Title: Rest in pieces.
Summary: Due to Decepticon attacks, pushy human governments, In-laws, and the mysterious 'Tomato bandits', it's almost impossible for a femme to get some sleep at the Autobot base. So when she does, she DOES NOT want to be disturbed. Which is bad news for the poor Decepticon assassin who sneaks into the base.
Warning: This story was spawned from a sleep-deprived brain who had too much coffee and stayed up all night reading Transformer FanFics… so when your brain melts and your eyes/optics try to crawl out of your head to get away from this, don't blame me ;P.
Warning 2: Mission - Ironhide's daughter. Dusty - Random Decepticon I made up and will probably never use again. Lori, from the 'Cybertron' series is in this and she is a transformer, don't ask me how. Despite the Cybertron character, this is Movieverse-ish.
Warning 3: My Primus-Forsaken brain couldn't make up it's slaggin' mind, so there's going to be two versions of this. The other will be called, 'WAKE THE FRAG UP!'
Rating: T for a lot of transformer and human cursing.
Random crap: God, I have to work on making my A/N's shorter.
Lori's P.O.V.
Security duty. The bane of my existence. All I did was sit here… staring at the primus-forsaken monitors… and sat here some more. God, was there anything more boring?
I banged my head against the desk. Well, I could be doing paperwork like Mission. I snickered at the thought of the poor femme. The girl was far too much like her father in the 'Cannons-are-the-almighty-awesomeness' aspect. Her idea of a good time was blowing something up, not sitting at a desk doing seemingly endless paperwork. Oh well, she drew the short straw.
I leaned back in my chair, idly wondering what Mission would do to me if she ever found out I rigged the game of chance so I wouldn't end up getting paperwork. I mean, with security duty, you could at least play some basic card games if you made sure to keep an optic on the monitors.
She'd probably change the codes to our room so I couldn't get in. I shuddered at the mere thought. As a femme in a base with dozens of mechs, your only sanctuary was your room, if only to get away from the ogling optics.
Normal P.O.V.
Lori glared at the clock. Her shift ended in five… four… three… two… one… FREEDOM! As soon as Sideswipe opened the door, she bolted, barely avoiding a head-on collision with the unsuspecting mech.
"Sorry." She didn't wait for a reply, running down the hall. She didn't stop until she was safely tucked away in her room, away from prying eyes. She loved most of the mechs in the building like brothers, but damn did they get annoying, especially now that they weren't afraid they might crush her. The red femme quickly went through her nightly routine.
Step one, make sure not to fully lock the door so Mission can get in. Check.
Step two, make sure all cabinets/lockers/random crap from around the room is closed or put away so Mission won't maim her. Check.
Step three, make sure the twins, A.K.A. the 'tomato bandits' didn't put several dozen of the squishy round things in Ironhide's bed and decide to hide in her room… again. Check.
The fourth step was a little more complicated. It required checking her answering machine and politely calling everybody back before slipping into recharge. But, considering the only message on the machine was from her fraggin' in-laws, she decided to skip that step.
Step five, ignore the whole fraggin' world and go pass out.
Recharge was a rare commodity on the Ark. Because, you know, they were in a war and more than likely a Decepticon attack would happen right as you get tired enough to offline… Fraggers.
Lori dimmed her audio sensors just enough so small sounds, like Mission opening the door, wouldn't wake her up, but if, say, an alarm went off she -might- wake up.
Dusty, as he was so lovingly called by his Decepticon teammates due to his dusty grey color, easily crawled through the vents. It was almost too easy to sneak inside the base, but there was a reason he was called the Decepticon's best scout/assassin. He peaked through a vent, watching in satisfaction as his soon-to-be victim passed under him, sighing wearily as he got a cup of energon. Primus, the so-called leader of the Autobots was making this incredibly easy.
Dusty silently moved the vent, jumping behind the large bot undetected.
Lori groaned as the alarm went off. She was so going to kill Red Alert. She grumbled as she got up, dully noting that Mission had yet to come and lie down. Must have been a big stack of paperwork.
She made her way to the security room, ignoring the still-going alarm, muttering, "Weld that fragger's mouth to his slaggin' skid plate then laugh as tries to move. Fraggin' bastard."
The security room door opened. "Red Alert, what's going o-" Lori froze as she got a good look at the monitors. "Frag." The camera to the rec. room was the only one still functioning, and it showed a scene from one of her worst nightmares. She whirled around, trying to rid her mind of a grey Decepticon holding a gun to Bumblebee's head, the dozen or so earth-bound Autobots just glaring at them helplessly. "That's it, I'll weld that fragger's mouth to his slaggin' skid plate and nail his aft to the wall then cut out that part of the wall and send him back to his Decepticon buddies. And that's after I give him a sound beating, the no good bastard. Laugh my aft off at him, too…"
Optimus fidgeted in frustration. He should have noticed the assassin sneaking up on him, then Bumblebee wouldn't have had to push him out of the way, getting himself caught.
The Decepticon now known as 'Dusty' didn't even move at the sight of several of his enemies surrounding him. He knew they wouldn't make a move while their dear 'little 'Bee' was in danger. He tightened his grip when one of them moved slightly, a silent warning.
Lori slipped into the shadows of the rec. room. A recent explosion courtesy of their resident inventor had knocked this half of the room's light out, and the other half were dimmed in power-save mode for the night.
She made her way closer to the two mechs, opening a link to Ratchet.
:Hey, Ratch:
:Not now Lori. I'm in the middle of something.:
:Yeah I know. In about five seconds, throw a wrench at Dusty's gun:
:How did you know?:
:Because I do! Now, will you throw it or not?:
:I don't know… it's risky.:
:Just trust me:
:Alright:
She waited for a few seconds, taking satisfaction in the loud CLANG as wrench met gun. Before the assassin could do anything, she tackled him. She barely stayed on her feet, kneeing him in the gut, and elbowing him in the neck in a spot she knew would knock him unconscious. It wasn't fatal, but it sure as hell would hurt when he woke up.
Lori turned to the dumbfounded army, putting her hands on her hips and giving them the specialized woman I'm-pissed-off-and-any-guy-within-a-ten-miles-vicinity-should-run-like-hell-or-just-drop-dead look. She pointed at the unconscious mech on the floor. "The next person who dares disturb my recharge ends up like him, got it?"
She didn't bother waiting for an answer before whirling around and stomping out of the room, muttering, "Those fraggin loud bastards. Gonna weld all their afts together and laugh as they wonder how in hell I did it… then use Ratchet's saw to cut out all of their vocal processors… damned idiots."
Me plus no sleep plus a bunch of coffee equals very bad for my reader's poor brain.