A roleplay between lostfrequencies and myself, which she kindly converted to narrative prose. She was Knock Out, while I was Starscream [He's awesome, okay. No shame. XD]. We're still looking for players, so if you want to join, here's a link: tfprelics . proboards .com
Remove the spaces and you should be there, :3.
Let the win begin.
Starscream didn't exactly recall how he had gotten himself into this situation. No doubt Knock Out had done something to impair his judgment: give him high-grade perhaps, or maybe even toy with his dreams of leading the Decepticons to victory...
He let out a quiet hum at the thought, pleasure making his wings quake for an instant before he regained control of himself.
Despite the fact that he hated being on this planet's surface for any period of time, he did find himself enjoying the thought of being away from the Nemesis. Although it was a vague worry that Megatron would discover his absence, without the actual threat of his lord's presence looming over his shoulder plating, he found himself relaxing a tiny bit. Not that he let it show. He wouldn't give Knock Out any indication of what he thought of this excursion. Except for disapproval, but that was a given.
The Seeker hiked his wings up in irritation, a scowl resident on his faceplate. His claws tapped impatiently against his plating, and he huffed, hoping that by showing his annoyance, someone might actually do something about it. He flicked a digit at an imaginary piece of grime, a soft sigh escaping his vocals. "When is this supposed to be entertaining?"
"Patience, Kommandant," Knock Out replied with a smirk. "It'd be any moment now. Don't you just love being out here?"
Starscream scoffed, rolling his optics before fixing them on the flashy red frame beside him. He didn't understand the other's fascination with the German language, but didn't typically let it bother him. By now, the use of the word 'Kommandant' was almost reassuring. At least someone remembered his worth.
"As if. I love being up there, not stuck down here," the Seeker growled out, gesturing at the ground with disgust. He hadn't even been here for a joor, but he already longed to return to the sky. Although there were a few teasing winds, none of them were the strong gusts that he appreciated, none were enough to make his wing's receptors flick with pleasure. "And it better be soon. I do have work to do."
Starscream shifted on his high-heeled thrusters, the temptation to pace behind and around Knock Out burning through his processor. He mentally stamped on it; in all the likelihood, the action would make him look ridiculous more than anything, and he would not have that. Not while he was out of his element.
Knock Out stifled a chuckle and shrugged. "Well if you must flex your wings, be my guest."
The medic turned suddenly, his crimson gaze widening at the sight of two beautiful exotic cars speeding across the open road. "There," he said. "Right on time."
"Finally." Starscream gaze flicked to the medic's face, a smirk forming on his own faceplate as he observed the red mech's appreciative look. Knock Out was clearly enamored by this activity and the vehicles that came with it, but the reasoning behind this was clearly lost on the Seeker's narrow frame of mind.
"Oh-kay." Knock Out began tapping a series of digits on his communications panel located on the back of his wrist. "Meet me at these coordinates." He then leapt off from their hiding place and shifted into vehicle mode, his engine revving and wheels grinding against the rocky ground before hitting the road. The racer was finally off to meet with the Lamborghini and the Ferrari that were now kilometres away.
The silver mech glanced briefly at the coordinates, not even deeming the subject worth response. His gaze followed Knock Out's sleek form as the red medic sped after his 'competition', although Starscream knew there was hardly any with Knock Out involved.
He backed up a few paces before running forward, taking a huge jump. But he didn't transform. Not yet.
He waited until his frame had nearly crashed into the rocky landscape before turning to his alt mode, the F-16's cannon blazing with power that propelled him forward at an alarming rate. He flew almost lazily, performing barrel rolls and looping through clouds, but he still reached his destination within a matter of kliks. The flight was too quick for his liking, but he wasn't here for himself, odd as that seemed. He returned to his bipedal mode while still in the air, falling gracefully to his high-heeled peds, knee joints bending to rid himself of his momentum. He straightened instantly, wings snapping into place as he took several steps forward.
Knock Out said to meet him here...
In the meantime, what was he supposed to be looking at? The fleshlings and their futile attempts at technology? He couldn't exactly recall, but he did keep an optic out for Knock Out nonetheless.
Starscream started at the sound of Knock Out's voice:
Stand by. I'm about to give these humans a race they'll never forget. A race isn't truly a race without obstacles. I'll be reaching said coordinates in approximately 3.5 breems. And as soon as I have, feel free to great these beauties with a meteor shower of boulders. Is that entertaining enough for you, Kommandant?
He didn't remember giving his comm-link to the medic; in fact, he hardly ever gave his comm-link to anyone. He was suspicious enough of Soundwave that he found it necessary to perform nearly all conversations face-to-face, or at least via the Nemesis' public wavelength. He didn't want the communications officer thinking he was hiding anything, now did he?
The Seeker found himself frowning slightly at the thought of sending the intended victims into a pile of rubble.
Despite popular belief, Starscream didn't like to kill things. He liked to toy with them. He didn't like cleaning up after himself, he hated it when the object of his attentions didn't scream, or at least beg him for mercy, in response to his sharp talons leaving fine marks upon another's frame. He liked his revenge, his games, his taunting, but he couldn't actually kill unless driven nearly mad with rage.
Wounding another being was almost personal to him. He did have a distinct hatred for every single member of the Autobot party; they had all done something to him in their own time, and the damage he dealt was almost like him giving them a gift, returning the favor for all the wrongs they'd committed against him...
One could consider this a flaw, especially considering his position within the Decepticon cause, but he didn't care.
Instead they typically saw a sadist. He completely demolished his targets, but he left them alive so that they knew they were at his mercy, only allowed to live because of his every whim. And when this no longer suited him, he had someone else do the dirty work. The game was no longer fun if his prize couldn't feel every instant of agony.
And now, he couldn't find it in himself to kill these fleshlings just because he could. They held no ill will against him, nor he against them personally. And why should he participate in Knock Out's little game? It certainly wasn't his, nor his style.
I'd rather not, he commed back, a small smirk on his faceplate. If you want to kill your opponents, do so as you please. But I will not be used to simply destroy those that have bested you.
Really, Starscream. These humans are not to be underestimated. Fragile as they may seem, they can't be terminated so easily. Especially when they're equipped with safety features within their vehicles. The medic paused before speaking again, Very well. Let me finish this race and I'll meet you at the other side of the tundra. Knock Out over and out.
Starscream expressed his displeasure in a heavy release of air, the weight of it making his vocalizer rattle dryly. He hardly felt like waiting for the cherry-red mech to finish his fun while not having any of his own.
The Seeker glanced down the length of the road, optics following the curves between formations of rock. He supposed that if he went at full speed that something as simple for a ground-pounder as this might turn into an exhilarating test of his own skills. And when he came upon the humans...and Knock Out, of course...the resulting sight might be quite amusing, especially with the possibility of his wingtips mere dunteks from the ground.
This time he didn't bother with a graceful leap, instead transforming as he was and shooting off, following the flat expanse of the road with just espes to spare, his wings nearly grazing the unyielding rock. He knew that, at his speed, the humans' audios would never detect the sound of his thrusters until it he was nearly on top of them. Perhaps in this way he could also startle Knock Out, but that one was more doubtful. Still, any fearful reaction, whether it be from ally, foe, or innocent bystander alike, was relished in his processor.
The sound of his passage echoed behind him, magnified by the very obstacles he was using to shield himself from his targets. He was still sure he could stay ahead of the sound, and within a short klik he saw the three vehicles. They were mere pinpricks in the distance at this point, but it hardly took half the time he'd spent messing around in the canyon to be directly in front of them, thrusters roaring in delight at the sensation.
At the last possible klik, he changed his trajectory, his nose cone pointing perpendicular with the ground as he shot straight up, his afterburners leaving scorch marks on the pavement, and even quite possibly on the racers themselves. If he had just happened to catch Knock Out in that, oh well; the other owed him for taking him on this excursion in the first place.
He slowed to a leisurely pace as he flipped back around to watch the ensuing chaos, noticing the twin contrails left in his wake that still peppered the edges of the road.
Perhaps he was beginning to see why the medic would enjoy such an activity.