Chapter Text
Cheetor didn’t know how long he was out for. He had blacked out, he thought, sometime during the blue hour. Now he was sleeping on a bench, near frozen to death and arms curled around a package. The light was shining directly in his face, making him see the red spots through his eyelids, among spots. Cheetor sat up, and regretted it immediately. His vision swam. There was a ringing in his ears and unprecedented pain at the base of his neck, crawling all the way from the back of his head to the front. He felt like he was about to throw up. His face felt itchy, and he scratched his lip. Caked, dried blood flaked off.
Last night’s fresh violence came to him, and Cheetor felt his chest tighten. It was getting hard to breathe. He felt blood rushing in his ears and his head pounded harder, and he felt his face scrunch and lip tremble. He rubbed his face hard, trying to scrub away the pain, and the tears that were undoubtedly flowing in fat drops. More caked blood came with his effort and a wetter, saltier pain that did not stop.
Why did things have to be like this for me? What fresh hell was next? This is the literal embodiment of a 30 car pile-up, it always has been, and if you had been arrested last night, it would’ve been sevenfold. Cheetor’s shoulders shook at the thought and shuddering breaths tumbled their way out of his chest. He was catastrophizing, and he was about to spiral. Things could’ve gone a lot worse last night, though they also could’ve gone a lot better. He could’ve been arrested last night. He probably should’ve been. He didn’t know what became of Airazor or Nightscream, Scorponok, or maybe even that blurred face he was talking to for some time before Nightscream decked him in the face.
Cheetor couldn’t tell what had hurt worse — the hangover, his ego, or the fact that his long-time-best-friend-and-crush had punched him in the face. He hugged the package closer to him.
~~~
Megatron considered himself to be an observant man. Not the most pragmatic, not the most logical, not the most kind, but he considered himself intelligent, and observant, and truthfully? He considered himself better. He knew that sometimes sacrifices had to be made, and opportunities were to be taken advantage of. It was a part of being something short of a - ah - businessman, which he considered himself to be. Among other things. Like being a drug lord, and unrecognized protector of Axalon. Moreso his hold on what was so-called the “Darkside”, a district of Axalon that was considered far too corrupt for the MPD to have a solid hold of.
The people that tended to live in the Darkside, were paranoid and strung out, people down on their luck, working class individuals that couldn’t find cheap enough housing otherwise at the risk of their safety, as the media framed it. Fact is, the Darkside was no less dangerous than that of the district of Axalon the MPD lorded over. At least, Megatron certainly thought so. Megatron prided himself in being able to keep his people together, under a watchful eye where crime was monitored and organized, rather than it being born out of necessity. The people were comfortable. Of course, they had to live with ignoring the drug deals, and the almost alarming amount of teenagers-turned-adults in the Preda, and the occasional mishap when someone couldn’t pay their dues. Some residents expressed disgust at the “sexual deviance” that took place in the Darkside. Rather, it was only a singular Adult shop, and a rather lively club, which was considered “Deviant.” Its name? The Darksyde. Megatron thought it was on the nose, and honestly, he couldn’t think of any other name. A little uncreative to some, others thought it was funny. Megatron was personally fond. It was his favorite bar, mainly because it was his bar. And something short of a place of operations. Some bias, naturally.
Megatron sipped his glass of Carbanent and looked out into the garden Dinobot had curated. Ah, yes. Dinobot. About him. Megatron swirled his wine and looked down into the deep red. He was afraid that he was going to have to kill him. Figuratively, or literally, Megatron hadn’t decided. The snitch had gotten Scorponok and Waspinator arrested. He figured that Megatron was none the wiser, his arrogance allowed him the thought. Megatron almost felt insulted. Surely Dinobot knew he was better than that. He probably should kill him. He looked back at Dinobot dining across from him, and watched the way his face caught the light and the way his dreads framed his face, skin almost as dark as the night, and just as gorgeous. He was certainly a pretty picture. Maybe not. Megatron sipped his wine. Dinobot chewed silently.
Now to address the lost package. He supposed that he would set out to do it himself, knowing he had the tracker for it. He threw back the glass and downed the rest of his wine, and scooted his seat. Dinobot looked up at him, questioning. Megatron had only stepped to him and stroked his cheek on his way to his keys.
“Just finishing business, my dear.”
~~~
Cheetor walked, and walked, and walked. He had snuck into his house by climbing up the tree near his bedroom window and had changed his clothes to something warmer. He sniffled a little bit. He was afraid that he caught a cold. Sleeping outside in almost freezing weather could do that to you. He was surprised he hadn’t frozen to death.
Cheetor eyed the package and held his head in his hands. What was in it? Cheetor had caressed its crimps earlier before he had taken a shower, curiosity eating at him. He had decided against it in the end, figuring that with his luck, he would have opened Pandora’s box.
Cheetor sniffled again. He was absolutely miserable, to say the least. He guessed that listening to Radiohead wouldn’t have really helped him either. He rolled over on his side and eyed the picture frame of his Mom.
Cheetor thought she was a pretty woman. Cheetor remembered her being a happy woman. Cheetor remembered her being warm, and smelling like summer and honeysuckle and clean laundry. And Cheetor remembered her saying that she wouldn’t leave him. She had.
Cheetor buried his face in his pillow. Fuck this.
He needed to do something. He huffed and flung himself upwards, grabbing the package.
He supposed it was time to return to sender.
~~~
Cheetor made it a ways away from his house when he noticed the car. It was rather stunning. It was a convertible that had it's covering up, and windows tinted awfully dark. Cheetor wondered if that was even legal to have them that dark. It was a purple low rider — a 1964 Chevrolet Impala. It was absolutely gorgeous, to say the least. Cheetor changed his WM from Kino to The Cars. He thought it was appropriate. He smiled quietly to himself. After two blocks, and about two-thirds of the way to Scorponok’s house — at least he thought, all of the houses looked the same —- he realized that the car was following him. Cheetor stopped. The car stopped.
In the cool fall, Cheetor figured that he wouldn’t have died today. Cheetor felt blood pounding in his ears. He hoped that he could run fast enough — away from the car if he had to. He hoped that he was just fast enough. He heard the car door open. Cheetor considered his Dad, and his Mom, and Nightscream, and Airazor, and Rattrap. He hadn’t seen Rattrap in a while. He had hoped he would’ve gotten to see him once more. A damn shame. A damn shame he had never been kissed, or loved, or had gotten to know anybody, to know —
“Good morning. Can I borrow some of your time, Pussycat?”
Pussycat.
He was going to be killed by someone with taste.
~~~
It was near Scorponok’s house, Megatron noted. Scorponok still hadn’t been released, but Megatron would bail him out of jail in time. He should be released tomorrow, along with Waspinator. He saw the package and the boy that Tarantulas had told him he had given the package to. He thought back to the conversation.
~~~
Megatron slammed his hand down on the table, jittering the glasses and the other packages, all but one, smuggling thousands of dollars from out of the bank had been hard — and procuring those drugs to make more money was even harder. The particular package that had been lost would’ve cost him thousands.
“...and why , praytell, did you think it wise to hand the package over to some... some child.” Megatron hissed through his teeth.
Tarantulas threw up his hands and hissed right back.
“Don’t get mad at me for recruiting.”
“And what if your recruiting stint goes sideways? If he opens the package and steals from me? What then Tarantulas? What should I do ? Get mad at him? Tear you limb from limb?”
Tarantulas only seemed mildly disturbed, which didn’t do good to soothe Megatron’s ego. He could feel his face contort in rage, lips twitching down at one of the corners.
“Then it was a misguided attempt. If he runs off and opens the package and keeps the money for himself, we kill him.”
Megatron wondered how Tarantulas could see things so simply sometimes, he had no air of caution.
“Get out.” Tarantulas snorted and walked out.
~~~
Megatron saw the boy with the package under his arm. He had a bandaid over his nose, a bruise forming there under the bandaid. He was lean and had looked deceptively weak. From what Megatron was told — more like from what he overheard from when Scorponok bitched — Cheetor was fairly strong. Maybe not strong like Dinobot but strong enough to keep Scorponok on his toes. Strong and fast enough to escape being chased down by police.
Megatron had noticed that the boy stopped. He pumped the brakes. He supposed it was time to stop prowling and strike. He could see the young man begin to shake, nerves wracked. His lips quirked up a bit. He crawled out of his open window and sat on the door, arms crossed across the roof of the car.
“Good morning. Can I borrow some of your time, Pussycat?” He watched Cheetor jerk at that, and slowly turn around and face him. Now he could see him clearly. An abundance of freckles and a set of baby blues. He was rather cute, in a puppy dog kind of way. He still had boyish features, but they were beginning to harden out.
“Uh... hi.” He stuttered out, shuffling his feet, and tapping on the package.
Megatron did not make himself subtle, he darted his eyes to the package. He grinned when he saw it was unopened. Smart, the boy kept out of things that were not his business.
I beckoned him towards me, and there I saw his hesitation further dampen his demeanor.
It was time to be blunt.
“You have something that belongs to me.” I watched him startle and glance at the package in his hands.
“Oh, uh. Sorry?” he stepped off the ledge and rounded the car towards me, tentative. I had the package within my grasp, but he hesitated once more. I was beginning to run a bit impatient, but it was best to not let that show. Skittish boy.
“How, how do you know this package is yours?”
“Well, it's certainly not yours, since you came around to get rid of it.”
“Well, yeah,” he sputtered “What if, like, what if this isn’t yours though, and the actual guy it belongs to hunts me down. What then? Tell him I gave it to a stranger?”, he huffed.
He thinks too much, though. That could be a problem. Maybe if I caught him off his guard...
“It’s not Scorponok’s either, or anyone else's at that party.”
Cheetor visibility paled, and he took a step back. Megatron could only leer.
“I am no cop if that makes you feel better. Just a, ah, a friend of Scorponok’s.”
“Well, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Megatron could only snort in amusement, and Megatron could see that Cheetor had visibility relaxed. Easy to break the ice with humor, Megatron would remember that.
Cheetor went forward and placed the rather heavy package in his hand, wrapped in brown. Megatron grinned.
“Scorponok is a bit of an ass, isn’t he? But I heard that he got out just fine.”
Cheetor flushed in nervousness.
“The police are still out, prowling a bit, but they will likely lessen after a day or so. Probably hoping to catch stragglers or meet their quota.” Or, you know, searching for drug money that was soon to be laundered.
Megatron also knew of another way to break the ice, to introduce himself. He’s done it when Dinobot and he fight.
“Are you hungry?” Cheetor was startled out of that. He rather was.
“Oh, uh. Yeah i was just going to go to the Axalon apartments and uh, yeah.”
Cheetor kicked himself mentally. Good job giving away your location to someone who could quite possibly thrash him, here and there.
Megatron nodded his head towards the passenger seat, and slunk back in his car, with the package thrown haphazardly in the back. Cheetor slowly stalked back around towards the car, and Megatron, with his impressive height, opened the door. Cheetor slunk into the car and regretted it immediately. The leather ran smooth in the passenger seat, and he thought it was gruesome how someone so handsome should care. Maybe nature has yet to make a smart man of him yet.
Megatron pumped the gas, and with that, they moved towards, and with that, the growing pit in Cheetor’s stomach worsened..
“Where would you like to eat?”
“Oh, uh, there’s this really good burger joint called Freddy’s, and it’s got like, really good custard-”
Megatron started to zone out. He knew where it was, vaguely. It was that little spot where some of his scouts would lie around while searching for possible places to hit.
He waited for a lull in the boy’s rambling, and realized that he didn’t ask for his name, and could not call him Cheetor, as he wasn’t supposed to know his name yet. But he did let him know that he knew that Cheetor was at the party. So it shouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would get a funny reaction out of him.
“Cheetor.” Megatron interrupted.
Cheetor snapped his mouth shut in anticipation, and the pit in his stomach grew.
“I am unsure of the way to this establishment. Could you guide me?” He lied.
Offering a distraction, and testing Cheetor to see if he knew different ways if he knew the area well —
“Oh, from here? Uh, yeah. I know of a couple. The fastest way is taking Eagle road, do you know where that is?” A nod, “but it got this dumb hill that makes it hard to see if people are coming over it, so you can get like, sideswiped, and-”
Megatron zoned out once more, making headway towards Freddy’s, while the boy rambled. The package jostled in the back, and Megatron’s certainty of gaining an asset grew.
“Oh!” Megatron glanced over. “What’s your name?”
“Megatron.”
“Megatron.” Cheetor tried it out, and nodded, deciding that he liked it. Powerful name, for a powerful guy.
“And, uh, you already know me as Cheetor...”
“Quite the track star you are, Cheetor.” Cheetor flushed with embarrassment and a tinge of pride. Megatron smiled kindly at him.
“You have a future ahead of you. Quite a bright one.”
“Thank you!” He beamed.
Megatron smiled once more, though Cheetor could not help that this smile was a little unkinder than most. But it changed before Cheetor could think too much about it, and his attention shifted when they turned into Freddy’s.
Maybe Cheetor could make a friend today, though, Cheetor thought, looking at Megatron. He didn’t understand how Scorponok made friends with someone so... he didn’t want to say old. But he was going to, anyway. He was not graying, but he seemed to be on the verge of salt-and-peppered.
It was good to have different friends, he guessed. Maybe it could be an “I keep him young, he keeps me wise” situation?
His stomach growled at him. Megatron glanced at him, and Cheetor cringed inwardly, and it might have slipped outwardly and he may or may not have made a stupid face that made Megatron laugh. The pit in his stomach closed, and Cheetor drew himself a little closer to Megatron as they walked towards the door. He could think over a Cherry Coke and a burger, and maybe he could get this Megatron guy to buy him a peanut butter shake.