Radio Silence
folder
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,928
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,928
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Hasbro or Transformers or Michael Bay (though that would be fun). I don't make any money doing this. At all. Seriously. You can probably see why.
Desert
Starscream rebooted to pain. He forced himself to gather memories. Sunrise, with Jennifer. All of the cascading sensation of that night. Then, he’d picked up some radio chatter about him. Which had reminded him that he’d promised to handle those who were bothering her, but hadn’t had time. No time like the present, he had thought, and rocketed after them. The first wing of fighters had been an amusement, but the second wing…well. He dispatched them as well, but they'd somehow managed to nail him—hard—with a high explosive round to the head that had knocked him cold. He remembered a spinning plummet to the ground.
And then this. He tried to move. At first he felt a panic of paralysis when nothing seemed to move. Until he managed to lift his head and see that he was bound. He tried to fire his engines, heard the ignition click, but….. Nothing. Someone or something had disabled ignition. Not the fall. He tried comm—out. Even all-channels. The likelihood of that ‘accidentally’ getting damaged was infinitesimal. The sky was a bruised color—the sun rising again? Or setting? How long had he been out? He struggled against the cables binding his wrists over his head. His engines grated against sand, still warm from the day. Must be evening. Sunset. He’d been out the whole daycycle.
When the night was starting to fade, he heard an approaching engine. He had mixed emotions about this. Possibly a rescue. Possibly, though, not.
Footsteps approached. Large heavy. Not a human. He turned his head. “Ironhide?”
“Yeah. Ironhide.” The Autobot sneered down at him. “Like you like this, you know that?”
Starscream struggled against his bonds. “You are a warrior, as I am,” he bargained. “Let us settle this as warriors then. Surely you can see that this is…undignified.”
“I like you undignified,” the bot retorted. He squatted down by the jet’s head. “Not used to having others look down at you, are you?”
“It is,” he admitted, “a novel experience.”
“Oh, I’ve got bunches of ‘novel experiences’ planned for you,” the Autobot said. “Spent all day thinking of them.”
“Then I suppose that they are not particularly original,” the jet retorted, though he knew he didn’t have much besides bluster.
“You want to see? Okay.” Ironhide kicked him in the head, hard enough to blank his optics for a moment. Starscream felt his facial plates crack.
He spat. “Unoriginal.”
The bot threw himself on the jet straddling his broad torso. “How’s this?” He jammed his fingers into sensitive nodes under the jet’s tied-upraised arms. Starscream writhed in pain, his legs fighting against their own cables. “More original?”
“Yes!” Starscream gasped. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why? Because I’m an Autobot and you’re a filthy ‘con, for one thing. For another, you…” he punched the jet on the armor above his spark chamber, making the jet shriek in pain, “sicken…me.”
“How? What have I done?” He writhed desperately, trying to get the Autobot off his chassis. He heard the pleading in his voice. He begged too much, he realized. Too easily. He would not beg. Not this time.
“What have you done? You and your filthy fucking xeno ways? Bad enough, right? Then you gotta spread that sickness to Optimus?”
Starscream blinked. “Optimus has a xeno?”
Ironhide punched him again. “He’d better fucking NOT. But he wants one. Your fault.”
An acid retort boiled on Starscream’s lips, but he swallowed it. “The xeno does not suffer,” he said. “I am not hurting humans.”
“I. Don’t. Care!” Ironhide rose to his feet and kicked Starscream in his rib struts. “It is unnatural. It is filth.”
Barricade, Starscream thought. Barricade would know what to say. He could talk his way out of just about anything. Or into it. But the jet knew he wasn’t good at this. All he could do would be take Ironhide’s beating. And hope the damn bot got tired or sloppy and he could escape. He twisted the cables experimentally, trying to get them to stretch or fray.
“No one gets hurt,” he repeated, softly.
“I don’t care who does or doesn’t. It’s disgusting!” He tore open the jet’s interface hatch, snatching up his module. “This is disgusting. You’ve fucked a human with this, haven’t you?” He tightened his hand around it, hard enough to make the jet wince. “Haven’t you?!”
“I have.”
“You filthy, disgusting, FUCK,” Ironhide tore the module away ripping the connector cables.
Starscream screamed, as if the pain were a mass he could only expel through his mouth, that would never end. His whole sensor net flared red. Alarm signals pinged on two different systems. Ironhide turned and threw the module as far as he could. “And now,” he said, opening his own hatch.
And then this. He tried to move. At first he felt a panic of paralysis when nothing seemed to move. Until he managed to lift his head and see that he was bound. He tried to fire his engines, heard the ignition click, but….. Nothing. Someone or something had disabled ignition. Not the fall. He tried comm—out. Even all-channels. The likelihood of that ‘accidentally’ getting damaged was infinitesimal. The sky was a bruised color—the sun rising again? Or setting? How long had he been out? He struggled against the cables binding his wrists over his head. His engines grated against sand, still warm from the day. Must be evening. Sunset. He’d been out the whole daycycle.
When the night was starting to fade, he heard an approaching engine. He had mixed emotions about this. Possibly a rescue. Possibly, though, not.
Footsteps approached. Large heavy. Not a human. He turned his head. “Ironhide?”
“Yeah. Ironhide.” The Autobot sneered down at him. “Like you like this, you know that?”
Starscream struggled against his bonds. “You are a warrior, as I am,” he bargained. “Let us settle this as warriors then. Surely you can see that this is…undignified.”
“I like you undignified,” the bot retorted. He squatted down by the jet’s head. “Not used to having others look down at you, are you?”
“It is,” he admitted, “a novel experience.”
“Oh, I’ve got bunches of ‘novel experiences’ planned for you,” the Autobot said. “Spent all day thinking of them.”
“Then I suppose that they are not particularly original,” the jet retorted, though he knew he didn’t have much besides bluster.
“You want to see? Okay.” Ironhide kicked him in the head, hard enough to blank his optics for a moment. Starscream felt his facial plates crack.
He spat. “Unoriginal.”
The bot threw himself on the jet straddling his broad torso. “How’s this?” He jammed his fingers into sensitive nodes under the jet’s tied-upraised arms. Starscream writhed in pain, his legs fighting against their own cables. “More original?”
“Yes!” Starscream gasped. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why? Because I’m an Autobot and you’re a filthy ‘con, for one thing. For another, you…” he punched the jet on the armor above his spark chamber, making the jet shriek in pain, “sicken…me.”
“How? What have I done?” He writhed desperately, trying to get the Autobot off his chassis. He heard the pleading in his voice. He begged too much, he realized. Too easily. He would not beg. Not this time.
“What have you done? You and your filthy fucking xeno ways? Bad enough, right? Then you gotta spread that sickness to Optimus?”
Starscream blinked. “Optimus has a xeno?”
Ironhide punched him again. “He’d better fucking NOT. But he wants one. Your fault.”
An acid retort boiled on Starscream’s lips, but he swallowed it. “The xeno does not suffer,” he said. “I am not hurting humans.”
“I. Don’t. Care!” Ironhide rose to his feet and kicked Starscream in his rib struts. “It is unnatural. It is filth.”
Barricade, Starscream thought. Barricade would know what to say. He could talk his way out of just about anything. Or into it. But the jet knew he wasn’t good at this. All he could do would be take Ironhide’s beating. And hope the damn bot got tired or sloppy and he could escape. He twisted the cables experimentally, trying to get them to stretch or fray.
“No one gets hurt,” he repeated, softly.
“I don’t care who does or doesn’t. It’s disgusting!” He tore open the jet’s interface hatch, snatching up his module. “This is disgusting. You’ve fucked a human with this, haven’t you?” He tightened his hand around it, hard enough to make the jet wince. “Haven’t you?!”
“I have.”
“You filthy, disgusting, FUCK,” Ironhide tore the module away ripping the connector cables.
Starscream screamed, as if the pain were a mass he could only expel through his mouth, that would never end. His whole sensor net flared red. Alarm signals pinged on two different systems. Ironhide turned and threw the module as far as he could. “And now,” he said, opening his own hatch.