SYCMD: WELL LOOKIE HERE, WHAT'S THIS? AN UPDATE!? HUZZAH! ...It's honestly been way too long since I got swept away with my writing again, but we're in the post-production stage of my personal projects and my fingers are itching to get to work during this lovely lil' lull. And who could be better to start us off on a (hopefully) long streak of writing than the most adorkable idiot in the Destron forces~
Long, dark corridors hummed in the stretching silence; carrying on the ghostly notes of creaking panels and far-off machines, like a conversation that had nearly faded from memory, but no matter how hard he tuned his audio receptors, Hellbat could not make sense of the sounds. In a state of confusion, he moved forward, following the unlit path as he wrestled with the uncanny sensation of familiarity. This was the Thunder Arrow, was it not? Wasn't he at war, on a small, mud-ball sphere called Earth?
The Destron focused on his shuffling pedes, soundless and fleeting along scuffed, colourless panelling, trying to piece together an answer to the questions echoing in the back of his helm. He was distracted though, as a glimmer of illumination cut in front of his path, pulling his attention back up. Abruptly, the hallway had ended. To his left, a door was now set in the wall, left ajar so that a single rectangular beam of light sprinkled outwards in the otherwise black void. Cautiously, Hellbat moved closer, optic pressing up to the thin crack to peer inside. His visual pixels had barely adapted to the change of lighting when his optics shuttered and he found himself suddenly standing within the bright room. The echoes of noise were strongest in here: beeping, clacking, the tink and thud of shifting items...
Enthralled, the spy waded through a gelatinous atmosphere, moving deeper into the room. He found himself next to a lab table before too long, its surface covered in a thousand, different items; misted with various glows and layers of moisture or steam. At the far end, twirling between a small console and a set of heated beakers, was Leozack.
Regular, full-grown Leozack.
His vocalizer took a couple restarts before Hellbat could manage a tinny, "Hey."
No response. But then, even his own hail had sounded pitiful and faint to the blue mech's audios. Mouth opened behind the mask to try again, yet nothing came forth. Muted, the rafale just stood there, watching the lieutenant commander while something wriggled uneasily in the back of his mind. Across the room, Leozack paid his unexpected guest no attention, too enraptured in the tasks he was conducting just then. A scowling mouth moved without sound, the brow furrowing in some unknown frustration...
Hellbat could hear him, though. Snippets of broken sentences and curses that tickled along his helm fins. Cruel remarks made about himself, specifically. The other jet felt his frame soften, released from some tension that he hadn't recognized or could name. If he was only meant to watch, the blue Destron pondered distantly, he would be happy to partake.
Leozack was suddenly standing before him following the half-formed thought, his wings to the spy. Hellbat barely processed the change, before the tomcat was tilting his helm slightly to one side; ever so slowly, his frame mimicking the motion, until the teal mech was turned completely towards his companion. That scowl was now fixated on him, promising to curl at the edges into a sneer, narrowed optics actually seeing the rafale. Hellbat's knees trembled in delight.
"You wretch."
"Fragging moron."
"How dare you intrude on me?"
"I'll slice off that digging olfactory of yours."
"You enjoy pestering me, don't you?"
The statements came all at once, pitched differently and overlapping each other, to the point that they were almost a cacophonous mess. The spy did not notice; he heard each one individually, smothered in the lyrical notes that made up his lieutenant commander's vocalizer, relishing every growl and vowel enunciation. His optics must have offlined in rapture at the longed-for sounds, because when they reactivated, Leozack had closed the gap, an arm reaching up to the blue mech's helm. Hellbat held firm. Even if the tomcat meant harm, his neural net writhed for the contact. Instead, cruel digits tucked around the back of his neck.
Hellbat gasped.
It felt like a bubble had burst just then, the lethargy and silence gushing out of its drooping seams, while everything burst to new life before the quivering Destron's optics. The vials of liquids bubbling and hissing, the computers twittering and clipping as they ran a litany of commands through their processing units in rapid succession, the groan of oceanic tides behind ship walls and internal panels popping tinnily every few cycles... Nothing, though, compared to the hum of the teal mech's frame: vents, huffing soft and low, against the tightening of pistons in joints ready for action, while wing tips stirred the stagnant atmosphere, absorbing data from the lab room. If he didn't already have each mundane sound memorized by spark, Hellbat would have been desperately saving this file to his HDU. As it was, the spy was interrupted in his unspoken delight when the grip against his neck finally tugged -gentler than any grasp from his lieutenant commander had been before, pulling Hellbat down the inch or so in height difference, while Leozack slid his frame closer.
Now, the rafale was flooded with a world of sensations. Joy. Fear. Lust. Hope. Excitement. Unease. Silky heat nestled along clammy cold. The soft flex of digits secure in their hold. His optics darted from the teal plating pressing softly against his chestplates to the confident smirk on the other Destron's face, expecting all of this to turn to a cruel prank and yet, not pulling away. He was, Hellbat noted quietly to himself, always a fool when it came to certain matters in life. It was with that rationale that the spy remained in place as Leozack chuckled, dark and sensual, pulling the subservient mech lower until lip components brushed against silver metal.
"Is it insurgency or stupidity that keeps you from heeding your superior's wants?," the tomcat husked, hypnotic gaze keeping the other jet enthralled.
Hellbat, dumbly, opened his mouth to speak. He cursed himself belatedly, servos reaching up to rip his own mouthguard off. His scrambling fingers paused, brow furrowed. He'd thought...
Impeccable white fingers flicked the constraining metal off in one, quick flick with an expertise that belied Leozack's lack of familiarity. Though, if anyone would know how to remove his mask on their first try, it would certainly be the lieutenant commander, Hellbat mused dreamily. That was just the sort of information the teal jet liked to have saved to his processor. Any further thoughts were derailed as his naked mouth was suddenly in close proximity with his companion's smirk, intakes cycling hard while softened plating whispered against his own.
The oncoming words, though, remained a mystery to the spy.
From behind him, came that tiny niggling once more, but now it had transformed into a sound too far and muffled to hear well. It broke his focus on the lieutenant commander in front of him, distracting Hellbat until his optics were even daring to dart to the side repeatedly in confusion. Leozack, oddly, was unaffected by the lack of attention. Another thing for the blue Destron to miss.
The tomcat was speaking again, his vocalizer low and demanding.
"Huh?," the spy replied, elegantly, putting a pause on his pathetic twisting under the clamp behind his helm. Leozack's features had hardened from their earlier flirtations, the optics a fraction too enlarged and glowing with feverish light above the ever-stretching sneer.
"Choose," the word finally registered, heralded on a moment of absolute silence, before a pitching scream echoed from the bowels of the ship somewhere far behind the rafale.
A youngling's scream.
Hellbat twisted sharply against the servo on his neck, attempting to turn toward the shriek, yet found himself dragged back forwards by the claws pressing into his spinal struts; facing the lieutenant commander with his too-big-optics and cruel smile that stretched farther up his cheekplates than it should.
"Choose," the teal mech demanded through the continual scream, the word intoned in a hiss and wrapped in a note of glee. Ice touched his abdomen, and when the spy glanced down, it was to find the barrel of a blaster pressed intimately up against his plating. Too late, Hellbat looked up and saw himself being dragged towards Leozack's mouth again. In the glow of his superior's mad optics, he caught the shadow of something large.
"Choose," came the harsh command, tearing at the edges with a growl while the blaster pushed in aggressively. Impatience now in the lieutenant commander. "CHOO-!"
xXx
Agony ripped across his abdomen, Hellbat's optics snapping online in a flash- to find himself once more in reality, with a pint-sized mechling denting his abdomen with tiny heels and screeching at him to 'wake up'.
xxXxXxx
Leozack ran into the rec room with chaotic glee while Hellbat shuffled in at a more subdued, weary state, an arm wrapped loosely around his still-aching plating. Dim optics made sure to check in on the mechling's location -buried face-first in one of the several storage bins, making a mess- before he continued on to the room's single, dismal energon dispenser. There were no reusable cups in the storage slot, so the spy pulled a couple out of his subspace that he'd saved specifically for occasions like this: one, scuffed but still whole and relatively new, and a second one that he'd kept from his training orns. It wasn't as good, crumpled slightly and with a crack near the base, but so long as you kept your thumb in the right place, it was a decent dish. The blue Destron loaded the nice cup into the designated slot first, punching in his registration code and watching in calm relief as the energon flowed down with a soft hum, filling the large glass to the brim. When it was finished, he swapped the cups. Hesitant fingers hovered over the input pad; he remembered that Drillhorn had promised extra rations for him, due to Leozack's current predicament, yet all the same, Hellbat felt uneasy. The drill-tank had handed his comrade energon rations in hand the last few orns, so this would be the first time actually using the dispenser himself.
Aware of the youngling's impatient whining behind him, Hellbat clumsily punched his ID back into the dispenser; allowing himself a sweet, refreshing sip of victory as energon began to flow again. But then the machine beeped loudly and the life-giving pink liquid tapered off to an abrupt finish -having barely filled the second cup a third of the way. The spy choked down the rest of his mouthful, grabbing the broken cup and covering its slit before it could bleed out any of the precious fuel. Meanwhile, wide optics could only stare down into his servos disbelievingly.
Is this what the Emperor thought it took to keep a young frame healthy and vigorous? A few mouthfuls of food and a sprinkle of will?
Wings drooping miserably, Hellbat made a decision. He set the good cup, four-fifths full, on the dispenser's narrow shelf, while he fished out a sample vial from his subspace with a sealing twist-cap. Intended for organic or scientific material, the sterile tube was just big enough to hold the deplorable second ration in its entirety. His processor already calculating away, the Destron slid the extra items out of sight, burdened by the additional problems he had that morning as he walked away from the dispenser with their one, good cup of energon.
Leozack was already waiting at a table, bored and cranky with hunger. "About time!," the little miscreant squeaked, snatching for the cup before the spy had barely placed it on the table top. "Primus, balls of ore move faster than you!"
The older mech gave a distracted grunt in response, pulling datapads out of storage while he took a seat across from the youngling. It did not escape his notice that he was being studiously watched by his smaller companion, but Hellbat refused to acknowledge the attention. The shrunken lieutenant commander had been right; he was too smart to be stuck doing the infantilized equations and puzzle-solving that passed for Jan's homework. He had to come up with something better for the tiny jet to do.
"Hey, what are you doing?," Leozack demanded, his optics following the rapid swirls of the blue Destron's pen across the face of one such tablet.
"Eat," the spy mumbled back. "I thought you were dying to get your morning fill."
The youngling pouted at the minor jab, attempting to kick at his caretaker but only managing to bounce his pede off of the underside of the table. Again. Of course, spilling a bit of energon in the process. Red optics shuttered at the minuscule, wasted pools on the table top, before a servo forced his attention back to the datapads with a grunt of frustration. He really, truly did not have the patience for this kind of processor-ache this morning, Hellbat silently groaned. At his aggravation, Komoribreast detached from his chestplates, using his tiny claws to clamber up and over the blue mech's shoulder. Absentmindedly, Hellbat gave his seeking pet chin-scritches, shaking his helm when the tiny creature began nosing his cheekplate.
"Sorry," he vented softly. "I have no energon for you. You'll have to find your own."
Komoribreast chittered in disappointment, but nuzzled the spy anyhow, before flapping down to the table top awkwardly. If Hellbat had looked up then, he would have seen how quickly the youngling tensed; Leozack clutching his cup of energon to his chestplates, while flared optics watched in mute terror as the breastanimal clumsily hopped along the metal surface, inching towards the small tomcat and the fresh food he could smell in the mechling's grasp. Engrossed in equations, plans and hardships, Hellbat was unaware of very much happening around him just then, so it was very jarring when a pair of vocalizers ripped him from his internal musings.
"You gotta believe me!," Killbison growled, storming into the rec room right on the heels of a silent Drillhorn. Over a blue wing, Hellbat silently watched. "It wasn't my fault!"
The purple mech didn't even pause on his way to the energon dispenser. "I don't 'believe' anything, Killbison," Drillhorn stated, his low tone rife with exasperation towards his comrade, "I know you didn't complete your reports. Because if you had, you would have turned them in as you were instructed several orns ago. You do this every week. At this point, you're just wasting my time with excuses."
"BUT I TOLD YOU SOMEONE TRASHED MY ROOM! ALL MY REPORTS WERE DESTROYED!," the other Destron roared. At the drill-tank's dismissive servo wave, Killbison started stomping; throwing chairs and tables across the cafeteria as he continued his enraged bellowing.
Quickly, Hellbat dropped his face back to his own tabletop; hunkered low and servos pinning his possessions in place as the goldenrod warrior's raging fit shook the whole room with its ferocity. It wasn't too long before jeering cackles joined the cacophony, and the spy desperately wished that he hadn't woken up at all that orn.
"Jeez, Killbison," Guyhawk snidely called out, strolling into the rec room with his usual, arrogant swagger, "Maybe you should be a little louder. I don't think the Autobots have clocked the activity yet on the seismic scanner."
The raging tank broke his tirade for a moment, glaring at the magenta Destron. "...What?," he so-smartly piped.
The fighter jet's sneer dropped, facial features morphing into a look of disgust for the other breastforce member. "All my intelligently-crafted sarcasm wasted on a hunk of space rock like yourself... My talents are too good for a pathetic group like this," Guyhawk spit, pushing past Killbison and heading for the dispenser where Drillhorn still stood. "Honestly, how do you even have enough processor-input to put energon in your gullet and not soil yourself every orn, Killbison?"
"WHY YOU LITTLE-"
"Knock it off!," Drillhorn finally interjected, snapping at the two Destrons equally. Though he made certain to twist Guyhawk's wrist viciously, when the stupid jet attempted to push him out of the way of the dispenser. "You're both too old for these juvenile displays of posturing and we have a long enough orn as it is. Save that pigheadedness for the Autobots, Guyhawk," the purple Destron intoned lowly, forcing the hissing mech to follow him several steps away from the machine before eventually releasing him. Pleased at the lack of comeback, Drillhorn continued on to seat himself at one of the undisturbed tables on the other side of the room.
"Aft...," the fighter jet grumbled, rolling his optical sensors in displeasure of his aching wrist. It had the unfortunate side effect of putting Hellbat directly in the magenta Destron's line of sight. A look that the spy felt burning against his spinal struts.
"My, my, my... Look what lil' rat decided to come out of his hidey-hole," Guyhawk chortled, closing the distance between the two Destrons, an arm sliding over blue shoulder plating to the lowly breastforce member's dismay. "Ah, covered in that glorious layer of terra filth from crawling on your slimy belly through the vents like normal... I'm surprised you decided to grace us with your presence, Hellbat. Having fun with your new 'promotion'?"
The rafale turned slowly in his seat, beaming brightly up at the over-confident mech. "O-oh, certainly, of course! Lord Deathsaurus knows I'm very poor in the active field of combat, so this was the most wise decision on his part," Hellbat agreed amicably, his vocalizer raised in idiocy. "I certainly couldn't expect the Emperor to waste his time with trivial matters such as this, and the dinoforce would be unsuited in that regard, too. Their clumsiness would get poor Leo killed!"
Guyhawk's lip components curled upwards in cruel humor at the nickname, his free servo jabbing the other jet's forehelm hard. "One would think that you would be impartial to losing your dead-weight," he jeered, visor glinting in direction of the youngling, "Particularly after the hysterical scene you made when you were strapped with the mini bucket-of-bolts. Or have we conveniently forgotten about all your screaming and hollering, like an over-used valve 'bot?"
With the magenta Destron so close, there was no way for Hellbat to retreat or turn his attention elsewhere in deflection. He could only chirp contently at the nasty comments his colleague made, nodding along in feigned compliancy. "Yes, t-that wasn't my best display, especially before our magnanimous Emperor, but I have come to understand my short-comings in that capacity. Now I am content to serve however possible, for the good of Lord Deathsaurus and our revered mission," the spy stammered, neural net beginning to crawl the longer the fighter jet remained in physical contact with his plating.
"And for the pede-licking approval of our gracious lieutenant commander, I bet," Guyhawk chortled darkly, finally drawing away from the blue Destron entirely. He made sure to flick the pile of datapads off of the table before he turned away to leave, cracking one under his heel as he flounced off pretentiously. "You are fragging pathetic, slag-bat."
"Thank you for the valuable input, Guyhawk!," Hellbat crowed demurely, rising up from his seat and bowing several times as he stooped low to collect his scattered possessions. "I'll be sure to reflect on that for the betterment of all my unit members!"
None of the nearby breastforce members spared the blue Destron a second glance; out in the hallway, a loud, stupid rumbling announced the dinoforce's impending arrival. Glad for the reprieve (if only because the reptilian morons' shenanigans took some attention off his own wings), Hellbat turned to reclaim his seat, pausing as he surveyed the sight before him. Komoribreast, having slurped the spilled energon off of the table top, had taken it upon himself to climb up Leozack's frame, nuzzling teal plating for attention and more nibbles. The youngling did not care for the small creature's attentions though. Rigid in his chair, the tiny tomcat hugged his cup of energon to his chestplates as though it were a sacred treasure, while bright optics stared out in an odd mix of rage and fright from under silver bat wings. With a sigh, Hellbat dumped his datapads back onto the table, reaching over to grab his breastanimal.
"C'mon, Komori," he mumbled, plucking the resistant creature from its perch on Leozack's mane, "The youngspark does not want to play with you." Komoribreast squeaked in displeasure at losing his cozy spot, but a couple scratches behind his ears and he was allowing himself to be folded back into his chest-slot shortly after.
Once the breastanimal had been tucked away though, Leozack reacted. "That thing is DISGUSTING!," he roared, young vocalizer bleeding static as it hit its limited range. Hellbat winced at the jump in decibels, glancing over a wing in worry. No one had bothered to look their way yet; it seemed as though the struggle between Rairyu and Gairyu of who would get into the rec room first, created a lovely blanket of sound that hid the teal mechling's outburst. Of course, the spy had little time to enjoy this information.
"Now, now," the older Destron tried to placate, servos patting the air and optics half-shuttered in a smile, "There's no need to be rude. Komori isn't trying to hurt you; he's just a sweet, little creature. He adores sparklings and younglings! And he's a bit of nuzzler if it'll get him extra energon. Isn't that adorable?"
"No, he's a gross rat thing. Grosser than you!," the youngling protested, standing precariously in his chair and chucking the remainder of his food at his caretaker. "Take this swill! I'm not finishing that after your stupid, winged slagger put its filthy lil' claws and snot all over it! I can't believe I thought you were actually decent!"
Hellbat jumped immediately to catch the flying cup, sloshing bits of energon on himself during his panicked fumbling, but managing to retain a good portion of the pink liquid within. But when he glanced back up, it was to catch the tail-end of Leozack's great escape out of the rec room; white wings wriggling under the massive bulk of the dinoforce's reptilian bodies with ease and out of sight completely. Hissing with anxiety, the blue mech tore across the room, shoving the remainder of his ration into Jallguar's dumbfounded servos before throwing himself on Rairyu's broad back.
"Leo! LEO, WAAAAAAAAIT!," he wailed, struggling to squeeze into the narrow space between pretender shell and door frame.
xxXxXxx
Little pedes tapped rapidly down the Thunder Arrow's long corridors, red orbs darting about wildly in confusion. The ship's hallways were so big, diverging and forking back into each other at what felt like random points, with the only intent to further befuddle the poor youngling. Pistons and ligaments over-heating in exertion, Leozack began to slow as he stumbled into yet another dark corridor, coolant pricking at his vision as he grew more upset. Why was this slagging ship always black inside? Did the lights not work? And why did he have to spend every waking moment with a whack-job that couldn't do anything right?!
The tomcat growled through gritted denta, his spark weighed down by a tangled knot of conflicting emotions, kicking at the wall to burn off some of the inner toxicity. Metal rang loudly at the contact, filling the hallway with the sudden burst of noise.
"Hey!," a gruff vocalizer bellowed from far away.
The teal mechling froze, afraid he had been caught already. Looking around himself though revealed that he was still alone.
"Don't do that, you idiot! Are you trying to get us in trouble before we even start?!"
Hesitantly, Leozack began to tip-toe down the corridor, following the source of the shouting.
"A-ack! No!," a second vocalizer squeaked in apology. The youngling perked up; he recognized those vocalizers! "I'm sorry, Goryu-kun!"
"THAT'S GORYU-SAN TO YOU, EGG-BRAIN!"
Around a corner, light pooled in the surrounding black, cutting a distorted, rectangular swathe in the dim hallway. Cautiously, Leozack snuck closer. On the other side of the open doorway, the room glittered in the brightness, but it was the small shuttle docked on the far side of the loading bay that had the tomcat gasping. The modest six-seater vessel was the closest thing to a sign of freedom that the teal Destron had seen in orns. Even better, it's ramp was lowered and unguarded...
Movement from the left had the youngling ducking behind the door frame, wary optic peering back around the metal joist. The big, fat dino-idiot was mounted on his chompy-toothed partner still, his backstruts facing the door as he berated the yellow mech standing on the ground before him with his club; their loud, rambling shouts and fat tears keeping the teal mechling obscured from their attention.
Smirking eagerly, Leozack crawled into the loading bay, hurrying for the open shuttle.
SYCMD: Be kind; give me your mind~
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