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Poison Pen	By : nightfire69 Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 983 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Poison Pen
- 1
Feedback: Yes
Warnings: The poetry is dark and somewhat violent (Because I wanted the poem to have that EMO/ Gothy feel to it).
Notes: This story was inspired by a Transformer’s fan fic titled Elegy by Sir Raptor
Disclaimer: I don’t own Dirge, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Megatron, or Transformers, I do own Nightfire.

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Bleed for me. Just this once.
Let the blood wash over the white rose petals,
Till the rose turns black.
For the hate I want to give you.

His shift was over for the evening and he wanted to relax in one of the recrooms on base. Walking in, Dirge realized that he was the only one there. As he looked around the room, he noticed a datapad that was left on a table. Waking up to the table and picking up the pad, he preceded to read the short scrawl that was scribbled on it. As he read, Dirge was intrigued by the words and there inner meaning. The one thing that no one knew about him that he always had a fondness for poetry and the poet of this work had an understanding that Dirge could relate to; let alone appreciate. Then there was something in this poem’s words that, to Dirge, was far deeper than it appeared to be.

To him, the words conveyed a feeling of darkness. ‘But a darkness of what?’ he wondered to himself. It wasn’t just simple hatred; that was for sure. Also this bit of poetry felt incomplete. As if this poem was lightly hinting to him that the hate described in the datapad before his optics was a veil that was hiding the truth from him. And he wanted answers. So grabbing an energon cube from the dispenser; Dirge sat down at the table and tried to decipher the script’s inner meaning and the mind behind the intriguing verse. Dirge snickered quietly and smiled to himself the more he read and reread the poem. He was doing something that was rare for him and that was enjoying himself.

‘What are you trying to say my mysterious writer, hmm?’ thought Dirge as he took a sip of energon. ‘Who do you hate and why? And most importantly my mystery poet, who are you and why do your words intrigue me so?’

While Dirge was deep in thought, Thundercracker walks in to see a very odd site. A quietly snickering Dirge with a light happy-go-lucky smile on his face. Thundercracker observed the conehead seeker in a cross between curiosity and oddball amusement. Looking at this, Thundercracker thought to himself, ‘What the hell? He’s smiling. That’s a look I’ve never seen him have before. Wait till I tell Skywarp. He would fry a circuit board in hysterics when he hears this.’ Walking up to the energon dispenser, Thundercracker grabbed himself a cube and cleared his throat to get Dirge’s attention. “Ahem, hay Dirge. How are you?”

Looking up from the datapad, he sees Thundercracker standing by the dispenser. Getting up from the table, with datapad in hand, Dirge finished his cube. While walking towards the door; he tosses the empty cube in the trash bin. “I’m fine, just fine.” He said as he walked passed Thundercracker and towards his quarters.

***************************************************

Bind me and blind me with silken ribbons of black.
Cut me with a black rose’s thorns.
Expose me naked to the truth.
Letting my blood spill quietly in front of the masses.
I hide the truth and no one ever sees.
Because of these things,
I hate you.

Two days have passed since Dirge read the first poem from the data pad’s mysterious writer. With no sign of the writer or a new datapad with a poem on it, he was starting to feel that the datapad he did fined was just a fluke. Fluke or not, Dirge was wishing to read more of the poet’s dark words and even darker thoughts. As he walked toward his quarters, something caught the corner of is optics lying in the hall. Walking towards the object and picking the item up, he quickly realized that it was another unclaimed datapad. Looking to see if anything was on it and praying that it was another poem, he started reading it. As if Primus himself came down and thrown his blessings upon him; Dirge was graced with another poem written in the style of the mysterious writer.

‘Yes!’ thought Dirge as he started to read the poem to himself. As he read, the more he started to understand the poem from the day before. But this bit of verse was darker than the last and filled with imagery of pain and humiliation. As he ended up with one questioned answered, it seemed two more questions took its place. ‘Who do you hate and why would you want to suffer so?’ thought Dirge as he reread the poem again a few more times. He was thinking of who the poet might be. As he went through possible persons on the top of his head; but his mind he kept running into a seemingly vast mental wall when it came to people he new on base that would write something like this.

As he thought, the more headachy and exhausted he became. Knowing that he had a long day and he was going to have another long one tomorrow, he decided it would be easier on him if he thought of who the writer might be at a later time. So taking the data pad with him; Dirge walked to his quarters for a good night’s recharge.

****************************************************

I am trapped and you are the one who has trapped me.
How can I escape from you?
Shall I gnaw through the ropes?
Ripping may teeth out.

Or shall I brake my the bones in my hands and feet;
To escape the binging chains.
How can I even put myself down to end my misery?
If you won’t let me.
I can’t say or feel this way enough.
I HATE YOU!

It was a long week, to long. ‘I need a vacation.’ Dirge thought to himself as he walked down the hall towards his work station. ‘Maybe a long vacation down a black hole. Yep, that sounds like a good idea. I would be crushed into a tiny point of infinite density. That way they can’t find me and I would be to damn heavy to move…’ Before he could finish he’s thoughts, Dirge slammed into something or to be precise, someone. “Hay! Watch where you’re going!” he snapped as various papers and datapads started flying all over the place.

“Sorry!” the fem snapped at him as she was trying to grab the scattered papers that where thrown about, “I’m in a rush here and if you don’t mind I got a status report that Megatron wants ASAP and I have to time to waste with you!”

Then grabbing some of the fallen papers and handing them to her, “Fine! Here are your stupid papers!”

“Fine then!” she snapped as she ripped the papers away from Dirge’s hands and ran back down the hall.

As Dirge started to pick him self off the floor he noticed that she accidentally left a datapads behind. Starting to read it he quickly realized that it was another poem. As he read the deep disturbing verse, Dirge put two and two together. ‘So she’s the one who has been writing all the poems. It’s starting to make since now, but who in the universe does she hate so much?”

Then looking at his internal chronometer, he realized that was going to be late to getting to his work station. ‘I’ll give this and the other pads back to her latter.’ Dirge thought as he quickly ran to work.

***************************************************

I hate you more than anyone could ever comprehend.
Let me drown in you in my blood.
Let me scar you with my nails.
Let me wound you with my teeth.
Let me do anything I wish to you.
Because of all these things,
I hate you.
More than because of this,
I hate myself.

Why do I hate you so?
Simply because…

For some miraculous fluke or miracle, Dirge had the rest of the afternoon off. He was beyond more than thankful for it. It gave him the chance to gather all of the datapads of poetry that he’s found over the last few days and give them back to her. Walking up to her quarters, with datapads in hand, Dirge gave a huge sigh of relief as he knocked on her door. ‘Maybe now I can find out who she hates so blasted much.’

Seeing the door opening, Dirge saw the fem in question. “Oh, hi Dirge. I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure,” he replayed as he looked at her. She was one of a small few Decepticons who could transform into an animal with actual hair, fur, or organic skin. She had black hair, matching metal skin and emerald green optics; and her alt. mode was that of an earthling horse if Dirge could remember right.

“May I ask for the visit?” she asked him quite bluntly which caused him to remember the datapads in his hands.

“Um, I think these belong to you,” said Dirge as he was stumbling on the words as if he was embarrassed about it, “I found the first one in one of the recrooms, and the second one the floor in one of the halls and the last one you dropped earlier to day. So I figured that you might want to have them back, um…forgive me, but I can’t seem to remember your name.”

“It’s Nightfire;” She said as she grabbed the datapads, “and thank you for bringing them back to me.”

“Your welcome.” He said as he noticed datapad fall from her desk onto the floor. Picking up the datapad and reading it he then asked her, “Who is it?”

Putting down the pads, she then turned to him and asked, “Who, who?”

“The person you seem to hate so much that you write about in your poetry?” he said waving the datapad with her latest poem on it.

Nightfire then sighed and said to Dirge, “It’s kind of complicated and the poem that you’re holding is incomplete. I was working on it when you stopped by and if you let me finish it, you will get all your answers.”

Handing her the datapad, Dirge sees her write the last of the poem. When she finishes, Nightfire hands the datapad back to him. As he reads the last verse Dirge then fully understands what Nightfire was trying to say. As she looks at him, she sees Dirge walking up to her, put down the datapad and Dirge proceeds to give Nightfire a kiss.

I love you…

Dirge.
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