summary: 2007 movieverse. mostly pre-earth: some archetypes are universal. some legends transcend species. and sometimes there's nothing left to do but out race the moons.
disclaimer: names, places and concepts that are recognizable aren't mine. since i shamelessly raided a list of mini-cons from armada for names, i don't even own the oc's. i do own the plot, though.
warnings: battle violence. cussing. lots of weirdness. eventual male pronoun robot / male pronoun robot romance.
Were-cars of Cybertron: part three
Rhythm revved his systems when he felt Red Alert's energy field brush against his. Sure winning his race against Barricade, then getting some time to just drive, re-familiarizing himself with the energy fields of the entire Track and just feel the wind and the road had put him in a good mood, but he was still a bit fragged at Red for almost making him late.
Too bad he couldn't just tell the officer what he endangered by harassing Rhythm -- the Track under Redline and Rhythm was stable, didn't let its internal and territorial conflicts spill over onto non-shifters, and was mostly law abiding. The Iacon Track under Barricade would be the absolute Pit for the Iacon police.
So a succinct "I'm still fragged at you, Red," was his greeting when the red and white stopped him to talk.
Red being Red, immediately looked both angry and suspicious. That wasn't anything new. But, y'know, other than being a bit angry at Red, Rhythm was still in a good enough mood that the usual attitude wasn't really bothering him. He just leaned against the nearest wall and watched Red work himself into a right fit.
"Excuse me."
Rhythm turned his attention to Red's companion for the first time. And barely stopped himself from grimacing -- black and white, almost the same pattern as Barricade. But there were differences too -- one, he didn't have tires so he either wasn't a were-car, or he was still blending in (something both Rhythm and Barricade had given up on a long time ago), but if he was a were-car he should have gotten Redline and Rhythm's permission before coming to Iacon. And, two, his entire demeanor couldn't be more different than Barricade's.
"Yes," Rhythm drawled back at the officer -- he wasn't anyone he'd ever seen before, but he couldn't be anything else if he was hanging out with Red.
"I apologize for interrupting your day, but I do need to discuss a few things with you. Is there someplace where we can speak privately."
Polite too. Not something Rhythm encountered often, wearing his tires openly and all. "'Kay. But he," he waved at the mulish looking Red, "doesn't get t' come with."
Red sputtered, and Rhythm grinned. His day was looking better already. The black and white's calm blue optics didn't even look at the other officer when Red tried to protest, just continued to look at Rhythm as though trying to judge just how serious he was. Then held out his hand to halt Red's protests. "Very well. Red Alert, you will stay here."
He gestured for Rhythm to lead the way. Rhythm couldn't help but shoot Red a triumphant smarmy grin as he turned to do so. He could practically feel the glare on his back. Glitch deserved it anyway, after last night.
He led the black and white over to where public tech-chess tables had been set up along one side of a sculpture garden. This time of day the garden only had a few viewers, and no one playing tech-chess -- private enough. It was also a relatively open area where it'd be almost impossible to sneak up on them, and Rhythm could make a quick escape from if he needed.
"You play?" He asked the quiet officer.
"Occasionally."
"We can play and talk then. My name's Rhythm, by the way."
"Prowl."
Nice. Almost a were-car name.
Rhythm offered Prowl the choice of sides in tech-chess and the officer chose to go second. Rhythm made the first move. "So wha'cha want t' talk about."
Prowl moved his piece. "I'm wondering why you're so... 'fragged' you said... at Red Alert. He could have insisted on taking you to the station for talking to him like that."
Rhythm studied the board a bit, then moved his first piece again. "'Cause last night he did haul me t' the station. I was almost late t' the gathering. Coulda lost my position."
"What is your position?" Prowl moved a second piece.
"Not high. Just barely not a sentry. Don't wanna be a sentry." Not the truth, but not quite a lie either. If Barricade took over the Track, he'd probably throw Rhythm and Redline down to sentry duty until they could work their way back up to challenge him. He contemplated the board. Politely Prowl waited for him to make his move. He did so, setting up a fairly obvious trap in the process.
The black and white didn't look like he was going to take the bait on the trap. "I need to talk to your Track's First."
"No." Rhythm didn't even have to think about the answer. Prowl paused, still holding the piece he intended to move.
"Excuse me."
"Ain't gonna tell you how t' find our First. Tha's something he's pretty firm on. He and our Second are pretty fair, but we still don't disobey them on those things, and our Third's a mean fragger. I really don't want t' give him an excuse."
Prowl placed the tech-chess piece. "I see."
They played several turns in silence. Until Rhythm asked, "Wha'cha wanna talk t' him about? I could probably pass a message..."
He seemed to think about that for a moment, then pulled a datapad out of subspace and handed it to the silver were-car. Curiously he opened the first file.
And nearly dropped the pad in shock. "What the frag?"
The black and white had discarded any pretense of examining the game and was openly watching the were. "Over a dozen, all during the two single full, the double full, and the double dark moons -- the four nights in a lunar cycle a shapeshifter is forced to transform. Two or three a night during those nights. And it's obviously the work of ground-forms rather than anything in the sky."
Rhythm tossed the pad back across the tech-chess game, with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary. "It ain't us. First is gonna be fragged and good when he finds out."
"You see why I need to speak with him -- and with your Second and Third as well."
"Yeah, I see. But it ain't my call. Technically we ain't even supposed t' admit t' you were 'shifters. Kinda hard not t' when we're wearing our tires, but I really can't tell you how t' find them. I'll pass the message up, though."
"Very well. You do know that if your track does not cooperate with the investigation, though, I will have no choice but to consider you all suspects."
"Yeah. I know. I said I'd pass the message, didn't I. Can't do more than that -- the enforcers'll tear off my plating if I do more. I kinda like my plating where it is."
"I won't bother pointing out that the police are required to protect you from the threat of bodily harm."
Primus. Who was this guy? He knew too much about how a track worked -- managed to strike the right balance between authoritive police and allowing the Track to work it out for itself. He knew the rules. Rhythm had never met a non-shifter who knew the rules. Very few shifters who weren't were-cars even knew more than the trivia of how a track worked.
They played for a while longer, Rhythm answering the officer's questions about the Track's activities over the last few months as best he could without hinting at his position in the hierarchy. Prowl's polite distance never faltered. He was never anything but perfectly civil to the silver were-car. And despite the investigation now looming over the Track, Rhythm couldn't help to respond. How long had it been since someone other than Redline had really looked past the fact that he had tires? Well there was Orion, but he didn't believe in shapeshifters and ignored the differences in Rhythm's form that marked him as such. And sure the other were-cars never had a bad thing to say -- well except Barricade -- but that was because Rhythm was Track Second and most were intimidated by him and his hold over the twins.
Grinning softly, Rhythm surrendered the game. "Tha was fun, Prowl. We'll have t' do it again -- hopefully without the interrogation though."
Prowl only noddded and stood. Feeling the need to match the officer's courtesy, Rhythm did the same. They nodded goodbye and turned to head in separate directions, but Rhythm turned back.
"Prowl, can I get a copy of the case file?" The mech stiffened, and Rhythm revised the request. "Just a couple of the pictures -- don't need any of the details. But I'd like something t' pass on with the message, so the hierarchy knows you police are serious this time."
Prowl thought about it, then copied a few files from the datapad to a disk.
"Thanks."
The black and white just nodded again, and went back to where he'd left Red Alert waiting. Rhythm smirked when he realized that if the suspicious red and white had obeyed the order he'd been given, he wast still waiting over by the market stand where they'd stopped him to talk. A slight bounce entered his step at the thought that he'd managed to pull one over on the fragger without disobeying the Track policy for dealing with the police.
tbc
note: none this time. is it normal to be this tired after a vacation...
