Protectobot Snippets #8
It's lovely cold and crispy where I am! Faaaaaaaall, whee! And the trees are all turning yellow and red and orange. I've been trying to get pictures, but I literally haven't had time to snap a photo at work - all these pesky visitors, coming to my park and visiting all the time, lol. We finally, after four years, got new uniform shirts for work. I ordered two dark green, two sage, one navy blue - nice, nature-ee colors, yes? I got five GLORIOUS BRIGHT CHERRY RED t-shirts - I'm totally camouflaged if I want to hang out in the sugar maples! They're re-ordering for me - I wasn't the only mix up, but by far the most spectacular ;D
Four more snippets! Um...you know, the usual *waves arms vaguely* Some Cybertronian cussin' in the last one - if you have sparklings about you might want to cover their audios!
1.
“How soon until Ratchet can get here?” First Aid asked, avoiding Hot Spot’s question for the moment as he clamped yet another swiftly leaking line in Silverbolt’s chest. He twitched minutely but made no sound as something sparked and sent jolts of electricity up his arm.
“No time soon,” Hot Spot answered, changing the angle of his protective crouch over them both as a new rain of debris showered down. Next to him Blades kept up a steady barrage of laser fire, guarding the prone forms of the other four Aerialbots. Only stunned, but they were going to be out of commission for some time yet. “Without Superion…we’re going to be cut off indefinitely.”
“Then the answer is yes,” First Aid said. Hot Spot winced as his brother yanked several wires out of his own arm and began delicately fusing them to Silverbolt’s spark chamber. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
2.
“Arms versus legs?” Streetwise asked. “Or left versus right?”
“Arms versus legs,” Fireflight said emphatically. “I want Blades on my team.”
“You’re both right arms, silly.” Air Raid lightly bopped his brother on the back of his helm, chuckling. “You’re always on the same team.”
3.
“Are you going to hunt her?” Groove asked, voice pitched soft so as not to carry beyond the overhang of piping and conduit that concealed them. His expression was somewhat worried, but there was no judgment in the question.
Mirage raised his optic ridges in startlement. “No!” The turbofox below them stilled for a moment in her grooming, optics gleaming brighter before she returned to nibbling delicately at her tail segments. Beside her the two pups continued to recharge peacefully, undisturbed. “No,” Mirage continued more softly, “that was a long time ago, back when turbofoxes were everywhere.”
“But you used to?” First Aid’s voice held a note of puzzled wonder, but no more judgment than Groove’s had. Mirage nodded slowly, wondering, as he looked at the two sparklings, how he could possibly begin to explain. Ritual and tradition, tangled shifting network of status and alliances and through it all the spark-pounding thrill of being free and alive, the belling resonant calls of the sensor-hounds as they picked up the scent, the flash of pride in his creator's optics when he returned home with his first kill. None of it mattered anymore. Destroyed forever, in less than an optic blink, less than a vorn, buried and forgotten in the ruins of the Towers.
Mirage returned his gaze to the scene in front of him, letting the memories, emotions long forgotten well up as they would. The two Protectobots turned to watch with him, leaning easily on one another, patient and still as the turbofox stretched and nudged her kits into a more pleasing arrangement before curling up nearby.
“I loved the hunt,” he said at last, softly, into the stillness. “It was just…what we did, what everyone did. To some it was just a way to show off, or an empty tradition, but to me it was…beautiful, I suppose, is the best word.” First Aid and Groove tilted their helms in his direction, listening. “I learned to be swift, and stealthy, and wise, hunting turbofox. I’m alive today because of what they taught me. The turbofoxes were already swift and stealthy and wise, but I’d like to think that some of them grew even more so, being hunted. That a few may still be alive today, because of what they learned from me in return.”
The Protectobots were quiet, but Mirage wondered, by the subtle changes in their expressions, whether they were mulling things over through the gestalt bond.
As the two youngsters continued to regard him with something halfway between concern for him and concern for the turbofox, he realized that they would not think ill of him, even if they didn’t quite understand. The thought warmed him, though he rather suspected if he had expressed a sudden wish to take up hunting again, Groove would have sat on him and First Aid would be even now tumbling down the embankment to make good the turbofoxes’ escape.
“We’re glad you’re alive,” Groove said after awhile, and First Aid nodded agreement. “We’re sorry you lost something you loved.”
“It is a gift you’ve given me, to see one again.” Mirage felt his lips curve in a smile. It was a good feeling. “You brought me here, not knowing if I was going to hunt her or not?”
“We asked Hound first,” First Aid admitted, glancing up at him with his own quick shy smile. “He said to trust you.”
“He did, did he,” Mirage murmured.
Simple friendship. It had been a rare thing, in his earlier life. It rang through him now like the clear ringing calls of the sensor-hounds from so long ago, asking nothing, calling him to follow if he wished, joyful if he did. This way, run with me, follow me, trust me, I will not lead you wrong.
Below them the turbofox slit open one optic shutter, just barely enough to let a glimmer of green optic light escape. Clever 'fox, she knew full well they were there. They backed away quietly, left her to her rest. Groove and Mirage raced on the way back, looping in great circles around First Aid as he trundled along, laughing to see them go. So many things lost, Mirage thought, as he let Groove pass him for a moment only to surprise him with a burst of speed. Groove whooped in admiration as Mirage shot by. So many things gained.
4.
"Aid? Are you guys still doing ok down there?" Ironhide called down the opening to the tunnel where the refugees and wounded had taken shelter from the fighting. He could just barely make out the glow of First Aid’s visor in the gloom below, but nothing more.
"We're ok, Ironhide," First Aid called back. There was something in his voice, muffled as it was by the distance. Something crisp, almost...impatient. It made Ironhide pause, double check.
"Are you sure?"
"Fraggit, Ironhide, I'm sure." Aid's voice was certainly clear enough now, echoing slightly as it rose from the tunnel. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop questioning me? Now get back out there and do your slagging job like you're supposed to!"
Trailbreaker, who had been standing close enough to overhear, froze in utter astonishment. As Ironhide's optics narrowed, Trailbreaker backed away slightly, keeping a nervous eye on those cannons. They remained powered down, however, as the weapons specialist leaned back over the tunnel. "Go stick your head in Starscream's turbines for all I care, you ungrateful offspring of an underpowered joystick. See if I ever check up on you again!"
"Kiss my blowtorch, Quintesson face!"
"You can take your blowtorch and stick it in your hard drive, exhaust breath!"
Trailbreaker choked, caught somewhere between a gasp and hysterical laughter. Quintesson face. Sweet Primus. Kiss my blowtorch! How did the kid even know language like that? He drew air through his intakes, ready to demand why everyone around him had suddenly glitched their processors, but Ironhide quickly signaled for silence and motioned to fall back.
"Ironhide....what, in the name of-" Trailbreaker started once Ironhide paused, but got no further as the other mech put a hand on his shoulder.
"I need you to go find Jazz or Prowl," he said, keeping his voice low. "Don't try comm signals, they're probably being tapped. Tell them the refugees have been infiltrated, and are being held under duress in the north tunnel with First Aid and the rest of the Protectobots. We need reinforcements."
Trailbreaker gaped at him. "But...so...oh! But..."
"Trailbreaker, go!" Ironhide growled, giving him a shove. Trailbreaker shook himself, nodded sharply, and transformed, taking off at his top speed.
"Hang in there, kiddos," Ironhide murmured to himself, turning worried optics over to the opening of the tunnel. "Help is on the way."
.
Four more snippets! Um...you know, the usual *waves arms vaguely* Some Cybertronian cussin' in the last one - if you have sparklings about you might want to cover their audios!
1.
“How soon until Ratchet can get here?” First Aid asked, avoiding Hot Spot’s question for the moment as he clamped yet another swiftly leaking line in Silverbolt’s chest. He twitched minutely but made no sound as something sparked and sent jolts of electricity up his arm.
“No time soon,” Hot Spot answered, changing the angle of his protective crouch over them both as a new rain of debris showered down. Next to him Blades kept up a steady barrage of laser fire, guarding the prone forms of the other four Aerialbots. Only stunned, but they were going to be out of commission for some time yet. “Without Superion…we’re going to be cut off indefinitely.”
“Then the answer is yes,” First Aid said. Hot Spot winced as his brother yanked several wires out of his own arm and began delicately fusing them to Silverbolt’s spark chamber. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
2.
“Arms versus legs?” Streetwise asked. “Or left versus right?”
“Arms versus legs,” Fireflight said emphatically. “I want Blades on my team.”
“You’re both right arms, silly.” Air Raid lightly bopped his brother on the back of his helm, chuckling. “You’re always on the same team.”
3.
“Are you going to hunt her?” Groove asked, voice pitched soft so as not to carry beyond the overhang of piping and conduit that concealed them. His expression was somewhat worried, but there was no judgment in the question.
Mirage raised his optic ridges in startlement. “No!” The turbofox below them stilled for a moment in her grooming, optics gleaming brighter before she returned to nibbling delicately at her tail segments. Beside her the two pups continued to recharge peacefully, undisturbed. “No,” Mirage continued more softly, “that was a long time ago, back when turbofoxes were everywhere.”
“But you used to?” First Aid’s voice held a note of puzzled wonder, but no more judgment than Groove’s had. Mirage nodded slowly, wondering, as he looked at the two sparklings, how he could possibly begin to explain. Ritual and tradition, tangled shifting network of status and alliances and through it all the spark-pounding thrill of being free and alive, the belling resonant calls of the sensor-hounds as they picked up the scent, the flash of pride in his creator's optics when he returned home with his first kill. None of it mattered anymore. Destroyed forever, in less than an optic blink, less than a vorn, buried and forgotten in the ruins of the Towers.
Mirage returned his gaze to the scene in front of him, letting the memories, emotions long forgotten well up as they would. The two Protectobots turned to watch with him, leaning easily on one another, patient and still as the turbofox stretched and nudged her kits into a more pleasing arrangement before curling up nearby.
“I loved the hunt,” he said at last, softly, into the stillness. “It was just…what we did, what everyone did. To some it was just a way to show off, or an empty tradition, but to me it was…beautiful, I suppose, is the best word.” First Aid and Groove tilted their helms in his direction, listening. “I learned to be swift, and stealthy, and wise, hunting turbofox. I’m alive today because of what they taught me. The turbofoxes were already swift and stealthy and wise, but I’d like to think that some of them grew even more so, being hunted. That a few may still be alive today, because of what they learned from me in return.”
The Protectobots were quiet, but Mirage wondered, by the subtle changes in their expressions, whether they were mulling things over through the gestalt bond.
As the two youngsters continued to regard him with something halfway between concern for him and concern for the turbofox, he realized that they would not think ill of him, even if they didn’t quite understand. The thought warmed him, though he rather suspected if he had expressed a sudden wish to take up hunting again, Groove would have sat on him and First Aid would be even now tumbling down the embankment to make good the turbofoxes’ escape.
“We’re glad you’re alive,” Groove said after awhile, and First Aid nodded agreement. “We’re sorry you lost something you loved.”
“It is a gift you’ve given me, to see one again.” Mirage felt his lips curve in a smile. It was a good feeling. “You brought me here, not knowing if I was going to hunt her or not?”
“We asked Hound first,” First Aid admitted, glancing up at him with his own quick shy smile. “He said to trust you.”
“He did, did he,” Mirage murmured.
Simple friendship. It had been a rare thing, in his earlier life. It rang through him now like the clear ringing calls of the sensor-hounds from so long ago, asking nothing, calling him to follow if he wished, joyful if he did. This way, run with me, follow me, trust me, I will not lead you wrong.
Below them the turbofox slit open one optic shutter, just barely enough to let a glimmer of green optic light escape. Clever 'fox, she knew full well they were there. They backed away quietly, left her to her rest. Groove and Mirage raced on the way back, looping in great circles around First Aid as he trundled along, laughing to see them go. So many things lost, Mirage thought, as he let Groove pass him for a moment only to surprise him with a burst of speed. Groove whooped in admiration as Mirage shot by. So many things gained.
4.
"Aid? Are you guys still doing ok down there?" Ironhide called down the opening to the tunnel where the refugees and wounded had taken shelter from the fighting. He could just barely make out the glow of First Aid’s visor in the gloom below, but nothing more.
"We're ok, Ironhide," First Aid called back. There was something in his voice, muffled as it was by the distance. Something crisp, almost...impatient. It made Ironhide pause, double check.
"Are you sure?"
"Fraggit, Ironhide, I'm sure." Aid's voice was certainly clear enough now, echoing slightly as it rose from the tunnel. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop questioning me? Now get back out there and do your slagging job like you're supposed to!"
Trailbreaker, who had been standing close enough to overhear, froze in utter astonishment. As Ironhide's optics narrowed, Trailbreaker backed away slightly, keeping a nervous eye on those cannons. They remained powered down, however, as the weapons specialist leaned back over the tunnel. "Go stick your head in Starscream's turbines for all I care, you ungrateful offspring of an underpowered joystick. See if I ever check up on you again!"
"Kiss my blowtorch, Quintesson face!"
"You can take your blowtorch and stick it in your hard drive, exhaust breath!"
Trailbreaker choked, caught somewhere between a gasp and hysterical laughter. Quintesson face. Sweet Primus. Kiss my blowtorch! How did the kid even know language like that? He drew air through his intakes, ready to demand why everyone around him had suddenly glitched their processors, but Ironhide quickly signaled for silence and motioned to fall back.
"Ironhide....what, in the name of-" Trailbreaker started once Ironhide paused, but got no further as the other mech put a hand on his shoulder.
"I need you to go find Jazz or Prowl," he said, keeping his voice low. "Don't try comm signals, they're probably being tapped. Tell them the refugees have been infiltrated, and are being held under duress in the north tunnel with First Aid and the rest of the Protectobots. We need reinforcements."
Trailbreaker gaped at him. "But...so...oh! But..."
"Trailbreaker, go!" Ironhide growled, giving him a shove. Trailbreaker shook himself, nodded sharply, and transformed, taking off at his top speed.
"Hang in there, kiddos," Ironhide murmured to himself, turning worried optics over to the opening of the tunnel. "Help is on the way."
.