It was upon him that Soundwave was unleashed. Mirage had reconciled himself to a cassette escort, ruing the prospect of Rumble and Frenzy. However, the symbionts were 'on vacay cuz they had like a zillion shifts in lieu'. The Autobot didn't remark on their use of human vernacular, already assuming they did it because his field had crinkled in irritation the first time they had inflicted jargon upon him. Providing further reaction would only encourage them.

Soundwave almost certainly was owed recreational shifts for accrued extra duty but when a fidgeting Thundercracker asked him to chaperone, he had given a prompt affirmative. The Seeker was slightly soothed by the presence of such a reliable mech so Mirage left before his conjunx could fret himself into pacing.

On leaving the bunker, they paused at the road. They could walk to the market but the Host evidently did not intend to stand on his dignity. He transformed into his compact alt. Mirage caught him instinctively, staring at the little blue box for a moment before the cue clicked. He transformed around Soundwave and Tempest, and drove away sedately.

He would have liked to cut loose. He was a high performance vehicle even in Earth mode but the street surfaces weren't level enough for his low-slung form. So Mirage cruised and contemplated what he would scan if he switched to a Cybertronian mode. Combat upgrades and jury-rig repairs had rendered obsolete his archived specs for his original. Also, returning to an exclusively high caste alt was probably too much of a political statement.

If he wanted to stay a racer, he would likely have to scan a Neutral, which he found distasteful. There might be schematics available but that would require the assistance of a medic, who were overtaxed. Perhaps it was telling the Command trine had not reverted to tetra jet form. There could be personal reasons, Mirage considered as he wove through the haphazardly cleared streets. He'd ask Thundercracker.

As if conjured by Primus, at an intersection a sleek racer slid alongside and revved. The noble primly dimmed his lights. He was certainly not looking for competition or the companionship that often followed a high-spirited contest. He was transporting a sparkling plainly visible secured in his driver's seat. Soundwave was out of sight in his footwell but the 3IC could absolutely sense the other vehicle.

The glossy black car revved again, bouncing on their anti-grav clearly inviting a race before surging past him with a spray of sparks as their undercarriage scraped the road. They took a corner wide, drifting with skill and barely any loss of speed. Their rear lights strobed wantonly.

Mirage turned demurely to the left and drove away in the opposite direction without fanfare. He didn't want to create an incident. In ideal circumstances, he would have gone invisible and put some distance between himself and the impertinent speedster. Instead the noble wove through the side streets randomly keeping his engine quiet.

::stop here and transform:: Soundwave instructed.

Mirage stopped and transformed; there being a lot scored with regular cross-hatching edged by a low wall on three sides. A heavy-duty tarp shaded half of it and the scatter of benches. Two mecha lounged on a rug in the sun while a third, a dark Praxian with a worn purple badge and shiny Enforcer decals stood sentry by the road entrance. Barricade was broadcasting a peacekeeper IFF as though he had suddenly recalled how to be a cop.

Soundwave strode up to his comrade, had a brief exchange with buzz of comms Mirage could detect but not decipher, then indicated the noble with a jerk of his helm. Sharp red optics swept the Autobot with a passive scan before his gaze lingered on Tempest. The Enforcer smirked and a pop-up appeared in Mirage's communication HUD. He now had permission to loiter within the outdoor creche.

Quickly deleting the critique of Decepticon childcare facilities he almost made, the Towerling followed Soundwave into the lot. The texture made the ground grippy and secure, good for unsteady newlings. As parks went, it wasn't much but the couple waved to him and sent a ping with their designations, pronouns, and Neutral affiliation.

"Greetings, Express and Farlift." Mirage spoke in Neocybex, responding with his own designation and Autobot faction tag. He waited while they waited on the Host's introduction. Without speaking, Soundwave walked away to stand with Barricade.

"Well, that's friendly." Express, an orange and teal light hauler, remarked with a long-suffering vent, which told Mirage the Neutral had no notion who Soundwave was. That meant they had minimal contact with Cybertron for the duration of the war. The 3IC was one of the few Deception command cadre without a Galactic Council warrant against his designation. Whether that was information hygiene or ethical conduct, opinions varied. Starscream's Galactic Council bounty was in the respectable billions. Rumour had it the last hunter to make an attempt had ended up in a black hole.

"He is trying to be a considerate chaperone." Mirage excused, taking a seat on the edge of the mat. He set Tempest down, shrugging off the sling to be ready to ambush swaddle the seekerling should he launch himself at anyone.

"Oh they are adorable." Farlift, a green convoy class mech, pitched his vocaliser in a soft, sweet tone. He opened an abdominal cavity, thin armour folding away like a cowling. From the interior cargo space, two sparklings toddled out. They were about twice the size of Tempest and stocky with it; chunky little trucks, miniatures of their creators. They pinged a general greeting without filters. Torsion and Springload, juvenile mecha, creations of Express and Farlift. Registered in Caminus, which was an interesting detail.

Registered, not resident or citizen. The Camiens had not welcomed refugees for more than half the war and showed no sign of softening their stance. The Autobots had sporadically appealed to them for help or non-affiliated compassionate relief and had been rebuffed by the Mistress of Flame every time. Mirage believed the Decepticons had received the same treatment, with the added threat of huge mecha wrath.

"An unusual mod." The spy remarked with a nod to the convoy's chest, not lingering in a look. He didn't want to be taken as ogling. Their fields flickered with momentary confusion at his frame language. Nods were human gestures, Mirage belated recalled. The noble was dismayed at his slackness. He hadn't realised he had picked up bad habits. Well, not bad perhaps but certainly unwanted. At least it had worked. The pair were a touch unsure what he was trying to convey but not offended.

"I feel like a Host when they're rattling around. It'll be fun when they find their T-cogs." Farlift chuckled. "It was an easy refit. Lots of us opted for it to be safe on hired transports." His answer was labouriously casual but Mirage heard the grinding years of travel, the slog of packing, moving, changing, leaving places no longer home, not even with the soothing pattern of migration. Just shift, shift, shift as though their whole existence was a transformation.

The bigger sparklings approached Tempest confidently beeping. He hissed. Torsion mimicked him in response while Springload honked, loudly, before both plopped themselves down on the mat facing the little jet. The seekerling looked over his shoulder at Mirage. Evidently he was boggled as to what to do next.

"Look what I have." Express produced a malleable ball from his subspace and shook it. The bright yellow sphere rattled then lit up. He gave it to Torsion, who waved it around making a variety of noises (the ball and the mechling) before offering it to Tempest.

Who, in the spirit of Decepticons everywhere, took the ball and refused to give it back.

Mirage glanced towards the Cons at the edge of the lot lest they intrude before equitable accord could be brokered. Barricade and Soundwave were speaking to a lean black mech with distinctive helm finials; shiny and built for speed. They apparently were not paying the creche much attention or were doing a passable impression thereof.

"Tempest, we share toys." Mirage chided firmly, turning to the problem in front of him. He did not try to pry the ball away from the seekerling as he did not wish to be bitten but he did play dirty. The noble pulled out a plush stuffed toy. It was, of course, a plane though a commercial passenger aircraft not a jet. Whoever had found the ridiculous thing had evidently located a trove. Tempest had several. This one was medium blue like his Carrier.

Mirage gave the cloth plane to Springload, who cuddled it with a cheerful honk. After a squeeze or two, he cooperatively gave the toy to his sibling. Torsion hugged the soft toy and beeped merrily as it squished. Then both little trucks looked at Tempest. They knew how to share.

Tempest, still holding the ball, grabbed the plane. Torsion didn't let go. The seekerling hissed and flared his wing buds, which Mirage let him do only intruding when the sparkling lunged forward to bite. Intercepting the bitlet caused even more hissing and scratching and then an audial-piercing shriek. Deftly, the noble wrapped up Tempest in his sling until he was fully cocooned. Tiny crimson optics glared furiously.

"We are going to sit quietly for a breem." Mirage informed his fosterling, who replied by trying to chew his way out of the swaddle. Torsion proffered the plush plane. "Thank you, but you may play with it while Tempest is in time-out." The noble retrieved the light-up ball from where the seekerling had dropped it. "Here, bitlet. We share toys."

A shadow loomed over the group. The little trucks looked up, way up, at the dark blue mech. Mirage looked up to meet Soundwave's optics. His red visor gave no hint, nor did field or stance. Torsion shook the ball, making a zany 'bong' then offered it to the Decepticon. Who took it gravely. And jiggled it until it whooped to the delight of the sparklings.