🤖

Someone like one of those two idiots, because they really were the only two idiots he had. Did anyone even give a fuck about his personal life enough to remember who his friends were, or that he had any? Did they at least have intel that the triple changers were all close? None of the Autobots had said anything, but he figured they just didn’t know who knew who on his side. Not if you were less than important. Anyone less than high command and whatever. Did they have his personnel file? Was it their own weird stupid version? The stupid datapad was theirs obviously. He never got to even look at it, really.

He looked back at Swindle, and judging by the look on his face he hadn’t said fragging any of that out loud, and also maybe Swindle didn’t put any of this together and he had to help him figure it out, which was weird but whatever, whatever…

“Some friends they are,” Astrotrain said. “Haven’t turned up yet.” He took another drink. A swig, which was not how you drink fancy stuff but he was thinking about other things now. “They’ll hit me up...when they need something...you watch.” He laughed. “Whatever.”

Swindle had a very odd look on his face, but before Astrotrain could think too hard about it, not that he was in the mood to go and try anyway, Swindle said, “The end of the war’s changed everyone, you know…you might not...they might be a lot different.”

Astrotrain scoffed. “I know ‘em. They don’t change. I know ‘em an…” the smile on his face felt weirdly warm. Matched the rest of his face. He saw Swindle smile back at him as he rambled. “It’s fine. It’ll be the three of us, so it’s fine, I guess. Blizty and Octane. Dumb fucks. I hate them.” Astrotrain laughed. “I fragging hate them.”

Astrotrain took another drink. When he looked back at Swindle, his smile was gone.

“Oh,” Swindle said. “I thought you knew. Did no one tell you?” “Tell me what,” Astrotrain said. He kept his voice even, flat. Whatever it was, he didn’t care, and he definitely didn’t feel any growing dread about it.

Swindle looked down at the drink in his hand, as if he could will himself to be anywhere else. “Octane is dead.” “...Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry man. I figured they’d uh...you know...Primus...messed up they didn’t say nothin’…” Swindle’s vocoder stuttered. “uh, yeah, yeah he uh...he died um...ages ago…”

“Oh.” Astrotrain said. He stared into the wall above Swindle. “Okay.”

Maybe he’d had too much to drink, because he suddenly felt sorta sick.

“uh yeah I mean… I didn’t...I didn’t really know him or nothin’ I just...er...remember ‘cause you know…” Swindle shifted on his stool. “I mean uh...well…he kinda owed me some uh…money and...and...you know...I mean...kinda alot of money, actually…” he wrung the back of his neck with his servo.

Astrotrain didn’t say anything. He felt somewhere between half-sober and spinning. Mostly he felt nothing at all.

“Did they have a funeral for him.” Astrotrain said suddenly. Didn’t know why.

Swindle tapped the glass of his drink. He ex-vented. “I don’t know.”

“People didn’t like him.” Astrotrain said.

“…I guess.” Swindle said.

“Nobody fucking liked him.” Astrotrain said.

“…yeah.” Swindle said.

They both sat in silence for a while. Swindle kicked his legs on the stool.

“Blitzwing liked him.” Astrotrain said quietly.

“O-Oh…” Swindle said, almost carefully. “ I didn’t realize, I guess.”

“Have you seen him. Around. Whatever.” Astrotrain said.

“…not really.” Swindle said. “I’ve heard some things, you know...here and there.” “Okay.”

Blast Off put some more weight on him. He had plenty to spare. In Swindle’s bleary optic he was mostly a big purple and brown shadow. That blocky, unyielding figure cut sharp angles that dug tightly into Swindle’s chest plate, holding firm even in his swaying vision. Blast Off’s plating gleamed in the waning sunset. He never looked anything but groomed, even when he was floating around in deep space where no one could see him.

Swindle prided himself on understanding the motivations of just about everyone. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had some base, shameful desire deep down that drove them. Everyone had a price. Blast Off he couldn’t figure. He never seemed to want anything but to be a fucking smug aft and to push people as far away as possible. He was a puzzle Swindle couldn’t really solve, and didn’t really want to get close enough to try. It was always a little bit of a blow to his ego, but he could take the loss if it meant those icy, judgmental optics were sneering down at him less. Swindle wasn’t sure why that got to him. Despite his size and raw strength, Blast Off was maybe the 3rd most intimidating guy in his gestalt. Vortex scared other torturers. Blast Off might just glare you to death.

He seemed intent on doing that right now. His expression was ironed smooth by his mask, and his optics only betrayed the sort of cool disgust they normally did, just cut down deeper. They shone hypnotically bright, burning in Swindle’s swimming gaze. Swindle’s heel scraped the wall, finding nothing solid below.

“What are you slagging doing with Astrotrain.” Blast Off said.

Swindle gaped. “Really, is that what this is-” Blast Off pulled back and rammed him into the wall again. Swindle felt his optics glitch at the shock, all the air leaving his vents.

“Stay. Away. From him.” Blast Off said. “Whatever angle you’re working. Drop it.” “I’m…” Swindle kicked at the wall. “It’s not like that…” Blast Off applied more pressure. Swindle heard his plating squeal, and so did he. “I’m not doing anything, honest…!” “Honest?” Blast Off said. “Spare me. You’re incapable of honesty.”

Swindle glared, then looked away. He gripped Blast Off’s arm. “Why the hell...why do you even care, anyway?” Blast Off said nothing for a while. When Swindle met his optics, they were still staring, as icy and steady as ever.

“Because he’s a good guy.” Blast Off said finally. “He doesn’t deserve whatever it is you’re going to do to him.” “Good guy...good…” Swindle squirmed in his grasp, straightening himself. “You told me he was a prick!”

“Yeah.” Blast Off said. “He is."

Swindle gestured his servo in exasperation. He really didn’t get this guy at all.

Blast Off put even more weight on him, and that forced Swindle’s attention back to his predicament. A minor warning about the integrity of his chest armor scrolled across his HUD. Sure Blast Off wasn’t Vortex or even Onslaught, but he could still crumple him like a can by sheer size alone. Swindle knew a losing battle when he saw one.

“Alright, Alright, Primus, listen,” Swindle pleaded. He tugged at Blast Off’s arm, hoping that he would remember they were still gestalt in spite of everything. “It really isn’t...you don’t understand…” “Shut up.” Blast Off said. “You’re so full of shit, Swindle. I don’t want to fragging hear it.” He leaned in. “Just leave him alone. He’s been through enough.”

Yes, he had. Swindle remembered that far away look on Astrotrain’s face when he’d told him Octane was dead. For a little bit, Astrotrain was almost normal or something. And then he was gone, like someone had cut out his spark. The room had been moving all around him in Swindle’s recollection, but Astrotrain was so clear and still in the center of it. Just sitting there, staring into nothing. Like Astrotrain was somewhere else, and his frame was just sitting there, talking and moving dully without him. It was one of the most unnerving things he’d ever seen. Astrotrain wasn’t a mech he knew well, but he wasn’t someone Swindle ever thought would crack up like that.

Maybe it was the drink, or the conversation he’d just left Astrotrain with. Maybe it was none of those things. Swindle didn’t know. He glared at Blast Off. “Well, you go visit him then. Since you’re such good friends or whatever.”

Blast Off said nothing at that.