crux_fleet | (no subject)

Who: Deadlock and Flashpoint
Where: Flashpoint's quarters
When: The day after the attack is repelled
What: Someone has been hit by the huggy happy virus.
Warnings: Huglock.

The plan was simple: Deadlock grabbed his trophy from his latest kick-aftery, to show it to Flashpoint and make the annoying Autobot realize how much more awesome he was than she was. Maybe even get her to etch that on the battered armor of the helmet he'd taken off the bad guy for good measure. He was wording exactly how she should phrase it when he bumped into the annoying squishy, but, whatever. Brownian motion took its course and the human boinged off him and back into the crowd, and Deadlock was in far too good a mood to chase after and threaten it. There was a Flashpoint to irk and he never let go of mission objectives.

Except fraggin' Flashpoint wasn't home. Primus dammit, how dare she not be here to receive her taunting?!

Fine. He could wait. He slumped on her couch for a while, tapping his foot, helmet beside him. Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting was boring. And you know what? That picture was fraggin' crooked and it was driving him nuts. And then, fraggit, the utensils in the drawer weren't all square to each other. And then....

....when Flashpoint finally arrives home, it will be to find him on his hands and knees in her bedroom, de-dustbunnying under the bed. He may, in fact, even be humming.

Threaded | Flat

Flashpoint feels weird. The whole situation had been weird. The infiltration, the audio attack, the...stuff that followed which she's not going to think too hard about...

It all comes together into a mix of mildly grumpy as she finally gets back to her place, hoping for a little respite from the insanity. She stops dead in the hallway when she sees the door to her quarters slightly ajar. Who would break into her place? Who would have access codes? What kind of security did they have around here? ... Did she forget to shut it in her rush earlier?

The agent's training kicks in, wrestling the paranoia to the ground. Clear then rooms first, then diagnose the problem. She inches up to the door, and though she sees no one through the crack there's noises coming from the bedroom. Frag. Flashpoint tends to squirrel away weapons and ammo in a lot of hiding places--you know, just in case--and the bedroom's got the best stashes. She quietly palms the front door the rest of the way open, drawing a blaster pistol and checking the front room before moving to the bedroom, back flat to the wall beside the door.

There is definitely someone in the room. But what the frag is that noise? Sounds like a trash compactor trying to carry a tune. Well whoever they are, if they're here to raid her weapons stash, they've got an ugly thing comin'.

She spins into the doorway, weapon trained on the infiltrator. "You better have a good..._explanation for this???" Is...that the aft she thinks it is?!?