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Size Matters

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Size Matters

"Here, let me get that for you."

"What? I'm just as tall as you are-"

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're slagging-well not. I'm the biggest."

"We've always been an even match. Same height. Same mass – except when you were trying out that ridiculous gun alt-mode..."

"Oh-ho! An insult! It seems we've touched a nerve here, 'Bots and 'Cons. I see that height's an important issue with you then. Could it be the mighty Prime's attempting to make up for some other deficiencies?" The tall gray mech called out across the Command Center. "Elita! We need an expert witness over here, if you've got a minute!"

She rolled her optics heavenward, but shut down the 3-D citymap she'd been examining. "What is it this time, boys?" she asked impatiently.

Megatron rolled on one heel so he stood with his back to Prime's. "Who's taller?" he asked bluntly.

"Neither of you," said Elita, with barely a glance at the two mechs. "You're both exactly the same height."

"See? I told you," Optimus proclaimed, waving a finger in the Decepticon's direction.

Suspicious, Megatron cast a glance over his shoulder. "Hey!" He protested. "Finials don't count!"

"Oh yes they do," retorted Prime. "My finials are epic. You only wish you had them. They make me look quite dashing. Ask Elita. She'll agree with me. Hey, sweetheart-"

But Elita just huffed in annoyance, turned her back, and headed back to her workstation. "Boys!" She grumbled in an undertone. She'd never, ever let them know she found their antics endearing. She squared her shoulders. Some element of this so-called leadership had better do its job, and right now that was going to be her.

"Finials count," said Prime again, making a stand.

"Well then," said Megatron. "If we're counting extensions..." He spread his gilded crest to its fullest reach, and bowed flamboyantly. "Who's tallest now, punkaft?"

"Hey!" yelped Prime, rising a little on his tiptoes, and looking back anxiously to see if the Official Score had changed.

"You started it," said Megatron.

"Did not! Besides, at least I don't have a sunflower head."

"A what now?"

"It's Earth flora. You look like one right now. Ha ha." Prime gave his Brother his best sneer.

Megatron's gaze grew cold. "You're comparing the glorious Megatron to a piece of Earth dirt?"

"If the wingnut fits..."

"That's it!" Megatron balled a fist.

"Is that so? Then it's on!"

Scuffles ensued.

"Oh, boys..."

They turned, surprised at being interrupted.

"I know how to resolve this height issue once and for all."

They leaned in, curious. "How?"

She beckoned with a finger. "Come closer. And I'll tell you."

The two mechs bent to hear what wisdom Elita had to say.

She reached up, took their heads in her two hands, and claaannggg-ed them both together, hard. "That ought to do it," she declared, dusting off her hands with a pleased flourish. "I'll wager height's not nearly so important now, is it?"

The two mechs staggered back from her, moaning and holding their bruised craniums.

"Ratchet?" called Prime in what in any other mech would have been called a whimper.

"Hook?" mewled Megatron, stumbling out through an adjacent doorway.