Mobius at night can be very beautiful when two lovers are walking under the stars. If you’re trying to go for a solitary run and a girl who’s obsessed with you is chasing you, then the beauty is less observed. That’s what was happening to Sonic, our favorite blue, speed demon hedgehog, as he ran from Amy Rose, the aforementioned obsessive fangirl. “Just one nighttime run,” thought Sonic, “that’s all I ask.”
“SONIC!” shouted Amy in her shrill voice. “COME BACK HERE!” The Blue Blur ran into the forest on the outskirts of Station Square. Amy followed close behind but lost him in the woods. “SONIC!” she called. “WHERE ARE YOU?!” Amy noticed a red sports car in the forest. It was shaped like a rocket with four anti-grav guiders replacing the wheels on each end. A blue hedgehog with blue eyes and a white hexagon on his forehead was looking on a data pad while leaning against it. His quill style was like Shadow’s and he wore a red sports jacket with blue jeans, black boots, white, fingerless gloves, and a medallion around his neck. “Sonic,” sighed Amy, “that’s the lamest disguise I’ve ever seen. Will you get out of that thing and help me investigate Club Dancitron?” The hedgehog blinked at Amy, then shrugged and disappeared in a flash of bluish light and pixels. The car started shaking as well. The nose cone end extended to make three separate mobile parts connected by joints. It split in half and each half swung down to the ground while the halves of the tip of the car nose extended into five long slender fingers. The rear of the car split in half down the middle, and then each half split down the middle again and made legs. The feet popped out from the insides of the legs and swung down to the ends. The front anti-grav generators swiveled 180 degrees so they were upside down. The rear anti-grav generators attached themselves to the outsides of the feet. The steel like glass canopy moved to the back of the new robot while a head popped out from the upper torso. Amy didn’t know the robot, but judging by the way the helmet on the head was blue and had antennae, I think we know who it is, don’t you?
“Well,” thought Optimus, “this isn’t awkward.” His face said otherwise. He didn’t use the universal greeting on Amy as he figured that most people would have the same reaction as Knuckles on this planet. “Erm…hi,” he began. Amy stared for a while.
“AAAHHH! WHAT THE HECK!!” she shrieked.
“Whoa! Whoa!” yelped Optimus as he raised his hands in a defensive manner, as well as trying to calm Amy. “It’s okay! It’s okay,” he assured. Amy wasn’t listening and pulled her hammer out of hammer-space. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! Lady! Put the hammer down!” shouted Optimus.
“Are you one of Robotnik’s?!” hissed Amy.
“What?!” asked Optimus in disbelief.
“Are you one of Robotnik’s robots?!” snarled Amy.
“Whoa, okay!” gulped Optimus. “I have several robotniks, yes.”
“You have several?” quizzed Amy.
“Well, lady, how do you think I operate?” asked Optimus
“Operate?!” yelped Amy. “What kind of operation do you belong to that needs several Robotniks?! Did he clone himself?!” Optimus blinked, confused at Amy’s line of questioning.
“Okay,” he remarked as he sat down cross legged. “I think there’s been a breakdown in communication. When I say ‘robotnik’, what leaps to mind with you?”
“A fat, scientific dictator that calls himself Eggman,” replied Amy.
“…Yeeaah,” sighed Optimus as he rubbed his face with his hand.
“But when I say ‘Robotnik’,” asked Amy, “what leaps to mind with you?”
“Tiny radios in my body that are connected to my central processor to keep my motions fluid like yours,” replied Optimus.
“Oh,” replied Amy as her cheeks went red and she put her hammer away.
“Yeah,” commented Optimus. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots from the planet Cybertron.”
“I’m Amy Rose,” introduced Amy. “What are you doing here on Mobius?”
“One of my men has come to your planet without my permission,” explained Optimus. “I’m trying to keep a court-martial of his chassis and bring him back to Cybertron.”
“Why does he need your permission to come here?” asked Amy.
“Because this planet was once part of a war that all Cybertronians were part of,” answered Optimus. “The Cybertronian government imposed sanctions to keep us from visiting planets that our war touched in case there was still animosity towards us.”
“So, you’re trying to get this bot out of trouble,” guessed Amy. She started thinking about something. “Maybe I can help you.”
“Huh?” asked Optimus.
“You don’t know your way around Station Square,” replied Amy. “I live here. Maybe I can help find this bot you’re looking for. If he’s as tall as you, we can spot him easily.”
“Not that easily,” countered Optimus. “That changing-from-car-to-robot thing I did, that’s something all Cybertronians can do. On top of that, we can make a synthetic form to look like we’re from your planet. That hedgehog you saw, that was me. My mind transferred to that artificial body once the atoms in the air were rearranged. I don’t know what form Jazz took.” Amy perked up.
“Did you say Jazz?” she asked.
“Yep, that’s the bot’s name,” confirmed Optimus.
“Does Jazz make light shows from things on his shoulders whenever he’s scratching at a DJ table?” asked Amy.
“…Yes,” ventured Optimus. Then it hit him. “You know where he is.”
“I know where he is,” confirmed Amy. “He’s the owner and DJ at Club Dancitron. I went there last night and felt that there was something unusual about the DJ. I just didn’t know that he was a robot in disguise. I wanted to investigate with my darling Sonic, but he just ran off.”
“I think we can work something out,” grinned Optimus. “Let me just change and we’ll be on our way.” Optimus changed back into vehicle mode and activated his synthetic body. “Let’s rock ‘em out!” cheered Optimus. Amy arched an eyebrow. “Er, I was trying to make a cool ‘move out’ phrase,” mumbled Optimus.
“Needs work,” remarked Amy. Optimus shrugged. The canopy opened. The car could seat six people. The driver sat in the middle while the passengers sat behind or to either side of him or her. Optimus got into the driver’s seat while Amy took the front right passenger seat. The canopy closed and Optimus moved onto the street. Amy told him where to turn until they came to a problem that still wasn’t solved.
“Traffic!” hissed Optimus. “I hate traffic! Cybertron has the worst traffic record in the universe! I swear I see at least 200 accidents a day whenever I’m on the speedway!”
“And I thought having living cars would be better,” remarked Amy. “Guess a lack of common sense is everywhere in the galaxy.”
“In the universe,” corrected Optimus.
“Wow,” commented Amy.
“Yeah, my mom always says common sense isn’t common, and there are moments when I agree with her,” sighed Optimus.
“I meant to ask,” interjected Amy, “how old are you?”
“Let’s see, in Cybertronian years, or stellar cycles,” replied Optimus, “I’m about 125.57. In Mobian years, I’m 150.”
“150?!” yelped Amy.
“Yep,” chuckled Optimus, “you’re looking at the youngest Prime in Cybertronian history.” Amy was about to register more surprise when a hologram of an angry wolf’s head popped up inside the car.
“WOULD YOU MOVE!!” he roared.
“DO YOU NOT SEE THE WALL OF NON MOVING CARS IN FRONT OF US?!” Optimus roared back. He terminated communications.
“I don’t understand,” quizzed Amy, “why don’t you engage flight mode?”
“If I did that,” replied Optimus, “you would have to get out, I would have to change, then I’d have to pick you up in my hand, then it would take 10 of your minutes to warm up the thrusters and get any lift while standing still, and that would take up a lot of my power reserves. We’ll have to suffer through traffic.”
“No, I mean activate your vehicle mode’s flight mode,” elaborated Amy.
“I don’t HAVE a vehicle mode flight mode,” argued Optimus.
“Look in the sky,” instructed Amy. Now Optimus was even more confused. He looked up as she asked and saw things flying in the air. He looked a little closer and saw flying cars. Some of them were like his vehicle mode and some were like semi-trucks. “All vehicles come with a standard issue flight mode,” explained Amy. “They don’t have the necessary power to go higher than 200 stories in the air. If road traffic is too awful, just say ‘Engage flight mode’ and it’ll take you to the skyways.”
“That’s so cool!” cheered Optimus. “I gotta try it out! Engage flight mode!” Optimus twisted his driving joysticks a full 180 degrees.
“Optimus!” cried Amy. “Not that much!” The car shot straight up and almost knocked a couple of cars out of the sky.
“FRACK!” swore Optimus. He gained control of the car, but his flying was very shaky.
“I was going to tell you about the auto-drive on the thing,” sighed Amy.
“Wait, this thing can drive itself?” asked Optimus.
“Yeah, but only on the…” began Amy.
“Auto-drive!” interrupted Optimus. Nothing happened. “Activate auto-pilot!” ordered Optimus. Still nothing. “Auto-flyer, engage!” Optimus was still on manual. “How do I turn on the auto-drive?”
“It doesn’t work in flight mode!” replied Amy.
“I could really use a steering wheel!” snarled Optimus.
“We don’t have steering wheels!” shouted Amy. “We have driver sticks!” They argued for a few seconds until Amy pointed out the rooftop landing for the night club Dancitron. Amy and Optimus hopped out of the car and walked toward the main door when two beefy warthogs stopped them. “Don’t worry, you two,” assured Amy, “he’s with me.”
“Sorry, Miss Rose,” replied one of the guards in a Brooklyn accent, “but da kid ain’t on da list.”
“Well,” asked Optimus, “how do I get on the list?”
“You’ll need to speak with the DJ,” answered a voice. Optimus and Amy turned and saw Sonic walking towards them.
“And you are?” asked Optimus.
“I’m Sonic, Sonic the Hedgehog!” Sonic gave his usual cocky smirk.
“Oh, so you’re the Sonic that Amy was talking about,” realized Optimus.
“That’s me!” chuckled Sonic. He then saw Amy next to Optimus and remembered running from her an hour ago. Amy looked very red in the face. “Uh oh,” he gulped.
“SONIC!” screamed Amy. “HOW COME YOU MADE ME LOSE YOU IN THE WOODS?!”
“Wait,” yelped Sonic, “I can explain!”
“Stow it, both of you,” sighed Optimus. Amy just glared, and then turned around huffing in annoyance. “Now then,” called Optimus to the bouncers, “what do I have to do to get on the list?”
“Like Sonic said,” answered the first bouncer, “you’ll need to talk to da boss, but he’s scratchin’ away. He’ll be doin’ it ‘til closing, and then he hits the sack. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“I don’t think you realize that I need to see him now,” insisted Optimus as he flashed his wallet. The badge had an Autobot symbol on it. The bouncers blinked in surprise, then raised their pistols. Sonic, Amy, and Optimus stepped back.
“Hey, whoa!” called Sonic.
“Guido, Melvin,” protested Amy, “put the guns away!”
“Look, pal,” said Guido to Optimus, “it’s nothing personal. The boss just doesn’t want to go back.”
“Dude,” gulped Optimus, “there are some things you don’t know about your boss.”
“We know what planet he’s from,” replied Melvin, “we saw him change.”
“Oh, you know about Cybertronians,” sighed Optimus, “that sparks.”
“Look, you’re nice and all,” continued Melvin, “but we can’t let our boss see you. We don’t want you to arrest him.”
“Look, I’m trying to keep a court-martial off his chassis,” assured Optimus. “Let me see him, and we can all walk away from this unharmed.”
“Sorry, dude,” sighed Guido, “Nothing personal.” The bouncers opened fire. Sonic, Amy, and Optimus scattered and hid behind separate cars. Optimus hid behind his vehicle mode and drew his own pistol. He deliberately missed Guido and Melvin. He didn’t want to hurt them.
“You realize that you have no cover, right?” he called out. “This place is pretty open.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” called a voice. “Weapons down!” A male porcupine with his quills in dreadlocks stepped out of the club. He had a muscle shirt with blue vertical stripes running down the front and white baggy cargo pants. He had a blue visor over his eyes and fingerless gloves. “Dudes, let’s not harsh the party here.” directed the porcupine. “Lower your guns and we can talk like the civilized dudes I know we are. Now, what’s the problem here?”
“Dat hedgehog over dere is part of your people,” replied Guido. “We’re not letting him take you.”
“Jazz,” called Optimus, “I’m not here to arrest you. I just want to talk.”
“Guido, Melvin,” ordered Jazz, “put the guns down. That’s Optimus Prime, my boss and the boss of all the Autobots. We’re friends. He’s a little brash, but he is reasonable.”
“Brash?” protested Optimus. He popped out of hiding and holstered his gun. “Excuse me!”
“It’s okay, dude,” assured Jazz. “What can I do for you?”
“Boss,” called Guido, “what about da partiers here?”
“The firefight just killed the mood,” hissed Jazz. “Thanks for that!”
“Sorry,” said Guido, sheepishly.
“Anyway,” replied Jazz, “Optimus, that whole thing about sneaking to Earth, Mobius now, I can explain. You see, someone is digging up Cybertronian corpses and disturbing their place of rest.” Optimus raised an eye ridge.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“It was a few Earth months ago,” reported Jazz. “I made several requests to you through Tarkana-5, but apparently they didn’t get through.” Optimus scrunched his face and rubbed his chin.
“That doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “She’s usually so diligent about telling me about this.”
“Who’s Tarkana-5?” asked Sonic.
“My secretary,” answered Optimus, “as well as my girlfriend’s cousin. Something doesn’t add up here.” Optimus shook his head. “Never mind, we better contact Iacon.”
“What?” asked Amy.
“The capital city on Cybertron,” explained Jazz. He turned to Optimus. “Do you have an intergalactic transmitter?”
“Got one right here,” answered Optimus as he pointed to his trunk.
“Let’s get Iacon on the horn after the clubbers leave,” suggested Jazz.
“Good thinking,” replied Optimus. It took a good half hour, but the clubbers cleared the place and soon the Autobots, the bouncers, Sonic, and Amy were the only ones left. Optimus motioned for Jazz to help him get something out of his trunk. He opened it and Jazz helped him get out a strange machine with a satellite dish on top. They took it inside and hooked it up to the DJ table. Optimus fiddled with a few buttons until the satellite dish pointed up to the ceiling. “Optimus Prime calling Cybertronian Elite Guard, come in.” A human in 1700’s French Noblemen attire appeared in a bluish hologram. “Wheeljack?” asked Optimus.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Prime,” greeted the robot.
“Where’s Ultra Magnus?” quizzed Optimus.
“Something had come up,” replied Wheeljack in his French accent. “The Throttlebots had hijacked the Harbinger and he, Megatronus, Perceptor, and Jhiaxus were on board to try and turn it around. They have not reported in yet.”
“Well, Ultra Magnus can take care of himself,” figured Optimus. “Us Pax brothers are a hardy bunch. In any case, I found Jazz.”
“C’est merveilleux,” replied Wheeljack, “but he’s still facing a court-martial. Have you got anything out of him?”
“Someone is digging up the final resting places of Cybertronians from the war here,” answered Optimus. “Tarkana-5 hadn’t given me the copies of Jazz’s requests to leave for this planet.”
“That explains a few things,” mused Wheeljack. “Tarkana-5 has abandoned her post. She hasn’t reported in for a while since you’ve gone.”
“The mystery deepens,” mumbled Optimus. “In any case, I think that should clear Jazz’s name.”
“Oui, Monsieur,” confirmed Wheeljack. “I will inform the Elite Guard and clear the court martial charges.”
“Good work,” Optimus grinned. Jazz did as well. “We’ll give the dead a proper send-off and leave when we’re done.” Wheeljack grimaced.
“A lot of warriors died there,” he recalled. “Autobots and Decepticons alike died to finish the war quickly. It would take months on Earth to send them all off even with the proper equipment.”
“Which we need right now,” replied Optimus.
“I don’t think the High Council will agree with it,” sighed Wheeljack. “I’ll do what I can, but even if they agree, sending the equipment will take a lot of time.”
“I understand,” replied Optimus. “Do what you can. I’ll tie up loose ends here.
“Oui, Monsieur Prime,” answered Wheeljack. “Wheeljack, out.” The hologram fizzled out.
“Hm,” muttered Jazz, “looks like there’s going to be political grandstanding before a vote.”
“So it seems,” agreed Optimus. “We better get started and start investigating. I’ll call the others.”
“Who came with you?” asked Jazz.
“Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Ratchet, and Ironhide,” replied Optimus.
“Practically a small squadron,” chuckled Jazz. Optimus went out to his vehicle mode and took a small handset in his hand.
“Optimus to Ironhide,” he called, “come in.”
“This is Ironhide,” came the Texan drawl. “Go ahead Prime.”
“I’ve located Jazz and have cleared his name,” reported Optimus. “We have a new mission though.”
“What’s that?” asked Ironhide.
“Someone’s digging up the final resting places of Autobots and Decepticons. I don’t know the reason, but we can’t have that,” affirmed Optimus.
“So once the Elite Guard convinces the council to send the vaporizer, we should be able to give the dead a proper send off,” guessed Ironhide.
“You got it.” Optimus heard something strange over the radio. “What’s that sound?”
“That’s the sound of feet,” replied Ironhide. Optimus noted a rhythm to the footsteps and guessed on how many pairs of feet there were.
“’Hide, is that an army marching?” he asked.
“A robot army’s marching on Station Square,” reported Ironhide. “I’m in their way at the moment.”
“Ironhide,” ordered Optimus, “do not engage! Repeat, do not engage!”
“Too late for that Prime,” replied Ironhide, “they saw me and are leveling guns towards me.”
“At least, wait for backup!” protested Optimus.
“Prime,” answered Ironhide, “remember when you were a little Orion Pax and I would visit? I sat you down on my knee and told you stories about me and my partners, the Wreckers. Do you remember what we always said?”
“Ironhide, no!” pleaded Optimus.
“Wreckers don’t call for backup, they call for cleanup! Ironhide out.” Ironhide ended the communications channel.
“I have a feeling that being in command’s a lot harder than I thought,” sighed Optimus to no one in particular.
