Transformers Prime: A Sparkling Issue

Chapter 3 - Prime Sitter

Optimus looked from one to the other, not sure what to do. It was like fighting a losing battle. If he gave it back the whole squabble would start again, and if he didn't there was no telling how long they would keep this up. He realized he was going to need more than just one toy to keep them occupied. Again he searched the bunker, trying to block out the screams behind him. Bumblebee crawled after the large mech, watching his every movement with great interest. When nothing could be found anywhere else, the Prime resorted to searching through Ratchet's personal workspace and could only hope he be able to avoid the medic's wrath for it later. He began grabbing anything that seemed safe enough, collecting everything in one of the tubs used to wash the sparklings in. Along with the ball, he threw in three funnels, a few large sprockets, bearings of different sizes, a few gears, an exhaust muffler that was probably a spare of Arcee's, and two clevis fasteners.

They certainly weren't the most exciting of objects, but might at keep them occupied for a time. At least so he could get some work done.

A memory of how the sparklings had liked playing with the rocks in the canyon came to mind. Optimus went to where Ratchet had a collection of different specimen samples near his workstation that he kept around from soon after they'd arrived on Earth. Catching up, Bumblebee plopped himself down and sat watching as the Prime took the clear specimen cases off the shelf that held the largest of plain everyday rocks. With a quick "my apologies" to Ratchet, Optimus dumped all of the chunks into one container, completely filling it, and placed it into the tub. Then, scooping up Bumblebee in one servo while holding the tub with the other arm, the two returned to the entryway.

The two sparkling were still crying. Arcee had calmed to a hiccupping sobbing, but Ratchet was still at it full blast. And Bulkhead ...

"Wait, where's...?" The spot where he had last been napping was deserted. Optimus scanned the room and spied the little green mech by the platform. A small red canister in his servos as he chewed on its metal end. The blue optics went wide as the situation registered in Optimus's processors. "Bulkhead! No!" He dropped the tub and it made a terrible clanging as it hit, causing the ball to bounce out and startling the two sparklings momentarily out of their crying fit.

Suddenly everything cut loose. The strong steel jaw bit through and there was an exploding hiss of air and the canister went flying from little servos. All watched as the fire extinguisher shot into the air like a rocket. It hit the wall with an echoing clang, ricocheted, flew across to the other wall, and ricocheted again. Optimus quickly ducked as it shot inches past his helm, shielding Bumblebee who he still held with his other servo. Another metallic bang as the extinguisher bounced off the wall behind and sailed all the way up nearly to the ceiling. It hit a beam which sent it hurtling down, straight for Bulkhead, who pointed at the oncoming projectile with a happy giggle. Still holding Bumblebee, Optimus flung himself and landed prone in a scrapping of metal, his other outstretched servo shielding the green mech. There was a clang as the extinguisher struck his palm instead of the sparkling. In the same astrosecond it unexpectedly changed course.

Optimus gave a sharp "Ouch!" as it struck between the optics with a cringing clank before flying off again. A loud hysterical baby laughter sounded as Arcee nearly rolled over backwards, a little finger pointing at Optimus who painfully opened his optics in a grimace. More clanging told the rampage wasn't over yet. Quickly, he scooped up Bulkhead into the safety of his palm with Bumblebee who greeted his friend with a happy bleep. Optimus leapt over and collected the remaining sparklings as the extinguisher zoomed by again and he fell to both knees and hunkered down; arms wrapped protectively around the little ones as he hugged them to his chest.

Four more times the flying rocket struck or scraped him in various places while on its flight path. Then a moment later the canister clattered to the floor as the pressure inside began to run out. It scuttled crazily across the concrete a few yards, spun around a dozen times or so with a dissipating hiss; then sat still.