==Sweet Vibrations==

Bu Ayngel

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I absolutely positively definitely will make no money out of any stories about Transformers

So sorry for the delay with this chapter, and also for not answering any reviews. Work has absorbed much of my time, and I was busy writing My Immortal for Robotbigbang 2012, which involved 42K words in 2 months! Now, however, I can get on with other things. So here - finally - on with the show :D

Thank you all those who continue to read and support this fic. I do have much fun writing it!

Warnings: Smex, nothing explicit in this chapter but there will be. Adult themes, course language (Blame Rumble - he swears a lot).

In this chapter: Mirage and Rumble persevere with their escape whilst Scavenger devises a devious means of catching them. Optimus Prime has many issues to deal with, the Autobots come up with a new distraction, and Prowl makes a surprise call!

~~Chapter 10~~

On the Nemesis Decepticon Base

"The Evaporator!" Megatron crowed. "Such a brilliant device! I have nothing but praise for the Constructicons!" A scheming smile crept over his faceplates. "A contraption that can remove the water from the Earth's oceans, leaving only sodium mud. And the benefits will be all mine!"

Scrapper and his team exchanged uneasy glances. Starscream rolled his optics. "Megatron," Bombshell cut in, "it seems like a very great amount of trouble to go to for one Autobot and, much as Rumble is a valued member of the team …" he gave Soundwave a respectful little bow, "one Decepticon. Why don't you let Shrapnel go after them? He will knock them out with one blast."

Soundwave nodded. "Indeed." He intoned. "Expense of Megatron's proposed operation - disproportionate to outcome. Advise – alternative capture scheme."

"Yes!" Starscream agreed, very happy at this delightfully obstructive 'attitude'. "This whole thing is ridiculous! Why don't you listen? Soundwave is your most trusted minion after all, Megatron!" Soundwave and Bombshell nodded some more. There was still the matter of the not-so-secret escape hatch.

But for once, Megatron did not even pick up on Starscream's belligerence. And he'd forgotten all about the hatch. He began to pace, rubbing his hands in glee.

"Now, we can put into effect our plan! Not only will we capture Mirage, but we will plunder the ocean floor in a way never done before!" he cackled, his optics gleaming. "When I get my hands on those once submerged canyons, Optimus Prime may as well exile himself to deep space after all!"

The Constructicons looked at each other again. "You'd better say something!" Hook whispered.

Scrapper cleared his throat. "Er - Megatron - the point is, we have at present only created a device which will evaporate small quantities of water. A pond, maybe. Or even a lake. An ocean a third the size of the planet is a little – uh – beyond its capabilities. Just as the moment."

Soundwave and Bombshell nodded in agreement. But Megatron appeared undeterred. "You think I don't realize that?" he chuckled. "Calm down, you panic mongers! For once, loyal Decepticons, I am not angry at the lack of completion of this brilliant invention. I know its full potential will be reached!"

Scrapper and Hook exchanged more glances. "What we have here is an excellent opportunity to test the device," Megatron went on. "And we will test it on none other than…." his optics flared, "the precise corner of the ocean where our soon to be Decepticon spy and his 'prisoner' are walking right now!"

"But Megatron," Hook now spoke up. "The problem is, to put this plan into operation we would need a retaining wall. A rather gigantic retaining wall …"

Starscream laughed out loud, and a chortling sound came from Bombshell, as snickers sounded elsewhere. It was then that Megatron's smile vanished, and he darkened. Without looking at the others, he turned to Hook. "Well build one then!" he growled, dangerously. "You're Constructicons, aren't you?"

"We are indeed," Seeing Hook's alarmed expresison, Scrapper took over again. "The problem is, we do not have the resources for such a construction. There is, however, the other alternative, which would be to drill into through the Earth's crust and release lava from the mantle, thus creating a ring of blockading volcanoes."

At that, Megatron's smile returned. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, ignoring the comments of what are you thinking being hissed at Scrapper by the other Constructicons. "Find the resources, Scrapper. I give you full consent to use anything the Decepticons have at their disposal!"

Starscream, his own satisfaction evaporating, had heard enough. "Does it occur in your extremely limited processor, Megatron that if we attempt this it will likely busy our base in lava. Ha!" he threw his hands in the air. "I supposed you're going to tell our loyal soldiers here to construct a new one of those at the same time too!"

There was an uncomfortable silence. The look Megatron gave the second in command was murderous, and the Seeker's face fell as Bombshell and Soundwave took a step back. Meanwhile, sounds of "no way" and "Scrap-per! Now what we gonna do?" came from the Constructicons. Then a softer, higher pitched voice spoke up. "Permission to make a better suggestion?" Scavenger ventured nervously.

The others tried to shush him. But Megatron snapped his gaze from Starscream, quickly scanning the ring of anxious green faces. His optics settled back on Scavenger. "Why not?" he smiled, his voice like sweet poison. "You might even satsfy these pessimistic fools. Suggest!"

…

Meanwhile back on the Ark ...

Removing two capsules from a compartment on the back of his hand, Optimus Prime gulped them down. The Autobot leader already had a processor ache. And it wasn't from the high grade. Taking a deep intake, he tried to make some sense of the chaos erupting around him.

"I have had to confine the Dinobots and immobilize them entirely!" Wheeljack was saying. "My lab is an uproar, but the damage is repairable. This will not be the case, however, if Devastator threatens the Ark while they are down. Prime, I really think it is time for you to let me consider putting together our own gestalt …"

Optimus Prime opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Hell! Wheeljack was one of the greatest techno-scientists in the Universe, and his suggestion was entirely sensible. But Prime really could not deal with something like that just now!

In any case, his audials were being furiously assaulted elsewhere. To his left, Ratchet was carping on about Red Alert's lack of suitability as senior security officer. "He's got a whole right through his left shoulder, Prime. But he brought it on himself. How many times have I told him to wear a bullet proof vest? Even with our own, y'just never know. 'Specially when there's a popped mech on the loose… "

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, an argument was in progress:

"What I'm sayin' is, the Gard Nordic Records were falsified. Just in case the enemy got a hold of 'em, and tried to duplicate our replication codes," Brawn was shouting. He wore a look Prime had seen many times before – but never with his fellow minibots. Behind him, Cliffjumper nodded smugly. But the other red minibot 'facing up' was far less impressed.

"Darned rubbish!" Gears roared. "What in the name of the Karn Mountains would the Decepticons want with our replication programming?"

"Plenty!" snapped Brawn. "They coulda used it to create a mutant strain of Decepticon minibots. So the Grand Council made a decision. An' I know it was carried out. Cos I did the falsifying!"

Optimus Prime felt a hand on his arm. "Prime? Are you listening? Slag is a valuable asset!" the tone was sharp. Such was the situation that now even Wheeljack was annoyed.

"Prime? I'd be obliged if you'd make a decision on this….?" Hands on hips, Ratchet glared. Prime was far less surprised that he was ticked off, but oh, how he could have done without it. And Red Alert's inadequacies.

The Autobot Leader turned away, tuning out the voices. His processor reverberated with cacaphonic chaos. How, when he was only absent for a few breems, had things managed to get to this state? It only furthered the depressing reality that without him the Autobots were hopeless. Directionless. It was apalling!

It was, however, something which no matter what else - Prime's hands balled into fists - could not and would not ever come to his brother's attention. No – he must pull himself together and deal with this; for that reason if no other.

"Pitspawn!" Gears was yelling. "It's a little too convenient you turn out not to be a relation now ain't it? Well I wanna point out - there is one obvious state of affairs - Bee's yellow!"

"Colour's got slag all to do with it!" yelled Cliffjumper.

"SHUT THE FRAG UP!" mercifully, Ironhide had appeared. He glowered around. As always, among all of them, the voice of reason had spoken. A silence fell, the group moving apart, angry exclamations reducing to mutterings. Wheeljack and Ratchet turned away, still complaining, but quietly. Gears stormed from the room, Cliffjumper and Brawn in pursuit.

Prime heaved a sigh of relief. He thought briefly of his sanctuary and the Partridge Family, and wished he'd brought the premium grade down with him. "Ironhide," he clapped an arm around the veteran's shoulders. "Thank Primus you're here!"

"It's not that I'm oblivious to the concerns of Ratchet and Wheeljack," Prime went on, but the important thing is that we get everyone back and that neither the Decepticons or the humans find out about our - disarray. I want you to go out there and for you and Prowl to arrest any unruly Autobots, and bring Bumblebee in!"

"But Prime!" Ironhide protested. "Their circuitry's gone haywire an' Prowl's runnin' wild right along there with them. Besides which – we ain't gonna have enough room in the brig!"

Why did they always have to complicate matters? And why did he always have to make the decisions? The leader cast Ironhide a deep blue stare. "Prowl's enforcer coding will carry him through," he reassured Ironhide, hoping that he was right about this. "And with you there too, the others will fall into line. Especially when I tell them …"

Prime hesitated, not really liking what he was about to say, but concluding that it was the only real option. If only, in fact, he had just pursued this course before.

"Especially when you tell 'em what, Prime?" Ironhide's optic ridges furrowed.

"That I will place Bumblebee in special custody and I will …" Prime took a deep intake, "sort out this situation myself. Once their quarry is gone, the problem shall be at an end."

At that, Ironhide's optics widened like saucers. "But Prime, that doesn't mean you're gonna do – what I think you're gonna do?" he asked incredulously. "And what about Mirage?"

Oh darn, Prime had forgotten that. Well it could wait. Prime was sure Mirage would be all right – he always was. As for his part in this? It had already been over.

"Seaspray will pick up Mirage," Prime said, hoping the boat had remembered this. "Other than that …" he sighed, laying a hand on his old comrade's arm. "Being leader is not an easy task. It brings many challenges, Ironhide, including tasks which one would rather not undertake, and should not have delegated in the first place. But sometimes, in the line of duty, one just has to 'bite the bullet!"

Ironhide nodded, smugly relieved that this was one task Mirage would not, evidently, be entrusted with after all. And rather pleased that Gears wouldn't get his way either. Whatever he may have thought about the situation, he wouldn't have wished that on Bumblebee. "All in the line of duty …" he muttered.

"Yes, Ironhide!"

The veteran could not help but see a gleam in Prime's optics, just the same.

…..

Back in town, somewhere in Oregon, USA

Of course, the Autobot leader was right about Prowl. And it would have been of some relief to both he and Ironhide as they did allow themselves a tipple of 'grade, that whatever else, Prime did know his troops well.

For Prowl had not, in fact, raged after his fellow Autobots. He had preceded more slowly, arriving in the backstreets just in time to see a terrified couple of humans leap from the path of a speeding blue and red Datsun. Tyres screeched, and the smell of burning rubber rose into the air. The humans had scuttled into a building, others scattering as Bluestreak roared past, oblivious to Prowl's presence and closely followed by Smokescreen, who had rounded the corner just after.

That was enough for Prowl's enforcer program to cut in, together with a profound sense of shame. His Datsun cousins were not only sex maniacs – they were hoons! And he, Prowl, very nearly hadn't behaved much better. He was going to have to give both of the others a stern talking to when all this had settled down. That would be followed by a thorough defragmentation of his own processor, and severe self remonstrations.

There being no sign of Bumblebee - not even a signature - a profound sense of guilt settled. Then, Prowl had thought of Spike. He had straight away commed the human.

It was now of extreme concern that neither Spike nor his friend Chip - who mercifully was all right after that other debacle - did not seem to have seen Bumblebee at all. Prowl's guilt deepened further at the thought that the minibot, overwhelmed by unwelcome 'attention' might have…

Oh no. Prowl could hardly bear to think it. Surely Bumblebee wouldn't have done something to himself? Popping was such a delicate time.

Worried and only just managing to stick to the speed limit, burning too much oil and his engine tappets ticking as they were inclined to when Prowl was uptight, the Autobot second in command headed into town.

Prowl paused in the Town Square and transformed. Word of the Autobot escapade had obviously spread; for whereas he would ordinarily have been instantly surrounded here by chattering humans wanting autographs and the like, they were avoiding him. The square emptied as furtive glances were cast in his direction.

Prowl spotted the podium where the medal giving ceremony had happened. He thought of Chip, collapsed and unconscious in his wheelchair, and a pain went through his spark. If only that ribbon thing hadn't been so slippery, and he'd been able to hand the medal over in a more competent manner, all this would never have happened!

Still, the point was not to lament and wail, but to make up for it now. To get human confidence in the Autobots right back to before the presentation. In fact, Prowl would take it upon himself to set the standard at a new found high. With this in mind, he activated his comm.

"Autobots" he informed them. "This is Prowl. Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing, you will stop it immediately, and rendezvous in the Town Square. I will meet you here in precisely four thousand astroseconds."

But to Prowl's dismay, laughter resounded back down the comm; together with various responses, none of which were ones Prowl wished to hear. "Lighten up, Prowlie! I reckon we're getting' warm!" was Jazz's final remark.

This was no good! A distraction was clearly required. A big distraction. And straight away. Prowl sighed. There was nothing for it. He would have to put into action the plan he'd thought of before; the one he'd really been thinking of when he told the others that the truce was over. Even if – he thought ashamedly – the idea had been to draw off the others while he pursued Bumblebee himself.

Opening his comm, Prowl tuned to the Decepticon frequency. Then he tuned to a particular Decepticon frequency, one which could not fail to send waves of excitement through him, even though he knew how shocking that was, and even though now – of all times – was hardly right for such inappropriate secret thoughts.

Although Prowl realized then why he had maybe gotten disporportionately worked up over Bumblebee ….

"Come in, Starscream!" he said crisply, determined to be businesslike, but tingling as he said it. Oh yes, the Autobots would soon find themselves all very distracted.

….

On the ocean floor, somewhere in the Pacific ...

Mirage strode purposefully along, his feet kicking up little flurries of sand which swirled around the rocks strewn here and there on the ocean floor. Rumble found himself running to keep up, and nearly tripped over said rocks on more than one occasion.

"Miserable slagger!" he muttered, stumbling again. This is probably pit anyway. I should just turn around and get the hell back to base. Then he remembered what Mirage had offered – and Mirage's 'abilties' at his 'capture'.

Instead of remonstrating, Rumble boosted his thrusters and lifted off the seabed, moving alongside the pacing form. A least, he thought smugly, thrusters were something Mirage didn't have.

Mirage smiled, but said nothing. The stuck up aft! Nevertheless, as Rumble coasted along, he became more and more conscious of the elegance and attractiveness of the blue and white form striding beside him. Grudgingly, he had to admit, Mirage was a looker. And talented. And – Rumble clenched his fists, thinking of when they'd opened the chamber – the slagger felt good.

Well of course he did! Primus on his throne - Rumble had to be about the only Con on the base that didn't practically have an overload at the mention of Mirage. They all raved on about how 'hot' he was, and how he had had heaps of frag buddies; that actually, he didn't just frag, he made love -which was a bit unconnish but Sigma, the pithead was good, they reckoned. He was an 'expert' by all accounts.

All Alphas were, they said. Which was impressive. Especially given that he, Rumble ….

The cassette realized then, balefully, that even if he wasn't being lured into a trap right now to be chained up and laughed at by Autobozos (which was, he had to admit, probable, even though he didn't want to think about it) he was doomed. Why? Because he knew sod all about love. Or lovemaking.

Which wasn't his fault. Hell, no! He'd never slaggin' been in love, had he? And Soundwave had been no help on that score. Neither had Frenzy, or Ravage, or any of his 'family.' But that wasn't the point.

The point was - now it came to the crunch - what did you do with the love of your life? Apart from fragging him. But no – you didn't just launch into that either, did you? Rumble remembered how careful he'd been not to bang on about that in the poetry.

No – you sorta stared into their optics and sprouted stuff like in that poetry. Yeah, that was it. Wasn't that what he'd lain around for days, writing the cogsuckin' stuff for?

But the other Cons never said nothin' about doing that. And if they saw the poetry, he'd be a laughing stock. No, Rumble still didn't know. His thrusters whirred despairingly. How ever was he to impress Bee? Then, he had an idea. Surely, while they were here, wasn't Mirage the best mech to ask about all this? Besides – the cassette scowled - there was hardly anyone else to ask, was there?

Clearing his vocaliser, Rumble moved a little closer. "So – uh – about Bumblebee," he said. "I guess you'd have a bit to do with him?" A shudder went through him. I said his name! Oh pit, he did have it bad.

Mirage, who had been trying unsuccessfully to comm Seaspray, was amused. There was such an eager note in Rumble's vocaliser, Entertaining, this was, even given the increasingly uncomfortable situation and the fact that even though the water should have been getting shallower, it was, in fact, deepening.

"Yes I do, as it happens!" Mirage said.

It was a pity about that frickin' voice. Rumble wondered what Mirage would sound like with his posh vocaliser crushed under a piledriver. But no – he had to correct himself. Be nice to the slagger…

Nevertheless, he moved back. It still wouldn't do for Mirage to think he was too keen. And he ought to also do something about showing that the poetry didn't matter half the slag so much as Mirage thought.

"Is Bee – y'know – seein' anyone?" Dang it, that probably sounded too keen. But Rumble ought to know. Had to know. Needed to know what level he should be up to. And Oh Primus, it still was worth entertaining a hope that he would be the first, wasn't it?

"I'd hardly have gone to the trouble I have, if he already had a suitor, now would I, Rumble?"

The smart afted git! Rumble gritted his denta. "Yeah - well - I just wondered if I'm gonna have a dozen Autobozos trying to punch my lights out, didn't I?" It was, Rumble surmised, a perfectly reasonable question.

Mirage thought of the behaviour of his fellow Autobots, of Prowl and Jazz with their glossae hanging out, the snickers in the rec room and the outright displays of lustful behaviour. "Oh I daresay you'll have that" he smirked. "But I'm sure you're well and truly up to defending your true love's honour are you not?"

"Eh?" Rumble hadn't even thought of that. But now it came to it, anger seared through the cassette, an uncontrollable surge worse even than what he'd felt for Skywarp that time the Seeker made a statue of him and sprayed it pink.

"Well I just want you to know that they're gonna be history!" He roared before he could stop himself. "Nothin' I ever did to them anywhere is gonna compare to the state of their slagged up frames when I've finished!"

Memories of being fiercely desired - and defended - crossed Mirage's processor, and the spy smiled sadly. It had been a long time since such sentiments were expressed over him. This really was rather sweet. He thought of Shrapnel, and wondered if anything more would actually ever come of that – other than it being an episode of intense titillation.

But the racer couldn't resist stirring Rumble. "You really are keen," he said. "First, poetry, and now, what is this? Duals at dawn?"

Rumble felt like grabbing the piece of pit, yanking him to a halt and giving Mirage a demo; seeing what that nosecone looked like driven into the ground. But he couldn't. That was the darned trouble - he couldn't."Yeah! Well I want you to know, that stuff I wrote - it's only cos Autobots like that stoopid pit, ain't it? I mean, I wasn't gonna get anywhere if I just fronted up, was I?"

"Get anywhere? You mean you are, after all, interested in a purely sexual liaison with Bumblebee, but wrote those lines just to lure him in?" Mirage asked politely.

The water was growing darker, more gloomy. Mirage dodged a sea snake which slithered in front of him. Sharks, rays and other unsavoury sea critters coasted around them. He was rather glad of this conversation. As he grew more uneasy, it was proving a distraction, as well as useful.

"Yeah!" Rumble said. After all, that was what a con should say wasn't it? Then, he paled. Of course it wasn't in this situation. Now what would Mirage think? "I mean …"

Oh no, Rumble had to admit it, "It'd be kinda nice if there was other stuff!" the cassette growled.

Mirage hid his delight. "Other stuff? Bumblebee has only newly shed his primary phase one interface cover. You should tell me what you mean by that term."

Rumble thought he might pass out with the surge of desire that went through him. His thrusters gave a sharp whine. So Bumblebee hadn't had a first, yet! "Er - kissing. Saying stuff. Whispering sweet nothings, all that scrap …" he said weakly. Sigma! If only Mirage hadn't said 'interface' quite like that.

But Mirage didn't answer. A long moment went past and he still didn't answer. Anger descended on the cassette again, as he started to feel like a jerk. "Hell I dunno, do I?" He growled. "I'm a cassette not a slaggin' bond guidance counsellor. You know all the answers. Why don't ya fraggin' tell me?"

But Mirage wasn't listening. For his uneasiness had increased tenfold. The water was deeper than ever, he could not even see the surface above; surely that wasn't right? Ahead, it was murky, a large shape looming up in the gloom. Mirage recognized, as they drew closer, the wreck of a ship. He stopped, looking around him, instantly setting the electro-disruptor to standby and priming his rockets and rifle.

Rumble couldn't believe it. Could Mirage really, cut him off, be so totally inattentive at a time like this? He really was an aft.

"Forget I even mentioned it!" the cassette yelled.

…..

Back on the Nemesis ...

Scavenger trembled as Megatron stood over him, hands on hips. The leader's mouth spread in a firm line.

Bonecrusher and Hook appeared either side of their team mate, each laying a hand on his arm. Soundwave and Bombshell looked at each other. Annoyance flickered on Megatron's faceplates. "Well?" he thundered.

Scavenger glanced nervously at the others. His shovel tail twitched, and Long Haul reached out to stroke the shaft, soothingly. Starscream smirked, greatly amused. Oh how ironic it was that the components of Megatron's most powerful robot could not even function under normal circumstances without touching each other up!

Scavenger spoke. "I sometimes play near the Abyss," he said. "I've been collecting stuff. Wrecked ships an' things."

"Y-yeah!" Mixmaster cut in. "S-s-sometimes we wreck 'em!" Megatron glared at the mixer, who was silent instantly. The leader looked back at Scavenger. "What has this to do with anything?" he snapped.

Scavenger cowered. Scrapper took over. "He was worried about his stuff getting stolen," he said. "We couldn't really see why anyone would steal it, but we put up surveillance cameras just the same. It uh –" he glanced at Hook, who nodded. "It saved him wandering around out there in the middle of the night."

His earlier euphoria now almost non existent, Megatron turned away. Pacing across the room, he scraped his hands across his helm. One moment these mechs were about to deliver the ultimate weapon to conquer the universe, the next, they were running around in the night playing with human boats and junk? And fixing up cameras?

At that moment, Megatron actually envied his brother Prime – who surely didn't have to put up with this sort of nonsense. At least most of the Autobots were relatively sane compared to his lot. "And the point being?" he roared, rounding on them again.

"The c-cameras just showed up Mirage and Rumble headed that way," Scavenger stammered. "An' there's another thing. I dug this pit. To catch criminals – you know - anyone that might wanna nick my stuff. They're headed straight for it. We could drive them in!" Gentle hands patted his panels. "Well done!" Long Haul whispered.

Soundwave and Bombshell made sounds of approval, as Megatron's good mood returned almost immediately. "Splendid, Scavenger!' he roared. "Did I not say the Constructicons were the greatest mechanical devices the Decepticons had ever built?" He smiled, warmly. "I suggest you get yourselves out there right away. You can have the honour of bringing in the traitors!"

Disappointed, Starscream scowled. Oh how much easier his takeover would be if he could just keep them at each others' throats! But Soundwave stiffened. "Suggest attendance," he intoned. "Apprehension of Mirage - tricky. Constructicons - inferior. Estimation – not capable. Soundwave – superior. Highly capable."

Bombshell was nodding agreement. "Splendid idea!" he said. "I suggest we take Shrapnel for backup."

But the Constructicons were bristling, furious mutterings erupting through their ranks. Bonecrusher moved form their midst, his fists clenched. "If you're suggesting we need a bunch of bugs to help us …"

"Pardon me!" Bombshell looked affronted. "It is strictly not within inter-sector protocols to refer to us in those terms. The Sector three intra galactic council will have to be informed of this!"

"Why you …" As he lunged at the Insecticon, the others only just grabbed Bonecrusher , who found the beetle's large cerebroshell loaded horn pointing threateningly in his direction, Soundwave standing by. Everyone was completely unaware of Megatron's incredulous expression.

Starscream turned away, smirking. One of the wonders of being a Decepticon was that things so quickly changed for the better. He looked at the fish circulating outside through the round portal. "Yess!" he whispered.

It was only then that the Seeker became aware that his comm was going off. Probably, it had been for a while, as he'd put it on silent mode so as to give this situation his attention. A smile twisted the Seeker's mouth. What an unexpected asset! It was an Autobot frequency. And Starscream knew exactly which one.

Scrapper was begging Bombshell not to shoot, whilst Megatron was roaring 'silence' and then yelling at the Constructicons to 'just get out there.' Then they were leaving; meanwhile, Bombshell seemed to have changed tack. He was raving on about where was Kickback? And then about 'rights' whilst Megatron, now scarlet in the face, was yelling about reconsidering the alliance whilst Soundwave paced despairingly. "Rumble …" he intoned again and again, wringing his hands.

Starscream watched them, letting the comm ring a few more times. Then, he answered it. /Prowl, my good friend!/ he said, a little more enthusiastically than he had intended, but well – things were turning out rather splendidly. /What can I do for you?/

/Starscream – I need your assistance./

/I'd be delighted!/ the Seeker said. Despite Prowl's 'tone,' he hoped it was the sort of assistance he had in mind.

…

Back in Town ...

Finding no trace of Bumblebee, the Autobots were running out of steam. And it was probably not so much the futile chase, but the fact that deep down they really did respect the law, and humans, and were more than a little afraid or Prowl in enforcer mode, and most definitely didn't want to end up in the brig. With this thought simultaneously in mind, they headed for the now deserted Town Square.

But when they got there, Prowl was nowhere to be seen. The Autobots transformed, flopping down on the grass and on the various concrete edifices which adorned the human gathering place. "I'm over it anyway!" Sunstreaker growled. "Now I think about it, what's the deal with newbies? They're boring!"

Reaching into an arm compartment, the golden twin brought out a bundle of small high grade cubes. "I came prepared," he chuckled, in a much better mood. There was nothing like a good rampage through narrow streets to burn off excess charge. "Seeing as how Prowl ain't here, anyone want one?"

There were noises of appreciation and the clanking of metal, as most of the other Autobots joined him on the grass next to the podium. Jazz, feeling guilty now himself, abstained. He found himself looking at Bluestreak, who sat down next to him on the edge of the fountain.

"Where d'you suppose Bee is?" Bluestreak asked. He was tired now, and a little apprehensive; for wasn't that Prowl who'd been standing there after he nearly knocked over those humans? His doorwings twitched, nervously. There'd be hell to pay when his cousin turned up.

Jazz was frowning. "Weird," he said. "Ain't no energy signature n'Teletraan one's telling us Bee ain't even on the planet!"

Bluestreak 's optics widened. "D'you reckon the cons have captured him?" he wittered. "I mean – even if they didn't, he could have turned traitor, and got on the spacebridge, and gone back to Cybertron, and be talking to them right now, and …"

"Na!" Jazz said. "Even in a popp'd state, Bee wouldn't do that. An' the cons are stuck on their base. Ain't no spacebridge activity."

"It's us!" Bluestreak wailed, the enormity of what he had done suddenly descending. "We chased Bumblebee away!" Jazz moved closer and put an arm around his shoulders. "There there!" he said.

Bluestreak shuddered. Jazz brightened. His hand wandered down the gunner's side, and on to the red thigh. Just because the chase was over for now, didn't mean his charge had gone – in fact it was rather high; what with Bee and the uncomfortably unrequited situation with Prowl in the Ark corridor, Prowl's now obvious displeasure and the unlikelihood of 'getting it' for some time to come.

"Wanna see if there's an empty building somewhere?" Jazz whispered.

Meanwhile, the other Autobots were grumbling. "The trouble is, the reason we're like this, there hasn't been enough action lately," Sunstreaker was complaining, as helms nodded. "Or variety. I ain't seen Thundercracker for ages."

"I agree!" Sideswipe sighed. "It's the same with Skywarp. When I think of how our jet judo sessions used to be like and how they are now. It's pathetic!"

You know, if I don't see Scrapper at least once a month, it really sets my creative equilibrium calibrators on edge," Grapple, who had only half sparkedly participated in the chase, and had been deep in thoughts of his own, now spoke up. "Scavenger's very cute. And I really do enjoy those chats with Hook. Such a keen optic for detail!"

"Yeah!" Windcharger said. "Ya kinda need a bit of con sometimes!" He was the only minibot who had joined them. Somebody had to stand up for Bee's honour if they did find him, he'd figured; and although Windcharger had had no idea how he would do that, it was much more fun roaring around the streets than watching Brawn and Gears get into a fists up.

"Reckon that's why Prowl's so tetchy," Sideswipe snickered. "He hasn't been the same since that time with Starscream."

"Will you stop talking about this!" Smokescreen spoke up with a wail. "It's making me miss Swindle!"

"And me Brawl!" growled Warpath

Passing with Bluestreak, Jazz paused, distracted by the conversation. "Y'know, I gotta admit. I'm much better when I'm payin' Soundwave regular visits," he agreed as Smokescreen and Warpath threw up their hands in despair.

Bluestreak, a little disappointed that things had ended so abruptly before they had even begun, nevertheless was intrigued. He'd long harboured secret hopes of romantic Con-type entanglements. "Why don't we throw a party and invite them?" he suggested.

There were sounds of approval. "Great idea!" Sideswipe piped up. "It'll keep us out of Prowl's wires circuits he deals with Bumblebee!"

"Yeah!" Sunstreaker was on his feet and had whipped out his comm. "Shall I make the call?"

But there was no need; for at that moment Prowl's voice cut into all of their processors simultaneously. "Autobots! This is a Code Red override. Repeat, Code Red override. The Decepticons are attacking. Battle unit to assemble immediately at the south beach!"

The cheer which went up was deafening. Transformation noises echoed enthusiastically amid the tink of discarded cubes on concrete, shortly before, en masse, the Autobots roared towards the ocean.

Ironhide, arriving shortly after, looked at the litter and just shook his head. "Oh no," he muttered. "Now where have that pitspawned rabble gone?" He decided he should have gone to visit Beachcomber after all.

…

Back on the ocean floor, somewhere in the Pacific ...

Mirage definitely had a bad feeling about things now. An eerie quality had descended, and he saw through the green gloom the shadows of more human ships and what looked like submarines. Huge sea creatures coasted between the abandoned and decaying hulks. Worse, a growing conviction was taking hold in Mirage's processor that they were not alone.

Yet no signatures were showing up. Not that they did, properly, at this depth; a curse, as was the fact, as Mirage had just discovered, that he was totally unable to activate the electro disruptor. Great timing. He tried comming Seaspray again. Darn it, even the comms didn't work in this Primus forsaken place!

Meanwhile Rumble, glancing around, saw that they were in Scavenger's playground. What in the name of a Quint's aft were they doing here? Well hell – it wasn't his job to question the stoopid Autobozo was it? "Wot now?" he said, still furious that the dork of an Alphamech had chosen to ignore he, Rumble, in his passionate plea for romantic assistance.

But a sudden delightful thought did occur. This might be where Mirage had Bee hidden. It was a weird proposition, but aside from their other attributes, Alphas were also were weird. Everybody said so.

Mirage glanced around, taking in as much as he could. Rumble did seem surprised, nevertheless, this could easily be a trap. He was conscious of Rumble brushing himself down, removing some seaweed which was entangled in his cassette tray. "Where are we?" Mirage asked.

Rumble could hardly believe his audios. Bad enough that he'd been cut off at the crucial moment. Now this? "You don't know?" he sneered, removing a fish from the top of his pelvic seam. Then he registered Mirage's less than amused 'look.' "Scavenger's hangout – near the Abyss," he said. "But don't go gettin' no souvenirs. It jacks him off. Then the rest of the Constructijerks get jacked off. It ain't pleasant."

Mirage vented, in an attempt to mask his anxiety and also his growing irritability. They'd come in completely the wrong direction! He never was any good at underwater orientation. (Well he hated water, for pity's sake!)

And this place was – well – Mirage had heard stories about Scavenger's 'unusual' collective tastes. And whilst, according to Grapple, they were 'only rumours,' he shuddered, thankful he couldn't see the true nature of all the junk out there. He certainly would pass on the souvenirs.

Rumble was smirking. "I thought your sorts didn't do things like get lost!" he sneered.

"I don't in most terrains," Mirage said smoothly. "But I'm not familiar with this environment. You're one who lives down here!"

"An' you're the smarty pants tryina abduct a Decepticon!" How dare he! Rumble clenched his fists.

But Mirage wasn't listening again. His senses were trained on the nearest hulk. For he was sure he had caught movement, a figure sliding in the shadows. Drawing his gun, he started to walk slowly forward.

There were still no signatures. Darn it! Where was Seaspray? And why hadn't the boat ever said anything about this? Had he really been so busy with his mer-lovers?

Rumble was thinking too. Maybe he should transform right now and start pounding Scavenger's 'collection' to smithereens? His collection. What a joke!

Bee obviously wasn't here, but he was bound to be impressed. Mirage could tell him about it. Yeah! It was normally a surefire recipe to becoming instant Constructijunk – but hey, Scrapper and his Constructijerks weren't here. He, Rumble, was moving on to better things. Placing his piledrivers on standby mode, he started to follow Mirage.

It was too late that he remembered the cameras, had the awful realization that the Constructijerks probably knew they were here. (Darn it – and to think he'd helped Viewfinder install the things. That was how preoccupied he'd been lately.) It was too late also when he saw the shadowy green and purple figures lurking by the ships, heard familiar laughter coming from that direction.

Mirage fired, but the targets ducked back, reappearing immediately; and suddenly all the Constructicons were there, and weapons were pointing at them, and – oh no, this couldn't be happening – the ground was giving way.

"Rumble!" boost your thrusters and get us out of here!" he heard Mirage yell, astroseconds before they both plunged into the pit.
…..

Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter - what's happened to Bee? (And Spike, and Chip) :DD