I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

Well hey howdy hey, boys and girls! I'm back with the next instalment of my Flash Bang series! However, a departure from the norm, this one isn't about Flash Bang! Well, not for the most part at least ;D Anyway, I'm sorry for the long gap between this and Fractures - I had been planning to start posting sooner, but then I was like "hey, didn't I finish Fragments last Valentine's Day? Why yes, yes I did! Let's start the new one on Valentine's Day this year as a sort of anniversary!"

So, now you know the story, let's begin with Remnants - the tale behind Mercury and Gearshift :)


Remnants

Chapter One: Club Venus

It was a usual evening. Mercury was running from one side of the club to the other, tray in one servo, spray bottle of cleaning fluid in the other. Her support servos were aching and she was irritated at the rather tightly packed crowd of patrons making it impossible to move from table to table in order to clean them for the next over energised group of customers.

It was Amateur Singer hour, something unique to the club that Mercury enjoyed, not to see bots making a fool of themselves, but to see what up-and-coming talent might be on the horizon. If there was one thing she liked, it was being in the know. A femme was onstage at that moment. She was bright pink with optics shielded by a visor, and her voice was astounding! Mercury couldn't quite remember the femme's name. It was Luna, or something similar.

Mercury skirted the outer edge of the club, avoiding flailing limbs and over energised mechs as they moved to the sound of the song in the closest thing resembling rhythm that they could manage. Mercury ducked and weaved between the inebriated bar patrons until she reached the neon-lit bar, behind which stood a tall navy blue mech who had an oddly stoic disposition for someone who worked in a club. He held a cloth in one servo, which he was using to clean an empty Energon cube whilst he waited for the intoxicated rabble before him to move along so he could serve the next customer. Mercury went behind the bar and set down her tray.

"That's it for me," she huffed. "Anything need doing before I head home?" Before the bartender could reply, the stage manager came bursting out of the door to the back of the club.

"Bless my spark, Mercury! You're still here!" she gasped, charging over to the waitress. "One of my femmes hasn't shown up for the big dance tonight! Could you step in for her?"

"Me?" Mercury asked, astonished. "But I don't dance!"

"True, but you can easily download it from one of the others," the stage manager replied, waving it off. "The performance may not be as genuine as the others' will be, but it ought to do."

Mercury looked at the other femme for a moment, uncertainty on her faceplate, but the stage manager's warm yet pleading smile won her over.

"Fine," she said finally. "But don't expect it to become a regular thing. I don't want to be a dancer."

"I know, sweetie," the stage manager replied. "Managerial duties are your thing."

"They will be," Mercury corrected, pointedly.

It had been decided long ago that Mercury had natural talent at handling just about anything, whether it be people or things or entire businesses. For a whole orbital cycle, Mercury had run the club essentially alone, with only the steadfast assistance of the bartender to help her. It had been a rough orbital cycle, but it had been worth it for the respect she earned from her co-workers. Not to mention the credits. Lots and lots of credits. Not that she was greedy.

Mercury followed the stage manager through to the backstage rooms where all the dancers were readying themselves with easily attachable decorations on their armour. Metal feathers, fine ribbon-like chains, strings of glittering lights and other such things hung from their chassis in pretty displays of elegance. The stage manager quickly set to adorning these items onto Mercury's purple and silver armour, waving over another dancer to have them link up and share the routine. Before it had really struck her that she was about to go on stage, Mercury was ready to go.

"Oh, doesn't she look darling?" one dancer cooed as if to a sparkling. Mercury shifted uncomfortably on the spot, gently tugging the decorations to see if they'd come off easily. Her servos were slapped into behaving quite quickly, however.

"They're easy enough to remove, Mercury," the stage manager said. "But don't touch them until your dance is done!"

Mercury was shoved out onto the stage with the other femmes. The curtain was still down, giving her a few more seconds of obscurity. She tried to gather her nerve. She had nothing to worry about, really, the dance was saved into her memory and she had only to follow it. She looked at the other dancers. They looked bored, if anything. She tapped her digits against her things, prompting one of the other dancers to throw her a smile and say, "Don't worry about a thing, you'll be fine."

Mercury did not feel fine.

All too soon, the curtains opened, and before she could think, her support servos were moving to the beat.

Left, right, twirl, leap, bend, stretch, jump, spin.

It came surprisingly naturally to Mercury, although she could feel the falseness to her movements. She felt as if she were forcing this, making it happen against its will. But at the same time, it felt exhilarating! Every twirl, every leap sent a little rush through her that almost made her shiver with joy each time. She loosened up, enjoyed it, became happier with the flow and beat and ignored the fact that she shouldn't have been there, on that glittering stage in front of hordes of mechs and femmes too over energised to truly enjoy what they were honoured to see. It almost felt cruel when the music stopped and the dance came to an end. She wanted so badly to continue!

A loud, drunken round of applause erupted from before her. The other femmes bowed, so did Mercury. The other femmes waved to the crowd in thanks, so did Mercury. The other femmes blew kisses to the lone mechs watching them, so did Mercury. She felt as if she had always been a part of this. The other dancers flashed her grins whenever they caught her optic, and she grinned back. Everyone seemed pleased by her performance, most of all the stage manager.

"Oh, spark, you lifesaver, Mercury!" she cried, hugging Mercury around the shoulders. "I cannot express how happy I am to have you working here! You never cease to amaze me!"

Mercury's faceplate heated up in embarrassment. "You're too kind. Really, I mean that literally. I did nothing special."

"Mercury, you danced wonderfully for somebot with no prior performing experience!" the stage manager insisted. "I've organised an extra payment of credits for you as thanks. And don't tell me you don't want them, you're having them whether you like it or not!"

Mercury was at a loss of what to say, so she just relaxed her entire chassis and bowed her cranial unit slightly. "Thank you, Sol. I won't forget this."

"Neither will I," Sol replied with a wink. "Go home now, Mercury. You need some rest after this hectic night."

Mercury did go home, but she didn't rest. Not right away, at least. Instead, she powered up her music player and danced until the early hours of the morning.


"And stay out!" the bouncer yelled as he threw Gearshift out of the back door to The Circle. Gearshift's armour screeched loudly as he slid across the ground, but without a hint of pain he stood up and brushed himself off, ignoring the large patch of scraped-off paint on his chest.

"Didn't want to work as some stupid cleaner anyway," he shot back at the bouncer, but he'd already gone back inside. He turned around to head out of the back alley and back to the main road, but his path was blocked by a familiar figure.

"Get out of my way, Lockdown," Gearshift hissed. Lockdown didn't move.

"Ya get what ya deserve, ya know," the other mech said. "Ya shouldn'ta been stealin' their oil if ya actually wanted ter keep yer job."

"Oh, come on, have you seen their prices?" Gearshift protested. "Even with the staff discount, I couldn't afford it!"

"So why not just go someplace else fer yer regular inebriatin'?" Lockdown asked, pointedly. "Ya know, someplace cheap?"

Gearshift waved him off, uninterested in having an argument after losing his only job, as "demeaning" as he thought it was. "I don't much care. Are the guys going out tonight?"

"Maybe," Lockdown replied. "Can't imagine ya got the credits ter pay fer any drinks, though."

Gearshift smirked. "I may have a little more stashed away than you think, Lockdown."

Lockdown rolled his optics. "Ever'one is off ter that Club Venus, in the downtown, ya know? The one with the real pretty dancers?"

"Club Venus?" Gearshift repeated. "Kind of gives out the wrong impression, wouldn't you say?"

"It ain't a femmes' club, Gearshift," Lockdown replied, tersely. He began walking down the alley, "Ya comin' or not?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," Gearshift replied, chasing after him.

Gearshift may have worked as a cleaner in The Circle, but that had never sated his appetite for Iacon's impressive range of bars, clubs, venues and the like. Every night, he'd go somewhere with his friends, get over energised and then come up with a terrible excuse for being late to work the next solar cycle. His superiors had been sick of him, and by the time they'd discovered his string of oil thefts, they'd already had enough of him. The termination of his job had been certain.

Lockdown slung an arm over his friend's green shoulders. "It'll be fun, Gearshift. Maybe ya'll get a dancer to give ya a kiss ter cheer ya up?"

"I doubt they're all loose hussy bots," Gearshift replied. "But maybe I'll get lucky..."

A small group of bots was stood waiting at the end of the alley, talking amongst themselves loudly. They waved to the approaching pair, shouting Gearshift's name loudly in a chant.

Gearshift got his aft kicked out,

Of The Circle where it's all about,

Now he's left without his job,

Off to a party with this noisy mob!

Gearshift rolled his optics. His friends had an odd synchronised ability with performance. All they needed was a ringmaster and they'd be a hit! There were four of them, three mechs and a femme, and none of them had a particularly favourable reputation. They were more Lockdown's friends than Gearshift's, and Lockdown had once admitted to only spending time with them because one of them, Wildrider, was his cousin, but Gearshift enjoyed their company well enough when in the mood for them.

"Ter Club Venus, then?" Lockdown called out, raising an arm in celebration. "Shift here needs cheerin' up!"

The four jogged over to where Gearshift stood, surrounding him and raising him above their cranial units. "ONWARDS!" they cheered together, carrying the bewildered green mech down the road. Lockdown, grinning with mirth, followed them closely.

Club Venus had a vivid neon sign above the doorway that showed a femme dancing with a mech underneath where the club's name was written in equally vivid neon. Lockdown jogged to the front of the crowd, holding the door open for the four rowdy bots and their emerald captive. A pair of burly bouncers stood at the inner door, looks of distaste on their faceplates.

"Put him down, mechs," one said. Gearshift was dropped with a thud, but one of the bots broke rank and stormed up to the bouncer, raising a digit threateningly.

"Who you calling a mech?" she screeched. "Do you need your optics fixing? I happen to know a good doctor..."

"Drag Strip, back off," one of the others said. Drag Strip turned to face him.

"Same goes for you, Wilderider," she hissed. But the big mech waved her off.

"So, we goin' in or what?" Lockdown huffed. The bouncers gave them a final once over before opening the doors for them.

"The slightest bit of trouble and you're all out," one of them said, glaring at Lockdown as he led the way in. Lockdown just smirked, rudely.

Inside Club Venus it was a low light, loud music affair, with a stage currently hidden by curtains. A space was reserved between the many tables for dancing, with a huge disco ball hanging above it that reflected specks of light in all different colours around the space. Gearshift wolf whistled at the sight.

"And yet it's The Circle that's the top club in Iacon..." he murmured.

"Ah, come on, Shift, The Circle has everything on this place," another of the gang retorted. Gearshift was clearly unimpressed by the other mech's statement, which was only picked up on by Lockdown.

"Leave it, Breakdown," he spat. "How 'bout I punch yer faceplate fer every time ya mention that place?"

"I'd have to say that what luck I had had finally run out," Breakdown replied quietly, backing away slightly. As he did so, he walked into a table which went crashing to the floor. He, too, ended up sprawled out on top of it. The others fell about laughing. Well, apart from the last of the group – Dead End. He never laughed.

A pair of waitress appeared behind them and started cleaning up the mess, helping Breakdown to his support servos and assuring him that no damage had been done. Breakdown smiled awkwardly at them as they cleaned up, half trying to brush it off, half trying to score a femme. They finished their work and moved along without a second glance at him.

"Fail," Wildrider quipped with a smirk. Breakdown huffed and folded his arms.

There was a pause in the music and the curtains around the stage were drawn to an immense round of applause. A band of nine dancers were stood on stage, each one either pink or pearlescent silver-white in armour colour. Gearshift's optics fell on one of the white femmes, a dainty little thing witch, on closer inspection, had the faintest of pink patches down her waist and the insides of her upper arms and thighs. She was in the direct centre of the stage, a red bleed highlighting her pink accents. She was very, very attractive to the ragtag mechs Gearshift was surrounded by.

"She's a pretty little thing, ain't she?" Lockdown murmured quietly to Gearshift, nudging him in the side. Gearshift wasn't about to disagree, particularly when the femme literally kicked off the dance by kicking her leg into the air as the music began, taking the momentum gained into a three-sixty spin. The other dancers leapt away from her, spiralling in sequence with flawless movements. The lead dancer remained in the centre, moving her body in time with the music. As the dance went on, the circle she was stood in rose higher than the rest of the stage, bringing focus to her. The spotlights moved to her, lighting up her shimmering armour and creating a disco ball effect that rivalled that of the actual disco ball over the dance floor. It was almost unfair when the music ended and she stopped dancing.

"Got to have a bit of that," Gearshift whispered. Lockdown sighed mockingly and rolled his optics.

"Yer gonna go after her?" Lockdown smirked. "Shift, she's way outta yer league!"

"As if," Gearshift chuckled. "I can have whoever I want."

"Yeah, we'll see abou' that," Lockdown replied.

The dancers bowed and waved to the audience, at which point Gearshift began to pick his way through the crowd to get right up to the stage. He caught the optic of the lead dancer, giving her the most charming smile he could muster. She smiled back with a smile that she had clearly practiced time and time again, the sort of grin a performer gives an audience, one that doesn't really mean anything. Gearshift waved her over, but she put a servo up in polite refusal. But Gearshift was persistent. Before Lockdown could move to stop him, or encourage him, he walked to the far side of the stage, where the dancers were disappearing into the backstage rooms.

"Hey," he called to her. "Great show! How long have you been dancing?"

"Long enough," she called back, trying to get away.

"Now what do you mean by that?" Gearshift replied, trying to catch her out. "Long enough to get any mech you want?"

She put a servo on her hip. "No, long enough to learn to stay away from the likes of you."

That caught Gearshift off guard. Without realising he was really doing it, he vaulted onto the stage and caught the femme between himself and the wall closest to her. His servos were on either side of her cranial unit and his all too gentle grin was far too close to her faceplate.

"What the Pit are you doing?" she demanded. Never had such a boisterous bot done this to her, or to any other femme at Club Venus. She was utterly taken aback and with no idea of what to do.

"Gearshift," Lockdown called out, his tone warning.

"So how about it, femme? You, me, a little privacy. Could be on Pit of a show..." Gearshift began to lean into her faceplate, but was stopped by burgundy servos pulling him away.

"Gearshift, tha's enough!" Lockdown yelled. Gearshift just pushed him back, only to be punched square in the faceplate. Gearshift took the blow and hit back with twice the force, sending Lockdown back a few steps. But he charged at Gearshift once again, knocking him sprawling on the stage floor. The dancers began to scream in panic, running for cover in the backstage rooms. Gearshift got back to his feet and tackled Lockdown, but the bigger mech just kicked him back off. Before he could make another move, the bouncers were there, holding Gearshift back. Another mech, the bartender, hoisted Lockdown to his support servos, keeping a tight grip on his arm.

"Thanks for trying to help, kid," he said. "But it looks like your friend is a little too good at this for you to handle."

The stage manager appeared, demanding to know what was going on. The bartender filled her in, after which she narrowed her optics at the two bots presented to her.

"Keep a hold of the green one, I want to see that he apologises to Twirl," the yellow femme demanded. "As for Spiky over there, thank you for defending my dancer, but you did start the fight."

"Say n'more, ma'am," Lockdown replied. "I wasn't planning on staying long, anyways."

Lockdown was escorted out of the club, followed closely by Wildrider (who had misunderstood the situation and tried to defend his cousin as he was led to the door), Drag Strip (who was itching for a fight), and Breakdown (who was unlucky enough to be holding an Energon cube in just the right place to throw it over one of the bouncers as they pushed him out the way). Dead End followed out behind them silently. He didn't want to stay in the club, with or without his companions. Gearshift was pushed into a seat by the bar where the bartender could watch him. One of the waitresses found a cloth to clean the tiny amount of mech fluid dripping down his chin.

"Not seen a bot so stupid," another waitress said as she deposited her tray behind the bar. "What did you think you were doing?" She was purple and silver and possessed an aura of "don't mess with me" that caught Gearshift's attention before he even laid optic on her. She was good-looking, too. Not the sort of good-looking that the dancers were, but the sort of good-looking that you really could... respect. Gearshift found he couldn't take his optics off her. She caught his gaze after a moment. "Looks like his friend hit him a little too hard." She waved a servo in front of his optics. "Anybot home?"

Gearshift shook away his stare. "Uh, sorry," he said quickly. "I think he knocked something loose."

"Looks that way," she replied, lightly backhanding the bartender on the arm when he barked a short laugh out. "How do you feel?"

"A little dizzy, I'll admit," Gearshift answered. Putting a suave expression on, he asked, "What's a pretty femme like you doing behind the bar?"

She rolled her optics. "Seriously?" Gearshift's optics widened as he realised she was insulted.

"Uh, no! I didn't mean it like that!" he insisted, trying to cover for himself. Everything the femme did brimmed with tenacity, something he'd never really seen in a femme in a bar before. She smirked at him and turned to get some drinks prepared.

"So, uh, what's your name?" he asked her, trying to regain his composure.

She didn't answer him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, anyway, No Name," Gearshift replied. "My name's Gearshift." He paused a moment. "So, how about a drink?"

She turned, holding a cube of Energon. Without a word she placed it in front of him, so firmly that Gearshift thought the cube would shatter in her servo. It didn't.

"That'll be eight credits," she said, an edge in her voice.

"I meant-" Gearshift began, but she walked away before he could finish. She knew what he'd meant anyway, and wasn't interested. Gearshift just slumped over the bar, the stern optics of the bartender leaving him for only the most necessary reasons, which were few and far between. He could make most drinks without looking.

A megacycle or so later, the brilliant yellow stage manager came over to the bar, the offended dancer cowering behind her. No Name had returned to the bar, cleaning glasses and wiping down the polished surface. It was getting quiet now, with the only remaining patrons being in a drunken recharge on their tables with half-empty drinks in their servos. The stage manager was leading the dancer by the servo to the bar. No Name noticed them before Gearshift did.

"Sol isn't a pushover, you know," she murmured to Gearshift. "You're in deep slag here. You were horrible to Twirl and she's unspeakably precious to Sol."

"Great," Gearshift grumbled. "Any tips?"

"Don't try to please her by being suave," she replied. "Be a gentlemech and make a point of how sorry you "truly" are."

Sol approached the bar, her optics fiery and her movements hostile. Never had Gearshift found himself cowering from a femme before. The dancer, Twirl, on the other servo, was staring intently at the floor, her optics never straying from the neon lit metal below her support servos as she was towed along. She cast a nervous glance at Gearshift, looking back down as soon as her optics came to his pale green faceplate. Sol pulled her Twirl to stand by her side.

"How dare you," Sol hissed at Gearshift.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," Gearshift said, forcing his voice to sound earnest. "I really don't know what came over me."

Twirl looked at him, her faceplate still angled downwards. Sol's faceplate didn't change.

"I don't care what you claim," Sol spat.

"Look, um, Twirl, is it? I really am sorry," Gearshift pleaded, turning to the pink and white femme. "Honestly, I've had a bad solar cycle. I don't want to make it bad for someone else, too. Forgive and forget? I'll do whatever I can to make up for my stupidity."

Twirl seemed convinced, a small smile appearing on her face, but Sol clearly wasn't impressed by Gearshift's little speech.

"I don't want to see your faceplate in here ever again, understand?" Sol spat. No Name put an empty cube down just loudly enough to get the attention of all involved.

"If I may," she began. "Sol, he really does seem sorry, and Twirl looks to agree." Twirl nodded, a tiny smile on her faceplate. "So why not let him make up for his mistake, rather than just kick him out? Who knows, maybe we'll actually be able to teach him a thing or two."

Sol didn't seem interested in taking up No Name's idea to begin with, but after a moment her harsh scowl softened into a thoughtful frown.

"Fine, I'll give you a chance," she said coldly. "Once a decacyle, I want you in here. Any good at cleaning? You're going to do a lot of it."

"I'm going to be a cleaner? Are you serious?" But a quick glare from No Name told him to shut up before he got in any more trouble.


Long chapter is looooooooong .

I hope you all enjoyed :) I've been looking forward to this one.

Updates will be regular on Mondays as usual, and hopefully I'll be able to stick to that - I have a job which takes up a LOT of my time nowadays.

Also! For those of you who like video games and LOLing at people who fail at video games, I've started to do "Let's Play" videos on YouTube. Type "LozMidgley" into the YouTube search and you should find me :) My vids all start with "A Girl Plays" so be on the look out for that :)

Lastly, please review!

:D