Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

(Crack. Enjoy!)

==Earth= the ARK= Jazz's Recently Discovered Office==

Jazz sighed as he slouched at his desk, his helm resting in-between his servos as he tried to make sense of the report Bumblebee had handed in. He gave an aggravated scrub of his faceplate before finally giving in and throwing his stylus at the door with a grumpy huff of air from his intakes.

"Prowl…" he whined down a communication link to the working SIC's office, "I'm bored, let's interface on your desk."

"Jazz, I just managed to finish knocking the dents out from last week." The Praxian mech replied sourly as he tried to continue working, stacking his data-pads in alphabetical order with the most urgent resting on the top. "Now go away and do something constructive, I nearly authorised Sideswipe's request for a trapeze in the training room."

"What about my desk?" Jazz asked enthusiastically nearly bouncing in his seat in excitement at the thought, his internal fans whirring on as his engine revved.

"No, it's unstable thanks to the crack down the middle where Optimus fell on it the last time we had that private High Grade party… Why do you think I always bring a tub of industrial strength glue with me every time I enter your office?" the SIC retorted.

"I thought you always brought it to make sure I behaved." The saboteur said in confusion, scratching a helm horn, "You did threaten to glue my interface panel shut the last time I tried to jump you in your office."

"No, that's why I bring the nail gun." The tactician replied neutrally as Jazz squeaked in horror.

"You wouldn't!" Jazz protested in horror.

"Have fun finishing those reports Jazz." Prowl said blandly, cutting the communication link and giving Jazz a flare of coy love through their bond.

The black and white racing Porsche grumbled, sending a poke of love back before going back to his work puzzling over the scribbled scrawl of Bumblebee's handwriting.

"I'm bored!" he finally whined, banging his helm on the desk accidently turning on his computer terminal that flooded the dull room with the screen's pale light. He tilted his head so his cheek plate was flat against the data-pad, his visor blinking curiously at the advert that had popped up on his screen.

"Make your own website…" Jazz hummed heaving himself up into a sitting position and dragging the monitor closer to him. "Well… I suppose I've got nothing better to do…"

==A few weeks later==

Optimus sat in his office with a frustrated looking Prowl standing across from him, the Second in Command of the Autobots twitching like Red Alert on the fritz. "And you say they haven't been pranking these last few days at all?"

"That is correct." The Praxian huffed, his doorwings flaring up and down into their 'I'm fragged off and I don't even know why' sequence. "They're up to something, I know it. Those pit spawns are always up to something!"

"I'm sure you are fretting over nothing Prowl." Optimus tried to soothe also slightly bewildered as to why Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would want to spend time at their shift posts and not prank Prowl to kingdom come like they usually did. "This may sound offensive Prowl, but maybe they want to move onto a new target?"

That earned the Prime a glare and a data-pad to the helm, "Don't be stupid Prime, they've been pranking me since they enlisted."

Optimus ducked his helm trying not to snicker as the SIC stalked from the room, vowing to find out what was going on. "Come on then Prime! It's your fragging crew!"

Scrambling like his spark depended on it; he caught up with the disgruntled SIC that had once served his predecessor as the Praxian stalked towards Teletraan's control room.

They were greeted by a snickering Sideswipe, the red and black frontline warrior huddled before the main screen typing away at the controls. "Hey! Do Prowl next!" Sunstreaker chuckled shoving his brother out of the way to key in the symbols for Prowl's designation.

"Ahem!" Prowl snarled, clearing his vocaliser with a furious roll of static, from beside the bemused Optimus, startling the Twins into erasing their activities. "Twins…"

"Hi Prowl sir!" Sideswipe chirped innocently as the Datsun prowled forward to loom over him, the red and black twin cringing into his seat, making himself as small as possible as the tactician reached to press the back button, revealing the screen the Twins had been so enthralled with.

"Prime's Name Game- Insert your name and our artificial Matrix will modify your designation into something worthy of the title of Prime." Prowl said reading from the brightly decorated internet page.

"We're only members of the site! I swear!" Sideswipe squeaked as Sunstreaker bolted for the door, zipping past a chuckling Optimus' frame like a gold version of Blurr. "It was Jazz's idea!"

"Optimus? Permission to string my mate up by his audio horns?" Prowl asked as he slid into the Sideswipe's vacant seat as the last half of the suo made a break for it as Prowl called after him, "I hope you're running for the brig!"

"Not Granted. So what is this name game?" Optimus asked curiously sitting beside his SIC as Prowl navigated away from the page even as it finished processing and modifying Prowl's designation into a Prime's title. "Prowler Prime. I like it."

"I don't, you can clearly see Jazz had a hand in doing that." Prowl grumbled as the sites name blinked at the top of the screen along with the features of the new, but incredibly popular site according to the visitor counter. "The ARK Network."

Optimus gave a chuckle as he spotted a feature named 'Prowl's Planning Corner' where the troops could customise the backgrounds of their shift timetable and agree to swap shifts.

"He just earned himself two orns in the brig." The Praxian sulked at the image of himself working at a desk was shown as the background for the page.

"Oh come on Prowl!" Optimus grinned behind his mask giving his unimpressed SIC a nudge before going off to explore Jazz's creation. "It's fun! Look, you can take the Twins' Virtual Tour around the ARK or you can chat to the other bots in Bluestreak's Babble Café…"

"It's not educational, therefore has no purpose." The Tactician growled as he spotted a link for the ARK's Betting Pool column. "I'm going to hang Smokescreen up by his doorwings next to Jazz."

"I can prove you wrong Prowl." The Matrix barer said teasingly clicking on 'Ironhide's Weapon Wash' that was giving tutorials and weapon advice. "See? It's teaching bots how to take care of their weapons."

"Then do tell me what the interactive game 'Dodge Ratchet's Hatchet!' is doing in the links column?" Prowl snapped, clearly not impressed.

"It says here that it's a fully interactive game where you have to dodge a virtual Ratchet that throws wrenches. You can play as Wheeljack, Ironhide or one of the Twins." Optimus said excitedly almost bouncing in his seat, "Let's play!"

Prowl sighed bemoaning the childishness of his Prime as he slouched in his chair shaking his helm before getting up and heading for the door, "I'm going to lock myself in my office and do my paperwork sir."

"Very well Prowl." Optimus said as a computerised chibi Ratchet began to throw the wicked looking wrenches at the chibi Wheeljack that Optimus was currently controlling. "Keep your terminal on, I'll contact you through Bluestreak's Babble Café later."

"Yes, sir." Prowl sighed rolling his optics as he spied Jazz dancing down the hallway. "You strive to make my life hell you know that?" he said to his amused mate that grinned broadly at Optimus' curses coming from the Command Hub as the Ratchet in the game caught his virtual Wheeljack.

"But you love me really." The saboteur giggled nuzzling his mate that wrapped him in a hug in the emptiness of the corridor, "Anyway, I created the ARK Social Network so that it'll keep everybody entertained while we get busy in your office. I've had one sparkling; let's start trying to get those other three!"