Respect the beard!
vani_nessa has created a most winful and lulzy guide to why Scourge is awesome. I fully insist that everyone read it, because it may help spread the love for this much-maligned tracker.
To aid in this, I will provide a small ficlet that I did for my damned app.
"This is stupid. If we wanted Galvatron to play with puzzles we could have done it back on Charr."
"It's psycho-motor reintegration, Scourge," Cyclonus replied, although even he didn't sound convinced. "At least he's calmer now, it might be working."
Scourge scowled and tugged on his beard nervously. "No, he's calmer because they pumped Unicron knows what into his system and deactivated his cannon so he can’t kill anyone. You don't even know what psycho-motor-whatever-the-slag means."
Torkulon gave Scourge the surges. He could sense it moving beneath his feet ever so slightly, building up cages and wrapping restraints around any of the asylum inmates that tried to engage in "non-neutral behavior." Scourge couldn't blame them, honestly. If it wasn't for Cyclonus and Galvatron he'd have fled back to Charr the moment the ground twitched.
"How'd you even know this place was out here?" the tracker murmured, folding his wings a bit tighter around his body as he watched Galvatron force dark blocks together with harsh determination. Somehow Galvatron managed to even make playing with toys look violent and cruel, and it made Scourge wince in anticipation of what he might do next.
Actually, there was very little about this situation that wasn't giving Scourge the surges.
Cyclonus looked uneasy, which did nothing for Scourge's confidence. “I spoke with a…knowledgeable source who knows this area."
"Great, that's helpful, that could be anyone from the humans to the slagging Quintess--" His wingmate’s tiny flinch told Scourge all that he really didn't want to know. "You talked to the Quints? Are you sure Galvatron's the crazy one?"
"They want to wipe out the Autobots as much as we do,” Cyclonus mumbled. “They have a vested interest in their enemies having a stable leader."
"Cyclonus, they want to wipe out all of us. This could have been a trap, for all you know." It still could be. If the Torkulons could restrain Galvatron, the two of them would be swatted like cyberflies.
"For Galvatron, it is worth the risk." Cyclonus set his jaw and went back to watching Galvatron work.
Yeah, but did you have to drag me into it?
One of the other inmates had put down his own toys and was watching Galvatron intensely. The blocky mess in his hands was beginning to hum ever-so-quietly as the Decepticon leader attached another piece with relative care. Scourge opened his mouth to ask the Torkulon guard if this was supposed to be happening.
The alien madbeing screeched and Scourge automatically dove to the side (away from Cyclonus, of course. You always stayed away from Cyclonus when Galvatron was mad) as Galvatron madly blasted at everything in sight and screamed his demands for freedom to the organic, pulsing ceiling. The therapy'd done one thing, at least, it had proven that Galvatron was capable of building a working gun out of alien tinker toys.
"We're all going to die, slowly and painfully..." Scourge whimpered. He didn't stop cowering until he heard Galvatron's mad ravings forcibly silenced by the Torkulon's inhibitor ray. Again.
"Your friend is rapidly exhausting his therapeutic alternatives," the Torkulon said, still sounding far too calm for a being who'd just taken down Galvatron for the third time that day. Scourge dealt with sadists and homocidal maniacs on a regular basis, but someone who took neither pride nor shame in downing his enemies was just disturbing. "We have one more treatment, but after that we may be forced to use one of our most extreme measures."
"If it helps," Cyclonus said desperately. He looked absolutely miserable, and Scourge might have felt sorry for him if it wasn’t his entire fault to begin with.
"This way, please."
What Cyclonus wasn't considering, Scourge thought as he reluctantly followed his wingmate, was that even if this ridiculousness brought Galvatron back to the land of the sane he'd still remember who it was who tricked him into coming here in the first place and be inclined to dish out some Decepticon gratitude for it.
Treachery, Scourge got, and blind obedience. Those made sense even if he'd never dabbled in them himself. But for the life of him he would never understand the sort of fierce loyalty that led you to stab someone in the back for their own good.
To aid in this, I will provide a small ficlet that I did for my damned app.
"This is stupid. If we wanted Galvatron to play with puzzles we could have done it back on Charr."
"It's psycho-motor reintegration, Scourge," Cyclonus replied, although even he didn't sound convinced. "At least he's calmer now, it might be working."
Scourge scowled and tugged on his beard nervously. "No, he's calmer because they pumped Unicron knows what into his system and deactivated his cannon so he can’t kill anyone. You don't even know what psycho-motor-whatever-the-slag means."
Torkulon gave Scourge the surges. He could sense it moving beneath his feet ever so slightly, building up cages and wrapping restraints around any of the asylum inmates that tried to engage in "non-neutral behavior." Scourge couldn't blame them, honestly. If it wasn't for Cyclonus and Galvatron he'd have fled back to Charr the moment the ground twitched.
"How'd you even know this place was out here?" the tracker murmured, folding his wings a bit tighter around his body as he watched Galvatron force dark blocks together with harsh determination. Somehow Galvatron managed to even make playing with toys look violent and cruel, and it made Scourge wince in anticipation of what he might do next.
Actually, there was very little about this situation that wasn't giving Scourge the surges.
Cyclonus looked uneasy, which did nothing for Scourge's confidence. “I spoke with a…knowledgeable source who knows this area."
"Great, that's helpful, that could be anyone from the humans to the slagging Quintess--" His wingmate’s tiny flinch told Scourge all that he really didn't want to know. "You talked to the Quints? Are you sure Galvatron's the crazy one?"
"They want to wipe out the Autobots as much as we do,” Cyclonus mumbled. “They have a vested interest in their enemies having a stable leader."
"Cyclonus, they want to wipe out all of us. This could have been a trap, for all you know." It still could be. If the Torkulons could restrain Galvatron, the two of them would be swatted like cyberflies.
"For Galvatron, it is worth the risk." Cyclonus set his jaw and went back to watching Galvatron work.
Yeah, but did you have to drag me into it?
One of the other inmates had put down his own toys and was watching Galvatron intensely. The blocky mess in his hands was beginning to hum ever-so-quietly as the Decepticon leader attached another piece with relative care. Scourge opened his mouth to ask the Torkulon guard if this was supposed to be happening.
The alien madbeing screeched and Scourge automatically dove to the side (away from Cyclonus, of course. You always stayed away from Cyclonus when Galvatron was mad) as Galvatron madly blasted at everything in sight and screamed his demands for freedom to the organic, pulsing ceiling. The therapy'd done one thing, at least, it had proven that Galvatron was capable of building a working gun out of alien tinker toys.
"We're all going to die, slowly and painfully..." Scourge whimpered. He didn't stop cowering until he heard Galvatron's mad ravings forcibly silenced by the Torkulon's inhibitor ray. Again.
"Your friend is rapidly exhausting his therapeutic alternatives," the Torkulon said, still sounding far too calm for a being who'd just taken down Galvatron for the third time that day. Scourge dealt with sadists and homocidal maniacs on a regular basis, but someone who took neither pride nor shame in downing his enemies was just disturbing. "We have one more treatment, but after that we may be forced to use one of our most extreme measures."
"If it helps," Cyclonus said desperately. He looked absolutely miserable, and Scourge might have felt sorry for him if it wasn’t his entire fault to begin with.
"This way, please."
What Cyclonus wasn't considering, Scourge thought as he reluctantly followed his wingmate, was that even if this ridiculousness brought Galvatron back to the land of the sane he'd still remember who it was who tricked him into coming here in the first place and be inclined to dish out some Decepticon gratitude for it.
Treachery, Scourge got, and blind obedience. Those made sense even if he'd never dabbled in them himself. But for the life of him he would never understand the sort of fierce loyalty that led you to stab someone in the back for their own good.