liesdontfindyou: (Default)
CT ([personal profile] liesdontfindyou) wrote2020-08-01 03:10 am
Entry tags:

Open Post

 


AUs:
  • Connie survives Longshore and either a) is the CT at Sandtrap b) ends up in Blood Gulch c) disappears until another point in time, canon event related or not.
  • Connie never defects from Project Freelancer.

a_shadow: (Downcast)

After Connie places the dogtags but before she defects

[personal profile] a_shadow 2020-07-23 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
Agent Texas rarely goes to the locker room. Well, even that's an exaggeration. She never goes to the locker room. But for some reason today she decides to pop in, and notices that she has a locker with her name on it. There's the usual hustle and bustle of people marching in and out, on their way to work out or whatever they plan to do. But Texas approaches the locker and opens in, wondering why she's never had occasion to do so before. Doesn't she just change in her room, and go there right after workouts? She's unsure. Weird, how someone could just not remember details of their daily life like that.

She finds nothing inside but a disc drive disguised as a dog tag. She notices it's a disc drive right away because it's too thick to be a normal dog tag.

That night, after AI class is over, she slips into the room and uses one of the terminals to play the files enclosed in the drive. What she sees confuses her at first. The more she views, however, the more she understands. There's just one bit that doesn't make sense—Connie saying she's probably gone. Maybe it's because their latest mission has been delayed. She doesn't know. But she knows who she needs to talk to about it.

It's late at night according to the ship's clock. Texas knocks on the door to Connie's quarters and waits for a response.
lordmegatronhasfallen: (grumpy)

In the MoI Hangar, Pre-Bjorndal

[personal profile] lordmegatronhasfallen 2020-08-17 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"I used to be Air Commander," Starscream mutters, hunched over with a canister of fuel in one hand, nursing it with a vengeance. Long gone are the sleek, sweeping wings of an F-15; he may be the same colours, but time and necessity have forced him to take the alt-mode of a YSS-1000 Sabre, its engines mounted on his wings a far cry from the once iconic Seeker profile. The leap in their technology would be remarkable, if it wasn't for the fact it was organics'. His paint is faded and chipped, and that too is a far cry: a far cry from the once proud Second in Command of the Decepticons. Starscream is on his own.

"And now," he hisses, "Here I am, drinking this slag they call fuel!"

There's a quickly squashed urge to throw the fuel canister in frustration, but instead he stays his hand, hissing lowly. The last time he had caused a racket, he had woken half this ship, drawn far too much attention. It's not a risk he can afford to make. Here, Primus knows where in the galaxy, trapped in a human starship's hangar, blending in is survival. It's only luck that they found him, and only luck that he was awake enough to scan himself a new alt-mode to hide in time.

"It's just my stupid luck that nobody even thought to go looking for me. Not even to confirm I was dead! Primus knows how long it's been! Useless, worthless scrap-eaters-"