were-cars ten
Jun. 22nd, 2008 07:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonofdispairsummary: 2007 movieverse. mostly pre-earth: some archetypes are universal. some legends transcend species. and sometimes there's nothing left to do but out race the moons.
disclaimer: names, places and concepts that are recognizable aren't mine. since i shamelessly raided a list of mini-cons from armada for names, i don't even own the oc's. i do own the plot, though.
warnings: battle violence. cussing. lots of weirdness. eventual male pronoun robot / male pronoun robot romance.
Were-Cars of Cybertron: part ten
All of his careful maneuvering was about to be so many iron filings because of a miscalculation.
Melanthios did not let himself glare at the police officer as the black and white talked to the group of mechs he knew were were-motorcycles. Utterly useless things, the lot of them.
At first he'd thought nothing of his ally's activities. The police here couldn't catch a real shapeshifter criminal if said criminal went around with a label painted on his back, and the shapeshifters themselves were so absorbed in their own policies and politics that they hadn't even noticed. But then Nightbeat had called a specialist in shapeshifter crime. Someone competent.
This could have been avoided, if he'd just --
Resolutely, he shook those thoughts out of his processor. What was done was done. Now he had to deal with it.
The police couldn't be allowed to find his ally.
Briefly he considered abandoning his ally to the tender mercies of the law, but dismissed the idea. He still needed the mech after all. And even after Melanthios no longer needed him, he couldn't be allowed to spill the name of his associate.
He needed to either throw the black and white off the trail. Or to get rid of him permanently -- that idea was rather attractive and would placate his ally for a bit, but that would draw even more attention to them as the police took the death of one of their own very seriously.
So how to sidetrack him...
That thought kept him occupied until a were-car -- Melanthios was almost certain he was the Third -- leaned against the wall next to him. Barricade was intimidating for being only average in size, but he, Melanthios always had noted, lacked the confidence that made people sometimes think Rhythm and Redline were bigger than they were. And the bouncer was much bigger than Barricade.
"Looks like your friend's going to be in trouble soon," the smaller 'bot indicated the officer with a nod of his head.
"Why would the police trouble any friend of mine, Barricade?"
Barricade just grinned nastily, "The other cars might have been too absorbed in their own problems to notice -- but it didn't slip past me when Brawl and his mate disappeared and their territory got used for other purposes, especially by someone we'd driven off once before. From there it was easy to track him back to your house."
Before he could contain the reaction, his optics shifted to where the Track's First and Second sat with the other were-cars, then away. He hoped Barricade had not seen.
No such luck. "If they had noticed, the police mech would have already found your friend -- smashed into the ground like his victims. Perhaps there might have been enough left to actually arrest."
"I ... see. What is it you want?" Of course he wanted something -- if he hadn't, Barricade would have told his First or gone directly to the police. As much as Melanthios didn't want to admit it, the car did have the upper hand here.
With a low rumble of satisfaction, the black and white relaxed more fully against the wall. "It occurs to me the foreign police officer -- new to the workings of this city as he is -- wouldn't be nearly as effective without Rhythm leading him around. And we both would benefit if Rhythm were to be ... distracted, wouldn't we?"
Without waiting for a response, Barricade then slipped back to the table with the other were-cars and called Orion over to refill his drink.
Melanthios simply watched the Praxan police officer make his way out of the bar and onto the street.
888
"Rhythm is fond of you."
Prowl whirled around in surprise -- he hadn't noticed the other until he'd spoken. A red 'bot leaned against the wall of the building he'd just passed. No, he corrected himself, taking in tires, headlights, and claws, not just a red 'bot -- a were-car, one who didn't care to hide what he was at the moment. He looked the tiniest bit familiar -- had he been one of the were-cars at the bar earlier? If so, he hadn't been so open about his nature then.
He debated with himself how to answer. Or if an answer was even required. The red car's stance was aggressive, confident. He seemed to loom over Prowl, to take up the entirety of the space he occupied. Aware of the (probably unconscious on the were-car's part) trick this time, Prowl took the extra moment to look at him objectively and determined he probably wasn't all that much bigger than Rhythm. This ... could be anyone, but Prowl rather thought he was either the red enforcer or the First. But that begged the question: why would either of them care about Rhythm's feelings since he wasn't disobeying any of the track's policies?
And just what was meant by "fond"?
Finally Prowl decided that no answer was required and stared back at the red were-car, carefully keeping his body language neutral.
"Nothing to say?"
"Rhythm's fondness or lack thereof is his business," Prowl said back.
The red mech growled and stalked forward challengingly. "Anything that might disrupt my Track is my business."
So this was the First. For a moment Prowl hesitated. This wasn't how he'd wanted the first meeting with the leader of the Iacon Track to go. He needed to be dominant so he could get answers out of the car, but this confrontation wasn't really about Prowl himself and because of that, he needed to submit or else he might be viewed as a rival.
Neutral. Neutral and non-confrontational. He stepped back, to show he wasn't going to challenge the car, but then didn't give anymore ground and held his posture as neutral as he could. He didn't look down, but was careful not to meet the car's optics. The car started to circle him, and Prowl let him, not moving. It was a risk, but Prowl's sensory panels kept track of the mech as easily as his optics would, and turning as though he expected to be attacked might set the were-car off.
"Surely your subject," and Primus, was that surprisingly hard to admit, to remember that the contrary person he'd come to know was under command of another; he'd always known it, had always taken it into account, but saying it was hard, "would not betray you over a new acquaintance."
The car stopped and smiled, without the malicious edge Prowl might have expected. "Of that I have no fear."
Then what do you fear, Prowl wanted, but didn't dare, to ask.
Tension crackled between him and the circling were-car. Then the red mech shook himself, calming with a rattle of armor plates. He reached for one of Prowl's sensory panels which Prowl flicked away, avoiding the touch. "I'm not yours."
"Of course not," he replied with an honest sounding chuckle, then turned away, melting into the shadows with an ease such a brightly colored mech should not have. Prowl didn't relax until he heard the distinctive sound of a full transformation and the roar of a car engine speeding away.
tbc
note: oww ... that was a big plot stick.
disclaimer: names, places and concepts that are recognizable aren't mine. since i shamelessly raided a list of mini-cons from armada for names, i don't even own the oc's. i do own the plot, though.
warnings: battle violence. cussing. lots of weirdness. eventual male pronoun robot / male pronoun robot romance.
Were-Cars of Cybertron: part ten
All of his careful maneuvering was about to be so many iron filings because of a miscalculation.
Melanthios did not let himself glare at the police officer as the black and white talked to the group of mechs he knew were were-motorcycles. Utterly useless things, the lot of them.
At first he'd thought nothing of his ally's activities. The police here couldn't catch a real shapeshifter criminal if said criminal went around with a label painted on his back, and the shapeshifters themselves were so absorbed in their own policies and politics that they hadn't even noticed. But then Nightbeat had called a specialist in shapeshifter crime. Someone competent.
This could have been avoided, if he'd just --
Resolutely, he shook those thoughts out of his processor. What was done was done. Now he had to deal with it.
The police couldn't be allowed to find his ally.
Briefly he considered abandoning his ally to the tender mercies of the law, but dismissed the idea. He still needed the mech after all. And even after Melanthios no longer needed him, he couldn't be allowed to spill the name of his associate.
He needed to either throw the black and white off the trail. Or to get rid of him permanently -- that idea was rather attractive and would placate his ally for a bit, but that would draw even more attention to them as the police took the death of one of their own very seriously.
So how to sidetrack him...
That thought kept him occupied until a were-car -- Melanthios was almost certain he was the Third -- leaned against the wall next to him. Barricade was intimidating for being only average in size, but he, Melanthios always had noted, lacked the confidence that made people sometimes think Rhythm and Redline were bigger than they were. And the bouncer was much bigger than Barricade.
"Looks like your friend's going to be in trouble soon," the smaller 'bot indicated the officer with a nod of his head.
"Why would the police trouble any friend of mine, Barricade?"
Barricade just grinned nastily, "The other cars might have been too absorbed in their own problems to notice -- but it didn't slip past me when Brawl and his mate disappeared and their territory got used for other purposes, especially by someone we'd driven off once before. From there it was easy to track him back to your house."
Before he could contain the reaction, his optics shifted to where the Track's First and Second sat with the other were-cars, then away. He hoped Barricade had not seen.
No such luck. "If they had noticed, the police mech would have already found your friend -- smashed into the ground like his victims. Perhaps there might have been enough left to actually arrest."
"I ... see. What is it you want?" Of course he wanted something -- if he hadn't, Barricade would have told his First or gone directly to the police. As much as Melanthios didn't want to admit it, the car did have the upper hand here.
With a low rumble of satisfaction, the black and white relaxed more fully against the wall. "It occurs to me the foreign police officer -- new to the workings of this city as he is -- wouldn't be nearly as effective without Rhythm leading him around. And we both would benefit if Rhythm were to be ... distracted, wouldn't we?"
Without waiting for a response, Barricade then slipped back to the table with the other were-cars and called Orion over to refill his drink.
Melanthios simply watched the Praxan police officer make his way out of the bar and onto the street.
888
"Rhythm is fond of you."
Prowl whirled around in surprise -- he hadn't noticed the other until he'd spoken. A red 'bot leaned against the wall of the building he'd just passed. No, he corrected himself, taking in tires, headlights, and claws, not just a red 'bot -- a were-car, one who didn't care to hide what he was at the moment. He looked the tiniest bit familiar -- had he been one of the were-cars at the bar earlier? If so, he hadn't been so open about his nature then.
He debated with himself how to answer. Or if an answer was even required. The red car's stance was aggressive, confident. He seemed to loom over Prowl, to take up the entirety of the space he occupied. Aware of the (probably unconscious on the were-car's part) trick this time, Prowl took the extra moment to look at him objectively and determined he probably wasn't all that much bigger than Rhythm. This ... could be anyone, but Prowl rather thought he was either the red enforcer or the First. But that begged the question: why would either of them care about Rhythm's feelings since he wasn't disobeying any of the track's policies?
And just what was meant by "fond"?
Finally Prowl decided that no answer was required and stared back at the red were-car, carefully keeping his body language neutral.
"Nothing to say?"
"Rhythm's fondness or lack thereof is his business," Prowl said back.
The red mech growled and stalked forward challengingly. "Anything that might disrupt my Track is my business."
So this was the First. For a moment Prowl hesitated. This wasn't how he'd wanted the first meeting with the leader of the Iacon Track to go. He needed to be dominant so he could get answers out of the car, but this confrontation wasn't really about Prowl himself and because of that, he needed to submit or else he might be viewed as a rival.
Neutral. Neutral and non-confrontational. He stepped back, to show he wasn't going to challenge the car, but then didn't give anymore ground and held his posture as neutral as he could. He didn't look down, but was careful not to meet the car's optics. The car started to circle him, and Prowl let him, not moving. It was a risk, but Prowl's sensory panels kept track of the mech as easily as his optics would, and turning as though he expected to be attacked might set the were-car off.
"Surely your subject," and Primus, was that surprisingly hard to admit, to remember that the contrary person he'd come to know was under command of another; he'd always known it, had always taken it into account, but saying it was hard, "would not betray you over a new acquaintance."
The car stopped and smiled, without the malicious edge Prowl might have expected. "Of that I have no fear."
Then what do you fear, Prowl wanted, but didn't dare, to ask.
Tension crackled between him and the circling were-car. Then the red mech shook himself, calming with a rattle of armor plates. He reached for one of Prowl's sensory panels which Prowl flicked away, avoiding the touch. "I'm not yours."
"Of course not," he replied with an honest sounding chuckle, then turned away, melting into the shadows with an ease such a brightly colored mech should not have. Prowl didn't relax until he heard the distinctive sound of a full transformation and the roar of a car engine speeding away.
tbc
note: oww ... that was a big plot stick.
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-23 07:04 pm (UTC)I just hope no one I like gets killed...(not like *that* never happens...stupid movies)
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Date: 2008-06-23 08:25 pm (UTC)