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Brawl counted how many empty cubes were there in a tall stack over his table. Two cubes meant one day.
He slumped on the table, chin on his hands, still counting. He didn’t know he could be this bored without mission. Sometimes, Megatron could be so mean. It was Blitzwing’s fault, not his! He wasn’t the one who went trigger-happy when an Autobot appeared in their reconnaissance mission.
Two cubes… three cubes… three and a half cube from Swindle’s high-grade stash… He heard someone walked to the rec room.
“Blast Off?”
The footsteps stopped, then walked away.
Brawl whined.
…three cubes plus one from Swindle… five cubes…
He had nothing to do, dammit! Since their base was still being repaired, he couldn’t shoot at the shooting range. Too bad, the drones were actually pretty nice targets. He had watched his entire collection of vids, plus some human TV, but his usual channel was off for now.
The others had had missions. About what, he didn’t know. Onslaught didn’t tell him because Megatron called them, leaving no time to talk. Blast Off had just gone back from space a few hours ago. And, although, at first, it was kinda nice to have the base all to himself, now it was very boring. Not to mention that there were no prisoners he could play with, or just to annoy them off.
…six cubes… seven cubes…
He heard some footsteps again, this one was heavier than before.
“Blast Off?”
Instead of Blast Off, Onslaught appeared in the entrance to the rec room. His plating was a bit scratched, but his overbright visor could tell that he was in a giddy mood. That and the way he replied him. “I’m afraid you’ve called me by a wrong name.”
Huh, the joy of kicking the Autobots’ afts. Or did he just come here to piss Brawl off?
Onslaught filled a cube in the dispenser, retracted his mask with a smirk on his faceplate, turned on music on the console, then sat next to Brawl. “Bad day, I suppose?”
Brawl just responded with a ‘hmpf’.
Onslaught chuckled.
“Where were you?” asked the tank. “You didn’t tell me your mission. I’m rusting here for a week.”
Sipping his cube, Onslaught laid back on the chair, his voice rich with amusement. “You’ve been here for only a few hours.”
“Frag no. I remembered recharging here.”
“Well, I can tell that by the stack of high-grades.”
Brawl looked up, his visor brightened for a moment. “I wasn’t drinking high-grade.”
“Of course you are. The smell is in the air, you know. And your field is a mess.” Onslaught patted his muzzle, letting his field grind against the tank’s. “I didn’t remember you could take seven cubes in a row without getting overcharged, so I’ll take it you took your daily rations too.”
Brawl whined, then slumped again.
“Blast Off has been here for 3 hours.”
“He slagged off without me.”
Onslaught sipped his cube again. “You didn’t work on your chemical bomb?”
“I stuck, I needed a break.”
The truck just patted his muzzle again.
“Ons?”
“Yes?”
He looked up, hopeful. “Tell me about your mission?”
Onslaught chuckled, then began telling him. “So, mostly I just kicked some Autobot’s aft. Too bad I wasn’t allowed to plan for the attack. There were this red Autobot with his yellow counterpart who seemed to like to frag me off…”