SLAM!

Sam Witwicky slammed the door to the school shut with such force that it rattled the windows in the door. He half hoped that they would break. But they didn't, and he found himself slightly relieved. He half ran, half jumped down the stairs to the sidewalk, determined to get away from this God-forsaken place. He had just come away from a fight with Mikaela, the woman of his dreams and the woman he loved. He had learned the ugly truth of what her friends had been saying to her; that he wanted her like a trophy, someone to make him popular. This fried him. He tried in every way to explain that he wanted her because he loved her, not because of some popularity contest. After all we have been through, and she STILL thinks I want her for popularity? He thought to himself. He was hurt and angry. She had basically broken up with him, and he still couldn't understand why the hell she would listen to her friends above him, when she should know that-

"Aww, look! Wicky is mad!!"

Sam turned and saw the guy he hated most right now. Trent. His gaze narrowed at Trent, and he stopped as Trent got in his way. Sam looked down, then back up at him.

"Get out of my way, Trent." His voice was darker than usual.

"Aww, why? Are you upset cause your TROPHY walked out on you? Hmm? Serves you right, for taking her from me. This is a good thing, though, Wicky. She was too much girl for you, anyways. Better leave her in the hands of someone who can handle a little girl like that!" He crossed his arms and laughed, looking back at his lackeys, watching them nod in snickers and approval. Sam looked Trent dead in the eyes, not flinching. This guy was saying all the wrong things right now, and he was resisting the urge to sock him one right in the nose.

"Woman." He stared at Trent, watching him raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Woman. Mikaela is a Woman, not a girl. And she deserves FAR better than you. Now get out of my way!" Sam pushed away from him and around him, making a beeline for the yellow camaro that sat in the parking lot. Trent stared after him, like Sam had said something completely stumping. It was times like that that made Sam wish he had really written that book that he spoke of a while back.

He got to the camaro and opened the driver's door, throwing his backpack in. He threw it harder than he had intended and he heard a slight mechanical whine as the backpack hit the inside of the passenger door and thud down onto the seat. He winced slightly.

"Sorry, Bee..." He climbed in and shut the door, the car starting up by itself. He placed his hands on the steering wheel...no sense in freaking people out by not having his hands on the wheel. He sighed heavily. His car obviously knew something was wrong, by the way the next song lyrics played on the radio.

"What is it really, that's goin' on here?-"

Sam had to grin just a bit at that. He always found it amusing how Bumblebee had to, for the most part, speak through the radio. He sighed again.

"It's Mikaela. She...she thinks I want to be with her to be popular. Her friends somehow managed to convince her that I want her as a damned trophy. It's not true..." He took his hands off the wheel as they turned onto a deserted back road headed out to his house. Bee always seemed to know when Sam didn't want to even look like driving. "I wish she wouldn't listen to them sometimes...they fill her head with this nonsense...I love her, Bee...I don't know what to do..."

Apparently, Bumblebee understood him.

"I wandered through fiction to look for the truth, Buried beneath all the lies..." Bee sang out, trying to tell him that he understood and that she needed to look harder at the situation. Sam sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes and resting his hands behind his head. Bee hated seeing him this way, and decided to try cheering him up.

"One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna gitcha,gitcha,gitcha,gitcha,-"

Unfortunately it didn't cheer him up much. He lowered his hands to his lap, getting generally annoyed at the song.

"Bee..." He said in a warning tone. Bumblebee switched songs as they rounded the corner to the driveway, figuring that this would work better for Mikaela's friends.

"-I love to hate you! You're such a liar!-"

But Sam took it the wrong way and slammed his hand down on the seat.

"BEE! KNOCK IT OFF! I am REALLY not in the mood for those songs!" The car pulled into the drive way as Bee shut off the music and switched to his still-damaged vocal processors. His voice came out sounding pained and ragged, like small gears whining and grinding together, catching and shredding.

"I am sorry,Sam. I was merely trying to help you-"

Sam snapped.

"Help me?? I don't need your help! You were the one who got us together, and now look at us! SHE THINKS I WANT HER FOR A POPULARITY CONTEST!"

He got out and slammed the door, forgetting his backpack. He walked away, mumbling something under his breath.

Bumblebee, unfortunately, heard it.

"I wish I had never fought to get that damned A- for my car..."

Bumblebee awoke from his recharging state later on that night, about 2:30am. He had quietly parked himself neatly in the driveway before entering his recharging state, careful not to touch Sam's dad's precious grass.

Bee made a small hissing noise, somewhat akin to a mechanical sigh. He had been deeply hurt by what Sam had said, not realizing that he didn't honestly mean it. Why did Sam seem so upset with him? He had no idea...he had only been trying to help him. Maybe he pushed too far? But how far was too far? He mentally shook his head. Sam didn't even seem to want him around. He noticed that Sam had not even come back out of the house at all. That was not normal. Normally he would have come back out after an hour if he was upset over something, and he would usually sit inside Bee's car form and just talk with him. But this time...he didn't. Bee became increasingly depressed over this...he wanted Sam better. But if Sam didn't want him around...

He fired up his engine quietly, slowly rolling down the driveway and out onto the street. He went slowly down the street for a bit, and when he was satisfied that he could make noise and not wake Sam up, he fired up his secondaries and sped out of there. Bee was confused. He didn't know the human race's ability to handle emotions, but apparently it was way different than the way that his own race did. They managed to control their emotions with relative ease, even in battles. He didn't think they could say the same for the Decepticons. He felt they were rash and brazen. But Sam's race...they were literal rollercoasters. One minute happy, the next pissed off. He didn't understand it. He made another noise like a sigh and sped off onto a deserted highway, taking the long way around to get to the overlook. There he would contact Optimus. If anyone could figure this out, he would be able to. He sped up even more, letting the wind rush under and over his frame and through all the mechanical parts. It actually felt good. If he could have closed his eyes, had they been visible, he would have.

Bee drove for about 20 minutes before he realized he was being followed. But by then, it was too late. A loud bang resounded above him and almost instantly he was damn near ripped off of the street...if it weren't for the fact that there was now a heavy chain net around him. Several vehicles surrounded him momentarily. He struggled, trying to transform, but to no avail. The net around him, which was held down by three foot spikes that had been slammed into the ground by the force of the blast, was too strong. He fought against it again, still trying to transform. Plates of yellow metal moved and shifted, only to return to their original state. He stopped moving long enough to hear footsteps and a familiar voice.

"Well, well, well...what have we here? A runaway camaro!"

Bee recognized the human's voice. The very same human that he very satisfyingly lubricated on back before he got captured the first time. He growled, the sound very much like that of an old muscle car revving up, but it was lower and quieter than that. He didn't bother with music. He switched directly to his vocal processors, knowing that the more he did that, the worse the condition would get, until Ratchet could finally get it fixed. His voice still sounded harsh and jagged, tiny servos and electricity working hard to get his voice working properly.

"Wa-What do you want with me?" He managed to grind out. Simmons just laughed and crossed his arms, standing in front of Bee.

"Why, to finish what I started, my dear yellow bug." He reffered to him as a bug because of his name, Bumblebee. "I plan on continuing my research, and there is nothing ANYONE is going to do to stop me this time. Not you, not your little criminal friend the extortionist, not even Optimus. I have enough jamming frequencies on around here that no one will ever even know we were here to begin with."

Bee realized with a start that he was right. He extended his sensors, finding that there was nothing but fuzz. Great, he thought. I cannot even contact Optimus or anyone for that matter... Simmons waved his hand around, and several military personell surrounded Bee and began coating him in liquid nitrogen, literally freezing him just like last time. He felt his thoughts and processes becoming slower as his metal body responded to the freezing process. His spark actually dimmed a bit, but not life-threatening. His sensors were dimming, too. After 20 more minutes of the freezing, Simmons was satisfied and signaled the helicoptor that had originally fired the net to take him up. Men secured him within the net and the helicopter lifted slowly. Simmons looked up to the sky with great satisfaction. As he watched, an F-22 grazed across the deck(about 20 feet in the air from the ground) with afterburners blazing. Simmons didn't miss the screeching noise that came from it. He raised his walkie-talkie.

"He's secure. We are taking him to the base. Meet us there."

Immediately the F-22 veered off and shot off towards the east, faster than any F-22 would have actually been able to do...

End Chapter 1.