Chapter 8 -- Video

"This way!"

Frenzy grabbed Rumble by the wrist and dragged him around one last corner, never slackening his pace despite the fact that his fuel pump was pounding as if trying to beat its way out of his chest. Rumble worked his legs as quickly as he could to keep up with his brother, breath coming out of his vents in ragged gasps as his cooling system kicked into overdrive from their panicked flight. Behind them, the thunderous approach of the larger Decepticons could be heard, a grim reminder that they had yet to lose their pursuers and a spur to drive them on. They'd been caught at their tricks before, and they had no desire to be caught again.

"How much further?" demanded Rumble, puffing hot air in an effort to cool his internals.

"We're here!" Frenzy exclaimed in triumph, and he jerked a small prybar out of subspace and worked it beneath a nearby ventilation grill. "Gimmie a hand, will ya?"

"That's your brilliant hiding place?" demanded Rumble. "That's the most obvious trick in the book!"

"Hey, if it works..." began Frenzy, but angry voices prompted him to shut up and keep prying. Rumble grumbled but grabbed ahold of the bar and helped lever the grill up enough for the two cassettes to scramble inside the ventilation duct. Once inside Frenzy hauled the prybar inside with them and slammed the grill shut -- and not a moment too soon, for two irate Seekers and a cackling Stunticon rounded the corner at that instant.

"Fraggit, we lost 'em!" Skywarp snapped, and a dull thud signaled his fist impacting against the nearby wall.

"They couldn't have gotten far," Thundercracker replied, his voice at a normal volume but still simmering with anger. "We'll split up. Skywarp, go left. Wildrider, come with me and we'll cover this hallway."

"Always wanted to play cassette bowling," giggled the Ferrari. "The lil' slaggers have had it coming a long time..."

"But this latest was just... argh!" Thundercracker couldn't seem to find a word vehement enough to describe the act and so settled for copying Skywarp's example and taking his frustration out on the wall.

"Remember, we ain't supposed to damage them," Skywarp informed them, disappointment clouding his voice. "Megatron wants to see them personally."

"Gotcha," Thundercracker replied, sounding pleased that at least they wouldn't entirely escape punishment.

"Slaggit," grumbled Wildrider. "Can't I just swing 'em around by the ankles a little..."

"If you want Soundwave on your case, be my guest..." Thundercracker's voice trailed off as he and Wildrider departed one way. Skywarp's footsteps continued down the other way, and Rumble listened carefully until long after said footsteps had faded into silence. Only then did he dare address his brother.

"This is all your fault, y'know."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know that video we uploaded on YouTube would hit the front page?" Frenzy retorted.

Break...

It was times like this when Tracks was reminded just why he tried not to get involved in the twins' wild schemes. It wasn't the fact that said schemes usually ended with time served in the brig or scrubbing every flat surface in the base, but that the schemes themselves were just so... inane. He failed to see what was so entertaining about ambushing Prowl with that substance humans called Silly String, or rigging the PA system to broadcast "The Song That Never Ends" on continuous loop for twelve hours straight. Thankfully -- if only because Sunstreaker couldn't tolerate the Corvette's company -- they didn't ply him for aid in their ridiculous plots very often.

Though once in awhile they surprised him with a strange request, as if reminding him why he tended to avoid their company.

"You want what?" he demanded, staring at Sideswipe incredulously.

"You heard me," Sideswipe replied with a grin. "We want a link to the most popular annoying video on YouTube at the moment. You keep on top of human trends, you should know a good one."

"YOU want a link to an annoying video," corrected Sunstreaker. "I don't recall asking to be drug along on this."

Tracks suppressed the urge to smirk at the yellow Lamborghini. Everyone knew that though Sunstreaker would deny it on pain of death, he would never allow Sideswipe to pull a prank on his own if he had any say about it.

"And just what is the purpose of this video I'm to recommend to you?" he inquired.

Sideswipe spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "What are you talking about, Tracks? Maybe we just want to enjoy some of the humans' popular culture."

Tracks arched an optic ridge. "Even though you specifically requested an annoying video?"

"Well, maybe we'll enjoy it enough that we'll want to share it with others," Sideswipe replied, a sly grin on his faceplate.

Tracks narrowed his optics in a slight glower. "I don't fancy this being traced back to me, you know..."

"Cross my spark and hope to die," Sideswipe said with mock solemnity, drawing an imaginary X over his chestplate. "You won't be implicated, I promise."

Tracks gusted a sigh. "Very well." He sat down in front of his computer and opened the Internet browser. "Let me see what YouTube has to offer."

Sideswipe pumped his fist in a triumphant gesture before settling down to peer over Tracks' canopy. "What's popular today?"

"It better not still be Charlie the Unicorn," Sunstreaker grumbled. "I swear, I lost hard-drive capacity just by watching that weird slag."

"What are you talking about, that was great stuff!" Sideswipe countered. "'Shun the nonbeliever!' Seriously, I about died laughing..."

"No, you about died when Ironhide found out it was you that rigged it as his screensaver..." corrected Sunstreaker.

"Hush already!" Tracks barked. "I've found a video that might suit your purposes. Something titled 'Dancing Robot Kid.' Hmm... only uploaded yesterday and it's on the front page of the site. Intriguing..."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged a brief look. Sunstreaker just shrugged. Sideswipe seemed to take that as an affirmative answer and turned back to Tracks. "Let's give it a look. If it's anything like the Dancing Banana..."

"If it is, I'll kill you," Sunstreaker growled.

"I thought you liked the Peanut Butter Jelly Time song," grinned Sideswipe.

Tracks paid only slight attention to their rapport as he waited for the video to load. Thankfully it didn't take long. He whistled to catch the twins' attention, and they quieted down to watch the video.

Sunstreaker was the first to comment. "That's weird, it looks like a Cybertronian kid. Who uploaded this anyhow?"

"Username RibFir42," Sideswipe replied, squinting at the screen. "So what? Probably just means someone on the Ark got the video from back home, thought it was cute, and uploaded it."

"That's not Cybertronian music they're listening to," retorted Sunstreaker.

"So they edited it to have different music to appeal to a wider audience," Sideswipe retorted. "Quit being paranoid, you're my twin, not Red Alert's..."

"And what the frag is a... fa-hoo-goo-god?" Sunstreaker demanded, scowling as he tried to vocalize the strange word.

"That's 'fhqwhgad,'" Sideswipe corrected. "And haven't you ever seen Homestar Runner? Or listened to their 'Everybody to the Limit' song?"

"I don't like the same CPU-rot you do..."

"What the deuce?" Tracks said abruptly.

"Oh, Homestar Runner's a Flash cartoon popular on the Internet," Sideswipe explained. "Surprised you haven't heard of it..."

"Not that!" He stopped the video and rewound it. "I'm talking about this! Look at what's in the background!"

The Lamborghinis leaned over Tracks' shoulders to have a look. "Holy frag, that's Laserbeak!" Sideswipe exclaimed.

"That's also the walls of the Nemesis," Sunstreaker added. "I'd recognize that tacky purple decor anywhere."

Sideswipe's mouth hung open as the video played to a close. "If this video was shot on the Nemesis, that means the kid could be there right now! We've got to tell Prime about this, the kid needs rescuing..."

"Hold your horsepower, Sideswipe," Tracks advised. "Just because this was uploaded yesterday doesn't mean the video itself isn't older. This could have been recorded before the Nemesis even departed Cybertron."

"Besides, who says the kid's a hostage?" Sunstreaker pointed out. "Red optics. That means it's Decepticon."

"Oh come on, there're Autobots with red optics..." Sideswipe pointed out.

"Will you two stop bickering?" demanded Tracks. "We don't know enough about this situation to make assumptions yet. I will agree with Sideswipe on one point, however -- Prime needs to be informed of this, and the sooner the better. He's better equipped to make a decision about this than we are."

"Then why are you just sitting there?" asked Sideswipe. "Radio him and send him the vid!"

"I don't need you to order me around, Sideswipe," said Tracks, opening a link to their commander. Tracks to Optimus Prime, I'm sending you a video file. I suggest you have a look as soon as possible.

Break...

The video itself was innocent enough. A young femme sparkling, her armor royal purple and silver and her round red optics slightly too large for her face, was dancing along to some kind of synthesizer music with a gravelly, oddly accented male voice as the vocal. She wasn't a particularly good dancer, but she was obviously enjoying herself, grinning widely and giggling occasionally. She never faced the camera directly, so whether she knew she was being recorded or not was debatable. To the casual viewer -- and honestly, most of the humans who had made this video so popular on the Internet would be considered casual viewers -- it was simply a young Transformer child enjoying some innocent fun.

Optimus Prime wasn't so sure... and neither were the officers he had assembled to view the video.

"Well, it ain't doctored footage," Jazz said with a confident nod. "Clean cut, no touchin' up or splicin' that I can see."

"What's a kid doin' in the Decepticon base?" demanded Ironhide. "Can't be nowhere else, purple walls an' Laserbeak in the background're a dead giveaway."

"That's why we're holding this meeting, Ironhide," Prime reminded him. "To figure out to the best of our ability who this sparkling is and why the Decepticons are holding her."

A murmur of assent went through the gathered mechs -- Optimus Prime, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, Red Alert, and Ratchet. Tracks, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker had been briefly present at the beginning of the meeting, long enough to explain how they had come across the video, but Prime had dismissed them shortly after they had played the video through the first time -- Tracks because he had a week of leave due and didn't want to delay it, and the twins because they would have proven more of a distraction than a help with this matter.

"Ah vote for sendin' a rescue party!" Ironhide exclaimed, thumping the table with a fist. "No lil' kid deserves this!"

"Have you slipped a cog, Ironhide?" barked Red Alert, his sensor horns flashing briefly. "What if that's what the Decepticons want? This could be a trap, with that sparkling as bait! Why else would they have released this video onto the humans' information network?"

"Might not have been a 'Con that slipped it," Jazz pointed out. "Coulda come from Cybertron -- or the kid coulda posted it herself. Or a 'Con coulda posted it without thinkin' we'd notice. An' we might not have noticed if it hadn't gotten popular with the humans."

Ratchet snorted. "Any video with Cybertronians in it becomes popular within a breem of it hitting the Internet. You know how fascinated the humans are with us."

Prowl, Prime noted, was completely silent. Rather than joining the discussion, he was focused on the screen at the front of the room, replaying the video again and again for closer scrutiny, though with the sound muted so as not to disturb the others. Prowl was in full analytical mode at the moment, and Prime opted not to disturb his tactician while he was hard at work.

"She's a cute thing," Jazz noted with a slight grin. "Prob'ly a lil' imp for her creators t' handle, though, judgin' by that smile."

"Of course she looks like a cute thing," Red Alert said scathingly. "That's what the Decepticons want us to believe so we'll launch a rescue party. And when they get there to liberate her, she won't be there -- all they'll find is an ambush or a death trap, not an Autobot child..."

"Incorrect," Prowl cut in abruptly. "The child is a Decepticon by creation."

"What?" Ironhide glowered at the screen. "She ain't even got a sigil!"

"Unless she was a soldier -- and I highly doubt that the Decepticons would resort to child soldiers, as sparklings are too weak and too few in number to make a significant contribution to their forces -- she wouldn't be wearing a sigil. The red optics and the chassis design, however, are indicators that she is not an Autobot creation."

"That don't make no sense either," Ironhide complained. "Why would the 'Cons have a kid runnin' 'round their base?"

Prowl's optics dimmed slightly in thought. "There are a few possibilities. First, the sparkling could be the creation of one of the Decepticons -- most probably one of the higher-ranking ones, such as Megatron or Starscream."

"Poor kid," muttered Ratchet, earning a snicker from Jazz and a stern look from Prime.

"Second... the child is a femme. It's entirely possible the situation of the femmes on Cybertron is worse than we know."

"The 'Bot femmes are safe," Jazz countered. "Shocky ain't uncovered their new headquarters yet, an' I don't think he'll find 'em anytime soon."

"But we don't have information on the Decepticon femmes," Prime replied. "We've always assumed the Decepticons kept their femmes locked out of sight for their own protection. However, Ultra Magnus and Elita-1 have reported an influx of former Decepticons joining the Autobot ranks, and a rather high percentage of those 'turncoats' have been femmes. Also, there have been more and more instances of femmes fighting alongside mechs in the Decepticon ranks. It's entirely possible that they have lost most, if not almost all, of their femmes due to desertion or war casualties." He glanced at Prowl to see if he'd gotten his theory right, and the tactician's nod of approval let him continue. "It may be that the situation is dire enough that Megatron wants to keep this femme under his supervision, to ensure her safety and continued loyalty to the Decepticon cause."

"That makes sense," Ratchet added. "But that doesn't answer the most pressing question -- what are WE going to do about this? Decepticon or not, is the Nemesis really the best place for this sparkling?"

Optimus Prime steeled himself for the inevitable reaction. "We do nothing, Ratchet."

"Nothin'?" exclaimed Jazz, shooting to his feet. "Yer gonna let this poor kid stay with th' 'Cons?"

"Who's slipped a cog now?" barked Ironhide. "The 'Cons're worse than a packa cyber-wolves! They'll tear the poor kid ta shreds!"

"The child is a Decepticon, not an Autobot hostage," Prime replied. "From what we can see, she is well-cared for -- energized, well-maintained, entertained, and suffering no abuse. And for all we know, she could have family among Megatron's troops. At this point I believe removing her from the Decepticon base by force will do more harm than good -- both to the troops we send to retrieve the sparkling, and the sparkling herself." He turned and deactivated the viewscreen, cutting off the video. "We will continue to keep an audial attuned to any more information on her, however."

There were murmurs of agreement -- rather reluctant ones from Jazz and Ironhide -- and mechs began pushing chairs back and rising from their seats.

"Still think leavin' her with the 'Cons is a bad idea," grumbled Ironhide.

"Better than traumatizing her with a botched rescue," Red Alert retorted.

"Wonder who uploaded that vid in th' first place," mused Jazz. "'Magine they ain't too popular with the 'Cons about now."

Break...

"Avoidance of serious damage: requested," Soundwave informed Megatron, carrying Rumble and Frenzy into the commander's office by their ankles like a farmer carrying a pair of chickens to the butcher block.

"We didn't know it would get so popular so fast!" howled Frenzy.

"It was a joke!" Rumble squawked. "You know, funny, ha-ha?"

"Very amusing," Megatron replied in a stormy tone, without a hint of amusement. "Did it not occur to you imbeciles that the Autobots might also pay attention to the humans' Internet? Or did that tidbit of information never cross your obsolete, outmoded processors?"

"Our processors ain't outmoded!" complained Rumble.

"Shut up!" Megatron snatched the cassettes out of Soundwave's hands and raising them to his optic level to glower at them. "And count yourselves lucky that I'll be the one deciding your punishment! Or would you rather I allowed Thundercracker to discipline you?"

The cassettes glanced over at the aforementioned blue Seeker and quailed. Normally somewhat calm and collected, Thundercracker now glowered at them, simmering with barely restrained rage. It had only been Soundwave's intervention that had kept him from throwing Rumble and Frenzy across the room when he had finally come across them. And considering it had once been Thundercracker who had come to their aid in the past when Skywarp had kicked the cassettes around, his current mood spoke volumes about the severity of their actions.

"Thundercracker, you are dismissed," Megatron ordered. "You will speak to your niece about her involvement in this affair."

"Yes, sir," he replied, sparing one last withering look at the cassettes before striding out of the room.

Skywarp was waiting for Thundercracker outside the command center, and he fell into step beside him as he continued down the hall. "So how'd it go?"

"He's delivering punishment to the cassettes," Thundercracker replied.

"Slag," Skywarp grumbled. "Wildrider's idea of cassette bowling sounded fun, too. Do we know if the Autobots have seen the video yet?"

"No way to tell," Thundercracker replied. "Though they haven't charged into the base with guns ablaze yet, so even if they know about Glory now, they aren't knocking themselves out trying to 'rescue' her." Though whether it was only a matter of time, or whether they were plotting such a "rescue" as they spoke, who could say? "I'm supposed to talk to Glory about this."

"Why? This ain't her fault."

"We just want to see if she knew about this at all, or gave her approval. And if she did know what the cassettes were planning, I want to be sure she understands the consequences."

Thundercracker turned a corner to see Dragstrip stalking down the corridor, still dripping from his last trip to the washracks. Upon seeing the blue Seeker he brightened a bit and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"She's in Dead End's quarters," he said without any prompting. "Only reason Mr. Depresso likes her is 'cause she can reach his hard-to-wax spots." Without further ado he slunk past them and went on his way, leaving a trail of damp footprints.

"Only Glory would think Dead End's great company," snickered Skywarp. "See you at the evening fuel break?"

"I'll be there," Thundercracker replied, then went to find Dead End's quarters. It wasn't hard -- the third door down was shut, but even that didn't muffle the sounds of a whining buffer and the pulsing beat of a human rock song whose words he could just make out:

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers, leave those kids alone
Hey, Teacher, leave those kids alone!
All in all you're just another brick in the wall

"Typical," muttered Thundercracker, testing the door. Finding it unlocked, he walked in.

For a Decepticon convinced that doom was just around the next corner and making any sort of effort toward any goal was ultimately pointless, Dead End was certainly a neat freak. Datapads, vid-disks, and oversized books were stacked with almost mathematical precision on the small shelving unit, and his gun wasn't lying on the desk or recharge berth but set neatly on its rack, gleaming with a recent cleaning. There wasn't a trace of dust, grease, or other filth anywhere -- Hook could have done open-chassis surgery right on the floor without worrying about contamination. Dead End himself lay face-down on his berth, face hidden in his folded arms, as immaculate as the room around him. Glory knelt on the Stunticon's back, face contorted in a comical expression of intense concentration as she ran the buffer across his shoulders.

"What are you doing, Glory?" he asked.

"Making Dead End nice and shiny," she replied, turning off the buffer and jumping down to greet her uncle, pausing to scoop up Dragon from beside the berth.

"I could be deactivated at any moment," Dead End explained coolly. "If not slain in pointless battle against the Autobots, then blasted into oblivion at Megatron's whim or simply expiring in the night when Hook neglects my maintenance. Why not go out looking my best?"

It made sense -- if one used Dead End's twisted brand of logic. "I need to talk to Glory. She'll be back later."

"Of course," Dead End replied. "I'll be here, if Motormaster doesn't drag me out and ruin my polish by making a punching bag of me before then."

Glory clasped Thundercracker's hand in hers as he led her out of the room and down the hall. "He's silly," she giggled.

"I guess that's one way of putting it," he replied.

She squeezed Dragon tightly with her free arm. "What are we gonna talk about, Uncle T?"

He turned down a lesser-used corridor to ensure they could talk somewhat privately. "Glory, did Rumble and Frenzy ever make a video of you dancing?"

"Nuh-uh."

"They didn't?" So they had taken the recording without her knowledge or permission...

"No. Buzzsaw did. They just played the music."

He cracked a slight smile at how literally she had answered his question. "But whose idea was it to make the video?"

"Frenzy's."

"And did he say what he was going to do with the video?"

"No."

"I see." He was quiet a moment, trying to figure out how best to word what he wanted to say next.

"You're not mad at me, are you, Uncle T?"

"No, Glory, of course not. I'm just concerned. I want to make sure you're safe, after all. And if the Autobots see the video, they'll know you're here."

"The Autobots saw it?" She sounded a little frightened now.

"I don't know. Megatron's going to make Rumble and Frenzy destroy the video and pull it off of the Internet. And he wants to make sure this doesn't happen again. We don't want anything to happen to you."

"What if Rumble and Frenzy want to make another video, though?"

He stopped walking and turned around to face her, kneeling and taking her shoulders in his hands. "Listen closely, Glory -- nobody can make you do anything without your permission. If they want you to do something you know you shouldn't do, or if it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell them no. And if they try to force you to change your mind or threaten to hurt you, you run away and find me or Lord Megatron and tell them what's going on. Am I clear?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes, Uncle T."

He smiled, hoping to dispel the stern mood. "Good. You know I love you, right?"

She grinned back. "Love you too, Uncle T."

"At least somebody does, huh?" he replied with a chuckle. He patted her shoulder before standing again. "Want to go back and finish helping Dead End, or do you want to come with me and help me on World of Warcraft?"

"Can I do both?" she begged.

"If you hurry with Dead End, you can make it in time to help me and my guild run Vael, okay?"

"Okay!" She tugged eagerly on his arm to urge him back to the Stunticon's quarters.