Aftermath - Chapter 5: Ravage
So let's continue with the story... ^-^
Universe: Till all are one
Beta: Starfire 201
Continuation: AU, G1
Genre: Adventure, drama
Characters: Ravage, Nightbeat, Prowl and Jazz are mentioned
Summary: Nightbeat stared in utter surprise at his guest. "Howlback," he repeated flatly. "I don't know what is harder to believe - that you two are friends or that she speaks positively of anyone, least of all me."
His thoughts backed the words and Ravage found himself amused.
Chapter 5: Ravage
There were many photos on the wall. Artistically arranged to form a harmonious picture, each held a unique tale.
He knew some of these stories. The three mechs grinning in front of a ship - a tragedy with only one survivor. A bit down and to the left, the blue and yellow survivor was looking at something organic - the discovery of another sentient and intelligent organic race. Even further to the left was again the same mech, this time arm in arm with another mech, obviously in love - the non-existent data on the other mech was more than enough to date this photo into the Golden Age and to know that the unnamed lover didn't survive the following war.
He stretched out on the long couch, enjoying its softness. Lying on the back, he put his hands above his head, tried to touch the small pillow with his toes and let his dark frame shimmer in the low lighting. If someone had watched him, they would've called him sensual - but he was alone and so it was only pure enjoyment of himself and the couch.
Finding a perfect position, he turned his red optics back to the wall.
The wall was a treasure chest for him, full of data and precious moments that let him sneak into another one's life. The apartment around him was bland in comparison, even though its tasteful furniture also whispered of a strong and decisive character.
Yet, nothing compared to this wall. Between the photos of the mech hang ones without any living beings at all. They were just of places with straight lines and light and shadow. They, too, had their tales, but they also highlighted what their owner thought of as beautiful.
His optics kept lingering on those pictures, committing them to his own collection of photos, while his data banks provided names and dates.
Suddenly, a noise disturbed the peace. He growled as his silence became fragile - and shattered as fast footsteps of a heavy mech neared through the hallway of the apartment. He was hit by fleeting thoughts and waves of anger.
A yellow and dark-blue mech appeared in the doorway of the living room, a blaster in his hand, blue visor blazing in anger. In reality, he was a lot more impressive than in his photos, where he was always smiling, thought Ravage neutrally. The mech stopped dead the moment he discovered him lounging on the couch.
"Ravage!" the mech snarled and subspaced the gun. "When I requested a meeting with you, I expected you to come to the HQ or maybe that you would suggest a cafe. Not that you would break into my own apartment and sent me a message with the glyphs 'I'm waiting'!"
Ravage smiled coolly. Not bothering to stand up, or to even sit up, he shrugged.
Did you really think I would walk through the public to meet you, Nightbeat?
Nightbeat flinched. As they all did, when they heard Ravage's thoughts in their own processors for the first time. Then usually came the spike of fear, covered by quick, hot anger and a strong dislike towards Ravage. Having watched the cycle a hundred of times, it was no wonder he avoided the public - and so far meeting any Enforcer personally.
"I thought you would at least warn me before entering - or wait for me!" Nightbeat snapped annoyed.
Ravage blinked, surprised. No fear, no anger, no comment at all about the telepathic answer. Remarkable. Had Nightbeat known before about Ravage's habit not to speak out loud or was he just that adaptable?
He couldn't resist and gently touched the mind of the Enforcer. So many thoughts, so much curiosity and tiredness, but not a single negative code line about Ravage's abilities. The telepath's smile from before became a bit warmer.
Meanwhile, Nightbeat had crossed the room towards the several energon dispensers in the corner and selected a few.
"Have you already helped yourself, too?" he asked with what could've been further annoyance, but the feel of his mind said he had already calmed.
No.
Breaking and entering was one thing in Ravage's mind. A younglinghood of war had taught him that to steal energon, something that could mean the other bot would starve, was another thing entirely.
Nightbeat nodded. "Well then, do you want some? I have high-grade, low-grade, sweet, acidic and bitter."
Sweet... please.
"As you wish." Nightbeat skillfully mixed their energon, then he sat down on the couch next to Ravage's pedes, wordlessly handing his guest the cube.
He nodded in thanks, taking a cautious sip, carefully checking the energon with special sensors. No poison. Not that he expected it here, but old habits died hard, and for some they died harder.
"I'm surprised that you came at all," Nightbeat finally said, watching Ravage from the corner of his visor. "You're not exactly famous for heeding requests such as this."
That was true enough. Ravage was as anti-social as Soundwave, which was saying it all. It was less of a choice though, than a result of being a telepath.
I always try to help the Enforcers, Ravage defended himself.
The Enforcer and special detective laughed softly. "Yes. But we're not fool enough to believe you tell us everything. Or sometimes anything at all."
Also true. Ravage wondered how much Nightbeat had researched him.
I tell you as much as you need to know, he explained. And as a telepath I know many things that are better left forgotten.
Things he often wished to forget himself.
Nightbeat gave him a measuring look and for an exciting moment his thoughts splintered into a thousand possibilities - before he nodded.
"You're probably right." He took a deep gulp of his cube. "So, why did you come at all? This is a big enough mess without adding you to it."
It wasn't meant as an insult. Instead, Nightbeat's feelings were of amusement, weariness and a faint sarcastic humour. It strangely appealed to the former Decepticon and Ravage found himself relaxing more.
Your request came with very good references, he admitted.
Nightbeat's helmet snapped towards him. Nervousness, no, apprehension flared. "References? This was an unofficial request. No one should've known..."
Ravage held up a hand, and with one graceful move, sat up. He still had to look up a bit to meet the others visor as he assured him: No one does know of this meeting.
The wave of feelings calmed. "Then how..."
There weren't many mechs on Cybertron whose opinion could influence him. Soundwave was one, his siblings sometimes the others. And then there was...
Howlback always speaks highly of you, Ravage said.
Nightbeat stared in utter surprise at his guest. "Howlback," he repeated flatly. "I don't know what is harder to believe - that you two are friends or that she speaks positively of anyone, least of all me."
His thoughts backed the words and Ravage found himself amused.
Howlback and I have been friends for a long time. Once, we shared a rather uncommon frame.
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Nightbeat. "You both were four-legged cassetticons, right?"
Yes.
It was just a frameclass to Nightbeat, nothing more. The sharp relief of his was a bit startling. Many had compared Ravage to drones or, even more degrading, organics over the vorns. Many were still doing it to other cassettes, despite Soundwave's campaigns of social equality.
Thanks to his talents, Ravage had always been far too aware of those thoughts and it had not helped that he was holding the dubious honour of being the cassette that had needed the longest time to reach a normal mechframe ever.
Even during the Golden Age he had been one of the slowest maturing cassettes, with trouble to control his inherited talent of telepathy. Within the war he had stopped maturing at all as his emotional centre was busy not to be crushed beneath dark thoughts and violent emotions. Worse, he had just been mature enough to see the problems it caused Soundwave to keep them all fuelled and well. But too dependent to upgrade and be his own mech, he had resigned to his fate of a telepathic mech-animal, that would never be more.
And then, he had met Howlback. Proud Howlback, who refused to give up even as her creator and tape deck died. Strong Howlback, who carved her way through the ranks of the Decepticons alone. Stubborn Howlback, who refused his help and to trust him for vorns.
She showed him that it was Ravage's decision alone if he was a burden or not.
Nightbeat grinned. "So, are you two more than friends?"
Never, was Ravage sharp answer, which made Nightbeat wince.
"Wow, emotional theme for you." Nightbeat raised his hands. "No need to say more. I can go without a headache this orn - work is bad enough at the moment!"
Ravage nodded, forcing himself to be calm again.
About your work... I know you're the lead detective in the case of Prowl and Jazz. Am I right to assume that you called me because of them?
Anything playful left the Enforcer immediately. "Yes," he answered tiredly. "You were on different sides of the war, but I suspect that you did investigate many of the incidences because they involved Decepticon victims. Also, surely you spied on them and tried to find out anything important..." He sighed. "In short, I want to know what you did notice or heard about regarding them."
Ravage tilted his head. You already have all this information. Soundwave sent you the files decaorns ago.
"He did," confirmed Nightbeat. "And as far as our databanks tell us, his statements are all true." He stood up and brought his empty cube back to the energon dispenser. "There are just a few small details that made me look closer."
Ravage followed his every movement, admiring the sudden sureness of them.
Those details would be?
He threw the cube into the trash and turned, crossing his arms. "First, Soundwave's statement should have included a few things that he didn't put into the records. Your creator is famous for his secretiveness, I can't imagine him updating thousand of files with nothing but the truth."
The former cassetticon found himself nodding. Everyone who had ever met Soundwave would know that the mech chose his words and information carefully. Just as Ravage did.
"Second," continued Nightbeat. "There are the witnesses. Yes, there are dozens, but none of them really saw them pull the trigger. But even more telling is the small fact that some of the mechs who should be the prime witnesses are missing. Most important, their adoptive sparkling Bluestreak hasn't been found so far. And believe me, we've searched for him."
Nightbeat's thoughts were elegant, complex and strangely captivating. Again, Ravage found himself nodding.
Maybe Bluestreak deactivated, he said, knowing the Praxian hadn't. During Starscream's reign they had been partners, maybe even friends, taking orders from only three mechs. He was sure that he would've been invited to the melting of him.
"In peace time? Without Prowl or Jazz saying anything?" Nightbeat sounded sceptical. "No, I bet Bluestreak has gone underground. There were rumours about problems like high-grade, the wrong crowd of mechs, crimes, but nothing specific because - and that's interesting - the mechs he used to meet mostly have vanished, too."
Ravage smiled, just watching Nightbeat as he talked himself into a rage. It was less about the mechs, than about the information, the puzzle itself.
How peculiar, he commented, just to keep the Enforcer talking.
"I thought so too. So I did my job. I started to dig around and I found out that while the proof, the files, the witnesses all look ironclad, it isn't. Some cases are nearly completely circumstantial!"
Not really, though, argued Ravage, extending his hand so that his claws rested on the couch. Despite finally upgrading into a mech-frame after Howlback encouraged him, he hadn't found the desire to leave everything behind. Aequitas would never convict them if it was circumstantial, yet it did in 14 cases so far.
Nightbeat grinned without joy. "Yes, because Aequitas and the judges think that the files we found on Teletraan, the various archives and even in Vector Sigma are all true."
I guess they aren't, said Ravage with a smile. It was strange. Rarely had he smiled as often as during this conversation. Maybe it was the exciting topic.
The Enforcer shrugged. "I can't prove anything, yet. But after the war Prowl and Jazz had a very, very high security clearance despite the fact that Starscream ruled. So high, that they could look into and change everything." His gaze fixed his guest. "Am I right?"
It was a piece of information that an interested mech could look up in nearly any history archive, buried between tons of other unimportant data. Ravage nodded, clearly remembering the time when everything had changed and yet so few.
Nightbeat didn't move, but his emotions showed a raw satisfaction for a moment, before he was speaking again: "The thing now is, I wasn't able to find even the slightest hint that they lost this access. They stepped down from titles, from positions, but not once were they officially taken from the lists of authorized mechs to change the files. Funnily enough, their designations are not on a single list anymore, but then in some cases they never were as they maintained those lists." He smiled. "It's a small thing. Really. But I think it might be the key."
Ravage raised optics ridge, faking scepticism. In reality, he was impressed. This mech had come farther than any other of the thousands of mechs trying to figure out Prowl and Jazz's motives.
What key? asked Ravage, but he knew.
"Isn't it obvious? That they had access to and changed the files, until they got the blame for everything. They had vorns to perfect this. Vorns to look up the witnesses, vorns to talk or bribe everyone involved. Maybe they even performed a minor hack on the more stubborn ones." He paused and then shook his head, as the next words sounded bitter: "The rest of us all are now just the actors on their stage."
For a moment, the other one wasn't sure what to say. After the silence between them became awkward he settled on a weak:
You're a good Enforcer, Nightbeat.
The detective didn't take it the wrong way. "Thank you." Then, he walked over, back to Ravage and stopped in front of the smaller mech. "So, are my theories wrong?"
This was dangerous territory. He should say "yes", stand up and walk out through the door. Pit, he should've never came here. But he was and now he felt the desire to tell Nightbeat everything he knew, which wasn't much anyway, just to see the glimmer of excitement in his visor again. Ravage tried to crush the desire ruthlessly.
You are aware that while my creator has left the secret service, I'm still part of it? he asked instead, stalling for time.
"Yes, of course." Nightbeat's visor lightened up and his emotions were amused, but highly alert. "But isn't that even further reason to help me? I admit I know barely more than that, besides that you're one of the most gifted hackers..." He paused. "And now that you're a telepath. Maybe that is connected."
Ravage laughed, he couldn't help himself.
If it were connected, Rumble and Frenzy would hack all and everything they come across. His light thoughts danced into the processor of Nightbeat. At the curious look of the Enforcer, he explained: They share a permanent emotional link with each other. It makes them quite gifted on this scale.
"As gifted as you?" asked the Enforcer curiously.
No. Ravage looked away, back to the pictures. No one is as good as I. Even Soundwave is not. He can only receive thoughts and emotions, while I...
"You can send them, too."
Yes.
Nightbeat was quiet for a klick, and Ravage felt the old trepidation he had long ago tucked away inside himself. Mechs feared telepaths. Feared that they knew too much, knew secrets, used them. It was painfully justified, too. As if to prove it, Ravage couldn't resist any more and touched the mind of the Enforcer again, looking for his thoughts.
He found them easily. They were just as clear and beautiful as all the others before. But even more stunning was the lack of fear. Instead there was only burning curiosity and the quicksilver speed of a intelligent processor.
"Soundwave's speech pattern is strange, and you do not seem to speak at all," said Nightbeat softly. "Is that the price?"
Yes.
It was the easy answer, quick and dirty. Maybe true. But it also could be that Ravage during his slow and stopped ageing, just learned to talk using his gift, while his codes for speech withered, until it was too late. For now, the easy answer was enough.
"Nothing is for free, right?" Nightbeat's curiosity died down a bit as his determination made its comeback. "What about my theories?"
Ravage hesitated once again, not understanding where this strange desire to share his knowledge with this mech came from. Had he been too isolated in the last decaorns? He measured Nightbeat, staring at the mech until he twitched nervously.
I can't tell you much, Ravage answered with a soft purr. My creator, Soundwave doesn't share everything with me.
Nightbeat frowned. "But you know something, right?"
Yes. Ravage unfolded himself and rose from the couch, taking a step nearer to Nightbeat who still sat. Their height difference was so great that Ravage was still barely looking down.
I can tell you this: My creator and Prowl and Jazz rarely saw optic to optic about anything, but when they did... things happened.
"During the war. Right?"
Ravage tilted his head with a smile.
During and after it.
Nightbeat's visor and processor flashed with interest. "And about what things did they see optic to optic?"
Ravage shrugged.
Sparklings. Cybertron. They all wanted to see the next generation to grew up happy and in peace.
A grimace. "That's not a very big similarity. Every Cybertronian shares this!"
The Enforcer truly believed this. Ravage had the sudden astonishing realisation of having found innocence in a former Autobot, who was also an Enforcer. Who investigated the worst crimes and atrocities. Ravage wanted to weep, craving that innocence for himself.
Nightbeat didn't notice, to caught up in analysing every of Ravage's words. "I mean, okay, so that means they did talk to each other about some things, right? Didn't hate each other... that does help actually. What did you mean by things?"
Things. There is a reason those three were the most feared mechs on Cybertron.
And he would say no more. Nightbeat seemed to realise this as he changed the theme. "What else can you tell me?"
He could tell this mech so many things. Of secrets, dark and better left forgotten. But they wouldn't help here, and he refused to destroy any of the past successful plans of his creator or Prowl and Jazz with saying anything too specific. But there was one memory, that had puzzled himself for vorns:
Several vorns after Starscream's sacrifice and death, Jazz waited for me on one of my rounds around our house. I sought the solace, the quiet. In those orns I was... not good. Mechs thought we had lost protection and targeted us. Especially me, as they thought me a cyberanimal, a telepath, a spy, a traitor...
Ravage took a deep breath, stopping the word flood. There had been so many reasons why they had targeted and hated him. He had seen those reasons in their processors, seen himself in their thoughts, how ugly, terrifying, monstrous he was. It had broken him more than the slurs and thrown metalrocks had ever done.
Nightbeat looked at him in understanding, a hand raised as if to comfort, but so uncertain if the comfort was wanted. The former cassetticon straightened. Nightbeat's hand fell away.
Jazz stood there in the alley. Alone. First I thought him another attacker, but instead... he offered me a chance.
He was sure that the Enforcer had heard some of the things which he hadn't mentioned. The fast and brutal fight, the paranoia, the fear when he was on his back with an energy dagger on his neck and a clear view of who he had just attacked.
Nightbeat though just raised an optic ridge, focused on the immediate information and not on the potential humiliation of Ravage. "A chance?" he asked.
Yes. He said nothing more and I declined. Jazz smiled and walked away.
Nightbeat looked as puzzled as if someone had just told him that he had won the Clown of the Year Award. "That was all?"
Yes.
"Strange."
Very, agreed Ravage, remembering how he himself had tried to find meaning in the few sentences exchanged. But my creator... when I came home, he was already waiting at the door. And when I told him about Jazz, he said nothing. Instead he hugged me and...
"And?"
This was intimate. More than anything else so far. Actually, Ravage suddenly realised he would prefer talking about interfacing in detail than to say the next words:
...and all I could feel from him was relief and love.
"Nothing else? No thoughts to explain it?" Nightbeat sounded hopeful, and he was it, too.
Ravage gave him a look that said 'stupid' more than clearly.
He's Soundwave.
Nightbeat sighed. "I suppose I can't expect anything else from Soundwave." And his creation, his thoughts said, but there was no malice. "Any ideas who might know more?"
Did this mech really expect Ravage to point him into some direction? Yes. Yes, he did. He trusted Ravage of all mechs. The smaller mech stared at him and then shrugged:
You could always ask the company 'Red Security'.
A deep sigh and a shake of the head. "I already did. But between Red Alert and Breakdown the paranoia level at that company is so high that they would only share information after a deep spark merge."
Which you weren't willing to provide, I guess?
"'Course not. Those two might be contagious."
They shared a grin.
It was a pity, though. Red Alert had always been the Autobot with the best idea about Prowl and Jazz's schemes. But then, if the two most paranoid mechs on the planet decided to found a security firm together, absurd paranoia was probably expected. Suddenly, Ravage remembered how those two had met - at a security conference after the war. They both had been in charge of security for the other side, which had been kind of a surprise in Breakdown's case. There had been rumours about orders... rumours that Soundwave hadn't
investigated. At that time, Ravage had thought that his creator had just been too busy. Yet maybe...
No. Just no. Now he was becoming paranoid as well.
He stepped a bit back from Nightbeat. For a sparkbeat they both awkwardly waited for something, then Ravage forced himself to say:
I think I told you all I knew. Until... then.
Until probably never.
Nightbeat hastily rose from the couch. "Until then," he smiled. "You really were a great help." He stopped and his thoughts became a chaos of indecision and emotions, then he blurted out: "Maybe I can keep your number to call you?"
Ravage blinked. Call me?
Nightbeat's gaze turned to the floor and then to the wall. "Yes... for questions, maybe? We could meet in a café this time. Or I could invite you to an energon in my apartment again...?"
Again, thought Ravage amused, and then suddenly realised the words. And their true meaning. And the honest, tender motivations behind them. Before he could even think about it more, he had smiled and sent his private comm number.
Of course. Energon sounds good.
Two klicks later, he was on the floor and transformed into his old four-legged mode. He still hadn't managed to convince himself to upgrade all the way - his old altmode was just too comforting and grounding in moments just as these: When his spark spun too fast and his thoughts turned to possibilities and dreams.
Universe: Till all are one
Beta: Starfire 201
Continuation: AU, G1
Genre: Adventure, drama
Characters: Ravage, Nightbeat, Prowl and Jazz are mentioned
Summary: Nightbeat stared in utter surprise at his guest. "Howlback," he repeated flatly. "I don't know what is harder to believe - that you two are friends or that she speaks positively of anyone, least of all me."
His thoughts backed the words and Ravage found himself amused.
Chapter 5: Ravage
There were many photos on the wall. Artistically arranged to form a harmonious picture, each held a unique tale.
He knew some of these stories. The three mechs grinning in front of a ship - a tragedy with only one survivor. A bit down and to the left, the blue and yellow survivor was looking at something organic - the discovery of another sentient and intelligent organic race. Even further to the left was again the same mech, this time arm in arm with another mech, obviously in love - the non-existent data on the other mech was more than enough to date this photo into the Golden Age and to know that the unnamed lover didn't survive the following war.
He stretched out on the long couch, enjoying its softness. Lying on the back, he put his hands above his head, tried to touch the small pillow with his toes and let his dark frame shimmer in the low lighting. If someone had watched him, they would've called him sensual - but he was alone and so it was only pure enjoyment of himself and the couch.
Finding a perfect position, he turned his red optics back to the wall.
The wall was a treasure chest for him, full of data and precious moments that let him sneak into another one's life. The apartment around him was bland in comparison, even though its tasteful furniture also whispered of a strong and decisive character.
Yet, nothing compared to this wall. Between the photos of the mech hang ones without any living beings at all. They were just of places with straight lines and light and shadow. They, too, had their tales, but they also highlighted what their owner thought of as beautiful.
His optics kept lingering on those pictures, committing them to his own collection of photos, while his data banks provided names and dates.
Suddenly, a noise disturbed the peace. He growled as his silence became fragile - and shattered as fast footsteps of a heavy mech neared through the hallway of the apartment. He was hit by fleeting thoughts and waves of anger.
A yellow and dark-blue mech appeared in the doorway of the living room, a blaster in his hand, blue visor blazing in anger. In reality, he was a lot more impressive than in his photos, where he was always smiling, thought Ravage neutrally. The mech stopped dead the moment he discovered him lounging on the couch.
"Ravage!" the mech snarled and subspaced the gun. "When I requested a meeting with you, I expected you to come to the HQ or maybe that you would suggest a cafe. Not that you would break into my own apartment and sent me a message with the glyphs 'I'm waiting'!"
Ravage smiled coolly. Not bothering to stand up, or to even sit up, he shrugged.
Did you really think I would walk through the public to meet you, Nightbeat?
Nightbeat flinched. As they all did, when they heard Ravage's thoughts in their own processors for the first time. Then usually came the spike of fear, covered by quick, hot anger and a strong dislike towards Ravage. Having watched the cycle a hundred of times, it was no wonder he avoided the public - and so far meeting any Enforcer personally.
"I thought you would at least warn me before entering - or wait for me!" Nightbeat snapped annoyed.
Ravage blinked, surprised. No fear, no anger, no comment at all about the telepathic answer. Remarkable. Had Nightbeat known before about Ravage's habit not to speak out loud or was he just that adaptable?
He couldn't resist and gently touched the mind of the Enforcer. So many thoughts, so much curiosity and tiredness, but not a single negative code line about Ravage's abilities. The telepath's smile from before became a bit warmer.
Meanwhile, Nightbeat had crossed the room towards the several energon dispensers in the corner and selected a few.
"Have you already helped yourself, too?" he asked with what could've been further annoyance, but the feel of his mind said he had already calmed.
No.
Breaking and entering was one thing in Ravage's mind. A younglinghood of war had taught him that to steal energon, something that could mean the other bot would starve, was another thing entirely.
Nightbeat nodded. "Well then, do you want some? I have high-grade, low-grade, sweet, acidic and bitter."
Sweet... please.
"As you wish." Nightbeat skillfully mixed their energon, then he sat down on the couch next to Ravage's pedes, wordlessly handing his guest the cube.
He nodded in thanks, taking a cautious sip, carefully checking the energon with special sensors. No poison. Not that he expected it here, but old habits died hard, and for some they died harder.
"I'm surprised that you came at all," Nightbeat finally said, watching Ravage from the corner of his visor. "You're not exactly famous for heeding requests such as this."
That was true enough. Ravage was as anti-social as Soundwave, which was saying it all. It was less of a choice though, than a result of being a telepath.
I always try to help the Enforcers, Ravage defended himself.
The Enforcer and special detective laughed softly. "Yes. But we're not fool enough to believe you tell us everything. Or sometimes anything at all."
Also true. Ravage wondered how much Nightbeat had researched him.
I tell you as much as you need to know, he explained. And as a telepath I know many things that are better left forgotten.
Things he often wished to forget himself.
Nightbeat gave him a measuring look and for an exciting moment his thoughts splintered into a thousand possibilities - before he nodded.
"You're probably right." He took a deep gulp of his cube. "So, why did you come at all? This is a big enough mess without adding you to it."
It wasn't meant as an insult. Instead, Nightbeat's feelings were of amusement, weariness and a faint sarcastic humour. It strangely appealed to the former Decepticon and Ravage found himself relaxing more.
Your request came with very good references, he admitted.
Nightbeat's helmet snapped towards him. Nervousness, no, apprehension flared. "References? This was an unofficial request. No one should've known..."
Ravage held up a hand, and with one graceful move, sat up. He still had to look up a bit to meet the others visor as he assured him: No one does know of this meeting.
The wave of feelings calmed. "Then how..."
There weren't many mechs on Cybertron whose opinion could influence him. Soundwave was one, his siblings sometimes the others. And then there was...
Howlback always speaks highly of you, Ravage said.
Nightbeat stared in utter surprise at his guest. "Howlback," he repeated flatly. "I don't know what is harder to believe - that you two are friends or that she speaks positively of anyone, least of all me."
His thoughts backed the words and Ravage found himself amused.
Howlback and I have been friends for a long time. Once, we shared a rather uncommon frame.
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Nightbeat. "You both were four-legged cassetticons, right?"
Yes.
It was just a frameclass to Nightbeat, nothing more. The sharp relief of his was a bit startling. Many had compared Ravage to drones or, even more degrading, organics over the vorns. Many were still doing it to other cassettes, despite Soundwave's campaigns of social equality.
Thanks to his talents, Ravage had always been far too aware of those thoughts and it had not helped that he was holding the dubious honour of being the cassette that had needed the longest time to reach a normal mechframe ever.
Even during the Golden Age he had been one of the slowest maturing cassettes, with trouble to control his inherited talent of telepathy. Within the war he had stopped maturing at all as his emotional centre was busy not to be crushed beneath dark thoughts and violent emotions. Worse, he had just been mature enough to see the problems it caused Soundwave to keep them all fuelled and well. But too dependent to upgrade and be his own mech, he had resigned to his fate of a telepathic mech-animal, that would never be more.
And then, he had met Howlback. Proud Howlback, who refused to give up even as her creator and tape deck died. Strong Howlback, who carved her way through the ranks of the Decepticons alone. Stubborn Howlback, who refused his help and to trust him for vorns.
She showed him that it was Ravage's decision alone if he was a burden or not.
Nightbeat grinned. "So, are you two more than friends?"
Never, was Ravage sharp answer, which made Nightbeat wince.
"Wow, emotional theme for you." Nightbeat raised his hands. "No need to say more. I can go without a headache this orn - work is bad enough at the moment!"
Ravage nodded, forcing himself to be calm again.
About your work... I know you're the lead detective in the case of Prowl and Jazz. Am I right to assume that you called me because of them?
Anything playful left the Enforcer immediately. "Yes," he answered tiredly. "You were on different sides of the war, but I suspect that you did investigate many of the incidences because they involved Decepticon victims. Also, surely you spied on them and tried to find out anything important..." He sighed. "In short, I want to know what you did notice or heard about regarding them."
Ravage tilted his head. You already have all this information. Soundwave sent you the files decaorns ago.
"He did," confirmed Nightbeat. "And as far as our databanks tell us, his statements are all true." He stood up and brought his empty cube back to the energon dispenser. "There are just a few small details that made me look closer."
Ravage followed his every movement, admiring the sudden sureness of them.
Those details would be?
He threw the cube into the trash and turned, crossing his arms. "First, Soundwave's statement should have included a few things that he didn't put into the records. Your creator is famous for his secretiveness, I can't imagine him updating thousand of files with nothing but the truth."
The former cassetticon found himself nodding. Everyone who had ever met Soundwave would know that the mech chose his words and information carefully. Just as Ravage did.
"Second," continued Nightbeat. "There are the witnesses. Yes, there are dozens, but none of them really saw them pull the trigger. But even more telling is the small fact that some of the mechs who should be the prime witnesses are missing. Most important, their adoptive sparkling Bluestreak hasn't been found so far. And believe me, we've searched for him."
Nightbeat's thoughts were elegant, complex and strangely captivating. Again, Ravage found himself nodding.
Maybe Bluestreak deactivated, he said, knowing the Praxian hadn't. During Starscream's reign they had been partners, maybe even friends, taking orders from only three mechs. He was sure that he would've been invited to the melting of him.
"In peace time? Without Prowl or Jazz saying anything?" Nightbeat sounded sceptical. "No, I bet Bluestreak has gone underground. There were rumours about problems like high-grade, the wrong crowd of mechs, crimes, but nothing specific because - and that's interesting - the mechs he used to meet mostly have vanished, too."
Ravage smiled, just watching Nightbeat as he talked himself into a rage. It was less about the mechs, than about the information, the puzzle itself.
How peculiar, he commented, just to keep the Enforcer talking.
"I thought so too. So I did my job. I started to dig around and I found out that while the proof, the files, the witnesses all look ironclad, it isn't. Some cases are nearly completely circumstantial!"
Not really, though, argued Ravage, extending his hand so that his claws rested on the couch. Despite finally upgrading into a mech-frame after Howlback encouraged him, he hadn't found the desire to leave everything behind. Aequitas would never convict them if it was circumstantial, yet it did in 14 cases so far.
Nightbeat grinned without joy. "Yes, because Aequitas and the judges think that the files we found on Teletraan, the various archives and even in Vector Sigma are all true."
I guess they aren't, said Ravage with a smile. It was strange. Rarely had he smiled as often as during this conversation. Maybe it was the exciting topic.
The Enforcer shrugged. "I can't prove anything, yet. But after the war Prowl and Jazz had a very, very high security clearance despite the fact that Starscream ruled. So high, that they could look into and change everything." His gaze fixed his guest. "Am I right?"
It was a piece of information that an interested mech could look up in nearly any history archive, buried between tons of other unimportant data. Ravage nodded, clearly remembering the time when everything had changed and yet so few.
Nightbeat didn't move, but his emotions showed a raw satisfaction for a moment, before he was speaking again: "The thing now is, I wasn't able to find even the slightest hint that they lost this access. They stepped down from titles, from positions, but not once were they officially taken from the lists of authorized mechs to change the files. Funnily enough, their designations are not on a single list anymore, but then in some cases they never were as they maintained those lists." He smiled. "It's a small thing. Really. But I think it might be the key."
Ravage raised optics ridge, faking scepticism. In reality, he was impressed. This mech had come farther than any other of the thousands of mechs trying to figure out Prowl and Jazz's motives.
What key? asked Ravage, but he knew.
"Isn't it obvious? That they had access to and changed the files, until they got the blame for everything. They had vorns to perfect this. Vorns to look up the witnesses, vorns to talk or bribe everyone involved. Maybe they even performed a minor hack on the more stubborn ones." He paused and then shook his head, as the next words sounded bitter: "The rest of us all are now just the actors on their stage."
For a moment, the other one wasn't sure what to say. After the silence between them became awkward he settled on a weak:
You're a good Enforcer, Nightbeat.
The detective didn't take it the wrong way. "Thank you." Then, he walked over, back to Ravage and stopped in front of the smaller mech. "So, are my theories wrong?"
This was dangerous territory. He should say "yes", stand up and walk out through the door. Pit, he should've never came here. But he was and now he felt the desire to tell Nightbeat everything he knew, which wasn't much anyway, just to see the glimmer of excitement in his visor again. Ravage tried to crush the desire ruthlessly.
You are aware that while my creator has left the secret service, I'm still part of it? he asked instead, stalling for time.
"Yes, of course." Nightbeat's visor lightened up and his emotions were amused, but highly alert. "But isn't that even further reason to help me? I admit I know barely more than that, besides that you're one of the most gifted hackers..." He paused. "And now that you're a telepath. Maybe that is connected."
Ravage laughed, he couldn't help himself.
If it were connected, Rumble and Frenzy would hack all and everything they come across. His light thoughts danced into the processor of Nightbeat. At the curious look of the Enforcer, he explained: They share a permanent emotional link with each other. It makes them quite gifted on this scale.
"As gifted as you?" asked the Enforcer curiously.
No. Ravage looked away, back to the pictures. No one is as good as I. Even Soundwave is not. He can only receive thoughts and emotions, while I...
"You can send them, too."
Yes.
Nightbeat was quiet for a klick, and Ravage felt the old trepidation he had long ago tucked away inside himself. Mechs feared telepaths. Feared that they knew too much, knew secrets, used them. It was painfully justified, too. As if to prove it, Ravage couldn't resist any more and touched the mind of the Enforcer again, looking for his thoughts.
He found them easily. They were just as clear and beautiful as all the others before. But even more stunning was the lack of fear. Instead there was only burning curiosity and the quicksilver speed of a intelligent processor.
"Soundwave's speech pattern is strange, and you do not seem to speak at all," said Nightbeat softly. "Is that the price?"
Yes.
It was the easy answer, quick and dirty. Maybe true. But it also could be that Ravage during his slow and stopped ageing, just learned to talk using his gift, while his codes for speech withered, until it was too late. For now, the easy answer was enough.
"Nothing is for free, right?" Nightbeat's curiosity died down a bit as his determination made its comeback. "What about my theories?"
Ravage hesitated once again, not understanding where this strange desire to share his knowledge with this mech came from. Had he been too isolated in the last decaorns? He measured Nightbeat, staring at the mech until he twitched nervously.
I can't tell you much, Ravage answered with a soft purr. My creator, Soundwave doesn't share everything with me.
Nightbeat frowned. "But you know something, right?"
Yes. Ravage unfolded himself and rose from the couch, taking a step nearer to Nightbeat who still sat. Their height difference was so great that Ravage was still barely looking down.
I can tell you this: My creator and Prowl and Jazz rarely saw optic to optic about anything, but when they did... things happened.
"During the war. Right?"
Ravage tilted his head with a smile.
During and after it.
Nightbeat's visor and processor flashed with interest. "And about what things did they see optic to optic?"
Ravage shrugged.
Sparklings. Cybertron. They all wanted to see the next generation to grew up happy and in peace.
A grimace. "That's not a very big similarity. Every Cybertronian shares this!"
The Enforcer truly believed this. Ravage had the sudden astonishing realisation of having found innocence in a former Autobot, who was also an Enforcer. Who investigated the worst crimes and atrocities. Ravage wanted to weep, craving that innocence for himself.
Nightbeat didn't notice, to caught up in analysing every of Ravage's words. "I mean, okay, so that means they did talk to each other about some things, right? Didn't hate each other... that does help actually. What did you mean by things?"
Things. There is a reason those three were the most feared mechs on Cybertron.
And he would say no more. Nightbeat seemed to realise this as he changed the theme. "What else can you tell me?"
He could tell this mech so many things. Of secrets, dark and better left forgotten. But they wouldn't help here, and he refused to destroy any of the past successful plans of his creator or Prowl and Jazz with saying anything too specific. But there was one memory, that had puzzled himself for vorns:
Several vorns after Starscream's sacrifice and death, Jazz waited for me on one of my rounds around our house. I sought the solace, the quiet. In those orns I was... not good. Mechs thought we had lost protection and targeted us. Especially me, as they thought me a cyberanimal, a telepath, a spy, a traitor...
Ravage took a deep breath, stopping the word flood. There had been so many reasons why they had targeted and hated him. He had seen those reasons in their processors, seen himself in their thoughts, how ugly, terrifying, monstrous he was. It had broken him more than the slurs and thrown metalrocks had ever done.
Nightbeat looked at him in understanding, a hand raised as if to comfort, but so uncertain if the comfort was wanted. The former cassetticon straightened. Nightbeat's hand fell away.
Jazz stood there in the alley. Alone. First I thought him another attacker, but instead... he offered me a chance.
He was sure that the Enforcer had heard some of the things which he hadn't mentioned. The fast and brutal fight, the paranoia, the fear when he was on his back with an energy dagger on his neck and a clear view of who he had just attacked.
Nightbeat though just raised an optic ridge, focused on the immediate information and not on the potential humiliation of Ravage. "A chance?" he asked.
Yes. He said nothing more and I declined. Jazz smiled and walked away.
Nightbeat looked as puzzled as if someone had just told him that he had won the Clown of the Year Award. "That was all?"
Yes.
"Strange."
Very, agreed Ravage, remembering how he himself had tried to find meaning in the few sentences exchanged. But my creator... when I came home, he was already waiting at the door. And when I told him about Jazz, he said nothing. Instead he hugged me and...
"And?"
This was intimate. More than anything else so far. Actually, Ravage suddenly realised he would prefer talking about interfacing in detail than to say the next words:
...and all I could feel from him was relief and love.
"Nothing else? No thoughts to explain it?" Nightbeat sounded hopeful, and he was it, too.
Ravage gave him a look that said 'stupid' more than clearly.
He's Soundwave.
Nightbeat sighed. "I suppose I can't expect anything else from Soundwave." And his creation, his thoughts said, but there was no malice. "Any ideas who might know more?"
Did this mech really expect Ravage to point him into some direction? Yes. Yes, he did. He trusted Ravage of all mechs. The smaller mech stared at him and then shrugged:
You could always ask the company 'Red Security'.
A deep sigh and a shake of the head. "I already did. But between Red Alert and Breakdown the paranoia level at that company is so high that they would only share information after a deep spark merge."
Which you weren't willing to provide, I guess?
"'Course not. Those two might be contagious."
They shared a grin.
It was a pity, though. Red Alert had always been the Autobot with the best idea about Prowl and Jazz's schemes. But then, if the two most paranoid mechs on the planet decided to found a security firm together, absurd paranoia was probably expected. Suddenly, Ravage remembered how those two had met - at a security conference after the war. They both had been in charge of security for the other side, which had been kind of a surprise in Breakdown's case. There had been rumours about orders... rumours that Soundwave hadn't
investigated. At that time, Ravage had thought that his creator had just been too busy. Yet maybe...
No. Just no. Now he was becoming paranoid as well.
He stepped a bit back from Nightbeat. For a sparkbeat they both awkwardly waited for something, then Ravage forced himself to say:
I think I told you all I knew. Until... then.
Until probably never.
Nightbeat hastily rose from the couch. "Until then," he smiled. "You really were a great help." He stopped and his thoughts became a chaos of indecision and emotions, then he blurted out: "Maybe I can keep your number to call you?"
Ravage blinked. Call me?
Nightbeat's gaze turned to the floor and then to the wall. "Yes... for questions, maybe? We could meet in a café this time. Or I could invite you to an energon in my apartment again...?"
Again, thought Ravage amused, and then suddenly realised the words. And their true meaning. And the honest, tender motivations behind them. Before he could even think about it more, he had smiled and sent his private comm number.
Of course. Energon sounds good.
Two klicks later, he was on the floor and transformed into his old four-legged mode. He still hadn't managed to convince himself to upgrade all the way - his old altmode was just too comforting and grounding in moments just as these: When his spark spun too fast and his thoughts turned to possibilities and dreams.