Halloween Havoc

AUTHORS NOTE: We don't celebrate Halloween here in Australia (except for some die-hard kids!) but I wanted to write something to say Happy Halloween to all the Transfans and FFN Writers/Readers. Hope this amuses you!

Autobot base, outskirts of Tranquillity, All Hallows Eve...

Jazz was examining the front gates of the base very carefully. His optics scanned upwards. The third level up above the entrance seemed about the right height.

He backed up a few steps. Yep, yep, the main offensive gun for the gates was so beautifully positioned. And those two side guns too, wow.

This was going to work just perfectly. Suppressing uncharacteristic evil laughter, Jazz went inside, intent on getting the assistance of one grumpy Weapons Specialist. He found him in the rec room, watching Earth TV channels.


"GAH!" Ironhide almost dropped his energon drink, his body flinching. The startled mech looked around, "What the – JAZZ! Don't do that, fragger!"

Jazz grinned at the pissed-off mech, "I need some help. Some special kind of help. Would you be available to lend me some assistance with the guns at the front gates, right now?"

"Maybe..." Ironhide growled, irritated at being caught unawares. Was he really getting that old that even Jazz could creep up on him?? Bumblebee was the creeping scout expert, Jazz was just an annoying expert.

"Awww, go on, you'll like this," Jazz urged, putting one hand on 'Hides wide black shoulder and pushing.

"Slag it, fine, fine," Ironhide downed the rest of his snack and got to his feet.

Jazz led Ironhide out the front of the base, the black's mech's footsteps thumping along behind him. Jazz was carefully avoiding being noticed by the Twins; Sunstreaker & Sideswipe; on the way. He didn't want those two perpetual devils getting wind of what was going on. This was to be a Jazz-only effort. No interference.

Ironhide grumpily scanned the defences at the front gates, not seeing what needed doing. Another cannon, maybe? "What do you want done, Jazz?"

"Wellll. Lets see. I need that main gun to be retrofitted with pink paintballs, and the sideguns need to have a drop in power and their internal laser canisters replaced with water tanks." Jazz put his hands behind his hips, rocking back and forth on his agile feet, humming to himself.

Ironhide's optics flashed, mouth hanging open. He thought he might start ejecting the energon he'd just consumed. "You WHAT?!"

"I want pink-"

"I HEARD ALL THAT! Just tell me slagging WHY!" Ironhide growled.

"You want this in simple, easy to understand, small words?"


"Look," Jazz sighed, "remember those horrible pranks Sam and Bumblebee played last Halloween? Putting exploding confetti balls and wind noise makers in everyone's joints while they were recharging? So when we woke up-"

Ironhide smirked, oh he remembered, "When we woke and transformed for duty everything exploded. Yeah. Poor Prime. He got the worst of it. Took him a while to find that last one too, that wind noise thing got stuck down his back plates and let off every time he moved. Now what did Sam call it...?"

"A whoopee cushion, I think," Jazz grinned. "I still think he looked nice covered in colored bits of paper too. It was the growling and hissing he was doing that ruined the effect. He could've looked quite stylish, otherwise." Since Optimus was the largest of them, he had the most gaps in his armor to stick confetti bombs and other nasty prank-type things in.

"Mmm," Ironhide chuckled. "He took it alright in the end though. He doesn't have enough willpower to really hurt people. Shame. Always been his problem, that."

"So, can we quickly modify the guns just after sunset? I'll have all the external scanners going on maximum, so if anything happens in terms of Decepticon interference, we'll be alerted quickly enough, and Sam and Bee are due to arrive about 8pm. I got Sam's group email," Jazz explained, looking out at the horizon over the wide deserted plains.

"Yeah kid, I get your drift. I think we can do this, I'll modify the guns. You got the, uh, PINK paintballs?" Ironhide questioned, looking down at his smaller colleague and executive commander.

"Course I do." The small mech raised his head, optic visor in the air loftily, "Jazz is never under-prepared, my friend! Not only are they pink, but they're the paint that doesn't come off easily. Bumblebee will be spending the next few days in the cleaning racks, scrubbing away... poor thing. Heh."

"Good, I like that about you," Ironhide chuckled, slapping him on the shoulder too hard and sending Jazz stumbling forwards with flailing arms until he got his balance. Jazz was too excited to retaliate. He was already running his plan of attack over and over in his head.

He also had a few extra surprises as well, specifically to get back at Sam with. The boy had gotten him good with confetti and a smoke bomb, last Halloween. Jazz had busied himself with watching a few humorous Earth films and picked up a few ideas.

This was going to be so damn good... payback was an Autobot bitch named Jazz!

Later that evening...


Bumblebee's car form sat patiently outside the front entrance, hot engine purring, waiting for the gates to open automatically to his Autobot presence.

They weren't moving.


Still no movement.


Sam hung his arm over the door of the car and stuck his head out the window. "What's going on?" he asked Bumblebee.

"I do not know, Sam. Perhaps they are pre-occupied with some other matter at this present moment?" Bumblebee replied, getting worried himself.

"Too busy to let us heroes in? Nah. This doesn't seem right. Something's going on," Sam mused, tapping his fingers on the door edge.

The bright lights built into the top of the gate were turned on, illuminating Sam and Bumblebee. Ironhide's head appeared over the top of the ledge on the third floor of the building behind the gates. "Can I help you?" he asked vaguely.

"What the crap...? Did he just sound really polite to you?" Sam said, blinking, leaning over the front wheel and peering up through Bumblebee's windscreen.

"Ironhide, please open the gates!" Bumblebee's voice was directed up at the motionless Ironhide.

"Well now," Ironhide propped his folded arms on the balcony ledge, as if he had all the time in the world, "that would depend on you knowing the secret password."

"PASSWORD?! What the fuck...??" Sam gasped.

"Which password?" Bumblebee enquired, bemused. "I can transmit the passcode we've used for most of our bases at home."

"Nope, don't want that. Need the password." Ironhide grinned sadistically.

Sam smirked, blinking at the harsh lights, "Uh, 'please', that's the only password I know off."

"I'm very sorry, but that isn't it. You have one more try left before we turn the autoguns on you, new policy, I'm sure you'll understand," Ironhide informed them.

Sam gripped the steering wheel with white knuckled hands. "BEE!" he screeched in fright. He didn't trust Ironhide. If there was ever an opportunity to shoot something for whatever reason, Ironhide was the first to jump in and do it.

"Did you not attend the secret meeting to get the secret password?" Ironhide asked, doing his best to sound perplexed and worried. Jazz, crouched down at Ironhide's feet, out-of-sight, let loose with a round of muffled snickers. Oh, good one 'Hide! Only he could make the stupid sound stupider.

"NO!!" Bee and Sam yelled at the same time.

"Oh. Opps. Then I can't let you in. Sorry. Make sure you attend the next secret meeting, okay? Now please leave before I'm forced to take offensive action. Action involving shooting you." Ironhide couldn't help but let a portion of glee come through with those words. He started grinning down at them.

"Ironhide, you slaghead! Open the gates!" Bumblebee was losing his patience. He was getting suspicious. Sam grumbled, deciding there was no way they would get shot at, and it was hard to argue with the moron when he was inside the car. He opened Bee's door and got out. He shielded his eyes from the bright lights, trying to make eye contact with Ironhide.

Ironhide peered maliciously down at the Camaro, "Nope, no can do. Oh, and Bumblebee?"


"TRICK OR TREAT! Go for it, Jazz!" Ironhide yelled.

The main gun exploded with a rapid burst of pink paintballs. They slammed into Bumblebee's hood, showering it with pinkness. At the same moment, the two water cannons trained themselves on Sam and let loose.

Sam screamed, holding his hands out in vain to stop the water. He was soaked in an instant. Bumblebee was screeching something angrily in Cybertronian. Ironhide was yelling back in kind. The human was gasping, dancing backwards and sideways to get away from the water shower, but the guns were too good, they followed him precisely. He went to dive back into Bumblebee for cover – not caring that Bee would HATE wet seats! – and found himself diving face first into the mud. Bumblebee had transformed and was trying to duck away from the paintballs aimed at HIM, covering his head with crossed forearms and letting paintballs smash into his armor.

Jazz appeared next to Ironhide, "Next wave of attack!" the smaller mech yelled, handing 'Hide a sack of something. Ironhide hoisted the sack over the edge and tipped it upside down. Chicken feathers poured down everywhere! They stuck to Bumblebee's wet paint while the yellow bot frantically waved his arms in circles to keep them off. Sam was screaming curses – the feathers were sticking to his skin, it was itchy as hell!

Ironhide and Jazz paused for a moment, looking down on the bot and boy screaming and throwing curses. This felt too good! No wonder the Twins did this as a career!

"Now for the final revenge," Jazz smacked his hands together gleefully, and handed Ironhide a large box. "I got these made especially for us. Grab'em and start throwing!"

A virtual horde of cream pies came flying down onto Sam and Bumblebee. Sam couldn't take it any more, and sat down ungraciously in the mud, giggling, letting pies land all over him. He had a 'beard' of cream, feathers stuck all over his body and soaking wet clothes. Bee wasn't much better. He was now a PINK and yellow mech, with feathers sticking out at odd angles all over his armor.

Ever resourceful, and not one to give up easily, Bumblebee had resorted to catching the pies as best he could and throwing them BACK. He wasn't doing too well, the pies were disintegrating mid-air and turning to flying mush.

Jazz picked up the last pie and drew his arm back –

"I'll take that, thank you," a hand snatched the pie from him. Jazz knew that voice. Slag. They were either in deep trouble or in for a whole lot more fun. It depended on what mood Optimus was in.

Optimus Prime leaned his bulk over the balcony edge, perusing the mayhem below. Bumblebee was standing defiantly with hands on hips – never mind that no one could take him seriously when he was pink and covered in feathers and cream. Sam was sticking his fingers into the cream on his upper body and licking it off, making 'mmmm' noises.

"Who was the instigator of the prank party last Halloween?" Optimus enquired graciously, hoisting the pie dangerously in one large hand.

"HE WAS!" Both Bumblebee and Sam cried almost instantaneously, pointing accusing fingers at each other.

"Hmmm," Prime's optics moved from bot to boy. Thinking. "Okay then," he deftly split the pie in two, placing each piece into each of his hands. Then he threw them with shameless accuracy. Each pie half landed smack in the chest of each luckless participant. "Consider yourselves punished," Optimus said with satisfaction, nodding his regal head.

The Leader smirked at the gasping shrieking pair below and turned to Ironhide and Jazz. "I trust you can return the guns to their normal functions and clean up the mess below?" he said, going optic-to-optic with each mech. "I'm only letting this pass since I was also a victim of those two last year, but this episode is not to be repeated. Understood? And open the gates, for Primus' sake."

"Yes sir!" Jazz perked up.

"Yeah," Ironhide drawled, leaning over to laugh some more at his victims down below. Bumblebee had sat himself down in the mud next to Sam. The two were helping each other pick off feathers and wipe clean themselves of cream pie.

Jazz and Ironhide didn't rush to go downstairs. They contented themselves with leaning on the railing and commenting on the scene below. Bumblebee and Sam did their best to ignore them. Revenge payback would come another time.

"Are you guys going away anywhere for Christmas this year?" Sam asked thoughtfully, pulling feathers off his friend.

"No Sam, I don't believe so." Bumblebee shook his fingers, trying to get feathers off. He could pick them off his body with his fingers but then the evil things stuck to his hands!

"Oh good. Because I can totally see us re-doing this entire base with colored lights, rude signs confusing Optimus with Santa, and more exploding presents, of course," Sam explained in a near whisper.

"But I thought your Christmas time was about worshipping a baby in a box?" Bumblebee asked, puzzled, "what does that have to do with pranks?"

Sam howled with laughter, causing a few stray feathers to fluff up into the air. Only a robot would think of Baby Jesus in a cradle as 'baby in a box'!

"Nevermind, Bee. You'll see. We'll get them back good."

"Yes Sam." Bumblebee's optics shone brightly. What had he ever done for amusement before he met this lovable human?