Nature of the Beast

One-Shot: Playful Pranks and Hilarious Hijinks

*People have loved Backdraft's personality so far ever since I gave him some time to shine in a "lull" chapter. So, I've decided the playful little goof needs some love in the form of a one-shot. :) This'll expand a little more on his recent history, but not his younger years. No fights in this one-shot just Backdraft being himself in Altihex. This'll be one of the most light-hearted, silly one-shots I've done since "Oculus Rosea" for Autobots, Assemble. I'm thinking about giving each of my characters some far more individualized time to shine, like I've done with Charity, Sen, CF, and Zodiac. Frostbite's gotten a few mentions but he hasn't gotten a one-shot or one-shot chapter to himself.

*Hope you enjoy! :3 Goofs galore incoming!


ALTIHEX
NORTHWEST QUADRANT
LATE MORNING

Strolling along the street semi-dancing and humming a lively, bouncy tune was a flamboyant young mech colored like a roaring fire. He seemed to be in a world of his own, but everyone he passed recieved a cheerful greeting, a friendly wave, or a combination of the two. Some laughed in return, some smiled, and some returned the greeting in good nature. Every response he got seemed to make his amber optics glow brighter. When a trio of femmes walked by he offered a casual salute and a wink, earning giggles from the smallest one and humorous glares from the taller two. He shrugged as he passed them by, smiling broadly. He heard all three laugh once they were well past him.

"He's cute!" one whispered.

"Uh, Swivet? You realize who that was, right?" deadpanned another.

"So?"

The third femme warned her smaller friend: "That guy's rap sheet could probably drop all the way to the bottom of the Well. Easy. Pretty sure his tveta down there says 'I'm a trouble maker! LOL!' followed by a list of his biggest incidents."

The mech laughed. Well, that might be exaggerating things a bit but he he chose to take it as a compliment instead of an insult. Causing merry mischief came with its own set of risks, and sometimes the cops weren't always on the same page as him. They took a bit of conversion before that happened. Cops were all about the basic rules even here in Altihex. You cause a little too much trouble for their liking and you got your butt hauled in. Oh, well. Life was life. The mech had learned to roll with the punches and turn them into something fun. In point of fact he'd never been in a police station for more than a night – and that was mostly because the officers in there were bawled over laughing by the pre-dawn hours and demanded their chief take him out before they died of hysteria. None of the precincts treated him a a crook. Because Backdraft was anything but a crook. He was more like an amiable thorn in their sides that went from thorn to best bud over the course of a dozen overnights. A few cops would even "arrest" him just so they could have his company for a while.

Personally he thought of himself as a walking comedy show for the big mech below. It had to get a bit boring for him having to watch politicians do politician stuff and some 'bots leading humdrum, everyday lives. Why not give the guy a little harmless, friendly entertainment to liven his solar cycle, eh? Even gods needed a laugh every now and again, right?

His dance slowed as he looked up on hearing the sounds of engines and other, more bestial noises. He was just in time to see a Seeker squadron called the Hexers race overhelm in a tight Altihexian Ax formation. At the head of the ax flew a great winged Felioid whose dark orange body was striped with black, bright green optics focused on the air ahead of and around it. On either "hook" of the ax flew another winged Felioid, leaner than their leader. The lead beast let out a short bark of a roar and entire team clocked ninety degrees in perfect sync. Another bark-roar and they flipped upright again. A Seeker behind the lead beast gave an order and the team split apart seamlessly, each hook pulling away. Just in time too – the squadron's maneuver let them gracefully avoid a tall spire, the lead beast flipping over the tip like a sparked acrobat. He lost sight of them after that.

Backdraft's smile broadened. 'Gotta love the Tigerhawks. Those guys really know how to fly with style.'

The mech's dance resumed, brighter in step than before. The song previously confined to his helm escaped through his vocalizer at last. He kind of felt bad for other city 'bots who were afraid of Predacons. They weren't anything to be afraid of. So what if they looked different or had different norms? Altihexians made a political statement out of being as individual and different from each other as possible. Preds like the Tigerhawks and the nomadic Blue Moons and Sky Painters added some lively color to the city he called home. Pit, a few Tigers had even formed Trines with a couple of select Seekers – and boy had that caused some turned helms and controversy from other cities. He could almost imagine (inaccurately for the sake of humor, of course) the thoughts of conservative Councilors like Contrail whenever that had happened, 'cause it still happened to this very solar cycle:

"Whoa, bro! That's crossing the line! Preds are dangerous! They'll eat you!"

Meanwhile, Altihexians were sharing confused glances, shrugging and going "What the heck is the big deal?"

But politics had never really been his favorite subject. Too much arguing and wirebush-beating and not enough agreements or compromises for his tastes. He was just thankful Altihex had a sensible Councilor in the form of Screwloose. More than some other cities could say. Yes, the city who had a Councilor named "Screwloose" was one of the most sensible 'bots on the Council.

He shook his helm to clear the last dregs of downer thinking. The sun was shining on a beautiful morning, the city pulsed with life all around him, and he'd just gotten out of an overnight cell. That was a recipe for a good solar cycle. And he had never been one to pass up a beautiful solar cycle like this. Weather was ripe for some merry mischief. There was even a nice north wind.

He laughed. It was like the big guy (maybe his boss too) was sending him a message: "Have fun! Make this city smile! Make it laugh! Entertain me!"

Alright then. But where to first? There were so many places to go to or visit on such a fine morning. The solar cycle had only just begun!

Laughing, he transformed and seamlessly melted into the oncoming traffic. A morning this beautiful demanded you avoid the indoors, and a chance to stretch his wheels after being cooped in a cell for the night was too tempting to pass up.


He drove aimlessly for a while, no real destination in mind. The bustling city center drew into the near distance.

"Hey! Backdraft! Over here!" a jovial male voice called.

His attention spun from the road ahead of him to his right. No one else seemed to have noticed the call. Normally that might be considered a little weird or disconcerting, but this had happened to him before – ever since he'd pledged himself to the Shifter in his younger cycles. That could only signal one 'bot in particular. He quickly pulled off the main road and down the alley. He switched modes. A smile bloomed on his faceplates. His amber optics burned a shade brighter.

Standing beneath a balcony, partially concealed by its shadow, was a rather ordinary looking mech a little taller than he was. Bright blue optics shone like stars, and his smile mimicked Backdraft's own. He seemed to exude an aura of friendly, laid-back playfulness. There was an energy, a power the stranger emitted. Yet he looked like some random guy you might meet walking down the street and then have trouble remembering if you were asked to remember him specifically. But no matter what form he took he couldn't hide that energy of his. He'd recognize that tingle in the air anywhere. Blindfolded.

He grinned. "Prank!"

There was no hesitation in his movements when he rushed forward and hugged the other mech. The gesture was happily returned. Being raised without a real Guardian, Prank had been the closest thing he had had to one in his younger cycles. But he felt more like an older sibling to him.

The smaller biker mech laughed and protested when Prank grabbed him in a headlock and proceeded to give him a noogie with a hand that now looked more like a Tigerhawk's than a regular city-dweller's. He was let go after a moment. The hand swapped back to normal even as he watched only for a trod to morph into one that belonged more on an Equinine than a regular mech. He'd seen this happen before. It was almost like Prank had no conscious control over the morphing and just let it happen. Since he knew who he really was, that kinda made some sense.

"Look at you!" beamed the morphing stranger happily, "There's somethin' different about you! No wait! Don't tell me!" He paused and looked him over. "New decals and a muffler mod, amiright?"

Backdraft laughed and displayed the new flame decals decorating his arm. Gleefully he swapped back to his alt. mode and made his engine purr loudly.

"You know how sensitive kids and Preds are to noise. Decided I'd get a mod that let me determine how loud I wanna be," he explained, "instead of just picking to be really loud or really quiet. Kid last night really appreciated it."

"Atta mech!" approved Prank. "Just because you like to be loud don't mean everyone else does. And what's this about a kid?"

He clarified:

"Oh! that. Little guy named Rut was past his curfew and had wandered pretty far from home with his Tigerhawk pal. Wound up getting a bit lost. I got the guy home as fast I could; the 'hawk followed me. Apparently I was going too fast and the cops honed in on me. Of course, the cops let me finish the delivery, and one of 'em took the Tigerhawk to a nearby clannie who could get him to his own Guardians. I just got out of the overnight cell this morning. No biggie. Had the cops keeled over laughing by pre-dawn like usual."

Prank broke out in his bright laughter again, slapping a hand to his leg. He clapped him on the back.

"You and your cop slumber parties!" he teased. An elbow was poked into his side.

Backdraft shrugged, smiling. He elbowed Prank back. Spending the night in a police precinct acting as a stand-up comedian and keeping the guys company. What wasn't to love? he argued.

"You should totally join me for one. They'd love you to death!" he exclaimed. He tapped a digit on his chin thoughtfully on realizing something: "'Course, that means you gotta get arrested first...Shouldn't be too hard for you, huh?"

Prank's smile grew a little wistful.

"Wish I could," he admitted frankly, "But I got a curfew I gotta obey myself, and I gotta keep a low profile here," He snorted. "Ironic, innit? The guy who can look like anybody has to keep below the radar."

The young biker mech pouted pitifully and gave the morphing stranger the best puppy dog look he could muster. Prank smiled back and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, kid. There are some rules even I won't break."

Backdraft knew there was no arguing it. They'd had this conversion or some version of it more than once. Much as he wanted Prank to visit more or hang around for longer, he understood what he meant. He himself had some rules he wouldn't break – lines he refused to cross. And so, like the times before this, he surrendered with a hanging helm.

"Okay, okay..." he sighed. "It's always worth a shot. Here's hoping one solar cycle you'll actually say yes."

Prank reached forward and lifted his chin up. The smile was still there.

"Hey. Come on now. No droopy attitudes. Stay positive! I'll have a talk with the boss. Maybe we'll reach a compromise."

He put on a smile for him. Some visits were better than none at all he supposed – and Prank would have a chat with his boss to see if they'd let him stick around for a shenanigan soiree with some of his agents. That made up for it.

"Atta mech," approved Prank warmly. "Keep up the good work, kid. I need good agents like you."

Backdraft's genuine, broad smile returned. He crisply saluted to the ordinary-looking mech before him.

"Yes, sir!"

Prank laughed and grabbed him one last time, rubbing a fist onto his helm until Backdraft squirmed free, laughing and grinning.

Oh! And before I forget!" Prank said. "Got a little something for you. Call it a present."

He handed him a canister of spray paint. Grinning, Backdraft took it. The label said it was bright neon orange – his favorite. He'd been running out of late. He then handed him another that was bright neon turquoise.

The deceptively normal looking stranger winked. "Have a little fun today, eh?"

A series of keens made the biker whip his helm around a look up. Three Sky Painters swooped and soared in one of their free-form aerial games, passing a small lob ball between each other and performing tricks with it: Fritillary, Downpour, and Minstrel. The trio was a varied bunch of color and design. But it seemed they hadn't heard him. All they did was call down to him cheerfully after spotting him and fly on after he waved back, passing the lob ball around. He chuckled. Smiling, he turned back to address the morphing stranger.

"Hey, Pra-"

But his words cut off. He blinked. Prank was gone. Like, gone gone. The alley was devoid of life apart from him now.

Backdraft still smiled. Prank always pulled this trick off.

"Y'know, you might as well just re-name yourself Bat-Mech..." he said. "You got that vanishing act down pat."

Rolling his optics, he darted back out into the main street.


As he drove he scanned the skies for the three Painters that had flown by. It took a few breems of searching to spot them, but spot them he did. He raced after them, skillfully weaving in and out of traffic. Prank had more than one agent in this city, and one of them so happened to be a close friend of his who signed himself to the Shifter alongside him: Hijinks. But he'd been in that cell for most of the afternoon and all last night. That was time enough for him to wander pretty far. If anyone had laid optics on him it would be a Seeker, a Painter, or a Tigerhawk.

"Frit!" he called up.

The three Painters slowed to a hover and glanced down. Downpour caught the ball in one of his talons, snagging it via a small loop-like cable.

"Hey there, 'Draft!" cried Fritillary.

"What up!" greeted the two mechs.

He wisely got off the street. They followed him, one alighting on a street lamp and the other on the curved chrome awning of a business.

"You guys seen 'Jinx anywhere?" he asked.

They shared glances.

"Sure!" said Minstrel. "Saw him heading for that construction site on the south side! Y'know – that new arena they're setting up for the Games?"

"Yeah, but knowin' that guy," drawled Downpour humorously, "there's no guarantee he'll still be there when you get there. You know how he is."

He grinned. Yep, he sure did. "Thanks!"

"No prob!"

"Sure!"

"Anytime!"

They took off and resumed their game. It was friendly interactions like this one that cemented Altihexian's relationship with Predacons – and their confusion as to why so many other 'bots didn't like or trust them. Give pleasant, get pleasant. Seriously. Common decency wasn't that hard of an idea to grasp. Even a lot of the 'Cons here got that.


"Get down from there ya crazy loon!"

That was the first thing Backdraft heard when he pulled up to the rising skeleton of the Games arena. They weren't for another few stellar cycles but an arena this size took time to construct.

Transforming, the young biker mech found a group of construction workers standing at the base of the structure, optics riveted on the form high above them. Some of them were even snorting back laughter. He followed their upward gazes up to the highest beams currently in place on the arena to find a familiar figure monkeying around: a pale copper Canipid mech accented in red and turquoise blue. He bore a bright silver and neon turquoise tattoo on one arm in the shape of a dancing Earth creature called a coyote playing an old Rust Age instrument called a czi'a. Odd combo but it looked great on him. The figure itself was playing a modern version of a czi'a, the airy notes flowing in a lively tune. A shimmering turbo-hawk feather hung from one of his long, pointed audials.

"Hijinks!" he called up to the figure. "Having fun up there, pal?!"

Hanging upside down from his legs, the Canipid mech's helm jerked downwards to reveal bright, impish green optics. The czi'a left his lip-plates.

"'Draft?!" Hijinks cried. "Where you been, brother?!"

Backdraft waved, smiling. A few of the construction workers greeted him while one or two mumbled what sounded like "Great...another a'almvus..." But those mumblers were, he noticed, trying hard not to smile. Agents of Amalgamous were treated as playful sparklings in this city who were possibly in need of protection. Very few considered them a genuine nuisance. Many were welcomed into homes in need of someone to look after their kid for a while if they were busy elsewhere. Some even outright refused payment, enjoying the games and play as much as the sparkling.

"Oh, y'know! Just the usual! Cop slumber party!" Backdraft shouted in reply.

Hijinks broke out in hysterical laughter, arms holding his sides. His laughter might as well have been a contagious disease. Not even the mumbling, ever-so-slightly-annoyed builders were immune to it. Soon enough the whole group was laughing.

"You a'almvi just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" griped the foremech humorously.

Backdraft winked and smiled. "Aw, come on. It's not like we mean to get in trouble, Truss! We just like to kid around, make 'bots laugh. We don't cause harm."

A worker by name of Veranda argued wisely: "Yeah, well if he don't get down from there he might hurt himself. Stuff hasn't been properly supported just yet. Not to mention we're supposed to be workin' on that section so we can reinforce it. Can't have it fallin' on the spectators in high winds. Or fallin' on us while we work on it for that matter."

Hijinks heard the complaint and blinked. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't realize! I thought you would work your way up!"

There was a faint flash of turquoise light and Hijinks's form disappeared off the beam. Some of the workers jumped in spite of themselves when he reappeared before them a half astrosecond later, smiling innocently and apologetically. He apologized to the foremech with a slight bow of his helm. The foremech chortled, clapping him on the back. Truss said it was alright. He could even stick around if he wanted to so long as he didn't impede their work. Hijinks's wide smile returned.

"Maybe your friend could help us out?" he suggested, focusing on Backdraft, "Heard from Stucco that he's lent crews a bit of advice and help now and again."

The young biker mech grinned and saluted. "Happy to help, chief!"


Later...

It hadn't taken long for Backdraft to turn the lower, stronger sections of the arena into a jungle gym. He spun around support vertical beams and wire-walked on the horizontal ones – to test their strength but also to have a little fun in the process. Hijinks hung upside down from a beam above him, continuing his air tune to the enjoyment of the workers. He didn't recognize the song so he had to assume he was either making it up as he went or it was a tribal song not often heard outside the pack.

"So...When we're done here..." Backdraft prompted slyly, sliding around a vertical beam to balance precariously on one trod on a connecting horizontal one.

Hijinks's tune stopped. He looked down at the biker mech. "Yeah?"

"You up for a little merry mischief? I got some new spray paint..." He displayed the neon orange canister suggestively. The other was held in a lean saddlebag on his hip.

The Canipid mech's turquoise optics widened as a smile split his faceplates. "No...you're not meaning...?"

"Oh yeah. Assignment from up top, ro-bro. You gonna say no to the big boss? You know what gifts from him mean."

Hijinks's hysterical laughter split the air again. Some of the workers looked up curiously.

"Of course not, brother! I'm totally in! Any idea what the boss has in mind? Like, did he detail the assignment at all?"

Backdraft shrugged and admitted Prank hadn't said anything much in the way of assignment specifics. He'd just said to "have some fun." Considering they now had spray paint specially made for agents of the Shifter Prime, things could get hilarious in a sparkpulse. The stuff had some very peculiar qualities you didn't find in regular spray paints, and it drove maintenance 'bots absolutely crazy because of that.

"So...you got a target in mind, brother?" Hijinks wondered.

The biker mech swung up to the higher beam his friend was on and took a seat, letting one leg dangle. It was a broad catalog they had to pick from here. Altihex had a lot of buildings. Council Hall was off the board, though. Screwloose didn't need any trouble from them even if he happily endorsed the Shifter's agents to spread mirth across his city.

"I dunno. What do you think?"

Hijinks considered for a moment before answering: "Think we could pay a visit to a foundling home? Haven't visited the little biters for a while. We could leave our mark on the walls...they'd enjoy that. Oh! Or we could leave one of the Shifter's proverbs. Or both! We could do both, right? We could have some fun on the way! We could even leave some marks here, on this place!"

The biker mech's smiled broadened. That sounded picture perfect to him.

"Oi! Jinxy!" called a worker high above them. "Could you bring up some some of that lube? The lift's stuck!"

"Right-ho!"

Hijinks disappeared down to ground level, snagged a small container of industrial-grade lube lying near a pile of beams, and teleported up to where the worker was. Backdraft heard the two exchange thanks and pleasantries. He shook his helm with a smile and a chuckle. He guessed that with a teleporter present the workers would take advantage of it. A look up did show the lift the workers were using to ascend did indeed appear as if it had jammed for some reason. Soon enough, Hijinks reappeared, crouched on the beam above him.

"So?"

Backdraft dug into the slim saddlebag on his hip and tossed his fellow a'almvus his canister of spray paint. The playful Blue Moon caught it. He held up his own, rattling it.

"Let's get to work."

Hijinks teleported to his side, put a hand on him, and together they teleported down to ground level where the workers were not. Truss glanced at them, on ground level as he was supervising his crew. There was a look on his faceplates that warned them not to cause any major trouble. Two digits hovered over his optics and were then pointed at them in a classic "I'm watching you..." gesture. There was however a smile on his lip-plates. Truss knew well enough it was a pointless endeavor to tell them to stay out of trouble – it was their mission to cause mischief. But then again it never hurt to give them the warning...maybe one solar cycle they'd listen to it. Digits crossed.

Putting on innocently angelic little smiles, Hijinks teleported them around the other side of the arena. Snickering, they each began spraying a message in flowing calligraphic glyphs on the interior side of the massive support beams that held up the entrance – one in bright neon orange, the other in shimmering neon turquoise; one in Canipian, the other in modern Altihexian. At the end of the messages, they left their signatures: Backdraft's was a little stylized lick of a fire and Hijinks's being a tinnier, simplified version of his tribal tattoo. It took them almost a breem and a half to finish both. Once done the two shared a high-five.

"We're getting in so much trouble for this." Hijinks snickered.

"Nah," Backdraft dismissed casually, "Remember: we're only in trouble if we get caught!"

"Hey!"

They spun. A patrol officer stood there, lean and lithe. Hijinks could hear her engine prepping, and just from the sound of it he knew this was a Chaser, not just a patrol officer. They were trained and built for high speed pursuits. And since they didn't recognize her that meant she was most likely a transfer from out of town. Not good. From that combat stance alone he judged her either as Tyger Paxian, Canyon Dweller, or Kaonian.

"Mech, we're in trouble..." Hijinks decided quickly.

"What do you think you're doing? This is a work zone!" She spotted the canisters as they were sheepishly hidden behind their backstruts. "Are those...? Are you vandalizing?!"

The two mechs shared a glance, spotting a familiar form behind her. Backdraft gave his friend a sly smile and a thumbs up. Trouble was gone. They were good.

"Oh! thank you, madam! I'm so glad you found them!"

The Chaser jumped. A regular looking 'bot had strolled up behind her and come around to shake her hand. He now strolled over to the two mischief makers. The look of confusion on her faceplates nearly made them laugh. He began to shepherd them away. The Chaser appeared rooted in her spot, apparently torn between her frozen state of confusion and tearing after them like a starving scraplet.

"What are you doing here?" Hijinks whispered to the stranger.

The mysterious stranger winked and whispered back: "Just follow my lead..."

"Are you their legal Guardian?" the Chaser asked once she was out of he confused stupor. She jogged after them.

"You...could say that..." admitted the stranger with a disarming, pleasant smile.

Her hostility simmered up on noticing the stranger was gradually leading the miscreants away from her. Frankly, she didn't recognize him as one of the locals and he could be a trouble maker of even greater proportions. She noticed them speed up their pace, earning more ire. Tricks like that didn't work on her.

"Hey! I'm not done with you yet! I need statements for my report!"

"Well, you're going to have to head to the station empty-handed there, sweet-spark..."

The stranger winked at the Canipid mech. A cheeky grin formed. There was a sudden increase in light – bright turquoise light. Then, before she could think to issue an exclamation for them to stop whatever he was doing:

VOIP!

The Chaser stood gawking at the spot the three mechs had been standing not even a nano-klick ago. She heard an animal's howl come from behind her. Looking up, she saw them atop one of the low towers that made up part of the Altihexian Academy. The mysterious stranger waved at her, then offered a teasing salute of all things to finish off the playful taunt.

"Catch ya later, toots!" he shouted genially.

With another flash of bright turquoise the three mechs disappeared altogether.

"Wha-Y-GET BACK HERE!"

The Chaser, Chicane of Iacon, growled and transformed in a flurry and gunned her accelerator to its limit. They thought they could get away that easy, did they? Oh, no. Not on her chronometer. Vandalism was a misdemeanor according to the law – but it was a crime all the same. And she rather fancied she recognized that biker mech...something her chief had mentioned? Hopefully she could ask when she dragged him and his associates in.


Author's Note: Hehehe. There'll be other, short chapters like this in the near future.

*Note for Random Person:

1.) It takes a bit of thought to come up with these titles, believe me. And of course you'd be unfamiliar with the language because it doesn't even exist in real life it's my take on Cybertronian language. I try and keep each city's dialect different from each other, and I try to keep Predacon language as different from city language as I can, going by the idea their voice boxes are vastly different.

2.) A'almvi is the old Cybertronian title "Agent of Amalgamous." Literally translated it means "Changer follower" or "Shifter follower." A'almvi is plural, A'almvus is singular. :) A'almvus is pronounced "Ay-alm-vos" and A'almvi is pronounced "Ay-alm-vee."

2.5.) I sometimes intentionally leave Cybertronian words untranslated so as to give more flavor and an alien feel to the story. :) I do that in Tcsovan as well. It's mostly in First Star you'll see me translating the alien dialect.