Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own The Transformers. I harass their giant robots for fun.

Warnings: I like using Google translate for language shifts…and I can barely get English right… I pick the language based on what it might sound like compared to Earth dialects. No offense meant by language choice or errors.

Also, Prowl is that guy in the theater you wanna sock.

"Breakaway"

Deadlock was neither a morning person, nor a night owl. Whenever he managed to wake, he was active.

This cycle found him far too giddy for this early joor and leaning over the snoozing triad of younglings.

The annoying one laid flat on his back, arms crossed against his chest in front of him. The Praxian was sprawled everywhere and the one with the visor had managed to curl up between the both, helm wedged in the green one's side and peds across the latter.

He beamed at Gasket. "Just like a box of flat-kits. They look so peaceful, don't they?"

He snorted.

"Want to do the honors?"

The half-steeljaw crawled over the younglings, selecting Jazz to lick. Each graze became toothier, until he had most of his arm down his gullet.

The Polyhexian woke with a scream, the other two with blows not meant for them.

"Rise and shine, bitlets, we survived the lunar joor!"

Jazz was occupied with cleaning canid drool off himself. "Why does he want to eat me so bad?"

"He's acquired a taste for sentient metal." Deadlock stretched lazily. "Don't know why, its horrible stuff, turns your tank something awful…even worse if it's not fresh."

The gunmech strolled out to the rear exit of the warehouse.

Lockdown frowned, gradually recovering from a sparkattack. "There's no way he could know that, unless— Taking mods is one thing, but he actually— Nah, he's joking… No one does that. Right?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Deadlock called back.

Prowl gave Jazz a sidelong look. "What did I tell you?"

"Shuddup."

"The guy is practically a Terrorcon." Judging by the strained tone in his vocalizer, the mods rustler was spooked. He had a right to be. The only thing worse than Predacons were the cannibalistic 'formers. It seemed Prowl had a gift for logic and activating people's critical thinking.

"I've met them, nice people." Deadlock added with a sinister grin, primary fangs curling over his derma. "Now are you going to come out or am I going to have to come in and get you?"

Now even Jazz was making a way to the front exit.

Gidget made a groaning noise and headbutted her alpha's shin.

"Okay, fine. It was a bad joke. Hurry up."

Prowl didn't believe a word he said, but he was their only hope of getting out of this wasteland alive. So, he followed: outside into dark as common for most parts of Cybertron, past the foxes they were warned not to touch, and to wherever the gunmech lead them next.

Converse to its start, the rest of their trip through The Ferrin Depths was uneventful, only cut by Deadlock's random bursts of conversation. The nice side of him seemed to enjoy their company and genuinely be concerned about their wellbeing. The other part wanted them gone.

So, they took turns fielding the gunmech's occasional mood swings. Prowl or Jazz handled the first side and Lockdown was more than willing to argue with the other.

This cycle they were several tics from being out of the wasteland. In the middle of telling some strange tale though, Deadlock slowed and let his pets out.

"Alright. Progress."

On the horizon, several other Transformers were approaching and he shifted to bipedal mode to wait.

"Who are they?"

"Terrorcons?"

His optics rolled, "Just shush, I need to take care of some business. Don't stare. Be nice."

The group that joined them were a mix of derelict mechs, Decepticons, and a few Predacons. Deadlock was completely at ease, waving the eight over.

The younglings couldn't understand a word of the ensuing conversation. Prowl caught a few snatches of Kaonite, excepting that the language was completely unfamiliar.

Packets, different weaponry, phials, and what looked like paint found their way out of subspace and traded servos, along with boxes scavenged from the semi. All while they continued in that same alien tongue, acting like old friends…

Bright orange optics soon locked with Prowl's own and an imposing saurian mech jostled his fellows before approaching him.

"Hey, la. W ap komik kap ..." ("Hey, there. You're funny looking ...") He knelt, sharp digits trailing over one doorwing and pulling it out to examine. "Guys, li te gen zèl men li pa ka vole!" ("Guys, it has wings but cannot fly!")

Prowl cringed away. "Why is he touching me?"

"Li nan paske—" ("It's because—") Deadlock frowned and started over, "It's because some Predas have a thing for doorwingers."

"What kind of thing?"

"They think your useless panels make you bèl –ackk what is the Cy-Stan glyph? Cute. He thinks you're cute. Sparkling cute, mind you."

"What's their word for stop groping me?"

He shrugged, "Hissing works."

Looking at the massive saurian 'former, Prowl decided against that.

Meanwhile, Jazz had been following the conversation, attempting a greeting as he scrunched his faceplates. "Alo."

The mechs erupted into laughter and continued.

A lynx-like 'former made, seeming to be the ringleader, made a rude snort. "Ou pa janm vini alantou ankò, pup. Where've ou te? " ("You never come around anymore, pup. Where've you been?")

"Okipe." ("Busy.")

"Kite sa yo monstr chwazi sou nan Helm pòv ou ..." ("Letting those monsters pick about in your poor helm…")

Deadlock waved him off. There were more important matters to close.

"Dyatrib li mouri. rena Plauge. " ("Tirade is dead. Plauge foxes.")

The shorter mech paused, then sneered.

"Pa ta dwe janm te kite yo ede ke yon moun opticed move lespri sou. Ki sa ki gen li te kite kounye a? Se pa boude, pa gen lavi." ("Should have never left to help that one opticed demon. What has he left now? No sulk, no life.")

"Ou te janm gen anyen bèl vle di, Bobtail?" ("Do you ever have anything nice to say, Bobtail?")

Bobtail did not.

Like most Predas, he was wary of vehicle modes. Occasionally, there were exceptions like himself and select members of Bobtail's pack. Like Tirade, he walked among vehicle modes and Predacons. Unlike the late mech, Deadlock didn't have the CNA to back him up. Some Predacons were willing to accept empty, low-caste, and Decepticon 'formers to ease business transactions. Still, even that trust had its limits. It was difficult convincing them to aid what they deemed "vehicle mode problems". A large group of Predas folded after learning it could improve their lives.

"Se konsa, sa nouvèl Sparkless Vag a genyen?" ("So what news does the Sparkless Wave have?")

"Megatronus gen yon demonstrasyon te planifye nan Praxus. Li te mande pou koperasyon ou ak sekrè." ("Megatronus has a demonstration planned in Praxus. He's asking for your cooperation and secrecy.")

"Kisa n'ap fè?" ("What are we doing?")

"Kòm Soundwave di Operation: Destriksyon." ("As Soundwave says Operation: Destruction.")

"Pa fè sa. Ou son grenpe, pup." ("Don't do that. You sound creepy, pup.") The mech shifted as he noted the visored youngling had flinched. "Li vle nou demantle yon antye vil-eta a, pa sèrvo? Jis ki jan anpil ap vini? " ("He wants us to raze a whole city-state, by servo? Just how many are coming?")

"Kòm anpil yo te vise sou pa pi wo-castes yo. Dwe prepare." ("As many have been

screwed over by the higher-castes. Be prepared.")

The lynx build leaned past Deadlock, feral yellow optics roving over the younglings, he raised an optical ridge. He knew one part of him wasn't kid friendly, so bringing them along wasn't the gunmech's doing.

"Ki sa li vle yo pou?" ("What does he want them for?")

"Ki jan mwen ta dwe konnen? Old anonim di few l 'ask mien ale." ("How should I know? Old faceless says do it and I go.")

Bobtail shrugged, gaze traveling back to the younglings.

"Kenbe yon optik sou yo. Yo ap toujou nan laj la pou reformatters sib yo." ("Keep an optic on them. They're still at the age for reformatters to target them.")

"Dakò." ("Okay.")

And just as quickly as they came the group was gone.

"So, who were they?" Lockdown challenged.

"Friends of friends. Some of Tirade's pack actually." He stowed the goods away in various pockets. "You kids want to go into town?"

"Really?"

"Yup. C'mere first."

Deadlock then took him by the arm and began to fiddle with the main junction at the base of his neckcables, much to Lockdown's dismay.

"Hold up, stop squirming!"

"Why me?"

"Because I hate you most. Now watch and learn, bitlets. See this grey thing I have? This is a chip, some'll disguise your form, this one here just changes your colors. Why do we need a color change?"

"To throw people off about where and who we are."

"Excellent, visor." Deadlock's own paint rippled pixelating into a cleaner, black and red paint job.

Prowl cocked his helm, "Why don't you visit a wash rack while we're there? You smell."

"Watch the way you speak to your elders."

"You smell, sir."

"Anyway, it takes more to mask yourself if you're a vehicle mode. I'm not washing off my camouflage. If you smell like your environment you can't be tracked as easily."

Jazz met the flat look the Praxian gave him with a comm. :: Okay, okay. I get it! ::

"That's gross, mech."

Deadlock ignored them. "Okay, you're free, change for us."

Lockdown ripped his arm free, paint rippling into a reversed job with black as the dominant color.

"You know there are a lot of other colors you can choose—"

"This is fine."

He threw up his servos and left the stubborn youngling alone.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Two joors later, Prowl was in a theater with a reversed paint job and incredulity seething from every vent.

"Seriously? He just tripped on air!"

Jazz rested his helm on the back of his seat with a deep groan. "Hush, Prowler."

That word wasn't in the Praxian's vocabulary right now.

"There was nothing there, how can you trip?"

"I dunno. Some people get tripped up when they're scared."

"It's lazy writing to kill off a character. Horror is a stupid subgroup."

"You wouldn't be talking if it were a real one, you'd be too scared." Lockdown hissed. "And it's sci-fi/horror, you lugnut."

"Then that makes it dumber."

The mech behind Deadlock kicked his seat. "Hey, down in front, shut up!"

He let out a fanged snarl that silenced him before glaring at the doorwinger.

"You know, in theaters people pay for quiet."

"And terrible quality entertainment. This is completely unrealistic!"

:: How have you not killed him yet? :: Deadlock growled.

:: Jazz is lazy. :: Lockdown sent.

:: It's jus not the right time… ::

He frowned at their conviction at what had been a joke. :: In my day, we didn't go after members of our own pack. ::

Lockdown raised an optic ridge, :: He's not pack, he's Jazz's latest job. ::

:: You mean… ::

The youngling sent a snapshot of splattered fuel energon.

:: Yup. ::

And the guy had no idea… Well, it was none of his business.

:: Not wise to play with your food. Wouldn't have counted you as the type for assassinations. ::

:: Not my style, not my job. They wouldn't see me coming though. ::

Before Deadlock could ask what he let slip, the youngling swatted his annoying seatmate.

"Shut up, people are trying to enjoy themselves. Turn your processor off!"

"The bloodstains are completely unrealistic!"

The gun mech paused, "Okay, I'll give you that, kid."

Jazz groaned and dug around in the packet in his lap, before stuffing a smooth treat into the other youngling's mouth.

"Mphh!"

"My thoughts exactly."

Deadlock rose lazily, "I'm bored. Gonna take a leak and find the pets. Try not to get mobbed while I'm gone?"

He got two affirmatives and one muffled hiss.

The treat stuck firmly to the roof of Prowl's mouth for a solid 30 kliks and it was obvious when it finally dissolved.

"The creature isn't dead, it comes back in the third act."

True enough, the organic mutant revived and the mini-bot femme behind them dumped her drink on Prowl's helm.

"Hey!"

"Nex 'ime yah learn 'ah shu' up, little doorwinger!"

"That's it…" Lockdown swung around, wet and sick of talking. "I can't get him to shut up, but I know I can silence you, midget."

The visored femme glared and her semi-hauler companion rose, knuckles releasing pressure, "Ah, so yah need us tah teach ya some manners, 'eh?"

Jazz and Prowl followed his lead, blocking the screen.

"You want to repeat that?"

Lockdown just registered a fist flying at his face before the world went askew.

~o~o~o~o~o~

A short klik later, they'd been kicked out and were currently roaming the streets.

"My face hurts."

"It should. It just got punched in by a semi."

"When are yah gonna learn the minis always have a big friend?"

"You two were supposed to be helping."

"Ah draw tha line at fighting femmes. They're mean."

Prowl shuddered, "Tell me about it."

"Yah should know it by now, Lock."

"Whatever." The green mechling went quiet, probably to soothe his bruised ego, and Jazz started muttering to himself, repeating basic Cy-Stan and giving the Predus equivalent.

"Not gonna work." Prowl mentioned.

"What?"

"You can't learn Predus like that. It's a spoken language. " He continued. "The dialect and words change from region to pack. And then there's the subliminal noises, gestures, and EM flares."

"But can they understand what you're saying if you know the basics?"

"Well…yes…"

"Sore dakede mondai wa arimasen." ("That's all that matters then.") Jazz chirped, pleased he knew that in Praxian.

"How come you two talk to each other so much?!" Lockdown snipped.

Jazz shrugged, "He only yells at me half the time. You jealous I got a new buddy?" he looped an arm around both mechs. "It's okay. You're still my favorite."

The green mech rumbled.

Prowl squirmed, attempting to escape with zero success. "Lockdown, what city are you from?"

"Hm?"

"You want to talk. Where are you from?"

"Obelisk."

"Family?"

"Too many."

"He's got all sisters, that how ah met him."

"You're a creep and a pervert, Jazz."

The Polyhexian snickered and retracted his visor, revealing bright blue optics. "He caught me across the optics with a pole and he broke the lenses. Had to wear a visor for a few orns and liked the way it looked. So ah owe yah that. Then we both got sent tah prison and got tah be roomies! That was when he stole my berth."

"I WAS THERE FIRST. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK HELM."

"Sure, but we can all get along, right?"

Lockdown snorted. :: What are you doing? ::

:: Roll with it. ::

He looked up only to see their circumstantial guardian taking a comm.

"There he is."

"He's really into that conversation."

"Aw, he's too far away… Wanna hear what they're talking about?"

Lockdown gave him a look, "You are so nosy. Yes."

Jazz pulled at one audio and linked them over comm.

:: Look Soundwave, I'm going as fast as I can. Get off my case. ::

:: You told them they would have time. Good tactic, but you don't. Get them to one location and wait. ::

:: So soon? ::

:: You've got more assignments, remember? ::

:: Whaddaya want with them, anyway? ::

Soundwave seemed to relent, opting for a persuasive tone.

:: Nothing harmful. I'm curious about one in particular. It will just a brief examination, maybe some convincing to join. Wouldn't want them to fall into the wrong servos. :: The gunmech's posture relaxed as he continued, :: Give them the opportunity you had Deadlock. ::

Prowl and Lockdown then noticed Jazz was shaking.

"What's with you?" the latter grunted.

"That—that's Soundwave on the other line…. They call him a demon, mech. He's on the blacklist, not someone you want to mess with. Spec. ops doesn't touch him."

"So? There's your higher-higher up for you waiting with open arms. Go join." Prowl urged, his tone oozing sarcasm.

If he heard, he didn't show it. "I don't wanna."

"What?"

"If he asked for us personally and you guys aren't there, I don't want to go."

Prowl frowned. He was scared. The pint-sized mechling that looked danger in the faceplate and asked it out was terrified of the spymaster.

"He used to work for the council and go by a different designation before he joined the 'Cons. I hear he can mess with your helm. I understood one thing that kitty Preda told Deadlock: look out for reformatters. They make you different on the inside and you're never you again. I think—he can do the same thing. I don't want to be a symbiote, guys."

Lockdown wasn't intimidated. They were here and the tentacle demon was in Kaon, in the opposite direction. It was a simple matter of evasion. As for Jazz's worries about being altered…

"Why would he make you a tiny sym? Shock troops are more valuable. Besides you know where symbiotes come from—"

Suddenly, the line fuzzed, doubtlessly from a routine scan.

:: Deadlock. Who else is on the line? ::

The mech lowered one servo and met the youngling's optics, his own turning an odd mix of black and red. Somewhere in there, there was pity, but it was rapidly vanishing.

"Sorry you had to hear that…"

One moment he was across the street, the next he was nearly on top of them.

That jarred Lockdown into action. "Go. GO! SPLIT UP!"

The elder two headed for a crowd and Jazz ducked into an empty square.

He nearly slid into a swirling, upright pool of blues and greens.

That sent him backing away in a hurry.

A ground bridge portal…with no containment arch. His armor resumed shivering. It had to be Soundwave, there was no other explanation. He skirted the wall and ran.

:: GUYS! ::

:: Get off the line, he knows! ::

:: He can control ground bridges! ::

The warning came just in time.

Prowl fell into the portal and he only just managed to get out again with Lockdown dragging him back. "No kidding."

"What now?"

The green mechling pulled him behind a stack of crates as Deadlock and Gasket went tearing by, the mech yelling into his comm.

"We keep moving and stay out of view. Stay out of their sight and any cameras."

This tactic seemed to work for a short while. Jazz managed to have gotten them off their tail. At least that's what they thought until Gidget cut them off.

The monochrome vixen trotted up deftly with head low and audios pinned back, much different from the amicable pet they'd come to know.

"Hey, um…nice foxy." Lockdown tried.

She snarled and let out a hunting cry, forcing them into an alley with high walls and no windows.

"Slag."

In no time at all, Gasket had also convened on the pair, herding Jazz in with them.

Prowl's wings met notched metal. "They want us in one place so all Soundwave has to do is suck us up."

Jazz checked the walls and nodded, "Find some hand holds and you two climb up. I'll be right there."

He was met with looks of bewilderment.

"Ah'll be fine, but cover your audios. Ahm bout tah get loud."

He turned to face the snarling pair and unfurled a set of speakers at the base of his shoulders.

"Hope yah like Tetrahex Thrash."

An amplified thrum that sounded like tortured screaming resonated down the alley he was trapped in, shattered any windows within a tick radius, and of course felled the canids.

Jazz scaled the wall and landed with a flourish as if nothing happened.

"You modified your siren." Prowl breathed.

"Yup, even the lights." He flashed them briefly, multi-colored light pulsating. "Going to yell?"

"I was going to say that was brilliant."

"Same here," Deadlock said, stepping out onto the roof.

A bridge spawned behind them and they were stuck between a Lock and a hard place.

"Look, I know you don't trust me, but just go. Odds are you'll be in a lot trouble if the Autobots get a hold of you. 'Wave's an aft, but he won't hurt you."

There was also no way they'd be allowed to leave after that.

Prowl noted the Polyhexian covertly slip a servo into a subspace pocket.

"Sorry…we said we're going to Iacon an we're going."

He then tossed a canister into the portal and— it dissipated.

Deadlock's optics narrowed and he pulled one blaster. "You three are more trouble than you're worth."

The trio jumped and folded into vehicle mode, taking their chances on the road verses alone in an alleyway.

As it turned out, it was just as hard trying to shake Deadlock there as well. It wasn't blatant with all the warrior class armor what build he'd been previously. One thing was certain: on a hunt, the guy was fast.

Finally, Lockdown spun out behind a restaurant signaling the group to halt.

"We're never going to outrun him."

"Then what do you want us to do?!"

Lockdown gave the Praxian a brief glance. Prowl transformed and climbed to perch on the edge of a dumpster. "He can't find us if he can't smell us."

"This is crazy…" Jazz panicked.

"He hangs out with wild mechanimals, Decepticons, and a tentacle demon. Is it really that unbelievable he can smell us?"

Lockdown tensed yanked them down into the filth, keeping a firm grip on their shoulders.
"Don't make a sound."

The gunmech was getting closer, but Lock didn't budge. He looked like he was focused on something far away from here. Then he was gone.

Jazz looked around, but only saw the dumpster. With another sweep, he realized couldn't even see himself.

Deadlock searched the area for a long joor, checking in the dumpster multiple times before giving up.

Considering last time, the younglings stayed put long into the lunar joor, then made their escape.

It was daylight by the time they made it to another, nearby city-state and found shelter on someone's back porch.

Lockdown was exhausted and crashed on the sofa, quickly joined by the other two on either side of him. Silence reigned until Prowl started making hissing noises.

"Yah okay over there?"

"No!" He burst into wild laughter, optics bright and animated, "That—that was actually fun!"

"See? There is life beyond tha pads."

"That was stellar, Lockdown."

"Nobody says stellar anymore." Jazz chided.

"Who did you steal that ability from?"

"I've always been able to do that," the green mech mumbled, "Soundwave's not the only one who's weird."

"You're an outlier?" Prowl sat up. "No slag?"

"Yeah."

"Wild."

"No one says that either."

"Then I think we have our team together." The Praxian grinned. "If we've made it this far and we can outpace a mercenary there's no stopping us."

Lockdown was more in recharge by now than alert. "We still don't have anything to trade to get credits for a ship, even the dumpy ones."

"Well, we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way then." Jazz put in.

"Oh no."

"What?" Prowl asked.

"He's gonna sing for credits."

"Yah know I'm awesome. We get jobs along the way, save up for a ship, and we'll go to Iacon to get off planet."

"I'm coming with then." Prowl nodded.

"Oh?"

"I still want to stop off in Praxus, but, there's nowhere else to go. I'll come with you."

The other two shared a glance and Jazz grinned. "Alrighty then. Go team."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Deadlock made it back to his pets a few klicks after he'd given up. Gasket and Gidget quickly crawled into his cab, audios still ringing, no doubt.

The steeljaw whined and helm butted his seats.

He sent a comforting pulse to them. "Not your fault, we'll have a good hunt next time."

Before he could do much else the irritating ping of a comm. sounded.

:: I assume you've collected your pack? ::

:: Yeah, the one with the visor has a loud stereo— ::

:: Do you have the younglings? ::

:: No. They got away. Did you not see that grenade? ::

:: Deadlock. ::

:: Don't 'Deadlock' me. I tell you not to comm. me in the field! Now are you going to send a bridge or not? ::

:: We'll discuss this at the base. ::

He snarled at the quickly severed line and turned attention back to the shell-shocked canids in his cab.

"Like scrap we will."

Predus= Haitian Creole

Praxian= Japanese

And yes, that thing with Lockdown is cannon…sort of… It's complicated, but then again, what in Transformers isn't?

TFwiki says Lockdown has cloaking ability that shorts out in the rain. It was never used officially, but come on.Even if it wasn't, as many upgrades he had on the show you know he has something like that. Despite him freaking me out in TFA, I am starting to like this guy.

Next up, flashbacks and light conversation in a Decepticon breakroom.

Also, thank you for feedback and reading! (gives thumbs up)