Noisy Boy, The Steel Samurai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wakizashi_straight) wrote2013-03-22 11:25 am
wakizashi_straight) wrote2013-03-22 11:25 am
Entry tags:
Better Get Your Feet Back On the Ground
WHO: Noisy Boy and Midas
WHERE: Re/Alignment, the Haven, Vector Prime’s Temple
WHEN: During species swap
WHAT: A what-if look at a pair of bots stuck in different bodies
WARNINGS: n/a
He couldn’t stand to look at himself in a mirror.
At least, once he’d picked himself up from the corner of the room he’d staggered into when he changed. This was… wrong. He was small and soft and human. Fingers. What was he supposed to do with fingers? He had to just sit and look himself over, disbelieving what he saw, but it was obvious enough that it was true.
Something had made him human. Made him into a handler instead of a boxer.
Eventually he’d stood up and found his way to a mirror, to examine himself better. What he saw there… was Tak Mashido. Older, rougher, with deep purple hair that bore a single bright yellow streak and gnarled, ugly scars on his neck. Still, it was his creator staring back at him with keen yellow eyes.
The glass shattered as he punched it, embedding shards into his hand, and it hurt. He bled, and whimpered over it, torn between cradling his hand and his shoulder that protested with pain instead of just groans of pistons. He eventually dug the pieces of mirror out, inexpertly attending to his hand, wrapping each finger and then wrapping them together, like a glove. Rubbed his shoulder as water pricked in his eyes and eventually dripped out. How could humans stand this pain?
No wonder human boxing had been outlawed.
Midas eventually caught up to him, and Noisy Boy was not surprised by it. The Underground champ had taken to hanging around Vector Prime’s temple, probably because they were the only boxing bots around. Midas had changed too, but looked nothing like what he remembered of the bot’s handler. Lean but broad-shouldered, with corded muscle and tanned skin. Gold eyes and blonde hair with a short, bright-red Mohawk cutting a stripe through the middle.
Midas glanced to his hand, Noisy dipping his chin slightly. It had been his fault, really. He had been startled, afraid… balked at the thought that he looked anything like his maker, who moved on when Noisy Boy couldn’t.
Midas had been the one that started the transmission, asking for mechanics – doctors – to look at Noisy’s hand. He was the one that finished it though, shoving Midas out of view on the video, growling a ‘Be quiet,’ and being shocked that he said something. Speech felt strange, his accent odd. Brazil and Japan together, but something about it not being Tak’s voice made him sigh in relief. Even so, he switched to text after that, even when his friends tried to encourage him to speak. It was for the better, anyway; he and Midas has started brawling in the middle of the call and the Gold-Blooded Killer managed to break a couple fingers while knocking three of the Steel Samurai’s teeth out.
At least a doctor answered and saw them. And promptly demanded they stop fighting when the bruises and blood were noticed. Noisy Boy couldn’t get over the feel of fighting without direction, though. It felt… good. Knowing what he needed to do and executing it without having to wait for his handler’s instructions.
After that, though, he and Midas kept it strictly to shoving. Which they did. A lot. Above and beyond their arguments, both verbal and non- when Midas finally spoke. Missouri accent, a little bit of a blend between the South and Midwest, which did not shock him. They were the same arguments as ever, aside from Midas questioning how Noisy Boy hurt his hand, which he glossed over and then changed the subject as quickly as he could.
They had a slightly better grasp on humans than others that were changed did, but only barely. Midas ate tuna out of the can with his fingers while Noisy Boy struggled to figure out chopsticks to eat a bowl of noodles with – at least Kay found it amusing? Eventually they tentatively shared food with each other, quickly agreeing that Spam was terrible, but disagreeing on the amount of spice that should be in the food – and what kind. Noisy Boy used too much red pepper flake, Midas not quite enough jalapeno; something else to argue about. The smell of the lone ghost pepper they dug up was enough to make them both back off, though, eyes tearing a bit even being in proximity.
Two weeks were manageable, until the announcement came that the FirstForged were going to be able to fix it. If there had been streets, he would have expected dancing on them, but he was apprehensive, suddenly. He had been enjoying his freedom, and eventually his fingers. And his voice, though he was still tentative about that. He couldn’t speak for Midas’s thoughts on the matter. He wouldn’t miss pain, though.
The night before it was set to be fixed Midas cornered him in his room (too big even when he was bot, certainly when he was human). Noisy had to tilt his head to look down at the bot that had crowded him against the wall, furrowing his brows. Every time he tried to move away, Midas shoved him back against the wall. After a few times of this he finally became tired and tried to shove him back. There was an awkward flurry of limbs and suddenly Midas’s lips were on his, tongue invading his mouth. He practically squeaked in surprise, reeling his head back, which only made Midas lean towards him to compensate. One tanned arm looped around Noisy’s back, and a hand clenched into his hair. His own hands were up out of shock and confusion, but he slowly lowered them into Midas’s shoulders. This… this was not bad. Once he figured out what was going on.
Midas tasted of the burgers they had for dinner – all the red pepper in the world couldn’t make Noisy like burgers, he’d decided, far preferring burritos – holding onto Noisy Boy and being held onto by Noisy Boy like they’d clenched in the ring. Waiting for short punches to the abdomen or objections from an audience that never came, they stayed that way, even after breaking away from the kiss. They eventually slid down the wall and slept their last night as humans coiled on the floor with each other, unconcerned about the terrible aches they would have in the morning.
Of all the bots he had ever met, Noisy Boy should have hated Midas. He was an Underground bot with no rules, was completely full of himself and convinced of his own prowess… and was everything for his handler that Noisy couldn’t be for Tak. Midas had taken his arm, his head, and whatever reputation he had been left with. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate him.
Midas was all he had left in this world.
And he kissed awfully well.
WHERE: Re/Alignment, the Haven, Vector Prime’s Temple
WHEN: During species swap
WHAT: A what-if look at a pair of bots stuck in different bodies
WARNINGS: n/a
He couldn’t stand to look at himself in a mirror.
At least, once he’d picked himself up from the corner of the room he’d staggered into when he changed. This was… wrong. He was small and soft and human. Fingers. What was he supposed to do with fingers? He had to just sit and look himself over, disbelieving what he saw, but it was obvious enough that it was true.
Something had made him human. Made him into a handler instead of a boxer.
Eventually he’d stood up and found his way to a mirror, to examine himself better. What he saw there… was Tak Mashido. Older, rougher, with deep purple hair that bore a single bright yellow streak and gnarled, ugly scars on his neck. Still, it was his creator staring back at him with keen yellow eyes.
The glass shattered as he punched it, embedding shards into his hand, and it hurt. He bled, and whimpered over it, torn between cradling his hand and his shoulder that protested with pain instead of just groans of pistons. He eventually dug the pieces of mirror out, inexpertly attending to his hand, wrapping each finger and then wrapping them together, like a glove. Rubbed his shoulder as water pricked in his eyes and eventually dripped out. How could humans stand this pain?
No wonder human boxing had been outlawed.
Midas eventually caught up to him, and Noisy Boy was not surprised by it. The Underground champ had taken to hanging around Vector Prime’s temple, probably because they were the only boxing bots around. Midas had changed too, but looked nothing like what he remembered of the bot’s handler. Lean but broad-shouldered, with corded muscle and tanned skin. Gold eyes and blonde hair with a short, bright-red Mohawk cutting a stripe through the middle.
Midas glanced to his hand, Noisy dipping his chin slightly. It had been his fault, really. He had been startled, afraid… balked at the thought that he looked anything like his maker, who moved on when Noisy Boy couldn’t.
Midas had been the one that started the transmission, asking for mechanics – doctors – to look at Noisy’s hand. He was the one that finished it though, shoving Midas out of view on the video, growling a ‘Be quiet,’ and being shocked that he said something. Speech felt strange, his accent odd. Brazil and Japan together, but something about it not being Tak’s voice made him sigh in relief. Even so, he switched to text after that, even when his friends tried to encourage him to speak. It was for the better, anyway; he and Midas has started brawling in the middle of the call and the Gold-Blooded Killer managed to break a couple fingers while knocking three of the Steel Samurai’s teeth out.
At least a doctor answered and saw them. And promptly demanded they stop fighting when the bruises and blood were noticed. Noisy Boy couldn’t get over the feel of fighting without direction, though. It felt… good. Knowing what he needed to do and executing it without having to wait for his handler’s instructions.
After that, though, he and Midas kept it strictly to shoving. Which they did. A lot. Above and beyond their arguments, both verbal and non- when Midas finally spoke. Missouri accent, a little bit of a blend between the South and Midwest, which did not shock him. They were the same arguments as ever, aside from Midas questioning how Noisy Boy hurt his hand, which he glossed over and then changed the subject as quickly as he could.
They had a slightly better grasp on humans than others that were changed did, but only barely. Midas ate tuna out of the can with his fingers while Noisy Boy struggled to figure out chopsticks to eat a bowl of noodles with – at least Kay found it amusing? Eventually they tentatively shared food with each other, quickly agreeing that Spam was terrible, but disagreeing on the amount of spice that should be in the food – and what kind. Noisy Boy used too much red pepper flake, Midas not quite enough jalapeno; something else to argue about. The smell of the lone ghost pepper they dug up was enough to make them both back off, though, eyes tearing a bit even being in proximity.
Two weeks were manageable, until the announcement came that the FirstForged were going to be able to fix it. If there had been streets, he would have expected dancing on them, but he was apprehensive, suddenly. He had been enjoying his freedom, and eventually his fingers. And his voice, though he was still tentative about that. He couldn’t speak for Midas’s thoughts on the matter. He wouldn’t miss pain, though.
The night before it was set to be fixed Midas cornered him in his room (too big even when he was bot, certainly when he was human). Noisy had to tilt his head to look down at the bot that had crowded him against the wall, furrowing his brows. Every time he tried to move away, Midas shoved him back against the wall. After a few times of this he finally became tired and tried to shove him back. There was an awkward flurry of limbs and suddenly Midas’s lips were on his, tongue invading his mouth. He practically squeaked in surprise, reeling his head back, which only made Midas lean towards him to compensate. One tanned arm looped around Noisy’s back, and a hand clenched into his hair. His own hands were up out of shock and confusion, but he slowly lowered them into Midas’s shoulders. This… this was not bad. Once he figured out what was going on.
Midas tasted of the burgers they had for dinner – all the red pepper in the world couldn’t make Noisy like burgers, he’d decided, far preferring burritos – holding onto Noisy Boy and being held onto by Noisy Boy like they’d clenched in the ring. Waiting for short punches to the abdomen or objections from an audience that never came, they stayed that way, even after breaking away from the kiss. They eventually slid down the wall and slept their last night as humans coiled on the floor with each other, unconcerned about the terrible aches they would have in the morning.
Of all the bots he had ever met, Noisy Boy should have hated Midas. He was an Underground bot with no rules, was completely full of himself and convinced of his own prowess… and was everything for his handler that Noisy couldn’t be for Tak. Midas had taken his arm, his head, and whatever reputation he had been left with. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate him.
Midas was all he had left in this world.
And he kissed awfully well.