Title: Denial
Words: 433
Warning: stubborn denial
Christmas Calendar meme thing entry Six, "Hex"
Hook having... issues...
Beta by
magni_zeal
It was such a pure shape… but not perfect. Hook pressed his dermas together and rapped a knuckle joint on the surface of the data pad. He hated limitations!
This planet was unstable, its inner core liquid and volatile, even prone to erupting though the thin top layer of semi stable land mass. It pressed upon it, it shifted the layer around.
Volcanoes, earthquakes… and he had to contend with that? It was an offense, an outrage! He was the greatest artist in the history of Cybertron!
He had created Crysta…
Hook felt his spark spasm in a well known and hated manner. That place had no meaning to him! There had been no one there he cared for there!
lies, lies, lies sang his spark
He looked at the blueprints once again, snarling and throwing the data pad against the wall before stomping out of the poor excuse of a workshop he had now. He would have to start all over now! It wasn’t good enough, it was not perfect, it would not last!
How could anyone expect him to manage anything here!
lies, all lies!
But he would never admit that, now would he? Not he, not his brothers… not one of them would, or could, admit what had been done to them. And why should they? They were happy here, they could do pretty much what they wanted, for they were the closest Megatron had to medics, the closest he had to scientists…
Starscream was no contestant, too volatile to be of any real use to the Decepticon leader. Second in command? Ha!
Another data pad was taken out and a new drawing begun. New blueprints, new calculations. And slowly it took form there on the screen, perfection… beauty, creation.
Then reality crashed as the final form came into being.
A hexagon…
A fragging hexagon again!
The data pad smashed into the wall as Hook howled with incoherent rage, feeling his gestalt mates startle though the bond they shared. He did not care. This orn that shape was haunting him… so perfect, so perfect…
No! Not perfect… never perfect!
lies, all lies… his spark whispered again
NO! Not lies… never lies.
He was not rebuilding the city… no, no, no!
He did not miss that place! Did not miss that mech…
He flopped onto the berth in his room, ignoring his gestalt, ignoring the world and his deadline. Recharge… just a bit of it, and then he would finish the project.
Optics dimming and conscious thought shutting down; one image grew sharp in his processor.
Oh, Omega, I miss you...
Words: 433
Warning: stubborn denial
Christmas Calendar meme thing entry Six, "Hex"
Hook having... issues...
Beta by
It was such a pure shape… but not perfect. Hook pressed his dermas together and rapped a knuckle joint on the surface of the data pad. He hated limitations!
This planet was unstable, its inner core liquid and volatile, even prone to erupting though the thin top layer of semi stable land mass. It pressed upon it, it shifted the layer around.
Volcanoes, earthquakes… and he had to contend with that? It was an offense, an outrage! He was the greatest artist in the history of Cybertron!
He had created Crysta…
Hook felt his spark spasm in a well known and hated manner. That place had no meaning to him! There had been no one there he cared for there!
lies, lies, lies sang his spark
He looked at the blueprints once again, snarling and throwing the data pad against the wall before stomping out of the poor excuse of a workshop he had now. He would have to start all over now! It wasn’t good enough, it was not perfect, it would not last!
How could anyone expect him to manage anything here!
lies, all lies!
But he would never admit that, now would he? Not he, not his brothers… not one of them would, or could, admit what had been done to them. And why should they? They were happy here, they could do pretty much what they wanted, for they were the closest Megatron had to medics, the closest he had to scientists…
Starscream was no contestant, too volatile to be of any real use to the Decepticon leader. Second in command? Ha!
Another data pad was taken out and a new drawing begun. New blueprints, new calculations. And slowly it took form there on the screen, perfection… beauty, creation.
Then reality crashed as the final form came into being.
A hexagon…
A fragging hexagon again!
The data pad smashed into the wall as Hook howled with incoherent rage, feeling his gestalt mates startle though the bond they shared. He did not care. This orn that shape was haunting him… so perfect, so perfect…
No! Not perfect… never perfect!
lies, all lies… his spark whispered again
NO! Not lies… never lies.
He was not rebuilding the city… no, no, no!
He did not miss that place! Did not miss that mech…
He flopped onto the berth in his room, ignoring his gestalt, ignoring the world and his deadline. Recharge… just a bit of it, and then he would finish the project.
Optics dimming and conscious thought shutting down; one image grew sharp in his processor.
Oh, Omega, I miss you...
- Location:Denmark, Copenhagen
- Mood:
awake - Music:none

Comments
So my question is 'how' and how do they cope. I came to the conclusion that they didn't cope, they felt pain and that lead to incoherent anger that had no real target and so was funneled at the Autobots and Omega... the only available target that their reprogrammed processors would accept.
yeah >.> ^^;