Glances Into a Spark - Kick in the Head
Title: Glances Into a Spark - Kick in the Head
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: Oneshots about any and possibly all of the movie cast, and then some.
Warnings: language
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) I consider the entire Kick in the Head series to be in the same 'verse as Glances into a Spark.
Table of Contents - Glances Into A Spark
Table of Contents - Kick in the Head
o o o
Theme #58: Kick in the Head
o o o
The two young mechs looked around eagerly as the door to the training room slid open. They were to begin battle training, learning how to fight and think on the battle field when directly engaging the enemy. They had been told little about their instructor except that his track record as a teacher was excellent, which meant very little to the two of them. As the future rulers of Cybertron, every instructor they had carried an excellent record, had excellent recommendations, the very best of the best.
Orion Pax shoved down a slight feeling of unease. He was to be Prime, and was a pacifist by design, to balance the war-like nature of his brother. But a Prime who couldn't defend himself was a poor Prime indeed, which meant that he was to train with his brother, at least at first. The brother's moved further into the room, looking around, followed closely by the twitchy form of the Councilor Scalar, who chaperoned them around when Alpha Trion was busy, which was almost always.
The room was large, huge, with great obstacles and entire buildings spotted across the great expanse. Of their instructor, or indeed, anything sentient aside from themselves, there was no sign. "Primus save us, he must be late." Scalar half-sighed, half-moaned, his hands working at each other almost constantly.
"Some instructor," Megatron snorted. "I'd have thought that such a good record would have included some sense of punctuality."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" The words, low and rough, were punctuated by the high whine of a charging cannon. "Don't twitch a gyro, any of you, until I give you permission to do so."
Orion froze, painfully still, fighting the urge to turn and meet his assailant face to face. At the edge of his vision he could see Megatron, close to his left but half a step behind, looking embarrassed and furious at having been caught off guard. Whoever the mech behind them was, he was dangerous, weaponry already up to the near-painful whine of fully charged and they hadn't even noticed him approach.
"Councilor Scalar," the unseen mech continued, a measure of politeness and courtesy creeping into the rough tone. "If you insist on remaining here, I request that you stay to the side and not interfere with the lesson in any way, shape, or form. If you prefer, you can observe from room two-alpha upstairs." Scalar squawked something about gratitude, his voice forced an octave higher by fear, and Orion heard the distinct sound of hurried footsteps on metal, and the hiss-thump of the door opening and closing again. He'd actually abandoned them! Never once had they been without a Councilor in attendance.
"Now, for you two." There were clear, deliberate footsteps as the mech moved closer to the two brothers, and Orion realized with true alarm that there was a fully charged cannon within ticks of the back of his head, dull electric heat radiating against the plates of his helm.
"Turn and face each other," came the order. Orion did as directed, coming face to face with his brother, nearly toe to toe, and Megatron looked equal parts indignant, angry and terrified. Their instructor was a barely visible shape of red and black and chrome to his left, most of the view blocked by the twin cannon's aimed at the faces of Cybertron's future leaders.
Abruptly, the cannons were gone, and Orion barely had time to register the hand on the back of his head before his forehead met Megatron's with a resounding clang. Pain, sharp and immediate and new echoed through his skull as he staggered back, and with wonder he realized that under the hand he'd clapped to the spot, he could feel an actual dent, his first injury.
Their instructor was only a little smaller than the two of them, the first mech they'd met, aside from Alpha Trion, who they didn't completely tower over. He was broad and powerfully built, the red-black-chrome surface of his armor scratched and chipped. He watched the two of them dispassionately, hands on his hips. "That was for walking into my classroom unarmed." He said flatly. "From now on, if you ever even think you're about to meet with me, you'd better have a gun or a blade or something at the ready, and you'd better be prepared for an attack. Am I understood?"
"Understood," Orion said hesitantly, his brother echoing his response with barely concealed menace.
The dark mech's optics focused on the future Lord High Protector. "Let's get something else clear," He said contemptuously. "I know who you are, what you are. After you take up the posts you were designed for, I'll 'Yes Lord, no Lord, yes Prime, no Prime' the two of you all you want. But as far as I'm concerned now, you're both a pair of sparklings suffering under the delusion that you're worth my time, and you'll remain so until you prove me wrong, am I understood?"
Orion glanced at Megatron, who was practically radiating sullen anger. Their entire lives, they had been treated with the utmost respect. No one had ever treated them so callously, had ever even laid a hand on them. To be treated as sparklings, as worthless...
"Am I understood?!" their instructor thundered.
"...Understood."
A smug look crossed the mech's face. "Good," he said, dropping into a light-footed stance. "My designation is Ironhide, I'm here to teach you both how to not die in battle, and the two of you have five breems to try and take me down."
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: Oneshots about any and possibly all of the movie cast, and then some.
Warnings: language
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) I consider the entire Kick in the Head series to be in the same 'verse as Glances into a Spark.
Table of Contents - Glances Into A Spark
Table of Contents - Kick in the Head
o o o
Theme #58: Kick in the Head
o o o
The two young mechs looked around eagerly as the door to the training room slid open. They were to begin battle training, learning how to fight and think on the battle field when directly engaging the enemy. They had been told little about their instructor except that his track record as a teacher was excellent, which meant very little to the two of them. As the future rulers of Cybertron, every instructor they had carried an excellent record, had excellent recommendations, the very best of the best.
Orion Pax shoved down a slight feeling of unease. He was to be Prime, and was a pacifist by design, to balance the war-like nature of his brother. But a Prime who couldn't defend himself was a poor Prime indeed, which meant that he was to train with his brother, at least at first. The brother's moved further into the room, looking around, followed closely by the twitchy form of the Councilor Scalar, who chaperoned them around when Alpha Trion was busy, which was almost always.
The room was large, huge, with great obstacles and entire buildings spotted across the great expanse. Of their instructor, or indeed, anything sentient aside from themselves, there was no sign. "Primus save us, he must be late." Scalar half-sighed, half-moaned, his hands working at each other almost constantly.
"Some instructor," Megatron snorted. "I'd have thought that such a good record would have included some sense of punctuality."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" The words, low and rough, were punctuated by the high whine of a charging cannon. "Don't twitch a gyro, any of you, until I give you permission to do so."
Orion froze, painfully still, fighting the urge to turn and meet his assailant face to face. At the edge of his vision he could see Megatron, close to his left but half a step behind, looking embarrassed and furious at having been caught off guard. Whoever the mech behind them was, he was dangerous, weaponry already up to the near-painful whine of fully charged and they hadn't even noticed him approach.
"Councilor Scalar," the unseen mech continued, a measure of politeness and courtesy creeping into the rough tone. "If you insist on remaining here, I request that you stay to the side and not interfere with the lesson in any way, shape, or form. If you prefer, you can observe from room two-alpha upstairs." Scalar squawked something about gratitude, his voice forced an octave higher by fear, and Orion heard the distinct sound of hurried footsteps on metal, and the hiss-thump of the door opening and closing again. He'd actually abandoned them! Never once had they been without a Councilor in attendance.
"Now, for you two." There were clear, deliberate footsteps as the mech moved closer to the two brothers, and Orion realized with true alarm that there was a fully charged cannon within ticks of the back of his head, dull electric heat radiating against the plates of his helm.
"Turn and face each other," came the order. Orion did as directed, coming face to face with his brother, nearly toe to toe, and Megatron looked equal parts indignant, angry and terrified. Their instructor was a barely visible shape of red and black and chrome to his left, most of the view blocked by the twin cannon's aimed at the faces of Cybertron's future leaders.
Abruptly, the cannons were gone, and Orion barely had time to register the hand on the back of his head before his forehead met Megatron's with a resounding clang. Pain, sharp and immediate and new echoed through his skull as he staggered back, and with wonder he realized that under the hand he'd clapped to the spot, he could feel an actual dent, his first injury.
Their instructor was only a little smaller than the two of them, the first mech they'd met, aside from Alpha Trion, who they didn't completely tower over. He was broad and powerfully built, the red-black-chrome surface of his armor scratched and chipped. He watched the two of them dispassionately, hands on his hips. "That was for walking into my classroom unarmed." He said flatly. "From now on, if you ever even think you're about to meet with me, you'd better have a gun or a blade or something at the ready, and you'd better be prepared for an attack. Am I understood?"
"Understood," Orion said hesitantly, his brother echoing his response with barely concealed menace.
The dark mech's optics focused on the future Lord High Protector. "Let's get something else clear," He said contemptuously. "I know who you are, what you are. After you take up the posts you were designed for, I'll 'Yes Lord, no Lord, yes Prime, no Prime' the two of you all you want. But as far as I'm concerned now, you're both a pair of sparklings suffering under the delusion that you're worth my time, and you'll remain so until you prove me wrong, am I understood?"
Orion glanced at Megatron, who was practically radiating sullen anger. Their entire lives, they had been treated with the utmost respect. No one had ever treated them so callously, had ever even laid a hand on them. To be treated as sparklings, as worthless...
"Am I understood?!" their instructor thundered.
"...Understood."
A smug look crossed the mech's face. "Good," he said, dropping into a light-footed stance. "My designation is Ironhide, I'm here to teach you both how to not die in battle, and the two of you have five breems to try and take me down."