Mission: Mirage

Prominence walked into the brig with a mission, and rifle slung over their shoulder by a strap. They freed the bored mech from his guard duties and sat down.

In the cell sat a blue and white grounder. The golden optics set him apart from his Autobot brethren, as did his background.

Once the guard was well and truly out of earshot Prominence got up and crouched down in front of the cell, the bars bathing them in the same light as the Autobot.

"Mirage. You're a towersmech."

The Autobot looked at Prominence down his nasal bridge, which was quite the feat considering he was smaller than Prominence and sitting on his aft. A corner of Prominence's mouth ticked up just perceptibly.

"Yes, obviously", Mirage said, oh-so-haughty. Just like Blast Off.

"I want to know about Towers. It was the cultural hub of Cybertron, wasn't it?"

"Hm. Might be easier if you hadn't destroyed it", Mirage replied.

Prominence approximated a sigh and balanced their rifle on their knees, quietly fiddling with the mesh strap.

"I never saw it", they admitted. "When I was constructed the war was already in full swing."

"My spark bleeds for you", Mirage said flatly. Prominence smiled as they lifted their optics to Mirage.

"I've pestered Blast Off about it, but getting anything out of him passes for work", Prominence chatted.

Mirage leaned closer, optics narrowed.

"Why do you care?" he demanded haughtily. "Why don't you just hack me and pull the information out of me?" he continued in the same tone, but this was needling.

"That'd literally be work", Prominence said, a smile playing on their lipplates as they stood up and placed their rifle on the chair.

"I did get something out of Blast Off, though. Some old vids and recordings." They bent down into a stretch like an Earth dancer preparing for a performance, and shot a grin in the direction of the suspiciously watching Mirage.

Prominence reached in their subspace and pulled out a music player. Not one of those Earth contraptions; they weren't able to repeat Cybertronian music without some serious retrofitting.

Prominence pushed the player onto the chair next to their rifle, crouching down to fiddle with the settings, and tilted their helm to listen that the track began.

Mirage made a strangled sound at the familiar first beats of the track. The sound quality wasn't much, but this had been a popular dance track in the towers, performed live by numerous different musicians and dancers and those who danced their music.

This Decepticon wasn't like Jazz, couldn't have danced their music, but they had the background track. They could just dance. Mirage was curious which of the also numerous different dances for this track the Seeker had learnt.

Prominence began moving with the multi-layered beat, frame following one beat, biolights another. The dimly lit brig served well as a setting for a biolightshow.

Mirage noted the dance followed the lines of some flier performances he had seen. Some parts Mirage recognised as one shuttle dancer's signature moves, not surprising considering whom the jet had wheedled vidfiles out of.

There was some sloppiness in the jet's movements, most likely courtesy of learning from a file and not from a performer, poses missing just the final reach, but it wasn't half bad.

Toward the end of the track the jet went more and more off-script, a bright grin on their face as their body movements started to more and more resemble Earth dance moves, while their biolights still kept to the original dance's light patterns.

Once the track ended, the jet scrambled to turn off the music player before the next track had a chance to begin. Mirage clapped deliberately.

"To whom am I expected to pay the fee for witnessing this performance?" he asked the jet.

The jet crouched back in front of the bars, a slanted smile on their faceplates, and shook their helm.

"I'd say you already paid the fee, getting caught and all", they said, sobering quickly.

Mirage folded his hands in his lap.

"Your movements are choppy", he said.

The jet nodded, crossing their hands in front of their mouth thoughtfully.

"You started off within the parametres of the original dance -- I recognise the performer's style -- but in the end you started mixing it up. I'm sure I saw some Praxian dance in there -- works well with your wings, might I say -- and -- was that Earth dancing?" Mirage continued his impromptu critique.

"Mmmyep", the jet agreed, standing up to do a little twirl, repeating the display of waist flexibility that the move necessitated. The jet had an atypically curved waist, which created a pleasant visual with this sort of movement.

Mirage had to wonder if the curve was within their original frame parametres or a change they took on after coming to Earth. Most mecha didn't have much definition about their waists. Starscream had had some impressively curvy frames in his time, though, as well as some with extremely strait hips. As far as Mirage was aware, those were modifications, though.

"And yes on the Praxian, too", said the jet. Mirage nodded, quietly wondering if the files for those were from Vortex rather than Blast Off. Soundwave was another possibility, he supposed. Oh, well.

"I don't think I caught your name", Mirage said instead.

The jet made an odd little lopsided bow.

"Prominence of Kaon, at your service. Well, to an extent." The mech crouched back down, a small smile on their faceplates.

"And you know who I am", Mirage said, inclining his helm in acknowledgment.

It made sense. This Prominence had a very Decepticon-typical combination of accents, Kaonian, Vosian and Tarnish, none overpowering the other, which indicated construction after the outbreak of the war rather than before it. Megatron still held onto a strong Tarnish accent, Starscream his Vosian, even going as far as mixing true Vose with his accented neocybex. Many mecha still held onto their roots by speaking the accent of their city-state of creation.

Prominence turned to look at the door to the brig, and stood up slowly.

"Ah. Prisoner exchange time, it seems", they explained their sudden inattention, then turned to look at Mirage. "You know, Swindle has a business associate among you guys. If you ever change your mind about sharing your cultural data, I'm sure you know whom I'm talking about."

They did a little upwards finger movement, not waiting for Mirage to stand up before turning away to deposit their music player back in their subspace and sling their rifle across their shoulder.

The door to the brig opened and admitted mecha to help with moving Mirage. You could never be too sure with the Spec Ops mecha, and losing a prisoner before a trade was kind of awkward.