Dutiful

He glared at the computer monitor as if it held all the secrets he'd like to pry from his current companion. Tarantulas, of course, blithely continued to fiddle around with his section of the computers, doing exactly what he was supposed to; that is, he worked on repairs, scanning, and other things he was supposed to do while on shift. Every once and a while, however, a maniacal chuckle would escape to let Scorpinok know that all was not right with his world. There were people manning the bridge stations. He was keeping an eye on the monitors and Tarantulas, the spider was working under his eye, and there was even a patrol of sorts going on outside. Megatron was off doing Megatron-ish things, which he was too much of a good little subordinate to inquire about after he'd accidentally overheard a song about rubber duckies. All SHOULD have been right with his world. That chuckling, though, told him that not only were things not right, they were going to the Pit on a hoverpad.

Scorpinok studied the computer monitor. It defiantly showed him only a section of the area surrounding the base, and he switched his gaze to another monitor in hopes of prying something loose from a new victim. No such luck. He was supposed to be OUT there right now, scuttling along over the ground and savoring the bit of freedom he was allowed away from the yammering idiots Megatron had dragged with them as cannon fodder. Sure he had to keep an optic out for the Maximals, but it was better than sorting out the latest scheme Tarantulas and Terrorsaur had dreamed up. But nooooo. Terrorsaur just HAD to skip out on his shift today, didn't he? He just HAD to be the scatter-brained nitwit who couldn't keep to a schedule like every other sane person. And better yet, he hadn't bothered to inform Scorpinok of playing hooky until he was far enough away from the base that a well-timed CyberBee couldn't harass him back into line, which left Scorpinok--oh joy!--to cover his shift. AGAIN. With Tarantulas, of all the misshapen, megalomaniac 'bots in the base! He hadn't needed this today, nooo, he really hadn't. Oh, great. He was starting to pick up Megatron's speech habits. Slag.

The monitors, he could have sworn, were laughing at him. Wait--had that been Waspinator buzzing by on the far right? Surely that blur had been yellow and black striped. Ah, yes. That was Terrorsaur speeding after him, a half-amused, half-exasperated look on his face as his jets blasted away in an effort at keeping up. Hmmm, the infamous sugar high versus jet propulsion. Scorpinok had to bet his money on Waspinator for this one. Well, that would explain the sudden abandonment by Terrorsaur, anyway. If someone didn't go after Waspinator right after he got started on one of his sugar binges, there was no hope of catching the wasp without some kind of violence and usually total disassembly. The tactical Predacon in Scorpinok mumbled something about having Waspinator in the CR Tanks all the time was a disadvantage if the Maximals would suddenly attack. The cynical Predacon in Scorpinok noted wryly that he just couldn't stand how Waspinator whined about getting blown up. The sympathetic Predacon in Scorpinok winced at the thought of Megatron shooting the poor wasp down again just for having a little fun. The loyal Predacon in Scorpinok figured that it was better that Terrorsaur went after the pest before Megatron had to be bothered over it.

The paranoid Predacon that was Scorpinok gave the monitors a suspicious look as Tarantulas chuckled for no reason anyone else could see. The monitors blandly displayed what they always displayed, not giving an inch. He knew they knew something.

So, Terrorsaur had gone after Waspinator, hmm? Scorpinok knew how that worked, and he knew how he was supposed to play along like he DIDN'T know. Waspinator snuck off; Terrorsaur took off to rescue him from Megatron's future wrath. Being, however, both Terrorsaur and a Predacon, there wasn't any way in the Pit that the pterodactyl would actually outright do anything like that. Therefore, he'd slacked off in a normal, accepted fashion. Well, as accepted as a dereliction of duty was around here. Scorpinok would wait patiently, covering the delinquent's shift until he got back, and then he'd chew the birdbrain out with a lecture to end all lectures. Then he'd tell Megatron, who might just chew on the slacker. After some shameless groveling on Terrorsaur's part, he'd be allowed to go repair himself. The point, of course, was that he'd get the slag beat out of him for abandoning his station, NOT for chasing after Waspinator. This, in a sneaky, round-about kind of way, preserved his macho Predacon self-image and saved Waspinator from yet another trip to the CR Tanks. Because Primus forbid that of all Predacons, TERRORSAUR might actually have a friend. Predacons weren't supposed to have friends. Predacons were supposed to be tough, selfish, self-sufficient, completely rabid killers kept only from the Maximals' throats by a thin leash of control supposedly held by Megatron.

But Scorpinok knew, and Tarantulas knew, and Waspinator knew, and, slag, probably even the monitors knew, that Terrorsaur wasn't really slacking off today. When it came down to it, the only one who didn't know was Megatron, and he wouldn't lay any money on that. They'd play the game, though, and pretend that they didn't know. He scowled. This didn't mean, even while he pretended that he didn't know the real reason Terrorsaur had skipped his shift, that his anger was faked. Terrorsaur was going to get his wings clipped when he dared show them around here next!

The monitors were STARING at him. Tarantulas chuckled.

Scorpinok suppressed a twitch.

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Scorpinok must hate pulling a shift with Tarantulas. The idea of Scorpinok being paranoid makes me laugh. Plus, I like giving the bad guys personalities, then all the reasoning behind why the Evil Predacons (TM) don't show them.