Greedy Fleetwind
This one was hard, because I had to figure out what Fleetwind was greedy for!
Greedy Fleetwind requested by raisedbymoogles
Fleetwind's hands shook as he removed the small, flat plate of metal from his personal storage cabinet. The corners of his lips were pulled back into a terrible grin, and his optics glittered with a feverish light. He also lifted one thin, slender, sharp-tipped cylinder of metal from the cabinet, locked the cabinet back up, and held the metal plate close to him as he shuffled quickly to the plain piece of furniture that served as desk and table both.
The Seeker ran his fingers lightly over the carved scrawlings in the plate. Storing information in such a manner was completely unconventional, but for this one thing, Fleetwind preferred it. It seemed so much more... permanent than storing it in the system did. His hand brushed over the plate, and he reread the contents, though they were already indelibly etched into his memory. Monikor, Examinor, Doublecheck, and Rota.
Many millions of years before, those four has been a team of name makers, quality assurance inspectors, and personnel assignment specialists at a factory that churned out Seekers for the Decepticon war effort. One Seeker, assigned a somewhat unusual color-scheme by random number generators hitting one of the more random numbers, came through and was given slightly more consideration than most. This was because he sat only on the borderline of acceptable specifications for durability, and a few extra moments were spent determining whether or not he should be recycled for materials on the spot. Finally it was decided he would be getting recycled soon enough, he was given a name that contained in it a reminder of how fleeting existence can be, and sent out to die for his Empire.
Fleetwind decided he'd much rather live for it.
It hadn't been easy, at first, living beyond all expectations, defying his death-sentence name. He learned to use his speed and skill to make up for his fragile frame. Each day, each hour, survived was a hard-won accomplishment. But eventually he could stop looking past survival of the moment, and instead began thinking in the long term. Though Fleetwind was often viewed as milder, more timid, gentler than his fellows, in truth he was a self-serving as any true Decepticon. He simply served himself in a different way.
Eventually the pale Seeker got it into his head to learn the names of those who had let him live only because he was expected to be snuffed out so swiftly, anyway. A scheme of revenge came to his mind. Names were recorded, backgrounds researched, and though the four never knew it, eventually their entire lives' histories came to be recorded on a plain, flat metal plate by a sharpened metal cylinder. But Fleetwind never tried to kill any of the four, oh, no, nor did he ever attempt to harm them in any way.
Fleetwind would have his revenge simply by outliving them.
Then that glorious day came. The last of the four, Rota, passed away when the factory he served at fell to the Autobots. The terms of Fleetwind's revenge was complete, but his greed for years was far from slated. Instead, Fleetwind decided that to be able to truly claim he had outlived the other four, he would have to live longer than any of the others had lived, from build to deactivation. So the Seeker determined the age the oldest of them had been when he had died, and set that as his new goal.
Fleetwind stifled a brief, cruel chuckle, and felt the marks that made up Doublecheck's name. One more day. One more day, and he'll have lived longer than any of them. His revenge would be complete.
"No," the Decepticon murmured softly. "Never." After all, if he survived tomorrow, then he'll have lived two days longer than the oldest of them. And if he survived the day after, he'll have lived three days longer than the oldest of them. Each day, each and every second, he had his revenge anew. His thirst for time would never be, need never be, slated.
"I have... I'll have... all the time in the universe," he whispered, still smiling.
Greedy Fleetwind requested by raisedbymoogles
Fleetwind's hands shook as he removed the small, flat plate of metal from his personal storage cabinet. The corners of his lips were pulled back into a terrible grin, and his optics glittered with a feverish light. He also lifted one thin, slender, sharp-tipped cylinder of metal from the cabinet, locked the cabinet back up, and held the metal plate close to him as he shuffled quickly to the plain piece of furniture that served as desk and table both.
The Seeker ran his fingers lightly over the carved scrawlings in the plate. Storing information in such a manner was completely unconventional, but for this one thing, Fleetwind preferred it. It seemed so much more... permanent than storing it in the system did. His hand brushed over the plate, and he reread the contents, though they were already indelibly etched into his memory. Monikor, Examinor, Doublecheck, and Rota.
Many millions of years before, those four has been a team of name makers, quality assurance inspectors, and personnel assignment specialists at a factory that churned out Seekers for the Decepticon war effort. One Seeker, assigned a somewhat unusual color-scheme by random number generators hitting one of the more random numbers, came through and was given slightly more consideration than most. This was because he sat only on the borderline of acceptable specifications for durability, and a few extra moments were spent determining whether or not he should be recycled for materials on the spot. Finally it was decided he would be getting recycled soon enough, he was given a name that contained in it a reminder of how fleeting existence can be, and sent out to die for his Empire.
Fleetwind decided he'd much rather live for it.
It hadn't been easy, at first, living beyond all expectations, defying his death-sentence name. He learned to use his speed and skill to make up for his fragile frame. Each day, each hour, survived was a hard-won accomplishment. But eventually he could stop looking past survival of the moment, and instead began thinking in the long term. Though Fleetwind was often viewed as milder, more timid, gentler than his fellows, in truth he was a self-serving as any true Decepticon. He simply served himself in a different way.
Eventually the pale Seeker got it into his head to learn the names of those who had let him live only because he was expected to be snuffed out so swiftly, anyway. A scheme of revenge came to his mind. Names were recorded, backgrounds researched, and though the four never knew it, eventually their entire lives' histories came to be recorded on a plain, flat metal plate by a sharpened metal cylinder. But Fleetwind never tried to kill any of the four, oh, no, nor did he ever attempt to harm them in any way.
Fleetwind would have his revenge simply by outliving them.
Then that glorious day came. The last of the four, Rota, passed away when the factory he served at fell to the Autobots. The terms of Fleetwind's revenge was complete, but his greed for years was far from slated. Instead, Fleetwind decided that to be able to truly claim he had outlived the other four, he would have to live longer than any of the others had lived, from build to deactivation. So the Seeker determined the age the oldest of them had been when he had died, and set that as his new goal.
Fleetwind stifled a brief, cruel chuckle, and felt the marks that made up Doublecheck's name. One more day. One more day, and he'll have lived longer than any of them. His revenge would be complete.
"No," the Decepticon murmured softly. "Never." After all, if he survived tomorrow, then he'll have lived two days longer than the oldest of them. And if he survived the day after, he'll have lived three days longer than the oldest of them. Each day, each and every second, he had his revenge anew. His thirst for time would never be, need never be, slated.
"I have... I'll have... all the time in the universe," he whispered, still smiling.