Summary: Mission City wasn't the safest of places but Amanda Callahan wasn't the safest of people to be around. When strange robots decide to duke it out in her city Amanda gets caught in the crossfire. Now with a hospital bill a mile long, a voice in her head, several robots to take care of and underground fight ring calling from her Amanda wondered if she should have ever woke up in the morning.

That's Life

The dimly lit streets of Mission City were empty and quite. This wasn't unusually at five thirty in the morning. Neither was the young woman that jogged down the street. Dressed in lose fitting sweats she continued down the street oblivious to the sounds of the city waking. Keeping her hands tucked close to her body she paused at an intersection jogging in place before checking both ways.

Continuing on she listened to the music playing over her headphones as the world passed by her. Music was the only thing to calm her contently running mind. If she didn't have it she would worry about making it to work on time, about paying the bills, about her father's mental and physical health along with so many other things. She shook her head clearing the building thoughts to focus on the music.

Her breath came out in short puffs of white smoke as the city began to move around her. People coming from their houses to let the dog out, maybe to catch the first rays of the sun, some even came out for their first cigarette of the day. The woman sniffed and rubbed at her cold nose as she turned a corner. The sidewalk was starting to become active as she had to start stepping out of the way for a few early dog walkers.

On the far end of the street was her destination. It was an old building that had once been the training grounds for amazing boxers. They were ones that no one could touch or the ones that would have a knock out with a single blow. You once could hear the beating of bags, the yelling of coaches and cheering of spectators from half way down the street. The woman stopped and pushed back her hood looking at the fading building with soft, sad eyes. Now there was silence.

Pulling her headphones around her neck she pushed open the discolored entrance and stepped in. The smell of cedar tried to take the place of years of sweat and blood but it could only mask it for so long. The woman walked across the concrete floor passing the ring. Her hand caressed the mat as she continued on towards an office door in the back.

Opening the office door she sighed and looked over at the man stretched out over the desk. He had an empty bottle of whiskey in his one hand while the other was curled under him somewhat supporting his aged face. Rolling her eyes the woman crossed the room and threw out the bottle; her hand came up and gently rested on the older man's shoulder.

"Papa." She said gently giving him a shake. The man grumbled into his arm. "Papa come on I have to get you to bed."

"I'm fine." He mumbled low.

"No it's bad for your back."

"Only place that feels right without Mary." He yawned sitting up and the woman stepped back. He only leaned back into the chair falling somewhat back to sleep.

Her eyes scanned the desk. Several half smoked cigars along with bills were scattered across it; some clearly due months ago some that were brand new. An empty shot glass was near the edge of the desk close her father while another full one sat directly across from it. A name plate was on the floor and the woman leaned down to pick it up. Her fingers brushed the letters spelling out Peter J. Callahan.

She looked at the once legend who was now only a fallen down drunk with nothing but dusty memories that came and went. Glancing up on the wall she could see the once proud boxer. He once could have matched the top guys blow for blow. PJ Callahan had been a power house dropping guys left and right. Winning but never getting into the league because he wanted to stay near his wife; Mary.

When Mary had passed PJ lost his light he didn't have the passion any more to be a boxer, to even be a father. Sighing the woman knew she had to get him out of here for the day. Setting the name plate on the desk the woman crouched and pulled one of PJ's arms around her shoulder. With a low grunt she lifted the heavy old man to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing, Marty?" PJ groused starting to come around as they walked. "I can still fight."

"It's me Papa." She said carefully.

The man lifted his head and looked at her blinking. A small smile crossed his face. "Amanda?" She forced a smile as he spoke her name through the stank of whiskey and cheap cigars. "How's my little champ doing?"

Tears pricked her eyes at the old name. "Great Papa." She lied.

"That's good. That's good." He said nodding as they slowly crossed the room to the freight elevator.

Amanda stabilized him against the wall and pulled closed the gate before pulling the lever. The elevator began to rise up to the second floor and stopped. It was strange to have a freight elevator but before the Gym's business had stuttered out to near nonexistence they had had some clients that watched the bouts that didn't want to mingle with the lower class; as they had called the regulars. So to keep up with their classy demands they had added the elevator and balcony seats so an overhead view could be seen.

At the time she didn't understand what lower class meant but over the years she learned and became a quick study at telling classes. She had learned about it from the bullies at school, from the men at the bouts, and life in general seemed to look down its nose at her. She resisted the urge to growl as the elevator stopped. After opening up the gate she hoisted PJ up again slowly making their way down the hall. He was mumbling things, talking to ghosts.

Amanda caught bits and pieces of what he said. He was talking to Marty, who was his coach and she could remember was a tall yet strangely stocky guy with olive skin and black hair; if she remembered right he always claimed to be pure blood Italian. Another way of separating each other humans enjoyed. Reaching a wood door she lifted one foot and kicked it near the knob causing it to jolt open. Adjusting PJ she continued on listening to him ramble.

Her mother Mary was another topic in his mumbling. They both missed her but Amanda knew it wasn't the same. She had lost a mother at 10 while PJ had lost his other half of 30 years. They were born and raised together and they both knew they were meant to be. She was his soul or his fire as he referred to her when he started to drink or was on occasion sober.

With an undignified grunt Amanda dropped him into bed. She pulled off his boots and tossed a blanket over him. Turning away she saw a picture laying down on his night stand. Picking it up she looked at the photo and sighed. It was of her mother and her when she was five. Like her mother she had straight red hair and dark brown eye yet she had taken after her father's frame. Being taller than normal but with a broad chest and what her mother had jokingly called birthing hips. Setting the picture back up Amanda headed towards the door.

"Mandy?" She paused looking back at the sleep hazed voice. "Mandy, baby girl?" Worry and fear laced his voice as he called out again.

She sighed softly answering; "Yes Papa?"

"I thought you felt me too, champ." He said slipping off to sleep.

"I won't leave you, Papa." She answered back softly before closing the door.

Amanda growled low to herself allowing her mood to shift. She was roaring pissed now she had to clean the office again and find out which bills were new and the correct total on them. Add in all the calls she would have to make. She slammed the lever down on the elevator.

"I'm gonna be here all fucking day." She snarled out low glaring at the cage of the elevator as it stopped. Snapping it open she stormed across the room back to the office. Her anger dwindled slightly as she saw the state it was in. Amanda began her work of cleaning up.

She could blame him for everything that has ever happened to her but at 27 she has just stopped caring. The fuming after she found him drunk was mainly at herself for letting him do it but she was working on her anger. Amanda by no fault other than her attitude had earned the reputation as a pit viper and was treated as such. She was hot tempered and she knew it but that didn't make her any less of a person. She didn't need people whispering to stay away from her, that she was too dangerous to be loose.

Pausing in her cleaning she bit back tears. There had to be someone out there to help her, to be her other half, to buffer the inferno that was her versus the world. The sadness and the loneliness turned to rage and absently she punched the desk before taking the shot of whiskey for herself and going back to her task.

Amanda had been wrong it hadn't taken her all day only four hours. She settled down in the desk chair and flung her feet up on the desk. Sighing she reached to the side grabbing the stack of bills. Browsing through them she was keeping a running total of the costs she had to make up for when the edge of the desk dropped out from under her feet. Snapping back up Amanda scowled at the desk. It came to her that she had punched the poor thing and rolled her eyes to look at her hand. The knuckles were turning a funny color and she poked them there came a stinging sensation.

"Perfect I bruised them." She grumbled before getting into the top desk drawer to grab some tape and gauze. Patching her hand up she checked the clock. "Fuck." She hissed before dashing out the office. She grabbed a duffle bag that sat near the door and took off in a run down the road.

Sometime later Amanda dashed into the bathroom of a bar. She changed out of her sweats and into a pair of blue jeans and a black tank top under a black blouse. Glancing in the mirror she did her make up in a practiced hurry but paused. Pained and angered eyes stared back at her and she sighed. She didn't belong working mediocre jobs like this. She was trained to be in the ring but her anger kept her out. No one running a proper fight wanted a blood bath. Slipping on a pair of short heels she shouldered her bag and exited the bathroom.

Walking to the office to clock in her thoughts drifted to street fights. Nothing was holding her back from them; most had forgotten about her last fight. Well except her pride. Amanda had fought in many as a teenager but she had to swallow her pride and dignity each time she stepped in the ring. After several years and being caught in a few raids she couldn't look her father or the old boxers in the eye. It just hurt too much. That was back when money was slim and there was still a bit of boxers coming in.

Now the gym was filled with the haunting sounds of a broken man and nothing more. The money was more than slim now it had been that way for nearly a year. She wasn't even skirting by anymore. It had become dogging collectors. Amanda dropped her duffle in the office and logged in grabbing a cash drawer then headed to the floor. She would worry about it after work so for now she plastered a slight smile on her face and went to work.

Near the end her six hour shift Amanda was tempted to take a nap. The bar had been quite all day. Currently she had her head propped in her one hand half asleep as she scanned the channels on the television. She yawned when the sound of a hand slapping on the bar made her jump back a step ready to tear into the guy. Amanda stopped at the sight of a very lean tan man in jeans and a black t-shirt that showed well-muscled arms. He wore a silver chair necklace and a sly grin that showed his dimples. His blue eyes sparkled as he settled down on a bar stool.

"Holy fuck, Chris?" She said with her mouth wide open in awe.

"In the flesh, baby." He purred out grinning more. "Look pretty good, don't I."

"Hells yeah." The last time she had seen Chris Barker he weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, no muscle was a chain smoker with a heavy cough and the pasty complexion of someone that had never seen the sun. That had been nearly four years ago. "What the hell happened to you?" She asked grabbing a bottle of Miller Lite to place in front of him.

"I got some decent advice and found the right environment."

Amanda could feel her toes curling from just the way he spoke; purring his words in just the right way. "Well what brings you back to the Dead End?"

He took a drink from his beer and looked at her. "I came for you." His voice slipped from purrs to business.

Amanda snapped her head up and her grin turned into a scowl as she glared at him. They had been friends from grade school and together they had racked up an impressive criminal record mostly because she followed him. "What do you want?"

He held up his hands defensively. "No need to get on edge, baby."

"What do you want?" She asked in the same tone.

He grinned and rested his hands on the bar. "I need a headliner."

"I haven't been in a ring for years. You remember what happened last time." Her eyes fell to the bar. "No one wanted me even in street rings after that."

Chris looked at her with a grin. He would never forget the last time. Amanda had been floating across the mat that night, connecting punches to the other woman's face and ribs. Sweat making her shine with a smile plastered across her face. She had been enjoying playing around with the champ. Amanda would duck in land a few punches and dance away. It ended when the woman lost her temper and grabbed her hair pulling back that moment Amanda lost it. Her eyes glazed over and she went to town pummeling the woman's face. Three bodyguards had to pull her off and keep her restrained. The other had to be taken out of there on a stretcher. She lived but was left with a lisp and a limp from a heavy blow to the spine. "This goes deeper than street rings."

"The blood rings?" He nodded. "Those things still exist?"

"Where ever people have money they exist."

"And where did you get money to buy in?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers too." He said with a grin. "Five grand for stepping in the ring and twenty for winning."

"What's the undercard fights?" Amanda asked without hesitation.

Chris scowled at the question. "I don't deal with weak enders." He leaned forward catching her hand. "You need a better life and we both know how to get there." His eyes sparkled watching her.

"Sex or blood." Amanda said remembering their old saying.

"And you are way too hot headed to be someone's bitch."

She snorted but frowned slightly. Pulling her hand back she rubbed the gauze. "I nearly killed that girl last time, Chris. I don't think I could step back in." Amanda looked up with a sad smile. "I make an honest living here."

"Are you living or surviving?"

"What?"

Chris leaned back from the bar. "You try to exist in this honest world…" He spat the last two words as if they were foul. "…yet we both know you can't live here. This world is for righteous people. The ones that don't have a history like ours." He swung a finger between them pointing at both. "How many jobs turned you down before you got this?"

"A lot."

"And you got this one because…?"

"Murphy is an old friend of Papa's."

"Exactly." He almost shouted pointing at her. "We can only survive in this world and that's a stretch. People see our records and look down on us. They think they are better than us. They ignore you, hate you because of the things you did in the past." Chris leaned in and grabbed her chin. "They bring up things better left buried and expect us not to fight back." She scowled pulling her chin free. "You and I don't belong in this world Amanda." His voice dipped low and sad as if it hurt him to speak of it. "Why should we live here like stray dogs scrapping over an old bone when we can have the whole damn dinner and live like kings in the underworld?"

Amanda sighed and grabbed a towel to begin wiping the bar to make it look like she was busy for when her replacement came in. "I don't know, alright. Can I get some time to think about it?"

His eyes darted up and the dark haze of hate faded from them and he grinned again. "Oh course but I need a decision by the end of the month." Chris stood from the bar stool and stretched his arms before laying down the money for his drink and tip. He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her. Amanda looked at the stark white card and raised an eyebrow. The only thing on it was a phone number. "New phone." He answered to the questioning look. "Call me when you want in."

They said their goodbyes as Chris headed out the door. Shaking her head Amanda went back to actually doing her job. Clearing off the place where Chris sat she froze at the sight of a hundred dollar bill. The beer was cheap so the rest of the cash was her tip. Cashing out his bill she looked at the money in her hand.

She rolled her eyes. "Always flashing cash." Amanda said before pocketing the cash.

It wasn't an hour before Melissa came in the bar and Amanda couldn't help but study the girl as she walked towards the office. She was 25 and a bottle blond but what caught the attention of nearly every male on the planet was her figure. Constant plastic surgery had helped the thin framed blond to pop in the right places and fixed little flaws Amanda was sure was only in younger's mind. Melissa had a fantastic smile of bleached white teeth and manicured nails. She focused on herself and what she believed would attract a rich husband. In short she was a materialistic, fake, snobby, gold digger and she annoyed Amanda to no end.

She popped the cash register as Melissa came around the bar with a blinding smile. "Hi Mandy!"

Amanda resisted the urge to shiver at the slightly high pitch of the girl's voice. "Sup." Was her response as she pulled out her drawer.

"Oh you shouldn't be so harsh." The younger said dropping in her drawer. "Guys don't pay attention to harsh attitudes. You need to be open and friendly. Smile more…"She tucked her hair behind her ear looking Amanda over. "…maybe a low cut shirt would attract some guys. You're girls are nice, show them off."

Amanda nearly blanched at the comment. She didn't need advice from an idiot like her. True she hadn't had a boyfriend for years because people her afraid of her but she wouldn't go flashing her 'girls' to random men in hopes someone would ask her out. "Yeah whatever." She ground out keeping her slowly rising anger in check. Before getting a response she took off to the office to do her cash out.

The next half hour was dealt between doing her cash out and moving so the rest of the afternoon staff could clock in. Clocking out Amanda switched from her blouse to a red t-shirt and grabbed her bag. Passing through the front of the bar she slowed to see that there were already ten guys at the bar and others filling the tables. She felt her hand twitch at the sight; men flaunting over the busty blond that giggled and laughed.

Amanda growled low and left the bar. The street was noisy and distracting as she lied to herself. She wasn't jealous of the attention Melissa got. She didn't want to jump head first in to the ring Chris had offered her. She wasn't lonely. She wasn't broke. She…

Pausing Amanda leaned against the corner of a building which had a Furby truck parked out front. Anger resonated through her, her arm shook as the grip tightened on the bag's strap. Her head hurt with anger when something caught her attention. Green smoke was filling the area. Lifting her head she caught the sound of men yelling and could make out the sight of several in military fatigues.

"What the fuck is going on?" She questioned as a jet ripped low through the sky above. Her head snapped up for a moment when there was a strange shifting sound.

"It's Starscream!" A voice shouted and the truck half blocking her view was lifted with the same voice yelling. "Move! Move! Get out of the way!"

Amanda froze to her spot as black robot was lifting the truck. Another came towards her; a black and yellow one and proceeded to shoo her with his hand. She took that moment to scream. Losing the grip on her bag she bolted down the street anger had faded away into pure fear. Something she had never felt.

She had run at so many things head on it was strange to run away. Yet this fear echoed through every limb of her body and she knew she hand to run. An explosion happened behind her and the force knocked her off her feet. Skidding a few feet Amanda slowly pushed up on her shaking arms. Blood ran down them and made a small pool around her hands as she looked back. The tacky Furby truck was gone and there were more robots racing around.

Getting to her feet she sprinted down the road. Buildings were crumbling around her and she ducked and dogged her way through the falling debris. People were screaming as gun fire echoed over the street. A silver robot slammed down on the ground in front of her and light blue visor stared at her for a moment before she was snatched up. Amanda screamed again but was put back down and the robot was gone. She looked around to see the spot she had been standing was covered with fallen building.

It had saved her. It had saved her. With that realization setting in Amanda took a breath to calm her fear slightly. She had been running around without an escape plan, without a plan in general. Still shaking with fear she looked around for a clear path and a voice rang out over the battle. "Autobot fall back it's Megatron!"

Her eye sight darted towards the voice as a large robot landed in the street. Others were backing away while the small silver one sprinted forward, the one that had saved her. Amanda set her sights on her target and sprints through the debris, retreating robots, fire and flipped cars. She didn't know what she could do but she owed him. It was took late as the bigger robot took the smaller into the air and landed on a building.

"No I want two!" The large robot snarled out and pulled the silver one in two.

"Megatron!" An almost regal voice yelled out as a red and blue robot came sprinting down the street. The one called Megatron grinned viciously and threw the parts of the smaller bot aside to attack the red and blue one.

Amanda took off. She wasn't a mechanic but maybe she could do something. She knew she had to try. Rounding a corner she spotted the top half of the silver robot. Caution was gone as she ran through a growing puddle of a blue liquid leaking from the robot. She stopped in front of its face.

"Hey can you hear me?" Amanda shouted taking deep breaths. There was no movement. Placing her hands on its face she knocked hard on it. "Hey! Come on wake up!" Slowly a pale blue light flickered on and gazed at her through a broken visor. It started to dim and she smacked its face again a sting running up her hand. "Hey stay awake! Tell me who to get!"

The eye for lack of better words brightened slightly. "Prowl." A static filled voice called out.

"I have to get Prowl?" Amanda shouted slapping it again when its eye dimmed.

"Ya…ya res…resonate…like…like Prowl." It said in a bad gangster accent focusing back on her.

"I what?" She asked before movement caught her eyes. The robot lowered its hand and gripped her slightly by the waist. "Hey let the fuck go! I need to get you help!" She growled pulling at the hand holding her. It was pulling her towards the chest part where something was flickering.

Amanda paused her struggling as she caught by the sight of the light. It wasn't sparking but pulsing. Whatever it was it was a brilliant white and it was warm. The robot pulled her closer to it and she reached out. A blue white tendril reached back towards her hand. It wrapped around her wrist and continued up her arm. Amanda tried to wipe it off but it continued towards her chest. It began to grow brighter and then sunk into her chest over her heart. Pain racked her body and white filled her vision as Amanda let lose a scream of agony.

A/N: *blinks* Holy crap that was long! It's actually double the length of my normal chapters on all my stories. So if you like Please Review as it lets me know what you think of it and gives me moral support.