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ajremixTitle: This Mess You Made
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 838
Characters: Wreckers, Aerialbots
Summary: Repost. The consequences.
It was a rather unusual situation for the Wreckers to be in as a certain cushion of electricity hung over the room. The Aerialbots sat in an icy silence throughout the briefing with only Silverbolt and occasionally Skydive making any comments or questions on the mission. The Wreckers, somewhat off-put by this (and knowing who exactly to blame, meaning Sandstorm had optics burning into him from all angles) were uncharacteristically quiet.
Sandstorm barely kept a receptor open to the mission objective, just kept glancing at the Aerialbots and Fireflight in particular who sat quiet and unusually focused between Slingshot and Air Raid. He tried to get the red jet’s attention throughout the meeting but every trick he knew wasn’t enough to get even an acknowledgement except from Slingshot who would occasionally try to commit bloody murder with his glares.
Fraggit all- he knew he hurt Fireflight when all was said and done but he hadn’t actually intended to (for once). He really did like the ‘bot, absent-mindedness and all, but some things just came first. Like the Wreckers for one thing. And the war. And himself. Sandstorm was no fool, he knew he was still too self-absorbed to get into any kind of serious relationship. Except now he was shooting himself in the proverbial foot for not taking into consideration that it might’ve been something Fireflight was looking for.
He didn’t mean for it to end the way it did, but Sandstorm had panicked. And now he had the collective animosity of the entire Aerialbot squad directed singularly at him and not one buddy left among the jets. The Wrecker had tried to apologize on several (dozen) occasions but chickened out each time until he convinced himself that Fireflight had gotten over it.
Fat chance.
When they were finally dismissed from the briefing Sandstorm tried to make his way toward Fireflight but Skydive deliberately moved in his path, giving his teammate the time to march stiffly out of the room. Feeling his spark plunge a little, Sandstorm jumped on the tables, running over them and to the doors, ignoring the commotion he left behind. “Fireflight!”
By the way Fireflight’s shoulders jerked Sandstorm knew he heard him, but he didn’t stop. “Hey- Flight! Wait up!” Still nothing. Sandstorm ran up to his side, trying to get his attention. Fireflight didn’t even glance at him, just picked up his pace by half a stride but Sandstorm kept on his trail. “Can we talk? Flight- c’mon!” He grabbed the Aerialbot’s arm to drag him to a stop.
The punch to the faceplate came at him so fast Sandstorm sprawled out on his aft. By the time his optics recalibrated the doors were already shutting behind Fireflight as he stormed into a lift. Suddenly he found a mass of red, white and black standing in front of him and the triplechanger craned his head back to see a very slagged off Slingshot, Air Raid and Skydive (Skydive? Wow, Fireflight really must’ve taken it hard) glaring him. The way they had their fists clenched gave him a pretty fair idea of what their intentions were.
“Aw sl-“ the three jets launched themselves at him, fists and feet first. The other Wreckers set themselves up on the ends of the corridor without a word, redirecting traffic and gawkers. And occasionally pushing a tossed fighter back into the brawl.
Silverbolt stood a few paces from the heart of the battle, arms crossed and foot tapping. Springer went to stand next to him, frowning at the fight. “You know,” he said evenly, “Fireflight did bring it upon himself. It’s not like Sandstorm’s reputation is a secret to anyone.”
“I know.” Came the low reply. “Conversely, Sandstorm did too. You know how it is.”
Of course. Mess with one of them, you mess with them all. Break one of their sparks in that spectacularly thickheaded way Sandstorm had the innate talent for (for all his charm, he never could figure out a way to end a relationship of any length gracefully) was asking for a beat down from the rest. The Wreckers knew this well which was why they weren’t interfering. Maybe, Springer couldn’t help but think, it would make Sandstorm a little more careful with the kind of ‘bots he chose to mess around with in the future.
The two leaders stood there for a moment more before Springer said, “Give ‘em five before you call ‘em off. We still need Sandstorm operational for this mission.”
Silverbolt nodded tightly. “Understood.” Despite the hidden measure of satisfaction in his optics, there was still tension in him. Springer looked back over to the brawling group- Sandstorm was managing to give as good as he got but he was obviously being overpowered. He ducked his head and rubbed at the curve of his helmet.
“You might as well get a couple kicks in yourself.” He told the jet. “Primus knows I would.”
That tension transformed into full-out satisfaction and Silverbolt grinned tightly. “I might.” And stepped toward the fray.
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 838
Characters: Wreckers, Aerialbots
Summary: Repost. The consequences.
It was a rather unusual situation for the Wreckers to be in as a certain cushion of electricity hung over the room. The Aerialbots sat in an icy silence throughout the briefing with only Silverbolt and occasionally Skydive making any comments or questions on the mission. The Wreckers, somewhat off-put by this (and knowing who exactly to blame, meaning Sandstorm had optics burning into him from all angles) were uncharacteristically quiet.
Sandstorm barely kept a receptor open to the mission objective, just kept glancing at the Aerialbots and Fireflight in particular who sat quiet and unusually focused between Slingshot and Air Raid. He tried to get the red jet’s attention throughout the meeting but every trick he knew wasn’t enough to get even an acknowledgement except from Slingshot who would occasionally try to commit bloody murder with his glares.
Fraggit all- he knew he hurt Fireflight when all was said and done but he hadn’t actually intended to (for once). He really did like the ‘bot, absent-mindedness and all, but some things just came first. Like the Wreckers for one thing. And the war. And himself. Sandstorm was no fool, he knew he was still too self-absorbed to get into any kind of serious relationship. Except now he was shooting himself in the proverbial foot for not taking into consideration that it might’ve been something Fireflight was looking for.
He didn’t mean for it to end the way it did, but Sandstorm had panicked. And now he had the collective animosity of the entire Aerialbot squad directed singularly at him and not one buddy left among the jets. The Wrecker had tried to apologize on several (dozen) occasions but chickened out each time until he convinced himself that Fireflight had gotten over it.
Fat chance.
When they were finally dismissed from the briefing Sandstorm tried to make his way toward Fireflight but Skydive deliberately moved in his path, giving his teammate the time to march stiffly out of the room. Feeling his spark plunge a little, Sandstorm jumped on the tables, running over them and to the doors, ignoring the commotion he left behind. “Fireflight!”
By the way Fireflight’s shoulders jerked Sandstorm knew he heard him, but he didn’t stop. “Hey- Flight! Wait up!” Still nothing. Sandstorm ran up to his side, trying to get his attention. Fireflight didn’t even glance at him, just picked up his pace by half a stride but Sandstorm kept on his trail. “Can we talk? Flight- c’mon!” He grabbed the Aerialbot’s arm to drag him to a stop.
The punch to the faceplate came at him so fast Sandstorm sprawled out on his aft. By the time his optics recalibrated the doors were already shutting behind Fireflight as he stormed into a lift. Suddenly he found a mass of red, white and black standing in front of him and the triplechanger craned his head back to see a very slagged off Slingshot, Air Raid and Skydive (Skydive? Wow, Fireflight really must’ve taken it hard) glaring him. The way they had their fists clenched gave him a pretty fair idea of what their intentions were.
“Aw sl-“ the three jets launched themselves at him, fists and feet first. The other Wreckers set themselves up on the ends of the corridor without a word, redirecting traffic and gawkers. And occasionally pushing a tossed fighter back into the brawl.
Silverbolt stood a few paces from the heart of the battle, arms crossed and foot tapping. Springer went to stand next to him, frowning at the fight. “You know,” he said evenly, “Fireflight did bring it upon himself. It’s not like Sandstorm’s reputation is a secret to anyone.”
“I know.” Came the low reply. “Conversely, Sandstorm did too. You know how it is.”
Of course. Mess with one of them, you mess with them all. Break one of their sparks in that spectacularly thickheaded way Sandstorm had the innate talent for (for all his charm, he never could figure out a way to end a relationship of any length gracefully) was asking for a beat down from the rest. The Wreckers knew this well which was why they weren’t interfering. Maybe, Springer couldn’t help but think, it would make Sandstorm a little more careful with the kind of ‘bots he chose to mess around with in the future.
The two leaders stood there for a moment more before Springer said, “Give ‘em five before you call ‘em off. We still need Sandstorm operational for this mission.”
Silverbolt nodded tightly. “Understood.” Despite the hidden measure of satisfaction in his optics, there was still tension in him. Springer looked back over to the brawling group- Sandstorm was managing to give as good as he got but he was obviously being overpowered. He ducked his head and rubbed at the curve of his helmet.
“You might as well get a couple kicks in yourself.” He told the jet. “Primus knows I would.”
That tension transformed into full-out satisfaction and Silverbolt grinned tightly. “I might.” And stepped toward the fray.
