Living in Transformers Prime

I’m a TransFan who was taken into Transformers Prime, no thanks to Soundwave. I became a Cyber-Organic; the Transformers Prime Version of Techno-Organics. I also cannot die. I’m living in Transformers Prime, in the middle of season 1. Enough said. In Transformers Prime: Book 2.

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5. I can hear you

I’m sure Jack Darby would really like to know why those sunglasses are not coming off. The thing is, in life, that a boy would not ask continuously why you are wearing sunglasses until you take them off and show them why. However I’m staying strong and refusing to look at his curious glare at my sunglasses.

Arcee lets me go; so I fell on the ground face first—Luckly my sunglasses didn’t break—so the logical assumption here is that we arrived to the Autobot base.

“Ivy!” I heard Marcus’s squeal when getting up.

Then I fell back over because he apparently ran and hugged me without any warning.

“Sorry, I’mm just glad you are--. . “ Marcus stops mid-way getting off me. “Isn’t your right hand supposed to have an pinkie finger and a thumb?”

“Is that all I’m missing?” I ask, getting back up again.

“You have seven fingers, and, your arms are wrapped up.” Marcus said. “And Tom got his computer fixed. Wait why were you asking if that’s all your missing? Was that a trick question?”

No, that wasn’t a trick question.

“If I told you why.  .  . You would be having nightmares lingering around for weeks.” I tell Marcus.

I heard metal footsteps surround me, probably looking down at my direction.

“I’ll take you home, if you want;Marcus.” Jack offers. “These guys probably will have a word with her.”

 “Sure.” Marcus said. “So, I have to tell them she’s out camping.” Marcus groans, as he and Jack left.

   Perhaps having eyes to see what’s going on would be nice.

“How are you a ‘Cyber-Organic’?” I heard this gruff , older voice to my left.

I shrug.

“Space bridge.” I guessed. “Probably.”

I heard a lot of  ‘huh?’s right there.

“Can you take those glasses off?” Oh, I think that’s Optimus because he sounds younger than Ratchet and just generally different. You know how optimistic leaders are recognized by their faces, looks, and voices? Yes, that’s how I know.

I look down, fiddling with my feet.

“Erm.”  I used my right hand, combing through my hair.  “Eh, would you really want that?”

I heard beeps.

“They  are called sunglasses.” I correct Optimus. “Perhaps you should do research about the types of glasses out there.”

“Arguing will not lead you anywhere.” Optimus said.

I heard Arcee pass by me; so by the sound of this; there’s Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Optimus Prime around me. Bulkhead’s probably in recharge.

“Is it night?” I ask.

“Yes.” Ratchet said.

I take off my sunglasses, keeping my eyelids close.

“Open your eyes so you can see us.” Optimus must have folded his arms.

I shook my head.

“There’s a little problem with that.” I open my eyelids.

I heard a gasp from Optimus, while  Bumblebee took a step back.

“I can see the cybertronian surface repairing itself.” Ratchet notes out loud. “What happened to your optics?”

Good question there.

“Taken out.” I put the sunglasses back on. “Same thing happened to . . .Is my hand still bleeding?”

“No.” Ratchet said. “Optimus, her organic half and cybertronian half are working together. They are balanced in one body. I never have seen a thing like this before.”

________                            _________                                     _____

When you don’t have eyes; there’s an issue with walking around. Anyway; I slept somewhere that the Autobots were not really open to tell me. My dream was basically a rehash what had happened today; except it was darkness. Voices, sounds, and noises were in this weird dream. Apparently I woke up on the couch not where I was supposed to be.

“She .  . . doesn’t have optics?” I heard Arcee from behind the couch.

I fell off the couch then landed on the floor.

“Ivy, show her.” Optimus’s voice is clearly where Arcee is.

I get up feeling around on the table—with my eyelids shut—for my sunglasses.

“.  .  . Sunglasses!” I feel around for them. “Where the slag are you; plastic piece of sun-light protection that GETS LOST when sleepwalking!”

Arcee laughs, lightly.

“The sunglasses are not in the room.” Optimus said. “They are probably  in the .  .  .”

Optimus’s footsteps indicated he turns around towards the other direction leaving me and Arcee. His large metal footsteps became faint after a few minutes standing there with my eye-lids closed. I have a bet set that Arcee will likely take a step back and be in totally dis-array about me not having eyes.

“Activate: Clean, shave, laundry.” I said; all three at once.

In two minutes I was clean.My skin feels really warm. Ah, this feels much better. I used the couch as guidance towards where Arcee sounded like she stood. Some of the machine sounds from her did help me. One hand is on the couch top while the other is not doing anything.

“Show me.” Arcee said.

I lift my head up at the direction Arcee’s voice had come from, then opened my eyelids.

“Why would they take your optics out?” Arcee asks.

Wow, is that question going to be famous by the time I’m gone?

“They are obsessed with cybertronian technology.” I explain to her, closing my eyelids. “Your technology fascinates them.” I wave my free hand. “It’ so big they want to make stuff with it or experiment with the technology to see what it can do.”

 Arcee didn’t say anything, so I suppose the news is sinking in slowly. She must be in denial, possibly.

 “Human nature can sometimes be our own worst enemy.” I sigh, shaking my head.  And also being capable of creating problems we don’t want which is paranoia, I mentally noted to myself. Images flash in my head; some of which are from my stolen optics.

“I should go back and get those optics.” Arcee notes.

“To end up getting captured by Cybertronian obsessed humans then you are screwed.” I said, probably getting a glare from her.

“How do you know about them?” Arcee asks. “And how did you know about us?

I groan, lifting my head up towards the ceiling.

“That is exactly what I expected.” I recall telling the Decepticons how I knew about Megatron’s former title even when they did not ask and this entire universe is fiction. It was Megatron who wanted to know who sent me and how I got on aboard the nemesis.

 I lower my head down, sighing.

“We just met.” Arcee said.

I smile.

“I come from a universe where you are fictional, and this entire base, too.” I explain to the Autobot. “But I’m not fictional.” I touch my chest. “I’m a living, breathing human. Well I used to be completely human.” I emphasize. “Mr.I-am-an-idiot(who-can’t tell a difference between a spider-snakia and a human)Soundwave reached in through my computer screen .  .  . “

“Reach in through your computer screen?” Arcee repeats what I had just said.

I sigh to myself.

“Soundwave claims to know the difference between organisms and cybertronians.” I said in a mocking kind of voice. “Well, look at me! I’m the example that’ll contradict his claim! Anyway, Soundwave let me go--after realizing his mistake--free-fall in the space bridge---“

“Hold on,” Arcee said, interrupting me for the second time in a row. She must have a problem with my laptop’s screen. “A space bridge can’t manifest in a computer screen.”

I must have smiled.

“Obviously; if you have never seen a certain SciFi show, the phrase ‘cannot’ is turned into ‘can happen’.” I said. “This has been a wild ride for me; anyway, I was knocked out while falling through the space bridge—because he accidently hit my slagging forehead when getting me!—and . . .landed in Navada; in 2010.”

“Are you Irish?” Arcee asks.

“.  .  . No.” I said.  “My pronunciation isn’t the best, that’s all. I don’t have an accent.”

“Sounds like you do.” Arcee tells me.

If I had eyes then this would be the perfect time to do an eye-roll.

“When I came here; for the first time, I was shocked and couldn’t believe it.”  I recall, ignoring her comment. “I didn’t know why I was in Transformers Prime. Yes, this is a fictional show that’s currently, or, has been watched by teenagers and kids.”

 I sigh, taking a brief pause in this some-what lengthy explanation—I’m trying to talk slow—to Arcee.

 “I never watched its three seasons except for the first episode; it felt a bit rushed.” I admit to the femme. “Technically the show has 4 seasons, not 3.”

“How did you meet Starscream and Soundwave?” Arcee asks.

“Somehow, for a fantastic odd reason, I got aboard the nemesis.” I explain. “I was walking around some store –in Navada--and then POOF! I’m in the nemesis halls.” The vivid memory of meaping—when Knock Out and Starscream were not paying attention to the floor—is still fresh in my mind. “And then found out I can’t die.”

It feels a bit odd standing here; you know, one moment Transformers Prime is fiction and then it is not.

“. . Tell me; how did you find out?” Arcee might be tilting her head at me; because I can hear the distinctive low whirr from a spring that usually would be set off if the jack in the box went out the other direction.

“Annoying Megatron.” I said casually. “My head canon is; the space bridge somehow messed up my DNA and added some of the cybertronian CNA into my DNA from Soundwave. Don’t get any funny ideas about that: I’m not related to him.” I shook my hands. “Knock Out did some CNA testing to make sure for me.”

 Starscream LOVED to tease me about the CNA testing for days after Knock Out did it. I got even with Starscream by using Knock Out’s hot pink spray bottle when he was in recharge; oh, the masterpiece became complete when Cloud made a mustache on the seeker’s faceplate. Starscream learned one thing: don’t tease a girl unless you want to be repainted and be humiliated.

Surprisingly—without having eyes—I can tell Arcee is tapping her digits together while thinking.

“And?” Arcee asks, as the tapping sound faded away.

“I never felt hungry.” I added. “It was like my Sims hunger bar was full ALL the time!” I wave my arm—not the one being used to keep balance---up and down. “I used to have super-strength for a while, but, it went away two months later.”

“.  . . Excuse me?’” Arcee says in a way that makes it seem like I said something rude.

“Sorry?” I apologize, for no reason.

I heard  beeps coming from the other direction..

“Did you say months.” Her comment sounds like a statement and remark more than a question.

“This is not a trick question, isn’t it?” I guess. “I was there for five earth months. I annoyed the slag outta the Decepticons; gosh it was so fun but so bad at some points. However it was well worth the outcome.”

“Hey Arcee, you have a nail polish around?” I heard a young boy’s voice. I guess that might be Raf.

“Nail polish?” Arcee repeats. “What do you need with nail Polish?  I don’t have ‘nail polish’.”

“It’s for decoration.” Raf said. “.  .  .Is she sleep walking?”

I heard even more beeps.

“Bee, what do you mean she doesn’t have eyes?” Raf asks. “That’s not possible.”

Even more beeps from Bumblebee; he sounds like a marry-go-round.

I wanted to jump into a river and actually dye twenty times over because of that statement Raf made. Come on; is that statement gonna get dull or something? Okay that was a sarcastic statement about jumping into the river, so please don’t worry about me because I’m fine with my easy-going-life-that-might-get disrupted by Lockdown. When is Lockdown coming, anyway?

_____                                      __________

  .  . Later  . .  . Probably after Miko, Raf, and Jack have been told .  .  .

These images flashed again, this time I saw Breakdown. Like the first time I had seen the white lady on the bathroom floor on a red towel: there wasn’t fear. Simply to put: I didn’t scream at the image. You can say my courage is unique; not reacting to something potentially scary. I kept myself together thinking it’ll pass. My eyes rolled against a container.

 “I recognize those eyes.” Breakdown said. He’s missing an optic.

A man, he’s probably not Jerry, walks down a row of stairs.

“Experiments for the eyeless.” Wait; he must be Silas, you know the guy who is mentioned a lot in Transformers Prime. “So far we’ve developed a prototype of these.”

The room is dark minus for the computer screen’s blue light; it’s creepy, fear-worthy, and fit for  science nerds to geek out while pressing all the buttons their hands get on.I see figures in this room—besides Silas and Breakdown who are vivid--thanks to the light.

“You made her eyes like ours,” Breakdown said. Wait, my eyes don’t look like human eyes? My eyes look like a transformer optic? “Is that how you plan to succeed in making prototypes for the opticless!”

“Hazel is just a color.” I don’t like Silas at all. “This optic has actually given us a peephole to designing human-like robots and advance civilization as we know it.”

“I thought humans had morals.” Breakdown said.  “Give back my optic!”

“We’re using it.” Silas flatly replied.

“How you possibly USE an optic that is gigantic?” Breakdown, the paranoid guy, didn’t seem to feel comfortable restrained to a table.

“Making our own robot.” Silas said, walking around Breakdown. He picks up the glass case holding my optics. “So, what’s the story of our little friend?” He didn’t really look like the guy you could let into the house. “We took two fingers, and, they are like your digits merged into skeleton.”

Cyber-Organic fits my situation more and more by the second.

Breakdown didn’t say a thing.

“We’ll like to study her, even more.” Silas said, putting the glass case down on  a table. “And she got out of here; yesterday. She threatened one of my co-workers with a Transformer called ‘Lockdown’ claiming he’ll annihilate everyone in this building just to find her.”

Exactly what I had said; exactly.

“Was that Lockdown?” Breakdown asks.

“No; one of the Autobots.” Silas said. “We want our next project to be fool proof, if we cannot succeed in making our own robot then perhaps we can make our own .  .  .”

“Cyber-Organic.” Breakdown finishes for him.

Silas stops in his tracks, abruptly.

“What’s a Cyber-Organic?” Silas asks.

“You are stupid.” Breakdown points out. “You don’t know what Cyber-Organic MEANS. This is what she is. This girl does not have weapons or powers! You can’t quite make prototypes of her. She’ll do nothing. Just like the prototypes; nothing.”

 I feel proud to be not effecting this universe; yay!

 “Do you know where the Autobot base is?” Silas asks, taking Breakdown’s warning as a joke.

Silas has walked away from Breakdown.

“Who do you think we are? Psychics? NO!” Breakdown is trying to break his binds. “I don’t know where their base is. And by my estimate; you won’t find her.”

Okay Ivy, try to NOT worry about the whole issue with Lockdown! Like seriously I can see some stress on my optics through the glass container showing red tree root like lines creeping up the hazel sphere. Yes, I’m the kind of person who worries—if no one has been paying attention to my worry then please go eat a cookie—about stuff.

“So how long have the Decepticons known about her?” Silas startles Breakdown.

“We don’t know her.” Breakdown lies.

Classic move there; lying.

“Telling me she’s a Cyber-Organic says otherwise.” Silas said.  “So this means they are organic lov—“

“You are insane.” Breakdown stops him.

Silas looks at the robot as though he had done the impossible.

“No, I am not.” Silas denies that.

“Saying we are Organic Lovers pretty much says that.” Breakdown said. “I have yet to see how killing most of your men equal organic love.” Sarcasm as it’s best. “You should go to a Doctor and have a brain scan.”

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