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31_days2006-02-13 10:51 pm
beckyh2112.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-02-13 10:51 pm
[Feb. 13][Transformers] A Killing Dance
Title: A Killing Dance
Day/Theme: Feb. 13 'a killing dance'
Series: G1 Transformers
Characters: Panzer, Reaver, Flexagon, Steelskull
Rating: PG
Notes: Don't worry about who these people are. Set sometime during the Great War.
---
"Whadda you know? You're just some pretty-boy berthwarmer," the overenergized tank snarled.
That phrase caught Panzer's attention as he picked through his drinks, squeezing them softly. Only person 'round here that looked like that would be the... oh, slag, not the sniper. That'd better not be the sniper Steelskull was picking a fight with. He risked a glance over towards the other tank.
Forgefire and ashes, it *was* the sniper.
The lithe mech picked up his fans off the table and flipped them open. Colored wires and chains ran between the ribs, carefully seperated from each other. The fan wouldn't be much use if the monofilament wires sliced the sword-catcher chains all to pieces. The dull outside edge of the ribs was likely better for parrying weapons, if Panzer was any judge.
The tank elbowed his drinking buddy, who was staring quite openly. "Quit it."
"How in the Pit do you kill someone with that?"
"Don't let him hear you, he might demonstrate."
"Looks like he's going to demonstrate, anyway." Reaver took a swig of energon. "Steelskull's so dead he's turning grey."
Panzer grunted and tossed a digestible pouch of energon into his mouth. The vertical mouth style might be intimidatingly weird, but it was damn near useless for social drinking.
The third tank in the bar, who neither Panzer nor Reaver would admit to knowing now, slammed a fist down on the table. "What the Pit you gonna do with that?"
The sniper smiled patronizingly. "Dance, of course. I am just someone's toy, aren't I?" He stood, and somewhere between the bench being pushed back and his legs unbending, the smooth rise became the opening move in a dance.
There wasn't any music as he stepped lightly about the tank, weaving his fans in front of his body or near the tank. Most of the movement was in his arms, as far as Panzer could tell, but, wait, no, his hips were moving- He couldn't turn his optics off, couldn't tear away from the spectacle as the fans flashed and wove.
"Panzer?" Reaver rasped. "He's slicing Steelskull to ribbons."
"Uh-huh."
"I have never been more turned on in my life."
"Uh-huh."
Day/Theme: Feb. 13 'a killing dance'
Series: G1 Transformers
Characters: Panzer, Reaver, Flexagon, Steelskull
Rating: PG
Notes: Don't worry about who these people are. Set sometime during the Great War.
---
"Whadda you know? You're just some pretty-boy berthwarmer," the overenergized tank snarled.
That phrase caught Panzer's attention as he picked through his drinks, squeezing them softly. Only person 'round here that looked like that would be the... oh, slag, not the sniper. That'd better not be the sniper Steelskull was picking a fight with. He risked a glance over towards the other tank.
Forgefire and ashes, it *was* the sniper.
The lithe mech picked up his fans off the table and flipped them open. Colored wires and chains ran between the ribs, carefully seperated from each other. The fan wouldn't be much use if the monofilament wires sliced the sword-catcher chains all to pieces. The dull outside edge of the ribs was likely better for parrying weapons, if Panzer was any judge.
The tank elbowed his drinking buddy, who was staring quite openly. "Quit it."
"How in the Pit do you kill someone with that?"
"Don't let him hear you, he might demonstrate."
"Looks like he's going to demonstrate, anyway." Reaver took a swig of energon. "Steelskull's so dead he's turning grey."
Panzer grunted and tossed a digestible pouch of energon into his mouth. The vertical mouth style might be intimidatingly weird, but it was damn near useless for social drinking.
The third tank in the bar, who neither Panzer nor Reaver would admit to knowing now, slammed a fist down on the table. "What the Pit you gonna do with that?"
The sniper smiled patronizingly. "Dance, of course. I am just someone's toy, aren't I?" He stood, and somewhere between the bench being pushed back and his legs unbending, the smooth rise became the opening move in a dance.
There wasn't any music as he stepped lightly about the tank, weaving his fans in front of his body or near the tank. Most of the movement was in his arms, as far as Panzer could tell, but, wait, no, his hips were moving- He couldn't turn his optics off, couldn't tear away from the spectacle as the fans flashed and wove.
"Panzer?" Reaver rasped. "He's slicing Steelskull to ribbons."
"Uh-huh."
"I have never been more turned on in my life."
"Uh-huh."