AN: Aaaaaaaaand, we're back! Which is... quite surreal, really, given how long it took for me to get the last chapter out.
These next two instalments focus on Arcee settling into Vos and getting used to the new way she's expected to live - hopefully you guys will find it interesting enough to stick around, because after that it's the bonding ceremony and that's where things REALLY kick off.
(Also, another note on the councillors - I've since discovered that Switchblade is a jet anyway, so the idea of him being a former seeker who switched back isn't needed. Don't think I included it in the fic itself, but just wanted to clear that up. :))
Anyway, hope you guys like this one, and thanks for the lovely reviews; they're really good as a metaphorical kick up the butt to get me writing. ;)
After several drawn-out megacycles, Windblade finally showed an exhausted Arcee to her new quarters. The citadel contained room enough for numerous guests and inhabitants, but few bots actually made use of the accommodation. Her hab suite was the only one occupied in a line of five, down a south-east facing corridor.
Pedes dragging slightly, the Autobot made for a tall, rounded window at the end of the hall and collapsed into the seat below.
"I'll head inside soon," she told the bodyguard. "Just need to rest - these new wings are a fragging pain in the aft to walk with, especially touring a place this size."
Speaking of pains in the aft, the councilmechs hadn't been much better. Arcee might've been masquerading as an upper-caste femme (for all the value castes held now, after the war), but it was clear that the poor substitute for a seeker she portrayed wasn't good enough for their Winglord - or Crown Prince, as they insisted on calling him. Six appraising stares, and six muttered slights against her alias' appearance was the greeting she'd received. The loudest stares and mutters had been perpetrated by Polaris: a severe, angular femme painted in black, grey and white. It had had the uncomfortable air of some warped 'meet the parents' scenario, with Starscream remainimg uptight and near-silent throughout the introductions.
As she mulled this over, Arcee became aware of Windblade staring at her.
"What?!"
She wasn't in the mood to be courteous.
"I didn't think someone of your status would use language like that, Lady Nightracer. Is something wrong?"
Scrap.
Processor whirring to come up with an excuse, the Autobot groaned. That wouldn't exactly help her case, but Primus did she need to vent her frustration somehow.
She hadn't even lasted a day.
"Okay. Um." Arcee swung her pedes up onto the seat and folded her arms across her knees. Windblade arched an optic ridge at this further breach of upper-caste etiquette, tilting her helm.
An idea occurred to the grey seeker, and she patted the ledge beside her.
"Sit down. I guess I should confess to someone, and it might as well be you."
Warily, the bodyguard obeyed. Arcee threw in a sigh for good measure before beginning.
"You saw the councillors earlier, right? When I was introduced?"
Windblade nodded. "Of course I did."
"Did you see the way they looked at me? Like I was a... a diseased scraplet, that they'd found in somebody's sparkchamber?"
"I don't think they all"-
"-No, but most of them did. Red Wing, Bitstream, Polaris - Ramjet too, but I guess that was for different reasons - they disapprove of me. They're fixated on upholding tradition." She averted her optics. "Imagine how they'd look at me if they knew that I stopped upholding that the minute I left the planet."
Comprehension was beginning to dawn on the other femme's face. She leaned forwards, but still wore a slight frown.
"Thing is, the war made me realise status doesn't matter. It's not like I escaped ithe fighting - I left early on, but both factions made that move too, eventually. You must have run into soldiers at some point, you'll remember what it was like..."
"Yeah," Windblade agreed. "Nobody really bothered us on Ca- on the colony where I was staying, but when I started out... They didn't have much sympathy for us, did they?"
Arcee smiled wryly in agreement. She herself had sympathised with the Neutrals to a degree, not least beacause Moonracer had originally been one; but many of her comrades had been far less forgiving.
Windblade reminded her of Moonie in some ways, with her cheerful manner and quiet concern. A niggling thought at the back of her CPU was whispering about guilt and deceit - but she couldn't afford to feel bad about lying to the other femme. It was either deception to maintain her cover (and her safety) or a few more untruths against an already-blackened record.
And she'd do best to further said cover's preservation. The best lies were said to have kernels of truth in them - time to test that.
"The councillors, though" - an exasperated gesture in the direction of the front tower - "most of them ran even earlier than I did. Starscream's told me. They were given shelter on other planets the moment they left; I had to fight for survival more times than I can remember while I was out there. I never really managed to settle anywhere." Arcee laughed bitterly and felt no need to feign it: she had nothing but resentment for the Vosnian councilmechs. Much as for their Winglord.
"Windblade, I might've been high-caste once... but that was before the war. Now I'm just playing a part whenever I act like them."
Only I've never played this part before, and it's all too easy to break character.
"I... see," the other femme responded hesitantly. "I understand why you'd want to act that way, I guess. I've not got much love for the council myself. But Lady Nightracer"-
"Just Nightracer. Please. And tell Metalhawk to stop calling me that, too."
That finally earned a grin from the swordsfemme. "Nightracer, then. I think you should know - for all that you're putting on an act for the council, you don't seem stuck up, like them. Far from it."
"That's a relief, I guess." The Autobot rose to her pedes. "Now, c'mon. You're supposed to show me which room's mine, right?"
The bodyguard nodded and imitated Arcee, spreading her wings in some semblance of a stretch.
"You're in the second suite from the end," she said, pointing. "None of them are in brilliant shape, I'm afraid, but that one's held up better than the others."
As poor repair as they may have been in, Arcee's new lodgings seemed almost luxurious compared to her room at the Autobot base. However, ithey weren't without their shortcomings. Inside, the suite was dim enough that she had to reboot her optics upon entering to adjust to the dark. The wall panels were dull - even rusted in the corners, if she wasn't mistaken - and the air felt a little stale, but she had a set of three rooms to herself; each larger on its own than her old berthchamber.
As she wandered through she let her gaze drift over the furnishings. Everything was small and lost-looking, stranded on wide stretches of floor, and most of the suite's contents were as visibly worn as the space they occupied. Arcee could empathise with the former: the citadel, with its high ceilings and echoing halls, had her almost disoriented after living so long in the underground confines of the Autobot base.
After investigating the washracks (rusted, gloomy) and the berthroom (dusty, gloomier), she returned to her new living area and flopped onto a battered couch. Windblade was making for the door.
"Stay for a while. Please," Arcee said, nodding to a chair across from her. It was missing an arm. She paused, and gestured instead to another, nearby couch.
Windblade smiled and obliged, leaning forwards once she was seated to rest her elbows on her knees.
"I suppose Starscream can manage without me for a bit longer."
"I bet he can," Arcee muttered, as various battlefield skirmishes sprang to mind. Then she caught herself. "I mean, he's the Decepticon second-in-command. He must be able to hold his own in a fight. Why does he even need a bodyguard?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure," Windblade replied. "It's probably a status thing. I wouldn't know - I haven't really been working for him for all that long. Got hired after the last conscription was called."
"Conscription?" Starscream hadn't mentioned that before.
"To Cybertron's armed forces." Windblade grimaced. "Megatron's got a high demand for seekers, and that included Lord Starscream's old bodyguard. Acid Storm, I think his name was. Last I heard, he was working for Shockwave."
Arcee frowned at that. Shockwave was a scientist - what use did he have for soldiers? Even ones who had been close to Starscream?
Unless he was experimenting on them...
She hoped that wasn't the case, though - especially since she'd witnessed first hand just how ruthless the cyclops could be.
"I don't think Acid Storm was Starscream's original bodyguard, either," Windblade was saying. "There's bots getting drafted so often... I'll probably be cycled out next." The red femme bit her lip. "I don't want to go, for obvious reasons, but there's not much I can do. Metalhawk's always been around, though - I'm pretty sure Starscream must've vouched for him so he wouldn't get called up."
Her optics dimmed. "I wish he'd do the same for me. I don't want to join the 'Cons."
Arcee reached across and took the other femme's servo in her own.
"I don't want to fight," the Neutral continued. "I didn't come back to Cybertron to fight. I came back to learn. About..."
"About?" the grey seeker prompted. She found herself wanting to gain the femme's trust despite her earlier resolution - Primus knew she needed an ally here.
"I wanted to learn about the Metrotitans," Windblade replied in a rush. "When I heard the planet had been resurrected, I hoped"-
"You hoped that that included the Cityformers," Arcee finished.
"It's stupid, I know, but... I'd always dreamed of seeing them."
The bodyguard hesitated.
"If you don't mind me asking, why did you come here, Lady- I mean, Nightracer?"
"Same as everyone else, I guess," the Autobot replied. "I wanted to see home again, and"-
-"Not back to Cybertron. Why did you agree to come to Vos? I saw the way you were acting around Starscream earlier. You say that you're friends, but you don't act like it."
"You're perceptive, aren't you?" Arcee smiled grimly, shifting in her seat. "First you blew my cover and now you're picking apart my relationship with my Intended."
Windblade ducked her head. "I didn't mean to"-
"Don't apologise. You're right. Honestly, I'm not sure where we stand right now. He's- he's not the mech I knew before."
She hoped that the bodyguard would buy that, cliched as it was. This at least was something she'd seen coming. Even if she'd had any real talent at acting, she knew that her hostility towards Starscream would be apparent on some level, but luckily she'd been able to prepare a functional, if unimaginative, reason.
It doesn't need to be some elaborate sob story - just enough to keep everyone off my back.
"I guess I should've expected it. I've not been living under a rock, I've heard stories... but when he contacted me, it seemed like he'd barely changed. I think I hoped that was true, but I didn't really believe it. Some of the things they say he's done..." Arcee hoped her shudder didn't look too forced. "He explained the situation to me and I agreed, but I didn't register that this was the Decepticon second-in-command. I was just talking to the Starscream I knew from back before the war."
"You don't strike me as the sort of femme to just jump into something like that," Windblade protested. "You- you weren't coerced or anything, right?"
That wouldn't have been above him, I bet, if it'd come to it. "No, I wasn't forced. Starscream's done a lot of stuff that I don't want to think about - and there's some things I... I don't want to believe he's done - but making me agree to this wasn't one of them. I'm here of my own free will, even if it might not seem like it."
"But why"-
"I really don't want to go into detail, Windblade," Arcee interrupted sharply. The red femme recoiled a little and the Autobot sighed, softening her tone.
"Look, it's been a long day in a new place - new faces, new stuff to get used to. I don't want to think about all that right now. Just... let me get some rest, alright?"
Windblade nodded, rose, and headed for the door. Her wings were drooping slightly; oddly reminiscent of the forlorn way Moonracer's biolights flickered when she was worried. That thought prompted a pang of homesickness, with a generous helping of guilt twisted in.
"Sorry," Arcee called out, and bodyguard turned back. "I. Um. I know I invited you in the first place, and now it feels like I'm kicking you out"-
"It's alright, Nightracer," Windblade smiled. "I'm supposed to look out for you, but if you need privacy and rest then that's what I'll give you." She inhaled slowly, averting a now-anxious gaze.
"If you need my help, though - for anything at all - please just ask."
It was like a weight off Arcee's spark once the guard had left. Between Windblade's questioning and the council's earlier scrutinies, she was starting to feel more like a lab specimen than an 'honoured' guest. They were right to be suspicious, of course - if they knew the full story then both she and Starscream would be captured and executed in a sparkbeat. Even so, it was exhausting keeping up her charade under such close examination.
Maybe it wasn't a rest she needed after all. In truth, Arcee already wanted out; if only for a few hours. She needed to ditch Nightracer and be herself again.
The corner of her mouth quirked upwards as she remembered Chromia's goodbye that morning. Reaching into her subspace, she withdrew the device that her friend had slipped her: the old holographic paint chip, newly repaired by Perceptor.
The femme had read the message in Chromia's smile earlier, but Arcee doubted whether she or Moonie would be expecting her back so soon.
Then again, they might not be too surprised. It had been a pretty knowing smile...
It was darker than Arcee had anticipated by the time she made it out of the citadel. The sun was barely visible above the broken skyline, pulling the shadows under the looming towers out into long, jagged fingers. With her newly-black paint job and swift pedes the femme went almost unseen as she flitted through the streets. Her wings only overbalanced her once or twice.
She knew the way well enough after her frequent patrol detours - and had even shot a glare at the statue as she left, for old time's sake. Thankfully, security had been lax when it came to the side door she'd found, and nobody seemed to have spotted her crossing the courtyard.
No one was really around to see her beyond the gates, either. There was no curfew imposed in Vos (unlike Iacon and other more northern cities), but few seekers nowadays had the credits or energon needed to fuel any kind of prolific nightlife. Many, too, would be exhausted after a day working in the mines.
Arcee had learned all that from Starscream. During breaks in their flying lessons she'd pressed the seeker for information on his city, determined that she wouldn't be going in blind. He'd never mentioned the drafting, though.
Perhaps deliberately, the femme mused, recalling his stance on the seekers being sent down the mines.
"We were built for flight. It's an integral part of our society - so much so that we need it in order to stay healthy! For Megatron to ignome that just shows how little he cares about his... subjects.
"... In all honesty, it's something of a sore subject. I'd rather you didn't ask me about that again."
Arcee remembered thinking at the time that it must have been, if it'd moved him to answer so politely. But now - as she turned down an alleyway shortcut that she'd taken on her patrols before - looking around, it didn't seem so funny. The whole city was showing signs of the strain placed on the seekers, which wasn't surprising given that those made up the majority of its inhabitants. Most buildings were covered in a rime of soot, and at least one on every street was shut up and abandoned. Ahead, she spied a lone seeker hurrying across the mouth of the alley.
She didn't see the two sneaking up behind her until it was too late.
A knee slammed into her backstrut, sending her sprawling to the ground with a crash and a yell. The display was met with a high-pitched, screeching laugh.
"Wanna do the honours for this one, Antagony? You did take her out - not that it was difficult!"
And Arcee had thought Starscream's voice was annoying. The Autobot groaned and tried to push herself up, but her wings were a stubborn weight resisting her efforts. Someone's pede stamped down between them and she cried out as she felt plating buckle. The impact jarred her paint chip - static crackled over her body as her disguise melted away.
A raspy female voice sounded close to her audio, accompanied by digits poking at her side.
"Holy slag..." it muttered. "Terrorsoar, it's the Winglord's new little berthwarmer! Forget this one's subspace - we'd be better to ransom her or something."
"Hm..." the first voice mused, as its owner paced around Arcee. "Who to, though? People've been saying that Megatron's not happy about the bonding thing. How much d'you reckon he'd pay to get her out of the picture?"
"Don't be stupid!" Antagony hissed. "How would we even contact him? And it's not like he'd believe us, anyway. We'll hide her, then send a message to the citadel."
"But"-
They were arguing. Dimly, Arcee registered this fact through the pain and realised she'd been given a distraction. As her captors continued to bicker she rolled to the side - this time taking advantage of her wings' weight to gain momentum - and smashed into Antagony, carrying them both into the wall with a crunch. The other femme gave a screech, but Terrorsoar seemed momentarily too stunned to act.
That wouldn't last. Arcee staggered to her pedes as quickly as she was able, ignoring the pain that shot down her backstrut, and charged forwards, barrelling past the mech. She caught a brief glimpse of wide red optics and crimson plating before the mech yelped and jumped aside.
Her flight carried her halfway back along the passage, with Antagony's screams of abuse at Terrorsoar echoing along behind. However, one wing was listing to the side from her injury, and as she slowed down there was no way to counterbalance it. Arcee crumpled to the ground.
Footsteps were following her, accompanied by Terrorsoar's shrill laughter. Close to panic, the femme pushed herself upright, trying to throw a punch.
Her balance was off, so she missed horrendously. The mech caught her arm and wrenched it upwards another cackle. Arcee clenched her denta in a bid not to scream in pain and lashed out with a pede. Her foot scraped his leg harmlessly.
I can't fight in this new frame.
The thought was as terrifying as it was overwhelming - without her combat skills, she was out of options.
... Or maybe she still had one left.
Starscream had given her his comm. frequency.
There was no guarantee that he'd deign to come to her aid - for all she knew, he'd let her be kidnapped and pay the ransom - but he was her last hope. She couldn't exactly call the Autobots out here.
And one thing she did know, from experience, was that he could be damn slagging good in a fight.
::Starscream!:: she yelled into the comm. A startled ping answered. Realising that her second assailant was moving in - presumably to knock her out - she kept the message short. A relaying of her coordinates; a quick ::Been captured::, and a swing of her pede at Antagony's waist, and Arcee cut the transmission.
She'd actually made contact with her kick that time, but only enough to scratch the armour. As both of her would-be kidnappers laughed the Autobot tried to wriggle out of Terrorsoar's grip. The wiring in her arm felt like it was being ripped apart after her first few attempts, but with a particularly violent twist Arcee slipped free and dropped.
Terrorsoar and Antagony both gave shouts of surprise and moved to grab their captive as Arcee danced awkwardly out of reach; leaning on the alley wall for support. High buildings on either side blocked most of the rapidly dwindling light, so all she could see of the others was two pairs of optics - one wide and red, the other narrow and livid violet - and vague silhouettes. The red-eyed silhouette lunged - Arcee grabbed for the shadowy arm that extended and swung him round into the wall.
Unfortunately, it swung her round too - straight into Antagony's grip. The other femme latched onto her wing and pulled, sending Arcee to join Terrorsoar on the floor as the pain made her double over. She knelt there, servos clenched against the ground as her backstrut throbbed, and prayed that Starscream would bother to show up.
Terrorsoar began to pick himself up - but froze as an engine roared overhead. Someone transformed and dropped to land beside him, switching their floodlights on and nearly blinding Arcee. They straightened up, dealt a kick to his helm that knocked him down again, then unsheathed a sword -
Sword?! Arcee didn't remember -
- And Windblade pointed her weapon at Antagony's throat.
"Step away from her. Now."
Arcee's optics widened slightly as she noticed the tremor in the bodyguard's voice, but the other two seemed not to hear it. They were too preoccupied with hightailing it down they alley.
The Autobot glanced up from the floor to meet Windblade's uncertain gaze.
"Should we... go after them?" the red femme asked.
Arcee smiled wryly.
"You really haven't been in the job long, have you? Rule number one of being a bodyguard: always protect the principle. And I kinda need a lot of protecting right now." She gestured to her torn wing joint. "I'm not exactly fit to defend myself."
Despite what I told Polaris earlier, the femme realised. The councillor would love to see this, she didn't doubt.
Windblade extended a servo to help her up.
"Had experience, have you?"
"Yeah." But not on the end that you'd think.
As Arcee hobbled over to lean on the wall, Windblade folded her arms.
"So, I think this is where I ask you what in Pit's name you were thinking," she deadpanned. "And I think Starscream would like to know, too."
"I..." Arcee wracked her CPU for an excuse. "I'd heard that an old friend of mine had ended up here, but... well, she's a Neutral. If Megatron somehow heard that the Winglord's Intended has allies in one of the so-called 'rebel' groups..."
Windblade regarded her skeptically for a moment before shrugging and turning back up the passage.
"I would've thought he'd know that anyway, soon enough," she said.
"Huh?"
To Arcee's relief, Windblade was grinning when she caught up.
"I'm your friend, aren't I? Although I've gotta say"- the bodyguard giggled -"when I offered to help you, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind!"
The Autobot laughed with her, but couldn't help feeling a stab of guilt. Windblade thought she was befriending Nightracer, and while Arcee had resolved not to care about it, it was hard not to be remorseful about deceiving the bodyguard. Which Windblade didn't deserve anyway, particularly since under different circumstances the former two-wheeler would have loved to know her, as herself.
However, the Neutral was hiding something too. It was subtle, but Arcee had picked up on it, and she resolved to ask Starscream a few choice questions about Windblade's position at the citadel.
Figuring out the other femme could wait for the moment, she decided. All she currently wanted to do was head back to the citadel and get fixed up.
Though as she fielded a sudden angry ping from Starscream, demanding that she explain herself, an idea began to form in her CPU. She might have to wait until the Winglord had calmed down before asking - but if her suspicions about Windblade were correct it could solve two problems at once.
AN: So technically, I got two chapters out this month! Hope you guys enjoyed this one, despite the sad lack of Starcee interaction - but the next few chapters should make up for that. And chapter nine should see a lot of interaction (winkwink).
Also, the misspelling of Terrorsoar's name was intentional, since I'm applying the same sort of principle as with the IDW 'Dynobots'. :)
Keep the reviews coming, and I'll try to step up my production game for NaNo this month!
EDIT: Artemis Crimson, I would be SO honoured if you made a playlist for this fic! Do you have a tumblr/FF account that would let us talk about it?
