((I had a huge amount of trouble with this... OP doesn't seem to be the kind of guy who succumbs to greed.

Word of warning, this is a bit of a crackfic.

I don't own TF, btw. Neither do I own the game mentioned in this chapter...))

------

Greedy

"Why haven't we seen Prime at all today?" Bumblebee asked. "He's usually up and about by now. Where is he? I've got a scouting report that's got to be turned in right away..."

Wheeljack petted the yellow mini-bot on the head. "Long story, 'Bee. Now, listen close..."

10 hours ago...

A notice went out among all crew members of the Ark: Keg party in half an hour. There'll be high grade, a Heroes of Might and Magic 3 tournament, high grade, and did I forget to mention that there will be high grade?

Being a fan of every type of strategy game, Optimus decided not to miss out. And besides, there was high grade involved.

45 minutes later...

By now, he was glad that he had come. The high grade was good - in fact it was the best high grade he had ever tasted in a long, long time. It was the kind of stuff where once you took a sip, you just had to have more.

An hour later...

"I propose a drinking game," Optimus suggested, his disturbingly cheerful mood due to no less than four cubes of high-grade. "Whenever Jazz uses a lame-aft tactic, everyone present takes a drink."

"We'll all be over-energized out of our wits within five minutes," Ratchet remarked dryly.

Jazz looked up from his computer terminal. "Hey!"

Another hour later...

"Are you sure you want to go up against Prowl?" Bluestreak asked, almost bouncing up and down on his feet from excitement. "You're looking kind of intoxicated and usually when you're intoxicated it's a bad idea to do anything which requires a lot of strategy because when you're intoxicated it makes you do stupid things -"

"I'm perfectly fine, Bluestreak." Optimus patted him on the shoulder and downed another cube of high grade.

Half an hour later...

"Ouch." Sideswipe winced in sympathy.

"That can't be good," Mirage observed.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," Wheeljack said happily.

Ratchet shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when Prime offered an ordinary computer a cube of high grade..."

"...And pour the high grade into the keyboard when it didn't reply." Bluestreak shivered. "I didn't think it would explode like that..."

Another hour later...

"I told you, I'm perfectly fine..."

Despite his stubborn denial, anyone could tell that Optimus was way too over-energized for his own good. His optics were unfocused and he seemed certain that Ironhide was a seat of some sort.

"If you're perfectly fine, I'm a monkey's uncle." Ratchet gently tugged on Prime's arm. "Come on. Let's get you to your room..."

Optimus produced a banana from his subspace pocket and offered it to the CMO.

Twenty minutes later...

"Perhaps... you're right," the Autobot leader mumbled to an old dent in the wall. "I have had enough for one night." He picked up a half-empty cube of high grade and stared thickly at it before setting it down on one of the three tables next to him.

The cube crashed to the floor, spilling its contents.

"Where'd the tables go?" Optimus asked. "There were three of them..."

"Alright, you." Ratchet gave him a firm shove towards the exit. "Bed. Now. You're going to offline yourself at this rate."

"Yessir," the poor over-energized mech replied, ambling unsteadily towards his room.

Clank! He missed the exit entirely, colliding head-on with the wall.

-----

((Meh. Not really my best work... Hopefully, the next one won't be this mind-boggling to write.))