Combaticons -- 7 Virtues -- "Humility"
Oct. 16th, 2006 05:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dunmurderinAuthor: Dunmurderin
Fandom: Transformers (G1)
Characters/Pairing: Combaticons
Prompt: Humility
Word Count: approximately 698 words
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers; wouldn’t particularly want to
Author's Notes: Story takes place six million years in the past in my personal Transformers story universe. Scene is loosely based off a scene that was written into “Starscream’s Brigade” but which was never filmed. Click on the link (which leads to section 3 of the script) and scroll down to page #39 of the script to see the scene in question.
Humility
Room 217. Onslaught had heard rumors about it ever since he’d joined the Empire. All Decepticons had. It was, in the barracks vernacular, the Ultimate Crash-landing. The place you went if you did something irredeemably bad, something beyond the pale even by the loose standards of the Empire. What, precisely, would lead you to Room 217, nobody knew -- though everybody had their own theories. As they did about what happened to you once you were inside.
And here he was. Here they all were. Swindle, Vortex, Blast Off, Brawl -- all of them lined up in a row before Shockwave, waiting for what came next.
They weren’t shackled. There was no point; their weapons systems had been stripped long before they came here. Even if they had been armed, they were no match for Shockwave’s cannon. Or to fight their way out of the depths of Decepticon Headquarters in the unlikely-verging-on-impossible event they could defeat Shockwave.
Still, Onslaught’s mind worked feverishly, trying to concoct one last plan to rescue them all. They were his responsibility; he owed it to them.
“Do you understand why you are here?” Shockwave asked, in his flat, neutral voice.
“Yes,” Onslaught said. “We have been found guilty of treason, but if I could be allowed to explain.”
“No explanation is needed,” Shockwave said. “You were caught at the scene of your crime; attempting to assassinate your field commander -- myself -- on the eve of the battle at Baklava Pax. Your guilt is clear. Do you understand why you have been brought here?”
“Yes,” Onslaught said, struggling with his temper. “But the reason we did this, you must understand the reason!”
“You are guilty of conspiring with the enemy, in the personage of Base Commander Blindspot. Information of your attempted betrayal was provided by this individual prior to his execution. Your guilt is clear; your motivations are immaterial. Do you understand why you are here?”
Onslaught’s fists clenched, the only outward sign of his fury. “I acted in the best interests of my team,” he said. “According to my calculations, this war -- as it is being fought now -- will be one of attrition. It’s only a matter of time -- twelve thousand vorn, twenty thousand, it doesn’t matter! Eventually this world will be nothing more than a dried out husk! It was -- is! -- my duty to my teammates to spare them that fate!”
Shockwave stood, silent for the moment. Onslaught felt his calm finally snap.
“It would have worked!” he roared, his voice echoing in the small room. “If that idiot Autobot had only let us kill you instead of trying to be ‘honorable’, we’d have been off-planet and away from this idiotic, pointless war before the Empire could have recovered from the chaos! We’d have had a ship and been able to go where we wanted! We could have picked and chosen the wars we fought in, instead of being stuck on this miserable rustball of a planet! And you idiots could have happily continued killing each other off until the last of you expired from lack of energy! My team would have been safe!”
Onslaught cut himself off, glaring at Shockwave with white-hot optics, waiting for the other mech’s response.
“They were not your team,” Shockwave said, tone mild but firm. “You led them because it pleased the Empire to allow you to do so. You are here because the Empire no longer has a use for you. In its mercy, it has decided you will be retained, rather than recycled, in hopes you will one day be useful again. Sentence will be completed now.
Shockwave stepped forward, grasping hand reaching out to open Onslaught’s chest plate. Onslaught glared defiance into Shockwave’s lone optic. He didn’t turn, knowing his bravado was nothing more than a way to avoid seeing his brothers’ lifeless husks once more.
There was a snap and a click and Shockwave was suddenly alone with five empty shells. He placed Onslaught’s personality component in the storage drawer with the rest of the Combaticons, then left -- pausing only long enough to vaporize the now-empty shells.
Fandom: Transformers (G1)
Characters/Pairing: Combaticons
Prompt: Humility
Word Count: approximately 698 words
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers; wouldn’t particularly want to
Author's Notes: Story takes place six million years in the past in my personal Transformers story universe. Scene is loosely based off a scene that was written into “Starscream’s Brigade” but which was never filmed. Click on the link (which leads to section 3 of the script) and scroll down to page #39 of the script to see the scene in question.
Room 217. Onslaught had heard rumors about it ever since he’d joined the Empire. All Decepticons had. It was, in the barracks vernacular, the Ultimate Crash-landing. The place you went if you did something irredeemably bad, something beyond the pale even by the loose standards of the Empire. What, precisely, would lead you to Room 217, nobody knew -- though everybody had their own theories. As they did about what happened to you once you were inside.
And here he was. Here they all were. Swindle, Vortex, Blast Off, Brawl -- all of them lined up in a row before Shockwave, waiting for what came next.
They weren’t shackled. There was no point; their weapons systems had been stripped long before they came here. Even if they had been armed, they were no match for Shockwave’s cannon. Or to fight their way out of the depths of Decepticon Headquarters in the unlikely-verging-on-impossible event they could defeat Shockwave.
Still, Onslaught’s mind worked feverishly, trying to concoct one last plan to rescue them all. They were his responsibility; he owed it to them.
“Do you understand why you are here?” Shockwave asked, in his flat, neutral voice.
“Yes,” Onslaught said. “We have been found guilty of treason, but if I could be allowed to explain.”
“No explanation is needed,” Shockwave said. “You were caught at the scene of your crime; attempting to assassinate your field commander -- myself -- on the eve of the battle at Baklava Pax. Your guilt is clear. Do you understand why you have been brought here?”
“Yes,” Onslaught said, struggling with his temper. “But the reason we did this, you must understand the reason!”
“You are guilty of conspiring with the enemy, in the personage of Base Commander Blindspot. Information of your attempted betrayal was provided by this individual prior to his execution. Your guilt is clear; your motivations are immaterial. Do you understand why you are here?”
Onslaught’s fists clenched, the only outward sign of his fury. “I acted in the best interests of my team,” he said. “According to my calculations, this war -- as it is being fought now -- will be one of attrition. It’s only a matter of time -- twelve thousand vorn, twenty thousand, it doesn’t matter! Eventually this world will be nothing more than a dried out husk! It was -- is! -- my duty to my teammates to spare them that fate!”
Shockwave stood, silent for the moment. Onslaught felt his calm finally snap.
“It would have worked!” he roared, his voice echoing in the small room. “If that idiot Autobot had only let us kill you instead of trying to be ‘honorable’, we’d have been off-planet and away from this idiotic, pointless war before the Empire could have recovered from the chaos! We’d have had a ship and been able to go where we wanted! We could have picked and chosen the wars we fought in, instead of being stuck on this miserable rustball of a planet! And you idiots could have happily continued killing each other off until the last of you expired from lack of energy! My team would have been safe!”
Onslaught cut himself off, glaring at Shockwave with white-hot optics, waiting for the other mech’s response.
“They were not your team,” Shockwave said, tone mild but firm. “You led them because it pleased the Empire to allow you to do so. You are here because the Empire no longer has a use for you. In its mercy, it has decided you will be retained, rather than recycled, in hopes you will one day be useful again. Sentence will be completed now.
Shockwave stepped forward, grasping hand reaching out to open Onslaught’s chest plate. Onslaught glared defiance into Shockwave’s lone optic. He didn’t turn, knowing his bravado was nothing more than a way to avoid seeing his brothers’ lifeless husks once more.
There was a snap and a click and Shockwave was suddenly alone with five empty shells. He placed Onslaught’s personality component in the storage drawer with the rest of the Combaticons, then left -- pausing only long enough to vaporize the now-empty shells.
