[Transformers] Ghost Unit | Shock Therapy
Series: The Ghost Unit
Title: Shock Therapy (#32)
Setting: IDW Transformers, inspired by the "What's Wrong with a Little Destruction" 'verse by ajremix.
Note: Many thanks to rexlapinii and ajremix for beta-ing!
Summary: In which Shortfall gets an upgrade. Sort of.
Shock Therapy
"He's very clever, but sometimes his brains go to his head."
~ Margot Asquith
"That's it. I've had it."
The mini-bot parked in the middle of Fallout's desk - the corner not covered in container units or various datapads collecting the entirety of the unit's location transfer authorization files - glared up with a disgruntled expression, clearly daring Fallout to disagree with him in any way. (That she didn't even know what he was going on about made that a touch hard to achieve in any reasonable manner, but she suspected that was part of his plan.) Being that the fastest way to find out what was going on was to ask, Fallout did just that.
"All right. ...why?"
"Not why! What! All of you have something nifty or useful to defend yourself with if you get stuck in combat. Now," the mini-bot tilted his head to the side, smiling ingratiatingly, "granted I have my quick thinking to rely on so the odds of me gettin' caught are NIL, but - what am I supposed to do if against all the odds inna universe, I do get nabbed by someone during an op? Eh? Eeeeh?" Scrambling forward suddenly he jabbed one finger in Fallout's face, optics gleaming. "NOTHING! That's what! I get caught, I'm toastier than a bug on a plasma core! And let me tell you, I ain't liking that, not one bit! And-"
Leaning back in her chair and raising her hands in a placating gesture of surrender in an effort to stall the rest of the rant Shortfall had clearly been nursing while on his way to her office, Fallout nodded.
"All right. You do have a point, I admit." He did, inasmuch as he didn't know what Deadline had been working on since the hacker joined the team, having mostly consulted Fallout and Salvo in that regard as both had had reservations about Shortfall's self-defense options in the field right from the start. Neither had wanted to spring the concept on the mini-bot until he was ready for it, considering the implications. But technically, the new base's medlab was up and running. In fact, thus far, everything was going exactly according to schedule for their transfer to the new base, which made Fallout extremely happy. Happy enough to even add sorting out Shortfall's request to her list of Things to Do during the move. (It had been a very long list. One which had possibly even required more than one datapad to create.)
"Well then. I'll see what I can do - wait. I am curious... why am I the one talking to Deadline, instead of you?
The mini-bot sat back down with a small thud, arms crossed while managing to look far more sheepish than sulky.
"...'cause he creeps me out."
Which explained the entire scene in her office, right there. Fallout, wisely, did not laugh at the admission.
Not until Shortfall had left her office, anyway.
~*~
"So, he just agreed?"
Flagship tilted forward slowly, optics scanning over the data the medical console he and Deadline were crowding over.
"He did. Hrm. Perhaps not entirely accurate a statement. Fallout explained the system to him once I gave her full access to the schematics and he showed up at my medlab at the correct time. I presume that would be an agreement to the procedure on his part, particularly since he didn't scuttle away at the sight of me waving surgical instruments at him."
Flagship snorted quietly at the other mech's thin smile, shaking his head.
"I really don't get why he's so nervous around you. It's not like you ever casually threatened to gut him like you do everyone else if the-" Flagship paused and turned to look down at the surgical engineer very intently staring at the life signs flickering steadily on the console. Which was, now that Flagship stopped to think about it, one of the very few consoles on the entire base (their new and shiny base!) which had yet to have been modded in some way by the hacker. Just as, further inspection proved, every other console in the medical lab had yet to be changed in any way.
"...baaad, Deadline. Bad."
The surgical engineer smirked and patted his console proprietarily. Having someone on the team who actually took him seriously when he issued idle threats was so very pleasant.
~*~
"You knew he was plannin' this."
Shortfall, arms crossed and one again firmly seated in the middle of Fallout's desk glared the glare to end All Glares. Leaning on the desk Fallout stared back with a quietly commiserating expression.
"You did ask for an upgra-"
"BRZZZZZZZZZZT!"
The sound of the integrated taser system going off in the office was loud enough to drown out the rest of the femme's words. She winced in sympathy.
"Ow."
"You know, you could just go ask Deadline how the system functi-"
"LOTS OF OW!"
Glaring from his curled up position on the desk, Shortfall twitched once more. Fallout did not laugh.
"Or if you'd like, I could go to the medlab and ask Deadli-"
"Don't you dare!!! Imma figure out how to control this damn shock system on my own and them imma get you all. That's how this is goin' down." The mutter was low yet fervent, the hacker glowering in feral determination. Fallout had no doubt he was entirely aware of the betting pool going on in regards to how long the process would take, too. At least, she reflected, he was motivated. Hopefully he would figure it out soon - she'd laid odds on the shortest of the time frames currently present in the betting pool and stood to profit a great deal if he did.
There were also quite a few administrative forms to finish signing off on and Fallout really wanted her shiny new desk back.
Title: Shock Therapy (#32)
Setting: IDW Transformers, inspired by the "What's Wrong with a Little Destruction" 'verse by ajremix.
Note: Many thanks to rexlapinii and ajremix for beta-ing!
Summary: In which Shortfall gets an upgrade. Sort of.
Shock Therapy
"He's very clever, but sometimes his brains go to his head."
~ Margot Asquith
"That's it. I've had it."
The mini-bot parked in the middle of Fallout's desk - the corner not covered in container units or various datapads collecting the entirety of the unit's location transfer authorization files - glared up with a disgruntled expression, clearly daring Fallout to disagree with him in any way. (That she didn't even know what he was going on about made that a touch hard to achieve in any reasonable manner, but she suspected that was part of his plan.) Being that the fastest way to find out what was going on was to ask, Fallout did just that.
"All right. ...why?"
"Not why! What! All of you have something nifty or useful to defend yourself with if you get stuck in combat. Now," the mini-bot tilted his head to the side, smiling ingratiatingly, "granted I have my quick thinking to rely on so the odds of me gettin' caught are NIL, but - what am I supposed to do if against all the odds inna universe, I do get nabbed by someone during an op? Eh? Eeeeh?" Scrambling forward suddenly he jabbed one finger in Fallout's face, optics gleaming. "NOTHING! That's what! I get caught, I'm toastier than a bug on a plasma core! And let me tell you, I ain't liking that, not one bit! And-"
Leaning back in her chair and raising her hands in a placating gesture of surrender in an effort to stall the rest of the rant Shortfall had clearly been nursing while on his way to her office, Fallout nodded.
"All right. You do have a point, I admit." He did, inasmuch as he didn't know what Deadline had been working on since the hacker joined the team, having mostly consulted Fallout and Salvo in that regard as both had had reservations about Shortfall's self-defense options in the field right from the start. Neither had wanted to spring the concept on the mini-bot until he was ready for it, considering the implications. But technically, the new base's medlab was up and running. In fact, thus far, everything was going exactly according to schedule for their transfer to the new base, which made Fallout extremely happy. Happy enough to even add sorting out Shortfall's request to her list of Things to Do during the move. (It had been a very long list. One which had possibly even required more than one datapad to create.)
"Well then. I'll see what I can do - wait. I am curious... why am I the one talking to Deadline, instead of you?
The mini-bot sat back down with a small thud, arms crossed while managing to look far more sheepish than sulky.
"...'cause he creeps me out."
Which explained the entire scene in her office, right there. Fallout, wisely, did not laugh at the admission.
Not until Shortfall had left her office, anyway.
~*~
"So, he just agreed?"
Flagship tilted forward slowly, optics scanning over the data the medical console he and Deadline were crowding over.
"He did. Hrm. Perhaps not entirely accurate a statement. Fallout explained the system to him once I gave her full access to the schematics and he showed up at my medlab at the correct time. I presume that would be an agreement to the procedure on his part, particularly since he didn't scuttle away at the sight of me waving surgical instruments at him."
Flagship snorted quietly at the other mech's thin smile, shaking his head.
"I really don't get why he's so nervous around you. It's not like you ever casually threatened to gut him like you do everyone else if the-" Flagship paused and turned to look down at the surgical engineer very intently staring at the life signs flickering steadily on the console. Which was, now that Flagship stopped to think about it, one of the very few consoles on the entire base (their new and shiny base!) which had yet to have been modded in some way by the hacker. Just as, further inspection proved, every other console in the medical lab had yet to be changed in any way.
"...baaad, Deadline. Bad."
The surgical engineer smirked and patted his console proprietarily. Having someone on the team who actually took him seriously when he issued idle threats was so very pleasant.
~*~
"You knew he was plannin' this."
Shortfall, arms crossed and one again firmly seated in the middle of Fallout's desk glared the glare to end All Glares. Leaning on the desk Fallout stared back with a quietly commiserating expression.
"You did ask for an upgra-"
"BRZZZZZZZZZZT!"
The sound of the integrated taser system going off in the office was loud enough to drown out the rest of the femme's words. She winced in sympathy.
"Ow."
"You know, you could just go ask Deadline how the system functi-"
"LOTS OF OW!"
Glaring from his curled up position on the desk, Shortfall twitched once more. Fallout did not laugh.
"Or if you'd like, I could go to the medlab and ask Deadli-"
"Don't you dare!!! Imma figure out how to control this damn shock system on my own and them imma get you all. That's how this is goin' down." The mutter was low yet fervent, the hacker glowering in feral determination. Fallout had no doubt he was entirely aware of the betting pool going on in regards to how long the process would take, too. At least, she reflected, he was motivated. Hopefully he would figure it out soon - she'd laid odds on the shortest of the time frames currently present in the betting pool and stood to profit a great deal if he did.
There were also quite a few administrative forms to finish signing off on and Fallout really wanted her shiny new desk back.