Author's note:I did not know who the winners would be when I began to write this story. I picked the first, second, and third place winners based on which of my drawings of the dancers posted in my deviantART gallery (follow the link in my profile) accumulated the most views and favorites as I wrote this. Of course, I can't say the 'voting' was entirely fair, since I never got a picture of Jazz's squad posted. Let's blame Soundwave for jamming that transmission.
O.O.O
Dancing with the Autobots
Chapter 9: And The Winners Are ...
O.O.O
"Above all else," Megatron barked as the Decepticons rode the Victory's telescoping docking tower towards the surface of the Pacific Ocean, "I want that device the Autobots are so foolishly trying to pass off as a simple trophy! Destroy any Autobot and crush any human that gets in your way!"
Starscream silently mouthed along with Megatron's tirade disinterestedly, as if that particular sport had long since lost its challenge to him. Really, if the 'device' were as valuable as Megatron claimed, why would the Autobots even bother with showing it on national, even global, television and try to pass it off as something else entirely? Why not do something silly like, oh, perhaps just hide it and not let anyone know they had it in the first place? Autobots were a bunch of imbeciles, true, but even they deserved more credit than that.
"Any questions?" Megatron finally snapped at the end of his set of vague instructions.
"Uh, yeah," Rumble hedged a moment later, just when it started to look like no one was going to speak up. "Just where is this Ozzin Stadium place, anyway?"
Megatron scowled dangerously, but he did not answer. He tossed a commanding look at Soundwave, who, surprisingly, just shook his head and did not answer, either.
Uncharacteristically, Megatron gaped for a long moment. "Of all the ..!" he finally blurted, slamming his hand against the STOP button and then furiously jamming a finger servo at the DOWN key.
"Earth city of Eugene, state of Oregon, United States of America," Starscream recited in such a bored monotone that he almost sounded like Soundwave for a moment. It was worth noting that he chose to speak up several long and obvious moments after Megatron had been caught flat-footed. "The precise coordinates of Autzen Stadium are forty-four point zero five eight three three degrees North, one-twenty-three point zero six eight six one degrees West." He flashed a smarmy, condescending grin as everyone else just stared at him stupidly. "Honestly, Rumble, try looking things up sometime. An informed leader is a victorious leader, after all."
Shooting a paint-peeling glare at Starscream, who just shrugged and inspected his finger servos with casual interest, Megatron slammed the STOP button one more time and turned the docking tower once again into an ascent towards the surface.
O.O.O
After Jem and the Holograms's opening act, all the contestants together had started the show with one spectacular, noncompetitive number. At this time, four entries had already performed and received their critique from the judges, which would count for forty percent of their final results: Optimus and Elita, Ironhide and Chromia (who did not miss her cue despite Prowl's initial panic), Springer and Arcee, and Firestar and Inferno.
Brick Springstern took the stage for twenty minutes before intermission, or 'halftime' as Eject insisted on calling it. Most of the Autobots watched the concert, singing along and tapping their tarsal plates with the catchy beat. Every 'Bot was enjoying him- or herself immensely this evening, except for Prowl, who was frantically trying to break up a four-way backstage brawl that Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Hot Rod, and Bluestreak had purposely staged without offering him any warning.
"So," Slamdance asked a seemingly random audience member when the concert was over, the fifth such interview he'd conducted during the show's breaks. "What's your name, sir?"
"Footloo- I mean, uh," the man hesitated slightly, giving the camera an unreadable glance. "I mean, wow, these dancing Autobots are really footloose and talented! Awesome! That quickstep was something else! I'm enjoying the hell out of myself tonight! Woo-hoo!"
"And you, ma'am?" Slamdance asked the red-haired woman seated next to him. "Your name is ..?"
"Well, fiddle dee-dee, mah name is Scarlett," she answered the Autobot journalist in a thick, Southern accent, while batting her eyelashes guilelessly.
"Er, Scarlett what?" Slamdance asked in confusion, having never seen Gone with the Wind.
"Just Scarlett for now," she replied, with markedly less accent this time. "And I'm having a great time here tonight, too."
"I see," Slamdance nodded slightly, though for half a nanoklik, he seemed distracted, almost as if he was listening to something only he could hear, perhaps his private communicator or something like it. Then he smiled and nodded slightly, ending the interview. "Well, I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of the show!"
O.O.O
While Slamdance continued his interviews, Optimus took the opportunity of intermission to call Ultra Magnus and see how things were running in Metroplex, while Springer, who took some measure of sympathy on the harried Prowl, decided to check the status of the security around the stadium.
"So far, so good," Topspin was telling Springer over the comm link. "Actually, it's kinda disappointing that nothing's happening, you know?"
"Look, I know how bad you guys want to punch someone, but with all the humans here, I'd rather it stays nice and calm tonight," Springer answered. Out of the corner of his optic, he saw a bright streak of bluish afterimages that he recognized as Blurr, rushing into the empty maintenance room where he and Arcee had gone to find a quiet place to step out of character and make the radio call. While always twitchy and high-strung, Blurr didn't seem alarmed or upset as he stopped for a moment to whisper something into Arcee's audio receptor before dashing away again at the speed of sound. Springer just mentally filed the encounter away for later and continued the security check. "I just want to be sure that someone went through the parking lot to – MMMP!"
Focused on issuing orders, Springer was caught completely off guard when Arcee unexpectedly pounced on him hard enough to knock him backward into the wall, wrapped her arms around his neck struts, and started kissing him passionately. Not that he was one to complain whenever he got an armful of fembot out of the deal, but still, surprise made him try to ask, "Mrrp? Wmff?"
"Cmr!" Arcee tried to explain without breaking the kiss.
"Wt?"
Quickly, Arcee pulled back just long enough to answer, "Blurr just told me a camera crew's coming!"
"Oh!" Springer exclaimed, finally understanding. Glancing down the direction that Blurr had appeared from, he just caught a glimpse of a cameraman and two boom operators heading their way, roaming the backstage area to hopefully catch more action for the home video release. Arcee was telling him to hurry up and get back in character before they were found. "Topspin, carry on!" he whispered quickly into his communicator.
"What?" Topspin sounded baffled by the abrupt change in the conversation. "What's going on?"
"Stand by!" Springer blurted, then grabbed Arcee and kissed her madly just half a nanoklik before the camera crew noticed them.
"Wha- stand by? Springer?" Topspin asked in confusion over the forgotten communicator. "Springer?" he demanded again, his tone changing to one of worry when his commanding officer didn't answer right away. "What's going on there? Do you need assistance? And what in the Pit am I hearing?"
O.O.O
After intermission, the human instructors who had guided the Autobots to the finals put on their own extravagant exhibition number. Then, the last three teams danced for the competition: Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Blurr and Moonracer, and finally, Jazz's squad.
"Get out your cell phones and get ready to vote!" Spike announced to the stadium and the audience at home. "Lines will be opening up momentarily, and you will have a half-hour window to show your support for your favorite dancers tonight!" He gestured to the competitors, all of whom were arranged in a row on the stage behind him and Bumblebee. "At the end of that half-hour, we'll have a live, instant tally that will tell us who, of all these talented performers, will have the honor of taking home the Iacon Trophy!"
"While the votes come in, we will have an amazing, daring air show performed by our own Aerialbots," Bumblebee continued, "as a backdrop to a very special performance by Jem and the Holograms with Brick Springstern! But first, here are the numbers to text your votes! If you're voting for Optimus Prime and Elita One, text the letters OPxEO to -"
A look of horror abruptly crossed Bumblebee's faceplate. Cutting himself off in mid-sentence, he grabbed his helm over his audio receptor, where the receiver circuit of his communicator was located, and listened intently for two nanokliks. Most of the Autobots lined up behind their hosts mirrored this shocked action.
Spike, who didn't have a built-in comm link like the Autobots did, nonetheless recognized the reaction to a general emergency broadcast when he saw one. He was well into signaling the camera crew of the impending danger when Bumblebee blurted, "Decepticons incoming!"
O.O.O
"We see them!" Silverbolt yelled into the general communicator link. He and his brothers had already taken to the sky as part of the air show, just moments before Broadside had spotted the incoming assault wave and sounded the alarm. "It looks like the entire Decepticon force! Moving to intercept!"
O.O.O
"Sending backup!" Ultra Magnus responded from Metroplex, where the alert had also been received. "Sky Lynx, break orbit and assist, now! Pipes!" he ordered to the little Minibot next to him, "I don't care what it takes to convince them, just get the Dinobots on Skyfire and dispatch them immediately!"
"That's easy!" Pipes answered, already transformed and peeling out towards the Dinobot Lair. "All I have to do is promise them they're going to star in one of Kup's war stories, and they'll probably trample me trying to be the one who gets on board first!"
O.O.O
"Silverbolt!" Optimus Prime barked into his communicator. "If the Constructicons form Devastator, then he is your priority! Form Superion and let us handle the rest! Goodyear Blimp – do you copy? Get out of here NOW! Everyone else, there are fifty-four thousand humans in this stadium that need protecting!"
O.O.O
Admirably never breaking character, Tracks called out, "Do pardon me, darling," before jumping into action. If there was going to be any sort of fighting tonight, Tracks's first responsibility was to scoop Carly up and hustle her off the field to the relative safety of the stadium's locker room.
O.O.O
"Wreckers!" Springer shouted a little too gleefully into his team's private channel as he drew one of his rotor-swords from its hidden sheath on his back, "Looks like we get to punch someone after all!"
O.O.O
"WHAT?" Cobra Commander shrieked furiously at his television. "No, no, NO!" he wailed, banging his fists on his desk. " Announce the numbers! People can't cast their votes if they don't know the numbers! AAARGH! We won't make any profit if people can't vote!"
Tomax and Xamot glanced nervously at one another, and very carefully, very quietly, backed slowly out of the room.
O.O.O
Most of the audience watched in fascinated awe when the aerial dogfights began. A few people, those who realized the fighting was in earnest, screamed in terror, but were immediately shushed by the many cheering people around them who thought this was part of the air show.
The dogfighting lasted for less than a minute before several of the Seekers slipped past the Aerialbots and, transforming, reached the stadium field. A few more screams went up, but were drowned out by a roar of booing and hissing as the majority of the audience expressed their feelings about Decepticons as if they were watching a bad melodrama.
A few attendees, who truly realized what was happening, ran for the exits. A few more level-headed audience members, who also realized what was happening, tried to act as crowd control just in case panic broke out.
Three audience members forgot their cover entirely, and leapt onto the field screaming, "YO, JOE!" at the top of their lungs.
O.O.O
A horrible, booming collision that echoed for miles immediately explained how the Seekers had gotten through the Aerialbots's defensive perimeter: as predicted, the Constructicons had merged to form Devastator, and the Aerialbots had responded by forming Superion. The giant Autobot had rammed the Decepticon combiner right out of the sky, trying to force him towards the rural farmland to the north of the city, where they could fight with less risk to the human population.
Skywarp landed on the field first, and, much to the confusion of the Autobots, started snapping his finger servos in a persistent, almost musical rhythm as the other Seekers quickly fell into position around him. "You stink like a school of Sharkticons!" he challenged as the Decepticons backing him took up the same snapping rhythm. "Hand over the Iacon Trophy, now!"
Instead of moving to attack, though, the Seekers all bizarrely threw their arms towards the sky and swung a leg up, throwing themselves into tight twirls that ended in synchronized poses of lunging towards their foes. It looked surprisingly like dancing, much to the delight of the cheering audience, and for one glorious moment, Skywarp's tactical plan of assault did, indeed, completely baffle the Autobots.
Jazz, whose television-watching habits could be rivaled by those of the Junkions themselves, was the only one who recognized the choreography, but he recognized it instantly: It was the opening salvo of the first battle danced between two rival street gangs in the 1961 Oscar-winning movie, West Side Story.
They were being challenged by a scene from a musical.
Offended that such a classic had been co-opted by the Decepticons, Jazz shouted back, "You Seekers ain't no Jets!" He was so insulted that he didn't even feel obligated to respond with the Sharks gang's answering pirouette; he just grabbed his gun and started blasting.
Natalie Wood, rest in peace, was quickly avenged.
O.O.O
"Megatron!" Optimus Prime nearly snarled as his lifelong nemesis landed on the field before him. Aiming his ion blaster steadily between Megatron's optics, he demanded, "What could you possibly want this time? There's nothing for you here!"
"The naive facade doesn't suit you, Prime!" Megatron answered, aiming his cannon at his foe with equal calm. "You know exactly what I want!"
Optimus simply shrugged one shoulder. "Actually, no, I really don't. Not unless you've come for dancing lessons?" At times like this, he almost wished he didn't wear the mask to protect his face. He would have loved to see Megatron's reaction to the smarmy grin he was wearing beneath it. "I'm sure Grimlock will be more than happy to teach you some fancy footwork."
"I need no lessons to claim that-"
Megatron's tirade was suddenly interrupted by several high-pitched battle-cries of "CYBERTRON!" The Decepticon leader had no time to react and barely any time to even look around before he was hit and went down hard, tackled in four different directions by four rather violent femmes.
"What the ..?" Optimus asked no one in particular, unable to do much more than just stare in surprise for a moment. He hadn't been expecting this tactic, but Elita, Firestar, Chromia, and Moonracer were certainly making a go of it. A furiously cursing Megatron was pinned faceplate-down on the ground, and the femmes were beating the absolute scrap out of him. "Er … careful!" Optimus finally said, stepping forward to help. "Let me-"
Elita's head snapped up from the fray for a moment, just long enough to shout, "Back off, Optimus!"
Optimus Prime was respected by Autobot and Decepticon alike for the depth and breadth of the wisdom that had come to him through nine million years of being the Prime. This deep and profound wisdom informed him now that there was not much he could do when his sparkmate yelled at him like that, other than to somewhat sheepishly answer, "Yes, dear."
O.O.O
Not unexpectedly, Rumble and Frenzy made a beeline for Rewind and Eject, since the two Decepticon punks were just smart enough to know to take on someone their own size when the opportunity presented itself. Whenever Blaster was sighted in a battle, they could count on their favorite punching-bags to be nearby.
What they hadn't counted on was Slamdance. Since they hadn't been watching the journalist's pre-show interviews, they simply had not known of his recent arrival to Earth. As it turned out, Slamdance really did not appreciate anyone besides himself picking on his little brothers, and since he was actually a gestalt of the two cassettes Grandslam and Raindance, it made him roughly twice the size of Rumble and Frenzy.
Rumble and Frenzy, busy slugging it out with their Autobot counterparts, had forgotten all about this. They only remembered it exactly one-tenth of a nanoklik after Slamdance grabbed each one of them by the cranium. Then he simply slammed their two skull housings together, dropped them like broken toys, and that was the end of that.
O.O.O
The Seekers, having failed in their West Side Jet Initiative, were hard-pressed for a second act. In the back of his mind, while blasting away at the onslaught of better-rehearsed Autobots, Skywarp was blaming the failure on Soundwave for not providing danceable music at the proper moment.
O.O.O
While the Minibots sniped the Decepticons from their gunnery stations around the top of the stadium, the show's security team, otherwise known as the Wreckers, gleefully plowed into the threat in a full frontal assault, guns blazing, shouting some rather creative battle cries and making a few last-minute wagers on the body count.
Leading the attack, of course, was Springer, sword in one hand and blaster in the other. Or at least, the thing leading the charge resembled Springer, but gone as the jovial, happy-go-lucky Triple-Changer that everyone knew and loved. In its place was something terrifying. The fearsome expression on his faceplate was nothing short of deadly as he cut down Decepticons like so much tissue paper, taking solid blows without even flinching, returning the blows with twice the fury. There was no room for doubt in anyone's mind why this one-mech wave of destruction had been named the leader of the Wreckers.
Arcee was right behind him, a pistol in each hand, covering his vulnerable back. Though the petite femme was not technically on the active duty roster of the Wreckers, the two of them fought together with a graceful fluidity that was almost beautiful to watch as they forced the Decepticons back, step by step. She moved when he moved, she spun when he spun, each aimed and fired where the other could not, all in the utter silence that came from complete trust in one's partner.
The tango, it seemed, was just a warmup. This was nothing short of ballet.
O.O.O
"On my mark!" Prowl barked at the small group of Autobots that were going to strike from behind while the Wreckers attacked from the front. "Weapons, NOW!" With his blasters clearing the way, Prowl led the charge across the field, then, at the last moment, transformed and started driving as wildly as he could. Skidding right and left in tight coordination, the five drivers knocked nearly every Decepticon on the field right off their foot servos and, in seconds, handed the Autobots the tactical advantage.
It would be the next day before it finally occurred to Prowl that his little strike force had consisted of Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Hot Rod, and Bluestreak, and, oddly enough, they had all seemed to be getting along just fine.
O.O.O
Unsure what else to do, Optimus just stared rather forlornly at the bizarre fight that was going on at his feet. Firestar had pinned Megatron's cannon arm, and the rest of the femmes were reveling in pounding the violently swearing Decepticon leader into the ground. Every time he tried to get up, they just knocked him right back down that much harder. The femmes didn't seem to need any help, but, nonetheless, Optimus felt he should keep his gun at the ready just in case Megatron somehow managed to get the upper hand.
Not that it seemed very likely.
Prime glanced up when he noticed someone running towards him. It was Ironhide, charging to the rescue after having swatted himself a few Insecticons, but slowing down with a very baffled expression on his faceplate when he truly took in the situation. "Uh ..." the Weapons Specialist managed after a long and confused moment. "Is that ... is that Megatron under there?" he asked, gesturing to the pile of kicking, punching, shouting femmes.
"It is," Optimus nodded quietly.
"Oh. Well, they're really, um," Ironhide tried again, "really kicking the scrap outta him, aren't they?"
"Yes," the Autobot leader sighed, "they are."
"No offense or nothing, but how come you ain't-"
"They won't LET me!" Optimus finally blurted in frustration. Fortunately he didn't notice as Ironhide's momentary shock quickly dissolved into an expression of amusement as he complained, "Elita said something about Megatron having to admit he got his aft handed to him by a bunch of femmes on national television. She told me not to interfere with their big moment, so here I am, standing guard because I just don't know what else I'm supposed to do."
Ironhide couldn't help but laugh out loud at this. True, it seemed a bit at odds for anyone to be laughing so heartily in the middle of a battle like this, but obviously the femmes had their particular fight completely under their control. "Well, Prime, if Elita can make you back out of a fight with ol' Megatron here, then Jazz would say she's definitely got you wrapped around her little finger servo."
"Both little fingers," Optimus responded promptly, despite the situation. "I'm a contortionist that way."
Ironhide laughed again. "Gee, I don't know nothing about that at all," he joked with an amused glance at Chromia, who was currently trying to break Megatron's knee joint while simultaneously kicking him in the cranial housing. "But I do know that when Elita and her gals are handing Megatron the pounding of his life, there's definitely something you can do besides just stand there."
"Oh?" Optimus asked cautiously, noting the amusement in Ironhide's voice. "And that is ..?"
"Cheer 'em on!" Ironhide exclaimed, turning to the fight and clapping his hand servos in wild approval. "Ya-HOO! My LADIES! Bust his Decepti-chops for crashing our party! That's the spirit, Chromia! Rip his optics out, Firestar!"
For just a moment, Optimus Prime stared in complete bemusement. Then he decided, why not? Maybe Ironhide was on to something. Shrugging, he threw decorum to the wind and cheered, "Bite him harder, Moonracer!"
O.O.O
In the midst of all this, Starscream quietly landed on the field near the stage, deliberately not firing any weapons, charging into battle, or in any other way attracting attention to himself.
There was the so-called Iacon Trophy, just a few steps away. Megatron's precious prize was simply sitting on its pedestal, alone and unguarded. Obviously, the Autobots either didn't care or had forgotten all about it. Well, slag it, what better proof of the valueless nature of the trophy could anyone ask for?
Still, Starscream was committed to seeing this farce through to the end, so, purposefully striding across the stage, he unceremoniously snatched the prize from its display stand. As he did, he noticed he was being charged by a very determined Bumblebee, who, oddly, had a bit of red fabric tied around his neck strut. Ordinarily, Starscream had no fear of the Minibots, but he'd discovered the hard way that this particular Minibot had learned to go for the knee joints. Not wanting to go through the minor pain and major embarrassment of getting knocked down and out by the little pipsqueak yet again, he rocketed himself into the sky and transformed before Bumblebee could complete the tackle. "This is Starscream," he said into his communications link. "I have acquired the trophy and am returning to - wait ... what's happening?"
O.O.O
"What's happening?" Prowl demanded of Grapple, who had stopped in the middle of the fight to stare at his beautiful stage with a healthy dose of confusion and a pinch of fear.
The stage was transforming.
"I ... I don't ..." Grapple stammered. "I didn't ..."
Panels folded in on themselves, archways became arms, joists became legs, lighting systems became a face, and the stage began to stand on its own two gigantic feet.
"Are you kidding me?" This came from Hot Rod, who was staring up at the giant robot with just as much wonder and confusion as Grapple. "Why in the name of Cybertron did you have Vector Sigma give your stage life?"
"I ... I didn't," Grapple repeated faintly.
"Well, it's ... oh." Prowl stopped and nodded as a different possibility occurred to his logical brain. "A hologram. Hound?" he called, half turning to look for the Autobot's master of illusions. He flinched visibly when he realized the mech in question was standing only a step behind him, looking just as baffled as everyone else.
"Wasn't me," Hound said with a shake of his head and a show of empty hand servos.
"Oh." Prowl looked vaguely ill for a moment, then hurried back several steps with everyone else as the now fully-transformed stage, towering as tall as the stadium itself, lumbered towards the panicked scramble of retreating Decepticons. "Then let me say it again. What's happening?"
O.O.O
"What's happening?" Ultra Magnus demanded as the Technobots frantically punched buttons and rerouted processes, trying to get ahead of the frenzied electronic activity that was rocketing through Teletraan-2 long enough to identify it.
"I don't know!" Lightspeed answered distractedly. "It's this Synergy software! It's doing something that we didn't program it to do, but it's going too fast to analyze!"
"Why is it doing anything at all?" Magnus tried not to snap, knowing that yelling wouldn't help the situation. "Shut it down! The show is over and we're in the middle of a battle! Special effects are -"
"Uh ... guys?" Nosecone interrupted, pointing to the video monitor that gave them Skyspy's aerial surveillance of Autzen Stadium. "Who's that big mech, and where did he come from?"
Nearly all sound in the Command Center screeched to a halt as the Autobots stopped to stare stupidly, for several long seconds, at the image of the mysterious giant on the monitor. Then, almost as one, they turned to look at Teletraan-2 and the brightly flashing lights that indicated the Synergy program's rapid, unexplained activity.
Teletraan-2 had detected the threat to the Autobots, and Synergy, it seemed, had responded.
"Cool," Strafe commented.
"I think I agree with Strafe," Magnus assessed slowly, smiling as the Decepticons on the monitor tripped and crashed into one another in their chaotic attempt to flee from their unexpectedly gigantic, and entirely holographic, opponent. "Let's let the program run a little while longer, shall we?"
"Let it run?" Strafe echoed with a devilish grin. "Are you kidding me? I'm going to do more than just that. I'm totally going to pirate a copy!"
O.O.O
Almost as quickly as it had begun, the attack was over. With the Decepticons fled, the mysterious giant unfolded himself, laid back down into the shape of a stage, and never moved again.
"Is everyone all right?" Optimus demanded quickly, surveying the stadium quickly to see if any of his Autobots had been wounded. There were some bangs and scrapes, and Steeljaw was fairly scratched up from his catfight with Ravage, but from what he could see, the most serious injury seemed to be that one of the Insecticons had taken a bite out of Wheeljack's elbow.
Though Megatron had finally regained his footing and retreated with the other Decepticons, the four femmes who had opened up a can of whoop-aft on him were still sprawled on the ground in entirely indecorous positions, amped up on the Cybertonian version of adrenaline and laughing like lunatics.
The three humans who had shouted their strange battle-cry and tried to join the fight were now being sheepishly escorted back to their seats by a vaguely amused Hoist.
Jazz and Blaster stood a little apart from the cluster of slightly bemused Autobots. Though their voices were pitched too low to be heard, judging by their wild gesticulations, they were discussing something with a lot of feeling behind it. It was an even wager what their discussion was about.
Prowl was on his communicator with the Autobots who were giving chase to make sure the Decepticons didn't loop back; Sky Lynx had re-entered the atmosphere and arrived just in time to join the Aerialbots in this pursuit.
A little off to one side, the Wreckers were still on alert, just in case the Decepticons had left anyone or anything behind as a surprise, but they, too, seemed to slowly be coming down off their Cyber-adrenaline rush. Their team leader himself was standing unnaturally still, head down, weapons in his hands as he stared intently at the ground. Arcee patiently had one supportive hand resting lightly on his thick forearm, while Hot Rod stood a few steps away, looking slightly concerned but saying nothing. Then, abruptly, Springer sheathed his sword and put his blaster away, and the jovial grin was back on his faceplate and the merry twinkle was back in his optic as if they had never left. "Well," he chuckled, "that was fun and entertaining. Anyone know what that was all about?"
Springer's rare ability to transform himself into two different alt-modes was nothing compared to his frightening ability to transform his personality between cheerful nice guy and cold-fueled killer on a moment's notice.
"Nobody knows," Hot Rod answered his friend with a shrug. "But the crowd loved it. Listen to them cheering!"
Just then, a bright streak of blue skidded to a halt in their midst, and Blurr, gesturing even more wildly than Jazz, blurted, "Theytookthetrophy! TheDecepticonsmusthavetakenit! Idon'tknowhytheytookitbuttheydid!"
"Blurr! Slow down!" Optimus ordered, waving his hands futilely. "Why would the Decepticons take the trophy?"
"Idon'tknowIreallyreallyreallydon'tknow! It'sjustnothere! There'snowhereelseitcouldhavegone!"
"He's right, if he said what I think he said," Bumblebee interjected, pointing towards the sky. "I saw Starscream fly away with the trophy myself, and then they all took off and followed him. So ... what do we do now?"
"We're gonna spin it!" Jazz suddenly exclaimed, appearing out of practically nowhere to shovel the little Minibot firmly towards the stage.
"Spin it?" Bumblebee squeaked in surprised confusion.
"Yeah, spin it, little spin doctor," Jazz explained hurriedly. "You're still the host. Most of the crowd thinks that whole shebang just now was part of the show. Say whatever you have to, but don't let nobody start to think otherwise! Just work the crowd long enough to buy me an' Blaster half a breem to figure out how to salvage somethin' outta this. Cybertron's gonna fall into the Pit itself before we let the 'Cons spoil our fun tonight!"
O.O.O
"Judges! Over here!" Blaster ordered as Bumblebee took the stage and had the crowd roaring its approval of the little 'surprise exhibition' within moments. "Spike, you too. Oh, scrap, where's Carly?"
"She's all right," Spike answered, waving his phone to show that he was speaking to his wife at that very moment. "Tracks shoved her in the locker room where it was safe, but she's on her way now."
"Okay, good," Blaster nodded. "We think we got a plan. Hound, get your aft over here, we need you too if we're gonna make this work. Jazz, what you got for us?"
Holding up his index finger in a 'hang on one nanoklik' gesture, Jazz instead spoke rapidly into his private communicator. "You there? It's me, man, it's Jazz. Yeah, I know!" he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. "I know no votes came in over the phones! The 'Cons cut Bee off before he could announce the numbers! What I need to know is if anyone out there remembered they could also vote by credit card on the official website! ... Uh huh ... uh huh ... Well, it's better than nothin'. Yeah, they were prob'ly too busy watchin' the action to even think about votin'. There enough votes to tell us first, second, an' third place? ... uh huh ... yeah ... yeah, I kinda figured. Okay, thanks, man, it's all we got an' we're gonna roll with it. Jazz out. All righty, guys," he said, turning to everyone else, "We got us a few thousand votes off the 'net an' we're gonna use that to determine the winners, 'kay?"
O.O.O
"...and we truly thank everyone for your enthusiasm tonight!" Bumblebee was cheerfully saying over the sound system. His calm facade was so convincing that everyone in the crowd, even the ones who had initially panicked, now firmly believed that there had been no danger whatsoever, that what they thought were 'Decepticons' might just have been Autobots performing in clever costumes. "And don't forget, souvenir posters, soundtracks, figurines, and clothing will be available on your way out. But for now ..."
"For now, America has spoken!" Spike interrupted, racing to take the microphone just before his co-host ran out of material. "It's time to announce the winners of Dancing with the Autobots!"
Relieved, Bumblebee turned to look behind him as the crowd cheered, and he saw that the competitors had lined themselves up loosely behind their hosts, awaiting the official announcement of the winners and very purposefully looking as if everything that happened had been planned all along. A moment later, the judges entered, stage left, and behind them came Hound, carrying ... the Iacon Trophy?
Shaking his cranium as if the wiring in his optics needed to be jiggled back into place, Bumblebee stared at the object Hound was carrying. It certainly looked exactly like the Iacon Trophy, but how could that be? Starscream had stolen it and flown off with the Aerialbots in hot pursuit. He'd witnessed the theft himself.
But as Bumblebee looked a little more closely, his suspicions were aroused when he noticed the trophy flicker slightly, just once. And, more tellingly, Hound's finger servos seemed to pass slightly into the trophy's base as he carried it.
The giveaway, though, was the slight glow coming from Hound's hologram projector. The trophy, Bumblebee realized, wasn't real at all. Like his little speech a moment ago, the holographic copy of the award was just another way to keep the crowd from realizing how close to danger it had actually come.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for," Spike continued, on much firmer footing than Bumblebee, because he, at least, knew the plan. "The votes are in! Shall we hear from our judges?"
"In third place," Tracks announced grandly as he moved into the spotlight and let the crowd bask in his gorgeousness for a moment, "are Inferno and Firestar, with the Quickstep! Congratulations, darlings! Now work it for us!"
Smiling broadly, Inferno took his partner by the hand and spun her forward as they both stepped up to take a bow. Most of the new scratches on Firestar's chassis were masked by the shine of the spotlights, but Inferno definitely had developed a bit of a limp that he couldn't quite disguise.
"In second place," Carly bubbled when the wild applause died down, "burning up the stage with the Milonguero-style Argentine Tango, Arcee and Springer!"
The moment the spotlights turned on them, Arcee threw herself into Springer's arms and struck an almost torrid pose, the two of them tossing sultry smiles at the audience as Arcee did her best to use her body to block the audience's view of the burn marks on Springer's chestplate where he'd shrugged off two direct hits from a Decepticon blaster.
"And finally," Kup finally announced, playing with his cy-gar to draw out the audience's suspense. A drum roll sounded over the stadium's speakers. "The dancers who managed to impress even me, as well as the voting public, and waltz their way to first place: Optimus Prime and Elita One!"
The crowd went wild. Hand in hand, Optimus and Elita stepped forward to bow several times in all directions, accepting the thunderous applause graciously. Then, Hound crossed the stage, presenting what appeared to be the Iacon Trophy. Subtly catching the winners' full attention, he nodded slightly with a strained grin on his faceplate, as if he was trying to tell them something important without actually saying a word.
Looking at Hound for a long moment, then at the trophy, then back to Hound, Optimus and Elita seemed to get the message. At least, they did not react badly when they reached out to take the award and their finger servos touched the empty air of a hologram. Hound calmly projected it passing into their hands, and Optimus mimed raising the illusory trophy over their heads for the approval of the roaring crowd as Elita hugged him gleefully.
"For one last treat," Bumblebee called over the sound system a minute later, gesturing for some semblance of quiet, "Our winners will dance an encore to wrap up this evening's performance!"
Optimus shot Bumblebee a very brief, 'you have got to be kidding me!' expression, but the host just shrugged helplessly as the other competitors quickly exited the stage and the first few strings of Strauss began to play. The winners' encore had been part of the program from the beginning, and after everything they'd done to salvage the show in the aftermath of the Decepticon attack, there was no way that Bumblebee was going to deviate from the plan now.
And so, to the roaring approval of a sellout crowd, rating as the most-watched live television broadcast of the year, Dancing with the Autobots, Season One came to a successful conclusion.
Jazz almost glitched when that 'Season One' phrase eventually sunk in.
O.O.O
Concluded in the Epilogue...
