It's Not Unusual

[Ratchet]

Characters: Ratchet, @smokescreen, @jazz, Prowl
Location: Autobot Base Control Room
Content Warnings: N/A
Plot Summary: An ordinary day at the Autobot base gets flipped, turned upside down when two Autobots arrive at the base. Will Jazz and Prowl be able to acclimate to their new surroundings, or will the duo be too much for the current Autobots at the base to handle?

[Ratchet]

To say that Ratchet had been expecting company today, especially the kind that would be joining their ranks, would be a complete and total lie.

It'd been a fairly average day for the Autobot CMO, dealing with the usual occurrences around the base. He'd focused a rather large portion of his time trying to come up the solution to their current energon crisis. A synthetic variation would be a preferable option, but just how to go about creating such a substance..? It almost seemed impossible, but Ratchet was determined as all hell to make it happen. When he wasn't focused on his research, he was busy losing things he needed in 'tragic' accidents. That poor wrench.. He could fix it, but he really did need that.

For the moment he had retired to the control room, seated not far from the ground bridge, datapad in hand. Perhaps he could find something in his notes that could get him started with a formula for a synthetic energon. Certainly something in here could be useful. He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone pulled him from his research, but for now he was enjoying the peace and quiet he was granted.

[Deleted]

Ratchet wasn't the only one in the control room at the moment. Smokescreen was also hanging around, relaxed in his seat with a datapad of his own shoved in his face. Just what was it he was doing? One who didn't know better would guess that maybe he was also researching like the medic was. Pfft. That had been far from the case.

He'd been looking up videos on his datapad, researching human things as he would have put it. Currently he had videos of what humans deemed 'funny', though he had to admit that they weren't wrong. Some of these were pretty funny, even if other videos he found himself watching made him cringe. There was nothing funny about watching someone get hurt, even if the injured person laughed the whole incident off. Humans were weird..

The Elite Guard warrior sighed, setting his datapad down. Now he was bored, and he wanted to go do something fun. Getting up, the mech stretched a little before approaching Ratchet. He wasn't sure where the rest of the members of their group were, but he was going to at least let the one mech he knew the location of know he was gonna take off for a bit. "Ratchet? You mind if I go out for a drive for a bit? I'm so bored and I just wanna stretch my servos a bit."

Little did he know that excitement was just about to come through the door, or maybe it'd been waiting directly outside of the base. Either way, Smokescreen was going to think differently about this day in just a short while.

[Deleted]

It had been a very long time since they’d had the opportunity to actually drive anywhere. Having spent the last couple thousand years scooting around the galaxy first in a tiny shuttle, and then a slightly larger (and slightly less cramped) freighter, being able to have the space to transform and roll out was a Primus-given blessing. They could have flown over for a visit, of course, but with the Sigma’s cloaking mechanism damaged and the main array dish in pieces due to their less-than-gentle landing, they’d opted for a more conservative approach - parking the Sigma somewhere where no natives would stumble over it, and then taking a road trip to find the Autobot Outpost on this planet.

The open sky was above them and the open road before them, and Jazz was all too happy to gun it and max out the speedometer. Giddiness at seeing some comrades he'd not seen since the Exodus mingled with the delight of driving alongside his best friend and conjunx. His engine purred happily at the opportunity to stretch its metaphorical legs, pistons pumping and all cylinders firing at full throttle. From the radio blared a rather catchy tune, hinting at a very diverse and promising culture of music he was just itching to get a closer listen to.

“This place ain’t so bad,” He decided. It was purely on the basis of how much of an audio-worm the song was turning out to be. “The locals have got some decent stuff. Gonna have to add it to th’ library when we get back t’ the Sigma.”

Finally, they came into the general area of the origin of the signal that had drawn them to Earth. Jazz opened up a short-wave radio broadcast frequency: it was just powerful enough for any Autobots in the immediate area to pick up, but weak enough that no Decepticon sensor could ever pick it up.

“This is Prowl and Jazz, callin’ all Autobots,” He announced, the grin in his voice quite evident, “We heard there was a party and thought we’d drop by,” And then cheekily he added, “There is a party, right? ‘Cause if there ain’t one, I’m startin’ it.”

[Deleted]

Being on a planet with allies was a welcome change from the past few millennia. No matter how small the Autobot forces stationed here were, this was the place where Optimus Prime was supposed to be and, by extent, his personal team. A team with some familiar and long-missed faces. It would be nice to work with mechs he could trust again, even if it meant staying parked on a planet that the Decepticon flagship was orbiting.

That had made landing an interesting endeavour. A successful one, thank goodness, but not one Prowl was willing to repeat any time soon. The odds had been against them, and he had told Jazz as much despite his partner’s complaints to keep his ‘calcs of doom’ to himself.

Not long after hiding the Sigma, they hit the road. Prowl wanted to race at top speed as much as Jazz, but someone needed to uphold the law. Thus he slowed down at times, prompting Jazz to fall back into acceptable speed parameters for a while before gunning his engine again. While Jazz perused the local music, Prowl tuned into the local news and started looking for patterns that might give away any covert Decepticon activity.

“I’m sure there’s room,” Prowl replied absentmindedly.

There had to be a drive somewhere that Jazz hadn’t maxed out yet. If not, they would need to expand the Sigma’s storage space—again. But that wasn’t important at the moment. Finding their comrades was at the forefront of Prowl’s mind. He had settled for the fastest way to the area where the Autobot signal hailed from for a reason. As they neared the area, the landscape became more and more arid, as well as devoid of natives.

“Jazz,” Prowl chastised. They may know some of the Autobots on the planet, but they hadn’t seen them in a very long time. They should stick it in neutral for now; it was only polite, instead of assuming they were all still great friends. Into the frequency, he added, “We are nearing the coordinates given in Optimus Prime’s message. ETA is”—he made a quick conversion to the local time units—“roughly two minutes.”

[Ratchet]

Of all the mechs that had to be in the same space as him at the moment.. it had to be Smokescreen. Really, Ratchet shouldn't've been complaining as there could've been worse Cybertronians to share the room with, but that was beside the point. He glanced over to the younger Autobot, taking quick note of his boredom. Things had been a bit quiet lately, though he knew that it wouldn't stay like this for long. Eventually the Decepticons would strike and they would need to be ready.

Apparently Smokescreen's idea of preparing himself was going out for a joyride.

"Smokescreen if you're going out to cause trouble then the answer's no. You're staying put." Not even seconds after lecturing the youngster briefly, their systems picked up a communication from two Autobots. Curiously, Ratchet checked it out and instantly recognized the two voices. Prowl and Jazz! Primus just how long had it been since he'd seen or heard from those two?

"We read you loud and clear, Jazz. Prowl. This is Ratchet. We are eagerly awaiting your arrival."

[Deleted]

Ratchet, you joy killer! Smokescreen pouted a bit, looking rather frustrated at Ratchet's denial. True, he could just leave if he really wanted to, but did he really want to have to put up with a certain medic and his wrench throwing at the end of the day? Not really. Those things really hurt! Instinctively he rubbed his helm at the mere thought, looking to the medic.

"Alright, alright.. Fine. I'll just stay here and be bored out of my-"

Before he could even finish, that's when the communication had been picked up. Neither voice belonged to anyone he knew, or at least anyone he remembered from his Elite Guard training. He'd let Ratchet handle things, but that had been referred to as Jazz seemed like quite the fun guy already. He wanted to party? Oh, Smokescreen was ready to make that happen.

"And this is Smokescreen! If it's a party you're looking for, then you've come to the right planet."

[Deleted]

Ratchet wasn’t the only joy killer around, though Jazz had long grown used to Prowl’s more subtle ways of keeping everyone in check. When his partner and conjunx slowed down in order to slow him down, cleverly and correctly surmising that though Jazz wanted nothing more than to put metal to the pedal, he was also loathe to risk leaving him behind. Perhaps centuries ago this would have driven Jazz up the wall, but time tended to change people, and Prowl’s presence had served to mellow him out a bit.

Mostly mellow, anyways.

“Ratchet!” Jazz crowed in delight, his engine rumbling out of the sheer joy of hearing the voice of a very old friend after spending so long not knowing who had made it off Cybertron alive. “Mech, is it good to hear the sound of your voice! And I can’t say I know your name, Smokescreen, but I’m lookin’ forward to holdin’ you to that party promise!” Prowl might fuss about propriety and not stepping on any pedes, but it had been an incredibly long time since they had seen any of their friends. Jazz could hardly be blamed for wanting to celebrate.

It wasn’t long before the two Autobots made the final approach to the tall mesa the coordinates had lead them to. The road leading up, on closer inspection, seemed to lead to nowhere… right on up to the cliff face. It didn’t take long for Jazz’s sharp optical sensors to pick out where the hologram projectors were hidden. They drove right through it without hesitation, and up through the subsequent hallway.

“Some decent digs you got here, Ratch,” He said approvingly, once he’d transformed and done a bit of a stretch. None of the tech even resembled modern Cybertronian counterparts, and the space bridge seemed to be cobbled together from scraps and pure old-fashioned ingenuity, but Jazz was no stranger to the art of ‘making things work’.

[Deleted]

Prowl remained quiet as he let Jazz handle the small talk. Hearing Ratchet’s voice again made something inside him grow calmer, and one of his subroutines already started making a list of the lingering aches in his frame that he would like the medic to look over. Jazz and he hadn’t been to a proper physician in longer than he cared to remember. Most of their injuries had been patched up by their own untrained hands, the rest left to heal through self-repair. It was a miracle they didn’t rattle when they walked.

As they entered the hidden base, Prowl scanned the surroundings. The area was safe. Not as safe as he would have liked, but it would do for the time being. They could do better, certainly, but when resources were as scant as they were, it was always a matter of not doing worse.

Once inside, Prowl transformed into his bipedal form and took a step forward, absentmindedly resting a hand on Jazz’s arm once his partner had finished stretching. He flared his doorwings in greeting.

“Ratchet.”

Then he raised an optic ridge at the other Autobot present. Young, inexperienced, zealous. He was like a passwordless datapad—so very easy to read. Prowl went over his databanks to see if he had worked with the mech before. He hadn’t. A new recruit then, or at least one that was new to the battlefront. Prowl created a new file for him.

“Smokescreen.”

Then he focused on the room. He hadn’t expected hi-tech; of course he hadn’t. Still, seeing just how very primitive the technology available to them on this planet was caused him some dismay. Jazz’s praise was honest, and Prowl was equally satisfied with his comrades’ resourcefulness, but he doubted he had managed to keep his face from showing a bit of the anguished distaste he was feeling.

His tacnet took over, working out ways to make the equipment at their disposition more useful. His emotions retreated to the back of his processors. The amber visor banded over his optics dimmed as his systems fed more power to his battle computer.

“You have done acceptably here,” Prowl said, at last somewhat agreeing with Jazz out loud.

He moved away from his partner, reaching for a small and flickering screen. It was old even by the native life forms’ standards, and not in the best shape. Surely their organic allies could have spared better equipment for them? Prowl ran a slow and contemplative finger over its top, disturbing the dust. He rubbed the organic particles off his fingertip, doorwings giving a twitch as he focused on the people around him once more.

[Ratchet]

Oh good. This wasn't going to be so awkward after all, aside from having to introduce Smokescreen to the duo approaching the base. He remembered Jazz and Prowl both from their time on Cybertron, and it seemed that the both of them remembered the medic as well. Ratchet nearly smirked at the thought, but stayed focused on their conversation as the younger mech with him chimed in.

Primus.. why did he have this horrible feeling Jazz was going to get along famously with this kid?

Fighting the urge to slap his hand to his forehead, Ratchet glanced towards the entrance of the base when he began to hear the sound of engines revving. Prowl had said they'd been approximately two minutes away, so that could only have been them unless one of the others had just returned from recon with the world's most convenient timing. Indeed it had been the two mechs the medic hadn't seen in so long, transforming and getting a look at their new surroundings. The two of them hadn't changed all that much since the last time he'd seen them, if any. It was hard to tell.. especially with how much time had passed.

Even with Prowl being the 'up-to-code' kinda mech he was, even he seemed to be alright with the base itself.. which only spoke volumes about the state of their hideout.

"We've done what we could with the technology found on this planet, though of course we've had help from some of the humans as well.. primarily Agent Fowler. He is the one who set us up with this missile silo that has been converted into our now base." The elder mech glanced back, looking to the Elite Guardsman standing not too far away from him. "I suppose I should get introductions out of the way. Jazz. Prowl. This is Smokescreen. He trained with the Elite Guard while we were all busy with the war efforts. Smokescreen, this is Jazz and Prowl.. as you've probably already guessed."

[Deleted]

Smokescreen had to admit it was a bit awkward dealing with a medic and two mechs he hadn't met before, but at the same time that's what made the whole situation fun. He was getting to meet new faces, and meeting people was always fun.. when they weren't trying to kill you of course. That was never any fun unless it turned into an epic battle. Ok, maybe that wasn't all that fun either, but the thrill of the fight was always exciting.

He stood back as the two Autobots arrived at their base, Ratchet greeting them as the duo checked things out. Now that he was seeing them, now he was starting to think back a bit. Jazz he didn't know, but he was starting to think he'd heard stories of this Prowl before.. and how much of a 'by-the-book' mech he was. Smokescreen kept watch as the police mech thoroughly inspected the base, practically giving him a deadpan look. Oh.. this one was gonna be a fun one. He could already tell.

Now Jazz, or at least the one he was fairly certain was Jazz, seemed like a pretty cool guy. Surely he was if he was wanting to look for a party, right? The Elite Guard warrior was more than excited to get to know this guy and bring that party to him as promised.

Once the grump had gotten introductions out of the way, Smokescreen held out a servo to shake the duo's hands, then saluted. "It's nice to meet the both of you. I hope you guys like it here on Earth, cause I know I sure do. The folks around here really know how to liven up the place." Maybe taking Prowl out to 'pizza' someone's care would loosen him up a bit?

[Deleted]

Maybe Prowl had been hoping for something a bit more than what he’d seen, but Jazz had already figured any surviving Autobots would have had to cobble together resources, even if it meant relying on a local population to provide substandard scraps. “Think of it this way, babe - ‘least their tech is more advanced than ours,” He joked. It was true, of course, ‘cause The Sigma, though heavily modified, was still older than scrap. Judging by Prowl’s doorwing twitch, however (and by the distant disappointment leaking through their spark bond), he was less than amused. He rested a hand on Prowl’s shoulder for comfort, before turning his attention to Ratchet to get a good, proper look at him: definitely older than the last time they’d seen each other, and looking tired but in good spirits.

“Elite Guard, huh?” His visored gaze finally settled on Smokescreen, and it only took him a moment or two of observing his posture and overall demeanour to get a first impression; the bot was young, and looked a bit suspicious of his bondmate, but ultimately was friendly and outgoing. He also had the air of a bot who’d planned on doing other things today, but probably had been told ‘no’ by a certain resident medic. Jazz took his offered hand with a small laugh. “Good t’meet ya, Smokescreen!. I meant what I said before, though - I expect a party an’ I’m gonna be holdin’ you to that promise.”

Despite this being Prime’s main base on this planet, it seemed unusually quiet. Jazz glanced around, noting the signs that the space had at least been lived in extensively, and figured that it couldn’t just be Ratchet and Smokescreen around. “So where’s the rest of th’ gang? Who’s made it here so far?”

[Deleted]

Prowl gave a low hum. Jazz did have a point there. But their ship was a means to get around and join the rest of their comrades. No matter how fond they had grown of that pile of garbage, they were aware that eventually they would have to leave her behind. The Sigma wasn’t even supposed to have remained their spacecraft for so long, but it had proved to be a reliable piece of hardware the way only old technology was, and so they had upgraded and maintained her as well as they could.

Which seemed to be the same thing the Prime’s Team was doing. Prowl couldn’t disapprove of their scraps since it would be hypocritical, but he would have a few words with Optimus about it. All in due time, however. For now, there were other things to do. He shook Smokescreen’s hand without comment, then walked over to Ratchet and offered up a small dataslug.

“Our medical records,” Prowl murmured. “Or a rudimentary list of what our frames have been through since we split up, at least.” He glanced at Jazz, thankful that his partner had voiced the question that had been buzzing around his head.

[Deleted]

((Reversing Smokescreen and Ratchet's posting orders in order to make it flow better between the two of them))

While he had his own judgments about Prowl, it wasn't to say that he was suspicious of him or anything. Someone who was so obsessed with how things were around here, the stories he'd heard of how much of a rule fanatic he was that it only made him see the mech as a stiff that was in dire need of loosening up. Fun! Fun was a thing that was meant to be had, and it was guys like Prowl, or so he had heard anyway, that sucked the joy out of everything. But who was to say? Perhaps the stories weren't as bad as they said.

"Yep. Trained with the Elite Guard.. only to do actual guard duty instead of jumping into the battle field to kick some Decepticon skid plates. I mean, not to disrespect Alpha Trion or anything, but ya know how it is." Smokescreen shrugged, a large smirk growing on his face as Jazz held out a hand. He wasted absolutely no time grabbing the older mech's hand, shaking it eagerly. "Oh you know it. Think I'll let you and Prowl get used to this place first, but then? Then we're gonna have that party, and it's gonna be wild!"

The younger mech watched as Prowl handed things over to Ratchet, but his attention returned to Jazz. Where was everyone else? Uhh..

"Well, uh.. I know there's Optimus Prime, and Arcee. Bulkhead? Umm.. Oh! Wheeljack. He's here too." Ratchet, assistance may be required. He knew more about the going ons of this place than he did.

[Ratchet]

Prowl being even the least bit accepting of their base was a miracle, especially with the limited resources they'd had to deal with. Ratchet had never been too happy about the situation, and was more than pleased to hear that it had passed, even if by a small margin, the standards of the police officer. Ratchet let out a small smile, nearly microscopic if one could call it that.

"Oh, no you don't. There won't be any parties here, Smokescreen, and you know it. We are at war. We don't have time for such.. such frivolities." This coming from the mech that refused to leave his work alone, even during his down time. Being the only medic on base made it seem as if it were an obligation to him. If only Pharma were here.. Or anyone else.

The elder mech turned to Prowl, taking the dataslug from him. He studied it for a moment, taking note of Prowl's words. "Thank you. I will analyze this later on, and we can arrange a check-up as soon as possible for the both of you. I appreciate you keeping records for me. It will make my job much easier."

And then the big question came out of Jazz. Who all was here, and where were they all. It was all too evident that Smokescreen didn't have the answers. How could have? The boy was in stasis for the entire time. "The only ones here at the moment are the ones he mentioned, as well as.. one other. Cliffjumper.. had been with us, but sadly, I must tell you that he is no longer with us. May he rest in the Well of Allsparks.." At least, he'd remembered Cliffjumper dying, anyway. "But to answer your other questions, they are all out on patrol, while Bumblebee is in Crown City with another group of Autobots. There was a prison ship that crash landed, and many Decepticon prisoners escaped. He and his team are doing their best to recapture them all." Primus he hoped Strongarm was alright with them..