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(Crack. I have no excuse for this except that I wanted to write some funny stuff and it's been a while since I wrote random crack. Hope you find it entertaining! Enjoy!)

Prowl was very close to just throwing down his beloved Acid Pellet Rifle and just scream. It was so tempting just to throw another 'Major Wobbler' which Jazz, in his apparent 'infinite wisdom', had described the tactician's last fit of fury. It was so Primus damningly tempting to leap from his hiding place screeching, swearing and snarling at the opposite faction that was making a mess of his carefully laid out plans.

The Autobots weren't helping matters of course, Optimus had lunged straight for Megatron, the Twins had stormed off and jumped on the jets, plus, to top things off Blaster appeared to be having music battle with Soundwave with cheesy love ballads.

He sniffed disdainfully as Ironhide jogged past him, dodging several blaster shots while singing audio crushingly out of tune to 'Wind Beneath my Wings' by the human femme Bette Midler as Blaster dominated the Music Battle in the corner of the Air Field they were currently having a scuffle on.

"Primus, you must hate me." He growled from where he was sitting sheltering from a volley of blaster plasma behind a half destroyed plane. "Or else you would just make them follow my plans to the letter. But no, tactical advice be damned, 'we'll just be gung-ho about it and storm the field like we usually do' Optimus said." The Praxian snarled to himself, his doorwings slowly rising into a sharp 'v', lowering his voice to mimic his Prime in a childish fashion.

"Hiya Prowler!" Jazz shouted, skidding along the ground and right into the Praxian's side with a loud clang of metal, destroying any sense of personal space. "Well isn't this a cosy space we've gotten ourselves into!"

"Jazz, find your own hiding spot." The black and white mech sniffed at his counterpart, bringing up his spare servo that wasn't currently massaging the trigger of rifle, to rub soothingly at the bridge of his olfactory sensor. "Or better yet, go to where you are supposed to be in relation to my carefully set out Battle Plan."

"But…" Jazz whimpered, dragging a data-pad out of his sub-space to hold it out in front of the Praxian, pointing at the coloured blob Prowl had marked his Battle Position with. "You put me on the front line!"

His anger meter just shot up several levels.

"Turn the pad ninety degrees left Jazz." The Praxian hissed, his black and white armour beginning to vibrate softly, his systems heating like an old kettle being brought to boil as his rage climbed.

"Oh!" the esteemed saboteur suddenly exclaimed, before he peered over the edge of their hiding place and shouted out to the entire battlefield. "Hey Mirage! I read Prowler's Battle Plan wrong! We're supposed to be on the other end of the Air Field! That's where Megatron's 'World-go-Boom-Bomb' is!"

"That's it!" the Tactician snarled, shoving his mate out from behind his hiding spot, the saboteur tumbling in a sprawled heap from the deceptively powerful push, "Out, out, out!"

"Mommy! Daddy is being mean to me again!" Jazz wailed at Optimus as the Special Operations Chief was sent sprinting across the battlefield, a suspicious volley of green acid pellets whizzing over their helms.

"You probably deserved it Jazz!" Optimus grunted, making a time out sign towards Megatron as he grabbed a passing Jazz by the scruff bar and tossed him in the general direction of where he was supposed to be in relation to Prowl's now ruined plans. "And stop calling me 'Mommy'! You've been watching too much Anime again!"

"Really Prime?" Megatron asked, raising an optic ridge as the black and white Saboteur landed on top of a downed Starscream.

"If it gets this over faster, I really have no problem with chucking my troops in the right direction." The large truck-former, shrugged as his Praxian framed Tactician stalked across the battlefield to them, expertly dodging stray shots before rounding on the Decepticon War Lord with such a venomous gaze, Megatron actually cringed.

"You." Prowl said, low and dangerous stepping forward and jabbing the gun metal grey tyrant right in the chest plates, even though he had to reach up slightly to do it. "Get your soldiers in line frag it! Do you know how long I slaved over those plans? The least you purple branded femmes can do is try and follow my predications!"

"The whole point of War is that you outsmart the opponent, you moronic calculator!" Megatron snarled back, getting over his shock that an Autobot of all mecha was poking him quite roughly in the chest plates. That was before something collided with his cheek-plating, making him stumble back and nearly overbalance as the doorwinged mech slapped him.

Silence overcame the battlefield until Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, both sitting atop a downed Skywarp and Thundercracker respectively, let out whistles and applause of approval as Bluestreak gawked at his parent, his servo still in the grasp of Ravage's jaws, the panther like cassette clearly forgotten in the grey gunner's astonishment over the other Praxian's actions , "Sire… did you just bitch-slap Megatron?"

"My hero." Jazz swooned from where he had landed on Starscream after Optimus had tossed him, the traitorous jet laughing into the ground to muffle his hilarity over Megatron's expression that was fluxing between unholy wrath and confusion towards the black and white Praxian that now had his servos on his hips growling at the lot of them.

"Megatron!" Prowl rumbled, his tone dark, and optics flashing, "Get your troops in line and for frags sake get them shooting lessons! I barely see a scratch on Sideswipe! I want him out of action for at least a week! Do you know what a pest he is when he's on a pranking spree?"

"Hey!" The red Twin cried in dismay as Sunstreaker took the opportunity to laugh in his brother's faceplate.

"Yes, sir." Megatron squeaked, feeling like a scolded sparkling as Optimus dared to let out a chirr of amusement, only for his Second in Command to turn on the Prime himself.

"And you. How many times do I have to say it?" Prowl snapped, only shaking a fist at the cringing Matrix Barer instead of striking him. "Follow my plans and I won't have to do this!"


Ratchet and Wheeljack were currently dragging Ironhide away from a scrap with Motormaster to listen in on the dressing down both of the leaders were getting. "Is he even allowed to do that?" Ironhide asked as Wheeljack snickered at the way all of the troops of both factions were now gathered in a loose circle around the three mechs, though they were all subconsciously out of punching, slapping or shooting range.

"Let me check my manual." Ratchet grumbled, subspacing a large jangling set of data-pads all bound together like a book. "If I'm right, something about Tactical Officer's flying off the handle and picking a fight is in data-pad three, page four thousand and twenty two, paragraph four." The medic explained as he searched.

"You got to admit though." Ironhide chuckled as Ratchet was forced to use 'The Guide to War' manual. "Prowl sure knows how to put them in their place."

"Where have you been these last few million years?" Wheeljack chirred in amusement tilting his helm in puzzlement, "Didn't you hear Jazz? Optimus is our mother figure; why else would he be so forgiving? And Prowl is our Father figure, he's a hard aft that dishes out the punishment but has a nice loving side to him too."

A wrench collided solidly with the side of the Inventors helm.

"Stop stereotyping and hold this. I've figured out how to solve this problem." Ratchet growled, chucking his 'War manual' at the Engineer as he took aim with his wrench.

Back with Prowl, Optimus and Megatron…

Prowl dropped like a stone when Ratchet's wrench collided with the back of his helm. Which was a good thing, because Megatron was now rocking back and forth on his aft like a traumatised sparkling and it was freaking everybody out.

"Honestly." The Chief Medical Officer snapped icily as he shoved both Decepticons and Autobots out of the way to get to the Praxian now solidly in stasis lock, grabbing the SIC by the pede and beginning to drag the mech back towards the ARK. "You'd think after millions of years stuck with our Tactical Officer, you'd learn to just follow the plan fifty percent of the time!"

"Soundwave." Megatron said, rising to his pedes and turning to the telepath, "Erase all memories of this when we return to base."

"Soundwave: Approves" the blue mech nodded, silently sending Blaster a private message as the two armies departed.

Nobody was really sure why Blaster burst out laughing as he hitched a ride back to the ARK in Track's, however, Jazz later found out what Soundwave had sent his fellow music lover, as the red tape deck waited with Jazz outside the Medical Bay for Prowl to skulk out, thoroughly chastised by an amused Ratchet about not letting out his anger on the Training Drones.

Incident: Recorded

Tape Whereabouts : Black Market

Sale Status: Instant No.1

Personal Status: LOL