"Is daw puddy tat afwaid of water? Awww, he is?"
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Title: Best Served
Warning: Backhanded revenge?
Rating: G
Continuity: G1
Characters: Ravage, Sideswipe, Ironhide
Disclaimer: The theatre doesn't own the script or actors, nor does it make a profit from the play.
Motivation (Prompt): Water
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Sideswipe loved it when the Decepticons screwed themselves over. He could pound and pummel all he liked, but nothing beat the humiliation scored when a Decepticon got himself well and truly hoisted by his own petard. Starscream was like an ongoing demonstration of this(1). Some days, Sideswipe himself pulled a demonstration. The other Autobots took pictures.
Ahem. Yes, well. It was more satisfying when a Decepticon did it.
The grudging blip blip of an emergency beacon stopped Sideswipe so abruptly his tires skidded grooves in the dirt. Decepticon emergency beacon = get the camera prepped. He transmitted his location and took off toward the signal. The battle over the power station had ended only two hours ago. It was a good bet that whoever was calling for help was badly damaged and willing to be rescued by whomever got there first. Sideswipe, cheap Polaroid in hand(2), was going to be there first. He had to get his laughs in.
And actually rescue Ravage while he was at it. But laughing came first. Lots of laughing.
Ravage hissed static miserably at him from the middle of the river. The water was muddy and turbulent, churned to liquid dirt from the fight upstream, and the tiny technimal crouched in the middle of an eroding island. His propulsion system smoked along his side, so much scrap metal, and the choice was obviously the water or rescue. He'd chosen rescue.
Sideswipe rested his hands on his knees and wheezed, laughing so hard his vocalizer reset with every hitch of air intake. "Whazza'matter, kitty? Afraid of water?" the Autobot managed to get out after far too long. "Poor widdle kitty." He pointed, finger shaking as he broadcasted the perfect cartoon clip to everyone within range. "I tawt I taw a puddy tat! I did, I did! I taw a puddy tat!" Oh, this was awesome, this was brilliant, and he was never, ever going to let Ravage forget this. "Is daw puddy tat afwaid of water? Awww, he is?"
*"I am not,*" Ravage growled in his oddly high, light voice.
*"Just get him into custody,"* Prowl said, resigned to Sideswipe's personal brand of amusement. *"Can you transport him as he is?"*
Sideswipe eyed the technimal's fully functional claws. "Hey, puddy tat. I'm not touchin' you unless you transform."
Ravage bared nice, sharp teeth in his direction, knowing exactly what he wanted. Having a dangerous Cassetticon free to shred his interior wasn't a pleasant thought for the Lamborghini. *"Do I look like I can transform? What gears aren't blown out of alignment are locked up with organic filth."*
*"I'm on my way,"* Ironhide interjected immediately, and Ravage's audio receivers folded back flat. Sideswipe, the Decepticon would rip up because, well, even Optimus Prime understood that kind of damage after surrender into custody was just payback for petty, juvenile slag. Ironhide was Official Officer Material. The rulebook would smackdown any Decepticon who tried any tomfoolery in his custody.
Sideswipe grinned at him. His hands were fair game if he tried reaching for Ravage before Ironhide got there, and they both knew it. It was an amiable agreement: touch the annoyed Decepticon and die, fragger. But the Autobot could take as many pictures as he wanted. In fact, he was under orders from Ratchet to take a look at the technimal from every angle. "Smile for the camera, Decepta-puddy tat!" Ravage hissed again. "Good one! Give the water another hiss, wouldya?" Sideswipe chortled, waving the newest picture through the air to speed-dry. "I can't believe you're afraid of water. What, do ya think you're gonna rust?"
The muted roar of Ironhide's engine was drawing near, and Ravage's optics slitted into evil crimson lines. *"I am not afraid of water,"* he repeated, and his audio receivers suddenly stood straight up as if inspiration had struck him from on high. *"Your medic. Ratchet. He's to repair me, yes?"*
*"Of course I will,"* Ratchet put in. *"We're not Decepticons to leave prisoners unrepaired."*
Optimus Prime interrupted before the provocative statement could start a fight. *"You will be cared for, Ravage. We're well aware that Megatron will negotiate for your release, and it is the Autobot belief that even prisoners have basic rights for access to maintenance care and a pain-free existence."*
*"I thank you for your consideration,"* Ravage replied with a kind of stiff formality, *"and I feel that as a Decepticon surrendering to your faction, you should be aware that I find it necessary to defend my pride at this moment from allegations of cowardice."*
There was a beat of silence. Sideswipe tensed into a fighting stance. Ironhide's engine suddenly accelerated.
Ravage gathered himself into a fang-bared crouch — and leapt off the island.
The water engulfed him whole.
Sideswipe went from battle-ready to dumbfounded in a record nano-second. Optics blown wide, he gaped like a fish at the river. "Um…"
The silence over the Autobot channels spat static as realization dawned over all them. Ravage was a reasonable creature, if nasty when cornered. He wouldn't attack Sideswipe, and if he had, the large red frontliner would have responded with more than a numb single syllable. Meaning that something had happened that was probably deserved. *"What did he do?"* Prowl asked.
Too shocked to be less than honest, Sideswipe said, "He sank." Then he added, because even he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of the completely obvious, "Y'know. Little cat, made of metal, jumps in deep water. He sinks. Makes sense."
Ironhide pulled up beside him and transformed. They both looked down at the river, which continued to rush by in a earthy tangle of whole trees, froth, and even a few dead critters. It was literally so much mud. "He's not going to be getting out of that by himself," Ironhide decided. "It was a deep river even before we fought in it. There's gotta be a good two or three meters of liquid muck on the bottom. He's probably lodged up to his tailtip in it." He gave Sideswipe a meaningful look. "I'm not going to be the one digging him out."
Sideswipe thought about it. He winced. His hands were going to be in Ravage's range, one way or another.
Ironhide's look blackened. "And there's no way we can rinse him off before stuffing him in me for transport, either."
Sideswipe winced again. Grubbing up Ironhide? Awwww, slaggit. The weaponsmaster was going to make him pay for this…
The Autobot channel clicked open, and the gathering storm of static over the line indicated a medic's temper on the verge of exploding. *"Let me get this straight. A mech with already exposed injuries just jumped into a soup of grit and grime to further mire his insides in dirt that I will now have to clean out?"* Sideswipe meeped a tentative sound of agreement back. Ratchet gave a Ravage-worthy growl. *"Consider yourself on the floor-scrubbing roster indefinitely, scrapheap!"*
Sideswipe sighed. "Yes, sir."
*"That cat had better be in my medbay by the end of the shift, or I'll repaint you fuchsia. With housepaint."*
Sideswipe just made a face. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir." The channel clicked closed with an air of finality, the other Autobots respectfully letting that end the matter(3). Sideswipe knelt down, expression long-suffering, to begin fishing Ravage out of the mud. A set of teeth clamping onto a fingertip would be his first clue that he'd found the little fragger.
He stubbornly didn't look up at Ironhide. The other Autobot had a camera out.
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Footnotes
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(1)Swindle came in close second, but Sideswipe had slightly more sympathy for the conniving trader. At least the jeep occasionally had to call for help because of something he genuinely hadn't been responsible for. The humans sometimes won their ongoing competition with the Decepticon faction for Most Traitorous Bastards. Even Prowl had patted the trader's shoulder (gingerly, either from inexperience or fear of conmech-contamination) after the rescue mission that had freed Swindle from a secret agency billing itself as 'Sector Seven.' The Autobots still hadn't found out exactly what that was all about. Red Alert periodically contacted Swindle on the down-low for updates on anything further that the thoroughly traumatized Decepticon could recall.
(2)Weird but true: Polaroid cameras could survive anything thrown at them once Wheeljack got done modifying them for 'bot-sized use. They were so primitive that they frustrated the best efforts of Lazerbeak, and the photopapers could be hidden in any armor crevasse available. At this point in the war on Earth, if turned upside-down and shaken, Sideswipe would likely rain incriminating pictures.
(3)The Autobots didn't precisely fear Ratchet, but they knew there was a time and a place to get the frag out of his way. The Ark's medical officer wasn't known for his violence, but he was known for creative vengeance. Worse, for those stupid enough to cross him, he had the glacial patience of a mech who knew they all had to come back to medbay eventually. Heh heh heh…