randomplaces | Armada verse. Cybertron. Nightwish

Bender shoves open the door to Rollbar's bar, dragging along a shaking and incoherently beeping Nightwind. He pauses to scan the room, then lifts his voice and bellows, "Thunderclash! Your girlfriend's in the lockup! She just ripped the leg off a spider tank!" He nearly loses his grip on Nightwind as she goes limp at his words, but hefts her up again grimly.

Thunderclash pauses in talking to Backtrack, then takes to the air to get over to them faster. "What happened?"

Backtrack's close behind him, despite having to go the long route. "Nightwind?"

"No idea," says the grey and green mech, finally going to one knee and lowering his fainting friend to the floor. "We heard them arguing and went to see what about, and then the tank did something and Nightwish ripped off his leg. It took three other tanks to hold her down and haul her off."

Thunderclash groans, letting Backtrack prop Nightwind up and hook up his drink to her (for revival purposes, of course). He hopes this Decepticon isn't going to be too high-maintenance... but on the other hand, this is such a nice opportunity.

Bender turns his attention to Nightwind as she whimpers, then puts his hand on her shoulder and says to Backtrack, "I've never seen anyone this skittish." Thunderclash is forgotten for the moment.

Backtrack shrugs."You haven't met many escapees, have you?"

"I haven't been awake that long," the sea'Con reminds him as Thunderclash checks to see that they're managing and then slips out of the room to make some calls.

* * *

It was a cold night in the city when they called Prowl down to the req. room. He'd had a call from Thunderclash, rumoured to have been a Decepticon Minicon, now the kind of guy everybody knew and everyone was friends with... or else. It wasn't a special job: some kid, a fast-looking 'bot with a car-alt, had a panic attack. Prowl wasn't the medic, but he knew enough to give them the all-clear on her.

It was when he asked what the trigger incident was that things got interesting.

Brawling tanks and a mystery jet, and it all added up to a smell of trouble. Prowl checked his weapons systems and headed out into the Bulk streets to look for some answers.

Elsewhere, Thunderclash sat back and sipped the last of his cube. He knew the story now, from everyone else's point of view but Nightwish's. He knew the detention staff very well. He was, he judged, about ready to go and see his wayward friend. With any luck, she'd stewed long enough to be ready for him. As a guard, Tenterhook had that habit of putting people on edge (though Thunderclash liked her, personally).

The grey Minicon finished his drink and stood up. Yes, he should really go and rescue his poor friend. She was so new to this city, and it was hard for a 'Con, these days. He took off, transforming to jet-mode, and headed for the detention centre.

But not too fast. The value of a friendly face rises with length of deprivation, after all. Thunderclash did like being valuable to people.

He had no trouble getting in, of course. Tenterhook left him to look through the forcefield and appreciate how much cleaner the cells were these days. Now, of course, he wasn't inside them. "Nightwish! I came as soon as I heard! Are you all right?"

A snort came from the berth, and then she turned her head, optics flickering online. "Thunderclash?"

She frowned at him for a moment, then rolled up to her feet and stretched before walking over and hunkering down curiously. "What are you doing here?"

He darted up, hovering around face height (though a little higher than her optic level). "I heard that you'd been arrested. What's going on?"

Her optics twitched toward the security cameras even as a slight hint of temper began to smolder in their dark violet depths. Her voice, however, was smooth as ever. "The slagging idiot started trash talking, so I trashed him."

Thunderclash didn't need to hide a smile, lacking one to cover. Temper, temper... "It must have been some strong-smelling trash, to get a reaction like that."

Her upswept wings twitched as she shrugged, not bothering to look at the fist hole she'd left in the back wall. "Speaking nicely didn't shut him up, so I tried something more pointed."

"I get what you're saying, but..." He shook his head. "It's too easy for a stranger to run into more trouble than they're looking for on this planet."

The dark jet-former's anger abruptly faded into a smile as she tilted her head to see him better, her optics now twinkling with amusement and something else. "Are you looking out for me?"

You catch on... fast. Thunderclash shifted, adopting a more serious air. "Will you let me?"

"Mmm. This time." Her rich voice was teasing and pleased.

"You've made the right choice," he said, sure to sound relieved. "Did they tell you what you're facing if you don't get bailed?"

"Mmmhmm," she said absently, her fingers curling as she looked at him and thought that it'd be nice to hold him in her hand again.

Thunderclash's visor dimmed slightly. "You'd need a reference from an officer, of course. I could contact your new superior..." Which would do her career a world of good.

"I don't suppose it would make any difference to mention that the other guy hit first?" she asked disinterestedly.

He paused in his thinking to give her a sidelong look. "Well... to an Autobot?"

She chuckled. "You know what to do."

Thunderclash blinked up at her in surprise, some of it genuine. "I do, huh?"

"Mmmhmm." Her mouth curved. "You're as smart as you are handsome."

"You're flattering me," he observed, voice smoothing and softening. "But I'll see if I can live up to your faith."

There was only confidence and a very, very faint trace of amusement- so faint that most would have missed it- in her bearing as she straightened and stretched again without taking her optics from him. "I'm telling the truth."

Thunderclash chuckled. "You're new around here, remember? You don't know the half of this place."

"Yeah. But I'm a good judge of character." She managed to make the words sound like a compliment, though she was turning away from him to examine the hole in the wall as though she'd forgotten he was there.

The Minicon shook his head a little, amused. Yes and, uh, no. "Then I guess I'll trust your judgment."

He looked at the Decepticon for a couple of seconds longer, then took off to catch up on some news. And to arrange her release, of course. All in due time.

* * *

Nightwish was actually pacing when he returned, her movements smooth and easy, though showing her impatience.

That impatience faded when she saw him, changing instead to another smile of greeting.

"I swear," he said, hovering up to the bars, visor dimmed and shaking his head, "honest-to-Primus, the people they have in these days. Bureaucrats and thugs."

Her expression showed sympathy. "Red tape and idiocy."

"And nothing but." He sighed, then perked up. "The good news for you is, they're letting you go."

"I knew you could do it." Her voice was warm with unconscious praise and something else. "When?"

Thunderclash listened for a second. "As soon as the supervisor gets down to release you." There were approaching footsteps. He thought they sounded like Tenterhook's.

Nightwish too was listening, her body poised and alert like some poem of arrested motion. But her optics remained on him and were unreadable behind the bit of warmth that she let show.

The tank-bot who came into view a minute later gave her a calculating look, then moved over to punch in the code and lower the forcefield. "Weapons are by the door."

"That's not a weapon." The warmth was gone from the smooth voice, leaving only the usual Decepticon dose of slight mockery as she stepped from the cell and paused just a little to see if Thunderclash wanted to sit on her.

The grey Minicon settled on her shoulder as Tenterhook shrugged and headed out. "What is it?" he asked, curious for his own sake.

"Something for you." Her voice was still hard as she scooped up the package in passing. Then they were out on the walkway and she looked up toward a freshly rebuilt tower through a break in the ceiling for a moment before engaging her thrusters and bringing them both up to where she could sit on the edge of the roof with her legs over the edge.

"For me?" Thunderclash held on, letting the pleasant surprise show in his voice. Behind it, of course, was wariness and rapid calculation. Decepticon gifts were mainly so from the perspective of the giver.

"Mmmhmm," she said softly, the hardness now gone from her voice as she lay it across her lap. "Maybe it'll take a bit of the edge off my debt."

"Debt?" Thunderclash echoed innocently, dropping to her lap to claim the gift. He might want to hold on to it.

She ran her fingers gently down his back as she watched him pick it up, not bothering to reply verbally just yet.

Thunderclash paused at the touch, both to analyse and to appreciate it. Then he slid off the covering, sensors eager to see what was inside even while he kept some on the Bulk for fear of a trap.

He recognised the sculpture immediately: he'd seen it a few days ago; pointed out the artist to Nightwish before. He lifted the carefully torn and twisted and reshaped metal, reflecting that yes, he was damn sure young Dawnsign was a winner.

And not the only one I'm backing, here.

"Oh yes," he said quietly. "Very good."

She smiled, one fingertip curling around to touch his face and give him a tiny tingle of electricity. "I thought you'd like it better than the bigger ones. Small things have their own charm."

Then she scowled and put a protective hand over him as another jet flashed past, her attitude tensing despite herself.

"I like to think so." Thunderclash smirked, aware of the double meaning and delighted by it. He'd never met a Bulk so amenable to his manipulations.

He did look surprised, though, at her response to the other jet. Good old possessiveness, back in town? He'd have to watch that.

"Sorry," said Nightwish softly, shifting so that he was seated on her now drawn up knee. "I guess I'm a little jumpy after what Crosshatch said."

"What did he say?" Thunderclash asked, glancing up at her. Never mind who Crosshatch was - that was easily found out.

She tilted her head just a little, her optics trained on his face. "I'd been asking around about you, and he said he didn't like you and had some dirt that he should spread. I laughed at that... like a grunt like him would have anything you're worried about. But then he started saying disgusting things about you and I, and tried to punch me." Cold menace suddenly radiated from her, though not focused at Thunderclash. "So I shut him up. Not the best way, but it works in a pinch."

Thunderclash nodded, silent for a few minutes. Crosshatch's life was going to get very interesting shortly. "But why were you asking about me? You could have just come to the source." Right? Right?

One slender finger poked him gently in the belly. "What a mech says about himself isn't always the same as what others have to say about him."

"All right. For most people. It is in my case."

"Mmm but I liked what they said. For the most part." She curled her fingers around him carefully, making sure he didn't feel trapped and thrilling yet again at his tiny perfection.

"Well, I wouldn't count Crosshatch as a source." He'd change his tune so soon, after all. Thunderclash leaned against Nightwish's fingers, examining the sculpture in his own hands once again.

She was counting on it. That's why she'd told him. The little grey mech knew this world and how it ran much better than she did yet. Though she hoped to learn under his tutelage.

Thought suddenly found itself in voice. "Does a Bulk have any chance of finding a place in a Minicon's spark?"

Thunderclash started and was still for a minute as his mind raced.

"They might," he said cautiously, looking up at her. He tightened his grip on the gift and shifted his stance unconsciously, ready to flee if it came up. "Anything's possible nowadays... Why do you ask?"

"Because." Her voice dropped as she let a trace of vulnerability show. "You're the most beautiful, intriguing, and exciting mech I've ever met."

Thunderclash stared at her, flatly astonished. Rare enough to hear anything like that from another Minicon... "I... uh, I see."

She shuttered her optics slightly and looked away as she took his reaction for shock and disgust. "Sorry."

"For what?" And he unfroze, some part of this feeling like familiar ground now. Thunderclash darted up to her shoulder. "I understand," he assured her. "There's a lot of people who wouldn't, but..."

"But...." The proud head was unbowed, but he'd be able to hear the slight irregularity of her engine as she waited for him to say how being that close to a Bulk would affect his career or some such words.

She understood that. But she'd had to find out for sure.

Sometimes, he wished he could smile winningly. "But you can count on me, of course." He slipped closer, stroking her cheek from close range.

"To see me as a handy tool? Or as someone you actually care about?" She turned her head and leaned it back to look at him, starting to growl at herself inwardly for mentioning this so soon.

He hesitated, then ran with it and took on a serious air. "Nightwish, honestly. You should know that when it comes to Minicons, using other people isn't our thing."

She shook her head. "I already know I'm not the only person that owes you. I don't care. I just want to know I'm not making a fool of myself."

"You're not." It wasn't hard to say. True, one might say that she was, pursuing a Minicon (and Thunderclash of all of them), but they would say that whether he returned the affection or not. And what she was doing needn't be foolish, he reasoned.

Those deep violet optics gazed at him for a moment. Then she nodded and said quietly, "I'll never try to own you."

Thunderclash watched her for a moment before he nodded. "No. I believe you won't." It was one of the most honest things he'd said to her yet - not totally honest, because he'd survived too long to stop watching his back now. But true enough, perhaps.

She knew he wouldn't let his guard down, and knew that she was probably setting herself up to be used. But she thought that she could deal with that, so long as Thunderclash himself never made fun of her for it.

Her hand came up and she gently smoothed his back with a finger. "I think we'll make a good team."

Thunderclash relaxed under her attentions, glad that she seemed to have stopped questioning. "Take my advice and count on it."

Nightwish tilted her head so that she could gently brush the side of his face with her lips, then looked out over the city as her finger played lightly up and down the edge of his wing.

Thunderclash smirked, wings quivering, and reached out to touch her helmet, slipping the sculpture safely into his cockpit. "Do you need repairs?"

"Hmmm?" Her optics returned to his face. Then she smirked slightly and shook her head carefully so as to not knock him down. "No. I'm fine."

"Good, good." He chuckled. "And maybe you should stay out of bars for a while, heh?"

That got him a slightly puzzled look.

"The bars are full of tanks. We wouldn't want to tempt you back into detention," he teased.

"So where else am I supposed to go when I'm off duty?" Slender brow plates arched with honest query.

Thunderclash smirked. "I forget how new you are." As if. "Meet me next time you get off and I'll have a whole list of places to show you."

She stroked his back again, absently wondering if this is part of a ploy to keep her from asking questions, and not feeling overly fussed about it. She'd learn things, and none of them would be to her partner's hurt. "Are you sure? I don't want to monopolize your time."

"Oh, I have plenty of time." And an astonishing capacity to multitask.

Nightwish chuckled as her fingers curled around him once more. "What about now?"

"I'm free." He rested his arms on the fingers around him, turning the grip into something like a casual seat. "And there's a flying graffiti column around these parts tonight."

"Flying graffiti?" She held him close to her cockpit, where he could hear the whisper of her spark and the purr of her engine. The question was absent, she was intent on gently stroking his head with the forefinger of her other hand.

He almost leaned into the touch, then decided to hold back for the moment. "A flying column of crack vandals. They're fun to tag along with." Also to keep friends among. The ability to make images and messages appear in mile-high form on public buildings overnight was far from inconsequential.

"Sounds like fun," she agreed, still lost in what she was doing.

Then her hands stilled and her head snapped up as she looked around sharply. "Someone's watching us."

Thunderclash looked up, less concerned privately than it seemed from his posture. "Who? Where?"

And a short distance away, the world's smallest police car reversed quietly out of sight, his sharp audios picking up their alarm. Prowl transformed, deciding it was better to play it casual than try to run.

She pinpointed the movement and homed in, her optics magnifying with a flyer's ease. //Looks like a Minicon. Some sort of car alt.//

//Ah.// Thunderclash turned to see as Prowl strolled out, heading their way. "Prowl."

Nightwish watched him for a moment, then gently tightened her grip on her partner and dove from the tower to meet the other tiny mech, a quick flip and a thud landing her on her feet before him as she let go of Thunderclash.

Prowl started a little as the far bigger robot thumped down in front of him, but looked up and nodded politely, looking to Thunderclash as the other Minicon landed beside him.

"Prowl," the grey mech greeted. "What brings you out here?"

"I checked on Nightwind," the rescue worker said, glancing at the Decepticon as she nodded back to him and then looked around. "She's fine. But she said there was a fight, and I wanted to see if everyone else involved was OK."

"Well, Nightwish here is fine," Thunderclash informed him, looking at her as he spoke.

The femme glanced down at sound of her name, her dark face impassive as she nodded in confirmation.

Prowl looked up at her, scanning her with the sharpened senses of a natural investigator (for that, unquestionably in his mind, was what he was). He nodded politely. "That's good. Crosshatch didn't manage to get a real hit in, huh?"

"I'm good at dodging." Her wings twitched, implying that it was an aerial thing.

He nodded. "And it helps if you've got more to fight for..."

She gave him a puzzled look, then returned her gaze to the rooftops around them.

Prowl looked between them, running a hand over the sensor arrays above his head. "Mind if I ask what happened?"

Nightwish turned her attention downward again, indifferent, slightly stressed, and bored. "I already gave my testimony."

Prowl blinked. "Uh, I'm... not with law enforcement."

She tilted her head and looked puzzled again, meanwhile asking privately, //Thunderclash?//

The grey jet was looking back out at the city, unconcerned. //Yes?//

//Do I have to talk to nosey guy? I'd rather go see the graffiti column.//

//Now, that's no way to talk about our friend here. He's just following his instincts.// Thunderclash turned back to them. "It's all right, Prowl. I already got the whole story out of her. Just a bit of Decepticon... fun."

"Yes." She nodded, smiling slightly in the way she knew made her look as innocent as a freshly built rookie. "Thunderclash is showing me the ropes here, so I won't run into that sort of trouble again."

Prowl nodded. "Right. Well, if you need anything..."

Thunderclash chuckled. "I know who to call. Thank you, Prowl."

Nightwish echoed the thanks with absent warmth, then turned her head and looked toward a distant thread of sound. "It's good to know there are people watching out for newcomers like me."

"You'll find that about Cybertron," said Thunderclash. "We're always looking out for newcomers."

Prowl was already in vehicle mode and heading away before he thought to check what that meant.

Nightwish watched him go, then went to one knee and offered her partner an electric kiss. "So...."

He smirked and turned to her. "So, how about we go track down some guerrilla graffitiists?"

Her smirk was a mate to his. "Your wings or mine?"

((Co-written with

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