TransFormers: More Than Bakes The Pie!
Author's Note: My first TF fic was going nowhere, so I've made the decision to restart and do something totally stupid. But at least I'll be able to stay awake through this one. So, here we go. ***********
0730 hours (Earth Time), Location: The Ark.
"By the power of the Matrix, OPEN YOU SLAGGIN' PLASTIC CONTAINER MODULE!"
Jazz came stumbling into the Ark's primary kitchen and was greeted by these words. His optic sensors had not yet adjusted to the bright lights of the hallways after waking from his brief recharge period/catnap, and by the sounds of things someone felt like giving him a mecha-migraine to go with his blindness.
"Uhhh.That you, Prime?"
"Jazz! I need assistance!"
"With what?"
Jazz' eyesight came back just in time to see a small plastic cylinder flying toward him. Catching it in one hand, he felt a distinct increase in his arm-mounted thermometers; whatever it was the object was warm.
"And this is.?"
"It's my Micro Noodles!"
Jazz stared at the object. Indeed, the words 'Ready for consumption after 90 seconds in the microwave' were printed on its side. Jazz tugged at the lid, but the thin foil would not budge.
"Well, I can't get this to work either. Have you asked Wheeljack to do something about it?"
"I just did. He's in his lab working on 'something which looks like a winner' as we speak."
~The Ark's Main Lab Area~
"Wheeljack?"
"Yeah, Ratchet?"
"Isn't the BLUE wire generally the safest option for failsafe connections?"
"Well, you're correct as usual, my medical friend, but I can't use that, on account of using up the last of the blue wiring to create the new washing machine, which my glamorous assistant over there is modelling."
Wheeljack waved to his left, and a red silk curtain was raised, showing Arcee posing with something which appeared to be a miniaturised, less- functional version of the Millennium Falcon. Such faults were lost on Arcee, who was too busy pouting for the non-existent camera.
Wheeljack continued. ".Isn't she lovely? Anyway, that's exactly why I'm havin' to use this thin strand of low-quality copper. Which, as you may know, is the normal material for Autobot nasal hair."
Ratchet resisted the urge to ask where said nasal hair came from. "Wouldn't the high current from the power supply instantly fry the wiring and result in a disastrous system crash, with fatal side-effects for those in the immediate proximity?"
Wheeljack seemed to think for a moment, the small disco-globes on the sides of his head rotating and sparkling softly. Then he snapped, "My genius intellect tells me that you're a moron who has noooo idea what he's talking about, and I would kindly advise you to keep your scent sensors to yourself while I become the pioneer of another Nobel Prize-winning invention."
Ratchet cringed. He was thinking of running away, but had been hypnotised by Wheeljack's glittering balls. Plus, he was a medic, for Primus' sake; he hadn't ran since Physical class at the Secondary Education Institute.
With a smarmy flourish, Wheeljack connected the last resistor and switched on the power. The results were quick and efficient; an enormous explosion knocked Ratchet off his feet, Arcee collapsed and was promptly crushed under the falling washing machine, and Wheeljack's left arm was torn off. Then silence fell.
Wheeljack stood exactly where he was and blinked slowly. Ratchet struggled to heave his top-heavy body from the floor. Arcee lay motionless in what J.R. would call 'a compromising position'. Nobody could think of anything to say. Well, until Hot Rod showed up, wearing a pair of fake Armani sunglasses, which he hadn't taken off since he'd seen Terminator 2.
"Woah, dude!"
That cracked it. Ratchet mumbled a vague death threat; Arcee closed her legs quicker than the average carbon-based life form can blink; and Wheeljack picked up his left arm in his right and proceeded to beat the mechanical moron around the head with it, swinging as hard as he possibly could.
~Back in the kitchen~
Prime and Jazz were silent as they heard a muffled explosion. There was a short pause, then the sound of metal hitting against metal could be heard, mixing with high-pitched yelps of pain.
Prime nodded. "It sounds like he's making progress."
Jazz was thoughtful. "Have you tried asking the 'Cons to open this?"
Optimus' reaction was quick and to the point. "NEVER! How could I betray my predecessors and plead for my enemy's assistance? How could - wait a minute!" Optimus levelled a finger at Jazz. "Are you implying that you plan to betray the Autobots?!"
Jazz was confused. "No, what I meant was."
Optimus was now livid, waggling his metallic arms in all directions. "YOU DARE BETRAY US! I thought I could trust you, and look what you go and do! I have half a neural cortex to - "
Jazz slapped Optimus right on the faceplate. "Shut up, man! All I meant was that Megatron could easily just shoot the lid off this thing! We don't have that kind of firepower!"
Optimus stroked his chin. "What about Omega Supreme?"
Jazz shook his head. "He's not appearing in this chapter, Prime."
Optimus shook his head. "Very well then. I don't like it, but there's no other way." Prime took a deep breath. ".ROLL OUT FOR THE DECEPTICON BASE!"
Jazz covered his audio receptors. "Don't shout, man! I'm the only one who's going!"
Optimus nodded. "True, but Bumblebee might want to tag along."
Jazz sank to his knees. "NOOOOOOOO!"
"Aww, quit your whining and get a move on."
"Yessir!"
With that, Jazz transformed into one heckuva sexy Porsche and.promptly stalled on the spot.
"Scrap! What's wrong?"
Optimus scratched his head. "That would be Teletran 1's fault. It continuously updates our systems while we recharge to keep our alternate modes up to date with the latest human models, and it seems the latest Porsches are terrible."
"Dang. So I have to WALK or somethin'?"
"Hey, don't feel as if you drew the short straw. I only get two miles to the gallon now!"
***************
Author's Note: Not a bad start, eh? Next time, Jazz boldly goes where no Autobot has gone before.to an AA centre! Well, no, but I might use that idea some other time. It might be funny.seriously though, he's going to Decepticon HQ to see what they can do with this situation.
Will Jazz survive his meeting with the 'Cons?
Will Wheeljack create something which actually works?
Will Megatron shoot his own foot then fly away, yelling "I SHALL RETURRRRRRNNNNN!"? (Probably)
The answers to these and more in the next exciting episode, entitled 'TransFormers: The Ultmiate Spoon'.
Microwave Jockey
Author's Note: My first TF fic was going nowhere, so I've made the decision to restart and do something totally stupid. But at least I'll be able to stay awake through this one. So, here we go. ***********
0730 hours (Earth Time), Location: The Ark.
"By the power of the Matrix, OPEN YOU SLAGGIN' PLASTIC CONTAINER MODULE!"
Jazz came stumbling into the Ark's primary kitchen and was greeted by these words. His optic sensors had not yet adjusted to the bright lights of the hallways after waking from his brief recharge period/catnap, and by the sounds of things someone felt like giving him a mecha-migraine to go with his blindness.
"Uhhh.That you, Prime?"
"Jazz! I need assistance!"
"With what?"
Jazz' eyesight came back just in time to see a small plastic cylinder flying toward him. Catching it in one hand, he felt a distinct increase in his arm-mounted thermometers; whatever it was the object was warm.
"And this is.?"
"It's my Micro Noodles!"
Jazz stared at the object. Indeed, the words 'Ready for consumption after 90 seconds in the microwave' were printed on its side. Jazz tugged at the lid, but the thin foil would not budge.
"Well, I can't get this to work either. Have you asked Wheeljack to do something about it?"
"I just did. He's in his lab working on 'something which looks like a winner' as we speak."
~The Ark's Main Lab Area~
"Wheeljack?"
"Yeah, Ratchet?"
"Isn't the BLUE wire generally the safest option for failsafe connections?"
"Well, you're correct as usual, my medical friend, but I can't use that, on account of using up the last of the blue wiring to create the new washing machine, which my glamorous assistant over there is modelling."
Wheeljack waved to his left, and a red silk curtain was raised, showing Arcee posing with something which appeared to be a miniaturised, less- functional version of the Millennium Falcon. Such faults were lost on Arcee, who was too busy pouting for the non-existent camera.
Wheeljack continued. ".Isn't she lovely? Anyway, that's exactly why I'm havin' to use this thin strand of low-quality copper. Which, as you may know, is the normal material for Autobot nasal hair."
Ratchet resisted the urge to ask where said nasal hair came from. "Wouldn't the high current from the power supply instantly fry the wiring and result in a disastrous system crash, with fatal side-effects for those in the immediate proximity?"
Wheeljack seemed to think for a moment, the small disco-globes on the sides of his head rotating and sparkling softly. Then he snapped, "My genius intellect tells me that you're a moron who has noooo idea what he's talking about, and I would kindly advise you to keep your scent sensors to yourself while I become the pioneer of another Nobel Prize-winning invention."
Ratchet cringed. He was thinking of running away, but had been hypnotised by Wheeljack's glittering balls. Plus, he was a medic, for Primus' sake; he hadn't ran since Physical class at the Secondary Education Institute.
With a smarmy flourish, Wheeljack connected the last resistor and switched on the power. The results were quick and efficient; an enormous explosion knocked Ratchet off his feet, Arcee collapsed and was promptly crushed under the falling washing machine, and Wheeljack's left arm was torn off. Then silence fell.
Wheeljack stood exactly where he was and blinked slowly. Ratchet struggled to heave his top-heavy body from the floor. Arcee lay motionless in what J.R. would call 'a compromising position'. Nobody could think of anything to say. Well, until Hot Rod showed up, wearing a pair of fake Armani sunglasses, which he hadn't taken off since he'd seen Terminator 2.
"Woah, dude!"
That cracked it. Ratchet mumbled a vague death threat; Arcee closed her legs quicker than the average carbon-based life form can blink; and Wheeljack picked up his left arm in his right and proceeded to beat the mechanical moron around the head with it, swinging as hard as he possibly could.
~Back in the kitchen~
Prime and Jazz were silent as they heard a muffled explosion. There was a short pause, then the sound of metal hitting against metal could be heard, mixing with high-pitched yelps of pain.
Prime nodded. "It sounds like he's making progress."
Jazz was thoughtful. "Have you tried asking the 'Cons to open this?"
Optimus' reaction was quick and to the point. "NEVER! How could I betray my predecessors and plead for my enemy's assistance? How could - wait a minute!" Optimus levelled a finger at Jazz. "Are you implying that you plan to betray the Autobots?!"
Jazz was confused. "No, what I meant was."
Optimus was now livid, waggling his metallic arms in all directions. "YOU DARE BETRAY US! I thought I could trust you, and look what you go and do! I have half a neural cortex to - "
Jazz slapped Optimus right on the faceplate. "Shut up, man! All I meant was that Megatron could easily just shoot the lid off this thing! We don't have that kind of firepower!"
Optimus stroked his chin. "What about Omega Supreme?"
Jazz shook his head. "He's not appearing in this chapter, Prime."
Optimus shook his head. "Very well then. I don't like it, but there's no other way." Prime took a deep breath. ".ROLL OUT FOR THE DECEPTICON BASE!"
Jazz covered his audio receptors. "Don't shout, man! I'm the only one who's going!"
Optimus nodded. "True, but Bumblebee might want to tag along."
Jazz sank to his knees. "NOOOOOOOO!"
"Aww, quit your whining and get a move on."
"Yessir!"
With that, Jazz transformed into one heckuva sexy Porsche and.promptly stalled on the spot.
"Scrap! What's wrong?"
Optimus scratched his head. "That would be Teletran 1's fault. It continuously updates our systems while we recharge to keep our alternate modes up to date with the latest human models, and it seems the latest Porsches are terrible."
"Dang. So I have to WALK or somethin'?"
"Hey, don't feel as if you drew the short straw. I only get two miles to the gallon now!"
***************
Author's Note: Not a bad start, eh? Next time, Jazz boldly goes where no Autobot has gone before.to an AA centre! Well, no, but I might use that idea some other time. It might be funny.seriously though, he's going to Decepticon HQ to see what they can do with this situation.
Will Jazz survive his meeting with the 'Cons?
Will Wheeljack create something which actually works?
Will Megatron shoot his own foot then fly away, yelling "I SHALL RETURRRRRRNNNNN!"? (Probably)
The answers to these and more in the next exciting episode, entitled 'TransFormers: The Ultmiate Spoon'.
Microwave Jockey