As the elevator doors slid open, emitting a soft swoosh, they revealed a certain yellow mech glaring incredulously at Tracks. The twin made a clicking noise and plaintively said, "No." Tracks rolled his eyes and brushed a speck of dust from his shoulder; Sunstreaker and his gang had been occupying the elevator all week, pranking anybody who was unfortunate enough to cross their path. Tracks decided to ignore all of them.

A floor up, and Sludge trudged in with a groan. Oil was streaked across his back and left iridescent brown footprints wherever he stepped.

"Absolutely not! No!" Sunstreaker said, stomping his foot. Sludge growled viciously and stared daggers at Sunstreaker, who nonchalantly took two steps away from the Dinobot. Tracks made no attempt to stifle his smug chuckle.

At ground level, Bumblebee strolled in with a smile; his pleasant greeting was cut off by Sunstreaker shouting, "No! Definitely not, never!" The miniature Autobot, taken aback, mumbled "Hello" to Sunstreaker and hung his head sullenly. After a couple moments, he glumly pressed the button for the third floor, where he disembarked; the elevator descended one floor.

Red Alert stepped briskly into the elevator, not bothering to speak to anybody as he rapidly typed information into a data pad with one hand while studying one held in the other, all as a stack of ten or so pinched between his elbows, wobbled precariously. Sunstreaker smirked a little before shrieking, "No!" at the top of his voice. Sludge stomped indignantly; Red Alert screeched, shuffled his feet in a fit of anxiety, and dropped all of the data pads. Sunstreaker dodged Tracks, who yelled at him to watch the finish, and tip-toed over the fallen data pads. He transformed and sped away.

In the security office, everybody was still watching Red Alert try (and fail) to pick up his data pads and return to his work. Sludge was unaware of Tracks being chided by Red Alert for having the data pads in the wrong order. Eventually, Tracks left in the direction of the stairwell.

"Red Alert was really the best target for this," Darkflight said, laughing at the fretful mech's misfortune.

Jazz looked on sympathetically, while Wheeljack watched some low-budget horror movie set in a hotel. Sideswipe, in a chair in front of offline monitors, read the next prank on their list and turned to the rest of the group.

"Guys," he said tentatively, "what's a bellboy?"


"It's been eighty-four years..." I got really inspired for a moment? I don't know if I'll write another one of these; I want to, definitely, but no promises.