Dark Paradise [Transformers] {1}

Chapter 1

My eyes snapped opened by my alarm clack and I groaned before slapping it shut. I pushed my blankets over my head, trying to go back to sleep. "Ronny!" I heard my Mom's voice and I groaned. "Baby, time to wake up!"

"I'm up! I'm up . . ." I said, pushing the blankets off as I rolled my eyes. I looked at my side at the small table by my bed, looking at my framed picture of me and my big brother, Sam - who died during his military service two years ago. "Morning, Sammy . . ." I muttered before getting up.

I brushed my teeth and took a quick shower. I got dressed and headed out of my room. I walked downstairs as Mojo, the family dog, gave a small bark. "Hey, Mo," I said, patting him on the head before walking to the kitchen, where my parents were.

"See, I'm up," I told my Mom. "Happy birthday, sweetie," She said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "There's our birthday girl," Dad said with a big smile. I sighed, "Yeah, it's my birthday . . . Great."

"Oh, what's wrong?" Mom asked, giving me a playfully small hit on the shoulder. "I thought you love birthdays." She placed a plate in front of me and I shrugged, "Not really," I muttered as I sat down.

"You 17 now," Dad said and Mom nodded to him so he cleared his throat, turning back to me as I started to eat my breakfast. "Which means, your mother and I have a surprise for you." I frowned but continued to eat, "What?"

"Well, you and I going to go together, to get your first car," Dad said with a big smile. I frowned again, glancing between him and Mom, "Are you serious?"

"Of course we are!" Dad said. "It's just that . . . Well, you not always serious," I pointed out. "Now, now," Mom said. "Just saying," I said. "We are," Dad said, "And we both will go today, after breakfast."

"Wow, you really not kidding," I said before I took another bite before getting up. "Okay, so let's go." Dad looked at me with a frown, "What, now?" He asked. "Yeah," I said. "But you haven't finished eating," Mom stated. "I'm not hungry," I said. "Okay . . . Okay," Dad said, getting up.

"See you later, Mom," I said, kissing her cheek. "Okay," She said and Dad and I walked out of the kitchen. "Let's go," I muttered, smiling slightly as we walked out of the house. We climbed into his car and pulled off.

"So what car I'll get?" I asked with a small smile. Dad grinned, "Ohh, it's going to be your choice when we'll get there." I shook my head as I looked back ahead, smirking slightly.

After a few minutes, I reached into a Porsche dealership, and my jaw dropped in shock. "Wait, wait, not happening, no way," I said, staring at all the amazing cars. "Oh, you got to be kidding me."

"Yeah. I am. You're not getting a Porsche," Dad said and I looked at him with a frown and my mouth was slightly opened. "What?" I asked and he let out a laugh. "But you said --"

"We haven't got there yet," He cut me off. I crossed my arms across my chest, shaking my head, "I don't want to talk to you for the rest of this whole thing." He let out another laugh, "Oh, come on. It's just a practical joke." I gave him a look, "It's not a funny joke."

We pulled into a used car dealership called 'Bobby B's'. We climbed out and I sighed, "It's half a piece of crap, Dad."

"When I was your age, I'd have been happy with four wheels and an engine," Dad said. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head before a man walked towards us.

"Sir and young lady," He said and shook Dad's hand, "Bobby Bolivia, like the country, except without the runs. How can I help you?"

"Well, my daughter here, looking to buy her first car," Dad explained. "You come to see me?" Bobby asked me with his hand on his chest. "Yeah . . ." I trailed off. "That practically makes us family," He said and hold his hand to me, "Uncle Bobby B, baby. Uncle Bobby B." I shook his hand, "Ronny."

"Ronny, let me talk to you," He said, patting my shoulder as he led me and Dad to the cars in the back. "Ronny, your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods. Let me tell you something, sweetheart." We stopped and he looked at me, "A driver don't pick the car. The car'll pick the driver. It's a mystical bond between a human and machine."

I looked at him with a frown but slowly nodded. "I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them," He told me. "Especially not in front of my mammy." He turned to my side and pointed to the side, "That's my mammy." We looked over to see two women sitting under two sunshades, sitting on chairs. "Hey, Mammy!"

One of the women looked over and hold a middle finger and I smirked. "Don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head, bitch," Bobby said as he turned back to me, "I tell you, she deaf, you know?" He laughed before putting a hand on my shoulder, pulling me with him back to the cars, "Well, over here, every piece of car a man or a woman might want or need."

We stopped at a beaten up old 77' Camaro, it had a custom yellow paint with two black racing stripes down the middle. The paint was definitely custom but it was faded. "This ain't bad," I muttered with a small smile. I placed my palm of the hood before moving around the car, "This one's got racing stripes."

"Yeah," Bobby confirmed. "It got racing . . . Yeah, what's this? What the heck is this? I don't know nothing about this car. Manny!"

I looked inside the driver side and looked around it. "What?" Manny called. "What is this? This car! Check it out!" Bobby ordered as I climbed into the driver seat and shut the door closed. "I don't know, boss! I've never seen it! That's loco!" Manny said.

"Don't go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny! Find out!" Bobby said. "It feels good," I noted before looking at the center of the steering wheel. I wiped the pad of my thumb against the dirt pooling on it, to reveal a picture; it was a face, a mechanical face. "How much?" Dad asked Bobby.

Bobby stood at the passenger side, "Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job . . ."

"Yeah, but the paint's faded," I cut him off and he looked at me through the window of the passenger side. "Yeah, but it's custom," He said.

"It's custom faded?" I asked. "Well, this is your first car. I wouldn't expect you to understand," He told me before looking back at my Dad, "Five grand."

"No, I'm not paying over four. Sorry," Dad said. Bobby looked back at me, "Kid, come on, get out. Get out the car."

"Wait, no, you said cars pick their drivers," I stated. "Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father. Out the car," He said before turning to the car beside it. "Now, this one here for four Gs is a beaut." He opened the driver door and I sadly climbed out of the Camaro.

"There's a Fiesta with racing stripes over there," Dad told me. "No, I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes," I grumbled as Bobby climbed into the driver seat of the car beside the Camaro, "This is a classic engine right here. I sold a car the other day --" I closed the door of the driver seat of the Camaro and all of a sudden, the passenger door opened, hitting the car that Bobby was in, selling the driver side.

"Gee. Holy cow," Dad said and Bobby climbed out from the passenger side through the window, "No, no, no. No worries."

"You all right?" Dad asked. "I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out," Bobby assured us. "Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!"

I looked back at the Camaro when the radio turned on, ". . . Greater than man . . ." I looked back at Bobby as he pointed to one of the other cars as he walked towards it, "That one's my favorite, drove all the way from Alabammy."

Suddenly every single windows of all the cars, except the Camaro, shattered into a million tiny pieces, making the three of us to duck. Bobby stood up and looked around at all the cars in horror before he turned back to us as he hold up four fingers,

"$4,000."