-o-o-o-

o-o

“Watch where you’re walking!” Sunstreaker snarled as Sideswipe bumped into him. The ruby mech was carrying a stack of crates and couldn’t see his twin. Both nearly toppled to the ground.

“How about taking a crate or two and helping me instead of yelling!?” Sideswipe snapped in equally foul temper.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess had you not provoked Prowl,” Sunstreaker growled, taking a crate and kicking his brother in the shin for good measure.

Sideswipe yelped, hopping on one leg and struggling to balance the boxy cargo.

“Hey, my plan would have worked had Blaster not been electrocuted,” Sideswipe protested.

“Right,” Sunstreaker snorted. “So Prowl volunteers us to do the heavy lifting and help Wheeljack move his lab.  Forgetting the fact that we are unstable and hauling around equipment that is just as volatile as the mech who works on them.” Sunstreaker sent a glare to Wheeljack was who foreseeing the relocation process.  “Two unstable elements make for a very explosive reaction.”

“Have you been hanging out with Perceptor?” Sideswipe asked, setting his crate down next to the one Sunstreaker just deposited.

Sunstreaker chose not to reply as several other mechs milled about, moving their burdens to a specific order as Wheeljack instructed. How the mech was able to tell what was being transported among the vast assortment of junk, no one could fathom. Sunstreaker thought it was in a long time coming but why he and Sideswipe had to lift the heaviest machinery was a mystery. There were mechs more suited to the heavy lifting than the Lamborghinis.

“Sideswipe,” Ironhide called, motioning the red warrior to him. “Grab that end.”

"I’m not grabbing your end,” Sideswipe snickered that turned into a sigh as he went to Ironhide to help lift a large framework that was to serve as a kind of bomb shelter for Wheeljack when he was experimenting with explosives.

Actually, anything Wheeljack worked on could be labeled as an explosive. It was safe to say the entire base should be reinforced like the blast shield, which was why  everyone was working to assist the transition. The sooner Wheeljack was confined to an area structurally reinforced and encased with a blast shield, the better.

The twins were just grateful their comrades volunteered to help. It would have taken twice as long had they performed all the work themselves.

“Higher,” Ironhide barked gruffly to Sideswipe.

Juggling heavy machinery, Sideswipe teetered to compensate for the bulky equipment. Unfortunately,  Sideswipe couldn't balance the heavy weight and Ironhide had the machine to drop on his pede. He bellowed out a curse attached to Sideswipe’s designation.

Sideswipe staggered with the sudden shift of the devices full weight, and when it hit the ground, the switch activated. The device hummed, emitting an orange glow that encompassed Ironhide and polarized him.  Which meant Sideswipe went headfirst into Ironhide’s chest plates.  Sideswipe’s whole body molded to Ironhide, their reds clashing violently and making Sunstreaker cringe.

Wheeljack went running to the duo, assuring them the polarity was short lived and they wouldn’t be permanently magnetized together.

Sideswipe squawked and flailed about, looking like he was dirty dancing with Ironhide, who kept barking at the frontliner to stop moving.

Sunstreaker waved off his brother's yelps of assistance and turned to enter the Ark.

So intent on the chaotic, but hilarious scene, Sunstreaker wasn’t watching where he was going.  A resounding clang echoed in his audios as something heavy and metal collided with his chest.  He had the fleeting image of a wide optic Red Alert standing behind a piece of machinery, before the unknown device emitted sparks and exploded in a symphony of color.

The device detonated, throwing Sunstreaker and Red Alert several feet apart.

Sound was removed from existence as the device took its final deep breath before releasing its fury to the heavens. The light shot upwards in a beacon, shimmering in a beautiful mosaic that would have been captured on Sunstreaker’s canvas had he been conscious to see it.

When sound fell heavily once again, Ratchet was called out to assist in the assorted injuries, the medic grumbling about his workload and the ingrates who enjoyed their pastime of self harming.

Red Alert and Sunstreaker were immediately rushed to medbay, where Ratchet pried off their chest plating and scanned for damage. Strangely enough, the paint on both chassis was blistered, but the heat didn’t penetrate the armor. Internals showed an elevation of five degrees, but it was already being dispelled by internal fans.  The damage had only been cosmetic.

A rarity in and of itself.

o-o-o-o-o-o

The first thing Sunstreaker was aware of was a nagging beep.  Several of them in fact. And they all were stationed near his audios with their volume turned to maximum.  A burning along his helm signaled he had received cranial damage but he couldn’t remember how. He tried to think back, searching memory files for the last time stamp, but things were jumbled too badly to recall. Checking his chronometer, he started, realizing three days had passed.

Primus, what kind of hit did he take to the helm?

No wonder his head hurt and his processor felt like it was scrambled and fried.  An alert blinked on his HUD and with trepidation, he gave the command for the file to open.

He could remember his twin in a tangle with Ironhide, their colors clashing horribly. Then there was a whirlwind of gold and white, all jumbled together until nothing but brilliant white filled his vision and he knew no more.

Great.

Something blew up in his face.

Typical.

Wheeljack was involved, so there was a high probability of danger with the pyrotechnic.

Sunstreaker inwardly groaned.

Sideswipe was nearby, Sunstreaker could sense him, though it felt like he was wrapped in a thermal blanket. Sensations were muted, distorted.  There was a good chance Ratchet had used a high powered sedative on him, probably to keep him from thrashing. Sunstreaker had a habit of fighting when he was asleep. It was why he never had a berth partner for long. His survival programming during nightmares kept sending them to medbay.

Sunstreaker slowly opened his optics and sure enough, there was the ugly orange ceiling mocking him like a childish pumpkin. He really hated the Ark color scheme. Whoever decorated it had some serious issues with color.

“Come on, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, seemingly from far away. “I know you can hear me. It’s time to wake up.”

Sunstreaker had to shutter his optics several times to get them to focus, details slow to sharpen as a heavy fog lifted from his senses.  He turned his head to the left but there was no Sideswipe.

Just a huge monitor beeping a steady line.

Wincing with the effort to move his stiff and sore body, Sunstreaker turned to the right, and found another bank of monitors, these colorful and blinking and showing questionable vitals.

But still no Sideswipe.

Frowning, Sunstreaker tried to lift his head to stare at his feet, but a sharp pain in his neck prevented him from moving too far. A monitor beeped in warning with the motion.  It took a few attempts but Sunstreaker was able to lull his head to the right and see past his body.

Still no Sideswipe.

And wait…why was he... white?

Primus! He was a ghost!

A rising tide of fear threaten to pull him back under. If he couldn’t see his brother, and his brother couldn’t see his wakeful state, and his plating was now white instead of gold, surely he had perished in the explosion?

“Come on, Bro,” Sideswipe said, sounding desperate.

Sunstreaker frowned, opening his mouth to answer but then realized, if he was a ghost, his twin couldn’t hear him anyway. Of course, Sideswipe couldn’t see him, which was probably why Sunstreaker couldn’t find him either.

They were now of two different planes. Sunstreaker could hear the gurgle in his vocalizer as it spat static in answer to his brother’s pleas.

He really didn’t expect it to work.

He just needed to tell his brother he was sorry. He knew Sideswipe couldn’t hear him but the words still needed to be said.

Sunstreaker knew he wasn’t the easiest mech to live with.  No wonder Sideswipe acted up like he did.   Sometimes, he was just lonesome. Sunstreaker wanted his twin to know that he was sorry for not being a better brother.  That he was sorry for leaving and for the pain Sideswipe was enduring with his loss.

In a last ditch effort to say goodbye, he sent a thrum of affection through the bond, hoping to relay all the regret and love he could. It was a shame they were now separated.

 Sunstreaker never thought the day would come.

It wasn’t fair.

Sunstreaker felt betrayed. He should have terminated on the battlefield. Not due to one of Wheeljack’s errant experiments. There was no honor in that.  No glory. No sacrifice to save comrades or his brother.

Merely an unstable mech who played with unstable chemicals and another unstable mech that was the unfortunate recipient of said reactions.

Sunstreaker couldn’t believe he clocked out thanks to Wheeljack. He should haunt that mech and teach him a lesson. He was a menace. Sunstreaker always said so.

“Come on, Sunny,” Sideswipe repeated. His voice seemed closer now, as if the veil separating them was thinning to allow one last conversation. “It’s time to wake up, Bro.”

Sunstreaker felt a dull ebb in his chest, knowing it was his spark saying one final farewell. With a heavy conscious, Sunstreaker opened his mouth again and was able to push away the static to speak, though he was certain Sideswipe could not hear his phantom pleas.

“I’m sorry, Sides. Forgive me, Bro.”

He knew Sideswipe would appreciate the nickname. He was always using such terms, no matter if it annoyed the subject or not.

Suddenly there was a medical ghost hovering over Sunstreaker’s form. He could see Ratchet staring down at him, concerned. Oh, he would have loved to have enough energy to tell the medic how much he appreciated the artful patch jobs, and beautiful symmetry he graced his patients with. If only he wasn’t fading so fast.

“It’s okay, just relax,” Ratchet said, looking between the monitors and Sunstreaker.  “You’re safe and stable. Just, relax and allow yourself to heal.”

“You can see me?” Sunstreaker asked with static filling his vocalizer. His spark skipped happily at the thought of not being dead.

“Yes, I can see you,” Ratchet said, narrowing is optics while he pulled out a  portable scanner and ran it over Sunstreaker’s helm.

“I’m…. not a ghost?”  Sunstreaker asked, fearful to hear the answer but something told him he was still in the land of the living.

“No, not a ghost,” Ratchet said, eying the readouts. He appeared more worried than usual when dealing with his favorite friendly enemy.  “How’re you feeling?”

Sunstreaker frowned, staring at Ratchet with an undeterred gaze.  He didn’t like Ratchet’s expression as he looked at the portable monitor.  He made to grab the scanner to look at the screen and see the results that troubled the medic, but he pulled up short.

His hands!

They weren’t the long, tapered fingers, riddled with scars and buffed to an indecent shine. His fingers were shorter, blunted, dented, scratched, and his arm was plated in white.

Ratchet put down the scanner and grasped Sunstreaker’s chin, turning his head so he could look into his optics.

“How are you feeling, Red?”

Sunstreaker frowned.

Ratchet didn’t look like he was playing a prank. It wasn’t in his nature.

Primus!  It couldn’t be!

Fearfully he reached up, moving Ratchet’s hands so he could examine his helm. Much to his terror, there were no helm fins.

But there were audial horns.

“Slag!” Sunstreaker swore, looking up into Ratchet’s face. Ratchet frowned. “Ratchet you aren’t going to believe this, but I’m Sunstreaker.”

“You suffered a sonic concussion,” Ratchet said slowly. “It has destabilized your systems. You are not Sunstreaker. You are Red Alert, head of security.”

“I slagging know who I am!” Sunstreaker snapped. Suddenly there was a blooming pain in his processor and his audios filled with sizzling static.

“Try not to excite yourself, Red,” Ratchet said gently. The tenderness in his optics didn’t suit him.

“Sideswipe?!” Sunstreaker yelled. His voice was stronger now that his anger was building and throwing off the lethargy.  “Where are you?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sideswipe yelled back, somewhere out of range of Sunstreaker's vision.

“Red, don’t excite yourself,” Ratchet warned, which only made Sunstreaker angrier.

“Slag it, Ratchet! I’m not Red Alert!  I’m Sunstreaker!”

“Bullshit,” came Sideswipe’s voice. Within a few seconds he was standing beside of Ratchet, gazing down at his brother.

Sunstreaker struggled to pull himself upright, wincing and grunting. Ratchet tried to get the Lambo to lie back down and allow his body to heal before he damaged himself, but Sunstreaker was beyond caring.

Something was slagged up and he wanted answers.

When he was completely upright he let out a gasp. His golden form lay two berths down on the opposite side.  The monitors showed his frame still functioned, so why wasn’t he IN it?

 There was only one way to cut to the chase and alert the other two to the situation without them thinking he was crazy or lying.

“Last week you traced your servo on a canvas I was prepping for the art show in Portland,“ Sunstreaker said, looking his brother in the optics. “You made it look like a turkey and painted it white and purple and called it Cluck-a-tron.”

Sideswipe’s optics narrowed. It had only been he and Sunstreaker in the studio that day. It was a good day. Sunstreaker let him paint with him and didn’t try to rearrange his transformation seams.

“How would you know that? Do you have cameras set up in the studio?”

“No,” Sunstreaker said frustrated, looking down and finding the white frame instead of his normal golden tones. Primus, it was a drab color. “I am Sunstreaker. Whatever blew up, must have switched me and Red Alert. I’m in his body.” He pulled a face of disgust, “And believe me, it’s dull, bland, and wholly unkempt in here.”

Sideswipe’s optics narrowed. “Sunny?”

“You sure that’s your brother?” Ratchet asked skeptically. Wouldn’t be the first time the twins tried to prank him. If he fell for it again, exhausts would be mutilated with the jaws of life.

Sunstreaker frowned, knowing the two weren’t believing him, though Sideswipe looked on the fence.

“When we were younglings, you once endured a beating by the Pit Master because you lubricated on a client.”

Sideswipe’s optics went wide. “Sunny!”

“Yes,” Sunstreaker, stuck in Red Alert’s body, nodded emphatically. “We’ve been switched!”

“Slag,” Sideswipe sighed.

“Wait, you are Sunstreaker?” Ratchet asked, hoping against hope he didn’t have another medical miracle he had to pull off. With the twins, his magic acts were getting more and more complicated.

"Yes!" Sunstreaker snarled. A spark erupted from his helm, making him flinch and rub the side of his head.

“Slag,” Ratchet swore, earning twin looks from two Lambos that didn’t normally go together. “If you’re in Red’s body, that means Red is in yours.”

Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. He didn’t like that idea, not one bit. Red Alert was going to scratch him all over and wouldn’t buff his gorgeous body every other hour.

Ratchet went to the inert golden frame and magnetized it to the berth.

“What are you doing?” Sideswipe asked, remembering the code Ratchet imputed for when he pranked someone in med bay later. He’d get the orneriness beat out of him from Ratchet, but it would be hilarious.

“You know Red’s history,” Ratchet said, checking over the vitals being displayed on the overhead monitor. “I need him to remain calm while I explain things, and then I’ll let him up to view his new body.”

“It’s not his new body!” Sunstreaker yelled, trying to get off the berth and feeling the world spin. He grasped the edges to steady himself. “It’s my slagging body and I want it back! It took me millennia to get it looking that way! I’m not having some paranoid nutcase slag it up!”

“Sunny, calm down” Sideswipe said, finding it difficult to look at Red Alert’s features when he spoke his brother’s designation.  “You’re sparking.”

Sunstreaker opened his mouth to snap at his twin, but a sharp pain through his helm halted his verbal tirade. He hissed, clutching his helm. Sparks kissed his fingertips.

Sideswipe felt a slight burning along his circuitry, starting from his errant spark and traveling along his plating.

“Ratchet, how can I still feel Sunny?” he asked, rubbing his chest plates to soothe the burn.

“Wheeljack’s device switched sparks with bodies,” Ratchet said, running a diagnostic on Sunstreaker’s motionless form. Primus, he looked terminated, if he didn’t look so beautifully golden.  “The explosion probably transferred their consciousnesses between the two as well. The spark carries our memories and emotions. It's the part that makes us who we are as individuals.  All of our memories and emotions are stored in the exact same manner, and it is possible, as evidenced here, that the consciousness can be transferred between frames. We do it when we upgrade into our adult frames. We transfer the spark to the new chamber. Though it’s supposed to be impossible after a youngling has had their final upgrade.”

“I don’t want to downgrade,” Sunstreaker spat, glaring at his beautiful body that was now so far away.  Primus, the burning pain was getting worse. His vision was starting to distort. He hissed again, grasping his helm tighter.

“Settle down Sunstreaker,” Ratchet said, going to the now white sociopath and injecting a sedative into his main line. “You’re in Red’s body, and his glitch is still present.”

“Tell me about it,’ Sunstreaker moaned, feeling the pain ease up to a dull throb. Primus, it felt like he had a slow spark ache echoing in his helm. Is this what Red Alert experienced every second of every day? No wonder the mech was a basket case. The pain alone was nauseating.

“Ratchet?” came a feeble, static filled voice from the other side of the ward. Ratchet left his white plated patient to join his golden plated one.

“Red, how are you feeling?” Ratchet asked, keeping the skittish mech calm.  Red Alert was always frantic when coming back to consciousness.

Red opened his vents, pulling in cool air over his systems and exhaling a long breath.

“Feels great, whatever you did," Red said. “No burning. No pain. Everything feels….. “ Red trailed off, his face going slack. “Primus, why can’t I feel the pain and burning? Ratchet, what’s happened?”

“Red, I need you to calm down,” Ratchet said to the naturally panicky mech. It was weird to see Sunstreaker’s golden frame so freaked out.

”One of Wheeljack’s devices exploded,” Ratchet said slowly, hoping Red Alert would understand through his panicking state.

“Did he destroy my body?” Red asked, fearful.

“No.”

Red Alert paused, trying to process what happened. The fact he physically felt fine was unnerving.  There were no warnings along his HUD, which only made him panic worse.

“Red, settle down,” Ratchet snapped, not wanting to upset the golden Lambo.  This was beyond weird. “The device switched your body with Sunstreaker’s. You are now inhabiting his frame and he, yours.”

Red faltered,  optics shuttering a couple of times before narrowing at Ratchet.

“What?”

“The device, it changed the polarity of your bodies, switching your processors and sparks.”

Red Alert frowned, still disbelieving.

Ratchet hit the demagnetizing button and grasped the golden arm, lifting it up where Red Alert could see the color. His optics went wide as he took in the golden frame.

A quick scan of systems showed his memory storage, energy absorption, normal pressure in all lines, fully charged systems, and a processing unit that was faster and higher than what he had thought possible.

Structural and neurological integrity was at one hundred percent. Neural conductivity also was at optimal performance.  Red Alert took another long draught, reveling in the coolness invading the golden body and no red flags appearing in his HUD for compromised filters and glitched systems.

He felt like he was able to stretch, mentally, inside this new body. It was… freeing. This was how he felt he SHOULD be had he not developed the anomalies that plagued his normal frame.

“Don’t get used to it because I’ll be wanting that back,” Sunstreaker yelled from across the ward.

Red Alert slowly lifted himself up on the berth and looked over to see his white plated body glaring back at him. It was very unsettling, but strangely enough, he didn’t feel the full blown desire to scream and panic. It was creepy, but there was no pain or burning of circuits to signal a full blown meltdown. His spark wasn’t frantic and seizing in its chamber.

If anything, it was calm and steady.

Was this what it was like to have a normal processor? Is this what a regular operating system felt like?

Red Alert may be reluctant to part with such a pristine treasure.

“You okay?” Sideswipe asked, watching his brother rub his helm.

“I will be,” Sunstreaker muttered.

Primus, he felt so…. hot and constricted.  Why wasn’t his cache dumping like it should and deleting the unnecessary files? Why wasn’t he able to piece his thoughts together while they ran chaotically through his mind?  It was hard to think when his processor was going in a million different directions and sending his spark into a faster tempo of panic. It was like his processor and spark were competing to see which one would glitch first.

“Aside from the regular glitches, you two aftheads are stable and in good health,” Ratchet said returning to the twins and checking the bioelectrical output from the white Lamborghini.

“Burns,” Sunstreaker muttered when Ratchet popped an access port on the sparking helm and made an adjustment.  Sunstreaker winced and breathed a sigh of relief when the burning sensation lessened. Not by much, but now it was more tolerable.

“Don’t overly stress your processor,” Ratchet warned, looking Sunstreaker in the optic. “Red’s frame is riddled with glitches, and if you try to exert yourself, you’ll cause his systems to fail.”

Sunstreaker glanced to his golden body and saw the devastated look on his own face.

Primus, this was beyond weird.

“How long until you can fix this?” Sunstreaker asked.

“Wheeljack is already running diagnostics through the main scanner and looking for the blueprints that have went missing since the relocation,” Ratchet explained, closing the port.

“You sure he even had blueprints?”  Sunstreaker asked, rubbing the plating above his spark chamber.

“He says there is, so he better produce some sort of schematics or he’s going to find a screwdriver shoved in a very uncomfortable place.”

“Am I free to go?” Red Alert asked. It was odd seeing Sunstreaker’s powerful frame looking so timid.

“Yes,” Ratchet said, waving toward the door. “Both of you are on restricted duty until this has been resolved. Neither is to do things that they know the other would not appreciate. If you do something to mangle your frames, I will bang out the dents in an extremely violent manner.  Am I understood?”

Both Lambos nodded.

“I’ve already alerted the others about this condition,” Ratchet said, still hearing Jazz and Ironhide laugh their axels off over the comm. freq.  They were enjoying this little tragic disposition.

“I have duties to attend,” Red Alert said, walking from the medbay pain free and unfazed by paranoia and worry for the first time in his adult life.

He entered his security station and found the monitoring duty to be a breeze, his processor not struggling with the constant desire to check for faults and see enemy incursions at every turn. He smiled at the screens and drank some energon that had been left for him by Inferno.

Unfortunately, Sunstreaker wasn’t fairing as well in Red Alert’s body.  He headed to the rec room to refuel, his systems blinking a constant veil like human blood.  He was getting tired of seeing the infra red end of the spectrum.

When he got to the dispenser he paused, staring, suddenly imagining it to be laced with poison. His spark pulsed, agreeing with the assessment.

“What’s causing your flips?” Sideswipe asked from behind him.

Sunstreaker turned and found his brother rubbing his chest directly over his spark chamber.

“What’s wrong?” Sunstreaker asked, fearing the worst. “Are you having a spark attack? Are you picking up on the glitch from this frame?”

“Shut up,” Sideswipe snapped, annoyed. “You sound as paranoid as Red!”

“Sorry,” Sunstreaker muttered, which was so unlike himself.

Apparently his body wasn’t the only thing that was changed. His thought processes and emotional center were off the chart. This is the type of sensation he had when he drank too much high grade and touched high voltage wires.

Is this how Red functioned? With his circuits this scrambled?

The burning came back in a powerful wave, making Sunstreaker wince and teeter. Sideswipe caught him before he could collapse and steered him to a chair.  Sunstreaker sat down heavily feeling as if his helm was about to explode.

Primus, there was so much running through his head. It was so jumbled and erratic.

And why wouldn’t his spark stop skipping like that?  Like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest.  He vaguely wondered if it was possible to ding the inside of a spark chamber with the flickering of a spark.

A half cube was placed in his hand by his brother, who helped him tip the contents down his throat. His analyzers sputtered, circuits stalling out like they had been shorted before they hummed in appreciation. The error messages reduced by half. Sunstreaker sagged in the chair, resembling a balloon losing air.

“Sunstreaker, are you okay? Do you need Ratchet?” Bluestreak asked. He had thought it cruel everyone was laughing at the unfortunate turn of events. He couldn't find anything comical with the situation and shuddered to think if he had switched bodies with someone else.

Primus, that would be embarrassing. .. and more than a little awkward.

“I’ll be fine,” Sunstreaker muttered, keeping his optics closed and rubbing his temples . “Just low systems and needed a boost.”

Bluestreak sat down on Sunstreaker’s opposite side, his doorwings fanning wide, sensing the erratic spark pulse emanating from the white frame.

Sideswipe groaned, shoulders slumping.

“Bro, I have to go,” he said, hearing Prowl cackle over the comms about missed duties and negligence.  “Prowl’s demanding my skid plates unless I go with Tracks on patrol this evening.”

“It’s okay. I can stay with him,” Bluestreak said,  smiling at Sunstreaker though the white mech was still distracted by the throbbing in his helm. “Maybe I can help him polish up. That always makes him feel better.”

"I need to lie down," Sunstreaker muttered.

Bluestreak immediately grasped the disembodied frontliner and helped him to his pedes.

“Primus,” Sideswipe groaned, face twisting into a look of revulsion. “You have to charge with me tonight. Oh, this is going to be weird and disgusting.”

“It’s a barrel of laughs from my perspective,” Sunstreaker groused, finding the flipping in his spark chamber to be a real nuisance.  Primus, his spark wasn’t this bad since when he and Sideswipe were younglings, and needed merges to stabilize their lives.

Now?

Well, it would be sickening if they had to merge to stabilize. Sunstreaker wasn't sure he could endure such a thing. It was gross, creepy, and wholly unacceptable.

 Sideswipe didn’t appear to be to be suffering from the anomaly, but it was only a matter of time before he went out of sync.

“Mech’s are going to talk,” Sideswipe said, grinning at his brother who didn’t see the humor in the situation.

“Who cares?” Sunstreaker muttered. He groaned, doubling over and clutching his midsection. He felt like he was going to purge. “I need to lie down.”

“I’ll help him,” Bluestreak said, latching onto Sunstreaker’s borrowed frame to help steady him.

A spark erupted from Sunstreaker’s helm, the burning seeping back into his consciousness again.  Perhaps if he charged he’d feel better?

“I’ll see you later tonight," Sideswipe said, sending an answer to Prowl so the mech would stop griping like a PMS’ing harpy over the comms.

Bluestreak helped steady Sunstreaker to the room he shared with his twin.  Normally Sunstreaker would shy away from tactile contact, but he didn’t mind the assistance as his perception had him rocking back and forth like a teeter totter.

“You get some rest. I’ll buff you up," Bluestreak said, going to the shelf that held Sunstreaker’s detailing supplies. When he turned back, Sunstreaker was already charging.

Sideswipe kept a constant check on his twin via comms, Bluestreak supplying a steady stream of updates. The patrol route took half the time as Sideswipe hit the triple digits. He knew he would receive speeding tickets from traffic cameras, but he didn't care. Prowl could kiss his aft. His brother was more important than trolling streets looking for possible Decepticons.

An hour later, Sideswipe plodded down the hall to his quarters. The last leg of the patrol route had been tedious, Tracks providing a constant commentary on the corrosive nature of the organic world as rain turned silt into a gritty sludge.  Tracks wisely kept his vocalizer off about Sunstreaker’s predicament, lest his patrol partner run him into a guardrail.

When Sideswipe entered his quarters it was to find Bluestreak diligently buffing the white plating.

“How’s he doing?” he asked quietly, looking at the calm face that was not his twin.

It felt so surreal to be addressing Red Alert’s body. He was used it to shouting and accusing him of things.  He had felt some twinges of pain over the bond he share with his twin, but  it had lessened. Now he had a low thrum that felt like a giant bass was playing a single note along his spark casing.

“He‘s been charging since you left,’ Bluestreak said, finishing up his polishing job and placing Sunstreaker’s supplies back in their proper place. “I’ve got him as shiny and flawless as I can. You’ll have to do his back though. I couldn’t get him to turn over.”

Sideswipe nodded, his optics tired. “Thanks, Blue.”

“No problem,” Bluestreak chirped, doorwings fluttering. “I’m down the hall if you need me.”

Sideswipe nodded and shut the door behind Bluestreak and turned to look at the inert white frame.

Primus, it was slagging weird to see Red Alert’s body on Sunstreaker’s berth.

Correction.

It was a nightmare.

Hoping to wake up tomorrow and find the whole thing had been a dream, Sideswipe curled up on his berth and was sound asleep within seconds, his hand resting over his spark chamber.

o-o

-o-o


Akihito hadn't been awake five minutes before he began ranting.  He'd already spent one fretful night at the hospital in Bali, hopped up on pain killers and antibiotics for his infected broken legs, feverishly tossing and babbling gibberish.

Asami hadn't left his room.  The crime lord had slept in a reclining chair he'd had brought in and set next to the bed.   Kei had brought him breakfast and kept him apprised of business matters.  The jet was en-route to Bali with Aki's parents on board.

Asami had just finished shaving in the bathroom off Akihito's room when he heard the young man crying.

"Asami...."

Asami was there, bedside, in his white shirt (albeit unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up) and slacks, his face still damp.

"I'm here, Kitten," the crime lord said, taking his lover's hand.

Aki focused distressed hazel eyes on Asami.  "You must protect Suardika!"  He pulled his hand away and began tossing and making sounds as if he were uncomfortable.

"She saved my life!" Aki declared, his voice hoarse and cracking.  He was no longer feverish, but all the medications in his system were making him loopy, nauseous, and irritable; he felt like shit.  "I would've died from that, that fish sting without her.  She took care of me.  She protected me.  The dream travel.  That was all her.  You have to save her from the Russians and Sudou."

 Asami leaned forward in the chair.  "Sudou was on the island?"

"Uh huh."  Aki nodded.  Asami urged him to take a sip of protein shake.  Aki wrapped his balm-coated lips around the straw and sucked slowly.  He lay back on the pillow.

"Sudou ambushed me on the beach and held a knife to my throat.  He was going to kill me, but I escaped.  He's the reason the cannibals got me.  He chased me into them."

"He must've come with Mikhail," Asami mused.

"You must save Suardika!" Aki wailed.  "She's there with Sudou and the Russians!  What if they capture her to get to me?  They might torture or kill her!"

Akihito began sobbing and hyperventilating, jerking his head from side to side, clutching and unclutching the sheet, and arching his back.  He was on the verge of hysteria.  "You must rescue her, Asami!  Please!"

Asami rose from the chair and leaned over Akihito.  "Calm down, Kitten," he said, stroking the boy's hair off his sweaty forehead.  "I will take care of it, but you must relax first."  Akihito grabbed Asami's wrist and looked at him imploringly.

"Kei," Asami called, and his secretary entered the room.  Asami squeezed Aki's hand and lay it on his chest.  "Stay with Akihito.  I must speak with Suoh."

"Yes, Asami-sama."  Kei slid into the chair.

"Make him finish that shake," Asami said as he left the room.

***

Akihito!" screamed Mrs. Takaba when she entered the hospital room later that day.  The nurse had just left from helping Akihito sponge-bathe and put on a fresh gown.

"Momma!" Aki shrieked.  "Dad!"

Both Takabas flew to opposite sides of the bed and threw themselves onto their son.  "Akihito," Mrs. Takaba sobbed.  She kissed the young man's face frantically and held it in her hands.  Hazel eyes met hazel eyes.

"Momma," Aki sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks.  He buried his face in her shoulder and cried.

Mr. Takaba had his forehead pressed against Akihito's other shoulder.  He made no sound, but his body shook with emotion.  Akihito put his arm around the man and kissed the top of his head.  "Daddy," he croaked, and Mr. Takaba raised his face to gaze at his boy.  His eyes, full of love, were wet with tears.  "My son," the man whispered, nodding.  "My son."

Asami stood in the doorway watching this.  He was--as usual--calm and collected, his face revealing nothing, but inside, he felt awkward, as if he shouldn't be there, as if this family reunion were too personal for him, an outsider, to be witnessing.  He was touched, though he would never admit it, even to himself.

Mrs. Takaba turned her emotion-filled face to look over at him.  Her hazel eyes shined with gratitude.

"Asami-san, how can we thank you?" she said in a voice barely above a whisper.  "How can we ever repay you for bringing our son back to us?"

"That is unnecessary, Takaba-san," the crime lord replied.  "He was returned to me, as well."

Mrs. Takaba extended an arm out to Asami, and he realized that she meant to include him in this family lovefest.  Asami shook his head slightly and motioned with his hand dismissively.  "I do not wish to intrude."

Mrs. Takaba was having none of it.  Her hazel eyes flashed stubbornly, just as Akihito's so often did.  She nodded and gestured with her arm slightly.  Clearing his throat, Asami approached the bed and stiffly leaned into the group hug.  Mrs. Asami slid her arm around his waist and pulled him in closer.  Akihito--an arm around each parent--looked up at Asami with an expression of raw joy.  He began crying again, and his mother withdrew her arm from around the crime lord to hold her baby, and kiss and stroke his hair.

***

Akihito's lower legs were in casts, which were suspended in slings just above the bed to keep the blood from pooling in them.  The rest of him was covered with a sheet.  There was also a light blanket, for if he got cold.  After the Takabas left for the luxury resort Asami had booked them into, the crime lord approached the bed, folded his arms, and eyed his lover.

Akihito knew that look.  "The doctor wants me to rest, you horny bastard.  That means all of me."

"He also said your breaks were clean, and the bones hadn't shifted," said Asami.  "You should heal well, with no residual effects."

"And to heal, I need to rest," said the blond.  He grinned and stretched his arms out over his head, closing his eyes and arching his back.  "Aaaaaaah...."

"Don't tease me, Kitten," Asami murmured in a low voice smooth as wine.

"I'm not teasing you, I'm stretching, is that all right?" Akihito said.

 Asami moved to the door, closed it, and turned the lock.  A thrill of excitement made Akihito shiver.

"I'll ring the nurse," he threatened.

Asami took the controller from his kitten and dropped it off the bed.  Then he carefully grabbed the blond's wrists and looked at him with eyes that glowed like molten gold.

"My IV!" Akihito exclaimed.  "You're going to pull it out!"

"No, I'm not," Asami said calmly, his eyes not leaving Akihito's.  "Stop struggling, and it will be fine."

Akihito grew still and stared back at the smug but handsome face above his.   He felt himself growing hard.

"I'll start yelling," Akihito said.

"I'm counting on it," Asami purred, as he moved along the blond's neck, licking a stripe from his shoulder up to and around his ear.  Aki moaned, and Asami chuckled.  He took the boy's ear lobe between his teeth and gently tugged, making a growling noise deep in his throat.  The resulting vibration only added to the sensation, and Akihito trembled and whimpered.

Asami slid Akihito's gown down off his shoulders and began tasting the smooth, tawny skin and peppering it with kisses.  He ran his hands along the boy's lean body.  "I've so missed this," the crime lord said in a thick voice.  He moaned softly, took one of Akihito's nipples between his lips, and laved it gently with his tongue.  Akihito gasped and clenched his hands into fists.  Still holding Akihito's wrists, the crime lord engulfed the boy's mouth with his own and kissed him urgently and deeply.  Akihito's loins ached with need, and he now had a full-on erection.  The many months without Asami's lovemaking had finally caught up with him.

"Put it inside me, Ryuichi," Aki breathed, and the crime lord released the boy's wrists and moved to the foot of the bed, discarding his shirt and belt in the process.  He gracefully climbed onto the bed, unzipping his fly and lowering his slacks with one hand, while he deftly navigated the narrow space between Aki's suspended legs.  He was truly like a panther descending upon its prey, his eyes on fire since the mention of his first name, and his massive hard-on bouncing free of his briefs.

Aki saw all this and groaned with desire, his balls throbbing and his prick leaking and making a wet spot on the gown.  Asami saw the spot and chuckled.  "So eager for me, Kitten.  You will need a new gown after I am through."  The crime lord slid the gown up off the boy's hips, devouring the needy sight before him with hungry eyes.

"Hurry uuup," Akihito whined, grimacing.  He rolled his hips and whined again, his eyes so full of want.

"No foreplay, my kitten?" Asami said.  He was enjoying this.  He lowered himself between the boy's legs, kissed the tender skin of his inner thighs, and teased his cock and balls with his tongue.

"Nooo," Akihito whined, louder this time.  "Fuck me, 'Sami.  I need you to fuck me!"

Asami parted Aki's ass cheeks, and seconds later, Aki felt himself being invaded by Asami's strong, long, hot tongue.  It traced circles around his opening and then pushed its way past the ring of muscle, deep inside.  The blond yelped and bore down, wanting more.  He began trying to thrust down harder on the tongue, but his legs in the slings were preventing him.  He shook the slings in frustration, the metal parts making a terrible clanking noise, and huffed in frustration.

Akihito could feel Asami laughing, the breaths against his ass crack, the slight shaking, as the crime lord continued to play his boy's hole with his wicked tongue.

"Your cock, Asami," whined Akihito.  "I need your cock."

Asami rose to his knees and slid a pillow beneath Akihito's ass.  He whipped out a packet of hospital petroleum jelly from his pocket and smeared it on his fingers.  He slid a single finger into Akihito's loosened hole, and felt the young man bear down upon it and moan.  He added a second finger and moved them in and out, curling them against Aki's prostate in the process.  Akihito was bucking his hips and whining with furious need now.

"Fuck me, fuck me," he repeated.  Asami smeared the rest of the jelly onto his massive prick, positioned it at Akihito's entrance, and pushed halfway in.  Akihito groaned with pleasure at the sudden fullness.  Even the sting of the stretch was good.

"You are hot as a volcano, my Akihito," the crime lord said, closing his eyes as he savored the exquisite feeling of being inside Aki, "and tight as a glove.  Are you trying to suck me inside of you?"  Asami held the young man's hips with his strong hands and sank himself all the way in.  Aki could feel Asami's balls and public hair against his ass.  Akihito arched his back and white-knuckled the sheets.  "Yeeees, 'Sami," he whispered, his eyes closed.  "Yeeees."

Asami pulled back, almost all the way out, and then thrust back in, angling himself to hit the boy's prostate.  "Ah, god, Asami!" Akihito yelled.  "Nnnnnghaaaaa!"

"I am God," the crime lord murmured, "and you are mine, once again."

"I, I am yours, Ryuichi," the blond moaned, helplessly undone.  With half-closed eyes, he eyed the large man looking down at him.

Asami took Akihito's weeping erection in hand and began stroking and pumping in earnest now.  There was just the sound of grunting and slapping flesh, as Asami plowed into his smaller lover over and over, hitting his prostate with each stroke.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" Akihito gasped, as Asami slammed into him relentlessly.  He was gripping and releasing the sheets frantically, thrashing his head from side to side as he neared climax.  "'Sami, 'Sami, aaaaaah, 'Sami!"  Akihito rocked his hips to meet the thrusts as best he could, and then he exploded in climax, shooting strings of cum all over Asami's hand and chest.  Asami continued to pump as Akihito rode out his waves of orgasm.

Then, the crime lord dropped onto his elbows over the lean blond, supporting his own weight with his massive biceps.  The traction equipment above creaked as Akihito's thighs spread to accommodate him.  Asami took Akihito's mouth in another deep, demanding kiss and began pumping once again, his breath coming faster as he neared climax.  Akihito ran one hand up Asami's back and buried the other in his thick, black hair, tugging gently and then pushing him in for another deep kiss.  That was all it took, and Asami came, moaning long and low, and filling Akihito's ass with hot cum.  Aki could feel the massive cock convulsing inside of him as Asami's orgasm rumbled through them both like an earthquake.  There was so much cum, Aki could feel it overflowing, running down his crack to his back.

Asami dropped his head onto the blond's shoulder, still supporting his weight with his arms.  He breathed in deeply, then pulled out of Akihito and rose to a sitting position.  He wiped his prick with Akihito's ruined gown and then shoved it back into his slacks.  He sat on the bed with his long legs bent up and his arms resting on them.  He surveyed his wrecked lover: legs in traction, Asami's cum dripping from his ass, and his stomach covered with his own jism.

"I like you in this position," the crime lord said.  "Perhaps I will add a similarly equipped hospital bed to the private room.  We can play 'doctor.'  I can take your temperature and examine your prostate."

Flustered, Akihito attempted to clean and then cover himself with the ruined hospital gown.  "I see nothing changed while I was gone," he huffed, trying to play off his embarrassment.  His cheeks were hot, and he knew they were likely bright red.  "You're still the same old perverted yakuza bastard."

At this, Asami laughed loudly and smiled--a rare actual smile--that revealed perfect teeth and made Akihito want to go another round with him then and there.

***

Dawn was breaking the next morning when Suoh and his men arrived back at the island.  Docking the speedboat on the west side, they once again took the two smaller boats ashore.  They were quiet and focused; they had their orders.

They made their way to the steep hill where Suardika reportedly had her hut.  They climbed it and found what appeared to be flag pole, but nothing else.

"Suardika," Suoh called.  "We are friends of Akihito."  There was no response.  "Akihito sent us, Suardika.  He is worried about you."  Still no reply, and no sound of any creatures, except for birds.  The team continued to scour the hill and the surrounding jungle for most of the day.

"This entire area appears to be uninhabited, Suoh-sama," one of the men finally said.  "It doesn't look as though anyone has ever lived here."

"I agree," said Suoh.  "Radio the other men, and let's get back to boat."

Back on the speedboat, Suoh called Asami.

"We didn't find the woman, Asami-sama," Suoh said, "and we didn't see any animals, including monkeys."

"Did you find the hut?" the crime lord asked.

"No.  No hut, no garden.  We did find what appeared to be a flag pole, but that's it."

"The camp was destroyed, perhaps?" Asami mused.

"That's just it, Asami-sama.  Except for the pole, there's no sign that anyone was ever there.  The overgrowth is many years' old, not recent.  My men and I had to chop through thick vines just to climb the hill.

"Hmmm...."

"The other thing, boss.  We were exactly where the circle of fire was--I double-checked our coordinates--but there's no sign of any burn.  No charred treetops or wood, no ash, nothing."

"Pictures?"

"Sending them now, boss."

 ***

As the sun set, Suoh and his men changed into their night gear.  The speedboat made its way along the southern coast of the island in stealth mode, to the east side.  It docked outside the same cove as before.  Five men, led by Souh, took a single small boat to the shore.  From there they made their way through the dark jungle.

The hypnotic drumbeat and monotone humming grew louder as they neared the cannibal camp.  From a distance, Suoh scanned the men surrounding the huge campfire, and the ones dancing, as well.  He used binoculars, as he was looking for very specific features and attire.  The head dress, especially, had to match.  Beside Suoh, one of his men held a perfectly calibrated high-powered rifle equipped with a silencer.

Finding a match, Suoh took the rifle, set the scope on the target, and pulled the trigger.

One of the tribesmen fell backwards from where he'd been standing and chanting.  The drums and humming suddenly stopped, and chaos broke out as the other men rushed over to see what'd happened.

The man lay staring up blankly with a hole in the center of his forehead.  A pool of blood was growing beneath his head.  The tribesmen grew silent as they stared at him.  They looked at each other and then at the trees and sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the spirit who had struck their chief dead....


THREE - CATRA

I glared at my laptop screen as I finalized yet another application. With the Fright Zone currently out of commission I needed a job until it reopened. It wasnt too pressing. Owning a house while getting rent from two others insured that bills would be handled, but play money people, play money. Plus ive been eyeing a really nice cat tower, and Ill be damned if I dont have it.

Scorpia gave a big sigh as she typed away on her phone. Not a usual response from her when shes chatting away with someone.

Do I ask? Do I not?

I didn't have to decide as Scorpia started to explain, “Perfuma was put on the schedule this weekend.” ‘This weekend’ meaning tomorrow.

I raised an eyebrow, “Isnt she usually on weekend shift anyways?”

She nodded as she slumped further into the couch. Ok, so she was bummed bummed.

“Yah, but she requested it off for the Mystacor trip. But someone got sick or something.”

Right, the trip that I have only heard about fifteen-thousand times. Apparently Sparkles has some aunt who runs the luxury place. Its some sort of resort or something. They were all visiting for a mini vaca, but it was really some family bonding time for the Moons in their new addition. Adora was a part of this little trip and had already invited me along. The cons list of Sparkles family had actually won out over hot-dorky-blonde this time around. No way in hell was I going to spend my weekend battling glitter and dorks for some peace and quiet. Regardless of how nice the place had looked when I totally didnt google it.

“Thats rough, bud.” I said as I returned my gaze to my screen.

Scorpia shot up in her seat before turning fully to me, “You have it off! Come with me! It's already paid for and everything!”

I groaned. How did I not see this coming?

“No.” I deadpanned

She didnt even flinch, rude, “Oh come on, itll be fun!” She leaned a little closer, “Theres a spa. And you wouldnt have to hang with us the whole time. You could go off and do your own thing. I know crowds isnt really your style.”

I could go off on my own? There indeed was a nice looking spa in those photos I didnt look up. All paid? Chances to annoy sparkles? All paid?

The pros list was looking a little more hefty now. But was it worth it? How much ‘group time’ would I be expected to put up with?

I didnt even look up from my screen, “No.”

A weekend at home sounded just as nice.

Scorpia sighed dramatically before resting back into her seat, but I could see her grin radiating from here as she typed away on her phone. What was she so giddy about?

A few moments passed and it didnt escape my notice that Scorpia was pointedly not looking at me as my phone went off.

I dont know what she did but I had a gut feeling she deserved the glare I sent her way as she ‘inconspicuously’ whistled and really enjoyed scrutinizing the thread on her shirt.

Glancing down at my phone confirmed my suspicions. She really really deserved that glare.

Adorka
: Hey! Scorpia said you needed some convincing to come along.

Adorka
: This is me convincing you

Adorka
: -Photo-

I rolled my eyes at the selfie she sent. It was a top notch puppy dog pout that certainly didnt hold as much power over the phone as Im sure it would in person. Not at all.

Though it did help that she seemed to be in some gym, glazed with sweat and a few strands of hair sticking to her face.

“Dirty move, Scorp. Didnt know you had it in you.”

She beamed, “From you, thats a compliment.”

I rolled my eyes as I glanced back down at my phone. It had taken the dork a few days to actually follow me on socials, I had almost caved and followed first but wheres the fun in that? Letting Adora chase a bit was far more fun. I was a bit shocked that at the end of sparkles party she had asked for my number. Pretty suave too despite her being a bumbling mess most of the night. I chalked it up to liquid courage and well placed flirting on my part.

“Still not going.” I said as I responded to Adora. Which of course resulted in Scorpia typing away at her phone, do doubt to the same dork I was messaging.

Nice try, dummy. Not happening. :
Catra

Adorka
: But it would be nice seeing you again.

Adorka
: Oh, Scorpia just said you dont do group stuff.

Adorka
: Thats fine. You dont have to mingle with us.

Adorka
: We could go do stuff together if that makes you feel more comfortable.

‘Stuff’? What are you hinting at here? :
Catra

Adorka
: Come along and find out ;)

I rolled my eyes, fucking nerd. There was no way in hell I was giving up my weekend to Sparkles and co.

No way.

Not happening.

Even if a hot blonde is doing a poor attempt to flirt. Which would be fun to fluster her in person, but still.

Scorpia was watching me now, her own puppy dog pout in effect.

I raised an eyebrow at her, “You really think it would be wise to leave Entrapta all by herself here? Alone? To do who knows what the place?”

She shrugged, “I trust her not to do anything too wild.”

Misplaced trust. Nice. Makes sense.

My phone went off again, I expected another message from Adora but was shocked to find one from Glimmer instead.

Sparkles
: A favor was called, you're invited. Don't make me regret this.

Adora or Scorp? :
Catra

Sparkles
: Use a brain cell and figure it out.

Really making me feel welcomed here. :
Catra

Sparkles
: If I have to watch her mope around this weekend because you're not here, Ill personally shave you bald.

Does that include wax and shine? :
Catra

I didnt get a response after the read receipt popped up. Guess not.

Blissfully Scorpia dropped it and resumed playing around on her phone.

Or at least I thought she had. I was halfway through another application when a knock sounded at the door.

Scorpia jumped up calling over her shoulder, “I got it!”

I had a bad feeling about this. One, Scorpia doesnt invite people over without plenty of warning to me so I know to avoid all contact. Two, it was just a bad feeling.

Time to dip.

I shut my laptop and was nearly out of my seat when my bad feeling was proved true.

Adora and Scorpia came back in wearing matching grins. Dorks.

Yah, definitely time to leave.

Adora smirked at me as I brushed past the duo. My room was the only one down this hall, so there was absolutely no reason why either of them followed.

Adora didnt hesitate at my door like Scopria did, who was well aware

no one

 came into my room uninvited.

Scorp decided leaning against the door frame was risky enough while Adora just spun around like an idiot as she took in the space, seemingly unaware of my glare.

My room wasnt anything special, if anything it was pretty bare outside of the small desk littered with sketches and my bed. My closet was a whole different story. If she opened the door she would see a heap of clothes on the bottom, and hangers stuffed to the brim.

I sat at my desk watching her take too damn long looking before she finally turned to smile at me, hands on hips, “So, do you have a bag?”

I raised my eyebrow at that, “For?”

“Packing. If not thats fine. I brought one just in case.”

My glare intensified, though I couldnt deny the little flutter in my chest. Here was this idiot who hardly knew me, making it very clear she wanted me to come along. Wanted to spend time with. So much so she was pulling out every annoying card she had.

She shrugged when I didnt answer and turned to leave. I was hoping that was a sign of defeat but I was once again wrong as she quickly returned with a duffel bag.

She tossed it onto my bed before giving me that shit eating grin, “I can help you pack.”

Scorpia was beaming behind her but I could see the panic in her eyes. Adora had no idea how many dangerous buttons she was pushing. Hell at this point if anyone else had tried they would have been mauled and turned into cat food for Melog.

Who chose this time to make an appearance.

He jumped up on the bed to sniff the bag before rubbing his face on it.

Adora did the cutest little noise as she crouched and offered her hand to the feline. Who, as a traitor, sniffed and once again rubbed his face against the new thing in the room. Which was just downright weird. Melog wasn't a violent cat by any means but he didn't just warm up to people and start scent marking them within seconds. He was usually more of a glare and avoid at all costs type. Unless he was hungry. There was no way of ignoring Melog when he got hungry.

Though it was an adorable sight to see Adora just faun over Melog.

At this point Scorpia was nervously rocking in the doorway but doing her best not to all out flee from the oncoming shit storm she expected me to unleash.

Imagine her shock when I only groaned and slipped over to the closet, exposing the only place I allow to be cluttered.

I could see Adora doing a dorky fist pump in the air as she unzipped the bag.

I was halfway through shoving random clothes into the offered bag, half listening to whatever Adora and Scorpia (Who still stood at the door) were going on about, when Entrapta appeared behind Scorpias bulk.

“Oh, Adora.”

Adora perked up, “Entrapta?”

Now imagine my shock when Entrpta accepted a fist bump from the tall woman. Entrapta doest

do

 touch. Adora must have known this as she didnt actually close the contact, instead waiting for Entrapta to do so. Which she did. Did I mention she doesnt do that? With

anyone.

“Uh, you two know each other?” I asked

Entrapta nodded as Adora moved to sit back in the desk chair, “We all went to high school together.”

Entrapta and I went to high school together. Seriously, how the hell have I not run into the blonde jock before now?

Adora smiled at her seemingly long lost friend, “Entrapta used to work the scoreboard for Horde games.”

Ok, there was no way I havent run into this idiot before. Scorpia used to play football for Horde High.

“Adora was on the baseball team. Captain if I remember correctly.” Scorpia supplied, as if reading my thoughts. That would explain why I never saw her at Scorpia’s practices.

Adora nodded, “Yup. Though Scorpia and I played hockey outside of school together.”

Scorpia beamed at the mention of how they met, “Im so excited to get back out on the ice. Think Frosta will enjoy it?”

Right, Scorpia had been invited along because her and Adora were going to show the runt a thing or two for the sport.

Entrapta ended up sitting in the hallway cross legged as she played around on her laptop, also knowing not to invade my space but apparently feeling social. Adora and Scopria were rehashing old game stories while I did my best to share my glare evenly between the two.

Why the hell was my room the hangout? Couldnt they move this along to the living room to let me brood in my defeat alone?

Entrapta looked up almost as soon as I was about to snap, “Catra should be hitting her peak point. Though it is odd that she hasnt become violent sooner.”

A blush roared across my cheeks as Adora looked over curiously. Why the hell did she call it my ‘peak’.

It was Entraptas turn to receive my glare, not at all because I was avoiding Adoras gaze.

Scorpia scratched at her cheek, “Sorry, Wildcat. Kinda got carried away there.”

I grunted in response as I not so gently zipped up the bag. She took that as he cue to leave, Entrapta following.

Adora hesitantly stood, “Sorry, what was that about?”

I let out a big sigh, “People dont come in here.”

She tensed as a blush crept up her neck, “Oh. Oh shoot. I'm sorry.”

I waved it off, “Its whatever.”

Adora made for the door and I couldnt help but feel a tug in my gut. Horribly enough I didnt really want her to leave. See thats the thing, if you're in my space and I like you in my space, you arent really welcome to leave my space. Yet there she was, only a few steps from the door.

Ugh, fucking attachment issues.

“Adora, wait.” I spoke before I could even really think of what I would follow up with.

She raised her eyebrows in question as she turned to face me.

Panicking, I clutched the bag, “Its ok.” I didnt look up, “You can stay. Melog would be upset if you left.”

I heard her snort as she approached, why the absolute fuck was she getting closer?

She stopped a foot away from me, “Melog, huh?”

I glanced up to see that shit eating grin again, like she had won something.

I clenched my jaw shut, “Yah. Melog.”

As if knowing he was the topic of conversation and an excuse, he chose that time to stretch from his perch on the bed and flop to the floor before leisurely leaving the room.

All the while Adoras smile grew.


    Watching him move around the office with the purpose of searching every room made her very aware of how quickly things could change in a life. In her first day in Zootopia, she had found the way he checked every corner of the tiny office to be ridiculous. Even after the encounter with the tiger, which some stubborn voice in her mind had quietly tried to convince her was an isolated incident, she had found his desire to keep the doors open simply overbearing. Bordering on creepy, if she was completely honest with herself. Now, as he reached the final step in his search and went down on one knee in front of her desk to check under it... If he had done that on the first day, she had no doubt she would have rolled her eyes and complained.

    Now, she simply stood and waited until he rose and gave her a quick nod. “All clear, Carrots.”

    “No wiretaps under the desk then?” she asked, though her tone was playful rather than annoyed.

    “Bombs,” he said simply, walking over to what she now thought of as his chair in front of the desk, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders and tossing it over the back.

    “What?” she asked blankly as her ears dropped, not quite able to quickly process exactly what he was suggesting.

    “No bombs,” he said, sitting and resting his elbows on his knees, paws folded in front of him as he looked at her. “The wolves were a tactical unit. A good tactical unit is trained in explosives.”

    “Great,” she muttered after her brain caught up with her, causing her stomach to sink as fear trickled down her spine. She felt jittery all over again, which annoyed her after she had so effectively managed to save Otterton’s life earlier that day. She walked around the desk and dropped her briefcase on top of it before sinking into her chair. “Something else to worry about.”

    “You let me worry about things like that,” he said, his voice holding that professional edge that he had begun to shed when talking to her recently. Somehow, it made her feel a little better. Something about the stern certainty in that voice, a voice that now came with steely green eyes unshaded by sunglasses. It was a simple reminder that he was very aware of the danger and, as he had been doing since she’d entered the city, he would protect her.

    Bolstered by this, she released a slow breath, perked her ears and gave a quick nod before she popped open the briefcase. “I have a lot of information to go over now,” she said calmly, setting her notepad beside it before she pulled out the flash card that had been quietly in the corner of her mind for a long time. “I realize that most of what I have here will be inadmissible as evidence if it is helpful at all.”

    “Because it was obtained illegally?” he asked, easily unbuckling his shoulder holsters and carefully hanging them from the back of the chair so that the guns and baton were still within easy reach.

    “Yes, and it goes without saying that I wouldn’t be able to give my source for verification,” she said, slowly turning the tiny disk in her fingers as she stared down at it. “But if I can use some of the information here to verify what I already know, then I’ll be able to build a stronger case of doubt without ever showing the actual evidence. Or it could lead me somewhere to gather more evidence.”

    “Then why are you hesitating?” he asked, causing a frown to crease her muzzle.

    “I’m not sure,” she said, gazing at the drive for a moment longer before shaking it off and turning to the computer. “Flash said that you would know how to access the files here and in the e-mail he sent?”

    “Hm,” he replied, his head cocked to the side as he looked at her curiously. “Did he? He didn’t set you up on your own account?”

    “Was he supposed to?” the bunny replied, lavender eyes following him as he rose from the chair and walked around the desk. She forced herself to remain perfectly still, which took some effort when he leaned over the desk beside her to look at the e-mail she’d pulled up. It surprised her, how much she wanted to lean into him, though she was forced to wonder why it surprised her after how close they had been on more than one occasion.

    “I’ve never known him to create a joint account,” he commented, his voice easy even as she felt her heart speed up. For a moment, she almost considered holding her breath when his scent washed over her, then silently berated herself for acting like an idiot. He lived in the office with her. His scent was all over the place, including drifting around her in a delightfully heady way as he tapped away at the keyboard.

    She managed to focus on the fact that his claws were tapping on the keyboard as he looked at an e-mail that didn’t even seem to have an attachment included. ‘Make your fur lustrous and Bright! For only 12.23!’ was the subject, from an address that seemed like little more than an assortment of letters and numbers. Typical spam. She was about to question him when the horrible ad in the body of the Email pixelated and started to fade, displaying an entirely different message.

    Nick,

    As always, you have one minute to download the attachment and enter the password. Failing that, everything will be deleted and the normal recovery fee will apply.

    F

    She felt a little skitter of panic. “One minute?”

    He didn’t reply, only calmly typed in a series of commands, commands that were completely lost on her, that caused the file to start downloading. “Don’t think I’m a computer genius or anything,” he commented at her look, giving her a toothy grin, “I’ve just done this a few times already.”

    “The mystery deepens,” she deadpanned, turning her eyes away from the orange and cream that continued to tempt her and watched as he double-clicked the file that now sat on her desktop. When he started to enter the password, which seemed to stretch on forever, she tilted her head. “With all of this security, shouldn’t the password change rather than using the same one every time?”

    “It changes,” he said, seeming to pause for a moment before he added the last four keystrokes that caused the file to open. Or in this case, extract itself. “How it changes and how I know the change is my little secret.”

    “Uh huh,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly as she took the mouse and opened the folder. The number of files inside was staggering, considering the limited subject matter, and she stared at the list in silence for a long moment before she saw a file named ‘NickSuit’. She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that name recognition had drawn her eyes to the file, and after a quick glance at Nick, who didn’t seem to have noticed it himself, she double-clicked.

    When she opened the file, it took her a moment to realize that she was looking at a receipt of sorts. Handwritten, sloppy, but legible enough for her to get the gist of it:

Tailor fitted suit
Graphene lined shirt/pants x2
Second Kevlar lined jacket on request
carbon fiber insulation on all

$150,000 est

Nick P

    She stared at it for a long moment with her muzzle open a fraction. The price was outrageous, and while her experience in these things was limited to almost nothing, the mention of Kevlar at least told her that this was exactly what she was looking at. An order for body armor. One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand Bucks worth of body armor. As much the price was the date of the receipt, as printed, was the day after she had received the call and accepted his offer of protection.

    Her wide eyes turned to him, seeing his frown turning his muzzle low as he looked at the receipt as a sure sign that he had not intended for her to know about the ludicrous amount of money spent.

    “We still haven’t talked about how I am supposed to pay you,” she said from a suddenly dry mouth, a number of questions running through her mind so quickly that she couldn’t grasp on long enough to settle on one.

    “No, we haven’t,” he said simply, tapping the arrow key on the keyboard quickly to move to the next image.

    She stared at him for a moment longer, wondering if he was going to say something else, only to be met with silence. Opening her mouth to question him further, she stopped when she glanced at the screen. A little ‘huh’ escaped her as she leaned in close to look at the picture of the crime scene, the outline of where the body had been, and the bloodstain on the floor, taken from an angle she hadn’t seen in the case file. It was also slightly grainy, low resolution, which made her think it had come from someone’s phone rather than a professional forensic photographer. She looked back when she realized that he was crouching beside her chair, leaving him at eye level with her as he looked over the image.

     “Where did he get this? Who took this?” she asked, frowning slightly as she clicked the button to show the next image. It was another of the crime scene, something that told her there was likely an obvious order to the files in the folders.

    “Questions like that will make this take forever. If I expected he would send you things you had already seen, I wouldn’t have taken you to see him in the first place,” he added, tilting his head at an image that appeared to be Otterton himself climbing into his car in front of a building he didn’t recognize. “We’ve already established that a lot of this is probably illegal.”

    “Yeah,” she said as her ears lowered. For a moment she almost considered just deleting the files, tossing the flash drive, and keeping her path straightforward. She stopped when the next image on the list was a closeup of the bloodstain on the carpet. Squinting, she leaned in closer. There was the faint discoloration in the shape of what might have been the knife, along with faint,  tiny claw marks in the blood. “Do you see that?”

    “Yeah,” he said, his own eyes narrowed as he stared at the image with her. “It looks like someone picked up the knife.”

    “Which could mean the assumption in the police report that Otterton held the knife the entire time was false,” she said, her earlier trepidation about where the files had come from vanishing as her ears perked up. She snatched the notepad and pulled out her carrot pen as she scribbled quickly. “I’ll have to review the existing images in the case files, see if I can find an angle that shows this, even faintly.”

    “That was quick,” he said, one brow raised as he gave her a slightly amused look. “So, we’re done here?”

    “It doesn’t prove anything either way,” she said, her mind distracted as she noted the file name and time stamp. “But anything that goes against what was force-fed through the trial is progress. But the images can wait. I want to see what’s on this flash drive.”

    The routine repeated itself the moment she accessed the flash drive, though this instead of a junk mail cover, a couple of videos were all that showed on the drive. Her ears burned hot when she browsed the names as he started to type the information. ReynHARD, Lusty Lunar Lapins, and Deep in the Burrows jumped out at her from the list, causing her to cast a cautious glance towards Nick. A glance that she found returned with a smirk that caused her skin to heat under her fur before she released a short burst of laughter.

    “Not something most mammals would want to poke around in, I suppose,” she admitted, watching as the file names started to rearrange themselves into less direct files names. The one that instantly caught her attention was the audio file called ‘Dbel’. She waved his paws aside with an almost playful wave of one of her own, earning a slow grin from him as she reached for the mouse and double clicked it. “I’ve been wondering what this was.”

    “I’m not sure why I keep doing these personal journals,” came the somewhat familiar voice of Chief Justice Dawn Bellwether, “But sometimes they help to clear my head, I guess. It has been… a month since my last entry and a lot has happened. Leodore continues to be all the distraction I need. He remains ever the talkative one until given other things to do with his mouth, but I’m not sure what I would do without him…”

    “I knew I smelled sheep,” Nick muttered, the idea that Nick presented and the words from the lambs own mouth causing Judy to silently groan. Thankfully, the Chief Justice didn’t linger on the subject before she moved on.

    “What is on my mind today? Well, that’s easy. One Judith Laverne Hopps, from Bunnyburrow. Anyone in law has heard of her. The first bunny to willingly, and successfully, defend a fox outside of Zootopia in a murder trial since the city became a bunny free zone. Here to oversee the appeal of Emmitt Otterton. I’ll admit that, at first, I considered her a token. Some attempt to show that there are still some favorable relations between the mammals of Zootopia and the bunnies of The Commonwealth. That was until she started to speak.

    “I don’t know what I expected then, or honestly what I expect now. If she was meant to be a token, she’s not playing the part assigned to her. I don’t recognize that fox who stood beside her while she presented her case for an appeal, but I do know that she wasn’t being used as a mouthpiece. Her words were compelling, even accusing towards the state of law in this city. Even without Leodore’s request that I accept the appeal, I don’t believe I had any other choice after hearing her point out every flaw in our justice system so plainly. And if nothing else, I do believe that justice, and the law, must win in the end. Others obviously don’t agree with me as I learned only moments ago that there was an attempt to kill Hopps. Which leads me to further questions, ones that I won’t voice here. I would wish her luck if that were proper, but I still have my oath to remain impartial. If she can prove her case, then it will be proven and my ruling will be appropriate. If she can’t… Well, at least here I can wish her luck.”

    She sat in silence for a moment, at first trying to make sense of why the recording was sent in the first place. Soon that question was gone as she listened, digesting the words in shared silence with the patient fox beside her. That the entirety of the system in Zootopia wasn’t corrupted was not a revelation to her. There would always be those with good intentions and those who understood that any system was only as good as those who upheld it. But in this, there was the feeling that the one who would hear her appeal would take the evidence as what it was: an attempt to find the truth. It eased something inside of her, an ease that was almost physical as she released a slow breath.

    “You all right?”

    “Yeah,” she said, offering a slight smile that she was sure reached her eyes. She felt it. Determination mingled now with a little spark of hope. “She’ll listen. Now I just need to find enough to make what I say mean something.”

    She hadn’t realized that her paw was still on the mouse until she felt his rest over it. Rough pads and large fingers were gentle as he guided her, and the mouse, over the next video on the list.

    “Then we keep looking,” he said, causing her smile to return and turn a little wobbly when he pressed her finger down on the pointer twice quickly, “Until we find what you need.”

    That he was helping her, rather than just being a silent figure in the corner watching over her as she had expected him to be, gave her the compulsion to hug him. That he was incredibly hot, incredibly close, and smelled so incredibly male made her want to climb all over him and forget that he was a fox and she was a bunny. The middle ground, in a mind that was more relaxed and happy than it had been since she had decided to come to Zootopia, was a kiss. Close as he was now, his muzzle turned towards her and his ears erect, she could feel his breath whisper over her lips. She had never been compelled on so basic a level as she was when she looked into his eyes, felt his paw lightly squeeze onto hers as the distance closed of her own accord…

    The burst of static from the computer caused her to jump, snapping her out of the trance of her own making as she glanced at the screen with a nervous little titter of laughter. “Right, keep looking until we…”

    She trailed off when she saw the gas station that was so often mentioned in the reports, her mind instantly returning to the task at hand even if her hormones were currently trying to wage a war in her blood. It wasn’t a good view, either. It looked like a recording from a wide-angle security camera set down the street, probably a few buildings down and across the street. From the time stamp, it had been recorded on the day of the night. In the lot of the gas station, she could clearly see the rear end of a ZPD patrol car illuminated by the overhead lights, obscured largely by the gas station itself. While she couldn’t see the car number, from the testimony and the fact that it was night, she could assume that she was looking at Weaselton and Fangmeyer’s car.

    “Well, we can confirm that they were there like they said,” Nick commented, then narrowed his eyes and squinted as another, smaller vehicle pulled into the lot. “And that might be…”

     Nodding in agreement to the statement he didn’t finish, she watched the tiny shadow of a mammal jump down from his car and hurry into the gas station. There was no actual visual confirmation, the quality was too poor and he was in the shadows of the gas station itself, but the car matched the model he drove. And the time stamp on the recording put it at 9:55 pm.

    She felt a hard rush of professional excitement that almost managed to wash away her awareness of the fox who was watching her very much like the predator he was.

    “This is it! There might be more in here, but this might be what I really need,” she said excitedly as she paused the video. “This is why the ZPD was so quick to respond because the unit was just down the street. But the call reporting the disturbance came in at 9:54 pm, saying there was angry shouting. If that is Otterton, there is no way he could have murder his wife, cleaned himself up afterward and gone to the gas station in less than a minute. It would take him longer than that to make the drive to his house. And even if he did manage to time it somehow, why would he have returned to the scene of the crime?”

    “You need the receipt,” he commented, resting his forearm on the desktop so he could lean closer to her. A motion that she was completely aware of, even as she took her notepad and took some more notes. Enjoying how close he was, she didn’t try to move away or change the subject. Instead, she grinned at him.

    “Look at you. A bodyguard and an investigator,” she said, her tone playful as she tapped the pen against the notepad while looking him up and down in a way that caused his brow to quirk. “You have been paying attention. Looking to be a lawyer now?”

    “And spend my time in a tiny office all day?” he huffed lightly, a smirk climbing his muzzle as he returned the favor by giving her a once-over before he replied. “How dare you.”

    “But you’re right,” she said after a light laugh, still smiling as she set the pen and pad down. “But we can’t go out looking for it now. It’s either in the impound or it’s been auctioned off, and that information won’t be available until morning. Failing that, or including that, I need to find the stoat that was running the register. Thank you, Nick.”

    “It wasn’t much,” he said after a moment of surprise at the sudden gratitude, giving a little shrug. “There is still a lot to go over.”

    “Yeah,” she said, reaching out to slide her finger down the length of his tie slowly, her eyes on his until she saw them go dark and heated when she ran one finger down the front of his shirt. A chest that she then poked, nudging him back an inch as he blinked in surprise. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten the other receipt I saw. We need to talk about some things, and soon, Mr. Graphene Lined Shirt.”

    “Of course, you haven’t,” he muttered as they turned back to the screen.

    Meetings with the Council. Incredibly important, though not for the reason many members of the Council believed. The Administrator wasn’t even thinking about them as the elevator silently and uncommonly slowly descended, instead using the pad in her paw to review the latest news articles that involved one as of yet un-named fox. An attack in prison. Another daring rescue of both the bunny and the prisoner. Another leak to the press. The fact that no one knew his name didn’t surprise her in the slightest. In fact, she very much doubted anyone would be able to find anything more on him than the fact that he appeared like a phantom when Miss Hopps came to Zootopia. Even she had not been prepared for his coming, so the fact that there were whispers of Yurei within certain dangerous circles of the city seemed apt.

    Without more information to go on, there was a good deal of speculation by the press, some seen as she swiped the screen to the next news organization, ZNN. None of it was confirmed or commented on by herself or the Council, of course. But the glaring question on the front page of the site ‘A Hero in Zootopia?’ sat above yet another leaked picture of the handsome Todd easily dismantling a larger, and armed, predator inside of the prison meant that it wasn’t something that could be ignored by the government forever. How, and if, she should spin it was something she was still considering. Not that she expected Nick would ever stand in front of a camera, shaking Lionheart’s paw in a glorified photo shoot, but there were ways to make it seem as if everything was business as usual without actually trying to bring him into the fold.

    She tapped the screen of the pad in her paw, locking the screen when found the sand fox standing just outside of the elevator with his arms folded behind his back, dark eyes sparkling as he gave a slight bow upon seeing her. The flick of her ears and the surprised pleasure on her face was faux, something that she was sure he knew as well as she did.

    “Andrew, darling,” she said, her muzzle spreading in a pleasant smile as she stepped out and immediately past him. He fell into step with her, respectfully one step behind, as she kept walking towards the Council Chamber. “I assume everyone is gathered.”

    “Of course, Administrator,” he said, the low hum of his voice keeping with the somewhat amused tone that told her he knew that she hadn’t been asking a question. “They are eager to discuss the recent developments, not the least of which is filling the void left by General Valter.”

    “There will be the standard election, of course,” she replied simply, keeping her pace steady even as she saw the holographic walls of the Chamber come into view. The members of the Council itself had been more than eager to allow her to redesign it, once she had made it clear that it would make them the most advanced and envied government body in the world. Currently, the relaxing canopy of trees that ringed the room sang with the unobtrusive but constant songs of birds and the gentle whisper of the waterfall. These were all clearly made of light, being partially transparent, but the effect would and often did change depending on the mood of those within. Particularly hers. “But there is no rush to fill his seat, is there? He was such a dear friend and there are no pressing matters of governance that would require a full voting body.”

    She doubted that he had missed her tone when she had called him a friend, as loose as the term might have been. “Of course, forgive my lack of compassion in what must have been a horrible loss for you,” he said, and though she didn’t look back she was certain she could hear a hint of a smirk in his voice. “I know he was one of the first to endorse your position as Administrator, along with myself. Though we shouldn’t wait too long to put forward candidates for the election. The rest of the Council will not be so understanding if we find ourselves at a standstill because of a deadlocked vote.”

    “There may be someone on the Council willing to abstain from important votes until the political climate would welcome new candidates,” she commented, pausing for a moment as she turned to look back at him. “We will have to consider that they will be the future leader of the armed forces in Zootopia, after all.”

    “I would be willing to abstain for the time being,” he said, causing her to fully halt her steps and raise her eyes to his face with a small smile playing over her muzzle as he continued, “and take over the burden of his considerable administrative duties in the interim.”

    So humble, was her thought, though having known the male for most of her life, she didn’t buy it for a moment. But it was a part of her position to be paranoid.

    “That would be a weight lifted, Andrew,” she said, warming her voice as she glanced towards the chamber ahead. Her platform was just beyond the waterfall now and even over the birdsong and babble of water, she could hear the Councilors growing restless. Ignoring it, she turned her attention back to him. “I will have the proper administrative powers transferred to you after the meeting is completed, though I see no reason to burden you with command of the armed forces themselves. Nathanial was experienced, and a transfer of leadership at this point would unsettle those who served under him. For the time being, I will retain silent command and deal directly with the generals myself.”

    The broadly furred male opened his muzzle as if to offer protest, then closed it with a slow nod.

    “Whatever you think is best, Neveen,” he said, his own ears flicking towards the Chamber again before he waved a paw for her to continue. “I assure you, I will take care of everything. And I can’t fathom that the other Councilors would argue with having my vote temporarily removed from matters of law.”

    “No, I don’t image they will,” she said, a coy grin playing over her muzzle before she turned and made her way to the waterfall.

    The light shimmered around her as she stepped inside once they parted ways, pausing for a moment while inside to allow Andrew time to reach his place before she stepped out onto the podium that overlooked the Seat of The Council. The moment she left the water, the room started to change. The peaceful wilderness setting melted away, rippling as walls seemed to solidify around the room. Elegant oriental craftsmanship flowed outward from her place at the head of the table, dark-toned wood in vibrant reds circling the table now. The curves and lines suited her, pleased her, as did the spires of the Zootopian flag that became her backdrop as she faced those on the Council.

    Without Valter, there were now eight mammals sitting around the table. There was a sort of balance to it now, one that had not really existed before. Four foxes of various species, three representatives of the prey species, including the good Doctor Lyndon, and a lioness to balance the larger predator votes. They all grew still and silent with her appearance, whatever their species, and she looked over them with a cool eye. Like Valter, most of them still believed themselves to be far more important than they were on the road to remaking Zootopia. It was, perhaps, time that she gave them a small reminder of that.

    “Good morning. It is a pleasure to see you all again,” she said, her voice pleasant enough as she swept her golden gaze over each one of them. Then her muzzle curved in a smile that was as cold and hard as those eyes as she nodded. “We have a lot to cover today. But let us begin by talking about the bunny.”


As Sam sat in the backseat of the car, her stomach was in turmoil. She was starving even through all the embarrassment and excitement of the day. She tried to understand why she had ever been these girls' friend. She sat there pondering the beginnings of their friendships and how silly they were. For Sam and Anita, they were fifteen the first time they met. At the time, they had shared a hatred for Coach Prichard. He was an unruly dickhead, but he also bore witness to Anita's nudity more than once. Even then, it was no secret that Anita had an exhibitionist streak. Sam could clearly think back to one time about two months after she had met Anita.

Anita came to Sam in the locker room while they were changing.

"We're having a soccer game on the field today." Anita said standing over Sam who was tying her shoes. Anita was wearing a grey loose fitting t-shirt, her grey athletic shorts (They weren't much longer than her hips.), ankle socks and low top cleats.

"Yeah, I hear the boys are pissed because we're cutting into football practice." Sam said in agreement now dressed in roughly the same outfit, but with knee high socks. Sam was putting her long brown hair into a pony tail but stopped dead in her tracks when Anita spoke.

"I want you to try and pull me down to the ground by my shirt out there." Anita said suspiciously.

"Why?" Sam inquired hesitantly.

"Just do it okay?" Anita insisted.

"Fine, whatever." Sam said as she made her way to the field, Anita following close to her.

When they got to the field, it was muddy and on the outside of the field was the track where the guys were running. Not just a few guys either, it was all the high school guys. Freshmen all the way to seniors, the entire football entourage was there. They all quit running when the girls filed onto the field. Sure enough, Sam and Anita were put on the same team. Sam was actually nervous just playing soccer in front of all these guys in these skimpy attires. But somewhere after both teams had scored a goal in the second quarter, it happened.

Sam and Anita were running side by side, Sam kicked the ball with great force sending it hurdling towards the goal, but lost her footing and grabbed Anita by the back of her shirt, just as she was asked. The shirt instantly gave way, but that wasn't the only thing, her shorts ripped into shreds with Sam's hand as well. Anita wasn't wearing anything underneath at first she acted like she did't notice and tried to help Sam get to her feet ignoring the many excited sounds from the guys watching. It wasn't until Sam said something that Anita tried in vain to cover up. Guys were all around the field, literally. If she covered her boobs and bush, her ass was bared, if she covered her ass her tits were bared. She alternated for a few moments until the girls huddled around her with the Coach and Ref.

"Jesus Christ! What happened?"Coach Prichard said firmly.

"Sam fell onto me and my clothes came off sir." Anita explained.

"Why ain't you wearing any god damned underwear girl?" Coach Prichard yelled at her.

"I don't like to get them all sweaty during P.E. sir." Anita explained, knowing how to talk to him, but still struggling to cover up.

"Where's her damned clothes?" He bellowed.

"Right here sir." Sam said holding up the pile of cloth she had picked up off the ground.

Coach Prichard inspected the clothes and noticed several scissor cuts on the shirt at vital seems and a very obvious cutting of the elastic on her shorts. "Did you cut these to rip apart?" He asked in a tone that signified he couldn't believe what he was asking.

"Yes sir." Anita replied with her head down now trying to cover her face as well.

"Well, what do you think we should do now?" He asked with a scowl.

"I don't know." She mumbled.

"I should make you play out the rest of the game bareback." He said coldly and Anita shook her head no. "But, since you weren't alone, Sam give her your shorts and shirt. You can play in your underwear."

"But, I didn't know anything about it, I just fell and grabbed her. I didn't know her clothes were coming off sir, honestly."Sam pleaded trying to get out of it.

"Is this true?" He asked Anita who was glaring at me.

"Yes sir." Anita said in fear.

Coach Prichard grabbed her arm revealing her breasts. "We're going to the principal's office young lady. Coach Steiner, please take over." Prichard said while dragging Anita through the crowd of boys too quickly for her to be able to cover up. Sam didn't see her for the rest of the day, but Anita would tell her later that she had to ride home nude as well. She waited in the principal's office for an hour and a half for her parents and then got a good lecturing before they dragged her home.

"Quit covering up bitch!" Anita's voice echoed from the front seat bringing Sam back to reality. Sam realized that she had instinctively covered her vital areas and she immediately dropped her hands to her side. "As a matter of a fact, tits on the glass." She added.

Sam pressed her tits against the window again feeling the cold glass pressed against her tits and showing them to whomever could see them. That was until her window began rolling down. It rolled down until her tits hung out the window and then went back up until her tits were sitting on the window and hanging out it.

"That's better." Anita said. Then she heard Sam's stomach growl. "Oh someone has never eaten breakfast huh? Don't worry we'll get something to eat before we get to the park. Pull into that Sonic."

They pulled the little dodge neon into a Sonic on the right, they drove around once with Sam's tits hanging out the window, but couldn't find an empty stall. They pulled around and parked, there was a speaker on the patio with some picnic tables. There were some college boys there hanging out and eating. They were already focused on their car trying to figure out if those were really tits. Little did they know they would soon find out for sure.

"Alright, go order me a number one, dry with no pickles, fries, and a drpepper to drink. And whatever you want." Anita said holding out a twenty dollar bill. Sam's heart began racing and pounding as she grabbed the twenty dollar bill. The college boys were already twisting around to see what was happening when her tits withdrew into the window.

"Please. Don't make me do this, haven't I been through enough?" Sam pleaded.

"Fuck No Bitch! My parents are getting a divorce over your little slutty ass. I could just take the money and leave your naked ass here." Anita said grabbing the twenty and Sam's hand.

"No, Please No. I'll do it. I will."Sam said on the verge of tears. Anita released her.

"Yeah, well good. Do it now and smile." Anita ordered.

Sam put a forced smile on her face and opened the car door.

Sam was immediately greeted with hoots and whistles when she exited the car, she knew this was a bad idea, but she didn't have much room to argue. The college guys were dumbfounded and just sat in shock as she approached the speaker. Her hand was shaking as she was sure the rest of her body was as she reached out and pressed the button to order. The carhops were zooming by not even looking at her; it must be way too busy to worry about her naked state. It seemed like an eternity to Sam, standing naked and not allowed to cover herself, but finally.

"Welcome to Sonic, how may I help you?" Came a chipper voice from the speaker.

"Um... I need a number one with no pickles, fries and a Dr. Pepper." She said nervously.

"Would you like that large size?" The voice asked.

"No thanks. I also need a Jr. Deluxe Burger and a large Coke." She said visibly shivering.

"Alright I have a #1 with no pickles, fries, and a Dr. Pepper with a Jr. Deluxe Burger and a large Coke, can I get you any onion rings to go with that today?" The voice said back as the college boys were beginning to get curious.

"No, that's all." Sam said again stuttering.

"Okay, that'll be $9.41, and we'll have that right out." The voice exclaimed, leaving Sam feeling alone again, only this time the college boys were approaching her and surrounding her.

"So, you got an order you'll be waiting on. Would you like some company while you wait?" One of the boys said.

"No thanks guys, I'm kinda nervous." Sam said fidgeting about and standing on one foot then the other.

"Well, you've got a great body. We're just kind of wondering why you're out here ordering in the nude." One of the other boys said.

"I don't really have a choice."She said pointing towards the car and jumping as one of the guy's hands brushed her butt check.

"Oh I get it. You're a pledge and this is initiation. What house?" The boy said.

"Oh. Beta Pi. You know it." She said, digging into her repertoire of knowledge about the sororities on campus. Beta Pi was well known for very brutal initiation rituals.

"Ah Shit. I know it, in that case boys we better back off. We'll ruin her chances. If I know Beta like I think I do, she isn't supposed to be blocked from the view of anyone and right now she's hidden by us." He said and immediately Sam regretted that decision. She hadn't realized how well they were shielding her until they all sat back down. There she was again out in the open and everyone in their cars were getting an eyeful now. Luckily, the guys had helped pass some time and a carhop came out the front doors. She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Sam.

"Um.. You had a #1 with no pickles and a Jr. Burger?" She asked shocked at Sam's lack of attire.

"Mmm-hmm." Was all Sam managed to get out as she reached to take the bag of food and drinks. Sam gave her the money and took the cash change telling her to keep the coins. She headed back to the car, she pulled on the back door handle but it was locked.

Sam tapped on the passenger side window, Anita rolled it down.

"Oh is that my order?" She said waiting for Sam to hand her the bag. Sam submissively handed the bag in along with Anita's drink. "Oh thanks." Anita said unlocking the doors and Sam was almost immediately in the back seat. She sat back and dove into her burger damn near breathing the whole thing in. It seemed like it was going to be a long day. Anita tossed a key back only this one was for her mailbox.