…..I would like to know where the HELL this Idea popped up in my mind…because….well frankly…good gods, I don't even have words. *sigh* whatever.

Mafiaformers

Chapter One

"No sacrifice , No victory!"

Brown eyes wide in disbelief Samuel Witwicky, or Sam as he preferred to be known as, starred at the junk yard that was barely passing as a used car lot. He glanced sideways towards his father as if to convey his utter dubiety and horror. Ron Witwicky, in return sent his son a stern glare that clearly stated 'you'll take it and like it.' Sam looked away from the unsympathetic gaze of his so-called father and turned to give the minimal required amount of attention to the enthusiastic car sales man, who was babbling along about family. Not that Sam cared; apparently his didn't love him enough, because otherwise he'd be taken to a decent car lot and not this dump heap.

Bobby was way too excited, in Sam's humble opinion, about his crap cars. Sam rolled his eyes as Bobby clasped his shoulder chipperly with a wide smile. Sam prayed he wouldn't turn to his left and punch the supposed 'car sales man' in his merry face. If only just to end his own misery. A glance back at his father showed Ron might have been on the same thought.

"Let me tell you something son-."

"Really wish you wouldn't." Sam grudgingly muttered under his breath.

"A driver doesn't pick a car; a car picks its driver."

Sam skeptically looked at the overly friendly black man as he led them further into the junk yard with a rainbow array of rusted and banged up cars, Sam wondered could even drive off the lot without falling to pieces. His father lagged behind with a slight crease between his eyebrows and the teenager groaned at the sight of more ugly, banged up, falling apart piece of crap. Would this hell never end?

"Now come over here, every piece of car a man might want or need." Bobby proclaimed proudly as he extended his arm out wide to include his entire lot.

In front of the group of three, stood two yellow cars which apparently Bobby thought where worth showing. The old Punch-buggy to Sam's left was hideous in every way of the word, while next to it sat a darker yellow Camaro. Sam approached the car to his left, not even glancing at the hideous yellow thing next to it. His father respectfully followed behind, circling it one.

"This one has racing stripes." Sam declared with a bit of hope in his voice, he looked over the vehicle before opening the door and slipping inside.

Sure it was an old Camaro, ok a really really old and rusted and dirty Camaro but it was nice in an archaic since. The boy ran his hands along the steering wheel relishing the feel of the cool leather beneath his sensitive palms. In the middle of the steering where, encrusted in layers of dirt was an odd symbol that looked like a robotic face of sorts, when Sam rubbed the grim away. His own face cracked in happiness and he couldn't contain the elation he felt rising in his stomach. Ron had bent down to look into the car and caught the smile on his son's lips.

"How much?"

Bobby looked up and down the car before answering. "Well considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and custom paint job-."

"But but but the paints faded."

"It's custom." Bobby said leaning down to leer at Sam through the window his smile becoming predatory.

"Custom faded?" Sam asked unsure, leaning back away from the smile.

"It's you're first car I wouldn't expect you to understand." Bobby said all hints of his cheery disposition faded. He stood up and eyed Ron. "Five grand."

"No, I'm not paying over four, sorry." Ron said with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if it didn't faze him a bit when Sam's face fell.

"Come on kid get out of the car." Bobby said, again his happy face gone.

"No, no, no. You said a car picks its driver." Sam rebottled.

"Well sometimes they pick drivers with a cheap ass father." Bobby replied sternly.

Sam pulled himself out of the car sending his father a glare, he shut the door and was surprised when the passenger door flew open the hit the ugly punch-buggy. He couldn't keep a smile of victory off his face. Thankfully Bobby had walked off, Ron following slight behind nodding thoughtfully, but clearly not paying attention, so the attack on the vehicle when unnoticed. Sam lightly ran his fingers along the side of the Camaro as he walked around the vehicle. He paused at the truck, it looked open. His teenage curiosity got the better of him and he slowly opened it. He'd later deny it but he squeal in fright. Bobby and his father running to see what had caused him to make such a noise. The two men halted next to the boy, each peering over a shoulder.

"Y-You still want it kid?" Bobby stuttered in distress.

Sam nodded mutely, brown eyes locked. Inside of the trunk was a tarp wrapped body. One snow white hand exposed. He wasn't sure why but even with the body he wanted his car. He wanted his car more that he'd ever wanted anything in his life. Bobby backed up from the car and dashed away.

"Two thousand and we not talk about this with the police."

Ron nodded thought fully, rubbing his chin. "Deal."

Sam continued to stare at the body, as the two men walked off. It occurred to the teen that the adults weren't they worried about a dead body in the back of a used car, and Sam didn't even know what they should do with it. Did they turn it in? Burry it? Would its ghost haunt the car? Would it haunt him? Dark thoughts swirled around in his head as Sam's eyes roamed around the trunk. A little bit up from the limp hand a tuff of curry black hair poked out from the top of the blue tarp. Again his teenage curiosity got the better of him and before he could stop himself. He'd reached in and pulled down the tarp to gaze upon the face. The boy could have been maybe only two or three years older than him. His nose was straight and cheeks puffy. He was handsome in a boyish kind of way. A hard face that still spoke of a child's innocence.

His lips purse as he intensely gazed upon the 'boys' face, something seems off. Until he realized that the 'boy' doesn't have eyes. And he can see into the hallow skull, which is obviously made of plastic. He lets out a breath of relief he didn't know he was holding. It was just a doll. A very realistic doll that looked like the dead body of a boy, but still a doll. Shaking his head, Sam scrunched his face and slammed down the trunk. Too much thinking.

Bobby walked back shaking his father's hand and shoving papers into his arms. Ron handed Sam a set of keys with a pat on the back and wink. Bobby shooed them off his lot. As Sam pulled out of the dump heap his father yelled at him to be back by nine. Sam nodded before turning right onto stony fork Boulevard. He stopped at a red light and almost smacked his forehead. What should he do about the doll? Seeing as how this was such a big secret and almost too much for him to contain Sam automatically made the drive to his best friend's house. Miles was the sci-fi buff, maybe he'd know what to do with it.

Chipperly is not a real word...I am aware of that but I like to put –ly at the end of words so just go with it! Thanks for understanding