Nature of the Beast

One-Shot Series: Tcsovan Niv A'anoth

Part 1: Prowling Darkness, Guardian Light

*This is a mini-series for my Nature of the Beast story. A good number of people found Sentenza and Counterforce's relationship to be drop dead adorable, but I'm kind of working off a backstory that isn't expanded on very in depth in the series itself. I decided that wouldn't do – and this here's the result. This mini-series will focus on how Sentenza and Counterforce got to know one another via their fields of work, how they interacted despite living in separate cities, and how they came to be so close.

Warning: This story is going to be VERY dark and very emotional as it will be showing both the gritty underside of Cybertronian society, mostly around Kaon and Iacon, though sometimes in other cities, as well as a deeper look into Sentenza's psyche. The chapters will also be longer than my usual fare, unlike First Star I See Tonight, as I would really like to do some world building for these two.

Secondary Warning: Lots of forensics terms in here. Sentenza and Counterforce will do their best to clarify any unfamiliar phrases. :)

First major criminal of the menu today: Say hello again to Vertebreak!

*Note: I always pictured Kaon as a kind of Cybertronian London, so I gave the workers ("lower class") a kind of cockney accent similar to Chop Shop. I've also been watching Witcher 3 lately so, yeah. Sentenza's got a more refined, high class accent, but she is occasionally prone to turns of speech employed by lower class Kaonians. It's called creative license. :P

Go search "Cybertronian Time" and look for the archiveofourown link - to help keep track of all the time terms used here.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

When one stepped into the city of Kaon, one would instantly recognize it as an industrial city with a certain grim, rugged charm. At first one would ignore the dark, empty alleys that seemed peculiarly and utterly lifeless for more interesting sights. In the streets during the long days, mechs and femmes worked away on the massive buildings to keep them tall and sturdy against the persistent acid rain that gnawed away at the buildings every few seasons. On the insides of these buildings, they worked to keep the city itself chugging ever onwards. While the inhabitants weren't immediately friendly to outsiders, spend enough time there and the chance of being approached by a stranger wishing to start a conversation rose exponentially.

As one strode with this random stranger, one would again notice the dark alleys that the people tended to avoid as if by instinct.

When asked why the dark alleys were so strangely dead, the Kaonian would become suddenly hesitant, eyeing a passed alley warily before stopping to explain such a reaction. 'Tis where the Demon dwells they would say in a hushed whisper, motioning towards it. No sane Kaonian dared enter them nowadays. Oh, they used to teem with bad activity an orn or so ago, but ever since She showed up on the scene they were avoided like the plague. Any ill-doer who entered them tended not to come out alive, found mortally wounded or dead soon afterwards. If ye knew what was good for ye, ye'd stay away from them alleys they would warn. Don't use 'em as shortcuts no matter how late ye were. Don't use 'em as dealing places, for ye'd get your neck slit if ye did. Don't use 'em to hide, for She saw all that happened in the dark.

But who is She? the innocent newcomer would ask, helm tilting to one side curiously.

The Kaonian would then shrug. No one knew. Some said She was a vengeful lost spark who hunted the sort who had slain Her, eternally searching for Her killer. Others said She was an enforcer sent by Primus himself to handle the growing amount of criminals roaming Cybertron's surface, a few untouchable by the law, many others not so much. A rare few thought She was a rogue agent of Unicron, but that lot weren't to be believed, for why would an agent of chaos remove the chaotic element? The less superstitious viewed her simply as the city's staunch protector, keeping criminals away from the unwary and innocent the instant evening fell. She was harsh in Her judgement She was, but 'twas simply the way Her mind worked. Petty thief or homicidal murderer, it didn't matter yer transgression – ye were equal prey for the Demon. Any who strayed from the path of right were soon in Her clutches. As long as ye were in Kaon, the stranger said, ye'd best behave yerself whilst out wanderin' these streets at night, lest ye become Her latest victim. Obey the laws and ye had nothing to fear from Her. She would protect you from harm if ye did. Attempt any funny business and there was a good chance ye'd end up in one of them alleys bleedin' yer life out and prayin' for mercy from above, so it was best to stay on Her good side as long as ye were in Her city. This was Her city after all, and She protected it with the fierceness of a Predacon.

With that grim warning, the stranger would then disappear. The still-puzzled newcomer would then be left to gaze at the dark alley, understanding now why it was so oddly devoid of life, and wonder who exactly this protective Demon truly was.

Night had fallen on the city. Light from Cybertron's twin moons washed the industrial city from above, but the soft silvery light never pervaded the dark alleys. It seemed to instead shy away from such areas out of fright or apprehension. The pale light of the heavens above knew better than to illuminate what shouldn't be seen by the faint of spark, a means of warning Kaon's underworld inhabitants to stay away from these areas unless they wanted a date with Death.

Running down an empty, grimy side street ran a grey and burnt orange vehicle former whose body faintly resembled that of a hyena, his red optics filled with primal terror. His run was stumbling, frantic, unsteady but quick. His air intakes were ragged and short from running such a great distance in such a short time. Just barely visible on his door wings was a purple Decepticon crest coated in fresh Energon. In one hand he held an energy knife dripping with the same fresh fuel, the little droplets leaving a faintly glowing trail behind him, but he heeded not this mistake.

Taking a turn at random, he found himself at a dead end, looking up at a side wall of an apartment complex. There was no way he could climb that. He was no Geckoid, and certainly not a flier. Too late did he realize that he'd doomed himself. He chose to put his backstrut to the wall for safety, red optics wildly flicking around for some sign of the one who pursued him. But how could you see something that couldn't be seen? That was the worst part in Packhound's mind – he was standing there waiting for his death to arrive, waiting for the moment that horrible scythe cut through him, waiting for the moment She would end him.

"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to kill that mech! It was supposed to be an easy job to rob the joint, but he fought back with a blaster! What was I supposed to do, let him shoot me?!"

No reply came aside from a faint howling of the wind and the low chugging of Cybertron's inner workings. Rather than reassure him, this silence only served to make his terror grow. Then, then...he heard Her, the voice of the Demon herself, seeming to come from all around him. His air intakes came even faster when he heard it, his spark pounding in his chest so fast he thought it might burst. Then he felt a hot, tingling sensation on his cheek that felt all too like an energy blade. He whimpered as it dragged down and stopped at his neck.

"Everyone has a choice, Decepticon. You simply made the wrong one, and now you pay for it in equal measure. You took a life this night out of fear, and so yours must end in the same manner."

It wasn't how he'd expected it to sound, not at all. It was soft, low, seductive, like the sweet kiss of a lover. He was alarmed that some of his fear vanished on hearing her speak despite the words being her judgement being passed. He fought the base urge to reach out and try to touch her even if he had no idea where she actually was. But there didn't seem to be any emotion in her voice. It was flat, absent of all the anger he thought she'd be feeling over what he had done to deserve her pursuit of him. He had expected outrage. Instead, he got nothing. And that was just as unnerving as if she had been mad at him. She was no passionate killer. She was a murder drone.

He felt the energy blade removed, knowing full well she hadn't left for better prey, but rather was setting up to slice him to pieces. He tried to make a last ditch effort to run, only to find he couldn't move. Packhound was uncertain whether or not this paralysis was due to his own fear or some diabolical device she'd used to pin him against the wall. As far as he was concerned it was black magic at work, further proof to him that this was no ordinary femme, but a monster straight from the Pit. He begged, entreated – he'd make up for his crime if she just let him go, just gave him a chance to do so! He swore on the Allspark he'd never harm anyone ever again! He'd be good! He'd convert!

Only too late did Packhound pick up the soft rush of air as the scythe was swung. He emitted one last scream of pure terror, or at least tried to, but it was cut short by the sickening sound of a main line being ruptured, his Energon spurting onto the walls and onto an invisible obstacle, the mech choking on his own life blood. And then the sound of Packhound's body hitting the ground, glowing blue fuel still spurting from his sliced neck cables. He choked once, twice, hands gripping his neck, then was silent and still.

The air above him shimmered like a mirage, briefly revealing his assassin – a Seeker femme blacker than ink and accented with blood red highlights, dark red optics burning with a dark, hellish ember in their depths. And then, like a phantom, she shimmered and vanished, leaving her slain victim in the alley.

Sentenza awoke with a gasp, feeling as though her whole body had been dipped into a vat of liquid nitrogen. Her spark pounded in its chamber, her Predacon yellow optics wide and glazed with horror. Every lunar cycle of so she'd get one of these nightmares – terrible, horrible nightmares that made her shudder, sometimes even making her sick to her tanks, and which she remembered vividly afterwards for all time. But the worst part was that she knew they weren't just bad dreams meant to torment her brief cycles of power down. Oh, how she devoutly wished they were. How she wished she could just forget them.

No. She knew. These weren't just nightmares. They were memories. She couldn't just dismiss them as the result of an overactive, tense, and stressed processor. She had to live with the fact that she'd done that to the Decepticon who'd killed a mech trying to rob him. As an officer of the law, albeit a privately employed one, it was basic ethics to never take the law into ones own hands. She skirted ethics every now and again in her quest to remove the criminal element, but she had good intentions when doing so. But a few nights ago, her other half had taken over and she had become judge, jury, and executioner.

Giving a shuddering sigh, she forced herself up from her berth with the intent of getting a little high grade to calm her nerves, stretching her stiff limbs and wings as she went out of her room. While she typically reserved such indulgences for after completing a hard case, a reward to herself for a job well done, right now she felt she seriously needed a small cube of the stuff to keep herself sane. That had been the worst episode in a while, both the attack and the ensuring memory-mare. She needed a pick-me-up, something to steady her.

The black and red Seeker femme rummaged around in a small, safe-like device and pulled out a powerfully glowing cube of the blue fuel, pouring a small amount into a smaller cube used as a glass. Then she put it back and went over to a table and sofa in her little apartment lounge, plunking down and propping her pedes up onto the low piece of flattened, highly polished titanium, her wings held limply at her sides as she every so often sipped at the liquid, feeling the warmth from it settle in her tanks. Within about three breems the little glass was empty. It was thus placed on the table, and the femme relaxed, letting her optics shutter. Ah, that was much better. That had been just what she had needed...

She must've dozed off from the effects. The next thing she knew her land-femme, Camber, was buzzing her on her comm. link. She roused herself with slight effort and pinged her back, asking what was the matter and why she'd tried to ping her five times successively. Was there an emergency that needed tending to?

*There's some officers down here in the office askin' to see ye miss, from Praxus they are. Says they wants to have words with ye. Shall I let them up, or are ye feelin' fit enough to come down and see what they want from ye? They're quite polite but they're very persistent.*

She considered this for a moment, her curiosity mounting. What would bring some officers from Praxus all the way to Kaon, and why to her and not to the main law enforcement station? In her opinion that would be a little more natural. "Let them up, Camber. I'll see them in my rooms."

*Understood. They're on their way up to ye now, miss. Mayhaps they're lookin' to hire ye?*

"Maybe. We'll see. Here's hoping..."

The Seeker femme cut the line and set about doing a bit of tidying up of her lounge. Most officers who came to visit her were from Kaon or else Iacon, and she knew many of them by name, since she'd aided them on a case more than once. None of them knew of her other half. She had deemed such knowledge too dangerous to be in outside hands. They just saw her as a skilled private detective with a few emotional and behavioral quirks that took some getting used to. But having visitors from a city thousands of kliks away? That was new to her, and she wanted to make a good first impression in case they did in fact wish to employ her.

Just as she was finishing, the door to her apartment slid open. Striding in was a very tall, well-built red and purple Seeker accompanied by a smaller golden and silver land-based mech, the latter's optics concealed by a tinted pale golden visor, but even with the visor the smaller mech wore she could tell his gaze was fixated on her in intense curiosity. His companion, whom she recognized vaguely as Commander Aegis of the fifteenth precinct, appeared interested in first the room, then the owner of said room. Obviously he was the observer of the group, taking in everything before focusing on the centerpiece. The smaller grounder was the one to get right to the point, something she could appreciate. Both wore the crests of Praxus Homicide Investigation.

"Sentenza?" asked the Seeker mech, seemingly having a bit of trouble pronouncing her unusual name.

"Yes. What brings you mechs to my humble little abode?" she wondered, motioning for them to have a seat and make themselves comfortable, "Can I get either of you anything? You must've had quite a long journey of it. Praxus is a ways away from here."

They both politely declined her offer. Still the smaller grounder mech was riveted on her as though transfixed, but still the visor remained down. This got her curious. Could he not see without it, or did he maybe have some sort of other optic problem that demanded he use it at all times? Was he just keeping it down out of formality, perhaps? She knew some mechs and femmes with optic visors who did that. And yet she was sensing there was more to it than that. There had to be a concrete reason for him to be keeping it down other than out of a sense of civil etiquette.

"See something you like?" she wondered, saucily innocent and playful, giving him a piercing look through her Predacon yellow optics.

The smaller mech jolted, helm lowering abashedly. "Sorry. You're just...you aren't how I expected you to look from the reports. Please, forgive me for staring. I-I didn't mean to offend."

She snorted softly in amusement. Oh, very polite this one was. He seemed a bit of a goody-two-trods in her opinion, but she sensed a good spark in him. Maybe she should give him a chance and not dismiss him as a try-hard right away. He was handsome in a dulled, practical, yet somehow still flashy way, she wouldn't deny that, and his voice was rather charming in a quiet, gentlemechly way. He behaved and spoke in many ways like an upper class mech, but the casual, relaxed way he was holding himself even while sitting seemed to contradict that assumption blatantly. In actual fact, he behaved more like a regular officer, yet far more laid-back and easy going than most Praxian officers she had met in the past. This friendly, casual behavior was a little odd, but decidedly attractive.

"So, again, what brings you distinguished mechs to my home?"

Both mechs looked at each other, the smaller mech deferring to the rank of the larger Seeker mech.

"A contract," grunted Aegis simply. "You've heard about the mysterious deaths of laborers in Crystal City?"

Sentenza nodded once. Yes, she had heard about them. Random lower class mechs and femmes found dead in the underground tunnels that criss-crossed Cybertron. Faction badges scratched off; all had certain bio-mechanisms missing from their bodies, expertly removed as if by a master surgeon; little to no spilled Energon at the scenes, indicating they had all been terminated elsewhere. Time between the various deaths was also incredibly random. She knew of them well, but what about them? All of those deaths were a bit out of her neighborhood. She had a few contacts over there, but she worked mainly in the Kaon-Iacon regions.

Aegis folded one leg over another and began at last to explain the object of his visit:

"My precinct has been charged with solving the murders and arresting the one responsible, since their own law enforcement is too small to do much. They're a city of scientists, and they've never suffered any crimes like this before – most they've had are a few charges of accidental plagiarism of another's work or some mild skirting of ethics in their experiments; nothing major like serial murders. I suppose a city of geniuses knows better than to break the law so openly. Their sole precinct has pledged to assist us as best they can, but they need professional investigators for this one."

He focused his indigo gaze on her then, the one leg uncrossing as he sat up an leaned forward intently, pausing before continuing on:

"That's why I thought getting you on the task force would be a good idea. You're an expert on this sort of thing from all I've read about you. Serial killings are your specialty. And as it so happens, it's Counterforce's specialty, too. Having two experts should make solving this much easier, I think. I was taught that two processors are always better than one. Eh, detective? What do you say? Are you willing to lend us a hand on this case? We're willing to pay good for your troubles."

The Seeker femme started slightly, Predacon yellow optics fastening on the smaller golden and silver mech at his side. So this was the famed Counterforce, was it? Hm. Not quite what she had expected from the most celebrated homicide investigator in Praxus and possibly on all of Cybertron. He wasn't conceited like most celebrity officers tended to be, strutting about with their own importance, nor was he intensely vocal – he was quiet, modest, someone who thought things through before voicing anything. A considerate sort all around, and someone who clearly held rigid beliefs concerning right and wrong due to his successes against murderers and criminals in general.

And having the fifteenth precinct, not to mention Counterforce of all mechs, in her subspace pocket was a distinct advantage in the long run...

"Alright. I'm in, but on one condition. I want ckv behl. I must be able to go where I want and do what I want. Is that permissible?"

Without any hesitation, Aegis said it was granted. He saw no objection to such a request.

With that, both mechs rose and made to exit, the taller Seeker mech pausing briefly to say he would be expecting her arrival at Praxus within a few solar cycles – that would give her time enough to gather whatever things she needed for the investigation and make her way over. He also handed her a small holo-card that provided the precinct's location. Then he vanished out of the sliding doors with a friendly but authoritative tip of his helm at her. She wasn't a fan of military types normally, but Aegis she had to admit she tolerated. He still had that formal air about him that military types tended to have, but he was definitely friendlier than, say, someone like the infamously stiff Ultra Magnus.

Rather than follow on his commander's heel struts, elected instead to linger on the threshold, hidden optics focused on the black and red Seeker femme who stood across from him, arms folded over her chest plates, one brow ridge arched. Something about her fascinated him, and it wasn't just her exotic design or her attractive voice print. It went beyond that which could be seen and heard by optic and audial alone. There was an air of...of dark mystery and intrigue that surrounded her that demanded he look deeper for answers to the questions swirling in his processor: Why was that air of darkness there? Was it there by choice or outside force? Why were her wings held so tautly, a blatant indicator of stress, and why was her field and plating pulled so tightly against her frame?

No theories came. Blank.

She continued to look at him, finally prompting him to speak on asking simply: "Yeah? Something the matter, Goldie?"

He tilted his Raptorial helm to one side, a very faint smile forming at the granted nickname, but there was a certain severity in his countenance as he asked:

"Why did you request cvk behl, detective? Aegis hired you as a private individual, and you would've had full access to the precinct's resources regardless. That comes with being assigned as my partner for this case, after all. And we both know of your network of contacts – any self-respecting precinct on Cybertron does! Frankly it makes us official 'Bots look lazy to a remarkable extent. I do hope I'm not nosing into something that's not my business, but I'm just curious as to...well, why? It seems a bit excessive if you don't mind my saying so, almost unnecessary."

The investigator took note a sudden, imperceptible tensing of her frame and a deep hesitation that bordered on fear in her optics. Her wings twitched once, lowered. She took a step away from him. He thus realized his question was actually a very personal one, and he had, however innocently, opened up a fresh wound. Mentally he slapped himself for his shortsightedness. In his quest for an answer to his many questions, he had inadvertently hurt her. So much for getting off to a good start with his partner.

"...I-I'm sorry. Have a put my pede in it?"

Sentenza emitted a soft, reluctant sounding sigh. She remained silent for a moment, then replying, her voice almost a mumble in volume but still clear and concise:

"Look, let's just say I have personal reasons in asking for cvk behl from you boys. Maybe at some point in the future I'll be at liberty to tell you what those reasons are, once I'm certain I can trust you with the information, but for now...just drop it, okay? As a favor to me."

Counterforce nodded understandingly. He then turned, and, with another infinitely curious but sympathetic glance back at her and a friendly twitch of his doorwings, he left. When the doors slid shut behind him, he had the grimly specific sense of a tomb being sealed, and yet he felt it wasn't to keep others out. No, that's not what it felt like to him. What he felt unnerved him greatly. It felt more like the metaphorical tomb was meant to keep something in. But what? What in the name of Primus was the Seeker, who had been quite civil in her conversation with he and Aegis, be trying to keep imprisoned, so desperately hidden from the optics of others?

Despite the hall not being cold, he shivered.

She hadn't realized she'd been slowing her air intakes and cooling fans ever since the two Praxians had come in. As soon as the door to her rooms hissed shut she let out a relieved gust of hot air from her vents, wings drooping from the ever so slightly hitched-up positions, field sneaking out of hiding by a minuscule amount. She leaned against the nearest wall as if exhausted. Hiding was exhausting, but she had to do it. They couldn't know. She wouldn't let them know. They were nice mechs. They didn't need to know. They'd probably arrest her if they ever did find out. She worked alone for a reason: working alone was safer. She had no liabilities that way, and no one would ever have to see her turn into what she feared and hated most.

But now she had to work with a Praxian precinct – a precinct who didn't know her, thousands of klicks from the familiarity of home. She groaned. Damn her conscience. She'd have to grin and bear it.

Sighing again, she pushed herself off the wall and went over to the window that looked onto the city, bathing in the warm light from the sun that streamed in through the thick glass. She longed to be able to cast off her inner shadows just long enough to enjoy a day out there in the city, not working, but she snorted at the idea in the end. She didn't belong out there, in the light. She was doomed to wander in the shadows.

'Yes, you do belong out there,' argued a little voice in her helm, 'If you'd only try...'

She snorted, pushed the insistent little voice of hope aside. Hope was too fragile for her, leading inevitably to disappointment. The Seeker femme drew away from the window then despite her desire to sunbathe a little longer. She so loved the warmth it brought to her perpetually cold frame, but she had things to do to prepare – namely alerting her Crystal City contacts she would be dropping by for a business visit for a while, along with a list of minor preparations. Aegis had given her a few solar cycles, true – that didn't mean she had to appear lazy by showing up at the last klik. An early start was always a good thing when it came to serial crimes. And she wasn't about to let another innocent die.

Sentenza thus went about her rooms gathering her things: a data pad for note-taking and inputting gathered information, her kit of forensics tools, a small can of armor polish (she liked looking her best when working), plus a two seemingly random items she took with her everywhere. These final ones seemed more befitting to be carried around by a sparkling than a full-fledged adult femme – items like a worn stuffed panther her Guardians had gotten for her when she was younger whom she had affectionately dubbed "Niv", and a small solar powered ion lamp. Fail-safes and comfort items, both. The last she wanted was the Nightdemon getting out in Praxus.

That done, she pinged Camber below to tell her the news:

"Hey, Cam? Got a job offer from those two cops that came up. Gonna be in Praxus and Crystal City for a while. Serial murders. Mad Doctor case."

*Oh, miss, that's wonderful – not the murders o' course. I meant the job offer. Bein' cooped up in your rooms all the time ain't good for ye. I always says a good bit o' sunshine and socializing a little does a femme a world of good. I just wish that socializin' didn't entail lookin' at dead bodies an' the like, but I'm not one to judge a femme by her occupation. Best of luck to ye, dear! Lay that fiend by the heel struts!*

She smiled faintly. "Thanks, Cam. I will. See you in a bit. Watch my rooms for me."

*O' course, dear. That's my job. Oh, and do tell me all about it when you get back, would ye? I always like hearing you tell about yer work. But, ah, keep the gristly details to a minimum, aye? You know I don't do gore.'

Still smiling faintly and promising she would, Sentenza severed the line, grabbed her things, and headed out the doors.

High above the metal plains that interspersed shot a sleek black and red aircraft, engine screaming as it raced through the open skies. On crossing a region known as the Expanse, a small pack of Canipids, whom she recognized as the well-known and friendly Blue Moon tribe who inhabited the region, yipped up at her and followed beneath her for a while, chasing her shadow like overexcited pups. Out of courtesy she flashed some of her red wing lights down at them, earning more excited yips and barks. Then she gunned her thrusters and rocketed onwards.

*Back! Back! Pretty shadow come back! Please?* they barked at her over short band before she got out of range.

*Sorry, boys. Busy.*

They whined and eventually withdrew.

A more logical part of her processor told her that taking a groundbridge from one of Kaon's precincts would be a faster way of getting to Praxus, but flying would enable her to soak in some much needed sunlight to charge the ion lamp sitting in her cockpit, not to mention that flying always served to lighten her mood. The sense of freedom and weightlessness it gave was better than the stupor provided by the medical grade sedatives by far. It was a longer trip this way, but far more beneficial. Plus, it was rather nice out. Why shouldn't she enjoy the trip? Once she got to Praxus it would be all work.

About half a joor passed rather uneventfully before the city of Praxus began to emerge on the horizon, its tall buildings laid out with near mathematically strategy. It was quite a difference from the sprawling, somewhat randomized layout of Kaon, but in a strange way refreshing to look at, being much better organized. But that was often the result if well over half the inhabitants were ex or current military. They liked things rigid, well-defined. She flew into the city's limits, recalling the coordinates provided by Aegis's holo-card. Judging by them the precinct was located just on the outskirts of the city's downtown sector. That made sense. From what she knew, Aegis's precinct was the leading one, so having it right on the edges of the busiest place in the city made their lives a little easier – more 'Bots meant more information.

She flew high above the city, scanning the sectors below for what she sought. In the end, she found it. It wasn't a very impressive building in terms of architecture. It was large, more of a small complex than a single building, but also not very tall – only about five stories from the looks of it. And yet there was a ruggedness, a gruff charm to it that reminded her a little of home. The precinct was no architectural beauty, certainly nothing compared to the grand Hall of Records in Iacon, but it was sturdy and got the job done. Still, she thought it could use an artistic flair or three. The precinct was too visually dull for her tastes. Banking, she circled lower until she reached the front entrance. On duty at the doors was a young patrol officer who silently nodded her in, barely casting her a sideways glance. Out of insulted impulsiveness she flashed the mech a bewitching smile and flittered her wings at him as she sauntered past, noting with childlike pleasure the double take he did when interpreting her playful flirtations accurately. But she was through the doors and out of sight before the baffled, intrigued young mech could even kick his vocalizer into gear.

Once inside, she resumed a more professional air, stopping at a side office and inquiring, as she remained outside, where Aegis and Counterforce were. She added that they were expecting her.

The door was instantly opened to reveal a familiar golden and silver grounder mech, pale golden visor still down and mouth slightly agape. He looked like a startled golden statue. She could practically imagine him blinking in shock behind that visor of his. Then a pleasant smile formed.

"Detective? I-I, well, I honestly wasn't expecting you here so soon!"

She gave another bewitching smile that, to her pleasure, he didn't seem entirely immune to, "You'll find I'm full of surprises, Goldie. Now, are you gonna invite me in like a good host and fill me in on all the case facts?"

He started slightly. "Oh! Of course. Sorry. Please, come in. Have a seat."

Counterforce bade her enter into his modestly sized but very well organized office, pulling out a chair for her that sat opposite his side of the desk. Sentenza took note of the magna-board off to one side of the room, covered in holo-notes, neat handwriting, and photographs of crime scenes and evidence. She took note of the rows of data pads sitting on the mech's desk like rows of books in a terrestrial library, all neatly arranged into groups, each section labeled on the spines with titles such as "Evidence," "Witness Testimony," "Possible Suspects," and the like. The data pads were further organized by case file designation on their spines. A very organized mech in general – a trait no doubt helpful to him in his career. Maybe not the most attractive thing in the world though. Too serious.

While still unable to see his optics, she sensed they were busy flicking through the labels of the data pads. Within only a few moments he located the one he needed and expertly shimmied it out of its place in the "Evidence" row. He quickly skimmed through the contents and then began:

"First victim, mech, was found about two groons ago in one of the sub-surface transport tunnels below the Crystal City Academy of Science. Medic on the scene judged him as having been dead at least two joors. Faction badge missing; plainly removed. Detailed examination revealed his t-cog to have been surgically removed in a very amateurish or perhaps rushed manner. Killer severed a main Energon line in the process. Poor mech bled out, but we don't know where. Not even a Predacon tracker could find the actual death point. Most likely cleaned up. Later identified by some of the scientists within the facility as a low-level custodian in the building named Blackguard. No enemies. Good reputation from all accounts."

He handed her the data pad.

"This was the first killing?" Sentenza repeated.

"Yes. As a side note there were traces of anesthetic chemicals in his system. Faint but detectable. The medical examiner smartly pointed out that Blackguard must've been unawares during the removal of his t-cog. That shows the killer has at least basic knowledge of medicine and anesthesiology."

"And the others?"

"Much the same, though the killer became more and more skilled in the removal process. Paradoxically the victims all still ended up dying from a main line breach – a fast death, but unavoidably messy. Each had their faction badge removed along with one or more bio-mechanisms ranging from t-cog's to fuel tank filtrators to even optics and parts of processors."

She frowned. That was odd. The killer became more and more skilled in the extraction of parts but the victims still died anyway?

"Any definite suspects?" asked the Seeker after a moment of silence.

The Praxian grabbed another data pad, explaining:

"We started out fairly broad as you can imagine, but we've narrowed it down to Crystalline surgeons working at the Academy. One in particular we've got our optics on – name's Vertebreak. Decepticon surgical and cyber-grafting student. Not a stable personality by all accounts. He's gotten in trouble with the Academy more than once by breaking regulations and dangerously skirting ethics. But other than one or two psych evaluations that plainly judge him as unstable we've got no way of saying he's the one behind these deaths. Unstable doesn't necessarily mean dangerous."

"You need more evidence, huh?"

He managed a wry smile. "Unfortunately."

She rose. "Well. Let's get to it then, shall we?"

Author's Note: Oooh, yes. Here we go guys! CSI: Crystal City! x3