Title: Swindle the giant alien robot piñata
Rating: PG for a tiny bit of combat and some Cybertronian swearing.
Warnings: implied death of an unnamed human.
Disclaimer: named characters not mine, just playing in the sandbox.
Characters: Swindle and Fireflight, with Blast Off and Brawl.
Beta: The wonderful naboru_narluin on LJ
Notes: From the 28 Combaticons meme. Prompt claimed by mdperera on LJ: Greedy with Swindle and Fireflight.
Swindle grabbed another box of energon goodies, and tried to find a compartment on his root mode that wasn't already full.
It was one of those moments, the kind where you should stop what you're doing right now and get the slag out of there while you still can. Or, in about a breem, you're going to very seriously regret it.
But you just can't help yourself.
And, as each astrosecond passes, you sink deeper into the slag. And you know - on a level informed by experience and intuition - that it's already too late. You're not getting out of this lightly. But you haven't been caught yet, so a small part of your cortex tells you 'it's OK, just keep going, you've got time'.
You haven't.
"Hey!"
Swindle ducked behind a stack of boxes. It wasn't the 'put your hands in the air and face the wall' he'd been expecting, but his innards lurched regardless; even if he could talk his way out of this, Onslaught would certainly have something to say about it later.
He could hear the whine of an idling jet engine, had seen a flash of wing, a smear of red paintwork. One of the Aerialbots. OK, it could have been worse...
"I know you're in there."
But which Aerialbot? Swindle kicked his processor into action, raking through old mission logs and briefing files. If only he could remember their names...
"Are you even listening?" The voice was impatient. "And how'd you get in here anyway?"
Swindle thought back to the highly convenient gap in the Autobots' defences; the short lull in the fighting; his split-astrosecond decision to slip away from the battle - through the handy hole in Wheeljack's nasty electrified fence - and straight into that very tempting plain white warehouse.
On reflection, not the wisest of moves.
The Aerialbot came closer, heavy footsteps on the concrete floor. Frag frag frag, what were they called!
"Seriously, I know you're there. No use pretending I don't."
"I wasn't," Swindle replied. He ripped the lid off the next box of energon treats and opened his chest plates just a fraction. They'd fit in here, right? If he slid them in one at a time and squeezed his primary fuel pipe up against his laser core...
"Sure you were," the Aerialbot said. "Now, you gonna come out, or am I gonna have to come in after you?"
Swindle's internal comms crackled. "Onslaught to Combaticons, retreat has been sounded. Rendezvous at HQ in five breems. Repeat, HQ, five breems."
"You, uh, you don't have to..." Swindle said. He shoved the last of the individually wrapped treats in through the gap, and closed his chest plates. It took a bit of shoving, but finally, the latch clicked home. He sent a quick "Pick me up, you fragger!" to Blast Off, with his coordinates. Blast Off didn't respond, but that was no indication that he hadn't heard.
Swindle got up carefully. He couldn't transform like this; slag, he felt full. Aloud, he said, "I'm coming out!"
The Aerialbot had his arms crossed and his optics narrowed. Cocky thing, he hadn't even aimed his gun. He looked as though he was about to start tapping his foot.
"Hello there." Swindle emerged. He gave the 'bot a flash of his winning smile, and hefted his scatter blaster casually on his shoulder.
"What are you doing in here?" The flier demanded. "You shouldn't be in here. This is restricted, and anyway, you're a Decepticon, you shouldn't be on base at all. What are you up to?"
It took a moment for Swindle to change mental gear, but in that moment an idea had begun to blossom. His grin widened. "If it's restricted, that's two of us who shouldn't be here then, isn't it? Anyway, you look like a mech who wouldn't waste a good opportunity."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The 'bot's optics narrowed further, and he seemed to remember that he was armed. Finally, Swindle's processor gave up the goods. Aerialbot Designation: Fireflight; not a close-combat mech, but he carried a photon displacer and had a decent aim. The file on him wasn't that full – he was a new build, young and inexperienced - but apparently his team referred to him as Flighty, and it was apt.
"You're a sophisticated mech, I can tell." Swindle sat down on a crate - which creaked, but thankfully didn't break - and kept his blaster rested on his shoulder. "Focused, determined, the kind of 'bot another mech can rely on."
"Uh..."
"So," Swindle continued before the Autobot could reply. "The humans, right. I like them. They're enterprising, entrepreneurial, got a lot of admirable qualities." And a lot of money. He raised a supra-optical ridge. "You like them too, right?"
"Uh, sure," Fireflight said. "I like humans." He looked off balance, perplexed, as though this encounter really wasn't going the way he'd expected. And his photon displacer still wasn't pointing at Swindle. Good.
He could only hope the 'bot hadn't alerted the others to his presence. Blast Off had better be on his way.
"So, right, I've got these human friends. But command? They won't let me talk to them. Not allowed to have human friends." He huffed, slumping a little, as though this was the worst thing since the end of the Golden Age.
"Well..."
"You see, I've got this piece of real estate, big load of buildings, lots of rooms, and I've got no use for it. I mean, how much space do I need? Not a lot, I can tell you. But my human friends? They need a safe place to stay. Looks like the perfect match, right?"
Fireflight gave him a look. "Right?"
"Exactly!" Swindle replied, ignoring the incredulity in Fireflight's tone. The 'bot was hardly the sharpest tool in the box, but he obviously wasn't stupid. Swindle sent out another quick pulse to the shuttle. "Hurry up, Blast Off, get your massive purple aft down here..."
This time, he got a response. "Don't be so impatient." Swindle tried not to grin, his getaway ride was on the way.
The Aerialbot shook his head, slowly, and went to speak, but Swindle cut him off.
"You see my predicament. My human friends need what I've got to offer. Without it, they'll be out in the cold, and no one wants that. What I need is someone to send a message. I'd do it myself, but Megatron… Just one quick message, that's all."
It was true. His human go-between had vanished in mysterious circumstances a few months before, after accidentally patting Blast Off on the foot. Since then, his squishy associates had very gently yet decisively drifted away. Direct contact with his 'friends' wasn't advisable, due to the interest they attracted from such groups as the FBI, the CIA and MI5.
Swindle injected a little sentimental sap into his voice. "I just want my human friends to be safe, you can understand that, right, being an Autobot and all?"
"Well sure, but-"
"Great!" Swindle slipped a tiny datacard out of a slot on his arm, and tossed it over. Fireflight caught it, apparently by reflex rather than conscious intent. "That's got the phone number of their agent in Johannesburg, just tell him to call me on my private comm line. He's got the frequency."
"I-"
"This is really going to help some humans, you know that? They'll get a safe place to live and work, and it's all thanks to you." Swindle flashed that salesman's grin again and stood, stiffly. The scent of warm rubber drifted up through his vents; his primary fuel pipe was perhaps a little too close to his laser core. Good job Blast Off was almost here...
The wall beside him glowed white for one dazzling astrosecond, then dissolved in a shower of melted brick and scorched stucco.
"Hands in the air, Autodolt!" Brawl clambered through the hole, weapon raised. Fireflight snarled, aiming his own pistol, and an alarm began to wail. Swindle bent to grab a few more boxes of energon treats.
"No time for that," Blast Off snapped, his voice ringing a little too loud from his alt mode. "Get over here!"
Fireflight dove behind a pile of boxes, shooting. Brawl ducked and grabbed Swindle by the arm. "Come on, you stupid fragger!"
"But the field rations!" Swindle almost wailed.
Brawl kicked him squarely on the aft, propelling him through the hole in the wall. His chestplates creaked, threatening to burst open, and he wrapped his arms around his abdomen, hugging himself tightly. Can't let go of the energon treats, got to hold on, one more step. Brawl was behind him, falling back stage by stage, firing all the way.
Swindle fell into the shuttle and crawled over to the rear wall, clinging to the cargo netting. He sighed, thank Sigma neither Onslaught nor Vortex were around. Brawl leapt aboard, the door hissing shut behind him, and they were airborne.
"Frag." Swindle shook his head, a giddy laugh threatening to spill from his vocaliser. "That was close."
"Close?" Blast Off snarled. "They're still shooting! And Silverbolt is in pursuit."
Swindle patted the floor beside him – which, due to their angle of ascent, was currently more like the wall. "Good job he's scared of heights then, isn't it?"
"Stop that!" Blast Off snapped.
"You almost got us slagged," Brawl huffed. He slumped beside Swindle and smacked him on the shoulder. To Swindle's dismay, the blow reverberated through him and his chest plates flew open, letting spill a flood of pilfered field rations.
Brawl's visor lit up. "Hey Blast Off, you see this? When I hit Swindle, energon treats come out!"
Blast Off laughed. "Then hit him again."