YAY for transformers! This idea had been eating away at my head for a while now.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will. Plots mine though.
The time was 0330 hours.
In other terms, it was 3:30 am, half past three, Son las tres y medio, halb vier, san ji han, or however the hell you wanted to say it.
Point was it was way too slaggin' early in the morning for Sunstreaker to be dealing with this.
"Sunny?" Ignore him and he'll go away. "Wake up sunshine!" Sunstreaker withheld a growl. "Get up."
Ignore him. Ignore him.
"Come on Sunny! Get your sorry aft up. I need your help." There was a brief blessed silence. At least until the hell spawn standing over him actually scoffed at his efforts of faking recharge. "I know you're awake, and I will get you up. I have my ways you know." He could hear the devilish smirk in his twin's voice.
'You wouldn't dare.'
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine …"
'Sideswipe…'Sunstreaker glowered warningly in his thoughts. He had a long day (human jails were horribly cramped) and simply wanted to recharge in peace.
"You make me happy
when skies are gray!"
"Sideswipe," he grumbled just barely above whisper.
"You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away."
To give Sunstreaker credit he lasted through three and a half versus of the song, one sung in a fake falsetto, before cracking and throwing the nearest thing he could grab, a data pad, at Sideswipe. His twin merely sidestepped the projectile all while grinning maniacally.
"What do you want?" Sunstreaker snapped at the current bane of his recharge.
"I have come up with a brilliant prank, my little Dandelion of Doom," he relayed to his brother blithely.
"Slag off. I'm going back to recharge." Sunstreaker rolled over, but Sideswipe would have none of that.
"Aww, Sunny. I need your artsy skills. That and I don't wanna do it with out my Sulky Sunflower. What about brotherly bonding?" he whined despondently.
"How about I bond you to a flame torch? And, if you compare me to one more primitive, organic, pollen plant, you automatically sign away all rights to your internals and give me all privileges to remove and rearrange them as I please."
"Hm, I kind of like the flame torch idea. Imagine the possibilities. The seekers I could fry! The Decepticons I could weld to cluster bombs." Sideswipe quietly snickered to himself. "Still back to more pressing matters…" Sideswipe pulled on his largest, wobbling, innocent, Sparkling eyes, and the expression humans often called, 'The puppy dog pout' graced his handsome features with dastardly adorable effects. "Pleeeeeeeease Sunny? For me? Suuunnnyy?" He dropped to his knees, clasped his hands together, and shuffled himself to the side of his brothers recharge berth.
Sunstreaker groaned at the pathetic display, long since immune to the pitiable cuteness. Sideswipe truly had no dignity, and would be relentless until Sunstreaker agreed to help him. Prolonging the inevitable would only cut into Sunstreaker's recharge time further. Also, while he avoided Sideswipe's schemes like a plague most of the time one time couldn't hurt.
"Fine. I'll help you. But this is a one time deal and right after I'm going back to sleep," he said attempting to force down the smile tugging at the corners of his lips, to no avail.
"Now that's the Destructive Daffodil I know and love!" Sideswipe skillfully ducked and avoided being hit by an empty canister of polish aimed for his head.
The victims had been Trailbreaker and Hound. They weren't the usual targets, and Sideswipe rarely did anything to either of them. Yet he figured that the two of them were probably feeling "left out" from not getting the Lamborghini's attention. Being the ever noble, charitable philanthropist that he was, he decided to remedy that.
The plan (which included a wonderful invention of the humans called duct tape, a mirror, and various colors of paint) had been successfully executed. The brothers snuck into Trailbreaker and Hound's quarters, set up their prank with out the formerly mentioned two waking up, and then stood to admire their work.
"Well I think this was a success. What do you think my brother?" Sideswipe inquired dubiously to his twin.
"I think it was pleasantly simple, and well done. All there is to do now is wait until they wake up later." Sunstreaker snickered, thoroughly amused with the results of his artistic handiwork.
"And now time to skirt away from the scene of the crime, and disappear quietly into the night," Sideswipe whispered dramatically for effect. There would be suspicions, of course, that the lambotwins were responsible, but with nothing to pin them to the scene of the crime, nothing too horribly could be done to either of them.
All there was left to do was slink quietly, and skillfully, away from the scene of the crime.
Sideswipe walked to the door and pressed the button on the wall that opened the entrance. However, the door didn't move. He pressed the button again, but nothing happened that time either.
That wasn't part of the plan.
"Sideswipe?" Sunstreaker questioned him nervously, his grin wilting off his face.
"Uh, just hang on an astrosecond." Sideswipe abandoned the button and attempted opening the door manually. When it didn't budge, he tried again with a bit more force. It stuck firm. "Wuh-oh."
"Wuh-oh?" Sunstreaker gritted. "What the frag does Wuh-oh indicate?"
"It indicates that the door's stuck." Sideswipe's straight and to the point remark threw Sunstreaker off for several seconds.
"You can't be serious." Sunstreaker gaped as Sideswipe attempted shoving the door upwards with brute strength.
"Slag, slag, slag, slag." Sideswipe's hands slid up the metal as he pushed, but the door remained tight and true, not shifting an inch.
"You've have got to be freakin' kidding me." The yellow warrior ghosted to his brother's side and tried lifting the door up from the bottom. It remained steadfast. "We're stuck in here!? Do you know what Prowl will do to us if he finds us here?" Sunstreaker whispered heatedly.
"We'll either be scrubbing the Ark until either of the following: A, we wear it down to nothing, or B, are as old as Cybertron," Sideswipe started. "Or we'll be locked up in the brig until we're diminutive piles of rust flakes," The red mech answered in a low voice.
"You." Sunstreaker jabbed Sideswipe in the chest with a finger, and moved in so his face was almost touching his brother's. "This is your fault and you sure as slag better get us out of this. I do not want to have another run in with Prowl in the same 24 hours. I am not going to the brig because you..." jab, "...were stupid enough to lock us in," he hissed menacingly.
"I didn't lock us in; the door's not working. And this situation's not that bad. As the humans say, all clouds have a silver lining you know." Sideswipe raised his hands defensively in attempt to pacify his irate brother despite the fact his own annoyance was growing as well.
"Not mushroom shaped ones," Sunstreaker retorted agitatedly. "And that's the only kind of cloud you'll be seeing if we ever get out of here."
"You make it sound like we're marching to the executioner or something." Sideswipe made a motion that made it seem like he was rolling his optics.
"We will be," Sunstreaker said blandly.
"Well stop complaining and help me with the stupid door!"
And as the Lambotwins struggled with the inactive exit, Trailbreaker and Hound slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of any of the events that had gone on, and were taking place, inside of their quarters.
It had been a rather, productive day for Prowl. A long, tedious, yet productive day.
Prime was away on a rare leave to check up on the situation in Cybertron. So Prowl, being the second in command, had to take over Prime's duties as well as keep up with his own.
The events of the day included locating Jazz's missing Led Zeppelin, Simon and Garfunkel, and Stevie Wonder tapes (Blaster had borrowed them and forgot to inform Jazz of this), scraping Gears and Blades off of a wall (Windcharger accidentally overcharged the air again), keeping Ratchet from killing Tracks, and bailing Sunstreaker out of jail. Apparently the yellow mech had been speeding. So a cop pulled him over and routinely asked him if he knew how fast he was going. Sunstreaker promptly replied with, "You should know A-hole you're the one that pulled me over." Things took off from there.
Also, quite a few of the doors in the Ark had been malfunctioning recently. That matter had been addressed, but none of them were entirely sure if the problem had been completely solved yet.
Finally, with all of the day's events behind him, he was able to get around to finishing his own work. It took him deep into the night, and by the time he was done with everything, it was already early morning of the next day. Since he would have to wake up in only two and a half hour's anyway, there was no point in going to sleep this far into the game. Instead, he planned on using the free time to begin a book file Jazz had gotten a hold of for him called A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. He had been meaning to read it for a while.
With a mug of medium grade energon, he made himself comfortable in his desk chair, picked up the file, and then quickly set it back down on his desk as a muffled thump sounded off in the distance.
He'd bet his front axel that the twins were up to something again.
It looked like he wasn't going to be reading his book file anytime soon. After all, keeping the destructive duo from blowing up the Ark (or super gluing minibots to the ceiling again) took priority over a leisurely read.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had come up with a new tactic. If they couldn't get the door to open normally, then they'd just have to go through it.
Both had long since given up being quiet seeing as Hound and Trailbreaker hadn't so much as stirred after the twins had accidentally tripped over each other and crashed loudly, and painfully, into the wall. They were now simply desperate to get out of the confinement of their teammates room.
Their tactic included ramming themselves against the door in order to break it down, and pray to Primus that no one heard it. Even Sunstreaker complained minimally about the damage it would cause his shoulders considering that worse would be done to him if they got caught in the act of a prank.
The door was proving to be a worthy adversary. The two warrior mechs had barely dented it when they hurled their selves at it. Sideswipe could almost feel the door mocking them, laughing at them. It was a conspiracy! A CONSPIRACY!
He apparently had been around Red Alert too often.
Sunstreaker halted abruptly as Sideswipe rammed himself into the door repeatedly a few more times like a bee trying to get through a glass window.
"Sunstreaker. What are you doing?" Sideswipe also stopped. His brother gave him a dull look.
"You have pile drivers," he said flatly. Sideswipe paused a moment to ponder this before realization dawned on him.
"Oh yeah." a wicked grin graced his features.
Well... this was a surprise.
Prowl found himself situated in front of Trailbreaker's and Hound's quarters, the source of the incessant banging.
He could've sworn it would be tweedledumb and tweedledumber making the commotion, but apparently this one time he had been off the mark.
If only he knew…
Abruptly, the noise stopped. Prowl paused a moment and then walked up to the door. He was about to knock when suddenly, the door was blown out of its frame with incredible force. The last thing Prowl saw was a titanium and steel alloy wall coming at him.
"We're free!" Sideswipe, who had fallen over when the door gave out to his pile drivers, threw his hands in the air from his position on the floor. Quickly, he scrambled up and looked to see Sunstreaker still standing in the doorway, optics wide with incredulity. "What?" he inquired. The gold mech pointed shakily to the floor. Sideswipe whirled around, and felt his cheery disposition from the newly acquired freedom take a nosedive.
Both twins went slack jawed, their processors freezing to the core, in realization of what happened.
Prowl was lying face down, spread eagle, unmoving with a rather large nasty dent decorating the back of his helm. The blasted out door was lying, bent at almost a 90 degree angle, next to him.
"Prowl?" Sideswipe edged foreword cautiously. The Datsun didn't respond. "Prooowl?" He lightly nudged the second in command on the side with the tip of his foot.
He still didn't move. Sideswipe sent his brother a panicked look, and the yellow warrior met it with his own trepidation laced stare.
Sideswipe felt renewed appreciation for his egocentric brother.
Friends may give you an alibi, but brothers help you hide the body.
Trailbreaker and Hound still didn't stir.
It had been a long day. Ratchet could almost swear that the Autobots seemed to get themselves more damaged on their own time then when against the Decepticons. In fact, if anything, their battle injuries seemed to be the lesser evil at times. Those injuries often distracted the Autobots long enough to prevent them from harming themselves worse through other forms of stupidity.
Since the Decepticons hadn't attacked in nearly a week, and the med bay wasn't flooded with its usual injured, Ratchet decided he would take the time to organize everything and take inventory of the medical equipment and provisions. It was necessary to do relatively frequently so he could keep track of certain medical supplies they might be running low on. It was a time consuming job, and best done when there wouldn't be any interruptions or other matters that interfered.
All had been going well right up until Tracks entered supporting a dinged up, limping Ironhide. Ratchet growled, helped Ironhide on to one of the med tables, and asked what happened to get the old veteran in such bad shape.
For some reason, Ironhide and Tracks had been on patrol together. It was an odd combination, but it had been on Prowl's orders. The second in command's reason behind it had been something about the usual pairings getting stale. So it was best for the team if the soldiers grouped with people they were not used to working with. Ratchet simply concluded that Prowl must have been bored and was looking for entertainment. Especially, after he paired Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker together for monitor duty. Primus knows that did not end well. Ratchet spent most of that day re-rearranging Cliffjumper's manifolds, and removing shrapnel from Sunstreaker's backside.
Anyway, back to the initial story. It had started to rain, and Tracks and Ironhide were almost done with patrol anyway so they decided to return to the Ark to escape the wetness.
From what Ratchet was told, some crappy, rusted, scrapheap of a Toyota Corolla (Track's words, not his) fender-bendered Tracks (here Ironhide intervened saying that it was more of an accidental bump that barely left a hairline scratch.). Regardless, Tracks had been infuriated by the "damage" done to his beloved alt mode and pursued said scrapheap in a chase reaching speeds they were sure weren't legal on the interstate. Poor Ironhide couldn't do anything but chase after them and yell apologies to the Police officers they sped past
That was where events took a turn for the worst. Some how the Toyota was able to shake Tracks off when it exited off onto the highway. Tracks, stupidly, attempted to follow it at the speed he had been going, but the wet road caused him to hydroplane right into the middle of traffic.
And then poor Ironhide took one for his teammate, and shoved Tracks out of the oncoming onslaught of cars to the curve right before being plowed into by a speeding fire truck. That lead them to there situation in the med bay.
As Ratchet was trying to work on Ironhide's knee (his legs got the brunt of the collision), Tracks continued to moan and groan about the "damage" the Toyota caused and how when Ironhide brutally shoved him, his paintjob got mussed ("You know. I coulda just left ya there you little ungrateful..." –Ironhide) Finally, Ratchet had to threaten Tracks with severing his vocal cords to make the Chevrolet Corvette shut up.
Ironhide simply chuckled at the threat, seemingly unphased by the fact Ratchet was still cutting into his knee joint with his laser scalpel even though his gaze was aimed at Tracks instead of the task at hand, and said something about Tracks not wanting to mess with Ratchet's Arkansas toothpick (1).
"The hell is an Arkansas toothpick?" Ratchet grumbled to himself. He could not seem to figure out where on Earth Ironhide picked up that southern drawl of his or its slang. Probably, when he learned English, it was the closet thing to the particular dialect of Cybertronian he spoke and that's why he chose it.
Well, the whole fiasco sent him back several hours, despite the fact that Wheeljack jumped in to assist him, and he was forced to sacrifice some of his recharge time in order to make sure the inventory was done properly. He checked his internal clock to find that the time was nearly 0420 hours and sighed.
Taking one final sweep of the room to see that nothing was amiss, he turned to Wheeljack. "I think we're done for the night."
"Kay. Just let me go over this direct semiconductor detector one last time." Wheeljack waved not looking up from the strange machine he was tinkering about with.
Ratchet walked up to the med bay's door, but refrained from opening it as a shuffling noise entered his audio receptors. Was someone up? Puzzled, he leaned so one audio sensor was placed against the door. He focused his hearing so he could listen to what was going on clearer. There was clamoring in the hall. Then someone began speaking, and Ratchet zeroed in on the voices echoing in the passage.
"Sunny. Sunny be careful!"
"Shut up Sides. I've got it under control."
Oh, sweet Primus it was the twins. The sun wasn't even up and they were already directing their warpath of devastation and idiocy in his direction.
"Sunny. Sunny stop! You're going to drop-," CLANG, "him."
Ratchet blanched. Him? What ever they had done it probably wasn't good, "What the hell have those moronic, spawns of the pit done now?" Silently he opened the door and entered the hall, walking mutely in the direction of the voices.
"His doors kept hitting my shins! Do you have any idea how much buffing it's going to take to get these scuff marks out? And you keep directing me into door frames. Why the hell am I the one walking backwards anyway?"
"Because you grabbed his arms and that's the direction he was facing. Now pick him back up!"
"To hell with that. Trade places with me."
"Fine!" scuffling, "There. Are you happy now? Let's get a move-," CLANG, "Sunstreaker! Why do you keep…You know what! Frag you! I'll take him myself!"
"Well fine! Frag you too! Do it yourself then."
"Fine! I will."
Snickering. "I'm not sure dragging him was the best idea. That's an interesting skid mark on the ground though."
"Sunstreaker, I can't pick him up on my own. Please help me." Silence. "Sunstreakeeer," there was pleading in this voice.
"If I seem to give a damn, please tell me. I would hate to be giving the wrong impression."
"This is your entire fault anyway."
"Why the heck is this all my fault? You slaggin helped!"
"I was sleeping when you dragged me into this hellish setup."
"This is as much your fault as it is mine so help me."
"I beg to differ. Whose idea caused this, hmm?"
"You think our dear CMO is going to care whose idea it was if he finds out, Mr. use-your-pile-drivers-Swipes?"
"Fine." Sunstreaker growled. He grabbed both of Prowls legs and they began there merry shuffle to the med bay.
The plan was simple. Carry Prowl to the med bay, leave him by the door, knock, and then flee like the wrath of the inferno was at their ankles. Though, if they were actually given a choice, Sideswipe seriously considered taking his chances with the Pit's wrath, over Ratchet's wicked fury.
"Let's hurry up. All of that racket we were making might have…" Sunstreaker suddenly froze, almost tearing Prowl's arms from Sideswipe's grip with his abrupt halt.
"Sunny? What're you…" Sideswipe trailed off seeing his brother's gaze aimed past his head. Slightly apprehensive, he glanced over his shoulder to where his brother had been staring.
Ratchet was staring at them both, but instead of his apoplectic fury there was another expression written across his face. Complete utter shock and bewilderment laced his features as he looked back and forth between the comatose Prowl and the two hellions carrying the Tactician.
No one spoke for several moments and they all stood in an awkward silence.
"What did you two do?" Ratchet gaped in complete disbelief. Sideswipe opened his mouth to speak but Ratchet cut him off sharply, "Don't say a word, and get him to the med bay now."
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared worried glances. Ratchet's cold anger was much scarier then his normal heated fury.
They carried Prowl, without dropping him this time, and set him on his side on one of the tables. Wheeljack was surprised to see them all and Prowl in that condition. Still, he decided to not ask questions and simply did what Ratchet asked of him.
The twins stood silently by the wall as Ratchet worked wordlessly on removing the dent on the back of Prowls head.
"Give me one reason," Ratchet started breaking the silence, "Why I shouldn't beat the slag out of you two, rebuild you both as tricycles, and dump you both off the side of a cliff."
"Um… Because you love us?" Sideswipe tried giving Ratchet his best, sweet, childlike smile, but the menacing look Ratchet countered it with made him drop his gaze to the floor and shift uncomfortably.
"His auditory system and optical systems appear to be functioning fine. It's just that nasty dent I'm worried about." Ratchet frowned at Wheeljack's words. Head injuries and dents were a delicate matter to deal with since so many vital systems were either located or controlled by the cranial area.
"Well, I have the dent fixed. Wheeljack, I want you to do a scan of all of Prowl's internal systems, just incase any thing in his cranial unit was damaged."
"Will do Ratchet." Wheeljack placed a metal circlet on Prowls helmet, connecting him to the scanner. He then chuckled happily to himself: the twins were in for it now.
"You two." Ratchet snapped his head in the direction of the twins. "I wanna have a word with you both."
The twins dropped their heads in guilt as they followed the CMO out of the med bay and into the hall. Wheeljack chuckled at their kicked puppy dispositions as the left.
As all of this was happening, something rather interesting was happening up in Prowl's head.
Searching for connection to CPU.
Connection denied. No signal. Access to CPU and OS failed.
Connection impaired. Rerouting main functions. Functions rerouted to BC.
Connection to Battle Computer successful.
Objective: unhindered self repair. Rewire and Reconnect to CPU.
Battle computer status- Survival mode. Remove all threats to the objective.
Presence affirmed. Target located. Profiling subject, searching for match in back up files.
Subject is the Autobot Wheel jack: Code reference: The Biohazard. Occupation: Inventor/Mechanic, also occasional assistant to Welder Harpy. Has a history of destructive actions, exploding devices and all around unpleasant results due to, theorized, cranial instabilities. Has jeopardized several, including self, in haphazard antics.
Sub-objective: remove detrimental object.
Wheeljack jumped in surprise at the beeps coming from the scanner. He turned around to see that a lot of activity was being recorded on the scanner machine juxtaposed next to Prowl. Suddenly, Prowls optics flickered to life and the Datsun, slowly but surely, rose to a sitting position.
"Oh hey, Prowl! Wow you weren't down for the count too long." Wheeljack chuckled softly.
Prowl said nothing, and gave Wheeljack a calculating look.
"How are ya feeling?"
There was no reply.
"I bet your feeling real disoriented most likely. No worries though. If anything is wrong with your systems the scanner would have caught it. Now let's see." Wheeljack walked to the scanner and read the information on the screen. His metal brow knitted in confusion at the readings. "That's weird. It said your CPU is disconnected and dormant. But that can't be or else you wouldn't be sitting up."
Prowl stared coolly at the back of Wheeljack's head.
"Maybe Ratchet and I overlooked something in inventory or, oh." Wheeljack finished looking over the reading. "Uh oh."
"Do you have any idea on what you two slaggin' idiots have done!?" Ratchet fumed. "You two have done some moronic things in the past but this takes the oil cake. You incapacitated a ranking officer! Do either of you have any idea on the repercussions of this act? Do you? This is a serious offense! You both could be court marshaled and sent to the brig for who knows how long! Where the hell do you two glitches think we are? Back in the Youth sectors in Sparkling daycare? This is a war!"
"It was an accident…"
"An accident? Do you know how serious head injuries can be!? You both may have severely hurt Prowl! A fellow Autobot and teammate! Do you two know what Optimus would do to you both if he found out? DO YOU!?" Sideswipe noticeably flinched. This was the first time a prank of his backfired badly enough to really hurt a fellow Autobot (in the physical sense anyway), and he could tell that even Sunstreaker felt bad about it. "But you know what? I'm not going to tell Prime." Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe snapped their gazes up to Ratchet in surprise. "No. When Prowl wakes up, I'm going to let him deal with you."
Before Ratchet could unleash more of his fury upon the destructive duo, his rant was cut off by a shriek that sounded off in the general vicinity of the medical area. The three mechs paused briefly then made a dash for the med bay.
The twins were first to reach it, but when they entered they rooted themselves to the ground and stared blandly ahead. Ratchet had to shove past the two obstructions to get inside. "Wheeljack! What's wro-" Ratchet sputtered in surprise at seeing the mechanic.
Sideswipe remained silent for all about three more seconds before he began to cackle gleefully, his brother quickly followed in suit.
Wheeljack had been welded, upside down, to the wall.
"What the hell?!" Ratchet gaped." What happened?"
"Ratchet! Thank goodness you're here!" Wheeljack's voice was saturated with relief. "We have a huge problem. It's about Prowl's readings…"
"Hey, where is Prowl?" Sunstreaker looked around the med bay only to see that the second in command was clearly not there.
"Hang on, Jack. I'll get you down. While I do that, I need you tell me everything that happened." Ratchet went to where his tray of medical tools was and reached for a laser scalpel only to grope at air. In shock, he looked to see that all of his tools were gone. "What the…" he moved over to the medical cabinets and began sifting through the drawers and cabinets only to find that all of the handheld equipment was missing.
"Um, yeah. You're not going to find anything. Prowl kind of took it all, even all of the spare paint canisters we keep, after he welded me to the wall…" Wheeljack trailed off.
"Wait, you mean Prowl; mister stoic, antisocial, workaholic, calculating Prowl; welded you to the wall, stole all of the medical equipment in under five minutes, and did this all after being attacked by a door?" Sideswipe raised a brow not buying it.
Completely missing the sarcasm in the red and black mech's voice, Wheeljack attempted wiggling his head in a nodding motion. "Yeah! He said something about confiscating… the Welder Harpy's projectiles. I'm not quite sure what he meant by that…" He paused, and after seeing the three occupants giving him their undivided attention he continued, "But I think that dent in the back of his head had something to do with it. From what I gather from the scan, it seems Prowl's memory has crashed."
"His memory crashed," Ratchet said flatly, seriously irked that everything they had just spent hours doing inventory on was now gone.
"What. You mean like those human soap operas that Trailbreaker watches, amnesty?" Sideswipe questioned.
"Amnesia," Sunstreaker corrected.
"Sweat Primus, we broke Prowl!"
"Not exactly. You see, crashed probably wasn't the correct term. It's more like his memory has become disconnected from the rest of his body and is currently in a dormant state," Wheeljack elaborated.
Sideswipe could feel Ratchet's and his brother's glares burning a hole through him.
"How is he awake in that state? If his CPU was severed from his body, he should be in a stasis until self repair rebooted it or I reconnected it," Ratchet asked in doubt. "Also, that doesn't explain the… behavioral issue you claim."
"Uh… Well… That's actually the problem. According to the scanner's readings, in compensation for lack of memory to function by, his battle computer took over."
Ratchet stood in stunned silence, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're doomed."
"It can't be that bad," Sideswipe spoke.
"Oh yes it can. Prowl's battle computer can compute the paths of movement for 800 separate moving objects and determine the proper countermove in half a second. So take that and the fact that he has nearly every kind of warfare and tactic loaded onto it. Now, with out Prowl's conscious to affect its calculations and objectives, in this state, Prowl is as dangerous to the Autobots as he is to the Decepticons. If not worse now."
"Yeah, and considering the fact he jumped me with a spot welder for no reason doesn't bode well for the direction of logic his calculations are taking," Wheeljack mumbled.
"Damn. I could easily fix the problem with a little electro shock therapy, but the problem is I need Prowl first. Where'd he go?" the cranky medic asked agitatedly.
"He said something about successfully incapacitating the 'Biohazard', I think he was talking about me, but I'm not sure… Then he went, I think, left somewhere. I couldn't exactly turn my head to look… Wow, I'm getting kind of dizzy. I did hear him mention something about scanning the premises for hazards to the objective, or whatever that meant… Oh gee, I'm definitely feeling woozy now."
"This is just perfect." Ratchet pressed a button on his forearm. "Autobot Ratchet to Jazz. Jazz wakeup," Ratchet spoke into his comlink. The line crackled to life and a very sleepy sounding Jazz responded.
"Ratchet? What the… what's the situation?" The special operations officer spoke tiredly.
"We have a huge problem, level 3 and escalating. Meet me in the command center. I'll explain everything there."
"Got it," Jazz responded halfheartedly and the connection went dead. Ratchet whirled around to face the Lamborghini twins behind him.
"You two screwed up big time." Though Ratchet was speaking to both of the twins, his black glower seemed to be specifically aimed at Sideswipe. "Come with me. You both started this mess and you both are sure as hell going to help fix it." The angry medic marched to the exit with both Lambos in step behind him.
It was too damn early for any of this.
Wheeljack stared at their retreating forms. "Uh, guys? I'm still kind of… you know stuck… Sooo… Ah never mind. They'll come back. At some point… Eheh, Wow. All my fluids are rushing to my head… Hehehe. What a funny feeling." Wheeljack went silent and chose a rather nice piece of fuzz floating through the air to focus on.
They would come back.
Multiple presences affirmed. Targets located. Profiling subjects, searching for matches in back up files.
Subject A- Ratchet: Code reference: Welder Harpy. Occupation: CMO. Is a medic. Treats injury. Has history of launching projectiles in the likes of medical tools (arc welder, wrenches, etc) at the forms of patients after healing them. Has a rather colorful vocabulary which is utilized in threatening own medical patients. Unstable and dangerous if caught in his presence at wrong times.
Subject B- Sunstreaker: Code reference: Sociopathic Sunflower. Occupation: soldier. Competent soldier on the battle field. However, is a noticeable egotist, is extremely difficult to communicate with, and is dangerously violent. Often causes majority of brawls in the vicinity which then in turn, sends beings into the clutches of the welder harpy. Possible deal agreement between the two? Regardless, approach with caution.
Subject C- Sideswipe: Code reference: The Spawn. Occupation: soldier. Is also a competent soldier like Sociopathic Sunflower. However, is in many ways worse than his brother. Causes mayhem to all general factions and occupants, and shortens the life of the many he terrorizes with his evil. This one is the most detrimental out of all three and must be dealt with accordingly.
All three subject's status: Detrimental.
Further scanning of location, the Ark, determines that all other occupants are also threats.
New objective: debilitate all detriments.
New tactic: stay hidden.
(1) Southern slang for a really big knife.
First chapters up! So what do you think? It was incredibly fun to write.
Anyway, reviews are loved, constructive criticism appreciated and flames used to toast marshmallows.