Disclaimer: Transformers does not belong to me and I make no money from this!
I thought this was going to be a one-shot but inspiration snuck up and bit me. Unless another idea strikes this will be the end, but you never know.
Cat's Eye - Chapter 2
Optimus Prime was not amused.
What had started as a one time thing in Bumblebee and Baricade's shared hanger had taken on a life of it's own. Apparently the bases resident felines had developed a rivalry.
Thankfully the rivalry wasn't physical in nature because no one doubted that Ravage could wipe the floor with Beeper. No, the battle royal between the two contenders was a matter of determination, endurance and sheer feline stubbornness.
Ravage and Beeper's staring contests were fast approaching epic proportions.
And like anything that happened regularly on an Autobot base ( ie. Sideswipe's pranks, Wheeljack's explosions) betting pools were soon created. While it had started with bets about the duration of the bouts, another pool had quickly taken over. Optimus had asked Jazz about the nature of the second pool, to which the saboteur had grinned and replied.
"With staring contests, as with real-estate, it's location, location, location!"
From the top of the Twin's hanger, to the middle of the tarmac, to under Sam's bed, no one knew where the next match would be held.
And that was half the fun. From Red Alert's watch tower to under the sheets on Epps' bed, the feline contest was by far the most talked about thing on base. It seemed that someone always had an eye on one of the cats as all times. From early morning to late at night, a new contest was always just around the corner and had lead to some rather strange matches.
Such as the three-way bout between Ravage, Beeper and Crikey. Almost as amazing as the three of them pulling off the triple stare-down had been the fact that Sidewipe won the pool. Incredulous looks followed the grinning front-liner for days after.
Then there was the match that almost sent several Bots to Ratchet for repairs. It had started when Ironhide had awoken from recharge, his sensors pinging to the fact that about half a dozen mechs were in his hanger. Onlining his optics, Hide found himself the center of attention. Well, not really. Everyone's attention was on Ravage, perched on Ironhide's chestplates, and Beeper, sitting on his forehead.
The angry roar of the Weapons Specialist shook every building on base. Stepping out of the Command Hanger, Optimus had watched as some of his best battle-hardened warriors tripped over each other as they ran for their lives, an enraged Ironhide on their heels.
But by far the most talked and laughed about contest had taken place in the human's dining hall. Judy and Carol had just set the table for dinner. Returning with platters and bowls of food, the two women had found Ravage and Beeper sitting at the table. Drawn by Judy's laughter, Laserbeak had the presence of mind to get an image capture of the scene.
Ravage had squeezed himself into a chair not made for a feline of his size. Back ramrod straight, he towered over the table while Beeper, looking amazingly small for such a fat cat, sat opposite the Decepticon with only the top half of his head clearing the table.
Before sending the image to everyone on base, Laserbeak tacked on a line to the bottom of it...
"You don't look anything like your profile picture."
It took 12.56 seconds for the entire base to erupt in laughter. Even Optimus chuckled warmly at the image.
But not anymore, Optimus was no longer amused.
Standing in the Command Hanger, next to the glorified crate that was his desk, Optimus glared daggers at the feline duo.
For today had found the pair meeting up on top of Prime's desk.
Ravage had sprawled himself across one side, taking up almost every inch of open space as only a cat can do. Beeper had perched himself on top of the highest stack of datapads. Straight backed, his tail lazyly flicking back and forth, the tabby's eyes were fixed on Ravage's bight red optics and both were completely ignoring the fuming Prime right behind them.
Optimus vented hard, fighting the urge to flick the pudgy organic creature off his datapads because that was a very un-Prime-like thing to do.
But, slag it all, he needed that datapad!
The very one the tubby tabby's ample backside was sitting on.
While Optimus wrestled with his inner Decepticon urges (he was NOT going to squash the slagging cat and explain to Carol what happened), Jazz sauntered into the hanger. Taking a look at the scene before him, Jazz grinned before turning and shouting out the open door.
"Ratchet, you win this round!"
Covering his optics with a servo, Optimus wondered if it was too late to hand in his resignation.
the end... maybe