Fourth Day of Christmas
Title: Best Laid Plans
Fandom: G1 Transformers
Characters: Silverbolt/Motormaster, Dead End, Skydive, the rest of the Aerialbots and Stunticons
Rating: PG
Word Count: 700+
Summary: At least the mission briefing hasn't gone horribly wrong.
Author's Notes: I am so rusty with these guys. SO RUSTY.
Best Laid Plans
***
"-Likely, of course, we will simply be caught in its gears and ground to so much scrap-metal, thus rendering this entire mission moot and dooming Cybertron to an agonizing death," Dead End said as he concluded the briefing.
"Thank you, Dead End," Silverbolt said, glancing at his team. Fireflight wasn't even paying attention, Slingshot was glaring at the Stunticons, Air Raid looked excited, and Skydive looked thoughtful. About as expected. "Skydive, is there anything you'd like to add?"
Motormaster's engine growled. All of the other Aerialbots and Stunticons both glanced at the massive grey truck.
Silverbolt selected an icon on his datapad and ostentatiously ignored the sound of displeasure. They were joint-commanders of this mission, not commander and lieutenant, and he would not be intimidated into forgetting that. "Skydive?"
The grey jet's ailerons flipped back and forth, the equivalent to Spike's gesture of giving himself a shake when he wanted to resettle his thoughts. "Well. Dead End has covered all of the ways the mission could go wrong that I can think of-"
"-Undoubtedly, something will come out of nowhere that none of us knew or imagined, and no one else will ever know or imagine it because of how quickly it kills us."
"Thank you, Dead End. Skydive?" Silverbolt kept his voice level and pleasant, and the Stunticons just stared at him. There was a lot of uncertainty in their looks, edged with fear, and Silverbolt found it rather fascinating. He wondered if they'd continue to get more scared as he continued to be polite to them.
(He tried not to wonder why they reacted this way at all.)
"This situation looks a lot better than Dead End painted it," Skydive said, then began to point out where he thought things would be better or at least not as bad as Dead End's more realistic assessments.
//He's optimistic,// Motormaster rumbled over Silverbolt's radio. //Soft. Like you. Next time the skullhead snaps and attacks someone, you crack his cockpit so he learns better.//
//That's not how I handle my team.//
//No wonder they get away from you half the time.//
Silverbolt smiled slightly and didn't reply. He'd gotten similar instructions from various Autobot officers over the years. Never so violent, of course, but everyone felt he should keep the Aerialbots on a shorter leash. He found it wasn't worth his time to explain that a shorter leash would have made them even more uncontrollable.
Skydive wrapped up a minute later, and Silverbolt inclined his head to his gestaltmate.
"Thank you, Skydive." He glanced at Motormaster to see if the Stunticon commander had anything to say. He found himself meeting hard purple optics and harder mouth that slowly curved into a smile.
//'Bout time he shut up,// Motormaster drawled over the radio. //When are you? I've got a better use for that mouth of yours.//
Silverbolt flicked his gaze back at the rest of their combined gestalt teams. "Does everyone understand the plan?"
Various nods, grunts, and snarls answered his question with Air Raid digging an elbow into Fireflight's jet to get his attention and Drag Strip's answer only boiled down to yes after Motormaster smacked him and he stopped cursing. Well. It would have to do.
"The mission doesn't launch for another three hours. Do what you like with your time as long as it doesn't damage either yourselves or each other." Silverbolt paused. "Don't waste your ammunition or energy, either. We're going up against Unicron, and we don't have second chances."
"We don't have a first chance."
"Thank you, Dead End. Any questions? No? Dismissed." Silverbolt took a moment to collect himself as his gestaltmates and the Stunticons vanished out the door. This was going to be... difficult. At best. He hoped the ceasefire wouldn't disintegrate in the middle of the mission, but he didn't have any illusions. The slightest hint of one side shooting at the other, and they were all doomed.
//Get over here, 'Bolt,// Motormaster growled, shifting to sprawl out invitingly.
Temptation powerful as lightning shot through him. But- //No. We have a mission. I can't afford that kind of damage right now.//
Motormaster snarled, and Silverbolt called his rifle to his hands.
"I need to check my gun," he said quietly. "Make sure everything is in working order."
Fear, muted compared to the looks the other Stunticons had given him, flashed across Motormaster's face so quickly Silverbolt thought he imagined it.
Why were they all so scared of such level, quiet command? He didn't think he'd ever understand, but he'd certainly take advantage of it. Maybe if they all survived, he'd let Motormaster take him before Prime and everyone.
Maybe.
-End-
Fandom: G1 Transformers
Characters: Silverbolt/Motormaster, Dead End, Skydive, the rest of the Aerialbots and Stunticons
Rating: PG
Word Count: 700+
Summary: At least the mission briefing hasn't gone horribly wrong.
Author's Notes: I am so rusty with these guys. SO RUSTY.
Best Laid Plans
***
"-Likely, of course, we will simply be caught in its gears and ground to so much scrap-metal, thus rendering this entire mission moot and dooming Cybertron to an agonizing death," Dead End said as he concluded the briefing.
"Thank you, Dead End," Silverbolt said, glancing at his team. Fireflight wasn't even paying attention, Slingshot was glaring at the Stunticons, Air Raid looked excited, and Skydive looked thoughtful. About as expected. "Skydive, is there anything you'd like to add?"
Motormaster's engine growled. All of the other Aerialbots and Stunticons both glanced at the massive grey truck.
Silverbolt selected an icon on his datapad and ostentatiously ignored the sound of displeasure. They were joint-commanders of this mission, not commander and lieutenant, and he would not be intimidated into forgetting that. "Skydive?"
The grey jet's ailerons flipped back and forth, the equivalent to Spike's gesture of giving himself a shake when he wanted to resettle his thoughts. "Well. Dead End has covered all of the ways the mission could go wrong that I can think of-"
"-Undoubtedly, something will come out of nowhere that none of us knew or imagined, and no one else will ever know or imagine it because of how quickly it kills us."
"Thank you, Dead End. Skydive?" Silverbolt kept his voice level and pleasant, and the Stunticons just stared at him. There was a lot of uncertainty in their looks, edged with fear, and Silverbolt found it rather fascinating. He wondered if they'd continue to get more scared as he continued to be polite to them.
(He tried not to wonder why they reacted this way at all.)
"This situation looks a lot better than Dead End painted it," Skydive said, then began to point out where he thought things would be better or at least not as bad as Dead End's more realistic assessments.
//He's optimistic,// Motormaster rumbled over Silverbolt's radio. //Soft. Like you. Next time the skullhead snaps and attacks someone, you crack his cockpit so he learns better.//
//That's not how I handle my team.//
//No wonder they get away from you half the time.//
Silverbolt smiled slightly and didn't reply. He'd gotten similar instructions from various Autobot officers over the years. Never so violent, of course, but everyone felt he should keep the Aerialbots on a shorter leash. He found it wasn't worth his time to explain that a shorter leash would have made them even more uncontrollable.
Skydive wrapped up a minute later, and Silverbolt inclined his head to his gestaltmate.
"Thank you, Skydive." He glanced at Motormaster to see if the Stunticon commander had anything to say. He found himself meeting hard purple optics and harder mouth that slowly curved into a smile.
//'Bout time he shut up,// Motormaster drawled over the radio. //When are you? I've got a better use for that mouth of yours.//
Silverbolt flicked his gaze back at the rest of their combined gestalt teams. "Does everyone understand the plan?"
Various nods, grunts, and snarls answered his question with Air Raid digging an elbow into Fireflight's jet to get his attention and Drag Strip's answer only boiled down to yes after Motormaster smacked him and he stopped cursing. Well. It would have to do.
"The mission doesn't launch for another three hours. Do what you like with your time as long as it doesn't damage either yourselves or each other." Silverbolt paused. "Don't waste your ammunition or energy, either. We're going up against Unicron, and we don't have second chances."
"We don't have a first chance."
"Thank you, Dead End. Any questions? No? Dismissed." Silverbolt took a moment to collect himself as his gestaltmates and the Stunticons vanished out the door. This was going to be... difficult. At best. He hoped the ceasefire wouldn't disintegrate in the middle of the mission, but he didn't have any illusions. The slightest hint of one side shooting at the other, and they were all doomed.
//Get over here, 'Bolt,// Motormaster growled, shifting to sprawl out invitingly.
Temptation powerful as lightning shot through him. But- //No. We have a mission. I can't afford that kind of damage right now.//
Motormaster snarled, and Silverbolt called his rifle to his hands.
"I need to check my gun," he said quietly. "Make sure everything is in working order."
Fear, muted compared to the looks the other Stunticons had given him, flashed across Motormaster's face so quickly Silverbolt thought he imagined it.
Why were they all so scared of such level, quiet command? He didn't think he'd ever understand, but he'd certainly take advantage of it. Maybe if they all survived, he'd let Motormaster take him before Prime and everyone.
Maybe.
-End-