~~Despicable~~

By Ayngel


Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or make any money

*WARNINGS*: Sticky, smutty and NC17. Whole story contains sticky type mech-sex, stalking, voyeurism, coarse sexual language and descriptions. Additional warning for Mirage being an aft. This chapter has one sticky sex encounter with some oral sex.

Notes: Thank you all readers and reviewers. I'm always happy to hear what people think of this :-) The story can also be found on Archive of Our Own under 'Ayngelcat.'

Chapter Summary: Hound, Mirage and Cliffjumper return to the Autobot base, where Hound and Mirage have different ideas about the future.

This story is still following G1 1984 'More than Meets the Eye' at the start of Season 1, and those familiar with Part 3 will recognize the scene with Ravage in the cage - though there is some poetic licence!


~~Chapter 9~~

On Cybertron, Earth A.D. 1984

Moonracer hesitated. Then opened the door to the control room. A whirring mass of machines and computer screens greeted her, the mastermind of the new Cybertron they'd been fashioning since the alliance with Shockwave.

Darn it, and all this was probably about to change.

Elita looked up, her face radiating the excitement that had been apparent ever since this endeavor began, unaware of the sudden turn of fate. "Ah Moonracer – you wanted a word," she said.
A couple of breems later, the Autobot femme leader's face was ashen. "Are you absolutely certain?" she kept saying.

"It's a weak transmission," Moonracer repeated. "But it's my brother Mirage all right. They're alive – all of them. They're on that planet they set out for – they made it after all. Seems there was some kind of a battle and they were offlined for a few million years. But all seems to have taken on where it left off now."

Elita seemed to be having trouble saying anything at all. "But Prime!" she gasped. "I thought he was…I was certain he was…what in the universe am I...?"

She seized Moonracer's arm. "You must never tell him about Shockwave and I, Moon. Never! That's an order."

Moonracer was hardly surprised by this. "I won't," she said. "But we'd better make some plans. Megatron's on the verge of coming back up here. And that means Prime's sure to follow, and…"
"The war will be with us all over again!" Elita's fists clenched. "All our good work, Moon - trust mechs to ruin everything! Well it can't happen! It won't!"

She fumed for a moment or two, then turned to the other Alpha-femme. Her optics narrowed. "And where, exactly, is Mirage in all this?"

"It - uh - sounds like he's hitching a ride with the Decepticons," Moonracer said hesitantly, knowing well the opinion that the femme leader held for her brother and not looking forward to discussing the subject.

"I don't think he likes this Earth place that much. It seems he doesn't want to wait for the Autobot response. He's – er - got some plans of his own."

"Well he can stall them!" Elita snapped. "Or at least give me some time. Does he not understand that I need to work out a contingency plan?"

"Yeah well maybe…" Moonracer could not for the life of her see Mirage having the slightest regard for this, or any other agenda that belonged to Elita. "There is this mech it seems," she said. "Some kind of tracker-type. It seems that Mirage has taken rather a fancy to him. I think it quite likely that…"

"You don't have to say any more," The femme leader's tone was icy. "I am well aware of Mirage's total inability to refrain from getting his end away. Well - you must capitalize on it Moonracer. You are to tell him to stall the Cons. That is an order!"

"Then I will have to take steps to get all this…" she gestured around, "out of sight. And - it may have to be over with Shockwave…"
Her voice had turned to a most melancholy tone, and Moonracer could not help but feel sorry for her. "I'll do my best," she said gently. "This is Mirage we're talking about. No promises."

Meanwhile back at the Autobot headquarters…

Hound awoke with a start. Confused images threaded through his processor, a tirade of lust and desperation, of betrayal and perverted attempts at persuasion, and not least of minibots with very big guns…

He sat up. He was, it seemed, back in a familiar berth – the one he shared with Trailbreaker.

A sharp ache in his lower regions, and more memories of the night's activity invaded Hound's thoughts. He vented heavily, recalling with shock his behavior after the Reflector incident, even as the memory sent fierce tingles rippling through his circuits.

He fought them down. He must stop being so weak! Other memories were a great deal more relevant to the Autobots. Memories such as: Mirage going to Cybertron. Mirage's 'explanation.' The clandestine references to contacts on Cybertron – and not least, Mirage's connections to Soundwave of all mechs…

And Mirage was an Alpha, used to throwing his weight around, to doing what he wanted. Even if he wasn't a traitor – and Hound found to his dismay, that however much logic rebelled, that this notion was still firmly lodged in his spark – who knew what the mech would do?

Let him go. It's his problem what happens to him…

"Yes – that's by far the most sensible thing!" Hound said out loud. Besides, it seemed that despite what Mirage said about Cliffjumper, he'd been very keen to go off to his berth. It had been more than a little - humiliating. Mirage deserved all he brought on himself.

Indeed – and there was only one thing that just had to be: Hound had to stay with his bondmate. He owed Trailbreaker a sincere apology - and a lot of make-up love.

But the place beside Hound was not even warm. The Tracker's spark ached with dismay. He'd assumed Trailbreaker would wait until he'd recharged – it wouldn't be long. Hound checked his chromo. His senses jolted. It was nearly midday!

Hound got up, immediately. He must find Trailbreaker! He must get back to the job of being a good, honest, ordinary Autobot.

In the washrack, as he doused away the last remnants of the night's revelries, Hound reaffirmed his views. If he'd had any doubts prior to Cliffjumper's arrival, he surely shouldn't have had any doubts after that; not after Mirage's appalling behavior at the canyon.

Mirage had appeared completely unperturbed. "It's all right sweetspark," he'd smiled at the minibot, whose face was set in the same kind of grimace it had worn the day he and Hound had first spotted the Decepticons, as dark as the sky in readiness of a storm.

"Hound was just testing these cuffs out. Weren't you Hound?"

And Hound, not exactly unintimidated by the sheer size of that gun pointing at him, had nodded.

"And he was just about to take them off. Is that not right Hound?"

And Hound had hesitated, had entertained thoughts of piping up no – you don't understand Cliffjumper. We might be dealing with a Decepticon spy here – or at least a mech who doesn't care a turborat's aft for the Autobot cause, and even if we're not then it really is better that I deal with this…

The weapon had clicked. /Just do it!/ Mirage had hissed.

Hound had removed the cuffs. Not only was there was no way the besotted minibot was going to believe even the remotest taint to his beloved's character, but Hound had felt suddenly exhausted. If this situation could be settled, then they could head back to base. He needed some recharge, the chance to think.

And Hound had enough on Mirage to make his life uncomfortable – if it came to that. If he couldn't persuade the Alphamech by other means how darned stupid his ideas were …

"There, see, sweetiepie?" Mirage had shaken his wrists free and held them up.

Gradually, Cliffjumper had lowered the gun. Then the Minibot had turned on the object of his adoration. "What have you been doing?" he'd demanded. "You've been out here all night!"

"Surveillance," Mirage had said smoothly, rubbing his wrists. "You know the protocol, sweetspark. Prowl doesn't like us conducting operations alone."

"But I thought you were a special exception?"

"Sweetspark…" Mirage had draped an arm around Cliffjumper, steering him to one side. "I am special. But I'm also trying to be a good Autobot!"

Hound had nearly retched. He'd not been sure what nauseated him the most – Mirage's blatant lies or the minibot's unquestioning devotion. "I was worried about you!" He heard Cliffjumper say, his voice all soft and soppy.

"Oh hun – you're such a treasure…" Mirage had drawled; and then he'd kissed Cliffjumper passionately, right there in front of Hound, right near where they'd just…

Hound could contain himself no longer. /You're despicable!/ He'd hissed. /And don't forget what I know!/

/Oh of course,/ Mirage had shot back. /But who's he going to believe? Now - I don't want him offside, Hound, and neither do you if you've got any sense./

/Besides…/ he paused to kiss his adorer some more, /I rather like making you jealous./

Hound had stopped himself from barging over there and grabbing Mirage from Cliffjumper, blurting out that they'd fragged all night - actually - and that that he was the one who knew Mirage's inner thoughts and workings, not Cliffjumper! The Alphamech was his…

He'd vented heavily, annoyed as much at himself as with Mirage. He not only was failing in his duty as an Autobot but he was now actually jealous! Of a minibot!

When Mirage had finally broken from the embrace, Cliffjumper had smirked, a picture of self satisfied one-up-mechship. As they'd rolled back, he'd jammed up next to the racer, making sure that Hound had to trail behind.

Then when they'd got to the Ark, Cliffjumper had dragged Mirage away – but not before another triumphant look. Mirage had shrugged. /Duty calls - I'll join you later…/ he'd drawled.

Seething, Hound had turned to see Trailbreaker standing in the other doorway. His anger had dissipated, his spark surging with affection. And Trailbreaker had simply looked him over. "I covered for you - you look done in. Come an' get some rest," was all he'd said; and Hound had felt overwhelmed with relief.

As he sank on to Trailbreaker's berth, Hound had truly believed that he could put what had happened behind him, return to the faithful, the familiar, and the one that he loved. The Mirage question could be addressed in an objective, Autobotly way; professionally, a way that was best for his faction – and for Cybertron.

Yes - Mirage's fate would depend simply on how well he cooperated, and was willing to show his loyalty – or at least behave like a sensible, rational mechanism.

"He needs to be pulled into line, told to behave like one of us or face time in the brig," Hound said out loud, now, reaffirming these thoughts as as he activated the dryer, turning this way and that and ignoring the pleasant ripples of sensation stirred by the blast of dry air into his seams.

"And I am going to see to it that this occurs. In the meantime, if he prefers Cliffjumper – that's fine!" When Cliffjumper eventually found out what Mirage was up to, then regardless of whether Mirage was in the brig or somehow on Cybertron, Cliffjumper would thank him and they'd be friends again.

The door hissed open. Hound emerged from the washrack just as Trailbreaker opened the door.

The dark blue mech was never a more welcome sight. "Trailbreaker …" Hound began.

But before his bondmate could reply, another mech entered behind him. Hound's spark gave a start. Carrying two rucksacks, the mech radiated calmness, and his own kind of power; one that Hound had always found quietly unnerving.

From beneath his visor, the mech gave Hound a friendly smile. "Hey, old buddy," Beachcomber said. "Been havin' a fun time?"

…..

"One more time!" Straddling Mirage, Cliffjumper ground his pelvis against Mirage's lower regions. Keen blue optics regarded him lustfully. "I need your spike now Mirage, I NEED it …"

"All right sweetspark. Now just let me get a teeny weeny bit of rest and then I'll be good as new."

Primus, Mirage was having trouble even staying online! That erotic interrogation from Hound (who would have believed it?) followed by that desperate final overload and then the tense scene with his two lovers had taken its toll. The drive home – in the shadow what lay ahead - had almost finished him completely.

Mirage had had enough left in him to manage a spiking once, grateful that the minibot in his deprived and charged up state had overloaded almost immediately. The minibot had then spiked him briefly, releasing again in a spectacular blast of crackling energy and hot fluid.

Mirage had tried to make a noise that sounded like pleasure – rather than the discomfort he'd felt in his overused valve even from Cliffjumper's comparatively meager appendage. He'd faked an overload. Cliffjumper had bought it; and that, Mirage had thought, had been – mercifully – that.

But Cliffjumper had not been satisfied. "All night I was without you 'Raj," he was wailing now. "I can't do without this any more. I need you again. You're so – amazing…"

"Yes, yes, I know I know …" Primus almighty. "But sweetie…" Mirage caught hold of Cliffjumper's hips, holding them still. Reaching up, he stroked Cliffjumper's helm. "What we did just now was… well – it was so good, I don't think I need anything else."

But Cliffjumper wasn't having it. He was sliding down Mirage. "I'm going to make you so hard you're going to hurt…"

His mouth roved over the ridge on Mirage's nosecone, his fingers curling on the windscreen. Mirage grimaced, shifting as the minibot moved on down, sucking at the base of the nosecone, his glossa swirling on the delicate metal. His fingers found an interface port and played over it, teasing at the edges of the cover.

Under other circumstances it would, in fact, have been most enjoyable – but as it was Mirage felt not a smidgen of arousal.

The minibot had reached his depressurized appendage. Mirage was aware of Cliffjumper's valve hot against his leg, of the minibot's spike sticking in above it. "You're such a tease, Mirage," Cliffjumper rasped, grinding as his glossa teased. "I know you're making me wait. But I know - you're - not - gonna - last - much - longer…."

I wouldn't count on it… Mirage made a few noises, hoping this would pacify the minibot.

It didn't; and it was just as Cliffjumper was starting to make sounds that were less of arousal and decidedly of annoyance, that Mirage's comm sounded. Splendid timing. The signal was weak, but its source clear: his sister Moonracer - on Cybertron.

"Sorry sweetspark - important call…" Mirage gently disentangled himself. He slid his legs over the side of the berth, aware that the minibot's expression had turned very less than amused.

And then, he was busy trying to decipher what Moonracer was saying amid the crackle and interference. "Three guesses who that is!" Cliffjumper burst out.

. …Elita…not happy…Cybertron…delay… Mirage caught before the comm cut out.

He clicked it off. Cliffjumper's expression had turned as black as thunder. "It was Hound, wasn't it?"?" he demanded. His optics flashed angrily.

"Nope! Under cover business," Mirage said airily.

"Bollocks!" the minibot yelled – an odd human expression. "I knew it! And I don't believe you were only working last night. That's why you can't do it!"

"Sweetspark…" Mirage began. But Cliffjumper was already flouncing from the berth. He fumbled furiously as he stowed his equipment away, armour clicking as he tightened it.

"Now Cliffjumper …" Mirage tried more firmly. Heck – it wasn't that he didn't want Cliffjumper any more at all – just not till he'd had a chance to recover from his other lover.

But the minibot turned on him, all red fury. "You needn't think you're really that important!" he cried. "As a matter of fact – I hooked up with somebody else last night! It was good – and I might just do it again!"

The door slammed. Minibot feet clanged away into the morning.

Mirage overcame a moment of incredulity. Cliffjumper had been unfaithful? And then, he laughed. Oh well, whoever the new love interest was, he'd certainly done Mirage a favour.

And with any luck, whoever it was would keep Cliffjumper occupied for a while now while Mirage caught up with his recharge. He needed it - before he planned the rest of his return to Cybertron; a most necessary agenda - especially if that opinionated glitch Elita was now in the equation.

…..

Trailbreaker was piling Beachcomber's paraphernalia into stacks. Hound saw bags and boxes filled with interesting looking devises and weird specimens – spoils from the outer quadrants, from Beachcomber's custodian role in the outer quadrant worlds. He'd always admired Beachcomber's dedication to his duties. But all that stuff? In here?

With a sinking spark, Hound suspected he knew the implications. But he refused to accept them. "I don't know about this," he tried to sound jovial. "What if there's a Code Red? I'll fall flat on my face getting out of here!"

"Hound…" Trailbreaker looked up. He regarded him solemnly. "I think you know the score."

So it was true. Hound sighed. "You're throwing me out, then?"

"It's not like that…"

Hound's thoughts were a mess. Guilt warred with outrage, even though he knew it wasn't reasonable. "No it's OK, I get it - I suppose Ratchet wasn't enough," he muttered, knowing he was a coghead for doing so.

Trailbreaker stopped what he was doing. "How can you say that!" His optics blazed and now emotion traversed the bond, a stark, raw wound that hitherto Trailbreaker had not let him see. Shocked, Hound wanted to cross to him, to gather him up, to make everything all right. Except that it was too late for that.

Trailbreaker shook his head. He resumed his stacking. "Comber's my friend, Hound. And that's all. Right now - I need him. I can't deal with…"

"I know." Hound let out a sigh. There was nothing more to say.

"You'd better start thinking how you're gonna deal with the situation," Trailbreaker muttered, "because you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into - and I can't help you."

But I do know. And suddenly, it was obvious, what Hound must do. He must confide in his bondmate – get a fresh perspective on Mirage's real raison d'etre. What wiser choice than good honest straight shooting, sensible Trailbreaker.

"Look, Breaker…" he began. "You might think that…"

But the door opened then, and Beachcomber appeared. He hesitated when he saw the pair; then smiled disarmingly. "Say!" he said. "This not a good time?"

"It's fine," Trailbreaker said before Hound could reply. I just need a quick refresh."

He disappeared into the washrack area and Hound's spark pained again. Trailbreaker, he realized, did not want to reveal his emotion.

Beachcomber cleared his throat. "We're helpin' Red Alert with control room duties this morning," he said conversationally. "Then Prowl wants Ravage brought up for some sunlight. Darned cat nearly howled the place down in the early hours. Hey – Hound - you wouldn't be able to…"

"I'll bring the cat out…" Hound murmured. He watched sorrowfully as his bondmate returned and gathered a few bits and pieces; then he was following Beachcomber out with not even a further glance. "Catch you later!" Beachcomber called back.

Hound felt desperation grip his spark. He had to do something. It was now or never.

/You know, I was going to say - with Mirage it's not all how it might appear to be!/ he blurted into the comm as their footsteps receded. /I have reason to believe he might not be as straight up Autobot as he makes out./

/Oh Hound – seriously – don't tell me you only just figured that out? Don't comm me again.../

And with that, the comm clicked off. With it, Hound felt the bond close also. His spark withered like Earth fruit on a dry vine. There was no doubt about it. He was up to his neck in this mess. As though tossed into a spacebridge, he had no choice but to go with the flow and make the best of wherever he landed.

….

Mirage did not recharge for long. Pleasant thoughts of Seekers with very ample apparatus were interrupted by clattering feet in the corridor outside. Autobotly yells of "Whoo!" and "Yeah!" accompanied the din.

Did they have to be so damnably enthusiastic? Mirage tried offlining his optics, but the racket continued.

He onlined his optics again, wincing as pain ripped up his backstrut. He squinted at the surroundings. He was still in Cliffjumper's berth! No wonder he felt like he was being crushed in a vice.

And no wonder the racket – there were no 'Bots that loved their daily training routine more than minibots.

Mirage needed to get out of here - now. Alighting from the berth, he gave himself a quick once over in the mirror, frowning at a dint in his left cheek that hadn't yet self repaired. Then he slipped out, activating the disruptor; just as well, for suddenly there were Gears and Brawn, right in the middle of the passage.

They were heading his way. Mirage flattened himself against the wall. Just before they got to him, they stopped, and Gears turned to Brawn.

"Well I gave Cliffjumper a good talking to," he growled. "And I hope that's the end of this nonsense. Seems Bumblebee came looking for him – and much as I've had a few things to say about that one in my time, he's one hell of an improvement on you know who."

Mirage was amazed. Bumblebee was the new love interest? He stifled a laugh. It could hardly be much hadn't even thought the other minibot had it in him!

"If I see that fancy aft sniffling around my minibots again…"

"I'm with you, Gears. Let's just say this time his face ain't gonna look so pretty." Brawn smacked his fist into the palm of his hand.

Mirage drew himself back to a near stick figure to let them past, pleased that he'd kept the shapeshifter program on standby too. Good Primus, they really didn't like him! He had no doubt that the yellow minibot meant exactly what he said.

Well, never mind - when he had some sway on Cybertron again, Mirage would provide some appeasement - get some traditional minibot territory recognized, or something. They'd soon forget about all this.

Right now, a nice hot shower seemed like the ticket. Followed by a little chat with the cat. Then if he had time, he might relax briefly in that little courtyard formed when the Ark went into the mountain, and meditate on his mission. At least it was warm and sunny there - hardly the hanging crystal gardens of Iacca Niara, but it was all right.

With this in mind, Mirage headed for his own, much more opulent quarters.

Hound sat balefully in the small courtyard, trying to figure out his life. How had things gone so downhill, so fast? When they'd been 'awakened,' he'd been so overjoyed to find that both he and Trailbreaker had survived…

And so full of life! Planet Earth with its teeming organic multitudes had acted like a tonic. In no time, four million years of de-activation had seemed not to matter at all. Trailbreaker had shared his joy, daring with him to venture out of the Ark and sample the new surroundings, so different and so inspiring.

They'd been relishing their renewed bond, their adoration of each other in this wonderful place – but all that had been swept away when Mirage sauntered into the mess that day. Hound had felt his very core respond – and Trailbreaker had felt it too. From then on, the conclusion was inevitable.

And look where it had gotten him! And yet Hound's loins tingled, even as he thought unhappily of the closed off bond. He still wanted Mirage. And he still wanted to stop the racer going on this idiotic trip to Cybertron.

Yes – and he wanted to talk Mirage out of it himself – without resorting to Prime, or Prowl, or Autobot brigs and methods of immobilsation. The thought of Mirage in spark stasis, his lithe and elegant form still and useless, was almost unbearable.

Hound knew the racer would be back. And he knew the thing with him was a lot stronger and more compelling than the thing with Cliffjumper. If necessary, Hound would use the same kind of methods as he used before…

Charge seared through the tracker, painful in its intensity. Hound got up, radiating heat, his armour suddenly too tight, a burning constraint on his exoskin. He was aware of Ravage springing up, watching with interest as he stood with one hand on the rocks, activating his fans, trying to retract the spike that now pushed against his codpiece.

Ravage watched him keenly, her tail twitching sporadically. It was almost as though she knew…

Hound had to do something. He was running as hot as he had been the time in the cave – and he could hardly do that in front of Ravage! Instead, he activated the hologram program, hurling energy into the image with as much force as he could muster, It sprang to life - a towering and frighteningly real looking version – of Megatron.

"Try that…" he said to the cat. She obliged, snarling loudly.

And as for him? At least the energy surge had taken the edge off.

By the time Mirage had arrived at the courtyard, impatience had settled into the high caste processor, the sort of irritation that happened when things took too long and Mirage was impeded by fools. Ravage was not in the basement. Perhaps she had gotten away – but if so, why hadn't she commed him and told him?

Annoyance turned to surprise, however, when he entered the courtyard and found not only Ravage, but - Megatron as well…?

In a flash, Mirage had weapons drawn – only to hear a deep chuckling. There, leaning against the rock wall, was the tracker.

Hound was apparently chuckling at the cat – and hadn't noticed Mirage's arrival. Mirage lowered his gun. Obviously, "Megatron" was a hologram – and Mirage couldn't help but be impressed at the likeness. He has many talents, he thought.

Mirage lingered in the doorway, studying his new lover. Despite his casual stance, Hound looked wonderfully pent up! Mirage felt charge ripple fiercely into his circuits all over again.

The cat glared at him. "Just as well!" she spat. "I have to look at that silver moron quite enough in the nemesis. Tell your beau to quit showing off."

Mirage was amused. /So you've met my tracker, then? Good, isn't he? Though I wouldn't talk out loud if I were you – he's smart. He'll figure it./

Hound turned. He saw Mirage and flushed. The hologram disappeared. Mirage gave a slow clap. "Nicely done," he said. "You nearly had me fooled."

"Yeah well…" Hound drew himself up. "It did fool Ravage. It's a good illustration of how Decepticons aren't even loyal to their own. You might take notice of that, Mirage!"

"It did not fool me!" Ravage snarled. "If he carries on like that…"

/Sshh!/ Mirage snapped.

Hound sauntered over. He was trying extremely hard to be 'tough.' Mirage rather liked it. Armour gleamed and shifted on the taught, well structured form, the stiffness in his walk failing absolutely to hide his need. A bunch of keys dangled from his waist, accentuating the swell of his obviously straining anatomy.

Mirage decided to make things more uncomfortable. Seating himself on a nearby rock ledge, he adopted a pose very similar to the one he'd used to seduce Hound at the canyon. "So..." he said. "Do you want to talk?"

"Hmmnn…" The cat paced up and down. /I must admit, he's a handsome specimen. And holographic capability would be very useful to the Decepticons…/

/He's not going to be a Decepticon!/ Mirage shot across. He wished she'd shut up. He wanted to concentrate on Hound, who turned away, obviously unable to restrain himself whilst still looking. He said nothing, and Mirage could almost feel the inner turmoil raging.

/Of course, we could do a deal,/ the cat went on, undeterred. /You get me out of here and I could put the word in…/

/I'm trying!/ Mirage snapped. /It may have escaped your notice, but he has the keys!/

The cat let out a low hiss. /He seems over sensitive. What did you do to him?/

It's more the case of what he did to me. But Mirage wasn't telling Ravage that.

Hound had turned around. He glanced at the cage for a moment, and then back at Mirage. "You're still going then?"

He was hard to read. Lustful yes, but what had he done whilst Mirage was with Cliffjumper? Had the bond-mate gotten to him? Had he told anyone anything?

Mirage didn't think that Hound had done either; nevertheless, under the tracker's piercing gaze he suddenly wished that instead of trying to screw Cliffjumper, he'd simply whisked Hound to his own berth.

Oh well, even I can't always get it right…

Mirage decided on a humerous, indirect approach. "Look Hound – think what we could do back on Cybertron…"

"You're not answering my question."

"I am! I was just thinking how you could holo me a two story house with a double garage!"

Hound considered that. He seemed to brighten. "You just gave me an idea!" he said. Hopping off the rock, he seemed about to disappear…

Except that he didn't. Instead, he crossed the courtyard quickly. Before Mirage could react, he was kissing him deeply.

Ravage howled, turning away. "Watch that cat – I'll be right back!" Hound said cheerfully as he broke the kiss - leaving Mirage uncharacteristically flustered.

"Now what's he up to?" Ravage hissed as the tracker strode out of the door. "And why didn't you get that key?"

"I really don't know," Mirage said, not sure of the answer to either. "But we'd better wait, and you'd better be prepared to move fast - just in case."

Even Ravage had not noticed the small red figure that had appeared in the doorway. Cliffjumper fled, just before Hound departed.