Traditional disclaimer: The coneheads and all other Transformers that make an appearance don't belong to me. I make diddly-squat for my stories, it's purely an ego thing. This fic is complete and utter silliness as the sequel to "Love Maulings," a fic that is complete and utter silliness in its own rights. Luna gets major kudos for this work, just as she's received for the others- I wouldn't be able to write it without her help.
Ripples of heat shimmered over the desert sand, sending all manners of mobile life scrambling for dens and holes to sleep in until the sun passed its zenith and the night brought cooler air. All manners of mobile life, that is, sans one. The intense temperature was being completely ignored by the deep blue Seeker and tan Combaticon jeep currently standing alone in the middle of the desert, loudly haggling over the price of something. After much debate, macho posturing and insult slinging, a price was finally set and the jeep gleefully tore off across the dunes, leaving the jet to wait in the uncomfortable climate.
A few minutes in the hot sun, Dirge didn't mind too much. Several hours out in it, and he was starting to get rather annoyed. The sun's rays terrorized the arid land, pounding down in waves of heat that would likely kill a human and were more than a passing irritation for a Transformer. Dirge was beginning to seriously consider giving up and going home after waiting for what felt like eons. He was exasperated by the slight wind currently making little dervishes and dust devils around his ankles, particularly when he heard the little "ting, ting" noise the sand was making as it hit his body. Enough exposure to that was bound to do a number on his finish. While not vain, Dirge was prone to being quite particular about the state of his bodywork and he didn't care for the small scratches accumulating on his wings. Although insignificant, the drag those scratches produced would drive him nuts. A much larger dust cloud rose on the horizon, roaring as it did so, which indicated the return of the Combaticon. Swindle skidded to a halt, transformed, and offered the jet a rather abused-looking little crate.
Dirge stared at the box skeptically. "Well," he asked testily, "does it work?"
"Of course it works. Check it yourself."
"Then you won't mind if I test it on you," Dirge snarled, wary of Swindle's notorious business practices.
The smaller Decepticon backed away, hands up in a placating gesture. "I assure you, Dirge, it works perfectly. Go ahead and test it- on the box, if you'd be so kind- if you don't believe me."
Dirge glowered and opened the crate, briefly testing his purchase before he was satisfied. "Alright, Swindle, this'll do." He reluctantly offered his payment of long-hoarded energon resin, which was quickly snatched from his hand by Swindle, as if the dealer was afraid Dirge might still change his mind.
"Lovely doing business with you," Swindle said cheerfully, turning and disappearing in a squealing cloud of sand and gravel. Dirge shoved the package into subspace, grumbling.
"Extortionist," he growled, transforming and heading back for base. He sighed as he entered his triad's quarters. Thrust was there, just back from the repair bay after the rather spectacular beating he'd received from Dirge. Dirge hadn't been happy after Thrust locked both Dirge and a very amorous Ramjet in their room while Thrust went and cowered somewhere else. Ramjet apparently had decided to get himself cleaned up and was nowhere to be seen.
"We're going to keep the Constructicons in jokes for millennia," Thrust complained when his wingmate returned, involuntarily flinching at Dirge's presence.
"You deserved what you got, and you know it." Dirge retrieved his parcel from subspace, carefully prying open the box.
Thrust wandered over to watch over his shoulder, curious. "What's that?"
"My new toy," Dirge replied, smirking evilly.
Thrust backed away, optics wide. "You really, really scare me when you do that," he informed his companion warily.
Dirge chuckled ominously and held up his new 'toy'- a welding torch. He flicked it on, pleased at the flame that quickly belched out. "Thrust, hold out your arm for a moment."
"Why?" Thrust did as he was told, confused. Dirge reached over and tested the torch on him, leaving a scorched spot on Thrust's paint and heating the metal below. Thrust jerked his arm away, startled. "Ow! What was that for?"
"Just making sure it works."
"…And what are you planning to do with it?" he asked warily, backing away.
"Oh, it's not intended for you, don't worry. When Ramjet gets back, you grab him, and I'll weld."
Ramjet was in a remarkably good mood. First of all, he'd gotten some, which was never a bad thing. Then, he'd managed to catch Scavenger in the med bay, rather than one of the more uncooperative Constructicons, so he hadn't been made fun of, either. Granted, Dirge was going to be ticked at him for a while, but Dirge was always ticked off about something. Might as well make it something fun, as far as Ramjet was concerned. He keyed the door to his trine's quarters and entered, bothered for some reason by how dark it was. A pair of hands landed on his arm and he was yanked sideways, shoved up against the bulkhead, and unceremoniously pinned there. Rather than a squawk of protest, Ramjet found himself laughing.
"Thrust, you ran away before… Did you finally decide you wanted what I had to offer after all?" Ramjet snickered, grinning impudently at his bondmate who was giving him the strangest of looks.
"No, Thrust is still a coward and wouldn't otherwise come close," Dirge said, announcing his presence. Ramjet's attention snapped towards the dark jet who was currently lurking in the shadows. Dirge shut the door, locking it. "He and I have arranged an intervention, you see," he continued.
Ramjet found himself staring at the morbid jet, completely baffled.
Dirge sighed as his chance for drama was shot down in a ball of flames. "We're sick of you beating us up, Ramjet, so we're going to do something about that."
"Ohh." Ramjet sniggered. "So you're going to beat me up to get back at me for beating you up?"
"Simple retaliation defeats the purpose. No, we intend to teach you a lesson you'll be loathe to forget." Dirge smirked and held up the welding iron, tip glowing red in the dark.
"Um… what's that?"
"A welding iron."
"Well yeah, I see that. What're you going to use it for?"
"To weld you to the wall, Ramjet."
"But that'll hurt."
"Yes. Excruciating, I'm sure."
"But I like pain."
"That's why I'm going to give you this nice painkiller first," Dirge said, sounding almost cheerful as he administered the anesthetic. Ramjet struggled against Thrust's hold, but Thrust had long since dug in and was leaning all of his weight on the black and white jet. Coupled with Ramjet's utter lack of leverage against the wall, he found himself stuck and suddenly numbed to all sensation as the analgesic took effect and blocked all sensory stimuli. Ramjet felt himself starting to panic- there was nothing he hated more than sensory deprivation- but he forced himself to stay calm. I can take this, he thought, biting back a growl of frustration as he continued to scrabble for purchase against the wall, but with no avail. They're just being bootlegs, that's all.
Dirge spent several hours making certain Ramjet was securely welded spread-eagle to the wall. It was a very messy weld job that looked hideous and likely felt worse, but it held fast against all of Ramjet's struggling. The blue jet finished and stood back, annoyed at how unprofessional and downright ugly the weld job was. However, he couldn't help but feel rather pleased with himself when he saw that his plan was working.
"Alright, I've learned my lesson, you can let me down now," Ramjet said, tugging at his bonds half-heartedly, knowing it was a futile move. All he could do was turn his head, and even that motion was somewhat restricted by his air intakes.
Dirge shook his head. "Ohhh, no, you're staying up there for a while."
"I've already been up here for three hours!"
"Not long enough, Ramjet." Dirge glanced over at Thrust. "Up for a round of Magic?" Thrust grinned and went to get the cards while Dirge righted the furniture that had been overturned in his mad dash to escape Ramjet earlier. The two settled down to play, discussing the game and whatever else came to mind, completely ignoring Ramjet. The temporarily immobilized mech glowered at them, determined to wait them out in silence. Up until now, they'd at least been touching him, but the tactile jet was certain he could survive without the contact.
He lasted roughly fifteen minutes before he started to whimper a little, struggling vainly to get loose.
Fifteen minutes later, he was loudly protesting his unfair position.
Within an hour, he was begging, pleading, bribing, and even promising the two anything they wanted if they'd only let him down. Dirge and Thrust completely ignored him. Thrust occasionally snickered, though Ramjet wasn't sure if he was laughing at him or at the game. Ramjet watched the game, for lack of anything else to do, still begging to be set free all the while.
"I win," Dirge calmly announced, setting down his final card which 'killed' Thrust.
"No fair, you cheated! You always win!" Thrust protested.
"I always win because I actually make use of my mind. You should try it sometime."
Thrust glowered. "You've got cards in subspace that you keep slipping into your hand, or something, I just know it."
"What, you want to check my subspace pockets now?" Dirge shook his head. "You're really something, Thrust."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That you're a sore loser who doesn't know when to shut up."
Thrust glowered, fuming, while Dirge put the game away.
They continued shooting dark looks at one another for several hours, before Dirge finally sighed loudly and shot his mate a pointed look. "You're not done pouting yet, are you?"
"Nope."
"Oh, for the love of- come here," Dirge grumbled, patting the berth in invitation.
Thrust smirked. "You usually hold out longer than that," he remarked.
"Yes, but we have a captive audience that needs to be taught a lesson."
Thrust's smirk widened at that. "You're right, we do!" he said cheerfully, playfully tackling Dirge, who yelped in protest.
Ramjet moaned, struggling with all his might against the welds holding him prisoner. Dirge had done a good job; they didn't budge. The black and white jet settled for pathetic whimpering as he watched his bondmates snuggle in front of him, unable to join in or do anything else, for that matter.
Ramjet hadn't realized he'd slipped offline until he heard urgent, hushed voices discussing something somewhere nearby. His optics flickered on and he focused on Dirge and Thrust, busily debating. Thrust was still sitting on the berth, while Dirge was standing, hands on his hips, his back to Ramjet. It was the 'scolding posture' Surestrike so often had taken when yelling at Ramjet and Melee. Ramjet sighed fondly at the memory. Hearing the sigh, Dirge whipped around, realizing Ramjet was awake.
"Will you let me down now? I'll be careful from now on, I promise!"
Dirge and Thrust exchanged glances, before saying 'no' in unison.
"I rather like you up there," Dirge explained.
"And Xoanon would approve," Thrust added.
"Xoanon thought you were pretty. He had no taste," Ramjet chimed in. Thrust raised a hand to smack him, but Dirge grabbed his arm, shaking his head. Ramjet couldn't help but feel disappointed. "Besides, Nepenthe's the one that stuck people to walls," Ramjet continued.
"He stuck them in walls," Dirge corrected primly.
"Well, yes, if you want to be picky." Ramjet sighed. "I'm sure our long-dead bondmates would love that you're both dabbling in the arts. Now get me down!"
"Hmph. You're off-duty for the next forty-six hours. You're not going anywhere," Dirge told him coolly. "Enjoy your day."
"Wait! You're just going to leave me here and go to work?"
"Why, do you need a nurse?"
Ramjet scowled at Dirge's snide remark. "Fine. Go. I can handle this."
"Good to hear, because we fully intend to leave you there until what's left of your sanity cracks," Dirge said, in a tone that would pass as 'gleeful' for him. Ramjet gaped as both his mates left, flipping off the lights and locking the door, leaving Ramjet in total darkness. It was going to be a long day.
"I feel absolutely disgusting."
"Well, I warned you about teleporting when there are birds around."
"That flock of geese came out of nowhere!"
Ramjet stirred, frowning. From time to time, the trine could hear their neighbors- Skywarp and Thundercracker- through the walls. Normally, they chose to ignore whatever was going on next door. However, after being largely ignored for easily twenty hours, at least twelve of which were passed in utter silence, Ramjet couldn't help but eavesdrop, just wanting to hear a voice that wasn't his own. It was better than listening to the flow of electricity through the walls, anyway.
"Ugh, you're getting bird bits all over the place."
"They seem to be wedged into every fragging opening on my body, Thundercracker," Skywarp hissed testily, obviously frustrated with the mess he'd gotten himself into. "I'm open to suggestions."
"Take a shower?" Thundercracker sounded equally frustrated, along with completely disgusted by the state Skywarp was in. He pointed at the cleanser setup. "That's why we have that, you know."
"Oh, shut up."
Jets tended to be rather particular about their appearance, mostly out of the vanity that seemed programmed into all Seekers, but also because keeping clean made good sense. It was hard to fly with assorted debris hanging off of one's wings and creating drag, after all. As a result, most of the Seekers in the Decepticon base had a chemical cleanser system set up in their quarters, using it whenever they'd ended up particularly filthy on duty. However, Thundercracker was usually reasonably willing to do most of Skywarp's maintenance himself, so Skywarp rarely used their system, if at all. That was made obvious by the muffled cursing coming from the black and lavender jet as he tried to remember how it worked.
"It is not that complicated," Thundercracker scolded, stomping over to turn it on for the frustrated Skywarp.
"Like I ever use it. You normally do this stuff."
"I'm not touching you when you're covered in all that."
"Nice to know I'm loved."
Ramjet snickered, loudly. There was a long silence in the other room.
"That sounded like Ramjet," Thundercracker said softly after a moment.
"Shouldn't he be on duty?"
"I thought he was." Another pause, this time longer. "No, he's off-duty for a while."
"Weird. Usually those three take time off together."
"Speaking of 'time off,' we're almost out of it. Get cleaned up before you drip any more bird bits on the floor."
"Geesh, you're picky," Skywarp teased. He headed over to the cleanser, rinsing off most of the carnage from his literal run-in with a flock of migrating geese. "There, I'm clean."
"You're still covered in feathers," Thundercracker remarked blandly.
Ramjet utterly lost it at that particular mental image, cracking up. Once again, there was silence next door. He strained to hear them, pressing an audio to the wall. There was a brief flash and Skywarp was standing in front of him, arms folded across his canopy.
"Eavesdropping isn't very polite, you know. I should-" Skywarp paused, his expression shifting to one of complete mirth. "-I should get a picture of this!" he crowed, laughing. Ramjet was mortified. What Skywarp knew, the whole base knew. Skywarp disappeared, reappearing momentarily with a startled Thundercracker in tow. The light blue jet stared a moment before starting to snicker as well.
"Oh, shut up," Ramjet grumbled, pointedly not looking at them.
"In all honesty, I'm surprised this didn't happen vorns ago," Skywarp gasped out between giggles. He held up a small camera. "Smile, Ramjet!"
Ramjet's optics widened in surprise as the camera flashed. He recognized that camera… "Get out, Skywarp, and take them with you," Ramjet growled, finally glaring at the pair of jets and Reflector, the latter of which was still happily taking pictures of Ramjet's predicament.
"Just wait until everybody hears about this!"
"OUT."
"Yeah, yeah, we're leaving. We've got to go back on duty anyway."
"Ohh, this has so much potential for blackmail purposes!" Reflector said to no one in particular, still snapping away.
"Skywarp! Go away!"
The lavender jet winked, grabbed Thundercracker, and disappeared, Reflector still in his hand.
"He is so dead when I get my hands on him," Ramjet hissed, renewing his efforts to break free. The welding held fast, though, and Ramjet sagged against the wall, spent.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Ramjet looked up, listening, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. It didn't take long to realize the dripping was coming from next door.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
His optic twitched.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"There is no slagging way…"
Drip.
He did his best to ignore the dripping next door. He tried humming, talking to himself, and did everything he could think of to tune it out before finally switching off his audios in frustration.
Drip.
Drip.
Even with his audios turned off, he could still hear it. It would be a long day, indeed…
It took less than a half hour for nearly every single Decepticon on base to either hear what happened from Skywarp or see pictures of it (for a price) from Reflector. Dirge and Thrust were mortified- what had begun as simple retaliation had quickly turned into the most popular gossip on base. Both Skywarp and Reflector were perfectly willing to sell the triad the pictures, of course, rather than giving them to, say, Soundwave or Megatron. Dirge figured the leaders already knew, so he wasn't about to part with any of his hoarded energon to buy back their dignity. Well, buy back Ramjet's dignity, which Dirge didn't particularly care about, anyway. Once he got past the realization that everyone knew what happened, he was rather amused with it all. Several of the others were quite impressed that Dirge and Thrust had managed to weld the so-called "Terror of the Skies" to the wall.
"We've got to get him down," Thrust insisted, tugging on Dirge's arm impatiently. "Before Megatron comes looking for him and shoots all three of us!"
Dirge sighed. "Fine, but don't come whimpering to me the next time Ramjet nearly mauls you to death." The two jets headed back to their quarters, surprised to see Ramjet struggling still and writhing as if in pain, muttering to himself about making the dripping stop.
"Um… Ramjet?" Thrust ventured, staring in shock. Ramjet didn't respond, so Thrust walked up to him, reaching up and stroking an intake gently. "Ramjet? You okay?"
Ramjet's head snapped up, staring back at Thrust, optics feverish-bright. "Make it stop!" he begged.
"…Make what stop?"
"The dripping! Something is dripping over in Skywarp and Thundercracker's quarters!"
"Hoo boy." Thrust shook his head a little. "You didn't actually want him to snap, did you, Dirge?"
"Not precisely, no." Dirge frowned as Thrust started tugging at Ramjet's arm, as if he could break the bonds that had held Ramjet still for so long.
"Come on, Dirge! Help me!"
Dirge didn't bother to tell Thrust that he had no idea how to get their bondmate down. He instead silently called the Constructicons, assuming they knew about the situation already. It was probably better to let them make their snarky comments now, when Ramjet was babbling unintelligibly and wasn't in his right mind, than later when Ramjet would end up getting into a fight and summarily being stepped on by Devastator. As fate would have it, Bonecrusher and Mixmaster showed up. Dirge cringed a little, having been hoping for Scavenger, but a Constructicon was a Constructicon. Some were just more polite and tactful than the others.
Bonecrusher immediately started to laugh. Mixmaster joined in, but Mixmaster frequently had fits of giggles anyway, so Dirge could more readily ignore him.
"Shock! Someone took my advice for once?" Bonecrusher finally managed once his guffawing died down. "Though that doesn't change that it's an ugly weld job."
Dirge glowered.
"I'm sure I can whip up some acid to get him down," Mixmaster suggested, his grin slightly off-balance.
Ramjet immediately started struggling and yelling incoherently. "No! No more liquid! No more, please!" he cried out, optics bright with fear.
Mixmaster unintentionally took a step back. "What have you been doing to him?" the chemist asked curiously, looking over at Dirge.
The jet shrugged. "Welded him up and left him there. Apparently there's a drip in the next room he was hearing."
Bonecrusher collapsed into another chortling fit. Dirge ignored him, choosing to wait out the demolitionist in silence.
"If he won't let Mixmaster acid him down, I'll just take some of the wall out," Bonecrusher said once he finally regained control. "Then take him up to the bay to cut him loose."
"Isn't there another option?" Dirge asked.
"Not without detaching him from all the welded-down armor and leaving it there," Bonecrusher said with a grin. "As trophies."
Dirge sighed. "Fine, take out the wall." He'd rather the Constructicons left as soon as possible.
It took very little time for the demolitionist to isolate and remove the portion of wall Ramjet was welded to. The two Constructicons disappeared, Ramjet in tow, debating how to best remove Ramjet in tech-speak Dirge didn't quite follow. Thrust looked relieved that Ramjet would soon be freed- he hadn't been fond of Dirge's plan in the first place, anyway- and was currently hanging off of Dirge's arm.
"Thrust, let go."
"Why?"
"Has it occurred to you that a portion of our wall is currently gone?"
"Yeah, so?"
Dirge only pointed at the glowering Thundercracker across the way. Thrust visibly shrank back, quickly letting go of Dirge.
"You two had better not be up to anything while the wall is gone," Dirge called over, returning the glare with all the venom he could summon.
"The same goes for you!" Thundercracker shouted, bristling.
"I wish I'd had time to stuff Ramjet full of goose…" Skywarp sighed. It was obvious the lack of wall wasn't affecting him as much as it was bothering both Thundercracker and Dirge. Both jets were fiercely private, and were extremely annoyed at the current situation. Thrust didn't seem to mind as much, but Dirge's discomfort led to his own, so he was putting up an air of annoyance as well.
Dirge shook his head and turned, intending to find something to do that didn't involve swapping insults with his neighbors. It was going to be a long, long day…