Captain Lennox had eventually gone home. His annoyed looks at Ironhide were tempered with smirks of glee. While Ironhide had called him out with the flimsiest of excuses just for a prank, Lennox was glad he had been let in on the joke. Who wouldn’t want to see the biggest and baddest of the Autobots completely undone by a tiny Chihuahua? Practically crying in frustration with a yapping dog defying every desperate order from the god-like mech?
Optimus Prime stood and watched the tail lights of Will’s car disappear into the distance. His amplified optics were easily able to make out their red glow several miles down the barren road.
After momentarily getting his bodily control back from his comical laughing fit, Ironhide had retreated with staggering unsteady steps back into the hanger. Uncontrolled bursts of snickering still echoed out from the open doorway.
Ratchet observed his leader silently. He had Mojo in the palm of one hand, the tip of one of his fingers gently stroking the dog’s back. Mojo was enjoying the warmth of Ratchet’s metal skin, snuggling in happily. And privately he was enjoying the company of the only sane and dog-friendly Transformer of the whole group (in Mojo’s doggy opinion).
Optimus turned slightly in his stance, pivoting easily on one lengthy leg. His head lowered. Narrowed glowing optics caught onto Ratchet’s patient expression. Ratchet’s spark skipped a pulse. He had to force himself to not step back from such a penetrating stare. Optimus was well aware of how intimidating his presence could be, and outside of battle situations (and other circumstances, including taming the wildest antics of the dreaded Autobot Twins) he carefully did his best to not cause nervousness or fear in his companions and friends. Normally he projected waves of a friendly and caring personality.
Not this time...
“I clearly recall you saying Mojo was easy to walk,” Optimus rumbled deeply. His optics were deepening in color to a nasty blue almost matching the darkness of the evening outside the hanger.
“Uh, well, did I?” Ratchet smiled nervously.
“Yes, you did. Shall I play the sound bite I made and stored?” Optimus propped one hand on his hip menacingly. He thought about thrusting his chest out more but it did that by design anyway.
“Ah, no, no.” The medic looked down at the little dog in his hand. Mojo was looking up at him with friendly earnest eyes. He was happy as can be despite his disastrous walk with the inept Autobot Leader.
Optimus shook his head, turning back to look into the distance. The lights from the inside of their building reflected off the metallic surfaces of his broad armoured back. His sensors casually picked up the far away lights and sounds of the human civilisations in the distance. After a suitable interval of silence, Ratchet spoke up.
“So, what now?” he asked, expecting some sort of harsher reprimand.
“Now?” Optimus’ growling voice sounded all too serious.
Uh oh, here it comes, thought Ratchet. He was startled when the great mech’s head moved to look at him over his shoulder with a wicked grin on his faceplates. “Now we work out exactly how to get Ironhide back for his well-planned prank on my poor ego.”
Ratchet’s optics lit up with an excited glow, “Yes, yes!” he exclaimed. Mojo barked, his tail wagging. He wanted in on it too.
Meanwhile, the kids are on their way back to pick up Mojo from DogCamp...
Sam was in heaven. It was a beautiful day; hot as; and he was travelling in his gorgeous alien-derived Camaro, accompanied by his equally gorgeous girlfriend. He was dangling his left arm out the driver’s window, sunglasses perched casually on his grinning face. Bumblebee playfully kept threatening to upshoot the windowpane underneath his protruding arm but Sam stopped that with well-placed little kicks to the underside of the dashboard.
So it was understandable that Sam shrieked with shock and Mikaela squealed with indignity when the car slammed on its brakes, whipped open both passenger doors and dumped the passengers gracelessly out onto the dirt road.
“BEE! What?!” Sam cried, scrambling to his feet. Further yells of anger were stopped by what happened next.
While Sam and Mikaela watched with horrified eyes, the car staggered in weird jumps and swings on its suspension, turning in a wide slow circle around the stunned humans. Sam shrank backwards, Mikaela pressed herself to his back, wide-eyed.
“Bumblebee, what’s wrong?!” Mikaela cried, brushing and rubbing dirt from her side with one hand while clutching onto Sam’s arm with the other.
The only response they got was the car shuddering and transforming into robot form. ‘Bee was splayed out on his back once the process finished. His arms and legs jerked spasmodically. Shrills and clicks in Cybertronian came from Bumblebee’s apparently anguished form. Sam and Mikaela got closer. Cautiously.
“Bumblebee, please, what’s wrong? What can we do? Tell us!” Sam implored, reaching out to touch his best friend and guardian. Mikaela pulled him back from being hit by one of ‘Bee’s flailing arms. “Can robots have epilepsy?” Mikaela hissed into his ear, worried. Sam just looked wild-eyed, unable to answer.
Finally, the weird whistling and squealing coming from Bumblebee stopped.
“Ironhide...!” Bee gasped, rolling over onto his side to face the two humans.
“Ironhide? What’s wrong with Ironhide? And what’s wrong with you?!” Sam practically shrieked, terrified for his friend.
“Ironhide... Optimus, and, and, MOJO,” Bumblebee awkwardly got out using his still-newly-repaired voice.
It was Mikaela who finally caught on to what was happening. Bumblebee wasn’t in pain or malfunctioning, he was LAUGHING. “Bumblebee? What did Ironhide do that was so funny? He’s not funny, he’s weird, just not funny,” she questioned, squinting cutely at the yellow Autobot.
Another Cybertronian stream of clicks and whistles came from their friend. His body heaved in another spasm of mirth. Bumblebee got to his feet like a human two-year-old learning to get up, snickered, then transformed with several clunks. He opened his doors, inviting them inside, “See!” he urged.
Looking at each other and wondering if it was the sane thing to do, the humans got back into their seats. A small screen rose up out of the car’s dashboard and started to play. It took 3.789 Earth seconds by Bumblebee’s quick calculation before Sam gasped and his face registered what he was seeing.
“That’s Optimus! With Mojo! WALKING Mojo! Oh Christ!! Bee, where did you get this?!”
“Ironhide. Sent it.” Bee’s voice spoke with difficulty. His car form shook as a way of expressing more laughter.
Mikaela smothered her face with two hands, trying to stop the inelegant snorts coming from her nose. This was too precious. There was the huge masculine mech. And there was the tiny puffed up Chihuahua. Each of them fighting to see exactly WHO was in control of this walk. The words of sad desperation coming from Optimus were beyond belief. Mojo gave as good as he got.
“Bee, hurry up,” Sam choked, laughing, “I want to confront Optimus with this. That was insane! Lets go!” He slapped one hand on the dashboard for emphasis. Bumblebee didn’t need telling. He floored it.