Onslaught's Awesome Day, part 2 of 24: 1am
Title: 1am
Continuity: G1, Decepticam AU
Rating: PG
Content advice: Cybertronian cursing
Characters and/or pairings: Onslaught, Skywarp, mention of others
Summary: Onslaught's awesome day continues.
Note: written to this prompt from __wilderness__: 'Catching Skywarp at... something...'
Chapter list.
Hook was competent. It was one of the few positive constants of Onslaught’s new life. A breem and a half in repairs, and the ridiculous, humiliating damage from Starscream’s so-called training had been erased. All that remained were a few scorches, but there was nothing he could do about that until the end of his shift cycle.
Ten and a half Earth hours to go. Funny how they stretched out, down here in the deep ocean. It would have been nothing back on Cybertron. But on Cybertron, he had been his own boss, regardless who was paying. Here, not so much.
A clang sounded. Onslaught’s targeting systems locked on, an automatic response.
Another clang, and the door to weapons locker E259 shook in its frame.
“Ahahahahahahahaha!” A large, dark shape popped into existence in the hallway, bent double with laugher.
“Skywarp,” Onslaught said. He was beginning to regret leaving medbay so soon.
Skywarp froze, and Onslaught thought he heard a very quiet, “Oh frag.” Then the seeker straightened, ailerons twitching. “Onslaught!” He grinned, but he couldn’t have sounded less pleased had he tried. “Hey, you’re here, doing your commandery thing…”
“What’s in the locker?” Onslaught said. The door continued to judder. He dialled up his audios, and could just make out a furious, vulgar and expletive-riddled tirade.
“Small arms,” Skywarp shrugged. “Laser pistols, couple’a grenade launchers, your copter’s glue gun, that kinda thing. A few thermonuclear warheads…”
“And Rumble,” Onslaught said.
“What?!” Skywarp threw up his hands. “Why the pit would Rumble be in a place like that? There’s no lock on the inside, he’d be shut in ‘til someone needs their gun, and with your copter in the brig…”
Don’t remind me, Onslaught thought. “Rumble’s in the locker,” he said. “I can hear him.” It was like he was marooned on a tiny little island populated only by morons.
Skywarp’s expression seemed to war with itself. After a long and agonising moment, it settled on smug surprise. “Hey, guess what I just remembered?”
“What?” Onslaught really didn’t want to know.
“You ain’t my commander, HA!” Skywarp vanished, his laughter echoing around the corridor.
Onslaught sighed. He gave the juddering door a thoughtful glance, then walked on.
Continuity: G1, Decepticam AU
Rating: PG
Content advice: Cybertronian cursing
Characters and/or pairings: Onslaught, Skywarp, mention of others
Summary: Onslaught's awesome day continues.
Note: written to this prompt from __wilderness__: 'Catching Skywarp at... something...'
Chapter list.
Hook was competent. It was one of the few positive constants of Onslaught’s new life. A breem and a half in repairs, and the ridiculous, humiliating damage from Starscream’s so-called training had been erased. All that remained were a few scorches, but there was nothing he could do about that until the end of his shift cycle.
Ten and a half Earth hours to go. Funny how they stretched out, down here in the deep ocean. It would have been nothing back on Cybertron. But on Cybertron, he had been his own boss, regardless who was paying. Here, not so much.
A clang sounded. Onslaught’s targeting systems locked on, an automatic response.
Another clang, and the door to weapons locker E259 shook in its frame.
“Ahahahahahahahaha!” A large, dark shape popped into existence in the hallway, bent double with laugher.
“Skywarp,” Onslaught said. He was beginning to regret leaving medbay so soon.
Skywarp froze, and Onslaught thought he heard a very quiet, “Oh frag.” Then the seeker straightened, ailerons twitching. “Onslaught!” He grinned, but he couldn’t have sounded less pleased had he tried. “Hey, you’re here, doing your commandery thing…”
“What’s in the locker?” Onslaught said. The door continued to judder. He dialled up his audios, and could just make out a furious, vulgar and expletive-riddled tirade.
“Small arms,” Skywarp shrugged. “Laser pistols, couple’a grenade launchers, your copter’s glue gun, that kinda thing. A few thermonuclear warheads…”
“And Rumble,” Onslaught said.
“What?!” Skywarp threw up his hands. “Why the pit would Rumble be in a place like that? There’s no lock on the inside, he’d be shut in ‘til someone needs their gun, and with your copter in the brig…”
Don’t remind me, Onslaught thought. “Rumble’s in the locker,” he said. “I can hear him.” It was like he was marooned on a tiny little island populated only by morons.
Skywarp’s expression seemed to war with itself. After a long and agonising moment, it settled on smug surprise. “Hey, guess what I just remembered?”
“What?” Onslaught really didn’t want to know.
“You ain’t my commander, HA!” Skywarp vanished, his laughter echoing around the corridor.
Onslaught sighed. He gave the juddering door a thoughtful glance, then walked on.