A/N: Well, here it is. The first chapter of the story I've been working on for like two or three months now. I have 18 chapters already written. (ON A PENDRIVE!XD) So I hope you like. I'm going to ask that you leave a review, I don't usually, but I'm trying out a new writing style, sort of, and I would really like to know if you guys are like "Yay!" or "NAY!"

So, your input would be wonderful!

Bluestreak smiled at the small black and white praxian youngling. The little guy was his responsibility now.

The small youngling was the second Bluestreak had fostered. The first one being Smokescreen. Smokescreen was found on the streets running a gambling scam for his creators, but since Smokescreen grew up Bluestreak had found himself getting lonely, and ended up taking in another adorable youngling.

The youngling was sitting in Bluestreak's living room, playing with building blocks, and data pad games. He was something special, just like every other sparkling or youngling Bluestreak had come across. He was supposedly found with major altercations in his processor by the enforcers (Bluestreak had no idea what kind) and taken away from his original creators, landing him in Bluestreak's care.

Bluestreak watched the youngling place the data pad he was playing with gently on the ground as he stood up. He bent down to pick the data pad and walked over to Bluestreak. "Sign."

Bluestreak laughed as he grabbed the data pad. "Where do I sign?"


Bluestreak hummed as he took an especially long time signing his designation on the data pad. He enjoyed the youngling's stoic look that he could make for hours and hours on end. Bluestreak passed the data pad back to the toddling youngling. "There you go. May I ask what it is for?"

The youngling frowned. His optics flashed for a moment before he fell over. Bluestreak's optics grew ten times their normal size. "PROWL!" He pushed himself off the couch, and pulled the youngling into his arms, and rushed out of his unit, not even bothering to lock it.

He sprinted down the streets weaving through the crowds until burst through one of the buildings' doors. He rushed up to the counter with wild optics. The femme sitting behind the desk quickly stood up, analyzing the situation.

"Please tell me you can fix him! I don't know what happened. He playing and he asked me to sign a data pad, so I did, and, and then he-"

The femme quickly took the youngling out of Bluestreak's grasp, and rushed him to the back, leaving Bluestreak nervously standing in a waiting room drowning in his own worry and guilt.

The building was the closest medical clinic. Bluestreak used to bring Smokescreen there when anything happened, and he went into overly worried guardian mode.

It only took a couple of breems before the same femme walked back out, without the youngling. She motioned for Bluestreak to follow her. Which he did, with his doorwings drooping.

"He is fine. I'm going to let you talk to the medic that took care of him, and he'll explain what happened."

Bluestreak nodded as he followed the femme down the hall, and into an examining room. A white mech sat with his back to doorway. Hearing the entering bots, he spun his stool around, and raised an optic ridge. "By the way Clearwater described you, I half expected a panicking femme."

Bluestreak took no offense to the comment and he glanced around for the youngling.

"He's not in here."

Bluestreak's doorwings immediately drooped back down.

"He's in youngling play area. I wanted to talk to you. My designation is Ratchet. Sit." Ratchet motioned to a Medical berth. He then nodded for the femme to leave.

Bluestreak followed the medic's instructions and sat down on the berth. He was surprised at what the medic did.

Ratchet pulled out a nice wrench and immediately swung it down on Bluestreak's helm. "What the frag is your problem?" Bluestreak instinctively pulled his arms over his helm to help protect his helm from the hits that were sure to come, which they did. In sets of three. "Installing that into a youngling's processor!" Ratchet continued beating Bluestreak. "You're lucky his processor can even handle that kind of equipment! WHAT THE FRAG WERE YOU THINKING?"

Bluestreak brought his arms down when the hits seemed to stop. Ratchet was glaring down at him with intense blue optics. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I just became his guardian! He was in enforcer's custody until recently! PLEASE DON'T HIT ME ANYMORE!" Bluestreak rubbed the dents on his arms as realization struck Ratchet.

"You have no idea what I was talking about, do you?"

"I knew he had additions to his processor, but that's all I know." Bluestreak whispered.

Ratchet sighed. "I'm sorry for repeatedly hitting you with a wrench, now come here so I can fix you."

Bluestreak slowly scooted towards Ratchet. Ratchet grabbed one of his arms, and started gently pressing around the newly acquired dents. "The youngling has an advanced tactical computer installed in his processor."

"A what?"

"It's a battle computer. It's connected with his processor. Usually a battle computer would only be circuited into a mech's logic core, not to mention it would also be a fully grown mech, but your youngling's processor is fully integrated with a battle computer. Earlier he glitched. You did something that wasn't logical to him, and caused his computer to fritz out, and take the rest of him with it."

Bluestreak winced as Ratchet began on his helm. "Will he grow out of it?"

"As he grows he should be able to deal with more illogical things, but he'll always have the glitch. This time it wasn't bad. He simply had to be manually rebooted, but I'd prefer if you brought him in after he crashes like that. I want to keep a close optic on him."

Bluestreak nodded. "He'll be okay, right?"

Ratchet nodded as he popped Bluestreak's last dent out. "He'll live. I'll need you to fill out a form on him though. I need all his information. It'll save me time next time he comes in."

Bluestreak nodded as Ratchet passed him a data pad. "He likes data pads." Bluestreak smiled as he gripped the stylus, and began writing. Bluestreak stopped writing and brought the stylus up to his lip components. "I just noticed I don't know the glyphs for his name."

Ratchet stared at the mech in front of him. "How long has he been in your care?"

"A couple of orns. His designation is Prowl, but there's like a bazillion ways to write that."

Ratchet nodded. "I'll bring him in. Maybe he knows how to write his own name." Ratchet left the room leaving Bluestreak by himself. Bluestreak skipped that specific line, and skipped down to the next question.

Prowl sat in the play area. There were only a couple of other younglings sitting around; playing with toys, but Prowl had no interest in the toys, or the younglings. He wanted a data pad. Unfortunately, there were none in this specific area. He walked over to the clear wall of the playpen, and spotted a femme holding five or six data pads. It was more than enough to share.

Prowl ran into a problem though. He didn't know how to call her over. All he had to do was run up to the big gray mech he was living with to get his attention, but the clear wall was in his way. He decided on the only way he knew how to call somebody of her frame type. "Femme!"

The femme jumped and turned to the pen. Her optics landed on Prowl, and she set the data pads on the counter. "It's rude to only yell femme like that. You should have called excuse me instead."

Prowl let the words sink in, and he nodded. He then looked over to the counter, and pointed. "Data pad."

The femme frowned. "You can't have those. Those are used to store patient's information, youngling."

"Data pad." Prowl repeated.

The femme sighed. "I don't have any extras. You'll have to play with some of the other toys."

Prowl frowned. He didn't want the other toys. He simply wanted a data pad. The femme had so many, she could share. "Data pad."

The femme frowned. "I can't give you one. I'm sorry."

Prowl shuttered his optics. Where was the big gray mech? He would give him a data pad! "Gray!"

"What?" The femme continued frowning.

"Want Gray!"

The femme sighed. "I don-"

"Are you arguing with a youngling?"

The femme jumped. "Ratchet! I wasn-"

"I was only picking." The big red and white mech lifted Prowl up, and supported him with his hip. "Hello, Prowl"

"Data pad." Prowl stared at the new mech.

"I have extras in my office. I'll give you one, if you can answer me honestly."

Prowl nodded. "Honest."

"Do you know how to write your name?"

Prowl thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes."

"Can you show me in a klick?"

Prowl nodded again. "Data pad?"

The big mech chuckled. "I'll give you one after you show me, alright?"

Prowl nodded. He gripped the big red mech's shoulder. "Gray?"

"I'll assume you are talking about your caretaker." Prowl nodded. The mech smiled. "I am taking you to him now. You worried him."


The mech smiled. "Nothing to apologize over. It wasn't your fault." The mech stopped in front of a door, and typed in a code. The door slid open revealing the gray mech Prowl was looking for.


Bluestreak glanced up from the data pad, and smiled at Prowl. "Prowl!" He stood up quickly, and plucked Prowl right out of Ratchet's servos. "How are you? Do you feel okay? Does your helm hurt? Does anything hurt?"

Prowl stared at Bluestreak for a moment. "Okay."

Bluestreak smiled. "You're only okay?"

Prowl giggled. "Great."

Bluestreak chuckled.

Ratchet walked up to the two, and sat down a blank data pad. "Prowl, can you show me how to write your designation?"

Bluestreak set Prowl down on the examination berth and watched as Prowl nodded, picked up the stylus, and plopped down right on his aft in front of the data pad. Prowl scooted closer to the data pad, and picked it up. He placed the stylus on the data pad and began writing glyphs.

As soon as Prowl was done, he sat the data pad back down and nodded at Ratchet. "There."

Ratchet smiled. "Thank you, Prowl."

"Welcome." Prowl stood up, and reached for Bluestreak to pick him up.

Bluestreak reached down and pulled the youngling into a hug. "You're so adorable!"

"Data pad."

Ratchet chuckled as he opened his desk, and pulled out a fresh data pad. "Here. Just like I promised."

Prowl smiled as he accepted the data pad in his grip. "Thanks."

Ratchet nodded, picking up the data pad Bluestreak was filling out. "I'll go ahead, and write his name on here, since that's all that's left. I'm also going to set an appointment for next decaorn. It's just a checkup, but I want to keep close tabs on him, alright?"

Bluestreak nodded. "Alright. Thank you, Ratchet."

Ratchet smiled. "Don't worry about it. Be good, Prowl."

"Will." Prowl nodded from Bluestreak's grasp.

Ratchet sent one last smile to the two as they walked out of the room, and up to the front counter. A femme smiled at Bluestreak. "The total for today's visit is one hundred fifty credits."

Bluestreak nodded as he pulled out his card. "Here you go."

The femme nodded as she scanned the card. "Would you like to know your remaining balance on your card."

"Um. Yeah, why not?"

"five hundred thirty two."

"That would be a good reason." Bluestreak sighed. "Thanks."

The femme chuckled as she passed his card back. "Have a good day!"

Bluestreak nodded as he walked out of the building. "Let's go home, Prowl."

"Home." Prowl agreed.

A/N: Don't forget to tell me how you like the new writing style. I'm trying to be more descriptive. Tell me how you like the story too! If you want. I'm not gonna make you. I doubt I could anyways XD