Who causes more trouble for the combaticons, themselves or those around them?
*Cracks knuckles* Okay, now to the fun parts of our anti-heroes trying to blend in as humans. But small town folk never make it easy, how will they fare? Also for folks who have been asking what is wrong with Blastoff, finally the shocking conclusion!
Also some things I should clear up, I have this set after 'Aerial Assault' but they are in more modern times, I will also be making references to some of the comic books story arcs; and lastly my main view on this is that the combaticons did not know each other before Starscream freed them.
Disclaimer: I don't own transformers, Onslaught, Brawl, Swindle, Vortex, or Blastoff. But all of the human characters are of my creation based on people I have known, their view points do not reflect my own.
Thanks to my editors. Also special thanks to my hubby, who at times took the reins and wrote Vortex's scenes. It's almost as if he were... *quickly stares out the window to the backyard and sees her husband digging a large hole next to a large bag* I'm sure he's just planting some flower beds for me.
A light with no origin cast its beam upon him and a five meter radius of the surrounding area. No matter how far he walked, the dark, black abyss of nothingness expanded in all directions; but he kept going. The indeterminable floor clanked softly as if metal struck it. With a pause he inspected his pedes, his servos tracing his helm, pauldrons, and missile backpack. He had his root form back! But where to the pit and back was he?.
When he pressed forward something materialized in the distance, three shapes. As he cautiously approached, they revealed to be two chairs and a table supporting a chess board with pieces for one player. But the pieces didn't resemble typical human chess pieces and for starters there were only four on the board instead of sixteen.
Each appeared to be a hand carved wooden miniature of a North American creature, and all were what seemed to be frozen in a scuffle. He identified the largest piece as a disgruntled elk rearing on its hind legs to avoid a mid swipe from a snarling grizzly bear piece. A jay miniature nestled uncomfortably in the elk's rattled antlers while a raven figurine raised its wings behind the elk with its beak wide open as if screeching taunts.
What kind of a chess game was this and what were the allowed plays for each odd piece? As if not to answer his question but baffle him further, the raven carving hovered above the other three and swooped in a figure of eight, its pose seemed to amplify its mock. A rumbling cackle snapped his attention to the chair across from him. A pair of disembodied yellow eyes glared back at him and bounced as if its invisible head bobbed from sneering laughter that shook from its body. The cackling crescendo and the sounds of knocking on wood joined in.
"GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU AWAKE?!"
With a sharp gasp Onslaught's eyes bolted open to greet the sunshine illuminating the bedroom. A knock rattled the door, "Hello? You boys up? Church is in an hour, I cleaned, ironed, and folded your laundry, it's at the door. Get dressed and ready, we have jam and biscuits at the table," came Naomi's voice on the other side.
"Uh, yes we'll be right out," he stuttered while trying to filter what just happened and where he was while the elder woman screeched the same statement at the other bedroom door. He waited for her footsteps to echo down the hall before sliding out of bed and prying the door ajar like one would if they were expecting the mormons to bombard the porch.
Blastoff and his clothes laid folded at his feet. Across the hall, the other bedroom door creaked open and an arm flopped out. It fondled and tested the laundry outside its door before it transformed into a wild claw, snatched the pile, and dragged the clothes into the bowels of the bedroom like a trap door spider. Not knowing of his subordinate's morning behavior, the arm could have belonged to any of those three.
Blastoff barely stirred as Onslaught foisted the pile on his feet. The combaticon leader rattled the bed frame, nothing. Not even a loud and clear 'attention' command disturbed the navigator; odd, he would have never guessed Blastoff as a heavy recharger. Time to alter tactics that included physical force without getting too close. A quick search under the bed produced a wooden cane that he jabbed Blastoff in the rear like a child tormenting a large sleeping animal. "Get up!"
"Swear I wasn't loitering!" The large man loudly muttered in a daze and violently flailed in a roll across the top of the bed, the comforter cocooning him. Another jab from the cane sent the newly formed blanket burrito floundering like a fish off the bed.
"Blastoff, get up. Our landlady requires us to attend church with her."
"James," murmured the burrito.
"What?"
"Get use to the charade, we need to remain in character Rory."
The combaticon commander snorted a scoff as the burrito struggled to rise but instead slammed his head into the night stand. The once graceful shuttle bumbled on the floor like a fat elephant seal.
"Pull yourself together Blast…...James, I'm going to change in the bathroom and I'll let you have it next before the degenerates wreck it with their…" He had managed to step through the threshold of the bedroom door but slammed into something solid in the way. Two agitated brown eyes peered up at him.
"Can I help you," Onslaught seethed at the young girl. The teenager stumbled to her feet without breaking her hundred yard glare in his eyes. Is this what she did all the time?
"I know your," Onslaught paused. What was that term used to describe the relationship between the young and elder humans? "Your authority figures told you it's impolite to stare."
The frown she wore turned into a scowl, Onslaught's brow arched in annoyance and crossed his arms.
"Come now, silent treatments after being addressed are considered impolite as well. I know you have the capacity to produce speech."
His answer came in the form of a gruff snort as she pushed past him to enter the door frame. She pulled something from her back pocket and leaned over the threshold as if she were peering over a cliff. A whistle similar to when one wanted to call their dog emitted from her front teeth. Blastoff's head poked over from behind the bed and stared cluelessly in the direction that sound came from. Joshlynn stretched out her arm and waggled the item, beckoning him to come take it. Blastoff made no inclination to Joshlynn's presence and this prompted her to whistle again and erratically wave her arm.
"Yes, well if you don't mind, we need to get dressed. I'll be taking that thank you," the combaticon commander snatched the article from her fingers and scooted her out into the hall before slamming the door in her face.
"Who was that and what did they want?" Blastoff asked as he managed to take a seat on the bed.
"Hmm, uh that was the younger human that lives here." Onslaught fiddled with the device she had tried to entice Blastoff with. It contained two glass lens bound in a wire frame. Upon unfolding two wings to either side, he realized it was identical to the contraption both elder humans wore on their faces.
"So what did the mute juvenile want?"
Onslaught peered through the glass, "She was trying to present you something."
Blastoff scoffed, "Present to me? As if it has anything acceptable to offer. I have you know…"
"Hang on, hold still for one moment," he slid the wings over the navigator's ears and perched the lens along the bridge of his nose.
Blastoff jerked his head back and madly blinked before wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Slag you look hideous!"
Onslaught gave him an irritated scowl.
"Really, have you not seen yourself?!"
"Yes I have had the misfortune, but have you not seen yourself? Please enjoy the moment when it's your turn."
Blastoff glared back down at his hands and ran his finger tips along the slashes on his palms. "I had hoped yesterday was a bizarre recharge sequence like what the humans call a dream. But just the odd taste of the food is something I could never have imagine. Even the eerie, over sensitive touch sensation threw me off with the blurry shapes of color. Thought Vortex had messed with my optics while in recharge."
"Everything was blurry to you yesterday?"
"Like trying to stare out a window covered in heavy rain or thick ice. Or someone with poor motor skills attempting to recreate a Monet painting.
"Wait, wait Blastoff…"
"James."
"Don't start that to dodge this, you were unable to functionally see yesterday, and never mentioned it?"
A silent scowl answered him.
"Blastoff that was a stupid and dangerous move, we were lucky we reached this town alive. I need my soldiers in peak performance, we were depending on you yesterday to navigate us and instead you keep this to yourself, wandered aimlessly, and even manage to sustain some minor damage." He indicated to the gashes.
The former shuttle scoffed, "I've had enough pestering from Swindle and Vortex on my form, I don't need additional provocation from you."
Onslaught crossed his arms and loomed over the man, his height and stature bearing down even though Blastoff could have easily stood over him if he chose to. "Any mech under my command is a vital member of my squad and when one is incapacitated, I need to know so he can receive help and so the other members can bear the load."
Blastoff raised an eyebrow as Onslaught leaned forward and glared him in the eye, "I have no need for useless mechs, if you have a problem and don't notify me and you hinder the team or become permanently incapacitated, I will replace you."
"Replace me? I wish you luck in finding another decepticon that has a space travel altmode and is compatible with the Bruticus merging program."
"I would prefer not to replace you, you are by far the most concordant and prudent when compared to the other three."
"That's not saying much and I'm a bit insulted that you'd compare them to me."
"BUT, if it means protecting four lives compared to one, I will take those odds for the better of the team. You can be part of the team or struggle on your own. Also choose which you prefer: Vortex antagonizing you while blind or when you can see so you can have an accurate shot."
Blastoff remained motionless in deep consideration while Onslaught attempted to exit the bedroom again.
"Rory, I mean Onslaught," his commander paused at the door knob, "How did the girl know I needed glasses?"
Onslaught shrugged, "No clue, it just showed up at our door with them. To be truthful, watching it makes me think of Ravage in a way. You have no idea what the glitch is thinking about and can't tell if it is scared of you or going to lash out."
"I thought glitch was a name only reserved for Vortex."
"Normally yes but this…. as you called juvenile seems to have something wrong with it, it keeps staring at me."
"Hmmm, perhaps a form of PTSD?"
"I doubt it has had any military or combat experience to warrant that outcome."
"Well I did hear the elder human remark that you look like its' father. Perhaps it is merely confused"
Onslaught scowled at the sniper, "These creatures truly have the dumbest habits, it's a wonder that they have survived this long in the universe at all. Also how do you know all of this?"
"You have me orbit the planet for hours or even days on end to spy or wait to eliminate a target; It's not as thrilling as it sounds. I spend most of my time reading from this world's planetary data network to the point that I've exhausted all topics that interest me and now read whatever I can find to stave off the boredom."
"I see," pondered the decepticon leader but made another attempt to leave the bedroom again, only to be greeted by Vortex's grinning face. "Hello fearle..," a calloused hand gripped the front of Vortex's shirt and yanked him up so he balanced on the tips of his boots.
"Blastoff errrr James, on second thought, you change in the bathroom first. I want to have a chat with Vortex here.
The sound of bare feet casually strode behind him and to his left into the bathroom, followed by a startled hollar. He looked to see Blastoff frozen in front of the mirror, wide eyed and slowing stroking the stubble along his jawline with his finger tips. The sniper's pupils shifted to focus on his leader's gaze, who shot back a 'get use to it' look before dragging the interrogator into the bedroom.
"Oh please don't be gentle Rory, I like it rough"
"Shut it you sick glitch," he released the young man's shirt. "I'm setting ground rules for you. I've been through enough slag already before being tossed in this body and so help me if you give me any more grief I will end you."
"Are you sure that's wise?" asked Vortex, "Megatron would be quite displeased if he loses the ability to summon Bruticus because of your temper."
"We can't form Bruticus now, so it changes nothing. We don't even know how or if we can get our original forms back and if I'm stuck in this form because of you, you will die as a fleshling," he snarled in his underling's face.
Vortex eerily remained still and quiet.
"Now, make yourself useful and find a way to contribute to the team. Can't think of one, find me I'll give you one. But, if you create trouble among the humans or start dysfunction among the team like you did yesterday, then I will terminate you myself." He loomed over the interrogator, "That. Is. a. promise. Do I make myself clear?"
The interrogator stood with a poker face, "Who is this Vortex you speak of, he seems like a rad guy. By the way, the name's Travis."
"Vortex!"
"Jawohl mein führer!" He gave a mock nazi salute while walking backwards to the door.
"I didn't dismiss you yet, get back here!"
"Toodles!" he grinned before swiftly exiting.
The former anti-aircraft truck clenched and unclenched his fists as the door slammed. He needed the other three's optics to keep an eye on the glitch and he needed leverage or blackmail quickly to hold above the copter's head. After having a chat with one and threatening to abandon the other two, they should start working in his favor. An agitated exhale escaped him as he locked the door and began digging out his teal shirt. Better to change in here without a mirror.
Meanwhile, from the dining room down the hall came the aroma of baked goods and coffee. The table, picturesque of southern hospitality, offered an assortment of sweet buttery biscuits snuggled in a warm basket next to jars of marmalade, jam, jelly, honey, and butter. A saucer of piping hot white gravy sat next to a plate consisting of fresh grapes, strawberries, and bananas; while a pitcher of ice water and a carafe of hot coffee sat by a cluster of mugs.
Gilbert's knuckles peaked out on either side of the Sunday morning edition at the head of the table, occasionally an old, withered hand reached out for a sip of columbian coffee or bite of his breakfast. His granddaughter sat at his right, her chair pressed as close to him as the table leg would allow.
Occasionally glancing over at her new roommates, she was clearly uncomfortable with their fixated gazes. Apparently Vortex's advice of watching her on the proper way to consume organic material had sunk in for Swindle and Brawl. Both had followed her example on their first biscuit but now Swindle seemed to take a sample of each condiment for tasting while Brawl slathered his pastry with as much strawberry jelly he could fit on it to satisfy his sweet tooth.
Blastoff had joined them at the table, but seemed hesitant to fill his plate. Only when the gurgling roar of his stomach announced itself at the table did he consider snagging a biscuit, a few strawberries, and a generous cup of coffee; but even then he stalled, obsessively scrutinizing his food and drink to the point that it became embarrassing and creepy. None of them dared to touch a banana out of fear of the unknown.
Joshlynn sat next to her grandfather with her eyes trained on her grammie in the kitchen careful to keep her houseguests in her peripheral vision. This was made more difficult when Vortex took a seat across from her. The decepticon bobbed his head side to side in debate before stuffing his biscuit with grapes and butter and pouring gravy on top to the point of drowning it and the plate. With a fork he stabbed the hodgepodge and stuffed all in his mouth in one bite. Joshlynn leaned forward in amazement, jaw slightly agape as Vortex attempted to hold back tears as his mouth burned.
"What are you, a garbage disposal?"
Vortex tipped his head back and swallowed like a bird getting a drink, the mass of food visibly sliding down his throat like a gerbil crawling through a straw. He exhaled the heat with a choke before replying, "No a garbage disposal would have stuffed more on their plate, I'm a helicopter."
Silverware and plates clanked as the table jolted from a kick from below. Vortex turned to glare at Swindle, only to meet a look of the same caliber. "Helicopter pilot, "hissed Swindle, "Stop trying to confuse her you weirdo." The interrogator scowled and returned fire at the decepticon merchant's legs. Rapid stomping and squeaking boots bellowed under the table between the two, Joshlynn turned to Brawl for an explanation but the former tank seemed unfazed and was in the middle of creating a dagwood sandwich out of biscuits, jam, and strawberries. Gilbert and Blastoff sipped their coffee, oblivious to the ruckus rattling under the dining table.
Onslaught marched down the hall towards them and took a seat at the foot of the table; a gruff grumble in his throat made Swindle freeze and innocently twiddle his thumbs. A boot heel jabbed the merchant's calf as Vortex gave him a victory grin. The combaticon commander shook his head with a groan and turned his attention to his left at Brawl. "How can you be eating again?"
The heavy weapons expert paused with an ashamed look. Vortex groaned, "Come on Ror, we're not out in the field or on duty; there is plenty of food so we don't have to stick to rations. Remember, three square meals a day" The former copter slid the pastry plate down the table. Onslaught grimmanced at the thought of having to continue consuming organic matter to function, also he questioned Vortex's last statement and where the copter had heard that. It was also at this moment said instigator noticed Blastoff's new look, "Hey shuttle butt, how many channels do those things pick up?" Blastoff's eyes narrowed with his scowl as he nursed his mug of coffee and adjusted his glasses but made no other move.
Naomi dottered in from the kitchen doorway in a freshly ironed Sunday dress, clutching her purse in front of her. "Oh my, don't you all look….presentable." She caught herself with an uneasy smile at the sight of Brawl licking the jam from his fingers like a five year old. Her looked quickly transformed into a frown at her granddaughter. "Joshlynn, I thought I told you to get dressed for church young lady."
The corner of Gilbert's newspaper lowered just enough for his right eye to peer over at the scene. "Seriously Joshlynn, we are going to the Lord's house, show some respect."
The teen leaned back in her chair and dramatically waved at the decepticons at the table.
"Young lady! Do not be so disrespectful, they don't have a choice and have nothing else to wear, you on the other hand have no excuse!"
Joshlynn groaned and marched to the coat rack at the front door and snatched a colorful woven poncho that almost covered down to her knees.
"No, I ironed a dress that I ordered for you in a catalog just for this occasion."
"Come on grammie, this a designer poncho and my nicest one. Ain't no one else gonna know what I'm wear'n underneath it, unless they're a nosy sicko."
Naomi scowled, "God will know, also this attitude of yours lately is going to cost you some privileges. You can only drive the truck when taking us to church, you can walk or ride your bike to school; and, you can only ride Bonita in the paddock or cattle pasture. No more distant exploring."
"That's not fair to the horse, she needs exercise."
"Those are our rules young lady."
The teen gave a loud growling whine before snatching her akubra and truck keys while storming out the front door. Naomi scowled at the door but quickly huffed to her composed self. "Sorry, now gentlemen I hope you enjoyed breakfast but we must be on our way. Punctuality is a virtue." She smacked her husband in the shoulder with her purse as she shuffled by; the elder man jerked in surprize but snatched his jacket to chase after her.
"Could we finish breakfast?" asked Swindle.
The old woman shot him a stern glare that prompted a 'move out' from Onslaught. As the five rose to join the humans, Vortex and Brawl hustled to filled their cheeks and pockets with the rest of the biscuits.
The white, pristine, and well maintained building from yesterday turned out to be this so called church. From the pickup bed, they watched a large crowd congregate in the parking lot near the entrance. Onslaught chalked another tally to his score that humans were stupid. If the humans regularly flocked to this building and if held a great importance to them, why paint it such a distinctive colour so easy to bomb from a distance?
The five men had expected some observance of human customs in introductions and socializing, but none were mentally prepared for the clucking gossip amongst the fellowship and Mrs. Jones's lips. The inhabitants of the quiet town buzzed with nosy questions of the new comers and their military service to the point that the five of them huddled in a defensive formation and cornered themselves on the last row to avoid the barrage of human interactions. Onslaught sat at the edge of their blockade, in an effort to deter any conversations away from them. If any of them had to scare off a nosy human, as the leader, it was going to be him. He was at least tactful.
Naomi had followed them and shoved her granddaughter next to him to save the remaining seats between them and the aisle. "No hats inside," she warned and snatched the akubra as she dragged her hapless husband back into the fray. To Onslaught's surprise the girl made a nice buffer between them and the plebeians. He watched repeatedly as one of the other church members would approach them; they would grimace or groan with a shake of their head when they saw the teen and would leave. After the fifth snooper retreated he could see her brown irises peering out of the corners of her eyes, only to quickly snap forward and glare at the podium on the stage.
But the surreal experience didn't end there. After pleasantries were exchanged and the gaggle of homo sapiens found their seats, a withered old man in black suit took center stage and lead the room in worship to an entity that they yet again could not locate in the room. This was followed by more praise in song form where the whole room grabbed a book and rose at his command and sang in a hodgepodge of off key cries with a badly tuned organ. Blastoff and Swindle surprisingly could comprend the leaders instructions with the book and attempted to blend in with the masses. This went poorly on their part as Swindle seemed to read instead of sing and while Blastoff had virtuosic skill, his face paled and his voice falter as it dawned on him exactly what the lyrics were meaning. Vortex curiously peered at the hymn book while this was going on; Brawl and Onslaught quietly stood at a parade rest.
Next the elder leader had his esteemed followers pass out trays of crackers the size of a fingernail and miniature cups of wine. As the trays made their way to their row Naomi leaned over Joshlynn and whispered to them, "Have you boys been baptized?"
Onslaught was taken back by the question and quickly scanned the other combaticons for an answer, Swindle frowned and shrugged. "No."
"Oh, that's too bad, I hope someday you boys find your way," she helped herself to the contents of the trays and passed a cracker and drink to Joshlynn before having Gilbert send the trays back the deacons.
"This is the body of christ, broken for you, eat and remember! And this is the blood of christ, drink and remember the sacrifice he made for your sins!" shouted the preacher.
Vortex's jaw dropped in astonishment, "Whoa, whoa, are they just cannibalizing some dead guys remains just now?" Luckily the call back from the choir drowned out his response except for his comrades ears, and one disgruntled teenager. Blastoff whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Keep your voice down and do not offend these people, I have a feeling it will get ugly fast."
"What do I need to do in order try some of those remains?"
"It's not the actual remains, it's suppose to be symbolic."
"Symbolic? How would you know?"
"I read a lot of this planet's culture in my spare time and I, and I would bet good money on Onslaught, do not want to tangle with this group if things go sour. For the love of Primus, behave."
Vortex grumbled and shot Onslaught a dirty glare for missing out on acts of cannibalism.
"Is he done yet?" muttered Brawl out of the corner of his mouth. Onslaught answered him with a swift elbow to the ribs. The former tank had cost them the image of model citizens earlier due to him falling asleep out of boredom five minutes after the sermon started and releasing a massive snore. They had been forced to sit on the stiff pews for the past hour and a half while the preacher ranted on stage and made accusatory finger gestures.
Brawl was on the verge of dozing off again; Blastoff and Swindle were flipping through a thick book that had B-I-B-L-E on the cover. Onslaught had no idea what the pages contained but the more those two read from it the more their faces' contorted in disgust or discomfort. Strangely Vortex seem interested in the rambling human's message as he leaned forward in keen interest, his eyes sparkling in delight.
Onslaught's stomach lurched uneasily at the sight of him and he refocused his attention to the humans in the sanctuary who were all listening just as attently. The sermon that the preacher screeched held little interest to him but the fact that his followers held onto every word and accepted it as life and law amazed him. The lecure didn't even feel kind, more like threats and promises of harm. How could this fleshbag convince these people to follow him or this deity? Was it fear, making examples out of those that disobeyed, similar to Megatron's method? Could this being even be appeased?
Mr. and Mrs. Jones solemnly nodded in agreement as the rant continued to repeatedly mention the term hell. The only human not paying attention was the teenager uncomfortably seated next to him. She too had a B-I-B-L-E in her lap but had secured the hem of her poncho on her knee; making it billow like a loose sail from the collar to her lap. Thus casually obscuring her grandmother's view of the book and the gameboy color secretly perched on top of it.
Joshlynn flinched as if struck with a blast of cold water and glared up at him. When her pupils locked onto his, she cautiously slid the console under the book and furrowed her brow. As if sensing the hostile energy, Naomi snapped out of her trace and peered over at the two before peering over the pocho barrier. Upon seeing the holy book, she smiled and nuzzled her granddaughter before submerging herself into the sermon again and nudging her husband if she missed anything.
Clever girl, although this felt all too eerily familiar of an incident with Vortex during a squad meeting in which he caught the copter perusing a porn magazine he had hidden in a fusion cannon user manual. After just witnessing the scene before him, Onslaught now had a sneaky suspicion that even after the occurrence and punishment; it wasn't enough to stop the glitch and that he had probably altered his tactics to something more elaborate to avoid detection.
"But remember everyone, despite the fact that we are all terrible sinners and don't deserve salvation, GOD loves you and wants what's best for you. Your verse for the week is Ephesians 5:15-16, practice it well!" finished the pastor as the fellowship began to gather their belongings and make for the exit from the stuffy building.
Vortex jumped over the back of the pew nonchalantly as he left his teammates at the mercy of the second round of questioning; Joshlynn grinned and followed suit despite the frowns from everyone. Mr. Jones seemed to have reached his limit of socializing and lead the others with him; Mrs. Jones did the opposite and went deeper into the church.
While the atmosphere inside was suffocating from too many people, the outside had the sweltering, midday sun. The group's shoes scrapped the pavement as they approached the truck. Vortex layed on top of the pickup's cab, fiddling with his cell phone for signal while Joshlynn sat in the driver's seat with the windows up despite sweat beading her forehead.
A loaded, black trash bag caught Brawl off guard as it was thrusted into his arms. "What in the world?" A stout, middle aged woman with a wide grin appeared from behind it with another full trash bag in hand that she tossed to Swindle, only for it to knock him completely off his feet. Blastoff cocked a brow at her and the timid woman with mousy brown hair and glasses that handed him a loosely packed sack before she shyly retreated to her car.
"Ah thank you ladies," chirped Namoi as she dottered over with the pastor. "Gentlemen, this is Yevette and Sophia, they are in my book club and bible studies. Last night after you mentioned that you had lost your belongs I called them and told of your destitution and they went around town asking for clothes donations." She beamed brighter, "No need to thank me, just doing the Lord's work!"
"Truer word have never been spoken Mrs. Jones and I know the Lord is pleased and smiling down on your work. My he continue to bless your family."
"Oh deary me, gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Pastor Keith. Keith this is James, Tony," her voice faltered with a hint ice, "Carlos, and Travis." Keith gave them a humble nod. "And this is their unit leader Rory who keeps them in line."
Keith reached forward to shake Onslaught's hand with a wide grin, "A great pleasure to meet you sir, it is good to meet the fine men who fight to defend this country from our enemies. We need good leaders to command the military to fight for freedom and our beliefs. You and I have quite a bit in common." Onslaught felt a twinge of agitation prickle across his shoulders and slightly tensed as he shook the elderly man's icy fingers.
"Ah yes yes," Keith nodded and chuckled, "While you are overseas in foreign lands fighting' I am here leading the good christian soldiers to protect our home and upkeep the nation's morals." He continued to absent mindedly shake the decepticon commander's hand.
A twitch of the corners of Onslaught's mouth threatened his stoic disposition as he seethed at the human's audacity to compare them or even to think itself was a real leader. The other combaticons observed with interest with how this would play out. Onslaught snapped his wrist to break off the shake, "Well I shouldn't keep you from your work."
Keith gave a light hearted laugh, "Oh no bother at all, I would very much enjoy discussing with you what the military plans to do to those heathens overseas." He knocked on the driver's window and waved at Joshlynn; she nodded an acknowledgement but made no effort to roll down the window. "Hello Joshlynn, sorry to hear you couldn't make our first appointment but your grammie and I rescheduled, I'll see you soon!"
"Oh she will," chirped Namoi, "It's so good of you to offer to help her with her trials and any inner demons that are giving her trouble."
"Not at all, we all need help, and through Jesus the healing can begin. Now I heard Cave has been kind enough to open the bank on a Sunday so your tenants can pay so I won't keep you any longer." He stood smiling and waving as they exited the parking lot.
Blastoff, Brawl, and Swindle gave Onslaught a wide berth to avoid his icy demeanor that radiated after the exchange with the pastor. Vortex, either oblivious or indifferent to the current situation, remain fixated on the cab's occupants; particularly Joshlynn's trembling hands on the steering wheel.
What passed for downtown on a Sunday afternoon seemed even more deserted than last night, only a car and truck sat in the street. The ford ranger rattled to a halt, Namoi hopped from the cab with Swindle following her. Onslaught motioned Blastoff to join. "Come on, you're going in with us."
"No, I'd rather not."
Onslaught grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered darkly, "You're going in with us, you mentioned that you've read about this planet's culture and I saw you read that book back there. I want you to make sure he doesn't pull anything."
The navigator made no further protest but grimaced in self pity as they entered the Farmers and Merchants bank.
Mr. Johnson, the bank owner stood before the front counter with his hands behind his back, "Gentlemen, let's get your transaction underway and then we can go back to enjoying our Sunday evening."
Swindle activated his professional act, "Oh we won't trouble you, if you'll just point us in the direction of you ATM we'll be on our way."
Mr. Johnson's annoyed demeanor melted into a hearty laugh, "ATM?! I wouldn't be caught dead with an ATM in my building. No, no machine is going to replace a hard working American from their job. Those things just destroy the client-business relationship. I won't have that done to the people of this town." He shook his head as he scoffed. His teller rolled her eyes behind her rhinestone, cat eye frame glasses and twiddled her pearl necklace.
"Cave," soothed Namoi as she passed the card she kept overnight to the teller, who's eyebrows shot over the rim of her glasses upon seeing the bank the card was with, "I know this goes against what the good book says but I really appreciate this, I really need this payment."
The bank owner gave an annoyed sigh, "Let's just get this over quickly, also step into my office, I'd like to discuss with you the lastest account you open with us."
A metallic pen rapped against the counter at the three combaticons. "Which one of you is Carlos Haymer?" She tapped the name on the card with her long, ruby red nails.
The two taller men pointed down at the shorter one who she sized up with a scrutinizing half seductive gaze. "Alright Mr. Haymer, how much are we withdrawing?" she purred.
Swindle swallowed a lump in his throat, "Uh, could you check the balance?"
"Sugar I can check anything, call me Carol."
Swindle awkwardly rolled forward and back on his feet and glanced back at his two teammates as she accessed the account. The further she delved, the more her eyes grew like dinner plates, "Oh my, woof."
"CAROLYNN! Get in here, my computer is not responding. It's acting like a passive-aggressive girlfriend," shouted Mr. Johnson from his office.
Once the teller slammed the office door shut Onslaught and Blastoff leaned on either side of Swindle's shoulders. "How much is in that account?" The decepticon merchant peered over the monitor screen, "Enough for us to buy this town out right; but…. we can only use what we absolutely need."
"Only what we need?" Said Blastoff in disbelief. "Or only what you could possibly stand to lose a day you greedy motherboard fragger!"
"No, only what we need, remember what I said last night about lying? Lesson two, if you lie you have continue with that course to keep up with appearances. Thanks to Brawl last night saying we lost everything in the fire and giving the impression that we are destitute; it's going to look real suspicious if it suddenly turns out that I'm actually rich."
The commander and sniper both scowled down at him, "You mean 'we're rich."
Swindle returned fire with a murderous glare of equal calibre, "I mean, we need to get jobs."
Onslaught's eye angrily twitched and a vein in Blastoff's temple pulsed.
"Look, all things considered, we have a good thing going for us. We have shelter, our landlady is provided our meals so we don't have to shop or cook, and we just got a bunch of free clothes that saved us from the experience of having to shop for them. Also we don't know how long we'll be stuck as humans, but some work experience wouldn't kill us if this turns out to be long term, and it'll be easier to obtain employment here than a large city because we don't have a car and we can't buy a car because of Brawls fat mouth."
Onslaught growled, "I don't like this, it sidetracks us from our real mission of obtaining our true forms back."
"Well inorganic forms, I had yet to obtain my true original form since being freed from the detention center," groused the former shuttle who quickly buttoned his mouth when he noticed the looks that promised to harm him.
"As I said, I don't like this as it sidetracks us but as much as I hate to admit it, Swindle's logic is sound," he sighed.
"Don't blame me, blame Brawl who can't keep his big mouth shut," reminded Swindle.
Currently, said decepticon sat in the pickup bed with Vortex, receiving the full experience of what it felt to be a slice of bacon in a skillet. Even after his nap in the chapel, the heat made him feel lethargic and sleepy and he felt himself drifting off despite the bright sun beaming in his face. Vortex drummed his fingernails on the vehicle's side, disrupting Brawl.
"Do you mind? I'm trying to get some recharge."
"I don't like it here, all these people talking about us it's like they are up to something."
The heavy weapons expert allowed one eye to open in a slit, "What, you think we're going to suffer an attack from church people?"
"Remember TONY, all of these "church people" are followers of that iniquitous reverend in there. Did you see how his followers held onto every word? If he really knew what we were he would snap his fingers and send most of this town after us."
"They're just trying to figure us out, its a wasteland out here and we are probably the first NEW things to show up in some time"
"If they want something new and fun they should go read a book."
Brawl frowned at him with scrutiny, "As if anyone would read for fun."
"There's something else, and the kid chauffeuring us around could give us some insight, I don't think she likes that crypt keeper either."
The whine of a two stroke engine rang across the street in the town square's playground that contained a metal merry-go-round. Four teens surrounded it with a dirt bike. Two were fiddling with the bike, one angled the rear tire to line with the rim of the merry-go-round's bottom plate while the second held it steady and gripped the throttle. The burliest, adorned in a football jersey, barked orders at the bike handlers and egged the fourth that had snaked his arms and legs around one of the handle bars.
The engine squealed to life, the rear tire kicking against the rim with a plume of smoke. Faster and faster it spun, until the boy on it became a green blur and produced high pitched screams that blended with the leader's laughter. Suddenly the green blur launched across the playground and struck head first into one of the swingset's support poles with a spray of red.
The boy controlling the throttle swiftly dragged the dirt bike to its wheels and sped off, his partner ran to his buddy writhing in the mulch and screamed, "His front teeth are gone! What we do, what we do!" Their leader groaned and began kicking his injured friend in the ribs shouting, "Don't be a fucking baby, stop crying you pussy!"
"Yeah, you know what, scratch that, I don't think we should be too concerned, they're really not that smart. I would bet most of them don't even know how to read."
Back in the bank, the squabble among the three combaticons continued to flow through the Kubler-Ross model of grief with Swindle depressingly accepting the circumstances that even if they found jobs, he was losing money each day they were humans. Onslaught while agitated with the terms of their current situation and that they would have to seek out employment, had accepted it, but that didn't mean he liked it. Blastoff looped repeatedly through three stages at once ranging from anger at the thought of having to perform manual labor, bargaining to get himself out of having to stoop so low as to finding human employment, which lead to utter depression that he indeed would have to do manual labor only to cycle back to cursing Brawl out with every fiber of his being.
"Blast...James settle down before you make a scene."
"Me?! Me making a ruckus that would warrant us into embarrassing and uncomfortable situations! How about we muzzle Brawl to permanent silence, then our predicament would be much nicer. Also remember you dragged me in here to make sure HE," pointing a finger at Swindle, "didn't pull any thing and while I tried to help you, you instead take HIS side."
"I did not take his side, the proposed current course of action makes logical sense, I don't like it anymore than you do but in order to maintain our cover we have to make sacrifices."
"Frag that, let's go to another town and start over!"
Swindle muttered, "Drama queen," just barely audible.
"Bla...ahhhhhh James we can't go to another town, we'd have to waste our time procuring a decent vehicle, which I doubt this town has to offer, or hitchhike and after yesterday's incident I'm not too keen on that option either."
"Well you might consider it further because even you are on the verge of blowing our cover because you can't keep our aliases straight!"
"I was trained in covert ops, not espionage, this is not part of my job description!"
"Just grasping the basics of putting on an act would do you a world of good!"
"Oh do forgive me that I skipped acting classes while in officers school, in hindsight I didn't know that a superfluous lesson be so important while undergoing the gestalt leader programing!"
"SUPERFLUOUS?!"
Swindle scuttled in between the two, "Guys drop your voices or take this outside, our land lady may have poor hearing but the other two can probably tell you're having an argument."
Onslaught and Blastoff both snubbed their noses at each other and huffed. Swindle stood awkwardly between them, "I can handle things here, go hang out in the pickup bed so we don't make a scene." Both growled at him and he sheepishly grinned, "Or not."
Ten minutes later Carol finally returned grumbling under her breath at her boss's repeated inability at understanding that his computer was ten years outdated so it was prone to freezing; and, that there were multiple programs to choose from, even Microsoft excel, that were a more accurate tool than his abacus.
"Carlos," she eeked out while trying to return to her professional self, "I apologize where were we?"
Swindle reached in his pocket to procure the invoice and felt something thin and flat against the folded paper. Odd, he ignored it and withdrew the paper and grimace upon realizing that it had not withstood its encounter with the washer. Fortunately the sum was somewhat legible and he passed it over to her. "I'd like five times the amount of what's written here."
Naomi shuffled from Mr. Johnson's office with a distant, concerned look on her face as Carolynn counted and transferred the bank notes to Swindle's palm. "Now remember Mrs. Jones, "chided Mr. Johnson, "You may not reach your targeted amount but it will be better than nothing and next year you and Joshlynn can sit down with me and we can discuss loan options."
The old woman vacantly nodded and walked over to her tenants and suddenly zeroed in on the dollars bills and out stretched her hand. Swindle glanced at it and back to his, "Oh right, what we owe last night and for today since we will be here for a while longer till our car is fixed." He religiously counted the amount, not one over, before reluctantly passing it forward. Naomi grabbed the other end and tugged but Swindle's thumb would not release.
"Would you just pay her already!" snapped Blastoff.
Swindle jumped in surprize, his fingers loosen. The old woman's sour mood melted away into a beam as she tucked the money in her purse. "That's quite alright dearies, you stay as long as you like," she dottered out the exit, Onslaught herded them to follow her. Carolynn twiddled her pearls as they went, watching one particular individual.
"Well he sure didn't want to lose any of that," chuckled Cave as he stood behind her, "but that's probably most of his paycheck."
"Oh, to contrair," she cut his laughter short as she rotated the monitor, still containing the combaticon's account, to face him. The bank owner began to stutter and foam at the mouth. "Alllllll those...those….zeros?! If I'd have a client like that business would.."
His teller gave a snub chuckled, faced the exit, and mused to herself, "I think it's time I tried fishing again."
"Fishing? Carolynn I didn't know you knew how to fish, you don't strike me as the outdoorsy type."
Carolynn peered up through the rims of her glasses, "Oh, I'm just full surprizes."
"Are you, well tell you what if you can convince that fella, whatever his name was."
"Carlos."
"Carlos, if you can convince Carlos to open an account with us and invest half of what is in this to ours, there would be a nice promotion in the works." He pat her on the shoulder as he returned to his office. She mused further, 'Well if I can't land a big one, I can fall back on a promotion."
Onslaught snatched the remaining dollar bills and card from Swindle and tucked them in his breast pocket before loading the rest of his men. They all sat eerily silent as the truck pulled out and chugged down the road until Onslaught cleared his throat, "Our financial situation is stable, but due to a certain lie one of us said last night to the humans we have given the impression that we are destitute. Therefore, we will have to keep up appearances with this lie and cannot procure vast amounts of currency or purchase a car to leave town."
Vortex quirked a brow at him, "Slag Onslaught what did you say to them last night?"
The decepticon commander shot an annoyed glare, "Don't thank me, thank Brawl."
The former tank shriveled as four pairs of hostile eyes landed on him.
"On top of keeping with this lie, we all need to find employment."
A chorus of groans and whines echoed from the group.
"We will discuss this further privately in one of the rooms when we get back," snarled Onslaught who just happened to catch the teenager staring at him through the rear view mirror, only for her to snap her eyes back on the road.
As the combaticons seemed to settle in their own dejected, personal bubbles, Swindle reached back into his pocket to the unknown item that had been with the waterlogged invoice. He rubbed his thumb over a side and felt the indent of numbers in a row and it took all his willpower to try not to grin giddily in front of his gestant mates.
'So called genius my aft, Ons you stupid, fragging idiot. Good job so far at keeping track of all those cards last night.' He twiddled in his pocket the card Onslaught had handed him last night before they had found the hotel. 'With this baby, I can get some cash and hitchhike to the next town, maybe find a decent vehicle, and put as many miles as I like from the lot of them, and start up my own business. Hmmm maybe a casino, and then I can report the rest of my cards as stolen and close all but my one cellphone account and leave them high and dry. They'll never find me!'
There were certain lines that were never meant to be crossed, such as tugging on Starscream's cape, criticizing Scrapper's artwork, or asking Laserbeak if she wanted a cracker. Then there was messing with Swindle's finances, which could be considered similar as to stealing a tungsten-turkey leg from a passive aggressive hellhound.
I really am looking forward to writing this next chapter.
Thanks for the reviews, favs, and follows. I'm happy to hear folks are getting a laugh out of this and enjoying this wild ride. Please feel free to send a review or comment, I accept constructive criticisms, I want to improve as a writer.