Chapter Text
-”’Jack, are you aware of any strange creatures roaming this area? Before you ask, that is why we are late” Arcee asked, having finished dressing Soundwave’s welds.
Wheeljack now busied himself in the mortuary area of his workshop, preparing the other frame for the passage through the smelter. Fortunately the attendants of the previous funeral rites had not noticed the arrival of his guests. However there were two more smeltings scheduled that day and he could not spare a moment for a formal conversation.
- “Not the kind you have stuffed into that cart behind my workshop. Never seen fuel run purple before.”
Arcee hummed in assent from around her cup, to Laserbeak’s curious scrutiny.
The way how casual the two were about the entire incident intrigued Soundwave, the running commentary Laserbeak provided in the background with regards to smaller details which he had no ability of noting also proved valuable. Such details like the strange blue liquid the nurse ingested, the weapons a she had on her that she had no need or even right to possess. Not to mention her entire interaction with the insecticons down to the nonchalance of the two mecha who by all means should have been frightened out of their minds...it was bizarre, it was intriguing. These were no ordinary mecha, there were secrets underlying their every sentence, secrets he craved to find out.
-”How about you buddy, doing fine?” Wheeljack called out to their silent companion. Being pulled out from his thoughts Soundwave looked up. He had been thumbing the bit of carbon offered to him between his slender fingers, the dusty residue clung to the tips.
-”Nautilus communicates in an unusual manner.” Arcee had come to accept that the gladiator often needed his own space and a lot of it, too. He did tap a quick response of
Yes, good.
-”Oh!” Wheeljack’s optics brightened, faceplates pulling into a pleasantly surprised grin. -”Glad to hear that.”
Soundwave turned to face the engineer, displaying more outward interest this time and experimentally tapped a string of words which could not be easily predicted from the context to test the mech.
-”Primus, never expected to hear morse used so frivolously!”
The gladiator took it as a personal challenge of sorts and started tapping so quickly that it was a wonder no sparks were flying from under that finger tip.
-”Whoa, ease up! I am a bit rusty.” Wheeljack laughed but listened intently regardless. -”Your bird can keep the trinket, though it is considered bad luck, I get it but you will have to ask her yourself and Of course I do!”
Arcee looked between the two, light scowl on her face.
-”Do you have a manual for this?”
-“Yeah, somewhere in the drawers, it is an old thing, really, used for communicating with submerging types like our friend here. That is when they were still abundant.”
-”You mean none of the submerging types can vocalize?”
Wheeljack snorted at this. -”’Course they can, just not on the same frequency as us. We can’t hear them talk because their voices are out of our perception range but they do talk between themselves, and with their companions who have the hearing range of that frequency. Chances are these two.” He gestured to Soundwave and Laserbeak. -”Are probably gossiping right in front of us.”
To this Laserbeak produced a disdained squawk, as if she was outraged about being found out, the gladiator just had his helm turned in their direction and appeared to be listening intently.
Arcee quickly shut her mouth when she realized she had been gaping. She had assumed that a blind patient and a Bird out of all things would have been a relatively safe audience but just How Much did those two witness and convey to each other?
-”I will bear that in mind.” Arcee finally spoke, still eyeing both the gladiator and the bird suspiciously.
-”Aw, don’t be like that ‘Cee, he’s a bit freaked about the run-in you had today, is all.”
Lies. Soundwave tapped.
-”He is curious about what you saw.” Wheeljack continued nonplussed; a teasing glint in his optic.
Desist! This time Soundwave accompanied it with slight bristling of what remained of his armor.
Taking this display as confirmation of Wheeljack’s words rather than indignation, Arcee continued -“Yes, that was unusual and coordinated, too. There were at least two actors. One served as a distraction to lure away the insecticons and the other - to attack us.” Arcee’s optics widened at the realisation only to slump into a deep frown. “Scrap, I think the other one got away.”
-”Nothing we can do about that now.” Wheeljack shrugged, adding the finishing touches to the frame he had been working on. -”Now if you do not mind, I have to measure you.” He said, turning to face Soundwave now.
Laserbeak flitted to the rafters, positioning herself above the two mechs, clearly surveying the area. -”How do you feel about costume parties?”
Never attended one
-”Well, now is your chance, though I am afraid I only have costumes of dead people and the attendants are rather stiff but I hope you don’t mind?”
Arcee cleared her throat behind Wheeljack, aware that his particular branch of humor took a bit of getting used to. -”What Wheeljack means is, every frame that arrives here to be smelted is taken a picture of, measured and registered in the book of the Smelter. We need to provide evidence that you were indeed smelted, I am afraid we will have to stage your funeral, in a sense.”
-”Shall we begin?”
Nautilus’s helm swerved to look in their direction and he tapped.
After a moment’s pause wheeljack muttered -”Bummer.” At an insistent Look from Arcee Wheeljack apologized -” He said that unclaimed gladiators get pulled apart for parts, never smelted.”
Arcee puffed a vent. -”We are operating under auspices that you were an unclaimed body so you being a gladiator is a moot point.”
Nautilus did not utter another tap.
-”Looks like everybody is happy.” Wheeljack lifted a container of grey paint and set to work.
Prowl was on his way to his superior’s office to submit the report of the night inspection. Most of his coworkers had already left for recharge or carbon and he sorely wished to return home and just be with his mate.
He had long since weighed the pros and cons of having Ratchet provide medical care in their district. He had consciously edited out some more suspicious parts; Jazz was alive thanks to the medic and Prowl was not going to forget that any time soon. If that made him a bad enforcer, so be it but in his mind a mech who teetered on boundaries of the legality for saving lives instead of taking them had precedence over unreasonable legislation. Clearly, his mindset was not shred by many.
Voices behind the closed door made him pause before knocking.
-”I’m sure he is more crafty than that. We should just flush them out, clearly your staff is not competent enough to perform a thorough search.” The voice was not familiar to Prowl, he furrowed his optic ridges, quieting his engine to a minimum.
-”Let me remind you that it IS a hospital. What you are implying is highly illegal and nobody else has been willing to provide medical care in the slums up to this point. I am not backing this up.”
-”I am not asking for your support, I merely want your oversight.”
Prowl’s optics widened, this was not a good time to be caught listening in outside his superior’s office but despite himself he lingered by the door. The entire idea was highly unnerving, he had to warn Ratchet. He was about to move away from the door when it opened.
-”Ah, officer, please enter, I believe you have a report to hand in?” Prowl schooled his doorwings into a neutral cant but he was not as successful with hiding his exhaust fumes wafting forth from his agitated frame.
The other occupant of the room - a bright red mech - brushed past Prowl without a word and the enforcer was left alone with his superior.
-”I take it you heard the interaction?”
-”Only parts of it, Sir, I did not mean to listen in.”
-”Mecha coming around, thinking they can use us as tools for petty revenge.” The commanding officer huffed in indignation. Prowl placed the report on the desk and moved to leave the office.
-”A moment of your time. I have looked into your application for a promotion and I believe there is an opening now.”
Prowl’s optics lit up, incandescent wires glowing nearly white.
-”The county to the South from the city needs a commanding officer and I believe you would be excellent for the job.”
In translation this meant his commanding officer wanted Prowl out of the district and the city itself.
-”I am flattered but I believe my skills could be better applied in city where there is a higher rate of crime.”
-”Nonsense, an enforcer of your caliber should not patrol the streets - your administrative work is brilliant and Primus knows that office needs some shaping up." His superior stated with a lofty gesture. -"Furthermore - you are not on your own anymore, this district is no place for a family.”
-”Can I consider your offer before giving my final answer?”
-”I’m afraid your position already has been adjusted.”
That was very abrupt -”How soon do I start?”
-”Tomorrow.”
Prowl worked his jaw but had no other answer to give than -"Thank you. Sir." He was not foolish enough to overlook the casual mention of his family. It was a thinly-veiled warning - intervene and they will suffer.
-”Well, I must say you are one handsome deadmech.” Wheeljack smirked after looking at the picture. The smell of powder still clung in the air and Laserbeak was still disgruntled because she got startled by the bright flash.
-”Does he look dead enough?” Arcee peeked over his shoulder strut.
-”I tried imitating some gashes on his chest over here.” He pointed at the black and white picture along the line where there were welds now. “And you did a good job at masking his biolights, would be strange to have them glowing on a corpse.”
Arcee tapped her chin - “Is it not too much? I mean all the ornaments? He was supposed to be an unclaimed body.”
-”Yeah, but, hum.” Now Wheeljack thought a bit more. -” You are right, but it is such a lovely take.”
-”What do you think?” Arcee plucked the picture from Wheeljack’s fingers and showed it to Laserbeak.
Soundwave was not comfortable. The paint made his plating itch and all the trinkets and burial rite props just annoyed him and tampered with his senses.
Does the paint come off?
Laserbeak’s squawk alerted them to a group of mechs coming into the yard. Right, Wheeljack quickly disengaged from his two guests and went to meet the mourning party.
-”Down!” Arcee whispered urgently and pushed Soundwave towards one of the mortuary slabs. Surprised, he released a pulse and then did not resist anymore. Having a dead-grey-looking mech wander the grounds would draw the wrong kind of attention. She took a tarp and pulled it over him with some help from Laserbeak who had caught the drift half way through the commotion.
There, the gladiator covered, the bird… Arcee looked around to discover that the little avian had made itself scarce again (what a sneak!). She sighed and started looking for a paint stripper.