Your Expression Could Keep Me Laughing for a Year

Half an hour after Optimus Prime had just finished singing a few sad love songs, a group of uninvited guests suddenly arrived. Five black SUVs were parked on the side of the street, and more than a dozen agents in suits and white coats strode out, surrounded Russell's house, and took out instruments to start detecting radioactive materials.

"Knock knock knock————"

A series of rapid knocks woke Sam, who was sleeping on the sofa in the living room. He peeked through the peephole and, to make sure it wasn't Decepticon, opened the door.

"Sam Witwicky? Your great-great-grandfather was Bor Witwicky?"

Sam shielded his eyes from the flashlight and asked, displeased, "Who are you?"

"Government agency! Section 7!" The seemingly respectable Section 7 agent, Simmons, showed his identification and took it back without waiting for Sam to see it clearly.

"What is that? I've never heard of this organization." Sam said anxiously as he saw the man in the suit rummaging through the yard and getting closer to Bumblebee. He quickly said, "Hey, this isn't my house. You haven't gotten the homeowner's permission yet."

"Section 7 doesn't need anyone's consent; we have all the necessary authority," Simmons said smugly, staring into Sam's fearful eyes. He chuckled, "Sam, you called the police last night saying your car had run away. That seriously threatens national security."

"Sir, regardless of whether that car posed a threat to national security, you have now threatened my personal safety and property..." Russell walked down the stairs from the second floor, holding a gleaming Desert Eagle, and said calmly, "The Constitution gives me the right to kill you, so, can you let your men leave the garden?"

"I'm sorry, but I also have the right to kill you." Simmons pulled open his suit jacket, revealing a pistol under his arm.

Russell raised an eyebrow. "It seems so, but I'm not one of those cowards who will back down at the slightest intimidation. If you want to test whose gun is faster, I'm ready to go right now."

The atmosphere suddenly became tense. Seeing that things were getting out of hand, Simmons took a deep breath and took the initiative to lower his stance. "Mr. Russell, we are here to take Sam Witwicky away. This has nothing to do with you."

Russell nodded. "No problem, but don't touch my things."

Sam: "..."

Simmons didn't care what Sam thought. He took out a device and approached Sam. After a few tests, Sam's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot. "Kid, look what you've done. These numbers really surprise me."

"What number? What are you talking about?"

Simmons waved his hand, and Sam looked panicked. He didn't bother to listen to the other's clumsy explanation, so he took out handcuffs, cuffed his wrists, and dragged him out of the house.

Mikaela came down the stairs, crouching behind Russell. The two stood in the doorway watching Sam being led away. Just then, a man in a white coat approached the Chevrolet; the instruments showed he had encountered abnormal readings.

"Sir! Here! This car's emissions are way off the mark!"

Simmons gasped. "That's the car, damn it, stay away from it."

Chirp chirp!

Seeing that he and Sam were about to be taken away, Bumblebee instantly transformed into a giant robot over five meters tall, its arms becoming Energy Gun, aimed at Simmons: "Zzz... This cat is so cute... You bunch of bugs, release the hostages!"

Since it was an intercepted broadcast, it was impossible to coincidentally encounter the right sentence every time, so Bumblebee's words sounded more like a threat to the agents. They drew their sidearms and looked for cover, but apart from the fountain, what obstacles in the garden could they hide behind?

"Bumblebee, don't shoot!" Sam was pinned to the ground, shouting with his head tilted back. He didn't want Bumblebee to stand against humanity; if everyone calmed down and communicated, everything could be resolved perfectly.

Optimus Prime forbids anyone from harming humans, and Bumblebee respects his decision. However, Optimus Prime also stated that he must protect Russell and the other two. This conflicting order caused Bumblebee to look at Russell with a headache. Russell was the most intelligent person present, and Bumblebee believed he could find a solution that would satisfy both sides.

Russell shook his head slightly. "Bumblebee, turn back into a car. You didn't come here to start a war, and Optimus Prime doesn't want this either."

Bumblebee looked around, then reluctantly put away its Energy Gun. Its entire body shifted, and it transformed back into Chevrolet Camaro.

After a ten-second silence, Simmons, looking disheveled, got up from the ground, straightened his suit, and came to Russell, saying in a deep voice, "Mr. Russell, it seems you also need to come with us."

"No problem! But since I helped you out of this predicament, could you take off Sam's handcuffs?" Russell's words earned him a grateful look from Sam, but the second half of his sentence immediately made Sam doubt himself. "After all, Sam is so weak, it doesn't matter whether he has handcuffs or not."

"Thank you for your cooperation!" Simmons nodded to Russell and had someone unlock Sam's handcuffs. Sam looked at the Chevrolet Camaro with a mixture of fear and apprehension, unsure of what to say.

"Don't worry, Bumblebee will come with us to wherever you want to go." Russell gave Simmons a way out, and added at the end, "If you're not comfortable with that, you can add an extra layer of insurance for Bumblebee, but remember, he's a warrior, so please give him the respect a warrior deserves."

"I'm afraid..."

Russell interrupted Simmons, saying calmly, "The Bumblebee race has a highly advanced civilization and many comrades on Earth. To avoid war, they have already made concessions, haven't they?"

"Alright, this is the only exception." Simmons' eyes darted around. He could make concessions now that he was outnumbered and outgunned, but on his turf, he was in charge.

Russell grinned and, before the other agents could react, pulled Simmons to the passenger side of the Chevrolet, opened the door, and pushed him inside.

"Sir Agent, let's go!"

Simmons: "..."

Five SUVs escorted the Chevrolet in the middle as they headed towards the airport outside the city.

Unbeknownst to Russell, no sooner had the convoy left than another SUV pulled up in front of his house. Four agents entered the house to investigate and found signs of a struggle on the second floor.

"Inspect and retrieve all suspicious objects."

"There are alien corpses in the trash can."

"Take the trash can with you!"

"The floor is highly radioactive..."

"Pry it away."

"And on the ceiling too..."

"Tear the wallpaper off too!"

"My God, there's radioactive material almost everywhere here, even the safes..."

"Pack!"

Confusion: Squeak, squeak, I'm back again.

The roar of propellers filled the night sky as four armed helicopters followed from behind, along with ten military armored vehicles loaded with heavily armed soldiers.

With his troops strong and well-equipped, Simmons regained his confidence. He smiled and looked at Sam in the driver's seat, ready to pry some information out of him. "Sam, how much do you know about aliens?"

"I know nothing!"

With a Bumblebee sitting on his backside, Sam, relying on the car's imposing presence, completely ignored Simmons.

"Really? Then how do you explain this!" Simmons pulled out his phone from his pocket—the one Sam had left at the iron ore mine. "We tracked you down here because of your 911 call. Wow, this video is hilarious; your expression will be my source of a laugh for a year."

Sam: "..."

Russell, sitting in the back, suddenly opened his eyes as he closed them. "Mr. Agent, you should ask me instead of Sam. I should know more than him."

Simmons looked at Russell with a headache. This guy was the most difficult to deal with. Without an interrogation room and eight muscular bodyguards, he didn't have the confidence to ask questions.

Mikaela, sitting next to Russell, defended him. "Just kidding, he doesn't know anything, he's completely ignorant."

Simmons snorted coldly, showing no more politeness to Mikaela. He pulled out his ID and arrogantly declared, "Girl in a sports bra, do you know what this is?"

Russell: "A passport to do whatever you want, a license to lock us up forever."

Simmons: "..."

I've already told you, so how can I still show off?

Forget about showing off, Simmons felt like a Silly Bird, like he'd punched a cotton ball. He sullenly put away his license and glared at Mikaela fiercely. "You'd better shut up before I ask you any questions, especially since your dad's parole is coming up soon."

Sam exclaimed in surprise, "Dad? Parole?"

"No, no..." Mikaela hurriedly looked at Russell.

"Oh, it seems you know nothing about her!" Simmons found a breakthrough and laughed. "She's a car thief, and she has a teenager..."

"Cough cough!"

Russell cleared his throat twice, interrupting Simmons's smugness, and said bluntly, "Mr. Agent, it's not gentlemanly to embarrass a lady. Besides, scaring two 18-year-olds won't make you any more authoritative."

Simmons scratched his head in frustration. He disliked talking to Russell, always being led by the nose. Suddenly, he realized something. "Russell, why are you so... calm when you see aliens and Special Department?"

"Because I have seen creatures more terrifying than aliens, Gods and demons, on Earth."

"What?"

"Enough of the digressions, Mr. Agent. I can tell you everything I know about aliens, but I have one condition." Russell glanced at the distraught Mikaela and ruffled her hair. "Delete her juvenile delinquency record, permanently remove it from her file. Society is already so tough, and young people are just getting started. How can we let a terrible past hold them back?"

"Thanks..."

Mikaela bit her lip, tears streaming down her face, and threw herself into Russell, deeply moved. The four corners of the emplacement had been welded shut, and no one could move it.

Holy crap, I'm talking to you about the safety of the planet, and you're using the opportunity to flirt with girls!

Simmons, still a bachelor, was extremely envious. If he had three times the talent of Russell, he wouldn't need to feel lonely and empty in the dead of night.

Sam didn't say anything, nor did he show any envy; he simply offered a meme of utter despair.

He realized that continuing to cling to Mikaela was pointless; once he had saved the world, he would use his impressive resume to woo other girls.