So this took a long time to get moving. Ironically I wrote it all in about three hours, which is actually fairly normal for me. Once I start writing I can't stop, not for anything. It's the getting started that's difficult for me.
I would like to apologize, as there isn't much jet judo in this. But it just isn't as fun when the jet isn't fighting back, so I got tired of it pretty quickly. This is also a chapter where I believe the humor is more subtle, relying more upon the acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all.
It is four thirty in the morning and I am tired. Good night to all.
Disclaimer: me no own.
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The silver Pontiac Solstice eased around the last bend in the road before hitting a flat stretch of desert. They were close to one hundred and fifty miles away from anything resembling human civilization, which was the only reason these idiots weren't racketing the terrorist alert up to neon red. Simmons curled one hand around the door handle and scowled as a slightly battered-looking F-16 jet roared overhead.
"How are they even controlling it?" Captain Lennox peered through the sunroof as the jet swung around in a broad arch. Below it, shimmering with heat waves emanating from the packed dirt, a low-slung red sports car managed to keep fairly good pace with the plane.
"Look at Blue," Jazz answered, sounding thoroughly amused by the whole scenario. Simmons, a good deal less entertained, followed his suggestion. T he newcomer was standing next to a bored-looking Sunstreaker. Judging from the hunch of his shoulders, the fixed gaze, and the hand motions, he'd either suffered the 'bot version of a nervous breakdown or those morons had somehow rigged the jet to a remote control.
Like a little kid with a radio plane, the human realized darkly. And except for the 'little' part, these three certainly qualified as kids.
"You're a hacker," he said to Jazz, who made an odd humming noise in response. "Can't you, I don't know, intercept the link or something?"
"Only if you want th' jet to crash," the saboteur countered. "I can hack th' beam they're usin', sure, but I won't be able t' read th' signal an' adjust th' dataflow 'fore the jet hits."
Okay, that officially made no sense. The jet crashing part, though, that was crystal clear. And as much as Simmons felt that Air Force desk jockey was a complete idiot for letting someone borrow an F-16, he didn't want to return a pile of twisted metal to the base. It was a matter of pride.
"All right," he muttered. "As soon as that jet lands, or gets close enough that it won't be permanently damaged, take over. We're going to have- what is he doing?"
Either by accident or design the jet had drifted close enough for Sideswipe to launch himself out of car mode and wrap himself around the nosecone, clinging like a lizard as the jet went skywards. The saboteur's sunroof wasn't wide enough to see everything so Simmons pushed the door open and stepped out, shielding his eyes from the sun as he watched.
The point of this whole maneuver seemed to be rather like bull riding at a rodeo. The jet jerked and swung around and generally behaved like a hooked trout and Sideswipe held on, shifting himself so he was pressed flat across the jet's broad back. Simmons had to admit, the 'bot knew what he was doing- he kept himself well-balanced, easily riding out the worst of the movements. He even let go with one hand, waving to the group below.
"Jet judo," Jazz announced, still sounding as though he were having the time of his life. It took Simmons a few moments to realize the 'bot was answering his earlier question.
"Joy," the man snapped sourly. This was just what he needed- for this damn idiot stunt to actually work. Not that he wanted Sideswipe reduced to a crater on the desert floor, but that might hammer the point home. Nothing else would, knowing the boneheaded nature of the twins.
Then the jet gave a slight wobble. Simmons frowned but before he could say anything the jet pitched forward, dropping a couple dozen feet before jerking around. The human glanced at Bluestreak to see what the gunner was doing and saw a disaster in the making.
Sunstreaker had apparently declared himself bored and had tried to take over the flying. Unfortunately he'd forgotten to inform Bluestreak of this, trying instead to simply snatch the control out of the smaller 'bot's grip. This resulted in immediate confusion, but only for a moment. Then there came the ominous crack of plastic and a small fireworks display lit up in Bluestreak's hands. He dropped what was left of the remote and Simmons yanked his head around to see the jet's engines cutting off as it went into an uncontrolled dive.
"Oh hell," he muttered. Lennox was more proactive.
"Jazz-" he began.
"I'm on it," the saboteur answered, all business now. For a panicky moment it looked as though they'd be bringing Sideswipe back to base in a shoebox, but then the jet's engines roared to life. It swung around and leveled out, slowly descending. Simmons was annoyed, but not particularly surprised, to hear Sideswipe laughing.
"Lucky they only broke th' casing," Jazz put in, once again his cheerful self. "Th' connection was still up. Otherwise it'd've taken too long for me t' hack it."
The jet was close enough to the ground that Sideswipe felt it safe to drop off and saunter over to his brother. He joined the small circle of mechs kneeling around the remote, dropping to his knees and poking at the still-sparking pile of machine guts with one finger.
"This jet does not move," Simmons said to Jazz. "It's going nowhere except back where it belongs. No more jet judo. And try to come up with a way to explain the dents."
"You want me to lie?" Jazz asked.
"Well, I certainly don't want to tell the nice Air Force people that they gave their jet to a bunch of giant robots so they could play 'pin the Autobot on the F-16'," the former agent shot back. Jazz merely laughed in reply.
"Uh oh," Sideswipe muttered as Simmons strode over. Lennox followed, probably making sure Simmons didn't turn around and quit so soon after the captain convinced him to come back.
"And what, exactly, do you call that?" the older man demanded sharply. All three Autobots exchanged looks. Bluestreak started to respond but Simmons held up a hand, cutting him off. The hand became a finger pointing to Sideswipe. "You. Answer. As simply as possible."
"Jet judo," the warrior said on a shrug.
"I know that," Simmons growled in exasperation. "I just didn't realize you were in such a big hurry to kill yourself."
"I knew what I was doing," came the injured reply. "I was in perfect control."
"You were ten seconds away from being a pancake."
"Well, it's not my fault they busted the controller," Sideswipe muttered insolently. "I would have been fine if Sunny hadn't been stupid."
"What?" the gold twin spat. "Oh, fine, blame this on me. You're the one who built this slagging controller. If it broke it's your fault."
Sideswipe barked out a laugh, overriding Simmons' protests as he tried to get this conversation back on track. "Yeah, because obviously I should've known you'd grab it. I said be careful, didn't I? Right after-" He stopped himself, shooting a quick look towards Simmons.
"How did you even get this thing?" Simmons tried a safe, non-controversial topic. Sideswipe's near demise clearly unsettled him more than he cared to let on.
"We asked the people at the base," Sideswipe answered, sounding as though he were trying to explain physics to a houseplant.
"So you called up an Air Force base, asked if you could borrow an F-16, and they just gave you one?" Simmons glanced at Lennox, who shrugged in response. This seemed outstandingly stupid, especially considering the 'military experiment gone wrong' that had been Mission City.
"Ahh…" Sideswipe hesitated, trying to answer that without admitting to breaking any laws. Then Simmons saw him shoot a lightning-fast glance at something beyond him. He turned and stared at the silver Solstice, which sat in the baking sun as though it were just another unintelligent car.
"Jazz," the human groaned in realization. "Get over here."
"No thanks, I like it just fine where I am."
"Too bad." Simmons jerked his chin in a get-here-now gesture. The Solstice slowly drove over, looking as reluctant as a car could. Like a kid dragging his feet, Simmons thought wryly, and now he knew to include Jazz in the category of 'giant robot children'. It took almost a full minute, but finally Jazz was transformed and standing on the end of the row of transgressors.
"Now, let's try this again. You," and now he pointed to the saboteur. "How'd they get the jet?"
"They asked th' people at th' base."
Simmons stared at him, and Jazz finally grinned and shrugged.
"Okay, so I helped a little."
"A lot," Sunstreaker corrected snidely. Jazz ignored this.
"So maybe I accessed their mainframe an' did a little fiddlin'. Really, you guys gotta get better firewalls. It was pitiful."
"Yeah. I'll remember that. So what, you made that thing too?" Simmons gestured towards the remote. Jazz tilted his head to one side and studied it.
"Naw. Might've told 'em how, though."
"Maybe, might have. Notice a pattern here?" Simmons muttered to Lennox. The captain had taken a few steps back, pointedly separating himself from the older man.
"I stopped th' jet from crashin'. That counts for somethin', right?" Jazz looked hopeful. Simmons turned a dark glare on him and the saboteur rocked back, mumbling inaudibly as he did so.
The former agent turned away, pacing a little bit and dragging one hand through his short hair. Finally he came to his decision and turned back to face the four fidgety 'bots.
"I am tired," he stated flatly. "I have had a bad day. In fact, I've had a bad week. So you will out the jet back, tell the Air Force people you're sorry about its makeover, and do not do this again. If you feel the need to practice this…"
"Jet judo," Sideswipe supplied, sensing freedom.
"… jet judo again, make sure you don't get caught. And if you get caught, make sure I'm not the one who has to deal with the fallout. Now shoo."
There was a moment's pause. Then Sideswipe nudged his brother and both twins took off, not really going anywhere in specific except away from Simmons in case he changed his mind. Jazz transformed back and reactivated the link to the jet, causing its engines to fire up. He drove off as it lifted into the air, pointing towards the Air Force base before suddenly blasting off.
Bluestreak was left, looking uncomfortable, and Simmons smiled at him.
"All right, kid, back to base."
"Are you sure? Because-"
"Yes, I'm sure. Shut up and transform." Simmons cut him off before he could build up any real head of steam. Otherwise they'd be out here for hours. A few moments later he found himself staring at some sort of alien vehicle.
"Haven't had time to get an Earth form yet?" Lennox asked. Simmons answered before Bluestreak could.
"Too busy playing lackey for the twins. Can you transport humans?"
"Well, yes, but Prowl said he wanted us to-"
"Great. Get in and let's go." The human directed the last part towards Lennox as he strode over to the… thing. He paused and regarded Bluestreak's current form. "First thing you do when we get back is trade out vehicle forms, got it?"
"Yeah. I wanted to earlier, but Sideswipe-"
"Glad to hear it." Simmons studied the interior of the odd vehicle and sighed. The seats looked large and uncomfortable at best, but it was better than walking.
If there was one thing he could say about his job, it was that it certainly never got boring.