I am Sam witwicky(SI)

Sam's fingers moved with consistent clicks upon the keyboard, his eyes stuck upon the holographic screen before him as he maneuvered his way through complex lines of code. The five years had molded him from a young child into a man who is more focused, driven, and strategic. That was reflected in his body, too-leaner, athletic, his sharp features and an intense gaze, the strength he had grown. But it was his surroundings that really gave a picture of how far he had come.

The underground lab Sam had made was an achievement in itself, well hidden from the world. This fortress, strong and sure, held all new technology, fabricated and installed with care by Sam and his AI, Alfred. Large, clean, and with shining metallic walls, it was lined with monitors, tablets, and gadgets within reach. And at the very center, casting a soft, blue glow over the lab, stood the huge Arc Reactor-a contraption Sam had laboriously designed to power everything in the lab and his endless source of energy. It hummed softly in the background, filling the space with a subtle, assuring hum that kept his work going smoothly.

Off to one side of the lab was the Danger Room, a separate space inspired by the fabled training facility from X-Men. Sam had programmed in simulations of everything from hand-to-hand combat through complex tactical scenarios. Using all manner of advanced holographic technology and immersive environments, he had perfected his hand-to-hand capabilities, trained with a variety of armaments, and pitted his tactical acumen against unyielding foes. It was in this Danger Room that he was afforded the kind of training ground and haven that pushed him past his limits, affording him the kind of skills he'd need for dangers he knew lay ahead.

Other Iron Man suits, which Sam had built over the years, were scattered strategically around the lab. They were not just for show, but project after project each suit fully packed with different capabilities and designs born from his knowledge of engineering and desire for readiness. Some were optimized for speed, others for strength, and one sleek design was tailored in such a way as to allow for stealth missions. Each prototype was from the entirety of development, which had been in constant continuation until this date, on what was supposed to be the ultimate nanotech suit that he was designing. There was no doubt that this newest suit would be superior to all predecessors.

"Alfred," Sam called out, his voice breaking the serene rhythm of the lab, "status report on the nanotech?"

The speakers on the walls sprang to life, Alfred's voice a welcome, carried British rejoinder that seemed to have honed efficiency down to a high art: "Project nanotech is now sixty-five percent complete, Master Sam. With all things going smoothly, we're looking at a two-week completion window. Barring, of course, any unexpected explosions."

Sam smirked, eyeing the screen with the intricate blueprint of his current project glowing on it. "I've triple-checked the calculations, Alfred. We're not blowing anything up anytime soon."

"I am glad to hear that," Alfred replied, the humor now dripping from his voice. "Though I still keep my double-check of your triple-check, for my own peace of mind."

Smiling as he sat back in his chair, Sam scanned the lab, proud of all he had created therein. And yet, he still had so much more to achieve.

 After appreciating every thing Sam was again focused on his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard as lines of code and encrypted data scrolled across the screen. He was frowning, deep in thought. The soft hum of electronics filled his room, a sleek varnished desk with various gadgets and tools of his own devising. Behind him, a holographic interface in blue and gray cast flickering patterns on the wall as it relayed diagrams of the data he had downloaded and the current functions of Alfred.

A few months left, Sam thought as he stared at the data, letting out a sigh. The Autobots would be here soon. The plot that he had memorized from the first "Transformers" movie was about to unfold, and no matter how much he tried to prepare, the huge scope of what was to come weighed heavy on his mind.

His voice cut through the silence. "Alfred, pull up everything we have so far out of the military's and Sector Seven's files."

"Yes, sir," Alfred returned with smooth efficiency, his British accent laced with just a hint of dry humor. "Though I could recommend a cup of tea to steady your nerves while I pull the data up for you. Stress is not becoming."

Sam let loose a soft chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind, Alfred."

In a matter of seconds, Alfred had combed through the massive records of purloined military files and clandestinely tapped broadcasts from Sector Seven. Sam spent years computer-hacking even the most security-tight government records, particularly those that involved the infamous NBE-1, otherwise known as Megatron, the AllSpark, and anything dealing with the cybertronians that have been on earth. Before him flashed up the classified details on both.

"The information you requested is available, sir. Most of it centers on our old frozen friend, NBE-1, and the AllSpark." The sarcasm was not quite fully repressed in Alfred's voice.

"Thanks, Alfred." Sam leaned further into the screen, scanning through. Megatron had been found in the Arctic, having been frozen for centuries in a sort of dormant state. But the real enigma was this AllSpark. Sam's fingers tapped idly on the desk as his brain worked around the artifact. In the movie, the AllSpark was some sort of powerful artifact capable of creating Cybertronian life. But something simply did not add up. There had to be more to it.

In the second movie, Sam recalled that a small shard of the AllSpark had buried itself in his mind, imbuing him with the knowledge of Cybertronian lore. It wasn't just a life-giving device but an ancient relic holding the key to unimaginable power. What was the true nature of the AllSpark? Was it some sort of creative tool or something far more dangerous?

"Any ideas, Alfred?" Sam asked, leaning back in his chair.

"None that you haven't already thought of, sir," replied Alfred reflectively. "If I can say so, sir, speculation about ancient alien technology on an empty stomach can't be good for anyone's brain.

Sam huffed and nodded. "You're probably right. I'll just have to wait and see when I actually get my hands on it." He closed the data screen and rubbed his temples.

"That's the spirit," Alfred said with a quip. "No point in stressing yourself over intergalactic mysteries before your eggs are cooked."

Sam chuckled once more, enjoying how Alfred tried to lighten the mood.

"Thanks, Alfred," Sam said sincerely. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well, I assume you'd still be brilliant and resourceful, but far less charming without my presence," Alfred teased. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to monitoring your ongoing Ark Reactor project. It's about 60% complete, by the way."

Sam smiled. "Noted. I'll check in later. For now, I'm going to grab some breakfast."

He got up and stretched before he went out of his underground lab into the kitchen. The sizzling scent of eggs and just percolated coffee hit him. His mom, Judy, was at the stove, humming softly to herself while cooking. Through the window, Sam was able to see his dad, Ron, was in the garden outside, planting flowers.

"Morning, Mom," he said, greeting her while seating himself at the kitchen table.

"Morning, sweetie," Judy said with a warm smile. "You've been cooped up in that lab of yours again, haven't you? You know, you're going to need to make some real friends eventually."

Sam groaned playfully. "Mom, I have friends."

"Alfred doesn't count," Judy said, raising her eyes as she set a plate of eggs in front of him. "He's lovely and all, but you can't just have an AI for social interaction."

As if on cue, Alfred's voice came over the kitchen speaker. "I must agree with Mrs. Witwicky, sir. As charming as I am, even I can't replace the benefits of human connection."

Sam shook his head, while grinning. "Really, Alfred?"

"Always looking out for your best interests, sir," Alfred returned dryly.

Judy smiled at the exchange. "See? Even Alfred agrees. You're a smart boy, Sam, but you got to get out there more. High school's almost over and you're going to need connections in the real world."

Sam sighed and took a mouthful of his breakfast. "I know, I know. But I'm really fine. Between school, my projects, and the time I get to spend with you guys, well, I'm happy."

Judy leaned down and ruffled his hair. "We only want the best for you, honey."

"I know," he smiled up at her, "and I appreciate it."

When breakfast was finished, Sam did not forget his knapsack and bike. "I am heading to school."

"Be careful, sweetie!" Judy called out as he opened the door.

"I will!" Sam shouted back, pedaling down the driveway.