This is Transformers fanfic only really in the vaguest sense.
“Are you sure we need a virgin for this?” Hayden asked.
“What do you mean, am I sure?” the Grand High Vizier of the Dark Mages Association (to be, anyway) said. His name was Vince. Soon he’d be known all over the world, at least if this summoning worked. “Come on, are you stupid? Every fucking demon sacrifice ever asks for a virgin sacrifice, obviously it actually needs a virgin.”
“I mean yeah, but I read somewhere that-”
“Oh, you read somewhere,” Vince started.
“I read somewhere, don’t fucking cut me off, I read somewhere that ‘virgin’ used to just mean a young woman historically and not, like, someone who’d never had sex, and it’ll be a lot easier to find some random chick than it will be to make sure they never screwed around ever in their life, you know?”
“You’re a fucking moron.”
“Pushing your fucking luck, Vince. You need me for this. Are you sure.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” Vince snapped. “And before you ask, yes we need an actual goat, too, if you bring me a fucking sheep I am going to flip my shit.”
“You’ll take what I fucking give you unless you want to do all the procuring your own self,” Hayden said. “Face it, you came to me because you can’t do it and I can. If you got an issue with me handling things the way you asked me to, then fuck it, I can kill you just as easily as whatever girl you want me to get for you. You’ll speak to me with respect or not at all.
“Jesus christ,” Vince said. “God, get a thicker skin.”
Hayden rolled his eyes. “Okay. What the fuck ever. Know there’s a line and if you cross it I’ll end you. I’ll get you a virgin. How old does she have to be?”
“How old do you want your fucking virgin,” Hayden repeated. “A kid will be easier than an adult. Do you care.”
“No, I don’t give a shit,” Vince said, waving a hand. “Whatever makes it work. Just get out of here, we only have six more hours before the window is up.”
“Vortex, you have got to be kidding me,” Swindle said. “This is so fucking stupid. I’m not doing it.”
“Come on, Swin, you’re the only spirit I know who has even a snowball’s chance in hell of making it work!”
“Absolutely not. You’re not a fucking demon. No one would think you were a fucking demon.”
“Please. Please, seriously. I swear it’ll work.”
“You’re a regular storm elemental, Tex, the fact that they can read means they’re gonna know your signature is totally off,” Swindle insisted. “Onslaught’s gonna kill us if we get caught for this one, we don’t need any more sanctions.”
“We’re not going to get sanctioned,” Vortex insisted. “I just need you to give me sound effects, okay? Trust me.”
Swindle groaned, flashing multicolor into the Aether. “What’s in it for me, anyway?”
“The juiciest parts of their souls and all the best cuts of the meat, what else?” Vortex said. “You’re the black-market hookup here, I don’t know what to do with all that. I just want to have some fun.”
“I’m not a demon either,” Swindle pointed out, as though Vortex didn’t know he’d been spending ages with that one body-hopper Lockdown reading off his playbook and undercutting his business at all turns. There was no way he didn’t know how to snatch an already-partitioned soul. And Vortex could partition anyone. He was an interrogator. It was practically his job.
“What if I got Blast Off in on it? He’s got the void cold, if he were there it really would feel like a demon had shown up.”
“He’s not gonna be a part of it, are you kidding? Are you stupid?”
“He owes me a favor,” Vortex said..
“Uh,” Swindle said. “Look, Tex, I really think this is a bad idea, but I can turn a nice profit on two live human souls… and everyone’s always asking about blood and vitality and spare hope and all that. You get Blast Off in on it, and I’ll see what I can do.”
