Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Back to rapid fire posting. Per the reader poll, more Wheeljack, Prowl making rules and general fun. And we've hit 100 drabbles! Woohoo!

Drabble 99

"And not wearing a seat belt," Prowl's hologram continued lecturing, his attention split evenly between his current target and the human vehicles driving by them.

"What? It's a hologram! Ain't real!" Ironhide argued, flexing burly holographic muscles; his Top kick alt mode rocking on its axles.

"Then holo a seat belt. Fine of one hundred credits."

That evening, entering his office, the Second In Command stopped in the doorway. A holographic image of one hundred credits floated above the center of his desk. "Belt this! Payment in full" floated below it.

"Challenge accepted," Prowl smiled.

Drabble 100

"Aren't you suppose to label all these?" Carly reminded, glancing over the assortment of shelving and their myriad contents.

"I know what they are," Wheeljack answered, his sidebars flashing colorfully.

"And last week's explosion?" She asked sweetly.

"The twins, misreading the warnings. Mixed the beakers up. Red ring is explosive, green is corrosive and blue reactionary," Wheeljack instructed, pouring a compound.

"Blue plus purple?"

"That would be bad," then he noticed what he held. "Carly? How fast can you run?"

"Why?"

"Fourteen seconds. Go!"

"I'm buying you a permanent marker!"

Drabble 101

"Escort the liaison to the plane," Optimus ordered. The Autobots surrounded him as they moved.

"That one," Starscream ordered, his sensors honing in through the clouds. "He must be important the way they are guarding him."

"Then you grab the squishy. I hate touching one," Skywarp whined, hovering in his jet mode.

"That's an order!"

The attack was too sudden, too unexpected. A flash of light and they were gone.

"Teleported away," Wheeljack confirmed.

"I wonder if he can get that problem dropped?" Optimus chuckled.

"More likely he will be," Ironhide said.

Drabble 102

'Could be Decepticons,' Wheelie hesitated. Perched on the roof, his cat hologram shifted as he crouched lower. The humming sound increased, the miniature flier moving through the trees toward the Witwicky house. He made his decision.

"What do you mean my cat destroyed your helicopter? I don't even own a cat. And they don't carry guns," Ron argued when the kid next door showed up.

Judy ignored them, tucking Wheelie into his bed in the living room. "I appreciate you keeping my Sammie safe. My gosh, neighbor deserved to lose that toy, flying over the fence like that."

Drabble 103

Optimus glanced down, seeing the box he had inadvertently kicked over. "Slag, I am tired. Nevertheless," he bent down and began picking up the scattered white rounds. "My office door is not storage."

One bounced off his stubby finger into the air, unrolling. Amused, he watched as it hit the wall, ricocheting and leaving a trail of white paper behind. Like a mischievous youngling, he began tossing them all over his office, watching them unfurl.

The next morning had the SIC confronting the other Autobots. "Some bot tp'd Optimus office. I will find out who," Prowl warned.