Fic - Swindle's Petro-bunny Legion of Doom
Title: Swindle's Petro-bunny Legion of Doom
Continuity: G1 cartoon, Dysfunction AU
Setting: Cybertron, pre-war
Rating: PG
Content advice: cracky genfic
Characters: Swindle, Vortex, Blast Off.
Beta: naboru_narluin
Summary: Swindle shows off his latest purchase to a perplexed Vortex.
Vortex paused on his way through the main hangar. "What the slag is that?"
Swindle beamed, and thrust the little drone at his face. "It's a petro-rabbit."
"It is?" Vortex didn't sound impressed.
"Sure," Swindle replied. "You ain't never seen a petro-bunny before? Ain't it adorable?"
The petro-rabbit wiggled its olfactory sensors, and flicked one of its oddly articulated floppy antennae with a tiny, blunt paw.
Vortex poked it in the eye.
"Don't do that!" Swindle yanked it out of arm's reach. The drone squeaked and squirmed; trying to hide its face in the crook of Swindle's arm. "They're not sentient, but they still got sensor relays." He winced; its hind legs packed quite a punch.
"Hehe, that's kinda funny." Vortex moved closer and grabbed an antenna; the bunny flinched. "Hey look, these things bend! Where'd you get it?"
"Quintessa," Swindle said, without thinking. Frag.
"Quintessa. Right."
Swindle wanted to kick himself, although the petro-rabbit was doing a good enough job for the both of them. He knew not to let his guard down around Vortex, and yet... there he was, letting his guard down around Vortex.
"Yeah." He forged ahead, as though trading with the Quintessons wasn't a seriously dodgy act that even Onslaught's organisation thought twice before doing. "Got a job lot. They'll sell like crank shafts. Towers mechs'll be clamouring to get at 'em."
Vortex continued to fondle the antenna; when he spoke, his tone carried just the faintest hint of a threat. "Why?"
"They got a fad going for mock-organic hunting preserves. Got turbo foxes, petro-deer, all that slag." Swindle shrugged, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "These'll fit right in. Gonna make a packet.” He winked. “Could treat you to a nice new set of rotors."
Vortex's optics narrowed; this close, they were just about visible through the tinted glass of his visor. "No, you couldn't."
Swindle sighed. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?"
"Oh, I dunno. Could be that comment you made about preferring an exclusive deal."
Swindle rolled his optics. That was vorns ago; damn, the copter could hold a grudge.
The petro-bunny tried to wrench its antenna from Vortex's grip, and he snickered. "How many did you buy?"
"Twenty thousand," Swindle replied before thinking. "Give or… take." Slag, he'd done it again.
"Does Blast Off know you're storing them in here?" Vortex finally let the petro-bunny go, not that this stopped it kicking.
"How'd you know I am?" Swindle couldn't help a guilty glance towards the stack of crates closest to the hangar door.
"That,” Vortex said. “And those weren't there last time Blast Off got unloaded." He jerked a thumb at the crates. "So, you've gone and bought a job lot of twenty thousand useless drones, purely on the strength of Towers mechs having a chip loose and thinking stuff modelled on dumb organics is cute?"
Swindle grinned. "Not quite." He turned the petro-bunny over - suppressing a snicker as Vortex pulled back to avoid getting kicked in the face - and pressed a button on its rounded side. Its abdominal plating parted, revealing motors and circuitry, and a sizable cavity where there was absolutely nothing at all.
The drone glanced down at its own innards, then went limp.
“Playing dead,” Vortex commented, prodding an inert little paw. “Neat.”
Swindle's grin widened. "You think that’s neat, just listen to this. Each petro-bunny can carry enough explosives to level a tower. Plus, they each got a timer and a small device for remote control. There's also a pre-programming option, where you get to dictate their movements over up to 3000 klicks, regardless of the terrain. You impressed yet?"
Vortex shrugged. "No."
Liar, Swindle thought, but he wasn't about to call him on it. A side door opened, and they both glanced up, but it was only Blast Off. The shuttle gave the new crates a suspicious glare.
"Hey, thrusters!" Vortex beckoned him over. "Look what Swindle bought."
Blast Off's glare shifted from the crates to Swindle to the petro-rabbit, completely ignoring Vortex. He froze.
"What the slag is that?"
Continuity: G1 cartoon, Dysfunction AU
Setting: Cybertron, pre-war
Rating: PG
Content advice: cracky genfic
Characters: Swindle, Vortex, Blast Off.
Beta: naboru_narluin
Summary: Swindle shows off his latest purchase to a perplexed Vortex.
Vortex paused on his way through the main hangar. "What the slag is that?"
Swindle beamed, and thrust the little drone at his face. "It's a petro-rabbit."
"It is?" Vortex didn't sound impressed.
"Sure," Swindle replied. "You ain't never seen a petro-bunny before? Ain't it adorable?"
The petro-rabbit wiggled its olfactory sensors, and flicked one of its oddly articulated floppy antennae with a tiny, blunt paw.
Vortex poked it in the eye.
"Don't do that!" Swindle yanked it out of arm's reach. The drone squeaked and squirmed; trying to hide its face in the crook of Swindle's arm. "They're not sentient, but they still got sensor relays." He winced; its hind legs packed quite a punch.
"Hehe, that's kinda funny." Vortex moved closer and grabbed an antenna; the bunny flinched. "Hey look, these things bend! Where'd you get it?"
"Quintessa," Swindle said, without thinking. Frag.
"Quintessa. Right."
Swindle wanted to kick himself, although the petro-rabbit was doing a good enough job for the both of them. He knew not to let his guard down around Vortex, and yet... there he was, letting his guard down around Vortex.
"Yeah." He forged ahead, as though trading with the Quintessons wasn't a seriously dodgy act that even Onslaught's organisation thought twice before doing. "Got a job lot. They'll sell like crank shafts. Towers mechs'll be clamouring to get at 'em."
Vortex continued to fondle the antenna; when he spoke, his tone carried just the faintest hint of a threat. "Why?"
"They got a fad going for mock-organic hunting preserves. Got turbo foxes, petro-deer, all that slag." Swindle shrugged, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "These'll fit right in. Gonna make a packet.” He winked. “Could treat you to a nice new set of rotors."
Vortex's optics narrowed; this close, they were just about visible through the tinted glass of his visor. "No, you couldn't."
Swindle sighed. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?"
"Oh, I dunno. Could be that comment you made about preferring an exclusive deal."
Swindle rolled his optics. That was vorns ago; damn, the copter could hold a grudge.
The petro-bunny tried to wrench its antenna from Vortex's grip, and he snickered. "How many did you buy?"
"Twenty thousand," Swindle replied before thinking. "Give or… take." Slag, he'd done it again.
"Does Blast Off know you're storing them in here?" Vortex finally let the petro-bunny go, not that this stopped it kicking.
"How'd you know I am?" Swindle couldn't help a guilty glance towards the stack of crates closest to the hangar door.
"That,” Vortex said. “And those weren't there last time Blast Off got unloaded." He jerked a thumb at the crates. "So, you've gone and bought a job lot of twenty thousand useless drones, purely on the strength of Towers mechs having a chip loose and thinking stuff modelled on dumb organics is cute?"
Swindle grinned. "Not quite." He turned the petro-bunny over - suppressing a snicker as Vortex pulled back to avoid getting kicked in the face - and pressed a button on its rounded side. Its abdominal plating parted, revealing motors and circuitry, and a sizable cavity where there was absolutely nothing at all.
The drone glanced down at its own innards, then went limp.
“Playing dead,” Vortex commented, prodding an inert little paw. “Neat.”
Swindle's grin widened. "You think that’s neat, just listen to this. Each petro-bunny can carry enough explosives to level a tower. Plus, they each got a timer and a small device for remote control. There's also a pre-programming option, where you get to dictate their movements over up to 3000 klicks, regardless of the terrain. You impressed yet?"
Vortex shrugged. "No."
Liar, Swindle thought, but he wasn't about to call him on it. A side door opened, and they both glanced up, but it was only Blast Off. The shuttle gave the new crates a suspicious glare.
"Hey, thrusters!" Vortex beckoned him over. "Look what Swindle bought."
Blast Off's glare shifted from the crates to Swindle to the petro-rabbit, completely ignoring Vortex. He froze.
"What the slag is that?"