Baby Boom Omake 4
Omake bunny is a random, random bunny.
A loud, aggravated sound drew the attention of the rest of the bots in the rec room, the mech who’d made the sigh slumping wearily across the first couch he spotted.
“Problem, Inferno?”
The fire truck uncovered his optics long enough to see that Jazz was the one asking the question, and took note that the Ops bot was still a femme.
“Just the usual. Red’s locked himself away in his security room again. I haven’t been able to get him away from the monitors for days.”
“And I suppose Perceptor’s attempts at finding a solution to our ‘problem’ haven’t helped.”
“Having femmes and big cats running around the Ark was better than having Thundercracker and Skyfire turning translucent and ending up less visible on camera. And Perceptor’s not in any condition to fix this latest issue.”
“I suppose thinking you’ve killed two bots can be rather traumatising. Particularly if they seem to be haunting you.”
“Primus. And if that weren’t enough, having Skywarp and Skydive on a pranking spree with Sideswipe trying to rein them in is gonna make him glitch something fierce, I just know it. And I’ve got patrol in a few minutes, which means I won’t be here to help him with it.”
“Welp. Guess that means we need an intervention.”
“Huh?”
“Won’t be a moment. Actually, since it’s Red Alert and all, I suppose I will. Better get Prowl in on this.”
“Jazz, what-”
But the Porsche was already gone.
= = =
Worried (and curious), Inferno knocked on Red Alert’s door the moment he got back to the Ark. When Jazz answered, the fire truck stalled. When Prowl appeared behind the Ops bot, Inferno’s optics widened. When the Datsun sighed and raised an optic ridge, folding black and white arms across her front (incidentally drawing Inferno’s attention to said front), the red mech’s processors needed a quick reboot.
“Was there something you needed, Inferno?”
“Just… checking up on Red. Is he alright?”
Jazz waved carelessly at him. “Yeah, we got him to get some recharge. Had to practically tie him down to do so, but we did it.”
“In any case, we’ve achieved our objective and were just about to leave. So if you’ll excuse us…”
He shuffled aside to let Prowl and Jazz leave the room, then peeked through the doorway to spot the security director deep in recharge on his berth. Distantly, he heard the Ops bot talking to the tactican.
“Well, that was fun. You’ve been holding out on me, Prowl.”
“I must admit, having an extra pair of hands was a big help.”
“Red’s really something when he gets worked up. Was a surprise to find him so… passionate about this kinda thing. Wouldn’t normally have pegged him as the sort to, y’know.”
A loud crash had the pair of black and whites starting in surprise. Staring back at the offline Inferno, Jazz looked at Prowl. “Ratchet?”
“Ratchet.” The Datsun agreed, before responding to the Porsche’s earlier comment. “Red Alert always did need a great deal of convincing before indulging in his pleasures.”
The Porsche grinned, arching back in a quick stretch before taking hold of Inferno’s foot to drag him to the med bay. “But once he’s properly convinced…. Hot damn. I’m definitely glad he’s agreed to making this a regular thing.”
More crashes sounded and both officers peered around the corner to find a pile up of dazed mechs on the ground. Shaking his head, the Ops bot sighed, sending a quick message to the CMO. While waiting for the medic to arrive, the Porsche queried.
“So, vid games again next week?”
“Only if you’re playing on my side.”
“Deal.” Jazz shook Prowl’s hand, then grinned. “It’s the only way either of us are gonna stand any chance against Red anyway.”
A loud, aggravated sound drew the attention of the rest of the bots in the rec room, the mech who’d made the sigh slumping wearily across the first couch he spotted.
“Problem, Inferno?”
The fire truck uncovered his optics long enough to see that Jazz was the one asking the question, and took note that the Ops bot was still a femme.
“Just the usual. Red’s locked himself away in his security room again. I haven’t been able to get him away from the monitors for days.”
“And I suppose Perceptor’s attempts at finding a solution to our ‘problem’ haven’t helped.”
“Having femmes and big cats running around the Ark was better than having Thundercracker and Skyfire turning translucent and ending up less visible on camera. And Perceptor’s not in any condition to fix this latest issue.”
“I suppose thinking you’ve killed two bots can be rather traumatising. Particularly if they seem to be haunting you.”
“Primus. And if that weren’t enough, having Skywarp and Skydive on a pranking spree with Sideswipe trying to rein them in is gonna make him glitch something fierce, I just know it. And I’ve got patrol in a few minutes, which means I won’t be here to help him with it.”
“Welp. Guess that means we need an intervention.”
“Huh?”
“Won’t be a moment. Actually, since it’s Red Alert and all, I suppose I will. Better get Prowl in on this.”
“Jazz, what-”
But the Porsche was already gone.
= = =
Worried (and curious), Inferno knocked on Red Alert’s door the moment he got back to the Ark. When Jazz answered, the fire truck stalled. When Prowl appeared behind the Ops bot, Inferno’s optics widened. When the Datsun sighed and raised an optic ridge, folding black and white arms across her front (incidentally drawing Inferno’s attention to said front), the red mech’s processors needed a quick reboot.
“Was there something you needed, Inferno?”
“Just… checking up on Red. Is he alright?”
Jazz waved carelessly at him. “Yeah, we got him to get some recharge. Had to practically tie him down to do so, but we did it.”
“In any case, we’ve achieved our objective and were just about to leave. So if you’ll excuse us…”
He shuffled aside to let Prowl and Jazz leave the room, then peeked through the doorway to spot the security director deep in recharge on his berth. Distantly, he heard the Ops bot talking to the tactican.
“Well, that was fun. You’ve been holding out on me, Prowl.”
“I must admit, having an extra pair of hands was a big help.”
“Red’s really something when he gets worked up. Was a surprise to find him so… passionate about this kinda thing. Wouldn’t normally have pegged him as the sort to, y’know.”
A loud crash had the pair of black and whites starting in surprise. Staring back at the offline Inferno, Jazz looked at Prowl. “Ratchet?”
“Ratchet.” The Datsun agreed, before responding to the Porsche’s earlier comment. “Red Alert always did need a great deal of convincing before indulging in his pleasures.”
The Porsche grinned, arching back in a quick stretch before taking hold of Inferno’s foot to drag him to the med bay. “But once he’s properly convinced…. Hot damn. I’m definitely glad he’s agreed to making this a regular thing.”
More crashes sounded and both officers peered around the corner to find a pile up of dazed mechs on the ground. Shaking his head, the Ops bot sighed, sending a quick message to the CMO. While waiting for the medic to arrive, the Porsche queried.
“So, vid games again next week?”
“Only if you’re playing on my side.”
“Deal.” Jazz shook Prowl’s hand, then grinned. “It’s the only way either of us are gonna stand any chance against Red anyway.”