#cruelsinger

I'm a sparkeater, so...

"Sometimes I think about all the relationships I had before meeting you and see I did make a lot of mistakes and dropped the ball with quite a few. This has made me question if I'm good enough to be by your side or worse might self-sabotage it like the others."

Rodimus felt his spark turn quickly as he looked around the area, a small datapad full of information about the area in his hand. There were so many interesting areas that he and Tarn could check out here, not all of them having to do with music. It was arts and culture, which he figured that Tarn would enjoy, plus it was a whole new culture so hopefully he could try to endear some of the other peaceful mechanicals to his partner. Baby steps would help if they wanted to work out right?

Looking down at the datapad, he pulled up a map and started down the sidewalk to the museum where he had told Tarn he would meet him. Some time out just for the two of them was just what he needed and he had even shined himself up a little for this excursion. He wondered if Tarn would notice that he had gotten himself detailed for their date.

Decepticons. DISGUSTING - the whole lot of them. Pretending to live peacefully in the wake of a war long fought, but not yet over - not for them. Sharp pede propped against the backplates of a mech long since burned through, heel bent to shove corpse clear from its seated position. Razor claws propped on one hip-plate, the other dragged across active soundboard, sliding and pressing to test each function with intrigued curiosity. Red optic widened as a ping sounded, alerting of an active flux in the area. Space bridge maybe ? Or was it the ship he was so used to seeing before the arrival of the mech he was always delighted to see ? Sharp digits scraped along the console as he twisted, briskly moving through the vacant hall, headed for the front door of the illustrious estate.

He’d located the informant quickly, having once been a data interceptor himself. It reminded him of older times - working for his Prime as they advanced on the pathetic Megatron and his lackeys. It had taken him little time to rid the universe of the little weasel, as the organics on Earth once said, and moved on to the next step - investigating the spoils they’d gained. As soon as he’d found the looming estate, he’d known exactly who to call. His universe  was hardly inviting, but the remnants of its wealthiest districts were still lush with riches to explore - such as the magnificent theater installed within its basement dwellings. Blurr waited with anticipation, pede tapping as he stood outside, one claw on his hip, the other dragging razor index against jagged scars along jaw, comms crackling into activity.

« Ah, JT... I assume that would be you approaching? Not gonna make me wait all night, are you? K-Kyeheheheh. You know how IMPATIENT I can be. Hurry up ! Before I start enjoying the surprise without you ! »

“Tarn, oh Tarn,” Kaon’s voice sang-song into the DJD leader’s quarters. “Have you seen Pet? He stalked off earlier and has yet to come back. I do wonder if he is hunting vermin in the bowels of the ship.” Not that there was often any, but his Sparkeater stamped out anything before it could truly take root. He was a very good boy!

“Oh! And that little organic. He seems to be recovering well in your office.” 

The blind mech was in a playful mood, belied by the fizzing electricity at his coils and the bounce in his step. He beamed up in what he thought to be the singer’s direction, waiting for acknowledgement. 

"Once upon a time, there was a handsome dragon with wings that were as dark as carbon. He was young and strong, and needed to find himself a mate that would travel with him through the storms that rode through the Wastes. As he grew up, he always heard that he needed a strong mate with wings just as big as his. With fangs as sharp as knives and talons that could cut through rock. To find someone just right for him, he decided to fly through the Wastes and see who could match these things. And as he went, he saw many different mecha. He found... Mecha who's modes were turbo foxes. And ones who were cougars. Mecha who were as big as he was, and ones who's claws were so sharp they could cut anything in their path. But as he traveled, none of them seemed to be right for him. They were strong, but they were cold. They were able to fight, but they didn't have anything to talk about..."

Some time in the future.

Frag. He hates Messatine. It's cold and snowy and icy everywhere and it gets in all of his joints. He had been okay for a bit with the Pet dozing across his lap, but the beast returned to his master's side leaving Drift in the cold again.