Chapter 2: Sam Witwicky

Sam Witwicky was having a quiet boring life. Thoughts of giant alien robot machines out to kill him; these were all gone. These days, the government did not much approve of the presence of the Transformers, no matter their differentiation of faction. Walking home from work, Sam chanced a glance at a brand new model yellow mustang.

Instant memory minding the growing industrialist of a cybernetic friend now long lost.

Sam shook his head on these thoughts of loneliness. Bee, he had brought him nothing but trouble. Or so, this was what he was led to believe. He had heard a lot in Transformer rumors of late, and the one that haunted him the most was the death of Bumblebee at the hands of Megatron.

For some reason, Sam found this difficult to believe. Bumblebee had been such a strong defender of human and of Autobot freedom.

Sam looked at his new ride in disgust. The 1984 Volkswagen Beetle was not his first choice, but he had no complaints. Except for the fact that half the time it would not run. The old car, it had many the mechanical issue. Three times in the same year now he has had to replace the alternator, the steering system, and even the starter.

Sam, he was beginning to think this small gas efficient vehicle was better off as recyclable scrap. For now, the car just sits and waits. All for tires flat. Dust and falling branches and even cobwebs making the old car to look more at being a permanent fixture than at looking as any kind of automobile.

The yellow color of the trash heap beetle, it brought him once again to think of Bee.

Removing an old tore up tarp from out of his shed, Sam covered the old piece of junk, he so deliberately labeled the dead automobile; for in every sense of reality, it was indeed going to be recycled as garbage; in manner of speaking.

The call has already been put out by Sam for an automobile repair shop to pick up the old heap for very little money. Fifty bucks to soon be in his pocket. The heap to soon be out of his sight.

Sam's life since his first encounter with Bee and with the Transformers has changed so radically this day, that he has become withdrawn.

The last two girls that were to be considered as more than just friends; they had heartlessly dumped him and moved on. Sam, he just did not have the heart in him at present to try again.

Each day now, Sam Witwicky wakes up and looks at himself in his bathroom mirror, and tells himself that he is better off alone. Of course, that deep felling within that he keeps bottled up that are his dwellings in thought of so many long lost friends would label him a liar if it could.

Sam did the same thing he now does every day after returning home from work. He kicks off his shoes, grabs himself a six pack of beer out from the fridge; and drinks himself to sleep. The new recruited industrialist passing out on his living room sofa time and again. This being where his worn out roots do lay.

The flashing from raising energy beamed through various rips, tears and holes of the old canvas tarp, covering the broke down classic Volkswagen Beetle.

Air began to automatically inflate the automobiles tires. Nails picked up from past attempts at driving and from discontented drivers' attitude, ejected from the rubber treads and the puncture holes slowly repaired. The headlights flashed on and off as the electrical systems regenerated.

The radio turned on low. The Metallica song Hero of The Day was playing on the timed intercepted broadcast.

"..... We're off to find the hero of the day....."

The Volkswagen now slowly powered down from the surging reaction of intercepted power signatures. The Volkswagen Beetle was once again silent.

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