Under Scrutiny 7 - In the Web
Feb. 9th, 2011 01:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
casusfereTitle: Under Scrutiny
Chapter: 7 - In the Web
Rating: R
Warning: Non-explicit death, violence, gore, torture, mentions of sexual situations and cheerful contemplations of all of the preceding. In sum, Vortex.
Universe: G1
Summary: Vortex is being accused of murder, and for once, he didn't do it. Chapter 7 - Back to see Epicenter and getting just a little bit more paranoid. Pre-Earth, Vortex POV.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
I make a few stops before I head back to Photon’s. Like I said, Epi’s the best, but I ain’t trustin’ him with my life. I got some other contacts that I drop in on and set on the trail of some info. Small timers, mostly, in different fields, but right now, there’s some things I just gotta know.
Ain’t been enough time for Epi to have picked up much on what I asked him, but I got a whole new set of questions now. Taplock gives me barely a glance before he hands me a cube and points me towards a table. He’s not surprised to see me back so soon, and I’m not sure I like that.
I pick a different table, with a better view and more cover from the doors. Don’t think Epicenter’d be happy about his place gettin’ turned into a a bust, but I don’t see any reason to trust the fragger. Life’s just easier if you don’t trust anyone.
“Vortex,” Epicenter greets me as he climbs into the opposite seat. “I had not expected to see you for several shifts.”
Well, ain’t that a load of slag. “And why would that be?” I ask, keeping my tone dangerously sweet. “I just love Photon’s work, can’t keep myself away.”
Epicenter smiles politely. “It is just that the information you requested is not complete.”
“Really.” I don’t believe him for a astrosecond. He knows somethin’. He always does.
“And, of course, your commander logged you as on an extended mission not long after our last meeting. I am glad that you found time out to come see Photon’s latest piece.” He makes a gesture to one side, but his optics are focused on me, watching for my reaction.
I’m determined to disappoint him. “It’s stunning.” Like him, my gaze stays focused on the mech across the table. My mind, however, is elsewhere. Extended mission? What the frag? Is Onslaught actually covering for me? The guy ain’t stupid, and you’d have to be stupid to interfere with the Mayhems. The guy don’t even particularly like me much.
“I have been hearing some rumors about you,” Epicenter continues after a moment. “Would you like to shed some light on them?”
Fishing already, Epi? “That’d depend on the rumor.” I wag a rotor. “Can’t go ruining my mystique an’ all.”
“Of course,” Epicenter agrees, too easily. Definitely fishing, then. “What can I do for you today, Vortex?”
Back to business. “I need everything you can dig up on the base commander, and his relationship with the Mayhem on base,” I say.
Epicenter smiles again, as empty a gesture as always. “Everything is quite a bit, Vortex.”
Bad choice of words, Vortex. “His postings, how well they correlate with the data I asked you for earlier. And how he knows Torsion.”
Epicenter’s antenna twitch at the name, and there’s the faintest surprise in his expression before he hides it. “Anything else?” he asks, smooth as can be.
“Yeah,” I say, frowning behind my mask. “You can find out what it is that the Mayhem was doin’ in the city.”
“That will take some effort,” Epicenter says. “Mayhem mission files are classified.”
I don’t bother on commentin’ on the obviousness of that one. “And you can also tell me what he was doin’ on base when all this mess with the body came down.”
Again, that flash of surprise. Was he startled to know that Torsion was there, or that I knew about it? The answer to that might be rather important to my continued state of functioning.
“I will find out your information, and contact you when I have something,” Epicenter said, sliding out of his chair.
For once, I don’t stick around to check out the crowd. All this is makin’ me too nervous, and I ain’t stickin’ around to find out how justified my nervousness is.
Whether he meant to or not, Epi gave me one important piece of information. I ain’t listed as AWOL yet, and Onslaught’s coverin’ for me. That could mean that the Mayhem just ain’t come down on him yet, or he’s actually stonewallin’ him for whatever reason. The why of it, it bothers me. Normally, I ain’t gonna get worked up over little things like that, but today I kinda got a deadline that’ll literally become a dead line if I don’t figure it out fast enough.
The traps I left at the apartment are all still in place. They ain’t the kind that hurt or disable a mech - that’s one of those Autobot story slagpiles. Anyone worth their Intel designation’s gonna tell you that the best kind of traps to leave in your base are the kind no one notices, sprung or otherwise. See, the point ain’t to hurt anyone who wanders in - if you’ve got your hideaway hidden right, how’re they gonna know to not break in? Ideally, the place looks like every other one around it, like this one. So the traps are little things, things that look perfectly normal to be there, but can’t be put back just the way they were if someone does sneak in and rummage around or try to lay an ambush. The little bottlecap that gets pushed by the cupboard door openin’, the nearly-invisible filament wire just barely tucked in the top of the door to snap when it moves, that sorta thing. Mine are all still intact, but I give the whole place a sweep before sittin’ down on the berth.
Frag, frag, frag. Double frag.
I hate waitin’ for results. I can be patient when I need to be, in interrogations or durin’ a standoff. But that ain’t like this. That’s a tinglin’ anticipation, havin’ to kill my rotor controls to stop ‘em from movin’, watchin’ the tension build in the other mech. It changes, it’s visible, it’s y’know, somethin’. This, this is fraggin’ nothing. Waitin’ for word, can’t talk to no one, can’t watch no one for clues on what they’re thinkin’. There’s too many people who I don’t know what they’re up to, and I don’t like that.
Even Onslaught, who was always like clockwork in his predictability, is workin’ off a different script than me. What the frag is he up to? Epi’ll turn on me if it shows up more profitable for him, which it will - I’m good at my job, but ain’t no one that’ll take on a Mayhem for little ol’ me. I’m dancin’ over a smelter here, if you’ll pardon the expression, tryin’ to get the info I need to figure this puzzle out before someone burns me.
I try readin’ some of those reports I picked up before all this happened, but even watchin’ Beastbox screw up interrogations ain’t doin’ it for me. So it’s back to pacing. I fraggin’ hate waiting.
Chapter: 7 - In the Web
Rating: R
Warning: Non-explicit death, violence, gore, torture, mentions of sexual situations and cheerful contemplations of all of the preceding. In sum, Vortex.
Universe: G1
Summary: Vortex is being accused of murder, and for once, he didn't do it. Chapter 7 - Back to see Epicenter and getting just a little bit more paranoid. Pre-Earth, Vortex POV.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
I make a few stops before I head back to Photon’s. Like I said, Epi’s the best, but I ain’t trustin’ him with my life. I got some other contacts that I drop in on and set on the trail of some info. Small timers, mostly, in different fields, but right now, there’s some things I just gotta know.
Ain’t been enough time for Epi to have picked up much on what I asked him, but I got a whole new set of questions now. Taplock gives me barely a glance before he hands me a cube and points me towards a table. He’s not surprised to see me back so soon, and I’m not sure I like that.
I pick a different table, with a better view and more cover from the doors. Don’t think Epicenter’d be happy about his place gettin’ turned into a a bust, but I don’t see any reason to trust the fragger. Life’s just easier if you don’t trust anyone.
“Vortex,” Epicenter greets me as he climbs into the opposite seat. “I had not expected to see you for several shifts.”
Well, ain’t that a load of slag. “And why would that be?” I ask, keeping my tone dangerously sweet. “I just love Photon’s work, can’t keep myself away.”
Epicenter smiles politely. “It is just that the information you requested is not complete.”
“Really.” I don’t believe him for a astrosecond. He knows somethin’. He always does.
“And, of course, your commander logged you as on an extended mission not long after our last meeting. I am glad that you found time out to come see Photon’s latest piece.” He makes a gesture to one side, but his optics are focused on me, watching for my reaction.
I’m determined to disappoint him. “It’s stunning.” Like him, my gaze stays focused on the mech across the table. My mind, however, is elsewhere. Extended mission? What the frag? Is Onslaught actually covering for me? The guy ain’t stupid, and you’d have to be stupid to interfere with the Mayhems. The guy don’t even particularly like me much.
“I have been hearing some rumors about you,” Epicenter continues after a moment. “Would you like to shed some light on them?”
Fishing already, Epi? “That’d depend on the rumor.” I wag a rotor. “Can’t go ruining my mystique an’ all.”
“Of course,” Epicenter agrees, too easily. Definitely fishing, then. “What can I do for you today, Vortex?”
Back to business. “I need everything you can dig up on the base commander, and his relationship with the Mayhem on base,” I say.
Epicenter smiles again, as empty a gesture as always. “Everything is quite a bit, Vortex.”
Bad choice of words, Vortex. “His postings, how well they correlate with the data I asked you for earlier. And how he knows Torsion.”
Epicenter’s antenna twitch at the name, and there’s the faintest surprise in his expression before he hides it. “Anything else?” he asks, smooth as can be.
“Yeah,” I say, frowning behind my mask. “You can find out what it is that the Mayhem was doin’ in the city.”
“That will take some effort,” Epicenter says. “Mayhem mission files are classified.”
I don’t bother on commentin’ on the obviousness of that one. “And you can also tell me what he was doin’ on base when all this mess with the body came down.”
Again, that flash of surprise. Was he startled to know that Torsion was there, or that I knew about it? The answer to that might be rather important to my continued state of functioning.
“I will find out your information, and contact you when I have something,” Epicenter said, sliding out of his chair.
For once, I don’t stick around to check out the crowd. All this is makin’ me too nervous, and I ain’t stickin’ around to find out how justified my nervousness is.
Whether he meant to or not, Epi gave me one important piece of information. I ain’t listed as AWOL yet, and Onslaught’s coverin’ for me. That could mean that the Mayhem just ain’t come down on him yet, or he’s actually stonewallin’ him for whatever reason. The why of it, it bothers me. Normally, I ain’t gonna get worked up over little things like that, but today I kinda got a deadline that’ll literally become a dead line if I don’t figure it out fast enough.
The traps I left at the apartment are all still in place. They ain’t the kind that hurt or disable a mech - that’s one of those Autobot story slagpiles. Anyone worth their Intel designation’s gonna tell you that the best kind of traps to leave in your base are the kind no one notices, sprung or otherwise. See, the point ain’t to hurt anyone who wanders in - if you’ve got your hideaway hidden right, how’re they gonna know to not break in? Ideally, the place looks like every other one around it, like this one. So the traps are little things, things that look perfectly normal to be there, but can’t be put back just the way they were if someone does sneak in and rummage around or try to lay an ambush. The little bottlecap that gets pushed by the cupboard door openin’, the nearly-invisible filament wire just barely tucked in the top of the door to snap when it moves, that sorta thing. Mine are all still intact, but I give the whole place a sweep before sittin’ down on the berth.
Frag, frag, frag. Double frag.
I hate waitin’ for results. I can be patient when I need to be, in interrogations or durin’ a standoff. But that ain’t like this. That’s a tinglin’ anticipation, havin’ to kill my rotor controls to stop ‘em from movin’, watchin’ the tension build in the other mech. It changes, it’s visible, it’s y’know, somethin’. This, this is fraggin’ nothing. Waitin’ for word, can’t talk to no one, can’t watch no one for clues on what they’re thinkin’. There’s too many people who I don’t know what they’re up to, and I don’t like that.
Even Onslaught, who was always like clockwork in his predictability, is workin’ off a different script than me. What the frag is he up to? Epi’ll turn on me if it shows up more profitable for him, which it will - I’m good at my job, but ain’t no one that’ll take on a Mayhem for little ol’ me. I’m dancin’ over a smelter here, if you’ll pardon the expression, tryin’ to get the info I need to figure this puzzle out before someone burns me.
I try readin’ some of those reports I picked up before all this happened, but even watchin’ Beastbox screw up interrogations ain’t doin’ it for me. So it’s back to pacing. I fraggin’ hate waiting.
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Date: 2011-02-09 09:40 pm (UTC)