Okay, here we are again! xD
Apologies for the slow update, but I've been doing lots of things like organising another trip to see ROTF. Research for a fic (naturally).
I might not be able to get a chapter up for a while, but I'll try my hardest- I have a busy week coming up. My cousins are coming to stay. :P
Anyway! Chapter Ten! Like, WOW. This prompts a thank you to all you reviewers. You're beautiful, you're beautiful.
Perched on a cabinet, Jazz swung his legs merrily. Ratchet had scowled his way off to check on Jetfire a while back, and Prowl was recharging, a tiny smile on his faceplates.
The silver mech hopped to the ground and peeked outside.
Optimus was still flat out on the floor. Ratchet had forgotten he was there- how, he didn't know-, and Jazz himself couldn't move him somewhere more convenient than the middle of the corridor. He barely came up to the mech's knee, for Primus' sake.
Jazz returned to his cabinet with a sigh. Prowl jolted awake, optics snapping open.
"Ah, sorry, Prowler...! Didn't mean t-"
"Someone is in direct contradiction of Rule 15."
You just didn't question Prowl's mysteriously innate and accurate ability to know. Jazz had been caught out many times by this instinct.
Pursing his lips, Jazz refreshed his memory.
Rule 15
No fighting. Anywhere, for any reason.
P.S. Arcee, this includes, for lack of a better word, 'cat-fights'. This encompasses slapping, clawing, yanking, and, Primus forbid, gouging. Yes, I am picking you out, but that's because you are the only one who actually does these things. Do I sound like I give a frag if this sounds slightly sexist?
P.P.S. A worthwhile and genuine excuse, Hot Rod, is not: "Bumblebee rolled his optics at me."
Rule 15b
No using your comrades as target practice.
P.S. Ironhide.
Prowl didn't like the way that Jazz's grin had suddenly frozen. "You know who it is?"
"What's the bet that it's Sunny and Sides?"
The black and white groaned. "Likely."
"...Especially considering Mudflap and Skids have returned."
"Jazz! You let them go, knowing that they'd run into those two?"
"I didn't know!"
"They always do!"
A loud crash suddenly distracted them.
"Woah!"
"Who put Prime here? There should be a sign, or something."
Said mech suddenly spoke. "Will you get off...?"
Prowl and Jazz watched as the twins entered, followed by a sleepy-looking Optimus.
"Why were you recharging on the floor?" Sides asked.
"You were supposed to be watching Prowlie! And besides, you could have ruined-"
Optimus attempted to defend himself. "I was already on the floor, so-"
Jazz raised an optic ridge. "You didn't think it would be comfier on a berth?"
"Well, I couldn't-"
Ratchet bustled in. "You were recharging on the floor?!"
"Well, the sedative wore off, and-"
"Your energy levels are low," the CMO interrupted, scanning him. "And your anxiety and stress levels indicate-"
Optimus shut his optics, and a low growl escaped him, shuddering through his frame. "I am fine. Never better. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe-"
The twins handed over their data-pads very quickly. Prime didn't look like a mech to be messed with at this point.
Ratchet narrowed his optics dangerously. "You're over-working yourself. If this continues, I'll have to take action."
Not particularly interested in having to listen to Ratchet fuss over their commander, the twins turned to the other occupant of the room. "So Jazz- no one came in?"
The silver mech thought. "No, besides Ratchet."
"No one came in and delivered him any... W O R K?"
"Definitely not." It was the truth, in a way. No one had actually entered the room and given him work. Jazz was in the room originally.
"And he didn't manage to escape and get any?"
"Nope."
"Did he mention the word?" It was whispered, as if Prowl couldn't hear.
"Nope." This was true, also. Prowl hadn't said anything.
Sunny gasped with joy. Sideswipe jumped on Prowl's berth and hugged him in delight. "Oh, Prowlie...!"
"We knew you had it in you-"
"You've started to beat your addiction-"
"It just goes to show, that we're the best-"
"You can't give up now, Prowlie. You have to keep at it-"
"We'll stand by you, so you definitely won't fall-"
"WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU, PROWLIE!" the twins wailed happily, squeezing him from either side of the berth in one giant hug.
Prowl cringed guiltily, and his optics met Jazz's, who looked away, whistling.
Looking back at the attached mechs, he saw a slight dent in Sunny's armour. Sides had a small scratch on his arm.
"Twins," Prowl began, optics narrowing just like Ratchet's. "Have you got something to tell me?"
Sunstreaker stiffened, and replied to the ceiling. "Noo, we haven't, have we, Sides?"
The silver brother looked up at Prowl, who was watching him very closely. "N- I'm sorry, Prowlie!" He buried his helm under the other mech's arm with a slight sob.
Sunny sighed. Good one, bro.
I can't lie to him, Sunny! His gaze bore through me!
...His gaze bore through you.
I don't see you looking straight at him, his twin sniffled.
Sunstreaker pouted. It can't be that bad. He looked at Prowl. On seeing the older mech's expression, he twitched once, then drooped miserably. "Sorry, Prowlie. We couldn't help it."
"Was it the other twins?" Prowl asked.
They nodded.
"What was it this time?"
Sides looked up, hopefully. "We- we did walk away, at first-"
"And then they crossed the line." Sunny wasn't going to pretend he wasn't angry.
"They crossed the line." His twin was equally passionate.
"They crossed the line, Prowlie, the line."
"The one line we have."
"We even took their low, low hits-"
"The hit to our intelligence-"
"The hit to our pride-"
"The hit to our interfacing abilities-"
"Which, by the way, are perfectly-"
"Twins!" Prowl interrupted them. "You digress!"
Sideswipe looked miserably at his brother, who continued. "And we were walking away-"
"We were walking away."
"Away." Prowl's helm snapped back and forth between the two like a spectator at particularly fast Wimbledon match.
"And then they crossed the line."
"The Line, Prowlie. The Line."
You could just hear the capital letters.
"Enough of 'the line'! I don't even care what it was! Whatever it was, it wasn't and isn't worth fighting your comrades over."
Sunny pouted. "Is too."
"Don't start the immaturity."
Sides tried to help. "But, Prowlie, you're the li-"
"I don't want to hear about you fighting with the twins again, you hear me?"
Jazz nearly melted. Prowl was the line? "Awwwwww-!"
He was given odd glances by every other occupant of the room. They clearly hadn't heard what Sideswipe had said.
Optimus made the Cybertronian equivalent of cracking his knuckles. "I'm going to have a word with some twin-shaped tic-tacs."
Jazz choked. Who knew the boss-bot had such a witty side?
Prowl paused in his berating. "I want them sent up here, Prime."
"Will do, Prowl."
Ratchet frowned, and opened his mouth to say something.
Optimus intervened gently. //Not right now, Ratch. They need to work through this.//
"You've let me down, boys," Prowl said quietly.
The twins visibly wilted.
The other mechs left Team Three to it; Optimus and Jazz on a mission to find Mudflap and Skids, Ratchet to thrash Red Alert at chess.
In all honesty, it hadn't been hard to find the twins. They were limping to the medbay when Optimus descended on them, looking very ominous.
"Mudflap, Skids. It's nice to see you looking so... well."
"We's tripped." Mudflap reasoned it wouldn't be good to admit to 'fighting' with the other pair of brothers.
"We's fell waaay down some stair." Skids elaborated.
"You fell down some stairs?" Optimus repeated. Somehow, he just seemed to emanate darkness.
"Some crazy stairs."
"Real steep. Dere were some lot of 'em."
"...Hm. Have to get that seen to. Say, Jazz, I didn't realise we even had stairs on base."
"Same here, Prime. But I guess if they say they fell down these crazy stairs, they wouldn't be lying." The Head of Special Operations emerged from nowhere behind them, cutting off any escape route.
The twins realised they were in trouble.
"No. They wouldn't lie," the commander agreed.
//Not when deliberately lying to or misleading a superior contradicts Rule 65,// Prowl cut in.
How he was hearing, nobody knew.
"Not when I'm feeling so annoyed," Optimus continued darkly, taking a step towards them and looming over the unfortunate siblings.
//I guess height can be a useful thing,// Jazz sighed, craning his helm up to view the threatening effect properly. //You should impose yourself on idiots more often.//
//I'll keep that in mind.//
"'Kay, waits!" Skids gestured frantically.
"Maybe we's were fightin'!"
"With the oda' twins-"
"Dey started it!"
Optimus grabbed both twins by their scruffs, and hoisted them into the air. "Someone wants a word with you."
At the end of possibly one of the weariest orns of his life, Optimus sat down at his desk.
The instant Mudflap and Skids had been thrown into Prowl's room, Sunny and Sides had aggressively leapt up with a synchronised snarl.
Eventually, Prowl had managed to get them to sit down.
That basically summarised the 'meeting'.
The twins irritated the twins, who then irritated Prowl when they responded.
Undoubtedly, this was still happening. Prowl somehow had kept his patience, but Ratchet had demanded- ordered Optimus to go and recharge, or something nasty would happen.
Optimus shuddered. He didn't doubt the CMO's words at all.
Before he did go to recharge, he'd do some berth-time reading. Those data-pads would be perfect.
He pulled the first one from sub-space.
The hand-writing was bold and large. It belonged to Hot Rod, according to the number of varying flourishing signatures on the first page. Optimus looked at the first question.
Q: When you think of Bumblebee, what instantly comes to mind?
A: When I think of Bumblebee, I see myself at his age- so naive. A tender age. He really needs a role-model. Of course, I am a suitable candidate. I'm intelligent, courageous, dammed handsome, agile, powerful-
Wasn't Hot Rod the same age as Bumblebee? Optimus skipped to the next question.
Q: If you had the freedom to tell Bumblebee how you really felt about him- without consequence (e.g. you wouldn't be whacked, resented, etc), what would you say?
A: I'd tell him how it is; he's fairly competent, but he doesn't aspire. He doesn't want anything for himself, as long as everyone else is happy. Mind you, he might aspire more if he wasn't so threatened by me- I mean, come on. Standing in anyone's shadow isn't fun, but my shadow's HUGE. And, he probably doesn't feel like much when he's compared with me, because I'm just-
Optimus sighed and rubbed his nasal-plating. Perhaps he'd read Bumblebee's.
Q: How do you feel when you're with Hot Rod?
A: Is this when I'm forced to be with him, or when we're fighting? Hot Rod is completely obsessed with himself. He thinks that I'm completely infatuated with him too, not to mention how inferior I am. I just think he's a bit deluded, and-
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken-
I can't take this feeling any more-
Optimus frowned, slightly bewildered. He'd try the next question.
Q: What are Hot Rod's most redeeming qualities? And, following these, what are his least?
A: Doesn't he boast about himself enough? ...Fine, he's not a bad solider. He's an opportunist, which could swing either way. Hot Rod's faults?
A tough decision-
We might as well be strangers-
Pushing me away-
I'm struggling to get a word in, I won't say anything, cause it's not worth it, now-
Optimus sighed. What was going on? //JAZZ!//
//Coming, coming, coming, coming... I am come!///
The door slid open, revealing the mech himself.
"That was speedy, Jazz." He gestured at the source of his confusion. "...Here, look at this for me. What's he talking about?"
Jazz barely glanced at the data-pad, then snorted cheerfully. "Oh, that's 'bee for you."
"It gets worse!" The commander jabbed at the later questions.
"Use your processor, Prime...!" Jazz tapped Optimus' helm. "He's writing in lyrics."
"Of course he is- hang on, he's what?"
"Obviously he's so used t'speaking with his radio that he's writing with it."
"Fabulous."
"You're looking through the pads, eh?"
"It's going to be trickier than I had envisioned," Optimus sighed, scanning another. "I should really get this done before tomorrow."
Jazz cocked his helm. "That sounds like a plea for help."
"No, no, it's fine. You go recharge."
"Nah. This sounds much more interesting. 'sides, Ratchet will kill you if you stay up too late. This'll be quicker with two amazing processors on th'job."
Optimus smiled. "Thank you, Jazz."
"...Oh, you owe me. Big time." Jazz threw himself on the berth. "Hurl me some pads," he ordered.
The commander did so.
"Tally-ho. Sunny."
"I have Sideswipe."
"Lucky you... right, Sunny's first question. 'Do you look up to Sideswipe?' Answer: 'No, he's the same height as me'." Jazz paused, pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Well- it's th'truth, I suppose."
Prime decided to read out one of Sideswipe's. "'What does Sunstreaker do in his spare time?'
'He does what I do. Generally prank on bots. Ooh, once, we were in the ventilation shafts, and we discovered this brilliant way to spy on the labs. Problem is, there's this huge mass of wiring that pokes out- due to our previous hijacking of some security cameras- so you have to be careful not to get tangled. Bumblebee did, and we spent ages untangling him. Then Wheeljack nearly blew us sky high- luckily, Hot Rod got in the way and took the blast for us. Love the guy.'" He winced, lowering the datapad. "Have you anything normal for Sunstreaker?"
Jazz bit his lip. "It kind of goes downhill from there."
"How so?"
Jazz tossed the pad to him. "Check it out."
Optimus twitched upon sight of the document. "Tell you what; we'll scan though them all and make a pile for the bots who have to redo their questions, and then a pile of safe pads. Then we can go through them properly tomorrow."
"I hear you, boss. Is Sides in the clear?"
The flamed mech read out another answer in response. "'Does Prowl enjoy any reckless and/or unusual activities?'
'Prowl's most suicidal activity is probably his constant defiance to Ratchet's medical advice to stop working. His most reckless is likely to be chasing me and Sunny. Haha...! I just remembered this time when we convinced Lennox that Prowlie was Barricade's twin brother, and both had a fetish for authority. Prowlie got the weirdest looks ever. Not to mention that no one would tell him why every single human started to avoid him. Unfortunately, someone told Sam that this wasn't true. Not sure who this could have been (Bumblebee), and then Prowlie was really, really annoyed. You can always tell when Prowlie's really fragged. He calls us 'twins'- otherwise, he calls us 'boys'. I think he's being affectionate."
Jazz pursed his lips. "At least he's actually answering the questions."
"True. A little bit side-tracked, but he is. Right, he can go on the safe pile."
"Okey-dokes. Jetfire should have some literate answers, at least."
"I'll do Arcee, then."
//NO ONE IS GOING TO BE DOING ME, WHOEVER YOU ARE! YOU SEXIST PIECE OF SCRAP! I'M GOING TO-//
"At least she can't tell who's saying these offensive comments," Optimus regarded the document, placing his feet on the table.
"Yet." Jazz rolled onto his back, and activated his magnetic ability. The data-pad floated above his helm. There was silence for a minute. "I think Jetfire kind of... had a stuck record."
"How so?"
"His responses aren't very varied- and he's only got one answer for Arcee."
"Ah, he should have extra time. He's in the Med-Bay, remember?"
Jazz nodded, and chucked the pad onto the redo pile. "How's Arcee's pad?"
"'How do you view Ironhide?'
'I hope this question isn't inferring that I should feel towards him, because I'm a femme. Femmes don't have to be sensitive and soppy towards mechs. Especially sexist ones like him.
'And Jetfire?'
'...So, if I don't feel anything towards one of my 'comrades', then I should feel something for another? Do I have to be helm-over-wheels in love with SOMEONE?'"
Jazz winced. "Surely it gets better?"
"'Does Ironhide enjoy any reckless and/or unusual activities?'
'Are you implying that I should care, because I'm a femme? Or maybe, you're implying that because I am a femme, that I should find some activities more dangerous than a mech? I refuse to answer this question.' "
"Any better than that?"
"There's being optimistic, and then there's being futilely hopeful."
"Do you reckon it's even worth asking her to redo it?"
Prime's reply was to throw the pad onto the safe pile.
"Ratchet's up now," Jazz announced.
"That must mean I have Red Alert," Optimus deduced, picking up the last pad. "'What does Ratchet like to do in his spare time?'
'Ratchet enjoys practicing throwing heavy tools around. Usually they collide with me, but I'm sure that these frequent occasions are accidents. He also likes developing his vocabulary to further insult his patients, and likes to laugh at 'barbaric' human medical treatments that he discovers on their internet, sometimes sharing them with me. I must admit, some of the practices are rather illogical.'"
Jazz raised an optic ridge. "Sounds like medics have fun lives. Ratchet's first question was 'What is Red Alert?'"'
"And his reply?"
The saboteur paused. "'Red Alert is like rust. Although at first unwanted and a hindrance, eventually he grows on you and becomes familiar. And always appears in the most random places.' "
Optimus scratched his helm. "Not the most insulting thing I've ever heard Ratchet come out with."
"Sounds bizarre t'me," Jazz replied. "An' many of the other answers are jus' as complicated. Th'guy seems t'speak a different language."
"Maybe he's doing it on purpose, so we can't tell what he's really saying."
Both mechs considered this possibility. "I think we should plan out this meeting f'tomorrow."
"Agreed."
"And look! Moustaches!" Megatron unveiled the rest of the 'disguises' dramatically.
Starscream scowled.
"Come now," the tyrant admonished, "Stop your sulking."
Starscream pouted.
"It's not so bad!" Megatron then promptly ruined this statement with an evil giggle. "Who am I kidding? It's a punishment. Get used to it."
Starscream buried his helm in his hands. He was going to be a laughing stock.
Megatron turned away. "We will infiltrate the base soon. All we need-" He turned back to a moody Seeker. "All we need-" He broke off in another giggle upon seeing Starscream and his painting handiwork.
"Do you realise how much I hate you?"
Megatron's lips twitched.
"You've ruined my chances of ever getting a femme."
"Never mind! You have us, you sexy, sexy mech!" the humans squealed faintly.
Megatron snorted with derision.
"You've ruined my life."
Megatron stuffed his fingers in his mouth to try and stop laughing.
Starscream stamped away with a final screech. "THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"
Megatron removed his fingers with a wince. "These are sharp!"
Don't you love Megatron's pointy, sharp design? I honestly believe the age rating for ANY Megatron toy should be higher than any other. He's just... um, jagged.
As my friend said in the cinema, whilst regarding a Megatron lollipop: "Oh, look, he's got a little dangly thing!" [This being his area.]
...What could I say? We then spent the rest of the advert-time checking out different interfacing panels, picking our favourites.
Never mind; the next two chapters should make up for this exceedingly short Megatron/Starscream section.
Ah well. Review me, because it makes me smile! Let me know how you feeeeel! (And, if you do, Starscream may let you see the new colour of his paintwork.)
And, it's about two in the morning, so please tell me about the lack of any grammar or spelling, if you see any.
I'll love you if you do.
Till next update! xD