Part 25

Screams and curses echoed off the walls in the brig, and the cell bars reverberated as Starscream hurled an empty tray with such force that it shattered. His shriek carried out into the hall, almost as loud despite going through the steel door. As soon as the shriek ended, a moment of silence passed as he vented out excess heat, and then he began screaming again.

Outside, Sideswipe exchanged a look with Sunstreak, and his twin shook his head once. Being twins, they understood each other without always having to speak, and Sunstreak could read the look in his brother's optics instantly.

"I don't care how crazy he's gone," Sunstreak said. "We ain't going in there."

"But he's gotta be doing that for a reason," Sideswipe said. "Maybe he's dying."

"We should be so lucky."

Sideswipe huffed. "I know, but do you wanna get yelled at by Prowl?"

Sunstreak frowned, weighing losing a prisoner against being yelled at again. They were on guard duty precisely because Prowl had no sense of humor. He had a feeling that letting Starscream die would be worse than double-teaming Cliffjumper, but then Prowl hadn't heard that little scrapheap reading stories about the twins out loud. If Sunstreak hadn't smashed Cliffjumper across the face, Powerglide and Brawn had been about to. Really, they'd just saved Prowl from having to stop a riot, but did that stuck up Enforcer realize it? Of course not.

With a rumbling vent, Sunstreak called out on the designated security frequency.

Ironhide, Jazz...heck, Prowl, anyone out there?

Sideswipe listened in, waiting for their mutual orders. A long moment passed. There was no response. They shared another look, fidgeting as the silence stretched out. Sideswipe nodded at him to try again, and Sunstreak made a face at him.

"You try it," Sunstreak said. "Maybe they'll talk to you."

"I don't think they would ignore you," Sideswipe said. "And I don't wanna call them."

"Well, I don't wanna call them."

"Just do it!"

With a long, loud vent, Sunstreak raised one hand to point at Sideswipe's face when another shriek made them both jump. Snarling at himself and his twin and the whole situation, Sunstreak slapped on the frequency again.

Sunstreak to anyone–there's a situation down here at the brig if anyone cares. Hello?

Again, silence. Sunstreak groaned and stomped his foot once, looking up and down the empty hall as if someone might appear.

That's it, he grumbled to his twin. I'm gonna go in there and mute him myself–

You will do nothing of the sort, Prowl interrupted. How many times have I told you–?

I called three times! Sunstreak snapped. I figured since no one was answering that no one cared and–

Hold yer engines, Ironhide interrupted him. We got a bit of a situation up here, too. Is anyone down there dyin'?

No, Sunstreak sulked. Unfortunately. But Starscream's–

Another shriek followed, followed by a long howl that drowned out even his internal com. As the echo died away, Ironhide's awed whistle followed after.

Wow, livin' up to his name, huh? Ironhide said. No one went in, right?

He's all by himself, Sunstreak said. Except for Soundwave, but he hasn't said anything.

Not surprising, Prowl said. None of us can come right now, but I'm sending Skyfire down. Hopefully he'll find out what's wrong. When he arrives, let him through.

Yessir, Sunstreak said.

You said you have a situation up there, Sideswipe said. Do you want one of us to go up?

...no. Prowl hesitated. There's been a minor...altercation, but we should be able to take care of it.

'Altercation'? Sunstreak echoed to his twin, forgetting they were talking on the security frequency. They mean a fight, right?

We mean a brawl, Ironhide chuckled. The whole damn cafeteria broke out into a fight. I'm glad Prowl got you out of here early. Bad enough we got regular mechs in here, but you two front-liners in this would've given us some real casualties.

Cliffjumper, Sunstreak snarled.

He ain't the only one, Ironhide said. Something about grounders an' jets an' whatever the pit 'shippin' means. Look, just stay put, okay, an' be happy you ain't getting the police detail these idiots're gonna get.

Sir yessir, Sideswipe answered, tempted to try for one more question when they heard the elevator door ding. Both of them turned and readied their weapons out of habit, but they relaxed when they saw Skyfire appear.

They narrowed their optics. "What's that?"

Skyfire shrugged as he came closer, giving them a look at the large cylinder in his hand. "Thinner. Prowl said Starscream is throwing a tantrum. If his previous behavior is any indication, a little of this will help calm him down."

The twins both raised an eyeridge as they frowned, but the larger mech looked so confident and sure of himself that neither of them was willing to question it. Paint thinner? They both stepped aside and let him pass, looking at the other for any clue.

"Prowl or the other officers might come down," Skyfire said before he closed the door. "This might seem pretty bad, but please give anyone coming after me them my assurances that it's for the best. Including for Starscream."

"Uh, sure," Sideswipe said, "whatever you say."

The moment Skyfire went inside and the door shut completely, Sideswipe and Sunstreak both commed the security line in unison.

Ironhide, Prowl...Skyfire said something really weird...

As Skyfire came inside, Starscream's shriek cut short, echoing for only a klik before the brig grew silent. Neither of them said anything as they sized each other up, Starscream's optics flicking toward the bucket and Skyfire examining his friend for any sparking wounds or weak spots in his armor.

"Like what you see?" Starscream demanded with a cold grin.

"Starscr–"

"Or are you just checking up on your prize!" Starscream threw a handful of the pieces of a broken tray at him, snarling in frustration that they harmlessly bounced off his frame. "Your trophy locked up in a case! Are they throwing you a party? All the little Autobots cheering that you brought me down like a little sparkling?"

Venting deep, Skyfire faced him like a battle to be fought. He glanced at Soundwave briefly, just long enough to note that the blue mech had curled in a corner of his cell and seemed intent on staying silent. Then Skyfire focused back at Starscream.

"You're raving," Skyfire said softly. "You're not making sense."

"You'd like to think so!" Starscream shrieked. "You'd like to forget me! Trick me into surrendering and then leave me down here!"

Skyfire crossed the brig, coming up to the bars. Starscream took a step back, glaring up at him, then followed Skyfire's hand as the larger mech keyed in the security code.

"Or beat me into silence?" Starscream raged, backing away as Skyfire opened the door and came in, so much taller and imposing in his silence. "Finish your medic's hatchet job and rip out my vocalizer!"

Skyfire shut the door, locking them both in, and he set the container on the floor. Silent, he faced Starscream for a long vent cycle. The jet's moods were legendary on the battlefield, mercurial and often insane, and one of Starscream's optics glowed dimmmer than the other, flickering as the jet twitched. Skyfire couldn't know what was going on in Starscream's cortex, but Ratchet had described the programming contradictions in the jet's mind, the weapon coding conflicting with a scientist's natural reasoning. Skyfire guessed that his friend's defrag and compiling was ongoing. As wildly as Starscream raved, Skyfire felt a touch of sympathy. The internal static and reshuffling must have been exhausting.

"Nothing's being ripped out," Skyfire said. "There's nothing to rip out. Your armaments are completely removed."

"Of course!" Starscream sneered. "You'd want me helpless, incapable of fighting back! Autobots demand nothing but complete capitulation, complete surrender! Hypocrites! Liars–!"

Starscream's yell hitched as Skyfire leaned toward him, one hand out. With a startled metallic screech, Starscream skirted the edge of the cell, staying as far out of the shuttle's reach as he could. As Skyfire drew closer, however, filling the cell with his presence, Starscream found himself pressing against the bars, turning his head as Skyfire came near.

"Not the Autobots," Skyfire said, cupping his helm long enough to feel Starscream's vents slow down and deepen. Trapped in place, the jet stared up at him with wide optics, lips parted, trembling in his palm.

And then Skyfire lowered his hand and grasped Starscream's waist, pinning his arm against his side. The smaller mech gasped, turning as if he could shy away. Instead Skyfire came to hold him with both hands, using his greater weight and size to leverage the jet down and on his back.

"I want you helpless," Skyfire said, straddling Starscream's legs. "So you can't hurt anyone."

Skyfire took Starscream's arm and held it down against his cockpit, forcing his other arm across the jet's armor and pinning it under his palm. "So you can't fight in this war ever again."

And then he pulled the cylinder and cloth across the floor, setting it in easy reach.

Turning his head, Starscream glanced between Skyfire and the container he'd brought, a thousand different guesses flashing through his misaligned cortex. A disassembly kit? Cerebro shell? Restraints?

The top opened, and the scent of paint thinner hit him.

With a deep vent, Starscream opened his mouth and shrieked at top volume, straining his vocal processor until static and feedback interfered with the sound.

The last time a brawl had erupted on the Ark, as far as Jazz remembered, involved some mech accidentally using Sunstreaker's polish in the washracks. That hadn't been pretty–the frontliner could do a lot of damage in a few kliks, and Jazz had nearly resorted to cutting the young mech's cables just to stop him from blasting off the offender's face.

Although none of them were really combat models, some of the civilians-turned-soldiers were just as heavily armored, and millenia of war had honed them all into hair-triggered bundles of stressed circuits. None of them were built for beating each other into scrap, but all of them had done as much to Decepticons on the battlefield. A brawl was nothing to take lightly.

So when the alert came across the security frequency that mechs were beating each other up in the cafeteria, Jazz gave Prowl a quick kiss and then hopped over his desk, moving at top speed through the corridors. As soon as he had room, he transformed into his alt mode, indulging in the rare opportunity for authorized racing in the halls.

Tell me, he asked over the same frequency. On a scale of one to Ironhide, how ugly does it look?

Real cute, Ironhide said dryly. Get your aft down here, will ya? It ain't but me and Gears trying to break up the party, and I'm getting tired of watching him get kicked from one side of the cafeteria to the other.

Ignore him, Gears grumbled over the comm. If Ironhide wasn't going so easy on these mechs, we'd have cleaned up this fight alr–

Transmission faded into static that cut off quickly.

Annnd there he goes again, Ironhide sighed. Glorified hockey puck. You almost here?

Coming around the corner, Jazz promised. Just wanted to get a headstart on–

You didn't, Prowl said, his tone promising a reckoning as soon as he caught up. I'm just as fast as you are.

Prowl, Jazz said, eschewing the security line for their private frequency. Sweet spark, mech of mine, shiny of shinies...

Don't try to sweet talk me, Prowl snapped. I know why you took off like that–

I didn't wanna bring it up, Jazz said, finally coming to the door and looking in.

It didn't look good. At least none of them had been so stupid as to spill energon out of their cubes, but most of the mechs inside were wearing energon, seeping out of the cracks in their armor and splashed on their knuckles. Steel trays flew across the room and careened off of helms, followed up by taunts Jazz didn't understand and didn't want to understand.

"Cross-faction is sick!" Brawn tackled Mirage, throwing him into one of the tables.

"Don't like, don't read!" Mirage yelled, kicking him off and vanishing. A moment later, Brawn went flying backward.

In the middle of what had been a row of tables, Air Raid and Blades dodged each other's punches while alternating between "Wing fetishist!" and "Spark fetishist!"

As Cliffjumper stumbled from being sideswiped by Brawn, he grabbed Blaster's pede and pulled himself right again, giving Blaster's side a hit for good measure. "And you and that damn height rule! Short bots ain't pushovers!"

Gears slid by again, this time knocking over Cliffjumper, and Mirage reappeared as he fell backward over their combined momentum.

"And you're always getting things wrong!" Bumblebee howled over his shoulder as Hound lifted him up off the ground. "Eight million years and you don't know our armaments? You're ignoring canons!"

Jazz's doorwings drooped as he scanned the room, lost in a wash of story jargon and nicknames. He felt corroded just listening to them.

Prowl, he said, I know you're Second and I'm Third, but for just this once, listen to me and stay outta this.

'For once'? Prowl replied. I always take your advice under consideration.

Then stay put, Jazz said. You're just too sensitive for this kinda work.

...don't hurt them too badly, Prowl said, and his wheels audibly came to a halt wherever he was. Ratchet won't forgive you if he has to patch up the whole base.

Ironhide slammed into the wall next to Jazz, his faceplate dented and scratched, and he wiped a streak of energon against the back of his fist. His other hand held Cliffjumper by the pede.

"I don't care what you do to 'em," Ironhide rumbled, dropping the minibot. "Just do it now!"

"You got it."

Jazz transformed back into alt mode and lunged into the middle of the room, bowling over Hound and Blur on the way. He turned his wheels hard, drifting his tail end so he faced the majority of fighters.

"Let's rock this joint!"

The resultant sound and light show rattled the walls and sent every bot to the floor. His speakers poured out what should have been classic rock if the volume had been low enough to make out the notes.

Enough! Ironhide struggled to talk even over the comm. Enough! They're all down!

Aw, ruining my fun, Jazz said, but he dropped the volume and lights immediately and reverted back to root mode.

Mechs littered the floor, curled up on their sides and groaning as optics and audios came out of painful reset. Thoroughly disgusted, Jazz bent and dragged Bumblebee up by his arm, giving Mirage a solid kick to the pede as he stepped over him.

"Get up," Jazz ordered. "Prowl might be punishing everyone else, but you two belong to me."

"Acceptable," Prowl said from the doorway. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, as if he'd just come to do a surprise inspection, but his tightly drawn doorwings betrayed how close his sensitive systems had come to Jazz's overwhelming attack.

Jazz vented, wanting to make sure he was all right and settling for Prowl's curt nod.

"I'll take these two down below," Jazz said. "An' check on...everything else down there."

"I'll join you as soon as I have this cleaned up," Prowl said, walking past him and standing over the piles of mechs. "Although that may take awhile."

"Throw the book at 'em," Jazz said, then grimaced. "Better not, actually, considering what books they like."

"Yeah," Bumblebee muttered under his breath. "Lousy alt universe writers–gack!"

Jazz shook him once as he dragged him, stumbling, backwards away from the cafeteria. "Shut up, you little scrap of tinfoil–I swear to Primus I'll confiscate every last datapad you got, see if won't!"

"They started it," Mirage grumbled, brushing off dust and paint chips from his shoulder. He drew up short when he saw Jazz's glare, his voice stuttering into silence.

"I swear, I'll-" Jazz started.

Emergency! Sunstreaker called. Anyone! Down here in the brig! Is anyone listening-?

Loud and clear, Ironhide called quickly, cutting off both Prowl and Jazz. What's the sit'rep?

Situation report in brief, Sunstreaker said. Skyfire went into Starscream's cell. The dumb jet's freaking out and Skyfire...I can't tell what he's doing to him, but he's sitting on top of him and Starscream sounds like his vocalizer's gonna explode.

Ironhide shared a look with Jazz and Prowl. With a weary vent, Prowl watched as Jazz yanked his two bots with him, remaining behind while they followed Ironhide. Now doubly annoyed at being left behind twice, Prowl turned his attention to the battered mechs sprawled around him, each of whom groaned as they sat upright, taking stock of their injuries.

"We'll begin," Prowl said, taking out his datapad and accessing his punishment detail roster, "with month-long police duty clearing debris from around the Ark..."

TBC...