Fic - Vortex and the Magic 8 Ball
Title: Vortex and the Magic 8 Ball
Continuity: G1, Dysfunction AU (kind of. This is a cracky offshoot that relies on other fics, but doesn't fit in with anything else :P)
Rating: PG-13
Content advice: mild sexual references, implied slash, crack
Characters and/or pairings: implied Blast Off/Vortex, Swindle, Brawl
Summary: The Combaticons have come across a strange artifact, and Onslaught has wisely said that Vortex can’t have it. But that doesn’t stop him.
Notes: Written for the tf_speedwriting prompt The Magnificence.
For naboru_narluin, just because :)
This fic references naboru's wonderful story 'Neverwhere'.
“Swindle.” Blast Off crossed his feet on the table and leveled an accusatory glare at the smallest of his team mates. “What did you do with Vortex?”
“Nothing!” Swindle threw up his arms. “Why do you always think I did something! Frag, it’s like you don’t trust me.”
“We don’t,” Blast Off said. “Where is he?”
Swindle glanced at Brawl, but the tank just shrugged. Looked like he was on his own. “In his room,” he said carefully.
“Really,” Blast Off huffed. His chair creaked as he tilted it back, but his canons remained still. “And what’s he doing there?”
“Um…” Swindle took a few steps back, towards the door. Why did Blast Off always have to get talkative when he wanted to know stuff? He couldn’t just talk to be sociable, oh no, he always had to have a reason.
“What,” Blast Off repeated, “is he doing?”
And he only ever cared about what Vortex was doing when Vortex was doing something wrong. Or when he needed to get laid, but Swindle didn’t want to think about that. Frag Onslaught for leaving them alone together at HQ; Ons only had to be gone half a breem and the shuttle thought he was in charge.
“The frag should I know?” Swindle said. He forcibly stilled his engine. So what if Vortex had the artifact? There wasn’t any rule against it; anything Onslaught said that Swindle only half-heard as their commander drove off into the desert absolutely did not count as a rule. And Vortex had threatened to carve ‘I love squishies’ on his optics - it wasn’t as though Swindle’d had a choice.
Blast Off stood, and Swindle scurried back, but the anticipated blow never came. Instead, the shuttleformer stormed straight past, as though Swindle wasn’t even there.
When he’d gone, Brawl grinned. “You gone and gave Tex the shiny eye thing, din’t ya?”
Swindle sighed and slouched over to the energon dispenser. Today just wasn’t his day. “Yeah.”
* * *
Blast Off didn’t bother knocking. He typed in the override command to Vortex’s lock, and the door obediently hissed open.
Vortex was laying on his back on the bunk, his arms stretched straight up, and a glowing golden ball held between them. He was staring at the focus of the ball, an aperture that looked for all the world like a large organic eye.
“Hey Thrusters,” he said. “This is awesome, you wanna ask it something. Anything.”
“No,” Blast Off said. “And you shouldn’t either.”
“Eh,” Vortex shrugged, and gave the artifact a little shake. “Who gives a frag?” he said.
The eye glanced up briefly before a voice replied, “Your team.”
“They don’t count.” Vortex grinned. “Is Thrusters up for a game of pin the copter against the wall?”
Blast Off’s fists clenched, but the orb answered before he could. “Potentially.”
“Not in the any way you would like,” Blast Off added. “Give me the object.”
Vortex pouted. “Ballie thing, do you want me to give you to the mean ol’ shuttle?”
“No,” the orb responded, and it was an effort for Blast Off not to just snatch it from Vortex’s hands. But the copter would see that coming, and would certainly try to resist. They couldn’t risk the thing getting broken.
“It doesn’t want anything,” Blast Off said. “It isn’t sentient. Now put it down.”
“Not on your life,” Vortex replied, and a hint of vicious defensiveness had entered his tone. “I’m finding slag out, slag you probably forgot we even need to know. You know who sold us out back on Cybertron? You know how Swin got through his time in the box? You know what happened to Sunstorm?”
“No,” Blast Off growled. And he didn’t want to know. The past was the past. Unless that orb could show him the way back to the Golden Age, to a lifeless planet millions of years ago where mercury rained down from the sky, and alien suns carved a path through distant glass mountains, then he didn’t care.
“Well I do.” Vortex sat up, holding the orb close to his chest. “I know where that green shuttle went, the one who used to follow you around. Can you even remember his name?”
Another growl of Blast Off’s engines, and his canons began to whine. “Don’t push me,” he warned.
“Why not?” Vortex’s smirk was vicious. “It’s not like you’ll push yourself.” He dodged as Blast Off lunged, curling around the orb and ducking low to scoot under Blast Off’s arm for the door. But Blast Off spun and seized him by the rotor hub, hauling him up until his feet were off the floor.
Vortex went limp, still curled around the object. “You’re lucky you’re a good frag,” he muttered.
Blast Off almost grinned. “What if I wasn’t?”
“Pray you’ll never find out. Just remember, I know where you recharge.”
“Unfortunately,” Blast Off said. “Now pass me the orb, and I might reconsider my stance on copters and walls.”
“One joor,” Vortex said, and Blast Off made his engine roar. “Half a joor?” Vortex squirmed. “OK, a couple of breems. I didn’t finish asking it stuff! I’m not gonna break it.”
“One breem,” Blast Off said. He set Vortex back on the floor.
“You didn’t have to let go,” Vortex grumbled, shooting Blast Off a sullen look as he flopped back over his bunk. He lay facedown this time, and wiggled his rotors. “OK, ballie thing, I got another question, you ready?”
“Yes,” the orb responded, and Blast Off sighed.
* * *
The breem was soon over, but Vortex relinquished his prize without a fight. He seemed thoughtful, and Blast Off wondered for a moment what secrets he’d learnt and what use he might put them to.
He suppressed a shudder; he was sure he’d soon find out.
As he carried the orb to Onslaught’s office, a thought occurred to him. He looked into the odd, staring eye; one more question couldn’t hurt.
“Tell me, object,” he said. “What happened to the green shuttle?”
Continuity: G1, Dysfunction AU (kind of. This is a cracky offshoot that relies on other fics, but doesn't fit in with anything else :P)
Rating: PG-13
Content advice: mild sexual references, implied slash, crack
Characters and/or pairings: implied Blast Off/Vortex, Swindle, Brawl
Summary: The Combaticons have come across a strange artifact, and Onslaught has wisely said that Vortex can’t have it. But that doesn’t stop him.
Notes: Written for the tf_speedwriting prompt The Magnificence.
For naboru_narluin, just because :)
This fic references naboru's wonderful story 'Neverwhere'.
“Swindle.” Blast Off crossed his feet on the table and leveled an accusatory glare at the smallest of his team mates. “What did you do with Vortex?”
“Nothing!” Swindle threw up his arms. “Why do you always think I did something! Frag, it’s like you don’t trust me.”
“We don’t,” Blast Off said. “Where is he?”
Swindle glanced at Brawl, but the tank just shrugged. Looked like he was on his own. “In his room,” he said carefully.
“Really,” Blast Off huffed. His chair creaked as he tilted it back, but his canons remained still. “And what’s he doing there?”
“Um…” Swindle took a few steps back, towards the door. Why did Blast Off always have to get talkative when he wanted to know stuff? He couldn’t just talk to be sociable, oh no, he always had to have a reason.
“What,” Blast Off repeated, “is he doing?”
And he only ever cared about what Vortex was doing when Vortex was doing something wrong. Or when he needed to get laid, but Swindle didn’t want to think about that. Frag Onslaught for leaving them alone together at HQ; Ons only had to be gone half a breem and the shuttle thought he was in charge.
“The frag should I know?” Swindle said. He forcibly stilled his engine. So what if Vortex had the artifact? There wasn’t any rule against it; anything Onslaught said that Swindle only half-heard as their commander drove off into the desert absolutely did not count as a rule. And Vortex had threatened to carve ‘I love squishies’ on his optics - it wasn’t as though Swindle’d had a choice.
Blast Off stood, and Swindle scurried back, but the anticipated blow never came. Instead, the shuttleformer stormed straight past, as though Swindle wasn’t even there.
When he’d gone, Brawl grinned. “You gone and gave Tex the shiny eye thing, din’t ya?”
Swindle sighed and slouched over to the energon dispenser. Today just wasn’t his day. “Yeah.”
* * *
Blast Off didn’t bother knocking. He typed in the override command to Vortex’s lock, and the door obediently hissed open.
Vortex was laying on his back on the bunk, his arms stretched straight up, and a glowing golden ball held between them. He was staring at the focus of the ball, an aperture that looked for all the world like a large organic eye.
“Hey Thrusters,” he said. “This is awesome, you wanna ask it something. Anything.”
“No,” Blast Off said. “And you shouldn’t either.”
“Eh,” Vortex shrugged, and gave the artifact a little shake. “Who gives a frag?” he said.
The eye glanced up briefly before a voice replied, “Your team.”
“They don’t count.” Vortex grinned. “Is Thrusters up for a game of pin the copter against the wall?”
Blast Off’s fists clenched, but the orb answered before he could. “Potentially.”
“Not in the any way you would like,” Blast Off added. “Give me the object.”
Vortex pouted. “Ballie thing, do you want me to give you to the mean ol’ shuttle?”
“No,” the orb responded, and it was an effort for Blast Off not to just snatch it from Vortex’s hands. But the copter would see that coming, and would certainly try to resist. They couldn’t risk the thing getting broken.
“It doesn’t want anything,” Blast Off said. “It isn’t sentient. Now put it down.”
“Not on your life,” Vortex replied, and a hint of vicious defensiveness had entered his tone. “I’m finding slag out, slag you probably forgot we even need to know. You know who sold us out back on Cybertron? You know how Swin got through his time in the box? You know what happened to Sunstorm?”
“No,” Blast Off growled. And he didn’t want to know. The past was the past. Unless that orb could show him the way back to the Golden Age, to a lifeless planet millions of years ago where mercury rained down from the sky, and alien suns carved a path through distant glass mountains, then he didn’t care.
“Well I do.” Vortex sat up, holding the orb close to his chest. “I know where that green shuttle went, the one who used to follow you around. Can you even remember his name?”
Another growl of Blast Off’s engines, and his canons began to whine. “Don’t push me,” he warned.
“Why not?” Vortex’s smirk was vicious. “It’s not like you’ll push yourself.” He dodged as Blast Off lunged, curling around the orb and ducking low to scoot under Blast Off’s arm for the door. But Blast Off spun and seized him by the rotor hub, hauling him up until his feet were off the floor.
Vortex went limp, still curled around the object. “You’re lucky you’re a good frag,” he muttered.
Blast Off almost grinned. “What if I wasn’t?”
“Pray you’ll never find out. Just remember, I know where you recharge.”
“Unfortunately,” Blast Off said. “Now pass me the orb, and I might reconsider my stance on copters and walls.”
“One joor,” Vortex said, and Blast Off made his engine roar. “Half a joor?” Vortex squirmed. “OK, a couple of breems. I didn’t finish asking it stuff! I’m not gonna break it.”
“One breem,” Blast Off said. He set Vortex back on the floor.
“You didn’t have to let go,” Vortex grumbled, shooting Blast Off a sullen look as he flopped back over his bunk. He lay facedown this time, and wiggled his rotors. “OK, ballie thing, I got another question, you ready?”
“Yes,” the orb responded, and Blast Off sighed.
* * *
The breem was soon over, but Vortex relinquished his prize without a fight. He seemed thoughtful, and Blast Off wondered for a moment what secrets he’d learnt and what use he might put them to.
He suppressed a shudder; he was sure he’d soon find out.
As he carried the orb to Onslaught’s office, a thought occurred to him. He looked into the odd, staring eye; one more question couldn’t hurt.
“Tell me, object,” he said. “What happened to the green shuttle?”