A/N: So, you wanted more Jolt (or one of you did, anyway), so here is more Jolt.

The word Laserbeak uses in place of "mother" is not cybertronian, sorry. It's Hungarian. Which is the only other language I know.

The Deployers have sort of residual telepathic powers from Soundwave. They can't directly influence a target's actions, but they can plant ideas in others' heads. And if the target makes the conscious decision to go with this idea, well...


The Plot of Evil: Act One

"...and then I almost fell into Hound. I would've, too, if Rav hadn't warned me." Jolt was saying while she petted Ravage's head fondly.

"I am pretty brilliant, aren't I?" Ravage agreed, purring.

Soundwave rolled his blind optics. His screen was sitting on the desk, all but forgotten.

They were lying together on Jolt's (Soundwave's) berth. Since Soundwave couldn't get out of the room (except in certain, rare, situations when the entire ship was basically empty), Jolt would come in at the end of the day, they would lie together, and Jolt would tell Soundwave about her day.

"Hound?" Soundwave replied. "I fought him once."

"Really?" Jolt asked excitedly. "What happened?"

"I won. Of course, if you asked him, he'd tell you he won, but I won." Soundwave started. "It was during the retreat from Kaon. He ambushed me – I really should have been prepared, but Laserbeak was damaged – and then we had a short scuffle. I won. But I had to put up with Dragstrip swooning over him all of the next two cycles."

There was a silence.

"You really suck at telling stories, Soundwave." Jolt breathed exasperatedly. "I don't know where Laserbeak gets his storytelling ability from."

"Primus." Laserbeak told her. "I am gifted by the Maker, családanya."

"I wouldn't go that far. You're good, but not that good, Beaky." Jolt replied, feeling ridiculously good that Laserbeak was calling her the Cybertronian equivalent of "mother."

"I thought we told you his nickname is Lazy." Ravage put in. She also called Jolt "mother," but only when she was being exceedingly respectful (i.e. she wanted something) or she was really tired.

"Laserbeak is the least idle of all of you." Soundwave said. "That nickname is about as logical as why the Enforcer is so preoccupied with the red and white one when Jolt is on the ship."

Jolt turned to Soundwave. "Did you just simultaneously insult Prowl and Red Alert while complimenting me?" she asked playfully.

"Obviously." Soundwave said unashamedly, surreptitiously using his radar to locate Jolt's mouth to kiss it.

"Welp, fluff alert!" Laserbeak mock-wailed. "I am so glad Rumble and Frenzy aren't here. Rumble would go all...Rumble-y...and Frenzy would pretend he didn't care and it would be insufferable."

He looked around. Ravage also looked around. Soundwave and Jolt stopped kissing to look around.

"Actually, where are Rumble and Frenzy?" they all said.


Rumble and Frenzy were in the ventilation shafts, hatching a devious Plot.

"Right, so we use our powers of persuasion-" Rumble started in a whisper.

"You mean we use our telepathic suggestion powers." Frenzy whispered back.

"Yeah, we use them, and we get the Enforcer and the red-and-white one to sing that human song we heard." Rumble finished.

"Right." Frenzy agreed.

"And if something inevitably goes catastrophically wrong," Rumble said, quoting Laserbeak almost exactly, "we pretend to be sparklings. I'm called Livewire and you're called Defibrillator."

"That's a stupid name. I'm going to be called Jumpstart. Okay?" Frenzy asked. Rumble nodded his assent.

"Then let the Plot of Evil begin!" Frenzy declared.


Prowl was sitting in the rec room, writing on his datapad.

Perhaps "writing" is too strong a word. What he was actually doing was resisting the urge to talk to Red Alert because if he did he would be extremely unprofessional and actively try to make her laugh as much as possible because she had a really beautiful laugh and he might teasingly kiss her so she made that noise that he really liked and he was getting quite off topic now.

Basically, he really didn't want to have to explain why he was being so un-Prowl-like to the third person in the room. Red Alert herself was sitting in a chair across from him, and was visibly twitching with the effort of restraining herself, for one reason and one reason only.

Ultra Magnus was also in the rec room. And naturally he was completely oblivious to everything emotion-related. He also didn't approve of whirlwind romances among his officers (well, Arcee and Bumblebee got away with it because they were amazing and brilliant and could do no wrong).

Jazz swanned in, and had to stifle his laughter. He walked over and sat down next to Red Alert, seeing an opportunity to mess with his old scouting partner (i.e. Prowl).

"How you doin', belle?" he said smoothly to the Alfa Romeo.

Prowl's lip twitched. He had obsessively learned the Earth language that Jazz peppered his speech with, and was well aware of what he was doing.

Red Alert looked at Jazz with some confusion on her faceplates. "I'm sorry?"

"Ah said, what's a belle femme like yaself doin' all by her lonesome?" Jazz replied.

Prowl's lip twitched some more and his battle computer subconsciously labelled Jazz as enemy and plastered a target lock on his smug back.

"Prowl," Ultra Magnus interrupted his dreams of grievously harming Jazz with righteous explosions of jealousy, "your missile launchers are online, soldier."

Prowl looked to his left and right and did a bit of a double-take when he noticed the large white thermobaric missiles on either side of his helm. He hadn't thought he was that jealous. Oh wait, yes he was.

"Oh." he said, gritting his denta. "My battle computer must have detected a threat, sir. In error, I am sure. I should ask Red Alert to run a diagnostic on it."

Jazz looked exceptionally pleased with himself.

Ultra Magnus cycled his optics. "Why are you placing emphasis on those words in particular, Prowl?"

"No reason, sir." Prowl replied quickly. "My vocoder has been having slight problems. A mild virus. It is fine now."

"I see."

"Ya sure it's fine?" Jazz drawled, winking. "Mibbe ya should get Red Alert ta have a look at it."

"I do not think she would appreciate my wasting of her time for a minor virus when she has much more important things to be doing, Jazz."

Red Alert spoke up. "Prowl, you are just as important to me as anyone else on this ship. More than anyone else, in fact."

Ultra Magnus gave her a curious look and she panicked slightly. "In that, of course, as the SIC, security would be compromised if you were to be off duty due to any virus." she finished hurriedly.

Ultra Magnus looked placated with this explanation. Jazz, seeing his fun was over, stood up and left the room; but not without a last smoulder in Red Alert's direction. Prowl may or may not have had something to do with the door closing a little fast and scratching the paint on Jazz's leg.

Prowl had a strange thought occur to him. What did he care if Magnus disapproved? In fact, why didn't he just up and serenade Red Alert with the song which was conveniently writing itself into his mind?

He shook the thought away. That would be far too irresponsible for him.

Yeah, but she'd really like it if he sung to her, the thought said. She might even sing too, and then everything would be perfect, and Magnus could shove it up his exhaust.

These were very un-Prowl-like thoughts, he noted. But they were certainly extremely attractive un-Prowl-like thoughts.

Attractive. Red Alert was attractive. Red Alert would like it if he sang the song. Sing the song.

What was the song again?

The thought told him what the song was; rather more testily than his thoughts usually did, he thought. It also told him he was a moron, and that he should just stop questioning himself and sing the fragging song already so Red Alert would be really, really happy with him.

This was such a good idea, Prowl decided. What could possibly go wrong?


DUN DUN DUNNNN

Next? Maybe a return to Megsy and Thunderblast. And Prowl sings The Song. What is The Song, you ask? I have no idea.

Do you?