A/N: Ok, I am having a lotta fun with this story :D And after only 2 hours I've got 11 hits! That's pretty good, right? X) lol, the story is gonna take on a third-person POV for now, but don't worry, you'll get to have some more one-on-one time with Nightbeat later on ^_^ And you'll have to be patient for Mirage's entrance :D

To my first reviewer SEZwho94! : First, you're awesome XD Second, I'm glad you like the detective chat you hear from Nightbeat in Ch.1, I was totally going for that feel. Also, thanks for letting me know Ch.2 was short, I'm honestly not sure what the general length of chapters are, and I've got a lot written down but wanted to space it out some ^_^ As for Nightbeat's age.. hmm I'm always bad at determining kid ages, but I suppose he's probably something around 8-ish. He's still young enough to carry a toy ray gun and allow others to somewhat baby him, but still getting to be old enough to be like "I'm the detective in these here parts" XD. I'm glad you're enjoying it! I'll be posting these chapters up like wildfire until I start school the 21st, but even then I'll do my best to get fast chapters out ^_^

To Vivienne Grainger (also awesome ^_^): I'm so glad you're enjoying the read! And thank you so much for the kind reviews; I'm feelin pretty darn good right now X)

To the rest, please Enjoy and Review! ^_^

Nightbeat slowly rolls over, incredibly comfortable as he drifts in and out of consciousness, oblivious to the world and the worries it bears. Soon, however, he feels the cold, rough floor of the subsurface warehouse beneath his delicate plating, the energon that is pulsing furiously through his processor and out his left shoulder in a long, warm stream brings an odd comfort to one who is partially recharging and immune to reason.

Suddenly, like a shot of the cold high-grade energon that he isn't supposed to touch but tried once when his creator was away from home, Nightbeat rises into the land of the functioning, terrifyingly aware of the danger he is in. He notes that a few of the still operational lights are on in the warehouse- they were never on. With fear gripping his spark, Nightbeat knows that he isn't alone in the dim subsurface structure.

He whirls behind the nearest crate of machinery parts, visored optics frantic as he searches, audio processors scanning for the faintest hint of another presence. He landed directly beneath the assembly line's chute; surely Brawl knows where he is.

He's toying with him. That slagging glitch-head is toying with him.

He waits for what seemed to be a short eternity. Cold condensation coats the surface of his plating but does not streak downward, seemingly frozen in place just as his chassis is. Then Nightbeat remembers where his way out is. Several machine-operated doors stand in a row where the shipping vehicles used to pull in to pick up their loads. At the farthest end of the row, there is a long metal ladder that leads to a railed catwalk which runs across the top of the row; Nightbeat presumes it's there for the workers when they needed to grease the large gears that operated the huge doors. At the end of the catwalk opposite of the first ladder is a second ladder that leads up to a hatch door in the ceiling which opens to the surface.

Nightbeat has to admit, it's an ill-planned layout, with no real means of escape besides the ceiling hatch if a fire were to start. But again, the factories of the lower-castes were built for practicality, not safety.

He has to act. He knows Brawl will be expecting him to make a run for either the door controls or the ladder. Laying all he has on the table, he makes a run for the general direction of both exit opportunities, expecting he will be intercepted before he reaches either.

Following suit, Brawl announces his presence with an exploding shell from his tank form. "'Bout time you joined the party!"

The shell lands a good distance away from Nightbeat, but the following splash effect of debris and shrapnel makes it clear that Brawl isn't aiming to obliterate, he's aiming to maul.

Hot bits of metal sear Nightbeat's plating, awarding Brawl with a short shriek which the Gladiator returns with a thunderous laugh.

"Didn't get any in your optics, didja?" Brawl lets out another manic fit of laughter at his own poor joke.

Nightbeat has to think fast; else he isn't going to last much longer. Veering his path to a sharp right away from Brawl and back into the depths of the warehouse, he's surprised to see that Brawl is chasing after him. Surely if the mech has any weight in his processor he would keep sentry at the only exits, knowing Nightbeat would eventually have to approach him again. Nightbeat is much faster than Brawl, especially when he's in his bulky tank form; he could easily lead the tank to the other end of the crowded warehouse then ditch him and make a beeline for the exit using his speed and smaller size to navigate all the crates and machinery of the warehouse. Also, if Brawl waited for Nightbeat to wake up on his own, that means he loves the thrill of waiting for his prey to fall into his trap. Why the sudden urgency?

Then it hits him, Barricade must be telling him to speed things up so they can make their getaway back to Kaon or wherever they go when they leave Capri.

Planning to follow the plan he has concluded will work, Nightbeat slows his pace when he notices Brawl is no longer behind him. Before he can locate the heavy hitter, another shell screams through the air, sending shrapnel into a nearby container, catching Nightbeat's attention with the resulting sparks. The container has an energon label and is locked into a refueling station for the transport vehicles and has a huge hose lying precariously on the floor. Time for a plan B.

Barricade is growing restless as he keeps watch at the front doorway of the factory, the cool-hued lights of the resting city playing with the contrast of his fiery optics. He told Brawl to hurry up his little revenge trip- and what, for sparkling antics? -but already it's been two breems. Barricade has to admit, it's pretty impressive how some kid as seemingly calm-natured as Nightbump or whatever it is could manage to get Brawl's reactor linkage twisted in a knot. On second thought, there was just something about the little brat that makes Barricade's processor hurt as well.

He begins to regret letting his five backup Gladiators go ahead of him to their little hideout in the subsurface levels of Iacon burrowing under Cybertron's surface. Not that he needs backup for anything, he's just getting bored and wishes there was someone around he could fight. Maybe those three sorry excuses for gangsters are-

Barricade is ripped from his line of thought when a muffled explosion rocks the ground and structure of the factory. Quickly opening a com-link with Brawl, he hears only static.

What the frag?

Another somewhat short chapter, but I'll probably put up Ch.4 today which is a much longer one :) Prowl makes his first appearance!