I like him. He quotes movies!
The Nine Rings of Vos - Arc Three: War
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: When a Seeker threatens to drag your aft to safety whether you like it or not...? They mean it.
Timeline: The rest of the fic is here.
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(In which Bullseye and Meanstreak arrive in Vos.)
“Oi, how long are we supposed to wait around for this friend of yours?” The Skyborn femme bounced a shock baton off her shoulder pauldron, glaring at the mech beside her. “Honestly, Whippoorwill, I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“Willowisp, my dear, darling little sister, would it kill you to have patience for once in your life?” Whippoorwill groaned as his sister levelled him with her most stubborn, annoyed look and growled a negative. “Apparently so. Oh look, a transport shuttle. Time to get to work.”
“Subtle, brother dear.” Willowisp shook her wings out and stomped off to direct the latest batch of refugees into the city. Most of them were evacuees from Praxus, and thank Primus for the Winglords and their twisty, suspicious minds. If they had not been paying attention to that mad gladiator’s rages there would not have been enough time. As it was, they had gotten barely enough notice to pull the Connected Seekerkin out of the city-proper before it was attacked. There had been quite a bit of confusion on the docks recently, thanks to Seekerkin dragging lovers and friends and Unconnected relatives to the safety of the Citadel.
There had not been enough time to warn the Autobots. The few Unconnected who had not been obsessively stalked by flock members and dragged kicking and screaming into concealment, plus the civilians who had made Praxus their home, had all been lost with the city. It hurt. There was not a flock in Vos remaining unaffected by the tragedy. The city echoed with mourning songs that never quite faded away, and each new batch of evacuees added more voices to the funeral dirge. It would be a long, long time before Vos healed from this. There would be no forgiveness. They would never forget. The Senate would pay for forcing them to hide, and dooming those who could not be told their secrets. Megatron would pay, for killing their kin, for killing innocents, just to make a point.
That drone-fragging dirt-muncher had no respect for the rules of war. The law of reciprocity… Willowisp shivered, grinning sharp and feral. Oh, but the time they turned the tables on the Decepticons could not come soon enough.
Willowisp caught her brother’s optic over the mass of shell-shocked refugees and knew that he had been following her thoughts over their flock-bond. She knew that he agreed and that when the time came for vengeance he would be right there beside her to exact justice for their slain kin.
The sharp smiles they shared were determined and hungry.
“Put! Me! Down!” The enraged howl boomed out over the crowd, shocking in contrast to the quiet murmurs and muffled sobs of mechs and femmes who had just lost their homes. The tall red Flightless femme who stepped off the smaller transport that had been diverted to pick up Seekerkin fleeing from other sectors looked remarkably calm for a femme carrying a frightfully loud squalling, thrashing minibot over one shoulder. The black femme thumped the Gregale’s back with vicious prejudice. “I swear to Primus, Bullseye, if you don’t let me down right fragging now you’re going to regret it!”
“Whatever you say, dear.” Bullseye ignored the wide-opticked stares from the crowd as she strode across the tarmac.
“Ah-ha!” Whippoorwill grinned, this-close to breaking out in totally inappropriate giggles. “There she is! Hullo, Meanstreak!”
“Whippoorwill, you fraghead!” Meanstreak thrashed, blue optics blazing with embarrassed fury as she returned Whippoorwill’s friendly wave with some suggestive gestures that were both extremely rude and functionally impossible. “How are you here?”
“Your lovely mate called ahead of course!” Whippoorwill cooed cheerfully, patting Meanstreak on the helm and dodging the vengeful swipe of clawed fingers.
“You’ve been talking to my mate?” The outraged shriek made a few nearby mechs wince, but amusement and life could be seen returning to many of the watching optics. Meanstreak was far too enraged to notice the effect their little drama was having on the crowd. “Behind my back! You utter cad, since when?”
“Do stop ranting, darling.” Bullseye rolled her optics, slowing down her stride so that Whippoorwill did not have to skip in order to keep up. “Sometimes you weren’t home when Whippoorwill called, and we got to talking. I don’t really care what you’ve been up to, I’m just glad you’ve got at least one friend here in Vos who isn’t me.”
“I will get you for this, Whip.” Meanstreak hissed and that was it for Whippoorwill. The Chinook dissolved into snickers as Meanstreak lunged for his throat, growling when Bullseye’s grip stopped her short of her target. “You’ll pay, you barmy little airhead, oh, how you’ll pay.”
Willowisp shook her head over her brother’s choice in friends and commed in some replacements for Whippoorwill and she, following the comedy act into the city proper. Her stupid brother had probably forgotten all about signing them in for the immigration census records. “Where are you staying?”
“Hm?” Bullseye looked down at Willowisp, blinking at the datapad and poised stylus the Zypher held and blithely ignored the bickering pair on her other side. A rueful smile was directed down at the dark Skyborn. “My kinsmech is letting me use his place while we’re here. He’s undercover long-term, so it’s standing empty right now and I volunteered to do the watching-over.”
“Location and name of owner?” Willowisp flicked back her wings, and Bullseye provided the pertinent information as she was prompted. Willowisp read out loud as she checked over the forms. “Fourth Ring, sector five, Foehn Skids, Science Academy trained Theoretician. Gregale Bullseye with Outlander bondmate Meanstreak. One creation, Gregale Cliffjumper currently with the Autobots. That all correct?”
“Yep?” Bullseye nodded, and then looked thoughtful. “You know, I should probably make a call when we get there.”
“What?” Meanstreak shoved herself up, craning her neck to try and peer at Bullseye’s face. “Call who?”
“You’ll see.” Bullseye proceeded to haul her mate to their new home, Whippoorwill heckling Meanstreak the whole way while Willowisp and Bullseye ignored them in favour of getting to know one another.
“Huh. Nice place.” Meanstreak was finally on her own two pedes again. Hands on her hips, she slowly turned to look at her mate. “So, who’re you calling, luv?”
“Ah-ha!” Bullseye pulled a contact chip out of the desk she was searching and plugged it into the comm unit. The screen flickered and then cleared to show the startled face of a blue Flightless mini with familiar red markings. Bullseye grinned as the blue optics of the Seeker on the other end of the call lit up in pleasure. “Hullo there, Uncle Skids.”
(Word Count: 1,109)
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I have no idea why, but whenever I write dialouge for these two it comes out charmingly twee. Really. For some reason they just strike me as being well suited for flamboyant affection. katsuko just inspires me that way I suppose...
Life sucks. My little sister (who is 24, just for the curious/concerned) was very excited to be pregnant... but it was an ectopic preganacy, and she ended up losing her left fallopian tube. For those who don't know, an ectopic preganacy is when the fertilized egg attaches itself to something other than the uterine wall. It is the leading cause of pregancy related death in women, and it scared the ever living fuck out of our family. Needless to say, there is no more pregnancy, and my sister is emotionally devistated. Ectopic pregancies are one of those fluke things that you can't screen for, can't prevent, and are just bad luck.
On top of that, the wonderful high-paying job I had was seasonal, and seeing as the season is over, I need to find another job. Hopefully something comes up a little faster this time.
... So my parents are getting a divorce. Yeah. That's a thing that's happening. Mum forced Dad to move out and then sent a goddamned text informing us of her plans to stay down in New Mexico for Christmas. Honestly I'm more upset by the fact that she didn't bother contacting me directly, seeing as I'm the one who's going to get slammed with all the responsibility for the farm, than by the fact that she's not going to be here for Christmas.
I'm not actually all that upset. Truthfully, I'm mostly cackling and rubbing my hands together while plotting a hostile takeover. Does that make me a bad person?
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HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!
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