My first ever completed fanfic
*runs in* *posts* *runs back out* *peers from behind the internet to see the reactions*
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It was an aggravated Red Alert who opened the door to the security center and found the photovoltaic pussycat that had been roaming about the base sprawled in his chair. Green optics activated at his entrance, but dimmed back down in infuriating dismissal.
“Get.” He knew that it understood simple commands, it was the pet of that fragging botanist after all.
“I said, get,” The security director strode forward, flinging his arms. The annoyance didn't even reset its' optics.
“Beat it cat!” Fed up, he moved to physically remove the beast but was thwarted when, anticipating his intentions, it jumped down all its' own.
The feeling of triumph died a quick death, as instead of fleeing like it should, the photocat merely hopped back up onto the next seat over. Denta squealed, protesting their harsh treatment as Red Alert ground his jaw.
“Fine,” He growled. “Stay there, but don't bother me, I don't have the time to chase your sorry tail out of here.” Booting the system up out of autonomous mode took a couple of astroseconds longer than it should have. Bending down out of his seat to look underneath the console, Red Alert saw that connective wires leading from the mainframe to the access computer were slightly frayed. Sending a repair notice ping to Wheeljack, Red Alert got back up and started going through the logs. It wasn't severe enough to hamper his current work.
“Some photovoltaic cat you are,” He glanced over, a tiny part at the back of his mind marveled at how it could curl up to fit on a surface that should be too small, and still look so fragging comfortable. “Those are glitchmice gnaw marks.” Red Alert returned his attention to the screens.
He huffed. “Look at this, look at this. I'm slagged off enough that I'm talking to the walking security hazard that's the reason I'm slagged off in the first place!” Fingers near flew over the keyboard, checking not only the current live feed from the cameras, but the recordings from the previous night.
“I told Prime that you can't have free reign, that the Decepticons could use you for sabotage, but noooo,” Keys were hit a little harder than necessary, the computer now cycling through its' defensive programs. Camera footage delegated to a side monitor. Code was glanced over, any degradation accessed and corrected. Most were small errors, and only required slight modification.
“You're part of that scientist's study and need to go outside for the sun,” He mocked. “Though how much use you still are after however many vorns has yet to be explained to me.” Wheeljack's return confirmation ping that said the engineer would be over before his shift was finished was wonderfully quick.
“And that's another thing, how am I expected to work when animals are running rampant at a military base.” Despite the frustration rising steadily throughout his rant, his hands were steady and continued through the analyzation of the Arks' defense systems at a phenomenal rate.
“The sooner we get some proper maintenance mechs, the better. If I can't get anyone here to do it, we're all going to end up Decepticon fodder,” He ended with a mutter. He looked back over at the current bane of his existence, hoping for maybe some bit of sympathy to his plight.
Red Alert scowled and returned to his work in silence when it just flashed its' tail at him.
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I'm so incredibly nervous about posting this you have no idea, in part because the scientist mentioned is an OC. So I hope its' good, or at least doesn't suck.
************
It was an aggravated Red Alert who opened the door to the security center and found the photovoltaic pussycat that had been roaming about the base sprawled in his chair. Green optics activated at his entrance, but dimmed back down in infuriating dismissal.
“Get.” He knew that it understood simple commands, it was the pet of that fragging botanist after all.
“I said, get,” The security director strode forward, flinging his arms. The annoyance didn't even reset its' optics.
“Beat it cat!” Fed up, he moved to physically remove the beast but was thwarted when, anticipating his intentions, it jumped down all its' own.
The feeling of triumph died a quick death, as instead of fleeing like it should, the photocat merely hopped back up onto the next seat over. Denta squealed, protesting their harsh treatment as Red Alert ground his jaw.
“Fine,” He growled. “Stay there, but don't bother me, I don't have the time to chase your sorry tail out of here.” Booting the system up out of autonomous mode took a couple of astroseconds longer than it should have. Bending down out of his seat to look underneath the console, Red Alert saw that connective wires leading from the mainframe to the access computer were slightly frayed. Sending a repair notice ping to Wheeljack, Red Alert got back up and started going through the logs. It wasn't severe enough to hamper his current work.
“Some photovoltaic cat you are,” He glanced over, a tiny part at the back of his mind marveled at how it could curl up to fit on a surface that should be too small, and still look so fragging comfortable. “Those are glitchmice gnaw marks.” Red Alert returned his attention to the screens.
He huffed. “Look at this, look at this. I'm slagged off enough that I'm talking to the walking security hazard that's the reason I'm slagged off in the first place!” Fingers near flew over the keyboard, checking not only the current live feed from the cameras, but the recordings from the previous night.
“I told Prime that you can't have free reign, that the Decepticons could use you for sabotage, but noooo,” Keys were hit a little harder than necessary, the computer now cycling through its' defensive programs. Camera footage delegated to a side monitor. Code was glanced over, any degradation accessed and corrected. Most were small errors, and only required slight modification.
“You're part of that scientist's study and need to go outside for the sun,” He mocked. “Though how much use you still are after however many vorns has yet to be explained to me.” Wheeljack's return confirmation ping that said the engineer would be over before his shift was finished was wonderfully quick.
“And that's another thing, how am I expected to work when animals are running rampant at a military base.” Despite the frustration rising steadily throughout his rant, his hands were steady and continued through the analyzation of the Arks' defense systems at a phenomenal rate.
“The sooner we get some proper maintenance mechs, the better. If I can't get anyone here to do it, we're all going to end up Decepticon fodder,” He ended with a mutter. He looked back over at the current bane of his existence, hoping for maybe some bit of sympathy to his plight.
Red Alert scowled and returned to his work in silence when it just flashed its' tail at him.
************
I'm so incredibly nervous about posting this you have no idea, in part because the scientist mentioned is an OC. So I hope its' good, or at least doesn't suck.