The Strangest of Places

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Chief Charlie Burns liked to think that he was an easygoing guy. Considering he was a single dad and police officer.

He was lenient with his children, though he couldn't really call most of them children anymore. He allowed them to have more freedom than most their age, even when growing up. Three out of the four were full-fledged adults now, and were currently attending Emergency Responders classes to take up the mantle for the jobs that Griffin Rock so needed.

And then that left Cody.

Still mourning his mother's death five years ago, the boy was usually alone, whether it be at school or at home. Even now, as Charlie made dinner in preparation for his elder children's arrival, Cody was up in his room playing with his video games or building model airplanes, or whatever it was kids his age did. It was… disheartening, to say the least.

As Charlie stirred several pieces of chicken breast on the sizzling frying pan, with brow furrowed as he brooded, he decided that perhaps his youngest son just needed someone to talk to. However, just as he was about to open his mouth and call the boy down, the doorbell rang.

The chief's bushy brows creased even more, but he turned the stove off and wiped his hands on his apron, calling to the floor above him as he heard the stairs creak.

"Don't worry about it, Cody, I'll get it!"

"Alright, Dad," the boy chimed, and Charlie soon heard the door to his bedroom closing. He walked over to the fireman's pole at the other end of the room and glided down expertly, hitting the ground with a solid thump.

Now on the first floor, he turned towards the door. He knew that it couldn't be any of his kids, they would have simply entered, so it had to be someone else— townsfolk in distress, perhaps. He pulled open the door, and was met with a man he'd never seen before.

Younger than him, the African American man who was a bit out of shape stood in the doorway in a dark grey suit, the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt and red tie. He had a receding hairline and dark eyes, gazing down at the chief from his advanced height. As the stranger's gaze wandered over Charlie prematurely, the police officer saw his eyebrow twinge in the slightest annoyance, and the chief then realized that he was still wearing his apron—the white one, with the body of a bikini clad island native. Charlie managed a grin, breaking the silence.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The African American man nodded sharply and folded his hands behind his back.

"Special Agent William Fowler," he introduced, pulling out an official looking badge from within his jacket. He pocketed it a moment later, an eyebrow rising vindictively. "Chief Burns, I presume?"

Charlie pulled the apron off, throwing it abrasively over his shoulder. "The one and only," he nodded, holding out his hand.

Agent Fowler hesitated for an instant, before returning the handshake. "I've learned that you're the head of all emergency response units on the island," he said.

"Indeed I am," Charlie agreed. "Who wants to know?"

The Special Agent frowned at the chief's question. "I could name a number of organizations that 'want to know'. The Pentagon, for example." As Charlie startled, Agent's Fowler's features hardened even more so. "Now, if you could come with me, I can tell you what this is all about."

The elder man blinked, but nodded shortly. Quickly running back over to the fireman's pole, he shouted up to his son. "Cody! I'm going out. Lock the doors and call me when your siblings get back!"

There was a pause, before the boy answered in understandable bewilderment. "Uh…okay, Dad!"

Charlie turned back to the Special Agent. "When do we leave?"

Fowler straightened. "Now."

"So…how exactly did you get here?"

Special Agent Fowler glanced up at the chief from the squad car's passenger seat. Chief Burns was behind the wheel, heading back to the helipad on the other side of the island, where they could be taken to the mainland for…whatever reason. Charlie kept his eyes on the road as his passenger answered.

"Well… let's just say I have friends in high places. They get me where I need to go."

The chief was silent, before muttering, "Huh. And is there any reason that we need to leave Griffin Rock for you to tell me this 'top secret' stuff?"

Agent Fowler shrugged, arms folded across his chest. "It's highly sensitive information, Chief Burns. And in order to reveal it, we need to be in a highly classified location."

"And that would be….?"

"The mainland."

Chief Burns had never been a fan of flight. Even in his days training at the police academy in Augusta, he'd always preferred vehicles that remained stably on the ground. And so, boarding the helicopter with Special Agent Fowler, Charlie felt a certain level of trepidation, and the feeling remained as they took off and began crossing the enormous expanse of unforgiving water to reach the mainland.

The chief of police had been looking out one of the windows, large, pale hands tightly clutching the straps holding him in place, when the Special Agent had loudly cleared his throat over the roar of the machine's rotating blades, speaking expertly into the headset built into their helmets.

"Do you believe in aliens, Chief Burns?" was the question Charlie received through the din. He sent the younger man a strange look, which Agent Fowler only rolled his eyes at. "Maybe I should reword that— what do you know about aliens?"

"You mean little green men?" Charlie demanded incredulously. "Like Martians?"

"Not necessarily," the agent answered slowly.

"Then what do you mean?"

Fowler paused, taking the lapse in conversation to look out the window, a sudden suspicion shining in his eyes, scanning over the skies as if… searching for something. Maybe even daring something to come near them, if that made any sense. He finally responded, though his gaze didn't leave the idyllic heavens above them.

"Just…keep an open mind, Chief. It's all you can do."

The helicopter finally touched down in an abandoned airfield, and only Charlie and Fowler exited. Charlie watched the helicopter rise up again, blowing dust and grit into the air, and he covered his eyes with a hand against the wind and sun as it disappeared over the horizon.

"Well, there goes our ride, Agent Fowler," Charlie began absently. "I hope that you have another mode of transportation."

Fowler failed in hiding a smirk. "Sort of." He walked ahead, towards one of the larger warehouses around them, and motioned for the chief to follow.

"Where are we going?" Charlie began guardedly, distrust beginning to lace his tone. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea…

"To meet my…superiors," Fowler answered loftily, if albeit grudgingly, and Charlie's brow furrowed, but he followed in step beside the agent. A moment passed before they reached the lowered grill of a warehouse, and the Special Agent stopped.

"I'll ask you again, Chief Burns," he started, turning towards the grey-haired man with his hands akimbo, "What do you know about aliens?"

Charlie managed a snort. "What do aliens have to do with anything?"

"They have to do with everything," Fowler stated gravely.

And then, as Charlie blinked in confusion, the metal grill over the entrance of the warehouse began to rise, slowly revealing an enormous pair of pillar like legs. Charlie's eyes grew steadily wider as the rising gate exposed more of the humanoid creature.

The gate finally shuddered to a halt, revealing what looked like a robot robot, half hidden in shadow. The being took a massive step forward, and instinctively, Charlie moved backwards, nearly falling over his feet, eyes feeling as if they were about to pop out of his head. He dimly realized that the appearance of the robot hadn't instilled any reaction from Agent Fowler.

Now that the creature was in the light Charlie saw its…well, its face. And it looked almost disturbingly human.

From what Charlie could see, the titanic robot had the ability to transform into some kind of semi, judging from its armor. And he was looking down at him, silently, with bright and somber yellow eyes. The robot crouched with deliberate care before him, and it— he —spoke.

"Chief Charles Burns," the being began, his baritone like velvet and laced with grave authority, "My name is Optimus Prime, and I am an autonomous robotic organism from the planet Cybertron. May we have a word with you?"

A/N: As for the color of Optimus' optics, before you become all rapid about that, in Rescue Bots, they are yellow. The subtle differences between characters in the television shows will be addressed accordingly. If it's from a Prime character's point of view, then the details will be attended to as they are in that show. The same for Rescue Bots.

I know that Rescue Bots isn't as popular, but it is truly an awesome show. There's humor that not just fore the little kids, and it's even supposed to be in the same continuity as Prime. So there's bound to be a real crossover for them eventually.

As for this story, as I stated in the beginning, reviews would be extremely appreciated. Even constructive criticism. Any response will do, as long as you do so truthfully, and without flaming.

Also, this story (if I continue it) will be more of a series of oneshots than anything else, and I do accept prompts and ideas. They may not be used, but all ideas are appreciated!