Transformers Intiation of the Facsimile Edit:I noticed, Alot of people used 'Rise of the...' in the titles of there post ROTF stories. So I changed mine to Intiation Note:This is a post ROTF story. I didnt want to call it Transformers 3 because I saw that title tossed around a few times. I've taken my favorite aspects and characters from various generations and incarnations of transformers and molded them into this fic that I have had so much fun working on. So far the only original characters I've introduced, is the humans. But I'm going to toss in a few original Transformers. I hope you all enjoy my take on a few of the themes and characters Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers, but I love collecting them and writing about them. Chapter 1 Caleb Caleb had always been a rebel without a cause. He just didn't like conformity, and the US of A was chalked full of conservatives and squares with red tape in excess. Needless to say, he was more then stoked when the government could no longer hide the alien robot infestation that the internet masses had already suspected. Even subscribers of the acclaimed therealeffingdeal.com, a very respectable internet publication, had viewed undeniable footage of one such alien in action out in China. So when the Decepticons came out publicly, skeptics like Caleb were less then surprised, and that much more disappointed in his government. But with the outing of the Transformers Caleb knew things in his life were destined to get interesting. To bad he was horribly mistaken. Seemed like these 'Transformers' were everywhere, except were he wanted them to be. It didn't matter if they were Autobot or Decepticon, Caleb had to have one. Ok, so you couldn’t HAVE a transformer, pre-say, but he could be-friend one at the very least. But sadly, in the months that followed the very public battle in Egypt, it was all about military restructuring and crap. All the Autobot's, including even more new arrivals, were busy strengthening treaties with the US government. Meanwhile every single piece of construction equipment, for fear of being a Constructicon, was put under super surveillance, and the remaining Decepticons (if there were any) disappeared under deep cover. There was no way an 18 year old high school drop out was going to find one of these illustrious creatures, unless he became a political diplomat or military officer over night. Not going to happen. He thought to himself. Caleb was a good looking young man… though his parents were not. In all actuality he considered them to be quite trashy. Neither of which could hold a job for any longer than a few weeks. His mother was a pill popper and his father an alcoholic. Neither of which gave much consideration for personal hygiene or the well being of there son, but this never really bothered Caleb. Both of his parents were Caucasian, what with blue eyes and blond hair. Yet his skin was considerably darker, and he had brown eyes and dark hair. There was no doubt in Caleb's mind that one of his parents was in-fact not. He really couldn't complain about his parent's lack of motivation or compassion. They kept a roof over his head (just barely) and taught him how to fend for himself at an early age, traits that would carry over to adulthood quiet well. Plus they didn't hassle him whenever he took off for long periods of time, like he did earlier this morning. He met up with his friend Kip at there usual hang out spot behind the scrap yard in Poe-dunk Hanford California. Having figured he'd find something to keep him occupied all night, Caleb dressed rather nicely today: a pair of baggy jeans, formfitting t-shirt underneath a once very expensive biker jacket, and a pair of clean Timberlands. Ensuring that he didn't sully his clothes, he joined his greasy looking friend on the old faded loveseat that they kept nestled along the tin sided fence of the scrap yard. Kip had an outdated boom-box balanced on top of some milk crates; he tore his attention away from the news broadcast to fish a Steel Reserve from his pack and tossed it to Caleb. It was barely noon, and the beer was kind of warm, but Caleb wasn't one to pass up anything free, so he cracked open the large can, took a swig and settled in. "What's going on?" he asked, nodding toward the radio and it's 'breaking news' cast. "More Robots" Kip responded in his thick southern accent. Kip's voice always amused Caleb, he was born and raised in the Central valley, but he sounded like his was from Alabama. "More…? What kind?" Caleb asked half interestedly. "New kind." Kip responded and Caleb instantly crew interested, he sat up and leaned in toward Kip to get all the details. "They say that there was more then just the Autobot's and Decepticon's. Use ta be a bunch of different kind’o dem ‘Transformers’, an one’o dem, some bad ass s.o.b, showed up sometime this morning." Kip explained quickly before returning his attention back to the radio. "Her name is Black Arachnia and according to the Autobot report, this Cybertronian terrorist is a Predacon, a Cybertronian faction that had strong ties to the Decepticons. As a Predacon this transformer will take on the appearance of not a machine, but an animal. Authorities are asking all citizens in the Central California region to remain calm and vigilante, keep all out door activities and travel to a minimum, and do not approach or handle any animals that you don't personally know. Autobot's will be teaming with local authorities in an attempt to find this terrorist, they have reason to believe that she is in possession of highly valuable Decepticon equipment, and is to be considered armed and dangerous." "Whatever. Like anything cool like that would happen here." Caleb said as he hopped to his feet and killed the rest of his beer, spiking the empty can into the dirt like a football player who just made a touch down. "But they said it was here in the Valley." Kip reminded him. "Yeah right. It's a huge valley; she wasn’t anywhere near here. I bet she was just passing through, heading toward LA or Nevada." Caleb shot back as he retrieved a plastic bag from behind the coach. The bag was full of spray cans, which he flung over the fence into the scrap yard, then sprang off the coach and over the fence as well. Kip cut the radio off and followed. A few meters from where the boys hopped into the scrap yard, a huge Bullmastiff lying next to his makeshift dog house, perked his head up, and let out a deep growl at the boys. "Give it a rest loser." Caleb snapped at the massive canine, which whimpered in defeat and lay back down. With cans in hand, the boys maneuvered around a few large stacks of rubbish until they came onto there project, a large wall of crushed cars, converted into a wall for which the boys had an enormous mural in the works. The mural was composed of vibrant colors and rich detail, it depicted a war… the Cybertronian war, with numerous transformers, some famous, some not; all battling one another. Though the majority of the image was complete, the boys had a few details to treat, and without so much as a word, they went to work right away. Once they got started painting, they became so involved in there work, that they hadn't even noticed a few subtle changes in the surrounding environment. Two mint condition late 80's model Trans Am's sat parked tightly between to heaps of rusting scraps. The Trans Am's just happened to be facing the Mural and the boys that were painting it. One was a Glossy Fog Gray the other Tuxedo Black. Both had factory decals and black rims, T-Tops, limo tint on the glass, and neither looked like they had ever been driven. While Kip touched up the boarders, Caleb added some extra detail to a particular part of the mural; it was a Decepticon shooting his laser pistol point blank into the chest of an Autobot. Caleb sprayed a few strokes of yellow and white, to accent the sparks that were shooting off of the blast victim. As he did so a muffled chuckle rang out smartly from behind him. Caleb stopped and turned to find no one but the two Trans Am's. He had not noticed them before and was instantly curious. "Whoa, those are new." Kip gushed, as he investigated what Caleb had become distracted by. "Please don't stop." A voice came from the boy's flank, startling them. “We enjoy your work." A young woman said as she stepped in from stage left, casually walking in front of the two cars, and coming to a rest against the hood of the black one. She was young, but older then Caleb and Kip, maybe 20 or 21. She was rough around the edges, tall and slender, yet curvaceous. Despite the wicked horizontal scar she had trailing across her forehead, just above her brow, she was quiet the bombshell. "Look lady, we've been painting here for weeks, we were never chased away so we figured nobody really cared…" Caleb began to explain. "Relax, I don't work here… just hiding out." The girl interrupted. She then pushed off the car, and walked past Caleb to get a closer look at the mural. "You definitely have got some talent. But I think it's your vision that appeals to us the most." She commented, lost deep in thought at the magnificence of the painting. When she paused, Caleb stepped around her, and gave her the once over. She was wearing black knee high boots that looked like they weren’t designed fore a lot of walking, especially on the uneven surface of the scrap yard. She had very short daisy duke style cut off jeans, a deep pink tank top under an unzipped black mini hoodie. Her thighs were thick and toned, her waist narrow, and her curves were… well rounded. Her skin was pale, and her straight blonde hair hung to the small of her back. Her swagger was strange, a bit eccentric yet still sexy and tough. Her demeanor was seductive and aggressive, her eyes looked sharp and aware, and her fist and seen there fair share of action… this was evident by the tiny scars that littered them. Caleb felt less like he was looking at a hot babe and more like he was looking into a cloudy crystal ball. He saw in this woman… a little of himself, but more so he saw the kind of girl he new he was destined to be with. Realizing they were alike, Caleb softened his guard, but did not drop it completely. “Why the fascination with these machines?” she asked Caleb, ignoring Kip who was dazed and confused behind them. “There from out of this world,” Caleb responded without thinking. “Maybe they can help me escape this one.” “I feel ya…” the girl chuckled, “Why would anybody want to stay on this awful planet?” She asked rhetorically as she reached out and stroked the painting in front of her with her index finger. “You seem to have a preference.” She called back, gesturing to the Decepticon killing his Autobot adversary in the mural. “I want to be with them. But the Autobot’s have more humans around then they know what to do with. So I figure I’d have better luck getting with a Decepticon.” Caleb replied. “Hmmm” Was all she said, thoughtfully. “Then tell me… why would you be such a valued asset to the Decepticons?” She asked enthusiastically. “What?” “C’mon, you gotta sell yourself, if you want a Decepticon to take you under there wings.” This girl seemed easy to get along with, almost too easy. “I’m a native to this planet, and I want to be involved with this ‘conflict’, who better to help them in there cause.” “What’s your name kid?” She asked, inching closer to Caleb. “Caleb.” He said, facing her almost defiantly. “Caleb, the future human/Decepticon mercenary, I like the way you think.” “Uh… thanks. But who the hell ARE you?” “Sandra, THE human/Decepticon mercenary…” She said as she extended her hand to Caleb. Caleb chuckled and turned back to Kip who chuckled behind him at the girl’s self proclamation. “What’s so funny?” Sandra asked as she dropped her hand. “Hey babe, if you’re a ‘human/Decepticon’ what’cha call-it… then tells me where to sign up, because I’ve been trying for months” Caleb said as he mockingly laughed at the girl. “Well you don’t really apply for the position; you sort of get picked for it.” She explained nonchalantly. “So a Decipticon picked you…?” Caleb asked sarcastically erupting into more laughter. “That’s right.” “Do you think they would pick me?” Caleb teased. “Ask ‘em yourself.” Sandra said as she slowly backed away from the boys and towards the Trans Am’s. “What d’ya say boys is he facsimile material?” In response to Sandra’s question… a metallic sound echoed, in stereo, through out the yard. The two Pontiacs exploded into action, splintering at the seams, folding in on themselves, raising and turning, spinning and sliding. Various slabs of metal and fenders peeled back, tires tucked in, and mechanisms reshaped. By the time Caleb realized what was happening, the Trans Am’s transformation was complete.