The giftfic arriveth!
Title: Twister
Setting: G1, just after the end of season 2
Characters/pairings: Blades/Vortex, implied Starscream/Skywarp/Thundercracker, and a supporting cast of several.
Disclaimer: Um... not mine? Just for fun!
Rating: R
Content Advice: slash, storm!kink, plug ‘n’ play, non-con, bondage/S&M, towering egos, violence, porn without much of a plot
Summary: Two helicopters - one Protectobot, one Combaticon - one big storm, one hell of a crash, and the aftermath.
Notes: Giftfic for naboru_narluin, who requested Blades/Vortex ;-) The gestalt bond concept is very strongly based on that developed by mdperera in her wonderful Stunticon fics (which everyone should go read if they haven’t already), and is used with permission (thankyou!).
(For my reference - the other places I crossposted it: here and here).
"There's been a severe weather warning," Jazz said. "Tornado country." He lay a datapad carefully on Optimus's desk. "Think we should alert the Protectobots?"
Optimus nodded. "The humans will almost certainly need help. Tell them to roll out."
* * *
Vortex chugged his energon, set the cube down carefully on the table, and made his way altogether too calmly towards the rec room door.
Swindle's optics flared. "Where are you going?" he demanded.
"Supercellular tornado!" Vortex snarled with a vicious gleeful grin.
Swindle watched him leave, head cocked to one side. "Huh?"
Dead End leant against the wall, polishing his knuckles. "He's stalking the elite trine," he said softly.
"And?"
"They're off to go do that thing seekers do in big electrical storms," Dead End explained.
Swindle shook his head slowly.
"He's your team mate," Dead End said slowly, using the tone he reserved for morons and combiner teams that weren’t his own. "Use your gestalt bond."
"What, with Vortex?" Swindle sounded shocked. "Are you insane?"
* * *
Vortex lost them almost immediately, three gleaming blurs speeding into the cold grey sky. He took off quickly from the Nemesis's tower, but his alt mode was no match for a jet, let alone Starscream’s trine. It didn't matter, though. He saw where they were headed; if he kept on in that direction, he'd find them soon enough.
* * *
Blades hovered in an irregular zigzag, riding the gale. Potential buzzed through his every cable; static charge crawled across his armour. High winds and pounding rain, the zip of and zing of lightning; just his kind of weather. The other Protectobots drove cautiously, clinging to the tarmac, but he had the sky, and the sky had him. It made his team mates nervous, their concern rippling through the gestalt bond, but he reassured them with an echo of his elation.
The team split up. No Decepticon activity, so Defensor was unlikely to be useful. Fire and flood and flying livestock, collapsing houses and broken bridges, a hundred separate disasters occurring wherever the twisters formed. The team could do far more about that as individuals than they ever could combined.
Blades flew low, helping where he was needed, passing by where he was not. He stayed in his alt mode, following the major roads, spotting opportunities and seizing them. It was dramatic and exhilarating and heroic, and Blades loved every astrosecond.
* * *
Autobots. Slag. Vortex climbed, concealed within the clouds. No sign of the seekers, but this was certainly the place. Everything about it was right. The air pressure, the wind speed, the low-flying debris. Everything except the Autobots, but they seemed to be preoccupied playing with squishies.
Vortex couldn't see the point in that. Squishies were small, tricky to handle, and they broke easily. Give him a good old-fashioned Cybertronian mech any day. So much more durable.
A strong wind shoved him. He sighed as the quick air screamed against his sensors. He almost wished Blast Off was here, but it was so hard to match their speeds, the shuttle and the helicopter; it would never have been worth it.
Thinking of speed, the seekers were here somewhere… Vortex whirled, slicing through the wind, and whooped with joy to be thrust sideways several dozen feet in defiance of his frantically whirring blades. Yeah, that’s what he came for. That and the seekers, hidden in the clouds.
Another gust battered him. He lost altitude with a violent lurch, then gained it on an updraft. He stopped his rotors for one glorious moment of free-fall, all the fuel in his tanks thrust giddily upwards, then cut them in again, forcing himself into the heart of the storm.
And what a storm! His visual sensors offlined sporadically, and all his delicate human-made instruments ceased to work. The air pushed him this way and that, probing chill fingers into his cockpit and the minute gaps of his transformation seams. Once, he thought he caught a glimpse of red and white, tumbling through the cloud. Starscream finally, but then it was gone and Vortex was spinning, guided by the wind, twisting and turning, rain-soaked and bombarded by a thousand shards of human debris.
Another flash of red, the fleeting echo of a scream. Vortex tried to follow, but the twister gripped him, slamming him around and around in a violent spiral. Each turn brought a new shock, each impact blazing a path to his laser core. His sensors hummed and his circuits rang. He was a mosaic of tiny wounds, each one singing hot and vibrant with accumulating charge.
Something big slammed into him, sending him spinning to the ground. He transformed on impact, shrieking high and loud as his rotors were wrenched from his back. Molten agony speared through him, a glut of pleasure-pain assailing him with wave after wave of roaring ecstasy.
He bucked and sprawled on the filthy wet earth. Convulsing with the echoes of his overload, Vortex cried out with each fresh aftershock until finally the world turned to black.
* * *
Blades awoke to a universe of pain. He was sitting upright in root mode, legs sprawled in front of him, one arm dangling uselessly by his side. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t sting or ache or twinge, shooting nasty little jolts through his circuits and making him wish he was still offline.
He ran a thorough systems check. Everything was working properly. Everything except his optics. He rebooted them twice, but it made no difference, he continued to see nothing but grey and distant dark shapes. It took him a while to recognise that the grey was from the storm, pelting rain and hail ricocheting from his armour. His audio sensors kicked in soon after and he moaned, processor spinning. So much for his diagnostics.
He activated his communicator. It made a disconcerting shrill whine, but he tried it anyway. "Blades to Hot Spot." No response. "Blades to Hot Spot, do you read me?" He waited, still nothing. Even worse, he couldn’t focus long enough to reach through the gestalt bond to the other Protectobots. "Gah!" He tried to stand, but the mere effort of leaning forward blasted his back struts and made it feel as though Devastator was tearing out his rotor assembly with his bare fists.
Blades jumped, startled, as a keening moan began immediately behind him, a whine as shrill as his broken communicator, but one that congealed after a while into words.
"Not yet not yet not yet too soon!"
"Oh slag," Blades swore; he knew that voice. Reflexively, he tried to run, but succeeded only in heaving himself about a foot along the soggy ground.
"ARGHHHHH! I said too soon! What the pit is wrong with you?"
Blades slapped himself on the helm, hoping it might jog his processor into some semblance of working order. Too soon? What the frag? And why hadn’t Vortex killed him already?
He needed to turn around, to face the enemy. He needed a plan, a weapon, his photon pistol! But it wasn’t on his arm. It was lying in a puddle about fifty feet away, beside something that looked very much like a broken rifle in Decepticon colours.
"Mmmm, that’s better," Vortex sighed. Blades felt a weight settle against his back and realised that the Combaticon was leaning on him.
"Hey, get off!" he yelled, but Vortex squirmed, rubbing uncomfortably against the raw base of his rotor array. "Stop that! Get away from me!"
"Hmmm? Can’t," Vortex said. He sounded as though he was smiling.
A cold dread settled around Blades’ core. "What do you mean, can’t?"
"We’re stuck." Vortex laughed softly. There was something strange about him, Blades thought; he was subdued, mellow. Probably got hit a bit too hard when they crashed. "We’re all twisted together. You can’t move; I can’t move. We’re stuck. Now stop wriggling around and let me enjoy this."
Blades shifted his weight, relieving the pressure on his sore rotors.
Vortex hissed. "Slagger, I said stop moving!"
"Why?" Blades asked, more out of a need to be antagonistic than any desire to actually know.
"‘Cause I can’t feel much when you do that. Just wait," Vortex said. He sighed, still and calm. "That’s better. Mmmmm, so nice…"
"What! I’m not doing anything, don’t say things like that!" Blades considered knocking himself offline, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it with a Decepticon stuck to his back.
"That reminds me,” Vortex drawled. “Vortex to the Nemesis. Hey, someone pick up, I’ve caught an Autobot!"
"Soundwave responding." It was faint and a little tinny, but that voice was unmistakable. Blades shuddered, and to his horror Vortex’s engine purred.
"Hey, Soundwave, tell Screamer to come get me, yeah?"
"Starscream unavailable," Soundwave replied. "State your location."
"Uh," Vortex paused. "The storm?" he hazarded. "Where Screamer went. Over the big place, continent thing. The one with mountains all up and down it. Got a desert in the middle and loads of squishies."
"How precise," Soundwave commented. "Which Autobot?"
"Hey!" Vortex elbowed Blades in the back, causing his optics to flicker. "You’re a Protectowhatsit, yeah? What’s your name?"
"Frag you," Blades snapped.
"In a minute," Vortex shot back. Then, to Soundwave. "Defensor’s right arm, whatever he’s called."
"Activate your distress beacon. Soundwave out."
Vortex giggled long and hard, until the frustration became too much and Blades wrenched at their twisted rotors.
"Mmmmmm, the feeling’s coming back," Vortex commented. Blades growled, willing the photon pistol closer so that he could aim behind himself and shoot the slagger. He spotted a tree branch near his foot and tried to hook it.
"You ever get fragged so well you can’t feel anything afterwards?" Vortex asked.
Blades froze. "Huh?"
"Y’know, when all the little circuits decide they’ve had enough and close themselves off. No more sensory input, and everything’s just… numb for a bit."
"Um, no," Blades said.
Vortex shifted. "That’s depressing."
"What! Why?" Blades shook his head. "On second thoughts, just shut up, all right?"
"You like your mechs quiet, huh?" Vortex said. "I don’t." The muzzy contentment was beginning to drain from his voice. "I’m bored, let’s frag."
"What? No!" Blades caught the branch on the very end of his foot and flipped it into the air, trying his best not to let the shock echo through his armour. It landed on his helm with a clang that was lost in the wail of the wind.
"Awww, c’mon. I’ve fragged plenty of Autobots. We’ve got a while before the big guns show up, might as well have some fun."
Fun, yeah. From the ‘con who seemed to have overloaded because he crashed. Blades suppressed a shudder.
"Tasty. When I get you back to base, I’ll make you wish you’d said yes…"
"I thoroughly doubt that," Blades said. His open comm. line still whined, every so often hissing with static. He hoped Teletraan One was picking him up, even if he couldn’t hear anything in return.
"Hey!" Vortex yelled. Blades gasped and looked around. The other ‘cons, it must be. But something prodded him on the hip, and he looked down to find that Vortex had somehow twisted one arm behind himself, and was grasping for something to take hold of. "Hehehehehe, nice aft."
Trying to calm his engine, Blades picked up the branch and reached out. It was about ten feet too short.
Vortex snickered nastily. "I wonder where you access ports are…"
"Get offa me!" Blades yelled, whacking Vortex hard on the fingers. But Vortex only laughed, and his armour seemed to heat up just a little.
"Make me."
Blades paused; there was more than a hint of lust in that tone, and he didn’t like it one bit.
"I’ll give you a hint," Vortex purred. "Pull my fingers back, stretch the joints…" But before Blades could think of a response, his communicator buzzed into working order.
* * *
"Ark to Blades, come in Blades." Red Alert adjusted the frequency on Teletraan One's transmitter. "Blades, come in. Can you hear me?"
"Red?" The response was faint, drowning in static.
"Blades, thank goodness, are you all right?"
"Um..." There was a pause. "... could say that. Systems are mostly fine. Can't talk much, stuck to a 'con."
A second, fainter voice emerged through the crackling, and Red felt the energon freeze in his pipes. "Hahahahahaha! Too right you are!" Vortex; oh no.
Red muted the transmitter and hailed Optimus. "Sir," he said. "We have a problem."
"Red?" Blades called, the slightest edge of panic in his voice. "Blades to Red Alert, you there?"
"What's the matter?" Vortex said. "They abandon you?"
Red flicked the transmitter switch. "I'm here, Blades. What's your position?"
"Missionary!" Vortex's scratchy voice dissolved into manic giggling.
On the other side of the command room, Spike choked on his drink and Bee snickered.
"Gah! Do you even know what that means?” Blades cried. “That's not even... Shut up, just shut up!"
"Blades, we're coming for you." Red Alert spoke calmly, while his fingers twisted dials and flicked switches. "State your location."
"Hahahahaha, they don't know!" Vortex screeched. "I'm takin' you home, Autobot!"
"Slag you!" Blades yelled. Red gave Bumblebee a look, hoping that he'd take Spike away, but the little yellow bot didn't seem to get the hint.
Blades snarled, and Red thought he heard the scream of grinding metal. A piercing shriek tore through the static, covering the swoosh of the command centre doors.
"Red Alert, report," Optimus said, as the shriek became a wail and then a cry of "Oh Primus, oh Primus! Yesyesyesyesyes!"
"Bumblebee," Optimus said through the noise. "Isn't it about time you were on patrol? Spike can go with you."
"I'm not on patrol for-"
"Now, Bumblebee," Optimus said. Bee slumped, but complied. They were gone by the time the wailing stopped. In its wake, Blades' voice seemed even smaller.
"Vortex is offline. I hope he’s in stasis lock. I can talk, but I don't know how long for."
Optimus paused before responding. "I'm not going to ask what you just did," he said.
"I'd appreciate that, sir."
"Do you know where you are?" Red Alert said.
"I'm in some kind of industrial complex, abandoned," Blades replied. "Near Lawton, Oklahoma. South by south east of the airport, not sure how far. Vortex has no idea where we are. He's been in contact with Soundwave; that was maybe five minutes ago. He has a distress beacon. Weather's still bad here, limited visibility."
"Understood," Red replied. He found a grid reference and transmitted the approximate coordinates to everyone within range. "Help's on its way."
"Thanks, Red."
"What happened?" Optimus asked.
"I got caught in a twister, a really big one, decided to ride it out. Turns out I wasn't alone." Blades huffed, his voice ringing with frustration. "We crashed, got our rotors caught up. They're all knotted, I think his are hanging on by a cable or two, but I can’t break free. Can't transform, can hardly move."
"Understood. Any other damage?"
"Only psychological," Blades said. "The slagger won't shut up."
"Wha' wassat?" Vortex mumbled, his voice almost lost under the hiss of white noise and the grind of the wind.
"Optimus," Blades said, and the connection died.
* * *
"Optimus?" The Autobot wouldn't give up; tenacious little slagger. "Red Alert, do you copy?"
"They can't hear you," Vortex said in a sing-song voice. The rain was easing, but the wind still howled. A strong gust spun their rotors, bringing the damaged ends into view. Blades let out a strangled groan. Vortex grinned. "Mmmm, that was good... What's that thing you Autobots do?" Blades didn't respond. "Reciprocation, that’s it. I should reciprocate. What's this?" He pulled at a paddle with sore fingers, tugging hard on the flat metal. A delicious jolt of pain shot along the rotor and down his back struts. "Hehehehe, that's mine!"
"You can't tell which one's yours?" Blades sighed. "Oh for Sigma’s sake."
"How about... this one?" Reaching up, he tugged on the one next to it.
"ARGHH, stop that, you rusted pile of junk!"
Vortex's grin widened. "What a filthy mouth you’ve got," he said. "What about this?" He felt Blades tense behind him, warm metal against his back. Supporting the fractured rotor in his left hand, he dragged the very tips of his fingers gently along the paddle's blunt edge.
"Stop that," Blades snapped. "I mean it."
"Hmmm, is it just me, or do I detect a slight increase in temperature?"
"I said stop that!"
"But I want to do something for you," Vortex pouted. "After all, you did something for me. And it’s boring out here." He retracted his battle mask and brought the paddle to his mouth. "Tell me how this feels." He nibbled on the edge, teasing the sensor nodes.
"Arg, stop it!" The other ‘copter was tense, probably had his head back, optics dimmed or offline altogether. Keeping the paddle in his mouth, Vortex reached back and dragged the very tips of his fingers along the seam between the Autobot’s right hip and his abdomen. Blades spasmed, tugging at their rotors, and clasped frantically at Vortex’s fingers. Only his left arm appeared to be working, interesting… Sucking hard on the very end of the paddle, Vortex explored with his hand, following the slender lines of the transformation seams as far up as he could reach.
"What’s this?" he said, as Blades scraped at his hand. He felt the edge of a panel, dug a claw underneath, and heard Blades cry out as the covering opened. "An access port!"
"ARGHHH, you psychotic blasted fragger, stop that!" Blades cried, finally getting a grip on Vortex’s wrist. Vortex felt his joints grind, but the tiny sensor relays were still isolated after his last overload, and all the sensation they sent him was a numb and disappointing pressure. Still, at least the Autobot was getting into it.
Vortex let the paddle go and selected the next of Blades’ rotors, cradling the damaged end and scraping his glossa lightly over the exposed wiring. "Say pretty please."
"I’m not going to plead with you," Blades said, as his fans began to whir. He snarled, tightening his grip, and Vortex moaned as a dozen tiny cogs in his wrist sheared out of place.
"Ah! That’s more like it!" Vortex sighed. He channelled the vibrations from his vocaliser through the twisted rotor. "Can First Aid feel this?"
"What?" Blades gasped, and his temperature climbed a little more.
"Do you share it with your team" - Vortex blew a gentle stream of air over the nodes - "The sensations. First Aid always looks so… fragile."
"You keep away from him!" Blades gasped. Oh yes, the Autobot was charged, judging by the heat of his armour, and the irregular, hitching growl of his engine. Good.
"My team don’t share that stuff with me," Vortex said. He worked his denta along the unbroken edge of Blades’ rotor. When the ‘copter didn’t answer - didn’t even move - Vortex sucked gently on the metal, holding it in place with his glossa while he reached down to his own interface panel. "It’s their loss." Blades had frozen, only the wheeze of air through his vents and the occasional stifled gasp giving any indication that he was conscious. That would never do; Vortex liked his partners loud.
Carefully, Vortex wound the loose, frayed wires from Blades’ broken sensor array around the business end of his interface cable. It sparked, fizzing in the dying rain, and Vortex sent a small pulse of energy across the link, just enough to see if the circuit would hold.
"What… are you doing?" Blades demanded.
Vortex sent a rather larger pulse, and the recoil buzzed right through him. He whooped, the rotor blade springing from his mouth.
Blades moaned. "Oh no, you’ve got to be kidding me… Gah!"
"Oh yesssss," Vortex whispered, as pulse after pulse of pure, blazing energy sang along the connection. Each oscillation crashed into the Autobot and lashed straight back at him, fractured and stinging, like brake fluid poured into an open wound. The sensor array wasn’t meant for this, but slag it was working!
The Autobot convulsed, screaming, dragging Vortex with him into the fastest overload he’d had since Screamer broke him out of prison. It wasn’t as good as earlier, but Sigma, it was still good.
"I hate you," Blades said, his vocalisations hoarse. "I absolutely fraggin’ hate you."
"You’re welcome," Vortex giggled, riding the aftershocks as the wires in Blades’ broken rotor finally crumbled into fragments and his interface cable dropped into his lap. Contented, Vortex replaced his battle mask and glanced around. No sign of the other ‘cons yet, useless fraggers. "Come on," he sighed. "You can’t tell me that didn’t get you off."
Blades muttered something Vortex didn’t catch, and strained away from him. "Hmm?" Vortex queried, then wailed with exhausted glee as the Protectobot heaved, and the final connections between Vortex and his rotor assembly snapped. The Autobot howled, spinning away across the muddy ground. Vortex slid to the dirt, a hot gush of energon spilling down his back.
"Slag!" Blades swore, and Vortex grinned up into the barrel of his photon pistol. It was smoking. Blades pulled the trigger again and again, but to no effect.
"Nice try," Vortex said, and kicked, sweeping Blades’ feet out from under him. Blades crashed on his aft, a scowl of complete and utter loathing twisting his faceplates. Vortex snickered, not bothering to sit, let alone stand.
"Want to know something?" he said, propping his head on his unbroken hand.
"No," Blades snarled. The low grumble of ground-based engines could just be detected through the falling wind. Blades stood, glancing warily at the sky, and backed away. His dead arm hung limp and useless, swinging around in a way that made Vortex want to yank it off.
"Well, I’m going to tell you anyway." Vortex said. "I like to bring two things to my enemies, the ones I don't have the time to enjoy properly. Want to know what they are?"
Blades glared, mouth curled in a snarl. "Pain and more pain?" he spat.
Vortex smiled wide behind his battle mask. "Shame and regret," he sneered. "It’s my gift. Enjoy."
"Crazy glitch," Blades said, but his snarl had vanished, replaced by an altogether less pleasant triumphant grin. Vortex turned to face the oncoming groundpounders, a queasy unease bubbling in his near-empty tanks. Red and blue, white and yellow. No purple, no green. Oh slag, that wasn’t his gestalt. Vortex cursed his team mates’ prissy isolation from their gestalt bond and growled in frustration as Blades chose just that moment to kick him hard in the back. His optics shorted, flashing a prismatic mosaic coloured by the dizziness of energy loss.
When they came back online, Vortex found himself staring into the massive and perfectly functioning barrels of both of Ironhide’s largest guns.
"Oh frag."
Setting: G1, just after the end of season 2
Characters/pairings: Blades/Vortex, implied Starscream/Skywarp/Thundercracker, and a supporting cast of several.
Disclaimer: Um... not mine? Just for fun!
Rating: R
Content Advice: slash, storm!kink, plug ‘n’ play, non-con, bondage/S&M, towering egos, violence, porn without much of a plot
Summary: Two helicopters - one Protectobot, one Combaticon - one big storm, one hell of a crash, and the aftermath.
Notes: Giftfic for naboru_narluin, who requested Blades/Vortex ;-) The gestalt bond concept is very strongly based on that developed by mdperera in her wonderful Stunticon fics (which everyone should go read if they haven’t already), and is used with permission (thankyou!).
(For my reference - the other places I crossposted it: here and here).
"There's been a severe weather warning," Jazz said. "Tornado country." He lay a datapad carefully on Optimus's desk. "Think we should alert the Protectobots?"
Optimus nodded. "The humans will almost certainly need help. Tell them to roll out."
* * *
Vortex chugged his energon, set the cube down carefully on the table, and made his way altogether too calmly towards the rec room door.
Swindle's optics flared. "Where are you going?" he demanded.
"Supercellular tornado!" Vortex snarled with a vicious gleeful grin.
Swindle watched him leave, head cocked to one side. "Huh?"
Dead End leant against the wall, polishing his knuckles. "He's stalking the elite trine," he said softly.
"And?"
"They're off to go do that thing seekers do in big electrical storms," Dead End explained.
Swindle shook his head slowly.
"He's your team mate," Dead End said slowly, using the tone he reserved for morons and combiner teams that weren’t his own. "Use your gestalt bond."
"What, with Vortex?" Swindle sounded shocked. "Are you insane?"
* * *
Vortex lost them almost immediately, three gleaming blurs speeding into the cold grey sky. He took off quickly from the Nemesis's tower, but his alt mode was no match for a jet, let alone Starscream’s trine. It didn't matter, though. He saw where they were headed; if he kept on in that direction, he'd find them soon enough.
* * *
Blades hovered in an irregular zigzag, riding the gale. Potential buzzed through his every cable; static charge crawled across his armour. High winds and pounding rain, the zip of and zing of lightning; just his kind of weather. The other Protectobots drove cautiously, clinging to the tarmac, but he had the sky, and the sky had him. It made his team mates nervous, their concern rippling through the gestalt bond, but he reassured them with an echo of his elation.
The team split up. No Decepticon activity, so Defensor was unlikely to be useful. Fire and flood and flying livestock, collapsing houses and broken bridges, a hundred separate disasters occurring wherever the twisters formed. The team could do far more about that as individuals than they ever could combined.
Blades flew low, helping where he was needed, passing by where he was not. He stayed in his alt mode, following the major roads, spotting opportunities and seizing them. It was dramatic and exhilarating and heroic, and Blades loved every astrosecond.
* * *
Autobots. Slag. Vortex climbed, concealed within the clouds. No sign of the seekers, but this was certainly the place. Everything about it was right. The air pressure, the wind speed, the low-flying debris. Everything except the Autobots, but they seemed to be preoccupied playing with squishies.
Vortex couldn't see the point in that. Squishies were small, tricky to handle, and they broke easily. Give him a good old-fashioned Cybertronian mech any day. So much more durable.
A strong wind shoved him. He sighed as the quick air screamed against his sensors. He almost wished Blast Off was here, but it was so hard to match their speeds, the shuttle and the helicopter; it would never have been worth it.
Thinking of speed, the seekers were here somewhere… Vortex whirled, slicing through the wind, and whooped with joy to be thrust sideways several dozen feet in defiance of his frantically whirring blades. Yeah, that’s what he came for. That and the seekers, hidden in the clouds.
Another gust battered him. He lost altitude with a violent lurch, then gained it on an updraft. He stopped his rotors for one glorious moment of free-fall, all the fuel in his tanks thrust giddily upwards, then cut them in again, forcing himself into the heart of the storm.
And what a storm! His visual sensors offlined sporadically, and all his delicate human-made instruments ceased to work. The air pushed him this way and that, probing chill fingers into his cockpit and the minute gaps of his transformation seams. Once, he thought he caught a glimpse of red and white, tumbling through the cloud. Starscream finally, but then it was gone and Vortex was spinning, guided by the wind, twisting and turning, rain-soaked and bombarded by a thousand shards of human debris.
Another flash of red, the fleeting echo of a scream. Vortex tried to follow, but the twister gripped him, slamming him around and around in a violent spiral. Each turn brought a new shock, each impact blazing a path to his laser core. His sensors hummed and his circuits rang. He was a mosaic of tiny wounds, each one singing hot and vibrant with accumulating charge.
Something big slammed into him, sending him spinning to the ground. He transformed on impact, shrieking high and loud as his rotors were wrenched from his back. Molten agony speared through him, a glut of pleasure-pain assailing him with wave after wave of roaring ecstasy.
He bucked and sprawled on the filthy wet earth. Convulsing with the echoes of his overload, Vortex cried out with each fresh aftershock until finally the world turned to black.
* * *
Blades awoke to a universe of pain. He was sitting upright in root mode, legs sprawled in front of him, one arm dangling uselessly by his side. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t sting or ache or twinge, shooting nasty little jolts through his circuits and making him wish he was still offline.
He ran a thorough systems check. Everything was working properly. Everything except his optics. He rebooted them twice, but it made no difference, he continued to see nothing but grey and distant dark shapes. It took him a while to recognise that the grey was from the storm, pelting rain and hail ricocheting from his armour. His audio sensors kicked in soon after and he moaned, processor spinning. So much for his diagnostics.
He activated his communicator. It made a disconcerting shrill whine, but he tried it anyway. "Blades to Hot Spot." No response. "Blades to Hot Spot, do you read me?" He waited, still nothing. Even worse, he couldn’t focus long enough to reach through the gestalt bond to the other Protectobots. "Gah!" He tried to stand, but the mere effort of leaning forward blasted his back struts and made it feel as though Devastator was tearing out his rotor assembly with his bare fists.
Blades jumped, startled, as a keening moan began immediately behind him, a whine as shrill as his broken communicator, but one that congealed after a while into words.
"Not yet not yet not yet too soon!"
"Oh slag," Blades swore; he knew that voice. Reflexively, he tried to run, but succeeded only in heaving himself about a foot along the soggy ground.
"ARGHHHHH! I said too soon! What the pit is wrong with you?"
Blades slapped himself on the helm, hoping it might jog his processor into some semblance of working order. Too soon? What the frag? And why hadn’t Vortex killed him already?
He needed to turn around, to face the enemy. He needed a plan, a weapon, his photon pistol! But it wasn’t on his arm. It was lying in a puddle about fifty feet away, beside something that looked very much like a broken rifle in Decepticon colours.
"Mmmm, that’s better," Vortex sighed. Blades felt a weight settle against his back and realised that the Combaticon was leaning on him.
"Hey, get off!" he yelled, but Vortex squirmed, rubbing uncomfortably against the raw base of his rotor array. "Stop that! Get away from me!"
"Hmmm? Can’t," Vortex said. He sounded as though he was smiling.
A cold dread settled around Blades’ core. "What do you mean, can’t?"
"We’re stuck." Vortex laughed softly. There was something strange about him, Blades thought; he was subdued, mellow. Probably got hit a bit too hard when they crashed. "We’re all twisted together. You can’t move; I can’t move. We’re stuck. Now stop wriggling around and let me enjoy this."
Blades shifted his weight, relieving the pressure on his sore rotors.
Vortex hissed. "Slagger, I said stop moving!"
"Why?" Blades asked, more out of a need to be antagonistic than any desire to actually know.
"‘Cause I can’t feel much when you do that. Just wait," Vortex said. He sighed, still and calm. "That’s better. Mmmmm, so nice…"
"What! I’m not doing anything, don’t say things like that!" Blades considered knocking himself offline, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it with a Decepticon stuck to his back.
"That reminds me,” Vortex drawled. “Vortex to the Nemesis. Hey, someone pick up, I’ve caught an Autobot!"
"Soundwave responding." It was faint and a little tinny, but that voice was unmistakable. Blades shuddered, and to his horror Vortex’s engine purred.
"Hey, Soundwave, tell Screamer to come get me, yeah?"
"Starscream unavailable," Soundwave replied. "State your location."
"Uh," Vortex paused. "The storm?" he hazarded. "Where Screamer went. Over the big place, continent thing. The one with mountains all up and down it. Got a desert in the middle and loads of squishies."
"How precise," Soundwave commented. "Which Autobot?"
"Hey!" Vortex elbowed Blades in the back, causing his optics to flicker. "You’re a Protectowhatsit, yeah? What’s your name?"
"Frag you," Blades snapped.
"In a minute," Vortex shot back. Then, to Soundwave. "Defensor’s right arm, whatever he’s called."
"Activate your distress beacon. Soundwave out."
Vortex giggled long and hard, until the frustration became too much and Blades wrenched at their twisted rotors.
"Mmmmmm, the feeling’s coming back," Vortex commented. Blades growled, willing the photon pistol closer so that he could aim behind himself and shoot the slagger. He spotted a tree branch near his foot and tried to hook it.
"You ever get fragged so well you can’t feel anything afterwards?" Vortex asked.
Blades froze. "Huh?"
"Y’know, when all the little circuits decide they’ve had enough and close themselves off. No more sensory input, and everything’s just… numb for a bit."
"Um, no," Blades said.
Vortex shifted. "That’s depressing."
"What! Why?" Blades shook his head. "On second thoughts, just shut up, all right?"
"You like your mechs quiet, huh?" Vortex said. "I don’t." The muzzy contentment was beginning to drain from his voice. "I’m bored, let’s frag."
"What? No!" Blades caught the branch on the very end of his foot and flipped it into the air, trying his best not to let the shock echo through his armour. It landed on his helm with a clang that was lost in the wail of the wind.
"Awww, c’mon. I’ve fragged plenty of Autobots. We’ve got a while before the big guns show up, might as well have some fun."
Fun, yeah. From the ‘con who seemed to have overloaded because he crashed. Blades suppressed a shudder.
"Tasty. When I get you back to base, I’ll make you wish you’d said yes…"
"I thoroughly doubt that," Blades said. His open comm. line still whined, every so often hissing with static. He hoped Teletraan One was picking him up, even if he couldn’t hear anything in return.
"Hey!" Vortex yelled. Blades gasped and looked around. The other ‘cons, it must be. But something prodded him on the hip, and he looked down to find that Vortex had somehow twisted one arm behind himself, and was grasping for something to take hold of. "Hehehehehe, nice aft."
Trying to calm his engine, Blades picked up the branch and reached out. It was about ten feet too short.
Vortex snickered nastily. "I wonder where you access ports are…"
"Get offa me!" Blades yelled, whacking Vortex hard on the fingers. But Vortex only laughed, and his armour seemed to heat up just a little.
"Make me."
Blades paused; there was more than a hint of lust in that tone, and he didn’t like it one bit.
"I’ll give you a hint," Vortex purred. "Pull my fingers back, stretch the joints…" But before Blades could think of a response, his communicator buzzed into working order.
* * *
"Ark to Blades, come in Blades." Red Alert adjusted the frequency on Teletraan One's transmitter. "Blades, come in. Can you hear me?"
"Red?" The response was faint, drowning in static.
"Blades, thank goodness, are you all right?"
"Um..." There was a pause. "... could say that. Systems are mostly fine. Can't talk much, stuck to a 'con."
A second, fainter voice emerged through the crackling, and Red felt the energon freeze in his pipes. "Hahahahahaha! Too right you are!" Vortex; oh no.
Red muted the transmitter and hailed Optimus. "Sir," he said. "We have a problem."
"Red?" Blades called, the slightest edge of panic in his voice. "Blades to Red Alert, you there?"
"What's the matter?" Vortex said. "They abandon you?"
Red flicked the transmitter switch. "I'm here, Blades. What's your position?"
"Missionary!" Vortex's scratchy voice dissolved into manic giggling.
On the other side of the command room, Spike choked on his drink and Bee snickered.
"Gah! Do you even know what that means?” Blades cried. “That's not even... Shut up, just shut up!"
"Blades, we're coming for you." Red Alert spoke calmly, while his fingers twisted dials and flicked switches. "State your location."
"Hahahahaha, they don't know!" Vortex screeched. "I'm takin' you home, Autobot!"
"Slag you!" Blades yelled. Red gave Bumblebee a look, hoping that he'd take Spike away, but the little yellow bot didn't seem to get the hint.
Blades snarled, and Red thought he heard the scream of grinding metal. A piercing shriek tore through the static, covering the swoosh of the command centre doors.
"Red Alert, report," Optimus said, as the shriek became a wail and then a cry of "Oh Primus, oh Primus! Yesyesyesyesyes!"
"Bumblebee," Optimus said through the noise. "Isn't it about time you were on patrol? Spike can go with you."
"I'm not on patrol for-"
"Now, Bumblebee," Optimus said. Bee slumped, but complied. They were gone by the time the wailing stopped. In its wake, Blades' voice seemed even smaller.
"Vortex is offline. I hope he’s in stasis lock. I can talk, but I don't know how long for."
Optimus paused before responding. "I'm not going to ask what you just did," he said.
"I'd appreciate that, sir."
"Do you know where you are?" Red Alert said.
"I'm in some kind of industrial complex, abandoned," Blades replied. "Near Lawton, Oklahoma. South by south east of the airport, not sure how far. Vortex has no idea where we are. He's been in contact with Soundwave; that was maybe five minutes ago. He has a distress beacon. Weather's still bad here, limited visibility."
"Understood," Red replied. He found a grid reference and transmitted the approximate coordinates to everyone within range. "Help's on its way."
"Thanks, Red."
"What happened?" Optimus asked.
"I got caught in a twister, a really big one, decided to ride it out. Turns out I wasn't alone." Blades huffed, his voice ringing with frustration. "We crashed, got our rotors caught up. They're all knotted, I think his are hanging on by a cable or two, but I can’t break free. Can't transform, can hardly move."
"Understood. Any other damage?"
"Only psychological," Blades said. "The slagger won't shut up."
"Wha' wassat?" Vortex mumbled, his voice almost lost under the hiss of white noise and the grind of the wind.
"Optimus," Blades said, and the connection died.
* * *
"Optimus?" The Autobot wouldn't give up; tenacious little slagger. "Red Alert, do you copy?"
"They can't hear you," Vortex said in a sing-song voice. The rain was easing, but the wind still howled. A strong gust spun their rotors, bringing the damaged ends into view. Blades let out a strangled groan. Vortex grinned. "Mmmm, that was good... What's that thing you Autobots do?" Blades didn't respond. "Reciprocation, that’s it. I should reciprocate. What's this?" He pulled at a paddle with sore fingers, tugging hard on the flat metal. A delicious jolt of pain shot along the rotor and down his back struts. "Hehehehe, that's mine!"
"You can't tell which one's yours?" Blades sighed. "Oh for Sigma’s sake."
"How about... this one?" Reaching up, he tugged on the one next to it.
"ARGHH, stop that, you rusted pile of junk!"
Vortex's grin widened. "What a filthy mouth you’ve got," he said. "What about this?" He felt Blades tense behind him, warm metal against his back. Supporting the fractured rotor in his left hand, he dragged the very tips of his fingers gently along the paddle's blunt edge.
"Stop that," Blades snapped. "I mean it."
"Hmmm, is it just me, or do I detect a slight increase in temperature?"
"I said stop that!"
"But I want to do something for you," Vortex pouted. "After all, you did something for me. And it’s boring out here." He retracted his battle mask and brought the paddle to his mouth. "Tell me how this feels." He nibbled on the edge, teasing the sensor nodes.
"Arg, stop it!" The other ‘copter was tense, probably had his head back, optics dimmed or offline altogether. Keeping the paddle in his mouth, Vortex reached back and dragged the very tips of his fingers along the seam between the Autobot’s right hip and his abdomen. Blades spasmed, tugging at their rotors, and clasped frantically at Vortex’s fingers. Only his left arm appeared to be working, interesting… Sucking hard on the very end of the paddle, Vortex explored with his hand, following the slender lines of the transformation seams as far up as he could reach.
"What’s this?" he said, as Blades scraped at his hand. He felt the edge of a panel, dug a claw underneath, and heard Blades cry out as the covering opened. "An access port!"
"ARGHHH, you psychotic blasted fragger, stop that!" Blades cried, finally getting a grip on Vortex’s wrist. Vortex felt his joints grind, but the tiny sensor relays were still isolated after his last overload, and all the sensation they sent him was a numb and disappointing pressure. Still, at least the Autobot was getting into it.
Vortex let the paddle go and selected the next of Blades’ rotors, cradling the damaged end and scraping his glossa lightly over the exposed wiring. "Say pretty please."
"I’m not going to plead with you," Blades said, as his fans began to whir. He snarled, tightening his grip, and Vortex moaned as a dozen tiny cogs in his wrist sheared out of place.
"Ah! That’s more like it!" Vortex sighed. He channelled the vibrations from his vocaliser through the twisted rotor. "Can First Aid feel this?"
"What?" Blades gasped, and his temperature climbed a little more.
"Do you share it with your team" - Vortex blew a gentle stream of air over the nodes - "The sensations. First Aid always looks so… fragile."
"You keep away from him!" Blades gasped. Oh yes, the Autobot was charged, judging by the heat of his armour, and the irregular, hitching growl of his engine. Good.
"My team don’t share that stuff with me," Vortex said. He worked his denta along the unbroken edge of Blades’ rotor. When the ‘copter didn’t answer - didn’t even move - Vortex sucked gently on the metal, holding it in place with his glossa while he reached down to his own interface panel. "It’s their loss." Blades had frozen, only the wheeze of air through his vents and the occasional stifled gasp giving any indication that he was conscious. That would never do; Vortex liked his partners loud.
Carefully, Vortex wound the loose, frayed wires from Blades’ broken sensor array around the business end of his interface cable. It sparked, fizzing in the dying rain, and Vortex sent a small pulse of energy across the link, just enough to see if the circuit would hold.
"What… are you doing?" Blades demanded.
Vortex sent a rather larger pulse, and the recoil buzzed right through him. He whooped, the rotor blade springing from his mouth.
Blades moaned. "Oh no, you’ve got to be kidding me… Gah!"
"Oh yesssss," Vortex whispered, as pulse after pulse of pure, blazing energy sang along the connection. Each oscillation crashed into the Autobot and lashed straight back at him, fractured and stinging, like brake fluid poured into an open wound. The sensor array wasn’t meant for this, but slag it was working!
The Autobot convulsed, screaming, dragging Vortex with him into the fastest overload he’d had since Screamer broke him out of prison. It wasn’t as good as earlier, but Sigma, it was still good.
"I hate you," Blades said, his vocalisations hoarse. "I absolutely fraggin’ hate you."
"You’re welcome," Vortex giggled, riding the aftershocks as the wires in Blades’ broken rotor finally crumbled into fragments and his interface cable dropped into his lap. Contented, Vortex replaced his battle mask and glanced around. No sign of the other ‘cons yet, useless fraggers. "Come on," he sighed. "You can’t tell me that didn’t get you off."
Blades muttered something Vortex didn’t catch, and strained away from him. "Hmm?" Vortex queried, then wailed with exhausted glee as the Protectobot heaved, and the final connections between Vortex and his rotor assembly snapped. The Autobot howled, spinning away across the muddy ground. Vortex slid to the dirt, a hot gush of energon spilling down his back.
"Slag!" Blades swore, and Vortex grinned up into the barrel of his photon pistol. It was smoking. Blades pulled the trigger again and again, but to no effect.
"Nice try," Vortex said, and kicked, sweeping Blades’ feet out from under him. Blades crashed on his aft, a scowl of complete and utter loathing twisting his faceplates. Vortex snickered, not bothering to sit, let alone stand.
"Want to know something?" he said, propping his head on his unbroken hand.
"No," Blades snarled. The low grumble of ground-based engines could just be detected through the falling wind. Blades stood, glancing warily at the sky, and backed away. His dead arm hung limp and useless, swinging around in a way that made Vortex want to yank it off.
"Well, I’m going to tell you anyway." Vortex said. "I like to bring two things to my enemies, the ones I don't have the time to enjoy properly. Want to know what they are?"
Blades glared, mouth curled in a snarl. "Pain and more pain?" he spat.
Vortex smiled wide behind his battle mask. "Shame and regret," he sneered. "It’s my gift. Enjoy."
"Crazy glitch," Blades said, but his snarl had vanished, replaced by an altogether less pleasant triumphant grin. Vortex turned to face the oncoming groundpounders, a queasy unease bubbling in his near-empty tanks. Red and blue, white and yellow. No purple, no green. Oh slag, that wasn’t his gestalt. Vortex cursed his team mates’ prissy isolation from their gestalt bond and growled in frustration as Blades chose just that moment to kick him hard in the back. His optics shorted, flashing a prismatic mosaic coloured by the dizziness of energy loss.
When they came back online, Vortex found himself staring into the massive and perfectly functioning barrels of both of Ironhide’s largest guns.
"Oh frag."