Deviation Actions
Literature Text
In retrospect, Whirl was glad he hadn’t managed to kill himself. If Cyclonus wasn’t such a huge purple prick, and if Whirl didn’t have his pride, he would have thanked ol’ bunny-ears. Because this situation, now, made it all worth it. Not as exciting as offlining Killmaster in his sleep, but a heck of a lot more fun.
What had started out as a routine planetfall for the crew of the Lost Light to check on an old Autobot outpost for survivors, and if not survivors, then supplies, had turned into a pretty dramatic day as they had discovered the entire outpost wiped out. There had been the usual consternation and questions. That stuff had mostly bored Whirl, though Red Alert’s panic attack when they lost contact with the ship had been funny. Of course, they had walked into a trap. Some backwater Decepticon hicks who didn’t care that the war was over and their side had lost chose that moment to spring up out of the rubble and attack them. Five Cons to three Bots. Whirl liked those odds. Them were Wreckers odds. (it was a shame he had been kicked out of the Wreckers.)
Red Alert was taken up with a dance partner of his own, and a trio of the Scavengercons (as Whirl had quickly nicknamed them) ganged up on the legendary Ultra Magnus, "Duly-Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest blah blah blah." Whirl found himself beset by a squat little rolly-polly Decepticon covered in sharp edges. The damn thing transformed into some sort of spike-ball and rolled towards his knees. Oh, it was on.
Whirl backpedalled towards an I-beam he had noticed earlier jutting out from the rubble. It had stuck out to him because he wondered what it would be like to beat someone over the head with it. But now he had a much cooler idea. He yanked it out and dropped one end before him, holding the other up to form a ramp. By this point, Rolly-Polly was going too fast to avoid the ramp. He shot up the I-beam and went flying into the air. Whirl adjusted his grip of the beam and swung it into the air. Batter up!
Metal clanged and Rolly-Polly screamed as his trajectory violently altered. Whirl laughed. Rolly-Polly transformed, probably out of reflex, before hitting the ground hard. Whirl brought his firearms to bare and unleashed a torrent of violent energy onto his enemy. But this Con, despite his patched-together appearance, was made of some tough material. As the smoke cleared, Rolly-Polly got up with a grunt. All Whirl had done so far was mark the scavenger with a huge dent and ruin what was left of his paint job.
Rolly scrambled on all fours, and then onto two legs, making a running charge for Whirl. Whirl braced his struts and met Rolly with a resounding punch to his head. He had been wanting to bash that Con’s stupid face since first laying eye on it. Rolly grunted, took the blow, and grabbed Whirl by the muzzle sticking out of his chest. He used it to yank Whirl down and land a punch of his own into Whirl’s one-eyed face. Whirl used the opportunity of being brought down to Rolly’s level to grab his enemy’s arms, and start pulling.
Rolly struggled, but Whirl just tightened his claws around the Con’s arms. But the Con was sturdily constructed. So Whirl brought his foot up and planted it on Rolly’s chest for leverage. And pulled. And pulled.
Rolly screamed. Whirl pulled more. And then finally not one, but both of Rolly’s arms came tearing out of their anchorings. And the Scavengercon must have had more than a few system bypasses keeping him running, because his torso suddenly exploded. Whirl found himself surrounded by flame and hurtling through the air as his systems registered shrapnel imbedding into hiss armor and completely shattering his windshield-chest. Debris scraped against his back as he came to a rough landing.
And then he shut down.
When he came back online, Ultra Magnus and a one-armed Red Alert were looming above him.
“If this is the afterlife, I want my money back,” Whirl groaned.
“No, we’re very much alive,” Magnus stated.
“Yeah, I figured as much when I couldn’t feel my foot.” He lifted up the leg that he had used on Rolly. It ended quite abruptly in twisted metal. “Heh. Even dying, that guy was a loser. I took more damage from Killmaster during our light scrape-ups.”
“I found your foot,” Red Alert offered, holding up a smoldering chunk of metal. “Ratchet should be able to reattach it.”
“Red?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s not my foot.”
“Oh,” he said, and dropped it.
“Hey, what are you doing? I didn’t say throw it out!”
July 24: Challenge: Write a fan fic.
Prompt: That's not my foot.
I was all over this one. I just wish I had thought up something a bit more intelligent... but this heat has me not in the best of health right now. This certainly isn't going to dispell anyone's beliefs that Transformers isn't more than dumb fight scenes. But believe it or not, the comics are magnificent.
I have discovered that Whirl is supremely fun to write, as fun to write as he is to read. I can understand why he features so heavily in More Than Meets the Eye.