IRONSIDE

Rating: K

Genre: G1

AN: I blame Bluestreak. This fic started out short, but then I realized, it needed some details to get the point across. I hope it doesn't disappoint. And I hope I don't offend with some literary leeway here. You'll see what I mean.

AN: This chapter is for Elita 2, who was the 250th reviewer! And I cant THANK YOU guys enough for all your wonderful reviews and encouragement. It means the world to me. I wish I could post more often, but with so much going on, my muse has been stalled. Hopefully things will settle down in a few weeks and I can get back to the craziness. This chapter is long and unedited, but I didn't want everyone to think I had forgotten them or the story.

LAST NOTE: HOLY FROZEN BAD GUYS! 260 reviews? Gosh! I never thought I'd get so many. Y'all make me blush and grin like an idiot. (points to an overcharged Sideswipe) Like that!

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"Order, order, this court is now in order," Bluestreak called.

"I want high grade brought by a hot femme wearing nothing but her protoform," Sideswipe called, his face alight with demonic glee. He actually thought his order was going to be placed.

"Quiet!" Prowl hissed at his side, giving the red menace a cross look.

"Hey, he was asking for my order," Sideswipe said, giving his companion a blank expression. "It's rude to not answer someone."

"The Honorable Prime is now presiding. All rise," Bluestreak said, keeping to script and looking to Prowl with nervous optics. He didn't want to flub his role, though it was only a mock trial. Sort of.

It all started when Spike moped around the ARK complaining of a homework assignment about the American court system. He could never remember the designations of the ones involved, other than the judge and jury, and the whole idea of prosecuting and defending addled his brain. He wasn't legally minded. Why his teacher insisted the class knew of the criminal justice system, Spike often wondered if she had any contact with the Decepticons. The confusion of the trial and keeping everything in order seemed to be something the Cons would do to confound their enemies. Be the best time to attack.

But as the youngster complained, in walked a bigger oral cavity that spouted just as much whining about justice and declared innocence. Prime had been listening to the human explain how he found the whole legal system confusing, a fact his father was proud of since his son wasn't a criminal, but Prime's attention drifted to the newcomers, his optics lighting up with brilliant thought.

Sideswipe was accused of gluing Ratchet's tools to the work bench. An allegation the Lamborghini was vehemently protesting in Prowl's face as the tactician continued with his duty assignment. Prime thought the 'crime' would serve a dual purpose of educating the young human and giving his soldiers a chance to immerse themselves in local culture.

And so the trial had been scheduled.

Prowl locked up when Prime assigned him as the defense for the Lamborghini, reminding the black and white that all persons were 'innocent until proven guilty'. Prowl had returned to consciousness with a scowl that mirrored Sunstreaker's. Jazz was to be the prosecuting attorney. Ratchet, the accuser. Windcharger, Cliffjumper, Warpath, Ironhide, Blaster, Beachcomber, Tracks, Trailbreaker, Powerglide and Hound were the jury. Bluestreak and Smokescreen shared the duty of being bailiffs and dutifully guarding the judge. Their flared doorwings looked very impressive as they stood sentry. The judge of course was to be Prime, who originally balked at wearing the official regalia associated with judicial office. The other bots and humans settled in the gallery to watch the proceedings, curious as to who would win this battle of the wills. Smokescreen had a wager going on the outcome.

It was right before the trial that Prime learned that American courts didn't wear white old fashioned wigs. Prime threw the wig in a waste receptacle and pulled on his black robes, feeling bloated in the billowy fabric. He briefly wondered where Sideswipe found a white wig that would fit the Prime's regal head.

Prime stepped into the rec room turned courtroom, nodding to his two bailiffs and took his seat. Everyone else in attendance took their seats and waited with bated breathing function. Spike was sitting on Bumblebee's knee, getting a bird's eye view of the proceedings.

"The court is assembled today to hear the case of Ratchet versus Sideswipe," Prime announced, looking over a datapad that Bluestreak had handed to him upon sitting. "The charges are illegal entry into a restricted area, causing mischief, and potentially endangering the crew by tampering with medical equipment." He looked up to the grinning Lamborghini. "How do you plead?"

Sideswipe opened his mouth for a retort but Prowl put his hand over the Lamborghini's mouth, effectively cutting off his comeback. Sideswipe scowled over Prowl's hand, letting his optics speak for him. Sideswipe knew that Prowl was furious over his assignment, and he knew the Praxian didn't believe in his innocence. There was a chance that Prowl would help the prosecutor, just to get back at his biggest menace. However, Prowl surprised Sideswipe.

"We plead not guilty, your honor," Prowl recited, feeling acid rise in his tanks. He couldn't believe he was defending Sideswipe! Was there no real justice in the galaxy?

"Very well, I ask the Prosecutor to call his first witness," Prime said, setting aside his datapad and lacing his fingers together in attentiveness.

Jazz rose and nodded, "I call Ratchet to the stand."

Ratchet rose from the table he shared with Jazz. As he passed by the defendants table, he offered a low growl at Sideswipe's cheeky smile. Ratchet stood on the left side of the judge, Smokescreen approaching and holding out a small black book.

"Raise your right hand and place your left on the book." When Ratchet did so, Smokescreen continued, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you Primus?"

Ratchet nodded, "I swear."

"I swear all the time," Sideswipe adlibbed from the sidelines and earned a kick under the table from his attorney. He glared at Prowl's impassive face and added, "Ow! Not supposed to abuse your client, you know!"

Prowl ignored Sideswipe's hissing and focused on the task at hand. He may not believe his clients innocence, but he be slagged if he let Jazz beat him in a court room setting!

"On the day in question, did you see the defendant in the medical ward?" Jazz asked, leaning against the podium.

"Yes," Ratchet answered.

"What was the reason for his visit?" Jazz asked.

Prowl immediately stood and snapped, "Objection, your honor! Doctor Patient privilege covers the reason for my clients visit."

Prime nodded, "Objection sustained. Continue, Mr. Jazz."

Jazz gave Prowl a dirty look, and tried again. "Did the defendant come into the medical with a legitimate medical complaint?"

"Objection! Doctor Patient privilege protects my clients personal information regarding such matters," Prowl droned, earning a livid stare from Jazz.

"Sustained. Move away from that line of questioning, Councilor," Prime warned Jazz.

Jazz huffed, getting a dirty look from Ratchet because the medic really wanted to spout off a long list of false injuries in order to set up a prank. Ratchet and Jazz had spent the better part of a day going over testimony and facts, smug in the knowledge that they had the case in hand. They forgot what a stickler Prowl was for rules and memorization of regulation.

Jazz narrowed his optics, trying another approach. His own case revolved around Ratchet's testimony. Of course he had another witness up his armor, but he didn't want Prowl to know that.

"Without giving any specific details," Jazz said, giving Prowl a pointed look before returning his attention back to Ratchet, "Had the defendant ever entered the medical facility under false pretenses?"

"Objection," Prowl jumped up again, but Jazz cut across.

"Question reflects the defendants motives and past history," Jazz said, staring at Prime with wide optics, though his visor hid his expression.

"I'll allow it," Prime said, wanting to laugh at Jazz's sigh of relief and Prowl's huff of irritation.

"Yes, he has entered the medical facility many times with a phantom symptom," Ratchet said, glad they were able to get on track.

"And these preceded a prank?" Jazz prompted.

"Yes," Ratchet said, wanting so desperately to subspace a wrench and inflict his own brand of justice.

"Care to elaborate on the definition of a 'prank'?" Jazz asked.

Prowl snapped to his pedes so fast, Sideswipe wondered if he didn't have a spring in his aft. "Objection! Leading the witness!"

"Offering examples that are already on record for verification," Jazz said, going to his small desk and grabbing a datapad. "I entered this datapad as Exhibit A."

Prime took the offered datapad and touched the screen, highlighting the sections of interest. After a few seconds of scrutiny, Prime nodded to Jazz.

"Exhibit A has been received in evidence. Proceed," Prime said, wanting to scratch where the material from his robe was rubbing the transformation seams along his neck and arms. It was very itchy, whatever this material was. He was glad he didn't have to wear clothes like the humans. It was very annoying.

"Examples of previous behavior?" Jazz prompted.

"Feigned injuries that will go unmentioned for sake of confidentiality," Ratchet said, giving Prowl a triumphant look that had the doorwinger bristling. "But after said visitations, I have found my tools missing, rearranged, replaced with plastic replicas, covered in heavy lubricants making them impossible to grasp, and various parts missing from my supplies that were later found in the structure of pranks and other joke related materials."

Sideswipe offered a cheeky grin, waggling his brow plating at Ratchet. Which was the wrong thing to do.

"You aft!" Ratchet snarled, wrench in hand. He knew Sideswipe was guilty and though he wanted to assist the human boy in his education, this mock trial was a farce and it irritated his circuits to see his worst menace so nonchalant. "You're going to suffer!"

"Objection! Intimidating the defendant!" Prowl cried, springing to his pedes in that lightning quick way.

Sideswipe wondered what type of shocks the Datsun used. He may be switching brands.

"Sustained!" Prime barked, earning a burning look from Ratchet. "You will refrain from threatening anyone in my courtroom."

"Going a little far with this, aren't you?" Ratchet asked, knowing good and well that he had full medical authority to slag the whole lot of em.

Prime slammed his gavel on his desk, startling several bots. "I find you in contempt of court! One hundred dollars!"

Ratchet gave a quirked brow, knowing there was no way in the Pit he was going to be paying currency to anyone, regardless of the proper courtroom etiquette.

Jazz cleared his intakes, trying to regain control. He cleared his intakes three times before Prime and Ratchet broke their staring contest and returned their attention to him.

"So, there is a previous history of such childish behavior from the defendant?" Jazz prompted.

"Objection!" Prowl snapped.

"Oh, stuff it," Jazz snapped back, fully irritated. This courtroom thing was a lot harder than it looked on tv.

"Council will refrain from possible verbal attacks and stick to the case at hand," Prime said, really getting into the role. He tugged at his collar, scratching along his neck at the itchy material.

Jazz leaned one elbow on the podium and sighed in exasperation, "Has Sideswipe ever glued your instruments in any way shape or form?"

"Yes," Ratchet said, glaring at Prowl and daring him to object again. There was a wrench with the Praxian's name on it. "He has glued parts onto my tools, cut off pieces and glued them elsewhere, and has glued numerous patients to their berths." Ratchet turned to Prime with a sneer and added, "They are willing to testify to this account and the transgressions are logged in both their personal charts and in my main log. Feel free to use the information."

Prime nodded, having already skimmed through the long list of offended parties on the datapad.

"No further questions," Jazz said, taking his seat and giving a sullen look to Prowl as he stood.

Prowl straightened his posture, if possible, flaring his door wings as he stepped toward the podium. He opted to remain rigid instead of leaning.

"The day in question, what were you doing at the time of my clients visit?" Prowl asked, unimpressed by Ratchet's glare.

Ratchet mumbled something, looking disgruntled.

"I'm sorry, I did not hear. Please, speak up for the record," Prowl stated, earning a look that could melt his circuits. Thank Primus he was constructed of heavier alloys.

"I said I was repairing some equipment," Ratchet said, his tone dripping with acid.

"In what manner were you repairing?" Prowl asked.

"Wheeljack had broken the protective glass on a spanner and I was gluing on a shatterproof piece of plastic," Ratchet said, his arms crossing his chassis as he glared. He knew where this was leading.

"Have you used this glue on other occasions?"

"Yes."

"Have you replaced other broken items in such a fashion?"

"Yes. I don't have the resources to buy brand new."

"Please keep your answers limited to the question." Prowl chastised, unknowing getting a death sentence from the medic. There was a chance Prowl was going to be murdered that night. "The epoxy you allege my client used to glue your instruments to the table, is it the same compound used to fix damaged instruments in the medical facility?"

"Yes," Ratchet grumbled, his engine rumbling in anger.

"Did you see my client around the instruments and glue in question?"

"No, but he's a sneaky fragger." Ratchet gave Sideswipe a look of pure loathing, to which the red warrior just smiled and drank in the attention.

"Objection. Personal opinion." Prowl said, looking to Prime who was rubbing his collar.

"Sustained. Jury will disregard the statement," Prime said.

Sideswipe looked crestfallen. He knew he was a sneaky fragger. Everyone knew it. It was more fact than opinion. He felt hurt by Prime's dismissal.

"Did my client have any residue on his person associated with glue or other binding agents?" Prowl asked.

"I didn't check," Ratchet admitted, feeling thoroughly put out.

"So admittedly you accused my client of sabotaging your instruments though you did not see him near them and did not see any evidence on his person to validate such a claim," Prowl reiterated.

"I may have not have caught him with his sticky fingers in the energon cookies, but he sure as slag committed the crime," Ratchet said in his stern way that made bots rattling their plating in fear.

Prowl was immune. "Objection, Your Honor."

"Sustained. Jury will disregard," Prime said.

"Is it possible you had misplaced your epoxy and however inadvertently, glued your own tools to the workbench?" Prowl asked

"No. I'm very careful with both my tools and the glue," Ratchet said. "I don't make mistakes."

"So, you are infallible?" Prowl asked.

"No, I'm not saying that," Ratchet huffed angrily through his vents. Oh, he was going to show Prowl a thing or two about glues when the tactician needed his medical expertise.

"You claim that you don't make mistakes, but that is a false statement," Prowl said in his infuriating way that made bots want to throttle him. "You are capable of making mistakes just like anyone. Are you not?"

"I… well, I mean, everyone can make a mistake," Ratchet sputtered, but Prowl interrupted.

"No more questions," Prowl said, taking his seat.

"Witness is excused," Prime said to Ratchet.

Ratchet huffed and stalked back to his seat beside of Jazz. They were barely within hissing distance when Ratchet started to seethe at his representative.

"Call your next witness," Prime ordered.

"I call Mirage to the stand," Jazz said, shushing Ratchet.

Mirage ventured out of the audience and took the stand. Smokescreen came forth, holding the small black book and recited, "Raise your right hand and place your left on the book." When Mirage had complied, though looking in his simpering, haughty way, Smokescreen continued, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you Primus?"

"On my honor," Mirage said in his cultured tone.

"Very well, be seated," Smokescreen said, returning to his post and flaring his door wings. He was really getting into the spirit of the trial.

Mirage took his seat and watched Jazz saunter to the podium.

"On the day in question did you witness the defendant exiting the medical ward?" Jazz asked.

"Yes." Mirage answered, not bothering to look at the front liner. Sideswipe and his type of people didn't mingle well with the crowd that Mirage was used to. He had little use of the warrior.

"Did the defendant display any physical attributes associated with an injury or illness?" Jazz asked, canting his head in Prowl's direction.

But Prowl remained impassive, just watching with a neutral expression.

"No," Mirage said. "But I am not a medic and was not present during the time of possible treatment."

Jazz smiled, knowing he picked the right witness. "What would you describe as his state of being?"

Sideswipe looked to Prowl, hoping for some sort of response, but the tactician simply sat and stared at the witness. Sideswipe waved his hand in front of Prowl's face, thinking he had locked up. A little kick under the table was his reprimand.

"He was in a good mood," Mirage said.

"Care to elaborate?" Jazz asked.

"As he exited the medical ward he was smiling and rubbing his servos together." Mirage clasped his hands and rolled them around like a movie villain crowing over the hero. He adopted a devilish look that made Sideswipe perk up, noting the Noble looked rather handsome when he was imitating a Lamborghini.

"That was the expression you witnessed outside of the medical ward?" Jazz reiterated for the benefit of the jury.

"Yes."

"Not a look of pain or worry or even anger?" Jazz asked.

"No. He seemed to be in high spirits," Mirage intoned, chancing a glance to the defendant's table and offering his customary Tower sneer.

Jazz switched up tactics, hoping to throw Prowl off. The silent monochromatic wraith at the opposite table was starting to unnerve him. He didn't understand why Prowl had yet to speak. He had been quite verbal when Ratchet was on the stand.

"Being a member of Special Ops and having extensive training in observation and behavior," Jazz said, letting the jury and his quarry know the witness's level of reliance, "How would you describe the defendant's actions?"

"The way he rubbed his hands together is indicative of one trying to remove something offensive from their person." Mirage gave another look, this time directed toward Prowl, as if daring the Praxian to argue against his credentials.

Sideswipe looked again to Prowl, waiting to hear his favorite expression and do his impression of a loaded spring. But Prowl remained stationary, just staring blankly at the witness.

"Did you see any evidence on the defendant? Like glue or any part of his armor that was tacky where glue may have spilled unnoticed?" Jazz asked, hoping to beat Prowl to the punch.

Mirage gave a slight nod as he answered, "Other than the curious way he wiped at his servos, no I did not see any spilled glue or anything stuck to his person."

"What happened next?" Jazz prompted, getting a little worried about Prowl's silence.

"Out of curiosity I followed Sideswipe to the wash racks, where he immediately washed his servos before stepping into the shower," Mirage explained. "Five minutes later, I heard Ratchet yelling about his tools being glued to the table and shouting for Sideswipe."

Sideswipe looked to Prowl and found him as impassive as ever. Sideswipe jumped to his feet, pointing at Prowl and yelled, "Objection your honor! My attorney died five minutes ago!"

"Sit down, Idiot," Prowl said, grasping the ruby warrior by the wrist and yanking him down hard onto his seat.

Sideswipe's aft made a loud ringing noise as he landed. It took him a few seconds to collect his wits. He turned to Prowl, face expectant.

"Do something! You're just sitting there!" Sideswipe hissed.

"Sit down, shut up, and allow me to do my job," Prowl said in a serious tone, his optics blazing.

Sideswipe deflated. He gave a sullen glare to the witness stand, then to Prime, then a curled sneer to Jazz, who was regarding their table with a laughable expression. Sideswipe flipped him off.

"One more outburst and I'll find you in contempt," Prime said, giving Sideswipe a look that made the front liner wither.

"This is contemptible," Sideswipe muttered under his breath.

"No more questions, Your Honor," Jazz said, going back to his seat with a triumphant flippancy.

"Very well, your witness, Mr. Prowl," Prime said, rubbing his arms.

Prowl gave a look of annoyance at the title, but remembered this was a learning experience for the teenage human and the Cybertronians. Prowl took the podium and ignored the superior look sent his way by the Tower mech.

"On the day in question, did you follow the defendant to the washracks in visual form or while cloaked?" Prowl asked.

"Cloaked," Mirage said, giving Prowl a disconcerting look.

"You are aware of section eighty-seven dash fourteen subsection alpha?" Prowl asked, knowing the Noble was full aware of the stated regulation. He had been chastised with it since his enlistment. When Mirage remained tight lipped, Prowl elaborated, "To refresh your memory, it states that no Autobot may use their abilities or weapons against another Autobot and that all specialty equipment must be offlined or removed from your person to prevent accidental damage to the owner and any possible innocent bystanders."

Mirage gave a gruff grunt. Usually his electro-disruptor was off, the power cells draining a lot of energy that needed to be conserved when not in a battle field condition. While on base, there was no need to sneak in and out of places unseen. It was a place of safety and security and those on base were considered brothers in arms, allies to the cause, and therefore, should be treated with respect. Not to mention, sneaking around cloaked was just plain rude. Everyone was entitled to their privacy. It was uncouth to follow a bot and watch them during their private down time. It was also very creepy.

"Your Honor, due to the illegal way this witness obtained his information, I ask that his testimony be struck from the record," Prowl said, turning to Prime and giving him that annoying superiority look that grated on the twins' nerves.

"Due to his training in special ops and the fact that the witness did not cause harm to a person or to any sensitive equipment, I will allow his testimony," Prime said, enjoying the way Prowl ruffled at his words.

Prowl puffed his door wings, his frame rigid. He wasn't a happy Praxian. Being the consummate professional, albeit a mock trial, Prowl cleared his vocalizer and continued his line of questioning.

"Aside from your flagrant disregard to rules and the illegality of your actions, you stated you witnessed the defendant leaving the medical ward and proceeded to follow him to the washracks, where you witnessed him performing personal maintenance," Prowl recited, earning a twisted sneer from Sideswipe. Prime rolled his optics. Mirage looked very uncomfortable. He didn't like being reprimanded. Especially by someone who wasn't of high birth. "Is this correct?"

Mirage pursed his lip plating so tight, his oral cavity nearly collapsed in on itself. "Yes."

"And you have been reprimanded many times for performing the same illegal recognizance on your fellow Autobots. Is that correct?" Prowl prompted.

"Objection!" Jazz said, finally able to use Prowl's favorite word against him. "Badgering the witness! Mirage is not on trial here."

"Stating facts in evidence and pertaining to the witnesses creditability," Prowl said.

Prime gave a slow nod in thought. "I'll allow it, but watch yourself, Mr. Prowl."

Prowl nodded in understanding before returning his attention back to Mirage. "So while performing an unauthorized observation, and using your cloaking ability against regulation, you witnessed the defendant wiping his hands?"

"Yes," Mirage said, not liking the look Prowl was giving him.

"The medical facility is full of fluids and contaminants. Could it be that the defendant had accidentally placed his hand in lubricant or some other viscous fluid and was trying to remove it from his person?" Prowl asked, hearing the low groan from Sideswipe. Apparently the front liner thought his attorney was trying to help the prosecution.

"It's possible," Mirage said, optics narrowing.

"And as you followed your fellow Autobot to the wash racks," Mirage bristled at the implication but Prowl continued on nonetheless, "You witnessed him wash not only his hands, but his frame as well?"

"Yes," Mirage admitted, earning another sour look from Sideswipe.

"With your extensive training and knowledge," Prowl said, throwing Mirage's credentials back at him. "Is that indicative of a mech who has handled glue or any other sticky substance?"

"No," Mirage admitted. "Unless he rolled in the glue, there would be no reason why he would need to wash his frame if he only handled the glue with his hands."

"Logically speaking, he was merely bathing to remove unpleasant soil from his person?" Prowl said, trying to clarify the situation.

"Yes," Mirage said in a tone that meant he'd given up. He gave Jazz a disgusted look, which was returned.

"No further questions," Prowl said, retaking his seat.

"You're excused," Prime said, nodding for Mirage to vacate the witness stand. The Noble did so with grace and dignity, though Sideswipe and a couple other mechs gave him incredulous and disgusted looks. "Call your next witness."

"The prosecution rests," Jazz said with an acidic bite.

"Very well. Defense may call their first witness," Prime said, giving Prowl the go ahead.

"I call Sunstreaker to the stand," Prowl said, earning several startled looks. Sideswipe even gasp, sitting back down in his seat with a stunned expression turned toward his counsel.

Sunstreaker frowned but left the audience, going to the witness stand and adopting the same pose as everyone else. When Smokescreen approached, he scowled, thinking the Autobot forces had gone mad to entertain such a stupid form of justice. Everyone knew you should just slag anyone who offends you and their corpse served as a warning to others who tried to cross you. It was basic justice, understood throughout the galaxy.

Smokescreen settled the black book he carried onto the stand and pulled out another, slightly smaller book. He knew Sunstreaker didn't hold to any religion, let alone a religion from an alien planet, so the normal swearing in of the witness wouldn't work on him. He could still lie through his grill and not bat and optic. So Smokescreen had devised an alternative for the vain, hardened mech.

"Left hand on the book and raise your right," Smokescreen said presenting the small book to the golden twin.

Sunstreaker went to spout his empty promise when he halted, his servo hovering over the offered book. It was an owner's manual for a Lamborghini. Tentatively he placed his servo on the book and looked to Smokescreen, who had a triumphant look on his face.

"Do you swear on your tech specs, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help your alt mode?" Smokescreen asked, augmenting the phrase to fit the problematic mech.

"I…. do?" Sunstreaker said, unsure how he was supposed to answer.

"You share a link with your twin that allows you to share emotion and feelings?" Prowl asked, keeping his expression calm, though a door wing twitched. Smokescreen caught the subtle flutter and gave the tactician a quirky grin, which instantly stilled the speaking appendage.

"Yes." Sunstreaker said flatly. Why Prowl chose to drag him into this mess, he'd never know. But the annoying Praxian may get slagged next time on the battle field, and not by the enemy.

The link was common knowledge but Prowl wanted to establish a baseline for his questioning.

"When one senses something, the other senses it as well?" Prowl prompted.

"Yes."

"On the day in questions, did you sense anything from your twin?"

"Like what?"

"Any happiness or giddiness?" Prowl asked, wishing to convey Sideswipe's rather transparent emotional displays.

"He always feels that. I think it's an infection."

"Any particular sensation due to a prank?" Prowl asked, trying to keep Sunstreaker focused on the trial. He noted the golden mech was staring to shift uncomfortably.

"Like what?" Sunstreaker responded, not sure what the black and white officer was fishing for.

"Like, achievement and elation for a prank well executed?"

"No."

"Joy or mischievous sensation associated with pulling a prank?"

"No."

"And these sensations are present when your twin is playing a joke?" Prowl asked.

"Every time," Sunstreaker admitted, getting a dangerous look from his twin.

"Did you brother share with you any details regarding his visit?"

"No."

"Would he?"

"If there was a joke involved, more than likely." Sunstreaker said, getting tired of the questions. Not to mention there was a dark thrumming through the bond he shared with said twin. Apparently Sideswipe was rather unhappy at the moment.

"He has shared information with you regarding pranks in the past?"

"Some details, yes."

"Bragging?"

"Always."

"Did he brag during this incident?"

"No."

"Your connection gives you a unique insight?"

"Obviously." Sunstreaker now looked annoyed, bordering on angered.

"No more questions." Prowl said, retaking his seat.

Jazz stepped forward, giving Sunstreaker a dubious look. "You can feel your brother's emotions all the time?"

"No."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Answer the questions or I'll find you in contempt." Prime said, knowing Sunstreaker's reputation. The front liner was notorious for flippant disregard and annoyance with rules and proper regulation.

Sunstreaker offered a raised brow and sneered, "You want to educate me on contempt?"

Jazz cleared his voice, interrupting what could have been an epic battle. "Is your twin able to block his emotions from you?"

"Yes."

"So you can't always know his state of mind? Because he blocks off his part of the bond?"

"Yes"

"Is it possible he blocked off his side of the bond while participating in a prank which lead to Ratchet's tools being glued to the workbench?" Jazz asked.

"Yes," Sunstreaker said, and added with a bored, frustrated sigh, "Anything is possible with my brother."

"No further questions." Jazz said, returning to his seat and giving Prowl a superior look which the other council ignored.

Sunstreaker left the witness stand and gave Jazz a contemptuous look that the mech brushed off as being Sunstreaker's usual self. He really didn't like being around others. The only reason he was suffering through the indignity of staying in the make shift courtroom was to support his twin. Though Sideswipe's look of retribution was doing little to calm Sunstreaker's demeanor. There was a chance a fight was going to break out later.

"I call Sideswipe to the stand," Prowl said.

Sideswipe practically raced to the stand, his servos poised before Smokescreen gained his side.

Smokescreen held out the same owners manual and repeated, "Do you swear on your tech specs to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help your alt mode?"

"Yes," Sideswipe said, taking a seat and beaming in child like giddiness. He was having way too much fun. He planned on suggesting these little mock scenarios on a regular basis. And he was going to suggest Sunstreaker be a witness to all of them!

"On the day in question, did you visit the medical ward?" Prowl asked.

"Objection, that doctor patient thing!" Jazz shouted, jumping from his seat.

"Just confirming a visitation, not for personal information." Prowl said, a door wing twitching.

"Sustained, Go ahead." Prime said, nodding toward Prowl.

"Yes," Sideswipe confirmed.

"Did you go to the medical ward with the intention of pulling a prank?"

"No. My visit was because Earth's terrain is inhospitable to sporty vehicles and I needed Ratchet to check to see if there was any damage from a recent patrol."

"Objection!" Jazz said.

"I'm volunteering the information," Sideswipe said.

"I'll allow it," Prime said, rubbing the fabric against his metal skin.

"Did you see Ratchet?"

"No," Sideswipe answered, going so far as to give the medic a sad look. "I heard him shouting and didn't think it was wise to bother him."

"Shouting?" Prowl asked.

"Yeah, he was yelling about Wheeljack breaking something and how ungrateful the Autobots are and how he should let all of us rust," Sideswipe said, giving Ratchet a look that was returned, ten fold. Ratchet always ranted. It was his second job on the ARK. "I didn't want to bother him, so I left."

"Why did you leave?" Prowl prompted, hoping to convey the innocent visit. He really wanted to win this case. Even if he didn't like his client in the least.

"We all know what Ratchet's like when he's in one of his moods," Sideswipe said, and there was a general murmur amongst the crowd. Even the jurors were nodding in agreement. "So I left, hoping to wash off whatever was rubbing my circuits the wrong way."

"You had something on your servos?" Prowl said, wanting his client to get to specifics. It was all about cold hard facts.

"Yeah. Gunky," Sideswipe curled his olfactory sensor and added, "Then I realized I had the gunky stuff all over me. Well, you know what its like when you have something nasty in your undercarriage. So I went to the racks and scrubbed down." He gave a contemptuous look toward Mirage, "I didn't know I was being watched."

"And did you molest any medical instrument while in the infirmary?" Prowl asked.

"Nope," Sideswipe said. "I went in, heard Ratchet yelling, looked at my filthy chassis, which was covered in grime because some forgetful bot scheduled a Lamborghini to take the Ocean View Drive patrol and the sand, silt, salty air, and the sludge-like muck that habitually covers that road got into my systems and made me feel like a true ground crawler."

Prowl ignored the slight against him. He had schedule Sideswipe on that route as a punishment. He knew how rough and disgusting that terrain could become. He hoped to teach the mouthy front liner a lesson. Apparently it didn't sink in.

"And when Ratchet discovered the tools glued to the work bench, where were you?" Prowl asked.

Sideswipe nodded toward the audience. "In the shower with Mirage."

Several snickers broke out along the audience, causing Mirage's face plates to darken in embarrassment. He wasn't going to live this down for a while.

"So you didn't molest Ratchet's equipment?" Prowl asked, the words coming out before he had a chance to recall his subject's mentality.

Sideswipe's stricken face was his answer. "I most certainly did not!" He looked around to the Autobots as a whole and gasped in mock fear, "That's perverted!"

The small giggles became a wave of laughter. Prime banged his gavel, face stern, though he had to struggle to contain his mirth.

"Order in this court! I said Order!"

"I'm still waiting on that femme," Sideswipe purred, giving Prime a cheeky look.

"Keep it up, and I'll find you in contempt!" Prime barked, trying to regain control of the situation. Sideswipe had an uncanny knack of sending things spiraling in all directions. He was like a birthing universe of chaos and contradiction.

"Actually, I'm contagious, not contemptible," Sideswipe beamed.

"Enough!" Prowl barked, making Sideswipe jump and sit upright in his seat. When he had Sideswipe's undivided attention, Prowl continued, "You did not bother any of the medical tools on the work bench during the short time you were in the medical ward?"

"No," Sideswipe said, matching Prowl's stern expression.

"No further questions," Prowl said, taking his seat.

Jazz sauntered up to the podium, customary smile in place. Sideswipe gave him a quirked brow ridge, but didn't rise to the bait.

"Sideswipe, you have a reputation of pulling pranks, is that correct?" Jazz asked.

"I share the reputation with many members of the crew, yourself included," Sideswipe answered. He missed Prowl's startled expression.

"I'm not the one on trial here," Jazz said, waggling a finger at the ruby warrior and getting a glower in answer. "On the day in question, you claimed you went to see Ratchet but changed your mind? Explain to the court, the reasoning behind your short visit."

"Like I said, Ratchet was shouting about Wheeljack and the general incompetence of the Autobots," Sideswipe said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chassis in silent defiance. "Everyone knows what he's like when he's in one of those moods."

Several heads nodded, and words of affirmation were exchanged. Ratchet turned in his seat and glared at the muttering bots, who instantly shut their vocalizers. Wheeljack gave a sheepish wave. He knew he was responsible for a lot of Ratchet's volatile ire.

"So your injuries evaporated?" Jazz asked, looking stunned.

"Wasn't injured, just had some aches that I wanted Ratchet to check so they couldn't become an injury later," Sideswipe amended. "But when I heard Ratchet yelling, I thought I'd feel better if I scrubbed up first. If the aches were still there, I was going to go back."

Jazz flickered his visor. After a minute he sighed, "No further questions."

"You are excused," Prime said, watching as Sideswipe bounced from the witness stand and back to his seat. "I will now hear closing arguments."

Jazz got to his pedes and walked to the jurors, his expression firmly fixed to the jovial, fun loving bot everyone knew and loved.

"Mechs of the jury, you have heard the evidence." Jazz started, taking brief pauses and pointing to each member of the jury for emphasis. "The defendant is notorious for pulling pranks and has an extended history as proof. His twin admitted he can shut down their bond as to not give away his intentions. A witness saw him leaving the medical ward, wiping his servos as if removing a sticky substance. A few minutes after this optic witness account, Ratchet found his tools glued to the work bench. We all know that he did it. He's done it before. It's up to you to find him guilty and allow him to be punished for this act, or next time, it could be either one of you who is glued for entertainment."

Jazz walked back to his seat, Ratchet giving him an appraising optic. Prowl stood, flexing his shoulders, his door wings fluttering as he remained at his table, not wanting to give the illusion of trying to intimidate the jury.

"My colleague would have you believe there is evidence," Prowl started. "But there is no such evidence. My client admits to making a visit to the medical officer for a structural concern and after hearing said medical officer in a state of angered distress, my client left to attend his personal hygiene. The prosecutors witness has confirmed my client was attending his personal maintenance when said tools were found glued into place. The accuser has admitted to using the very epoxy that affixed his tools to the work bench. There was no residual evidence on my client to substantiate a claim of mischievous intent. Therefore, my fellow Cybertronians, you can only find my client not guilty of these charges."

"Very well," Prime said, turning to the assembled bots. "Jury is dismissed to reach a verdict. Please inform your bailiff when you have made your decision."

The jury shuffled out, already muttering to each other in hushed tones. The rest of the crew dispersed, grabbing a cube and debating on what the jury was going to decide. Spike scribbled out several notes, and since he was engrossed in his writing, Bumblebee left his young charge to his thoughts. Fifteen minutes later, Smokescreen called for everyone to return, Spike giving a pitiful whine as he was caught in the middle of his report and wanting to find out the verdict.

Prime took his seat and waited until everyone else was comfortable and nodded to Ironhide, who was enacting at the foreman for the jury. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have," Ironhide said, giving a nod and turning his attention to Sideswipe, who looked rather frightened. Apparently he didn't hold much stock in the sagacity of his comrades.

"On the first charge of illegal entry into a restricted area?" Prime asked.

"We find the defendant, not guilty," Ironhide said, and it looked like the words cost him a great deal of integrity.

"The second charge of causing mischief?" Prime asked, and it took all of his considerable will power to keep from laughing. Sideswipe was the poster bot for mischief.

"We find the defendant not guilty…. this time," Ironhide said, giving Sideswipe a foul look.

"And the final charge of endangering the crew by gluing medical instruments to a table?" Prime asked, finding Ironhide's expression to be very entertaining. Whatever was going on inside the weapons specialist processor was really wrecking havoc on his emotions.

"We find the defendant, not guilty," Ironhide said as he curled his lip in distaste.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Spike whooped, then grabbed his pen and started scribbling again. Sideswipe grabbed his brother in a hug that made Sunstreaker hiss and spit. A couple of bots turned to Mirage and asked if he would like to accompany them to the showers. The Noble sniffed in his unctuous socialite way and left the room with the air of one suffering from the idiocy of their companions.

"Congratulations," Jazz said with a sullen tone, holding out his hand for Prowl to take.

Prowl accepted the offer and gave a curt nod. "You performed admirably. The verdict could have gone either way."

"I do wonder how he did it," Jazz said, giving Sideswipe a curious look.

"I wonder that myself," Prowl admitted.

The two officers exchanged exasperated looks and went to Smokescreen, who was giving the tallies for wins and offering condolences to the losers. Ratchet skulked off to lick his proverbial wounds. No doubt there were going to be numerous dented helms in future med bay visits. Ratchet was known to hold a grudge like no other.

Sunstreaker extracted himself from his brother's bear hug, growling oaths that would have scared Megatron into hiding.

"Let's go celebrate!" Sideswipe crooned, wrapping his arm around his brother's waist and directing him to the door.

Sunstreaker snarled at the approaching bots who congratulated Sideswipe. Sideswipe took it all in stride, thanking them and accepting their offers for celebratory drinks later. Sunstreaker bristled, not liking the close proximity of some mechs and feeling very uneasy with all the attention. Sideswipe steered his twin out the door toward their private quarters, knowing Sunstreaker was going to need a few shots of stout high grade to attend the party later.

When they reached the privacy of their quarters, Sunstreaker shut the door and turned his to his brother.

"So, how did you do it?" he asked.

Sideswipe's smile was the embodiment of wicked delight. He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "Axel grease on the hands. Glue has difficulty in adhering to it."

"You know Prowl will find some way to make sure you pay?" Sunstreaker said, giving his head a shake at the brilliance of his twin. "He knows you did it. It's only a matter of time before he figures it out and you get punished."

"Yeah," Sideswipe said, sliding back a hidden panel and extracting a cube of bright purple high grade. "But won't he have fun trying to figure it out!"

It was later that week that Prowl was seen performing a strange, shuffling kind of walk as he exited the medical wing, his aft plates glued together.

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I totally blame Bluestreak for this! I try to make these rather short, 15 pages or less. This one… got away from me. I apologize for its length but as you can tell, there really wasn't a way to shorten it without losing some of the drama/fun. And I do hope I got the legal crap right. I've had limited classes in criminal justice.

This chapter was really hurried and I apologize for any mistakes. I'll get to work on the next chapter here as soon as I get some inspiration. Time is really difficult right now and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Any positive emotion sent my way would really bolster my spirits. (triple digit heat, constant power outages, houseguest, taking care of 97yr old grandmother, and having to cook meals every day for twice the usual amount of people) I would go on vacation but with my luck, I'd end up as a stereotypical character on LOST!