Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Starstruck, a JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run fanfic

Title: Starstruck
Summary: I'm content to wonder, if only by your side.
Rating: K+
Pairing: One-sided Johnny/Gyro
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: ARAKI'S FOREVER

The stars shone brightly up in the night sky and Johnny Joestar, poking his head out from beneath his blanket, stared up at them. He wondered how many more kilometres they had to travel before they could see a different set of stars. Then he wondered if it was even possible, and briefly contemplated turning to ask Gyro.

But upon tilting his head slightly to look at his friend, he noticed how peacefully he slept.

It was then that Johnny felt a twinge of something, something much stronger than basic camaraderie. Perhaps even stranger for him, he knew what that twinge was almost immediately.

And Johnny supposed it was well-founded. It was the secret of the spin, yes, but there was something else that drew Johnny to him. Something about Gyro, like the way his hair flowed as the wind whipped past them or his posture while he rode Valkyrie.

But then, he had spent much of his time (when they weren't racing as fast as they could or experiencing near-death at the hands of Stand users, that is) wondering why Gyro had bothered to stick with him so willingly. Why did Gyro place so much faith in him, a champion jockey turned cripple? And how could he forget the times when it would have been so much easier to run and abandon Johnny to the Reaper?

He secretly hoped it was because Gyro returned the same bizarre, unfamiliar feelings – but it was far more logical to assume that Gyro was just a man who believed in honour.

Regardless, Johnny smiled as he thought of the man who shifted beside him, clutching his teddy bear. At the very least, he knew he had uncovered Gyro's soft, gentler side and that he could trust him. At that moment, it was far more than enough.

Glancing up at the skies once more before closing his eyes and snuggling his head into his arms, he briefly reminded himself to ask Gyro about the stars in the night sky in the morning.

END

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Sunday, February 28, 2010

Sidenote.

So I just realised that it would maybe be a good idea to add ratings to everything. I'm adding ratings to everything. Except for stuff tagged 'mature', which is pretty much what you can imagine. It just seems kinda redundant to tag something with a rating as well as mature, and since mature is already there... well.

I am going to roll with the FF.Net rating system because it means I don't have to think.

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Bitter Fruit, a Persona 4 fanfic

Title: Bitter Fruit
Summary: You know what the most horrible feeling in the world is, right?
Rating: T
Pairing:
One-sided Kanji/Yosuke, one-sided Yosuki/Souji.
Warnings:
Slash, angst
Disclaimer:
Belongs to Atlus. WHERE IS STRANGE JOURNEY, FATLUS? MAKE IT HAPPEN!

You know what the most horrible feeling in the world is, right?

Maybe for you, it's being unable to tell your mother how much you love and care for her instead of having to show her in some crazy, roundabout way. Thought I admit that I'd like to see how you do it this time.

Maybe it's despite the fact that they are your friends, no matter who you are and no matter what happens, but you still can't bear to know that they saw you like that, in your weakened and exposed form. You were ugly.

And even though you suppose the whole experience made you a better person and allowed you to face up and deal with the truth, maybe you feel horrible that you still have to be tough and brave and put on a show for everyone. But maybe that's just who you really are. Maybe you've been at it for so long that it's been chiseled into your psyche now.

But is it really a reason to hide from your friends, from those who love and support you? Why hurt the ones that want to help? Maybe that's where all the guilt you secretly harbour comes from.

Or maybe the most horrible feeling in the world is the fact that the one you're in love with – yes, him – is oblivious. Perhaps not completely, but you can see him clinging to the past he had. Because when you're sleeping with him and despite the desires and strong emotions at your core you know it's all a meaningless fling.

And this is all cemented even further when he mouths and sometimes moans a name that is not yours. It just makes you want to grab him and shake him and tell him he needs to wake up to reality and that Souji isn't there anymore, that he never really shared those feelings Yosuke nurtured so tenderly.

Or maybe the most horrible feeling in the world is the fact that you can't say those words at all, and it sickens you. Deep down, it's a rude slap that one could easily turn back towards you, and you know it would make perfect sense.

Whatever the most horrible feeling in the world is, I can see a common point between all of them.

You don't have the courage to say what you feel.

And you can't figure out why you don't.

END

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Sunday, February 21, 2010

The following crazy crossover fanfic is for my good pal BobTheDarkOne/Recess Rapist, because it is his birthday. We were chatting and then he mentioned WOW MAYBE THIS PAIRING WILL BE AWESOME BECAUSE THEY BOTH HAVE LIGHTSABERS.

Anyway, I don't know what I've written either. Masked Man is pretty OOC, but I am going to blame the fact that I have been reading Tatsumairi doujinshi.

Title: All In A Day's Work
Summary: Travis' next mission is not what he expected.
Pairing: Travis/Masked Man
Warnings: Strange slash, M3 SPOILERS, cussing.
Disclaimer: NMH belongs to GHM and Mother 3 belongs to Nintendo, amongst other folk.

---

Jeez, peace in its most extreme form is not ideal, thought Travis as he hopped off the bizarre little bus he had taken from Santa Destroy all the way to this strange place. He had forgotten what this place was called - that is, until he looked up and saw a large sign - New Pork City. "Sounds pretty fruity to me." He muttered to no-one. And fruity it was; with its colours and bright lights flashing non-stop, there didn't seem to be a single corner that was touched by darkness. He had never been to a city quite like it before.

Somehow, he felt an odd desire to walk around, get himself on one of the several Ferris wheels. See the whole city from up high. Travis guessed it was his, ahem, rather immature nature shining through. But he couldn't spare the time – there was a reason he was here.

He recalled how Sylvia had called him up late a few nights ago, telling him in her smooth voice about how she was sending him on a little excursion to some weird place thousands of miles away. It wasn't a ranked battle, but she had supposed Travis would be bored when he wasn't killing people, or something like that. He wouldn't need to pay for this match either. “Think of it as the bonus stage, yes?” She had chirped. He accepted without question.

This guy he was supposed to be assassinating, King Porky, looked like he had made quite a name for himself. A full city named after him. Kids and their mothers alike all totally pleased with how fantastic a ruler he was. Not to mention all the soldiers dressed in pig head-shaped helmets.

Wonder if he can get any? Travis snorted to himself, realising shortly after that he sounded like a pig. How fitting. He groaned.

He eventually found his destination, a gaudy, impossibly tall building. The sign on the front showed the words: 'Empire Porky Building'. Trying to make his way inside, he was stopped by a man in a rather formal outfit, a long moustache reaching down to his chin. “Hold it there, son. I'm going to have to ask what your business here is.”

“Me?” Travis pointed innocently at himself. That particular moment didn't really call for balls-to-the-wall action. Too many kids around. Carnage was going to have to wait. “Just a tourist.”

“Go on ahead, then!” The guard smiled kindly. “I mean, there was no way I was expecting you to say that you were an assassin or anything. That would be pretty silly, huh?”

“Definitely. Yep. Well, thank you.” Travis stepped past the waving guard, his beam katana knocking comfortingly against his leg as he strolled towards the elevator. He had a feeling he didn't need to worry about the guard anymore anyway. He seemed pretty incompetent.

Travis entered the lift alone, pressing the button next to a little gold plaque that read 'Throne Room'. He figured that of all the places in this goddamn building, the guy would probably be there. Hopefully with a harem of women.

Licking his dry lips, his hand moved automatically towards the katana on his waist as the lights on the elevator display blinked closer and closer to a capital 'T'. 'T' for 'Travis'. 'T' for 'Touchdown'. It was like he was destined to be there.

So as though he was reaching out, ready to grasp this opportune moment - to spill blood, to impress Sylvia, to do all those things he had been living for thus far - he jumped out from behind the lift door, the beam of his weapon flashing.

He had expected... something. But the empty, lavish room was devoid of all life, betraying his expectations. No bodyguards rushing to restrain or beat him senseless. No fat, grinning King Porky (as he had been led to believe from all of those posters and statues scattered around the city).

And of course, no babes.

Travis sighed loudly, his voice bouncing off the marble walls, taking a seat on one of the steps leading up to the massive throne that sat on a platform at the back of the room. I guess I could've gotten the wrong room, he thought to himself as he pulled the worn, leather glove off his right hand, rubbing his calloused fingers. Now, where else would a King be...

But it was a mistake to be distracted, as Travis realised just in the nick of time that something was swooping down towards him. He evaded whatever it was, rolling over to the side while grabbing his katana, its blade extending as he pressed the small button on the side. No way in hell could an animal be that big...

It wasn't an animal, but a pint-sized man. Or rather, a kid. A kid with strange, mechanical wings was wearing what looked a lot like an aviator's suit, complete with a helmet and a visor that masked his face. “Now I've seen everything,” Travis muttered, scrambling to his feet and holding his katana up, ready to strike. The kid drew a weapon very similar to his own.

“Did you come here to kill Master Porky?” He asked, hovering in midair, his voice surprisingly deeper than what Travis had been expecting. Maybe it was a man after all. A midget.

“Well, yeah. I'm an assassin, so don't get in my way!” Feeling oddly pleased at his rather macho taunt, Travis lunged forward, his leg muscles contorting as he prepared himself to perform a jumping slash. But the Masked Man dodged easily before propelling himself towards the assassin, his sword skimming dangerously close to his face. “Goddammit, that wing shit is cheating!” gasped Travis, struggling to regain his composure.

It was a little hard to do so, what with this crazy guy zooming around the room too quickly for Travis to keep up. However, for him, pussying out was not an option. He knew that he had to complete this mission – if only to impress Sylvia.

But of course, this was all before he saw the Masked Man aiming at something above his head. And gravity worked against him. Somehow, his consciousness faded before he could feel any pain.

*

When Travis awoke, his first reaction was to grope at his waist and at the ground beside him for his katana. After all, that freak might be standing right above him, ready to deal the finishing blow.

What seemed like forever passed, and Travis finally gave up and opened his eyes, ready for a fatal injury. Nothing happened. All that he could sense a change in was his physical condition. His chest ached when he breathed, and a sharp pain shot through him as he tried to sit up.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” The suddenness of the warning and the realisation that the Masked Man was sitting on the stairs not three feet away from him, albeit even in the same room as him, made him yelp in surprise.

The Masked Man sighed, as though he was used to such a negative reaction from people, fumbling at something wrapped in plastic. He soon pulled a serve of hot dog sushi out of the packet, tossing it at Travis. “Here. I can tell you don't live around here, so... it'd be cruel to make you crawl all the way home with those broken ribs of yours.”

Travis stared suspiciously down at the strange item of food in his hand where he had caught it.

“It's not poisoned, ok? If I wanted to kill you I would've done so by now.”

“Then why didn't you?” Travis asked, stuffing the sushi into his mouth. “I thought you were supposed to protect the King or whatever. Aren't you afraid I'll come back and kill him for real?”

The Masked Man's mouth curved into a smirk. “I know you won't.”

“Fucking hell.” Travis sat up properly this time, feeling much better than he did a minute ago. “What kind of an assumption is that? You don't know me or anything.”

“Hmm.” The Masked Man scanned Travis, as though re-evaulating his previous comment. “Well, you're wearing a shirt with ten year-old girls on it.”

Travis gaped at him. “Wh-what the fuck does that have to do with anything? If I had my katana I swear to god I'd -”

But then much to his surprise, The Masked Man walked over to him, just so that he was face to face with the assassin. Even stranger yet, he planted his lips firmly on Travis'.

“Mmmf!” Travis flailed his arms wildly. He was sure there was some sort of law regarding this kind of thing, especially now that since the Masked 'Man' was so close, he was sure that he was younger than he expected. He could only imagine jail time.

The kiss eventually stopped and Travis wiped his mouth thoroughly while the Masked Man stared at him, a smirk still plastered on his face. “If you're wondering why I did that... I guess it's just amusing, guys like you. The depressing sort. Guys like you... I don't think you can get any, can you?”

“Don't pity me, fucking kid! You're too young to think about that kind of shit.”

“Hahaha.” The Masked Man chuckled, and in the way the light caught his visor, Travis could see his gleefulness beaming through the single eye. “You know, I like you. You make me... forget my worries.”

The Masked Man threw Travis his katana and his leather glove. “Oh, and don't forget these.” Smiling once more, he vanished before his eyes.

Travis was left sitting upright in the middle of the throne room, utterly confused. It was only after a few minutes had passed that he finally willed himself to stand up and walk over to the elevator, ready to leave New Pork City, wondering how he was going to explain his defeat to Sylvia.

“... Goddamn.”

END

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Sunday, December 27, 2009

Spill, a Yakuza/Ryu ga Gotoku fanfic

Title: Spill
Summary: What's with you two?
Rating: K+
Pairing: Majima/Kazuma, vague hints of Kazuma/Sayama
Warnings: Slash (of course), mild het.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no sir.

Kazuma honestly had no idea what Kaoru had meant when she said, “Come on, we're going out.”

This time it seemed like she was doing all the leading around, ducking into various restaurants and giving the menus glances so quick that Kazuma could barely keep up.

He could barely keep up with whatever she was thinking anyway. There had to be some purpose behind this, right? He supposed it was what most people would call a 'date'. He couldn't really be sure, being unfamiliar with the concept of 'dates', despite having been called out by some women while working at ADAM.

So it was at a table in Sushi Gin that the whole night took a weird twist, one that made him think. Kaoru was picking at a piece of sashimi, swirling it around in her plate of soy sauce when she decided to ask: “So, what's the relationship between you and Majima?”

“What do you mean?” he asked calmly, trying to choose another portion of raw fish from the dish in the center of the table.

He thought he heard her mumble: “Jeez, you know what I mean”, but he was unsure and just continued staring down at the dish. She lost her patience. “Oh, come on! You know!”

“Uh... no. No, I'm afraid I don't.” Kazuma said honestly. She gave a frustrated groan.

“You and Majima seem... close.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, he is a higher rank than me and all that -”

“That's not what I meant, Mr. Kiryuu.”

Kazuma stopped, puzzled once more. He thought he was really onto something there, beginning to understand her, but he supposed he was wrong. But then, he had no idea what she could possibly be hinting at. 'Close'?

“He... you know, he took care of me and all that.”

“'Took care of you' how?” Kaoru stared at him across the table, her eyes seeming to pierce into his heart. He had to admit that it made him slightly nervous, but he still couldn't say that he knew what she was getting at.

“Like... a... brother? Like they always do in the yakuza?” he answered honestly, but she sighed, exasperated.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Mr. Kiryuu?” she said rather loudly, causing more than a few patrons to turn their heads and whisper amongst themselves. Realising the reactions of those around her, she lowered it to a more respectable volume. “I'm asking you if you and Goro Majima are, or were, lovers.”

Certainly, it was enough of a question to make Kazuma almost spit out his piece of fatty tuna. Kaoru cocked an eye at his strange behaviour as he spluttered, embarrassed. Indeed, it was the first time she had ever seen him act in such a way.

“It's there a problem, Mr. Kiryuu?” she asked. “I'm merely asking you a question. You don't need to be embarrassed or ashamed.”

“What's with that kind of question?” Kazuma was wiping his face bashfully, avoiding her gaze. “It's a pretty personal one, don't you think?”

“It's just, given your... interactions... I'd like to know the full story before I jump to any conclusions.” She stared, meaning to be forceful in her actions, but knew that she couldn't be so cruel as to pry an answer out of him if he didn't want to discuss such personal matters.

She sighed. “Actually... don't worry about it. Please pass me the ginger.”

He did so, finally looking at her as though he was trying to prove that her question didn't affect him that much. But she knew it did.

Nevertheless, he shrugged, resuming his enjoyment of his meal. She looked up from her plate briefly, watching him as he helped himself to some radish. Don't worry, Kaoru, she thought to herself. You'll find out someday. He'll spill.

END

A/N: Or is it? Maybe this will turn into a rambling multichap.

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Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Half-Time, a Metal Gear Solid fic

Title: Half-Time
Summary: Egotistical and irresistible and so... alive.
Rating: M
Pairing: Liquid/Solid
Warnings: Incest, slash, non-explicit porn, PWP.
Disclaimer: Kojima's.
Notes: Oh god, this is so old. I'm posting it now because I just found it and I like it.

Arrogance. It was all there on his handsome, smirking face, plain and obvious. It seemed to suit him and although it was the only facial expression conveyed, Dave didn't seem to mind. After all, it was impossible to know how he was truly feeling anyway. It seemed to calm him, even if it was just a little.

However, Dave knew that with the twisting, harsh body and seductive words lay a human above him, warm-blooded with a heart pumping, just like him. Under these circumstances, he could act no differently from Dave himself. Except that right at this moment, in Dave's eyes, he was irresistible. Egotistical and irresistible and so... alive.

As he moved fingers, hand, mouth downwards, holding him in his grasp and charms, his eyes spoke of something obscure, yet so wonderful. Obscure, but it was happening. And Dave never wanted it to stop.

And he thrust in, forceful, hard, rough. Yet beneath that, there was some sort of gentle kindness, maybe because Liquid knew he was his own flesh and blood, his brother. Perhaps that was why he was so alluring to begin with.

Yes, what was before him was most definitely real.

END

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Monday, November 30, 2009

NaNoWriMo 2009: THE PLATONIC PROM

I managed to actually finish NaNoWriMo yesterday, meaning that I still had a whole day to spare. Goodbye, stress! Maybe.

Anyway, I'm quite unhappy with how this turned out, but I suppose it's to be expected since I just rushed through it. The pacing is shot to all hell. I guess it wasn't what I had imagined, not that I had really planned anything before starting to write it.

If anyone manages to read this without ripping their eyes out... well, kudos!

So, download The Platonic Prom.

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Sunday, November 15, 2009

Anxiety: Chapter 6, a Transformers fic

Anxiety, Chapter 6. In which the Autobots take action.

In his mind, Ultra Magnus quickly counted the number of Decepticons. We're outnumbered, he thought solemnly, sincerely wishing that Rodimus had taken his advice and brought more than just a handful of the Aerialbots and the Protectobots. “We definitely can't take any off their duties on Cybertron,” the leader had reasoned. “And we can't wait for men to arrive from Earth, given the state of the space bridge.” Hmm, Rodimus did have a point...

... and as he thought that, he found he did too, except this one was ramming squarely against his chest. Somewhere, he could hear Rodimus shouting, “Magnus!” as the force of the hit sent him flying backwards. He managed to regain his balance just in time to see Galvatron lunging towards him again, parrying the would-be blow to slam his elbow into the Decepticon leader's back. “I've got this under control, Rodimus!”

Rodimus gave a signal in the affirmative and turned back to the remainder of his troops, quickly issuing his orders. Magnus had been right; they should've brought more soldiers, regardless of the shortages on Cybertron. He growled softly, remembering the circumstances that had led them to this battle...

“Rodimus Prime, sir! Emergency transmission!” Blaster saluted as Rodimus rushed towards the console, allowing the transmission to feed through. A robot's urgent face, humanoid though far different in appearance than a Transformer's, flashed up on the screen. Rodimus recognised the robot as an Enkian and vaguely recalled having met a few of them during his intergalactic travels.

“This is Dr. Molbane from the Planet Enk. Please, we need your assistance in a very important matter. Am I speaking to Rodimus Prime, leader of the Autobots?”

“Prime here.” Rodimus nodded. “What's the situation, Dr. Molbane?”

“I'll try and relay the events as quickly as possible. A few cycles ago, a civilian brought in a test subject, who attempted to resist capture. We incapacitated him, but his comrades stormed the building where he was being held and rescued him. I-I think they've left Enk, but before that, they... they razed whatever they could. They've caused so much destruction and caused so many deaths, I... I...” The Enkian's voice faltered. “Please, we need you to dispose of these monsters before they return to satisfy their sadistic inhibitions!”

Rodimus and Blaster exchanged an uncomfortable look. As sad as the situation was, they weren't sure that it was a good idea to spare troops to go hunting for a handful of assailants. That, and the doctor seemed like a panicky sort. Rodimus sighed softly.

“What can you tell me about these, uh... monsters?”

“I remember I saw them transform.”

This made both Blaster and Rodimus sit up immediately, alert and listening. “Decepticons?”

“I... yes, I think that's what they were called. They rescued a purple one, one with two horns on his head. They were led by a blue one with wings.”

“Dammit, that's them all right.” Rodimus muttered. “Look, we'll do something about them, Dr. Molbane. Just sit tight, I'll contact you when I'm close to your planet.”

“Thank you, Rodimus Prime. You really are as gracious and merciful as they say.” The doctor, somewhat relieved, disappeared from the screen.

I'm really not, thought Rodimus, feeling a pang of guilt at the fact that he would have refused their request if the attackers had not been Decepticons.

That reminded him – he had to contact the Enkians. Quickly flipping through his memory bank for the transmission frequency Blaster had given him, he sent a brief message: AT THE OUTSKIRTS OF ENK. CURRENTLY ENGAGING DECEPTICON TROOPS. Which led him to wonder why he hadn't been targeted yet.

He knew he had spoken too soon as a beam whizzed past his head, knowing that several more would inevitably follow. He sidestepped them quickly and charged towards the Sweep that had fired the shots, raising his own blaster and pulling the trigger.

*

Amidst the mayhem, Cyclonus made sure that he stayed close to the Decepticon leader, whose fury at being ambushed had driven him to single-handedly take on First Aid, Fireflight and Slingshot. At this point, Ultra Magnus had turned his attention towards Cyclonus, taking calculated swipes at him. “What is your problem anyway, Cyclonus? Attacking innocent townsfolk and destroying half their city?”

“I don't need to explain my actions to you, Autobot scum. But how would you feel if you were separated from Prime?” Cyclonus smirked, managing to kick Magnus in the shin and catching him in a fierce headlock. “It was the same thing. Oh, the agony they put me through... although it's nothing compared to what you'll be feeling when I'm done with you.” Magnus gasped and struggled as a hand inched towards his optics. Next he heard was a loud groan of pain as Cyclonus' grip loosened enough to allow him to wriggle free.

Rodimus was beside him, blaster ready, pulling him away from the Decepticon. “You ok?”

“I'm fine now.” He managed a smile of thanks, scanning the battleground to gauge the progress of the other Autobots. A wave of anxiety settled over him as he realised that unless they were able to tip the battle in their favour, the battle would continue this way for a long time more. Time was something they didn't have. Rodimus must have realised this as well, for they both looked at each other, nervous.

At that moment, Rodimus' transmitter began beeping and he activated it. “Rodimus here.”

“Rodimus Prime, Dr. Molbane here. You're having trouble, I take it? We... we have something you may be able to use to turn the tables. Us scientists have been dabbling in weaponry for the last few months. It's merely a prototype, but... we can offer you a bomb.

A bomb? Rodimus glanced at Magnus, who seemed to weigh up the consequences of using such a weapon in his processor before nodding. After all, they couldn't expect to win wars without taking a few risks.

“We'll take it, doctor.”

“If that is the case, we will transfer the bomb into your possession once you reach our headquarters. I will give you the coordinates.” Taking note of them, Rodimus shouted, “Autobots, follow me!”, pathing his way towards the large building in the middle of the planet, the other Autobots hurrying after him as quickly as they could.

Galvatron let out a loud growl, optics sweeping across his troops. “What are you fools waiting for?! AFTER THEM!” Several of them looked uneasy but obeyed the command nevertheless, leaving Cyclonus and his leader floating a few meters away from them.

“Lord Galvatron, is this a wise decision? I overheard whoever was communicating with Prime mention something about... a bomb?”

Galvatron merely laughed harshly, beginning to ready his thrusters to jet off towards Enk. “Even if they did have that weapon, do you really think they would be foolish enough to use it? They'd take out the population of that city and perhaps even themselves!”

I'm sure they're not THAT foolish, Galvatron, Cyclonus thought rather glumly. Not to mention we know nothing about this bomb. It might be some new technology we've never seen before... “Forgive me, Lord Galvatron, but this might be nothing we've ever encounte-”

But Galvatron, clearly in a good mood, merely pushed him aside while flying past him and laughing. “Cyclonus, Cyclonus. You worry too much. If you're right about this whole bomb thing... you can say 'I Told You So'.”

This left him not knowing what to expect.

*

The Autobots had landed safely in the Enkian capital's town square and began hurrying into the scientists's headquarters. On their way in, they ran past crowds that had gathered to see them land, noticing that their expressions were fearful, a few full of anger and rage. It was small moments like those that made Rodimus hate the Decepticons even more, seeing how they had drawn a peaceful, trusting planet unnecessarily into their feud.

A guard, seeing this unusual party, nodded curtly and marched towards a large hall in the center of the building, the doors sliding open to reveal a round table, several Enkians gathered around. One of them looked up upon hearing the soft clinking of metal hitting gray stone, his mood visibly brightening slightly. Rodimus recognised him as the Enkian he had been keeping in contact with.

“Rodimus Prime and his Autobot warriors. Thank you for coming to our aid.” Molbane bowed his head and the others followed suit.

“Just doing my job.” Rodimus smiled, only to be nudged by Ultra Magnus. He cleared his throat, “So as not to prolong your suffering, please give us the weapon we agreed to use to destroy the Decepticons with.”

“Doesn't mince words, does he?” One muttered, as a small chest was carried out. Keying in a long and complex security code, the lid swung open and Molbane lifted out a simple-looking device with a keypad on its top. It was no larger than a standard energon cube.

“Let me quickly explain. See this keypad? You need to enter a code to activate it. The code is 8812. After that, press 1, and then the number of seconds before the bomb explodes. I should also mention that once you set the bomb, it can't be deactivated. Are these instructions clear?”

Not very articulate for a scientist, is he? Rodimus smirked a little and Magnus elbowed him again.

“Crystal.” He was handed the bomb, eyeing it slowly as he tucked it under his arm. “The only problem that remains is where we're going to detonate this thing without harming your people or causing further destruction...”

“Lead them northwest from here, 300 klicks.” Another Enkian spoke up, pointing in the direction they needed to head in. “There's a canyon there. If the bomb fails to destroy them, the rockslide will.”

“Gotcha. We'll take 'em out, don't worry. This'll be beneficial to both our species.” Rodimus bowed respectfully to the Enkian council and were led out. As soon as they were out of the building, they took to the air, dodging one or two Decepticon shots.

“Gee, what was with that sarcasm?” Ultra Magnus asked, somewhat displeased with his friend's comments earlier.

“Hey, we're about to beat the Decepticons, right? I guess some of my happiness leaked out.”

Magnus sighed. “Don't get too confident, Rodimus.”

“Me? Never.” He laughed, landing and signalling his troops to do so as well. Upon noticing that the Decepticons were about to land and attack them from the ground, he said, ““Alright guys, you know what the plan is,” and quickly keyed in the code Molbane had given him and set the time: thirty seconds.

And what a frantic thirty seconds they were too.

Almost as soon as the Decepticons hit the ground running, most of the Autobots had taken off, with Rodimus remaining to hurriedly bury the bomb under a small pile of rocks. His men made sure no-one had noticed this by keeping them busy, firing wildly at them from almost every direction. Soon, Rodimus followed them and they flew as fast as they could, not wanting to get caught up in the explosion.

Only then did Cyclonus realise the danger they were in. Scourge noticed his sudden distress. “What's wrong, Cyclonus?”

“That damned coward! He's planted a bomb somewhere!” He yelled, causing every Decepticon to scurry and begin scanning the rocky terrain for something made of metal.

“There is no time, you fools!” Galvatron was in the air now, ready to retreat. “We must not-”

And suddenly, there was a flash.

*

Back on Enk, several Enkians sat perched around asystem that had been cobbled together purely for the purpose of assisting the Autobots in their battle. The bomb had detonated successfully, taking the rocky walls surrounding the small, barren battlefield with it.

“No life readings detected, sir.” said one Enkian, throwing down his headset in relief.

“Well done everyone,” said the lead scientist, smiling victoriously. “Well done.”

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Sunday, November 8, 2009

NaNoWriMo

It's November. That means it's NaNoWriMo!

So here we go.

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Sunday, October 25, 2009

Anxiety: Chapter 5, a Transformers fic

Anxiety, Chapter 5. In which they are reunited.

The busy city at the center of the Enkian capital was almost completely ruined.

While not directly causing death to any civilians, eyewitnesses stated that the alien robots that had mysteriously arrived on their planet had destroyed several buildings and monuments, the debris injuring and killing hundreds. They had last been seen, much to everyone's relief, leaving the planet – no doubt to return to wherever they had come from. But grief and sorrow was rife amongst the Enkians, as most had never seen such destruction in their long lives.

No-one knew why those robots had landed on the planet, or how they had been able to do so in the first place. All the Enkians knew that the Peacemaker, the name given to the large shield that hovered over their planet, honing in on and incapacitating anyone and anything that drifted too close, would have prevented anyone from getting in. Some were beginning to question whether the scientists in charge of the machine were capable of operating it correctly and whether they did in fact need a military service. Others were too concerned with their own wellbeing to ponder such cynical thoughts.

The scientists, however, had realised. The horrible truth was that they were incompetent. Having been so excited about having captured a live, rare specimen, no one had taken any notice of the fact that he had slammed himself roughly into the Peacemaker's control panel, disabling it. And as for why they were here, it was obvious. They were his loyal comrades, the one the Decepticon had talked about when he was cornered.

They scurried about what had once been their haven, full of knowledge and data about the strange things they had encountered. But it was gone now, most of it charred and inaccessible. But most importantly to them at that moment, the console that controlled the Peacemaker has been completely destroyed. It was marked now by a hole that had been melted around the edges, no doubt the result of a high-energy beam being at it. The scientists stared at it as despair began to set in. But of course, there was one solution left...

Somewhere else in the capital, Foll sat at his workbench, head buried in his hands.

---

Without a doubt, the successful locating and rescuing of Cyclonus had given the Decepticon a considerable boost in morale. Everyone was much more jovial and lively than they had previously been, but Cyclonus remained quiet, having barely said two words since they had left Enk. Scourge noticed this and fell back to fly beside him, meaning to have a quick word. “Are you alright?”

Cyclonus smirked slightly. “It's not like you to ask that kind of thing.”

“I'm just concerned. Concerned for a friend.” Scourge shrugged, as though his words were the most casual in the galaxy. Yet deep inside he had meant this sincerely, and was relieved when something flashed in Cyclonus's optics. Somehow, he knew that this meant he was truly grateful.

“Lord Galvatron!” Someone exclaimed, and the group stopped, assembling themselves around Cyclonus as though they were presenting him. Cyclonus saluted as Galvatron stood before him, accompanied by the Constructicons. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words to use to greet the leader with, but was cut short by a crude bark.

“You FOOL! You thought you could take your time!?”

Cyclonus winced, expecting a painful blow. Yet it never came, and he could suddenly see something about Galvatron's manner that he would never expect anyone else to. It wasn't like Galvatron to pass up the opportunity to inflict a violent blow upon his troops, let alone meet up with one who had gone missing for a few cycles upon his rescue. He himself could scarcely believe it, but there was only one logical conclusion he was able to draw from this: Galvatron had missed him. And there was something about this that made Cyclonus indescribably happy, that made the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile. He had meant for it to be a very quick smile, one that no-one else would be able to catch, but Galvatron certainly did, for he shouted: “What are you grinning about?!”

“N-nothing of course, Lord Galvatron!”

“Laughing at the inconvenience you put me through?!”

Galvatron looks as though he's about to bust a gear, thought Scourge, but was relieved at the reunion between the two. He knew it was something that everyone would welcome, something that would mean an improvement in Galvatron's mood, no matter how slight. But then at that moment, he saw something approaching them at a high speed. Adjusting his optics, he realised what it was.

“Autobot troops!” He shouted, immediately scrambling to draw his blaster.

“What?! How did they know of our position?” Galvatron fired a few shots into the advancing convoy, before giving a yell and charging into them headfirst. The remainder of the Decepticons glanced at each other for a moment, the same thought passing through all of them: He's slaggin' crazy. They turned to Cyclonus, seeking guidance from someone with sanity hardcoded into him.

Perhaps he was still somewhat shaken from his experience with the Enkians, but there was something odd about the way his comrades looked at him, as though his absence had made them appreciate him so much more. So when he raised his arm, pointing them towards their enemies, he felt proud, mighty, and most of all, like he could do anything. “Decepticons, charge!”

And as they did so, rushing forward, weapons and fists at ready, Scourge eyed his fellow Lieutenant as he jetted by, as though trying to say Yeah... I'm really glad you're back.

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