Chapter 1

Colors

-1-

-1-

The second star to the right and straight on till four millions years ago...

Nemesis shook and creaked under strain. Few Decepticons left behind on the battle ship watched the monitors with wide optics, completely paralyzed by fear - until Ramjet, who was the one with the least imagination, therefore least susceptible to the fear of unknown menace, realized what was going on, and gave Dirge a solid whack on the head. "Stop projecting, you moron!" he growled, and pushed himself toward the ship's controls. Thrust followed him, while Dirge moaned, gripping his head. He really hated when Ramjet did that, even if giving him a bad migraine was the best way to stop his uncontrolled broadcasting of subliminal, fear inducing sound.

By the time he made sure that no, his cranium hadn't been smashed halfway in, his wingmates pulled Nemesis out of the gravitational well and had her stabilized on a safe orbit. Having the important thing taken care of, they radioed Megatron for orders. To their slight surprise, the radio responded with silence. Ramjet felt gazes of his wingmates on him. He really hated when they did that. Just because he wasn't prone to panicking didn't mean he wanted to be the one making the executive decisions. It was a pain in circuits, often literally, if Megatron didn't approve of the results. But the pair of morons he was stuck with just stared at him and waited to be told what to do, and they could keep it up for eternity. He didn't want to be stuck here that long.
"Let's contact Shockwave," he said.

The first of Mondern, middle of first shift

The small space-bridge beeped and opened, spilling out a bunch of groaning Autobots. A mech recharging peacefully behind the desk jumped and looked at them with bleary optics.
"Hey!" he complained after a moment of staring at the moaning heap of bots on his floor. "This is an eight standard-size bots bridge! And you're supposed to chime in before jumping!"
The chorus of 'my gyros are killing me' quieted and he was meet with twenty two uncomprehending optics. A moment of confused silence passed.

Gaping at the strange bot, who had yellow optics and familiar in design, but wrong in color insignia on his chest, Sideswipe felt compelled to comment. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." It earned him a smack from his brother. "We weren't in Kansas to start with, dumb-aft." "It's a turn of phrase, glitch-stitch!"
"What?" The yellow-opticed mech automatically checked his computer, curious as to where in the galaxy a bridge station called -'can-zas' could be, and got a 'source unknown' message. He looked again at the bots who were gingerly picking themselves up, noticed the rather exotic frames, scrutinized the organic-looking green rubbish that arrived with them, and drew the only logical conclusion. "Stupid off-worlders! You used a home-made bridge station, and didn't even patch it in the system, didn't you?"

There was a massive turning of heads. A bot with funny-looking vocal indicators shifted uneasily under the attention. "Well, it worked, didn't it?" he said with a forced cheerfulness.
"Worked," the yellow-optics repeated with scowl. "You're freaking lucky I kept the bridge running, you'd have rebounded and ended up Primus knows where otherwise. What were you aiming at, anyway?"
"Ah," Wheeljack quickly calculated the pros and cons of telling the truth versus lying to someone who wore this kind of insignia, and settled on telling a half-truth. "Outsides of Iacon," he said. Yellow-optics made a disapproving grunt. "Well at least you got the planet right. But next time, fragging radio ahead and let the professionals do the math, ok? You could have arrived as a glop of molten slag, and I'd be the one to clean it, you know?"
"Oh poor you," Sunstreaker sneered. That insignia was making his fingers itch for a fight, even if it was green. Sideswipe obviously shared the sentiment, for he send him a text message. :'what u think? take'im down & ask q-s later?':
:'If he doesn't drop the attitude in two cycles', he sent back.

Unaware of the danger he was in, Yellow-optics typed few keys on his terminal. "You want me to toss you forward to Iacon, or are you staying here? T'would be two jumps, fifty credits per person, paid up front." He looked at them expectantly.
"Here is fine," Wheeljack decided quickly. Yellow-optics grimaced. "Thought so," he murmured, and rummaged on his desk for a stack of small plastic cards he pushed toward them. "Here. One for each," he said, and then he sighed, turned off his optics and started reciting in a dead-bored tone of a person who said that countless times before and didn't see much sense in it.

"Welcome to the fabulous city of Vos. The standard credit chips aren't compatible with Vos banking systems, so you are granted with Vos credit cards. You need to activate them and transfer to them credits from your regular account. After that they can be used in the whole Vos District. Err... what else? Oh. Unless you've arrived on a specific invitation or work contract, you can stay in the city premises for ten days. After that period your account will be charged with 40 credits for each day of your prolonged stay. To avoid that you are either to leave the city, or place a petition for citizenship. If you wish to became permanent citizens, you have to get at least quarter-time job. Anything else? Oh, yeah. While in the city walls, you are under Vos law regulations and jurisdiction. If you violate any regulations, you will be dealt with accordingly." He sighed and rubbed his neck. "Anything else?"
Sideswipe snorted. "You put all your spark in your job, don't you."
Yellow-optics scowled at him. "Hey, they pay me ten credits per shift. I'm not gonna overstrain myself."
"Guess 'ability to think' wasn't in job description, huh?"
"Oh har, har, har. Get out of my office. And the wash rack is just round the corner, we don't need off-world filth on the streets."

"Dude, that was unnecessary rude," Beachcomber murmured, as Skyfire, with amazing reflex and foresight, pushed both twins through the door and ushered the rest of them to follow.
The yellow-opticed bot looked after them gloomily. There they went, free as you please, and here he had to stay for the rest of his shift. He really hated his life. He was contemplating going back to recharge, when a small beep from the scanner reminded him of something. "Oh," he said sitting up, "and when you leave this office, your ID chips will be scanned and your names and energy signatures will be send to the main city network for convenience and security purposes," he said to the empty door.

The door barely slid shut behind them, when Pipes spoke. "Did you see his optics?"
"Did you see his sigil?" Beachcomber added.
"Yeah, I did," Sunstreaker growled, wrenching his arm out of Skyfire's grasp, and the next second Wheeljack found himself lifted of the ground and pinned to the wall. "Just WHAT did you do this time?"
"Sunstreaker, if you please," Perceptor stepped in to defend his colleague. "I hardly think Wheeljack is responsible for our predicament. I registered an unusual fluctuation in warp energy the instant his contraption was activated, and presumably it was this anomaly that caused our inadvertent translocation-" Sunstreaker dropped Wheeljack and rounded on Perceptor with a snarl. He was in a foul mood - he was filthy, low on energy, a bit queasy from the space bridge trip, and, above all, tired. He had came back to Ark from a double patrol shift, only to be sent away again as a punishment for whatever it was that Sideswipe did in his absence, only to be teleported to Primus-knows-where, with no recharge berth in sight. He was in no mood to endure Perceptor's know-it-all-ness. "I don't CARE what caused it," he hissed. "I want to know where the frell are we, and when are we going back." Perceptor took a startled step back, and Sideswipe decided it was time to intervene. "Hey, easy bro," he said, tugging at Sunstreaker's arm, at the same time sending :'Come on. Wash rack's round the corner. You'll feel better': on their private channel. It worked like a charm.

-1-

"There's nothing to worry about," the red Lamborghini said cheerfully, rolling back and forth under a stream of hot air. "We'll just board Skyfire and fly back home, just like you did that one time, right, Perceptor?"

"I'm afraid the current situation is exceedingly more complex," the addressed scientist said, polishing one of his crystal clean lenses with a worried expression. "I will require more sufficient data before drawing a final conclusion, however the brief encounter with that mechanism-"
"The color confused Decepticon?" Sideswipe specified. Perceptor looked at him, perplexed by the weird description, and Wheeljack decided to take over. "Yes, him. He mentioned Vos and Iacon, so I'd say we're on Cybertron, but..." he spread his hands helplessly, encompassing in this gesture their entire surroundings. Sideswipe nodded. "But it doesn't look like Cybertron. Not like it is now, anyway," he added after a moment, and all present understood what he meant. Both the 'office' they left not long ago and the washrack they were occupying at the moment had a definite cybertronish feeling to it - except for being a rusted, crumbling ruin, that is.
"So..." Beachcomber ventured after a moment, "do you think we traveled through time?"
"It is a possibility," Wheeljack admitted hesitantly. It happened before, after all - and he always suspected that the time machine Shockwave used to 'dispose' of Aerielbots was based on space-bridge technology. "But I rather think," he started, and was rudely interrupted.
"What I think," Sunstreaker said, tearing his hostile glare from a wax dispenser (contrary to more basic cleaning functions, waxing was apparently paid in advance, and the credit card they got, while very nice and shiny, were depressingly credit-less), "is that we should move, and before the bolts-for-brain back there realizes we shouldn't be here. Then we find a place to hide and rest, and then you can theorize all you want."
"You're a real ray of sunshine today, bro," Sideswipe muttered, transforming into a root mode.
"He is right," said a gentle, and slightly concerned voice behind him. "We should at least find a safe place where we can settle and think this over," Hound continued. He was perhaps the only mech beside Sideswipe who picked up on the 'rest' part of Susntreaker's tirade, and realized why exactly the yellow warrior was so irritable. So he decided to spoke up and, because he was Hound, they listened to him and two minutes later they were following numerous signs on the walls that promised to lead them to an exit door. The journey didn't took long. "Here goes," Wheeljack murmured, warily poking a locking pad.

And the gateway opened before them.
And they stepped out into the light.
And they beheld the fabulous city of Vos

And they stared.
And stared.
And stared.

"Oh, wow." Sideswipe finally commented.
"Do you think we hit the rush hours?" asked Hoist.

It was a typical vossian architecture, Grapple informed them, leaning over the barrier in a vain attempt to spot the ground. Iacon used to be known for its pyramidal buildings, Kaon for fondness for underground levels, and Vos for its inhabitants motto: if there's a free space, use it. And so a multitude of tall buildings was packed as tightly as physically possible, and since there was still free space left, every four floors a tangle of walkways, parkways, stairways and platforms hanged suspended between the buildings, marking a level. Looking up, they counted about eight levels under the grayish sky, and there were at least fifty more below them. And there were bots everywhere. A multicolored crowd bustled and hassled around them, and it soon became obvious that if the mech they met first was 'color confused', then so were all others.
"Did you see that guy?" Pipes' head rotated almost full 180, as he looked back at the mech already disappearing in the crowd. "His optics were black! He looked like a walking corpse!"
"He just shut them off for a moment," Sideswipe said, shrugging.
"No, he saw I stared, and he winked at me."
Sideswipe's optics flickered in a confused blink. "How could he wink if there was no light in his optic?"
"He shuttered it, just like humans do," Pipes said, and Sideswipe took a moment to contemplate the mental image. "Creepy," he eventually judged with a shudder.

The same color liberty seemed to applied to insignias as well. Every second bot they saw sported a badge with Decepticon 'foxface', but, what was curious, they seemed to come in every color of rainbow except purple. At least it meant that their own badging mostly went unnoticed. After almost two Earth hours of wandering, only about a dozen of bots noticed the boxy design of their insignias. In most cases it earned them annoyed, irritated or slightly disgusted look. Two cases were different.

"Look." Sunstreaker said suddenly, poking Sideswipe and nodding toward the opposite walkway. A medium sized bot just jumped halfway from the stairway to a walkway, earning few complaints from his startled neighbors. What drew to him Sunstreaker's attention though, was that he had a green 'foxface' on his chest - and a red Autobot symbol just beneath it.
"Now that's new," Sideswipe said, and poked Hound and Mirage. "Look."
The bot must have sensed a collective stare, for he turned to them, giving them a challenging glare that changed as soon as his gaze swept over their insignias. He grinned widely and raised a hand in a strange gesture - like a high five, but with tips of first and fifth finger pressed together. "Peace, brothers!" he called merrily, before stepping into the lift and disappearing out of sight.
"That was rather strange," Mirage remarked as they moved along.

-1-

The other encounter was radically different.
"Bunch of punks," an aggressive voice suddenly snarled. "You think it's fun to wear that mark, huh?" The bot who was speaking got right into Perceptor's face and poked him not too gently in the chestplate. "You even been there to know what it mean, huh? Huh?"

Before perplexed scientist could say anything beyond 'I beg your pardon', there was a sound o a few swift steps and the aggressive mech was yanked back.
"You got a problem, pal?" a small green and white bot asked, narrowing his optics. He had a dark blue insignia clearly standing out against his white chestplate, and his size and demeanor reminded the Autobots of Powerglide. One could wonder why the new arrival sought a quarrel with a bot twice his size - but only until one looked behind him and up, at his friend who was slightly taller than Skyfire, and observed the scene with a quiet scorn.
The troublemaker's optics flickered between the two of them, and he visibly wilted.
"It shouldn't be allowed, is all I'm saying," he mumbled, and walked away hastily, followed by a watchful gaze of the tall mech. The short one gave Perceptor once over, barely perceptibly scowling at the autobot mark. "You all right?"
"I'm functioning at the optimal parameters, thank you. I am grateful for your assistance, officer."
"Humpf. Whatever." The bot scrutinized the group of Autobots and turned to leave. "Just keep out of trouble, the lot of you."
"I assure that we have no hostile intention-" Perceptor started, and was stopped by a hand on his neck yanking him slightly back.
"Officer?" Sideswipe queried in an undertone near the scientist's audio.
"If you please..." Perceptor freed himself from the warrior's grip. "I believe I discerned a connection between the coloration scheme-"
"Color of the sigil marks the guy's function," Sunstreaker cut in rudely. "Green for pad-pushers, red for shopkeepers, yellow for city service and blue for law enforcement. You'd of noticed it too, if you used your CPU for five seconds, moron."

Sideswipe ignored the insult, which he knew was more of a mood indicator than anything else, and looked around. Yes, the color pattern was there, though he'd be damned if it was possible to spot without being told of it first. But then again, Perceptor was famous for his perceptiveness, and Sunstreaker always had an optic for little details like that. "All right," he murmured grudgingly. "So now we know to avoid the blue ones."
He turned, made two steps and discovered yet another thing they should avoid - namely shuttles flying over almost low enough to take someone's head off. With an expletive curse Sideswipe tumbled to the ground, took a second to gathered himself and his wits, and looked up just in time to watch as the shuttle, closely followed by fighter-jet, transformed in midair and landed on the walkway. Sideswipe felt all his battle protocols kicking on-line.
For a moment he was sure it was Astrotrain and Blitzwing, but no, it was another pair of pushy morons who happened to be hanging out together and wear purple. He only had a moment to register that, before two pair of hands were helping him up, Mirage maneuvering himself to block their both insignias from the Decepticons' sight, and Hound murmuring insistently in his audio that they couldn't draw attention to themselves. Geez, like they really thought he was dumb enough to start a fight in the middle of what looked like few millions of Decepti-spawn.
"All right, I'm cool," he said, wrenching himself free, all the while watching the Decepticons for any hostile moves, and was slightly offended that they didn't even look his way. Instead, their gaze skimmed over the neighborhood, accompanied by few derogatory comments, and then they strode away, sneering and pushing people aside as if they owned the place.
Few steps away, the familiar police-bots watched the pair of Decepticons, and the small one was talking into his comlink.
"... for units in sector H-3Q, there's a pair of high-ups heading your way."
-:Government or military?:-
"Military. They look bored and off-duty." A chorus of complaints filtered through the radio, and the police-bot smirked. "Have fun, slaggers," he said, cutting the connection. His colleague sighed. "You need to work on your social skills, you know that, right?"

Behind the constables back, Sideswipe looked at his brother. "Purple for royalty?" he offered.
"Looks like it," Sunstreaker murmured, hiding his weapons.

The first of Mondern, beginning of second shift

The yellow-opticed bridge operator walked out of the building, a scowl plastered on his faceplate. The guy who came to take over the second shift had thrown a fit over the mess in and outside the bridge, and forced him to stay extra few breems to clean it, the stupid slagger. If he wanted to mop the floors, he'd work in city service. And now he was late for the first race at the Nino Track. His life really sucked. Scowling even deeper, Yellow-optics started toward the nearest lift, and suddenly stopped. Oh damn, he'd forgotten to send the data from his computer to the city network. For about a second he entertained the idea of going back to do this. Then he shrugged and went on. His overzealous co-worker would surely do that anyway.

The first of Mondern, nearing the middle of second shift

Sideswipe was getting more and more worried with each passing hour. His stupidly proud glitch of a brother wouldn't admit there was anything wrong, but Sideswipe knew perfectly well that without a decent recharge and/or refueling, the golden warrior would soon shut down from exhaustion. But would he say even a word to hurry up the rest of them to find a place to rest already? Of course not. He'd just get more and more jittery and growly and all-over unpleasant, until he collapsed in the middle of the street. And guess who'd have to drag his sorry aft along when that happened? That's right, yours truly.
Sideswipe eyed the vending machine they were passing. It would be easy to hijack it and get some energon cubes... only there was a pair of cops standing quietly in the nook just few steps away. Frag it, they were freaking everywhere!
"Emergency ration, anyone?" a kind voice asked up ahead and Sideswipe looked up sharply, to see a very welcome sight of several black rods in Hound's palm. And even though the question was directed to the Autobots in general, the scout's offering hand was practically in Sunstreaker's face, bless his spark. For a split second Sideswipe worried that his brother would snarl something about not needing anyone's favors, but no, no-one was being rude to Hound. With a reluctant "Thanks" Sunstreaker took one rod and nibbled on it.
With a wide grin, Sideswipe rushed forward and grabbed three rations before anyone could beat him to it. "Hound, I could kiss you," he announced happily, making a show of gobbling half of a rod in one go. It tasted like old rust remover, but it gave a bot a nice energy boost, and that was what mattered. And now he had two and a half rations to smuggle to his brother at a later date. Hound just smiled knowingly, and turned to distribute the rest of his stash. Not surprisingly, Pipes was the only one to accept the offer - for the rest the unfortunate bridge-trip was their first working shift, not second or third.

-1-

"So are we going someplace particular, or are we just wandering around, hoping to find the yellow-brick road?" Sideswipe asked twenty minutes later. They were now standing on one of the numerous platforms, removed from the traffic just enough to give them some measure of privacy. Hoist and Grapple were observing with interest a nearby construction site, while the more nerdy part of the group crowded around a machine marked as a 'City Guide' in bold, bright letters. Wheeljack gave the red warrior a pitiful look. "I thought we should exit the city before taking any other action," he said, flashing a tired, pale blue. "But by the looks of it..." he waved at the 3D map on the screen, "we've landed downtown. It will take us hours to even reach the outskirts."
"So I'm stuck in the middle (of the city) with you," Sideswipe sighed theatrically.
"Sideswipe," growled a voice from the vicinity of his elbow, and he turned to see his twin, sprawled on a small bench, glaring. "If you don't stop with the obscure human references, I'm gonna crack your helmet open and delete them manually. It's not funny even when Jazz's doing it."
:'Good t c ur feelin better, bro.':
:'I'm not. Isn't there any motel in this goddamned, Decepticreep-ridden city?':
Sideswipe stared for a moment. "That's... a very good question. Wheeljack are there..." he frowned and waved his hand. "Nah, never mind." He looked around, pondered a moment, and started carefully peeling the red sigil off his chestplate. This immediately earned him undivided attention.
"Siders, what are you doing?"
"It's commonly known as blending in. I'll be right back," he said, and deftly slid down the handrail, landing half a level below, near one of the catwalks leading to the construction site.

There were about two dozen workers there, and by the looks of it they were on a break right now. Whether it was scheduled, or were they just waiting for the pair of supervising engineers to stop arguing was anyone's guess. The group of Autobots watched in tense silence as the red figure approached the loitering bots and started talking animatedly. For a few minutes the workers listened patiently, and then one of them suddenly gave a loud whistle - a universal, 'oy, everybody, come over here!' signal. And as his teammates responded, some of them climbing up from the lower floor, it became apparent that there were more than two dozen of them. Closer to fifty, in fact. And they all came to crowd around a very much lonesome Sideswipe. The tension among the watching Autobots could be easily measured in megabars. "Shouldn't we..." Pipes started.
"No," Sunstreaker said rather nonchalantly, though he, too, watched the scene like a golden hawk. "He's cool."

And sure enough, few moments later Sideswipe made his way back toward the catwalk. In the middle of it he turned and waved. "Thanks guys, I owe ya!" he called.
"Yeah, a hundred creds!" one of the workers called back with a laugh.

And just a few moments later the red twin was climbing up the stairs, a wide grin threatening to split his face in two. He hadn't looked so smug since the day the entire commanding stuff woke up painted various shades of orange, with no solid proof leading to the culprit. He wave a rather battered sheet of plastic. "This is called trash-card," he said happily. "Kind of like human banknotes. Can hold up to two hundred credits, we have ninety eight on this one. The vending machines are a spawn of greedy companies bent of exploiting the poor, run off their feet working class, and we should rather spare few breems to look for a regular energon store, and if we're really broke and desperate, then there's always the fountain on the main plaza - but don't ask what that means, I have no clue. And here's the really important bit o' city lore - the cheapest and least frequented motels are at the topmost level, and an uplink terminal is considered a standard furniture, so you can browse info-net all you want, while I catch up on my beauty nap."
"Whoa, wait!" Beachcomber looked disbelieving and awed at the same time. "Did you just talk a group of complete strangers into giving you money?"
"Lending, 'Comber, lending. Yep, I did. Now, ditch this guide machine and get your afts in gear. We have a date with topmost level."

The topmost level was composed of rooftops and relatively few houseblocks scattered here and there. The sky over it was not gray, but sapphire blue. It was also almost painfully bright, and the air was shimmering from the heat. Autobots' fans kicked in the high gear in the middle of the last ramp. "Phew," Beachcomber whizzed, doubling over in an almost human gesture. "Why is it so insanely hot up here?"
"Well," a strange voice answered brightly from somewhere above, "I'd say it's because it's high noon, obviously. Plus, some genius thought it would be funny to let a batch of retro-rats loose in the wiring, never stooping to think that they might chew out the whole freaking district - which they did - and with absolutely no consideration for the fact that your's truly is the only SC willing to scorch his plating up here, and I can only repair one lamp at a time. And who's asking anyway?" A medium size green bot perched precariously on the top of a lamppost leaned down to peek at them curiously. "You new in the district? Haven't been yelled at by you before." He scrutinized the Autobots' upturned faces and snorted. "Geez, blue optics, that's hardcore. Nice hue, though. Move away a bit, I'm going down."
And before any of them could blink, the stranger made a rather show-offish double flip, caught a loose cable and slid down to the pavement. Grinning just a bit smugly, he opened a panel on the lamppost and put his finger on a switch. "And Primus said..." he flicked the switch, "...let there be shade." At the top of the lamppost, two of four spheres buzzed with energy, and a cloud of greyness slowly expanded from them, enveloping the nearby streets. The rapid decrease in temperature was almost touchable. They could now look at the sky without putting on five layers of filter, and, without the skyscrapers to obscure the the view, they could easily spot the source of the heat. Or rather, sources.
"Two suns," Sideswipe murmured. "Bloody hell."
Sunstreaker wasn't amused. "Siders. I'm warning you."
The red twin grinned and patted the yellow one on the back. "It wasn't even a direct quote, and you still recognized it. I'm proud of you."
:'As soon as I have the energy to lift my hand, you are spare parts, bro.':
: 'I 3 u 2':

"WRENCHWRETCH!" Someone hollered from a block away. "Get your rear in gear and repair the slagging lamps already!"
"I'm working on it!" the green bot hollered back. The distant bot wasn't impressed. "Work faster! My goods are melting!" he called, and ducked back into his shop. The bot now identified as Wrenchwretch made a face. "That's gratitude for you. I'm already working unpaid overtime, and the slagger knows it." He unsubspaced a dark bottle and took a swing. Then he frowned and shook the container, in vain attempt to squeeze out few more drops. "And now I'm out of coolant. The day is just getting better and better." With a sigh, he chucked the empty bottle in the nearest recycle bin, and started toward the next inoperative lamp. "So where are you damaged, me beauty, and how long will it take to fix you, eh?" He tapped the diagnostic panel, and was rewarded with a shower of sparks and smoke. "That's not what I wanted to hear, babe."
Sideswipe saw it coming. It was in the hungry look Wheeljack was giving the dark 'lamps', and in incline of Perceptor's head; in the way Hoist seemed to be measuring the hight of the lamppost, and in the sympathetic look on Grapple's face.
"We don't have-" Sideswipe started.

"Would you mind if I helped you with that?" Wheeljack asked. Wrenchwretch looked over his shoulder, blinking in surprise. "Huh? What, you've got some good-willers quota to fill? No, sorry, that was rude. Sure, I could use a hand. Just don't expect me to pay for it." Wheeljack hurried to assure that no payment was needed, and seconds later the geek-squad was crowding around the CS, asking for schematics, removing the panels and generally making a lot of fuss.
"-time," Sideswipe finished. "And people say I have a short attention span. Do they even remember we're Primus-knows-when with no means to get back home?"
"Don't know, don't care," Sunstreaker growled, striding toward the gathering purposefully. He reached over Wheeljack, and hoisted the green bot by his neck. "Nearest motel. Where."
Predictably, Wrenchwretch flailed and pretested against his new position. "Ow, ouch! Watch it! Aren't you guys opposed to all violence?" Sunstreaker narrowed his optics threateningly.
"NOT after almost three full unscheduled working shifts," he hissed. The green bot winced sympathetically. "Ouch. Got you." He jerk his thumb. "Redcog's place. Crappy, but cheap, cheap but crappy. Two blocks ahead, one block left. A patched up shack that looks like something Devastator chewed up and spat out, can't miss it." Sunstreaker humphed something that might be interpreted as 'thanks', and let the smaller bot drop to his feet. Unfazed, Wrenchwretch continued. "If 'Cog doesn't answer the door, holler at him like it's a super-nova alert, and if he still doesn't answer, just let yourself in. He'll find you once he unplugs himself from the deepnet. Oh, and don't, under any circumstances, use the dispenser in the corridor. Unless you like purging your tanks, that is."
Since Sunstreaker was already stomping away, Sideswipe took it on himself to grin disarmingly. "Thanks for the heads up. To return the favor - you see this guy?" He pointed at Wheeljack, who immediately put on undignified look. "Don't let him near anything that might explode, even a soda can."
Wrenchwretch snorted. "Soda don't explode, you know."
Sideswipe nodded his head solemnly. "We thought so too. Alas, poor Swoop..."
"Huh?"
:'Siders, do you have a death wish?':

The first of Mondern, end of second shift

"Welcome to the fabulous city of Vos," a tall white bot said with a charming smile, handing the new arrivals their credit cards. He went through the whole speech with a practiced ease, making the many time rehearsed words sound like spontaneous good advices from an old friend. "...for your convenience and safety purpose. Have a nice evening!"
The door closed behind a pair of femmes, and the white bot turned to the computer screen. He prepared the upload to the main network, and frowned as he found thirteen files waiting in line instead of two.
"What the-" he checked the time of files creation, and thumped the desk. "Why, that lazy glitch of a drone! That's it, I'm reporting him." Angrily, he pulled out a data pad to fill in a complaint against his co-worker. Before he went to that, however, he dutifully tapped few keys, uploading the files into the system.
They were routinely scanned, sent to police mainframe, and run through few security lists. And one of the names hit the medium priority alert. The police bot on safety-net duty pulled up the file to his screen, read it dispassionately, and send the report to his superior. The superior read the report, frowned, and put the information in the city-wide security system. Within two breems, every police- and security-bot in the city of Vos was aware that there was an unwelcome guest on the streets.

A/N: This is planned out to be 11 chapters long. Wasn't beta read, and I worked on it mostly at work, where I only have MS word's thesaurus as a dictionary, so if you notice a glaring word misuse, please notify me. Concrit and grammar advices are welcomed and deeply loved.

A/N2: Right now, I hate FF net with a passion. What the FRAG is their problem with non-letter symbols? And with a readable spacing and formatting? Do they want to discourage us from writing or what? Just FYI, the message that Sideswipe sent to Sunny should read " I 'heart' u 2" , but ff won't let me use 'less' symbol. Oh well.