damned_institute | Day 44: breakfast

Yuffie had died.

No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…

Had it all been some kind of hallucination?

Had she imagined the whole thing?

No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.

The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.

Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…

[Closed to Sheena]

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Lugnut's anger remained, though a faintly smug look lit in his eye. So the traitor was afraid of him? As it should be, he thought to himself; after all, with Blitzwing gone and Scourge fawning after that human, he would doubtless be the one ordered to deliver justice upon Starscream.

"I can hold back on justice, Traitor, until Megatron gives me the order. But until then..." He leaned in close, voice dropping to an ominous rumble. "Would you like to know how I plan to deactivate you?"

For all the bravado Starscream put up... of course he was scared. Here he was, in a frail fleshling body, with no weapons or minions to back him up and take down this lumbering behemoth (well, what might as well be a behemoth). Worse still, this was a fanatic of the highest order; at least Shockwave was somewhat weak physically, and he was truly the worst when it came to loyalty to Megatron. This "Lugnut", however... the ferocity and staunch dedication in his voice was nothing Starscream had ever encountered, and if he was wearing boron boots, he would truly be shaking in them.

Still... he had to keep up what little courage he could muster. It certainly didn't help matters that his cockiness often took the better of him, and right now was no different. "While I'm sure it would be a riveting tale worthy of the worst of Cybertron's legends," he smirked, inching backwards a bit more, "would it really be WISE to devise such a plan without having it pass Megatron's muster? For if the one in your universe is ANYTHING like the one in mine, he would be OH SO DISPLEASED to know that a killing was carried out in his name in a manner not of his choosing."

He was getting desperate at this point, however, his voice and attitude wavering between audacity and desperation. "Besides... is such conversation really suitable for refueling talk? Wouldn't..." He paused for a moment, weighing his options: will this just put me in more dire straits? Or will it set him off-course, discombobulate him enough for me to quell his anger? Foolishly or not, he went for it: "...wouldn't you rather discuss the fate of your wingman, instead?"

It probably was foolish. But at this point, he'd take Lugnut's raving over the triple changer than hear the doubtless graphic description of his own death.

"Lord Megatron can hardly find fault in forethought," Lugnut growled, looming as best he knew how-- which was very well indeed-- and reached around to either side of Starscream, hands clenching around the edge of the table to cage the smaller Decepticon in. (He didn't lay a finger on the bot, though-- he wasn't going to risk the nurses' attentions, and he was more than large enough to keep from touching the disgusting little slagger with the maneouver.) "And he has always rewarded... creativity in pursuit of his goals." And even if Lugnut's actions did displease his liege, he was sure he could explain them to Lord Megatron's satisfaction-- after all, keeping the traitor cowed could hardly go wrong, could it?

Unless, of course, it could; Lugnut physically flinched at the mention of Blitzwing, the fervent light dying from his optics, though he didn't uncage Starscream.

"Unless you know more of his fate than I, you have nothing to say to me on the subject," he growled, but the edge to his voice had dulled to something close to misery.

Oh, but he can, he thought to himself, too terrified to put his thoughts into words as the lumbering Lugnut towered over him threateningly. It didn't help Starscream's composure, either, when his "fellow" Decepticon surrounded him so efficiently. At the very least, the Megatron from MY world is just as easy to dole out praise as he is punishment if things don't go exactly as he wants them. This one, though... what if he IS different enough from the one in my universe? I... I need to meet him, and soon, to at least avoid this one's single-minded wrath.

Suddenly, a break; not quite the one Starscream was expecting, but a break nonetheless, and the voice with which Lugnut would always address him was now gone, replaced with something weaker, more... humbled, almost. It was an opening, one that Starscream could still exploit, and perhaps use to prolong his health for a little while longer...

"N... no, I know not of his fate, only of what rumors have been going around..." he finally stammered, his nasal voice becoming more tolerable. "But I... I know of your feelings, Lugnut. I know of the pain of losing a wingman... a fellow flier that was your equal in many ways... " Starscream dared not put a comforting arm on the behemoth's shoulder, but remained steadfast nonetheless, staring into the optics of his adversary with as much false sympathy as he could garner.

Lugnut recoiled, as if Starscream was poisonous, and snarled, "What have you ever cared for anything besides your chassis, traitor?" His shoulders were hunching, arms tense down to his clenching fists, one lifted to gesture in blunt, violent motions as he continued, "And do not speak of things you know nothing about! Blitzwing was not my equal; he was crazy and blasphemous and reckless, unable to follow orders before getting distracted by his own scrambled processor--" His voice had been rising in volume and growing wild, wild and oddly choked, and a deep muffling ache was filling Lugnut from the pit of his fuel tank to the center of his spark to the base of his throat.

Quivering, he let out a shout, of frustration and anger and some unnameable hurt, and made a grab at Starscream's shirt to pull him closer and snarl wordlessly.

At first, Starscream panicked. It seemed the Starscream that Lugnut knew also had a knack for selfishness and using others to further his own gains; this fact threatened what shaky plans the smaller Decepticon had for dealing with the larger one. Lugnut's ravings against Blitzwing certainly didn't help matters, causing Starscream to wonder whether Lockdown's assessment of the larger one's feelings wasn't off in some way...

Of course, this all changed when Starscream detected the tell-tale signs of remorse in Lugnut's voice. His reaction was not one of hatred or zealousness; he was cracking under the lie of disgust he had toward Blitzwing, and those feelings, those pathetic, enfeebling emotions unworthy of anyone of the name Decepticon, came rushing to the surface. It's time for me to sneak in, Starscream thought to himself, clearing his throat in preparation for what would surely be a convincing speech...

Or at least, what WOULD have been a convincing speech, if Lugnut hadn't grabbed the collar around his shirt, pulling Starscream in range for the full brunt of another round of incoherent rambling.

"Lug... Lugnut, it's true!" the cowering Decepticon managed to spit out. "I... his name was Skyfire! We were scientists in the years before the start of our third Great War! But he... he was taken from my side, just as suddenly and as unfairly as Blitzwing was yours!" There was panic in his voice, but hopefully it didn't overshadow the 'truth' in his words. "He... he was my only friend... and now he's gone..." Not quite ready to cause the tear ducts by his optics to begin issuing their substance, but getting there. If his brain had a mouth, it would be smirking now.

Day 44: breakfast

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