Title: First Kill
Rating: T
Summary: In which Breakdown becomes what he was always meant to be.
Characters: Breakdown, Slingshot
Notes/Warnings: AU and character death, and beta-ed by DemonSurfer :)
There was no one around, pleasing Breakdown just fine. Drag Strip would have hated that, but the yellow racer wasn't there, and Breakdown was quite the opposite of his ambitious teammate.
Slingshot stared though and this was what bothered him, those lone pair of optics projecting defiance, rage, and just a hint of humiliation against broken trees, crumpled wings, and a shivering from dangerous engines that his enemy had no intention of stilling.
Breakdown clenched his gun.
He was feeling many things, but fear wasn't one of them. He was nervous most of the time, not scared—Primus damn what everyone said— because he only felt that in the presence of his esteemed gestalt leader, but he doubted Motormaster saw a difference.
Slingshot continued to stare and Breakdown averted his gaze just a bit.
"You can't do it," he heard Motormaster say in his head. Would not be able to do the very thing he was created for, and he bet that this suspicion brought most of the blows that sent him to the medical bay every day.
But he wasn't a coward like everyone said, not like they all said. He could think of a few mechs he could easily shoot—he would not mention a certain seeker—and he could…initial hesitation aside.
He could and he would. Someday, if Slingshot would just stop staring it would be easier—
"Pathetic!" It wailed in his head like the imagined speaker himself was there to run him over, and Breakdown forced himself to straighten, to look into the Aerialbot's gaze like any respectable Decepticon should.
He thought of target practice, of unmoving figures, with painted optics that bore in all the same –this embarrassed him so much that not even his other three teammates knew—as he forced himself to shoot, move, target—they're not real, they're not looking at you stop it.
It shouldn't be that much different.
Breakdown raised his gun, placed flimsy cutout over actual target and fired.
Cool purple dripped from a messy, but recognizable little hole.
His engines quieted and Breakdown paused.
It really hadn't been much different.