This is Crazy, but I'm in the Bayverse!

This is Crazy: Book 1. I have seen all three movies, Transformers movies. A Transformer, in the fandom of Transfans, means gigantic alien machines that can scan vehicles and become them, hence, becoming Robots in Disguise. They are not the powerboxes that you see on the poles. They have sparks, which generate their personality and life being extremely vital to living itself. And then there's the Allspark, the cube. I have seen the first movie several times directed by Micheal Bay, the worst director ever. Why? I'll get to that, as soon as this Dark of The Moon is about to end.

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6. This is a song, now lets do a dare Soundwave

A week after arriving to the Bayverse, things were just too boring. Soo what do you figure that can happen with a girl who currently knows Tick Tock by heart  almost and wants to spice up the entertainment. Literally, since a few Cons from the first movie survived they were useful to get Soundwave’s frequency. You know the one who was kinda-sorta re-introduced in Transformers Animated as a boombox and was used as a satellite in the second movie.

            The robot, who does not speak a lot.

            “Ivy to….umm..” First time using an intercom, this is…so unbelievable. “Ivy to Soundwave, can you transmit Tick Tock by kasha mixed with the trolol song in Cybertron?”  It’s a long shot. Vaguely remember if Soundwave speaks or not, cause if he can’t speak and stuff that is so a rip-off over Bumblebee using his radio and  TFP counterpart beeping.

            Beep beep.

            I look at the screen seeing some Cybertronian codes.

            “....FRAG YOU MICHEAL BAY!” I shake my fist at nothing. “AND FRAG my fadey memory!”

            Honestly, I didn’t know Soundwave was the satellite in the movie until I read about it online.

            Taking a deep breath and relaxing to control my anger, I decided to code it out by reasonable-guesses.

            “This must mean….E...” My eyes squeeze to see it. Maaaaaan, Cybertronian writing is so much different from the movie. It’s like ancient curly-alien writing with it a little similarity to the movie-version yet not too close.  The text quickly becomes apparent his answer is along the lines of: Yes, does Megatron want it?

 This took me several minutes to contemplate

…Well…wait. Actually I can’t read Cybertronian writing…..I can—what?  I shook my head.  My mind just decoded the word ‘Megatron’.  Could it be from the rounded circular objects put into my arm? That could be a possibility remembering Cybertronian technology is more advanced than human technology, Quintesissons can have something totally brainwashing in its programming getting rid of organic based parts. Does that mean it could…actually hurry up?  My eyes drift over to the swelled up right arm.  Could the Decepticons not notice? If it becomes complete…I may not even be ME anymore, little less deflecting to the Quintessions and giving them information to taking down those ‘Cons.

Ivy halt this!

If it overcomes my organic side and replaces--…

Stop it. stop it. Stop it.

I clench my head.

“Stop being a worrywart…you’ll find a way to get those…balls out.”  I put my hand over my right arm. “They won’t notice.”

            As dull-brain a glitch-head can be….why not?

            I put my left hand onto the comnlink over my ear.

            “Yeeep!” I said, pushing back the worrying thoughts in my head. “This is a song, Soundwave, and I dare you to  transmit it into the main headquarters where all the Decepticons are lazing about!” I look in all directions.  “Megatron personally said he wanted the men entertained.”

            Truthfully Megatron had wanted them to be training for combat.

            The next coded words read:  Affirmative.

            “Thanks Sound!” I said, feeling giggly and hysterical when ending the comnlink.

            Next there has to be a disco ball in the middle of the lazing around area.

            “Computer, duplicate a disco ball please, in the lazy area.” I got off the very big console object; Oooh things are going to get so epic. Dancing wise, because who knows IF those Decepticons know how to dance. If this doesn’t work then I will just play games with them, things people might not consider capable of robot participation.

            Megatron and a few other Decepticons are out getting some other things done, directly not on Cybertron.

            Let’s see how well these newbies can do on the dance floor.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The Fallen is studying the schematics of the shell currently in progress, and some of the best Decepticon scientists/medics (Some are just as small as Wheelie) are busy getting some cables and joints fused together. It’s a tough construction, but, they had been firmly told by The Fallen it is for something that will happen when he is not around.  The Fallen’s heavy, rounded red optics review the incoming project’s advancing on the clear light blue screen hovered inches away from his faceplate.

            “It must be ready.” He growls, impatient. “When…. I am not operational.”

            One of the small decepticons who are based for engineering and medical related factors poked its helmet from above the large armor. “Wheelie’s been giving us the best data for human anatomy and the risks that could be held—“This one is cut off by the Fallen, who unduly did not fear the worst.

            “There won’t be risks.” The Fallen’s voice sends shivers down the smaller Decepticons. “When the time has come for the exposed….” He brings up a hologram of some sort of planned model. He retrieved it from The Girl, aka, Ivy’s memory banks when she had been unconscious. That single memory gave him an ideal perspective to what could be a…brilliant plan. He, The Fallen, had his part in helping this plan’s be initiated and the rest be taken on by the path that a mind from a universe may not tackle on as logical. Actually, what’s part of the plan is not really specified.

The plan’s somewhat, short description may be confusing.

It had good reason to be vaguely detailed. Because The Fallen had learned a  grounded-female-teenage-mind from another universe would one day sweep in and change the fate of many and the lives of several, this telling had strung out of the constellations and rumors coming out his seven brother’s during the solar cycles he roamed.  People say stars can’t be trusted. However the Fallen kept a watchful eye on minds from other universe that could have landed into this, he could tell by their reactions toward him and his minions who encountered them several years ago building the Sun Harvester. They knew about the future and yet none fitted the ideal description to the one who will come.

          “It will be the day of judgment…For the Traveler” The Fallen finishes, his left-ancient claw taps on the arm of his chair.

            The short Decepticon’s share puzzled looks to each other.

            This shell will be done by November of next year if they kept up at this slow progress.

            “Your replacements will be better suited for what may come…” The mentioning of replacements sends an electrical current that shocked the smaller and not really good motor-skilled Decepticons. The small, almost fried Decepticons slowly try getting up on their feet. The body type he wanted to be made is not easy for small builders to complete, since he wanted it to be protoformed; just an empty shell that needed its life sunk in. “I do not see you ending quite well at this point.”

            Megatron and Starscream did not even know why they were getting some smaller Decepticons nor about The Fallen’s plans for Ivy.  The short, small Decepticons fearfully rush for their lives on what they could accomplish in just a few hours before Megatron and the replacements arrived.

            The Fallen laughs.

            “And it won’t be so pretty at all.”

            The Fallen hears music.

            “What is that noise coming from?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           

            My fingers snap. The disco ball lowered form the ceiling and, the time of any-con’s lives really started heating up.

            “Tick tock on the clock,

             Wake up in the morning,

            Feeling like P  Diddy.”

            The gigantic robots are standing there confused, when I held a microphone like device. This means the attempt at singing the entire song wilding up the Newbies will be a terrific challenge to all. This eerie feeling crawls up my back knowing something like this could be written by some person for an entirely different series, something like this without tick tock and trolol.

            “So I GET A  bottle of jack.

Boy’s break my phones, phones,phones,”

            I had to get myself really into it. The next thing I did is clapping my hand.

            “Tr-ro-tro-olo-olo!” I raised the microphone to the air. “Sing it with me!”

            The Ruggedy, out of place floor becomes something like a dance floor having tiles and multiple colors. The difference here, in this case, there is not a DJ living on this planet. Don’t really know if there are some Decepticons who can DJ two records and make some awesome sound-effects at once.

            Tro-llolo!

            “Going to a party,

            Don’t start,

            Until I come in”

            I raised the microphone right at a shy (Likely, he’s got a red face) Decepticon.

            T—T-Trolo!

            Doing the moonwalk is not that hard.

            “Join the dance party!” I chime in, waving a hand at the Decepticon looking confused if they should join or not. Eventually they will cave in and join in on the on-purpose entertainment at a lazy place.

            The lyrics to tick-tock rose up to its favorable pitch and ‘trololo’ really joins in the beat. Both songs are working together at once, uncanny, though it happened in this case. One spun on his helmet ending up hitting the wall. Several other Decepticons laugh.

            “You break me down,

            You bring me up,

            You help me.”

            TR-OLO-TROLO!

            The Decepticons are really getting out of their turtle shells.

            “So,

            When I walk in,

            The Party starts!”

            The inevitable ‘tick tock’ is replaced by a loud musical-one worded song ‘trololo’ from  The Decepticons.

            This is so cool!

            “Who wants the music up?” I ask, having a lost digit one Deceptcon had somehow got off. “And whose digit is this!” I held the Digit up.

             Almost everyone joined in; yes!

             Not one; Mine!

             Trololo!

            “Wake up in the morning,

            Feeling like P diddy,

            And this is when the party starts!”

            TROLOLO!

            Every con must have joined in clapping; I stood beside one large leg watching a dance-off going on. Literally, They are having a competition. Who knew they could make a dance-off-competition-however-you-define it? Anyone who; imagines Animated Blitzwing jumping into a large cotton candy machine and coming out as a pink bunny rabbit with big ears or Animated Starscream coming out from some saloon looking like a clown/ messy make up cybertronian. Maybe more than that.

            TROLOLO~!

            The talent in the Decepticons is so unbelieveable!

            Come on, fangirls and fanboys don’t see this every day.

            One Decepticon in the Dance-off hit it off with another who could be a femme, and did something straight out of ‘So you think you can dance’ Woah, the entire base is shaky! Anyways The Decepticon spins the femme around then caught her after doing an unusual-swan like dance.  Though it’s definitely elegant since a few bystanders raised up the boards reading:  6, 9, and 22,

            “Don’t stop,

            Until I say so,

            Lets fight until it’s midnight!”

            Everyone claps their servos.

            Tro-lolo!

 

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            From a far off space shuttle…

           

            “Rob…are you hearing what I am hearing?” An astronaut asks his partner, floating freely in the space-shuttle’s that above earth; they have the sound-detection-scanner/radar going on, it sometimes caught unnecessary events at most thought as space junk including aliens used the terminology Space Junk.

            Rob’s frozen, stunned body floats out of his room having ear plugs in his ears.        

            “Trolo-olo and Tick-tock” Rob finally said. “Oh my god, this is horrible!”

            The Astronaut sighs; relieved he isn’t the only one hearing it.

            “Annoying too.” The Astronaut, Bill Hardes, adds. “Want to end the transmission…without NASA bugging in our day?”       

            Rob nods.       

            TROL-OLO!

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The Fallen’s audios couldn’t take it anymore.

            “Some’con turn it off!” He scowls. “Puronto!”

            His right optic aims at a really small decepticon.  The Leader is more than eager to have some time for his processor to contemplate ideas and his goals more thoroughly. The Fallen could not move from his enclosed prison that kept him in since the age of Egyptians, seeing those who can move made him envy them, and harvesting the sun will be the greatest accomplishment in his life-cycle. They needed Energon to live. They could not repeatedly use the Allspark on the Protoforms.

            “You, get that computer to shut whatever is making it off!”  He orders the small and little Decepticon who’s the runt of the group. The shaky one leaves the room to the computer. Little did he know a party us going on from the main-lazy location.

            The Fallen relaxes, hoping it will end.

            TROLL-OLO!

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Whistling, while watching the Decepticons do some street dance, I fell into a laughter fit. Can’t believe they are so…naive. Twenty minutes or so having the music on is potentially a great thread for unbelievable events. Certainly this easily; capable of being deflecting music …that is useful to be used against—No, this very entertaining and somewhat annoying music. Better stop thinking…..As somebody else.

            Everyone, I mean, everyone is now….Um what’s that dance that looks like something close to…grinding?

            Tro-olo-o!

            Sazzziizzzzlllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

            “AHHH my audios!”

            “This is horriendous!”

            The screeching made it merely intolerable.  One Decepticon cut down the disco-ball and the high-pitched noise ended. I recoiled feeling something twitch painfully from the right arm. It’s a struggle feeling something that most won’t…understand.  “Owch.” I cover my right arm as the Disco ball fell on the raggedy floor chipping off sparks and zap some of the flooring away almost as big pebbles.

            …Honestly, this was my worst idea yet.

            “Let’s do some target practice.” One Decepticon said, turning away from the destroyed dance floor.

            “Yeah!” Others chimed in, following the rather short Decepticon….He reminds me of Avenger for some reason...Why is that? Avenger can’t exist in this canon world. Not really.  His name used to be Revenger, a friend of mine came up with the title; Revenger of The Fallen two years ago or so…Yes. Definitely last year.

            Though the short Decepticon whistling didn’t help my pain at all.

           

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            At the space shuttle…from afar….

 

            The music is now blaring in the space shuttle. Rob and Bill were recoiled in a room.  Scared for their lives. The music is so annoying they could commit suicide into open space without their helmets on just to get rid of the music. The Small Decepticon had terminated the music right when Bill did so it resent the music into their spaceship.

            “This is your fault.” Bill complains.

            “See you in hell!” Rob stood at the door with this helmet off. He waves his hand at his fellow astronaut before shutting it in the man’s face. Then  he jumps out of the ship. His face becomes wrinkly dark gray signalling he has died leaving behind  a horrified Bill. NASA’s camera’s picked up the loss of life in the space ship.

            ::NASA to Bill, where’s Rob?::

            Bill is trying to keep himself together.

            ::He committed suicide, because of that annoying music!:

            ::What music? We do not detect any music of the sorts on the flight::

            Bill looks out the window.

            :: I want out of this hell-hole, tell my wife: I did  watch CSI MIAMI last night. Gonna miss that show::

            TRO-OLO~

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