[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Belly of The Beast [Whirl, Skirmisher, Ratchet, OP, Odessa]
Oct 28, 2018 20:26:17 GMT -5
Post by Windshield on Oct 28, 2018 20:26:17 GMT -5
Windshield glanced at Skirmisher in a puzzled manner upon the mention of stand-up comedy. Then he started laughing. At first, only a couple of good-natured, awkward giggles. It didn't take long, however, and his laughter turned into a down-right maniacal cackle. He just couldn't stop. Something about the proposal was incredibly funny to him.
But then the laughter trailed off. Windshield let out a couple of wheezes and turned his optics to the sky.
"No. No... I couldn't," he answered in a plain, dry tone.
"The Functionists didn't like smart toasters, poetic memory sticks or funny vacuum cleaners," he continued. "You see, that's what I was back then. A good-for-nothing janitor unit."
Then he shifted his gaze back towards the large Autobot. It was a deadly serious look he gave him, full of vice and contempt.
"So, no. I really couldn't have, Skirmisher. Of course, I appriciate your trivia on these 'humans' regardless."
Windshield let out an exhausted sigh and composed himself. Now wasn't the time to talk about what could have been. No, far more important was what was about to happen now; in the present.
And now meant his arrival.
Loud footfalls, a striking color-scheme, those smybols on his shoulders.
Optimus Prime.
He had arrived. To Windshield's surprise, a single optic locked with his own and then Skirmisher's. The Prime was injured. An interesting detail, one Windshield made a note to remember. But the imposing presence? The dread? It wasn't there anymore. He only felt judged, but not by a being whose intent was to make Windshield suffer. It was more like being judged by a god, or something that didn't seem quite there. Okay, point is, it felt strange.
Of course, that did not prevent him from inspecting the Prime up-close once he closed the distance. Not quite sure about what to say to him or the grumpy medic behind him, Windshield decided it best to let Optimus do the talking and asking.
But then Whirl. A collective sigh. It was always Whirl. He crawled somewhere from behind Optimus and started yammering his routine again. Goodie, whatever would the world do without Whirl.
At that moment Windshield decided to speak up.
"Can you muzzle your lunatic? If I didn't hate what Starscream did to me, or rather what he didn't do, Whirl would be the prime candidate for the worst thing that happened today."
The mech sounded agitated, clearly Whirl was not helping the situation. Or at least he wasn't helping Windshield see the Autobots in a positive light. As far as he was concerned, Whirl's suggestions were all standard Decepticon conduct. The idea that Windshield's words might spite present company, Whirl excluded, crossed his mind only by a margin; was worth the shot if it meant Prime got to parent lock Whirl's vocalizer, right?
But then the laughter trailed off. Windshield let out a couple of wheezes and turned his optics to the sky.
"No. No... I couldn't," he answered in a plain, dry tone.
"The Functionists didn't like smart toasters, poetic memory sticks or funny vacuum cleaners," he continued. "You see, that's what I was back then. A good-for-nothing janitor unit."
Then he shifted his gaze back towards the large Autobot. It was a deadly serious look he gave him, full of vice and contempt.
"So, no. I really couldn't have, Skirmisher. Of course, I appriciate your trivia on these 'humans' regardless."
Windshield let out an exhausted sigh and composed himself. Now wasn't the time to talk about what could have been. No, far more important was what was about to happen now; in the present.
And now meant his arrival.
Loud footfalls, a striking color-scheme, those smybols on his shoulders.
Optimus Prime.
He had arrived. To Windshield's surprise, a single optic locked with his own and then Skirmisher's. The Prime was injured. An interesting detail, one Windshield made a note to remember. But the imposing presence? The dread? It wasn't there anymore. He only felt judged, but not by a being whose intent was to make Windshield suffer. It was more like being judged by a god, or something that didn't seem quite there. Okay, point is, it felt strange.
Of course, that did not prevent him from inspecting the Prime up-close once he closed the distance. Not quite sure about what to say to him or the grumpy medic behind him, Windshield decided it best to let Optimus do the talking and asking.
But then Whirl. A collective sigh. It was always Whirl. He crawled somewhere from behind Optimus and started yammering his routine again. Goodie, whatever would the world do without Whirl.
At that moment Windshield decided to speak up.
"Can you muzzle your lunatic? If I didn't hate what Starscream did to me, or rather what he didn't do, Whirl would be the prime candidate for the worst thing that happened today."
The mech sounded agitated, clearly Whirl was not helping the situation. Or at least he wasn't helping Windshield see the Autobots in a positive light. As far as he was concerned, Whirl's suggestions were all standard Decepticon conduct. The idea that Windshield's words might spite present company, Whirl excluded, crossed his mind only by a margin; was worth the shot if it meant Prime got to parent lock Whirl's vocalizer, right?