Okay, sorry to disappoint, this is the second half of what was originally chapter three but I had some requests to split the chapter and thought it would be more manageable for folks. Good news everyone, chapter 5 is just around the corner.
As they followed the animal's tracks south, the intensity of the sun's rays drastically reduced as it neared the horizon. Their pace quicken as the temperature dropped and the challenge of hunting footprints in the dark became more obvious. Two specks on the horizon grew to reveal a grain elevator and water tower. Forget the equines footprints, human structures! At last, signs of an oasis of civilization in this flat desert of grass! Expressions conveyed exhausted relief as they reach the perimeter of the town, but none made a mad dash or sprint, their physical forms too battered and weak to exert excessive energy.
The border of the sleepy town consisted of small, rustic bungalows; some well maintained, others the description of trailer trash. Moths fluttered around dim flickering porch lights where residents gossiped with neighbors. Some paused as the newcomers dragged themselves down the street, others retreated behind screen doors in hushed whispers. Few even pointed at Swindle when he had to correct and guide Blastoff from colliding with a mailbox.
"Yeesh Blastoff, you act like you can't see past your nose." The former shuttle emitted a dejected huft and pressed forward.
The shift from dirt and gravel streets to cobblestone indicted the transition from rural suburbs to the decrepit downtown. Only two buildings showed signs of regular maintenance, the brick townsquare and a white church with a tall bell steeple. Further down the main road, old masonry structures filled with rundown shops lined either side. Darkness consumed the closed stores, save for the diner's neon sign, the only lively place seen so far.
Brawl gazed through the glass curtain window at the oblivious patrons who scarfed down their dinners. He grimaced as his abdomen rumbled and produced angry noises at the sight of the array of comestibles on the tables. A duet of gurgling began as Vortex joined beside him at the window, drool forming at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't long before Swindle integrated in the zombie trace team at the storefront. Blastoff leaned on a lamp post for support, ready to past out.
They were in bad shape, Onslaught sighed, they spent the majority of the day dehydrated and hadn't had a decent refueling since before they left their base. It seemed they were hungry enough that even organic food enticed them. He cleared his dry throat, "Lads, gather round." The three reluctantly dragged themselves towards him. "Before we can seek sustenance we need two things, first Swindle needs to acquire us currency to make purchases; second, we need to establish a base of operations."
Swindle lazily lifted his head, "Swindle can't acquire currency because the bank is closed for the day and I didn't see an ATM."
The pulsing vessel reappeared on Onslaughts temple, "...Swindle you better."
"Calm down Onslaught, I can't retrieve any banknotes for everyone to use, but if you give me one of the credit cards I can purchase us boarding and refueling for tonight."
Everyone eyed him suspiciously.
"Look, whatever concerns you have of me betraying all of you, just drop it. What am I gonna do, run back out in the grass wasteland. Besides I'm too exhausted and hungry to conceive any tricks. Just give me a card and let me do the talking, you can loom over me while I conduct everything, like Megatron over Starscream, and learn a thing or two on dealing with humans. What's it gonna be?" With one hand on his hip, he offered the other in an open palm, waggling his fingers.
Onslaught reluctantly relented and passed the con artist a card from his pocket. The con snatched it from him and marched further down the road. "There should be some establishment of lodging on the main street and we haven't explored this area yet.
Swindle's hypothesis proved to be true, a quaint motel resided on the highway before exiting the town. The front sign beamed two little words that made Swindle's stomach drop and he silently prayed to Primus that none of the others had read it, or that they were capable of reading english. Hopefully he could convince the clerk to make an exception for them.
He scoffed at himself, 'hopefully' where did that come from? No one could resist his salesman charm…. except his teammates because they knew him a bit too well. He paused at the lobby entrance and steeled himself. 'I've interacted with humans before but not on their terms, if I had my old body I could use it as leverage in intimidation.' He suddenly glared at his reflection and silhouettes of his teammates on the door's glass. 'Son of a motherboard fragger. It's bad enough to suddenly become human by.. I guess Vortex's IT, but did IT still need to make me the SHORTEST!'
'Nevermind, I'm just getting us a room for the night, something to silence my tank's complaints, and shutting out the rest of the world for some much needed recharge.' He forced a pleasant smile as he crossed through the threshold.
The clerk occupied himself behind the sports section of his newspaper, oblivious to the newcomer in front of him. An occasional rustle of a paper and cough indicated he had not yet died from the shear excitement he experienced at work or his smoking habits.
"Eh hm, Hello?"
The newspaper shuttered as if startled and dropped like a drawbridge to revealed an overtly middle aged man with thinning hair and a thick moustache. He held a cigar between two canines while bobbing his head like a chicken to get a good look at the group, particularly at the one who interrupted him. "Hello, no oh elo roomo, elo availEbo," he said loud and slowly.
Swindle stood flabbergasted and stuttered, "I beg your pardon sir?"
The clerk jerked his head back dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape, his cigar had fallen behind the counter.
Swindle cocked a brow at the man, "Uh yes, I saw the sign outside, I hope someone accidently forgot to turn it off because we need two rooms. Our car caught on fire quite a few miles out of town and we're stuck here until it's repaired"
The man finally regained his senses and shook his head, "I was not expecting you to know English, and sorry about your car, but all of my rooms are booked.
"You're joking," sighed the decepticon, " I didn't think a small town such as this would attract enough folks to fill a hotel."
The clerk gave a hearty laugh, "Of course we do, it's our biggest festival we host, the annual rattlesnake hunt! We have folks from all over the state and neighboring states for this event. Here have a brochure on it, you can read English?"
Swindle gave him an unamused stare, his smile had long since faded, "I was perfectly capable of reading your sign outside."
"If that's so, then why did you come in and ask me?"
The former Jeep snatched the packet and turned heel, "Incase someone canceled because we have nowhere else to go and I didn't see any other hotels."
The other combaticons were crashed out on the sofa in the lobby, except Brawl who stared at a longhorn bull mounted on the wall. After a quick inspection of where the neck met the wall, he would walk around to the other side of the wall, only to display confusion.
Just as Swindle was about to report the bad news to his commander the hotel host shouted at him, "Wait!" He paused and drummed his fingers nervously as all the Combaticons eyed him. "Uh, this is the only hotel in town and we are booked, but if you go two blocks east of here and turn left and go north for about a mile you'll run into a farmhouse on the northeast of town. There is an elderly woman, a good christian woman, and her husband in that house with two rooms for rent. As far as I know, they don't have any tenants yet, I would try there."
Onslaught rose from his seat, nodded, and rounded up his men without a word. Vortex dragged Brawl away from the wall, leaving the bulky man to forever question the mystery of what happened to the rest to the bull.
The last light of the day had nearly diminished as it began to sink below the horizon. The itinerants, now sick of their nomadic lifestyle for the day, scraped along what hopefully was the last leg of their journey for the day.
A lone, farm house's light shined up ahead behind a rickety picket fence with flecks of white paint. The front gate gave a creaking envoi before busting from its rusted hinges and clattering to the ground. The two story house and yard fared no better. While appearing structurally sound, the exterior of the house showed signs of decay on the siding with large strips of peeling paint and the roof gently dipping in certain locations. Messy patches of dormant bermuda grass scattered the lawn; while tall weeds choked the few flowers in the flowerbeds that outlined the house. The lattice siding under the porch had a hole gnawed through it; a canine's muzzle and reflective eyes poked through but disappeared in a flash as they approached. Front porch floor boards squealed in protest just as loud as the screen door's rattle when they knocked.
Nothing happened, the lights were on inside, but no signs or sounds of life stirred. They knocked again, this time louder, still nothing. Swindle sighed, of course this was his luck, their last lead and hope turned into a dud; he felt the full and exhausted anger from the four pair of eyes glaring at him.
Something rustled in the weeds behind Vortex, loud enough to draw his attention from the bickering of his commander and the con artist; and, entice him to slide over the porch railing into the overgrown flower bed. He rummaged through the foliage but suddenly wished he hadn't. Sharp pain pierced his shin and he flailed backwards as an enraged barnyard fowl sprung from its hiding place. The quarrel on the porch had ceased as he came under attack; Brawl broke into a gut busting laugh.
The rooster clawed the ground with one leg like it were revving an engine and emitted a shrill crow before charging at the decepticon's face. Vortex shielded himself from the oncoming spurs as he made a backwards scrabble into the property's trash cans. One of his hands madly searched the top of the bins and yanked one of the lids in front of him, like a ghetto Captain America. The metal lid loudly rang as the bird repeatedly launched a flurry of feathered attacks,
Footsteps thundered behind the front door and an elderly gentleman whisked by the combaticons watching on the porch. The man hobbled down the steps waving his cane before snatching a garden hose and rotating the faucet on full blast. "Mr. Pepper! Stop that racket and get back in the coop with the hens!" He shot the rooster with the jet stream of water, which also drenched Vortex in the process. The metal lid clanged to the ground as Vortex shivered in his soaked outfit while the fowl fluttered a retreat into the darkness.
The stranger switched off the water and removed his bifocals to wipe the droplets from them with his shirt. As he perched them back on his nose, he flinched in startelement at the four men idling at his front door. The motley group were quite the sight; their clothes soiled in mud and sweat, short hair matted and cow licked, and all slouched as if they were about to keel over. They looked like they had seen shit, no scratch that, they had been through shit, cow shit, it literally splattered their clothes. With an uneasy grin he removed a device from his ear, fiddled with the gadget, and promptly shoved it back in,"Why howdy gentlemen. Can I help ya this fine even'n?" he said in wavering voice.
A tap from Onslaught's boot snapped Swindle from his surreal trance, "Good evening sir, we pardon the late night intrusion but the clerk at the motel pointed us in your direction. My comrades and I have had the misfortune of our car engine combusting along the highway far out of town and had to travel here to get signal to call a tow truck. We are stuck in town till it's fixed and the motel is booked for some festival. The man there said a room was open for tenants here?"
Taken aback, the man flexed his jaw before responding tentatively, "Wwwhy yes, my wife is offer'n two of our rooms for rent; she was hoping for more of a family with kids but I'm sure we can help you with your current predicament. Name's Gilbert, Gilbert 'll had supper yet?" he asked as he shook the former Jeep's hand and scanned the weary group shaking their heads.
The old man chuckled, "Come on in and I'll get the Mrs. and she can discuss rent with ya; she's gotta stew on the burner that should be ready soon." He hobbled on his cane to the door but balked in front of Onslaught and hastily adjusted his glasses with a wide gape. "Marc? Marc Willingham is that you? I don't believe it, where have you been!"
The old man closed in, his smelly breath making Onslaught crinkle his nose in annoyance and glance nervously at his subordinates. With a subtle gulp, he raised his nose to the air, "I don't know of this Marc you speak of, my name is.." Scrap what was that name.
"Mr. Jones, this is Rory, our commander of our unit. That's James, Tony, the one soaked in your lawn is Travis, and I'm Carlos," chimed Swindle to the rescue.
The old man's attention swiveled behind him, giving the officer some breathing space, "Military eh, wouldn't happen to be the army?" They all nodded. "Swell, where are all ya'll from?"
Brawl blurted before anyone could stop him, "Cybertron." Swindle's hand clamped over his mouth instantly. Gilbert merely scratched his chin thoughtly, "Okay, nice to meet you fellas." The sound of jaws slamming to the floor rang on the porch.
He faced Onslaught and adjusted his glasses again, "Sorry about that Rory, I just got excited, you look exactly like my son-in-law. He was a Captain in the army rangers and you're the spitting image of him." He suddenly became melancholy and shook his head while directly gazing into Onslaught's eyes and continued sadly, "But no, I see you can't be, he has brown eyes, not as light like yours."
With a shudder as if dispelling the gloom draping over him and in an upbeat voice, "Ya'll come on in, can't have ya on the porch like strangers if you're gonna be staying with us for a while." He yanked the storm door open for them but it broke off its hinges and clattered on the floor boards. "Pay no mind tah that, I'll fix it later."
The impression outside of the house vastly differed from the inside. It had a quaint, rustic charm about it and exhibited regular cleaning and maintenance. French plaid curtains framed the windows, autumn floral print furniture occupied the rooms, crocheted doilies on the coffee tables, and wood panel walls. The wife's taste in decor would make any modern day city slicker break into a nervous sweat, let alone five, alien soldiers use to a barriack lifestyle.
The entryway opened to a staircase on the right, with a dining room on the left, and the living room dead ahead. The kitchen connected to the dining room by a small doorway but linked to the living room through a bar window.
"Naomi! We got some people interested in renting your two rooms, come meet em!"
"What!?"
"Turn up your hear'n aid, ya got some folks from ah, ah, from Cincinnati interested in your two rooms!"
Onslaught was in the middle of snagging Swindle by the collar but the subordinate shrugged and mouthed 'I don't know' as Gilbert offered them the seats around the dining table. An elderly, woman, adorned in a floral and lace apron, shuffled out of the kitchen with a shout, "Why that's just wonderful, how many little ones do they…...have…" Her demeanor chilled several degrees as she took in the sight of them through her thick, lense glasses. "Gentlemen," she tried to continue through gritted teeth but failed upon noticing the trail of mud from the front door to their boots residing under her dining table. The younger one soiled her chair cushion with contaminated water.
Her husband started again, oblivious to the tense air, "Dear, these fellas have had ah very bad mishap on the highway, their car caught on fire and they had to travel by foot all the way into town, on account that no one would give em a ride. The hotel is full with the festival and all, and they need ah place to stay for ah while."
The woman's expression seemed to soften at the mention of their destitution and disappeared back into the kitchen while muttering 'poor dears'. She came back with a notebook and tray with five glasses of water on it, that she placed before them. As she hobbled into her chair at the head of table, she willed a sense of composure, "I do apologize of the cold shoulders you have received, but you won't find that in this house. The good lord taught us how to be 'good samaritans' and we shall do just so." The five exchanged looks on what the slag she just said and what the slag they had gotten themselves into. The old man had retreat to his armchair in the living to resume watching his program.
"Now," Naomi scribbled in her book, "I do have two rooms gentlemen, but only three beds, one king and a bunk bed, unfortunately two would need to share and one of you," she glared out of the corner of eye at Swindle, "would have to sleep in the barn."
Brawl shrugged his shoulders, "At this point I just want a place to recharge, barn doesn't sound too bad."
Naomi began the motion to protest but thought better and instead replied, "I don't think I could put you through that much trouble deary, there should be some spare blankets and a pillow around here."
She scribbled in her book further, "Now, how long will you be staying with us?"
Onslaught's boot tapped Swindle's leg again; the arms dealer perked in alert. "Well ah…. the…. tow truck needs to get our vehicle and assess the damage and the amount of time it will take. Could be a couple of days that we're stuck here."
"Oh? In that case I'll charge by the day instead of a month, and for a little extra I can include meals."
Swindle was about to protest when Onslaught's heel pressed into his toes and gave him a stern nod. "That….sounds reasonable, meals sound good."
"Splendid," chirped the old woman as she passed the combaticons their invoice, "Now here is the first night and dinner, will that be cash or check?"
Vortex passed the sheet to Swindle who went white as a ghost, not that it was expensive, just the reality of losing money finally caught up with him. Onslaught dredged a card out of his pocket and slid it across the table to the former Jeep.
Naomi shook her head, "No, no I don't have anything to accept cards, cash or check." Onslaught glanced back at his greedy subordinate who had yet to tear his forlorn stare from the document in front of him. A sharp kick seemed to do the trick. "Huh what?"
"She can't take cards she said."
Swindle tensed for a second, "Well, that's all we have at the moment until I can access my account or an ATM tomorrow."
Naomi cocked a brow; Onslaught passed the card further to her, "Hang onto it until we can get to the bank tomorrow. As a sign of trust and goodwill."
She eye the card, "Then I would believe you would have no qualms about accompanying us to church tomorrow I presume?"
What the slag was a church! The combaticon leader chose his next words carefully. "I would prefer if we could rest and recuperate tomorrow."
Naomi's eyes narrowed, "You may rest in my house without us when I get my payment."
The combaticon leader grimaced, this woman wouldn't budge but whatever a church was couldn't be too bad. "Your house, your rules, we'll accompany you to church."
Vortex passed the card to the elderly human who snatched it like a hawk and tucked it in her apron. Swindle glared at his leader like a kicked puppy, which in turn earned him another kick under the table.
"Well gentlemen that settles it, supper should be ready soon, the bathroom is down the hallway under the stairs, you can wash up and shower, does my husband need to help you caring in your bags?"
"Nah, we don't have any, we lost everything we owned in the fire," grumbled Brawl.
"We have the clothes on our backs and that debit card," finished Swindle, hoping his glare would make the former tank shut up before leading them to major trouble. Vortex and Blastoff had the wisdom to stay silent during all of this. Their new land lady gave a soft gasp with a hand over her heart, "Oh you poor dears, had to escape a fire, lost all your belongings, and had to walk all the way here. Please, excuse me gentlemen while I make a phone call."
The moment she disappeared into the kitchen Vortex snagged one of the glasses and downed the contents in two swallows before finishing off another glass on the tray. Brawl, Swindle, and Onslaught leaned over the table with the expectation that he would throw up like up like under the bridge. The tension hung in the air, like watching someone trying not trigger a booby trap by guessing the gold idol's weight and replacing it with a bag of sand. A small hiccup escaped the interrogator; he gave a sloppy thumbs up before collapsing into the back of his chair and rolling his eyes into the back of his head.
Brawl grimaced at his glass as his leader and leg counterpart grabbed their's and each gave a light sip. Their pupils seemed to dilate in an epiphytic state before chugging the rest. "Hmmm, it's better than the river," mused Brawl, wishing his cup would refill instantly.
"Yeah, keep an eye out how she is getting it, I could use another," Swindle glanced behind him to make sure they were out of earshot from the human couple. "Also, Brawl if you make another dumb statement like on the porch, you'll get us alienated."
"I would prefer if we were alienated from these humans, less interaction and prying into our business," snorted Onslaught.
"Ideal in thought but we have to interact for shelter and refueling, and this is a small town, the residents probably know each other. If we act aloof or hostile they could gang up against us and spell trouble."
Onslaught nodded in thought, "If that is the case, our problem stems from that not all in the team having superior lying capabilities."
"Why are we whispering," said Vortex, "I don't think these people have very good hearing." The three directed annoyed glares at him.
The arms dealer nervously drummed his fingers, "A trick with lying is to have one or two short and simple lies and only when you need them. Too many and you can't keep your story straight; the more important thing to do is to tell the truth but not the whole truth. Truth is easier to remember and to be consistent." All stared at him in puzzlement, except Blastoff who had succumbed to sleep and lightly drooled on the table with an arm propping his head.
"I'm serious, the only lie I have told is that our transportation caught on fire. Think, we did have to walk into town, we are in the army, you are our commander, and the only thing we have are the clothes on our back. They don't need to know the details or context, they'll make it up."Onslaught reflected in astonishment while Brawl tilted his head in frustrated thought.
A shriek from the kitchen jostled them from their private conversation."Papa! Where's Joshlynn?"
"In the barn cleaning the stalls, she should be in soon, she's probably hungry," shouted from the living room.
"Go call her, dinner is ready, and she should meet our new guests," Naomi reappeared from the kitchen with three more glasses and a pitcher of water. The sounds of moans, footsteps, and joints popping traveled out the living room and to the back porch. "Sorry about dearlies, our hearing isn't what it use to be, we ain't shouting in anger," said Naomi as she refilled all the glasses and went back for a few bowls of stew.
"Do you boys want crackers with yours?"
"Uhhhhhh sure, I uh, I have never had any with stew before." Swindle casually nudged his head to indicate his teammates of another half truth instance.
"Never had crackers with stew before? I ain't never heard that one and.. oh," she cleaned her spectacles, "I could have sworn that pitcher was full of water and I had refilled your drinks. Guess my old mind is slipping." She dragged the jug back to the sink while her guests tried to maintain their composure with cheeks full of water.
Blastoff jerked awake as the old woman nudged a bowl before him, Gilbert had returned and took a seat at the head of the table next to his wife, "Fellas, I'd like you to meet my one and only granddaughter, Joshlynn." He gestured to the looming figure behind them, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
A tall, scrawny teenager, in tattered flannel with dusty, blonde hair in a messy half updo, glowered at them. Clenched in her hand was a brown akubra.
"Now Joshlynn, these folks came from Cincinnati and will be stay'n with us till their car's been fixed from the fire they had. Make 'em feel at home; they're in the army so ya can probably relate to them since ya grew up on a base. Probably got a few crazy stories don't ya, fellas?"
"Uh yeah, many crazy battles," stuttered Brawl. Swindle gave him an encouraging grin.
Joshlynn glared at Gilbert as if he were a rabid skunk and reluctantly snatched the chair next to Vortex and sat as far away from him as the table leg would allow. An uneasy smile formed on Naomi's face. "Well isn't that nice, dear let us say grace." She and her husband both bowed their heads and the old man began a string of foreign mummers and praises to someone they could not see in the room.
The five soldiers traded wide eyed stares at the bizarre practice. Swindle shook his head and mouthed, 'I have no slagging clue'; Vortex shrugged as Brawl became more anxious. Once again Onslaught gave up trying to understand the situation, rolled his eyes, and made an attempt to mentally separate himself from everyone at the table.
But that proved difficult, something was watching him, those yellow eyes? No, just the teenager that sat diagonally across the table from him. He shot her an intimidating glare but she further narrowed her eyes and cracked her knuckles at him. He scoffed at her audacity.
"Amen." finished Gilbert, his smile slipped when he noticed his granddaughter's stance. "Joshlynn, don't stare it's rude. I know what ya thinking, I thought the same thing, the resemblance is striking, but this is Rory. He is the commander of this group, " he popped a spoonful of beef and carrots in his mouth. Joshlynn hadn't broken eye contact and gave a low snarl at Onslaught.
"Joshlynn," Naomi steered the exchange to a more appropriate dinner conversation," how was your session with Pastor Keith?"
The girl quickly scooped chunks of potatoes and shoveled them in her mouth. "Mmm hmmmm," she nodded, avoiding the women's eyes.
"Good, what did you discuss?"
The girl sped the number bites she shoved in her cheeks and shrugged, it was a wonder she could breath with how fast the silverware moved.
"Well if you're not going to elaborate then introduce yourself to everyone."
The granddaughter's eyes shifted from side to side suspiciously.
"That's not necessary," quipped Vortex, "we met earlier. She ran me over with her horse out on the prairie while we were trying to reach town."
The woman's jaw unhinged in a large gape; the girl choked on her meal. "Young lady, is this true?" she hissed. Her answer came in silence. The woman's eyes narrowed, "Joshlynn, you didn't even go to Pastor Keith's today did you."
"Mmmmmm mmm mmmm mmmmmmmmmmmm dinner is delicious grammie but I'm full," said Joshlynn, the first time they had heard her speak.
"Joshlynn."
"Well I better finish my homework and hit the hay, night!" She gave a loud belch and sprinted across the dining room and up the stairs.
"Joshlynn, young lady get back here!," Naomi wiped her mouth with her napkin and hastily folded it, "I apologize gentlemen, please continue with your meal. Joshlynn, you get back down here right NOW!" Her hobbled footsteps reverberated up the stairs and loud banging against a wooden door rang upstairs.
"Welcome to the family boys," grumbled Gilbert as he snatched his bowl and retreated back to his armchair in the living room and resumed his program.
They sat awkwardly bewildered at the table, the humans had been so preoccupied with their rebellious granddaughter, that they failed to notice that the combaticons hadn't even touched their food. Except Vortex, he happily munched as if nothing had transpired and nonchalantly grabbed Joshlynn's bowl and began eating out of it after he finished his. "What are you guys looking at, she isn't coming back for it. I've been starving all day, and it's actually good."
"How do you know what to do!"
"Simple, I watched the girl."
Swindle tentatively took a bite, mulled it in his cheek, and happily began dunking two crackers at once in his; while Brawl skipped the spoon and reenacted feeding time at the zoo. Blastoff twirled his utensil clockwise in his bowl but ultimately chose to ignore the organic matter. It became more obvious as Vortex cautiously scooted it from out under his nose. The interrogator paused after he received a kick from Swindle but both cocked a brow when Blastoff didn't react.
"Hey Blasty, you hungry?"
"I'm fine."
Vortex rolled his eyes, shoved the bowl back into Blastoff's hands, loudly scraped a chunk of beef, promptly jammed it between the shuttle's lips, and handed him the utensil. The navigator almost spat out the food but made a few chews before scraping his spoon in his bowl for another bite.
During all of this, Onslaught observed his subordinates' bizarre behavior and Brawl's gross habits, and reached for his utensil. Such an odd device to aid in refueling but his group adopted it like a seeker learning to fly after watching the younger human. The aromia permeating from the grub had a strong, savory feel that involuntarily made his torso grumble and mouth salvate. He was about to dip his spoon when he noticed Vortex watching with a toothy grin, "This'll be good."
Onslaught slammed his spoon down, "Can I help you with something?"
"No, just be sure to thoroughly chew your food, boss."
The commander gave an unamused brow.
"It's not a liquid like energon, gotta use the bones on your jaw to tear it up."
"I can see that, especially Brawl choking after inhaling his meal."
"Well if you don't want to stoop so low to eating like a human, you can give it…."
"You're not getting my food Vortex," said Onslaught sternly that made the interrogator sulk in his seat and face Blastoff, hoping the larger man would get full before finishing the bowl and he would get the rest. Their first time having a meal as humans made Onslaught grateful that the three humans had left the room, Naomi might have had a heart attack due to their table manners.
While energon could vary from sweet, tangy, and bitter, it had one consistency; the organic meal filling his cheeks produced a wild assortment of flavors and textures that assaulted his tongue and put his senses on overload.
Meanwhile, Vortex had lost the fight over Naomi's bowl with Brawl and now watched Onslaught's like a dingo watching a human baby.
Naomi returned after they had finished their supper and any other unattended bowls. She seemed too flustered and agitated with her granddaughter to notice her missing soup. Instead she carried a pile of folded laundry and lead them to the hallway under the stairs. At the end sat the door to the bathroom; the doors to their two rooms lay adjacent on either side of it. The one on the left, intended for parents of a family, consisted of a king size bed, an antique vanity, and floral wallpaper. The kid friendly dinosaur wallpaper slowly peeled in the 'children's room'; which had a bunk bed and bookshelf filled with books ranging from beginner to highschool and an incomplete encyclopedia set. Brawl and Swindle frowned uncomfortably with the knowledge that Onslaught and Blastoff would get the other dwelling and that they would be stuck here with Vortex for a roommate; who at that moment called for top bunk.
From the pile of garments came a sleeping bag and pillow for Tony or Carlos; the rest were assorted pairs of what Naomi called pajamas that she found unused in her husband's closest. She gave specific instructions that there should be plenty of towels in the bathroom cupboard for them, to leave their dirty day clothes in a pile in the hallway, and that she hoped they had a peaceful night before leaving them be.
As soon as she had left, Onslaught whisked the door shut and pointed to the pile of pajamas. "What are we supposed to do with these?"
Everyone eerily and simultaneously turned to Swindle.
"Why do you keep relying on me. I don't know, but those are clean and would feel better than this get up."
"Well we're stuck in this getup so deal with it."
Vortex tugged on the front of his shirt and poked his nose in the collar. He could see the bare flesh of his torso and that the shirt merely draped over him, instead of being welded. He tugged on his pant legs and felt the fabric scape and shift along his skin and while snug against the waist, it wasn't actually attached to him. "I think these things act similar to our armor, it covers us but isn't part of our protoform."
"If this is human armor, it sucks at defending from bullets and explosions," said Brawl.
"I said it acts similar in that 'it isn't a part of us and can be removed', I think this just offers minor cover from the outside elements and hides our undercarriage."
"Hides our undercarriage?"
"Yeah, you wouldn't run around in public back on cybertron in the protoforms, showing all your wires and capacitors?"
Brawl snorted, "Of course not! I'd punch you in the face plates for looking at me wrong but I'm not a creep exposing my circuit boards! Not like you!"
"You're just jealous I have better hardware than you."
Swindle at that moment grabbed his shoe and removed it and the sock from his extremity and waggled his toes at the ground assault warrior.
"Slag it Swindle! That is revolting, I don't need to see that!" Snarled Brawl, glancing to the side as the offending appendage scooted closer to his face.
"Just imagine how vile we all look under the rest of our clothes," said Vortex in an eerie high pitched voice with a cheshire grin.
Blastoff uncomfortably squirmed and Onslaught felt his skin prickle up his spine.
Swindle rolled his eyes and strode over to the pajama pile and held a shirt up for size comparison., "Removing the articles on your pedes is fine if you're not in public; however, the ones on your torso and lower extremities do in private. Now if all of you don't mind, I call first on the shower," as he left the room.
A sharp shriek omitted from the bathroom but nothing else followed until the vibration of rushing water rattled the adjoining wall. As the first showered, Vortex chucked the largest pair of sleepwear at Blastoff, who absentmindedly ran his fingers through the fabric. The three browsed through the pile, searching for prefered color schemes to their previous paint jobs. When their comrade returned, another took his place; Onslaught had made it clear his men acquired a shower first with him last to make sure his team were taken care. Secretly, he meant to postpone his, the adventures in his new body were unsetting already and a shower meant removing his garments and seeing more of this disgusting bag of flesh.
As his subordinates filed and completed their exterior cleansing, Onslaught made a note that each time one of them entered the bathroom, a short screech or bellowing holler tore from the neighboring room. Except on Blastoff's trip, instead multiple grunts, poorly pronounced cybertronian curses, and loud slamming echoed from the bathroom. Onslaught was just about to knock on the hall door, when a disgruntled figured shoved it open from the other side. Hair completely drenched, and shirt buttoned crookedly, Blastoff's hobbled disorientedly to the other bedroom door and slammed it behind him. The only trace of proof that the event occured was the puddles connecting the two doors.
The oddities of the day refused to cease; Onslaught shook his head and pushed past the door only to catch a shriek in his throat and restain his arm from swinging at the stranger inside. But not quite a stranger, he knew him, but didn't recognize him at first with his dark brunette hair peppered with gray, high cheekbones, and the presumption of five o'clock shadow.
He waved a hand before him and the man's mimicked the action; he pat his head, again so did the man. On closer inspection he could see bright amber eyes, almost the shade of gold, gaze right back at him. Well that explained Swindle's, Brawl's, and Vortex's panicked screams earlier. The mirror just intensified the awkwardness of the situation, him did not need to see his nude form and to top it off, nothing like trying to figure out how someone else's shower worked without feeling like an idiot.
Back in the 'children's' bedroom, the yoke of Brawl's loungewear tore as it attempted to contain his broad shoulders, thus making him appear as if he had settled down from an Incredible Hulk episode.
"This sucks."
Swindle muttered a muffled 'yes' from under the pillow planted on his face. Vortex sat above swinging his feet over the edge, "On the contrary, it's not all bad." The arms merchant peered from under his bunk in agitation, "I swear Tex, if you don't stop."
"I hope Megatron gets fragged by a quintesson."
The other two flinched, exspecting waves of immense pain. Nothing happened and Vortex's slag eating grin increase.
"No loyalty programming."
All three pairs of eyes brightened and twinkled. "Frag decepticon headquarters and that silver tyrannical glitch!"
"Slag following orders!"
"I'd personally set the Nemesis on fire myself!"
"I declare mutiny!"
"Starscream already did that with us, may he have his spark torn out and have it shoved up Shockwave's exhaust pipe."
"May Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave all get scrapped by the Autobots."
"I am my own meche and don't have to listen to ludacris plans given by inept commanders."
"THE LOYALTY PROGRAMMING MAY BE GONE BUT I AM YOUR COMMANDER AND YOU WILL FOLLOW ORDERS," roared outside the bedroom door.
The three hunkered under their covers and emitted low chuckles and giggles; they indulged in their shared bashing of their fellow deceptions when they felt sure that 'death's' presence had passed over them.
Those insolent glitches and their insubordination, one day he'd make them into real soldiers. Luckily the humans were upstairs in bed and the two elder ones had poor hearing so hopefully they didn't hear his outburst. He rubbed his temples and dragged himself to the king sized bed. Blastoff snored through his mouth on top of the comforter; at least the navigator was on his side of the bed. Onslaught burrowed under the blankets and glared up at the ceiling. His body ached, if he got his body back he needed to delete the shower experience from his memory files; and, now the mutanious chanting in the room across the hall was on the rise again.
"KNOCK IT OFF YOU SON OF AH BITCHES," shouted from the ceiling accompanied by stomping. Great, and the brat resided directly upstairs from him, at least she got them to shut up, for a moment. How had this happened to him, of course the role of the a commander had difficulties, but with this motley group and now unbelievable circumstances, no amount of officer's school and training could provide him with help.
Actually during his school days he dismissed most of his professors and mentors words as nothing more than elder veterans' senile war ramblings. Somewhere in his memory resided a bit of wisdom or something they had said; some vital bit of evidence which eluded him but could help him weather through this. The more he sank in the soft pillow and mattress, the more his mind slipped into recharge; and, recharge promised freedom from all responsibilities, problems, and duties for tomorrow for the next several breems. He glanced at the window, maybe with a clear head tomorrow inspiration or a sliver of wisdom would come to him. As he drifted off, a faint yellow glow shined through the window, but disappeared as it traveled upward, then the roof creaked.
The Combaticons have finally found a place to rest, but what does tomorrow hold for them? Can they accept other organic functions, what is a church, can they survive under the same roof with humans, and what is wrong with Blastoff?! Found out in the next installment!
Thanks for reading, I hope you got a kick out of this, and as always reviews are never taken for granted.