I've GOT to finish this story! I've put too much work into it to let it die!
I know I said there would be more Smokescreen in this chapter (I also said I wouldn't mention CJ and had to go back on my word on that too), but I had to break it up. Maybe it's just me, but I feel like when I go over 7,000 words in a chapter, I'm rambling.
Thank you for your patience and feedback. As always, it is appreciated.
Her processor was too amped up now to recharge thanks to Miko, making it even harder not to think about all the ways Cliff would have been happy to clear up her processor and exhaust her spark into dreamless recharge.
Scrap.
Oh well. She used to work best at night anyway, right? They'd just made her switch to daylight hours because a Marauder and a Peterbilt tooling around town twelve hours a day might have raised some suspicions.
Skipping one recharge cycle wouldn't hurt anything, she assured herself even further. Not after that charge Ratchet had shocked back into her system anyway. It wasn't doing the kids any harm either, especially since the Cons were getting so brassy lately.
When she pulled up to the stop sign by Jack's house, his bedroom light was on this time, and a scan of the small house confirmed that Jack was in the shower. There was still residual heat from the car in the garage, meaning June had just left for work.
Arcee almost wished she could go for a ride with Jack right now. Her human partner was as bad (or as good as) her old one about noticing something was bothering her and making her talk about it and forcing her to think it through, then nagging her into doing the right thing while he was at it.
She thought about Smokescreen again. This was actually his shift to patrol, and she'd been looping around his route and avoiding him all evening because she had no idea what she should say to him. It was absolutely grinding her insides up being torn between protecting him from being hurt and giving in to temptation and fragging his relays out.
On second thought, Jack wouldn't know what to tell her. Like her teammate, the human boy was too good natured and innocent to believe a pretty girl could use him and was perfectly willing to let her walk all over him. Primus. With any luck, this whole messy business would be over with by the time Miko was on speaking terms with Jack again.
Satisfied for now, Sadie put it in gear and was about to pull away from the intersection and start her circuit over again when Arcee thought she felt something niggle at her sensors.
Probably just a raccoon in the trash or another peeping Tom. It wouldn't be the first time something so mundane had triggered her sensors, but if she was making the effort to do an extra patrol, she might as well be thorough.
Most of the other vehicles on the street had been cold for hours. None were emitting spark signatures. All of the humans around were in their beds except for Jack, a couple insomniacs looking at porn, a female with the flu, and five males in the church parking lot down the street. She'd thought they were talking in their cars before going home, but on second glance, their glowing thermal images were all sitting in one vehicle – a carpet cleaner van. It appeared to have been cold since the heat of the day had passed.
No one was in the building, and the security alarm was armed, but most disturbing of all was that they had an infrared camera of their own pointed at her. Sadie didn't have a heat signature.
Scrap.
Arcee to base. I've got a situation, she reported over the team-wide commlink. Wheeljack? Bulkhead? Are you still close?
Negative, Wheeljack answered, bored. I'm on monitor duty tonight. Remember?
I'm over by Miko's, Bulkhead volunteered. Ten minutes out.
I'm close too, Smokescreen reported.
Do not engage, Ultra Magnus ordered unnecessarily in Optimus' place. Prime and Bee must have still been out scouting another energon signal. Stay out of range until Arcee can assess …
Another van was approaching from down the main road, and a city maintenance truck from behind her.
Things are going to slag quick, she assessed, pulling into the Darby's driveway.
Her heightened audio receptors picked up approaching helicopters now.
"Jack!" She opened his cell phone frequency directly, activating the speakerphone at maximum volume. "Get out of there!"
"I'm opening a groundbridge in the garage," Wheeljack cut into the phone call.
Arcee watched the three vehicles converge on her position. Neither side's cover had been blown yet, so she could only hope the humans were as hesitant to give up their disguise as she was.
"What?" Jack finally answered from the shower. It sounded like he'd fished his phone out of his pants pocket. "Seriously?! Haven't you guys tortured me enough for one night?"
"This isn't a game, Kid. Get your aft to base," Wheeljack snapped.
"Yeah right. I said I was sorry already!"
Frag it. Of all nights for Ratchet to be off duty.
"Jack, get out of there. We're serious this time," Bulkhead added.
Arcee, standing sentry at the front of the house now with all her sensors at maximum input, heard a van door slide open. When she looked, four men were approaching her quickly with some kind of weapons at the ready. Desperate, she began flashing her lights and turned on the loudest, most annoying car alarm she could find and sent a burst of energy to every car parked on the street and the church burglar alarm for good measure. But, all her efforts only worked to make her attackers move faster.
"What's going on out there?" Jack asked, finally beginning to suspect this might not be a prank.
"Jack!" she finally vocalized. "Go!"
She screamed as a jolt of electricity crackled through her circuits painfully. Alright, if they wanted to play that way, the gloves were coming off. She shifted to her root mode, blasters out and set to stun, but if she'd been counting on sending them screaming from the giant alien robot, she was disappointed.
When she spun to face her attacker, another jolt came from above her, only this one was a familiar surge grenade, and it pierced her armor her beneath her winglet, paralyzing the femme completely and sending her processor reeling.
"Arcee?"
She could still hear Jack on her commlink, though she had to fight to keep her systems from going into stasis.
Don't come out. Please, don't come outside, she begged him mentally.
"Get out NOW! That is a direct order!" Ultra Magnus barked. The SIC wouldn't be in on any joke.
"I'm moving!"
The men were standing over her now, working quickly and efficiently as they covered her body with tarps and straps. The weapons, the fact that they knew what to expect, the helicopter lowering its winch – M.E.C.H. But, how?
"We've captured the objective," one of them announced to his communicator.
"Not yet, you haven't. The big green one's energy signal is coming in fast. The other males won't be far behind, so move your asses!"
On cue, Arcee heard Bulkhead's tires screech around a corner. From the sound of it, he'd disengaged his governor and was moving faster than most Earth racing vehicles.
There were sirens in the distance. People were coming out of their houses to see what all the commotion was about.
Somebody warn Fowler he's gonna have some serious clean-up to do tomorrow! Bulkhead commed before she heard the unique sound of his transformation sequence and the screech of heavy peds on pavement. He crashed through the vehicles with his wrecking ball in a hail storm of metal, plastic, and broken glass. He wouldn't intentionally harm any humans, but he could put on a pretty convincing show.
Most of the M.E.C.H soldiers scattered for cover, but Arcee saw the man with the grenade launcher take aim from the helicopter that was trying to quickly pull her up. She couldn't warn him.
Then, astonishingly, the launcher missed its mark. No, wait … she realized it went through the Wrecker, and Arcee recognized the sound.
Smokescreen leaped from the ground beneath Bulkhead's peds as the man was getting over his shock and confusion. He bolted across the street and up the drive without leaving as much as a scuff mark in the sandy soil. Arcee felt him hit her solidly enough and the winch cables phase through her as Smokescreen tucked and rolled with his armload through the Darby's living room and kitchen and back to his peds in the alley behind the backyard.
All clear, Bulkhead!
Copy that! I'll keep them off your tail.
Smokescreen slung the limp femme over his shoulder and pulled the projectile off of her back. Her articulators spasmed excruciatingly.
Jack? Is he … okay? she demanded in the brief window of clarity.
He's fine, Smokescreen assured. Wheeljack confirmed he made it to base.
The mech adjusted her weight a little more comfortably, and ducked into a shadow as another helicopter flew overhead. It sounded like the entire town was awake now.
Her processor felt like it was spinning in her helm.
You okay? Arcee?
Surge … grenade. My systems … are … slowing down.
He checked around the corners and sprinted to the next hiding place in total silence.
Wheeljack's got a groundbridge warmed up as soon as Fowler clears a location, he told her as she felt his energy field take control of hers. In any other situation, it would've felt invasive, but it was the only way he could keep her energy signature cloaked with his when she finally went into stasis. Just relax. I got you.
She was safe.
She was safe.
Was that the last or the first thought in her processor before the pain kicked back in like a pile driver?
Arcee groaned as her systems came out of recharge reluctantly. It felt like Metroplex had stepped on her then tried to scrape her off the bottom of his ped on the edge of a transit way.
"Good morning," Ratchet greeted, coming into her line of vision. "Or more like afternoon, I suppose. How are you feeling?"
"Everything hurts."
"Good. That means everything works."
Sometimes the medic's dazzling optimism could bring tears to your optics.
"Your sensory systems are recalibrating now that you're back online. You'll start to feel normal shortly."
"Frag," she vented, clutching her aching helm. "How long was I out?"
"The better part of a day. But, that's normal given the nature of the damage," he explained. "Don't sit up yet; I'm still finishing up your coolant flush."
Her fingers found the lines connected to her. If Ratchet was using this opportunity to catch up on all the maintenance work she'd been avoiding, it was probably a good sign everything would be fine.
"It was M.E.C.H." she said, remembering she had to tell someone. "Did they find them?"
"Fowler is looking into it," he explained, disconnecting the lines. "They've been following a few leads, but nothing solid has come of them yet. Just like before, they've vanished without a trace."
He offered his servo for her to pull herself up. The pain was fading slowly, and her self-diagnostics were beginning to come back with satisfactory system checks.
"Do they need me?"
"Not badly enough to get you out of my med bay this soon," he said pointedly.
Well, it had been worth a try at least, she thought glumly as she slid off the table to her peds. She felt a little wobbly, but hopefully she could still get out of here before Ultra Magnus came in to get her report – her full, correct, proofread, report – all fourteen sections of it.
Arcee stretched the kinks out of her joints, transformed back and forth a few times, and ran her fans at max speed until a shiver ran through her, hoping for the wild chance she could convince Ratchet she was fine. The medic didn't seem convinced, so she was stuck with him for another evening while the mechs got all the action.
Or, that's what she assumed until she heard the sound of screech-metal (or whatever the kids called it) and heavy tires driving around to the front of the hangar.
Bulkhead pulled in and stopped in front of the scout and medic. Miko hopped down from the SUV, carrying her backpack and guitar case and made straight for the platform without a word to either of them. Arcee looked up at the girl's guardian questioningly as he finished shifting to his peds.
"You doing okay, Cee?"
"I'll live," she said but winced when she shrugged. "Thanks for the backup."
He smiled down at her. "Couldn't have another psychopath wearing you like a Halloween costume."
Arcee watched Miko climb the stairs to the couch in a sulk. When she looked back at him, Bulkhead cast her a silent, pleading look before the groundbridge opened up for him.
"Optimus say no dance?" she asked, rotating her shoulder joint again.
Bulkhead shrugged. "Didn't say anything to me about it," he said theatrically, dropping the hint so hard and obvious that Arcee cringed a little. "But, I gotta meet up with Bee and Jackie for a mission with Fowler. Miko said she'd rather be here."
Could you talk to her? Please?
Seriously? Didn't we do a terrible enough job at this the first time?
Please, Arcee?
No! She shook her helm at him firmly.
Let Miko sit and stew; it built character. Arcee was a stellar example.
The Wrecker glanced between her and Ratchet one more time hopelessly then finally surrendered and drove into the bridge. Feeling Ratchet's attention on her, she looked away from the now-blank wall to him. He didn't know what to do any more than she did, but his optics flicked to the girl tuning her guitar and back to the femme in awkward silence. He shrugged toward Miko expectantly.
Arcee vented a sigh, rolling her optics, but gave up and turned on her heel.
"Miko?"
Of course, the girl didn't look up from her instrument.
"I thought you were going to the club tonight."
"Too dangerous," she explained.
"Uh huh … when's that ever stopped you?" Arcee asked doubtfully, leaning on the railing.
"Fine. Jack and Sierra are going. Happy?"
"So? Go with your friends like you told him. You don't need him to have a good time."
Miko finally lowered the guitar and met Arcee's optics.
"I lied, okay? Sierra's right. Everyone at school thinks I'm a freak and treat me like it's contagious. I'd rather just stay here."
Arcee wished negotiations and diplomacy were as easy as just shooting at whatever you disagreed with. Did she attack Sierra in Miko's defense or pretend to be more concerned with something other than Miko's deep blue funk? It didn't really make any difference. The girl was just looking for something to disagree with to make herself feel in control.
"You mean to tell me no one's watching Jack after all this slag with M.E.C.H.?!" Ratchet asked to both her and Miko's surprise.
"Really?" Her tanks churned at the idea.
"I guess everyone assumed since you were the primary target, Jack's involvement was just a fluke," he concluded with exasperation. "I swear, sometimes none of you can see past the end of your plasma cannons. I'm clearing you for duty," he decided. "VERY SELECTIVE duties, I'll add. You should go monitor this … this 'club' or whatever."
Arcee couldn't believe her audio receptors.
"STRICTLY low-profile though!" he added. "Backup won't be minutes away this time if something goes wrong. Do you still have your holoform on standby?"
"No. I … stopped using her after we lost …"
"Right; that's right. I remember. Load up the program again before you go, so I can run a quick diagnostic."
"Holoform?" Miko asked. "I thought you used Sadie all the time."
"Sadie's a projection," Arcee clarified. "I use her because it's faster and I don't have to transfer my awareness out of my root form."
Arcee transformed to her wheels and searched her files for the command prompt and the anatomy profile they'd all collected and pooled since arriving to Earth. Miko watched from the railing, too curious now to mess with keeping up her bad mood.
Finally, it finished writing the line of code, and Arcee felt herself power down into what almost seemed like recharge mode. Tiny ports housed in her vents opened, admitting trickles of silvery nanites. She'd watched the others load up their holoforms many times. To any human who'd watched the Terminator movies, it wasn't that far off.
Slowly, she became less aware of her wheels on the ground and more attuned to just the five human senses. At last, her optics onlined to the oddly foreign sight of her handlebars and instrument panel. No, her eyes opened, she corrected herself. She blinked a few times to calibrate the organic pupils to the light and to let her nanites moisten the squishy-feeling balls rolling in their meaty sockets.
"That … was the coolest thing I've EVER seen," Miko stated.
Ratchet had been right. Her armor class and personality integers would always generate the same outcome. The skin on her hands and arms and down her legs – even the tops of her feet and across her shoulders and down her spine was still heavily spattered with the little melanin deposits that Fowler had called freckles. Her feet still couldn't touch the ground from where she sat on her alt mode, and the same dappled round face and large steel-colored eyes looked back at her when she adjusted her side mirror. Nothing had changed about her at all.
"Holy crap! You look just like a real human!" Miko was almost bouncing in place.
"As far as your medical equipment is concerned, she IS a human," Ratchet put in, kneeling to sweep his scanner over Arcee. "Right now, the only thing that might give her away would be an unexpected bone density screening. Even that can be adjusted to within normal parameters."
"So, she can eat and get sick and drunk and feel stuff and …"
"Yes," Arcee said, the vibrations in her neck and the sound of her voice coming from both sides of her audio – ears – startling her. "Everything you can do … um, including feel cold," she reminded, hugging her bare breasts and looking up at Ratchet. She didn't remember the itchy sensation along her lower back and stomach though.
"Will she have to go shopping?" Miko asked, more than a little hopeful.
"While she could," he vented with practiced patience, offering Arcee a blanket out of his subspace. "It will be easier and faster if she re-downloads the textile catalogs."
She watched for a few precious silent moments as Ratchet checked her nanites reaction time.
"So … why do you look, like, twelve? Aren't you a bazillion years old?"
"I'm not a 'bazillion' years old," she stated firmly. "And, she's not twelve. Everything's fully matured. I'm just very … petite."
"We can't choose what our holoforms look like." Ratchet explained without looking up. "It's based on thousands of variables. Her frame is small; it's part of her function. So, her holoform has the same advantage. Other than that, the program is driven by the native species' psychology to blend in and come across as … er … 'trustworthy' I guess is the best word for it."
"So everyone has one? Bulkhead has one?! No one told me?!"
"We're not very fond of them. They're messy, impractical, inefficient, with a very limited range …"
"And, Shockwave invented them," Arcee concluded for the prideful medic. "They're weapons."
"Of the worst kind," he added. "The Decepticons have used them to destroy and enslave thousands of sentient races without ever firing a plasma round."
"So, it's Optimus who isn't fond of using them," Miko summarized glumly.
"Well, they have some uses. Case and point," he said, waving a servo towards Arcee. "But, you are correct. It stresses most Autobots' morality protocols. Optimus can't even use the program."
"Because it's against Prime rules?"
"Not just because they're immoral. He told me there's something about his spark or the Matrix that glitches the program. I doubt Shockwave planned on a Prime using it. Arcee can you please get comfortable, so I can finish this scan?"
"Something itches!" she defended, finally allowing herself to rake her fingernails over her skin like instinct was telling her to. It was deliciously satisfying.
The medic scanned the area.
"I … see. It will fade momentarily," he assured. "You're recycling some decommissioned nanites."
"Decommissioned? What do you mean?" It took nothing short of smelting to destroy nanites.
"I mean …" he stressed, glancing toward Miko ever so subtly. "Someone else's must have rubbed off before they lost the signal."
Arcee digested what he'd said a moment, then she was pretty sure all the freckles disappeared, her skin heated so hot.
"But … I didn't … Cliff wouldn't …"
Arcee had never used a holoform before Earth. Cliffjumper, on the other hand, had been fighting Cons with their own invention vorns before she'd been thought of. He knew how to use them far better than her. Ratchet never would have had reason to look for them. Arcee wouldn't have known about them unless Cliff had told her – or another mech's holoform who'd bumped into them.
While he'd been online, his nanites in her system would have been a bold "TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT' sign. It had not been part of their arrangement.
She suddenly wished she could recall her nanites back to their holding tanks and the security of her alt mode that couldn't cry or blush or show in any way how infuriated she was with the dead mech.
"Anyway! Jack's not watching himself," she redirected. "How about those textiles?"
"What about her bike?" Miko asked. "I mean, M.E.C.H. knows what she looks like, right?"
"A good point," Ratchet agreed, touching a data node hidden beneath her headlight. "You could reverse your paint scheme."
"No," Arcee said, pulling the blanket off before slipping down from the seat but being careful not to break contact with herself completely. "As much as I know Miko would love driving a pink motorcycle around, I don't think that would be very low profile."
Arcee found a tolerable cotton blend and began cycling through some underwear, ignoring Miko's embarrassment. Might as well settle for an underwire since mammary glands were so important for making an impression, and hers needed all the help they could get.
"You could always borrow mine," The medic offered with a smirk as he pulled up a list on his scanner. "Or," he added before she could scold him, "I have Smokescreen's old color scheme backed up."
Double 38s and racing details wouldn't look out-of-place on a bike, but she'd never be able to face him again if the mech saw her.
"What about Bee's old paint? I've seen a lot of yellow bikes around."
Ratchet shrugged, tapping a new command in. "Personally, I think Smokescreen's paint would look good on you," he said with careful indifference. Arcee didn't need her energy field to know he was humming with amusement.
"Noted," she managed to say levelly. "But just humor me. Please."
The code sequence transferred, and she watched as her plating's photo nanites shimmered from pink and blue to black and yellow. It honestly made her cringe to change her paint, but at least she could stay in her comfort zone with her holoform. She'd never understood human fashion, but she browsed some young adult retail sites and college brochures and settled on a short, ruffled denim skirt and camisole with a cropped jacket that showed off the appropriate percentage of skin for her age.
"I think pink would look better," Miko said.
"Why do you care?" Arcee smirked, producing two pink acrylic combs to put her dark brown hair up. "I thought you wanted to stay here – where it was safe."
After a thoughtful moment, Miko finally sighed. "Fine. I'll go. But, only because you'll be lost without me."
Fortunately for Arcee, humans couldn't process more than a few sensory inputs at a time with much efficiency. Otherwise, she'd have been overwhelmed by the lights and noises. This body automatically tried to tune out whatever she wasn't paying attention to, but it was still hard to understand what Miko was saying to her from the seat right beside her at the table.
"So, what should we do?" Miko asked, pointing to Jack and Sierra – and Vince – at a table by the almost-empty dance floor.
Both Sierra and Krista seemed oblivious to either of the two boys in favor of chatting up a stranger sitting beside a bored Jack. The guy didn't blatantly stand out from the throng of high schoolers, but he was undeniably older than anyone else. Maybe he was a student from the university home for a visit or a soldier off duty.
Or, Arcee thought suspiciously, one of M.E.C.H's goons here to spy on Jack.
"Dunno," she said absently before looking back at Miko. "Do they have rectified spirits here?"
If she had to sit in a smog of teenage hormones and pounding music all night, at least she could deaden it with the pleasantly fuzzy feeling alcohol brought to her nanites.
"Say what?"
"Concentrated ethanol – it's the closest you humans have to energon."
Miko still shook her head at a loss.
Frag it. She'd never ordered her own drinks before; what had he called it?
"Everpure … no, EverCLEAR. That's it."
"Probably not on Student Night," Miko deadpanned. "Any other ideas?"
Arcee shrugged. All the kids here didn't seem to know what they'd come here for either. Most looked like they'd gotten all dolled up just to sit around nursing their 7-Up and trying to convince themselves and their peers that they were having fun.
"Wanna dance?" she finally suggested.
Miko scoffed. "I don't dance. Besides, I've got it hard enough at school."
"Oh come on. I haven't danced in vorns."
"And, it wouldn't be weird with another girl?"
Arcee had to laugh.
"Not at all! Femmes make the best dance partners since we're all the same size. Dancing with big clumsy mechs is a good way to get stepped on."
Miko eyed her doubtfully.
"It's art!" Arcee defended. "Femmes just did it for fun and to look pretty – and it beat singing and poetry and whatever else by a long shot. I hated that slag."
"Fine. If by some wild chance they play Slash Monkey, I'll get out there and thrash."
Arcee rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Come on!" she insisted. "You humans don't realize how great your music is."
"Shouldn't we be watching Jack and Sierra?" the girl redirected.
More like just Jack now. To his and Vince's annoyance, the stranger had picked up another girl's attention, and they were trying to get him out on the dance floor a little more relentlessly than Arcee had with Miko. He looked reluctant to leave Jack, but the boy finally shooed him off.
If M.E.C.H. had wanted to keep tabs on Jack, they shouldn't have sent a teenage heartthrob into the thick of a school dance.
He was taller than he'd looked sitting down and even more so surrounded by the cheerleaders vying for his attention. He seemed overwhelmed by it and nervous even though he was still smiling.
"Jeeze, haven't they played this song to death?" Miko groaned when the DJ tied in 'Safe and Sound.'
Arcee thought it was a good song. Humans needed to try listening to the same songs on the radio for a few hundred years at a time.
The stranger brightened at the song and edged his way out of his entourage to the vacant center of the floor. Humans had a solo dance for this kind of music. 'Broken dancing,' was it? Something like that. Arcee had known a guardsmech named Jazz who would've loved it and probably been a Force given his sense of rhythm and after watching a few competitions on YouTube.
M.E.C.H.'s guy wasn't bad. Maybe even good, but that only convinced her even more. His muscle control and balance were too much better than a regular Joe off the street. He'd have had to have been a martial arts master, gold medal gymnast, and yoga instructor to pull off the moves in his repertoire. But, the students loved it and crowded around to watch.
"Who's the underwear model?" Miko asked, trying not to look as enthralled as her classmates by the guy's too-tight tshirt and the admittedly impressive frame it showed off when he began to sweat.
"I've never seen him around town," Arcee said suspiciously. "Might be just the guy we're looking out for."
"I didn't know M.E.C.H. had guys like that. He could abduct me any day," she grinned.
"Miko! I'm serious."
"So am I," she continued to tease.
Some remix of a song called Midnight City began as the last song faded out. Arcee recognized it from Jack's MP3 collection of techno and electronic music. She'd joked about how close to Cybertronian music it sounded.
"Come on. Let's get a closer look," she said, grabbing her companion's arm before she could protest.
"What?! You can't dance to this crap!"
"Sure you can. It's easy," Arcee assured as she spun Miko to face her. "It repeast every sixteen beats," she explained, holding up their hands and netting their fingers firmly so Miko couldn't escape. "I'll lead, okay? I dance for eight beats, then you repeat it while I dance the next eight. I'll keep it simple so you don't get confused."
If she could teach a mech how to do it, she could teach Miko – she just wouldn't mention that this was the most simplistic version of it that younglings played like patty cake. The girl fumbled a little at first, but by the second refrain, Miko had the pattern down and was ~gasp~ having fun. However, their game had earned everyone's attention, including Jack and the M.E.C.H. guy that she'd been trying to get a closer, discreet look at.
"Mech's can't do this?" Miko asked in disbelief over the music.
"Well, most of them can manage this much. Bulkhead might be the one exception."
The girl laughed as she stepped in close and they both turned away.
"It gets pretty complicated and most mechs just leave the hard stuff to the femmes," she smiled.
She hadn't been able to do this much in forever and forgot how much she'd missed it before the war.
"Complicated how?"
"Longer dance steps to memorize for one," Arcee offered.
She'd danced with mechs as good as her. Jazz, because he thought it was as fun as she did. Vaccine, because it was something classy, rich mechs were expected to know. Tracks, for pretty much the same reason, but also because he thrived on the attention and liked how her armor complimented his colors.
Miko would need a history lesson in Cybertronian culture, courting rituals, and energy field etiquette to understand maybe half of the subtle intricacies.
Frag. Here came Jack and his new best friend.
"Miko," he greeted. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."
Did he sound relieved? Made sense if he was the fifth wheel all of a sudden.
"Umm, who's … your friend?"
Uh oh. She couldn't say Sadie, or he'd know and it might tip off the M.E.C.H. guy.
"This is Sa …" Arcee jabbed her in the side, but smiled. Miko changed course mid-name, resulting in "Sammy. Samantha, but she goes by Sammy. How about your … buddy?"
"Oh," he looked up at the stranger. "Yeah … this is …"
"Ryan," the man introduced with a disarming smile that successfully neutralized Miko and any innocent female bystanders behind them.
Arcee wasn't buying what Mr. Tall, Sexy, and Delicious was selling though and barely tipped the corners of her lips up to be polite.
"Would you like to … I dunno," Jack shrugged. "Maybe dance? That looked like fun."
Miko crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "What about your date?"
Jack sighed. "Vince came back from vacation early, and … she was kind of crappy last night on the phone."
Holy Primus! Was Jack finally seeing the light?!
Arcee nudged Miko again.
"Go on. Have fun," she smiled. "I was going to go get a drink anyway."
Miko frowned at her backstabbing friend, but now she had to give in.
"Oh, and Jack's supposed to lead," she called after them.
"So you know Jack?" Ryan asked.
Too late Arcee realized she was alone with this guy and the center of every jealous adolescent female's attention. And, she remembered, Jack hadn't introduced himself.
"Not really. Miko just … talks about him a lot."
"Oh." He smiled again. M.E.C.H. must have made him practice it in the mirror, because Arcee could have very easily believed he was just a nice guy if she hadn't known better. "Are you Miko's tutor or something? You look about as out of place as I feel in the high school scene."
How had he aged her so well when she usually needed three forms of ID and a call from Fowler to prove she was old enough to sit in a bar? Arcee felt a flush of heat go to her cheeks at the thought of this man studying her more mature features for clues.
"Actually, she's been tutoring me. I go to the university and needed a Japanese tutor for my more advanced classes. I'm here because she just … needed a ride," she added honestly.
"Same here," Ryan volunteered. "I uh … work on base with Jack's mom, and his ride was too busy tonight."
Then he HAD to be with M.E.C.H! He was lying. She'd never seen him on base before. Though, he was wearing dog tags she now saw. They had been hidden under his shirt, and she could just make out their outline between the vague contours of his pectorals.
Wow! Who was googling mature features now, she thought, embarrassed by her weakness.
"You gonna get that drink?" he grinned, too knowingly. "I'd buy if you wouldn't mind the company."
Arcee blinked dumbly.
Okay, maybe she was a little attracted, but it definitely wasn't his blue eyes or his short rust-colored hair and goatee … no! No, it probably had more to do with the 'forbidden' thrill of the idea. But, Ratchet and Optimus would smelt her for taking advantage of a randy human.
"I … need to go to the … womens restroom … to urinate …"
If human females' reproductive organs reacted like her nanites, she didn't see how any of the species got anything done.
After leaving Ryan dumbstruck, she hid in a bathroom stall until the song stopped.
Miko and Jack were trying another song when she emerged, but at least Ryan was distracted by Sierra trying to get him to dance with her. Pit. Bulkhead hadn't been too far off about her. The man was being as politely neutral as possible toward Jack's 'date' and kept looking up to confirm Jack hadn't left.
She took a swig of Miko's nasty, fizzy, syrup water to cover looking away when he met her eye.
Then again … If he was with M.E.C.H., how better to keep a close optic on him and keep him away from Jack and Miko? She just had to get Sierra away from him now. But how?
She looked around for something to use.
"You wanna dance?" Arcee snapped her attention back to a boy that had approached her blind spot. Damn this body's week perimeter defenses anyway. "Looks like your friend ditched you too. Figured it couldn't hurt to ask."
She couldn't believe her bad luck. Vince shrugged at her like he didn't care either way. Maybe not bad luck, she thought smiling her most convincing learner's permit smile.
"Sure. Love to."
Vince grinned, taking her offered hand.
"You swing?"
Swing. She was vaguely aware of the concept from a data-dump Ratchet had given them on American history.
"Never tried it."
"You'll pick it up quick," Vince assured. "It's a lot like what you were doing with Miko."
He showed her the basics with the tempo of the song that was ending. Same concept – different count. But, it was definitely a dance meant for partners of the same size.
Vince was impressed with how fast of a learner 'Sammy' was, Arcee thought with amusement. He was right about it being easy to grasp, but she could see lots of potential for it to get elaborate, fast, and complicated.
Where had the bully/football captain learned an old dance, she couldn't help but wonder. And, he wasn't just good at it, he was real good. Arcee was having so much fun with a capable dance partner, she'd almost forgotten about her objective until her plan worked too well, and Sierra forgot all about Ryan.
Apparently, Vince could watch her flirt around, but when he found something else to do – and a prettier girl to dance with – she got jealous and sat and sulked. Vince seemed more than happy to ignore her until Ryan cut in at the end of the last song.
"Hey, Sammy." Vince glared up at him, but Ryan didn't seem to notice or didn't care. "Could you show me that dance you taught Miko and Jack?"
"Hey, Buddy. I was here first."
"No, it's okay," she intervened. "It looks like your girlfriend's needing some company now anyway."
Before Vince could argue, she slipped her hand into Ryan's arm and whisked him away with all the doe-eyed infatuation she could muster.
There. Jack was with Miko. Vince was with Sierra. All was right with the universe. Not too shabby for one night's work, if she said so herself.
"Sorry. It's just Sierra seemed really upset," Ryan apologized.
Arcee smirked. "That's really sweet of you."
She looked up at him again. He was more the size of dance partner she was used to anyway, she thought as the first beats of another Top 40 song called "Chocolate" began. If she bent just slightly, she would be in line to bite one of the nipples that was showing through his damn shirt.
Frag, was she THAT desperate? Now that she thought about it … Ratchet wouldn't have to discharge her. Maybe she could justify interfacing with him as 'pumping him for information.'
Arcee realized they were halfway through the song already, and she hadn't explained a thing. Ryan was leading, and she'd automatically followed. He was a faster learner too, apparently.
"So, you're from the base? What kind of work do you do?"
Ryan smiled, bending to her ear. "I think you've figured it out by now," he said, lowering his voice.
Arcee felt her nanites do their best impression of her blood turning to ice water and draining down her spine into her feet, taking her stomach with them. They knew who she was, and they probably had Jack and Miko in their sights already. Frag it!
If she dispersed her nanites now, the whole place would go into a panic, giving him and his cohorts even more of an opportunity to act. Besides that, if they knew what she was, chances were good they had her real body surrounded already.
"I have?" she purred, stepping closer. "I think you might be overestimating me."
Not surprisingly, he didn't protest shifting their dance closer, but his eyes widened and the scent of his pheromones changed significantly when she slipped her arms around his lean hips and her fingers into his back pockets.
"I kind of think you're underestimating me," he said.
Arcee flashed him a smile, tugging him against her closer still. Now, she wasn't taking advantage; she was exploiting a weakness.
"How did you figure it out?"
Whether he knew it or not, Ryan led their dance according to the pleasant pressure of her hips against his. What a waste, Arcee thought. The man felt like he would've been a very fun fit for her holoform's tiny frame.
"Spotting holos was part of my training."
Who'd trained them, she wondered, bewildered. Megatron? How many holoforms had he spotted before her for that matter?!
"Miko would have records if she was tutoring someone too," he added.
Maybe she had underestimated him. He'd apparently done his homework. So, her only option was to get out of the building with Jack and Miko, shut off her holo, and call for help. Losing Ryan would be the easy part. But, who knew what was waiting for them outside.
"Too bad. I was just starting to have fun," she said, freeing both hands to trace his arms down to the hands at her hips. "But, you caught me."
Ryan grinned triumphantly, but his victory was short-lived. Arcee had 'steered' him to the edge of the dance floor and an empty table. With all of her holoform's considerable strength and speed, she snatched up a pitcher of Coke from behind her and bashed Ryan upside the head with it.