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The key to a successful heist was in the planning. They couldn’t just barge into the Bank of Cybertron riding on only their bravado and slinging guns. That was how petty crooks secured themselves an uncomfortable jail cell.
Thunderhoof maintained his stature by respecting the merits of strategy. Trial and error had taught him some painful lessons, but Thunderhoof had since come to understand - success is spelled in the planning, as well as strict measures of control that demanded respect, knowing the right people and, a lot of guns.
He was so experienced that hitting a bank for the sake of boosting internal funds had become as commonplace to him as a civilian frequenting their local refectory for their allocated rations.
Which was why Steeljaw was surprised to be disturbed in the early evening following a fairly routine robbery he may or may not have influenced.
Steeljaw’s home was planted in a gated community where the houses all looked the same. Visitors required a permit to enter or special clearance from a current resident. It was a limited and stifling lifestyle, but as the goons patrol in the entrance reminded Steeljaw, as a senator, this was for his own protection.
A lot of residents found the isolation contenting, but a lot of residents didn’t have the same set of antsy, rowdy friends Steeljaw had accumulated.
The gang occasionally liked to visit spontaneously and include Steeljaw in their problems. But what did he expect when he incriminated himself with mechs even more lawless than he was.
The first few times during the early days of their transactions, Thunderhoof’s gang had attempted to barge their way past the compound’s security when their urgency surpassed common sense. Being so inconsiderate nearly exposed Steeljaw’s connections with Thunderhoof and since then Steeljaw had learned to instal a few precautionary measures in case Thunderhoof’s gang ever came rambling to his doorstep again.
Steeljaw bought out the security detail.
It wasn't hard and the transition went mostly smoothly with the exception of a few nosy residents asking what had become of their favoured doormen.
Steeljaw didn’t care much for the community’s preference, despite the slogans leading his election campaign that claimed otherwise. Seizing control over his assets was a necessity.
On nights like these when the radio communicator connected exclusively to the gatehouse buzzed, Steeljaw complimented his own foresight.
“You got visitors, Boss.” Behind the guard’s voice Steeljaw could hear angry chatter.
“Who?”
“Two monoformers, and a big guy with bigger horns - he’s compensating for something with those things I’d say, he’s had nothing but a bad attitude since he got here.”
There was another angry hoot in the background, the guard was likely to receive a verbal dressing down for his lack of respect. Steeljaw anticipated things getting out of hand.
“Anyone else?”
“They’ve brought a truck that said his name was Grithook.”
Steeljaw pinched his nose and paced the bedroom, tail sweeping behind him.
“Fine, let them in.”
Steeljaw watched the automatic gates to the compound roll back through his bedroom window. Once he saw the convoy of trouble approaching his home, Steeljaw tucked his evening robe tighter round his body and went downstairs to greet his company as they arrived in the garage pulling in not so smoothly behind Steeljaw’s personal automobile and eating up what limited space was left.
Thunderhoof and his monoformer henchmen, Knut and Bolt, were squashed inside Grithook’s cabin and didn’t reveal themselves until the garage door inched closed and they were safely stored in privacy.
“What are you doing here? You know better than to be seen lingering round senator’s residences - it could incriminate the both of us.” Steeljaw tucked his robe closer together as Thunderhoof dismounted Grithook, not speaking and glowering fiercely as if whatever happened was Steeljaw’s fault.
There was a small staircase leading from the ground floor of the house to the base of the garage and Steeljaw stood upon it, surveying.
“What went wrong?” He demanded, as it was clear from Thunderhoof’s sullenness and general disarray that nothing had gone according to plan
Steeljaw seldom saw Thunderhoof looking so disheveled, with the exception of when he was lying on his back, but that was nobody’s business.
The tails of Thunderhoof’s shirt were untucked and there was a pink splatter splashed up his sides. As soon as Thunderhoof marched to the back of Grithook, the rear of the truck sprung open and the source of the pink stains was revealed. Thunderhoof’s two other disciples, Knut and Bolt tromped toward the boot to stare at the mech plugged full of holes jammed into the small compartment with his arms twisted awkwardly around his trembling head.
“You gots any plastic we can lay down, Boss? We don’t want to get your floors all messed up.” Knut asked Steeljaw.
There was a large plastic sheet stuffed under the workbench at the back of the garage. Steeljaw used it once to protect his floors whenever the workmen swung buy to redecorate.
Bolt was directed to the sheet and spread it out on the floor, stretching it far under Grithook’s bumper. He barely had chance to spring out of the way before Knut and Thunderhoof’s strong hands were scooping the hostage out of the trunk. The mech tumbled from a height and crashed down with a dull thud. A splatter of energon sprung from his leaky body and peppered the tips of Thunderhoof’s shoes.
Thunderhoof’s frustration was palpable when he scowled down at the mess. The runt writhing on the floor didn’t even realise what he’d done, his face had taken a pounding during the ride to Steeljaw’s and a cotton gag and been slipped between the few teeth the mech had left.
“Is that a cop?” Steeljaw caught sight of the badge and stripes decorating the officer’s shoulders and his optics grew, “Did you bring a cop into my home?!”
Thunderhoof was too busy stepping out his shoes to answer.
“Ey’,” Bolt spoke up defensively, “This slag-heap pipped one of our guys too!” There wasn’t only a hostage stashed inside Grithook, underneath where his fragile body was laid were bundles of swag, the last of which Bolt was shouldering onto the ground.
“Yeah,” Grithook’s rough voice disturbed his stationary body, and soon the vibrations of a transformation rocked him on the spot. Now that he was finally able to change form without pulping the hostage between his gears or ruining their haul, Grithook stretched, but his root mode was huge. To avoid with a collision with the ceiling Grithook needed to stoop. “And he ain’t a cop, he’s a security guard. One of the ones you didn’t mention.”
Steeljaw flattened his ears when he was faced with three sneers of accusation. Thunderhoof wasn’t concerned with the actions of his colleagues. He shuffled out of his shoes and threw them at the weakling guard snivelling in the middle of the tarp.
“Count out the cash into piles of a thousand, and keep an eye on this mug, I don’t wants him dead but I don’t wants him to move either, you get it?” Thunderhoof said as padded round the perimeter of the tarp. Grithook and Bolt were already delving into the bags of cash and handling fistfuls of credits, Knut looked over the security guard and then glanced toward Thunderhoof, who was in mid march up the stairs.
“How long are you gunna be, Boss?” Asked Knut.
“As long as it takes to get Clampdown out of the slammer and put right this mess.”
“You’re gunna get him back to us though, right?
Thunderhoof jarred his neck when he snapped a glare at Grithook. His engine made a peevish grumble as he nudged past Steeljaw without answering and continued into the house. It seemed the night had been a total disaster and Steeljaw was antsy to settle any implications, particularly those which involved himself. He followed Thunderhoof, collecting the bloodied clothes Thunderhoof shed as he transversed Steeljaw’s home. He knew the routes well enough. As he reached the top of the staircase, in a rage Thunderhoof gripped the collar of his prim white shirt and yanked it apart. The brutality cost him all of his buttons. They abandoned his shirt in quick succession and bounced to the dark corners of the room. He balled the shirt up and flung it at the wall.
“Was that really necessary?”
Steeljaw kicked the shirt off the floor and caught it. Thunderhoof’s march had led him into Steeljaw’s office: a dead end, which spurred his silence to explode into a fit and he rounded on Steeljaw as the mech arrived behind him.
“You said,” Thunderhoof’s stomp made the floor quake, “There would only be three guards, well I counted five: the one downstairs who’s about to become fish food, and the cheeky glitch that snagged Clampdown, they came after we had the other three pinned down. They tripped the alarms just after we got the cash registers open.”
“How much do you think you got?”
“What are you expecting your cut?!”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Thunderhoof. I didn’t”-
“No, nuh-uh, not you, I’m not buying it and I wants to know right now if you’ve got anything to tell me before I starts diggin’ about the place.”
“You want to know if I set you up?” Steeljaw watched Thunderhoof’s fists clench as he waited for some honesty, “Why would I do that, Thunderhoof? What would I have to gain?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m askin’. Do you think I’m a liability, huh? Are you tryin’ ah put me away for the benefit of your campaign? It’d support your slogan.”
Steeljaw felt vexed, and hardly had the energy to reason. It’d been a long day rallying voters and Steeljaw wasn’t in the mood to fire up another debate.
“If you got locked up you’d ruin my campaign regardless of the circumstance.”
“You callin’ me a snitch?!”
“Get a grip, Thunderhoof. I know you’re angry, but you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I’m being rational.”
“If you really thought I was setting you up, you wouldn’t have come here looking for help, would you?”
Thunderhoof refused to look at Steeljaw and it was infuriating.
“Would you?!”
“Alright! So I don’t know what to thinks, but the mech that they snagged during the operation, Clampdown, he’s skittish. The longer we leave him in there, the more likely he is to try to strike a deal with the cops.”
“Does he know about me?”
Thunderhoof shrugged, it was enough ambiguity to make Steeljaw worry. It affected him, and Steeljaw went to pour himself and Thunderhoof a stiff drink while he thought.
The high grade was warmed to room temperature. As Steeljaw passed a cube to Thunderhoof he spotted more flecks of energon painting Thunderhoof’s bare plating.
“Why don’t you go and have a shower, I’ll ring the police department and see to Clampdown, and then we’ll handle the mess downstairs together.”
“I think I’d rather sit in on that conversation.”
“Thunderhoof, don’t be rude. Have a little faith in your guarantor.”
“After the day I’ve had, I should know better than to have faith in any of you clowns.”
Steeljaw smirked, then picked up the receiver attached to a landline communicator.
“Go on, I’ll join you when everything is taken care of.”
Thunderhoof deliberated, Steeljaw could see he wasn’t entirely satisfied and so offered an urging look and added the incentive of placing his hands on his hips. Ultimately, it was the petulant sweep of Steeljaw’s tail that prompted Thunderhoof to put up his hands and leave the room, taking his drink with him.
“Alright,” he said on his way out of the room, “I dun’ like it, but alright. And I don’t wants Clampdown dead, the boys won’t be happy with me if I brings home another corpse instead of money.”
With the room to himself at last, Steeljaw got to work and pressed the receiver to his audial. He waited for the operator to greet him.
“Hello,” he said to the voice on the other end, “I’d like to be put through to the District Police Department, yes I have a personal code,” There were a long set of numbers written on a card Steeljaw stashed in his desk draw. He read them out slowly but clearly, and the operator confirmed that Steeljaw was entitled to his request and from then on started referring to him as Sir. Soon after he was transferred and the line was filled with soft music until a voice picked up the phone on the other end.
“Senator?”
It felt good to be recognised, but Steeljaw needed to know who he was speaking to as well.
“It’s Bumblebee, Sir.”
“Of course! Our favourite protagonist, I should’ve known from your voice. Listen, is Fracture working tonight? I need to speak with him about the press conference tomorrow, he’s leading the motorcade correct?”
“Yeah! Sure, sure, I’ll put you through now. I’m voting for you by the way.”
“Are you really?” Steeljaw's fangs gleamed against the mouth piece. Bumblebee sounded so excited.
“Yeah! Your whole campaign is about cleaning up the streets,” and the competition. “I kinda support that a lot.”
“Well that’s marvellous.”
“…”
“Bumblebee?”
“Yes, Sir?” His voice was rife with a nervous, boyish charm.
“Can you put me through to Fracture?”
“Oh yeah! Yeah, of course, umm, bye.”
A harsh blurt of crackling flowed down the line as Steeljaw waited patiently for another connection to be made.
“‘Ello.”
“We’ve got a problem. One of Thunderhoof’s mechs was snatched today at the bank. He’s squeamish, he’ll talk if we don’t get to him first.”
“What do you want me to do? Knock him off?”
“No, Thunderhoof wants him back. Just get him out in the open. Arrange a transfer from the station to county jail and I’ll send someone to intercept on the way.”
“I’m risking a lot for you here, Boss.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you know how to cover your tracks.”
A disgruntled sound pierced the connection, but Fracture was a resourceful mech and so he wouldn’t deny the truth in Steeljaw’s flattery.
“Alright. I’ll call you when it’s done and give you information on the transfer route - could take more than half an hour.”
Which provided Steeljaw ample time to visit Thunderhoof in the shower.
“That will be fine,” he hung up, rolled his shoulders and absorbed the immense feeling of satisfaction. Steeljaw left the study room with a spring in his step, the rush of success was hard to smother and his tail even harder to control. By the time he reached the bathroom, Steeljaw was excited and already pulling loose the rope that held his dressing gown closed.
The wall tiles oozed and the bathroom was wet with steam, which Steeljaw had expected to see billowing over the rim of the shower cubical. Instead, he found its source rising out of the bath tub and the shower cubical was empty.
Thunderhoof sat up quickly, lifting out of a bed of bubbles, the heat of the emersion made his helm feel fuzzy and his optics misted over.
Steeljaw stared at the mech appearing out of the thick layers of pink foam. His beady eyes made Thunderhoof feel oddly exposed and he started dragging the bubbles so that they gathered and mounted around his body.
“What was wrong with the shower?”
“You poured me a fraggin’ drink - I wasn’t about to try sipping on that thing in the shower was I? It would’ve got all…watered down and slag.”
“Diluted.”
“Oh! So you’re back to being the brain-box now, huh?” Thunderhoof’s brow arched, he took a slurp of high grade to stifle the gawky expression that befell his face as Steeljaw stepped onto the fuzzy bathmat and disrobed in front of Thunderhoof.
“What’re you doin?” Thunderhoof stared from Steeljaw’s crotch up to the mech’s crooked smile. The robe fell off Steeljaw’s shoulder and crumpled around his ankles where his tail swished it aside.
“I said I’d join you. Scooch forward.”
Thunderhoof was flustered . Eventually, he gathered his wits enough to set down the nearly empty cube of high grade and wriggled his aft further down the bath creating waves. As Steeljaw stepped in behind Thunderhoof the water splashed round his ankles and then he lowered himself down, slowly, searching for a place to stretch out his legs and tail. Thunderhoof's build absorbed most of the space but they eventually negotiated the limitations of the bath and settled.
Steeljaw mouthed gently across Thunderhoof’s shoulders.
“I am sorry about earlier.”
“It’s just freakin’ bad luck.”
“Yes…but still, I know you don’t like it when things don’t go according to plan.”
“It’s difficult to keep the boys back home happy y’know? When I come back with nothin’ they get antsy and then I gotta teach ‘em that it’s not all about them.”
“Because it’s actually all about you.” Steeljaw had a stash of scented oils loaded up in the rack balanced on the corner of the bath, he poured a generous amount of oil onto a sponge and spread it over Thunderhoof’s shoulders.
“Hey - Yo! That’s not what I meant! It’s about balance and, mmmm,” Steeljaw kneaded the sponge into Thunderhoof’s joints, reached round to Thunderhoof’s front and laved suds over his chest. It smelled good, Thunderhoof was cozy and a flush was stretching as far as his antlers as he reclined against Steeljaw and let his body sag, “…and the chain of command.” Thunderhoof was mumbling, eyes drooping. Steeljaw wormed his muzzle into the crook of Thunderhoof’s neck, prodding his tongue into taut wires and hummed.
The sponge was squeezed and suds bloomed between Steeljaw’s fingers to trickle down Thunderhoof’s chest and collect in his naval. Their path downward was soon followed by Steeljaw’s inquisitive hand. He scratched lightly, picking off flakes of the guard’s energon.
“Hmmm?” The soft, questioning purr made Thunderhoof squirm. Steeljaw's finger tips grazed teasingly close to Thunderhoof’s interface array. There wasn’t enough space for both of them to move and water slopped over the rim of the bath as Thunderhoof struggled for position. His aft tilted forward and his shoulders slid further down Steeljaw’s chest. His sensuous descent into the warm water was interrupted by a keen prod into his back. The discovery and the pause tempted Steeljaw to run his palms under the veil of suds. The sponge floated away from them as Steeljaw favoured Thunderhoof’s open interface array. He tugged on Thunderhoof’s spike until the girth grew hard and breached the water’s surface. Thunderhoof watched the bulbous blue tip appear and felt the bubbles kiss his metal then pop. The sensation so soft that it became unnoticeable once Steeljaw began sweeping his thumb across the transfluid duct, and Thunderhoof’s attention was absorbed by the tense throb of arousal burning his loins responsible for turning him needy.
Steeljaw was kissed hungrily, Thunderhoof lapped and suckled hard on Steeljaw’s lips forcing him to let Thunderhoof’s tongue inside. As Thunderhoof tipped his hips back he trapped Steeljaw’s spike near his interface array making the mech squashed under his aft shudder.
Teeth sunk into Thunderhoof’s neck, and all of the jaw-dropping sensation suddenly moved to Thunderhoof’s valve. Between the confines of the bath tub and the unyielding curve of Thunderhoof’s thighs, Steeljaw made room for his fingers, squeezing them against Thunderhoof’s exterior node. Bolts of sensation made Thunderhoof’s legs rise out of the water and his aft slid deeper into the bath with Steeljaw’s spike now sandwiched under his shoulder.
The bubbles had risen round Thunderhoof’s neck, he was too weak with pleasure to stop his foot kicking out of the water and dangled over the rim of the bath. His thighs spread further and his valve opened to Steeljaw’s touches. Water trickled down from Thunderhoof’s knee and drip, drip, dripped onto the tiles, the puddle was added to massively as a wave crashed over the bath and was soaked up by the bath mat.
Thunderhoof thrust his hips into Steeljaw’s playful hands.
“Careful now,” Steeljaw needed to rest his chin in the groove of Thunderhoof’s antlers. He slapped Thunderhoof’s valve and the water bubbled, “No making a mess.” Steeljaw's hand applied pressure to Thunderhoof’s valve, giving him something firm to grind between his legs. Thunderhoof’s breast bowed out of the water when Steeljaw stretched his fingers between Thunderhoof’s swollen lips and a warm current swilled against his opening.
“Frag…frag me.”
Steeljaw sat up sharply in the bath, pushing Thunderhoof up with him as one finger simultaneously slipped deep into the slick heat between Thunderhoof’s legs. Steeljaw was delighted to see Thunderhoof’s feet curl with each tentative stroke of his finger until he withdrew.
“Get out the bath.”
Although he was shaking, Thunderhoof managed to stand. Water rushed off his sleek body as he rose and rained down on Steeljaw, who immediately followed, giving Thunderhoof’s aft a hard slap as he wobbled out of the bath.
As soon as he was standing on the bath mat, dripping and lusting after an overwhelming need for Steeljaw’s spike, Thunderhoof let his knees give way and bent forward, burying his face in Steeljaw’s discarded robe, breathing in his comforting scent.
Pleased by Thunderhoof’s natural incentive, Steeljaw admired the sight of him close to coming undone. Steeljaw knelt close behind Thunderhoof, so Thunderhoof could feel the waves of heat pouring off his frame and sense the ominous weight of Steeljaw’s spike wagging close to his trembling aft. Steeljaw’s spike was throbbing. It felt like the very centre of his being as he eagerly touched it to Thunderhoof’s swollen valve. Thunderhoof's exterior node was sore and hard. His valve gave an involuntary twitch, as if winking at Steeljaw before he slid smoothly into position, slowly spreading Thunderhoof as he rolled forward and back, then Steeljaw snapped his hips. Thunderhoof bit the robe, rolled his aft back and forced a rhythm. The sharp slaps of Steeljaw’s hips bumping Thunderhoof’s aft made their ears ring.
The muffled wails smothered by Steeljaw’s robe were sinful. A new cry sounded each time Steeljaw’s considerable girth dragged against tender internal sensors. Each time he eased back, Steeljaw made sure he pushed back in slowly, and watched Thunderhoof devour his spike, his slim stomach flexed and his thighs wobbled.
“Primus! You’re so tight!” Steeljaw blinked up at the ceiling, he was still roughly shunting Thunderhoof across the floor. Thunderhoof’s valve squeezed round him, harder, as overload seized his insides. Steeljaw rammed his spike in to the base and held Thunderhoof’s hips stiff. Panting in the pause, Steeljaw could feel the desperate throb of Thunderhoof’s insides pulsing against his spike. He looked down, and admired the rosy ring of Thunderhoof’s valve stretched painfully wide across his girth. The hole was plugged tight and only thin rivulets of fluid could escape and roll down the creases of Thunderhoof’s aft.
“W-What are yah waiting for?” Thunderhoof spoke through his teeth and Steeljaw could hardly hear him between the pounding roar of their ventilation. Smirking, Steeljaw leaned forward, his dominant weight crushing Thunderhoof’s chest into the bathmat but his grip kept Thunderhoof’s pert aft flush against his groin.
“Do you want my knot?”
A torturous whimper pressed past Thunderhoof’s lips, his antlers clashed with the floor as he tilted his helm over his shoulder. Steeljaw drank in the sight as it was a delicacy that needed savouring. He’d never seen a mech look so torn between pride and wanton desire.
To encourage a response, Steeljaw drove slowly forward, the fat bulb at the base of his spike straining Thunderhoof’s calipers with a gentle but persistent press.
“Come on,” Steeljaw hissed, noticing Thunderhoof had started to claw at the rug, “Take it!”
Thunderhoof’s sudden mewl was interrupted as the phone in the other room stared to blare.
Steeljaw growled his frustration hard, pulled his spike back a fraction and then drove in again, fully, the intimidating swell of his knot sealed against Thunderhoof’s aft.
“I gotta answer that.” Steeljaw muttered, in between peppering Thunderhoof’s cheek with kisses. The mech buried his face in the wet tassels of the bath map to stifle his whine as Steeljaw eased out, leaving Thunderhoof’s valve uncomfortably slack.
A hot gush of fluids trailed down Thunderhoof’s thighs and stained the rug. He remained hunched forward on the floor, aft presented submissively, seeping lubricant out of his puffy and delectable valve that was so alluring to Steeljaw that he longed to kneel behind Thunderhoof and slurp up the mess.
But the noisy ringing in his study was a persistent call for attention. Growling, Steeljaw left the bathroom and answered the call before the answer machine could kick in.
Fracture was calling back as promised and he’d completed his role in the plan. Clampdown was being moved, as he and Steeljaw spoke on the phone the guards were already preparing Clampdown to be loaded into the back of an armoured van. Steeljaw grabbed a data pad and noted down the point at which Thunderhoof’s men were expected to intersect with the transfer.
“Right,” He’d balanced the receiver between his shoulder and audio. Thunderhoof joined Steeljaw just as he was finishing the conversation. His eyes glanced over Thunderhoof, who in the meantime had wriggled back into his trousers, and Steeljaw utilised his utmost restraint not to stare at the fading outline of Thunderhoof’s spike bulging behind his unzipped fly.
“Okay, thank you Fracture, and when is it due to depart? Right, okay…okay.”
“Was that our mech?” Thunderhoof accepted the data pad off Steeljaw after the receiver had been replaced on the communication device.
“Yes,” They reviewed the details on the data pad together. “Clampdown is going to be shipped out within the next fifteen minutes, which means you need to put on some clothes.”
Thunderhoof chewed his lips,the clothes he’d arrived in were a pile of useless rags kicked into the corner, he would not be wearing them again, “You got any spare?”
Steeljaw wasn’t normally prepared to dress his guests, but Thunderhoof was an exception. He dug out an outfit for himself as well as a shirt and tie for Thunderhoof and started to dress. While Steeljaw was slipping the last of his buttons through their loops he caught sight of Thunderhoof struggling to put the simplest of knots in his tie. It was painful to watch, especially as Steeljaw had always regarded Thunderhoof as the snappiest of dressers.
“Stop, you’re making it worse.” Steeljaw brushed Thunderhoof’s hands away and rectified the mess noosed round Thunderhoof’s neck. As he worked, Thunderhoof couldn’t stand still and Steeljaw sensed waves of apprehension rolling off his frame.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nuttin’.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but I’m gunna have to ask you a favour now.”
“Oh?”
“I need to borrow your car to get rid of the security guard. Can’t just execute him in your garage, someone might hear the shot,” and never mind the mess it would create.
Steeljaw smirked.
“Well you’re not taking the car without me in it.” Steeljaw yanked on the long tail of Thunderhoof’s tie to even out the length.
“Wha’ you don’t trust me not to wreck it?”
“Exactly,” Steeljaw led the way out of the room, “and after that, maybe we can pick up where we left off.”
After the flirtatious inquisition, as they tromped down the stairs, Thunderhoof had to be especially careful to avoid Steeljaw’s waggly tail.
“Wait,” Thunderhoof commanded after they’d turned toward the garage. He placed a hand on Steeljaw and steered him aside, “Let me go first.”
The shirt Steeljaw had loaned to Thunderhoof was a fraction too small and stretched tightly across his shoulder so that the fabric strained at the seams, and Thunderhoof tugged the material down before shunting the door to the garage open.
Steeljaw followed obediently.
“Okay, you mechs done counting out the money? Yeah? How much we got?”
“It’s not great, Boss.” Knut was fanning himself with a wad of cash, reclining against a nearby workbench with a stool as his seat and their hostage as his footstool.
Thunderhoof was disappointed with the amount he heard, but claimed it was better than nothing for the sake of their morale.
“Right, here’s what we’re gunna do,” Thunderhoof offered up the data pad for inspection, “our contact in the force tells us that Clampdown will be on this road within the next hour,” he gestured to a line scrawled across a local map on the data pad. “He’s gunna be in a white armoured vehicle - non-sentient. I want you to get him outta the van and off the road with no fuss, alright? No casualties. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Boss!”
“Gimme your guns.”
The mechs looked reluctant to part with their weaponry as if it was their given right to hold onto it, and Thunderhoof’s mistrust was offensive. Nevertheless, they complied and bequeathed their hand guns into Thunderhoof’s steady custody.
“What?!” Thunderhoof snapped when he noticed Knut was staring at him.
“Nothin’! You just smell nice, that’s all.” A sly smile curved his lips. Thunderhoof sucked in a furious breath through his nostrils, accidentally catching a pungent whiff of scented oils and bathroom soap.
Embarrassed, he turned away and shoved one of the confiscated guns into Steeljaw’s care, the other two he hid in his subspace. The final handgun, Thunderhoof’s personal gun, was tucked into the back of his belt, but he removed it to make a point, and held onto it. After Knut’s comment, Thunderhoof’s shoulders were tense and he was on high alert to defend against any more remarks. He stood taller and pushed out his chest as he paced.
“Steeljaw and I are gunna take care of this scrap pile guard and then I’ll meets yous and Clampdown later at the clubhouse.”
“No problem, Boss.” Grithook crumpled down into his hulking alt-mode and the two monoformers immediately prepared to climb aboard.
“Wait!” Steeljaw reached for them while they were still hanging out of Grithook’s cabin, “Take your cash with you, I don’t want any evidence left here!”
“Eh, no offense, mate, but we’re kinda on the clock here.”
“Do what the bitch says, alright?” Steeljaws ears flattened to his helm, “Don’t give him a reason to yap in my audio.”
Grudgingly, the monoformers followed their boss’s command and clambered down from Grithook. The heavy sacks for money were hurled back into Grithook’s trunk and the hatch was secured. Once they’d eventually sped off to retrieve Clampdown, Steeljaw and Thunderhoof focused on spreading the plastic sheet across the back seats of Steeljaw’s car and then shoved the security guard’s body on top of it. The mech made weak sounds as he struggled to right himself, but every bump they hit on the road brought him closer to sagging onto his side.
Street light bounced off the car’s finish and Steeljaw rounded every corner as if he was participating in a rally. Thunderhoof had his seat belt on, but as an extra precaution he clung to the door handle for support.
“Slow down whuddya? It ain’t a race!” On top of everything else they did not need a speeding ticket. Steeljaw eased off the acceleration, but he didn’t respond and that gave Thunderhoof a sinking feeling in his guts that something was amiss and tension pressurised the car’s small atmosphere.
“You’re bein’ very quiet.”
Steeljaw bristled.
“Am I?” He yanked on the steering wheel and the car veered onto a quieter road.
“Yeah, what’s the matter with you?”
At first, Steeljaw seemed keen to uphold his silence, but it didn’t take long for his internal acrimony to wear him down.
“You called me a bitch!”
Thunderhoof leaned away from Steeljaw’s explosive ferocity.
“What? No I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did. You were posturing for your squad and you called me a bitch!”
“So what if I did? It’s not like a mean it. They probably dun even know what the word means.”
Steeljaw didn’t say anything, just shook his head, chewed his lips and kept his eyes fixed on the road. Thunderhoof scoffed, his wrists flicking his hand gun as he flapped. Incredulous feelings filled him with puffs and other disbelieving sounds.
“You’re crazy! I’m not gunna give you special treatment just coz we frag. Stop being so sensitive would yah?”
“Fine, so how about the next time you trying showing off in front of your goons I bend you over, and show them who the real bitch is?”
Thunderhoof baulked.
“Hey - yo! Can we not say things like that in front of the hostage, please?”
Steeljaw barked, it was a cruel and unsympathetic sound. Thunderhoof struggled to hold onto his composure.
“I am tryin’ tarun a business here, I gots a reputation to keep and all this, favouritism, and the-the scented oils, it’s killing the image I gots goin’.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining about the oil when I was putting it on you.”
“Nah, I mean, it was nice then but there are repercussions, I can’t look like a weak bottom bitc”- Steeljaw glared and Thunderhoof snapped his trap shut before he could make things worse.
“I think you smell nice, so did that monoformer.”
“I ain’t saying I don’t smell nice, I’m just sayin’ it’s not a very robust quality.”
“That’s total slag, why don’t you ask the cop, see what he thinks.”
“He ain’t a cop, he’s a security guard.”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m not”-
“Ask him!”
Thunderhoof breathed deeply and relented for the sake of ending the argument. Reaching into the back seats, he grasped the security guard by the arm and hauled him upright. The cloth gag the mech had been biting between his lips all afternoon had cut into the guard’s mouth. As soon as Thunderhoof unhooked the gag and it tumbled down the guard’s chin on to his neck, the guard slouched forward and started to wheeze.
“You smell like a fragging scented candle!” His opinion was the first thing to roll off his tongue and Thunderhoof was appalled.
“You see!” Thunderhoof twitched, “No fraggin’ respec”-
Shock struck them in time with a torrent of wet things destroying the car’s interior with stains.
The firearm in Thunderhoof’s hand had blasted off involuntarily. The damage to the security guard’s head was spectacular, the splatter of energon painting the back of the car even greater.
Steeljaw barely managed to refrain from swerving.
“What th- what the frag did you do?! Did you shoot the cop?!”
“No! It was an accident.”
“You shot the fraggin’ cop!”
“I was gunna shoot him anyway! Primus above.” Thunderhoof tossed his gun onto the back seats with the body and touched at the sticky residue coating his helm, “That’s disgusting.”
“Is it…is it on me too?!”
“Yeah…”
Steeljaw slapped his hand against the steering wheel, eyes flicking over the destinations labeled on upcoming road signs a suitable solution, a place where they could bury the mess.
Thunderhoof was still preoccupied with trying to remove sticky chunks of body parts. The more he tried to wipe the essence of the guard off his head the more he seemed to smear energon around with little success. Then Steeljaw made an unexpected turn and Thunderhoof and the dead body were forced against their respective car doors.
“Woah!” The road underneath them turned bumpy and the car’s suspension struggled to handle the drive. They’d rolled onto a dirt track and Steeljaw was pushing them further into the darkness of the blackened path, “Where’re we going?”
Steeljaw could only think of one place nearby that was good enough to abandon a car and a body and wash away all the evidence.
“The Luna Lagoon, we can dump the car, I’ll claim it was stolen and we can pretend like all of this never happened.”
The road ahead of them was getting worse and worse, Thunderhoof had one hand braced to the dashboard and the other was squashed against the roof. His eyes were as wide and as bright as the headlamps that guided them through the darkness as they ventured miles and miles into the Cybertronian scrub, until they were faced with the great and tranquil expanse of the Luna Lagoon and, true to its name, it reflected the silvering light of the clear night sky.
They both stepped out of the car and listened to the silence. There wasn’t a soul for miles and the glow of the nearest city was a distance amber din arced over the horizon.
“I’ll drive in as far as I can… and then you can help me push.”
Thunderhoof was already splashing water over his body to clean off the mess and terrible sink of energon and guts.
“Sure.”
Steeljaw stepped back into his car, muttering a fond and respectful farewell to his beloved machine as he revved up the engine for a final time. It had served him most faithfully, but tonight its usefulness had expired. The soft gurgle of the exhaust highlighted the silence. Thunderhoof stood up straight as the car started to slowly roll forward, and saluted the vehicle’s role in covering up their wicked crimes.
Water gurgled under the tyres as the car eased down the muddy bank and splashed into the lake sending rippled far across the water.
Bubbles fluttered out of the car, and the deeper Steeljaw drove the less traction he had. Air pockets lifted his tyres off the floor and the car bobbed, half above the surface.
“Steeljaw?” Thunderhoof started to wade into the lake, toward the car. Steeljaw was climbing out of the open driver’s door, battling against the strength of the water rushing inside the car. He swam forward, but was still tall enough to touch the floor of the lake.
“Help me push it.”
Thunderhoof paddled up along side Steeljaw and they pressed their hands to the rear of the car together. Thunderhoof stared into the dark head-splatter spread across the rear window and gulped.
The water rising around them was cold. It filled their joints with ice, making them stiff and slow. Thick layers of mud and silt disturbed from the bottom of the pond were equally intrusive, collecting in between gears and hampering mobility. The strong smells of the bath oils were washing away. Replaced by damp and pond-smell.
“Y-Y’know,” Thunderhoof’s teeth were beginning to chatter, “When you said we’d pick u-up where we left off earlier, I’d assumed you’d meant the fragging. Not taking a bath.”
Steeljaw shuddered and held his bristly tail above the water.
“We’re g-gunna need another bath after this anyway but after that, if you like, I’ll let you go on top for a change.” It was a suggestion, but Steeljaw already knew that wasn’t Thunderhoof’s style as much as he’d like to let people believe otherwise.
The dark water had risen up around their shoulders, and with one final, almighty shove they sent the car drifting into the middle of the lake. Under the moonlight they watched the roof of the car slip further and further under the water until the only evidence left were bubbles.