[TF] Past Impending 04
Jun. 28th, 2018 06:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Past Impending
Universe: All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Rodimus, Starscream, Drift/Deadlock, Sunstreaker, Turmoil, Original Character(s)
Pairings: past Rodimus/Drift, Starscream/Sunstreaker, past Rodimus/Turmoil
Rated: T
Warnings: implied bad things including physical and sexual abuse
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.
Part Four
Hexic was banned, if Streamline was to be believed. Rodimus didn’t put much stock in it. Besides, Hexic was gone but there were others. There would always be others. Turmoil had so much influence that it was a moot point.
Rodimus’ wrist healed. Wrench did good work. He always did.
Blue Sun returned to normal. Or normal-ish.
There was a tension between Sunstreaker and Starscream now. One both of them ignored and pretended wasn’t there, but Rodimus could feel it. Other escorts could feel it. The tension was in the air, the atmosphere, it was infectious. But if you asked either of them, they’d say the same thing: nothing was wrong.
“They’re never going to figure it out, kid,” Wrench said as he examined Rodimus’ wrist, checking the welds for issues or microfissures. “Not unless something happens to make them confront their feelings.”
“What kind of something?” Rodimus asked.
“Something neither of them can ignore,” Wrench grunted. He sighed, looking sad and old, as he sometimes did. “And something tells me that’s coming sooner rather than later.”
“I hope so,” Rodimus said.
“Me too, kid.” Wrench patted him on the wrist. “You’re all set. Literally. Do me a favor and don’t come to see me again soon. Unless you’re not injured and just want to spend some time with a cranky rust-aft.”
Rodimus laughed. “You’re not cranky.”
“Notice you didn’t deny the rust.”
“Well, I’m not that generous.”
Rodimus grinned as Wrench gave him a playful push toward the door, and out he went. He was ready to get back to work, so rather than return to his dorm room, he altered course and headed for Streamline’s office.
Wrench would probably send him a message to let him know Rodimus was ready for duty, but Rodimus wanted to start as soon as possible. The longer he was out on med-leave, the less creds he made, and the longer he’d be stuck at Blue Sun. It wasn’t the worst place to work, honestly, but Rodimus wanted more for himself than this.
Streamline’s door was open, but the manager wasn’t inside. Rodimus frowned, about to ping Streamline for his location, when he heard a commotion down the hall, coming from Compute’s office. He picked up Streamline’s voice amid Compute’s monotone. It didn’t sound like an argument, but something else.
Curious, Rodimus crept toward the doorway, loitering just outside of it. He shamelessly eavesdropped, wondering what kind of gossip he could pick up on this time.
“I’ve always kept those accounts separate,” Compute said, his fingers going clickity-clack over his keyboard. “They are ready to transfer and close at a moment’s notice.”
“Then do it. I don’t need any more attention than I already have,” Streamline snapped. “What about transfer tracking?”
“All accounts are owned by a subsidiary company untraceable to you.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am always certain.”
It was easy to tell their voices apart, Streamline’s higher in pitch and near-hysterics, Compute a steady, stern monotone that held no inflection whatsoever. Rodimus had no clue what they were talking about. Untraceable creds? Tracking? Accounts? Was Streamline planning on going somewhere?
“That fragger is not going to drag me down with him,” Streamline snarled, and Rodimus heard the distinct sound of a datapad hitting the ground, the screen cracking, and then the crunch of a foot stomping down on top of it. “I told him to be careful. I told him to stop playing those games. But did he listen? Of course not.”
“Of course not,” Compute echoed. “Transfer complete.”
“Good. Erase all evidence the account ever existed in the first place. I may have to do this one last job, but I’ll damned if I keep records of why. As far as anyone else is concerned, he’s just another customer.”
“Algorithm running. Should be deleted within the hour.”
“I knew there was a reason I paid you so much.” Streamline laughed, but it was a dark laugh. “Alright. I’ve got to get back on the sales floor before anyone gets suspicious. You can handle things here?”
Frag.
Rodimus nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to scramble away from the door, missing whatever Compute’s reply had been. He raced down the hallway and around the corner, spark pounding in his chassis. He shuttered his optics, cycled a ventilation, and planted a smile on his face. He counted to three, and then he started forward again, a whistle on his lips. He rounded the corner and nearly collided with Streamline.
“Boss!” Rodimus greeted cheerfully. “Wrench cleared me. See?” He waved his newly repaired hand in the air. “Can you please put me back on the sales floor?”
Streamline pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your medical leave extends through the rest of the evening shift, Rodimus.” His field was a chaotic, if not muted, swirl of agitation. His face was pinched with agitation, and if he meant to run, Rodimus couldn’t tell.
“But I’m okay now.” Rodimus waved his hand again, flopping his wrist to make a point. “Come on, boss. You know I need the creds.”
“Fine.” Streamline flicked his fingers. “Go to the sales floor. But you’re only to take conventional clients. Nothing hard-edged. If you get injured again, you’ll be worse off than before, and I’m going to tack on an extra percentage to your interest. Understand?”
Rodimus tucked his hands behind his back, rising and falling on his heels. “Clear as Praxian crystal, boss.”
“Go on then. Get cleaned up.”
Rodimus saluted and made himself scarce. Work at Blue Sun long enough and you became an excellent actor. Good enough to even fool Streamline it seemed.
Rodimus headed back toward his dorm. He was glad to get back to work, and he would need a wash up and wipe down before he did so. But what he’d overheard lingered in his head. What did it mean? Who was Streamline talking about? Who was going down? What last job?
Rodimus knew Streamline had many business contacts, most of which were black market dealers or ran illegal businesses. Streamline seemed to prefer the shadier deals. They earned the most money.
Blue Sun was an excellent front for all kinds of trade: stolen artifacts, drugs, information. Streamline peddled it all. He was an excellent middleman.
So which of his other halves finally got outed by the Enforcers?
Rodimus might never know. It didn’t matter. Streamline wasn’t going to get caught with his business contacts, and he still owned Rodimus’ debt. So long as those two constants remained, well, constant, Rodimus was stuck here.
For better or for worse.
~
Tension simmered in the atmosphere of Blue Sun like one of Wheeljack’s experiments, vents held for the moment it would explode. Ever since the Hexic incident, it felt like everyone was snappish, short of temper.
Rodimus jumped at shadows, Sunstreaker was unapproachable, and Starscream lingered in a constant state of agitation. Something was coming, Starscream was sure of it. His instincts had served him well a week ago, when Rodimus got injured. He’d bet a week’s earnings his instincts were right today as well.
The foreboding intensified when Starscream hit the sales floor and found a flurry of activity. Custodial staff were in a frenzy of cleaning and polishing. Preppers rushed to fill cisterns and pile plates high with goodies. Other escorts primped and preened in front of mirrors and each other, chattering excitedly.
Streamline oversaw it all, his lips in a firm line, his orbital ridge drawn into a glower. One would think they were about to go to war, rather than opening for the day. It made Starscream very uneasy.
“What’s going on?”
Beside him, Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. “Why would I know?” He moved past Starscream, focused on the dais where he usually perched. He had a session scheduled with Sideswipe much later, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be on the sales floor now, trying to encourage more purchases.
Starscream cycled a ventilation before he snapped at his roommate, who had been colder than usual as of late. “Do you think it has something to do with what Rodimus overheard?”
“It’s none of my business, whatever it is,” Sunstreaker said. He paused and looked over his shoulder, something flickering over his face before a mask of indifference fell over it again. “And none of yours either. We’re here to work. That’s all that matters.”
Hurt throbbed through Starscream’s spark. He chased it away with irritation. “Thanks for the reminder. I needed that,” he snapped and spun on a heelstrut.
“Star--”
He ignored Sunstreaker. Easy enough, as Sunstreaker had been a frigid roommate for the past week. Starscream instead scanned the sales floor.
Everyone was in place. Even Rodimus had arrived early for once, standing over to the side with his roommates, a tight smile on his face, his armor taut to his frame.
Starscream drifted toward him, scanning the floor again. Streamline still stood, lord of it all. There was a guard at every position, Drift and Spinner stationed together near the double doors leading back toward the receiving rooms.
The first of the days customers trickled in, greeted with laughs and smiles by the escorts nearest the front doors. They were ushered to seats, plied with treats and drink. A couple of them were familiar faces, though Starscream hadn’t serviced them before.
“Everything all right?”
Starscream blinked out of his fugue at the light touch to his arm. Rodimus looked up at him with a frown, his field wafting concern.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Starscream offered him a thin smile and hooked his elbow with Rodimus’. “Come on, rookie. Let’s go greet the customers.”
“Uh, isn’t that usually a job for the actual rookies?” Rodimus asked, but he went along anyway, his field reaching out to Starscream’s with a mixture of affection and comfort.
“Never hurts to provide some extra incentive,” Starscream near-sang, and winked playfully.
His comm pinged, the ident code belonging to Streamline. Starscream went rigid, glancing over his shoulder. Streamline’s visor burned his direction. Fantastic. What had he done to incur the boss’ wrath this time?
Starscream patted Rodimus on the arm. “Entice a rich one,” he purred. “I’ll be right back.”
Rodimus’ frown deepened. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“I’m sure.” Starscream hoped he sounded more reassuring as he felt.
He urged Rodimus toward the door, and turned back to the main room. He slipped through the gathered escorts and servers to make his way to Streamline lurking at the back, per the usual. Streamline was visibly tense, his armor drawn to taut, that he appeared a statute, one that might shatter if touched.
“Yes, boss?”
Streamline pointed to the floor directly next to him. Starscream obediently moved closer, his wings twitching and his instincts clawing for attention.
“We have an important client today, Starscream.” Streamline stared hard at the front door, focusing hard on each new arrival. “And I know you’ve formed an attachment to Rodimus.”
Starscream’s orbital ridges flattened. “What does one have to do with the—oh.”
“Yes. And you are not to interfere. Do you understand me?”
Starscream’s hands drew into loose fists. “Why should there be any need to interfere?” he asked with false cheer and a smile. “Blue Sun protects its staff, does it not? Certainly you wouldn’t allow for any harm to come to one of your escorts.”
Streamline’s optics narrowed. “Do not take me for a fool, Starscream. You may be one of my most valuable escorts, but you are not irreplaceable.”
He shifted, slowly enough that his hydraulics creaked, and he glare. “Mind your own business. Make sure the whelp behaves. And we’ll all end the day much richer than we began it. Understand?”
Starscream grinned, and if he happened to bear his sharpened denta, so be it. “Yes, boss. Clear as Praxian crystal.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, wings canted across his back in fake deference. “Shall I get back to work now?”
Streamline flicked fingers at him. “Go.”
Starscream didn’t have to be told twice.
He returned to the sales floor, further convinced that there was reason to be wary. If Turmoil was going to be here, that could only mean trouble. Turmoil had not set foot through the doors of Blue Sun since abandoning Rodimus here. Or if he had, Starscream was not aware of it.
More customers had trickled in, which wasn’t unusual. This day of the week, they were often packed early, so much so Streamline had considered extending their hours of availability. Turmoil had not yet appeared. Starscream’s anxiousness notched up another level, more for Rodimus’ sake than his own.
There was a new arrival in one of the booths, however. Starscream recognized the black and white paint and symbols on the mech’s sensory panels as belonging to the Enforcers, and a high-ranking one at that.
What on Cybertron was a high-ranking Enforcer doing here? In the middle of the day? Not even making the least attempt to be furtive? He currently sat between Atomizer and Flare, his expression one of disinterest despite being surrounded by such pretty specimens.
Starscream frowned.
It wasn’t the rarity of an Enforcer. No, they were common enough in Blue Sun. They were more likely to indulge in the newer and therefore cheaper patrons. But it wasn’t illegal to purchase the services offered by Blue Sun. Nor was it something an Enforcer would face censure for.
Someone as high of rank as this mech, however? That was the unusual part. Starscream could not recall a single instance of a high-ranking Enforcer sitting casually in the main service hall. They, as a rule, seemed to prefer the private rooms, booking their companion for the evening prior to their arrival so as to spend as little time being recognized as possible.
Cool blue optics caught Starscream looking. They were as cold as liquid nitrogen, and they had all the sharpness of a vibroblade.
Starscream shivered and looked away. He did not like that mech.
He sought more comforting ground and caught a familiar face in the thickening crowd. Nightshade was a bit earlier than usual, but that wasn’t suspicious. It had been some time since Starscream had least seen one of his favorite customers. His spark rippled with delight. Starscream checked Rodimus’ position – still greeting at the door – and made his way to Nightshade’s side.
Nightshade hadn’t selected a booth for once. Instead, he’d picked a stool at the bar, and he lounged comfortably atop it, sipping on one of his favorite concoctions – a weak energon spritzer.
“My favorite wings,” Nightshade purred and gestured to the empty stool beside him. “Do you have time for me today?”
“I always have time for you.” Starscream leaned in, giving Nightshade a chaste peck on the cheek. It was the only physical contact Nightshade welcomed without invitation and without flinching. “By which I mean, I’m not spoken for already, so whenever you want a little privacy, let me know.”
Nightshade chuckled and slid an arm around Starscream’s waist. “You do know how much I enjoy observing first.”
“I do.” Starscream leaned in close, though he struggled to hold on to his usual flirtatious banter. “Perhaps later you might want to observe me with another? I know Rodimus is free as well.”
“Mm. He is a delight.” Nightshade sipped at his drink, his optics sharply assessing. “Is everything alright, Starscream?”
“Now that you’re here, of course it is,” Starscream replied with a laugh. He teased Nightshade with his field, though his attention wandered to the sales floor. “Wouldn’t you rather a booth? They are far more comfortable.”
“I would. I was simply waiting for you to escort me.” Nightshade slid down from the stool, offering Starscream his elbow. “They do seem to be filling up fast.”
Starscream slipped his arm through Nightshade’s. “A lot of new faces tonight, I’ve noticed.” He tried to hold on to his cheer. “If I’d known you were going to be here so early, I’d have reserved you a booth.”
“Mm. I did notice the new high spenders.” Nightshade swept up his drink from the bar with the other hand. “Prowl even took my favorite booth.”
Prowl? Was that the Enforcers name? How did Nightshade know of him?
Starscream tucked himself against Nightshade’s side, his field stroking apologetically over his patron’s. “You know this Prowl?”
“I know of him.” Nightshade’s jaw visibly clenched. “Even in circles such as mine, there are certain designations to remember. His is one of them.”
They slipped into the lounge area, choosing one of the empty two-cushioned lounges. Nightshade sat first, drawing Starscream down next to him.
“He’s an Enforcer,” Nightshade continued as he deftly grabbed a engex cooler from a passing server and handed the delicate goblet to Starscream. “With an interest in, shall we say, unique artifacts.”
Starscream glanced in ‘Prowl’s’ direction, but Prowl was taking no more notice of him. Instead, the Enforcer’s attention was on Atomizer, currently whispering into his audial.
“So he’s dirty,” Starscream said, no louder than a murmur. He hadn’t meant to voice the observation aloud, but he couldn’t hide his disgust either.
There were few things he despised more than a crooked lawmech, and there were plenty of such to found in the city.
“Perhaps.” Nightshade rubbed a thumb over the curve of Starscream’s jaw. “But that’s nothing you should worry about. No doubt he is here for the same reason anyone else visits Blue Sun.”
Starscream made a noncommittal noise. He sipped at his engex cooler – it would no more impair him than the weak spritzer – and settled in closer to Nightshade. He would be here the rest of the evening, he suspected.
So he pinged Sunstreaker and hoped his roommate was in a helpful mood.
‘Sunny, can you do me a favor?’
‘Oh, are you talking to me now?’
‘I’m serious. Can you watch after Rodimus? Turmoil’s supposed to be here later.’
From across the room, he saw Sunstreaker stiffen and his optics narrow. ‘Fine.’
He rose from his lounge, languid, gleaming grace. Starscream’s spark tightened with want at the sight of them. Their little cold war had meant frigid berths for the both of them, and Starscream missed Sunstreaker something fierce.
‘Thank you.’
There was no reply. He didn’t expect one.
At least Sunstreaker had agreed.
Starscream returned his attention to Nightshade, trying to bury his tension down deep so it didn’t interfere with his client’s time. But if he kept one sensor trained on Rodimus, no one could hardly blame him.
~
Sunstreaker had never set out intending to care about Starscream’s little pet project. But somehow, Rodimus had not only squirmed his way into their lives, he’d wormed his way under Sunstreaker’s armor, and between him and Starscream. Rodimus had become a nuisance, and an issue, and someone Sunstreaker thought he should protect.
Starscream’s request jolted Sunstreaker off his lounge before he thought twice about it. He, like Starscream, had been steadily cultivating a loathing for Turmoil.
To have that piece of garbage come here, to a place of relative safety, it was intolerable.
Sunstreaker couldn’t take a client right now. At least, not one who’d want him for his unique skills. Not with Sideswipe scheduled to arrive in an hour. Skids had already been by to drop off a small box Sideswipe wished to use during their session. But Sunstreaker’s presence on the sales floor would facilitate more transactions.
Starscream had to entertain Nightshade. Sunstreaker would see to Rodimus.
He moved toward the front door, trying to make his pace unhurried, as though he drifted through the growing crowd not because he had a purpose, but because he was a king mingling with his throng. They were busy already, an hour after opening, and all but one of the lounges were taken up with the richer of their patrons.
The empty one, perched between an Enforcer Sunstreaker did not recognize and Nightshade and Starscream, had a Reserved placard placed upon the seat. Sunstreaker had little doubt it was meant for Turmoil. Prime seating, of course. Streamline had to keep his business contacts happy.
Ugh.
Sunstreaker paused by one of the emergency exits, guarded by a single mech as there was no handle to enter from the outside. It only required a guard because there was the occasional patron who tried to skip out on his bill. Or snatch an escort and run.
“All’s well, sir,” Scorch said. He dipped his head out of politeness, the sort only the new guards bothered with. He’d only been here a week. He’d learn it wasn’t necessary.
Streamline was hiring an unusual amount of help lately. But then, they’d had a few mechs disappear, never to arrive for their shifts so perhaps he was only replacing lost employees. Times were hard. Sometimes, mechs lost themselves to the gutter.
Sunstreaker offered a thin smile. “I’m not your superior in any fashion. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ though I appreciate the respect.”
“Oh. But you are Sunstreaker, right? The top, um, dom here?” Scorch’s crimson face darkened in hue. He shifted his weight, hand tightening around the shaft of his energon lance.
“I am Sunstreaker. And I am the highest paid escort here in Blue Sun,” Sunstreaker confirmed. He liked the kid, awkward though he was. “So nothing out of the ordinary then?”
Scorch shook his head. “Not unless you count the stray cybercat I saw rooting around in the bins. Its been loitering for a week now, from what I hear though. Guess it’s hoping for a free meal.”
“Aren’t we all,” Sunstreaker murmured. Cybercats were of no interest to him.
He skimmed the gathered crowd, growing in abundance now. Another of Starscream’s favorite clients – Bluestreak – was here with his sub, the two of them unaccompanied for now. They curled together on one of the smaller lounges against the wall, looking as though they were about to put on an erotic floor show. Streamline would stop them before things got too messy.
Sunstreaker moved on.
Business was brisk. Clients moved into the back with their chosen companions. The cheaper, for lack of a better word, escorts were in high demand today. It would be a good day for sales.
Despite that, Sunstreaker’s internals twisted into a knot. Starscream’s worry had left him with a tension all his own. Or maybe that was the sudden ripple of unease in the ambient fields, like a dark shroud had dropped on the gleam and glitter of Blue Sun.
Sunstreaker turned toward the door and located the source of the tension.
Turmoil darkened the doorway, massive and broad, his armor dark as though it had been blackened by the Pit. He had facemask and visor both, the latter a crimson hue.
And Rodimus was in the greeting line. Rodimus turned into a statue. His spoiler went still. Color bleached from his face. His smile froze in place, better a grimace.
Had no one thought to warn him?
Turmoil’s head swiveled toward Rodimus as though there was magnetic attraction. His visor flashed, and if he hadn’t had a facemask, Sunstreaker knew he’d be smirking, like a predator who’d cornered his prey.
Sunstreaker moved before he had to tell his feet to do so. He managed to get to Rodimus’ side in enough time to catch the tail end of Turmoil’s undoubtedly inappropriate comment.
“--favorite,” Turmoil rasped in a tone that was just shy of lewd. “I’d say it’s a shame what happened, but from what I hear, you’re serving my mechs well.”
Rodimus’ vents stuttered. He fell back a pace, and collided with Sunstreaker’s chest, his entire frame jolting with surprise.
Sunstreaker stared hard at Turmoil as he put a gentle hand on Rodimus’ shoulder. He leaned forward, speaking into Rodimus’ audial, though he kept Turmoil’s gaze.
“Nightshade’s summoned you, Hot Rod. Attend to him.”
“What a shame,” Turmoil said, his voice like gravel in gears. “I was hoping I could experience your services for myself.” He leaned in, and Sunstreaker did not miss the way Rodimus leaned back, into Sunstreaker’s embrace, as though Sunstreaker could and would protect him.
Sunstreaker smiled, wishing he could bare sharpened denta like Starscream. “Unfortunately, we are first-come, first-serve here.” He patted Rodimus on the shoulder again. “Go on, Hot Rod. You know Nightshade doesn’t like to wait.”
Rodimus shuddered beneath Sunstreaker’s fingertips. “Yes, sir,” he said, in the quietest, most subservient tone Sunstreaker had ever heard from him.
He slid across Sunstreaker’s frame as though moving even a step closer to Turmoil would be his undoing, and then he fled to the circle of lounges, where Nightshade and Starscream had taken up perch. He would still be close to Turmoil unfortunately, but Nightshade had premier status in Blue Sun. If anyone’s influence could protect Rodimus, it was Nightshade’s.
Turmoil watched Rodimus go with hunger burning in his visor. Anger flashed hot and ferocious through Sunstreaker’s frame.
In that moment, he understood why Starscream protected Rodimus so adamantly.
“Such a shame,” Turmoil repeated before his gaze slid to Sunstreaker. “Then will you escort me to my seat?” He looked Sunstreaker up and down. “You don’t look as breakable, but I think we could have some fun nonetheless.”
“I’m spoken for as well,” Sunstreaker said. “But I’d be happy to arrange for someone else to accompany you.” The script tumbled from his lips on rote. “If you’ll follow me, I believe we have a lounge reserved for you.”
He didn’t wait for Turmoil to agree. He turned and expected Turmoil to follow, though his spark broiled and anger simmered. He led Turmoil to the reserved lounge, and since Streamline didn’t ping him to contradict, Sunstreaker knew he’d been correct.
Turmoil paused before sitting, however. He glanced over at Nightshade, dismissing him immediately, but his attention lingered on the Enforcer to his other side.
“Prowl,” he greeted in a tone that reeked of glee. “I see you arrived before me. Already partaking of the delights, too.”
Prowl, apparently, tipped his head, one hand stroking down Atomizer’s thigh. “Unlike some mechs, I understand the value of time. I am never late.” His statement was pointed.
Turmoil barked a laugh and flopped down into the lounge. “They said your glossa could be cutting.” He spread his arms across the back of the seat. “It’s a bit dull to me, but who I am to judge?”
“I was being polite.” Ice-blue optics narrowed. “I’ll make sure to dispense with the formalities from this point forward.” Prowl set his jaw. “Did you bring me the item I asked for?”
Turmoil waved him off. “Please. Let me get my entertainment before we talk official business. That’s what we’re here for.”
Prowl sniffed and flicked his sensory panels. “If you insist.” He turned into Atomizer’s neck, his hand sliding further up Atomizer’s thigh, toward his groin.
Atomizer giggled, a sound Sunstreaker found wholly unappealing, but Prowl seemed to enjoy it.
Turmoil spread his thighs, taking an obnoxious amount of space in the lounge. His two buffoon guards took up point behind me.
“Now you,” he said, directing his growl at Sunstreaker. “You’ve already denied me the tasty treat I wanted to ruin, so why don’t you bring me something else?”
Sunstreaker twitched. He planted a fake smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.” The script demanded a ‘sir’.
He refused.
One of Turmoil’s guards – the tall, gangly one – leaned down and murmured into his boss’ audial. Turmoil’s visor turned stormy, his engine revving harshly.
“I don’t need the reminder,” he growled. “This is business, too.” Turmoil flicked his hand at Sunstreaker. “Shoo. Get me your master instead. I’m sure he can give me what I want.”
It rankled, the casual disrespect. But Sunstreaker pressed his lips together, tipped his head in a bow, and dismissed himself. The further he moved from Turmoil, the better.
He pinged Streamline, not that it was necessary. Streamline was already making his way through the crowd, heading straight for Turmoil, his optics narrowed and his face pinched. Apparently he didn’t like being summoned anymore than Sunstreaker appreciated being dismissed.
Sunstreaker returned to his perch. Rodimus was safely with Starscream and Nightshade. He curled in Starscream’s lap and fed Starscream treats which Nightshade must have purchased for them to enjoy.
Voyeurs like Nightshade were beyond Sunstreaker’s capacity to fathom. He couldn’t imagine getting pleasure from watching and never participating. Or spending the amount of creds Nightshade did just to enjoy a view.
It was baffling.
Sunstreaker reclined in his perch, but couldn’t relax. He felt the tension in the air, like an itch under his plating. Turmoil laughed loudly where he sat, and grabbed one of the passing escorts, tossing the femme into his lap. Luckily, Aeroline was not the sort to protest. She only squeaked cutely, tossed her feet, and giggled. Either she didn’t know who Turmoil was, or it made no difference to her.
Aeroline could take care of herself.
Streamline made gestures, but Turmoil only seemed to be paying half attention to him. The rest was split between the treat sprawled in his lap – Aeroline – and the occasionally exchanged conversation with Prowl.
Whatever their business was, Turmoil seemed to be amused by delaying it. His loud barks of laughter occasionally burst through the low hum of conversation. Prowl’s frown grew deeper, no matter how hard Atomizer pressed to his side.
Tension simmered, like a frayed serpentine belt moments from snapping.
Sunstreaker would have to be ready to act. Starscream was too close to Turmoil, and far too protective of Rodimus.
Who knew what he would do.
***
Universe: All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Rodimus, Starscream, Drift/Deadlock, Sunstreaker, Turmoil, Original Character(s)
Pairings: past Rodimus/Drift, Starscream/Sunstreaker, past Rodimus/Turmoil
Rated: T
Warnings: implied bad things including physical and sexual abuse
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.
Hexic was banned, if Streamline was to be believed. Rodimus didn’t put much stock in it. Besides, Hexic was gone but there were others. There would always be others. Turmoil had so much influence that it was a moot point.
Rodimus’ wrist healed. Wrench did good work. He always did.
Blue Sun returned to normal. Or normal-ish.
There was a tension between Sunstreaker and Starscream now. One both of them ignored and pretended wasn’t there, but Rodimus could feel it. Other escorts could feel it. The tension was in the air, the atmosphere, it was infectious. But if you asked either of them, they’d say the same thing: nothing was wrong.
“They’re never going to figure it out, kid,” Wrench said as he examined Rodimus’ wrist, checking the welds for issues or microfissures. “Not unless something happens to make them confront their feelings.”
“What kind of something?” Rodimus asked.
“Something neither of them can ignore,” Wrench grunted. He sighed, looking sad and old, as he sometimes did. “And something tells me that’s coming sooner rather than later.”
“I hope so,” Rodimus said.
“Me too, kid.” Wrench patted him on the wrist. “You’re all set. Literally. Do me a favor and don’t come to see me again soon. Unless you’re not injured and just want to spend some time with a cranky rust-aft.”
Rodimus laughed. “You’re not cranky.”
“Notice you didn’t deny the rust.”
“Well, I’m not that generous.”
Rodimus grinned as Wrench gave him a playful push toward the door, and out he went. He was ready to get back to work, so rather than return to his dorm room, he altered course and headed for Streamline’s office.
Wrench would probably send him a message to let him know Rodimus was ready for duty, but Rodimus wanted to start as soon as possible. The longer he was out on med-leave, the less creds he made, and the longer he’d be stuck at Blue Sun. It wasn’t the worst place to work, honestly, but Rodimus wanted more for himself than this.
Streamline’s door was open, but the manager wasn’t inside. Rodimus frowned, about to ping Streamline for his location, when he heard a commotion down the hall, coming from Compute’s office. He picked up Streamline’s voice amid Compute’s monotone. It didn’t sound like an argument, but something else.
Curious, Rodimus crept toward the doorway, loitering just outside of it. He shamelessly eavesdropped, wondering what kind of gossip he could pick up on this time.
“I’ve always kept those accounts separate,” Compute said, his fingers going clickity-clack over his keyboard. “They are ready to transfer and close at a moment’s notice.”
“Then do it. I don’t need any more attention than I already have,” Streamline snapped. “What about transfer tracking?”
“All accounts are owned by a subsidiary company untraceable to you.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am always certain.”
It was easy to tell their voices apart, Streamline’s higher in pitch and near-hysterics, Compute a steady, stern monotone that held no inflection whatsoever. Rodimus had no clue what they were talking about. Untraceable creds? Tracking? Accounts? Was Streamline planning on going somewhere?
“That fragger is not going to drag me down with him,” Streamline snarled, and Rodimus heard the distinct sound of a datapad hitting the ground, the screen cracking, and then the crunch of a foot stomping down on top of it. “I told him to be careful. I told him to stop playing those games. But did he listen? Of course not.”
“Of course not,” Compute echoed. “Transfer complete.”
“Good. Erase all evidence the account ever existed in the first place. I may have to do this one last job, but I’ll damned if I keep records of why. As far as anyone else is concerned, he’s just another customer.”
“Algorithm running. Should be deleted within the hour.”
“I knew there was a reason I paid you so much.” Streamline laughed, but it was a dark laugh. “Alright. I’ve got to get back on the sales floor before anyone gets suspicious. You can handle things here?”
Frag.
Rodimus nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to scramble away from the door, missing whatever Compute’s reply had been. He raced down the hallway and around the corner, spark pounding in his chassis. He shuttered his optics, cycled a ventilation, and planted a smile on his face. He counted to three, and then he started forward again, a whistle on his lips. He rounded the corner and nearly collided with Streamline.
“Boss!” Rodimus greeted cheerfully. “Wrench cleared me. See?” He waved his newly repaired hand in the air. “Can you please put me back on the sales floor?”
Streamline pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your medical leave extends through the rest of the evening shift, Rodimus.” His field was a chaotic, if not muted, swirl of agitation. His face was pinched with agitation, and if he meant to run, Rodimus couldn’t tell.
“But I’m okay now.” Rodimus waved his hand again, flopping his wrist to make a point. “Come on, boss. You know I need the creds.”
“Fine.” Streamline flicked his fingers. “Go to the sales floor. But you’re only to take conventional clients. Nothing hard-edged. If you get injured again, you’ll be worse off than before, and I’m going to tack on an extra percentage to your interest. Understand?”
Rodimus tucked his hands behind his back, rising and falling on his heels. “Clear as Praxian crystal, boss.”
“Go on then. Get cleaned up.”
Rodimus saluted and made himself scarce. Work at Blue Sun long enough and you became an excellent actor. Good enough to even fool Streamline it seemed.
Rodimus headed back toward his dorm. He was glad to get back to work, and he would need a wash up and wipe down before he did so. But what he’d overheard lingered in his head. What did it mean? Who was Streamline talking about? Who was going down? What last job?
Rodimus knew Streamline had many business contacts, most of which were black market dealers or ran illegal businesses. Streamline seemed to prefer the shadier deals. They earned the most money.
Blue Sun was an excellent front for all kinds of trade: stolen artifacts, drugs, information. Streamline peddled it all. He was an excellent middleman.
So which of his other halves finally got outed by the Enforcers?
Rodimus might never know. It didn’t matter. Streamline wasn’t going to get caught with his business contacts, and he still owned Rodimus’ debt. So long as those two constants remained, well, constant, Rodimus was stuck here.
For better or for worse.
Tension simmered in the atmosphere of Blue Sun like one of Wheeljack’s experiments, vents held for the moment it would explode. Ever since the Hexic incident, it felt like everyone was snappish, short of temper.
Rodimus jumped at shadows, Sunstreaker was unapproachable, and Starscream lingered in a constant state of agitation. Something was coming, Starscream was sure of it. His instincts had served him well a week ago, when Rodimus got injured. He’d bet a week’s earnings his instincts were right today as well.
The foreboding intensified when Starscream hit the sales floor and found a flurry of activity. Custodial staff were in a frenzy of cleaning and polishing. Preppers rushed to fill cisterns and pile plates high with goodies. Other escorts primped and preened in front of mirrors and each other, chattering excitedly.
Streamline oversaw it all, his lips in a firm line, his orbital ridge drawn into a glower. One would think they were about to go to war, rather than opening for the day. It made Starscream very uneasy.
“What’s going on?”
Beside him, Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. “Why would I know?” He moved past Starscream, focused on the dais where he usually perched. He had a session scheduled with Sideswipe much later, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be on the sales floor now, trying to encourage more purchases.
Starscream cycled a ventilation before he snapped at his roommate, who had been colder than usual as of late. “Do you think it has something to do with what Rodimus overheard?”
“It’s none of my business, whatever it is,” Sunstreaker said. He paused and looked over his shoulder, something flickering over his face before a mask of indifference fell over it again. “And none of yours either. We’re here to work. That’s all that matters.”
Hurt throbbed through Starscream’s spark. He chased it away with irritation. “Thanks for the reminder. I needed that,” he snapped and spun on a heelstrut.
“Star--”
He ignored Sunstreaker. Easy enough, as Sunstreaker had been a frigid roommate for the past week. Starscream instead scanned the sales floor.
Everyone was in place. Even Rodimus had arrived early for once, standing over to the side with his roommates, a tight smile on his face, his armor taut to his frame.
Starscream drifted toward him, scanning the floor again. Streamline still stood, lord of it all. There was a guard at every position, Drift and Spinner stationed together near the double doors leading back toward the receiving rooms.
The first of the days customers trickled in, greeted with laughs and smiles by the escorts nearest the front doors. They were ushered to seats, plied with treats and drink. A couple of them were familiar faces, though Starscream hadn’t serviced them before.
“Everything all right?”
Starscream blinked out of his fugue at the light touch to his arm. Rodimus looked up at him with a frown, his field wafting concern.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Starscream offered him a thin smile and hooked his elbow with Rodimus’. “Come on, rookie. Let’s go greet the customers.”
“Uh, isn’t that usually a job for the actual rookies?” Rodimus asked, but he went along anyway, his field reaching out to Starscream’s with a mixture of affection and comfort.
“Never hurts to provide some extra incentive,” Starscream near-sang, and winked playfully.
His comm pinged, the ident code belonging to Streamline. Starscream went rigid, glancing over his shoulder. Streamline’s visor burned his direction. Fantastic. What had he done to incur the boss’ wrath this time?
Starscream patted Rodimus on the arm. “Entice a rich one,” he purred. “I’ll be right back.”
Rodimus’ frown deepened. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“I’m sure.” Starscream hoped he sounded more reassuring as he felt.
He urged Rodimus toward the door, and turned back to the main room. He slipped through the gathered escorts and servers to make his way to Streamline lurking at the back, per the usual. Streamline was visibly tense, his armor drawn to taut, that he appeared a statute, one that might shatter if touched.
“Yes, boss?”
Streamline pointed to the floor directly next to him. Starscream obediently moved closer, his wings twitching and his instincts clawing for attention.
“We have an important client today, Starscream.” Streamline stared hard at the front door, focusing hard on each new arrival. “And I know you’ve formed an attachment to Rodimus.”
Starscream’s orbital ridges flattened. “What does one have to do with the—oh.”
“Yes. And you are not to interfere. Do you understand me?”
Starscream’s hands drew into loose fists. “Why should there be any need to interfere?” he asked with false cheer and a smile. “Blue Sun protects its staff, does it not? Certainly you wouldn’t allow for any harm to come to one of your escorts.”
Streamline’s optics narrowed. “Do not take me for a fool, Starscream. You may be one of my most valuable escorts, but you are not irreplaceable.”
He shifted, slowly enough that his hydraulics creaked, and he glare. “Mind your own business. Make sure the whelp behaves. And we’ll all end the day much richer than we began it. Understand?”
Starscream grinned, and if he happened to bear his sharpened denta, so be it. “Yes, boss. Clear as Praxian crystal.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, wings canted across his back in fake deference. “Shall I get back to work now?”
Streamline flicked fingers at him. “Go.”
Starscream didn’t have to be told twice.
He returned to the sales floor, further convinced that there was reason to be wary. If Turmoil was going to be here, that could only mean trouble. Turmoil had not set foot through the doors of Blue Sun since abandoning Rodimus here. Or if he had, Starscream was not aware of it.
More customers had trickled in, which wasn’t unusual. This day of the week, they were often packed early, so much so Streamline had considered extending their hours of availability. Turmoil had not yet appeared. Starscream’s anxiousness notched up another level, more for Rodimus’ sake than his own.
There was a new arrival in one of the booths, however. Starscream recognized the black and white paint and symbols on the mech’s sensory panels as belonging to the Enforcers, and a high-ranking one at that.
What on Cybertron was a high-ranking Enforcer doing here? In the middle of the day? Not even making the least attempt to be furtive? He currently sat between Atomizer and Flare, his expression one of disinterest despite being surrounded by such pretty specimens.
Starscream frowned.
It wasn’t the rarity of an Enforcer. No, they were common enough in Blue Sun. They were more likely to indulge in the newer and therefore cheaper patrons. But it wasn’t illegal to purchase the services offered by Blue Sun. Nor was it something an Enforcer would face censure for.
Someone as high of rank as this mech, however? That was the unusual part. Starscream could not recall a single instance of a high-ranking Enforcer sitting casually in the main service hall. They, as a rule, seemed to prefer the private rooms, booking their companion for the evening prior to their arrival so as to spend as little time being recognized as possible.
Cool blue optics caught Starscream looking. They were as cold as liquid nitrogen, and they had all the sharpness of a vibroblade.
Starscream shivered and looked away. He did not like that mech.
He sought more comforting ground and caught a familiar face in the thickening crowd. Nightshade was a bit earlier than usual, but that wasn’t suspicious. It had been some time since Starscream had least seen one of his favorite customers. His spark rippled with delight. Starscream checked Rodimus’ position – still greeting at the door – and made his way to Nightshade’s side.
Nightshade hadn’t selected a booth for once. Instead, he’d picked a stool at the bar, and he lounged comfortably atop it, sipping on one of his favorite concoctions – a weak energon spritzer.
“My favorite wings,” Nightshade purred and gestured to the empty stool beside him. “Do you have time for me today?”
“I always have time for you.” Starscream leaned in, giving Nightshade a chaste peck on the cheek. It was the only physical contact Nightshade welcomed without invitation and without flinching. “By which I mean, I’m not spoken for already, so whenever you want a little privacy, let me know.”
Nightshade chuckled and slid an arm around Starscream’s waist. “You do know how much I enjoy observing first.”
“I do.” Starscream leaned in close, though he struggled to hold on to his usual flirtatious banter. “Perhaps later you might want to observe me with another? I know Rodimus is free as well.”
“Mm. He is a delight.” Nightshade sipped at his drink, his optics sharply assessing. “Is everything alright, Starscream?”
“Now that you’re here, of course it is,” Starscream replied with a laugh. He teased Nightshade with his field, though his attention wandered to the sales floor. “Wouldn’t you rather a booth? They are far more comfortable.”
“I would. I was simply waiting for you to escort me.” Nightshade slid down from the stool, offering Starscream his elbow. “They do seem to be filling up fast.”
Starscream slipped his arm through Nightshade’s. “A lot of new faces tonight, I’ve noticed.” He tried to hold on to his cheer. “If I’d known you were going to be here so early, I’d have reserved you a booth.”
“Mm. I did notice the new high spenders.” Nightshade swept up his drink from the bar with the other hand. “Prowl even took my favorite booth.”
Prowl? Was that the Enforcers name? How did Nightshade know of him?
Starscream tucked himself against Nightshade’s side, his field stroking apologetically over his patron’s. “You know this Prowl?”
“I know of him.” Nightshade’s jaw visibly clenched. “Even in circles such as mine, there are certain designations to remember. His is one of them.”
They slipped into the lounge area, choosing one of the empty two-cushioned lounges. Nightshade sat first, drawing Starscream down next to him.
“He’s an Enforcer,” Nightshade continued as he deftly grabbed a engex cooler from a passing server and handed the delicate goblet to Starscream. “With an interest in, shall we say, unique artifacts.”
Starscream glanced in ‘Prowl’s’ direction, but Prowl was taking no more notice of him. Instead, the Enforcer’s attention was on Atomizer, currently whispering into his audial.
“So he’s dirty,” Starscream said, no louder than a murmur. He hadn’t meant to voice the observation aloud, but he couldn’t hide his disgust either.
There were few things he despised more than a crooked lawmech, and there were plenty of such to found in the city.
“Perhaps.” Nightshade rubbed a thumb over the curve of Starscream’s jaw. “But that’s nothing you should worry about. No doubt he is here for the same reason anyone else visits Blue Sun.”
Starscream made a noncommittal noise. He sipped at his engex cooler – it would no more impair him than the weak spritzer – and settled in closer to Nightshade. He would be here the rest of the evening, he suspected.
So he pinged Sunstreaker and hoped his roommate was in a helpful mood.
‘Sunny, can you do me a favor?’
‘Oh, are you talking to me now?’
‘I’m serious. Can you watch after Rodimus? Turmoil’s supposed to be here later.’
From across the room, he saw Sunstreaker stiffen and his optics narrow. ‘Fine.’
He rose from his lounge, languid, gleaming grace. Starscream’s spark tightened with want at the sight of them. Their little cold war had meant frigid berths for the both of them, and Starscream missed Sunstreaker something fierce.
‘Thank you.’
There was no reply. He didn’t expect one.
At least Sunstreaker had agreed.
Starscream returned his attention to Nightshade, trying to bury his tension down deep so it didn’t interfere with his client’s time. But if he kept one sensor trained on Rodimus, no one could hardly blame him.
Sunstreaker had never set out intending to care about Starscream’s little pet project. But somehow, Rodimus had not only squirmed his way into their lives, he’d wormed his way under Sunstreaker’s armor, and between him and Starscream. Rodimus had become a nuisance, and an issue, and someone Sunstreaker thought he should protect.
Starscream’s request jolted Sunstreaker off his lounge before he thought twice about it. He, like Starscream, had been steadily cultivating a loathing for Turmoil.
To have that piece of garbage come here, to a place of relative safety, it was intolerable.
Sunstreaker couldn’t take a client right now. At least, not one who’d want him for his unique skills. Not with Sideswipe scheduled to arrive in an hour. Skids had already been by to drop off a small box Sideswipe wished to use during their session. But Sunstreaker’s presence on the sales floor would facilitate more transactions.
Starscream had to entertain Nightshade. Sunstreaker would see to Rodimus.
He moved toward the front door, trying to make his pace unhurried, as though he drifted through the growing crowd not because he had a purpose, but because he was a king mingling with his throng. They were busy already, an hour after opening, and all but one of the lounges were taken up with the richer of their patrons.
The empty one, perched between an Enforcer Sunstreaker did not recognize and Nightshade and Starscream, had a Reserved placard placed upon the seat. Sunstreaker had little doubt it was meant for Turmoil. Prime seating, of course. Streamline had to keep his business contacts happy.
Ugh.
Sunstreaker paused by one of the emergency exits, guarded by a single mech as there was no handle to enter from the outside. It only required a guard because there was the occasional patron who tried to skip out on his bill. Or snatch an escort and run.
“All’s well, sir,” Scorch said. He dipped his head out of politeness, the sort only the new guards bothered with. He’d only been here a week. He’d learn it wasn’t necessary.
Streamline was hiring an unusual amount of help lately. But then, they’d had a few mechs disappear, never to arrive for their shifts so perhaps he was only replacing lost employees. Times were hard. Sometimes, mechs lost themselves to the gutter.
Sunstreaker offered a thin smile. “I’m not your superior in any fashion. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ though I appreciate the respect.”
“Oh. But you are Sunstreaker, right? The top, um, dom here?” Scorch’s crimson face darkened in hue. He shifted his weight, hand tightening around the shaft of his energon lance.
“I am Sunstreaker. And I am the highest paid escort here in Blue Sun,” Sunstreaker confirmed. He liked the kid, awkward though he was. “So nothing out of the ordinary then?”
Scorch shook his head. “Not unless you count the stray cybercat I saw rooting around in the bins. Its been loitering for a week now, from what I hear though. Guess it’s hoping for a free meal.”
“Aren’t we all,” Sunstreaker murmured. Cybercats were of no interest to him.
He skimmed the gathered crowd, growing in abundance now. Another of Starscream’s favorite clients – Bluestreak – was here with his sub, the two of them unaccompanied for now. They curled together on one of the smaller lounges against the wall, looking as though they were about to put on an erotic floor show. Streamline would stop them before things got too messy.
Sunstreaker moved on.
Business was brisk. Clients moved into the back with their chosen companions. The cheaper, for lack of a better word, escorts were in high demand today. It would be a good day for sales.
Despite that, Sunstreaker’s internals twisted into a knot. Starscream’s worry had left him with a tension all his own. Or maybe that was the sudden ripple of unease in the ambient fields, like a dark shroud had dropped on the gleam and glitter of Blue Sun.
Sunstreaker turned toward the door and located the source of the tension.
Turmoil darkened the doorway, massive and broad, his armor dark as though it had been blackened by the Pit. He had facemask and visor both, the latter a crimson hue.
And Rodimus was in the greeting line. Rodimus turned into a statue. His spoiler went still. Color bleached from his face. His smile froze in place, better a grimace.
Had no one thought to warn him?
Turmoil’s head swiveled toward Rodimus as though there was magnetic attraction. His visor flashed, and if he hadn’t had a facemask, Sunstreaker knew he’d be smirking, like a predator who’d cornered his prey.
Sunstreaker moved before he had to tell his feet to do so. He managed to get to Rodimus’ side in enough time to catch the tail end of Turmoil’s undoubtedly inappropriate comment.
“--favorite,” Turmoil rasped in a tone that was just shy of lewd. “I’d say it’s a shame what happened, but from what I hear, you’re serving my mechs well.”
Rodimus’ vents stuttered. He fell back a pace, and collided with Sunstreaker’s chest, his entire frame jolting with surprise.
Sunstreaker stared hard at Turmoil as he put a gentle hand on Rodimus’ shoulder. He leaned forward, speaking into Rodimus’ audial, though he kept Turmoil’s gaze.
“Nightshade’s summoned you, Hot Rod. Attend to him.”
“What a shame,” Turmoil said, his voice like gravel in gears. “I was hoping I could experience your services for myself.” He leaned in, and Sunstreaker did not miss the way Rodimus leaned back, into Sunstreaker’s embrace, as though Sunstreaker could and would protect him.
Sunstreaker smiled, wishing he could bare sharpened denta like Starscream. “Unfortunately, we are first-come, first-serve here.” He patted Rodimus on the shoulder again. “Go on, Hot Rod. You know Nightshade doesn’t like to wait.”
Rodimus shuddered beneath Sunstreaker’s fingertips. “Yes, sir,” he said, in the quietest, most subservient tone Sunstreaker had ever heard from him.
He slid across Sunstreaker’s frame as though moving even a step closer to Turmoil would be his undoing, and then he fled to the circle of lounges, where Nightshade and Starscream had taken up perch. He would still be close to Turmoil unfortunately, but Nightshade had premier status in Blue Sun. If anyone’s influence could protect Rodimus, it was Nightshade’s.
Turmoil watched Rodimus go with hunger burning in his visor. Anger flashed hot and ferocious through Sunstreaker’s frame.
In that moment, he understood why Starscream protected Rodimus so adamantly.
“Such a shame,” Turmoil repeated before his gaze slid to Sunstreaker. “Then will you escort me to my seat?” He looked Sunstreaker up and down. “You don’t look as breakable, but I think we could have some fun nonetheless.”
“I’m spoken for as well,” Sunstreaker said. “But I’d be happy to arrange for someone else to accompany you.” The script tumbled from his lips on rote. “If you’ll follow me, I believe we have a lounge reserved for you.”
He didn’t wait for Turmoil to agree. He turned and expected Turmoil to follow, though his spark broiled and anger simmered. He led Turmoil to the reserved lounge, and since Streamline didn’t ping him to contradict, Sunstreaker knew he’d been correct.
Turmoil paused before sitting, however. He glanced over at Nightshade, dismissing him immediately, but his attention lingered on the Enforcer to his other side.
“Prowl,” he greeted in a tone that reeked of glee. “I see you arrived before me. Already partaking of the delights, too.”
Prowl, apparently, tipped his head, one hand stroking down Atomizer’s thigh. “Unlike some mechs, I understand the value of time. I am never late.” His statement was pointed.
Turmoil barked a laugh and flopped down into the lounge. “They said your glossa could be cutting.” He spread his arms across the back of the seat. “It’s a bit dull to me, but who I am to judge?”
“I was being polite.” Ice-blue optics narrowed. “I’ll make sure to dispense with the formalities from this point forward.” Prowl set his jaw. “Did you bring me the item I asked for?”
Turmoil waved him off. “Please. Let me get my entertainment before we talk official business. That’s what we’re here for.”
Prowl sniffed and flicked his sensory panels. “If you insist.” He turned into Atomizer’s neck, his hand sliding further up Atomizer’s thigh, toward his groin.
Atomizer giggled, a sound Sunstreaker found wholly unappealing, but Prowl seemed to enjoy it.
Turmoil spread his thighs, taking an obnoxious amount of space in the lounge. His two buffoon guards took up point behind me.
“Now you,” he said, directing his growl at Sunstreaker. “You’ve already denied me the tasty treat I wanted to ruin, so why don’t you bring me something else?”
Sunstreaker twitched. He planted a fake smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.” The script demanded a ‘sir’.
He refused.
One of Turmoil’s guards – the tall, gangly one – leaned down and murmured into his boss’ audial. Turmoil’s visor turned stormy, his engine revving harshly.
“I don’t need the reminder,” he growled. “This is business, too.” Turmoil flicked his hand at Sunstreaker. “Shoo. Get me your master instead. I’m sure he can give me what I want.”
It rankled, the casual disrespect. But Sunstreaker pressed his lips together, tipped his head in a bow, and dismissed himself. The further he moved from Turmoil, the better.
He pinged Streamline, not that it was necessary. Streamline was already making his way through the crowd, heading straight for Turmoil, his optics narrowed and his face pinched. Apparently he didn’t like being summoned anymore than Sunstreaker appreciated being dismissed.
Sunstreaker returned to his perch. Rodimus was safely with Starscream and Nightshade. He curled in Starscream’s lap and fed Starscream treats which Nightshade must have purchased for them to enjoy.
Voyeurs like Nightshade were beyond Sunstreaker’s capacity to fathom. He couldn’t imagine getting pleasure from watching and never participating. Or spending the amount of creds Nightshade did just to enjoy a view.
It was baffling.
Sunstreaker reclined in his perch, but couldn’t relax. He felt the tension in the air, like an itch under his plating. Turmoil laughed loudly where he sat, and grabbed one of the passing escorts, tossing the femme into his lap. Luckily, Aeroline was not the sort to protest. She only squeaked cutely, tossed her feet, and giggled. Either she didn’t know who Turmoil was, or it made no difference to her.
Aeroline could take care of herself.
Streamline made gestures, but Turmoil only seemed to be paying half attention to him. The rest was split between the treat sprawled in his lap – Aeroline – and the occasionally exchanged conversation with Prowl.
Whatever their business was, Turmoil seemed to be amused by delaying it. His loud barks of laughter occasionally burst through the low hum of conversation. Prowl’s frown grew deeper, no matter how hard Atomizer pressed to his side.
Tension simmered, like a frayed serpentine belt moments from snapping.
Sunstreaker would have to be ready to act. Starscream was too close to Turmoil, and far too protective of Rodimus.
Who knew what he would do.
