Result of Chaos
by SMYGO4EVA
He ran towards the target, his blade ablaze and cast in silver. Deeper in the dark, Dreadwing curled his hands, unhinged, ready to attack.
Again, he said.
Dreadwing tilted his hand. Flame twisted, swooping in, and then his blade shorn through the target, energon pooling and searing. He inhaled: cold wind drawn in, an inverse chill. Cunning overtook wisdom in that split second.
Down, he said.
Coal dark optics aflare, he traced a spiral of freshly spilt lifeblood upon his sword, and then struck it down onto the cold ground, splintering the surface.
Stop, he said.
Exhaling a long-awaited vent, Soundwave stepped forward and put a servo upon Dreadwing's shoulder, surveying the training session. He nodded to the Seeker, seeing the coal optics flicker red and then black.
Even if he never understood him, they were backwards compatible, in a way that was unfathomable, yet necessary.
It was a result of chaos.
My turn, Soundwave replied.
