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Pairing: (platonic) Tim Bradford x fem!Cybertronian!reader
Summary: While assisting Tim and Lucy in a street racing sting, you're abducted by Decepticons. Tim challenges Optimus's leadership and learns that his experience with war won't help the Autobots... or you.
Warnings: vague TFP spoiler (Starscream related), angst, r is abducted by Decepticons, canon-typical stuff, fluff
Word Count: 6.0k+ words
A/N: Here's a list of Transformers anatomy terms!
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“Morning,” Lucy greets after roll call. “How’s… everything?”
“Everything’s fine,” Tim answers flatly. “What do you want?”
Lucy’s eyes widen in shock, and she raises her hand to her chest. “What makes you think I want something?”
“Because you’re not subtle.”
“I am very subtle,” she argues. “And I was just trying to be friendly.”
“Well, I’m your TO, not your friend.”
“Sorry,” Lucy mumbles.
Tim crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the back of the shop. Lucy shrugs one shoulder and steps toward the passenger-side door, but Tim doesn’t move.
“Fine,” she sighs. “I have a favor I wanted to ask.”
“You want to borrow my car,” Tim guesses. His brows lift when he says my, and Lucy’s shoulders drop in surprise at how easily he read her.
“I… How’d you know?”
“You didn’t ask how I was, so you weren’t trying to butter me up for anything.”
“Would she-”
Lucy stops when Tim gestures toward his body cam. She nods once and walks away to get into the shop. It’s one thing to know about the existence of sentient robots disguised as cars. Still, it’s another to actually talk about them. Particularly when in a crowded police station or while on camera. You and your friends have a secret to keep, a war to fight, and jobs to do, so Tim and Lucy will do everything they can to help and to ensure that your identities – and your existence - remain undiscovered.
“Makes you look twice at every nice car you see, though, doesn’t it?” Lucy asks as Tim shifts the shop into drive.
“Every single one,” he agrees.
“7-Adam-100, switch to channel 3,” Nell requests over the radio.
“Copy,” Tim replies. He turns the dial, then asks, “What’ve you got for me?”
“The last three nights we’ve had consistent complaints of drag racing along Sierra Bonita Avenue north of Olympic,” Nell explains. “Calls start about 9 p.m. Sergeant Grey asked me to find a unit to post there tonight.”
Tim glances at Lucy, who nods emphatically. “We’ll take it,” Tim answers. “Any other details?”
“Several callers have mentioned a dark grey or black Ferrari, model unclear.”
“Got it. Thanks, Nell.”
“Want to check the area out first, find a place to post?” Lucy inquires.
“I do,” Tim answers distractedly. He’s been sitting at the same stop sign for over a minute without traffic blocking his route.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks, leaning forward to follow Tim’s eyeline.
“Don’t see many Mid-Wilshire residents park their trailers and off-road vehicles in the street,” Tim says, pointing to an unhitched trailer.
“Maybe they’re leaving with it soon.”
“No cars in the driveway… But maybe.”
“Want me to run the plate on the trailer?” Lucy offers.
“No, no reason to. Let’s look for actual lawbreaking.”
“Wow. Pull that straight out of an episode of Miami Vice? Should I get you some sunglasses to push up the next time you deliver a line like that?”
“You do know I can still have you fired, right?”
“I know.”
“Whoa,” you murmur, looking up from Ratchet’s computer screen. “What happened to you?”
“You should see the other guy,” Arcee replies.
You raise your digits toward her scraped chest plate and dented mouthpiece, but don’t touch her. Shaking your head, you drop your arm and wonder what you’ve gotten into. It’s been years since you lost your way home, and every day you defend Earth, you see that the dangers don’t stop with the Decepticons. Seeing one of your own injured is never easy, but knowing Arcee was alone on patrol last night makes you feel nearly as guilty as you are concerned.
“How many?” Optimus asks.
“Just two sightings today,” Arcee answers. “I heard chatter of a race tonight.”
“Which means the Stunticons will be there,” you interject. “I think Wildrider is in town.”
“What makes you say that?” Ratchet asks, scanning Arcee’s damage.
“Somebody’s radio was manually scanning fourteen frequencies at once,” you explain. “I can’t think of anyone else with that kind of energy.”
“Racing is the reward, not the finish line,” Bumblebee quotes.
“I didn’t get a clear location,” Arcee says, understanding Bee’s question. “Somewhere near a park, but it isn’t their first race.”
Optimus looks at you, and you nod once in understanding. Being a guardian is an important duty, but it’s usually a one-way relationship. You protect someone who needs to be protected, maybe they give you friendship or help navigating earth customs, but nothing more. Your guardianship is less typical. Because Tim Bradford is a police officer, he can help in ways no one else can.
“If the police know, Soundwave will too,” you remind your team.
“I can handle Soundwave,” Ironhide assures you, pressing his servos together.
“We’re not looking for a fight,” Optimus interrupts. “Not tonight. Let’s keep these people safe, and we’ll wage war for Cybertron when the time is right.”
“Yes, sir,” you answer with your comrades, teammates, friends.
Transforming into your alt mode, you adjust your radio to listen for Decepticon transmissions, but they’re smart. Soundwave has gotten better at disguising their conversations since you fought Barricade.
“C’mon, Wildride,” you murmur under the rev of your engine. “Where’d that hyper desire for adventure go?”
“We’ll be back,” Tim assures Wade as he and Lucy exit the station at the end of their shift.
“Where are we going?” Lucy asks. “To get dinner? Please tell me it’s to get dinner.”
“We’re going to get some intel about our street racers.”
Lucy gasps, her smile widening as she asks, “Sparks?”
“You don’t have to come.”
“Uh, yes I do!”
Tim shakes his head as Lucy climbs into the passenger seat of his truck. You sent him a text earlier – something he really wants to ask about, though he knows it isn’t the top priority – and asked him to meet you after hours at his friend’s automotive shop.
Tim pulls into the open garage bay, and Lucy is out of the truck and standing beside your pristine, shiny red alt mode Mustang body before the door begins to rattle closed.
“Thanks for coming,” you say before you transform.
Rather than standing at full height, you lower onto the garage floor and smile at Tim and Lucy. There’s still a sense of awe in their expressions when they look at you, and you’ve grown to care deeply for both of them.
“You said you had information,” Tim reminds you, slipping his hands in his pockets.
“Wait, you talk to each other?” Lucy clarifies. “How?”
“My friend Ratchet has a gift for technology,” you answer. “Figured a text would be safer than broadcasting my voice over a police scanner.”
“Probably best,” Tim agrees.
“There’s a street race happening tonight,” you begin.
“On Sierra Bonita,” Tim finishes, his brows lifting. “How do you know… Decepticons?”
“Right. There could be civilians racing, too, I have no way of knowing. There’s one ‘con, who may be there though…”
“Dangerous?” Lucy guesses.
“Incredibly. His alt mode is a Ferrari 308 GTB.”
“He’s been at the other races,” Tim interrupts. “911 callers reported a dark colored Ferrari every night for the last week.”
“Sounds like Wildrider,” you agree. “He can drive over 200 miles an hour, he’s got maneuverability and control that even I’m a little envious of, and that’s not even the worst part of it. He’s got a scattershot gun that shoots lasers a quarter mile.”
“If he does that in the middle of Mid-Wilshire, hundreds of people could be injured,” Lucy comments.
“He likes the carnage he causes driving,” you add. “There is one good part. He’s reckless, overactive, overeager, and he causes his own tires to fail constantly.”
“Even if he takes himself out of the race, he’s a liability,” Tim says. “We can’t handle a race and a laser-shooting alien.”
“Sounds like one of the bad earth movies Jazz liked,” you murmur.
“See?!” Lucy exclaims, lifting both hands toward you.
“Any idea how many cars have been racing?” you inquire.
“Three or four, based on the 911 calls,” Tim answers.
“A group that small has to be all Decepticons.”
“Who else could be there?”
“Well… Wildbreak, Dragstrip, Slashmark, and Wildrider would be my first guesses. They’re Stunticons, a sub-faction of ‘cons that can combine.”
“What kind of vehicles are they?” Lucy asks.
“Their alt modes? Wildbreak is a sports car, Dragstrip is a 6-wheeled race car – I think that’s what you’d call it, and Slashmark is a red, blue, and gray off-road vehicle.” You lower to look at Tim and Lucy before you add, “Do not cross Slashmark.”
“We have to stop these races,” Tim argues.
“You stop bad drivers!” you exclaim, standing. “These ‘cons are the drivers! They won’t hesitate to hurt you- to kill you, and you can’t stop them!”
“We have to do something,” Lucy says softly.
“Then stay out of the way and let us do our jobs.”
Tim clenches his jaw, but he understands where you’re coming from. You’re a born protector, a guardian, and you’re lashing out at them from a place of concern and care.
“Fine,” Tim agrees. “But we’ll be close. If that race starts, we’ll have to step in and stop it.”
You sigh, shifting your pedes on the concrete beneath you. “Fine. Use your spike strips and then get people out of our way.”
Tim gestures for Lucy to return to the truck, then leans against a large metal toolbox, waiting for you to calm down.
“I’m sorry,” you offer after several minutes of pacing.
“I get it,” he assures you. “But you’re putting yourself and your friends in danger by going out in public.”
“What else can we do?”
“Tell me how to get the Decepticons to reveal themselves, and we’ll call in people who can subdue them.”
You bark a laugh, then shake your head. “If your government finds out about the ‘cons, they’ll start looking for more, for us. You can’t get involved in this fight, Tim.”
Tim nods slowly. “Then we’ll keep civilians out of your way, but you’ll have to act fast.”
After transforming into your Mustang alt mode, you rev the engine and say, “Fast is kind of our thing.”
Your tires squeal, blowing black smoke behind you before you lurch out of the garage and into the Los Angeles dusk.
“What’d she say?” Lucy asks when Tim starts his truck.
“We’ve got new orders,” he answers.
Tucked between two inconspicuous cars parked alongside Sierra Bonita Avenue, Tim and Lucy wait in an unmarked cruiser.
“Heads up,” Tim alerts as a yellow Camaro drives by. “Friendly.”
“That’s two of ours, then,” Lucy muses. “Where are the others?”
“Waiting, stalling, not coming,” Tim lists. “Who knows.”
“Incoming,” someone says over the radio.
Tim looks up in time to see a large truck hauling the trailer and off-road vehicle he and Lucy saw earlier. Slashmark, he realizes now.
“Should’ve run that plate,” Lucy mumbles.
“Who’s hauling him?” Tim asks.
The vehicle backs off the trailer as the truck rolls to a stop, then pulls away without anyone the wiser to what has happened. A moment later, vehicles matching your description of Dragstrip and Wildride arrive and park beside Slashmark.
“They’ll wait until the road is clear, right?” Lucy inquires.
“Unlikely,” Tim replies. “She said Wildride likes the carnage. These are obstacles to them, a way to make the race more exciting.”
“They should’ve sent the big guy,” Lucy says. “The big guy is an Autobot, right?”
“Optimus? Yeah.”
“You met him?!” Lucy yells, causing Tim to turn away from her. “That’s so not fair!”
“I’ve met most of them,” Tim responds.
“Shut up, you’re the worst.”
“They’re doing something,” Tim alerts.
He and Lucy lean toward the dash, watching Bumblebee back slowly across the road, his hazard lights on and his horn sounding every few seconds.
“What is he doing?” Lucy murmurs.
“Drawing attention,” Tim realizes.
Cars in both north and southbound lanes begin slowing, letting the Camaro do whatever he’s doing. Some drivers blow their horns, others yell out their windows, but most sit patiently, watching in curiosity. You pull out of a small loop at the northern end of the road and approach the Decepticons where they wait by the intersection of Sierra Bonita and 8th Street.
“No race tonight, boys” you communicate. “Head out to the desert, plenty of room to run there.”
Wildride lurches toward you, but your brake lights remain steady as you stay in place.
“You’re not in charge, bot,” Slashmark seethes, his voice dripping in disdain for you and your kind.
“Maybe not, but I’m calling the shots tonight. Road’s closed.”
“Is it?” Dragstrip asks.
You don’t hear Bee’s horn turn from measured beeps to a steady honk - a warning - until you’ve been blocked in. The truck that brought Slashmark stops directly behind you. Wildride and Dragstrip pull forward to pin you in as Slashmark transforms to sit higher on his destructive wheels - the tires you demanded Tim avoid.
“If there’s no race,” Slashmark begins. “Maybe we need something else to bide our time.”
Bumblebee turns his flashers off, steers into a wide arc, and begins cutting in and out of traffic as you send a distress signal. By the time he reaches the end of the road, you’re gone, and the Decepticons are out of sight.
Sirens echo behind Bee, and he waits at the intersection for Tim to pull up beside him. Lucy exits the passenger seat and slides into Bumblebee’s driver seat.
“What happened?” she asks, running her hand over Bumblebee’s shaking steering wheel.
“Calling all Autobots,” Optimus calls over the radio. “The Decepticons have captured one of our own… Sparks has been taken.”
Lucy looks over at Tim through the rolled-down windows, their wide eyes meeting before Bumblebee turns onto 8th Street and leads Tim toward the warehouse where Optimus and the rest of the Autobots are waiting, the lights and sirens doing little to quiet Tim’s racing thoughts.
“What have you done?” Ironhide demands as Tim enters the warehouse. He left the cruiser outside, but as Bumblebee transforms to stand above Lucy, he desperately wishes you were here with them. Tim lost you, let his guardian be taken for a simple street racing sting, and if you are injured – or worse – he will never forgive himself.
“Where would they take her?” Tim asks.
“Slashmark, Wildride, Dragstrip, and Wildbreak are not your typical Cybertronians,” Ratchet explains. “They work for Megatron, but they have strong wills, they do what they want, how and when they want to do it. If he isn’t aware of the joyrides, there is no telling where they may take her.”
“And if he does know?” Arcee continues. “They’ll offer her up to their lord as a sacrifice.”
“Can’t you trace her?” Lucy asks. “She contacted Tim, shouldn’t it work the other way?”
“We can,” Ironhide answers. “It seems to me that the two of you have done more than enough.”
“It is not your fault,” Optimus soothes. “But Ironhide is right, this is not your fight. Go back to your lives.”
“She’s my guardian,” Tim argues. “I’m not leaving while she’s in trouble.”
“We will find Sparks. There is nothing you can do now but go about your life as if nothing has changed. Should we find something tonight, Ratchet will contact you.”
“Is this how you did things on your planet?” Tim questions harshly. “Push people away when things get hard?”
“No people to push away,” Arcee reminds him. “You’re a liability right now, not an asset.”
“We’re cops,” Lucy counters. “Finding people, and cars, is what we do.”
“Then look for her during your patrol tomorrow,” Ironhide grumbles. “But get out of our way tonight.”
Tim shakes his head as Lucy nods. They will listen, not because they want to or agree but because Optimus is right. There is nothing they can do in this battle they are barely beginning to understand.
“I’m sorry,” Tim offers over his shoulder.
“You and me both, kid,” Bumblebee replies.
Tim and Lucy drive away from the secluded warehouse silently, each thinking about you, the Decepticons they saw tonight, and where you could be.
“We’re going to do something, right?” Lucy asks after several miles pass in a blur.
“Of course we are. She’s saved my life more than once, and I’m not going to sit back and let her lose hers.”
“We could offer up Barricade,” Arcee suggests.
“What’s left of him, you mean,” Ratchet replies. “He’s in stasis. His coming out of it intact is a question, not a given.”
“So, we have no cards to play,” Ironhide translates. “That’s great.”
“Playing their game has never been our way,” Optimus reminds him. “Finding Sparks is the priority.”
“I can trace her signal, try to get an idea of where earth’s Energon levels are highest,” Ratchet offers. “They wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“Walking into a trap,” Arcee muses.
“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Ironhide adds.
“Sparks is a fighter,” Optimus says. “Wherever she is, she’ll be trying to reach us, too.”
“Why do we fall?” Bumblebee plays.
The others silence at his reminder that if they fail, they’ll lose another soldier, another friend, another member of the family. As Autobots, they’re used to fighting as long and as hard as they have to for the right thing. Losing you might be the thing to push them over the edge.
“I’ve got a hit on the Energon trace,” Ratchet announces softly. “I’m counting six Sparks… one of them is weakening.”
“Will she survive the night?” Optimus asks, ever the voice of reason, even as his skirt plates snap into place for battle.
“She will.”
“Where?”
“Moving in a canyon east of where she was taken.”
“As long as they’re moving, we’re at a disadvantage,” Arcee mumbles.
“We’ll wait until they stop, preferably until morning,” Optimus decides. “Autobots, remain ready to roll out. This fight is neither for Earth nor Cybertron, but for us.”
Bumblebee flexes his cables and quotes, “Let’s kick his-”
You groan, your vents tightening with every small movement. Everything hurts, and you stretch your servos out before hissing in pain. Your visor is broken, but your helm is in place. Running your glossa along your intake, you’re surprised that your face plate and the receptors and sensors inside are intact and operating appropriately.
Slowly, you pry your optics open. The world around you is blurry at first, but as your surroundings come into focus and sensors begin making sense of what you see, you realize that you’re a few miles from the place where you were taken. The sun rises over the hills around you, but your radio crackles uselessly. Your chassis and bipedalism cord send a fire-like pain along your plating that you’ve never felt before. Though you’re in your alt mode, you can feel every piece and part of your body begging for relief.
Turning your tires, you know immediately that you’re stuck. Wrapped around a wooden pole holding up electrical lines, you look like the aftermath of a bad accident more than the victim of Decepticon torture.
“Calling all Autobots,” you stutter out.
“Hold on, Sparks,” someone answers before your radio crackles again and silences.
Smoke puffs from your tank and your exhaust, and you try to remain calm and ignore the pain threatening to render you unconscious. Time passes slowly but strangely, and the sun peeks over the hills before the first car appears on the road behind you. Hopefully, at the least, they’ll call the police, and Ratchet will intercept the notification.
“Sparks!”
“Ratchet?” you ask, prying your optics open once more.
“Oh,” he murmurs, transforming to walk around you. “Don’t move.”
“No problem,” you reply. “Thanks for coming.”
“My scrapes and dents don’t seem so bad now, huh?” Arcee asks gently.
“Still worried about you.”
“Of course you are.”
“Bee, send a message to Optimus,” Ratchet requests. “We need this road closed. And a way back to the warehouse.”
Bee chirps in reply, steps into your view, and does exactly what Ratchet asked, his bright blue optics steady on you and full of fear.
“Bradford, you look terrible,” Wade says, stepping out of his office.
“Thank you, sir,” Tim replies. “Just didn’t sleep very well. I’m feeling perfectly fine, though.”
“Good. Head to your house; dispatch just got a call about an illegally parked semi. I don’t need to know if you know the driver or if it’s yours, but it needs to be moved forthwith.”
“Yes, sir,” Tim answers, suddenly wide awake. “Chen, let’s go!”
Lucy follows him, struggling to keep up as he runs to the shop. “What’s the rush?”
“Semi parked illegally outside my house.”
Lucy’s eyes widen as she buckles her seatbelt, and they both allow their hopes to rise as Tim navigates the morning rush of Los Angeles.
Tim parks behind Optimus, turns his body camera off, and leaves it in the seat. Lucy does the same, then walks to the passenger door of Optimus’s big rig alt mode.
“Your laws discriminate vehicles based on size,” Optimus muses as he pulls forward.
“I’m hoping that the joke means there’s good news,” Lucy replies.
“We’ve located Sparks.”
“How is she? Where is she?” Tim asks quickly.
Optimus doesn’t answer, and Tim swears he can feel his heart in his throat as he swallows.
“Mr. Prime,” Lucy begins.
“You have work to do, no?” Optimus interrupts. “Perhaps you should focus on that until I have a solid answer for you.”
“How are we supposed to focus?” Tim snaps. “Is she alive?”
“She is,” Optimus answers. “At least for now. I only came to tell you, and now I must go.”
“Where?” Lucy asks.
“To assist my team in her recovery.”
“Then I’m coming too,” Tim says, reaching for the seatbelt.
“Not an option.”
“Grey will want to know where we are,” Lucy reminds Tim. “We’re still on shift.”
“And I need to move before I get a ticket,” Optimus adds. “Trust me, Tim.”
“Is… Okay. Fine.”
Tim opens the door and stands in the middle of his street to watch Optimus leave. After he rounds the corner and approaches a main road, Tim returns to the shop. Lucy knows it will be a long day and prepares to deal with Tim taking his fear and frustration out on her.
“Where was the off-road- Slashmark when we saw him yesterday?” Tim asks.
“Neighborhood a few miles east of the station,” Lucy answers. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to find him,” Tim answers, pulling the gear shift down into drive before he radios to check in.
“The boys in blue are here!” Bumblebee exclaims.
You hum, feeling your entire body rattling. Bee chirps, inching closer to you. He’s been lying beside you, trying to distract you from Ratchet’s prodding and pulling. You’re close to Bumblebee, more like brother and sister than teammates, and you appreciate his concern and willingness to stay at your side during such a trying time.
“Sparks,” Optimus sighs, slowing behind you. “Ratchet, how bad is it?”
“Slashmark did extreme damage to her chest plate, chassis, back strut, and thigh guard. And that was before they… wrapped her around the pole.”
“What if she just transformed?” Arcee suggests.
Ratchet hesitates before he asks, “Can you feel your T-Cog?”
“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I’m willing to try anything, Ratchet.”
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Give me a second.”
He scans your frame again, then runs his digits over the slashes carved into the metal of your body. You hear him kneel, feel the ground shake slightly, and barely manage to swallow your cry of pain when he touches your fuel lines, moving Energon rather than petroleum fuel.
“Ratchet, give us some good news,” Ironhide pleads. “You’re gonna be alright, Sparks,” he adds.
“Your lines are twisted,” Ratchet explains. “Give me a second to right them, and then you can try to transform. But only if you’re sure. Don’t take the risk if you don’t think you can do it.”
You nod, and Bumblebee looks up to communicate your answer. His eyes are steady on yours as Ratchet pulls your tangled fuel lines apart, sending white-hot pain through your metal joints. If only you were like Earth’s idea of robots, feeling no pain and serving a less noble purpose, you think.
“Sorry,” Ratchet says before he stands. “Slowly, whenever you’re ready.”
You activate your t-cog to transform, first pulling your doors forward. Each movement takes longer than usual, and you can hear the damaged metal scraping against your paint as you pull your pieces into place. When your chassis shifts and your pelvis slides into place, you stumble back, away from the pole. Ironhide steps behind you and catches you, his servos against your back plate as the rest of your friends surge forward to assist you.
“Where’s Tim?” you ask, lowering onto the bumper of the dry van trailer Optimus brought to transport you in.
“He and Lucy went back to work,” Optimus answers. “They’re safe.”
Your optics open and you push yourself to stand without thinking about the pain. “He’s going to look for the ‘cons from last night, we have to stop them.”
“He’s not that dumb,” Arcee counters. Her optical ridge lifts as she adds, “Is he?”
“I’ll send him a message,” Ratchet says. “But only if you get in the trailer and prepare for treatment.”
“Right,” you sigh. “Thank you, all of you.”
“Roll out,” Optimus instructs as you lie down in the 53-foot-long trailer and feel Ratchet pull a cord across your ankle guard to stop you from moving too much. Optimus is a good driver, but each little shake of the trailer worsens your pain, so before the first turn, you close your optics and dream of Cybertron.
“Trailer is owned by Benjamin Peterson, who is apparently a law-abiding citizen and a backer of the blue,” Lucy reads. “So, if we can’t move in for the trailer, what do we do?”
“We have reason to believe the trailer has been stolen,” Tim reminds her.
“But we can’t prove that Slashmark isn’t Peterson’s,” Lucy argues. “I don’t want to remind you that we were temporary but unknowing owners of a Decepticon.”
“Why are you making this so hard?” Tim demands, turning toward Lucy. “One of our own was taken because of this thing, and you want to make excuses for why we should leave it here and let it happen again?”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Lucy replies, keeping her voice level because she knows Tim isn’t mad at her. “But if we rush in because we’re mad, we could make this much worse than it already is.”
Tim’s phone buzzes, and he shakes his head as he lifts it from the center console. “Ratchet,” he tells Lucy. “Said they’re taking Sparks back to the warehouse and we need to get away from Slashmark.”
“It’s almost lunch, we could go see her,” Lucy suggests.
Looking up, Tim’s eyes widen before something crashes into the front bumper of the shop.
“Go, drive!” Lucy yells, gripping the door and the side of her seat as she pushes back into her seat.
Tim pulls the gear shift down, presses the gas pedal to the floor, and looks over his shoulder to reverse down the street. Lucy hits the switch for the lights and sirens, then yelps in surprise when Tim moves one hand off the wheel and uses the other to steer into a J-turn. Without slowing, he pulls the gear shift up again and drives forward, turning onto a main road.
“What was that?” Lucy asks, her voice high and terrified.
“Slashmark,” Tim answers. “And he’s still behind us.”
Lucy turns in her seat and watches Slashmark chase them.
“I’m going to slow down in a mile,” Tim says. “I need you to tuck and roll, then come up with an excuse about why I’m driving a wrecked shop.”
“What? No! I’m not leaving you.”
“I have to get him out of the city, but I can’t exactly stop and ask him to take it out back, can I, Chen?”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“7-Adam-100, check-in,” Wade radios. “System shows your body cams are off.”
“Sir, this is Officer Chen, our body cams were damaged.”
“Both of them?” Wade asks.
Lucy stares at the wide slash mark spanning the hood of the shop and answers, “Yes, sir.”
“Divert back to the station then.”
“Um…”
Tim pulls the radio out of Lucy’s hand and says, “Sir, I’m going to ask you to trust me for a few hours. We’ll be back later.”
Before Wade can reply, Tim turns the radio off.
“We need a new ride,” he tells Lucy.
“Like that one?” Lucy asks, pointing to a large black truck merging in front of them.
Tim accelerates, pulling into the left lane until he’s beside Ironhide. The driver’s door disappears, and the metal extends from the bottom of the door in a makeshift ramp.
“Chen, go,” Tim demands.
“What about you?” she asks, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“I’m right behind you. Go!”
Lucy crawls out of the shop’s window, steps onto the ramp, and jumps into the driver’s seat. Ironhide transforms his door and then speeds up. Tim pulls into the lane behind him, keeping a distance between the shop and Slashmark. When Ironhide turns onto a long, dead-end street separating businesses, Tim accelerates to drive beside Ironhide’s passenger door. Just as Lucy had, he climbs through the window and enters Ironhide. With Tim seated and his door back in place, Ironhide steers into a U-turn and drives through a dirt lot.
Tim and Lucy cover their ears when a sound like metal crushing fills Ironhide’s cab.
“Hope you weren’t attached to that car,” Ironhide grumbles.
Tim and Lucy look in the side mirrors, their eyes widening when they see the remains of their shop in the middle of the road and Slashmark nowhere to be seen.
“How’s Sparks?” Lucy asks Ironhide.
“The truth?”
“Please,” Tim replies.
“Not good.”
“Did that hurt?” Ratchet asks, stopping with a tool poised over your mid-section plating.
“No, it felt amazing,” you joke. “It’s fine, Ratchet, do what you need to do.”
Your view of the warehouse ceiling is suddenly blocked by a paint swatch, and you watch it sparkle in the light as Bumblebee leans toward you.
“Closer,” you hum. “It looks too red. Darker, maybe.”
Bee chirps, pulls the swatch away, and tries again to find the perfect paint color for you. Your paint is the least of your worries now, but Bee wanted to help, and Ratchet was grumpy enough without having someone hovering while he worked. Ironhide left to find Slashmark, and Arcee is covering the evidence that anyone ran into the pole in the desert. Your family didn’t hesitate to jump to action for you, and you’ve never been more grateful for them.
“It will be an ambush,” Optimus says.
“No doubt,” Bee agrees.
“They assumed you’d be angry – maybe even that I’d be dead,” you reply. “Only reason they sent the transmission, asked to meet.”
“Which I traced, but Soundwave has a sense of humor and it’s not a real place,” Ratchet complains.
“How are you feeling?” Optimus asks.
“Much better,” you reply.
He steps into your vision, looming above you from your position on Ratchet’s medical table.
“You’re not any better at lying,” he chides.
“I’ll be fine,” you amend. “Thank you.”
Ironhide’s engine revs as he enters the warehouse, and you smile up at Optimus.
“Always one to make an entrance,” he murmurs.
“Found some hitchhikers,” Ironhide announces, his doors opening.
Before you can speak, Tim and Lucy are at your side, gazing wide-eyed at the damage.
“Come here often?” you joke.
“Tell me you’re going to do something about this,” Tim says to Optimus.
“Are you okay?” Lucy asks you softly.
You nod, listening to Optimus explain why you must choose your battles. Tim is angry, his emotions urge him to be vindictive, and you understand. But you also know that retaliation and revenge are useless and dangerous when it comes to Decepticons.
“It’s been handled,” you interrupt.
“Then why did Slashmark just total my shop?!” Tim demands.
“If you’re here for any reason other than to check on your guardian,” Optimus begins, “save it for another time.”
Tim looks at you, and his eyes soften. He’s been worried about you all night, and when you wink your optic, he shakes his head and chuckles.
“You’re alright?” he asks.
“I will be. Thank you.”
Ratchet pulls a cable near your spark, and you grip the metal table beneath you tightly as air rushes into your vents. Suddenly, the pain lessens, and you sit up, despite Ratchet’s warnings against doing so.
“I remember something,” you offer. “Wildride mentioned that Starscream left his wing in the canyon. I thought it was a metaphor or something, but what if it was literal? He’s tried undermining Megatron before… If Starscream found something in the desert to use against Earth, we could use it against the ‘cons.”
“They said he left his wing? Not lost,” Ratchet clarifies.
“Right.”
“I can scan the area for Energon, try to locate a minimal amount.”
“Worth trying,” Arcee adds.
You stretch your arms over your head and twist, sighing at the relief you feel. The weld marks and scars spanning your frame will soon be covered by paint, but they’ll always be there.
“You’re missing something,” Optimus muses.
“I am?” you mutter, looking for a missing piece in your armor.
Optimus places an Autobot insignia on your chest plate, and you smile at him in thanks. When you stand, Bumblebee steps forward and hugs you tightly.
“I know, Bee,” you soothe, patting his back. “I was scared too.”
Optimus places his servo on your shoulder, and covers Bee’s too, before he speaks.
“Our fight to safeguard Earth from the threats of the Decepticons continues, but may we never forget that our own people have beliefs and freedoms to be guarded. To Sparks.”
“To Sparks!” your friends exclaim.
“To Sparks,” Tim adds, smiling up at you.
Bumblebee offers Tim a paint sample, and he holds it up to the light.
“Perfect,” Lucy says.
“Oh, we’re in trouble,” Lucy mumbles as Tim enters the station lot.
Sergeant Grey is standing by the door, his arms crossed, and a stern look on his face to accompany the lecture to come.
“Good luck,” you whisper, shifting into park for them.
“Are the Autobots hiring, if this doesn’t go well?” Tim deadpans.
“Only if you’re willing to be paid in joyrides and Energon.”
Lucy steps out of the car first, an apology ready. Tim walks around your front bumper and stops in front of Wade.
“You’re alive,” Wade says.
“Yes, sir,” Tim answers.
“And you didn’t think to let anyone know. Just left the mangled shop in a heap on the road.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Wade raises his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing the tightening muscle there as he sighs.
“Sergeant Grey,” Lucy begins.
“I don’t want to know,” he interrupts, moving his hand off his neck and raising it toward Lucy. “I trust the two of you. More than I should, maybe. So, I’m going to write this off. You’re going to get another shop – which you will not wreck – and we’ll move on.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tim says. “We appreciate the confidence.”
“Yeah… Whose car is this?”
Lucy smiles at Tim after Wade steps between them to look at the dark red, slightly sparkly Mustang.
“Friend of mine,” Tim answers.
“A beauty,” Wade muses, rounding the front.
Your right blinker winks and Tim glances at Lucy knowingly.
“5.2-liter engine?” Wade inquires.
“Predator V8,” Tim answers.
Wade whistles, and he shakes his head as he says, “What I’d give for one of these.”
You wink again, and Tim offers, “If you want to borrow her for a date night or something, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Her?” Wade repeats. “Never took you for a car guy, Bradford.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Lucy interjects, smiling as she pats your hood.
Pairing: (platonic) Tim Bradford x fem!Cybertronian!reader
Summary: Tim and Lucy experience a number of glitches with their new shop. When Tim loses control of the wheel, he and Lucy learn that they've become involved in a fight that is not their own. You save their lives and gain yourself a new position in the process.
A/N: Here's a list of Transformers anatomy terms (in case my fight scene is confusing)!
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
“Good morning,” Wade greets as he enters roll call. “Does anyone know what today is?”
“Another day in paradise,” Smitty answers, drawing chuckles from a few other officers.
“I’m not sure why you’re laughing,” Wade deadpans. “You signed up to do this job and to enjoy it.”
“Right, yeah,” Smitty agrees. “It’s great.”
Wade shakes his head and continues, “Today is the day patrol gets new shops.”
Several officers cheer, and Wade smiles as he moves behind the podium.
“Motor pool has your specific assignments,” Wade says. “The city spent a lot of money, a lot of tax dollars, on these new cars. Wreck one without a very good reason and it’s coming out of pay, and probably your pension.”
“Sir, I thought the budget committee only approved replacing half of the shops,” Nolan interjects.
“That’s correct. Patrol is our priority in this; improve response times, safety records, everything the public likes to see. So, if you’re in this room and going on patrol today, you’re getting a new ride.”
Aaron raises his hand, and Wade says, “It better be about protocol and not the make and model of the cars, Hollywood.”
“Oh, yeah, I don’t care about that,” Aaron replies. “I just wanted to know if the speakers are stock.”
“You’re a cop, Thorsen,” Tim snaps. “Not going for a joy ride.”
“Who says patrol has to be boring?” he counters.
“Me,” Tim and Nyla say together.
Aaron lifts his hand in surrender but whispers to Lucy that they should play their shared playlist.
“Absolutely not,” Tim interrupts. “You’re rookies, you have no power.”
“Focus,” Wade says. “Enjoy the new shops but stay alert. You have a job to do; the cars are supposed to make it easier, not be a distraction.”
“Yes, sir,” the officers reply before standing and approaching the garage to find their new shops.
“Peace,” the radio crackles. “Through tyranny.”
“What?” Lucy asks, leaning forward to look through the front seat at Tim.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replies. “Hearing voices, Chen?”
“Ha, ha,” she deadpans, sliding into the brand-new passenger seat. “What do you think?”
“It’s a shop,” Tim says. “It hasn’t been puked in yet. I give it two days.”
“Is the glass ever half full?”
“The glass is going to get broken no matter how much is in it.”
“Wow,” Lucy murmurs.
Tim shifts into drive, and as he and Lucy leave in their new shops, they have no idea that their car is a clichéd bad cop.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Lucy recites. “Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights?”
“Yeah,” the handcuffed woman replies. “Silence is… metal. I don’t need it.”
“Is she too drunk to lawfully accept her rights, boot?” Tim asks from the curb.
“Intoxication doesn’t invalidate a Miranda waiver if it’s made knowingly, intelligently, and voluntarily,” she answers. “But her behavior can imply her waiver.”
“So, what’s the move in this situation?”
“She’s voluntarily responding, so her response is valid.”
Tim nods once but raises his hand to stop Lucy from placing the drunk driver in the shop. “Ask if she needs to puke.”
“What?” Lucy questions.
“She pukes in that shop and you’re cleaning it up.”
“Oh, right,” Lucy murmurs.
Tim opens the driver's door while she speaks to the woman about how she’s feeling. The radio lights up briefly, and a static noise reminiscent of someone speaking fills the car's interior before the light dims. Tim watches the radio for a moment, and after Lucy places the woman in the back and slides into the passenger seat, she follows his gaze.
“Want to listen to Make Da Noise?” she asks.
“What? No,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “Just thought I saw something.”
The noise was unintelligible to Tim, but he ensured the radio remained off the rest of the day. He didn’t anticipate being the one to find a problem with a new shop, yet as he leaves after riding in it all day, he hesitates to get in his own truck. There’s something wrong with that car, he thinks as he drives away from the station.
The following morning, Tim convinces himself that the radio coming on was a glitch. Maybe the motor pool guys jostled a wire, or the radio controls were somehow moved. Attempting to ignore the odd occurrences of the day before, he begins his shift with Lucy talking excitedly about her upcoming date.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“About what?” Tim replies.
“My date! Were you even listening?”
“No.”
Lucy sighs, and Tim slows to park against the curb. As he nears the sidewalk, the lights and sirens turn on. Lucy reaches forward to turn them off as Tim opens his door to apologize to the innocent civilians startled by the sudden noise.
“Sorry about that,” he calls. “Just a malfunction with the switch. Chen, turn it off.”
“I’m trying,” Lucy defends as she attempts to flip the switch. “It’s stuck.”
Tim reaches across the wheel and pushes the switch until it finally drops and the sirens silence. He then turns the lights off, sighing as he relaxes his arm.
“I hate this shop,” he mutters.
The driver seat slides forward, and Tim jerks back out of the door and into the road just before it slams into the driver’s seat.
“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, her eyes wide.
“We’re getting a new shop,” Tim says, stepping out of traffic. “Right now.”
“Did you lock the seat after you moved it?”
“Chen,” Tim snaps. “Seats don’t lurch forward while a car is parked. There is something wrong with this shop.”
“That’s a bit dramatic,” she replies lightly. “It’s new. There are bound to be some glitches while we get used to it.”
Tim grumbles under his breath, but she’s right. Not that he’ll say it aloud. He’s a few glitches away from demanding his old shop back. As he slides the seat back into place, Tim decides to ask Nyla if her shop has had any glitches.
“Any plans this weekend?” Angela asks.
“I’m going on a date,” Lucy replies. “Tim’s going to a game.”
“How’s the new shop?” Tim inquires.
Angela shrugs and says, “It’s a car.”
Lucy looks at Tim as she raises her cup to take a drink. Tim hasn’t complained about the car over the last two days, but with only a few more hours left before their scheduled time off, he seems to be thinking about it again.
“Why?” Aaron wonders. “Your car got a little Christine thing goin’ on?”
“Of course not,” Tim replies, shaking his head.
“Wait, you know what Christine is?” Lucy asks.
Tim glances at Lucy with a look she knows means stop talking. He then adds, “Just a few little glitches at first. I’m sure they’ll work themselves out.”
Angela is about to inquire what kind of glitches they’ve experienced, but she’s interrupted by a speeding car swerving in and out of traffic as it passes.
“Let’s go, boot!” Tim demands as he stands.
Lucy says, “Bye!” and follows Tim to the shop. She slides into the passenger seat and buckles her seatbelt as Tim hits the lights and sirens. He catches up to the incredibly conspicuous purple Lamborghini and requests that she run the plate.
“Stolen,” she reads. “From a customization shop in Thousand Oaks.”
Tim speeds up, following the Lamborghini around a corner. He slams on the brakes, stopping mere inches behind the now-parked car. It’s still running, but the driver is escaping down an alley. Tim swings his door open and sprints down the alley, failing to notice Lucy isn’t behind him.
She pulls her door handle, but the door doesn’t budge. Knocking her shoulder against the side of the door frame proves pointless, too. Looking out the windshield, she sees Tim has caught up with the suspect and is attempting to get him on the ground.
“Come on,” she mutters, trying to hold the lock up and open the door simultaneously.
With no other choice, she pushes up into her seat and carefully climbs over the console to exit through Tim’s door. She’s out of breath from fighting with the door, and Tim pulls the cuffed man onto his feet when she reaches them.
“Thanks for the assist, boot!” Tim exclaims. “What was that?”
“The door wouldn’t open,” Lucy defends. She exhales and amends, “I’m sorry, Officer Bradford. I couldn’t get out of the shop quick enough to assist. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right about that. Get this guy in the back.”
Lucy takes the man’s arm and recites his Miranda rights as she leads him to the shop. The back door opens without problem, and she places the man in the backseat. Rounding the front of the car, she stops.
“What now?” Tim sighs.
“I thought I heard someone talking,” she answers, stepping closer to the hood.
“It’s our perp,” Tim says. “He’s singing. Again.”
Looking up, she sees the man in the car singing. Loudly. But that’s not what she heard. Granted, she doesn’t know what she heard.
Tim walks past Lucy and pulls the passenger side door open effortlessly. “Find a better excuse next time.”
Sliding into her seat, Lucy looks at the dash and thinks, Why do you hate us?
In an abandoned warehouse, a yellow Camaro and a Mustang so red it looks black sit parked together. A small light on their dashboards is the only sign that the cars run. But no one is close enough to worry about them, even think about them. And certainly not near enough to hear them speak to one another.
“You don’t need proof when you have instinct,” Bumblebee quotes.
“We need something, Bee,” you answer over the radio. “I heard Decepticons. I’ve felt them.”
Bumblebee doesn’t reply, listening to every soundwave in the city for a sign that what you’re saying is true. Not because he doesn’t believe you, but because if there’s a Decepticon invasion, he needs to call in reinforcements.
“Nada,” he says.
“Thanks for trying, Bee,” you respond. “I’m going for a drive. Be safe.”
He answers in Cybertronian, and you laugh as you spin your rear tires. With a sharp squeal of your wheels, you lurch forward and drive out of the warehouse and onto the crowded streets of Los Angeles. Earth is much different than your home, and the traffic that keeps you from embracing the open road is your least favourite part of waiting here, amongst the stars.
You pass a car with several children screaming in the backseat, not bothering to slow as you move back over. In your time on this planet, you’ve learned to understand the nuances of humans and the cars they make. One thing that took you a while to notice was the difference between humans being silly and a Decepticon invasion. Now, you can glide in and out of traffic as if you’re on rails without worrying about every person you see or the vehicles they’re in.
Slowing as you approach a yield sign, you hear the same buzzing sound you heard earlier this week. Now, it’s closer, and getting louder.
“There aren’t any calls right now,” Lucy says. “This is weird.”
“It’s a lull,” Tim replies. “When they start again, you’ll miss this.”
“Bradford,” Wade says over the radio. It cuts out before he continues.
“Grey, 7-Adam-100 responding,” Tim replies.
Nothing happens, and Tim passes the radio to Lucy. The light ahead turns yellow, but Tim is too close to the intersection to stop safely. He goes through before the light turns red. Down a side street, a dark Mustang is waiting to turn, and as they pass it, Tim loses control of the shop.
You tune out the Decepticon frequency and try to forget about your worries. Bumblebee checked and didn’t find anything, so you must be picking something else up. A police car approaches, and you prepare to turn behind them once the road clears. Then, time seems to slow as it drives past. You can see through the paint job to the alt form beneath.
The motto, “To Punish and Enslave,” is written on the door, and you recognize Barricade even without hearing his Decepticon radio transmission. Accelerating, you turn behind him, your rear tires spinning out before you pull into the lane directly behind him.
Barricade swerves into the oncoming lane to pass another car, and you go into the lane on the right to keep up with him. As you try to get beside him, you see not one but two humans sitting in his front seat. Barricade would never work with the police, or upstanding humans of any occupation, so your assumption that the officers are hostages seems justifiable.
“Autobots,” you radio. “I’m pursing Decepticon Barricade.” You add your current location and request your friends do what they can.
Barricade moves toward you, and you hit the brakes long enough to drift behind him and pull to his other side. You can see the driver desperately attempting to regain control of the car. It’s pointless, so as you pursue Barricade, you hatch a plan to save the humans within.
“Tim!” Lucy yells, clutching her seat as the car slides around a corner.
“I’m trying!” Tim replies, his voice strained as he pulls the steering wheel to the left and steps repeatedly on the brake. “I can’t do anything!”
“Then maybe stop trying!”
Tim glances at Lucy, who looks as scared as he feels. Taking her advice – for once – he lets go of the wheel. It continues spinning as the car stays on the road, fleeing from the Mustang they passed nearly three miles ago.
“What is happening?” Lucy asks, leaning away from the dash.
“It’s the car,” Tim answers, shifting his hips to retrieve his phone. “Those weren’t glitches.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Christine is fiction!”
“Look around, Chen!” Tim snaps.
His phone lights up, but the screen is covered in gray and purple streaks, unusable for calling for help. With the radio out, they have no choice but to find their own way out of this.
“What is the other car doing?” he asks, looking in the rearview.
“Chasing us, I think,” Lucy answers.
“I think- I think they’re trying to help,” Tim adds quietly.
At that, the car speeds up, racing toward a brick wall. Lucy yells, but Tim is transfixed by the Mustang moving behind them. He can’t see a driver, although that’s not the foremost thought in his mind. As they near the end of the road, the Mustang accelerates, pulling to the passenger side of the shop. It rams into the shop, hitting beside the rear wheel to execute a nearly perfect PIT manoeuvre. The Mustang falls back as the shop spins, but Tim’s relief is short-lived.
You slow after knocking Barricade off his course. As he spins, he transforms, pulling his wheels and doors into place as chest plates around his human hostages as he lunges toward you. Transforming, you stay close to the ground and reach for his cadulens. Attempting to be mindful of the scared people inside, you fight Barricade. Swinging your arm, you knock him off balance. Bumblebee speaks to another Autobot through your radio, but you switch to a different frequency.
“10-13,” a dispatcher says. “Officers Bradford and Chen last reported at…”
You can see the officers clinging to the metal around them, and something like relief flashes in their eyes at the sound of the radio before you are pushed to the ground by Barricade.
“Give up, Barricade!” you demand.
He drives a metal shard into your side plating and you grunt before raising your leg and flipping him.
“Die, Autobot!” he replies gruffly.
You rip a metal spike from a nearby fence and drag it across his exposed chassis beneath his chest plate, pinning his right arm to the pavement as you damage his paint and mar the metal beneath.
“For your sake,” he seethes, pushing against you, “I hope that was an accident.”
“Let the humans go,” you demand.
Barricade pushes you up, and you barely catch yourself as he surges toward you again. Clasping your servos together, you twist your entire body, aiming for his helm. He attempts to drive his digits into your optics, but you move faster, and the momentum of your movement knocks him off balance. Barricade crashes to the ground, and you watch his face plate for any sign that he’s faking being down.
You approach Barricade, knocking your heel strut against his skirt plates. He doesn’t react, so you lower onto the asphalt and rip his chest plate apart. The officers jump out without hesitation, panting. The female officer lays her hands on the ground as the male officer looks up at you.
You smile behind your face plate and ask, “Need a ride?”
“I… I don’t know,” the woman replies.
“What’s your name?” the man asks.
You hesitate, then offer, “You can call me Sparks.”
Turning slowly, you show the sparkles in your paint reflect the sun - the origin of your nickname. That, and how quickly you’ve been known to shove a sharp metal instrument into your foes in the heat of battle.
“I’m Tim,” he says. “This is Lucy.”
“Why did you help us?” Lucy inquires, standing.
“That’s Barricade,” you respond, pointing to your unconscious foe. “He’s a Decepticon. They’re from the same place as I am, but they conquered my planet. Their goal is universal domination.”
“And who are you?”
“I’m an Autobot. We’re constantly at war with them. Have been since the Cybertronian war.”
“Okay,” Lucy murmurs slowly. “So, what now?”
“I have a radio. Alert your commander that you’re safe,” you answer. “And then you’re free.”
“Thank you,” Tim says.
You transform back into your alt mode, letting the driver’s door swing open. Tim sits in the seat and uses your radio.
“This is Officer Tim Bradford, badge number 3483,” he says. “Officer Chen and I are safe.”
You offer Lucy a place to rest by opening the passenger door. She hesitates, then sits with her feet firmly on the ground outside.
“We’ll be back at the station in a few minutes,” Tim concludes.
“Should you get a ride for your partner?” you ask.
“I am not his partner,” Lucy corrects. “I’m his rookie.”
“My apologies,” you offer.
Lucy shifts to sit rightly, buckles the seatbelt, and closes the door. Tim closes the driver’s door, too, and you hum. They trust you, and you don’t want to jeopardize that.
“Who’s driving?” Tim asks.
“Up to you,” you reply.
“Okay,” he mutters, shifting into drive.
It’s unusual for you to not be in control. As your pistons fire and the wind rushes along your frame, you begin feeling the damage Barricade did. Tim passes a blue and red semi heading toward the road where you left Barricade, and you flash your headlights. He honks in reply, and you chuckle.
“Friend of yours?” Lucy asks, looking over her shoulder to see the semi.
“Yeah,” you answer. “A very good friend.”
Tim turns left, and your T-cog grinds painfully. He slows, but you don’t say anything.
“So, how do you like earth?” Lucy asks.
“It’s nice,” you say. “Much different than Cybertron.”
“How many robots are in LA?”
“More than I know of. Several of my kind.”
“You’ve been fighting an unseen war,” Lucy muses. “That’s terrifying and awesome.”
“I’ve heard Barricade’s radio communications,” you begin.
“The radio was working, talking,” Tim interjects.
“Yes. He was communicating with the other Decepticons.”
“There’s more?” Lucy exclaims. “In the department?”
“I can’t be sure of that without seeing them.”
“Would you?” Tim inquires. “See if there are more?”
“Of course. I can identify any others, and offer any information you may need about Barricade.”
“How do we file a report for this?” Lucy asks Tim.
“This is the one time in your policing career that I am going to say this,” he prefaces. “We lie.”
Lucy nods in understanding as Tim parks in a visitor’s spot. He closes the door carefully, then runs a finger along a deep scratch in your paint. Black and white paint chips are embedded in a few new dents along your hood, and he surveys them carefully.
“Are you okay?” Tim whispers.
You hum, rattling softly beneath his touch. He nods, pats your side window, and walks into the station. Lucy rushes back a moment later and says, “Stay. Please.”
Tim exits the station a few hours later, dressed in civvies and carrying a bag. You’ve spoken to Bumblebee and a few other Autobots about what happened but haven’t heard Barricade’s fate or condition yet. Tim lowers into your passenger seat, carefully setting his bag on the floorboard.
“There’s an auto shop off Wilshire, south of here,” he says. “Can you drive there?”
“Sure,” you reply. “I found no other signs of Decepticons in your garage.”
“Thank you.”
You drive to the auto shop in a comfortable silence. Once there, Tim tells the mechanic – clearly a friend of his by the way they greet one another – that he needs a few touch-ups. Within two hours, your paint job looks brand new, your axles are realigned, and your T-cog has been repaired. He avoided touching your Energon lines or your spark, seeming to understand that the parts you held out of reach were there for a reason.
As you drive out of the garage and thank Tim, your radio alights. Tim notices that the symbol differs from the one he saw in the shop. It’s the same badge you wear on your arm plate when you turn into a giant robot. He shakes his head at how strange this is and how unbelievable it would sound if he hadn’t witnessed it himself.
“The warehouse,” someone says through your radio.
“Of course,” you reply. “Let me drop off-”
“Bring the human.”
“Do you have plans?” you ask Tim.
“Now I do.”
Tim leans toward the wheel as you pull into a dark warehouse. Inside, there’s a yellow Camaro, a shiny motorcycle, and the red and blue semi he and Lucy saw earlier. You open the door, and he exits your alt mode before you transform, towering above him.
Tim’s eyes widen as the other vehicles follow suit, and when the red and blue semi transforms into a standing form that makes you look tiny, he steps back. The large robot lowers to look into Tim’s eyes.
“You are of stout heart,” he says.
“Thank you,” Tim murmurs.
“Sparks,” he says, standing to face you. “It seems you have found a human in need of a guardian.”
You glance at Tim. In the last few hours, you’ve grown to care about him and Lucy. But… “He can take care of himself, Optimus,” you point out.
Tim hesitates before he speaks. He would never admit it to his human friends, even Lucy, but he isn’t opposed to the idea. You saved his life today, and although you’re a sentient robot, and he still isn’t entirely convinced he isn’t dreaming, Tim interjects, “I couldn’t today. You said it yourself, there’s a war going on that we don’t even know about.”
“It’s an unofficial position,” Optimus explains. “She won’t always be there.”
“She seems to have a knack for knowing when to be.”
You smile, and Tim nods in reply.
“If you’ll have me, I’d be glad to be your guardian,” you agree. “It’s a sacred duty, and one I do not take lightly.”
“Any more questions you wanna ask?” Bumblebee quotes.
“Uh, no, sir,” Tim replies. “I’m Tim, by the way.”
“I am Optimus Prime, this is Bumblebee, Arcee, you know Sparks, and Iron Hide is around here somewhere,” Optimus introduces.
“You’re going to love him,” you whisper.
“Where’s my backup?!” Tim demands, ducking behind his new shop as a bullet flies past.
“Two minutes out,” dispatch replies.
Tim looks up just as the armed man runs toward him. He pulls his gun up, but the man fires first. Tim drops his head, readying himself to be hit. The bullet collides with something metal before it can reach him. Moving forward, Tim takes cover behind the Good Samaritan who drove between him and a bullet. He fires over the trunk and takes down the armed suspect.
Rounding the Mustang, he glances at the new bullet hole and shakes his head. Another officer pulls in with their lights on, and Tim directs them to take the shooter into custody.
“That’s an inch away from your gas tank,” Tim whispers.
“As long as my Energon isn’t leaking, it’s fine,” you reply softly. “You alright?”
“Thanks to you.”
“Kinda my job.”
Tim pats your trunk, and you pull away. Your right blinker turns on once before you go straight, and Tim shakes his head as he smiles. Lucy never should’ve taught you to wink.
Ask yourself: Are you better off than you were four years ago? Is it easier for you to go and buy things in the store than it was four years ago? Is there more or less unemployment in the country than there was four years ago? Is America as respected around the world as it was? Do you feel that our security is as safe? Are we as strong as we were four years ago?
And if you answer all those questions 'yes', why then I think your choice is very obvious to who you will vote for.
If you don't agree, if you don't think that this course we've been on for the last four years is what you'd like to see us to follow for the next four, then I could suggest another choice that you have.
So, I randomly thought of two ideas if someone would like to try and write theses for me. Both of them are based on songs. (I literally have no motivation to write anything, but I can still think of things)
Idea #1- Don't Worry Baby- Beach Boys
For the last couple of days, I've been listening to Beach Boys while cleaning the house, and this song made me stop and listen. A Tech x Reader fic based after Plan 99 would fit this perfectly. I'm already crying.
Idea #2- Daddy Cop (Rookie S05 E13)
Little backstory, my brother and I are hooked on watching The Rookie. This song is hilarious and catchy... too catchy. Anyway, definitely would love this to be a Rex x Reader. "Arrest me, make it sexy" It can be suggestive (no duh) but no full blown smut, please.
Anyway, let me know what y'all think and please tag me if you do happen to write one of these.
A smile etched across Y/n's face, her dry, cracked lips protesting in pain. She cooed, holding out her hand to the tabby cat making its way toward her, "Come here, Tiger." The brown and black striped tom cat trotted toward her, purring as he bumped his head against her outstretched fingers. Tears formed in her eyes when she felt his soft fur as she stroked the feline's head. "I missed you so much," she whispered as Tiger brushed his body along her folded legs. His bright green eyes looked at her expectantly as he greeted her, meowing. Weakly, Y/n copied his meow, twirling his tail around her hand.
Pleased that she had acknowledged him, the tabby began to walk off toward the narrow passage. He stopped at the entrance and looked behind at her, meowing impatiently. Y/n frowned, "I can't, Tiger. I can't move." Three days ago, she had lost feeling in her legs and hips. She blamed it on sitting for hours, only crawling to get to her bucket. Her legs were constantly numb, with barely any muscle left from the lack of use and nutrients. It was evident that her body was eating itself. Unbothered by her comment, Tiger continued walking deeper into Soundwave's body until he faded into the shadows.
Saddened by her pet's decision to leave her, Y/n toppled over and brought her knees to her chest. Soundless sobs wracked her body at the realization that she had another hallucination. There was no way her beloved pet would be here in her confinement. She tried to call out to Tiger in hopes of seeing him again, but only garbled sounds escaped her lips, and a string of drool trickled out. She tried to swallow but couldn't, her tongue feeling heavy like a brick. It was getting harder to breathe, along with Y/n's heart hammering in her chest as her fear continued to build. She'd never experienced anything like this before. It felt like she was passing out, like many previous times, but different. Her body would stiffen involuntarily, and her arms and legs would twitch for long periods. Flashes of colored lights danced in her vision before gradually fading into black.
Gradually, Y/n started to come to, a loud groan announcing her awakeness. Awareness returned to her body, slowly revealing pain in her limbs and neck. She felt weak along the right side of her body as her world swirled around her. The motion didn't sit right with Y/n as her stomach heaved its little contents. 'What just happened?' she thought as she tried to lift herself. She stopped as she felt something wet in her lower area, and the putrid scent of urine filled her nose. The female's arms gave away as she collapsed onto the floor. A sudden sadness filled her as Y/n placed her hand against the wall behind her. "Please," she whispered, "Help me."
She felt Soundwave move and began striding to something. She wasn't sure if he had heard her plea or if he was busy. He suddenly stopped, and Y/n heard someone talking. 'I need help.' she thought as she inched toward the metal panels. If there was someone out there, they could help her. "Hey," she called out, her voice scratchy from thirst. Y/n winced, swallowing in hopes of hydrating her voice. She landed a fist against the doors, "I'm...here!" she yelled a little louder, repeatedly slamming her fist. "Please!" she begged, "I need help." Y/n was losing strength with every blow she made. With every ounce of strength gone, she slumped against the doors, tears running down her face. Her heart felt funny as it beat against her hand. 'This is it.' The voices were gone now, and so was her chance of living. "Goodbye, Soundwave," she whispered, feeling her strength dissipate along with her failing heart.
~~
Soundwave's digits paused over the terminal's keyboard as he felt Y/n convulsing inside his compartment. It was a full minute until the quaking resided. He heard her groan as she fumbled to sit upright before his audials picked up, "Help me." The doors to his hab suit opening alerted Soundwave of the two mechs entering. The slim mech whirled around to face them, revealing a nervous Breakdown and Knockout. Soundwave towered over them within a few calculated strides, contemplating if he should tell them about Y/n.
Knockout cleared his voicebox, a human-like gesture, "Listen, Soundwave, Breakdown, and I are asking you in private about your behavior. The whole Nemesis knows that you're not yourself. It's been worrying everyone, especially Lord Megatron, over your lack of production."
Breakdown looked like he was going to add something, but the soft sound of clanging captured their attention. The three mechs stood in silence, staring at each other. "Here!" a muffled female voice announced amidst the banging noise.
The red mech drew himself up, "Soundwave, as your medic, I demand to know what is going on."
The navy mech was still before piecing together, "Help her."
"Help who, Soundwave?" Knockout coaxed.
"Y/n," Soundwave answered as he opened his panels, revealing a slumped-over human.
Knockout quickly retrieved the human, his features scrunching up in disgust at the smell and wet sensation. He was no human medic, but, in comparison between Y/n and other humans he'd seen at street races, she was in poor condition. He could barely feel her heartbeat against his sensitive servos. A sudden anger flared through his field as Knockout glared at the silent mech, "I understand that you're grieving, Soundwave, but this has gone too far! She's not a human cassette! You could've killed this girl!" As Knockout was striding out of the berthroom, Breakdown called after him, "I'll stay here to help inform Megatron of our newest arrival." Before the doors fully closed, a faint keening noise came out of Soundwave, chilling both mechs to the core. The human in Knockout's servo began to stir, "S-Sound…wave?" she mumbled before remaining still.
The doors to the med bay flew open as Knockout and a small group of Vechicons rushed inside. The red medic started to bark orders to the Vechicons as they ran around, gathering supplies. After inserting an IV line into her arm, Knockout looked toward three idle clones, "You three, go and get as many human items you can. Food, clothes, whatever. I don't care if you steal a whole house!" Startled by the medic's outburst, the three Vechicons stumbled out of the medical bay, almost falling on top of one another. Knockout sighed as he accepted a datapad from a remaining clone. "Thank you, you can go." Once the soldier left, he sat on a crate close to the med berth, scrolling through the datapad, researching what he needed to keep this human alive.
Y/n lay sprawled out near the entrance, gazing up at the ceiling, pondering what life was like outside her confinement. It's been almost two weeks, so she knew her family would be worried sick and restlessly searching for her. A pang of grief flashed through her as she thought of her three siblings returning to the picnic blanket only to find her missing. They would've run home, crying to their parents that their eldest was gone.
She groaned, rolling over onto her side as her next thought was of school. Y/n attended a local community college in her city and was planning to earn enough credits to transfer to a state-level university. A breathless laugh escaped her, "So much for that plan." All those free credits she could be earning? All gone. Stay for two years and then transfer? Nope.
Those bitter thoughts vanished when her stomach tightened in hunger. Y/n gritted her teeth until it passed, gazing at her small food storage. Soundwave hadn't been delivering food as usual, and when he remembered, it would only last for a day. Because of this occurrence, the female started to ration out her food by eating more slowly and shredding her food to look like a bigger meal. She had gotten thinner to where she could feel all her ribs, and her skin was turning into an unhealthy shade of white. Without any muscle or fat, Y/n always felt cold and weak. Her h/l h/c hair was now matted and oily, her e/c eyes framed with dark bags. Her body wasn't appreciative of the lack of nutrients, which resulted in her body flushing itself. "This isn't healthy," she stressed. For the beginning week, Y/n had been calling out to Soundwave, telling him that he was slowly killing her. Starvation wasn't healthy for anyone, forced or otherwise. She knew of girls starving themselves to lose weight and skipping meals. "How could anyone do this to themselves?" she wondered.
The panels shifted, and Y/n lept away, pressing herself flush against the soft walls. Her chest heaved as she fought to breathe, staring in fright at the open doorway. Slowly, the human peeled herself away from the wall and crept toward the opening. Her mind wandered off as she crawled, thinking of the breathtaking meadow and all its treasures. Unaware of her surroundings, Y/n's hand met air instead of a solid surface. A scream ripped from her throat as she tumbled out, staring in horror at the growing metal floor.
She grunted when Soundwave's open palm caught her, pain blossoming throughout her body. Y/n rolled onto her back, glaring daggers at the black screen reflecting her. "You did that on purpose!" she yelled. Anger burned in her chest as the alien innocently tilted his head in question. "You could've killed me!" Unable to handle her emotions, Y/n screamed as she flailed in his hand, pounding her feet and balled-up fists, almost like a toddler throwing a tantrum when they didn't understand. Soundwave patiently waited it out, watching as the human calmed herself. Her chest rapidly rising and falling, she gaped around curiously before looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "What happened?"
~~~~~~
After Soundwave stuffed her back into the compartment, Y/n began humming one of her favorite choir pieces, Psallam Deo. It was calming and an easy pattern that she could follow. She realized that she would forget words and become unaware of her actions. One moment she was eating her pile of bread crumbs, and the next, fiddling with a loose button on her jacket. Another example was when she would reread the same comic strip and not understand what the words meant.
Two loud thumps interrupted her meaningless thoughts, causing Y/n to straighten up and bring her arms weakly in front of her face. Nothing happened after that, but she was still alert to the perceived threat. It wasn't long before she continued humming, oblivious to why she was startled in the first place.
~~~~~~
Knockout vented in relief as Megatron left the bridge, leaving the medic alone. His crimson optics traveled to the main computer with no pilot at the helm. It didn't surprise him. Since the day Lazerbeak had gone missing after an encounter with the Autobots, Soundwave scarcely left his dorm. "Speak of the devil", he mused as he watched the slim TIC walk toward his terminal.
The red medic's audio receptors tuned in to a faint humming. The sound grew more audible as Soundwave passed by him and faded as he continued walking. Knockout observed him from the back, lifting an optic ridge as the silent mech tapped a digit against his spark chamber. He was even more confused when the music abruptly stopped.
His attention snapped to his pinging comm unit. Knockout acknowledged the call before leaving Soundwave to his work. It seemed that Breakdown wanted to talk with him.
~~~~~~
Knockout entered the medbay, staring at the blue mech questioningly. "I got your message. What have you been noticing?"
Breakdown turned away from his project, "So you've been noticing too, huh? It was only a matter of time."
The medic sat on a crate across from him, "Actually, I think this is the first time I've seen him all week. He was acting strange and tense when he walked on the bridge. I also heard a faint beautiful humming that seemed to follow him. It stopped when he tapped against his spark chamber." Knockout demonstrated by hovering a digit over his chest, being mindful of his finish.
Breakdown leaned forward, "That's interesting, 'cause a few days back, when I was in the energon storage room finishing off a cube, Soundwave entered. I don't think he expected me in there cause he just stood at the door, staring at me. After a moment, he walked past me, but this strange odor filled the whole room. What's more? A song, but broken pieces of it. Something about a secret tunnel."
"Secret tunnel?" Knockout chuckled, leaning against a medical slab. "Almost seems like something a human would think of."
The soldier laughed alongside him, "It does."
"Back to our topic, you said an odor. What kind of odor?"
Breakdown shrugged, "Don't know, but it wasn't good, let me tell you. Almost like something from the Pits. Maybe he's not taking care of himself?"
"It could be," Knockout mused, placing his chin in his servo. "After all, he did lose Lazerbeak. Poor mech's probably in a state of depression."
They both sat in silence, mulling over their latest findings, before Knockout spoke up, "If it gets worse, we'll confront him. Whatever this is, it's not healthy."
Breakdown nodded in agreement, "I say give it three days."
"Why three?"
"Cause, if he's getting worse, then we have a reasonable cause of concern. It could just be that he was too overworked that day."
Knockout frowned, "Fair point, but that doesn't explain the singing."
"Maybe it's an audio recording," the blue mech offered, earning an amused look from the medic.
"Are you suggesting that Soundwave plays lullabies to himself?"
Breakdown only grinned, "Like you said, just a suggestion."
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