"I can't believe you parked next to a drug drop off, Perceptor," Moonracer said, toweling her hair dry. It was back to its usual lovely minty highlights, instead of the jaundiced shade it had been. "I can't believe we had to sit in the police station for five hours. I can't believe they made us do drug testing."
"I can't believe I didn't get a false positive." Blurr said, throwing himself over the back of the couch.
"I can't believe they took our tiny soaps. What'll Blurr's mom say?"
"Well," Perceptor looked up from his Excel document, "she'll probably want to know why we went to the police station, and knowing your mother, Blurr, she won't be satisfied by anything less than first degree murder."
"She is dramatic," Blurr agreed, nodding, "When I told her I was moving in with Moonracer, Mom was convinced I got her pregnant."
"Pft. Oh, speaking of, you need me to be your beard for the evening?"
"Nah," Blurr have her a thumbs up, "I'm good."
"Awesome. Oh, speaking of again, I can't believe Arcee wasn't at the station when we came in. It was the perfect opportunity to garner a little wibbly sympathy."
"Or get her pissed and sad at you because she thinks you were doing drugs and she hates that, did you know she came by the drag strip and gave us a DARE presentation?"
Moonracer smiled to herself. That was one of the reasons she really did like Arcee: her unwavering sense of duty. She knew what was right, and she wouldn't stop until she had achieved that. A good sense of humor and a pretty face came and went, but moral strength like that didn't waver.
"That's so cute." She said instead. She trusted Blurr and Perceptor with her life, but getting sentimental on them while sober was a bit too personal. "Okay, enough gossip and complaining. I have work in like an hour."
"Why do you even bother working, Moonracer? Your parents paid for private schooling." Perceptor scowled at his computer and deleted the last line of text he was working on.
"Haha, funny wit from Mr. Scholarship. It keeps me busy."
"Most people have hobbies."
"What can I say," Moonracer pressed a hand to her chest before ducking back into the bathroom, "I like to lower myself among the hoi polloi."
She switched on the hair dryer so she didn't have to hear whatever Perceptor (and Blurr) had to say next. Avoidance 101. It was how she got through high school. She flicked off the hair dryer before her hair developed the textural qualities of straw and pulled on her work clothes—a simple mint blouse with a grey knitted cardigan and a pair of straight leg black trousers. In her opinion, she looked boring, but her boss made it clear that it was either the exciting fashion or the exciting hair that went, and she wasn't about to shave her head. She could have just quit, yeah, but where was the spite in that.
"Okay, sorry, what?" She stepped out of the bathroom, "I wasn't paying attention to you."
Perceptor rolled his eyes. "Have fun making coffee."
"Hey, that's not all I do," Moonracer pouted. " I make copies."
"You could make copies of coffee and solve both problems at once." Blurr offered.
"Yes." Moonracer pointed at him, grabbed her purse, and locked the door behind her. She clicked open the garage and unlocked her car.
Really, if there was ever a contrived situation where she had to choose between saving her hypothetical child and saving her car, she'd pick her car without even having to debate it.
It was beautiful, and very, very expensive.
She unlocked the door and sat inside, tossing her purse into the passenger's seat. She pressed down on the clutch and the brake and cranked up the car, then shifted into first. Moonracer had a running competition with Blurr as to who could get to the highest gear before they left the driveway. So far, he was winning, but that was because he didn't love his car enough. Moonracer cringed at the thought of how bad his clutch must have looked.
It was a beautiful day, really. The sun was shimmering behind a wispy layer of cotton ball clouds, but the sky was otherwise clear and blue. You could see for miles on a day like this—nothing but rock and scrub trees as far as the eye could see, until you hit the mesas.
Moonracer rolled her windows down. It was times like this that she regretted not choosing a convertible, but she knew herself well enough to know that she'd forget and leave it open during a rainstorm or something equally foolish.
Work was an business building nearish Vegas. If she was pressed, Moonracer would have to confess that she didn't exactly know what business they did, only that it might have had something to do with the stock market. Maybe. But, they had a parking garage, which was easily ninety percent of the reason she worked there. The other ten percent was the lax hair policy. She swiped her badge at the gate and pulled in. Her favorite spot was on the third floor, so she drove up two levels and shut off her engine. Then she stared at herself for a few seconds in the rearview mirror.
"This is my hobby and I do it for fun," she repeated, rolled her eyes, and got out of her car.
Moonracer did her best to creep past the secretary's desk on the first floor.
"Moonracer!"
Damnit.
"Hey, Astoria!" Moonracer waved back, a patently false grin plastered over her face. Astoria was… sweet, Primus bless her heart, but she was also a ditz and a notorious gossip. Moonracer loved gossip as much as the next person, but Astoria tested even her patience.
"Primus above, Moonracer," Astoria popped her gum, "did you see those creepy guys Shockwave dragged in? I mean, Starscream is bad enough, but now he's got that weird mute guy." Astoria bulged her eyes. "Real weird. He never blinks."
Okay, maybe Moonracer didn't hate gossip that much.
"Really? Starscream is back? I thought they had a fight?" Or, at the very least, Moonracer went from getting two coffees on the daily to getting one, without much ceremony.
"I dunno, but he came in for a visitor badge. He brought some really handsome guy, too. Lucky you," Astoria winked, "you get to go up and talk to him. Gawd, it's like he stepped of a magazine or somethin'."
"Ah-ha."
"Oh, wait," Astoria pursed her lips, "you don't like guys. Well, can you get his number for me?"
"I'll ask." Said Moonracer, who had no plans of doing that.
"Aw, you're a doll! I'll buzz you in?" Astoria hit the button, and Moonracer stepped through the metal detector. She handed her purse off to Astoria, who tossed it to the snoring Astrotrain. Astrotrain's snoring skipped slightly, but he didn't move beyond that.
Astoria gave her back her purse and waved cheerily. Moonracer smiled back, then slammed the button for the elevator and dashed onto it when the doors opened. Talking to Astoria was exhausting, and Moonracer lived with Blurr.
The technical name for her job was probably executive floor secretary, but the woman who already worked there was tightly possessive over her domain and didn't want Moonracer touching anything. Hence the coffee. To be quite honest, Moonracer couldn't care less. She got to sit in a nice air conditioned seat all day and then she got to play around with the Keurig.
"Moonracer," Nancy waved her over. "They're up in a meeting right now, but Starscream called down for a cuppa. The best part of waking up and all."
"Gotcha. Anyone else in the meeting?"
"Oh, that quiet fellow with the staring problem and some flashy young doctor."
"I'll grab something for them, too."
Moonracer ambled down to the break room and set about to making coffee. Shockwave was easy—coffee, black, and he didn't notice when she used the really cheap stuff. Starscream was a bit more finicky with his tastes, but Moonracer had found a little capsule brand that he liked. He had a sweet tooth, too. Five sugars was enough to make her downright sick, but Starscream drank it like he enjoyed it. The other two were mysteries, but Starscream's brand would probably work for them. Best to give a good first impression and all.
She balanced the coffees in her hands and knocked on Shockwave's conference room.
Starscream opened the door.
"What?" He spat, his nasal voice going shrill. Ah. Moonracer had not missed this.
"Coffee." Moonracer grinned and held up the cups.
Starscream rolled his eyes and stepped back to allow her in. Shockwave was fiddling with his projection system in the corner. It looked like Starscream had made himself at home as well. Scraps of paper—bills, maybe?—littered his end of the table. The quiet man (and wow did he have a staring problem) was focussed on his phone, his creepy, spindly fingers typing faster than Moonracer could track. Astoria's new crush was longing back in his chair, drumming his fingers in the table. He looked at Starscream's back and rolled his eyes. Moonracer would have sworn she recognized him, but just couldn't place his face.
"Thank you, Moonracer," Shockwave said in his deep, unsettling voice.
Moonracer set the cups down on the table. The doctor leaned forward in his chair and snagged a cup for himself, then grimaced.
"Ah, could you make mine not disgusting, please and thank you." His voice was jovial and lilting, and Moonracer instantly disliked him.
"Knock Out, behave." Shockwave said, without looking up.
"Pft."
"I get you something different." Moonracer took the cup back and faked a smile. Knock Out gave an even faker one in return. Oh, this was a good one.
"Why, thank you."
She slipped out of the room and flipped him off as soon as the door closed behind her. Then she dumped the coffee in the trash and whipped out her phone.
'Super asshole alert.' she texted.
'How bad?'
'Doesnt like my coffee :('
Blurr didn't respond for a moment, then: 'i don't like your coffee either'
':p'
Moonracer smiled to herself and went back to the break room. She cracked open her personal stash—the really good stuff, fair trade and all, and set a pot brewing on the actual coffee maker. She preemptively dumped a packet of salt in the coffee, to adsorb the bitterness. Then she waited.
The machine beeped shrilly, startling Moonracer out of the semi nap she had slipped into. She poured Knock Out a cup, spat into it, then snapped the lid on. Never let it be said that she wasn't petty. She walked back down the hall.
"What do you mean it isn't enough!" Starscream's enraged screech was ear splitting. Moonracer frowned. Maybe she'd wait a bit with the coffee.
"I mean," Knock Out drawled, "long term care won't cure Megatron. He is, essentially, a flesh shell, which is being kept alive with state of the art chest compressions."
"Elaborate." Came Shockwave's low voice.
Knock Out sighed. "Whatever it was you did to Megatron, Starscream—"
"I did nothing!"
"Fine. Whatever happened to Megatron has closed off his brain. Oh, he's there, but he won't be waking up anytime soon, and when he does wake up, he won't be the same Megatron for a while. He might never be the same."
"Your recommendation, doctor?"
"Were this any other patient? Euthanasia. Four years of coma is already a death sentence. But, seeing as this is Megatron…"
A mumble. Moonracer leaned closer.
"Soundwave," Starscream said, "when are you going to accept that our… glorious leader is all but dead. You heard the doctor."
Another mumble. This Soundwave guy really needed to speak up.
Knock Out made an affronted noise. "You make it sound like I want to work for you. Even if Starscream did hire," his tone made it very clear there was no exchange of money. Threats, maybe, but not cash, "me, why would it be in my interest to pit the rest of you against me?"
"Well, doctor," Starscream oozed, "you haven't exactly been a font of sound decisions in the past."
"My," Knock Out said, acid in his voice, "I suppose I could say the exact same thing to you. Funny, isn't—"
There was a clatter as someone, presumably Starscream, pushed his chair over, then the stomping of feet, and then the sharp, sickly smack of flesh hitting flesh. Moonracer covered her mouth.
"Oh fuck fuck." She muttered to herself, pacing in a circle. What was she supposed to do? Was this normal? Stock execs didn't slap each other around, did they?
She knocked on the door. The room went quiet.
Starscream opened the door. His left hand was very carefully tucked behind his back.
"What?"
"Uh, coffee, again." Moonracer bared her teeth in an expression that was technically a smile. Shockwave and Soundwave were blatantly not looking at Knock Out, who was staring sharply and determinedly out the window. Moonracer could only see half of his face. His mouth was twisted down in a sharp frown, and his single visible eye was a little watery.
"Ah, I'll just put this here." Moonracer deposited the coffee in the table and all but sprinted out, pulling the door shut behind her.
Crazy!
She went back to the secretary's desk and sat down.
"Hey, Nancy."
"Yes?" Nancy looked up from her old TV reruns. "What's up?"
That was a good question. Moonracer didn't rightly know.
"Uhh, nevermind."
Moonracer had never been gladder to go home. She let loose on the interested, bumping up to fifth gear as quickly as she could, both windows rolled down.
She wasn't going to tell Blurr or Perceptor about Shockwave's meeting, not when she wasn't actually sure what had happened. Yes, she'd heard some suspect noises, but throwing around blame without knowing exactly what happened was a direct path to getting fired. And then what would she do with her time?
Megatron, though. She knew that name, and not just because Starscream had mentioned him before.
Moonracer frowned. She wasn't stupid enough to look at her phone while driving, so she pulled over and type 'Megatron' into the search engine.
"Coma. Hmm."
According to Google, Megatron was some up and coming politician friend of the mayor who had tragically slipped into a coma around four years ago due to unknown causes. That didn't exactly mesh with what she had overheard from Starscream.
'Whatever it was you did to Megatron…'
She looked up Knock Out. He was a doctor—an ER surgeon at Velocity Memorial, according to their website. Which was… weird. Trauma surgeons didn't do comas, right? A coma was an ICU thing, at least according to Moonracer's fuzzy memories of her granddad after he had his heart attack. It might've made sense if Knock Out was the doctor who initially operated on him, but it had been four years. His case should have been switched to a long term care person by now.
The question remained. What had Starscream done to Megatron?
Actually, back up. Why was Shockwave associating with these people? Was TV right and all corporate bigwigs were evil?
Moonracer closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.
"I'm being stupid."
She started her car. Home was still a few miles away and she was tired. It was dark out, which was Moonracer's favorite time to drive. It was just her, her car, and the road. The roads were empty on this half of the country.
Moonracer pursed her lips. Well, if no one was on the road…
She pulled off the road onto the dirt, then got out of her car. She stripped off her cardigan and dropped it about fifty feet in front of her car, then got back inside.
"Okay. Deep breath." Moonracer muttered, then accelerated. She shifted into second gear as soon as she could. Ten feet from her cardigan. She pushed down the clutch, then twisted the wheel sharply left. With her other hand, she yanked up the handbrake.
"Yes!"
Dust kicked up behind her as her wheels lost traction and slid into a drift. She slammed on the gas and let the clutch go. The gears in the engine caught and grinded, and the entire car shuddered beneath her. The engine choked and sputtered, dying under her. The car coasted to a halt.
"Aw, dammit," Moonracer slapped the wheel, then patted it. "Sorry."
Maybe it was a bit hypocritical to chide Blurr for drag racing when she did this.
Moonracer stepped out of her car and picked up her cardigan, then tossed it in a plastic bag before throwing it on top of her purse. No way was she getting dusty dirt all inside her nice, clean car. Then she popped the hood and frowned at the engine.
"Sorry baby." Moonracer kissed her fingers and pressed them to the heated engine block. She slid back into her car and started the engine, pulling back onto the highway.
She clicked open the garage and drove in, then shut off her car.
"Honey, I'm home!" She called out, unlocking the garage door.
"My lady love," Blurr replied hurtling over the kitchen counter. He leapt into Moonracer's arms, which would have been an amazing show of strength on her part if she were tall enough to get Blurr off the ground.
"Oof! Heya Blurr. How was your mom?"
Blurr extracted himself from the tangle of their arms. "She saw Perceptor's stuff on the couch and thinks we're having a lover's spat. You've kicked me out onto the couch because I haven't agreed to have a June wedding."
"Ugh. June? Does your mother know me at all?" Moonracer hung up her purse and tossed her cardigan at the washing machine. "I obviously want an August wedding. I've been planning a beach wedding for ages and I want the water warm enough to swim in."
"Well, if you wanna call mom and tell her we're getting married on a beach in August you be my guest but let me tell you it won't end up pretty!"
"Honestly, what is she going to do when you find some guy with a car nice enough to take home?" Moonracer unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and sprawled on the couch. She toed one of Perceptor's sweaters to the carpet and propped her feet up.
"Ah, well."
"What's this?" Moonracer sat up. "Blurr, shocked to silence?" She squinted at him. "Ahhh, you sly dog! You got me all distracted with Perceptor and Arcee and I didn't even notice! What's his name? What kind of car does he have?"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Blurr wagged his finger. "If you think I'm going to make it easy for you, you've got another thing coming. And by another thing I mean I'm going to make you guess and then probably tell you because we tell each other everything honestly."
"Okay, okay," Moonracer sat up. "What's my clue?"
"Hmm. You've met him before, at a race—the car show off I-85," he clarified.
"Okay, ah, let's see." She thought back, and her face contorted with dread. "Oh, gosh, it wasn't that skinhead guy, was it?"
"Moonracer, look at me," Blurr gestured to himself, "there are like three requirements to being a skinhead and one of them is being racist, and I think that sort of precludes those kinds of people from dating me. Also, really?"
"What're the other two?"
"Skin and a head, clearly."
"Okay, okay. I just wanted to get the worst case scenario out of the way first. Umm, who else. Oh, that muscle guy you challenged to a speed walking race? The one in yellow?"
"Nope!"
Moonracer bit her lip and tried to remember back to the car show. To be quite honest, she spent most of the night pestering Overdrive to teach her how to drift. If it wasn't the avant-garde (creepy man in a Jeep), or the modern (buff guy in an Urbana), then perhaps it was classic.
"The redhead in the Aston… Martin." Moonracer trailed off. That was where she recognized Knock Out from! The race! Okay, that solved one question and opened like five more. Why was a street racing surgeon on retainer with Shockwave?
"Nope again!" Blurr crowed victoriously. "He drove the leopard print RX7. I actually saw him at the animal shelter because I was thinking of getting a dog because I don't want a hobby like you but I get kinda lonely sometimes and my therapist says animal companionship can help with mental well-being, anyways I recognised him from the race and it turns out he works at the shelter and he has a bunch of cats, so we talked cars for a bit and it turns out he ran track too so I challenged him to a foot race; I won but he was really close to tying with me and I thought that was really impressive and then this short man came out and threw a sponge at him and told him to go work again so he asked for my number and I told him we should go running sometimes and we did and I think we're dating now on account of he asked me if he could kiss me and I said yes. So yes."
"Uh, yeah," Moonracer snapped herself out of her thoughts and took a moment to absorb Blurr's diatribe. "Oh my gosh, that's great! Blurr, I'm so happy for you!"
The front door cracked open.
"Hello, you two," Perceptor said, locking and deadbolting the door, "what have I missed?"
"We're getting married in August on the beach and Blurr got a dog."
"Well, send me an invitation and I'll see if I can get someone to cover classes for me."
"Oh, I dunno," Moonracer picked at her nails, "I think Blurr's new boyfriend might throw a wrench in our plans."
"Blurr, that's wonderful." Perceptor dumped his messenger bag on the table and slumped over onto the table.
"And he says nothing of my broken heart." Moonracer threw herself dramatically over Blurr's lap. "How cruel and callous!"
"I do my best. How was your date with Arcee?"
Moonracer sat up. "That's not 'til tomorrow. Right?" She scrambled at her phone calendar. "Yeah, not until tomorrow."
"Really?" Perceptor squinted at her, "What day is it?"
"Monday. I work Mondays and Tuesdays, and I've only worked one day this week."
"Hm. I think I forgot to collect homework for Beachcomber's class. Oh well, I'll get it tomorrow."
"He's still out? I thought they were suppose to be back by now." Blurr frowned. "He wasn't going that far, right?"
Perceptor nodded. "They were set to return yesterday, but Hound's keys fell into a ravine because he was distracted by some rare species of lizard. Beachcomber managed to hotwire his car."
"They should've brought you along," Blurr nudged Moonracer.
"Ahhh, let me leave my criminal past in peace."
"You know how to hotwire cars?" Perceptor raised an eyebrow.
"Er, technically, yeah. Remember when I took us out to catch that drive-in showing of Rocky Horror? My parents took my keys because I failed that one history report we had to do on inventions or whatever, so I hotwired it. Took me ages and I nearly electrocuted myself."
"Really? And to think I associated with you, you delinquent."
"Perceptor, you wore an eyepatch throughout tenth grade and told everyone to call you Magnificus. You also had that weird crush on that weeb kid."
"You mean the one who saved my life?" Perceptor snipped. "And it wasn't a crush."
"Perceptor," Moonracer said, "literally all he did was throw your epipen at you. You weren't even having anaphylaxis; you just stuck a pencil up your nose because Blurr and I dared you."
"Yeah, and then you followed him around for nearly a month trying to explain honor debts to him and you told him you were really impressed with his collection of mall katanas." Blurr added. "And even I knew that was a lie."
"I can't believe you two." Preceptor rubbed his forehead. "Such abuse I suffer from you."
"Yeah, okay Mr. Drama. How did your day go?"
"Hm, oh, it was fine. We managed to process those drugs we found. They're all the same batch of Dark Energon, but it's not the variety we usually find there. Ultra Magnus is concerned."
"What, like there's a new dealer?"
Perceptor shrugged. "Possibly, or some lab has come across money. The content of actual Dark Energon is higher than it usually is, which suggests that this is a higher quality. Either way, it doesn't bode well."
"Aw, that sucks," Moonracer sucked air through her teeth. "Why is such a drug problem here? We aren't even urban."
Blurr opened his mouth.
"Rhetorical, rhetorical!" Moonracer waved her hands. "You've told me before and it's super cool. I'm just lamenting."
"It wasn't that, although it probably has to do with the fact they were near Vegas, but I was going to say that Cheetor said his boss has a pity project and he hired this former gang type guy and he and that short man get into arguments all the time and Cheetor's overheard him calling him a Decepticon, which I've heard before on the news."
"Yeah," Moonracer snapped her fingers, "I remember them. They poof vanished like four years ago."
"Why do you know this?" Perceptor sat up and eyed the electric kettle. "We had a faculty meeting where they told us to be understanding if anyone came forwards now that the gang proper had dissolved."
"I used to listen to police radio." Moonracer flapped her hand, "anyways, you think they're back or something?"
Four years. Why was that important?
'Four years of coma…'
No, nope, no. Moonracer stopped her thoughts in their tracks. This was full on tinfoil hat thinking. But still… sometimes co-incidence was a plan in disguise, right?
Blurr and Perceptor finished whatever conversation they were carrying on.
"How was your day, Moonracer?" Perceptor finished making a cup of herbal tea (ew!) and looked back at her.
"Me? Ah, good, normal." I totally didn't come up with far reaching conspiracies in my head. "Nancy's on some TV binge, so she was distracted enough to let me use Shockwave's chop to okay some documents."
"How exciting." Perceptor arched an eyebrow.
"I live an exciting life," Moonracer spread her hands magnanimously. "Okay, who's turn is it for dinner?"
Neither of them responded.
"Okaayy. I'll order pizza."
Thank you for reading! Chapter title comes from Ellie Goulding's Only You.
For the curious, yes, Nancy is a canon character. She's one of the Junkions.
Other references to transformers' series include: Drift from IDW as 'that weeb kid with the swords' and Cheetor and the Maximals (plus Dinobot) as 'beleaguered animal shelter employees'.
A note: I can't drive stick (or rather, I can't drive stick more than a foot or so without stalling out), so my depiction of driving a manual is probably inaccurate. I can't drift either.
Another note: I have a tendency to include a bunch of casual violence in my stuff (given that they're all giant robots in a war and such), but even witnessing actual violence is terrifying. Moonracer's reaction (while tending to melodrama for the sake of mildly comedic storytelling) isn't that unrealistically dramatic.