Understood
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Chapter 36
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"Tailgate!" came the angry voice as the two mechs left the Swinging Gate, both of them flinching. "There you are!"
The other mech turned and ran on seeing the tall purple mech striding toward them. Tailgate stood frozen to the spot in terror.
"Tailgate! Where have you been?! Why haven't you answered my comm's?" growled Cyclonus.
"Cyclonus! I... I..." His optics darted about for an escape route, but the moment he turned to transform and bolt away two long arms swept down and scooped him up, the small mech bobbling in his arms and unable to transform all the way. Cloudcover and Fastfire, standing across the narrow street, were laughing hysterically.
"What ever are you doing working? I assume that was no doctor I just saw you coming out of the hotel with," Cyclonus demanded of the mech now struggling in his arms. "Calm down!" he hissed.
Obediently Tailgate went limp.
"That's better." He set Tailgate down but kept one hand firmly on part of his shoulder flares as he crouched. "You're supposed to be resting. And why haven't you answered me?"
"Because... I... Well..."
Cyclonus turned and looked across the street at Cloudcover and Fastfire, fixing them with a cold stare. The two ceased their laughter immediately and withdrew nervously. Everyone knew the purple warrior had a thing for this particular minibot and was likely to defend him.
"I was embarrassed," came the excuse.
"Embarrassed? How can a prostitute be embarrassed?" Cyclonus huffed, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips.
"I still have some dignity," he sobbed. And then seeing his opening, Tailgate ran for the alley, tiny feet clattering over the rough pavement.
"Tailgate! Get back here!" was the angry shout behind him.
He figured he could lose Cyclonus in the narrow passages between the buildings—dark, winding passages that only the locals knew how to navigate. For a while he was able to stay ahead, running a jagged path through cluttered and dirty alleys, but somewhere along the line he made a wrong turn and found himself on an open street. He looked behind him, wondering if he'd lost his pursuer. And then looked up the street to see where he might duck back into the maze or perhaps hide in a doorway or a utility alcove.
But suddenly and silently Cyclonus was upon him, snagging him with strong arms and clawed fingertips once more.
"Leave me alone," Tailgate screeched, squirming violently as the big mech lifted him. A couple of passers-by looked on with concerned expressions, but Cyclonus' glare only convinced them to go be concerned about something else.
Cyclonus held Tailgate tightly to his chest trying to still him. "Tailgate, you're supposed to be resting still. Not working."
The squirming became tearful sobbing. "I have to work," he cried. "If I don't work I'll go under. So just let me go and leave me alone, unless you're buying."
Cyclonus rumbled a laugh at the minibot's tenacity. "Fine then. I'm buying." He walked over to a low wall nearby and sat upon it, gently releasing one of the arms around his prisoner. He dug into a pocket and brought out a few credit chips, forcing them into Tailgate's hand. "There. You've been paid. Now stop squirming and talk to me."
Tailgate unwound into his lap, trembling and fighting the tears and trying to smile. And then he suddenly realized his mask was up and dropped it quickly. But immediately he felt vulnerable and exposed, and found his emotions swaying back the other way. How could he continue to pursue business with Cyclonus after what had happened? The smile fell and he tried to wiggle away away.
"Tailgate, you've not been answering my comm's or responding to my messages." His remaining arm tightened against the minibot's overheated frame. "Is this why? Because you've been working? You're already back on the streets? You know that the doctor told you that you'd be in no shape for it for an orn."
"That doctor of yours cut off my advertising wires and threw them away," he whined. "I had a hard time getting a new license tag from the registrations bureau. And of course my previous tags were on them so now that I just have one they think I'm some upstart and won't know what to do," Tailgate complained. Ever since the crackdown in Overdock the streetwalkers had taken to wearing their licensing tags strung on their advertising wires. The more a mech sported on his bundle the more likely he was to attract customers.
"That doctor is a fine medic—one of the few Decepticon medics I'd trust with my spark. He kept you from suffering much worse damage if you'd bled out or gone into stasis."
Tailgate sighed. "Maybe I should have just gone into stasis and let the scavengers have me for parts. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Swerve was so upset and angry. I cost you a favor. And now I'm worse off than where I'd started."
"So you made a bad decision regarding a client. Albeit a very bad decision. That's all. But you're still alive. You still have your frame, and it's fully repaired. You weren't found by chop-mechs and you still have friends."
"Friends? I only have Swerve. But I still owe him, big time," Tailgate interjected. "But at least payday's in five days. I'll be able to make up some of it to him after that."
"You'll be in no shape for payday if you don't rest now," Cyclonus countered.
"I'm not using my valve. I'll be fine."
"More than your valve was damaged," said Cyclonus angrily. "Your client, or should I say your 'abuser,' did a lot more than rip up your valve. We've been through this."
"I'll be fine. I had only one customer yesterday, and just one today, and they just wanted their spikes sucked. So stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself... mostly."
Cyclonus growled threateningly. "Is it so wrong for me to worry about you? Kaon isn't exactly a friendly place for a refugee."
Tailgate froze. "I'm not worth worrying about, especially not by someone like you, at least." And then he realized he was still clutching the money Cyclonus had given him. He opened his hand briefly before putting it into a pocket. Twelve-thousand credits...
Cyclonus snorted. "Why am I not allowed to worry about you? Is it because I'm a Decepticon? Is it because you're not from Kaon? Is it because of my rank?"
When Tailgate didn't answer, Cyclonus rolled his sharp fingertips forward so that they poked hard and uncomfortably into the minibot's midsection. "Why?"
"Because I'm just a prostitute and you're just a somewhat frequent client," Tailgate blurted. "We can't be anything else. I can't expect anything else. Not affection. Not even friendship. Isn't that understood?"
"Just a client? That's what I am to you?" Cyclonus asked calmly.
In tears again, Tailgate nodded.
Cyclonus vented heavily and sat for a moment thinking. "Fine. Then that's how it will be," he said eventually.
With resignation he stood, setting Tailgate down, and then transformed.
Tailgate gasped at seeing Cyclonus' alt-mode—he never had before—and he was amazed at the beautiful sleek lines and powerful-looking build. He was so much more than any usual flight frame. So this was how he'd been taken off of the rooftop. He'd been too out of it to realize.
"Get in," commanded the jet, popping open his canopy.
Obediently Tailgate did so and dropped into the seat. "Where are you taking me."
"Back to my place, and you're going to remain there a while. You're being hired for an extended session."
"What? But I have to..."
"You have to rest up," Cyclonus interrupted.
Tailgate folded his arms over his chest. "That's not your concern. You're just a client. What does my well-being matter?" he asked defiantly.
"It is my concern if I wish to keep indulging in your services." Cyclonus' engines roared to life and they immediately rose and entered the aerial traffic pattern above Kaon, and in three breems they were landing on the balcony of Cyclonus' quarters.
Tailgate climbed out and immediately the big mech transformed and opened the glass door. "You'll be staying here. I'm keeping the doors locked so you won't be able to sneak away again."
Tailgate spun around and faced the big mech angrily. "You're keeping me a prisoner?"
"I'm keeping you here for a few days, until other arrangements can be made. But you won't be a prisoner. I do plan on paying for your time."
"You've paid me enough," he said unhappily. Tailgate sat down hard on the padded footstool in front of the chair, suddenly wishing he hadn't when a jolt of residual pain shook his lower internals. "And what if I don't want to? What if I'd rather go walk the streets for money?"
Cyclonus' rumbling laugh filled the room. "Stop being so foolish and spiteful, you silly little thing." He dropped to his knees in front of Tailgate, capturing him between his arms as he placed his hands on the wide seat of the chair behind him. "You should be grateful that I'm taking you off the streets." The big Decepticon moved in and kissed Tailgate's mask. "You'll be much safer here than anywhere else in Kaon. Now drop that mask and let me kiss you properly. Or would you rather I just stuck my spike in your mouth?"
Tailgate wanted to slap him. But at the same time he wanted to just let go of his pride and kiss the officer silly and thank him from the depths of his spark. Cyclonus had done so much for him, and he was right about everything as much as Tailgate wanted to deny it. Becoming a prostitute had broken down so much of his own pride and self-esteem, that he felt the need to cling to what little bit was left in order not to fall into complete depravity and self-loathing. He'd seen it happen to some of the other streetwalkers already in his short time in Overdock.
"Please?" asked Cyclonus.
Please? Cyclonus never used that word, at least not with him. The mech was asking? Not demanding?
In a sudden moment of insight and clarity, Tailgate realized that the big bad Decepticon was not all big and bad—that behind the gruff and unfaltering exterior there were hidden feelings for him. It wasn't just about getting a bit of aft every orn or so. Ever since his first experiences with Cyclonus he'd tried to think of the purple mech as a good client and just that, to not grow attached beyond the interest of an amiable business relationship. But perhaps he'd not been the only one denying the relationship that was trying to develop. Perhaps Cyclonus had also been trying to consider him just a nice frag and someone safe to cuddle afterward.
But now, with but one word, suddenly it seemed that there was much more involved here.
Tailgate dropped his mask and the warrior's lips immediately swooped in to take his.
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"Understood" continues in Chapter 37
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