Complex Robotics

An Odd Feeling

Hello! I am actually from Fanfiction.net, and I came on here because I heard about it and I was curious. I thought it was pretty cool, so I decided to post my story here.

After chapter 1, I will be posting many chapters at a time, so that it can catch up to the one on FF. This one is slightly different though, because I as I post this, I am fixing and rewriting sentences. Technically this will be the re-written version that I would later repost on FF.

I do not own anything from Transformers except for my OC, plot, and any characters that are added.

Enjoy!

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Chapter One: An Odd Feeling

"You've got to be kidding me." I grumbled, staring out at the sad excuse for cars in the vast junkyard.

Dave, a tall and burly man with a thick mustache and a trucker's cap on his head merely shrugged as we continued our stroll through the cars. No, you couldn't even consider them to be cars. Most of them were missing more than one essential parts, had rusted metal, flat tires, and chipped paint. Some of them looked like they had just fought a bull with the way their fronts were twisted and crunched.

I sighed, stopping in front of a 1988 Cadillac Deville. The poor thing was rusted over completely, with no front ties, a missing passenger's door, with cracked headlights. I could only imagine what it had went through to come out like this.

"Sure, it needs some cosmetic work...and a few parts. But with mechanical skills like yours, you'd be able to fix it up in no time!" Dave assured from behind me.

"Dave, this is a graveyard, not a junkyard. Not one of these cars can be a functioning car again," I lifted the hood, and immediately stepped back when three moths fluttered out. Reluctantly, I peered in the inside and groaned, "It doesn't even have an engine!"

"Whoops," Dave chuckled as he came closer, "Forgot to check if it did."

I rolled my eyes, the hood making a loud, creaky metal sound as it shut.

Sure, I was a mechanic, it was practically in my blood. My dad runs an auto shop nearby in town, and when I'm not in school, I'm usually there helping him work on the automobiles. He's been teaching me ever since I was four years old. Of course, my mom tried her best to keep me away. She didn't like how I'd come home completely covered in oil and grease, smelling like a gas station. But I was drawn to it, like a moth to a light. Fixing cars was what I was good at, it was my dream job to take after my dad.

After my junior year, I asked my parents for a car. You would assume that because my dad was such a grease monkey and a car enthusiast that he would say yes, right? Nope. He told me that if I wanted a car, I'd make my own car. Wasn't sure how the logic made sense though.

So, a few arguments later, I ended up here at the town's junkyard. But as I have previously stated, this place was a graveyard. Even I couldn't find one that could possibly be fixed up. They were all pretty much hopeless, and so was my request to have a car.

I sighed, turning around to make my way back to the entrance, Dave following behind me.

"Oh come now Charlie, you've only seen one side." Dave argued.

I shook my head, "I've seen enough. I'm just going to beg my dad to help me build one."

"Wait!" Dave said, and I stopped, turning around. "If you're going to build one from, I do have some parts that'll be useful."