Indoctrination
Dec. 19th, 2010 10:53 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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shadow_vectorTFA: Inamorato AU
Blackout, Barricade, Autobot sparklings
PG
Wordcount: ~1200
Time: 50 minutes
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tf_speedwriting prompt 'once upon a time'
Blackout figured Barricade was on some kind of mission, but he didn’t care. He was happy to play cover (or, you know, whatever it was called and stuff) just to spend time with him. And to be honest, this Park of the Primes place in Iacon was kind of pretty. All sorts of sculpture stuff and exotic things from other planets like plants and crystals and it was actually pretty cool. Kind of like a museum, but outdoors and pretty. And there was a thing called a ‘tea house’ that they were totally going to later that looked really cool!
His hand squeezed at Barricade’s. This was cool. Barricade was cool and he was so happy. “This is awesome,” he murmured, afraid to make too much noise and distract Barricade from whatever he was really here to do.
Barricade’s hand squeezed back. He tilted his head up. “Almost done. Then we can get that tea stuff.”
“Cool!” Blackout’s rotors riffled. He just liked spending time with Barricade; it didn’t have to be about him. Or ‘tea’. Whatever that was.
They rounded a corner made of some blue-silicate leaved plant, that tinkled and clinked in the light breeze, casting little sequins of blue light over everything, and came across a little Autobot school group—a teacher-mech confronting a half-circle of sparklings. Barricade edged away, but Blackout stopped. It looked like they were going to tell a story, and Blackout liked stories!
Two of the sparkling wielded little toy figures of mechs, acting out what she was saying.
“And then the Omega Sentinels!” she said, her voice so cheerful that Barricade twitched.
One of the sparklings took a pair of toys and zoomed them over the cleared area on the ground. “Omegas are unstoppable!” she chirped.
“Oh no they’re not!” the other sparkling said. “Here comes the Decepticon Heavy Brigade!”
The watching sparklings booed and made rude noises.
“That’s right,” said the teacher. “And the Decepticon Heavy Brigade was very, very scary!”
The sparkling turned his toys toward the crowd, making growling sounds.
“Wasn’t the Heavy Brigade,” Blackout murmured. “Just me. Everyone else was dead.” Blackout stepped back. Maybe he didn’t like stories so much. Barricade’s hand tightened in his—Blackout could feel tension thrum through the smaller mech.
“But!” one of the audience called out. “The Decepticons are stupid!”
“That’s right!” said the little mech holding the Blackout doll. He dropped his voice. “I’m stoopit! I’m so dumb I forget how to fly!” He crashed his toy into the girl’s Omegas.
“….I’ve never forgot how to fly,” Blackout said. “That’s not…it’s not right.” He hated parks. He hated sparklings. And teachers. And everything. He hated the blue light dancing from the plant. And he was pretty sure he’d hate tea.
“Autobot propaganda,” Barricade muttered. He looked up. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Can…can we just go home now?” Blackout’s rotors drooped, dragging on the ground. At least at Inamorato they thought he was a hero and stuff. And, and maybe he wasn’t real smart but he tried!
“One klik,” Barricade said, after a moment of studying Blackout’s face. His hand released Blackout’s. He stormed to the group of children, tapping his Decepticon symbol.
“Listen up, teacher lady. This is wrong. Like. On so many levels.” Barricade whirled to the crowd of sparkling. “First off, there was only ONE of us taking on all of your slaggin’ Sentinels. And you know what? He won. Because he's that damn good. Not because he ‘forgot how to fly’.” He glared around the circle. “None of you are even air frames so how fraggin’ dare you even make fun of flying?”
The sparklings quailed.
“And if you knew your math, you’d know how much force it takes to get a mech of that size airborne, much less maneuverable. You Autobot grounders think it’s so easy? So show some respect!”
Blackout inched back until he clattered into another plant thingie, this one with little metal plaques tied to it—some kind of wishing tree. All he was wishing for was to be back in his recharge cube, dying of embarrassment. That’s—that’s how people saw him? Big and dumb?
“And he, the ONE, took out ALL of your Sentinels. And you know what? He did it for the rest of us. Look up ‘sacrifice’ in your slaggin’ lexicons.” Barricade’s four optics blazed so red they cast baleful light on the blue-opticked crowd, before whirling to confront the teacher. “And you! What kind of slaggin’ irresponsible….SLAG is this?! Teaching this kind of propaganda? War’s over, lady. Time for the truth to come out. On both sides. Not turning real honor and heroism and real sacrifice into a…into a slaggin’ JOKE!”
He flicked his wrists and Blackout saw the purple pink of energon blades pop from his wrist tires. “And, little sparklings.” His voice got dangerous and quiet. “Let me tell you something. Blackout’s the nicest, sweetest mech I’ve ever met. I’m not. I’m your worst fraggin’ nightmare. And if I ever hear any of you say one bad thing about him?” He carved an intricate pattern of light with his blades. “Ever.” He glared around the circle until every head had shrunk down onto its neck, nodding. They believed him.
So did Blackout.
With one last glare at the teacher, Barricade stomped out of the circle. He stopped, hesitating, blades snicking back into their housing. He turned back, and snatched the Blackout figure from the numb fingers of the child. “You don’t deserve this,” he snapped. “Blackout IS the Decepticon Heavy Brigade. And he’s worth all of you combined.”
Barricade stomped over to where Blackout was trying his best to hide under the tree. His optics were still tight with fury. “Let’s get that tea.”
“I kind of want to go home,” Blackout said, his voice unsteady.
Barricade’s optics softened, but he shook his head, firmly. “We came here to learn stuff and have fun. You let these idiots ruin that for you and the Autobots have won.” He held up the crude little Blackout figure. “Even they never said you were a coward.”
Blackout’s breath caught, staring at the cloth dolly. “Not a coward,” he mumbled, unsteadily.
“Then let’s show ‘em,” Barricade said, defiant, reaching out his free hand to take Blackout’s again. “Show them how real heroes behave.”
Blackout blinked away something like tears, though at Barricade’s words or the hurt from their ‘history,’ he couldn’t say. But he curled his hand over Barricade’s small talons, and let himself be drawn out from under the shadow of the tree. He could feel the sunlight hit his shoulders, his sonic wave generators with their ancient insignia. “Yeah,” he said. “Heavy Brigade don’t back down from nothin’.”
The edges of Barricade's mouth curled into a sharp smile. “Not even…tea?”
Blackout nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude and relief. Barricade was smart in ways they never taught in books. And he was so glad Barricade was on his side. And suddenly, he thought of what Barricade had spat at that crowd of sparklings. That…that was what Barricade really thought of him. Impressive. Hero. Sacrifice. He didn't care what sparklings thought...if that's what Barricade thought of him. He straightened, rotors flaring. “Not. Even. Tea.”
Blackout, Barricade, Autobot sparklings
PG
Wordcount: ~1200
Time: 50 minutes
For
tf_speedwriting prompt 'once upon a time'Blackout figured Barricade was on some kind of mission, but he didn’t care. He was happy to play cover (or, you know, whatever it was called and stuff) just to spend time with him. And to be honest, this Park of the Primes place in Iacon was kind of pretty. All sorts of sculpture stuff and exotic things from other planets like plants and crystals and it was actually pretty cool. Kind of like a museum, but outdoors and pretty. And there was a thing called a ‘tea house’ that they were totally going to later that looked really cool!
His hand squeezed at Barricade’s. This was cool. Barricade was cool and he was so happy. “This is awesome,” he murmured, afraid to make too much noise and distract Barricade from whatever he was really here to do.
Barricade’s hand squeezed back. He tilted his head up. “Almost done. Then we can get that tea stuff.”
“Cool!” Blackout’s rotors riffled. He just liked spending time with Barricade; it didn’t have to be about him. Or ‘tea’. Whatever that was.
They rounded a corner made of some blue-silicate leaved plant, that tinkled and clinked in the light breeze, casting little sequins of blue light over everything, and came across a little Autobot school group—a teacher-mech confronting a half-circle of sparklings. Barricade edged away, but Blackout stopped. It looked like they were going to tell a story, and Blackout liked stories!
Two of the sparkling wielded little toy figures of mechs, acting out what she was saying.
“And then the Omega Sentinels!” she said, her voice so cheerful that Barricade twitched.
One of the sparklings took a pair of toys and zoomed them over the cleared area on the ground. “Omegas are unstoppable!” she chirped.
“Oh no they’re not!” the other sparkling said. “Here comes the Decepticon Heavy Brigade!”
The watching sparklings booed and made rude noises.
“That’s right,” said the teacher. “And the Decepticon Heavy Brigade was very, very scary!”
The sparkling turned his toys toward the crowd, making growling sounds.
“Wasn’t the Heavy Brigade,” Blackout murmured. “Just me. Everyone else was dead.” Blackout stepped back. Maybe he didn’t like stories so much. Barricade’s hand tightened in his—Blackout could feel tension thrum through the smaller mech.
“But!” one of the audience called out. “The Decepticons are stupid!”
“That’s right!” said the little mech holding the Blackout doll. He dropped his voice. “I’m stoopit! I’m so dumb I forget how to fly!” He crashed his toy into the girl’s Omegas.
“….I’ve never forgot how to fly,” Blackout said. “That’s not…it’s not right.” He hated parks. He hated sparklings. And teachers. And everything. He hated the blue light dancing from the plant. And he was pretty sure he’d hate tea.
“Autobot propaganda,” Barricade muttered. He looked up. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Can…can we just go home now?” Blackout’s rotors drooped, dragging on the ground. At least at Inamorato they thought he was a hero and stuff. And, and maybe he wasn’t real smart but he tried!
“One klik,” Barricade said, after a moment of studying Blackout’s face. His hand released Blackout’s. He stormed to the group of children, tapping his Decepticon symbol.
“Listen up, teacher lady. This is wrong. Like. On so many levels.” Barricade whirled to the crowd of sparkling. “First off, there was only ONE of us taking on all of your slaggin’ Sentinels. And you know what? He won. Because he's that damn good. Not because he ‘forgot how to fly’.” He glared around the circle. “None of you are even air frames so how fraggin’ dare you even make fun of flying?”
The sparklings quailed.
“And if you knew your math, you’d know how much force it takes to get a mech of that size airborne, much less maneuverable. You Autobot grounders think it’s so easy? So show some respect!”
Blackout inched back until he clattered into another plant thingie, this one with little metal plaques tied to it—some kind of wishing tree. All he was wishing for was to be back in his recharge cube, dying of embarrassment. That’s—that’s how people saw him? Big and dumb?
“And he, the ONE, took out ALL of your Sentinels. And you know what? He did it for the rest of us. Look up ‘sacrifice’ in your slaggin’ lexicons.” Barricade’s four optics blazed so red they cast baleful light on the blue-opticked crowd, before whirling to confront the teacher. “And you! What kind of slaggin’ irresponsible….SLAG is this?! Teaching this kind of propaganda? War’s over, lady. Time for the truth to come out. On both sides. Not turning real honor and heroism and real sacrifice into a…into a slaggin’ JOKE!”
He flicked his wrists and Blackout saw the purple pink of energon blades pop from his wrist tires. “And, little sparklings.” His voice got dangerous and quiet. “Let me tell you something. Blackout’s the nicest, sweetest mech I’ve ever met. I’m not. I’m your worst fraggin’ nightmare. And if I ever hear any of you say one bad thing about him?” He carved an intricate pattern of light with his blades. “Ever.” He glared around the circle until every head had shrunk down onto its neck, nodding. They believed him.
So did Blackout.
With one last glare at the teacher, Barricade stomped out of the circle. He stopped, hesitating, blades snicking back into their housing. He turned back, and snatched the Blackout figure from the numb fingers of the child. “You don’t deserve this,” he snapped. “Blackout IS the Decepticon Heavy Brigade. And he’s worth all of you combined.”
Barricade stomped over to where Blackout was trying his best to hide under the tree. His optics were still tight with fury. “Let’s get that tea.”
“I kind of want to go home,” Blackout said, his voice unsteady.
Barricade’s optics softened, but he shook his head, firmly. “We came here to learn stuff and have fun. You let these idiots ruin that for you and the Autobots have won.” He held up the crude little Blackout figure. “Even they never said you were a coward.”
Blackout’s breath caught, staring at the cloth dolly. “Not a coward,” he mumbled, unsteadily.
“Then let’s show ‘em,” Barricade said, defiant, reaching out his free hand to take Blackout’s again. “Show them how real heroes behave.”
Blackout blinked away something like tears, though at Barricade’s words or the hurt from their ‘history,’ he couldn’t say. But he curled his hand over Barricade’s small talons, and let himself be drawn out from under the shadow of the tree. He could feel the sunlight hit his shoulders, his sonic wave generators with their ancient insignia. “Yeah,” he said. “Heavy Brigade don’t back down from nothin’.”
The edges of Barricade's mouth curled into a sharp smile. “Not even…tea?”
Blackout nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude and relief. Barricade was smart in ways they never taught in books. And he was so glad Barricade was on his side. And suddenly, he thought of what Barricade had spat at that crowd of sparklings. That…that was what Barricade really thought of him. Impressive. Hero. Sacrifice. He didn't care what sparklings thought...if that's what Barricade thought of him. He straightened, rotors flaring. “Not. Even. Tea.”
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no subject
Date: 2010-12-20 03:28 am (UTC)And brats get lesson in being mindful of who could be around before they play those kind of games!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-21 02:54 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!