Title: This Kind of Revolutionary
Continuity: G1 Cartoon
Characters: Swindle
Rating: PG
Genre: Adventure
Warnings: Violence
Word Count: +400
Summary: A look at what sort of political dissidence Swindle used to get up to before Megatron and Shockwave put him a filing cabinet.
Swindle leaned back. He could have been lounging in the opulence of a Golden Era gilded casino for all the concern he showed. Swindle was, however, cooped up in a tiny solitary confinement cell, so his casual leaning was actually quite uncomfortable. He never tried anything entirely without profit, though, and his nonchalant posture alarmed the guards. These days, Swindle took his earnings where he could.
The interrogator had disabled his chronometer, but Swindle would have been a sorry fellow if he could not measure time without it. He needed to know how the compound interest was racketing up on his loan shark ventures, after all. The interrogator would return soon. There was something distinctly off about that fellow, like he was not operating in his proper element. Then again, he was a helicopter, so there was something off about him, period.
Inside, Swindle was worried. He had not the bravery or stupidity of the others in his revolutionary cell. They had never been captured this long before, and the interrogator claimed that Blast Off had already broken. He was lying. Swindle could see a lie, but he could also see that it would soon be true, if he did not break before the shuttle did. In many ways, Swindle wanted to break. This was taking strength that he did not have. One thing kept him motivated, and that was the sure knowledge that they would kill him once he confessed. He had done and dared too much. Money would not follow a dead man to the grave, not even this man.
The interrogator was late. Swindle waited. Would the interrogator offer release this time? Would Swindle be greedy enough to take it? The door flung inward, and Swindle cringed in advance, falling on his aft. Onslaught stood there, the interrogator at his side. Swindle rubbed his head, disbelieving. He was the master of glib, and he was at a loss for words. For a brief moment, there was worship in his optics. The boss had come for him! He had really done it!
But Swindle was not that kind of revolutionary, one to idolise his leader past sanity. Onslaught offered a hand, and Swindle snatched it, getting to his feet. He tilted his head a bit to the side, questioning Onslaught's choice of travelling companion. Onslaught muttered, words clipped, "In due time." Louder, he demanded of the interrogator, "Blast Off next."
Swindle kept up after them as they rushed off to the next cell, but he did pause to take a rifle from a fallen guard. For good measure, he kicked the fellow and declared, "I'll take that. You won't need it when the revolution comes." Swindle was this kind of revolutionary, though.
The End
Author's Note: This is an old fanfic of mine, written 2006-12-07, and mostly just tossed up here to collect my fanfics in one place.
