Fic - Something to Live For, Chapter 7 of 14
Title: Something to live for
Chapter 7: The Master Plan
Continuity: G1, Dysfunction AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox, characters not mine.
Characters and/or pairings: Onslaught, Swindle, Brawl, Blast Off, and Bruticus.
Beta: naboru_narluin.
Summary: Onslaught proposes a plan to rescue Vortex. Blast Off is condescending, Brawl is happy, and Swindle has a moment of nostalgia.
[ Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6]
Chapter 7: The Master Plan
"So," said Onslaught. "What do we know?" His gun barrels gleamed in the moonlight, bright against the dark bulk of Combaticon HQ. A chill breeze wound its way through the crater, kicking up dust, while Lazerbeak circled far overhead, a sinister blot against the stars.
"Frag all," Swindle responded. Onslaught watched him fidget; the little reprobate never had been any good with open spaces. "What do you want to know next?"
"Ignoramus," Blast Off sniffed. "We know he's in the Autobot brig. We know that's towards the rear of the Ark, which means that it shouldn't be buried too deeply within the mountain, if at all. We also know that he will be well-guarded, and that Prime is due back tomorrow."
"Then what are we waiting for?" said Brawl. "Let's go get 'em!"
Blast Off shook his head. "This is a rescue mission, not a gung ho, all-guns-blazing free-for-all!"
Brawl went to protest, but Onslaught raised his hand. "Blast Off's right," he said. "We mustn't lose sight of the objective."
"I thought the objective was saving our sorry afts," Swindle muttered. He dug the end of his foot in the dirt, uprooting a cactus.
Onslaught gave Swindle a long, hard look. "And how are we going to do that?" he prompted. Swindle returned his gaze, lips set in a stiff line.
"Oh, I know that one!" Brawl shouted. Swindle turned and glared at him; the tank clenched his fists. "Well, I do," he said. "I'm not sayin' we go in and kick aft and forget the other stuff. We got better guns and all, I say we shoot our way in, bag the ‘copter and shoot our way out. Easy."
"Not necessarily," Onslaught replied. "Aside from matters of pure logistics, Blast Off's surveillance indicates that Wheeljack has extended the security perimeter by several miles. In order to get close enough to access the brig, we will - at the very least - require a certain degree of subterfuge, and a diversion."
"Surveillance?" Swindle gaped. "Since when?"
"Since today," Blast Off said. "When I was busy working, while you and Idle Processor here were recovering from your overcharge."
"What exactly are you implying?" Swindle growled. Beside him, Brawl tensed.
"Stop, now," Onslaught said. "Swindle, it was not an implication, it was explicit: you're a lazy, selfish glutton. Unless you have anything constructive to say, you will shut the frag up. Blast Off, stop goading them, it's beneath you."
Blast Off vented sand from his intakes and leaned against a boulder. Swindle's engine growled, but he didn't speak. Brawl relaxed.
"All right," Onslaught said. "Who remembers that job on the senatorial palace?"
Swindle's optics narrowed. "No..." he whispered, something like nostalgia glimmering in the violet glass. "You're not suggesting..."
Brawl glanced up at Lazerbeak. "There was that diamond," he said. "Yeah? Biggest slaggin' see-through rock I ever saw."
"It was heavy," Blast Off huffed. "Not to mention sharp."
Swindle sighed.
"Didn't Megsy want it for that massive gun thing?" Brawl asked, making cannon shapes in the moonlight with his hands.
Swindle nodded, slowly. "The Aegis Program," he mused. "Yeah, I remember. Good times..." He sank into silence, and Onslaught waited.
The Detention Centre had lasted an eternity, alone in the dark with only their memories to call upon. It made them unstable, gave them insecurities, but it also opened up cracks where he might be able to wedge a lever.
"So," said Swindle, after a while. "Crazy copter's the package, Blast Off's the getaway, Brawl's the diversion, and it's you and me going in?"
Onslaught nodded. It was impressive how well Swindle remembered a plan if it had anything to do with personal gain.
Brawl huffed. "I never get to go in."
"But you do get to blow things up," Blast Off said, in what he probably thought was an encouraging tone, but which just came off as condescending. "Big things. Skyfire's at the Ark."
Brawl's visor lit up. "Really?"
Onslaught nodded. "Along with the scientific crew, the SIC and a few grunts. Ironhide's gone, so the only real problems will be Prowl, Prime and the shuttle."
Brawl cracked his knuckles happily. "Gonna smash his big white aft..."
"Well," Swindle said, using his heel to grind the cactus into squishy grey paste. "We know the plan. Why are we still out here?”
Brawl gave him a curious glance.
"An experiment," Onslaught said. The next words threatened to stick in his vocaliser. There was no reason to do this, not here, not now… Except there was. They had to know; he had to know. Especially after that incident with Brawl. "Combaticons, transform and combine."
He’d expected a chorus of ‘I don’t want to’ and ‘why should I bother?’, but to his surprise they complied. He’d almost hoped they wouldn’t. He gritted his denta, and thrust himself past the point of no return and into the combination.
Along with the objections, he’d also expected a loss of balance, but that, likewise, did not come. Melding smoothly with Blast Off, he felt Swindle and Brawl connect effortlessly beneath him, the bulk of Bruticus emerging impossibly fast from its constituent parts.
Only one thing was wrong.
An absence to his right. A void where there should have been a frantic whirl of tactile memory and cruel, cold impulses. Instead, there was a sharp stinging ache from the gestalt programming as it struggled for a completeness it could not achieve.
To Onslaught's surprise, their combined form held together. It hadn't before, when Swindle betrayed them all, and Brawl's personality component was lost. But Brawl was one of the legs, Vortex one of the arms - there was logic in it holding together now.
The final connection clicked into place, and Onslaught lost himself in the slew of input and slow, ponderous thought that was Bruticus.
* * *
Something was wrong. Missing. Bruticus looked down. His left arm was... somewhere else.
"Where?" He spoke the word aloud, and the gestalt bond answered in a barrage of image-intuition-feeling.
Injured. In recharge. Separate and self-contained. Not conscious. But Bruticus reached out anyway, using the connection to tug at him, wake him up, make him come back.
It failed.
He needed to go, to fetch. Find what was missing, and reunite with it.
But a nudge from the driving part of him - the central part - told him that was for later. Now was for... Target practice. Shooting cactuses and strange see-through mechs in the dust bowl.
Not shooting the metal bird wheeling above his head.
Not shooting his own foot, although he came close. It was hard to keep his balance, and he used the thrusters that belonged to his good arm just to stay upright.
Now was time for flying, for smashing things, for testing his abilities.
And all the while, his many engines emitted a steady growl, his vocaliser a staticky hiss. He was missing a major part of himself. And it hurt.
Chapter 7: The Master Plan
Continuity: G1, Dysfunction AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox, characters not mine.
Characters and/or pairings: Onslaught, Swindle, Brawl, Blast Off, and Bruticus.
Beta: naboru_narluin.
Summary: Onslaught proposes a plan to rescue Vortex. Blast Off is condescending, Brawl is happy, and Swindle has a moment of nostalgia.
[ Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6]
Chapter 7: The Master Plan
"So," said Onslaught. "What do we know?" His gun barrels gleamed in the moonlight, bright against the dark bulk of Combaticon HQ. A chill breeze wound its way through the crater, kicking up dust, while Lazerbeak circled far overhead, a sinister blot against the stars.
"Frag all," Swindle responded. Onslaught watched him fidget; the little reprobate never had been any good with open spaces. "What do you want to know next?"
"Ignoramus," Blast Off sniffed. "We know he's in the Autobot brig. We know that's towards the rear of the Ark, which means that it shouldn't be buried too deeply within the mountain, if at all. We also know that he will be well-guarded, and that Prime is due back tomorrow."
"Then what are we waiting for?" said Brawl. "Let's go get 'em!"
Blast Off shook his head. "This is a rescue mission, not a gung ho, all-guns-blazing free-for-all!"
Brawl went to protest, but Onslaught raised his hand. "Blast Off's right," he said. "We mustn't lose sight of the objective."
"I thought the objective was saving our sorry afts," Swindle muttered. He dug the end of his foot in the dirt, uprooting a cactus.
Onslaught gave Swindle a long, hard look. "And how are we going to do that?" he prompted. Swindle returned his gaze, lips set in a stiff line.
"Oh, I know that one!" Brawl shouted. Swindle turned and glared at him; the tank clenched his fists. "Well, I do," he said. "I'm not sayin' we go in and kick aft and forget the other stuff. We got better guns and all, I say we shoot our way in, bag the ‘copter and shoot our way out. Easy."
"Not necessarily," Onslaught replied. "Aside from matters of pure logistics, Blast Off's surveillance indicates that Wheeljack has extended the security perimeter by several miles. In order to get close enough to access the brig, we will - at the very least - require a certain degree of subterfuge, and a diversion."
"Surveillance?" Swindle gaped. "Since when?"
"Since today," Blast Off said. "When I was busy working, while you and Idle Processor here were recovering from your overcharge."
"What exactly are you implying?" Swindle growled. Beside him, Brawl tensed.
"Stop, now," Onslaught said. "Swindle, it was not an implication, it was explicit: you're a lazy, selfish glutton. Unless you have anything constructive to say, you will shut the frag up. Blast Off, stop goading them, it's beneath you."
Blast Off vented sand from his intakes and leaned against a boulder. Swindle's engine growled, but he didn't speak. Brawl relaxed.
"All right," Onslaught said. "Who remembers that job on the senatorial palace?"
Swindle's optics narrowed. "No..." he whispered, something like nostalgia glimmering in the violet glass. "You're not suggesting..."
Brawl glanced up at Lazerbeak. "There was that diamond," he said. "Yeah? Biggest slaggin' see-through rock I ever saw."
"It was heavy," Blast Off huffed. "Not to mention sharp."
Swindle sighed.
"Didn't Megsy want it for that massive gun thing?" Brawl asked, making cannon shapes in the moonlight with his hands.
Swindle nodded, slowly. "The Aegis Program," he mused. "Yeah, I remember. Good times..." He sank into silence, and Onslaught waited.
The Detention Centre had lasted an eternity, alone in the dark with only their memories to call upon. It made them unstable, gave them insecurities, but it also opened up cracks where he might be able to wedge a lever.
"So," said Swindle, after a while. "Crazy copter's the package, Blast Off's the getaway, Brawl's the diversion, and it's you and me going in?"
Onslaught nodded. It was impressive how well Swindle remembered a plan if it had anything to do with personal gain.
Brawl huffed. "I never get to go in."
"But you do get to blow things up," Blast Off said, in what he probably thought was an encouraging tone, but which just came off as condescending. "Big things. Skyfire's at the Ark."
Brawl's visor lit up. "Really?"
Onslaught nodded. "Along with the scientific crew, the SIC and a few grunts. Ironhide's gone, so the only real problems will be Prowl, Prime and the shuttle."
Brawl cracked his knuckles happily. "Gonna smash his big white aft..."
"Well," Swindle said, using his heel to grind the cactus into squishy grey paste. "We know the plan. Why are we still out here?”
Brawl gave him a curious glance.
"An experiment," Onslaught said. The next words threatened to stick in his vocaliser. There was no reason to do this, not here, not now… Except there was. They had to know; he had to know. Especially after that incident with Brawl. "Combaticons, transform and combine."
He’d expected a chorus of ‘I don’t want to’ and ‘why should I bother?’, but to his surprise they complied. He’d almost hoped they wouldn’t. He gritted his denta, and thrust himself past the point of no return and into the combination.
Along with the objections, he’d also expected a loss of balance, but that, likewise, did not come. Melding smoothly with Blast Off, he felt Swindle and Brawl connect effortlessly beneath him, the bulk of Bruticus emerging impossibly fast from its constituent parts.
Only one thing was wrong.
An absence to his right. A void where there should have been a frantic whirl of tactile memory and cruel, cold impulses. Instead, there was a sharp stinging ache from the gestalt programming as it struggled for a completeness it could not achieve.
To Onslaught's surprise, their combined form held together. It hadn't before, when Swindle betrayed them all, and Brawl's personality component was lost. But Brawl was one of the legs, Vortex one of the arms - there was logic in it holding together now.
The final connection clicked into place, and Onslaught lost himself in the slew of input and slow, ponderous thought that was Bruticus.
* * *
Something was wrong. Missing. Bruticus looked down. His left arm was... somewhere else.
"Where?" He spoke the word aloud, and the gestalt bond answered in a barrage of image-intuition-feeling.
Injured. In recharge. Separate and self-contained. Not conscious. But Bruticus reached out anyway, using the connection to tug at him, wake him up, make him come back.
It failed.
He needed to go, to fetch. Find what was missing, and reunite with it.
But a nudge from the driving part of him - the central part - told him that was for later. Now was for... Target practice. Shooting cactuses and strange see-through mechs in the dust bowl.
Not shooting the metal bird wheeling above his head.
Not shooting his own foot, although he came close. It was hard to keep his balance, and he used the thrusters that belonged to his good arm just to stay upright.
Now was time for flying, for smashing things, for testing his abilities.
And all the while, his many engines emitted a steady growl, his vocaliser a staticky hiss. He was missing a major part of himself. And it hurt.