Jazz vs Scary Lady

The opposing parties met on the field of battle, exchanged polite but somewhat frosty greetings, and lines were promptly drawn as the face off began.

Autobot Jazz, third in command, officer in charge of Special Operations and a decorated hero several times over, sat cross-legged on the floor, a large (by human standards) table between him and the enemy, his two allies seated to his left and right, while their opponent sat opposite from him at the other end. Carly, nervously chewing a thumbnail, looked about as white as a sheet. Spike meanwhile, alternated between uncomfortable fidgeting and throwing worried glances at his fiancée.

From the other end of the table their opponent, five foot, two inches of exquisitely dressed elderly matron crowned with snowy white hair swept up in a tight bun, glared back at them all in turn. Jazz repressed a slight shiver as the cold green eyes swept over him. Carly’s anxiety was definitely not unfounded. He was over four times the woman’s size and even he was scared.

Barely moving to conceal what he was up to, Jazz secreted a small-ish pistol from subspace and carefully placed it on his lap. The weight of the weapon was reassuring, a quiet reminder that he had something to defend himself with should the need arise.

Scary Lady wasted no time with her first attack. “Now my dear,” she began, all attention on Carly and totally ignoring Spike (the young man was having a hard time deciding if he was offended or relieved by that) I know how much you wanted a chapel wedding and I’ve found the perfect location right in town.” She pulled several glossy photos of a small church set in pristine gardens out of a portfolio and spread them out for her daughter to see. “The building is quite beautiful and the grounds will make for decent photographs afterwards.” The glance she flicked Spike’s way indicated exactly what she thought would cause the photos to only be ‘decent’.
“But mother, I don’t want..” Carly attempted a protest but one gesture from the immaculately manicured and bejewelled hand cut her off. “Nonsense dear, you told me how much you wanted one when you were young and that is what you will get.”

Spike and Jazz exchanged a look and together examined the photos.

“It’s tiny!” The Autobot exclaimed, voice modulated to barely a murmur and simultaneously relaying a progress report to a few others on the outside. The faintest whirr of servos indicated Red Alert or whoever else had wormed their way into the security were trying to get a look too.
Spike picked up one of the pictures, surreptuously angling it for the camera over their shoulders to get a decent look at it too. “Yeah, you can’t even get a minibot through the door.” He muttered back.

“Ahem.”

Both males flinched and looked up from their covert conversation to see the emerald-hard eyes on them again.

“As I was saying, I believe these florists are adequate to do the arrangements, don’t you agree?” Carly’s mother queried with an artificial smile, passing several leaflets over. Spike took them gingerly. “Um, yeah, sure…” He mumbled.

Scary Lady sniffed and returned her attention to her beleaguered daughter. “Now, I believe that a nice pale pink will do well for the roses, and you will certainly be wearing some in your hair.”
“Ah, beggin’ y’ pardon ma’am, but pink ain’t really a favourite colour for Carly. Some white jasmine an’ small red rose buds would look much better.” Jazz interrupted, earning himself a glacial glare from the woman.
“No.” She replied firmly. “Pale pink is far more suitable, correct Carly?”
“Uhh…mother? I kinda agree with Jazz…” Carly squirmed in her chair, so very clearly wishing she were in any number of places that were not here.     

“Really!” The older woman snorted. She reached over to lay one hand on Carly’s. “Carly my dear, surely you aren’t trusting this…” she paused to flick a disdainful glance at Jazz again, “tasteless machine to give you advice for your wedding day, are you?”  
   
Ok, that was it. No more Mr Nice Porsche.

“Now just see here a second ma’am,” Jazz leaned forward, one forearm resting on the table and mouth set in what he called his ‘scary nice guy’ smile (and yes he had spent several hours practicing a suitable one in front of the mirror) “I just happen t’ be something on an expert when it comes to matters of style and also, y’ daughter here is a fully grown lady now a days. As such I think she can decide what she wants for her big day. In other words that ain’t so polite, this is her wedding, not yours. Back off.” He smiled nicely and settled back down.

“Well I never..!” Carly’s mother spluttered, colour rising in her cheeks as she realised this was one person she couldn’t just steamroll over. Spike was fighting to keep a straight face. Carly simply looked relieved and threw a grateful glance over in Jazz’s direction.

Score one for them.




The respite didn’t last long at all however, as Scary Lady regained her composure and carefully smoothed down her immaculate silk blouse. “Well then, back to business.” She said crisply, all too clearly reminding Spike of his 6th grade school principal, also a very scary lady. The current Scary Lady reached out to Carly. “Show me your engagement ring, dear.”  
“Ok.” Carly gently twisted the elegant gold band with its three small inset diamonds until it came off and handed it over.

Scary Lady barely looked at it before uttering a snort of disgust. “Tacky and cheap.” She flicked her glance over at Spike. “Surely my daughter is worth better than this.”
“Mother!” Carly half-rose out of her seat, absolutely horrified. She knew full well exactly how hard Spike had worked to earn the money for the rings, on top of college studies and work at the base.

It was only Jazz’s hand resting heavily on Spike’s shoulders and the mech rapidly murmuring in his ear that kept the young man from doing something he’d regret.  

“I don’t see what you’re all worked up about Carlene; it’s a perfectly valid comment to make.” Scary Lady replied mildly as she handed the ring back with far less care than what Carly had used. “The diamonds are far too small and the ring itself isn’t big enough. It would also benefit a great deal from additional stones, such as a few well placed rubies.”
“We can’t afford it and I don’t want something big and flashy, you know that!” Carly hissed quietly, her glance flicking between the Autobot gradually talking down her infuriated fiancée and her mildly perturbed looking mother.
“That is why I am here.” The matriarch replied evenly. “To make sure that the wedding day is at the very least acceptable. When you finally come to your senses I will make sure that your proper wedding is much better.” Her insinuations were all too clearly punctuated with a look in Spike’s direction.

It was very fortunate for all parties concerned that Bumblebee picked this moment to stick his head in. “Hey guys!” He grinned, a hint of well-concealed Machiavellian delight licking about his lips. “You hear about the storm yet?”
“Storm?” The question came from three different mouths and an electronic inquiry from Jazz.
“Yup.” ‘Bee replied, sending the electronic version of a wink to Jazz. “Great big dust storm blew up outta the desert and dumped all this sand and dust over southern Portland.”
Jazz quickly caught on to what Bumblebee was doing. “Oh? How far up did it get?” He queried innocently, relaxing his grip on Spike as the young man relaxed.
“’bout halfway up town, right to the main park on Jefferson and Fifth.”
Jazz frowned and reached for the pamphlet that had come with the church photos. “So…that’d mean Demrich Street would be covered too, right?”
“It’d be smack-dab in the middle of it.”
“Ah. Thanks Bee.”
“No problem.” The little spy grinned and waved, making a hasty exit.

Jazz turned back to his nemesis with a pleasant smile that he hoped wasn’t too cocky. “Sorry t’ say it ma’am, but it looks like the church is a no-go.”
The matriarch frowned. “No matter, I’m sure there will be other buildings equally suitable.”  
“Ok, but I think it’s time we had ourselves a break, doncha think?” Jazz smoothly diverted the conversation. He’d been monitoring both his friends closely and he hadn’t liked how badly the tension was radiating off both of them.

Scary Lady checked her wristwatch and glanced at him, suspicious. “Mm…perhaps it is time for lunch.” She grudgingly conceded. “Carlene, are there any decent restaurants in this…town?” She stopped short of deeming it worthy of the title ‘city’.
“Oh, we don’t need to go anywhere mother,” Carly quickly interjected, wanting to score some good points on her fiancée’s behalf, “Spike is a really, really good cook.”
Another derisive sniff from the matriarch. “I will believe it when I see it.”
“Then you’re going to see it.” Spike announced, the first words he’d uttered in almost an hour. He stood, helped his fiancée out of her chair and pointedly ignored Scary Lady, earning himself a black look and several barely disguised mutters about ‘uncouth working-class filth’.

“Spike, whatever you do, please don’t poison mother.” Carly murmured softly as he gently guided her out of the room. “I know it’s perfectly justifiable but not all of my family is like her.”
Spike paused, leaned down and tenderly kissed his beloved on the cheek. “I won’t, I promise.” He smiled gently. “Help her find the kitchen, I’ll be along in just a moment, ok?”
“Okay.” Carly smiled back and touched his cheek before quickening her pace to catch up with Scary Lady.

Spike however, ducked back inside the conference room just as Jazz extricated his stiff knees from under the table, gun once again safely stored in subspace. “Hey Jazz, can I ask a favour?”
“Sure.” Jazz grinned back, the expression a little forced as his lower limbs finally decided to remind him they were still attached to his body. “What’s on y’ mind?”
“Can you watch the ladies for a bit? I need to make some phone calls.”         
   




Lunch, Scary Lady had reluctantly conceded, was ‘tolerable’.

She did however pitch a fit over Carly then getting up and helping her fiancée to clean up and do the dishes, declaring with some venom directed at both adults that she ‘had not raised a debutant to become a common housewife!’ before storming out to inflict her own special brand of misery on the Autobot population at large.

That was when Carly, already wrung out from the stress of the visit and the behaviour of her mother, finally lost her composure, sinking to the tiled floor with her head in her hands and sobbing.

“Oh Spike…this…this is terrible!” She wailed, tears streaming down her face.
Spike quickly patted himself down for a handkerchief, found none, and snatched up a wad of paper napkins instead, crouching beside his beloved and carefully putting his arm around her. “Hey now babe, it’s gonna be ok...” He attempted, pressing one of the napkins into her hand and quickly rapping out a general alert on his modified pager.
“No it’s not!” Carly sobbed and scrubbed at her nose with the napkin, reddening it further. “My mother’s a witch! She’s terrible to you and the others!  She’s… she’s…”

“She’s what?” A soft voice intruded. Both humans looked up as First Aid carefully crouched at the open door to the human’s living area. Carly filled him in between sobs and shuddering breaths, Spike keeping her well supplied with napkins and rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.

At the end of it all, First Aid carefully reached into the room and gently brushed a lock of blonde hair away from Carly’s face. “You’re not responsible for your creator’s actions, Carly.” He gently told her. “She is, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Carly offered him a wobbly smile in return. “Thanks ‘Aid.” She sniffed loudly and dabbed at her face again, giving a short, self-depreciating laugh. “I must be a mess.”
“I’d be lying if I said otherwise.” Spike smiled a bit and kissed her lightly on the brow. “Go clean up babe, I’ll take care of the rest of this.” He said, gently helping her up and kissing her again, this time on the cheek.
“Ok.” Carly smiled a bit back and waved to First Aid before padding out of the dining area and towards the bathrooms.

As soon as she was gone Spike leaned back against the counter and let out a long breath, running one hand through his hair. “Whoo boy…thanks for the help there ‘Aid.” He said, looking over at the Protectobot. “Wasn’t sure at all how to handle that.”
“You’re welcome.” The gentlest of the five smiled back behind his surgical mask and carefully arose, brushing himself off and continuing down the hall on his interrupted errand.

0o0o0

Elsewhere in the Ark, the hallways were rapidly being evacuated ahead of and around the approaching matriarch.

Some might have seen it as being cowardly but none of the crew had survived this long by taking too many unnecessary risks.

It would be stating the glaringly obvious to say that Scary Lady had been classified as one of those risks.      

Prowl watched her progress glumly from the security feed on Teletran One, chin in hand and doorwings progressively drooping lower and lower as he realised nobody was going to step up to the plate and at least attempt to be polite to the woman. Jazz and everyone on duty were excusable, the former because he needed a break and the latter because they had work to do.

To be courteous the duty of officially greeting the woman would have to fall to at least a ranking officer…except, Prowl realised with an ever-increasing sense of dread, mechs of that description had all of a sudden become very scarce. He checked the locator beacons. Ratchet was on duty, and Ironhide was in Medical with him for what looked like a very rapidly scheduled check-up. Jazz had an excuse. Blaster was hardwired into the comm. system again for a security sweep. Red Alert was on duty. Prime was simply gone.

“Oh for…” Prowl let out a world-weary sigh and rubbed at his face. There were days he could almost swear his colleagues were all a bunch of wusses.

This was one of them.   

With a sigh of resignation Prowl squared his shoulders and quickly checked to make sure he was presentable before striding out to intercept the human; on the outside looking like the decorated officer that he was, but on the inside feeling more like a condemned prisoner on his way to be shot.

0o0o0

“I take it you’re the commander of this…outfit?”

Prowl blinked. He wasn’t even half-way through kneeling down to greet the woman before the interrogation began. “Pardon, but no, my name is…”
Scary Lady sniffed. “Typical. I take it you’re one of the rank and file?”
“No, I am the second in command. My name is Prowl.” He extended one hand in greeting but she glared until he retracted it.
“Tell me, where is your commander?” She demanded.
“My apologies but he is currently otherwise occupied. Do you have any questions for him?” Prowl queried politely. “Prime, you had better be doing something very important right now…”

Scary Lady eyed him coldly. “Perhaps you will do.” She said at length.
For his part Prowl felt like a slave at the auctions, getting sized up by a potential owner. “How may I be of assistance? Is there a problem with the guest room or…”
“My concern is my daughter.” She snapped as if mortally offended. “I want her out of this…” she glanced around, “…alien installation and away from that brat immediately. Since you are the ‘second in command’ you can make it happen.”

It wasn’t as much of a request as it was an order.

Prowl’s optics narrowed slightly, even as he instinctively tucked his chin down slightly and his doorwings rose higher on his shoulders. It was clear that there would be no middle ground where this woman was concerned.

“Ma’am,” he began evenly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Your daughter is a vital part of the staff here and for her to be removed would necessitate a personnel transfer to a different post or a court-marshal. Since there are no other facilities on this planet she cannot be transferred out, and since she has committed no offence she cannot be court-marshalled and discharged from service.” His optics narrowed further and his voice took on a tone similar to what he had honed as a young officer putting the fear of Primus into cadets on the parade ground.

“In the future ma’am, it would be advisable for you to refrain from your attempts to sabotage your daughter’s relationship. She and Spike are valued and well-liked members of this unit as well as being decorated heroes.” Prowl leaned in closer, doorwings riding higher as he loomed over her to remind her exactly how big he was and how small she was. “We tend to take a low view on threats to our comrades in arms. I suggest you consider that. Good day.”

With that, he got up and strode back the way he had come.    



Scary Lady stared balefully after the 2IC’s retreating back. Despite everything, she was still undeterred in her quest to make sure her youngest daughter married properly and promptly struck off in a different direction with the intention of finding someone to help her attain that goal.

The thought that Carly might have been happy with her current choice did cross her mind once but was summarily dismissed. She was her mother, and mothers always know what is best.

0o0o0

Spike was just about to finish putting away the last of the crockery when Carly emerged from the bathroom, almost all traces of her weeping carefully covered up with some well applied makeup.

“Feeling better babe?” Spike asked, drawing his beloved into a chaste kiss.
“Yeah, thanks Spike.” She managed a small smile and returned the gesture. “Guess it’s time to go back to the front lines.”
“Yep.” Spike fired off a quick message to Jazz and linked hands with his fiancée, walking with her out the door and back to the conference room.

When they arrived however, the room was rather decidedly devoid of the matriarch. What it did hold were the 3IC and 2IC having a conversation in Cybertronian, just in case the subject of their discussion should walk in on them unannounced.

Carly looked between the two officers with a growing feeling of deep apprehension. “…please don’t tell me Grimlock ate my mother…”

Prowl looked down at her with what for him was a reassuring smile. “Nothing quite that drastic I can assure you.” He replied. “We were just discussing possible tactics for the next round of talks.”
“Ok.” Spike glanced around in case Scary Lady had slipped in through one of the other doors. “So, uh, where is she anyway?”
“I’ll ask Red.” Jazz volunteered, touching two fingers to the side of his head as he made a quick radio call, an unnecessary gesture since it was all mentally activated anyway. No one was quite sure where they had all picked that little habit up from.

“Uh oh.”  

All eyes and optics instantly locked on Jazz.

“What is it?” Carly asked, that familiar feeling of apprehension back in full force and tying her stomach in knots. She was quite sure she’d have an ulcer after all this.
“Red’s tracked her into Medical.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Employing reflexes honed by living in a world of giants, the two humans ran for it.

0o0o0

“All I am saying is that it is simply too dangerous for my daughter to be here, much less live here.” Scary Lady pressed her point in a particularly wheedling tone of voice. “Surely as a ..doctor,” Despite his growing irritation, Ratchet noted the hesitation with some amusement, “you must understand that.”
The CMO didn’t even bother looking up from his soldering. He’d already gotten the full report from Jazz and simply didn’t give a frag about being polite to the female for any reason. “What part of ‘I don’t care’ don’t you get?” he growled. “The girl stays.”

Scary Lady pursed her lips in annoyance but didn’t ease up on her tirade one bit. “You say there’s a war going on between your kind and these ‘Decepticons’, and you claim to be a healer of some sort, correct? Logically then you should be trying to prevent harm, not letting my daughter throw herself headlong into it!”

Ratchet gritted his dental plates and not for the first time wished he had something he could throw at a human. That was when he spotted what could very well prove to be a worthy substitute.

0o0o0

Spike and Carly arrived just in time to see Ratchet upend a tall box and clap it down over Scary Lady much in the same manner a human might trap a scurrying spider under a glass.
  
Judging by the muffled screams of outrage and thumping Scary Lady was not amused.  Not that Ratchet cared. He simply winked at the two young adults and went right back to work. No one got to abuse the Autobot population except him.

Carly had one hand clapped over her mouth in utter horror. “Oh my…did he just…?”
Her fiancée, grinning fit to burst, slung one arm around her shoulder. “Yup.”
“Oh my…” A muffled laugh slipped past her lips. She couldn’t help it. “He…” Carly giggled again, cheeks flushed bright red.
Spike grinned wider, listening to the growing ruckus from in the box. “If she’s saying what I think she’s saying, that’s some pretty good swearing for a lady.”

That did it.

First Carly then Spike cracked up into peal after peal of laughter, clutching at their sides while the tears rolled down their cheeks. Ratchet was far too disciplined to join them but it didn’t stop a wide smirk from pulling at his lips while he worked.

“Hooo boy…” Spike gasped a few minutes later, leaning against the side of a berth for support. “..I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard…”
“Me either…” Carly couldn’t help a vapid-sounding giggle, somewhat giddy for lack of air.
“You think we should let her out now?” Spike canted a glance up at the CMO.

Ratchet considered this for a moment. “Yeah, not sure how much ventilation she’s got in there.”  He reached down to pick up the box, then paused and picked up a long pair of tongs, using those to carefully lift the improvised cage instead. No way was he going to put his hands anywhere near that kind of rabid creature.

Scary Lady stood at her usual stiff-necked and pristine attention when the box was gingerly removed, cold eyes absolutely rock hard and flinty. “Carlene, you and I are going into town. Be at the car at three o’clock.” She ordered before sweeping out.

Carly gulped audibly. There was no way that this was going to be at all pretty.

0o0o0

It was late evening by the time Jazz wandered out of the base and languidly positioned himself beside the rock Spike was sprawled on, the human nursing a bottle of beer as he stared in the direction of Portland.

“Penny f’ y’ thoughts?” The Special Ops queried lightly.
“Hmm? Oh… just worried about Carly.” Spike grimaced slightly and set aside the half-finished Steinlarger. “She’s having a rough time with all this.”
“Yeah, I heard about th’ lil’ cryin’ spell.” Jazz grinned at the human’s unspoken question and tapped the communications panel in his forearm. “Word gets ‘round quick.”
“Ah.”

There was silence for a few minutes before Jazz asked something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “Hey Spike, what were those ‘phone calls ‘bout?”
“Oh, those?” It was Spike’s turn to grin this time. “Back up.”
“Back up?” Jazz repeated, interest immediately perked. “What grade backup? Like, tank grade back up?”
“Nope. More like a Sabre gunship back up.”
“Nice.”
“I thought so too.” Spike settled back against his rock and took another sip of his beer. “She’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Then th’ fireworks start?”
“Yup.”         




To be perfectly honest, the next day Jazz found himself questioning Spike’s description of the promised reinforcements as being ‘Sabre Gunship’ class.

When the beat-up truck pulled up at the little space neatly signposted as ‘Visitor’s Carpark’ beside the private road to the base, he had expected a big, burly Marine or giant of a menacing and heavily tattooed relative or something to come out.

What he got was a little old lady wearing well worn denim jeans and a black and red chequered shirt, silvery hair pulled back in a short ponytail that brushed her shirt collar as she moved and her face tanned and weathered by the sun.

She smiled up at the crouching Autobot, thumbing back her weathered old hat to get a better look at him. “Well now, you must be Jazz. My grandson has told me so much about you and the rest of your fine crew.” She stepped forward to clasp the index finger of his proffered hand in both of hers. “I must say it is quite the honour to finally be meeting you.”

Jazz smiled back widely in return. “That I am, ma’am. Since y’ seem t’ know all ‘bout me, how’s about tellin’ me ‘bout y’self a lil?”
“Aw now don’t you go calling me ‘ma’am’ young ‘un, I’m too old for fancy titles like that.” The elderly lady shook her head a little, blushing faintly. “Most people just call me Nana Caroline.”
“Then I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Nana Caroline.” Jazz grinned wider. He liked this one, and had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the base shared his view.

“Well, since the introductions have been made, how about you show me where to find this harridan of an old battle-axe that’s been making hell for my grandson?” Nana Caroline inquired, beating the dust out of her hat before settling it back into place.
Jazz chuckled lightly and folded down into vehicle mode, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from his visitor as he did so. “Nana Caroline, I thought you’d never ask.”

0o0o0

He was up to something.

That was Carly’s conclusion when she saw him try to smother a small mischievous grin, one that was usually reserved for when he was hatching some sort of nefarious plot with any one of the Ark’s resident pranksters. Taking a minor in Psychology, and more specifically, taking that course in non-verbal communication, had paid off.  

Keeping her hands under the table to avoid her mother’s gaze ( after one look at the guest list she was lecturing the both of them on the caterer they should use, a moot point since because of finances they had to concede that particular detail to her complete domination anyway) Carly sent a short message to her fiancée.

[You’re smiling]    

The reply came swiftly.

[Yup]

Carly frowned a little, suspicious.

[My mother is here and you’re smiling. My mother is –talking- and you’re smiling.]

[Yup]
   
Definitely suspicious now.

[What did you do?]

She could almost swear he winked at her as he made his reply.

[Oh, nothing much. You’ll find out soon enough ]

Unbeknownst to the others, Spike had plenty of reason to be smiling.

One of his aunties had once described his paternal grandmother as a ‘benevolent avalanche’. Once she got started on something, it was very hard to make her stop.

The third daughter of a wheat farmer, she married an oil-worker at the tender age of 17 and followed her husband to oil-fields around America, producing eight children along the way- three boys and five girls. When her husband finally retired from the fields and settled on a small ranch as a ranch hand, she was right there along side him. In fact, she still lived there with her middle daughter, who had married the eldest son of the ranch owner.

Living in the oil boom towns had not been something for the faint-hearted, among which she certainly did not number. It was a family joke that she used to moonlight as bouncer for the bars, a tale that had arisen after a small incident with a roaring drunk rig worker at least three times her weight and maybe twice her height. He had arrived at the small house and tried to force his way in for some reason that would only make sense to the inebriated.  He left the small house with two black eyes and a broken nose.   

Spike turned his attention back to his mother-in-law to be just as Jazz escorted his grandmother into the room.

“..and you will have to see Francis about the champagne and wine for the reception, he has a range of simply beautiful vintages that will complement each of Joseph’s dishes perfectly…” Scary Lady paused in her monologue to give a hard look at the newcomer. “And whom might you be?” She asked archly, arms folded over her emerald green blouse as she sized up her opponent.

Nana Caroline smiled and hung her hat on the back of a chair. “Most people call me Nana Caroline. I’m the grandmother of this fine young man here.” She replied, giving Spike a hug as he rose to greet her.
“Hey nana, thank you so much for coming.” He grinned widely and kissed her cheek.
“It’s no problem at all to help my favourite grandson with his wedding.” Nana Caroline grinned back and circled the table to greet Carly warmly. “It’s so good to see you again my dear.” She beamed, gently holding the younger woman’s face between her calloused hands. “You are going to be such a beautiful bride!”
Carly bushed. “Thank you Nana Caroline.”
“Now, it’s an outdoors July wedding you wanted, right?” The elderly lady queried.
“Yup, we’re still looking at locations, but it’s going to be June.”
“And do you have a dress yet?”
“No, not yet, I’m still looking for a good one.”
“Well, I think you and I are…”

“It will be an indoors wedding.” Scary Lady interrupted, eyes hard and hands clenched around the table edge, quite unused to being ignored. “Carlene has always said she wanted a chapel wedding in August. And we already have a dress, don’t we Carlene?”

Carly cringed and looked down.

Nana Caroline however, simply straightened and looked right back at the matriarch with an expression that spoke volumes. If Scary Lady was looking for a fight, she just found one.

Spike and Jazz simply sat back to watch with no small level of amusement.

Hands on her hips, Nana Caroline levelled her opponent a glare that only the mother of many rambunctious children could ever produce. “Ma’am,” she began, tone frosty but perfectly courteous, “I mightn’t have been raised in a big house with a fancy education, but I did learn manners, something that it seems your education has left out. Didn’t your nanny ever tell you that interrupting was rude?”
Scary Lady spluttered in indignation. “I refuse to be talked down to by a working-class bumpkin!”
“Well bully for you.” Was the calm reply. “I raised eight darling children and all of them left my house with a decent set of manners. I’ll have no problem teaching you a few as well.”

Scary Lady was going red by this stage, her immaculate breeding and rearing the only reason why she still controlled her growing rage. “I am Carlene’s mother! I will make sure this wedding is perfect!”
“And in lieu of Spike’s dear mother, I am standing in to make sure that he and Carly have the best wedding that they can.” Nana Caroline replied, stressing the references to the young couple. “Carly wants a summer wedding out doors. I suggest you let her.”
“And if I do not?” Scary Lady asked through gritted teeth.
“Then it’s not really her wedding, now is it? You got to choose what you wanted at your wedding, so now you’d better let your daughter have her turn.”
“My wedding was perfect. I am simply making sure that all of my daughters have the same.” Was the frosty reply.  
“Do you mean the same wedding or the same result?” Nana Caroline asked shrewdly, correctly guessing that though her opponent’s nuptials may have been perfect, the home life had not been quite so ideal.

Scary Lady held Nana Caroline’s gaze for several minutes before finally speaking. “I believe it is time for lunch. Do not bother cooking for me, I am going into town.” She announced, then coldly swept out the door.  




Day Three of Autobots (and Nana Caroline) vs Scary Lady dawned dark and foreboding, the ominous stormclouds outside perfectly matching the atmosphere inside the conference room.

Resident Master of Chaos Jazz presided over the entire affair with no small sense of enthusiasm. He had it on good authority that since the arrival of Nana Caroline, or ‘Killer Granny’ as his fellow Autobots had almost unanimously dubbed her, Carly had finally been able to get to sleep without needing to toss and turn for half the night, and Spike no longer had the wary expression that had marred his features since Scary Lady’s arrival.

That was yet another reason to celebrate Killer Granny’s intervention.

Most, if not all of the crew, held a great deal of affection for the two young humans, and the Special Ops knew enough about medicine to realised that the kind of stress they were under wasn’t healthy for anyone. If anything had happened to them because of Scary Lady, be it health-wise or relationship-wise…

Jazz shook his thoughts off that track and turned his attention back outward as the two matriarchs more or less calmly debated the floral arrangements, all the while piping the argument over a general frequency for the enjoyment of his fellow ‘bots. He settled back with a small grin, quite enjoying one of the more simple pleasures of life- watching an arch enemy getting owned.

0o0o0

Down the hall, the lounge was startlingly silent as everyone tuned into Jazz’s broadcast on their internal speakers, save for the occasional chuckle or outright peal of laughter at some comment or another.

Today was one of the days Optimus was glad for his battle mask. He knew that as the Prime he really shouldn’t have been listening in, but the temptation had just proven too great. Even Prowl had fallen victim to it, the usually emotionless warrior betrayed by his muffled chuckle as Killer Granny delivered a sharp rebuttal that actually stunned her opponent into silence.

Blue optics shining with barely contained mirth, the twins looked up at Optimus from the couch they were sprawled on, postures unconsciously mirroring each other.

“I like her.” Sunstreaker announced expansively, actually grinning with approval for once.
“Can we keep her? Please?” His twin chimed in eagerly, sitting up slightly and giving Optimus a look that invoked kittens and lambs and all other such innocent things in an attempt to appeal to the Prime’s soft side.
“Yes! Keep Killer Granny!” Grimlock rumbled his agreement, his Dinobots adding their voices too.

Prime chuckled softly, holding up one hand to stave off any further comments while he answered an alert from Hound, then spoke aloud to the increasingly enthusiastic crowd. “You’ll have to ask Spike about that, she is his grandmother after all.”

There were a few rumblings of mild disappointment at that, but they quickly faded back into silence as everyone tuned into the special broadcast, Eject and Rewind amusing themselves (and everyone else within hearing range) by providing commentary.

Optimus turned to leave, but a flash of white amongst the various colours on the trophy wall caught his attention. Mug in one hand, he drew closer to investigate and promptly startled every occupant of the room by letting out a deep, rolling chuckle. “It appears our mystery cartoonist has struck again.” He said by way of explanation, moving aside to let the others see.

Pinned to the wall was a medium sized (by their standards) sheet of laminated paper, the words ‘Scaryladytron’ carefully printed at the top in bold purple letters for all to see. Below it stood the familiar image of Carly’s mother, the characteristic icy stare and crossed arms further sharpened by being drawn in the form of a classic Decepticon  Seekerfemme, swept back wings arched up in a threatening posture and her form literally bristling with various instruments of painful and violent death.  Caricatures of Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave were huddled off to one side of the picture, clutching each other in various postures of wide-eyed terror.

All in all, it was quite good.

“I wonder..” Wheeljack mused, one hand rubbing the bottom of his mask thoughtfully “..what might happen if Megatron did manage to recruit Scary Lady.”
“Frack no!” Sideswipe yelped, both twins hastily making the sign to ward off the Unmaker. “Don’t jinx it!”
“Yeah, don’t jinx!” Slag chimed in.

Prime frowned slightly, his good humour quickly evaporating as he considered the ugly spectre that Wheeljack had inadvertently raised. The wedding would be a perfect time for Megatron to launch an attack, and he had little doubt that the secret preparations could remain that way for long. He made a note to bring it up at the morning briefing before Prowl left on his enforced vacation. Though he had little doubt that Red Alert was already preparing for it, he wasn’t about to leave anything to chance.