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dunmurderinTitle: Untitled (Written for "The Justice/The Adult" prompt)
Originally Posted: December 22, 2006
Author: Dunmurderin
Character/Pairing: Tailgate
Word count: approximately 1017 words
Rating/Warning: PG
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I do not own Transformers; story takes place on Cybertron roughly 1 million years ago, at some point after “Infancy,” “Childhood,” "Adolescence," and "The Soldier" -- time is approximately 500 years after Tailgate's creation (6 vorn = 498 years)
Group/Theme: 7 Ages of Man
"I have your friend," said the renegade. "Tell me, little one, is he alive or dead?"
Tailgate hesitated, tightening his grip on his rifle as he tried to judge the renegade's position within the rubble. For a moment, he considered risking sending a ping to Pipes's central processor and locating both the renegade and his friend that way, but doing so would likely give the renegade an idea of where he was too. And he still wasn't sure if the renegade had friends of his own nearby.
"Come on, little one, play the game -- is he alive or is he dead?"
Tailgate still didn't answer. There was no point: whatever answer he gave, Pipes's life would be forfeit. If he said Pipes was alive, the renegade would kill him out of spite. If he said Pipes was dead, the renegade would still kill him for the sheer sadistic glee of proving Tailgate 'right.'
No, what he needed to do now was focus on getting himself out of this mess. Then, he could either rescue Pipes himself or spare his friend's remains from desecration at the renegade's hands.
"Little one, you aren't answering the question." The renegade all but sang the words. "That's not the Autobot way! Autobots are supposed to play fair and be honest and aboveboard at all times. Isn't that what Prime told us?"
"I wouldn't know," Tailgate called back, moving as he spoke to try and cloud his location. "I'm only six vorn old. I don't remember Prime."
"Ahh, but you're with Elita-1's faction," the renegade said. "And she's nothing but Prime's obedient little mouthpiece. Look at what she's done to us! Shockwave holds our world, leaving us to fight over scraps and what does she do? She hides! She prolongs this war and leaves us to starve!"
Tailgate didn't answer. In part because he was still moving, trying to use the renegade's ravings to help pinpoint his location. But also because there was no real answer he could give. Technically, the renegade was right. Elita-1 and her team were in hiding, since coming out in the open would bring Shockwave's drone army down on them like a pneumatic hammer on a rivet.
Unfortunately, they were also hidden because of fears of attack from rival Autobot factions. Since the Ark's departure, the war had gone badly for the Autobots. Shockwave and his forces had the advantage of holding most of the planet's energon production plants as well as all the space ports. Food and spare parts were plentiful for the Decepticons, even in these days of near-famine. For the Autobots, however, things were much different.
Tailgate had listened once as Kup had tried to explain the fragmentation of the Autobot cause -- though truth be told, most of the discussion had gone over his head. It all seemed to come down to the fact that while the Decepticons followed Shockwave out of fear and grudging respect for his might, the Autobots were free to disagree and debate with their leaders. And, in the end, this had led to some groups striking off and setting themselves up against not only the Decepticons but also their fellow Autobots, believing them be enemies to the cause.
"You could always join Shockwave," Tailgate said, hoping to set the renegade off on another tirade.
It worked better than Tailgate had expected. "I am not a Decepticon!" The renegade roared. "I am an Autobot! I don't hide or skulk, shrinking from my enemies!"
Tailgate paused, wondering how lying in wait to ambush himself and Pipes wasn't considered hiding and/or skulking.
"Answer my question!" There was a crashing sound as if the renegade were stomping his foot in frustration. "Is he alive or dead?"
"I don't know," Tailgate answered, moving slowly toward the sound of the renegade's voice. "He could be alive or he could be dead. All I do know is that you've got him and I don't like that."
The renegade snickered. "Oh no, you don't like it!" he said. "And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it?"
"That depends," Tailgate said. "If you give Pipes back, I'll let you go."
"You'll let me go?" The renegade laughed. "You will let me go? don't be absurd!"
"Give me my friend back and I'll let you go," Tailgate said. "We can even give you some of our spare rations. It won't be much, but it'll last you a bit."
"Fool, I can kill you both and take what I need!"
"Then in that case, I'm going to have to kill you," Tailgate said, moving forward under the cover of the renegade's mocking laughter and peering around a pile of rubble at his adversary.
"Your ethics won't allow that," sneered the renegade. He was a surprisingly large mech, nearly Magnus's height, but haphazardly maintained. For a moment, Tailgate felt sorry for him. The renegade was alone, hungry and desperate -- a condition Tailgate knew he and his teammates weren't far from themselves. Shockwave had a stranglehold on Cybertron's supply lines; scavenging energon was hard work even with a team.
However, whatever sympathy he had was balanced by the site of Pipes laying in a crumpled heap on the ground, a siphon dripping energon into a nearby cube. Perhaps another mech might have had a problem choosing between duty to a friend and mercy to an enemy but not Tailgate.
"You'd be surprised what I'm allowed to do," Tailgate said, lobbing a pair of magnetic mines in an over handed toss. The mines struck home, latching onto the renegade's chest and began their countdown, beeping in almost cheerful tones.
"Murderer!" The renegade scrabbled at the mines trying to dislodge them as he staggered backwards, weakened finger joints cracking and coming loose in his struggle to save himself. "Murderer!"
"They'll forgive me," Tailgate said, ducking back from the explosion. He waited for the rain of debris to stop before going to Pipes's side, relieved to find that he'd arrived in time -- Pipes was weakened, but alive.
"Knew I guessed right," Tailgate said before radioing Springer for an evac.
Originally Posted: December 22, 2006
Author: Dunmurderin
Character/Pairing: Tailgate
Word count: approximately 1017 words
Rating/Warning: PG
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I do not own Transformers; story takes place on Cybertron roughly 1 million years ago, at some point after “Infancy,” “Childhood,” "Adolescence," and "The Soldier" -- time is approximately 500 years after Tailgate's creation (6 vorn = 498 years)
Group/Theme: 7 Ages of Man
"I have your friend," said the renegade. "Tell me, little one, is he alive or dead?"
Tailgate hesitated, tightening his grip on his rifle as he tried to judge the renegade's position within the rubble. For a moment, he considered risking sending a ping to Pipes's central processor and locating both the renegade and his friend that way, but doing so would likely give the renegade an idea of where he was too. And he still wasn't sure if the renegade had friends of his own nearby.
"Come on, little one, play the game -- is he alive or is he dead?"
Tailgate still didn't answer. There was no point: whatever answer he gave, Pipes's life would be forfeit. If he said Pipes was alive, the renegade would kill him out of spite. If he said Pipes was dead, the renegade would still kill him for the sheer sadistic glee of proving Tailgate 'right.'
No, what he needed to do now was focus on getting himself out of this mess. Then, he could either rescue Pipes himself or spare his friend's remains from desecration at the renegade's hands.
"Little one, you aren't answering the question." The renegade all but sang the words. "That's not the Autobot way! Autobots are supposed to play fair and be honest and aboveboard at all times. Isn't that what Prime told us?"
"I wouldn't know," Tailgate called back, moving as he spoke to try and cloud his location. "I'm only six vorn old. I don't remember Prime."
"Ahh, but you're with Elita-1's faction," the renegade said. "And she's nothing but Prime's obedient little mouthpiece. Look at what she's done to us! Shockwave holds our world, leaving us to fight over scraps and what does she do? She hides! She prolongs this war and leaves us to starve!"
Tailgate didn't answer. In part because he was still moving, trying to use the renegade's ravings to help pinpoint his location. But also because there was no real answer he could give. Technically, the renegade was right. Elita-1 and her team were in hiding, since coming out in the open would bring Shockwave's drone army down on them like a pneumatic hammer on a rivet.
Unfortunately, they were also hidden because of fears of attack from rival Autobot factions. Since the Ark's departure, the war had gone badly for the Autobots. Shockwave and his forces had the advantage of holding most of the planet's energon production plants as well as all the space ports. Food and spare parts were plentiful for the Decepticons, even in these days of near-famine. For the Autobots, however, things were much different.
Tailgate had listened once as Kup had tried to explain the fragmentation of the Autobot cause -- though truth be told, most of the discussion had gone over his head. It all seemed to come down to the fact that while the Decepticons followed Shockwave out of fear and grudging respect for his might, the Autobots were free to disagree and debate with their leaders. And, in the end, this had led to some groups striking off and setting themselves up against not only the Decepticons but also their fellow Autobots, believing them be enemies to the cause.
"You could always join Shockwave," Tailgate said, hoping to set the renegade off on another tirade.
It worked better than Tailgate had expected. "I am not a Decepticon!" The renegade roared. "I am an Autobot! I don't hide or skulk, shrinking from my enemies!"
Tailgate paused, wondering how lying in wait to ambush himself and Pipes wasn't considered hiding and/or skulking.
"Answer my question!" There was a crashing sound as if the renegade were stomping his foot in frustration. "Is he alive or dead?"
"I don't know," Tailgate answered, moving slowly toward the sound of the renegade's voice. "He could be alive or he could be dead. All I do know is that you've got him and I don't like that."
The renegade snickered. "Oh no, you don't like it!" he said. "And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it?"
"That depends," Tailgate said. "If you give Pipes back, I'll let you go."
"You'll let me go?" The renegade laughed. "You will let me go? don't be absurd!"
"Give me my friend back and I'll let you go," Tailgate said. "We can even give you some of our spare rations. It won't be much, but it'll last you a bit."
"Fool, I can kill you both and take what I need!"
"Then in that case, I'm going to have to kill you," Tailgate said, moving forward under the cover of the renegade's mocking laughter and peering around a pile of rubble at his adversary.
"Your ethics won't allow that," sneered the renegade. He was a surprisingly large mech, nearly Magnus's height, but haphazardly maintained. For a moment, Tailgate felt sorry for him. The renegade was alone, hungry and desperate -- a condition Tailgate knew he and his teammates weren't far from themselves. Shockwave had a stranglehold on Cybertron's supply lines; scavenging energon was hard work even with a team.
However, whatever sympathy he had was balanced by the site of Pipes laying in a crumpled heap on the ground, a siphon dripping energon into a nearby cube. Perhaps another mech might have had a problem choosing between duty to a friend and mercy to an enemy but not Tailgate.
"You'd be surprised what I'm allowed to do," Tailgate said, lobbing a pair of magnetic mines in an over handed toss. The mines struck home, latching onto the renegade's chest and began their countdown, beeping in almost cheerful tones.
"Murderer!" The renegade scrabbled at the mines trying to dislodge them as he staggered backwards, weakened finger joints cracking and coming loose in his struggle to save himself. "Murderer!"
"They'll forgive me," Tailgate said, ducking back from the explosion. He waited for the rain of debris to stop before going to Pipes's side, relieved to find that he'd arrived in time -- Pipes was weakened, but alive.
"Knew I guessed right," Tailgate said before radioing Springer for an evac.
