We are Preparing for the Afterlife

Chapter - 002

He remembered her voice. The way she pronounced her words with a slight Greek accent and calculating tone was hard to forget. The mech half expected he to be waking up in the forest to her mismatched, critically analyzing eyes, but he didn't. No, he opened his eyes to some human male just millimeters away from his face. The human's hot breath stunk of a foul mixture of grilled onions and energon. Thundercracker squirmed to avoid the bad breath, but he couldn't move away. His limbs were bound to the table and his head was secured. This foreign male brought his hand to Thundercracker's face, testing the blinking reflexes. An approving smile from the man was enough for Thundercracker to know he had obviously passed some test, but what he didn't know. The olive skinned man patted the top of his head like he were dog before walking away.

This gave Thundercracker the opportunity to analyze at least part of the room. It was a large, high ceiling room that reminded him of a warehouse on steroids. The walls were constructed of off-white, heavy, duty blocks while the ceiling was a dreary shade of grey. He could see the faint forms of other Cybertronians standing against the walls, but he couldn't make out their details. The seeker strained his head to see a familiar shape on the wall in front of him.

"Don't overreact," the female chided. As she made her approach, her heels distinctively clicked against the concrete and echoed off the walls.

"Don't overreact?" Thundercracker roared. He snorted at her before becoming aware of something more entirely scary. If his Cybertronian body was over there, then what body did he inhabit? Regretfully he looked down to see a sight worthy of him purging his energon tanks—well if he had any he would've.

He was human.

Human.

Not Cybertronian, but human.

His face became entirely pale at the site of his pale, nude body. In his state of shock, the female came over and shoved his head back down. "I said don't overreact," she reinforced with hardened voice. He turned his eyes towards her with hate, confusion, and curiosity. She ignored the emotions in his eyes and the clear questions he wanted to ask but couldn't because he was in shock. "You're going to damage your exoskin, and God knows exoskins take far too long to repair."

"Play nice, Slipstream," the olive skinned man across the room commented. He too had a faint Greek accent.

"Not around him," she hissed. To Thundercracker's relief, she directed her attention to the strange man. Thundercracker's eyes did not leave her. He merely took advantage of the situation to get a closer look at the woman. This was indeed the same woman he had met in the forest; however, she dressed differently. From head to two she was dressed in black; black three inch heels, black dress pants, black dress top with the sleeves rolled just passed her elbows, black choker necklace with an off-white cameo pendant, and black diamond studs in each ear. In one arm she held onto her checkered trench coat; the same shoulder supported her black Lamb purse.

"Whatever you say, Sebastienne," the man answered neutrally. The man approached the table once again, and Thundercracker could tell this person was the brain behind the operation. The man was obviously the woman's brother because of the facial structure, green eyes, and tall (six feet three inches) body. Upon a deeper inspection, he noticed that despite their height, the siblings must have been avid weight lifters by their enhanced muscles. Unlike her, he had professional short, dark chocolate hair and an older face than hers. He looked to be about his mid to late 30's while Slipstream was either late 20's or early 30's. He wasn't dressed well, but he assumed that was because of the work required to actually make a body like this. The man wore a dull shade of teal scrubs with a brand new, white as white could be lab coat over that.

The brother looked at Thundercracker with a much softer face this counterpart. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have met under better circumstances, Lieutenant Thundercracker," he spoke. "I honestly had hoped that it would be better, but I have to restrain you for logical reasons, until I can be assured that you are stable." He placed two fingers along the Thundercracker's neck artery, checking that the skin pulsed like a normal human's. "I'm Acidstorm—err, Achelous Stefanos." With his head he nodded towards his sister. "That's Sebastienne Stefania."

"Where am I?" Thundercracker asked wearily, unsure if these were friend or foe. He felt tensed as the woman turned around to face him.

"You're with us," she answered dryly. "That's all you need to know."

Her comment did not set well with Achelous. "Have some manners. He is a guest."

"He is a decepticon," Slipstream countered quickly. She pointed an accusing finger at Thundercracker. "He is part of the reason for our status." Like Starscream, her words were laced with venom, personal venom. She straightened herself out, not relenting on her growing glare. "He is a disgrace, someone who deserves to be hanged for perpetuating the cycle." She didn't so much as look at Thundercracker as she made these statements, which irritated him. If he was to be insulted, then he preferred it to his face. Slipstream made the motion to speak again but swiftly caught herself before dangerous words could fill the air.

"Sebastienne you need—" His vibrating phone stole the man's attention. Achelous brought to phone to his ear and brought his other hand to his temples. He nodded before mumbling something about being there shortly. The phone shut with a sharp click. Achelous tucked the phone away in his chest pocket as he headed to the rack to hang his lab coat. "I have to go, Sebastienne," he said wearily. "One of your customers just got into a wreck."

"I merely provide them with the alcohol," Sebastienne said curtly. "I'm only in charge of what they do when in the bar; whatever they do outside the bar is not within my jurisdiction."

He rolled his eyes. "That doesn't change the fact that I have to go," Achelous reminded. He turned to his sister with a suspicious and mistrust look in his eye. "Take care of him while I go off and handle this case. When I get back I'll handle him. Is that understood, Slipstream?"

"I'm not some child," she scoffed. "I can handle myself and him without any problems, brother." He stared at her moment longer before being satisfied that she would handle the situation in an adult manner. He grabbed his thick, wooly coat from the coat rack. He tipped his head in goodbye to Thundercracker before exiting the building.

A chilly breeze sunk into the room, causing Thundercracker's bare body to shake and react in odd way … well, odd for him. Normally cold weather was the best for his body functioned at optimal level in incredibly cold climates; however, a fleshy exoskin was just the opposite. It craved for warmth, not cold. He assumed the solution wasn't simple either. Thundercracker was too focused on this new feeling of cold to notice how Slipstream clicked away in her heels and clicked back to him. She placed a small bundle on the table, which drew his attention.

With a disgusted look on her face, she undid the straps that held him in place. Her warms hands grabbed his triceps as she helped him into a sitting position. There was a moment of temptation to lean into the hot touch and wrap his cold body around her, but a sharp look reminded him that she was the alpha. Thundercracker's eyes flicked from Slipstream to the weird, dangly things in between his legs. Very curiously he touched it, only to flinch at the sensitivity of the skin. "That's your genitals," Slipstream commented. "I wouldn't play with them too much … might suffer from some nasty side effects."

"Then what pur—"

She pointed to his penis. "That will be how you excrete your fluids, Thundercracker. The rest—" Slipstream made a motion to his reproductive organs. "Is just there for show." The seeker gave her a curious look with both eyebrows raised. "My brother likes to create an exoskin as closely mimicking a true human body as possible," she said as an answer. Slipstream swiftly changed topics, purposely doing so as to prevent Thundercracker from asking more questions. "Here are some clothes." She handed him a pair of Spongebob themed boxers. "Put those on first."

Thundercracker scooted himself off the table, gripping it for support. To his surprise, his balance was perfect. He grabbed the boxers, pulling them over his legs. That's when he noticed something so minute yet so critical to understanding the situation. His vision was the same as that of his Cybertronian body. Calculations and status of his body's function appeared along side with his sight. He could focus his eyes on minute dust particles like his old body or get the whole picture if he wished. "I'm still Cybertronian, aren't I?" Thundercracker asked as he pulled the jeans over his legs.

"Yes," Slipstream said, handing him an under armor shirt. "You are composed of a specially designed Cybertronian body. Your body has been adapted so that it cannot transform; however, it can provide your exoskin with the necessary nutrients to keep it alive. It's part of the reason why my brother waited to bring you back." She casually handed him a black dress shirt. Thundercracker slipped the shirt on, but fumbled with the buttons. With a mother's touch, Slipstream began to help him by buttoning the shirt for him. Her slim fingers easily pushed the buttons through the correct holes. "It takes several months to cultivate a human skin worthy enough to apply to one of bio-capable bodies."

"So it's a holoform?" Thundercracker asked.

She shook her head. "No," Slipstream corrected. "This is a body, capable of holding a spark."

For the second time, the seeker went pale. If his body was against the wall, then did that mean his spark had been taken out and replaced in this body? Suddenly he felt violated and unclean. Thundercracker pulled his arms close to his body and abruptly stepped away from Slipstream. "Where is my spark?" he demanded heatedly, venomously like Starscream.

"Your spark is safe," she answered bluntly. "Both of your sparks."

"Both?" he inquired.

She nodded, motioning to him to put on the navy, Northface jacket. "We did exactly what you did to Arcee—we split your spark into two separate sparks. One we kept in your seeker body." Sebastienne nodded towards his Cybertronian body. "The other was placed in the body you are currently inhabiting."

"If I am like Arcee, with multiple sparks, then why am I not functioning in my other body?" the mech questioned, still annoyed by the situation. "I should be able to control both bodies at the same time."

"Should," Slipstream pointed out. "But you can't." At that statement, she smirked like his trine leader, and it aggravated him in a way he thought only Starscream could do. He wanted nothing more than to knock that smirk right off her face. The only obstacle that held him back was the fear of the unknown. For all he knew those other Cybertronians could activate, blow his current body to pieces, and then her Cybertronian seeker body. Only that at this point could make his day any worse. He groaned and bit down on his new, slimy tongue. God, he hated having assholes for superiors. "We made sure that you would have no easy way of contacting those fiends you consider friends."

"So I still could?" Thundercracker asked curiously.

She gave him a look so evil, he was sure that even Megatron would have flinched. It wasn't just hate for his allegiance but a personal hate. He cautiously took a step back and gripped the table for security. Thundercracker wasn't sure why she didn't lunge at him because he could see in her eyes that she wanted to hurt him, make him pay for something. Instead she resigned herself to putting on her trench coat and turning her back to him. "If you did or even attempt to contact them Thundercracker, then I nor the others would hesitate to kill you our selves and melt down your body for energon," she stated coolly. "I still believe we should've gone with that option."

"Then why didn't you?" he asked. Thundercracker turned his head towards the walls. The north-facing wall housed two other Cybertronians. One was a bright yellow color with a lean body that he was sure was graceful, an envious small waist, and an oddly human-like, handsome face. On either side, framing his face, were small vent panels that made him look like he had a tiny mane. The body itself was sleek. The mech had huge, sloping shoulders and a wide chest that met a small waist. His legs were built for high speed because of the chicken-leg like structure. He was lightly armored; however, his armor was spotless. It appeared to have recently been waxed for his armor glittered in the light. Disturbingly, there was something familiar about the body because it sent a chill down his new spine, but he couldn't place it.

The other 'bot was heavier built like Ironhide and coated in a military green hue. A gun large enough to make Ironhide's look like Beebe guns was mounted to this bot's right shoulder. Heavy-duty armor covered nearly every inch of this mech; however, he appeared not to have a scratch on him. He appeared to have just gotten off the assembly line. This mech's face was less human. He had large eyes with a small forehead and a face that reminded him French bulldog.

"Because if we did that, then we'd be no better than the other two sides," she lied to him. Slipstream made no effort to disguise this lie, and Thundercracker just accepted it. He was much too interested in the mechs lining the walls—err mechs and femme.

To the West wall were two other Cybertronians, but their builds were much different. For a moment he wasn't sure whether they were aerial 'bots or seekers. They were heavily built, even for a tanking mech. Instead of having a typical triangular chest, it was longer, sleeker like a grounded mech. They had a much more defined abdomen. Like both aerial bots and seekers, the two had a small waist that put the yellow mech's to shame. Their legs were different than seekers. Both were constructed like a grounded mech's would be. The thighs were thick, heavily coated in armor, and compact. The calves were enlarged to the point they both gave the Cybertronians speed but compromised flight mobility in the air. The only giveaway these were seekers were the feet.

Regular grounded 'bot's feet were solidly built with very little moving parts; however, these feet were more animal like. There were digits on the ends of the feet with claws above them to help grip the sides of walls. In addition to proving these were seekers, they had the elongated arms and a hand with three fingers and two thumbs. Where the deltoids would be on a human, they had a high, protruding wing stabilizers (much larger than the normal seekers'). Along their backsides sprouted enormous, angular wings. Their head was situated closer to their chest than an aerial 'bots. The faces were nearly identical. They had mouths like Starscream's (beak-like) but similarity ended there. They large forehead with the etched out Decepticon insignia in the middle, and beneath that they had black visors to protect what he was sure would be a pair of red optics. Atop their head they had prong sticking up, and on either side where the audio sensors would be, another prong stood up.

Unlike the other two, their armor was not perfect. A dull, opaque residue coated the outside of their armor. He assumed it to be from a chemical weapon. Along the seams of the armor, some strong acid corroded it. Flakes of rust had begun to peel off the superficial exterior of their bodies. More noticeable than the damaged armor were the wings. On both of them, the Decepticon insignia had been burnt beyond recognition. He pulled his jaw tightly together as he could imagine the pain; well no, he knew the pain. After all, he had had his wings brutally ripped from him. Thundercracker was reminded of the hollow, ghost-like feeling of not having wings. Beneath the burn marks, the seekers' symbol had been scratched out.

Thundercracker could understand traitors burning away the Decepticon logo; however, he couldn't imagine a reason why any sane seeker would do away with the very symbol that defined them as kings of the skies. Having that symbol was supposed to be a source of pride, a reason to gloat in front of other fliers. 'What kind of Cybertronian would resent their own species?' he thought grimly, half wanting to know the answer and half not.

The differences between the two were small. The one on the left was a mech, and the right one was a femme—they were only distinguishable because the femme had a longer, slimmer face than her counterpart. The only other main difference he saw besides that was the paintjob. The mech was the bright, neon green. He instantly recognized this one s the aggressor who had torn his wings from his body. The femme consisted of cool, teal colors. The green aggressor's body, despite the damage, appeared to have been used often. The teal femme, well, looked as if she had been shut up in the warehouse to collect dust and rust.

"That's you isn't it?" he asked, walking towards the femme's Cybertronian body. She didn't respond, but he could see her holding her jaw tightly. He gently pressed a hand to the cold, lifeless metal. He stared up at the seeker body, admiring the unique structure. "I heard stories about you guys," Thundercracker spoke. "You guys were great … it was legend that your trine was better than mine. I heard rumors how even Megatron feared your power." He bowed his head, frowning. Thundercracker slowly looked to her, but she failed to meet his eyes. "What are the Rainmakers doing here? You guys were supposed to be dead. Why—"

"We really need to get going," Slipstream interrupted matter-of-factly. Still she did not look at him. "The others will begin to worry if I don't show up in time. I doubt you want to be on the receiving bad end of them." At that statement, she ushered him out of the warehouse.

The jacket helped to keep the cold air from touching his sensitive body, but it didn't prevent all of the cold from seeping into the cracks and holes of his outfit. He pulled his arms close to his chest as he shuffled towards the BMW M3, Melbourne red sedan. The short distance was deceiving. Underneath the two inch layer of snow was a sheet of black ice. He slid several times, just barely able to regain his balance at the last moment. And by the time he reached the car, she was already safely fastened in and warming up the interior. He shut door behind himself and strapped himself in.

Thundercracker saw something glisten out of the corner of his new optic. He turned to see a few tears streaking down her soft face. She tightly gripped the steering wheel and stared off into the night. He couldn't read her eyes except for a few emotions that he was all too familiar with: pain, regret, and stress. The last was an unfamiliar emotion he hardly ever saw: anxiety.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a rude tone.

She blinked, coming back from somewhere distant. "Yeah, it's just a paper cut," she muttered in a weak voice. Slipstream put the car in drive and began to drive through the snow in the middle of the night.