Disclaimer: Wide Spread Panic doesn't own The Transformers, of course. Nor does she own any of the businesses or items mentioned within. This is but a work of fiction… of course it is…

Author's note: A random little one-shot inspired by the Chevy twins from TF: ROTF. This has nothing whatsoever to do with any of my other stories, but the plot-bunny refused to leave me alone. It's meant to be a one-shot, but it might be continued if you guys like it. I'll warn you though, this one's pretty random and stupid. 3 Rating is for Chevy-twins' language.

Synopsis: Basically, a little misunderstanding causes a lot of grief for one girl, as she finds herself stuck between a vain and homicidal Decepticon and two deranged and pretty much useless Autobots.

Slag Happens

Paint dribbled down my hand to run in a thin line to my elbow and drip slowly onto my jeans. I ignored it, as I leaned out a little farther on the ladder, trying to reach an unpainted spot of siding on my house without having to climb down and move the ladder. Slowly, but surely, my old house was making the transformation from sickly beige to white. I wiped sweat away from my forehead with the back of my other hand, letting go of the ladder to stand free-hand on the rungs. When I gripped the ladder again, making a face at the sun-warmed metal's slightly too-hot feel.

I heard the car coming down the road before I saw it. I tipped my head back, setting my paintbrush on the gutter and waited while a battered red pickup truck bounced up my gravel driveway. It came to an ungainly stop, raising a cloud of dust. I shielded my eyes against the sun and squinted at the man, in his early twenties like myself, climbed out of the truck. With a resigned scowl, I climbed down. He was at the bottom of the ladder when my feet touched the ground. He was smiling, that exuberant smile I knew to mean he was in the throes of energy-drink related good humor. I bit back a groan and forced a wry little smile.

"Come to help me paint?" I asked, knowing how unlikely that was. I took stock of the differences between us. He was taller than me, wearing a red shirt with a band I'd never heard of on it and new dark jeans. His olive skin was complimented by his angular face and short, curly hair. I was wearing an oversized shirt so big I could have made three regular shirts out of it and old jeans missing the knee of one leg and the majority of the other leg and my dirty-blonde hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, that after hours of painting, had mostly escaped the rubber band.

"You watch it yet?" He demanded, ignoring my question completely.

I stared blankly back with incomprehension. "Watch what?" I asked slowly.

His smile became exasperated. "The movie. The one I told you to watch? With the aliens?" He shook his head in disapproval at my increasingly confused look. "Transformers?" He reminded me.

I winced. Not this again. "Sci-fi isn't my thing," I said dismissively, turning to seize a rag I'd left thrown over a bush to wipe my hands on.

"It's not sci-fi," he hissed and he leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "I've told you. It's real. The movies and cartoons are just a cover-up."

I regarded him much the same way I'd regard someone who started babbling about the sky being green with purple polka dots. "It's just a cartoon, Adam" I replied slowly. I saw his expression become stricken. He was one of my best friends and had been since junior high, but he was undeniably obsessed with the idea that the Transformers were real. That they'd been on Earth for a long time and the government kept it covered up. He insisted that the new movies and cartoons were just to test the public opinion on giant alien robots to see how ready we were for the truth. I smiled at him; that wary smile people everywhere adopt when they think they might be dealing with a mentally defective person who just might be dangerous. I didn't think he'd hurt me, in fact I knew otherwise, but I wasn't interested in getting sucked into his conspiracy theory nonsense either.

"Fine. Believe what you want to believe, but remember who's going to be saying I told you so when the government pops the top off this can of worms," he muttered and looked around. "Where's your car?"

"Why?" I retaliated, instantly on alert at the sudden change of topic.

He held up a book and a small bag. "Can you pull it out here in the sun so I can take a picture of it?" He gave me the eyes. Eyes that reminded you of horrible velvet paintings of puppies with unnaturally large sad eyes.

Put off, I frowned at him, trying to avoid looking at his face. Damn it. The eyes always got me and he knew it, I could see the triumph in his expression. "Keys are on the kitchen table, car's in the garage," I snapped.

He grinned and took off into my house, slamming the door behind him. A minute later he scurried back out with my keys in hand and raced around the side of the house to the garage without saying a word. I glowered after him. I put my hands on my hips and leaned back against the ladder as my blue Ford Taurus rounded the house and parked in the sun. He climbed out and set his book and bag in the gravel. I heaved a sigh and stalked over to see what he was doing. He shuffled around in the book until he found something just bigger than my open hand, which he happily slapped against the bumper of my car. I opened my mouth to protest, but then I realized it was a magnet not a sticker. I groaned when I finally figured out what it was. It was a shape formed in geometric shapes and it seemed to glare severely at me. I couldn't remember what it was called despite hours of listening to him ramble on and on about his theories. I knew it had to do with the Transformers, though.

He crouched and painstakingly made sure it was evenly positioned and stepped back to admire his handiwork. "What do you think?"

"Why is it on my car?" I asked.

He shot me a mischievous look. "I've been putting those on all kinds of cars and getting pictures of them. Me and a friend are going to prove the Transformers are real."

"By faking Transformers?" I demanded, not sure whether I understood his logic or not.

"If enough mysterious pictures turn up on the web the government will have to come out with the truth," he said, looking pleased.

I still didn't get his logic. "Says Hasbro on it," I pointed out, trying to keep a straight face.

His smile became strained. "I'll fix it on Photoshop," he muttered as he fished his digital camera out of his bag. I watched as he took several pictures from various angles.

He was about to snap off another when he cell phone went off. He snatched it off his belt and answered it grouchily as I looked on. I took the break in activity to excuse myself to go inside for a glass of sweet tea. I hesitated before pouring him a glass as well and went back outside.

He was hastily shoving his book and camera back in his bag. "What's up?" I drawled, watching his frenetic activity.

"Josey called, Rob wrecked his car again. They got him in the emergency room," he said, as he slung his bag into the truck and scrambled in after it. "Gotta go, mom's having a fit." Josey was Adam's older sister and Rob was his younger brother, I'd met them both on occasion, but not long enough to get to know them. I knew his mother far better and she was a skilled worrier.

I nodded and waved awkwardly with the tea glasses in hand. "Call me and let me know how he is," I yelled, but he was already tearing out of my drive and in the next instant he was gone.

I wandered back into the house, kicking off my old sneakers and tugging my shirt up over my head. I walked slowly down the hall to my room, preoccupied. I grabbed some slightly more dignified and significantly cleaner clothes and took a shower and changed. My painting would have to be postponed for the time being, I was far too hungry to finish right then, and besides I had to go to work in a couple of hours and chores needed to be done.

I stalked into my little kitchen off the narrow hall and stumbled per usual over the uneven doorjamb. I shuffled through the refrigerator with the resigned sort of mute horror of those walking to the gallows. Rotten mayo, something disturbing and possibly alive that had been dead in a plastic container (mmm, zombie meatloaf-I had a brief mental image of zombies made of rotten meatloaf chasing a bunch of campers and demanding ketchup), a jar of pickles (or rather pickle juice, the pickles were long gone making me wonder why I kept the empty container at all), sour milk, fuzzy cheese that might just be intelligent and plotting a violent takeover of my fridge if it could defeat the meatloaf zombie…as the inventory of horror grew, I gave up with a groan. A brief survey of the pantry revealed a lonely pop tart in a shiny foil wrapper hiding amid cans of vegetable way past their expiration dates. I debated eating it on the basis that: one, the box was AWOL and two, there was no visible expiration date on the wrapper. I wasn't usually this pathetic, but I'd been out of town for weeks and groceries don't buy themselves. Oh, how I really wish they would…

I shook myself and ripped open the wrapper while my common sense marched off to beat its head against the first convenient wall it could find. I broke a tiny piece off and examined it, but couldn't tell much. I shuddered and nibbled at the stale pop-tart. Maybe it won't be so bad if I toast it…it's crunchy anyway, but then it'll be hot... With that singular goal, I set off on a mission to find the toaster.

Turns out that, no, stale pop tarts aren't any better toasted. I glanced at the wall clock and came to a decision. Food first, then chores, and then work. Satisfied, I went out and climbed into my car. It's a pity it didn't even occur to me to check that Adam had gotten all of his things in his haste, because if I'd had the presence of my mind to check I would have noticed that he'd left the bumper sticker right in the middle of my bumper. Maybe if I'd taken it off, I could have saved myself a lot of grief, but joyfully oblivious, I peeled out of the drive and headed for Hardees.

The day went smoothly, the traffic wasn't too bad for a Friday and my little Ford weaved easily in and out of the flow of other cars. The only trouble I had was when a particularly ugly pink truck had abruptly pulled out of a side street and cut me off. I flipped the speeding vehicle off and watched as if swung down another side road without as much as a turn signal. I was cutting it close to time to work and my boss' warning about how fired I would be if I was late one more time replayed in my head. I was still fairly confident I could run in the bank, pay a bill and run back out with time to spare though. I parallel parked between a silver and black car of a make I didn't recognize and a red van and I speed-walked up the street to the bank. The lines were longer than I'd anticipated and I all but ran back to my car when I was finished. I had five minutes to get across town to the shop I worked in and I was in a panic.

I guess that's why I was a little too overzealous when I put the car in reverse and hit the gas. That's why I hit the silver and black car. My breath hitched as I felt the bump and froze. A dozen thoughts raced through my mind. Had anyone seen? No, I decided. If I stopped and followed procedure, I'd be late. And fired. I'd had a hard enough time finding this job, no one seemed to be hiring in the current economy. Guiltily, I decided to leave, reconciling myself that as unique as the silver and black car was, I'd be able to find it again and apologize to the owner. I tore out of there, with squealing tires, never looking back.

I never saw the silver and black car shudder to life, nor did I see it peel out behind me driverless with its headlights flaring.

The quickest way across town is to avoid traffic completely on the back roads and those were the ones I took. You rarely ever encountered other vehicles. At first I didn't notice the car behind me. Not until he flipped his high beams on and sped up until he was riding my bumper. I slowed down and waited for him to go around. He slowed down as well, his high beams blinding me. I cursed and pulled over, wanting him to go on. Unfortunately, he pulled over too. And rammed me. I'd been reaching for the door handle and my face smacked against the steering wheel. I yelped and grabbed my bleeding nose. I glowered out the review mirror and squinted against the bright light. I recognized the car in disbelief. Silver and black's driver must have seen me hit his car and followed me. Why he'd rammed me I didn't know. Tit for tat, perhaps?

He rolled backwards slowly and then gunned it, slamming into me again and forcing my car forward. I screamed and threw my car into drive and slammed onto the gas. The tires squealed and I was thrown back against my seat by the force of the acceleration. Behind me, sliver and black revved his engine and pursued. It occurred to my terrified and shocked brain that I'd backed into a severely mentally disturbed person. His car turned out to be much faster than mine. He clipped my car from the side and I lost control, skidding and I started screaming as my car flipped over and slammed into the ditch. Hanging upside down by my seat belt, too shocked to react, even to scream again, I tried to figure out what to do. My brain seemed muddy and confused. As I tried to form a plan of action, the air bags finally decided to go off. I thrashed to get free, but stopped as I heard a strange grinding sound. I couldn't see anything and the sound chilled me to the bone.

Then I heard a thud. And another. I wondered what the other driver was doing and what the sound could possibly be. Another thud and then my car was moving, metal screeching as it was dragged upside-down back onto the road. Something huge and metal landed near the driver's side window. A small mewling sound of fear escaped my lips.

"Transform and face me, you coward!" Thundered a malevolent voice, laced with metallic undertones. "You thought you could attack me, Sideways, while I recharged?" The huge metal thing reared back and slammed against my car, rocking me and it. "Show yourself, Autobot scum!"

Something in the back of my brain shuddered in recognition at the word, but I was far too befuddled to make sense of it. My car was violently flipped back over, knocking the wind out of me. I began clawing at the safety belt, my mind so scrambled I couldn't figure out how to undo it. By some miracle I managed to get it loose and shoved ineffectually at the damaged door. I grabbed the manual window lever and heaved against it, rolling the window down as quickly as possible.

"I said, TRANSFORM!" The enraged voice roared as I wriggled past the air bags landed in a heap, finally free. I stared up in terror at a metal giant, who seemed to be regarding me with surprise. I rolled onto my knees and tried to run, but huge fingers plucked me easily off the ground. I suddenly found my voice again and began screaming in earnest.

Glowing red lenses narrowed as I dangled in front of them. "If you don't show your true form, Autobot, I shall crush your pet insect," the thing declared and finally, the niggling feeling of recognition flared into understanding.

Autobots were from that cartoon Adam was always babbling about. He was right, the paranoid, obsessive little twerp had been right. The giant alien robots were real. I swallowed as another bit of realization struck home. The alien thought my car was going to turn into a giant robot too, and it wasn't. My car was just that: a car. I silently vowed to kill Adam if I survived. Just then, headlights illuminated us both. The alien turned to watch a battered pink truck slowly roll down the road, playing a familiar tune. The alien looked bewildered as the truck puttered to a stop, still playing its eerie melody. Ice cream truck, I thought numbly. It was the same ugly pink ice cream truck that had cut me off earlier. Apparently the driver hadn't suddenly become any smarter.

"Yo, you want some iiiiicccce crrrreeeeeaaam, bitch?" Drawled a voice over the truck's speakers. The truck shuddered and broke in half. As I watched, the two halves began reshaping themselves into two robots just over seven feet tall. The two stared up at the much larger robot with grins. I wondered if any of them would notice if I fainted, but honestly I was too scared to even escape this nightmare that way.

A hysterical mirthless giggle escaped my lips and then all hell broke loose. On of the short robots that had comprised the ice cream truck threw itself bodily at the tall one. It flailed and went down and I found myself free falling. I slammed heavily into the ground and my vision flared painfully white before fading to darkness. I heard metal slamming against metal and raised voices, and then nothing.

I came to lying on my stomach on cold metal, my cheek pressed against the dirty floor. I slowly became aware that I was moving. I lifted my head and grunted as my vision went pain-white again. I held still until my head cleared and the nausea passed. I carefully and miserably surveyed my surrounding, trying to figure out where I was and how I'd gotten there. I remembered being rear-ended, but everything else was a blur. I seemed to be in the back of a vehicle, though it was so dim I couldn't figure out what kind.

I became aware of voices. "I don't thee why we had to take it with uth…" grumbled one disembodied voice, its lisp making it hard to understand. "Ith dirty and ith leakin'."

I laid my head back down against the cool metal and it helped the pounding of my head.

"You stupid glitch, Prime'd slag our afts if we left it there. We supposed to be all friendly wit da humans, bro," argued a second voice. "Ain't good PR leavin' it to die inna ditch."

I wondered vaguely who or what they were talking about.

"Well, what we thuppothed to do with it?" Snarled the first voice. "We gonna catch pit if we take it back with uth. Wathn't thuppothed to fight Thidewayth, no-how."

"Shut up, I'm thinkin'."

"Thath a firth."

"Shut yo, mouth!"

"Make me!"

The vehicle I was riding in shuddered violently and I couldn't even muster a sound of protest as it cracked in half, dumping me in the dirt. The sun temporarily blinded me as I bemusedly watched the two halves roll around on two wheels each to face each other. I wasn't sure why I felt so blissfully content as I lay in the dirt watching the two parts rearrange themselves into two seven foot tall bipeds. My memory stirred. I remembered being upside down. My car had… flipped over? I seemed to recall something to that extent.

One of the bipeds shoved the other and I watched as the other shoved back. Soon, they were punching and clawing at each other. Perhaps, because of my currently addled and confusedly-happy state of mind, I laughed, the sound a strange croaking sound that issued between my chapped lips. The two hesitated and stared at me. I laughed again and then coughed. My mouth filled with a sharp metal taste.

One of them crouched in front of me. He seemed to have a gold-tooth embossed with the scowling serious face. I watched two rounded panels on his head shift. Ears? His eyes(?) were blue glowing lenses and I watched him scrutinize me narrowly.

"I think we broke it," the seven foot robot commented dryly. "Yo, you broke?" He demanded.

I grinned, the expression painful. "You got… funny ears," I drawled, the words painful and strained. I smiled dumbly. "Like an elephant…"

His look alike with the lisp joined him and put his face in his palm. "Prime'th gonna be pithed," he commented.

"You dissing us?" Snapped the other, more amused than angry. "What's an elephant?"

"You can be-can be anything... in the world," I commented as I rested my head against the ground. "Take any shape… and you… you- chose that ugly-ass ice-ice cream truck…"

"Yeah, the'th dithing uth." I felt fingers slide around my middle and I was abruptly lifted off the ground. I stared dimly at the one with lisp, the one who'd picked me up. A strained pain sound escaped me. "What we thuppothed to do now?"

The other scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Can't leave her loopy ass here. Get in trouble for it." The two stared at each other. Finally the one not holding me, waved a hand in front of my face to get my limited and fuzzy attention. "Yo, fruit-loop. Ya wanna go for a ride?"

"You-you have… any of that… what'sitscalledits… Tylenol?" I managed. Something in the back of my mind was jumping up and down and frantically waving its arms for attention, but I was too muddled to figure out what it was. Everything hurt…

The two exchanged a look. "Sure, we do."

"Of courth," the other agreed amiably.

"Good," I mumbled as I yawned. "I got… one hell of a… headache…" I drifted off again, hearing the robots muttering about how much trouble they were in.

Afterword: Just a short rambling that occurred to me. If people like it, I might continue. D -Wide Spread Panic out.