The Lover, the Fighter, the Traitor and the Tyrant Chapter 3: I'm Your Boogie Man, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

Note: Nasty words/situations in this one. If you are easily offended, skip it.

(flash logo, cue announcer)

"This is Channel Seven Action News with Greg Williams and Debrah Lesinski.

(zoom in to head anchorman)

"Good evening, I'm Greg Williams. Our top story tonight: A United Nations session turned tragic this afternoon when a sudden Decepticon attack left several officials and a group of visiting high school students seriously wounded. Our Debrah Lesinski is on the scene. Deb?"

(cut to reporter)

"Thank you, Greg. A terrifying day for those at the United Nations, where an afternoon conference on world hunger was evacuated when officials discovered a Decepticon spy in the building."

(cut to stock shots of U.N. building, cue voiceover)

"The Decepticon spy Laserbeak was detected by Autobot Red Alert during a security scan of the building. The Decepticon opened fire on a visiting group of high school students, injuring several. Their teacher, Raul Martinez, is reportedly in a coma from absorbing most of the hits while trying to protect his students."

(cut to high school student)

"He was just tryin' to - sniff – keep us from being shot and - sniff – I kept screaming and everyone was yellin' 'oh my god' an – sniff-"

(cut back to reporter)

"Greg, we don't know what the Decepticons were trying to find out or why the conference was being held, but we WERE able to get a statement from an Autobot representative who informed us that Decepticon spies are difficult to detect even with the best defenses; even so, there will be more security precautions taken after this incident. Mr. Martinez is in ICU and the family has specifically requested no visitors. Back to you, Greg."

(cut back to anchorman)

"Thank you, Deb. In local news: is the city mayor really a man?"

CLICK.

Bluestreak was bored. Not "work I've been putting off looks interesting" bored or "I may have to start shooting hostages" bored, but "what are the Lambos up to" bored, which was pretty disturbing when one considered the fact that anything they wanted to do usually made him their accomplice.

On the other hand…there were eight hours to go before patrol and he'd watched "Animaniacs" and "Batman" and half of the news already, so what other choices did he really have?

Ignoring his better judgment, the Datsun took off for more mischievous pastures.

He found him in his laboratory, sulking over a chemical compound that confounded him at every turn.

"They put the white stuff in through the holes in the bottom of the cake," Astrotrain explained, trying to be helpful.

"I ALREADY KNOW THAT!" Starscream screeched. "What is perplexing is THIS reading!"

Astrotrain grinned behind the datapad he'd caught from the irritated Seeker. "So they DO have a half-life," he chuckled.

Starscream joined him for a moment before regarding the triple-changer suspiciously. "Why are you here?"

Astrotrain shrugged. "I was bored."

"Ha!" He turned back to the packaging of the snack: cellophane showing the illustration of a large misshapen thing wearing a cowboy hat and a lasso. "I'll believe that when I see it," he muttered.

"See what?" Blitzwing peeked in to see how the negotiations were going, in case Astrotrain needed help. The gray and purple triple changer sent him away with an unnoticed signal and a mystifying explanation. It didn't look like Starscream was working with milled uranium oxide to him, but whatever. Blitzwing retreated quickly, returning the approaching Frenzy's greeting. The tape was on his way to deliver a summons.

"Our server's down and Megatron wants Screamer to fix it. What's up with you?"

"Starscream's working with yellow cake," Blitzwing sighed, wondering if they were going to do something anytime soon or would this whole weekend be a waste.

Frenzy chuckled. "Last week he tried to find out what the 11th spice was in that chicken recipe. He needs a real hobby."

"Astrotrain's working on it."

"Have you seen Sideswipe?"

Sunny glanced around his open cabinet door and shook his head. "That toaster's probably in the gym beating the slag out of Skids." The two had a casual fighting partnership in which they tried new moves on each other. The Datsun stood at the doorway for an awkward moment before he thanked Sunny and hurried out, leaving the twins' domicile practically unoccupied.

Once in a blue moon, Sunstreaker had the room to himself. Today's moon looked azure enough, considering Sideswipe was out for at least an hour. It was time for a little primping.

Sunstreaker loved polishing himself. He had squirreled away an excessive amount of Iacon Gold Laquer (sharing with no one, to Tracks' fury), bringing it out only on special occasions, which today was. Hey, having a room to himself was momentous enough. He turned on the radio but the only signal he could get was classical. A request would be given to Wheeljack to fix that broken antenna soon enough; but for now Sunstreaker had to settle for music that suggested the mood was "elegant."

Squeezing enough for his head onto the buff, Sunstreaker set to work rubbing the compound as he watched himself in the mirror. The light was better in his and Sideswipe's room if the hallway light spilled in, too, giving the yellow mech an advantage when he had to dig into the crease where his face met the rest of his helmet.

"Ahhhh," he sighed, satisfied. That part felt the best.

Every mech has a polishing pattern (the ones that can be bothered to do it). This Lamborghini was no different. He carefully made his way around the neck and shoulder area, using light strokes to prompt a sigh of relief at the soft buffing the compound gave as it made him glisten. As he worked he could hear an approaching conversation in the corridor, noisy and disruptive. It halted as soon as it neared the twins' dwelling.

"Oh Primus," one of them gasped. Sunny ignored him, shutting off his optics and reaching for that tough spot on his lower neck that he couldn't reach very well. He had to arch his shoulders while his hand slid downward, the sensation making him sigh a little.

"Trailbreaker!" someone hissed. "Get over here!"

"What is it?" a third voice came in, low and pleasant.

"Shh!" The violin concerto was not as loud as the hushing noise, but for the sake of this exercise the Lamborghini decided it was.

Sunstreaker had to swallow the maniacal giggle threatening to bubble up as the crowd continued growing in both size and volume. His hands continued to work their way down, down, DOWN to the tapered part of his back, which felt heavenly. His air intakes quickened a little.

"Wow," someone whispered in an awed tone.

He began to relax as he applied more polish to finish off his back. The compound had a warming affect on his cool plating, tingling when rubbed the right way. Sunny made sure it did just that.

"That's a skidplate you could bounce bolts off of," Trailbreaker muttered admiringly as Sunny rubbed the part in question. It felt so good he actually allowed a third of his mouth to slide upwards as he turned for a sideways profile. Somebody whistled.

"Will you guys shut up?" Cliffjumper hissed. Radio as a pretense or not, they were getting rowdy in the entrance. Sunny turned on his optics again, concentrating on the planes and angles of his arms as he lovingly caressed them with the buff. He was beautiful; the perfect shade of golden maize accentuated with jet black in all the right places, not a dent or a scratch to mar the aesthetics, and a shine that even the vainglorious Tracks had to envy. Breathtaking, if robots could breathe. Sunny noticed a finger slightly misaligned. Usually he would fix it manually, but an impulse to ease it sloooooowly into his mouth, probing slightly before readjusting it with his jaw creating suction, proved to be a better idea.

"Holy slag," a new observer whispered. The violins sang longingly for Dvorak in Movement Number Two. Sunny knew because while he stretched in an appealing way the piece was being explained to the loyal listeners of Matt Janik, radio DJ. Sunny had to strain to make him out over the rising tide of voyeurs.

"That's it baby…a little further down…"

"BAM! That's HOT!"

"You know, he can hear you!" Skids was chased away and Warpath was told to shut up or he'd have NO trouble making BAM noises without a vocalizer. Up next: Mozart. Blah. Sunny wasn't a big fan of earth music, not like Jazz, who argued that all culture was worth appreciation, not just their own respective cities.' There wasn't much culture left from the twin's home municipality after the Decepticons leveled it. What few Autobots left tried to preserve the memories, but their perspectives were not all-encompassing; besides, it was hard to hold onto an ethnicity when there were no opportunities-or cohorts-to affirm it. Hound, in one of their more serious discussions (right now he was rubbing his hands together as Sunny leaned back against the wall to caress his chestplate just so), thought that Autobot culture was dead, unless they combined what they knew and made up the rest. No one was willing, and they never would be, because a conglomeration would involve compromise, and no mech would compromise the only aspects of their old lives in the name of group unity.

That was believable, especially when at this microscopic moment in time the group behind him still did not congeal. They were honking at each other like a gaggle of Canadian geese, each commenting on what THEY considered erotic. He could hear their mutterings behind him when he went back to staring in the mirror, smearing more of the compound onto his chestplate.

"I can't see!"

"Has he done his feet yet?"

"Move it!"

"Get in the back!"

"You make a better door than a window!"

Sideswipe glared as he shoved his way through the agitated crowd. "I LIVE HERE."

"SHHHHH!"

It was laughable. The issue that no one ever stopped to consider was why Sunny felt the urge to polish with his door open. Sunstreaker leaned way over, legs shoulder-length apart, to get at his feet, and heard a low hiss. So that's what the as-yet-unacknowledged observers wanted. Slowly, making sure that he was bent in half at just the right angle, the yellow Lamborghini concentrated on this heels, to the somewhat stifled whimper of the group behind him.

It was like shooting an injured Deceptitraan. Once he was completely shiny a still bowed Sunny flattened the palm of his hand and smacked the right side of his rear end, glancing around his leg at the gaping mass of Autobot. One, two, four, ten-twelve! That was an impressive array of lustful brutes. A slow, satisfied smile emerged as he witnessed a guilty Prowl making a break for it now that he'd been caught.

"Did I miss a spot?" Sunstreaker asked the few dropped jaws trying to come back up. Dignity was scrambled for by those who assumed they had it to begin with. The long suppressed laugh came out as he stood up to applause and commentary.

"Better than TV."

"Do you need help with your back?"

"Makes me forget I'm -WHAM! - bonded."

"Bravo!"

"Seriously, let me help you with that back of yours."

"I can't feel my legs."

"I'm pretty sure I can't hear Mozart again without getting hot."

"I know it!"

Sideswipe shut the door on the dispersing congregation and glared at his brother. "Did you see Perceptor out there?"

That would make it thirteen (unspoken was the fact that the microscope probably left he minute he saw Sideswipe).

"Did you see Tracks?" Sunstreaker smirked. "He looked like he wanted to fire his missiles at me! And PROWL..."

"Prowl was waiting for me to show up so that he could yell at us for sawing the lab door in half," Sideswipe countered. He snickered. "We scared the slag out of Skyfire when he tried to slam the door in Gears' face. You should've seen it."

Sunstreaker gave a contemptuous snort. He had missed a spot: his elbows were drippy. "Blue was looking for you."

"Yeah. He's been acting weird around me lately." Sideswipe eyed his brother cautiously.

"He likes you." Bluestreak had no subtlety. Neither did Sunstreaker. "Go ahead. Just warn me when you're gonna do it so I can be GONE."

Sideswipe laughed uneasily. "I wouldn't do that to you, bro."

"Go ahead. It was a long time ago." Before the ark crashed Sunstreaker and Bluestreak had attempted to be a couple, but when they woke up from their long sleep things had cooled on Sunstreaker's part. Bluestreak stayed his friend in hopes of a change of spark until the tumult that was Hound made it obvious that Sunny had no intention of reliving history. Sunstreaker genuinely did not care, and told his brother as much.

"Sunny, I care. I wouldn't do that to you." Sideswipe didn't touch him, knowing it would only tick off his twin if he smudged the polish; instead he gave him a schmaltzy smile and a cute voice. "I love you, man."

This mush was too much. "You sound like Warpath and Cosmos," he taunted. "You're not going out with Blue 'cause you're not worthy."

Sideswipe crouched down to see if the tube of Superglue he'd misplaced last night was under his recharge plate. 'Not worthy' was a good way of putting it, but the yellow mech was sick of hearing it already.

"Yeah. I got something better goin' on with Prowl. Since he's been riding us so much I figured I should make it official."

Sunny didn't waver. "Good. He'll need a distraction when he sees what we're doing next."

"You have not explained your decision to annoy me as I work," Starscream prompted.

Astrotrain tried to smile pleasantly, instead looking like he was being fed into a vat of acid feet first. "Blitzwing and I are-sorry-about what happened last week."

"You should be!" Starscream had been lured down into the basement by Octane so that Blitzwing and his associate could ransack his laboratory. Starscream had been tipped off by Swindle (one of the things he had learned early in his Decepticon experience was to have any mech who could be sold kept on retainer). When he returned earlier than anticipated he walked in on the two sharing energy fields on his table. In the usual course of events Starscream had a conniption, Megatron found out about everything that had happened, the triple-changers piled the blame on their youngest comrade, and Octane was sent back to Cybertron demoted, ruining all chances of he and Starscream rekindling their fiery relationship. Both Blitzwing and Astrotrain hid from their former Air Commander until now (STILL classified by an annoyed Megatron as 'foot soldier' for a record length of time!) when they needed him the most.

"Does this mean you're still mad at us?"

He received a grunt as a reply.

"C'mon, Starscream, you guys broke up WAY before that happened, remember? We kind of did you a favor."

"Your concept of a 'favor' differs radically from mine," the scientist replied, noting the flammability of the human snack cake. "I'd hate to see your idea of revenge."

He couldn't have planned a better set-up if he tried. "That's why I'm here. We need your help to get back at Megatron for taking Octane out of here."

Starscream burst into contemptuous laughter, ignoring the conflagration in front of him to savor the lunacy of that statement. He pointed to the doorway presenting its latest arrival.

"The day I aid you in another one of your petro-rabbit brained endeavors is the day that pipsqueak over there comes bearing good news."

Frenzy hated Starscream. As he stood in the doorway, wondering how to best retort, he glanced at Astrotrain, who looked as though he were trying not to swallow a mouthful of used oil.

"So what message do you bring me, Rumble?"

Frenzy REALLY hated Starscream. "Megatron wants to see you."

"As expected." Starscream put out the Twinkie fire and hustled his observers through the door, locking it behind him. "Do not come into my presence with your paltry apologies and poorly fabricated schemes again, Astrotrain. I'd rather be Megatron's Deceptitraan for the rest of my existence before I support another triple changer debacle."

"Fine," the gray and purple mech sulkily replied, hiding his delight well. Octane saying Starscream was smarter than they thought - is, was, and always would be a joke, as far as the rest of them were concerned.

When they reconstructed their ship to suffice as an underwater base the largest room was secured as the Decepticon nucleus. Megatron, the nucleolus, scowled down on his mitochondria for not assembling enough chloroplasts for the rest of the body of Cybertronians. As Starscream worked to reconnect the Golgi Apparatus he listened to the questioning of Frenzy.

"You have been functioning on this planet for six earth years." Megatron leaned onto one hand, crooked smile radiating some kind of disconcerting mixture of menace and charm.

"Uh, yeah, boss." He was far too informal. Thundercracker, unwilling institutor of Decepticon protocol, waspishly shot the small mech on the shoulder as a reprimand and corrected him. Frenzy carefully kneeled, gave the Decepticon salute and apologized, keeping his visor focused on the floor in deference.

Their leader gave no acknowledgement to any of this sidetrack, as was correct. Instead, he asked the mech what he had been doing with his time. Frenzy politely replied that he had been a key component in energon collection and a helping hand in battle.

"What have you learned in your time here?"

Frenzy paused, as he should have (to show the weightiness of one's question, since the longer it took one to answer a query the more respect you showed), and replied that from Soundwave he had learned the best ways to maximize the resources of a planet rich in energon, as well as successful battle techniques. Starscream had a good snicker at that. Their leader did not glance his way, instead praising the red and black mech for listening to his superior's prompting.

"In all of his sycophantic training did he inform you of the more personal duties of a Decepticon soldier?"

Frenzy had been uneasy before; now he was visibly shaken. Starscream could see the tableau in front of him flicker, each in a private recollection of the first time Megatron had asked them that. Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Dirge shuddered slightly. Motormaster scowled. Soundwave took a step forward, as though to bid his beloved cassette return, but caught himself in time. Over all of this the nucleolus benevolently smirked.

"Megatron, uh, my lord, uh...Rumble did." His voice squeaked slightly. "He said we have a duty to…to…prove…our loyalty to you by giving ourselves…completely." The tiny mech was trembling so hard his kneeling position wavered. He placed a fist on the floor for balance.

"Indeed. Well put." The friendly posture changed to a more authoritative one. "Considering your knowledge of this particular catechism, it pains me to hear of your recent activities with a fellow combatant." Soundwave pressed a button and the picture of Frenzy and Reflector, en flagrant delit in a rather graphic pose, caused more than one Decepticon to audibly react.

Starscream stood up, his task accomplished. So Megatron's spies had spies…and even Soundwave's own creations were not safe. Frenzy sputtered, panicking, as Megatron's ion cannon wheezed.

This was not new. Reflector had been dealt with this morning in a more private meeting, something Starscream had heard about from Thundercracker. This time there were more Decepticons and none of them looked unhappy about this. They looked amused. Motormaster stared at the picture and Skywarp was chuckling with Thundercracker while Dirge wiped his optics and Soundwave blankly stared at a spot on the wall behind the other Seekers. The high-pitched laugh was out before he realized it.

"Are you still here?" his leader snarled.

"I am delighted you're going to execute him over this!" howled the jet in response. "Bad taste should be punished."

"I did not invite your contributions; however, you do have a previously unconsidered point. Frenzy, you are hereby sentenced to guard duty until I feel like remembering you. The rest may leave; I wish to speak to him and my former second-in-command alone."

Starscream watched them shuffle out and awaited his punishment as he kneeled in front of the main source of his problems.

Megatron scowled from his throne. "Starscream, do our newest recruit the honor of presenting your endless fount of knowledge. What are the four acceptable loves of a Decepticon?"

His voice never inflected. "The four acceptable loves of a Decepticon: the cause, yourself, power, and your leader."

"Unacceptable," their leader less-than-begrudgingly acknowledged. "The order was incorrect."

"I graduated - with top honors - before your revisions were instituted, mighty Megatron." Starscream's sneer was as thick as the layer of mud that clung to the base. "Although I am certain you expected me to rank them as love for your leader, the cause, Cybertron, and energon."

"Those are correct."

The Seeker snorted. Only in Megatron's twisted processor.

"Prove it," Ratchet challenged.

"I agree with Ratchet," Prowl chimed in.

Perceptor protested. "Empirical substantiation would be difficult."

"Ah'm tellin' ya, there are FORE types of love in yore lahfe: yore first, the one that wanted ya more, the one ya wanted more, and the one ya end up with. In no pah'ticyaler order after yore first."

The debate had begun when Perceptor shyly confessed to a curious group of Optimus' friends that he'd never been in love before. They had cornered him in line for energon, demanding to know if their observations between the two were valid, were they an item? Perceptor's denial lead to teasing, then incredulous questions, leading up to the rhetorical question of just how many great loves DID a mech expect to have in his life?

"The humans only expect one," Smokescreen announced. The mechs found this idea ludicrous.

"Autobot folklore has stated six," Perceptor inserted. No one agreed.

"You aren't kidding. Folklore! I'll be lucky if I ever see anyone worth dating, let alone being in love with!" exclaimed Ratchet, bitterly disappointed with the professional mind merge that kept him chained to someone he didn't care for at all, and another – later - merge that was better off dead.

"You have a personality that guarantees your status," assured Prowl.

The CMO growled at the strategist. "Whaddaya mean by that?"

"My apologies; upon hearing your tone I concluded your preference of being alone." Ratchet neither confirmed nor refuted his statement, instead demanding Ironhide substantiate his assertion with an example.

"Okay. Mah first love was mah mentor. My second love, Fortrunner, wanted to be with me more than Ah did. Chromia, mah third love, was the one I ended up with. Ah never had the love I wanted more, BUT ask any 'bot here an' he'll tell ya about theirs."

"I will, then. Hey! Jazz! Get over here! You losers, too!"

Perceptor mentally shrank back as the Lamborghini brothers, accompanied by their entourage, listened to Ratchet's explanation and proceeded to react as diversely as possible. The only mech who agreed with Ironhide was Sideswipe.

"I've seen 'em all, and that's a pretty good range of categories," he said, optics finally resting on Perceptor. "You forgot the section for sadistic toasters who only want to hurt you."

Jazz agreed, stating his last relationship. Blaster had his nerve, waiting almost a year after their first kiss before making his move and then being with Jazz only about an earth month before declaring him incompatible. That was impossible!

Prowl nodded. "I believe the fault lies in Blaster." Jazz beamed.

"Nobody asked you," Ratchet snarled, still smarting from Prowl's last comment. "Maybe you are an irritation, Jazz."

They almost made it: half a second lapsed before the whole table erupted in guffaws.

Megatron's cackle irritated Starscream into protesting that he was sorry he'd learned the correct idea, instead of his propaganda.

"Will ya shut up? You're pissing him off!" Frenzy hissed as loudly as he dared.

"Stay out of this, Reflector-lover." Megatron's still outcast second-in-command had not feared any type of retribution from anyone for so long he'd forgotten that being at the bottom of the hierarchy meant he had no power. He also had nothing to lose. Megatron had nothing to gain, either; last year the scientist realized that Megatron's mind invasion had somehow worn off. He didn't know how he knew, it just dawned on him one afternoon while he was in his lab. The Decepticon leader had kept his distance.

"Bite me, basement boy. I heard about Octane."

"Enough!" their leader bellowed. After a few seconds of glaring, he sat back down. "It seems that I have been too lax on both of you, if you're inclined to chase after your fellow warriors like a couple of Autobots on leave. This is obviously a symptom of a larger problem." One corner of his mouth curled up sardonically. "Neither of you has been called to pay homage to me, for my own reasons. Apparently you are aching for some kind of social distraction, leading me to conclude I must reconsider my evaluation of you." The two subjects exchanged worried glances. Megatron's condescending talk made Frenzy feel as though he were falling off a cliff, shot, waiting to hit the ground.

Megatron stood up and walked down to both of his kneeling audience, head tilted as though he were considering a serious problem, instead of one in which violence would have provided a quicker, better solution. His optics glowed.

"Kiss him."

"Whaa?" Frenzy's head snapped up, forgetting his manners in confusion. Megatron slapped the cassette hard enough to slide him across the room as Starscream flinched.

"If you are so desperate to indulge in the joys of contact for the amusement of all Decepticons-" The tape of Starscream and Octane had been passed around like an oilcan before a spy mission. "-then you will have no qualms in engaging in such activities for mine."

Frenzy still could not process this. "Megatron! You can't be serious!" He hated Starscream! If that stupid Seeker got any closer to him, he'd shoot him.

Megatron's lowest foot soldier scooped the smaller mech up. Grimacing in distaste, he confirmed Frenzy's fear. "Yes, he is." 'This had better be good,' he thought as his revulsion was swallowed by the tape's mouth meeting his.

Nothing was more humorous to the Decepticon leader than his servants making sour faces as they did such reluctant tender motions for his entertainment. Megatron laughed hysterically, calling for more.

"AUGH!" The twins looked up to see the human Spike racing away from a discombobulated Bumblebee, who was calling to the teen that what he saw was not what he thought it was.

"You were going at it with GEARS!"

The yellow mini-bot shrugged. "Well, then, it WAS what you thought."

"You told me you guys didn't do that!" The human waved his arms around the commissary in agitation as he signaled the other (previously unnoticed due to their subtlety) couples in the room. "That you were asexual."

"A what?" asked Sideswipe, now interested in the conversation. So Bumblebee DID have it in him. Only Gears could bring it out.

Bumblebee ignored the larger Autobots. "Spike...we're in combat a lot. When we're not, we like to, uh, you know - relieve the pressure with some one-on-one time."

"Is that all you guys do? Fuck and fight?" Spike's eyes were as round as Ultra Magnus'.

Jazz snickered while the twins exchanged puzzled glances with Bluestreak and Blaster. "I've been meaning to ask you, what's a fuck?" They'd heard the word before, even used it, but had never made its proper definition a high priority, preferring to concentrate on the distracting chaos of war and fun that was their lives instead of ubiquitous American words.

The human, startled, shrugged. This clique of Autobots did not talk to him very often, shunning most of humanity unless it was in their way on the road. He didn't even realize they were listening. "You know...have sex."

"Where do you get sex?" Sideswipe interrogated. He'd heard the word 'fuck' in movies, but was unsure of its context with this 'sex' thing. Quentin Tarantino movies had a myriad of uses for 'fuck.' Jazz cracked up. "Shut up, Jazz. Spike?" The young man was apparently embarrassed with the unwanted attention his usage of a casual oil-rig word had elicited.

"Uh...I can't explain it."

"Could you show it?" Bluestreak asked, as Jazz laughed harder.

Spike blushed. "Not-Hey!" he called, inspired. "Do you guys have a tape player?"

"In the main control panel room," Sideswipe explained, curiosity growing. "Why?"

"Suck my cock, ho!"

Jazz rolled on the floor while Sunny covered his optics in disgust. Sideswipe looked at the cardboard cover of the tape. "Backdoor Sluts 5." Bluestreak leaned forward to get a better view, as though that would clear the whole mess up.

"THIS is fucking?" he demanded. "Humans sticking things into holes and making cow noises?"

Jazz started pounding the ground. Spike shrugged apologetically.

"It's not all like that."

"I'll say!" Bumblebee put in. "When was the last time you saw two females attack a male like that?"

"I saw it on the Discovery Channel," replied Optimus Prime, who had just come in after complaints about the volume of noise coming out of the main control room necessitated his intervention. "But they were lions." Spike dove for the remote in mortification, but not before they all got an opticful of something called a 'three-way.' Two elegant blue-eyed, olive-skinned women, identical in appearance, were lowering themselves onto a man lying on the floor while trying to (what looked like) bite each other's faces off. "Spike, the noise volume must be diminished. Perceptor is complaining."

"Frag Perceptor," growled Sideswipe, optics on fire. Prime ignored it, no small feat, being that the pronouncement was the only noise in the room now that Spike had stopped the movie. Optimus asked him why he'd done that. Was what they saw unacceptable?

"My dad would think so. He calls it pornography. It-it's not something humans like to talk about." He shoved the tape into his backpack, face red. "In fact, they pretend it doesn't exist. Most people think it's a sin."

Prime nodded his head. "Perhaps if this is the case you should not be exposing my warriors to it."

"Sorry Optimus," he muttered. He had to go anyway, he was late for class. Bumblebee transformed and took off with his human compatriot, no doubt arguing over the stupidity of Spike playing the tape. Prime shooed everyone but Bluestreak out; he had to talk to him.

Jazz whistled. "Man! We gotta get more of that stuff! That was hilarious!"

Sunstreaker scowled deeper. "That was awful."

"I bet I could get it," Sideswipe offered, always eager to reconnect himself with any planet's black market. "If it's a sin like Sparkplug says, then there has to be a lot of it out there. We could have a party!"

"I'll spread the word. Get more of that three-way stuff!" the Porsche called, hurrying down the hallway to spread the word.

Frenzy bolted out of Megatron's throne room, practically sobbing, as Starscream rested on his back and awaited his leader's dismissal of him, too.

"You have again validated your usefulness," Megatron stated, still amazed. He'd gotten them to not only pervert themselves for his divertissement; they'd swallowed their pride hard enough to let him become their new focus halfway through. Starscream had kept the sour facial expression and Frenzy had whimpered for Soundwave twice, but other than that…

Blocking his line of vision was a lean blue arm, with tapered fingers gleaming in the harsh light, curling and uncurling as they tried to rid themselves of the horrible memories that coursed through their owner like the energon in his pipes. The fingers itched for glory but grasped at thin air, flopping like a dying fish and for some reason making Megatron uncomfortable.

It was the same unsettling feeling he'd experienced the day he invaded Starscream's processor, the sensation that something was wrong, that he was not in control of the situation. That same unease had returned the day the Seeker had managed to disconnect himself from Megatron. They'd never recovered the tie, nor had Megatron found any leads to re-obtain the connection. Still unpredictable, Starscream had again proven his unstable reliability by debasing himself in disgusting ways without complaint. Right now he was somberly awaiting his leader's next statement, seeming to know that no compliment of Megatron's arrived alone. He was right. The fingers twitched.

"What leaves much to be desired is your technique."

He sat up and was promptly smacked back down for being higher than his leader. "My technique is fantastic," Starscream snarled. "None have complained."

"A fourth-rate Autobot and a new triple-changer don't know any better. I am not so easily conciliated." He motioned for the Seeker to lie on top of him. "Come over here and demonstrate to me what makes you fantastic."

"Who's your daddy, bitch?" snarled the silver-haired, forty-ish male.

"Ah! Ah!" shrieked the brunette woman as an entire fist disappeared in between her legs. Sunstreaker got up and left the room, ostensibly to 'hurl,' making Sideswipe laugh harder.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh. No. Candy! My. Roommate." The female, although nude, showed no shame as the other poorly- dressed female, a blonde, wagged a playful finger at them. She had just come in from somewhere cold, according to Wheeljack.

"Cindy? How COULD you? That is my boyfriend!"

"How about you join us?" the male parroted in a fake naughty voice.

"Okay!" she cried enthusiastically, dress removed in one fluid motion. She was naked underneath, but had kept her white ankle socks and pink high-heeled shoes on for some reason. Ironhide proclaimed it 'haht' and guzzled more energon.

"You are a sick mech, 'Hide," proclaimed Cliffjumper, unable to tear his optics away from the bouncing lower half of the brunette.

"This one is monotonous! Play the hentai!" That had to be Skyfire, the cartoon fan. From an unexplained and frightening place he'd produced something called 'Alien Robot Love.' Sideswipe's procurement had only required a credit card. Who KNEW where the large jet had acquired his tape?

"No way! The male has the females upside down!" Wheeljack shoved Jazz out of the way.

"What are you doing, taking notes?"

"You know he is!" called Cliffjumper.

"Blaster would not consent to an entire arm up his tailpipe, Jazz. Sorry." Skyfire glanced at Sideswipe pleadingly. Now that his former flame had been badly burned by Perceptor, Sideswipe was, at least in Skyfire's optics, forgiven for past transgressions.

Jazz chuckled sarcastically, mouth twisted in a sneer. "We broke up. Thanks for reminding me." Blaster was there, too, but had ignored Jazz the whole night.

"I am sorry. I merely wished to accentuate the rhetoric of who would enjoy such an invasion."

"Ah Dunno. Did Stahrscream lahk it?" Ironhide was a mean drunk. Sideswipe exploded with laughter, enjoying this far too much. As far as he was concerned, Skyfire had a long way to go before he was forgiven.

"I'm coming!" screamed the blonde. The brunette echoed the sentiment, mirroring her roommate.

"She's already there," commented Wheeljack as Sunstreaker returned with more high-grade energon, gleaned from their still stashed in the closet next door. He demanded to know if this movie marathon was finished.

"One more," Sideswipe assured him, pushing 'play' to start Skyfire's science fiction.

"It is the year 2005..." droned a low voice during the credits.

"Sucks!" pronounced Tracks from his cuddling session with Blaster.

"Go back to cheating on Ultra Magnus!" snarled Sunstreaker, who seemed the most resentful of Tracks' presence. "Nobody invited you, anyway!"

"Shut up!" the others hollered. Sunstreaker began to dispense the energon instead of watching the program's content intensify.

Two identical robots, in the most ridiculous bodies any of them had ever seen, removed plating to reveal human parts. They began messaging each other in strange ways, one stooping down to put one of the other's smallest appendages in his mouth.

No one spoke. The two were getting more enthusiastic, begging the other for 'it.' They called each other baby. As they continued their game, another watched them, chuckling as he loaded his weapon. Suddenly, he was as stiff as they were, playing with his gun as he swore vengeance. The clone robots rolled around on the ground, changing positions every so often. Finally, the other robot 'couldn't take it anymore' and crashed the party, demanding to be 'serviced' before he 'destroyed them.' The two obliged, moaning as they placed their arms around him and alternated who kissed him.

Fifteen Autobots collectively sat up straighter, lapsing into a shocked silence that allowed them to hear Cosmos and Warpath talking as they walked by in the hallway. Sideswipe had no idea why. It wasn't any different from the other smut they'd been laughing at a few minutes ago. The cooing and moaning, as ridiculous as it seemed to the twins, was taken as seriously as a battle briefing by the others. He didn't have long to find out the processing behind their behavior.

"Hey…Sunny? Siders?...Do you guys…do that?" Bumblebee asked, voice in a hushed tone, as though the awe of the idea were too much.

"If you do, can I get in on it?" chimed Gears.

"Yeah!" chorused a few others.

"No!" cried Sideswipe indignantly.

"Aw, c'mon!"

"That would be fun!"

"You guys share a lot of stuff…how would this be any different?"

"Aren't you even the least bit curious?"

"I wouldn't mind Sideswipe and TRACKS."

"Or Red Alert and Sunny."

Blaster's voice rang out authoritatively. "No way. It's the twins or nobody."

Sunstreaker got in front of the television- as the villain, having had his fill of the two he'd been sworn to kill, began his murderous rampage- ignoring the boos from the mini-bots. "I will only say this once: we do not share. Anything. Ever. Get whatever disgusting picture you have in your processor erased or get out, you weirdos."

He meant it. In the midst of the stampede for the door Skyfire paused to retrieve his tape, exhibiting his disappointment with a black scowl. Sunstreaker glared at all of them as Jazz, still sitting on the floor, grinned like an idiot, head swiveling to observe the grumbling Autobots' departure.

"I thought it was kinda cool," the Porsche commented mischievously.

"Whatever. Get out." Sunstreaker was not gentle. He didn't have to be, not with the laid-back personality of Jazz. Sure enough, the saboteur stood up without being offended as the crankier of the two settled down on his recharge plate.

"I wanted to ask you guys a favor."

"No," Sunny interjected before Sideswipe could be more diplomatic. "I don't share anything with him."

"Not even for revenge?" Jazz had a very devious glint in his visor. Sideswipe said he was listening; Sunny, facing the wall, declared he was not. Jazz walked over whispered in Sunny's audios that he was the only one who could do it, and if he didn't think he was popular enough, there was always Tracks…

The yellow mech brushed the black and white off of him like a fly. "I'll listen. But I won't do it."

"Maybe I should ask Tracks. He's a lot better looking-"

"Will you cut the Seekerslag and get on with it?"

"I want to get back at Blaster." It did not produce the reaction he'd hoped for. His audience shrugged. "He dumped me! ME! The Jazzmiester!" Sunstreaker replied that everyone gets dumped sooner or later; Sideswipe told him to shut up. "I want him to see that he threw away somethin' sweet. So I thought, what's something every Autobot wants?"

"Besides their old lives back?"

"I don't know, time off would be nice."

"Megsy's head on a platter."

"I miss Cybertron."

"A new enamel coating, maybe."

"Close, but no cigar. They want you. Better still, both of you. At the same time." Surely now he would get the reaction he hoped for. He did.

"No fraggin way!"

"I'm not making out with my own metal and energy to make you look better to Blaster!"

"That's just wrong!"

"Get out!" Sunstreaker stood up to confront the irritation head-on.

"Hey! Don't hit the gas before you get outta park! Let me finish!" He had to move quickly or else he'd be pounded into a new alt mode. "You would PRETEND to do it. Not really do it. It'll be fun!"

"Fun for YOU!" Sunstreaker was lifting him up to throw him out on his tailpipe.

"So do you think Hound'll hit the brakes when he notices you're having fun without him?" the Porsche wheedled softly.

Sunstreaker dropped his cargo, returning to his plate as he appealed to his brother. "Will you get him to talk like he has a processor?"

Sideswipe shook his head sadly at the mech on the floor. "Jazz…you can't really expect us to pretend we're into that kind of thing just for everyone else's entertainment."

"Like Perceptor's?" Jazz never missed a trick. "You have no idea what kind of reaction this'll get. It'll be big. Trust me, things'll get interesting if we do this." He smiled convincingly. No reaction. "C'mon, for me." Sunstreaker threw a wrench at him. Jazz ducked. "I thought you could handle anything," he sighed, shrugging disappointedly. "Now…"

They exchanged facial communication for a silent moment. "Two conditions." Sideswipe snapped.

"Three," his brother interrupted.

"One, we don't touch each other. We'll touch you, but I ain't going NEAR him."

Jazz nodded.

"Two. We say when it's over."

"That's negotiable." They might get cold feet before it got interesting if they had too much power over the situation.

"These aren't flexible. You get 'em or you don't."

Jazz sighed. He could always depend on his charm to keep them. "Sure."

"Three," Sunny rushed, before Siders could say it, "I'M the better kisser."

"You are not!" Sideswipe objected, throwing a datapad with pictures of cars on it.

"I am. Who else practiced on everybody in the Academy?" Sunstreaker threw it back.

"Who would be dumb enough to be proud of that?" An oil bottle sailed across the room, bouncing off of the yellow arm raised to block it.

Sunny snarled like a captive beast. "At least I got some action." Jazz ducked a ricocheting blaster piece.

"I chose quality over quantity, and they rated me the best." The polish rag didn't do much harm.

"That's 'cause the geek squad never had me. If they did, you'd know they'd never say that!" An energon vial smashed against Sideswipe, who didn't flinch.

"They weren't all geeks. And if they had known you, they'd have known the truth!" Sunstreaker had to be careful of the shards coming at him like tiny, paint scratching asteroids.

Apparently the twins' laziness prevented them from getting up and confronting the other. Jazz saw no advantage in mediating their dispute. Well, maybe one.

"I could help you out with this," the visored mech offered, finally getting a word in edgewise. "No problem. Who's first?"

He was pelted with enough junk to encourage his escape.

The main Decepticon meeting room had no charm about it. There was no furniture, no décor to speak of, and because energon was rationed to maximize their exported goods there was nothing to consume; instead it was a room for one to distrustfully eye his comrades until Megatron called them up to perform their own tasks.

Soundwave quietly repaired Ravage's broken claws, an injury courtesy of that irritating mech Bumblebee. Most of his cassettes had some sort of work done to them after battles in the common room due to Starscream being the only one with a laboratory. If this inconvenienced him the tape player never commented. Astrotrain asked him about it as they awaited Frenzy's return.

"Facilities unnecessary," he droned. "Maintenance requests are infrequent."

Blitzwing had been having a boasting competition with Skywarp and Thundercracker (Skywarp was lying, Thundercracker called him out twice for inconsistencies) when hurried footsteps rushed into the common room to produce a disheveled Frenzy searching eagerly for his master.

"Boss!" he cried, racing over and transforming in the air. Blitzwing glanced at his fellow triple-changer, who nodded furtively.

Soundwave pushed open his tape receiver and allowed the black and red mech in, stalwart face never revealing what Frenzy told him, but his body language gave it away. After a few minutes of silent playback the large blue mech sat down. He drew his knees up in his arms, body completely hugging the tape inside of him.

"Boss?" Rumble asked. No response. Ravage urgently scratched the white and silver leg and was ignored as well.

Skywarp snorted. Thundercracker glanced over at the Coneheads, who were watching the play in front of them intently. Blitzwing saw his window.

"What happened, Frenzy?" he asked.

Soundwave transformed and allowed the small tape to tell the story, to the horror of all around him. When he finished, Rumble picked up both the tape and his master and held the whole package in his small arms like a child holds a teddy bear.

Astrotrain stepped in, fist in the air. "Fellow Decepticons! For too long we have endured the disgusting advances of the one we have sworn our loyalty to, the one who should not require any more affirmation! Before you disregard my address, recall that as he does to the least of us, he will eventually do to ALL of us!"

"Look what he did to Frenzy!" cried Rumble. "How is kissing Starscream something we have to do to prove we're good Decepticons!"

"Yeah!" cried the Coneheads.

"Blow it out your afterburners," sneered Thundercracker. "You triple changers are always looking for an excuse to take over."

"Not true. I don't want to take over." Lie! "I want him to leave us alone. To treat us like soldiers, not like Autobots!"

"Eh," the others replied, turning away. They had heard enough permutations of this claim to have a quick saturation point.

He had to keep his cool, to avoid getting in trouble. "Suit yourselves," he shrugged. Blitzwing nodded surreptitiously and turned away to work on the other Seekers a little better.

Perceptor had taken to going offline mid-work. He could no longer lie on his plate at night and allow drowsiness to conquer him; someone had figured out how to override the door's code lock. Instead he worked until exhaustion overtook him. Unfortunately, his sleeping in the lab incited mischief as well. More than once he'd come online in microscope mode inside a shoebox or a coffee can or the trunk of Carly's new car or underwater or in a doghouse or hanging from an airplane wing or in a high school science room closet with other microscopes, or, worst of all, glued to the ceiling. Wheeljack found him and ran for the acetone.

"Quickly, Wheeljack!" he called impatiently. Prime would be there in to learn their new security system in ten minutes. Those cursed Lamborghini brothers!

The scientist could not see much, but he heard plenty: the laughter from passersby who noticed him was barely concealed. Jazz came in for the meeting and leaned against the table, singing 'Stuck on You.' Prowl followed and frowned, radioing Ironhide to give the twins a week of oil change duty when he ran into them. Perceptor seethed some more as Jazz continued humming and a strange sound began to gain momentum from the far end of the hall.

The whirring noise was faint at first. Whoosh. Whoosh. Crash! Clank clank clank whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh! It grew louder. Whoosh. Clank clank whoosh!

CRASH!

"Perceptor! Where-oh." Snicker. "I assumed my predicament was humiliating, but yours is far above mine."

About one-hundred fifteen meters above, to be exact. The twins had found the highest point in the lab to fasten him upside down to the one part of the Ark that had the most difficult access. Perceptor focused his lens to note that Tracks was having problems standing. He wobbled, holding on to the table for dear life. His feet were not near the floor. Jazz began a new song. "I got a brand new pair of roller-skates, you got a brand new key!"

"I hate you," Tracks growled before losing his balance and crashing to the floor again.

Wheeljack ran in with a suspension device, acetone, a screwdriver, a smiling Blaster, and Optimus Prime. Blaster took a look at Perceptor and cracked up.

"Nice!" he howled as Wheeljack floated up to free the scientist. Prime told him to be a little more considerate. "While we're waiting, Optimus, I was hoping you'd let me talk to you about an idea Tracks and I had."

Tracks wobbled a little, managing to keep his balance. He glided over to Blaster and grabbed his arm, not wanting to let go. Blaster patted him on the shoulder with his free hand. "You see, we were talking about all that time we're gonna spend in Phoenix/Tucson helping the government with that 'weapon' they want us to make."

"You were," Prowl declared, frowning as he pointed to the ceiling. "The rest of us were keeping it classified until Prime made the company-wide announcement."

Blaster looked up to see Wheeljack using the screwdriver as a lever to free Perceptor. "Oops." He grinned sheepishly.

"What Blaster was driving at," Tracks interrupted, almost losing his footing again, "is that we thought it might be good P.R. if we did a charity event for the town while we were there."

Jazz lost his amused smile as he watched Perceptor fall past Wheeljack's attempt to catch him, landing in Prime's arms instead. Optimus hastily placed the scientist on the lab table and backed away, giving him room to transform and to look significantly embarrassed.

"Wait a minute! That was my idea!" The Porsche had discussed it with Blaster the night before he was dumped.

Blaster feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway Prime, Tracks and I thought about stuff to do, and I thought it would be really cool to do a basketball game."

"I like it." Prime couldn't resist a chance to play that sport, meaning Blaster's idea now would get any green light the tape player needed. Jazz frowned.

"Here's the twist: you know how people like gimmicks? How about this one: We do it on those new Rollerblades people are buying like crazy, so we can get Rollerblade to sponsor us."

Tracks lifted a leg to show what had appeared to be roller skates but were, in reality, shoes with a line of wheels looking like a cross between roller skates and ice skates. Jazz had heard of them. He'd shown Blaster what they looked like when they were watching MTV. It looked like that no-talent tape player was taking every idea Jazz had shared with him.

"Autobots on wheels?" Prime glanced at Prowl, who shook his head. Tracks was excellent at reading Optimus' body language (being the target of his animosity, thus the reason why he was being quiet and falling all over himself on these stupid skates; Blaster had hoped seeing Tracks degraded would put Prime in a more favorable mood). He whispered something into Blaster's audios sharply.

"I could hold some practice sessions, so that we can get better at it," he suggested in a wheedling tone. Prime, although masked, did not change his expression. Tracks elbowed Blaster. "The proceeds go to AIDS research. You know, that disease Chip is working on?" Prime had a soft spot for the humans who had helped them when they first got here. It had hurt his feelings when the brilliant human Chip had nobly decided to cast off his electrical engineering career track and find a cure for retroactive viruses, but the heroic work the red-haired human was accomplishing had eradicated this feeling and replaced it with pride. Optimus couldn't resist finding ways to assist Chip's research. Jazz frowned deeper.

"I will allow it on the proviso that you make all of the arrangements yourself," Prime declared. Prowl still shook his head. "I would also prefer it did not interfere with our work with the United States Government and the United Nations."

Tracks and Blaster exchanged glances, shivering excitedly. "It won't, Prime. Thanks!" He pulled his Corvette companion out the door as Red Alert came in. Perceptor walked over to his extension of Teletraan-1 and began his presentation without a hiccup.

Always on time, Motormaster announced himself to Megatron's door, awaiting clearance to enter. (Being late guaranteed you a rough night. NO ONE was late.) As he waited, he pondered what he had heard from Blitzwing and Astrotrain. This was stupid. He didn't want to do nasty things with his leader; there were lines to draw, one of them being that there was no way on Cybertron he would willingly pay homage to his leader in this disgusting fashion again without better compensation. Astrotrain had been right, no matter how much Skywarp and Thundercracker said otherwise.

"Clear," the door announced, sliding open. The silver mech was not there.

"Megatron?" he asked. Although that pain-in-the-tailpipe Thundercracker had told them to address him as 'my leader' Motormaster would not do that. He was his own master.

"Leave me." Megatron rose from his recharge plate. "Order Dirge and Ramjet to see me in your place."

"Uh-" This was not what Motormaster had expected.

"I loathe to repeat myself. Go!"

"Uh-oh, um, kay." He wasn't going to linger. Motormaster hustled out of the room, debating whether or not to be relieved or offended his duty went unfulfilled.

Turn the wing nuts. Loosen the nuts and remove them from the screw. Remove the oil pan. Drain the oil pan. Drip drip drip drip drip -

"AUGH!" Sideswipe shook his head. Changing oil was messy, disgusting work. The closest thing Sideswipe had ever seen to it would be when Carly changed baby Daniel's diapers. At least human excrement could be washed off. Oil lingered in the cracks and crevices of their hands and arms, refusing to leave no matter how many times they took their bodies apart and cleaned them. Judging from Sunny's shriek, he must had spilled it on his chestplate again. Sure enough, Hoist's engine leavings and oil were seeping into the spots in his armor that were not oil-proof. Primus, the SMELL.

"Hold still! I'll try to get it off of you!" Sideswipe attempted to mop up the petroleum product, but it was greasy and had already started staining Sunny's interior.

"You're only spreading it!" Sunny cried, running for the chemical shower on the other side of the room. Sideswipe followed and attempted to clean it off in there. Sunstreaker continued bellowing, and Sideswipe yelled back. The chestplate had to be vigorously scrubbed in circles to get rid of the oil better, something hard to do when the victim was fighting with all of his might. Sunny shoved his brother away only to get thrown against the shower wall, suds flying as the chemical streamed down his body. Siders attacked his brother again, holding one of his arms down and working harder at the area around his waist that needed more attention. They looked up to see they had an audience.

"Where's a camera when you need it?" Blaster leered. A skate-free Tracks snickered beside him. Skids and Hoist, who had not wanted to miss the fun, even in mid-oil change, were next to them, staring.

Sideswipe jumped away from his brother. "You are all sick."

"Don't stop on our account!" Tracks prodded, still trying not to grin too wide. "Go on, Siders. Rub his chestplate a little harder."

Sunstreaker made a move to kill Tracks. "Don't call him that!"

Blaster got in between them, grinning even harder. "Wow, this is nice." He got whacked by both of them for his trouble. "OW!"

Sideswipe stomped out of the shower, ignoring the dripping chemicals around him, demanding Skids to get back to his spot so that they could finish.

"What did you do to get you here?" Hoist asked. The Lamborghini brothers had done this so often that one year they were awarded with a gold-colored oil pan For Excellent Services Rendered.

"Glued Perceptor to the ceiling," Sunstreaker replied. He didn't want culpability to be remotely directed towards Sideswipe. "I thought it would be fun to see him upside down."

Blaster muttered something to Tracks about this being why he dated normal mechs. Sunstreaker told them to beat it or they would find out what it was like to be covered in someone else's used oil. When they left, taking Hoist with them, Skids demanded to know what else they had done.

"You are the smartest mech in this army," Sideswipe proclaimed. Only Skids knew that they would never content themselves with merely sticking the microscope onto an elevated surface. "We had a little fun with his new security program."

No matter what Perceptor tried to do, the same message danced across his screen.

ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US.

"I'm impressed," Prime murmured.

"That they hacked into Perceptor's computer?" Red Alert asked. He shouldn't be: Perceptor could sleep through Decepticon attacks.

"No. That they know such an obscure reference."

Perceptor kicked Teletraan in frustration. Months of work, gone! And those mechs were the cause of this! "We will have to adjourn this meeting until the program has a better security system."

Prime nodded. "You have until tomorrow morning."

Prowl and Jazz marched/meandered out while Perceptor typed code into the computer, to no avail. Whatever they'd done, they'd done it well.

"Try not to allow it to upset you," Optimus murmured huskily over the scientist's shoulder after a few moments, causing him to jump.

"I will not," Perceptor replied, wondering why he felt more than a little flustered over his leader's kind words, words he would offer anyone. "Thank you."

He was already gone.

Whatever he had said to them, it worked, especially after what happened last night. One Decepticon tossed out in favor of two others! Megatron playing favorites was one thing, but this new turn of events made the triple-changers' earlier discarded words seem eerily prophetic. The next day Astrotrain walked down a hallway where a crowd of angry Seekers buzzed, resenting Megatron's newest mandate that anyone caught so much as snuggling with another Decepticon other than him would be shot immediately. This was uncalled for: all Seekers cuddled as an energon-sharing conservation tactic when power was low.

"Why can't we be with who we want?" demanded Thundercracker. "Why does it have to be him?"

Astrotrain took up the momentum again. "What would he do if he didn't have us whenever he wanted?"

"YEAH!" everyone chimed in.

"I say we boycott!" cried Dirge.

"Boycott what?" demanded Motormaster, sneaking up on them again. No one said a word, glaring disdainfully. The truck smiled knowingly. "We could do that. I'm all for letting him hang."

"Uh huh. Not with us you won't." Skywarp nudged him away. Thundercracker brought him back.

"We need someone to take the fall, idiot."

"Hey!" Motormaster protested. "NOBODY should take the fall if you do it right. If no Decepticon stands out he can't blame one of us." He scowled at his confused counterparts. "If one of us doesn't offer to negotiate alone, then he can't punish the leader. That kind of thing."

Astrotrain had thought of that a long time ago. No leader, no scapegoat. Still, it might be wise to make this truck think he was clever. "Not a bad idea!"

"Right."

Thundercracker glanced around, to see where the spies were. "If you're in, prove it."

There's an old Decepticon game where a soldier asks another how loyal he is to signify that he wants a gift of energon. Modern Decepticon loyalty measures were no less tangible. Motormaster produced a full cube and placed it in the middle of the circle with the others' collection.

"Who's holding it?" the Stunticon demanded.

"Nobody," Dirge countered, pocketing his half a cube as the others did likewise. "But if yours is lower than the last time we saw it, you're scrap."

That was the weirdest thing he'd ever heard. It meant two things: 1) anybody could turn on anyone else at any moment, and 2) he had no idea who was truly on his side and that he needed backup. That meant he had no choice. "You know, the other Stunticons might want to get in on this."

"Talk to one of us," Skywarp replied, speaking up at last.

"Any one of you?"

"Affirmative." They broke up quickly as Blitzwing walked by with a Constructicon. Although his discussion with Mixmaster never let up, his optic sparkled a secret signal to Astrotrain that no one caught.

It took two hours of thorough cleaning, but the twins finally felt presentable to the outside world. A pity, since they might have had a quicker meeting with a livid Ironhide if they reeked of twenty two changed oil pans. He yelled at them for a half an hour, finally announcing that they would have a much more severe punishment if they ever came across evidence that the two had done it. Instead he screamed and released the miscreants.

"Are you ready?" Sideswipe asked. Sunstreaker scowled.

"Yeah," he replied unconvincingly. Sideswipe patted him on the back as they entered the commissary.

Jazz sat at a table, coolly sipping the contents of his mug and trying not to grin as the boys got their energon and approached his empty table, which was in clear view of the disgustingly cute Blaster and Tracks.

"Hi Jazz," they chimed in unison, and although there had been a huge fist fight over this, Sideswipe leaned over and kissed Jazz on the cheek first. Sunstreaker leaned over and kissed the other one, sitting down and downing his energon. Jazz let Sideswipe put his arm around him, and Sunstreaker grabbed the hand resting on the table. Neither twin flinched.

Prowl did. His was the smallest reaction; the rest were shocked, attacking the table all at once.

"Did you see that!"

"What the SLAG!"

"I thought you said you didn't do that!"

"What did you do to get 'em, Jazz?"

"Man, if Jazz has improved that much on the plate since I had him I'll kiss Starscream at our next battle."

"You've kissed Starscream enough. And when did you get Jazz?"

"Screw that! Next time you get it on let me watch!"

"EWWW!" The Autobots hurried away from Gears as they surrounded the table to witness this oddity.

Blaster quietly finished his energon and abruptly rose from his spot, saying nothing to Tracks as he stalked out. Jazz hid a smirk.

"So who's the better kisser?"

"I am!" the twins shouted over Jazz's reply.

"Buzzsaw has uncovered an Autobot plot to aid the United Nations Peacekeeping Troops with a new weapons development."

Several members of Megatron's army recoiled in shock. Starscream recovered first.

"Since when do Autobots take sides in germ warfare?"

Megatron couldn't have put it better himself. Not that he would tell his ex-Air Commander that. The tape was vague: they discussed the unending battle against a serious threat to all, and how they had to take any means necessary to prevent its promulgation. The buzzard was beyond certain it was a weapons conference. Like the previous spy mission in which Laserbeak had been discovered, Buzzsaw was not able to uncover many details.

"Isn't that a bad idea?" Drag Strip asked. Thundercracker shook his head. The Stunticons would never learn proper protocol at this rate. "I thought all they wanted to do was stop us."

Megatron nodded. His Decepticons had eaten their Wheaties this morning. "As you so eloquently phrased it, the Autobots are jumping into the smelting pool that is human politics. Normally, we would allow them to engage in self-destructive tendencies such as upsetting futile leaders like the United Nations, but this particular endeavor puts us at a disadvantage. They are building a weapon." Even Dirge understood the ramifications of this: teaching the humans to better protect themselves against the Decepticons meant several things. It meant that taking power sources would be more difficult if their facilities were properly guarded. It put Optimus Prime in the unenviable position of being at the U.S. Government's beck and call. It allowed the humans to find ways to fight BOTH factions. Worst of all, it ticked off Megatron. There was a silver lining to the cloud: the Autobots would infuriate other countries for playing favorites, allowing Megatron to acquire a few angry allies.

"We must quickly spread word of this misstep of Prime's. The moment the rest of the world hears of this, the worse the tension for all concerned." He split them up into groups with each tape bearing a copy of Buzzsaw's findings to various countries. "Negotiate extra energon as well!" he called, barely containing his glee. The Autobots would be sorry they stepped into the ring to try to topple him.

Wheeljack worked for two days to custom-fit every Autobot with roller-skates. He was pleased with the results.

"Skates don't blow up," Ratchet reminded him as Bumblebee, arms waving in a fruitless attempt to catch himself, fell face-down. He crashed onto the hard cement basketball court they had turned into an impromptu skating rink.

"Medic!" he cried. Ratchet heaved a sigh and glided over to help him back up and check for dents.

"You've gotta LEAN onto the right skate and PUSH with the left," he suggested. His pupil huffed in frustration.

"I'm working on it!"

Spike sailed by with Carly, together pushing Chip. They were there to talk to Blaster about the arrangements for the charity and thought it would be fun to see how the practice was going.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe enjoyed figuring out this new way to move. It wasn't bad. Jazz lead the way for more adventurous tricks like skating backwards or squatting and quickly standing back up or spinning like an ice skater. Bluestreak had a little bit of trouble adjusting.

Optimus Prime had the most fun of all of them. The minute the skates were on his feet he stood up and achieved balance as though he'd been doing this all his life.

"Roll out!" he called, gliding across the basketball court gracefully. Half of his army fell on their faces/knees/backs in response. (Warpath was stuck on his barrel, vocalizer exploding with Cybertronian swear words not yet heard by Spike.)

Perceptor had the worst of it; Grapple had put up a temporary training bar for anyone who needed it, and the microscope needed it. He could NOT get the hang of the mechanics, to his mortification. When he finally felt confident enough to wobble on his own the Twins held hands and allowed their arms to send him reeling onto his back.

"Clothesline!" they called.

"Get away from me!" he yelled back, seeing them coming and powerless to stop them, even as he scrambled to get back to the bar. WHAM! The impact had him on his skidplate, palms scratched from trying to ease the descent onto the pavement.

"MEDIC!" they howled gleefully. Perceptor crawled back to the bar and tried again, using the nearby swearing Warpath to aid him.

"You have TREADS! Why are you skating?" Tracks couldn't help but query as he glared at Perceptor for not coming to the tank's aid.

"I wanted to BOOM! Try it out! WOWIE! It sure is hard!" He stood up straight, dusting himself. "Thanks!"

After he'd been helped up, Warpath grabbed a hold of Cosmos and refused to let go, to the Autobot's delight. Tracks smiled wryly, as he drifted off kilter, unaware of his leader encroaching from behind.

"He is having cerebral surgery tomorrow," Optimus announced in a low voice.

Tracks' grin fell to sarcastic levels. "That bad?"

"Worse. I have placed you and Blaster on the top of the list of those allowed leave for New York, with a permission to release you immediately once the family has contacted us."

Relief and gratitude flooded the Corvette as he stumbled over a fallen Bumblebee. "Thank you, Prime!" he called, watching his leader glide away.

Megatron's Decepticons came back sooner than expected, with bad news.

"They tried to shoot me out of the sky," Thundercracker complained. "Iran, Israel, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq are out."

"So's Pakistan," grumbled Skywarp. "They wanted me to convert to Islam before we could talk. So I said I was. Then they heard what the U.S. was doing and decided they could use us in their army if we did whatever they said. I told 'em Megatron doesn't operate under ANYBODY. So they sent me out. So I told burned the place to the ground."

"Maybe you should go pray for forgiveness," Starscream sneered.

Megatron broke that up in time for more ill tidings.

"The African countries are in the middle of civil wars and mass genocides. Nobody would admit they were leading, let alone talk to us," the Constructicons reported, riddled with bullet nicks. Human firearms didn't hurt, but they scratched paint jobs.

"China and India declared that they had to discuss it before a committee, which means no. North Korea doesn't trust you after they heard what you did to Shawn Berger."

"I don't blame them. I don't trust you either."

"Spare me your editorials!" This was going from bad to worse. Surely SOME enemy of the rest of the world had sense in their brains!

"The Philippines are trying to establish better trade relations with the U.S. They told us to beat it." Half of the Combaticons were not happy with their chore.

"The Insecticons were a bad choice for Southeast Asia, mighty Megatron. No country has forgiven prior invasions, especially Bali."

Megatron sank onto his throne. He hated humans. He hated Starscream more. May be the Seeker should be stuck in a rocket to the sun with the humans and a camera. That would be an entertaining afternoon.

"We have acquired an ally," Soundwave intoned as he marched in with Vortex and Swindle. All three had armfuls of energon cubes.

Megatron sat up and took notice. "Report!"

"The Republic of Karbombia has recently been through yet another coupe d'etate," Vortex explained. "We discussed the matter with their newest Dictator, a loud-spoken fellow. He is interested in an alliance of convenience and presents us with these energon cubes as a gesture of goodwill."

"How many did you skim for yourself?" he demanded as Starscream opened his mouth. He closed it.

Swindle reluctantly pulled three more from subspace.

Autobot life was not all play. Optimus Prime had volunteered his clever scientists to aid the United Nations in a new farming method to end starvation. It had some weird acronym which meant 'war on world hunger' in one of the human languages that blurred together in Sideswipe's processor into Cybertronian no matter the dialect.

Sideswipe was stuck on patrol with Powerglide, who lately had decided all of the female human attention he'd been getting over the years was a high appraisal and therefore made him in the same league as Sideswipe, which was laughable on a good day.

"So you ride those jets, huh?" he asked playfully as they traveled outside in the blazing sun looking for Decepticons. For some reason the U.N. was doing its research in an Air Force base in Arizona.

"Jet judo? Yeah."

"Do you like it?" If he asked Siders if he wanted to try to ride something else he'd fraggin' POUND him. They had been out for three days, Sideswipe had not gotten a decent recharge in forever, and the threesome with Jazz was not being taken seriously. Prowl had informed Jazz (in that disapproving tone he used when the Porsche was breaking protocol) that most of the Autobots assumed it was a stunt of some kind, or a challenge. Powerglide acted like he fell into the latter of the two groups.

"It was okay."

"OKAY? C'mon! Flyin's the greatest thing ever! I'll show you. Jump on my back!"

"NO." They had two more days. Sideswipe was going to KILL him.

"It'll be fun!"

"Fun is kicking Decepticon tail, not riding on you like-" he was so tired he couldn't think of anything insulting. Besides, Powerglide was more than eager to demonstrate how cool flying was, not how insulting Sideswipe could be.

"WHOOOO!" the glider called as he accomplished Blue Devil material in complicated loops, spins, barrel-rolls and other showy-offy things that interested Sideswipe about as much as Perceptor's scientific theses did. (Bad comparison.)

"It looks like fun," Sideswipe admitted, if only to get Powerglide to start talking about himself more, thus allowing the Lamborghini to tune him out.

"It's a blast! You should see me when I'm going against the wind…" He babbled for another hour and a half before it occurred to him that his audience was more of a figment of his imagination than his supposed heroics.

They furtively gathered right under Megatron's nose: the room next to his chamber, where Motormaster, to his rage, discovered that his last aborted liaison did not excuse him from his monthly duty.

"When are we gonna strike?" he thundered. He could be heard by Megatron, no doubt.

"We need more time," Hook replied wearily.

"Yeah! He's in the middle of something."

"That's the best time to strike!"

"NO!" They all yelled back.

"It's the best time to set everything up, but not to strike!" Motormaster was dumber than an Autobot! "You remember what happened to Starscream after Nightbird?"

Motormaster glared at Rumble. "I wasn't here."

Frenzy stepped in, crossing his arms aggressively. "He soldered him to the floor and let us walk on him for a cycle."

Motormaster decided that it would be intelligent to arrive early for his 'meeting,' and that he'd see them later.

Blitzwing turned to his fellow Decepticons. "He's right, though. We have to wait for the right time. It shouldn't be too long from now."

"Yeah, but what happens if Megatron finds out and kills us? All he has to do is tell Shockwave to send another batch of warriors," Thundercracker objected.

Ramjet suggested they implant an override device into the communications board first, when Megatron was 'busy.'

"Busy how? Oh." Dirge didn't like that. "Which one of us distracts him?"

"I have him tomorrow night. What if I took TC with me, since he's into that?" Skywarp and Thundercracker didn't care about the three-way business but when considering the catalyst to this cloak and dagger business, anyone forced to get it on with a cassette deserved justice, even if the victim was Starscream. Megatron might get it into his database to force one of them to do it with an Autobot next time, or worse, if this habitual indulgence perpetuated.

"Why don't we go now, while Megatron's with Motormaster?"

Why not?

"Okay, so we do that, then later Ramjet wrecks the commlink, then what? We all run away?"

"We could make a run for the spacebridge," Blitzwing began. "When we get to Cybertron, we could destroy it-"

"And leave him here with the ground-pounders!" finished Skywarp gleefully.

"And Starscream!" cried Astrotrain, not believing how well this was working out.

"Should we take Soundwave?" asked Thrust. Silence.

"NAH!" they all cried after a moment.

"So then what? We show up and kill Shockwave, there will be such a rush for a new leader, there's no way Megatron would find someone to bring him back…this could work."

Thundercracker regarded him suspiciously. "How long have you been planning this?"

Since the day he was created. "Plan what? I'm a quick thinker."

Blitzwing led the group in another communal laugh. Astrotrain let them do it for awhile, vowing that things would change soon.

"There's still a few other things we need to figure out…"

Work work work work work!!!!! Sunstreaker leaned against the doorway as though his entire existence depended on it. This volunteer project was a waste of time. Humans liked to fight, and only compromised and worked together when there was something in it for them. Disgusting. Because of them his patrol shifts were twice as long as they should be. He was getting dust all over his beautiful body.

"Hey, Sunstreaker," greeted a cheerful voice.

"Hi, Trailbreaker." He was glad to see his replacement.

"How is it out there?"

Sunny stopped to look at the blank scenery surrounding the truck. "Boring."

Trailbreaker had an easily humored smile. "Blaster called a rehearsal."

Since when did they need to rehearse roller-skating? The Autobots either could do it or they didn't.

"He was thinking about doing some tricks."

Whatever. Sunny had to 'report' to Jazz.

So far they were doing everything right. Rumble and Frenzy were distracting their master with their 'discovery' of proof of Starscream's latest attempt to usurp. Hook and Thundercracker were struggling with the heavy equipment the communications device utilized while the others did what they did best: criticized.

"How are we going to do to get into the base's computer without the logs telling Megatron what we're doing?" growled Scrapper as the door slid open to reveal an unexpected arrival.

"Yeah," demanded Motormaster, who should have been shrieking like a little Autobot under their leader, not crossing his arms and scowling.

"Why aren't you with Megatron?" Blitzwing demanded, panicking.

The Stunticon shrugged. "Dunno. He finished early."

"But this means he's somewhere else besides his room!" Bonecrusher exclaimed.

Longhaul finished the thought. "He could be spying on us!"

"Scatter!" called Hook.

And they did.

Megatron did not know what was going on outside of his chambers. All he was aware of was how he couldn't get back into any of his Decepticon's processors.

It had been a nagging issue for a long time, making itself a clear threat this morning when Starscream had taunted him over it. They had been fighting for domination on the floor, Starscream proving, as stated after their encounter with Frenzy, that his technique for fighting was just as horrendous as his other proficiencies.

"You wouldn't know how to interface with a three-pronged plug!" Megatron roared, shoving the Seeker off of him.

"Why don't you break into my processor and show me what I'm doing wrong, LEADER?"

He couldn't do it. Starscream faced him, meters away and smirking, but Megatron had no ability to enter his mind.

"I'm waiting," he sang, deliberately goading him.

"You're trying my patience again!"

"But I didn't say anything, mighty Megatron."

Megatron gasped. He hadn't realized that Starscream was talking to him INSIDE of his processor.

"Get out," he snarled, fingers curling around the dark gray throat. "Never do that again." Starscream dashed out, fearing any more interference.

This was a problem. Megatron could not figure out HOW this mech had gotten into him, and seemed to be gaining access as time marched forward. He should have scrapped him when he had the chance, but on the other hand, if he found a way to tap into mechs the same way as his former Air Commander, he could use it to tap into Prime and complete the Autobots' annihilation, but he'd better do it quick, before Starscream sensed this plan and executed it first.

His underlings were yelling loud enough to awaken Vector Sigma, but none of it registered.

After about an hour it was apparent to Astrotrain that Megatron was not coming out anytime soon. He grilled Motormaster about what had happened, to no avail, because there was 'no way on Cybertron' he could recall everything that happened in their leader's quarters.

"We must postpone our plans until a better time!" he hissed.

"What! I don't want to do what he wants to do anymore!" Dirge protested furiously.

"You want him to find out what we're doing instead?" Longhaul demanded. The Constructicons were the only mechs who grasped the jeopardy of their situation. "If we need another week, we need another week!"

Starscream, the newest messenger-mech since his demotion, chose that moment to stomp in. "We have a new plan! Prepare for a briefing in 20 astro-minutes!" He shrewdly glanced at the huddled mass of Decepticons. "What are you all standing around for?"

"Frenzy told us about your lousy technique," Skywarp jeered, taking a blind shot in the dark. To his relief, it worked. Starscream slammed the common room door behind him.

"HEY!"

Sideswipe stopped daydreaming before he – well – sideswiped a truck. He realigned himself and swerved out of the way, transforming quickly to give a very human gesture.

"What's wrong with you?" Powerglide demanded. "I've been yelling at you forever!"

"Uh-huh," Sideswipe muttered, still not listening. The last thought in his processor echoed like a scream in Mammoth Cave.

Powerglide landed gracelessly and began to tap his cohort's shoulder. "Primus! DEFRAG!!"

"I'm okay! GET OFF OF ME!" Sideswipe cried, yanking himself out of the reverie that had almost killed him. Powerglide backed away, palms up to placate his coworker.

"Cool your jets, Siders! Hehe. Cool your jets. Get it?"

"Hey, Launchpad McQuack. Call me Siders again and I'll rearrange you into an origami swan." He showed that he meant it by making a fist and stomping over, eddies of sand swirling around his feet.

Powerglide dodged a few punches and quickly took off before Sideswipe could do any major damage. Ribbing him was so much fun. "You've gotta catch me first!" he called jubilantly.

Sideswipe forgot his earlier promise and ably landed on top of the glider, clenching him tightly in his arms. "I caught ya!"

Powerglide tried not to crow. "Hold on! Those D's ain't got slag on MY flyin'!"

He wasn't bad. Better than Dirge, but not as good as Skywarp. Sideswipe had a good ride until Prowl radioed them to come in for a recharge.

Dictator-for-life of Karbombia, former general, and all-in-all pain in the tailpipe Abdul Fakkadi strode into the Decepticon/government mutual meeting place on a small island off the coast of Madagascar and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight of Megatron.

"I thought you would be taller," he snorted disdainfully.

Megatron mentally noted in his head to kill this one slowly when he was finished with him. "President Fakkadi, as you are aware –"

"Infidel!" cried one of his soldiers. "In our country we do not so rudely plunge into business without exchanging honorable pleasantries!"

Soundwave hovered over the minor player with his tapes surrounding him and gave a vile stare. "Cybertron does not."

Uneasy, Fakkadi's minions apprehensively glanced at their leader, who nodded curtly. "This is acceptable under the circumstances."

Megatron turned to Starscream, who was not bothering to stifle his laughter. Still snickering, the jet pressed a few buttons to show Buzzsaw's shots of the super-secret structure out in Tucson, Arizona. "As you are aware -" he began, glaring at the inferior officer, daring him to interrupt. "-the leading world organizations have joined together to concoct a new weapon. We will procure it."

"What we're trying to do is to get you to dribble the ball, pass and shoot."

"ME GRIMLOCK ALREADY KNOW THAT!"

Tracks exchanged glances with Blaster. Practice had just started.

"Yes, but can you do it while skating?" Tracks threw the ball at Swoop, who slipped, skidded, and fell onto the floor. "Exactly. I want you all to take a couple of laps around the parking lot just holding the ball."

After only one lap Sunstreaker was dribbling. After two laps he was passing the ball between his legs as he rolled. After three laps Tracks had to pull Perceptor out of Sunstreaker's way to avoid the scientist getting yet another basketball bounced off of his head.

"I know how to skate and I know how to play. Can I go now?"

Grimlock was trying to spin the ball on his finger and failing. Bluestreak constantly double-dribbled. Warpath rolled on his treads, happy that he hadn't been disqualified. Gears yelled that he wasn't playing and that he quit. Blaster decided that they were ready for scrimmage.

"Dinobots and whiners versus everybody else!" he called. Perceptor and Gears moaned.

Snarl had the ball. He faked left with too much momentum and managed to regain his balance by losing the ball to Skids, who passed to Perceptor by accident. Perceptor fell on his back. Bluestreak recovered the ball but couldn't do anything but travel with it. Blaster debated blowing the whistle and decided to do it. Sludge shot it from half-court, missing by about six feet. Bounce bounce bounce bounce roll. Red Alert complained that they spent more time going after the ball than playing. Blaster threatened to put him on the other team. Sunstreaker had it, dribbled left, passed to Skids, rolled around Gears easily, and caught it in time to slam dunk it.

"Awww yeah!" Blaster called jubilantly. "Put him on first string," he told Tracks, who was holding a datapad and noting ability.

"So far we have Sunstreaker on first string…and everybody else is a cheerleader."

Blaster snorted as half of team DinoWhiner ended up in a tangle after a disastrous tipoff. "They'd make a good pyramid."

Trailbreaker had the ball but it kept bouncing off his feet. Bumblebee timidly dribbled with his left hand and inched down the court with a great deal of caution, ignoring the obviously open Bluestreak. Sunstreaker was blocked by Slag and Snarl. Somehow he caught Bumblebee's wild toss but even he knew the Dinobots might conveniently forget which game they were playing. He was tackled the last time he played tennis with them.

"Blue! Help me out! I can't take both of 'em at the same time! Blue! BLUE!" What was he doing?

Bluestreak had fallen because he WAS tackled by Grimlock. Frustrated, he lifted his head and yelled back, "I thought you LIKED two on you!"

"What?" he asked as Slag yanked the ball out of his hands and did another wild three-pointer. He might have made the shot if Prowl's windshield were the basket.

Laughter died quickly. Prowl, arms crossed and optics blazing, calmly asked why Skids and Trailbreaker were not on patrol, and why Perceptor's five minute break had lasted an hour and a half, and from whom had they received permission to clear an entire Air Force base parking lot? Where were the cars?

Blaster chuckled nervously. "We needed a practice, so I Shanghaied a few mechs and Tracks had the Dinobots-"

"-move the cars." Prowl gestured to the smoldering pile of sedans and SUVs. "You have just cost us a great deal of goodwill from our hosts and over a million dollars' worth of damage."

"I'm sure Triple A doesn't have a 'Dinobot' clause," Tracks replied flippantly.

Prowl's calm face twisted. "Get inside," he snarled, pointing to the airplane hanger that functioned as their impromptu headquarters. "The rest of you - at least those of you who are NOT breaking regulation - return to the Ark."

Autobots transformed and drove away, scattering like leaves.

"Blue!" Sunstreaker hurried to catch up to the Datsun. "What did you mean by that?"

Bluestreak huffed. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" He doubted it. But he wasn't one to talk about feelings, so he took Blue's word.

The sniper remained relatively silent for the rest of the ride, not saying anything but a good-bye before he drove into med bay.

"C'mere!" Sideswipe had just staggered in from another exhausting haul with Powerglide the same time that Sunstreaker had FINALLY escaped the second skating practice from hell to be grabbed – just as they were about to meet each other midway down the corridor – and yanked into a VERY small closet.

"What the SLAG?" growled Sunny, squirming under the surprisingly strong grasp of a cheerful black hand.

Sideswipe couldn't move. Dismayed, he wiggled and grunted. Jazz laughed delightedly.

"Keep it up!" he whispered delightedly, wedging himself in between them as they tried to wrench themselves free from his grip and escape. "Oh baby!" he cried, a little louder than necessary.

"Jazz! Your diodes are scrambled!" Sunny did not like being this close to his brother when he was this dusty. His paint could be scratched. Jazz somehow stood on tiptoe and pressed his face against Sunstreaker.

"Just kiss me."

"Sunny! Get your hand off my skidplate!" Sideswipe shrieked, twisting but having nowhere to go.

"That's not my hand!"

"Is that your leg? Get it off!"

"Yeah, get me off!" Jazz called over the golden mech's retort. His visor glinted deliciously as the other two grunted to get in a position where they could mutually throttle the Porsche but not have to touch the other in an uncomfortable place. Jazz was able to hook his leg around Sunny and grab Sideswipe's arm to fondle his chestplate, humming in contentment.

"You naughty boys! Oh! Yeah! OH!"

BOOM!

Prowl had stopped mid-stride in the hallway to investigate the small clump of Autobots trying to extend their listening devices against the closet door to better hear the commotion going on inside. As soon as he heard Sunstreaker swear and Sideswipe announce that Jazz was 'gonna get it' he overrode the locking code and wrenched the door open to calmly watch a pell-mell conglomeration of red, yellow, black and white tumble to the ground. The others broke into applause and started making their own noises of passion.

"Give it to me, Sunny!" groaned Windcharger, throwing himself against the wall in histrionics.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" screeched a hyper Bumblebee, laughing so hard he had to lean on the hooting Gears.

The twins tried to disengage themselves from the tangle Jazz had somehow wound them into but there were too many gawkers in the way. The mech who had started it all was a little taken aback: his trick had attracted the wrong mech's attention.

Jazz smiled sheepishly. "Hi Prowl."

Prowl did not smile back. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, you are denied leave for twenty-four hours. Go recharge." He pointed with his left hand to the end of the corridor. "Jazz: my office. Five minutes. The rest of you-" The rest of them were gone; spreading the word, no doubt. Prowl averted his gaze from the threesome on the ground untangling themselves by left-facing and marching down the hall to meet Jazz at his office.

The most important cog in their revolution was not interested. The Combaticons, the only ones not afraid of Megatron OR Starscream, the ones who should be the most eager to revolt, were unconcerned. Nothing anyone said made any difference. Astrotrain huffed air out of his intakes, frustrated. They were stalled in the air, what with the Constructicons getting their desired time off and Megatron wrapped up in his alliance with a human (another mark against him, but still the Combaticons did not waver) and the Seekers and Motormaster losing what little patience they had. If they did not have the full cooperation of every Dececpticon, they might leave enough behind to enable Meagtron's vengence. This was getting tougher to keep together as time progressed. He needed a backup plan.

Jazz slunk into their room with that same guilty grin he'd used earlier. It had the same effect.

"What the FRAG were you processing?" Sunstreaker demanded.

"Shh," Sideswipe retorted. "You are so slow sometimes. He did it to get attention." Even when half daydreaming while watching porn, Sideswipe was smarter than his brother. "What did Prowl say?"

Jazz looked slightly upset about this. "He said something weird. He told me he was disappointed that I didn't respect my station enough to keep you guys out of trouble, and how we were all working hard and I was just playing with you, and that he had expected better from me-"

"Wow. I usually tune him out when he starts talking. So that's what he says to us." Sideswipe swung his legs over the edge of the recharge plate to stand up. He was ready to get some energon, since they couldn't go out.

"He doesn't say that to you. I've heard him. He yells at you long enough to prove to Prime that he yells at you. Prowl ain't dumb. He knows you'll do whatever you want and as long as you're not hurting anyone your punishment'll fit the crime and he'll yell." The visor darkened a little. "He meant what he said to me."

"No he didn't. He says whatever will work. Like you said, he doesn't say anything he expects us to hear. He said what would bug you. Come on. Let's get something to drink."

Backup plans were unnecessary, even though there was no change in Astrotrain's directive, except that his spying on Starscream had been noticed.

"Leave me alone!" Starscream shrieked, throwing Blo-Pops at the triple-changer by the handful. "Go play with Blitzwing!"

So now Astrotrain had to think of another way to surreptitiously gain information. He wandered into the main control room, after checking to make sure any one who would punish him wasn't there. It was only Rumble, monitoring Buzzsaw's latest spy mission.

"Jazz, I need to speak with you," Optimus Prime announced in the meeting room.

"Have they talked about the U.N. project?" Astrotrain asked.

"Nah," Rumble replied, not to be helpful but because he was so bored he hoped a conversation would make things more interesting. Maybe it would lead to a fight. "They've been talking about that roller-skating show the whole time."

Astrotrain decided not to ask.

"Blaster and Tracks might leave before we are able to accomplish our mission, leaving a void in our programming. They have requested another Autobot render aid. I thought-"

"-I'd be a good fit? Nah, Prime, Blaster's got it going on. I'd be an anchor." Jazz smiled sweetly. "Besides, I thought you needed me to run the behind-the-scenes for that U.N. gig?"

"Affirmative," Prime replied uneasily. He had hoped to get Jazz in there to control Blaster and Tracks' rampant over-planning. Besides the actual game Blaster wanted them to do tricks, have a race, an "Auto-graph" session, a private after-party, programs, T-shirts, a soundtrack by En Vogue, celebrity photograph sessions, a documentary filmed at the same time, and an encore session the next night to repeat what they'd done Saturday. They were over-budget and had accomplished nothing so far and the deadline was fast approaching. They needed a leader.

"I'm sorry Prime, but my plate's full," he gave a bawdy look for the double entendre, which startled his leader enough to allow him a graceful conversational escape. "Maybe Prowl would like to give 'em a hand."

Prowl would rather boot the whole project, and said as much. Ironhide wasn't doing anything this week. Ironhide tartly replied that he'd rather be shot in the face by Starscream's null ray than spend a week hollering at Blaster, who would promptly turn around and do whatever he pleased. Why did they need a pinch planner, anyway? Prime wouldn't tell.

No one volunteered. Heaving a sigh, Optimus declared that he didn't want to, but must: he ordered Jazz to help Blaster with the planning. The saboteur graciously agreed and the meeting broke up. Rumble radioed Soundwave.

"Two weeks from Saturday the Autobots will be busy," he reported eagerly. "They're leavin' the Arizona base unguarded."

"Perfect!" exclaimed a delighted Megatron, who had come into the control room during this exchange. "Notify that Karbombian worm and assemble the other Decepticons." He noticed Astrotrain at that moment. "Report your purpose."

He bowed and thought fast. "I wanted to ask your permission-" he lowered his voice and dropped his head humbly. "-Rumble has requested I take his place tonight at your side. May I?"

Megatron considered this. He wasn't in the mood for anything at all, but Astrotrain was more discreet about these issues. "Affirmative. Dismissed." Rumble hid a dismayed expression, wondering what favor he'd have to perform later to make up for this. He hoped it wouldn't be anything distasteful.

Sideswipe snickered to himself over some nasty thought that raced past his processor and tickled his sense of amusement.

Jazz looked up from selecting from their latest acquisitions: "Cheerleader Sluts doing Power Rangers" or "Robin Hooker: Princess of Tease." He tossed them aside.

"You know what, man? This is stupid. Let's have a party."

"It's not stupid!" Sideswipe rolled to face the other side while Sunstreaker grunted.

"If you want to," the golden warrior growled, which was Sunnyspeak for 'pitt, yeah!' He was more of a host than Sideswipe, who liked to go out and get his action. Jazz radioed everyone in the Ark and set up the room, with Sunny's help. Sideswipe didn't feel like it. When the guests started coming in he made some lame excuse and disappeared, ostensibly to find another screwdriver.

"He's dragging me down," Jazz complained to the always welcome Wheeljack.

"Leave 'em alone. He's fine. In fact, leave ME alone. I need another drink!" Wheeljack was over-energized and getting worse. Sunstreaker was joking around with Trailbreaker. Blaster chose that moment to come up to Jazz.

"I hear you're in charge of me and Tracks."

Jazz held his drink up in a friendly salute. "You won't even know I'm there."

"Good." His optics scanned the room for a moment until they rested on Tracks, who was looking worse for wear. "Just keep your headlights out of my optics and we'll be smooth."

"Yeah," Jazz responded, turning away. He was not looking forward to this.

Prowl received a phone call at three in the morning. The surgery had been a success and the hemorrhaging had stopped. The patient was still unconscious. Prowl politely thanked Raul's wife and relayed the message at the Twins'. Tracks let out a whoop and invited Prime's second-in-command down for a drink, which was refused.

"I would like to speak to Jazz, if it's possible."

There was a pause as they searched around the room, calling for him. "Jazz? Jazz? Jazz? Nope, sorry Prowl. He's gone. So's our hosts, if you get my meaning."

"Prowl out," he snapped.

Tracks turned back to the joyous room. "He's gonna be okay!" he cried.

"This calls for a toast!" suggested Trailbreaker. "To Raul!"

"To the death of Laserbeak!" the Corvette countered. Everyone roared in appreciation before partaking.

Several wings. Tens of floors. Hundreds of corridors. Thousands of rooms. Which one was Megatron's this week?

Astrotrain wandered the area with worry increasing at each wrong turn. Megatron moved his recharge station at random intervals to keep both his allies and enemies from detecting his resting place, but it was difficult for the average Decepticon to perform his duty when he had to solve the clues first. Was it left right Wing A floor B? Or left right left right Wing A to Wing B to Floor A to Floor B? There WAS a difference.

"You are LATE!" Megatron greeted him when, finally, Astrotrain entered.

"I am sorry, mighty one," he groveled, on his knees and hating every minute of it. "You are so clever that I could not find you."

Megatron laughed until he could not make his victim any more uncomfortable. "You are lying." He was standing and sweeping the triple-changer into his arms, staring into his optics with every intent to terrify. "I know what you've been planning."

"What I've been planning? Whatever do you mean?" The plan was OVER and he was SCRAP if he didn't mislead this mech and FAST. Megatron tossed him aside.

"Rumble already told me. Do you really believe that by taking more turns with me that I will promote you to Air Commander?"

"That pipsqueak!" he cried involuntarily. He'd been unnecessarily frightened because of that tape.

Megatron's optics glowed. So it was true. Well, then he would make Astrotrain earn his position. "Come here." A sound beating would make a good start. Then the fun could begin. "Hold still," he commanded, fist impacting the Decepticon before he could brace himself.

"Thank you, Megatron," he groaned. He had expected this, and knew what to say. "It is an honor. May I have another?"

"As many as you desire," he cackled, just getting warmed up. Maybe he was in the mood tonight.

While their leader was otherwise engaged, Rumble had Soundwave distracted by repairing minor damage to Ravage incurred due to a small scuffle between him and the other tapes. As they did that, Hook and Thundercracker disappeared and went back to modifying the communications device as Blitzwing paced the outside of the lab, waiting for Starscream to come out.

"Do you think he's using us?" Thundercracker asked in a low voice.

Hook took a minute to switch tools before he answered. "Who? I thought I was the one motivating this operation."

And Thundercracker felt like he was, but for some reason his processor nagged at him that this felt more like a triple-changer scheme than anything else, but Thundercracker had yet to prove it. Sure, Astrotrain had said some things in the beginning, and Blitzwing had been muttering some slag about how Megatron may have no known weaknesses but he sure had a lot of character flaws, but it seemed that every time they had a meeting Thundercracker did all the talking. Now he heard Hook stating the exact opposite. Blitzwing had said nothing to them out of the ordinary, and Astrotrain had not asked any questions Hook hadn't already mused-in private, however-thus there was no real feeling of being lead. The mere suggestion had been implanted somehow, whether or not they had all considered it. They were also dragging their feet too much and running out of time. They needed to band together quickly, or this would blow up in everybody's face.

Prowl slowly sipped his energon and waited. He didn't think it would be that long before Tracks showed up, no doubt with Blaster in tow, and more than likely the two would be so upset over Jazz's 'interference' that they'd not listen to him until they wanted to. Jazz had lingered in the commissary for an extra twenty minutes before finally sitting down with Prowl to inform the Datsun that he would not be able to aid Blaster and Tracks in their charity plans because there were too many personal and professional clashes.

"You suggested a few ideas in your usual diplomatic way and Blaster took it as an insult."

Jazz laughed. "You could always see the forest." This earth saying had been used before. "Even where there are too many trees."

The scenario was easy to piece together: Jazz kept his promise to both Prime and the tape player and stayed out of the way during the brain-storming session of what they would do with whatever they hadn't already bought but when he spelled out to Blaster that celebrity appearances were out of the question, not to mention the budget, his committee reacted noisily. They KNEW that Jazz had connections and could EASILY assemble a few well-known humans. Jazz said although that was true, Prime was concerned that there wasn't enough concentration on the main focus of the Autobot mission. It was the U.N. project, not whether or not Jazz could convince Brad Pitt and Madonna to drop everything and come watch them roller skate. They were annoyed with him and his suggestions that there had to be a LOT more cutbacks if they were make their one-week deadline. Had they notified the press? The makers of Rollerblade? Advertised? Sold any tickets? Gotten a hold of the people who OWNED the building they wanted to rent? The answers were all negative. Jazz then had to decide whether to embarrass the one who dumped him by either doing nothing or doing a LOT. He chose the latter. He called the PhoenixSun Times and the local radio stations after he'd talked to the arena owners and convinced them to rent the almost-complete America West Stadium, but at a much higher rate than planned, thanks to last-minute convincing to open the rink before it was ready (since they didn't NEED the private suites, lower bowl or the locker rooms furnished). Once that miracle had been performed and the proper Public Relations were notified, Ticketmaster agreed to handle the box office portion (again, at a higher rate than expected thanks to this being the last-minute). He decided that the hard part was done and sat back to let Blaster and Tracks coordinate activities. Tracks coolly informed Jazz that his services were no longer needed. Since they had been the ones who'd asked Prime to find them help, they had no qualms dismissing the assistance they no longer needed. Jazz wished them luck and glided out the door before running to the lab and unloading his frustrations on Wheeljack. The Lancia calmed him down and reminded him to report to Prowl before Blaster beat him to it.

Prowl wanted to reinstate Jazz to the project and was asked to consider the repercussions. More than likely, now that the human-oriented portion was finished, Blaster and Tracks would complete their work in a safe, timely manner, but they would not be pleasant unless another means of regulation were used; however, Jazz assured Prowl that he didn't care, and that he was glad to help in any way he could. Prowl informed him that he would manage the two henceforth and for Jazz not to tax himself over it. The saboteur, delighted, offered to take over Prowl's discipline schedule, which would have segued into his behavior as of late with two certain individuals if Blaster and Tracks hadn't walked in and at the sight of Jazz crossed their arms impatiently. Prowl recommended the tete a tete reconvene later.

"What's he been telling you?" Tracks demanded, once he'd been invited to sit down.

"He informed me that you relieved him of his charge to render supervision," Prowl replied evenly. "You do not have that particular authority. I have, and I did, at his request. From this period forward you have a new administrator."

Tracks nodded. "He did not give any ideas and then he told us we were doing every thing wrong."

Obviously the two did not know how laborious the task they had planned would be, and were relieved to have a scapegoat. "Are you annoyed that he did not volunteer ideas or that he did? Your complaint is contradictory."

Tracks glanced at Blaster, who supplied the explanation that Jazz didn't have any GOOD ideas.

"What were his ideas?" He listened patiently as the two vocally overlapped each other in their need to complain. "These were the very issues Prime and I ordered him to address as your team leader. Had another been there to oversee, he would have made the very same suggestions. You also stated more than once that you are upset that in two hours he was able to accomplish what you could not in two months."

"Ah-"

He held up his hand. "I do not want to hear excuses as to why this upset you," he interrupted. "Organizing this benefit was something that you had promised Prime necessitated no official interference but as far as I have seen has done nothing but interfere, from distracting Autobots with practices to your petition for more money to the complete lack of a feasible schedule. My first impulse was to cancel the entire ordeal, but my forbearer dissuaded me. Show me your plans and we will have a timeline before the end of the day."

Blaster began to regret getting rid of Jazz so quickly. By sundown he REALLY regretted it. Prowl decimated their project and micromanaged their plans down to the last tenth of an astro-second. For the next week, Blaster and Tracks knew where they would be and what they would be doing at ANY time of day.

"I have another issue to address," Prowl began, tired and annoyed that he had to oversee this project when he had opposed it from the beginning. "We received word from Raul's family that he is going in for surgery again next week due to another complication . It is for reconstruction of one of his lungs, which is on the verge of collapsing."

"Oh Primus," Tracks moaned, dropping his datapad.

"I have been notified that his chances of survival are not high."

Blaster glared. "Man, they were right about you!"

Prowl ignored him. "You are still first to be granted leave should your presences be required." He stood up and walked away from the grieving Tracks and the consoling Blaster and sighed to himself.

"Limp limp limp! Who beat you up?"

Mixmaster was funny. SOOOOOO funny. Astrotrain decided not to address that particular matter. "Did they do it?"

"Yyyyyeah! We'll be ready in no time!"

Astrotrain exhaled in relief. So they were getting somewhere. Too bad he wasn't. Their leader had pounded him into a new alternate mode, cackling the whole time. This HAD to work. He couldn't stand another moment of intimate subservience.

Jazz had promised that 'things'll get interesting' as their time in a three-way relationship progressed. If you counted Blustreak's hurt feelings that had to be soothed, Powerglide's new obsession with Sideswipe, and Gears asking if he could watch, then YEAH, but neither twin was willing to label these as 'interesting.'

Ratchet patched Sideswipe up after one unsuccessful Ravage hunt ended when they'd run into Menasor. "So are you having fun being Jazz's toy?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "It's okay."

The medic's optics sparkled a little. "I didn't know you liked it a little weird, or I would've invited you to hang out with me a long time ago."

He must not have his audios turned on the whole way. "What?"

Ratchet's sparkle died the minute he realized what he'd said. "Nothing. Get off my table, will you? I have other patients, like one of your rejects who scratched his paint."

Perceptor crept over to the table once he was sure Sideswipe wasn't within striking distance and bore Ratchet's teasing as best he could, which was difficult when one's entire plating had been wiped out in some places and Ratchet wasn't too gentle with him.

"I TOLD you to change that lock code. Lean on Red Alert a little harder." He chuckled at Red Alert's refusal to help. "You had it coming."

Perceptor doubted that anyone quietly working to intensify the potency of Prowl's acid pellet gun –as ordered- who accidentally fell asleep 'had it coming.' He awoke in agony. The twins were still persecuting him. Would it ever end?

"No."

"Come on!"

Still Thundercracker refused to believe the truth: that this whole uprising had been Frenzy's idea. He wanted credit for his brilliance.

"Pipsqueak, you couldn't lead ant-droids to a picnic! It was MY idea!"

Skywarp raised his head from the huddle, disappeared, and returned through the door with an indignant Ravage. He made growling noises to indicate that he would tell Soundwave EVERYTHING in a moment's notice, if the tape player hadn't overheard it already.

"What'll we do with him?" Frenzy asked in a panicked voice. Frenzy and Rumble had figured out a way to block Soundwave from their most intimate thoughts, but Ravage communicated ONLY through telepathy.

"You're the leader. Figure it out," Thundercracker sneered.

Ravage let some more growls and hisses. Frenzy's visor widened.

"He says he'll keep it quiet if he can spend the night with Skywarp." Five heads swiveled up to their incredulous target, who told them that he'd do it when Autobots flew out of his exhaust pipes. "He just wants to cuddle!"

"Oh Primus." Skywarp had been reluctant to follow through on this scrapwish as it was, doing it only for Thundercracker, but THIS…this was ridiculous. They wanted him to cuddle with a kitty.

"You can have my energon."

"It'll take more than that," Skywarp replied.

"It's only for one night."

"NO!"

Ravage wiggled hard enough to wrest himself from the grasp the jet had on him and took off. Skywarp saw Thundercracker stare in shock and he realized he didn't really want his friend to suffer. He warped in front of the cat and placed a weary hand on him.

"I thought you wanted to cuddle," he reminded him, scooping the cat up and carrying him off. Frenzy smiled in relief.

It was weird. How does one sleep with a cassette? Ravage circled the purple and black body four times before nestling in the crook of Skywarp's left arm, red optics glinting as his vocalizer throbbed.

"Purrrrrrrrrr," Ravage announced.

"I ain't touching you," the Seeker snarled.

Ravage stood up and crawled around some more. He finally stood on the mech's chestplate, peering down at Skywarp in the dark, nose to nose. Skywarp knocked him into a laying position and the cat got back up and clamped his jaws around Skywarp's neck.

"Augh! Cat!"

"I said 'PURRR'!"

The jet sat up in the dark. "I thought you couldn't talk?"

"Rar?" he asked innocently. Skywarp settled back down, uneasy. This whole set-up made no sense. He was sure, somewhere, a crowd of Decepticons were watching him on a big screen and laughing hysterically.

Ravage gently nosed Skywarp's chin and purred louder. Skywarp reiterated his earlier announcement of vowing not to touch the spy. The cat replied by taking a great deal of throat into his mouth.

"Ow! You stupid cat!"

Ravage hid a grin. Fighting was almost as good as petting. He began to sheath and unsheathe his claws to snag them into the recharge plate's metal; first one set of claws scraping the part of the plate on Skywarp's left, leg lifting up in a curling of feline ecstasy, then the right. Repeat the dance, accelerating as the warm, petite pleasure of stretching the claw and leg cables played together like a glorious symphony. Oh, how he loved doing this! It made him clench his jaw a little tighter in joy, causing Skywarp to realize that sudden movements were a bad idea. Left leg. Right leg. Pull. Purr. He lifted his head a little in a rocking bliss as the dance continued over this strong, handsome mech. He used the back legs to help him pull harder. Oh yeah. Just like that. Purr. It was almost too much. A hand reached out to touch his head and Ravage felt every relay fire in pleasure.

Skywarp's electric field went cold as it was doused. This meant the cat was helpless to stop him from throwing that beast across the room to hit the wall.

"You are one scrambled diode," he snarled. He couldn't complain. He wanted to, but no one would be sympathetic; one did not expect a tiny Decepticon to do such a thing. He'd been too shocked to think of any solution other than waiting for him to finish. "You said 'cuddle,' not 'assault'."

Ravage gave him a look that clearly stated that it didn't matter because he'd gotten what he wanted. He got on all fours and loped over to the plate and rested on the jet's knees, to prevent both kicking and shooting.

Skywarp felt USED. He was sick of it. Any time Thundercracker wanted to take over this revolt was fine with him.

At long last, the big night was here. Blaster held Tracks' hand as they almost danced in relief. Two more hours and they would no longer be under Prowl's tyrannical rule.

"Have you read your scripts?" the Datsun asked Blaster.

"Yeah." Prowl needed to shut up.

"Tracks, why aren't you supervising the light crew?"

The Corvette glared. He was still upset he wouldn't be allowed to parade around with the others. "Because Prime is talking! Shhh!"

Prowl walked away. He was GLAD that this project was almost finished. Optimus had lead them in a moment of appreciation for Prowl, Blaster, and Tracks' hard work before he said what they wanted to hear.

"Autobots: turn off your radios. We're busy tonight."

"YEAH!" they cheered, all but Red Alert making a loud clicking noise. The Protectobots and Omega Supreme were on patrol and Prowl had a back-up roster if things went awry. Nothing would be too difficult for the initial force to handle.

Sunstreaker looked around the makeshift skating rink Blaster had spent so much of his off-time working on. The city of Phoenix wanted to build a better stadium for their basketball team, hoping that this would bring some interest in their area. There was no floor installed when the deal had been made, but somehow Blaster had found the arena construction company willing to lay down something. He had promised tickets, which cut into their profits. Tickets had sold fast. Even now, an hour early, the place was awash with humanity as people shrieked in excitement to see their favorites.

Blaster pretended not to see Jazz escorted in by both Lamborghinis. They had all been warned to keep their appendages to themselves while the humans observed; the more private party came later. Jazz wanted to make a statement by everyone seeing with whom he entered the room.

Right now they had a 'warm up' round, skating out to cue the crowd to sit. Autobots slid around, some still skating worse than others. Bluestreak assumed that this was a race instead of a great moment to show off his moves, thus he crashed with the grace of an inebriated NASCAR pilot. The mechs hurried around in a circle, except for Sunstreaker, who was gliding in the outermost perimeter to gain the most attention.

All for naught. "PROWL!" the girls started screaming. Sunstreaker glared at them. They liked the third most boring Autobot on Cybertron? Humans were poorly programmed, if HE was their idea of attractive. Some of them had shirts with his picture on them, for Primus' sake! Sunny frantically scanned the mob for anyone with a picture of him but all he found were Prowl, Jazz, Prime, and Bumblebee fans. Bumblebee had some very creative signs made in his honor. Nothing for Sunny. He growled in annoyance as Jazz and Sideswipe came from either side, hands interlocked to catch the yellow mech and drag him along at their velocity.

"Hey!" He could hear the chuckles of the humans as other amused Autobots watched Sunny get flung into a tottering Perceptor, knocking both of them down into a heap of indignation. "Watch where you're going, geek!"

"It is more than apparent to anyone with functioning optics and a rudimentary knowledge of physics that you are the offending party, not I!" Perceptor responded-to no one in particular. His comeback came five minutes after the glaring Sunstreaker had departed. He sighed. They were being asked to clear the area for their introduction.

A smoke machine chugged along, spurting enough noxious gray gas to make babies cough. Once it had polluted sufficiently the laser lights came on to the empty rink as Blaster ululated into the microphone.

"Hellooooooo Phoenix!"

He was met with cheers (more than one person screamed for Prowl) as he played 'The Final Countdown.'

"WELCOME to the GREATEST demonstration of skating talent! Coming ALL the way from CYBERTRON: THE AUTOBOTS!"

They screamed some more as Blaster switched to "Rock and Roll Part II."

"Are. You. Ready. For...THE MINIBOTS!" Brawn gave Huffer a little shove to get going and the smaller Autobots took off, skating in tight figure eights that Sunstreaker had seen them practice in the hallways, to everyone's annoyance.

The audience went ballistic. Bumblebee caught a large stuffed bee tossed at him, waving it at the people around him as the minibots bunched up at the end, waiting for the noise to die down as Blaster introduced the next group, setting them up with 'Dr. Feelgood.'

"They're smart. They're big. They're the ones you need when you're hurt. They are…the medics!"

Perceptor fell flat on his back the minute Ratchet accidentally bumped into him, causing a domino effect that got the twins hooting. The sight of those who constantly berated them for their recklessness in a pile was too much.

"MED-IC! MED-IC! MED-IC!" they chanted, the other sports cars catching the joke and joining in. Soon the humans participated.

Perceptor refused to get off the floor, keeping his optics unlit; pretending to be knocked out. The humans didn't know any better. Ratchet allowed the scientist to transform and glide along with them as they jettisoned their original routine and merely slid out, looking stately.

"Classy as ever. Our next group keeps us high in the sky: THE AERIALBOTS!" Teenagers screeched at the sight of their cult favorites flinging each other around to 'Welcome to the Jungle.'

From the back of the line Jazz snorted. "Blaster's music's older than Primus!"

"I think he borrowed Spike's tapes again," Sideswipe agreed. "We'll know if he plays Springsteen."

'Born in the USA' assaulted their ears as the Dinobots skated out holding hands to polite applause.

"Aw, man!" Jazz and Sideswipe had a good laugh at that while the trucks came out – one mech conspicuously missing from the group. Leave it to Prime to want to make a big entrance.

Optimus stuck his head out from behind the door he was hiding. "I missed my cue, Jazz!"

"Nah, Prime, you didn't." Their leader protested that the trucks had been called, he should have gone out there with them.

"Blaster wants you to go out on your own," Prowl explained gently, leading him farther back. "For dramatic affect."

"Negative. They are not here to see only me," he replied, still confused. Sunstreaker sighed. What had he been thinking? The mech didn't have a need to be noticed.

'I'm Your Boogie Man' began enthusiastically, causing more snide commentary from Jazz and Sideswipe. Blaster allowed a moment for the hook to settle into the human's brains before he started building them up.

"They're fast. They're fierce. They'd love to take you to your Prom. I bring you…THE WARRIORS!"

Red Alert zipped out with Bluestreak at his heels, Smokescreen trailing slightly behind. Sideswipe smiled at Sunstreaker as they hoisted Jazz onto their shoulders and came out behind Prowl and Mirage. The audience ate it up, picking up the cheer of "Jazz!" as the Lamborghinis circled the rink, trying not to drop their muttering cargo.

"Wrist wrist elbow elbow elbow," they heard him say softly once their music died for the main event. The opening strains of 'Enter Sandman' began, a guitar solo that seemed to build upon itself like a dust storm, swirling and shifting until it was eclipsed by the main theme.

"AND NOW...LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, AUTOBOTS, DINOBOTS, AERIALBOTS…I PRESENT TO YOU…THE LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS, THE CHOSEN ONE, THE BEARER OF THE MATRIX OF LEADERSHIP…"

"Somebody shut him up." Sunny growled, glad they were placing the Porsche down before he scratched their enamel any worse. The crowd above them was getting hysterical.

"YOUR HERO AND MINE…OPTIMUS PRIME!"

The Autobot leader skated out, head down, shaking his head in embarrassment, occasionally waving to the audience as they cheered louder. He would have been happier coming out with the trucks.

"And NOW…the main event!"

"Remind me to kill Tracks later for thinking this up," Sunstreaker groused, making his way to the side designated to wear blue Autobot-sized jerseys.

"Me first!" retorted Gears. "This game will distort my alignment in no time. I just got it fixed."

Blaster got the last word again, declaring they had to honor the United States by having Silverbolt sing the National Anthem. Sideswipe had no idea he could sing. Cliffjumper pointed out that ALL Autobots could sing, it was more of a matter of who was more willing to do it in public. Silverbolt sang everywhere he went, making him a likely candidate for Blaster's last-minute scramble to find someone.

"Blaster and Tracks got stuck holding the bag when Jazz left the project, so he had a lot of stuff not finished before the event." Silverbolt hit the high notes of "and the rocket's red glare" perfectly. "Not cool of Jazz."

"Bite me," Jazz replied, standing behind the red mech and hearing the whole thing.

"You first!" The red minibot was not afraid of confrontation.

"Will ya'll HUSH?" their team captain demanded. "Fahght later, play now."

"Whatever," both Porsches snorted, forgetting the issue before "home of the brave" finished reverberating throughout the stadium.

Skywarp had been heralded as a hero by Thundercracker. The others wanted to snicker at him for having to spend the night with RAVAGE, but as Scrapper pointed out, who else would have taken one for the team?

Astrotrain was afraid of this. The last things they needed were blackmail and security breaches. How was the attempt to get Megatron distracted going?

"Terrible," Blitzwing reported. He and Astrotrain were inside his room. They only communicated when the energon cube was at their lips, making interpretation difficult for anyone spying on them. "We need the Combaticons."

"So far it's not happening," Astrotrain declared. "I'm running out of ideas, unless Megatron does it for us."

"One can only hope," Blitzwing replied sarcastically. Tonight he had to visit his leader. "Tell me he let you off easily."

The triple-changer lifted a leg up to show the inside of his upper leg where he still had bite marks. "Maybe he'll be nice to you."

It had been a long, pointless game. Originally timed for an hour and a half, all of the sudden-death overtime made it go for twice as long as anticipated. Blaster scrapped his plans to have them show off skating tricks (the programs hadn't been ordered in time, thus no one knew what was supposed to happen anyway). The humans cleared out after a two-hour picture/autograph party followed.

"Fifteen." Sunstreaker had counted how many people came up to him personally, not just to The Twins. "You had twenty-two."

"Come on, there's half of the stack of pictures missing. That means we had a hundred people visit us."

"Less than that. Most people grabbed the pictures we pre-signed and left. I talked to fifteen people. Bumblebee had fifteen people talking to him at once. It's not fair."

"Get over it!" Blaster was chasing out the last of the humans and getting Warpath to scare away any potential lurkers. "You may be pretty but you ain't all that!"

"Can we go home now?" Gears whined. He had NO fans, which suited him perfectly, giving him time to try to realign his tires.

"No way, Jose. We just raised sixteen grand for AIDS studies. It's time for open skate!" With a flourish he issued orders in to a walkie-talkie and several disco balls lowered as pre-recorded music boomed 'Bust a Move.' Few Autobots volunteered to go out until Sunstreaker chased after Sideswipe in an attempt to get him for the malicious observation he made about how Sunny should try to be a 'cuter' shade of yellow like Bumblebee and maybe he'd have more fans. Bluestreak, Jazz, Mirage, Hound, and Trailbreaker followed. Everyone else lagged behind, except for an embarrassed Optimus and the few who vowed never to skate again.

"I ran out of pictures, Prowl," he uttered in awed tones. "I thought the humans hated me."

"Obviously not," Prowl replied. "Perhaps you are likeable, after all."

Optimus laughed. "I may start to believe you."

They had fun. Sort of. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe did enough furtive clotheslines to Perceptor not to be caught by any authority figures but enough to discourage him from thinking his position with them was improving. Jazz was beginning to try the tricks they had not been allowed time to perform: skating backwards, crouching, dancing with Sideswipe, even jumping over Sunstreaker. The yellow mech recalled a few jumping moves he'd seen Kristi Yamaguchi do in the Olympics, landing on his brother by accident and causing Ratchet and Wheeljack to glide by chanting "MED-IC! MED-IC!"

Trailbreaker smiled at Sunstreaker every time their optics met, making Sunny wonder if this were to be his next encounter. Hound and Mirage were still going strong, lending time for the warrior to consider other options. If only Siders weren't being such a pain…

He wouldn't admit it, but Sideswipe was still smarting from his last rejection. They had argued over this before, how Sideswipe had lousy taste in mechs, and how it always came back to haunt him when the relationship with whomever soured. Sunstreaker had TOLD him: let them come and the rapport would be a more natural progression, but he was stubborn. The mech was convinced that he could conquer anyone with the same bluntness as his fists meeting with Decepticon metal. He was wrong. Sunny should know-he ran after Hound all of the time and all it did was kill him when the Jeep made up with the racecar. But Sideswipe wouldn't listen, and even in the middle of all of the fun they were having with Jazz he kept losing the smile on his face.

"Guess what, campers?" Blaster's voice came in during their attempt to see who would help Sunny throw Brawn into the air and try to catch him while in motion. "It's time…to turn down the lights…and pair up…for doubles skating." Vanessa Williams' 'Saved the Best for Last' caused a massive exodus until Blaster announced that Prime had requested this song. No one would be so rude as to dishonor their leader's choice in tunes.

"Give me a break!" Gears howled, unable to escape Bumblebee's grip. "Help?"

Sunstreaker grabbed Jazz and took off before the scramble for anyone in their clique to protect from outsiders got underway. Sideswipe almost ended up with Powerglide before Bluestreak threw a fit (something he could do on command, when he was paying attention. He must have seen Siders' panicked expression). Hound was with Mirage. Trailbreaker and Ironhide skated next to each other but didn't touch. Warpath and Cosmos linked arms like an old couple.

"Awww!" Jazz commented.

"Yeah yeah, minibot love is cute," Sunny sneered. He was trying not to trip over the Porsche's smaller, quicker steps.

"Nah, not them, those two." He pointed across the rink, to an odd sight near Bluestreak and Sideswipe. "But Cosmos and Warpath are cute, too."

Prime had his hand held out as a shocked Perceptor, still trying to stand up from his last fall, slowly reached up to accept it. He wobbled on his leader's strong arm, smiling demurely as he nearly took both of them down. Sunstreaker and Jazz were close enough to hear their conversation by the time the microscope had overcome his astonishment and instability and tried to skate forward.

"I apologize. I am not the most agile individual," the microscope explained contritely.

Prime nodded, put his blue hands into Perceptor's dark gray and turned to face him, skating backwards, optics never leaving his partner's. "All you have to do is hold on to me. I won't let you fall."

Sunstreaker hadn't realized he was coasting until Jazz asked him if he were all right. "I'm fine," he murmured absent-mindedly. "Let's go catch up to Siders." He regarded his co-skater carefully as they bypassed the few between them and their target. "Did you hear what Prime said?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

Jazz didn't hear the inflection. This was not Prime merely offering assistance. It was a confession. And he wasn't the only one who'd heard it. Anybody who saw the look of horror on Sideswipe's face would have realized that.

The stronghold in Arizona had titanium walls, motion sensors, Autobot security measures, minefields surrounding the outside, fifteen security codes/retina and handprint scans, and a sniper at every corner. Devastator, Menasor, and Bruticus kept Omega Supreme and the Protectobots busy as Soundwave landed on the roof and made a new entrance, to Fakkadi's army's amazement. Earth worms scattered in a panic as Decepticons tossed them aside without a second thought. The Karbombians were completely delighted.

"This is for giving Afghanistan weapons!" one cried, shooting an American soldier.

"THIS is for invading Kuwait!" another ululated, slashing the throat of an ugly blond kid.

One soldier had clearly lost it, going crazy and bayoneting someone obviously dead. "And THIS is for winning the bid to host the 1994 World Cup in Detroit! DETROIT!!!!!!"

"Get a hold of yourself!" their captain commanded. "We must go to the center ring before the large Decepticons get in here."

"We have arrived," Soundwave announced over the intercom. "There is a setback."

"What?" Rumble asked, the same time Megatron radioed for a status report.

There is no greater satisfaction than the end of a stressful evening. Cleanup was quick and easy. Tracks and Blaster thanked the City of Phoenix over and over again, especially for meeting the funds raised, and if the Autobots didn't mind doing a commercial for their Convention and Tourism Bureau, it would be appreciated. Prime was satisfied with the turnout.

Then he turned his radio back on and saw that they had gotten a call from their less verbose guardian for help.

"AN AGRICULTURAL RESEARCH PROJECT!" Decepticons ducked left and right as Megatron fired in every direction he could. President Fakkadi blinked in disbelief. They were not developing a weapon. The United Nations was working on feeding world hunger. He was so angry he would not move, he could not speak. He recovered quickly when Megatron turned his own wrath onto Abdul Fakkadi. "HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THIS?"

"Karbombia is not part of the Untied Nations. They have had sanctions on us since 1990, when my glorious country demanded I humbly destroy the cancerous leadership devouring our beautiful republic-"

"SILENCE!! Decepticons! Retreat! Leave the humans to the Autobots."

The dictator did not comment. He had been spirited away by his generals who took the moment Megatron turned his back to escape. The Decepticon leader debated allowing this and ruled that he'd get him later, he had to save his own soldiers; besides, the humans would turn on him quickly enough.

Prime rolled in just in time to unleash his Autobots to clean up after the recently-retreated Decepticons. The Americans, wrathful of what had happened to their own soldiers, demanded the right to put the Kabombians into their special prison in Cuba, while the U.N. wanted to do an investigation, and while all of this went down, someone had enough sense to ask where the Autobots had been during all of this.

"A charity program." They shook their heads in disappointment, but couldn't say too much. Optimus had discussed it with them; had warned them long ago that the Autobots could only do so much for earth and were already volunteering too much for the U.N., blah blah blah blah. (Red Alert, the only one with an active radio, had been cleared of all charges when the Autobots found out that a bad fall during the game had broken his receiver and he hadn't known.) Prime offered to personally visit the families of the deceased, which was not the point as far as President Clinton was concerned. He wanted to know why the Decepticons wanted the information, and why they'd banded with the most useless government to get it?

"Either there's more than meets the eye, or Megatron made a stupid mistake," Clinton declared.

"Megatron makes mistakes," Prime replied carefully. "He may claim to be perfect, but he is far from it. He has faults and weaknesses, like any other Decepticon. The problem is that he is very clever at recovering from his flaws and utilizing them to his advantage."

A disturbing thought indeed; one that set Prime's processor in motion. Perhaps he should confer with Prowl regarding his idea, or someone else. His radio sent out a signal before he could assess what he was doing.

"Perceptor, come in. This is Prime."

It was only a radio, therefore he could not see the scientist's reaction. He hoped it was favorable. "Greetings Prime. How may I help you?"

Optimus steadied himself. "I have a plan, but before I discuss it with Prowl I want another opinion. Are you free for a drink later?"

"I'm sorry, Optimus, but I'm afraid-" he grunted, as though elbowed, and a hurried whispered conversation hissed like static before another voice imposed.

"Prime, this is Wheeljack. Perceptor's free. He forgot that he asked me to watch the lab for him tonight." Another grunt, and Perceptor confirmed this. Prime proposed a time, Wheeljack affirmed it, and they signed off.

The temporary base was blown up, for safety reasons. Soundwave dispatched Laserbeak for surveillance. Starscream did his 'I told you so' walk, although he had been refused ANY access to this plan, therefore not having an opportunity to tell him ANYTHING. Out loud. Right now an evening with Blitzwing sounded really good. That mech had the sniveling sycophant routine down pat. Still, a few Decepticons had to be punished.

"We were temporarily set back due to a poor communication issue brought by a few IDIOTS!" he screamed. "Vortex! Swindle! Soundwave!" All three came forth. None looked particularly pleased. They were shot, given a tongue lashing, and sentenced to being the ones who had to find a way to 1) punish Fakkadi and 2) get energon to compensate that lost in today's battle and 3) clear their schedules tonight. Everyone knew what that meant. Swindle opened his mouth more than once to object, but nothing came out. Soundwave nodded humbly. Vortex simmered. Astrotrain hid a victorious thumbs-up to Blitzwing. Another wing of the Decepticon army would be joining them soon, he was certain of it.

"So what are you in the mood for?" Sideswipe held up their newest collection of videos, including 'Wayne's World,' their favorite.

"Whatever." Jazz replied, getting comfortable. He was 'spending the night.' Blaster's complete lack of pathos coupled with Sideswipe's landslide of unhappiness made Sunstreaker decide to up the ante by inviting Jazz to stay overnight, a generous offer in his opinion given that Jazz had been a hard mech to endure for long periods of time.

"Porn it is." Sideswipe put in 'Big Banana Jones and the Temple of Poon' as Sunstreaker objected. "They go back tomorrow! Primus! Let me get my money's worth."

"Crank the volume!" Jazz called from Sideswipe's plate. (Sunny wanted nothing to do with this.) "Make 'em think it's us!"

Who would be so stupid? Sunny shut off his optics and audiosensors and went offline quickly, to Jazz's delight. It was a lot easier to make fun of this stuff without the designated Wet Blanket around.

Sideswipe didn't want to hear any of the Porsche's commentary. He didn't want to think about anything right now; all he wanted to do was get lost in the lack of plot.

Black fingers were working their way up the outside of his upper leg as a visored face peered up to see if he had been noticed. It broke up the daydream, to Sideswipe's irritation. The blond female in the shower scene was covered in suds and begging the other man not to let his wife know, since they were 'best friends and shared everything.'

"EVERYTHING?" the man leered.

Jazz's fingers softly traced Sideswipe's helmet, tickling him. The visor glowed longingly, hungrily. "Since we're both up, do you wanna-"

"No," he replied shortly. If there was one thing he was not in the mood for, it was playing with someone while something else burned in his processor, like settling for human energon when high-grade had been what he craved all day.

"Sorry." Jazz settled back down and tried not to sulk. For a threesome these two were boring.

Soundwave could hear many things floating in his processor at once as he tried to read the thoughts of his fellow Decepticons. He read the worry in Megatron's as he fixated over his frustrations. Starscream was a blank slate (strange). Rumble thought of nothing but his usual dreams of glory. Astrotrain seemed uneasy. Skywarp radiated the aura of an unhappy warrior; as though something awful had to be exorcised from his database or he'd never rest again. Ravage purred.

Megatron pulled Soundwave into his throne room after 'punishing' Vortex and Swindle. He brooded on his throne, boredom and uncertainty seeping out of him. Not nervous uncertainty-this was more along the wave of an avoidance-avoidance situation decision.

"I have promoted Starscream to Air Commander. He is not my second-in-command, however. That particular distinction will remain yours. IF…"

Soundwave never interrupted, even when prompted. He remained kneeling.

"Why have I lost the abilities my creator and you taught me?" he demanded.

This was the first Soundwave had heard of this. Had he lost it, too?

"Recent upgrade; potential for neural distortion."

Megatron stood up. "You do not know for certain?"

Soundwave was on thin ice and needed to process quickly. He could not admit any flaws in his own maintenance skills.

"For Starscream."

Megatron nodded reluctantly. He HAD been repaired hastily after a crippling defeat. This did not explain how he could talk to Megatron. Not that the silver leader could admit this. So Soundwave had known little, if not less, of how this power had disappeared. Perhaps his last link-up with the other part of his laser core had been too long ago. It would be awhile before he could contact him, even longer to convince him to leave his post, and in the meantime Megatron was foundering-

Soundwave remained in a respectful pose, picking up only a few of the impulses running through his leader, like a fading radio. What had happened?

-but that shouldn't be an issue. Perhaps Laserbeak could send out a message-

From outside of the base Buzzsaw demanded reentry. This gave Soundwave a perfect excuse to let his presence be known. He played the buzzard's transmission and watched Megatron frown grimly.

Abdul Fakkadi was ready to cooperate with the United Nations, if they were interested in hearing about Megatron's "latest plan."

"He was a part of my latest plan!" the Decepticon leader roared. "Soundwave! Assemble the army! It's time for revenge."

There were some very unpleasant aspects of his job. Prowl had to tolerate a lot of issues, incompetence, inconceivable setbacks, inundation of idiots, and illustrious ill-tempered villains, but this, this, THIS was the reason they had Jazz. Unfortunately, Jazz was busy. This could not wait. Prime was behind on his responsibilities, Smokescreen and Ratchet did not raise their hands, Ironhide blatantly refused to do it, and Jazz had the night off and was nowhere to be found. That left Prowl as the one who heard the bad news and had to pass it on.

He found him in his room, polishing his legs as Blaster lay on the floor in boom box mode, playing music. They both stood at attention when Prowl walked in.

"We received a call from New York. There were complications. Raul did not survive the second operation."

Tracks remained at attention, optics losing their glow faster than a flashlight on dim batteries. He waited.

"You have been denied permission to attend the funeral."

The red lips curled down involuntarily. "He's not happy until I'm miserable," he snarled, hands clenched into fists.

"I'd advise you to keep your comments to yourself," Prowl replied coolly. "Because of the recent Decepticon attack we have elevated our status to a high state of emergency, thus any and all requests to leave the vicinity have been denied."

"Prowl, we're always in a state of emergency!" Blaster interjected. "Have a heart, man! This was his best friend!"

The Datsun remained dispassionate. "This is not a matter of heart. This is a matter of protection. When we are downgraded to a lower security code you will be allowed first leave. Good night."

He could hear him swearing through the door. "I do not for one second believe this is a security issue! That fucking truck!"

"Shh! Shh! SHHH! It's okay, T. We'll think of something. It's okay!" The Corvette's angry rants were muffled into sobs of bitter loneliness. "Raul understands. You know he does."

"Yeah, but I can't tell him. And I never will."

"You will," Blaster promised. Prowl walked away, hating his job. Where was Jazz?

Jazz waited until he heard the alternating snores of the two brothers before creeping out to get another movie. He ran into Hound.

"Is Sunstreaker in there?"

Jazz nodded. "Fast asleep."

"Oh." He turned around and walked alongside Jazz, working up the nerve. "Are you three REALLY…doing all that?"

Jazz smiled in that way that could be variously interpreted. "You know I don't brag."

Hound chuckled. "That means you're not, or we'd be comparing notes."

Jazz laughed with him. (Comparing notes…Sunny must have another talent besides annoying the slag out of everybody.) "Maybe, maybe not."

Hound smiled back, something phony about the curve on his face making his tone insincere. "I'm glad he's happy."

"PULL INTO FORMATION!! THRUST! GET BACK HERE OR I'M GIVING YOU BARNACLE REMOVAL DUTY!"

Thrust sighed. Starscream would make them PAY for any and all insults, real or imagined, intentional or not, now that he was Air Force Commander again. Frenzy was his first target, punished for daring to tell the rest of the army about Starscream's lousy technique. The rest were feeling the sting like aftershocks and wondered why Megatron had decided to reinstate him. The more bad choices their leader made, the more likely their rebellion would get off the ground, instead of the usual implosion/discovery that occurred.

"GET BEHIND ME OR I OPEN FIRE!" their team leader screeched, shooting Astrotrain in the rockets. The triple-changer sailed to the back, darkly grumbling that someone was making up for lost time. This whole mission was a farce, anyway. Find and destroy a human in hiding. This was not the proverbial clean bolt in a junkheap, this was on a nuclear level of exploration. Why didn't they just torture it out of somebody?

"BECAUSE WE KNOW WHERE HE IS, THAT'S WHY!"

Ramjet pulled ahead. "Let's go!" The jet pulled ahead and then seemed to change his mind midway, going back into formation. "You don't have to threaten to tell Megatron that, Starscream."

"He didn't," replied Astrotrain. "Nobody said anything."

"Stay in formation anyway!" Starscream cut in impatiently. "Our target is below us. FIRE!"

A small compound, barely large enough to house Soundwave's tapes, ignited quickly and blew up even faster.

"Must've had a whole arsenal in there," Thrust supposed.

"Fun's over! Head back to base!"

Fine with them. The Combaticons had called a secret meeting.

'You are not looking well. Perhaps you should rest.' There was no response. Megatron tried again, losing patience quickly. 'I know you can hear me, Starscream. Acknowledge!'

His Air Commander remained inert, kneeling on the floor and awaiting further orders.

"You have failed to detect Fakkadi, Starscream. His presumed location was abandoned at the time you bombed it, something you would have realized had you bothered to follow procedure and use a scout."

"I will not fail you again, mighty Megatron." Megatron's fourth in command was as sarcastic as ever. Tired, too.

"Dismissed."

He drifted into a sea of consciousness that played like a hundred movies at once, recalling events or making them up as he slumbered, but none came in sharp enough to merit his attention, except for the small excerpt recalling his birth.

By 'birth,' he really saw the moment his optics turned on and he faced his creator.

"My prince!" the unknown mech called triumphantly. "This one will usher us to the promised era!" He turned back to his students, all brainy and young. "I have given this one parts from a well-known priest and tel-"

It switched to Skyfire, ripping his Decepticon symbol off, to a yellow Lamborghini attacking him, to Megatron shooting him dead after his victory, to other strange sights that crowded him like a muddy stream swirling with blood from an unknown source.

"We join, but not willingly," Swindle was the designated negotiator. "We're not making a profit here with you."

"Like we care," Rumble retorted.

Bonecrusher ignored him. He had no idea how he had been pushed into the front to do this, but there he was, doing the usual: Loading (responsibility), moving (himself to the front), and unloading (information).

"So the plan is this: we've modified the communicator to keep anyone from seeing us when we take the spacebridge."

Someone snickered.

"We're going to distract him. Then we'll take the spacebridge, kill Shockwave, destroy the spacebridge, start a riot-"

Someone laughed out loud.

"-and leave Megatron with Soundwave and Starscream for the Autobots."

They didn't bother to conceal it. The Combaticons cracked up.

"What?" Bonecrusher demanded irritably.

After five minutes, Swindle shook his head and calmed down enough to ask them how they planned on distracting Megatron.

"That's where you come in!" Motormaster replied, tired of all this delay. They told them the plan, now they had to agree to do it so that they could move on. "You gotta distract him!"

This brought on a fresh attack of derisive laughter.

"You-you're serious?" Swindle couldn't control himself any longer. "That's your plan? Tap him on the shoulder and run?"

"Who's idea was THAT?" Vortex demanded. "Astrotrain's?"

As they continued to chortle the other Decepticons exchanged uneasy glances.

"Your plans didn't work out either, remember?" Scrapper challenged. "You'd still be in a holding block if Starscream hadn't bailed you out."

The Combaticons stood up at attention at that.

Mixmaster smirked. "D-d-do you have a better idea?"

"We have," Onslaught replied stiffly. "Because while you were planning your coup d'etate ridiculous…WE found Fakkadi."

Sunstreaker awoke to a pleasant distraction. Someone was kissing him. Soft, gentle, methodical enough to not allow him to drift off. He settled the score by punching the mech in the face hard enough to knock him to the floor.

"There's more where that came from, slagger! Oh." He was in trouble now. "Fraggit Hound, I've told you not to do that!"

Hound sat up ruefully, watching Sideswipe grumble as he rotated to face the wall. "I'll have you anyway I want you, geek," Siders garbled, still asleep.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I wanted to wake you up, not him." Hound made a move to climb into the plate with his yellow friend.

Sunstreaker sighed. This pattern had gone on too long: Hound and Mirage argued, Hound ran to Sunstreaker, Sunstreaker comforted him, Hound went back, Sunny got hurt, all was well for awhile, then another fight.

The jeep wrapped his arms around the Lamborghini and sighed deeply. "I had another fight with Mirage. He said you weren't faking it."

"Faking what?" Sunstreaker replied sleepily, unable to process even at a basic level this time of night.

"Faking being with Jazz and Sideswipe," he replied, moving in to kiss Sunny again.

Sunstreaker balked. "It's not fake."

Hound looked into his optics and smiled serenely. He knew Sunstreaker better than that: he didn't share, he didn't do anything crazy, unless he was trying to get Hound's attention, which this was. Hound was not about to reveal that he was onto this ploy. "Sunny…you're…going out with your own brother?"

"No!" he hissed. "I'm going out with Jazz! It's just that…he wanted to go out with both of us, and they wouldn't let me go first."

Hound didn't know how to react to that. He stared for a good long time. "I think you've let all those movies Sideswipe makes you watch warp your idea of what's right."

Sunstreaker shoved Hound off of his plate as hard as he could. "Hound," he said clearly, trying to keep from waking his brother, "I think you either have cast-iron manifolds or are too stupid to hear yourself talk. I don't want to be your 'backup' anymore. Go home."

Hound made a small noise of hurt but obeyed, closing the door as softly as he could.

Sunstreaker leaned against the wall and groaned. So this was how it ended. 'Interesting?' No. Thanks a lot, Jazz.

"Thanks a lot, Starscream!"

He didn't care. He wasn't accepting any type of peace offering from Frenzy, no matter how much he talked it up. "Nothing you could say would interest me in the slightest! Get out, pipsqueak!" Maybe if he showed it…

This was not going well.

"Swindle to Megatron! Swindle to Megatron!"

He'd been enjoying a fine cube of energon with a less-than enthusiastic Thrust when the call came in.

"Report."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAhi!"

That was a recognizeable scream. "You have him!" Megatron's optics glowed.

Onslaught interpolated the frequency. "Of course we do! You never gave the call to cease searching."

"No, I didn't…" Megatron felt his excitement mounting. No, wait, that was Thrust. He shoved him off and pulled him out the door, looked around and saw Ramjet and Dirge standing nearby. Soundwave was nowhere in the vicinity. No matter; this would be quick and those surrounding him were sufficient.

Soundwave stared, completely confused.

"Repeat petition."

Skywarp tried not to scowl, hating every moment of this. Thundercracker had come up with the idea, saying that it was the only way to distract Soundwave and keep him from sensing what they were doing, since he could detect thought patterns and any errant impulses would give them all away.

"WHY ME?" he demanded.

Thundercracker shrugged. "Who else?"

Now, the moment he had to rise to the occasion his nerve was failing him. This was disgusting.

"I want to…" he swallowed another grimace. "…ask your permission to date Ravage."

The cat in question was so excited he was turning circles and yowling at Soundwave's feet, scratching at his leg in ecstasy. He eagerly leapt into Soundwave's tape holder to voice his enthusiasm.

"State rationale."

This was the easiest part. "We…um…shared a nice moment, and I liked it, and…I want it to continue." It was Onslaught's speech. Skywarp should have roughed it up a little, judging by the tape player's cold, unresponsive stare. That could be his imagination. Skywarp tried to smile pleasantly. "I like him." He needed to be more convincing. "He's got a lot of spirit."

Megatron's second-in-command continued to pontificate with that unrelenting gaze on the inwardly cringing jet. He was sure Soundwave would let this happen; that was the jet's rotten luck. The minutes ticked.

Red Alert woke them all up with his usual hair-trigger alarm hysterics.

"The Combaticons have Abdul Fakkadi hostage! The United Nations want us to save him before Megatron gets there!"

"Is Megatron on his way?" Hound asked sleepily through the conference radio.

"No…"

"Gimme another five minutes," Ironhide replied, turning over.

"This is Optimus Prime. All Autobots are to report outside NOW."

Ironhide sighed and climbed off of his plate. "It was worth a shot." His green guest slunk out a few moments later.

Certainly he was running out of time. This was a situation requiring canniness and wit. Abdul Fakkadi had neither of these. He had a big mouth and arrogance. He demanded water. He had to duck when Vortex almost crushed him to pieces.

The wait was excruciating. If only they could just KILL the human already-

"Guess who?" Onslaught whispered over their radio connection. The other four looked up to see his curt nod towards the southwest.

Swindle shifted uncomfortably. The Constructicons were waiting in a nearby hanger for their signal. The Stunticons would be following a discrete distance from Megatron, thus accompanied by anyone but Decepticons who could bail him out. Fakkadi twitched in the heat and complained copiously. The Jeep felt the nervousness twist inside of him as he recalled what happened the first time he had tried to kill Megatron, and the time after that, as Bruticus. What made them think this attempt would work?

Brawl, Vortex, and Blast Off wiggled with the same unease as the wind picked up and swirled the desert sand like talcum powder.

"He's coming."

"I know you want it," Frenzy wheedled.

Starscream drew himself up to his tallest and towered over his hated enemy. "Give it to me and then leave!"

They were tiny, pink cylinders in a package of ten. They looked-and smelled-disgusting. As Starscream backed away in repulsion, Frenzy smiled his most charming.

"They're called Hot Dogs. NOBODY knows what's in 'em."

He yanked them out of the cassette's hand. "I'll know by the end of the hour!"

"Sky Spy's spotted them somewhere over…there!" Prowl announced.

"I know that area!" Beachcomber exclaimed. "I'll lead the way!"

"Transform and roll out!" Optimus called.

Sideswipe shook himself back into the real world, because he was falling behind, lost in another daydream. The continent got darker the further west they went, and the driving seemed to never end. Where was Skyfire when you needed him?

He descended from the ground without fanfare or warning. Silver, tyrannical…flanked by Dirge, Thrust, Ramjet, and a recently acquired Thundercracker.

"Give-that thing-to me," he hissed, black fist clenched eagerly.

Onslaught never missed a histrionic moment. "You heard him! LET HIM HAVE IT!"

"Request denied."

Skywarp couldn't keep the smile away, so he quickly moved his hand to his mouth to make it seem like he was trying to hold back a sob of disappointment.

"Why not?"

Ravage could be heard mewling pathetically.

"You are an unacceptable companion."

"Unacceptable how?" Skywarp forgot the charade in his indignation. How DARE he?

"Soundwave! Come in! This is Megatron! COME IN!"

The large blue mech pressed a button. "Hail Megatron!"

"I'm being torn apart by Constructions! Prepare to render aid in coordinates-AUGH!"

Soundwave didn't wait. He dashed past his visitor and up the hall to the exit without acknowledgement. Skywarp followed after five minutes.

Megatron's unofficial punching bag carefully lifted the corner of the hot dog package and gently placed it into a nearby container. "I've never seen anything like it!" He spoke in hushed tones, as though he'd discovered radium.

"So are we cool?" the red tape demanded.

"No! I will avoid disintegrating you, however. Unless you again incur my wrath."

"Incur your wrath?" This was too much. "You slaggin' geek! Can't you talk-"

"Silence!" Without warning, Starscream stood up straight, tilted his head, stared into space as though someone were standing behind him and whispering into his audios, and rushed out.

Frenzy hurried behind.

It was as though an entire pool of smelt had fallen from the sky: Starscream arrived in time to see Decepticons trying to kill Megatron while trying to ward off Soundwave and the Autobots while Soundwave tried to free Megatron and kill the Autobots while the Autobots tried to free Fakkadi and ward of the Decepticons while Megatron tried to kill everyone but Soundwave. Starscream sat down and drew a diagram in the sand for clarification.

After about fifteen minutes it became apparent that Megatron was losing. If these dimwitted Decepticons accomplished what he, Starscream, could not, then he would never hear the end of it. On the other wing…these idiots were pretty easy to subdue. Once they got this revolution out of their system, they would be pretty docile.

He had to give Megatron credit: the silver mech was giving as good as he got. Right now those irritating Lamborghini brothers were being used as shields. He didn't beg for help either.

The Seeker's radio crackled. "Assistance required." Guess who that was?

"You don't need my help. You're doing fine!" Soundwave had spent a great deal of time trying to command obedience from his mech-like tapes, to no avail. It was him, Ravage, Buzzsaw, Laserbeak (oops! Not any more!) and Megatron against EVERYONE. Starscream wished he'd brought some energon.

"State terms."

This elicited a laugh. "You think you can give me something to help you save Megatron?" Buzzsaw fell from Bluestreak's sharpshooting and was quickly covered in dust. Soundwave's next transmission was desperate, almost pleading. Starscream waited a full five minutes, enough time to see Brawn AND Brawl simultaneously knock Megatron's cannon free from his arm.

"I want my second-in-command status reinstated."

BOOM! Devastator fell apart from Soundwave's rattling radio waves. "Not negotiable."

Ravage ended up at the bottom of a mini-bot dogpile, the poor kitty. Starscream gleefully pointed this out. "I could use an ally," he finally replied. A tape player and his tiny minions would be nice.

"Terms accepted. Commence plan."

Well, it was fun while it lasted. "Take down Bruticus from the back. I'll get rid of the Autobots." Once he found Fakkadi and tossed him a couple of miles away, the Autobots would pull back and save the human, like they always did. Why didn't Soundwave ever think of these things?

"This is an outrage! How DARE you treat ME, the honorable Abdhul Fakkadi, in such a manor! Heads will roll! What are you-" Bumblebee stuffed him into Ratchet's back compartment and whacked the ambulance van on the rear fender as hard as he could.

"Roll out!" he called, eager to get that irksome character OUT of there already. The other Autobots didn't notice, being involved in witnessing the pageant a far enough away to merit investigation.

"So what's wrong with this picture?" Jazz asked, hand on chin in his 'intellectual' pose.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker glanced in his visor's intended direction.

"They're revolting?" Sideswipe guessed.

"They were always revolting," Jazz quipped. "But I guess some mechs have lousy taste in color schemes…"

"Never mind," Prime announced, cutting a wide berth around Tracks and Blaster to get to the front of the crowd. "We don't get involved in domestic squabbles."

Jazz got excited when the Combaticons surrounded Soundwave and Starscream and forced them to relinquish their weapons. "Can we stay and see the end?"

Optimus considered this. "I suppose we should. We have to find out who wins. For defense purposes."

"Right!" they chorused, getting comfortable.

"Wish I had some energon," Bumblebee sighed.

His own troops had outsmarted him. He'd been able to take cover behind the only dune available-in plain sight of the Autobots, humiliating enough-and the Decepticons were coming up fast upon him, and looked as though they were not in a cheerful mood. As Megatron gazed upon the sneering flock of Seekers he deduced the whole thing was Starscream's fault. Except that Starscream wasn't even there for most of this. His Air Commander, deeply offended he hadn't been included in one of the few successful takeover plans executed, was standing with his arms crossed in disbelief behind a wall of armed Combaticons. Soundwave remained next to him with the charred remains of his loyal tapes, not reacting at all.

"I. Do. Not. NEGOTIATE!" Firing his last round from a stolen Autobot gun was a definite lapse in judgment. They laughed harder at him. Where could he go? He was so deeply wounded he couldn't fly, he was out of ammunition, and had nowhere to go if he DID escape.

"If you were processing instead of chasing tailpipe all the time, you'd know better!" Skywarp retaliated without any qualms.

Megatron tried not to panic. There had to be a ringleader, some kind of instigator. He looked up from his position crouched on the ground and tried to formulate a plan; one that would get them to stop shooting at him en masse.

"All right!…all right. Who is your representative?"

Skywarp and Thundercracker exchanged glances. "All of us," they replied.

This did not bode well. He watched them surround his dune and tried to think of something to ask. "What are your demands, traitors?"

Frenzy stopped firing to address the crowd. "Ya see that? The first time we have a problem and he starts callin' us names."

"That's too bad," Dirge jeered. "I don't think we should let him." The wheeze of blasters convinced Megatron to try another tactic.

"Stop! Have it your way! I will leave you alone!"

"All of us?" demanded Blitzwing.

"All of you!" The traitorous slagheaps.

"I don't want you getting revenge on us for doing this," reminded Thrust.

Megatron sighed. "There are times when a leader must listen to his army. This is one of those moments." He tried to put on a sincerely saddened expression. "I do not understand why you feel the need to associate with each other. We are not the Autobot army. Look at them!" he gestured to the accumulated mass of enemy observing what Prime was more than likely labeling a 'domestic squabble.' The triumphant tone he took when he said that burned Megatron's circuits. "They were built as pleasurebots, programmed to service their masters' base needs, and once we freed them they chased after each other – as well as us – with a complete lack of concentration!" His anger was getting the better of him, he'd better calm down. "We are superior to our programs."

"Then why did you make us do all that weird stuff?"

Because he could. "Loyalty must be tested in many forms," he explained.

Optimus Prime, who had been holding back both Ironhide and Cliffjumper, burst out laughing. "I'll tell you why he did it: you let him!" The other Autobots joined in.

Flustered, the Stunticons formed Menasor and chased their enemy away. When they returned they found an unhappy Megatron out from behind his dune and being kicked by anyone who could put a foot in.

"Either kill me or don't!" The silver mech announced as they pulled back upon Menasor's direction. "You are doing nothing to further your cause!"

"He's right," Hook agreed, taking the lead for the first time. "Our demands are simple: no more paying homage, no retribution for our protest, and more energon."

Beneath all of them their leader grunted. "I will yield, on one condition. We are entering a mutual agreement in which I am relinquishing a great deal of control. Control that I will never have again." He waited for the enormity of what he was saying to enter their processors. "As proof of my adherence, I will give you your freedom. As testimony of your agreement, you will give collateral. One of you must volunteer to be my consort in the stead of your unit." He wished he'd thought of that earlier. If anything would guarantee the ringleader emerging, it would be the opportunity to claim all of the power and privileges of being a co-liege!

Sure enough, they glanced at each other, some in horror, some in bewilderment, others with a desperate calculation. Scavenger spoke up first. "Would that mean we don't have to work anymore and are second-in-command, like Starscream used to be?"

They were all his again. Megatron's optics gleamed in a mixture of relief and triumph. "You would be exulted above any so-called exultation of Starscream."

"WHAT!?" shrieked the Seeker (as well as Soundwave), unheard above the clambering of the rest of the Decepticons calling for their own applications to be accepted. Megatron was hauled up to his feet, dust brushed away from his body, affectionate hands caressing his silver arms and back as dulcet tones proclaimed his greatness. Rumble ran for his gun barrel; Ramjet called him 'dear.' They were falling over themselves to be his favorite. It was a heady moment.

"YOU BLASTED FOOLS!"

Above Starscream's protests and Soundwave's silent glares and the chaos of every Decepticon wanting a larger share of power was the fury of a frustrated Astrotrain. "YOU'RE VOLUNTEERING TO DO WHAT WE JUST REBELLED AGAINST! YOU'VE JUST DEFEATED THE PURPOSE OF OUR TRYING TO TAKE OVER CYBERTRON!"

He was very clever, but whenever things started going wrong, Astrotrain lost his mind. "We have our ringleader," Starscream proclaimed, an extraneous declaration since he was already being shot to pieces by his former army. The triple-changer crumpled to the ground, staring up at his Air Commander.

Megatron watched Starscream nudge what was left of the mech below him with his foot, inspiration striking quickly. "My beloved-" Ha! "Decepticons. As promised, I will honor your demands. You will be allotted another fifty percent energon!" This was met with a murmur of approval. "I will forgive and forget this incident." More heads nodded. "To prove that personal contact is not essential, and because of your willingness to uncover the voice that turned you against me, I will remain celibate as a covenant!"

"What about your consort?" Soundwave finally gained control over his rage and spoke.

"There is no need." Megatron stopped and considered this. "Traitors belong together. Astrotrain will be Starscream's consort. Congratulations." Starscream wanted to protest but ran out of time as Megatron called for all of them to return to base for their new energon rations.

"Who do you think won?" Wheeljack postulated as they drove from the fray.

"Megatron ALWAYS wins," Ratchet growled fiercely. "Those Decepticons are too stupid to realize when they're being manipulated."

"Unlike us," Tracks muttered, a little too loud. They ignored him.

"You know…" Bluestreak's wheels were turning quickly. "What would you do if we turned on you?"

"I thought you already had weekend plans!" Jazz protested.

"NO!" the Datsun laughed with the others. "I mean, yeah, I have plans, but-"

"You are asking hypothetically how Prime would react to usurpation?" Perceptor interrupted. He was riding with Wheeljack again.

"Yeah! I think." Perceptor's words required a dictionary.

Prime considered this for a few miles. "If The Matrix of Leadership found another, more worthy Autobot, then I would have to step down."

The engines of all of the surrounding cars hummed as they despondently considered this. Optimus not good enough…who could replace him? No one wanted to, even if they were worthy. How would they work with anybody else? Ultra Magnus might be the next Prime if something happened to Optimus, but that was another impulse best ignored. Bluestreak felt sorry he'd asked, since the thoughts this had produced were not ones he wished to indulge. Then Jazz spoke up.

"C'mon, Prime! We'd give you a decent severance package."

They cracked up.

Thus the order of the universe was restored.

The mech was a total mess. Soundwave beheld what was left of Astrotrain hastily being put together by a frantic Starscream with enough detachment to belie his still-simmering fury.

All this time Megatron's words promising SOUNDWAVE'S honor and glory had been lip service. He should have known. At no point in his long enlistment had the offer of consort ever been made. Had the tape player known it was an option he would have inveigled it out of their leader long ago. Now all he had was a larger energon ration and a heartbroken Ravage. He didn't want to think about Rumble and Frenzy.

"I have not had time to contemplate our means of rectifying the power shift the other Decepticons have gained," he rushed, twisting bolts and replacing parts as fast as he could. Hawkeye Pierce would have been proud. "I'm SURE you've considered a few options."

"Negative."

Astrotrain was losing a lot of fluids. Starscream changed a few pipes and conductors before asking if he had ANY plans. Soundwave did not.

"What kind of ally are you?" he finally demanded in exasperation.

"Not an ally."

His potential cohort had transformed into a large blue impediment to his doorway; one that required blasting if the shooter weren't elbow-deep in misfiring circuitry. "What of our bargain?"

The one obscuring the door gestured towards the conflagration on the table. "Ally bestowed, contract fulfilled."

The scene of their leader declaring that the two deserved each other flashed back into Starscream's processor. "You mean to tell me that YOU told Megatron to give me this traitor?"

"You're not the only one who can influence minds."

Starscream dropped his tools. "Out," he hissed, grabbing at them with slimy hands. "And speak of this to no one."

Outside of Starscream's lab Frenzy awaited with a message for Astrotrain on a CD. Soundwave didn't give him a backward glance.

"Boss!" he called a few minutes later. The cassette was ignored.

"BOSS!" He'd been joined by Rumble.

"C'mon, Soundwave! Don't be like that!"

"Do not speak to me," he retorted crisply.

They hurried at his feet, begging for a moment to explain their side of the story. He refused to acknowledge them. Rumble claimed that they did it for Frenzy, Frenzy added that they were doing it to improve the lives of every Decepticon, and that they didn't want to get him in trouble, since they knew he'd had a duty to rat them out, and-

"SILENCE!" he blasted, turning around to point an infuriated finger at them. "Apologies rejected. Rationale unacceptable."

Rumble and Frenzy exchanged glances as the tape player pressed his shoulder button and released one pathetic-looking tape.

Ravage looked at them with the fury of a being who'd been the victim of a prank. His red optics were flashing…but his shoulders drooped. Skywarp and Thundercracker popped around the corner and ducked away from the conflict before them, their movements tracked by Ravage's sleek black head.

Rumble and Frenzy knew immediately what Soundwave wanted them to do. Leave it to their master to demand an apology for someone who didn't deserve it, and if they didn't sound sincere enough for Ravage, Soundwave wouldn't forgive them either. They exchanged glances and knelt down, enveloping the cat in their arms. They pet him, scratched his ears, and told him he was a nice kitty.

"We're sorry, Ravage."

"We didn't realize that Skywarp would hurt you're feelings like that."

Frenzy, as usual, was over the top. "You know what? It's his loss, buddy. You're great."

"Yeah! We'll help you find somebody better. I got a cube with your name on it in my room. We'll drink 'til the whole thing's funny."

Ravage enjoyed the praise and forgave them. As for the energon…the cassettes glanced up hopefully.

Soundwave nodded.

"C'mon! Last one there's a rusty mackerel!" All three raced down the hall, joined by Buzzsaw and Laserbeak.

They were worse than a Brady Bunch episode. Another horrible thing he'd done with Megatron: watching earth television. Why had he done so many unappetizing things for this Decepticon if his repayment was to promise the foot soldiers the one thing Soundwave wanted?

He was at the throne room before he'd realized it. He couldn't stay away from Megatron. If he did, he could lose whatever advantage he still had. He couldn't lose his position. Soundwave had to fight for what he had, and for what he could get, because no Decepticon could accomplish what they truly desired unless they fought their own weaknesses and won. Megatron had taught him that.

Megatron…capricious at worst. Maliciously precise at best. He had backed down and given the rebels what they wanted to keep his army intact, but why he had imposed a physical tribute to rile them was beyond even Soundwave's empathetic abilities. He'd tried to kill Starscream one moment and rescued him the next; convinced the Dinobots to turn when he should have tried to destroy them and tried to destroy the Aerialbots when he should have recruited them, taken Prime apart but allowed him to function, imprisoned humans instead of genocide, etc. The list went on and on. Soundwave should question his leader's motives but it was hard to do when for every plan that didn't work on earth, three plans on Cybertron did. Shockwave reported an increasing number of victories accomplished from tactics their leader conceived while trapped on this planet. They were about to eradicate the Autobots entirely, except for the pitiful band that confounded them at every turn here. It was puzzling.

Should these spoils accumulate at the rate they were, Soundwave stood to inherit a large percentage of an empire; if he kept favor. As he stared at the throne room door the tape player determined that he would fight any upstart and keep what was his. All he had to do was continue to be the perfect accomplice.

The summons rang just as he opened the door. Megatron stood in front of the computer terminal, scheming. He beamed at his second-in-command.

"Ah, Soundwave! Excellent! I have a new plan…"

At least the tape player was a trustworthy associate. For now.

But the moment he could, like a true fighter, Soundwave would destroy anyone who got in his path. It was a good idea to remember that.

"Not again! Get this slag OFF of my television screen!" Sunstreaker bellowed, causing Sideswipe to jump, hastily hitting the stop button and losing whatever train of thought he had going. "Siders, what in the name of Primus are you doing here watching porn? You were supposed to go out on patrol with Trailbreaker two hours ago!"

"Slag!" Sideswipe grabbed the blaster out from under his bed, dashing for the door but not quite making it thanks to Sunstreaker's arm attempting a clothesline. "That doesn't work on me, loser!"

"I didn't do it for THAT reason, rust-for-brains. I want to ask you something."

"It'll have to wait, Prowl's got a left foot that'll be happy for days if it can kick my tailpipe." Still Sideswipe was blocked. "WHAT?" he demanded, finally halting his assault.

"Give me your cards."

If he could he would have blinked. "Why?"

"You know why." Sideswipe had to go cold turkey or he could never salvage his dignity. Sunstreaker didn't have to tell him this; the Lamborghini already knew, thus the stalling tactic. Sunny held his hand out expectantly. "C'mon, bro. You're getting later."

Sideswipe sighed in irritation and pulled video membership/credit cards out of subspace, tossing them at his brother.

"Sideswipe! Come in! Have you left yet?"

Sunstreaker waved his brother back. Sideswipe ran to pick up the line. "I'm right here, Jazz."

"I figured. I pulled a few strings so that you're not in trouble but we need a warm engine in the radio tower for a couple of hours. I don't think anybody will call but I need someone over here 'til four."

"Sure." Jazz must have done some juggling to get someone to cover him. Before he left he told Sunstreaker that he hoped he was happy.

"I'm not the one still crying over some guy I never liked in the first place," he replied.

"Frag you! I wasn't crying over Perceptor!"

Sunstreaker leaned his head out the doorway. "Who said anything about Perceptor?"

Sideswipe started, turned around, and stalked away, muttering. Sunny ran after him. Sideswipe dodged the slap to the back of his helmet he had correctly assumed was coming to him and turned to face his brother head-on.

"For Primus' sake Siders! Get OVER him already!" Sunny glared.

"You should talk!" His brother never really liked anybody, except for one, and he'd never really gotten past his annoyance that Hound would dare find someone more attractive than he.

"I just sent him out last night to make up with Mirage. I don't want to do this anymore and I decided I'm breaking a bad habit. Now it's your turn."

Sideswipe was not one to back away from a challenge. He would forget about Perceptor tonight. Did this mean they had to stop gluing him to the ceiling?

"Nah. That's too much fun."

"All right!" Sideswipe had to go, but felt a lot better.

Sunstreaker felt fantastic. He'd saved the day again! It's drinkin' time!

He had hoped to get out of the control room before Blaster and Steeljaw came in, but he'd wasted too much time talking to Sideswipe.

"Hi," the tape player greeted him glumly as he set up the next hour's radio tape.

"I was just making my exit," Jazz announced, trying to keep from meeting his optics .

Blaster sighed. "Ya got a minute?"

Jazz sighed too. "No."

"Hold up! Wait a minute! Jazz!" The Porsche glanced back expectantly. "Man, I'm sorry."

Jazz bit back a 'you should be' and replied "Past star systems, Blaster."

"You weren't boring."

Jazz grinned, not feeling the expression but trying to keep some semblance of grace. "I know that."

"And you're right. I took your idea."

It's easy to apologize for public wrongdoing in private. Still, Jazz had lost the desire to mull over past transgressions. "You guys took what I had and made it into something bigger. You raised a lot of money. Nothin' wrong with that."

"I'm sorry we gave you a hard time."

He could feel his patience slipping. "You were under a lot of pressure. It's okay."

Blaster smiled stiffly, glancing at the anxious Steeljaw and looking back at Jazz with the same level of worry. "The real reason I had to split…" He twisted his hands nervously. "I had to. Tracks needed me."

"That's cool." Jazz just wanted to get out of here.

"No, it's not." He presented a datapad with an announcement all would hear in a few moments: leaves were officially permitted again, beginning with Tracks and Blaster's request to go to Raul's funeral in New York.

"We're too late. They already buried him, but T's talking about doing a memorial service."

Jazz hadn't even realized that was going on. "What happened?" Once the story had been told, the next reaction was "but that was the week before…" The week before Blaster had broken up with him!

"Yeah. He was a wreck after Prime made him come back here, and one night we were just hanging out and he totally lost it. I hugged him and it sort of went a different direction from there." Blaster grimaced apologetically. "After that, I couldn't stay with you, man. It wasn't fair."

"But you don't think of him that way!"

"He needed me, I helped him out, it's what friends do. No biggie."

Jazz thought it was. Tracks' need to for comfort had hurt a few others in the process, and the pool would more than likely expand before this whole ordeal was forgotten; however….

Blaster still stared at him hopefully as he pondered all of this.

However, if one of Jazz's closest friends had been in the same predicament, he would have done the same thing. He would have been there, he would have understood, he would have done the honorable thing and broken off whatever he had with someone else after a physical interaction. He would help out his extremely distressed best friend, even if he had to scramble to think up a pretty elaborate distraction; like a roller-skating basketball event. The thought made him chuckle. Blaster had apologized to him and meant it. The resentment melted.

"No biggie," he finally replied, smiling. All was forgiven. "Like I said, Blaster, past star systems." They shook hands before going back to work.

Blaster felt the bite of regret as the saboteur jauntily walked away. That mech had class.

Hound eyed Sunstreaker downing yet another glass of spiked energon. He looked like he'd been there for hours. "Hey, Sunny."

Sunstreaker swayed. "I see three o' you, and I think I like it! Ooh, stood up too fast." He faltered, staggered, and fell. Hound caught him and Sunny found himself looking deep into those friendly, familiar blue optics he loved to be under.

To the Jeep's credit he didn't smirk. "Sunny…do you want to get out of here?"

He had no idea why he was drunk or why inebriation made temptation easy to obey. "Pittya!"

"This way." He guided the staggering mech out. "What was the occasion?"

"Siders quit watchin' porn," Sunstreaker called jubilantly.

"Good job," Hound purred condescendingly. "I think you should celebrate."

"I did." His legs wobbled as he reconsidered his companion. "But I wouldn't mind getting laid. It's been awhile."

Aha! "I think I can help you out there."

Sunny smiled, giggling over some unspoken joke. "Let's go."

"Jazz! Come in Jazz!'

Fuzz fuzz fuzz fuzz fuzz Ultra Magnus fuzz fuzz fuzz Ultra Magnus fuzz Ultra Magnus waver Ultra Magnus-

"This is Sideswipe, reading you clearer than before!" This was the carrier's second attempt to contact the Autobots in two hours.

"Sideswipe?" He sounded slightly disappointed. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Jazz."

Innocent enough mistake. Sideswipe asked what he could do for the Cybertron branch of Prime's army.

"I was-uh-" He hesitated. "I wanted to ask Jazz about…something we talk about."

"If it's top secret I can't do anything. Jazz is helping somebody else right now."

"Oh. I just wondered-how-Tracks is doing."

"Tracks?" That was a strange question. Sunstreaker had told him about putting all of the clues together and realizing that Ultra Magnus missed his Corvette friend, but because it was not uppermost on the Lamborghini's processor he really did not consider this a normal query. "Tracks is fine." He shrugged. "He's going to New York again. Spends all his time with Blaster."

"Blaster?"

Ultra Magnus sounded confused over this. If the reception were better Sideswipe would have seen the hurt look a little better and realized what he'd done, but he was still thinking about ways to get back at Perceptor.

"Yeah. They're always kissing and snuggling and being disgusting, it makes me glad they're both leaving for awhile, just so we don't have to look at them."

"Blaster," he repeated faintly.

"Yeah. The tape player. Bright red. Likes humans. They're perfect for each other." What was wrong with this guy?

"Right." He had a face like a carved statue. "Tell Prime that we have to move again and will contact him when we've settled."

"Sure."

"Ultra Magnus out." His vocalizer wavered and he quickly turned away from the screen, hiding his face, before the shot went back to fuzz.

At that exact moment what Sideswipe had just said hit him like a charging Motormaster. "Oh no," he said, sitting down. "What did I do?"

Not thinking about Perceptor was as difficult as trying not to think about a pink turbo fox. There! He did it again! Anybody would.

Sideswipe sighed. Usually when he wanted to forget about something he picked up a new obsession, like this pornography addiction. It hadn't been a bad distraction, until he was putting Perceptor in those pictures instead. Then it only exacerbated the problem.

Maybe he needed a better distraction.

"Hey Siders!" It was Jazz. "How did radio duty go?"

"Bad." He detailed his mess-up. "I think I got you in trouble."

"No. Somebody else isn't gonna be happy." He should be mad, but instead he felt sadder than anything. Blaster's misery would be unequivocal when he heard the tape and witnessed Tracks falling apart at Ultra Magnus' knowing. They both sighed, for different reasons.

"Sunny called off the dating thing after bumping windshields with Hound. I thought I'd warn you. He's still recovering in our room."

Again, Jazz felt no annoyance at this. They had to end the charade sooner or later. "You're done too, then, Sideswipe. Thanks for your help." He meant it. They had been terrific.

Sideswipe glanced at him. Jazz was alone, there was no porn to watch, and Sunny would need a nap after his encounter with Hound. "Not quite," he replied, reaching for the Porsche and enveloping him into his arms. "I think I owe you a severance package."

Astrotrain came online to a massive pain in his database. He felt fuzzy. His wrists and ankles hurt, too. Why was he tied down?

"What happened?"

Starscream glared at him. "You defied Megatron, you were shot to pieces, I brought you back to functioning, and now he has a message for you." Starscream pressed play and smiled to himself as Astrotrain discovered that he was the loyal, reinstated Air Commander's newest slave indefinitely.

"Because you did not consider me a worthy master, you are now controlled by Starscream! Should you disobey, the restraining bolt somewhere in your circuits will fry you to a crisp!" Megaton chortled with a long-forgotten triumph over giving this news.

Astrotrain gulped. The darkness was descending on him as Starscream's shadow obscured the light.

"It's time to pay homage to your master," he growled.

He didn't have much to pack. Another black beam gun, some money, Raul's favorite Hot Rod magazine, nothing much. His door swung open and Blaster stood in the doorway with a tape in his hand.

"For me?" he asked. He'd almost forgotten that he hadn't heard from Ultra Magnus in awhile. The mech had slowly faded from his memory, but hearing from him was like hearing from a long-lost family member. Tracks was sure Blaster was just a distraction, a mistake that would be quickly rectified. Ultra Magnus was the real thing. Some day he'd tell him the truth, when they met again. He'd understand Tracks' motivation, he always did.

Blaster's face did not change. He tossed the tape onto Tracks' desk and it landed with a thunk.

"We need to talk," he said.

To Be Continued...