Sentinel
Author's Foreword:
... eventually the "party" finished and we all went home. For the next few days I have been writing one appointment after another, the series has been unofficially named "Doctor's Appointments". Every day I came up with an appointment, got most of them done within the two weeks time and then I stumbled upon an obstacle - I ran out of ideas for this series. Both saddened and happy, I went to write other fics. C.M.D. on the other hand started writing them much, much later because she was writing Kittycon stuff (it got so ridiculously cuteiliciously bombastically cute and awesome that we both got carried away a little). However we never forgot about our sacred duty, finishing the series and posting it online, WE ALWAYS REMEMBERED!
Amongst the many duties of a CMO, Ratchet also had to, just like everyone else, patrol the city. After a few cycles of driving around the city filled with drivers that fail so bad, it made the medic wonder who let these people drive in the first place. It was never a pleasant experience and the stupid pedestrians J-walking only made Ratchet angrier with the humans.
"They have rules but why won't they slagging follow them! By the All-Spark! How can they be so irresponsible! Ok fine, I should have locked the door so that Bumblebee wouldn't walk in on me, Jetfire and Jetstorm but that was just that one time. ONE time."
Still grumping to himself, Ratchet, with relief, noticed that it was already midnight.
"Good, one more hour and then home for recharge! Hm, this was quite uneventful," the doc smiled, "Just the way I like it."
Making the turn for the final street he had to patrol, the doc maneuvered into a narrow space between some buildings, moving around the garbage cans and thrown out furniture.
"Let's see. Garbage, garbage, oh that is a nice couch, garbage, TV, garbage, Sentinel Prime painted pink and dressed in a tutu, garbage, a bunch of chairs, more gar…," the CMO stopped, "… wait, WHAT?"
Ratchet transformed, turned in his headlights up and walked back to where he thought he saw Sentinel.
"No, it couldn't have been! My optic sensors must be glitching," the medbot widened his optics the more he thought about what he thought he saw. He couldn't help but be amused by it; the arrogant bot would finally be humiliated for all the slag that he gave them the whole time if it was true.
Looking around for over a minute, Ratchet almost decided to give up when he heard loud clanging noises and wood breaking. Rushing to the source of the disturbance, the CMO shone his lights there and froze, with his optics so wide the sensors almost popped out and his jaw lower than it should have been possible for his mold.
"What the …"
There he was, Sentinel, a Prime of the Autobot Forces, the most likely mech to become the next Magnus and the single biggest pain in the aft to ever exist in the whole universe; tied up in something that reminded Ratchet of candy cane, wearing a tutu, partially painted pink with rainbows on the sides topped off by long, rich, golden locks of hair stuck to his helm and lipstick drawn on his massive shoulders in a squiggly 'I am a naughty robot' message.
"Hi."
"Uh … um … eh … uh …"
"Ratchet, buddy! Mind helping me out?"
The CMO wasn't listening; he was trying to process what he saw in front of him. He didn't know whether he should have been laughing from the sheer humiliation of the Prime or crying for the future of the Autobots.
"I will put in a good word for you back on Cybertron and award you with lots of medals if you help out your good old friend Sentinel!"
Slowly coming back to his senses, Ratchet slapped himself a few times to make sure that it was not a dream. Thinking that he may have overloaded his humor programming, or whatever was left of it, he looked back at Sentinel.
"Um, Sentinel, what the slag happened here?"
"Sentinel Prime, let's not forget my rank and I was attacked."
"By Professor Princ…"
"I was attacked by Megatron. This is just a way to bring me down in the eyes o the Autobots so let's keep this as a little secret between you and me. For old times' sake?"
"Bullslag," Ratchet thought, "Megatron would have offlined you a million times by now. Wonder how Professor Princess managed to do this. Oh, never mind, Sentinel is an idiot, that's how. If only I took my camera with me …"
Suddenly, Ratchet caught a red light from the corner of his optic sensor. Looking in that direction, he noticed a human made camera on a nearly destroyed table, pointing at Sentinel and recording everything. He also noticed a tag saying "Property of Detroit University: Arts and Theatre Department. If found please return to Steven Shliemberg, head of Filming department".
"No … slagging … way …"
"You promise not to record anything you saw here?"
"Oh," it took Ratchet all his willpower to restrain his grin, "I promise I won't."
"Another morning, another day to …"
"Sentinel Prime."
"Yes, Ultra Magnus?"
"Would you mind explaining to me how you were beaten by an organic known as Professor Princess?"
"What? Did Ratchet tell you?"
"No, a video was submitted anonymously into the Communications Network and broadcasted all over the galaxy."
"IT WHAT?"
P.S. All the Autobots saw that …
P.P.S. … and the Decepticons too …
P.P.P.S. … and Ratchet uploaded it to the Internet too
Author's Notes:
Holy *bleep*ing Optimus! What the *bleep* was that? Another *bleep*ing appointment? Starscream *bleep*ing awesome! Why don't you *bleep*s all just read that *bleep*ing *bleep* all *bleep*ing over again? Yeah, *bleep*s, you *bleep*ing like that? Oh, *bleep*, you *bleep*ers just *bleep*ing dig this *bleep* up! Aint this fan*bleep*ingtastic? Y'all *bleep*ers know that you *bleep*ing want more! Than why you *bleep*ing reading this? GET YOUR *BLEEP* OFF YOUR *BLEEP*ING CHARI AND *BLEEP*ING CLICK ON THE *BLEEP*ING NEXT *BLEEP*ING PAGE!
What do you do with the text above? Easy! Instead of *bleep* insert words like *pancake* or *glomp* or *DAEM* or *mayonaise* or whatever comes to mind really.
*bleep*ing thanks to C.M.D. for *bleep*ing reviewing and editing this *bleep*! Thank you~
