If there was one thing Swindle hated about his job, it was periodically having to be on the run. But weapons and cranky customers didn't mix, and when you got uppity moralizing Autobots into the mix, well...
Swindle did have this little thought in the back of his processor, this unseemly feeling that one day this unfortunate hazard of his job would be the end if him. He usually liked to drown that thought in high-grade and a review of his account. Watching the incredibly long trail of numbers dance in front of his optics was surprisingly soothing. Usually got his system slipping right into a peaceful recharge.
Well, ducking in an abandoned warehouse listening to the clanking footfalls of some space pirates he'd, ahem, swindled out of their loot as they searched the area for him, that worry came back as less of small irritation and more as a paralytic, overtaking, singular reality.
Frag. He'd thought they'd be half way to Telos 3 before they figured it out. Guess they were smarter than they looked...
He used his modified scanners to check for spark signatures. Frag. They had some sort of cloaks. FragfragFRAG…
He was gonna die.
Oh there were times when he'd come mighty close in the past, but, shit, he was gonna fucking die.
They were itching to taunt him, he could feel it, but they were horrifyingly silent. Like they were huntinghim, like a turbofox in a hole...
Calm down Swindle. He growled to himself. Get a fucking grip, you twitchy idiot. The minute you think like prey, you become prey. He vented and took a quick peek over the edge of the junk he was hiding behind.
Nothing. Not a biolight to be found...Fuck, they had biolight dimmers, didn't they? Fuck, no. No no no no...
GET A GRIP YOU FUCKING MORON! He vented and ex-vented until the cycles were normal, and then quiet.
The footfalls were mysteriously silent. Not a glimmer of cybernetic life to be seen. Nothing on his scanners...
Maybe...maybe they were...gone?
Or maybe they have stealth tech. He couldn't suppress the quiet whimper that escaped his vocalize. They most likely did. It really just depended on how good it was...
Goddammit, you imbecile, the first rule of arms dealing: always know what your customers are packing! He wanted to kick himself. But he'd just thought it'd be a simple deal, a simple con...
ah, they looked so fucking stupid, not even knowing about the war...although selling them the "Autobot Matrix of Leadership" might have been just a tad too much...
He ex-vented. He had to move. He knew he had to. He had to get back to his ship. If he got back to his ship, he had a chance...
Oh Primus...they were gonna take him apart. He'd heard stories of what pirates did to people who crossed them...fuck, they'd cut off his legs and gouge out his optics and...and...what if they sold him? Oh fuck, no, what if they sold him to slavers?
It took everything he had to suppress the cry that welled up in his vocalizer. The irony was not lost on him, the mech who'd sell anything being sold in the end...but at the moment, it didn't do anything in the face of the processor-freezing horror at the idea.
Swindle. he took in another deep vent. Swindle, baby...you gotta move...you can't worry about that stuff right now... He got on his servos and knees and glanced out from the side of the stuff he was using as cover. He pulled him armor tight against his protoform, attempting to quiet his rattling plating; he pulled it so close it almost ached.
And who'd even miss him?
That thought struck him stone cold still.
Who'd even care if he was fucking dead? Or if he was sold or tortured or...
No one. That's who.
Maybe some of his clients, but he doubted they'd be too broken up about it.
Fuck, why did he have to think of all this stuff now?
Maybe because it was the end and he knew it...
NO! he snapped at himself. No no, this isn't the end...you've got a fighting chance...
He crawled to the next nearest pile of trash and crates. Moving slowly, audials open and searching for any sign of life besides himself.
Not a sound.
He ex-vented. Maybe they really had gone...
Lockdown'd miss you. He thought suddenly.
That was an idea he wasn't prepared for.
He'd at least miss your pretty wet valve if nothing else... He laughed softly to himself. Well, at least it was something.
A sharp shooting pain overtook his right leg. He yelped as he was suddenly dragged from behind the crates. His fingers dug into the floor and made little scuff marks on the metal as he was lifted by his leg into the air. He swung helplessly by his ankle joint, limbs flailing. He looked about frantically to see who or what had grabbed him and came face plate to face plate with one of the space pirate. The captain of the space pirates, to be precise.
He gulped. Fuck...
He was dead.
So fucking dead.
"H-hey there, my good mech." He stuttered, forcing a smile. "Is th-there something I can help you with this fine evening?"
The space pirate chortled. "Look what I found, lads." he gave Swindle a shake. "The little rat hiding in his little hole."
Swindle cringed. "I-is there some problem with the merchandise? Because I usually don't do refunds, but I can perhaps give you an equivalent exchHA-" The pirate squeezed his joint between his enormous servos and he squealed, reaching uselessly for his throbbing pede and the mech's assaulting digits.
The pirate captain chucked. "Oh yeah, we'll be getting compensated alright." He grabbed Swindle's leg in his servo and began crushing it, slowly. Swindle howled and thrashed, optic fluid dripping down his faceplate and rolling off of the top of his helm. He flinched as the pirate brought him even closer to his grotesque, scarred visage. "We'll be taking a refund out of your wretched, lying chassis."
The rest of the pirates had long since gathered around their captain, and laughed along with him at Swindle's misfortune.
Swindle gasped, the pain making his optics fill with bits of feedback. "hey-y look, I've got a lotta cash and weapons back on my ship, if you'll just-" The pirate compressed his leg again and he wailed.
The captain laughed. "I don't want your money, I WANT YOU DEAD" He giggled and patted Swindle's faceplate. "Aw, hey you know, if we're feeling real generous, we'll put you back together again." He grinned, jagged denta glimmering purple from Swindle's terrified, widened optics. "You're not a bad looking little piece of trash. I'm sure someone'd be willing to pay a decent price for you..."
Swindle sobbed, shaking his helm. "N-no…please..."
He had really wished he'd kept his cool, but he knew it didn't matter...he was their plaything now and his fate wasn't going to be pretty, regardless of what he did...
The pirate captain sneered. "Pathetic." He laughed again and the crew joined in.
"Don't rip him apart too quickly." Said one of his crewmen. "I want a go at 'em!"
"Me too!" Called out a third, brandishing his clawed digits.
The captain opened his intake to speak again and was cut off by his own gasping. He released Swindle, who fell to the ground with a CLANG and scurried away immediately. He looked back to catch a glimpse of what caused the pirate's rasping and saw a huge blade sticking out of the middle of his chest.
The pirate captain gave one further strangled bit of static and gruesome, liquid-filled venting before his lights flickered and he fell to the floor, dead.
The crew fell into an abrupt, terrified silence.
The mech that had put the blade in the pirate walked casually up to his corpse and pulled it out, kicking the lifeless frame aside, whistling.
Swindle couldn't believe his optics.
It was Lockdown. Fucking honest-to-Primus Lockdown.
He'd never been so happy to see that mangy bastard in all his life.
Lockdown laughed his stupid, throaty laugh. "Sorry boys." He shot Swindle a grin. "He's taken."
Piece of shit. Swindle thought to himself, grinning from audial to audial.
The rest of the pirates had readied their weapons, but none of them seemed exactly thrilled to be facing the mech that'd just put a sword in their leader's back before he could even raise a digit.
Lockdown may have been a showy bastard, but he could also be energon-chillingly efficent. By the time most of them had even worked up the courage to face him he'd downed three of them.
They may have been bigger, but he was a hell of a lot faster. And with that sword in one hand and a hook on the other limb, he was a fucking killing machine.
He blinded the fourth with his hook before gutting him and throwing him into his fellow crewmates. He decapitated the next one closest to him and slashed another's neck cables out with his lethal prosthetic before sending the gurgling thing to it's grave.
The last two tried to run. He activated some blasters on his arm shot them nonchalantly in the backs, smiling as he did it.
"Fuck, Lockdown." Swindle shook his helm. "Sometimes you really fucking scare me, you know that?"
Lockdown chuckled. "Be thankful you're on my good side, then..."
Swindle surveyed the scene, still trying to process the prior events. "You know, they were probably worth more alive."
Lockdown growled. "I'm sending a message."
Swindle looked at him confused. "A message? To who?"
Lockdown motioned with his helm. "Everyone."
"And the message?" Swindle raised an optic ridge.
"Anyone fucks with you, they die."
Swindle didn't know how to respond to that. He was aware after a nano-klick that his intake was hanging opened. He shut it abruptly.
"Well..." he managed, resetting his vocalizer a couple of times. "that...erm..."
Lockdown turned to leave.
"Hey, wait a kli-" Swindle tried to follow him, but as soon as he put pressure on his leg, he cried out in pain and collapsed.
Lockdown subspaced his sword immediately and returned to Swindle's position. "What's the problem?"
Swindle motioned to limb. "My leg seems to be a little...ahem...crushed at the moment..." His lip plates twisted with contempt as he shot a glance to the pirate captain's corpse. "Animal..."
Lockdown kneeled. He examined the leg. Swindle winced and hissed when he touched it. "Quit your whining." Lockdown snorted.
"It fucking hurts, you dick." He snapped. "It's not like a dent or something, this leg is fucking useless now." He whimpered. "Fuck..."
Lockdown sighed and reached down, sliding his arm under the slightly smaller mech's. He eased Swindle to his working pede and bore his weight for the other one. Swindle bit his lip plate, pained moans still finding their way through as he hopped ridiculously on his one operational limb.
"H-hey...um..." he adjusted his vocalizer. "Thank you...Lockdown..."
"Yeah, whatever." Lockdown said, pulling Swindle along, surprisingly gently. "Let's just get you back to your ship, you moron."
"Hey!" Swindle protested. "I'm not a..." he sighed. "Ok, this was kind of a stupid plan."
"What'd you do? sell them Megatron's fusion cannon or something?"
"The Matrix." he muttered, smiling wryly.
Lockdown roared with laughter. "You dumbass." He shook his helm. "You absurd, shameless, brazen dumbass..."
Swindle laughed softly. "Yeah, it was pretty good, wasn't it?"
"Insane is more like it." Lockdown cackled. "I mean, the sheer audacity..."
Swindle sighed. "Yeah, well, it almost got me killed so I don't think I'll be selling Autobot relics to space pirates again anytime soon..."
Lockdown patted his back with the hand of his supporting arm. "Well, at least you gave it a shot."
Swindle grinned. "Yeah, yeah, had to try it at least once, you know?"
Lockdown chuckled. "I mean, good fuck, what'd you even use?"
A devious look crossed Swindle's face. "A box of spare parts with a scraplet head welded to the center."
Lockdown doubled over with laughter. They both had to stop walking while he got his vent cycles back to normal. "GOOD FUCKING PRIMUS SWINDLE!"
Swindle laughed too. "Well I mean, you know, it was round-ish and I sorta got it to light up.."
Lockdown wiped some fluid from the corner of his optic. He grinned. "Well, at least things are never dull with you around, you crazy bastard..." He digressed into fit of giggling. Swindle had never heard Lockdown giggle before—it was both disturbing and adorable.
Lockdown finally managed to stop. He raised his hook. "Ok, I want you to do me a favor, just one small favor for saving your aft."
Oh great. There were strings attached. Swindle sighed. Not that he was surprised of course, but still..."Name your price."
Lockdown guffawed. "Ok, you have to tell me exactly how this deal went how, seriously, don't leave a fucking thing out, PrimUS HELP ME" He gasped, trying to vent through all the laughing.
Swindle's optics lit up. That was probably the best thing he'd ever had to pay anyone. He adjusted his vocalizer, half shuttered his optics, and waved his servo around dramatically. "Ok, so I was just going along, minding my own business when suddenly my scanners go crazy, so I adjust the screen and see this ridiculous hunk of junk so old I thought Prima himself had come back from the Well and was gallivanting across the galaxy in his old ride..."
*****
And that's the show!~
Yes I used the imaging of the scraplets from TFP. Why? *Cave Johnson voice* Why NOT?!
Also yes, yes, any reason for Lockdown to be protective of Swindle is a good reason to write a fanfic IMHO…