Oh how I sometimes wish I went to a regular college where I wasn't expected to spend hours on one homework assignment... Obviously my creativity has gone pretty much kaput due to school pressure so this is the last of the pre-made drabbles meaning I'll be posting drabbles here at the same time I'll be updating my lj. I still do plan on doing the monthly challenge, though, so keep an eye out for that. It'll probably go up either later tonight or sometime Saturday.
JML: You know, I never really gave Tracks much thought at all, but for the backstory thing? It's... really fitting, I think.
Tomorrow: If you could find it again, I'd be much appreciative. Even if the story itself isn't great, it's still interesting to see other people's takes on things, no? My Smokescreen (as well as others) were what are called 'hosts'. Their main job is just to be the dealers or hosts in gambling dens and, for the right price, whatever else the patron would like them to do. Those kinds of dens were mainly in the slums and- though they were illegal -it was considered a selling point to have an Autobot officer asking for a specific host. It was the sort of job the upper/middle class refused to acknowledge, but for those that lived there, it was merely what they did to live.
Thanks to all for reading and reviewing!
Title: False Advertisement
Fandom: Movie 'verse
Rating: G
Characters: Sam, Bumblebee, Bluestreak and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in the background
Summary: You'd think they'd know better by now. If you don't get it, btw, just look up Trunk Monkey on youtube.
Sam wasn't a big fan of dance music, but Bumblebee liked blaring it when he wanted to do a little speeding and after so many years under his father's rule of 'driver picks the music', he didn't complain. He did, however, pat the dash to indicate he wanted to talk without yelling.
"You know who landed?" The boy asked. He was a bit bummed that the newest of the Autobots had come while he was visiting family for the week. Sam would bet Bumblebee was, too.
"Two of them I'm not too familiar with," admitted the radio, "but one of them- Bluestreak –is a good friend of mine. We're among the youngest of the survivors so we tend to stick together when we can."
"Heh, cool." Sam could dig that. Maybe this Bluestreak would be more apt (and less trouble) to pal around with than some (the twins).
As the two came up on the perimeter of the Autobot's new base- some old, abandoned military facility –Bumblebee transmitted his access code, allowing them uncontested entrance and announcing his return. His radio came on briefly with Cybertronian chatter- check ins, updates, status, general howryas. Sam leaned forward, making out a couple figures waiting at the front of a hangar. He could spot Optimus Prime's towering frame (he stayed just long enough to ensure the scout's safe return), the complimenting figures of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and a third that- if it weren't for the actual colors on him –Sam nearly mistook for Prowl.
Bumblebee coasted to a stop before the three of them, blasting a quick, "before I melt like snow/I say hello/how do you do". Sam slid out of the driver's seat, practice and familiarity had him ducking under the Camaro's transformation. Before he could introduce himself, the new mech pointed at him and twittered something in not-human. Over his head, Bumblebee froze while the twins rattled in what was apparently the Cybertronian equivalent of laughter.
Sam hated when they- or anyone –didn't speak English. Because he knew they were talking about him. "What's going on?"
"I didn't know we were allowed Trunk Monkeys!"
The boy boggled. "Whadda wha?" By the newcomer's shoulder, Sideswipe was curling in on himself in chortling laughter while Sunstreaker shook his head.
"Bluestreak," Bumblebee said in that universal 'I'm being really patient as I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding but you will tell me now' kind of way, "what are you talking about?"
"You're Trunk Monkey! Though he seems a lot bigger and less hairy than the vid depicts them. How come you and Ironhide are the only ones with them? Well, actually Ironhide has two but that's only sometimes and I know he's bigger but I wouldn't think he'd have a Trunk Monkey even if we're allowed them." Bluestreak prattled thoughtfully. "Is Arcee's a Trunk Monkey? She doesn't really have a trunk, so would that make her a Seat Monkey? Hers has more hair than yours and definitely more hair than Ironhide's- especially the darker one that doesn't always come by-"
"Blue," Bumblebee interjected, having to be a little sharp to be heard of the twins' cackling. "Where did you find out about this… Trunk Monkey thing?"
"That's our cue to leave." Sunstreaker snerked, pulling his brother away.
Sideswipe's words faded out behind them, "Oh, I forgot how much fun an impressionable mech like Bluestreak was!"
"I'm going to go have a word with those two," Bumblebee told them, "I'll be back in a bit. Bluestreak, this is Sam. My not-Trunk Monkey. Why don't you two talk until I return?" He stalked resolutely after the other two mechs.
Bluestreak looked down at Sam. Sam looked up at him. Bluestreak squatted. "Not-Trunk Monkey?"
"Yeah, so I'm pretty certain I'm right," Sam told Bluestreak patiently, "by saying everything those two told you about this planet is a lie."
