Screwball- Side Pocket
AN: Message to my patrons and fans…. My youtube channel and patron account has been suspended. Will keep post updates on the situation as I battle 'customer support'… *mumbles words to make Ratchet proud*
AN2: After last chapter, I thought we'd go total polar opposite and do funny. Hope you get a laugh out of this crazy antic!
All love goes to Sideswipe… the horrible, adorable little gremlin!
Don't know if this particular scenario has been done before. If so, I apologize. It's difficult to have nearly 150 chapters and have something new and exciting each time.
Holy cow! Approaching 150 chapters?!
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Sideswipe struggled to gain his feet. His equilibrium circuits were scrambled thanks to a jet with a thunderous fart. To teach the blue jet a lesson about his explosive nature, Sideswipe thought it was a good idea to jump the jet as he flew past Sideswipe's hiding place.
Thundercracker was suitably shocked, emitting another sonic boom, not realizing he was flying over a narrow valley of concrete that echoed his boom, shattering windows and sending the boom back to its originator. With a squall, the jet juddered from his own sonic fart, which sent him careening into a building.
Unfortunately, Sideswipe was stilling riding him.
The Lambo narrowly missed the impact, but momentum flung him several blocks, where he skidded, tumbling end over end until he slammed into a garbage truck aft first.
Disoriented and unsure of the status of his teammates, Sideswipe meandered through the now evacuated area, hoping no human had gotten hurt when he went seeker surfing. Diagnostics showed a beautiful array of injuries and one warning light strobing SOS, but Sideswipe ignored it. Wasn't the first time that particular warning light was on.
His audios filled with static, cutting in and out, giving him snippets of sound to guide his steps. The battle was still raging. To the left. Sideswipe staggered down the street, wincing from the static echoing in his head. One block down, his audios cut in to hear voices and sounds of weapons fire.
Ah, to the right.
He was getting closer.
Two bocks later, he took the corner and ran directly into his worst nightmare.
Megatron.
In full uninjured, unhindered, healthy glory.
Sideswipe would have preferred to find him compromised, half terminated, maybe knocking on Unicron's back chute.
One foot in the smelters, the other on a banana peel.
Still suffering from the lingering effects of the crash, Sideswipe's reflexes were slowed. He attempted to draw a weapon but Megatron was much faster. He took advantage of the disabled soldier, grasping him by the throat and lifting him off his pedes.
Sideswipe was happy he didn't need to breathe. If he had a windpipe, it would have been crushed. His vocalizer was spared, thank Primus, as it was situated a little lower on his neck and out of harm's way.
"Trying to sneak up on me?" Megatron sneered.
Sideswipe's compromised frame worked in his favor. A spark erupted from his shoulder, burning Megatron's hand, causing the warlord to drop but not release him.
"Took wrong turn at Albuquerque," Sideswipe quipped with a half laugh, legs offering a grinding hiss from the sudden impact of his weight. His lower regions were having problems adjusting to the shift in weight and maintaining balance. Megatron's grip on his shoulders weren't helping.
Megatron gave Sideswipe a violent shake, rattling his plating and causing his equilibrium circuits to scramble all over again. Sideswipe groaned as Megatron spun him around, holding him defensively in front of his chest.
"One false move, Prime, and I'll terminate your dumbest warrior," Metatron said, aiming his fusion cannon at Sideswipe's back.
The battle fell into silence.
"Oh Primus, you've got a minibot!" Sideswipe squawked. "Which one?!"
Sideswipe struggled as if trying to find said minibot, dizziness causing his optics to flicker. The warlord held on tighter, jerking Sideswipe back into position in front of him. An alarming pop and hiss came from Sideswipe's frame. He frowned, glancing down, trying to see past Megatron's arm draped across his chest.
"Weapons! Now!" Megatron commanded the Autobots.
Reluctantly the Autobots shed their weapons, glaring in open hostility.
Decepticons surrounded the Autobot forces, who had up their hands up in surrender.
"Let him go, Megatron," Prime commanded.
Megatron laughed, giving Sideswipe a hearty shake.
Sideswipe's right arm gave a pop, sagging in its socket. Oh, he was fragged. There came another pop and hiss to Sideswipe's lower region (this time much louder) and to his horror, his subspace pocket cracked open on his right hip.
Megatron paused in his gloating to glance down at the compromised warrior.
"Falling apart, eh?" Megatron leered.
"Well, I considered joining your group, but your sigil is ghastly," Sideswipe snickered. He may be fragged but his sense of humor was as sharp as ever.
Megatron smacked the ruby warrior upside the helm for his cheek. Little did he know the jolt put Sideswipe's loose screw in his head back into place, clearing his vision and audios. Unfortunately it also destabilized his neural relays in his lower regions. Against Sideswipe's will, his subspace pocket hissed open completely, allowing access.
"Trying to draw on me?" Megatron chuckled darkly. With the Autobots now unarmed and surrounded by Decepticon forces, Megatron was assured of his victory, which meant he could take a moment to further humiliate the ruby devil that caused him so much strife over the eons. "Let's see what you were reaching for? A fitting end would be you fall victim to your own device."
Megatron violently rammed his hand into Sideswipe's subspace, expecting to find weapons.
What he found was confusion.
Assortment of tools (which earned Sideswipe a threatening yell from Ratchet's direction.) A chainsaw missing its blade. A can of air freshener. Hubcap from a Corvette. One bright red shoe, left foot.
A trashcan with the address 14417 Park Ave painted in scrolling design. A road sign about Dangerous Curves. A poster of a Cadillac. The prop off an airplane. A horse saddle with the name "Red Rider" printed on the side in gold lettering.
A broken casino slot machine. A sword with an ivory handle that looked like it belonged in a museum and not tucked away in a mech's subspace.
There were also a dozen sealed cubes of high grade, glowing brilliant blue in the warlord's hand as he held up the contraband. Several Cons hurried forward, taking the fuel and tittering amongst themselves as they crowded around the precious commodity.
Megatron's hand became frantic, checking for anything else his captive was trying to hide.
Sideswipe started to giggle. "Little more to the right. I like it that way."
Megatron roughly patted around the inner pocket, causing Sideswipe to wince and attempt to cross his legs, but the damage to his pelvic relays was extensive. With an embarrassed whimper, a secondary subspace opened up. High on his inner right thigh. Next to his crotch plate.
And out tumbled two black globes.
They fell to the ground and rolled a few meters away, where they displayed a tiny clear window showing pale purple liquid inside.
"What… is that?" Megatron asked, staring at the strange things that rolled out of what he assumed was Sideswipe's crotchplates. They resembled grenades, but were unlike any weapon Megatron had ever encountered.
Sideswipe squinted at the minuscule print exposed in the window. Zooming in he read the dual message. "Unclear. Ask again later."
"The frag?" Megatron exclaimed.
Sideswipe chuckled, using the distraction to casually flick his wrist and open a hidden compartment. A vibro-knife slid into his hand.
"Whoops! Lost my balls."
Deftly Sideswipe gripped the knife and twisted, stabbing over his busted shoulder. Though he couldn't see his target, his aim was accurate.
Megatron took the knife in the neck junction. He cursed as energon spurted between his digits. Stumbling, he called out to his troops, "Retreat!"
Though the Cons held the higher ground, having surrounded the weaponless Autobots, they obeyed. Either they didn't care about an easy conquest or they were too stupid to realize an imminent victory, but they fled to the skies, leaving the Autobots to deal with their own.
Sideswipe clutched his broken and useless arm, dropping slowly to his knees as the actuators gave out. The two black balls that had saved his life were the last thing he remembered before unconsciousness claimed him.
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It was late the next day when Sideswipe woke to find himself in medbay. And he wasn't alone.
Usually it was Sunstreaker at his bedside, sometimes Ratchet, keeping a close optic on him in case his vitals dropped. Both mechs had bad attitudes and enjoyed inflicting further injury before storming away to attend duties. It was amazing how much Sunstreaker and Ratchet were alike. Both showed their affection with violence.
No wonder Sideswipe loved them so much.
But it wasn't either sadistic guardian angel currently sitting at his bedside. It was Prowl.
Reading over a datapad, optics scanning the screen in a blur.
The mech gave new meaning to speed reader.
"How long?" Sideswipe asked.
"Four hour surgery, and twelve hours unconscious," Prowl said, glancing up from his work. "According to your previous history, that is a new record of return to consciousness."
"I'm just that good," Sideswipe said with a pained grin.
Oh, he ached all over. He was getting too old for this slag. By human standards, he should be retired, living on a race track and enjoying his 'golden years,' as the humans term it.
"With Perceptor's help, Ratchet was able to stabilize your pelvic floor and rebuild your subspace pockets on the right side. You will be released within the week where you will then be strictly confined to monitor duty for a further two weeks."
"Oh man," Sideswipe whined, making it sound like he'd rather do anything else than sit at the monitors.
Secretly, he enjoyed monitor duty, preferably at night. Nothing happened after 9pm, at least not on the Decepticon front. Which meant he was free to surf late night TV, chat with foreign people around the world, play assorted games, and his own guilty pleasure, he enjoyed hacking into scrambled satellite transmissions and watching human mating shows. He merely had to subdue his laughter so no one would be woken and catch him watching the salacious channels.
"…no transforming and no strenuous activity," Prowl droned on. "And no accessing your subspace pockets, including your crotch space."
Sideswipe grinned, then sobered, remembering what had fallen out of said compartment.
"Hey Prowl, did you get my balls off the battlefield?"
Without batting an optic, Prowl answered, motioning to the table on Sideswipe's other side, "Yes, and when you're sufficiently healed, Ratchet can reattach them."
Message delivered, Prowl rose and left with a noticeable sway to his door wings.
Sideswipe sputtered, staring at the door where the black and white disappeared. He never thought he'd live to see the day when the uptight, unemotional mech would make a joke. Fondly, Sideswipe gazed at the two black balls resting on the table nearby.
They really were, magic.
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Yes, for some reason that idiot keeps magic eight balls in his subspace. And he's apparently a bit of a clepto. Can you imagine the weight of all that junk rattling around in his subspace? Good thing subspace mechanics factors in weight and nullifies it so it doesn't add to a mechs over all weight.
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I'll have an update on my patron and youtube pages as soon as I find out what's going on. Thank you for your patience.
