Nature of the Beast

One-Shot Series: Tcsovan Niv A'anoth (Re-Write)

Chapter 1: A Killer Consultation

*OG Corpselight has been renamed to Grimglimmer

She could sense the fear – a hot, acrid, electromagnetic blaze that burned against the cold night air. She could hear the rapid beat of trods against the ground as the source of it ran blindly ahead, hyperventilating its terror loud and clear. There was no clever strategy the prey was employing. No circling back, no false trails. He was running forward. Only ever forward. Through back alleys. Between buildings. Out into the main streets of the district and then onto side streets in a vain endeavor to curb the panic that open areas triggered. And in that panic, the prey made the poor decision to dart into the bullet-train tunnels that ran beneath the city – a rat retreating into what it thought was a safe nest.

Fool.

Into the dark, she followed. The electromagnetic trail left in his wake was as bright and hot as ever, tingling like thousands of tiny needles against her plating. It was almost depressing. There was no challenge with this one. No engagement.

She darted down another tunnel that she knew would connect to the one the rat had run down. It wasn't long before he appeared. He was a miserable, gangly looking muddy brown mech with red optics. Some kind of Lupioid model judging by his audials and tail. On his chest sat a bright purple horned crest. He definitely looked like the sorry excuse for a creature she was looking for. Ragged. Desperate.

She detached the black pole from her hip, extended it, and held it out.

The pitiful creature rammed into it. He fell back with a yelp.

His crimson optics went round and flicked around wildly in search of her. It wouldn't work. She would not be found unless she wanted to be found.

"No! No! Leave me alone!" he begged.

Her hand reached down to latch around the wretch's throat. As he was hefted into the air, his whines became even more pitiful.

"Please! Please! Lemme go! I-I didn't hurt nobody! You gotta believe me!"

She leaned in and hissed, "I do not."

If the panic in his expression and field was not made plain before then, it practically exploded at that statement. He whined and squirmed. She threw him against the tunnel wall and let him stagger. And then, she retracted the blade from the pole tip, hooked it around the wretch's throat, and yanked. Hard. Fast.

SHHHRNG!

Sentenza awoke with a gasp, shivering as she'd been dipped in a vat of liquid nitrogen. She could still hear the sickening sound of the scythe slicing into the mech's throat. She could still hear the gurgle, the failed attempt at a shriek of pain, and hear the thud as the body hit the tunnel floor. She could still see the fear in the mech's optics as he stared up at her while the life literally drained out of him.

But it wasn't a nightmare. It was never a nightmare. He was rusting in a tunnel somewhere below Kaon, surrounded by his own spilt fuel, probably being pecked at by retro-rats if a train hadn't already run him over a few times.

Rage bubbled into her throat.

"Idiot!" she shrieked. "C'kloz jbevth kunz!"

Sentenza rose from her berth and shambled to her desk. Datapads littered its surface. Clues. Leads. Contacts. The evidence board above it was similarly messy but in a far more organized way; a tangled web of connections all leading back to one individual. She angrily tore one connection off and threw it across the room. The desk got a far meaner treatment: each datapad on the desk was wildly swept off its surface. Some simply fell. Others made an impressive distance halfway across the room.

Her hands fell onto the edge of the desk. One hand went to her helm while the other stood like a pillar, but shaking.

"Dammit! Frack!"

Going out at night for looking for a lead for the new case. How could she have been so stupid?! Hadn't she learned by now?!

"Miss! Honestly!" came an indignant voice.

Her helm rose and jerked towards the door. An older femme, well built and heavy, ambled in. Through creaking joints she began to collect the fallen datapads.

"It's a ruddy miracle ye manage to get any work done, the way ye treat yer evidence files!" the femme scolded through her thick Kaonian accent. "Yer lucky I've still got good optics at my age! I could've stepped on one of those little buggers just now, if I hadn't thought to look, and then there goes all yer hard work! Ye really need to be more careful with these!" she urged, waggling a handful of them at her.

She sighed, "Sorry, Camber," and took the datapads from her.

"Apologize by taking better care o' yer things," Camber smiled. "A detective is only as good as their tools, aye?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." She organized the datapads back on the desk, absent-minded.

"Sentenza?" wondered the old femme. "Are y'alright? Did something happen?"

"I...had a really rough night," she admitted slowly as she massaged an aching temple.

The old femme smiled wryly, "Ahh. So that's why yer all hot an' bothered this morning."

Yeah, she thought sourly, if only Camber knew how bad of a night she'd had. What in the world had happened to make Her snap like that? And why? That mech hadn't exactly been dangerous to anyone; there had been no cause to kill him – scare him to get him to talk, maybe, but kill him? He was the grungy and pathetic and probably-open-to-bribery sort, but it wasn't like he was a paid mercenary. He hadn't even been armed. There had been no cause to end him like that.

Something must've gone wrong. He must've done something to warrant it. Something she didn't remember.

"More o' those nasty nightmares?" the older femme guessed.

She nodded back through bleary optics. If only she knew they weren't nightmares. How she wished they were.

"Y'know, ye really ought to talk to someone about those," Camber went on chattily as she straightened a few more items. "I believe I read somewhere that nightmares are the conscious and subconscious at war with each other. The waking mind seeks order, and the slumbering mind wants fear and chaos. You have to get them in balance to get the terrors to stop. Was it a psychologist? No, no, perhaps a sensorium said that..."

"That's not what these are, Cam..." she sighed tersely.

Camber hemmed. "Are y'anxious about something, then? Is a case bothering ye? Anxiety can trigger nightmares, y'know. Stress can too. Ye've not been overworking again, have ye?"

"Sure, yeah. It's stress and anxiety," she mumbled.

"Well, I know just the thing that'll cheer ye right back up in no time!" the older femme declared, and left the room.

Sentenza sighed, hung her helm, and stared blankly at her desk. Anxious. Yes. She was anxious alright. She might as well start locking herself in her flat as soon as sunset happened, at least until she figured out what had caused the snap the other night. Her memory was...foggy. She couldn't even remember if the dead mech had a criminal record or not. She could remember his face, but not the link. Why couldn't she remember?

"Miss!" Camber called excitedly from the doorway.

Sentenza whirled her way, frustrated. "What is it, Cam? I'm –" she paused.

Camber, beaming, announced that she had visitors, and indeed she did. Her lessor had two strange mechs at her side. Judging by their insignias on their arms, they belonged to the Praxian fifteenth precinct. One was a great copper and burgundy individual, very stiff and formal in his posture but he had otherwise amiable face. The other was a little more exotic looking. He was soft gold and silver and he had a bird-like helm design, complete with a beak-like protrusion that extended out like a cap over his forehelm. A pale gold visor hid his optics. He had the same stiff, formal posture but something in the way his helm was titled ever so slightly gave off a more relaxed, curious vibe. It rather reminded her of the way rust hounds tilted their heads on hearing a strange noise.

"May we come in?" the copper mech wondered politely.

"I'm busy. Go away," she snapped, turning her focus back to her desk.

"Miss!" gasped Camber. "This is Commander Aegis!"

"So?" she wondered. "Rank doesn't get you special treatment from me."

"We're not approaching you to hire you directly. Camber warned us you were overworked. We're merely here for a consultation. We'll pay you for your time. Is that alright?"

She turned away from the desk. "You came all the way from Praxus for a consultation?" she wondered, incredulous. "You could've just called my communications coordinator. I would've called you back."

"I'm more comfortable with face-to-face," Aegis admitted. "So, may we come in? Or is this a bad time? We can come back later."

She considered the two for a moment. Upright. Decent. Part of a precinct her contacts assured was clean. And it wasn't exactly like she had any cases active at the moment, just ones waiting in the background for leads. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to help them out with a little advice. It had been a while since she'd had a consultation request. They were willing to pay for one, too. It had to be important if they were willing to do that just for a talk.

Sighing, she motioned them in through a flick of her wrist.

"Thank you," said Aegis. "I know your time is valuable. We'll try to keep this brief."

"Succinct," she corrected tersely as she gathered a few data pads from her desk.

"...Pardon?"

"Succinct, not brief. Being brief will omit data; being succinct won't. Now," she prompted, taking a seat on the back of a sofa. "What's this all about, chief? And who's the puppy you brought with you?"

The golden mech seemed more than a little puzzled at her description even as he fell right into it by giving a more pronounced helm tilt. Sentenza could feel his curious stare from behind the visor.

"See something you like?" she wondered saucily.

His spooked jolt and instant lowering of his helm almost made her smirk. What a puppy.

"Please don't harass my officer. Professionalism, if you don't mind, detective."

"Oh, fine," she huffed. "You're absolutely sure he's not a puppy in an exo-suit though? You've checked?"

Aegis, though his expression remained flat, did let a humorous smirk form for a brief moment. He assured her that while Counterforce was very much the opposite of the mechs in Kaon (that was an understatement, she thought) he was well respected back in Praxus for exactly that reason. He was one of his best officers; intelligent, patient, and conveniently disarming when being professionally nosy. That was why he'd brought him along. Counterforce had happened across a bit of mystery back home in Praxus, but had hit a brick wall that a friend of his, Half-Pint, had suggested she might be able to get through.

"Half-Pint?" she repeated. "He must think this is serious if he sent you my way."

Counterforce once more gave a curious tilt of his helm. His voice, when he spoke, was soft, polite, and surprisingly casual: "Why would a bar-keep sending me your way make this serious?" he wondered perplexedly.

"Go on and tell her what you know, son," prompted Aegis.

The golden Praxian straightened and she felt him look her dead in the face.

"About two deca-cycles ago," he started, "my co-worker overheard something via short-band chatter while on patrol: some cops in the eighth precinct were talking about a problem they had. They never said what it was but they did say they were looking to fix it. After that statement they seemed to have dropped off the radar completely; no radio chatter, no reports from them, nothing. Naturally, my co-worker got worried, and I decided to do a little digging on the side. I thought they may have gone undercover – we've been having a problem with drug deals lately – but I couldn't find any evidence for it, and their colleagues weren't exactly willing to talk to a stranger. Do you – Half-Pint said you were extremely well-informed – do you know anything about this at all? It's not normal for 'bots to vanish into thin air this thoroughly, not in Praxus. That's usually a sign something's gone wrong."

"O-Oh, my!" Camber gasped. "Yer not implying there was foul play, are ye?"

Sentenza cocked a brow ridge. "You said the eighth?"

"Yes."

"One klik."

She rose and returned to her desk to rummage around for a datapad. Upon finding it, she started skimming through the contents. A puzzled frown quickly formed. Counterforce was within his rights to be worried and suspicious. Her records said the eighth was one of the clean ones; there was a very low chance of the disappearances being an inside job, but not impossible.

"D'you have any idea what cases they were investigating prior to their disappearance?" she asked without taking her optics off the datapad. "Was it related or...?"

"I thought you might ask that," Aegis said. "I managed to get a handful of declassified mission reports from just before the disappearance."

Sentenza put a hand out. "Give."

Aegis pulled out a datapad and handed it to her. The reports detailed a handful of drug busts, plus one deal-gone-wrong they'd intervened in around the industrial sector of the city – nothing outwardly suspicious at face value. That was cause enough for her to be suspicious. This smelled too much like someone was trying to throw nosy investigators off the scent, but she still wasn't sure if that was being done mala fide or not. Undercover work tended to have the same outward appearance.

She eyed Aegis sharply. "Did you have any luck getting a Predacon to try to track them?"

"We did make the attempt. Problem was, the beast himself said he wouldn't be much help unless he had a sample of their Energon to use. Regular body scents aren't nearly as reliable. Unfortunately, we didn't have any of their Energon just lying around to give to him. That's not exactly standard procedure, you know."

"Hm. Now I get why you said you've run into a wall," she hemmed. "All your usual lines of inquiry kind of dried up."

"Do you have any unusual lines of inquiry we might try?" wondered Counterforce. "I'm open to anything at this point."

Sentenza eyed him. "Anything?"

He got a little fidgety at her suggestive tone.

She grabbed a holo-stylus off her desk. Counterforce yelped when she then grabbed his arm to scrawl a glowing address on it.

"Check with her. She's an expert darknet ghoster and former drug-dealer. If she asks for confirmation that I sent you, tell her the nightbird flies when the skyfire dies."

Counterforce was taken aback. "Ah...okay."

She folded her arms and looked at him severely. "If she can't offer any help directly, chances are she'll know someone who can."

Aegis thanked her for the clue and handed her a pale green token: one hundred credits.

One brow ridge lifted. She eyed him. "Generous of you."

"You were generous to take us," Aegis told her frankly.

Her surprise left but the raised brow ridge didn't. "If you find out what happened to these guys, can you let me know? These disappearances may be tied to a bigger case I'm working on."

"Of course. How do you want to be contacted?"

"Just send a memo through Grimglimmer's precinct. Be sure to tag "nightbird" to the file so he knows who it's for."

Aegis promised to do exactly that, thanked her again for her time, before he and his officer left.

"Well!" exclaimed Camber. "That certainly wasn't what I had in mind to cheer you up but it seems to have done the trick! You think they'll find what they need, miss?"

She didn't answer. She went over to her desk and updated a file on one of the datapads:

Praxus. Missing cops. 8th precinct.
Link: Increased drug activity.
Context: officer overheard chatter about "problem" needing fixing. What problem?
Drug bust gone bad? Why haven't they been found yet?
Organized hit? Who ordered it?

She leaned back and hemmed. There was a chance this was localized, of course, but Kaon had drilled into her that paranoia was often safer than optimism when drug deals and cops were involved. If there was a crime boss trying to muscle in on new turf and markets like she thought, successfully shutting that endeavor down would be good for Praxus, and it would be good for her as well. Keeping the Praxian precincts on her side was always a good play.

"A pity ye couldn't go with them," sighed Camber. "I rather liked that young officer."

"Cam," she scolded.

"Oh, don't be nasty about it, dear. I was only going to say he certainly seemed to live up to Aegis's praise. I do hope he finds those missing officers. I'd hate to think something horrendous happened to them."

"Then you haven't been paying attention," Sentenza warned grimly.

"Honestly, miss. A little optimism wouldn't hurt ye," chided Camber.

She massaged her temple wearily. "Look, I hope they're okay too, but I learned to stop halting my fans in these situations a long time ago."

Idly, she activated the device on her desk and scanned through the various dispatch frequencies. Camber took the opportunity to impulsively tidy up her lounge.

"Lookin' fer something in particular, miss?"

"Just seeing if anyone's hit some trouble," she half-lied.

Most of the dispatch chatter was just position updates. Two had found some delinquents and were dealing with them. No one seemed to have found the body yet, but a patrol group sounded like they were headed for its vicinity. Perhaps she could get to it first, before the cops moved it and messed with any possible site context. There could be clues to clarify what had gone wrong last night. And maybe...maybe it would better if she got caught at the site. Maybe arresting her was the better move right now. The Other Her was getting unpredictable.

But if she were arrested, she wouldn't be able to do her job. Kaon needed her. The Nightdemon couldn't be arrested without arresting Sentenza in the process.

Sentenza groaned and thunked her helm against the desk. Catch-22's were the worst.

"Miss?"

"'M fine," she mumbled.

"Ye sure?"

"Yeah..."

She felt Camber give her an odd look. "Well, if ye need anything, just ring me."

Camber saw herself out.

"Aw, molten slag!" came a voice over the dispatch frequency.

"What is it?"

Her spark dropped into her tanks.

"10-54. Near the crimson line. I think we got another Demon kill here. Has all the hallmarks."

"Cordon the scene off to prevent any tampering with evidence, not that you'll find anything. If it's a real kill, we never do."

"Aye, sir."

Sentenza groaned and thunked her helm against the desk again. So much for getting to the body first. She rather wished the two Praxians had hung around. They'd offered a welcome distraction. She decided to delve into other case files in hopes they'd offer the same, but she kept going back to the case file the Praxians had presented. Something...something just felt off with that one. Disappearances in a place as full to bursting with law officers as Praxus was nothing short of miraculous. Half-Pint must've thought it was bigger than a mere disappearance if he'd sent them her way, too. Maybe she could –

"No, no," she scolded herself. "You did all you could to help. They have the resources. Leave them to it."

Sentenza put the datapad down. Her hand went back to it unconsciously.

"No. No," she scolded. "You have other things to do. Other cases. No."

The rebellious urge finally was reigned in.

She made a memo to use some of her "special batch" for the next few nights before picking up another case file. Better safe than sorry.

An angry hiss in the back of her mind said the Other Her wasn't happy with her strategy.

Two deca-cycles went by relatively uneventfully. No new cases had been brought forward, allowing Sentenza to resolve some simpler cases that had been cluttering her evidence files. An unwarranted use of deadly force, a passion murder, a false arrest, and a disappearance (voluntary) to name a few. It was something of a relief, really, to find crimes that were individual, independent of Thunderhoof's vast crime web, no matter how satisfying it was to pull yet another thread out from under him.

She'd even uncovered the name of the 'bot from the tunnels after probing the database of the precinct who'd found him: a scrounger named Pack Rat who was known for getting in with the wrong types. That one was less of a relief to her, and without any leads to follow his file was put into a separate, hidden database until she found what exactly had warranted him to die.

She would have to ask around, gather more intel on him. Someone in her Network was bound to know something about him.

In the midst of tidying up and archiving her cases, her personal workstation beeped. A quick check revealed a notification from Kaon's seventh precinct.

"Update" it read. It was tagged nightbird.

She opened it. Inside was a mission report forwarded from Aegis' precinct. They'd found one of the missing officers, it seemed – what had been left of him anyway. The other, however, was still missing, though she was presumed to have met the same fate. Foul play was almost certain. The evidence suggested the officers had been looking to interfere with the supplier behind all the recent drug busts. Who exactly was behind that supply chain they had yet to tag; thanks to the informant's help though, they at least had suspects for the murders. The problem was that one of those suspects, indeed their best one, wasn't even in Praxus anymore: the rust bucket had, as far as they could ascertain, fled to Kaon. They'd sent a request to various trustworthy Kaonian precincts to extradite him back to Praxus for questioning once they caught him but had gotten no answer back yet.

She growled and smacked a hand to her faceplates. "You cops and your stupid protocols...it's a wonder you get anything done..."

But maybe she could offer some further assistance. This idiot thought Kaon was a safe hideout. He clearly wasn't a local or he'd know better. Crooks tended not to last very long in Kaon, not with the dreaded Tcsovan ever on the prowl.

"Cam," she prompted into her comm. link. "I'm heading out. Watch my room."

*Naturally. Do be careful, miss.*

Sentenza stashed the case's datapad in a subspace and stormed out of the door. A "flier's balcony" at the end of the hall enabled easy access from her floor directly to the sky which, for once, wasn't a sooty, cloudy mess. Clear skies made for easier cloaking.

There was one person in Kaon who would be of help finding the suspect. But to get them to talk, she'd have to make some noise.

She flew to a strange tunnel – in reality an old, repurposed subterranean travel terminal – hiding in the city's south sector and entered it cloaked. Inside the actual terminal itself was an underground, rather seedy pub of sorts that she knew from experience attracted similarly seedy individuals, mostly thieves, smugglers, and the occasional pirate crew. Most had past criminal convictions. Some had recent ones on other planets and were hiding out on Cybertron. All came to the pub because of its reputation of not asking questions and not keeping permanent records of its patrons. It wasn't technically illegal, that, but it wound up attracting a lot of people who had done something illegal and wanted to stay below the radar while enjoying a mug or two.

One patron was picked at random. Sentenza drew the pole from her hip and swung it at his abdomen.

"Hey!" the disgruntled mech barked. "Who did that?"

"Me," she warned coldly, and dropped the cloak.

The patrons, all twenty of them, instantly drew arms.

"Frack! She's here again?!" another cried.

To drive her point home she slammed the pole's butt end into her target's face. Another patron charged at her and wound up getting struck in the face baseball bat style. A third rushed her from behind and wound up flung over her shoulder onto the ground, then got a trod planted on his face.

"Anyone else?" she taunted.

A group of four readied to fire on her.

"Stop," the barkeep at the counter, Guzzle, growled. "What do you want, detective?"

"Info. Has anyone from Praxus come here recently?"

"There have been one or two," the barkeep cagily admitted. "Why?"

"He's wanted in Praxus. Name's Misfire. Cop killer."

Guzzle's optics briefly flicked away from her. The sound of a chair being shoved aside forced Sentenza's attention towards the back of the establishment. Someone had fled into the connected tunnels.

"Amateur," she scoffed, and sprinted after him.

Sentenza knew the tunnels well. She knew there were dead ends in them that hadn't ever been restored. She wouldn't have to race to catch him, she only had to trap him. And even if that tactic failed, the only way out was through the pub.

Footfalls echoed nearby.

"Why'd you take those cops out?" she demanded aloud.

"You're Kaonian. What's it matter to you, glitch?" a male voice retorted. He sounded like he was just up ahead.

She desperately wanted to snap back at him that it "mattered" because the one who had killed them was hiding in her city like the rat he was. She kept quiet instead, and in doing so was able to hear his footfalls pick up and then drop off. She heard him swear. Thinking she knew why, Sentenza rushed forward and found him stuck in a dead-ended tunnel.

"This is what happens when you try to run away in a city you don't know, Misfire," she told him.

Misfire pulled out a firearm, a big, ugly looking shotgun, and shot at her. Sentenza dodged to the side and cloaked.

"Stop hiding!" he snarled.

"I'm not hiding," she argued, and struck him in the head with her pole from behind. "I'm strategizing."

Misfire fired again. The shot went wide. The mech paused and looked around, searching for some hint about her position. While still invisible, Sentenza extended the blade of her scythe and sliced the nozzle off his shotgun just as he fired. The ensuing recoil explosion flung him against the wall. From there, she grabbed him, flung him to the ground, and pinned him. She held the butt end of the pole near his neck.

"Talk," she hissed.

Misfire growled. "You think that's supposed to scare me? Ha!"

Sentenza frowned back. To "persuade" him, she activated the blade at the pole's tip: a bright red, curved energy blade that crackled.

"I'm not in a good mood, today, Misfire," she warned him. "Don't test my patience."

Misfire faltered.

She moved the blade a little closer.

"Alright! Alright!" he yielded. "They were snooping into our gig in that chemist's shop near the eighth precinct, so the boss told me to take 'em out!"

"Just you?"

"Yeah."

"Who's your boss?"

The mech nervously sputtered. "Like slag I'm snitching on the boss! He'll have my head on a platter for that!"

"Don't be so sure I won't do the same..." she growled, "or worse."

Misfire read her warning-heavy tone and body language perfectly.

"Thunderhoof."

She snarled. Thunderhoof. Just like she'd thought. Half-Pint must have thought the same, hence why he'd sent Counterforce and Aegis her way.

"What's he want in Praxus? He's never bothered there before."

"I dunno, lady! I'm just the hit-man!"

She snarled.

"I dunno! I swear it! I was paid to take 'em out, not ask questions!"

Her snarl died down. That meant Misfire wasn't one of Thunderhoof's regulars; he was an outside hire. Interesting. In her experience, Thunderhoof wasn't usually willing to take that sort of risk, preferring to keep his hit-men in house.

"Where's the other body?"

Misfire cackled. "No use looking. You won't find her. There's nothing left. Well, I guess technically –"

"Where?"

"Dumped her into a smelter pool. Inspired, right?"

Sentenza's fury nearly snapped. "You think that's funny?! You're proud of that?"

"Hey, at least she'll still get to help the city. Just, y'know, as roofing or something."

She reigned in the urge to strike him. Instead, she pulled out a pair of cuffs, clapped them on, and then grabbed him by a leg and dragged him out into the pub again. Guzzle was mostly impassive at the sight but his customers were on edge as she stormed past them. One femme worked up the nerve to ask "You need a ha–" only for her glare to elicit a squeaked "Never mind."

"Welp, he's dead," one of the mechs observed placidly just before they got out of hearing range.

Sentenza desperately wanted to agree that yes, he was. But as much as she wanted to, she didn't. That was beneath her. Instead, she inglamorously dragged him through Kaon's streets like the most ungainly and wriggly of sleds. Most Kaonians were so used to seeing her with a captured suspect no one really paused to gawk, though some did snicker and briefly stare at the sight.

"We have Sentenza on the case, Aegis. Get things arranged on your end...Yes, she'll have something for you that fast, I – hold on, someone's coming."

The stocky, powerful black mech – more a bristling mountain than a Cybertronian – put his line on hold just as there came a loud knock on his office door. Upon telling them to come in, the door hissed open and a cuffed figure was roughly slung into the room onto the floor. Commander Grimglimmer took about half a klik to process what he was seeing exactly, and when he saw who had tossed the mech into his office (and who currently had a trod on the back of the mech's head) it all came together.

"Brought you a present, chief," frowned Sentenza. "Freshly caught."

"Get your trod off my head, glitch!" the figured complained, though muffled by the floor it didn't come off as impressive.

"I didn't ask for overnight shipping but I shouldn't expect any less from you," approved the big black mech.

"Thunderhoof's making moves on Praxus," the detective warned him. "Thought he could throw us off by hiring an outside hit-man. Not a very smart one, though, if I'm honest. Two star review at best."

"Praxus?" repeated Grimglimmer. "Bold of 'im. I'll warn Aegis's precinct and he'll get the notice out."

The black Seeker nodded. "Good."

Two 'bots came in to haul Misfire away. Sentenza stopped them, whispered something in one's audial, after which the 'bot in question nodded. Both officers stepped aside and let Sentenza drag Misfire back outside. She proceeded to transform, wrap some strong cables around him that she kept on hand, and strung him upside-down from a decorative archway just a few blocks from the precinct. Just to rub it in, she then spray painted "Loser" on his chassis.

"Thunderhoof's gonna hear about this!" snarled Misfire.

"Oh, trust me," she growled, smirking. "I want him to."

She flew off in a bang.

"Hey! Wait!" he hollered. "Get me down from here!"

The officers would get him down eventually. For now, she was happy to let him shriek and squirm. The more people who saw, the more likely it was her message would reach Thunderhoof.

But Sentenza wasn't quite done with the case. Misfire had mentioned a chemist shop near the eighth precinct in Praxus. Upon reaching home again, she rushed to her personal terminal and put in that particular search criteria. While the business looked solid enough at first glance, there were a few key details that convinced her Misfire hadn't been bluffing to save his own spark. The most glaring one was that seven out of the ten most recent drug busts had happened within a few blocks of the shop. Additionally, some of the stuff they sold were byproducts of cesium and thallium refinement. Both metals were powerful illicit drugs when combined with mercury and calcium hydroxide, the resulting drugs known as Racer's High and Grey Pearl respectively.

She sent the coordinates to Aegis's precinct, appending it with the message: got you a lead. check here.

She then sent an additional message: check the smelter pools nearest this chemist's shop.

She sent one final message to Half-Pint to keep a lookout for any further funny business around Praxus. He answered back he would keep his audials, and his pet informants, at the ready.

Two days later, Sentenza was lounging at her desk, sifting through other case files, when a message came through. It wasn't from Aegis, like she thought; it was from the golden boy-scout, Counterforce. The cordial but casual message thanked her warmly for the help in shutting down the drug lab and its suppliers; that had made their lives a lot easier. They'd found some of the second murder victim's body – mere fragments – but at least her loved ones had some closure over her fate. But it was the end of his message that caught her attention most.

Aegis is considering hiring you as an independent consultant for certain cases, since Thunderhoof probably won't back down after one failed 'business' attempt. It would be an as-needed basis. He's not expecting you to move here or anything. He'll understand if you decline. He knows you're busy over there.

Smiling, she replied: I'm game. So long as the wage is decent. I've got employees to pay.

His reply came almost right away: Thank you, detective. I'll let him know. He does have a small request: please don't string suspects up by their ankles. It's unprofessional.

Sentenza made a face at the display. "It's professional for me," she grumbled.

She leaned back in her chair, precariously balancing on the back two legs, and kicked her legs up onto her desk.

"Well, you're in a right better mood," Camber cheerfully observed. "Good to see!"

Any opportunity to annoy Thunderhoof was one to take, she told her. The more attempts he made in Kaon and elsewhere, the more corrupt connections she found, and the more incriminating evidence piled up against him. He was bold targeting Praxus of all places, but also stupid. Very stupid. Praxians were a morally pretentious lot and wouldn't cow-tow to his subversive tactics the way others might.

Camber chortled. "Rather shooting himself in the foot, aye?"

Sentenza chuckled back. Maybe not directly in the foot, she thought. More like shooting at an angled surface and the bullet ricocheting off and then hitting him in the foot. He'd already fired the bullet, she was just waiting for it to ricochet and hit him. Maybe it would hit in Praxus. Maybe it would hit somewhere else.

"Tick, tock, fracker," she smirked.

"Miss!" gasped Camber. "Language!"

But her improved mood could not muffle a tingle of worry in her spark. If Thunderhoof was going after Praxus, that was because he was confident he'd succeed. Why?

So as you can see this is a bit of a different start to this mini-series. I'm planning on going and re-doing First Star as well. Like with the NotB rewrite, I'm gonna try to avoid splitting episodes into multi-parters unless they're actually multi-parters. I've also done a lot more pre-planning so stuff ties together more coherently.

This is just a starter taste for the rework. I probably won't mess with this much for a while.