Spark Deep -- Chapter 3: Monsters
Title: Chapter 3: Monsters
Rating: K+
Continuity: AU G1
Chapter 3: Monsters
“Eep!” Bluestreak squeaked, and flattened himself against the door, doorwings tucked tightly to his back, hands fisted over his chassis. His wide optics trailed over the form in front of him.
It looked like a cross between a mech and a cyberwolf. Yellow armor was flared angrily, the long spikes around the head and shoulders fluffed out. Long, clawed digits were splayed over the ground. Its back legs were double-jointed, like a Seeker's, so that it was always walking on its toes. Its spinal strut was arched, forcing it to hunch over. Its helm was black, with two back-swept yellow fins. A long, pointed snout full of fangs was so close to his face that Bluestreak could feel the heavy, hot exvents fluttering over his plating.
“Please,” the gray mech pleaded, not knowing what, exactly, he was asking for. But his fear slowly abated as the thing did nothing. And, as the panic receded, recognition rose in its place. The yellow armor, the helm fins...
“Sunstreaker?”
The monster - mech - snarled and turned its - his - helm away, glaring at the floor. There was another deep growl, that sounded vaguely reminiscent of a certain playful laugh, and Bluestreak glanced down the hallway. Another of the wolflike monsters was sitting there, all red and black plating, a wicked grin on his snout.
“Sideswipe?”
The wolf-mech nodded, grin widening. Bluestreak flinched at the sight of the sharp fangs, and Sideswipe gave a snort.
Sunstreaker growled lowly again and turned to nudge Bluestreak. The Praxian flinched again at the touch of the snout. The fangs were mere millimeters away from his side. Millimeters from vital components and delicate pieces...
With another snort, Sideswipe stalked over and nudged his brother out of the way. After he had Bluestreak's attention, he jerked his chin in the direction the gray mech had come from.
The intent was clear. Get out.
Bluestreak scrambled to do just that.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Mirage, a slim, blue and white mech, found him in the party room at the same table he had sat at with Hound the previous night.
“Master Bluestreak,” the servant said, inclining his helm slightly. Bluestreak blinked up at him.
“You aren't scared of me,” he blurted, then slapped his hands over his mouth.
Mirage smiled. “No, I am not. Unlike most others here, I was not always a servant.”
“You weren't? Well, then, how- No, I shouldn't ask that. It's not any of my business, and you don't have to answer, and-”
“Master Bluestreak, I don't mind. I’ve gotten over it.”
“Huh?”
The blue and white mech sat down. “It was a long time ago. I was stupid and young... I came here to party and have a good night, and lost... too much. I was over-charged and foolish, and I bet myself. I lost.”
“Like my cousin Smokescreen did. He accidentally bet my contract... The government wrote that up, you know. He never needed it, though... He would have helped me even without it.”
“Yes, I thought as much. I heard him when he realized what he lost. But it was brave of you to come. He told me you offered before he left.”
“I did.” Bluestreak paused, glancing down at the table. “I didn't think... I was... This is...”
“You saw the Lords.”
The gray mech looked up, optics full of fear. “What's...?”
“That is not my story to tell. If I were you, I would ask them tonight, before the party.”
Bluestreak nodded slowly. “I... I don't know...”
Mirage smiled faintly. “I understand. Do so when you are ready. Now, I have duties to attend to. However, like all the servants here, I am at your command. Should you ever need to talk...”
Bluestreak managed a strained little smile.“Thanks, Mirage.”
“No problem at all, Master Bluestreak.”
And the former noble was gone. Bluestreak remained where he was, in his quiet corner of the lonely room.
Until he heard a crash from outside the doors, and a gasped cry of, “My Lords!”
He jumped to his feet and hurried to the door, opening it quickly, then jumping back as he saw the matching red and yellow frames. He glanced past them to see one of the servants staring, wide-optic'd, at the two Lords, the shattered, sticky remains of a cube of energon at his pedes.
Bluestreak looked back to the two lords of the house, who were looking at him curiously, tails swishing gently back and forth.
They looked.... They looked like kicked turbo-puppies, the gray mech thought to himself. Well, Sideswipe did. Sunstreaker looked a bit more dignified, more like a beaten, but nowhere near broken, cyberwolf.
Bluestreak couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. But they were still so frightening. All sharp edges, pointy teeth and claws. They were predators. There was no doubt about that.
“I...” he started, frowning in confusion and frustration. “I- I’m sorry, I-” he broke off, vocalizer hissing static. He took a shuddering intake, then hurried past the two half-wolf figures and up the stairs. A moment later, he was leaning against his door, blinking at the firelight, cycling his vents heavily.
What the frag was going on here?
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
That night, once again, heavy music rumbled through the whole house. Bluestreak chose to stay in his room. He hadn’t left since he had retreated there earlier that orn. Hound had come to see him, to tell him that he would be unavailable for the night, but that both Mirage and Trailbreaker were only a comm call away.
Bluestreak had given only monosyllabic replies, and Hound left with a sad, sympathetic smile on his face.
The rest of the night, the gray mech spent sitting on his berth, doorwings tucked tight to his back and knees pulled up to his chassis.
He dozed off once or twice, but never for long. The time was spent watching his chronometer tick down the kliks.
Until morning was approaching, and there was a knock on his door. He did not answer, said nothing, just looked up.
It opened to reveal two tall, broad-shouldered figures, one with devilish helm horns, the other with sweeping audio fins.
The gray mech just stared as they stepped in.
“Bluestreak,” Sideswipe started, shifting nervously.
Sunstreaker shook his helm and vented. “Mirage told us that you were a- a bit freaked out.”
Bluestreak just stared.
“So we... Well, you can ask us whatever you want. We... we didn't want to scare you. Usually, we don't allow anyone in our wing of the house during the day... I... We didn't think to warn you.”
“We're... sorry.”
They stood awkwardly for a long moment, then glanced at each other. Sideswipe vented again. “You can come and ask us anything whenever you want. We... can't speak when we're... during the day. We have comms, but things sound... weird. But... We're serious. Whenever you want, whatever. We'll answer it if we can.”
With that, they nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.
Rating: K+
Continuity: AU G1
Chapter 3: Monsters
“Eep!” Bluestreak squeaked, and flattened himself against the door, doorwings tucked tightly to his back, hands fisted over his chassis. His wide optics trailed over the form in front of him.
It looked like a cross between a mech and a cyberwolf. Yellow armor was flared angrily, the long spikes around the head and shoulders fluffed out. Long, clawed digits were splayed over the ground. Its back legs were double-jointed, like a Seeker's, so that it was always walking on its toes. Its spinal strut was arched, forcing it to hunch over. Its helm was black, with two back-swept yellow fins. A long, pointed snout full of fangs was so close to his face that Bluestreak could feel the heavy, hot exvents fluttering over his plating.
“Please,” the gray mech pleaded, not knowing what, exactly, he was asking for. But his fear slowly abated as the thing did nothing. And, as the panic receded, recognition rose in its place. The yellow armor, the helm fins...
“Sunstreaker?”
The monster - mech - snarled and turned its - his - helm away, glaring at the floor. There was another deep growl, that sounded vaguely reminiscent of a certain playful laugh, and Bluestreak glanced down the hallway. Another of the wolflike monsters was sitting there, all red and black plating, a wicked grin on his snout.
“Sideswipe?”
The wolf-mech nodded, grin widening. Bluestreak flinched at the sight of the sharp fangs, and Sideswipe gave a snort.
Sunstreaker growled lowly again and turned to nudge Bluestreak. The Praxian flinched again at the touch of the snout. The fangs were mere millimeters away from his side. Millimeters from vital components and delicate pieces...
With another snort, Sideswipe stalked over and nudged his brother out of the way. After he had Bluestreak's attention, he jerked his chin in the direction the gray mech had come from.
The intent was clear. Get out.
Bluestreak scrambled to do just that.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Mirage, a slim, blue and white mech, found him in the party room at the same table he had sat at with Hound the previous night.
“Master Bluestreak,” the servant said, inclining his helm slightly. Bluestreak blinked up at him.
“You aren't scared of me,” he blurted, then slapped his hands over his mouth.
Mirage smiled. “No, I am not. Unlike most others here, I was not always a servant.”
“You weren't? Well, then, how- No, I shouldn't ask that. It's not any of my business, and you don't have to answer, and-”
“Master Bluestreak, I don't mind. I’ve gotten over it.”
“Huh?”
The blue and white mech sat down. “It was a long time ago. I was stupid and young... I came here to party and have a good night, and lost... too much. I was over-charged and foolish, and I bet myself. I lost.”
“Like my cousin Smokescreen did. He accidentally bet my contract... The government wrote that up, you know. He never needed it, though... He would have helped me even without it.”
“Yes, I thought as much. I heard him when he realized what he lost. But it was brave of you to come. He told me you offered before he left.”
“I did.” Bluestreak paused, glancing down at the table. “I didn't think... I was... This is...”
“You saw the Lords.”
The gray mech looked up, optics full of fear. “What's...?”
“That is not my story to tell. If I were you, I would ask them tonight, before the party.”
Bluestreak nodded slowly. “I... I don't know...”
Mirage smiled faintly. “I understand. Do so when you are ready. Now, I have duties to attend to. However, like all the servants here, I am at your command. Should you ever need to talk...”
Bluestreak managed a strained little smile.“Thanks, Mirage.”
“No problem at all, Master Bluestreak.”
And the former noble was gone. Bluestreak remained where he was, in his quiet corner of the lonely room.
Until he heard a crash from outside the doors, and a gasped cry of, “My Lords!”
He jumped to his feet and hurried to the door, opening it quickly, then jumping back as he saw the matching red and yellow frames. He glanced past them to see one of the servants staring, wide-optic'd, at the two Lords, the shattered, sticky remains of a cube of energon at his pedes.
Bluestreak looked back to the two lords of the house, who were looking at him curiously, tails swishing gently back and forth.
They looked.... They looked like kicked turbo-puppies, the gray mech thought to himself. Well, Sideswipe did. Sunstreaker looked a bit more dignified, more like a beaten, but nowhere near broken, cyberwolf.
Bluestreak couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. But they were still so frightening. All sharp edges, pointy teeth and claws. They were predators. There was no doubt about that.
“I...” he started, frowning in confusion and frustration. “I- I’m sorry, I-” he broke off, vocalizer hissing static. He took a shuddering intake, then hurried past the two half-wolf figures and up the stairs. A moment later, he was leaning against his door, blinking at the firelight, cycling his vents heavily.
What the frag was going on here?
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
That night, once again, heavy music rumbled through the whole house. Bluestreak chose to stay in his room. He hadn’t left since he had retreated there earlier that orn. Hound had come to see him, to tell him that he would be unavailable for the night, but that both Mirage and Trailbreaker were only a comm call away.
Bluestreak had given only monosyllabic replies, and Hound left with a sad, sympathetic smile on his face.
The rest of the night, the gray mech spent sitting on his berth, doorwings tucked tight to his back and knees pulled up to his chassis.
He dozed off once or twice, but never for long. The time was spent watching his chronometer tick down the kliks.
Until morning was approaching, and there was a knock on his door. He did not answer, said nothing, just looked up.
It opened to reveal two tall, broad-shouldered figures, one with devilish helm horns, the other with sweeping audio fins.
The gray mech just stared as they stepped in.
“Bluestreak,” Sideswipe started, shifting nervously.
Sunstreaker shook his helm and vented. “Mirage told us that you were a- a bit freaked out.”
Bluestreak just stared.
“So we... Well, you can ask us whatever you want. We... we didn't want to scare you. Usually, we don't allow anyone in our wing of the house during the day... I... We didn't think to warn you.”
“We're... sorry.”
They stood awkwardly for a long moment, then glanced at each other. Sideswipe vented again. “You can come and ask us anything whenever you want. We... can't speak when we're... during the day. We have comms, but things sound... weird. But... We're serious. Whenever you want, whatever. We'll answer it if we can.”
With that, they nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.