie gave him direct orders. ?Here. Take this and go first.?

Mac leaned out, the gale from the hovering copter buffeting both him and Frankie, threatening to blind them with their own windblown hair. It seemed a long, long way between them and the chopper. It was certainly a long, long way to the pavement far below. Easing himself forward and holding tightly to the Cube with one hand, Mac reached out with the other.

Then the world suddenly blew up in his face.

Stunned and thrown backward along with Frankie by the force of the explosion, Mac struggled to see through the rain of flaming copter debris landing all around them. Scrambling to the building?s edge and peering out and down, Frankie and Mac were just in time to see an F-22 go thundering past. It looked up at them, electric with menace. Starscream again.

A distraught Sean tracked the wreckage of the flaming Black Hawk as it spiraled downward. ?No, no, no!? He turned away as it slammed into the street and exploded. When he looked up again, his eyes encountered a massive pair of lenses?questioning, not threatening. Whirling, he pointed to the top of the tall building.

?Mac and Frankie! They?re up there! They?re in trouble!? The head of the enormous mechanoid tilted back to follow Sean?s lead and considered.


Bringing the tow truck around, Bloo hurried out with Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco and around the back. They found the tow chains stored and waiting where they ought to be. Pulling them out, they dragged them over to the recumbent Bumblebee and began draping them around metal shoulders. The procedure didn?t take long.

?Hold on. We?re going help you?if that?s okay.? Wilt told Bumblebee.

Locating the correct lever and pushing it down drew the chains taut and hauled the yellow-and-black shape erect. But all the seriously wounded robot could do was sit upright.

Just as Bloo was trying to decide which street to flee down, another shape appeared. The transformed tank, Devastator, had recovered sufficiently to rejoin the battle. Firing in their direction, its first blast knocked them off their feet. Dazed, Bloo and the others struggled to recover their senses. Using the truck for cover, they hurried forward and managed to slip into the cab.

?Let?s bloo this!? Bloo exclaimed with a grin. ?See? It sounds much cooler when it?s me who?s saying it.?

?No?it doesn?t.? Wilt remarked.

?Sí.? Eduardo agreed.

?Coco. Coco.?

Bloo just scoffed at the three. ?Whatever!? Flooring the accelerator, he drove the truck back into battle.

Taking cover in a badly damaged building, Sean and his comrades had to sprint and dodge to avoid one strike after another from Devastator. Given a brief respite as their hulking hunter sought their latest hiding place, Sean called a squad of Sector Seven commandos to him.

?We?re three stories here,? he told them, breathing hard as he indicated the surrounding structure. ?Get up on the top floor and try to get a better angle on this thing. We?ll keep it busy down here.? The squad leader nodded his comprehension and gestured at his comrades. They rushed for the stairs, leaving Sean and the others behind.

Screeching around the last corner, Bloo found himself back on the periphery of the ongoing melee?and behind Devastator. In front of the tank, he and the others could see soldiers popping up and down inside a building to fire in the direction of the transformed tank, and the robot responding by unleashing periodic pulse blasts in their direction. Devastator gave no indication that he was aware of the presence behind him.

?You?re going down, clown!? Bloo screamed wildly, gripping the wheel tightly in both hands and flooring the accelerator, dragging Bumblebee between abandoned cars. The robot?s wide body snapped off doors as the tow truck gathered speed.

?We?ll aim, you shoot!? Bloo yelled back out the open window. Appropriately angry music?the heavy metal was not unexpected?blasted understandingly from the robot?s torso as he readied an arm cannon.

A precisely aligned shot from the injured robot screamed past the imaginary friends inside the cab, followed closely by a second. Both pulse blasts slammed into the rear of the transformed Devastator, splintering the air intake while lifting the back of the tank completely off the ground. The robot landed, ruined and smoking in the street.

?Muy bien shot, senor Bumblebee!? Eduardo exclaimed out the window.


As Frankie and Mac huddled on the rooftop wondering what to do next, an enormous shape erupted from the stairwell behind them, shattering the roof and sending chunks of it splattering in all directions. Through the flying debris, they both saw a dark form rise up and up.

Fear suddenly beginning to take over, Frankie whispered to Mac, ?Hold on to me close. It?s going to be okay.?

?CLEVER INSECTS.? Megatron was looking directly at them. Frankie could only look back. There was nowhere left to go. A huge hand extended in their direction. ?IT IS OVER. GIVE ME THE CUBE.?

Scrambling to the edge of the roof, Frankie took a look over the side, nearly vomited, and hung on to her small glowing burden. ?Try asking that again, tin-head! And I bet a million I won?t hand it over to ya!?

?I ADMIRE YOUR ARMOR. BOLD WORDS FROM SUCH A TINY, FRAGILE ORGANISM. WORDS ARE PRAISEWORTHY. METAL IS BETTER.? The fingers gestured. ?THE CUBE. NOW.?

Chests heaving, Frankie and Mac crawled a little further, until their heads and parts of their upper bodies were hanging over the drop. Mac bravely told Megatron, ?We are never giving it to you!? Rolling suddenly to their right, they sprinted toward the opposite edge. Through the settling dust, they had spotted a double loop of metal there?a fire ladder, hanging over the side.

END OF CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chapter Nineteen

Out in the street where he and his comrades had fled from the building, Sean?s gaze locked on a parked motorcycle. In his panic, the driver had abandoned it. The key was lying by the kickstand: good. Picking it up, his sister watched him with confusion.

?Sean, what?re you doing?? She asked. ?Hope it?s not anything rash.?

?You call me saving your well-toned butt for the millionth time a rash action?? Sean remarked with a self-confident grin.

Alissa seemed a little taken aback by his remark. ?What were the other millions times you?d saved my butt??

?Never mind about that.? He told her. ?Just tell those Raptors to bring the rain! They?ll know what you?re talking about when you tell them. It?s a military tactic. And a darn good one if I might add.? Unlimbering the launcher from his back, he positioned the tube he had been carrying against the bike?s handlebars as he gunned the powerful street machine forward through the flaming wreckage. His sister followed him with her eyes for a moment, and then spoke clearly and distinctly into the CB.

The two planes came in low and angry at the top of the street?and did not transform as they vectored in on the rampaging Blackout. The Decepticon turned to face the oncoming human threat. As it did so it did not see the lone human buzz in underneath it, grab the launcher it was balancing on the front bars of its two-wheeled vehicle, slide the bike it was riding between both towering legs, and fire just as Blackout was preparing to bring down both oncoming aircraft.

The mini sabot rounds tore into the Decepticon?s body and limbs, melting metal, leaving behind ugly spreading lesions in the alloy. They were not serious enough to bring the robot down, but they were more than distracting enough to divert it sufficiently for the two diving fighters to have time to unleash their own missiles. Missiles that had been hastily fitted with oversized warheads.

They ripped into the glowering robot, tearing off an arm, blowing great white-hot holes in its chest and lower torso. Shrieking electronically, the mechanoid shook, wavered?and, as Sean scrambled clear, began to disintegrate.


The ladder, Frankie thought wildly as she and Mac ran toward it. If they could just reach the ladder, then what? A chance, maybe. Break open a window, disappear into the depths of the empty building, dodge and hide?let the big chunk of murder find them then!

They did not have to.

A huge hand slammed downward, digging into the roof and blocking the way between the humans and the beckoning ladder with a wall of metal. A terrible arm rose up, cannon-tipped. It fired, once, striking the section of roof just in front of Frankie and Mac. The rooftop crumbled, breaking away beneath them. Frankie and Mac felt themselves falling, falling, accompanied by broken statues. They both closed their eyes?

And hit. Hard, but not nearly as hard as they had expected. Sooner than they had expected, too. Opening their eyes, they saw that they were lying in the palm of an enormous hand. Something about the color was familiar?they looked up and found themselves gazing into the lenses of Optimus Prime.

They were falling toward the street together. Leaping from above, a furious Megatron plunged downward after them. Even if they landed in one piece, Frankie realized, they would be crushed between the ground and the colossal mass of the hurtling Decepticon.

Cradling Frankie and Mac protectively against his chest, Optimus whirled as they fell. His other arm morphed into a huge gun. A first shot missed, but the second struck home, blasting the pursuing Megatron off to the side. The leader of the Decepticons would hit the ground with tremendous force, but he would not land on them.

Extending both legs, Optimus jammed his feet into the side of the building. They ripped through successive floors of concrete and steel, slowing but not stopping the robot?s fall. When he finally struck the street, the concussion rattled every building nearby. A cloud of dust and debris geysered from the point of impact.

Landing on his feet nearby, Megatron recovered immediately from the shock of contact with the street. As he did so, Sean and his comrades appeared out of holes in the ground and began plastering the immense mechanoid?s armored body with a fusillade of mini sabot rounds. These were far from lethal?but they were distracting.

As the dust cloud cleared from the small crater Optimus?s landing had made in the street, the robot lowered one hand and uncurled his fingers. Still somehow clutching the Cube, Frankie slid off the slick metal and back onto solid ground along with Mac.

?You two would give your own lives to protect the Cube?? Optimus was quietly incredulous. ?But it is not the source of your kind?s spark.?

Frankie summoned a smile from the depths of exhaustion. ?It?s like my buddy Mac here said: we?re all in this together,? she barely managed to mumble as she wrapped both arms tightly around the softly glowing Cube.

The ground shook as Megatron came flying around the nearest building to slam into Optimus, knocking the other robot backward. ?IT?S MINE! THE CUBE IS MINE!!? Frankie and Mac whirled and half stumbled, half ran away from the renewed struggle.

Diving jets unloaded missiles at the unmissable target that was Megatron. Several punctured the layer of extreme outer armor. They slowed the giant but did not stop him as he reached for Frankie. Swinging around sharply in an arc parallel to the ground, Optimus?s leg screamed through the air above Frankie and Mac?s heads as they dove beneath it. The heavy metal limb hit Megatron hard, driving him back but not knocking him down.

?Aim the Cube at my spark!? Optimus yelled at Frankie. ?The merging will overwhelm both power sources and destroy it!?

Battling to stay on her feet, Frankie looked across at the supine mechanoid. ?But?what about you??

?DO IT NOW!? the robot thundered.

Frankie hesitated and made one last minute change of plan that she knew Optimus would hate after it had been done. With no idea what to expect, she slammed the Energon Cube straight at the center of Megatron?s chest instead. The blinding flash that resulted blew her and Mac backward as Megatron?s overloaded spark exploded. The giant straightened and stepped backward, clutching his chest. Megatron took a step forward, another backward, shuddered once?and fell.

In the sky nearby, the transformed Starscream let out a shriek of dismay, whirled, and fled. Not to any point of the terrestrial compass, but upward into the clouds and beyond, speeding toward a destination where the human-piloted F-22s that pursued him could not follow.

For the first time in a long while, quiet descended on the city?s southern suburbs.

END OF CHAPTER NINETEEN

Epilogue

Emerging from the wreckage that until that afternoon had been a bustling Southside city street, Sean searched the rubble until he found Alissa. Brother and sister regarded each other for a long moment, then hands rose up. The smack of a loud high five being exchanged echoed across the devastated street. Both siblings smiled.

?Guess this makes the millionth time you saved my butt.? Alissa said.

?And a million more to come, I bet.? Sean uttered.

Elsewhere, Ratchet and Ironhide came trundling up another street in search for their leader. The lifeless, sparkless Jazz lay cradled in Ironhide?s arms. Gently, he set his brave fellow robot down on the ruined pavement. Bending low, Optimus studied the metal corpse. Nothing was said, no words were spoken, no communication exchanged?not even electronically. It was not necessary. Each of them felt the appropriate words without having to speak them. The moment was shared.

Turning away, Optimus walked the few steps to where a deep crater had been gouged out of the main avenue. A shape lay in the bottom, crumpled, broken, and inert. Megatron.

?You left me no choice?Brother. For the Energon to be dealt with, one of us had to die. I was willing for it to be me.? He pivoted. ?Better it was you.?

A much smaller shape approached tentatively, leaned forward to peer into the crater, and then straightened to consider the standing robot. ?All I remember is a bright light and being picked up and dumped across the street. What happened to the Cube?? Frankie inquired hesitantly.

?It is destroyed,? Optimus told her.

Frankie looked up at the giant. ?I?m sorry. I was afraid something bad might happen if I put it in you. You guys needed it to go home and bring your world back to life.?

?Without the Cube, there is no going back. That purpose is ended now. That home is closed to us.? The enormous, gleaming metal head tilted downward to meet her gaze. ?Our home must be here now. Among your kind. Among humans?and friends of your imagination.? And with that, he bowed, the entire immense upper body inclining in Frankie?s direction until it was directly over her and parallel to the surface. To her considerable credit, Frankie held her ground as tons of metal hovered just over her head.

?I owe you my life,? Optimus Prime told her. ?Humans do not always think rationally, but you can think fast. I did not anticipate what you did.? Straightening, he looked toward the crater. ?Neither, thankfully for all, did Megatron. We are all of us in your debt.? Gathering around him, the surviving robots formed a towering circle of glistening metal. Emulating their leader, they also bowed toward Frankie Foster. Looking upward, she turned a slow circle to regard each of them in turn. The sight was impressive, inspiring, almost overwhelming to the emotional Frankie.

?Aww, you guys,? she muttered, wiping away a single tear.


It was a lovely clear day in the capital. In a downtown office, the secretary of defense of the United States stood at one end of a long conference table and regarded the individuals seated before him. Their expressions were expectant, their attention absolute.

?In an effort to limit awareness of the extent of the situation and its true import, the president has ordered Sector Seven to be dissolved and the remains of the deceased aliens to be secretly disposed of. He and his administration will take the heat for what will officially be called ?a civilian-military experiment gone bad.? There will be a storm of questions from the media. Given that ?alien invasion? is among the least likely explanations to be believed, we think it should be possible to manage the consequent fallout. Public relations-wise, containment will not be perfect, but I am assured that it can be spun.?

Turning, he indicated a wall screen. It showed the bow of a huge freighter surrounded by escort vessels. As the remote camera looked on, the twisted, gnarled remains of lifeless Decepticons were pushed through an open railing and over the side of the ship, to disappear beneath white-topped waves.

?To prevent any chance of unforeseeable environmental fallout resulting from possible degradation of the, uh, bodies, they are being dumped into the Laurentian Abyss. At the disposal point it is seven miles to the sea bottom?the deepest point in any of the oceans.?


It was a party at the backyard of the Foster?s mansion, as several friends of the house, from Frankie Foster herself to Blooregard Q. Kazoo, celebrated their victory over the foiled alien invasion plot orchestrated by the Decepticons. In the center of it all was a beautifully restored and refinished Camaro, gleaming like new thanks to the combined efforts of the handiest mechanics in town and the expertise of the small but quick-witted Jackie Khones. Humming from Bumblebee?s stereo to make the festivities more thrilling was a song by Linkin Park tilted ?What I?ve Done.?

Nearby the mansion, an emergency vehicle (unoccupied by driver or passenger) sat parked on a hill crest along with a gleaming black GMC pickup truck. Both looked as out of place on the hillside as did the giant eighteen-wheeler that loomed over them.

Optimus Prime mused to himself, while gazing at the same sunset that was presently casting its magic over the Foster?s mansion. ?For now, the Decepticon legions are vanquished, and fate has yielded its reward. A new world to call?home. We live among its people now, hiding in plain sight, but watching over them in secret. Waiting. Protecting. I have been witness to their capacity for courage and sacrifice. Though internally and in many other ways we are literally worlds apart, as with us there is more to them than meets the eye.?

The odd assortment of vehicles was alone on the hill. Optimus felt safe in raising his hood?his head?slightly off the ground and aiming it skyward. With that look, and an undetectable burst of energy, a final message flashed outward toward the sky and the stars beyond.

?I am Optimus Prime, and I send this message to any survivors of my kind who may be taking refuge among other systems, other stars. You are not alone. You have a home here, among others of your kind.

?We are waiting.?


Later that evening on television, spunky blonde-haired, red-dressed reporter Erin Peterson stood before a large group of characters on the same city street where the battle between humans/Autobots and Decepticons took place. Flashing her highly noticeable, bright toothy smile, she turned to the camera and began her report.

?Erin Peterson here to ask some of the local citizens one important question: are we truly alone in this universe?? She walked towards three preadolescent boys all sharing the common name of ?Ed.? ?These three young men claim to have witnessed a tall alien robot come out of an auto shop, disguised as a sports car.?

The rather intelligent if high-strung Edd addressed the reporter. ?Well, it didn?t exactly walk in as a sports car. It was a common intergalactic, bipedal machine that looked much like it came from another plan??

Eddy, the avaricious ?leader? of the trio, quickly interrupted Edd, pushing him out of frame from the camera and looking deep into its lense. ?What my friend Double D is sayin? here, folks, is that with the services of ?D, DD, and DDY?, you can be safely assured that these alien menaces will be wiped clean off our planet. That is, with an amiable price, say in the form of two dollars.?

?We want lots of jawbreakers. Yeah.? The slow-witted Ed stated.

Erin moved away from the three boys and over to a boy named Adam Lyon and his friend Jake Spidermonkey from Charles Darwin Middle School. ?These two middle school students claimed that a pickup truck was driving all by itself near the front of their school one evening.?

?It wasn?t aliens, Miss Peterson.? Jake stated. ?It was ghosts! Ghosts possessed the truck and made it drive all by itself! We?re not being invaded! We?re being soul-reaped!?

Adam made an odd expression. ?Soul-reaped??

?Yeah, it sounded really cool in my head, so I said it out loud.? Jake said, before speaking in a deep, manly voice that opposed his usually high-pitched, almost screeching tone. ?Sooooouuuuuuulllllll-reeeeeaaaaaaappppppeeedddd!!!?

?Oh, brother.? Adam uttered.

Erin then went to another trio of characters from a camp filled with animals just like them: the carefree Brazilian spider monkey Lazlo, the level-headed Indian elephant Raj, and the albino pygmy rhino Clam. ?These noble scouts were having lunch at a local diner, as a meteorite came down and destroyed their bus. Could this somehow be connected to the aliens??

?Oh, you bet!? Lazlo excitedly exclaimed. ?It?s just like that movie with that weird blob-looking thing. I forget what the name of the movie was, but the blob creature ate everyone after escaping from its meteorite pod.?

Raj appeared to be quivering as Lazlo gave the description. ?Oh, please, Lazlo! Don?t ever talk about that movie again! It was horrible how that blob ate that man who came near the meteorite! I had nightmares for weeks!?

Erin gestured her microphone towards Clam. ?You have anything to add, little guy??

Clam looked towards the camera, smiling and waving. ?Hi, mom.?

Finally, Erin went to two kids (a boy named Billy and a girl named Mandy) who were accompanied by the Grim Reaper?who Erin just dismissed as a parent wearing an early Halloween costume. ?These three have brought further information to the table by mentioning how the meteorites were indeed pods transporting the alien robots.?

?It?s a conspiracy. The government wants us to believe it?s an experiment gone wrong, but you can?t hide the truth forever.? Mandy stated. ?It was out there once, and now it is here. And you can make certain I?ll uncover it.?

?All I knows is that George W. Bush hates metal people.? Billy stated.

?BILLY!? Grim exclaimed. ?Don?t tell da people at home dat!?

?Well, it?s gotta be true, Grim. Why else would he destroy such awesome alien robots??

?Gee. I dunno. Maybe because?THEY WERE TRYIN? TA KILL EVERYBODY!!!? Grim shouted.

?Don?t be hatin? just because you ain?t got a cool transforming power, Grim.? Billy said, which made Grim only fume even more.

After the comments made by Billy, Mandy, and Grim, Erin returned her gaze back to the camera. ?You have heard it here from the frontlines, ladies and gentlemen. Apparently, we aren?t alone. Will it be a matter of time before more of these monstrous machines come? Only time can tell. This is Erin Peterson?signing out.?

THE END

Well done. Doesn't sound like much but given my opinions on fanfics in general and Foster's fanfics in particular it's rarer than winning a Nobel Prize in literature.

Thanks, Cassini. :) I'm hoping my future Foster's fanfics will be much cooler than this one. I hope I gave the FHFIF characters enough action scenes in that last battle. I really liked writing the part where Bloo, Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco help Bumblebee take down Devastator, and also the part where Madame Foster takes on Frenzy.:bloogrin::mfoster:

I know a lot seemed a little bit unbelievable, such as Goo knowing how to hotwire computers. But I figured it was only fan fiction and whatever additional characteristics I brought into the characters would only be for this story in general. Though the thought of Goo being a computer hacker does sound interesting.:goo:

i was skimming and i can say i'll be reading this in its entirety over Thanksgiving Vacation. You are an exceptional writer, my friend.

perhaps i should type up a little fanfic of my own?

Thanks, Partymember. Hope you enjoy the story. :) And I'll read whatever fanfic you type up and post on this forum.

I loved it! :bloogrin: