~(Y/N)'s POV~

     I was excited, exuberant, joyous, giddy, fragging super-cala-fragile-istic-expy-ala-docious! Adjusting Knockout's rear view mirror, I watched Dad's pick up draw up behind us in the abandoned LA parking lot (We bridged there, curtousy of Soundwave).

         "You sure you want to introduce your Sire to the Street racing drama you wound up in?" I heard him ask.

         "Well, better to tell him now than surprise him later with a shooting or something, knowing Tyson, he probably has a price on my head. Speak of the Devil, here he comes now... and with that dame... she called herself 'Lucky', right?"

         "How about you give them a good greeting?" Knockout chuckled, and I came up with an absolutely wicked idea.

         "Or we both can."

The forming of his human self was an answer enough as he smoothly made his way from the passenger seat, me from the driver's. Dad followed suit, finding a place a few paces away.

         "Well, ain't it the traitor, and the green eyed monster." I sneered, just a step in front of Knockout. 

I wasn't surprised the two got together, they have a common rivalry: me. And to be honest, the fake reporter was really working those high heels... to bad they're blue.

         "Green eyed monster?" Lucky twittered, practically clinging to a cocky Tyson, "What's that supposed to mean?"

         "Well, for those who are un-educated in proper English metaphors, that means your jealous."

         "HA! What is there to be jealous of?"

         "Not knowing how to show off your man, for instance."

    Leaning back, I swung my arm up, hooking my hand around Knockout's neck as support. I simply hung there as he caressed my other hand, his free one holding my extended side. I knew Dad was being sightly protective at this point, hearing the shuffling of his feet as he debated whether to intervene or not. I was glad he didn't, or else I wouldn't have gotten the satisfaction of the two becoming overly awkward in showing their affections, Tyson now as stiff as a board.

         "You two just don't compare." I sighed, wanting some competition for once.

         "Is that so?" Tyson looked to be as if he was ready to gloat, "How many do you have on your team?"

My interest peaked, I stood back up, though Knockout kept a hand on my shoulder.

         "Enough." I answered, "Though I'd be terribly embarrassed if you didn't show up with more, it'd be far to easy to beat you." I stated sweetly, earning a dark chuckle in return.

         "They call me the Doctor now, and this," he snapped his fingers, and I found my small group of three surrounded by many a racer in pure black helmets, "is my staff. Every single tool I need to dissect your reputation, is right here, of course, Lucky here is our sweet little nurse." He pulled her close, to which she reacted to with a small kitten like squeak.

         "Sheesh," Knockout started, "How many Harlots do you have to go through in order to feel good about yourself."

I snickered as Tyson spluttered, and Lucky looked up at him with a rather confused look.

         "And seriously, that medical analogy was totally cheesy, and a waist of our time."

I nodded in agreement.

         "Besides," Knockout continued, "A dissection table is much more comfortable than the labotomy table you were strapped to." I couldn't help but chuckle as he hugged me from behind.

Tyson, now red in the face, pointed an accusing finger at us, the opposite that held Lucky as she looked at us with the same amount of hate as her street racer wanna-be.

         "Tomorrow, noon exactly, the abandoned power plant, bring your team, and you better pray that you have what it takes."

He snapped his fingers, and the conglomoration of hidden faces followed him as he went off to find some other racers to fawn over him.

I turned to Dad.

         "What do you say to finding you a decent race car?"

         "Uh, no." He dead panned, "That," He pointed in the direction of Tyson, "Is all your problem."

         "Oh come on! Don't you wanna kick a little aft?"

         "(Y/N), you're talking to a retired Decepticon spy, I think my days of kicking aft have passed."

         "Dad," it was my turn to dead pan, "Roman died, and then came back. HE still wants to kick some aft!"

         "I don't think this once will hurt, Scythe," Knockout took my side, "Besides, you aren't fighting, you're racing."

Dad shook his head, scratching behind it as he thought.

         "I don't know," digging his shoe into the pavement, he started rattling off the reasons why he shouldn't be on this team I had completely bluffed about, "It doesn't help I've never even set foot in any sort of racing vehicle," he shrugged, "But I know how to drive a flat bed well enough."

Taking this into consideration, I looked up at Knockout, the same inquisitive expression on his face. Nodding in unison, we both came to the same solution. I started first.

         "We could always -"

         "Switch your engine."

~Roman's POV~

         "You guys are crazy!" I yelled at them as we turned into an autobody shop, "I'm SO in!"

         "Thought you would," (Y/N) answered, a wide smile on her face as she turned Knockout's steering wheel, parking at the side of the shop, "We'll find you a proper car as well, this guy was my first employer, so we go way back!"

         "Is that so?" Knockout fizzled into existance, planting a short kiss on (Y/N)'s cheek.

         "Seriously?" Did he have to show affection right in front of me?

         "You," (Y/N) pointed at me, "You stay quiet, and turn on your holoformic skin, 'M' will want to know you and your personality to fit you with the right car."

She quickly got out, and I followed suit, same with Knockout.

         " 'M' ?"

I only received a giggle in response as she knocked on the back door. It was a good few minutes before it was thrown wide open, and (Y/N) was enveloped in a big bear hug.

         "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD YA IDJIT!" The large man hollered, though there was no need, as far as I could tell anyway.

         "Hiya, Bill." (Y/N) giggled as she was set back down, "How's the little ones?"

         "Oh they're fine, still wanting to tear up my forgery papers, but just fine!" He boomed, the surprising amount of hair on his arms and face practically making him look like some sort of blonde Bigfoot, "Who's your pals?"

         "This," She pulled me up in front, despite my mild protest, "Is my brother, Roman, this is my boyfriend, Knockout, and this," She moved slightly to reveal Dad, "Is my father."

         "Well how do-ya do? I'm Bill, what you all doing here?"

         "Roman needs a car, a good one, and Dad needs his engine replaced."

         "And your boyfriend here?"

         "A good wash would do." (Y/N) giggled, and I laughed as Knockout took instant offence, Bill laughing his deep boom of a laugh, though we all knew he took it a completely different way.

         "Come on in, the Boss will be more than happy to see his favorite apprentice."

     The inner works of the shop, was busy to say the least. Just about every car of make and model from any country was there! I couldn't count them even with my new processor! It was hard not to get lost as we were all led to a small office at the back corner, fans blowing every which way to keep the heat of the shop from affecting who ever was inside.

         "Oi, boss!" Bill bellowed over the noise, "You'll never believe who just dropped by!"

The first thing I saw, was the head of an old man... His hair was grey, and though he had many an age line, he only had a few wrinkles. Either way I found it weird as he came out with a slight limp, and hugged (Y/N), giving her a kiss on each cheek.

         "Is it true? 'As my 'ittle Butterfly veturned?"

Welp, the accent explains a lot.

         "How are you Moriarty?"

(Y/N) greeted as she pulled away from his embrace.

         "Cha! Better now zat you 'ave veturned! The aging, it is no good to me!"

The two laughed, and my sister introduced us once again. I took note of Bill's absence.

         "Ah, close kin! I am in joyful mood you found them! But," The short man wondered, "Why bring them hear? This is hardly place for reunion!"

         "Let's just say that I've made my enemies," (Y/N) chuckled, "I'm sorry to say that the Blue Butterfly has been lost, but I'm known as Knockout now-"

         "Zat ist you!? I have heard it many a time, you are known everywheres then, no?"

         "Most indeed, but I lied about having a crew, so I convinced my small family of misfits to join me, the only problem is, one needs a car, and the other has never set foot in one."

         "And you tink I have ze solution?"

         "I know you have ze solution."

     The two laughed once again, and (Y/N) told this Moriarty character what was needed, and asked how much it would cost to have it done. To this he shook his head, claiming there to be no charge except for the promise of winning this crew V.S. crew match. I shook my helm violently behind Moriarty, knowing it to be a lunatic promise. Of course, I was ignored as (Y/N) said:

         "Haven't lost anything so far."

Hanging my helm, completely exasperated with my idiot of a sister, I gave a short yell as I was pulled to the side by Moriarty. I guess he was giving me the once-over as he walked in a circle. I was wearing my usual leather jacket, to long, dark blue jeans and grey shirt. I probably could have chosen better shoes though... the black and white converse were a little clashy...

         "He 'as the... what do you call eet? 'Cliche' persona... dark, brooding... though these eyes," He pulled my head down as he examined the sharp emerald orbs, "I wouldn't t'ange a thing because of zem... Zey pop! Like ze fireworks!" He let go, and I re-adjusted the metal workings that had been disturbed, "Me thinks ze Impala will do!"

     With that he led our group to the garage part of the shop, my optics beholding the biggest selection of cars I had ever seen. There were Mustangs, Impalas, Pontiacs, Porsches, Corvettes, and another selection of regular, every-day vehicles as well, Toyotas, Hondas, Jeeps, Fords, Dodges. I think that was a Kia behind those two Subarus. Once again I found that I couldn't count the number of different cars, but not a one mattered once we found our way to the Impala chosen for me.

She was sleek, a pure oily black that looked as if she was pure liquid, dark green pinstriping down her doors and her hood. Looking at the undercarriage, I found the faint signs of lighting just under the edge of the doors.

         "She vas a junkyard find!" Moriarty said with pride.

         "The poor thing," (Y/N) sighed, "Who would do such a thing to such a beauty."

         "BA!" He exclaimed, "Racer's, zey 'ave no connection to vehicle any more! Car starts to even rattle and suddenly, BLAM! Put down like rabid dog." He spit, anger apparent.

         "Well," I started, getting back up from the ground, "She won't ever feel lonely when I'm driving her."

         "Zat is what me likes to hear!"

He handed me the keys, and I was left to enjoy her black and dark green leather interior, while they went to talk about the exchanging of Dad's engine.

         "Let's give Tyson a race to remember, ay' beautiful?"

I turned the key. 

(Gotta love some of those classic cars. Car enthusiast, guilty as charged :) Haha! Moriarty is one of my favorite characters I've made so far XD He's just so sweet! Thanks for reading!)