Title: In which Blast Off just wants to go home
Warnings: gen, accidental dismantling, comedy (probably)
Continuity: G1 [part of ultharkitty's Dysfunction AU] (pre-war, and before Blast Off met the other Combaticons)
Characters/Pairing: Blast Off, unnamed femme (Chromia), OC
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
tf_speedwritingPrompt: 3# - Attack is the best defence
Summary: Blast Off's evening goes from bad to worse.
Beta: ultharkitty
Note: For onyx17. Ages ago we had talked about Blast Off and Chromia meeting somewhere. I borrowed her characterisation from onyx17. :) Thank you.
Blast Off skimmed over the content of the datapad and his lips twitched to a minute smile. He'd finally got them. It was hard these days for him to get the newest updated celestial maps. Since he dropped out of the Deep Space Research Institute, Blast Off had to pay for them and often at prices he could hardly afford. Fortunately, though, the maps didn't change quickly, and changes like planets at war or expanding stars, unusually strong radiation or fluctuation of the same usually lasted for over a hundred decacycles, some of them even for a vorn or more.
Blast Off didn't pay attention to the dark street in Polyhex. There weren't any mechs around at this time, not in this area anyway where he had taken a room for the night. The moment he'd seen it, however, he'd regretted it. He had pondered just leaving the same night, but his customer wouldn't meet him before the following afternoon, and he had his landing permission for Iacon only for the next day. Changing it would have cost money he didn't want to spend.
His optics still on the datapad, he rounded a corner into a smaller alleyway. By accident, he ran into someone. There was a clang and an "oomph" and Blast Off stumbled a step backwards. Then he looked up, seeing two mechs, one of them holding a gun.
Oh great, he thought bitterly, he'd just ran into a hold-up.
"Hey you!" the mech with the gun trembled. He stood farther into the alleyway, and his shivering wasn't a truly reassuring fact. "Get next to her! Now!" The voice was high pitched, and apparently the mech was pretty nervous as well.
"Okay, okay…" Blast Off muttered, raising his hands like the other mech - or femme, he now realised - and stepped over to her.
"Wrong place wrong time for too you, eh?" the femme deadpanned. Blast Off didn't feel like joking. He only huffed as answer.
"Your datapad!"
Blast Off frowned but didn't move.
The armed mech jumped closer, and it looked quite frantic how he wavered with the gun. "I said your datapad! Give it to me!"
"What?"
Blast Off heard the femme chuckling softly, and he shot her a look. Either she didn't see it, or she ignored it, because there wasn't any reaction.
"Your pad! I want your pad!"
Optics flickering, Blast Off scowled. This mech was certainly on drugs, or in withdrawal or just insane. He really didn't care; he just didn't want to lose his new maps. Now he regretted that he hadn't uploaded the data straight into his processor, but he hadn't exactly expected to be attacked at the way to his motel.
"No," he said blankly, and even he could see that the armed mech was surprised by the reply.
There was another chuckle from the femme, and this time the other was angry.
The gun pointed at her, and the mech jumped another step closer, yelling, "What is so funny?! What is so funny, eh?!"
"Hey, calm down, okay? We got it, you have the gun, you're the boss." The femme grinned, and Blast Off wondered how she could stay so clam.
Even though he didn't panic, either, the tact of Blast Off's engine had changed and the pressure in his energon lines increased. He wasn't used to being robbed. And he hated things he wasn't used to.
"Yes!" The mech with the gun said, or shouted. Blast Off began to think that his vocaliser must be damaged if he lacked the ability to regulate his volume .
"I'm the boss! And I want your pad!"
"Just give him the datapad and we're out of here." The femme sighed, but Blast Off refused.
He didn't want to lose his maps, and he didn't want to be shot at.
"Your pad, your pad!" The armed mech yelled anew, stepping forward and waving his gun in Blast Off's direction.
Blast Off growled. He had enough of this nonsense.
With the last step, the armed mech just got close enough.
Blast Off grabbed his arm, punching the gun away with his other hand and losing his datapad. Both things landed with a clatter on the ground, but it didn't matter right now. The mech cried out, trying to fight back, but Blast Off was stronger. He pressed the mech on the wall and turned the other's arm.
Unfortunately in all his agitation, Blast Off miscalculated his strength, and he twisted the other's arm too much.
A scream: mechanisms and energon lines broke, while hydraulic systems gave in and Blast Off was covered with the other's fluids. Disgusted, he moved off, tripping backwards once more. His optics focused on the whining mech. He was lying against the wall, punching it with one arm, the other arm was… missing.
It was still in Blast Off's hand and he tensed, grimaced as he threw it away.
"You ripped my arm off! You ripped my arm off!" the mech cried, now scratching the wall, but not turning around.
Blast Off had no idea what he was supposed to do.
"I… not on purpose," he stuttered, confused, but he couldn't say anything more, as the femme interrupted him.
"Well, whatever big guy, you better raise your arms again."
She now had the gun - and his datapad - and seemed much more confident in handling the weapon.
Wonderful, this night couldn't get any better, Blast Off thought. He'd been robbed twice and dismantled someone by mistake. Whatever happened next couldn't be any worse.
He raised his hands again and sighed. "Can I get at least my datapad back?" His tone now resigned and defeated. He just wanted to go to his shabby room…
"Nope," the femme said and grinned. "I wouldn't know why."
The whining of the other mech became quieter, and he sacked down on the floor.
Blast Off didn't care. It didn't seem as though the femme would report this incident anyway.
"Maybe because I saved your aft?" It was a try, but Blast Off doubted that this argument would have any effect.
The femme's grin broadened. "You didn't. The gun was locked."
"Oh great," Blast Off huffed. "Then I got all this filth on me for nothing?"
"Heh, yeah seems so." The gun still pointing at him, she took a look at the pad, then frowned. "There're no credits on it…"
"Of course not, it's a datapad," Blast Off spat, condescendingly, but the femme just chuckled dryly.
"You know the word is used for almost every pad around."
"This is just stupid. Where is the use of a language which has specific terms for specific items if everyone forgets about them?" Blast Off mumbled quietly, and he began to feel stupid with his arms up in the air.
"Oh, you're one of the extremely precise guys, hm?" Her voice was amused, and she still glanced at the pad. Blast Off might have a chance to pounce and get his datapad back, then…
"Here." With that, the femme threw it to him, and he caught it, surprised. "I have no idea what that stuff is on it, but I doubt I can make money with it."
Blast Off's optics flickered in confusion.
"Oh, and just a tip. Next time you wanna play hero, try not to overdo it. You really should get rid of that energon on your plating," she said with another cheeky grin, and then vanished swiftly around the corner.
Blast Off sighed, the energon and hydraulic fluid of the other mech spurting slightly.
"Urgh…" A shiver ran down his backstruts. He glanced a last time at the mech lying on the ground. His remaining hand twitched, the optics dim, but he didn't otherwise move.
Blast Off walked past him. He should get away quickly. At least he had washracks in his small, grimy room to clean the dirt off his plating.
In two days he would be back in space, and Blast Off was really looking forward to it.