Summary : Ratchet's list of Wheeljack caused mishaps that incurred a loss of the left hand, starting from their youngling days to the time they arrive on Earth.
Disclaimer : Transformers, Ratchet, and Wheeljack, are the property of Hasbro. I'm just playing with them.
Rating : I'm going to go with T on this one. Just don't try any of this at home, kids.
Author's Note : Right peeps. I'm sorry for the long silence. My muse for this story kicked my aft and left me for some other story that had more action to it. I can't recall who asked for this, but whoever you are, this is for you.
Yeah, so that fanfic crackdown I'm getting a little annoyed at. Some of the oldest stories I've ever read for Transformers started out as simple slash or pornography, and evolved to have some of the twistiest story lines I've ever read. And it's not just that genre either, cause Mopps' Out of the Dust She Rises has one pornographic chapter in it near the end, but it's the coolest story I've ever read about the effects of a psychotic breakdown as it happens and how to deal with those who have been brainwashed, including the reconditioning of a human mind.
If you all would like to give me an email address just in case something happens to this or another of my stories and I have to post it elsewhere, you can drop me a line at : the (underscore) demonic (underscore) lady (at) hotmail (dot) com. Send me an email with your pen name so I know who to alert. Just please don't sign me up for spam.
Number Fourteen on the List - Prowl
In the weirdest role reversal in the Academy's history, Prowl was the one now stalking Jazz around the Academy grounds.
For some odd reason that no bot other than he could surmise, the silver young mech would do everything in his considerable range of talented tricks to avoid any area he knew that the black and white Praxian could be found in. Jazz even went to great painstaking lengths to avoid the other Enforcers in training, knowing that the bots that trained with the tactically inclined youngling would inform him if they spotted even a glimpse of his silver paint.
Prowl could be seen living up to his designation and prowling around the campus, hunting for his reluctant sort of friend. Having dealt with Jazz constantly for nearly an entire vorn by now, the young Praxian mech had learned a few tricks to keep up with the energetic and multi-talented mech. He even gave up his strictly regimented routine, calculating that he had a greater probability with that in catching his strangely acting friend even if it did make him late on rare occasions, unnerving a few of the instructors.
Wheeljack was more than a little upset that his bid to corral Jazz into getting some help had backfired so badly, but he figured that he had done enough damage and should keep his helm down, especially since if Ratchet found out what he had done it wouldn't be pretty for him.
Puttering about his highly reinforced lab down in the engineering bay's basement, the mini inventor was badly startled to turn around and suddenly see a rather piqued Prowl nearly glaring at his back. "Wheeljack, I find myself in need of assistance."
"… Ratchet's not going to like this, is he?"
Ratchet was supposed to be studying. Suppose to be being the key words there. He had final exams coming up, and although he was nearly a fragging genius with medical repair, even he needed to hit the text files on occasion.
Instead, he got a mostly panicked transmission from Wheeljack right before he even touched his data pad containing a garbled, rushed apology for what he was about to do, something about bots going off the deep end, and that he was really, really sorry. Alarmed, the mini medic contacted his cadre of expert Wheeljack wranglers, half of which had gotten the green and white mechling in trouble before, but none of them knew what the inventor was going on about.
And if it wasn't one of them, Ratchet was afraid that his explosive best friend had finally gotten into something he couldn't excitedly babble his way out of.
So following the well-established procedure that involved Wheeljack's more memorable volatile incidents, the medic rallied the bots he could, alerted the Enforcers, and sent a transmission to the Academy's trainers to keep the other students in well-fortified buildings.
Oddly enough, although the red and white young mech could contact Jazz, he hadn't heard back from Prowl yet.
With Hoist stationed at the dorms, Ironhide and Orion Pax patrolling the grounds, Red Alert and Inferno with the Enforcers in the courtyard, Aerial and her femme friend Acree scouting out the other buildings that had seen a Wheeljack incident before, and Perceptor with the instructors, Ratchet took Jazz and headed straight for his best friend's lab.
At first glance it didn't look like anything was out of place, the inventor would never be known for neatness but had managed to force some measure of order to the disaster zone he worked in. But the silver young mech, who had seen more than a few violent incidents in his short function than he wanted to recall, could see that something had happened near the far wall. Stalking over to take a closer look, Jazz inspected the objects nearby meticulously. Spotting something out of place, the young mech picked up a bolt with his claws, one that had been painted green on the head. "Uh, Ratch'?"
"… that's from 'jack's wrist joint." Being rather familiar with the other mech's parts, the medic could recognize each and every one by sight, because there were identifying marks on each of them for easy reassembly. "He's got parts and tools aplenty here, why the frag did he cannibalize his own frame?"
Jazz handed it over silently, still inspecting the table he had picked the part up from. He crouched low suddenly, tracing something with his claw, then bolted for the lab's exit.
Ratchet blinked, first at where the silver mech had once been then at what he had been looking at, before taking off after him.
The red and white medic lost sight of Jazz rather quickly, but since the silver young mech was running flat out, without the normal twisty shortcuts he was rather well known for, Ratchet just continued in the same direction. A flash of white and green through a door way made the medic stumble to a halt and spin around, catching sight of Wheeljack crawling around with a stump of a left wrist missing the hand in the abandoned rec room. "'JACK!"
The inventor looked up briefly, flashing his best friend a bright pulse of blue light. "Hiya, Ratch'. Sorry about the scare, though can you help me look for my hand? I lost it somewhere around here."
Ratchet's left optic twitched, and he calmly strolled over to the white and green mech. "What the frag do you mean you lost it?"
"I'm helping Prowl out with Jazz." Wheeljack got up to his pedes, correctly guessing the medic would chew him out for using the stump to prop himself up on the floor later. "He said we needed something as bait, so I pulled one of the bolts that held my hand on. But it fell off somewhere around here, when I was pacing the room a little while I waited." He inspected the broken connections and the clamps he had added to his own energon lines. "There were two bolts before, right?"
"There were two bolts until you slagging vaporized them saving Red, 'jack. I only had three in your size in the med bays because you keep melting or blowing yours up, you Pit-Spawn." Ratchet grabbed the severed joint and peered into it. "So what the fragging Pit is this all about, anyways?"
"I… err… talked Jazz into telling Prowl something he didn't want to do, and now Jazz is avoiding him." The inventor rubbed the back of his helm with his right hand, sheepishly looking ever where but at his best friend. "So Prowl got my help in cornering the slippery mech by laying a trap for him."
The medic adjusted a clamp to a better position and glanced up at the slightly younger mech. "So why your slagging left, 'jack? Why is it always your left?"
"My more important parts are all on the right."
Ratchet blinked at him, having never realized that may have been the reason most of Wheeljack's accidents happened to his left side was because of something un 'jack like as a sense of caution.
"And Percy calculated that the risk of something blowing up was minimal if something on my left side was missing." Flashing the staring medic with a green light, the inventor bounced on his pedes. "So it's logic, Ratch'."
Rolling his optics at the more predictable response, the red and white young mech dropped the green and white's stump and started checking around the floor for a misplaced green hand.
They found it after a breem of searching, somehow a glitch had developed when the part hit the floor and some of the finger joints were twitching hard enough to drag the rest of the metal hand father along the room until it hit the far wall with a soft knocking sound, alerting them to where it had gotten to. Ratchet wasn't surprised, the inventor had been rebuilt so many times by now that it was perfectly conceivable that he would develop some type of physical glitch, and Wheeljack just wanted to puzzle out how it had happened.
That was about the same time as preposterously calm Prowl reappeared, dragging a very disgruntled, and bound up tighter than any weapons locker, silver mech by the pede. "Ratchet, my apologies for dismissing your comms. However, may Jazz and I have a moment or two of your time?"
The two mechs sitting on the floor looking at the dismantled green hand between them glanced up at the Enforcer in training and his 'prisoner'. Ratchet raised an optic ridge at Jazz, who just looked torn between being very proud that Prowl had shown a devious side, vastly frustrated that he was tied up too tight to tease the black and white Praxian about it, and a good dose of unease about what was going to happen.
"Uh… sure… 'jack, you are sure nothing explosive was involved with this, right?"
Wheeljack gave him a bluish green pulse of light, still poking at his dismembered hand. "Yep. Just a disassembly this time, Ratch'… oh. Wait; there was that thing I was working on…"
Ratchet twitched, Prowl slapped a hand over his optics, Jazz started laughing as best he could with a clamp over his mouth component, and the building shook as the engineering bay's basement exploded, again.
The inventor looked up sheepishly at the medic as soon as the sound of a building collapsing in on its self died down. "Heh… at least the engineering and construction bots are getting their credit's worth in rebuilding lessons, right?"
Ratchet nailed him with a wrench between the optics.
"Jazz will have to wait a moment, Prowl. Stick him in a closet somewhere."