capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

(no subject)

WHO: The Fallen and Shockwave.
WHERE: An unspecified 24-hour diner.
WHEN: The wee hours of the morning, approximately "some time this month."
WARNINGS: Fighting, violence, cruelty to breakfast foods.
SUMMARY: Fallen is sitting on a stash of data stolen from the late Starscream. Shockwave, ~~still heartbroken over his lost love and maybe drunk~~ reaching critical annoyance levels, decides that seeking him out is the best course of action.
FORMAT: YES

Whenever possible, the Fallen preferred to avoid human contact. He had little enough in common with his own species, and frankly, he was still sore about the organics' interference in his past efforts.

But when he rolled out of bed with a craving for something dead and edible that he didn't have to prepare himself, there wasn't much of a choice.

At least at this hour of the morning, there weren't many other people in the diner. It was out of the way, in a bad part of town, and the waitresses were ugly - even more so than the average human female. Besides the food, it didn't have much going for it. Few people had reason to be awake and walking the streets before 4 am anyway.

Fallen set his communicator next to his plate and browsed the Network while he ate. There weren't many entities he'd be pleased to have join him in the City, but it was worth keeping tabs on it in case one of them did make an entrance.

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That was it, he just couldn't handle it anymore. There was so much going on and it was all just pushing and pushing at him, it felt as though his human body was just going to snap in two. Obviously it wasn't seeing as that wasn't possible, not from stress. Still, with Soundwave dead and everything happening without any form of a break for him, Shockwave was at a serious lack of sleep.

Who needed sleep anyway. His warm pillow was dead, Panthro only made up for that to a point, the Decepticon forces were practically nonexistent with everyone dying or being ported out, and their data had been compromised by a member of the Thirteen. Something of which he was not going to idly stand by and let continue.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, the stress, the realization that Soundwave may not be coming back, the fact that he had no Decepticon army. But something had - for that morning - pushed him too far.

Shockwave scooped up his communicator, hacking into the systems best he could, looking for a signal. A specific signal, belonging to the Fallen. If the mech's communicator was online, he'd find him.

It took a few minutes after he had pin pointed the Fallen's location, for him to feed the animals, pull on a sweater and dash out of the house. Obviously not thinking all that logically.

Upon further proof that Shockwave was not acting as logically as he'd have liked himself to be, he'd swung the diner's door open, oviously quite miffed.

"FALLEN!"

Mouth full of french toast, Fallen looked up mid-chew - but so did the handful of other customers present. Men shouting in the middle of the diner was unusual even for this area of town. Usually the more disturbed members of the populace saved their wild shouting for the buses.

Fallen needed only a moment to recognize the man. He didn't recall offering to meet with Shockwave; he wouldn't have, without knowing precisely what powers the other wielded in this incarnation. He possessed the power to track him, apparently, unless Vector had pointed the Decepticon in his direction. That was something he'd have to grill the jet about (in a completely literal sense, if it came to it) later.

However he'd found him, the mech probably wasn't going to leave quietly, if his entrance was any indication.

Restraining an irritated sigh, Fallen lifted a hand and motioned for Shockwave to take a seat across from him, as though he were commanding an underling. His attittude was part natural overconfidence and part entitlement. Pit, in one reality he'd created the Decepticon faction. Whatever angle you examined it from, he had the authority to command them.

Especially when they had the gall to interrupt his breakfast.

The people staring at him were easily ignored, he had one thing and one thing only to focus on. The Fallen himself. A poor move on his part in retrospect, having been the one to have gathered everyone on Cybertron just to remove this one Cybertronian, but this was one thing to focus on.

One thing that did not hurt.

"Tch."

Shockwave slowly made his way over to the Fallen's table, keeping his eyes on him at all times as he sat down. To think, the nerve this mech had. Just casually ordering him to sit down. He was not in the mood.

In fact, he did like french toast, and the Fallen was eating some...

The Decepticon reached out pulling the plate to his side of the table, taking a part of the french toast for himself. Like slag he was going to ask the Fallen to share. He'd just take, he was a Decepticon and that is what they did. They took.

Another bad move in retrospect.

"Give the files back." he kept his voice stern, despite who he was talking to.

If Shockwave were very attentive - and it wouldn't surprise him if he were - the man might have noticed a flash in the Fallen's eyes as he yanked away his plate. It wasn't so much that he cared about the food as it was that the other's defiance rubbed him the wrong way. He grasped the analogy between his theft of Starscream's property and that of his breakfast, but what Shockwave wasn't taking into account was that he had the right to do as he wished. The younger Decepticon did not.

Fallen's hand darted across the gap. He grabbed a fistful of Shockwave's hair and jerked his head into the table.

That got some of the patrons whispering nervously, but no one was looking to do anything more than rubbernecking just then. Violence was probably a frequent sight in this neighbourhood.

"No," he said, and took a sip. Nonchalant, as though he hadn't just made an attempt to give the other man a minor skull fracture.

It was noticed, but hardly unexpected. He hadn't expected the Fallen to like that he had taken the food after all. He was upset, not thinking correctly. Not completely stupid, although his actions were attempting to claim otherwise it seemed.

There was barely any time to react when the Fallen reached out and grabbed onto his hair. All he felt was pulling, certainly some few strands of hair ripping from his scalp, and then the hard harsh table against his cheek.

"Hnnnk-"

For a moment the Decepticon was silent, his head ringing. It hadn't been the gentlest of things, but he hadn't ever thought of the Fallen as a gentle being.

Finally he squirmed, trying to pull himself free from the Thirteen's grip.

"They are not yours."

He was certainly getting the strong impression that the other man wasn't thinking clearly. This was not the cool, logical Decepticon he'd known of on Cybertron. Perhaps the Porter had drawn him from another reality than the one Fallen had assumed? That would be a pity: Shockwave's usefulness to him would be in his logic and reliability, not in picking fights on a whim. Fallen was perfectly capable of being the volatile one himself.

"Don't play the idiot, Shockwave," Fallen said, resisting rolling his eyes. "If you kill a group of Autobots, don't their supplies become your own? What I take becomes mine." Weren't all Decepticon protoforms programmed with this knowledge? He supposed Shockwave predated it.

Fallen placed a finger on the edge of his plate and dragged it back in front of him, then let go of the other's hair. He risked retaliation by doing so but what better way was there to discover the extent of the other's offensive capabilities?

Teeth gritted, as the Fallen spoke, the words doing nothing to help Shockwave's mental and emotional status.

Idiot.

Yes, perhaps, in a way, he was truly playing the fool. For the first time in his life it felt like he was. Perhaps Starscream was to blame, along with this organic form. The seekers memories did reside within him, and upon occasion they did whisper to him. Tell him certain illogical things were alright to do. No.

No. He would not just give in this way.

He righted himself with a displeased noise, fixing his short hair once the Fallen had released him. Silently he reached his hand back out, taking hold of the plate once more. Within a few seconds his hand heated up, faintly glowing purple, and the plate cracked.

"Then I will be taking them back."

He hardly sounded like he was allowing for any other options.

Destructive by design, the Fallen wasn't too sorry to see the plate go. He hadn't had to pay for it yet and he'd already eaten the breakfast sausage - the dead animal matter was the best part of any meal, in his estimation. As for the other's attempt at frightening him, well-

When Shockwave could manifest the same threatening green glow as Unicron's energy, Fallen would consider being apprehensive. Purple was just your average Decepticon.

He didn't respond immediately, choosing to ignore the other's outburst in favour of finishing the last bit of his coffee. When the mug was empty he calmly set it aside. Then he leaned across the table, fixing the other man with a challenging smirk.

"Try it," he hissed.

There was one thing about anger that Shockwave was learning quite quickly.

It involved no planning at all.

Terribly unlike him, a Military Operations Commander, not even considering attack plans, possible strategies, decent tactics. All he knew was that the Fallen was apparently invulnerable. Which really did not bode well for him, and yet here he was.

Anger made you stupid.

And he was still angry.

His fingers twitched as the Fallen chose to ignore him. The idea that the coffee was more appealing than he was, that he was not a threat in the slightest. Frag! He could understand it if were tea, but coffee?!

"You had no right to take them!" he shouted, although why he didn't know. Nothing he'd said about the matter this far, had any impact on the mech before him.

And the Fallen's face was so close now...

The Decepticon threw a punch.

That was it. Nothing special. Just. A normal punch.

If you weren't willing to learn from observation, that left only one option: the hard way. Being a prime example of a stubborn, thick-headed tank himself and accustomed to such behaviour from his tank-kin, the Fallen was entirely used to inflicting the latter form of education on his proteges.

That still didn't make it okay to hit him.

Fallen took the hit on the cheek, head pushed to one side though he didn't make a sound. Part of knocking your lessers back down where they belonged was showing them how little their threats affected you; what kind of response their outbursts would draw. (And Pit, being stuck in human form filled him with an even greater rage than he usually felt. He could use a fight.)

When he turned back to face the other his glare had deepened.

"'Right?' Are you basing your objection on moral grounds?" Worse still, making a case for honour to him, the great Betrayer of their race? Absurd! Something as mutable as morality made a poor foundation for any logical argument. Shockwave really had let himself fall to emotional rule. "You've grown as soft as your flesh, I see."

The next moment he lunged across the table. Fallen grabbed Shockwave by the front of his shirt with both hands and tugged him out of his seat. He shoved him back, hard, onto the table behind them.

The hit didn't seem to do much, not that he had really expected it to. He wasn't the strongest when it came to physical strength, and when he'd been avoiding eating, loosing some weight, that didn't help the matter.

In retrospect, this was a really really bad idea.

"You didn't even kill Starscream, Waspinator did!" he slammed his fist onto the table. "I did not expect that you were no more than a scavenger, Fallen."

Yes, goad the Fallen.

Smart.

"... And I have not grown soft." Not completely. Certain things perhaps, mostly centering around a certain blue - now dead - Decepticon.

The next thing Shockwave knew was pain. He was thrown back against the next table, his body going stiff as it hit. Certainly a cue for some of the customers to move.

The Decepticon coughed, remaining still for a moment. It had been pointed out to him, many months ago, that his back was... somewhat sensitive, and sudden pain shooting through it was not the most comfortable of things. After a few seconds of breathing he launched a kick towards the other mech, lifting a hand - this time not a fist - and shooting some mircowave blasts.

Distance, he had to get the Fallen off him and get some distance. Then he'd blow him up, he deserved it.

Fallen hopped up and out of his seat, over the table, following Shockwave into the next booth. Before he could throw himself on the other again the man had projected something quick and purple from his hand. It was enough to make the Fallen pause. (Primarily because he wasn't accustomed to seeing flesh creatures wield any sort of notable power, he told himself.) It took him a moment to decipher what Shockwave had tried to do to him - heat energy? Against someone who was all too comfortable in the heart of a smelter?

He mentally downgraded Shockwave from idiot to imbecile.

"Starscream never gave me reason to kill him. You, however-" Fallen caught the other's foot as he kicked out, and shoved it back at him. A lack of physical condition wasn't going to do the other man any favours against an opponent with strength well beyond that of the average human. "You're pushing it."

Bad part of town or not, when people started throwing other people around someone was going to call the cops; Fallen decided he could do without the annoyance of being recognized and hounded by the local moral brigade. Clearly it was time to take their disagreement elsewhere.

He lunged forward and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, fisting both hands in the material.

"Let's take this outside." Fallen hauled Shockwave up again. This time he aimed his throw at one of the windows facing the street. (That was where humans traditionally took their fights, wasn't it?)

"Oh am I?" Well the attack didn't seem to work. He should have expected that really, with what he knew of the other.

"Perhaps I am tired of dealing with your scrap! You come and threaten my Cybertron, kidnap my bodyguard, and now even here you are getting in my way!"

What the frag was the Fallen's problem.

The Decepticon made a move to get out of the way, attempting to scramble off the table. Just his luck, he was grabbed by the Fallen before he could even make it to the edge. Being lifted wasn't anything entirely new, but someone lifting him up and chucking him at the window certainly was.

There was an attempt at stabilizing himself with his flight ability, but to no avail. Shockwave broke through the window and rolled against the ground. Pain. Pain. Pain. His hands and face were cut up, as were his jeans and sweater, but due to some kind of luck he hadn't damaged anything vital.

For a while he was motionless, or as motionless as he could be. He didn't exactly want to move, that seemed far more painful than what he wanted. It wasn't often he got into fights since he'd been in the City. Perhaps not the best of things.

"Could we not have used the door?" he groaned, as he moved to wipe some blood off his lip.

Wasn't he supposed to be winning this fight? Or at least holding his own? That had been the idea when he'd decited to track the Fallen.

The sound of glass shattering was inordinately pleasing to him, though not quite as gratifying as the harsh squeal of metal-on-metal he was used to. It still felt good to break something openly.

Fallen ignored the other's complaining for a moment, making his way over to the window. If Shockwave were really insistent on it he could certainly pull him back into the diner and throw him out through the door instead. He peered out from behind a few glass remnants clinging to the window frame. Even gravely ill and dying Decepticons were prone to mouthing off, but Shockwave didn't seem to be bleeding to death. Hurt, but not dead. Good.

There was still some use to be found in him, even if it were only as a convenient punching bag. It would depend how broken he was.

"I'm not sure what you intended to accomplish here, Shockwave. Is this all an attempt to vent your new found inner turmoil?" If so, the man was going about it all wrong. Fallen paused to step outside through the shattered window. He avoided the sharp bits of glass lining the edges for his clothing's sake rather than his skin's: so far any outfit he wore seemed to gain his resistance to heat and flame, but he'd never tried it against glass, and he had only so many pairs of pants. He crossed the rest of the short distance between them and crouched next to Shockwave. "I can assure you I'll find far more of a pleasant emotional release while crushing your spine than you will."

The Decepticon scowled, "I do not have any inner turmoil."

Just terrible anger and depression. Perhaps some guilt, and a few more currently unidentifiable emotions. Alright. Inner turmoil could be used to describe what he was going through, but he was not venting.

"I am not venting." He wasn't so foolish was he? Certainly not. He knew better, than to allow something a simple minded as 'venting' throw him off from his work. His currently work merely involved retrieving stolen Decepticon property.

Shockwave pushed himself up to his hands and knees, shooting a glare at the Fallen next to him. He would rather his back be left alone, that his spine remain intact, and that he continued to have some form of mobility or life for that matter. He quite wished to continue living. He wasn't dead yet, he still had energy. He wouldn't die here. Not now.

It was simple, the Fallen needed to pay (not as much as the Major), and he needed to make that point. The Decepticons were not his little toys to take information from whenever he wished. He sat up.

"And you most certainly are not that good."

A bright flash of light quickly lit up the area as Shockwave opened his palms. The Fallen couldn't fight if his vision was temporarily taken from him, at least he hopped the light it would affect the other mech's eyes in the manner it did everyone else.

Edited 2010-09-29 07:39 (UTC)

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(no subject)

i am loving that summary grampy fallen

you need to grow some treads like a real tank, grandson

it's always with the treads. why can't you just appreciate me for who i am

because you are

amazing? yes i know

you suck at madlibs, grandson. but I guess all treadless freaks do.

i'm not a freak. sob. why did everyone call me that at school.

maybe because you had no face. you freak. :(

it's not my fault i was made that way. you can't blame me for that.

you're right, I blame Primus for that.

yeah see it's his fault.

EVERYTHING is Primus' fault he is a bad daddy.

he is. does that mean you accept me now

maybe if we paint a second eye on you... maybe

we can do that if it'll make you love me.