Problem to Profit



Planning Room - Combaticon Base

A large room, big enough to contain the four Combaticons and their leader, in addition to the large holographic projection table sitting in the middle of the room. A long metal bench runs all the way across the room to give those in the room a good deal of room to move from bench to bench while giving attendees a view of the surface of the table and the flatscreen embedded into the far wall. In sharp contrast to the high end technological equipment and the spartan military seating there stands a vending machine bearing a picture of a gumby seeker downing a can of Energon and the legend EnerCola beneath and the ubiquitous pin up.

Ah, numbercrunching. One of the less glamourous and more time consuming jobs of the business world. Sure, Swindle could pay off some tech flunkie to do it for him, but who wants to trust the data equivilent to their money to just anyone? Especially knowing that brat buzzard Laserbeak was already being a pain in his drivechain.

Regardless Swindle sat at one of the smaller personal terminals around the central display, pouring over the data from last night and occasionally taking a sip from a cold can of Swindlebrau sitting in a cup holder of his chair. Why is his chair the only one with a cup holder? It's Swindle, you really need to ask?

Onslaught walks into the room and throws his rifle on the table sitting in the middle of the room. A simple glance at the weapon is enough to notice that it was severely damaged in last night fight, "Accursed Autobots...". The combaticon commander does not seem to be in a good mood. Is it because of his weapon of because Hot Spot's team beat his team again? Who knows... probably both. "...my rifle is useless now. I swear I had replacement part in my armory...I'll have to fill a request to Darkmount. I hope those lazy drone of Logistic send the parts soon... I feel naked without my weapon."

As the gun hits the table a chunk of it pops off and ripples through the holo-display to land in Swindle's lap. Good thing it missed his drink! Idly he picks it up, looks at it a moment... and then tosses it over a shoulder. "Eh, you were about due for an upgrade anyways." If there's a flinch at the mention of the missing armory pieces it doesn't show as he scoots his chair back and gets up. Grabbing the 'brau in the process of course. "Why don't you have a look at last night's findings while I whip some stock-bots into shape." The dealer strolls away a few steps and flips open his personal comm-link.

Onslaught simply grunts as Swindle offers to handle the paperwork for him. That's so kind of him, especially since he has nothing to do with the missing parts. The combaticon takes his own seat in front of the terminal and proceed to review the data gathered during the raid. "Excellent. You better set up a fake enterprise so we can accumulate terran's currencies. We may be able to use those for future operations." He pushes a few button on the terminal, bringing up a map of the planet with all important economical center highlighted. "I need to organize raids on all those locations...they won't realize what we're doing until they are more busy trying to save their economy than fighting us."

"Deadweight, get off your lazy skidplate and retrieve the backup parts for Onslaught's rifle." Swindle then glances over his shoulder while waiting. "Already in the process, boss. The attempts at directly hacking their credit files was a diversion. I had more subtle software shuffle several seemingly unrelated portfolios into assorted small front companies I keep for just such an occasional. All to be bought up by a single entity to form the bases of your 'economic seige' as soon a--" He pauses as the comm beeps "--Pardon me a moment." Turns back to listen to the device and take a gulp from his homebrew enerbooze.

Then sputters it out a moment later, followed by an object "WHAT?" at the comm. "You better double-check that... I don't care if you already double-checked, double-double-check!... Are you.... Ooooooh, riiiight, now I remember...."

Onslaught turns his gaze towards Swindle. Some people may have wondered what Swindle's reaction mean but the combaticon commander knows his teamate way too well...he doesn't need more details and can even guess what happened to those part, "Do not tell me that all replacement parts are "missing" and that I'm stuck without my weapon right at a critical stage of one of my most brilliant plan...". Somehow, he looks even less happy than when it entered the planning room.

Swindle coughs a few times to clear his vocalizer and tosses the can in a waste bin. "Missing? Please, I keep better records than that." Tugs at the cord to his bolo-tie as Onslaught pretty much nails to the point anyways. "Buuuuut I maaaay have sold some crucial components to a lower tier weapons company to bolster their project revenue so the prosperity could be reaped by our own technicians through industrial espionage at a latter date..." However Swindle doesn't take long to slide back into his usual greasy charm despite the set back, waving an hand back as he walks over to the terminal. "But before you blow a gasket, we can use this to your advantage on both fronts."

Onslaught drums his fingers on the table, "You sold all the spare components of my weapon, which happen to also be the main weapon of Bruticus, who's himself one of the finest WMD of the empire?" He looks unsually calm as he speaks but he suddenly slams his clenched fist on the table, "You better find new parts quickly or your next assignment will be on Charr...without any access to external communication."

"Well how was I suppose to know it would get broken before I got the returns on that investment?", Swindle retorts. The moment of anxiety was gone now that the gears were turning again, back to his typical demeanor even as he punches a few quick commands into the display console. Then shakes a finger at Onslaught. "Besides, I never said that investment was on Earth, now did I?"

He punches a button with the other hand and the main display crackles to life of another planet. "Just might need to call in a few favors, but since this trade was done through a front, it -looks- like these off-world developers have been dealing with Earth companies. Tell the Empire you're crushing a potential build-up of a Terran/Autobot ally, we take what -you- need," And something off the side for himself, but first he's got to calm Onslaught's nerves, -then- plot his own profit, "and the apparent loss of a potential military support would help kick another crack in the economy besides. Make off-world companies less willing to try and help Earth get back up once we bowl them over."

Onslaught slowly calms down. You got to admit Swindle is pretty good at dealing with the crisis he keeps creating. What really calms Onslaught is the fact that it really fit in his master plan, "Very well we will do that...but with one twist. /You/ won't simply repair my gun. You will make it more powerful. I don't care how to get the necessary parts. This will be your punishment for being careless with important spare parts."

A good con-man just makes trouble. A -great- con-man knows how to handle when trouble inevitable comes back upon him like a boomerang and turn it into -more- potential gains. To be honest Swindle was probably planning something like this from the start with that investment, just that he's been pushed into cashing in on it sooner than intended. No big deal. He can use Onslaught's ongoing scheme to make up for it on his own end as well. "Oh, but of course. And it'll be a simple matter of increasing it's output by modifying the resonance focus array to prevent wavelength degradation in the pulsation bursts with what we can... acquisition from this facility."

Onslaught rises from his seat, "Very well. You're going to send me every scrap of data you have on your 'customer'. I want every details about their planet, specie, installations, everything. I'll prepare a battle plan and convince high command to allow enough resources to raid that location." Leaving his useless weapon on the table, he heads towards the door of his office. Before stepping into it, he adds, "You have 3 terrans hours."

3 hours. He's had to work with less before. He'll make it work. Because that's what Swindle does. "Never let anyone tell you that you don't know how to seize opportunity when you see it, sir."

Onslaught simply grunts as he passes into his office. The door shuts behind him, leaving Swindle alone.

Swindle slides back into his previous chair once Onslaught is gone, tapping a few quick commands in to set the financial processing aside and bring up a second holo-screen. It splits in half, the first showing Onslaught's Sonic Rifle and the component schematics needed to modify it.

Then he leaned back in the chair, putting his feet up crossed on the console, flipping open the comm-unit. "Yeah, Deadweight? Bring up all the records we kept on that planet system. I've got Onslaught chomping on the bit to bust the place open." The second half brings up Swindle's own scatterblaster, detailing a muzzle assembly modification that will allow for adjustable calibration between normal sweeper dispersal, and narrowing the aperture for increased muzzle velocity and decreased shot spread for improved on-mark delivery.

Always something in it for yourself, isn't there Swindle...