You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!
Another little ficlet to help boost my muse and moral. A huge thank you to Darkness_Rising for this wonderful prompt. I will admit I laughed rather hard when I first read it, and this popped into my head.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and I own nothing.
Onslaught sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep, calming breath. He needed to calm down, he need to relax before he reached out and throttled his nearest team mate.
He so desperately wanted to throttle the whole lot of them. One at a time, and shake the living hell out of them.
He often thought, why him? What had he done to deserve this? Really. Why did he, of all the Decepticon commanders, of all underworld criminal master minds of Kaon, did he get stuck with this bunch of slagging idiots?
He was being punished for something. Something he did a very long time ago, no doubt. Maybe even in another life, if you believed in such nonsense.
Alarms blared overhead, red lights flared in warning, fanning out through the smoke that rose up from the rubble of what had been an outer wall of some human out post. Already humans were screaming obscenities and orders, charging around to hold the second wall.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
So much for their quiet entry.
"Soooo." Vortex said from his side, bouncing on his heels. "Are we going in?"
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
His servos fell to his sides, curling into tight fists of rage. "I told you." His voice hard, a mere edge of the rage he felt. "We only need to blow only the bloody doors! That this is supposed to be a quiet operation!"
He spun to Vortex, fists unclenching and clenching as he glowered at his subordinate.
"Well," the interrogator paused, glancing around at the ruble around them, the massive hole in the wall, the chaos it created. "This is faster."
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
"Just get the bloody oil Vortex." He ground out between clenched denta. "Get in there! The lot of you!"
Vortex chortled as he strut pasted, Brawl and Swindle slinking off behind him.
Breath in. Don't kill your subordinates! Don't. Kill. Your. Subordinates. Breath out.
"Come on Ons! Lets go get us some oil!" Vortex yelled as another explosion rock the earth beneath Onslaught's pedes.
Must not kill my subordinates.
A third and fourth explosion shook the ground, Brawls whooping laugh with it.
Oh yes. He was being punished for something. Primus had to be behind it, there was no other cosmic energy powerful enough to screw him over like this, to saddle him with an unruly, undisciplined gestalt such as this.
Heaving a sigh, Onslaught cocked his weapon and slowly walked onto the battle field. He'd deal with his disobedient gestalt later.