tiny crow

Age 4-6, neutral/father perspective

From a very young age, it was apparent that Mikaela Banes was smart. Her father, the only parent in the picture since her mother was unfit to raise her, may have never finished high school but he wasn’t dumb. He knew that his young daughter could achieve so much more than either he or her mother ever had… if only he could make enough money to keep the little girl happy and healthy. Perhaps he was lucky in a way; Mikaela never wanted toys, clothes, or things he always imagined little girls would want. His daughter, his kind but oh-so-strange daughter, wanted broken junk, books, and food. He ends up smiling while watching her fiddle with her latest haul from the scrap heap, despite how odd a picture it makes. She didn’t always succeed in her ‘hobby’ as she would call it, but whenever she managed to turn what he thought was trash into something usable he would celebrate her successes with her. The smile on his daughter’s face was infectious.

As for himself, Mikaela’s father was a jaded man. *His own parents hadn’t been kind to him, and he’d dropped out of high school in his sophomore year to instead work wherever he could in hopes of being able to move out. He’d swore to himself that he’d never be like his parents, and every time his daughter smiled at him a part of his chest clenched tightly and reminded him of that promise. Despite that, things were hard for him. He owned an auto shop that he could barely afford to keep running. To make ends meet he would sometimes resort to less than legal means to make money. His daughter had a baby sitter for these times, of course.

That is, until one day he found his daughter, at only 4 years old, cooking lunch at the stove. In a panic, he’d removed her from it, scolding her for going near it… but she’d looked quite stubborn that time, and later on he found her doing it again, and then again until the distressed father finally understood that she could feed herself if for whatever reason he couldn’t make her lunch or dinner. It was crazy, he knew, and he knew very well that he probably shouldn’t be trusting his 4-year-old near the stove or knives. Being equally stubborn, he’d promised himself to never give her the chance to use her newfound culinary skills. He tried to be firm.

However, one day his usual babysitters weren’t available, and he had to make money soon or he wouldn’t be able to keep his auto shop open any longer. On that day he was forced to make a decision and by doing so break a promise he’d made. He brought Mikaela to the kitchen and put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the fridge.

“Mik, there’s some leftovers in this container here. Do you know how to use the microwave?”

“Yup!” She smiled at him not knowing what he was about to do, “Open container, put in microwave, beep boop time, and ding! Done!”

“You’re so smart,” He said with a ruffle to her hair even as he felt his heart clench, “Daddy’s gotta go make some money, so I’m going out for a few hours. When you get hungry…” He paused to swallow, and with it hopefully all the guilt inside him would go back down, “Put it in for a minute, then if it’s still not warm enough, put it back in for just 30 seconds more. Okay?”

Her answer was a simple, “Okay,” and he looked at her worriedly.

“Do you think you can remember that sweetheart?” He asked.

“Yup.”

He took more time telling her what not to do when home alone, like never answer the door or phone, but after a fierce hug he had to pull away finally to do what needed to be done.

After that time—though he always, always preferred having a babysitter—it no longer completely terrified him to have his daughter alone at home. The people he helped do illegal activities with never came to understand that he had a daughter, and he almost preferred it that way.

It was at 6 years old that his daughter told him about a boy she’d become friends with at school.

Sam Witwacky or something. The name didn’t matter. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t concerned about his daughter attracting the attention of boys, but he also knew his daughter well enough now that he could stay calm at this revelation. She was already so much smarter for her age, and a part of him worried she would grow up too fast, but his daughter was an odd one that always thought practically about things she wanted. If she became friends with this boy, it either meant she could gain something for this relationship… or Sam was genuinely a good kid she didn’t mind being friends with. And anyway, she’d never really talked about friends with him before, so any friend at this point was a good thing for her development socially.

It surprised him how easily he got over the fact that Sam was a boy. He even met the boy along with his parents. They were an honest and good family, the kind that he wished for himself. He and the Witwicky parents grew to have a pleasant relationship over the next year, especially he and Ron who could bond over their love of cars. He not only gained a new customer in his shop, but also an honest friend he could talk with. It wasn’t only cars, either. They would often gripe about the eccentricities of their kids, for better or worse.

It became apparent to the Witwicky family that despite her lacking social skills, Mikaela was a good influence on Sam. Conversely, the young girl’s father noticed that Sam was a good influence on her, and the friendship was encouraged. Sam’s teacher started leaving positive notes on his work, remarking his improved reading ability. Mikaela became much more talkative with not only her father but others as well, and spent time actually playing instead of solely on her ‘hobbies’. It was a relief to the father who always worried that she would never learn to relax and have fun or connect to others her age.

Things weren’t easy in this time, but he managed. Mikaela was happy, fed, and becoming a little more normal.

~=*=~

Age 7-14, Mikaela’s POV.

I knew from the movie that Sam had known about Mikaela since forever ago, but as the years passed a lot of the knowledge of the future kinda faded into a murky mess that barely helped. I knew the basics of what I should prepare myself for, but I didn’t have much to go on. So I focused on the things I knew I could affect. Who knows when Sam would pop up? Instead of sitting around twiddling my thumbs, I instead decided to learn myself some new skills, primarily skills related to cars and technology. It just made sense, and besides, Mikaela was supposed to know a thing or two about cars. Knowing more about technology too would be a bonus that could come in handy!

It started with simple circuits when I was a tot, which then advanced to simple electronics, and then computers. It was annoying having to slog through the books about them, but it was rewarding to have the devices come to life and then find a place somewhere in my home. Car stuff took more physical effort since my father was a little resistant to me being in the workshop, but persistence paid off in the end. At age 7 I had a basic understanding of how a car worked, and a bunch of little things about maintaining a vehicle. I also knew how to fix most simple technological devices and was working on fixing a phone so that I could, hopefully, have a means to contact people.

It was honestly a relief to just goof off and be a kid again when I finally encountered Sam in grade 1. Sure, I was a girl on a mission, but Sam was just a kid, and treating him like the teen I knew from my memories wouldn’t work out well. My dad seemed a bit wary of my friendship with Sam, at least at first, but a carefully planned encounter with Sam and his parents soon eased that wariness into acceptance. Ha. Mikaela 1, Dad 0..

It also gave me an excuse to leave the house, which I must admit I needed. In my previous life I had been fine to be left alone in one place for long periods of time, as I always had the means to entertain myself, but… I was also Mikaela, a smart girl who couldn’t stay in one place and craved attention/affection. She needed friends.

Since I was dead set on keeping an eye on Sam anyway, becoming his friend just made sense.

Time passed slowly, and I found myself relaxing compared to the intense learning schedule I’d set for myself in the time Before-Sam (aka BS). Sam’s family was more well-off than my own, so after we’d become close enough friends, we spent more time at his house than mine. Trying to encourage him to learn more about technology like myself, I tried showing him a thing or two, but he never really seemed as interested as I was. He did seem interested in my dad’s workshop the few times I showed him. He developed almost the same level of knowledge I did through sheer force of will and a doting father obsessed with cars.

Perhaps I should’ve been spending more time learning about cars if my level of knowledge is close to that of a grade-schooler…

Anyway, by the time we graduated middle school we were thick as thieves and fairly smart if our grades were anything to go by. Dad started asking the Witwicky family to watch me instead of going the babysitter route, which was okay with Sam’s parents with a few stipulations. One was that I would do homework with Sam first, and the second was that we call beforehand. This was obviously A-OK with me.

~=*=~

Mikaela’s father gets caught, Mikaela’s POV

I knew what my father did outside of the auto shop. I knew he stole cars. However, I was never brought along to these illegal escapades in this timeline, due to me demonstrating I was unusually capable and independent since a young age. Using that as my excuse, I pushed that forbidden knowledge to the edge of awareness and continued doing as I always did.

I wasn’t prepared for when my dad was caught. I was 15, not old enough to be living on my own quite yet.

I knew better than to lie to the cops. If I was caught, I’d probably end up with a record. I didn’t know what to do to help my dad or I escape trouble, but I knew I had the right to remain silent, and so I did. They tried cajoling me, lying to me, and bribing me. I didn’t say a word. I felt bad when the Witwicky family was eventually questioned. I knew some kind of bonding had happened between our fathers, and that friendship was being strained as the investigation continued. I can only imagine how Sam’s dad felt knowing the father of his son’s friend was being investigated for car theft.

I looked it up at the library. An investigation can last years. But I had to remain resilient, no matter how much I’m questioned about my father’s activities.

My father was eventually convicted despite my silence, and with that my world was shaken. I was sent to live with my aunt, who didn’t want me but didn’t turn me away. It was my only choice if I wanted to remain in Tranquility. *It wasn’t nice being treated like a burden, but I endured.

What hurt was when the honest and good Witwickys turned me away when I tried to visit Sam, using excuses such as ‘family outing’ or ‘he is busy’ to remain polite. It would take months for them to realize I had nothing to do with the car thefts. That realization, I would learn later, came when Sam sat them down to seriously talk about me and why he thought I was innocent in this. I was touched, still hurt, but touched.

~=*=~

Start of the movie

Since Sam and I were best friends by the time I was 17, I wasn’t sure if the events of the movie would happen the same. Turns out it would literally just come out of nowhere. I just came over one day to find Bumblebee chilling in the driveway and dropped everything I was holding.

“How the heck, Sam?” I gaped at him.

He puffed his chest out and leaned against his newly acquired Autobot, probably trying to look cool. I just scoffed at him good-naturedly. He said, “Nice, right? That’s 4000 dollars right there.”

“Yeah… I’m going to need to check this out first. Don’t you dare drive off before then.” I stripped to my tank top underneath my loose T-shirt and bent over to grab the stuff I dropped. When my eyes rose, I noticed him staring. I gave him a reproachful look as I passed him to set my stuff by the garage door. He straightened and I rolled my eyes. He’d been eyeing me up a lot lately, and it was honestly making me uncomfortable. He was like a brother to me, and I didn’t see him the same way he saw me. I just wasn’t sure how to broach the topic yet. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I also couldn’t let it continue obviously.

After failing to lift the hood the first time, I coaxed it open with a sweet “C’mon baby, I’ll be gentle,” and took a good hard look at the engine. Sam hovered by, somewhat familiar with the inner workings of a vehicle but a bit rusty. He tried flexing on that knowledge, to which I responded by pushing him away with a smile. “Let me work, Sam.”

Bumblebee’s engine was fine. Super fine. If I was an autophile I’d probably be drooling. I tweaked a few things that seemed off to me and closed the hood. I then went to check other things including tire pressure, and finally came to the conclusion that it was fine to ‘drive’, though a bit dirty. We both ended up cleaning Bumblebee. I went to do the insides with a host of clean cloths.

Closing the door, I smiled at the dashboard, not sure where to aim my voice if I wanted to address the Autobot. “Sam doesn’t know you’re alive, does he.”

The radio flicked on but turned off immediately as if hoping I wouldn’t notice. I huffed a laugh, “Aha! Nope. I saw that.” After a moment of silence, I picked through my words and ended up saying, “It’s alright that you are. Just… keep him safe, alright? He’s like family to me.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.”

~=*=~

Despite my words, I ended up soapy, drenched, and angrily chasing Sam across his father’s precious grass.

After changing into one of Sam’s clean shirts, we went for a drive, just to enjoy ourselves and the sweet ride he’d managed to get. I asked if I could drive, and reluctantly Sam parted with the steering wheel to let me drive. Partway through my turn driving, we noticed a police car following us. It was not especially hard considering there was barely anybody on the streets at this time. I glanced at the speedometer. “Huh. We’re going the legal limit.”

“They’re probably going the same way we are. Don’t worry,” Sam reasoned.

I frowned but tried to dismiss my paranoia. I took a few turns until we were heading back the way we came. The car behind us took the same turns too.

“Sam…” My voice sounded very worried. After that bit with the police and my dad, I didn’t feel comfortable around authority.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a bit weird,” Sam admitted, “Why don’t you pull over and we can switch seats? It’ll be quick.”

I turned the wheel gently into the side of the road and with a bit of trouble we switched places. Sam’s barely put his hands on the wheel when the car we were in suddenly bolted forward.

“That wasn’t me!” Sam yelled frantically.

“I know!”

Sam glanced at me quickly then back at the road, yelling, “What do you mean you know?!”

“I’ll explain later!” I yelled back.

We didn’t know where Bumblebee was taking us, but I knew that anywhere the ‘police car’ wasn’t, was probably a better place. The only trick was getting Sam to calm down and listen to a frankly crazy story.

“No, no, no, no, I’m too young for jail! I can’t turn the wheel!”

My best friend was using all his strength to pull the car to the side of the road. I put a hand firmly on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam… Sam! Stop fighting it, it’ll make it worse!”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Sam… I have a crazy story to tell you, but now’s not the time. That car behind us? They’re dressed up to look like a police car, but they aren’t. For one,” I turned in my seat to look behind us at the police car, looking for something before continuing, “you can barely tell, but the driver is flickering like an old TV. That ain’t normal.”

Sam also set his eyes on the rear-view mirror and squinted. Good on my word, the driver’s whole being flickered just long enough to be noticeable.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered loudly.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

Eventually it seemed we were done running from the car behind us, and we were forcefully thrown out of the Autobot. When the two cars both transformed into metal titans, I knew that now was the time to start running. I heaved myself onto my feet and dragged Sam with me.

“What… what did you mean earlier, about… a crazy story?” Sam huffed.

“Still… not the… time!” I responded, focusing on running. “Oh my god.. we’re being followed by a minicon!”

Sam didn’t know what a minicon was, but my audible alarm was enough to get him to look, only to notice Frenzy loping toward us. “Nooo… this isn’t happening… What do they want from us?!”

...

~doop de woop Chapter 16 snippet~

We hold each other’s servos and talk quietly for what feels like hours to me, and even after I pull away to stretch my legs, Bumblebee hovers by like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Fair enough, I think, considering how long I was in a coma. I just bare my denta in what feels like an awkward attempt at a smile, before attempting to focus on making my movements more graceful and natural. I feel more flustered than earlier when I was just with Ratchet and the other ‘bot. Sideswipe, is it?

Bumblebee catches me when I nearly fall again. I vent a little sharply, feeling my body temperature rise. This is embarrassing. I feel like this shouldn’t be this hard.

I don’t notice yet that Optimus is standing by, watching Bumblebee and I intently. He glances to Ratchet once and a silent conversation is had, before his optics are on us again.

It doesn’t help that there’s living organisms everywhere… in his grill, on his tires, and ugh—what is that white stuff on his windshield? He doesn’t want to know. He just wants it off. You know what, just remove him from this entire planet.

He’s miserable here, and his search for his comrades isn’t getting anywhere. If his comm among other things weren’t broken, he’d be hopefully away from here and probably have access to a shower… some wax… paint. Energon would be nice, but that’s been in short supply since the war started so that’s just a given by now.

Through alternative means he signals to another before he tears out of the paved parking lot toward an outbound road.

In his mirrors he sees a red Corvette tearing after him and scoffs at his brother’s blasphemous excitement and cheer audible through the subtle vibrations of his roaring engine. His own engine is impossibly quiet for a car of its make, but it signals his unwillingness to admit the small relief in the ludicrous speeds they move at.

~*~

Linda and I barely make it onto the road when a claw swipes at our bumper, tearing it partially from her truck and pinning us down. A sheer scream pierces my eardrums like a dagger along with the sound of tearing metal and screeching tires. I’m not even looking at the road ahead, body contorted in my seat to keep eyes on the monstrosity just meters behind us. It’s as if a fog of panic has descended on me and I don’t really know what I’m saying to Linda, just urging her to drive over and over. What else am I to say? This situation is out of my control.

As if fate is giving us a break for once, the truck manages to tear cleanly from the bumper and peels off down the road with such suddenness that we waver across the road until Linda regains control. Blessedly, a ringing silence is what I experience next as her screaming peters out. With my eyes still focused behind us, I see us gain distance, and a small relief can be felt… until our aggressor whips around in place, a swirling mass of metal that turns back into an expensive super car.

… Right. The aliens can do that. I’d almost forgotten. Though being around my babies should have prepared me for this, with the little ones also being able to transform, it wasn’t like they turned into massive vehicles that could move at tremendous speeds. My little ones were nothing like these guys. It was hard to imagine them ‘growing up’ into the humongous and sharp-edged mecha warrior chasing after me and Linda now.

The space between us and our monster is decreasing as my mind struggles to focus on solutions to this problem. Embarrassingly, I hadn’t thought that far yet. Granted, I knew what I wanted to do. I’d killed one of these aliens before. I’d instinctively felt for nearby metal (in the first case, probably pipes buried below the asphalt) and speared him right through the chassis, killing them somehow. I don’t know if I could have done that as easily with only asphalt and dirt… which is all that I have now.

I’m sweating profusely at this point and almost tearing at my dark locks with shaking hands. I feel panicked and utterly useless, reliant on Linda and her truck. I want to scream or cry in frustration as the car behind us easily reaches us, nicking us and sending us swerving again. Linda doesn’t scream, neither do I, but her whimpers are somehow clear in my mind as, in a last-ditch effort, I point my hand out the rear-view window and desperately reach for that little something again.

What I expected to be another small shockwave turns into an explosion that sends the monster—but also us—tumbling dangerously. For a second I see a beacon of light tearing into the sky, and that’s the last thing I see before the truck rolls and my head collides with something, knocking me out.

~*~

“Ray… Ray, please, oh my god. Please don’t die. Oh god. There’s so much blood.”

A hysteric laugh. “Of all things, you had to forget to wear your seat belt. I’m-“ Hic. “-I’m not going to let you live this down.”

Crying.

Static.

“Stop! Don’t come closer!”

Screaming.

~*~

When I come to, the world is different.

Human vision, while not perfect, is still pretty good compared to other living things. What I’m experiencing now is almost like… like I’m seeing more colours than there should logically be. It’s hard to describe.

Something in the air makes my ears feel funny and my hands tingle. I groan, and I notice something different about that too. When you talk there’s the sensation of air passing through the throat usually, but that’s gone now.

I push myself into a sitting position in the midst of what seems to be wreckage of some sort. I glance around, and I see dark red everywhere. It’s on almost every surface and a pool of it surrounds me. A pit forms in my stomach as I wonder what the hell happened here.

It hits me that this is the site of an accident, and then a second later an ache radiates throughout my skull as the events of before come rushing forth.

I shakily get onto my feet. Something about my weight distribution is different, and I fall over. I look at myself. I pull at my tattered clothes and examine the skin underneath. The skin is perfect, and I mean perfect. I don’t seem to have any broken bones, and the muscles are unbruised—possibly even stronger than I remember them being. I lift and drop, then lift and drop my arm a bit and notice an odd heaviness there, but not much else.

Weirded out but not seeing much to be panicked over yet, I turn to my surroundings next. Linda’s truck is gutted and almost unrecognizable. A huge swathe of the chassis is missing around where I was situated, and the front/engine is just gone, just bits and pieces where it would logically be. The bed of the truck is mostly intact, though it’s partially eaten into, and it’s how I recognize this as Linda’s.

I must be experiencing Shock, because I just stare at the mess of metal and blood for a while. I don’t know how long it is until I manage to snap out of it, finally realizing that I am alone.

~*~

Linda thought the day she died to the first monster she encountered was a bad day. She has some perspective now, to say the least.

Her muscles burn and her body feels like lead as she stumbles down the road in the direction they originally came from. Her comm is silent, probably broken in the crash. She’s probably walked a few miles by now, trying to reach some form of building or car. She was so, so tired, but she keeps going. The motivation of finding help is her sole driving force. It isn’t just her that needs the help, but her friend bleeding out in the crash back there. She refuses to think her friend is dead.

Her mind replays the last minutes before the car flipped. There was the sound of an explosion behind her that rippled right before she was thrown against the seatbelt. All she remembers from flipping over and over is fear and confusion. In the end, she was bruised and bleeding, but miraculously fine. However… her truck was totalled, and the door wouldn’t open and there was so much blood and in the seat next to her was-

Linda grits her teeth and swallows the bile rising in her throat. She desperately tries to stop thinking about it, telling herself to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Another couple of monsters appeared, and a titanic battle started that ignited her every instinct to leave. She couldn’t do anything for her friend here. She needed to reach somebody. Somebody human.

She’s so tired.

The sound of an engine from behind her make her blood go cold.

Please don’t be another monster, she begs silently.

A red Corvette rolls up, and a voice can be heard from its cabin through its open window. She immediately notices that no one is driving and tries to speed up, though she has no energy to spare and no chance in hell of ditching a sports car on foot.

“Hey! Hey you. Human. You need help, I’m offering it. Don’t worry, the ‘bad guy’ is dead.”

Her jaw trembles as she tries not to whimper pathetically. “Leave me alone,” she says not at all assertively.

“Hey now, don’t be like that. I know we’re a bit scary, but I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help.”

Linda is silent for a bit. She walks. The Corvette follows alongside her at a crawl. After a bit, the Corvette’s passenger door facing her opens as if to entice her.

“Come on…”

“Why do you all come after us? We didn’t do anything to you.”

The words are out before she can stop them.

“What? You mean the other guy? I don’t know why they were after you, but I sensed All-Spark energy from roughly your location before we found you. That could be why they were after you.”

Linda is confused at this supposed explanation, but mostly angry and defensive.

“So you’re not with the mon—the other guy?” Her voice trembles with emotion, though inwardly she feels just a tad relieved. It’s not enough to be at ease around the Corvette, but she feels confident enough to talk. It’s all she can do beside walk, anyway. It helps that the Corvette could’ve probably stood up and killed her by now and hasn’t.

“No,” The Corvette says simply but firmly, “Never.”

Linda actually stops at this, and though she’s filled with fear and apprehension, she considers accepting the Corvette’s help.

“My comm is broken. I can’t contact my father or brother, and my friend was bleeding out back there last I saw,” Linda says, “She needs help.”

“My brother is back there near your damaged vehicle. He won’t touch your friend, but he’ll stick around until I come back. Why don’t we go back for your friend and get you the help you need.”

At her hesitation, the red car continues, “It’ll be fast. I promise.”