milliways_bar | (no subject)

Terrorsaur doesn't show much recognition at the mention of species.

"Awwww, such a brave little Maximal piglet," mocks the bird, the corners of its beak stretching up in a grin.

The pig says nothing, but turns a little to show the pterodactyl the two large bullet scars down his back. He doesn't need to prove himself to this bird, or anyone else. A warrior and leader, even if he had to leave his medal behind he knows he won it. And that is enough for him.

"I take it you are a gallant warrior in your parts comrade." he replies instead, perfectly amiably.

Terrorsaur isn't impressed with bullet wounds.

He's impressed with himself, however.

"Naturally." He raises his crested head proudly. "I've fought everything the Maximals have ever thrown at me.

"Who took a chunk out of you? Anyone here?"

"Mr Jones. A man I met said he drinks here, but I haven't seen him yet. What is a maximal, and what did it throw at you?"

The birdbot tilts his head.

"You should get him back before he gets you, if you know what's good for you.

"Where I'm from - the planet Cybertron - we've got two factions: Predacons and Maximals. The ancestors of the Maximals won a war a few centuries back, and they've been oppressing the Predacons ever since. I was with a group of fighters that left Cybertron to find the power to reclaim our rightful place as rulers of Cybertron. We would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for a ship of meddling Maximals that followed us. We've been fighting ever since."

"Why don't you just fly away from the ship? Nobody can catch a bird easily."

He twitches an ear. "It is against the rules to fight here, but there is a death warrent upon Jones anyway."

"Well, both our ships crashed on this unexplored planet. So the Maximal ship can't fly, but neither can ours.

"I'm sure there'd be an exception to the 'no violence' rule for someone that tried to kill you once."

He lifts his wings in a shrug, then rips off another rabbit chunk.

"How did a ship get to a planet? I didn't think any ships could fly, unless you mean a hovercraft."

He rests his chin on his trotters. "I don't know if it's appropriate to stoop to his level."

"It's a spaceship," replies Terrorsaur, as if that answers everything.

"Stoop to his level?" the bird scoffs. "It's keeping yourself safe!"

"You mean, it goes up?"

He eyes the bird. "I would like to think that I am more civilised than him. But should it come down to it, my teeth will meet his jugular with sufficient rapidity."

"Of course spaceships can fly. They go into space."

"Civilized?" The bird tilts his head, then scornfully says, "You're a pig. Did you know that?"

"Yes, of course I do."

I can understand advanced physics thank you very much. Why should I know about unimportant things like Up?

"Pigs aren't supposed to be civilized."

Then again, Terrorsaur hasn't met any pigs that talk, either.

He turns back to the rabbit, plucking out one of its eyes this time. Mmm. Eyeballs.

"Why not?"

" 'Cuz you're animals. Animals don't know the first thing about civilization." A thoughtful head-tilt, then, "Okay, maybe talking animals might know a bit more, but not really."

"Don't be ridiculous. I have been leader of a perfectly civilised collection of animals running our own farm for months without the slightest hint of human intervention. You should give yourself more credit."

"Animals run a farm?" Pause. "What's a farm?"

After another hunk of rabbit, the bird adds, "I'm not an animal. I'm a Transformer. I just look like an animal sometimes."

"We grow things. To feed ourselves."

"Oh. That's how primitives like you get food."

There's a slight sneer to Terrorsaur's voice.

"Well considering that you have chosen the form of an extinct species, I think primitive is somewhat inappropriate."

"Hey!" The dinosaur spreads its wings menacingly. "Watch it, bacon-breath!

"This form's better than yours." He snorts. "You can't even fly."

"Merely pointing out fact comrade." the pig remarks, amused.

"Well, watch what kind of facts you point out," growls the bird. "And what's the with the 'comrade' slag, anyway?"

"I, as a civilised creature, have a culture. All animals, no matter how unpleasant are comrades."

He turns away. "You, however, are not civilised enough to be an animal. Good day."

He walks away.

Terrorsaur narrows his eyes at the pig.

"Some creatures are just asking for more wounds," he mutters angrily, then continues eating his dinner.