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hat_writes_stuffTitle: Nice Car
Fandom: Transformers 2007 Movie/Knight Rider crossover
Characters: Bumblebee, Mikaela, Sam, Michael, Kitt
Word Count: I have failed to count. Short.
Rating: G
Warnings: Gratuitous F-body description
Summary: Really, when you get right down to it, isn't everybody a little more than meets the eye?
Author's Notes: For Emily, because it is ALL HER FAULT. Her fault. Not mine. I just get these mental images. She puts them there.
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related indicia are property of HasTak and Paramount Pictures; Knight Rider and all related indicia are property of Glen Larson and Universal Studios Television. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made. A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend.
Two sports cars sat in the parking lot of the fast-food restaurant, low-slung and sleek.
One was classic-- a 1982 Formula Firebird Trans-Am. Pontiac. Black. Absolutely lovingly cared-for, despite its age, polished to a gleaming black-mirror finish, not a trace of road dust on it anywhere. It had been customized at some point in its long history, though-- the tell-tale Firebird sigil was covered up, the windows tinted nearly black, the nose custom-made, sleeker and more elegantly angled than stock, with some kind of red light set between hood and nose. Eight lights, in series, sweeping gently and silently back and forth. It bore a blue-and-yellow license plate, same vintage as the car, that read KNIGHT.
The other was new, a factory-fresh 2009 Camaro, custom paint job in a bright, friendly yellow with two broad black stripes raked over the hood. The lines were slightly blockier, less knifeblade than the Firebird, but no less clean, sleek, aerodynamic. If the Firebird looked like it could outrun anything on the road, the Camaro looked, standing still, as though it already was. Though it didn't gleam quite the same way as the Firebird, the Camaro was no less looked after... though there were still a few smudges on the windshield, fingerprints that hadn't been cleaned off yet. A tiny disco ball ornament and an air freshener emblazoned with a cartoon bee dangled from the Camaro's rear view mirror.
The Firebird didn't seem to have a rear view mirror.
The restaurant door opened, a young man holding it first for the girl who was clearly his girl (even if she did look a little out of his league, but that happened sometimes-- maybe he made her laugh), then for the older man who was leaving behind them. The young couple made for the Camaro, the older man for the Firebird.
It was the older man who paused, leaning on his car's T-top.
"That the new Camaro?" he asked the young man.
"Uh, yeah. My first car-- my dad and I made a deal."
"Glad GM brought the F-body back." The older man had a brilliant grin, good-natured and wide open. It put the younger couple more at ease.
"So what's this one?" the girl asked him. "Eighty-two? Eighty-three? Looks custom."
"More than you know. Lotta years of work in him-- original owner."
"Wow," the boy said. "You both look very good. ... Sir."
The man just laughed, running a hand through short, curly hair-- most of it was still brown, even. "So yeah, nice car."
"Yeah-- you too."
Two very clear voices that didn't belong to the man, the boy, or the girl, chorused, "Thank you."
A long moment passed.
"Mikaela Banes," the girl said.
"Michael Knight," the man told them, smiling again.
"Sam Witwicky," said the boy, checking out the Firebird as subtly as he could-- where was the sigil?
"Bumblebee," the Camaro offered.
"Kitt," concluded the Firebird, completing introductions with that simple, crisp syllable.
"So, long story?" Michael asked.
"Oh, man," Sam chuckled, "You have no idea."
Author's Notes, 2013: This was my first foray into Transformers fanfiction, and I think it's held up well. What TF Movieverse fic I've written is all solidly based around the first movie; I didn't like the second and haven't seen the third, so I'm content to be solidly Jossed a lot of the time.
Fandom: Transformers 2007 Movie/Knight Rider crossover
Characters: Bumblebee, Mikaela, Sam, Michael, Kitt
Word Count: I have failed to count. Short.
Rating: G
Warnings: Gratuitous F-body description
Summary: Really, when you get right down to it, isn't everybody a little more than meets the eye?
Author's Notes: For Emily, because it is ALL HER FAULT. Her fault. Not mine. I just get these mental images. She puts them there.
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related indicia are property of HasTak and Paramount Pictures; Knight Rider and all related indicia are property of Glen Larson and Universal Studios Television. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made. A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend.
Two sports cars sat in the parking lot of the fast-food restaurant, low-slung and sleek.
One was classic-- a 1982 Formula Firebird Trans-Am. Pontiac. Black. Absolutely lovingly cared-for, despite its age, polished to a gleaming black-mirror finish, not a trace of road dust on it anywhere. It had been customized at some point in its long history, though-- the tell-tale Firebird sigil was covered up, the windows tinted nearly black, the nose custom-made, sleeker and more elegantly angled than stock, with some kind of red light set between hood and nose. Eight lights, in series, sweeping gently and silently back and forth. It bore a blue-and-yellow license plate, same vintage as the car, that read KNIGHT.
The other was new, a factory-fresh 2009 Camaro, custom paint job in a bright, friendly yellow with two broad black stripes raked over the hood. The lines were slightly blockier, less knifeblade than the Firebird, but no less clean, sleek, aerodynamic. If the Firebird looked like it could outrun anything on the road, the Camaro looked, standing still, as though it already was. Though it didn't gleam quite the same way as the Firebird, the Camaro was no less looked after... though there were still a few smudges on the windshield, fingerprints that hadn't been cleaned off yet. A tiny disco ball ornament and an air freshener emblazoned with a cartoon bee dangled from the Camaro's rear view mirror.
The Firebird didn't seem to have a rear view mirror.
The restaurant door opened, a young man holding it first for the girl who was clearly his girl (even if she did look a little out of his league, but that happened sometimes-- maybe he made her laugh), then for the older man who was leaving behind them. The young couple made for the Camaro, the older man for the Firebird.
It was the older man who paused, leaning on his car's T-top.
"That the new Camaro?" he asked the young man.
"Uh, yeah. My first car-- my dad and I made a deal."
"Glad GM brought the F-body back." The older man had a brilliant grin, good-natured and wide open. It put the younger couple more at ease.
"So what's this one?" the girl asked him. "Eighty-two? Eighty-three? Looks custom."
"More than you know. Lotta years of work in him-- original owner."
"Wow," the boy said. "You both look very good. ... Sir."
The man just laughed, running a hand through short, curly hair-- most of it was still brown, even. "So yeah, nice car."
"Yeah-- you too."
Two very clear voices that didn't belong to the man, the boy, or the girl, chorused, "Thank you."
A long moment passed.
"Mikaela Banes," the girl said.
"Michael Knight," the man told them, smiling again.
"Sam Witwicky," said the boy, checking out the Firebird as subtly as he could-- where was the sigil?
"Bumblebee," the Camaro offered.
"Kitt," concluded the Firebird, completing introductions with that simple, crisp syllable.
"So, long story?" Michael asked.
"Oh, man," Sam chuckled, "You have no idea."
Author's Notes, 2013: This was my first foray into Transformers fanfiction, and I think it's held up well. What TF Movieverse fic I've written is all solidly based around the first movie; I didn't like the second and haven't seen the third, so I'm content to be solidly Jossed a lot of the time.
