(no subject)
Title: ‘Great Chase Scene’
Warnings/content advice: None
Rating: K+
Continuity: Bayverse, Pre 2007 movie
Characters: Bumblebee, Barricade
Disclaimer: Rose0mary does not own - And do not reenact the fight/flight you are about to see
Prompt: #2 Rockslide
Bumblebee swerved, skidding on the dirt road. He gunned his engine hard, desperate to gain more speed.
Barricade took the corners at insane speeds; his lower center of gravity hugged the ground better than the Autobait’s altmode.
Bumblebee eluded the grasping claws. Barricade chased, using his grappling line to wrap around trees and rocks when he careened over the edge.
Up and down the two Cybertrons raced, seeking the openness of a paved road.
The treacherous ground, unsupported by artificial rock walls or man-made minicliffs, gave way underneath the heavy weight of the two clashing titans as they battled it out in mech form.
The dirt fell, dragging both Con and Bot with it. A stone outcrop stopped the small landslide, but the two giant robots were a lot bigger and rolled over the terraces. A black foot clipped a large rock and the rock tumbled free.
Unsupported from below, the pile of rocks the two had climbed so recently fell to the relentless tug of gravity. Banged, battered, and bruised by the rockslide, Bumblebee and Barricade forgot their fight, scrambled down the mountainside, hoping their weight did not cause more rocks to break free.
Barricade extracted claws and dug into the granite face, slowing his fall. Bumblebee, having no claws, continued rolling down, smashing into trees and large rocks, fell over the edge of the precipice.
Barricade stopped just shy of the edge, his feet dangling in mid air.
Boulders followed after Bumblebee - some slammed into Barricade, some tumbled over. A few landed on the Decepticon warrior and would not be shoved off - not while dislodged pebbles, loosing gravel and more rocks continued sliding around.
From the faint cursing making its way upwards, Barricade knew his nemesis survived - and remained conscious. Dangling from his lofty position higher on the cliff face, Barricade smirked. The rocks to the left of him and to the right of him continued to pummel Bumblebee, burying the Autobug under a pile of fresh rubble.
Shortly after, the falling rocks settled into their new positions, Barricade retraced his claws, allowing gravity to pull him downwards, landing on top of the trapped bottling.
Barricade took his time double-checking his armor. The boulders hadn’t dented him too much when they slammed into him. All of the ‘damages’ received from the rock fall were purely cosmentic - the same might not be true for Bumblebee. Barricade briefly entertained the idea of killing the Autobot while he remained pinned like a bug. He decided not to, reluctantly. He needed the bug alive for now.
Barricade satisfied himself with the vow to eradicate the Autobot after he located the object that would lead them to the All-Spark.
Title: Whoops, am I in the right place?
Warnings/content advice: death
Rating: Pg /K+
Continuity: Any - G1
Characters: Swindle, Smokescreen, Hound
Disclaimer: Life is more than bluff and traitorous acts - it’s about commitment.
Prompt: #3 Scenario: a double-cross gone wrong
Swindle had his hands up.
Smokescreen also had his hands raised.
Swindle and Smokescreen found themselves standing back to back. Enforcers encircled them, blasters hot and aimed directly at the chest plates of the soon-to-be prisoners.
“Fine mess you got us into.”
“ME? I’m not the one who called them!” Them, meaning the enforcers. “Bad for business if my customers get arrested.”
“Oh, and I suppose overdosing on Bromide is much better.”
“Overdosing on…” the voice trailed off before resuming its earlier strength of denial. “I don’t deal with energon! And I don’t pass along contaminated samples.”
“ENOUGH!” thundered the lead enforcer. “You both are arrested on charges of treason and dealing in black-market goods.” The officer uncurled his lip plates, revealing sharp fangs in his mouth. “Resist, and it will be most uncomfortable for you.” He waved his free hand, and a hole in the enforcers ranks appeared.
Smokescreen shot forward and was shot down, his chassis smoking from the multiple beams that vaporized armor and vital energon lines.
Swindle hesitated, his optics seeing only the fallen Praxian.
“Move, thief, or be found guilty of murdering our informer.”
Swindle shrank in on himself before complying. He made his way into the enforcer’s prison transport and the many armed guards escorted him to PRAXUS PENITENTIARY.
From the now abandoned warehouse, a figure emerged from the shadows. “Smoky, you alright?”
†he puddle of spilt energon vanished, as did the devastating wounds. Smokescreen sat up. “You took your sweet time, Hound.” He complained. “Nice job with the enforcers - almost had me fooled.”
“Those weren’t my doing. They were real.”
Smokescrean paused in his wiping off the stale lubricants picked up from his unexpected tumble to the floor. “Really? Hmm, if you didn’t call up holoimages and I didn’t call for them, who tripped off the enforcers?”
Hound shrugged, the shadows around him rippling with the motion. “Don’t know, don’t care. What if Swindle had set the trap?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to find the internal leak if every time I meet my Decepticon contact, we’re arrested.”
Hound vented and followed Smokescreen out. Smokescreen never made a promise he couldn’t keep, and he couldn’t let someone else risk their spark trying to find which Enforcer was bought by Megatron. Hound knew the closest Smokescreen could get to not playing this game, would be a brief break as he used his processors to create new, untried and untested ways to get closer.
Title: Hate filled lenses.
Warnings/content advice: language
Rating: Teen PG-13
Continuity: Any - G1
Characters: Onslaught
Disclaimer: Don’t let your hate rule you - it colors everything.
Prompt: #4 Unrequited hate
To say Onslaught did not get along with his fellow Decepticons would be an understatement. He said it best himself: “I hate everyone.”
Ask him about Megatron, and Onslaught will respond with “I despise Megatron for ordering us around like shock trooper. My team is a Gestalt! We’re more valuable than that traitorous Starscream.”
Soundwave learned to ignore Onslaught’s self-reminiscence. Dead End’s internal monolog of doom and gloom was more pleasant to subjugate himself to. (Soundwave heard, frequently, Onslaught’s complaints about “fraggin mindreaders, can’t mind their own business, slagging telepathic skills are unnatural, the communication mech must be a Quintesson plant.” As Onslaught was not organizing a revolt, he allowed the mech the privacy of his thoughts).
Unnatural talents aside, Onslaught had another complaint against Soundwave. “I hate Soundwave - the mech spys on everyone. I bet half - at least, maybe two-thirds - of what he reports is a lie drempt up in an effort to keep his position as Megatron’s right hand mech.” As this particular complaint did not arise until after the Decepticons had been on earth for over twenty-years, no one paid much attention to the hate-filled rant.
“Pah! Shockwave hold’s the position of second-hand mech! That creepy one-eyed scientist does not know the true horrors of war. Locking himself in his lbratory, away from the battles - Starscream at least, is in the thick of the fighting.”
Starscream never knew if he should be pleased by Onslaught’s backhanded compliments, or be insulted. He settled for hating the gestalt commander. It was easier.
Onslaught hated his commanders, the officers, the shock-troopers. “Bah, what do the cannon fodder stock know of making decisions? All they’re good for is obeying orders - and we can get drones that do a better job at that!” Onslaught also loathed his gestalt team - the five Decepticons who knew him best, the five he was doomed to be connected to for all eternity. “Never pulling their own weight, always getting in trouble, expecting me to save their bacon. Let them save themselves - don’t need them at all.”
His gestalt team, in turn, hated Onslaught with a passion.
“Onslaught? Am I my brother’s keeper? I don’t know where he is or what he’s done now.”
“I’d make a better leader than that hater. Have you heard his grumbles? NO? Don’t let him talk you into joining our gestalt. I’d kill you.”
“That slagger *&@ better not be blaming me for the mess everyone else left.”
“I’d kill Onslaught myself if it didn’t mean killing myself. Hey! Wha’d ya want for permanently offlinging Onslaught?”
The only thing that surpassed Onslaught’s hatered for his team, the other combiners and his leaders, was his total and absolute hatred towards all things Autobot. To destroy them and their ideals, he’d forget how much he despised the artificial gestalt mindset.
For the chance to destroy Autobots, the gestalt ignored their extremely strong simmering dislike of Onslaught.
For his underlings, for his team, their hatred was not based on how he treated them, but how he gave in to Megatron time and time again. To their way of thinking: A stronger mech would not have been broken by Megatron. A stronger mech would not be subservient to a Kaon gladiator. A stronger mech would not have swallowed his anger, replaced it with fear, and been used by one who had no solid vision for the future. They wanted plans that went deeper than “ruling the universe.”
Onslaught agreed with them, and he hated himself for not being the stronger mech his team desperately needed.
Warnings/content advice: None
Rating: K+
Continuity: Bayverse, Pre 2007 movie
Characters: Bumblebee, Barricade
Disclaimer: Rose0mary does not own - And do not reenact the fight/flight you are about to see
Prompt: #2 Rockslide
Bumblebee swerved, skidding on the dirt road. He gunned his engine hard, desperate to gain more speed.
Barricade took the corners at insane speeds; his lower center of gravity hugged the ground better than the Autobait’s altmode.
Bumblebee eluded the grasping claws. Barricade chased, using his grappling line to wrap around trees and rocks when he careened over the edge.
Up and down the two Cybertrons raced, seeking the openness of a paved road.
The treacherous ground, unsupported by artificial rock walls or man-made minicliffs, gave way underneath the heavy weight of the two clashing titans as they battled it out in mech form.
The dirt fell, dragging both Con and Bot with it. A stone outcrop stopped the small landslide, but the two giant robots were a lot bigger and rolled over the terraces. A black foot clipped a large rock and the rock tumbled free.
Unsupported from below, the pile of rocks the two had climbed so recently fell to the relentless tug of gravity. Banged, battered, and bruised by the rockslide, Bumblebee and Barricade forgot their fight, scrambled down the mountainside, hoping their weight did not cause more rocks to break free.
Barricade extracted claws and dug into the granite face, slowing his fall. Bumblebee, having no claws, continued rolling down, smashing into trees and large rocks, fell over the edge of the precipice.
Barricade stopped just shy of the edge, his feet dangling in mid air.
Boulders followed after Bumblebee - some slammed into Barricade, some tumbled over. A few landed on the Decepticon warrior and would not be shoved off - not while dislodged pebbles, loosing gravel and more rocks continued sliding around.
From the faint cursing making its way upwards, Barricade knew his nemesis survived - and remained conscious. Dangling from his lofty position higher on the cliff face, Barricade smirked. The rocks to the left of him and to the right of him continued to pummel Bumblebee, burying the Autobug under a pile of fresh rubble.
Shortly after, the falling rocks settled into their new positions, Barricade retraced his claws, allowing gravity to pull him downwards, landing on top of the trapped bottling.
Barricade took his time double-checking his armor. The boulders hadn’t dented him too much when they slammed into him. All of the ‘damages’ received from the rock fall were purely cosmentic - the same might not be true for Bumblebee. Barricade briefly entertained the idea of killing the Autobot while he remained pinned like a bug. He decided not to, reluctantly. He needed the bug alive for now.
Barricade satisfied himself with the vow to eradicate the Autobot after he located the object that would lead them to the All-Spark.
Title: Whoops, am I in the right place?
Warnings/content advice: death
Rating: Pg /K+
Continuity: Any - G1
Characters: Swindle, Smokescreen, Hound
Disclaimer: Life is more than bluff and traitorous acts - it’s about commitment.
Prompt: #3 Scenario: a double-cross gone wrong
Swindle had his hands up.
Smokescreen also had his hands raised.
Swindle and Smokescreen found themselves standing back to back. Enforcers encircled them, blasters hot and aimed directly at the chest plates of the soon-to-be prisoners.
“Fine mess you got us into.”
“ME? I’m not the one who called them!” Them, meaning the enforcers. “Bad for business if my customers get arrested.”
“Oh, and I suppose overdosing on Bromide is much better.”
“Overdosing on…” the voice trailed off before resuming its earlier strength of denial. “I don’t deal with energon! And I don’t pass along contaminated samples.”
“ENOUGH!” thundered the lead enforcer. “You both are arrested on charges of treason and dealing in black-market goods.” The officer uncurled his lip plates, revealing sharp fangs in his mouth. “Resist, and it will be most uncomfortable for you.” He waved his free hand, and a hole in the enforcers ranks appeared.
Smokescreen shot forward and was shot down, his chassis smoking from the multiple beams that vaporized armor and vital energon lines.
Swindle hesitated, his optics seeing only the fallen Praxian.
“Move, thief, or be found guilty of murdering our informer.”
Swindle shrank in on himself before complying. He made his way into the enforcer’s prison transport and the many armed guards escorted him to PRAXUS PENITENTIARY.
From the now abandoned warehouse, a figure emerged from the shadows. “Smoky, you alright?”
†he puddle of spilt energon vanished, as did the devastating wounds. Smokescreen sat up. “You took your sweet time, Hound.” He complained. “Nice job with the enforcers - almost had me fooled.”
“Those weren’t my doing. They were real.”
Smokescrean paused in his wiping off the stale lubricants picked up from his unexpected tumble to the floor. “Really? Hmm, if you didn’t call up holoimages and I didn’t call for them, who tripped off the enforcers?”
Hound shrugged, the shadows around him rippling with the motion. “Don’t know, don’t care. What if Swindle had set the trap?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to find the internal leak if every time I meet my Decepticon contact, we’re arrested.”
Hound vented and followed Smokescreen out. Smokescreen never made a promise he couldn’t keep, and he couldn’t let someone else risk their spark trying to find which Enforcer was bought by Megatron. Hound knew the closest Smokescreen could get to not playing this game, would be a brief break as he used his processors to create new, untried and untested ways to get closer.
Title: Hate filled lenses.
Warnings/content advice: language
Rating: Teen PG-13
Continuity: Any - G1
Characters: Onslaught
Disclaimer: Don’t let your hate rule you - it colors everything.
Prompt: #4 Unrequited hate
To say Onslaught did not get along with his fellow Decepticons would be an understatement. He said it best himself: “I hate everyone.”
Ask him about Megatron, and Onslaught will respond with “I despise Megatron for ordering us around like shock trooper. My team is a Gestalt! We’re more valuable than that traitorous Starscream.”
Soundwave learned to ignore Onslaught’s self-reminiscence. Dead End’s internal monolog of doom and gloom was more pleasant to subjugate himself to. (Soundwave heard, frequently, Onslaught’s complaints about “fraggin mindreaders, can’t mind their own business, slagging telepathic skills are unnatural, the communication mech must be a Quintesson plant.” As Onslaught was not organizing a revolt, he allowed the mech the privacy of his thoughts).
Unnatural talents aside, Onslaught had another complaint against Soundwave. “I hate Soundwave - the mech spys on everyone. I bet half - at least, maybe two-thirds - of what he reports is a lie drempt up in an effort to keep his position as Megatron’s right hand mech.” As this particular complaint did not arise until after the Decepticons had been on earth for over twenty-years, no one paid much attention to the hate-filled rant.
“Pah! Shockwave hold’s the position of second-hand mech! That creepy one-eyed scientist does not know the true horrors of war. Locking himself in his lbratory, away from the battles - Starscream at least, is in the thick of the fighting.”
Starscream never knew if he should be pleased by Onslaught’s backhanded compliments, or be insulted. He settled for hating the gestalt commander. It was easier.
Onslaught hated his commanders, the officers, the shock-troopers. “Bah, what do the cannon fodder stock know of making decisions? All they’re good for is obeying orders - and we can get drones that do a better job at that!” Onslaught also loathed his gestalt team - the five Decepticons who knew him best, the five he was doomed to be connected to for all eternity. “Never pulling their own weight, always getting in trouble, expecting me to save their bacon. Let them save themselves - don’t need them at all.”
His gestalt team, in turn, hated Onslaught with a passion.
“Onslaught? Am I my brother’s keeper? I don’t know where he is or what he’s done now.”
“I’d make a better leader than that hater. Have you heard his grumbles? NO? Don’t let him talk you into joining our gestalt. I’d kill you.”
“That slagger *&@ better not be blaming me for the mess everyone else left.”
“I’d kill Onslaught myself if it didn’t mean killing myself. Hey! Wha’d ya want for permanently offlinging Onslaught?”
The only thing that surpassed Onslaught’s hatered for his team, the other combiners and his leaders, was his total and absolute hatred towards all things Autobot. To destroy them and their ideals, he’d forget how much he despised the artificial gestalt mindset.
For the chance to destroy Autobots, the gestalt ignored their extremely strong simmering dislike of Onslaught.
For his underlings, for his team, their hatred was not based on how he treated them, but how he gave in to Megatron time and time again. To their way of thinking: A stronger mech would not have been broken by Megatron. A stronger mech would not be subservient to a Kaon gladiator. A stronger mech would not have swallowed his anger, replaced it with fear, and been used by one who had no solid vision for the future. They wanted plans that went deeper than “ruling the universe.”
Onslaught agreed with them, and he hated himself for not being the stronger mech his team desperately needed.