31_days - Flexagon Fic
Title: Bartending. In the Dark.
Day/Theme: Aug. 10 'Quick at your word, all skill, grace,
He is, but for death his passion, flawless.'
Series: Transformers
Character/Pairing: Flexagon, Treadset, narrator
Rating: PG
Summary: An Autobot recalls a particularly memorable Transformer he met before the Great War.
Author's Notes: Title is from a Fandom_Wank meme, since I couldn't think of anything else relevent this late at night.
This takes place in the late Golden Age. City name, Treadset's name, and the "white as titanium dioxide, green as silicon sheet" bit came from Lunatron. Many thanks to her.
---
The mech was prettier than he had any right to be in Lower Perihex. White as titanium dioxide, green as silicon sheet, shaped as delicately and with as much care as a transformation cog. He moved like a dancer and danced like a ghost.
I never saw him transform once while he worked down at Ampersand. Never saw him do much of anything except dance for the crowds and refuse the kind of offers that most other dancers made their livelihoods off of down here. Dozer thought he thought he was too good for the likes of us. Me, I didn't talk about him if I could help it, or to him, for that matter. I just worked the bar.
His name was Flexagon, and he had an accent like he was from somewhere out east. You could hear the Gs on the ends of his progressive verbs - all "going" and "coming" and "dancing". Made a few of the local audials' circuits sizzle.
Like I said, he was real pretty and real good at what he did. Word of that sort of things gets around, y'know? Now the boss didn't mind the additional customers, but some of 'em were a little... weird. Treadset was the worst of them.
Big, bulky tank, brown as rust and copper. Dockworker as far as I knew, though there were rumours he made money on the side pit-fighting. Yeah, a proper Autobot would report that kind of illegal dross, but when you're living in Lower Perihex, you don't give a corroded carbeurator what proper Autobots think. We were just folks that were trying to get by.
Treadset liked to stay until Flexagon's last dance, and the boss liked for Flexagon to dance until closing. It didn't seem to bother him much, but Treadset trying to talk to him off-stage did. I thought getting sneered at by up-city fliers was bad, but the expression on Flexagon's face just made me want to cringe away. He wasn't even directing it at me, either.
Guess some people are too stupid, though, 'cause Treadset kept hassling him. Usually when the bouncers were too busy to toss him out on his skidplate, but sometimes they'd get to him. Really riled up Flexagon, though.
It all came to a head one night after closing. I just stepped out in the back alley when I heard the sound of a body slumping to the ground. You get real familiar with those sounds down there.
Of course I looked. And there's Treadset, leaking in the back alley, and Flexagon looking... scary. A little smile on his face, and lubricants dripping down his fingers. No weapons in his hands, but I sure as the Pit wasn't going to ask him how he gutted a tank two-thirds again as big as him. I'm not stupid.
His optics were half-lidded, which was weird, but they were disgustingly green, and it was better to see as little of them as possible. I may not be a good mech, but I am a pious one. Ain't no good reason for a Transformer to have green optics. Nothing good ever comes of it.
Then the strange little shields slipped back under his facial armor, and his smile widened a little bit. "Well. He won't bother me again. Good night."
Like I said, I didn't talk to him if I could help it.
Not surprised he's a Decepticon now. He's got the taste for it.
Day/Theme: Aug. 10 'Quick at your word, all skill, grace,
He is, but for death his passion, flawless.'
Series: Transformers
Character/Pairing: Flexagon, Treadset, narrator
Rating: PG
Summary: An Autobot recalls a particularly memorable Transformer he met before the Great War.
Author's Notes: Title is from a Fandom_Wank meme, since I couldn't think of anything else relevent this late at night.
This takes place in the late Golden Age. City name, Treadset's name, and the "white as titanium dioxide, green as silicon sheet" bit came from Lunatron. Many thanks to her.
---
The mech was prettier than he had any right to be in Lower Perihex. White as titanium dioxide, green as silicon sheet, shaped as delicately and with as much care as a transformation cog. He moved like a dancer and danced like a ghost.
I never saw him transform once while he worked down at Ampersand. Never saw him do much of anything except dance for the crowds and refuse the kind of offers that most other dancers made their livelihoods off of down here. Dozer thought he thought he was too good for the likes of us. Me, I didn't talk about him if I could help it, or to him, for that matter. I just worked the bar.
His name was Flexagon, and he had an accent like he was from somewhere out east. You could hear the Gs on the ends of his progressive verbs - all "going" and "coming" and "dancing". Made a few of the local audials' circuits sizzle.
Like I said, he was real pretty and real good at what he did. Word of that sort of things gets around, y'know? Now the boss didn't mind the additional customers, but some of 'em were a little... weird. Treadset was the worst of them.
Big, bulky tank, brown as rust and copper. Dockworker as far as I knew, though there were rumours he made money on the side pit-fighting. Yeah, a proper Autobot would report that kind of illegal dross, but when you're living in Lower Perihex, you don't give a corroded carbeurator what proper Autobots think. We were just folks that were trying to get by.
Treadset liked to stay until Flexagon's last dance, and the boss liked for Flexagon to dance until closing. It didn't seem to bother him much, but Treadset trying to talk to him off-stage did. I thought getting sneered at by up-city fliers was bad, but the expression on Flexagon's face just made me want to cringe away. He wasn't even directing it at me, either.
Guess some people are too stupid, though, 'cause Treadset kept hassling him. Usually when the bouncers were too busy to toss him out on his skidplate, but sometimes they'd get to him. Really riled up Flexagon, though.
It all came to a head one night after closing. I just stepped out in the back alley when I heard the sound of a body slumping to the ground. You get real familiar with those sounds down there.
Of course I looked. And there's Treadset, leaking in the back alley, and Flexagon looking... scary. A little smile on his face, and lubricants dripping down his fingers. No weapons in his hands, but I sure as the Pit wasn't going to ask him how he gutted a tank two-thirds again as big as him. I'm not stupid.
His optics were half-lidded, which was weird, but they were disgustingly green, and it was better to see as little of them as possible. I may not be a good mech, but I am a pious one. Ain't no good reason for a Transformer to have green optics. Nothing good ever comes of it.
Then the strange little shields slipped back under his facial armor, and his smile widened a little bit. "Well. He won't bother me again. Good night."
Like I said, I didn't talk to him if I could help it.
Not surprised he's a Decepticon now. He's got the taste for it.