Smoke and Mirrors, Secrets and Lies Chapter 2, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

"Man, what a crowd."

Raoul pushed back the hair that had come loose from the pony tail it usually was in and surveyed the last stragglers leaving the showroom. Security was ushering them outside, leaving the dealers and the tuning freaks alone. He glanced at the super-futuristic car next to his own. He ran an appraising eye over the smooth lines, the really nifty color scheme, the super-light frame, then turned his back on it with a shake of his head.

His own car was equally cool, just not some hybrid super-fuel-saving, eco-friendly vision. It was what he had made of it in years of hard work and saving every penny. Raoul had worked his ass off at his Dad's junk yard to get the car whatever it needed, whatever he could to keep it running. The car in turn had tried to become what Raoul envisioned it to be.

"You okay?" he asked softly when everyone was gone.

"It's different from the last show," was the low reply. "More people."

"This is LA. Wait until we hit New York. Then you get people."

A soft moan answered him. Raoul grinned.

At twenty-three he had made himself a name as the guy to go to when you wanted a really special car job done. Raoul did inside and outside tuning. He added small features or turned the car into whatever the customer wanted. Even if it meant the car looked hideous in his own eyes. The customer was king. His parents had given him the money to set up shop, believing in their son and his talent. That this talent had been honed under the tutelage of an alien robot… well, no one had to know.

Raoul knew people, influential car people, and it was how he had scored this show. He had tweaked two hot rods for the buddy who had gotten him here and he knew he owed that guy even more, even if G would never collect. He was a cool guy and he always claimed he had made Raoul what he was today: a friggin' car tweaking genius. Raoul never corrected him.

"One more day, then we're done. I've spread the word and we already have a good amount of interest in the shop. I think I can get a few contracts out of this."

Because Body Works, his very own car tuning shop, was the best of the best. He knew what he was doing, he knew what he could do, and he knew there was no end to the things he could offer. Ten years of growing up and working and living with an alien mechanoid that transformed into a car taught you a thing or two the normal mechanic didn't know. Raoul had been very quick to learn and Drift had, at first reluctantly, been a good teacher.

It had been Drift he had tried to steal ten years ago. It had been the most horrifying night of his life, trapped in what appeared to him like a demon car, and he had thought he would have to die. As it was, he had survived that night.

And he had become friends with a talking car. An alien, talking car.

Today Drift was very much part of his life and he didn't know what it was like not to be around him. The fear had made way to friendship and while he understood that the mech was a fugitive from his own people, had been running with the bad guys, Raoul also understood that people could change. His own life had changed and he had been close to the wrong crowd, too.

"I'll grab a bite to eat with the other guys," Raoul now said, patting the sleek and smooth hood. "You'll be okay?"

"Of course. Go. Have fun."

Raoul grinned, then left the show room. He flashed his dealers' badge and headed for the parking lot behind the exhibition area. It was where all the trucks were parked and where some of the other car nuts hung out. Someone had mentioned a barbecue and Raoul planned to grab some food, drink, and enjoy the shop talk.

"Yo, Raoul!" a middle-aged guy with stringy blond hair that always looked tangly called.

"Doug," he acknowledged.

Doug Messner was THE guy to go to if you wanted a very exclusive and unique airbrush done. He was an artist and a magician with his tools of trade.

"How's business?"

"Smooth," Doug replied, handing Raoul a beer. "Even if you don't look like you're old enough t'drink," he commented, nodding at the bottle.

Raoul snorted and took a long pull. He might not look it, but he was. The long hair and beard shadow never helped either.

"Good genes."

"Baby-face isn't good genes," another guy laughed.

"Aw, don't listen to those jokers," a red-headed woman called Melissa told him good-naturedly. "I like my men young and virile."

Laughter greeted that statement.

Raoul grinned and relaxed among his friends. Life was good. He knew who he owed it to and gave a silent toast to Drift.

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The first time they had come to LA Tony and Rodimus had met up with Jazz and Barricade, looking for the elusive mech whose signal they had picked up. They had searched for three days, the whole time the car show had been happening, but no signs at all. Barricade and Jazz had returned to Nevada whole Rodimus had stayed with Tony, on the look-out for the signal.

It had stayed lost.

The young Prime had enjoyed his time with his friend, but he had had to leave soon.

Tony had continued to look for the elusive mech, but until two days ago it had stayed lost.

The show room was silent and mostly dark. A few spotlights were still on, but after a while even those were switched off. Only the emergency lights remained. The crews had left, some hanging out among the trucks that had hauled their cars and parts here, drinking and catching up on how their friends and colleagues' had fared throughout the past months.

Tony Stark smiled to himself as he walked silently through the rows of cars. He hadn't put on his Iron Man armor yet, but he had already called upon Extremis to cover his skin in a sleek, black substance. There were a few 'nodes', reddish crystalline structures that gave him even more of a protoform look than simply the black outfit. Rodimus remained silent in his head, despite the open connection, scanning and waiting. It felt good to be on a mission again. He wasn't cut out for an office job. He loved his company, took pride in what Stark Industries stood for, but he just couldn't be the model CEO. He needed the kicks. He needed to do something other than place his signature under a contract. He needed to live.

He stopped in front of the BMW exhibit, admiring the white and blue Vision. It would fit perfectly into his collection and he made a mental note to get back to the BMW crew. He switched his gaze to the tuning facility next to it. It was a private auto shop, lucky to get a spot in such a prestigious show, and he probably had had some good connections bring him in. Or money.

The exhibit was a Ford Shelby GT. It was a black and silver model, aesthetically designed and colored, and the work the auto shop had done had been tasteful. Nothing over the top, but still enough to show that the mechanic had talent. Tony let his gaze sweep around the exhibit area, but he saw no one. Security was mostly automatic, something he and Roddy could easily fool, and the few remaining human security officers had already made their rounds.

The prickle of knowledge was back again. Despite the fact that they no longer picked up the signal, this was their target. He knew it. Like he knew where Rodimus was. None of the other cars felt like this one.

"Hello," he said quietly. "I know who you are."

No reaction. He hadn't expected one either. So Tony scanned quite openly. Rodimus had in the meantime left his exhibit area and transformed. The moment he stepped closer, the reaction of the unknown mech was quite intense. Actually, it was more than either had expected.

The Shelby transformed and launched himself at Rodimus, making him fall back, then he kicked out and had him on his butt. Tony had reacted without thinking, calling his armor from subspace, and fired his repulsors at the mech. The attacker stumbled back. He was a head taller than Bumblebee, sleek in design and build, and had a basic dark silver color. The armor had the black color of the car. Weapons weren't openly displayed and he didn't show any canons attached to his arms or back.

And red optics looked at the smaller opponent.

::Decepticon!::

There was no visible sigil that told of the affiliation, but the optics were a dead giveaway. Part of Tony had always been confused as to why the mechs made the difference in optic color to begin with – it was such a blatant hint as to whose side you were on – but that part didn't care right now.

Rodimus already had his gun in one hand and was aiming at the enemy, but the Decepticon was too fast. He dodged the first shot, which blew out a large screen that usually ran ad material for BMW, then toppled over the displays.

The young Prime gave chase, Iron Man hot on his trail. He armored human Prime overtook his friend and fired repeatedly at the fleeing mech, but he only managed to hit once and that only scorched one shoulder. He got a car thrown at him for his trouble. The eco friendly two-seater crashed into one of the hybrid SUVs, totaled itself and seriously scrapped the other. Before he could react, another object came his way, and when Tony evade, he received a blow to the side that nearly had him crash.

::Little shit!:: he breathed and fired at the Decepticon for his troubles.

Rodimus only grunted, trying to aim for their fugitive, but the mech knew what he was doing and he was doing it well. He kept completely out of the line of fire.

The Decepticon wasn't much larger or smaller than himself. He appeared to have been constructed for speed and maybe even stealth, not the front-line heavy-armor version of a soldier. He was fast, Rodimus had to give him that. Fast and agile and barely touching any of the exhibits as he fled. Rodimus was doing most of the damage trying to hit the guy. 'Trying' being the operative word.

::He's not getting out that way:: Iron Man sent via Extremis.

Rodimus wasn't fooled into thinking that no escape route equaled a surrender.

He was only too right.

He heard Tony curse as the Decepticon flung a banner at the smaller figure, trapping him briefly in the flexible material, and then shot back the way he had come.

The Shelby GT came Rodimus's way at break-neck speed, making no move to slow down. Rodimus aimed his gun at the approaching vehicle, losing a few shots, but aside from making him swerve a little, nothing much was accomplished.

Drift knew from countless battles that he had only one chance. He didn't know the Autobot trying to take him down, but he didn't need to. He simply took the direct approach, startling the Autobot. Drift transformed, using his momentum to kick out the legs from under his opponent, smiling grimly at the gasp of surprise. They crashed through the wall, showering the area with debris and crushing several cars under them.

Behind them, something exploded.

Blue optics flared and the gun came up, but Drift hadn't been trained by the best for nothing. He ripped the gun out of the Autobot's hands, then flung it away, simultaneously plunging a thin, long metal stick into the mid-section of his opponent.

Optics widened with pain, a wheeze escaping the other mech, and Drift stepped back. Information flashed over his optics, all the weak spots, all the strongly armored areas, all the points of impact, everything he needed to take this one down.

He took another step back, deactivating the program. He didn't want it, didn't need it, but it was so much part of him not even Raoul's work on him had changed that. It was who he had been, not who he was now.

"This won't kill you," he told the Autobot who was staring at him. "In a minute or two you'll be able to move and pull it out."

"Who are you?" the other hissed, voice filled with pain.

Drift shook his head. "No one."

The alarms ringing all around him were finally yielding results. The fight had lasted less than ten minutes and by now police, fire fighters and security were arriving. There was a fire eating away at the structure at the back and soon the whole thing would become unstable. So far the building protected both mechs from being seen, but the moment the helpers went around the back that would change.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and transformed.

He located Raoul, who had been ushered away by police and security. The crowd of humans who had still been in the area had all been either security detail or car guys. The latter were in shock. Their beloved machines were either crushed, burning or about to die another way. Drift felt with them, but right now survival came first.

He signaled Raoul's cell and the mechanic picked up.

"What the fuck?" he exploded.

"We need to leave, Raoul. Now," Drift only said, the quiet urgency in his voice shutting the human up.

"Where are you?"

He gave him his location and a minute later Raoul came running out of the fire-lit night.

"Drifter?"

"Not now. Get in. We have to go."

As they drove off, Drift smoothly changed his exterior to a different car and Raoul made a quizzical noise.

"I'll explain. Just… we need to get away. Now."

Raoul was silent for the rest of the drive.

tbc...