Ghostly ReSIDEnt

AN: THANK YOU ALEXLUKE for your awesome support and feedback!

AN2: yes, I know it's stretching the 'side' bit, but hey, SIDE is in resident, reside, president, so they are still options. Shoot, I used 'pest-i-side' and that was spelled wrong. Come on, give me a break! Titles can be difficult when nothing really 'fits' with the insanity of the week! Lol

AN3: Author could use some encouragement…. Or a month long beach vacation and a million dollars…. Or a private island…. I'm flexible :D

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"Remind me again, what are we doing out here?" Sideswipe asked for the millionth time.

"Tracking systems," Jazz reiterated. "Ratchet's calibrations need to be precise."

"And why we were volunteered?"

"We're the quickest?" Jazz guessed, scanning the surroundings.

"While remaining stationary in coordinates already predetermined by the mech who is currently hunting us?" Sideswipe elaborated.

Jazz opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, mulling over Sideswipe's logic.

"This is pointless. We can easily stay at base and do these calibrations," Sideswipe groused, settling low on his tires.

It was a difficult feat as he was in his sporty, low slung alt mod. Sitting in the middle of a dense forest. A tree root poking him in the lower chassis. Surrounded by thick green vegetation, tall canopy of trees and a variety of Earthen creatures scurrying about. He rolled forward a couple of inches to alleviate the pain of the root when he discovered another one, this one under his driver side tire.

There was also an abandoned shack and nearly one hundred chunks of rock slabs arranged in rows.

"What is this place?" Sideswipe asked, crushing the root under his tire and giving him some reprieve.

Jazz glanced about lazily. "Graveyard."

"Creepy." Sideswipe muttered.

"Especially when you factor in the history of this area," Jazz grunted, leaning against a tree taller than himself and relaxing his posture.

"What history?" Sideswipe goaded. Usually he didn't care about human history, but he was bored out of his transmission. He welcomed a distraction.

"Spike was telling Bumblebee about it, so you can ask him," Jazz waved a hand airily. "Something about the people in this town going missing."

"Missing?"

"Yeah, and it was really weird, too," Jazz put in, picking distractedly at a tree branch. "Town was founded about a hundred and fifty years ago. There were one hundred and fourteen settlers."

Sideswipe ran his scanners, counting the tombstones.

"There are one hundred and fourteen graves," he reported.

"Yup," Jazz said, gazing out along the overgrown graveyard. "The weird thing is, according to local history, the town was flourishing, quickly becoming the center of trade for this area. Then suddenly…nothing. Total blackout. When humans came to investigate, they found one hundred and fourteen fresh graves."

"Wait, you telling me some one or some thing terminated the entire human settlers and buried them… here?" Sideswipe asked incredulously.

Jazz shrugged, tossing the broken branch over his shoulder and dusting off his servos.

"You'll have to ask Spike." Jazz gave a stretch, popping his joints. "I didn't hear the entire history report, so I'm not sure of the details."

Sideswipe hummed, rolling forward a couple of feet to avoid a nearby tombstone.

"How much longer do we have to be here?" he asked nervously.

"Until Ratchet gives us the all clear," Jazz said, strolling around the perimeter of the graveyard. Unlike Sideswipe who was in vehicular mode, Jazz was free to move about the area.

"This is so pointless," Sideswipe groused, lifting his tire to avoid another root.

"Ratchet said this area is rich with ores that messes with telemetry," Jazz interjected, plopping himself down and picking at the surrounding vegetation. "He needs specific calibrations for various Earthen terrain so if we're ever separated in battle, we can mask our EM fields and blend into the terrain to escape Cons."

"Why isn't Sunstreaker doing this?" Sideswipe asked before he could stop himself.

Jazz poked at a small box turtle making its weary through the leaves in a rutted animal track.

"You have to ask after he blew up a grocery store?" Jazz asked offhandedly. He smirked at Sunstreaker's flair for the dramatic.

"Well, they wouldn't take his coupon," Sideswipe snorted. "Ratchet shouldn't have volunteered him. He knows what Sunny is like."

Sideswipe rocked back and forth on his tires, wanting to hit the open road and feel the wind through his grill. He hated being idle.

Ratchet's voice came over comms, interrupting further conversation.

"Jazz, Sideswipe, your turn."

Both answered affirmative and lowered their EM fields, disappearing from each other's sensors.

"Did you do it?" Ratchet asked after a minute.

"Yes, slag it!" Sideswipe snapped, both over comms and out loud.

"Slag," Ratchet swore violently. "Heading your way. Remain stationary."

"What else do you expect us to do in this boring place?" Sideswipe bit back.

Sideswipe growled in his engine making Jazz shiver. The mech had an audio fixation that was sometimes unhealthy. Knowledge Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, used against the special ops mech on a regular basis.

Not that Jazz complained.

Ratchet appeared with a scan-coder and waved it between the two mechs.

"Well, the dampening field works best in root mode," Ratchet said, scanning Jazz and finding his signal weaker. Ratchet made an adjustment, sending the information to Jazz, who adjusted his frequency accordingly. Within seconds Jazz disappeared from the scanner.

"These Earthen metals really slag up our camouflaging technology," Ratchet said, directing the scanner to Sideswipe who was in alt mode. He made a few changes, then sent the message adjustment to the Lamborghini who obeyed the instructions and altered his EM field. He too disappeared off Ratchet's scanners.

All three mechs logged the coordinates and bio rhythmic adjustments into their main diagnostics. If the need ever arose for them to take refuge in the inhospitable region, they'd know the best frequency to utilize and keep them hidden from Decepticon radar.

Jazz stretched and caused a couple woodland critters to scurry away.

"So, what's next, doc bot?" he asked. Being Special Ops, he was used to long periods of immobility and evading detection.

"Prowl and Bluestreak are two hundred miles south," Ratchet said, putting away his scanner. "Let's go find them."

"Come on, Sides, let's go find our favorite doorwingers," Jazz said, knowing how much Sideswipe adored the doorwing design.

Sideswipe transformed, optics overly bright with the prospect of hunting for Praxians. He sneered at the covered ground, glad to be putting distance between the irksome foliage and creepy surroundings. He was more than ready to hit the road and exercise his engine. He twitched, feeling a strange sensation along his tanks.

Passing it off, he fell into step behind Jazz, who paused, glancing around the neglected graveyard.

"The rest of you, stay here," Jazz said, offering a shiver and hastening after Ratchet toward the main road, Sideswipe hurrying in the rear.

As they ventured through the dense forest, Sideswipe was glad Sunstreaker wasn't with them. He'd never stop complaining about the trees and sap that was attracted to Cybertronian bodies. Not to mention there were animals everywhere. And bugs.

And having to hide in a terminated human junkyard for two hours certainly would not have improved the golden mech's attitude.

The three travelers heard traffic before they saw the road, though Sideswipe wasn't paying attention. His lust for the open highway was subdued as something made his lower half twitch against his will. Concerned over the sensations confusing his sensors, he frowned at the phantom touches and itchy plating.

Sideswipe stopped at the side of the road and wiggled his aft. He lifted each leg, shifting them side to side and front to back.

Nothing alleviated the tickling and scratchy sensation in his lower regions.

"What's gotten into you?" Ratchet asked skeptically, observing Sideswipe perform a slow pelvic rotation.

"Not sure," Sideswipe said, a crease marring his beautiful features. "There's a … tickling… along my left aft plate."

Sideswipe let out a yelp, wildly gyrating his aft and kicking out his legs in a comedic march.

"Oh! Something touched me!" He announced, half terrified, half annoyed. He spun around, searching for whatever brushed along his plating but it met with empty air. He felt it again, spinning him in the opposite direction. "Slag it! Who's doing that? Mirage, is that you?"

"Mirage isn't here. He's with Cliffjumper in North Dakota," Ratchet said gruffly. "What's gotten into you?"

"Something's touching me!" Sideswipe announced.

He ground his gears, twisting and shaking his aft for all he was worth. He tried hopping from pede to pede, lifting his legs, and spinning in a circle in a perfect imitation of a dog chasing its tail, the sensation remained.

"What is your malfunction, aft head?" Ratchet asked, not bothering to assist the red Lamborghini.

He withdrew his scanner but didn't discern anything life threatening or remotely dangerous about Sideswipe. Sideswipe's spark rate was elevated but the mech was currently performing some rather risqué moves, crying out about being touched when no one was near him.

"Maybe you picked up a spirit in the graveyard?" Jazz asked, half serious. He had totally invented the story about the human boneyard, but Sideswipe, in his gullibility, believed the naughty Porsche.

Jazz preened at his accomplishment.

"What the slag?" Sideswipe howled, running toward the road and transforming midair. He landed on his tires with a thud, earning Ratchet's glare. He kicked his engine into overdrive, shooting off down the road and hitting the triple digest within seconds.

And something tiny, blackened, and innocuous went flying out of Sideswipe's tailpipe around the quarter mile marker.

Ratchet and Jazz noticed it and approached ominously, Sideswipe gaining ground and putting distance from himself and ghost in his wires.

Jazz knelt by the small dark lump and gave the grave diagnosis.

"Non-living," he muttered, rising to face Ratchet. Both snickered, transformed, and began the pursuit of Sideswipe.

They left the dead chipmunk on the road, a casualty of curiosity and one skittish Lamborghini.

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Well, what do you think? Has it already been done? If so, I apologize. This is a silly little ditty that came to me around Christmas and with such a hectic schedule, I just now got around to posting it. I try to do 2-3 story updates a week, covering all my fandoms. So that's a lot on my plate :D

But as long as everyone enjoys them, I'll keep writing them!