Mask of Words
Title: Kickass
Guest Starring: Prowl, Smokescreen
Rating: PG-13
Notes: OK this is definitely not my best work, but my muses went AWOL about a week ago. I'm hoping this will shake something loose. This takes place on Cybertron, early on. Anyways thanks for reading.
Kickass
Bluestreak delicately picked his way through the ruins. A few moments were spent in consideration, appraising the stability and advantages of various structures. Making a decision, he slipped into one of the ruined buildings, on his way to the top floor.
The gunner pulled his rifle from subspace, loading it and sighting his target. Everything was set. “I'm in position Prowl.”
“Roger that. Smokescreen go.”
From his vantage point Bluestreak could see the plume of smoke that the diversionary tactician was named for. He lowered his head back to his scope, just as the Decepticons came pouring out. There. His intakes were steady and regular. Time was suspended. Lovingly his finger curled around the trigger. The target went down, stunned; a tracking device even now working its way deeper into circutry.
He pulled away from the window. “Target is marked. I repeat target is marked.”
“Good work. Get back to HQ. Smokescreen is already on his way.”
“Acknowledged.”
The young Autobot subspaced his rifle. Quickly he made his way out of the building. He could hear the shouts from the Decepticons. Quickly he dropped into the catacombs beneath the city, and made his way back to the base.
Prowl and Smokescreen were both there to greet him. “Any injuries? Or other problems?” Prowl inquired.
“No problem Prowl. Not even a scratch. It's like they couldn't even tell which direction I shot from...” As Bluestreak chatted on, the three Datsuns walked into Autobot HQ to report a successful mission.
Mask of Words: The List
Guest Starring: Prowl, Smokescreen
Rating: PG-13
Notes: OK this is definitely not my best work, but my muses went AWOL about a week ago. I'm hoping this will shake something loose. This takes place on Cybertron, early on. Anyways thanks for reading.
Kickass
Bluestreak delicately picked his way through the ruins. A few moments were spent in consideration, appraising the stability and advantages of various structures. Making a decision, he slipped into one of the ruined buildings, on his way to the top floor.
The gunner pulled his rifle from subspace, loading it and sighting his target. Everything was set. “I'm in position Prowl.”
“Roger that. Smokescreen go.”
From his vantage point Bluestreak could see the plume of smoke that the diversionary tactician was named for. He lowered his head back to his scope, just as the Decepticons came pouring out. There. His intakes were steady and regular. Time was suspended. Lovingly his finger curled around the trigger. The target went down, stunned; a tracking device even now working its way deeper into circutry.
He pulled away from the window. “Target is marked. I repeat target is marked.”
“Good work. Get back to HQ. Smokescreen is already on his way.”
“Acknowledged.”
The young Autobot subspaced his rifle. Quickly he made his way out of the building. He could hear the shouts from the Decepticons. Quickly he dropped into the catacombs beneath the city, and made his way back to the base.
Prowl and Smokescreen were both there to greet him. “Any injuries? Or other problems?” Prowl inquired.
“No problem Prowl. Not even a scratch. It's like they couldn't even tell which direction I shot from...” As Bluestreak chatted on, the three Datsuns walked into Autobot HQ to report a successful mission.
Mask of Words: The List