More Tags: Friendships, Break ups, Politics

Summary: Sin city (definition): An urban area (a city or part of) that caters to various vices. These may be legal (depending on area) or illegal activities which are tolerated. Perhaps the most well known example on Cybertron is the city-state of Praxus…

Note: Bluelight was the uncooperative OC these last few weeks…

.

.

.

Sin City

.

.

Pages 103-137

Known Associates:

Arui, Praxus Policing and Peacekeeping street patrol officer

.

Smokescreen opened the door to his apartment with his sensor panels held high with pride at winning his most recent conflict with Tiver over refusing to diagnose a Decepticon suspect with… whatever the Cybertronian Senate said was wrong with Decepticons right now. The apartment, however, was dark and those panels drooped tiredly. Ever since he'd convinced Ninetail to move into the independently run housing complex rather than her PMA employee apartment, she'd been spending more and more time at work. Victory or not, the yelling match with Tiver had exhausted him and he'd hoped she'd be here.

Slightly dejected, he moved into the darkened apartment, not bothering with the lights. He thought about energon, but ultimately decided to do without and go straight to recharge.

He'd been down for a breem when his comm beeped. Snarling he checked the caller ID, praying to Primus it wasn't Tiver telling him he needed to come back into work.

It wasn't. "Hey Bluelight," he answered tiredly.

"Hey… you and Ninetail busy tonight?"

Was he? He was tired, but he needed to relax more than he needed to recharge. Probably. Whatever Bluelight had in mind, it had the advantage of having absolutely nothing to do with work. And he hadn't seen his friend in a while. "Ninetail's still at work, but I'm free. What'd you have in mind."

"Won the Trajectory tournament at the place down the street and scored a trine of tickets to see the new Quintessons Strike Back movie. Of course I thought of the two of you first."

Quintessons Strike Back was an action-adventure series on its tenth iteration, each one worse than the last, and according to the critic reviews this one was no different. Despite their consistent horribleness, they were extremely popular. Only Primus knew why. Still… going to see a movie with a friend; hadn't he been wanting something to relax earlier? So. "Sure. You have a third in mind since Ninetail's not available or do you want me to invite one of my other friends?"

"You actually made friends at PPP?"

"Ha ha… funny. Weren't you the one who said I could make friends with a chunk of slag?"

"True. So who do you have in mind? We got a joor before the movie starts. Let me know in half a joor at the latest if your other friend can't make it and meet me at the theater maybe… four breems before the movie starts? That'll give us time for introductions and still get us a good seat."

"Sure."

As he was wont to do, Bluelight hung up before goodbyes could be exchanged.

Smokescreen levered himself out of bed and ordered the lights on in the apartment. He may have been ready to recharge without fueling first, but if he was going to a movie he needed energon. He stirred a cheap iron oxide additive into the glowing blue liquid and commed Arui while he drank.

"Smokescreen? I thought we were off-shift."

He smiled. Arui was twenty vorns old now and, though he worked part-time at the temple of Primus passing out energon to the less fortunate, he still didn't really have a life outside of work. In Smokescreen's expert opinion it was time for the youngster to learn a bit about socializing with non-policemechs. "We are. Friend of mine won a trine of movie tickets and since he's single and proud of it, he invited me and a plus one to go see it with him. Well my usual plus one is still at work so I thought you and me might go have some fun. Interested?"

A long pause followed while the young officer thought it over. Sweetie was too serious for his own good sometimes, but Smokescreen didn't push. He'd either decide to come, or he wouldn't.

Finally, "Sure. Anything special I need to do? Bring food? Polish?"

"Nope. Just bring yourself and some shanix for snacks if you want them. If you don't, I'd suggest fueling before the movie starts or else you'll be hungry by the end."

"Alright. Send me the address."

.

.

Bluelight, Praxus Medical Association medical ethics lawyer (former), political lobbyist to the Senate (current). Decepticon sympathizer.

.

This time he and Bluelight were in a really off the beaten track energon cafe. Bluelight has suggested the place. Off-Beat's Diner wasn't so much a diner as a lounge. Unlike similar places through most of Praxus which had dozens of gaming machines placed enticingly close to the tables, here there was only one player vs AI Predacon Ante machine shoved in a corner like a dirty secret. As though to support its unwanted status it even had an etched sign tacked onto it reading Out of Order that had enough pits, dings and rust on it to be a relic of Guardian Prime's reign.

Darkly lit, the tables were arranged around a short stage in the middle of the room. The schedule for the stage was tacked up on one wall and seemed mostly booked for amateur poetry; about every third name had a discrete little symbol worked into the glyphs that could only be seen with one's optics set to low-light filters. Decepticon poets. Seditious activities, or so the Senate claimed. Personally Smokescreen thought they were just a fad, and by reacting as they were, the Senate was giving the movement power, but that didn't stop them from making Smokescreen's life difficult. Fortunately for his career, tonight wasn't Decepticon poetry night; the only entertainment was a worn out vid-screen with fuzzy picture running celebrity scandal pieces.

Smokescreen was not drunk. The high grade in this place wasn't really worth drinking, but the cafe's specialty midgrade was delicious, smoky and slightly spicy with a recipe of powdered metals Off-Beat's cooks refused to divulge, and he'd perhaps drunk more of that than was wise.

Little known fact: It was possible to get over energized from midgrade. It just required such a high volume of fuel that most mechs would reach their tank capacity long before that happened. You could, if you were really determined to get drunk off it, keep your tank topped off for a joor or so, taking in the energon at the same or nearly the same speed your systems pulled it from your tank to achieve an over energized state. There just really wasn't much of a point to it. Usually. Off-Beat's midgrade blend was really good, okay?

He didn't know how Bluelight had found this place — and didn't want to, like, at all. He insisted that he wasn't a Decepticon and didn't come here for the poetry, and Smokescreen very carefully ignored the fact that, for what basically amounted to a corporate lawyer, Bluelight was a horrible liar. It wasn't going to be today, or tomorrow or perhaps not even for a hundred vorns, but eventually the Senate was going to outright outlaw the Decepticon movement and when that orn came Smokescreen was not going to have let himself have evidence of his friend's activities.

If they'd been home — either of their homes — he might have been willing to debate the topic, but here, even if it wasn't poetry night, he wasn't going to risk it. It'd be too much like a recruitment attempt.

"So what was this news you just had to share?" He didn't ask if Ninetail should have been here for this announcement. As the vorns had worn on and they'd mostly gone their separate ways, Bluelight and Ninetail had grown apart, though if anything it should have been Smokescreen who'd become estranged given that both his friends were still working for PMA at least and he wasn't. All three of them were busy mechs, and an emergency room nurse kept strange hours; Smokescreen and Bluelight both had jobs that, while they tended to run late, at least pretended to have a regular schedule.

Bluelight leaned in, quietly excited but also nervous. "I finally paid off PMA."

"Huh?" Smokescreen twitched his sensor panels in confusion. "I thought you were planning on staying one of their lobbyists? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, but why bother?"

"I was," he still looked nervous, but now he wouldn't meet Smokescreen's optics. Not sure Smokescreen would approve, maybe. Which he privately thought was utter slag. Whatever his friend's new life goals, it wasn't his place to dictate. "I got another offer. From Kaon."

That burned up Smokecreen's extra energy in a flash. Kaon. There was only one thing there that might interest Bluelight. Completely sober, he leaned in and lowered his voice. "You cannot be thinking of officially joining the Decepticons."

"Why not?" Bluelight hissed back. "Everyone else… it's just stopgaps. The Decepticons are angling for real change, and because most of their members are lower-caste, laborers and miners and such, they don't have the lawyers and public speakers they'll need to take our concerns directly to the Senate. I can make a real difference there, not just playing on a corporate rivalry in an attempt to prevent honest citizens from being exploited, which is what my job now is."

That, Smokesreen thought, is conviction. And it wasn't his place to change is friend's mind. "Alright. Fine. Happy for you, sir, Decepticon, sir," but he couldn't let Bluelight go without a last warning. "Just, be careful. It's all just whispers and stirrings and politics right now, but the Senate's already taking steps, trying to discredit your movement. Don't… do anything stupid, in Kaon, okay? It's not like Praxus."

"I know. I won't."

"Well." He said, forcing his voice into a tone of good cheer. "This is a moment of celebration. So why aren't we celebrating?"

Bluelight laughed, and waved over the waitstaff to order another round of their extremely excellent midgrade.

.

.

Moonlight, Praxus Policing and Peacekeeping night shift supervising officer (former, see attached criminal file)

.

Smokescreen looked blearily through the forcefield at the mech standing on the other side. He squinted; for some reason his optics weren't focusing right…right. That was because he was in alt mode. "…oonlight?" Was that his voice? He sounded drunk…

No wait. That was probably because he was drunk. Drunk enough to land himself in — he looked blearily around — a PPP impound lot? Why would he get that drunk?

"Yeah, kid," oblivious to the internal line of questioning, the other mech answered. At least he didn't sound amused; there was nothing amusing about — "I paid your fine and arrest charge too. You're lucky drunk and disorderly's a cheap one. Come on. Let's get you home."

"..ou paid…?"

"Yeah." Moonlight stepped forward and the cell's forcefield deactivated and another officer unlocked the parking restraint attached to his back end. Smokescreen flailed a bit, trying to transform and stand but only managing to twitch his doors open about an inch before slamming them closed again, finally giving up when the room tilted suddenly sideways. The other 'bot just shook his head and pulled him out of his parking space by the tow cable still attached to his bumper. "I'll just take it out of your fee for your next consult."

"Shhuuur…"

"That's the spirit."

Dragged through the precinct — not his, thank Primus, at least he didn't think so; everything was painted a bright orange Tiver-the-brown would never abide in his domain — he thought mostly about letting his wheels turn at the same slow pace Moonlight was dragging him and not steering himself into to things despite the officer's best effort. Over energized as he was, even that much was a monumental effort, perfect to keep him from thinking about —

Of course getting home was going to be… something. He wasn't certain he could find his transformation protocols; he definitely couldn't drive in his condition. This — this was a real concern. Moonlight's alternate form wasn't much bigger than Smokescreen's. There would be no carrying him, not that far. He needed to know. "…ow?" Moonlight only tightened his grip to more carefully maneuver his drunk passenger through the building. Smokescreen tried again. "C…nnn't drrrvvv…"

This time the other officer answered. "Yea. I figured that out on my own. Your driving protocols are still locked. Didn't want to pay for a DUI or assaulting an officer as well as the drunk and disorderly. I'll tow you home and unlock them for you there."

A wave of gratitude swamped Smokescreen. His engine sputtered alarmingly as he sniffled. Bluelight would've dragged him home — on his feet, since unlike Moonlight he would have needed the police to unlock Smokescreen from alternate form — but wouldn't have paid for the charges. Drunk and disorderly wasn't much of a charge — there wouldn't even be a trial; they'd just throw you out the next day when you sobered up — but since a mech was locked out of his funds for the duration, it could be the start of a debt, either to PPP or to whoever paid your fine and arrest charge while you were in the clink. Except Bluelight couldn't have hauled him home after at night like last night, binge drinking after discovering — not thinking about that. Bluelight couldn't have hauled him home because Bluelight was gone. Gone to Kaon to make the difference in people's lives he'd always wanted to make. And Smokescreen was here, working for part of the system that was just as corrupt as any other part, but anarchy wasn't exactly a viable option either, was it? And that's what they'd have without police. Right?

This was suddenly of monumental importance. He needed to ask Moonlight about this right now. "…key riiiite?"

Moonlight just grunted. "I really hope you didn't lose your key to your own place. If you did, I'm charging you rent for staying on my couch until the lock's fixed."

Okay. Not the answer he was hoping for.

"So why'd you go off the rails last night and over energize to the point of getting arrested? It's not like you." Smokescreen was not thinking about that, so he just rumbled his engine discontentedly. "Hey! Don't purge on me!"

That actually sounded like a fabulous idea. Best part: not answering questions he didn't want to think about.

.

.

Ninetail, Praxus Medical Association nurse-assistant

.

This, he thought, was what broken dreams looked like. Honestly he was disappointed. He rather thought broken dreams should look like rubble strewn across the floor. Broken cubes and smashed entertainment systems and splintered data pads. Instead, his broken dreams were a neat pile of boxes filled with his stuff, being hauled away by moving mechs and loaded into a small cargo transport alt while he signed over the funds for breaking his lease.

Ninetail had already moved her things out, moving in with her not-so-new mech-toy.

For a moment he wished he was still in the get-blindingly-drunk phase of shock and grief, but eventually he'd sober up again and his systems hurt and Ninetail will have still been cheating and he'd still be moving out of their apartment. Being drunk didn't actually change anything. He just really wished it did.

With one last flourish of electrons, the funds transferred and that was it. This apartment, this place where they were supposed to be together, was no longer his. The movers took the last box out and he followed it.

.

.

tbc…

.

.

Note: Curious as to Bluelight's ultimate fate in Kaon? Check out my short story in this series Burning In the Skies.