Understood
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Chapter 19
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Tailgate and Swerve were leaning on the utility box to the side of the Old Kaon Tavern, a small rollback board spread open atop the box. It was five days to payday, so chances of either of them finding a customer tonight were slim. But should that slim chance arise, they were there, and playing rollback was an excellent way to stave off boredom. Sometimes it even attracted a mech who liked to play or liked to watch others play. Five times they'd found a customer on dead nights this way.
Boredom. They'd found there was a lot of it in their line of work. The endless waiting between the feast of payday, where for three days mechs with full pockets and a bit of charge to work off would be practically lining up for a cycle or two of pleasure, and the famine of the rest of the decacycle where entertaining one mech a night was considered excellent work.
They'd heard that work in the pleasure houses was slightly steadier. And that it was better yet in the high-end houses that operated in Lower Kaon and Kaon Riverside. Though only factory-framed pleasurebots and the finest mechs and femmes worked at those establishments. There was only a vague hope that either of them would find a place in one of Overdock houses. And of course there was never even a glimmer of hope that they'd even set foot in one of the pleasure palaces those of Cyclonus' rank usually frequented. The recent evening with Cyclonus and his friends had only confirmed that. The two hired femmes, painted in luxurious colors and detailed with gold leaf, were so high in rank in the demimonde Tailgate had felt ashamed every time they'd glanced his direction. He was just a throwaway little refugee streetwalker while they'd probably fragged Megatron himself.
Tailgate watched as the three dice rolled to a stop and Swerve chuckled in dreadful mirth. Two eights and a six. "Get ready to pay up, Tailgate," Swerve said with mock belligerence as he picked up his player-token and began to move it across the board.
The blue and white minibot groaned. "You've had all the luck tonight."
"I know. You're usually the lucky one."
Tailgate reached down into his little bag of tokens they played with instead of money, a collection of seal disks saved from size-two energon cubes, most of which had come from their days at the academy together.
"I'm just hoping my luck holds out. If I can get that job at the munitions plant, at least one of us will have steady pay and work we don't have to be embarrassed about."
"There are worse jobs. I used to be a waste disposal technician," Tailgate sighed. "I couldn't believe it when the academy actually accepted me. Primus bless the Decepticons for overthrowing the Functionists."
"And Primus curse the Decepticons for blowing up the academy. If they hadn't done that, we wouldn't be here sucking spike for a living."
Tailgate sighed. "Yeah... mixed blessing. Life is so uncertain. Every time you think things are going to be comfortable for a while, something else comes along and upsets the balance."
"Speaking of something else coming along..." said Swerve, lifting his face. The sweet smile he used for welcoming potential customers appeared.
Tailgate turned to look behind him, only to recognize that the mech striding over was the blue and orange seeker that had been at Cyclonus' party a few days before. "Tailgate! You're here," he said with a smile.
"Yes. I thought you were just teasing when you said you might come looking for me here," he replied, unsure of what else to say.
"I don't tease," the jet stated. "Are you busy?" he asked, noting the rollback board spread out on the utility box.
"Not really. Just passing the time, having a little fun."
He stepped up and noticed that instead of credit chips the gambling pens on the board were full of energon cube seals, eliciting a smirk from his taut lips. He picked one up and peered at it before setting it back down. "So, want to go have some real fun?"
"His price is four hundred credits for one cycle, but you can have the both of us for seven hundred," Swerve quoted quickly, hoping to be in on the deal.
The seeker looked at Swerve with a questioning optic. "And you are?"
"He's my partner," said Tailgate, taking the other minibot's hand with a smile. "We like to work together."
"Partners. I see," he responded with some enthusiasm. "So suppose I wanted to take you two home with me and frag you both for a few cycles, would that be possible?"
"It would," smiled Swerve. This was suddenly looking like it could be a profitable evening.
"And suppose I wanted to tie you up, or take some private pictures? Or both?"
"The price goes up," added Swerve quickly.
The seeker smiled with something of a predatory gleam in his optics. "I can afford it, if you're willing to let me."
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The Decepticon gave Tailgate and Swerve a copy of the file of video captures he'd made as if it were some sort of bonus, pictures of the two of them bound in various positions in the seeker's quarters—pictures of the seeker fragging them silly, pictures of the seeker doing obscene things to their tiny frames, pictures of the two looking helpless and thoroughly degraded. And then he paid them five thousand credits each and showed them to the washrack where they could clean up before heading back to Overdock.
The two stood beneath the shower nozzle clinging to each other, trying to comfort each other as they cleaned off the spilled fluids and rubbed out the paint scuffs. It had been horrible and humiliating and even frightening at times. "I'm so sorry," Tailgate whispered to Swerve. "I thought he would be nice. Cyclonus was always nice and gentle with us."
"It's not your fault. This guy seemed decent enough. We all know that the packaging doesn't always match the contents."
"No. At least he didn't hurt us. Not like what happened to Fastfire that one time."
"Not much anyway. The whipping hurt a little... well, a lot."
Tailgate sputtered. "I guess he did hurt you."
"Your valve okay?"
Tailgate nodded. "It will be fine, I think. I've never had anything that big inside of me for that long."
"The money was good, but, never again," Swerve sighed with a sob, patting the blue and white mech comfortingly.
"Never again," sniffled Tailgate, reaching for a fresh scrubbing cloth.
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"Understood" continues in Chapter 20
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Transformers and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.
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