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fandomweekly2019-02-25 12:01 am
autobotscoutriella) wrote in fandomweekly2019-02-25 12:01 am
Entry tags:
[#008] Worth It (Transformers)
Theme Prompt: #008 - Schadenfreude
Title: Worth It
Fandom: Transformers (Bayverse)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / Language (alien equivalents), battle damage
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 990
Summary: Blackout is not the most sympathetic of welcoming committees. The scorpion drone would probably be better at it.
The rattle of Scorponok's claws echoing on the metal floor announced the drone's return, though the rotorflier hadn't needed that to tell him it was coming. The rhythmic click patterns it used to communicate with had reached his comm line long before.
“Patrol's back, huh?” Blackout rose, clicking to the drone, which hopped up and settled into its cocoon under his rotors. “Let's go see what the tetracat dragged in.”
Strictly speaking, Blackout didn’t need to meet the patrol, or what was left of it. But he’d seen just enough to be curious, and suppressing curiosity had never been his strong suit.
In the cavernous cargo hold that the Nemesis's on-ramp opened into, Barricade would have looked tiny under any circumstances. At less than half Blackout’s size, the ex-enforcer was one of the smallest non-drone Decepticon, and looked even smaller with an arm missing and one leg tightened into a limp. The snarl stamped on his features indicated he knew it perfectly well.
Granted, a snarl wasn't too far off from Barricade's usual expression, but it was less intimidating than usual. Hard to look threatening after obviously, badly, losing.
That probably shouldn't be amusing. It was. Tiny and outraged was a hell of a combination.
“What happened to you?” Blackout leaned down from the walkway to get a better look. That was a lot of damage. Pity. They weren’t in a position to lose fighters, and if the medics had to waste supplies and time rebuilding Barricade’s arm, the army would be down a soldier for weeks. “Let me guess, a flock of angry waveriders?”
Barricade froze in place for a few seconds, the only sign he gave of being startled, and flashed an obscene gesture in Blackout’s general direction with his remaining hand. “Get fragged.”
“I'll leave that to you.” Blackout smirked at the look of incoherent rage that crossed Barricade's face at that. Winding up his fellow Decepticons was a dangerous but thoroughly rewarding pastime. “Where's your arm?”
“What part of get fragged did you not understand?” Barricade spat in Blackout's general direction and started limping toward the end of the cargo hold again. “It's none of your damn business what happened.”
It was easy enough to match Barricade's pace, considering Blackout only had to take one step for every one of the smaller mech's three. “Lost a fistfight? Gunfight? Don't tell me you let someone get close enough with a sword to take the whole arm.”
Barricade's growl echoed off the walls, prompting a glitchmouse to scuttle out of the wall wiring. Scorponok perked up immediately, dropped out of its cocoon, and scrabbled off after it with a few clicks. Blackout could have summoned it back, but that would have required taking his attention off Barricade, and the drone didn’t get to hunt all that often anyway. “Come on. Tell me it wasn’t a crash.”
“If I shoot you, will you shut up?” Barricade snarled. Blackout grinned, even though Barricade wasn’t looking at him.
“You'll have to report eventually. Might as well own up to it.” Word spread fast in Decepticon Command, even when it wasn’t supposed to. There wasn't a lot of entertainment to be had while scouring the universe for traces of Megatron or the Allspark.
Barricade turned just enough to sneer up at the catwalk. “As if I care.”
“If you don't, then tell me.” Blackout hooked one hand into the pipework overhead and leaned out over the floor and the mech far below. “Where's your arm?”
He imagined he could hear Barricade's teeth grinding before the smaller mech snapped out, “Fine. The 'Bots ambushed us before we got more than a mile onto that damn moon. They knew we were coming. The whole slagging thing was a trap, and they hit us from behind as soon as we were out of spacebridge range. And because Starscream sent me with a handful of drones instead of real soldiers, they kicked our collective aft. That what you wanna hear, huh?”
Hm. Anticlimactic. That was disappointing. Blackout smirked at his smaller comrade anyway. “No, I wanted to hear where your arm is.”
Barricade growled, claws reaching over to scrape at the rough patchwork of metal covering his arm socket. “Guess.”
“Wrapped around a rock on that moon, I take it.” Blackout let out a subsonic click, summoning Scorponok back from where it was poking around under a pile of sheet metal. It chittered over the comm line and came back, reluctantly.
Barricade grumbled something unintelligible and started limping away, the scrape-scrape-scrape of his damaged foot dragging on the ground echoing off the walls. “Bite me. You're the one cooling his plating safe and sound back on the ship.”
Blackout chuckled and watched him go until Scorponok had settled back into its cocoon. Once Barricade was just far enough away that coming back would be more trouble than it was worth, he pulled the twisted hunk of metal out of his subspace and tossed it to land next to the smaller mech.
Barricade picked up his arm with his remaining hand, stared at it in disbelief, and rounded on Blackout in fury. “You had it the whole time?”
“Whole lot of rubble came through the space bridge. Scorponok went digging. Had to wonder how that got there.”
“You fragger. You had my arm the whole damn time and didn't mention it?” Barricade hissed, crimson optics burning with rage. “You son of a glitch—”
“You're welcome.” Blackout took another moment to enjoy Barricade's angry spluttering before turning his back on the cargo hold and the outraged smaller Decepticon. “It’ll take Shrapnel less time to put a whole arm back than piecing together a new one. You can thank me later.”
He’d pay for that eventually, he knew. Barricade had a vindictive streak a mile wide, and no doubt the next time he lost a rotor in some fight he’d never hear the end of it.
Worth it.
Title: Worth It
Fandom: Transformers (Bayverse)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / Language (alien equivalents), battle damage
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 990
Summary: Blackout is not the most sympathetic of welcoming committees. The scorpion drone would probably be better at it.
The rattle of Scorponok's claws echoing on the metal floor announced the drone's return, though the rotorflier hadn't needed that to tell him it was coming. The rhythmic click patterns it used to communicate with had reached his comm line long before.
“Patrol's back, huh?” Blackout rose, clicking to the drone, which hopped up and settled into its cocoon under his rotors. “Let's go see what the tetracat dragged in.”
Strictly speaking, Blackout didn’t need to meet the patrol, or what was left of it. But he’d seen just enough to be curious, and suppressing curiosity had never been his strong suit.
In the cavernous cargo hold that the Nemesis's on-ramp opened into, Barricade would have looked tiny under any circumstances. At less than half Blackout’s size, the ex-enforcer was one of the smallest non-drone Decepticon, and looked even smaller with an arm missing and one leg tightened into a limp. The snarl stamped on his features indicated he knew it perfectly well.
Granted, a snarl wasn't too far off from Barricade's usual expression, but it was less intimidating than usual. Hard to look threatening after obviously, badly, losing.
That probably shouldn't be amusing. It was. Tiny and outraged was a hell of a combination.
“What happened to you?” Blackout leaned down from the walkway to get a better look. That was a lot of damage. Pity. They weren’t in a position to lose fighters, and if the medics had to waste supplies and time rebuilding Barricade’s arm, the army would be down a soldier for weeks. “Let me guess, a flock of angry waveriders?”
Barricade froze in place for a few seconds, the only sign he gave of being startled, and flashed an obscene gesture in Blackout’s general direction with his remaining hand. “Get fragged.”
“I'll leave that to you.” Blackout smirked at the look of incoherent rage that crossed Barricade's face at that. Winding up his fellow Decepticons was a dangerous but thoroughly rewarding pastime. “Where's your arm?”
“What part of get fragged did you not understand?” Barricade spat in Blackout's general direction and started limping toward the end of the cargo hold again. “It's none of your damn business what happened.”
It was easy enough to match Barricade's pace, considering Blackout only had to take one step for every one of the smaller mech's three. “Lost a fistfight? Gunfight? Don't tell me you let someone get close enough with a sword to take the whole arm.”
Barricade's growl echoed off the walls, prompting a glitchmouse to scuttle out of the wall wiring. Scorponok perked up immediately, dropped out of its cocoon, and scrabbled off after it with a few clicks. Blackout could have summoned it back, but that would have required taking his attention off Barricade, and the drone didn’t get to hunt all that often anyway. “Come on. Tell me it wasn’t a crash.”
“If I shoot you, will you shut up?” Barricade snarled. Blackout grinned, even though Barricade wasn’t looking at him.
“You'll have to report eventually. Might as well own up to it.” Word spread fast in Decepticon Command, even when it wasn’t supposed to. There wasn't a lot of entertainment to be had while scouring the universe for traces of Megatron or the Allspark.
Barricade turned just enough to sneer up at the catwalk. “As if I care.”
“If you don't, then tell me.” Blackout hooked one hand into the pipework overhead and leaned out over the floor and the mech far below. “Where's your arm?”
He imagined he could hear Barricade's teeth grinding before the smaller mech snapped out, “Fine. The 'Bots ambushed us before we got more than a mile onto that damn moon. They knew we were coming. The whole slagging thing was a trap, and they hit us from behind as soon as we were out of spacebridge range. And because Starscream sent me with a handful of drones instead of real soldiers, they kicked our collective aft. That what you wanna hear, huh?”
Hm. Anticlimactic. That was disappointing. Blackout smirked at his smaller comrade anyway. “No, I wanted to hear where your arm is.”
Barricade growled, claws reaching over to scrape at the rough patchwork of metal covering his arm socket. “Guess.”
“Wrapped around a rock on that moon, I take it.” Blackout let out a subsonic click, summoning Scorponok back from where it was poking around under a pile of sheet metal. It chittered over the comm line and came back, reluctantly.
Barricade grumbled something unintelligible and started limping away, the scrape-scrape-scrape of his damaged foot dragging on the ground echoing off the walls. “Bite me. You're the one cooling his plating safe and sound back on the ship.”
Blackout chuckled and watched him go until Scorponok had settled back into its cocoon. Once Barricade was just far enough away that coming back would be more trouble than it was worth, he pulled the twisted hunk of metal out of his subspace and tossed it to land next to the smaller mech.
Barricade picked up his arm with his remaining hand, stared at it in disbelief, and rounded on Blackout in fury. “You had it the whole time?”
“Whole lot of rubble came through the space bridge. Scorponok went digging. Had to wonder how that got there.”
“You fragger. You had my arm the whole damn time and didn't mention it?” Barricade hissed, crimson optics burning with rage. “You son of a glitch—”
“You're welcome.” Blackout took another moment to enjoy Barricade's angry spluttering before turning his back on the cargo hold and the outraged smaller Decepticon. “It’ll take Shrapnel less time to put a whole arm back than piecing together a new one. You can thank me later.”
He’d pay for that eventually, he knew. Barricade had a vindictive streak a mile wide, and no doubt the next time he lost a rotor in some fight he’d never hear the end of it.
Worth it.