O================================O
"Battle Simulation" Rules and Regulations:
The following are a set of guidelines to be strictly followed while participating in the ongoing "Battle Simulation." An infraction of any of these rules will be considered an offense and the perpetrator will be punished accordingly. This list is susceptible to modification in the future.
1. Absolutely no weapons or weapon-like devices are to be used on fellow soldiers. If a device that looks like, functions as, or in any way resembles a weapon of any kind is used on another Autobot, the device will be confiscated and the action treated as a criminal offense.
2. No damage is to be done to the Ark. If you purposefully cause damage of any sort, or if somebody else causes damage on accident or in self-defense as a result of your prank, you will be fiscally responsible for the damages. If the exact cause of the damage is unclear, the case is liable for further examination.
3. Breaking and entering another's living quarters or office space is not allowed. Keep the pranks in a public setting.
3a. This rule applies to Wheeljack's lab as well. His lab is cluttered enough as it is, you don't need to add to it. And remember, he is your supplier, never compromise your supplier.
4. Do not tamper with another's personal systems or devices, which include internal comm-links and other related systems.
5. Optimus Prime is a busy mech and doesn't need to be bothered with the knowledge of this "Battle Simulation." Do not relay any relevant information of this simulation to him. Although no punishment will be attached to this rule, breaking it may cause the simulation to be terminated.
6. Rubber ducks are now banned from the Ark.
A violation of a rule that was committed before said rule was created will not be susceptible to punishment; however any Autobot who violates a rule on or after the date it was written will be punished.
Please refer to Prowl if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.
O================================O
Prowl had wasted no time writing those rules since his talk with Jazz the previous day, and he had promptly sent it out to every Autobot he knew to be involved in the pranking. Thus, quite a few Autobots woke up from recharge the next morning with this data file waiting to be read. Two certain Lamborghinis were not pleased about the new rule book.
"What?! This isn't fair! He can't just go and write rules for this!" Sideswipe exclaimed as he read through the short document on a data pad. He was sitting in the rec room taking his morning Energon rations with his brother, who was also not so pleased with the development.
"He's trying to take control, like he always does," the golden twin growled.
"That slagger, he's not getting away with this! Come on Sunny, let's go have a little chat with Prowl." With that Sideswipe leapt from the table and hurried out of the room. Sunstreaker downed the last of his Energon before following his brother into the hallway at a more moderate pace.
The twins made a beeline for the tactician's office, barreling past any mechs that got in the way of their mission. As soon as they made it to the appropriate door, Sideswipe pounded on it until he received permission to enter. When the door unlocked, the frontliner barged into the room.
"This!" he shouted as Prowl glanced up from behind his desk. He held up the data pad with the offending rules displayed and pointed to it aggressively. "This is an outrage!"
Prowl cocked an optic ridge, doorwings twitching. "How so, Sideswipe?"
Sunstreaker entered the room just then and the door closed behind the two raging Lamborghinis. The potentially dangerous situation would make most self-respecting mechs at least a little nervous, but Prowl's dealt with the twins for long enough that it hardly bothered him anymore. He calmly watched the red mech as he began his rant. "You can't just go and write rules for the prank war! It's... it's... you just can't do it! The whole point of this thing is that there ARE no rules!"
"There are rules for everything," was Prowl's dry response.
"You're just afraid of getting your aft whooped, and you're trying to control the game!" Sideswipe retorted.
"No," Prowl said sternly as he flared his doorwings ever so slightly. "I'm trying to make sure this stays safe. Have you forgotten that you are part of a fully functioning army? We need to be battle ready at all times, and it is my job to make sure that we are. I will continue to play along with your game, but my top priority is to the Autobots as a functioning, military unit. As should be yours."
"Psht," Sideswipe was not impressed by Prowl's speech. "Like you said, we're an army! We can handle a few 'weapon-like devices' or a little 'breaking and entering,'" he said as he turned the data pad around and perused it. "We're not newly-sparks who need all the safety settings turned on!
"No, you're not newly-sparks, you're highly specialized, mature soldiers. Soldiers who are trained to instantly react to potentially dangerous situations. There's a reason why the safety settings are turned on during training sessions. You should know that."
Sideswipe snorted while Sunstreaker continued to glare by the door. "I still think you're just trying to save your own hide. Well, since when have Sunny or I followed the rules? Don't expect us to do the same here." Sideswipe then threw the data pad he had been holding onto Prowl's desk with a clatter. He turned and left the office without another word, Sunstreaker following close behind.
Prowl stared at the closed door for a moment before looking down at the new data pad decorating his desk. He released a pent up vent, doorwings drooping slightly in resignation. He'd expected this; he didn't write those rules specifically for the twins, and he never really believed that another rule book was enough to tame them. He just hoped that Jazz was being more successful on his own mission.
o~o~o
The saboteur in question was, in fact, having a delightful time. It was that time of the year again and Ratchet was busy out hunting down all the 'Bots who were avoiding their checkup appointments, so while First Aid was out gathering some supplies from the storage room, Jazz was free to do whatever he wanted inside the medbay. Once he was done, and after having properly tampered with the security cameras (Red wasn't going to be happy about this either!), he snuck out of the CMO's workplace with a barely contained snicker. If all goes to plan, which it usually does with him, there was going to be one POed CMO in the next half hour, and he wasn't planning on seeing it firsthand.
o~o~o
As he stalked the hallways, Ratchet consulted a data pad that contained all the names of the mechs who had missed their appointments this morning. He'd seen to several 'Bots already, but there were a few that, for whatever reason, had skipped out. And Ratchet had zero tolerance for no-shows.
The first mech on his list should be easy to find, because according to the work schedule he was between shifts at the moment. At this time of the day, which was around noon, the most common place for a mech between shifts to be was the rec room. As he made his way towards his destination, he encountered several strange incidents. He passed a disgruntled Hoist who appeared to be dripping multicolored paint from several joints over his body, and Cliffjumper who was seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was a giant bumper sticker on his backside with a peace sign and that read "Guns Kill People." Despite giving Hoist a suspicious look, he completely ignored the incidents. He was well aware of the events taking place on the Ark, and he had absolutely no interest in participating. Right now he was on a strictly business related mission.
As soon as he reached the recreation room he poked his head inside and scanned the area. His missing patient was not to be found. Frowning in disgruntlement, the medic pulled his head back into the hallway. He tried calling the mech over the comm., but his hail wasn't accepted. Of course. Thinking, Ratchet came up with another idea as of the whereabouts of this mech; he was a minibot and there was one place the minibots liked to hang out. Confident, Ratchet then set out with his new destination in mind.
Way in the back of the Ark, in what used to be a small utility room connected to one of the much larger engine rooms, was what the minibots' have turned into their own personal hangout space. To a normal mech it was a little small, perhaps just a little larger than the largest personal quarters onboard, but to a minibot it was perfectly sized. There were eleven Earth minibots total, but with Cosmos always gone and not all of the minibots usually present at once, the room was just the right size to fit a handful of them who were looking for refuge from the daily routine of the Ark. Like the dinobots' lair, the minibots have claimed this space as their own.
The minibots' room was currently inhabited by Huffer, Brawn, Windcharger, and Gears. Enjoying their peace and quiet, the four were unpleasantly surprised when a white and grey, chevron adorned head poked into their sanctuary and shouted at one mech in particular – "BRAWN!" All four minibots jumped upon hearing the shout and turned to see who had disturbed their peace.
"Aw Ratchet," Brawn grumbled. "Give it a rest, will ya?"
Frowning deeply and growling with displeasure, the CMO stalked into the room and pointed a wrench at his patient threateningly. "You, medbay, now!" he articulated gruffly.
"Come on, I don't need a checkup. I feel fine!" Brawn protested.
"I don't care if you feel like prancing through a field of daisies! You will report for your appointment or so help me I will drag you there by your heels!" the angry medic retorted.
Brawn frowned and looked down into his cube of Energon, but a quick glance at his fellow minibots revealed to him that the others were looking at him somewhat accusingly.
"Come on Brawn, just get on with it," Huffer voiced the others' thoughts. "He won't go away until you do."
Brawn glared at the other mech, but once he realized that he was right, he released a growling sigh of consent. He downed his Energon in one swig before slamming the cube back down onto the table and standing up. "Fine, let's get this over with," he grumbled as he walked past the CMO.
"Go straight to the medbay and stay there! I'll be with you shortly." Ratchet commanded before turning back into the room. He waved his wrench at Huffer this time. "Don't get so cocky, you have an appointment with me this afternoon, and I expect you to be there on time!" With that Ratchet finally turned and left the room, not bothering to see Huffer's look of trepidation at the confrontation.
As he was stalking back through the hallways, Ratchet received a hail from First Aid. Accepting the hail, he growled into the comm., "What is it First Aid?"
"Um, well, sir have you been in the medbay lately?" First Aid's somewhat nervous reply filtered into the CMO's internal audios.
"Not since about 10:30, why?" Ratchet responded suspiciously.
"Well, it's just, I just came back with those supplies you wanted, and well..."
"Spit it out, Aid," Ratchet growled.
"Um, I think you need to see it for yourself," First Aid responded.
Ratchet sighed. "I'm heading that way anyway, I'll be there shortly."
"Okay, First Aid out," his apprentice responded before cutting the link.
Ratchet's frown only deepened. Checkup time was a stressful time for him anyway, and he really didn't feel like putting up with whatever this new development was. But there was nothing for him to do but see what it is and deal with it however he could.
He had been planning on hunting down a few more of his missing patients, but having wrangled one already, and since the next shift was about to start and with First Aid's vague message, he decided it might be best to just head down to the medbay right away. And so that's what he did.
Brawn must have made good time getting to the medbay, because he was already waiting for the CMO when he arrived. The minibot was sitting on a medical berth, looking around the room appraisingly, while First Aid fidgeted with a data pad, also looking around but a bit more nervous. Ratchet, for his part, immediately stood stock still when he entered the room, sensing that something was majorly off. As he looked around, searching for the source of his discomfort, Brawn looked up at him. "So you finally straightened this place up, huh? Looks good," he said.
That was it; that was the problem! All of his tools, his precious tools, they had been... organized! Straightened, put in their place, uncluttered. Whereas normally Ratchet kept his supplies stored somewhat haphazardly in treys and drawers, organized by what they were used for, they were now laid out in neat rows and grouped together by size and shape. How was he ever going to work like this! Ratchet turned a smoldering glare to his apprehensive apprentice. "First Aid! Did you do this?!" he nearly shouted.
The small Protectobot flinched slightly before shaking his head vigorously. "No! No I didn't! I just came back from getting those supplies and it was like this, I swear! And, um, Ratchet sir, look," First Aid then said before reaching for one of the tools near him. He grabbed a welder and appeared to try to pull it off the table, but with no success. Confused and looking just a little bit more peeved, Ratchet stormed over to where First Aid was and grabbed the same welder. He too tried to pry it off of the table, but it was absolutely stuck to the surface and it would not budge. Ratchet tried to grab the next tool nearby, and then the next, and the next. None of them would move.
Ratchet again turned a smoldering glare onto his underling. "What the frag happened here?!"
First Aid was now practically hiding behind his data pad. "I – I don't know sir!" he stuttered.
The CMO was about to explode again when he heard the sound of laughter coming from behind him. Ratchet whirled around to find that Brawn was having a hard time containing his mirth. "Oh man Ratchet, it looks like you've been pranked!" he said between fits of laughter.
Optics now bulging, Ratchet lifted up one foreboding arm and pointed towards the door. "Out!" He growled.
Brawn managed to hold back his laughter long enough to look at the medic and respond. "Does this mean I'm not getting that checkup?"
"NOW!"
All humor lost, the minibot scrambled off the berth and hurried out the door. Snarling, Ratchet reached over and attempted to grab a wrench from the tabletop next to him. When the wrench wouldn't give, Ratchet resorted to grabbing the entire table and throwing it across the room instead. He turned back to First Aid, who really was hiding behind his data pad now and staring at his superior officer with a wide optic band. Once again the CMO pointed his arm of doom towards the door. "Get Wheeljack," he commanded.
First Aid bobbed his head obediently. "Yes sir," he squeaked before he too scurried towards the door.
"And tell him to bring his solvent!" Ratchet shouted after his apprentice. Once the Protectobot was gone, he turned back to his vandalized medbay. Kicking a table in frustration, he sat down on a berth to further glare around the room.
o~o~o
When Wheeljack poked his head into the medbay about five minutes later, he found Ratchet attempting to pry his tools off of the table and counter tops. It appeared he had gotten a few off, but nothing more. When the medic spied the engineer, he straightened and turned a wrathful glare onto the mech. "Wheeljack, explain this!" he demanded as he waved around a scalpel he had pried loose earlier.
"Um, I can't," the engineer said sheepishly as he entered the room, carrying several bottles of his special solvent in his arms. He looked around as he set the bottles down. "Wow, somebody really did clean this place up, huh?" he commented, head fins flashing curiously.
"Yes, and they used your special glue to do it! So who did you give it to!?" Ratchet accused vehemently.
"Nobody! I swear!" Wheeljack said, putting his arms up defensively.
"Well, this is your glue holding my tools down, isn't it?" Ratchet asked.
"Um, well," Wheeljack stammered as he tried and failed to lift up a tool from the table next to him. "I suppose it is."
"Did you check your supplies? Somebody probably stole from you then!" The CMO retorted.
"Nobody stole from me! How can you say that?! That's... oh," suddenly Wheeljack grabbed both bottles of solvent from the table, realizing that there had been only two on his shelves, not three like there was supposed to have been.
Ratchet couldn't help but smirk at the look of sudden realization that had dawned on the engineer's face. "How many times have I told you to keep a lock on your supplies?"
"Hey, my lab wasn't just broken into and vandalized!" Wheeljack objected.
"Um, it was broken into," Ratchet retorted, indicating the bottles of solvent in the engineer's hands.
Wheeljack's head fins flashed unhappily. He set his bottles back onto the table and crossed his arms sullenly. "How could my lab have been broken into if there's no lock to it?" he asked.
The CMO glared daggers at the engineer. "Don't get smart with me, 'Jack!" he said as he suddenly grabbed the solvent from the table. Shoving one of the bottles back into Wheeljack's hands, Ratchet pushed him towards a table of glued down tools. "And you're going to help me clean this place up, so get busy!"
"Hey, why do I have to help? I didn't do it!" the engineer protested.
"Because you're one of the ones who instigates this ridiculous prank fight! You're helping. First Aid!" Ratchet suddenly snapped his fingers at the small mech who had been standing by the doorway during the entire exchange.
The Protectobot medic scurried over to Ratchet's side with a short "yes sir?"
"Get some regular solvent and some rags, you'll help clean off these tools," the CMO commanded.
"Yes sir," First Aid repeated before hurrying over to some storage cabinets near the edge of the room.
Silence descended upon the trio as they each got to work. The silence was punctuated occasionally by the clatter of Ratchet furiously throwing his tools down in piles as he worked them loose.
"First Aid!" the CMO suddenly exclaimed after another moment of relative quietness.
"Yes sir?" the small medic piped up.
"When we're done, reschedule the appointments of those who've missed their checkups."
"Yes sir."
"Make sure they get notices of their rescheduled appointments."
"Yes sir."
"And put this solvent on the list of supplies to be shipped in from Cybertron."
"Yes sir."
"Make sure you get those table tops cleaned too."
"Yes sir.
"And FRAGGIT when I find out who did this they're going to pay!"
Wheeljack looked sidelong at the CMO who had just exploded. "Seriously, you have no idea who did this?" he asked skeptically.
"No! Because with all of these infernal pranks going on it could have been anybody!" Ratchet ranted.
"Why don't you check the security cameras?" Wheeljack suggested.
"I already contacted Red Alert," Ratchet replied furiously. "The security feed's been tampered with."
"Hm, well you know Red Alert's been helping Sideswipe and Sunstreaker lately," First Aid suddenly interjected. Ratchet and Wheeljack both turned to stare at the small Protectobot, who hunched his shoulders slightly at the sudden scrutiny from his superior officers. "Just saying," he muttered before getting back to his work.
"So what? I'm supposed to blame Red Alert for this?!" Ratchet exclaimed.
Sudden amusement flashed across Wheeljack's face as he turned to the CMO. "Heh, it looks like with nobody to blame, everybody's to blame, right?"
At that statement Ratchet just stared at the engineer, optics narrowed in thought. Suddenly a not-so-nice grin split the CMO's face. First Aid and Wheeljack exchanged a look, the Protectobot's optic band widening and the engineer's head fins dimming in trepidation as they both realized what had just been suggested.
o~o~o
Checkups with Ratchet were never gentle or soft or kind in any way. The mech was all about business inside his medical bay, and so when you're there all he wants to do is get you fixed and out of there as soon as possible. He was quick and efficient and although it's normal to walk away from his appointments a little stiff and sore, that was usually the extent of the side effects. Usually. Because if Ratchet decided that things had gotten personal between him and a patient, and not in a good way, he was perfectly capable of dropping his professional demeanor in favor of a much harsher disposition. Some would even say sadistic. Because his medbay was, after all, his domain. And with the recent invasion of his domain, things had just gotten personal, very personal, between him and everyone.
By the time Ratchet had gotten through all his checkups with the Ark crew, several days had passed. And there wasn't a single mech that wasn't worse for wear from it. Not a drop of numbing agent had been used while he had given them their shots with the largest needles he owned in the least comfortable spots on their chassis. He had not skimped out on using excessive force to keep his patients from flinching. And while originally these checkups were supposed to have been very minimal and routine, Ratchet had opted to perform all of the most uncomfortable and invasive scans and inspections possible on every single 'Bot. And if anybody had tried to hide from their appointment with him... well, rumor has it the CMO really did drag Brawn to the medbay by his heels.
Word of the prank that had been done to Ratchet had quickly spread throughout the Ark. Thus, just about everybody knew why they were being treated in such a manner, even before Ratchet had sent out a warning message telling everybody that if such a thing were to ever happen again, he would not hesitate to schedule follow-up appointments. That was enough to scare most mechs from conducting any more pranks for at least the time being.
Overall it felt as if the residents of the Ark had just gone through a battle with the Decepticons instead of a round of regular checkups with their CMO. As Jazz ambled into the rec room late one evening, the dismal mood was palpable. He slowly wandered over to where Blaster was sitting and staring into a cube of Energon.
"Ooow, man," Jazz groaned as he plopped down into an empty chair across from Blaster. "I haven't had a checkup like that since b'fore th' war!"
"Tell me about it," Blaster grumbled. "Ratchet scanned me so deep my cassettes felt it. And they weren't even with me at the time. And... take a look at Steeljaw," he then murmured, indicating the saboteur should look under the table.
Leaning over, Jazz obliged the request. He first spied Steeljaw's tail, twitching by Blaster's chair, before laying optics upon the rest of the metal cat. What he saw both made him feel sorry for the cassette and made him want to laugh out loud. The cat's once regal neck was now adorned with a very large, white, floppy cone, the kind humans usually put on their pets after a trip to the vet. When Steeljaw heard the noise of exclamation that came out of Jazz, he turned a smoldering glare onto the mech and snarled at him, baring his large fangs. Jazz pulled his head back immediately, giving Blaster a sympathetic look. "Dude," he said.
"He's supposed to keep it on for two days," Blaster said sullenly. His remark was backed up by a very unhappy growl that came from under the table.
Jazz shook his head. "Man, I can't believe Ratchet."
"Any idea on who pulled that prank on him?" Blaster asked.
"Nope," Jazz said immediately as he casually glanced around the room. "Bet it was th' twins though."
"Hm," Blaster hummed in agreement, taking a drink from his cube as he did so. "Why would they do that? The last thing they would want is an angry Ratchet out to get them."
Jazz just shrugged. "It's th' twins, do ya really think there's a good reason b'hind why they do what they do?"
Blaster cocked an optic ridge and gave Jazz a somewhat suspicious look. "I suppose not," he said.
Jazz was about to respond when suddenly his comm. unit pinged at him. It was Prowl, and the saboteur was pretty sure he knew what the tactician would want to talk to him about. "Whoop, I've gotta split. See ya later, mech!" he said as he stood up and promptly left.
"See ya, mech," Blaster returned, raising his cube slightly in farewell. He watched the saboteur leave before turning back. Beneath the table Steeljaw growled lowly, discontent clear in his voice. Blaster reached under his chair to give the cat a scratch on his back. This was going to be a long several days.
o~o~o
"Ya know, one o' these days I'm gonna call you inta my office!" Jazz quipped as he stepped through the door. As usual, the tactician was sitting behind his desk with an empty chair waiting on the other side. Jazz easily sat down in the chair while Prowl looked at him skeptically.
"I was unaware you used your office," Prowl replied.
"I don't, but maybe I should start!" the saboteur grinned cheekily.
Unimpressed, Prowl leaned back in his chair. "Good, maybe then you'll actually act like a professional for once."
Jazz scoffed dramatically. "Please, I'm always professional!"
The tactician cocked an optic ridge. "Really? Well then do you mind explaining your most recent plan involving Ratchet?"
"Uuuuh, I don't know what you're talkin' about," Jazz said as he suddenly found some paneling on the wall next to him very interesting to look at. When Prowl merely narrowed his optics accusingly and said nothing for the next thirty seconds, Jazz shifted uncomfortably in his chair before finally speaking up again. "Fine! Wasn't m' best idea, okay?"
"Is that the best explanation you have?" Prowl grilled.
"What?" Jazz protested defensively. "I left b'hind some paint scrapin's from Sideswipe, I thought Ratchet'd find them an' blame th' twins for it!"
"Obviously he didn't," the tactician deadpanned.
"Obviously he didn't," the saboteur repeated sullenly.
Prowl reached up to rub his face. "Considering his recent threat, I do not believe it is wise to pursue this course of action any farther."
"But what're we gonna do 'bout Ratchet?!" Jazz protested.
"Do you really think he's going to start helping Sideswipe and Sunstreaker with their pranks?"
Jazz shrugged his shoulders rather dramatically. "I don't know! Nobody knows what goes on in tha' sick processor o' his!"
"Nevertheless," Prowl said, ignoring the other black and white's exaggerated response. "We cannot risk setting off Ratchet again, it's too risky for the entire crew. For now it is best to leave him alone."
"But he'd be such a great asset!" Jazz protested, leaning forward and placing his hands on Prowl's desk. "Think of all th' damage he could cause for our side!"
"I have," Prowl responded, looking aside as if slightly ashamed to admit that. "But do not let that potential get the better of you. The harm he could cause would be far greater than the victory he might give us."
Jazz sat still for a moment as he processed that information. Finally he leaned back with a huff. "Yeah you're right. Fine, we'll leave him alone. So what's th' plan now?"
Now it was Prowl's turn to lean forward, placing his arms on the table top as he spoke to Jazz in a suddenly conspiring tone. "Are you aware of the human custom of throwing confectionary goods at each other for amusement?"
"Uh, ya mean pies?" Jazz asked. When Prowl nodded, Jazz confirmed with a "Yeah."
In response Prowl merely slid a data pad across the desk towards the saboteur. Jazz picked it up and quickly scanned through its contents. His jaw dropped open in amazement as he read. When he was finished he looked up at the tactician incredulously. "You're brilliant!" he said.
"Do you think you can get that set up?" Prowl asked cryptically.
Jazz grinned like a sharkticon. "You betcha!"
o~o~o
Back in the rec room, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were now huddled over a table together near the side of the room. They had been among those hit the hardest by Ratchet. Sunstreaker had spent nearly all the next day furiously buffing out all the dents and dings he had received at the hands of the CMO, while Sideswipe had been forced to take his Energon in very small amounts over the last two days because of how Ratchet had locked his jaw nearly closed shut for mouthing off at him. They had been sulking over their hurt prides since their checkups, but now they were back to their usual activities. They were still unhappy with Prowl over the new rules for their game he had laid out.
"What the frag are we supposed to do with these rules, Sunny?!" Sideswipe groaned to his brother. "It's not fair! He wants this to be a 'battle simulation,' but there aren't rules to battle! He just wants to be in control!"
"The whole 'battle simulation' thing is just his excuse to make this more official, so that he can be in control," Sunstreaker grumbled in return.
Sideswipe scoffed in disgust before plopping his arms onto the table sullenly. "Well, what do we do now? If we do anything that violates one of his friggin' rules, we'll get punished just like normal times."
"Forget the rules," Sunstreaker growled. "We'll shove them back in his face!"
Sideswipe scowled fiercely. "Yeah, we'll show him."
The two then fell into silence as they stared at the table and tried to come up with a fresh idea. Their silence was suddenly interrupted several minutes later when Blaster, who was sitting halfway across the room, decided to turn up the volume on some hard rock music he was listening to. Sideswipe turned towards the other mech in agitation. "Hey, turn it down Blaster we're trying to think!" he yelled.
Blaster glanced their way and grinned unpleasantly. "You're trying to think! Well that's new!" He ended with a raucous laugh and didn't turn his music down a bit.
Sideswipe's scowl deepened and he glared at the communications expert. However, his angry reply was cut short when he noticed movement by Blaster's chair. He ended up returning the laugh when he spotted an irritated and cone-adorned Steeljaw slink out from under the table. "Ha! What happened to your cat? Did he get a little ouchie from the vet?!"
Steeljaw audibly growled as he skulked towards the door. Blaster shot Sideswipe a nasty look while he stood up and followed the unhappy cassette out of the rec room, taking his loud music with him.
The red twin turned back with a victorious smirk, which quickly dissipated when he remembered they were supposed to be brainstorming ideas. With a huff he pulled a data pad out of subspace and slapped it onto the table. Turning it on, he brought up the file that contained Prowl's 'battle simulation' rules. Placing his chin on his fists, he glared at the screen.
After another moment of contemplation, Sunstreaker grabbed the data pad and looked at it for himself. Finally he pushed it back and tapped it, "I think we should do something with number four."
Sideswipe snatched up the data pad and read the mentioned rule. "But we already did something with comm-links," he said.
"Maybe we should do something else," the golden twin replied curtly.
The two once again sank into deep thought. While Sunstreaker merely glared around the room sourly, Sideswipe stared intently at the data pad in front of him. After a moment he pulled a stress ball out of subspace and started squeezing it and bouncing it on the table. Another moment passed where the only sound between the two twins was that of Sideswipe's ball. Until suddenly an idea struck Sideswipe and he smashed the ball against the table with his palm. Looking at the ball, he picked it up and subspaced it. He then pulled it back out into his hand. He then looked up at his brother. "Hey Sunny, I've got an idea. If this works, Prowl and his allies won't be able to retaliate against us for days!"
With that statement the twins left the room to further their plotting. They were so focused on their mission that they hardly noticed that they passed the Prime on their way out the door. Optimus for his part briefly watched the twins as they hustled down the hallway before entering the rec room himself. Ever since his odd run in with Blades several days ago, things haven't gotten any more normal. His Autobots have been acting very reserved around him lately, in general being short with their greetings towards him or completely shutting down their conversations with each other when he ever draws near. And to top it all off, he had just received an unwarranted and overly harsh checkup by Ratchet. When he had asked the medic what was wrong that could have elicited such a behavior, Ratchet had responded with a scowl and growled something about infernal prankers. Optimus could only assume that somebody, probably Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, had done something recently to annoy his CMO. Nothing new there. But still, he couldn't shake that feeling that had first come about several days ago that there was something going on in the Ark that he was unaware of.
As he entered the room, nothing seemed to have changed as several mechs nearby clearly halted midsentence or lowered their voice upon seeing the Prime. A few greeted him as he walked by, but others had a hard time hiding their looks of conspiracy or, was he correct in interpreting, guilt? Pondering the situation, Optimus absentmindedly got himself a cube of Energon before turning back to the room to find himself a place to sit. He quickly spotted an empty table to the side, a nice quiet place for him to think.
As he approached the table, he realized that someone had left a data pad laying on top of it. Curious, and not wanting anybody to be without their personal devices, Optimus picked it up to see who it belonged to. He was mildly surprised to see that it was already turned on and hadn't even fallen into sleep mode yet. He briefly wondered whether he should look at it or not, but then decided that somebody had to in order to determine its owner, so he tilted the screen towards his optics and began to read. Not even halfway through the document, Optimus had an optic ridge cocked in interest. By the time he was done, both optic ridges were raised in surprise. He lowered the data pad and briefly stared at the wall in front of him before glancing around the room, a new light of understanding shining in his optics. Setting the data pad back down onto the table, Optimus turned and left the room. He now had a lot more to think about, and he needed a more private setting to do so.
High up in the air vents of the rec room, a pair of small, glittering red optics watched all that happened down below. Seeing the big red and blue Autobot leave the room, the owner of those optics decided it was time to leave as well. Turning around, the creature expertly shuffled through the air ducts that crisscrossed throughout the Ark, keeping its stiff and angled wings from scraping the side of the small enclosure. Finally it made it to the outer hull of the Ark, appearing, still undetected by the inhabitants of the ship, to the outside world through a cleanly pried open ventilation cover. Wasting no time, the small metal buzzard immediately took to the air, zipping away from the Autobot base and off towards the horizon.
o~o~o
After a lengthy flight, Laserbeak finally reached the spot where the Decepticon base was located deep in the ocean off of the west coast of the United States. For a moment, he spiraled above the spot where he knew the Decepticon ship was buried under the waves. Soon a small port appeared above the surface of the water and opened up, allowing Laserbeak to soar inside. Closing again, the port quickly disappeared below the water once more.
Once inside the Decepticon base, Laserbeak easily navigated the halls of the downed ship, nearly grazing several mechs with his wings on his way, much to their chagrin. In several minutes, though, the bird reached its final destination, the command center, where behind its doors Megatron, Soundwave and Starscream were waiting for the cassette spy.
"Well it appears that our little spy has returned," Megatron rasped as he lounged on the throne-like chair that adorned the center of the room. "Let's see what juicy information he has for us today."
"Laserbeak, return," Soundwave ordered in his monotone voice as he opened up his chest compartment for his cassette. The metal bird obediently flew to his master, transformed and settled into the waiting cavity. Wasting no time, Soundwave transformed into cassette player mode and accessed Laserbeak's memory files, replaying back all the conversations his small spy had recorded during his reconnaissance mission at the Autobot base.
For the next half an hour, Megatron listened to all of the recordings Laserbeak had to offer. Finally they ended on the last and most important one, with Sideswipe saying 'If this works, Prowl and his allies won't be able to retaliate against us for days!'
"Retaliation, huh?" Megatron said, then laughed evilly while Soundwave transformed back into root mode. "It appears those pathetic Autobots have finally begun to mutiny! I knew that fool of a Prime couldn't keep his soldiers from rebelling against him for long!"
"Ha!" Starscream suddenly decided to join in on the conversation. "Those Autoscums are a sorry excuse for an army! Now's the time to strike, master! Strike them while they are at their weakest!"
Megatron was smirking as he replied. "It appears the Autobots have done our job for us, as they have fallen apart on their own. We shall strike them while they are weak!"
"That was my plan!" Starscream protested in a whiny voice.
"Silence fool!" Megatron spat while he stood up and walked slowly towards the front of the command center. He stared through the massive window in front of him, watching the water world beyond as he brooded darkly. "Yes, this time Optimus Prime shall meet his match. I always knew he wasn't a true leader, and now the Autobots' colors truly show! Our army is strong while his rots with dissent!"
Suddenly the doors to the command center slid open and Skywarp and Drag Strip burst into the room. "Starscream! Tell this idiot that us seekers are faster in the air than his Stunticons are on the ground! Tell him!" Skywarp exclaimed.
"You moron, you lost that race fair and square!" Drag Strip protested.
Skywarp flicked his wings at the Stunticon rudely. "You cheated!"
Furious, Drag Strip grabbed Skywarp by the wing and whirled him around, ready to punch him in the face. The seeker responded by warping out of existence and reappearing behind his assailant, shoving him harshly in the back. Drag Strip snarled and he turned around and launched himself at the purple mech.
Starscream approached the two fighters aggressively. "Silence! Mighty Megatron is plotting!" he yelled. When that failed to stop the fight, he pulled out his null ray and fired at Drag Strip. The yellow mech had to dive out of the way to avoid being shot.
Drag Strip rolled to his feet and turned to Starscream. "Seeker scum!" he snarled.
Finally Megatron had had enough of the disturbing noise and turned on the three mechs in a rage, unsubspacing his own fusion cannon and pointing it at all of them. "ENOUGH! Get out, all of you before I blast you to oblivion!"
That sent Drag Strip and Skywarp scurrying to the door. But Starscream didn't budge. "They are pathetic fools, Megatron, they don't deserve to be in your presence!"
Megatron was not swayed as he turned to point his cannon right in Starscream's face. "That means you too, Starscream! I've had enough of you for one day; get out!"
Starscream scowled unhappily, but while staring down the barrel of Megatron's fearsome weapon, he didn't have the nerve to protest. "Yes, lord," he growled before he too left the room.
Having finally regained some peace and quiet, Megatron turned back to the window, ignoring the silent Soundwave who still was standing as motionless as a sentry next to him. "Yes, this time those Autobots have met their match," he plotted darkly. "This time we will finally defeat Optimus Prime and his pathetic Autobots, and victory shall be ours!" He ended his monologue with an evil laugh that echoed off the bare walls of his sunken warship base.
Author's Notes: Aw snap, everybody's plotting now! Can you guess what everybody's up to? We've got some big chapters coming up! And sorry this update took so long in coming (longer than usual). This chapter fought me from beginning to end, I don't know why. Hope that didn't show through too bad.