First of all, I'll admit that I am relatively new to the fandom. The majority of my knowledge centers around the live action movie. So this story is written based on my interpretations of that universe. I have tried my best to keep the technical details accurate and the characters true to form. However some alterations may have occured to maintain the story's continuity and tone. So I ask that the more experienced fans go easy with their critiques. Enjoy. Chapter One It was a gorgeous Saturday night in the city. Perfect to see and be seen by cruising the main drive. A line of well-maintained automotive beauties with chrome flashing and bass thumping rolled at measured pace down the four lane drag. Guys paused to flirt with girls on the sidewalks playing hard to get, but secretly hoping to score a ride that would elevate their status. Normally Sam Witwicky would have been part of the crowd eagerly soaking up the attention. However this night he and his car were on a mission. One of intergalactic importance. The gleaming, golden Camaro with racy black stripes from grill to spoiler braked easily for the red light ahead. Sam was preoccupied trying to find his current favorite song on the satellite radio when the throaty growl of a big block engine revving in close proximity drew his attention. His dark tressed head turned to see alongside a classic Camaro from about forty years prior, its midnight blue metal flake sparkling under the streetlights. The jock behind the wheel, who couldn't have been much older than Sam's tender age of 19, flashed him a snobbish grin as he revved the motor a bit harder. Without warning, he felt the gas pedal depress at free will answering the challenge. If the hot rodder had only known the seemingly newer car was really a highly-evolved alien robot who had long ago mastered the art of street racing, he might have thought twice about offering up a match. "We don't have time, Bumblebee. You know Optimus hates when we're late," he cautioned prudently. Saying the Camaro had a mind of his own was more than understatement. The response was another mighty rev as it inched forward anticipating the green light. Sam tightened his seatbelt before lightly placing his hands on the wheel to give the appearance of driving. In actuality though Bumblebee was completely in command. He was simply along for the ride. "Alright. You're the one answering to the big guy." The two cars charged off the line with tires squealing. They weren't even through the intersection when suddenly Sam felt himself jerk forward as they instantly lost momentum. He watched the older Camaro make a solitary dash to victory mystified and glanced around for whom or what had brought Bumblebee to a screeching halt. That's when he spotted the silver Solstice sliding around the opposite corner. Slowly with a tangible sense of melancholy, Bumblebee continued on urged by the irritated honks of drivers behind them. "I'm sorry, B, but it wasn't Jazz," Sam patted the dash sympathetically. Their fallen comrade had been gone almost two years, but the Autobots were still mourning his death. It overshadowed their efforts to make a fresh start here on Earth. Sam secretly harbored his own guilt in the matter. If he had not destroyed the AllSpark, life-giving energy source of the Transformers' world Cybertron, they may have been able to reanimate Jazz. He was reassured of doing the right thing considering the dire circumstances. Thwarting world domination by the evil Decepticons certainly seemed to warrant the cube's destruction at the time. That was little comfort though when coping with unforeseen consequences like the death of a friend. The solemn moment having passed, Bumblebee shifted into high gear to make up lost time. Traffic began to thin out as they reached the industrial suburbs. Smoke stacks and chain link enclosed yards created a landscape that Sam though of being as desolate as the moon. One particular wide gate to an abandoned chemical company was open. Bumblebee eased through, crossed the rusting train tracks and slid out of sight behind the dilapidated office building. There Sam stepped from the driver's seat for the Camaro to transform into his true robotic self. The Autobots' leader had already done so and appeared somewhat peeved by the delay. "Let me guess. Another drag race," Optimus Prime's deep voice boomed dryly from the transformed Peterbilt's towering 30 foot height. "The guy needed to be put in his place," Sam offered in defense while Bumblebee shrugged apologetically. "Seems they always do." "What's up? You said it was urgent." "Yes. I received information today pertaining to a possible remnant of the AllSpark." "How can that be? It was pretty well destroyed." "Physically it was. Yet it appears Sector Seven was able to siphon and store its energy. When the agency was disbanded, the containers were turned over to a private company for research. They published a report on the world wide web about their findings this evening." "Ah. That means the Decepticons could be aware as well." "Yes. I am afraid time is of the essence. I want the two of you to scout around the company and find out what information you can. We need a clear plan when attempting to retrieve the containers. Ironhide and I will meet you when he reaches the city." Bumblebee gave a silent nod. Although his ability to speak had been restored after contact with the AllSpark, he remained one of few words. The rough, digitized sound of his voice bothered him. And old habits were hard to break, especially when they had become instinctual over so many years. He still made his thoughts and opinions clearly known through gesturing that rarely anyone misunderstood. The two Autobots transformed back into vehicle mode and Sam climbed aboard. Bumblebee's internal navigation system fed him the exact coordinates to the company's complex. Meanwhile the radio tracked police dispatch for any reports of suspicious activity. They knew Starscream and Barricade were still out there, although the two Decepticons had remained low key for the most part . No doubt plotting a way to continue their quest to control the planet. Sam realized if the enemy gained control of the AllSpark energy, they could conceivably resurrect their brethren from a watery grave. He also realized the Autobots could reanimate Jazz. "Step on it, B," he urged at the exciting thought.