How do I help? How can I help the Decepticons when there is nothing I can do as a portrait artist for the Decepticons. Megatron assigned Soundwave to be my guardian aka my protector. Which also means in the words of a child'The adult got a babysitter' without any loose hanging reasons.I had my elbow leaning against the gray frame joining up to the window shield.

"Question: Does Auto enjoy shopping?" Soundwave asks.

"No." I said. "Reason: Auto does not want her legs to be exhausted searching for one thing in the mall."

"Soundwave: only asking since Auto is staring at radio awkwardly." Soundwave said.

I had a short laugh.

"You are easy to unnerve." I said, staring bright back at his radio.

"Soundwave: Not easy to unnerve." Soundwave said.

I smirk, just thinking this robot just very much contradicted himself.

"Why my birthday?" I ask. "What is so important about becoming 19?"

"Birth cycle: you decide your alliance."  Soundwave said.

Knock Knock Knock went a hand on the window.

Soundwave rolls down the window shortly after the knocking had come to.

"Hey, Auto!" Came Richard Steel's  deep yet broad and uniquely ancient voice. He likes to be called Steel, unlike what many people think he prefer to go by Rich, by his peers."What you doing in a 2012 Mercades?"

"Chilling." I said,looking out to see Steel's bald head.

Steel reminds me of a younger version of Van Diezel.

Seriously he's got the looks of a hot bald Van Diezel somewhere in his mid-sexy thirties.

"In a 2012 Mercedes." Steel said, cocking up a brow.

"It is 2015; doesn't mean the other car generations are out of style." I said.  "Look at the yoga pants they recently came back in style!"

"Uh, no." Steel said,lowering his eyebrow. "The big disco hair is the one that has recently come back in style."

"No it hasn't." I said.

"Yes, it has." Steel said, nodding.

I gave up trying to stir an argument with Steel. It is useless against him; very much. Steel is right most of the time in conversations like these. I lower my head then shook it making a low defeated sigh.

“Fine.”  I said.

“Good.” Steel said. “Now, answer my question   young lady.Because now it seems you are waiting for the driver inside the JC Pennys.”

Soundwave did not make any sort of comment.

“No.” I said. “My driver is the car.”

Steel looks to the drivers wheel then back towards me.

“Is this a specifically advanced car that looks like a 2012 model?”

“His name is Soundwave.” I said. “He is a communications specialist to an alien living helicopter capable of becoming a robot named Megatron.”

“Uh huh.” Steel said, not convinced.  “I assume this Megatron is not named after a teleporting machine in Tron Legacy.”

“Soundwave: Not familiar with Tron Legacy.” Soundwave finally said.

Steel’s face became a form of disbelief. It then gets replaced by a amused one.

“Nice add on to the car.” Steel said.  “Almost fooled me.”

Soundwave opens the passenger door.

“Suggestion: Find Samuel WitWicky in JC Pennys.” Soundwave said. “Auto: Needs all the help she can get.”

“And such a very nicely created voice machine for an old model.” Steel said.

I get out of the car.

Megatron had shown me what Sam WitWicky, through a hologram, currently looks.Since the beginning of time, and history, there are some ‘coincidence’ moments where the most required item is in the hands someone in a place the destined one is familiar to. I twirl one piece of my hair into a knot coming around Soundwave’s front vehicle mode.

“It is because he’s an alien.” I said.

“From an alien movie.” Steel said, with a laugh. “Really clever.”

“This time you’re  wrong, Richard.” I said,going past Steel.

“Hey!” Steel shouts, following after me.  “It is Steel to you.”

I heard Soundwave’s wheels braze by the bumpy road—Don’t ask me what braze means, I have no idea what it means—making two honks that would usually belong to a geese. Whenever Steel is around then Jacob Blanch must be close by; they were the best of friends. Both of them preferred to be called by their last names, no surprise, while being thick  as thieves. Yes, if I were to write a book about these two then they would be called ‘Steel’ and ‘Blanch’.

“Nicknames aren’t your first names.” I said.

“Irish people call others by their last names.” Steel said.

“You’re not Irish.” I said. “You’re…Canadian.”

“Which means we have some Irish.” Steel said.

“No, there are some people who have a messed up form of Irish in the United States like Southeners.” I said.

“So screw logic on Accents.” Steel said as we went through the doors.  “We all have some Irish in us.”

“If we were talking about a president from Kansas then that would be a good argument.” I sarcastically said.

“We do have a president from Kansas.” Steel said.

“No, we have one from Illinois.”  I said. “He’s the first black President in History; Barrack Obama who actually did something by going after a worldwide hated terrorist and took him down using earth forces.”

“Well, he’s kind of the Lame Duck right now.” Steel said.

“Then who’s the not-so-lame President at the moment?” I ask.

“Congress.”  Steel said.

I had a little laugh at Steel’s reply.

“Congress is more than one person.” I said, getting a cart.

“Oh.” Steel said. Like I said; Steel is right…most of the time. There are times where he is wrong including subjects that make no sense at all.  “But there are a lot of people who go by their last names.”

“Auto is not my last name.” I said. “It is Bale.”

“I get it.” Steel said. “What I mean to say is that there are some people, in some nationalities, who prefer to be called by their last names.”

I went over in my head about what Megatron had gone about telling me how important those glasses are. Also that he is sending Brawl and Barricade on some mission that he wouldn’t bother to explain other than that ‘this does not require your involvement; perhaps you should use this time to get to know your protector Soundwave’ in the most simple way possible. I turn towards Steel.

“Listen, Steel, you know how I am not normal?” I ask.

“You can drive, even when you’re intoxicated, and act unaffected.” Steel said.

I stare at Steel in half disbelief and half trying to imagine why we're still friends.

“…That is because I am not effected.” I said. “Tell me, where’s Blanch?”

“He’s browsing the chick  clothes for his girlfriend Lassie.” Steel said, casually.

 I had to forget the picture of Lassie the sheep herding dog out of my mind and think of it as a woman. It made remembering the girl,the one I knew of with the boys, who had the last name ‘Lassie’ pretty easy.I recalled a woman with curly dirty blonde hair, a small white jacket with a black hood, small freckles, fairly blue eyes, blue shorts, and rosy red lips. It was easy to remember—and identify her—Lassie while imagining her wearing a cowboy hat and holding a gun in a serious manner like a cop.

“Carly Lassie?” I ask.

Steel nods.

“That chick.”  Steel said, snapping his fingers. "That cowgirl chick."

“I am part robot, part human.” I  begin explaining to Steel.  “My dad is an alien robot named Starscream; flight commander and he’s currently an hostage to the Autobots.” I showed him a picture of the Decepticon symbol, yet, Steel did not look convinced at all by my story. “The parents you know are the one who adopted me.”  I zip past a stunned Steel. “Nice to chat with you!”

Lassie didn’t always go out and do shopping for clothes; if ever, never.

Lassie, as far as I recall, despises going out to the store for some reason.

I went down the hall to the building hearing a buzzing in my ear.

“Soundwave: to Auto.” Soundwave’s voice came in my ear. “Question: Did you lose Richard?”

“This isn’t going to seem right to a couple security cameras.” I said, out loud.

“Auto: has lost Richard’s attention.” Soundwave said.

I straightened my back, lower my elbows, and quicken my pace.

“Damn straight, I never had his attention in the first place!”  I shout, OUT LOUD in a damn store!

Ooopsy, I just startled a couple shoppers.

Nope that is not an oopsy that is just an open door to being awkward.

“Soundwave: Wouldn’t advise you try saying that in public.” Soundwave said.

“I already did.” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“Soundwave: bringing up beeping system to find Sam.” Soundwave said.

A high pitch wail enters my ears.

“DAMN THAT IS ONE LOUD BABY!” I shout, plugging in my ears.

“Beeper: not a baby.” Soundwave said.

“…Same sounds different source.” I said, looking over to see a young man standing beside a blonde curly chick.

Oh boy another Carly. I bet her name is Carly WitWicky; look old enough and have enough rings to be called a married couple. I grab a clothes hanger then put it into the basket seeing a familiar headshape in the distance over clothes. This kind of reminds me of the distance over miles formula in math that I never, not ever, use. Except for when this is part of a Physical Science guessing game set in a TV Game.I come over to the man, who in reality is Samuel Witwicky, ignoring the wailing going on in my ears.

“Beeper; has been turned off.”  Soundwave’s voice came over.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” I said.

“For…what?” Sam said,looking at me quite puzzled.

“For telling me you have a pair of glasses I bought and telling me where to find you.” I lied, on the spot.

"I...don't remember doing that." Sam said.

"Soundwave: Setting up messages on Sam's phone." Soundwave said.

"Go at 'em, boy." I said, with a snicker.

"...Now you're just weird." Sam said.

"Check your phone." I said, seeing Carly browsing the men's clothes down the rack.

Wait, wasn't she RIGHT beside Sam?

It is obvious to me that she is slowly and slowly itching herself several perimeters away from Sam as she can get.

"Soundwave: fake messages have been completed." Soundwave's voice came in my ear.

"Okay." Sam said, taking his phone out. He shares a quick suspicious look towards me then turned on his phone that is an older model, light weight, small screen, very easy to hold in the hands, so much an artist like me could determine it was made in 2013.  "So I did."

"Yes." I said.

"For the glasses." Sam said, looking up from the screen. "You are the second person today to approach me about my grandfather's glasses."

I could feel hope in my eyes while grabbing a pair of shirts from the rack.

"Do you still have it?" I ask.

"No." Sam said.  "I gave it to the Blanch guy down browsing the women's clothes."

I look up to see The Carly Witwicky chick isn't in this row of clothes but now at the distant bumpy head over the row of clothes. I knew she was there because it seemed to be an obvious deduction when the edge of her high heel stood out at the corner. I head over pushing my cart grabbing random clothes that my hands could get on without making it very obvious what my reasons going over to them were.Besides who wants to be super duper suspicious on the security footage?

I made sure not to grab too many clothes, that would be over doing it grabbing many, right into the cart.