This list will be strictly about the Transformers, and Prowl will be pulling a Dave Seville quite a lot. Somewhat crack, and therefore OOC, since I highly doubt they would ever act like this. Will be mostly G1, with a few elements added from other continuities. Since they're on Earth, I'll be using human measurements of time and distance as well.

IMPORTANT: I added the date each rule was posted.

LESS IMPORTANT: You will be witness to Ratchet slowly transforming into The Hatchet. Be afraid.

SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT: There will be no techno-organic daughters of Optimus Prime, cousins to Sam Witwicky, and girlfriends to Bumblebee or Jazz anywhere. There will also not be slash or femslash, or any kind of romantic relationships, really. They tend to take over and I don't want that.

:::

EDIT 6/16/15 - To the foaming-at-the-mouth teenage girls/20-to-30-year-old women: I am not homophobic. I am not "close(d)-minded." I do not like most slash stories on here because, even in the k-rated category (though that's usually just someone not paying attention), they are just poorly written porn. Lemme tell ya, that doesn't go there that way.

(That's what I mean by "twisted" in the original (and shorter...) note. ...I have a feeling I'm still making myself seem like a homophobic asshole but sometimes you just can't win, so whatever.)

Just want to get that out of the way. If you're still here, enjoy the story, and sorry you had to see that.

The Autobot List

Chapter 1: Battle Plan

29 June 1987

Prowl was beginning to think Primus had it out for him. He really did. The poor mech groaned and dropped his head into his hands, forgetting for a second he was in the middle of a firefight.

The Decepticons had decided to terrorize the humans again, using another lamely named doomsday device. He couldn't even remember what this one was called. It's become that tedious. Anyway, the humans called for help, as usual. They responded, as usual.

Optimus and Megatron engaged in their typical shouting match, complete with metaphorical and literal chest thumping. The Seekers blasted everyone from the sky, though the purple maniac was missing so often it was a bit sad. Bluestreak was firing at anything that moved with a 'Con decal. He'd lost track of what the Spec Ops guys were doing. Last time he saw them, they were headed to Megatron's latest "weapon."

Behind him, Ironhide, Cliffjumper, and his own two Pit spawns were shooting at whatever combiner team had been called in. He was pretty sure it was the Stunticons, but he was unable tell with the smoke and blaster bolts flying everywhere. Briefly, he wondered where the Constructicons had gotten to, but remembered they weren't there to begin with. Probably didn't want to see this thing get blown sky-high like all the others.

"Hey, Prowl!" Ironhide shouted over the noise. Their comms had been blocked early on. Fraggin' Soundwave... "What was the plan again?"

"Stop Megatron!" He shouted back, his doorwings twitching in irritation. "Prime took off without letting me finish!"

"So...you don't have a plan?" Cliffjumper asked. Prowl ducked as Thundercracker let off a shot close enough he felt the heat as it passed by his chevron. He turned and fired a few acid pellets his way.

"No!" He stopped, optics widening. Oooh, scrap. "But I think Jazz and his guys came up with one themselves."

"What makes you say that?"

"DUCK!" He dropped, covering his head and flattening his doorwings to his back. Two seconds later, an explosion rocked the world. He felt pieces of hot metal raining down, along with chunks of...other things. He wasn't sure what. Three...two...one...

"DECEPTICONS RETREAT!" He lifted his head cautiously, mindful of the still falling debris. The Decepticons were flying off, Skywarp throwing a very rude human hand gesture their way before following his Trinemates. If one listened hard enough, they would hear Starscream literally screeching about his leader's incompetency. Prowl quietly agreed.

Now, to tend to his own leader. He stood up, brushing all the debris off, optics searching. There. Prime was pushing himself up, a piece of a building falling off his back. Prowl stalked over, optics narrowed, and doorwings flared. Prime froze when he finally caught sight of him. If Prowl wasn't so angry, he would have laughed. Maybe. The Autobot's fearless leader, looking like a youngling caught doing something it shouldn't.

Prowl stopped right in front of him, hands on his hips and tapping his foot. He thought he heard Jazz, who had somehow dug himself and his crew out of the rubble, snicker. He didn't care.

"Prime. I have but one question for you, and I want you to answer honestly." A pause long enough for Optimus to fidget slightly, his face completely serious, absolutely no hint of a smile.

"Were you dropped on your head as a hatchling?"

Jazz promptly fell over, laughing harder than Prowl had ever seen. Mirage, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee just stood there, completely floored. A quick glance to the left showed Ironhide, Cliffjumper, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in a similar state. Smokescreen reached down and closed Bumblebee's mouth after a moment.

"I-uh-wh-what?" Prime sputtered.

"Were. You. Dropped. On. Your. Head. As. A. Hatchling?" Prowl slowly repeated. "Because even children know not to go gallivanting off without a strategy!"

"Burn!" Both turned to glare at Jazz, who was still laughing. He raised his hands in submission. "Okay. I'll be quiet." They looked back at each other.

"Well?" Prowl crossed his arms and his foot tapping became faster.

"Um..."

"Prime!"

"No. I was not. And I apologize. I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking." Prowl deadpanned. Optimus shook his head, like he hoped that would save him. Prowl threw his arms up. "That's it. I quit." He turned and began walking in the direction of the Ark. "Just charge in like a bunch of idiots. You obviously don't need me."

Just as he transformed, he received a comm. from Ratchet.

::I'm not fixing them. I am on strike. Tell Prime to kiss my tailpipe.:: Jazz must have told him. Great.

::What about me?::

::You, either. You were in charge. You should have kept them in line. Good luck.:: He could just imagine the medic's smug expression as he ended the transmission. His comm. pinged again.

::What?:: He snarled, not caring who was on the other end. If it was Prime, oh well.

::This could be a good excuse to start that list you've been talking about.:: Bluestreak sounded innocent enough. Prowl knew otherwise. After a second, he wondered where he was during his little meltdown. He didn't recall seeing him there. ::I mean, I would if I were you.::

::You know, Blue. I think I will. By the way, where you when...uh...::

::You asked Prime if his caretakers dropped him?:: Now he was amused. ::Where I was during the fight. Up on the ridge. I'll see you back at base, 'kay?::

::Alright. See you then.:: I know what's going on the list first...

|-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-|

When the others returned about forty-five minutes later, they noticed the ship's corridors were pretty much deserted, minus the occasional mech who burst into laughter at the sight of them. After Grapple walked past, leaning on Hoist as he cackled, unable to speak, Ironhide had had enough. He grabbed the next mech, who happened to be Tracks.

"What's going on here? Why's everyone laughing at us?" Tracks's lips twitched.

"Um...you don't know?" The red mech glared. Tracks coughed slightly. "Right. Just...go in the rec room. You'll see." Once Ironhide released him, he hurried away. As he rounded the corner, Jazz swore he heard him snicker.

"Well, might as well go see what it is." Jazz said, cheerful as ever, walking in the direction everyone else came from. "You guys coming or what?" He called over his shoulder.

They all looked at each other, shrugged, then followed.

A group of mechs were crowded around...something on the far wall, directly across from the door. Prime strode over to the edge of the crowd and tapped Blaster on the shoulder. The mech broke out into a huge grin.

"I think Prowl's had enough, Boss."

"What makes you say that?" Blaster snickered, waving his hand at what Prime recognized as a bill board, of sorts. It was large enough for a Cybertronian to write on, and was made out of metal instead of wood.

Due to the extreme amount of incidents we will never speak of again, all Autobots are to follow these rules. Sideswipe (and Sunstreaker), I swear if you don't listen, I will declare Open Season, and let every single mech you've ever pranked have at you. I'm not joking. - Prowl

Prime read the first, and currently only, rule posted. He nodded to himself. "Ah. I see. Well, then. I better go beg for his and Ratchet's forgiveness. Again," He added as an afterthought. He turned, walked out, then came back. "If I don't come back, Twins, avenge me." He then went to gallantly face his doom.

"You think Prowl's serious?" Cliffjumper asked. Most shrugged.

"Knowing him, probably. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some planning to do," Smokescreen answered, heading towards the door.

"Planning? For what?" His grin caused many to back away.

"Those two," He nodded in the Lambos' direction, "are bound to screw up. I want to be ready. I suggest you do the same." With a flick of his doorwings, he's gone. There's a moment of silence, then everyone else rushed out, all sporting maniacal smiles.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were afraid.

Rule #1: Before charging off into battle, WAIT UNTIL I'VE DRAWN UP A BATTLE PLAN! There will be fewer casualties, and it will decrease the odds of having a slagged off medic on your case. By the way, Prime, he says he will no longer be caring for your injuries collected from stupidity. You're on your own.

Again, sorry for that note. I realize the majority of you like slash, and I assume are not like the people I was talking about. It was not directed at you.

"Caretakers" are the adults in each caste in charge of raising the hatchlings, who were born from Vector Sigma. No actual parents, though a couple could request a hatchling to raise themselves if they desired.