To Catch a 'Bot

Transformers belongs to Hasbro. Venture Bros belongs to Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer.

Notes:
Guest-starring a friend's professor, who may or may not be named Jeff.

Chapter 4

The Monarch and his henchmen proceeded with predatory grace through the Venture Compound. Ducking behind retaining walls, slipping into the shadows, and evading the Compound's extensive security system, they reached a mech-sized runoff ditch just outside the main hangar without the least difficulty. The henchmen had long since mastered the techniques of noiseless stealth.

Mostly noiseless stealth.

While the robots, Starscream and Flutterwing, did an admirable job of moving quietly despite their considerable bulk, one of the humans refused to stop nattering in The Monarch's ear. His words formed a low, continuous stream of irritation that compounded The Monarch's semi-permanent migraine.

"So if you look at it that way, punk is the pinnacle of music. Every genre after is just the elements of punk broken down into their individual components, and everything before merely leads up to it.

"For example, compare Wagner's Liebestod from the opera, Tristan and Isolde, to the Sex Pistol's Holidays in the Sun to Rob Dougan's Furious Angels, and you'll notice that –"

"Will you be quiet?!" Unable to contain his fury, The Monarch leapt to his feet, but as he lacked his own skills in volume control, The Monarch not so much hissed the order as shrieked it.

The word "quiet" echoed through the suddenly still Venture Compound. With a wince, The Monarch surreptitiously glanced at the faces of his comrades. The henchmen refused to meet his gaze, Flutterwing looked confused and Starscream appeared more amused at The Monarch's discomfort than concerned about botching the mission.

In a softer but still insistent voice, The Monarch continued, "Look, we're on a very important mission right now. What's your Number?"

"My name's Jeff."

The Monarch glowered, "I didn't ask for your name."

Jeff looked liked he might protest but gave up with a resigned sigh, "I'm Number 47."

"Right. Number 47," The Monarch patted his shoulder. "Why don't you go on and do, like, reconnaissance or something, Number 47? Make sure to do it far, far away from us."

"I just don't think society gives enough recognition to the influences of –"

"Now, Number 47."

Wings drooping, the henchman sometimes known as Jeff shuffled off.

Once the man disappeared behind the Compound's hangar door, The Monarch muttered to the minion beside him, "Where the hell did we find that guy?"

The henchman shrugged, "Number 28 found him on the street. He'd lost his job as a college professor and was looking for new and exciting work possibilities."

"And we hired him?" The Monarch's eyes widened in disbelief.

Another shrug. "The Cocoon was running low on minions."

Since the start of the mission, Starscream had remained unusually silent – apparently the robot-equivalent of self-pity – but at this comment, he could no longer restrain a contemptuous sneer, "How typically human to run out of minions."

Jutting his sharp chin in outrage, The Monarch retorted, "It's quality, not quantity."

"You call that flesh sack 'quality?'"

"Oh, like you're so much better? You betrayed Megatron, like, five times since you came to The Cocoon. How are you a quality minion?"

"I deserve to be the Decepticon leader!" Starscream proclaimed in his loudest, shrillest audio output.

The Compound alarm began to blare.

No longer sneaking, Number 47 ran toward his companions at a full sprint. Only when he came closer could they could see why: Duskbird, now activated, moved with blurred Shinobi speed onto the Compound yard.

No one thought Number 47 would make it, least of all Number 47, so as the ninja crushed the human underfoot, everyone merely shuddered while Number 47 screamed out his last words, "F∗∗∗ Armageddon, this is Hell!"

The Monarch eyed the pulpy remains for only a moment before screaming the command, "Fire at will!"

Without hesitation, the henchmen shot off a round of Butterfly Darts, but as with Starscream, the projectiles bounced off the ninja mech, still bearing down upon them.

Panic contorted The Monarch's face as he yelped in desperation, "Starscream! Do something!"

"It's not fair," Starscream complained. He folded his arms in a pout, seemingly unaware of their impending deaths. "You screamed just as loud as me, but I alone set off the alarm? That's absurd!"

The Monarch urged the Seeker in an impatient voice, "Look, no one really cares right now, so you should get over here and do something useful."

"I want to know at what frequency the alarms are calibrated," Starscream huffed.

Even mere seconds away from death, The Monarch rolled his eyes, "Considering we're all about to be really boned, I don't think that's – aaaaagggghh!"

All The Monarch's coherent thoughts degenerated into gibbering terror as Duskbird raised his arm and shot a beam of energy. The human threw up his arms and turned away, but the finishing blow never struck.

Flutterwing, despite receiving no direct orders, had stepped in front of his creator and absorbed the laser blast. Although the butterfly bot skidded back, delicate metal feet leaving deep rents in the earth, he remained upright long enough to throw his weight at Duskbird. The two robots smashed through the side of the hangar, disappearing from sight in a shower of plaster and collapsing beams. The sound of their struggle echoed into the yard.

"Oh that's right," The Monarch sighed with relief. "Thank God I built my own giant robot, who's actually loyal and competent."

"I just don't think it's fair," the Seeker protested with a scowl.

"Well, sometimes life just ain't fair, Screamer," drawled a husky mechanical voice from behind The Monarch. Starscream nearly leapt out of his chassis before spinning around.

Ironhide stood battle-ready with his arm cannon directed at Starscream's head. Arcee crouched beside him with her own gun drawn and aimed at the Decepticon.

"Decepticons! Attack!" Starscream yelled as he rushed forward.

As the lone Decepticon, he not only was the first to reach the Autobots but also had no backup – two unexpected contingencies. Starscream realized his mistake when Arcee deftly twisted and delivered a roundhouse kick to his chest cockpit. He smashed into the ground, wingtips bending with every bounce as he rolled to an ungraceful stop.

In an uncharacteristic display of generosity, Ironhide decided not to shoot the Seeker but instead pummel him in the face. Starscream's sensory inputs fizzled before his pain dampeners kicked it, but even that could not quite dull the sensation of metallic knuckles rearranging his nose.

When Ironhide tired of that game, he switched his grip to Starscream's helmet and began smashing the Seeker's face into the ground.

Starscream gasped in desperation, "Megatron!"

Immediately the commlink sprang to life with a hiss of static, and Megatron's surprised voice growled into his subordinate's audio receptors, "Starscream? Report!"

Wham. "Too many –" Wham. "Autobots." Wham. "Send reinforce–" Wham. "–ments."

The repeated blows must have knocked something loose in Starscream's CPU, because time suddenly slowed to a crawl. He regarded the rocky soil before his face – now nearer, now farther – and admired the growing cracks that multiplied with each successive wham. It was actually kind of neat.

Starscream grimaced, trying to recall why he had contacted Megatron in the first place.

"Hmm," Megatron murmured at last. "Whatever it is, you'll have to handle it on your own. The Decepticons on base are in no position to provide backup."

Reality returned and Starscream became oppressively aware of Ironhide above him, grinding his face into the rocks.

"But Mega–" Wham. "–tron," the Seeker managed to whimper.

"No whining!" Megatron roared. "Now get back to your mission, and try to be a bit more stealthy. I can hear you stomping around even through the commlink!"

The line went dead, and Starscream groaned as something began bashing into his ventilators.

Guilt and horror played across The Monarch's face as he watched the carnage from afar. As much as the human despised Starscream, he could not help wincing every time the robot's face hit the ground. Scratching the back of his neck, The Monarch toyed with the idea of assisting the robot, but thought better of it when the pink Autobot began kicking Starscream across the chest and sides. He did not feel that much sympathy.

"I should have known you'd be involved in this," a voice muttered beside him.

The Monarch turned to see his arch-nemesis standing only a few feet away. Dr. Venture's arms were shoved deep into his jumpsuit pockets and a grimace of annoyance twisted his lips as the robots smashed up his yard.

Dr. Venture admitted, "When I saw Duskbird kicking the crap out of that fruity butterfly robot, I had my suspicions."

"Flutterwing is not fruity! He is the sinister collaboration between my forces and that of the Decepticons. Once he defeats these meddling Autobots, we will abduct your ninja robot and defeat you once and for all!" The Monarch declared, but his eyebrows scrunched in doubt when he noticed Starscream's feeble attempts to protect his face.

All signs indicated that winning would not occur in the foreseeable future.

"Or as soon as Starscream manages to stay standing," The Monarch qualified. Even that became doubtful when Starscream rolled into a fetal position and again whimpered for Megatron.

Venture looked from the thoroughly beaten robot to the man who could not, in any conceivable way, qualify as his arch-nemesis.

"Let me get this straight. You teamed up with a giant robot to build a giant robot so you could steal my giant robot?"

"Yes?" The Monarch looked confused. Venture did not appear properly concerned or awestruck.

The scientist rolled his eyes, "Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Wouldn't it have been easier just to build your own ninja giant robot so you wouldn't have to steal mine?"

The Monarch considered this hitherto unexplored possibility.

"Yeeeeeeeeee...no." He glared, "Shut up. I hate you." Pause. "And your ninja giant robot will be mine! Henchmen! Seize Dr. Venture!"

Until this familiar order, the situation existed outside the henchmen's realm of comprehension. They understood fighting fairly well, and they understood dying even better, but giant robots were downright confusing.

Here at last was a command for which every henchman prepared, and seizing Dr. Venture was an order they could not only understand, but obey with enthusiasm. The two remaining henchmen grabbed the scientist and pressed their dart guns to his throat.

With a renewed sense of triumph, The Monarch announced, "Autobots! Stop or I will kill Dr. Venture!"

Ironhide and Arcee stopped whomping Starscream and exchanged uncertain looks. Autobots had very explicit directives when it came to human lives, and hostage situations fell somewhere under them. Once they tapped into the larger database to reconfirm, both bots nodded then stepped away from Starscream. With slow and deliberate movements, they raised their hands in surrender.

No longer in blinding pain, Starscream wobbled to his feet, one hand gingerly pressed against his helmet. The nanomachines had begun basic field repairs, but the wiring was still sensitive from the damage. The Seeker glared then kicked Ironhide across the shins.

The soldier bot stumbled to his knees but did not switch his hand to gun-mode. "Aww, scrap! Not again," he muttered out of annoyance rather than fear.

This was the part of war that Starscream liked. "Auto-fools, you are now Decepticon prisoners."

"That's right," Monarch nodded in approval then gave Dr. Venture a pointed look. "Now order your ninja robot to stop fighting Flutterwing, and we will spare you and your family."

"My family isn't here."

"That's because I kidnapped them."

"Oh!" Venture smiled with sudden understanding. "So that's where the boys got off to!"

The Monarch paused then menacingly pointed his dart gun at the scientist, "Well? Do it. Obey my command!"

Venture's smile broadened into an oily smirk, "Mmm, I don't think so."

"What?" As his arm sagged in confusion, The Monarch took a step closer. "You are my hostage; you have no choice! I know about the Autobots' orders – they can do nothing to stop me!"

"Maybe not," the doctor admitted, "but Brock sure can."

Before The Monarch could retort, the henchmen let out agonizing screams. Their leader could only watch in horror as Samson pounced, clamping a hand around each of their dart guns then yanking so the Butterfly Darts shot harmlessly into the air.

Dr. Venture had enough sense to step out of splash-range as Brock took one of the henchmen by the neck and ripped out his spinal cord (a feat that said henchmen would have sworn was impossible not five seconds earlier), then proceeded to strangle the other henchmen with his comrade's missing vertebrae.

The Autobots appeared impressed, The Monarch terrified, but Dr. Venture studied his nails in boredom.

Meanwhile a blood-splattered Samson tossed the body aside as he turned toward The Monarch with single-minded purpose. The Monarch handled the situation as best he could. Rather than deciding between fight and flight, he wavered between flight and "fall on the ground in gibbering terror."

He compromised by backing away until his knees began to quake so badly that he could barely support his weight. Brock took a deliberate step forward, and The Monarch whimpered.

Only when a robotic voice called out, "Stop human!" did both men freeze.

Starscream grabbed Arcee and stepped behind her. He pressed his Nullray against her chin, "You too, Autobot. With this hostage, neither you nor your puny organic companion can attack me."

Brock disagreed.

"Walking Eye, transform!"

"Oh, don't bother, Brock," Venture hissed. "That thing only turns into a –" The Walking Eye's legs folded up inside the main sphere and it shrunk to the size and mass of a bowling ball. Venture appeared impressed. "Huh, so it's a triple-changer. Who'd have guessed?"

Now in its bowling ball alt mod, the Walking Eye rolled over to Brock, and in a single motion, the man picked it up and spun. The ball arced through the air, swift and elegant, as it sailed toward Starscream's face.

Brock did not miss.

As the ball smacked into the Seeker's nose, Arcee spun out of his grasp and punched him in the cockpit. Again Starscream hit the ground with a groan.

"You okay?" Brock asked in a disinterested drawl.

"Why yes, just fine, thank you, but I...oh," Dr. Venture trailed off as Brock went over to the pink mech.

"Yes," she admitted to the human. "You are very strong for a flesh organism."

She lowered a hand to scoop up Brock as Ironhide moved past. The soldier bot prodded Starscream with his foot, and this time the Seeker did not bother to moan.

"Say Starscream, looks like yer gonna be spending some quality time with us Autobots."

While Starsceam tried to order his vocal processors into a proper response, The Monarch pointed a diabolical finger at Venture.

"A clever scheme, Venture. Truly you are a worthy arch-nemesis of The Monarch!"

Venture rolled his eyes, "For the last time, I'm not your arch-nemesis."

As though he had not heard, The Monarch continued, "But as always you have underestimated the complexity of my plan, which is built upon layers and layers of deception and contingencies merely waiting for the right moment to come to fruition."

Venture explained, "I'm a super-cool scientist, you dress up as a butterfly. Thanks, but I'll wait for a real arch-nemesis."

The Monarch continued, unperturbed by Venture's not listening, "What you could not have possibly known is that my creation, Flutterwing, has merely been biding his time, waiting for my command to finish your ninja robot with his deadly butterfly venom!"

"And what's up with this butterfly theme? Isn't it a bit, I don't know, emasculating for you and your men?"

"Flutterwing!" The Monarch jabbed his clenched fist skyward. "Finish off Duskbird!"

Nothing happened.

As nothing continued to happen, seconds dragging into long, painful minutes, Ironhide remarked, "Gee, them human-built bots are being awfully quiet, aren't they?"

Something creaked from inside the hangar. Humans and transformers alike leaned forward in anticipation. Another pause then several clanging noises – robotic shuffling – echoed into the Compound yard. Hand unit in hand unit, Duskbird and Flutterwing emerged.

Everyone stared.

"Hey, Dad," Flutterwing spoke at last, waggling fuchsia fingers at The Monarch. "I'm going to marry Duskbird."

Everyone stared harder.

The Monarch looked at Dr. Venture who appeared equally puzzled. Scratching behind his head, The Monarch raised an elongated eyebrow, "Marry? Is that some robot term or something? It means 'viciously maim and destroy' in your language, right?"

"It means your gay robot's gayness is contagious!" Venture snapped. "Duskbird, I forbid you from marrying that pink hussy! You have to come with me to the Scientific Symposium so everyone can see how amazing I am."

Duskbird's optics gleamed yellow as he bowed respectfully, "Honored Creator, I must decline. Although you gave me life, Flutterwing has given me the gift of love." The ninja bot gazed adoringly into Flutterwing's optics, causing the butterfly bot to preen nervously. "I have decided to give up my ninja ways, so I may lead a life of peace and harmony. We are moving to Canada to open a petting zoo."

"We want it to be both robo and homo-friendly," Flutterwing added with enthusiasm.

Venture smacked his palm against his forehead, "And here I was worrying about Dean."

Duskbird wrapped an arm around Flutterwing's abdomen section. "Flutterwing, it is time we departed," he murmured in his soft voice.

Flutterwing wrapped a pair of his four arms around the ninja before addressing The Monarch, "Dad, sorry about the change of plans." The robot turned to Venture, "We'll send you an invitation to the wedding!"

Flapping his mechanical wings, Flutterwing wafted off the ground. As the bots rose higher into the air and began to breeze away from the Compound, Venture mechanically waved, a smile remained fixed on his face. Out the corner of his mouth, he muttered, "Don't...don't bother."

Once they dwindled on the horizon, the scientist sagged, and his grin turned sickly. He shook his head in disappointment, "Guess it'll be another year before I stick it to those uppity bastards at the Symposium."

The roar of a truck engine caught his attention and he turned in time to see a cab-over-engine semi pull up, a VW bug and race car close behind. Although Venture did not expect the cars to transform, he could not muster the energy to be surprised.

In mere astroseconds, Optimus Prime had assessed the situation: Starscream captured, The Monarch wearing a sour look, the squishy remains of a handful of minions scattered across the yard.

In a booming voice, he began, "Wheeljack had returned to base to look for his missing invention when we received a warning that the Decepticons were attacking the Compound. We came as soon as we could."

Dr. Venture shrugged, "It was really only one Decepticon, but close enough."

"Is Duskbird secure?"

"In his sexuality, sure, but if you're asking whether he's here, the answer's no."

"Then where –?"

"He ran off with a pink butterfly bot that this fleshtube made," Ironhide gestured to The Monarch. "Said they're gettin' hitched."

"Well, I guess that love really does conquer all," Prime said with a laugh.

Bumblebee rolled his optics, "Primus! Do you always have to have the last word, Optimus?"

"Seriously," The Monarch muttered. "Shut up, you prick."

Ironhide looked askance at Bumblebee as he cleared his vocoder, "So Prime, what now? Should we take the human and Starscream prisoner?"

"As long as I don't have to share a cell with that ridiculous Earth-germ," Starscream hissed. "This is all your fault, Monarch! Between the name and the coloration, what did you expect?"

"What?" The Monarch shrieked back, "Like you're the epitome of heterosexuality! Flutterwing would have been just fine if he hadn't had you and Megatron as role models."

"If you're implying that Megatron and I are..." Starscream's optics widened but everyone else merely shrugged. "What? Megatron?!" He screeched. "Of all the illogical human notions..." Bumblebee sniggered behind his hand, and Starscream sputtered on, "I loathe that mech! Why would I...Why would he..." The Seeker looked around in desperation until his optics locked on Optimus, "Prime, tell them!"

"I make a point not to get involved in domestic disputes."

"Aaargh!" Ignoring the many guns still leveled at him, Starscream stumbled away and transformed. His alt mode wobbled from the wing damage, but otherwise he shot straight and true back to the Decepticon base, far away from the Venture Compound.

"Should we go after him?" Ironhide asked.

Optimus' optics glinted, "As I said, Ironhide, I don't get involved in domestic disputes."

Bumblebee and Wheeljack broke into laughter. Ironhide, on the other hand, looked around with growing confusion, "Hey, has anyone seen Arcee around?"

Arcee herself answered with a hearty scream that tore across the Venture Compound, "Primus, yes! Harder, flesh organism! Harder! Yeeeeeaaarrggh!!"

A clatter of falling boxes preceded a long and lingering, awkward silence. Ironhide shuffled a foot through the dirt and Wheeljack lowered the hands he had instinctively clapped over Bumblebee's auditory inputs.

Dr. Venture massaged his temple as if fighting a migraine, "Well, if anyone needs me, I'll be in my room beating my head against something large and heavy in a desperate attempt to get these images out of my head. Boys, you go to your room and – huh." He looked around with confusion, "Where the hell have those boys gotten off to anyway?"

After a moment of half-hearted glances across the Compound yard, Dr. Venture lost interest, shrugged his shoulders and went back inside.

Once again at a loss, silence returned until Wheeljack managed, "Sooooo, I guess that means mission, um, accomplished? Should we return to base?"

The Autobots regarded each other, and Ironhide exhaled through his ventilators. When he at last compiled the courage, he managed, "We gonna wait for Arcee?"

Prime shook his head, "No. Not this time. Er, let's roll out. She can catch up."

Optimus had never seen the Autobots so eager to transform and roll out. Bumblebee and Wheeljack shot ahead, with Prime and Ironhide following as close on their tailpipes as their sturdier alt modes allowed. A thick, winding trail of dust hovered in the air as they plotted a course for the Ark and raced home.

Only one figure remained on the Compound grounds. Surrounded by the bodies of his dead henchmen and brutal gashes in the soil where the robots had fought, The Monarch looked around with uncertainty.

"Could someone maybe..." He trailed off and began to fidget with his communicator. "21? 24? Are you there? Dr. Girlfriend? Dr. Girlfriend?" He paused then tried in a soft but increasingly desperate tone, "Tenderoni?"

After a moment of listening to soft, uninterrupted static, The Monarch slumped.

"Aw, f∗∗∗ it. I'll call a cab."