Tag: the-scrappy-stinger

☻☻☻

Your shrill rantings can rival Starscream’s, and he has broken glass on the bridge before.

I need a table of contents to recall all of your current lovers. Chances are that if you’re talking to them, you’re interfacing like petrorabbits.

It’s no wonder you like it on Earth, it’s the one place where you’re at all tall. Everywhere else, you need a ladder to look people in the optic. I should know; I am often said ladder.

Thunderstorm.

THUNDERSTORM – a difficult or miserable time in their life

Ah, which to pick…

How about when he had just been dumped in the arena? He’d thought through escaping the mines and smuggling out Rumble and Frenzy in the process, but getting to the arena and fighting was really as far as his plan went at first. Sure he was big and sturdy, he obviously survived, but it was a learning curve.

You don’t step off the street and into a ring and know how to take or throw a punch. In the mines he’d known what he was doing and knew what to expect, even if the conditions were horrid. He scraped by, won by the skin of his teeth and spent his nights passed out on the floor of his cell-like accommodations. 

And that was when he wasn’t defending the minicons! They found odd jobs soon enough, but right at the beginning they had nowhere to go and were living off of whatever Megs could afford to give them from his winnings. He vehemently refused to let them fight (despite Frenzy’s loud protests) because though he wouldn’t admit it, they were the only familiar people in this new world and the thought of losing them and being alone there was even worse than facing death every day. He fought every day for two weeks straight before they started thinking he might be something special, two weeks of death matches before the bosses gave him some rest so they could see what he could do when he was at his best.

He doesn’t remember everything about that short period of his life and honestly it’s for the best.

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.” 

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”

( Megatron’s got a friend. Bee’s brought a few snacks and some pictures he took of the fish tank for him. They’re eating healthy. The rest of the pics are of Rex, who waggles his aft too hard to not be a blurry mess in the photos. )

Megatron slides through the pictures, shaking his helm fondly when he gets to the blur he assumes is Rex. “He always seems to move so much more when you’re around. Has he been allowed out of my quarters? Just because I’m confined doesn’t mean he should be. The ship is safe enough for him.”