Igniting the Fuse (Transformers)

50 Watt

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...V...

50 Watt

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Annabelle Lennox was a young girl of ten that glared at the piece of junk sitting in her driveway. She didn't understand why her father was dropping off such a useless motorcycle. William Lennox merely sighed as he stepped away from Ironhide and the mech transformed. The junker of a Harley remained unmoving as Ironhide muttered something about spare parts and youngling brats.

"You're not staying," Annabelle grumbled as she crossed her arms and cocked a hip, mimicking her mother's attitude. "So, you brought us junk?"

"This is a Junkion," Ironhide corrected with a growl as the young girl stuck her tongue out. Ironhide repeated the action as Will pinched his nose.

"He needs a home and it's best that your mother and you have a guardian," Will calmly explained. "Decepticons can attack at any time."

Annabelle scowled as she marched past the two males and stood in front of the bike. It was dusty and its colors were a drab olive with black; camouflage in design with its blotches of brown. It did look like junk. She wondered if it could transform. It looked like it might crumble into pieces. She reached out, poked the single headlight, and waited. Nothing happened; she was hoping it might crumble.

"Hello," Annabelle sighed.

"Annabelle," Ironhide sighed as the youngling looked up to him. "…he's shy."

"He seems like a piece of junk," Annabelle stated. It would be embarrassing if her friends saw this thing in the driveway. "It can't transform."

"Annabelle Jane Lennox," Will scolded as she huffed.

There was a soft clang and the Harley vibrated before the transformation began. She was shocked as she watched sand and dirt cake off the mech and hit the ground in clumps. The single headlight went to rest at his forehead like some type of helmet light. His face was a rusty brown and the drab olives, browns, and blacks splotched his body in randomly metallic parts. She stepped back as his amber optics ignited and focused on her.

Annabelle Lennox knew that it was a Cybertronian being, but she hadn't expected it to transform. It didn't even look like it was capable of transforming. The motorcycle handles bars at his hips stuck out as they rested; the seat of the bike covered his chest. His form looked rustic and lithe.

"I'm…I'm…" she was speechless. The junker was supposed to be taken away.

"51-0-64-N," the Junkion introduced. "My designation."

Her hazel eyes looked to her father who had his own eyes shut and nose pinched. Ironhide bore a scowl as he gazed down at her. She didn't think he'd transform and introduce himself. Annabelle winced as her face heated; what would her mother think if she knew she'd acted bratty to a foreigner? Even worse, one that held some type of manners?

"I'm Annabelle Lennox," she calmly introduced herself.

"Like a good neighbor, 51-0-64-N is here!" He quickly exclaimed and chuckled.

"That's not a name," Annabelle pointed out and she heard Ironhide grumble. Her father shot her a sharp look that she ignored. "If you're going to be on Earth then you need a name."

The Junkion cocked his head to the side as he watched her. He crouched and crossed his arms as he continued to stare at her.

"Annabelle." Ironhide sighed as the young girl looked up to him. "He lived on a planet where he was a drone…he was nothing." At her horrified look he continued, "Wreck-Gar rebuilt him, but his purpose was for nothing more but work."