OLD PROMPTS 9 Feb 2013 "So close..." + 3 Sep 2011 Somewhere I Belong
Title: Chapter twenty-four of For a Few Upgrades More
Warnings/content advice: introspective bots. fancy dancing.
Rating: Pg-13
Continuity: Transformers Animated
Characters: Lockdown, Slipstream, Soundwave, with supporting Laserbeak and Ratbat
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro et al, not to me
Prompt: 9 Feb 2013 "So close..." + 3 Sep 2011 Linkin Park - Somewhere I Belong
Lockdown waited in the Eurythman version of an oilhouse, which was something like sports bars he'd heard of on Earth, except without the sports and with a lot more music. Soundwave would probably understand better, he thought. Slipstream and their boxy companion were supposedly on their way, after one last errand in the city. It gave Lockdown time to think as he sipped oil. He'd been doing that a lot, lately. That and meditating, which was more not-thinking, but just as likely to cause his processor to stick on old memories.
It wasn't regret, he told himself. Hardest decision he'd ever had to make was still that same one. Others might have offered opportunity or suggested timing, but Lockdown fully accepted the choice of betraying the Corps as his own. The decision to reject the system of control that felt like restraint, the spiritual crud, the constant demeaning of his worth - all that had been fully conscious and intended.
That was not in question. He'd even do it all again. The question, because there was one, was why he now clung even more to those teachings. Kids were right. They'd been on the Death's Head long enough. They knew his taste in mods and trophies. They knew what holochips and datapads he kept through his transient life. They knew his moves. Lockdown was what was usually termed a bounty hunter, but he was in all but name a ninja.
A couple things Slipstream had said, in particular, had been nagging at his processor. There was something she'd said, a while back about teamwork. She'd said it was an Autobot idea, but one she approved of. She'd said it worked for Optimus Prime. Lockdown sorta got her point. He'd seen Grapplers and his team take down Starscreams. He'd seen upclose how Grapplers and Nunchaku had taken down Ramjet. Slag, those were nice grapplers.
Lockdown hadn't really agreed with the jet, maybe not until she and Wave helped him take Marcato and his compatriots into custody. Sparks! Fraggin' sparks! Wasn't enough, apparently to rely solely on one's own spark, but to understand its nature and the nature of others, and how talents and temperaments complimented each other.
And if Lockdown had been the one who was wrong in misunderstanding that- Well, he wasn't wrong about leaving the Corps, or about confronting his former master. But he'd started meditating again, as if it would somehow bring clarity or enlighten him on how bad an idea it was to keep the kids around.
"So close...." He voiced quietly, then sipped his oil, as the kids in question entered together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soundwave carried the plain, square box under one arm as he entered the oil house at Slipstream's side. They'd finished their banking and shopping errands and were content to meet Lockdown to celebrate the job they'd completed together. There was a curious curve to the bartop, like a low-amplitude wave, so that one end was higher than the other. Lockdown was there. Soundwave tried to fix his attention there. The wondrous sounds coming from everywhere on this planet could still affect him, but it was not so extreme as on his first visit, if he wore the embroidered poncho and consciously constrained his senses to a few points of focus, it became manageable.
"What's in the box?" Lockdown asked casually, as Soundwave spoke to the bartender.
"What he's having." Soundwave laid the broad side of the thin box to the bartop. "Show you later."
"Your box."
"It's a gift."
Lockdown tipped his head towards Slipstream. She was away from the bar, seemingly scanning the building for points of egress.
"For you. I might let you open it."
"Yeah?"
"It's cool," Soundwave said. The atmosphere of Eurythma encouraged lowering of the restaint he'd built and tightened further in recent times. Soundwave was aware of it, but this was only semi-conscious. Still true he hadn't Slipstream's particularly volatile temper, but he had the potential to feel greatly, to empathize and react to inputs around him, and maybe, he even feared he would be lost if he let go.
Lockdown leaned weight into Soundwave's shoulder. "Should we open it here?"
Soundwave stepped ever so closer to Lockdown. "Go on." He watched as Lockdown deftly used his hook to pry open a narrow end of the box. The object inside was cushioned by a kind of spun wire.
"Could probably make something of this stuff," Lockdown said as he dug the gift from its packaging. It was broad, metal, and circular, with a few smaller pieces intended to complete assembly. "It's a gong."
"This one is Eurythman Meditation Gong," Soundwave explained, "They have something similar on Earth, but not this metal." He felt awkward as Lockdown seemed to study the gift. Maybe, Soundwave thought, his data analysis had been lacking, and Lockdown would not appreciate this gift.
"On Cybertron, too. The gongs- they're supposed to alter your vibratory frequency. Help you find or restore balance. Resonate with the vibrations of the universe or some scr- I mean-" Lockdown lifted his hand and stroked the side of Soundwave's helmet. "Thank, Wave."
"The theories are sound."
Lockdown laughed, understanding his pun. It made Soundwave smile behind his mask.
"You-" Lockdown put an arm around Soundwave to pull him close. Soundwave leaned against him, senses alert for a sign he'd be pushed away. Soundwave wanted this: thoughtless casual touches that signified familiarity. Data. He still wanted that, but he was not sure whether he could have that without the rough, passionate contact that Lockdown seemed to share with others. Touching made all other input more intense, and Soundwave shied from it.
He was not rough, passionate, and commanding. Just Soundwave. A rockstar, maybe, but not anything like a political leader or warlord. Just a competent, faithful lieutenant. He wanted to understand how his cowboy could fit with the commander and him. "So close...."
"Too much?" Lockdown's voice was low. Soundwave still adored the rasp and gravel of his voice.
"Good. Enough for now."
"All right," Lockdown said easily. He rubbed the top of Soundwave's helmet once more, then stepped to the side.
"If you ask nicely, she might dance with you."
For a nanoklik Lockdown seemed startled, but his expression shifted to amusement as his optics scanned the interior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slipstream didn't know if this place was more oil house or dinnerclub, with its bar and low-volume overhead news screens, with its dance floor lit by crystalline chandeliers. Either way, she'd determined there were at least three exits one her size could take if needed. It was safe.
The house band didn't side with Marcato's new forms of expression, but played various orchestral instruments, only a few of which corresponded to those she knew from Earth or memory. It was lively, but sort of Ethereal Musicbox to her thinking.
"You wanna dance?"
Slipstream smiled, slightly. She wasn't opposed, but Lockdown needed to ask more nicely. "That supposed to be an invitation?"
Lockdown inclined toward her and extended his hook, "Would you please honor me with a dance, Slipstream?"
"Well since you asked so politely, I guess I will."
"Just guess?" OK, he kinda had her there, not that she particularly liked being beat at her own game.
"Oh, I'd be delighted," she ground out.
"You sound delighted." He made that annoying, amused chuckle. She felt his hand on her side and then his hook nudging her hand. So...she didn't really know this form of dance. "All you have to do is follow," he said, stepping forward as he lightly increased pressure against her side. "Imagine you should be able to manage that, if you can fly in formation."
She was going to manage if it killed her! She bowed her head to study his steps.
"No. Optics to optics. When I want you to move, you'll feel it."
"Moving away she said," but she lifted her gaze then stepped back, then to one side.
He laughed it off. "There ya go. Guess it's true Seekers are light on their feet."
Slipstream pressed her lips together. "Oh, no more than a Cyber-ninja, I imagine."
"If you're into 'Bots," He frowned. He lifted his hook and somehow got her to spin.
She only made a slight misstep in spinning back toward him. Slipstream glared. "That seems yet to be determined. There's not a 'Con protoformed into a frame like that. Besides, there'd be a price on your head if you'd ever taken the brand then defected."
He didn't answer for a while, but his steps were tense, and it actually worried Slipstream. A little. "Bot can't help how they were protoformed. Expect present company to understand something like that."
"True. We're just made that way. Can take a lot of work to distinguish ourselves. Body work or otherwise."
Lockdown grinned wide at her as he pressed her into a turn, "Yet to be determined sounds like I still have a chance." Slipstream was only half listening, because the turn had put one of the overhead screens in her line of sight and she knew that gold and red Omega Sentinel! She pulled Lockdown's hand from her waist, and pulled him after her.
"You! Can you increase volume there! Is that sourced from Cybertron?"
"That's Cybertron all right," Lockdown agreed. For some reason he was squeezing her hand, or she was his. Slipstream didn't know.
Shockwave. Magnus Hammer. Ratchet. Organics. Omega Supreme. Abducted Autobot. Shots fired from fortress Maximus on one of the Autobot's greatest war assets. This had just happened. "We were so close...."
Warnings/content advice: introspective bots. fancy dancing.
Rating: Pg-13
Continuity: Transformers Animated
Characters: Lockdown, Slipstream, Soundwave, with supporting Laserbeak and Ratbat
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro et al, not to me
Prompt: 9 Feb 2013 "So close..." + 3 Sep 2011 Linkin Park - Somewhere I Belong
Lockdown waited in the Eurythman version of an oilhouse, which was something like sports bars he'd heard of on Earth, except without the sports and with a lot more music. Soundwave would probably understand better, he thought. Slipstream and their boxy companion were supposedly on their way, after one last errand in the city. It gave Lockdown time to think as he sipped oil. He'd been doing that a lot, lately. That and meditating, which was more not-thinking, but just as likely to cause his processor to stick on old memories.
It wasn't regret, he told himself. Hardest decision he'd ever had to make was still that same one. Others might have offered opportunity or suggested timing, but Lockdown fully accepted the choice of betraying the Corps as his own. The decision to reject the system of control that felt like restraint, the spiritual crud, the constant demeaning of his worth - all that had been fully conscious and intended.
That was not in question. He'd even do it all again. The question, because there was one, was why he now clung even more to those teachings. Kids were right. They'd been on the Death's Head long enough. They knew his taste in mods and trophies. They knew what holochips and datapads he kept through his transient life. They knew his moves. Lockdown was what was usually termed a bounty hunter, but he was in all but name a ninja.
A couple things Slipstream had said, in particular, had been nagging at his processor. There was something she'd said, a while back about teamwork. She'd said it was an Autobot idea, but one she approved of. She'd said it worked for Optimus Prime. Lockdown sorta got her point. He'd seen Grapplers and his team take down Starscreams. He'd seen upclose how Grapplers and Nunchaku had taken down Ramjet. Slag, those were nice grapplers.
Lockdown hadn't really agreed with the jet, maybe not until she and Wave helped him take Marcato and his compatriots into custody. Sparks! Fraggin' sparks! Wasn't enough, apparently to rely solely on one's own spark, but to understand its nature and the nature of others, and how talents and temperaments complimented each other.
And if Lockdown had been the one who was wrong in misunderstanding that- Well, he wasn't wrong about leaving the Corps, or about confronting his former master. But he'd started meditating again, as if it would somehow bring clarity or enlighten him on how bad an idea it was to keep the kids around.
"So close...." He voiced quietly, then sipped his oil, as the kids in question entered together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soundwave carried the plain, square box under one arm as he entered the oil house at Slipstream's side. They'd finished their banking and shopping errands and were content to meet Lockdown to celebrate the job they'd completed together. There was a curious curve to the bartop, like a low-amplitude wave, so that one end was higher than the other. Lockdown was there. Soundwave tried to fix his attention there. The wondrous sounds coming from everywhere on this planet could still affect him, but it was not so extreme as on his first visit, if he wore the embroidered poncho and consciously constrained his senses to a few points of focus, it became manageable.
"What's in the box?" Lockdown asked casually, as Soundwave spoke to the bartender.
"What he's having." Soundwave laid the broad side of the thin box to the bartop. "Show you later."
"Your box."
"It's a gift."
Lockdown tipped his head towards Slipstream. She was away from the bar, seemingly scanning the building for points of egress.
"For you. I might let you open it."
"Yeah?"
"It's cool," Soundwave said. The atmosphere of Eurythma encouraged lowering of the restaint he'd built and tightened further in recent times. Soundwave was aware of it, but this was only semi-conscious. Still true he hadn't Slipstream's particularly volatile temper, but he had the potential to feel greatly, to empathize and react to inputs around him, and maybe, he even feared he would be lost if he let go.
Lockdown leaned weight into Soundwave's shoulder. "Should we open it here?"
Soundwave stepped ever so closer to Lockdown. "Go on." He watched as Lockdown deftly used his hook to pry open a narrow end of the box. The object inside was cushioned by a kind of spun wire.
"Could probably make something of this stuff," Lockdown said as he dug the gift from its packaging. It was broad, metal, and circular, with a few smaller pieces intended to complete assembly. "It's a gong."
"This one is Eurythman Meditation Gong," Soundwave explained, "They have something similar on Earth, but not this metal." He felt awkward as Lockdown seemed to study the gift. Maybe, Soundwave thought, his data analysis had been lacking, and Lockdown would not appreciate this gift.
"On Cybertron, too. The gongs- they're supposed to alter your vibratory frequency. Help you find or restore balance. Resonate with the vibrations of the universe or some scr- I mean-" Lockdown lifted his hand and stroked the side of Soundwave's helmet. "Thank, Wave."
"The theories are sound."
Lockdown laughed, understanding his pun. It made Soundwave smile behind his mask.
"You-" Lockdown put an arm around Soundwave to pull him close. Soundwave leaned against him, senses alert for a sign he'd be pushed away. Soundwave wanted this: thoughtless casual touches that signified familiarity. Data. He still wanted that, but he was not sure whether he could have that without the rough, passionate contact that Lockdown seemed to share with others. Touching made all other input more intense, and Soundwave shied from it.
He was not rough, passionate, and commanding. Just Soundwave. A rockstar, maybe, but not anything like a political leader or warlord. Just a competent, faithful lieutenant. He wanted to understand how his cowboy could fit with the commander and him. "So close...."
"Too much?" Lockdown's voice was low. Soundwave still adored the rasp and gravel of his voice.
"Good. Enough for now."
"All right," Lockdown said easily. He rubbed the top of Soundwave's helmet once more, then stepped to the side.
"If you ask nicely, she might dance with you."
For a nanoklik Lockdown seemed startled, but his expression shifted to amusement as his optics scanned the interior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slipstream didn't know if this place was more oil house or dinnerclub, with its bar and low-volume overhead news screens, with its dance floor lit by crystalline chandeliers. Either way, she'd determined there were at least three exits one her size could take if needed. It was safe.
The house band didn't side with Marcato's new forms of expression, but played various orchestral instruments, only a few of which corresponded to those she knew from Earth or memory. It was lively, but sort of Ethereal Musicbox to her thinking.
"You wanna dance?"
Slipstream smiled, slightly. She wasn't opposed, but Lockdown needed to ask more nicely. "That supposed to be an invitation?"
Lockdown inclined toward her and extended his hook, "Would you please honor me with a dance, Slipstream?"
"Well since you asked so politely, I guess I will."
"Just guess?" OK, he kinda had her there, not that she particularly liked being beat at her own game.
"Oh, I'd be delighted," she ground out.
"You sound delighted." He made that annoying, amused chuckle. She felt his hand on her side and then his hook nudging her hand. So...she didn't really know this form of dance. "All you have to do is follow," he said, stepping forward as he lightly increased pressure against her side. "Imagine you should be able to manage that, if you can fly in formation."
She was going to manage if it killed her! She bowed her head to study his steps.
"No. Optics to optics. When I want you to move, you'll feel it."
"Moving away she said," but she lifted her gaze then stepped back, then to one side.
He laughed it off. "There ya go. Guess it's true Seekers are light on their feet."
Slipstream pressed her lips together. "Oh, no more than a Cyber-ninja, I imagine."
"If you're into 'Bots," He frowned. He lifted his hook and somehow got her to spin.
She only made a slight misstep in spinning back toward him. Slipstream glared. "That seems yet to be determined. There's not a 'Con protoformed into a frame like that. Besides, there'd be a price on your head if you'd ever taken the brand then defected."
He didn't answer for a while, but his steps were tense, and it actually worried Slipstream. A little. "Bot can't help how they were protoformed. Expect present company to understand something like that."
"True. We're just made that way. Can take a lot of work to distinguish ourselves. Body work or otherwise."
Lockdown grinned wide at her as he pressed her into a turn, "Yet to be determined sounds like I still have a chance." Slipstream was only half listening, because the turn had put one of the overhead screens in her line of sight and she knew that gold and red Omega Sentinel! She pulled Lockdown's hand from her waist, and pulled him after her.
"You! Can you increase volume there! Is that sourced from Cybertron?"
"That's Cybertron all right," Lockdown agreed. For some reason he was squeezing her hand, or she was his. Slipstream didn't know.
Shockwave. Magnus Hammer. Ratchet. Organics. Omega Supreme. Abducted Autobot. Shots fired from fortress Maximus on one of the Autobot's greatest war assets. This had just happened. "We were so close...."