Hello everyone, it's about time for an update I'm sorry if I kept anyone on the edge of their seats, life hit me hard a few weeks after chapter 5 with my husband needing surgery and now my dog.

I intended for the end point of this chapter to be further along in the story but I just kept writing and coming up with ideas...and then 9,000 words later and I'm still not at my goal but I wanted to give everyone an update. The good news is the next chapter is half way done and won't take another six months before it's posted.

I hope everyone is doing well and you're having a great start this 2019. Thank you for the lovely reviews, it made my Thanksgiving extra special! Thanks again to my editors and to my husband, who once again added to Vortex's character. Fun note, while he was recovering and on pain killers he really got into character and demanded I take notes so I knew how to write Vortex on drugs, thanks for your sacrifice hun. Then he had an epiphany that I tell stories about decepticons hiding among human society to random people like the crazies on the sidewalk but with the internet... he was really tripping that day.

Now the combaticons must tackle cents, scents, and sense.

Disclaimer: I don't owner the combaticons, but all others are based off of people I've met, their viewpoints do not reflect my own.

The old pickup truck rattled up the gravel drive and ground to a halt at the front porch. Gilbert and his wife gingerly exited the vehicle and shuffled up the steps into the house. Joshlynn waited for the house guests to get out. When no one moved she glared and waved at the five men to get out of the vehicle's bed. Only then to realize they were either passed out or deep in the recesses of their minds. She scowled and slammed her fist on the horn; the five of them jolted back to reality by the blast, returned scowls of their own, and proceeded to exit the bed.

The five men watched as Joshlynn gunned the truck in reverse and executed a sharp turn before easing it into the garage shed. Vortex chuckled, "Wow James, the little glitch drives like Ratbat out of the pit. She drives better than you walk. Why can't you drive like that? I mean she is only operating a vehicle, you ARE a vehicle." The former shuttle huffed, dramatically straightened his shirt, and marched in the house, pointedly ignoring the interrogator.

Naomi stood at the foot of the stairs in the foyer, "Ah gentlemen, wasn't that just a lovely sermon, it was good of you to join us at church and to pay your dues. I'm changing out of my church attire, but then I'll get started on lunch, should be about half an hour. In the meantime, make yourselves at home and rest up." She shuffled up the stairs chirping, "Such reliable tenants."

"Indeed," Onslaught said tersely, "I think we should clean up before lunch as well." He gave her a polite nod and indicating to his men to head to their rented room with the bunk bed. Once they had assembled in he slammed the door shut.

"Squad, it seems I need to set some ground rules for all of you to avoid us being outed. Do not ever talk about what we really are or what we have done outside the boundaries of this room; our landlords may have poor hearing but that young human is far too suspicious of us for my liking. I don't know if she understood what was being said but she could hear a certain mutinous chanting in this room last night. Be careful around her, we cannot afford to have her figure out who we are."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Vortex rolled his eyes, "Says the one who can't remember his own name."

Onslaught crossed his arms, "Second, mind your words, half truths are fine but outright lies like the one about our destitution are what got us into this mess and if we are not careful it will get us into worse. If one of the locals asks questions, keep it short and simple with a vague truth, or better yet just stonewall them."

"I vote we keep bolts for brains locked in the room" Blastoff said with a withering glare at Brawl.

The former tank made a move to rise from his seat but a vice grip on his shoulders forced him back down. "YOU, SIT!" Onslaught roared. "AND YOU!" he pointed at Blastoff "HOLD YOUR GLOSSA! You all need to contribute to this team, I won't have any one of you not pulling his weight. Which is why all of you need to find employment to keep up appearances. You have twenty eight megacycles to report back to me in here on what you found."

"This is ludicrous Onslaught," started Blastoff.

"I said hold your glossa, also that reminds me. Do not use your real names outside, even keep it to a minimum in here."

Blastoff gave a loud dramatic scoff, "I will not! That's the tire calling the tank tread muddy. Out of all of us you are the worst at remembering yours, you about blew our cover in the bank and then you have the audacity to chastise us? Even Tony is succeeding in this department better than you." Brawl's expression laxed into a smug smile.

The former shuttle continued. "Every decision you have made has gotten us in worse and worse. When we were in our true forms you were a mediocre leader on your best day, but now! Now that we are trapped in these… forms you might just be the most pathetic lifeform on this entire miserable mudball. As I said earlier, I think we should procure a vehicle, move to a larger town, and start over. The more people there are the better, we'll be insignificant in the masses and disappear."

Brawl sunk into his seat doing his best to remain invisible.

A flustered exhale escaped Vortex, "As much as I hate to admit it shuttle butt's right. Humans are social creatures from my understanding, but the ones in this town take it to the extreme. They are way too curious about other's affairs. Don't their chats feel like an interrogation? As much as you are concerned about Joshlynn, I am far more worried about that pastor, he's wields enough power over the locals to spur the town against us if he wanted to."

Onslaught cocked a brow, "That delusional loon is who you are concerned about? Back during the sermon you seems all to entranced by this words."

Vortex half shrugged, "Talent is talent regardless of where it is found, these Christians' ideas on torture and morals gives me a creative boost; they seem to do so much with such primitive means. But I am bothered by with how little evidence they make their judgment on, something just doesn't sit right. Besides you hate him too, admit it. I thought you were about to go on one of your murderous tyraids when he compared himself to you." The combaticon commander suddenly became intensely interested in a piece of peeling wallpaper instead of Vortex's comments.

Swindle broke the tension, "We are in deep it's true, but the situation is not beyond salvaging. I think we should stay here, for multiple reasons. First off we have a good thing going here, all things considered. We have a base of operations that comes with prepared meals and we just received bags of clothes and other human care necessities for free. Second, this is the closest town to where we were changed, if there exists any hope of recovering our true forms by finding clues we aren't going to find it in the larger metropolises of this world."

'Thirdly we have already established a back story of having a car that caught on fire and these people have already been convinced that it's true, without evidence of any kind I might add. Now add that we now have a reputation amongst the whole town that we are in a bind and can't produce large sums of currency; I don't think someone would even sell us a car at this point. Fourth none of us are in possession of a driver's license or for that matter any form of ID. If we were to move to one of the larger population centers these would quickly become very real concerns. On top of that there would be much more activity from human authorities. Here we can reach the other end of town or potential work just by walking, and I have yet to see anyone that passes for an authority figure here.

Blastoff countered, "If we lived in the city we wouldn't have to work or put on a high act, no one there would care. We'd be faceless tenants."

Brawl perked up, "But...but if we skip town, we'll be leaving the old woman's cooking and I really like it." Everyone cast him a sideways glance before returning to pressing matters.

Swindle continued, "No, even in the city our landlord would get suspicious of us always having rent money but no jobs, might call the authorities on us thinking we were in the drug business. Also if we leave here, as Tony mentioned, no more complimentary meals. That means if you're not working you manage the cooking or acquiring food, shopping for care items, and cleaning our dwellings. If it ever comes to this, I nominate," he paused for a second to emphasis the bite in his voice, "James for this task since he doesn't want to work."

The former shuttle was about to advance at the con artist but his commander's glare kept him rooted. Swindle smuggly nodded and continued, "There are still things we don't know about maintaining our bodies and blending in society; here we can slowly pick up on that from the three that live here. Finding work here will be easier as well, they'll want papers and ids in the city; here we could get away with short temporary things. We'll probably be underpaid but it will be easier to keep appearances and get experience. I can pad out our income with additional funds as I see fit."

Onslaught uncrossed his arms, "You mean as I see fit, as I'm the leader we will spend it as I direct."

Swindle scowled, "Yeah, I don't think so, besides you can't even access the accounts."

"Maybe I'll just force you to do it for me, come on Swindle you want this money? Why don't you just try and keep it?" The combaticon commander cracked his knuckles.

"You know what go ahead, beat me up, all you'll prove is you are no better at leading than Motormaster. Face it fearless leader, you have nothing that will ever get you what you want." The arms merchant felt the familiar threat of cross hairs targeting him as his leader stomped towards him.

A knock rang from the hallway, Onslaught froze in his tracks and waited for Swindle to go answer it. The con artist mouthed 'No'.

Vortex whispered to him, "Look Swin, just deal with whoever is at the door or else you get the sleeping bag tonight." He pointedly shot Onslaught a look. Brawl beamed at the thought of getting one of the mattresses.

Swindle grunted and steeled himself before adorning his salesman smile and faced the thing on the other side of the door. Gilbert beamed at him, "Howady Carlos, Josh heard some ruckus come'n down here and I'd thought I'd come check on you fellas. Everything al'right?"

Swindle could see the teen face palming as her head poked into the hall from the living room. The con artist smiled more uneasily, "We apologize for the disturbance, we… received a bit of bad news."

"Ah," the old man nodded and invited himself into bedroom, hobbling in on his cane. "Have you managed to get an assessment of the damage on ya'lls car?"

"Ah well," he clicked his tongue, ciphering for the words, "we apologize about the inconvenience but it seems we will be staying here longer than planned and in that time we need to find temporary work."

Gilbert scratch his chin, "Welp, ya'll should talk to the missus on account that she knows more of who is hiring in town but I have some work around the homestead. My last two farm hands left town last week, muttering about some dark shadow engulfing the town. Weird superstitious coots they were," he grumbled under his breath.

The old man shook his head as if dislodging a concerning thought. "No matter, this works in both of our favors. I can only hire two of ya," he looked each of them up and down as if judging the condition of a draught horse. He pointed his cane at Brawl and Onslaught, "You two look strong enough for the tasks, what ya say?" Gilbert grinned at his granddaughter behind him who was assertively shaking her head and waving her arms as if screaming in protest. The deceptions puzzled at her.

Brawl shrugged and nodded his head; Onslaught internally grimace but accepted as it allowed him to keep an eye on Brawl and make sure he didn't blow their cover again or lose his job due to incompetence.

"Well boys, it's settled. I'll meet you outside in the barn. Y'all want to change out of your church outfits into something durable cause you will get dirty and deal with barbed wire. Also stay as long as you need, it's nice to have more testosterone in the house. Been nuttin but a sea of estrogen for years." The old man grumbled the last sentence as he hobbled on his cane out the back door.

Swindle and Blastoff snickered as they left the room, "Enjoy your manual labor." Vortex joined them, not without leaving them with a mock salute. Brawl tensely scratched his head, "I wish we didn't have to switch clothes, I like this shirt, the one I slept in didn't fit." He grabbed the first green shirt he could find and slipped his arms through the sleeves on top of his current shirt. He strained to pull his shoulders forward.

"Hold it that's not going to work," Onslaught snagged the shirt's collar and tugged against Brawl's pull.

"If I barrel through this it'll work."

"Like the the brick wall obstacle course?"

"No, this time I'll succeed, this is not as tough."

"You mean sturdy because now you are wearing a tattered rag. You didn't really think this through as usual Brawl, now take the shirt off."

Brawl jerked forward to shake off his commander who tugged the shirt harder and planted his right boot against Brawl's keester for leverage. The struggle quickly escalated.

"What the slag, get off me!"

"I'm the ranking officer here, now take it OFF!"

"Shut the door you creeps, we don't need the entire house involved in your… playtime." The two combaticons froze in place, their gaze slowly focusing to the doorway at the blond teen whose face was equal parts confused and disgusted.

Onslaught's gold eyes narrowed, "This does not concern you, scram." His bumbling counterpart frowned, "My clothes don't fit."

The teen's face hardened, "Then it isn't your size, check the tag inside the collar you dolt."

Brawl just stared dumbly at her.

Joshlynn's annoyance spiked to sarcasm, "THE TAG JACKASS" the scrawny human said loud and slow as if explaining astro navigation to a crankshaft. "Look if the tag matches the tag on your original shirt it should fit you." She indicated to the back of her own collar. "If it says xxl on the tag, you need another one just like it."

"Oh that makes sense I guess." Brawl said as Onslaught did his best to nonchalauntly inspect his own shirt and Brawl's intact one.

Joshlynn rolled her eyes while leaving the doorway, "Welcome to Earth dingle dork."

"Oh why thank you." beamed Brawl earnestly.

The teen just froze staring at him as if she had just welcomed an alien in her home, when Onslaught abruptly slammed the door shut. As he seethed, his arm shook while holding Brawl's new shirt that he had found in the pile.

"What's your problem?" said Brawl "I was just acting normal and being nice."

Onslaught considered yelling at the thick skull idiot for a moment but settled instead with shoving the correct sized shirt in his hands. The former tank observed the article and ran his fingers through the fabric, "It's not green." The combaticon commander's fist tingled to slug his subordinate's nose.

The three unemployed decepticons slumped at the dining table, bored without a plan for the next course of action as they waited for their midday meal. The silence stretched until Vortex's stomach renched a long, howling growl; Blastoff's and Swindle's returned an equal response, like a pack of wolves in the dead of night. None dared to look at the other.

A steady beat tapped under the table, the interrogator peered down to see Blastoff moving his foot with impatience. The former copter grinned and began drumming his fingers every two beats; his boot tip nudged his other compatriot's kneecap to join. Swindle trained his ear to the rythm and rapped his knuckles on the wood to the cacophonous percussion and abdominal protests. Blastoff slammed his palms on the table and barked, "Enough, your musical and cadence skills would offend a counter balanced metronome!"

"Use a normal indoor voice," remarked Swindle, drawing Blastoff's crosshairs at him.

Vortex nodded, "Yeah, boss said if we're not in the bedroom we might get overheard and cause trouble; and, you don't want to be a bigger scrap up than Brawl do you?"

The sniper scoffed as he regally lowered himself back into his seat, "Well I should inform you two not to take a job involving music because it will notify everyone of your ineptitude."

"Duly noted, for you I would say you should avoid any employment that puts you in any position of power or decision making because it would go straight to your empty head."

The rattle and clinking of glasses on a tray cut Blastoff from firing a retort and he chose to bide his time. All turned in time to see Naomi shuffling from the kitchen with a tray supporting three glasses and enough tuna sandwiches to feed an army. The two more onry decepticons perked up in delight at the sight of the organic fuel and quickly helped themselves to their hostess's hospitality.

"Oh my, such appetites. Doesn't the army feed you regularly?"

The tone in the room chilled several degrees as both Swindle's and Vortex's heads turned in unison with a deadpan expression at her and shook in a serious 'no'.

"Well that's unfortunate, and staying on that topic my husband informed me that you will be staying with us longer than you had planned. He also told me that you are looking for work to cover the expenses on the repairs, hence why your other friends will be working on the farm, correct?"

All three decepticons bit their tongues to keep from snickering.

"I also couldn't help but overhear the three of you discussing something about jobs that would suit your work experiences when I was in the kitchen."

The three stiffened like children caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

"My hearing isn't what it use to be but I do my best," she dusted her glasses. "If you need some extra cash to cover repairs and rent, there are folks in town who might have some temporary work you could do. Your years of service in uniform might allow you to bypass the application process even."

"You don't say, it's nice to hear our military careers deem us trustworthy to the folks in town and that they could offer us further help, but of course with us doing our fair share of work in return," Swindle shot a gloating grin at Blastoff.

Blastoff's expression remained unreadable, but underneath his scheming was nearly on par with Swindle's. Fine, he may have to work, but payback against the two cretons on either side of him was in his reach. He willed the politest voice he could muster, "Naomi, could you kindly list off any establishment you know of that could hire another worker. In the past, Carlos worked in the mercantile business and has experience in retail."

The elderly woman settled at the head of the table, "OH, is that so, well I don't believe they are hiring at the moment but the grocery store might accept another hand in moving shipments and stocking."

Swindle slowly faced the pretentious instigator with a look equal parts distraught and anger. The sniper paid no heed and waivered a hand at Vortex, "And earlier, Travis mentioned how much he enjoyed church this morning and felt a deep connection there; is there any work he could do around the church?"

Vortex munched on his third sandwich, his eyes not breaking contact with Blastoff. If he could shoot high frequency lasers from his reddish brown irises, Blastoff would melt like a certain glasses wearing Nazi.

The old woman's eyes sparkled in delight, "Oh pastor Keith will be delighted! There is always some sort of handy work on the building or yard care to be done."

The sniper softly smiled at her while his two teammates plotted his downfall. Naomi continued, "Now Mr….. oh deary me, I never got your last names."

"Please don't concern yourself, it's quite alright. I prefer my first name anyways."

"If you insist, if you don't mind me asking, what is it you do in the army?"

The decepticon in disguise gloated at his chance to stroke his own ego. "I am the squad's navigational technician, but when the occasion calls for it I specialize in surveillance, sniping, and translator," he finished proudly.

"But most of the time he just chauffeurs us to and from the battlefield. We lovingly nicknamed him 'the company bus'," interjected Vortex.

"Oh is that so?" chirped their land lady.

Swindle and Vortex nodded, Blastoff placed a well aimed kick under the table at the interrogator who returned fire with his heel.

"Well I just have wonderful news for you, the school currently needs a replacement bus driver to finish the school year, it should be simple and calmer than driving in a war zone. I'll go call them myself; I use to work for the school and still have connections there. It'll be no trouble at all, just stay right there." With that she sprung from her seat and bounded to the kitchen with as much life as a spring chicken. Swindle snorted in his water and Vortex had to contain his laughter with both hands as Blastoff gazed ahead with a hundred yard stare.

It was at that moment the other two combaticons joined them at the table from the bedroom. Onslaught waved a hand in front of the sniper's face, "What's up with him?"

"He's speechless that the old woman is arranging the proper channels so he can work his true dream job," chortled Vortex.

Their commander shrugged and slumped in his seat with the same look as he mulled over how far he had fallen in his own career. He had skipped breakfast to avoid another unpleasant refueling but his body was screaming in protest to be taken care of and it craved for one of the items in the center of the table. 'Just ignore it, you'll be fine.' Swindle, Vortex, and Brawl ignored their catatonic teammates by stuffing their mouths.

Naomi poked her head in the dining room, "Wonderful news James, the school transportation department would love to see if you're qualified for the job and want to see you this afternoon. I'll scratch the address down for you and you can visit them after lunch." She blinked upon realizing Onslaught and Brawl had joined the table, "Oh there you two are," she ducked back in kitchen and reappeared in a jiffy, "I packed a lunch for each of you so you can get started immediately and I included a canteen of water." She shoved a paper bag in each of their hands and shooed them from the dining room. "Well don't keep them waiting on your first day, they're out in the barn."

Brawl glanced at his leader to see if his commander was going to let the elderly human get away with bossing them around and making them leave the table stacked with delicious consumables. To his disappointment, Onslaught marched to the back door, more than happy to get away from the sandwiches. He followed gloomly.

When they had left the back porch, Naomi turned her attention back to the other three. "Well now, I think I'll give pastor Keith a call next." Vortex choked on a pickle.

The two combat professionals trekked across the backyard to the corral and barn. The barn was in much the same state compared to the rundown house, showing portions of bare wood underneath chipped and flaking red and white paint; the roof however seemed to have fared much better. Ragweed and mare tails strangled the fence and held dominion over vast swaths of the yard where the mower surrendered to the futility of its task.

A fenced off portion of the backyard housed five chicken coops that bustled with commotion. Fat hens scratched the eroded ground for any stray seeds or scraps that the wind carried into their pen. On a fence post, made from the discarded end of a telephone pole, sat Mr. Pepper who glared at them as if to say 'You've come to the wrong neighborhood fellas'. Both Onslaught and Brawl grimaced at the state of neglect presented. "This looks bad for us boss," said Brawl.

"I agree," grumbled Onslaught as he peered in his lunch sack at the questionable mass of organic foodstuffs. Both bags had black scribbled markings on one side. He'd have Swindle translate it for him later; but he had a sneaking suspicion that it said their human names on them. It wouldn't be bad to keep that thought in mind for the future.

The combaticon officer growled in his throat, "I am the commander of an elite corps of shock troops, not some common labor drone." He was about to continue his descent into self pity but jumped in surprize as a brown avian darted in front of him. At first he mistook it for an escaped chicken but its body was too slender, it had a pointed spear bill and spiked crest, and a long narrow tail that bobbed like a fishing pole. The bird jogged to the next shrub, leaving tracks the shape of perfect 'X's. "Vermin!" scoffed Onslaught.

Sweet scented hay, the smell of upturned earth, and the reek of manure assaulted their nasal senses at the entrance of the barn. The only light illuminating the interior came from the hay loft, highlighting a cloud of swirling dust. As their eyes adjusted, Gilbert stood to the side in the breezeway, clenching Bonita's reins. The filly smacked her snaffle bit with impatience, ears slightly pulled back, and tail whipping the flies.

"Fellas!" Gilbert waved their attention to the shadowed stalls, "I'd like you to meet your fellow coworkers, Jasper and Biscuit! Take care of them and they will take care of you." From the recesses of the barn, deep ground shaking beats reverberated; Joshlynn stepped into the sun rays leading an enormous beast in each hand that were easily three times the mass of the two combaticons.

Onslaught felt the blood drain from his face as he took in their size, this must be what autobots felt like when faced with Bruticus. If he were here, Blastoff's chin would have barely reached the top of the withers. Brawl's eyes remained transfix on the monstrosities while his shoulders vibrated like when he had gotten ahold of a new toy as Joshlynn led Biscuit before him.

Rough hands belonging to a being that had taken countless lives and committed heinous acts of violence, became gentle and unsure as if handed their first born. His fingertips brushed the soft, velvety nose that deeply inhaled his scent; the warm exhale tickled him back. With disinterest, the nose nudged the hand out of the way and nuzzled Brawl's breast pocket in curiosity. With a wide grin, he stroked the animal's neck, feeling the last pillowing tufts of its winter coat mixed with the dust.

"I haven't got all day!" Joshlynn complained.

Brawl stood like a deer in headlights, dumbly staring at the saddle but Joshlynn sighed and asked, "Do you even know how to ride?"

The ground assault warrior shot her a look before he ungracefully clambered on the animal's back and situated himself like he had seen her yesterday after nearly running Vortex over. "It's been so long, I haven't done this before joining the military, a quick lesson to jog my memories would help." Onslaught sent him a quick nod of approval, pleased to note that his lecture on lying had not gone unheard and impressed that the dolt could form one. Joshlynn's expression softened somewhat and she passed the reins into his hands.

While he was pleased with his subordinate, Onslaught's frustration rose as he tried to plant his foot into a stirrup for leverage to swing his other leg over Jasper's back. Without checking if he was in the saddle, the teen harshly, chucked the reins in his face before she mounted Bonita.

"Alright men," droned the old man, "When I'm not around Josh is in charge, she knows the drill and where everything is. She'll be helping you with work after she gets home from school during the week." The two combaticons rolled their eyes at each other, like that was going to happen. Gilbert gave his granddaughter a pat on the leg, "Take it away Wildcat."

"WHAT THE?!"

"You're going to be incharge out in the pasture with them, this will be a good leadership experience for you. Besides, one day you'll inherit all of this and need to know how to run it and handle farm hands." He beamed and gestured proudly to the deteriorating barn and farm. At that moment a hinge squeaked and the loft's shutter door plummeted to the ground outside the exit. "Also looks like you get to do some handy work today," with a chuckle he moseyed out to the corral.

Joshlynn just sat there, jaw agape for what seemed like minutes. She swallowed a lumped in her throat while sizing them up before straightening her back, "We won't be performing any fancy horsemanship today, just western stockwork. To get them to go forward, squeeze your heels into their flanks, DO NOT kick them." She kept her eyes on Brawl, "Keep both reins in your nondominant hand at center just under the knot." She demonstrated with her left. "To turn left, pull the knot left so the right rein drapes on their neck, not hard or you'll damage their mouths. Those two are lazy and get the message quick. For right, just visa versa. To stop, pull the reins directly back. Got it? Good." She said without waiting for an answer and had Bonita swivel on her rear hooves and trotted out of the barn.

"I think that is the most we have ever heard it speak," muttered Brawl. Onslaught rolled his eyes and squeezed his legs. Jasper didn't budge, or seem to notice his presence. "Hey," the combaticon commander tapped the horse's shoulder and pointed forward, "go follow them." The horse replied with a snort and opted to chew on his pastern. Brawl jiggled his reins with a soft heel to his horse's flank while producing an odd click in his mouth. Biscuit indulgently walked to the exit; Brawl grinned back at his commander with his success; completely ignorant that the distance between his head and doorframe had vastly reduce while on horseback. There was a loud crack and Brawl found himself lying in the hay as Biscuit walked off.

On the southern edge of town, the combaticon navigator questioned how he managed to get himself into these scenarios or why this was his lot in life and what possessed him to even bother addressing the public school's transport center and its mediocracy. Vortex's nickname buzzed around him like a wasp. This was demeaning, sure he could understand the controls and functions of a motor vehicle and had perused countless traffic laws of many countries in his copious amounts of free time in earth's orbit while waiting for slagging orders to exterminate a pinpoint target, but he had much more potential than just that. He had more talent in his pinky than the others had in their whole bodies. Even in this squishy one he possessed superior hand eye coordination (with his glasses of course), excellent social skills, and retained unlimited facts and information of the earthling's culture. Which he now learned that too much information could be a bad thing. Which side of the rode did this country drive on again?

A yellow school bus tore through the garage yard and only stopped when it slammed into a congregation of storage barrels. The engine gave an angry hiss as if it were sore from the crash and the folding door squealed as it slid crooked. A short, feeble man that could only be best described as pixar studios Geri in a trucker hat with glasses so thick the lens could have very well have been made from the bottom of cola bottles, tumbled out of the bus. He wiped his spectacles with a sleeve, the lens magnified his eyes making him look like he had evolved from some sort of bug eyed goldfish. "Look at you, I don't know how intimidate'n you sound but just by your height alone you could scare the bejeezus outta the disrespectful whippersnappers. Trust me you'll want to keep those ornery little shit sniffers in line. It'll make your job a lot easier."

Blastoff wrinkled his nose in disgust, living with one teenager for one day was dreadful but chauffeuring an entire litter of them? A swarm? A colony of them for a living was only slightly preferable to being beaten to death by Onslaught. "From my experience with teens they sulk and ignore you."

The man gave a hearty laugh, "Teenagers? No, this is the elementary school bus, you'll be dealing with the smaller, messier, and noisier bunch. They don't call em ankle biters for nothing. You'll have to be careful, they smell fear better than a bloodhound trailing after a bitch in heat. Now step into my office." He lead Blastoff onto the mangled bus and slumped in the driver's seat. "Now, here's what you do you'll herd the little mutants in, this lever controls the door, and even if the teachers give ya the cue to leave don't until all the little petri dishes remain seated."

"And make sure their wearing their seat belts?" Blastoff asked as he held one up from the first bench.

"Nope, not required and the little brats will switch seats a lot and gradually migrate to the front as space becomes available.

Blastoff stood flabbergasted, "I know that the safety laws of this planet…. er state quite clearly say that all passengers in moving vehicles must have a seatbelt on at all times, especially for minors. Basically what you are saying is that these safety rules don't apply when you cram a bunch of them in here and take off down the road?!"

The man shrugged, "They'll be fine, they're young and will bounce back if they fall. Now let me show ya how to get started and the route you'll be tak'n. You know how to drive stick right?"

Before Blastoff could protest that he was not the right human for the job, the old man jammed his keys in the ignition and the engine screamed in objection to turning over. The bus jolted backwards before lunging forward, murdering the last of the storage barrels and whipped out onto the road heading west.

"Now see here sonny, thing you need to keep in mind is.." The geezer's advice soon became the endless tale of his life's history as Blastoff snaked a foot around one of the poles supporting a seat and grabbed the back of another as the bus accelerated on the country roads. He considered strapping himself with one of the seatbelts but with how the bag of bones chose to handle the steering wheel, the only good it would probably do him would be to secure his corpse for identification after the innevable wreck.

"Sonny, have you been listen'n?"

"WATCH THE ROAD!"

The bus tore through a barbed wire fence and before he could scream "PRIMUS LOOK OUT YOU SON OF A GLITCH, SLAG IT ALL TO THE PIT" the vehicle struck a bull and jolted to an abrupt halt.

The airbags deployed, catching the driver. Despite wedging himself against his seat and the one in front of him, the impact was enough to knock the wind out of Blastoff. He slumped forward with his chin on the back of another seat in shock. His vision greyed out and his fingers clawed the air below him as he tried to breathe. The driver wobbled out of the bus and disappeared around the front; only when his diaphragm began functioning properly did Blastoff join him.

As he stumbled down the steps, the scene looked like the Creten Bull had challenged Mallya (that no good autobot bus) to a no holds barred fight. The bus's shattered engine hissed in defeat while two pairs of hooves poked out from under the front bumper. Now if only they had on striped stockings and ruby slippers would the surrealism be complete.

The old man scratched the thinning patch of hair under his hat. "I swear that thing came out of nowhere, probably even ran right in front of me." Blastoff gave him an incredulous stare then looked around the field with the road nowhere in sight. More cattle gathered around the front of the bus as if to pay their respects to their fallen champion. "I reckon the Sheriff ain't gonna let me have my license again after this time. Soooo ready ta start tamarrow?"

The sniper's face read equal parts horror, disgust, and disbelief, "No, and I'll walk back to town. Good day!"

The driver seemed unfazed, "Alright then, just let me know if you change your mind, we'd be more than happy if you could help," and returned to contemplating how he was going to sweet talk his way out of trouble.

Blastoff didn't bother with a response and limped back to the dusty town.

"Soooo, you gonna visit the grocery store?"

"Sure am, right after you visit Pastor Keith."

"Touche."

The two continued their walk through the neighborhood in agreed silence. The heat of the lazy afternoon had chased most residents into their homes; the few that braved the outdoors were the elderly, senile, or those whose brains had been cooked welldone from repeated exposure. Two living fossils rocked on one of the front porches with judgemental looks and canes on standby. Ever vigilant for the constant threat of human young trespassing upon their property. One of the decrepit humans gave Swindle a vulture like stare, undoubtedly seeing him as an intruder. Swindle gave a polite wave that did nothing to deter their opinions.

"As I mentioned to Brawl earlier..." Vortex began.

"Tony." Corrected Swindle.

"Like I give a scrap, our leader isn't here, no one is here! As I was saying, I mentioned earlier to Brawl that something is wrong in this town. The folks here are way too nosy."

"What do you mean nosy, your entire job is finding out people's secrets. That's what an interrogator does!" objected Swindle.

"Yeah but intelligence gathering is my job and sometimes this occurs outside of my workshop, but I doubt anyone in this place does it for a wage. But as I was saying, something is off about these simple minded fleshlings in this place, and if I can see it then you better believe it is strange indeed."

"What are you going to do about it, detective."

"Preferable nothing, I don't care about these flesh bags, I just want to get the frag out of here."

"You heard Rory, we're staying here. The population is sparse enough so everyone knows everyone and all their secrets. They're trying to integrate us in by the only way they know how which is digging up tar. Ever been to a small town before?"

Vortex paused in the middle of the street, "No, I lived in the underground of Polyhex where no one knew anyone or cared if they went missing. So yeah, for five decepticons walking around in organic skins, it's down right dangerous for us."

"Which is why we better learn how to be human and blend in real fast. Who knows, if we follow your methods of watching and emulating humans we could fool the Autobots if we ever ran into them," said Swindle as he continued ahead, only to freeze in his tracks.

Vortex's response crawled over his shoulder like a cold, slimy quintesson tentacle, "Perhaps Joshlynn can help us."

Swindle slowly turned with a straight face, "I tell you, the girl knows nothing."

Vortex laughed, "I'm surprised to find you squeamish, that's not your reputation. Anyway it need not to concern you, I am the perfect meche for this sort of work."

"You almost blew our cover during breakfast, and what do you plan on doing to her to make her cooperate? Break her fingers, saw her kneecaps off, force her to listen to one of Blastoff's lectures of how Vos produces the superior energon wine?

"Are you saying I can't be subtle?! I can be subtle! I can be subtle as the shuttle if I feel like it."

"So why don't you practice it?"

"It bores me, it's like eating unprocessed coal."

Swindle rolled his eyes but abruptly halted upon realizing that the helicopter had used it on him multiple times in finding out the meeting times and locations on some of his side jobs

Vortex continued down the road, "Also I did not almost blow our cover at breakfast. I had gotten her to speak to me without pushing a conversation, something her grandmother couldn't do without nagging her. The helicopter comment would have just stumped her. I mean helicopters turning human, what nonsense is that? But I think she could be very useful. While in the church, none of the other locals would speak to us with her around, I don't think she has a good reputation with them. Which leads me to believe she doesn't care for them, or at least the pastor; she wouldn't even roll down the window to greet him and when she was driving us away her arms were shaking."

"So what, I don't see how she could help us."

"With your persuasive charm and deal making, we could have an agreement that she answers some of our obvious human questions in exchange for, would you say, keeping the townsfolk or the pastor away from her?"

"Yeah ok Mr. Subtle, we'll discuss it later with Rory. I'm off to find a car dealership or auction house for work." Swindle took a right at the intersection in the road and waved farewell behind his shoulder.

Vortex chuckled out to him, "If all else fails you can fall back on the grocery store!"

"GET SLAGGED!"

The interrogator snickered and sauntered forward to the outskirts. An old cinder block building painted red with multiple corrals and chutes in the back, sat next to the dirt road. Three bovines in the back perked up in interest and moseyed over to him; but then paid him little interest when they realized he had no food on him. He scratched one's jaw and peered around the compound for any signs of a lifeform with two legs.

A loud crack followed by a thick thud echoed from a bay door in the building. Curious, he poked his head in, "Hello?"

"SHIT'AH BRICK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!" yelled a burly man adorned in a bloody leather apron, brandishing a rifle. Vortex immediately shot his hands into the air, "I swear I didn't see a thing, I'll testify you killed that thing in self defense."

The man heaved a sigh, rolled his shoulders, and drooped the gun's muzzle to the floor, "Fuck'n idiot, this area is off limits to everyone but me and my brother."

"And I can tell," he pointed to the dead cow with blood pooling around it.

"Very funny boy, you make jokes before you rat on me for work'n on a Sunday?" The stranger's frown was further highlighted by his muttonstache.

"Why would I care if you work on a Sunday?"

The stranger was taken back, "Because it's the sabbath, ya know Exodus 35.2, the day of rest, keep it holy or else the pastor will come after me for not be'n ah good enough christian and the town will boycott my business."

Vortex adopted an annoyed lax attitude, "So I take it that if I'm looking for work, today would be a bad day for job hunting? Also if you're so scared of repercussions for working today then why risk it?"

"Because my brother and business partner is recuperat'n from a calf kick in the head and if I don't keep meeting our sales quota on product then our business is in jeopardy," he replied with a sigh. The bedraggled behemoth set the gun on his work bench and grabbed what appeared to be a large metal hanger with two sharp hooks on either side.

To Vortex's delight the stranger's work desk held an assortment of sharp and pointy devices that reminded him of his own office. Above were four posters presenting a silhouette of an animal; one showed a cow with labeled section cuts across it. He glanced back behind him to a corridor expelling icy mist and could see animals hanging from their hind legs without hides and exposed empty chest cavities.

He grinned from ear to ear and giggled in his head, "I know something Swindle doesn't know and look at all these beautiful toys! Which should I test out on that two legged project over there, I'll get to see the action up close and personal! I mean he is completely oblivious of being attacked and no one knows he's here. It's perfect, but …. no … no people would question why his shop isn't open tomorrow, then they'd find him, and newcomers are always the first to blame on suspicious murders. Slag, no fun. Or…..'

"Would you mind and leave please, I have a lot of work ta finish before tomorrow," grumbled the butcher as he yanked on a chain to hoist the cow's carcass off the floor.

"Well sir I have good news for you," he grabbed a spare apron, "I'm looking for temporary work and happen to have years of experience doing this sort of thing." He smiled as he approached, twirling a butchers knife.

Chapter 7 is on its way, but now I go play read dead redemption II for a break, yeehaw!