C.M.D: This is a somewhat older, and my first official crack at well, CRACK, fic that I ever wrote. And it of course involved my favourite TFA couple (who I wrote several other fics for before this, all of which need to be reposted). What I can't fathom is why this one was included in all the others that were pulled off of here. Maybe the admins have a thing against humor?
"I want my Soundwave!"
Denta gnashed at the irritating cry, helms turning from the unexpected guest to their Lord; expecting for him to take some sort of action. Megatron, seated in his throne, was busy rubbing fingers into the side of his helm, trying his very hardest not to simply lift his fusion cannon and shoot the intruder. It was becoming increasingly more and more difficult to refrain.
"Be silent!," Starscream yelled back, wings hitched high with ire. "You useless, talking pile of scrap metal!"
Another set of white wings stiffened at the insults, blue optics narrowing behind frames up at the SIC. "Who are you calling trash, you over-sized blow horn!," the Autobot shot back. Half-choked laughter circled around the room. "You're so scuffed and, and square... Primus, and you call that horrendous noise coming out of your throat a voice?! At least I'm not somebody's last year model!"
"WHAAAAAT?!," the seeker screeched furiously.
"And those colours?," the other mech continued. "Seriously?"
"YOU HAVE THE EXACT SAME ONES!," Starscream screamed back.
"Starscream, mute it you fool!," Megatron roared, finally getting fed up with the vain argument taking place. The SIC flinched in terror, turning anxious optics to the tyrant. It didn't look like the gun-former was going to slag Starscream at this moment, despite how venomously he was looking at his loud-mouth seeker. Still, Starscream did not want to take any chances and quickly shuffled several inches away from the grey mech.
Growling lowly in his throat, Megatron turned his attentions to their unwanted visitor. "What," he hissed, "Is your designation, Autobot?"
The corvette straightened up, faceplates pinched with determination, though his wings still trembled a little behind him. "Y-you're different than the other one...," the multi-coloured mech mumbled vaguely.
"Your designation," the gun-former demanded again. "Before you try my patience too far."
The Autobot cycled a sharp intake, cocking his servos on his hips in a motion of false bravado. "The name is Tracks," he answered, " And I'm-"
"Impossible!," Rumble blurted out. Everyone present mumbled their own agreement, equally as confused.
"How can he be Tracks?," Blitzwing added, "I've seen that narcissist- we all have! He's nothing like this wanna-be femme here."
"Excuse me?!," the "fake" Tracks gasped indignantly. "I am much better than any femme, thank you very much! Now, I would like to see my Soundwave please! I know he fell through the portal with me."
Megatron lifted his fusion cannon, shooting towards the ceiling. Immediately, the crowd's chatter died down; helms -including the Autobot's- ducking in alarm. The Warlord continued his fierce glare at the corvette, though this time there was something more calculating in his gaze. "Portal, you say?," he asked, black fingers stroking his chin.
"Y-yes," Tracks stuttered slightly. "Optimus and his maintenance crew had launched an attack-"
"Wait, maintenance crew?," Skywarp interrupted rudely. Wings twitching with annoyance, Tracks turned his helm to the seeker.
"Yes, maintenance crew. They were stranded on Earth when the Megatron from my universe attacked their ship, attempting to get the All-Spark. He was going to use it to destroy the Elite Guard and once again take over Cybertron," the Autobot explained. "But I guess Optimus got lucky and both their ships took critical damage; Optimus and his team, along with a broken Megatron, fell into the activated Space bridge and ended up on Earth. Well, from there things got messy, and there was fighting and what not... The Elite Guard, along with the commander Ultra Magnus showed up to retrieve the All-Spark, but Optimus had shattered it to keep it out of Decepticon servos. Well, the Elite Guard wasn't happy to hear about that, I can tell you, and that Sentinel mech -real handsome fella actually; painted deep blue with such a thick chassis. Mmm, mmm, mmm!," Tracks trailed off, swooning slightly.
Coming out of it, he shook his helm, before continuing; totally unaware of the looks of revulsion he was receiving now. "In either case, Sentinel Prime mentioned something or other about Optimus being an Academy wash-out among other things. He was especially insistent on bringing up Optimus' demotion to space bridge maintenance and some sort of dirty past with an Elita-One... Don't have the full scoop on that one yet. The Elite Guard practically has it marked as top-secret. Anyways, yes, so Optimus was kicked out of the Elite Guard before he even fully finished his training and was charged as captain of a team; comprised of those two younglings Bulkhead and Bumblebee, the anti-social Prowl and that grumpy old medic Ratchet. Who by the way is such a naughty medbot. The rusting mech's gone and wrangled himself two very young, exuberant mechs. Jetfire and Jetstorm, if memory serves correct..."
"Not that I'm jealous or anything," Tracks added, tone rising slightly in askance. "But I mean, jets? The twins may be adorable things, but Autobots that can fly? Present self excluded, that's outrageous?! I mean, they have full-on aerial modes -no ground vehicle or nothing? That is, like, blasphemy to the Autobot way of life! Only Decepticons have aerial modes. And another thing-"
"Oh sweet Primus...," Dirge sighed from the back. "He's like another Bluestreak."
"Shut your trap, you over-waxed skidmark!," Wildrider shouted.
Tracks clicked his mouth shut at the insult, crossing his arms over his chassis haughtily. "How rude," he sniffed.
"So...," Megatron mused aloud, totally brushing off everything that had just taken place, aside from the corvette's long-winded gossiping. "Prime is a mere repair 'bot in your universe? How utterly fitting."
"And yet he still manages to defeat you even then, Oh Glorious Leader," Starscream added in snidely, cutting off the gun-former's pleasant daydreams. Snarling angrily, Megatron rose to his pedes, grabbing his second in command as he attempted to flee the wrath of the tyrant.
"Tell me, Autobot," the grey mech said, attention still fixed on the whimpering Starscream; fusion cannon pressed firmly to his chassis. "What about this traitorous, pathetic excuse for a 'bot? Is he still a thorn in my side?"
"Well...," Tracks started slowly, horribly fixated on the choke-hold that Megatron had Starscream in. He just couldn't turn his optics away! "Neither of you are really like the Megatron and Starscream I am familiar with. You are quite old, and a lot more business-like about what you do... Starscream, well, the personality is not so different but the paintjob is. Honestly, I think I prefer your grey and magenta colour scheme better than the one you've got. Though I can definitely live without the immortality bit..."
Megatron looked away from his floundering seeker alarmed. "What was that?"
"Huh? Oh, well, my Starscream is immortal," the corvette supplied. "A shard of the All-Spark fused with his body once you offlined him, and now nothing you do will keep the glitch offline. You know, it gets really annoying how often you beat him into deactivation, and just a klik later he's up and running again; spitting curses the entire way."
The tyrant shuttered his optics at the Autobot, before turning his attention back to Starscream still in his hold.
"S-see...?," the SIC choked, "E-even in a-another world you f-fail to offline m-me!"
Frowning, Megatron threw Starscream to the floor; kicking the jet in the aft and sending him flying off the podium with a surprised yip. Suddenly exhausted, the Warlord collapsed back in his throne. His servo rose to his helm again, rubbing into the plating as his processor-ache flared. "Anybody else?," he asked, almost hesitant.
Tracks shuffled on his pedes nervously. "Well, um, there is no one else that is immortal, if that is what you're referring to. As for soldiers, the ones directly under your command are Blackarachnia, Soundwave, Shockwave, Blitzwing and Lugnut. Starscream, of course, and his clones. Thundercracker: ego-maniac. Skywarp: coward. Slipstream: a very interesting femme. Dirge: Greedy as hell. Thrust: jealous little bugger. Ramjet: a continuous liar, and Sunstorm: an aft-kisser. Oh, and the constructicons, Mixmaster and Scrapper. Both of whom are complete idiots, by the way."
"You have others, I believe," Tracks mused, finger to his lip components in thought. "Not that I've ever seen them though. Otherwise, a couple of your consistent associates would be Lockdown, the bounty hunter, and Swindle, the universal arms dealer. Seriously, I'm glad those two found each other. That Swindle is such a skeeze-ball and Lockdown isn't any better!," the corvette added, cringing with disgust.
Silence reigned for a klik as the Autobot finished once more.
Then...
"I'm an arms dealer?! Cool!"
"A coward?! Are you fragging KIDDING ME?! That's Starscream's bit!"
"HEY! WE'RE NOT IDIOTS!"
"Jealous? Me?! Of WHO?!"
"Why the slag is Swindle the only one mentioned?! What about the rest of us combaticons?"
"CLONES?! I made CLONES of myself and they turned into THOSE FOOLS?!"
The wall of indignant yelling was overwhelming. Tracks clapped his servos about his audios tightly, scowling as the noise just seemed to increase despite his efforts. Megatron was merely trembling in his seat, his barely held control rapidly slipping from his grasp. The doors to the command room at that very moment decided to open, and catching sight of that vaguely familiar paintjob and build from the corner of his optic, Tracks hurriedly turned to the doorway, running to the entering 'bot.
"Soundwave!"
The corvette launched himself at the unsuspecting Decepticon, arms wrapping tightly around neck cables and frame pressing fully onto the other's. If that wasn't bad enough, Tracks pressed one big, fat kiss to the communications officer's mouth guard. Everything suddenly fell silent, all optics turned to the extremely stunned and squirming Soundwave.
"Soundwave...," Megatron growled from his throne. "What is the meaning of this?"
The tapedeck hurriedly pushed Tracks an arm's length away, turning his helm towards his Leader. "Q-query: not what it looks like," the telepath seemed to stutter in that monotone of his.
"Wh-what do you mean: 'not what it looks like?!'," Tracks choked in hurt. His tears were quick to dry when he noticed the difference between this mech and his own Soundwave. Blushing furiously, the corvette hurried to distance himself from the Decepticon.
"I-i'm so sorry!," the Autobot apologized. "I t-thought... I mean, everyone else just looks so different from t-the ones I know in my universe, and... well, slaggit, you both are so similar! Same vocalizer, paintjob, frame, visor... It's very confusing to a 'bot, you know?!" Huffing in embarrassment, Tracks crossed his arms over his chassis again, looking at the floor beneath his pedes.
The silence still had yet to lift.
"B-boss...," Rumble piped up quietly. "You alright?"
"You kissed a Decepticon...," Starscream mumbled in shock. Tracks lifted his helm slightly, glancing at the seeker.
"So?"
"You kissed a Decepticon," the SIC repeated. "You! An Autobot! With a Decepticon? And everyone says I'm glitched!"
"I am not malfunctioning!," Tracks retorted to the implied insult.
Vortex cackled from his corner of the room. "What was it then, huh? Was it 'trooo luuuurve'?"
"What's your point?," the corvette snapped, turning his helm in the direction of the voice. "I doubt you could satisfy anyone, you rusting, fractured piece of trash!"
Before things could escalate any further, suddenly the vid screen in the room flickered on. "Megatron?," Optimus voice drifted through the speaker. "Megatron, can you read me?"
"What is it now, Prime?!," the tyrant roared out, having lost his patience entirely. "Can't you see I'm busy?!"
"Uh, well...," the truck actually hesitated, clearing his intakes uncomfortably. "You see, um, well... Would you happen to have a 'Tracks' there by any chance?"
"Oh, you mean moi?," Tracks piped up, anger and embarrassment gone. The Autobot leader did a double-take on the monitor, shuttering his optics before actually wiping them with a servo. "Sweet Primus...," Optimus mumbled, "There really is another one..."
"Yes, yes," Megatron growled irritably. "There's apparently 'another one'. Now what do you want?!"
"Umm... well..."
Before he could get a word in otherwise, Soundwave -or a mech that looked near identical to him- stepped into view. "Demand: return of Tracks immediately. Reasoning: is of no significance to you."
"Soundwave!," Tracks chirped excitedly again, rushing up to the vid screen. "Oh darling, I missed you so much! I was so terribly worried when we fell through that nasty little hole, and I woke up, surrounded by all these nasty, mean thugs and with you no longer by my side. Are you okay? Have the Autobots done you any harm love? I won't be happy not one bit if they have."
"Negative," the other Soundwave replied. "Action: Tracks will come to the Ark, Autobot base. Will rejoin me. Search for way home in progress."
"A way home? You're speaking in terms of just our universe, aren't you?," Tracks asked. "Do you think those Autobots there can get us all the way back to Cybertron as well? Or, umm, something of a similar nature? I don't want to just go back to that dingy little ship again, orbiting about that filthy organic planet, love. Not that I mind it, I mean... Ooh, Starscream is being just such a fragger again, and I'm astroseconds away from tearing off that over-pompous glitch's wings from his back. Did you know what he did to me the other orn?! He purposely wedged cement in my wing joints! I mean, really, how immature can you get? I was only trying to give him some hints on how to properly maintain oneself..."
"Oh Primus," Hook groaned, "Please, would someone just shut him up!"
"Tracks: presence there an endangerment," Soundwave on the monitor said.
"Really?," the corvette shuttered his optics. "But... they're Decepticons, same as you. They even have some of the same mechs here as they do back home. Surely, there's nothing to fear."
"Fact: they are Decepticons. Explanation: Unnecessary." Soundwave's visor gleamed darkly as he gazed out at the other Decepticons on the Nemesis. "Action: Do not let your guard down."
His warning though had a bit of a different effect on Tracks. The Autobot leaned further on the console, looking up at his bondmate. "Awww... are you worried about me, my love? I'm greatly flattered. But, you know...," Tracks purred sultrily, "I can take care of myself, Big Boy."
Optics shuttered in disbelief all around the room. Blitzwing leaned a little closer to Astrotrain, whispering: "You know... from this angle, that Autobot actually looks quite..."
Astrotrain elbowed him hard in the gut, cutting off anything the other triple-change might have said.
Optimus returned on the screen quickly, trying to regain control of the situation. "Hey," Tracks whined, "Bring my handsome 'bot back!"
"Well, Megatron," the truck asked, completely ignoring the other Autobot. "Will you be merciful enough to release this Autobot back to us or do we-"
"Merciful!? By Unicron's brow, just take the slagging mech!" Megatron cried. "I can't stand to hear anymore of his stupid drivel! It's worse than Starscream's pathetic tirades of leadership!"
"Hey!," yelled the fore-mentioned seeker.
"Well, uh...," Optimus shuttered his optics again stupidly. That had been a lot easier than he had thought. "Right, well, um... bring him to shore and we'll take him from there."
"Whatever!," the tyrant replied flippantly. "Just be quick about it!" Rising to his pedes, Megatron cut the feed, quickly descending from his podium. "Soundwave, since your other half seems to be so beholden to this annoying 'bot, you can have the honours of taking him upstairs and shoving him off the flight deck. Let him swim to shore," the gun-former ordered, heading for the room's door.
"Swim? Wait, did he just say swim?" Tracks turned away from the monitor, looking down-right disturbed. "You mean in like, water? From Earth?"
"What the slag do you think he's talking about, dumbnode?," Rumble questioned.
"No," Tracks shook his helm vehemently. "No, no, no, no, no. No way! I refuse to even touch a drop of the disgusting liquid. All those foul creatures, with their slime and bacteria and grossiness, and those nasty humans with their squishy little organic functions and stuff... No! Nuh-uh! I am not going out there to be among their ...eurgh!" The corvette shivered, flicking his servos about his chassis as if he had something disturbing coating them. "I just hate those organics!"
"...Well," Thundercracker mused aloud, "Guess that answers the question of 'How the slag?'"
