Title: Public Record
Continuity: Marvel G1
Characters: Spinister, Needlenose, Snarler
Rating: G
Genre: General
Warnings: Drinking. Mention of past violence.
Word Count: +300
Summary: Like most truly dangerous people, Spinister has little need to talk about just how dangerous he is.
Spinister did not sit on one of the barstools. Needlenose did. Staying balanced on a bar stool was too easy and could lead to a false sense of complacency. Some might argue that point, but they were not Spinister. He was exquisitely sensitive to balance; the twitch of the gyroscope. The trainee was already tipsy, Spinister noted disapprovingly, but the intoxication was a minor matter. He was more disapproving that Needlenose was cheerily unaware of his own degrading mental state, which was the real concern. Needlenose had promise, but Decepticons were known for breaking their promises, and Needlenose wanted so badly to be all that was Decepticon. Spinister suspected that he himself might be the one causing the breaking of promises, in the end.
Needlenose pestered, "What about your first time, Spinister?"
Snarler snorted into his drink, slovenly casting droplets into the air.
Spinister stared blankly, having no reply to either the question or the snort. He knew enough to only know that there was some joke here that was out of his range.
Needlenose took a few seconds to process and added, "Not like that." Not like what, Spinister wondered? Needlenose leaned in closer. "Your first time in combat - real combat. Official-like."
"That would be in my file," Spinister answered evenly. His public record was not so much illuminating as it was endarkening, lying by omission at every turn to cast an image that seemed more solid than the elusive truth.
"That's just guard duty. C'mon, you must have something," Needlenose whined.
"It was a task worth doing," Spinister lectured again.
"Hmph," the trainee sniffed and pouted, wings arching.
"Life is not glamorous," Spinister said, though he was not sure that Needlenose would ever believe him. He needed to, though, if he wanted to survive.
Another flier cut in and smiled brightly at Needlenose. The intruder inquired, "Care to dance?"
Spinister watched Needlenose strut off to the dance floor as if he owned the place.
Snarler remarked coolly, "Not going to tell him how you strangled your drill sergeant?"
"Is that on my record?" Spinister said obliquely and tilted his head to the side.
Snarler chuckled like the splatter of oil across a wall.
The End
Author's Note: This is an old fanfic of mine, written 2006-12-02, and mostly just tossed up here to collect my fanfics in one place.