C159 Spark

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Leaving Bernie to deal with Sam and his dad, Peter made his way back to Bumblebee.

The dusty garage at the back of the lot was quiet as Peter stepped inside. The dim light filtered through the grimy windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

There, in the center of the room, was the old yellow Camaro. Despite its beaten-up exterior, Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as he approached the car. This wasn't just any car—this was Bumblebee, one of the most iconic Transformers in history.

Peter admired the car for a moment, running his hand along the faded yellow paint. Then, taking a deep breath, he pulled out the keys and spoke, his voice soft but hopeful. "Hello there, can you hear me?"

The Camaro remained still, its engine silent, showing no signs of life. Peter waited in anticipation, but there was no response. Bumblebee didn't move, didn't speak—he just sat there like any other old car.

Peter frowned, wondering if Bumblebee didn't realize he was talking to him. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Umm, this feels weird talking to a car, but I know you're more than just a car. My scanners detected you as a living life form, so could you… talk to me? Can you understand me?"

Again, there was nothing. The silence in the garage was almost deafening as Peter waited for a response that never came. He couldn't help but feel a bit foolish standing there, talking to what appeared to be an inanimate object.

Frustration began to build as Peter tried to make sense of the situation. He knew Bumblebee was alive—his ship's sensors had confirmed that. But for some reason, the Autobot wasn't responding.

At first, Peter wondered if Bumblebee was ignoring him because he wasn't Sam, but that didn't make sense. In this universe, Sam wasn't connected to the AllSpark, so Bumblebee had no reason to favor him.

In the movies, Bumblebee and the Autobots specifically sought out Sam because his great-great-great-grandfather discovered the AllSpark and left clues leading to its location.

However, in this universe, the AllSpark was discovered by the Nazis and later seized by Shield after the war, so Bumblebee and the Autobots would have no reason to favor or target Sam.

Peter's mind raced as he considered other possibilities. What if Bumblebee wasn't ignoring him? What if he was injured or even… asleep? The idea struck Peter like a bolt of lightning, and his concern deepened.

With that thought in mind, Peter walked up to the car, placing his hand gently on the hood. "I'm just going to give you a quick once-over to see if you're alright. Pardon the intrusion."

As he said this, his hand began to glow faintly with the Force as he used Mech-Deru to scan Bumblebee. He didn't know much about Cybertronian technology, but he hoped that the Force would help him identify any abnormalities.

As Peter's senses delved into the intricate systems of the car, he felt a strange mixture of advanced technology and organic life.

This was definitely Bumblebee—he could feel the life force emanating from the machine, though it was faint and weakened, which was concerning.

The deeper Peter probed, the more worried he became. He expected some kind of reaction from Bumblebee, maybe even a defensive response, but there was nothing.

The silence and stillness persisted, which only fueled Peter's anxiety. Was Bumblebee… dead? But that didn't make sense—his ship's sensors had detected a life signal.

Something was wrong…

Then, after several minutes of careful probing, Peter finally found the source of the problem. 'Huh, what's that?'

Hidden deep within the car's chassis, connected to what seemed to be a neural network, was a spherical core that glowed with an electric light. It looked like some sort of central processor—possibly a brain or heart, or both. But the core wasn't intact; it was cracked, its energy flickering weakly.

Peter's eyes widened in realization. 'Is this his spark?'

The spark was the core of a Transformer's life force, their very essence. If it was damaged, it could explain why Bumblebee wasn't responding—he was in a state akin to a coma.

But then a more troubling thought crossed Peter's mind: how did Bumblebee's spark get damaged in the first place? Was it the result of a battle with a Decepticon? If so, that could mean that a Decepticon had followed him to Earth…

Peter's mind buzzed with questions, but as much as the idea of Decepticons on the planet concerned him, there was something more immediate that needed his attention—fixing Bumblebee.

"Let's see if I can fix you up," Peter muttered.

With a deep breath, Peter placed both hands on the hood this time, focusing his mind and channeling the Force. The energy surged through him, flowing into Bumblebee's systems, spreading through the intricate network of circuits and components like a wave of healing light.

As the Force moved through the Camaro, Peter could feel the various systems responding to his touch. Rusted parts began to renew, worn-out mechanisms started to function again, and the overall structure of the car began to strengthen.

The advanced Cybertronian technology, despite being foreign to him, responded to the Force in ways that felt natural, almost as if it was meant to be repaired in this way.

Minutes passed as Peter meticulously repaired everything he could find wrong with the Autobot, all while ensuring its outer appearance remained unchanged for now.

After all, if Bernie returned to find the Camaro he just sold suddenly in perfect condition, he would certainly have a lot of questions.

As time passed, Peter could feel Bumblebee becoming stronger, more stable, as the Force worked its way through every nook and cranny of the car.

But then, as Peter's energy reached the core of the problem—Bumblebee's spark—he encountered a barrier…

The crack in the spark was severe, and no matter how much Force energy he directed toward it, he couldn't repair the damage. It was as if the spark was beyond the reach of even the most advanced techniques of Mechu-Deru.

'Come on, motherf*cker!' Peter gritted his teeth in frustration, pushing harder, trying to will the spark to mend, but it was no use.

The crack remained, the energy flickering weakly as before. It was as if the damage went beyond physical repair, something deeper and more intrinsic to Bumblebee's very being.

Finally, Peter had to admit defeat, pulling his hands away from the car and letting out a sigh. "…"

He had done all he could, but it wasn't enough. Bumblebee's systems were functioning, but without a fully repaired spark, the Autobot was still in a state of dormancy.

Peter guessed that if he wanted to fully restore Bumblebee, he would have to use the AllSpark. But using it here, in such an exposed location, wasn't an option.

He had no idea if activating the AllSpark would send out signals that could attract attention—attention from Autobots, Decepticons, or worse. It was a risk he couldn't afford to take, not when the stakes were so high.

"Not here," Peter muttered to himself, taking a step back, his mind made up. 'I need to find a more secure place before I try anything with the AllSpark.'

As if on cue, Bernie came walking over, a satisfied look on his face after wrapping up business with Sam and his father.

"Hey there," Bernie called out, a slight grin on his face as he approached Peter. "The tow truck should be here in a few minutes."

Peter nodded, acknowledging Bernie's efforts. "Thanks," he replied, though his mind was already working on a different plan. "But before that, I'd like to see if I can get it started myself. I did some work on it while you were busy."

Bernie raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You're welcome to try since it's your car now, but I've been working on that Camaro for years. Not once has it even sputtered to life. I'll be impressed if you can get it started after just a half-hour of fiddling with it."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he approached the driver's side door and pulled it open. He slid into the seat, the familiar, slightly worn interior greeting him, complete with a Cybertronian insignia on the steering wheel.

With a calm, steady hand, he inserted the key into the ignition, his fingers brushing against the worn metal as he turned it.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension hanging thick in the air…

Bernie stood nearby, arms crossed. "See? Like I said, it's been nothing but a headache. I'd eat my own shoe if you could get this thing running in such a short—"

But then, with a low, rumbling growl, the Camaro's engine roared to life, the sound filling the garage with a deep, resonant purr.

Bernie's jaw dropped in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the—! How in the world…?"

Peter glanced over at Bernie with a knowing smile, keeping his voice casual. "Like I said, just a little bit of work. Sometimes all it takes is the right touch."

Bernie shook his head, still stunned by what he was seeing and hearing. "I can't believe it. I've been trying to get this thing running for years, and you… you just…" He trailed off, unable to find the words to express his astonishment.

Peter just smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment as he listened to the steady rumble of Bumblebee's engine. Though the Autobot was still far from fully functional, this was a step in the right direction.

Bernie finally found his voice again, still shaking his head in amazement. "Well, I'll be damned. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."

"So, are you going to eat your shoe or what?" Peter asked, a sh*t-eating grin spreading across his face.

Bernie looked sheepish. "Well, I was just..."

Peter laughed, shaking his head good-naturedly. "I'm just kidding," he said, receiving a relieved sigh in return. "But hey, it looks like I won't be needing that tow truck after all."

Bernie chuckled, still shaking his head as he took a step back from the car. "I guess so."

With that, Peter gave Bernie a final nod before shifting the Camaro into gear. The engine's purr grew louder as he guided Bumblebee out of the garage.

On his way out of the lot, something caught Peter's eye—a familiar face, sulking in the driver's seat of a beat-up blue sedan. It was Sam Witwicky, slumped over the wheel, his expression a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

Sam's day had taken a nosedive. What should have been an exciting milestone—getting his first car—had instead turned into a lesson in disappointment.

All the plans he had, the hopes of impressing Mikaela, the dreams of cruising down the road in something cool, had been crushed. And now, here he was, stuck with this old blue clunker while someone else drove off with the only car on the lot that had sparked any excitement in him.

Sam watched with bitter envy as Peter's yellow Camaro—'his' yellow Camaro, as far as he was concerned—roared to life and smoothly exited the lot. The sound of the engine was like a taunt, a reminder of what he could have had if things had just gone a little differently.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white as he glared after the disappearing car. It wasn't fair—none of it was. He had been so close, and yet, somehow, everything had slipped through his fingers.

Sam's thoughts churned, a mix of resentment and regret swirling in his mind. He couldn't help but feel like the universe was against him, that no matter what he did, things just wouldn't go his way.

As Peter's Camaro disappeared into the distance, Sam let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. He knew he should just be grateful that he had a car at all, but that didn't make the disappointment any easier to swallow.

For a moment, he sat there, lost in his thoughts, before finally turning the key in the ignition. The blue sedan sputtered to life with a groan, a far cry from the roar of the Camaro that had just left the lot. With one last glance at the empty garage where the yellow car had been, Sam shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot, heading home.

A/N: 2126 words :)

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