My brother and sister were playing medal of Honor, and I realized that the only games I do are RPG, handheld games. I have no idea how to work a Gamecube or PS1/2 controller. Sad, ain't it.

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Bumblebee played with the chips, optics fastened on the images. Inferno and the rest of the crew chatted quietly. After Bumblebee's insistence, they had spent a single, slightly unusual night together. Red Alert appeared in the doorway, signaling to two of the mechs that is was their turn to take over. Scowling, they left, as slowly others drifted out to do patrols.

Soon the room emptied, except for Bumblebee, Prime, Prowl, Red Alert, Jazz, and Ratchet.

Ratchet murmured quietly, "I talked to Ironhide. He agreed to let Bumblebee be taken care of Jazz for a couple of cycles while he gets some proper recharge. Later on it'll be either the twins or something like that.

Bumblebee giggled as he exploded something on the screen. Then he looked up, smiling brightly. Jazz sauntered over, grinning broadly, and he began playing the video game with Bumblebee. Red Alert shook his head.

"Hey, we need another player for this level! Any takers?" Jazz called back. Before Red Alert could move, he suddenly found himself being sat down in front of the vid. "C'mon Red Alert. You should try."

Red Alert stared at Jazz blankly. "Jazz. I've never played on a vid before."

Jazz nearly dropped his own controller, as Bumblebee looked up with wide optics. "Well then," Jazz said, quickly recovering, "why not let Bumblebee teach you?"

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Inferno walked into a very odd sight. Red Alert sat in front of a screen. Not unusual. He was sitting nearby Jazz and Bumblebee. Ok, slightly unusual. But the game that he was playing… Inferno shook is head as Red Alert crowed in triumph. "Got you stupid alien scum!"

Jazz cursed loudly as his own spaceship exploded. Bumblebee giggled, and Ratchet's wrench flew from nowhere. "Jazz, what have I told you about your language?"

Jazz winced, rubbing the dent in his helm. "Ratchet! That's the third dent-"

"You're going to get more if you don't clean up your language!" Ratchet roared.

Jazz subsided with a mutter.

Red Alert worked the controls fast, his clumsiness and first-time handling being offset by his fast reflexes. "Careful Bumblebee, you nearly flew straight into the trap!"

Bumblebee ignored Red Alert as he flew straight into the trap. Red Alert groaned, and flew his own ship after, racing to protect Bumblebee's ship. Jazz cheered as his own ship recreated itself, and he was back in the game. Once again he charged through the alien spaceships as they attempted to blast their way through.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe entered at that moment, snarling at each other. They stopped at the game that the three were playing, and Sideswipe immediately bounded up. "Give me a controller!"

Red Alert handed off the controller to Sideswipe, who happily began charging into the aliens. Jazz and Sunstreaker began fighting for the second controller, all the while trying to keep the ship from being blown up.

As more and more mechs began gathering, the controllers became more and more sought after. The two controllers became prizes, as Bumblebee ignored the giant mechs who attempted to play with him. At last Red Alert shook his head. "That's it, I'm going."

Bumblebee looked up as Red Alert was about to leave. "Red!"

Red Alert paused. Only Bumblebee and Inferno dared call him that. Bumblebee smiled at Red Alert, saying. "Thank you for playing."

Then he placed down his own controller and merrily skipped off to find Ironhide. Red Alert was left in the middle of the doorway, feeling as if he had just been whacked in the head with Megatron's fusion cannon.

Inferno laughed at Red Alerts expression, guiding the mech out. "You really need a recharge, don't you?"

Red Alert nodded, and as he stumbled off, Bumblebee softly began singing a dirty song that Jazz had taught him…. CLANG!

"OW!"

"JAZZ, you're scrap metal!"

"Aw, slag it! Hatchet's after me!"

Clang! Several wrenches and other healing equipment flew through the air after the rapidly retreating Jazz.

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This has gotta be a bad attempt at humor.. but oh well. It's nearly nine here where I live (at night) and I am exhausted. With finals tomorrow. So wish me luck please.