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Description
Quick note: I cheated on this one.  Anyone from CiD will be able to recognize this story fairly quickly.  Because it’s taken almost directly from the RP, the action in this may be a little chunky.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

To put it in a word, the last orn had been very…interesting.  It had started out with a simple enough prank involving Sunstreaker and a chocolate bar, but had evolved into him cleaning up Dinobot vomit that had splashed all over the corridor, and leaving a bucket of the stuff sitting in the hallway with a hopefully unsuspecting victim, namely a certain gray weasel-bot.  Unfortunately, luck just did not seem to be on his side today, and Backburn slapped his forehead into his palm as the weasel-bot followed a human down a different hallway.

‘Fragging Pits! Oh well...’ he thought as he eyed the bucket which still stood proudly (if one could call it that) in the middle of the intersection, just waiting for someone to trip over it.

‘Like Pit if I'm picking that up. Whoever finds it, it's their problem.’ He huffed and shook his head, then headed off to the washracks to get the rest of the Dinobot-purge off of his armor. ‘Why the frag can’t any of these stop pranks work without backfiring on me?! What did I do? Is it something I did in a past life? Is it because of my name?! That fragger, he should just slag himself and rot in the Pits for naming me that! Slagging, stupid, son of a…’

If anyone was listening close enough, they would have heard a very surprised yelp, followed by the sounds of a mech slipping to the floor while a bucket (and its rather distasteful contents) went careening down the hallway.

At the familiar metallic clang!, Backburn’s angsty ponderings came to a screeching halt, and an excited whoop echoed down the corridor.

"HAHAAA!! Finally!"

Backburn quickened his pace away from the bucket-dropping Ground Zero. He'd already cleaned up Dino-purge once today; he certainly didn't want to do it again. Reaching the washracks in only half a breem, he raced inside, hoped inside the nearest shower stall and turned on the water at full blast.  The force of the spray immediately began washing the largest bits of Dinobot-purge off his chassis and hands.  Thankfully most of it hadn’t dried up yet, and was swept quickly away and down to the drain in the floor. Still cackling madly from just the imagery of the mech falling over the bucket, he stretched out his arms so the water could flow into his joints.

‘Finally, finally, finally! It worked! Frag, but it took long enough!’ He shook his head, sending water flying everywhere around the stall. ‘Just gotta remember not to go back there.  As long as it was just an accident, it’s not my fault and I don’t have to clean it up. Primus, I don’t want to do that again.’

Some of the stench was starting to wash away as well, but most of it remained, along with stains along his armor.  Finally getting his giggling back under control, he unsubspaced a washcloth and got to work.  He let the water continue to run along his outer plating and soak the stains while the washcloth was pushed into the cavities between the plating and pulled back and forth, loosening particles trapped under the armor and sweeping them out.  It was a slightly painful procedure, since the cloth brushed up against wiring, but was necessary since he didn’t want the particles to linger and make him still smell like vomit orns later.

It took a while, but the dark red mech finally got most of the particles out.  The rest could wait for another day; there wasn’t a significant amount left that would leave a stench.  By that time most of the purge on his outer plating was gone too, save for the stains on the paint.  He pulled out a small amount of polish and started rubbing vigorously along the armor in small circles.  It took a lot of effort, and probably what the humans called “elbow grease”, whatever that was, but the worst of the stains finally lifted.

"Ah, much better!"

Backburn turned off the water and hopped out of the stall, still polishing his elbows and forearms. A quick touch-up job on his armor and he'd be done; he wasn't too concerned on making it spotless, just presentable. "C'mon, get off!" he threatened to one particularly stubborn stain on his arm. He rubbed it meticulously as he left the washracks.  Finally cleaning it, he looked up to see the very orange femme from before prowling the hall with...a mop?

‘What the…why would…I think her name is Layby? Yeah, that was it.’

"Hey there!" he called to her, unaware that she was looking for him specifically. "You didn't get purge on you too, did you?"

Layby gave a start when Backburn called out to her, but quickly sorted herself. She put the mop behind her back, not to hide it but to hide her purge-stained hands, and beamed innocently at Backburn.

"Oh hi. Nono, some silly bot knocked the bucket over so I'm just going to clean it up, could you maybe help me to find a clean bucket for some water please?"

"Sure, why not?" He subspaced his washcloth and turned back to the washracks. "I think there's another bucket in here somewhere..."

Just as he was about to step back in, a rancid smell hit his olfactory receptors. He had just cleaned off, and the stall was rinsed out, so that meant..."You sure you don't have any purge on you?" he said, looking back in Layby's direction.

Layby continued to smile but this time it didn't reach her eyes.

"The smell's probably just clinging to me seeing as I'm the one who has to clean up your mess!"

She changed her stance so she was blocking the door, her hands still behind her back but the mop held horizontally. Now smiling quite evilly.

"Course, if you're willing to take full responsibility..."

Backburn's optics widened as he suddenly understood the situation. "...Ooooh no. I just cleaned up that purge; I'm not going to do it again!"

Layby was blocking the only door out, and he couldn't barrel through her; he definitely smelled purge, and she'd probably get it all over him if he tried to push her out of the way, not to mention taking a mop to the head. And he couldn't pull a weapon on his fellow Autobot inside the base; even Backburn wasn't stupid enough to do that. 'But…' He looked around frantically and spied a scrub brush with a very long handle lying near one of the stalls. He grabbed it and held it out in front of him menacingly.

"En guarde!!"

Layby faltered for a second, but then grinned and pulled the mop from behind her, also revealing her purge-stained hands.

"Bring it," she said, holding it two handed.

'Must not get touched by those, must not get touched by those....' Backburn moved his hands farther down the scrub brush so that he was gripping it just above the fibers, then took the initiative and swung the handle down on top of the mop. He knew the first blow won't do much, but he wanted to test out Layby's mop-wielding skills. Almost a second too late Layby brought up the mop to block the attack. She caught Backburn’s eye and grinned. "That all you got Scrubs?"

"Scrubs?!"

Backburn jumped backed and held the scrub brush out in front of him again.

"I'll show you Scrubs, mop-head!"

He rushed forward again with an underhanded swing at Layby. She wasn't quick enough to avoid and the handle end of the brush smacked her side with a sharp thwack. It wasn't exactly painful, in fact it only stung, but it was enough.

"Oh that’s it!" She dropped the mop and leapt at Backburn, screeching madly. Backburn squawked.

"Ooof!" The airborne femme knocked him to the ground, sending his scrub brush rolling away. Once again he thanked the bar behind his head that kept his helm from smacking the tile.

"Why you....AUUGGH!!" he shouted, noticing that the front of his armor was now once again covered in purge. "Frag! And I just got clean! Fragging slag!"

Description
Quick note: I cheated on this one.  Anyone from CiD will be able to recognize this story fairly quickly.  Because it’s taken almost directly from the RP, the action in this may be a little chunky.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

To put it in a word, the last orn had been very…interesting.  It had started out with a simple enough prank involving Sunstreaker and a chocolate bar, but had evolved into him cleaning up Dinobot vomit that had splashed all over the corridor, and leaving a bucket of the stuff sitting in the hallway with a hopefully unsuspecting victim, namely a certain gray weasel-bot.  Unfortunately, luck just did not seem to be on his side today, and Backburn slapped his forehead into his palm as the weasel-bot followed a human down a different hallway.

‘Fragging Pits! Oh well...’ he thought as he eyed the bucket which still stood proudly (if one could call it that) in the middle of the intersection, just waiting for someone to trip over it.

‘Like Pit if I'm picking that up. Whoever finds it, it's their problem.’ He huffed and shook his head, then headed off to the washracks to get the rest of the Dinobot-purge off of his armor. ‘Why the frag can’t any of these stop pranks work without backfiring on me?! What did I do? Is it something I did in a past life? Is it because of my name?! That fragger, he should just slag himself and rot in the Pits for naming me that! Slagging, stupid, son of a…’

If anyone was listening close enough, they would have heard a very surprised yelp, followed by the sounds of a mech slipping to the floor while a bucket (and its rather distasteful contents) went careening down the hallway.

At the familiar metallic clang!, Backburn’s angsty ponderings came to a screeching halt, and an excited whoop echoed down the corridor.

"HAHAAA!! Finally!"

Backburn quickened his pace away from the bucket-dropping Ground Zero. He'd already cleaned up Dino-purge once today; he certainly didn't want to do it again. Reaching the washracks in only half a breem, he raced inside, hoped inside the nearest shower stall and turned on the water at full blast.  The force of the spray immediately began washing the largest bits of Dinobot-purge off his chassis and hands.  Thankfully most of it hadn’t dried up yet, and was swept quickly away and down to the drain in the floor. Still cackling madly from just the imagery of the mech falling over the bucket, he stretched out his arms so the water could flow into his joints.

‘Finally, finally, finally! It worked! Frag, but it took long enough!’ He shook his head, sending water flying everywhere around the stall. ‘Just gotta remember not to go back there.  As long as it was just an accident, it’s not my fault and I don’t have to clean it up. Primus, I don’t want to do that again.’

Some of the stench was starting to wash away as well, but most of it remained, along with stains along his armor.  Finally getting his giggling back under control, he unsubspaced a washcloth and got to work.  He let the water continue to run along his outer plating and soak the stains while the washcloth was pushed into the cavities between the plating and pulled back and forth, loosening particles trapped under the armor and sweeping them out.  It was a slightly painful procedure, since the cloth brushed up against wiring, but was necessary since he didn’t want the particles to linger and make him still smell like vomit orns later.

It took a while, but the dark red mech finally got most of the particles out.  The rest could wait for another day; there wasn’t a significant amount left that would leave a stench.  By that time most of the purge on his outer plating was gone too, save for the stains on the paint.  He pulled out a small amount of polish and started rubbing vigorously along the armor in small circles.  It took a lot of effort, and probably what the humans called “elbow grease”, whatever that was, but the worst of the stains finally lifted.

"Ah, much better!"

Backburn turned off the water and hopped out of the stall, still polishing his elbows and forearms. A quick touch-up job on his armor and he'd be done; he wasn't too concerned on making it spotless, just presentable. "C'mon, get off!" he threatened to one particularly stubborn stain on his arm. He rubbed it meticulously as he left the washracks.  Finally cleaning it, he looked up to see the very orange femme from before prowling the hall with...a mop?

‘What the…why would…I think her name is Layby? Yeah, that was it.’

"Hey there!" he called to her, unaware that she was looking for him specifically. "You didn't get purge on you too, did you?"

Layby gave a start when Backburn called out to her, but quickly sorted herself. She put the mop behind her back, not to hide it but to hide her purge-stained hands, and beamed innocently at Backburn.

"Oh hi. Nono, some silly bot knocked the bucket over so I'm just going to clean it up, could you maybe help me to find a clean bucket for some water please?"

"Sure, why not?" He subspaced his washcloth and turned back to the washracks. "I think there's another bucket in here somewhere..."

Just as he was about to step back in, a rancid smell hit his olfactory receptors. He had just cleaned off, and the stall was rinsed out, so that meant..."You sure you don't have any purge on you?" he said, looking back in Layby's direction.

Layby continued to smile but this time it didn't reach her eyes.

"The smell's probably just clinging to me seeing as I'm the one who has to clean up your mess!"

She changed her stance so she was blocking the door, her hands still behind her back but the mop held horizontally. Now smiling quite evilly.

"Course, if you're willing to take full responsibility..."

Backburn's optics widened as he suddenly understood the situation. "...Ooooh no. I just cleaned up that purge; I'm not going to do it again!"

Layby was blocking the only door out, and he couldn't barrel through her; he definitely smelled purge, and she'd probably get it all over him if he tried to push her out of the way, not to mention taking a mop to the head. And he couldn't pull a weapon on his fellow Autobot inside the base; even Backburn wasn't stupid enough to do that. 'But…' He looked around frantically and spied a scrub brush with a very long handle lying near one of the stalls. He grabbed it and held it out in front of him menacingly.

"En guarde!!"

Layby faltered for a second, but then grinned and pulled the mop from behind her, also revealing her purge-stained hands.

"Bring it," she said, holding it two handed.

'Must not get touched by those, must not get touched by those....' Backburn moved his hands farther down the scrub brush so that he was gripping it just above the fibers, then took the initiative and swung the handle down on top of the mop. He knew the first blow won't do much, but he wanted to test out Layby's mop-wielding skills. Almost a second too late Layby brought up the mop to block the attack. She caught Backburn’s eye and grinned. "That all you got Scrubs?"

"Scrubs?!"

Backburn jumped backed and held the scrub brush out in front of him again.

"I'll show you Scrubs, mop-head!"

He rushed forward again with an underhanded swing at Layby. She wasn't quick enough to avoid and the handle end of the brush smacked her side with a sharp thwack. It wasn't exactly painful, in fact it only stung, but it was enough.

"Oh that’s it!" She dropped the mop and leapt at Backburn, screeching madly. Backburn squawked.

"Ooof!" The airborne femme knocked him to the ground, sending his scrub brush rolling away. Once again he thanked the bar behind his head that kept his helm from smacking the tile.

"Why you....AUUGGH!!" he shouted, noticing that the front of his armor was now once again covered in purge. "Frag! And I just got clean! Fragging slag!"