[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Contacting You About Your Ship's Extended Warranty [Closed]

[Swindle]

Week 1 - Day 3
Blackridge Hold, Assembly Hall at that one table in the corner...
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Swindle had only been present for about a single Earth day and there had been a lot he needed to situate himself with, such as the layout of Blackridge Hold. The mech helped himself to explore the place, familiarizing himself with where useful things were such as the quarters, Energon refueling stations and the Medbay. He also took note of where possible valuable things were. Like all of the random salvaged junk the Decepticons have found inside pockets of the surrounding rock.

Swindle’s salvaged stuff was much better than any of this… buuuut… it wasn't useless.

The base itself was primitive, bleak… and very rocky.

Swindle much preferred the comfort of his own ship than this place, at least he had that as an option for when he’d get sick of this place. Which he would. Very quickly.

At least the layout was open? Though the cons definitely weighed out the pros.

The mech headed towards the Assembly Hall, where he found it to be one of the better and more… semi-comfortable places to hang out at, perhaps reorganize some information on his datapad and work on some written entries for himself.

He approached an empty seat along the wall and slid all the way onto the bench, sitting sideways so that he could prop his legs up along the rest of the bench. A hiss and a click from his chassis sounded before his subspace slid open, where Swindle slipped his servo inside to grab his datapad. His subspace closed and the small, bulky mech lost himself immediately in his ‘work’.

Swindle wanted to be around the common spaces, keeping himself open to the activity of Blackridge for… business opportunities! Plus this entire place was quiet, and it was nice to have a quiet place to go that wasn’t in his newly given quarters.

[Lockdown]

Two days at Blackridge and Lockdown had already gotten well acquainted with the kind of place it was. Dark, stuffy, embarrassingly doorless, cramped and overpopulated. It was perfectly mundane, and fairly terrible, actually. Plenty of mecha looked absolutely miserable having to pace through its oppressive depths as opposed to a sleek, spacious, functioning warship. It was like the stone floors and mica walls were slowly sucking their sparks right out of them.

He loved it.

The only problem was that Lockdown could tell it was going to get damn boring very quickly if he didn’t find something or someone to do to pass the time in between his usual shenanigans. All in all, though, he’d been to worse scrap heaps than this. Hell, he’d made worse scrap heaps than this.

But the moment he laid optics on that cheap little snake oil salesman, his relatively good mood was thrown out the window.

"Motherfragger!" Or, Swindle.

Sitting right there in the corner of the outpost’s main hall just a dozen paces away, lounging, as if he hadn’t slighted anyone of any importance. Well, he certainly was about to find out, wasn’t he?

"Undersized, rust-munching, double-crossing, overpolished–"

Lockdown’s offhand was already transforming into a tri-barrel shotgun as he continued to let out a growled string of curses under his breath.

Swindle’s one saving grace would be a shotgun shell jamming within Lockdown’s arm– which looked to have not been oiled in quite some time. The bounty hunter snarled as he rolled his left shoulder in annoyance, a few spare specks of rust flaking off of his arm in the process.

Lifting his helm to glare up at Swindle, it was clear his advance had not been halted by this brief setback. Not for a moment. Lockdown was quite literally seeing red, raising his hook to point at the salesman menacingly, its chrome tip shining like a beacon of death under the assembly hall’s dim amber lights.

The wrist mount containing Lockdown’s laser net quickly saw action in lieu of the shotgun, folding out of a small panel above his hook. He didn’t waste a second in deploying it, the game net launching out of his hand, already aimed center mass at the sitting Decepticon. The net zipped through the air towards the Combaticon, rapidly expanding to a size more than twice that of Swindle.

Lockdown was not pleased to see his once and future business partner.

[Swindle]

The sound of shifting, screeching metal followed by a stall out. Such an odd array of sounds… obnoxious and assaulting to the audials, really. It caused Swindle to glance up from his datapad towards the source of the appalling noises.

Which had been a mistake.

The conmech looked up just in time to see an unwelcome sight of a familiar hook, a fold of a panel, and an object ejecting from its chamber followed by a loud snap from the hydraulics that released the trajectory.

Which had been flying right towards him.

A sharp intake of air filled his systems as he fumbled his datapad in his servos. He tried to slide down in his seat and pull his legs up towards his chassis but it was less than a graceful transition, considering such swift movement was hard for a mech of his bulky physical makeup. His arms flew upwards to block his faceplate and his optics snapped shut while his frame curled up as much as it could in an attempt to protect himself.

He didn’t realize what had been shot at him until he was hit and felt like something draped over him. His optics opened quickly and he looked at the thing that was currently consuming him.

A net.

Swindle started to grab at it and tried to pull it off of himself but with every tug, it kept getting hooked under his armor plating. His awkward, curled up position helped little to none in his situation, but he couldn't move very well to get out of it. A bit irritated, he let out a low growl and snapped his optics back towards the mech who the net had come from.

That displeased expression he was currently wearing melted into a nervous grin and a brittle, forced laugh escaped from him.

That familiar hook… how could he have not realized who it belonged to?

“L-Lockdown! Heeey!”

He could feel that disgusting, heavy weight of regret sinking into him, causing his tanks to churn unpleasantly. He damn well knew why this was provoked, what he had done…

But Lockdown didn’t need to know the truth.

“Sneaking up on me, eh? Ha! You still got it. It’s good to see you’re still functioning, Uh, You can refrain from using your surprise attacks on me though. We are on much more formal terms than that.” He reassured with bright, wide, purple optics looking up at the bounty hunter.

This was going to be a hard one to weasel his way out of… Lockdown was one of his more… unfortunate clients…

[Lockdown]

Lockdown watched, red glazing his vision as the conmech finally noticed him, and instead of making any attempt to fight or even flee the incoming net, he instead curled up until a ball, shielding his ugly, overpolished mug as if that would do anything. Swindle hadn’t changed a bit.

He didn’t know how one mech could be so…pathetic. It almost made Lockdown want to vomit right then and there.

"Ugh!" Lockdown seemed to verbalize his internal thinking as he watched Swindle hit the ground, ensnared in the bounty hunter’s game net. He clocked Swindle’s attempts to peel the net from his frame, and quickly made short work of foiling them. With a sneer, Lockdown pressed a button on the paneling above his hooked arm, and suddenly the net began to grow tighter and tighter over the other grounder’s frame, digging in uncomfortably to the mech’s armor, further immobilizing him.

That look…how dare this mech even think to show that kind of attitude after wronging him so dearly? And then to attempt to hide it under a weak smile, a facsimile of innocence? Real innocence deserved to be slowly rotted away and corrupted by Lockdown, not attempted by lying, two-bit bottom-feeding sharks like Swindle. The nerve of Swindle to attempt to fake such a thing sent Lockdown's rage soaring to new heights. 

Lockdown roughly shook his offhand, a shell casing flying out of his bicep as another round was shifted into the loading mechanism. A second later, the burning hot barrel of a charged tri-barrel shotgun was leveled right between Swindle’s optics.

"You’ve got ten nanoseconds to tell me where my ship went, runt, or I’m gonna start repainting this room with your insides." The bounty hunter snarled darkly, before picking a different piece of anatomy to threaten.

Threading his shotgun barrel through the game net with a frighteningly practiced hand, Lockdown planted the burning barrel of his shotgun right between Swindle’s legs.

"Starting with all your least valuable merchandise."

[Swindle]

Feeling the net tighten made things even more complicated. Before, he was able to move around, but that had no longer been the case once he was completely constricted. Swindle tried to push against it, but it was no use. He was trapped.

Swindle winced as the net squeezed him, forcing him into a tighter and rather uncomfortable and awkward ball until the tension was as tight as it could get.

His optics never left the bounty hunter before him, and that heavy click of a reloading shell rang in Swindle’s audials as fear began to surge through him. He could have sworn his spark skipped a few pulses as Lockdown shoved that shotgun right between his optics…

Swindle was no tyro in these types of situations, for he’s had guns pointed to his helm on several occasions. Some of those happened outside of war rather than in it... they weren’t favorable times.

“Your Ship, I- Yes, about that-” he began, relieved once Lockdown began to lower the gun from his helm.

“Well for start- Woah! HEY!” Swindle shouted out in shock. He couldn’t see what Lockdown was up to considering he couldn’t really look past his own chassis in this position, but he didn’t need to in order to figure it out. The suggestive words and the blazing heat from the gun nesting right between his legs was enough to get the message across, and the mech couldn’t help but try to writhe away from the unwelcomed and heavily invading weapon.

He was familiar with the insane amounts of adrenaline that coursed through him during these life threatening moments. Though this was different. Lockdown didn't just want to kill him, he wanted to strip him to parts plate by plate and probably dismember every one of his cables into tiny little pieces before letting him get a taste of death.

There was no error for mistakes here, Swindle was walking on thin ice, and in other situations that gave him a run for his money, they had been much easier to talk his way out of... mostly because those bots still had an ounce of sanity and common sense remaining. Swindle never had to deal with another mech like Lockdown, well, not in this sort of way. The only way he could think to handle it was with his pretty ‘little’ lies…

He needed to think of something quick, which a lie rapidly formulated as his frightened processor pieced together something that hopefully could get him out of this situation.

“No, no! Just give me a chance to explain! It got stolen on Pz-Zazz! Mercenaries hunting Cybertronians found my warehouse there and raided it before bombing the place! It has been rough out there, I’m sure you more than anyone else knows that! Otherwise I’m sure you wouldn’t be here, either! Mechs like us don’t stay stationary unless we know the odds are against us!” Swindle blurted, but his pitch wasn’t quite done yet.

“I didn't have the resources to find it! But I know of some others out there who can help you track it! The problem is getting the resources to do so… And, for compensation, I can help you with the jamming of your tri-barrel! I know that you know I saw it, and let me be the one to say that it’s very unreliable for your killing escapades! One rough situation where that thing jams on you when you need it most? You might as well kiss your hunting days goodbye! It just needs a good tune up and perhaps attachments which I can help find the parts for! I’ll even throw in a free weapon blueprint for you!” he bargained, and even though he twisted the truth this way and that, his offers were solid. Swindle was serious about aiding Lockdown… he was desperate enough to patch all this up for the sake of his life.

[Lockdown]

"Bullshit 'mercenaries’ got a hold of it, I want names!"

Swindle would make an offer, and in response, Lockdown raised his right arm. The sharp curved blade crowning it would glint deadly in the light.

"Do you think I’m fragging around?!?"

The hook would slam down into the net, tearing it open just beside Swindle’s face, Lockdown destroying his own handiwork in the process. Dozens of intricately tied together wires fell loosely to the wayside. The loss of a single game net was nothing compared to what Swindle had…well, swindled him out of.

"You were paid for one thing: to keep my ship secure. Now I’m down a frigate and the good money I spent to keep it hidden."

Glaring down at the combaticon, his sneer only grew. Lockdown was quickly realizing it was no use. He knew the mech in front of him-- Swindle would say whatever he could to attempt to keep himself in the bounty hunter's good graces, anything to attempt to stay alive. Even if Swindle was telling the truth about the Jade Dahlia, Lockdown had just arrived to Earth on his own limited fuel supply. He couldn’t go traversing half the universe once more for the mere chance his old ship might still be in one piece somewhere out there. Not without setting back his plans here on Earth an untenable amount. 

Besides, he knew Swindle– leaving is exactly what he’d want him to do. His lies were always too good to be true. His ship was gone.

Once more, Lockdown snarled with barely contained rage. Utilizing the new hole that had formed in the wiring, Lockdown quickly thrust his hand through it, what had once been a shotgun was now a strong servo easily clamping around the dirty merchant’s neck. His grip was poised to crush the delicate intake cabling there with one wrong word– choking already even, much more than just a warning.

Lockdown was no longer in the mood to bargain. He’d receive compensation for this slight against him one way or another…

"It’s refund time, Swindle."

That hook came to the shorter Decepticon’s mouth, easily slipping past the mech’s prattling derma as he attempted to explain himself and make a deal. The rancid taste of rust, spilled oil, and the unfortunate leftovers of whoever Lockdown’s last victim was would fill Swindle’s mouth

"I don’t want your trash, I want you to beg. Beg me not to do what I’ve been dying to do to that fake pretty, lying little mouth for the last 40 nanoseconds."

[Swindle]

This mech was not a joke, not in the slightest. Swindle knew Lockdown wasn't playing with him, well… not in the fun way at least. Not for the Combaticon.

He winced as that hook came down, ripping open the net just near his face plate. His optics reset, after offlining expecting there to be some sort of painful contact. This fragger was really trying to instill fear, and Swindle was buckling under the pressure. He hated it.

“N-No! Not at all I- If it helps, that good money was actually well spent on trying to secure it!” He started nervously, sticking to his lie like space barnacles to a ship. “I promise it was- ACK-!”

He was immediately silenced after Lockdown reached through the hole in the net and grabbed his neck cables. Swindle did his best to turn his helm away, to even try to reach up and grip the other’s arm only to find his servos still trapped under the net’s grip. The crushing pressure around his intake cables caused strained noises of struggle to slip from him.

"It’s refund time, Swindle."

“W-Wait! I-I have oth er-er thin..gs! mnph!” He tried to speak before Lockdown’s hook slipped right inside of his intake. Swindle instinctively bit down hard to prevent the mech from trying to push it down further. There were wicked flavor of things Swindle didn’t even dare to think of insulting his taste sensors, causing him to pull his glossa further back down his throat to avoid touching that nasty thing.

Though Lockdown’s request immediately triggered a reaction from Swindle that earned the bounty hunter a snarl. Swindle bit down even harder on the hook, enough to flash his fangs that peeked through his irritated frown. Swindle’s kindness fell, he had been reasonable, trying to be far more generous than he should have been… and this mech just asked him to beg?! What, like some kind of pet? Even if Lockdown called him pretty, he wasn't being charming. At all. Besides, Swindle already knew he was pretty. He had put a lot of money into his frame! Tell him something he didn’t know!

Swindle could try to keep that hook clenched between his denta as best as he could, but he knew that he had no escape here. He had no choice but to do what Lockdown asked if he really wanted to get out of this. Lockdown already had him by the neck cables, Swindle was at the bounty hunter's mercy.

That snarl faded as that realization hit Swindle. He didn’t have the time to debate this in his helm…

“I-f Yah wh..ant meh thwo-o beh-gh phropherly, It–t who–uldh shound bhhet-t-teh with-h-out teh hookh… ” He forced out through his strain while keeping his denta locked around the hook, Lockdown’s grip crushing his intake cables caused his vocalizer to crack and shift under his grasp.

“I-Ih Onhl-y-y– evher ghive… teh bhes-t Quh-a-alit–y... ” he winced at what he forced out to say next, feeling a part of him dying as soon as those words left him…

He whispered oh–so softly and reluctantly, in such a tone it was barely audible.

“Ph-phlease…”

This was humiliating…

[Lockdown]

Oh, how he loved that sound.

Subjugation. Another mech, beat and bleeding at his peds, having thrown away all caution. Begging to be spared. It had been far too long for Lockdown. What a way to spend his first few days back with the Decepticons.

Reminding them who he was.

"Take a good look, slaggers!" Lockdown would raise his voice to call out to no one in particular. There was no real crowd to call to really, save for the various Vehicon passerby who’d stopped to watch the sudden fiasco as it happened. Lockdown didn’t seem to care, getting off on this whole display either way.

"Take a look at what my mercy looks like," the merc continued, glaring out at a few wayward Vehicons amidst the room, before turning his focus back to Swindle. "LOUDER! I want the entire Hold to hear you."

The mech would not relent, digging that dastardly hook in deeper as he leaned in, uncomfortably close to Swindle, the scent of burnt oil thick on his breath. As he felt the will to fight fade from the smaller mech’s frame completely, the look of rage on Lockdown would twist into cruel amusement. A victory over this lying little scam artist was as sweet as could be.

Lockdown would finally remove his hook from the little slagger’s mouth, not caring to be gentle in the slightest. "Go ahead, little mech. I want them to hear the sound a mech who cheats me makes." His voice had dropped unbearably low, taunting, merely enjoying his own ability to dig the knife deeper, just to torture Swindle. Because he could.

Were one to make the mistake of thinking Lockdown was not the type of mech to kick another while he was still down, they would be sorely disappointed.

[Swindle]

Louder? Louder? Was this guy for real?

Lockdown wanted him, Swindle to beg for mercy, louder?

There was no way. Swindle couldn’t even try to bring himself to do that. His pride wouldn’t allow that sort of abuse. The conmech darted around before looking back up to Lockdown, his optic ridges furrowing in a twist of disgust and confusion. Perhaps the look should have been kept to himself, but in the moment? Swindle couldn’t help it. This was absurd.

And the fact that Lockdown was preaching to a bunch of vehicons? That was… that was really pathetic. No one of importance was even present to care, did Lockdown really need to gloat to a bunch of nobodies to feel good about himself? Huh… Who knew?

As soon that hook ripped away and out of his intake, Swindle groaned in disgust and turned his helm as far away from the bounty hunter as he could get it. He did his best to ignore that flavor, but it was a hazardous, toxic taste. Swindle would have gagged if he were millions of years younger, considering he’s been exposed to such wicked flavors over time and time again, he's built up some resistance… just barely enough, though.

That ounce of pride remaining screamed to not do what Lockdown asked for, and Swindle kept silent for a bit, thinking about what he could do until… a light bulb went off.

Bing!

Lockdown never specified how he wanted Swindle to plead for mercy, and even if the audience was nothing more than a few stray screws and bolts, perhaps he could try to knock Lockdown off of that high of… disgusting and eccentric need for control?

“Ahem-” Swindle began, his fear almost tempting enough to shut him back up… but… he pushed on.

“Well Lockdown, if you insist” He said casually.

And then the dramatic antics began.

With a dramatic flop, Swindle relaxed and then tilted his helm back to help sell the look of how helpless he really was.

“Oh, please let me go, all powerful Lockdown! I, a poor, helpless mech will NEVER be able to defeat your cunning! I’m so pathetic! I’m sure all these Vehicons will go sobbing to their commanders telling them the story of how the charming but terrifying bounty hunter defeated me, a humble scavenger, so easily, WOE WAS ME!” Swindle paused to look up with a sly smirk, “Did I sell that well enough for you?”