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Should I suggest — No. We did that for our 10th. Maybe arson? That east side gang has been giving her some trouble lately.
"What’cha got there?"
Barely looking up from his small notebook of scratched offed ideas, Lugnut sees Knockout smiling back with his usual trouble-making smirk leaning against the wall. He was already dressed for the night in another red outfit that looked like a haltered swimsuit with a long train that grew darker towards the bottom until it was black. With his legs completely on display it suggested that he was gonna start the night off dancing instead of singing. But before he can ask the dancer to leave him alone Lugnut’s optic catches a very familiar cigarette holder in Knockout's possession.
"Oh, this old thing," Knockout grins as he twirls it around his fingers, "I snatched it from Screamer, told him to stop smoking around me. But enough about me for now, what’s up with you?" Knockout asks again pointing the holder at him.
Grimacing, Lugnut sticks his notebook into his pocket. He had thought he’d have a little more peace and quiet to think back here in the ‘alleyway’, but apparently not.
The Alleyway was Club Nemesis’ affectionately dubbed series of hallways that were hidden from view and kept the club running smoothly. They were connected from the loading dock and the employee’s entrance to behind the stage, to the Boss’ office, the kitchens, the cellar, the private rooms, the changing rooms, and the Armoire. And if that wasn’t enough every area had a secret passage included for insurance.
Currently, his wonderful Strika was making another sweep of the building, inside and out, as the night shift started to stream in and he was personally waiting for the Boss’s arrival. That’s why Lugnut had hoped for some time to himself to plan. The polite ‘Go away’ was on the tip of his tongue before Lugnut remembers that Knockout did woo other people for a living and might be helpful.
"Planning my anniversary." He says lowly.
It was their own little tradition of trading off every other year in choosing what to do for the date and this year it was his turn. But he was at a lost of what to do for his amazing wife.
Knockout’s head tilts a bit making his helm crests reflect the lights in a vicious way as his face seems to twitch to stay neutral, "How many years?"
"Fifteen years."
The twitch is back, but he turns too fast for him to see anything else.
"Well hello there Orion," He calls out and turning Lugnut see the younger man who had caught and held Megatron’s interest unlike anyone else before.
There was a certain amount of disquiet that Lugnut felt surrounded Orion Pax and he was not the only one who thought that. The younger man was obviously strong, but held himself like he wanted to reduce his presence. He had a stage personality that was wholly different from how he acted that it was jarring. And the most damning was his regular attitude didn’t match up with his pursuit of The Boss. It wasn’t overt, but everyone could see it.
Orion stops on his way to the dressing rooms and makes his way over to them, shoulders slightly hunched with his hands holding his satchel.
"Hi Knockout. Lugnut."
"Now what did I tell you?" Knockout chastises the taller man and pushes at his shoulders so he would stand up straighter. And after straightening out his button-up Knockout taps the underside of Orion’s chin with the cigarette holder to get him to raise his helm a bit.
"Confidence is key. And that they smell fear so look like you know what you’re doing and what you’re about." Orion recites.
"Good. Now if you only did that all the time you’d be golden." Knockout sighs dramatically before dropping back against the wall.
Orion offers a sheepishly smile and Lugnut cannot understand what Megatron sees in the other. He was such a frightened and fidgety creature by nature, but he can’t deny his stage presence was impressive.
Maybe that’s all it is.
"Now guess how many years this big lug has been married to Strika?" Knockout asks the younger man.
"Ten years?"
"Fifteen."
"Oh! That’s excellent," And turning a bright smile his way asks, "Is it coming up soon?"
Caught by two sets of optics, one prying and the other genuinely curious, Lugnut sighs and resign himself to his fate, now remembering that his radiant wife had told him to watch out for the performers. They may be whimsical and small, but they were crafty as a pit spawn.
"Next week. I have dinner planned, her favorite dish growing up, but nothing else for my angel of destruction." He mutters.
"Well what did you do last year big boy?"
"We went to an underground fight scene in Praxus," It lightens his mood remembering how they took out all the regulars.
"Bet you two went home a lot richer after that." Knockout says.
Lugnut shrugs, not denying it, "Yes, but it was pitiful. We easily swept through the horribly weak competitors that it was hilarious. And since we only flexed our muscles in that arena we decided to take in the culture of the city and took a lovely moonlit walk through the city's art museum. Strika adored it."
Knockout has a soft expression while Orion seems to be remembering that the people around him didn't care for legality.
"At night? … Did you break in?" Orion asks fairly concern, only to flush when Knockout fails to hide a laugh behind a cough.
"Their security was bad." Lugnut shrugs unapologetically.
"So tearing up the town is still a date night agenda?" Knockout asks.
Nodding to him the dancer get a sly grin that Lugnut knows couldn’t mean anything good and says, "I’ll ask around to see what’s going on."
Then pushing off the wall in a sensual manner he saunters off, giving him and Orion a view of his back, which was completely on display. As he sashays down the hall he causes more than a few distractions among the other workers starting to mill around the alleyway as it gets closer to opening time.
"What type of artwork did she like?"
Blinking, Lugnut looks down to see Orion was still here and looking at him inquisitively.
Lugnut would have just left, but he can admit he was desperate for help and Orion might be his only chance to spark an idea.
"I’m not sure what it is called, but it looked smeared up close.” He recalls.
He couldn't remember much as he had been captivated by his wife's stunning strength and beauty at the time, but he soldiers on. For her.
"I do remember that you could see the brushstrokes and everything was... soft, but bright, even at the odd angles they were at. And standing further away would put the picture in focus," Lugnut tries to explain, shoulders sinking at his own words, "Art is not something I can understand, but my dear Strika, my beloved, she was enamored with it. Something about how the sharp tiny strokes called to her."
Orion smiles at him and it's disarming in its gentleness, "That's very sweet. I can’t offer a fancy piece of art, but I have a friend that paints. If we can figure out the art style —"
"I would like a portrait! How much?" He quickly demands.
His worldly Strika adored one-of-a-kind gifts, from receiving a photo album from him for their decade of marriage or her presenting him with a cookbook from Tarn. There were even the knuckle dusters with the hidden knives that he had gotten her almost twelve years ago which were still a personal favorite of hers. A painting all her own sounded like the perfect present for his magnificent wife.
Orion’s optics widen and he raises a hand to cover his mouth, but Lugnut can still hear him laughing softly. Not demeaning at all, just a friendly laugh and something he wasn’t expecting.
"I was going to ask if you wanted him to find you a good print, but I can ask what he thinks about painting a piece for you tomorrow." He says sincerely.
Partially embarrassed by his exuberance Lugnut bows his head and looks away, "That sounds alright."
Nodding his head, Orion just gives him another grin before walking back towards the changing rooms.
Two days later Lugnut finds himself leaning against the wall in the alleyway as he waits for the kitchen to finish The Boss' lunch order to go. As it was midday he wasn't expecting to be bothered as only waiters came by and there was hardly any other traffic because this shift was regulated to just singing for the afternoon crowd. That's why Lugnut was confused when a hard and sharp little elbow digs into his waist and his side explodes with pain. Holding in a noise of surprise at the sudden attack Lugnut has to settle for a forced cough to hide his shock. Turning down to glare at the attacker Lugnut only finds a short lady in an unbelievably shimmery blue dress and an equally bright smile.
"I heard from Knockout that you were looking for something to do on your anniversary." She whispers in a singsong voice.
Lugnut is silent at first, but she does not leave and continues to smile up at him. With an unsure nod her smile goes from bright to mischievous as she steps closer.
"Well I was playing a game of gin rummy with some beats in my apartment – I won all the rounds too – but I got them talking and asked what was up on the streets. Two started complaining about being moved to dock duty for a shipment next week and I got them to slip up and tell me what it was. Apparently it's for the new EPF armor Haven-Class trucks." She tells him, her grin growing with every word she says.
Lugnut is slack-jawed at this news.
And my beautiful Strika has been distraught about her team’s truck taking considerable damage from the recent scrimmages on the East side!
"I’m sure you could find out the rest," The singer tells him, "I didn’t want to get made."
Giving her a single nod Lugnut immediately tries to figure out who he’d have to corner, Shockwave or Soundwave, to get that rest of this information.
"Thank you. Your help is appreciated."
"Fab! And happy to help. Tell her Skrrt Skrrt sends her love!"
And with another bubbly grin she bounds back down the hall to the main floor.
Dragging the rabble-rouser towards the back entrance Lugnut is glad he grabbed him as he had been getting too close and too personal to Midnight. It was doing everyone a favor because if he had let Midnight deal with the lout she would have caused another scene. The last one had her putting her stiletto through a woman’s hand who had attempted to take too many liberties with the silent dancer. Strika was infuriated with the patron and agreed with Midnight’s choice, though suggested that she work off her debt in another way instead of firing her. Midnight had done so without even a grumble, but it was easily agreed that no one wanted a repeat incident.
"Lugnut?"
Stopping at the confused call of his name he glances back to see Orion staring at the whole scene with concern optics, looking very out of place without his usual cutesy expression when he was in his bunny-suit outfit. But before either could move a sharp whistle startles them both.
"Wow! You really got all the right types here. Feisty and cold," And leering at Orion with a swarmy grin he winks, "And adorable and sexy."
Orion's lips twist up as his finials pull down and he looks away in shame. With an annoyed sigh Lugnut readjusts his hold on the man and makes it the extra couple feet to the door before tossing him out like the trash he is – and possible breaking a bone or two from the noises he heard and the pathetic screaming afterwards. With that done he closes the door and turns back to Orion with a bored look.
"Aren’t you supposed to be on the floor?"
"Oh! Uh ...yes and no," He answers, "Sunburst twisted his ankle a half an hour ago and asked if I could fill in. I helped him with his songs last week so I know them by heart."
"Hmpf."
"But I came back early to catch you," Orion continues, starting to play with the cuffs of his gloves nervously, "I saw you coming back this way and tried to catch up with you because I have something for you."
With a grunt and a wave directed down the hall Orion perks up and quickly makes his way to the changing rooms with Lugnut following after him. Usually he would ignore the Boss’ toys because they thought they were all high and mighty for gaining Megatron’s attention for a short time. But Orion Pax continues to be different and didn’t lord his new privileges over anyone, another oddity. He always acted kindly to others so Lugnut decides listening to him once wouldn’t be too bad.
Taking a seat on the offered ottoman Orion goes over to his satchel hanging on the back of the dressing room door and takes out a book. Lugnut can see it’s an art book, but when Orion comes closer Lugnut sees its a catalog checked out from the library for the Praxus Urban Art Museum.
Staring at the cover, confused more so than usual, Lugnut is at first at a lost for words. He didn’t think Orion would go this far out of his way to help. It was very suspect.
"...You’re being very nice." He accuses.
The unsaid ‘what do you want?’ was easily heard in the quiet room and from the scared look he received Lugnut knows his unasked question was heard.
"I don’t want anything! I’m just trying to be nice," He exclaims, holding the book close like a shield, "...You and Strika are very kind to us. And even though I don’t completely care for how you handle all the security situations, it’s the thought that counts...And it's nice coming to work knowing ...... knowing someone has your back." He says softly.
If Lugnut was not confused before he was now. Not only by Orion’s admissions, but by the performers’ help in general. Knockout’s genuine interest and letting the others know through their gossip chain, the tiny singer’s exuberance to help, and now Orion’s. It was odd to see others view his dazzling Strika in just a glimpse of the way he does. But at the same time it fills his heart with overwhelming joy to see the respect she had garnered and that others wanting to return the favor for what she had done.
With a grunt he holds his hand out for the book and Orion brightens, handing it over.
"So I asked and he said he would be delighted to do a commission for you, but said he’ll get back to me about the price. I also told him the description you gave me and this is what he think it’s could be," Orion tells him opening the book from the bookmark placed in it before walking over to his small rack of selected clothes from The Armoire, "You can look through it while I get ready and mark the page with the bookmark so you aren't gone long."
Looking up, the meaning lost on him, Orion gives him a too pleasant smile which turns apologetic as he turns away.
"Sorry. It’s just that I noticed you don't like to leave the floor." He says before disappearing behind the folding screen with a navy and white dress.
The unease about Orion Pax comes back, but his mind also tells him that entertainers had to be extra aware and with a mentor like Knockout he probably told Orion how to hold a mark. Sighing to himself, Lugnut quickly skims through the marked off section of Impressionism and hopes his optic catches the painting style in question from that night.
She had seen tons of people like him. Thinking that if they were big enough they could beat her down, hold her in place. Plenty had try and none had won.
After another successful match in the ring her and her fellow wrestlers usually cooled down with a couple of arm-wrestling matches before heading out to knock back a few drinks and then go home. But tonight the other part of the arena had hosted some pre-lim boxing matches and the boxers thought they could squeeze their way in and ruin their tradition. Well they would just show them.
It was tied being the two groups and the final match was against her and Lugnut of Kaon, the heavy weight champ for four years running. Both had the most wins tonight and it seemed like a great idea to have them go head to head for the finale. Strika will admit he would probably be a difficult opponent in this, but she was no slouch.
"Alright you know the rules," Tightend said with a sharp grin as he laid his hands over theirs, "One; the shoulder of both players must be in a square position before the match starts. Two; A pin can't be good if the elbow isn't in the pocket. Any slip-outs are fouls and you only get two. Three; You better not, at any time, let me catch you using your other hand to help. And four; my decision is final."
Hearing all this before Strika spends the time trying to intimidate the champion boxer with a glare and finds stern opposition as his single optic glares back across the short divide. She grins back and glares just as mean, more than ready for this.
"Ready... Steady...... GO!" Tightend yelled and jumped back.
The cheering and booing puts her back in the ring and she begins to press her advantage. He had the upper-body strength, but Strika was all muscle. She tries to see if she can take him down without replanting herself, but their arms hold steady, only shaking the table at the strength they were displaying. After a few minutes she replants herself and starts to put her whole weight behind her, smiling when she begins to see him sweat. As she begins to tip the scales the crowd explodes and the high energy fuels her propelling her to victory!
The noise is deafening as she raises her fists in triumph thinking, 'No one can stop me!'.
Turning around, Strika holds a hand out like a good sportsman for the fallen boxer as she had knocked him over the side of the table. He reached out to take her hand, but remained kneeling on one leg as he looks up blindingly impressed with her.
"Amazing." He breathed in his naturally gruff voice.
"Hmpf. Thanks. Not to bad yourself."
"Your praise is treasured. You were fantastic! You have been for the entire night, destroying your opponents like a general in battle, full of fury for the front. You are by far the best match I've ever faced! I gladly yield and ask, will you, Strika of Kalis, marry me?"
The regular rumbling of the crowd ceases so quickly that it puts Strika on edge as everyone holds a collective breath waiting for her response. But all she could do was stare dumbly at Lugnut. The suddenness of the question confused and surprised her. It also left her marginally flustered by the honest praise. This man, no younger than her, had the audacity and the courage – or stupidity – to ask her for a committed relationship on their first meeting!
Why?!
Yet for some reason she said,
"...Yes."
The memory fads away as the stolen car is turned off and Lugnut quietly bellows, "My dear, you may open your optics!"
She does and sees the familiar buildings of Iacon's docks. Looking over, Stika can't help raising an eyebrow at her husband.
"Vhy have you droven me to the docks? What vould be special here?"
"It is for our anniversary my mighty angel!" Lugnut replies, "A tiny and very sparkly afternoon dancer approached me —"
"Skrrt Skrrt?" Strika asks, confused about how she had found out.
"Yes! And she sends her love. She told me of something important and I had her information confirmed by Soundwave."
"And that something is for our anniversary date." She guesses, knowing the date was tomorrow.
"Yes! Tonight in about 20 minutes," And looking down at her watch she sees it will be 10:20 at that time, "at Dock Sigma a freighter called the Ark will be arriving with the newest EPF armor haven-class trucks."
She slowly raises her head at the news and sees Lugnut smiling, almost vibrating in happiness. Once again he had struck her silent in surprise.
"I know your beloved Lament was damaged in the last assault you took part in and you have been looking for one that would match up to it and do even better than before." He tells her and Strika smiles back at the concern Lugnut had for her broken armor truck.
Reaching out she caresses his face, "I’m sure Scalpel vould love to add new features to it," Strika says, allowing herself to imagine if they were successful in this heist, "He vould make it better than vhatever the EPF could design. But ve vould have to be quick and stealthy with the amount of officers. It vouldn’t be practical."
"Not to worry my beloved I have taken care of it." Lugnut boasts.
"Have you now?" She plays along.
"Yes! As I speak, your Team Charr is knocking over the warehouse district to distract the police and allow us a grand escape. I have also brought the tools to get rid of the rest of the trucks so you will have a one-of-a-kind vehicle!" He exclaims and Strika's hand drops as she realizes everything Lugnut had done.
"The gasoline I saw you pack in the back.... Lugnut this... A heist and arson? Oh you treat me too well." She tells him brightly, bringing her hands up to place on his shoulders and lean across the gearbox to hug him tightly.
"Anything for you my wondrous queen."
"Thank you my superb bruiser." She says quietly nuzzling his forehead.
They merrily drive away from the docks in her new truck and to the closest Decepticon garage as the Ark burns and sinks behind them with it’s destroyed cargo.
With more than half of the guards responding to the disturbance caused by her team the leftover guards were easy to knock unconscious without them seeing them. It was then a simple job to setting fire to the other nineteen trucks and placing a small explosive in between to bulkheads and rendering the ship incapable of saving itself.
As they pull into the garage Scalpel rolls out from underneath a car to yell at them only to freeze when he sees the new truck. Strika is sure she was about to see the small mechanic cry as he walked towards it entranced and promising to be ‘so good to it’. Leaving it with him to strip and rebuild they took a pleasant taxi cab ride home.
"That vas marvelous Lugnut! It reminds me in a vay of the demolition derby." She calls out as she walks back down from washing her hands.
"Ah. Anniversary six was magnificent," He agrees as he sets their small dining room table for dinner, “I greatly enjoyed the feeling of crushing other cars against the walls and rocks.”
Sitting down she smiles fondly at the man as he brings in the dishes using their mixing bowls as plate covers. It was always a treat for Lugnut to cook and she only wishes she could have been there to see it. Strika enjoyed seeing how serious Lugnut became when cooking, like he was sizing up someone in the ring. But he was also very lighthearted as he would hum to himself as well. Her husband was like a piece of hard candy with a soft lovable middle.
"Now I have another surprise." And with a flare that he couldn’t really pull off he presents her with a meal that paints a goofy smile on her face and brings tears to her optics.
It may not be a fancy dish, but the fact he went through the trouble of make the robust Kalisian soup she enjoyed as a child touches Strika greatly. It had the same savory aroma that filled her childhood and she knew it would taste as good as her husband's other meals. Why they didn’t always look the best and the couple never knew, but they were no less mouth-watering.
Strika relishes every bit of her anniversary meal as they eat in comfortable silence listening to light jazz from radio. They even had a good laugh when the music was interrupted with a news bulletin to talk briefly about the attacks around the docks. It was one of their more serene anniversaries, but Strika thinks she might end up remembering it the most.
With dinner finished she takes the plates in and puts everything away before grabbing two soups and the rocky road ice cream they both loved. But walking back out she sees Lugnut waiting at the table with a pink colored box.
"Another gift Lugnut?" Strika asks, becoming slightly overwhelmed by the night’s surprises. Her husband really did love her too much.
"My final gift of the night, my love. I promise." Lugnut smiles and gently passes the package over.
She places the spoons and carton down and gently takes the present, a decent size frame if she would guess, but what she finds is not what she expected. While it was obviously not painted by Motif or Palette it was a very good attempt in their style. The cool colors of the night swept up like a warm breeze and the building in the backdrop with it’s soft colors but bold design pull her optics to the center of the painting. At the center, the only warm colors present, were her and Lugnut sitting on a bench in the outdoor garden of the PUAM holding hands and leaning against each other, content and so happy.
"Lugnut...Its–I...," Slowly looking up Strika is truly at a loss for words at the gift. From the fact he saw her budding interest in art to him remembering what style she had grown to appreciate, "How?"
Coming to stand next to her Lugnut shyly shrugs as he take the painting and places on an open space leading into the living room.
"Orion Pax offered a friend who could paint to make the gift for you," He tells her softly as he steps back to look at the picture, "I just needed to tell him the setting and provide an image," And before Strika can asks about the pictures he says, "And do not fret. I did get the picture back and Orion Pax gave me the sketches."
Closing the short distance, Strika stands next to him and admires her very own painting, giddiness warring with her low exhaustion from tonight. Taking hold of her husband's hand she turns to face him and pulls him into a crushing hug.
"Lugnut. Thank you. Tonight was perfect."
"Only the best for you my glorious beauty," He whispers as he gently leans his head against her helm and nuzzles her temple, "I love you."
And another smile breaks out across her face, "I do as vell."
Sometimes Strika wonders how this all happened and she ended up living with loud antics, colorful praise, and adorable confusion as a part of her daily life that left her rolling her optics in fond annoyance. But most of the time she was very glad that she had been young and impulsive enough to say 'yes' to the boxer that night in the Tarnian arena.
