I own none of these characters except for Spitfyre aka Cadence
Tolliver, and Stunner, Taffy Carantini. Hasbro, and whoever else own
the rest of the bunch, I just brung them out to play for a little
while.
"Dang it!" she said as calmly as she could. "I just got finished talking to them...they told me to call you."
"Well, ma'am, there's nothing we can do until you talk to them."
"I just told you. I just talked to them. They told me to call you."
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Yeah right," snarled the small girl on the phone. "Why the hell doesn't anybody ever listen to me?"
"I told you ma'am, there's..."
"No. Right now you listen to me. When I called them, they told me to call you and right now I have had enough of your bullshit. I am not in the mood for you guys to screw me over again."
"I'm sor..." started the operator on the phone. Spitfyre picked up the phone and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
"You damned right you're sorry," she snarled as she sat down at the counter and buried her face in her arms. "Why the hell does no one ever listen to me? Am I just some godforsaken tape recorder? Why do I have to keep repeating myself time after time after time?"
Grand Slam silently slipped inside the machine shop, wondering if it was really safe for him to do so. He had never seen Spitfyre mad enough to do any damage to an inanimate object. Something was very definitely wrong with his little friend. Her normally tightly laced control was slipping.
When he saw Spitfyre finally give in to her emotions and bury her head into her arms on the counter, he slipped up behind her and before he could stop himself, his hands were kneading her shoulders.
"What's wrong, Widget?" he asked, using his private nickname for her.
"It's nothing," she mumbled.
"Nothing?" he queried, "You don't get pissed off and throw the phone across the room over nothing, Little Bit."
"Oh all right. There is something wrong. Happy now?"
"Not really. Feel like talking about it?" he gently asked her, still kneading her shoulders, his brow furrowed in concern. It was unusual for the petite demolitions expert and weaponsmith to be so upset and uncommunicative. Getting information out of her this morning was going to be like pulling teeth. He knew that it had to be serious for her to be in this condition.
"Not really. I just feel like I'm nothing more than a tape recorder some days, always having to repeat myself over and over again. And today just hit my limit, not to mention the fact that the bank is trying to screw me over again."
"Again? Girl, you're going to have to change banks. What is it this time?"
"They keep telling me that I don't have an account there. If I don't have an account there, then where did they put the money that I deposited last Friday? Freaking thieves."
"Good question. I'll ask Jinx if she might be able to find out for us. Now I have two more questions for you."
"Okay," sighed Spitfyre.
"Number one: When was the last time you relaxed and let some of the tension out of your muscles?"
"I can't remember. I don't think I ever have. Living the way I did, you never knew where or when the next blow was coming from, and you had to be ready for action in a split-second, As to relaxing, I don't know how. I never had a chance to learn," she explained, giving him a small glimpse into the void of her hidden past. He is shocked by the tiny glimpse of her inner pain that she had just given him.
"You've got so much tension in your muscles, they're tense, tight and almost solid as a rock, Widget. Jeez. Number two question: How would you feel about taking two weeks off and going out to Chippewa Falls with me for Christmas?"
"I don't know, Slam. I have too much work here right now, and then I have to take care of all these damn screw-ups. I just don't have the time right now to just take off, not that I don't want to go anywhere with you."
"I was just talking to the rest of the guys, and Short Fuze said he'd take half, Flash said he'd take the other half, and they all said that they would help to take care of all the extraneous problems. Hawk and Chuckles are working on this bank problem because Chuckles is having the same problem, believe it or not, and he's just as pissed as you are, little bit. And besides, Hawk is about to call you and tell you to get the hell off of the base, or at least he was, until you threw the phone and shattered it into tiny pieces. He thinks that you've been working too long and too hard, and for once, I agree with him."
He wraps his arms around her slight form and scoops her out of the chair and into his strong, muscular arms, holding her tightly.
"What's wrong with being a workaholic?" she asks, glaring at him.
"Nothing, unless you want to survive a while and stay sane. I talked to both Psyche-Out and Lifeline about it, and they both said that you were beginning to exhibit the classic signs of burnout. And Lifeline is concerned that you're not eating enough to stay healthy, little one. He's already upset with you about your sleeping habits, you know. He called Hawk and recommended that he get somebody to get you off base for a couple of weeks, and Hawk called me about it."
"Yeah, I know. Well, if I'm going to run off, I need to go pack. When do you want to leave?" she asked, squirming.
"Actually, I already have the plane tickets and our flight leaves in about four hours. Stunner already has your duffle packed. Footloose is taking us to the airport."
He lowers her to her feet and lets her get the jacket that she had hanging on the back of the chair. She shrugs into it as they leave the office.
As they walk down the hall to the side door leading towards the female barracks, he gives into temptation and slides his arm around her waist. Expecting her to slap the snot out of him, he is extremely surprised when she just lets it rest there, and lays her head on his shoulder, and not slapping him silly.
"I also took the liberty of getting you a formal party dress, and Taffy packed it for you," he revealed sheepishly, knowing that she was extremely independent and liked to make her own decisions.
"Oh great. Where am I supposed to use something like that this year?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"You'll have to wait until Chippewa Falls to find out," he teases her.
She doesn't let on to him that she is secretly awed that he would do something so, well, intimate, I guess is the word for it.
She fiercely tried to hide her feelings from the rest of the world. It wasn't that she hated people with a vengeance, but the truth was, all she ever really wanted was for someone to care about her, but she just wasn't ready to chance her heart again, and face the possibility that it might be broken again. She wanted someone who could love her with all of her faults and baggage from the past. Someone who would accept her for who she was, and not for who they thought that she should be. Someone who would be willing to help her heal, and not blame her for being the way she was. She didn't want to open herself up to the same pain again and again.
As they walk in companionable silence over to the female barracks to get her things, both of them are lost in thought. She's wondering what the heck this man has up his sleeve, and he's chancing small glances her way, this shy, scarred, beautiful in his eyes, petite weaponsmith from seeing how beautiful she really is and how much the guys she worked with wanted her.
Stunner is waiting at the door guarding both of their duffels when they approach the building. She is grinning like an idiot when she sees them come around the corner, his arm wrapped around her waist and her head on his shoulder. "They make such a cute couple," she thinks. "I hope this works out like he wants. They both deserve it."
"I got your things packed, Cadence. Hope you have fun. You really do need to take a break."
Spitfyre looks up at her roommate on the stairs. "So I heard. Even the General was getting ready to tell me to get the hell off base, or so I was told." She would have said more, but just then, Footloose pulled up in a jeep. He hopped out and helped Grand Slam with the luggage.
The ride was quick and silence reigned in the vehicle as none of them were really in the mood for conversation. Grand Slam and Spitfyre barely get there in time to catch their flight.
"Dang it!" she said as calmly as she could. "I just got finished talking to them...they told me to call you."
"Well, ma'am, there's nothing we can do until you talk to them."
"I just told you. I just talked to them. They told me to call you."
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Yeah right," snarled the small girl on the phone. "Why the hell doesn't anybody ever listen to me?"
"I told you ma'am, there's..."
"No. Right now you listen to me. When I called them, they told me to call you and right now I have had enough of your bullshit. I am not in the mood for you guys to screw me over again."
"I'm sor..." started the operator on the phone. Spitfyre picked up the phone and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
"You damned right you're sorry," she snarled as she sat down at the counter and buried her face in her arms. "Why the hell does no one ever listen to me? Am I just some godforsaken tape recorder? Why do I have to keep repeating myself time after time after time?"
Grand Slam silently slipped inside the machine shop, wondering if it was really safe for him to do so. He had never seen Spitfyre mad enough to do any damage to an inanimate object. Something was very definitely wrong with his little friend. Her normally tightly laced control was slipping.
When he saw Spitfyre finally give in to her emotions and bury her head into her arms on the counter, he slipped up behind her and before he could stop himself, his hands were kneading her shoulders.
"What's wrong, Widget?" he asked, using his private nickname for her.
"It's nothing," she mumbled.
"Nothing?" he queried, "You don't get pissed off and throw the phone across the room over nothing, Little Bit."
"Oh all right. There is something wrong. Happy now?"
"Not really. Feel like talking about it?" he gently asked her, still kneading her shoulders, his brow furrowed in concern. It was unusual for the petite demolitions expert and weaponsmith to be so upset and uncommunicative. Getting information out of her this morning was going to be like pulling teeth. He knew that it had to be serious for her to be in this condition.
"Not really. I just feel like I'm nothing more than a tape recorder some days, always having to repeat myself over and over again. And today just hit my limit, not to mention the fact that the bank is trying to screw me over again."
"Again? Girl, you're going to have to change banks. What is it this time?"
"They keep telling me that I don't have an account there. If I don't have an account there, then where did they put the money that I deposited last Friday? Freaking thieves."
"Good question. I'll ask Jinx if she might be able to find out for us. Now I have two more questions for you."
"Okay," sighed Spitfyre.
"Number one: When was the last time you relaxed and let some of the tension out of your muscles?"
"I can't remember. I don't think I ever have. Living the way I did, you never knew where or when the next blow was coming from, and you had to be ready for action in a split-second, As to relaxing, I don't know how. I never had a chance to learn," she explained, giving him a small glimpse into the void of her hidden past. He is shocked by the tiny glimpse of her inner pain that she had just given him.
"You've got so much tension in your muscles, they're tense, tight and almost solid as a rock, Widget. Jeez. Number two question: How would you feel about taking two weeks off and going out to Chippewa Falls with me for Christmas?"
"I don't know, Slam. I have too much work here right now, and then I have to take care of all these damn screw-ups. I just don't have the time right now to just take off, not that I don't want to go anywhere with you."
"I was just talking to the rest of the guys, and Short Fuze said he'd take half, Flash said he'd take the other half, and they all said that they would help to take care of all the extraneous problems. Hawk and Chuckles are working on this bank problem because Chuckles is having the same problem, believe it or not, and he's just as pissed as you are, little bit. And besides, Hawk is about to call you and tell you to get the hell off of the base, or at least he was, until you threw the phone and shattered it into tiny pieces. He thinks that you've been working too long and too hard, and for once, I agree with him."
He wraps his arms around her slight form and scoops her out of the chair and into his strong, muscular arms, holding her tightly.
"What's wrong with being a workaholic?" she asks, glaring at him.
"Nothing, unless you want to survive a while and stay sane. I talked to both Psyche-Out and Lifeline about it, and they both said that you were beginning to exhibit the classic signs of burnout. And Lifeline is concerned that you're not eating enough to stay healthy, little one. He's already upset with you about your sleeping habits, you know. He called Hawk and recommended that he get somebody to get you off base for a couple of weeks, and Hawk called me about it."
"Yeah, I know. Well, if I'm going to run off, I need to go pack. When do you want to leave?" she asked, squirming.
"Actually, I already have the plane tickets and our flight leaves in about four hours. Stunner already has your duffle packed. Footloose is taking us to the airport."
He lowers her to her feet and lets her get the jacket that she had hanging on the back of the chair. She shrugs into it as they leave the office.
As they walk down the hall to the side door leading towards the female barracks, he gives into temptation and slides his arm around her waist. Expecting her to slap the snot out of him, he is extremely surprised when she just lets it rest there, and lays her head on his shoulder, and not slapping him silly.
"I also took the liberty of getting you a formal party dress, and Taffy packed it for you," he revealed sheepishly, knowing that she was extremely independent and liked to make her own decisions.
"Oh great. Where am I supposed to use something like that this year?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"You'll have to wait until Chippewa Falls to find out," he teases her.
She doesn't let on to him that she is secretly awed that he would do something so, well, intimate, I guess is the word for it.
She fiercely tried to hide her feelings from the rest of the world. It wasn't that she hated people with a vengeance, but the truth was, all she ever really wanted was for someone to care about her, but she just wasn't ready to chance her heart again, and face the possibility that it might be broken again. She wanted someone who could love her with all of her faults and baggage from the past. Someone who would accept her for who she was, and not for who they thought that she should be. Someone who would be willing to help her heal, and not blame her for being the way she was. She didn't want to open herself up to the same pain again and again.
As they walk in companionable silence over to the female barracks to get her things, both of them are lost in thought. She's wondering what the heck this man has up his sleeve, and he's chancing small glances her way, this shy, scarred, beautiful in his eyes, petite weaponsmith from seeing how beautiful she really is and how much the guys she worked with wanted her.
Stunner is waiting at the door guarding both of their duffels when they approach the building. She is grinning like an idiot when she sees them come around the corner, his arm wrapped around her waist and her head on his shoulder. "They make such a cute couple," she thinks. "I hope this works out like he wants. They both deserve it."
"I got your things packed, Cadence. Hope you have fun. You really do need to take a break."
Spitfyre looks up at her roommate on the stairs. "So I heard. Even the General was getting ready to tell me to get the hell off base, or so I was told." She would have said more, but just then, Footloose pulled up in a jeep. He hopped out and helped Grand Slam with the luggage.
The ride was quick and silence reigned in the vehicle as none of them were really in the mood for conversation. Grand Slam and Spitfyre barely get there in time to catch their flight.