Well After Two
Title: Well After Two
Chapter: Interlude the Third
Fandom: Transformers 2007
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit gained. This is a fanwork.
Characters/Pairings: Dead End, Elita, Starscream, Stockade, Lyzack, etc.
Summary: Suggestive/Recovery from battle.
Notes: This unofficially takes place in the 'Target Exclusive' alter-continuity of the movie-verse (where Jazz lives and is sporting a sexy G1 redeco, the Decepticons have ties to corporate America, and scouts are everywhere).
The sleek black Viper had been so entangled with what he'd been doing that he'd missed the onset of the battle in the parking lot. He'd had... fanmail. And it had confused him - there were so many humans who claimed to understand him and feel his pain at continued existance. Yet...
Still trying to figure out the meaning of it all - pointless, because it had none - Dead End pulled around from where he'd been parked behind a dumpster (which apparently smelled of organic death) just in time to see the yellow Camaro and purple motorcycle flee.
"Elita," Dead End said to himself as he sped over to her still-sparking body.
She mumbled something and grabbed at the side of his door, leaving long scratches in the paint. The vibrations resounded through him and he shivered. It felt kinda good.
"Get in," he said. "If you can."
There was more scraping of metal on metal as he opened his driver's side door to let her crawl in. To fit her bulk, he let her shred his interior. Someone would just fix it anyway, though it was pointless. It would just get destroyed again...
Whatever Elita was saying, he couldn't understand it. The language wasn't Cybertronian and wasn't one of the dozens of Earth languages that Dead End had downloaded. He sighed, sinking a bit on his shocks as he closed the door. One of Elita's feet hit the door and she snarled.
"I'll take you back," Dead End said as they headed towards the other end of the lot. Sirens were beginning to wail in the distance. "Someone will fix you up. If you make it that long."
Another muttered something and a bit of the stuff that made up one seat was flung hard enough to hit the windshield and stick on the dash.
Dead End sped up a bit. Nothing left to do but get Elita back to base. He had the worst luck - he'd been partnered with someone who couldn't even manage to get them both scrapped.
"Hold still," Lyzack demanded as she finished touching up the paint on his door. A moment later, she clamped a hand down that almost left scratches bigger than the ones she was fixing. "I said..."
"Pointless," Dead End said. "I'm just going to go out and have something worse happen. Maybe this time I'll get offlined..."
One more quick coat and a half blast with one of her thusters and Lyzack released him. "Begone," she said wearily. "Go make sure Elita is getting some proper rest instead of storming around here like all fury."
Dead End wanted to stomp out the door but couldn't make the effort. Besides, their makeshift base was in awful enough shape already. Finding an area of abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere hadn't been terribly easy and the last thing they needed was for one of them to collapse. Especially on Lyzack, who was probably the nicest Decepticon he'd ever met. That confused him.
Since being partnered (temporarily, of course) with Elita, he'd taken the liberty of tracking her whenever they were apart. At least she was stationary, which was a good thing. But her energy signature was erratic. Lyzack wouldn't be happy if Elita was back in the makeshift infirmary...
Dead End froze, however, just before heading into the building Elita was in. He hadn't even paid attention to the energy signature that went along with hers - Starscream. Starscream hadn't even been on the planet in weeks and he just had to show up right after Elita had been repaired. Creeping over to one of the glass block windows, Dead End adjusted his sensors to at least get an infared image of what was going on. He'd heard that Starscream had taken Elita as a mate, but that went against everything Dead End thought he knew about Starscream. Like many of the others, he'd simply thought that Starscream's interest in Elita was purely symbolic. She was a trophy - a trophy just as quick-minded and deadly as any Decepticon.
Adjusting his sensors again, Dead End could almost hear what they were saying. Elita was explaining her injuries, Dead End surmised, as she drew a hand up her chasis. Starscream reached and gently picked her up, letting her perch on his arm while he traced the same path with his other hand. Before Dead End could see anything else (and perhaps thankfully before he could see anything else), a black SUV pulled along side of him and honked.
Dead End focused his attention on Stockade, one of Starscream's most loyal followers. Of course he'd be around - Starscream was around, though Stockade didn't seem to be actively enforcing Starscream's privacy.
"What are you doing?" Stockade asked, not bothering to transform.
"Looking for something to do," Dead End fibbed. It was almost the truth.
"Airstrip is clear," Stockade said. "We're gonna race."
For a variety of reasons that Dead End didn't see any effort in expanding on, 'race' and 'Stockade' didn't belong in the same thought.
"Yeah, I'll do that," Dead End said half-distracted by a distinct fluctuation in Elita's energy signal. He really should have stopped paying attention to her and he thought that he had but...
A little racing would clear his processors. Or be the end of him. Whichever it was, he didn't much care.
Drink Lemonade! Tip Your Waitress!