Nature of the Beast

Chapter 20

Fracture had to admit that he was intrigued by his target this time around. Being obsessed with hitting his target was normal. He was in it for the bounty after all, or else getting the target before that cursed holier-than-thou Drift so he could rub it in his faceplates. But fascination? That was new to him.

His micro-cam had lost physical sight of the Seeker due to her faster flight speed. Fortunately her flight trail was easy enough to follow, and due to the wilderness terrain for miles around she had elected not to cloak herself. That had only made following her even easier. And so it had eventually caught up with her at the scrapyard and found a nice little nook from which to observe her. Just to be sure she wouldn't would spot him, he made the micro-cam stay in the lengthening shadows. Soon enough the darkness would hide it completely.

He observed her pause a bit stiffly and look around the apparently empty scrapyard, Predacon yellow optics puzzled. He honestly shared her confusion. To leave the scrapyard completely devoid of guards was utterly reckless on the part of the Autobots. No matter the priority of other escaped convicts, to leave a foothold unprotected was stupid to the nth degree. Sentenza – the Nightdemon – was a force to be reckoned with for sure, but she couldn't defend such a large area entirely by herself. Because as powerful as she was, she was just one femme with a cloaker, an energy scythe, and a cargo-hauler's worth of ruthlessness. No longer was she the lethal phantasm spoken of by other Decepticons in hushed, terrified whispers. The Demon had been made mortal.

"Charity?" he heard her call out. "I'm back! Where are you?"

The ensuring brief bout of silence made the Seeker femme tense visibly. Her hand hovered over the black bar on her hip. But she relaxed when a voice shouted in reply:

"Back here! Hang on, I'll be there in a klik!"

He watched Sentenza relax further, a smile forming on her lip-plates. Behind her, the alien sun sank further until it framed her helm. Fracture had to admit that right then the Seeker femme looked downright bewitching. He could well understand why the boy scout cop Counterforce had fallen for her. She truly was magnificent in her own right despite being so dangerous. Beautiful yet deadly – a combination he himself found attractive. It was almost a shame she had to die...but she needed to pay for killing so many other Decepticons.

Oh, and also taking some of his bounties. That was his main motivation for going along with this insane plan.

Fracture continued to watch. Within a minute local time a very cute, very dainty looking femme sprinted into the area Sentenza was waiting. Hanging from this one's hip was a masterfully crafted photoharp of silver metal and pale green energy strings – custom made from the look of the thing. Must've cost her quite a bit. Any thief in their right minds might have a go at such a pretty object, but he could only imagine how it sounded.

Both femmes touched palms in a casual greeting.

"Are you alright? No...issues out there or on the way back?" the femme called Charity asked. Her jade optics flicked up to note the alien sun's position as it hovered above the right on the horizon, then back down.

The way she had said "issues" and her glancing at the sun made Fracture's expression morph into one of intrigued confusion. Was she referring to the Nightdemon? If so, it showed Steeljaw and the others weren't the only ones wary of her. Interesting, possibly useful data. With the right scheme they might be able to turn every one of the Autobots against her, leaving her entirely alone save for the stubbornly loyal Counterforce. That might just make their job easier.

Sentenza shook her helm, replying: "No. Got frustrated on coming up empty-handed and had to take a break. Minor surge due to emotional instability, but I got it under control."

"No 'Cons, huh?"

"Like I said to Counterforce, they've had more than enough time by this point to scatter far from the crash site. Some of 'em could be a state or more away by now. And if they know I'm here, that's just another slagged good reason for them to get the Pit away. Kinda happy I didn't find anyone if you know what I mean. You saw what happened in the clearing with Steeljaw that first night...I don't want to become that again."

Her voice lowered suddenly, becoming slightly more raspy and desperate sounding. The micro-cam barely picked up her next words:

"Charity, I swear it's getting worse. The longer I stay here, the more unstable the night code gets. Even now I can still feel it, trying to get out...I don't know how much longer I can fight it. And you wanna know the scariest part? Some tiny little sliver of me doesn't want to. That part wants to know what would happen if I just stopped fighting it. I know what happened on Cybertron, but here? Something's different."

At that she sank to ground, hunching her knees up to her chestplates as she gave a tired, world-weary sigh. The Seeker femme looked on the verge of crying and or screaming at the heavens until her vocalizer glitched.

"You don't know how exhausting it is to fight yourself, day in and day out. I think it's a fight I'm doomed to lose..."

Fracture was now riveted to the feed screen. The Nightdemon was some sort of malware? And she had trouble fighting it? Hm. Another scrap of potentially useful data.

He watched as Charity gave a little smile and put a hand on the Seeker's shoulder armor. Then she let it fall and detached the instrument from her hip. Haunting, fluid notes flowed from both it and the femme's vocalizer. The bounty hunter, even listening remotely, felt himself relax almost against his will, his aggression and tension slipping away. He remembered this song. His Guardian used to hum it to him occasionally when he was just a sparkling. He leaned forward on the console, red optics shuttering. Lovely it was...you could lose yourself in the harmonies. Yes, lose yourself...

With a start he forced himself to snap back to the task at hand, forcing his optics to open and focus on the screen. Sentenza no longer looked ready to snap into a mental breakdown. She appeared relaxed now. Fascinated and a bit puzzled, he ran a diagnostic of his processor out of curiosity and blinked in surprise. The parts that governed aggressive behavior were far lower in activity than normal, and the ones that governed higher functions such as logical thought, and worst of all, compassion, were spiking hard. He could only suspect the same thing was true of the Seeker's processor.

One brow ridge rose as he kept watching. Now that was interesting. Steeljaw needed to know about this. Sweet as the femme was, she posed a very distinct risk to to the mech's plan for Sentenza.

Bumblebee was relieved to no end when they finally got back to the salvage yard. He wasn't exhausted physically as much as he was exhausted of patience. Almost the whole drive back, Backdraft and Sideswipe had teased and playfully tormented Drift about his sudden little spurt of kindness. Even Russell and Zodiac had gotten in on the gig. The conscientious bounty hunter had responded back with either monosyllables or outright silence that practically seethed with annoyance. He'd finally convinced the two menaces to zip it about halfway home only for the rest of the drive to be awkwardly silent.

Now that they were back (thank the Allspark) he could safely separate them before fireworks started going off again.

"You two, go help Strongarm and Grimlock get our 'Cons back into their pods. Windstorm, make sure they're secure this time."

Windstorm started of but paused and turned around curiously. "Want me to work on another pod? I got several of them partially started before this whole fiasco started up."

He told him that wasn't necessary. He'd helped take down an uber-tank by basically dismantling it with his mind. He deserved some down time. His poor processor was probably running on fumes by this point. A tired mind was prone to making mistakes. The inventor honestly looked more than happy not to argue the point, saying he'd ensure the integrity of the two pods before going through with the order for some recharge time. He admitted a solid joor or so sounded delightful right about now. His helm was aching something fierce.

"Zodiac, Fix-It, would you mind assisting me?"

Fix-It said he'd be delighted to help in any way at the same moment the metal hawk transformed with a flourish. The expression on her faceplates was one of faint, very awkward uncertainty. When she spoke, her voice came quickly, rather like a sparkling trying to make up an excuse on the fly:

"Ah, electrical engineering isn't really my thing, sparky. But sure. I mean, I-I know enough of the basics to catch a super obvious error. Which a tired processor is likely to make. Proven by numerous studies. T-That's not sayin' you will, just..." She seemed to realize she was rambling. "Yeah. I'll help."

Bumblebee, Smokescreen, Drift, and Counterforce watched the three nerds head off towards the pods. Mere moments later, Grimlock stomped by with Springload slung over his broad shoulders. Strongarm was right on his tail and happily dragged Quillfire by the heel strut. Behind the two slunk the pristine pale blue and white form of Frostbite, ever on the alert should one of the two awaken before they were safely contained in their cells. Bumblebee nodded to himself.

All in all it had been a successful day for them. No one was hurt, two 'Cons had been recaptured, the stolen tank had been left where it was and coordinates anonymously forwarded to the military, and Sentenza...

The former war scout froze. "Guys? Where's Sentenza?"

His answer came when Charity popped into existence from around an isle of antiques. She must have overheard his frantic question for she told him that the Seeker femme was safely hidden in her little spot outside the walls. Nothing was wrong with her aside from being understandably strained and, to be honest with him, frustrated and depressed. She was perfectly fine; there was absolutely no need to fly into panic attacks. Those emotions were presently being dealt with thanks to some meditation and auditory therapy. Hopefully by the time the Earth's star sank or sometime soon thereafter she would be in power down. She'd just left her for a moment to check on everyone once she'd heard the gates open.

"Why would she require specialized attention from you, medic? Is something wrong with her?" Drift wondered. He'd met her in Kaon once or twice and she'd seemed quite civil if a bit grim and harmlessly flirtatious. Nothing had appeared to the matter with her then.

The bounty hunter's innocent question was met with uncertain glances between the four individuals.

"Uhhh..." Smokescreen began, eyeing Counterforce sideways. "That's...kind of confidential information, pal. To be blunt, we're not sure if we can trust you with it. Let's just say you being a bounty hunter may or may not have something to do with that. Until we know you won't shoot her, stab her, or cuff her and drag her aft to the Council, that information is staying that way."

"Trust me, it's not personal. We probably wouldn't even tell Jazz if he asked that question. I mean, slag, I'm surprised CF trusted all of us with it in the first place. He barely knew any of us. 'Cause believe me – this isn't exactly info you go tossing into the air like beads at Mardi Gras. This...it's dark. Really dark." Bumblebee added.

Drift frowned but nodded in understanding, ignoring the inexplicable simile. Obviously Sentenza harbored a dark secret that would, under common definition, label her as dangerous or perhaps even a criminal. The honorable part of his processor told him it was not his place nor right to nose into something that these young 'Bots were so willing to defend. They held her in a certain degree of trust, clearly. But still...he found himself wondering what that secret might be. If tone was anything to go by, something was seriously wrong with her. And so the question he asked himself was this:

If the Seeker's secret was so dark, so possibly dangerous, why then would the others trust her enough to shield her? If she was a danger, why shelter her at all?

"How might I earn that trust?"

The four mechs blinked in surprise. Drift wasn't suggesting what they thought he was...was he?

Denny stepped into the conversation from nearby. "I'd invite you to stick around and earn it; y'know, work with her first-hand. But, ah, well...we've kind of got a full house here. I can only hide so many giant aliens on my property before someone sees something and posts it online. I mean, you're more than welcome to stop by and lend a hand whenever or crash for a few hours, but..." The man shrugged expressively: "I'm just outta room here."

"Tell you what: do you think you could hop back on your ship and update the Council as to what's going on here?" Counterforce suggested. "We've got no way of communicating with Cybertron, so we're pretty much relying on couriers to carry the messages. You're in their good graces. Mind you, that's just a request. You don't have to do it. You could stay if you really want to help. But if you want our trust – want her trust – if you do go, don't tell them about the spacebridge hijacking, okay? We were singled out and sent here to help deal with this breakout, and we can't do that if we're locked up on Cybertron."

"And frankly we're trying to keep this breakout on the down low. 'Bee told me that Jazz updated the Council before we all got here; don't know exactly what he said, but he did ask him not to tell everything." Smokescreen added.

The bounty hunter's frown deepened as his morality warred against the request to lie. What troubled him even more was that the mech making the request of him was naturally honest.

[Master Drift? May I make a suggestion?] Jetstorm asked.

"You may. What is it?"

[What if you told them of the hijacking, but not the true cause of it? Tell them it was a-a system's wide bug or something along those lines.]

[And that a few "unfortunate individuals" investigating a possible hacker were sucked into the vortex, perhaps?] Slipstream added.

His frown lightened marginally. Technically it was still lying, but in a fairly harmless, white lie manner, and at the very least he wasn't keeping information from the Council – just...modifying it a bit. Jetstorm's excuse would take some tweaking to make it fully believable – why would a medic and an astronomer investigate a hacker for instance – but he believed he might be able to use it. After all, the Council mayn't believe him if he told the true cause of the unauthorized spacebridge usage anyway. If this was the only way to earn Sentenza's trust...then so be it.

"Very well. I will stay for a short time, then return to Cybertron once I have something more substantial to report to the Council."

Bumblebee smiled rather wryly. "Fair deal. Thanks, Drift." Even as he said that he silently radioed Frostbite to guard Sentenza's hiding spot and to keep Drift away if he got too close. With night about to fall, Sentenza had enough strain on her without dealing with an overly curious bounty hunter.

The Canipid grunted back that he would.

Fracture had moved the micro-cam from its previous hiding place as stealthily as possible. He made the little spy-bot follow the Seeker towards the southern wall, always keeping just out of sight. When she leapt over, he was forced to wait until she slid into a small conglomeration of metal that provided basic shelter from the elements. Once he was sure she was comfortable in her spot, he flew the micro-cam up into the low boughs of a tree where it at present sat watching her. She was in the same hunched up position as she had been earlier, but something in her optics – a dullness – caught him by surprise. She looked like a depressed, inwardly focused black statue.

He noted a bit curiously a quick flash of movement through the shrubbery nearby. When the source came out in the open, he was puzzled to see a furry Earth creature even smaller than a mini-con, about the size of a scraplet. It slunk towards the metal shelter and vanished inside. He was stunned to see it nuzzle up against the Seeker's heel a few times, Sentenza looking down to stroke it once or twice. Her expression did not change though, and soon enough her focus went back into the depths of the forest. The creature, sensing its presence was not needed, left her side and vanished out of visual range of the micro-cam.

For the first time he wished he was there watching her in person so he could get a better grasp of her emotional state. Solely visual observation could only tell one so much. Observing first-hand allowed for an analysis of the target's field and thus a greater understanding of what they were feeling. But with the sun having now sunken below the horizon, and with him now knowing what the Nightdemon truly was, getting anywhere near her would be suicide. Isolated as she was right now, he knew for a fact Charity would soon return.

And return she did. Barely half a breem had passed before the dainty healer returned. He motioned for Steeljaw to come over and see for himself the enchanting effect of her voice and 'harp.

"Keep a close watch on your processor functions." he warned the other.

Steeljaw gave him an odd look but nodded. What Fracture had told him earlier was downright incredible – so incredible he'd insisted on seeing and hearing it for himself. He knew for himself that certain frequencies could affect a Cybertronian mind and even body for good or ill, but such specific targeting of processor regions – to where the subconscious and conscious mind were detectably altered – that was new to him; to say that it was immensely interesting would be putting it mildly. If this was some new kind of talent, he wanted to know precisely how it worked.

And whether or not it could be manipulated for his purposes.

Both mechs watched as Charity returned to the Seeker's hiding place. Steeljaw was interested to note that the medic did not get closer than the wall itself, seating herself atop it. Obviously she knew of the risk Sentenza posed after dark as well as any of them, but her expression showed no fear. All he and Fracture saw was overwhelming kindness as she detached the photoharp from her hip. And thus, Charity began to play. The instrument's ethereal notes flowed and wafted like early morning mist. Then, Charity's voice entered – not mere humming but actual, tangible words...

The two Decepticons froze.

Drift stuck to his promise to patrol the perimeter. Slipstream and Jetstorm recharged silently on his arms. After their endeavors earlier in the afternoon their systems needed some time to recover. As he walked he made note of the various ways the salvage yard's defenses could be increased, though the increase in Bumblebee's squadron size was encouraging to him. More warriors meant it was less likely Fracture would attempt a calculated ambush. He had managed against Bumblebee's smaller team due to surprise. These new reinforcements – they seemed quite experienced.

He rounded a corner that led to the southern wall and froze at what he heard then: the soothing chords of a photoharp, and a voice – the most beautiful voice he had ever heard:

"May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune,

With diamonds and pearls, at your head and your feet.

And may you need never to banish misfortune,

May you find kindness in all that you meet..."

His tight limbs lost their tension. The iron bands around his spark loosened. A faint but truly genuine smile formed. It wasn't a lullaby from home but it was beautiful nonetheless. So absorbed in listening to more of the lullaby that he barely detected the low growl of warning, but before he could determine where it had come from he felt himself forced to the ground, though it felt more like being tackled. He was stunned to find Frostbite pinning him on his back, fangs bared in a threat. That he wasn't dripping liquid nitrogen was of some little comfort.

"Frostbite? What in the name of the Allspark are you doing?" demanded the bounty hunter in a hiss. "I thought we were in agreement that I wasn't an enemy!"

His audials pinned back. [I've orders to keep you away from this wall.]

"What for? All I can hear is...someone singing. Who is that?"

The Canipid's helm lifted towards where the voice was coming from. His snarl faded, claws retracted. Then...he simply removed himself, allowing Drift to get to his pedes. Drift didn't what was more incredible – the Predacon disobeying someone's orders or the voice continuing in the background that had seemed to lull the protective anger right out of him.

[I think it's best you see for yourself.] Frostbite said. He added faintly that he would get in so much trouble for this. But he did admit aloud that it would better for Drift to see this now, under peaceful circumstances, rather than later under less desirable ones. He had to swear on his spark that the what he was about to see would go no further than the walls of this salvage yard, though. This was highly confidential.

Turning, Frostbite trotted off, flicking his tail in a "follow-me" gesture. Not knowing what else to do, Drift obeyed. Secretly he was thankful the lullaby was keeping his mini-cons out of it. Whatever the Canipid was going to show him, that invitation might not extend to them, and the mech did not desire more conflict with him. Frostbite's protectiveness of his allies rendered him quick to flare against anyone he deemed as too intrusive – no matter how innocently. In an odd way, admirable.

As they neared, the music and lovely voice grew louder. Through the dense shrubbery a mass of metal could be seen that might vaguely be considered a shelter of sorts. A life sign was faintly detectable within, but something about the way its waveform pattern was behaving got him curious. It was very similar to the one a Cybertronian experienced when in deep meditation, almost a conscious trance or stasis lock. That was not his point of focus, however. When the two paused at a thick clustering of trees, the cause of the sounds was made as clear as a gunshot on a still night. Drift found himself blinking in disbelief, felt his jaw drop of its own accord.

The one strumming the photoharp, the one singing so beautifully...was Charity. Her tri-shade green body was washed the first of the silver beams coming from the rising moon, igniting her body and making her resemble some ancient, benevolent spirit. And from the way her jade optics would occasionally open and eye the make-shift shelter, it was plain she was singing to someone.

"Who? Why?" he murmured.

[I would tell you to go and see for yourself. Will say that if you choose that course there's a chance you'll die. If you choose not to, I'm not at liberty to inform you. Yet.]

One brow ridge rose. Drift looked first at the shelter, then the medic, then back again. After a three full Earth minutes the bounty hunter seemed to come to a decision. He cast one last look at Charity, smiled softly, and turned on his heel struts...and left. Whether it was due to his better judgement speaking or the effects of Charity's 'harp, the Canipid couldn't say. Perhaps it was both – the latter affecting the former. Frostbite's keen audials did however pick up gentle humming from Drift's vocalizer that matched the melody the femme medic was singing. And that gave him all the answer he really needed.

The beast-former's tail swished as he lay down on his belly, returning to his sentry duty with a low rumble from deep in his chest. Drift certainly acted strict and unmoving, but if one found a way to remove the cage around his spark he became a different person. He became softer, gentler and – dare he say it – almost kind. He had to admit, Drift was more tolerable like this than the way he was normally.

His helm lifted, locking on Charity. She seemed to sense the scrutiny, jade optics opening, and looked at him during a voice-less instrumental segment. A smile formed as one optic shuttered rapidly in a wink. Then she turned her attention back to the task at hand, still smiling softly to herself. The music seemed to become even more beautiful, even more flowing and soothing. Her voice echoed out into the woods.

Frostbite's fanged maw curled into a smile of his own. His helm lowered in a bow before it came to rest on his forepaws. His icy blue optics shuttered.

'Nicely done, healer. Nicely done.'

"Now that is interesting."

That comment came from Steeljaw after Charity's enrapturing performance. Fracture's warning hadn't proven unsubstantiated. Throughout the medic's haunting lullaby his processor functions had undergone a swift, almost drastic change from violent and cunning to passive and gentle. It had taken all his willpower to resist the change, and even after her singing had stopped the effects still lingered like an infection.

"Any idea how she does it?" Fracture wondered. He had felt the effects as well and was equally fascinated, but he was no scientist.

"My guess is that her instrument emits certain frequencies in conjunction with the normal, audible ones it produces naturally. Those other frequencies enable her to influence another's mind by stimulating or depressing certain portions of an active processor. The music she plays with it serves to further enhance them; rather like a psychic tuning fork resonating with a partner if you will. Makes me think the instrument is custom made. Whether or not she made it or modified it herself I can't say."

"But what's she doing it for? Does she even know she's manipulating others?"

"Oh, I think she's very much aware even if she doesn't quite understand how she's doing it." Steeljaw smiled crookedly. "As for why – well, you heard what the Nightdemon is: a malicious corruption in her personality coding. During daylight hours it appears to be naturally suppressed for some reason (we'll discover that with further observation) but at night Sentenza's will is usually too weak to fight the darker impulses. That means she needs help. Knowing those two facts, take a guess."

Fracture's red optics widened by a fraction. "She's controlling the corrupted coding by suppressing it, forcing it into remission. Or I guess here she's just putting her under for the night. Safety precaution I'm guessing. It seems to me that the 'Bots know about her little 'issue' and don't fully trust her after dark. But still, to be able to put the Nightdemon under..."

He stared at the screen in shocked silence where a live feed of the slumbering Seeker was displayed. The dainty healer had left the scene once her melody was complete, but he found himself transfixed on the spot where she had been. Something about her was hypnotic now, almost other worldly. Her voice could literally tame a monster – or more accurately, lull it to sleep. That was some talent. No wonder Charity wasn't afraid of her. She had her own unique means of defense.

Steeljaw's crooked smile became even more twisted.

"Exactly. And if there's a way to suppress it...there's most certainly a way to incite it."

Fracture grinned darkly back.

Author's Note: Well, first week of 2nd semester went with a bang! 3.2 GPA last semester. Hoping to make it even higher this semester. My teachers this time around are just as awesome and fun, and thus far I don't have any homework yet, so I'm able to keep writing. Literature looks like it might actually be fun since the class is so small (10 kids total) and the teacher is very lively.

*Note 1: The song Charity is singing this chapter is called "Sleepsong" by Secret Garden. Go look it up on YouTube. It's gorgeous. :)

Note 2: I'd make this chapter longer but it's not an "episode" chapter. It's more like a teeny intermission. I mean, it's almost 5,000 words.

After starting "Stray Cat Strut," Tumbler will be making brief little cameo like appearances in chapters now every so often from here on out. I like my continuity. :3