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casusfereTitle: Under Scrutiny
Chapter: 5 - Like a Blade Through the Pump
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 5 - The trip back to base gives Vortex a little too much time to think. Pre-Earth, Vortex POV.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like for everyone else. Y’know, people like the Autobots, or even some of the other Decepticons, those normal people. People who actually feel “bad” if they were to walk up behind their berthmate and shove a blade into his primary fuel pump. Honestly, I don’t even know what that feels like. The “bad” part, not the blade-in-the-pump part, because I’ve had that happen. Done it, too, to the same person.
...Long story.
Anyway, most of the time, I really couldn’t care less about it; it ain’t a virtue, no matter what the wishy-washy people afflicted by it say. Guess they gotta make themselves feel better about the giant target they’re paintin’ or somethin’ like that. But sometimes I wonder.
I ain’t ever felt anything of the sort. Not because somethin’ went wrong in the programmin’, but because they didn’t put it in there on purpose. Got blocks set up to prevent any sorta personality shifts from tendin’ in that direction, all part of the package they booted me up with. And it ain’t anything new since Megatron went and took over, either. People like me, we been around a long time. “Peacetime?” “Golden Age?” Ha! I was built durin’ the so-called “Golden Age” and lemme tell you, they didn’t give me this programmin’ as part of a peace plan. I’m doin’ the same work for Megatron that I was doin’ for the mechs in charge back then.
People like me, we can’t be gettin’ distracted by things like sympathy or affection. Things like that interfere with my job, if you get my drift. Can’t feel empathy, can’t “fall in love” - and fraggin’ don’t want to! Slag, havin’ an outsider perspective on that one makes me grateful for the blocks. I can’t feel it, and I don’t even know what it feels like despite my havin’ in-depth conversations with some prisoners on the subject.
And I don’t know if it’s deliberate or just a side effect of the programmin’, but I ain’t ever been afraid like these people get, either. See, I can get nervous or worried - sometimes you just get a feelin’ that everything’s gonna fall apart and ruin all your hard work, but not what other people call terrified. The hardest thing I had to learn back when I was a new-build was how to use a mech’s fear against ‘em - it just never made sense to me how people’d do things outta nothin’ but fear. Took a lot of trial and error to work that one out. I know that most mechs have this intimate dread of pain, but I ain’t ever figured out why. Dead handy, though.
Anyway, what all this has to do with the situation at hand -
I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be scared right now. There’s a bit of worry goin’ on, wonderin’ how far this little conspiracy I’m bein’ set up by goes, but there ain’t no use in squallin’ about it. Ons is all nervous himself, actin’ even more military and precise than normal.
What’s botherin’ me, though, is what a big deal everyone’s makin’ out of this. It ain’t like it’s exactly unusual for bodies to show up around bases. Sure, this one’s placed inconveniently, and was a bit enthusiastically killed, but ain’t all this worry a bit overboard? This Mayhem showed fast enough that either he just didn’t have anything better to do - which I find unlikely, considerin’ the types they push for in the Mayhems - or somebody pulled some strings to get ‘em out here. That’s a dangerous kinda currency to be cashin’ in if you don’t have a personal stake in the matter.
So why does the base commander want me to go down for this?
“Ons,” I say, pulling up to hover in mid-air. I can just make out the skyline of the base from here. “I ain’t goin’ back to the base.”
Onslaught hits his brakes, rolling to a stop a bit further on. “Explain,” he growled. It’s probably a sign of how tense he is that he doesn’t even bother to correct my usin’ that nickname he hates.
“If I go back, I’m dead,” I tell him. Sheesh, sometimes it’s like talkin’ to a newbuild with these people. “So I ain’t goin’ back.”
“If you don’t return to base with me,” Onslaught starts off in that overly-patient voice he uses when he thinks I’m bein’ deliberately obtuse, “They will take it as an admission of guilt and you will be hunted down as a deserter.”
“Ain’t desertin’. But somethin’ occurred to me, and I can’t figure this out from inside a cell. Or inside a smeltin’ pit, which is more likely and you know it.”
He sits quietly on his wheels for a long moment, thinkin’ it over. If he doesn’t bring me back, the Mayhem could decide he’s in on it and be perfectly justified in takin’ him out - not that Mayhems need justification or that Ons would be easy for him to “take out.” But still, it’s a sign of what kinda mech Onslaught is that he even considers lettin’ me go.
“Be quick about it,” he says finally. Then he pulls back out onto the road and heads for base, leavin’ me hoverin’ there alone.
Y’know, if I could feel personal affection, I mighta right now. Like I said, the mech’s the handiest commander I’ve ever had.
The sucker.
Chapter: 5 - Like a Blade Through the Pump
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 5 - The trip back to base gives Vortex a little too much time to think. Pre-Earth, Vortex POV.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like for everyone else. Y’know, people like the Autobots, or even some of the other Decepticons, those normal people. People who actually feel “bad” if they were to walk up behind their berthmate and shove a blade into his primary fuel pump. Honestly, I don’t even know what that feels like. The “bad” part, not the blade-in-the-pump part, because I’ve had that happen. Done it, too, to the same person.
...Long story.
Anyway, most of the time, I really couldn’t care less about it; it ain’t a virtue, no matter what the wishy-washy people afflicted by it say. Guess they gotta make themselves feel better about the giant target they’re paintin’ or somethin’ like that. But sometimes I wonder.
I ain’t ever felt anything of the sort. Not because somethin’ went wrong in the programmin’, but because they didn’t put it in there on purpose. Got blocks set up to prevent any sorta personality shifts from tendin’ in that direction, all part of the package they booted me up with. And it ain’t anything new since Megatron went and took over, either. People like me, we been around a long time. “Peacetime?” “Golden Age?” Ha! I was built durin’ the so-called “Golden Age” and lemme tell you, they didn’t give me this programmin’ as part of a peace plan. I’m doin’ the same work for Megatron that I was doin’ for the mechs in charge back then.
People like me, we can’t be gettin’ distracted by things like sympathy or affection. Things like that interfere with my job, if you get my drift. Can’t feel empathy, can’t “fall in love” - and fraggin’ don’t want to! Slag, havin’ an outsider perspective on that one makes me grateful for the blocks. I can’t feel it, and I don’t even know what it feels like despite my havin’ in-depth conversations with some prisoners on the subject.
And I don’t know if it’s deliberate or just a side effect of the programmin’, but I ain’t ever been afraid like these people get, either. See, I can get nervous or worried - sometimes you just get a feelin’ that everything’s gonna fall apart and ruin all your hard work, but not what other people call terrified. The hardest thing I had to learn back when I was a new-build was how to use a mech’s fear against ‘em - it just never made sense to me how people’d do things outta nothin’ but fear. Took a lot of trial and error to work that one out. I know that most mechs have this intimate dread of pain, but I ain’t ever figured out why. Dead handy, though.
Anyway, what all this has to do with the situation at hand -
I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be scared right now. There’s a bit of worry goin’ on, wonderin’ how far this little conspiracy I’m bein’ set up by goes, but there ain’t no use in squallin’ about it. Ons is all nervous himself, actin’ even more military and precise than normal.
What’s botherin’ me, though, is what a big deal everyone’s makin’ out of this. It ain’t like it’s exactly unusual for bodies to show up around bases. Sure, this one’s placed inconveniently, and was a bit enthusiastically killed, but ain’t all this worry a bit overboard? This Mayhem showed fast enough that either he just didn’t have anything better to do - which I find unlikely, considerin’ the types they push for in the Mayhems - or somebody pulled some strings to get ‘em out here. That’s a dangerous kinda currency to be cashin’ in if you don’t have a personal stake in the matter.
So why does the base commander want me to go down for this?
“Ons,” I say, pulling up to hover in mid-air. I can just make out the skyline of the base from here. “I ain’t goin’ back to the base.”
Onslaught hits his brakes, rolling to a stop a bit further on. “Explain,” he growled. It’s probably a sign of how tense he is that he doesn’t even bother to correct my usin’ that nickname he hates.
“If I go back, I’m dead,” I tell him. Sheesh, sometimes it’s like talkin’ to a newbuild with these people. “So I ain’t goin’ back.”
“If you don’t return to base with me,” Onslaught starts off in that overly-patient voice he uses when he thinks I’m bein’ deliberately obtuse, “They will take it as an admission of guilt and you will be hunted down as a deserter.”
“Ain’t desertin’. But somethin’ occurred to me, and I can’t figure this out from inside a cell. Or inside a smeltin’ pit, which is more likely and you know it.”
He sits quietly on his wheels for a long moment, thinkin’ it over. If he doesn’t bring me back, the Mayhem could decide he’s in on it and be perfectly justified in takin’ him out - not that Mayhems need justification or that Ons would be easy for him to “take out.” But still, it’s a sign of what kinda mech Onslaught is that he even considers lettin’ me go.
“Be quick about it,” he says finally. Then he pulls back out onto the road and heads for base, leavin’ me hoverin’ there alone.
Y’know, if I could feel personal affection, I mighta right now. Like I said, the mech’s the handiest commander I’ve ever had.
The sucker.
