Bots-3: Pick up on Aisle 12

[Mirage-3]

He isn't that far from his destination so Mirage makes a quick radio call:

//I need a pickup at <coordinates not the same as the drop-off and further down the down the coast by almost another day> and I need it yesterday.//

A short while later, Mirage is standing on the edge of a clearing next to a bound Swerve . Mirage's arms are crossed as he looks down at the constable; he'd had to use the second and last vial of the toxin on Swerve because of his damnably fast processors. True Swerve was smaller that Mirage, but he can be quite a handful. The binding was a precaution in case this pick-up took longer than anticipated.

Mirage smirks, and there is nothing of the pleasant amusement Swerve might have come to associate with that expression. Oh yes, quite the handful. Mirage will be asking Perceptor for more of that little concoction. It has so many possible uses.

Mirage's hand comes down to rest lightly on the constable's shoulder, optics tilting upwards to scan the skies.

---

OOC: Abuse of Swerve-3 done w/ permission

[Swerve-3]

As if immobility wasn't enough humiliation. Swerve can't move a single servo, not even to test the bindings. But he'd been so close! He'd just about gotten his vocorder working and almost lifted his head when Mirage pumped more of that vile stuff into his fuel lines.

So here he sits propped against a tree, arms crooked up and tied in place under his windscreen, legs folded beneath him. His shoulder stings and twinges and his knees are throbbing, servos protesting the constable's weight straining them past their extension points, and he can't even turn his head to glare properly at Mirage for doing this. The hound really has no idea what Swerve can be capable of when his ire burns like this; Swerve does, however, and that he's even thinking such things worries him. He can't be like this and go before the Prime. He can't.

He might well not. That smirk on this Mirage as he looms close and that solicitous touch on his uninjured shoulder make Swerve's fuel run cold all over again.

[Mirage-3]

Mirage goes down on one knee in front of Swerve, one hand tilting up the constable's chin, the other tracing circles on his uninjured shoulder. He tilts his head to one side, that slightly distracted expression on his face that belies radio use, though that quickly changes to one of dark amusement.

"He is angry with me, I think. But his reaction when I give you to him, tied up so prettily, will be worth any pain. I do not fear death at his hands. Not for this, at any rate."

Mirage's hand slides down to Swerve's chest, "Not too long to wait then, I'd wager. A pity that. I always did think you were a pretty little thing, and now you are almost the picture of my ideal partner thanks to that drug. Except I prefer mine to still have a voice."

"Such a pity." He stands, and his optics turn skyward once more, then back the way they came. Mirage expects pursuit, and he left no trail. He should be long gone before they track him to this clearing, but caution is a habit best not broken.

OOC: Permission from Swerve-3's player, yadda yadda yadda

[Skyfire-3]

Within a few minutes of Rodimus-3's command, Skyfire-3 was in the air, rockets thundering as he launched into the sky. Speed was his speciality; he'd do a hop to that far eastern beach in less than an hour.

[Swerve-3]

On one wheel, Swerve wants to recoil from those hands on his plating. They make his relays crawl and set his fuel tank to roiling. On the other, at least now he can glare properly at Mirage, and glare he does with all the ice he can muster. He tries and it holds for a few precious seconds before it cracks; thoughts of being taken before the Prime were bad enough, but remaining bound and helpless like this… and Mirage looking at him like this, touching him and saying the things he says… it's just too much for the constable to keep up his front. Raw fear dulls the sheen of his optics and there's no hiding that.

Revulsion, too, tints his horror-stricken stare. He can't make Mirage stop touching him. He's thankful, then, when Mirage stands and ignores him for a moment. His chin drops to his chest and misplaced relief washes through him; he's still trapped, still damned by his own mistakes to imminent pain – he knows there'll be pain and plenty of it to spare – but at least Mirage isn't favouring him with his tender attentions.

That this would be the end of it was a foolish hope on Swerve's part. By the time he can hear the distant roar of approaching rocket engines – so Mirage was waiting for a ride – he knows that if he is able and Mirage ever again lays a hand on him, he won't be able to restrain himself from violently detaching that hand and possibly the arm with it. And somehow, that thought sickens him.

[Mirage-3]

Swerve's fear and loathing just make Mirage all the happier, and his hand continues to slide over Swerve's shoulder and helm from time to time while they wait. Mirage is also considering what will happen when he returns. He pushed things a bit far in his enthusiasm. Rodimus is angry with him, quite angry, and though this lovely present will temper that anger, there will be pain and punishment, posssibly at Rodimus' own hands. Oddly enough, the look that settles on Mirage's face at such thoughts is not one of fear, but of anticipation.

The sound of those engines grow louder, and Mirage radios the explorer:

//Do me a favor and confirm your location. I need to be sure this is the Skyfire I'm looking for, and not the other one.//

[Skyfire-3]

// I am approaching the beach at <rendezvous coordinates> from over the ocean, just like last time. I have no escort today. // ...so if you see an escorting jet, it isn't me and TC. Skyfire doesn't need to complete the obvious warning; Mirage is good at reading between the lines.

Skyfire-3 spread his wings as he slowed, and flared low over the waves just like last time. As he gently settled to a stop in the sand near Mirage, he lowered his bow ramp. "Well, well, well! Picked yourself up a little fancy, did you? Or is that Prime's little fancy? I hope he's restrained; if your prisoner starts shooting up my hold, I'm Not Going to Be Happy."

[Swerve-3]

Swerve clings to the reminder, all through the unwanted touches, that he can't let himself get angry again. He can't stay angry. He can't. He has to get calm and stay that way… somehow. For sanity's sake if nothing else. Skyfire's landing makes that point sickeningly clear, too. The time Swerve has to pull himself back together is getting slimmer and slimmer. If he ends up before the Prime like this, he won't stand a chance.

Skyfire's greeting query has Swerve mentally wincing. A fancy. A prize. Lost by his own stupidity. How will Emirate Xaaron ever forgive him for this mistake? he wonders plaintively even as Mirage bodily hauls him up, tosses him over one shoulder again, and starts aboard the shuttle.

---

OOC: Posing of Mirage-3 with player's permission.

[Mirage-3]

Mirage secures Swerve first, then settles in next to him for the ride back to camp.

"He'll be no bother, thanks to Perceptor. Almost too easy, this one was." Mirage reaches over to run his hand down Swerve's thigh. "And Skyfire? He is a surprise, so kindly keep his presence to yourself until we've met up with the Prime."

[Skyfire-3]

"As you wish, Mirage," Skyfire replied as he raised his ramp and spun up his engines for take-off. "Better hope Prime doesn't ask me directly, because I'm not taking the abuse for lying to him or playing cutely ignorant. But, if he doesn't ask, I won't tell."

And the easiest way to insure that was not to mention he was on his way back until just before landing...

Skyfire's thrusters howled as they pushed him up and back off the beach, then went inline as he picked up speed horizontally. The rockets kicked in just after the big shuttle folded his wings--

BOOM! There was a thundercrack as he left the speed of sound and the ground far, far behind, climbing high into the black... heading back to base. Once the course was laid in, they had a few moments for conversation.

"Too easy? You suspect a trap?" Skyfire asked uneasily. "Want me to discreetly ask Perceptor to be on hand to check him for surprises?"

---

Time-skip as much as you want over the conversation; Skyfire's flight is fast anyway.

[Swerve-3]

None of the shudders wracking Swerve's processors shows on his plating, but as Skyfire speeds them all toward the waiting arms of the Prime, his face tightens into something approaching a grimace and, behind his back, his fingers move spasmodically. The second dose might wear off soon; too late to do him any good, as much as it might have done with his arms and legs bound. Just being able to react, having some measure of control again, will be a huge leap forward at this point. The much-needed proverbial shot in the arm.

…He really does think of the worst metaphors at the worst times. They'll throw him to Perceptor just for its own sake, won't they? To break him? Oh, he won't be that easy. He's stronger than they think – he has to be. He'll fight. He does fight; the minutes tick by, piling up, drifting away, and like before, he can feel motor servos begin to respond again as the chemicals slowly, miserably slowly cycle from his systems, burning off with fuel. It's interminable for the constable, his patience frayed, this waiting with so little time he can afford. But eventually, finally, he manages to turn his head a few scant degrees, just enough to level a sidelong, cold and edged frown on his kidnapper. It's a small, petty victory. The garbled, staticky growl that's all he can muster from his vocorder, less so.

Too little, too late, unless he mistakes that slowing change in the pitch of Skyfire's engines.

---

OOC: Out to Gifts Given, Gifts Received?

[Mirage-3]

"No, no trap Skyfire. Our dear constable grew too comfortable with our good little doppelgangers, and they are not prepared for us no matter that they try. So no, I would prefer Perceptor not to be involved immediately. It may color his reaction."

From the way he says it, Mirage could be talking about Swerve's reaction or the Prime's. He continues, "The Prime is already most put out with me, but for this I'll take his fury down on my head in your stead. It will be worth it."

The Prime's hound catches Swerve's slight movements, that sidelong glare, and smiles wickedly. Mirage leans in, lips almost touching Swerve's helm, and murmurs, "Pondering my painful death, or working to keep that temper in check? Or yes?" Mirage's hands move over Swerve again, "Most definitely worth it. I only hope he lets me stay online long enough to see you break."

---

OOC: works for me. Skyfire, care to post us out and in?

[Skyfire-3]

"Very well," Skyfire said, the tune of his engines shifting to another chord as he slowed, plunging back down into the thick lower atmosphere. Landing was mere minutes away...

---

And out of thread to "Gifts Given, Gifts Received"