Treat or trick?
Oct. 31st, 2009 08:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swordageHappy Halloween! I have a treat, no trick: somewhere between classes and midterms and sleep debt I've managed to find the time to work on a story. At this rate I may have it done by my birthday, but in the meantime have a sample, just a taste...
Series: Transformers (movie-verse, draws from G1 and Animated)
Rating: PG
The ground was still steaming when they arrived, the comfortable cool of late Canadian autumn condensing even more vapor in great billowing clouds. Prowl couldn't tell if the interstellar form was still at the landing site through the haze of fog and lingering heat from atmospheric entry. There was no response to his pings, no identifying databurst. Just ominous silence. Either a Decepticon, too injured to identify himself, or gone - the possibilities were not promising.
"Sideswipe, perimeter," Prowl said shortly, standing and giving his tires a quick shake to knock off the half-frozen mud. "Ironhide, Ratchet, fan out."
Sideswipe rolled off almost silently, four wheels compressing the dusting of snow with a faint creak. Ratchet and Ironhide stood, quietly moving through the sparse underbrush on either side of the road, flanking the impact site.
It was ugly. The Cybertronian had the misfortune of being perfectly aligned with the road; the angle of reentry had plowed him through a third of a hic of pavement. He'd sustained damage even before entering the atmosphere, though - plating was melted in places, circuits sparking dangerously. He showed no sign of life other than that.
"Ratchet?" Prowl commed. He could feel his compatriots' EM fields in perfect formation around the newcomer, Sideswipe a distant tingle. He considered, then called Sideswipe back in. No sense in having him patrolling when the only potential enemy was right before them.
"Something's wrong, aside from the obvious injuries," Ratchet murmured over the unit frequency. "Most of the primary systems are duplicated. And he isn't responding to my scans."
Sideswipe stopped beside Prowl, standing up with a minimum of noise. "It looks wrong," he commed thoughtfully. "Aerodynamic, but..."
The hot metal shuddered. All four of them tensed, waiting anxiously. Prowl could see the faint glow of Ironhide's readied cannon to his left, particles shedding from its core and rising on the thermal eddies. The unidentified Cybertronian let out a low moan, sparked motionlessly for a moment, then split along an unnoticed seam.
"Oh, slag," Ratchet grumbled between them. "There's two."
Series: Transformers (movie-verse, draws from G1 and Animated)
Rating: PG
The ground was still steaming when they arrived, the comfortable cool of late Canadian autumn condensing even more vapor in great billowing clouds. Prowl couldn't tell if the interstellar form was still at the landing site through the haze of fog and lingering heat from atmospheric entry. There was no response to his pings, no identifying databurst. Just ominous silence. Either a Decepticon, too injured to identify himself, or gone - the possibilities were not promising.
"Sideswipe, perimeter," Prowl said shortly, standing and giving his tires a quick shake to knock off the half-frozen mud. "Ironhide, Ratchet, fan out."
Sideswipe rolled off almost silently, four wheels compressing the dusting of snow with a faint creak. Ratchet and Ironhide stood, quietly moving through the sparse underbrush on either side of the road, flanking the impact site.
It was ugly. The Cybertronian had the misfortune of being perfectly aligned with the road; the angle of reentry had plowed him through a third of a hic of pavement. He'd sustained damage even before entering the atmosphere, though - plating was melted in places, circuits sparking dangerously. He showed no sign of life other than that.
"Ratchet?" Prowl commed. He could feel his compatriots' EM fields in perfect formation around the newcomer, Sideswipe a distant tingle. He considered, then called Sideswipe back in. No sense in having him patrolling when the only potential enemy was right before them.
"Something's wrong, aside from the obvious injuries," Ratchet murmured over the unit frequency. "Most of the primary systems are duplicated. And he isn't responding to my scans."
Sideswipe stopped beside Prowl, standing up with a minimum of noise. "It looks wrong," he commed thoughtfully. "Aerodynamic, but..."
The hot metal shuddered. All four of them tensed, waiting anxiously. Prowl could see the faint glow of Ironhide's readied cannon to his left, particles shedding from its core and rising on the thermal eddies. The unidentified Cybertronian let out a low moan, sparked motionlessly for a moment, then split along an unnoticed seam.
"Oh, slag," Ratchet grumbled between them. "There's two."