Prime: Ready or Not

New Car

"Captain Archibald Witwicky," Sam smiles nervously, rubbing his hands together before lifting up an old man of the arctic. "He brought a group of sailors to discover the arctic circle, one of the first. Really he's... he's a incredible man. Oh, and he used this," he moves to the table and lifts a small item. "This is a Sextant, used by old seamen." Giggles went through the class. "All for sale, by the way. Like uh... like these glasses," he reaches to pick up cracked glasses, holding them up for the class.

"Samuel," hissed a girl sitting in the front, her hair in two blonde french braids down her back. "Don't you dare try to pawn those off."

"Look, you want the car or no?" He responds, to which the teacher shakes his head.

"Are you going to sell me his liver, too, Witwicky? This isn't show and sell in the eleventh grade so wrap it up." Unfortunately, before Sam cold continue, the bell rang for the school day to be over.

The girl stands from her desk, pulling her bag over her shoulder and moves to the front to help Sam gather his things. 

"Okay, what's our grades?" She hears her brother ask, who was standing in front of the teacher's desk.

"Uh... well, Emilia gets and A+ and I'm going to have to give you a B-."

"What? Come on, why?"

"You were selling things in the middle of a presentation, it's not my fault!"

"Jeez, Sam, thanks," Emilia frowned as she crossed her arms. "I told you not to do that and now you've gone and screwed things up."

"Screwed what up?" Asks their teacher, to which Sam sighs.

"Our dad is helping us buy our first car. We needed two thousand dollars and three A's each. We got the money, and you're the last grade we need. Come on, just please..." He pauses. "You gotta ask yourself: what would Jesus do?"

~~~~~

"Dad!" Sam yells as he runs towards their black car, Emilia hurrying along behind him. "Guess what? Guess what!"

"What is it?" He groaned a bit as the twins start getting in the car. "Hey, Sam, ladies in the front, you know the rules."

"Doesn't matter, fine." He tosses his things in the back, both him and his sister handing over their paper grades. "Look, we both got A's! We got it, we're good!"

"I'll be damned," he chuckles a bit. "Alright, alright. Lets go then."

The twins could hardly contain themselves as they rode down the street in the black convertible. Their dad would be paying for half of the car, which was somewhat of a big deal because he never spent more money than he had to. The only problem was that the two had to share their first car, though Emilia insisted that they would be fine.

"You know," their dad says as he turns his blinker on. "I got a surprise for you." Turning right, he pulls into a Porsche dealership. Automatically, Sam started yelling with excitement.

"You're joking!" He exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. 

"Yeah, you're right, I am. You're not getting a Porsche for your first car."

Emilia tries to stifle her laughter, shaking her head. "Jesus Sam, I thought you'd at least be smart enough to see through that."

"That's cold. Really, it's not funny at all."

"Yeah but, the thing is, it's funny," she nods.

"No it isn't. Shut up."

"Make me." With that, she felt a hit to the back of her head, to which she turns around in her seat to hit him back.

"Hey, hey!" Their dad laughed at them. "Calm down, guys, we're here." The three of them had entered an old used-car parking lot now, a busted workshop sitting on the lot with a cheap 'petting zoo' that consisted of an angry ostrich. 

"Wow," the blonde girl's voice trailed off slowly as she got out of the car. "Have we hit an all-time low, dad?"

"Oh shush," he rolls his eyes. "Your first car is going to be a piece of crap, just like mine. No sacrifice, no victory."

"The Witwicky motto, I get it." Sam lets out a groan, looking around at the cars as a black man with a hat makes his way over to them. He must be the one selling these cars or he never would've come talk to them.

He starts speaking with Sam and their father, allowing Emilia to slowly slip away and look around at the different cars. A piece of junk to the right, and a piece of junk to the left but in green. Exciting. Just as she was about to lose hope, she hears the roar of an engine to her right. Looking over, she sees an old yellow Camaro wth black racing stripes. A small smile crosses her face as she rears it, opening the car door to sit down in it. 

The leather felt nice as she gripped the steering wheel, running her thumb across the horn to reveal a symbol she's never seen before. It looked like a Camaro, so whoever had this last must have put in a different logo. 

"Hey dad!" She yelled for him and the two. "How about this one?"

"Man I don't know where that came from," the black man says as he walks over. Sam runs his hand along the top of the car as well, smiling a bit.

"I like this," he says. "It's nice."

"Well uh..." the dealer paused. "Considering it's classy look and custom design-"

"But it's faded," Sam respond.

"Still custom."

"Custom faded? Really? That's what you're going for?"

"Look, it's going for five thousand. Take it or leave it."

"Sorry," their father shakes his head. "Not going over four, okay? Try looking for another one."

"What?" Emilia groaned, reaching to open the door and step out. "That's crap, this is the only one that looks semi-okay."

"There's a Fiesta over there with racing stripes, if that's what you're into," her dad shrugs.

"I don't want a Fiesta, dad. It looks like a kid drew on it with a sharpie." She frowned, hearing the radio on the Camaro start going off. There were a few beeps coming from it, before one went off at a high pitch and the windows to all the other cars shattered.

Emilia covered her ears when she heard, looking around with her jaw dropped. This was crazy. There was no way that car made all the other ones windows shatter. That'd be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

The salesman turned to them, a hand on his head in shock. "F-Four thousand!"