prompt 6 response
Title: Silence
Universe: G1-ish
Rating: PG13
Character: unnamed OC
Warnings: mentions of violence and unnamed OC deaths
Prompt: (song) Only the Strong-Flaw (acoustic version)
Notes: for the march 5, 2011 round of tf_speedwriting and the final piece in my first full set over there. ^_^
I will admit that I did not listen to the song before writing. Inspiration for this piece was drawn totally from the lyrics, as I didn’t want to wake everyone up with music at 1AM. (Nothing makes my dad crankier.) It’s um… not entirely on track with the song. But, as I’ve heard said, a prompt is where I start but not necessarily where I end up.
There was a lot of ash and dust where a city used to be.
Metal flakes fell from the sky in the silent aftermath of the attack, blanketing everything in softness. It was a scene that didn’t deserve to be made soft, buildings blasted apart by weapons so strong the metal components were reduced to so much dust in the air. Carefully wrought streets, laid by meticulous hands over hundreds of vorns, ripped apart by tank treads and laser blasts. The dead and nearly dead strewn among the ruins like toys discarded by a careless sparkling.
He lay among them, staring up at the sky-deepest black and full of so many stars-and wondered why he didn’t hurt more. His city was gone, his family dead and grey not two meters away and most of his body crushed under the remains of their home’s main support beam. Somehow, it didn’t hurt and the more logical part of his mind said he was going into shock.
Yes, that sounded right. Too much input for mind or body to process. Come back later.
Slowly, without even being aware of it, he slipped offline.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Groons later, he was awakened by the sounds of voices.
They were out of place in this city of death and silence and for the longest moment, he couldn’t understand who they might belong to. After all, all the mechs in this city were dead.
Except for him.
Then, after long moments of very slow processing, he realized who they must be: scavengers. Looting the dead for whatever scrap or salvage they could find. Barely a step above the mechanimals he had loved to study.
He started to give in to despair as he heard the voices come closer. Scavengers wouldn’t rescue him. Wouldn’t even give him energon so that he could-laughable as the idea was-try to help himself. No, they would strip him for parts even as he screamed and not even do him the service of putting him out of his misery afterward.
He offlined his optics before he had to see them.
“Sir! I found one alive!”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
He hadn’t been able to believe it when the beam had been lifted off him, or when the medic had stabilized his systems or when he had been transported to a real medical station. He had been so sure they were scavengers, but they had done more than just pull him from the wreckage.
They were even giving him a councilor, someone to help him work through his loss and pain. The news feeds had always vilified these Autobots, but they had given him aid and comfort in his time of need. It was directly opposite of everything he had been taught to believe.
He looked at them now, and truly believed that everything could possibly end right. Someday.
Until then, he would repay their help by standing tall and being strong enough to offer the same assistance in the future.
Universe: G1-ish
Rating: PG13
Character: unnamed OC
Warnings: mentions of violence and unnamed OC deaths
Prompt: (song) Only the Strong-Flaw (acoustic version)
Notes: for the march 5, 2011 round of tf_speedwriting and the final piece in my first full set over there. ^_^
I will admit that I did not listen to the song before writing. Inspiration for this piece was drawn totally from the lyrics, as I didn’t want to wake everyone up with music at 1AM. (Nothing makes my dad crankier.) It’s um… not entirely on track with the song. But, as I’ve heard said, a prompt is where I start but not necessarily where I end up.
There was a lot of ash and dust where a city used to be.
Metal flakes fell from the sky in the silent aftermath of the attack, blanketing everything in softness. It was a scene that didn’t deserve to be made soft, buildings blasted apart by weapons so strong the metal components were reduced to so much dust in the air. Carefully wrought streets, laid by meticulous hands over hundreds of vorns, ripped apart by tank treads and laser blasts. The dead and nearly dead strewn among the ruins like toys discarded by a careless sparkling.
He lay among them, staring up at the sky-deepest black and full of so many stars-and wondered why he didn’t hurt more. His city was gone, his family dead and grey not two meters away and most of his body crushed under the remains of their home’s main support beam. Somehow, it didn’t hurt and the more logical part of his mind said he was going into shock.
Yes, that sounded right. Too much input for mind or body to process. Come back later.
Slowly, without even being aware of it, he slipped offline.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Groons later, he was awakened by the sounds of voices.
They were out of place in this city of death and silence and for the longest moment, he couldn’t understand who they might belong to. After all, all the mechs in this city were dead.
Except for him.
Then, after long moments of very slow processing, he realized who they must be: scavengers. Looting the dead for whatever scrap or salvage they could find. Barely a step above the mechanimals he had loved to study.
He started to give in to despair as he heard the voices come closer. Scavengers wouldn’t rescue him. Wouldn’t even give him energon so that he could-laughable as the idea was-try to help himself. No, they would strip him for parts even as he screamed and not even do him the service of putting him out of his misery afterward.
He offlined his optics before he had to see them.
“Sir! I found one alive!”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
He hadn’t been able to believe it when the beam had been lifted off him, or when the medic had stabilized his systems or when he had been transported to a real medical station. He had been so sure they were scavengers, but they had done more than just pull him from the wreckage.
They were even giving him a councilor, someone to help him work through his loss and pain. The news feeds had always vilified these Autobots, but they had given him aid and comfort in his time of need. It was directly opposite of everything he had been taught to believe.
He looked at them now, and truly believed that everything could possibly end right. Someday.
Until then, he would repay their help by standing tall and being strong enough to offer the same assistance in the future.