Total Burnout

 

Now, it wasn’t unusual for there to be a near-riot in the Decepticon rec-room. Heck, it normally happened at least once a day depending on who was on or off duty at the time.

What was unusual, about as unusual as things could get in a purple underwater-base-that-used-to-be-a-fully-functioning-starship-thank-you-very-much filled with giant, bad-tempered alien robots, was that Skywarp was sitting, quite quietly, in a corner and industriously working on a tiny black box he seemed to be interfacing with a small (by Decepticon standards at least) portable computer that Thundercracker held with a considering sort of look on his face. 

          The rec-room was fairly empty, what with the Combaticons and the Stunticons tearing up the lower levels in an impromptu Grand Prix. No-one had bothered to point out that the Combaticons had a tank and a helicopter in their team, as the current aim of the race seemed to be to crash as many of the opposing team’s members as possible before making a break for the finish line. Thundercracker hadn’t seen much human racing, but he was fairly sure that that wasn’t the whole point - still, it wasn’t him that Megatron was stalking rapidly towards with a face that could curdle more milk than usual and a really big cannon, so he decided - quite sensibly and understandably - not to get involved.

          However this did mean that he had nothing to do when Skywarp came looking for a spare pair of hands, and therefore no halfway decent excuse to dissuade him if it turned out to be something terminally stupid. He had to admit, though, there hadn’t been any major explosions, no-one had come in yelling about the power supply giving out or gaping holes in the lower levels’ walls (or floors or ceilings, from the faint echoes), and Skywarp was actually quiet and not getting them into any sort of trouble.

          What he was going to do when he’d finished fiddling with the little human gizmo, Thundercracker carefully avoided for the moment. He’d think up reasons not to do it when he knew what he was dealing with.

“Just hold this a sec, will ya TC? Thanks...” Thundercracker rolled his optics with the ease and skill of long practice. With yet another random skein of wires looped over a gun-turret he looked as if he’d been caught in an exploded cat’s-cradle. Not that he knew that, the Decepticons not really caring too much about the cultures of the planet they occupied, but he rolled his optics anyway on principle.

 

Some time, a bundle of wires and the odd muttered curse later, Skywarp finally untangled his companion and announced “There, finished! What d’ya think, TC?”

Thundercracker eyed the thing warily. The tiny box had been spliced, diced and stuck together in, on and through the minicom and hooked up to a vidscreen overhead. A couple of spare wires still hung loose, and connected to a pair of add-ons from the human box Skywarp had also dissected and enlarged.

“What the slag is it?” he rumbled. “Looks kinda-”

“Don’t say ‘geeky’” Skywarp butted in. “It’s getting old.”

“Fine - it looks like you shot down a ‘bot, tied it in to a com and fried it.”

Skywarp grinned. “Sounds fun too, but not even close. Get a load of this...”

He carefully picked out a tiny carton from his subspace pocket and struggled with it for a moment before making a noise of disgust and swapping one hand for a long, thin tool remarkably like a screwdriver.

          “Stupid pint-sized xenos...” Thundercracker hid a smile as he watched his companion attack the box. With the aid of the tool he quickly opened it and took out a disk a fraction of the size the Cybertronians normally used.

Thundercracker buried his face in his hands. “’Warp,” he sighed long-sufferingly “ what are you doing...?”

“Just...you...watch” the seeker said, the tip of a sensory station poking out of his mouth in concentration as he nudged the tiny black box half-hidden in wires until a drawer slid grumpily out. With all the delicacy he could muster, which wasn’t usually much, Skywarp daintily placed disk into drawer between thumb and forefinger and watched with some satisfaction as it slid shut again. Job done.

“Now,” he said as images began to whizz across the screen above. “we’ll see something fun...”

And to Thundercracker’s amazement, they did.

 

*************************************************

 

Crash, bang, wallop! BOOM!

“Yee-hah! Got you TC!” “You get back here, you little- aagh!”

 

Ramjet walked into the rec-room and looked curiously for the source of the noise. The room was normally the most riotous in the entire base, so noise was expected - but there were only Skywarp and  Thundercracker in there.

Ramjet wasn’t the brightest of the coneheads. To be honest, the coneheads as a group wouldn’t win any awards for intelligence, but to be a Decepticon meant you had to recognise when things weren’t going quite right and, when they weren’t, when to pull out.

Skywarp and Thundercracker didn’t, as a rule, fight. Argue, yes - everybody argued, especially the fliers when the cabin fever got too bad, but not fight fight.

This wasn’t...quite...right.

With that sterling piece of deduction in mind, Ramjet went cautiously - but no less curiously - over to the two seekers. And goggled at what they were doing.

Side by side, the two seekers were hammering battered control pads and staring at a brightly coloured screen where what Ramjet could only describe as absolute mayhem was going on. Cars raced at ridiculous speeds, screamed madly round corners, collided violently and exploded in huge billowing gouts of flame and smoke in spectacular slow-motion.

The cars  had been customised to look just like Autobots. His optics lit up.

“Hey, guys...”

“What?” they both snapped, never taking their optics from the screen or the race and the carnage in front of them.

“Um... can I play?”

 

************************************************

 

Megatron was in a very, very bad mood as he stomped up the corridors towards his quarters. The joint efforts of the Combaticons and Stunticons had turned the walkways of the lower levels into something very close to resembling Swiss cheese, and he was trying very hard not to think about the walls and ceilings...

His head snapped round at a sudden uproar from the rec-room. It had, in fact, been going on since he’d come within audio range, but he’d been so preoccupied - and so used to hearing it - he hadn’t taken any notice.

Now, however, phrases and voices caught his attention. One voice in particular.

“Get on with it Thundercracker, crash him! There’s an intersection!”

“Quit back-seat drivin’ already, Screamer! I’ll crash his aft when I’m good an’ ready!”

“No chance TC, I’m waaaay ahead of ya! Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

 

Megatron’s optics narrowed to hellfire slits. Starscream...what is that turncoat doing now?!

Muttering curses and fuming that he really didn’t need this right now, however glad of the release a seeker-bashing might give him, Megatron stormed into the rec-room - and stared at the scene before him.

All the Decepticons not on duty (except for the two gestalt groups repairing the lower levels, and grumbling heartily about it...) were huddled yelling and cheering around one of the vidscreens, which appeared to be showing an ongoing near-constant car crash. Megatron ‘blinked’ in surprise as a car looking suspiciously like the Autobot second-in-command hurtled through the air - in slow motion with a score being tallied beside it. He was even more surprised when the shattered car bits disappeared and an identical, whole one took its place to carry on racing. Right at the front of the crowd were Skywarp and Thundercracker, who had fought off the curious masses stubbornly to keep their controllers, with the other seekers close by, the dignified Air Commander practically hanging off his triad’s wings as he hollered out potential ‘Autobot targets for his wingmates to smash up.

“Optimus Prime, dead ahead!” he yelled triumphantly as an eighteen-wheeler vaguely similar to Prime crossed ponderously in front of Skywarp, who was currently in the lead, and promptly sacrificed his head start to execute a stunning turn with wheels and audience screaming and smashed head-on to the truck, leaving the road full of debris and a spectacular explosion. The seekers cheered and Skywarp bowed to the crowd, grinning hugely, until he realised Thundercracker had passed him and was racing ahead.  Rumble was heard jumping up and down yelling “Play it back! Play it back in slo-mo, Skywarp! That was awesome!”

Megatron laughed viciously and cheered along with the rest. He spotted Soundwave near the back of the roiling throng and made his way over.

“Soundwave! Report! What on Cybertron is that?”

“Human invention reformatted to interface with base monitors” the cassette player intoned. “Function: entertaining human young.”

Megatron nodded thoughtfully. “Any possible use in combat?”

“Negative. But troops involved resulted in causing less damage and in-fighting than those elsewhere.”

His optics narrowed at the hint to the gestalts, but he let it drop. For now. “Interesting. And what was the invention and it’s simulation called, before Skywarp and company got their digits  on it?”

“Invention: Playstation 2” Soundwave replied. “Simulation: Burnout 3.”

 

 

I don’t own anybody here, okey-dokey? The Decepticons are © Hasbro, EA Games and Sony or somebody owns Burnout and Playstation is © whoever. Sony again maybe? Anyway, I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. You get the idea.  I do however own the story, so nyah.