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ajremixTitle: No Survivors 7
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2062
Characters: Whirl, Broadside, Twin Twist, Scoop, Slag, Grimlock
Summary: Character death. Death is not the greatest pain in life. The greatest pain belongs to those left alive. Note: While this draws elements from my (sprawling) drabble series What’s Wrong with a Little Destruction?, it’s not necessary to read it to understand the fic, only to get the full effect. Special thanks to Vaeru, Cafei and Meallanmouse for being my betas
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Ever since the vigil, it seemed Twin Twist spent all his time with Whirl- something that normally would’ve shocked all the Wreckers (Twin Twist and Whirl included) due to their opposite views of personal space. The driller felt as if he were imposing, staying close to the helo, putting an uncertain hand to white armor, recharging in the slim berth as Whirl sat nearby. But every time Twin Twist thought to apologize or ask if the taller mech wanted him to leave, Whirl would always pull him close and say ‘I don’t mind’.
Because he knew that Twin Twist needed someone to be there, needed to reassure himself through touch. And even though Whirl needed space and privacy, with Topspin floundering and Roadbuster emotionally distant and Sandstorm locked away somewhere and Scoop seeming to avoid everyone, all that really left was himself and Broadside. And while the larger triplechanger was there to pull Twin Twist away and give Whirl that time alone he needed, Broadside was also the only one with both the wits and patience to deal with lurking Autobots on a day to day basis. It seemed to Whirl that the only ones who seemed to care to keep the strike force supplied and in contact with the outside were himself and Broadside. And it seemed to Whirl the others didn’t care about the team or each other, and so he found himself willingly putting up with Twin Twist constantly curled under his arm.
And he found he really didn’t mind so much. He found he was afraid if he turned Twin Twist away, the last thread of the Wreckers would snap, and he’d no longer have a home.
The helo sat at Broadside’s computer interface, trying to keep Xantium up to date with recent security upgrades, but couldn’t make sense of all the protocols. He bent his head, resting his optic ridge against the bend of his wrist. He wondered where the hell Scoop was.
On his berth Broadside, rumbled lowly, Twin Twist splayed out across his lap. “You should take a break. You’ve been at it for cycles.”
“Can’t,” he mumbled back. “Needs to get done.”
“We could get Ironhide or Red Alert to update it.”
“No.” It wasn’t exactly snappish, but it was sharp. “We don’t need them. We’re not supposed to need anyone.” They were supposed to depend only on each other.
“Whirl,” Broadside rumbled insistently, “take a break.”
“And do what? Sit quietly? Hope someone else comes back to us? Hope someone else doesn’t leave us?” But Whirl’s hands dropped, hanging limply at his sides. “We’re falling apart, Side,” he said, tight and cracking. “Nobody cares enough to keep us together.”
“I care. You care. Aren’t we enough?”
He snorted. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“I care, too.”
Broadside’s optics flickered downward, and Whirl slowly turned in his seat. Twin Twist, still exhausted but alert, looked back into his one optic. “I don’t want to lose any of you.”
“I wish it were as easy as wanting, Twist, but-“
“But what’s wrong with wanting?” Broadside returned. “If you want and act on that want, it’s a better chance of getting it than just waiting, isn’t it? Even if everyone else thinks it’s impossible, at least you won’t regret not having ever tried.”
Whirl didn’t want to argue. He was tired, and he was emotionally spent, and he just wanted his family back. “What do you think we should do, then?”
“Ratchet went to see Spin, and I think Fireflight is still with Sandstorm. I haven’t heard anything from Roadbuster at all.”
“He’s just been hiding away,” Twin Twist supplied. “He’s the most shook up and afraid of all of us. He needs our support.”
“All of us,” Broadside added. “We need to figure out what’s going on with Scoop.”
That simple declaration made all three mechs lapse into silence. Out of all of them, Scoop’s sudden withdrawal was probably the most surprising. With his strange brand of optimism and energetic disposition and excitable manner, it was a shock- almost painfully so –to have him avoiding them. They all knew the main reason Scoop became a Wrecker was because of Springer, but the thought that, after all this time, he had no other reason to stay… it hurt. And they almost didn’t want to know what was going through his processor in case that really was what he thought.
“Xantium,” Whirl said a little hollowly, “can you locate Scoop?”
An answer came up on the monitor. He was on the Hub. The fact that he had to find solace outside of the ship- outside of his team was almost enough for Whirl to just give up on it at that moment. But Broadside had a hand to his arm and urged him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go see him.”
The three of them moved through the corridors in a sullen line, trying hard to ignore the downturned optics and muted conversations as they passed. Whirl- in the front and having a rough time recharging since, well, since then –occasionally trembled on his slender legs, and once as they moved off a lift, they nearly gave out on him. The feel of Twin Twist’s hands on his back and the soft, “I’m right here,” strengthened his limbs. Whirl was, simply put, the least liked of the Wreckers outside of their team; he wasn’t even particularly well liked despite his high rank in the Security Force prior to the war. But he hadn’t cared enough to be anything but a crude prick to them. Whirl had found his family, a place where he belonged. He needed no one’s friendship but the other Wreckers, and a selfish part of him never wanted to let any of them go.
But now they were slipping between his fingers, and he didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. If Twin Twist and Broadside weren’t there, Whirl didn’t know what he’d do with himself. After being a Wrecker for so long, so very long, how could he be anything else? How could he be satisfied with that?
As they entered the common area where Xantium had said Scoop was at, Whirl wondered how any of them could.
Scoop saw them coming up on his sensors- he had to have because he refused to look in their direction, kept himself carefully still as if he could will himself invisible. And when the three mechs sat around him he tried to shrink into himself, shovel quivering for a moment as if it were about to come down over his head and hide him from view.
No one spoke, realizing they didn’t even know what to say to each other. They sat, not meeting each other’s gazes, not moving, not speaking. Several times Twin Twist fidgeted as if he were going to say something but never opened his mouth, Broadside looked up and out the windows lining the deck and then down at the table again. Scoop never once lifted his head, and Whirl sat, staring at the downturned curve of his helmet, and saw the other Autobots around them trying to not look as if they were watching and whispering. None of them could say a word.
“Hey!”
Heads from their table looked up, then back down with a groan. “Primus,” Twin Twist muttered, “not them. Not now.”
Even as they tried to hide (and not look like they were), the Dinobots saw them anyway, stalking forward angrily. Slag had point, Grimlock off doing whatever it was he felt like doing at that moment. While the triceratops was snarling, the other Dinobots looked more grim than angry.
“Wreckers go back in field,” Slag snapped at them. “Dinobots tired doing Wreckers’ job!”
“Welcome to the club,” Whirl muttered. “As if we weren’t doing your job for a couple million years.”
“That different. Dinobots in stasis. Wreckers just lazy.”
Four sets of optics snapped to Slag, burning at the accusation. “You better watch the words that come out of your vocalizer,” Broadside said lowly. “Or you’ll find them being stuffed back in.”
But Slag didn’t back down, just crossed his arms and lifted his head haughtily. “Springer deserve respect and remembrance. This disgraceful. Wreckers not respect Springer. Wreckers useless.”
It was about that moment Grimlock came in one of the side doors, just in time to see Scoop shoot up to his feet. Other Autobots were getting up out of their seats, and most of them were moving away from the two teams. Grimlock felt the buzz of a dozen comm links opening up- most likely to warn command of a potentially rough fallout about to take place in the common area.
“Get fragged,” the digger said simply, but his tone spoke deadly volumes.
Twin Twist, still seated, glared at Slag as piercingly as his drills would. “Do not start this,” he told Slag slowly. “Not right now.”
There was a buzzing on Grimlock’s comm from command, alerting him to what was go on. He told them he’d take care of a fight if one broke out. Not many others would be able to take on his team, after all.
“No?” The other Dinobots spread themselves subtly, ready to move and restrain the moment a Wrecker made any sudden lunges. “Wreckers want just sulk then? Wreckers want be weak?”
Scoop surged forward, but Snarl caught him around the shoulder component and pulled the smaller mech back against his much broader chest. “Open your trash-spewing mouth one more time and I’ll shove a rifle barrel down it!”
Scoop’s teammates stood up the moment Snarl put a hand on him, but the Dinobot didn’t make any aggressive moves, just kept him detained. They hesitated, no longer certain what they should do- now or ever. Grimlock stood quietly in the shadows, waiting to see what would happen.
Slag’s sneer grew, and he snorted in return. “Slag don’t think so. Spare Parts talk big but Spare Parts coward. Real mech’s leader die, real mech no back down. If Spare Parts have no fire, Spare Parts not worth effort. Spare Parts weak.”
The other Wreckers growled, and Scoop flailed wildly in Snarl’s grip. “Frag you, smelting analogue-processed, half-clocked glitch reject! What the frag would you know about anything!?” He kicked back at Snarl’s legs- barely denting the thick armor –and twisted so hard the Dinobot thought he’d wrench a joint. “Springer made the Wreckers! We are who we are because of him! He was the entire reason why I wanted to become one so slotting badly!”
“Why no quit, Spare Parts?” Slag snarled in the shovel’s face. Scoop looked up at him with so much pain and fury and loss, but he stopped struggling. “If he make Wreckers, Springer death make Wreckers nothing. So quit. Stop being coward. Stop making Wreckers pathetic.”
“Say that again,” Scoop said quietly, murderously, “and I’ll kill you.”
“If Wreckers mean so much- if teammates mean that much –stop acting like fledgling.”
Scoop jerked so hard in Snarl’s hold he nearly slipped out. “Shut up! Useless slagging piece of garbage- shut the frag up! What would you do if you lost Grimlock!?”
At the question the tyrannosaurus made to move out of the doorway, to end this rampant display of stupidity. Slag gripped hard at Scoop’s helmet and forced his head back so when the Dinobot hissed at him their helmets scraped together.
“Fight,” he growled. “Slag keep fighting because that what Slag do ‘til Slag die, that what Grimlock need Slag do. That honor what Grimlock do for Slag. Better than Spare Parts just giving up. Springer not need weak ‘bots. If Spare Parts weak, Spare Parts not true Wrecker, Spare Parts waste Springer’s time.”
Scoop hung limply in Snarl’s grasp, processor shocked as the words rearranged themselves in his CPU. At the triceratops’s nod, Snarl let the Wrecker go, and he- along with the rest of the Dinobots –followed Slag out of the silent common room. Grimlock kept watch from the side door as his team left, as the other Wreckers approached Scoop with light touches and soft words, as Scoop murmured back and squeezed their hands and led them out with sense dawning in the back of his optics. Grimlock watched them all with his arms crossed over his chest, and his optic band narrowed. And, somehow, he felt proud.
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2062
Characters: Whirl, Broadside, Twin Twist, Scoop, Slag, Grimlock
Summary: Character death. Death is not the greatest pain in life. The greatest pain belongs to those left alive. Note: While this draws elements from my (sprawling) drabble series What’s Wrong with a Little Destruction?, it’s not necessary to read it to understand the fic, only to get the full effect. Special thanks to Vaeru, Cafei and Meallanmouse for being my betas
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Ever since the vigil, it seemed Twin Twist spent all his time with Whirl- something that normally would’ve shocked all the Wreckers (Twin Twist and Whirl included) due to their opposite views of personal space. The driller felt as if he were imposing, staying close to the helo, putting an uncertain hand to white armor, recharging in the slim berth as Whirl sat nearby. But every time Twin Twist thought to apologize or ask if the taller mech wanted him to leave, Whirl would always pull him close and say ‘I don’t mind’.
Because he knew that Twin Twist needed someone to be there, needed to reassure himself through touch. And even though Whirl needed space and privacy, with Topspin floundering and Roadbuster emotionally distant and Sandstorm locked away somewhere and Scoop seeming to avoid everyone, all that really left was himself and Broadside. And while the larger triplechanger was there to pull Twin Twist away and give Whirl that time alone he needed, Broadside was also the only one with both the wits and patience to deal with lurking Autobots on a day to day basis. It seemed to Whirl that the only ones who seemed to care to keep the strike force supplied and in contact with the outside were himself and Broadside. And it seemed to Whirl the others didn’t care about the team or each other, and so he found himself willingly putting up with Twin Twist constantly curled under his arm.
And he found he really didn’t mind so much. He found he was afraid if he turned Twin Twist away, the last thread of the Wreckers would snap, and he’d no longer have a home.
The helo sat at Broadside’s computer interface, trying to keep Xantium up to date with recent security upgrades, but couldn’t make sense of all the protocols. He bent his head, resting his optic ridge against the bend of his wrist. He wondered where the hell Scoop was.
On his berth Broadside, rumbled lowly, Twin Twist splayed out across his lap. “You should take a break. You’ve been at it for cycles.”
“Can’t,” he mumbled back. “Needs to get done.”
“We could get Ironhide or Red Alert to update it.”
“No.” It wasn’t exactly snappish, but it was sharp. “We don’t need them. We’re not supposed to need anyone.” They were supposed to depend only on each other.
“Whirl,” Broadside rumbled insistently, “take a break.”
“And do what? Sit quietly? Hope someone else comes back to us? Hope someone else doesn’t leave us?” But Whirl’s hands dropped, hanging limply at his sides. “We’re falling apart, Side,” he said, tight and cracking. “Nobody cares enough to keep us together.”
“I care. You care. Aren’t we enough?”
He snorted. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“I care, too.”
Broadside’s optics flickered downward, and Whirl slowly turned in his seat. Twin Twist, still exhausted but alert, looked back into his one optic. “I don’t want to lose any of you.”
“I wish it were as easy as wanting, Twist, but-“
“But what’s wrong with wanting?” Broadside returned. “If you want and act on that want, it’s a better chance of getting it than just waiting, isn’t it? Even if everyone else thinks it’s impossible, at least you won’t regret not having ever tried.”
Whirl didn’t want to argue. He was tired, and he was emotionally spent, and he just wanted his family back. “What do you think we should do, then?”
“Ratchet went to see Spin, and I think Fireflight is still with Sandstorm. I haven’t heard anything from Roadbuster at all.”
“He’s just been hiding away,” Twin Twist supplied. “He’s the most shook up and afraid of all of us. He needs our support.”
“All of us,” Broadside added. “We need to figure out what’s going on with Scoop.”
That simple declaration made all three mechs lapse into silence. Out of all of them, Scoop’s sudden withdrawal was probably the most surprising. With his strange brand of optimism and energetic disposition and excitable manner, it was a shock- almost painfully so –to have him avoiding them. They all knew the main reason Scoop became a Wrecker was because of Springer, but the thought that, after all this time, he had no other reason to stay… it hurt. And they almost didn’t want to know what was going through his processor in case that really was what he thought.
“Xantium,” Whirl said a little hollowly, “can you locate Scoop?”
An answer came up on the monitor. He was on the Hub. The fact that he had to find solace outside of the ship- outside of his team was almost enough for Whirl to just give up on it at that moment. But Broadside had a hand to his arm and urged him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go see him.”
The three of them moved through the corridors in a sullen line, trying hard to ignore the downturned optics and muted conversations as they passed. Whirl- in the front and having a rough time recharging since, well, since then –occasionally trembled on his slender legs, and once as they moved off a lift, they nearly gave out on him. The feel of Twin Twist’s hands on his back and the soft, “I’m right here,” strengthened his limbs. Whirl was, simply put, the least liked of the Wreckers outside of their team; he wasn’t even particularly well liked despite his high rank in the Security Force prior to the war. But he hadn’t cared enough to be anything but a crude prick to them. Whirl had found his family, a place where he belonged. He needed no one’s friendship but the other Wreckers, and a selfish part of him never wanted to let any of them go.
But now they were slipping between his fingers, and he didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. If Twin Twist and Broadside weren’t there, Whirl didn’t know what he’d do with himself. After being a Wrecker for so long, so very long, how could he be anything else? How could he be satisfied with that?
As they entered the common area where Xantium had said Scoop was at, Whirl wondered how any of them could.
Scoop saw them coming up on his sensors- he had to have because he refused to look in their direction, kept himself carefully still as if he could will himself invisible. And when the three mechs sat around him he tried to shrink into himself, shovel quivering for a moment as if it were about to come down over his head and hide him from view.
No one spoke, realizing they didn’t even know what to say to each other. They sat, not meeting each other’s gazes, not moving, not speaking. Several times Twin Twist fidgeted as if he were going to say something but never opened his mouth, Broadside looked up and out the windows lining the deck and then down at the table again. Scoop never once lifted his head, and Whirl sat, staring at the downturned curve of his helmet, and saw the other Autobots around them trying to not look as if they were watching and whispering. None of them could say a word.
“Hey!”
Heads from their table looked up, then back down with a groan. “Primus,” Twin Twist muttered, “not them. Not now.”
Even as they tried to hide (and not look like they were), the Dinobots saw them anyway, stalking forward angrily. Slag had point, Grimlock off doing whatever it was he felt like doing at that moment. While the triceratops was snarling, the other Dinobots looked more grim than angry.
“Wreckers go back in field,” Slag snapped at them. “Dinobots tired doing Wreckers’ job!”
“Welcome to the club,” Whirl muttered. “As if we weren’t doing your job for a couple million years.”
“That different. Dinobots in stasis. Wreckers just lazy.”
Four sets of optics snapped to Slag, burning at the accusation. “You better watch the words that come out of your vocalizer,” Broadside said lowly. “Or you’ll find them being stuffed back in.”
But Slag didn’t back down, just crossed his arms and lifted his head haughtily. “Springer deserve respect and remembrance. This disgraceful. Wreckers not respect Springer. Wreckers useless.”
It was about that moment Grimlock came in one of the side doors, just in time to see Scoop shoot up to his feet. Other Autobots were getting up out of their seats, and most of them were moving away from the two teams. Grimlock felt the buzz of a dozen comm links opening up- most likely to warn command of a potentially rough fallout about to take place in the common area.
“Get fragged,” the digger said simply, but his tone spoke deadly volumes.
Twin Twist, still seated, glared at Slag as piercingly as his drills would. “Do not start this,” he told Slag slowly. “Not right now.”
There was a buzzing on Grimlock’s comm from command, alerting him to what was go on. He told them he’d take care of a fight if one broke out. Not many others would be able to take on his team, after all.
“No?” The other Dinobots spread themselves subtly, ready to move and restrain the moment a Wrecker made any sudden lunges. “Wreckers want just sulk then? Wreckers want be weak?”
Scoop surged forward, but Snarl caught him around the shoulder component and pulled the smaller mech back against his much broader chest. “Open your trash-spewing mouth one more time and I’ll shove a rifle barrel down it!”
Scoop’s teammates stood up the moment Snarl put a hand on him, but the Dinobot didn’t make any aggressive moves, just kept him detained. They hesitated, no longer certain what they should do- now or ever. Grimlock stood quietly in the shadows, waiting to see what would happen.
Slag’s sneer grew, and he snorted in return. “Slag don’t think so. Spare Parts talk big but Spare Parts coward. Real mech’s leader die, real mech no back down. If Spare Parts have no fire, Spare Parts not worth effort. Spare Parts weak.”
The other Wreckers growled, and Scoop flailed wildly in Snarl’s grip. “Frag you, smelting analogue-processed, half-clocked glitch reject! What the frag would you know about anything!?” He kicked back at Snarl’s legs- barely denting the thick armor –and twisted so hard the Dinobot thought he’d wrench a joint. “Springer made the Wreckers! We are who we are because of him! He was the entire reason why I wanted to become one so slotting badly!”
“Why no quit, Spare Parts?” Slag snarled in the shovel’s face. Scoop looked up at him with so much pain and fury and loss, but he stopped struggling. “If he make Wreckers, Springer death make Wreckers nothing. So quit. Stop being coward. Stop making Wreckers pathetic.”
“Say that again,” Scoop said quietly, murderously, “and I’ll kill you.”
“If Wreckers mean so much- if teammates mean that much –stop acting like fledgling.”
Scoop jerked so hard in Snarl’s hold he nearly slipped out. “Shut up! Useless slagging piece of garbage- shut the frag up! What would you do if you lost Grimlock!?”
At the question the tyrannosaurus made to move out of the doorway, to end this rampant display of stupidity. Slag gripped hard at Scoop’s helmet and forced his head back so when the Dinobot hissed at him their helmets scraped together.
“Fight,” he growled. “Slag keep fighting because that what Slag do ‘til Slag die, that what Grimlock need Slag do. That honor what Grimlock do for Slag. Better than Spare Parts just giving up. Springer not need weak ‘bots. If Spare Parts weak, Spare Parts not true Wrecker, Spare Parts waste Springer’s time.”
Scoop hung limply in Snarl’s grasp, processor shocked as the words rearranged themselves in his CPU. At the triceratops’s nod, Snarl let the Wrecker go, and he- along with the rest of the Dinobots –followed Slag out of the silent common room. Grimlock kept watch from the side door as his team left, as the other Wreckers approached Scoop with light touches and soft words, as Scoop murmured back and squeezed their hands and led them out with sense dawning in the back of his optics. Grimlock watched them all with his arms crossed over his chest, and his optic band narrowed. And, somehow, he felt proud.
