Thirteen
13 of 13
Follows "Crescent Moon"

Thirteen. There were thirteen mechs infected by this…upgrade. Thankfully, Prime seemed to have escaped the insanity – Prowl wasn't entirely certain his processor could handle seeing his superior in the uniform they had all acquired. Besides which, who knew how the Matrix would react to the energy (he refused to use the term 'magic'; this entire situation may be illogical, but slag if he'd start giving in to local superstitions) their transformations produced. Even still, thirteen upgraded bots made things around the Ark interesting. As the most senior officer amongst the bots upgraded, Prowl found himself taking charge of the ragtag group. Jazz was always there to lend a helping hand, of course, but sometimes it seemed he went along too easily with the shenanigans the skirted crew got in to. Sometimes, Prowl felt he was the only sane one amongst them all, and sometimes he wondered if any of them could be considered sane at all, himself included. Taking another datapad from the stack in front of him, Prowl attempted to pull his scattered thoughts together and focus on his reports. Who knew when the next crises would occur.

Sooner rather than later, Prowl decided wryly as a blue-skirted mech whirled in to the room.

"Prowl! I'm sorry to disturb you, I know you're really busy and all, you've got tons of extra duties now that we've got this extra team and it seemed like you were busy enough before this—"

"Bluestreak." Prowl interrupted gently. Bluestreak stopped talking abruptly, his expression sheepish.

"Um. It's Bumblebee. He was practicing, and you know his upgrade doesn't do a lot of damage, it's more of a distraction-tactic, not that it's not really useful, like that time he used it against Thundercracker and—" Bluestreak cut off his vocalizer again at the quiet sound Prowl made – almost like how the humans cleared their throats – and cycled through his vents quickly. "Sunstreaker got in the way of a blast – it wasn't Bee's fault, honest! He wasn't expecting him there and then suddenly there Sunny was and you know how Sunny gets about his paint job and Bumblebee's upgrade does make an awful mess—"

Prowl held up his hand, and Bluestreak stopped obligingly. ::Bumblebee, what's your status?::

There was a long moment before Prowl's comm pinged back. ::Oh, I'm kind of just…hanging around.:: Bumblebee's tone was fairly sheepish, but he didn't sound damaged.

::And Sunstreaker?::

::…well…he's a little…upset right now. I didn't actually mean to hit him, but…well, you know Sunny.::

Prowl indulged himself for a brief moment to shutter his optics before replying. ::Indeed. What is your location?::

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prowl took in the tableau before him and resisted the urge to turn around and go back to the Ark. Beside him, Bluestreak's shoulders slumped in relief. "We made it in time. You'll fix things, right Prowl? I mean, of course you will, you always do, I just hope Sunny doesn't have to spend time in the brig, because he didn't actually hurt 'Bee, and everyone's okay, well except maybe Sunny's paint job, but that's easily fixed, and…"

::Inferno,:: Prowl commed, tuning out the gunner, ::Could you please meet me at these coordinates? We require your services.::

::Sure thing, Prowl.:: Inferno's voice was inquisitive. ::'s'it regardin' th' special team?::

::Yes, I'm afraid so.::

::Alright, jus' lemme ditch Red. He still gets a little jumpy aroun' that.::

::Thank you, Inferno.:: Prowl cut the link, and glanced back at the skirted mechs in the clearing. Sunstreaker was liberally doused with sparkles. The light caught on the individual specks of glitter splattered across his frame in a way that would be almost pretty, if it wasn't so jarring. He was currently prowling the clearing, murder in his optics. Sideswipe was no help at all; he was leaning against a tree trunk and giggling hysterically at his twin. Obviously, he was finding far too much amusement with the situation, as usual. Bumblebee was nowhere in sight, and Prowl wasn't entirely certain if this was comforting or alarming. Bluestreak was still cheerfully nattering on, and Hound was seated on a rock, his normally blue optics flashing the bright green that signaled he was using his upgrade. Prowl sent a private comm to the holograph specialist, wary of Sunstreaker still storming around the clearing. ::Hound. Where is Bumblebee?::

Hound's gaze flickered up to him briefly, before going back to their task. ::Up in the tree. I'm keeping him hidden just in case.::

The tree? Well, Prowl supposed that staying out of reach made a lot of sense, but how did the minibot manage to get up there in the first place…?

Just then, Inferno pulled in to the clearing, transforming as he did so. Sunstreaker spun around and growled at him, but Inferno just grinned easily at him. "Time to cool off, Sunny!" He drawled cheerfully, and leveled his hose at him.

As Prowl moved forward to help restrain the now soaking wet (and obviously angry) Lamborghini, a stray thought crossed his processor. Thirteen. Primus, could the Ark handle any more?

_______________________________________________________________________________

A/N: This came about from a conversation with chili_dance on the PxJ comm, regarding Bumblebee and sparkles. Granted, her original comment was how Bumblebee was the sparkly one, but...this popped up instead. And uh...yeah, I guess I turned the Autobots in to a Magical Girl team. I'm going to hell, I know. Poor Prowl.

I named eight of the thirteen magical!bots. Anyone want to guess who the rest are?