100 prompts #46-50
46. Frigid (Galvatron/Cyc)
It was a cold, dark world, far from its sun, mantled in methane ice - as shelter from deep space, it left much to be desired, but there was no energy left to seek out one better. For now, it would serve.
Cyclonus crouched down in the open, the indignity of the position, mitigated by the need to conserve body heat. His wings, antennae, and hands had long since ceased to tingle; now they just ached, like an old mech's extremities would ache, gone stiff and brittle over long centuries. Cyclonus shut off his optics and bore it in misery.
Then Galvatron knelt behind him and embraced him, grasping his hands. It was leaping into a star, Galvatron's body hot, hot against his back and wings. Cyclonus moaned, pressing his face to Galvatron's arm so he could hear/feel the vibrations of Galvatron's body despite the enforced silence of an airless world.
Thank you, my lord, Cyclonus transmitted.
Galvatron's answer was rich with possessive affection. We have far to go.
47. Addiction (Galvatron/Cyc)
Scavenger stomped into the irregular complex of rooms that the Constructicons had taken over as their workshop, and dumped his burden on the nearest worktable. "Guess who's in a bad mood again," he announced.
Hook, Scrapper and Bonecrusher looked up, took in the smoking wreck that probably used to be a console monitor, and went back to their respective projects. "When is he not in a bad mood?" Bonecrusher grumbled.
"When he's slagging something," Scrapper put in. "Preferably the Autobots, for my credits, but I don't think he's too choosy."
"Yeah, just look at all the dents we gotta beat outta Cyclonus."
Scavenger huffed and poked at the slagged monitor. "Great. So all we have to do is point him toward the Autobots and let him go. Stave off withdrawl symptoms."
Hook grunted. "Or we could stage an intervention. Look him in the dungeon and make him quit cold Cassettibird."
"Quit what?" As usual, Cyclonus popped up without warning and without requesting permission to enter, stealthy even with an out-cold and smoking Scourge slung over his shoulder.
"Mixmaster and his mineral additives," Scrapper lied smoothly. "Is he deactivated?"
Cyclonus gave his triad-brother an almost affectionate glower. "No, Lord Galvatron was merciful."
"That just means we have to fix him," Hook said resignedly. "Put him down wherever."
Cyclonus did so, arranging Scourge on his back to display the ugly cannon damage across his shoulder. Scavenger drew back despite himself, echoes of his brothers' revulsion informing his own. Cyclonus, catching the involuntary motion, gave Scavenger a brittle smile. "Lord Galvatron's anger burns bright but brief," he said, which was the nicest way of saying 'moody son of a glitch' the Constructicons had ever heard. "That burn will fuel our conquest, fellow Decepticons!"
He saluted - not to them, but to the mention of Galvatron - and exited at a march. Scrapper waited until he was sure Cyclonus was gone before observing, "Speaking of addictions."
"So much for intervention." Hook started assembling his surgery kit. "If violence is Galvatron's drug, codependency is Cyclonus's."
48. Protocol (Roddy/Scourge)
Now logged in. Welcome, Huntmaster3rd.
Command?
/access server Teletraan-3
Protocol not recognized. Command?
/override code xxxxxxx
Code failed. Protocol not recognized. Command?
/override code xxxxxxx
Code failed. Protocol not recognized. Command?
/stupid piece of slag computer
Code failed. Protocol not recognized. Command?
Protocol shift. Teletraan-3 recognized.
Incoming message. Accept?
/y
Message from Teletraan-3:
- FlamingWinnebago: Hi Scourge.
Message to Teletraan-3:
- Huntmaster3rd: Hello, Rodimus.
49. Pet (Cyc/Scourge)
"Leash?"
Scourge handed over the item for Cyclonus to inspect; Cyclonus gave it a few tugs to test its strength, then set it down with a satisfied nod. "Treat dispenser?"
"All full and ready to go," Scourge reported, picking up a small canister and shaking it to make its contents rattle.
Cyclonus nodded again. "Harness?"
Scourge held up a web of straps, complete with rings for attaching chains or shackles. "Though slagged if I know how it's supposed to go on."
Cyclonus frowned. "You'll have to learn. Look, practice on me. These straps go over the shoulders..."
After a bit of time, and some tangling, Scourge succeeded in buckling the harness in place on Cyclonus. "Not bad," he admitted, stepping back to admire how Cyclonus wore the straps across his back and aft. "Having a pet sure is complicated though."
"Perhaps, but the rewards are well worth it." Cyclonus shook a treat out of Scourge's dispenser and slipped it through the bars of the cage at their feet to offer it to its occupant.
Rodimus grumbled, but docilely accepted the treat in his mouth, caressing Cyclonus's fingertips with his lips in the process. Cyclonus's fingers flexed, tracing over the corner of his mouth, and Rodimus allowed him to stroke his cheek without a trace of protest.
Cyclonus purred. "Excellent."
50. Damp (Galvatron/Scourge)
Earth: a beautiful jewel in the void, an oasis teeming with organic life. It was blessed with vast oceans of liquid water, a precious resource and source of wealth as well as life itself. Many races, both organic and mechanical, made the long journey to the out-of-the-way paradise to marvel at its grandeur and beauty.
"BWAAAAH!"
"Mighty Ongrblbrble!"
...And some came to make utter fools of themselves in Lake Superior. Scourge came up spluttering, shaking water and a small fish out of his helm, and ducked Galvatron's next leaping attack.
"Hold still!" Galvatron demanded.
"I respectfully decline!" Scourge hollered over his shoulder, sloshing out toward the shallows. If he was taller than the water level, he reasoned, Glavatron couldn't duck him under the surface again.
The roar-boom of Galvatron's thrusters shocked the water around him and Scourge leaped forward in alarm - but he couldn't avoid his fate and was tackled into the water again. He was submerged, plating clamped closed to keep the water from flooding his systems, with Galvatron's unshakable weight on his back.
Finally, his leader chose to let him up. Scourge clawed his way back to the surface with a gasp of relief as soon as his head broke into open air. "Feel honored, Scourge!" Galvatron crowed as Scourge shook his head sharply. "You've just been dominated by Galvatron!"
"Ah, yes," Scourge sighed. "Decepticon warrior - feared tracker and hunter - last of the Unicronians - and Galvatron's bath toy."
"And don't you forget it!"
"No, my lord..."
***
Also, bonus ficthing. Drunken Conversations I - in which Springer and Cyclonus discuss loyalty.
It was a cold, dark world, far from its sun, mantled in methane ice - as shelter from deep space, it left much to be desired, but there was no energy left to seek out one better. For now, it would serve.
Cyclonus crouched down in the open, the indignity of the position, mitigated by the need to conserve body heat. His wings, antennae, and hands had long since ceased to tingle; now they just ached, like an old mech's extremities would ache, gone stiff and brittle over long centuries. Cyclonus shut off his optics and bore it in misery.
Then Galvatron knelt behind him and embraced him, grasping his hands. It was leaping into a star, Galvatron's body hot, hot against his back and wings. Cyclonus moaned, pressing his face to Galvatron's arm so he could hear/feel the vibrations of Galvatron's body despite the enforced silence of an airless world.
Thank you, my lord, Cyclonus transmitted.
Galvatron's answer was rich with possessive affection. We have far to go.
47. Addiction (Galvatron/Cyc)
Scavenger stomped into the irregular complex of rooms that the Constructicons had taken over as their workshop, and dumped his burden on the nearest worktable. "Guess who's in a bad mood again," he announced.
Hook, Scrapper and Bonecrusher looked up, took in the smoking wreck that probably used to be a console monitor, and went back to their respective projects. "When is he not in a bad mood?" Bonecrusher grumbled.
"When he's slagging something," Scrapper put in. "Preferably the Autobots, for my credits, but I don't think he's too choosy."
"Yeah, just look at all the dents we gotta beat outta Cyclonus."
Scavenger huffed and poked at the slagged monitor. "Great. So all we have to do is point him toward the Autobots and let him go. Stave off withdrawl symptoms."
Hook grunted. "Or we could stage an intervention. Look him in the dungeon and make him quit cold Cassettibird."
"Quit what?" As usual, Cyclonus popped up without warning and without requesting permission to enter, stealthy even with an out-cold and smoking Scourge slung over his shoulder.
"Mixmaster and his mineral additives," Scrapper lied smoothly. "Is he deactivated?"
Cyclonus gave his triad-brother an almost affectionate glower. "No, Lord Galvatron was merciful."
"That just means we have to fix him," Hook said resignedly. "Put him down wherever."
Cyclonus did so, arranging Scourge on his back to display the ugly cannon damage across his shoulder. Scavenger drew back despite himself, echoes of his brothers' revulsion informing his own. Cyclonus, catching the involuntary motion, gave Scavenger a brittle smile. "Lord Galvatron's anger burns bright but brief," he said, which was the nicest way of saying 'moody son of a glitch' the Constructicons had ever heard. "That burn will fuel our conquest, fellow Decepticons!"
He saluted - not to them, but to the mention of Galvatron - and exited at a march. Scrapper waited until he was sure Cyclonus was gone before observing, "Speaking of addictions."
"So much for intervention." Hook started assembling his surgery kit. "If violence is Galvatron's drug, codependency is Cyclonus's."
48. Protocol (Roddy/Scourge)
Now logged in. Welcome, Huntmaster3rd.
Command?
/access server Teletraan-3
Protocol not recognized. Command?
/override code xxxxxxx
Code failed. Protocol not recognized. Command?
/override code xxxxxxx
Code failed. Protocol not recognized. Command?
/stupid piece of slag computer
Code failed. Protocol not recognized. Command?
Protocol shift. Teletraan-3 recognized.
Incoming message. Accept?
/y
Message from Teletraan-3:
- FlamingWinnebago: Hi Scourge.
Message to Teletraan-3:
- Huntmaster3rd: Hello, Rodimus.
49. Pet (Cyc/Scourge)
"Leash?"
Scourge handed over the item for Cyclonus to inspect; Cyclonus gave it a few tugs to test its strength, then set it down with a satisfied nod. "Treat dispenser?"
"All full and ready to go," Scourge reported, picking up a small canister and shaking it to make its contents rattle.
Cyclonus nodded again. "Harness?"
Scourge held up a web of straps, complete with rings for attaching chains or shackles. "Though slagged if I know how it's supposed to go on."
Cyclonus frowned. "You'll have to learn. Look, practice on me. These straps go over the shoulders..."
After a bit of time, and some tangling, Scourge succeeded in buckling the harness in place on Cyclonus. "Not bad," he admitted, stepping back to admire how Cyclonus wore the straps across his back and aft. "Having a pet sure is complicated though."
"Perhaps, but the rewards are well worth it." Cyclonus shook a treat out of Scourge's dispenser and slipped it through the bars of the cage at their feet to offer it to its occupant.
Rodimus grumbled, but docilely accepted the treat in his mouth, caressing Cyclonus's fingertips with his lips in the process. Cyclonus's fingers flexed, tracing over the corner of his mouth, and Rodimus allowed him to stroke his cheek without a trace of protest.
Cyclonus purred. "Excellent."
50. Damp (Galvatron/Scourge)
Earth: a beautiful jewel in the void, an oasis teeming with organic life. It was blessed with vast oceans of liquid water, a precious resource and source of wealth as well as life itself. Many races, both organic and mechanical, made the long journey to the out-of-the-way paradise to marvel at its grandeur and beauty.
"BWAAAAH!"
"Mighty Ongrblbrble!"
...And some came to make utter fools of themselves in Lake Superior. Scourge came up spluttering, shaking water and a small fish out of his helm, and ducked Galvatron's next leaping attack.
"Hold still!" Galvatron demanded.
"I respectfully decline!" Scourge hollered over his shoulder, sloshing out toward the shallows. If he was taller than the water level, he reasoned, Glavatron couldn't duck him under the surface again.
The roar-boom of Galvatron's thrusters shocked the water around him and Scourge leaped forward in alarm - but he couldn't avoid his fate and was tackled into the water again. He was submerged, plating clamped closed to keep the water from flooding his systems, with Galvatron's unshakable weight on his back.
Finally, his leader chose to let him up. Scourge clawed his way back to the surface with a gasp of relief as soon as his head broke into open air. "Feel honored, Scourge!" Galvatron crowed as Scourge shook his head sharply. "You've just been dominated by Galvatron!"
"Ah, yes," Scourge sighed. "Decepticon warrior - feared tracker and hunter - last of the Unicronians - and Galvatron's bath toy."
"And don't you forget it!"
"No, my lord..."
***
Also, bonus ficthing. Drunken Conversations I - in which Springer and Cyclonus discuss loyalty.