A/N: Okay, so this is my first attempt at fanfiction. Yes, I really am ryagelle's twin. Am I the evil one? Well, that remains to be seen…
The idea for this fic came from a list I found on the web called "213 Things Skippy Can't Do In the Army" and I got this hilarious image of Sideswipe running around with a suction-cup dart pistol sniping at officers and I couldn't stop giggling. So, this mad fic was born. Will probably turn into a series of one-shots based on Skippy's list, featuring various characters from Transformers.
The list, if you're interested, can be found here: skippyslist(dot)com/?page(underscore)id(equal)3
Oh, and much thanks go to my sister, ryagelle, without whom I would never have written this fic, let alone posted it.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
Please read and review, constructive criticism is always welcome.
Sunstreaker was having a good day. No one had tried to provoke him (Cliffjumper was out on patrol), his paintjob was spotless, and he was currently trying to beat God of War in "god mode". Best of all, his idiotic, immature brother had yet to try to connive him into whatever insane scheme he could come up with next.
"Hey Sunny, look what I've got!"
Speak of the devil.
At Sideswipe's entrance, Sunstreaker jerked, startled, then watched in horror as Kratos jumped right off the side of a cliff. He raised his irritated gaze to his brother's cheerful, too-innocent face and wondered if Prime might forgive fratricide just this once.
Probably not.
"What do you want, Sideswipe?" he growled.
Sideswipe grinned, apparently unaware of the murderous bent his twin's thoughts were taking, though most likely he just didn't care. "Take a look at this," he said proudly, holding up a small (by Transformers standards) box triumphantly. "I ordered this thing a few weeks ago and now it's finally here!" He hurriedly opened the box then set it on the desk.
Intrigued in spite of himself, Sunstreaker stood up and peered into the box. Looking back up, he saw the stupid, slag-eating grin on his brother's face.
"No."
"Aww, but Sunny—," Sideswipe whined, instantly crestfallen.
"No. I'm not getting pulled into any more of your stupid pranks, Sides," the golden warrior replied. "We just got out of the brig from the last time."
"You gotta admit, the look on Wheeljack's face was priceless—"
Sunstreaker just glared at him. It was time to bring out the big guns. Sideswipe put on what humans referred to as the cute, adorable puppy-dog face.
"That's not going to work on me again, Sideswipe," Sunstreaker snarled.
"Please," the red twin pleaded. He clasped his hands together and pouted at his brother.
"For the last time, Sides, no!"
"We're so going to get in trouble for this," Sunstreaker muttered as Sideswipe peeked cautiously around the corner of the intersection. Just down the hall stood their first targets, their backs turned toward them. Sideswipe's head snaked left, then right as he made sure the coast was clear. He motioned to Sunstreaker, who moved soundlessly to the corner opposite his brother. Shooting one another an evil grin, they turned as one, took aim, and fired.
"What the—" Ironhide roared as he whipped around, catching a glimpse of red and yellow as the culprits fled down the hallway and out of sight.
A snicker behind him reminded him of Jazz's presence. Turning back around to level a scowl at the saboteur, he snapped, "What?"
"Hold still for a second," the Porsche replied as he walked around Ironhide, trying valiantly to contain his laughter as he plucked something off of the red mech's skidplate. He held the objects up for Ironhide to see. Upon seeing Ironhide's dumbstruck expression, Jazz burst out laughing, wondering how in the world the twins had managed to acquire Transformer-sized suction-cup darts.
Prowl's vents cycled in a sigh as he surveyed the datapads stacked neatly on his desk. Once these were taken care of, his afternoon was free. He fully intended to spend it tucked away in his quarters with a cube of energon, and the new book-file Skydive had lent him on military aircraft of World War II.
Picking up the first of the datapads, he began skimming through it when a soft scraping sound drew his attention to the open door of his office. As he looked up, he saw two pistols pointed directly at his chestplate. He froze for a brief moment, then did what any sensible mech would do—he dove for the floor.
Unfortunately, he did not move fast enough. Chortles of glee faded down the hallway as the Datsun stared in dismay at the two darts still quivering on his left doorwing.
"SIDESWIPE!"
Sideswipe's search for new targets led the twins in the direction of the med bay. When Sunstreaker realized where they were headed, he began to protest. Loudly.
"Sides! Are you suicidal?! We can't prank Ratchet, he'll scrap us for spare parts!"
"Be quiet, Sunny! Do you want to get caught?" the red Lamborghini hissed.
"No, but I also don't want to get on the wrong side of Ratchet's throwing arm," Sunstreaker continued, but at a much lower volume.
"Don't worry Sunny, we'll sneak up on him. He'll never know it was us," Sideswipe replied confidently.
"Why do I not believe you?" Sunstreaker muttered, earning a dirty glare from his brother.
Reaching their destination, the brothers peered past the door, one gleeful, one reluctant. Their target stood with Wheeljack, completing inventory in time for the next supply run. They loaded their dart guns and began to aim.
Unfortunately for the twins, however, their luck seemed to run out, as at just that moment an unholy screech filled the air.
"Traitors!" The Lamborghinis saw Red Alert barreling toward them, and it looked as if he was quickly working himself into a frenzy. The warriors gaped at one another then as one turned to flee. "You won't get away with this—!"
"The frag is going on?!" Ratchet roared, coming out of the med bay in time to catch each miscreant by an arm. "What are you two idiots up to this time? And you better give me a straight answer, or I'll reformat you two fraggers into slagging garbage disposals!"
The twins blanched at the not-so-idle threat from the wrathful CMO.
"I saw them, Ratchet!" Red Alert cried. "Attacking an officer! Prime can't let them off the hook this time. They were getting ready to fire these weapons at you—it's got to be a Decepticon plot, I just know it!" The fritzing security officer displayed the small pistols he'd managed to confiscate from the twins in the confusion.
Wheeljack, who had followed Ratchet out of the med bay, peered over Sideswipe's shoulder at Red Alert's prizes. "Uh, Red…" he said hesitantly, "Those are toys."
The red and white Lamborghini was undeterred. "Sure they look like toys—how do you think they managed to sneak them into the Ark? It's all a part of their evil plan!"
"Whoa there, Red, hit the brakes," Ratchet interrupted, before the security officer could gain much steam. "I don't want to have to fix you if your processor freezes up again."
"You're overreacting a little bit, Red," Wheeljack said soothingly. "The twins are just up to their usual mischief." At this he shot a glare at the offending Lamborghinis. "We should just let Prowl take care of this."
Red Alert opened his mouth for a retort when he was neatly derailed by a smooth voice saying, "Yes, I really think you should let Prowl deal with this." The voice was followed by the tactician himself, wearing a look of smoldering anger. Behind the Datsun walked a scowling Ironhide and a bouncing, madly giggling Jazz.
"How'd you know what was going on?" Wheeljack asked, puzzled. In answer, Prowl held up several darts. "Oh, got you too, huh?"
"Yes, and when we heard Red Alert yelling, we knew exactly where to find them," Prowl replied. He turned to the errant tricksters with a frown. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"
Sideswipe shrugged as best he could in Ratchet's grip. "Seemed like a good idea at the time," he replied with a disarming grin. Sunstreaker just glared stubbornly.
Prowl sighed, having long since become immune to Sideswipe's particular brand of charm. "Report to my office."
As the twins began to follow Prowl down the hall, Sunstreaker cuffed his brother on the side of the head and said, "Told you we'd get in trouble for this."
Rule #6: Not allowed to play "Pulp Fiction" with a suction-cup dart pistol and any officer. (Okay, so it doesn't have anything to do with "Pulp Fiction", but c'mon, Sideswipe with a dart pistol…!)