The next day, Siren got up early as he always did, messaged Nightbeat that he was available, made sure he was presentable and headed to the office for a brief check-in. Inferno was still there. Siren nudged him awake to apologize profusely for making him work a triple-shift and assured that it would all be worth it and he'd never ask such a favor again. Inferno simply grunted in response, so Siren figured he was as in the clear as he could be.

A bit of time had passed and he still hadn’t received a reply, so he went to track Nightbeat down. He took in the morning ambiance of the ship he called home—it was fascinating simply because he had never seen what it was like at that time of day. Spending some time wandering wasn't so bad.

After a few misses, Siren found Nightbeat in the oil reservoir. Nautica was doing laps in the pool, identifiable by the surface waves her submerged alt mode made, and Nightbeat was shoreside, logging her exercise in her meticulously kept planner.

“Hi, Nightbeat!” Siren called, walking towards the ledge. He would have greeted Nautica, too, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was actually her.

“What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t abandon your post,” Nightbeat asked, turning to get a better view.

“I asked for today off so I can help you out with that investigation you mentioned! I messaged you, didn’t you see it?”

“Oh,” Nightbeat muttered, seeing that he had received but not noticed it. “Well. That’s great, let’s get to it.”

“Are you coming with us?” Siren asked as he offered his hands to pull Nautica out of the pool after noticing she had transformed and poked her head halfway above the oil.

She accepted the offer, then, still dripping in oil, shook her head. “I’ve got to go clean off. It’s unfortunate that we generate water as needed making this swamp the only place to swim, but I don’t think there even were any aquatic Cybertronians when this ship was built since all of us natural swimmers are colonists and MTOs, so I can’t complain about inconsiderate design. You two go have fun!” She smiled, nudging Nightbeat, who did his best to ignore it.

Of course, Nautica couldn’t leave before giving Nightbeat a hug to remember her by (and reclaiming her planner), cross-contaminating him with oil which made the fact that that was all an excuse apparent, but she was off before either Nightbeat or Siren could comment on it.

“So! What’s our objective?” Siren asked, hands on his hips, waiting for the spiel.

Nightbeat thought for a second as he wiped the oil off and decided which problem would be best for the occasion—he clearly hadn’t expected Siren to follow through so immediately. He clicked around his communicator for a visual and showed it: a candid photo of Nautica holding a datapad stylus but zoomed in so far that she was mostly obscured. “We’re going to get to the bottom of who stole my pen.”

It was a three-in-one engraver, inker, and datapad stylus. Real high-end stuff, but still, just a pen. Nowhere near as exciting as what Siren had been abstractly envisioning. “Oh, okay.”

“I sense disappointment.”

“No! I just—” Siren reflexively held his hands up in defense. “I don’t know the first thing about this kinda stuff, and I guess I just figured it’d be like the movies, but now that I think about it, that’s obviously not true!”

“Not usually, no.”

Nightbeat must have been hazing him. Or too oblivious to realize this wasn’t exactly a fun assignment. But, then, who said it wouldn’t be fun? Siren was dismissing the idea before even seeing where Nightbeat took it.

“You can always leave if you aren’t interested… but I did choose this problem because there’s something you specifically might be able to help with,” Nightbeat said, eyeing the fire badge tampographed onto Siren’s shoulder plating.

“No, I am! I’m very interested! Lay it on me!” Siren said with a very assured tone as if to say it was ridiculous that Nightbeat ever doubted him.

“Let me walk you through it: our victim was last seen at the Earthdance a few weeks ago. I took it out of my pocket when fishing for shanix to pay for a drink, I set it on the counter, and, after handing over my money and being handed a drink, and went on my way.”

“And?”

“I didn’t realize I had forgotten and subsequently lost it until it was too late. All that noise was disorienting. I only got to question people who I remembered being there: Swerve, Bluestreak, Blaster, Riptide. None of them know anything.”

“Oh, yeah, I seriously doubt it was Blaster!”

“You know him?”

“Pretty well, yeah!”

“Interesting. If you were called as a character witness, would you repeat that in court?”

“Um…sure? Yeah. Yes.”

Nightbeat took a moment to add it to his case notes—now that Siren had been made aware, the fact that he had to type as opposed to scrawl was, indeed, causing him some frustration. “Moving on. It could have been anyone else there, and there was a lot of them. With all the darkness and flashing lights and…dancing…it’s hard to even recall who was there.”

“You haven’t checked the security feed?”

“You’d better believe I tried. But people tend to yell at me whenever I try to mosey in somewhere that’s ‘off limits’, and they don’t appreciate multiple attempts, either.”

“Maybe that’s where I come in? I’ve been in the security crew’s hideout a couple of times, no problem!”

Nightbeat seemed greatly pleased that Siren was not only willing to break protocol, but was the one to suggest it. “Oh, you’re shaping up to be a great asset. Let’s go.”

Siren led the way through the halls and into the staff area, loudly greeting coworkers as he crossed their path. None seemed to even notice Nightbeat following him, or at least didn’t mention it. The room where security footage was kept was empty. They strode in like they owned it and Siren took a seat at the console, trying a few passwords on someone’s account until one worked. He turned to Nightbeat, awaiting instruction.

“Is it really okay for us to be in here?” Nightbeat asked, surveying their surroundings.

“Not technically, but we’ll probably be fine! Just listen for anyone coming!”

Nightbeat nodded and took a second to recall the date and time of the dance. Siren gave him a look, awaiting even further instruction. “Just bring up Swerve’s.”

“Right. Okay!” Siren said, scrolling through the interface for longer than it should have taken. “Except there are just the hallway cams.”

“Why’s—oh. Brainstorm ‘upgraded’ everything, huh?” Nightbeat tsked. “Probably got around it by claiming that just because they’ve been weaponized doesn’t mean they aren’t still security cameras, technically. Well, it’s better than nothing. Bring ‘em up.”

Once Siren brought up the feed, it consumed all of Nightbeat’s attention for all of its impressive duration. Siren did his best to keep an eye on it, too, but he couldn’t help being more interested in the rare instances of Nightbeat’s little flinches and subtle gestures that seemed to indicate something had piqued his interest.

Participating in a dance, one could be so lost in the fun that an hour felt like minutes. Watching people enter and exit a dance that had come and gone through a mid-quality security camera, however, was agonizingly slow.

Siren had to wonder if Nightbeat was even getting anything out of it. “So are you—”

Nightbeat held his hand up to Siren’s lips, shushing him. Somehow, it didn’t bother him. For such an assertive statement, the touch itself was surprisingly gentle.

Siren paused the video. Nightbeat retracted his hand. “So are you getting anything out of this?”

“Yes,” Nightbeat said. “Or, I will. Keep it rolling.”

“You don’t suspect any of these people yet?! You watched all that and got nothing?”

Nightbeat shook his head. Siren exhaled and unpaused. He was more than halfway to a good first (or fifth?) impression, he wasn’t about to give up. Besides, it was a party. There were plenty of entertaining shenanigans scattered throughout the feed, even if they were less engaging in retrospect. Nightbeat started idly tapping his chin in frustration. Eventually, the video reached the end of that night, and they both admitted to drawing a blank.

“I just don’t get the impression that any of those people are the pen stealing type.” Nightbeat shook his head, still thinking. “I’d say it might be someone who was working so they didn’t show up on this feed, but I already spoke to all of them… ”

“Oh!” Siren snapped his fingers, seized by realization. “No, you didn’t! Maybe it was that other bartender, the Legislator!”

Nightbeat’s eyes widened. Ten may have been huge, but still managed to be such a wallflower that even Nightbeat could forget him. Siren, on the other hand, frequented the bar enough not to. “He does like to scribble those little drawings, doesn’t he? Excellent work, Siren. Let’s go pay him a visit.”

Siren listened for someone approaching as he shut down the computer and felt cheated that no one did. He had hoped they would get caught and Nightbeat would dazzle them with some witty excuse for what they were doing. He wasn’t as disappointed as he imagined he would be, though. Spending time with Nightbeat was interesting in its own ways, even if nothing massive happened.

They made it to the hallway that housed the bar, the video they were reviewing earlier turned real. Siren volunteered to go in and get Ten. He was bringing a tray to one of the only occupied tables—it wasn’t a very popular location this early in the day. Siren tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy, we need you in the hall for a second!”

Ten seemed willing to go, but Swerve took offense once he noticed. “Hey hey hey hey hey, what’s the big idea? Do you think you can boss him around just cause you’re someone else’s boss? He’s busy!”

“Nightbeat needs him for questioning!”

“Nightbeat?” Swerve practically sneered. “You don’t know Nightbeat.”

“No, but—” Siren could have given a surface-level explanation, but thought that getting the heart of the matter might go faster. He closed in towards the counter, trying to keep his volume down. “Listen, Swerve. That’s exactly my problem! I’m trying to make a good impression here!”

Swerve’s demeanor shifted, adopting a knowing look. He considered it his duty as a bartender to play wingman whenever possible—if things ended well, great, if they didn’t, his patrons had reason to gather and gossip and order refills, it was win-win for him. “Fine. Just bring him back in one piece.”

Siren saluted Swerve and ushered Ten out.

“Do you know why we’re here, Ten?” Nightbeat asked. Ten shook his head. Nightbeat pulled out the reference photo. “Does this look familiar?”

Ten turned away. Legislators weren’t generally known for their expressiveness, but he sure looked guilty. “Ten.”

“Do you know its whereabouts?”

“Ten.”

“Can you show me?”

They followed Ten into the bowels of the ship, where his makeshift room was. Siren wondered why he was holed up in there when there were plenty of available habsuites—and even if he didn’t technically qualify for one, some were just being used as storage, surely something could be worked out. Did Swerve know about this? Did command know about this? It was something of a fire safety concern. And Overlord could have his own attachment deck constructed from scratch, but no one had noticed or cared that a crewmate (who some people saw every day!) was living like this? Talk about priorites.

Somewhere in that cloud of thoughts, Ten had started digging through his arsenal of craft supplies and found Nightbeat’s holy grail. He presented it, but held on.

“It’s mine, Ten. Hand it over.”

Ten shook his head.

“I’m not mad you took it, I just want it back.”

After some frustrating and repetitive back-and-forth, Nightbeat swallowed a modicum of his pride and produced a pen identical in function. He turned to Siren and quietly said, “Sometimes, you’ve got to compromise.” then turned back to Ten. “I’ll trade you.”

Siren grew immediately suspicious. Two of the same pen, but he only wanted one of them? It reeked of sentimentality.

Ten looked back and forth between the pens before ultimately accepting the offer. After close inspection to ensure it was the genuine article, Nightbeat thanked him. Ten placed his new acquisition right where he had been keeping Nightbeat’s, and the three of them headed back to the bar, where Ten got back to work and they departed.

“Y’know, when you explained this to me, all you said was that you wanted to know who took it, then all of a sudden, you want it back, and you had a trade ready and everything! So? What’s so special about it?”

Nightbeat looked at first disapproving of Siren’s invasiveness, then very satisfied with it. He handed the object over to him. “Figure it out.”

Siren was flustered at the command but determined to figure it out. He turned it over, moved it around to observe it in different lighting, tapped his chin thoughtfully, the works. “It looks pretty fancy!”

“It is.”

“Cybertron doesn’t have fancy pens. Unless you’re a Prime. Which you aren’t!”

Nightbeat nodded slightly, still not offering any clues.

“Well, it’s not from Cybertron, but it does have a little Cybertronian flair, so I don’t think it’s too alien. Ah—and that photo! That Camien friend of yours gave you this, I bet! They had all the time and resources to make extravagant junk like this!”

“Bingo.” Nightbeat said, holding his hand out for it to be returned to him. Siren surrendered it without any fuss.

“Why not just say it was so important cause it’s from her, though?” Siren asked. “I probably would’ve been more on board at first if you did!”

“First, I’d want to get to the bottom of this no matter how I got the pen, and I expect any collaborator of mine to be equally intrigued by the seemingly inconsequential. Second, gift-giving is often a slippery slope to eternal commitment—”

“Oh. Are you not into that sort of thing?”

Asking anyone else that would not have gone over well, but Nightbeat just shot him an amused glance. “Quite the opposite, but I try not to broadcast our relationship because I don’t want her to feel pressured into anything. She had enough of that on her home planet. I just thought better of mentioning any of that in front of someone who’s known for shouting the first thing that comes into their head.”

“Oh, I won’t tell! I can keep a secret! I keep a lot of secrets, actually! You wouldn’t believe what—”

Nightbeat held his hand to Siren’s face to silence him before he did exactly what Nightbeat was accusing him of. Siren couldn’t help but laugh at himself once he realized.

“Okay, okay. But that was just cause I—something about you is so disarming! I feel like I could tell you anything!”

“If someone feels disarming, you should be twice as vigilant.”

“Right.” Siren nodded sagely.

“That said, I do consider myself trustworthy, I’m just saying, don’t fall for people’s tactics.”

“Also, what about that other pen? Why weren’t you writing with it earlier?”

“They aren’t identical—the grip on that one is a bit too far back. It’s unusable.”

“Nothing escapes you, huh…”

“Not if I can help it.” Nightbeat said. They turned a corner to a hallway of habsuites. “This is the home stretch to my room.”

“Oh, okay, I gotta…go,” Siren muttered, feeling like he had spent as much time with Nightbeat as was reasonable. He’d probably go back to the bar and see who showed up, even if it meant getting an earful from Swerve. “But I had a great time! How’d I do?”

“You’re definitely a novice, but I think you’ve got the makings of a great detective.”

Adding new skill sets to his repertoire was nothing new, doing so kept him from getting bored and he had become something of a multidisciplinarian over time thanks to it, this new firefighting venture was just the latest endeavor. But being a detective? He had always thought it sounded fun but was surely a bit above his capabilities, though if one of Cybertron's greatest was suggesting he had what it took, maybe he had been selling himself short all this time.

“As for the ‘who’s bossier’ thing, choosing an activity where one of us has a leg up may have been a mistake, but there will be other opportunities, I’m sure.”

Siren found it amusing that Nightbeat ever actually wondered about that, especially after spending the better part of a day together.

“See you later, Siren.” Nightbeat offered his hand.

Siren shook it without hesitation. It went on a few seconds too long, but they were both to blame. “Later!”

After parting ways, Siren found himself replaying the day in his head as he went back to the bar, and was so engulfed in it that he walked too far and had to turn back twice before finally getting to his destination. It took a horde of his peers showing up to get his mind off of it, but once he went home, it returned. He couldn’t help it—Nightbeat suggesting he would see him again was the first thing he had to actively look forward to in a while. ✧