Dysfunctional Team: Pilot

Dead End was in the command room, looking at the tactics Onslaught was using. Onslaught and him had a good system going on in regards to anything that involve a plan. Onslaught would come up with the plans and Dead End would figure out all the bad things that could happen in the plans. If you ask him "What's the worst thing that could happen?" he will depressingly give you all the ways in which it could end badly. It was his specialty. Sure, it didn't give a good social life, but it did help out in plans, whether it's battle strategies or how to best ration out supplies.

He was currently looking at the supply manifest. They medics all have their tools along with back-ups, so their good, unless a freak explosion happens. Hey, you never know. The energon supplies were still high and should be good, unless Misfire somehow manage to blow them up again.

Dead End just got done with the last of the supplies when he got a called from Onslaught on the comm. link. The red and black con answered in a bored tone, "Yes, Onslaught."

"Just decided to tell you to go to the firing range; Misfire is there right now and everybody is too busy to watch and make sure he doesn't blow anything up again by accident." Onslaught said.

"Alright, I'm heading there now. I just finish checking the supplies. Come read the notes I'd left for you once you get the chance."

"Will do. Later, Dead End." Onslaught hung up, leaving Dead End all by his lonesome self. He headed for the door quickly, knowing that if Misfire is left alone for too long, disaster was sure too struck. Last time they did that, as previously mentioned, he somehow blew up half of the energon, leaving more than a few Decepticons tick off. Misfire made the wise decision to hide until it blew over, which was a pretty long time.

Dead End went into the brightly lit hallways and made his way to the firing range. It was a short walk, the firing range was near the middle of the base, the command center, and could be reach quickly at most places. Dead End passed by several of the Vehicons, most of which were idly talking each other, enjoying the fact that they have a social life, unlike a certain moody red and black bot.

Dead End was at the firing range now. He stop before he entered the door. He could hear Misfire firing on the other side, probably missing all the targets. Dead End, despite ultra-depressing and talked like he'd was best friends with death, didn't exactly wanted to go in there. Misfire astonishing inaccuracy would probably hit him, and, knowing Misfire skill with a gun, probably would give him an agonizingly slow death instead of a quick one. Dead End may be a fatalist, but he wasn't masochist.

Dead End, finally gaining the courage (and urge to care), went into the room. He found Misfire firing at the targets in the room, red-and-white cutouts of bots. At least, he was trying to hit them. So far, the only thing he hit so far was the wall and a Vehicon that had his helm blown off. Misfire must've accidentally hit him. Wasn't the first time he'd accidentally killed one, not that many people cared. They were just cannon fodder anyway.

Dead End slowly walked up to Misfire, taking care to make sure Misfire wasn't accidentally pointing the gun in his direction. Misfire looked frustrated, which wasn't surprising. He just wanted to hit something that wasn't moving. The Vehicon was moving like a idiot into his line of sight and died by a misplaced bullet. He noticed Dead End was coming his way and took cared not to aim at him. Unlike Vehicons, some people would care if he died.

Dead End stood by Misfire, watching him shoot the gun. Honestly, he looked like he was holding the gun correctly and was aiming at the target, but the shot always manage to somehow be way off target. It was quite the phenomenon, all this failing. Misfire, Dead End had to admit, was determine. He was not going to give up until he hit one of these targets. You here me, he was not going to-

He gave up.

Misfire threw his gun on the ground and kicked it once, accidently firing the gun and almost hitting Dead End in the head if he didn't duck in time. Looked like Dead End still had self-perseveration instinct. He looked at Misfire, looking at the gun like it personally insult him, and said some really bad things about his momma. Dead End watched this with a uninterested look, his purple optic looking at other areas. A Vehicon was poking his head inside to watch the show.

Misfire was calming down now, now only looking at the gun like it was idiot. He grabbed the gun and headed for the armory the the back of the room, muttering to himself that it was just defective gun and that he should report it to the his superiors once he was done. A superior just so happened to be here right now and wanted to see if the gun was really defected. "Misfire, can I see the gun?" Dead End asked in the same bored tone.

Misfire looked at him and said "Sure. I think the gun's defected or something. It keeps missing for some reason." 'Sure, just like the gun you use to kill your twenty allies back at Iacon' Dead End thought to himself. He took the gun and headed to the range, ready to try the gun out. He hold it out, putting the end on his shoulder and aimed down the sight. He tooked aim at the head of a target and fired.

It took the target's head clean off.

Dead End, deciding that one perfectly executed shot wasn't enough, decided to take off the two arms of the target off next. Both shoots landed right in the shoulder, taking the arms off. For the Coup de Gras, he aimed right at the sparked chamber of a target and fired, punching straight through the target's spark.

With that done, he handed the gun back to Misfire and said in his ever bored tone, "I think the gun is working, but feel free to try out a different gun if you want to. Maybe one of those might actually be defected and blow up in your hands. It's best to figure this out before we do suicidal assaults on the Autobots." He went back to a wall and lean on it, watching Misfire, who was just looking at the gun. Misfire snap out of his trance and went back to the firing range and started firing again, missing the targets completely.

This kept up, varying in degrees of enjoyment to everyone who decided to watch, except for Dead End, who just decided to watch the whole sad state of affairs with his 'I really don't cared' look. Each shot, Misfire grimaced grew wider. Soon, he started cursing at every shot along. A little while longer, it boiled down to just gibberish that wouldn't be intelligible to any language except for some obscure, archaic who just figure what language was.

After about a whole megacycle of just firing, Misfire actually manage to hit something!

It was a glancing blow.

That didn't matter, though. Misfire was cheering loud and hard, dancing and shouting all kinds of weird things like "Who's bad? I'm bad." and "I've got the TOUCH!" Dead End somehow manage to keep the same look throughout the event, maybe having his mouth go higher by a fraction of a inch, but still not going anywhere close to a smile.

Having showboated enough, Misfire decided to head back to the armory, a job well done in his opinion. A probably not ever close to injure bot was a good day in his opinion. Soon, he will be taking heads off with the gun.

Dead End follow Misfire, making sure he wasn't going to be using any other guns, specifically the missile launcher. Only Primus knows what damage he could cause if he got his hands on one of those. Misfire put the gun back in its rightful place. Dead End decided to ask a question.

"When exactly is you appointment he ask?" That may seem like a odd question until you realized that Misfire was also having therapy. Turns out, getting brutally torture and accidentally killing your allies can really mess up your psyche.

"I don't have one today. Hook's going to be too busy with the injure guys coming in for a session," he answered. "Besides, I still don't get why I'm having them in the first place. I mean, I'm just fine. There's nothing wrong with me." That's what he always said, but he's not fooling everybody. After that particular incident with Megatron, Misfire was pretty adamant about making sure no one touches him, not even medics. "Also, why the heck is Hook a therapist. I mean, I just don't get it."

"Because, we don't have a official therapist and out of all the medics we have, Hook is definitely the most stable of them." Dead End answer.

"Okay, good point, but still, Hook! The guy is way too egotistical for his own good." Well, he had a point there. Hook was a bit of a egotist.

"Flatline is a individual who like to experiment people, Scalpel loves to take things apart, and Scavenger needs therapy himself. Compare Hook to those three and I said you're getting off easy, unless of course you want to die. If you do, I head Scalpel looking for a fresh corpse." Dead End said, making several good points in that monotone voice of his. One must wonder if it ever shows emotion besides boredom and melancholy.

"That's fine. I'm just fine with Hook, even if he ignores most of the things I said." Misfire said. "So, how long before the guys get here?" he asked.

"I'm guessing less than megacycle by now."

"Alright. I'm going to go hang out somewhere. Try not to need my help," Misfire said, ending the conversation and exiting the firing range. Dead End follow suit, deciding to hang around the command area and see if he could get any more work done.