Really Stupid
Title: Really Stupid
Rating: K
Series: G1
Summary: Wildrider learns some new human customs, while Drag Strip learns those customs are better left to the humans.
I have a terrible problem with staying on task. Instead of working on Best Laid Plans, or even paying attention to the poor Terrorcons, I had this brainstorm during breakfast this morning. There's probably a joke in there somewhere about thinking before caffeinating.
Geri belongs to mdperera, author of some of the best Stunticon stories out there. I have her permission to use her character, and I encourage you to read The Girl Who Loved Wildrider to find out more about Geri. Enjoy!
The air was cold and crisp, everything around them covered in a blanket of pure white. Most of the open field was a plane of smooth, uninterrupted snow, except the bits where Wildrider had done a few donuts. Geri hadn't liked that; especially when he had told her he thought there might be a lake under all the snow. This was an unusual amount of precipitation for the area anyways. Wildrider had struggled to remember if there were any weather-controlling plots on the table back at headquarters, but he couldn't think of any.
Denied the dangerous thrill of possibly falling through the ice, Wildrider settled for watching Geri plod around in the seven inch snowfall. He had never seen her so overdressed before: a brightly colored snowsuit covered her from head to foot, accompanied by boots, mittens and a scarf that covered her face up to her sunglasses. The thick sweater she wore underneath the suit made it so she couldn't put her arms flat to her body, and when she walked, Wildrider was reminded of those videos of astronauts. Or may be the Michelin Tire mascot - only shock pink.
All the extra clothing really slowed her down, but apparently it was necessary to keep her from freezing to death. Her father had worried about her going out into this weather, but no kid wanted to miss snow in California. Geri had told him that she had a strict curfew; if she wasn't back home before dinner, she would not only get in trouble, but the cold could make her sick, too. On top of that, if she was late, her father would know she wasn't at her friends house, but way out of town with a Decepticon.
That convinced Wildrider that she just might have that daredevil streak in her after all. Why else would she want to play in the snow if it had the possibility of harming her, as well as defying her father? May be he was finally rubbing off on her.
Although, her refusal to remain on the frozen lake wasn't very daring. Neither was her decision to start building up mounds of snow, which she called a 'snow fort'. To Wildrider, it looked a lot more like an ugly lump than a wall, and he had told her as much. Geri ignored his comments, as well as his attempt to fill the silence by blaring Trans Siberian Orchestra's 'Wizards in Winter'. Besides, playing in the snow wasn't nearly as fun as she'd made it out to be.
Halfway through 'A Mad Russian's Christmas', Geri abandoned the fort-making, much to Wildrider's relief. Every time he had tried to help, she told him to stop knocking the walls down. When he'd asked her how she knew he was flattening them when she couldn't see, she reminded him, for probably the millionth time, that her ears worked fine. That, and when she'd felt hard packed snow where powder should have been, she figured him out fairly quickly.
Wildrider watched her lay down in the snow, spreading her arms and legs like she was going to fly - only on the ground. When she started moving her arms and legs, the snow against her suit going whoosh whoosh whoosh, he started to think that she was trying to fly. Human children liked to play make believe right? He had no idea what she was doing at all.
Geri finished after a moment, then stood up and hopped out of the impression she'd made in the fresh snow. She pushed her sunglasses back up, face red from the cold. Having unwrapped her scarf, her breath was visible as she huffed from the exertion of playing in the snow.
“How's it look?” she asked, and Wildrider tilted his head in confusion.
“Like, uh, you sat in the snow,” he said.
“It's supposed to be a snow angel,” Geri said. “My arms make the wings, and angels are supposed to wear robes, so that's made by my legs.”
“Oh,” said Wildrider. He still didn't see it. Besides, neither could Geri, so what did it matter? “So-”
He stopped when she laid down on the ground and started making another one, possibly thinking the first hadn't been good enough. Wildrider simply watched her, and by the time she'd started on her third, he had a sudden epiphany.
“Hey, I got it!” he said brightly. “Angels are supposed to be up in the clouds right? So this is what happens when they fall, huh? What do they do with the bodies?”
Geri frowned, and Wildrider's grin faded. Alright, so may be that wasn't it.
“Why don't you try to make one?” she asked.
“I'm pretty sure we don't have angels,” said Wildrider. Besides, they sounded like something the Autobots would believe in, and the Decepticons would debunk by blasting them all to pieces. Or may be -
“Well?”
“Nah,” said Wildrider. “I'll get ice in my servos.”
“Ice melts,” Geri pressed.
“I don't want it in there in the first place,” Wildrider said evasively.
“Fine,” said Geri, somehow folding her arms over her chest. With all the extra padding, he was impressed she could bend her elbows. “We'll do something else.”
Wildrider didn't think there was much else to do out here besides freeze. She didn't have any skis, or even a sled, so that ruled out the probably fatal activity of pulling her behind him. Snow forts were boring, snow men were boring, and snow angels were definitely -
A ball of snow went whizzing past his legs, landing on the ground harmlessly a feet away. Wildrider looked over at Geri, seeing her frowning again.
“Rats,” she said, knowing she'd missed him. “You must've moved.”
“Are you trying to start a snowball fight with me?” Wildrider's question was answered when Geri bent down to scoop up more snow, packing it into a ball between her hands. “That's a bad idea, kiddo.”
“No one ever wanted to have a snowball fight with me,” she said. “They don't think it's fun playing with the blind girl.”
“No one wants to play with me either,” said Wildrider, as another snow ball flew by his other side. Mostly because they think I'm crazy. He wasn't going to say that to Geri, though. Being blind had never really slowed her down before, so she was probably trying to guilt him into it. “You're twelve, right?”
“Yes,” said Geri, already starting another snow ball. “So?”
“So, aren't humans supposed to get smarter as they get older?”
“I guess,” she shrugged, apparently immune to his attempt to insult her. “Do Cybertronians?”
“Um,” Wildrider thought about that. He'd certainly learned quite a bit since he'd come online, but it didn't make him feel any smarter. The older Decepticons weren't great role models, either. “Well, if Starscream's anything to go by, I guess not.”
Hard packed snow and ice collided with his force field, the sizzling sound making Geri giggle and Wildrider look down at his leg.
“Third time's a charm,” said Wildrider, picking up a handful of snow and dumping it on the girl beside him. Her indignant shout made him laugh, and he decided playing in the snow wasn't that boring after all.
“Watch it!” Drag Strip barked, veering around Wildrider's latest attempt at a fish-tail before they collided. Dead End had wisely chosen to put some distance between them, while Breakdown was nowhere to be seen, having gone on ahead to scout out the area. It was a small mercy that Motormaster had opted for the trucking route, leaving them to take the more treacherous mountain pass. The snow had stopped a few hours prior, but the only meant the roads weren't plowed and thus twice as deadly - to humans, at least.
“This is fun!” Wildrider was laughing, sliding more than driving at this point. Drag Strip responded by putting on more speed, finding that six tires weren't much better than four in the snow and slush. Dead End slowed down, not wanting to get any closer to Wildrider than he already was. To be honest, Drag Strip was surprised he hadn't said anything about the salt and slush soiling his once polished paint job; he was probably saving it for a dramatic moment.
“Quit goofing around and pay attention to the road,” Drag Strip snapped. They weren't going anywhere important, but they were close to the edge of the Autobot's territory in the Cascades. The real danger, however, was explaining to Motormaster what took them so long if he beat them to the rendezvous point.
“I am!” Wildrider said, even as his tires spun into the ruts left behind by Drag Strip. The gray Ferrari suddenly turned hard to the left, splattering slush everywhere as he slid off the road. “See, there it goes!”
“Hilarious,” Drag Strip groaned, slowing down as Wildrider continued to slid down the slight incline. They weren't up high enough on the mountain for there to be any danger of falling off a cliff, but the wind had pushed the snowfall into thick drifts. Coming to a slow stop, Wildrider's tires spun uselessly as they sank into several feet of snow. “Come on, you're making us late.”
“Nah, Motormaster's way behind,” Wildrider said, well aware of Drag Strip's concern. “According to the news, there's some big pile up on the route he's on.”
“I imagine Motormaster caused the pile up,” Dead End said, coming to a perfect stop next to Drag Strip. His windshield wipers made a few passes, and Drag Strip realized he hadn't been far away enough to avoid getting splattered by Wildrider. “Are you stuck?”
“Sorta,” said Wildrider, before transforming. He looked down at the imprint his vehicle mode had left, expression brightening in a way that made Drag Strip suspicious. “Hey, look, I made a snow car angel!”
“...I'm not even going to ask,” said Drag Strip, backing up and preparing to continue down the road. “Let's get going already.”
“No way! Check this out,” Wildrider suddenly fell backwards, flailing his arms out and landing spread eagle in the snow. Both Drag Strip and Dead End waited for something interesting to happen, and were sorely disappointed when Wildrider only began scissoring his arms and legs in the snow.
“Snow angel!” Wildrider announced, springing up from the Stunticon-shaped crater he'd made. Despite himself, Drag Strip transformed and slid down the shoulder of the road to get a closer look. And, possibly, drag Wildrider up by force. Dead End had transformed as well, except he sat down just off the road, turning his attention to prying the hardened slush out of his wheel wells.
“That's not an angel,” Drag Strip said, looking down at the shape Wildrider had left behind. Before he could try to defend himself, Drag Strip continued: “Angels don't have horns.”
Wildrider looked down as well, instantly noticing what Drag Strip was seeing. The spikes on both sides of his head had left a noticeable mark in the snow.
“Snow demon, then,” Wildrider shrugged. “It's not like you could do better, anyways.”
The ploy was so obvious even Dead End shook his head, though he did not look up from his cleaning.
“Oh come on,” Drag Strip snarled. “Anyone can do that, numb nodes! It's some stupid human thing anyways, isn't it?”
“So what if it is?” Wildrider shot back. “You really think you can't do better?”
Drag Strip sent him a nasty look. “It may be stupid, but at least mine won't have horns.”
As he sat down in the snow, trying not to disturb it too much, he completely missed the devious expression that spread across Wildrider's face. Laying flat on his back and feeling like an idiot, he started moving his limbs like Wildrider had, mollified by the fact that his would look much better.
A few feet away, Drag Strip could hear Wildrider scuffling around in the snow. What was he doing, making another one? It wasn't going to look any different than the first one he'd made, unless he figured out a way to keep his spikes out of the snow. Not that it mattered, because he felt stupid enough -
Wildrider suddenly appeared in his periphery vision, and a second later an armful of snow was dumped onto his face.
Really stupid, Drag Strip thought, hearing Wildrider run off while giggling madly. He didn't move, partly because he was so stunned about what had just happened, but mostly because he was positively fuming. It was a small miracle his anger didn't melt the snow his head was buried in. After a moment, he sat up, shaking to dislodge the snow. It had fogged up his optic band, making everything look like a fuzzy human portrait of the landscape.
“Hey Dead End, wanna make snow angels?” he heard Wildrider say, already back at the road.
“No,” Dead End said flatly.
“C'mon, it'll be fun!”
“Wildrider, I saw what you did to Drag Strip.”
“Hey Wildrider!” Drag Strip shouted, wiping the condensation off of his visor. “Why don't you ask Motormaster?”
“That's not funny,” Wildrider called back.
“It'll be hilarious!” Drag Strip said, getting to his feet. “Especially when he tears your arms off!”
A hunk of ice went flying by head, missing by mere inches. His gravito-gun was in his hand in an instant, but at that point Dead End finally intervened.
“Let's not bring an avalanche down on us,” he said, raising his hands. Of course not, Drag Strip thought. No one would see your polished chassis under all that snow if we got crushed.
“This isn't over,” Drag Strip warned, sub spacing his weapon and trudging back up the incline. Wildrider had that ridiculous grin on his face, which just made Drag Strip's vital fluid boil at the reminder of being tricked.
“It will be if we don't catch up with Breakdown,” Dead End said. “He's just informed me that Motormaster is past the pile up, and making good time.”
That wiped the smile off of Wildrider's face. “We're scrap if he beats us there.”
“He won't,” said Drag Strip, already transforming and revving his engine. Wildrider and Dead End followed suit even as he started off down the road ahead of them. “In fact, I'm going to be the first one there.”
“What about Breakdown?” Dead End asked, even though he knew what was coming.
“I'll beat him too,” said Drag Strip, at the same time wishing the plows had already gone through these roads. Once the county got wind of Stunticons on their roads, the plows probably wouldn't be sent out until they had some Autobots to hold their hands.
“You're on!” Wildrider suddenly announced, sending more slush and ice flying as he sped up to match Drag Strip's speed.
The challenge accepted, both Stunticons tore off down the icy roads with reckless abandon, leaving Dead End to wonder how every patrol turned into a race.
A/N: Thanks again to mdperera for letting me borrow Geri. Credit for the gag Wildrider pulled on Drag Strip, including the 'really stupid' line, goes to Bill Amend, creator of the comic strip Fox Trot. I can't find the original strip online, but it was one of the earlier ones from the 80s. It's really a pity he doesn't do dailies anymore.