Author: Koi Lungfish
Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations from The Transformers ((c) 1986 Hasbro, Ltd). Used without permission. Text (c) 2007, Koi Lung Fish (Mark of Lung. All Rights Reserved.)
Continuity: G1 cartoon, pre-Earth.
Prowl rested his hands on his hips and looked down at Trailbreaker. "Explain yourself."
"What, the paint or the bath?" Trailbreaker asked, swiveling his wheels as the cleaning jets played over his newly green bodywork.
"Explain why you're six hours late back to base," Prowl said. "Then you can explain the paint. I am assuming that you didn't simply decide to stop on the way back to base for a paint freshener."
"Uh, no," Trailbreaker said, rocking backwards and forwards on his shocks. "See, it starts like this -"
"The short version, Trailbreaker," Prowl ordered. "Save the jokes for the unofficial version."
"This is the official version?"
"This is a preliminary debriefing, and yes, it will go on your file." Prowl glared sternly at the strategist.
Trailbreaker sank down on his suspension until his underside was almost in the cleaning fluid. The green paint was starting to break up, turning the solvent pale green. "It was the weather."
"We're on the other side of the planet from Tyrest," Prowl reminded him gently. "We don't get dye storms in Praxus."
"It wasn't a dye storm!" Trailbreaker protested, bouncing and splashing Prowl's shins. He took a step back. "I was coming back along the old Trans-Praxus Magnetic Highway, and the rain sirens starting going off, so I ducked into the first stop-station I found."
So far, Prowl thought, so plausible.
"'course, it was burnt out and ruined, same as everything else on the Highway, so I was checking for mines -"
"Paint mines, perhaps?" Prowl interrupted.
"Your factory," Trailbreaker muttered through his grill. "I was checking for mines, but I didn't realize there was someone else in there already."
"You were ambushed by a performance artist?" Prowl asked dryly.
"Can you let me shift my gears before putting your foot on the clutch?" Trailbreaker asked, revving his engine. Prowl held up his hands apologetically. "Anyway, by the time I ducked into this building the rain was already coming down, and Prowl, it was steaming. It was a really sizzler, hissing all around the place."
Prowl silently contacted the base computer and asked for a weather report to confirm or disprove Trailbreaker's statement.
"I was poking around in this place - an old fuelling station, by the looks of things. I was just running a headlamp over the place when I see these two red optics looking at me in the gloom."
"Ah. A rogue Decepticon painter."
"Prowl!" Trailbreaker yelled. "It was Mixmaster, the Constructicon. He must've come in the back way when I was coming in the front, because he was as surprised as I was, and we just yelled and jumped and fell bumper over back-axle on the floor. I couldn't help but laugh, and he giggled like an idiot, and-"
"And then he threw a paint-bomb at you?"
"Y'know, you really oughta take classes in learning to listen," Trailbreaker said, continuing. "When we'd stopped laughing and picked ourselves up, it was raining like the wrath of the Builders outside. It was so dark you couldn't see the other side of the forecourt, lightning going like war in the clouds -"
"Yes, yes, spare me the picturesque," Prowl said, tapping a finger on his hip impatiently.
"Anyhow, we took one look at one another and realized we weren't going anywhere in the rain, so we ... we sat down and played scatterpiece."
Prowl looked down at the strategist, hunkered in the cleaning spray, still more green than black. "And?"
"And ... well, we were betting, and, eh, I lost."
"What did you lose?" Prowl asked.
"My dignity," Trailbreaker grumbled. "I bet on a seven and he said if I won he'd eat one of my tires, so I said if I lost he could paint me green."
"So you let him?" Prowl asked, astonished.
"Yeah," Trailbreaker said, shrugging on his suspension. "Beats being stuck in the rain."
"You came back to base late and painted because you were trapped by rain with a Constructicon who beat you at scatterpiece?" Prowl asked.
"Uh ... yes?" Trailbreaker said uncertainly.
"You do realize I could put you on report for fraternizing with the enemy?" Prowl said.
"You do realize you've got your axle stuck up your exhaust pipe?" Trailbreaker replied, shaking himself. Shreds of green paint sloughed off. "You never been rained in with a 'con before?"
"Several times," Prowl replied. "I did what any true Autobot would do. I arrested them."
Trailbreaker didn't laugh. "Funny," he said, "I thought being a true Autobot meant trying to be friends with our enemies, not arresting them."
"We obviously have different ideas about how this War will be brought to an end," Prowl said coldly, turning his back on the strategist. "I'll see that this goes onto your file." He walked out of the chamber.
As the door closed behind him, he heard Trailbreaker cry, "Make peace, not handcuffs!"
Author's notes & addenda:
Feedback always welcomed.