Summary: When Prowl gets miffed, beware. CLANG!
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Transformers, but unfortunately they belong to Hasbro and Takara.
A/N: This is inspiration from a fic I read from a real talented TF-fanfic author. I credit it to her, and the unending amusement it gave me. Thank you Tirya King for 'Blondes Have More Fun'! (And I hope I'm not plagiarizing anyone's work!) Reviews are welcomed.
Prowl's Angels
Prowl had had it.
This time, they had gone too far.
And he knew, deep inside his spark, that they knew that too. They were definitely hoping to get their money's worth in a colossal reaction out of him. They may just get it. He didn't know whether to scream or cry.
Trailbreaker and Hound tried to keep their faces poker-straight, but they did to little avail.
Both Autobots burst into fits of laughter, the black and large form of Trailbreaker keeling over and landing on his aft, still snorting away. Hound tried to be more polite, but he leaned over the tactician's table, covering his head with his arms and his guffaws mercifully muffled.
Now Prowl knew why there was a 'bot-sized mirror in his office today.
He was staring at himself, with more than the average look of disgust that he would have worn. His face was distorted, thick red luscious eyelashes drawn around his optics; equally rosy red paint were on his lips making them look thick and full, two large pink ovals 'blushed' on his cheeks, and the outrage did not stop there.
His white cranial unit was painted like a human woman's hair, ruby red, streaky and textured softly, and his chest plate was given a paint treatment to look voluptuous, and was that a micro-skirt outline and mid-riff design of hot pink paint he now sported, with similar heels to match?
A multitude of emotions were coursing through Prowl's optics, flashing about his head: Embarrassment, horror, anger and, of all things, humiliation.
He was pretty sure who the culprits were. This had their fingerprints all over it, right down to the full kiss-mark on his right cheek.
His optics narrowed, and the lashes fluttered down (most fetchingly, to his horror).
The Lamborghini duo. He remembered now that he cleared two orders of paint from the Lamborghinis, Red claiming that Yellow has decided to try a project for a community art festival coming up soon, and needed paint. He gave it the 'all-clear' without a second thought.
What a blunder that was.
Hound dared to look again, and he went back down into his arms with a fresh new fit of laughter. Trailbreaker finally got onto his feet, and hastily left the office. Two seconds didn't pass before he heard the large mech collapse against the wall, struck by the giggles again.
'Good', he thought, 'that's a good start to the most humiliating day I've to spend on Earth. Now, to the wash-rack…'
He heard the door open and two familiar sets of footsteps came to his office.
Oh no.
A low wolf-whistle came from behind, "Why, 'ello gorgeous!"
Prowl didn't even bother to spin around to see who said that. The mirror gave away their identities: Jazz and Optimus Prime.
The other heads of the Ark must have come to get a morning report and patrol-duty lists.
Jazz had said that naughty little phrase, a wicked grin on his faceplate, and behind that visor Prowl could almost envision a pair of smirking azure-blue optics chuckling back at him with much mirth.
Even Optimus Prime couldn't help but let out a chuckle, but that was all. Graciously all. And Hound wisely took his chance to flee, shoving the chair back and hurriedly taking off, but not without a second glance back.
"Excuse me," Prowl mumbled awkwardly, and to his horror, in a feminine-like shy and quite manner, and hastily made his escape.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of a drag-'bot heading down the corridor. Both were wise enough to hide in the recreation room as the tactician, fuming and the frown on his face more than evident, made his way to rid himself of the new design he acquired overnight.
The twins crawled out when the coast was clear. Behind them was Ratchet, who nearly gave their cover away just moments ago, but they pulled him back to watch the spectacle of their tactician in a drag and on the runway.
Ratchet was amused. In fact, he was stifling giggles that threatened to send Prowl back down the corridor.
At least this Monday morning was not so bad. The twins' pranks were often a great way to relieve pent-up stress from the medbay, even if it drove him up the wall and ceiling over and over again at the sheer stupidity of their actions. He guessed it only amused him when it did not send a patient his way.
"Heh, that'll last for a while," Sideswipe mused as he went up to a panel in the wall a few paces from the door. The panel had a hole drilled into it, which when Sideswipe removed revealed an ingenious creation Wheeljack had made recently: a hi-speed camera.
With a swipe, he had unloaded the film and sub-spaced it, along with the camera. He took out a small orange circle – the missing piece of the wall – and a bit of metal adhesive.
The red Lambo carefully and dexterously adhered the piece back in and re-fitted the panel while his brother stood guard, the yellow one's optics on Ratchet, who had leaned against the opposite wall of the corridor to watch the twins work.
The medic (grudgingly) marvelled the way the twins worked together. Slag if they always ended up wounded together, or at least more times than one being wounded severely and the other with a scratch (but if it was the red one wounded and the yellow one scratched, it'd be a totally different tale), but they were still… somewhat… amiable.
Their cohesion together on the battlefield did save him a larger torrent of patients every time a battle was over. Tales of the twins taking blows for others, downing a lurking Decepticon, and at times saved the others with their notorious and ever-vicious-and-'medic pain-bringer' jet judo.
And that did put a small smile on his faceplate, as he watched them.
Sunstreaker growled at the higher rank, "You won't 'let the robo-pussycat out of the bag', will you?"
Sideswipe admonished from behind, "Aww, bro! Let the cranky old medic have some fun! He keeps patching us up when no one would and you treat him this way? Shame on you."
His vocal synthesizer imitated the sound of a human clicking his tongue loudly, wagging a finger.
"Slag off, grandma," the yellow one shot back.
"I'm the only one who can fix you both properly," Ratchet retorted, "as you two glitches keep wrecking your entire systems when you do your slagging 'jet judo' out there and leave me to clean up after you two, time after time!"
Sunstreaker, immune to the medic's tirade, gave the medic a rare grin, "You're right, Sideswipe. Actually, I think it's better you spread the tale, Ratchet. The prank would have its total effect. And we'll slip you copies of the pictures before this goes wildfire."
Now that, Ratchet considered.
"And we won't bother you with-" Sideswipe began, but Ratchet caught him midway. Both twins noticed a rather rare feature on his faceplate: a slight, crafty curling of his lips.
"All right, I'll grab some high grade and see what happens. And well done."
With a sigh that gave away the exhaustion the mech felt, Prowl rose from his office chair. For once, he had Sunshine's enthusiasm of his appearance and worked hard on his exterior to remove all the traces of paint on his body and gave himself a rebuff in an attempt to make his spoilt day a hint better.
Today was a hectic day. Prime was not pleased. Jazz was his usual self, having laughed off the joke, but had suitably sobered up.
The Autobots had suffered five defeats in a row. Thank goodness the Decepticons did not make off with any energon, but that was little comfort to their humiliation. Plan upon plan was demolished, literally, by the large form of Bruticus and Megatron's wave of Seekers. What was worse, the humans were keeping track of their progress (or lack of, as things currently stood), and it did not bode with the Autobot Commander, and neither did it with him, that they would lose the good relationship they have built with the humans.
And morale was running low, much lower than the Pit.
They had to find a way to get back at the Decepticons. Be it sneaky, tactical, or downright brutal and tough, they had to achieve success. The meeting was unable to produce any plans of a comeback, and Prime was forced to end it that way when the sun started to go down.
All Prowl wanted now was a good mug of energon and get the horrid day done with already.
And it seemed, when a raucous din rose from the recreation room, that he would not have that.
What did he do to deserve such karma?
He could guess what had just happened in there.
And when he stepped into the room, his fears were confirmed.
The optics of the entire Autobot delegation on Earth turned to him, and stared. Ogled. Whatever that fit. He could practically see the mirth that was building behind those blue optics.
Wait, it was not everyone. Where were those twins of terror?
There was a moment of silence. Then, the storm broke with the diapasons of wolf-whistles and cat-calls.
"Hey, lovely!" Cliffjumper called from his place on the couch, the Mini-bots looking at Prowl with their most innocent faces. He patted the empty seat next to him, "care to join us?"
If Prowl were human, there would have been an enormous throbbing vein at his temple right now.
"Weld your snappers! Ah'm sure she'd prefer our company, right fellas?" Ironhide drawled to his companions Smokescreen, Wheeljack, Skyfire and Inferno, who was seated next to him, who couldn't help but snicker. All four were leaning against the wall… posing at him?
"Nah, she'd like livelier boys like us!" Air Raid winked.
"Hey babe, wanna check out the night activity? My quarters? Ten?" Slingshot growled.
Prowl felt himself stiffen.
Silverbolt shook his head at the second-in-command, trying to look apathetically at him. Well, he tried.
"Mute your vocals," Tracks growled, and Slingshot scowled back, but not after releasing a whistle of his own, ticking off a hoot from the Aerialbots.
The blue warrior approached Prowl with a mug of energon and held it forward graciously.
"A treat for you, my lady."
And Tracks beamed a demure smile only Johnny Depp could handle.
Prowl ignored the suave Autobot before him, and the new calls that were roused by the act, and surveyed the room. It was only a few, a namely few, who had seen him in his getup. Optimus Prime was nowhere in sight, and that took him off the list of who had told the tale. Jazz… well, here he comes now.
The black and white mech strode to a beat in his audios, a wide smirk on his faceplate and his visor nodded towards the tactician. He was humming some Earth song.
That was normal.
Then Jazz crooned as he passed Prowl, "Where you're from, you sexy thing?"
That was not normal.
Bluestreak burst into laughter, leaning against the bar to catch his breath.
Ratchet patted the gunner on the shoulder knowingly, and raised his shot of energon. The slur in the medic's words told Prowl he was already far from sober.
"A toast - a toast to the femme Prowl, and Primus preserve her beauty and youth!"
And the Autobots needed that as the last nudge. They all fell into great whoops of laughter. Protectobots were leaning against Aerialbots and vice versa. The Minibots slapped their thighs mid their outcry. The other warriors, trackers, be whoever they were, united in bringing upon wave and wave of mirth at the tactician, as Blaster sounded from his cassette the infamous song 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You'.
And was Prowl miffed? He was; in fact he was running through the gamut from muted horror to stifled anger to pure irritation.
But he was not going to show it. He was still thinking, trying his best to tune out the laughter and keep his face poker-straight. Tracks had gulped down the energon that was offered to him in that toast and joined his comrades in laughter.
Who else on the list was accounted for? Hound and Trailbreaker were there, but their character would be the least likely to spill the beans to such a state (then again, the joke was already very laughable). Jazz did his part. The twins were nowhere in sight.
"Come on, First Aid," Ratchet called for his apprentice, "we've got a…" he took down one last gulp of high-grade, "medbay to clean."
Excusing himself from his team members, the learning young Protectobot took his teacher in the best shoulder sling he could manage and led him on. He paused to give Prowl a commiserating smile and Prowl returned it with a forced one of his own to the back of the two medics.
By now, Prowl had enough. If he wanted energon, he'd get it from the office dispenser then, never mind if it's mid-grade.
Before he could turn to leave, Skids' cry rang clear amidst the din.
"HEY GUYS! LOOK WHAT I FOUND!"
The ill-fated tactician only had a glimpse of what the theoretician found, held up high in his hand like a prize, and his face fell in recognition of what it was.
It was a photograph of him, in his dolled-up state, in a sashaying pose like a human female model to the wash rack. The corner of the incriminating photograph had something written in pink which, upon closer inspection by freeze-frame, was a cursive "With much love, Prowlie" with hearts dotting the 'i's.
And, much to his horror, there seemed to be a stack of those images on the bar top, where Ratchet was a minute ago.
Everything clicked into place.
With no more need to be in the den of degradation, Prowl turned and coolly strode out of the room, just as a flurry of his comrades rushed to the bar top.
Finally with a cup of mid-grade, Prowl retired to his quarters. Already there were some bouquets of wildflowers laid at the door, the handiwork of Hound and Trailbreaker he suspected, though more than two were there.
He could not help but find them suspicious.
One bouquet was lavishly spilling forth with deep passionate red roses, the buds still in its cupped form before bloom, and the floral paper which snugly embraced that bundle was as equally deep a red as the blooms. A satin pink ribbon complimented it, along with a scented card which Prowl dared not to read.
Another was a cheery yellow, with yellow carnations peeping out of the pastel auburn floral paper, yet immaculately arranged so that the flowers created a heart-like shape. Traces of white spray wove through the delicate blossoms, and all this was bundled with yellow ribbon, professionally trimmed and hewed in which created strips in the middle of the flow, which in turn was tied and stripped into curls that bounced at the nudge of the bouquet, and complimented with an orange envelope tucked inside.
If this was endearing, Prowl did not catch on. Those two bouquets were on his desk now, the cards removed, in front of him and still sealed. The two others, he left them on his bunk.
Now this was going too far for his likes.
The twins, by the means of their exquisite gifts, had openly admitted their crime to him. He could guess that they were gloating over their victory at the best prank they had pulled off on the second-in-command. And worse, they roped in Ratchet, the crabby medic. How they did it, he will not question, and he never supposed that Ratchet would co-operate in this illogical nonsense.
Logic served that the medic would not hold grudges or pull off pranks that may mortally wound his patient physically or, in this case, mentally.
But his CPU was working overtime (if it hadn't already been). While all the humiliation and mirth was going about, Prowl struck a memory that occurred back at the fruitless meeting.
'Like as if that will help us, Prime," Jazz grumbled, twirling the pen in his fingers.
Prowl shook his head too, "I understand your anxiety, Commander, but there is little reason for us to review all the Decepticon weaknesses. We need those that are theoretically sound, logical and are possible for us to carry out."
Prime leaned back against his chair, an inkling of a smirk on his faceplate, "I know, Prowl, but why not this one? The proof is all there," he pointed to the data-pad before him, "and it's rather possible."
"C'mon, Prime!" Jazz predicted that, somehow someway, by the miracles the Pit could cough out, they would deviate to that subject, even if it was not his doing. He shook his head, his visor gleaming under the light, "I think it still really is a bad idea."
Prime raised an eyebrow at the Special Operations officer.
"Lemme explain. We know that the Seekers had a rather-" here he coughed, "strong inclination towards femmes, be them Autobot or Decepticon, especially Sky-swat and Star-cream, and Thunder-clang may have joined the crew, looking at the orders of some data-mags we've traced."
A snigger rose from Prime. Trust Jazz and his name-games to get in here.
"Problem is that we've no femmes. Any femmes that exist would be back on Cybertron and we can't 'ire one to fly over and play coy with 'teh enemy.
"And 'dat will lead us to find our own people to do such a job, but even if they 'ere dolled up like the twins did ta Prowl man," Jazz leaned back in his own chair, a calm Jazz-ish smile coming onto his features, "the Seekers c'tell something's fishy.
"And who'd volunteer? No one would do it man, and if some did, they'd be 'riskin' their 'ides to them Seekers', to quote Iron-man.
"So it's not a good idea, Prime-man. Not a good idea."
Prime glanced at the tactician and Prowl shook his head, "I agree with Jazz."
And the debate ceased to be.
Now, as he stared at the roses and carnations, a plan was formulating in his head. What he needed now was revenge on the purple-insignia-groupies, and those who were involved in the foul misdeed.
And why not get those two birdies with a single stone?
Oh yes, why not?
For the first time in that day, his mouth corners turned up a little.
He hailed his communicator for the leader. By the sound of his groggy voice, Prowl knew he was burning midnight oil like him.
Optimus Prime. What's the matter, Prowl?
"Optimus, I have an idea."
The twins did not expect the sight before them as they left their quarters.
It was Prowl, the 'drag-'bot', leaning against the wall, his door-panels parallel to the rust-coloured interior of the Ark. He had a calm serene smile on his features, a lovely smile, and in the crook of his effortlessly-crossed arms nestled the two bouquets the twins made for him personally after their patrol. His left foot was crossed behind his right, and his azure blue optics gazed languidly at the two.
"Good morning."
"Morning!" Sideswipe replied, betraying nothing, "Lovely day, isn't it?"
Maybe a little more to betray.
"How can you tell it's a lovely day when you haven't seen it for yourself?" the black and white queried, calm as a cat.
"Weather forecast."
The chevron on the tactician rose ever so slightly, in the action of raising one's eyebrow.
"And how would you know that it's lovely weather at six in the morning, and the radio stations have not started airing?"
"And what do we owe this pleasure of seeing you in the morning without orders?" Sunstreaker imperiously asked. He wanted this little game of 'polite' verbal tennis over and done with. He has a date with the energon dispenser to keep to.
Prowl unhooked one arm and gestured to the bouquets.
"Oh, nothing really. Just wanted to thank you both for the lovely gifts that brightened my day yesterday. And I know you both had done something around the Ark to lift the dismal atmosphere and I thank you for that too. Our comrades were able to let off much pent-up anger in a less-than-violent way since our defeats with the Decepticons of late. So on their behalf, thank you."
Sideswipe caught a scent of a turbo-fox underneath that steady voice. His brother did too. Prowl knew that, and knew a little more. It was such a pity that the two deer were still staring at the blaring headlights.
"And in return, I have something for you two."
CLANG!
CLANG!
Ratchet peeked from the corner and picked up his arc welder. Prowl himself wore a wide grin, tapping a titanium metal rod borrowed from Sparkplug in his hand, both bouquets scattered asunder on the floor.
"Nice throw, Ratchet."
"Boomerang skills. Wanted to try that."
Hoist and Grapple welcomed in Prowl, who now strode into the medbay with his head higher than it was yesterday.
"It's a success," Grapple gave a dazzling grin, "and I don't think they'll mind the change at all."
"I wouldn't think so," Prowl replied.
"So, how will the plan work? You think it'll work?" Hoist asked.
"Patience, my friends, patience," Prowl coolly replied, a gleam in his optics of an insane scientist flashing, "and we'll see how it goes."
"…you know, Prowl? You're scaring us." Hoist commented.
Wheeljack looked up from a section of the bay veiled by curtains, his headfins blinking jovially with cheery cobalt, and his smile was given away by the tone of his voice.
"Well, Prowl! The person Ratchet and I wanted to see! I hope they wouldn't mind this at all, considerin' that somehow a human version of this is not well-received."
"No worries 'jack. It's all exterior work, and it's temporary." Ratchet emerged, wiping his hands in a rag.
Prowl nodded to the medic and engineer. It's going as planned.
But there was a 'however' hanging in the air. Someone identified it.
"But, Prowl? There're three portraits. We've done two," Wheeljack pointed out.
Yes, going as planned.
"There is one more party missing…"
He slowly started to pace around the room, "I knew it was a little strange to just send two, especially when there are three Seekers in question in case the entire group decided to appear. If that isn't likely, I'd prefer someone to keep an eye open by being in the group and not losing his head…"
He paused in front of the medic, who had not budged and was still cleaning his hands with the rag.
"Ratchet?"
The medic raised his chevron in a tilt.
"What?"
"Goodnight."
CLANG!
"Thank you for co-operating for the good of the team," the black and white tactician patted Wheeljack on the back. The latter was suffering from a serious bout of laughter.
Hoist and Grapple reclined in two spare bunk beds, both having recovered from their own fits and were shaking their heads at the tactician.
"We had to, for we didn't want to end us as the fourth and fifth victims."
"You do have a nasty arm, sir. Bad as Rat-" and that sent the orange-hued construction crane into another fit.
"Will you can it? My audios had enough," Hoist moaned, despite the chirpy laughter that infected his vocaliser.
"Of course! You all must be so tired… Consider the rest of your day off, and the night as well. Wheeljack, you'll have to be here for briefing tomorrow morning."
"Here?" Wheeljack sat up from his chair, startled.
"Yes, here. We can't move the patients out."
Yet.
"-And help me inform the others to come. I'll inform Jazz and Optimus Prime."
"Very well," the Lancia flicked off some metal powder from his front and stood up, "thanks to you, now First Aid and I will have to clean up the medbay by ourselves."
"And you'll watch over the patients, right?" Grapple winked.
"Oh yeah, yeah I will," Wheeljack winked back, his headfins blinking as he chortled, "as long as I get front row seats at tomorrow's cabaret!"
Prowl nodded back, and the rare grin of enthusiasm dawned on his features.
"WOAH!"
That was Thundercracker, who had immediately transformed in mid-air by the sight he saw below.
The three Seekers were cruising leisurely today, a break they badly wanted after their victories against the Autobots. Behind Megatron's back, they had planned a trip to the Autobots HQ, undetected of course, to see them licking the ground.
They had been flying in formation, a matchstick-straight line, and were planning to fan out over the forest when Thundercracker had stopped.
The domino effect took place most nicely.
"OW!"
"Oof! Watch it you scattered bolt-"
That was as far Starscream went.
Right there, under their noses, were the three most gorgeous things they've ever seen in a long while.
Femmes!
That's right. Femmes.
Three of them in fact.
One of them was a figure of ebony that shone in the sunlight, leaning against a boulder. A slender statuette with an air of grace and a nuance of elegance under the solar rays, she basked.
A perfect onyx statue with her streamlined arms by her side and legs crossed lazily, and her optics – oh, the lazuli jewels she was bestowed with! A charming full-lipped smile on her face-plate, the slender ivory chevron that framed her features and all the curves of her form accented by the sunlight, she was a drop-dead gorgeous femme, and a good thing too that she was almost-seeker-height, which all the more suited her features.
The other two were lying on the soft grass, eyes to the sky, and most co-incidentally in their direction. They were alike as two buds of a cyber-rose, yet each bore their own difference in features.
Both were a hue of sky blue, echoing the tint of the sky the seekers sailed. Both were svelte forms, and in that area they were alike, with slender mid-sections and their chests, arms and legs were delicate swirls of the aforementioned blue and white, and their hands clasped across their mid-section, but one of them moved theirs to point at the three Seekers in the air.
One had been adorned with long cobalt hair-like plates by the sides of her head, and they acted like hair as well. As she shifted her head to gaze at where her companion was pointing the plates moved as well. The wavy texture of the metal gave off refracted glares of the afternoon sun, flaring at the movement and softly waving in the wind.
The other had a hair-like feature braided from the tip of her crown, going around the circumference and curling to the back of her head, adding to her tomboyish looks and yet served as a 'tiara' feature, gleaming as a cerulean ornament.
The two had refined heart-shaped facial plates and sported almost the same body shape as their black counterpart, save that one with the waving hair was, noticeably, better-endowed than the other. The two shared the same facial features as the black one: full lips, lazuli eyes that gazed out into the sky and fine clipped noses, except that they lacked the ivory chevron the black one had.
It was the one with the braided 'hair' that pointed, and all three heads upon their svelte, attractive forms swivelled to the sky.
The black one gave a giggle, a soft delicate sound that made the Seekers tingle.
That's it.
Time to meet some femmes.
The three Decepticons performed their grand touchdown: transforming in mid air in formation to robot mode, Starscream at the lead and landed on the ground on both feet with a macho-ist pose of a balled fist to his waist and carrying his head higher in pride. Skywarp and Thundercracker both landed in similar fashion to the other Seeker, save that they both folded their arms in, flanking the sides.
Skywarp flashed Thundercracker a glare for imitating his pose, but it was ignored.
One of the blue ones giggled at the Seeker's reaction, the rolling her optics in mock disapproval. Their ebon counterpart stepped in.
"Sisters, sisters…" she calmed them down. A most sophisticated voice flowed from her vocalizer like smooth water that flowed from a spring, lilting and mid-range, a warm smile on her features.
She looked most exquisite, and Thundercracker nudged Starscream. The sophisticated one was his.
"C'mon! That was quite cute," the braided one spoke. Her voice was light and bubbly like high-grade energon, and her optics sparkled brightly of youth, much youth and exuberance.
"Hmph, don't like them a bit. Don't see a bit of charm in 'em," the other with the wavy hair looked at them with an eye, sarcasm leaking through her voice, a little lower in pitch than her sibling but warm and rich. She was probably the elder of the two.
Starscream beamed. The latter one was feisty and drop-dead hot. She'd do. Skywarp would have to settle for the younger one, then.
The red, blue and white seeker elbowed Skywarp and gestured to the 'tiara'-bearing one, and pointed at him.
"Yours."
Skywarp frowned, but did not complain. Both had wanted the same one. Ah well, the other still was cute.
With that, the two blue ones rose. The wavy haired one dusted off the grass stains but the other did not mind a bit. The ebony one stepped forward, the two flanking her sides.
"Well, what do we have here?" She crossed her slender arms and stood before the Seekers, hip leaning to a side.
"Seekers, Patina, three of them. They do look kinda cute, I mean, look at the purple one. Looks hunk-"
"Knock it off, sis," the latter quipped sharply. A thin set line of a frown resided on her face, but the manner which she looked away was of a fierce grace, and it enhanced her beauty.
"Ladies," Starscream bowed as gracefully as he could manage, "dare I ask what are three lovely femmes like you doing out here in the wilderness?"
"Oh, this scrap of green mess? We got lost, no thanks to my sister Bummer Pot-"
"It's SummerSpot," the braided girl twittered in reply, paying no heed to her sister's annoyance. She strode past her companions to face the Decepticons herself.
"Ignore SnowStar; she had run-ins with some guys before, and still feels the after-burn-"
"Ignore SummerSpot; she's too much of a talkative petro-parakeet-"
"And ignore my two younger sisters for they argue when it comes to males," the ebon one, now identified as Patina nudged the two aside, "but yes, we are lost, but we have time. Heard that the evening sunset's absolutely gorgeous from some mountain nearby and we detected you gentlemen in the area.
"Care to show us the way to the place? You could join us if you like."
"We'd be honoured, my dear. We'd be honoured. These are my accomplices, Skywarp and Thundercracker," Starscream gestured to his comrades as the named Seekers bowed to the femmes.
"I think SummerSpot and SnowStar have done their introductions, and we'd love your company. Sisters-"
"Ohmigosh!" SummerSpot raced to Skywarp's side and wrapped her arms around him, "You're the Seeker I've heard about! Check him out, sis! An absolute HUNK!"
Skywarp gave a wide beam at his Seekers. He made a good choice, after all.
"Bad choice, sis. I don't care about men anymore. Ain't worth my time," she turned, her hair whipping around and turning to rest down her back as she looked away – her back facing squarely at Starscream.
A silent cue?
"Ahh, dear SnowStar, but is it true? Who are these worthless men who have scarred you?" Starscream was by her side.
"Autobots, that's who."
Thundercracker watched as his team mates got acquainted with their newfound friends. He had yet to meet his.
Patina had watched with interest at her sisters' doings, but she shook her head at the last Seeker.
"I apologize for my sisters' actions. They were the social butterflies of our little city before the war came about. They miss the attention, even if one denies it."
Thundercracker had not been watching, but suddenly found the beauty by his side.
"It's all right," an arm snaked around her shoulder, "I think my colleagues will give them the attention you need. However, I'd like to know you better. Let's sit and chat."
She turned to him and gave him a most beguiling smile.
"I mean, you were the special one! Warping powers was something I wanted, but I didn't get it."
Skywarp patted her shoulder. Both had moved away from the group and are now at a corner of the clearing, seated on the grass.
"You know, I think that you're fine by me, with or without the warping powers."
"You flatter!" SummerSpot teased, edging away from him, but he scooted closer.
"No, I don't."
He took her chin gently with his hand, and tilted it up at his.
"Because you look, by far, like the most charming femme I've laid my optics on."
Her hands shifted his hand aside.
"C'mon! You've gotta be joking. I mean, not many guys like me because I'm a tomboy, even with this," she pointed at her 'crown' and pouted, "My sister gets all the attention instead. You would've liked her better than me!"
"I prefer you over her anytime."
SummerSpot giggled and had to look away in embarrassment. Skywarp felt something jolt in his spark.
"Really?" She turned back to look at him, her head cocked in a cute fashion.
Primus, was she cute.
Skywarp nodded.
"Even if I'm a daring tomboy?"
Skywarp laughed most heartily, leaning back and catching himself by propping himself on his arms.
"Daring is what I absolutely enjoy!"
"Really?" she repeated, her optics blinking in cute fashion.
She was very cute.
Skywarp nodded.
She leaned forward at Skywarp, sliding herself up his armour and looking straight at the Seeker's optics.
"Like a first kiss?"
Skywarp's spark melted.
"Ahh… Autobots, the bane of our kind and existence," Starscream hovered around the beguiling SnowStar. The two were together in a part of the forest, the clearing a few steps to their right and far from the others.
Starscream hoped that he could get her attention, but he was getting a rather cold reception instead.
Playing hard to get, he supposed.
"My thoughts exactly, but who are you to know?" More dripping sarcasm.
"I'm Starscream, second-in-command of the Deceptions-"
"I know that, but you don't fancy me."
Now that was cold.
"Now that's harsh," Starscream in mock chagrin, "but what can I do to make myself the fancy of this lovely femme before me?"
"Oh, I dunno… say, run in circles around me, chanting 'SnowStar, I Love You'?"
Starscream's optics widened, but he laughed. Finally, he was going somewhere.
"I meant it."
He stopped laughing.
There was a smirk on her face, a quirk of her mouth to the side of her face. She flicked her head to look at him with her azure optics, flirting at him he supposed. The 'hair' whisked and waved, falling gracefully by the sides of her face, draping her shoulders like velvet and over her chest, showing the curves most clearly.
Even when she was most demanding, she seemed most fetching. And the change from hard-to-get to come-get-me made the love game more refreshing.
"Are you going to do it? I'm getting bored."
But there were limits.
No way, Starscream. No way are you going to do that, Starscream. You're the Commander of the Seekers, second-in-command to Megatron and soon-to-be ruler of the Universe. No way will you throw your dignity aside for a drop-dead hot-gorgeous femme…No way… No way…
SnowStar was treated to a scene of red, blue and white whizzing around her, the words 'SnowStar, I Love You' wafting into her audios in a sing-song charming, yet alarming, manner.
Her grin grew, "Keep it up, 'hun."
The blur got blurrier.
Thundercracker and Patina settled to wait for evening at the boulder Patina rested at minutes ago, their backs toward where the other four have gone.
"Patina. What a lovely name. The best name to reflect your shine."
Thundercracker rested on the left of the boulder while Patina perched herself onto the boulder on the right, about the size of a Transformer desk, where she crossed her legs slender right over slender left.
"Don't you flirt with me, Thundercracker. You're interested in me, aren't you?"
Thundercracker silently cursed about giving the game away, but he only replied by turning to the femme.
She seemed to be looking away. Blushing?
"Well… contrary to what my sisters may think of your comrades, you caught my optics first."
Thundercracker's chest swelled with self-pride.
"Well, of course. You definitely have the best taste," and he was rewarded with the giggle he heard just now that sounded most melodious in his audios.
He inched an arm towards her. She saw it.
"Don't think of it."
His arm retreated to his side.
"A conversation interests me more than a physical approach. Tell me, what do you do in the ranks of the Decepticon Seekers?"
"Nothing interesting, most unfortunately. Megatron made me a soldier instead of a commander."
She seemed aghast.
"You don't seem the closest like of a soldier! Why, Megatron should have seen the budding commander in you! You're eloquent, far from arrogance, the most appealing visually and have a well-circuited cranium upon your shoulders. You were created to go far!"
"Your praise humbles me, Patina."
"Then I'll stop."
Thundercracker looked up at her, and his optics met her optics. Ruby met sapphire.
"Don't-" he spoke most abruptly, and Patina looked at him with puzzlement.
"Well… if… if it pleases you, Patina, you can go on."
A blush came on Patina's face, with a tiny smile.
"You sure? I may just say something embarrassing and you'll-"
"I won't say a thing," his hand touched hers.
She didn't inch away, but her hand tuned under his, and weaved her fingers with his.
Ah, he's getting somewhere.
"Well… given that I know that Starscream is leader, I'm sure you fare better than him any time and any way. I've heard that many Decepticon losses were created by his foolery, which I'm sure you can avoid."
The Decepticon sidled in an inch.
"I'm sure of that too, my dear. Many times had Starscream led us astray and I can't have my say of the situation."
She nodded, her optics smiling, "and there's Skywarp. I think that he's one you can't rely on. Even if SummerSpot raves on and on about him being a 'hunk', I doubt his bravery. His warping skills may be an advantage to battle, but can be a disadvantage when he cowers, teleports away from his team and leaves them behind. He's liable to be a traitor."
Thundercracker laughed, but controlled it to be in a gentlemanly fashion, "My lady, Starscream happened to seal the label of 'traitor' on all of us."
Her jaw dropped in alarm.
"He did? How dare him! It would never do. No, it would never do for the Decepticon Seekers. If its leader is a fumbler who pulls rank to get his way and wish, and its member liable to be a coward and desert the team, and you the only sensible one who knows all the flaws and solutions and yet can't do a thing about it… it would never do."
She sighed, her shoulders lifting and falling slightly.
Thundercracker closed the gap between them, now his hand crawling up her arm to her shoulder.
"I know, but don't fret for me. I'll survive, and one day I may be the commander of the Seekers, right hand man to the mighty Megatron, and seize the day."
Patina nodded, and turned to him.
"Actually, Thundercracker… I'll seize the day."
CLANG!
The blue Seeker fell, unconscious, to the ground.
Patina stored the arc welder she picked up from a crack in the boulder and hopped off the boulder.
She gave a glance at the inert form at her feet and shook her head.
"Patina to SummerSpot, are you done?"
"Oh yes," a chuckle rose from the internal communication line, "I slagged 'him good. He took the bait."
"I bet he did. Seekers bring themselves so low. Take Starscream and lug him out to where we were just now."
"SnowStar reporting, and Skywarp's seein' stars," a third voice joined the conversation.
"You do know that you're doing a bad job of imitating me, don't you?"
"I should say the same to you, bro. I still look far better than you anyway, even as a warped femme-"
"Hey, I'm the one with the hair and-"
"ENOUGH! Let's get the Seekers into the field, and get slaggin' going already! I want my old form back right now, or so help me I'll shove my scalpel blade down your vocalizers! UNDERSTOOD?"
"Yes Ratchet," the two voices chorused, and the lines closed.
"SnowStar, I love you… Snowstar I… I…ugh…"
With a groan, the leader of the Decepticon Seekers activated his optics.
It was a strange eerie silence that he heard when he finally rose from stasis lock.
It was a dark wall he saw when he tried to get rid of his horrible headache.
And he, Starscream, noticed something most disturbing of all on the wall.
He saw red. He saw the Autobot insignia on the wall.
And he felt limbs by his left and right which were not his own. Seeker limbs.
"Wake up! Wake up, junk-heads! We've been had!"
Megatron was not going to like this a bit.
The sounds of groaning and moaning reached his audios, and his two comrades came back to the world of the living.
"Where… what?" Thundercracker could only groggily rub the back of his head – and found a most disturbing dent which triggered his pain receivers and he winced.
Skywarp shook his head, a visible large scrape mark and dent on his forehead.
"SummerSpot? SummerSpot?"
"There are no femmes here, you dimwit!"
"That is correct."
The trio froze. The voice from the speaker upon the wall continued.
"And you'll find that all communication modules have been tuned to the frequency of the in-house entertainment system, courtesy of the Autobots, where we're showing the telecast of the 'Temptation of the Seekers'. Enjoy."
Before either could react, the three Seekers were treated to a receptor-blasting wave of laughter that came through their audios. They heard thigh-slapping, metal crashing into metal, the clangs of feet stomping hard on the floor and many more distinct sounds of physical reaction amidst the howls and whoops of laughter.
Starscream turned back to the others. The three of them had the same expression on their faces.
Extreme mortification.
In the control room, Optimus Prime smiled most contentedly at the sight the security cameras had to offer.
The elusive, elite and ever exasperating Seekers were under Autobot custody. Was he dreaming?
By Prowl's goodness and wit, he was not.
The Seekers were caught. Megatron has yet to reply with his answer and claim of his warriors.
The Autobots' morale is boosted. He could hear the entire ruckus from the twins' entertainment room where they watched the footage of the events that took place that afternoon. Wheeljack and the cassettes had taken the liberty to record the entire event.
A question, not a worrisome one, passed his mind. Oh, the relief that he finally had a break and the leading step in the war was bliss.
Where was Prowl?
Where were Ratchet and the Twins?
"Prime to Prowl."
"Prowl to Prime."
"Where are you?"
There was a pause.
"In the recreation room. Ratchet and the Twins are with me."
"And why aren't you in the entertainment centre watching the show?"
"It's Ladies Night. We are taking the advantage of the free flow. Care to join us?"
He held back a snicker.
"Maybe. I'd like a verbal report from each of you, anyway."
"We'll make room for one more."
Optimus could not help but notice the cheery laughter that the Twins had, and Ratchet's rarely excited voice rising in pitch.
He was going to be in the company of three, no, four femmes. He would look forward to that.
"Prowl?"
"Yes Prime?"
"Well done."
"Thank you, sir."