A Crude Awakening
WHO: IDW!Megatron and Animated!Dirge
WHAT: Bringing the Malgian jet back to life.
WHERE: The Hollow Tunnels, Zone 6.
WHEN: Backdated to before Starscream's return
WARNINGS/NOTES:
Warnings for Dirge, as always.
It was hard to tell them apart in death, both forms grey and lying silent, twins in model and in fate. The silence was the hardest part to endure, his audials straining for the tell-tale signs of recharge that would never come. Cybertronians could be impossibly still...
But they always made noise. The quiet whirring of a processor, the slow suction of ventilation, the loud thrum of engines, the tiny clicks of a hundred different working servos within. Even in hibernation, not all systems shut down, and if one was absolutely quiet there would be some sound to note--something as tiny as a high-pitched whining capacitance, slowly leaking out the life-sustaining energy that kept a spark online.
This time, there was not.
There were two empty spark chambers, two identical pairs of unfocused optics, two grey sets of wings.
And this one, here, was Dirge.
He knew, because it had been the one he'd needed to have repaired, getting the cockpit fixed and resealed, wondering at the large supply of orange glass the Swindles had in stock. Could their have been so much demand for it?
Knowing Dirge, the answer was yes.
Briefly, he'd toyed with putting the fragment back in Starscream's shell...
But that seemed to break a pact he had made to himself and to the jets. He'd killed Dirge, to give the Air Commander a chance. Starscream had taken his chance, and it had failed as Starscream plots so often did.
Now, it was Dirge's turn.
He pulled the shard from within his subspace, knelt by the prostrate form, and placed the crystal where he'd found it, before.
Then he sat back, and waited.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
WHAT: Bringing the Malgian jet back to life.
WHERE: The Hollow Tunnels, Zone 6.
WHEN: Backdated to before Starscream's return
WARNINGS/NOTES:
Warnings for Dirge, as always.
It was hard to tell them apart in death, both forms grey and lying silent, twins in model and in fate. The silence was the hardest part to endure, his audials straining for the tell-tale signs of recharge that would never come. Cybertronians could be impossibly still...
But they always made noise. The quiet whirring of a processor, the slow suction of ventilation, the loud thrum of engines, the tiny clicks of a hundred different working servos within. Even in hibernation, not all systems shut down, and if one was absolutely quiet there would be some sound to note--something as tiny as a high-pitched whining capacitance, slowly leaking out the life-sustaining energy that kept a spark online.
This time, there was not.
There were two empty spark chambers, two identical pairs of unfocused optics, two grey sets of wings.
And this one, here, was Dirge.
He knew, because it had been the one he'd needed to have repaired, getting the cockpit fixed and resealed, wondering at the large supply of orange glass the Swindles had in stock. Could their have been so much demand for it?
Knowing Dirge, the answer was yes.
Briefly, he'd toyed with putting the fragment back in Starscream's shell...
But that seemed to break a pact he had made to himself and to the jets. He'd killed Dirge, to give the Air Commander a chance. Starscream had taken his chance, and it had failed as Starscream plots so often did.
Now, it was Dirge's turn.
He pulled the shard from within his subspace, knelt by the prostrate form, and placed the crystal where he'd found it, before.
Then he sat back, and waited.
~~~~~~~~~~~~