beckyh2112 | Stunticon Meme

G1 Breakdown / Dead End or Breakdown & Dead End - 100 ways to die.

G1 Motormaster - fear of the dark

:)

The other Stunticons are curled in vehicle-mode, defragging. Their engines purr on idle, ready to awaken and drive at a moment's notice.

Motormaster sits out on the road, sharpening his sword on his hands. He listens to the song of the night-going insects, the beat of owl's wings, the faint rustle of wind over scrub plants. Out here in the desert, there's nothing between him and the stars and the endless black.

If he turns his head down the road, though, he can see the faint glow of city lights over the horizon.

It's enough.

After Charr, any light is enough.

Edited 2010-06-22 02:03 (UTC)

Hiiiiiiiii, you're awesome. Have I told you that recently?

I had no idea how you'd answer this, and I didn't expect it to be in this way, but it's perfect!

I really like this line:

"Motormaster sits out on the road, sharpening his sword on his hands."

I love the feel to this one especially, I can hear the quiet (if that makes sense!).

Some say the world will end in fire.

"Get up!" Motormaster roars, his face blackened and one optic shattered. He's using his sword to lever himself to his feet, even though Dead End wants to tell him how foolish that is. He is only making himself a target.

But he is Motormaster, and he is angry, and Dead End cannot bring himself to despise the thrill of hope that perhaps Motormaster will be very badly hurt in this encounter.

Drag Strip is at his feet, smoking. Dead End supposes he should do something about that.

The Quintesson war-machine whirrs and chitters as it focuses its heat-beams on Motormaster. His gestalt-leader staggers as one leg explodes into flames.

Dead End kneels and begins to pry open Drag Strip. A Constructicon would have taken his patient to someplace safer, but Constructicons are so optimistic about getting out of life alive. Dead End doesn't see the point.

Wildrider abruptly cackles like a loon over the Stunticon frequency. Then two fast cars, covered in ashes and death, zip out from nowhere, and Breakdown's engine screams.

Dead End can feel his own engine working its way loose.

The Quint war-machine keels over.

Some say in ice.

Hook castigates them all for fools. So does Scrapper, though he's more blunt about it. Bonecrusher just laughs at them.

They barely have time to be castigated, though, because the Autobots attack the Ganymede base. Motormaster is still down and out, Wildrider is barely more than alive from being too close to Breakdown, and Drag Strip has just been put under for surgery.

Breakdown and Dead End are walking wounded. They're not rated for the extreme temperatures outside the base. But Astrotrain is down out there, and they need him flying if anyone is going to get out of this alive.

Dead End knows they're not going to get out alive, but it makes Breakdown happy if they pretend they are.

From what I've tasted of desire,

"For luck," Breakdown says below human hearing, then kisses Dead End.

The Porsche is still reeling when Breakdown dives out from behind cover, vibronic rifle snarling as he sights on the Autobots.

I hold with those who favor fire.

They cut him down in a rain of orange laser blasts. But they focus on him, and Dead End takes off in the direction of Astrotrain.

He knows Breakdown is dead. He knows it, because that is the only thing that could have happened to his gestalt-mate. He knows Breakdown is dead because Wildrider is almost dead, because Motormaster is dying, because Drag Strip is only alive because he intervened.

But if it had to perish twice,

His gestalt-connections call him a liar.

Breakdown is alive.

Breakdown won't be for much longer if he leaves him out there with the Autobots.

I think I know enough of hate

He's supposed to go find Astrotrain. He's supposed to save them all.

They're all dead already.

Except Breakdown isn't.

Except Breakdown will be.

Damn those Autobots.

To say that, for destruction

Dead End checks his rifle. The charge is lower than he would like, but it will be enough.

He knows the terrain here. He knows the Autobots will have to pass through the echoing and cracking little pass before they reach the base proper.

It wouldn't take much to shatter those walls and bury them.

Ice is also great

He doesn't look for Breakdown. He isn't going to draw attention to his gestalt-mate.

Instead he cracks Jazz's visor with a well-placed shot, then takes off like Motormaster is on his tail. The Autobots chase, because they are fools and they will die too.

Just sooner than his brothers will.

And would suffice.

At the end of the pass, he transforms and raises his rifle to his shoulders. He doesn't sight on the charging Autobots, but instead on the walls of the icy pass.

He cannot smile.

That's all right. This doesn't call for smiling.

His finger squeezes the trigger.

(( - "Fire and Ice", Robert Frost ))

Edited 2010-06-30 01:36 (UTC)

Lovely, and bittersweet and very, very Dead End. Thank you!

Motormaster running beer across state lines.

Drag Strip - The kick I need, is getting high and higher. To be the first, I'm the midnight fire.

Wildrider wants to watch the world burn.

"Faster! The smokies are gaining!" Rumble whooped, pounding on the side of Motormaster's door as he leaned out the window. He'd learned, thanks to the hapless Frenzy, that pounding on anything inside of Motormaster's cabin was grounds for eviction and stompage. But outside, all was protected by forcefields.

"There ain't a 'faster'," Motormaster growled. "This is as fast as it gets, runt."

"Then they're gonna catch us!"

Motormaster's side mirror shifted, catching sunlight and reflecting it like a sharp grin. "Yeah. Real shame."

Rumble gulped and glanced back down the road at Prowl and the other Autobots. Sunstreaker's door was torn off, Jazz's rear-axle smoked, a lot of them were dented from their earlier run-in with the Stunticons. But the whole gang was still on the road, and Motormaster was alone.

Rumble paused, optics flicking to the Decepticon symbol in the middle of Motormaster's steering wheel. "Sucks to be them. Dibs on Prowl's flasher-bar!"

Edited 2010-07-23 02:31 (UTC)

Rumble is pretty adorable in this.

And I hate to say it, but Motormaster is a saint for putting up with Rumble.

The roads of Cybertron sing under his tires. It's annoying as fuck, but no one wants to race on Cybertron anyway. Stuck up pricks. They think he's young and stupid, and maybe he is young but he sure as hell isn't stupid.

Cybertron is the most important planet in the Decepticon Empire, everyone says, and he laughs because he knows they're wrong.

Earth's the important planet. His birthplace, the little blue and green planet full of insignificant little squishies. The older Decepticons like to pretend it's nothing, they'll pull out any day now.

Earth is where the energy comes from, and they'll never pull out.

Cybertron is the backwards planet, the shithole of the Empire. It's a broken-down wreck, and Drag Strip hates it even more than he hates Motormaster. Hell, the only Stunticon who remotely likes it is Dead End, and that's just because the Deadster is willing to die anywhere.

Megatron wants them to take the Autobots out, though, because he's like all the other old Decepticons. He thinks Cybertron needs to be dominated, when it really just needs to be abandoned. So here the Stunticons are.

Clearly, Drag Strip needs to convince Wildrider to blow up Cybertron. Somehow.

On Earth, the fastest Autobot Drag Strip had to contend with was Mirage. Sure, Mirage could give Drag Strip a run for his money in terms of pure speed, but the delicate little spy couldn't take a rear-ending without winding up under the medical engineer or whatever the fuck the Autobots called their pet ambulance.

Drag Strip didn't expect Cybertron to be much better.

***

The little green car zipped along, and Drag Strip's engine snarled as he fought to keep up with her. But where the soft corrosion-colored female Autobot just zipped over the road on her vehicle-mode lifters, he had to plow over obstacles and pitfalls. His lifters let him drive anything but he couldn't fly like she could.

She was fast, the bitch. Had to be because of the hover-mode, there was no way in hell any Autobot was this much faster than him.

She laughed, vicious as Motormaster on a good day, and transform-twisted, her pistol coming up. She snapped off a few shots, and Drag Strip laughed them off as they splattered against his forcefield.

He laughed harder at the shock on her face, but then she dropped back into vehicle-mode and put the pedal to the metal.

Drag Strip snarled as he was left in the dust.

***

"Moonracer," Soundwave said placidly. "Soldier under Elita One. Request a dossier from Reflector."

Drag Strip cursed the tapehost for being so unhelpful, then went and cursed at Reflector until the camera got him the dossier. With it, he got enough energon to top his tanks, then threw himself down in a corner with the files.

He read them end-to-end and back, then curled up in vehicle-mode to think.

***

"Race ya!" Drag Strip called as Moonracer pulled away.

She hesitated, and he gunned his engine, slamming broadside into her. She rocked in the air, yelping, one side dipping down to score the already battered street.

"Slagger!" She yelled, then she slammed herself against him before taking off.

Drag Strip transformed to robot-mode on shaky legs and sat down. Since when the hell could an Autobot do that? "Damn. Daaaaaamn."

Since now, evidently.

He grinned, sharp and violent. "Gonna love catching her."

Interesting that you picked Moonracer as the object of Drag Strip's need to be the fastest.

The sun is an angry red ball on the horizon, casting the whole world in cold-burning red. Wildrider knows he's just seeing it through the pollution-haze as they roar towards Detroit, but it's comforting to pretend the sun really will burn everything up.

Fire will crackle, people will scream, buildings will crash and crack and melt in a cacophony of noise. It won't be a silent death. It'll be long and loud, forests roaring as they ignite and burn, rivers hissing into steam, fish sizzling as they boil.

He'll drive through the chaos until his tires melt. He'll sit and listen until his chassis melts. He'll live and live and live in the noise until his lasercore goes dark.

And then he won't be around to hear the silence that comes after.

Edited 2010-07-28 17:50 (UTC)

Wildrider was happy when the Combaticons tried to toss the Earth into the sun, huh? :D

Sibling relations: "It wasn't quite kindness---but it was Motormaster."

Motormaster, injured dignity: "I meant to do that."

Breakdown/Motormaster: Breakdown's most unlikely refuge.

(Edited because I found the other open reply window that I thought I'd lost in the last reboot, and I liked the original wording better than the badly-remembered wording.)

Edited 2010-06-15 04:10 (UTC)

People are staring.

Wildrider's laughing like a loon, and Drag Strip's snarling at Swindle like he can do anything to the Combaticon, and people are staring at him.

Dead End cycles air through his vents in a sigh, and Brawl takes that as an insult. The tank lunges across a third of the mess hall, going for the Porsche and drawing even more optics.

Breakdown's engine starts to whine, rattling loose the bolts holding the mess hall tables to the deck.

A heavy hand settles on his shoulder. "Get out of here," Motormaster rumbles, "'Fore I rip your tires off and feed 'em to you."

Edited 2010-07-30 01:36 (UTC)

*smiles* I like Motormaster just this side of sweet.

Edited 2010-07-31 07:03 (UTC)

"I was buying time for Megatron and Starscream to finish with the fucking molecular disassembler," Motormaster growled for the third time.

Drag Strip snorted. "You got t-boned because you were too busy chasing the wingy bitch to pay attention to the road."

The grey truck's engine snarled, and he lunged forward, tires sending up a spray of gravel.

Drag Strip reversed, weaving back and forth in a zig-zag, managing to keep just out from under his brother's tires. Barely. "Loser! Sore loser."

"You're one to talk, pussy." His injuries hampered him from chasing Drag Strip. Optimus Prime had slammed into him at full speed, creating a false jackknife in Motormaster's trailer where it bent nearly perpendicular to itself. "Can't even lose at fucking cards without throwing a temper tantrum."

"Shove it up your tailpipe," Drag Strip snapped. "I don't have to repair you."

"You don't need to repair me. Breakdown's on his way."

Drag Strip grumbled as Motormaster settled slightly, but he didn't drive any closer to his brother. He wasn't entirely suicidal, not like Dead End and Wildrider behaved.

Still, he'd treasure the recording of Optimus fucking Prime t-boning Motormaster forever.

*snrk*

Decepticons who hide behind others are weak. That's the dogma, that's what everyone sneers and jeers - a Decepticon who needs someone else is a weakling and he's only alive because his 'friend' gets something he wants out of him.

It's the accepted wisdom, too, that Decepticons with wheels used to be Autobots.

The Stunticons are a team, and if you mess with one of them, you mess with them all. There's no accepted wisdom in the world that'll let a person handle the Stunticons, and there's no Decepticon crazy enough to play staring games with the paranoid pale car when he goes scurrying off to the grey truck.

*grins* D'awwwwwww. Protective Motormaster for the win!

* Drag Strip - Obsession. Which Autobot is he obsessed with proving himself better than and why?

* Motormaster - what it takes to ride herd on 4 psychotics with short attention spans.

Police lights blaze and sirens split the night, and the Stunticons scatter every which way.

Drag Strip pushes his speed into the red line, racing faster than the demons in his head. It's not Prowl. It's not Prowl, it's not Prowl, it's just humans. Only humans, stupid, pathetic meatbags.

It's Prowl, his tires sing as he flashes down the highway.

It's not Prowl. He knows better than that, the Autobot is on the other side of the planet, dealing with Octane and Starscream's latest scheme.

His engine roars, It's Prowl. You've got to be smarter and faster and more dangerous.

A bug splats against his windshield, You're not.

Edited 2010-08-02 01:00 (UTC)

Mmmm.. obsession. Nice job of showing it in just a few short lines.

Edited 2010-08-02 04:05 (UTC)

Motormaster knew he was a mean bastard. It was part of his core, like being a transforming truck, like being a Decepticon. Sure, he'd been made that way, but he didn't have to be the way he was made.

He was made to hate Autobots, too, and sure as hell, he hated most of 'em. But some of them he just wanted to hurt and some of them he thought needed purple brands.

He was a mean bastard, and his boys were crazy bastards, and if he didn't keep their damn fool selves in line for them, they sure as hell wouldn't do it for themselves. They'd piss off Hook or Vortex, or someone actually dangerous, and then where'd the hell would they be?

Someone had to take care of them, and he was the only one who could yell loud enough and hit hard enough to make them listen.

I love this!!!
Great characterization on Motormaster^^

Stunticon Meme

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Motormaster, fear of the dark

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Breakdown/Dead End, 100 ways to die

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Motormaster running beer across state lines

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Bonus: Drag Strip

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Drag Strip - The kick I need is getting high and higher. To be the first, I'm the midnight fire.

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Wildrider wants to watch the world burn

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It wasn't quite kindness - but it was Motormaster.

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Motormaster, injured dignity. "I meant to do that."

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Breakdown/Motormaster, Breakdown's most unlikely refuge

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Drag Strip, obsession

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Motormaster, what it takes ride herd on four psychotics with short attention spans

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