A/N: I want to thank everyone for all their lovely reviews! You guys are the very best. You know just how to make a girl feel loved.
Here's the next installment of "Breaking the Rules". I don't like this one as much as the first one. --glares at the monitor-- It just wouldn't cooperate. So sad, too, because I love the Skippyism it's based on. Oh well, I gave it my best shot.
Oh, and if anyone wants me to write a particular Skippyism, let me know. I know someone mentioned rubber sheep and the Twins…XD I'll see where my muse takes me!
Hope you enjoy!
::comm::
thoughts
Sideswipe shifted restlessly, his optics scanning over the crowds of humans thronging the huge parking lot. Primus, he was bored.
Prime must have been on crack to volunteer (i.e. draft) Sideswipe for this event, and Sideswipe had told him so. "The humans like you for some strange reason," Prime had said. "Don't worry. Jazz will be there too, and he can do most of the talking. This is an important public relations event—we need someone there the humans will view positively, and no one else was available." Actually, Optimus had just wanted to get Sideswipe out from under his feet for a while, but he'd be fragged if he admitted that to the red hellion. The Autobot leader had fixed his most troublesome warrior with a gimlet stare. "However, if I hear that anything you've done has caused something—unfortunate—I will personally see that you scrub the floors of the washracks for the next month. With a toothbrush. Understood?" At Sideswipe's stiff nod, Prime had looked satisfied and stood from behind his desk. "Dismissed."
Sideswipe glanced over to his fellow Autobot. Jazz was in his element, chatting up the locals, gesturing animatedly. They swarmed him, taking pictures, just reaching out to touch him, so they could say they met a real, live Autobot. They had tried that with the red warrior, too, but a single glare had sent them scurrying for Jazz. He was nowhere near as vain as his brother, but he didn't like smudges on his finish either. It was a good thing Sunstreaker wasn't here—he'd have fritzed by now.
The Porsche caught Sideswipe's stare and sent the red mech a pointed glance. ::You're supposed to be nice to the people, Siders,:: he sent over his comm unit. ::Smile.:: The Lamborghini gave Jazz a weak grin and sent ::Happy now?:: The visored mech mimed rolling optics and turned back to his captive audience. ::I swear, Sides, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were channeling Sunstreaker.::
::Am not,:: Sideswipe grumbled back, which only earned him an amused look from Jazz.
Sideswipe had resumed his bored scanning of the crowd when he was distracted by something tapping on his left leg. He glanced down, irritated. Standing at his feet was a grungy, wild-eyed human, who was staring up at him with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Mindful of Prime's threat and Jazz's watchful presence, he attempted a smile at the young male and said, "Um, hello?"
The human's eyes widened. "Oh, wow," he breathed. "You're so big." He continued to stare at Sideswipe raptly.
After a few moments of this scrutiny, the Lamborghini began to get antsy. "Did you want something?" he asked, a little more harshly than he intended. The human blinked, startled out of his reverie. Heh, maybe I am channeling Sunstreaker, Sideswipe thought with a flicker of amusement.
The young man started to stutter. Sideswipe began to get a very foreign feeling—was it guilt?—and wondered if the poor guy was broken. "Look, I'm not going to bite," he said, more gently. "Did you want to get a picture or something?"
The human shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "I'm just a little nervous, is all." He leaned toward Sideswipe with a conspiratorial air. "Look, there's something I really need to let you guys know. Is there any way I can talk to your leader?" he asked urgently.
Sideswipe immediately became suspicious. "Optimus Prime is at the Ark, a few hundred miles away, and he's usually very busy anyway. Maybe I can take him a message?"
"This is very important, top secret…" the human trailed off uncertainly.
Sideswipe began to become certain this was a joke. After all, hadn't he pulled stuff like this often enough himself? Anyone with a functioning processor should know to go though the proper channels with something so supposedly important. Still, he humored the man and said, "Look, I'm one of Prime's most trusted warriors. You can tell me, and I'll see that it gets to him." Well, that might have been stretching the truth a bit, but he didn't think this squishy would know the difference.
The human wavered. "If Prime didn't trust me around humans, he wouldn't have sent me here," Sideswipe said a little impatiently.
"Everyone else thinks I'm crazy," the man said anxiously. Uh oh, Sideswipe thought. This is not a good sign. He sent a pleading look in Jazz's direction, but the saboteur's attention was elsewhere.
"About a year ago, I was abducted by aliens," the human said confidingly. Sideswipe stared. Of all the things he had been expecting, this was the last. "They put this microchip or something in my brain, man! I can hear stuff, now. Like secret coded transmissions and stuff! I think they may be from, like, the Decepticons, or something. I need help! I'm afraid the Decepticons will find out and kill me for finding out their secrets. There's this one car, dude, that's been following me for like a week, and I've picked up some things that make me think they're on to me…" the human rambled as Sideswipe looked on incredulously. This kid could give Bluestreak a run for his money…He held up a hand to forestall the little fleshling's chatter.
"Let me get this straight," the Lamborghini said. "You were abducted by aliens." The human nodded earnestly. "They implanted a microchip in your brain that lets you hear the Decepticons' private comm signals." Another nod. "And nobody believes you?" The young man did not seem to catch the sarcasm.
"You'll help me, right?" he asked desperately.
Suddenly, Sideswipe began to think that maybe this little outing wasn't such a waste of time after all, as the first glimmers of an idea started floating around in his CPU. "Well, kid," he said, squatting down so that he was eye level with the human, "I'm afraid there's really nothing I can do for you." The young man looked devastated. "However, I know some people who can," and the human brightened immediately. "Here's what you can do…"
A few days later, Sideswipe sat on a table in the med bay, waiting for his turn under Ratchet's laser scalpel after a minor scuffle with the Coneheads over a nearby power plant. The sound of several loud voices approaching rapidly drew everyone's attention. "What in the Pit is going on now," Ratchet asked irritably.
His question was answered when Inferno burst through the door, carrying Red Alert, who seemed to be unconscious. He was followed by Prowl and Optimus Prime. Inferno laid his friend out on one of the unoccupied tables as Ratchet hurried over to the little group. "What happened?" the CMO asked.
"Think his CPU froze up again," Inferno replied. "It looked like he was reading through this datapad."
Prowl handed the offending object to Ratchet. "It seems some human has mysteriously gotten hold of Red Alert's email address," the tactician said dryly. "He's been sending crazy messages about alien microchips and Decepticon plots, and of course poor Red's paranoia got the better of him. Interestingly enough, the human says he was 'helped' by a large red Autobot at a convention a few days ago…"
Sideswipe grinned weakly as all eyes turned to him. "Isn't that funny?" he asked as he began to inch toward the door.
"As you know, I had my sense of humor surgically removed a long time ago," Prowl deadpanned.
"No, Sideswipe, I don't think that's funny at all," Ratchet hissed, advancing on the warrior with a wrench in hand. "Do you realize how long it's going to take me to fix him?"
"Uh…" Sideswipe said, intelligently. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and turned to flee, only to find that Optimus had maneuvered himself between Sideswipe and the door. The rest of the med bay's occupants watched in glee as Prime glared at the troublesome Lambo and prepared to give Sideswipe a much-deserved dressing down. They weren't disappointed.
The warrior began looking more and more chastened as the lecture wound down. When Prime was finished, he unsubspaced the one object Sideswipe was hoping not to see—a human-sized toothbrush. As Sideswipe took the toothbrush, Prime said, "I trust you know what to do with this?" Sideswipe nodded ruefully, and then something occurred to him.
"Say, how did you just happen to have one of these on hand? Sir." The last was added belatedly.
Prime sighed. "Sideswipe, I've learned the hard way that when it comes to you, it always pays to come prepared."
Rule #208: Not allowed to play into the deluded fantasies of the civilians who are "hearing conversations" from the NSA, FBI, CIA, and KGB due to the microchip the aliens implanted in their brain.
Poor Red…I seem to have made a habit of picking on him. --snicker--