#(also katie

[transconnerkent-blog]

QUINN ❤ ICONIC. You and Xana are my absolute faves. 😘😘

Katie you’re my fave ❤️ Next to my wife of course

[evilsciencebros]

[[For reasons that are beyond me, I decided to make a little drabble for all three of my muses

I’m not even gonna bother with a plot synopsis because it’s something I wrote just for me and it’s not made with any other audience in mind.]]

~

“Put me down, you dome-headed freak!” The femme screams, thrashing despite the stasis cuffs effectively paralysing her from the neck down.

“Stop struggling or I’ll be forced to gag you.” Warned the Decepticon as he stalked through the halls of New Kaon with the femme slung over his shoulder.

The toxic warrior, Oil Slick, had just returned from another mission with Team Chaar. An important Council member official was to attend an annual race as a representative between the Autobot commonwealth and the Neutral faction. Their task had been a simple one; find the target and bring them back for interrogation.

However, amongst the rubble Oil Slick happened to come across something very curious and decided to bring it back with him to the lab while General Strika delivered their prize directly to Lord Megatron. Unfortunately for Oil Slick, the object of his interest was attached to a very loud and wordy Autobrat.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble when the Elite Guard find out what you did on Vesper II. Do you even realise how close I was to finally beating their top speedster? You ruined my first win of the season!”

Muting his audials, Oil Slick let the Autobrat vent to her sparks content as they passed through the doors of the science wing, where he spotted Scalpel cleaning up the remains of no doubt another one of his unfortunate experiments.

“Doctor, I come bearing you a gift,” he announced, dropping the Autobrat onto the medical berth like a heavy sack.

Hitting the table hard, the femme winced at her dented helm and glared up at her kidnapper. “You wanna takes these cuffs off and fight me like a real mech, you coward!”

“This one certainly is scrappy,” Scalpel muses as he washes his servos of dried energon and makes his way over to the said gift. Examining her with a magnified lense, he says “She has a unique frame type; I’ll give you that. Although, I hardly see anything special about this one.”

The femme wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or not, so she instead opted to snap her dentae at the tiny doctor when he scuttled too close to her person.

“That’s what I thought, until something interesting caught my scanners in the middle of the fight.” He explained, tapping her chassis. “Through all the chaos and destruction, this worthless Autobrat managed to not only come out unscathed, but predict what I was going to do before I even did it.”

He remembered the ambush only cycles ago. A lot of Autobots had gathered in one place to witness a pointless ground race. The spot had been ideal for Oil Slick, the smallest and stealthiest of the Team Chaar, to sneak into the arena and grab the council member. He made it all the way to the viewing box unseen, canister at hand to take down the guards protecting his target. But just moments before he threw it and the arena erupted into chaos, the femme, taking the lead in the race and moments away from crossing the finish line, skidded to an abrupt stop, pointed right at the viewing box, which she shouldn’t have been able to see form where she was standing, and started shouting for everyone to evacuate.

The Autobrat saw him?

Her distraction caught him off guard and it was all the time the guards needed to check their surroundings and spot him. Cover blown, he moved to throw the canister, but the guards had been quicker and fired back. The room was too tight for him to manoeuvre in and they already had their weapons aimed at him. The plan going up in smokes, Oil Slick got in comm-link with General Strika and they immediately initiated plan B: Blow up the stadium!

Blackout and Cyclonus flew over the race track as Strika and Spittor blocked off the main entrances. The entire arena erupted with screams as everyone panicked and shoved their way towards the exits. Explosions were fired and the guards were not prepared for this kind of onslaught.

Through all the chaos, even as Oil Slick chased after the retreating council member and their guards, his optics never once left the femme, who was still standing and trying to help however she could. He even caught her running up to one of the Elite Guard members and shoving them out of the way before they could be hit by ricocheting bullets.

Their target didn’t escape though and with some minor difficulty, Spittor had been the one to finally grab them and restrained them in his mouth. Target secured, General Strika gave the order for them to retreat and both fliers gave them cover as they made their escape. Oil Slick however broke team formation, optics locked on a certain orange femme with wheels.

Using his speed to his advantage he raced up to her and transforming into robot mode, unleashed his weapon and struck. She had not time to react before the chain wrapped around her neck and he dragged her across the gravel, slamming her against the nearest pillar.

“You didn’t see that one coming now did you, Autobrat?” he smirked down at the unconscious femme and threw her limp form over his shoulder.

Reuniting with his teammates, Oil Slick got the scolding of a lifetime from Strika for messing up a simple plan, but if his theory about this Autobot was correct, then depending on what Scalpel uncovered, he might just yet redeem himself.

The doctor had since secured the femme’s limbs onto his operating table and ran a full frame diagnostics. “Fascinating, there are traces of transwarp energy surrounding her EM field,” Scalpel awed as he looked at the holo-screen.

Interest piqued, Oil Slick leant over the doctor to read the results for himself. “Where is it coming from though?”

Scalpel went through the databanks but couldn’t find anything out of the unusual that could explain the anomaly surrounding the mysterious patient, all accept for a cryptic patched around her abdomen, directly under her spark chamber.

“We must open her up at once,” he announced, servo unfolding to reveal a circular buzz saw.

“Open me up?!” the forgotten femme screams, tugging on her binds. “What do you mean by, open me up?!”

“Exactly what you think I mean,” Scalpel said, scuttling along the machinery so he could land on the patient’s chassis. “I plan on dissecting you up with this and find out what it is you are hiding from me.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” she begs as the saw skins her paint job. “Aren’t you suppose to threaten me until I cave in and tell you myself?”

“No time for that,” he waves off. “It will be much quicker for me to dig around and find out the details for myself.”

The femme was about to protest further until she was hit with a mild Electromagnetic pulse, which numbed her sensors and left her feeling sluggish as Scalpel operated, effortlessly undoing the seems that enclosed her spark chamber, before she finally heard the high pitched whirling of the saw and it connecting with metal.

Oil Slick acted as nurse as Scalpel loosened the joint and peeled back the layers so he could get into her inner working mechanisms. Following the fuel lines that connected her spark chamber to the rest of her operating systems, he found the unusual device lodged into her abdomen and began marking the incisions needed to remove it.

“This device is not artificial, it’s biology” he noted out loud. “The transwarp energy is originating from her personal mod.”

“Can you remove it?” Oil Slick asked. Not all personal mods were the same but it wasn’t uncommon for one to be fused directly to the protoform.

“I can, whether she’s at risk of going offline in the process is another matter entirely.” Scalpel highly doubted the device was connected to anything vital, but the lasting damage to her protoform could be just as deadly.

Oh well. At least they weren’t losing anything important.

A sharp knife lightly ran across the edges of her cables until it rested upon the main fuel line connecting it to the spark chamber. Scalpel was about to make the first incision when the device flickered with life and he felt a fluctuation of pure spark energy pumping through her tubes.

Optics flashing from electric blue to golden amber, the femme activated her time mod and watched in slow motion as the two scientists above her froze in place. All sound muted until she couldn’t even hear the pulsing of her own spark. Colours faded but before she could suffocate, the build-up of energon in her personal mod dispersed in a flurry of burning yellow and all three of them were forcefully pulled backwards in time.

Rewind!

Transwarped back in time by only a few nano klicks was enough to send Oil Slick and Scalpel to their knees as they recovered from the journey.

“What just happened?” Oil Slick vents heavily. Checking his internal chronometer, he quickly notices it’s off by a few seconds. Glancing over at the femme lying limp on the mediberth, he freezes when he spots her chassis is perfectly intact, without so much as a single scratch from the surgical saw.

“Simply amazing,” Scalpel beams, the tremors slowly wearing off. Clasping his tiny servos together in pure delight he turned to his holo-screen again. “Her entire frame is generating transwarp energy.”

“Transwarp fields apply to space bridges, not whatever it was she just did!” Oil Slick countered, gesturing the prisoner’s healed frame.

“That’s where you’re mistaken, my friend.” Scalpel teases and types a few commands onto his keyboard. Bringing the screen closer for Oil Slick to examine, he pointed at the new data running rapidly at the sudden spike in her EM field. “Yes, as you pointed out, transwarp energy is the process that links one location to another. However, if one views it from more than a simple two-dimension perspective, then it is entirely possible to link two set points in time rather than location.”

“Time travel,” Oil Slick awed. Looking back on the encounter at the race track, everything that happened suddenly made a lot more sense. “To think the Ministry of Science has actually perfected and package the ability to jump through time, and they’ve wasted it on a speedster?”

What was Perceptor and his team doing at the Ministry of Science?

Then again, this is the same faction that developed a femme with the ability to replicate the weapon of any opponent she came into direct contact with. I guess the luxury of winning the war also meant you could develop advance steps in technology and have no need to ever use them.

“Lord Megatron will be so pleased when he finds out about this.”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up just yet,” Scalpel chastised as he further examined the data. “This Cybertronian frame does not have the spark capability to travel more than a few nano klicks through the time stream at any given. And by the looks of it, it’s a one-way system. Our new friend can go backwards in time but not forwards.”

“So it’s of no practical use?” Oil Slick vents, slumping against the workbench.

“I didn’t say that. If I could find a way to harness this power and duplicate it, just imagine the possibilities. Soldiers that can foresee attacks before they happen. Spies who can gather information without risk of getting caught.”

“A few nano klicks would hardly make a difference.” Oil Slick argued.

“That depends purely on your limited imagine, as our new friend can no doubt attest to. Although, with a few experiments and a larger frame to contain the energy, it may be possible for me to extend the time frame to a full cycle.”

Their conversation was cut short however when the forgotten femme suddenly lunged off the table and grabbed one of the surgical tools. Oil Slick just barely manages dodging the surgical saw as she skated past him and slammed her servos against the sealed doors.

“How did she escape her bonds?” Scalpel gapped.

Oil Slick didn’t need to think too hard about that one. Judging by the current time in relationship to his chronometer, she deliberately travelled back far enough to the point before Scalpel shackled her to the berth.

Unable to get the door open, the femme presses her back against the steel metal and holds the makeshift weapon in front of her.

“Open the door!”

Oil Slick doesn’t even acknowledge the order and strides over to her.

“Not another step closer!” she orders, turning on the saw and gripping it tightly.

Oil Slick pauses briefly. While he was certain he could easily disarm her, now that he knew what her time mod was capable of, she was too much of a wild card for him to properly predict her next move.

“You won’t be able to hurt me with that,” he threatens, a small hiss of vapour escaping his exhausts. She saw what he was capable of back at the arena, she knows what his toxins can do to her. “Now put the saw down before you hurt yourself.”

Her servos shake, but he doesn’t lower the weapon, optics darting randomly about trying to find an alternative exit. Not finding one she does the only thing she can think of and turns the saw over so it’s pointed at the chassis. “Take another step and I’ll destroy it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “If you destroy it you have no bargaining tool.”

“It’s connected to my Spark. If I go out it goes with me and you’ll never get your crummy servos on it.” She counters, a smug grin spreading across her faceplate. She wasn’t the suicidal type, but if she could trick them she just might stand a chance, “So, what’s it going to be?”

Oil Slick stares her down, more than willing to call her bluff, Scalpel however was not so confident and was wriggling his servo together anxiously. He takes another step and Scalpel panics, tapping the keyboard and opening the lab door.

“Thanks Doc, I owe you one,” she winks before her wheels spin backwards and she races out the door, blowing a kiss after him.

“She’s getting away!”

“She won’t get far,” Scalpel reassures, quickly climbing onto Oil Slick’s shoulder as he transforms and gives chase.

The orange motor-trike speeds through the facility, taking full advantage of her smaller frame and the Decepticon’s wider hallways to skid turns at higher speeds without losing any momentum. Reaching a fork in her path, Autobot doesn’t even slow down already taking the right turn, only to bump right into a bunch of guards on patrol.

Rewind!

Transwarping back to the original hallway again, she keeps her speed and turns left. This continues for a while, with her running straight into danger and reversing back in time so she can dodge it. This method worked well for her and keeps her at least one step ahead of her persuers (Not that they could keep up with her. The tall one was fast, but she was faster.).

She doesn’t get to far though as the constant use of her mod puts a strain on her spark and she’s forced to check her fuel levels. No good. She already used up most of her energon during that big race and helping everyone get out of the crossfire. She didn’t have enough time jumps left in her.

Too distracted, the racer doesn’t notice the bot in front of her until she literally bumps right into them.

Crashing, the femme transforms back into robot mode and lands on her back, rubbing her aching helm. She sits up to shout at the large oath blocking her path, only for the colour to drain from her faceplate.

“Lord Megatron!” Scalpel gasps as he and Oil Slick skidded to a halt before their leader and transformed back into robot mode. Apparently, Megatron was already finished with Strika and the captured council member.

The Lord doesn’t so much as look at the scientist, instead glaring down at the reckless Autobot that run right into his pedes. Who in turn had had forgot all about escaping and now stared up at the warlord with wide optics. Her shock finally wearing off, she spins around to crawl to her feet but a ped presses down on her back and effectively pining her to the floor.

“Doctor what is this thing and why is it running through my base unsupervised?” he demanded sternly, addressing Scalpel directly and ignoring the squirming femme under his heel.

“Uh, yes well,” Scalpel adjusted his half-moon spectacles, a nervous habit of his whenever he was feeling flustered. “She is my new research specimen. A very valuable find by Oil Slick I must add. Her mould type is very unique and she possess a her unique transwarp ability. The specimen even used it to escape her bindings and navigate through the facility undetected. I’m currently in the process of acquiring this ability of hers and replicating it-”

“My name is Lickety-Split!” the Autobrat spits out. “And I don’t belong to you, your platonic life partner or your failure of War Tyrant! Now let me go!”

The ped presses down harder and Lickety-Split feels her back plating begin to crack under the strain. Both scientists visibly squirm, but say nothing in her defence.

“Your specimen is more trouble than its worth, Doctor,” he scowled darkly. “Allow me to put it out of its misery.”

He grinds his heel down onto her back plating and she claws at the ground, shrieking pathetically as he threatens to compact her.

“W-wait!” Scalpel cries out, much to Oil Slick’s horror.

Megatron’s glare snaps towards Scalpel, furious that the insect had the nerve to command his Liege.

“I mean,” he quickly composes himself. “Lord Megatron, this specimen could be of great value to my research and the Decepticon cause. I admit she deserves to be punished for such rudeness, and I promise you she will receive it while under my care, but I humbly request you don’t destroy her personal mod.”

His concern for her personal safety was touching.

Megatron goes silent for a few klicks assessing the situation as his optics flicker to each of the three who were no doubt holding their vents, waiting his inevitable decision.

“Take better care of your possessions in the future, Doctor.” The pedes finally lifts and the femme lets out a sputtered gasp.

Like a wounded animal, she doesn’t dare move, not resisting when Oil Slick quickly moves in to grab her. If anything she cling to his arm as he lifts her back to her pedes.

“If she is as powerful as you claim then I expect to be kept inform of your progress, Doctor. I will be the one to judge her worth and if she does not live up to my expectations, I will remove her from your charge.” He stares down at her with burning optics. A silent promise that if she did not prove to be valuable as Scalpel claims, he would have his new toy terminated personally.

“Yes. Thank you my Lord,” Both Scalpel and Oil Slick bow respectively, Oil Slick going as far as to grab the Autobrat by the helm and forcing her to bow as well.

Megatron grunts in approval. “Good day Scalpel, Oil Slick. LS.” Upon hearing her nickname, Lickety-Split’s helm snaps up. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through her fuel lines or the lack of energon, but when their optics met, for a sliver of a moment she could have sworn a smirk twitched in the corner of his lip plates.

Turning away, Megatron continues in the direction he had been heading before he was interrupted. The three of them were all but forgotten as he goes to deal with more pressing matters. LS stares after him long after Scalpel and Oil Slick finally intake a much needed vent.

“You are either the bravest Autobrat I’ve ever met, or the most suicidal,” Oil Slick scowled irritably, servo running down his faceplate.

“Is anything broken?” Scalpel asks like an overly emotional carrier as he examines her newly dented frame.

“You mean besides everything you’ve already done to me yourself?” she snarks back.

Oil slick slaps the cuffs back on her wrist and disables her again before throwing her over his shoulder. Stalking back in the direction of the lab, Oil Slick was being to question if the Autobrat was more trouble than she was actually worth.

“Not to worry,” Scalpel chirps from his new position on top of her helm. “Once we get back to the lab I’ll patch up that wound and then after you’ve fully recovered I can begin reverse engineering your personal mod-”

Lickety-Split sulked further into Oil Slick’s back strut as the tiny doctor listed in great detail what he was going to do to her. So this was her life from now on? Playing guinea pig to a midget scientist and his toxic assistant?

At least she was still online. As long as Scalpel couldn’t remove her time mod, she had something to bargain with. It just depended on how much she was willing to put her life on the line.

For the moment however, she would play the role of the obedient prisoner.

Until her next escape attempt that is…

…

End?

~

(Actually yes, this is exactly where the story ends because I’m too lazy to write a sequel. I do however have another drabble I want to write out in the future where Lickety-Split is actually the offspring of Oil Slick and Scalpel, but that one is even longer.)