Counterfeit

Chapter 2: Clean Slate

By: Mooncrossed

I apologize for the late update. A combination of family issues, the holidays, and a massive computer glitch are responsible for this chapter not getting out on time. I'll try to stay on schedule in the future. Many thanks go out to Writergurl616 for her review (Yeah, Swindle is sort of predictable that way. Glad you're enjoying the story), kitty1994 (Wow! You had that kind of reaction? Thanks), Pumpkin Guardian (Grins. Yep, Bumblebee can be quite the chatterbox. Thanks for the compliment), Hawkgirl230 (Thanks! It's great that Swindle has another fan), and to 16 Silvermoon 16 (I'm trying. Keeping my fingers crossed that this chapter will go through.)

I don't own Transformers, Mega-Coco-Bomb Cereal (Just in case it exists), The Princess Bride, Romeo and Juliet, Shiny Colors (In case that play also exists), Ninja Turtles, Pink Panther, Star Wars, or Paul Bunyan. All the characters in this story are fictional. None of the Transformers based characters belong to me, however, I do own Cassidy and her various friends and acquaintances. Please ask permission before using them. This chapter was incredibly hard to type, but, with a lot of prayer and my parents editing, it is finally ready.

In the Autobot base…

Venting out a harsh sigh, Optimus at last sat back. His spinal struts ached in protest at the movement and he longed for his old comfortable adamantium chair from back home. Now that was luxury! This seat was made up out of a mixture of concrete and steel, the cheapest and most durable products they could find on this world. Looking down at the monthly report resting on his desk, he debated on what to add next. Agent Simmons had requested that he compile a rough outline concerning how well Cassidy was adjusting to living on the base with them… He just hadn't expected her to get dragged into his office on the very first orn.

Sari and Bumblebee, those two were in trouble often enough that he'd barely raised an optic ridge when they were escorted into his office. The fact that Cassidy had arrived right after them had been a shock to his CPU. Nonetheless, he had done his best to admonish the trio on responsibility. What if a Decepticon had attacked? They could have left the remains of a space barnacle infestation in the base. Irresponsible! In return, Bumblebee had whined, Sari had given him a sad eyed expression of pleading, and Cassidy… She just impatiently stood there with a pair of paper sacks crowding her arms. Her lack of expression, emphasized by her oversized sunglasses gave her a creepy, almost spark-less quality. When he had inquired what it was she was holding, she had called them groceries, whatever those were. He made an addendum to look up the strange foreign word later.

The Prime tried to remind himself that she had been through a lot, first by getting kidnapped by a Decepticon, then when she was held hostage for three days. An experience like that would inspire a level of distrust in anyone, let alone a youngling. Making a vow that he would try to show her the positive side of his species, he studied the report again. Then a slight smile quirked up. At least Bumblebee was making some headway at befriending her…

At that exact moment…

After engaging in a fierce haggling contest with Bumblebee in which she managed to exact the promise that not only would he clean the mini-fridge, but he would also build a temporary human sized kitchen table, Cass set to work. The top and front of the old electric stove was covered in fried attack mold! Grumbling to herself, she began scrubbing. Trying to keep a positive attitude, Cassidy reflected, 'At least I remembered to get sunglasses.' Pushing them further up her nose to guard her eyes from the insanely bright florescent lights, she resolutely continued to clean. Sari tackled the filth encrusted floor with an old mop.

Once the stove and surrounding countertops were slime free, she set her brand new cast iron skillet down and turned on the electric stove. Considering the state of this kitchen, she'd decided to go with the bare essentials. Plastic measuring cups (the cheapest of course), one mixing spoon, a spatula, some throw away plastic eating utensils (again, the lowest price), and one mixing bowl. Five cans of condensed soup rested on the counter, the best solution to a budget meal that she could find.

Getting out the proper amount of pancake mix and cracking the required amount of eggs, Cass then added the milk… which was warm from being out too long. Ugh! Vice Principle Martinez gave longwinded speeches were nothing compared to the robot in charge of the base. Telling herself to buy powdered milk from now on, the brunet began stirring together the ingredients… only to pause. Was it just her, or had something let out a metallic groan? Cassidy glanced at the big yellow Autobot currently trying to piece together a table using piles of concrete blocks and cardboard. Since he was talking to himself, Cass decided that he must have been the one that had groaned. Turning, the teen began ladling out the pancakes so they could start frying. Another groan sounded. She flinched at the noise and looked around. Neither Bumblebee, nor Sari had seemed to notice it. "Weird," she mumbled, even as she flipped the more cooked ones over. No-one noticed how the vending machine had now moved three inches closer to the trio.

Now Sari was arguing that cardboard wouldn't be strong enough for a tabletop. Bumblebee argued that his table was perfect, they just had to be careful. Feeling another headache coming on as their voices reached an angry crescendo, Cassidy pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. Sweat beaded her forehead as she concentrated on cooking. 'Maybe the kid will quiet down if her mouth is full,' the brunet hopefully speculated. 'Hey, it's a goal! Then, all I have to do is figure out something that will shut up the motor mouth…' Unknown to any of them, the vending machine had moved even closer, and blackened tentacles had begun to writhe around the edges. "Bumbles," she interrupted loudly. (And she'd quit calling him that when he stopped calling her 'Cassie.') Ignoring his annoyed look, she continued, "Why don't yah just rip the door off of the room next door? That's sturdy enough."

"I don't need to get anything else, Cassie," Bumblebee insisted, while glaring at her for calling him by that oh-so-hated nickname, yet again. And why does she keep doing that, the Autobot wondered. Probably because her memory is faulty. I'll just remind her more often. He placed a disposable plate on it's cardboard surface proudly. "This is good enough for an organic's table. Why, nothing could possibly destroy this-" That's when a rampaging snack food dispenser launched itself with crater inducing force right into the middle of the table with a metallic roar. Concrete blocks and plastic tableware flew into the air, tentacles writhed wildly, and Sari screamed high enough to make ears bleed. Bee's cardboard furniture didn't stand a chance.

As intelligence levels went, the space barnacle was around the lower end of the spectrum. It's main thoughts, if one could call them that, were, "See food," and, "Eat food." Meals consisted of organics (a somewhat mushy treat), and any machinery it could reasonably attach itself to (great minerals and a healthy source of energy.) This was the way it and billions of it's ancestors had operated for centuries. They had even developed a kind of borrowed method of locomotion from their mechanical prey, controlling their movements and using their sensors to hunt for more victims. Except, now it was confused. What limited information this machine was transmitting said that there was a big bulk of possible victims over here… Yet all it's dirt encrusted tentacles could find were rocks. The zombie operated vending machine fumbled around in an awkward sort of way. Rocks, bits of cardboard, more rocks… FIRE! With a keening screech, it flipped over on it's side and writhed in sudden agony.

"See, Cass? I've got everything handled," Bumblebee boasted. Hefting his makeshift torch, Bumblebee grinned proudly. The demolished remains of a kitchen cabinet gave a silent testament as to where he had gotten the wood to make his weapon. Casually turning off the still lit stovetop burner, Cassidy rolled her eyes. Both girls eyed the writhing alien on the floor and tried to stay as far away from it as they could. "Even space barnacles are no match for me," he continued snootily. "From now on, you can just call me Mr. Resourceful!"

Abruptly screeching, the vending machine sprang back to life. Bumblebee yelled in terror and dove for cover. Hopping up on it's multiple tentacles, the snack food dispenser rose to it's full majestic height of five and a half feet, and took off out of the kitchen. Dead silence filled the room. Cassidy cautiously uncurled from the hunched over protective stance she had fallen into, noting with relief that Sari seemed to be okay. The nine year old was in a similar stance, her hands over the back of her neck and her knees curled up into her chest. 'Bee blinked from behind the refrigerator he was using as a shield. As one, the three of them slowly approached the brightly lit entrance.

First, Bumblebee crept out with his flaming piece of cabinetry, then Cassidy stepped after him with a length of smoldering cardboard, and finally Sari followed with a singed paper plate. The three warily looked around. A Cybertronian sized giant concrete couch, an equally humongous coffee table of the same material, a large plasma television, and an old assembly plant conveyer belt was all that could be seen. Silence weighed heavily on the room. His optics bright with worry, 'Bee raced up to the nearest hallway and peered down the corridor. Not finding any vending machines, he sped up to the next cavernous doorway, and the next, and the next. He slumped as his final scan came up empty and slowly trudged back to the two humans. After a long moment, the Autobot shrugged and offered an embarrassed grin. Sheepishly, he shrugged and mumbled, "Oops."

Two hours later, Cassidy decided to drop the matter. So what if a possessed vending machine was wandering the empty corridors of the Autobot base. The chances of running into it again in a building this large were in the trillions, right? Yeah… Cassidy puzzled over the oddities in her life and reaffirmed her vow to be out of alien central before the week was out. Right now, she had other things to occupy her time.

Staring at the instructions for the thousandth time, Cass was unknowingly doing her best chimpanzee impression. She couldn't help it. Before her loomed a simple unassuming clothes washer, it's boxlike form menacingly waiting. Right next to her was a pile of unwashed laundry that was almost as big as she was, not that it was saying much. Cassidy sighed, wishing she was a few inches taller, before she sighed and tried to ignore it. 'Okay, I've already added the soap, I've got the first load in there, so how do I turn it on?' Focusing back on the dial, she nibbled her lower lip and stared at the unassuming machine resting comfortably in front of her. Could anyone blame her? The last time she'd used one of these things, the basement had flooded with boiling hot water. And the time before that, it had belched bubbles for three hours before at last expiring with a pathetic groan, never to work again.

"Maybe I could use the old-fashioned washboard technique," she mumbled thoughtfully. Glancing sideways at the mound of unwashed garments, she grimaced. "Nah, too torturous." At last, wincing in anticipation, the brunet reached out and turned one knob until it was set on cold. Hoping she was doing it right, she rotated the other dial and pulled. Water obediently began pouring into the tub. "Yes," she congratulated herself with a wicked grin. "Now all I have to do is… Uh, oh…"

Swallowing hard, she looked at the broken knob in her hand. The blunt piece of metal it had been attached to gleamed in forlorn abandonment in front of her. Hastily fumbling, she attempting to reattach it before anyone noticed it's absence only to cringe at an abrupt scalding splash. Cassidy looked down into the churning froth filled water in front of her. Somewhere in that roiling mass of clothes was a washing-machine dial… and hadn't she put it on 'Cold' instead of 'Hot?' Cautiously closing the awakening beast's lid, she carefully backed away before running as fast as her sneakers could carry her. It might turn out okay, but just in case the whole freaking mess decided to explode, she wanted to be as far away from the epicenter as possible!

Meanwhile…

Deep beneath the Autobot base, an excavation was underway. Service drones walked here and there carrying equipment, earth was scooped up in massive claws and removed, while others laid concrete over finished work. Surveying the operation per Megatron's orders, Soundwave stood stoically silent. He was taller than the average Decepticon with a face that rarely showed the slightest hint of emotion. In fact, rumor had it that he was spark-less. "Mission log," he droned while gazing around the blackened room, "Operation is on schedule… Workers: obedient…" Looking up at the ceiling toward Optimus Prime's base of operations, he accessed the cameras he'd hidden within. Immediate images of Autobots sleeping, working, meditating and watching television flashed past his optics. "Autobots: Unaware."

Closing off his data record, he resumed his observations, only to stop. A small drop of water landed upon the dusty earth, then another, and still more. Analyzing the liquid, he concluded that it was a mixture of H2O, lime, and trace elements of chemical deposits in the soil, before focusing upwards once more. Hundreds of rooms yet again flashed before his visor, most of them empty. He zeroed in on one in particular and magnified the image. In a far off corner was a small organically constructed machine, and it appeared to be malfunctioning, judging by the water streaming unchecked from it's box-like form. Further investigation proved that it was completely unattended. At the questioning glances he was receiving from some of the slightly more sentient workers, he commanded, "Continue."

In other news…

"Oh, my God," Sari exclaimed, slamming into Cassidy's bedroom at breakneck speed. The red-head barely screeched to a halt before she could collide with a pile of cardboard boxes. "Woah, those weren't there before!" Focusing on the girl she'd come to visit, she grinned and skated over to her. It was just so cool to have another kid on the base. She could be just like an older sister to her. They could do all sorts of sisterly activities, like play board games, and stay up until three in the morning, and talk about boys… Blinking in surprise, she watched the older girl remove a broadsword from her duffle-bag and place it next to her throwing-knife set. 'Okay,' she mused, 'So, maybe not so much with the girly gossip, but we could still hang out.' Attempting to warm up to her, she chirped, "So, whatcha doing?"

"Unpacking," Cassidy replied, not even bothering to glance up. Aside from her initial jump at the intrusion of the nine year old hurricane, the teenager remained as cool as a cucumber. She had a tough reputation to maintain, after all. Sneakily, she pulled the blanket up over a snoozing pair of alien house-pets. Don't get her wrong, the kid would probably get along great with the fruppy and the living dress… she just wasn't so sure about the big metal behemoths wandering around the base. So, until she was certain about their safety, she was keeping them out of sight. Hoisting out her Biology book, the heaviest burden in her academic career, she proceeded to flip through it carefully. It would be just like those government geeks to put a spy-device in there and make it even heavier. Simmons would have probably deliberately done it, hoping it would give her a hernia. Glancing over at the nine-year old invader and noticing the brown stains all over her cloths, she commented, "Yah had candy bars for breakfast again, didn't yah?"

"No," Sari protested defensively. Practically vibrating on her roller blades, she tap danced from one wheeled foot to the other as she looked here, there, and everywhere. "I had Mega-Coco-Bomb cereal, it's not the same thing! This place is boring! Where I can I find some purple paint? Do you like cheese? How old are you, again? Can I help you unpack?"

"Knock yourself out," Cassidy replied to the question on the end of that litany, deciding to ignore all the others. She doubted the kid remembered asking them, anyway. Sighing, she at last set the book aside, resolving to look at it later. Then she scooped out the next layer of belongings. It was paper, all rolled up into individual tubes and stacked neatly side by side. Selecting one tube and some thumbtacks, the brunet wandered over to the nearest wall. As the picture unfurled, Sari caught her breath in amazement. Reminiscent of a fancy stained glass window, the image of a gorgeous medieval princess in the arms of a handsome pirate became visible. 'The Princess Bride,' was written in flowing old-fashioned script. In smaller letters down below were the words, 'A Detroit High School Production.'

"Cool," Sari breathed, overcome with girlish wonder. Eagerly, she gazed down at the rest of the rolled up play-bills like a kid confronting a pile of Christmas presents. She hesitated for an instant, worried she might be overstepping her bounds by snooping. Then she shrugged it off. 'Well,' the nine year old mused. 'Cass didn't say I shouldn't look, and that's the same as saying yes. Besides, it's helping.' Reaching out, she unfastened the nearest poster and carefully pealed it open. "Woah, did you act in this?"

On a return trip to retrieve another playbill, Cassidy glanced over her shoulder. The picture was a color photograph image of a reclining blond in a flowing dress. Kneeling reverently before her was a handsome young man in a suit of armor. 'Romeo and Juliet,' the poster proudly announced. "No, thank God," Cassidy drawled, rolling her eyes. Noting the Coco Bomb cereal stained handprints being smeared across the image by sticky little kid fingers, but not caring, the brunet headed in a new direction with her next picture. "For you're information, I hate that play. Mercutio was the only good character, and he got kacked in the first half. All I had to do were props and lighting."

"Huh," Sari commented noncommittally, having already forgotten what they'd been talking about. Abandoning the Shakespeare play, she reached for the next roll of paper. "What did you play in the Princess Bride?"

"One of the RUS's," she absently answered. That had been an embarrassing fiasco. At first, she'd been cast as the lead character, not that it had lasted long. Something about her portraying the character 'Buttercup' too aggressively. Instead, it was decided that her small size and 'high energy' made her perfect for playing an RUS (Rodent of unusual size), in other words, an evil giant rat. Cass mentally shrugged before stepping back to consider her work. The latest poster she'd put up was pitch black from top to bottom with color swirls and blinding spotlight images like one would see from up close headlights. Written in little kid simple white chalk, the words "Shiny Colors" was doodled across the page. That had been a fun play to write. It had been about a group of kids suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder, and the audience got to see it all from their point of view.

Sari's nose wrinkled as she tried to imagine Cassidy in a giant rat costume, then she gave up. Imagining it was just too weird. Selecting the next image in the pile, she carefully began to unroll it and her mouth dropped open. A beautiful girl in tattered finery danced in the moonlight amidst ancient castle ruins. Intrigued, she peeled back the rest of the image, only to squeak in fright. The poster toppled back to the bed out of her listless fingers. Her heart pounding, she picked up the tube again and looked at it. Surrounding the dancing girl in macabre glee were zombies, werewolves, ghosts, and fanged ghouls. With frightful pride, the words 'High Spirits' were scrawled across the bottom. Feeling disgusted, she inquired, "What were you in this?"

"What?" Cass glanced back after hanging up her fourth poster. She was making good time, and for once, she would be able to display all of her playbills simultaneously. It seemed that having a huge empty warehouse for a bedroom was going to come in handy, after all. So far, she had last years 'Pink Panther' theatre advertisement, and this year's spring production 'Star War's: the musical.' Looking back at the bossy nine year old blankly, it took her a moment to recognize the poster she was pointing at. "Oh, that's the horror-comedy we put on last autumn. Iris and I found this really hokey movie from about seventy years ago and decided to adapt it for the stage. I'm the third zombie on the bottom left-hand corner. The one holding a severed leg." Coming back to the bed turned desk, she scooped up another ten or so rolls and several dozen tacks, then returned to her decorating.

"Um, no offense," Sari began, "But I've had to deal with enough zombies to last a lifetime." Putting down the 'funny' poster, Sari turned to less disgusting pursuits, like snooping. The redhead carefully unrolled the leather bundle Cassidy had set aside. Her dark eyes widening with surprise. They were knives, rows and rows of them, each one polished to a high gleam and graded by color as to how sharp they were. After a moment of shocked silence, a smile spread across her face. "Cool… Hey, Cass, could you teach me how to use these?"

"Use what?" In the middle of hanging a poster that was nearly as tall as she was, it took the brunet a moment to see what Sari was talking about. When she did, her eyebrows climbed up her forehead in disbelief. "You're serious? Most people tend to freak out when they see my throwing-knife set." She scowled as one stubborn corner of the poster flopped down over her head like a loose curtain, the tack clinking to the ground next to her. Scooping it up, she turned to confront the disobedient playbill, which advertised a stage production of 'Ninja Turtles.' Carefully flattening the image out, she estimated the distance and performed a basketball jump. The tack slammed home into the plaster and she grinned. That had been a fun play to put on, she was 'Evil Henchman number five.'

She would have said more if a voice hadn't bellowed loudly enough to topple over a few boxes with one word… (Well, it was a name, actually.) "SARI!" Both the brunet and the redhead flinched at the voice that sounded like a bad phone connection amplified a thousand times higher than normal. Blinking away tears at the sonic abuse, Cassidy remembered yet again, that she really needed to get earplugs.

Looking a combination of worried and annoyed, the girl in question skated over to the doorway. "WHAT," Sari shrieked back, equally loudly. She gave an apologetic glance back at the teenager clutching her ears in a state of agony. Just for good measure, she added in a lower voice, "And whatever it is, I didn't do it." The red-headed girl swallowed hard when she was confronted with a pair of robotic feet that rivaled Paul Bunyan's. Crossing her arms, she scowled up at the Cybertronian that owned them.

Optimus Prime didn't look in any way perturbed by Sari's attitude. In fact, he looked downright annoyed. He did notice how the new organic was rubbing her ears with an unmistakable pained expression, though. A sigh heaved out of his vents, and kneeling down until he was at eye level with the small pig-tailed girl, he addressed the child with a softer voice. "Sari, there is a huge mess out there, and all the evidence points to you," the leader of the Autobot contingent explained. "Now, I'm only going to ask this once: What did you do to the washing machine?"

Cass stiffened. She realized that there was the very faint, yet unmistakable, gurgling sound of water coming from outside her room. Biting her lip in indecision, the brunet debated over going to investigate… or finding a deep hole to hide in until this all blew over. On one hand, if Swindle's ideas of punishment were anything to go by for his entire species, she was in for an embarrassingly painful ordeal if they found out. 'Not that I can't take it,' the teenager scoffed to herself. As kidnappers went, the huckster was a complete joke. It almost embarrassed her that it had taken her so long to escape his, snicker, "EVIL" clutches. 'Yeah right, stick to the sale's floor buddy and stay out of my life.' Of course, if she didn't speak up about the washing machine, Sari would take the blame. Decisions, decisions. The pair didn't seem to notice as she quietly slipped out of the warehouse sized room with an expression of dread on her features.

Meanwhile, Sari's expression became even stormier. "I didn't use my key on the washing machine," she declared, putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at Optimus. The key in question was an odd, almost ornamental device hanging like a necklace around her neck. It used to be a simple computer key card, until the All-spark, an almost mystical Cybertronian holy object, zapped it. Looking like a weird combination of skeleton key and computer chip, it could repair or malfunction machinery like a charm. She brightened as a new idea came to her. "Maybe it broke on it's own? Then I could use my key to repair it…"

"It's not a toy," Optimus reiterated for what felt like the thousandth time. Actually, it was only the fifty-fourth repetition of the rule, he thought, before shaking his head. Obviously, he was hanging around Prowl a little too much. Deepening his optics to a special shade of midnight blue in honest concern, he continued, "I just might have to take it away from you again if you can't use it responsibly." At her whining complaint, he was about to continue with a speech about the expectations of adulthood, what a proper member of the team was supposed to do… But someone interrupted him.

"Not again," Cassidy yelled distantly from the rec-room, sounding frustrated and alarmed. Hearing this, Optimus straightened, instantly battle ready. Standing up straight, he turned and raced out the door after the sound with Sari hot on his robotic heals. The sight he came across, however, was not what he expected. Belching out bubbles and shuddering violently, the washing machine was severely malfunctioning. This, while distressing, was something Optimus already knew about. Unfortunately, it was also now launching clothing. Shirts littered the floor and nearby walls, organic undergarments stuck to the distant ceiling and concrete furniture. A miniscule pair of human pants flew through the air and smacked wetly against his metal faceplates with a soapy smack.

Cassidy was doing her level best to fight this unexpected mechanical monster, wading her way through waist high soap suds and waving a broom around wildly every time it fired off another round. Sari blinked in wide eyed amazement, having never seen anything so… "Cool," she said out loud, a wide smile slowly growing over her dusky features.

"Hardly," Optimus drawled, having heard her even over the excess noise. Slowly, he peeled the blue denim garment off of his olfactory sensor. The perfect soapy imprint of a human-sized pair of jeans remained behind, with either pants leg outstretched above his mouth. He now appeared to have a white mustache. Raising his vocals, he tried to reason with chaos. "Cassidy, leave it alone! We'll handle it, so just…"

"Hey, I know what to do," Sari exclaimed, holding her key aloft. She darted into the foam before Optimus could catch her. Unable to see where she went, the Cybertronian let out a guttural Cybertronian curse and quickly switched to infra-red. After a moment to orient himself, he identified what had to be Cassidy, fighting a loosing battle against technology… Sari, reaching out with her All-spark enhanced key for the washing machines control panel… and an overloading primitive circuit board. His optics a bright white in dawning panic, the Autobot leader dove to protectively shield them just as the machine burst apart in a sudden fiery explosion.

For a long moment, silence reigned, broken only by the plop, plop, plop, of dripping soap suds. Slowly, his back coated in thick white soap suds, Prime rose to his full height. Blinking the two girls stood frozen in a state of shock. Cassidy held a broken broom with a rumpled red tee-shirt plastered her head. She blinked, trying to wrap her mind around this change of affairs. Sari, meanwhile, was decorated in enough foam to look like a marshmallow. This was the sight that greeted Bumblebee and Ratchet when they rushed into the rec-room in a state of high alert. Venting hard from the unexpected sprint across the base, the scout and medic stared in disbelieving wonder. The victims looked like nothing less than a trio of snowmen all dressed up for the Christmas season. In surprise, they stared back. Ratchet immediately began scanning for any injuries, all the while shaking his massive head and muttering that at least they were clean.

It was Bumblebee who finally broke the silence. Falling on his aft, his systems seizing up in paroxysms of laughter, he vented long and hard. At last, he gasped out loud, "What the frag?" Bee chortled again, loudly, at the sight of a sock and two pairs of underwear suction fused to the flat-screen television. Then he turned a watery gaze toward his leader and the only two organics living on base. "What happened in here?"

"Mind your language around the younglings," Prowl admonished, emerging from the shadows once he'd thoroughly scanned the surrounding area for intruders. Finding none, he cautiously stepped into the epicenter of the disaster with an expression of polite distaste on his faceplates. "Although, I do find myself wondering about the reason behind this outcome, as well."

Frowning, Optimus remained silent, only taking the time to pry a shredded sweatshirt out of his left elbow joint. Sneezing again, Sari made her unsteady way to the still prone yellow Autobot, and grumpily plopped down on his chassis. After a moment, Cassidy adjusted her somewhat smeared sunglasses and sheepishly explained, "It was a clothing malfunction."

Simultaneously, a certain telepathic Decepticon deep beneath the base decided to close up shop. Soundwave dispassionately observed what should have been a state of the art underground Decepticon spy center. Instead, drones and 'Cons alike were slipping and sliding in the soapy mess of a twelve foot high flood level. Some of the workers were even experiencing malfunctions due to the corrosive mixture of soap, water, and natural chemicals found in the soil. As the telepath experienced a few unexpected error messages himself, he intoned, "Decepticons: retreat." Turning, he left, uncaring if the drones made it safely out of the dripping cavern. The attack against the Autobot contingent on Earth would have to be labeled a failure. Megatron would not be pleased.