Author's Note: The following story/caption is based off the events that took/have taken place in the contents of the comic book series "Tales of the Fallen", Issue #1. This is merely a novelization of what occurred; all credits for the original writing belong to Chris Mowry. Pencils and coloring for the rest of the comic were created by Carlos Magno and Josh Perez. Also, this written Issue is going to be separated into several parts seeing as there's more detail to include than what the comic provides. Enjoy!

… Nearly two years after saving the planet, Sam Witwicky has grown up. It's too bad his friend Bumblebee hasn't. With their friendship strained, Sam sets out for an evening devoid of alien interference. Little does he know that he's being watched. Without his robotic protector, can he beat the Decepticons?...

…

A yellow and black automobile gleamed like droplets of dew on a feathery rose petal in the bright, morning sunshine, whose rays fell in layers upon the manicured roads and snow white houses of the suburbia the Camaro had entered. Brilliant colors splashed together beautifully as trees, rosebushes, tens of varieties of flowers, and garden gnomes littered the property of each homeowner to liven the otherwise colorless area.

While the others are fighting across this planet, I get sent back here.

Fine by me…

…I've missed my friend.

The growl that had forewarned the dwellings surrounding him of his presence transformed into a power-hungry roar, only capable by the finest V8 available in the automotive industry. This symbolic rev that originated from the pure bred muscle car shattered the previously peaceful atmosphere that had settled over the quiet neighborhood, the classic vehicle pulling into a wide driveway that seemed to welcome him as soon as his pitch black tires connected with the gravel. A small, grey and black cat retreated for the safety of overgrowing brush before scrambling up the trunk of a nearby oak, as it was startled out of a nap it had been taking on the same stone driveway, and the family's pet Chihuahua, Mojo, ran like high hell for the front yard of the Witwicky residence, in a desperate attempt to escape the unruly noise. Sam Witwicky glanced away from watering his mother's flowers to get his first glimpse of the gleaming yellow paint job that he had sorely missed.

"Bumblebee!" he cried with eager excitement, hastily dropping the hose he had been gardening with in order to rush to his car. The Autobot screeched to a well-lubricated and -timed stop, moments before his charge planted himself onto the driver's side of the vehicle, fondly pressing his palms against the reassuring metal of his ally.

"It's good to have you back, pal." Sam greeted warmly, patting the roof of the sports car and rubbing the windshield affectionately.

"Glad to… b-be ba—kzzt – back." Bumblebee finally said after several mechanical whirs of protest from his vocal processor. It annoyed the cheerful mech that he couldn't properly emote his feelings of joy, especially when he was equally as excited to be in contact with his best friend once more.

"I heard what happened to your voice. I'm sorry." Sam apologized empathetically, referring to the warrior's encounter with the deceased Decepticon leader's lap-dog, Starscream. He continued: "Ratchet can't fix it?"

Before the Autobot could force out a response of sorts, explaining the complications of his crushed vocalizer, a shrill, female voice pierced the air from nearby. The mech recognized the ensuing sounds as those belonging to Mrs. Judith Witwicky's, or better known as Sam's obnoxiously loud mother.

"Sam! Why is Mojo in the front yard?"Mrs. Witwicky demanded, no doubt anxious to keep any and all living creatures off her meticulous husband's perfect lawn.

"Aww, crap," the Witwicky child breathed, also in full awareness of the danger of their yippy mutt deciding to take a leak on his dad's beloved grass. "I'll be right back," he reassured his companion, obviously hesitant to leave after having just been reunited for a mere couple of seconds. Suddenly, as if having just thought up an ingenious way to make sure that Bumblebee couldn't just rush off to continue his duties with the government elsewhere, Sam added, "Then, I'll need help getting that cat out of the tree."

Optical sensors focused on one particular trunk behind a white picket fence separating the two neighbors' yards as soon as the boy had run off to find his troublesome canine. In its branches held the distorted heat signature of a pathetically tiny and furry mammal, who the Autobot figured to be the target that Sam had charged him with capturing.

Primary objective: acquired, confirmed.

Retrieval of feline entity: initiated.

"Gotcha, you little – what the…?" Sam muttered, just as he had wrapped his hands under the belly of Mojo so his fretful pet couldn't flee once more out of his reach. Several hisses and meows floated into his eardrums, and the rustling of a large tree informed the boy that something definitely weird was going on (as if there was anything normal about the privileges that came with having a sixteen-foot alien robot as a best friend). He forcefully pushed his Chihuahua in the general direction of his house, hoping that the stupid thing would get a clue and retreat inside to cower, then turned and lightly jogged back to where he had left Bumblebee so he could see for himself what the entire ruckus was about.

Sam immediately wished he had given his friend further instructions on how to properly remove a resistant cat from a tree.

"NO NO NO NO NO! Stop it!" Witwicky shrieked once he was positive that his eyes weren't deceiving him and that Bumblebee actually was crouching down in his neighbor's yard, fully assembled in all his robo-glory, tossing a barely rooted tree one way and another as if it were a mere rag doll.

"Gettin' the job done, baby." Bumblebee sang out proudly once the black and grey cat screeched with horror and finally released its claws from the branch it had been clutching, barreling down towards the ground with no mercy in sight for its landing.

Sam thanked God that cats actually did seem to land on their paws, seeing as this particular one would have been subject to immediate death should it have landed on any other part of its body. It managed to stay alive; however, it was dizzy and confused and probably a tad pissed, which was manifest as the poor animal staggered around helplessly for several moments as it tried to get bearings on where it was and what was going on.

"I think you're doing more harm than good, buddy." Sam deadpanned as he and the hovering alien watched the furry creature finally get a hold on its self. It then proceeded to frightfully bound for dear life as far away from the house as it could muster the strength to get; but not before it turned to the troublesome pair, hair on end, and let out a threatening hiss.

Sam heard a chk chk chak chk sound behind him and turned just in time to see his yellow friend stooping down into his sweet car form. No matter how many times Sam managed to bring himself to watching the amazing spectacle, he could never quite get used to seeing something go from robotic killing machine and back to gorgeous Chevrolet automobile so gracefully.

Keeping in mind that, no matter how friendly he was, Bumblebee was still capable of being a little over dramatic, Sam decided to switch the topic to something more basic instead of pursuing the irresponsible behavior the robot had succumbed to.

"So what are you doing here?" The Witwicky boy asked politely, his head continuously dipping downwards as Bumblebee's shape got smaller and smaller.

"Watching over you."

"Really? Am I in trouble?"

"Just sayin' no."

The fact that no true danger was present and yet his guardian was acting so suspicious riled Sam to finally say: "Well, you have to be careful and not show yourself like that. I don't need those reporters snooping around again."

Now in his assumed Camaro alternative-mode, Bumblebee could only let out a few electrical whines of power that eerily reminded Sam of the apologetic noises a child, who had just been caught stealing a cookie out of the eternally forbidden cookie jar, would make.

Trying to lighten the mood, Sam added jokingly: "And just when I start to live a normal life again – bam – witness protection or something."

No noise indicated that the joke had been accepted, or for that matter, understood.

"Glad you're here, though." Witwicky said with a small smile. Then, he remembered the plans he had for tonight and thought of an idea to try and reel Bumblebee back into the human society he had been deprived of for so long… "Miles, Mikaela, and I are going to the movies. Wanna go?"

Bumblebee rippled with confusion at the unforeseen invitation he had been handed. Of course, he did like the boy; he was an interesting specimen, and taught him very interesting things about the cultures and nature of the creatures inhabiting the planet Earth. But to be included in the activities of his "normal" friends (excepting Mikaela, of course) was an open gesture of cemented friendship that, besides confusing the Autobot, also genuinely touched his spark.

That is, until a sly smirk developed on Sam's visage and he added, "I mean, can you drive?"

Bumblebee then fully understood the purpose behind the "invitation" he had been presented.