Dead Air [Transformers, Soundwave/Jazz, G]
Jun. 9th, 2008 08:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kalaryx.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: Dead Air
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kinrazza
Rating: G
Warnings: Dystopian AU fic, set somewhere before the first animated movie. (I figure that needs a warning.)
Word count: 824
Summary: For prompt: Transformers (G1), Soundwave/Jazz: amnesia - He could use this. Oh Primus, he could use this.
In the end, nobody really wins the war.
No-one but the scavengers and the swindlers and the scroungers, creatures who would have thrived regardless. Both Prime and Megatron are gone, and no-one has seen either of the Matrixes since Hot Rod went screaming into the ruins of Cybertron chasing the demented Seeker who'd fled with the shattered remains of both.
Jazz supposes that's what you get for letting greed and corruption get the better of your people and your society. But hindsight doesn't help those left behind to wander through the aftermath. He takes a swig from the canister of low-grade he holds and then tosses what's left to Rumble who catches it with a grin and an obscene gesture.
"You're welcome, byte-size," he says, and that earns him rolled optics from Rewind and another two-port salute from Rumble.
"Boss's in the back, freak-style," the drone says and Jazz heads for the back rooms, leaving the cassettes behind to fight amongst themselves over what's left of the energon. He finds Soundwave bent over a comms console rigged together from the bastardised remnants of what was once a battleship's main communication unit. The drone master is listening, scanning the airwaves for signs of Cybertronian broadcasts. He does not look up as Jazz enters.
"Any luck?" Jazz asks, though it's a dead cert he already knows the answer.
"Negative."
The saboteur seats himself on the edge of one of the butchered units stacked against the wall, pushing aside coiled cables and burnt-out systems boards. Leaning back he hooks his hands around one raised knee and watches Soundwave work.
"I been up round the sixth moon these past few orns. Took Arcee and Scavenger with me. Coulda done with some heavy hitter to back us up, but First Aid's still got Bombshock in for repairs after the last time we ran into Shockwave's drones. Made do with what we had. Didn't see nothing anyway."
Soundwave makes a minute adjustment on the console, but Jazz knows he's paying attention to him.
"I heard a report back from Dirge; met him and his team coming down the Omega run. Apparently they lost the entire sixth sector from Alpha-16 to Ceti-489. It's not looking good he says. Hard to tell with him sometimes, but from the way his flyers were acting I think he wasn't exaggerating for once."
Jazz lets his head lean back against the wall, his optics dimming half off. "Not looking good for anyone right now."
With a soft click, Soundwave switches the comm station to auto-record and turns in his seat to look at Jazz. The saboteur looks dented and worn, his paintjob faded and patched. More important things to spend resources on these days than the luxury of a shining finish. He meets Soundwave's optics with a nonchalance that's starting to look stretched and false, and reaches into subspace with one hand to bring out a pair of canisters, bound together by the handles.
"Picked up these though," he says, setting them on the unit next to him. "Figured you and the drones could use them."
Soundwave's gaze follows the energon canisters and then moves back up to Jazz's face. He rises, padding softly over to where the saboteur sprawls, and one hand reaches up to snag around the back of the other's neck. He doesn't say thank you, because he didn't ask for this, and they both know why Jazz is here.
The saboteur leans forward with a slow sweep of air through his cooling vents and into the drone master's touch. The fingers of Soundwave's hand play over the curve of his helm and Jazz shudders as he feels the strange touch of another's electrical field playing along his own. He doesn't want to say how much he aches for this, how much he needs this.
"Gonna sing for me, babe?" he asks instead.
Soundwave replies in light and sound and music so sweet and so piercing- and suddenly there's nothing. There's no war, no pain, no energon deprived systems beating incessant alarms for attention. He can't see the gleam of light off the side of Optimus' helm as he turns to face his enemies for the last time. Can't hear Hot Rod's scream of fury or Starscream laughing and laughing on and on. Can't feel the weight of Blaster in his arms or the way the other mech lies so still, so quiet.
He sees nothing. Remembers nothing. Feels nothing but the music as it surrounds him and lifts him away from this place.
In the dim and dusty backroom of the abandoned outpost, Soundwave holds the saboteur close and sings with a voice dark and subtle enough to take away all the pain. In the main room his rag-tag band of drones are still squabbling with each other for the sake of tradition, and in the corner the comms unit continues to scan the silent airwaves searching for anyone left to answer.
Author/Artist:
kinrazzaRating: G
Warnings: Dystopian AU fic, set somewhere before the first animated movie. (I figure that needs a warning.)
Word count: 824
Summary: For prompt: Transformers (G1), Soundwave/Jazz: amnesia - He could use this. Oh Primus, he could use this.
In the end, nobody really wins the war.
No-one but the scavengers and the swindlers and the scroungers, creatures who would have thrived regardless. Both Prime and Megatron are gone, and no-one has seen either of the Matrixes since Hot Rod went screaming into the ruins of Cybertron chasing the demented Seeker who'd fled with the shattered remains of both.
Jazz supposes that's what you get for letting greed and corruption get the better of your people and your society. But hindsight doesn't help those left behind to wander through the aftermath. He takes a swig from the canister of low-grade he holds and then tosses what's left to Rumble who catches it with a grin and an obscene gesture.
"You're welcome, byte-size," he says, and that earns him rolled optics from Rewind and another two-port salute from Rumble.
"Boss's in the back, freak-style," the drone says and Jazz heads for the back rooms, leaving the cassettes behind to fight amongst themselves over what's left of the energon. He finds Soundwave bent over a comms console rigged together from the bastardised remnants of what was once a battleship's main communication unit. The drone master is listening, scanning the airwaves for signs of Cybertronian broadcasts. He does not look up as Jazz enters.
"Any luck?" Jazz asks, though it's a dead cert he already knows the answer.
"Negative."
The saboteur seats himself on the edge of one of the butchered units stacked against the wall, pushing aside coiled cables and burnt-out systems boards. Leaning back he hooks his hands around one raised knee and watches Soundwave work.
"I been up round the sixth moon these past few orns. Took Arcee and Scavenger with me. Coulda done with some heavy hitter to back us up, but First Aid's still got Bombshock in for repairs after the last time we ran into Shockwave's drones. Made do with what we had. Didn't see nothing anyway."
Soundwave makes a minute adjustment on the console, but Jazz knows he's paying attention to him.
"I heard a report back from Dirge; met him and his team coming down the Omega run. Apparently they lost the entire sixth sector from Alpha-16 to Ceti-489. It's not looking good he says. Hard to tell with him sometimes, but from the way his flyers were acting I think he wasn't exaggerating for once."
Jazz lets his head lean back against the wall, his optics dimming half off. "Not looking good for anyone right now."
With a soft click, Soundwave switches the comm station to auto-record and turns in his seat to look at Jazz. The saboteur looks dented and worn, his paintjob faded and patched. More important things to spend resources on these days than the luxury of a shining finish. He meets Soundwave's optics with a nonchalance that's starting to look stretched and false, and reaches into subspace with one hand to bring out a pair of canisters, bound together by the handles.
"Picked up these though," he says, setting them on the unit next to him. "Figured you and the drones could use them."
Soundwave's gaze follows the energon canisters and then moves back up to Jazz's face. He rises, padding softly over to where the saboteur sprawls, and one hand reaches up to snag around the back of the other's neck. He doesn't say thank you, because he didn't ask for this, and they both know why Jazz is here.
The saboteur leans forward with a slow sweep of air through his cooling vents and into the drone master's touch. The fingers of Soundwave's hand play over the curve of his helm and Jazz shudders as he feels the strange touch of another's electrical field playing along his own. He doesn't want to say how much he aches for this, how much he needs this.
"Gonna sing for me, babe?" he asks instead.
Soundwave replies in light and sound and music so sweet and so piercing- and suddenly there's nothing. There's no war, no pain, no energon deprived systems beating incessant alarms for attention. He can't see the gleam of light off the side of Optimus' helm as he turns to face his enemies for the last time. Can't hear Hot Rod's scream of fury or Starscream laughing and laughing on and on. Can't feel the weight of Blaster in his arms or the way the other mech lies so still, so quiet.
He sees nothing. Remembers nothing. Feels nothing but the music as it surrounds him and lifts him away from this place.
In the dim and dusty backroom of the abandoned outpost, Soundwave holds the saboteur close and sings with a voice dark and subtle enough to take away all the pain. In the main room his rag-tag band of drones are still squabbling with each other for the sake of tradition, and in the corner the comms unit continues to scan the silent airwaves searching for anyone left to answer.
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 09:42 pm (UTC)Well done, dammit. Reminds me in a general way of Firefly, as an example of well done-ness. As an example of 'we are down to this, we are left with this, and all that other stuff that we made so important before means just about zip now'. And is yet not hopeless. Just folks trying to dig out and get on with life. And find a note of beauty to hold on to, now and then.
::applause::
no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 02:18 am (UTC)Ignoring all that, this is a really wonderful piece. Lots of hints that the world is bigger than this piece, that everything is going to hell in a handbasket. Yet there's a strong emotional connection to Jazz and Soundwave created, and it's really frakking awesome.
I am also really, really interested in what Kup is doing in this dystopia. I have no idea why.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 08:46 am (UTC)But! Thank you for reading despite it being completely not your usual genre types! <3 I admit, I have a serious weak spot for AU and post-apocalyptic with a dash of dystopian. >> I can't help it. I must have been dropped on my head as a child. ;)
no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 09:45 am (UTC)Also, I genuinely have no idea what Kup is doing. If you work it out, please let me know too. ;) That's the most fun part of writing AUs - coming up with interesting ideas for what's happened to everyone. I think that's why the genre appeals the most to me.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-15 01:05 am (UTC)^____^ I enjoy AU very much indeed, but I'm afraid I was done with post-apocalyptic by the end of the first ten minutes of Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. Yes, in the theater. Oh god. Well, all right, Tank Girl was great fun, but.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-15 08:16 am (UTC)I'm also guilty of pulling in characters from different continuities and sticking them where they shouldn't be, or giving them bleed-through backgrounds from a different time line. I tend to do that most with Prowl whilst sticking him into recent movie-verse which is probably unwise since the prequel comics make it look like there's a slim chance of him actually turning up. Ah well. Until then I shall play.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-16 11:50 pm (UTC)::nods:: That's why I love the 2007 movie 'verse. HUGE scope, attempts at SCIENCE, not many characters in canon yet so there's a vast amount of leeway... Well, TF:Animated is also great fun for all the cross-continuity tidbits. o^______^o
Prowl is in the Reign of Starscream sequel comics, and he is gorgeous. ::swoon:: We don't know yet how he gets separated from Prime and the other four movie 'bots. Or rather how Prime and the other four get separated from everyone else on that bigass ship they took off in. O.o The first issue already made my movie!Prowl's background AU, even if one argues the relevance of the comics to however the TF2 movie actually comes out. ^^; Oh well.
As you say, until then, we play. ^_____________________^