Nature of the Beast
Chapter 45
*You wanted some Windblade, Alexandria? Well, here we go...but first, some lead up to her that wasn't in the show...
*Side note: "Chandelle" is pronounced "Shaun-dell" and her nickname is pronounced "Shaun-dee". A "chandelle" is a flight maneuver where an airplane executes a steep climbing turn used to gain height while also changing the aircraft's direction.
**Also yes, Ranseur and Tanto are a thing. :3
In hindsight, Ranseur mused, perhaps he had been overzealous in his mission. He had made an error in his fervor to retrieve the stolen instrument. Scratched by a Lupioid? Bah! Only a neophyte thief with his helm too deep in his future earnings made that kind of mistake. But the mission had concluded successfully, errors aside, and so the end result was worth a few minor scratches to his leg and and a subsequent abrasion to his sense of pride. That sweet little ballad of a medic was so wonderfully pleased to have her property returned at last; that was what mattered. Her beaming smiles were like a second sun, so bright they were to his optics, and her proliferate thanks and embraces (he had stopped counting at six) was a salve to his damaged dignity. Her pure joy reminded anew why exactly he did what he did. It wasn't about the thrill of the heist or a fast-paced sword duel – it was about seeing the glee on a victim's faceplates or hearing it in their voice when the stolen property was returned to them. That was a particular breed of gratification he had not been able to achieve in any other endeavor, and oh how he had yearned for it. To finally have that exhilarating rush again after so long was intoxicating.
'Do not let it go to your helm, love,' Tantō chided over the bond. 'That is what led to your capture, and mine, remember?'
He sighed, 'Why must you ruin such a beautiful moment with your prosaic pragmatism?'
Tantō stamped one hoof and snorted at him. 'Primus blessed you with an intelligence for a purpose. Do not squander it on sensation.'
'Says the mech who gets a similar thrill publicly airing the dirty laundry of the elites.'
The snort became a low rumble. Annoyance prickled across his spark. There came no attempt at denial.
Though getting his leg mended had not been part of their little arrangement, he permitted himself to be talked into it. He couldn't bear to see her fuss. How could he dare say no to such a sweet set of faceplates as hers? And for a mere trainee she had all the skill of a true professional. Her hands were quick, experienced, but gentle. The ani-mesh was peeled free, the wounds were sealed through the hot flame of an ion torch, and fresh ani-mesh was applied to keep the healing wound free of any debris. But he found himself wincing anyway – not from pain but at how bare her kit was on the inside when he managed to steal a glance into. She had all the essentials to deal with a wide variety of physical ailments yet the items had too much shifting room. Zircon bottles and canisters clinked and clanged as the kit was placed on section of shelf intentionally kept clear for it. Guilt nibbled at his spark, then shame, and then, finally, admiration. The femme had so little to give and yet she had given regardless, freely. Giving to a thief – he chuckled to himself. Such delightful irony.
"Thank you again, Ranseur," Charity repeated. "Having this back – you just saved a life."
"No, no," he grinned, waving her thanks aside once again. "It was a pleasure to be of assistance to you, my sweet ballad. If another is assisted in the process, then all the better, yes?"
Her returned smile was sweeter than the finest ixtli.
"Well," he said aloud. "Now that everything has been settled, if you have no more need of me, I will bid you all a fond farewell," he finished with a bow.
The yellow mech stopped him cold with a smile, "Oh-ho, no you don't. You're not getting out of this that easy. We still have our end of the deal to hold up, remember?"
"You have already given to me," he protested. "You need not give more."
'Just accept the offer, you horrible two-bit actor,' Tantō urged in a strained, tired sight. 'They will keep pestering you otherwise. We may as well make the best of their offer. Onyx knows Chandi could use the help.'
"Very well," he yielded. "Since you are so insistent about returning my goodwill, it would be the height of bad manners to refuse your returned goodwill."
"Okay, then what d'ya need us to do?" the young Altihexian asked through one of his leisurely shoulder rolls.
"It should be a simple enough task. A dear friend of mine is need of help that I, as a thief, cannot provide. Her name is Chandelle. She is Polyhexian, like me, though of a very different breed. I know where she is; we have been in contact since the crash. There is no need to strain your already sparse supplies trying to find her. The task I present to you is that, up until a few solar cycles ago, her location was known only to me, but she recently sent me a message saying that her location has been compromised. Though she is more than capable of defending herself, I admit I fear for her safety. She made certain powerful enemies back in Polyhex, ones with bountiful resources who would only be content with her helm displayed on a pike."
"I think I see where you're headed with this," the saffron Iaconian stated. "You need us to help relocate her. Is that right?"
"Precisely. Do you accept?"
He grinned back, "Of course we accept. A friend of yours is a friend of ours."
"And anyone who manages to tick off Polyhexian elites to the point she has a price on her helm is definitely a friend of ours," added the little Avioid through a fierce grin of her own.
In gratitude, he bowed. Such generous sparks they possessed.
He turned to the little mini-con at the command center and gestured to the control, "You do not mind, I trust?"
Fix-It, relenting, rolled aside to permit him to input the coordinates. The map of the planet the ship had gathered before its crash zoomed in on the northern section of the country – Illinois, the humans called it. The saffron Iaconian, Bumblebee, needed no clarification about the signal's location – he accurately pinpointed its position as being within the confines of Chicago. Impressed, he let one brow ridge rise. His investment had been worthwhile it seemed; a familiarity as adept as his would be put to good use.
"Does she have any preferences?" the mech wondered. "I'd be happier knowing I didn't hide her someplace she doesn't like."
"She is not as particular as some other Polyhexians," he admitted, "however she does enjoy the hustle and the bustle of big cities, in particular one with an active night-life."
Bumblebee eyed him sideways, "I'm not sure how safe that is if there are goons hunting her down..."
"I agree, but trust me when I say that having Chandi bored or disinterested would be worse – if she is either, she will then look for trouble to entertain herself."
"I like her already," cackled Smokescreen. "She sounds like fun!"
"She is an...engaging personality indeed," he agreed in a smile. "Just do not mistake her for a damsel in distress. Chandi is a formidable sparring partner. I would not be asking this on her behalf if she did not genuinely fear for her safety."
[Ransy, problem!] Her normally smooth, languid voice was clipped and there was a faint gasp of exertion he could detect.
[Another?] he demanded.
[Elite Guard this time!]
His spark somersaulted. Elite Guard? Star Saber had to be desperate to enlist anything other than mercs, crooked cops, or his personal Enforcers. How many lies had he told to send that kind of legal muscle after her?
"Ranseur?" wondered the sweet ballad. "Is something the matter? You're all tense."
"I-I do not wish to put any pressure on this task, my friends," he started, "but Chandi requires expediency. Another hunter has found her hiding place. Elite Guard."
"One of the Guard?!" gasped Strongarm. "What in the world did she do?!"
Smokescreen's formerly amiable expression went grim, "Better question: why is it just one Guard? That goes against the buddy system Magnus like to use."
The cadet started, "Right. Commander Magnus isn't the type to go against his own protocols..."
Bumblebee didn't even glance away from the map as he addressed his blue friend, "Look into it. Find out what's going on, then bring Chandelle here for protection."
Tantō was less than keen on the idea but he did not allow him to protest. If they were open-minded enough help two thieves they would open-minded enough to help her. They had to be. Chandelle's life depended on it.
'...but there are children here,' the Colt argued. 'I am not sure...'
'Then I will tell her to be on her best behavior.'
The Colt yielded with a grumble as Fix-It opened the groundbridge once more. Though loathe to enter a portal twice in the same solar cycle, Smokescreen and Strongarm stepped up to fill his place. He would have preferred someone other than the cadet (someone smaller) but he could not fault her investigative desire; she would be a poor excuse for a Guard had she lacked it. Whether she, and for that matter everyone else, could be objective when meeting Chandelle was the real priority.
For a brief, terrifying moment she thought the groundbridge had dislocated them again. They weren't in a city, they were in cement room lit by dim white bar lights decorated by grimy cobwebs. Sturdy concrete columns supported the cement above where a low, pulsing thrum that percolated in was so strong it made her plating vibrate. It was only after checking her geographic coordinates did she realize the groundbridge had had no such malfunction. They were precisely where they wanted to be: Chicago, Illinois. They were just beneath it. This was a parking garage she realized, but for what? A night club district perhaps? A concert venue? The throbbing bass certainly wasn't coming from an apartment complex or snug outer-city home. There were rules about sound pollution in residential areas.
"This way," urged the smokey obsidian Lamborghini.
Ranseur led them to the back of the chamber where a huge hole in the wall gaped, its edges lined by smooth steel. Deeper within the hole was a rocky tunnel that sloped gently down, the floor of it paved by cement. She assumed it was a spot where workers were aiming to install a new ventilation fan but there was no sign of any construction other than a perimeter of safety barricades placed a few feet in front of the hole. The only evidence of humans at all was a bit of graffiti on the walls and a yellow warning sign that lay on the ground that proclaimed "KEEP OUT!"
Smokescreen tried to duck in but the Polyhexian grabbed him and shook his helm. Ranseur thus stepped up and rapped onto the metal plating around the hole's edge Clnk-clnk-clnk. Clnk.
"A secret knock? Really?" smirked Smokescreen.
Ranseur smirked back, "Would you rather be ambushed and hung up like a pheasant in a butcher's shop?"
He shrugged, "I dunno. Sounds kinda fun, actually."
Clnk-clnk. Clnk-clnk echoed a reply, much lighter in its impact.
"Come," the thief motioned. "We're free to enter now."
He ducked in, hunched, suddenly more feline than mech. Smokescreen motioned her to take up a middle position, and then he brought up the rear. Out of caution, she sent out a simple scanning pulse to see where the tunnel let out, revealing a moderately sized circular chamber at its end. She was expecting the basics in the chamber; resources were hard to come by here. But when the tunnel opened up and the main chamber lay sprawled all around, she amended her assumption. The walls were carved to a polish and adorned in strange silks and fabrics that scintillated like rippling water, all hung by discreet yet beautiful metal hooks. Warm orange lights burned in outlets in the walls. Ornate rugs, silvery and white, lay on the ground. Off to one side was a stash of Energon cubes, and on the other was a sofa. Long and low and bearing a wider seating area than the one Denny had, it bore a back only on the right side. At the back of the chamber was a large recess shielded by heavy yet translucent drapes that still somehow looked light as silk.
"Oh my gosh, it's a tiny Hobbit hole," Smokescreen gasped.
She looked at him, "What?"
"Chandi!" Ranseur called. "Where are y –"
"ACK!"
She spun. Something had dropped down onto Smokescreen so quickly it took her a moment to register what it was: a femme. A wide-hipped red and pink flier with jointed blades on her back, the helicopter's cockpit as her chestplates, slender, sharp feet and heels that looked like they comprised the rear rotors and tail boom. Her long arms were at present busy pinning the mech beneath her by his throat with ferocity that belied their slim build. Smokescreen struggled to free himself which only made the femme smile in a way that made her uncomfortable. Cables came out from between her digits, Smokescreen struggling feverishly at the sight, and then each connected to his forehead. He went completely still and silent and his optics, wide from some hybrid of fright and shock, seemed to glaze over.
"Chandi!" snapped Ranseur.
The femme smirked, giggled, withdrew the cables and released him. To her relief he started moving again. "You were...in my head..." he gasped.
"Sorry, sweetie," she said in a rich, full voice very much like Ranseur's but far more languid, "I had to make sure Ransy hadn't been fooled. Now I need to check your friend."
Anxious, she backed away from the other femme. "Fat chance," she growled.
Ranseur smiled thinly, "They are not the tricking type, Chandi. There's no need for an interrogation."
"Come on. You're not gonna blame a girl for being cautious are you, Ransy?" she crooned, an innocent digit to her lips. "They're both Guard. How do I know they aren't with the last one?"
"MMM! MMMM-MMM! MM-MM!"
Smokescreen looked up in tandem with her. She gasped. Cocooned to the ceiling by what looked an awful lot like thick webbing was a familiar white, black, and blue, visor-wearing mech, another strip of the stuff plastered over his mouth. Next to him were four other cocooned mechs, out cold.
"JAZZ?!" they cried together.
Chandelle jutted one hip out and put a hand on it, "See? They are with him."
"No!" Smokescreen protested. "I mean, yes, he's with the Guard, and yes that means he's with me and Strongarm, and yes he's a friend, but I seriously doubt he's here to arrest you, much less hurt you! Come on! The guy's a giant metal puppy!"
"MM! MM-HMM!" Jazz nodded vigorously.
"Get him down. Please," the mech begged.
Chandelle contemplated for a moment, one digit to her lip-plates and one hand on her jutting hip. Jazz lifted the visor and returned her look with one so wide-eyed and pitiful it would have made Tumbler proud.
"Oh, alright," she sighed dramatically. "I felt guilty stringing you up there after that little romp we had."
Jazz winked back.
Chandelle removed a piece of plating from her hip, round and sharp and hollow in the center, and threw it at the cocoon only for it to obediently return like a boomerang. The web split apart and began to give under the larger's mech's weight until the supports finally snapped. Jazz issued a muffled shout of alarm as he plummeted, then issued a pained grunt of a moan when he hit ground face-first. Ranseur and Smokescreen set to work removing the rest of the webbing, starting with the gag. After some tugging it finally came free.
"Talk about keepin' a mech in suspense!" he laughed.
"No regrets, then?" smirked Chandelle.
"Regrets? Psh. Nah. You, sweetspark, are an artist!" he kissed a free hand and blew it out in the air towards her.
"Flatterer," she winked. "Keep that up and you'll get a round two."
"Flattery? I'm just saying the honest truth," he winked back.
Uncomfortable, Strongarm looked back at the ceiling and pointed, "Who are they?"
"Oh, them?" Chandelle wondered idly. "Mm, one convict from the Alchemor and three of Star Saber's thugs. Far left one was a complete fledgling though; not a bad sparring partner, very nimble, but he didn't last very long."
"Star Saber?" Smokescreen repeated. "What was your 'crime' to have a High Councilor initiate a 'bot hunt for you? I mean, other than him being a colossal aft by default?"
"In a word: rebellion," she huffed. "Now can we please depart for a safer venue?"
"Fair enough," agreed Smokescreen. "Fix-It, we need a 'bridge back. Sending coordinates."
"That traitorous little rabble rouser isn't going anywhere."
A hulking figure emerged from the tunnel. An Enforcer. Big, well armored, and armed with a huge, long-barreled blaster that definitely couldn't be legal standard issue, he could have easily brawled toe-to-toe with their resident Dinobot. Fighting such a mech would be difficult in a confined space, and the sheer number of bodies eating up space would only make it harder. To retreat, she judged, would be wiser.
"Sir, we need to –" she hissed.
"Fix-It, where's that 'bridge?!" demanded Smokescreen.
[You're underground, sir! I'm having trouble getting a block – dock – lock! Get above ground, or at least closer to the surface than you are!]
That was easier said than done when a small mountain was blocking the only exit.
She opened a line to the thief at her side, [Ranseur, we need to lure him away.]
Ranseur gave no response other than a single ping confirming he'd heard. He then drew his rapier, "You will not touch her!"
"Well, not unless I want him to," Chandelle smirked.
"Shoulda figured you'd be here," the Enforcer sneered at Ranseur. "I wasn't paid to get rid of you but I think Saber'll be happy to pay double!"
"Fascinating! I wasn't aware pond scum could be employed!" retorted Ranseur with a frown that was somehow a smirk as well.
The Enforcer snarled and hefted his weapon, "Let's see how snarky you can be after your face is blown apart!"
Zzrng! Chang!
For a brief moment the Enforcer stood there, processing what had just happened. One hand went up to his cheek were a thin gash was beginning to leak blue, and then his gaze shifted to the only other femme in the room. Chandelle, smiling in a way she could only describe as "dangerous nice girl", idly spun her strange ring weapon around her index digit, the other hand on her hip.
"I don't appreciate it when I'm ignored, sweetie," she warned. "Now put the weapon down and negotiate like a good boy."
"I don't make deals with thosts," he barked back.
Suddenly her and Jazz's earlier banter had a lot more uncomfortable innuendo.
The femme sighed dejectedly. She fiddled with the strange device on her wrist, still eerily calm, and then her wrist shot up and a glob of webbing spewed out to splotch over the Enforcer's optics. He cried out and began trying to rip it off. Chandelle shot towards him, hunched low and fast, now sporting two of her strange ring weapons. One after the other they were rammed into the Enforcer's faceplates in the same way a fighter might shield bash, only she looked like she was using the rings as extensions of her fists, like the universe's most unorthodox set of boxing gloves. She gave him no quarter, never faltering, never lightening her blows. Staggered, unable to compensate fast enough (and still unable to see), the big mech put his hands up in a boxer's block. Chandelle fired off two thick lines of webbing, one anchoring on each arm, and yanked so hard he stumbled forward with a yelp. Ranseur stuck a trod out with a wink. The blinded, horribly off-balance mech fell to the ground face-plates first in a small earthquake. A stifled groan came from him. His wrists and ankles were quickly webbed to the floor by four quick, perfectly aimed bursts, and the rings were thus slid back into place on each hip with a gun-slinger's twirl.
The fight's run time: one minute, eight seconds.
Strongarm let her jaw drop. "And she needs our help?!"
Chandelle crouched by him in a baseball squat, elbows resting on her knee pikes. "Now," she said in a more matronly voice that bordered on patronizing, "you still don't want to talk this out, big boy? I'm willing to."
The Enforcer lifted his helm just enough to spit washer fluid at her trods. Shrugging, "Suit yourself, then!" the flier femme brought one trod up over his helm and stomped. Hard. No more noise or movement came from him. Chandelle set about cocooning him the same way as the others on the ceiling. In fifteen seconds all that was left exposed to the air was his mouth.
"Well, you're utterly an' completely terrifyin'!" Jazz observed cheerily.
Chandelle smiled sweetly. "Thank you!"
In a confident swagger the femme swept past them up into the tunnel. They waited until she was safely out of the tunnel to follow her up.
"Denny?" she said into her comm. link. "Could you keep Russell out of the commons for about an hour?"
To her relief, he agreed. He needed to run into town anyway. Professor Green had an update for them on Tumbler's new leg. She made a note in her processor to come and collect Chandelle's cocooned victims, though without enough pods she wasn't sure where they could be stored.
Bumblebee was expecting three 'bots to walk through the portal, and in fact three 'bots did. But he was pleasantly surprised when a fourth came through with them, and a 'bot he knew well no less. He greeted the jovial War veteran with a grin and a palm-press. Merely stating that it was good to see him was apparently the magical ritual to summon Sideswipe into the commons so fast he nearly knocked Jazz onto his backstrut. Jazz took nearly a full second to recover and figure out what had hit him. Once he figured it out, he laughed out loud and clapped the younger mech on the shoulder.
"What are you doing back here?" he demanded.
"Official Guard business," Jazz answered.
Sideswipe groaned and trudged off to sulk in the corner.
"He seems a bit...tetchy," the saboteur noted.
His smile turned to a frown. Jazz didn't need to know why Sideswipe was in such a mood. Yet. There was a bigger priority to be taken care of and she was busy being gawked at by everyone present, much to her obvious delight. He forced his frown into a friendly smile.
"You're Chandelle?" he guessed.
"The one and only," she winked. "And before you ask, I'll confirm your suspicions: Yes, I'm a thost."
He shared a look with Jazz and Smokescreen. Each shrugged back. "Okay and?" he wondered. "Are you expecting some kind of addendum to that from us?"
Her optics went round and a hand was placed on her chassis. "I'm shocked! Someone who isn't immediately judgemental?"
"We agreed to help a friend of Ranseur's. That's all the information about you that really matters," he assured.
Her flirtatious smile softened into a genuine one, "Thank you. I appreciate your objectivity."
"There's a list of cities on the display," he gestured. "Take your pick and then you can find a place for you to hole up there."
"I'll peruse the goods then," she saluted.
She strolled past him, laid her elbows on the control console, and began to browse the small compendium of cities he'd selected."Miami or New York sound nice..." she muttered. Then she clicked, "Ah, but so does Barcelona, London and Sao Paulo. My, my. So many choices! Such variety!"
"I would prefer you stay close to me," Ranseur argued. "Montreal is –"
Her optics darted back to glance at him briefly, "That's too risky and you know it. The farther apart we are the better our chances of making it back alive. We can't afford to get taken out. Polyhex needs us too badly."
Ranseur sighed and presented no further protest though he could see the displeasure in his optics all too easily. Tantō seemed just as uncomfortable at the prospect of her being on the other side of the Atlantic.
"How'd you three even meet anyway?" Smokescreen wondered. "A fancy thief, a Predacon, and a thost – that sounds like the lead in to a really weird joke. Er, no offense."
Ranseur chuckled, "None taken, my friend. But our tale is a long one. Perhaps another day, when we are not hounded by time and scoundrels."
"Is it a fun story?" asked Grimlock.
"Full of intrigue, romance, action, and wit," assured the thief.
Chandelle made a little noise of frustration at the console.
"Can't decide?" Bumblebee guessed.
Chandelle eyed him, "I'd hate you for picking so many and giving me a paradox of choice if you weren't so willingly and genuinely trying to help me."
"Wait, wait, wait, I have an idea!" Sideswipe blurted, rising and gesticulating like mad. "If you can't decide, maybe we could put like a – a random generator program or whatever it's called on that list and let it pick for you!"
Fix-It's optics lit up, "That's not a bad idea, nor would it be difficult to do. That would make her more challenging to locate. We could enhance the difficulty further if we purged the list and its data afterwards. That way the only one who would know of her location is Ranseur. All she would have to do is ping her new coordinates to him."
"No, no," Ranseur waved aside the idea. "Being in contact with her is all that is truly required. If I do not know where she was 'bridged she is all the more secure."
Chandelle turned towards with round, shocked, innocent optics, "Ransy..."
"It is for the best, my dear," he said softly.
"If you're worried about bein' all alone I could act as a bodyguard or somethin' if you'd like," Jazz offered through a wink. "I don't need to report back for another week. I'm with the Guard so I can't be touched by angry politicians when I get back."
"Mmm. I suppose yours wouldn't be the worst company I've ever had," she purred, smirking. "In any case you owe me for reporting the crash and getting Star Saber all murder-y."
"I tried to keep it as discreet as I could, sweetspark, you know that now," he protested, "but I still unintentionally got you into this mess so, I agree, I do owe you back."
"Charmer," she smirked.
"Randomizer program is coded and ready for you, Chandelle," announced Fix-It.
"Thank you," she nodded.
"Could you return Tantō and I to Revelstoke first, please?" requested the thief. "I do not wish to worry Rosalie unduly..."
The groundbridge swirled open in a soft bang. Both thieves bade them adieu with formal bows, spark-felt thanks, and a friendly request to call them if any more burglars bothered them again. Everyone was happy to agree.
"Oh! Sideswipe!" the thief exclaimed.
Sideswipe looked at him.
Smiling, the thief grabbed his helm, removed the hat-like addition with its shimmering feather, and tossed it to him. Sideswipe caught it, stared at the dapper addition, mouth agape, then looked back up. "Are you serious?"
The thief's smile broadened.
"But don't you need it?!"
Ranseur winked, "I can always acquire another when I return to Polyhex."
"You mean I can keep it?!"
The thief's smile reached it's broadest width yet.
The delighted squeal that came from the red mech's vocalizer made Bumblebee laugh, as did his delighted little circle-run and hop and gasp of "OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH! I got the Rapolitz's hat! I got his hat, guys! I GOT HIS HAT!" he shrieked, shoving it into his faceplates as if to prove it. He hopped again, "EEEEEEE!"
"Somebody's happy," Jazz chuckled. "Y'know, if it weren't the Rapolitz I'd be jealous."
Bowing once more, Ranseur and Tantō made their exit side by side. Chandelle approached in turn, walked towards it then halted on its event horizon. She spun, "Oh!" she gasped. "Almost forgot my payment to you. You, yellow boy. C'mere."
"Me?" Bumblebee stammered.
"Yes, you," she said, snapping her digits and pointing to the ground in front of her. "Here. You're helping me, so it's only right I pay you back. I don't have anything tangible to offer – well, nothing that wasn't questionably acquired – but I can give you some intel I gathered. I think you'll be interested. But I'm pressed for time, so you. Here. Now."
Bumblebee presented himself to her. He saw the cables almost too late, but flinching to avoid them was pointless. Fast and accurate, they connected to the sides of his helm. The world fritzed and changed.
Forest. Alpine. High altitude. Snow capped mountains on the horizon. Sunset. A shadowy figure, large and thorny, was bound within the cave ahead of him. All that could be discerned was the glow of the bio-lights and the light from a peculiar orange mark rimmed by baby blue on its faceplates. Bright pink slashed through the vision.
Swamp. Lowland. Cool and moist. Another bound figure was dragged into the marshlands bearing the same peculiar mark on its leg, dragged by a figure without a definite shape. Both faded into the murk.
Desert. Basin. Midday. Another figure, this time fully discernible as a heavily damaged vehicle, a Decepticon crest on its grill, was bound in place by military-grade cables and gathering sand on its hood. A wind blew the debris off to reveal the mark that lay there. The sun vanished and dark suffused the landscape. There was no vehicle there any longer.
Alert: Data packet. Command: Open?
He opened it.
"I know who Star Saber really is..." Chandelle's voice whispered in his audials.
The world snapped back into focus suddenly and violently. He gasped and stumbled back as he processed the data.
"Sir! Are you alright?" demanded Strongarm while she steadied him.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he gasped.
"Tah-tah, now!" Chandelle blew him a kiss and winked. "Have fun with your present! I'll certainly have fun with mine!" she giggled.
Jazz at her side, the two stepped into the portal and it closed behind her. Fix-It was prompt in deleting the list and all its contents.
"What was that?" Sideswipe wondered. "You went all statue-mode and zombie optics on us."
"I know why she has to hide," he said in a steadier voice, one hand to his temples. "She's some kind of...mnemo-siphon. She can steal a 'bot's memories. She got a-hold of compromising info on Star Saber, I'm not sure how – I mean I think I know I just don't want to think about it – and now he's out to kill her to shut her up."
"What?!" cried Fix-I. "Why, that's, that's –!"
"That's crazy is what that is," Backdraft stated.
"Did she say what it was?" Strongarm pressed.
"She just said 'I know who he really is.' That's it."
Strongarm frowned. He could see the questions in her optics but she did not voice them.
"But there's something else, too," he went on, "more our line of direct concern. She shared with me that there's someone out there taking out Alchemor convicts. I-I saw it."
"It can't be Sen!" Grimlock exclaimed. "She's an ice cube!"
"No it's not her," he agreed, "which means we need to investigate."
Author's Note: A "thost" is something Praxcrown created but I modified it a little bit since it's a War-era concept. I hopefully don't need to explain what she is...
Kind of a build-up chapter. The real fun starts next. ;D
Note to alexandria: here she comes...;)
