Cunning Vortex (G1) - R
Title: Fly Until the Last Piece Stops Spinning (28 Vortexes)
Chapter: Cunning Vortex
Rating: R
Warning: Casual murder, Vortex being Vortex, Swindle being Swindle
Summary: Onslaught and Brawl have been captured, Blast Off's off world, and Vortex and Stumpy are on the loose with no supervision. Run, Autobots! Claimed by bittereloquent
“Sooo...” Vortex drew the word out.
Swindle hunched down behind the rock outcropping. “Yeah?” he said, like it was no big deal that they were stuck in the middle of some Primus-forsaken mudhole, being hunted by Autobots, two of their team captured and Blast Off not due back for another two planetary cycles. “Frag,” he muttered, shaking the thick, clinging mud off his cannon. He scowled at Vortex and the helicopter’s cheerily bobbing rotors. “What’re you so happy about?”
“So,” Vortex repeated. “Onslaught’s caught, Blasty’s gone, so that means...?”
“That we’re fragged?” Swindle detached the cannon, glaring at the muck in the mechanism. “Ugh, it’s even up my barrel.”
“No,” Vortex corrected. “It means we’re completely unsupervised.”
Swindle frowned. “What’re you playin’ at?”
“Stumpy,” Vortex said with exaggerated patience. “You and me. Bunch of Autofreaks. No supervision.”
There was a pause, then a slow grin spread across Swindle’s face. “So.”
“Yup.”
“Got any ideas on what we should do?” Swindle snapped the cannon back into place.
“A few.” Vortex wagged his rotors. “Only question is, what do we do first?”
x-x-x
“Look out beloooow!”
The body hit the ground at high speed, spraying Swindle with mud and internal fluids.
“HEY! Watch it, you crazy fragger!”
Vortex cackled, swooping past. “Duck, Stumpy!”
“You’re completely slagged in the processor, you know that?” Swindle wiped the mud off his face before moving over to look over the body. “Frag it, Tex! His weaponry’s completely slagged, plating’s ruined... how’m I supposed to turn a profit if you keep droppin’ it all?”
“Hey, stop whinin’, you already gotta bigger pile o’ scrap and weapons than you can carry yourself. So I dropped a couple, oopsies.” Vortex didn’t sound in the slightest bit sorry as he landed heavily nearby. “That’s the last of the scouts. They’ll be sendin’ out bigger patrols after ‘em.”
“Learn anything good?” Swindle kicked the body over, checking for anything salvageable.
“Yup. Gotta pretty good idea where they’re holdin’ Onslaught ‘n Brawlie,” Vortex said cheerfully.
“How ‘bout where they keep the actual valuables?” Swindle asked dryly.
“Yeah,” Vortex said. “I got that. Know what else I got? Apparently this slagrock is hostin’ a whole pile o’ nuetrals, too. Autotrash’s been tradin’ with ‘em.” Swindle couldn’t see Vortex’s face, but he saw the rotors twist, light glittering down sharpened edges. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
Swindle grinned nastily.
x-x-x
Onslaught leaned back against the wall of the improvised cell, contemplating his options. An arm length away, Brawl was sprawled out, deep in recharge. The Autobot base was an old manufacturing plant, but the walls were thicker than he could break through without his weaponry. At least, he thought with dry humor, Without attracting a lot of unwanted attention.
The Autobots who had managed to capture him were plentiful, if not highly trained. Frankly, if it wasn’t for how badly outnumbered they’d been, he’d be embarrassed to have been taken by such unprofessional troops. Doubt there was a soldier in the lot.
Brawl’s engine coughed, and he stirred, rolling over before dropping right back into recharge. Onslaught watched him with mingled irritation and amusement. He certainly wouldn’t be recharging any time soon, not until he found a way to get them out of captivity.
Unfortunately, so far he hadn’t come up with a better plan than “Overpower and take hostage the next Autobot to open the cell door,” which frankly was not the best he’d ever come up with.
A muted series of tones alerted him to someone accessing the security lock. Onslaught tensed, getting his feet underneath him, ready to lunge.
The door slid open, a red and blue Autobot in the opening, with a panicked expression on his face, and a grey hand clenched against the back of his neck and a rifle barrel against his helm.
Vortex leaned into view, waggling a rotor. “Heya boss! Wanna ride?”
“Vortex?” Onslaught stared in disbelief.
“Yup. So, we gonna go get on that nice shuttle we went to all that trouble to steal, or should we wait for those Autobots to come back?” The helicopter laughed, and his captive shook. “Apparently, someone’s been killin’ their scouts and attacked some poor widdle neutrals, so they sent everyone out to find the big bad monster.”
Onslaught shook his head. “I’m going to want a full report - after we get out of here. Where’s Swindle?”
“Loadin’ up the goodies. Hey, Brawl!” Vortex shoved his captive inside, and followed, delivering a kick to Brawl’s treads. “Wakey!”
“Gmph.” Brawl lifted his head. “Oh, hey Tex. We goin’ home?”
“Yup. Get your aft up.”
Onslaught shook his head as Brawl clambered up. “I don’t suppose you happened across our equipment on your way in?”
“Nah, but you can have his,” Vortex said, passing over a rifle. “Stumpy’s emptying the armory, so maybe you’ll get lucky.” He fanned his rotors while Onslaught checked over the Autobot rifle with distaste. “C’mon, Ons, you can say it, I won’t tell.”
“Say what?” Onslaught asked, warily.
“‘Good job, Vortex’” Vortex waggled a rotor. “C’mon, three words, you can do it.”
“Get your aft moving,” Onslaught growled.
The helicopter laughed, and cut his captive’s fuel lines, letting him drop to the floor to bleed out. “You heard the boss, Brawlie, let’s go.”
“Oh, and Vortex?” Onslaught stopped the helicopter from following Brawl out.
“Yeah, boss?” Vortex cocked his head.
“Good job,” Onslaught said gruffly.
The helicopter laughed. “So does this mean I can keep my new widdle neutral toys we got on the shuttle?”
“Absolutely not.”
Masterlist
Chapter: Cunning Vortex
Rating: R
Warning: Casual murder, Vortex being Vortex, Swindle being Swindle
Summary: Onslaught and Brawl have been captured, Blast Off's off world, and Vortex and Stumpy are on the loose with no supervision. Run, Autobots! Claimed by bittereloquent
“Sooo...” Vortex drew the word out.
Swindle hunched down behind the rock outcropping. “Yeah?” he said, like it was no big deal that they were stuck in the middle of some Primus-forsaken mudhole, being hunted by Autobots, two of their team captured and Blast Off not due back for another two planetary cycles. “Frag,” he muttered, shaking the thick, clinging mud off his cannon. He scowled at Vortex and the helicopter’s cheerily bobbing rotors. “What’re you so happy about?”
“So,” Vortex repeated. “Onslaught’s caught, Blasty’s gone, so that means...?”
“That we’re fragged?” Swindle detached the cannon, glaring at the muck in the mechanism. “Ugh, it’s even up my barrel.”
“No,” Vortex corrected. “It means we’re completely unsupervised.”
Swindle frowned. “What’re you playin’ at?”
“Stumpy,” Vortex said with exaggerated patience. “You and me. Bunch of Autofreaks. No supervision.”
There was a pause, then a slow grin spread across Swindle’s face. “So.”
“Yup.”
“Got any ideas on what we should do?” Swindle snapped the cannon back into place.
“A few.” Vortex wagged his rotors. “Only question is, what do we do first?”
x-x-x
“Look out beloooow!”
The body hit the ground at high speed, spraying Swindle with mud and internal fluids.
“HEY! Watch it, you crazy fragger!”
Vortex cackled, swooping past. “Duck, Stumpy!”
“You’re completely slagged in the processor, you know that?” Swindle wiped the mud off his face before moving over to look over the body. “Frag it, Tex! His weaponry’s completely slagged, plating’s ruined... how’m I supposed to turn a profit if you keep droppin’ it all?”
“Hey, stop whinin’, you already gotta bigger pile o’ scrap and weapons than you can carry yourself. So I dropped a couple, oopsies.” Vortex didn’t sound in the slightest bit sorry as he landed heavily nearby. “That’s the last of the scouts. They’ll be sendin’ out bigger patrols after ‘em.”
“Learn anything good?” Swindle kicked the body over, checking for anything salvageable.
“Yup. Gotta pretty good idea where they’re holdin’ Onslaught ‘n Brawlie,” Vortex said cheerfully.
“How ‘bout where they keep the actual valuables?” Swindle asked dryly.
“Yeah,” Vortex said. “I got that. Know what else I got? Apparently this slagrock is hostin’ a whole pile o’ nuetrals, too. Autotrash’s been tradin’ with ‘em.” Swindle couldn’t see Vortex’s face, but he saw the rotors twist, light glittering down sharpened edges. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
Swindle grinned nastily.
x-x-x
Onslaught leaned back against the wall of the improvised cell, contemplating his options. An arm length away, Brawl was sprawled out, deep in recharge. The Autobot base was an old manufacturing plant, but the walls were thicker than he could break through without his weaponry. At least, he thought with dry humor, Without attracting a lot of unwanted attention.
The Autobots who had managed to capture him were plentiful, if not highly trained. Frankly, if it wasn’t for how badly outnumbered they’d been, he’d be embarrassed to have been taken by such unprofessional troops. Doubt there was a soldier in the lot.
Brawl’s engine coughed, and he stirred, rolling over before dropping right back into recharge. Onslaught watched him with mingled irritation and amusement. He certainly wouldn’t be recharging any time soon, not until he found a way to get them out of captivity.
Unfortunately, so far he hadn’t come up with a better plan than “Overpower and take hostage the next Autobot to open the cell door,” which frankly was not the best he’d ever come up with.
A muted series of tones alerted him to someone accessing the security lock. Onslaught tensed, getting his feet underneath him, ready to lunge.
The door slid open, a red and blue Autobot in the opening, with a panicked expression on his face, and a grey hand clenched against the back of his neck and a rifle barrel against his helm.
Vortex leaned into view, waggling a rotor. “Heya boss! Wanna ride?”
“Vortex?” Onslaught stared in disbelief.
“Yup. So, we gonna go get on that nice shuttle we went to all that trouble to steal, or should we wait for those Autobots to come back?” The helicopter laughed, and his captive shook. “Apparently, someone’s been killin’ their scouts and attacked some poor widdle neutrals, so they sent everyone out to find the big bad monster.”
Onslaught shook his head. “I’m going to want a full report - after we get out of here. Where’s Swindle?”
“Loadin’ up the goodies. Hey, Brawl!” Vortex shoved his captive inside, and followed, delivering a kick to Brawl’s treads. “Wakey!”
“Gmph.” Brawl lifted his head. “Oh, hey Tex. We goin’ home?”
“Yup. Get your aft up.”
Onslaught shook his head as Brawl clambered up. “I don’t suppose you happened across our equipment on your way in?”
“Nah, but you can have his,” Vortex said, passing over a rifle. “Stumpy’s emptying the armory, so maybe you’ll get lucky.” He fanned his rotors while Onslaught checked over the Autobot rifle with distaste. “C’mon, Ons, you can say it, I won’t tell.”
“Say what?” Onslaught asked, warily.
“‘Good job, Vortex’” Vortex waggled a rotor. “C’mon, three words, you can do it.”
“Get your aft moving,” Onslaught growled.
The helicopter laughed, and cut his captive’s fuel lines, letting him drop to the floor to bleed out. “You heard the boss, Brawlie, let’s go.”
“Oh, and Vortex?” Onslaught stopped the helicopter from following Brawl out.
“Yeah, boss?” Vortex cocked his head.
“Good job,” Onslaught said gruffly.
The helicopter laughed. “So does this mean I can keep my new widdle neutral toys we got on the shuttle?”
“Absolutely not.”
Masterlist