Prompt response - badass
[OOC: This is brought to you by the prompt 'badass' and the moustache twirling school of villainy, and was inspired by Prisoner (rated R, read the warnings before reading the fic) by casusfere (linked with permission).]
There's a technique some interrogator's use. Used it myself a few times. It gets results, used on the right person. Used on the wrong person.... Ha, yeah, that's fraggin' hilarious.
Some dumb glitch once tried to use it on me.
Here's how it works. You get your subject and you get your victim. Subject's the one with intel, victim's the one who's as good as dead, regardless how healthy they look. Victim has to mean something to the subject. If you're dealing with an Autobot, the victim can be near enough anyone. If you're dealing with a 'con or the right kind of neutral... Yeah, you gotta be more selective.
Subject goes in a room with me, victim goes in a room with a couple of guards. They can be anyone, long as they'll follow orders. Helps if they like the smell of half-processed energon.
Subject gets a live vid-feed from the victim's cell, with good quality audio, scent relay too if you can get it. Anything the subject does or says that I don't like or - and here's the crux - doesn't say that I wanna hear, gets taken out on the victim.
Pure and simple.
Only yeah, like I said, some tool tried to use it on me once. He thought he was a badass, stupid fragger. He was a neutral, worked for one of the criminal bosses always getting on Onslaught's wrong side. And anyone who got on Ons's wrong side in them days also got on mine.
Turns out we ground his gears something chronic, who'd have guessed?
So there I was, all slagfaced from the previous night (great night, by the way… What I can remember of it). Could hardly tell which way was up, and I woke up in some cell. Didn't worry much, thought I'd been arrested. Those where the days when Ons would get me outta prison quicker than you can say 'This is coming out of your pay’. Which is a thing Ons used to say. A lot.
Anyway, yeah, so I woke up in this cell, all scrappy grey walls and this stink like someone'd got cosmic rust. Took me a bit to work out I wasn't in the comforting embrace of Security Services, and a bit longer to work out that some fragger had tied me to a chair.
Yeah, takes me a while to boot up sometimes when I’ve had a few.
Whoever had taken me didn't leave me long. They brought in this big mech, meant to be intimidating. Would have worked on someone who doesn't have to face the Inscrutable Wrath of Blast Off on a daily basis. Or, y'know, someone who wasn't me.
I thought he was kinda hot. If it’d been a different situation and all and... Yeah, I'd 'a had him with the rotor waggling and the suggestive optics. As it was, though, I didn't make a great impression. Soon as he took off my mask, I purged all over his feet.
On the plus side, purging gave me the golden opportunity to taste what had been in my tanks. Tranquiliser. Yummy. I made a note to hunt down the bastard who'd drugged me as soon as I got out.
But yeah, the big mech. He did that whole intimidating rough up the prisoner slag - which was kinda fun apart from the purging - then left.
Boring.
Badass should'a known to come in straight after, seeing as it's me, but he didn't. Left me waiting and getting more and more bored and more and more sober by the breem. Amazing what a good purge can do, I almost didn't have a headache.
Almost.
So by the time badass showed up, I was getting a little... twitchy. Hangover plus boredom does that to me. It's not like I got a slow processor, I need to be entertained.
And entertain me he did. Not that this is what he was trying to do.
He pulled the threatening routine too; didn't touch me, just went on and on about how I knew stuff that he needed to know, and how if I didn't tell him then some pretty bad scrap would happen. Like I cared.
I must admit, I wasn't exactly paying attention. He had this weird notch on his lower lip, and this sliver of metal that just kept bobbing around as he talked. What? I'm easily distracted. I just wanted to rip that sucker right off. And his head too, maybe his legs...
Then he activated this holo-projection, showed another cell, and actually managed to get my attention for all of four astroseconds. Contents of the other cell was three massive, hulking mechs and one tiny little tech-bot cowering on his knees on the floor.
Thinks-He's-A-Badass asked me if I knew who tiny was. I said yeah, no point in lying. He was an audio technician worked for Nebula, a comms specialist we sometimes bought scrap from. He used to tag along when I was drinking. Told good jokes.
When I didn't play along on their nice little intel-gathering mission, Badass had his thugs tear tech-bot's arms off.
I, uh, I don't think they expected me to find that as funny as I did. I mean frag, one of the lines stayed attached and made his fingers do this little dance! Can't tell me that ain't something to laugh about.
His technique was scrap - Badass that is. Didn't know squat about psychology. I think he thought if he went far enough, if he got his thugs to do enough to the tech-bot, I'd tell him what he wanted to know.
Yeah, right.
I didn't. I did purge again though, which was kinda funny in itself. He got his hulkers to take out tech-bot's primary fuel pump, which was a bit dull - seen one on that model, you've seen 'em all - but then Badass thought I wasn't paying close enough attention. Which I wasn't. So he grabbed me by the rotor hub and... Yeah, that thing's linked to my equilibrium chip. Cue one queasy copter, and energon all over the desk.
He wasn't happy.
Frag, I wasn't too pleased by that point, I’d also purged all over my knees. But I quickly got happier when I worked out that him yankin' on my hub like that had snapped one of the bonds. And he was too busy yellin' to notice that my hands weren't quite as still as they should have been.
Badass finally got himself under control. Took a while though, long enough for me to work out exactly where the rest of the chain was, and how to shrug it off soon as I wanted to stand up.
I gave it a while. His discomfort was kinda fascinating, unlike his diatribe. He couldn't work me out, kept telling me it was my fault what his mechs were doing to the tech-bot. Kept trying to shift the blame, get me to accept that I was culpable.
Like I hadn't pulled that trick on more mechs than I can be bothered to remember. And made it work.
But he had the wrong subject. There's a few kind of people you can't pull this one on, no matter who you got as a victim. Zealots, and people who think that showing someone the contents of their laser core is a recreational activity.
You guess what category I come under.
I gave little tech-bot the dignity of at least paying attention while he found his way to the eternal scrapyard. Which is more than I'd usually do, but hey, the guy told good jokes.
Badass, sadly, wasn't quite as amusing. Not without tech-bot. He was too tense to carry on, and he knew it. He was all set to head off and leave me on my poor little lonesome, when there was a fraggin' almighty crash from somewhere on the upper levels.
Onslaught always did like to make an entrance.
And that was my cue. Knew it was the boss 'cause Badass's comm snapped on, all these mechs yellin' about how Ons was here and he was seriously torqued.
So I slipped outta the chains and had myself a little explosive fun with Badass. Only a little, though; it doesn't do well to keep Onslaught waiting.
There's a technique some interrogator's use. Used it myself a few times. It gets results, used on the right person. Used on the wrong person.... Ha, yeah, that's fraggin' hilarious.
Some dumb glitch once tried to use it on me.
Here's how it works. You get your subject and you get your victim. Subject's the one with intel, victim's the one who's as good as dead, regardless how healthy they look. Victim has to mean something to the subject. If you're dealing with an Autobot, the victim can be near enough anyone. If you're dealing with a 'con or the right kind of neutral... Yeah, you gotta be more selective.
Subject goes in a room with me, victim goes in a room with a couple of guards. They can be anyone, long as they'll follow orders. Helps if they like the smell of half-processed energon.
Subject gets a live vid-feed from the victim's cell, with good quality audio, scent relay too if you can get it. Anything the subject does or says that I don't like or - and here's the crux - doesn't say that I wanna hear, gets taken out on the victim.
Pure and simple.
Only yeah, like I said, some tool tried to use it on me once. He thought he was a badass, stupid fragger. He was a neutral, worked for one of the criminal bosses always getting on Onslaught's wrong side. And anyone who got on Ons's wrong side in them days also got on mine.
Turns out we ground his gears something chronic, who'd have guessed?
So there I was, all slagfaced from the previous night (great night, by the way… What I can remember of it). Could hardly tell which way was up, and I woke up in some cell. Didn't worry much, thought I'd been arrested. Those where the days when Ons would get me outta prison quicker than you can say 'This is coming out of your pay’. Which is a thing Ons used to say. A lot.
Anyway, yeah, so I woke up in this cell, all scrappy grey walls and this stink like someone'd got cosmic rust. Took me a bit to work out I wasn't in the comforting embrace of Security Services, and a bit longer to work out that some fragger had tied me to a chair.
Yeah, takes me a while to boot up sometimes when I’ve had a few.
Whoever had taken me didn't leave me long. They brought in this big mech, meant to be intimidating. Would have worked on someone who doesn't have to face the Inscrutable Wrath of Blast Off on a daily basis. Or, y'know, someone who wasn't me.
I thought he was kinda hot. If it’d been a different situation and all and... Yeah, I'd 'a had him with the rotor waggling and the suggestive optics. As it was, though, I didn't make a great impression. Soon as he took off my mask, I purged all over his feet.
On the plus side, purging gave me the golden opportunity to taste what had been in my tanks. Tranquiliser. Yummy. I made a note to hunt down the bastard who'd drugged me as soon as I got out.
But yeah, the big mech. He did that whole intimidating rough up the prisoner slag - which was kinda fun apart from the purging - then left.
Boring.
Badass should'a known to come in straight after, seeing as it's me, but he didn't. Left me waiting and getting more and more bored and more and more sober by the breem. Amazing what a good purge can do, I almost didn't have a headache.
Almost.
So by the time badass showed up, I was getting a little... twitchy. Hangover plus boredom does that to me. It's not like I got a slow processor, I need to be entertained.
And entertain me he did. Not that this is what he was trying to do.
He pulled the threatening routine too; didn't touch me, just went on and on about how I knew stuff that he needed to know, and how if I didn't tell him then some pretty bad scrap would happen. Like I cared.
I must admit, I wasn't exactly paying attention. He had this weird notch on his lower lip, and this sliver of metal that just kept bobbing around as he talked. What? I'm easily distracted. I just wanted to rip that sucker right off. And his head too, maybe his legs...
Then he activated this holo-projection, showed another cell, and actually managed to get my attention for all of four astroseconds. Contents of the other cell was three massive, hulking mechs and one tiny little tech-bot cowering on his knees on the floor.
Thinks-He's-A-Badass asked me if I knew who tiny was. I said yeah, no point in lying. He was an audio technician worked for Nebula, a comms specialist we sometimes bought scrap from. He used to tag along when I was drinking. Told good jokes.
When I didn't play along on their nice little intel-gathering mission, Badass had his thugs tear tech-bot's arms off.
I, uh, I don't think they expected me to find that as funny as I did. I mean frag, one of the lines stayed attached and made his fingers do this little dance! Can't tell me that ain't something to laugh about.
His technique was scrap - Badass that is. Didn't know squat about psychology. I think he thought if he went far enough, if he got his thugs to do enough to the tech-bot, I'd tell him what he wanted to know.
Yeah, right.
I didn't. I did purge again though, which was kinda funny in itself. He got his hulkers to take out tech-bot's primary fuel pump, which was a bit dull - seen one on that model, you've seen 'em all - but then Badass thought I wasn't paying close enough attention. Which I wasn't. So he grabbed me by the rotor hub and... Yeah, that thing's linked to my equilibrium chip. Cue one queasy copter, and energon all over the desk.
He wasn't happy.
Frag, I wasn't too pleased by that point, I’d also purged all over my knees. But I quickly got happier when I worked out that him yankin' on my hub like that had snapped one of the bonds. And he was too busy yellin' to notice that my hands weren't quite as still as they should have been.
Badass finally got himself under control. Took a while though, long enough for me to work out exactly where the rest of the chain was, and how to shrug it off soon as I wanted to stand up.
I gave it a while. His discomfort was kinda fascinating, unlike his diatribe. He couldn't work me out, kept telling me it was my fault what his mechs were doing to the tech-bot. Kept trying to shift the blame, get me to accept that I was culpable.
Like I hadn't pulled that trick on more mechs than I can be bothered to remember. And made it work.
But he had the wrong subject. There's a few kind of people you can't pull this one on, no matter who you got as a victim. Zealots, and people who think that showing someone the contents of their laser core is a recreational activity.
You guess what category I come under.
I gave little tech-bot the dignity of at least paying attention while he found his way to the eternal scrapyard. Which is more than I'd usually do, but hey, the guy told good jokes.
Badass, sadly, wasn't quite as amusing. Not without tech-bot. He was too tense to carry on, and he knew it. He was all set to head off and leave me on my poor little lonesome, when there was a fraggin' almighty crash from somewhere on the upper levels.
Onslaught always did like to make an entrance.
And that was my cue. Knew it was the boss 'cause Badass's comm snapped on, all these mechs yellin' about how Ons was here and he was seriously torqued.
So I slipped outta the chains and had myself a little explosive fun with Badass. Only a little, though; it doesn't do well to keep Onslaught waiting.