Transformers, Stunticon Gestalt Team: #67, Snow
Title: One Hundred Ways to Die
Fandom: Transformers
Characters: Stunticons, half the Constructicons, assorted unnamed Autobots
Prompt: #67, Snow
Word Count: 665 words
Rating: PG
Summary: They are all going to die. Dead End knows this, but in the cold of Ganymede, he finds he can't let Breakdown's warmth extinguish.
Author's Notes: I take Transformers-cartoon-level liberties with Ganymede here. Also, the poem is Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice".
One Hundred Ways to Die
***
Some say the world will end in fire.
"Get up!" Motormaster roars, his face blackened and one optic shattered. He's using his sword to lever himself to his feet, even though Dead End wants to tell him how foolish that is. He is only making himself a target.
But he is Motormaster, and he is angry, and Dead End cannot bring himself to despise the thrill of hope that perhaps Motormaster will be very badly hurt in this encounter.
Drag Strip is at his feet, smoking. Dead End supposes he should do something about that.
The Quintesson war-machine whirrs and chitters as it focuses its heat-beams on Motormaster. His gestalt-leader staggers as one leg explodes into flames.
Dead End kneels and begins to pry open Drag Strip. A Constructicon would have taken his patient to someplace safer, but Constructicons are so optimistic about getting out of life alive. Dead End doesn't see the point.
Wildrider abruptly cackles like a loon over the Stunticon frequency. Then two fast cars, covered in ashes and death, zip out from nowhere, and Breakdown's engine screams.
Dead End can feel his own engine working its way loose.
The Quint war-machine keels over.
Some say in ice.
Hook castigates them all for fools. So does Scrapper, though he's more blunt about it. Bonecrusher just laughs at them.
They barely have time to be castigated, though, because the Autobots attack the Ganymede base. Motormaster is still down and out, Wildrider is barely more than alive from being too close to Breakdown, and Drag Strip has just been put under for surgery.
Breakdown and Dead End are walking wounded. They're not rated for the extreme temperatures outside the base. But Astrotrain is down out there, and they need him flying if anyone is going to get out of this alive.
Dead End knows they're not going to get out alive, but it makes Breakdown happy if they pretend they are.
From what I've tasted of desire,
"For luck," Breakdown says below human hearing, then kisses Dead End.
The Porsche is still reeling when Breakdown dives out from behind cover, vibronic rifle snarling as he sights on the Autobots.
I hold with those who favor fire.
They cut him down in a rain of orange laser blasts. But they focus on him, and Dead End takes off in the direction of Astrotrain.
He knows Breakdown is dead. He knows it, because that is the only thing that could have happened to his gestalt-mate. He knows Breakdown is dead because Wildrider is almost dead, because Motormaster is dying, because Drag Strip is only alive because he intervened.
But if it had to perish twice,
His gestalt-connections call him a liar.
Breakdown is alive.
Breakdown won't be for much longer if he leaves him out there with the Autobots.
I think I know enough of hate
He's supposed to go find Astrotrain. He's supposed to save them all.
They're all dead already.
Except Breakdown isn't.
Except Breakdown will be.
Damn those Autobots.
To say that, for destruction
Dead End checks his rifle. The charge is lower than he would like, but it will be enough.
He knows the terrain here. He knows the Autobots will have to pass through the echoing and cracking little pass before they reach the base proper.
It wouldn't take much to shatter those walls and bury them.
Ice is also great
He doesn't look for Breakdown. He isn't going to draw attention to his gestalt-mate.
Instead he cracks Jazz's visor with a well-placed shot, then takes off like Motormaster is on his tail. The Autobots chase, because they are fools and they will die too.
Just sooner than his brothers will.
And would suffice.
At the end of the pass, he transforms and raises his rifle to his shoulders. He doesn't sight on the charging Autobots, but instead on the walls of the icy pass.
He cannot smile.
That's all right. This doesn't call for smiling.
His finger squeezes the trigger.
-End-
Fandom: Transformers
Characters: Stunticons, half the Constructicons, assorted unnamed Autobots
Prompt: #67, Snow
Word Count: 665 words
Rating: PG
Summary: They are all going to die. Dead End knows this, but in the cold of Ganymede, he finds he can't let Breakdown's warmth extinguish.
Author's Notes: I take Transformers-cartoon-level liberties with Ganymede here. Also, the poem is Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice".
One Hundred Ways to Die
***
Some say the world will end in fire.
"Get up!" Motormaster roars, his face blackened and one optic shattered. He's using his sword to lever himself to his feet, even though Dead End wants to tell him how foolish that is. He is only making himself a target.
But he is Motormaster, and he is angry, and Dead End cannot bring himself to despise the thrill of hope that perhaps Motormaster will be very badly hurt in this encounter.
Drag Strip is at his feet, smoking. Dead End supposes he should do something about that.
The Quintesson war-machine whirrs and chitters as it focuses its heat-beams on Motormaster. His gestalt-leader staggers as one leg explodes into flames.
Dead End kneels and begins to pry open Drag Strip. A Constructicon would have taken his patient to someplace safer, but Constructicons are so optimistic about getting out of life alive. Dead End doesn't see the point.
Wildrider abruptly cackles like a loon over the Stunticon frequency. Then two fast cars, covered in ashes and death, zip out from nowhere, and Breakdown's engine screams.
Dead End can feel his own engine working its way loose.
The Quint war-machine keels over.
Some say in ice.
Hook castigates them all for fools. So does Scrapper, though he's more blunt about it. Bonecrusher just laughs at them.
They barely have time to be castigated, though, because the Autobots attack the Ganymede base. Motormaster is still down and out, Wildrider is barely more than alive from being too close to Breakdown, and Drag Strip has just been put under for surgery.
Breakdown and Dead End are walking wounded. They're not rated for the extreme temperatures outside the base. But Astrotrain is down out there, and they need him flying if anyone is going to get out of this alive.
Dead End knows they're not going to get out alive, but it makes Breakdown happy if they pretend they are.
From what I've tasted of desire,
"For luck," Breakdown says below human hearing, then kisses Dead End.
The Porsche is still reeling when Breakdown dives out from behind cover, vibronic rifle snarling as he sights on the Autobots.
I hold with those who favor fire.
They cut him down in a rain of orange laser blasts. But they focus on him, and Dead End takes off in the direction of Astrotrain.
He knows Breakdown is dead. He knows it, because that is the only thing that could have happened to his gestalt-mate. He knows Breakdown is dead because Wildrider is almost dead, because Motormaster is dying, because Drag Strip is only alive because he intervened.
But if it had to perish twice,
His gestalt-connections call him a liar.
Breakdown is alive.
Breakdown won't be for much longer if he leaves him out there with the Autobots.
I think I know enough of hate
He's supposed to go find Astrotrain. He's supposed to save them all.
They're all dead already.
Except Breakdown isn't.
Except Breakdown will be.
Damn those Autobots.
To say that, for destruction
Dead End checks his rifle. The charge is lower than he would like, but it will be enough.
He knows the terrain here. He knows the Autobots will have to pass through the echoing and cracking little pass before they reach the base proper.
It wouldn't take much to shatter those walls and bury them.
Ice is also great
He doesn't look for Breakdown. He isn't going to draw attention to his gestalt-mate.
Instead he cracks Jazz's visor with a well-placed shot, then takes off like Motormaster is on his tail. The Autobots chase, because they are fools and they will die too.
Just sooner than his brothers will.
And would suffice.
At the end of the pass, he transforms and raises his rifle to his shoulders. He doesn't sight on the charging Autobots, but instead on the walls of the icy pass.
He cannot smile.
That's all right. This doesn't call for smiling.
His finger squeezes the trigger.
-End-