Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro/Takara, not me.
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It was an unusually quiet Saturday night in Detroit. There were no fires, robberies, or Decepticon attacks.
As he was driving down a quiet back street, Prowl heard drunk singing coming from a local bar.
"Karaoke night again." Prowl sighed. "A bunch of earthlings drinking fermented wheat and hops until they loose all sense of control. Then they feel the need to get on a stage and deface a piece of perfectly good music." The sleek motorbike pulled up to the kerb and waited. There was always one drunk who would try to drive home. He winced as the slurred noises of a Huey Lewis song drifted through the bar door.
"At least I'm doing something constructive." He thought to himself. "Bumblebee and Bulkhead are playing that awful game again. Ratchet's colour-coding his tools again and Prime's watching another war film."
Prowl heard a loud bang and an empty drink can rolled around the corner, followed by two humans. One had bright blonde hair and he wore a yellow T-shirt and jeans. The other had offensively red hair and was dressed in a leather jacket and jeans.
Prowl recognised the one with blonde hair from a magazine he had looked at once. He abruptly stopped when bumblebee told him what 'Playgirl' was.
"Damn editor." The blonde-haired one grumbled. "Did you hear him!? 'Sorry, Sunny But we've found someone better. Wave's in and you're out.' Frag 'em both." They approached Prowl and the blonde one kicked his side.
"Hey, I don't criticize your crude photos so don't criticize my fuel tank." He said, causing the two to jump.
"What the hell was that!?" Shouted the red haired one, diving for cover behind a dustbin. The blonde-haired one, Sunny, knelt next to Prowl and tapped him.
"Hey, was that you? Are you like the Knight Rider or something?" Sunny asked.
"My name is Prowl and I'm an Autobot." Prowl replied. "And I'd appreciate it if you left my paintwork alone."
"No way. No fragging way!!" Sunny shouted. He turned to his friend who was peeking around the side of the bin. "Hey, Sideswipe! It's Prowl!!"
Sideswipe immediately charged towards Prowl, his arms outstretched.
"Sunstreaker? Sideswipe? No!! Not them again!!" The last thing Prowl remembered was something hugging his front axel as he blacked out.
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Prowl blinked and saw a large tree towering above him. He was back in his room, safe and sound. No karaoke, no drunks and most of all, no Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. He stood up and walked further into the base.
Bumbleebee and Bulkhead were still playing their new game and Optimus was still watching his war films. But Ratchet was…
"GET OUTTA HERE, YA COUPLE OF MISFITS!!" Ratchet's voice boomed out of his room.
Bumblebee jumped, landing in Bulkhead's arms and Prime ran out of his room with his axe drawn, ready to slice whatever had caused the disturbance
Out of Ratchet's lab skidded a red Lamborghini Reventon and a yellow Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 followed by a number of assorted flying tools.
"Prowl! You're awake!!" Sideswipe shouted, transforming in the process.
His chest and legs were red with grey plating on his forearms and thighs. Black armour plating covered his head and he had a large rocket launcher on his right shoulder and a jet-pack mounted on his back.
"C'mere, buddy!!" Sunstreaker called. He transformed, revealing a mostly yellow body with black on his forearms and legs. His head was black with two large plates sticking out from either side, both with large yellow streaks in the middle.
"Oh slag." Prowl said, before being tackled by the two Lamborghini twins.
"I've got some good news! We're staying here to help you guys out!!" Sunstreaker smiled.
"NOOOOO!!!" Prowl shouted and blacked out again.
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The end.