Title: Crowd Control
Author: Koi Lungfish
Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations from The Transformers (c) 1986 Hasbro, Ltd. Used without permission. Text (c) 2007, Koi Lung Fish Mark of Lung. All Rights Reserved.
Subject: Sunstreaker has to deal with Bluestreak and problem humans.
Continuity: G1 cartoon.
It was a bad time and a worse place for Bluestreak to lose it, but it happened anyway.
They were fifty yards from the gate through the wall around the Ark reservation and Sunstreaker was directly behind the gunner in the Autobot convoy when Bluestreak swerved, braked hard and sloughed off the edge of the road. Sunstreaker jammed on his brakes and swerved as well, half to catch Bluestreak and half to avoid being rear-ended by Optimus Prime, who slammed on his brakes and his air-horns at the same time. Wheeljack, in the back of the convoy, must've been daydreaming since he went bumper first into Prime's trailer, prompting a startled honk from the commander.
Sunstreaker ignored the pile-up behind him and followed Bluestreak down the slope into the tent-town, scattering Autobot tourists and cranks alike as he side-slid to a halt. The gunner transformed, stumbled through the rows of tents tearing up guy-ropes without noticing, collapsed on his knees and covered his face with his hands. Sunstreaker skid-stopped to avoid driving over a tent and transformed.
Up until that point it was pure aftermath, good old Bluestreak mashing his gears after blowing a hole through Thundercracker.
Then the humans got involved.
Before Sunstreaker had taken a single step towards his comrade, the first one closed in with a squeak of "Can I have your autograph please?" and then there was another and another and by the time Sunstreaker had gotten past the first tent there were five of them around Bluestreak. Then there was a guy with a colander on his head waving a tape recorder at Bluestreak and making weird shoosh-moosh-booga noises that Sunstreaker could only guess he thought were Cybertronian, and behind him was a human shouting "Aliens go home! Aliens go home!"
She started hitting Bluestreak in the knee with her little squishy fists.
Sunstreaker was halfway to the gunner. A glance over his shoulder informed him that Optimus Prime was too busy helping Wheeljack disentangle himself from the back of his trailer to help at the moment. Bluestreak was staring at the girl punching his knee, doors shaking. Sunstreaker stepped over a tent, narrowly avoiding squelching a human underfoot, and heard what he really didn't want to hear.
"Demon of the Datsun! Fiend from Hell!"
There were seven of them, homing in on Bluestreak like little black-clad missiles, and they could get through the tent-lines faster than Sunstreaker, who had to keep wading as if he was up to his ankles in mines.
They were already onto Bluestreak, who was making little whimpering noises and trying to push them away very, very, very gently.
"Abomination! I cast you out, unclean spirit! Begone from this mortal world!"
One of them was hitting Bluestreak with its book. Hitting him. What did Bluestreak do to deserve that?
Sunstreaker stepped over the last tent and stomped like a Dinobot, jolting off the aliens-go-home girl who'd climbed onto Bluestreak and was yanking on his door. "Hey!" he yelled. "Get away from him!"
Half of them moved back. The other half - the loud half, the half that were going to give Bluestreak nightmares about grabbing hands and yelling faces and hurtful words - stood firm. One turned with book brandished like a weapon.
"Begone, unclean spirit! I cast you out! The power of Christ compels you!"
"No, it doesn't," Sunstreaker replied. "Get away from him before I have to mess up my polish dragging you off."
"The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!" all seven of them started chanting.
Bluestreak lowered his hands a little bit and looked over his shoulder at Sunstreaker, wide-eyed and lost and afraid and confused. Sunstreaker avoided his gaze, glanced back at Prime, still bent worriedly over Wheeljack's crumpled leg, then pulled his gun and fired it into the ground in front of him.
The shot echoed around the desert like a blow of thunder. Dirt exploded up like a dark geyser. A fine rain of tan dust settled over everything for ten metres around. The humans fell silent. Sunstreaker could feel Prime's glare searing holes in his back.
"Back away," Sunstreaker said firmly, fixing the one who'd waved a book at him with a cold glare. "Now."
They backed. Sunstreaker packed his gun away in a fold of space and reached Bluestreak in one stride. He slid his hands under the gunner's doors and pulled him up off his knees. "On your feet, Bluestreak, come on."
Bluestreak looked at him without comprehension. "Why?" It was always 'why?'.
"Because they're idiots and they don't understand," Sunstreaker replied, which was a passable stock answer. "Come on, move your feet. I can't carry you to the road. And mind your doors on my finish."
That did it. "Sorry, Sunstreaker," Bluestreak said sheepishly, with a faint suggestion of a smile.
"Hey, no damage done." Sunstreaker strode over the crater he'd made and led Bluestreak back to the road, where Optimus Prime looked like he'd just about got the audio-bashing prepped and ready to go.
Property damage and intergalactic relations and human feelings be smelted, Sunstreaker thought, Bluestreak's one of my team.
Author's notes & addenda:
Feedback always welcomed.