Hey, so this is my first fic, and i hope you like it :) It will get more exciting later. Here goes nothin ...
Fantasy sighed, onlining her optics to a light far too bright and early for to appreciate.
'What a dream' she thought, desperately reaching into the depths of her processor. She was searching for those beautiful feelings, emotions not yet experienced, but somehow programmed deep in her systems and escaping into her dreams.
'Almost! Relax, they'll come!' she wrestled with her memory banks as it faded…again. Registering another fail, she dazedly got up, headed for the wash racks.
Searching radio waves with her silver antennas, the light green and blue femme selected an upbeat tune, adding a bounce to her sluggish early morning steps. Overall, she made a rather cute spectacle as she strode through the halls, hands behind her back. She didn't mind her appearance, but sometimes wished she had the ever coveted tall slim frame with long slender legs. Her form was more petite with a slender waist and curvy hips. She had long ago decided to just be happy with what she had, and because of that she was a hard femme to bring down.
"Good morning, Firestar!" she chirped as the wash racks door slid open, receiving an obviously forced half smile in return.
'Well, not everyone can be a morning bot.' she reasoned.
Steam and cleansing scents greeted her olfactory sensors as she stepped into the room. Smiling and nodding to passing femmes, she made her way over to her favorite stall.
'Ahh, the wash racks never fail.' She sighed, relishing the slippery warmth of the cleansing fluid as it slid over her protoform.
Pretty soon there was a tapping from outside the stall, signaling the impatience of the other femmes.
"Cool your carburetors, I'll be right out." She teased. Deciding she was ready to face another day, Fantasy exited the wash racks and started towards the rec room.
Besides the wash racks, the rec room was definitely Fantasy's favorite place on the base. Almost never empty, this comfortable lounge was the socializing spot of all autobots, mechs and femmes alike. Before and after shifts, bots gathered here to grab an energon drink, chat, and laugh.
Upon spotting her good friend Chromia, Fantasy switched off her music, as not to disturb her socializing, and fairly skipped over to her booth.
'My, she's bubbly this morning…' Chromia thought. 'But then again, when isn't she bubbly?'
Chuckling to herself and taking a sip of energon, the dark blue femme patted the seat next to her on the booth against the wall.
"Hey there, little miss sunshine! What's got you fantasizing today, Fantasy?" Chromia said over the other bots' chatter. Fantasy grinned and let out a giggle.
"Oh, just preparing to deal with a glitch like you" She smirked.
Chromia burst into raucous laughter, unaware that it caught the attention of a strong red mech across the room by the name of Ironhide. He gazed at her profile with bright blue optics, enjoying the curves of her form and the sound of her laughter. That femme, so much like himself, was strong-willed, independent, and loud. Yet, her spark was so warm, anyone who dared get past her hot temper found a generally happy autobot underneath. So pleasant in nature, yet absolutely ferocious when provoked. Somehow, he knew that she was his femme, whether she knew it or not.
"…got Red Alert to take my shift tomorrow night. How about you, Ironhide? Ironhide! Uhoh, looks like Ironhide's got a processer glitch, if you know what I mean." Sunstreaker said, earning snickers around the table.
"Starscream!" Sideswipe exclaimed softly.
"WHERE!" Ironhide roared, rearing up and unspacing his newest cannon. Everybot in the room snickered at the outburst.
"You aft shafts are gonna get it!" Ironhide sneered at the mechs at his table, regaining his senses. Slinking back into his chair, he emit a low growl.
"Love ya too, buddy." Sunstreaker smirked.
Chromia watched as Ironhide sent the rascals at his table a deadly glare. Secretly, she admired the tough, handsome, trigger-happy mech. He was just so…so…exciting!
Fantasy's ongoing giggles brought her back to reality.
"That…was so…fraggin'…funny!" she managed between fits of giggles.
'Thank Primus Ironhide hasn't noticed' Chromia thought.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and so is… YOUR ENERGON!" she yelled, springing up as she noted the burnt orange liquid spreading towards her across the table.
"Oh…didn't notice!" she burst out laughing, again.
"Ah! Your expression!…just…like his!" she managed through her giggly haze.
Still laughing, Fantasy nearly made it to the serving table for a rag. An "Oof!" interrupted her giggles as she collided with something solid and white.
"Oh! Sorry! I was just, ah…" she found herself looking up into a handsome face.
"Hey, Fantasy! What's happenin? Besides runnin' me over, of course." Jazz grinned.
"Ahah, just scheming my next assault. That was all planned, you know." She smirked, with laughter in her optics.
'Primus, she's beautiful. Sassy, too!" Jazz thought
Being an autobot, he had been acquainted with this particular femme, but not quite familiar.
"Oh, were ya now?" he replied, arching an optic ridge. She giggled, and he immediately liked the sound.
"Of course! I saw you come in, predicted your position upon my arrival, and… oh dear, guess I'm getting a bit carried away… I'm joking, I swear!" she smiled, sheepishly.
The reply earned her a hearty laugh from Jazz while she admired his strong features and warm personality.
"Now I see where ya get your name!" he grinned, optics shining through his blue visor.
"But hey, it's cool. Clever, too. Say, are you comin' to the party tomorrow? It's gonna be a real blowout!" he asked excitedly, and Fantasy's optics lit up.
"You bet I am! Can hardly wait! How about yourself?"
"Yeah, man! It's gonna be a pit of a time!" he replied enthusiastically.
"Fantasy! Get your aft over here!" Chromia yelled from her still messy table, interrupting their friendly banter.
"Looks like you're needed elsewhere…" Jazz admitted, a bit crestfallen.
"Oh, slag! The energon!" Fantasy exclaimed.
"Hm?"
"Oh, uh, I had a laugh attack back there and gave Chromia a mess to remember…" she smirked. "With energon!" she added quickly.
"Ya know, I think I'm disappointed I missed that." Jazz smiled
Before the elated femme could manage a reply, he added
"Ah, I'll let ya go now, before Chrome-head over there blows a fuse. See ya tomorrow?" he smiled.
"Yes!" was all she could squeak as he waved and walked away. Snapping out of her daze, she turned up her radio rather loud.
'Chromia isn't exactly in a socializing mood now…' she thought, heading towards the table and fuming femme.
'Oh, Primus…as the humans would say, here comes world war three…'
"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" the sharp deafening sound of the decepticon alarm rang throughout the base.
"Slag!" Fantasy moaned aloud, rolling out of her recharge berth. It was only fitting for that Megajerk to launch an attack during night hours.
Snapping on her battle armor, she ran out of her room to locate the femme commander, Beta.
"Fantasy!" someone yelled from behind. Turning her helm to glance over her shoulder, she spotted her friend Elita running to join her. Fantasy admired her slim, rosy pink and white form as she caught up.
"Beta's in the West Wing!" Elita stated as they began sprinting for their destination. Upon arriving, they quickly sought out their friends Moonracer and Chromia lining up in formation.
"Isn't this just like a D-con, to disturb our recharge." The blue femme complained.
"Eh, the night matches their sparks." Fantasy replied.
"Well, it doesnt match ours!" Chromia quipped, charging her rifle.
"I cant wait to turn those decepti-punks to scrap and…"
"Chill, Chromia, here comes Beta." Elita snapped.
Some fifty femmes watched silently as the large blue femme strode to the front of the room. She briefly surveyed the formation before breaking the silence.
"Well, what the slag are you waiting for? Transform and roll out!" she bellowed before heading outside, the fifty sleek alt modes right behind her.
Outside, the mechs were already awaiting orders from Ultra Magnus. He smiled as his bonded rolled up and transformed beside him.
"Ready, Love?" he asked quietly. Taking his hand somewhat discreetly, she smirked, sending love and humor through their bond.
"Lets hope your mechs can keep up with my femmes!"
"If they're anything like you, sweetspark, there's no hope at all." He laughed, sending even more love through their bond. She giggled
.
"I love you" she whispered, before squeezing his servo and turning to admire the femmes under her command.
Beta proudly watched the femmes standing before her. Every one was unique in their own way, yet they all united under one goal. The fall of the decepticons.
Fantasy couldn't help but smile. She loved the anticipation and excitement before a battle, but there was an added bonus today. Her position in formation had her in the line nearest the mechs. And standing right nest to her was none other than the mech she bumped into last joor.
"Say, don't I know you?" he smiled.
"I don't know, do you?" she challenged, smirking.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Well, I guess…"
"Good! Energon in the rec room, tomorrow, 0700 hours." He smirked this time.
As the giddiness welled up inside her and she searched her clouded processer for a response, their Prime came forward and beckoned for silence.
Albeit young for a leader, the few times the autobots had engaged in battle Optimus Prime had proved to be a talented tactician, powerful fighter, and wise counselor. The war, though still young in existence, was rapidly growing, calling for more extensive training and scrutinizing organization.
Optimus groaned inwardly, taking his place before the mass of soldiers.
However, it wasn't the decepticons causing this particular annoyance…it was the femmes. He felt their intense stares as he stood over them. He barely got a days peace without a throng of them following him around, begging for a date. He was grateful for his best friend Ironhide, who usually took the liberty of scaring them off with his gruff manor. Speaking of the tough mech… Optimus pushed aside his stray thoughts and focused on his announcement.
"Good morning autobots and thank you for responding so quickly to the alarm." He began, receiving mumbles and a few squeals from the audience.
"I know how much you all want to get back to recharge, so I'll make this announcement brief. At 0300 hours this morning, one of our fellow autobots was attacked by a decepticon seeker. We know not the nature of the assault, and for the time being we are on high alert. Ironhide…"
Fantasy's audio receptors picked up on a sharp vent intake beside her from Chromia.
"…is reportedly in medbay, our CMO stabilizing his condition. We have heightened security, and ask that you all be on top guard. That concludes my announcement, autobots you may fallout."
Immediately, conversation sprang to life among the ranks.
"Oh Primus, what now…"
"Those fragging pit-slaggers…"
"Poor Ironhide!"
"Ah, no bot cares about him…" the mech that said this didn't know what hit him. In a flash, he was pinned, faceplates down, on the ground by a dark blue blur. Charged and ready, a rifle was steadily pointed to his helm.
"You. Take. That. Back. NOW!" a seething Chromia ground out in his audio receptor.
The others watched in shock, silenced by her aggressive response.
"O-ok! Ironhi-…"
"SHUT-UP! You don't even deserve to speak his name, scum! You…" she was interrupted by a sharp whisper.
"Chromia! Look!" she looked slowly upward, and found her spark being bored into by intense blue optics.
"Designation, soldier?" Optimus asked, calmly.
"Chromia, sir." She replied, standing up straight.
"May I inquire as to what is going on here?"
Before Chromia could begin, a confident voice sounded from behind Optimus.
"Certainly, sir." Optimus turned and rapidly shuttered and un-shuttered his optics. He stared at the rosy pink femme before him.
"Designation Elita One, sir, and there is reasonable motif behind this assault. You see, sir, this mech verbally degraded one of your most esteemed soldiers." she explained.
Still regaining his composure, Optimus managed
"And that soldier is?"
"Ironhide." She replied, matter-of-factly.
Optimus went quiet for a moment before opening up a comm link.
: Please accompany me in my office, one breem: Optimus.
: Yes, sir: Prowl.
Motioning for the offender to follow, Optimus started off toward his office. Stopping, he turned suddenly.
"Thank you, Chromia, for defending the honor of my weapon specialist. Perhaps next time you can do so without so much…commotion."
"Yes, sir." She smiled sheepishly.
"And thank you, Elita One, for assisting with the explanation. I expect to see you around." She nodded and he turned again to leave.
When he was a safe distance away, Eita vented out deeply and noticeably relaxed.
"That was juicy." Chromia smirked.
"You're one to talk!" Elita shot back, glaring.
Fantasy and Jazz exchanged glances for bursting into laughter and heading back inside.
Optimus dropped into his office chair with a thud, too tired to consider the conduct expected of him as Prime.
"Designation, soldier." Primus, he seemed to be saying that a lot these joors…
"Gears, sir." he replied, helm bowed
.
"Well, Gears, is seems that Chromia punished you enough, so I'll let you go with a warning. Dismissed."
Saluting weakly,Gears turned and trudged back to his quarters, leaving Optimus to his thoughts.
"Sir?" Prowl broke his Prime's reverie.
"Hm? Oh, Prowl. Tell me what is known about an Elita One." He required of his second-in-command.
"Elita One… is she the short gray femme…?"
"No. she's more of a…rosy pink color."
"Ah. Does she have a wide protoform and yellow optics?"
"No! She's tall… and slender…blue optics."
"Oh! That Elita One. She arrived with a small group of femmes from Iacon after Shockwave destroyed their headquarters. Her creator is unknown, but she speaks most highly of an Alpha Trion. As I hear it, she is a very intelligent femme." Prowl informed him.
Optimus sat in silence.
"Sir?"
"Oh, yes, thank you Prowl. That is all."
"Goodnight, Optimus."
"Hmm…"
Prowl vented inwardly as he left the room.
'This could get interesting. No, I take that back. This willl get interesting…'
The next day…
"Chromia! What in Pit…?"
"Hush, Moonracer! Come on!"
"Wha…?"
"You have happily volunteered to accompany me to medbay, so I don't look like a total aft shaft while I check on somebot."
"Yeah, you may not look like an aft shaft, but what about me?"
"Ah, whatever. Just hurry up before Beta misses us."
Moonracer planted her pedes to the floor.
"No. I'm not budging until you tell me just who this somebot is."
"Umm…"
"Spit it out, femme!"
"IRONHIDE!" Chromia blurted.
*cyber-cricket chirps*
"BAHAHAHA-"
*CLANK*
"ARGH! Chromia! You didn't have to kick my aft!" Moonracer exclaimed, rubbing the now sore spot.
"Yes, I did. Now lets go."
"But-!"
"You promised! Move!"
"Grrr…I don't know why I hang out with you-" Moonracer glared.
"You will." Chromia smirked.
***
Med bay…
"Ratchet!"
The large white mech looked down at his restless patient.
"Simmer down Ironhide, I'm not done rewiring your servo."
"Hurry it up, will ya?"
"Sure thing, if you want your servo welded to your aft…"
"Hmph. I need ta go kick some deciptipunk…hey, ya hear that?"
"Of course I heard that, now hush!"
Outside the room…
"Chromia, I've never been in medbay before! We just got here a few solar cycles ago!"
"Well, there's a first time for everything."
"I changed my mind. Hey, want to go get some high grade?"
Chromia unspaced her rifle, and aimed at Moonracer.
"Slaggit, 'Racer! You're coming with me if I have to-!"
"Shh! They'll hear you-!" Moonracer squeaked…
" We already have." A voice cut in beside them.
'Frag.' Both femmes thought.
They turned to see that the door had slid open, and there stood Ratchet, white arms folded across his chassis. Behind him sat Ironhide, staring wide-opticed at Chromia, rifle still pointed at Moonracer.
"Umm…hi!" Moonracer squeaked…again.
"Hello, Hatchet! We've, uh, come for you to check Moonracer out!" Chromia began "…I mean, see what's wrong with her!" she added quickly.
"Say, aren't you Ironhide?" she asked smoothly, while dragging Moonracer through the door way and into the room.
"The name is Ratchet" he huffed "Alright, Moonracer, what's the problem?"
"She needs to flush her tanks." Chromia stated, before she and Ironhide burst out laughing.
"What? No! Chromia! I'm going to-!"
"It's alright Moonracer, I expect nothing less from these two." Ratchet glared at them and took her servo in effort to calm her. She looked up at him and he dropped it abruptly.
"Oh, sorry, uh, I've, um…" she thought quickly "…been having trouble initiating recharge!" she said, seeming relieved.
"Oh, that's an easy fix. I"ll just initiate one for you, and your processer will remember the sequence. If you will just follow me, please." He said, leading her into the next room.
Moonracer panicked.
"But-!" She was getting so tired of being pushed around…
"Now Moonracer, be a good patient and do what the CMO ordered." Chromia purred, pushing her into the room and shutting the door. Grinning, she congratulated herself and turned to face Ironhide.
"So," Ironhide began in his south cybertronian drawl, sending a quick shiver through her frame. "You're Chromia."
"Why, yes I am. Trigger happiest femme in all Cybertron." She smirked, hands on her hips.
'She. Is. Hot.' Ironhide thought, feeling his cooling fans kick in.
"No kiddin'. And Ah'm the trigger happy mech. A'course, it comes with the territory."
"Territory?"
"Weapon Specialist." He grinned when her optics lit up.
"Say, would ya like ta go to the shootin' range sometime? After Ah get outta this fraggin' med bay, a'course."
"Sure! That is, if you're looking for some competition." She she challenged, optics gleaming.
'Primus, she's even better up close!' he thought.
"Ya got yourself a deal."
Their conversation was stopped short when Ratchet reentered the room, and adressed Chromia.
"Alright, she's in full recharge, it will probably last about half a solar cycle. Now, I'm not a nosy mech, but before she went out she mumbled something about a lovesick rifle…"
"Oh, umm, yeah…she does have strange dreams sometimes…" she reasoned.
"So I gather. Now, you better go so I can finish putting back together Mr. tough mech here…"
"Alright, alright! Don't blow a gasket, I'm going!" when she reached the door she turned around.
"See ya later, 'Hide!" she winked and sauntered out of the room, swaying her hips more than necessary.
Ratchet sighed, exasperated.
"Now ain't that a femme!" Ironhide grinned staring at the now closed door.
If Ratchet could have rolled his optics, he would.
"Whatever you say." He grumbled, before his thoughts drifted to the serene mint green femme in the other room.
hooray! you read it! now, maybe it's just me, but i hear a review button calling. do you? [yes, yes you do. ;)]