28. Playing With Kids Catechism
All tasks served the cause. They had their place and value. Catechism knew this, and yet she could not help but feel she was being punished somehow in this newest of role of drill sergeant to the factory-fresh, so new that their aluminium yet shone like mirrors.
She ducked her head into the barracks, every-wary of her new charges. Fresh as their paint smelled, they were Decepticons still and thus worthy of handling with caution. Seeing the bored trio of interceptors fidgeting on their berths, coiled action ready to spring, the fighters playing cards, and the bomber sulking in the back, Catechism let the rest of her body slip into the room. She barked, "Up and at 'em! We're going to have fun today."
"I don't have to play target again?" the bomber asked dreamily.
"I didn't give you permission to speak," Catechism railed at the bomber in the back, crushing the larger plane's hope of a target free day by snatching up the fighters' cards and hurling them at the bomber.
Even the interceptors paused.
Finding it hard to break the sudden stillness, Catechism muttered quietly, "Right." Finding her voice again, she explained, "Munitions practice. Today, my wing-wishers, we're going paintballing."
The interceptors' optics flashed cruelly, and the fighters parried them with arrogant smirks. The bomber just groaned.
