Author's Notes: Thanks to okami_myrrhibis for betaing
Smokescreen was not happy with facing Swindle. There was nothing but bad energon between them and this little attempt at converting the Combaticons to the Autobot side wouldn't help any. While Swindle was opportunistic and self-serving, he was also stubborn and vengeful, especially toward those who had personally wronged him. Smokescreen had argued this to Jazz, explained that he was the last mech Swindle would ever speak with, and yet, the Special Ops captain hadn't backed down.
He approached the door cautiously, then cleared his vents softly and steeled himself before walking in purposefully. No longer was he Smokescreen the smuggler, thief, and con artist. He was Smokescreen the Autobot. Hopefully Swindle bought the con.
"Swindle. The Autobots have an offer for you. Are you willing to listen?" he asked as he sat in the chair opposite his former partner.
Unlike the other members of his team, Swindle had not raged or fought against the restraints chaining him down. He's sat there patiently waiting to see just who the Autobots would send in to negotiate with him. A good businessmech never let impatience show or give away emotional responses in an uncertain situation.
Despite his ability to compartmentalize and appear unconcerned, Swindle was not prepared for the burn of emotion that flared through him when Smokescreen of all mechs walked in the door. Hatred, anger, outrage; those were easy enough to identify. The other confusing tangle of emotions was harder to label and Swindle shoved it down as far as it would go as he regarded his former partner with inscrutable optics.
"I can't believe they'd send you of all mechs to talk to me, Smokey. But hey, it's not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon so let's hear your...offer." The small Decepticon's lips curled up into a smile that never reached his optics as he lounged there in his chair, seemingly relaxed and unconcerned. The predatory gleam in his optics and the way they never left Smokescreen was the only indication that the Combaticon was poised and ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness.
Smokescreen's doorwings remained high and relaxed behind him. Unlike others of his body type, he betrayed no emotion with them, but his cooling fans did slow almost imperceptibly at the look Swindle gave him. As good as he was he wasn't fully prepared for this. He doubted he ever would be.
"You know the drill in these situations Swindle. You have information that we are willing to buy from you. Intel on Megatron and Decepticon movements and in return we give you a place here. Or at least we agree to keep you safe from Megatron and the bounty hunters he's got looking for you," Smokescreen replied, all business. "Last I checked, he was offering ten thousand credits for you and your team. More if you're brought in alive. You know that with those prices, you're future is looking pretty bleak."
The Autobot sat back in his chair and folded his hands on the table casually.
"Only ten thousand? How insulting," Swindle scoffed and steepled his fingers across the top of the table as he continued to stare at the Autobot.
"Yes well, I'm sure he would have offered more but your pal Brawl probably brought down the pot," Smokescreen replied, his voice as flat as if he was speaking with a stranger about something totally inconsequential. "As for why me, I guess I've just always been lucky that way."
."Why did they send you, Smokescreen?" he asked quietly, optics a dark amethyst color. "I'm surprised they sent you of all mechs. Don't they know about our past? They're not afraid I'm going to try and tempt you away are they?"
Smokescreen's folded hands tightened fractionally and his optics darkened to deep cobalt in response to Swindle's question.
"And yes. They know we were connected. Send a thief to catch a thief is the reasoning I suppose." He paused for a moment and looked away, slightly in the direction of the camera. When he looked back his optics were hard. "And as for being tempted, might I point out that I'm the one with the offer, and given the present situation, you don't exactly have a lot to tempt me with.
"That's not what you used to say, Smokey," Swindle sneered with a taunting look in his optics. "Tell me, do your new friends know all about your past? How you used to be no better than me? A thief, a liar? You can take the mech out of the slums but you can't take the slums out of the mech." All pretenses at being civil dropped away as the Combaticon gave Smokescreen a hateful, venomous look. "Of course, you always were good at whoring yourself out to the highest bidder. Tell me, how's life in the Autobots treating you? Do you feel morally vindicated? Or are you still the small-time petty crook who'd sell out his own creator for the right price? I'll bet they don't even know what kind of monster they have lurking in their ranks. How vile you truly are."
Smokescreen's optics narrowed dangerously and his jaw bunched. For a moment it looked like he was going to launch himself across the table at Swindle, but instead he just stood forcefully, knocking the chair away.
"I have better things to do than this," he grumbled as he moved to the door.
"Oh yes, leave, please. You're so I good at doing that," Swindle snarled sullenly, kicking back in his chair as he glowered at Smokescreen's back.
'Don't even think about it!' Red Alert cautioned over a private comms channel. 'I've locked the door and I'm not letting you out until you're done in there.'
Smokescreen turned and glared at the camera. 'You Primus-damned spawn of a glitch! You have no right!'
'I have every right,' Red Alert replied calmly. 'Now get back to work.'
'I hate you,' Smokescreen growled.
'I think I'll survive,' Red replied dryly before closing the channel down again.
Smokescreen growled softly before reaching up and disabling the camera quickly, completely ignorant of the secondary camera that came online as he did so. Once that was completed, he picked up his chair and sat back down across from Swindle.
The Comabticon watched with dark, rebellious optics as the tactician paused at the door but didn't leave. This caused a strange stir of emotions in his spark and the Decepticon grit his dental plates with a growl.
"Look, the deal is simple," Smokescreen said in a cold and dismissive tone. "You and your team spill and survive to see another cycle or we hand your worthless hulls to Megatron. It's real simple, Swindle. Take it or leave it."
"Heh, if you think I'm going to believe a word coming out of yer vocalizer, you've got another think coming, Smokey. You betrayed us already, why the frag should I or any of my team believe you?"
"Betrayed you? I betrayed you? Only you would view the refusal to follow a megalomaniac as a betrayal. Things were fine until those glitches came into our life! And now you're happily killing Neutrals - our old colleagues! - and for what? So that Megatron can rule?" Smokescreen spoke with an angry and impassioned fervor before finally calming down. He cleared his vents loudly and when he spoke again he was calmer. "And besides, no matter how much you'd like to believe this is about you and me, it isn't. This is about a greater good. That mech you're following is a maniac. You all know it, otherwise why would you have tried to overthrow him?"
"You abandoned us!" Swindle shouted suddenly, jumping to his feet with a clatter of chains and overturned chair. "You abandoned me, Smokescreen! So go frag yourself, you spawn of a glitch. I want nothing to do with your self-righteous platitudes or attempts to make yourself feel better about what you did in the past! Bad energon tells, you slagger, and no matter how perfect a little Autobot you try and be, you and I both know you're still waiting for the perfect opportunity, that golden moment to stab them in the back so you can crawl over their bodies and move onto your next mark. Megatron might be a slagger but he's an honest slagger. He doesn't try and justify his actions with false words or lie about his intentions and dress it up to make himself look better."
Smokescreen's optics hardened and he clenched his fists as he stood slowly to face Swindle. "How dare you?" he asked in a low growl. "Why don't you look in a mirror before you accuse me of stabbing anyone in the back! You have no idea why I left! You have no idea what it took for me to make that decision!" At this point Smokescreen was practically yelling. Suddenly, he turned and slammed one hand against the wall and started to shiver as emotions started to take over.
"I never claimed or pretended to be something I'm not," Swindle declared frostily. He watched with a bitter look on his face as Smokescreen railed against him before finally punching the wall in a fit of anger. "It couldn't have been that hard, you just slagging left," came that petty reminder.
Smokescreen never turned and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than before, but no less full of emotion. "Don't you get it? If the Autobots don't get what they want they are going to turn you over to Megatron. No matter what happened between us in the past, no matter how fragging angry you can still make me ... Swindle, he is going to kill you! We're offering you a chance here! Take it and run if you want. Pit! I can get you off world if that's what you want ... just ... Swindle, please ..." In a rare show of true emotion, Smokescreen's doorwings drooped in defeat.
"So we should sell ourselves to the Autobot way, shake off the shackles of Decepticon rule only to walk into a different kind of shackle? One where you ask us to deny what's in our very nature? You'll never accept us in your ranks, Smokey. They're going to throw us in a dark hole and forget about us, which is exactly what Megatron will do if he doesn't outright kill us. I'd rather be executed than be locked up like a turbo-rat."
"I finally embrace my true nature and I'm a traitor. I finally do what I know is right and I'm a monster." Smokescreen shook his head. He slowly walked up to Swindle, far closer than would have been safe. He willingly and knowingly put himself within arms reach. "I can't help you if you don't pay them something," he said in a soft voice. "I'm not asking you to become an Autobot. I can get you off world and safe. Be a Neutral. Do whatever it is you want. Just ... are you really so angry at me that you'd chose death or an eternity in a cell just to hold onto your anger?"
Swindle watched him warily, that small frame tensing and coiling in preparation for action as he glared at the other mech. He waited until Smokescreen was close enough to touch and looked down, seemingly defeated and overwhelmed by the situation. "You can't ask me to trust you again, Smokey. Not after what you did before. I couldn't handle a betrayal like that, not again," he whispered, voice small and trembling with repressed emotion.
"I ... Swindle I know I can't ..." Smokescreen trailed off. When he spoke again his voice was dead, his optics flat. "Fine, Swindle. I've done too much to be trusted again. Fine. I understand. I hope I'm wrong about this and you live a good long time and get to appreciate your choice."
He looked to the side slightly as he opened a comm channel to the command room. 'I've done what I can, Jazz. He's not buying. Tell Red to let me the slag out of here.'
The Combaticon waited until Smokescreen had turned his attention away before springing into action. The energon cuffs fell away, their power source disrupted by the device he had built into his chassis. Swindle leapt at Smokescreen, pushing him to the ground, deliberately trying to smash those delicate and sensitive doors so as to throw the larger mech off balance.
Smokescreen was obviously losing his touch because he never saw Swindle's move until it was too late to get out of the way. He hit the ground hard under the weight of the smaller bot and he cried out in agony as his doors were pinned under him - one at a very wrong angle.
"Get off me you fragger!" Smokescreen roared as he pushed Swindle away with one hand. His other withdrew back in his arm and was replaced by a nozzle that immediately spewed black acrid smoke into Swindle's face.
The Combaticon just snarled and punched him square in the face. Smokescreen's magnetized smoke would have probably been more effective against another mech if Swindle wasn't intimately familiar with the Autobot's weaponry and didn't cart around something very similar himself. His own gyro-gun did the same general thing and the Combaticon could fight through the disorientation and his feral need to escape lent him the extra incentive he needed to get the job done!
Smokescreen's head snapped back with the punch and cracked hard against the floor. He quickly brought his hand back and grabbed at Swindle's face and neck, desperately trying to get the smaller mech off of him. Unfortunately, Swindle had always been stronger and he was even more so now, fueled as he was by desperation.
"Swin! Let me go!" Smokescreen screamed and in a last ditch effort to break free he kicked up at the Combaticon, trying to reverse their positions.
Up in the control room, Red Alert watched the interrogation in silence, but the moment Swindle made his move, Red Alert sprang into action.
"I told them this was a bad idea," he muttered. "See this is why you can't trust a Decepticon."
Without even thinking of the consequences to Smokescreen, Red Alert flooded the interrogation room with electricity.
Swindle just snarled and clawed at Smokescreen mindlessly, desperate to overpower him, to gain some semblance of the upper hand. Then Red Alert filled the room with electricity and the Combaticon screamed. His body arched upwards as the electricity flowed and sparked through them, temporarily shorting out motor functions and crashing systems until his CPU was forced to reboot in order to protect itself from data-loss. Swindle collapsed on top of the Autobot, smoke rising from his joins as his optics dimmed.
Smokescreen, pinned to the floor as he was, got the full dose of electricity. His scream was cut short as his vocalizer crackled with static and his body shook and writhed under Swindle. When he finally lay still, his armour cracked and popped with the heat and stray electricity.
Just as his systems were rebooting the door to the cell slammed open and several members of Red Alert's security team swarmed in, securing the room and pulling Swindle off Smokescreen's prone form.
"....had to try...." Swindle groaned in Smokescreen's audio just as he was pulled off. The small Combaticon was in no state to fight back and he was yanked away like a sack of useless old parts. His chassis creaked and continued to smoke as he lay there mostly senseless in the arms of Red Alert's security forces.
"I know," Smokescreen tried to whisper back, but all his vocalizer would produce was static.
Red Alert strode into the room and shot Swindle a filthy look before moving to Smokescreen's side.
"Get that piece of slag out of here and this time, chain him up properly. I don't want him moving a micron, understand?"
"Yes, sir!" the guards answered in unison before pulling Swindle from the room.
Swindle just groaned, his head lolling weakly to the side as they carted him off.
"Prowl!" Jazz called, chasing after the tactician as they hurried through the base away from the prison block."Wait up! Hey, Prowl!"
"What is it, Jazz?" Prowl never stopped walking toward the commissary. He was still fuming at Onslaught's words and actions. And worse still, he was furious at his own reaction to the whole thing. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Jazz, but still, he managed to keep his tone civil, if clipped.
Jazz increased his pace to catch up with the angry tactician. "Ya can't just lay a mech out like that and try and play it off like yer okay. I'm worried is all. And seein' as how I've seen ya really loose yer temper all o' maybe five times in all the vorns I've known ya, I think I got reason to be worried."
"I'm fine. What you saw was a calculated tactical response to an illogical reaction. Unfortunately, however, we won't be getting anything from Onslaught," Prowl replied, slowing his pace slightly as the saboteur came up beside him. "What about the others? Did they make any headway with the rest of the Combaticons?"
Jazz just stared at him unimpressed. "That's just fancy talk for saying 'I got angry and lost my temper because some creepy 'con put his hands on me', Prowl."
The saboteur sagged slightly at mention of the Combaticons. "I don't know, Smokey is trying to talk to Swindle right now. I.....I dunno." Guilt weighed heavily on Jazz's shoulders. These were his troops but the logical part of him told Jazz the Combaticons might prove more useful outside of Megatron's hands.
"I didn't lose my temper," Prowl sniffed, sounding more than a little offended. "That would be a completely illogical response to him molesting me." These last few words were practically growled and his hands clenched angrily.
"No it wouldn't, he touched you, forced himself on you so you've every right to be angry."
Suddenly Prowl lost his temper again and he spun on Jazz. "What precisely was he hoping to accomplish in there?!"
"He was probly doing it just to get a rise outta you. To throw ya off-balance just to see you squirm like you are right now." Jazz didn't even jump when Prowl turned on him suddenly in a fit of anger.
"Making me squirm doesn't accomplish anything for himself or his team. It was a dirty move all around," Prowl replied harshly.
"Yes it was but that's how psychological warfare works, Prowl. Now he's gotcha all upset and tied into knots over something as simple as a kiss. 'Cons fight dirty, we both know that. 'Specially one of their primary tacticians."
The tactician cleared his vents forcefully then calmed, and suddenly it was as if nothing was wrong. "It was an illogical response on both of our parts. I shouldn't have let his words and accusations to bother me." He continued to walk toward the commissary. "I take it that since you've sent Smokescreen in to speak with Swindle that things didn't go well with the other interviews. And I'm also assuming that I can expect an official complaint from Red Alert?"
"And I'm sure Red'll find something to whine about," Jazz muttered, still following Prowl through the halls. "We're gonna go through with the trade then?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't we? Even if Swindle were to provide us with something worthwhile it wouldn't supersede the safety of your mechs," Prowl replied. "Besides, what would we do with them if we didn't make the trade? Do you really think that a monster like Vortex would fit into the Autobot structure? We don't have the time or means to keep them incarcerated and we both know that Megatron will execute them for their crimes. Can you honestly say that they deserve anything less?"
"I know, and....honestly, I'd rather see 'em dead and have my mechs back." Jazz broke off when Red Alert contacted him via comms.
'Jazz, you're needed in Cell Five. There's been another incident.'
'....frag. What happened, Red?' Jazz asked unhappily as he turned and headed off in the direction of the cells.
'Smokescreen let Swindle grab him and he failed to inform us that the piece of slag Decepticon could get out of the restraints!'
"Frag it all," Jazz snarled under his breath.
'Just get down here, Jazz. I need someone in charge to watch over this idiot while I make sure that Swindle is properly secured. I do not trust him, Jazz. It was a mistake bringing him into this considering his history. We have absolutely no reason to trust Smokescreen at all!'
'That ain't yer call to make, Red! Just do yer job and I'll do mine.'
'Fine, it's your call. But I am officially going on record as disapproving of his presence here.' Red Alert replied acerbically before closing the line.
'Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know.' Jazz replied with a hint of sarcasm before the line closed.
"Prowl, go keep Red Alert in check would you? I'm going to go see to Smokey." It wasn't often the Spec Ops commander got irritated but this was certainly one of those times. Jazz stalked back into the prison block.
"Slag, what happened, Smokey?" Jazz asked when he reached the cell. The saboteur knelt down next to the tactician, checking him over carefully.
Smokescreen smiled wanly at Jazz's question. "I made a bit of a tactical error. I got too close. To show trust, you know? I had no idea that he could get out of his bonds like that and next thing I know, he's got me pinned," Smokescreen replied with a groan as he tried to stand up. "Aw frag, I think he broke my door hinge!" Thrown off balance and still weak from the jolt, Smokescreen slid back to the floor.
"That was not your most bright shining moment, that's fer certain." Jazz teased and moved to help Smokescreen sit up. "Come on, you need to see the medics. It's obvious we ain't gonna get anything out of this bunch, not with the timeframe we've got hanging over our heads."
"No, we're not," Smokescreen replied as he accepted the help to stand up. "Look, Jazz, I know you know what you're doing, and I know that they're your crew ... but is this really the best way to go? I mean, handing hi- them over like this, it just doesn't seem right. Isn't there a better way to go about doing it?"
Jazz did not miss that slip and his optics sharpened slightly as he looked at Smokescreen. "Smokey.....they're the enemy. You're fragging right I'll trade them if it means a chance of getting my troops back. I know you and this crew had a history and all but they're stone-cold murderers and you can't afford to loose sight of that. I can't afford to have you loose sight of that."
"I ... right ... sorry, Jazz," Smokescreen replied softly. "They're the enemy and they've chosen this. I know that."
A sympathizing look appeared on Jazz's faceplates and he laid a gentle hand on Smokescreen's shoulder armor. "We've all lost friends and comrades to this war. Deactivating is one thing but when you see 'em turn 'con it's even harder."
Smokescreen felt a cold, dull ache wash through his spark, but he steeled himself through it. He'd offered a way out and it had been thrown back in his face. This was how it had to be and he had to accept that.
"When's the transfer? I should see a medic, but I should probably be there for the transfer. Just in case."
The saboteur cycled air through his vents and eyed the other mech. "Are you sure that's such a good idea, Smokey?"
"It probably isn't, but Megatron's likely going to be there and you're going to need as much backup as possible," Smokescreen said firmly. "I can do this and I won't let you down. Regardless of what some mechs might like to think," he added in a dark and brooding grumble.
"Just let me know when and where and I'll be there. No matter what."
"Well you're not going anywhere until we get that door looked at." Jazz chastised and helped Smokescreen to his feet.
"I'll get the door removed if they can't fix it in time. I can handle being a door short if it means I'm there with you."
Jazz sniffed suspiciously, a flicker of outrage flashing across his features. "Smells like melted wiring.....what happened?"
"Swindle attacked me and rather than letting me deal with it, Red decided to set off the security system. I was lying flat on my back at the time and got a full charge," Smokescreen replied irritably. Suddenly, his body betrayed him and he lost his balance. As he tilted precariously his arms shot out to the sides in an attempt to stave off a fall.
"Spawnuvaglitch!" Jazz snarled, outrage turning to anger as he stumbled under Smokescreen's weight. "He won't get away with that, Smokey, I promise. Fraggin' cold sparked slaghead. That goes against all policy and he slaggin' well knows it! And you're not going anywhere but to a medic, Smokey."
"I'm. Fine," Smokescreen growled through gritted dental plates. He righted himself and pulled away from Jazz. "I can get to the med bay on my own. You just deal with the final preparations."
Without waiting for confirmation he started to slowly walk out of the room, each step taken gingerly.
"I'll come check on you after I'm through with Red." Jazz murmured with a grim look before turning and walking in search of the security director.
Smokescreen made his way toward the med bay for just as long as it took to confirm that Jazz was no longer around. Then, after finding Swindle's new location, he turned and headed directly to the cell. It was a simple matter to get the guards to let him in, but as soon as he entered the cell, he froze, suddenly completely unsure as to why he was here.
Swindle was physically chained against the wall, the chains pulled taut to keep him from moving hand or foot. It was more like how you would chain up an animal than a sentient Cybertronian. He looked up when Smokescreen walked in, lips compressing into a thin slash before he looked away with a frown.
"Swindle ... I need to talk to you," Smokescreen said in a soft voice as soon as he collected himself.
"Heh, well, I think you've found the perfect opportunity to 'talk' to me. Ain't like I'm going to be going anywhere for a while." The tan and purple mech muttered with a trace of petulance.
Smokescreen took an unsteady step forward, his broken doorwing shivering uselessly behind him. "You know what's coming as well as I do. You're going to be handed over to Megatron and he won't be forgiving. If you could just even pretend to cooperate I could do something to get you out of this-" He broke off as his vocalizer shorted out, filled with a sudden burst of static.
"......it would never work, Smokey. Megatron can reach us even in here if he chose to. When we were off the grid, we stood a chance, now....we're just living on borrowed time."
"We can keep you safe. We can get you out of this if yo-" Again his vocalizer shorted out and he shook his head irritably. "Why in Primus' name are you following that maniac? I mean, I can see Ons buying all that crap about a better world through forced unity, but you? This was never your bag. You and I both know that we'll have more freedom to move under the Autobots than you'll ever see under the Cons."
He slowly approached the bound Combaticon, arms hanging limply at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if itching to touch, stroke, and grab.
A small, fatalistic smile crossed Swindle's faceplates. "They don't ask me to be something I'm not, Smokey. I don't have to hide who and what I am. These Autobots expect you to play by their rules, expect you to conform to their standards and to live a lie. How is that freedom? The Decepticons might be harsher in their expectations but at leas their honest."
"I'm not hiding who I am," Smokescreen replied, but there was no conviction in the dull, grey voice.
"Yes you are. Because if you weren't, you wouldn't be sneaking in to see an old lover looking all guilt-ridden and sorry. This ain't you, Smokey and one day you're going to realize that." Swindle whispered, voice defeated as well.
"Fine, you've made up your mind. And I know you well enough to know that when you've set to a course, even Primus himself couldn't drag you off it. You always were a stubborn glitch." There was no recrimination in Smokescreen's words. Just defeat. "This wasn't how I wanted it to end, Swindle. Just so you know that."
He closed the space between them and reached out as if to stroke Swindle's cheek, but stopped mid-motion. "I just wish I could convince you that there's another way."
Swindle sat there, watching Smokescreen warily as he reached out as if to touch him. Perhaps most telling of all, he didn't try and pull away or attack him this time. Smokescreen's optics dimmed and his working doorwing drooped in defeat. Finally, he completed the move and stroked Swindle's cheek gently. Swindle shuddered and leaned into the touch, his own optics dimming slightly with shared pain.
"I'm so sorry, Swin. I wish I was ... stronger ..." he whispered before leaning in and kissing his former lover gently and with a bitter sorrow.
"....I know, Smokey." He whispered softly as he leaned into the kiss with matching bittersweet longing. Chains rattled as he tried to shift but found himself drawn up short. The Decepticon tried to drag it out as long as possible.
Smokescreen broke of the kiss and stepped away, optics filled with pain. Without another word he turned and left the room before he broke down completely.