raisedbymoogles | Mythbusters Season Nine Interlude: The Autobot Special

This is all (lj)drharper's fault.

She threw this bunny at me, several years (and Mythbusters seasons) ago, and relentlessly encouraged me through bouts of writer's block since then, mostly via the time-honored method of flinging more bunnies. Now, with a new season drawing nigh upon us, the time has come. The time... to reveal my finest work.

I used betas, people. Two of them. ( (lj)drharper and (ij)deepbluesquee, thank you, and I'm sorry.)

Mythbusters Season Nine Interlude: The Autobot Special
Rating: PG, mild violence
Fandom: Transformers G1/Mythbusters
Summary: What happens when the Mythbusters film an episode at Autobot Headquarters? Mayhem, chaos, and hilarity, of course! Humans and Autobots compete for the title of Most Reckless Species, the Decepticons attempt to ruin everyone's fun, and I play fast and loose with the fourth wall. Also, Red Alert will be getting a well-deserved vacation after this.

Adam peered into the camera. "Don't try anything you're about to see at home."

His head partially obscured the camera's view of his partner, whose mustache bristled in annoyance. "Ever," he snapped out.

Behind them, a shiny red Lamborghini rolled into view, close enough that the viewers could plainly see that there was no one in the driver's seat. The vehicle convulsed on the pavement, reared up and fractured, its parts swinging from hidden joints to fold into new configurations. The Autobot - for that was what his sigils proclaimed, for all the angle of his smirk suggested a more evil bent - knelt to grin directly into the camera's view, and both Adam and Jamie ducked back to make room for the impressive being.

"Trust me," Sideswipe proclaimed. "These guys are professional crazy people."

"It sounds," Optimus stated dubiously, tapping two fingers on the edge of his desk, "dangerous."

He was probably right, Spike decided, even as he waxed rhapsodic on all the safety procedures the Mythbusters were scrupulous in observing from his perch on Optimus's "outgoing mail" box. "It's not like they're amateurs, Optimus. Between them the two front guys - Jamie and Adam - they have over thirty years special effects experience. They know how to keep themselves safe, and besides, if you put something on television there's gotta be insurance involved and they'd never let them put anybody at risk."

Optimus glanced down skeptically over his mask. "That may be so, Spike, but certain individuals among the Autobots tend to add a factor of unpredictability to any proceeding. I am loath to involve them in any endeavor that may exacerbate this."

Which was a diplomatic way of saying that his troops were a bunch of overeager hooligans with the discipline of six-year-olds and the attention spans to match, Spike thought, but he wisely chose not to voice this aloud. "Well, I still think they - the Mythbusters and the Autobots - they could learn a lot from each other. And anyway, it's kinda a little late for - " Spike stopped.

Optimus narrowed his optics at the little human, a bit disturbed at the way he fidgeted and looked away. Then a light bulb clicked on in his cranial unit. "They're already here, aren't they."

Spike's silence was answer enough, and Optimus spared a moment to stare at the human in something approaching utter horror before shoving himself away from his desk and dashing for the entrance.

And yes, the Prime could haul aft, despite his considerable bulk - he was built to carry it, after all, and Ratchet made damn sure his hull and chassis were as balanced as a dancer's. Optimus ran with total economy of movement, not a wobble, not a twitch of wasted motion. At full speed, few Autobots could claim to surpass him. He just needed proper motivation.

Visions of carnage, explosions and mayhem tended to motivate him.

Mayhem aplenty greeted the Prime as he scrambled out the front entrance, and upon review it did seem as if something Guardian-sized and noisy had exploded all over the Autobots' front lawn. Carnage, thank whoever listened to Primes on this planet, seemed to be in short supply, but Optimus was certain it was only a matter of time. It always was.

For one thing, there was Sideswipe, talking animatedly into something Reflector-shaped that stood on three legs while a human - its operator, Optimus guessed - doubled over twitching in either helpless laughter or intense pain. Nearby was Bluestreak, sitting down with a human perched on his knee as natural as you please. The gunner's hands flitted through the air like smitten fliers as he described some complicated maneuver to his raptly-attentive audience - then, as Optimus watched, he flung his arms wide with a shout of "Kapow!"

The human - possibly female, judging by the long hair gathered up in a tie at the back of her head - yelped with laughter and clapped her hands, and Bluestreak laughed along with her. Watching them, Optimus very nearly relaxed.

He was rescued from such a horrible fate by a merry shout. "Hey, there's the man of the hour. Or mechanism - hey, Optimus Prime! Down here, come mug for the camera."

"I have no idea what that means," the Prime said faintly into the air, then looked for the source of the shout. A grinning human with thick glasses was waving him over, clearly beside himself with excitement. That in itself was not entirely unexpected. What was mildly worrying were the three cameras trained on the human.

Uncomfortably reminded of Decepticon sniper scopes, Optimus approached and politely knelt to speak to the human. "You are a Mythbuster, I am given to understand." Already the Autobot commander was forming a speech in his mind, one carefully constructed to make this human and his friends suddenly see the wisdom and prudence of going away.

"Adam Savage," the man grinned, tapping Optimus's proffered hand with his palm. Optimus withdrew his hand and took it on faith that the gesture was a friendly one. "Whatever horrible stories you've been told about me, they're all true. Except for the one about the jello, though it's probably only a matter of time."

"Ignore him," someone called from the back of a white van emblazoned with a blue-and-white logo - Discovery, his English-to-Autobot translator informed him. "It only encourages him if you give him attention." Adam pointedly didn't deny the accusation.

Optimus peered at the van's back end. "I am familiar with the type, Mister...?"

The speaker emerged, revealing himself to be another male with an impressive mustache and a round black bit of cloth attempting to eat his hairless head. "Jamie Hyneman," he offered, hauling another bit of equipment out after him. "Otherwise known as the common sense of this operation."

Then you would be the one to talk to, Optimus decided. "I appreciate your interest in us, Mr. Hyneman - "

"Jamie." The human dove back into the van, presumably for more equipment.

"Jamie, then. As I said, I appreciate - "

"Hold that thought. Actually, c'mere and hold this." Optimus complied before he could quite register moving, and found himself providing a workbench for the human as he did something arcane with a collection of wires.

"What is all this?" he ventured.

Jamie hardly glanced up. "Live feed."

Optimus started. "Uh-"

"And we're live," he announced, clicking the last two connectors in to place. "Adam, give them something big."

Adam laughed. "Dude, if you're looking for something big, you can't get much bigger than Optimus Prime." He pointed dramatically, and at least three cameras were turned by their operators to train on the wrongfooted Autobot in a dramatic sweep.

"...Er," he offered intelligently.

Jamie turned to address a fourth camera, one mounted on a stationary frame. "The leader of the Autobots has generously donated use of his facilities for this special episode of Mythbusters, in the spirit of cooperation and trust between Autobot and human."

"And explosions," Adam put in cheerfully.

Jamie shot a Look at him, worryingly in tandem with Optimus Prime's own bewildered glare. "Explosions under carefully controlled, meticulously monitored conditions. Speaking of which, you were about to say something, Prime?"

"Um-" Optimus struggled to remember his speech. That was it - "I deeply appreciate your interest in us, Mr. Hyneman, Mr. Savage..."

He trailed off. The cameras stared at him, unblinking, unwavering.

"...And I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to our headquarters."

He was such a pushover.

"So he actually fell for the fake live feed thing?" Spike demanded, face flushed with barely-suppressed laughter.

"Hook, line and sinker," Jamie affirmed proudly. "All I did was dump a battery in his hand and point a camera at him, and he was mine. I told you, you can get people to do anything if you tell them you're filming."

Spike snickered. "Do us all a favor and keep it under your beret? I'd hate to see what the Decepticons could do with this knowledge, and one of them is a camera."

"Will do."

"Oh, Wheeljack..."

"Just a second!" Wheeljack called, never taking his attention away from the test tube. "A little more, come on, turn blue for me..." He nudged the heat source underneath the tube, giving it another half-degree of power. The liquid obediently began to bubble and take on a blueish tint.

"Yes...!" Wheeljack breathed.

Wheeljack's new compound turned gloriously blue for all of half a second, then rushed headlong into purple before collapsing in a noxious black ash. "Agh!" Wheeljack complained, thudding his forehead against his worktable.

" 'Jack, buddy, chemistry is not your gift." His visitor chuckled kindly from the doorway.

"And comfort isn't yours, Ratchet," the engineer grumbled. "Go away and let me sulk for a while, would you?"

"No can do," Ratchet cackled, slinging an arm over his friend's shoulders. "Besides, I got something that'll cheer you right up." He gently tugged his friend away from the table and its still-smoldering failure. "Come on, we've got guests."

Wheeljack grumbled, optics dark. "I don't want to talk to any reporters right now."

"Not reporters, doofus."

At the tone in his friend's voice, anticipatory and entirely too pleased with himself, Wheeljack glanced up. "You didn't," he accused.

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" the medic replied airily.

Wheeljack goggled at him for a moment. Then he slipped out from under Ratchet's arm and dashed from the room. Ratchet leaned against Wheeljack's worktable, grinning, and counted silently in his head. One, two, three-

"Oh my Primus!" came the delighted scream from the hallway. Ratchet started to laugh as Wheeljack skidded back into the room, Adam and Grant clinging for dear life to his shoulders. "Ratch, you are amazing! I so owe you."

"Yeah, I know." Ratchet folded his hands behind his head. "You can pay me back later. I've got a few shifts you can have."

"You got it," Wheeljack burbled, gently scruffling Grant's hair with his fingertips.

Ratchet was savoring the expression on the human's face - wavering between annoyed and pleased - when something tapped his ankle. "You must be Ratchet - the guy that orchestrated all this."

Ratchet glanced down. "That's me. Nice to finally meet you in person, Jamie."

"Likewise. Is he always this excitable?" Jamie nodded at Wheeljack, who was currently attempting to outdo Bluestreak's record in mile-a-minute babbling.

"Only when there's explosions in his immediate future," Ratchet sighed. "Hey, 'Jack! Give the natives some breathing room, would you?"

Wheeljack paused mid-word to give his friend a wounded look, but his protest was headed off by an ecstatic shriek. "Jamie! This place is like Christmas!" Adam announced, looking ready to bounce off the walls. "Look at all this explosive stuff!"

Jamie sighed. "Gonna be an interesting shoot."

"Prime, I really must protest-"

"Now, Red..."

"-seen the kinds of things they do on that - that spectacle they call educational programming?"

"...may be a bit irregular, but..."

"...blew up a cement truck! For no reason!"

"Would it be a bad time to point out 'it would be cool' tends to be plenty of reason for half the stuff our boys get up to around here?"

Optimus Prime and Red Alert quit arguing for a second to fix twin glares on Jazz, with Prowl and Ironhide joining in just for good measure. "Just sayin'," the Special Ops officer said, raising his hands in surrender.

Nothing stopped Red Alert for long, however. "That is precisely the reason," he rapped out, pointing an accusatory finger at Jazz, "that this madness cannot be allowed to continue any further. Can you imagine the kind of damage these humans could cause, backed up by the Autobots' criminal element?"

Personally, Jazz thought "criminal element" was taking it a bit far, but judging by the expressions on his fellow senior staffers' faces, they could imagine the damage all too well. "Look," he attempted. "It's too late to back out now. Prime already let 'em in."

"Thanks," their leader muttered.

Jazz gave him a cherubic smile. "The point is, say what you will about humans, it's never a good idea to dismiss 'em right off. Why don't we let 'em do their thing? If it's a problem, we'll know in a hurry."

"When Megatron is dismantling us," Red Alert predicted gloomily.

"Nah. If something goes wrong, there won't be enough left of us for Megatron," Jazz chirped, and immediately ducked out of the way of Ironhide's retaliatory swat.

Red Alert flung his hands in the air. "Fine. Fine! Let them do their 'thing,' as you put it. But when we're in several pieces, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Yes, yes, I'm gorgeous. You may all bask in my glory."

"Keep dreaming, you yellow nightmare. They're clearly dazzled by me."

"Blow it out your exhaust, you red-faced pouf."

As the cameras circled like eager sharks, Jamie shot a blank glance at Spike. "Do they do this often?"

"Welcome to my world." Spike offered a grin. "Though they probably wouldn't be nearly so insufferable if it wasn't for all the attention."

"Good point." Jamie turned back to watch, with an air of unruffled bemusement, as Grant and Tory all but drooled over Sunstreaker and Tracks. The camera operators were no better, jockeying for position under the harsh, orange-tinted lights of Autobot Headquarters for the best shots. "Still," Jamie said thoughtfully, "this ought to be good for web-exclusive content if nothing else."

"Get ready to get your bandwidth overloaded," Spike advised.

"Why, do they have a fan base?"

Spike snickered. "Jamie, they are their fan base."

"Ah." Jamie nodded in understanding, but before he could say any more, the Autobots' command element trooped into the room, led by Optimus Prime and to the last man - mech, rather - wearing expressions of dour resignation.

"Now that we're all assembled," the Prime announced, and at the sound of his voice even Sunstreaker and Tracks shut up; the Mythbusters crew, taking their cue from their hosts, quit poking at things and at least made a show of paying attention. "As some of you may be aware, our guests are here to film an educational program. I've already promised our full cooperation - within the bounds of normal security concerns," he added before Red Alert could do more than open his mouth. The Prime offered an apologetic glance before continuing. "Barring that, we will offer any assistance necessary for our guests' work. Any questions?"

"Can I help?" The voice belonged to Bluestreak, bouncing to be seen over the shoulders of Hoist and Sunstreaker. "I've seen your show, I'm a huge fan, if there's any myths involving ordinance - mph." With his customary directness, Sunstreaker had turned and clapped a hand over Bluestreak's mouth.

Optimus had to chuckle a little at that. "I'm sure we'll all get our chance to assist," he offered as Adam grinned at their flailing fan. "Speaking of which," the Prime continued, turning to the senior Mythbusters, "why don't you tell us about the myths you'll be testing?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Jamie stepped forward to address not only the Prime but all the Autobots, and the cameras as well. "We actually have three myths, submitted by our faithful audience, that we'd like to test, and we're ready to start the first one right away."

"Oh no," someone muttered.

Jamie ignored that like a professional. "Unsurprisingly, we get a lot of questions about how the abilities of Autobots stack up to humans - overall intelligence, reaction time, that sort of thing. So our first two myths will pit your best against ours. Specifically, there's a story making the rounds on our website about a Japanese robotics engineer who was able to build a robot that actually rivaled Autobot capabilities."

"Therefore," Adam interrupted, "the Mythbusters challenges your best scientists to an epic build-off!"

The room fell relatively silent; Jamie shot his partner a look. Optimus was groping for a way to talk the humans out of it when Ratchet and Wheeljack chorused "Accepted!"

"And prepare to get your afts handed to you," Ratchet added, grinning like a maniac. Wheeljack, his sidelights bright with giddy glee, could only nod in agreement.

Beside Optimus, Ironhide groaned. "Prime, permission to transfer to - I dunno, Mars or somewhere. Mars is the one just behind the asteroid belt, right?"

"Jupiter," his Prime informed him, "and request denied. If I have to suffer through this, so do you."

Ironhide subsided with a sulky grumble, and the camera operator that caught the exchange swung back around to Jamie. "We'll discuss the terms later," the mustached man was saying. "In the meantime, our build team has their own challenge to issue. Grant?"

Beaming, Grant took the cameras' center stage. "This myth actually comes from an email sent to us by a member of Portland's Highway Patrol." He whipped a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it with a flourish. "Dear Mythbusters," he read, "greetings from the Highway Patrol Division of the Portland City Police, we all love your show, yadda yadda... It may surprise you to learn that we have a bit of a robot problem - no, not Decepticons, but Autobots who insist on breaking the speed limit." There was a general outcry among the Autobots - mingled aghast denial and ruffian pride - before Optimus waved them to silence again. "We're well aware that the Autobots can wring more speed out of their fancy alien forms than we can out of our inferior Earth vehicles," Grant continued, the beginnings of a manic grin showing on his face, "but! When it comes to driving skill, we of the Highway Patrol admit no equal. Therefore, we request that you bust the myth that Autobots are better drivers than humans. If anyone can do it, you can." Grin in full force, Grant snapped the paper closed again. "So that's our challenge - given equivalent technology, who's the better driver?"

Sunstreaker snorted, still keeping a wriggling Bluestreak in his headlock. "You've got to be kidding. You pipsqueaks really think you can beat us?"

Grant arched an eyebrow. "Is that a volunteer we detect?"

"What? No!"

"Actually," Ratchet broke in, a wicked grin stretching across his face, "you'd be perfect, Sunstreaker. I mean," he added as Sunstreaker stared at him in horror, "the myth says 'equivalent technology,' right? And you don't get much more equivalent than twins!"

Sideswipe lit up. "Hey - yeah! Great idea, Doc! C'mon, bro, you know you want to."

"I - most - certainly do not!" Sunstreaker spluttered, losing his grip on Bluestreak, who quickly scampered out of the blast radius. A Sunstreaker with his delicate sensibilities offended was not a safe Sunstreaker to be around.

Especially when his brother was involved. "Aww, what's the matter, Sunny?" Sideswipe teased, leaning on his twin's shoulder. "Think you can't beat me even when there's a human at my wheel?"

That did it. "You slimy little scrag!" Sunstreaker shot upright, shoving his brother away. "I can beat you with a human at my wheel!"

His anger crumbled as he realized what he'd just said. "Yeah, bro?" Sideswipe snickered. "Put up or shut up."

Grant exchanged grins with his team. "And that's our volunteers. Now all we need is a course."

"And we need a workshop," Jamie put in. "Preferably someplace far away from anything important that might be prone to suffering from Death By Adam." Adam made a token attempt to look offended by that before favoring his partner with a megawatt beam.

And so the Mythbusters got to work...

"This," Adam said for the fifth time, "is so cool."

The fact that he had his head stuck in Teletraan-1's console muffled his words a bit, though the mike he was wearing would ensure that the camera would record it just fine. "Look at all this," he breathed admiringly, shining a penlight into the supercomputers' inner workings. "A computer like this would take up an entire building if humans built it."

Trailbreaker, infinitely patient, sat lotus nearby, watching Adam and his camera-wielding follower with amusement. "Teletraan-1 was developed specifically for the Ark mission," he explained. "It's the most advanced supercomputer ever built, even nine million years after its activation."

"Even compared to you guys?" Adam asked, peeking out of the access hatch.

"Oh, yes," Trailbreaker nodded. "In terms of memory and processing speed, Teletraan-1 far outstrips us. It even has a rudimentary personality module, so it can self-determine things like threats to itself or the Autobots."

"Wow. You guys don't mess around when you build your stuff." Adam stuck his head back in Teletraan's innards, glowing with what might be termed 'scientific inquiry' if one had recently suffered a heavy blow to the head.

Conversationally, he added, "So, how do you know Teletraan isn't as sentient as you guys?"

Trailbreaker, fortunately, found it easy to keep a straight face when most of it was covered behind a battle mask. "It has yet to tell a decent dirty joke." Adam laughed so hard he clonked his head on the door.

And so the Mythbusters got to work...

"Aaaaah!"

Another expensive camera was spattered with mud as Kari slid sideways down Sludge's tail into the near-permanent mud puddle outside the Ark. "That was so cool!" she yelped, scrambling out of the muck. "Jamie, you have to try this!"

"I don't think so," Jamie demurred, leaning casually against Snarl's side. "I doubt the Autobots would appreciate us tracking mud in their nice shiny headquarters."

"Oh, come on..." Kari pouted theatrically, then a wicked grin stole across her face. "Oh, Grimlock..." she singsonged.

Jamie spluttered as Grimlock plucked him off the ground in one claw and plopped him sidesaddle on Sludge's back. He started sliding almost immediately, tipped over as he went and hit the mud in a perfect faceplant. Kari shrieked in evil glee as the older man picked himself up, covered in mud from head to toe.

His beret was in pristine condition.

And so the Mythbusters got to work...

"So... this is where the magic happens?"

"I would hardly call it 'magic,' " Grapple demurred, though he was clearly susceptible to Grant's flattery. "But yes, this is where the bulk of my work is done." He deposited Grant and Tory on the main worktable, where the only clear space was surrounded by tools and supplies that, aside from scale, were mostly familiar to the two humans. "Supplies from Cybertron are rare, so much of what we need we must fabricate ourselves. Luckily, enough of your world's governments are kindly-disposed toward us that raw material is not hard to come by. Er, please be careful with-"

Typically, Tory wasn't listening. "Yeow!" he yelped, jerking his hand back from the metal spike. "What was that, a giant taser?"

"It's a polarizer," Grapple sighed, moving to take it off the table. "My apologies, I thought I had turned all of my equipment off..."

"No, wait." Tory waved him down. "That was like a shot of Red Bull to the heart. Grant, you try it."

"What?" Grant made a face. "I'm not touching that."

"Dude, I dare you to touch it."

Grapple sensed that the situation was slipping out of his control. "I really must protest," he said, but Grant was succumbing to Tory's goading and reaching out to touch the electric prong.

"Ouch!"

"Hah!"

"Okay, tough guy, touch it for two seconds. Let's go."

As Tory hitched up his sleeve, Grapple groaned and thumped his head on the table.

And so the Mythbusters got to work...

"Hey, guys?" Jamie glanced up from his study of Perceptor's shrinking machine. "This is fun and all, but maybe we should get to work."

"Spoilsport," Adam groaned, but he helped shoo the others out.

While Adam bent over a table in the background, Jamie addressed the camera. "Because supplies are limited at Autobot Headquarters, the science team and we have agreed on a Rube Goldberg challenge. We'll use whatever's lying around to transfer energy from point A to point B, and whoever does it with the most creativity and the least false tries will be the winner."

"I dunno, Jamie," Adam called, and the camera operator refocused on him. "I still think this isn't a fair contest. Nobody does better Rubes than us."

"So you're calling this myth as busted?" Jamie's mustache effectively hid the smile evident in his voice.

"I'll bet you it is," Adam looked up and grinned. "If we win, you buy dinner for the whole crew. If we lose, I buy."

"And in this scenario, where is my motivation to do my best?"

"Uh... upholding the honor of our species?"

"Right." Jamie snorted. "Anyway, no matter who wins, I have a feeling they'll surprise us. So what've you got?"

"Check this out." Adam waved Jamie over, and the camera followed them both as they bent their heads over the blueprints.

"Sideswipe, over here!"

Sideswipe happily dumped his patrol partner (Brawn, for his part, didn't seem too broken up about this) and drove over to where Kari was perched on what remained of a rusted-out Chrysler. "Hey," he greeted her. "What's all this?"

'All this' was a seemingly random hodgepodge of scrap metal and old cars, scattered across a little-used access road leading to the Ark. "Meet the obstacle course!" Kari declared proudly. "Well, most of it, anyway. Tory helped build it, so it's only fair you get a look at it too."

Sideswipe whistled, visibly impressed. "You guys work fast. So it's an obstacle drive, huh?" He didn't seem at all dismayed by the prospect.

"Well, we want to do some time trials too, but the obstacle course is the bulk of the myth." Kari grinned and slid down from her perch. "Just keep in mind that this won't be the final product. Grant and I are working on a few surprises that neither you nor Tory will know about."

Almost automatically, Sideswipe glanced around for the camera. "Fine by me," he shrugged. "That'll make it interesting. I still can't believe Sunny's going along with this, you know." He finally spotted the camera, perched jauntily overhead on what looked like a Tower of Death gone wrong. "Then again, if he loses, it won't be nearly as humiliating as if I lose," he added, speaking clearly for its benefit.

Kari leaned back casually. "So you predict you'll win?"

"Sorry, but human processing speed just isn't gonna keep up with me," Sideswipe smirked down at her. "No offense."

"None taken," Kari said with an airy wave of her hand; but her smirk rivaled Sideswipe's for smugness.

Red Alert had all but locked himself in the monitor room after the Rube Goldberg challengers got started, which was probably best for all concerned. He did not give up his constant surveillance of the Ark's visitors, however. Currently he was tracking Jamie as he thumbed through a worn notebook in the south barracks hallway. An amateur in his position probably would have been monitoring Adam, or the three younger ones. Red Alert knew better. Humans like them were cast from the same mold as Sideswipe and his ilk: when they were up to something, they broadcasted it. They always gave themselves away sooner or later. It was the ones who seemed quietest, the smart ones, that you had to watch the closest.

That was why Red Alert was a professional.

"Oh-nine-thirty-eight hours," he told his personal audio recorder absently, optics fixed on Jamie's image on the main screen. "Subject designated Mythbuster Prime is reviewing plans in sector nine, subsector V-Epsilon. Plans are being recorded, and evidence no direct threat to Autobot safety as of yet. Observation continuing."

So saying, Red Alert set his recorder aside and settled in, elbows on his control console, to watch Jamie's progress. Jamie had his back to the security camera, scratching in his notebook with a pencil, and Red Alert frowned and changed the angle so he could see what the human's hands were doing.

Jamie was doodling something - nothing too dangerous that Red Alert could see, yet. Behind Jamie, half-hidden by an air grate, a pair of red eyes glowed narrowly.

Red Alert's threat-priority software kicked into gear and he forgot all about the mayhem the Mythbusters threatened. His hand hovered over the alarm button, then withdrew: no sense in alerting the intruder until Jamie was out of danger. Instead, he activated a secure commline to the Autobots' command element.

"Red Alert reporting," he whispered, even though he was almost certain the Decepticon couldn't hear him. "Ravage spotted in sector nine, subsector V-Eps. One civilian on the premises. Operation: disable and capture. This is a priority alert, repeat, a priority alert."

"Hey, Jamie?"

Jamie glanced up. "Hello, Ironhide. Am I in the way?"

Ironhide shook his head slowly, and Jamie got a bit of an inkling that Something Was Wrong. He was no fighter himself, but he knew enough of martial arts to be able to read Ironhide's body language. The Autobot's stance was balanced and solid, his arms deceptively loose and relaxed by his side. "Couldja come over here a klick?" the old warhorse drawled.

Jamie quietly strangled the part of his brain that was chanting ohcrap ohcrap ohcrap and walked toward Ironhide. Slowly.

When he was close enough, Ironhide stooped, scooped him up in one hand, and lifted a massive white gun in the other hand. Jamie had enough time to grab onto the Autobot's thumb before Ironhide fired at the grate he'd been standing beside; then everything started happening very fast.

A burst of blue lighting crackled over the vent grate, accompanied by a feline yowl; Ironhide aimed his sidearm just as a slinky-dark shape burst its way free of the shaft. Ironhide fired twice, but the creature was already moving and avoided the bright orange blasts.

"Slag," Ironhide swore, and took off after the invader. Jamie wrapped one arm around the Autobot's thumb and held on for dear life, beret flopping over his brow.

"What's that?" he demanded.

"Ravage," was Ironhide's terse reply. "A 'Con spy."

"That's Ravage?" Jamie looked back at their quarry, one leap ahead of Ironhide. Ravage turned a corner into a flurry of laser blasts; the catlike Decepticon actually ran along the wall to avoid them, leaving deep punctures in the metal with his claws.

"Slag!" Ironhide skidded to a halt just shy of the corner, not wanting to get shot by his own comrades. Shouts and curses echoed down the hall, following Ravage's retreat.

"He'll be back," Ironhide muttered, setting Jamie down. "He always is."

Jamie adjusted his beret thoughtfully. "Well, in that case, do you think we could borrow him?"

"Wha?"

"Well, there's this myth we want to do..."

Optimus Prime had a system for when his officers were in conflict over a particular course of action. He reviewed the facts of the case as thoroughly as he could; he solicited the opinions and recommendations of all involved parties. He deliberated over the relative merits of each option, for both the immediate goal and for the well-being of the Autobots in the long term. Then he invited his conflicting officers to his office to present their cases.

"Red Alert," Ratchet offered magnanimously, "you outrank me. You go first."

To his credit, Red Alert was not wrongfooted in the slightest by Ratchet's unexpected politeness. "I shall," he sniffed, drawing himself up to his full height. "Prime, I hardly think this is a difficult decision. When an enemy has attempted to breach your security - indeed, has succeeded - the logical response is not to open our doors and invite him in for a second try! We tighten our sensor net, recharge our emplacement cannons and do our best to repel the invasion!" He cast a withering glare at Ratchet. "Allowances in the name of diplomacy are all well and good, but I cannot condone this - this - madness!"

"Madness?" came Adam's voice from out in the hall. "This! Is! SCIEN-mmph!"

The interruption was mercifully muffled, and Optimus let it pass without comment. "Very well," he said, "thank you, Red Alert." He nodded to Ratchet, granting him permission to speak his peace.

Ratchet's dissertation was short. "It'll be a chance to really stick it to Megatron."

Optimus's decision was easy after that; though Red Alert's screaming was loud enough be heard all over the Ark, the Mythbusters team considered it worth it when Ratchet emerged and gave them a wicked grin and a thumbs up.

It has often been said that Mythbusters put their bodies on the line for science. Nevertheless, it was to the delight of Tory and Grant (not to mention that of their crack insurance team) that both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were equipped with five-point safety harnesses in both front seats. "Wouldn't want to launch some human damsel in distress through my windshield," Sideswipe explained with a jaunty flash of his headlights. "Those things are a pain to replace."

"My skull and I thank you," Tory said with a roll of his eyes as he swung into Sunstreaker's driver's seat and gratefully cranked the air conditioning. It was a sweltering afternoon, heat-shimmer off the asphalt making the horizon dance and waver, and on the long stretch of empty road leading to the Autobots' base there was no shelter from the sun.

Carly joined Tory on the passenger's side with a handheld camcorder and a commiserating grin; Grant and Spike, the latter with a camera of his own, entered Sideswipe's passenger chamber. "Thought I was the human-free racer," Sideswipe grumbled.

"We're just payload," Grant assured him with a pat on his dashboard. "Sunstreaker gets two humans, so you get two humans. I won't touch your pedals or steering wheel."

"Go ahead, they're not attached to my motor relays," Sideswipe answered, mollified. "But if you void your tanks on my upholstery, you're getting drop-kicked."

"Okay, Sunstreaker," Spike chuckled.

"Ouch." Sideswipe laughed, not at all insulted, as he and Sunstreaker edged up to the chalk starting line. Before them stretched nearly a half-mile of empty blacktop, inviting as a lover.

"This is Human versus Autobot Driver, speed trial one," Kari announced for the benefit of the Discovery cameras, holding aloft a green T-shirt in lieu of a flag. "On your mark - get set - " She dropped the flag, and the moment it touched asphalt the two Lamborghinis were off and running.

"Faster, faster, faster," Sunstreaker chanted, his relays itching to take control back from Tory. His twin pulled ahead with a whoop, flashing his taillights.

"Got a little old lady driver?" Sideswipe taunted. Tory and Sunstreaker growled in unison. Carly yelped as man and car surged forward, overtaking Sideswipe. The twins traded the lead, sometimes only by the width of a bumper, and only dimly registered it when the finish line flashed under their tires.

Kari waved the checkered flag, actually a striped shirt of Carly's, and cheered as Sideswipe skidded into a 180-degree turn and popped his doors wide open. Sunstreaker, under Tory's control, was slower to stop. When he and Carly emerged from Sunstreaker's cab, Sideswipe was already transformed and welcoming them with a rakish grin. "You're not bad, kid," he conceded with a salute. "You almost had me thinking I'd have to kick into high gear."

Tory scoffed. "So we won because you let us win?"

"Uh, excuse me? I think I won that race, squishy."

"You so did not," Sunstreaker argued, transforming to glare at his brother more effectively. "We had at least half a bumper on you."

"Pull the other fin, slag mouth!"

"Guys?" Carly singsonged. "Three words - high-speed camera?"

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker glanced at each other, grinning, and raced for the camera set up at the finish line. The four humans were left in the dust behind them. "Four more time trials," Spike groaned.

"I wanna go again," Tory declared with an Adam-worthy grin. "Driving an Autobot is so cool!"

"Don't get used to it!" Sunstreaker's voice floated back to them, and the humans broke up laughing.

Hoist did understand, on an intellectual level, why organizing the storage rooms was considered punishment duty among the rank and file. It was a solitary job, surrounded by the uninteresting minutiae of mechanical repair and optimization: rivets, bolts, screws, blank circuits and so on. It was far from the rec rooms and command center, where most of the activity in the Ark took place. The rooms were too far into the volcano to even get a decent connection to the Ark's wi-fi.

Nevertheless, if the command element ever wanted to punish Hoist, they would have to find another way. Hoist enjoyed organizing things; it was meditative.

Granted, it wasn't quite so meditative when the storage room kept being invaded.

"Hey, Hoist, sorry to bother you," Bluestreak announced breathlessly as he bustled in, "but I've got a list of materials Jamie and Adam need for their Ruby Goldburger or whatever-"

"Rube Goldberg."

"Right," Bluestreak said determinedly, "and some of it I can find lying around the base, which I think is kind of the point, you have to build it out of whatever weird stuff you've got lying around, but some of it is stuff like scrap metal and screws and things and we've got plenty of that here." Mercifully, he paused a moment- where a human would have taken a breath, and Hoist thanked Primus that human speech patterns were rubbing off on the gunner.

"I don't mind helping," he said before Bluestreak could start up again. "What do you need?"

Bluestreak started counting off on his fingers. "A coil of copper wire, a handful of screws and bolts - I don't know if he meant an Autobot handful or a human handful, better make it an Autobot handful just to be safe - um, some straight lengths of scrap metal if we have it, any old tools we've got lying around that we don't need - I know we've got a drawerful of stuff that hasn't been fixed yet, right Hoist?"

"Anything else?" Hoist said dryly, moving to the appropriate shelving unit.

"Oh, lots," Bluestreak laughed, "but Spike's making a trip to the hardware store for some of it. Duct tape, lightbulbs, stuff like that." He tilted his head to the side. "What do you think they're making, Hoist? I can't figure it out."

"I think we're going to find out soon enough - and it's going to be weird beyond imagining," Hoist predicted ominously, and waved Bluestreak aside so that First Aid could enter.

"Hey, Hoist," the young medic announced breathlessly, "Ratchet sent me. Do you still have that rubber ducky in here?"

"Weird beyond imagining," Bluestreak repeated with a grin, and Hoist put his hand to his face.

Wheeljack's bunker was located some five hundred yards from the Ark proper, a basement-level laboratory cut into the bedrock itself. It was here, rather than in the populated mountain base, that Wheeljack worked on his most dangerous plans. Missiles. Mines. Grenades.

Catching Ravage.

"So, how do we do this?" Adam asked, surveying the space. "Leave out free pizza and a neon sign that says 'Autobot Secrets Here'?" Around him, the Build Team chortled and Jamie rolled his eyes.

Wheeljack chuckled, making his headfins flash rhythmically like Christmas lights. "You leave that to us Autobots. The intelligence element is laying the trap as we speak." He puttered about clearing his worktable off, and the humans moved out of the way of his feet. "All we have to concentrate on," Wheeljack told them, "is getting Ravage where we want him when he gets here."

"How about a maze?" Kari suggested. "We could funnel him through different checkpoints and have different detection gear set up at each one."

"He's not a mouse," Jamie frowned. "If we put him in a maze, he'd probably just rip through the walls."

"Not really Ravage's style." Wheeljack leaned on the table, clasping his hands thoughtfully. "I think Kari's on the right track, but a maze is too simple. If we give him time to think, he'll get suspicious and leave."

Grant glanced at Tory; an idea flashed between them, making them both grin. "So," Grant mused aloud, "we need something that'll keep him focused on each goal in succession, 'til he gets the prize and we get our data."

Wheeljack nodded eagerly; Jamie crossed his arms. "What are you two thinking?"

Tory couldn't contain himself anymore. "Video games!" he declared. "We make a real-life video game. Like Metroid!" he clarified when Jamie's expression didn't change. "Or Mario!"

"Or Final Fantasy," Grant supplied.

"What?"

"Okay," Jamie waved his hands, "I'll let you two work out the details on this with Wheeljack. This is either going to be truly amazing or an utter disaster," he added in a mutter.

Adam grinned broadly. "Should be interesting to find out which."

Optimus paused, took two steps backward, and bent to peer at the square of paper taped to C Hallway's south wall. It seemed the Autobots had a mystery cartoonist.

The cartoon featured four figures: crude but eminently recognizable drawings of Ratchet, Wheeljack, Jamie, and Adam. Ratchet sported an Autobot-sized black beret flopping across his optic, while Wheeljack wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Jamie had a chevron like Ratchet's, apparently made of cardboard and tape, and crosses painted on his shoulders; Adam's trademark grin stretched beyond the confines of a Wheeljack-style mask.

Optimus glanced around, futilely searching for the tracks of the mad artist. All he saw was a single camera operator, who, as Optimus's gaze fell on him, angled his camera upward to peer at him enquiringly.

"At least morale is high," the Prime told the camera heavily, and moved on.

"So basically we're starting with the rigs we set up for our security system episode," Grant said, tapping at his no-particular-manufacturer computer, "with a few adjustments."

Kari leaned over his shoulder to see. "Like, motion sensors, heat sensors, fingerprint locks, that sort of thing?"

"Right, but with a few changes."

"Let me guess. Autobots don't have fingerprints?"

Grant laughed. "Well, the myth is that Ravage is undetectable by any kind of scanner. Fingerprint locks don't fall into that category. Speaking of which," he added, "what are you and Tory cooking up for the checkpoints?"

Kari flashed him an eager grin. "Check this out. We've got a series of locked gates like the ones Autobots use for the real high-security areas. We know for a fact that Ravage can't bust them down or hack them. But what we've done is to replace the high-security lock with a puzzle lock. When Ravage solves each puzzle, he gets access to the next area and a kind of key that he'll need to solve the next puzzle."

Grant lifted an eyebrow. "Sounds more Legend of Zelda than Mario to me."

Kari laughed. "Give me a couple hours and I'll have all the puzzle locks making that victory noise from the Zelda games."

"Are you trying to get us in trouble for copyright infringement?"

Fire-retardant foam drifted into the hallway like snow; out of the haze Adam staggered, giddy and missing half an eyebrow. Wheeljack followed, waving a hand at the acrid smoke that issued from his own body. "Okay, that didn't work too well."

"Are you actually on fire?" Adam demanded in between fits of giggles.

"Nah, just scorched." Wheeljack shrugged, turned to one side, and... paused. "Oh," he said cautiously. "Hi, Ratchet."

"Hi, Ratchet!" Adam beamed, unaware or uncaring of the danger. "Hi, Jamie! We were just hashing out a few ideas."

"Yeah, I see that," Jamie answered, carefully stepping out of Ratchet's way. "What'd you find out?"

"That in a pinch, 'Jack makes a pretty good bunker."

Wheeljack winced. "Ratch, buddy, it wasn't like that..." He lifted his hands as the medic advanced. "No, really, no harm done! Just superficial damage on both of us-"

"You," Ratchet growled, "mute your Unmaker-slagged vocalizer before I mute it for you!" Wheeljack stopped talking so abruptly that his vocal modulator squeaked. " 'No harm done' my aft, you misfiring, misbegotten scrap heap, you're exhibiting at least three signs of structural damage and when I get my hands on you-!" The incensed medic took an ominous step forward. Wheeljack scrambled back and actually transformed into his car mode, groveling in his own way. Ratchet stalked up to him, grabbed his front bumper, and hauled the unresisting engineer away.

The two humans stood out of the way as Ratchet and his cargo passed. "You know," Adam said thoughtfully as the Autobots turned a corner, "the 'Bots keep talking about how Ratchet and Wheeljack are like you and me, but I honestly don't see the resemblance."

"You don't?" Jamie gave Adam a curious look.

"Yeah. You're not nearly that scary."

"Thanks, partner."

Ratchet's fury burned hot, but it also burned brief; by the end of the day, Wheeljack had bought his way back into his friend's good graces by unveiling his latest invention.

"Well? What do you think?"

"...I think somebody owes science an apology."

Wheeljack rubbed his hand behind his head. "It's supposed to be ugly," he explained feebly. "I broke all the rules of good engineering to make this."

"In that case, congratulations," Ratchet cackled, patting his friend's shoulder. "You've done a bangup job." He tilted his head at what his processor had already labeled 'The Space Coffeemaker From Hell' sitting on the medical berth. "So what's it do?"

Wheeljack hunched his shoulders. "Uh... do?"

Ratchet straightened and scowled. " 'Jack, you mean to tell me it doesn't even do anything?"

"Well, yeah," Wheeljack protested, "it does something, but - look, we don't wanna give the 'Cons anything actually useful, right? It'd kinda be like giving aid and comfort to the enemy."

"...'Jack."

Not even Wheeljack, Ratchet's longtime friend and sometime partner, was immune to that dangerous tone. "Umm," he hedged, flipping open a panel and flicking several switches. "Prepare to be underwhelmed."

Ratchet took a respectful step back as the Space Coffeemaker From Hell began to hum from deep within itself. Sections split apart and drifted upward, becoming a telescoping tower with slowly-rotating rings around each section. The very top flipped open and a crude, stubby-limbed effigy of Megatron rose into view.

"What the slag is that!" Ratchet opined.

"Wait for it..."

Midget Megatron started to wobble and spin, accompanied by a tinny recording of "Disco Inferno." Ratchet stared, slackjawed, while Wheeljack rubbed the back of his helm. "Aheh. Toldja it wasn't impressive."

Ratchet rebooted his optics twice, and fell over laughing. "You made a - I don't even know what it is, but it sings! Megatron's gonna slaggin' explode!"

Wheeljack (literally) lit up. "You think?"

"Yeah!" Ratchet clapped him on the shoulder. "When ol' buckethead sees this, he's gonna be so torqued off his head'll go FOOM right into the stratosphere!" He flung his hands up to demonstrate.

"Foom?" Wheeljack chuckled at the mental image: a little Megatron-head rocket riding a streak of flame and smoke, his face twisted in comic fury. "And then he'll come and take it out on us," Wheeljack pointed out, not sounding worried by the concept.

"Eh, what else is new." Ratchet cuffed him affectionately, jabbing like a boxer. "Come on, let's show Prime. Bet he laughs so hard he ruptures something."

Prowl stepped out into the molten-gold late afternoon sunshine and stretched out, servos and lines easing with a relieved groan of metal. He glanced around the peaceful scrublands that surrounded Wheeljack's bunker, not warily, simply watchful. Then he dialed his vocalizer volume up a few notches and spoke.

"I do sincerely hope that the Decepticons don't find out about our new weapon, which is being kept in Wheeljack's lab under several layers of security. The consequences for the Autobots if Megatron were to get his hands on it would be disastrous."

That done, he stepped back inside. Grant lowered the puzzle lock he'd been working on - the last and most diabolical of all - to stare at him.

"That's your brilliant plan to get Ravage here?" he demanded.

"More or less."

"And what makes you think the 'Cons will fall for that?"

The smallest of smiles graced Prowl's features, just for a moment. "Past experience."

"Right." Grant shook his head. "Must be an alien thing."

"Dramatic poses, people!"

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker immediately stood back to back, arms crossed (and how they did that with such boxy arms was anybody's guess), staring off into the middle distance with cinematic frowns as a camera operator circled them several times. On the other side of the runway, Tory, Grant, Kari, Spike and Carly were doing a few 'Dramatic Walk' takes, their feet raising clouds of red dust.

"Beautiful," Tory declared once the camera operators declared themselves satisfied. "Let's get this show on the road."

"If 'road' is what you call it." Sunstreaker kicked at the dirt doubtfully.

Lacking a highway to call their own, the Build Team had made do with a dirt track about a half-mile from the Ark proper. From this humble beginning sprouted a series of metal monstrosities, stretching out before them like a demented gauntlet.

Sideswipe bounced in place. "This is gonna be so cool. Get ready to get your skidplate kicked, Sunshine."

"Don't call me Sunshine. And who's getting their skidplate kicked?" Sunstreaker shot back. "Tory and I won those drag-races, slowpoke."

"Actually," Kari volunteered apologetically, "you and Tory only won two out of five heats. But they were all close!" she added.

Sunstreaker leveled a flat glare at Tory, who backpedaled in not-entirely-feigned terror. "Hey, I have to worry about G-forces! What do you want from me?"

"Burning daylight, guys," Spike called from the starting line.

Grumbling, Sunstreaker stalked to the starting line and transformed into his car mode. His brother joined him, and both cars accepted their two humans each: again, Tory and Carly in Sunstreaker's front seats, Grant and Spike in Sideswipe's.

"Now look," Sunstreaker growled, his voice vibrating around his passengers along with the sound of his own engine. "You better bring your A-game."

"Got it," Tory nodded.

"I mean it, human." The wheel twitched warningly in Tory's hands. "I'm giving you the best I got, so you better do the same."

Tory leaned down, speaking directly into Sunstreaker's wheel. "You've got my best, Sunstreaker. I promise."

"Good. I'm switching my relays to your control now." The tone of Sunstreaker's engine changed. "Let's show my brother who's king of the road."

"You got it." Tory grinned, bouncing against the five-point seatbelts as Kari walked out to the middle of the road and raised her flag.

"Ready! Set!"

The flag dropped. The twins' engines roared.

Kari shrieked with laughter as the Lamborghinis blew by, whipping her hair about her face in the wake of their passage. The twins flung themselves into the first leg of the course, jockeying for position, Tory pushed to new heights of daring by Sunstreaker's harsh-worded encouragement. He steered Sunstreaker easily around the obstacles he helped to build, though they'd been set together by Grant, Kari, and Hoist into configurations he'd never anticipated. Ahead, Sideswipe whooped and fishtailed, mocking his brother and his driver. Tory flung Sunstreaker to one side, eliciting a yell of surprise from the warrior, and whipped around a swinging foam-wrapped beam that threatened to knock the car off his tires.

"What was that!" Sunstreaker demanded.

"One of Kari and Grant's evil ideas!" Tory breathed a sigh of relief as they left the contraption behind.

"Yeah, well, good thing that thing was wrapped up. If my paint gets scratched I will not be happy."

"Trust me!" Tory saw his chance - an open stretch and Sideswipe drifting to one side - and took it, hitting the gas. Sunstreaker bucked and leaped forward, overtaking his brother and roaring into the lead.

"Whoo!" Tory smacked the ceiling and grinned into Carly's camcorder. "This is awesome! Oh crap!"

He jerked the wheel just in time to avoid plowing through a sudden plywood barrier. "Optics on the road!" Sunstreaker bellowed.

"Sorry!"

"You're gonna be if I get scratched!" Sunstreaker shouted back furiously, engine roaring as Tory pulled him into a curve. "Now let's win this thing!"

Tory pushed the gas pedal straight down to the floor with a wild rebel yell. Sideswipe cursed and followed, inches from his brother's back bumpers, and Carly turned to give a jaunty wave to the other twin.

Her grin froze. "Decepticons!" she cried, pointing skyward.

"Now?" Sunstreaker groaned.

The Decepticon jets screamed overhead, spewing invective and lasers, and suddenly the lovingly-built obstacle course became a wicked deathtrap.

"Bluestreak. Your move."

"Give me a minute! I'm not Prowl, you know, he's the tactician and I'm just a gunner. He'd be good at this game, you know. I wonder if he'd want to play."

Jamie thought he was getting better at following Bluestreak's near-constant subject shifts. "Well, we'll ask him later. In the meantime, your fighter is being accosted by the walking dead. You may want to do something about that."

"Ummm." Bluestreak peered down at the tiny game board as if it would impart some ancient secret. Across from him, Smokescreen slouched indolently in his chair, his cleric having nothing to worry about on the 'scourge of the undead' front, and the two elder members of the Mythbusters leaned over their table-on-a-table that allowed them to play D&D on a somewhat even footing with the Autobots.

Bluestreak straightened and flicked his doorwings, suddenly determined. "Okay, I want to-"

Alarm klaxons flashed and screamed; the two Autobots jumped to their feet. "Hey!" Adam protested. "What's going on?"

"Decepticons, sorry, we'll finish later!" Bluestreak yelled, and was gone, running hard at Smokescreen's heels.

"Oh, the insurance guys are going to pitch a hairy one," Adam groaned, and swung himself over the side of the larger table onto a ladder built into it for the express purpose of being human-friendly.

"Not as long as we stay inside where it's safe." Jamie followed his partner down, already knowing where he was headed. The pair ducked into the Autobots' command room, once the bridge of an honest-to-God spaceship (would they ever get over that? Sources point to no) in time to hear Optimus Prime order Bluestreak and Smokescreen to battle along with the other Autobots.

"You'll assist Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," he was saying.

"The twins?" Adam yelped. "What about the Build Team?"

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will not let any harm come to them," Optimus Prime promised. "I must ask that you trust me in this, and remain here in the base."

Jamie cocked his head, beret quietly defying gravity to stay in place. "You think we're going to go haring off into a battle zone?" Optimus's expression was hidden behind his mask, but his meaningful silence communicated that he'd expected exactly that. "Prime, trust me, not all of us are quite that reckless."

"Not without Kevlar, anyway," Adam offered.

"Right." Still watching them warily - as if he expected them to change their minds and fling themselves into the path of a rampaging pack of Decepticons at any moment - Optimus gave the final command. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

"Am I the only one who gets all tingly when he says that?" Adam wondered as the Autobots sped away.

Jamie gave him an arch look. "Save that for when the cameras are off, Adam." He waved at the couple of camera operators who'd attached themselves to the pair. "Let's see if we can see what's going on on these monitors."

Adam grinned. "You're as curious as me, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah." Jamie was about to look for a ladder, but just then his pocket buzzed.

Adam's jaw dropped. "Is that-?"

"Yeah." Jamie seemed utterly calm as he looked at the cell phone in his hand, but to Adam, his shock and uncertainty were as easy to read as a blueprint. "Looks like Ravage just solved the first puzzle lock."

Adam cast a glance upward, to Teletraan-1's monitors. "Go or stay?"

Jamie stuffed the phone back in his pocket. "You know the Build Team will never forgive us if we don't get this data."

"Right. Let's go."

Leaving the images of battle behind, Adam and Jamie ran for Wheeljack's bunker.

Sideswipe transformed immediately, using the trick Bumblebee had showed him of transforming around the humans in his cab. Grant and Spike clutched in one arm, he unsheathed his pistol into his free hand and stitched the sky with laserfire. The Seekers jeered, waggling their wings, and came around for another destructive pass.

In contrast, Sunstreaker stayed in car mode, careening desperately around what was left of the obstacle course. "Get it in gear, Sunflower!" Sideswipe yelled.

"Transform!" Carly cried, echoing Sideswipe's demand from inside Sunstreaker's cab.

"I can't!" Sunstreaker howled, engine pumping furiously. "My relays aren't switching back!"

"You are kidding me!" Tory floored the gas pedal, throwing Sunstreaker out of the way of the Decepticons' second salvo by such a slim margin that he could swear he felt his eyebrows crisping. "What do we do? I can't out-drive jets!"

"Move!" Carly inserted herself bodily between Tory and the steering wheel.

"Uh, Carly, I'm flattered, but I can't see-"

"Oh, shut up." Carly swiftly removed a panel under Sunstreaker's wheel and thrust her hand into the alien workings inside. "Just keep driving while I reset his relays."

"You can do that?"

"Are you complaining?"

Tory snapped his mouth shut over a sarcastic reply when the Decepticon jets ahead wheeled around with threatening shrieks. "Nope."

"Good. Just try not to get us shot."

"Well, I'll try."

"Not inspiring confidence here!" Sunstreaker yelled.

"Do I look like Optimus Prime to you?" Tory grinned crazily.

"Shut up and drive!"

Tory jerked the wheel, tearing Carly out of Sunstreaker's internals and Sunstreaker out of the path of Decepticon missiles all at once. The blasts shook the road underneath them, rattling the two humans inside.

"You can't hit the broad side of a space shuttle!" Sunstreaker roared.

"Oh, great, piss them off," Tory groaned, shifting back so that Carly could get back in under Sunstreaker's steering wheel.

"What? It's tradition!" Sunstreaker snapped back. "Carly, how close are you?"

"Almost..." Carly grunted.

"Hurry, they're coming back!"

"Almost... there!"

Sunstreaker's doors flew open. The humans were unceremoniously dumped into the dirt and Sunstreaker flung himself into robot mode, firing wildly into the sky before all his parts had locked into place. Shocked, Tory lost precious seconds gaping until Carly grabbed him by the arm and dragged him behind cover.

"Is it always this exciting?" Tory asked perkily.

He'd expected Carly to scoff or sock him or maybe roll her eyes at his incorrigible maleness. He didn't expect her to grin. "Stick around long enough, you'll get to see Megatron's latest superweapon. It gets real fun then."

It was probably just the adrenaline that had Tory laughing at that, but he wasn't going to complain.

"...You know, we've been doing this show a long time..."

"A really long time."

"But this is the first time I've actually been scared of our results." Adam waved a hand at his laptop. "Look at this. He's busted three puzzle locks and so far none of our setups has so much as blipped."

"No thermal," Jamie agreed, low-voiced. "No electromagnetic. No motion. Nothing senses him."

"Is he a ghost?" Adam ran both hands through his hair. "What do they make Decepticons out of these days?"

"According to Red Alert, Ravage is the only one who can do this." Jamie tapped the table pensively, just in front of where his cell phone rested. "He's small, he's energy-efficient, he's really unique among the Decepticons. Almost all the others are built to stomp around and destroy stuff, not for stealth."

Adam shook his head and started to respond, but then the cell went off again, dancing across the table as it vibrated. Both men nearly leaped out of their skin. "That's four!" Adam announced, a little hysterical. "He's in the infrared room - holy mother of zombies."

"What?"

Rather than answer, Adam turned the laptop to face his partner. On the screen, the infrared camera's image clearly showed a moving form, low-slung and quadripedal, making its way cautiously along the wall to the next door. "You see what I see?"

"I see one Ravage," Jamie confirmed, the ends of his mustache lifting as he smiled. "Looks like there's one thing he's not immune to."

"Thank the robot gods." Adam ran a hand through his hair. "You know the kids are going to be so jealous we saw this first."

"Let's hope they're having as much fun as we are," Jamie smiled.

"Are we - having - fun yet?" Grant groaned, his whole body shaken by every running step Sideswipe took.

"Sides!" Sunstreaker roared, holding the line ahead. "Ditch the payload and come help!"

"Sure, soon as you ask the nice Decepticons for a time-out so I can stash them!" Sideswipe turned, protecting Grant and Spike from a spray of laserfire from above. Lances of energy grazed his shoulder, striking sparks; Sideswipe yelped.

"Sideswipe!" Sunstreaker called again.

Sideswipe whirled to yell at his brother, and saw - the most wonderful sight he'd ever seen. The Autobots, led by Optimus Prime, were barreling down the dirt road toward them. Coming to the rescue.

" 'Bout time!" he whooped, and ran for cover as the Seekers turned their guns on the newcomers instead of on him. "You'll be okay now, kids."

"Thanks," Grant croaked. "Not a minute too soon."

"Remember that talk we had about human rib cages?" Spike added.

"Details, details." Sideswipe deposited the humans behind a slumped-over heap that was once a Mythbusters-built obstacle, and raced to join his fellow soldiers as they transformed and spread out.

Starscream's strident voice filled the battlefield, cutting - as it was designed to do - through the sound of his own engines. "This is a private party! Who invited the riffraff?"

"Autobots," Optimus Prime ordered. "Show him our invitations."

Bright lances of energy flew into the sky, forcing the Seekers to scatter, and the Autobots reloaded for another salvo. Grant rubbed his ringing ears and grinned at Spike. "That was a good line."

"Well, he's been doing this a while," Spike pointed out.

"Wonder if he'd be interested in showbiz," Grant mused. "You know, after this whole war thing gets sorted out."

Spike snickered as the two peeked over their makeshift battlement to watch as Sideswipe joined his fellow Autobots in driving the Decepticon fliers out of their airspace. Starscream and his two followers circled frantically, shooting up high to avoid the enemy laserfire and then descending to attack. The Decepticons were sorely outnumbered, all but a few Autobots arrayed against them, and after a few passes even they seemed to realize it. Grant joined his voice in with the Autobots in a cheer of victory as the Seekers turned thruster and fled.

"Good work, Autobots," Optimus said, striding forward. "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, excellent job protecting the humans until we arrived."

Sideswipe beamed; Sunstreaker rolled one shoulder and growled. "Yeah, well, thanks to them I almost couldn't transform. Not doing that again."

"But our data!" Tory protested.

Sunstreaker growled; Grant took Tory by the arm. "Easy, there. Let's not antagonize the stressed-out giant robot, okay?"

"But!"

"We got some data. We'll just have to extrapolate."

"But..."

Tory's entirely disturbing attempt at puppy eyes was tabled by Grant's cell phone going off. "Hold that thought," Grant told him, cutting off the tinny strains of the Imperial March with the press of a button. "Hi, Jamie. ...No, I'm not going to guess. Just tell me. ...You are kidding me!"

"What is it?" Spike demanded.

Grant lowered the phone. "Ravage just made off with the Space Coffeemaker," he reported weakly.

"What?" Tory yelped.

"So that was the purpose of this attack," Optimus Prime mused.

"A distraction?" Sunstreaker moaned. "Are you serious?"

"The Decepticons took the bait," Optimus told him, "exactly as we expected. Right now I'm sure Megatron is anticipating some new weapon he can turn against us." A few snickers rose from the gathered Autobots. "Imagine the moment when Ravage delivers the object in question into Megatron's hands, and he powers it on for the first time."

"Disco inferno," someone sang in a nasal falsetto.

Optimus's optics positively twinkled. "And when that little mini-him pops up..."

Sunstreaker lost it and doubled over laughing. "Oh, s-slag," he giggled, "it'll be so epic..."

"Burn, baby burn!" another anonymous minstrel opined. The Autobots, and the Mythbusters, broke up laughing.

***

[sound only]

"I wish we could get footage of when Megatron gets the Space Coffeemaker."

"You know two of our camera guys volunteered to sneak in and film that, Kari?"

"Really?"

"Sorry, guys, insurance nixed that. We don't have Decepticon coverage."

"Not fair. We should get some, Adam."

"Good point. Jamie, get on that."

"Mph."

"....Grant, you okay? You seem kind of quiet for a guy who's in robot nirvana."

"I just... I guess the attack today shook me a little."

"No surprise. That was intense."

"Not that kind of intense, Tory. Look, for us this is a fun job, but for them... for the Autobots, this is a war. One they've been fighting for longer than Earth has even existed. I just... don't want to be the reason for another battle, you know?"

"...yeah, I hear you."

"I understand too, Grant, but... they could have told us no, and they didn't. Maybe they figured it was worth the increased risk to have some fun with us, too."

"...maybe. Still. I wish there was something we could do."

"Don't worry about that. Adam and I have brought some supplies just in case."

"...Supplies?"

"Just in case of what, Jamie?"

"...Classified."

"Come on..."

"It's no use, guys. Don't poke the Hyneman."

"Okay, we'll just poke you instead."

"Ack! Heeeelp!"

[end recording]

***

Back at home, the Autobots battened down their metaphorical hatches and awaited Megatron's retaliatory strike. Patrols were shortened and kept within shouting distance of the Ark, lest an attack separate the scouts from their base. Monitor duty shifts were doubled, as many optics as possible trained on both the long-range and short-range scanners. The fighters sparred with each other, keeping their skills sharp.

The Mythbusters did their part too: entertaining the troops.

"What," said Prowl, with the kind of preternatural calm that heralded some truly terrible wrath about to fall, "in the name of Primus is going on here?"

Kari, Grant and Tory glanced at each other sheepishly (and a bit stickily). "Well... the guys wanted to see the Diet Coke and Mentos trick," Kari began.

"Mhm."

"And we put down this kiddie pool to catch the splash!" Tory pointed out, nudging the blue inflatable pool with his foot for emphasis. The soda within, already an inch deep, sloshed helpfully.

"Mm... hm."

"But, uh... I guess we got carried away?" Grant offered, wincing at the sticky mess all over the Ark's orange walls. "Sorry about that. We would've done it outside, but..."

"But we are under lockdown," Bumblebee pointed out reasonably. "I heard Ironhide tell them they couldn't do it outside because of the 'Cons."

"Only he used naughtier words," Spike grinned.

"I see. So, instead of choosing an appropriate indoor activity," Prowl summed up with icy calm, "you chose to perform an outdoor demonstration indoors."

"Uh." The humans glanced at each other, wide-eyed. "Maybe?"

"Aww, go easy on 'em," Ironhide called. " 'Bots gotta drive, 'Cons gotta fly."

"What does that mean for the Aerialbots?" Prowl pointed out dryly, and Ironhide closed his mouth. "I realize we're all a bit on edge right now, and I've let discipline run a bit lax for the sake of our guests, but that doesn't extend to making a mess of the rec room. Now, I want-"

Whatever Prowl's particular brand of justice would have entailed, the perpetrators would, fortunately, never know. The alarms began to wail urgently, accompanied by Teletraan-1 repeating "Decepticon alert! Decepticon alert!" over the speakers. The Autobots reacted immediately, storming out of the rec room in a cacophonic stampede, Prowl leading the pack. Spike and Carly, in defiance of all common sense one might normally exercise among giant war machines in battle mode, tagged along as a matter of course. After a moment to exchange glances, Tory, Grant and Kari followed suit as a matter of not missing anything interesting.

"Trailbreaker, Smokescreen, Huffer, Hound, set up a defensive perimeter around the entrance," Optimus was commanding calmly as they entered. "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, prepare to enter the field; Mirage, Bluestreak, you'll cover them. The rest of you know your stations. Autobots-"

"-Wait! Wait wait wait!"

Optimus paused as the Build Team gathered around his knees like eager three-year-olds. "Can we say it?" Tory begged. "Please?"

"We've always wanted to say it!" Kari added.

"Please, Mister Prime Sir?" Grant chimed in.

Under the circumstances (and the gaze of the Discovery cameras), the only thing the Prime could do was surrender gracefully. "Very well. Give the command."

"Yes!" Kari, Grant, and Tory gripped hands as they spun to face the assembled soldiers. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

The Autobots acknowledged the order with cheers and emphatic salutes, and raced out to meet the enemy.

Jamie and Adam heard the alarms too, of course, but unlike the younger members of their crew, they still had important and serious work to do.

"Okay, the wind chime is a great idea, but it's making the baseball lose velocity," Adam reported, jingling the borrowed decoration. "Should we lose it?"

"Lose it," Jamie confirmed without looking up. "And hand me that bottle of brake fluid."

Adam handed over the half-full bottle. "This is gonna be awesome. Even if we don't win, I'm totally proud of this rig."

"Mm-hm." Jamie worked the bottle into the grip of a vice wrench. "Okay, so when that hubcap turns, the bottle will tip and pour into this bucket... I think maybe we'll need a funnel or something."

"I saw one of those satellite-dish collars they put on dogs who have surgery around here somewhere..." Adam wandered off to find it while Jamie returned his attention to his work. Bottle and hubcap balanced to his satisfaction, he leaned to one side to gather his tools.

The floor shivered underneath him. Jamie paused. "I think I've seen this movie before," he muttered as the room started to shake.

Adam yelped and jumped back as a tower of Autobot medkits tumbled down right in front of him. "Jamie!" he called. "Is the volcano blowing?"

"It's supposed to be dormant!" Jamie called back. "But there's also supposed to be a Decepticon that can make earthquakes-"

Jamie interrupted himself with a word that would never make it past the Discovery censors. "Jamie?" Adam called, worried.

The shaking stopped with a shocking abruptness that proved it hadn't been a natural quake. Adam wobbled on the steady deck like a sailor taking his first steps on land and stumbled to Jamie's side. "Jamie? You okay?"

Jamie turned, holding the repurposed hubcap like a shield. His shirt, face, and beret were splashed with brake fluid. "This time," he pronounced, mustache bristling with ire, "they've gone too far."

Any normal man would have been terrified. Adam was no normal man. "Time to break out our secret weapon?" he grinned.

"Yep. You've defrosted the ammo?"

"Is my name Adam Savage?"

"Good. Let's roll."

Bluestreak was no expert, but he was fairly certain the battle wasn't going well.

Windcharger was down. Jazz was down. Trailbreaker had been pinned near the entrance with Bumblebee and Spike, and had been forced to shrink his force field to keep it intact under a barrage of lasers and missiles. This had the added effect of weakening their defensive lines, and Bluestreak was running out of ammunition trying to keep up with the increased volume of enemies. Scourged on by Megatron's terrible fury, the Decepticons were in fine form today. Bluestreak didn't really believe the Autobots were going to lose this battle - such a thing was simply beyond comprehension - but he wondered, as the Autobots lost another inch of ground, what price they would pay for victory.

He settled a target lock on one of the coneheaded fliers coming in for a strafing run, only to lose it when his comm buzzed. "Bluestreak reporting," he transmitted, expecting to hear Prowl on the other end.

"Hey, Bluestreak!"

"Adam?" Bluestreak shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm kinda busy right now-"

"I know, but this is important," Adam assured him. "We've got something that might help turn the tables for you guys, but we need your help."

"My help?"

"You're the gunner, right?"

Bluestreak frowned at his comm. "You've... brought a gun?" he guessed.

"Oh, not just any gun..."

Adam told him the name of their weapon, and suddenly Bluestreak couldn't get inside fast enough. He crawl-scrambled backwards along the rock, ducking laserfire as he went.

"Blue!" Ironhide roared. "Back to your post!"

"Sorry, Ironhide," Bluestreak babbled breathlessly, never slowing, "gotta go, going to save our afts, be right back!"

Ironhide spluttered and roared, but Bluestreak only increased his speed. Science waited for no mechanism!

Ramjet screamed by overhead, spewing laserfire and insults with equal fervor. He flung himself over the Autobot lines unchecked - until a viselike grip clamped down on his wing and tossed him, still screaming, into the side of Mt. St. Hilary.

Optimus Prime ducked the burst of fire and shrapnel that resulted from the crash and rotated his wrenched arm. Ahead of him, more Decepticons rattled up the slope, and behind them, urging them forward in a battleground bellow: Megatron.

If he were to damage Megatron, the Decepticons would retreat. Yet if he left the Autobot lines to do so, the other Autobots would find it that much harder to defend the base. Optimus scanned the field, weighing offense against defense, calculating advantages against the risks - until Megatron flung himself down the field at him, taking the decision out of his hands.

Megatron hit Optimus at over ninety miles per hour, driving him back and down as the rock under his feet shattered into rubble. Optimus Prime was made of sterner stuff, though, and held his ground. "Did you like our little gift, Megatron?" he taunted, engine humming with exertion.

Megatron's harsh roar of rage drowned out the noise of battle around them. "No one makes a fool of me!" he snarled.

"You seem to do an excellent job of that yourself!" Optimus caught a wildly-swung fist in one hand and used it to overbalance his enemy. Megatron stumbled right into Optimus's leg and fell, but - ever the cunning fighter - turned the motion into a leg-sweep that knocked the Prime on his skidplate. Before he could get up again Megatron pounced him.

They rolled, evenly matched in power, but no matter how Optimus struggled Megatron was always the one who ended up with the upper hand. His mocking grin infuriated Optimus as few things could, and he answered with a roar of his own and - using a move he'd learned while on Earth - planted a knee between Megatron's legs with a resounding clang. The move did not elicit the distinctive reaction it would have had on a human male, the area being devoid of much more than heavy hip joints and balance sensors, but it did have the effect of launching Megatron entirely over Optimus's head. The Slagmaker landed flat on his face; Optimus used the brief respite to scramble upright and renew his attack with a mighty double-fisted blow.

It never connected. Megatron, quick as always, was under Optimus's guard and sealed his victory with an uppercut that sent Optimus sprawling. Before he could recover, Megatron's black cannon was leveled inches from his face. Optimus looked up into crimson optics burning with fury.

"You," Megatron snarled, "seem to be under the mistaken impression that this is a game, Prime." The cannon began charging, emitting a violet glow from deep within it. "Allow me to give you a dose of reality!"

"Oh yeah?"

The defiance of the shout rather than the words made Megatron turn. Recognizing that voice and experiencing a familiar sinking feeling, Optimus struggled to one knee to look. Megatron was faced with a cannon: not the powerful precision instrument the Decepticon himself used, but a simple black tube braced against Bluestreak's shoulder. Adam and Jamie stood on either side: Jamie holding on to a long lever attached to the cannon, and Adam pointing dramatically at Megatron.

"Well, I reject your reality!" Adam declared, "and substitute my own!"

On cue, Jamie threw the lever. The cannon discharged with a loud fwoom of compressed air, launching an odd-shaped projectile at Megatron, who was too slow - or perhaps too dumbfounded - to get out of the way.

Four pounds of fresh, high-quality whole raw chicken hit Megatron right in the face.

"Reload, reload!" Bluestreak yelped as Megatron stood stock-still, rigid with surprise and disgust. Pulverized organic matter dripped down his cheek. Adam scampered to shove another chicken down the air cannon's barrel while Jamie calmly repressurized the system.

Megatron roared, his voice cracking in rage, clawing at his sullied face with one hand while he aimed his cannon at Bluestreak and the Mythbusters with the other. "Oh crap, run!" Adam cried, quite unnecessarily as all three were already abandoning their positions.

Optimus lunged at Megatron, tackling him around the knees and bringing him down to Earth again, ruining his aim. "I will have my revenge!" the tyrant roared, shaking a fist at the cannoneers' retreating backs. "Mark my words! Decepticons, get them!"

The assembled Decepticons, shaken from their shocked stupor by Megatron's voice, started into motion again, and the Autobots lifted their weapons in defiance. A shadow passed over all of them.

"Bombs away!"

From atop Swoop's back, Tory flung his payload: multicolored giant balloons, full to capacity with liquid. The first of them hit Thrust just below the waist. He yelped and brushed frantically at the resultant splash, and yelped again when the liquid foamed up into a pastel pink solid that encrusted him from knees to cockpit - more importantly, gumming up his wings.

"It's a trap!" he wailed.

"Me Swoop say eat alginate!" Swoop crowed as he and his passenger zoomed overhead.

"Yeah, and me Tory say - uh, what he said!"

The Decepticons scrambled to get to the air, but it was too late: the alginate balloons hit and splattered among them, gumming up thrusters and antigravs and joints to hopeless immobility amid a cheery pastel alginate snow. Before Megatron's horrified optics, the Decepticon war machine fell into hopeless disarray.

"Three cheers for science," Optimus murmured amusedly, still pinning Megatron's legs.

Megatron twisted to give him a glare, then bellowed at his Decepticons. "Pull yourselves together! They're only humans!"

"They're humans with scary goo!" Motormaster protested, trying to scrape alginate out of his intakes. Dead End and Breakdown edged away from him just in case Megatron decided to turn his wrath on their gestalt commander.

"Oh, you idiots!" Starscream landed in front of them with a thump, brandishing his null rays at Decepticon and Autobot alike. "They're coming around for another pass! Defensive positions, now!"

Swoop's shadow fell over the Decepticons, spurring them to action. Those that were capable scrambled into a defensive phalanx.

"Ready - aim!" Starscream ordered, pointing his null rays at the oncoming Dinobot.

A single alginate balloon, smaller than Tory and Swoop's ammunition, sailed across the battlefield from the direction of the Ark and hit Starscream full in the face, splattering him with foaming pink and muffling his outraged shriek. The Decepticons, waiting for Starscream's order, hesitated a bit too long - before anyone could fire a shot, Tory offloaded his second payload from Swoop's back, showering them with colorful chemical doom.

"Thanks for the assist, guys!" Tory called.

"Welcome!" From behind his beloved throwing-swinging-and-hitting-things multipurpose robot, Grant gave a jaunty wave.

"That was a nice shot," Kari commented, loading another balloon into the robot's flinging arm (a repurposed lacrosse stick).

"It was, wasn't it?" Grant grinned. "I feel like Decepticon alginate bombing should be a competitive sport."

Kari laughed. "You're as high on adrenaline as I am, aren't you?"

"Heck yeah."

Kari cackled. "Decepticons take over the planet on our watch?" she crowed proudly. "Myth busted!"

On cue, Grant hit the trigger, and his alginate balloon sailed into the scattered Decepticon lines, adding insult to injury. Their volley was quickly followed by a high-caliber chicken: Jamie, Adam, and Bluestreak had retreated to a more defensible position, and reset their cannon.

With a roar of rage, Megatron finally kicked free of Optimus Prime's grip. They rolled to their feet in the same moment, and Optimus tilted his head at his longtime rival. "You've already lost this battle, Megatron. Will you persist?"

Megatron half-turned, keeping Optimus well in cannon range while he surveyed the battlefield-cum-Mythbusters-munitions-ground. "I haven't lost yet," he declared with a wicked smirk. "Constructicons! Transform and combine!"

Optimus's optics flickered, the only outward sign of shock he would show. Someone in the Autobot lines yelled, "Oh, slag!"

"But I've got chicken in my-" Long Haul's protest was cut short by a quick smack from Hook. The other Decepticons moved back to give the Constructicons room, and Devastator rose from among them with a groan of metal and a shadow that blocked out the sun.

"Guys?" Bluestreak quavered. "We're gonna need a lot more chicken."

"I don't think we've got enough for this," Adam squeaked.

Devastator approached the Ark slowly, inorexably - and then, unbelievably, folded to one knee. "KARI BYRON," his voice thundered.

Kari, caught in his shadow, swallowed hard. "Uh. Yeah?"

Devastator extended a hand. Dwarfed in his palm was a notebook and pen.

"DEVASTATOR REQUESTS YOUR AUTOGRAPH," he explained.

"Oh. Uh. Sure."

And with that, the battle was more or less over.

"Gather round, guys! It's time for our last myth!"

A round of groans followed Wheeljack's pronouncement, accompanied by Spike and Bumblebee ducking behind the couch. "Batten down the hatches!" Seaspray cried.

"Hey!" Wheeljack put his hands on his hips. "You rustin' ingrates! See if I let you raid my fireworks for Prime's next birthday!"

"We love you, Wheeljack," the rustin' ingrates chorused, and Wheeljack dropped his affronted pose with a laugh. Autobots and humans alike followed Wheeljack to the bridge, where Jamie, Adam and Ratchet were putting the finishing touches on their masterpieces.

"Ladies and gentlemechs!" Grant announced from atop Teletraan-1 as Wheeljack led the spectators in. "Welcome to the Mythbusters Versus Autobot Science Nerds Epic Build-Off Showdown! Please welcome our contestants - iiiin the red corner, it's Team Small and Squishy-"

"But handsome!" Adam put in.

"-Jamie and Adam!" Grant proclaimed to a wave of cheers and applause, and a shake of pompons from Tory, who looked less than cheery for a cheerleader.

"Why am I stuck with these things again?" he muttered.

Beside him, Kari grinned unapologetically. "Sorry, Tory. You lost the game, you shake the pompons."

"Curse you, paper-rock-scissors!" Tory lamented.

"And iiiin the blue corner!" Grant continued. "The defending champions of mayhem, the Mechanical Marauders, Wheeljack and Ratchet!" The Autobots mustered an even louder cheer for their teammates, and Ratchet pumped a fist in the air.

"Ready to kick some aft?" Wheeljack asked him, offering a fist-tap to his friend.

Ratchet returned the gesture with a grin. "Slaggin' straight."

"And let's have a show of appreciation for our fair and impartial volunteer judge!" Grant gestured across the room, where a perturbed Optimus Prime sat enthroned in his command chair.

Amid the din of cheers, Spike and Carly accompanied a camera operator over to the Prime just in time to hear a slightly ungracious mutter from him. "I don't know what makes them think I'm impartial."

Spike laughed and patted Optimus's leg fearlessly. "You've kind of got a reputation, big guy. 'Bias' isn't something usually associated with you."

"But... I have to live with Ratchet afterwards."

Spike laughed at Optimus's plaintive tone. "Aww, don't worry. I'll protect you from the big, bad medic."

"My hero." Optimus bent, offering his hands to Spike and his companions; all three climbed up fearlessly. The camera operator claimed the arm of the chair as a vantage point, while Spike and Carly settled in Optimus's lap.

"So," Spike asked impishly, "are we forgiven for letting the Mythbusters in?"

Optimus tilted his head up, playing up the 'impassive commander' pose. "Maybe."

Chuckling warmly, Spike settled in with his back against Optimus and Carly getting comfortable next to him, to watch the metaphorical fireworks. ....Probably metaphorical fireworks, he corrected himself, watching Adam and Jamie ready themselves for their first attempt.

With the Mythbusters, actual fireworks were always a possibility.

The Rube Goldberg contraptions took up half the bridge. The motley collections of junk didn't seem to have any discernable plan, but the sheer mass of them spilled over the floor, climbed up the walls, and extended a tentacle into the hallway. "It's kinda like a junk shop sneezed, huh?" he opined, making Carly laugh.

"Perhaps to the untrained eye," Adam called over to him with a dramatic waggle of his eyebrows. "But watch and learn and you will see that there is a method to our madness."

Ratchet snorted, amused; Adam dropped the pose with a laugh. "Okay, so it's mostly just madness."

"I'd say it's about sixty percent madness, fifty percent method," Jamie put in.

"Uh, that doesn't add up..."

Jamie's mustache curled in a smile. "We always give one hundred and ten percent."

"Right!" Adam beamed. "Okay, big guys. As the home team, you get to go first."

"Tha-anks," Ratchet drawled. "Wheeljack, you did the pre-launch checklist?"

"Twice," Wheeljack nodded. "All systems are go."

Ratchet nodded. "Autobots, Mythbusters, and Optimus Prime - I give you the Mythmaker!" He waved his hand with a flourish, and Wheeljack triggered the first device.

"...Nothing's happening."

"Wheeljaaaaack..."

"Wait, wait... oh. Oops. Put the batteries in backwards." Wheeljack gave the room a sheepish look and shrank back from Ratchet. "It wasn't on the checklist!" he said defensively as he switched the batteries and plopped the mechanical toy frog down.

It leaped into action immediately, leaping into a weather vane, which spun into a house of playing cards, which collapsed and sent Sparkplug's truck keys swinging into a plastic cup, which fell over and deposited a marble into a basket attached to the pulley installed into the middle of a surprised-looking rubber chicken, which pulled a match up along a file -

"Go, go, go!" the Autobots cheered.

- lighting the match which continued upward to light a candle, which burned through a string, which released a bungee cord, which sprang upwards-

"Whoa!" Gears leaped back, narrowly avoiding a bungee cord to the face. "Watch it!"

- smacking into a loose tile in the ceiling, which swung open to release a Slinky -

"So that's where that went!" Smokescreen exclaimed.

- which spilled into a bucket with a rattle, which launched a rubber duck onto Teletraan-1's console, hitting the switch that launched the Skyspy unit. Instead of Skyspy, though, a miniature, stubby-limbed effigy of Optimus Prime rose into view.

"No they did not," Sideswipe said, his tone admiring.

The toy began to wobble and spin, and from inside Teletraan-1's innards rose a tinny but unmistakable recording.

"She's a brick - house! She's mighty mighty, just lettin' it all hang out!"

"Betrayed," Optimus mourned, his face sinking into his hands. "Betrayed by my own troops!"

Ratchet cackled, leaning against the console so that one of the camera operators could get a shot of him next to Mini Disco Prime. "Just remember when you're judgin', boss," he grinned. "You have to live with me afterwards."

"I'm retiring to Fiji." Optimus's voice was muffled behind his hands.

Ratchet cackled again as the cameras' focus switched from mechs to Mythbusters. "Team Large and Clanky made a strong showing in the Rube Goldberg challenge!" Emcee Grant declared. "Can the Mythbusters top that performance?"

"How do you feel, guys?" Kari asked.

"Ummm," Adam hedged.

"Great," Jamie said, adding a thumbs-up to the camera for good measure. "Adam? Pre-launch checklist?"

Adam looked blank. "Yes, I'm wearing underwear."

"Good to know." Jamie shook his head. "This is Mythbusters Versus Autobots, Rube Goldberg Challenge-"

"Also known as The Mayhem Machine!" Adam put in.

"In three! Two! One!"

Later, no one was really able to say definitively what had happened or in what order. Different parts of the monster the Mythbusters had constructed stuck in each of their minds, but none were able to comprehend the whole. For Spike, who was still trying to figure out how to get some alginate for himself without his father finding out, the standout moment was the needle dropped onto Grant's last leftover alginate balloon, exploding it to let its contents foam up and overflow a fishtank. Red Alert's keenly-tuned processor picked out every detail of a marble looping its way through a coiled spring. Perceptor was certain that the motion of a yo-yo and a pinwheel described the motion of an extradimensional gateway used in the function of space bridges. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker saw motor oil being poured down a funnel by a hubcap, and thought of good times on Cybertron; Prowl saw the turning point of a battle in a rubber band launching a worn-out gear up into a makeshift pulley rig, sending a basket suspended from the ceiling into motion.

"Final act!" Adam declared. "Let's go!"

"...Go?" Optimus asked, but the basket was beginning to move, bumping along a scrap-iron runner in the ceiling, and the Mythbusters were scrambling after it. The spectators had no choice but to follow, eyes and optical sensors fixed on the bouncing basket all the way to the medbay, where Jazz, Windcharger, Grapple and Powerglide were convalescing while their repairs settled. They looked or sat up, according to their ability, and watched along with the sudden crowd of spectators sharing their recovery space.

"Now wait a klick-" Ratchet began.

The basket bumped into a large balloon hanging from the ceiling, which exploded and cast its heavy cargo of confetti out all across the medbay, anointing every surface - and the four wounded mechs - with sparkles.

Optimus crossed his arms thoughtfully. "I must be honest, Ratchet," he drawled, "I think this wins."

"Yeah," Ratchet answered with a hint of a smile, "I kinda was thinkin' the same thing myself."

Spike bent and scooped up some of the fallen confetti. "Flamingos?" he asked.

"It was either that or 'Over the Hill,' " Adam explained. Spike snickered and closed his hand over the sparkly flamingo.

"So, Jamie. How'd we do?"

Jamie turned to address his fellow Mythbusters and their Autobot hosts with as much of a businesslike air as he could manage, given the circumstances. "Let's go down the list," he said. "Autobots better at building Rube Goldbergs than humans?"

"Busted," Adam declared. "Ours got full points for style, skill, and awesomeness."

"Was that what the judge said?"

"Well, I could tell that's what he meant."

"Right." Jamie moved on. "Humans versus Autobots: driving skill?"

For this one, Grant took over. "Well, despite some incomplete data," he said with a glare at the twins, "we got some informative results from the analysis of the obstacle course race. We're calling this one busted too."

"Slag that!" Sideswipe protested.

"Sounds like someone disagrees with your conclusion," Jamie offered with anticipatory smirk. "Care to defend it?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." Grant grinned back. "Looking at how Sideswipe and Tory drove, we expected to see Sideswipe make Tory look like a little old lady - as Sides put it - by comparison, but they were both equally reckless, although Tory was going slightly slower. What killed Sideswipe's performance was all the moving obstacles he hit." Sideswipe groaned in protest. "Turns out that evolution gives humans certain advantages in reaction time and reflexes - our brains, specifically the cerebellum and brain stem, react to movement without us having to think about it. Autobots - all Cybertronians, really - have to process everything they see through their main processor, which is analogous to our conscious mind, and that slows down their reaction time."

"Load. Of. Slag," Sideswipe groused, but even he was powerless against Grant's mighty science. "I want a rematch," he added petulantly.

"Well, if we get enough reader mail asking for it, maybe you'll get one," Kari offered brightly, and Sideswipe lit up.

"Slag no. Never. Again." Sunstreaker growled, swatting at his brother.

"Moving on!" Jamie said before the twins could get out of hand. "Ravage being undetectable by any current technology, Adam?"

"Busted!" Adam declared. "He's invisible to almost all detection methods, but infrared lights him up nice and bright. As they say, almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades."

"And alginate balloons," Grant put in with a smug grin.

"Right, our bonus myth!" Adam laughed. "With the help of the Autobots, we busted the myth of Decepticon superiority! And their dignity."

"We were glad to help," Optimus put in, a smile touching his optics. "In most circumstances, however, I stand by my recommendation that the Decepticons be left to us."

"Is that your version of 'don't try this at home?' " asked Adam.

"Indeed."

Adam grinned and turned to a nearby camera. "You heard him. Don't poke the 'Cons."

"This has been a public service message from the Alginate Brigade!" Tory added.

"And the Chicken Cannoneers!" Bluestreak crowed from the back of the crowd.

"Tory, Bluestreak, stop giving our loyal viewers ideas."

Tory snickered at Adam's attempt at a serious expression. "So - four myths, four busts. Sounds like another classic episode in the can."

"Good work, crew," Jamie confirmed. "There's only one thing left to do."

Adam sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the one thing we have left to do?"

Jamie's mustache lifted in a grin. "Party!"

Bluestreak obligingly put his hands down on the floor for Adam and Jamie to climb into, then lifted them up and deposited them in his lap. "How's our fellow cannoneer enjoying the party?" Adam asked, lifting his soda in tribute.

Bluestreak copied the gesture with his cube of high-grade. "It's great! Everyone's having so much fun! And Jazz and Powerglide and Windcharger and Grapple are up and about so that's even better! I know Jazz would've hated to miss this party. Well, they all would, but Jazz parties like it's his job. So does Ratchet, when he gets a chance and there's nobody to worry about in the medbay, so I guess he's even happier that everyone's all fixed up. This is like our victory party, isn't it?"

Adam chuckled and patted Bluestreak's lower torso. "That's exactly what it is, Blue. A victory party."

"Except..." Bluestreak turned wide, sad optics on them. "It's also a goodbye party, isn't it? You all have to go after today. I'm going to miss you guys so much..."

"Aww, Blue." Adam hugged him tightly, his arms wrapped around Bluestreak's waist as far as they could reach; after a meaningful throat-clearing, Jamie acquiesced to pat the gunner's arm in a manly fashion. "Yeah, we gotta go back to M5 - we've still got a lot more myths to bust. But we won't say goodbye forever. If nothing else, I anticipate truckloads of emails asking us for another Autobot Special episode." He grinned. "Prime loads, even," he added, making Bluestreak giggle.

"And we can always stay in touch with email," Jamie suggested, betraying his soft, fluffy marshmallow center after all. "You are our biggest fan, after all."

"Literally," Adam opined brightly, and Bluestreak forgot to be sad in an instant.

"Oh, that makes me so happy! But I'm sure I'm not your biggest size-wise, I mean I used to be, but I'm not the biggest Autobot by a long shot and after all that's happened, I'm sure every single Autobot is a Mythbusters fan! Not as much as me though," he added with a grin of his own.

Adam laughed. "What do you think, partner? 'Autobot Seal of Approval?' Endorsed by mechanical alien heroes from across the galaxy? I can live with that."

Jamie chuckled. "Me too. Intergalactic science superstars? I can deal with that."

"By the way," Bluestreak added, "what are Grant and Spike doing?"

Adam and Jamie scanned the room. In a space full of giant robots, two small humans should have been hard to locate, but Grant and Spike were making a sufficient spectacle to draw the eye. It helped that a semicircle of Autobot spectators were gathered around them, egging them on as they swung pieces of PVC pipe in slow, dramatic arcs at each other and made strange humming noises through their teeth.

"Looks like a lightsaber duel," Jamie said thoughtfully.

"I didn't think we'd be able to get out of here without one of those," Jamie mused.

Bluestreak giggled delightedly. Across the room, Grant succeeded in pretending to chop off Spike's hand and declared himself Spike's father. "Join me and we can rule the galaxy!" he declared in a fake bass.

Spike, his hand hidden in his sleeve, appeared to think. "Okay."

"That's not how it goes!" Grant protested, but he was laughing along with Spike and the spectators.

Jamie and Adam traded rueful smiles. "Definitely gonna miss this place," Adam said.

"We'll be back."

"Oh, yeah."

Dawn, and the Mythbusters convoy left their Autobot honor guard behind at the entrance ramp to the highway. In the lead van, Kari, Grant and Tory turned to wave to Jazz, Sideswipe and Hound as long as they were in view.

"Man, I am so tired," Tory declared, turning back around and sprawling out. "I'm gonna sleep for a week when we get back."

"No," Jamie answered patiently from the driver's seat. "You are going to start right up on our next episode when we get back. We delayed a little too long at the Autobots' base and we've got a full shooting schedule."

"Slave driver," Tory groused. "I'm just gonna sleep in the van, then. If I snore, deal with it."

"Uh, Tory..."

"Nope. Don't care."

"Tory." Grant jostled his arm urgently. "You're gonna wanna be awake for this."

Tory opened his eyes. This early in the morning, there was nobody on the highway aside from the Discovery convoy - and one scowling Starscream, scrubbed clean of alginate, standing astride the asphalt with his arms crossed.

"Call the Autobots. Now," Jamie ordered tensely as he and the rest of the convoy rolled to a halt, and Kari fumbled for her cell phone. "Anyone see any other Decepticons?"

"Negative, boss," Adam said, peering out the passenger side window. "Think he's alone?"

"Not really their MO."

Starscream shifted, uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the scrutiny of the Discovery vans - a few of which were already beginning to sprout cameras. "I come in peace!" he announced, just to add to the surreality.

"What do we do?" Kari whispered tensely.

"At the risk of sounding like an Internet fad," Grant hissed, "it's a trap."

"I don't know... if this is a trap, where's the bait?" Jamie rolled down the window a crack. "What do you want?" he called.

Starscream grimaced. "I want... your autographs, Mythbusters."

"...You're kidding."

"I am not!" Starscream stomped his foot, making the road shake, then visibly got ahold of himself. "You Mythbusters have proven yourselves to be mighty warriors," he explained, the normal harshness of his voice smoothed by a lower-pitched oily quality. "The Decepticons have talked of nothing but you and your show since the battle."

"So... we impressed the Decepticons." Adam sounded surprised. "That's... pretty cool, actually."

"Don't let it go to your head." Jamie addressed Starscream again. "So you want our autographs because we're 'mighty warriors?' "

"Precisely!" Starscream allowed - or perhaps manufactured - a broad smile. "Having your autographs is a great honor and a boost to one's reputation. Why, I could rule the-!"

He stopped midway through a dramatic pose, perhaps aware of the arch expressions the humans were giving him. "Well," he groused, adopting a more normal stance, "it would get the Constructicons to shut up about their one autograph, at least!"

Jamie looked back at his passengers. "Well?"

"I'm all for it," Adam voted. "Anything for a fan."

"I've met a lot worse fanboys," Kari shrugged. "I'm in."

"Sure, why not." Tory grinned. "You only live once."

"We're all gonna die," Grant groaned, but he was already buckling his seat belt. "Anyone got a pen?"

"Anyone got some adult diapers?" Adam snarked. "I'm gonna need a change after this."

"Too much info, Adam," Jamie admonished, but he was already opening the door. "Anyway, save the adult diapers for the insurance guys. They're gonna need 'em more when they hear about this."

Optimus Prime's internal chronometer woke him up at precisely six forty-five AM local time, fifteen minutes before the start of his duty shift. He blinked blearily, uncertain at first of where he was: with the Ark's walls, ceilings, and floors all painted the same warm orange-gold, it could be easy to lose one's bearings. Prime knew enough to wait for a few seconds, and things would resolve themselves.

They did. His optical sensors and gyroscopic stabilizers synced and sent their combined data to his processor, which matched shape to memory and provided him with his position and location.

He was looking down at the rec room. Down at the rec room. From above. From high above.

"What the slag!" he burst out, struggling against whatever held him against the ceiling. That something made an ominous rip noise, and Optimus froze. His leaderly insight and wisdom told him that perhaps ripping through his bonds and doing a faceplant into the floor below was not the best option. Instead, he opened a distress signal over open comm, confident that someone would be along shortly to help him down.

He was right - someone did respond to his signal.

"Oh my Pr- how did they get that much duct tape?"

Unfortunately, that someone was Jazz.

"When I hunt down the perpetrators, I will ask them directly," Optimus growled, not liking how his saboteur's grin was growing wider and wider with each passing second. "In the meantime, just help me down."

"And get you up there without waking you up?"

"Jazz..."

"This is amazing. I'm actually kinda jealous." Jazz actually giggled. "Wait 'til Prowl sees this."

"Jazz."

"Unless he was the mastermind. Aw, I knew he had it in him-"

"JAZZ," Optimus thundered. "Get. Me. Down. NOW."

Jazz's grin went a little wild. "Uh, sure thing, boss-mech, I'll get Hoist and uh, probably Inferno-!" His vocalizer squeaked with suppressed laughter. He wheeled and ran back out into the hallway, making it out of Optimus's view before he broke down completely.

Listening to Jazz's wild shrieks and whoops of mirth, Optimus sighed. "At least morale is high," he muttered stubbornly. "At least morale is high. At least morale is high. At least morale is high..."

Wheeljack leaned over Ratchet's worktable and the supine form of (an increasingly nervous-looking) Perceptor. "So," he said, trying to sound casual, though his voice was quivering with barely-suppressed glee. "Next week, Dirty Jobs?"

Ratchet paused his work to glare at the engineer. " 'Jack, don't make me hurt you."

Mythbusters Season Nine Interlude: The Autobot Special

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