sparksavor

[sparksavor]

rampage is my little plague rat pookie

[sparksavor]

"No," he says, bluntly; he seems perplexed that Smokescreen would even consider it a possibility. He bunts the Autobot's shoulder with his chin before turning away. "I do not have many friends."

His tail drags noisily across the ground as he lumbers in a circle, constrained within a space designed for mechs of a more average size. He sniffs at the energon storage in passing, his faceplate scrunching in a look of apparent disgust. (He abhors using anything but the freshest ingredients.)

"If I told you, you'll never learn for yourself." One great green optic peers blindly at the space beside Smokescreen's head. "You're a smart little mech. I'm sure you will learn how to prepare a passable dish... eventually. Practice makes perfect."

There's a gigantic crab outside. It stares at Smokescreen, its lurid green gaze caught somewhere between wariness and feral hunger. "I am starving. Feed me, Autobot."

Smokescreen stares at the crab through his window.

And opens the window. Being on the ground floor helps sometimes.

"Come in, then, Crabby. I can't finish this soup by myself, anyway."

He does have a comically large pot of soup cooking in the next room. Rampage can almost certainly smell it from here.

[sparksavor]

"Oh, there was no negligence involved in my creation, I assure you," the monster seems to chew on the words, mandibles twitching. "My creators were very attentive."

The sudden movement of the part being tossed to the floor grabs his attention like a hound with a bone; his head snaps towards it, and he hunkers down on all fours to examine it, the spears and harpoons lodged in his shell rattling quietly. Energon still oozes from one of the fresher wounds turned to fester, but he doesn't seem to notice nor care.

"Lonely? Loneliness is our lot is life," he says derisively, turning the broken part over in his servos. "We survive by our own strength and cunning, and ours alone."

There's a monster waiting for Ghostspire when he returns to his ship. How Rampage managed to sneak into the docks is hard to say, given his immense size; but he's there nonetheless, leaning against the hull with his arms folded. "Hello again, friend."

"Well if I had known to expect a guest I would have cleaned up." He snarked, sarcasm dripping off his glyphs like acid, optics rolling under his visor.

"The fragging pit you want? Is there a reason you won't just curl up in a hole and rust? Or go bother someone else?" No he's not pleased to see the crab, in any way shape or form. The crab makes him uncomfortable at best, pissed off at worse.

[sparksavor]

"Hn. If you say so." His dismissive tone suggests otherwise, but he's mollified by the offering of food and presently disinterested in arguing. His head stoops, mandibles parting to expose his jagged, sideways beak as he sniffs at the soup.

Forgoing etiquette, he laps it up with a barbed tongue the same radioactive shade of green as his optics. Once it's gone, he licks the spoon as well for good measure, scoring the surface until Smokescreen is holding a barely recognizable lump of metal.

"It's not good, but it's edible," he admits. "I suppose beggars can't be choosers. I'll help you clean out the pot."

There's a gigantic crab outside. It stares at Smokescreen, its lurid green gaze caught somewhere between wariness and feral hunger. "I am starving. Feed me, Autobot."

Smokescreen stares at the crab through his window.

And opens the window. Being on the ground floor helps sometimes.

"Come in, then, Crabby. I can't finish this soup by myself, anyway."

He does have a comically large pot of soup cooking in the next room. Rampage can almost certainly smell it from here.

[sparksavor]

Rampage lets the smaller mech shove him; it does nothing to move him, nor does he feel it through his thick armored shell. Still, he stares down at where he was touched with a glint in his optics, seemingly thoughtful.

"We were both made," he says, and for the briefest of moments he sounds as young as he truly is. "I understand that much. I came to understand how you embrace it, live with it."

He follows, the ship creaking as he leans against it. He seems awfully amused by the options presented to him. "You well know that if you feed a beast, it will not leave you alone."

There's a monster waiting for Ghostspire when he returns to his ship. How Rampage managed to sneak into the docks is hard to say, given his immense size; but he's there nonetheless, leaning against the hull with his arms folded. "Hello again, friend."

"Well if I had known to expect a guest I would have cleaned up." He snarked, sarcasm dripping off his glyphs like acid, optics rolling under his visor.

"The fragging pit you want? Is there a reason you won't just curl up in a hole and rust? Or go bother someone else?" No he's not pleased to see the crab, in any way shape or form. The crab makes him uncomfortable at best, pissed off at worse.

[sparksavor]

"My, my. Unhappy to see me?" The warframe prowls around him, leaning down until Ghostspire can see his own reflection in one glassy green optic. There's no hiding that Rampage is mostly blind, but he has other ways of seeing through a mech. "In hating me, you hate yourself. You and I are the same, after all."

He moves to his other side, mandibles clicking. "Monsters. Freaks. I can taste the pain and rage in your spark, oh, yes. I came to you because I was curious how much it hurt. Who was it that betrayed you?"

There's a monster waiting for Ghostspire when he returns to his ship. How Rampage managed to sneak into the docks is hard to say, given his immense size; but he's there nonetheless, leaning against the hull with his arms folded. "Hello again, friend."

"Well if I had known to expect a guest I would have cleaned up." He snarked, sarcasm dripping off his glyphs like acid, optics rolling under his visor.

"The fragging pit you want? Is there a reason you won't just curl up in a hole and rust? Or go bother someone else?" No he's not pleased to see the crab, in any way shape or form. The crab makes him uncomfortable at best, pissed off at worse.

[sparksavor]

Smell it he certainly can; his vision may be poor, but his other senses are incredibly sharp. He transforms and awkwardly squeezes through the window, gouging the frame with his claws in the attempt.

"Expecting guests? I doubt they'll be happy to see me." He looms behind Smokescreen, hunched over and almost resting his head on his shoulder. "Or maybe not. You do keep strange company."

There's a gigantic crab outside. It stares at Smokescreen, its lurid green gaze caught somewhere between wariness and feral hunger. "I am starving. Feed me, Autobot."

Smokescreen stares at the crab through his window.

And opens the window. Being on the ground floor helps sometimes.

"Come in, then, Crabby. I can't finish this soup by myself, anyway."

He does have a comically large pot of soup cooking in the next room. Rampage can almost certainly smell it from here.

[sparksavor]

Meme redraw because I couldn't get this image out of my head sknsnsndn

[sparksavor]

"What are you staring at?" the beast rasps, his mandibles glistening with viscera. He drags the body into his shadow and hunches over it protectively. "Let me enjoy my meal in peace or I'll be having you, next."

[sparksavor]

"I'm not interested in whatever mindless schlock you consider entertainment."

Rampage transforms and crouches down, awkwardly propping one elbow on his knee. He could have offered the little Autobot one of his crusher claws to wrestle with, but he's decided to be a gentleman, for once. Not that it matters. His arm alone probably outweighs Smokescreen.

"Go ahead. I'm hungry."

"You're on! But if you can't eat me, you'll have to watch some tv with me."

He isn't all that confident in his upper arm strength, but he is confident in his ability to not go out the way of Amelia Earhart.

[sparksavor]

Hey, Mr. Krabs. Bet I could take you in an arm wrestle.

"Could you?" The lobster-like creature squints at him, intrigued. "I'll let you try. If you fail to impress me, I'll put that malfunctioning processor of yours to better use as my lunch."

[sparksavor]

"Despite my best attempts otherwise, I live."

[sparksavor]

"Not quite." It draws its crusher claw back in, crossing them both one over the other. "It was a guess, and you confirmed it. You can say whatever you like, but your emotions speak the truth. You cannot lie to me. Isn't that fun?"

"Well aren't you a masochistic little slagger." Seeming bored out of his processer as he looked around and barely suppressing a twitch.

"Now where'd you get a stupid idea like that? Sparkeaters aren't real."

[sparksavor]

"Well, now you've met me. And I can tell you I'm no prank." It almost looks as if the crustacean is smiling. "If a hunter amuses me, I let them take my head. It'll only grow back and I find the agony thrilling."

"But you're avoiding my question. You're a sparkeater, aren't you?"

"No, I have plenty." Waving a servo and watching the mech. "Besides every time someone brings in your helm you come back. Most hunters think your a prank bounty, despite the credits."

And taking a healthy step back from him as he watched said claws reach out.

[sparksavor]

"You know who I am." The beast's mouthparts click, mandibles curling inwards. "There's no point in confirming it."

It reaches out one of its massive claws, the sharp tip idly scraping out a furrow in the ground. "Are you considering my bounty for yourself? It's one of the highest on the board. Imagine what you could do with all that shanix."

"...Your the mech that keeps getting killed but wont die, right? Crabby something?" Purposefully getting the name wrong as optics squint behind his visor.

Yeah, yeah this was the mech.

[sparksavor]

"S-203." A burst of static. A voice speaks through the transponder. "Your distress signal has been received. Please respond."

The Argonite trawler creaks and sways beneath him as he turns to the ship's controls. The incoming message light blinks, the green hue turned blueish by the viscera coating it; Rampage continues chewing on his mangled prize, thoughtful.

"I hope they weren't friends of yours." The voice that pierces the static is raspy, quiet. The sound of crunching and splintering continues. "If they were, perhaps I should pay you a visit, next."

[sparksavor]

THE CRAP???

Following a long, long pause in which it seemed the monster was going to remain asleep, it cracks open one optic and stares at him.

"It's crab."