shadow_vector | Weapons chasing weapons

PG
IDW post Stormbringer obviously
Banzaitron, Sixshot
tformers100 Cybertron: machine

“It's dangerous,” Banzaitron said, optics measuring.

Sixshot shrugged. “If it weren't, you wouldn't need me for it.”

Well, true enough, Banzaitron thought. “More than usual,” he said, smoothly. “And not the way you usually think. Or like.” Or at least used to like. Sixshot was going through another of his...pettish little slumps. Moody and unstable, all three of these Phase Sixers. Thank Primus there'd only ever been the three or Banzaitron would probably have torn his face off in frustration.

Sixshot just...stared at him. Charming. Really these Phase Sixers were a bit short on interpersonal skills. Banzaitron sighed. “Thunderhead Pass?”

Sixshot's look gave away nothing. Which, Banzaitron decided, meant he knew nothing. Play dumb, Sixshot, and this is what you get. “Thunderwing. A Decepticon scientist. Did a few...unusual experiments and, well, kind of made Cybertron uninhabitable.”

Sixshot grunted.

Banzaitron rolled his optics, since the whole 'frustrated sigh' seemed to have no effect. You'd think Sixshot would at least be jealous. You know. Competition in the whole 'world destroying' schtick? “Bludgeon had this bright idea to try to reanimate Thunderwing, except as some sort of, well, remote control.”

Sixshot growled. Right. He'd had his own...issues with being brain-puppet, in the Dead Universe, hadn't he. Huh. Well, Banzaitron knew it wouldn't make Sixshot, you know, sympathetic toward Thunderwing. Sixshot was delightfully incapable of feelings.

“It took the combined forces of us with the Autobots to take Thunderwing down.”

Sixshot gave a snort. Well, wasn't he Mr Non Verbal Communication Skills today? “What you need me for.”

Awwww, he almost sounded...disappointed. Like he was upset that he missed out. Banzaitron filed that away in 'adorable and useful information to hold against Sixshot later'. “Well, Thunderwing's a bad idea, but what we're really interested in is the Axis Cradle.”

“You want the controlling device. To control other mechs.”

Well, yes. And Banzaitron could see, now, how this...might be a problem for Sixshot. “We wouldn't use it on you,” he said. “That would be beyond ironic to have you retrieve something and then use it against you.”

“Ironic. Or Decepticon.”

Banzaitron gave Sixshot a few more points for intelligence than he'd previously rated. And maybe one for sense of humor. Maybe. “My guarantee.”

“Isn't worth much.” Sixshot shifted, balling and unballing his fists, as though standing for this long without hurting something was somehow physically uncomfortable for him. “If you're lying, it doesn't matter: still a fraggin' zombie.”

Banzaitron tolerated a lot from his mechs. Insolence, misbehaviors, a thousand things he pretended not to see. But that was a challenge to his honor. And Banzaitron, like every mech, had one thing he held dear, one thing easily bruised. “You'd be easier to work with,” he snapped. “This is your mission. These are your orders. This is not a party, and I am not asking for your RSVP.” His optics glowed hot in the deep pits of their sockets.

Sixshot picked up the datapad. “Axis Cradle,” he said, scrolling through the details—dimensions, mass, location. “Doesn't look dangerous.”

“The danger's from the location. Radiation. Guardian Centurions with...intriguing programming.”

Sixshot tabbed to the 'opposing force' specs. He shrugged. “Can handle them.”

“Thunderwing,” Banzaitron said, “Is not to be touched.”

Sixshot shrugged. Great. Really showing a model of cooperation here. Then again, Banzaitron, the only reason you picked him is that of the three...he's the most stable. Yeah, believe that or not.

“Secondary objective is to retrieve one of the Centurions' programming interfaces.” From the field reports, they seemed...interesting. And he'd heard Autobots had done a little reprogramming, which meant it was possible. And would give him access to their programming protocols. “Do you need to know what one looks like?” he asked, poison-sweet.

Sixshot glowered. “Just bring you a head. Good enough.”

Well, it would be. “Keep it simple!” Banzaitron chirped. Frag. Idiots. That's who he had to work with: idiots.

Sixshot didn't move, not even a twitch of the optics.

Power playing or really just that empty? So hard to tell sometimes. “Right. Got your objectives. Any questions?”

“No.” Sixshot could at least sense that he was being dismissed. Probably, Banzaitron thought, not too far removed from a drone himself. Living weapon, my skirted aft. Sixshot pushed to his feet.

“Well then, Sixshot. I'll see you on the far side.” Banzaitron slipped the input rod out of the datapad, handing it to him. Just in case Sixshot wanted to study the specs of what he was up against. Who fraggin' knew with this sort? He might like to be 'surprised' or something. “And good luck,” he said, to Sixshot's back.

“Luck,” Sixshot echoed, turning over one shoulder, optics blazing as though the word were an insult. “Not much use for it.”