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shadow_vectorTFA (inamorato AU)
Blackout, Barricade, with cameos by Cyclonus and Strika)
no warnings
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tf_speedwriting prompt 'running out of time' Blackout clutched the list General Strika had given him, waiting patiently on the line that snaked into the Resupply. He hoped they wouldn’t run out of stuff before he got to the front of the line. The list looked really long. Which meant it was a big mission. He liked big missions—because then he didn’t feel as big and clumsy and stupid and stuff like he did here, back in what Oil Slick called the Rereshwams or something. He never said the word himself, because, knowing Oil Slick, it was a very, very naughty word.
“Blackout,” the voice burst over his comm, impatient. “Location. Report!”
Blackout’s rotors twitched in alarm. Cyclonus was always so sharp! Sometimes Blackout thought he was a little mean, but he was a really good fighter, and that’s what mattered. “I’m on line for our supplies.” It had actually been tasked to Spittor, but General Strika had decided at the last moment that something this important should go to Blackout.
Well, what she’d said was that Spittor was ‘repugnant’ and ‘rebarbative’, but Blackout didn’t know what those meant. Just that she handed the list to him, after wiping it off with a handywipe, and told him not to come back without everything on that list.
“And you may haff to be…persvasive,” she’d said, giving him some kinda really intense look.
“Yes ma’am,” he’d said. “I’ll make sure to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and stuff.”
“Oh,” Cyclonus sounded surprised. “Huh, so you can actually follow orders.”
Blackout’s face scrunched. “Of course I can follow orders. I’m a good soldier!” He blinked, embarrassed, as everyone around him on line turned to look. “Ummm, sorry.” He drooped, optics focusing on the floor between his toes.
“We need you back here in one megacycle. With the stuff.”
“I—there’s a line and stuff,” Blackout whispered.
“Well, get to the head of it!”
“But, I, uhhh—.” The comm clicked off.
Oh…no. And there were still like ten mechs in front of him on line. Ten mechs with a deca to handle each mech and…that was…probably not enough time. He wished he wasn’t so bad at math.
“Umm, hello?” he said to the mech in front of him. “I, uh, I’m kinda in a hurry?”
“So am I.”
“But, uh…I got an important mission!” He tried to show his list, but it slipped out of his fingers to the floor. He dropped after it, hands scrabbling, bumping into mechs on either side of him. His rotors spun, nervously, which kicked up a breeze that sent the list skittering across the floor. And him after it.
He heard a loud, aggrieved sigh, and then a “FINE,” and then, footsteps approaching. He looked up to a gold-faced little grounder glaring down at him. With four optics. Which was like…twice as much glare as an ordinary mech.
The grounder tapped a brassard. “What’s the cause of this ruckus?”
“Ruck—ummm, I dropped my list. And I need this stuff because we like launch in a megacycle.”
“Need this stuff.” The grounder snorted, folding his taloned hands over his chassis. “You and everyone else in this dump.”
“Hey!” a voice behind the counter cried out. “Not a dump, Barricade.”
“Yeah, cram it,” the grounder tossed over his shoulder. He stomped on the list with one foot, and bent to pick it up. “Huh,” he said, scanning the list. “Lot of stuff on here.” He looked up. “General Strika, yeah?”
Blackout nodded climbing to his feet, holding his hand out for the list.
“Must be a big mission.”
Blackout nodded again, realized he’d just nodded, and stopped. “C-can I have my list back?”
“Pffff,” Barricade said. “No way. Follow me.” He pushed his way past the others on line. Blackout tried to follow, but in the narrow front area, bumped into them with his elbows, sending a few squished against the consoles and supply tables.
Barricade ducked under a part of the counter. “HEY, we got field grade order to fill.”
“Shut up, Barricade,” another mech said. “You don’t run this place.”
“Which is why it’s such a dump,” he said, smoothly. Blackout waited, edging from foot to foot. There was no way he could follow Barricade under that counter thingie.
“You’re on extra duty!” the sergeant mech howled.
“Yeah, yeah. So what? I got bored. Could happen to anyone.” He shrugged, and little tires over his shoulders spun. “Now you wanna get this place shut down because General Strika didn’t get her supplies on time?”
“General Strika!” The sergeant bolted upright, snatching at the list, optics scanning for the authorization code. “Slaggit, mechs! Hold orders. Fill this one!” He began frantically typing it into the systems display.
[***]
“I, uh…wow. That was really nice what you did back there,” Blackout said, pushing one of the heavily-laden grav sleds along the station corridor.
Barricade snickered. “That right there? Was the opposite of nice. I like jerking their chains.” He pushed the other grav sled, loaded with drums of munitions.
“Well…it was like…nice to me and stuff. I would never have gotten all this in time if you hadn’t helped.”
“Yeah?” Barricade cocked his head, studying Blackout for a long moment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Well of course I do! Copter doesn’t lie.”
Barricade’s mouth worked, kind of like he was trying not to laugh or something, but he didn’t laugh. “You’re…something else, copter.”
“I try to be a good soldier,” he said. Not a ‘something else’. He wasn’t even sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Yeah, I bet you are, too.” The optics moved to Blackout’s arm. “Heavy Brigade, huh? Thought you guys were disbanded.”
Blackout’s head drooped. “Not disbanded. I, uh…I’m the only one left.”
The optics, all four of them, honed in on his face again. “Yeah. Huh.” Another half shrug. “Like I said. You’re something else.” The way he said it this time, it definitely was a good thing.
Blackout straightened.
“It’s about fragging time!” Cyclonus was waiting, hands on hips, impatient by the tunnel leading to their dropship.
“Hey,” Barricade shouted back. “You said a megacycle. We still got a deca!”
Blackout stiffened. Wow, talking back to Cyclonus. The purple jet glowered. “Oh, so you found someone who can actually tell time.”
Blackout pushed his sled, leaning hard to get it to clear the corridor. “I’m not late,” he said, “And he helped me get all this stuff.”
Barricade slammed the brakes on his sled, and stomped over to Cyclonus, glaring up at him. He flashed something at Cyclonus, but Blackout was too busy trying to turn the sled to see. “Copter said he wasn’t late,” Barricade said, his voice quiet.
“Yeah,” Cyclonus said, giving Barricade a strange look. “Well, you want to be helpful, maybe you can help load it.” He spun on his heel and moved down the corridor, antennae flicking with irritation.
“That mech,” Barricade said, coming calmly back over to his sled, “has like, serious anger management issues. And I should know.”
“Hey, uh you don’t have to help me. I mean, more than you already have.”
Barricade shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in no hurry to get back to that dump.”
Blackout started loading the stuff on the conveyer that moved it into the ship. “Well, I don’t want you to get in any trouble or nothin’. Not on my account.”
The gold face twitched, then burst into a sort of smile. “I’m always in trouble, copter.” He winked. “Kinda what I do.” He turned and began shifting crates forward.
“Well, I wish I knew how to thank you and stuff.”
“Thank me?” Barricade looked like he’d said a dirty word. “Copter, I just like messing with mechs. Nothing to thank me for about that.”
“Well, still. I mean, you were super nice to me.”
“Yeah, uhhh, kind of an accident. You don’t know me very well,” Barricade said. He shoved another crate to the belt.
“But—but I’d like to!” Blackout blurted, turning to pick up the crate.
Their optics met.
“Yeah,” Barricade said, quietly, his voice losing its brassy tone. “Uh, me too.” His face was intent, like he was building himself up for something. He leaned forward closing the distance of the grav sled between them, his face nearing Blackout’s.
“Blackout!”
They both jumped, Blackout’s rotors flaring wide. “Y-yes General Strika!” he said, turning swiftly, embarrassed, even though he wasn’t quite sure why. General Strika stood in the ship’s main doorway.
“Ve leave soon. Did you get everyzing?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Good mech,” she said. “I knew I could count on you, Blackout.” She gave a satisfied nod. “Now finish loading. Ve leave vhen you are done.”
He nodded, earnestly, as she stepped back in the doorway. He looked nervously back at Barricade. “I, uh, I gotta go.”
“Yeah,” Barricade said, kicking the last drum onto the belt. “Well, never mind, okay?”
“But…I do mind.” Blackout gave a swift, worried look around. “Look, this mission’s not gonna take long. Can I, uh, can I look you up when I get back? Or,” he wrung his hands, “or get your comm freq or something?”
“My comm freq, are you…? Frag. You’re not kidding, are you?” The mouth looked like it was fighting some emotion. “Yeah. I’d…actually…kind of like that.” He rattled off a string of numbers, fast, as if aware what he was doing was a little silly, a little rash.
Blackout’s face broke into a grin.
Barricade shook his head. “Something else, copter.”
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Date: 2011-01-06 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 01:43 am (UTC):breathe: Wow. Long sentence. Seriously, if I could snuggle these two right now, I would. (That ... would be an awesome piece of derp!art: awkward 'Cade & 'Copter being glomped by fangirls... Gah! No! I can't draw stick figures! :whimper:)
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Date: 2011-01-06 03:21 am (UTC)Glad you liked--it was a lot of fun to write. XD
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Date: 2011-01-06 04:55 am (UTC)I've never seen TFA, actually, but damn this was cute.
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Date: 2011-01-08 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 05:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-08 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-08 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-08 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-08 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 12:43 am (UTC)