[identity profile] niyazi-a.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] shadow_vector
PG
IDW/G1 Forlorn Hope AU
Terrorcons
mostly crack.

ch 1: Forlorn Hope
ch 2: Relapse
ch 3: Transgression
ch 4: First
ch 5: Rescue
ch 6: Half Truths and Shadows
ch 7: Coping Mechanism
ch 8: Kiss

[livejournal.com profile] requiem_revista  said there should be a moment where the Terrorcons decide to make this plan. So...here it is? So, chronologically this fits *before* the thing I posted yesterday.

 

“SOOOOOO?”  Oh it wasn’t that they’d been staking out Hun-Grr’s recharge quarters at all. Except, of course, they were.  Hun-Grr had been pretty incoherent and a bit vague on the details about what had happened with Sixshot, but they were determined to get answers. 

“What are you looking at?” Hun-Grr snapped, reflexively. Frag his team was ugly.  Like…seriously ugly.  Not that he thought that he was a handsome hunk of machinery—he had more important things to think about. Like, well, food.  But still. These mechs were homely. No wonder Sixshot had chosen him.

Wait. That didn’t sound right.  Sixshot chose him because he was the best.  And, maybe, the hottest. 

Huh. That didn’t work either. Okay. Sixshot had chosen him—who cares why?  He had interfaced with Sixshot and they hadn’t—and that was what mattered. 

“You tell us,” Cutthroat said.  “What are we looking at?”

“I’m looking at your interface hatch!” Blot said, bouncing on his heels.

Right. We’d have to have that ‘rhetorical question’ conversation again, wouldn’t we? But until then, Hun-Grr shifted his elbow to cover his hatch.  “Well, stop.”

Rippersnapper leaned against the wall. “Okay, Hun-Grr.  We’ll stop looking as soon as you start talking.”

“Talking about what? There’s nothing to talk about.” Right? That sounded commander-y, didn’t it? Was commander-y a real word?  Who cares. “Now get out of my way. I’m hungry.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Sinnertwin snickered,  managing to slip ahead of Hun-Grr, blocking his way to the stores. “No food until you spill.”

“Nothing to spill,” Hun-Grr snapped. 

“Could spill how you broke my sharkticon,” Cutthroat said, joining the blockade.  “You know, for starters."

Huh. Well, Hun-Grr didn’t remember that happening.  Oh, he remembered that it broke, but everything around it was sort of a hazy blur. A delicious, tingly, hazy blur. With a  broken sharkticon.

“I think they were interfacing!”

Uhhh, thanks, Blot?  “Yes,” Hun-Grr said, stiffly. “And that sort of thing is normally, you know, private. Meaning you don’t talk about it, and it’s respected as something that is private.”

“Well if that’s how you wanted it,” Sinnertwin said, “Maybe you should have been a little more, you know, quiet about it?”

“And not broken my sharkticon!” Cutthroat howled. “You don’t know what I had to do to get that thing!”

Wow. Let it go, Cutthroat. Really. Just a fraggin’ sculpture.  “Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop!” 

“Aren’t you the one saying we’re a team? Well…teams share.”  Rippersnapper gave a smug chortle.

“Look,” Hun-Grr said, trying to summon a glare. “We interfaced.  End of story. Now I am SERIOUSLY hungry.”

“Eighteen times take a lot out of you?” Sinnertwin giggled.

Hun-Grr froze. Well, Terrorcons had never been known for tact and/or manners.  “Yes,” he said. “A lot. And I am hungry. And when I’m hungry, I get cranky. And when I get cranky, someone,” he glared at Sinnertwin, “Gets put on ‘clean up after Blot’ duty.”

Sinnertwin blinked, raising his hands in surrender. “Hey, we’re just curious, you know.  Sixshot?” 

A collective purr.  One thing they did all agree on was: Sixshot = scrumptious. Even Hun-Grr agreed with that. 

“Yeah, well.” 

Rippersnapper held out an energon treat. “So,” he said, dangling it like bait, “that’s what he took you back there for?”

Hun-Grr tried to glare at Rippersnapper, but his optics were glued to the treat.  Frag he was hungry.  “Yeah.”  His hand twitched to snatch at the dangling treat. 

“So?”

“So?” Hun-Grr snatched the treat. 

“What’s he like?” “How’d he start?” “Is he any good?” “Did you see his face?” “Is he a good kisser?”  “Does he cuddle?”

Hun-Grr blinked at the wall of questions, buying time by chomping on the treat.  Which somehow only made him hungrier.  “Dunno.”  He felt a little shy, but then he realized…they were actually a bit jealous.  Ha.  He straightened up. “We went in there and he asked—well, you know, however much he really asks anything—but he asked if I’d interfaced before and I said yeah and then he pretty much threw me on the berth and…umm…went at it.”

Cutthroat purred, but Blot made a whine. “That’s not very romantic.” 

“Romantic?” Sinnertwin looked at Blot as though he were even more disgusting than usual.  “Sixshot. Romantic.” 

Hun-Grr nodded. It did sound absurd. And weird. And wrong. “Yeah, well, he had needs.” 

“Yeah, we heard,” Rippersnapper said.  “Apparently at least 18 needs.” 

“So he’s pretty straightforward.  Vanilla?”  Cutthroat seemed a bit...schemey.

Hun-Grr shrugged. He hadn’t really analyzed it. You know. A bit busy getting ‘faced and all.  “He, uh, doesn’t need fancy tricks.”

A pause, as the Terrorcons nodded. Yes, of course. That made sense. Sixshot didn’t need fancy techniques.  Frag, half of them were heating up just thinking about it.

“I want some,” Sinnertwin muttered. “Not fraggin’ fair.”

“HEY!” Cutthroat said. “You think he’ll come back?”

Hun-Grr growled.  “Seriously. Will you forget about your fraggin’ sharkticon? I’ll get you a new one!” 

Cutthroat cocked his head. “Was talking about getting some of that for myself.  You know.  Sixshot. Sex. Rowrf.”

“Sexshot!” Blot chirped.   Holy frag, sometimes Blot needed to be killed.  And the only reason no one had done it was no one wanted to get near the Blot Stink.

“NONETHELESS,” Rippersnapper said, trying to stab Blot with his optics. “It’s a thought.  You know.  Lure him back  here, and maybe it’ll happen again.”

“Unnnnh. Could use some recovery time,” Hun-Grr said.  Like, ow. Sexsho—dammit, Blot! SIXshot was fraggin’ mindblowing in the berth, but, yeah.  A bit rough.  He pushed past the others, grabbing for stores.

“Hey, there are four of us,” Sinnertwin said. “Not all about you.”  He and the others trailed in after Hun-Grr.

“And we can share.  …kind of.” Rippersnapper shrugged. “Or not.” 

“Not after BLOT,” Cutthroat muttered.

“Right. So Blot goes last.” 

“And downwind.”

“AHEM,” Hun-Grr said.  He paused to drain another pouch of energon. “You’re already sharing him up like he’s a fraggin’ PIE and you’re not even sure he’ll come.” Mmmm, pie. 

Cutthroat shrugged. “He’ll come. A lot, if I have anything to say about it. ”

Sinnertwin chortled at the bawdy joke, until Hun-Grr glared him down. “What? He will show if we ask him.  I mean, seriously. He came before.” A pause, and then he broke down into laughter. “Eighteen times!”

Rippersnapper stared at Cutthroat and Sinnertwin who were laughing so hard they had fallen against each other, frames shaking. “They do, uh, have a point. He showed up at Mumu-Obscura.  He likes us…uh, don’t really know why.  If we ask him, why wouldn’t he?”

Hun-Grr considered.  “Just me, but I’m not sure ‘hey Sixshot, come on over so we can frag your cortex out’ would really be the best approach. Lacks a certain tactical subtlety.”

“Yeah, well, so do we,” Sinnertwin managed, before dissolving back into laughter.

Rippersnapper rolled his optics. “Right. Well, we could ask him to come check out some new weapons or something. Right?  Asking for his expertise. Or something.”

Hun-Grr tilted his head. “That could work.”

“Before we jump him,” Cutthroat said, waving one hand. “Yeah, yeah, clever trap. But it’s going to be tough moving from one to the other, you know.  Oh look at our weapons…boink.”

Sinnertwin quivered from the floor, “I’d like to get a real close look at his ‘weapon’!” 

“Maybe a test fire,” Cutthroat tossed back at him, over his shoulder.  Sinnertwin honked with laughter.  

Seriously? This team was unmanageable. How Hun-Grr got them to do anything was a minor miracle. For which he obviously did not get enough credit.  But Sixshot must have seen something. You know. To  have chosen him. The Phase Sixer could have had anyone on the fraggin’ base. But he chose Hun-Grr. He chose the Terrorcons.

“Right. Well.  We’re a team, Terrorcons.”  Hun-Grr crossed to the main display, flicking it on.  He sketched out a rough of the furniture in the main room. “Let’s make a plan.”  

 Next: Best Plan Ever

Date: 2010-12-27 06:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] evvj.livejournal.com
-gigglefit-
Oh my... that's just... I don't even...
Sixshot never stood a chance. xD

Date: 2010-12-28 05:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] albinocthulhu.livejournal.com
:luaghing through the whole thing: GASP! :laughing some more:

Date: 2010-12-28 03:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] macboris.livejournal.com
Definitely the best plan ever!

Sinnertwin and Cutthroat are absolutely hilarious, I love how you wrote their dumb little jokes. (And Hun-Grr has no taste! Sinnertwin is extremely sexy. Ahm.)

Also - Sexshot! Finally Blot discovers the magic of unfortunate TF names.

Date: 2010-12-28 03:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] macboris.livejournal.com
Wait, wrong fic title. Whoops! Still, probably their best plan yet.

Date: 2010-12-29 01:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dfastback68.livejournal.com
'Sexshot' is far better than my constantly mistyping 'Sixshit' (WHY IS THE I RIGHT NEXT TO THE O ON THE KEYBOARD!?). This kind of brainstorming is probably why teams like the Predacons and Constructicons beat them out of promotions :D

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