In the Basement
Content rating: Mature
Warnings: Major character death, self harm, undead, eye trauma, parasites.
Summary: Vortex is keeping a secret. Don’t go in the basement.
Notes:
This one was a lot of fun to write.
Vortex stepped into the service elevator. As it descended into the bowels of the Nemisis he flicked his rotors. He could find this storage room in the maze of lower deck with his optics closed even though he’d only started visiting in the past month.
When he entered the room he was tackled, but the mech was weak. His bound hands and muzzle also restricted his movement. It felt more like a hug, but it’d have never been a hug. Because Swindle wasn’t a hugger.
“Hey Swin’,” Vortex said. Swindle growled in response and half heartedly tried to hit Vortex with his bound hands.
“Yeah, yeah I haven’t visited recently. Brought you a datapad to make up for it.” Vortex pushed away Swindle’s grasping servos. “You’re hungry I know.”
He hit Swindle in a sensor cluster in his side and he fell limp against Vortex’s chassis. It always worked on him. Vortex wished he’d learn by now.
“You know the drill, on the berth. Primus, I sound like a porn vid star!” Vortex giggled.
Vortex kept laughing as he strapped Swindle into the restraints. “Good job Ons’ isn’t here to see this. He wouldn’t like it would he?” He straddled Swindle and pulled off the muzzle.
Swindle groaned. His optics were unfocused and dull probably due to the lack of fuel. He’d perk up and act more like himself after fuelling. He had to.
Vortex pulled a knife out of his subspace and waved it in Swindle’s faceplate. He wished that there was something like fear in Swindle’s optics. Or lust. Or rage. Anything. Vortex sliced his palm with the knife and watched the energon dripping into Swindle’s eager mouth.
“Like the fresh stuff don’t you? If you knew how cute you were,” Vortex murmured. Swindle’s engine purred weakly in response and he licked Vortex’s energon from his faceplates. Vortex smiled at his brighter optics.
Vortex pulled out a small tube of sealant and covered the cut in his palm. Rung asked questions the last time he wasn’t careful. Rung was always asking questions, and he would make a good interrogator. He didn’t like it when Vortex suggested that.
That didn’t matter now though. Nothing really did.
Vortex pulled a dull purple cube out of subspace. “Here. Hook got this for me—ain’t sure from who but they’re healthy.” He put the cube to Swindle’s lips. He drank slowly and his pretty purple optics dimmed as his hunger was sated.
Vortex petted Swindle’s head and he leaned towards the touch. “I forgive you. For selling us. You hear me? I forgive you.”
Swindle blinked. If Vortex squinted he could pretend Swindle’s paint was tan, not grey. That he was happy or suspicious he’d been forgiven. Not simply ignoring Vortex because his tank was full.
Vortex pulled a data pad out of subspace and turned the screen to Swindle. “Okay so, in this issue of Galactic Trade there’s some new regulations on transporting alien plants on page six...” Vortex looked at Swindle’s blank face. “I wouldn’t read this to just anyone who’s…sick. Pay attention Swin’.”
Swindle didn’t react.
“Swin’. look at it.” Vortex waved the pad in front of his faceplates. “Look at it! You’re supposed to care about this slag!”
Swindle twitched in response to the noise. The worms behind his optic lens wriggled.
“Stop it! Stop being dead! I can’t take it anymore—I shouldn’t feel like this. You did this to me—it hurts!” Vortex yelled. He dropped the pad and pulled his knife out of subspace and pressed its edge into Swindle’s throat.
Swindle didn’t react.
Black liquid dripped from the wound. And a worm, a bioengineered weapon of Shockwave gone horribly wrong wriggled free. It twisted on itself, dying quickly outside of it’s host. Vortex was tempted to let them crawl on him. In him. Inside his optics, though his lines and in his processor. They’d be together again.
Vortex hated Swindle. He hated the bond, even dead it screamed at him. He cut the worm in half with his blade. It didn’t make him feel better. More began to wriggle free, seeking his living body to infect.
“I should burn you. Fire is the only thing that’ll kill you now. Ons’ suspects I’m hiding something. Rung thinks I’ve got trauma—I hate you and you’re dead so why do I keep you. I can’t do it this time either. Why can’t I kill you?”
The worms poured from Swindles’s wound, dying in their attempts to reach Vortex’s living metal. Yet they kept coming crawling over their own dead and dying. It reminded him of the battles from his youth where he stumbled over the bodies of other young war builds.
Vortex undid the restraints. “I love you,” he whispered to Swindle. He was close enough to kiss him.
Swindle’s dead lips were silent.