Two: Observations
As soon as Megatron turned his attention to the large screen, he was greeted with constant drama. He recalled seeing similar moments he'd seen in the humans' idiotic 'reality television' programs: the constant arguing, fighting, violence, immaturity and much more. It was almost sickening to see how they lived together, and it was even more sickening to know that it was this group of pathetic rejects that had led him to his current situation.
Yet he watched, disgusted, surprised, annoyed and totally engrossed in what he decided to dub as "The Real World: Autobots". The first thing that he saw was an argument between the little yellow Autobot and the dark one, the one that rarely spoke.
"Ah, come on Prowl! It was a joke! A JOKE! Can't ya take a little joke every once in a while?"
"Not when I find posters advertising obscene things tacked to my tree," replied the dark one known as Prowl. He held up two posters that Megatron had to adjust his optics to see: "Have you seen this 'Bot's logic processor? Neither have we," and "Ninja-Bot for Hire!" Both featured crayon drawings of the dark Autobot, looking suspiciously like they were drawn by an eight-year old child.
"I hope copies of these idiotic posters haven't left the base, Bumblebee, or else you're going to receive the worse punishment I can think of."
"Oh?" said the yellow one called Bumblebee, "and what could you possibly do that's so horrible?"
"I can tie you to a chair to prevent you from moving, and make you watch nature documentaries with me for a week straight."
"...No you wouldn't."
"Watch me," said Prowl, and he threw Bumblebee over his shoulder, toting him over to the sofa. Bumblebee yelled out,
"GAH! NO! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just don't make me watch anything I can learn from!"
"Prowl! Bumblebee! What the slag are you fraggin' younglings doing now!?" came the shout of someone who sounded very, very old. Megatron found the voice slightly familiar...
"Ratchet! Oh, thank Primus! Prowl's going to torture me!"
"'Bout time," the older mech spat, now entering the room and making himself clearer to Megatron.
'Ah,' thought the Decepticon, 'I remember you, Doctor Ratchet.'
"Normally I would let you continue your business here, Prowl, but unfortunately, Prime'll have my head if I let you. So you'll just have to wait until I'm not around to torture the little pain."
Prowl smirked, despite being prevented from carrying out his evil plan, and dropped Bumblebee, who jumped up as soon as he hit the floor. Bumblebee growled,
"You're a sla—OW!" He rubbed his head where the doctor had suddenly smacked him, much to Megatron's surprise, and yelled,
"What the fra—OW! Stop that!"
"Don't swear, kid. It's a disgusting habit."
"You swear all the time!"
"Like I said, it's a disgusting habit. Once you get into it, you can't get out of it. And me, I'm stuck with it." Bumblebee crossed his arms and growled,
"Yeah, well, there's no need to hit me over it." Prowl chuckled, and Bumblebee turned to face him, anger written all over his face.
"Shut up, ninja." Both Prowl and Ratchet began to laugh as they walked away from the angry little Autobot. Megatron watched with fascination. It appeared this little yellow brat could get along with no one, getting into constant arguments with his elders and causing trouble for everyone.
Megatron didn't have time to consider using the youngest Autobot for his evil scheme. He suddenly focused all his attention on the Autobot who was now entering the room.
"Prime..." hissed Megatron as he set his eyes upon the grandson of his now-deceased and much hated enemy, Optimus Prime. They had met only briefly, but Megatron had been surprised by the very few resemblances this young Autobot bore to the one he had known in the Great War of Cybertron. While Optimus Prime Senior had been massive, strong, full of confidence and a fantastic leader (even Megatron had to admit that much), this...child was nothing like his Grandfather.
This Optimus Prime had not actually earned the title of Prime; he had been named after his Grandfather. The Title of Prime was now held by Sentinel Prime, who saw this youngling as a near-lost cause. No, this young person had even washed-out of the Academy, having failed at a number of things. His confidence wasn't the best, his own team barely listened to him...he was, in a word, a failure.
Megatron watched the young Optimus Prime, interested in the young descendant of his enemy, trying to decide how he could manipulate the brat.
"What's going on in here?" the leader asked, not looking too perplexed about the goings-on in the base. Ratchet and Prowl simply said together,
"Bumblebee."
"Ah. I see. Bumblebee, let's go talk."
"What? I didn't do any—"
Prowl lifted up his arms, displaying Bumblebee's homemade posters to Prime. Optimus shook his head and said,
"You and me. NOW." He grabbed the yellow 'bot's arm and pulled him out of the main room and towards his office. Megatron, eager to see how the failure Prime would handle the discipline issue, played around with the remote controls until he found the office. Prime had locked the door, forced the delinquent into a chair and sat at his messy desk, across from the angry youngling. His office was not unlike Bumblebee's: messy, unorganized and confusing.
"So, what's up, big guy?" Megatron would have raised an eyebrow at this approach, if he had eyebrows. Normally, he found that simply beating a troublesome Cybertronian fixed a problem. What good did talking do?
"Just leave me alone, Prime."
"Bumblebee, your behavior around here is...it's unnecessary. I just want to know what's going on, why you're acting the way you do. Is it a cry for attention? Are you worried about something?"
"No," growled the youngling. Prime sighed.
"Listen, Bumblebee, I was your age once. I know how it is to be this young. Your system is going through changes; your mind tends to think about things that can be considered embarrassing, it happens. I went through it, Ratchet and Prowl and Bulkhead went through it. Even Megatron went through it. It's normal. And you're acting like a normal adolescent 'bot. But I also remember that I had a lot on my mind that I never talked about. So I'm offering you a chance to tell me anything that might be bothering you."
"Nothing is bothering me. I just like to have fun."
"...Bumblebee—"
"WHAT? What could you possibly want to hear?! I said NOTHING is bothering me! Except you, maybe. Just leave me alone."
"Okay, okay, I get it. You need your space. But I need you to be a little more sensitive to your other teammates."
"Fine. Whatever. Can I go now?"
"I'd rather you stay with me and talk. I'm a little concerned. You like to upset people. Is there a reason for this?"
"I'm not trying to annoy any—"
"You make rude posters of other Autobots, you intrude on their privacy, you pick on them and call them names; I could go on. Don't tell me you're not trying to annoy them. There's something on your mind, and I want to know what."
Bumblebee honestly had no reason for his behavior. It was just in his programming. But he knew Prime wouldn't let up on him until he gave some reason. So he made up a quick lie:
"I think about bonding. A lot." There, he thought. A perfectly legitimate excuse. Humans blamed their actions on thoughts of bonding, or what they called 'sex', so why not try it out here? Luckily for Bumblebee, Prime bought it.
"Ah, I see. All right, let's talk. You have any questions?"
"Uh...no. I just think about it. A lot."
"Yes, we all think about it at this age. It's normal. But why would you act out this way, I wonder...?"
"Lack of experience, I guess." Bumblebee lied quickly. He really didn't care about bonding in the least—there was too much mischief to cause to care about it yet. Optimus gave him a confused look, then said,
"Haven't you even just experimented with it alone in your r—"
Bumblebee's horrified scream was heard throughout the base, and a mile beyond. Megatron had to quickly mute the video feed to prevent himself from going deaf. He kept his optics on the screen and chuckled slightly as the youngest Autobot crashed through the locked door and raced out of the office, completely horrified by what his commander had just suggested.
He zoomed past his close friend, the enormous Bulkhead, who was trying to build something artistic out of a wheelbarrow of bricks.
"Hey, buddy! Are you—geez. What's his problem?"
"No idea," came a response from the main room, where Prowl was watching a documentary about lions. As Megatron watched the dysfunctional Autobots, he was finding himself more shocked than scheming.
"How the frag am I going to use any of this? They're all insane!" He calmed himself and thought,
'There must be something I can do. That little yellow brat causes more trouble than even Starscream. I..." His thoughts were interrupted as the Autobot medic returned to the main room, probably in response to the screaming filling the base. He marched angrily to the little Autobot's room and pounded on the door.
"Open up," he growled. "NOW." Bumblebee timidly opened his door and peered out.
"I don't wanna talk about—OW!" Ratchet had grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his room, only to give him a sharp smack on the back of his head.
"I don't know how else to get it through that thick head of yours, but if I have to beat you within an inch of your life, I will."
"Ratchet!" came the desperate cry of the team leader. The medic turned his head and said,
"Prime."
"You'll do no such thing, Ratchet."
"Worked in my day, it'll work for him."
"No it won't!" said Bumblebee. "I'll be even more obnoxious if you hit me. I can prove it too!" He went to bite Ratchet's hand, but the older mech simply smacked him again. Bumblebee recoiled and said,
"Stop that. It hurts."
"See?" said Ratchet with a wide grin across his face, "It works. Now, if I hear another sound from you, you're in deep trouble, mister. And I will let Prowl tie you up and force you to watch educational documentaries for three human weeks if you get in anyone's way again."
"Eeep..." came the very quiet, evidently freaked-out response from Bumblebee, who knew better than to get really out of hand at this point. He gave the medic his best 'puppy-dog' eyes, but no one was going to trust it.
"Don't even try, kid. It's not that cute, anyways."
Optimus Prime laughed and said,
"Yeah. Listen, we just want you to stop being so...crazy, I guess would be the right word. Just stop being crazy, and we'll all get along better."
"Highly doubt it," called Prowl down the hallway. Prime paused, then said,
"...we will all get along better. I think that—" Ratchet interrupted him and said,
"Bumblebee, you're to stay in your room and think about what you can do differently about your behavior. And I'll know if you're playin' around on your computer. We'll be sendin' Sari home when she arrives tomorrow morning, too."
"What?! This is so lame!"
"Ya did it to yourself, kid," said Ratchet. "Now get in there and come up with a few solutions. I want a visual report from you in one mega-cycle."
"WHAT?! THIS IS SO UNFAIR! YOU'RE NOT MY CREATOR, RATCHET!"
"Life is unfair," replied Ratchet. "Now, do you want another smack to the head, or what?" Bumblebee slammed the door in his face angrily as his answer. Ratchet chuckled, and looked up at Optimus Prime, expecting him to find the Autobot leader just as tickled, but instead was met with disapproving eyes.
"I don't believe in hitting, Ratchet."
"I know you don't youngling. But I know for a fact it works for some people, and I can get it to work for Bumblebee. If he wants me to stop, he has to stop first. It's that easy."
Megatron listened to the conversation, an evil idea forming in his mind. It would be merely a prototype, and it wouldn't be advertised to the public, but he had an idea. All he needed was that pathetic human to show up, and that wouldn't be for a few more earth hours. But it was all well. Megatron had a plan, something he wanted to test, and he had the rest of the night to plan it.
End Chapter Two. Tell me what you thought!
-Juana