Veni, mi fili. Veni, mi fili. Hic veni, da mihi mortem iterum
Title: Red Wings - Veni mi Fili (1/1)
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, a pitch or two of gore, character death, overall morbidness.
Characters: OC Screen Divider, Smokescreen, Prowl, Bluestreak.
Setting: G1 AU. Pre-Earth.
Summary: Before the great war, a secret project to create an improved generation of mechs destined for military and enforcer duty stepped over more moral and ethical boundaries than most Autobots were willing to cross with unexpected consequences.
Notes: This was a ficlet I had laying on my hard drive, thought I'd share it. I might expand on this 'verse again some other time. Screen Divider's personality does change between 'settings', so... how he behaves here is unrelated to any other pieces depicting him. The 'Datsuns' are triplets in this ficlet.
Not beta-read so feel free to correct me.
The training grounds again. They had been here far too many times since they came online, twenty deca-cycles ago. Being groomed since their very first moments of conscious life into the super soldiers the project aimed to create. Prowl knew every millimeter of this room by now and so did his siblings. They could navigate blindly and know where every little bolt or plate was. It was, after all, where they spent most of their time when they weren't studying and running simulations in the quarters assigned to their batch under the ever watchful gaze of their sample donor.
They knew nothing of their other donor, told since their first moments online that the other mech was not important. All they knew was that they had been produced from the spark samples of two of the best officers the security division of Praxus could offer and such was to be their pride. Only their donor Screen Divider partook in their formation, and they leaned very soon he was a very strict mech. It had been strange at first to realize they were the only mechs of their batch that was raised and educated by only one donor, but they didn't think much of it soon enough.
There were more like them in the facility, usually labeled by their donor's city of creation or residence. They were merely known amongst the scientists and medics of the program as the 'Praxus' batch', so they learned to answer to 'Praxian' as much as they did to the names given to them by their donor. They went nameless for five deca-cycles before Screen Divider found what he considered fitting names based upon reports given to them by the scientists and medics, apparently high-lighting unique features about them.
Today, though, was not just another training session with their donor. Something important was going on, and the three siblings knew the best was expected out of them. The sound of a body crashing hard against the ground had Prowl directing his attention back to the fighting ground ahead.
"Get up." Screen Divider looked down at the fallen mechlet, arms crossed over his chest plates as his cool gaze scrutinized the young red and blue mechlet.
Smokescreen made a 'tch' sound and forced himself to his feet, a smirk played about his lips as he wiped away the energon on his lip. "Try again, huh?"
Screen Divider nodded sharply, watching the glow of the young one's golden optics, eager to rush back into the fight against his much bigger opponent.
Prowl observed his sibling with a calm that was eerily resembling of their donor's demeanor. Smokescreen was taking more damage than he was dealing, but he seemed to enjoy it. "His attack patterns are not efficient." Prowl observed.
"I have not given you permission to speak, Prowl."
Prowl bowed his head in apology. He turned his glance at Bluestreak, the other mechlet held tight onto the rifle he had been given, following the uneven fight with rapt attention.
The cry of pain of the older mech fighting Smokescreen followed by the sounds of crackling electricity and metal, plastic and other components being ripped apart caught Prowl's attention again, and he turned just in time to see Smokescreen grin with glee as he finally claimed the head of his opponent in victory.
Smokescreen crouched on the chest of his opponent, holding the severed head with one hand. He looked into the now dead optics of the other mech with that grin ever present on his face. "Finally got ya, Broadblade."
Prowl tilted his head with distaste, typical of Smokescreen to do that kind of thing. He picked rivalries with other mechlets in the program, then beheaded them and kept the heads as toys.
"Your turn Bluestreak."
The third sparkling stood and nodded, holding his rifle tightly as he strode into the fighting grounds. His opponent was another mech from the same batch as Broadblade, Swiftspin.
"Why do I always have to fight the small ones?" Swiftspin grumbled, deploying the turrets on his shoulders.
Bluestreak merely waited for the instruction to proceed and true to form, Swiftspin dashed around him, taunting him.
"Hah, too fast for you, sparklet?"
Prowl watched with mild interest, he knew already how this was going to end. These combats were hardly to train them or increase their experience and skills. They were but a selection process.
"Come on, Bluestreak! We don't have all cycle!" Smokescreen called from the sidelines, cradling his trophy like a doll against his chest.
Bluestreak's optics that seemed absent all the time snapped wide open, an equally deranged smile spread over his lips as the small mech took aim at seemingly nothing, before he pulled the trigger.
As Prowl had anticipated, the shot intercepted Swiftspin's trajectory hitting square on the helm. A single hole piercing the CPU of the other mechlet. Swiftspin was offline before he hit the ground.
Bluestreak watched Swiftspin for a moment before his expression became vacant again and he returned to his donor's side.
"Go Prowl."
Prowl nodded once and headed for the fighting grounds. His opponent was at least twice his size as well, but he wasn't familiar with this one. He was definitely an older model, so he was probably part of the first batch.
"I don't want to fight an uneven battle." The mechlet said, twisting his lips in distaste.
"Do not be worried on my account." Prowl bowed politely, ignoring the snickering of his siblings.
The bigger mechlet shrugged and waited for the signal and launched himself at Prowl, energon blades deployed along his arms. Prowl ducked the first few swings of the blades until he saw his opening, and using his opponent's arms for support he flipped the other mech onto the ground. Before the mech could even react, Prowl's hand was clasping his neck, squeezing at the cabling and delicate components. "I would yield in your position."
"I... y-yield!" The mech struggled, finding the smaller mech's grip to be unnaturally strong for his size.
Prowl nodded once and his grip tightened enough to crush completely the mech's neck. With one shift movement, Prowl's fist impacted against the helm of the other mech, crushing his CPU. "Unfortunately, yielding is not an option. My apologies for such misleading." Prowl let go of the dead mechlet, looking down cooly at the body.
Prowl returned to his donor's side, accepting the rag Bluestreak offered him to clean his hand.
"So, we passed to the next round?" Smokescreen asked with glee.
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, a pitch or two of gore, character death, overall morbidness.
Characters: OC Screen Divider, Smokescreen, Prowl, Bluestreak.
Setting: G1 AU. Pre-Earth.
Summary: Before the great war, a secret project to create an improved generation of mechs destined for military and enforcer duty stepped over more moral and ethical boundaries than most Autobots were willing to cross with unexpected consequences.
Notes: This was a ficlet I had laying on my hard drive, thought I'd share it. I might expand on this 'verse again some other time. Screen Divider's personality does change between 'settings', so... how he behaves here is unrelated to any other pieces depicting him. The 'Datsuns' are triplets in this ficlet.
Not beta-read so feel free to correct me.
The training grounds again. They had been here far too many times since they came online, twenty deca-cycles ago. Being groomed since their very first moments of conscious life into the super soldiers the project aimed to create. Prowl knew every millimeter of this room by now and so did his siblings. They could navigate blindly and know where every little bolt or plate was. It was, after all, where they spent most of their time when they weren't studying and running simulations in the quarters assigned to their batch under the ever watchful gaze of their sample donor.
They knew nothing of their other donor, told since their first moments online that the other mech was not important. All they knew was that they had been produced from the spark samples of two of the best officers the security division of Praxus could offer and such was to be their pride. Only their donor Screen Divider partook in their formation, and they leaned very soon he was a very strict mech. It had been strange at first to realize they were the only mechs of their batch that was raised and educated by only one donor, but they didn't think much of it soon enough.
There were more like them in the facility, usually labeled by their donor's city of creation or residence. They were merely known amongst the scientists and medics of the program as the 'Praxus' batch', so they learned to answer to 'Praxian' as much as they did to the names given to them by their donor. They went nameless for five deca-cycles before Screen Divider found what he considered fitting names based upon reports given to them by the scientists and medics, apparently high-lighting unique features about them.
Today, though, was not just another training session with their donor. Something important was going on, and the three siblings knew the best was expected out of them. The sound of a body crashing hard against the ground had Prowl directing his attention back to the fighting ground ahead.
"Get up." Screen Divider looked down at the fallen mechlet, arms crossed over his chest plates as his cool gaze scrutinized the young red and blue mechlet.
Smokescreen made a 'tch' sound and forced himself to his feet, a smirk played about his lips as he wiped away the energon on his lip. "Try again, huh?"
Screen Divider nodded sharply, watching the glow of the young one's golden optics, eager to rush back into the fight against his much bigger opponent.
Prowl observed his sibling with a calm that was eerily resembling of their donor's demeanor. Smokescreen was taking more damage than he was dealing, but he seemed to enjoy it. "His attack patterns are not efficient." Prowl observed.
"I have not given you permission to speak, Prowl."
Prowl bowed his head in apology. He turned his glance at Bluestreak, the other mechlet held tight onto the rifle he had been given, following the uneven fight with rapt attention.
The cry of pain of the older mech fighting Smokescreen followed by the sounds of crackling electricity and metal, plastic and other components being ripped apart caught Prowl's attention again, and he turned just in time to see Smokescreen grin with glee as he finally claimed the head of his opponent in victory.
Smokescreen crouched on the chest of his opponent, holding the severed head with one hand. He looked into the now dead optics of the other mech with that grin ever present on his face. "Finally got ya, Broadblade."
Prowl tilted his head with distaste, typical of Smokescreen to do that kind of thing. He picked rivalries with other mechlets in the program, then beheaded them and kept the heads as toys.
"Your turn Bluestreak."
The third sparkling stood and nodded, holding his rifle tightly as he strode into the fighting grounds. His opponent was another mech from the same batch as Broadblade, Swiftspin.
"Why do I always have to fight the small ones?" Swiftspin grumbled, deploying the turrets on his shoulders.
Bluestreak merely waited for the instruction to proceed and true to form, Swiftspin dashed around him, taunting him.
"Hah, too fast for you, sparklet?"
Prowl watched with mild interest, he knew already how this was going to end. These combats were hardly to train them or increase their experience and skills. They were but a selection process.
"Come on, Bluestreak! We don't have all cycle!" Smokescreen called from the sidelines, cradling his trophy like a doll against his chest.
Bluestreak's optics that seemed absent all the time snapped wide open, an equally deranged smile spread over his lips as the small mech took aim at seemingly nothing, before he pulled the trigger.
As Prowl had anticipated, the shot intercepted Swiftspin's trajectory hitting square on the helm. A single hole piercing the CPU of the other mechlet. Swiftspin was offline before he hit the ground.
Bluestreak watched Swiftspin for a moment before his expression became vacant again and he returned to his donor's side.
"Go Prowl."
Prowl nodded once and headed for the fighting grounds. His opponent was at least twice his size as well, but he wasn't familiar with this one. He was definitely an older model, so he was probably part of the first batch.
"I don't want to fight an uneven battle." The mechlet said, twisting his lips in distaste.
"Do not be worried on my account." Prowl bowed politely, ignoring the snickering of his siblings.
The bigger mechlet shrugged and waited for the signal and launched himself at Prowl, energon blades deployed along his arms. Prowl ducked the first few swings of the blades until he saw his opening, and using his opponent's arms for support he flipped the other mech onto the ground. Before the mech could even react, Prowl's hand was clasping his neck, squeezing at the cabling and delicate components. "I would yield in your position."
"I... y-yield!" The mech struggled, finding the smaller mech's grip to be unnaturally strong for his size.
Prowl nodded once and his grip tightened enough to crush completely the mech's neck. With one shift movement, Prowl's fist impacted against the helm of the other mech, crushing his CPU. "Unfortunately, yielding is not an option. My apologies for such misleading." Prowl let go of the dead mechlet, looking down cooly at the body.
Prowl returned to his donor's side, accepting the rag Bluestreak offered him to clean his hand.
"So, we passed to the next round?" Smokescreen asked with glee.