Twisted Tales: Shorty and the Beast (Pt 12)
Title: Twisted Tales: Shorty and the Beast (Part 12 - And there's something truly terrible inside)
Rating: G
Verse: G1ish?
Character: Cliffjumper, Prowl, Jazz
Warnings: AU. Crack.
Summary: Once-upon-a-times and might-have-beens paint a story most fair. A beauty stalks a tower in a guise most foul, and only one bot has optics to see past the grisly exterior.
Part 1 Part 6 Part 11
Part 2 Part 7
Part 3 Part 8
Part 4 Part 9
Part 5 Part 10
The map had been easy enough to follow, although the road itself was slagged. Still, he poured on the speed, and made the Tower gates in good time. He barreled on through them, paying scant attention as they banged shut behind him, and continued on right up to the huge front doors, at which point he skidded to a stop, transforming as he went. He raised a fist to bang on the door, but to his surprise, it opened before he made contact.
Cliffjumper willfully suppressed the urge to draw one of his guns and let his still clenched fist drop to his side as he warily walked inside. “Smokey?” The door quietly snicked shut behind him, and he whirled around, a gun in his hand ready to fire but aimed low.
“There is little point to leaving the door open and letting the outside in,” a voice said, clipped and professional, and Cliffjumper spun back around, his gun still cocked. “Kindly put your weapon away; it is unnecessary.”
“Like the Pit it’s not,” Cliffjumper retorted. “Where the frag are you?”
“Revealing my position to you while you are armed and agitated would be illogical,” the voice claimed, which…okay, yeah, it did kind of make sense.
“No funny business,” Cliffjumper warned, and then slowly subspaced his gun.
“Indeed,” the voice said calmly. “If you would, please direct your attention to the table 2 meters forward and half a meter left from your position.”
Still wary, Cliffjumper stalked forward and left as directed, his optics tracking the room for anything suspicious. Upon reaching the table, he realized there was a small toy figure painted white with black accents balanced in a standing position. Its build was awfully similar to Smokescreen’s, with perfectly proportioned doorwings arching out from its back.
“Hello,” the toy said politely. “I am the Seneschal of this Tower; my designation is Prowl.”
Cliffjumper gaped at it briefly. Then he closed his mouth and cycled a deep draught of air through his intakes. “Right. A talking toy. Why not?”
The toy - Prowl - regarded him serenely. “You would be Cliffjumper, I gather.”
The urge to have the comforting weight of his cannon - or at least one of his guns - in his hands was very great. “How do you know that?”
“Smokescreen had spoken of two brothers; given the basic data he revealed to us about them, it was more likely that if only one were to arrive, it would be the elder of the two.” Prowl said. “It was only logical.”
“Where is my brother,” Cliffjumper said flatly.
“Whoa,” another voice said, “ didn't know you could make bots forget how to use question marks, Prowler. Heya, ‘Jumper. Glad you made it here!”
A brief flicker of something flashed through Prowl’s tiny face, too quickly for Cliffjumper to grasp it. “My counterpart, Jazz.” Prowl explained, gesturing to another black and white toy that was clambering up on to the table.
“You!”
‘Jazz’ grinned and waved. “Me! You got here fast. Guess the map was okay?”
“What the slag is the ‘Beast of the Forest’, then? A house cat?” Cliffjumper blurted.
“That,” another voice said icily from the doorway to the inner chambers, “would be me.”
On to Part 13!
Rating: G
Verse: G1ish?
Character: Cliffjumper, Prowl, Jazz
Warnings: AU. Crack.
Summary: Once-upon-a-times and might-have-beens paint a story most fair. A beauty stalks a tower in a guise most foul, and only one bot has optics to see past the grisly exterior.
Part 1 Part 6 Part 11
Part 2 Part 7
Part 3 Part 8
Part 4 Part 9
Part 5 Part 10
The map had been easy enough to follow, although the road itself was slagged. Still, he poured on the speed, and made the Tower gates in good time. He barreled on through them, paying scant attention as they banged shut behind him, and continued on right up to the huge front doors, at which point he skidded to a stop, transforming as he went. He raised a fist to bang on the door, but to his surprise, it opened before he made contact.
Cliffjumper willfully suppressed the urge to draw one of his guns and let his still clenched fist drop to his side as he warily walked inside. “Smokey?” The door quietly snicked shut behind him, and he whirled around, a gun in his hand ready to fire but aimed low.
“There is little point to leaving the door open and letting the outside in,” a voice said, clipped and professional, and Cliffjumper spun back around, his gun still cocked. “Kindly put your weapon away; it is unnecessary.”
“Like the Pit it’s not,” Cliffjumper retorted. “Where the frag are you?”
“Revealing my position to you while you are armed and agitated would be illogical,” the voice claimed, which…okay, yeah, it did kind of make sense.
“No funny business,” Cliffjumper warned, and then slowly subspaced his gun.
“Indeed,” the voice said calmly. “If you would, please direct your attention to the table 2 meters forward and half a meter left from your position.”
Still wary, Cliffjumper stalked forward and left as directed, his optics tracking the room for anything suspicious. Upon reaching the table, he realized there was a small toy figure painted white with black accents balanced in a standing position. Its build was awfully similar to Smokescreen’s, with perfectly proportioned doorwings arching out from its back.
“Hello,” the toy said politely. “I am the Seneschal of this Tower; my designation is Prowl.”
Cliffjumper gaped at it briefly. Then he closed his mouth and cycled a deep draught of air through his intakes. “Right. A talking toy. Why not?”
The toy - Prowl - regarded him serenely. “You would be Cliffjumper, I gather.”
The urge to have the comforting weight of his cannon - or at least one of his guns - in his hands was very great. “How do you know that?”
“Smokescreen had spoken of two brothers; given the basic data he revealed to us about them, it was more likely that if only one were to arrive, it would be the elder of the two.” Prowl said. “It was only logical.”
“Where is my brother,” Cliffjumper said flatly.
“Whoa,” another voice said, “ didn't know you could make bots forget how to use question marks, Prowler. Heya, ‘Jumper. Glad you made it here!”
A brief flicker of something flashed through Prowl’s tiny face, too quickly for Cliffjumper to grasp it. “My counterpart, Jazz.” Prowl explained, gesturing to another black and white toy that was clambering up on to the table.
“You!”
‘Jazz’ grinned and waved. “Me! You got here fast. Guess the map was okay?”
“What the slag is the ‘Beast of the Forest’, then? A house cat?” Cliffjumper blurted.
“That,” another voice said icily from the doorway to the inner chambers, “would be me.”
On to Part 13!