Halloween Challenges: 1
In Memoriam: Of Laughter, Friendship, and Slagging Stupid Shenanigans.
Author: gilded_orchid
Rating: Um. Dunno. We’ll say PG-13 to be safe.
Series: G1
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz (developing referenced and hinted),the rest are a surprise.
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Humor Crack and shenanigans. (something about that combo is just wrong...kinda like my brain...)
Disclaimer: Transformers™ does not belong to me. That honor goes to Hasbro, Takara, Marvel, IDW, Disney (wat?!) and lots more people richer than me.
Further Evidence of Insanity: The G1 movie was like a fail-cake made of killing Santa Claus frosted with the Tears of the Innocent and a scoop of Not Clapping for Tinkerbelle on the side. Re-watching it doesn’t change that, but it does spawn…ideas. That blended with this year’s October challenge and…well…
1. Darkness
Jazz emitted a static-ridden groan as he landed, the rough landscape jostling his plating and prompting a fresh batch of error codes to assault his processor and pain nodes to erupt anew. No wonder Swindle formed a leg for Bruticus. The slagging greasy Combaticon had a kick like an enraged soccer forward. Or Grimlock in a snit.
Energon levels at 82%.
The crunch of gravel and mechanized stomping drowned out the internal chirping of system alarms as his assailant drew near, and Jazz turned his head towards what he could only assume was an approaching ‘Con. Sight was pretty much a no-go between his missing visor (knocked off and away by his impact against the brig wall) and his ruined optics (because Vortex made for a lousy optometrist), but his audials had always been top quality, and he lobbed a globule of half-processed energon and coolant at Swindle. (Vortex, maybe? Hard to tell with it so dark and all.) “YOU FRAGGER!” Oh. That would be Brawl.
Energon levels at 64%. Alert: Energon level decreasing at abnormal rate. Alert: Coolant pressure approaching critical levels. Alert: Tertiary energon li-”
At least getting knocked through a wall was a good way to shut up the alerts.
Energon levels at 42%. Alert: Energon level decreasing at abnormal rate. Alert: Coolant pressure approaching critical levels. Alert: Tertiary energon line severed. Alert: Mobility at 49%. Lower extremities non-responsive. Alert: Right arm-” Or not, because obviously the universe wasn’t done fucking with him. He manually shut down the processes tracking his decline, because the last thing he needed was a running catalogue of the aft-kicking he was being handed. Besides, there really wasn’t much to report on after being reassured without a doubt that you were paralyzed and the majority of the fluids necessary for keeping you functional were splattered across the floor and walls of a Decepticon brig instead of inside your fuel lines where they belonged. He twitched as he rolled to a stop on the ground, and made a mental note to not provoke the Combaticons so blatantly. Or at least, not unless he was hiding behind something more substantial than a hold-out pistol.
Something crunched unpleasantly during the repeated kicks to his chassis. “There was an old instructor of mine. Your tactician killed him.”
Nice one, Prowl. I’d give you a cube of high-grade for that, if you weren’t dead and all… Jazz’s intakes wheezed as he recoiled from the vicious kick to his head. He could see again! Granted, it was all in jarring shades of red and there were flashes of white lightning occasionally (probably not good, that), but he could see. Unfortunately, it was a face full of Vortex’s sneering mug (definitely not good, and mildly unsettling). Not a problem, though, because his vision was rapidly fading to black around the edges, and that meant he wouldn’t have to stare at fugly Decepticon for much longer. Ah. Darkness again. Much better, that.
“Now, my old instructor, he used to say that getting information out of someone who doesn’t want to give it up is all about fragging up their emotional protocols, throwing them off balance. Fear is good for that. Anger’s not bad, either. He also said that the best defense against that if you where the mech being questioned was to turn the same trick back on your interrogators. You don’t have to worry about answering anything if you frag them off enough they settled on scrapping your sorry aft.” Vortex sneered. “It was a good ploy, Autobot, and it worked. We’re not asking anymore questions and I’m pretty sure that we’ve worked you over enough that you’re about to deactivate any breem. Well, you would, but Onslaught’s tired of waiting and he’s kind of okay with the idea of just shooting you and harvesting what we can after we remove your CPU. We won’t get everything, true, but we’ll get enough that even Galvatron won’t have much to complain about. You fragged up bad Autobot. Wrong side of the war, wrong base to go snooping around, and wrong mechs to run into.”
“Primus. Just kill me already. They can hear your monologing all the way back at Vector Sigma.” Jazz was very proud he got that out without his vocalizer shorting on him. He heard more than felt the shot, his pain sensors already in overdrive.
“Aw slaggit it all to the Pit! You couldn’t have aimed that shot better!? That’s even more parts I can’t sell now!”
Funny. The superstition was that you saw a bright light before the end. Maybe that was only for good mechs and femmes. Naughty little Ops bots got darkness.
Alert: Energon levels at 19%… You’ve got to be slagging kidding me…
Alert: Energon levels at 10%. Critical pump failure imminent.
…
Alert: Energon levels at 5%. Critical pump failure imminent.
…
…
…
Author: gilded_orchid
Rating: Um. Dunno. We’ll say PG-13 to be safe.
Series: G1
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz (developing referenced and hinted),the rest are a surprise.
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Humor Crack and shenanigans. (something about that combo is just wrong...kinda like my brain...)
Disclaimer: Transformers™ does not belong to me. That honor goes to Hasbro, Takara, Marvel, IDW, Disney (wat?!) and lots more people richer than me.
Further Evidence of Insanity: The G1 movie was like a fail-cake made of killing Santa Claus frosted with the Tears of the Innocent and a scoop of Not Clapping for Tinkerbelle on the side. Re-watching it doesn’t change that, but it does spawn…ideas. That blended with this year’s October challenge and…well…
1. Darkness
Jazz emitted a static-ridden groan as he landed, the rough landscape jostling his plating and prompting a fresh batch of error codes to assault his processor and pain nodes to erupt anew. No wonder Swindle formed a leg for Bruticus. The slagging greasy Combaticon had a kick like an enraged soccer forward. Or Grimlock in a snit.
Energon levels at 82%.
The crunch of gravel and mechanized stomping drowned out the internal chirping of system alarms as his assailant drew near, and Jazz turned his head towards what he could only assume was an approaching ‘Con. Sight was pretty much a no-go between his missing visor (knocked off and away by his impact against the brig wall) and his ruined optics (because Vortex made for a lousy optometrist), but his audials had always been top quality, and he lobbed a globule of half-processed energon and coolant at Swindle. (Vortex, maybe? Hard to tell with it so dark and all.) “YOU FRAGGER!” Oh. That would be Brawl.
Energon levels at 64%. Alert: Energon level decreasing at abnormal rate. Alert: Coolant pressure approaching critical levels. Alert: Tertiary energon li-”
At least getting knocked through a wall was a good way to shut up the alerts.
Energon levels at 42%. Alert: Energon level decreasing at abnormal rate. Alert: Coolant pressure approaching critical levels. Alert: Tertiary energon line severed. Alert: Mobility at 49%. Lower extremities non-responsive. Alert: Right arm-” Or not, because obviously the universe wasn’t done fucking with him. He manually shut down the processes tracking his decline, because the last thing he needed was a running catalogue of the aft-kicking he was being handed. Besides, there really wasn’t much to report on after being reassured without a doubt that you were paralyzed and the majority of the fluids necessary for keeping you functional were splattered across the floor and walls of a Decepticon brig instead of inside your fuel lines where they belonged. He twitched as he rolled to a stop on the ground, and made a mental note to not provoke the Combaticons so blatantly. Or at least, not unless he was hiding behind something more substantial than a hold-out pistol.
Something crunched unpleasantly during the repeated kicks to his chassis. “There was an old instructor of mine. Your tactician killed him.”
Nice one, Prowl. I’d give you a cube of high-grade for that, if you weren’t dead and all… Jazz’s intakes wheezed as he recoiled from the vicious kick to his head. He could see again! Granted, it was all in jarring shades of red and there were flashes of white lightning occasionally (probably not good, that), but he could see. Unfortunately, it was a face full of Vortex’s sneering mug (definitely not good, and mildly unsettling). Not a problem, though, because his vision was rapidly fading to black around the edges, and that meant he wouldn’t have to stare at fugly Decepticon for much longer. Ah. Darkness again. Much better, that.
“Now, my old instructor, he used to say that getting information out of someone who doesn’t want to give it up is all about fragging up their emotional protocols, throwing them off balance. Fear is good for that. Anger’s not bad, either. He also said that the best defense against that if you where the mech being questioned was to turn the same trick back on your interrogators. You don’t have to worry about answering anything if you frag them off enough they settled on scrapping your sorry aft.” Vortex sneered. “It was a good ploy, Autobot, and it worked. We’re not asking anymore questions and I’m pretty sure that we’ve worked you over enough that you’re about to deactivate any breem. Well, you would, but Onslaught’s tired of waiting and he’s kind of okay with the idea of just shooting you and harvesting what we can after we remove your CPU. We won’t get everything, true, but we’ll get enough that even Galvatron won’t have much to complain about. You fragged up bad Autobot. Wrong side of the war, wrong base to go snooping around, and wrong mechs to run into.”
“Primus. Just kill me already. They can hear your monologing all the way back at Vector Sigma.” Jazz was very proud he got that out without his vocalizer shorting on him. He heard more than felt the shot, his pain sensors already in overdrive.
“Aw slaggit it all to the Pit! You couldn’t have aimed that shot better!? That’s even more parts I can’t sell now!”
Funny. The superstition was that you saw a bright light before the end. Maybe that was only for good mechs and femmes. Naughty little Ops bots got darkness.
Alert: Energon levels at 19%… You’ve got to be slagging kidding me…
Alert: Energon levels at 10%. Critical pump failure imminent.
…
Alert: Energon levels at 5%. Critical pump failure imminent.
…
…
…