Obedient Solarflare
Featuring Optimus Prime

“You were warned about bating Red Alert, Solarflare.”

Crest low, she could not look the tall commander in the optic. She had royally screwed up this time. How often had either Prowl or Ironhide mentioned that she should be careful about goading the security director? Of course, she had ignored them, thinking that since everyone else seemed to get away with it, and that Red’s explosiveness was merely vindictive. She had been wrong. She had flipped the red and white Lamborghini off one too many times.

“Aye, sir,” she mumbled.

Large blue feet shuffled along the bright orange tile that she was currently staring at with intense concentration. “As much as it pains me, I am obligated to remind you that you are not special, Solarflare. You are no longer new at this base, and thus I expect the same level of performance – and respect – from you as I do all the others. Am I clear?”

“Aye, sir.”

The blue feet shifted. “Two weeks punishment detail. You will report to Prowl first thing in the morning to clean the outer rim weapons. Understood?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Dismissed, Solarflare.”