Beeps and Buzzes

🌒 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

　　　　　　　

Moments after leaving, Bee was able to contact both Mirage and Sideswipe for backup.

Mirage (or 'Dino', an alias for personal reasons) staked a claim to highly advanced Holographic technology that allowed him to blend in with or confound others. Going on many infiltration missions since arrival, often teaming up with Bee.

You hadn't spoken to him before. This was the first time of meeting him in person, coming with the embarrassment of asking Bee 'who is that other Bot?' as soon as the Red Ferrari 458 rolled up.

Otherwise, you'd only really met and talked with Sideswipe. He often sat in during your training sessions either watching or going through tutelage. Both of you got along well enough. You were aware he taught Skidz and Mudflap once upon a time in Scotland? Mainly as the twins have gone over the whole 'Outlaw Blue' saga so many times it grew less impressive.

You also knew Sideswipe gave up training them. Completely understandable.

Escorting the three full blooded humans to a dingy little Russian Dive after hours of roaming Washington stalking two old Cosmonauts, as everyone does.

The three Autobots parked as close as possible, you needing little encouragement to tail behind Simmons as he approached a watchmens door.

He knocked.

Immediately, the panel slid open.

"do svidaniya"

"That means goodbye", peeping window sealed up, Simmons pulled a face. Knocking once again, slipping money to the bouncer who welcomed you all inside without issue.

Door slamming shut as soon as you all entered, reflexively you dropped the hologram disguising your arm. Just in case. Plus it looked threatening. This place gave sketchy a bad name.

Hovering behind Simmons, gazing around, uneasy over being in such a sexually charged environment. Men eyeballing women scantily clad, most quite clearly drunk, guns hidden in various pockets only further enhanced your ill-ease.

"- it's a Cyrillic alphabet! It's like all the buttons you don't press on a calculator! I don't suck"

Approaching the targets, hovering behind Simmons who presently occupied the opposing seat. Sizing them up, speaking up a no-nonsense tone after squaring up "Agent Seymour Simmons in Sector 8, formerly 7," oh wait he was still an agent? Didn't know that "we know who you are. Cosmonaut Czechs"

"So what?"

"you were supposed to travel to the dark side of the moon then it all got shut down" he grabbed a bottle of gin, helping himself to a shot glass "the question is why"

A lady in a white fur coat spoke, you being unable to translate the dialogue, although you had enough common sense to believe it may have been 'want security?'.

Next thing you knew, after some aggressive yelling, guns of all varieties were pulled from their concealment. One shoved right in your face by a burly man, barrel aimed against your cranium.

Breath hitching, eyes darting across the room in a panic "can we talk about this like rational people -" metal arm snared, forced into the small of your back in a painful grip. Stumbling forwards at the ferocity of the movement, wheezing "- cool, cool, cool. Or we can do that, this is fine. Cosy,"