Rating: M
Chapter 16
“...Who are you?,” the yellow
shrimp demanded suspiciously as he opened the door.
Sentinel growled at the youngling,
confused by the other's presence; smirking when he saw the chihuahua
step back a smidge in fear. “I could ask you the same thing,” he
replied, his short amusement fading quickly to be replaced by
irritation. “What the slag are you doing here?”
The younger autodog scowled, stepping
forward again and leaning up into the rottweiler's face as much as he
could possibly manage. “I live here, slaghead! Why the slag are you
here?,” he retorted, throwing the security guard's words back in
his face.
The only thing that kept the blue mech
from yelling at the impudent brat, was the fact that he heard a
familiar voice calling down the hallway. “Bumblebee? Who's at the
door?”
“I don't know. Just some -hey!!”
Bumblebee rubbed his plating from where Sentinel had shoved him
roughly, pushing the youngling to the side of the door and easily
stepping past him just as Optimus walked into the entry way. Blue
optics flashed in surprise, the german shepherd's ears perking
adorably, before the look of stunned surprise erased itself from the
shorter autodog's face to be replaced by anger.
“Get out of my house, Sentinel,”
Optimus demanded coldly, his lip components clamping down into a hard
line.
“Ultra Magnus said you were sick,”
the rottweiler said, ignoring the order. Sentinel frowned. “You
don't look sick to me.”
“I'm warning you one last time: get
out of my house, or I will call the authorities on you,” the
secretary repeated, the slightest growl in his tone now.
Sentinel growled fully in response, not
heeding the threat as he stalked up to the other mech, looming over
him intimidatingly. “I'm not leaving until I find out why the frag
you're missing work, when you're not even ill to begin with! What?
You avoiding me now, or something?!”
Optimus sniffed derisively, shaking his
helm and taking a step back. “I don't need to explain myself to the
likes of you, Sentinel. I'm-”
“A liar and a coward? Yeah; I know!”
“I am not!!,” the german shepherd
snapped, finally losing his patience with his ex-friend. “Slaggit....
stop trying to drive me into a corner, Sentinel and constantly put
the blame on me! I'm not the one whose at fault here! Its you -all
you- and you're sick, demented games that are responsible. I knew you
hated me, but..... why? Why you would dare stoop that low, u-using
that 'bot l-like that, to purposefully t-try and make me upset.....”
A small shuffling behind the adults
reminded them of the other autodog still present. Looking around
Sentinel, Optimus tried to smile at Bumblebee, but only managed a
weary, half twisting of his lip components. “B-bumblebee, would you
be so kind a-as to step outside? Please?,” he asked.
The youngling looked uncertainly at his
guardian, sparing a glare at the rottweiler. “.... Are you sure,
Optimus?,” Bumblebee replied. “I can stay if you want. If you
don't-”
“No,” the red and blue autodog
quickly interrupted. His optics were slightly glazed, giving him the
appearance that he was about to cry at any moment. Torn, the
chihuahua slowly turned about and walked out the door, respecting his
foster dad's wish for some privacy. Only when the door had closed
behind the youngling, did Optimus turn his attention back to his
unwanted guest.
“Bumblebee, huh?,” Sentinel
grumbled suspiciously. “I didn't know you had a kid.”
The german shepherd narrowed his optics
at the accusation hidden in that statement. “Why, of course I did
Sentinel. I got sparked back when I was in highschool. Didn't you
ever notice?” At the other's growl, Optimus tightened his stance,
folding his arms over his chestplates. “What do you want,
Sentinel?,” he demanded, patience gone.
Sentinel opened his mouth, but quickly
shut it closed. He stepped back a little, shoulder plating hunched
tensely. “I just wanted to talk,” he answered.
It took all his effort not to sneer at
the rottweiler. “Talk? Sentinel, you never just want to talk!,”
Optimus retorted. The secretary fell quiet, before sighing and
letting his arms drop back down to his sides. As much as he wanted
to, as much as he knew he had the right to, he wasn't going to deny
Sentinel a chance to speak his piece. It just wasn't in his nature.
“.....Why did you come here?”
The blue mech cocked his helm to the
side, scowl deepening, before he opened his mouth again. “Like I
said: to talk. I can't exactly do that at work when Jazz is playing
bodyguard and you're all AWOL,” Sentinel growled exasperatedly. “I
can't believe you're playing hooky! I wouldn't have taken you for the
type to slack off.....”
Enough was enough.
“Stop it! Just stop it!,” he
shouted, stomping his pede. Optimus could feel tears burning in his
optics, but as he glared at his ex-friend, he felt only the anger and
injustice. “You've spent years -YEARS- hating me, degrading me or
flat out just ignoring me. You forgot I even existed until we ended
up working in the same building together, and even now, you know
nothing about my life! How dare you than try to condemn me for things
you don't even know about? Are you so slagging proud that you can't
even admit that you are ignorant and apologize when you do something
wrong?!”
“You and your twisted, conceited
arrogance and masochism.... playing games with everyone and their
feelings.... Well, guess what, Sentinel? I'm tired of it! I'm done
with you and your stupidity!,” the german shepherd shouted,
storming up into the other's autodog space, one finger jabbing
painfully into his chestplates with every punctuated sentence. “I'm
done having you sit there, criticizing, analyzing and tearing down
all my efforts and actions, demeaning them until they're absolutely
worthless. I am an individual and my life means something to me! So
why do you hate me so much for that?!”
Sentinel snarled as he was pushed back
into the door, his servos curling into fists at his side. Hackles
rising defensively, the rottweiler made to step back, when Optimus'
final demand made him freeze. Optics flared in wild disbelief, the
blue mech asked lowly, “.....Is that really what you think?”
Optimus hesitated, denta bared and
finger half-crooked into a claw. The question caught him off-guard,
and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond. It was a mistake he
shouldn't have made. The walls rattled as the secretary was slammed
against them, Sentinel breathing hard and looming as he pressed the
multi-coloured autodog into the plaster roughly. Snarling, Optimus
writhed, falling back on his own defence training and aiming for the
rottweiler's weak points.
“Fraggit!,” his ex-friend roared as
his in-step was smashed mercilessly, followed by a blind knee jab for
his inner thigh. Sentinel shoved Optimus into the wall harder, denta
snapping before the other's face, causing the german shepherd to
pause his struggling as he twisted his helm to the side to avoid the
sharp canines. “Well EXCUSE ME for not being a prat and snooping
around in your personal files! It would have been easier, I confess,
but despite all that you might think about me, I ain't that much of a
bastard! Nor would I waste my precious time and coin on some whore
just so I could mess with you!”
“Then why do it?!,” Optimus
screamed, his vocalizer cracking with a spit of static. His emotions
were all over the place; strung-out and far more abused than he was
quite capable of handling. At the moment, they were all twisting up
within him and draining out of the autodog quickly, leaving him
exhausted, hurt and ready to simply bawl.
Sentinel leaned back a tad, his
expression changing for a klik, before the frown returned and the
rottweiler tightened his grip around Optimus' wrists. “Why don't
you think about it for an astrosecond, Optimus?,” he said, ignoring
the secretary's hiss and the way he started writhing again, “Stop
trying to run from the truth! If you could stop being such a
temperamental lil' pansy, maybe you might realize I don't hate
you as much as you think either!”
If it had been any other situation, the
stunned look on Optimus' face, as he had his own words from two weeks
back thrown into his face, would be a hilarious sight to witness.
Instead, the security guard tightened his jaw before grumbling some
half-felt curse under his intakes and pushing away from the other
mech altogether. Quietly, the german shepherd watched as his
ex-friend stormed out the door, slamming it behind him, without any
further condemnations or snide comments said.
It took him kliks later to realize he
was crying.....
xxXxXxx
He fumbled his folders, almost dropping
them all over the floor. “Y-you.... what?,” Rodimus gaped,
turning bewildered optics to the other autodog beside him.
Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics in
surprise, before frowning slightly at the response. Immediately, the
golden retriever lowered his helm, offering a quick apology for his
misconduct. “As I was saying,” the dane continued, giving a short
nod to show that he forgave the other, “I have kindly asked
Sentinel to go see Optimus, and to ask if he'd be willing to come
back to work within a couple days.”
Trying to remain collected, Rodimus
politely asked, “But, why Sentinel sir? Would it not have been
better to ask someone such as myself?”
The older lawyer merely shook his helm,
smiling wryly. “Alas, we've both been busy. There would not have
been any time to go see the diligent mech, and I fear a comm would be
impersonal. No, Sentinel seemed the most appropriate choice. I have
heard that they are old friends.”
As much as he wanted to, the red
autodog wisely decided not to correct his superior. Childhood friends
they might of once been, but it was evident to anyone paying
attention that there was a palpable tension between Optimus and
Sentinel. Something that had grown even darker and straining their
relationship further this past little while. Whatever they were now,
it was the farthest thing from 'friends', and Ultra Magnus giving
Sentinel the other's address was a misguided move.
“....sudden, but it's necessary, you
se-”
“Wait, what?,” Rodimus interrupted,
realizing that the other autodog had started talking again.
Cheekplates burning in shame as he caught the disapproving look Ultra
Magnus sent him, he said, “I-i'm sorry, sir, for m-my rudeness.
Would y-you mind repeating that last bit?”
The great dane vented softly. “I was
saying,” he began, somewhat clipped, “That, though it is sudden,
it's necessary to have Optimus return to work if he is physically
capable of doing so. I will need someone to take care of appointments
and forward all inquiries and the such either to my inbox or to you,
depending on the case.”
“Forward.....?,” the golden
retriever mumbled. “S-sir.... are you going somewhere?”
Ultra Magnus nodded, resting a
comforting servo on the other's shoulder plating. “Yes. I will be
out of town for a little while to see to some affairs. I shouldn't be
gone for more than a couple weeks. If it does become necessary that I
have to stay longer, then I will comm you to inform you of such.”
Rodimus tried to keep the shock off of
his face. “But, sir- I...... Would it not be more beneficial that I
come with you?”
The older lawyer smiled, as if his
younger companion had said a joke. “Nonsense,” he answered. “It's
nothing more than a mere conference between select firms across the
country. No, it would be too boring for you, I believe. Just some old
'bots talking about various legal demands and such.”
“Besides,” Ultra Magnus added, his
gaze growing fonder, “I know that you are capable of managing
things in my absence, son. I would trust no other 'bot to lead in my
steads while I am away.”
His mouth opened to protest, but how
quick were those words to turn to dust on the tip of his glossa. The
faith the old autodog had in him struck him hard, yet not nearly as
violently as the title 'son' did. Resignedly, the golden retriever
saw that he was trapped within the hopes and expectations that this
mech had placed upon his shoulders..... and he did not think he could
escape them, even if he tried.
“Of course,” Rodimus replied,
slowly; almost flatly. “I promise not to fail you, dad.”
“That's my boy,” the blue mech
smiled.
Inside, he felt his spark wither a
little.
xxXxXxx
“Slaggit!”
Optimus fumbled the knife, dropping
both it and the dish rag into the sink as he grabbed his other servo,
staring mutely at the energon welling on the tip of his finger. He
swallowed back the rest of his curses, turning on the faucet and
cleaning the cut.
“....slaggit, Sentinel....,” he
grumbled, twisting off the tap violently and gripping the counter.
“What the frag were you talking about?”
The german shepherd stared down into
the sink, watching as his watery reflection bit its lip component,
before turning its helm away. Coolant pricking at his optics, not for
the first time that orn did he wonder why he even allowed Sentinel
back into his life. The mech who had once been his most trusted and
strongest ally.... had become the source of all his recent pain.
“I d-don't.... just.....” Optimus
growled, pinching at the bridge of his olfactory sensor as his optics
began to burn hotter. He'd started dishes a little while after the
security guard's impromptu visit, in an attempt to recollect his
scattered thoughts, but so far the calming chore had only made him
think more about the other autodog.
“Bumblebee.... gotta get Bumblebee,”
the multi-coloured mech mumbled to himself, wiping tiredly at his
optics and turning away from the sink. There was no more point in
doing chores at this moment; they would not offer him reprieve from
his own troublesome musings and he didn't feel like being alone any
longer. “Bumblebee? Bumblebee, where are you?”
No answer came as he did a quick search
of the house, but remembering that he had ordered the chihuahua
outside earlier, Optimus turned and headed for the patio door.
“Bumblebee, are you out h- oh!”
The german shepherd froze in the
doorway, servo rising to his mouth in shock as he looked down upon
the two younglings rolling about in the grass, servos and mouths
everywhere. At his gasp, Bumblebee onlined his optics; giving a small
yip of surprise, before wrestling the other youngling off of him. The
autodog rolled away with a frustrated growl, but silenced himself as
soon as he saw Optimus standing there, watching them, stunned. Before
anybody could say anything else, the green chihuahua was scaling over
the fence and disappearing from sight.
“U-umm.... h-hi, Boss bot?,”
Bumblebee nervously smiled.
Sighing, Optimus gave the youngling a
dry look before gesturing back into the house. “I believe there's a
few things we should discuss, yes?”
Blushing in embarrassment, the smaller
autodog scrambled up onto his pedes, trying to fix his shirt and
cover the hickeys that no doubt covered his shoulder plating. “S-so,
umm....,” he started, shutting the patio door behind him as he
stepped inside. “Your friend leave already?”
The secretary did not immediately
reply, collapsing on the living room couch and venting heavily as he
rested his face in his servos. At his guardian's down-trodden
posture, Bumblebee padded closer, sitting on the floor in front of
Optimus. “Boss 'bot? .....Optimus?”
“Listen, there's, umm.....,”
Optimus exhaled, straightening up a little and looking at his foster
son. “There's a lot of things you don't understand, and it's
probably best if you don't know about them. The mech who came over
earlier today..... he is.... was....”
“.... he used to be your friend.
Right?,” Bumblebee asked after the older autodog had trailed off.
He shifted closer, resting a servo on the german shepherd's knee. “I,
uh, kinda found your photo album. You've got a few pictures of you
together. You all seemed really happy then....”
Optimus shuttered his optics in
surprise at the confession, his gaze both shocked and hurt. Trying to
shake off the worm of guilt he could feel starting to slither in his
fuel tanks, the chihuahua turned his helm to the side, thinking fast.
“You know..... I get that I'm young and all, and maybe I shouldn't
be saying something, but....,” he paused, scratching behind an ear
self-consciously, “But maybe you should give him another chance.”
“Bumblebee, please,” the secretary
sighed. “It's not-”
“Simple, right?,” Bumblebee cut in.
He sighed, tossing his helm back a little. “C'mon, Boss 'bot.
Everybody's been telling me that my whole life, and really, not only
does it get old after a while, but it also becomes irrelevant.”
Optimus frowned, a flash of annoyance
coursing through him. “You don't know our history Bumblebee, nor
why I'm even upset with Sentinel in the first place. I think it's
best that you stay out of this matter, and instead, let us focus on
why you were out in the yard, being molested by some.... some....
some stray!”
The youngling shuttered his optics at
the clipped reprimand, ears drooping slightly in shock. Horrified,
the older autodog attempted to stutter an apology, his cheekplates
darkening with his shame. “B-bumblebee, I-i, I di-didn't m-mean....
I-i'm.....
The yellow mech shrugged, his lip
components quirked wryly. “It's alright, Optimus. I know you're not
really upset with me. You never have been, and I doubt you ever will
be.”
“B-but....”
“It's Wasp, by the way.”
“W-what....?,” Optimus stuttered.
Bumblebee's smile grew a tad wider.
“The stray. His name is Wasp,” he clarified. “I'd like to tell
you a story. Would that be alright, Optimus?” Uncertain, the german
shepherd slowly nodded. Bumblebee made himself more comfortable,
crossing his legs and setting his servos in his lap, before he looked
up at the other autodog and began his story.
“You already know that I lost my
parents back when I was really small,” the chihuahua said, “And
that I spent several years being bumped around by the system until I
ended up with you. You know, I'll never forget that day when you came
in. Out of everybody there, you picked me. And though I was an unruly
lil' bugger, you still fed me, clothed me and gave me shelter;
without a single word of complaint or demanding something in return.
You were kind because you wanted to be.”
Optimus opened his mouth to reply, but
the youngling's words had rendered him speechless. Seeing that the
other mech was gaping, Bumblebee chuckled, rocking back in glee.
“C'mon, Boss 'bot. You gotta see that you're an awesome mech! Who
else could put up with me as much as you can?”
Smiling softly, the german shepherd
shook his helm, laughing a little himself.
“Anyways,” Bumblebee continued,
after giving them each a few more moments to bask in the light
atmosphere. “Before I was taken in by you, I knew only one other
'bot in the system. When we're not being shipped from foster home to
foster home, they keep us all collected in a youth home -different
homes, for different ages. I met this mech there, and, well..... we
kinda hit it off pretty great.”
“We were of the same breed, had
similar interests..... I lost my parents when I was a bornling, and
Wasp.... Well, he never knew his dad, and eventually the courts
decreed that his mom wasn't suited to care for him because of her
drug addiction.” Bumblebee paused in his tale, pulling his legs to
his chestplates and resting his chin on them. A nostalgic, almost
remorseful look overcame the youngling then, and Optimus was tempted
to reach out and comfort his foster son.
“We weren't necessarily the best of
friends, you might say,” Bumblebee continued, glancing up at the
german shepherd. “I mean, we got into fights often. Petty ones,
really. But we always looked out for each other and swore that we'd
find each other should someone ever take us away. We tried to stick
together..... we really did.... but then one year..... One year, the
social worker came in, packed up Wasp's things and took him away. He
never once came back and I was worried constantly about what might
have happened to him.”
“And then,” the chihuahua chuckled
dryly, “Then he shows up on my way to school a couple years back.
Ready to kill me and all that. You remember when I came home, all
covered in scrapes and cuts? Yeah..... that was from Wasp. I told
you, I'd simply fallen while trying to climb because.... because at
the time, I didn't want you to send him away. Wasp.... Wasp was
different than before, Boss 'bot. I could see it clear as day, from
the way he talked, to the strange way he moved and everything.”
The youngling paused again, this time
for longer, and respectably, Optimus kept to himself.
“.....they beat him, you know that?,”
Bumblebee mumbled, his vocalizer strained. “The fraggers that were
supposed to take care of him, fragging beat him all the time -without
reason or mercy. Stupid courts fragged up big time, when they sent an
innocent sparkling into that drunken hell-hole anybody dares call a
home. If I had known, I'd-” The youngling cut himself off quick,
jaw clenching as he recalled something that his guardian could not
relate to.
Shoulders sagging as he vented softly,
Bumblebee went on, “Wasp blamed me. He felt that I had betrayed
him. Left him there alone to suffer; thinking that I never cared
about him. He survived each hellish ordeal by plotting revenge on me,
and when he could take the abuse no more, he ran away. Going from
place to place, just trying to find me.”
“When he first showed up, I was
surprised,” the yellow mech confessed. “But I was also happy.
Happy that I had found my old friend again. Of course, with him
trying to attack me constantly, that joy soon turned into fear and
even anger. Anger at him, anger at the system, anger at the people
who had done this to him......”
“I guess, the point I'm trying to
make, Optimus, is that there's always someone to blame. There's gonna
be a million different factors in why you should hate someone and
blame them for all your problems.... but, what does pointing the
finger really do at the end of the day? Sometimes, we need to
remember, we're all hurting in some little way and decide: is a
wounded pride going to be the main reason why you choose to lose a
friend for life?”
Bumblebee looked off to the side,
venting again, before rising to his pedes and brushing his knee
joints casually. “It took a while for me to make things right with
Wasp, and I'm grateful that we've been able to move on since then,”
he added, “I know I don't always make the right decisions, but I'd
like to think I did alright when it came to this one. So..... if you
think it's in your spark, try to give this Sentinel guy another
chance. At least, for your sake.”
Still too stunned for words, Optimus
merely sat there as he was hugged by the younger autodog, feeling
something prickle in his spark. From the mouths of babes, they said,
and never had the german shepherd been fed such a heavy dose of
truth. Ever since that orn so long ago, he'd been carrying a giant
gash in his soul, which had never fully healed. It stung, any time he
looked back on his childhood, but no more than it did when he glanced
at Sentinel from down the hallway at work.
So many things left unsaid..... so many
fingers pointing blame, when they only wanted to reconcile.....
“A-alright....,” the secretary
mumbled, hugging his foster son back. Fresh tears warmed his optics,
threatening to fall. “Alright..... I-i'll try.....”
'I'll try and hope that things once
again will be okay between Sentinel and I.'
xxXxXxx
The morning after
was not one the pomeranian was looking forward to. Pushing himself
out of the berth, taking a sip of some flat champagne from the night
before, he got to his pedes, heading to the showers for a long, hot
cleansing session. Taking his time to dry off, Tracks grabbed his
cell and quickly scrolled through his messages. A recent one from the
house mother flashed on the screen; unread. A slight frown pulled at
the autodog's face, but he opened the message anyways, despite how
much he wanted to delete it instead.
“Another day....
another client....,” he mumbled to himself, heading to his closet
to get dressed. Taking his time, the pomeranian got himself spruced
up and looking presentable again. After all, if Flare-up was calling
for him again, then it must be to get him back on task with his
clients. Musing to himself on who would be his date of choice this
evening, Tracks left his apartment and headed upstairs.
“Knock knock,”
he called jokingly, sashaying into the penthouse suite.
Flare-up looked up
from her terminal unamused, before pointing to the empty seat in
front of her desk. “Please have a seat, Mr. Tracks. There are a few
things I'd like to discuss with you.”
“O-oh...?,” the
escort replied, hesitantly stepping forward. He glanced at the two
security guards that flanked either side of the front door, standing
silent and poised until commanded otherwise. “I see you have some
muscle here.....”
“Do not worry
about them, Mr. Tracks,” the femme said, busy pulling a file out
from her desk. “They're not going to bite.”
Frowning, Tracks
took his seat, folding his servos on his lap. “I didn't think they
would. I-”
“Quiet,”
Flare-up ordered, turning her optics up to the pomeranian. “Mr.
Tracks, the last time you were in my office, it wasn't under the
kindest of circumstances. I don't like having to scold my workers,
for the very reason that they are employees, and not my children. If
you recall as well, I also scheduled you for an appointment with the
visiting vet.”
What was she
getting at? “Yes.....,” Tracks agreed slowly. He felt his fuel
tanks give a sick, little flip-flop. “Has something come up?”
The grin the jack
russell gave him then and there sent chills down the other autodog's
spinal struts. Languidly, she flipped open the folder, sliding it
across the desk to the escort. “Oh, something has come up, Mr.
Tracks,” she answered tauntingly, “A certain something that I
confess, I never expected to happen. Nor do I think, you would have
either. But none of that matters now.”
The pomeranian was
confused. Though a part of him screamed not to, he leaned forward in
his seat, hoping that the file would provide some sort of answer as
to what his employer was referring to.
Flare-up watched as
he did so, her optics flaring. “As part of article twelve of your
contract, section B, in the case of pregnancy through one of your
clients, the client then has the right to decide whether to keep or
terminate the sparkling. As we have already spoken to Mr. Soundwave-”
“No....,”
Tracks mumbled, jumping to his pedes. He started to back away.
“-he has decided
to keep the sparkling. His signature is here on this release form.
Until your final trimester, you will be kept under house arrest-”
“No....n-no....no......no.....”
“-and twenty-four
hour surveillance, with rotated guard watch, while you are here, to
make sure you don't come under any 'accidents' during your carrying.
As you near the birth, you will then be transferred to Iacon General
and looked after by the medical staff there. A representative from
the company will visit often to update your status to myself and the
cli-”
“No!,” Tracks
screamed, backing away further. Tears filled his optics and his lip
components trembled as he tried to speak. “I'm n-not.... I-i....
n-no. You c-can't..... No! I refuse! Get this thing out of me! You
can't make me keep it! I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't WANT
IT!!!”
In his hysterics,
the pomeranian picked up a lamp, torn between hurling it at the still
talking femme or using it to cut his own belly open and tear out the
parasite growing within him. Immediately, the two security guards
came forward, grabbing the autodog and wrenching the lamp out of his
servos. They only flinched when the escort began to scream, but did
not release him.
“This isn't
right! You can't -y-you..... It's MY BODY! I won't keep this thing! I
REFUSE!!”
“Unfortunately,
Mr. Tracks,” Flare-up replied, stepping around the desk. That cruel
grin was still on her face. “You signed a contract, and the terms
must be met. It was your own act of foolishness that brought you to
this situation..... and I refuse to allow anymore rules to be broken
because of your selfishness.”
Ignoring the
cursing, crying mech, the femme turned her attention to the two
security guards holding the pomeranian. “Escort Mr. Tracks to his
apartment, and make sure to clear out all alcohol and medication,
please. We don't want our client's offspring to perish from anything
but natural causes. Understood?”
The security guards
nodded.
“Good.....,”
Flare-up said. “It was nice talking with you Mr. Tracks,” she
added, smiling tightly as the guards dragged the screaming and
kicking mech out of her office. “Have a good day.”
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