Author's note: Cracky crack is the fault of Eowyn's Faramir. He's a fan of Epps, the TF king of one-liners and the only person in the entire 'verse whose profanity is worth quoting. :) Hope you enjoy!
Epps stood impatiently in the NEST HQ in Chicago. The city was well on its way to recovery, in part because of the quirky Autobot idly looming above him. Since Que was one of the few 'bots whose remains had been salvageable after the attack, Optimus had reignited him, and Que had been eager to help with reconstructing the city. He'd been…helpful. Mostly. When he wasn't giving the fire department and NEST hazmat teams fits.
"…and he was tellin' Lennox that in the middle of all that, you complained that the Decepticons have all the good shit. Thought it was very brave, he did."
Epps winced a little, wondering where the Autobots' resident mad inventor might go with this. The 'bots tended to take humans literally until they learned better, and with Que's tendency to blow things up…
"So here you go, lad." Que proudly presented him with an oversized, old school two-way radio. "A little present for you."
"Er…thanks, man," Epps said, trying to sound grateful instead of just confused. He fleetingly wondered if 'bots ever got Alzheimer's.
"Well aren't you going to try it out?"
"Out?"
"Of course!" Que eagerly answered, snatching the radio back and transforming one of his fingers into a digit small enough to work the human-sized controls. "The communications array was slagged to the Pit – no helpin' that, I'm afraid, so the range is only going to be 5 miles or so – but most of the motor relays and all were intact. Just tweakin' the code here and there, knockin' out the odd dent or two, and then it was just a matter of house-trainin' the little bugger."
The ground beneath their feet began to tremble ominously, and Shockwave's demon-worm ploughed through the hangar doorway. Epps shrieked and dove behind Que, wondering why the hell he'd been fooled into relaxing around the crazy 'bot. The silver monster slithered toward them, heedless of the shouts of surprise and the scramble of humans and 'bots for their weapons, to collapse at Que's feet.
Que tapped his two-way radio thoughtfully. "Now what do you suppose... Oh! That's right. Motor relays are still a bit touchy." He leaned forward and thumped a fist on the worm right above its 'mouth.' The drone groaned back to life.
"Soon as I can salvage the metal for 'em, I'll make this kick-aft pet as good as new for you," Que rambled and then glanced down to where Epps had been a moment ago. "Eh? Where'd you go, lad?"
"Huh?" Epps squeaked near the inventor's ankle.
Que handed him the radio. "Here you go," he said grandly. "The remote control's battery is fully charged and ready to rumble. The good shit's all yours."