You pushed open the door to your front yard, squinting your eyes as the sun cast long shadows across the gravel path leading to your house. It was a good distance away from the rest of the city, because, eugh... people. You prefer your peace and quiet, but you were close enough to the shops if you needed to get anything for your garden of plants and vegetables.

On this particular day, however, you felt rather tired after staying up the majority of the night, watching a meteor shower and stargazing with some of your friends.

Maybe you could take a walk in the woods that were next to your home, to wake up a little? It was still fairly early in the morning. It wouldn't hurt.

As you walked, you got this weird feeling in your gut that something wasn’t quite right. Not in a sense of danger (at least you didn’t think you were in any danger) but more of a kind where something out of the ordinary was going to happen today.

Until-

You let out a cry of surprise as you found yourself falling down the incline and rolling until you landed on your side. When your head stopped spinning, and the stars faded from your vision, you found yourself staring at something that was very much not supposed to be there.

And, well, a good few (painful) months later, and you're stuck with housing a very moody and sulky Cybertronian in your, conveniently large, backyard shed.

Well, he claims he's trying to leave. But you don't see him doing anything. You've tried to talk to him a couple of times about Cybertron and traditions and such back there, but the most you get are non-answers and bitter remarks about something called "Functionism" and then "the government" and "how they wronged him" and the occasional unprompted rant about something else entirely.

A very metallic, and slightly annoyed sounding voice emanated from the blue Autobot (named Whirl, you'd learned earlier) as he stretched his legs as far as the shed would allow,

"Ughhh, my spinal strut's killing me." He complained melodramatically.