Carry The One

Loose Cannons

The intercom rang with the sound of an incoming message.

"Oh God, please-"

"Prime!" I sagged my head to my hands, resting my elbows on my knees gently. Optimus shot me an amused glance before he turned to the monitor, Agent Fowler's face showing in the corner. "What in blazers are your people doing out here?! We had an agreement: no collateral damage!"

I looked at the screen curiously as Optimus rumbled his response. "I am sorry Agent Fowler, but all autobots are present and accounted for.." the four in question gathering around the mech to glare at the screen.

"Impossible!"

"Roll call," I cheered, leaning back to peer around Optimus' helm.

"Bulkhead,"

Bumblebee buzzed while Ratchet groaned, ignoring my request.

"Arcee,"

The room was silent while I waited.

"Optimus Prime,"

"All five of 'em, sir," I mockingly saluted the man on the screen, sitting back up. "Now if you'll excuse me -"

"Then explain why I'm receiving reports of two jumbo - sized bots mixing it up 20 miles outside Omaha."

"Decepticons?" Ratchet offered.

"There has been plenty of infighting lately..." Arcee added.

"Megatron can't seem to keep his ranks in line," I chuckled lightly, shooting Optimus an amused grin.

"Well, I'm just arriving at the scene."

The camera flipped, showing a smoking spaceship looking thing crashed on the ground, a blue looking Cybertronian taking cover behind it.

"I don't know..." Bulkhead said as we all studied the image. "Paint job beside it can't be Skyquake." he turned to Bee. "You and Optimus pummeled him into the ground."

"Before Screamer yanked him out as a zombie," I reminded him.

"The question still stands," Arcee called out. "Who's the dance partner?"

The camera traveled forward a few feet, before focusing in on another crashed space ship thing. Crouching behind it, was a familiar white bot.

"Well, I'll be," I stated, falling back onto Optimus' neck. "It is one of us!"

"Wheeljack," Bulkhead observed, before he broke into a pit of laughter. "Jackie's back!" he cheered, clapping Bumblebee on the shoulder.

"I don't care if Abraham Lincoln's back!" Fowler angrily interrupted any more signs of celebration. "We have to contain this situation before we all wind up on the 11:00 news!"

"Autobots," my bot called. "Prepare to roll out!"

He held a hand up to me, which I ignored, throwing my one arm on top of the other. My left arm being broken again, was now in a sling. Not because I needed one --  the cast barely reached my elbow -- but in case I did "something stupid." Psh, whatever.

"Carabelle,"

"Optimus," I chirped, pecking him on the smooth metals of his cheek.

I smiled at him broadly, before he brought his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're just going to follow through that bridge anyway, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because," I put my hand on my hip. "I haven't had the honor of properly meeting Wheeljack. Do you remember that day?"