ATTN: lizkay!
Hey, how cool is this -- we got each others' characters! However, since my robot drawing abilities are sorely lacking, and I don't wish to mar an awesome character with lines that aren't straight, I wrote. :) I'm also contemplating writing a small story based on that pic you drew for me. If you have any suggestions, let me know!
SilverSide Story
TF-Mech Exchange October ’07
Optimus Prime has a cruel sense of humor, SilverSide muttered to himself as he hunkered low on the wet asphalt, trying in vain to avoid the fat droplets. And here I thought Megatron was the sadistic one. Prime far surpasses him in that respect. No Autobot - with the exception of Hound and Trailbreaker - liked to be paired with the foul-mouthed, pessimistic, traitor-sniffing Cliffjumper. Patrol with the red Minibot was considered a form of punishment by some Autobots, and when Prowl handed out the orders, SilverSide wondered if he had done something wrong.
After going through the last few weeks in his cortex, the black Opel Corsa C DTi could find no black marks on his record to warrant such a sentence. He even tried to get the little grey comm officer to hack into Prowl’s files. She merely stared at him, smiled and shook her head. Having filled his social quota for the day, SilverSide decided that Prime was indeed a crueler leader than Megatron. Why else would he stick SilverSide, a mech with a reputation for working alone - and a Decepticon past - with a Minibot who turned on his own at the merest whiff of wrongness?
It was not going to be a pleasant patrol.
“Hey, care to cut the green ghoul glow?”
SilverSide swung an irritated bumper sensor in Cliffjumper’s direction. The Minibot was having a difficult time slogging through the hard rain, low-riding through puddles that merely brushed the pioneer at mid-rim.
“Listen, side-switcher, this ain’t no party for me. Cut the glow! I can’t see!”
Cliffjumper was referring to the glow from SilverSide’s undercarriage, a nice touch when he’d been reconfigured. “Maybe you should seek an upgrade,” SilverSide told him before returning his attention to the road and his misery.
“Yeah, an upgrade,” the Minibot muttered over the comm. “I dunno why Prowl sends me on these slaggin’ missions … and with a former ’con. Slag …”
So, maybe it wasn’t punishment for him - rather, for Cliffjumper. SilverSide tossed that bit of revelation around before losing interest. All he wanted was this trip of the sector over and done with, to be back in his berth, blow-dried and towel-dried until he shone.
“Are you going to shut that light off?” Cliffjumper demanded. “I don’t want to roll into a ditch, for Primus’ sake.”
The Pit forefend, SilverSide grumbled. He should keep the lights on, just to see if the Minibot would indeed do a rollover. It might even prove eventful. But his status with the Autobots, even with Optimus Prime - who was really too trusting to be a warlord - was too tenuous to attempt such a prank.
Click.
“Thank Primus,” Cliffjumper mumbled as the asphalt lost its green overtones.
Truth be told, SilverSide felt a little naked without the adornment. Its glow cast a little color on this otherwise stark - and wet - trip. Earth was a vibrant world, but when things got ugly, so did the scenery. And the driving conditions.
They rolled through Portland and immediately got stuck in the evening traffic crowd. Here the downpour lessened with the crush of buildings, but droplets still found their way to SilverSide’s armor. He flicked his sensors right and left, using his Decepticon past to gauge whether or not the situation was ripe for an attack, despite the fact that this was downtown Portland. Not exactly a hotbed of scientific activity - that time had passed. The Decepticons now concentrated in southern Tennessee, where a new Autobot city was under development. Still, SilverSide didn’t put anything past Megatron.
“What’re you thinking?” Cliffjumper asked suspiciously as they crawled through midtown.
SilverSide ignored him. Not the best strategy, all things considered.
Cliffjumper’s engine rumbled at the slight. “Yeah, keep up with the silent treatment, ’con …”
The Minibot never got to finish his vitriol-laden jab. SilverSide’s sensors blazed, and in the middle of traffic, he transformed, looming over Cliffjumper. Cars honked and drivers yelled in surprise. Chaos erupted in the form of feet slamming gas pedals. Two cars clipped the bumpers of those in front of them and rolled over the sidewalk.
Red Cliffjumper swung onto his feet, straddling two horrified citizens. “Right on! Action!”
SilverSide growled and lifted a hand, only to snap around. Heavy-footed running vibrated through the pavement, sending minor shockwaves up his legs. Cars swayed and buildings trembled slightly. “Call base,” he snapped at Cliffjumper. “We have to lead them out of the city!” He took off running, dodging humans and cars with a step more light-footed than anyone would have thought possible.
“Hey! What!?” Cliffjumper shouted at him as he ran past. SilverSide caught the barest of glimpses of the Minibot’s facial planes: shock and confusion. Why would a former Decepticon care about squishy casualties?
If I need to prove anything to you, the black mech thought as he ran through the clogged streets, pausing only to eject his blades, than this better be it.
A Predacon leapt out at him from beneath an underpass as SilverSide pulled away from the human population. They went down in a tangle of black and orange metal, crashing up against one of the thicker supports. Cement and steel groaned, coating the combatants with a fine layer of dust. Though his hands were filled with sharp yellow jaws, SilverSide heard the sounds of panicked humans above them. As he wrestled the Predacon Commander, Razorclaw, an optic caught several humans staring down at them.
The black and orange Lion laughed. “Lucky me, catching a wayward spark. Didja know that there’s a bounty on your sorry, treacherous helm?”
SilverSide knew. He also knew that the bounty fluctuated every time Megatron remembered who he was. Right now it was fairly low, but if -when - he managed to get out of Razorclaw’s grasp, and the Lion returned to his leader, it would go up.
He was also aware that Predacons did not go on solo missions. Where there was one, another - or all five - were to be found.
With a grunt, SilverSide dug his feet into Razorclaw’s torso and heaved the Lion away. The Predacon tumbled through the air, twisting his alt-mode in a manner that was so smoothly feline, his form almost appeared to be liquid metal. Razorclaw landed neatly on all four legs, pausing only a nanosecond to gather himself before launching head-first into the former Decepticon. Metal crashed against metal, gouges forming on either party; SilverSide’s claw-marks might have been shallower, but they were no less effective than the rents Razorclaw put into his armor.
Energon and coolant pooled on the pavement beneath their feet. Green fluid leaked out of the corner of SilverSide’s mouth, and several lines of blue dotted Razorclaw’s frame. Around and around they circled, scoring minor hits on each other.
“I grow tired of this dance,” Razorclaw growled, swinging up onto his hind legs. He transformed and pulled his rifle from subspace. With a crack of thunder, the energy weapon went off - hitting not SilverSide, but the ramp above him. The structure howled in agony and tipped to the side. Rubble slid off the edge.
For a moment, SilverSide paused. The Decepticon in him ignored the screams, wanting only the kill. The Autobot sigil he now wore burned into his spark, angry at this breach of faction loyalty.
In that one second, Razorclaw sighted the black mech.
SilverSide groaned. The red face of Primus blazed - and he reacted. With one smooth motion, he whipped his blade in a screaming arc towards Razorclaw, and jumped backwards to catch the tipping bridge with both hands.
Through the raining dust, he saw Cliffjumper running towards him. Weight pressed down from above; at his feet, pavement groaned and snapped. SilverSide bobbled, hands over his head, fingers digging into the overpass. His feet were trapped in the roadway. A slow trickle of Energon wove its way down his chestplate; coolant from his lips bubbled.
“Hey, buddy! Hold on!”
The pressure was rising, on the inside and out. SilverSide grimaced, his engine racing as the weight continued to press downwards. His system howled; pie-charts and graphs were thrown up in the corners of his optics, warning him of impending stasis-lock.
The next thing he knew, Cliffjumper was scrambling up and over his shoulders, wedging himself between the black mech’s shoulder plates and the underpass. “Push up!” the Minibot commanded.
Mindless, SilverSide did as he was told. With a lurch, he dug his feet into the huge potholes in the pavement; Cliffjumper rose up, his sturdy Minibot shoulders braced against the underpass’s pillar. “C’mon, buddy! Up!”
Where the strength came from, SilverSide could not say. He heaved, using the waning energy in his system to keep Cliffjumper in place. “Good one,” the Minibot called down, his feet locked on either side of SilverSide’s head.
The Chief Medical Officer, Ratchet, retracted his laser scalpel, stood up and dusted off his hands. “You’ll hold until we get you back to the Ark,” he pronounced. With hands on hips, the white mech surveyed the damage wrought to the underpass. A small contingent of Autobots was working on welding the structure back together. “You did a good job,” Ratchet told him.
SilverSide shrugged, staring at the thin lines that marred his satin patina. “I’m an Autobot, aren’t I?”
“I’d say so. That red symbol on your chest isn’t a sticker, that’s for sure,” the CMO groused. Ratchet turned, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “So, who’d you slice in half? There’s Energon and coolant all over the place.”
SilverSide looked up, mildly surprised. He had made a wild throw - and it had found its target. “A Predacon.”
There was a chuckle from behind Ratchet. Cliffjumper appeared, carrying two thin cans of high grade. “Yeah, he sliced Razorclaw pretty good. Divebomb was bobbing and weaving the whole way out on account ol’ catface was nearly cut in two. Here.” The red Minibot shuffled past Ratchet and held out one can.
Warily, SilverSide took the can. Cliffjumper said nothing more, only cracking open his and finishing it in one long swig. With a grin, the Minibot walked off, crunching the can. Ratchet didn’t watch him leave, but made a quiet observation. “You’re in with him,” the CMO said. “Cliffjumper can be a pain in the aft, he has the Autobot cause’s best interest in mind.”
“I don’t need his approval,” SilverSide muttered, cracking the can and sipping slowly. His system beeped merrily at the added fuel.
“No, I suppose you don’t. But we’re a still a small operation here, and personal opinions tend to weigh heavily.”
The can turned in his hands. SilverSide supposed the medic was right. He gulped the last of the high grade and subspaced the can. The Autobots were an unusual bunch; not as soft as most Decepticons were trained to believe. Maybe he would consider Cliffjumper’s seal of approval - but there was so much for him to mull over.
He got to his feet. Movement was stiff, but not as restricting as Ratchet’s previous mumbling had made him believe. Transforming, he rolled past Ratchet and onto the highway.
There had to be a carwash around here somewhere.
SilverSide Story
TF-Mech Exchange October ’07
Optimus Prime has a cruel sense of humor, SilverSide muttered to himself as he hunkered low on the wet asphalt, trying in vain to avoid the fat droplets. And here I thought Megatron was the sadistic one. Prime far surpasses him in that respect. No Autobot - with the exception of Hound and Trailbreaker - liked to be paired with the foul-mouthed, pessimistic, traitor-sniffing Cliffjumper. Patrol with the red Minibot was considered a form of punishment by some Autobots, and when Prowl handed out the orders, SilverSide wondered if he had done something wrong.
After going through the last few weeks in his cortex, the black Opel Corsa C DTi could find no black marks on his record to warrant such a sentence. He even tried to get the little grey comm officer to hack into Prowl’s files. She merely stared at him, smiled and shook her head. Having filled his social quota for the day, SilverSide decided that Prime was indeed a crueler leader than Megatron. Why else would he stick SilverSide, a mech with a reputation for working alone - and a Decepticon past - with a Minibot who turned on his own at the merest whiff of wrongness?
It was not going to be a pleasant patrol.
“Hey, care to cut the green ghoul glow?”
SilverSide swung an irritated bumper sensor in Cliffjumper’s direction. The Minibot was having a difficult time slogging through the hard rain, low-riding through puddles that merely brushed the pioneer at mid-rim.
“Listen, side-switcher, this ain’t no party for me. Cut the glow! I can’t see!”
Cliffjumper was referring to the glow from SilverSide’s undercarriage, a nice touch when he’d been reconfigured. “Maybe you should seek an upgrade,” SilverSide told him before returning his attention to the road and his misery.
“Yeah, an upgrade,” the Minibot muttered over the comm. “I dunno why Prowl sends me on these slaggin’ missions … and with a former ’con. Slag …”
So, maybe it wasn’t punishment for him - rather, for Cliffjumper. SilverSide tossed that bit of revelation around before losing interest. All he wanted was this trip of the sector over and done with, to be back in his berth, blow-dried and towel-dried until he shone.
“Are you going to shut that light off?” Cliffjumper demanded. “I don’t want to roll into a ditch, for Primus’ sake.”
The Pit forefend, SilverSide grumbled. He should keep the lights on, just to see if the Minibot would indeed do a rollover. It might even prove eventful. But his status with the Autobots, even with Optimus Prime - who was really too trusting to be a warlord - was too tenuous to attempt such a prank.
Click.
“Thank Primus,” Cliffjumper mumbled as the asphalt lost its green overtones.
Truth be told, SilverSide felt a little naked without the adornment. Its glow cast a little color on this otherwise stark - and wet - trip. Earth was a vibrant world, but when things got ugly, so did the scenery. And the driving conditions.
They rolled through Portland and immediately got stuck in the evening traffic crowd. Here the downpour lessened with the crush of buildings, but droplets still found their way to SilverSide’s armor. He flicked his sensors right and left, using his Decepticon past to gauge whether or not the situation was ripe for an attack, despite the fact that this was downtown Portland. Not exactly a hotbed of scientific activity - that time had passed. The Decepticons now concentrated in southern Tennessee, where a new Autobot city was under development. Still, SilverSide didn’t put anything past Megatron.
“What’re you thinking?” Cliffjumper asked suspiciously as they crawled through midtown.
SilverSide ignored him. Not the best strategy, all things considered.
Cliffjumper’s engine rumbled at the slight. “Yeah, keep up with the silent treatment, ’con …”
The Minibot never got to finish his vitriol-laden jab. SilverSide’s sensors blazed, and in the middle of traffic, he transformed, looming over Cliffjumper. Cars honked and drivers yelled in surprise. Chaos erupted in the form of feet slamming gas pedals. Two cars clipped the bumpers of those in front of them and rolled over the sidewalk.
Red Cliffjumper swung onto his feet, straddling two horrified citizens. “Right on! Action!”
SilverSide growled and lifted a hand, only to snap around. Heavy-footed running vibrated through the pavement, sending minor shockwaves up his legs. Cars swayed and buildings trembled slightly. “Call base,” he snapped at Cliffjumper. “We have to lead them out of the city!” He took off running, dodging humans and cars with a step more light-footed than anyone would have thought possible.
“Hey! What!?” Cliffjumper shouted at him as he ran past. SilverSide caught the barest of glimpses of the Minibot’s facial planes: shock and confusion. Why would a former Decepticon care about squishy casualties?
If I need to prove anything to you, the black mech thought as he ran through the clogged streets, pausing only to eject his blades, than this better be it.
A Predacon leapt out at him from beneath an underpass as SilverSide pulled away from the human population. They went down in a tangle of black and orange metal, crashing up against one of the thicker supports. Cement and steel groaned, coating the combatants with a fine layer of dust. Though his hands were filled with sharp yellow jaws, SilverSide heard the sounds of panicked humans above them. As he wrestled the Predacon Commander, Razorclaw, an optic caught several humans staring down at them.
The black and orange Lion laughed. “Lucky me, catching a wayward spark. Didja know that there’s a bounty on your sorry, treacherous helm?”
SilverSide knew. He also knew that the bounty fluctuated every time Megatron remembered who he was. Right now it was fairly low, but if -when - he managed to get out of Razorclaw’s grasp, and the Lion returned to his leader, it would go up.
He was also aware that Predacons did not go on solo missions. Where there was one, another - or all five - were to be found.
With a grunt, SilverSide dug his feet into Razorclaw’s torso and heaved the Lion away. The Predacon tumbled through the air, twisting his alt-mode in a manner that was so smoothly feline, his form almost appeared to be liquid metal. Razorclaw landed neatly on all four legs, pausing only a nanosecond to gather himself before launching head-first into the former Decepticon. Metal crashed against metal, gouges forming on either party; SilverSide’s claw-marks might have been shallower, but they were no less effective than the rents Razorclaw put into his armor.
Energon and coolant pooled on the pavement beneath their feet. Green fluid leaked out of the corner of SilverSide’s mouth, and several lines of blue dotted Razorclaw’s frame. Around and around they circled, scoring minor hits on each other.
“I grow tired of this dance,” Razorclaw growled, swinging up onto his hind legs. He transformed and pulled his rifle from subspace. With a crack of thunder, the energy weapon went off - hitting not SilverSide, but the ramp above him. The structure howled in agony and tipped to the side. Rubble slid off the edge.
For a moment, SilverSide paused. The Decepticon in him ignored the screams, wanting only the kill. The Autobot sigil he now wore burned into his spark, angry at this breach of faction loyalty.
In that one second, Razorclaw sighted the black mech.
SilverSide groaned. The red face of Primus blazed - and he reacted. With one smooth motion, he whipped his blade in a screaming arc towards Razorclaw, and jumped backwards to catch the tipping bridge with both hands.
Through the raining dust, he saw Cliffjumper running towards him. Weight pressed down from above; at his feet, pavement groaned and snapped. SilverSide bobbled, hands over his head, fingers digging into the overpass. His feet were trapped in the roadway. A slow trickle of Energon wove its way down his chestplate; coolant from his lips bubbled.
“Hey, buddy! Hold on!”
The pressure was rising, on the inside and out. SilverSide grimaced, his engine racing as the weight continued to press downwards. His system howled; pie-charts and graphs were thrown up in the corners of his optics, warning him of impending stasis-lock.
The next thing he knew, Cliffjumper was scrambling up and over his shoulders, wedging himself between the black mech’s shoulder plates and the underpass. “Push up!” the Minibot commanded.
Mindless, SilverSide did as he was told. With a lurch, he dug his feet into the huge potholes in the pavement; Cliffjumper rose up, his sturdy Minibot shoulders braced against the underpass’s pillar. “C’mon, buddy! Up!”
Where the strength came from, SilverSide could not say. He heaved, using the waning energy in his system to keep Cliffjumper in place. “Good one,” the Minibot called down, his feet locked on either side of SilverSide’s head.
The Chief Medical Officer, Ratchet, retracted his laser scalpel, stood up and dusted off his hands. “You’ll hold until we get you back to the Ark,” he pronounced. With hands on hips, the white mech surveyed the damage wrought to the underpass. A small contingent of Autobots was working on welding the structure back together. “You did a good job,” Ratchet told him.
SilverSide shrugged, staring at the thin lines that marred his satin patina. “I’m an Autobot, aren’t I?”
“I’d say so. That red symbol on your chest isn’t a sticker, that’s for sure,” the CMO groused. Ratchet turned, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “So, who’d you slice in half? There’s Energon and coolant all over the place.”
SilverSide looked up, mildly surprised. He had made a wild throw - and it had found its target. “A Predacon.”
There was a chuckle from behind Ratchet. Cliffjumper appeared, carrying two thin cans of high grade. “Yeah, he sliced Razorclaw pretty good. Divebomb was bobbing and weaving the whole way out on account ol’ catface was nearly cut in two. Here.” The red Minibot shuffled past Ratchet and held out one can.
Warily, SilverSide took the can. Cliffjumper said nothing more, only cracking open his and finishing it in one long swig. With a grin, the Minibot walked off, crunching the can. Ratchet didn’t watch him leave, but made a quiet observation. “You’re in with him,” the CMO said. “Cliffjumper can be a pain in the aft, he has the Autobot cause’s best interest in mind.”
“I don’t need his approval,” SilverSide muttered, cracking the can and sipping slowly. His system beeped merrily at the added fuel.
“No, I suppose you don’t. But we’re a still a small operation here, and personal opinions tend to weigh heavily.”
The can turned in his hands. SilverSide supposed the medic was right. He gulped the last of the high grade and subspaced the can. The Autobots were an unusual bunch; not as soft as most Decepticons were trained to believe. Maybe he would consider Cliffjumper’s seal of approval - but there was so much for him to mull over.
He got to his feet. Movement was stiff, but not as restricting as Ratchet’s previous mumbling had made him believe. Transforming, he rolled past Ratchet and onto the highway.
There had to be a carwash around here somewhere.