((This can be considered Part 2 of the FOC/RvB based shorts. This one takes place during Chapter 4, Eye of the Storm, where Cliffjumper is trying to contact Jazz. And, once again, the wonderful Leonard Church inspired this. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Transformers not mine. You no sue.))
YOU HAVE REACHED THE VOICEMAIL SYSTEM
Cliffjumper had been hoping the rust storm would let up sooner rather than later. He hated being separated from Jazz, his superior possibly scrap deep in trouble with the Decepticons. They had yet to find any one of Grimlock or his team, although he had had a few interactions with some of Shockwave's…pets. Said experimental cloaking technology test subject was crouched in an air vent, activating his comlink to try and reach Jazz.
"Jazz, are you there? Jazz? Jazz, do you read me?" Cliff continued to repeat, even as he turned a corner. "Scrap. There must still be interference from the storm."
"Hello," a voice cut through the static of the line, calm and pleasant.
"Oh, finally. Jazz, where-"
"You have reached the voicemail system," the voice continued.
Cliffjumper sighed, hopping out of the air vent into a sand filled room, weapon cycling. "Okay, okay, c'mon," he said in irritation.
"To leave a message, please wait for the tone,"
"I know how to leave a slagging message," Cliffjumper said through gritted denta.
"When you are finished recording, just hang up, or press pound for more options,"
"Really, hang up, no slag," Cliff muttered, stealthing past a bunch of oblivious 'Cons. "I was just going to stay on the line until he decided to answer."
"For delivery options, press five,"
"Just give me the fragging beep!" Cliffjumper practically shouted as he raced down the hall, a Guardian on his heels.
"To leave a callback number, press eight. To page this person, press six."
"COME ON!"
"To repeat this message, press nine,"
"I will fragging stab you, computer phone lady!" Cliffjumper was at the end of his patience, screaming at the voicemail while cloaked. A Decepticon nearby looked up, optics scanning the room but finding nothing.
"Matt," he shouted into a side room, "did you hear anything?"
"Huh?" a sleepy voice responded. "Whaddya say?"
"Lazy fragger," the 'Con muttered to himself.
"To mark this message as urgent, press eleven,"
"There is no eleven, you fragging whore!" Cliffjumper snapped, transformed and hiding in an access vent while two Guardians shot at the entrance in a vain attempt to reach him.
"To hear these options in Spanish, press dos,"
"I HATE YOU!" Cliff complained after he had defeated the two Guardians and opened a door, continuing along.
BEEP!
"Oh thank Primus, Jazz, it's Cliff, where are-" Cliff said quickly, only for a voice to interrupt him.
"I'm sorry, but this person's voicemail box is full," And the line went dead.
"Oh, you have got to be fragging kidding me,"