[May 2008 Entry, #10 of #13] [Mirage & Thundercracker] Sportsmen
Title: Sportsmen
Rating: K
Universe: G1
Characters: Mirage & Thundercracker
Word Count: 1,295
Summary: Can an old friendship survive a new planet and a factional divide? Mirage and Thundercracker learn how much has stayed the same... and how much has changed.
The new moon, the thick cloud cover and the remote location conspired to create a darkness so deep it almost rivaled the absolute blackness of space. For what seemed like hours, the only sound came from the occasional rustle of leaves with the breeze, and the only light came from the occasional human-driven vehicle passing by on the distant two-lane roadway.
For most of the Cybertronians on this unfamiliar organic planet - and, most of the time, for Thundercracker - this was a perfect setting in which to get lost. But on this night, Thundercracker found it the perfect setting in which to see a long-lost friend.
At last, the sound of footfalls on the forest floor gave away the visitor Thundercracker awaited. The Seeker kept his silence and held perfectly still until the sound stopped mere inches from him.
“It’s just me, genius,” Thundercracker said in as quiet an audible voice as possible. “You can show yourself.”
The source of the sound gradually took on a shape, still remaining all but invisible in the pitch black surroundings. “In a few kliks,” he acknowledged, “I would have had no choice in the matter.”
Thundercracker smirked. “Let that be a lesson to you, Mister Cellophane. Next time you wear out that invisibility crutch of yours, remember some of us actually have to learn to be sneaky without it.”
Mirage glared for only a klik before joining Thundercracker’s laughter at his own expense. “Fifty thousand vorns since we last spoke face-to-face without exchanging gunfire,” he remarked, “and still you have a full arsenal of verbal weaponry. Some things never change.”
“Talk like a normal mech now and then, professor,” Thundercracker teased. “It doesn’t hurt, honest.”
Mirage laughed again, but turned serious quickly upon hearing an uninvited rustling noise above his head. He aimed his rifle into the forest canopy at the source of the noise, only relaxing slightly when he discovered that the culprit was an owl landing with its freshly captured meal. Mirage took the false alarm as a warning to keep his guard up and warned Thundercracker, “If anyone finds us -”
“If anyone finds us, we’re both dead,” Thundercracker confirmed his friend’s fears.
“Then remind me again why I agreed to meet you here,” Mirage said, his voice dropping to a whisper as a break in the clouds allowed faint starlight to illuminate the outlines of the mechs’ frames.
“The war must end someday,” Thundercracker said with a mocking regal tone that imitated Mirage’s. “And when the time comes, it will be our solemn responsibility to ensure that there are still at least two decent turbofox hunters on Cybertron.”
Mirage ignored Thundercracker’s impersonation. “I regret to inform you there are no turbofoxes on this planet.”
“And?”
“And without turbofoxes to hunt, how do you propose we stay in practice?”
Thundercracker smiled at Mirage’s ignorance of their new surroundings. The flyer silently called the grounder’s attention to a small creature covered in reddish fur. At the sight of the two mechs, the creature scampered skittishly into the cover provided by the forest.
Mirage only looked more puzzled. “What does that… thing have to do with our predicament?”
“Everything,” Thundercracker said with a widening grin.
Mirage pondered this for a moment. Pondering only left him more confused. “You mean to tell me… that tiny organic furball is -”
“A fox,” Thundercracker finished the sentence. “Not a turbofox, but even a plain fox is better than nothing.” He tracked the nervous creature as it ducked and dodged through the trees. “And besides, they behave pretty much the same.”
Mirage’s face cracked into a grin that matched Thundercracker’s. “You, my friend, are brilliant.”
“I know,” Thundercracker replied with no trace of humility.
Mirage focused his optics on the animal, which had reached what it apparently believed to be a safe hiding place behind a rotting tree stump. “Shall we?” he grandly invited.
“We shall,” Thundercracker equally grandly accepted.
The two friends, reluctant Autobot and reluctant Decepticon, set off in the direction of the fox’s insufficient hideaway. Mirage prepped his rifle and maneuvered to the left of Thundercracker, who crept remarkably quietly through the ground cover of twigs and leaves. Mirage silently marveled at how easily the Seeker renowned for his trademark noise could become noiseless.
“News flash, smarty,” Thundercracker whispered. “I can see you.”
“Becoming suddenly visible attracts more attention than remaining visible from the outset,” Mirage whispered back.
“Point,” Thundercracker grudgingly conceded.
The two mechs stationed themselves near the stump where the fox had concealed itself. Mirage raised first his hand, then his rifle. Thundercracker followed the silent command and held perfectly still, as did Mirage until the animal emerged, believing itself to be safe.
Mirage aimed and fired, striking the animal perfectly on the scruff of its neck. The fox staggered around for a few moments and fell motionless. Mirage confidently patted the barrel of his rifle as if to congratulate it on hitting the mark. Thundercracker let out a cheer and gathered the small animal. “You get the first trophy,” the Seeker said as he presented the creature to Mirage. “As usual.”
Mirage accepted the prize… then gently lowered the prize to the ground, in the same unsuccessful hiding place it had chosen. Thundercracker looked rapidly back and forth between Mirage and his quarry. “What the - why did - what are you doing?” he spluttered.
“Watch,” Mirage chided the Decepticon. Under the watchful gaze of the two mechs, the animal groggily came to, stumbled sleepily in a circle to get its bearings and bounded deeper into the woods.
“You let it go.” Thundercracker shook his head. “You let the slagging furball go.”
“Very observant,” Mirage quipped.
“Wasn’t your rifle loaded, you microbrain?”
“Yes. With stun darts. You told me to come prepared for sport.”
“Stun - what’s the point of hunting if you’re not gonna kill anything?”
“Apoplexy does not become you, Thundercracker,” Mirage mildly scolded his furious friend.
“I don’t care if - what’s an apoplexy?” Thundercracker asked.
“Never mind.” Mirage raised a hand to stop Thundercracker from resuming his tirade. “Many of this planet’s humans find great benefit in similar practices, particularly in aquatic hunting - catch-and-release, they call it, I believe. It allows them to enjoy the surroundings, to escape from the tedium of urban existence and appreciate the unspoiled wilderness without harming it, and to enjoy and preserve the life forms that populate it.”
“Spare me the preaching, reverend,” Thundercracker snapped. “You’ve gone native… no, it’s worse than that. You’ve gone Autobot.”
“You say that as though it is a bad thing,” Mirage said, maintaining his calm.
“It’s a bad thing for survival!” Thundercracker shouted. “All this highbrow slag about preserving life and freedom and whatever else Optimus spouts at you in his holier-than-thou pep talks - what happens when the life you’re so excited about preserving tries to take yours?”
Mirage shook his head slowly. “I fail to see how a small organic animal could harm us.”
“That’s not the point,” Thundercracker said, now more resigned than angry. “You’re not Raj anymore. You’re… all soft and squishy.”
“Fifty thousand vorns do change a mech, I suppose,” Mirage blankly replied. “One could similarly argue that you have gone Decepticon.”
The two friends, reluctant Autobot and reluctant Decepticon, stared wordlessly at each other for almost a full minute. Mirage maintained a calm, emotionless countenance. Thundercracker’s expression turned from defiance to sorrow and finally to grim iciness.
The Seeker turned sharply away, launched into the air with his foot-thrusters and transformed. “See ya,” he called by way of token farewell.
Mirage waited until he could no longer hear the engines’ roar before he allowed his emotionless mask to yield to a sorrowful gaze in the Seeker’s direction of travel. “Goodbye, Thundercracker,” he sighed as though his old friend could hear.
Rating: K
Universe: G1
Characters: Mirage & Thundercracker
Word Count: 1,295
Summary: Can an old friendship survive a new planet and a factional divide? Mirage and Thundercracker learn how much has stayed the same... and how much has changed.
The new moon, the thick cloud cover and the remote location conspired to create a darkness so deep it almost rivaled the absolute blackness of space. For what seemed like hours, the only sound came from the occasional rustle of leaves with the breeze, and the only light came from the occasional human-driven vehicle passing by on the distant two-lane roadway.
For most of the Cybertronians on this unfamiliar organic planet - and, most of the time, for Thundercracker - this was a perfect setting in which to get lost. But on this night, Thundercracker found it the perfect setting in which to see a long-lost friend.
At last, the sound of footfalls on the forest floor gave away the visitor Thundercracker awaited. The Seeker kept his silence and held perfectly still until the sound stopped mere inches from him.
“It’s just me, genius,” Thundercracker said in as quiet an audible voice as possible. “You can show yourself.”
The source of the sound gradually took on a shape, still remaining all but invisible in the pitch black surroundings. “In a few kliks,” he acknowledged, “I would have had no choice in the matter.”
Thundercracker smirked. “Let that be a lesson to you, Mister Cellophane. Next time you wear out that invisibility crutch of yours, remember some of us actually have to learn to be sneaky without it.”
Mirage glared for only a klik before joining Thundercracker’s laughter at his own expense. “Fifty thousand vorns since we last spoke face-to-face without exchanging gunfire,” he remarked, “and still you have a full arsenal of verbal weaponry. Some things never change.”
“Talk like a normal mech now and then, professor,” Thundercracker teased. “It doesn’t hurt, honest.”
Mirage laughed again, but turned serious quickly upon hearing an uninvited rustling noise above his head. He aimed his rifle into the forest canopy at the source of the noise, only relaxing slightly when he discovered that the culprit was an owl landing with its freshly captured meal. Mirage took the false alarm as a warning to keep his guard up and warned Thundercracker, “If anyone finds us -”
“If anyone finds us, we’re both dead,” Thundercracker confirmed his friend’s fears.
“Then remind me again why I agreed to meet you here,” Mirage said, his voice dropping to a whisper as a break in the clouds allowed faint starlight to illuminate the outlines of the mechs’ frames.
“The war must end someday,” Thundercracker said with a mocking regal tone that imitated Mirage’s. “And when the time comes, it will be our solemn responsibility to ensure that there are still at least two decent turbofox hunters on Cybertron.”
Mirage ignored Thundercracker’s impersonation. “I regret to inform you there are no turbofoxes on this planet.”
“And?”
“And without turbofoxes to hunt, how do you propose we stay in practice?”
Thundercracker smiled at Mirage’s ignorance of their new surroundings. The flyer silently called the grounder’s attention to a small creature covered in reddish fur. At the sight of the two mechs, the creature scampered skittishly into the cover provided by the forest.
Mirage only looked more puzzled. “What does that… thing have to do with our predicament?”
“Everything,” Thundercracker said with a widening grin.
Mirage pondered this for a moment. Pondering only left him more confused. “You mean to tell me… that tiny organic furball is -”
“A fox,” Thundercracker finished the sentence. “Not a turbofox, but even a plain fox is better than nothing.” He tracked the nervous creature as it ducked and dodged through the trees. “And besides, they behave pretty much the same.”
Mirage’s face cracked into a grin that matched Thundercracker’s. “You, my friend, are brilliant.”
“I know,” Thundercracker replied with no trace of humility.
Mirage focused his optics on the animal, which had reached what it apparently believed to be a safe hiding place behind a rotting tree stump. “Shall we?” he grandly invited.
“We shall,” Thundercracker equally grandly accepted.
The two friends, reluctant Autobot and reluctant Decepticon, set off in the direction of the fox’s insufficient hideaway. Mirage prepped his rifle and maneuvered to the left of Thundercracker, who crept remarkably quietly through the ground cover of twigs and leaves. Mirage silently marveled at how easily the Seeker renowned for his trademark noise could become noiseless.
“News flash, smarty,” Thundercracker whispered. “I can see you.”
“Becoming suddenly visible attracts more attention than remaining visible from the outset,” Mirage whispered back.
“Point,” Thundercracker grudgingly conceded.
The two mechs stationed themselves near the stump where the fox had concealed itself. Mirage raised first his hand, then his rifle. Thundercracker followed the silent command and held perfectly still, as did Mirage until the animal emerged, believing itself to be safe.
Mirage aimed and fired, striking the animal perfectly on the scruff of its neck. The fox staggered around for a few moments and fell motionless. Mirage confidently patted the barrel of his rifle as if to congratulate it on hitting the mark. Thundercracker let out a cheer and gathered the small animal. “You get the first trophy,” the Seeker said as he presented the creature to Mirage. “As usual.”
Mirage accepted the prize… then gently lowered the prize to the ground, in the same unsuccessful hiding place it had chosen. Thundercracker looked rapidly back and forth between Mirage and his quarry. “What the - why did - what are you doing?” he spluttered.
“Watch,” Mirage chided the Decepticon. Under the watchful gaze of the two mechs, the animal groggily came to, stumbled sleepily in a circle to get its bearings and bounded deeper into the woods.
“You let it go.” Thundercracker shook his head. “You let the slagging furball go.”
“Very observant,” Mirage quipped.
“Wasn’t your rifle loaded, you microbrain?”
“Yes. With stun darts. You told me to come prepared for sport.”
“Stun - what’s the point of hunting if you’re not gonna kill anything?”
“Apoplexy does not become you, Thundercracker,” Mirage mildly scolded his furious friend.
“I don’t care if - what’s an apoplexy?” Thundercracker asked.
“Never mind.” Mirage raised a hand to stop Thundercracker from resuming his tirade. “Many of this planet’s humans find great benefit in similar practices, particularly in aquatic hunting - catch-and-release, they call it, I believe. It allows them to enjoy the surroundings, to escape from the tedium of urban existence and appreciate the unspoiled wilderness without harming it, and to enjoy and preserve the life forms that populate it.”
“Spare me the preaching, reverend,” Thundercracker snapped. “You’ve gone native… no, it’s worse than that. You’ve gone Autobot.”
“You say that as though it is a bad thing,” Mirage said, maintaining his calm.
“It’s a bad thing for survival!” Thundercracker shouted. “All this highbrow slag about preserving life and freedom and whatever else Optimus spouts at you in his holier-than-thou pep talks - what happens when the life you’re so excited about preserving tries to take yours?”
Mirage shook his head slowly. “I fail to see how a small organic animal could harm us.”
“That’s not the point,” Thundercracker said, now more resigned than angry. “You’re not Raj anymore. You’re… all soft and squishy.”
“Fifty thousand vorns do change a mech, I suppose,” Mirage blankly replied. “One could similarly argue that you have gone Decepticon.”
The two friends, reluctant Autobot and reluctant Decepticon, stared wordlessly at each other for almost a full minute. Mirage maintained a calm, emotionless countenance. Thundercracker’s expression turned from defiance to sorrow and finally to grim iciness.
The Seeker turned sharply away, launched into the air with his foot-thrusters and transformed. “See ya,” he called by way of token farewell.
Mirage waited until he could no longer hear the engines’ roar before he allowed his emotionless mask to yield to a sorrowful gaze in the Seeker’s direction of travel. “Goodbye, Thundercracker,” he sighed as though his old friend could hear.