Title: Kancho
Summary: Sideswipe discovers the biggest prank to never hit America.
Rating: T, for completely demented humor.
Author’s Note: Never heard of a kancho? Then God bless you. This is a prank that originates in Japan, and almost came over to America via the anime Naruto. Thankfully, it never caught on. Based off of several prompts by 0ArmoredSoul0 of DeviantArt.
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A groggy Sunstreaker awoke to his brother’s mad cackling. Praying to Primus that he wasn’t the target of Sideswipe’s latest prank and swearing vengeance if he was, he rolled over on his berth to face the twins’ shared room. Sideswipe sat in a chair facing their console monitor.

Sunstreaker knew exactly what his brother was doing. Since their awakening on Earth, Sideswipe had taken an immense interest in the American culture’s fascination with practical jokes. Sure, Sideswipe had been known as the Autobot’s resident prankster long before mankind had even existed, but once he had discovered the diversity of the pranks devised by this continent of somewhat-sadistic organics, his processor near fritzed with glee. On the Internet, he hunted for new practical jokes like a youngling at a synthesizer shop. The other Autobots, especially those that commonly interacted with humans, eventually became wise to his pranks and were hardly ever caught by the same one twice. Thus, it wasn’t unusual to find him at the console, searching far and wide for the newest and outrageous jokes.

“What did you find this time?” Sunstreaker asked lazily, sitting up to face his twin.

Sideswipe slowly turned in his chair, an evil grin plastered firmly across his faceplates. “My dear brother, you are gonna love this one.”

Sunstreaker grumbled and got up to read the console monitor over his brother’s shoulder. After reading a few lines, his jaw opened in surprise. After a few more, he made a noise between a gargle and a hiccup.

“Alright, now that is just sick.”

Sideswipe snickered. “I know. Isn’t it great?”

“Like slag it is!” Sunstreaker narrowed his eyes at the monitor, still not believing what he was seeing. “How would you even do that?”

“Easy. Right in between the skid plates. Like this,” Sideswipe brought up his hands for his brother to see and folded them together with the fingers interlaced, like he was praying. He extended his pointer and middle fingers, as if in the shape of a gun. Although, considering how he was going to use it, the human prank probably intended for it to look like something worse than a gun.

“And the best part is, my dear Dandelion of Doom, this isn’t done in America, so there’s no way Spike could have warned everybody about this. They’ll never know what hit them!”

Sunstreaker sighed and sat back down on his berth. “Whatever. Just leave me out of this one, okay?”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t you want to play with me?”

Sunstreaker narrowed his eyes. “NO.”

Sideswipe shrugged, unfazed. “Your loss, bro.” He got up to leave their quarters. “See you in a few!”

Sunstreaker ‘harumphed’ at him, brought out a rag and begin to polish his armor idly. If there was one thing he was not going to be thrown in the brig for, it would be helping his brother perform a kancho on another Autobot.

oooooooooooooooooooo

It wasn’t long before the red twin found his first target. Bluestreak and Trailbreaker, just coming in from patrol, transformed into bipedal mode at the entrance and walked in. Trailbreaker asked Bluestreak about getting some energon in the rec room; Bluestreak’s long-winded answer came down that ‘he’d rather get some recharge in before doing anything else’. Trailbreaker shrugged and left, while Bluestreak casually made his way to the soldiers’ quarters.

Hiding in a perpendicular hallway, Sideswipe smirked. ‘Perfect’.

Bluestreak was coming towards him, so he kept still in the shadows and pressed his back against the wall. He stifled a giggle as he thought of himself as a human ninja. The younger gunner passed through the intersection without noticing him, too tired and too focused on getting some well-deserved recharge. After he was a few steps away, Sideswipe pushed off the wall and charged. Using speed acquired from vorns as a melee warrior, he ran low to the ground behind Bluestreak, folded his hands, leapt at him, and jammed his fingers in between the gunner’s skid plates.

Bluestreak’s screech echoed across the entire Ark. Sideswipe’s momentum and the Datsun’s own instinctive leap away from the intruding fingers catapulted him forward, doorwings flaring in alarm. Airborne, he flapped his arms in distress before landing heavily on his knees. Sideswipe stopped himself before he would run into his comrade’s back, straightening up and removing his fingers.

“What the frag was that?!” Bluestreak cried, looking around for the source of the ass—ult.

“Hey Bluestreak! Nice soprano!”

Bluestreak’s optics grew even wider has he recognized the voice. Realizing that he was in a very compromising position, he scrambled to his feet and fled down the hallway, leaving the amused Lamborghini behind. Sideswipe clutched his sides and roared with laughter.

“Oh man, that was too funny!”

“Proooooowl!!”

Sideswipe’s cackling came to an abrupt halt. Further down the corridor, other Autobots were answering Bluestreak’s cries.

‘Exit, stage right.’

With a quick shout of “Tattle-tale!”, Sideswipe bolted in the other direction.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Maybe Bluestreak wasn’t the best choice for a first target, because once he was upset, everybody knew that Sideswipe was up to no good. Sideswipe swore that Prowl and Red Alert had put together a security routine just for when they knew pranking was imminent. Everyone who was off duty locked themselves in their quarters or banded together in the rec room. Those who had to walk around stayed in groups of two or three. And with Prowl now on the prowl (pun intended), Sideswipe was having difficulty finding a new target.

Swearing profusely, Sideswipe stalked the halls, aware of any Autobot who looked ready to take him down. Most, though, had already heard about his new “attack strategy” from the babbling Bluestreak, and when they saw him, they ducked into the nearest room or scampered back the way that they came. And when they did that, Sideswipe had to double-back before an officer could come to inspect the prankster-sighting.

So he did what he normally did when he need inspiration for evil doing.

He snuck into Wheeljack’s lab.

The scientist was either completely ignorant to the warnings of a certain red Lamborghini on the loose, or was too involved in his latest project to be worried. As Sideswipe entered the lab, he found him working a rubber-like material between his hands with his back to the door. Wheeljack seemed too concerned with the material to notice the door hiss open, but Sideswipe ducked behind the nearest table before his luck could change.

After a few minutes, Wheeljack finally seemed satisfied with the substance and placed a piece of it on the nozzle of an air canister. The material slowly expanded like a balloon with only a few bumps along

the side. Wheeljack hummed to himself and removed the substance, placing it in a vat on a low shelf. The scientist scrubbed his hands off with a dirty rag and walked to the back of the lab.

“Project SW 307-39.”

Sideswipe ducked his head, fearing that he’d just been discovered. Wheeljack, however, was not paying any attention to him; as he walked, his console glowed on and began writing what he said.

“Testing of substitute material is complete, since I do not have the ability to, er, work with organic material,” Wheeljack said to the dictation journal. “The substitute expands correctly when the same amount of air pressure is used. This pressure may begin from the lungs and move into their chests.”

Sideswipe crept forward and stuck his hand into the vat. The stuff had the thickness and texture of glue, but he could easily remove it from his fingers with a little brushing. Spike had once brought in a toy called Gak, this reminded the mech very much of it. He played with a bit of it between his thumb and pointer finger, turning it into a ball and then pulling it apart. A wicked idea began forming in his processor.

Wheeljack was beginning a monologue about human females, of all things. Taking advantage of the scientist’s easy distraction, Sideswipe clenched his hands together and dipped his middle and pointer fingers into the vat. He lifted them out to find a fairly large glob worked around it. Smiling evilly, he quietly crept up behind Wheeljack.

“So in conclusion, I deduce that when human women sneeze, their…..AAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

As Wheeljack jumped, Sideswipe had to pull his fingers back so that he would not be dragged along for the ride. The substance was lodged between Wheeljack’s skidplates, and it snapped out of his fingers to plaster the other’s hindquarters. The scientist yelped again and spun around. His optics locked onto the prankster, and the normally cheery Autobot’s sidefins glowed red.

“Why you little...”

Sideswipe could not resist shouting “TOOT!!” over his shoulder as he ran for his life. Just before the Lancia had turned, he had noticed that the material stuck to Wheeljack’s backside was already beginning to bubble up.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The entire base was on alert now. The red Lamborghini could no longer risk being seen by anyone, and he warily prowled the halls. Every so often he would hear the pounding footsteps of an approaching officer, and he would scramble away. After about an hour, Sideswipe found himself in one of the lowest levels of the base, where maintenance and miscellaneous inventory items were held.

“That’s alright Grapple, I think I found it.”

Sideswipe managed not to gasp before he dived behind some boxes. Grapple and another mech were talking at the other end of the room. They apparently had not noticed the flash of red that had walked onto the floor. A few moments of conversation, then footsteps indicated Grapple returning to his office. Sideswipe risked peering over the top of the boxes.

Optimus was bent over a table, inspecting a small piece of machinery. It beeped several times before shorting out. He turned it over and leaned in closer to look at the underside.

Before Sideswipe could even begin to comprehend the perfect opportunity, his conscious finally decided to make itself known. Could he really kancho his commanding officer, who had saved his aft numerous times? Who had the patience to keep him on a military team despite the slag he pulled? Who was a symbol of righteousness? Who had a copyright on the phrase “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings”?

Sideswipe thought for a minute.

It was a quick decision.

Quieter than he thought possible of himself, the Lamborghini crawled up behind the Autobot leader. Optimus apparently was on the same wavelength of Wheeljack, and showed no indication of being aware of his imminent doom. The machine buzzed and whirred. Optimus chuckled and placed it right-side up Sideswipe folded his hands together.

With only a moment’s hesitation, he plunged his fingers between the skidplates of the Bearer of the Matrix.

Somewhere, in a place between time and space, God swore loudly.

Upon hearing his leader’s surprised roar, Sideswipe decided not to stick around for whatever wrath Primus would certainly stricken him with. Already planning how he would share his glorious story with his twin, he pulled at his hands and turned to run.

He didn’t move.

Sideswipe pulled harder on his hands. Still nothing. Panic building, he stared up at Optimus, who’s optics were staring down at him over his shoulder. Behind the mask, he could have sworn that his leader was smirking.

The bigger mech’s stronger skidplates were firmly clamped down on his fingers like a beartrap.

“Grapple! Call Prowl and Ironhide, tell them that I found Sideswipe!”

Sideswipe began a desperate tug-of-war against the Autobot’s leader’s aft. “Frag!! Fragfragfragfragfragfrag!!”

The pressure on his fingers grew tighter.

oooooooooooooooooooo

“I was told to find out just what was wrong with you.”

“Oi! I've still got my sanity!” Sideswipe snapped, then reconsidered. “Well, most of it, anyways.”

Ratchet smacked the back of his head, causing Sideswipe’s face to bang against the table. “Quiet, you.”

“Okay doc, you want to know what my problem is?!” Sideswipe shouted, struggling against the belts that held him firmly prone on the table. “I’ve been fighting in a war that’s lasted over a million vorns! I’ve had to watch my friends die, and I’ve killed mechs myself! I’ve crash landed on a mudball planet with a bunch of filthy organics! And the worst part is, through the whole thing I’ve been stuck with a bunch of pompous, boring, anal-retentive fraggers!!”

Ratchet had been listening with half an audio to the pity-story, but he perked up at the last bit. “You think that we’re anal-retentive?”

Sideswipe was ready to keep ranting, but quieted at the medic’s tone. “Uh….yeah?”

An evil smile slowly built over Ratchet’s faceplates. A smile that should normally belong to Sideswipe when he finds a new prank.

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to check you for a possible physical defect,” he said while circling around the table. “You apparently have some sort of obsession with performing ‘kanchos’ on the afts of other bots. I need to figure out why.”

Sideswipe’s efforts to escape the belts redoubled. “You can’t be serious!!”

“Your brother suggested it.”

The doctor reached for the Lamborghini’s aft, and a screech louder than even Bluestreak’s echoed throughout the Ark.

oooooooooooooooooooo

A/N EDIT: If you don't get the joke about what Wheeljack was experimenting on, you'll need to see this and it's accompianing Youtube link: ntldr. deviantart. com /art /Scientific-Announcement-76556949 (as always, take out the spaces)