Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I do not own Transformers; none of us writers here on fan fiction do actually. Hasbro, Paramount and others do. I also do not own the trademark Slurpee, other trademarked food items or reality TV shows. Used here only because they are so well known and not for profit.

These sketches do NOT exist either. I write but do not draw Transformers. If someone with that gift could, please go for it. Onward to dealing with others.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

'Another day, another laugh,' Prowl thought, confiscating yet more sketches. One showed a desert scene with a roadrunner on the left side, its normal colors repainted red and blue flames. Two pointed sensors on either side replaced its head feathers. In front of it on the right, a large boulder sunk into the ground. Two silver feet barely stuck out from the back, two arms out the front with a silver mini cannon on one, showing the purple Decepticon symbol. 'Megatron does not wear his symbol there but the sentiment is right.' Prowl noted.

The next sketch was a three panel, with the little blue Decepticon turned Autobot and guardian of his warrior goddess, Wheelie and the human Sam glaring at each other. "One insult too many" was printed underneath. Middle panel showed Wheelie grabbed into the air and out of the panel. Last panel showed Wheelie with his leg and arms tight against his body. He was wearing a tan grass skirt and a coconuts bikini on top. Motion lines showing swaying side to side as he sat on Bumblebee's dash. The signed initials of the artist were in the left most corner.

Outwardly, Prowl expression was controlled and calm as logic dictated. Inwardly, the barest twitch of his reasoning processor betrayed his delight.

Identity of artist: confirmed.

Security leak: non-existent.

Malicious intent: None.

Command Jurisdictional authority: None.

Probability of fellow Autobots hurting self if interfering in future endeavors: HIGH!

Analysis: Let artist continue, inform only Optimus Prime.

Probable reaction: amusement and request for copy of sketches.

End Result: Problem solved. Continue with rules updates upon reaching office.'

BAWHAM!

Balance sensors screaming, Prowl went down, the mech not even identifiable to his battle compensator as they collided. Remote programming subspaced his energy baton into his hand as blasters and plasma relays charged and came online. The all too familiar audios of rolling cannons froze him in place.

"Move!" Ironhide pushed him to the side, climbing back to his knees then stood, adjusting his balance. The ancient black warrior mech dashed onward, humans and Autobots scattering out of his way. Prowl returned his baton to subspace, drained off the excess energon and picked up the sketches, not realizing the outline of a foot stamp was dead center on his chest plates. Sunstreaker did and was the first to snap a photo, and relay to his twin. He added a caption underneath and forwarded it to Hound. From there, it went onto the NEST intranet, in the funny clips files, to be voted on. It never made higher than number six.

64. Do not appear to panic, become unduly upset or show unpredictable violent behavior around the humans. We are intelligent, self-controlled living beings, with thousands of years of experience and wisdom. *Ironhide (who else?), Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Wheelie

66. Do not post embarrassing, unusual or surprised moment pictures of fellow Autobots on the internal relays or NEST intranet. *Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Hound.

73. Do not use holographic driver programs to portray any trademarked food, beverage or similar product, even if attempting to remain anonymous. *not even going to bother this time

'Is there anything left to change a hologram to not in the rules?' Prowl wondered. 'I swear they must work their data modules overtime to come up with these.'

Sideswipe started the round of holographic changes. He was meeting Bumblebee to exchange virus upgrades and data reports, with Ratchet wanting an in bot scan as a precaution. The local convenience store was a halfway point for both and where Sideswipe waited, hidden in the shadows of a burned out street light. He watched an older dodge neon car pull in, parking crooked by the front doors. It was the yelling and begging for mercy that caught his instant attention. 'He's robbing this place? What kind of a moron is this human?' Sideswipe theorized then verified there were no camera signals detected nearby. He switched to bi pedal normal mode and picked the robber's car up, throwing it into a field several blocks over. Stepping back into the shadows, his holographic driver blinked into existence then changed form.

The human ran out with boxes of cigarettes in his arms. "Hey, where's my car? And what the heck is that?" he wheezed. A giant slurpee cup stood facing him, complete with straw, two arms and two legs attached. It dropped down into a fighting stance, pulling out its straw like a weapon. The cigarettes dropped to the pavement as the human began to run. The straw hit the back of his legs, knocking him down. He rolled, trying to breathe as the straw hit him in the stomach, robbing him of what little air he had drawn in. Then it disappeared into silver sparkles. A red Lamborghini drove onto the street, honking its horn once as the city police neared.

Jazz laughed and loved the idea when he heard it. He found another high crime area and changed his to a giant slice of pepperoni pizza. His robber tried shooting, only to have the pepperoni slices flung at him like flying discs of death. Ducking and shooting, he turned around and ran right into a street sign, knocking himself out cold. Jazz verified he was still alive before calling 911 for an ambulance and police.

Bumblebee choose a giant hot dog. He pretended to throw the hot dog part into the trash and grab the man with the bun. The whole time he played the hot dog jingle from the commercial. It so freaked that human robber, he converted to being a vegetarian for life.

Several more shapes followed until a teen with a camera phone recorded the event for the internet. A soldier at NEST saw it, reported it and the food holograms were then banned.

78. Do not express personal opinions, beliefs or attitudes regarding Decepticons around humans.

a.) Especially Annabelle Lennox until she reaches an appropriate age of maturity per her parental units. *Ironhide and any other mech or femme.

b.) Exempted are NEST authorized personnel, Sam Witwicky (not his parents) and Mikeala Banes (not her father or aunt)

Major Will Lennox looked at his daughter and resisted the urge to beat his head repeatedly on the nearest data console. 'She's only a child. At an age where she copies what she sees and hears. And who is she around? Giant alien warrior beings with one particular protective aggressive guardian. Why couldn't Sarah have talked to her on this?' he complained, remembering his wife patiently explaining it took two parents and a village, or in their case, a group of Autobots to raise a child properly. In addition, if it continued, she would handle it in person.

"Now sweetie. We do not refer to Decepticons as cannon fodder, pre bot bag specials, pit spawned scrap, or a good way to spend energon. They are mean and evil."

"Uh huh. Jetfire was good at the end. And Wheelie is funny," she laughed as her father choked. "He tells me about how mean the 'cons were to him. Now he's happy. He talks funny."

"That's another thing Annabelle. Some of the Autobots talk funny or use words that are not..." he searched for the right term to use around a five and a half year old.

"They're bad words daddy, I know. I try not to use them." She blushed, folding her hands behind her back.

"You know they're bad?" He asked, seeing a way out. If she knew, then she could learn not to use them.

"Yup. They tell me I can't use them until I am older and a hero like you and Ironhide." She smiled, leaning closer and hugged him. He hugged back, his eyes misting over with a father's love and joy.

'What are a few words now and then,' he mentally reasoned. 'She's protected and I'll tell Sarah she's like you honey. Fierce, kick-aft and no one messes with our kid.'

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker rolled into the hangar, transforming into their red and yellow robot forms and waving. "Ready for another driving lesson? We hacked all the police reports and erased all the highway cameras from last time. Oh, hi Major Lennox."

"^%#$% you two!"

"Daddy! I'm telling mommy you swore!"

81. Do not adapt human reality shows to our existence.

A previous liaison had criticized the number of TV's spread around the base and the giant sized one in the Autobots recreational area. His report stated it was a waste of funding as the Autobots could connect directly into signals from all over the world. They responded TV was a primary part of human culture and they wanted an area they could share with their human companions. And it was easier to ask a human sitting next to you than to surf the internet and see who knows what. The majority voted him off of the base and extinguished his virtual torch the day he left.

The weapons practice was next. Wheeljack was field-testing new ammo charges when they began ricocheting. Jumping and twisting, Chromia and Ironhide avoided being impaled by explosive shrapnel, landing in a heap at the starting line. Hound, Mudflap and Skids each held up a virtual scorecard. 9.5 9.0 and 8.0. "The landing lacked grace," Skids commented when they looked at his 8.0. He laughed then flew backwards from Chromia's kick to his chest plates. She gave him a 9.5 for hitting the wall. "Nice splat." Ratchet and Optimus Prime were not amused and officially banned virtual scorecards.

Several of the braver mechs called Ironhide "Chef" for a while before he realized they were comparing him to an infamous chef known for his temper and yelling. Singing was never a common Cybertronian specialty, eliminating those shows, much to Bumblebee and Jazz's dismay.

Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus refused to turn assignments into a contest, though they threatened anyone failing not with 'you're fired' but brig time. Same for scouting missions. They were not a 'race' but serious reconnaissance. Any disregard of proper procedures and brig time resulted. When it was empty and not occupied by the twins that was.

Autobot Med-Bay, NEST base, Diego Garcia (pt 3)

Optimus Prime leaned against the wall directly facing the med bay doors, too ashamed to go in. "It's my fault," he sorrowed. Ironhide crashed through the hallway far doors, nearly sliding to a stop. He targeted the closed doors with his cannons then hesitated, looking over at Prime.

"Bumblebee is recovering. Needs time with Ratchet. Then we can both see him." He made a settle down gesture, watching as the other mech lowered his cannons, venting rapidly.

"What happened? I got a call from Ratchet, 'Bee's gone critical." He walked up to the doors, nearly touching them.

"He'll need you. You have always been there for him."

"You should have been there too! His spark carries your coding!" He snarled, leaning his head against the closed doors.

"You knew?" He sputtered in shock as Ironhide spun, slamming into him, pinning his larger frame against the wall.

"Everybot slagging knew Prime! Everybot but the one who mattered! 'Bee! Only when he was in recharge, or med bay did you ever show you truly cared. Was it a weakness after Tyger Pax? He was tortured to near offlining and you never let him know! You left him to humans to pursue the Allspark. Chained, nearly frozen and tortured by Sector Seven," Ironhide shuttered his optics, venting furiously as he backed up. "I should have disobeyed you. Gone after him. He fought injured at Mission City. Could have offlined like Jazz."

"I never wanted him hurt or offlined by my enemies or by my actions. That was why I hid who I was from him." Optimus said, his red and blue arms folded across his chest.

"It happened anyways! Did you ever talk to him after Egypt?" the black mech hissed, his cannons rolling. "You offlined! Bumblebee risked everything, even Sam to bring you back. What price is worth your silence?"

CLANG! A metal wrench ricocheted off the back of Ironhide's head dome. "Stop it! This is a med bay and I don't need you two aft-heads adding to my injured list. Prime, get inside. Ironhide you have to wait. That is an order."

Ratchet returned to med bay, counting the astro seconds, expecting to be hit from behind with cannon blasts. The double doors slid shut. 'Thank Primus he listened. Next to Prime he's a real threat when upset.' His multi faceted optics narrowed, watching Optimus trying to read the medical scans displayed above Bumblebee's air chamber. He touched the top of the dome, looking over the yellow bot's form underneath.

"Your sparkling will recover. Yes, I know. Slag it Prime! It has to be the worse kept secret next to Prowl having a sense of humor. The enclosed dome is only for the critical situations but right now, it's the only way to temperature control without affecting the entire room. I could bring him online but not at the risk of another overload." The medic gestured towards an Autobot sized metal bench.

"Prime," Ratchet deliberately refrained from using his mech name and jumped into what had to be said. "The spark neglect has been ongoing." He noted the instant denial and flare of anger from Optimus, his optics flickering with red. 'I'm betting he can stay in control. If not, this is going to hurt.' The medic thought, pausing a moment for his leader to think. "Bumblebee needed spark interaction desperately but never said."

"I didn't know," his vocal tone was soft, as he unconsciously held a silver armored hand over his own spark.

"Why would you Prime? The great and noble leader who fought his brother, the Lord High Protector, over the fate of our entire race? Did you really expect the smallest, youngest of the scouts to come to his Prime, who refused to acknowledge same youngling, to ask about a possible relationship?"

Optimus open his mouth, snarling his lip plates then bit back what he was going to say. He glanced over at the readings above Bumblebee before looking back. "Megatron is a traitor to our race and continues this war that endangers us all. I cannot acknowledge him as brother or I could not fight him."

"Do you ever think of anything but battles and being a Prime?" Ratchet continued, keeping his famous temper in check, "I know why you shut out Megatron. But you were aged! And if you want my medical opinion, I think you missed having a family enough you risked everything to create Bumblebee!"

Optimus unsheathed the amber sword from his wrist, swinging it up against Ratchet's throat in a single motion. Red sparked optics met blue optics. Neither moved, until Optimus looked away, his optics returning to blue as he retracted the sword.

"What can I do?" He asked, his vocal tone soft and broken.

"What you started. Acknowledge your youngling. And if it helps, Bumblebee already knew." He nodded at the open disbelief in Optimus' expression. "He's known and never said, never admitted even to me."

"Then how?"

"I'm a medic." He snorted, rolling his optics. "Recognizing injuries and ailments is more than broken energon lines and crossed cables. Matters of the spark coding and processors affect as much as plasma holes and energon burns. Truthfully, I was about to force you both into this situation as he has been steadily degrading."

"Now, we will go slow, keeping him here, monitoring your interactions from a distance. You block or hesitate and he will internalize it, blaming himself. Ironhide and I will have a talk with him. You go recharge. One frazzled mech is enough. Use the recharge berth in there." Ratchet pointed to the sidewall, in his private area when he felt the need to be close to his patients. "Scanners on the wall relay the data out here. One look and you know what I know. Go Optimus. He is safe and will need you the moment he onlines."

To be continued….. (I know, you hate that phrase but it is true, more is coming)