I'm incredibly fortunate to have access to a less shady relinquishment clinic. It's been a part of the department ever since I talked Prowl out of having it shut down. I know, I know, the clinics are horrible places and fronts for the Institute. I know that better than most; many of my missions led me to such clinics. But when you're working as a spy with no real means of disguising yourself, or a witness in need of protection, a place that can give you a complete makeover isn't a bad thing to have around. Prowl was forced to agree with the logic and agreed to let it stay open, provided that there be no more donors. New alt-modes had to be non-sentient vehicles. It was not a popular decision, but few dared complain about it.
I'm more than a bit nervous about going to a relinquishment clinic for the first time as a customer. As I said, I've been there several times for missions, sometimes posing as a customer. The clinics have always creeped me out. Right now every shred of common sense and awful memory I have of those places screams at me to turn around and forget the whole thing. But visiting the clinic is a crucial part of the plan - practically the whole thing rides on this trip. If I turn back now, I'll regret it forever.
The clinic is only a stone's throw from the building where Prowl's office is. I reach is much too quickly, steeling myself before entering through the back door. It's a fairly small, unassuming building on the outside. The inside is spacious and tidy, lined with displays and options. A table in the center holds all manner of tools and equipment.
"Well well, look who it is! Shade the untouchable!"
The speaker is none other than the head of the clinic, Turbine. He crosses his arms and smirks at me.
"Heard you ran into some of your purple-plated friends the other day."
I groan inwardly. Has the whole department gotten word of that? I miss the days when hardly anyone knew who I was.
"If it's any consolation, they weren't exactly happy to see me." I speak up again before he can get in any more cracks. "As much as I'd love to exchange pleasantries, I'm here for a makeover."
"Prowl said you might drop by. Got tired of looking like a 'con, huh?"
Scrap it, I walked right into that one. I sigh and make my way over to where he is near the front of the clinic.
"Yeah, well, no one complained when it was helping us win the war."
"Oh, people complained, alright. You were too busy being Prowl's perfect spy to notice."
I glower at him, gritting my denta. He holds up his servos and laughs. He's been like that as long as I've known him, always finding people's sore spot and poking it until they snap at him. He doesn't care so long as he gets paid.
"Alright, I'll drop it. Don't want to drive away one of my few customers."
"You might get more if you quit ticking them off," I mutter.
He ignores my last comment and turns to the computer next to him. "So what can I do for you? You just want new colors or the works?"
"The works, actually. What kind of vehicles do you have?"
He types something in, pulling up a database. "I'm having a sale on military vehicles right now. Not much demand for them now that the war's over."
"Can I look at the selection?"
He turns the monitor so I can see the list. There's all manner of fighter jets, bombers, choppers, and the like. An air-based mode would be too suspicious, seeing as I've never flown before. I'd stick out like a turbofox in the city the first time I got off the ground. I ignore them and focus on the land-based vehicles, which are very few in this list. Most of them are tanks. I'm almost ready to give up and look at the civilian vehicles instead when it dawns on me; I've been geared towards being inconspicuous my whole life. The last thing Mr. I-can-track-800-moving-objects-at-once would expect is a glaringly obvious vehicle. He won't expect me to be so stupid, and that's what I'm counting on. The recent influx of people from all across the galaxy doesn't hurt either; I can blend right into the crowd. There's something to be said for safety in numbers. I scan the list again, my optics finally settling on a vehicle. "That one."
He looks at my choice and chuckles. "Well color me surprised. You sure that's what you want?"
"Positive."
Several hours later Turbine puts down his tools and steps back to admire his work, a pleased grin covering his faceplate from audial to audial.
"Your own creator wouldn't recognize you."
YOU ARE READING
Program: Rewrite
Fanfiction'It's time to pull everything together and put all my plans into action. It's time to initiate Program: Rewrite.' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shade has been a spy for much of her life. She spent years serving the Autobots during which she learned one...
