Broad Side of a Barn

AN: THANK YOU TO MY AWESOME PATRONS GIRAFFECHAN and RAP BEAR!

AN2: I try to keep these chapters mixed up but sometimes, when inspiration strikes, I have to stay on a common thread. In this case, it's comedy or insane/strange things that come to me while doing menial yard work. THIS is the kind of chaos my mind invents when left to wander.

Warning: Don't eat or drink anything while reading. Author assumes no responsibly for reactions to this chapter and subsequent mental pictures.

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Sideswipe chuckled despite being surrounded by weapons fire. He patted Soundwave's helm, glad the telepath was unconscious thanks to an errant shot by a screechy wing commander. The technical term was 'friendly fire,' but Sideswipe called it a stroke of luck. With the telepath out of commission, he was easy prey.

Sideswipe loved easy opportunities.

Not one to cripple Megatron's companion, or potentially end the war.

No.

Sideswipe's intentions were single minded. Focused. And wholly inappropriate.

Scheme complete, he decided to further his pranking resume and pulled out a permanent black marker he kept in subspace, the kind specially ordered for large projects and conveniently enough, the perfect size for Cybertronian fingers.

He snickered while he worked, resembling a hydraulic going out.

When Rumble and Frenzy discovered their carrier, it was to find Sideswipe bent over the tape deck, marker in hand. They screamed, fearing the worst though still sensing their carrier's life pulse, and charged after the notorious Lamborghini.

Sideswipe bolted without giving them any grief, his laughter disappearing as he rejoined the battle, which was fizzling out, half the combatants unconscious.

All in all, their battles were more like frat parties than actual war. Name calling, roughhousing, half the participants requiring medical attention and various degrees of consciousness.

Sideswipe would mention such a thing to Prowl later. Maybe get the tactician to lock up. It would be hilarious!

Course, not as funny as what he just did to Soundwave.

Rumble and Frenzy shouted curses attached to Sideswipe's designation as they found their carrier with a giant set of black lips drawn on his face mask, black rimmed glasses drawn over his visor, and a vulgar human anatomy graffiti'ed on the lower region with Sideswipe's scroll of "I HAVE A BIG DECK" plastered across Soundwave's chest.

Though the two cassettes were furious, they couldn't stop giggling. They knew a good prank when they saw one. The only one who beat them in pranking was Skywarp, and the black jet had drastically cut back on his pranks after Megatron's last trouncing.

Sunstreaker planted his foot in Mixmaster's backside, sending the heavy duty mech skittering on his face plates toward his three conscious comrades.

Prime insisted on no casualties since the tipping point several millennia ago when their numbers had dwindled to a fraction of what they once were. Though now, some several million years later, their numbers were even fewer.

But the twins had another reason for not terminating the enemy. Sure they hated Megatron and his cronies, but if they killed them all, they'd be unemployed. They needed conflict to stay relative. They were front line warriors. They had no place during peace.

"Do I even ask?" Sunstreaker asked as Sideswipe joined him, putting his marker back in his subspace pocket.

"Oh, you'll never guess," Sideswipe grinned.

Sunstreaker ignored the crippling Cons and followed his twin back to the main Autobot forces. Ratchet was triaging patients and for once, the twins weren't injured.

A miracle!

"Oh, it's going to be epic," Sideswipe crooned.

Sunstreaker sighed.

"I need a drink."

"That's the spirit!" Sideswipe howled, transforming and following his friends to base.

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The next few days were quiet on the battle front, but not on the ARK. Sideswipe was in full prank mode.

Hound mentioned it being spring and a time of renewal and birth, the world to wake up and humans having a tradition of cleaning out clutter to make room for new and exciting things for the new year. And Sideswipe, bless his spark, became his most annoying, pranking self.

Course, it didn't take much to get Sideswipe to act like an idiot.

Ratchet ran the demon out of med bay, but Sideswipe sneaked back in the dead of night, tinkering with Ratchet's tools. The next morning, there was a siren chasing a laughing Lamborghini through the halls and one Prime sighing at his desk behind a mountain of paperwork.

Later that day, said paperwork was –accidentally- set on fire, Sideswipe swearing he had no idea of the prism properties of the glass he gifted the overworked Prime to 'cheer up his office.' The human forged crystal reacted to the power of the overhead lights and managed to burn a hole in the paperwork, thus setting Prime's desk ablaze and freaking out Red Alert while Inferno answered a common call amongst his self-harming companions.

Sideswipe thought he'd be serving brig time but Prime took the rubious pest aside and thanked him for freeing up his afternoon. And with a happy chirp, Prime was out the door and driving the roads, exercising his tires and enjoying a bright, sunny, paperwork free day.

Prowl threw a fit and then locked up when Sideswipe told him to lighten up and get laid. In the middle of his lecture, Prowl seized and keeled over, causing Ratchet to come thundering in and interrupting Sideswipe's fun with his marker.

Hound offered to teach the carmine Lamborghini meditation, but Sideswipe was a mech of motion and action. Being idle for hours at a time was for charging. Not for a mech who had a mission.

A mission to make his friends laugh and possibly, get the bolts beat out of him from annoyed comrades.

Oh well, he took the beatings in stride, too.

In reality, the former slave boss in the pit was far more brutal than anyone in the Autobot forces, aside from Sunny. The others may rant and threaten and get in a few good licks, but Sideswipe was able to easily brush aside their retribution. Their punches and kicks were nothing compared to the beatings he and Sunny received at the hand of the pit master and his whip.

When the evening finally wound down, Sideswipe tried to rouse up interest in a questionable drinking game but no one was in the mood to deal with his insanity. Little did they know Sideswipe had already made incursions into each of their quarters throughout the day and left a little surprise in their charging stations. When they rested, defragging and running diagnostics, they were in for a treat, courtesy of a deranged Lamborghini with an ornery streak.

But Sideswipe's plans were flawed, as they usually were when he was in a hurry and only half serious in the execution of a prank. The more he planned, the less likely he was to get away with whatever it was. Course his short term, barely thought out plans netted roughly the same result, meaning Prowl was able to launch a countermove and thus send the Lamborghini to the brig as punishment.

Not that such a thing bothered Sideswipe.

He spent half his life in confinement. Not like he learned a lesson from incarceration. Besides, if there was an attack, the energy bars disappeared, granting him freedom to leave and do his job. (a rather insightful contingent from Prowl when he calculated the cost of battle with Sideswipe absent)

Couldn't have a war without those who battled on the front lines. To Sideswipe, it was job security.

But to Sideswipe chagrin, the joke did not work. The next day, bots went about their daily activities without so much as a hiccup to Sideswipe's nefarious joke. He lamented his failure over a cube of high grade later that night, which turned into a dozen, his ill begotten joke long forgotten.

-oo- 6 WEEKS LATER –oo-

"Sideswipe, take point!" Prowl yelled as the Lamborghini appeared at the entrance to the ARK in answer to the alert of Decepticon's raiding the Brooks Dam.

"Slag, and here I was hoping to lag in the rear with the rest of you slow pokes and finger my treads," Sideswipe quipped, transforming midair and landing lightly on his tires.

Sunstreaker appeared as a golden shadow beside him and like two missiles, they shot toward the highway, Decepticons on their radars. In less than fifteen minutes, the Autobots arrived, wary of engaging the Cons due to the human hostages being held as shields in front of the Con forces.

Megatron stood, fists resting on hips, his cannon issuing a thin curl of smoke, appearing as if he was planning on shooting off his own leg. The ground in front of him was littered with scorch marks and pot holes, interspersed by an iron bar thrust into the ground and a human attached via pilfered chain link fencing. A few humans suffered scratches, but no injury appeared life threatening.

"Make one move, Autobots, and the humans are a memory," Megatron sneered.

Starscream paused in the loading of cubes into Astrotrain to join his gloating leader. The jet's wings were hitched high and mighty, his nasal ridge lifted in the same manner.

Oh, the Blight of Flight was in full supercilious, sycophant, grand standing glory today.

"That's right, Autobots," the screechy voice said, making bots cringe. He leveled a null ray to a simpering man in a grey jumpsuit. "Make one move."

Sideswipe gained Prime's side and yelled, "How about this?" and promptly bent over and showed his aft plates.

He wiggled them back and forth a couple times before righting himself, snickering at the stunned Cons watching him and not securing their haul.

Well, he was captivating. He couldn't blame them.

Megatron seemed to gather his wits, clearly not expecting the Lamborghini to be so brash, though one would think millions of years of war would give him an inkling to what Sideswipe was capable of, and raised his fusion cannon. His smirk deepened as he sent a shot close by a woman, who screamed and fainted, sagging in her bonds.

"You slagging piece of junkicon fragger!" Sideswipe barked, angered the Con would take the joke seriously.

"Language," Starscream singsonged, the end of his null ray flashing a red warning.

Sideswipe, not one to be schooled on manners by a Decepticon (or anyone else for that matter,) quipped, "What? Are we living in a kid show or something? Sesame Street, Cybertron edition?"

Snickers went up. In both factions, though the Cons were returning to the task of filling their transports to pilfer as much fuel as they could.

"Doesn't really cut the metal when I call you a tin turkey or robot chicken!" Sideswipe snapped.

A sudden hush fell over the area. Time stopped. Bots on both sides instantly froze into position, aside from Sideswipe, Prowl, and Ratchet, who were staring in abject shock at their statuesque enemies.

Time resumed as if nothing had happened. In fact, most would have missed the infinitesimal second it took for the collective reset of processors, but the handful of unaffected mechs frowned, surveying their comrades (and enemies) to surmise the disruption.

But everyone seemed normal.

Perhaps it was a glitch? An errant strand of coding that tripped?

At the same time.

For nearly every single mech.

Yeah, Prowl and Ratchet didn't think it mere coincidence. Slowly they turned, optics zeroing in on Sideswipe, one trying to figure out if the red Lambo was guilty, the other wondering if Sideswipe needed a hearty thrashing.

Sideswipe shrugged, unsure what had transpired. One minute he was cracking a joke, the next, there was a system's pause, then time resumed as if nothing had happened. He was at a total loss as to the cause of a collaborative malfunction.

"Keep your distance, Prime, or the humans are terminated," Megatron threatened, apparently unaware of his pregnant pause.

"Don't harm the humans," Prime pleaded, extending a supplicating hand. "We will moo whatever you ask."

Sideswipe drew up, frowning. Were his audios malfunctioning?

Megatron laughed. A cold, tinny sound that sounded like sandpaper over gravel.

"Gobble, gobble, Prime," he said, pausing and shuttering his optics several times as if to internally focus.

Starscream chose that moment to start flapping his wings and arms and go racing around the warlord as fast as his thrustered feet would carry him. His trinemates joined in the chase, offering electronic clucks and high pitched squawks of terror.

"What is going on?" Megatron bellowed, raising a fist. Suddenly, his aft plates split, rear structure fully displayed, fanned about his lower regions in a risqué fashion.

Sideswipe's optics lit up as realization dawned. Ratchet and Prowl ignored the developing chaos to glare hatefully at the rubious chaos bringer.

Sideswipe chuckled, backing up slowly. He knew exactly what was transpiring and why his comrades were pissed. Well, the only two coherent ones. Everyone else was in various stages of animal evolution.

Megatron snarled at Prime, "What has that miscreant done this time, gobble, gobble?"

There was no guessing to whom the warlord was referring. The Decepticons had been unfortunate recipients to the pranking Lamborghini many times, moreso since they awoke on Earth. The idiot had a whole planet worth of arsenal to use against a bot, friend or foe. He didn't differentiate in that regard.

Prime shifted between his pedes, frowning as he bent forward slightly.

"I have no idea, Moooo-gatron!"

Prime huffed through his vents and landed on hands and knees. Had Megatron been in control of his faculties, he would have taken advantage of the prostrate position and ended his enemy. However, the gunformer was more interested in fanning his aft plates, dropping down into a crouch to add the plating along his thighs to the display.

"What is, gobble gobble, going on here?" the warlord bellowed, just as his command trine went flapping off into the distance, attempting to roost in nearby trees.

The Constructicons were currently rolling in mud, squealing and oinking in glee. Soundwave was trotting about the area with his cassettes following behind. He was soon joined by several of the Autobots, where they found a field and began to graze peacefully. The coneheads, Ironhide, Jazz, and Blitzwing were having a heated argument in honks, flapping their arms and attempting to bite each other.

"Sideswipe! What did you Mooooo?" Prime yelled, struggling to get his body to cooperate.

Megatron was a few paces away, also perturbed and struggling to regain his bodily functions as he rocked his neck back and forth, aft plates still spread out, displaying his bare protoform for all to see. It was more embarrassing than his constant need to gobble.

"This is, gobble gobble, unacceptable!" the tyrant said, trying to keep his aft away from the enemy though Prime was also emulating a farm animal and not worrying about Megatron and his aft plates. "How did this happen, gobble gobble?"

"Moooo clue," Prime responded, trying to find somewhere else that was no where near his hated enemy so he could graze. "This is embarrassing."

"Gobble!" Megatron belted out, then bolted, his plating sealing off to allow him to run and flap his arms at his honking comrades, who tried to peck him in retaliation.

"We should do something," Prowl said, still stunned into immobility.

The fact his commanding officer was grazing with some Cons, and Astrotrain kept tipping over, was too much for his battle computer to process. He felt a processor ache coming on. The kind that led to a massive shut down. The kind associated from the pranks of a notorious idiot.

"Maybe we should take the opportunity to remove the threat, once and for all?" Ratchet said, subspacing a rifle and glaring at a pecking Megatron.

"Prime would argue that was a dishonorable thing to do," Prowl countered.

"So isn't acting like a turkey," Ratchet deadpanned, but subspaced his weapon. "I'm not sure if he's in season or not."

Prowl was right. Prime would not approve of the actions taken while mechs were physical or mentally incapacitated and unable to defend themselves. Though there was no doubt Megatron's intentions if he was in possession of his faculties.

As it was, the warlord was pecking at the ground, cursing fluently.

"Any clue on how to undo this…programming?" Prowl asked flatly, wondering WHO was going to pull Prime's trailer, as the semi was still in a bovine state of mind.

"I'd have to ask the source idiot," Ratchet said, jerking his thumb toward the culprit who was currently being chased by his twin.

"Should we intervene?" Prowl asked, not really in the mood to step in and stop the golden mech from retribution. Sometimes he hated his job. It had unforeseen circumstances he had not been aware of when he first agreed to the position.

Ratchet watched Sunstreaker chase his brother, arms flapping, clucking and cursing at his brother as he too had been infected by the barnyard virus.

"Naw, let the idiot get flogged by a golden rooster. He deserves it."

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Don't know if this kind of scenario has been done before but I added it to this wacky collection. :D

In case you're wondering, Sideswipe had put the programming originally in Soundwave so he could subconsciously infect the Cons. Then Sides added the program to the Autobot berths and then when the program didn't immediately engage, he thought it failed. It merely took some time and had to be activated by the barnyard reference. Hehehe

So, click that button there and let me know what you think of this insanity.

Wouldn't it be fun to hang out at the ARK and the twins when all this insanity goes on? :D