I wanted to write up a short one since I've been bitten by the writer's block bug. I'm having a tough time finishing my other stuff (and I have a ton of it waiting to be posted, dont worry), so I wrote this as a bit of a warm-up for my mad writing skillz. Again, let me take this time to repeat that all my stories will be posted at some point, nothing is left hanging forever. So if there's a story I've written that hasn't been touched in a while, rest assured that it will be continued. I promise.
This is Not Cybertron
Juana la Cliker-Rooster
The living room was filled with the sounds of two youngsters playing video games as loudly as they could without any regard for whoever else may have been nearby. Every time he won a race, or a fight, Bumblebee would jump to his stabilizing servos, punch the air and holler at the top of his vocals of how he was the kind of gaming. Every time Sari won, she would bounce up and down on the couch and inform Bumblebee that he had 'eaten' her 'dust'. When they both lost, or tied, they argued for a minute or so before the next level started, and the argument would melt away as though it had never happened.
Today was a special day though, and having Bumblebee and Sari around was making it a bad one. Optimus Prime was giving the Elite Guard, freshly arrived on Earth, a tour of their secret base to assure Ultra Magnus that he and his crew were quite capable of remaining where they were, rather than move onto the huge ship they had come in.
"And in here," Optimus said as they entered the living room, 'is our…uh, recreation…center. Where we unwind if need be. There is a device in here known as a 'television' that grants us access to the city's recent news, history, crime and weather. We—" He stopped as Sari jumped up and screamed her victory, jumping up and down on the couch for eleven seconds before plopping back down on her behind to start the next level. Magnus gave Optimus a displeased look before asking him to continue.
"Uh…we use it often before going out on patrol to find if there's anything important that needs our attention."
"Oh, please, Optimus," yawned Sentinel Prime as he stomped through the room, clearly unimpressed, "this is the most down-graded, obsolete base I've ever seen. You're not fooling anyone."
Ultra Magnus was silent as he regarded the room, scanning the walls, the furniture and of course, the two rowdy children playing games. Jazz, of course, walked over to watch the game, and before the two even noticed, he was sitting on the couch and cheering the pixilated characters on. Magnus sighed, then said gruffly,
"Jazz, get back over here. This tour is not complete." Jazz looked over his shoulder, then sighed and whispered to the kids,
"I'll be back. I wanna play too. Cool?"
"Very cool," they answered before turning their attention back to their game. Jazz walked back over to his commander with a dorky grin on his face.
"Uh, okay," stammered Optimus, "Um, down these hallways we have some of our personal living spaces. This one," he pointed to a closed door, "is Prowl's space."
"I'd like to see it," Magnus said suddenly, and Sentinel nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, Optimus. Apparently that freaky little ninja likes organic stuff, and if he keeps it in his room, he may be extremely contaminated."
"He doesn't like to be…."
"That's an order," interrupted Ultra Magnus, "I would like to see it. Now." Optimus was at a dead end, there was nothing he could do. Sighing, he knocked on the door and awaited Prowl's reply.
"Come in," he called a few seconds later. Optimus opened the door and the four of them found Prowl standing there, under his tree, a squirrel on his shoulder, arms crossed and very, very angry. Sentinel stepped back in shock and gasped, while Ultra Magnus' mouth dropped ever so slightly.
"I…" Magnus began, "Ninja, I order you to clear this room out and remove the organic infest—"
"Absolutely not," Prowl snapped at the Supreme Commander, much to Optimus' horror and shock, "I will not."
"Youngling, this is not up for nego-"
"Exactly," Prowl growled, his visor flashing, "I know I'm not an important 'bot, but you are going to listen, and you're going to listen well. You are not on Cybertron, you are on Earth. Earth is an organic planet, and it would die if it were not. This tree and this organic creature belong here, and they will stay here. You do not own this planet, you have not lived on this planet, you have never even been here before. We have lived here for a year now, and this tree has done nothing to harm anyone. I've been a Autobot my whole function, but hearing you give orders to remove this tree makes me feel more like I'm part of a Decepticon party: close-minded, intolerant, ignorant, censoring and pathetic. Do not go to a planet just to ruin it, Ultra Magnus. You and your men will not go near this tree or the other organics, and if you do, I will rip out your opt—"
"That's enough, Prowl!" Optimus yelled, moving forward and snatching Prowl's arm, "I'm so sorry, Ultra Magnus, sir, he's not usually like this. I'll punish him for speaking so—"
"No," said Ultra Magnus, bowing his head ever so slightly (was that shame in his optics?), "He's right. I have no right to change this world. I apologize for my rash behavior, Ninja."
"Apology accepted," answered Prowl as he yanked his arm out of Optimus' iron grip, "and just so you know, Sentinel Prime has a very biased idea of what an organic planet is, so if I were you, I would not listen to any more of his so-called 'experience'. If you want to learn more, I will gladly assist you. I know much about the organics and their land, having spent most of my free time observing and reading about it."
"Don't you try to fool the Commander," growled Sentinel as he stepped forward, "Otherwise you may find yourself back on Cybertron and in front of a—"
"Sentinel, chill dude," interrupted Jazz as he stepped forward to speak, "He's right. That little organic back in the rec room is sittin' with Bumblebee, and I've seen him holdin' and playin' with her. He's not sick, he's not going off-line, he isn't emptyin' his fuel tanks or meltin'. He's fine. I think you just need to reevaluate your understandin' of organics. One organic planet does not speak for all of 'em, y'know."
"Thank you, Jazz," said Prowl, "it's true. Sari is harmless and very sweet. She's easy to love, I promise." Sentinel grit his dental plating in annoyance, ready to slap the insubordinate little ninja across the face, but Ultra Magnus placed a strong, worn servo on his shoulder and said,
"I agree with Jazz. We've both been somewhat…intolerant of this planet, and we shouldn't be. We want to make a good impression on these people, and being phobic around them will make matters worse. Let's try to be a little more open-minded. Prowl, thank you. I will most likely ask for your assistance later. Optimus, please show us the rest of your base."
Optimus stared, still in disbelief at Prowl and the slightest of grins on his dark face before snapping back into the conversation and replying awkwardly,
"Oh, right. Yes…uh, okay, if you turn left, we'll find Bulkhead's room…" They left Prowl's room, Optimus' vocals trailing away as they walked. Prowl offered his servo to the squirrel still resting on his shoulder and waited patiently for it to leave its perch. He placed it back on the tree, then sat down to meditate quietly, feeling extremely proud of himself. He had not expected himself to actually go through with saying what he'd wanted to say since the Elite Guard had arrived, but now that he had, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
Now if he could just get Sari and Bumblebee (and Jazz, he learned an hour later) to stop shrieking every time they won a game….