The Authoress

Chapter 9: Dom-Dom the Decepticon!

Chapter 9: Dom-Dom the Decepticon!

( I have redone some of this chapter, for those that have read it before I edited it, sorry I burned your eyes with my horrible writing)

Domi was by no chance a happy femme right now, quite the opposite in fact.

"Stupid fucking pile of triangles" Starscream was always mucking things up. She would try to do something, Starscream would ruin it. He'd just come waltzing in with that stupid 'all holier than thou' smile and fuck her whole day up!

Now... Domi was a very nice, fun person.

BUT NOT WHEN A STUPID PILE OF CHA-CHA HEEL WEARING TRIANGLES CAME INTO IT!

Domi seethed on the inside, she didn't like being angry, she didn't like being a robot or being in this stupid fandom! This was Corvin's domain, not hers.

Oh, why oh why couldn't she have been thrown into another fandom? Sherlock, Merlin, Free, she wasn't picky. But no, the bitch known as Fate just had to throw her into this one! The one she could not stand!

Domi took in a deep vent, calming her enraged frame before proceeding down the halls of the Nemesis. She was heading to the training room to vent her anger of some dummies rather than the silver robots that walked around in numbers. What were they called? Beamicons? Whatever.

Reaching the room she poked a button that made the door whoosh back to let her enter. The room was spacious and colored dull silver. A shooting range stood off in one corner while several hitting dummies stood on the other side. Several of the small silver robots were cluttered around the training mats, sparring and shooting the targets... missing by a good foot...

Domi raised an optical ridge; this was how they trained their warriors? These mechs couldn't shoot the target from three feet away! Domi made a misbelieving sound. She pitied these robots, these stupid, blind robots that probably couldn't tell a screw from a hammer. Domi made her way over to the firing range, which was closed off from the rest of the room for safety. She opened the soundproof door and walking in before closing it behind her and walking to one of the empty stalls. Optics followed her every movement, from the way she her body swayed with each step or how her arms moved. Many stopped shooting, the sight of a femme too enticing to ignore.

Most of them had never even seen a real living femme, besides that Autobot femme but no one ever got a real good look without getting decked in the face, but know what they looked like due to holovids that the older drones had shown them... they were a lot prettier in real life, especially when they weren't trying to kill you.

Domi picked up an Ion Blaster-not that she knew what the hell it was called- and took aim. She fired multiple times, her shots missing the target by a few inches. Domi frowned, damn it. She didn't know how to do this! She was a fashion designer! Not a sniper! She was supposed to work with cloth and needles, not guns and swords. Domi sighed and adjusted her grip, bringing the gun back up and firing.

Wondering why she was using a gun? Well, she hadn't exactly learned how to transform yet. It was something she just didn't want to do. It would be like accepting her condition, and she didn't want to.

Her shots seemed to inch closer to target until it clipped the side, then another line in. She continued, venting her anger on the unexceeding target, planting holes all through it, until it was a covered, well almost covered. The inside rings only had a few holes in them, while the bull's-eye was untouched. This only served to irritate Domi further as she let out all her frustration that had built up over the past few weeks from not being able to see her trine to Starscream and his leering. Her optics flared a bright red as she exhaled and shot once more.