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31_days2007-02-03 02:38 pm
beckyh2112.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-02-03 02:38 pm
[Feb. 3][Transformers] Stained Glass Meeting
Title: Stained Glass Meeting
Day/Theme: Feb. 3, 'the wicked daughter'
Series: G1 Transformers
Character/Pairing: 2112, Steelcircle
Rating: G
Summary: Two Mayhems that will go down in legend and infamy meet for the first time.
Author's Note: This is pure crack.
---
2112 had what her fathers' more polite artistic acquaintances termed an 'avant-garde' name. A string of numbers rather than a descriptive! How novel! What an interesting new developement in Needlenose's style! Even if she did have the oh-so standard body of a Decepticon hunter-seeker jet.
2112 herself regarded her name as one more burden in a life that seemed determined not to let her deal with the rest of the Decepticons on anything approaching a normal-level. She'd change it if she could, but she was still very young and had a hard time coming up with a descriptive that didn't either a) make people giggle, or b) wasn't already in use by someone else. So she persevered through her name, even if it did lead to badly-suppressed snickers when she completed Basic Training and went on to the Academy of Military Police.
She suspected that if it were just her name that she had to deal with, then she would have been much better off. But no, there was her body.
The first and most obvious to anyone was that she sparkled. At her best, she looked like a facetted jewel under a bright light and just left people not wanting to look at her too closely. At her worst, it looked like there were small flash-bombs going off all over her armor. She could literally blind someone if she tried hard.
The middle-ground, unfortunately, made people's processors ache and their optics start feeding in random data that made their processors ache more. It made it rather difficult to talk to people when she was having to force her body to be as unshiny as possible.
She'd tried using matte paint instead of whatever it was that Needlenose had built her with, but that would begin to sparkle after a couple of days. Eventually she just gave up and went for an eye-searing combination of pink and purple. If she was going to make people sick just by being in their line of sight, she might as well do it right.
Besides, the poor dumb schmucks still got disturbed by her optics. They were what were called 'mood-optics', changing colors in response to shifts in her emotion processors. She had a lousy poker-face because of that, but at least she'd managed to clean out almost all of the pseudo-random processes that would change her optic color for no reason at all.
Given that she seemed built entirely for the purpose of making interactions as painful as possible, 2112 thought she was quite gracious in how she dealt with people. Her classmates, teachers, and the unfortunate sods who got stuck as her roommates all disagreed.
She was being graced with yet another new roommate today. After another class where the instructor ignored her questions, she was looking forward to taking it out on someone.
She punched in the key-combination to her lock and waited for the door to cycle open. She expected to be greeted by sullen silence - all of her roommates seemed to have some sort of problem that made rooming with them even more of a trial than necessary. Some days, she suspected the Academy staff were using her as a punishment.
There was a pearlescent automotive sitting on the berth opposite of hers, a datastick plugged into one arm and a partially disassembled neuro-scrambler in her lap. The car seemed to be trying to reassemble it with an omnitool, but glanced up when she stalked into the room.
Before 2112 could say anything at all, the car pointed a finger at her and growled, "All right, let's get one thing straight - if my alternate-mode is an issue then I'll put dirty pictures of the sarge on your berth right before inspection. -And, Primus, do you use enough polish?"
"It's not polish," 2112 informed her haughtily. "Who are you?"
"Your new roommate." The car had a feminine voice that was actually rather pleasant to the ear. Her body-shape wasn't unpleasing, either; 2112 knew enough artists to have learned to appreciate other people's bodies on an aesthetic level. The car's pearlescence was broken up by black and near-black red accents, and her overall shape was the angular fighting machine style so common among certain types of Decepticons. The only particularly non-Decepticon-styled-automotive part of her design were the door-wings thrust proudly out. "Idiot Seeker."
"That's rather blindingly obvious. Your name?"
The car snerked a bit to herself. "Steelcircle."
2112 didn't think she'd said anything funny at all, and she could feel her optics shifting colors rapidly as irritation mounted. She didn't like this one. She hadn't expected to like this one, really, but she wasn't supposed to be getting laughed at. "I'm 2112."
"So I've heard."
The jetgirl canted her head slightly, head-vents resting against her intakes. She'd heard the name 'Steelcircle' before. "Oh, yes, you're the half-breed. That Red Alert's spawn."
Steelcircle's optics blazed like a city set to the flamethrower. "Yeah, and you're an expletive artist's drug-induced project. Don't think you're so much better than me because both of your daddies are Decepticons."
2112 flapped her ailerons derisively. "Oh, do get over yourself. Why should I care where you come from?"
The car seemed to be doing her level best not to look directly at 2112. Not unusual, really. "You shouldn't. I'm a Mayhem-trainee, same as everyone else. The Autobot-mechanics don't change that."
"Well, they do make you a bit harder to maintain," 2112 pointed out. "Given the differences in how the technology developed."
Steelcircle threw the omnitool at her.
End
Day/Theme: Feb. 3, 'the wicked daughter'
Series: G1 Transformers
Character/Pairing: 2112, Steelcircle
Rating: G
Summary: Two Mayhems that will go down in legend and infamy meet for the first time.
Author's Note: This is pure crack.
---
2112 had what her fathers' more polite artistic acquaintances termed an 'avant-garde' name. A string of numbers rather than a descriptive! How novel! What an interesting new developement in Needlenose's style! Even if she did have the oh-so standard body of a Decepticon hunter-seeker jet.
2112 herself regarded her name as one more burden in a life that seemed determined not to let her deal with the rest of the Decepticons on anything approaching a normal-level. She'd change it if she could, but she was still very young and had a hard time coming up with a descriptive that didn't either a) make people giggle, or b) wasn't already in use by someone else. So she persevered through her name, even if it did lead to badly-suppressed snickers when she completed Basic Training and went on to the Academy of Military Police.
She suspected that if it were just her name that she had to deal with, then she would have been much better off. But no, there was her body.
The first and most obvious to anyone was that she sparkled. At her best, she looked like a facetted jewel under a bright light and just left people not wanting to look at her too closely. At her worst, it looked like there were small flash-bombs going off all over her armor. She could literally blind someone if she tried hard.
The middle-ground, unfortunately, made people's processors ache and their optics start feeding in random data that made their processors ache more. It made it rather difficult to talk to people when she was having to force her body to be as unshiny as possible.
She'd tried using matte paint instead of whatever it was that Needlenose had built her with, but that would begin to sparkle after a couple of days. Eventually she just gave up and went for an eye-searing combination of pink and purple. If she was going to make people sick just by being in their line of sight, she might as well do it right.
Besides, the poor dumb schmucks still got disturbed by her optics. They were what were called 'mood-optics', changing colors in response to shifts in her emotion processors. She had a lousy poker-face because of that, but at least she'd managed to clean out almost all of the pseudo-random processes that would change her optic color for no reason at all.
Given that she seemed built entirely for the purpose of making interactions as painful as possible, 2112 thought she was quite gracious in how she dealt with people. Her classmates, teachers, and the unfortunate sods who got stuck as her roommates all disagreed.
She was being graced with yet another new roommate today. After another class where the instructor ignored her questions, she was looking forward to taking it out on someone.
She punched in the key-combination to her lock and waited for the door to cycle open. She expected to be greeted by sullen silence - all of her roommates seemed to have some sort of problem that made rooming with them even more of a trial than necessary. Some days, she suspected the Academy staff were using her as a punishment.
There was a pearlescent automotive sitting on the berth opposite of hers, a datastick plugged into one arm and a partially disassembled neuro-scrambler in her lap. The car seemed to be trying to reassemble it with an omnitool, but glanced up when she stalked into the room.
Before 2112 could say anything at all, the car pointed a finger at her and growled, "All right, let's get one thing straight - if my alternate-mode is an issue then I'll put dirty pictures of the sarge on your berth right before inspection. -And, Primus, do you use enough polish?"
"It's not polish," 2112 informed her haughtily. "Who are you?"
"Your new roommate." The car had a feminine voice that was actually rather pleasant to the ear. Her body-shape wasn't unpleasing, either; 2112 knew enough artists to have learned to appreciate other people's bodies on an aesthetic level. The car's pearlescence was broken up by black and near-black red accents, and her overall shape was the angular fighting machine style so common among certain types of Decepticons. The only particularly non-Decepticon-styled-automotive part of her design were the door-wings thrust proudly out. "Idiot Seeker."
"That's rather blindingly obvious. Your name?"
The car snerked a bit to herself. "Steelcircle."
2112 didn't think she'd said anything funny at all, and she could feel her optics shifting colors rapidly as irritation mounted. She didn't like this one. She hadn't expected to like this one, really, but she wasn't supposed to be getting laughed at. "I'm 2112."
"So I've heard."
The jetgirl canted her head slightly, head-vents resting against her intakes. She'd heard the name 'Steelcircle' before. "Oh, yes, you're the half-breed. That Red Alert's spawn."
Steelcircle's optics blazed like a city set to the flamethrower. "Yeah, and you're an expletive artist's drug-induced project. Don't think you're so much better than me because both of your daddies are Decepticons."
2112 flapped her ailerons derisively. "Oh, do get over yourself. Why should I care where you come from?"
The car seemed to be doing her level best not to look directly at 2112. Not unusual, really. "You shouldn't. I'm a Mayhem-trainee, same as everyone else. The Autobot-mechanics don't change that."
"Well, they do make you a bit harder to maintain," 2112 pointed out. "Given the differences in how the technology developed."
Steelcircle threw the omnitool at her.
End