Catch me if you can-

Dallas listened passively as his three digit fingers worked meticulously to find energon lines between plating and peel back the metal he needed. Too late to the main arteries, and he’d be dealing with re-refining his next fueling, and that was just never fun. Two of the relatively small, glass-like cylinders were soon filled with bright colored gel and a third was then attached to the siphon line.

“Y’aint never watched a medical officer do repairs?” He mused thoughtfully, then he answered: “We been recyclin’ fer eons. Don’t make no sense to let sumbody rust when they got a fuel pump yer brother needs-” With that, he sealed off the siphon and put the container along side the others.

“Don’t go touchin’ these, a’right?” He said before looking down to her arm. “Y’wanna make that int’a a little knife?” Both of his hands were holding up a piece of plating that simply needed a little help being separated from the micro-mesh that held it in place. 

Sophie then considered his previous question. She had watched Ratchet patch up some of the ‘Bots… once. Now that she thought about it, she really wished she had paid more attention before their secret organization got decommissioned. 

So much for being a mechanic. But there’s no use looking back now. 

Humans of Philadelphia spotted me the other day and asked me for a photo and a story. I was happy to oblige them.

“When people meet me they often ask what I do for a living. Always finding it an interesting and ultimately difficult question to answer being that I do a lot, I decided to title myself a human extraordinaire. I don’t use the term to be arrogant or braggadocious, I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I just think to be human is extraordinary. The human condition we live, the people we encounter and surround ourselves with. The myriad of technological and natural environments we can find ourselves in. Our individual journeys all so similar yet so unique. I acquired my degree in communications back in 2009 and found it difficult to find my place in the job market. So rather than try and climb that ladder, I’ve been enjoying my experience as much as I can. I travel. I meet people. I spend my time relaxed and curios. My goals aren’t always clear and my focus can be a bit scattered but I blow with the breeze and find my existence in itself rather extraordinary. Do more of what makes you happy and less of what doesn’t.”

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“So long’s I don’t rust’apart, we’re square,” Dallas replied as he wiggled a finger at her.

With his finger still in the space between them, a thought brought his attention across the way to the nearly decapitated Decepticon. Back before he knew anything about Earth or the Terran culture, the practice of scrapping obsolete ‘bots and their parts had been every-day. Why had that stopped?

Oh, right… The Autobots.

“But I think I know sum’body that can lend a hand,” he mused with a wry smile before hefting himself up and limping over to the dark metal. It was then that he started drawing small containers from seemingly nowhere and humming to himself. “So you ain’t scur’d of all this? I guess if ya’got sumkinda alloy eatin’ at yer arm… It was mighty dumb of ya to come after this fella.

If she could trade her bionic arm with a flesh one, she would. 

“You’d be surprised how unfazed I am with all this alien crap.” Sophie smirked and a shrug rolled off her shoulders. “Or maybe not.” She folded her arms across her chest as she shifted her weight to one side. As she continued to watch him extract the alloy, a curious thought suddenly flashed through her mind. One that she was surprised she hadn’t inquired before.

Dallas listened passively as his three digit fingers worked meticulously to find energon lines between plating and peel back the metal he needed. Too late to the main arteries, and he’d be dealing with re-refining his next fueling, and that was just never fun. Two of the relatively small, glass-like cylinders were soon filled with bright colored gel and a third was then attached to the siphon line.

“Y’aint never watched a medical officer do repairs?” He mused thoughtfully, then he answered: “We been recyclin’ fer eons. Don’t make no sense to let sumbody rust when they got a fuel pump yer brother needs-” With that, he sealed off the siphon and put the container along side the others.

“Don’t go touchin’ these, a’right?” He said before looking down to her arm. “Y’wanna make that int’a a little knife?” Both of his hands were holding up a piece of plating that simply needed a little help being separated from the micro-mesh that held it in place. 

Today’s microfashion

“Ya’d go outta yer way t’ fiddle wit’ repairs?” He asked almost genuinely, ignoring the warnings and settling on his knees. This way at least, he only had to hunch over a little bit to keep from towering. “N’less you got sum’kinda hookup. I used m’ last repair kit, an’ I ain’t got a fancy Base t’ go back to.” 

If she worked with NEST, she was certainly used to the best Optimus had to offer.

So she shrugs, prolonging the pause of silence until an adequate enough answer presented itself.

“Before shit hit the fan, I used to work at an auto shop. I may have some contacts there who could lend me the tools. I can’t say much about the metal though.” Transformium, as KSI would like to call it. Recalling that particular company, they probably still had a supply of the metal somewhere in their labs. Wherever that is. 

“So long’s I don’t rust’apart, we’re square,” Dallas replied as he wiggled a finger at her.

With his finger still in the space between them, a thought brought his attention across the way to the nearly decapitated Decepticon. Back before he knew anything about Earth or the Terran culture, the practice of scrapping obsolete ‘bots and their parts had been every-day. Why had that stopped?

Oh, right... The Autobots.

“But I think I know sum’body that can lend a hand,” he mused with a wry smile before hefting himself up and limping over to the dark metal. It was then that he started drawing small containers from seemingly nowhere and humming to himself. “So you ain’t scur’d of all this? I guess if ya’got sumkinda alloy eatin’ at yer arm... It was mighty dumb of ya to come after this fella.

Thud.

That was pretty embarrassing. 

For a good moment, she just glared down at him with a raised brow. Her composure failed her as the corner of her lips twitched to an amused smirk. She covered her mouth with her fist, stifling a laugh. 

“Ya’d go outta yer way t’ fiddle wit’ repairs?” He asked almost genuinely, ignoring the warnings and settling on his knees. This way at least, he only had to hunch over a little bit to keep from towering. “N’less you got sum’kinda hookup. I used m’ last repair kit, an’ I ain’t got a fancy Base t’ go back to.” 

If she worked with NEST, she was certainly used to the best Optimus had to offer.

So she was a rouge too, obviously for different reasons, but they both had common enemies it seemed. A warning flashed on his HUD of the damage to his leg and with a curt motion, the gun barrel was swung away from Sophie and he sat there looking at her a moment longer.

Thud.