Speedwriting Prompt Fills

by Exactlywhat

Well... I found the TF Speedwriting Community on LJ, and sorta kinda maybe started writing some. Figured most of these are pretty much one-shots, and it'd kinda be a waste of space to post them all as separate stories. So, here they are. *Note: this will always be marked as complete (even though it isn't), because every fill is its own story, and this isn't one continuous story.

90. Double-Cross

Title: Double-Cross

Rating: K+

Continuity: G1

Characters: Swindle, Mirage, Jazz

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Prompt: 3. Scenario: a double-cross gone wrong.

Swindle shifted as he waited on the docks. He knew he shouldn't have been here; he wasn't supposed to have Autobot customers, after all, but... well, what were a few bent rules in the name of profit?

"Ah. There you are," a smooth, cultured voice called from the dark. "I was beginning to think I would never find you."

Swindle shifted again, smirking at the former noble. "And I thought you would never show up. Pity, had that happened. I would have had a bunch of merch left with no one to take it."

Mirage smirked and tilted his helm to the side. "Well, that just won't do. Let me see it."

"What, you don't trust me?"

The white face stiffened immediately. "No."

"Ouch."

"I assure you, the distrust comes with reason. Now, I would like to see what I have ordered."

Venting, Swindle moved over and lifted the lid of a nearby crate. "Look. All here, just as you ordered."

Mirage moved closer, peering into the crate. Inside, nestled neatly next to each other, were rows of guns. All rather simple blasters, but they were reliable, used little power, and were easily operable. The spy nodded as he moved forward and nudged a few rows aside to peer into the bottom of the crate. "Very well. One crate accounted for. Now the rest."

Swindle shifted, still smirking. "Of course."

Another crate lid was lifted, and Mirage moved over. Once again, he bent over to peer into the bottom layers of the weapons.

It was then that Swindle moved. The former noble froze and cycled a long, deep draft of air through his vents.

"So, these crates are only topped with guns?" the Autobot asked.

"Of course. It's in my name, isn't it?"

"Which's why he brought backup," a lilting voice said, cold and stiff, and it was Swindle's turn to freeze as the barrel of a gun was pressed into the gap between his helm and his back armor.

Mirage stood easily and pushed the gun that had been pressed to his helm to the side, lifting his own weapon to point directly at the Combaticon's spark chamber.

Swindle sighed. "A'right, a'right. The first box is full, the rest are only full half way. Half payment?"

Jazz, Mirage's backup, chuckled. "Quarter payment, Swin', fer th' 'tempt at trickery."

The yellow and purple mech vented again. "But these are top-quality weapons, I've got here. Even at a quarter of th-"

The gun Jazz was holding pressed even deeper into the cords of his neck.

"Ah! Ah, but... Fine. Quarter payment."

Smirking, Mirage unsubspaced a bundle of high-grade cubes and handed them to the yellow and purple mech, who snatched them, subspaced them, and ducked away from Jazz.

"Ah, thank you for your business! I look forward to our next transaction!" he said before quickly quitting the room, leaving Jazz and Mirage behind with their well-earned supplies.