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fandomweekly2024-04-14 02:42 pm
autobotscoutriella) wrote in fandomweekly2024-04-14 02:42 pm
Entry tags:
[#216] Precision Work (Transformers)
Theme Prompt: 216 - Meticulous
Title: Precision Work
Fandom: Transformers (continuity not specified)
Rating/Warnings: G / None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 965
Summary: Chromia doesn't really care for repair work, but watching Elita do it isn't so bad.
Chromia had never really been one for precision work.
There wasn't anything wrong with the concept, as a concept. Some jobs needed a scalpel, not a wrecking ball. But she was a wrecking-ball kind of mech, always had been, with the skillset to match. As far as she was concerned, she was wasted on anything that needed that kind of attention to detail; she didn't have the patience for it, and she sure as Pit didn't have the inclination. Why pick a lock when you could rip off the handle and kick down the door?
"Because sometimes you spend a couple years in the lowest-budget apartment you can find and get tired of paying door repair fees when the keypad frags itself again," Elita said dryly from the floor. "Stop pacing. I'm almost done."
"Is that why you know how to pick locks? And here I thought you were hiding some secret criminal past from me."
"Shh, I'm concentrating," Elita said, a smile in her voice. Chromia grinned and crouched down beside her to look at the open keypad panel.
"Are you sure you can't just shoot the lock?"
Elita held up a hand, flicking up one finger at a time. "Residential building codes don't use anti-ricochet shielding, energon's volatile enough to catch from a blaster bolt, I want to get the keypad repaired after I get the door open..."
"All right, all right, I get it." Chromia slid over to make room when Elita poked an elbow into her chassis. Tangled wires and broken connectors spilled out of the panel in a vaguely obscene-looking loose coil. "Oh, hey, I think I've seen this porn."
Elita snorted with laughter and almost dropped the screwdriver. "If you make me laugh while I'm working, I'm going to stab this thing, and then we'll have to call an actual repair tech and I am going to tell them it's all your fault."
"Hey, I didn't install this piece of scrap." Elita elbowed her again, and Chromia obediently sat back on her heels, out of the way. "Okay, okay. I'll shut up."
She couldn't pretend she understood a damn thing Elita was doing. The wires all looked about the same to her - different thicknesses, or different connectors, but the same basic design. Whoever designed the unit hadn't even bothered to put in wires in different colors; apparently the action holovids lied about that being a standard feature. That figured. If it looked convenient in a holovid, the real thing was probably the opposite of convenient and came with paperwork attached.
Elita obviously knew what she was up to, though. She worked fast, prying connectors apart with the screwdriver, twisting wires together, pulling them apart, and stripping the insulation with the precision of a mech who'd done it a thousand times. A few sparks flashed, dancing blue and gold against the gray unit, and Elita's optics narrowed in sharp-edged satisfaction.
"Good sign?" Chromia said hopefully.
"Good sign. Let me just -" More sparks flashed, and the lights on the keypad flickered briefly to life. Elita clenched a fist triumphantly. "There it is. Told you I could get it working myself."
"Well, the door's not open yet." Chromia grinned at the mock glare Elita threw her way. "Okay, okay. Shutting up."
Elita flashed a quick smile and turned her attention back to the wires. Chromia watched her hands instead of the wires this time, flexible black and pink metal twisting and tugging at stubborn components with surprising dexterity for someone Elita's size. If Chromia had stuck her hands in that mess, she would have ended up with something caught in her joints, probably a couple of burns, and a thoroughly broken lock, and Elita's fingers were longer and heavier-plated than her own. Precision work indeed, and worth watching even if she had no idea what she was looking at.
The lock clicked and hummed to life, lights whirring up through a quick green-blue-yellow series before settling on a reassuring bright red. Elita cautiously let go of the wires, and the lights stayed on. "There. Hit the button, will you?"
Chromia leaned over to tap the activator pad without getting up. The lights flashed, and the refrigeration unit door popped open with a cheerful ding.
Elita sat back on her heels and grinned. "And that's why I haven't had to call a repair tech in years."
"I mean, you could've thought about getting a refrigeration unit without the fancy keypads?" Chromia laughed at the look of mock offense on Elita's face. "I swear, sometimes I think you like it when something breaks so you can turn it into a project."
"Says the mech building a collection of battleaxes in our room for every possible occasion."
Chromia held up a finger. "Hey, if you hadn't figured out that lock, my battleaxe collection would have gotten us into the unit, no problem."
"And wrecked half the cubes and set off an energon explosion that'd blow us and the unit through the wall?" Elita said dryly, reaching up to grab two cubes. Chromia accepted the one Elita held out to her and sat back against the wall, cycling her shoulder fins forward to get them out of the way.
"That only happened once."
"And we almost got evicted, remember?"
"Almost isn't actually."
Elita laughed. "Not every problem needs a blunt solution. Next time it goes out, I'll teach you. All it takes is a little patience and a little precision."
"I have no idea why you think I have either of those," Chromia said. Elita just grinned and picked up the screwdriver again.
"That's fine. I've got enough for both of us."
If nothing else, Chromia thought, optics already drawn to Elita’s hands tangling in the wires again, at least she’d enjoy the demonstration.
Title: Precision Work
Fandom: Transformers (continuity not specified)
Rating/Warnings: G / None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 965
Summary: Chromia doesn't really care for repair work, but watching Elita do it isn't so bad.
Chromia had never really been one for precision work.
There wasn't anything wrong with the concept, as a concept. Some jobs needed a scalpel, not a wrecking ball. But she was a wrecking-ball kind of mech, always had been, with the skillset to match. As far as she was concerned, she was wasted on anything that needed that kind of attention to detail; she didn't have the patience for it, and she sure as Pit didn't have the inclination. Why pick a lock when you could rip off the handle and kick down the door?
"Because sometimes you spend a couple years in the lowest-budget apartment you can find and get tired of paying door repair fees when the keypad frags itself again," Elita said dryly from the floor. "Stop pacing. I'm almost done."
"Is that why you know how to pick locks? And here I thought you were hiding some secret criminal past from me."
"Shh, I'm concentrating," Elita said, a smile in her voice. Chromia grinned and crouched down beside her to look at the open keypad panel.
"Are you sure you can't just shoot the lock?"
Elita held up a hand, flicking up one finger at a time. "Residential building codes don't use anti-ricochet shielding, energon's volatile enough to catch from a blaster bolt, I want to get the keypad repaired after I get the door open..."
"All right, all right, I get it." Chromia slid over to make room when Elita poked an elbow into her chassis. Tangled wires and broken connectors spilled out of the panel in a vaguely obscene-looking loose coil. "Oh, hey, I think I've seen this porn."
Elita snorted with laughter and almost dropped the screwdriver. "If you make me laugh while I'm working, I'm going to stab this thing, and then we'll have to call an actual repair tech and I am going to tell them it's all your fault."
"Hey, I didn't install this piece of scrap." Elita elbowed her again, and Chromia obediently sat back on her heels, out of the way. "Okay, okay. I'll shut up."
She couldn't pretend she understood a damn thing Elita was doing. The wires all looked about the same to her - different thicknesses, or different connectors, but the same basic design. Whoever designed the unit hadn't even bothered to put in wires in different colors; apparently the action holovids lied about that being a standard feature. That figured. If it looked convenient in a holovid, the real thing was probably the opposite of convenient and came with paperwork attached.
Elita obviously knew what she was up to, though. She worked fast, prying connectors apart with the screwdriver, twisting wires together, pulling them apart, and stripping the insulation with the precision of a mech who'd done it a thousand times. A few sparks flashed, dancing blue and gold against the gray unit, and Elita's optics narrowed in sharp-edged satisfaction.
"Good sign?" Chromia said hopefully.
"Good sign. Let me just -" More sparks flashed, and the lights on the keypad flickered briefly to life. Elita clenched a fist triumphantly. "There it is. Told you I could get it working myself."
"Well, the door's not open yet." Chromia grinned at the mock glare Elita threw her way. "Okay, okay. Shutting up."
Elita flashed a quick smile and turned her attention back to the wires. Chromia watched her hands instead of the wires this time, flexible black and pink metal twisting and tugging at stubborn components with surprising dexterity for someone Elita's size. If Chromia had stuck her hands in that mess, she would have ended up with something caught in her joints, probably a couple of burns, and a thoroughly broken lock, and Elita's fingers were longer and heavier-plated than her own. Precision work indeed, and worth watching even if she had no idea what she was looking at.
The lock clicked and hummed to life, lights whirring up through a quick green-blue-yellow series before settling on a reassuring bright red. Elita cautiously let go of the wires, and the lights stayed on. "There. Hit the button, will you?"
Chromia leaned over to tap the activator pad without getting up. The lights flashed, and the refrigeration unit door popped open with a cheerful ding.
Elita sat back on her heels and grinned. "And that's why I haven't had to call a repair tech in years."
"I mean, you could've thought about getting a refrigeration unit without the fancy keypads?" Chromia laughed at the look of mock offense on Elita's face. "I swear, sometimes I think you like it when something breaks so you can turn it into a project."
"Says the mech building a collection of battleaxes in our room for every possible occasion."
Chromia held up a finger. "Hey, if you hadn't figured out that lock, my battleaxe collection would have gotten us into the unit, no problem."
"And wrecked half the cubes and set off an energon explosion that'd blow us and the unit through the wall?" Elita said dryly, reaching up to grab two cubes. Chromia accepted the one Elita held out to her and sat back against the wall, cycling her shoulder fins forward to get them out of the way.
"That only happened once."
"And we almost got evicted, remember?"
"Almost isn't actually."
Elita laughed. "Not every problem needs a blunt solution. Next time it goes out, I'll teach you. All it takes is a little patience and a little precision."
"I have no idea why you think I have either of those," Chromia said. Elita just grinned and picked up the screwdriver again.
"That's fine. I've got enough for both of us."
If nothing else, Chromia thought, optics already drawn to Elita’s hands tangling in the wires again, at least she’d enjoy the demonstration.