Soooooo I have been gone for QUITE a long time. Senior years has been hectic, papers in finals n ish oh noeessss! . but I finally got some time to write. I've been out of the game so I thought this would help me get my writing skills back up! ^_^
Thought I try one of those 28 character meme thingies…hehehe, so I chose the Aerialbots…idk if it's going to be AS good as some of the others, but I'll do my best
It was certainly the hottest day of the year. Oh sure, during the summer it was to be expected. But certain days during this time of the year, were on the fence between "summertime hot" and "insanely slagging hot as the pit hot." Today was one of those days. It was a wholly unbearable heat, but what made it even more unbearable but was that this heat wanted to play games. It annoyed you, tugged at your skin, dared you to move so that you would spontaneously combust into flames. Give it another second though, and you would cool off, but ONLY for another second. The heat would then anger and you would be back to steaming in your own personal Hell. So it was that the occupants of the Autobot ship, the Ark hardly moved a servo – not even for energon.
For the Aerialbots, staying dormant was usually a hassle. Being fliers, staying put was not a part of their programming. There was never a single day in which the jets spent the entire day doing nothing. Their life was built around motion. Motion was as important as the energon needed to stay alive. Keep a flyer caged for too long, and you may have one deranged bot on your hands.
This was usual, though. Today, however, was not usual. And as Mr. Darwin said, everything has to evolve sometime. And kept prisoner, chained, by an unseen warden, the Aerialbots had no choice but to stay still in their quarters.
Fireflight did not mind flying in the heat, as long as he was moving. So what if it was 95® in the shade, and possibly more outside? He figured that it only mattered to the humans, whose squishy bodies would possibly boil in the outdoors (and be reduced to a puddle of squishy blobs – as so thoughtfully supplied by Slingshot. Good 'ol Slings. He was always good with getting along with the natives…). But just before he and his gestalt mate, Air Raid were preparing for take – off, Silverbolt exercised his authority as leader and aborted the flying trip. He said that due to the heat, Prime had ordered a non – hostile lockdown of the base. That is, no one was to enter or exit the base. All outside patrols were cancelled, except for those on routine base checks or monitor duty. Besides, on a day like this, not even the Decepticons could attack without them truly being branded as insane. And if they were that insane, the Autobots might as well pack up and surrender. Also on top of that, the Aerialbots now had to deal with an irate, annoyed, and bored Air Raid. And a bored Air Raid, was a scary Air Raid.
Yet, despite the fact that they had a bored, ticking time bomb on their hands, the afternoon flight was canceled. Fireflight sighed with fatigue and listened to the sound of his cooling fans churning rapidly, as he lay on the broken down couch in the flyer's common room. Their purpose was to keep his internal systems from overheating, but today all they did was spread more hot air. Every part of him was uncomfortably hot and sticky. On a good day, other than today, he'd try to lessen his torture by making the rest of his gestaltmates laugh at his lighthearted jokes. But 'Flight did not feel lighthearted or jovial. Not today. He feared that if he dared to open his mouth, he would spontaneously combust. So he off – lined his optics and tried to envision what Antarctica would be like.
"For Primus' sake, 'Raider, stop slaggin' throwin' that ball!" came Slingshot's angry voice, made sharper by the heat.
Fireflight's optics snapped open and he stole a glance at Slingshot. The Harrier was lying on the other end of the couch, as far away from Fireflight as was physically possible. Touching one another in this weather was nothing short of absolute blasphemy. Slingshot glared at the black and white f-15 as Air Raid stared back from his place by the hangar door walls, and fixed his brother with fixed his brother with a kicked-puppy look.
Air Raid, despite the heat and driven mad by boredom, had found some other employment. That was-banging a large metallic ball against the wall in an attempt to simulate a human game known as "off the wall." Slingshot and Fireflight – at first watched Air Raid's game with some interest. It was a welcome diversion to the heat. But after 2 hours of that damned banging, 2 hours of the ball's clang ringing in their ears, it was as bad, or even worse, than the heat. And Air Raid kept going.
"Lighten up Slings!" he chirped, way too cheerily for the weather, "Why don't you get up off your lazy aft and join me and have some fun!"
Slingshot snorted. "My idea of 'fun' don't include melting into a puddle!" he dropped his helm back down onto the couch's arm, "Sit down! You're making me overheat just by watching you."
"I know you're jealous of my sexy aft!" Air Raid smirked and sang out, and commenced in a rather suggestive "booty" dance.
"Slag off and put that thing away!"
"But it's so boring!" Air Raid pouted in a rather unmechly way, shoulders sagging. Fireflight thought he has physically deflated.
Skydive quietly emerged from the flyer's sleeping quarter, leaned against the doorframe and sighed. "Primus above, I don't think Prime mentioned weather like this in the planet description." His gaze shifted from his teammates to the fans mounted on the ceiling, then back at Air Raid, who held his ball in his hands. "And dammit Air Raid if I hear that ball one more fragging I will make you eat it! And trust me, Ratchet is not in any mood to do any fuel tank pumping today!"
Air Raid answered his SIC with nothing less than a visible snarl. "You know what? Frag off!" he turned back to the wall without noticing Skydive's shocked look of surprise, "You want me to stop and kill my fun? Make me."
And he threw the ball with as much force as he could muster against the wall, so much so that that Skydive, who was in the middle of thinking of something rather scathing to say, jumped back in surprise. And then everything happened at once. The ball rebounded with equal force against the wall and it hurtled towards the ceiling; it promptly struck the old lamp above, making it screech and wobble; it bounced off of there and flew with an almost deadly vengeance towards Slingshot, who yelped in an unmechly way and dived off the couch; its course then hit the leg of the couch under which Fireflight had hastily hidden himself; hit another wall, and flew into the revolving fan where it burst into pieces and rained down like cheap confetti over the common room. All optics then locked on Air Raid, as the old lamp wobbled precariously.
"Frag." said Air Raid in a pitiful whine.
With a cheerful chink, the lamp collapsed, and landed with a harsh bone shattering crunch on Air Raid's helm.
Slingshot came out from his hiding place to observe the scene. When he saw Air Raid lying there, his leg still twitching and looking all the while like a gracefully squished insect, he held back a snicker that sounded like a choke.
"Well," he said finally composing himself, "Guess…the slag hit the fan,"
Skydive sighed. He didn't know how he was to explain this to Ratchet. But at least the fan was working again. The ball had knocked back a piece of old grime that had inhibited its performance. So while they would be getting hell from Silverbolt later about Air Raid's accident, and possibly worse unimagined horrors from the CMO, at least they would have a cold common room to limp back to.
Thank Primus for small miracles.
Lol read n review-pweese be gentle.! 3 :3