Summary : Ratchet's list of Wheeljack caused mishaps that incurred a loss of the left hand, starting from their youngling days to the time they arrive on Earth.

Disclaimer : Transformers, Ratchet, and Wheeljack, are the property of Hasbro.

Rating : I'm going to go with T on this one. Just don't try this at home.

Author's Note : Back from my break, with one story completely edited and another halfway done, hooray! But then again, that other story is almost fifty chapters long.

To answer a quick question from writergurl616: Nitrous Glycerin, the stuff Wheeljack was playing with in the last chapter, is the greenish (I think it's green) looking byproduct of sweating TNT sticks in hot climates. It is extremely volatile, and can explode by simply tapping the outside of the container gently. Which caused a whole lot of problems back in the Old American West, when they used TNT for blowing the train tunnels through mountains, in the desert. 'Jack was laughing cause he finally got to play with it, and the giddiness might have been added to by the energon loss he was suffering from.

Wannabe Starscream, you cheater. I think that still counts for the three reviews until a update, though. Almost made me feel guilty about not updating last week . . . almost.

Thanks to the rest of you that reviewed while I was away, and now, on with this Cybertronian style train wreck that you just can't look away from. Bet you all fifty credits it ain't what your thinking.


Number Seven on the List – Light Fixtures

Wheeljack's carrier was torqued at him after Ratchet escorted the mostly repaired and still giggling mini inventor home, after the mini medic finished his classes at the Academy.

Not that she was surprised by her creation's antics in anyway. The green and white youngling had been looking forward to playing with the explosive chemicals that were available to the students in the Academy, and the giggling coming from her youngling, that had not died down even a bit yet, was starting to scare her.

But she was of the opinion that running off to the Academy after Ratchet was more than a bit irresponsible of her youngling, since he had at least another vorn, at the earliest, to go until he would be going himself.

So after she finished yelling at her still giddy creation, Wheeljack's carrier thanked Ratchet and the two young mechs he introduced to her as Prowl and Jazz. Then sent them off with a few energon goodies for keeping an optic on her mechling, and for getting him out of the Academy grounds without explaining why he was there to the staff.

Then, she turned her attention to punishing the mini inventor. She grounded Wheeljack. To his room, without any of the young mech's tools or projects. At least, any that she knew of.

Really, taking in account just how fervently the red and white mini medic swore that 'Jack could make anything explode by looking at it, she should have known that her creation would get into trouble again.


A mere decacycle after being grounded, Wheeljack had hit upon an idea on how to pass the time.

He still had a few of the projects left from messing with his frame, and a few tools that were missed from his carrier's initial inspection of his room. 'Jack also had a few data pads with some information that was not widely available to most bots.

One of the frame additions, a set of vocalizer fins that would flash different colors depending on the mood of the mech they were installed in, only required a complete circuit board to be finished.

A circuit board, that just so happens to be quite similar to the ones used in general purpose door controls, according to the data pads.

Like the one in Wheeljack's room.

The green and white mini inventor giggled quietly to himself about having something new to do, then set about to make or scrounge up the tools required.

He would need one of the screwdrivers and the soldering tool imbedded in the wall under his berth, left over from making some of Ratchet's tools. He would also need some lengths of wire, those could be pulled from the few toys still in the room or even the data pads, if he needed longer bits of wire. Dismantling the door control would have to wait until later in the orn, after the evening refueling.

But Wheeljack could start now, and be ready with the tools he needed by the time carrier hit her berth for the off cycle.


After his carrier had gone to recharge, Wheeljack got started with finishing his new project.

He had already pulled the tools free from his wall, and had a few short lengths of wire, for both soldering and the wiring needed for the project. All he needed now, he hoped, was the circuit board in the door controls.

After pulling the control panel apart, and rewiring it so it wouldn't lock but still close, the mini inventor carefully broke the connections from the circuit board to the wires in the door.

Once it was free, Wheeljack compared the board to the schematic he had. Thankfully, it looked like it would work, but he needed more heavy grade wire, for connecting the board to the fins, that what he had.

Quietly breaking open one of his data pads, the mini inventor had to stifle a groan of disappointment. The wire in the data pads were not the type he needed, and were the wrong length.

Throwing himself on his berth with a huff, Wheeljack's optics landed on the light fixture in his room.

Racking his processor over what would contain the need grade of wire, the mini inventor nearly started to laugh out loud. He was staring at the solution to his problem.

The wiring used in construction would work. It was a bit more heavy duty than he needed, but that would be fine, right? Even preferable, as it would take more to damage it in anyway.

Now all he needed was to get up there, and pull some out of the ceiling.


Ratchet was getting that creepy feeling down his spinal struts again. The same one that usually preceded one of Wheeljack's frequent explosions. That feeling had been developed into a very accurate warning system, well exercised by the green and white's usual orn to orn antics.

The red and white mini medic had a joor or so until his class started, so in the interest of getting rid of that annoying itch, Ratchet made his way to Wheeljack's living unit.

Just to check on 'Jack, for the mini medic's peace of processor.

He was greeted by Wheeljack's carrier, who seemed amused and agitated in equal parts by Ratchet's own worry. The femme let him in anyways. "I'm getting the same feeling. You don't think 'Jack would do something stupid just because he was bored, right?"

"This is 'Jack we are talking about." The red and white mini medic traced his way to Wheeljack's room, a well traveled path that both the young mech and older femme had taken together many times before. "He made a data pad explode. In pieces or not, that's hard to do. I'm not putting anything beyond his abilities."

With a sniff, the older femme palmed the door control. And then stared at it when the door failed to open. "Strange, it worked last cycle. Wonder what-"

A loud crash cut her off.

Both bots stared at the stubbornly closed door for a breem. They could faintly hear Wheeljack trying to be quiet and curse at something at the same time.

Ratchet sighed and rubbed his optics. "I'm gonna go to class, and come back with my tools. If you can get 'Jack to open the door by the time I get back, I will be impressed." The mini medic turned to leave, but stopped and turned back around at the sudden opening of the seemingly broken door.

Wheeljack,who was standing behind the door, looked at both his carrier and his best friend, then gave them both a sheepish smile. "Um . . . oops?"

"What do you mean by 'oops', creation of mine?" The older femme crouched down in order to stare into her green and white youngling's own optics at the same level.

Wheeljack's sheepish smile turned into a grimace as he pulled his left arm out from behind his back. He was missing his hand, again. "I . . . uh, fell."

"Fell? That's it? You didn't explode, and lose it that way?" Ratchet was suspicious of the other youngling's claim. Wheeljack always exploded, it was a very solid fact of life. It was never a simple accident with the green and white. And he still had that creepy feeling in his back struts.

Wheeljack snorted. "Dose it sound like I exploded? All I did was fall! Well, from a decent height off the floor, and my hand was in the ceiling." Wheeljack paused to examined his stump of a wrist joint. "It might still be up there."

As soon as the green and white finished his sentence, something on the ceiling inside his room began to throw sparks. At the hissing noise that accompanied it, Wheeljack suddenly darted out while he palmed his side of the controls.

An astrosecond after the door hissed shut, a muffled boom could be heard, making all three bots flinch.

The mini inventor cringed in the resulting silence and stared at the floor, stubbornly not looking up at the two carefully watching him for any other delayed explosions. "Now, I blew up. Well . . . my hand did." With a quick peek to his best friend to judge how mad he was now, the green and white turned his attention to his carrier. "Dose that count? It wasn't even connected to me at the time."

Ratchet gritted his dental plates in a futile effort to keep from smacking Wheeljack. "Yes, 'Jack. That counts." The mini medic gave in to his violent urge, and smacked the mini inventor upside the helm when all Wheeljack did was smile at him. Or cringe, it was hard to tell.


AN#2: So? Do I win the fifty credits, or what?