@agatharights made the cutest Minimus Ambus TFA design and so I had to write a little ficlet with him and Rodimus.
ok? ok.
"So," Rodimus all but blurted out in their shared office, "Did...uh...Ultra Magnus and you ever...?"
Minimus' optics instinctively brightened in annoyance as the young Prime interrupted his work and he glanced over his shoulder. It was a strange adjustment, as seeing that he and Ultra Magnus always shared silence in their work. But Rodimus...Rodimus was extremely different. So openly cheerful and ambitious and eager to prove himself. He lacked refinement, definitely, and yet everyone enjoyed his company.
The minibot tilted his helm as he eyed the playful grin on the captain's face. "Did we what?" he asked, sounding somewhat irritated.
Rodimus was leaning against the right side of his chair, elbows propped up on his desk. His chin was resting on his servos as he watched Minimus."Blow off steam?"
Minimus sputtered in surprise and froze, watching as the datapad in his tiny servos slipped out and dropped to the desk surface in a loud CLANG. "What?! Rodimus, where are you manners?! You...you can't just ask--"
"So, no then?" Rodimus replied and cackled.
"Rodimus, I was his personal assistant," Minimus quickly stated and turned his helm away with an indignant huff. "And besides, Ultra Magnus was too busy trying to keep Cybertron in line. He didn't have spare time for a useless mini-con like me."
The captain paused and blinked. "Minimus, you aren't useless."
"Sentinel certainly thinks so," he replied, voice oozing sourly. "He took one look at me and immediately dismissed me from my duties."
Rodimus frowned. "Is that why you've been so on edge?" He gently reached out and nudged the mini-con's shoulder. "Well, look at it this way! Sentinel...err...Magnus isn't here on the ship! We're the authority here," Rodimus explained and swirled the tips of his fingers into Minimus' shoulder plating. "It is a shame that Optimus wasn't made Magnus instead though...He would have kept you, no problem. From what I hear, he was actually the one who brought Megatron in."
Minimus made a soft sigh in response, as if ready to go on another tangent about how Rodimus was wrong. But he was leaning into the touch; his small shoulders sank into a relaxed posed. More importantly, he remained quiet.
"Minimus...?" Rodimus cocked an optic brow when he realized that the mini-con seemed to be...purring. He did not get a verbal response, but he watched as Minimus slumped back, optics dulling.
Rodimus blinked several times, but he continued massaging his fingers into the mini-cons frame. Minimus' trance just grew more and more relaxed.
"Well, like I said, Minimus," the captain began, still grinning, "you aren't useless."
ok, this is a short little prose type thing I got an idea of from a dream. It’s been bugging me for a few days and I just wanted to post it here. Maybe you guys will like it? ;D
My hands are shaking. Beads of sweat collect on my brow as I carefully assemble my instrument. From the shadows, I lay on the cold concrete; as simple and straight as a line. The moon looms above, like an old and wise teacher. It whispers silent guidance--reminders to watch my breath and keep my shoulders squared.
Through the scope, I see only one window lit in the luxurious mansion. I watch. I wait. The moon never leaves my side as I observe the target come into view. His hair is gray, wrinkles cover his face. Stress has aged him even faster; stress of trying to maintain a city. But, the city has forsaken him. The city wants him dead.
I wait until he sits down in his expensive leather chair and line up the cross-hairs with his forehead. I whisper a goodbye as I pull the trigger; a hardly audible muffle of the gunshot oozes into the air.
I watch as moments later, his forehead bursts with crimson and he slumps over in his chair.
I smirk and give a single stroke down my instrument's barrel; it never disappointed.
I awake with a single gasp and glance around in confusion. After a long day of work, I came home...and passed out on the couch. I often had many of those dreams...so real and life-like.
It was barely after 1 a.m. when I turned the television back on. With a yawn, I skimmed through the channels and paused when the late night news flashed and caught my attention. I rubbed my eyes before turning the volume up and listened in.
The text on the bottom scrolled by, with a bright and bold "Assassination" spelled out. I scratched my head and stared at the picture. The city's mayor... It was the same man from my dream. The same man I saw died.
When Optimus opened his optics, the last thing he expected was to find his arms cuffed to his berth's frame or his tiny model sitting on his chest plate with a smug expression, but here they were. The Prime glanced from the stasis cuffs to the model several times, considering the situation and hummed with a not-quite-surprised tone.
"...I'm more concerned with how you managed to get my stasis cuffs and use them," Optimus stated truthfully and shifted on his berth.
The model growled and stood up, tapping his tiny pedes impatiently on the Prime's broad chestplate.
"Ahh, wait. You're hungry, aren't you? It has been a several hours since you fed," Optimus mused.
"How clever you must think you are, Prime," the tiny voice snapped. He turned away from Optimus. "First you starve me and then you intend to make me beg for nourishment, as if it's amusement."
"This again? From what I recall, everytime I ask if you are ready to feed, you get angry at me. At least you never keep it repetitive or dull though," he replied casually and nodded to the cuffs.
"No! This is not a game," the model hissed. "I shall now claim the spoils of war."
"Is that so?" the Prime murmured and chuckled. "Ah. I wanted to let you know that I've forgiven you for breaking my rare datapad of Thunderclash's autobiography. I'm sure it was...an accident and you didn't intend that result."
"Yes, I did."
The more that passed, the more Optimus believe it wasn't a matter of what his Bad Predacon model couldn't accomplish, but moreso a matter of when he would try something else as unexpected. At the very least, he didn't trying using a weapon, as he did on the factory's guards, so that had to of meant something...hopefully.
"Spread your legs," the model ordered after marching down Optimus's body, stopping just above his waist.
"Since you insist," Prime replied and stretched his body out with a dramatic sigh. "You know, if you were my size, this would be possibly fun."
The model sneered. "The High and Mighty Prime has a type? I bet you enjoy being tied down and spoken down to, hm?"
Optimus chuckled again and rolled his helm. "I might be wet in a few hours at this rate."
This drew a loud snarl from the mode. "Arrogant fool," he hissed as he slid down between the Prime's legs. "Now open your filthy valve to me."
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The beeping is what lured Tailgate out of recharge. It was a newly installed monitor on his bedside, attached to his chestplate with thin wires to monitor his spark's pulsing. Ever since he was transferred back for another hospital stay, the pain in his body didn't occur as often. But, when it did, it hurt him so much. The pain would attack his vision first, turning everything into colorful blurs.
Cyclonus never strayed more then a few inches away from him; speaking softly when Tailgate needed some distraction or to sing to him when he was restless.
"Cyclonus," Tailgate whispered, beckoning the small model closer with a weak wave. "M-maybe the next time the nurse walks in, they'll have the cure...Heh."
"Perhaps," Cyclonus agreed with a nod.
Before he had the chance to say another word, the room's doorway chimed and opened. Cyclonus straightened up and eyed the newcomer with a frown. He didn't recognize the nurse...A flier, with high perked wings, a mostly white paint job with red and blue accents, and a yellow cockpit chest. His optics were sharp and prideful, but something about the doctor made Cyclonus intrigued.
"Hmmm. Tailgate?" the nurse spoke after entering the room, glancing up from his medical chart, and glanced around. "So you're the patient Ratchet's taken a liking to, huh?"
Tailgate slowly lifted his helm and stared. "Who are you?"
"My name's Pharma. I don't normally make rounds on this side of the hospital, so it's no surprise you haven't seen me before," he explained with a shrug. "Although...I was interested in getting the chance to look over your case eventually." His gaze swept over Tailgate's frame as he approached the berth. "Such a shame, a young thing like you..." Pharma tsked.
"I'm actually not that young," Tailgate corrected. "I've just been cooped up...in here...So I guess I just look young, huh?"
Pharma smirked as he leaned over and monitored Tailgate's spark. "Is...that so? Perhaps..." He lifted a servo to his chin and stroked it with a thoughtful expression. "I might have an offer for you, Tailgate."
Cyclonus blinked several times and crossed his arms as he listened.
"What kind of...o-offer?" Tailgate asked quietly.
Pharma's optics darkened for a moment and he glanced to the doorway. "Well, technically I'm not supposed to bring this up at work. But, it could mean you moving around and walking and all that fun stuff without pain."
"B-but, how is that possible?" Tailgate replied, voice shaking in a pained strain.
Pharma grinned as he pulled out a thin data disc and placed it in Tailgate's servo, forcing the minibot to curl his fingers into a fist. "I have a very important and wealthy friend who is privately developing technology that would allow one to...borrow a temporary new frame. He doesn't want it to come out publicly just yet, but he likes taking in cases like yours. Mechs too weak and sick to function properly, the poor and downtrod are even paid for their troubles."
"H-huh?" Tailgate was taken completely by surprise and simply stared.
"But, it's kept very hush-hush. It's an extremely huge honor to be given the opportunity though," Pharma explained in a very sing-song voice, smiling quickly. "Not that I would pressure you into a split second decision. No, no. Take your time to think it over," he added.
After a few moments of silence, Pharma took down Tailgate's information and looked over his frame.
"Everything looks alright for now."
"Wait!" Tailgate held up his hand and cried out. "What's...what would I have to, if I agree?"
"If you agree," Pharma replied, "everything will be explained afterwards. As I said though, take some time to think about it. No need to rush into this."
Its been a while since I’ve had one, but please come join me! ;D I might alternate between some Bad Pred. and a wip Prowl/Structicons ficlet. Click here and the pw is robutts.
Also I’ve never written this ship before so I hope it’s to your liking, Eph. ;w;
Blurr was surprised when Starscream of all mechs strolled into the bar, arms folded against his back and wings perked high in a proud display. He watched as the flier made his way to the bar counter and sat himself down, propping his elbows up on the counter. Blurr didn't overlook the glassed look in his optics and the strong smell of high grade on his breath.
"Starscream," Blurr stated, eyeing the Seeker as he polished a cube. It was extremely late in the day, of a rare slower day. So any business was better than none at all. It was just interesting to have the Seeker's presence. Especially a drunk Seeker.
"Mmm." Starscream's hum was a soft and sweet sound as he leaned his chin on one hand and gazed at Blurr. "Whatever you want to give," he slurred and giggled.
Blurr noticed the un-subtle glance sweeping up and down his frame. He chuckled. "Sounds like you've already been drinking enough, Screamer."
"Screamerrrr," Starscream mimicked, voice dragging in an amused purr. "Everyone calls me that. I don't scream that much do I?"
"I'd assume it's just an abbreviation of your name, Starscream," Blurr replied with a shrug.
"Give me a drink," he whined.
"I dunno, you're already really drunk," Blurr answered and sighed.
"I'll give you a dance for one," Starscream murmured with a coy tone.
"A what...?" the bartender repeated, uncertain if he heard correctly. When he glanced at Starscream, the Seeker was already climbing up on the counter. "Alright, alright! One drink, but that's it. Please don't dance on the counter."
Starscream looked just a bit disappointed, but the expression didn't last for long as he instead sat down on the bar and crossed one leg over the other.
Blurr watched Starscream over his shoulders as he poured several sweet and savory oils together and shook them in a mixing cylinder. It was unusual to witness Starscream allowing himself to get inebriated on such a giggly and carefree level. He couldn't help but wonder just how the Seeker managed to get to his bar without crashing into anything or anyone...
He turned back with a small cube of "Wing's Delight" in his hand and approached Starscream. "Here, this is popular with the fliers, so I figured you'd like it too," he explained and handed it off carefully. It'd be a shame if Starscream dropped the drink or accidentally spilled it.
Starscream smiled and took a large gulp immediately. "Ahhh. It's appealing, just like you," he stated with a giggle.
"So, all it takes to get a compliment from you is for you to be drunk, huh?" Blurr asked and leaned against the bar counter.
"If I say yes, will you agree to go on a date with me?"
Blurr blinked. "...Say again?"
"I wouldn't ask sober, but...ah..." Starscream swirled his drink and smiled. "I figured it would hurt less when I got rejected."
The bartender blinked a few more times. "I'd...uh...rather have this kind of conversation while you're sober, Starscream."
"Is that a yes?" Starscream asked innocently enough.
"Well...I'm more surprised than anything, but it's not a no," Blurr replied honestly. "Try asking me again when you aren't drunk," he said with a grin.
When Blurr turned around, Starscream was standing directly behind him. Before he could react, the Seeker smiled, pressed his lips against Blurr's and closed his optics. Blurr pulled back in pure instinct and watched as the Seeker closed his optics and collapsed to the ground. His helm lolled back and he began to mutter in a drunken stupor.
Blurr watched for a few seconds before he hesitantly kneeled down and poked Starscream. When the seeker whined and lazily batted against the touch, Blurr rolled his optics. With a sigh, he left the seeker on the floor for the moment and resumed cleaning the glasses. The bar still had a couple hours before closing, so he didn't have to worry about moving Starscream just yet.
But, Blurr still reflected on what had just transpired in the last couple minutes and chuckled. "A date, huh?"
At the very least, this would an interesting topic to discuss with Starscream when he was sobered up.
Yeah, Idk what brought this on, but I got bit by Ripclaw inspiration. I’ll never stop loving the dragon queen. Fiiiiight me if you want. ;D
Enjoy almost 3k words of this.
Rung paced back to his office, with his faceplate nearly hidden behind a datapad of information. The content that Rodimus had relayed from their recent escapade was just fascinating; they had landed at an abandoned factory full of Cybertronian tech. A full blown lab filled with data and research. The scientists there had reached a far amount of progress, but the lab was strangely evacuated.
According to Rodimus, the layout was a large encased dome area. There was one room of terminals, but it was mostly occupied with empty, broken specimen tubes scattered all around. But, after a short look around, the captains had decided that it was a waste of time to stay longer than needed; the ship had departed the lonely planet only hours ago.
With a slow rub against his chin, Rung activated the first record file. He listened as the audio clicked a few times before it began to play.
"--dacons were once a thriving species on Cybertron that disappeared before the start of the war. It is said that they were extremely intelligent and lived in large groups. Very social with their own kind. We need soldiers with such impressive strength and loyalty--Day 183. The sparks are not taking to the cloned protoform. They keep fading out--"
As the audio rolled on, Rung skimmed through a few schematics. If these designs were accurate, Predacons were much larger any typical Cybertronian. And they needed a large diet to sustain their energy.
When Rung approached his office doors, he paused when a series of loud crashes caught his attention. He quickly marched to the doorway and activated his lock. "Who's in here?" he called out and peered inside. A few stands for his models had been knocked over, metal was scattered in a messy pile on the floor. "Whirl? Is that you?" he called out when he spotted movement in the darkness.
With a loud and disappointed sigh, Rung walked forward a few steps. There was no answer, but he still heard someone grunting and more clang of his stands being knocked over.
"Alright, whoever you are, I'm not angry. But, I'll be making a call to Ultra Magnus--" Rung's voice dropped and he halted dead in his tracks when the lights turned on. He spotted a very long, seafoam colored tail swaying back and forth.
In an instant, the tail retreated when a giant reptilian looking helm took its place. Fierce yellow eyes glanced around in confusion while a maw was chomping on something. Rung saw brief crumbs of his energon treats droping from between the beast's sharp fangs. He froze and studied the large creature, eyeing its body a few times. Like the tail, the body was mostly the same dull seafoam, with red accents on its chest and haunches--with red wings folded against the body.
Even standing several feet away, Rung could see just how large the creature was. It had to be a few feet taller than him.
Rung shifted back when the beast turned its gaze on him and nudged his shelf away. It crossed the distance between them with a few steps and followed as Rung slowly backed against his chair. He frowned and watched as the thick snout descended on him, blowing hot steam against his chestplate, and hovered just above his many frame compartments. Taking a hint, Rung quickly pulled out a box of his energon stick treats and offered a few to the demanding growls.
The frills on the Predacon's head perked up as it eagerly accepted the treats and snapped them into pieces with no effort. It bowed its helm and began to lick the crumbs that had fallen to the floor.
"My name is Rung," Rung spoke up in a gentle voice as he held out another treat. "Can you understand me?"
He was met with a loud snort as the treats were snatched away from his servo.
"No?" Rung murmured softly and withdrew a few more pieces to offer. "Perhaps you just can't speak? If you can understand me, could you shake your head?"
When he wasn't responded to, Rung took a few more treats, waved them back and forth to get the Predacon's attention and tossed them to the opposite end of the room. He watched and waited as it quickly trotted after them.
"Rodimus," Rung whispered after connecting to his comm. link. "There's a bit of a problem."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Rodimus replied with an irritated tone. "Someone broke into Swerve's, drank all the energon, and trashed the place."
"I believe I know the source of the problem," Rung replied in a hushed tone. "Listen, Rodimus. The visit to that facility? A Predacon, one of the creatures created there, snuck on the ship. It's eating everything it can find."
"Whoa, really?" Rodimus' tone was more surprised than concerned. "But it was totally desolate there. Not a soul around."
"Well, let's just say that this one didn't come from Cybertron," Rung muttered. "I'll...try my best to keep it distracted while you get some help," he decided and glanced down to his container of treats.
When Rung heard another growl, he glanced over to the Predacon and watched as it slinked over to his office's long glass panel. He adjusted his glasses a few degrees and watched the curious behavior. The Predacon cautiously approached the window, as if walking on metaphorical eggshells, and sniffed all around. The Predacon rose up on its hind legs and leaned against the glass, gazing at the open void of space.
Rung, slowly stood up from his chair. "You've never seen that before, have you? Stars?"
After taking a few moments to survery the room entirely, Rung spotted a large hole in the cieling. It almost looked like it had been...melted.
He continued on with a reserved smile and inched closer, readying several more sticks in his servos. "I find it's relaxing. It's humbling to see how vast it is and it can help put things in perspective."
There was sudden ping at the door as Megatron, Rodimus, and Ultra Magnus quickly rushed into Rung's office--all three armed and ready in offensive positions. The Predacon quickly crouched down and growled. Its tail raised high in the air and sprung a pronged tip. Rung stepped back and glanced between both hostile groups.
"Easy, I think we can settle this peacefully, Rodimus," Rung began and held another energon stick out. But the Predacon only snarled and flared its wings out.
"Ewww. Someone call the zoo and let them know we've got an overgrown lizard on the loose," Rodimus said with a twinge of disgust in his voice.
"It could be a Decepticon spy," Ultra Magnus stated softly, cocking his blaster in his arms.
"Doubtful," Megatron murmured, keeping his gaze trained on the beast. "I don't believe I ever saw a soldier who looked like this. And how are we sure this is even a Cybertronian?"
In an instant, the beast turned around and stalked over to Rung. The therapist glanced towards the three other mechs gathered, watching as they were ready to spring into action. It came closer and closer, but before Rung could put distance between himself and it--or before the others could rush to his rescue--the Predacon stopped and...transformed. They all looked on, speechless, as the now bipedal Cybertronian yanked the datapad from Rung's hands and skimmed over it.
With a few taps from their three fingers, the Cybertronian shoved the datapad back into Rung's chest when an audio file started to play.
"--ts have learned of the facility's existence," the same scientist's voice from before flooded the room from the audio. "Unfortunately, the project must be canceled. All specimens will be purged so our work will not be copied or compromised." In the distance, multiple gun shots and roars.
Rung frowned as he listened and turned his gaze back to the Predacon. They had returned to the window, stroking the glass as they watched the stars.
"What?!" the scientist barked. "What do you mean she escaped? Kill her--AUGH!" their voice was cut off by an auido-piercing shriek and the audio ended immediately after.
"Is that why the lab was empty?" Rung asked after a few moments of silence passed.
"I opened my eyes for the first time," an unfamiliar voice whispered. It was a stoic voice; very calm and contrasting to the fierce growls from the Predacon form. "And all I saw was death. They were all being murdered. I was gonna be killed too."
"I think the matter at hand is why you're on this ship now," Megatron stated and crossed his arms.
"Hungry," the Predacon answered with a shrug. "I was gonna leave after I ate. Done it plenty of times with other ships."
"Others?" Rodimus repeated and narrowed his optics, looking suspicious of the Predacon
"You weren't the first to arrive," they replied and turned to face Rodimus. "The only difference is that all the other ships were slow to leave."
Rung was taken back with how tall the Predacon was; how they easily towered over him, standing a few feet taller than Megatron himself. The face appeared to be masked with a green plate, with two spikes against the edge of the helm. The frame was sturdy and well armored and still had the wings and tail from the Predacon form.
"So, um, no offense, but we'll have to arrest you," Rodimus spoke up and narrowed his optics. "You snuck on our ship, drank all the engex, which we'll be lucky if a mutiny doesn't break out from this!" The captain gestured angrily. "Uh. You arrest her, Magnus," he ordered, eyeing the melted hole in the ceiling.
Rung sighed and stepped forward. "Surely there's another way to handle this than throwing her in the brig?"
"For now, perhaps she can repay for all the damage that has been caused," Megatron spoke up. "A community service work, so to speak."
"Can't you just turn around and take me back?" the Predacon asked, tail flicking back and forth.
"No can do," Rodimus replied and made a smarmy grin. "We're on a very important quest. But, we can just jettison you off, lizard breath. Maybe you'll be lucky and be thrown back in your planet's direction."
The Predacon blinked a few times and turned back to the window. "...Oh."
"It's only right," Rung explained gently. "Perhaps after you've done enough to make up for this, you can leave on the next shore leave. Or stay if you want. We always have room for more." He glanced to Megatron and Rodimus and smiled. "Isn't that right?"
"I won't argue about gaining more numbers," Megatron mused and stroked his chin.
"But," Ultra Magnus quickly interjected, speaking up for the first time, "we know nothing about her. Not even a name. It would be unwise to give free roam of the ship without supervision."
"Well, yeah. Duh, Magnus," Rodimus replied. He walked over to the Predacon, resting his servos against his hips. "So, scaly. Got a name?"
The Predacon shrugged and continued stargazing. "I've been called a lot of things. Monster, kill it"-- she nodded to Rodimus--"scaly. It's what everyone yells when they see me. Don't think those count as real names, but whatever you wanna call me. I don't care. I just want food."
Rung stepped over to Megatron and Ultra Magnus and frowned. "I can tell right away she's lacking in socialization," he whispered. "This one must have been isolated for a while. I want to have sessions with her, definitely."
The co-captain nodded in agreement. "And she looks capable of taking a few punches and returning them. If anything, letting her participate in some sparring matches would let us see how strong she is or if she can even fight."
"We should get her to the medbay as soon as possible," Ultra Magnus reasoned. "We don't want a foreign disease infecting the crew. It's better to be safe than sorry."
Megatron nodded once more and strode over to the Predacon. "Well? Does it sound fair?"
"If I can eat at least," she said with a simple shrug.
"After you are given a proper check up, then you may eat," Megatron explained. "Now, come. We'll take you to the medbay so no one tries to attack by mistake."
Rung watched as the Predacon hesitantly followed behind Megatron, Rodimus, and Ultra Magnus, smiling in encouragement. She left with them without any objection. Rung paused and glanced to the mess still present on his floor and sighed in exasparation. He made a soft hum, glanced down at the datapad in his servos again, and approached the mess.
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The walked to the medbay had been surprisingly quiet and uneventful, though most of the crew had stopped in their tracks and gawked at the new arrival. Some looked uneasy, others made a hushed joke, and there was a few glares of disgust.
"Alright now," Velocity murmured as she scanned the Predacon's frame. "Almost done, I promise." The medic giggled when the Predacon groaned in boredom. "This is the boring part, I know. Believe me though, it'll be worth it."
"I haven't died yet," she replied and rolled her helm back. "I doubt I'll wake up dead. Well...maybe from hunger," she added and glanced to Megatron and Rodimus, who were standing near the medbay's entrance.
"If you've been eating, you won't starve just yet," Velocity replied with a smile. When a loud beep caught her attention, her optics widened and she waved the captains over. "Everything looks good. Well...there is one thing," she stated slowly and crossed her arms.
"Am I sick?" the Predacon asked, moderately interested in her surprised expression.
"Well, no. But--"
"Don't care," the Predacon interrupted and stood up. "Can I eat now?" she questioned, staring expectantly at Megatron.
"Ultra Magnus, take her to Swerve's and let him know he has new help for the bar," Megatron said and gestured to giant mech.
The Predacon huffed.
"And get something to snack on, I suppose," the co-captain added and waved them off.
Rodimus and Megatron watched as the ex-Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord led the Predacon out of the medbay.
"Take a look at this," Velocity urged as she displayed the information from the scan. "She's not sick, but her spark...it's energy is extremely potent. Only second to your spark, Megatron. And Minimus...err...Ultra Magnus? I'm not sure which name to use.. Anyway, it's the same type of energy--"
"What?" Rodimus blinked and glanced to Megatron. "But the only thing in common with their sparks is..."
"We're both Point One Percentors..." Megatron mused, stroking his chin. "No one else on the Lost Light is either, correct?" he asked, staring at Rodimus for confirmation.
"Yeah. Velocity, are you sure?" Rodimus asked and frowned.
She nodded. "Mmhmm. And her spark was a shade of green."
"Now I understand why those scientists wanted to hide their work." Rodimus' brows furrowed as he gazed at the data. "They must've been using several Percentor sparks. Can you imagine fighting a whole team of those things?"
"Indeed. Speaking from experience, soldiers having a special spark makes them a dangerous double-sided sword," Megatron said. "This...complicates things a lot."
"The question now is should we keep her on the ship then? We could just boot her off on the next planet?" Rodimus suggested.
Before Megatron could reply, there was a ping from Ultra Magnus' comm. link.
"Well, Ripclaw is helping with damage to the bar," came Magnus' voice from his end. "She's...a lot stronger than she looks. She lifted a full energon tank by herself. While Swerve was standing on it."
"Ripclaw?" Rodimus repeated the name and his expression turned sour. "Who's...Ripclaw?"
"Funny story," Ultra Magnus replied in a deadpan tone. "She heard Swerve listing off the names of the drinks he won't be able to make until he could restock. 'Ripped Clawed' being one of them. She decided she liked it?"
The captains stared at one another for a few seconds.
"Yikes. She has no sense of flair." Rodimus winced at the lackluster sounding name.
"We give her some time and keep an optic on her," Megatron decided. "She hasn't done anything too wrong, considering the things some of the crew has done prior to this. "
Rodimus opened his mouth and closed it several times before begrudgingly accepting it and rolling his optics. There wasn't any real case to argue against...yet.
Anyway for all the naysayers that think Ripclaw couldn’t be a P.o.P. consider this.
Ripclaw’s techspecs.
Point one percentors:
Sixshot
Overlord
Skyshadow AKA Blackshadow
And that’s just a few examples. I’m too lazy to link them all. ok? ok.
