Fic - Murphys Laws of Combat 1-5
Title: Murphys Laws of Combat
Continuity: G1 and/or Movieverse
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): ensemble
Warnings: None
Notes: Somebody quoted one of these at work and the idea just stuck, so many brilliant quotes, so little time to write...
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
1: Friendly Fire - isn’t
“What the slag happened to you?” Ratchet’s grumbling could be heard from several corridors away, where the humans that hadn’t been whisked away by the doctors had gathered and promptly crashed in an exhausted heap. The bots themselves were taking up the corridor closer to the medbay - most of them with only minor dents and scratches - while waiting to be seen by the medic. Thankfully there were no critical injuries and instead Ratchet was working his way through the list of minor injuries, albeit with a growing amount of snark as his energy reserves ran down.
Thus it was no surprise that the medic finally snapped and clipped some bot around the helm with his weapon of choice.
“Would you care to repeat that?” Even from outside the medbay both bots and humans could clearly imagine the medic looming over his patient, wrench in hand as he waits for them to repeat whatever stupid thing they had said.
“Frag off.” The sound of metal striking metal for a second time echoed out of the medbay, followed quickly by Ironhide’s cursing.
“Well, you’ve managed to vaporise a good section of that plate and blow out most of the relays, care to tell me who landed the shot?”
There was no audible answer for the eavesdroppers outside, but Ratchet bursting into staticky laughter suggested he had received an answer of some kind.
“Oh, shut up, it's not that funny.” Hide grumbled as the medic continued to snigger.
“Hide, you manage over forty engagements without a ‘con landing anything more than a glancing blow on you, and now you are telling me that you were downed by Perceptor?” The medic didn’t wait for an answer as he degenerated back into electronic snorts of laughter; Ironhide would never be able to live this one down.
2. Napalm is an area support weapon.
The coughing wheeze of intake systems attempting to clear cooling vents was the only sound which could be heard for a long moment as mechs of both factions struggled to bring core systems back online. Optics began to light up as they rebooted after the white gold flash that had preceded the muted boom and roiling heat.
Rolling to his hands and knees Megatron snarled as he swept a hand over his still smoking chassis. Whatever it was had clung to the paint, stripping it and leaving the substance to char exposed metal and work its way into more sensitive wiring. Already his warning system was flashing messages about overheated relays. His fusion cannon was offline, flight systems heavily compromised and the wiring in one knee was feeling particularly scorched.
Glaring at Prime who had been knocked down not too far away he snarled before ordering a retreat, the weapon didn’t look to have targeted one side in particular and he could already see both Hook and Ratchet working on mechs who appeared to have been in the centre of the blast, neither of them apparently caring about factions as he watched Hook turn to the other medic and ask something, whereupon Ratchet tossed him a tool of some description before they both turned back to their patients.
Venting heavily to try and clear some of the muck in his intakes Megatron subspaced his cannon and set off towards the largest clump of his troops who were holding each up in readiness to depart as they glared across the field towards a similarly arrayed group of bots. However the glares were quickly turning into confusion as they realised the other side was also at a loss to explain what had just happened.
The clang of metal impacting metal echoed through the ranks, causing every optic to focus on the Autobot medic and his current patient who had apparently just come back online. Sitting up and glancing around the engineer proceeded to tilt his head to one side, ignoring the irate medic who was still brandishing his wrench, vocal indicators flashing a cheerful blue and green as he considered something, “I think I added a little too much energon to the mixture.”
3. Whenever you lose contact with the enemy, look behind you.
The con grinned as he exchanged blows with an Autobot amongst the rocky outcroppings surrounding the latest human energy resource they were stealing from. A smattering of bullets pinging off his armour distracted him for a moment, allowing his opponent to dance away as they disengaged. Releasing a hail of bullets he was happy to see the pesky minibot which had been targeting him dive for cover.
Returning his attention to his interrupted fight he frowned as he realised the Autobot had vanished. Turning in a full circle he scanned his surroundings for any trace of the other mech.
Rock. Rock. Rock. Tree. Rock.
Wait.
Tree?
Twisting around the con yelped as his optics registered the vengeful conifer lunging towards him right before he hit the deck. Rebooting his optics he was just in time to see the evergreen fade away into the green Autobot tracker as he levelled his gun. He had only enough time for his processor to register a query before the world went dark again.
Of all the things the Autobot could have projected, why a tree?
4. If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush.
“Do you ever get the feeling something is going too well?” Blackout rattled his armour panels in a shrug as Hook settled beside him, hunkered down behind a rock. “No really. It’s like they aren’t even trying.” He said as he poked his helm around the rock to look for anymore injuries while Blackout provided him some cover.
He frowned as he watched a grey Autobot take a couple of potshots at Swindle before zipping off to a new hiding place. Hook refocused his optics in surprise, and then confusion. That had been Bluestreak, one of the ‘bots best snipers and he wasn’t even aiming properly. Something was definitely not right here. No skirmish could go this well. It just didn’t happen.
The trembling of the ground and muted boom that rolled across the battlefield, followed not long after by a truly spectacular flash and a rapidly expanding black cloud, rising ominously from the direction of their base informed Hook that his suspicions had been correct.
And it only added insult to injury when an amused, and well recognised, voice broke into the swearing on the general Decepticon frequency, “Ooooooops, ‘ope yer did’n need tha’ base.”
5. All-weather close air support doesn't work in bad weather.
“I hate rain.”
Twisting to regard his gestalt mate Silverbolt vented in frustration, “the next one to make a complaint can take extra patrol shifts.” He turned back to his survey of the valley that could be seen from their perch on the side of a mountain.
There was no audible answer, but the scraping of metal as the rest of the gestalt shifted around. Patience was not their strong suit to begin with, but the heavy rain which had been falling almost non-stop since they had landed had reduced the time it took for the inevitable ‘I’m bored’ from the usual earth hour to around ten minutes.
“Silverbolt, we’re coming out hot, could use your assistance.” The gestalt visibly perked up as Jazz’s voice broke the monotony of watching raindrops bounce off the ledge they had settled on.
The sputtering of several engines stalling was followed by several curses as Silverbolt circled back around and transformed to land.
Raising an optical ridge he watched in silence as Air Raid hauled Fireflight back over the ledge his aborted take off had sent him over. Fireflight now safe, Air Raid gave a grinding shrug as he looked at his leader, wings drooping as water dripped off them.
“We told you we hated rain.”
(Laws 6-10)
Continuity: G1 and/or Movieverse
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): ensemble
Warnings: None
Notes: Somebody quoted one of these at work and the idea just stuck, so many brilliant quotes, so little time to write...
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
1: Friendly Fire - isn’t
“What the slag happened to you?” Ratchet’s grumbling could be heard from several corridors away, where the humans that hadn’t been whisked away by the doctors had gathered and promptly crashed in an exhausted heap. The bots themselves were taking up the corridor closer to the medbay - most of them with only minor dents and scratches - while waiting to be seen by the medic. Thankfully there were no critical injuries and instead Ratchet was working his way through the list of minor injuries, albeit with a growing amount of snark as his energy reserves ran down.
Thus it was no surprise that the medic finally snapped and clipped some bot around the helm with his weapon of choice.
“Would you care to repeat that?” Even from outside the medbay both bots and humans could clearly imagine the medic looming over his patient, wrench in hand as he waits for them to repeat whatever stupid thing they had said.
“Frag off.” The sound of metal striking metal for a second time echoed out of the medbay, followed quickly by Ironhide’s cursing.
“Well, you’ve managed to vaporise a good section of that plate and blow out most of the relays, care to tell me who landed the shot?”
There was no audible answer for the eavesdroppers outside, but Ratchet bursting into staticky laughter suggested he had received an answer of some kind.
“Oh, shut up, it's not that funny.” Hide grumbled as the medic continued to snigger.
“Hide, you manage over forty engagements without a ‘con landing anything more than a glancing blow on you, and now you are telling me that you were downed by Perceptor?” The medic didn’t wait for an answer as he degenerated back into electronic snorts of laughter; Ironhide would never be able to live this one down.
2. Napalm is an area support weapon.
The coughing wheeze of intake systems attempting to clear cooling vents was the only sound which could be heard for a long moment as mechs of both factions struggled to bring core systems back online. Optics began to light up as they rebooted after the white gold flash that had preceded the muted boom and roiling heat.
Rolling to his hands and knees Megatron snarled as he swept a hand over his still smoking chassis. Whatever it was had clung to the paint, stripping it and leaving the substance to char exposed metal and work its way into more sensitive wiring. Already his warning system was flashing messages about overheated relays. His fusion cannon was offline, flight systems heavily compromised and the wiring in one knee was feeling particularly scorched.
Glaring at Prime who had been knocked down not too far away he snarled before ordering a retreat, the weapon didn’t look to have targeted one side in particular and he could already see both Hook and Ratchet working on mechs who appeared to have been in the centre of the blast, neither of them apparently caring about factions as he watched Hook turn to the other medic and ask something, whereupon Ratchet tossed him a tool of some description before they both turned back to their patients.
Venting heavily to try and clear some of the muck in his intakes Megatron subspaced his cannon and set off towards the largest clump of his troops who were holding each up in readiness to depart as they glared across the field towards a similarly arrayed group of bots. However the glares were quickly turning into confusion as they realised the other side was also at a loss to explain what had just happened.
The clang of metal impacting metal echoed through the ranks, causing every optic to focus on the Autobot medic and his current patient who had apparently just come back online. Sitting up and glancing around the engineer proceeded to tilt his head to one side, ignoring the irate medic who was still brandishing his wrench, vocal indicators flashing a cheerful blue and green as he considered something, “I think I added a little too much energon to the mixture.”
3. Whenever you lose contact with the enemy, look behind you.
The con grinned as he exchanged blows with an Autobot amongst the rocky outcroppings surrounding the latest human energy resource they were stealing from. A smattering of bullets pinging off his armour distracted him for a moment, allowing his opponent to dance away as they disengaged. Releasing a hail of bullets he was happy to see the pesky minibot which had been targeting him dive for cover.
Returning his attention to his interrupted fight he frowned as he realised the Autobot had vanished. Turning in a full circle he scanned his surroundings for any trace of the other mech.
Rock. Rock. Rock. Tree. Rock.
Wait.
Tree?
Twisting around the con yelped as his optics registered the vengeful conifer lunging towards him right before he hit the deck. Rebooting his optics he was just in time to see the evergreen fade away into the green Autobot tracker as he levelled his gun. He had only enough time for his processor to register a query before the world went dark again.
Of all the things the Autobot could have projected, why a tree?
4. If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush.
“Do you ever get the feeling something is going too well?” Blackout rattled his armour panels in a shrug as Hook settled beside him, hunkered down behind a rock. “No really. It’s like they aren’t even trying.” He said as he poked his helm around the rock to look for anymore injuries while Blackout provided him some cover.
He frowned as he watched a grey Autobot take a couple of potshots at Swindle before zipping off to a new hiding place. Hook refocused his optics in surprise, and then confusion. That had been Bluestreak, one of the ‘bots best snipers and he wasn’t even aiming properly. Something was definitely not right here. No skirmish could go this well. It just didn’t happen.
The trembling of the ground and muted boom that rolled across the battlefield, followed not long after by a truly spectacular flash and a rapidly expanding black cloud, rising ominously from the direction of their base informed Hook that his suspicions had been correct.
And it only added insult to injury when an amused, and well recognised, voice broke into the swearing on the general Decepticon frequency, “Ooooooops, ‘ope yer did’n need tha’ base.”
5. All-weather close air support doesn't work in bad weather.
“I hate rain.”
Twisting to regard his gestalt mate Silverbolt vented in frustration, “the next one to make a complaint can take extra patrol shifts.” He turned back to his survey of the valley that could be seen from their perch on the side of a mountain.
There was no audible answer, but the scraping of metal as the rest of the gestalt shifted around. Patience was not their strong suit to begin with, but the heavy rain which had been falling almost non-stop since they had landed had reduced the time it took for the inevitable ‘I’m bored’ from the usual earth hour to around ten minutes.
“Silverbolt, we’re coming out hot, could use your assistance.” The gestalt visibly perked up as Jazz’s voice broke the monotony of watching raindrops bounce off the ledge they had settled on.
The sputtering of several engines stalling was followed by several curses as Silverbolt circled back around and transformed to land.
Raising an optical ridge he watched in silence as Air Raid hauled Fireflight back over the ledge his aborted take off had sent him over. Fireflight now safe, Air Raid gave a grinding shrug as he looked at his leader, wings drooping as water dripped off them.
“We told you we hated rain.”
(Laws 6-10)