Title: What I See In You
Summary: Contrasts can be an ugly thing, but Dead End and Drag Strip make it work.
Rating: T
Continuity: G1
Characters: Drag Strip, Dead End, and the other Stunticons in one or two sentence cameos.
Notes/Warnings: References to abuse, and character death. This takes place in the same universe as my other story "In Memoriam" but is a separate story.
"They fragging won." Drag Strip was not so injured that he needed to see the Constructicons, but not so unscathed that he didn't spend the next two hours scrubbing at a persistent mark on his paintjob.
"Of course they did." Dead End is waiting for him by the open door, tone drier than the desert. "We have monitor duty in a bit."
"You don't care?" The racer himself does not care on a whole, only that Air Raid smashed him into the ground during the scuffle.
The Porsche eyes the black mark on yellow, goes over and takes the cloth to start rubbing in rhythmic circles that do a far better job than his teammate had been. "No I don't."
-u-
Monitor duty is boring and long. Drag Strip sits and sneers, Dead End simply reads.
"Would you stop that?" He raises his head as Drag Strip makes a disparaging comment towards the cassette twins dumping a pile of feathers onto Ramjet.
"I'm lightening the mood." As far as Dead End is concerned there isn't a mood to lighten.
"Why? It's nothing special or out of the ordinary."
Drag Strip makes a face and kicks at his chair, which rolls and hits the console lightly before bouncing back. Dead End is careful not to react, not to give in to the seeking of satisfaction.
"You're such a killjoy." Drag Strip turns and scoffs, going back to the light of the monitors.
-u-
At night he joins the underground races, tints his windows enough so the humans don't know there isn't a driver in him. He wins every time and it soon becomes pointless, but he goes anyways because he needs it so much.
Dead End doesn't care. Drag Strip wishes he didn't.
"It must be so fragging easy," he snaps one day, "Primus hope that you're the last one alive when it all goes to the pit."
There is a stall in Breakdown's engines, while Wildrider looks back between them and fidgets. Dead End doesn't do anything and just stares before leaving.
At night there is the sickening feeling of what could be labelled regret in his fuel takes. He says nothing.
-u-
If there is one thing to be said about Drag Strip, it is that the sheer amount of punishment that he can take and keep on going is nothing short of psychotic (or admirable, but Decepticons don't do admiration).
Dead End visits him alone, and before any of the others. The racer looks surprised; he supposes he should be after last night.
"It'd be easier if you never fought back." Dead End doesn't know why he says this, he already knows the answer.
Drag Strip doesn't say it, but Dead End looks upon the grim determination and thinks Drag Strip was wrong. If came down to only one of them surviving, it would not be him. He knows this truly.
-u-
They lose. Dead End always said they would. Drag Strip could laugh, but he thinks Motormaster would hit him harder than usual, so he doesn't.
Starscream's coronation is painful for the simple fact that no one wants to be there, no one wants him in charge. There is talk that Shockwave will try to seize control, but this is not what Drag Strip focuses on when he whispers, "You were right."
Starscream starts his speech and Dead End responds without moving. "So what?"
"You're not happy?" Drag Strip is just a tad irritated.
"It was obvious from the beginning. There is nothing to be happy about."
They watch the crown placed on Starscream's head, and for once they can agree.
-u-
The Decepticon Empire does not just hit rock bottom; it breaks the ground and keeps on going. Whether it will hit the second tier soon and stop doesn't seem certain, but Dead End knows (like he always has) that it won't.
Breakdown and Wildrider die. He accepts this, Drag Strip doesn't.
"Do you fragging care now?" the yellow racer directs misplaced anger onto him. Dead End looks at him and when he speaks his voice says everything.
"Do you really want to know?" Because accepting it, doesn't mean liking it.
"Yeah," Drag strip kicks a wall, "I really do."
Dead End doesn't respond. Just sits, watching his teammate's blunt rejection of life, contrasting with his own harsh acceptance of reality.
-u-
Motormaster goes next and Drag Strip's feelings on this are so mixed that he doesn't try sorting them out, merely thinks on how royally fragged Starscream has made everything and brings back an incident that happened not so long ago. He figures the triple changers and the Combaticons had the right idea.
He finds Dead End in the hallway, at night and alone though never safe, but he doesn't think Soundwave cares anymore. He puts all the assurance and finality he has in the words. "I'm leaving with or without you. You coming?"
To his relief, Dead End meets him at the exit bay and asks, "You're ready?"
No he isn't. He doesn't think he ever will be again.
"Yeah."
-u-
Dead End has never been the type to hold on. He doesn't believe in clinging to that which will inevitably fade away.
That was Drag Strip's specialty, which probably makes it worse for the fact that now he's dying and the racer doesn't want this, but by primus he can't change it. Dead End's natural affinity for acceptance should make losing his last teammate easy.
Because they say his apathy has always been just that. He wasn't built to care.
This is not the first time the masses have been wrong.
"I suppose when I go, you'll tell me what it's like." It's cold, but Drag Strip understands and Dead End grips his hand until death comes and finally takes.
-u-
He doesn't feel the missile so much as he feels it throw him. The pain only comes after he realizes his legs are laying beside him, and when that happens he feels his pump skip a beat with the knowledge of you're going to die and there's nothing you can do about it.
Dead End is beside him and Drag Strip thinks back to what he said so long ago and oh primus he didn't mean it like this. But he won't go out weak, so he utters a curse instead, which is a decent summation of the entire situation.
His teammate speaks and Drag Strip could just hit him, but he makes a mental note to memorize everything anyways.
-u-
When Dead End goes he goes painful, but quiet. Fitting, and he doesn't have it in him to be perturbed as he lay on the ground contemplating everything that lead him to that point and—
He hears something. Doesn't see it, because his vision is fading and he can still feel his chest leaking, but he hears and it's not a thing of this world. It multiples into a quartet of voices, but the loudest one speaks in a call of, "About fragging time."
In it holds the promise of things to be told. Dead End has never liked holding on, he was always one to just take it and go.
He hears the voices getting louder, and he goes.