A Brilliant Streak
AN: It has come to my attention that my notes are too long, so I will endeavor to send private messages via the site. To those who cant access theirs or have difficulty with the site (As I do all the time), I apologize for the inconvenience and hope you continue to stick with me. I don't wish to distract from the story and the notes are now taking a page or more to respond.
Thank you so much to all who review! It puts the biggest, goofiest grin on my face when I read reviews that people have taken the time to write and express their fav/disappointment/requests… it all means so much. And I grin like a clown on laughing gas from the reviewers that brighten my day.
Love to you all!
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"Explain to me HOW you got a cucumber stuck up your tailpipe," Ratchet demanded, trying to hold Sideswipe still with one hand while extracting the green vegetable with the other.
"The same way I ended up with a banana," Sunstreaker growled. "My dumb aft brother thought he'd try something he saw in a movie."
"Hey, it was funny!" Sideswipe said, trying to defend his soiled honor. "And I didn't know it'd get stuck!"
Ratchet grimaced, his extenders having a hard time getting a good hold on the mushy vegetable. "You thought you'd ram something up your tailpipes for a laugh?"
"Well, in the movie, it made the cop cars stall out," Sideswipe said, crying out when Ratchet's instruments raked along a tender spot. "Watch it, you witch doctor!"
Ratchet ignored the nickname and forced his pinchers in deeper, earning a painful outcry from the Lamborghini currently bowing on his tires.
"So, you tried to stall yourself out?" Ratchet asked, grimacing in satisfaction when he felt the offending obstacle give up its hold and start the slow retraction from its current location. Ratchet had often wondered about the sanity of the twins and here he had physical proof of their lacking mentality.
"Actually, this was a practice run,' Sideswipe admitted, wincing as the slimy vegetable finally exited his frame. "I was hoping to get Prowl when he least expects it."
Ratchet dropped the thoroughly ruined vegetable onto a tray and gave Sideswipe an incredulous look. "You were practicing so you can catch Prowl unaware and stall out his engine?"
Sideswipe transformed, finally free of his unwanted installed part. He stretched, feeling a cool trickling sensation and hoped it wasn't any of the vegetables internals that was leaking from his frame. That would be gross.
"Well, its been awhile since I pulled a prank on him,' Sideswipe offered a lopsided grin. "I didn't want him to feel left out."
Ratchet gave a furious growl, smacking Sideswipe upside the helm with a new wrench. There was a deep clang as it struck, initiating it into its new, alternative job of patient rectification.
"You slagger! I should let you bake that thing in your tailpipes!" Ratchet fumed, adding another dose of iron into Sideswipe's physical diet.
Sideswipe fell against a berth, his equilibrium chips knocked haywire. He cringed when Ratchet advanced, but Sunstreaker interrupted what could have been an epic battle.
"Ratchet, get this banana out of my tailpipe," Sunstreaker deadpanned, rolling forward in haste to rid himself of the offending organic substance. Sunstreaker had been the first victim of Sideswipe's 'practice run'. Sunstreaker had transformed into his bipedal mode, forgetting about smashing the fruit, and proceeded to chase his twin to enact his own retaliation. He was disgusted when the eggplant wouldn't fit.
Though there was a good chance that Spike and Sparkplug were going to need a full reboot. They both locked up when the twins were initiating their food fight in the modified kitchen.
Now, transformed back into his alt mode and feeling very disgusting with banana fumes coming from his tailpipe, Sunstreaker just wanted a clean bill of health, and physical, before beating his twin senseless in the privacy of their own quarters without witnesses or medical intervention. Of course there was a high percentage that Ratchet would assist him into beating some sense into his twin. He hated organics and he most certainly didn't enjoy having them mashed in his circuits. It felt…. Gooey and gross.
Ratchet turned to his other patient and bent, extractor ready to remove the offending fruit. He held back his own disgust at smelling the offending odors wafting from Sunstreaker's back end. Ratchet's olfactory sensor was more highly attuned, and as a result, he 'smelled' things in a magnified way. He didn't like the smell of bananas to begin with. Add to the fact there was one that was literally baking in an overheating tailpipe, tinged with diesel and energon exhaust, and Ratchet thought he was going to purge.
A burnt peel was extracted from Sunstreaker, most of the banana's internals having been cooked and then smashed when he transformed. The cooked banana now lined the lower part of Sunstreaker's tailpipe.
"Sorry, Sunstreaker, but you're going to need a flush to extract the rest of the banana pulp," Ratchet said, knowing that no one liked having their systems flushed. Not only was it uncomfortable, but it was embarrassing.
"Sideswipe?" Sunstreaker called, keeping his voice even.
"Yeah?" Sideswipe answered, crawling up on a berth to keep from flying away from the wildly spinning room.
"Just so you know, I plan on killing you," Sunstreaker said, transforming and settling onto the berth beside his twin.
"Great," Sideswipe answered, holding his helm and groaning. Primus, Ratchet sure had a wicked aim.
Ratchet's words of retribution were interrupted when there was a great booming thunder. It started as a distant roar that steadily grew until the entire side of the med bay buckled, before blowing outward in a shower of rock and metal. Being near the back of the medical wing, Ratchet and the twins were out of the path of the destructive fireball that ripped through the mountainside. Had the med ward been full, or someone was stationed at the berths near the door, there was a good chance they would have been terminated. Alarms sounded, Red Alert's voice demanded everyone's exact location, and the whole fiasco was punctuated with Wheeljack's profuse apologies flooding the comm. link.
The sound of several mechs chattering in the comm. link brought Ratchet back to his senses. He pulled himself from the floor, rock falling from his frame, the dust already causing him to itch. He noted the two Lamborghinis were covered in dust, though being immobile on the berths had saved them from the shuddering blast.
"Ratchet?" Sideswipe called, coughing dust from his vents. His head still ached and the room spun, but it now resembled a merry go round in slow motion.
"I'm here," Ratchet answered, gaining his pedes and staggering to the two patients. "Either of you hurt?"
"No," Sunstreaker answered, his hands busy brushing his body to rid himself of the rock dust.
"Head pounds," Sideswipe said, grasping his helm and pressing along his temple.
"Residual echoes from the pressure blast," Ratchet explained, rubbing his own helm. He didn't like the dull roaring in his audios. "It shouldn't last long."
Ratchet grimaced against the onslaught of voices over the comms. He used his medical overrides to yell over the din.
'Injuries. Report. Now!' he said, earning a hushed quiet over the comms.
'My audios hurt,' three voices chimed in unison.
'Mine too,' another added.
'Me too,' came another affirmation.
'My left shoulder has been damaged,' Prowl stated, and his voice was hitched with emotion, causing all listening mechs to quiet. 'Bluestreak has sustained a partially melted doorwing.'
Everyone listening on comms winced. They knew how sensitive the appendages were.
'Put him into emergency stasis until I can get there,' Ratchet instructed, glad he kept the majority of his medical tools on his person instead of in a carrying case.
'Already done,' Prowl said. 'ETA?'
Ratchet looked out across what was once his medical wing and winced at the damage. The front doors were blocked by a pile of semi-melted berths and monitoring equipment. A monitor beeped in false readings as its diagnostics were being slowly melted, the liquid metal dripping in a macabre semblance of expiring life. The floor was charred black, little strips of fire burned in deep gouges caused by the fireball that ripped through. The bulkhead on either side was melted, the cooling metal cascading like a waterfall over the impromptu doors caused by the explosion. The support beams overhead groaned as their structural supports were weakened by the blast.
'I'm currently imprisoned in the medical ward,' Ratchet informed his comrades. 'The blast has taken out half of the medical facility, two structural support beams and several places are set alight. I'm stuck in here.'
'Extraction team to medical ward,' Prime barked over the comms. 'Ratchet is top priority!'
There was a shout of affirmation as the mechs jumped into action. No one objected to the change in priority. If they lost Ratchet, more than just audios and doorwings would be compromised. Ratchet's safety was paramount, his job ensuring that the others survived their injuries. And the first thing the extraction team needed to do, was to create a clear path to their medical officer so he could find the injured and repair them.
Ratchet sent a visual account to the team of mechs assigned to his extraction. If they were going to find a way to get him safely, then they needed as much information as they could get. They relayed their route and estimated time to get Ratchet out. Ratchet confirmed and returned to the side of his two patients, who were glaring in open hostility toward one another. He would have started Sunstreaker's systems flush, but the equipment used in the procedure was now buried under molten slag.
'What is your current location?' Prime transmitted, assisting in removing the debris from outside the medical ward.
'Lost in purgatory,' Ratchet answered, looking around the confined area and seeing both twins exchange hateful glares. There was a fight brewing. Ratchet let out a long suffering sigh, and answered Prime's question. 'Isolation ward three with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.'
'Oh, that bad,' Prime muttered, knowing that having two volatile mechs in an enclosed area wasn't good for the health of those around them. But then again, he forgot Ratchet's unusual method of keeping people under control. Medicinal iron was a sedative he employed often.
'It's okay. I've gotten used to it by now.' Ratchet snorted, tossing two wrenches in perfect tandem, landing both with a satisfying clanks against two idiotic Lamborghini helms.
'Really?' Prime interjected, finding the whole situation amusing now that he realized Ratchet's stern punishment when dealing with idiocy. He had heard the clangs and assorted curses from his two victims.
'Yeah.' Ratchet smiled in that way that made him almost as deadly as Sideswipe. 'It just feels like another day at the office.'
'Well, if you need any help…' Prime offered, though there was little he could do until the work crews were able to clear a path through the debris.
'Wont be a problem. I have a map.' Ratchet smirked, brandishing another wrench, though Prime couldn't see it. Sideswipe instantly stilled his vocalizer and turned away from his twin. Sunstreaker hissed and sneered, rankling his twin and earning a rude gesture in return. 'And Prime?'
'Yes?'
'Tell Wheeljack that his aft plates will not be needed when I beat him,' Ratchet said, fully intent upon giving the crazy inventor a good old fashioned reprimand. Apparently the lectures and taps to the helm didn't work. It was time to try another approach. Something that Sparkplug liked to call "Blistering their ass".
And Ratchet was going to perform his own 'practice run' on two Lamborghinis.
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Reviews are loved and cherished. I don't know if I can keep up this constant pace of uploading, so if I go more than 2 days without a post, don't worry. I fully intend on continuing this story, its just difficult to write out unique plots and ideas that haven't been done to death. All while using the twins designations. Its getting more and more difficult, especially since I have other projects I wish to work on. I'm devoted to writing, I'm just pressed for time and lack the hours needed to give the proper attention to all the projects I'm working on.
Reviews DO help the muse.
Hey.. I rhymed!
