Nature of the Beast

One-Shot Series: Tcsovan Niv A'anoth

Part 10: Side Effects

*Did some reading into Nebulon and Hydrus Four and came across the substance known as Nucleon. Apparently it's a kind of performance enhancing drug and/or miracle curative with some pretty disastrous side-effects like the loss of transformation and eventual painful death if used constantly, and side effects are never the same between two Cybertronians. Going by that info, here's another case file for you guys. Enjoy!

Warning: Teeny tiny bit suggestive at parts. Hey, this is crime. And Kaon. I: Also, this is more based off the style of the TV crime drama "Castle" rather than an Agatha Christie novel. S'why it's a teeny bit more suggestive. I sort of based Lowrider on the main character, Richard Castle. xD He's a shameless flirt but he's also hilariously creative.

*I imagine the Enforcer at the start here would look a bit like Killer Croc from "The Batman" animated series from I think it was 2004. I loved their design for Croc in that one, and the design fits with a Cybertronian pseudo-beast.

Also, meet yet another OC: Commander Corpselight of Kaon's 7th precinct. Fun little note: a "corpselight" or "corpse lantern" is another name for a will-the-wisp. As chief of a precinct in Kaon, he leads his officers down the "right" path. In the case of crooked cops or figures, he leads them into a trap down a "false" road. Will-o-the-wisps are known for being mischievous in good or bad ways. :)

In Kaon's southwest quadrant, a veiled shadow stalked the dark byways. Two figures were ahead of it, only one in the shadow's line of sight. The other figure was farther ahead, having rounded a corner into another alley. If the one the shadow followed possessed the ability to see it, had even known the shadow was there, they would have not only recognized the lurking figure but described its movements as nearly feline. It did not walk – it slunk, almost with a dance-like step, producing hardly any noise. Only a Predacon could have heard the faint taps of the shadow's pedes on the metal ground, and only a Predacon would have noticed in an instant the peculiar set of mannerisms and behaviors as hunting.

Because that was what She was doing: hunting.

She had, while prowling the skies and rooftops, picked up terrified mumbling from close at hand. She thus had found an unusual mech colored red and purple who bore an unusual frame design much like a terrestrial crustacean. She faintly recognized him as an informant for the Council, someone who had a habit of knowing everyone's business. A quick scan of the area and found someone plainly pursuing the informer: an Enforcer. They were only ever sent out to deal with the Council's more "sensitive" problems.

She slowed Her pace further as the large, heavily-armored Enforcer slowed his own. Quiet as She could be when on the hunt it would not do to let him get suspicious. This Enforcer was a pseudo-beast after all – a mech with a distinct reptilian design to him, one with large fangs and a tail. Some manner of Reptoid, clearly. His hearing might be better than a regular mech's. She had no cause to worry about her field alerting him, weak and contained as it was. She did have to applaud that dubious Senator Contrail for an appropriate choice to track down his target. She did not know the mech's name, nor did She care to learn it. He was threatening someone and would possibly hurt the individual, so before long he would be at Her pedes, bleeding his life out. Even if the one he was chasing was not exactly trustworthy, he was innocent. There was a difference between a blackmailer and someone who was simply indiscreet. Then again, people who were indiscreet had an unfortunate habit of being less than honest anyway. But the Enforcer's target this time had simply been indiscreet from the sounds of it. There had been no dishonest intent. So that meant he was under Her protection.

And the idiot Enforcer was going chasing the loose-lipped side-walker deeper and deeper into Her territory. She almost smirked. It was too easy. Like many not of Kaon he believed Her to be nothing more than an urban legend or a particularly dangerous rumor. He had no cause to fear for his life, no cause to fear a "vengeful spark back from the Void." Pah. He very soon would be fearing for it. Very soon. She would see to that.

The Enforcer paused at an intersection of four alleyways, checking for a signal on his single-optic visor. He smirked himself on finding it down one of them. She knew why: that alley was a dead end, and the alleys all around contained small businesses like off-the-radar clinics and the like. At this hour of the night those business saw very little traffic and were shut down. No one would see him do what needed to be done. But what he didn't realize was that no one would see Her do what needed to be done either.

"Come on, Clampdown. I'm not gonna kill ya. Just need to teach ya a lesson 'bout keepin' your mouth shut 'bout confidential matters, see."

While intelligent sounding the Reptoid spoke rather like a hired thug would. It nearly made Her growl and give away Her position. These types of Enforcers were the worst type. They were barely a step up from mercenaries. That a civil body like the High Council was employing mercenaries to "keep the peace" and "maintain order" was hypocritical and frustrating in the extreme. This spoke even more blatantly of the ethically grey and black Contrail. Star Saber might be involved, but he did not trust those who bore even a faint likeness to a beast.

He stepped into the alley, unaware his faint, moonlight crafted shadow now contained another.

"I-I didn't mean to let that info slip, Discharge! Please, I'll do whatever you want – just don't hurt me!"

She followed the Enforcer further. Ahead of them, backed up against a wall and trembling from fear was an odd mech who resembled some variety of terrestrial crustacean, his two large pincer-limbs held up against his faceplates to block the blows he knew would fall. "Clampdown" the Enforcer had called him. She had heard that name whispered in connection with the Council a few times; he was some kind of informant if memory served Her, someone who made it their business to know everyone else's business as intimately as possible. He wasn't the most honest individual in the world but he did seem to be the relatively harmless sort. Her mouth twisted into a frown.

No one threatened a smaller, weaker opponent in her Her city. No one beat a smaller, weaker opponent in Her city.

She snuck as close as She dared, raised the scythe...and swung.

Clampdown let out a terrified shriek as the Enforcer's neck jerked to the side and split open, fresh fuel spurting from the wound. Gurgling, Discharge fell to the ground. She watched him struggle, unseen. At last he went still, optics dimming. Clampdown remained where he was, stunned speechless. His vocalizer kicked back into gear almost instantly:

"Thank you! Thank you, Night Lady!" he said emphatically, practically kneeling, "I-I'll repay your kindness one day, I-I promise! You ever need help finding someone, come find me! I-I'll help you find whoever you need! I swear!"

She was unmoved by the mech's thanks. She turned to leave.

Then, unexpectedly, the world began to tremble back and forth around Her.

"Miss? Miss, are ye alright? Miss!"

The black Seeker jolted out of her nightmare with a gasp that was very nearly a shriek. Her wild, terrified yellow optics glanced around in confused fear. They instantly fell on a familiar frame and faceplate.

She found Camber bending over her with a worried expression, her hand on Sentenza's arm from where she'd shaken her out of power down. The mere sight of the maternal lessor served to remove a good portion of the fear, but it did not remove it all. She gave a shaky sigh and massaged her temples with one hand, shivering. Primus, the image of that dead Enforcer was practically seared into her processor. This was the tenth night-terror since it had happened, and it had been nearly six whole lunar cycles since then. She'd done other things since that particular attack, like shutting down a ring of weapon smugglers, but that one kept on recurring with fatal persistence.

'I know what I did was wrong. Just stop tormenting me about it!' It was all she could not to break down crying. That would only worry Camber more.

"Miss, are ye alright? I came up 'ere and found ye suffering a night-terror from the look of it," Camber said. "Are ye alright now? Ye feel as if ye've got a chill. Yer freezing, miss!"

She shook her helm in denial, still massaging her temporal plating. She sighed: "It's fine. I-I'm fine, Cam. Really."

Camber looked far from convinced, deep skepticism in her gaze. The black Seeker, verbally deny it as she might try, could not disguise how haggard and scared she looked. That night-terror must not've been pretty – o' course, not that they ever were, but this one must've been a real bad one if it could rattle a hardened detective like her. Her career meant she'd seen some pretty nasty things, after all. And what in Primus's name was going on with the cold-to-the-touch mesh? A Cybertronian was never cold to the touch unless they were offline or just gotten back from a sub-zero environment, no matter if they'd nearly had the spark scared out of them. The Seeker wasn't dead nor had she been anywhere that cold that she knew of – Pit, she was there right in front of her very much alive!

The older femme removed her hand and made her way with a bit of hurry to a seat where a thermal blanket was draped messily over the back. Privately she wondered at this, as the Seeker always made an attempt at neatness. She also wondered why she would lie and say she was fine when she plain as the sun wasn't. Was it a desire not to worry her? Or something else? The Seeker was enigma she wanted solved, but at the same time she didn't want to nose into her business too much. Old gossip though she was, she respected the Seeker too much for that sort of thing. Shaking her helm a little to disperse these thoughts the older femme draped the thermal blanket over Sentenza. She seemed thankful for the sudden increase in temperature.

But Camber did not leave the room. She was worried about the Seeker. In her opinion she needed to see a medic about that chill. That wasn't normal. Could mean she wasn't processing Energon properly, or else something might be amiss with her cooling and heating systems.

"...Are ye alright, miss?" she asked again.

She was surprised when Sentenza huddled up and refused to meet her optics.

"No."

"Ye want te...talk about it?"

Sentenza shivered and answered again: "No."

Neither of them spoke for a time. Camber went about tidying up a few odds and ends lying around the various rooms. Sentenza did not move. She appeared almost listless to the other femme. She still looked afraid though. Camber had to wonder what the night-terror had been about. She'd heard a few other tenants report shrieks of fear coming from this floor in the middle of the night or in the wee hours of the morning – and it had only started about five lunar cycles ago judging by her logs. There had been a few reports before that, but they'd been much sparser. And those wounds she came back with sometimes in her younger years, too. Sentenza had never explained who or what had inflicted them. Some she wouldn't let Camber patch up, insisting she "tidy up herself." She always said she'd "just gotten sloppy." It didn't happen much anymore, though she'd still come in to see her wiping Energon off her frame. She had always assumed Thunderhoof's goons but...what if there was more to it than that?

Sentenza's own thoughts were much more fearful, less speculative. She remembered the one outing with Counterforce. His words rang in her helm:

"Even a little help can go a long ways – but you have to put your fear and pride aside to accept that help."

She sighed. Damn that mech and his honest wisdom. She didn't want to involve her lessor. That would just put her in even more danger than she already was in, no matter how indirectly she might be associated with her activities. But – agh! Slag him to the deepest corners of the Pit! He was right. Hiding her double nature from the femme who housed her (even though she'd managed it for a very long time now with flying colors) would only result in further complications. And in any case, Camber might eventually find out anyways. Gossips tended to be naturally suspicious. Better to put her straight from the get-go than have her find her in a comprising position one night and have her assume wrongly.

"Cam? I-I need to tell you something."

Camber turned an inquisitive gaze on the Seeker, but before she could get her thoughts out into the air there came the sound of pedes pounding. Sentenza's practiced audials surmised maybe two individuals with a barely possible third. One about medium in weight. The second was quite heavy, suggesting a powerfully built individual. The final one was so light in their step she could hear it only just. Mini-con maybe? Or some small beast-former? It was so light she nearly dismissed it as an echo. But the pattern against the others suggested it was the primary source of the sound, not secondary. If it was a mini-con she was curious as to why it wasn't with its Deployer. Only rarely did you find one by its lonesome.

"Looks like yer about te 'ave company, miss. Want me te clear out?"

She shook her helm. "No, no. Y-You can stay."

The older femme nodded. Some solar cycles she'd let her hang around when someone called on her help, other solar cycles she wouldn't. It all depended on subject matter and who exactly was gracing her with a visit. Some of her contacts tended to be from, er, shadier backgrounds. Thastels and thieves for example. Obviously she thought these visitors were safe for her to meet.

The doors to her apartment slid open to permit three individuals. Two were individuals from the seventh precinct she readily recognized: Lowrider and Highbeam. One was a security officer and analyst for the precinct and the other was a young officer. What really caught her attention was a little mini-con mech at their pedes who had distinctly Draconian features. She'd never seen him before. If he was a Predacon of some kind he was the smallest Draconian she'd ever laid optics on.

"Sorry for bustin' in ye like this," Highbeam apologized quickly on noting the thermal blanket half-covering her, "But this little guy 'ere came to our door, baffled the docs on site, and so I figured we might as well come 'round to you. Thought you could help us solve this little problem he brought with 'im."

The mech gave a yelp of surprise when the mini-con punched his leg impatiently. Sentenza was curious as to why he didn't simply just speak. Some she knew could only communicate in auditory binary but she understood that fairly well. It wasn't that hard of a language to grasp, far simpler than Predacon. Was he mute perhaps? Such things did happen. Cheetor's Leoproid brother Dapplehide was one such example. His vocalizer had been damaged as a sparkling by scraplets, rendering it useless.

"Ah. T-This is Snapdragon by the way," He gestured at the little mini-con. "Go on. Tell her what you told us. And seriously, mech – mind your manners with her."

Snapdragon darted over to the low table in the living area, snatched a data pad off its surface and frantically began to input cyberglyphs into. It took him about a breem or so to get it all typed out for her to read. Finished, he handed it to her and began impatiently tapping his little pedes as she read the missive:

Long story short: I bought a case of Nucleon off a dealer a couple solar cycles ago. Wanted a bit of a kick before hitting the town to look for a little femme to keep company. At first it worked out just fine. Stuff's a great performance enhancer. I online this morning and suddenly I can't talk or transform. Thought it might be temporary, so I waited a solar cycle. When it didn't correct itself I tried to contact the dealer and demand a refund. No answer. Went to look for him in the place I met him. No one showed. I want you to find this scraplet for me, jail him, and get my credits back so I can get a Hyrdus Four healer to fix this. Those guys aren't cheap.

Sentenza's slender brow ridges rose, her yellow optics glancing down at Snapdragon. Nucleon was a banned substance due to its dangerous side-effects, but it had quite a few below-the-radar distributors thanks to gangs. It was often purchased by athletes, some not-so-scrupulous medical practitioners, and by 'bots looking to impress someone. That there was a dealer out there supplying mechs and femmes with it was irritating in the extreme. If there was one thing she despised more than murderers it was drug dealers, because what they did was far worse – not only were some drugs lethal, the drugs themselves enslaved the user. Her semi-dependency on medical-grade sedatives to keep the Demon in check on bad nights was a good if unfortunate example. Once she'd started using them it was difficult to get out of the habit because it worked so well.

"Sounds straight forward enough. You do realize I might have to arrest you as well for buying it in the first place."

Snapdragon snatched the datapad from her abruptly and typed in some more words:

Don't slaggin' care. Just get that scraplet off the streets and get me my creds back. I'll gladly let you cuff me once he's in a cell. Tit for tat.

Camber's optics narrowed at what she interpreted as a badly concealed pick-up line. With no tone to go on there was no way to tell whether or not he meant that seriously or suggestively. She told the mini-con to watch himself in front of Sentenza. Lowrider however was smiling to himself in a pleased manner.

"I could totally work that into a pick-up line," he admitted amusedly, "That'll totally get the femmes after me at Surreptitious. They love that sort of bad cop motif. I'll have the girls eating out of my hands in breems."

Highbeam promptly smacked him upside the helm and told him to watch his subject matter. They were in front of a femme right now, two of them actually. He could save that sort of suggestive talk till he was there. Camber looked absolutely dumbstruck at the security officer. He didn't seriously frequent that place, did he? That was something no good cop should be doing.

"If the missus weren't 'ere I'd box your audials for that sort of actin'!" Camber hissed. "And ye get the nerve to call yerself a cop! Load of refuse!"

"Now, now, sweetspark. No need to get riled up. I don't frequent it. I just drop by after a particularly grueling day of work. Great way to relax and forget about life for a while. You should try it sometimes, Sen'za. If you can't find a mech to go with I'll happily escort you. Always best to have a guide who knows his way around..." He winked suggestively.

Sentenza smiled indulgently: "Sorry, sweetie. Tempting as that sounds, I'm already seeing someone else right now. Maybe another time."

Lowrider looked so disappointed that she very nearly laughed. Camber on the other hand looked to be astroseconds away from dragging the mech out of the room by his audials. The sheer nerve of this mech, suggesting this sort of thing to her tenant with her present! She snapped at the mech:

"I'm surprised you still 'ave your job!"

Lowrider flashed the older femme a debonair smile and promptly ignored her in favor of the Seeker: "Why must you keep breaking my spark like this?" he sighed.

Highbeam once more smacked him upside the helm and told him to just drop it. Someone like him should be lady-smart enough to know when said lady was not interested. He did not tell him that, beautifully alluring as the Seeker was (even he admitted that) he was getting a strange vibe from her that warned them to keep their distance. He'd gotten it a few times on visiting her. There was also a chill in the air of the apartment that was making his mesh tingle ever so slightly that Lowrider seemed oblivious to. Something wasn't right in this place. He'd felt it a couple times before.

"Alright. I'll take the job. Usual pay for a drug-related case is three hundred credits."

Snapdragon took the data pad once more.

Done.

He fished into a small subspace pocket and brought out a handful of three small shimmering tokens colored pale green. Each bore the crest of the High Council and was worth one hundred credits each. Sentenza took them, a little surprised at such prompt pay. Upper class little mech it seemed. He had credits. Judging by his bestial appearance and the way he wrote she hazard he might be a Tagan. Pseudo-beasts had no problem over there and some had gotten quite high on the social ladder. He just didn't appreciate being ripped off by a dealer. Then again, in her mind, anyone who purchased such a dangerous substance was going to regret it in some way. Nucleon was banned for a reason. It could be helpful in a pinch or fun for a while but it was dangerous. End of story.

"Thank you. I'll get started right away. Give me a little while and I'll pay a visit to you boys at the seventh to get the full story. I won't bother Snapdragon and have him write down everything a second time. Pretty tedious. I'm assuming he did? He just gave me the short version to save time?"

"Fine by me," said Highbeam. "Everything's waiting for you at the seventh. Thanks for lendin' us a 'elping 'and, Sen. Owe you one."

"No, it's fine. Honestly," she assured him, "Was looking for an excuse to get back out in the field."

Snapdragon left after putting the data pad back. Highbeam apologized again and he too left. Lowrider tried once more to entice her with an offer only for Camber to grab his right audial and start dragging him out in a whirl of indignant propriety. The older femme hauled him to the threshold with strength that rather belied her extended age and old frame, snarling a warning to mind his manners around upright femmes like the good detective. If he tried that sort of behavior again with her around he'd give him a message he wouldn't soon forget!

"Alright, alright. Primus. I'm goin'," Lowrider grumbled, massaging his sore audial, "Can you blame a mech for trying?" He poked his helm to one side to look at the Seeker within. "Hey, Sen'za! Mind me askin' who's the lucky mech?"

"OUT!"

Lowrider bade a hasty retreat down the hall. Camber sighed and shook her helm exasperatedly as the door hissed shut and she returned to the Seeker's side.

"The nerve of that mech, askin' ye such questions! I've 'alf a mind te report 'im to 'is superior!" she huffed.

Sentenza laughed a little. "He's harmless, Cam. Really. A bad flirt and a bit of a femminizer but he really doesn't mean any harm. He was just teasing me, that's all. He does it all the time. Nothing ever happens."

Some of the older femme's indignation died down, her propriety thus reassured. She picked up the tablet and read through the mini-con's missives. She remembered that Sentenza dealt with drug-related cases quite often but if memory served her this was the first Nucleon case she'd had for quite some time. The last one had been, oh, many, many groons ago. Council was very strict in keeping the substance off the street but they couldn't oversee everyone everywhere. Rebellious youth got a little crazy. Medics got experimental. Undesirables found a network or a means of creating dangerous substitutes and then distributing it. Corruption set in on the government. Things slipped past them.

"Ye don't think ol' Hoof's involved do ye, miss?" she wondered, eyeing the Seeker quizzically, "Thunderhoof might very well try te get Nucleon into 'is distribution ring. I wouldn't put it past 'im. Stuff's expensive as the Pit t'acquire or make but it also sells for a hefty price as well. Upper class youth or adults are the main buyers due te its price tag, I believe. S'what I've heard."

Sentenza put the thermal blanket aside and rose, taking the data pad from her lessor to skim through it herself. She did not answer right away.

"I dunno," she admitted honestly, "He might give it a try. He could really turn a profit from the stuff. But remember, Cam: Nucleon is not only dangerous, it can also result in termination. Thallium pearls do the same thing but they're pretty easy to acquire, and so long as you don't overdose on 'em it's basically safe. Thallium's very addictive to boot, meaning a steady supply of credits. If 'Hoof is afraid of losing too many buyers from Nucleon he might not bother. He'd stop turning a profit if his buyers started offing left and right. He's careful that way. Criminal but a good business sense. This could be some small-time dealer we've got here. It might even be one of his lackeys trying to get past his pay grade."

The Seeker stashed the data pad, gathered a few of her things into a small kit, and headed for the door. Just as she was about to leave she felt her lessor put a hand on her arm. She turned to see the older femme with worry in her old optics.

"Please be careful, miss."

Sentenza offered a small smile.

"I always am."

Camber gave her a skeptical arched brow ridge. Sentenza's Predacon yellow optics rolled.

"Okay. Safer than I used to be when I was younger. You're not gonna hear or read a news article about some random 'bot finding my dead chassis somewhere, alright? And I'll try to come home with minimal injuries if I get in a spot of trouble."

The arm was released, and the Seeker made her way out. Camber watched her black and red form until it reached a lift further down the hall. Her form stepped in, then she saw her no more. Camber thus returned to the room's safety and began tidying up some things her tenant had left lying around. Brilliant as the Seeker was in crime solving, her quarters could get a little untidy since she was so busy elsewhere most of the time. So she took it on herself to help keep the place organized for her. She began humming an old tune from before the War as she worked.

Unconsciously her mind began to question once more what the Seeker's night-terror had been about...and whether or not she needed to go see a psychologist.

She could still see in her mind's optic the Seeker's wildly frightened expression, could hear her terrified shriek of fear, could feel her hands reaching out wildly even as she seemed to want to run – run as far away as possible. She shivered a little in remembrance.

What had caused that?

'And what had it been about?' she asked herself.

KAON'S SEVENTH PRECINCT

Something fwumped against her from behind as she strode down the main hall. She turned to find Dropout hovering there in bird form, optics glittering in their usual lively yet casual way. One talon was held up for her to meet. Smiling, she tapped the taloned limb in what the humans called a high-five. Dropout let out a musical tone and swirled around her. She was a little surprised to see the Avioid here. Her smile turned more mischievous.

"Dropout," she said playfully, one hand on her hip an brow ridge arched, "You didn't get in trouble, did you?"

The Avioid let out a rolling squawking sound that was plainly laughter.

*Nah! Actually some punk broke into our joint, nabbed some of our stock and had some fun with paint. Just came in to file a report. Happens every so often when a kid has a little too much in his systems. No biggie. And before ya ask, no – no anti-Predacon stuff. Silly stuff really. "Yer mother's a washing machine!" Stuff wasn't even spelled right. We'd let it go with a laugh but Blaster convinced us to call it in just to make sure the kid ain't encouraged to try again. So whatcha doin' here, Black Bird? Hot on another case?*

"Yep. Druggie case. Nucleon."

He made a face at her as he said: *Yeck! Only a total loony would go buyin' that stuff. Too many side effects. I'll take Thallium over that stuff any cycle. Well, g'luck to ya. I gotta get back before poor 'Beat gets overworked. Been busy lately at the club. No major incidents. Good sign. Maybe the Council'l start seein' that beasts ain't so bad.*

With a flap of his metal wings he flew off. Shaking her helm she kept heading for the office of Chief Corpselight. While no Commander Aegis, she liked Corpselight a little better due to his being a little less militaristic in his manner and a lot more of a liberal interpreter of certain laws. That was why he liked getting her on cases covered by his precinct as often as possible. He knew she wasn't afraid to bend the rules to solve a case. Not that she didn't like Counterforce's superior, she just didn't like that they obeyed protocol more often. Too strict for her. They were more rule-abiding. She liked being more or less free to do what she wanted. Many of Kaon's precincts understood that.

She found the office. Not even bothering to knock, she strode in when they hissed open to permit her. Corpselight himself was a big mech colored black and grey with glowing purple accents. He was coated in heavy armor and possessed the alternative form of a hefty tank, and the tank's main gun poked up from one shoulder while a dozen smaller blasters pock-marked his entire frame. On one shoulder was the grim Decepticon crest. The big, burly mech looked up when she entered, his red optics appraising her with approval.

"Ah. There you are. Was wondering when you'd show up, detective," said Corpselight. A mischievous little smile formed and he asked: "Lowrider didn't give you any problems, did he? Highbeam said your good lessor tossed him out by audials, and good riddance. Everyone knows you're quite the looker but I think he needs to be a bit more tactful in his deliveries, eh?"

She laughed in her dry manner: "Oh, he tried alright. Turned him down. Again."

Corpselight smacked a hand on his leg and gave a ringing bark of a laugh. "Ha! What's this, the twentieth time you've broken that poor dolt's spark? Gotta give the scraplet credit for determination!"

They shared a laugh.

"Well, that aside – what do you think of our little problem? Too simple for you? Already know who the dealer is?"

She shook her helm, saying: "On the contrary. Nucleon dealers tend to be the careful sort. They know well enough the stuff's illegal and dangerous as the Pit so they'll try to avoid trouble. That means they'll be well below the radar of even the shadiest crook, and why the dealers themselves are simply referred to as 'sveltoks' on the street. They never meet in the mesh. They arrange drop-offs instead. Identifying a sveltok is no easy feat because of that. All you really have to go off of are old scents and anonymous, voice-less data bursts."

Corpselight nodded. "Hubcap, Highbeam, Lowrider, our toxicologist Elixar, and a Predacon tracker are in charge of this problem. You'll coordinate with them."

"Who's the Pred?"

"Chimeran by name of Hun-Gurr. One of Predaking's boys. Voracious appetite but a good tracker so he assures. He's helped our friends in the fifth once or twice in the past. So long as you keep his tanks full he's happy to help. Bit mercenary that way but what will you? His boss gave us some scraplets and razorsnakes his tribe got to keep his appetite sated. If we run out before the case is done he'll give us some more. We should only need him for tracking at the drop-off site though, or any place related to it. Rather not have the guy try to gulp down one of my minis."

"Right. Snapdragon's here?"

"In with Elixar. If you need the full report he gave her earlier I've got it right here." He handed her a data pad.

She took it. The Seeker only gave it a quick glance. She could pursue it in depth a little later. Always best to start broad, then narrow things down.

"Thank you. I'll go pay the boys and your good zhectla a visit, get any little tidbits from them, and get right to it."

"I'll leave you to it, then. I expect this scraplet in cuffs and in a cell by the time this over. Don't disappoint me."

She smiled: "Now come on. When have I ever failed to deliver the goods to you, Herr Kommandant?" She offered a playful salute, hip to one side.

Corpselight chuckled raucously and waved her out, she giving him one last playful salute. It was true. He couldn't recall any instance where the Seeker had failed on a job concerning his precinct, not counting cold cases of course. Cold cases were usually transferred over to Praxian or Iaconian precincts. She was always very thorough in whatever case she decided to look into or was requested to help with. That was what he liked about her. That femme had true Kaonian stubbornness in her.

Lowrider stood at his kiosk sifting through a massive list of first-time and repeat dealers. He was searching for ones that had sold anything more dangerous than Thallium in the past. Nucleon was hard to acquire and the artificial kind was hard to make, so only three popped up with those algorithms. The Thallium Only algorithm bore more results. Unfortunately, too many. He flicked through each one's rap sheets in turn, trying to find a connection. Pit, he didn't even know if Snapdragon's seller was a Cybertronian. There were a spare few reports over the vorns of unscrupulous Velocitronians selling it through intermediaries after paying a visit to Hydrus Four. Curiously enough, Nucleon dealings tended to crop up more frequently around the time of Cybertronian and Velocitronian races. Maybe a correlation there, but there was no proof of causation. Velocitronian crime reports stuck to their planet.

A tapping at his side made him turn. He flashed a debonair smile at the attractive black and red Seeker standing there leaning against the kiosk like a relaxed Panthron.

"Got anything for me?" she asked, smiling back.

His smile turned into a suggestive grin. The Seeker frowned playfully at him.

"Get your processor out of the gutter, sweetie. I'm here strictly on business. No time for this flirt war we've got going. Besides, I told you earlier I'm already taken."

The analyst wasn't willing to drop the suggestion right away: "Oh, dash that to pieces. I've always got time for you, sweet-spark."

'Well, if he wants to play – let's play.'

She drew nearer and let a wing brush against him. Two slender hands were placed on his pauldrons as she lingered behind him. She leaned in and whispered, at first suggestively, then with growing seriousness:

"Come on, Low. Tell me. You find anything I could work with? I'd like to avoid relying on my snitches for this. Hoof's been getting suspicious lately. Had to hide away one of them after she nearly got caught by him."

Lowrider winced as the phrase brought him back to grim reality. Much as he wanted to ask which snitch and where he knew better. Thunderhoof had audials all over the city, and statistics showed he had at least one double agent in every Kaonian precinct. Sentenza's network was the most valuable asset the city had. Rule One when working with her was very simple: don't endanger that asset in any way. That applied doubly to the snitches and double agents. Pit, every non-corrupt precinct in Kaon and Iacon knew that! Everyone in the seventh, new recruit or hardened veteran, knew that little motto by spark. So he shifted a little and let her lean over his pauldrons to get a look at the kiosk display, enjoying the little moment of contact with her. She really was lovely...Slagged lucky mech to get a femme like her, whoever he was.

"Hmm. Good start," she proclaimed in satisfaction, "I doubt our crook's among these numbers but it's worth a shot. I'll download these and all information on them if you don't mind..."

"Not at all!" grinned Lowrider.

"And get these to Hun-Gurr when he arrives. If our sveltok is in the system he might be able to match the scent. Thanks, Low!"

The analyst was startled when the Seeker happily smiled, leaned in, and planted a brief kiss on the side of his helm. Then she darted off towards the medical bay. Lowrider stood there stunned as his processor computed what had just happened. A grin formed and a soon laugh escaped his vocalizer. He was humming a tune when he sauntered off to join Highbeam in the field.

Sentenza came into Elixar's laboratory without even bothering to knock. She found the toxicologist busy running a scanning beam over a seated Snapdragon who was past being simply peeved and getting right up there to impatient. He looked distinctly relieved when the stunning magenta and pale pink femme turned her blue optics away from him in an instant, her pale blue accents shimmering. The scanning beam was shut off.

Elixar smiled and rushed over with a cry of "Darling!" and proceeded to give the Seeker a warm, friendly, and ever so slightly crushing embrace. Sentenza did not return it to the same degree, merely putting a hand on her mantle plating and putting the other around Elixar's frame. Elixar didn't mind. This was a very typical greeting for the detective, one that had been enacted many times before now. She didn't permit attachment in a business as dangerous as hers despite Sentenza knowing her all the way back from police academy. It was just safer to not display it.

"Oh, darling it's been simply ages!" she said in an excited voice, "How goes the business? Fairly rolling in credits and crooks?"

The Seeker managed a small smile at her as she said: "I'm still alive. I got a good income. My network's in one piece. Oh! I also got some of ol' Hoof's weapons smugglers locked away about two deca-cycles ago. Entire ring shut down. In one night. And I got a Praxian cop twirled 'round my little digit." Try as she might to conceal it she couldn't keep a hint of smugness from workings its way into her tone.

The other femme laughed. "Darling, that's wonderful! Who's your Praxian?"

Sentenza winked playfully. "Ah, he likes to stay outta the limelight. He's a homicide investigator though. Slagged one good. I'll introduce you to him at some point. He might visit on another off cycle."

"Oooh! A hommie, is he? And the old darklight's put you with me and the boys! Why, it's just like old times, isn't it?"

"It is, isn't it? So, can you give me the medical details on Snapdragon? What exactly did the Nucleon do to him, and can the damage be fixed?"

In answer to her question she brought up a holographic display of Snapdragon's frame that was semi-transparent, permitting major interior mechanisms to be viewed. Two mechanisms in particular were highlighted in and pulsed with red light: the vocalizer and the t-cog. There were no physical damage readings, but that fit with the symptoms the little dragon mech was displaying. The mechanisms weren't damaged – they had simply stopped functioning altogether. Thus were the unpredictable effects of Nucleon. Elixar clarified:

"Nucleon was taken in to the cistern, processed like regular Energon and distributed throughout his systems. T-cog was affected first and foremost. Something about the volatile chemicals in the stuff reacts negatively with the bio-mechanism. Even if we're still puzzling out why, it's a common side effect after usage. For some reason it then proceeded to cripple his vocalizer of all things, along with his comm. link. He truly is completely mute, unable to speak physically in any way. He could use field glyphs, but that can be a tad difficult. And unfortunately there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll never be able to use any of them again, and that's with a Hydrusian healer."

The look of pure, unadulterated horror on Snapdragon's faceplates was enough make both femmes cringe in sympathy.

"I said fifty-fifty, Snapdragon," Elixar said. "Hydrusian healers are very talented and they've only had some cases where they couldn't fix the issue. There's actually a greater chance they can restore your t-cog over any other mechanisms. Even if they can't completely repair a mechanism they can at least get partial function back."

Snapdragon's expression shifted to acute aggravation. He gave a silent huff, crossed his arms over his little chest, and glowered at them. One digit tapped against his arm mesh. Tap, tap, tap.

"If you don't solve this and find the dealer, I get my credits back!" the mini-con's faceplates seemed to say.

Author's Note: Okay, I kind of lied. Forgot I had this one done from last weekend. So here's some more goodies for you guys! This is another multi-parter. No murders here, just criminal activity.

Also, Clampdown's nervous breakdown in NotB doesn't seem so generic, does it? ;) "She's here, we're dead. She's here, we're dead." He would know that – because he saw Her murder an Enforcer before his very optics.