TF: Strange Devices
Rating: Nice and safe, PG
Series: G1
Summary: Beware of what you say and who can overhear… you never know how you might be helped.
Pairings: Wheeljack and Ratchet if you squint really really hard…
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were, but I can dream. As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case they belong to Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Note: Originally intended for the
transficsation April challenge (#3 - cross faction pranking)… but I’m a little late for that and I kinda couldn’t think of pranks… so I asked for help and this is the result of a plot bunny that
ladystarscream gave me and I have fed and mutated, hopefully to something she still might recognise! Thank you for the suggestion!
Probably have some influences from somewhere about the ongoing feud Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker have... as well as the 'Dandelion of Death' (Starhorse!). I apologise, I read, loved and inadvertantly used... if it's yours, lemme know so I can give credit where credits due!
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
“OUT OUT OUT!!”
Heads peered around doorways cautiously as the shout reverberated around the now empty corridors. Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper could be seen hastily making their way away from the repair bay, an irate Ratchet standing in the door manically waving an arc welder.
“If I see either of you back here and not because of the Decepticons, you’ll be begging Primus you weren’t sparked!” Heads quickly disappeared back into doorways as Ratchet stared down the corridor both ways before retreating back in to his repair bay muttering under his vocaliser.
Only Wheeljack would dare enter the repair bay after Ratchet’s outburst.
“Is it safe?” He joked as he stepped through the door. Ratchet just looked up from his work and stared at the engineer.
“You’re not a yellow Lamborghini or a red Porsche, so I’d say you were safe.” He muttered.
“Cliffjumper been winding Sunstreaker up again?” Wheeljack smirked, leaning against the desk where Ratchet was sitting.
“If I have those two in this bay again, I swear on Primus himself, I don’t know what I’ll do to them. It’s bad enough having to listen to Sunstreaker whine about his paintjob without having Cliffjumper snarking at him because of it.”
“Why not reset his vocaliser?”
“Because that wouldn’t solve the problem ‘Jack. As much fun as it might be, it still wouldn’t stop Sunstreaker pounding the slag out of Cliffjumper.”
“It would stop Cliffjumper from winding him up.”
“Doubt it.” Ratchet replied morosely. “That little fragger could probably wind Sunstreaker up without speaking…”
“I guess…” Wheeljack answered slowly, processors trying to figure out a way to help his friend.
“If only I could find a way of stopping the damage; that would be enough I think… But that ain’t going to happen. I’m off for some recharge.” Ratchet stood and left the repair bay, not realising that Wheeljack hadn’t heard him.
The Device was sitting on his desk the next morning. It greeted him when he walked in to the repair bay.
“What the slag?” He muttered. He stared at it for long moments before realising what it must be. A quick call to Wheeljack confirmed his suspicions and his curiosity was piqued. This was his chance to get his revenge. And some much needed peace and quiet.
The last few days had been fairly quiet, the previous battle having taken a toll on both sides and the weather surprisingly bad for the time of the year. The advantage, of course, was that Megatron didn’t actually leave the Nemesis for any energon raids. Over time, Ratchet had gotten accustomed to the Autobots routines when at rest. Red Alert would have to be dragged out of his office for energon and recharge, having holed himself up in there going over old security feeds and trying to improve on the Ark’s security systems. At least he didn’t ask Wheeljack for help anymore, not after that camera had blown up in their faceplates…
Wheeljack would have also hidden himself away in his laboratory. The Dinobots would be off making lots of noise somewhere, usually with Red Alert keeping a close optic on them through the security cameras. Jazz would be creating his own noise, much closer to the Ark. Prowl would be seconded away with Prime discussing tactics, much to their leader’s dismay on a quiet day. And Sunstreaker… Sunstreaker and Sideswipe would be out racing along the mountain roads, enjoying themselves thoroughly and not worrying what damage they might cause themselves that Ratchet might have to repair. But at least the golden warrior wasn’t damaging Cliffjumper at the moment. All the Minibots were gathered in the rec. room, laughing and joking as they sat together. At least by the time Sunstreaker returned to the Ark, he would be near exhausted and ready for a sound recharge. That was when Ratchet planned to begin his revenge. He had spent the day examining the machine and knew exactly what he wanted it to do. All he had to wait for was the right time, which was close. And of course hope that the weather stayed rotten and that the Decepticons wouldn’t recover themselves any quicker than they normally would to launch another attack.
The Ark seemed deserted in the early hours of the morning as Ratchet quietly made his way down the corridor, carefully avoiding Red Alert’s cameras. He stopped outside the door to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s quarters, quietly cursing the fact that they shared. It would make it doubly difficult to do what he intended. He shifted the Device in his hands to override the door mechanism. There were some advantages to being Chief Medical Officer.
Quietly he moved dials and flicked switches on the Device and pointed it at Sunstreaker’s gun, freshly polished and lying on the table where he had left it before retiring for the night. The device emitted a blue pulse that lasted long enough to leave an imprint on Ratchet’s optic sensors but not long enough to startle the Lamborghini warriors out of recharge. Job done, Ratchet made his way out as quietly as he had made his way in, finally letting out a peal of laughter when he reached the safety of his repair bay.
It had been meticulously planned, an operation worthy of Perceptor’s diligence; neither Sunstreaker nor Cliffjumper were due on patrol for a few days. Which hopefully meant combined with the bad weather that they wouldn’t get caught up in a Decepticon attack. That could spell bad news for the Autobots and even worse news for Ratchet once Sunstreaker found out who had tampered with his gun. Plenty of time for the Minibot to wind the warrior up and for the two of them not to end up in Ratchet’s repair bay.
And it didn’t take long for the cries of rage to reach Ratchet’s audios.
It was Cliffjumper that was more vocal to begin with. Then the roar of Sunstreaker’s rage came through when he realised what was going on. Of course the fact that Cliffjumper had managed to compare him to a great big yellow daffodil whilst being shoved up against a wall and covered in big yellow daffodils certainly didn’t help the warrior’s temperament.
Briefly wondering if there was actually anywhere to hide on the Ark that the Twins didn’t know about, Ratchet braced himself as the doors to the repair bay slid open. He was quite impressed with the look of surprise he managed to muster as Cliffjumper fairly flounced into the bay, showering petals everywhere.
“What the slag happened to you?” Had Ratchet been any other mech, he would have shied away at the glare Cliffjumper gave him.
“Sunstreaker. Who the slag else?” Ratchet heaved a long-suffering sigh and pointed to a repair berth. He had been hoping it might teach them a lesson, but it just seemed that Cliffjumper was more annoyed than normal. Of course, that could have been because he’d actually walked in to the repair bay rather than being carried in, Ratchet wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, he was yet again cleaning up the mess Sunstreaker had made. Even though this time it was indirectly.
The Device itself was relegated to the depths of a rarely used cupboard in the repair bay and over time even Sunstreaker managed to forget about the incident. He only found out the reason why his favorite gun had suddenly happened to start shooting big yellow flowers (he refused to use the word ‘daffodil’) when Wheeljack got slightly overcharged after a particularly hard battle against the Decepticons. Ratchet only knew Sunstreaker knew when he was jolted out of recharge and hoisted in the air by the warrior who had a particularly nasty smile on his face plate. At least the ever-paranoid Red Alert was keeping an optic out and had rushed to Ratchet’s aid. And Ratchet wasn’t the only mech who thanked Primus that the Decepticons never found out. Although, there were several who mused that Sunstreaker could single-handedly win the war if the Decepticons were informed.
But no one had counted on Bluestreak’s memory.
Months later, Ratchet found himself slouched in a chair in his repair bay, moaning to Wheeljack about the latest lot of casualties he’d just finished repairing. It had been a particularly hard battle with the Decepticons and every mech had been injured in some way, no matter how small, they had all filed through his doors. Now, finally he had a chance to relax and recharge, the odd few staying overnight so he could keep an optic on them.
“I just wish there was some way to stop Megatron’s cannon inflicting so much damage. You know I had to virtually rewire Mirage’s mobility circuits? That fragging cannon had fused them completely beyond repair. Didn’t make a slagging bit of difference him being invisible, it doesn’t stop the damage!”
“I know, but there’s not exactly anything we can do about it.”
“I guess.” Ratchet sat up slowly. “I really need some recharge.” Bluestreak quickly shuttered his optics as Ratchet stood to make one last check on his patients before ushering Wheeljack out and retiring.
“Bluestreak! What in Primus’ name are you doing?”
“Helping you Ratchet, you’ve done so much for all of us, I thought it was the least I could do, I mean after all…” Bluestreak trailed off as Ratchet held up a hand in warning.
“I don’t want to hear it. Just keep out of my way and clear up that mess!” Ratchet strode into his office, ignoring Bluestreak’s slightly confused look and slammed the door.
“Gotcha.” He muttered as his optics found what he had been looking for. Quickly he put everything back in the cupboard before leaving the repair bay, a smile on his face plate. Now all he had to do was wait and he could stop Ratchet feeling so bad after a battle with the Decepticons.
Silence reigned on the battlefield as Bluestreak stood up straight and pointed a small box at Megatron.
“Hah!” He cried, pressing a button. The blue pulse flashed towards Megatron, who laughed maniacally as it dissipated around him.
“Childish Autobot! That didn’t even tickle! Now it’s my turn.” Time seemed to slow down as Megatron raised his cannon to fire at Bluestreak.
“BLUESTREAK!” Someone cried his name as Megatron fired, an orange flash streaking through the sky between them.
He landed on his back; optics dark and desperately scanned himself for damage. Shock at the little damage reported allowed him to bring his optics online. He could hear laughter echoing around the battlefield.
“Decepticons, retreat!” Megatron cried, taking to the air as quickly as he could. “You shall pay for that Autobot!” He threatened as he flew away. Bluestreak sat up, staring at the large patch of orange paint spattered across the front of his chassis.
“Thought we were meant to be the idiots Bluestreak.” Sideswipe commented, extending a hand to help Bluestreak up. “Don’t know what you did there, but it certainly worked.”
Sniper’s optics met medic’s optics across the field. Ratchet shook his head and turned away, trying to hide his smile.
“You pranked him good, that’s all I can say!” Sideswipe was still chattering away about the effect the Device had had on Megatron’s gun.
“Just a shame you’re too early for April Fool’s.” Sunstreaker sneered, glaring suspiciously at the retreating form of Ratchet.
“Making Megatron’s cannon fire paintballs. He’s not gonna live that one down for a while.” Ratchet nodded in agreement. Wheeljack was still elaborating on what had happened on the battlefield. And had been since they got back to the Ark. “If only I’d have thought of that years ago, the war might not have gone on for so long.”
“Wheeljack, we wouldn’t have even known about paintballs if we hadn’t crashed here.”
“I know, but still. The look on Megatron’s face plate…” Wheeljack's head fins flashed as he laughed.
“Never thought Bluestreak would remember the Device. I thought he was in recharge when I said about wanting Megatron’s cannon to not inflict so much damage. Little fragger.” Ratchet smiled fondly. Bluestreak grinned back and raised his mug of energon.
“Glad yous happy Ratchet.” He slurred before slumping forward on the table.
“Can’t hold his high-grade.” Ratchet explained, leaning to take Bluestreak’s mug from him. “No point in wasting it. Doubt we’ll be seeing the Decepticons until they work out how to fix Megatron’s cannon.”