Giddy as the N.E.S.T. base had become since the infamous joke played on Ratchet, I couldn't help but feel as though there was a second shoe ready to drop, as the humans liked to put it.

It felt like an invisible weight, one which wasn't quite heavy enough to be a bother, but was still there. A condescending feeling that pranking Ratchet this latest time would most likely not just pass by as quickly as it had the previous times. The Twins had always had it in for my mentor, but somehow everyone knew this time was different. It wasn't just Sideswipe and Sunstreaker involved this time; it was all of us.

Point was, Ratchet never let a single prank go. The Twins always paid for it. I couldn't help but wonder if the rest of us will suffer the same fate, one way or another.

That wasn't to say the joke was regretful –not in the least. I could still remember my surprise when Prime himself came to the Med Bay, with an incredibly rare glint of mischief in his optics and a datapad extended to me with nothing more than the cryptic explanation of, "I would greatly appreciate your support for this... particular requisition, Jolt."

I had read the requisition. Twice. Laughed out loud. And then I had signed, without a moment's hesitation.

This is completely immature of your Commander, said logically inclined Jolt.

This is completely fragging amazing, said youngling Jolt. Because, yes, I wasn't always as mature as I made myself out to be. I was only a handful of vorns ahead of Bumblebee. I'm allowed some leeway for immaturity, frag it.

Truly, though. Who couldn't pass up the opportunity to help your highly respected, calm, regal Prime let loose and prank his CMO? It's why I appreciated humans for their flaws. Their imperfections bring out the worst in their large, biomechanical allies. It was clear in the requisition that it wasn't Prime's idea to start. I suspected it was borne from a musing conversation with Lennox in a secret meeting that inevitably turned into a mischievous scheme. The Major always had expressed a knack for exposing the Autobots to the exquisitely humorous side of humanity.

I was minutely disrupted from organizing medical files by Ratchet's return to the Med Bay. Whether it was from general formality or from a slight fear of unintentionally irritating him, I took a moment to keep myself in check, from my posture down to my greeting, "Sir."

"Jolt," he didn't even look at me. Instead, I watched my mentor's attention land on a small energon filtering project Ratchet had taken from Wheeljack since, according to him, "I'd rather be locked in a room with Starscream than let Wheeljack risk exploding our entire fragging base. Again."

I had the urge to feel upset. Pranks aside, Ratchet is my mentor, and it is my job to listen and learn and respect him. To some degree, perhaps I'd failed on the last part for deciding to help humiliate Ratchet. But the humor of it was (mostly) gone at this point. Ratchet was irritated at me, predictably, as he was with everyone else. Hesitantly, and truthfully nervous, I decided that I should attempt to alleviate some of the tension.

"Ratchet, sir," I said, venturing towards him but stopping at enough of a distance to dodge a wrench. If it was needed, "I'd like to, uh, apologize for my involvement in the April Fool's joke. In all honestly, I realize it was unfair to you, considering how busy you always are."

Clang. Ratchet dropped something. I noted the slight clench of armor and couldn't determine if that was something positive or negative.

Then Ratchet turned around. There wasn't an ounce of detectable emotion in his face plates, but somehow I had the notion that I was staring at a face that was better at hiding things than Soundwave. Ratchet stared. I fidgeted.

"A-again, sir, I just wanted to –"

"Stop that."

"...Sir?"

"Fragging stop it," he snapped, "The 'sir's. Dear Primus, you're making me nervous just by fragging looking at you."

"Oh. I... apologize?"

Ratchet sighed and rolled his optics, exasperated and even a bit dramatic "By the Allspa- just relax, Jolt? It's over, kid. I'm not going to tear your protoform out through your damn intake."

I couldn't believe what he was hearing. Were my audio receptors glitched? They must be.

Ratchet was just... letting the prank go? Unicron must have been rising again, because Ratchet did not just let things go. He fumed, and snapped, and growled and hissed until enough time had passed for him to move on. I have been his apprentice long enough to see it time and time again. To see Ratchet acting so nonchalant about it was something practically unheard of.

If Ratchet could detect my inner turmoil, he said nothing about it. He waved me over, as if everything was perfectly fine. I was almost completely convinced that someone killed Ratchet and replaced him without anyone noticing. What the actual frag was happening?

"Come help me with this, would you?" he said, turning back around.

I was confused, but I complied.

Ratchet shuffled aside, allowing me access to the filtering invention. It looked nearly complete, which would greatly benefit us. N.E.S.T. had found a few energon deposits in caves around the globe, but the lack of Cybertronian tech resulted in the Autobots having to consume mostly unclean energon. Very unhealthy, as it could cause tank disruption. We'd already dealt with that enough, since the Wreckers had once decided it was a fantastic idea to have a competition on who could stand drinking contaminated energon the most.

Ratchet was furious, of course.

But one had to admit, it was amusing to watch four grown mechs purge and hack in the washracks.

I wasn't sure what Ratchet needed of me. I had little to no skill when it came to inventing or engineering. Ratchet must have noticed my confusion, because he explained.

"Fragging thing won't turn on, is all."

I caught on right away, "Oh... would you like me to jumpstart it, sir?"

"Preferably, yes."

I nodded. Ratchet guided me to the places in which he wanted me to apply a shock. I placed my digits to the appropriate places and shuttered my optics so that I could properly harness the electrical power flowing from within. Funny, how my ability would have been feared on our home planet. Here, however, mechs and femmes like me had become immeasurably valuable. We were rare. Blurr and Mirage were the only other Autobots like me.

If there was one thing I could be appreciative of when it came to my relationship with my mentor, it was Ratchet's ready acceptance to take me in despite me being an Outlier. It was something I had to hide for vorns at home, but something I finally felt he could be proud of here. I had Ratchet to thank for it. Grumpy and scary and angry as he could be, I knew I was among the very few to see a bit of a parental instinct within Ratchet, evident from his encouragement that I was unique, not different, and that my power was something special, not abominable.

With a careful precision I had mastered from a lot of practice, I shocked the machine with what I deemed was the appropriate amount of voltage. It stuttered, sparked, and then hummed to life.

Ratchet gripped my shoulder plate in silent thanks. For a moment I felt that the initial tension in the Med Bay was finally gone.

"Thank you, Jolt."

I smiled, "You're welcome, sir."


I caught Ratchet fiddling with our Med Bay codepad a day later.

I wasn't sure what to make of it. Ratchet was not generally the mech on base with the technical touch. But I stood there quietly while I watched my mentor manipulate the wiring behind the codepad with a vigor that was entirely odd to see in the CMO.

"Ahem... sir?"

Ratchet did something he rarely did.

He jumped.

Startling Ratchet was rare. And dangerous. Last time it happened, Mirage had gotten a wrench lodged in a very uncomfortable place.

"Jolt!" he said, as if he somehow hadn't been expecting me. He slapped the codepad shut and peered down at me.

"Apologies, sir, but... what are you doing?"

"Fixing the codepad," he said a little quickly, "You know how it malfunctions sometimes."

No, I didn't. The codepad never had any issues before as far as I knew.

"Oh," I said, "Okay."

I decided not to give Ratchet's unusual antic a second thought.

If only I had.


"I've got to go find Major Lennox," Ratchet told me, a datapad in hand.

I looked up from organizing some medical tools, "Very well, sir."

"I'll be back," he walked to the door. Stopped. He looked back at me, with a peculiar expression that looked entirely foreign on him, "Test run the energon filter for me, will you? I've been meaning to do it-"

I nodded, "I can do that for you, sir."

Ratchet nodded, still upholding that somewhat amused expression, and then left the Med Bay. I finished my task at hand before I turned my attention to the energon filter. With careful servos I tried turning it on -only for the device to do nothing.

I hesitated for a moment, then tried another few times to get it to work. When it still refused to work, I sighed and decided on starting the filter in a different way.

With a careful measure of charge, I touched the device and lit it up with a mild current. It sparked, then came to life in a low hum. I internally mused that it would definitely require some more tinkering, but at least I had gotten it to work. I was just about to notify Ratchet when the low hum of the filter steadily began to grow louder. I stared at it, warily.

The device exploded.

I had to duck to avoid losing my optics to a sharp scrap of material. Lowering my arms, I was greeted with the sight of a steaming, cackling pile of meal and wires that would have been our energon filter.

I gaped for a very long time. It took a considerable amount of willpower for me to ping my mentor.

::Ratchet, sir? I... have a situation.::

A sigh, ::What is it, Jolt.::

::I attempted to... start the energon filter. It would not turn on normally so I tried to jumpstart it again...::

::And?::

::And... it exploded.::

Ratchet was quiet for an agonizing minute.

I shrank, ::Ratchet, sir, I'm so sorry –::

::How much fragging voltage did you use, Jolt?!::

::N-not near enough to cause an explosion, sir, I swear!::

Ratchet grew quiet again, like he was contemplating how much trouble he'd get into for strangling his apprentice.

For a moment, I wondered how much trouble I'd get into for attempting to flee the base.

::Well,:: Ratchet's voice was positively dripping with sarcastic ridicule, ::Looks like we're going to have to file a report for a destroyed energon filter that –might I add– took Wheeljack months to develop. Since you're so exceptional at forwarding messages, Jolt, would you be so kind as to fill that out for me?::

I had to wince. Ratchet was making a jab at me so readily handing his mentor the embarrassing requisition not too long ago. I knew not to take his remark personal –Ratchet was still bitter about it and I didn't have it in me to fault him for it. Nearly the entire base had pitched in against Ratchet that night, after all.

::Of course, sir,:: I answered, with a respectful nod. ::I will do that...::

Ratchet hummed on the other line. I wasn't sure what it was, but he sounded strangely thoughtful for an angry CMO whose project I'd just destroyed.

I truly was not looking forward to the conference on this mess. The last time I had to attend an A&HR meeting was when I'd accidentally electrocuted everyone in the washracks. As it would seem, trying to jump start the shower head when it wasn't working was less of a problem solver and more of an opportunity for Morshower to yell at me like I was an incompetent youngling.

In short, if Morshower requested you, you were in some deep slag. He was about as dreadful to face as Megatron.

I had a hunch that Ratchet knew that this was his chance to return the humiliation he'd suffered prior. For a moment I just stood there, dreading the inevitable demise of my dignity that usually came with walking into an A&HR meeting whenever Morshower was involved.

That was generally how it went. All mishaps were to be recorded and forwarded to our superiors, wherein they'd determine whether or not they want to address it or leave it up to the base commanders to discipline the Autobots and humans involved. Morshower was graced with the presence of a naughty Autobot usually when it was something of a more serious incident.

Such as me accidentally frying everyone in the washracks.

Or the Twins painting Ironhide pink in his recharge.

Or Jazz blasting rap on the speakers.

Smokescreen cannonballing into the ocean.

Mirage escaping his time in the brig.

You get the idea.

Silently, I decided I should take initiative.

::Jolt to Prime.::

It took a moment, but the wary tone in Prime's internal voice when he answered made me realize he was probably wondering if he'd survive Day 1 after the prank.

::This is Prime. What have you wished to contact me about, Jolt?::

Something told me he already knew I was in trouble.

::Ah, well... I wanted to forewarn you that I will be bringing a file to you regarding the... unfortunate malfunction of our energon filtering project.::

::It malfunctioned?::

::Yes, sir.::

::How so?::

Fraggit. Of course he had to ask.

::I... exploded it, sir.::

Silence. I was briefly distracted by the destroyed filter sparking threateningly. I kept myself braced for any residual and potentially devastating malfunctions, considering that it was Wheeljack's invention. In that time, Prime had formulated a response.

::I see. Thank you for telling me, Jolt. I will await your delivery of the file.::

I paused. ::You aren't upset at me, sir?::

::Certainly not. I am well aware that accidents happen, young one. We have suffered losses far worse than an energon filter. And... in all honesty, I simply cannot fault you for something that came from Wheeljack's lab.::

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. ::Thank you, Prime. Ratchet had not taken the information quite as well.::

::As I would expect. I don't believe Ratchet is willing to take any information with a positive attitude, as of late...:: Prime's internal voice faltered. It made me realize that as amusing as the prank must have been for him, our leader still retained his humbleness in the form of slight guilt that he'd all but ruined our CMO's mood for the next year. Or two.

It took half a joor, but I'd filled out a datapad detailing the incident and was on my way to my leader's office when I came across a rather arduous predicament. One which brought forth an instant level of suspicion the more I pounded on the codepad. I was stuck. In the Med Bay.

I wasn't sure which was worse; that I was locked in, or Ratchet was locked out. My mentor being unable to find solace in his beloved Med Bay was about as comparable to letting an angry Predacon loose to the rest of the base. Not a necessarily good time for anyone.

But a certain and rather incredulous memory drove me to ping Ratchet, this time with less apprehension and more subtle annoyance. ::Ratchet, sir.::

::Yes, Jolt?:: he responded in a nearly sing-song tone. At this point I was 89.09% sure he was expecting this.

::...The Med Bay codepad is broken.::

::Oh. That's a shame.::

::Sir, I can't get out...::

::Huh. You know, I could have sworn I fixed the damn thing.:: Ratchet rattled on, as if my situation was simply muted to him entirely. I could feel my digits digging into the datapad I was holding as it became abundantly clear what exactly was going on.

::You weren't fixing the codepad that day, were you, sir?::

Ratchet's cackle could have put Starscream to shame.

::Sir, please! If you don't help me get out, I can't-::

::Sorry, kiddo. Kind of busy right now.::

::Doing what, laughing at me through the camera feed with Lennox?::

::Mm. Tempting, but no.:: Ratchet is evidently far too amused with the situation to mind my flare of attitude. I was getting so frustrated that I could feel sparks escaping my digits. I'd never fried a datapad before but I was getting awfully close.

::Where are you, then?::

::Oh, you know, tinkering with the energon filter with Wheeljack. Don't worry, we've gotten it to start up properly.:: If that was truly where he was, I could just see Wheeljack's look of confusion. Ratchet was probably grinning like a Sharkticon. I gave the smoking pieces on the table behind me a nasty leer.

A dud. A dud. Of fragging course.

::Ratchet, you do realize I'd already contacted Prime and told him the filter was broken.::

::Sounds like something you should go and fix.::

::I can't get out!::

::Sure you can. I'm sure a little jumpstart will do the trick.:: I didn't like the way he emphasized that word. Ratchet knew that my luck with jumpstarting anything was considerably low, if past experience was something to go by.

I ran my servo over my face. ::I'm not going to do that, sir.::

::Then I guess you'll be staying in there until I deem you've learned your lesson on signing things you shouldn't sign.::

Ah, yes. There it was. As I'd so adamantly claimed before, Ratchet never let a prank go. Ever. I should have seen this coming. For a fleeting moment I quickly realized if even I wasn't safe from Ratchet's wrath, then absolutely no one was.

::I heard Diego Garcia's beaches are quite nice.::

::Ratchet, don't do this to me.::

::I think I'll head there.::

::Sir, I'm begging you-::

He cut the link. I fried the datapad.

Jumpstart, huh? I tossed the now useless datapad to the side and harnessed a small charge to my left servo. Just once. Once shouldn't hurt. I hesitated only for a short moment before I vented and touched the codepad. It sparked in response, giving me the impression that, for once, my electricity made something work.

Then the lights went out. My spark dropped as I stood there in darkness.

Of course, I should have expected that Ratchet did some rewiring, too. I spent a considerable amount of time pacing in the dark and unsuccessfully contacting a mentor who's deliberately ignoring me, when I recieved an unexpected ping from someone else.

::...Sideswipe?::

::Dude.:: Sideswipe said. ::You're so fragged.::

::What?::

::Good luck with Morshower on this one, bro.:: He laughed, and then he disconnected.

My next ping was from Prime. I was genuinely afraid to answer him.

::Prime, sir?::

::Jolt...:: My leader paused, like he was scrabbling for an easy way to tell me that I was going to die in a cycle or so. Which was entirely possible, if I really was seeing Morshower again. ::Have you... utilized your electrical abilities recently?::

::Honestly, sir, more than I'm probably supposed to.::

::So I've been made aware... as well as everyone else on this base.::

I hesitated, confused. ::Come again, sir?::

::We will have to discuss your use of your power, young one. This... is getting out of hand.::

::I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. I... did accidentally short out the Med Bay, but-::

Optimus's next statement had me realizing just how much trouble I was about to be in.

::Jolt... you did not just short out the Med Bay. You shorted out the entire base.::