Bluestreak of Death
The scream was piercing, and familiar. Most mechs didn't go a week without hearing Bluestreak scream in his recharge. There was something wrong with this, however – it was the middle of the day, and the young gunner was supposed to be on duty with the rest of them!
In the med bay, Ratchet dropped his tools and ran towards the source of the scream; sure the young gunner was in pain. Within the confines of his office, Optimus Prime and Prowl stopped going over yesterday's reports and instead looked at each other, twin expressions of worry on their faces. Near the Dinobots lounge, Snarl lifted his head and listened as the sound faded down into the depths of the volcano, before moving along on his way.
By the time the medic and commanders had reached the large control room a crowd had already gathered. Hound, Mirage and Trailbreaker were standing at the three empty terminals, looking over the field of screens in worry. Red Alert was standing near the back with Inferno, who was trying to calm the irate security director before he blew another circuit.
In the middle of it all was Bluestreak. He stood at the main console of Teletran-1, flanked on either side by Wheeljack and Jazz. Jabbering like an irate squirrel, he waved at the screen with one hand and typed rapidly with the other. Wheeljack uncoiled a cord from his forearm and opened one of the ports on Teletran-1, meaning to connect to it directly and discover the problem.
Bluestreak practically snatched his arm back at the last second. "No, Jack! You'll catch it too!" He glanced over his shoulder at the others. "Oh, Prime, Prowl, you're here!"
"What seems to be the problem, Bluestreak?" The second in command asked calmly, approaching the console and examining the wall of monitors. Optimus followed, viewing the screens with the same amount of scrutiny as his second.
The gunner immediately launched into an explanation. "I was on the monitor duty with Hound 'n' Mirage 'n' Breaker when the screens started blinking on and off and making weird noises and there were all these odd programs popping up and then the power went out for a few seconds and when it came back on the screens were all the same and we've read them over and over again but we can't figure out what's wrong and there's only a few minutes left before they shut down and wipe our hard drive. See that's what is says on the bottom, 'two minutes left until dump of physical memory.'"
Prime nodded, re-reading the largest of the screens and committing it to memory. "I see, but Bluestreak, why did you scream?"
"Well," the young mech squirmed under his commander's careful gaze, "It's a virus. Sideswipe warned me about it the other day – said it was something a Decepticon-sympathizer named 'Bill Gates' came up with." He gazed up at Prime with large, nervous optics. "It surprised me – I didn't want anyone to catch it! Sideswipe said there was a chance it was fatal!"
"I see," Prime looked back up at screens, scrutinizing them carefully. "Where did Sideswipe get this information?"
"Spike told him," Bluestreak reassured, "He said it happened to the Witwicky's computer a few weeks ago."
Prowl pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a human gesture he had picked up from the local constable who constantly impounded speeding Autobots on the nearby highways. "Bluestreak, did you read any of these file tags?" He pointed to a line of code halfway down the bright page.
"Of course!" Bluestreak looked up at the screens once more. Each directory displayed was different. "There's a problem in the directory 5L4G-U, and one in RTCH3T-H4TCH3T." A look of worry crossed his face. "The virus must be spreading."
Realization slowly dawned on several mechs faces as they looked closer at the screens. Hound stepped forward and rested a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder. "Blue, did you ever take a look at the 'leet-speak' that was so popular a few years ago?" He asked kindly.
"Huh? Oh yeah, sure! Tracks taught me how to read it, not that it was very hard. It's like reading binary with a few human letters tossed in. Why?" Hound pointed to the files the gunner had been peering at, and watched as the mechs face fell. "I'd say the twins got us all good this time."
Prowl did his best not to sniff in disdain. "Rest assured, they will not be getting away with it." He turned stiffly and left the room in a smart march, on his way to find the troublemaking mechs and tell them to dig out their toothbrushes.
A few of the mechs – Bumblebee and Jazz, for starters – began to look over the other files, pointing out the names and insults to each other and chuckling quietly, trying not to give away their laughter to Prime. Inferno managed to drag Red Alert out of the room before his seething threats about the twins being Decepticon spies could start a fist fight.
Prime leaned past Bluestreak and studied one of the pages, grinning to himself beneath his mask. "PRIM3R0X5?" He asked, reading it aloud with a smirk in his voice.
"I believe the twins are trying for an easier punishment." Ratchet snapped, gently pushing Bluestreak aside and working with Wheeljack to unlock the screens the pranksters had set up.
Optimus rubbed his chin and nodded, turning his gaze to Bluestreak. "Just out of curiosity," he nodded to the screens, "Just what is this virus called, Blue?"
The mech grimaced, remembering the horror-story Sideswipe and Spike had spun about this very thing. "They called it the 'Blue Screen of Death."
AN: Recently, I myself was a victim of the BSOD. So of course, while I was reinstalling the Devil's Plaything (Vista) I thought, what would an Autobot do? Why, capitalize on a human fad, of course! At least, Sideswipe would. XD. So any reviews and comments are appreciated and loved! Constructive Criticism is even more appreciated – I am always looking to better my writing! Flames will be given to my hellhound Cece.
Thanks for reading! 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or the Blue Screen of Death.