Aftermath - Chapter 8: Mirage
Universe: Till all are one
Beta: Starfire201
Continuation: AU, G1
Genre: Adventure, drama
Characters: Mirage, Hound, Fortress Maximus, Trypticon, Prowl, Jazz
Summary: "But I think there is more to him than being a noble. After all, he is one of just a handful of nobles surviving the war. Remember how they were hunted down? Yet, he didn't just survive, I heard he became Jazz's most trusted agent. And no mech gets that position just by being a noble."
8. Mirage
It had been hundreds of decavorns since his last mission. The feeling of one was now just as exhilarating as he remembered it to be. He had to fight to keep a smile off his face plates. Officially, he had nothing to smile about.
After all, today he and Hound would betray the confidence of his old friend and superior, Jazz. As state witnesses of the last cases, they would seal their fate to save themselves from punishment.
"Ready?" asked Hound, who stood next to him, concern plain on his face. They were waiting in a small, simple room right next to the Halls of Justice, which was already being filled by the usual crowd of witnesses and important mecha.
Mirage nodded, every inch of him the cool noble he had been raised to be. "Always."
His bondmate smiled fleetingly, then touched his arm in a gesture of reassurance, giving Mirage the needed appearance of emotional warmth. Hound always had a gift for that task.
They both were well aware of the fact that this waiting room was connected to Trypticon's cameras and that the network stations had asked for and received permission to show what happened inside. At this moment, every screen on Cybertron probably pictured them and the four Enforcers who guarding their lives in high definition complete with irrelevant comments of the so called experts. There was more than enough to talk about. After all, when it had become known that they would be state witnesses, they suddenly received dozens of threats.
It was a thoughtful gesture to give them guards, though Mirage had wondered darkly what would happen when an attacker managed to get to Hound or him and was just being ripped apart. After all, they both had been Jazz's elite. Part of Prime's guard and the elimination squad if someone needed to disappear fast and quietly.
He checked his chronometre. Soon, it would start.
Hound stepped a bit closer to him, not exactly embracing him yet, but far nearer than he would've allowed any other bot. It was intimate.
It was the beginning of his mission.
Slowly, he felt out Hound's warm, familiar field. They were similar thanks to being bondmates and as Hound began pulsing softly, they synchronised in less than four klicks. Meditation, endless training and their bond let them accomplish the next step - the synchronisation of their very sparks.
The bond was so wide open by now that it was nearly painful.
He felt Hound inside himself. Was Hound. Was One.
"We need to go," said one of the Enforcers and both mechs nodded - at exactly the same time.
The doors from the small waiting room to the Hall of Justice opened.
And they initiated the sequence.
Hound turned and stepped through the door into the Hall. Next to him was Mirage, aloof and sophisticated as ever. Around them were the Enforcers, all gleaming armour and tense awareness, an obvious warning not to try anything.
Only it was a lie.
The real Mirage watched them go, pressed against the wall beside the door. He felt the strain of the synchronisation and knew that for Hound it had to be worse, because the hologram and situation demanded a lot more concentration, but his bondmate moved like always. Treated the hologram like it really was his bondmate. The only hint that the scout wasn't calm, was the slight nervousness in his gaze, the hesitation in his steps. Hound's acting skills amazed Mirage every time he saw them.
With the bond now firmly shut down as they both couldn't risk the smallest distraction from their mission, he carefully sneaked after them.
The Halls really were a sight to be hold, spacious, with Aequitas on one side and the golden glyphs on which their society rested on the other. It reminded Mirage of the Great concert hall of Iacon, which had been completely destroyed during the War. He had mourned the concert hall like a mech as then he had been convinced that their race would never be able to climb back from that endless spiral of violence and death. To him the Hall of Justice was more, it was a monument that proved that while in war they had been unparalleled monsters to the universe, they also had the ability to be great in peace. It had restored his pride of being a Cybertronian.
The chairs in the observer and normal witness section were already taken by mechs from every corner of Cybertron, former Autobots, Decepticons, neutrals, the rich and the poor, the intelligent, next to brutal thugs. Some he recognised, most he didn't. They all sat together, united, quietly watching the entrance of the state witnesses.
That Hound and Mirage entered later than the normal witnesses and observers had been another security measure, which now worked perfectly to their advantage. No one came close enough to the hologram to touch it, and even if a mech would try, the four Enforcers would no doubt step in.
Mirage let the previously hidden smile slide onto his face. This had been worth the decaorns of time to create those threat messages and small attacks on themselves.
When Hound and the hologram sat down in their chairs, Mirage sighed in relief. Hound's most dangerous part was over - no one would come close to the state witnesses during the trials and their testimonies. As long as Hound kept up the act, no one would ever suspect anything and they both would've the perfect alibi.
"Tz," sneered a mech in the chair a row in front of Mirage suddenly. "That's Mirage? He looks like any slagging noble I've ever seen. All arrogance and pose. And the moment he's in trouble, he sells out his friends."
Mirage just frowned. A long time ago, such comments would've hurt him deeply. By now, he just felt a sense of annoyance.
"Shh." His minibot neighbour gave him a look. "This is not the time, Gatewinder."
"'course it's the time. The Enforcers connect him to a few crimes and instead of defending himself, he starts singing and selling mechs left and right like any true noble," grumbled Gatewinder. "He was just lucky that there were no good witnesses so far, or he probably would already be in prison or something."
"Maybe," acknowledged the other mech. "But I think there is more to him than being a noble. After all, he is one of just a handful of nobles surviving the war. Remember how they were hunted down? Yet, he didn't just survive, I heard he became Jazz's most trusted agent. And no mech gets that position just by being a noble."
Oh, so true. Mirage had bled and killed for his job and position, and had worked harder than anyone until he was the best. That he had been a noble had only helped with the reports he had to fill out - Prowl had sent them back less than to most mechs.
Gatewinder crossed his arms. "Just makes him an even bigger liar."
"Of course." The minibot sighed. "But at least look at his bondmate, he's a commoner like us."
"Who bonded rich, great." Gatewinder narrowed his optics. "That Hound was a spy, too, yes? Probably felt right home with another liar. And didn't the nobles get part of their former territories back? Compensation or something? Slagging rich bunch, they are."
"Oh, come one, Gatewinder, that Hound was a scout. Sure, in Jazz's division, but a lowly, simple scout." The minobot leaned to his friend. "Besides, Mirage did get back part of his territory, but that didn't make him rich."
Gatewind snorted. "How can't you be rich, when you have that much land?"
"'Cause he loved that scout," and here the other mech smirked, "so much that he turned the whole territory into a park for the recovery of Cybertronian wildlife. You might heard of it, it's called the Foundation...?"
Gatewinder stared at his friend with wide optics. "They are the founders...?"
"Sure." The nameless bot grinned.
Mirage decided to remember the minibot's faceplates, just for being so obviously in favour of their project. It had been Hound's dream and he had helped, because it had made Hound happy... but before the vorn had been over, it had become Mirage's dream as well. It was their contribution to rebuilding Cybertron and it made Mirage proud that his ancestor's land now had such a useful and noble purpose.
His time was running out. Hurriedly, he walked, always close to the wall, to the grand doors, which promptly opened with a bang. In marched the accused and for a moment, that took Mirage's breath away. Despite being chained and surrounded by Enforcers, Jazz and Prowl were the very picture of confidence. Helmets held high, chains never stretching, it was seemingly them that determined the walking speed. Maybe they really were.
After all, chains always worked in two ways. And he had seen on more than one occasion how Jazz had demonstrated this little fact with deadly effect. He wondered if the Enforcers knew what they were chained up to. Probably not.
He couldn't analyse them further as the doors already began to close. With care he slipped through them.
Doors and walls would be Mirage's biggest hindrance for his mission. For all his skills at being invisible, he was still there - and doors only opened for mechs Trypticon could see or at least notice.
Yet, here were ways around that and Mirage knew them all.
But those ways depended on the small fact that he was at the right place at the right time. Mirage, after checking his chronometre, began to ran down the corridors, always painfully alert so that he wouldn't bump into anyone. Everywhere were Enforcers with their magnetized badges and security mechs with serious, but by now tired, expressions. Some just were walking somewhere, some guarding doors.
Despite the now settling routine, security was high.
And Mirage was walking right towards its worst spot - the security centre.
He slipped behind a young mech from the Sonic Canyons, easily recognisable by his nervously flashing fins, into the centre and stopped. The room was packed with mechs who talked and ordered and observed the dozens of screens that were plastered on every free space of the wall. It gave the overwhelming impression that the whole room was moving, even though most mechs were actually sitting behind desks, hard-wired into various comm-networks, and coordinating their squads.
Mirage's optics finally rested on Ironhide, who stood at the left side of the room with his legs apart, surrounded by four mechs, of which every one carried at least one datapad. The former bodyguard was reading yet another data pad with a deep frown, commenting on it with short, gruff words every once in a while. His red paint was scuffed as if he hadn't had time for a proper maintenance in the last decaorn. Which was probably true.
Mirage hadn't actually seen him since the celebration creation party of Ultra Magnus' and Thundercracker's first sparkling. He had never been close to Ironhide, certainly neither of them called the other one friend, and after the war they just lived their lives. Now, though, he felt the old familiarity of mates in arms in arms again.
They would've died for each other a long time ago.
Mirage turned away from the Chief Enforcer, searching for the alcove which was his destination. There were several, all lined up next to the door and serving as storage space for various big weapons. Surprisingly many were empty. He found the right one - number 235 - and huddled in it. Waiting.
In the centre of the wall, right across from the door through which he had entered, were the big screens that showed the trial. Prowl and Jazz had entered without deigning Hound or Holo-Mirage a single glance. Hound, on the other hand, openly stared at them, the sorrow on his face as clear as if one had used a brush to paint the very glyphs on it, while Holo-Mirage looked ahead, tense and anxious.
Could one really read his emotions so clearly?
"Riot!" one of the Enforcers suddenly screamed.
Ironhide's head snapped towards him. "Explain, Enforcer!"
"Riot at the front entrance. It seems that the group that believes them to be innocent has attacked those that're demanding their deactivation..." The Enforcer's words trailed a bit as he realised that this was not the data Ironhide wanted. "Anyway, sir, both groups are around twenty mechs strong," a beep and he looked at his screen. "Correction, thirty mechs by now. The Enforcers at the entrance attempt to calm them, but are being ignored! They need support, immediately."
"Just slagging great." Ironhide frowned. "Group- D, Q and T - what are you waiting for? Get your weapons, regroup and move! Controllers, I want the other groups informed and alert! This could be a distraction. I need patrols in every corridor!"
From one moment to another, chaos broke out. Mechs were running into every directions, screaming orders and good-luck-wishes, grabbing weapons, shields, communicators and seemingly everything they could get their servos on.
Mirage stayed where he was. Good, old Ironhide. He always had good instincts.
"Mirage?" asked someone quietly.
He looked to the left and smiled. She really had become good, when she could sneak up on him. "Howlback," he greeted. "Do you have them?"
She scowled. "Of course." The former Autobot undercover agent moved to take the weapon in the alcove next to Mirage, and at the same time let something drop into his arms. Any casual observer would've just seen a small movement, easily dismissed by getting her weapon.
Without further words, she turned and joined the frenzy, yelling designations and orders.
Mirage didn't care. He cradled the two packages, stood, and followed the next mech outside. Thankfully, there were enough mechs running around that the one he touched by accident didn't even turn to look.
Mirage ran. Time was working against him, and he had to reach his next meeting point or all of it would've been for nothing.
He turned corners, following the Enforcers that spread out everywhere - even to the hallways that led deep into the prisons. The Enforcer before him stopped at his guarding point, the entrance to the prison which was a huge metal door secured with everything their planet had to offer.
Only Trypticon could open it without using enough explosives to incinerate the door, the wall and probably a good chunk of the whole building.
And in an emergency, the cityformer would open it for only one mech.
Hasty steps approached and before long, Fortress Maximus came down the hallways, face deadly serious. No doubt, he had already heard about the riot from Trypticon - who certainly had asked the mech to return into the main body of the cityformer. Cityformers were notorious about protecting their citizens, and as Maximus was the only true citizen Trypticon would want him as safe as possible. And the nearest entrance to Trypticon's main body and the prison complex from the balcony in which Maximus had observed the trial was the very one next to Mirage.
Maximus didn't even slow down as he approached the door - which slid apart eagerly and widely, welcoming the city master and citizen back.
It was enough for Mirage. He slipped in right next to Maximus.
He had done it.
Fortress Maximus walked on, but the agent stopped for an astrosecond, calming down. His processor called up the plans he had been sent by an anonymous associate in the Network. The map had been detailed, so detailed in fact, that he had wondered if someone had hacked the poor cityformer.
His system and thoughts calmed and he continued his way deeper into the prison, avoiding another trap every few steps. The map showed dozens of security measures and he if he triggered only one, he would into deep slag.
Finally, he reached the right cell door. It was nearly disappointing how simple it was. He put the two packages on the floor and gently - so as not to hurt and alert the cityformer - opened the wall across the door and connected to a cable that ran through there.
The anonymous message had included a code to an old virus from the Decepticon era. He prayed that this stranger really had been right about the code and that Trypticon was still infected by the virus. He sent the code.
For long astroseconds nothing happened.
Was Trypticon already alerting the Enforcers to the presence of an intruder? Was Hound all right? For a terrible moment he was tempted to wake their bond to know.
Then, the door next to him slid open and Mirage sagged in relief.
He took his two packages and entered the cell which had been the home of Prowl and Jazz over the last several orns. It was a luxurious cell as far as prison cells went. It even had a terminal! Surprised and amused, Mirage walked to the berths. One berth was nearly empty and obviously in use, on the other one laid book files and a single game of Track.
Mirage smiled sadly. So, they still didn't sleep in separate berths. When he had learned of the habit, he had thought it cute. Later on, he reasoned that they did it to keep nightmares at bay. Only when he really became Jazz's friend did the mech confess that he slept on Prowl out of fear of assassins. Peace should've broken that habit.
Gently, he placed his packages next to the game and left the cell again, wishing he could've at least spoken with them once. However, all words between them had been said, and now even his part was done.
His promise was fulfilled.
He walked back the way he'd come just as carefully as the first time, and found himself in front of the door again. His instructions said to use the code again, and so he turned to the wall.
The door slid open, before he could touch the metal.
Mirage stared at it, then looked back the way he had come. Nothing. He was alone.
Slag.
::Go,:: said a deep voice, Trypticon, over his comm lines. ::Inspectors are coming.::
The former agent obeyed automatically and details that had escaped him before fell into place. Surprised, he asked: ::You?! You're my contact?::
::Yes.:: Trypticon sounded amused and proud of himself.
Before Mirage could reply, the the cityformer cut the connection. A sensible move, as there always was the risk that someone would detect just the wrong frequency.
Still... of all mechs, Trypticon, the very prison itself, was helping them.
Just as Trypticon and the whole of Cybertron gave Mirage an alibi, the camera and sensor logs would give Trypticon one. The one door that had open by itself, could be easily explained - if Trypticon didn't erase the log information completely anyway.
The virus probably had just been the way to keep something out of the log system altogether. It had made the cityformer vulnerable, but when he had expected the virus, Mirage wouldn't have been able to do anything without Trypticon's permission.
It was brilliant. It was a Prowl and Jazz plan.
In a good mood, Mirage made his way back into the waiting room. When the break bell sounded, the four Enforcers led Hound and Holo-Mirage back to the room to refresh themselves and to be safe from the now freely walking mechs.
The switch back was effortless in comparison to the first one.
The green and white scout leaned against him, tired on an emotional and physical level. Mirage embraced his bulkier frame as good as he could, a silent apology that he had left Hound alone with the burden of both their testimonies.
"How are you?" asked his bondmate.
Mirage sighed. "I'm well." He shuttered his optics as the exhilaration drained away, leaving only the grief and tiredness behind. "I think this all will be over soon."
00000
Next chapter: Ratchet
And sadly, Mirage is right. The end is near. 10 chapters + Epiloge has the story.
Beta: Starfire201
Continuation: AU, G1
Genre: Adventure, drama
Characters: Mirage, Hound, Fortress Maximus, Trypticon, Prowl, Jazz
Summary: "But I think there is more to him than being a noble. After all, he is one of just a handful of nobles surviving the war. Remember how they were hunted down? Yet, he didn't just survive, I heard he became Jazz's most trusted agent. And no mech gets that position just by being a noble."
8. Mirage
It had been hundreds of decavorns since his last mission. The feeling of one was now just as exhilarating as he remembered it to be. He had to fight to keep a smile off his face plates. Officially, he had nothing to smile about.
After all, today he and Hound would betray the confidence of his old friend and superior, Jazz. As state witnesses of the last cases, they would seal their fate to save themselves from punishment.
"Ready?" asked Hound, who stood next to him, concern plain on his face. They were waiting in a small, simple room right next to the Halls of Justice, which was already being filled by the usual crowd of witnesses and important mecha.
Mirage nodded, every inch of him the cool noble he had been raised to be. "Always."
His bondmate smiled fleetingly, then touched his arm in a gesture of reassurance, giving Mirage the needed appearance of emotional warmth. Hound always had a gift for that task.
They both were well aware of the fact that this waiting room was connected to Trypticon's cameras and that the network stations had asked for and received permission to show what happened inside. At this moment, every screen on Cybertron probably pictured them and the four Enforcers who guarding their lives in high definition complete with irrelevant comments of the so called experts. There was more than enough to talk about. After all, when it had become known that they would be state witnesses, they suddenly received dozens of threats.
It was a thoughtful gesture to give them guards, though Mirage had wondered darkly what would happen when an attacker managed to get to Hound or him and was just being ripped apart. After all, they both had been Jazz's elite. Part of Prime's guard and the elimination squad if someone needed to disappear fast and quietly.
He checked his chronometre. Soon, it would start.
Hound stepped a bit closer to him, not exactly embracing him yet, but far nearer than he would've allowed any other bot. It was intimate.
It was the beginning of his mission.
Slowly, he felt out Hound's warm, familiar field. They were similar thanks to being bondmates and as Hound began pulsing softly, they synchronised in less than four klicks. Meditation, endless training and their bond let them accomplish the next step - the synchronisation of their very sparks.
The bond was so wide open by now that it was nearly painful.
He felt Hound inside himself. Was Hound. Was One.
"We need to go," said one of the Enforcers and both mechs nodded - at exactly the same time.
The doors from the small waiting room to the Hall of Justice opened.
And they initiated the sequence.
Hound turned and stepped through the door into the Hall. Next to him was Mirage, aloof and sophisticated as ever. Around them were the Enforcers, all gleaming armour and tense awareness, an obvious warning not to try anything.
Only it was a lie.
The real Mirage watched them go, pressed against the wall beside the door. He felt the strain of the synchronisation and knew that for Hound it had to be worse, because the hologram and situation demanded a lot more concentration, but his bondmate moved like always. Treated the hologram like it really was his bondmate. The only hint that the scout wasn't calm, was the slight nervousness in his gaze, the hesitation in his steps. Hound's acting skills amazed Mirage every time he saw them.
With the bond now firmly shut down as they both couldn't risk the smallest distraction from their mission, he carefully sneaked after them.
The Halls really were a sight to be hold, spacious, with Aequitas on one side and the golden glyphs on which their society rested on the other. It reminded Mirage of the Great concert hall of Iacon, which had been completely destroyed during the War. He had mourned the concert hall like a mech as then he had been convinced that their race would never be able to climb back from that endless spiral of violence and death. To him the Hall of Justice was more, it was a monument that proved that while in war they had been unparalleled monsters to the universe, they also had the ability to be great in peace. It had restored his pride of being a Cybertronian.
The chairs in the observer and normal witness section were already taken by mechs from every corner of Cybertron, former Autobots, Decepticons, neutrals, the rich and the poor, the intelligent, next to brutal thugs. Some he recognised, most he didn't. They all sat together, united, quietly watching the entrance of the state witnesses.
That Hound and Mirage entered later than the normal witnesses and observers had been another security measure, which now worked perfectly to their advantage. No one came close enough to the hologram to touch it, and even if a mech would try, the four Enforcers would no doubt step in.
Mirage let the previously hidden smile slide onto his face. This had been worth the decaorns of time to create those threat messages and small attacks on themselves.
When Hound and the hologram sat down in their chairs, Mirage sighed in relief. Hound's most dangerous part was over - no one would come close to the state witnesses during the trials and their testimonies. As long as Hound kept up the act, no one would ever suspect anything and they both would've the perfect alibi.
"Tz," sneered a mech in the chair a row in front of Mirage suddenly. "That's Mirage? He looks like any slagging noble I've ever seen. All arrogance and pose. And the moment he's in trouble, he sells out his friends."
Mirage just frowned. A long time ago, such comments would've hurt him deeply. By now, he just felt a sense of annoyance.
"Shh." His minibot neighbour gave him a look. "This is not the time, Gatewinder."
"'course it's the time. The Enforcers connect him to a few crimes and instead of defending himself, he starts singing and selling mechs left and right like any true noble," grumbled Gatewinder. "He was just lucky that there were no good witnesses so far, or he probably would already be in prison or something."
"Maybe," acknowledged the other mech. "But I think there is more to him than being a noble. After all, he is one of just a handful of nobles surviving the war. Remember how they were hunted down? Yet, he didn't just survive, I heard he became Jazz's most trusted agent. And no mech gets that position just by being a noble."
Oh, so true. Mirage had bled and killed for his job and position, and had worked harder than anyone until he was the best. That he had been a noble had only helped with the reports he had to fill out - Prowl had sent them back less than to most mechs.
Gatewinder crossed his arms. "Just makes him an even bigger liar."
"Of course." The minibot sighed. "But at least look at his bondmate, he's a commoner like us."
"Who bonded rich, great." Gatewinder narrowed his optics. "That Hound was a spy, too, yes? Probably felt right home with another liar. And didn't the nobles get part of their former territories back? Compensation or something? Slagging rich bunch, they are."
"Oh, come one, Gatewinder, that Hound was a scout. Sure, in Jazz's division, but a lowly, simple scout." The minobot leaned to his friend. "Besides, Mirage did get back part of his territory, but that didn't make him rich."
Gatewind snorted. "How can't you be rich, when you have that much land?"
"'Cause he loved that scout," and here the other mech smirked, "so much that he turned the whole territory into a park for the recovery of Cybertronian wildlife. You might heard of it, it's called the Foundation...?"
Gatewinder stared at his friend with wide optics. "They are the founders...?"
"Sure." The nameless bot grinned.
Mirage decided to remember the minibot's faceplates, just for being so obviously in favour of their project. It had been Hound's dream and he had helped, because it had made Hound happy... but before the vorn had been over, it had become Mirage's dream as well. It was their contribution to rebuilding Cybertron and it made Mirage proud that his ancestor's land now had such a useful and noble purpose.
His time was running out. Hurriedly, he walked, always close to the wall, to the grand doors, which promptly opened with a bang. In marched the accused and for a moment, that took Mirage's breath away. Despite being chained and surrounded by Enforcers, Jazz and Prowl were the very picture of confidence. Helmets held high, chains never stretching, it was seemingly them that determined the walking speed. Maybe they really were.
After all, chains always worked in two ways. And he had seen on more than one occasion how Jazz had demonstrated this little fact with deadly effect. He wondered if the Enforcers knew what they were chained up to. Probably not.
He couldn't analyse them further as the doors already began to close. With care he slipped through them.
Doors and walls would be Mirage's biggest hindrance for his mission. For all his skills at being invisible, he was still there - and doors only opened for mechs Trypticon could see or at least notice.
Yet, here were ways around that and Mirage knew them all.
But those ways depended on the small fact that he was at the right place at the right time. Mirage, after checking his chronometre, began to ran down the corridors, always painfully alert so that he wouldn't bump into anyone. Everywhere were Enforcers with their magnetized badges and security mechs with serious, but by now tired, expressions. Some just were walking somewhere, some guarding doors.
Despite the now settling routine, security was high.
And Mirage was walking right towards its worst spot - the security centre.
He slipped behind a young mech from the Sonic Canyons, easily recognisable by his nervously flashing fins, into the centre and stopped. The room was packed with mechs who talked and ordered and observed the dozens of screens that were plastered on every free space of the wall. It gave the overwhelming impression that the whole room was moving, even though most mechs were actually sitting behind desks, hard-wired into various comm-networks, and coordinating their squads.
Mirage's optics finally rested on Ironhide, who stood at the left side of the room with his legs apart, surrounded by four mechs, of which every one carried at least one datapad. The former bodyguard was reading yet another data pad with a deep frown, commenting on it with short, gruff words every once in a while. His red paint was scuffed as if he hadn't had time for a proper maintenance in the last decaorn. Which was probably true.
Mirage hadn't actually seen him since the celebration creation party of Ultra Magnus' and Thundercracker's first sparkling. He had never been close to Ironhide, certainly neither of them called the other one friend, and after the war they just lived their lives. Now, though, he felt the old familiarity of mates in arms in arms again.
They would've died for each other a long time ago.
Mirage turned away from the Chief Enforcer, searching for the alcove which was his destination. There were several, all lined up next to the door and serving as storage space for various big weapons. Surprisingly many were empty. He found the right one - number 235 - and huddled in it. Waiting.
In the centre of the wall, right across from the door through which he had entered, were the big screens that showed the trial. Prowl and Jazz had entered without deigning Hound or Holo-Mirage a single glance. Hound, on the other hand, openly stared at them, the sorrow on his face as clear as if one had used a brush to paint the very glyphs on it, while Holo-Mirage looked ahead, tense and anxious.
Could one really read his emotions so clearly?
"Riot!" one of the Enforcers suddenly screamed.
Ironhide's head snapped towards him. "Explain, Enforcer!"
"Riot at the front entrance. It seems that the group that believes them to be innocent has attacked those that're demanding their deactivation..." The Enforcer's words trailed a bit as he realised that this was not the data Ironhide wanted. "Anyway, sir, both groups are around twenty mechs strong," a beep and he looked at his screen. "Correction, thirty mechs by now. The Enforcers at the entrance attempt to calm them, but are being ignored! They need support, immediately."
"Just slagging great." Ironhide frowned. "Group- D, Q and T - what are you waiting for? Get your weapons, regroup and move! Controllers, I want the other groups informed and alert! This could be a distraction. I need patrols in every corridor!"
From one moment to another, chaos broke out. Mechs were running into every directions, screaming orders and good-luck-wishes, grabbing weapons, shields, communicators and seemingly everything they could get their servos on.
Mirage stayed where he was. Good, old Ironhide. He always had good instincts.
"Mirage?" asked someone quietly.
He looked to the left and smiled. She really had become good, when she could sneak up on him. "Howlback," he greeted. "Do you have them?"
She scowled. "Of course." The former Autobot undercover agent moved to take the weapon in the alcove next to Mirage, and at the same time let something drop into his arms. Any casual observer would've just seen a small movement, easily dismissed by getting her weapon.
Without further words, she turned and joined the frenzy, yelling designations and orders.
Mirage didn't care. He cradled the two packages, stood, and followed the next mech outside. Thankfully, there were enough mechs running around that the one he touched by accident didn't even turn to look.
Mirage ran. Time was working against him, and he had to reach his next meeting point or all of it would've been for nothing.
He turned corners, following the Enforcers that spread out everywhere - even to the hallways that led deep into the prisons. The Enforcer before him stopped at his guarding point, the entrance to the prison which was a huge metal door secured with everything their planet had to offer.
Only Trypticon could open it without using enough explosives to incinerate the door, the wall and probably a good chunk of the whole building.
And in an emergency, the cityformer would open it for only one mech.
Hasty steps approached and before long, Fortress Maximus came down the hallways, face deadly serious. No doubt, he had already heard about the riot from Trypticon - who certainly had asked the mech to return into the main body of the cityformer. Cityformers were notorious about protecting their citizens, and as Maximus was the only true citizen Trypticon would want him as safe as possible. And the nearest entrance to Trypticon's main body and the prison complex from the balcony in which Maximus had observed the trial was the very one next to Mirage.
Maximus didn't even slow down as he approached the door - which slid apart eagerly and widely, welcoming the city master and citizen back.
It was enough for Mirage. He slipped in right next to Maximus.
He had done it.
Fortress Maximus walked on, but the agent stopped for an astrosecond, calming down. His processor called up the plans he had been sent by an anonymous associate in the Network. The map had been detailed, so detailed in fact, that he had wondered if someone had hacked the poor cityformer.
His system and thoughts calmed and he continued his way deeper into the prison, avoiding another trap every few steps. The map showed dozens of security measures and he if he triggered only one, he would into deep slag.
Finally, he reached the right cell door. It was nearly disappointing how simple it was. He put the two packages on the floor and gently - so as not to hurt and alert the cityformer - opened the wall across the door and connected to a cable that ran through there.
The anonymous message had included a code to an old virus from the Decepticon era. He prayed that this stranger really had been right about the code and that Trypticon was still infected by the virus. He sent the code.
For long astroseconds nothing happened.
Was Trypticon already alerting the Enforcers to the presence of an intruder? Was Hound all right? For a terrible moment he was tempted to wake their bond to know.
Then, the door next to him slid open and Mirage sagged in relief.
He took his two packages and entered the cell which had been the home of Prowl and Jazz over the last several orns. It was a luxurious cell as far as prison cells went. It even had a terminal! Surprised and amused, Mirage walked to the berths. One berth was nearly empty and obviously in use, on the other one laid book files and a single game of Track.
Mirage smiled sadly. So, they still didn't sleep in separate berths. When he had learned of the habit, he had thought it cute. Later on, he reasoned that they did it to keep nightmares at bay. Only when he really became Jazz's friend did the mech confess that he slept on Prowl out of fear of assassins. Peace should've broken that habit.
Gently, he placed his packages next to the game and left the cell again, wishing he could've at least spoken with them once. However, all words between them had been said, and now even his part was done.
His promise was fulfilled.
He walked back the way he'd come just as carefully as the first time, and found himself in front of the door again. His instructions said to use the code again, and so he turned to the wall.
The door slid open, before he could touch the metal.
Mirage stared at it, then looked back the way he had come. Nothing. He was alone.
Slag.
::Go,:: said a deep voice, Trypticon, over his comm lines. ::Inspectors are coming.::
The former agent obeyed automatically and details that had escaped him before fell into place. Surprised, he asked: ::You?! You're my contact?::
::Yes.:: Trypticon sounded amused and proud of himself.
Before Mirage could reply, the the cityformer cut the connection. A sensible move, as there always was the risk that someone would detect just the wrong frequency.
Still... of all mechs, Trypticon, the very prison itself, was helping them.
Just as Trypticon and the whole of Cybertron gave Mirage an alibi, the camera and sensor logs would give Trypticon one. The one door that had open by itself, could be easily explained - if Trypticon didn't erase the log information completely anyway.
The virus probably had just been the way to keep something out of the log system altogether. It had made the cityformer vulnerable, but when he had expected the virus, Mirage wouldn't have been able to do anything without Trypticon's permission.
It was brilliant. It was a Prowl and Jazz plan.
In a good mood, Mirage made his way back into the waiting room. When the break bell sounded, the four Enforcers led Hound and Holo-Mirage back to the room to refresh themselves and to be safe from the now freely walking mechs.
The switch back was effortless in comparison to the first one.
The green and white scout leaned against him, tired on an emotional and physical level. Mirage embraced his bulkier frame as good as he could, a silent apology that he had left Hound alone with the burden of both their testimonies.
"How are you?" asked his bondmate.
Mirage sighed. "I'm well." He shuttered his optics as the exhilaration drained away, leaving only the grief and tiredness behind. "I think this all will be over soon."
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Next chapter: Ratchet
And sadly, Mirage is right. The end is near. 10 chapters + Epiloge has the story.