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Title: Business as Usual
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Challenge: A through Z
Theme: B is for "Beating Up the Witness"
Fandom: Transformers/Beast Wars
Pairing: Starscream/Alexis
Genres: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing Transformers
Warnings: N/A
Themes:
A is for "Autumn Days"
---
Something was not right. He could feel it.
Starscream stood in the middle of the store, confused and frustrated. On the walls hung enlarged, flamed posters of females posing seductively in only scant, lacy undergarments, and all around him were females quietly browsing through articles of said clothing.
He was becoming increasingly agitated with the ominous feeling he was having. There was something vaguely taboo about him being in the store; that something was telling him that human males generally avoided places like this.
But he couldn't leave. He could have sworn that he saw his soldier enter the very same store. And he needed to find her because, well . . .
He was lost.
In what they had been informed to be as . . . the mall.
And if he was found like this, by any Autobot or Decepticon, or – dare he think it – Megatron . . . things were not going to end well for his neglectful guide . . .
He was startled out of his thoughts when a petite, blonde female approached him, cheerily greeting him. "Hi! Welcome to Victoria's Secret. Is there something in particular you're looking for?"
Yes, I'm looking for the fraggin' Pit-spawn femme who just walked in here, he thought angrily. Instead, he ground out, "No, I –"
Apparently "no" must have meant "yes" to this high-spirited girl for she just smiled brightly and took his hand and began dragging him through the store.
"Oh, don't be shy! So, is it her birthday? An anniversary? Or maybe it's your birthday? We've got a beautiful selection of sexy negligees and teddies for such special occasions! There's even a sale on the Baby Doll brand."
He struggled against the female's grip, snapping, "I'm not here to purchase your senseless refuge, human! I'm just looking for someone who – who – who . . . er . . ."
He was stopped in front of what must have been the 'sexy negligees and teddies' because the clueless woman started babbling about sales again, what size "she" was, what color "she" liked, what style "she" preferred, and so on. But he was a bit distracted to really respond.
He was staring at the tiny, sheer fabric pieces doused in colors of black, white, baby blue, and doll pink . . . and his newly human-configured instincts were practically howling in appreciation.
"C-Commander Star – um, Sebastian? What are you doing here?"
He glanced up, eyes drawn to the long-haired brunette. She was staring at him, lips slightly parted and green eyes wide in shock. He noted the two hangers dangling off of her fingers, the garments on them being skimpy and black.
Oh, this wasn't good . . . his could feel his body already stirring with extreme interest, images of her clad in only those slight things, lying silkily across his bed . . . beckoning him . . .
Ugh! No wonder these slaggin' organics reproduce so rapidly. Anything and everything turns them on!
Clamping down in firm command of his hormones, he managed to find his voice again, snapping, "Brecket!" He sneered and made a move to grab her arm, intending to drag her right back out of the store. Stupid femme! You'll be doing so many laps when we get back to base that you'll think twice about abandoning me in this Pit-spawn maze again!
But instead of grabbing his still surprised soldier, his arm was taken a hold of by the customer attendant in his mid-reach. He gawked down at her. She just looked up at him curiously.
"'Commander'? Oh, were you looking for the other man that came in here?"
"What? No, slaggit – !" he shouted, about ready to thrash the girl for being such an irritant. It amazed him that she was so dense that wasn't at least feeling the hostility he was directing at her.
Instead, she just grabbed his soldier's arm, too, and started pulling them to the back of the store, giggling and saying, "You must have been lost them, right? Well, the other commander – Oh, what was his name again? – well, he's back here, helping his girlfriend choose lingerie!"
"I've found who I wanted to find already! Let go of me!" he demanded, and then finally managing to wrench his arm free. But he was soon shoved through a thick, red curtain that hid a small changing room from the public's view.
"I found a friend of yours, mister!" the ditzy employee called happily.
He grimaced, snarling, "You fool, I'm not some lost pet!"
"And he is no more my ally than you are, you lack-witted femme!"
He snapped his gaze up at the sound of that too-familiar growl only to find the Autobot's weapons specialist, looking angry and miserable, sitting in a short and black, round-backed chair positioned to face a wall of curtained dressing booths.
He stared for a moment, letting to vision sink in before a nasty smirk started tugging at his lips. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Autobot," he drawled, crossing his arms. The older, scarred warrior glared up at him, his electric-blue eyes regarding him with cold resentment.
"See! I knew you two knew each other!" smiled the assistant.
His only warning was the enthusiasm lighting up her eyes before he was suddenly shoved down in a chair next to the sulking weapons specialist, and then Brecket being forced toward the booth in front of him.
"Well, I leave you all to your privacy! Don't get too frisky back here!" the attendant teased with a wink before leaving quickly, ignoring when Brecket cried out, eyes wide and a blush painting her cheeks.
"No, no wait! You've got it wrong! We're not together or anything!"
Just when the curtain began to settle after the abrupt departure, it flew open again, entering a tall, slender woman with a smile stretched across her pretty, made-up features.
"I'm back!" she called giddily, her arms full of female undergarments.
There was a groan next to him and his eyebrows went up, glancing over in time to see the aged Autobot sink deeper into the chair, a hand slapping over his eyes.
"Oh, don't be so grumpy!" she lightly scolded, speaking as if she was dealing with a fussy child rather than a humanized being from another planet who was a timeless number of years her senior.
His agitation was completely forgotten in his amusement at seeing his enemy clearly suffering. The clothes were shoved into the Autobot's lap and as she started selecting pieces from the pile, she finally looked up and was startled to find him sitting there.
He kindly offered her one of his nastiest, evilest looks in greeting.
"Oh, hi," she said, blinking and seemingly unfazed by his glare. She glanced up at Brecket, too, who was fidgeting nervously in a corner.
The strange female gasped, her eyes lighting up and a delighted grin taking over her face.
He gaped, watching her run over to the surprised femme, practically accosting her while squealing, "Ohmigod, like, you are so gorgeous!" She suddenly grabbed Brecket's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Hi, my name is Jillian Vandeberg; Jill for short! Oh, and that old guy over there is Commander Iain. I'm in the army, you see, and I - "
"Slaggit, femme, stop floundering about!" the Autobot suddenly snarled, slamming a fist down on the chair's arm. "Do what you came here for or we're leaving!"
"Oh, you can ignore him. He can be, like, a major butthead sometimes," she continued, flicking her hair over her shoulder in an act of haughty indifference, not even looking at her sulking superior. "So, what's your name? Do you, like, come here often? Oh, what brands do you like?"
He smirked heartily, stretching his legs out in front of him and enjoying how uncomfortable Brecket visible was by being bombarded by questions from the exuberant femme. Yes, it was a nice pay back that he was to accept for now.
That is, until she started answering said questions . . . and bringing him into the light.
"Oh, well, um . . . my name is Alexis Brecket, but you can call me Lex if you want. Um, the man next to your commander happens to be, um, my commander. I'm in the air force, myself, and - "
The shriek of glee startled everyone, including him when she turned to him and clasped her hands together, doing a little dance that he could only describe as someone desperately needing to empty their waste tanks.
"Like, ohmigod, are you serious?!" she turned back to the wary Brecket. "Oh, what a coinkidink! Ohmigod, we totally have to get to know each other! Here, give me those."
Before he knew it, the garments that Brecket had been holding were shoved into his own lap. He gaped, but his reaction was ignored. The energetic femme snatched up a few items from the weapons specialist's lap and forced them into Brecket's arms, saying cheerfully, "Try those on!" before pushing her into the curtained booth in front of him, and then disappeared inside her own.
The waiting room fell into silence. He was too stunned to say anything.
At first, anyway.
Slowly, he turned his gaze to the scarred, half-blind Autobot, opening his mouth . . . but was beaten to the first words.
"Say anything, now or to anyone," the weapons specialist growled softly, his tone dripping with deadly promise, not even looking at him, "and I will shove my size-twelve boot so far up your aft you'll be tasting rubber sole for a long . . . long time."
He snapped his mouth shut.
And decided that he would keep this precious, hilarious information to himself . . .
Until he was out of range of bodily harm, that is.
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Challenge: A through Z
Theme: B is for "Beating Up the Witness"
Fandom: Transformers/Beast Wars
Pairing: Starscream/Alexis
Genres: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing Transformers
Warnings: N/A
Themes:
A is for "Autumn Days"
---
Something was not right. He could feel it.
Starscream stood in the middle of the store, confused and frustrated. On the walls hung enlarged, flamed posters of females posing seductively in only scant, lacy undergarments, and all around him were females quietly browsing through articles of said clothing.
He was becoming increasingly agitated with the ominous feeling he was having. There was something vaguely taboo about him being in the store; that something was telling him that human males generally avoided places like this.
But he couldn't leave. He could have sworn that he saw his soldier enter the very same store. And he needed to find her because, well . . .
He was lost.
In what they had been informed to be as . . . the mall.
And if he was found like this, by any Autobot or Decepticon, or – dare he think it – Megatron . . . things were not going to end well for his neglectful guide . . .
He was startled out of his thoughts when a petite, blonde female approached him, cheerily greeting him. "Hi! Welcome to Victoria's Secret. Is there something in particular you're looking for?"
Yes, I'm looking for the fraggin' Pit-spawn femme who just walked in here, he thought angrily. Instead, he ground out, "No, I –"
Apparently "no" must have meant "yes" to this high-spirited girl for she just smiled brightly and took his hand and began dragging him through the store.
"Oh, don't be shy! So, is it her birthday? An anniversary? Or maybe it's your birthday? We've got a beautiful selection of sexy negligees and teddies for such special occasions! There's even a sale on the Baby Doll brand."
He struggled against the female's grip, snapping, "I'm not here to purchase your senseless refuge, human! I'm just looking for someone who – who – who . . . er . . ."
He was stopped in front of what must have been the 'sexy negligees and teddies' because the clueless woman started babbling about sales again, what size "she" was, what color "she" liked, what style "she" preferred, and so on. But he was a bit distracted to really respond.
He was staring at the tiny, sheer fabric pieces doused in colors of black, white, baby blue, and doll pink . . . and his newly human-configured instincts were practically howling in appreciation.
"C-Commander Star – um, Sebastian? What are you doing here?"
He glanced up, eyes drawn to the long-haired brunette. She was staring at him, lips slightly parted and green eyes wide in shock. He noted the two hangers dangling off of her fingers, the garments on them being skimpy and black.
Oh, this wasn't good . . . his could feel his body already stirring with extreme interest, images of her clad in only those slight things, lying silkily across his bed . . . beckoning him . . .
Ugh! No wonder these slaggin' organics reproduce so rapidly. Anything and everything turns them on!
Clamping down in firm command of his hormones, he managed to find his voice again, snapping, "Brecket!" He sneered and made a move to grab her arm, intending to drag her right back out of the store. Stupid femme! You'll be doing so many laps when we get back to base that you'll think twice about abandoning me in this Pit-spawn maze again!
But instead of grabbing his still surprised soldier, his arm was taken a hold of by the customer attendant in his mid-reach. He gawked down at her. She just looked up at him curiously.
"'Commander'? Oh, were you looking for the other man that came in here?"
"What? No, slaggit – !" he shouted, about ready to thrash the girl for being such an irritant. It amazed him that she was so dense that wasn't at least feeling the hostility he was directing at her.
Instead, she just grabbed his soldier's arm, too, and started pulling them to the back of the store, giggling and saying, "You must have been lost them, right? Well, the other commander – Oh, what was his name again? – well, he's back here, helping his girlfriend choose lingerie!"
"I've found who I wanted to find already! Let go of me!" he demanded, and then finally managing to wrench his arm free. But he was soon shoved through a thick, red curtain that hid a small changing room from the public's view.
"I found a friend of yours, mister!" the ditzy employee called happily.
He grimaced, snarling, "You fool, I'm not some lost pet!"
"And he is no more my ally than you are, you lack-witted femme!"
He snapped his gaze up at the sound of that too-familiar growl only to find the Autobot's weapons specialist, looking angry and miserable, sitting in a short and black, round-backed chair positioned to face a wall of curtained dressing booths.
He stared for a moment, letting to vision sink in before a nasty smirk started tugging at his lips. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Autobot," he drawled, crossing his arms. The older, scarred warrior glared up at him, his electric-blue eyes regarding him with cold resentment.
"See! I knew you two knew each other!" smiled the assistant.
His only warning was the enthusiasm lighting up her eyes before he was suddenly shoved down in a chair next to the sulking weapons specialist, and then Brecket being forced toward the booth in front of him.
"Well, I leave you all to your privacy! Don't get too frisky back here!" the attendant teased with a wink before leaving quickly, ignoring when Brecket cried out, eyes wide and a blush painting her cheeks.
"No, no wait! You've got it wrong! We're not together or anything!"
Just when the curtain began to settle after the abrupt departure, it flew open again, entering a tall, slender woman with a smile stretched across her pretty, made-up features.
"I'm back!" she called giddily, her arms full of female undergarments.
There was a groan next to him and his eyebrows went up, glancing over in time to see the aged Autobot sink deeper into the chair, a hand slapping over his eyes.
"Oh, don't be so grumpy!" she lightly scolded, speaking as if she was dealing with a fussy child rather than a humanized being from another planet who was a timeless number of years her senior.
His agitation was completely forgotten in his amusement at seeing his enemy clearly suffering. The clothes were shoved into the Autobot's lap and as she started selecting pieces from the pile, she finally looked up and was startled to find him sitting there.
He kindly offered her one of his nastiest, evilest looks in greeting.
"Oh, hi," she said, blinking and seemingly unfazed by his glare. She glanced up at Brecket, too, who was fidgeting nervously in a corner.
The strange female gasped, her eyes lighting up and a delighted grin taking over her face.
He gaped, watching her run over to the surprised femme, practically accosting her while squealing, "Ohmigod, like, you are so gorgeous!" She suddenly grabbed Brecket's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Hi, my name is Jillian Vandeberg; Jill for short! Oh, and that old guy over there is Commander Iain. I'm in the army, you see, and I - "
"Slaggit, femme, stop floundering about!" the Autobot suddenly snarled, slamming a fist down on the chair's arm. "Do what you came here for or we're leaving!"
"Oh, you can ignore him. He can be, like, a major butthead sometimes," she continued, flicking her hair over her shoulder in an act of haughty indifference, not even looking at her sulking superior. "So, what's your name? Do you, like, come here often? Oh, what brands do you like?"
He smirked heartily, stretching his legs out in front of him and enjoying how uncomfortable Brecket visible was by being bombarded by questions from the exuberant femme. Yes, it was a nice pay back that he was to accept for now.
That is, until she started answering said questions . . . and bringing him into the light.
"Oh, well, um . . . my name is Alexis Brecket, but you can call me Lex if you want. Um, the man next to your commander happens to be, um, my commander. I'm in the air force, myself, and - "
The shriek of glee startled everyone, including him when she turned to him and clasped her hands together, doing a little dance that he could only describe as someone desperately needing to empty their waste tanks.
"Like, ohmigod, are you serious?!" she turned back to the wary Brecket. "Oh, what a coinkidink! Ohmigod, we totally have to get to know each other! Here, give me those."
Before he knew it, the garments that Brecket had been holding were shoved into his own lap. He gaped, but his reaction was ignored. The energetic femme snatched up a few items from the weapons specialist's lap and forced them into Brecket's arms, saying cheerfully, "Try those on!" before pushing her into the curtained booth in front of him, and then disappeared inside her own.
The waiting room fell into silence. He was too stunned to say anything.
At first, anyway.
Slowly, he turned his gaze to the scarred, half-blind Autobot, opening his mouth . . . but was beaten to the first words.
"Say anything, now or to anyone," the weapons specialist growled softly, his tone dripping with deadly promise, not even looking at him, "and I will shove my size-twelve boot so far up your aft you'll be tasting rubber sole for a long . . . long time."
He snapped his mouth shut.
And decided that he would keep this precious, hilarious information to himself . . .
Until he was out of range of bodily harm, that is.
Mood: 
chipper
chipperMusic: "Flower" - Eyeshield 21
Access Music Library