Unnatural Disasters
by Okami-chan
Author's Notes: Heh, it took reading the new comics to want really want to do a fanfic. Bad Okami, no cookie. This (chapter at least) takes place during issue 3 and the interim to 4. Since at the time of writing this, there are only four issues of Infiltration out, please excuse me as I take creative licensing in hand and Runamuck with it (also known as BSing). I do however feel that they are slighting some very awesome characters by not portraynig them, yet. Also, what is Sunstreaker without Sideswipe next to him. Also noteworthy is that I do not own these characters, they belong to Hasbro, and, apparently, Takara. Okami-chan proceeds to pray to all that is canon that she got the characters at least half right
Chapter 1
Nihongo ga Hanashimasen (I Don't Speak Japanese)
Sunstreaker stood in an unusually silent corridor, near the airlock. Arms crossed over his chest, and a brooding expression on his face darkened his otherwise bright exterior. He waited silently, patiently, for the airlock to open, though not for him. He stood out like a small sun in the blue-grey corridors of Ark-19. His polished yellow chrome reflected the odds and ends that cluttered shelves or hung on the walls. Sunstreaker didn't know what half of them did. Some of the others were there for emergency repairs, extra blasters, rifles, etc. Nothing really big and explosive, all that was held in a nice, and heavily shielded armory. These were back-ups, just in case a mission called for more than a bot's own armament. Sunstreaker couldn't remember the last time anyone had actually used any of these, as told by the thin layer of dust that covered them.
Sunstreaker straightened when the airlock whooshed open. Sideswipe walked in, deep in a conversation with Trailbreaker and Mirage, each of them covered in road dust. Brawn brushed by the golden lamborghini. Sunstreaker scowled down at the small streak the land rover had left on his perfect shine. He pulled out one of the rags he always kept on him and worked at the spot. A tight-linked hail received an acknowledging nod from his twin.
"Do I remember hearing Ratchet hailing for assistant?" Mirage queried.
"He wasn't scheduled for any tasks outside base today." Trailbreaker looked hopefully at Sunstreaker. The lamborghini merely grinned back, knowingly, still working at that damned spot.
"Come on, I'm sure Jazz will be more willing to divulge than Sunstreaker." Mirage drew the SUV away.
"Admitting ignorance on something, Mirage. I'm shocked. Guess even the great spy is getting rusty." The spy glowered at the golden warrior. Sunstreaker's grin widened. It was Trailbreaker's turn to draw Mirage away, before the spy was tempted to prove just how rusty he was with his shoulder cannon.
Sideswipe watched them leave before he turned to his brother. "I'd better not have to wait for an explanation." He smiled. They both knew that Sunstreaker would tell Sideswipe.
Sunstreaker's malicious grin turned into an actual smile, albeit a mischevious one, and he chuckled. "You totally missed the tongue-lashing Prowl gave Ratchet after we had to totally rescue his sorry ass. It was totally rich."
Sideswipe's smile matched his brother's and his fingers tapped a rhythmless beat by his gun compartment. "Keep using that word, brother, go right on. So what happened? What did Ratchet, of all bots, do?"
Having sufficiently annoyed his brother, Sunstreaker dropped that word, and informed him of Ratchet's abortive rescue attempt that ended with endangering three underage humans, noisy ones at that, and a rescue by Ironhide, Prowl and himself. . "Where are they now?" Sideswipe pulled a datapad from his storage compartment, half a mind on reviewing his mission log.
"Ah, Ratchet's getting some information from a data storage device one of them have that's supposed to prove the Decepticons have moved to siege mode."
Sideswipe grunted, "It'd be a nice change from boring recon missions chasing Decepticon shadows."
"Prowl to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Acknowledge."
"We hear you, Prowl."
"Sideswipe, have you given your report to Jazz, yet?" Prowl, as always was all business.
"Not yet. I was on my way to do just that," Sideswipe rolled his optics, eliciting a chortle from his brother.
"With Sunstreaker there? A likely story. Turn in your report, Sideswipe, then you and your brother are to report to me."
"Aw, come on Prowl, doesn't a bot at least get to refuel before he goes out on another mission?" Sideswipe's smile tightened.
"Don't question my orders!" With that Prowl cut the connection.
"That's a bunch of cold slag." Sideswipe stormed down the corridor. Sunstreaker shrugged.
"Guess what Ratchet did affected more than he let on." He followed his brother at a more moderate pace.
"When I get my hands on that ambulance, even Primus won't recognize him."
The red lamborghini handed his report to Jazz, who, as always, was in a chipper mood, dancing to some unheard beat in the rec room. Then the brothers reported to Prowl's office, across the hall, the framed glass doors opening before they had a chance to buzz in. Prime's door, at the end of the hall, remained close, a camera monitoring the doorway. No one saw the Commander without going through his officers first. On the right side of Jazz's was Ironhide's cubicle. The van waved off any offers to give him an actual office, or at least a door, saying he preferred easy access to the corridor, and seeing anyone going down the corridor. He fancied himself Prime's first line of defense, not to mention that Jazz let him borrow his office whenever the need arose.
Prowl's office had sufficient lighting to see by, without being an unnecessary drain on precious resources. The same could not be said of Wheeljack's lab, on the otherside of the Ark, especially when he forgot to even dim the lights. A small case of medals and awards was the only personal effect that marred Prowl's spotless office. A single shelf across the way from the case carried data pads marked with the codes Prowl set his clock to. The two perfectly lined features drew attention to the center of the room and the desk there. Prowl sat stiffly at his desk, as neat as the rest of his office. He held a datapad in his hands, but he wasn't even looking at it. He seemed to be focused on a small dent on the wall, as though its presence offended his otherwise perfect space, a deep scowl written on his face.
Hound stood to one side, as far into the corner as he could get without seming to be shrinking away. The twins glanced at each other, wondering what the tracker was doing here. When Prowl didn't even acknowledge their entrance, Sunstreaker hazarded a guess as to what occupied the officer's circuitry.
"Ratchet took off again, didn't he?" As if to confirm his guess, Prowl's cheek start to tic.
"With Bumblebee and the three humans," Hound confirmed quietly. Then he switched to a tight link. "Be glad you missed his explosion."
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe crossed their arms and exchanged knowing smiles. On the contrary, they both would have appreciated Prowl's exploding at someone other than themselves. Prowl took that moment to notice them standing there. The black and white snapped his optics across the three bots. His sea blue optics lingered on Sunstreaker, then strayed to Sideswipe, who dropped his hands to his sides at the intense scrutiny. While nowhere near as scratched, dented, and charred as Ratchet had been, Sideswipe's road dirt still did not present that chiseled and polished perfection that Prowl thought should be an Autobot's appearance at all times.
"Sideswipe, are the ionizers malfunctioning?"
The red lamborghini shook his head, "Motherfucker," he snarled over a tight link to his brother. Outloud he explained to, or rather reminded, the black and white that he had just returned to base from a mission, and hadn't had the chance to clean up, sir.
The twins kept a tight grip on their notoriously short tempers as Prowl considered Sideswipe's words. Hound found himself caught in the middle of a volcano and a lava bed, unsure of who was which. "Insubordination and Untidyness, violations of codes 13 and 72 of Autobot code of Conduct." Prowl cut off Sunstreaker's protest on his brother's behalf. "Do you want to add violations to your extensive list?" Prowl turned back to Sideswipe. "You are expected to maintain your appearance at all times."
"I'll show you appearances you-"
"What was that?"
"I said, 'Yessir'." Sideswipe's entire frame grated those words out.
Prowl eyed Sunstreaker, as though awaiting some response, before he spread his attention to include Hound. "Now then, the reason I called you." If it had been Jazz, or even Ironhide, they might have had to actually wait for them to hunt down the appropriate datapad. But no, this was Prowl, and Prowl, Mr. Type A Himself, knew where everything was on his desk. He pulled the necessary data pad from the neat stack to his left. "Skyspy has been monitoring odd energy signatures near the east coast of Honshu, Japan. There are rumors of 'mechanoids' in that area. Hound, I want you to scout it out for possible Decepticon activity. You two are his back up."
Sunstreaker raised his hands in supplication to Primus. "Great! Beachcomber, Cliffjumper, and Windcharger get goddamned Hawai'i, and we get fucking Japan."
Prowl narrowed his optics. "I suppose you want to spend the next few lunar cycles in the brig instead, the way you keep throwing those Earthen terms around."
The golden lamborghini sighed. "It's one of the few good things about this planet, really."
Hound finally opened his mouth, changing subjects. "That's another nationality. Is Wheeljack going to update our translation software? I don't fancy going there not knowing the native language."
"Ah, don't worry Hound, just use the universal greeting," Sunstreaker began. "Y'know," and the twins chorused, "Bah weep gra nah weep nini ba!"
"Or you could always say, 'nihongo hanashimasen,'" Sideswipe blinked at the blank look his brother threw at him. "Hey, it's your fault you didn't learn at least that much. I offered to teach you, but no, you had to polish your chasis for the third time that day."
Sunstreaker muttered something that sounded an suspiciously like 'asshole.'
Hound just looked at the twins, already dreading what was sure to be a gruelling mission.
"I already have Red Alert short circuiting over those three humans Ratchet involved, let's not have any more incidents." This he directed at the green jeep. "Behave yourselves." This pointed at the golden lamborghini. "Refuel and clean up." To the red lamborghini. "Be sure to report to Wheeljack for the software. Your ship leaves tomorrow at 0800." That's how they were going to get there, right. "Dismissed."