Fic Drabble Responses
I have several of these half-started, so here are two to start off the drabble-response. I hope I can get through all of the requests, schedule depending. In the meanwhile,
Prompt: How do we end up in these situations?
Characters: Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee
Bumblebee sat staring moodily at the chain link fence before him. Dusk still gilded its edges in soft lines of rose, while the dirty pavement before him held a fading wash of light, the last breath of a dying day.
"Well."
Beside him, Mirage sat fuming. His engine cut, a boot placed firmly around one of his front tires, the Autobot spy all but radiated his disgust.
"Oh, come on, 'Raj."
That was Jazz. Parked on Bumblebee's other side, and similarly booted, the Special Operations commander was making his best efforts at thawing the spy's icy mood.
"You knew they were going to shut that street down for a parade," Mirage muttered. "You knew it. You picked that street for a stakeout on purpose, knowing full well we would be towed and impounded."
"Raj," Jazz countered, "come on, man, how long we been friends? You know I wouldn't do you like that."
"You would do me like that, and we are not friends," Mirage seethed. "In fact, we never have been friends. And actually, I'm quite sure I don't know you. I should alert the impound officer right now that I've been taken hostage by a parti-colored maniac!"
"Mirage, seriously," Bumblebee tried to sooth the spy's rising temper. "We can't break cover, even now. You can't --"
"Yes, I know perfectly well what I can and cannot do," Mirage snapped. "And I'll thank you to stuff it up your exhaust before I start in on you too."
"For what?" Bumblebee asked, not quite managing to keep the hint of a quaver out of his vocalizer.
"For being short, yellow, and gauche," the spy retorted, and Bumblebee breathed a sigh of relief. It had been he, of course, who had been charged with picking the stakeout spot. He'd known the parade routes, and planned their position carefully, ensuring a good view, while making sure to position them safely on a side street, and away from the parade route. Of course, he'd forgotten to check for any last minute route change notifications, and just as he, Jazz, and Mirage had gotten to the point in their surveillance plan where they absolutely could not break cover, Bumblebee realized to his horror that he had situated them in a no-park zone. Naturally, tickets were issued, the three of them were towed, and not only did they fail to collect their intel, they were now booted, ticketed, and locked up in the impound yard.
"Raj, man..." Jazz tried one more time. Ever the optimist, that one.
"They even gave me an extra fine for not being street legal," Mirage seethed. "And then took me...for a joy ride around the block."
At that, Jazz just gave up. But Bumblebee gave the saboteur credit for not ratting the minibot out. Bumblebee would owe Jazz for this. Big time.
"You know what I'm going to do?" Mirage spoke up, his voice dangerously quiet. "I'm going to sneak up on you in your sleep, I'm going to disassemble your wretched carcass, and I'm going to ship your parts to the four corners of the world. And then Prowl can just try to find your miserable pieces.
Crickets chirped. The last of the light had faded.
"And don't think I can't do it," the spy added, a chilling note of finality to his tone. "You have to sleep sometime. And you'll never...see...me...coming."
Silence descended at that, Jazz too smart to press his point again, Bumblebee too terrified. The crickets strengthened their chorus all around, and the stars began to come out, showing palely beyond the boundaries of the decrepit yard.
It was going to be a long night.
***
Prompt: Not Again
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Ratchet, and Prowl
"NOT AGAIN, NOT AGAIN, I JUST saw you this MORNING!" Ratchet hammered his wrench against the table to punctuate each word.
Wincing slightly, Sideswipe shrank back a bit toward Sunstreaker, not that his brother intended to offer him the barest scrap of protection. "But Ratchet --" he tried, hands held up before him in a half-sparked attempt to ward off further blows.
Not that it did him any good, as it only earned him another sharp rap against the helmet. "Don't you 'but Ratchet' me, you sparking little glitch! I fixed you last night! I fixed you this morning, and now you're IN HERE AGAIN not just with your own damaged self, but with PROWL'S, TOO!"
"But--" Sideswipe tossed a glance sideways at Prowl, who was sitting beside him in a similarly precarious state of health, his mouth deeply downturned.
"NO BUTS!"
"But Ratchet --"
"NO BUT RATCHETS! NO BUT RATCHETS!" the chief medical officer bawled as he rained down blows over Sideswipe's head and shoulders. "You do NOT race around at TWO HUNDRED miles per hour and PLOW into the EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF THIS PIG-SWILLING UNIT!"
"But Ratchet," Sideswipe protested as he cowered under the blows, "I didn't hit Prowl -- Prowl plowed into me!"
A moment of silence followed, in which the medic drew back, his face gone quite suddenly and utterly blank. Side by side, Prowl and Sideswipe regarded him, while Sunstreaker looked on with no small amount of glee. "You know, that's true," the yellow warrior broke the ugly silence. "Prowl hit a patch of sand rounding the corner, and T-boned Side but good." He snickered, then added, "So much for your ambush, Prowl."
His face growing ominous, his frown deepening by the second, Ratchet slid his steely gaze toward the tactician. "Is...that...true...?"
By way of reply, Prowl pressed his mouth into a thin line, as an uncharacteristic look of embarassement crept across his features. It was all Ratchet needed. Without another word, he simply launched into beating the tactician about the head and shoulders, an act which he had no doubt been wanting to perform for some years now, and which Prowl merely suffered with a wince and upraised arms. There would be payback later to be sure, but for now, both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker contented themselves to smile and enjoy the show.
Because no matter what, this was going down as the best wreck of Sideswipe's life.
****
Snerk.
Prompt: How do we end up in these situations?
Characters: Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee
Bumblebee sat staring moodily at the chain link fence before him. Dusk still gilded its edges in soft lines of rose, while the dirty pavement before him held a fading wash of light, the last breath of a dying day.
"Well."
Beside him, Mirage sat fuming. His engine cut, a boot placed firmly around one of his front tires, the Autobot spy all but radiated his disgust.
"Oh, come on, 'Raj."
That was Jazz. Parked on Bumblebee's other side, and similarly booted, the Special Operations commander was making his best efforts at thawing the spy's icy mood.
"You knew they were going to shut that street down for a parade," Mirage muttered. "You knew it. You picked that street for a stakeout on purpose, knowing full well we would be towed and impounded."
"Raj," Jazz countered, "come on, man, how long we been friends? You know I wouldn't do you like that."
"You would do me like that, and we are not friends," Mirage seethed. "In fact, we never have been friends. And actually, I'm quite sure I don't know you. I should alert the impound officer right now that I've been taken hostage by a parti-colored maniac!"
"Mirage, seriously," Bumblebee tried to sooth the spy's rising temper. "We can't break cover, even now. You can't --"
"Yes, I know perfectly well what I can and cannot do," Mirage snapped. "And I'll thank you to stuff it up your exhaust before I start in on you too."
"For what?" Bumblebee asked, not quite managing to keep the hint of a quaver out of his vocalizer.
"For being short, yellow, and gauche," the spy retorted, and Bumblebee breathed a sigh of relief. It had been he, of course, who had been charged with picking the stakeout spot. He'd known the parade routes, and planned their position carefully, ensuring a good view, while making sure to position them safely on a side street, and away from the parade route. Of course, he'd forgotten to check for any last minute route change notifications, and just as he, Jazz, and Mirage had gotten to the point in their surveillance plan where they absolutely could not break cover, Bumblebee realized to his horror that he had situated them in a no-park zone. Naturally, tickets were issued, the three of them were towed, and not only did they fail to collect their intel, they were now booted, ticketed, and locked up in the impound yard.
"Raj, man..." Jazz tried one more time. Ever the optimist, that one.
"They even gave me an extra fine for not being street legal," Mirage seethed. "And then took me...for a joy ride around the block."
At that, Jazz just gave up. But Bumblebee gave the saboteur credit for not ratting the minibot out. Bumblebee would owe Jazz for this. Big time.
"You know what I'm going to do?" Mirage spoke up, his voice dangerously quiet. "I'm going to sneak up on you in your sleep, I'm going to disassemble your wretched carcass, and I'm going to ship your parts to the four corners of the world. And then Prowl can just try to find your miserable pieces.
Crickets chirped. The last of the light had faded.
"And don't think I can't do it," the spy added, a chilling note of finality to his tone. "You have to sleep sometime. And you'll never...see...me...coming."
Silence descended at that, Jazz too smart to press his point again, Bumblebee too terrified. The crickets strengthened their chorus all around, and the stars began to come out, showing palely beyond the boundaries of the decrepit yard.
It was going to be a long night.
***
Prompt: Not Again
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Ratchet, and Prowl
"NOT AGAIN, NOT AGAIN, I JUST saw you this MORNING!" Ratchet hammered his wrench against the table to punctuate each word.
Wincing slightly, Sideswipe shrank back a bit toward Sunstreaker, not that his brother intended to offer him the barest scrap of protection. "But Ratchet --" he tried, hands held up before him in a half-sparked attempt to ward off further blows.
Not that it did him any good, as it only earned him another sharp rap against the helmet. "Don't you 'but Ratchet' me, you sparking little glitch! I fixed you last night! I fixed you this morning, and now you're IN HERE AGAIN not just with your own damaged self, but with PROWL'S, TOO!"
"But--" Sideswipe tossed a glance sideways at Prowl, who was sitting beside him in a similarly precarious state of health, his mouth deeply downturned.
"NO BUTS!"
"But Ratchet --"
"NO BUT RATCHETS! NO BUT RATCHETS!" the chief medical officer bawled as he rained down blows over Sideswipe's head and shoulders. "You do NOT race around at TWO HUNDRED miles per hour and PLOW into the EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF THIS PIG-SWILLING UNIT!"
"But Ratchet," Sideswipe protested as he cowered under the blows, "I didn't hit Prowl -- Prowl plowed into me!"
A moment of silence followed, in which the medic drew back, his face gone quite suddenly and utterly blank. Side by side, Prowl and Sideswipe regarded him, while Sunstreaker looked on with no small amount of glee. "You know, that's true," the yellow warrior broke the ugly silence. "Prowl hit a patch of sand rounding the corner, and T-boned Side but good." He snickered, then added, "So much for your ambush, Prowl."
His face growing ominous, his frown deepening by the second, Ratchet slid his steely gaze toward the tactician. "Is...that...true...?"
By way of reply, Prowl pressed his mouth into a thin line, as an uncharacteristic look of embarassement crept across his features. It was all Ratchet needed. Without another word, he simply launched into beating the tactician about the head and shoulders, an act which he had no doubt been wanting to perform for some years now, and which Prowl merely suffered with a wince and upraised arms. There would be payback later to be sure, but for now, both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker contented themselves to smile and enjoy the show.
Because no matter what, this was going down as the best wreck of Sideswipe's life.
****
Snerk.