Disclaimer: I don't own the combaticons or the transformers, but all the humans are based off of people I've met or I've created, their viewpoints do not reflect my own.
Hello everyone, I hope you are staying safe and well, I've been enjoying being quarantined with more time to write. Cheers!
Chapter 8: Chipping the Cracks - Someone is chipping at the cracks in the Combaticon's story faster than a chick hatching from an egg on a frying pan.
The enveloping embrace of the comforter swallowed him as his tired eyes gazed at the ceiling.
*blink*
Darkness shrouded him.
*blink*
The soft moonglow reflected on the ceiling.
*blink*
Abysmal inkiness consumed him.
*blink*
The ceiling now took a yellow tinge.
*blink*
Vast darkness surrounded him as a light with no origin cast itself on him.
*blink*
The scene remained the same.
*blink*
*blink*
*blink*
The two chairs and table supporting the chess set sat right in front of him; the four animal figurines sat clustered on his side. With nothing else in sight to do, he took a seat and tried lifting the bear. It wouldn't budge, he tried scooting it across the board, nothing. He tried the other three; they all remained steadfast.
Were neodymium magnets holding these pieces in place? Impossible, they had to be wood, same as the board, it didn't make sense.
A hushed voice whispered in his audio, 'Are you not a commander? Command them."
He tapped the little bear, "You, move two spaces forward. The bear obeyed. He commanded it to move diagonally. Nothing. "Move right two spaces." It complied once again. Hmm this piece moved like a rook, only following a straight path in a relative direction. Cut and dry.
The antlers on the elk reminded him of a crown and he told it to move in every position a king could move. It only obeyed the diagonal commands like a bishop. Cut and dry, at a slant. Next came the little jay, too small to be qualified for the position of king and queen, but it ignored a pawn's forward move. He drummed his fingers at his eliminated options. "One forward, three right." The jay slid across the board making an 'L'. A knight did have a crooked strategy.
Which left the raven. "Move forward one." The figure didn't budge and despite it being an inanimate object of wood, Onslaught felt a pit in his tank that it was watching him. "Move forward one," nothing, "move forward two", nothing, "move diagonally, backwards, to the side, slag move like a knight!" The bird did nothing.
He groaned looking at the other pieces and noticed a square in the upper left corner had a raven silhouette burned into the wood. 'What the scrap?! That was not there earlier!' He would have noticed that, wouldn't he? The decepticon tapped the raven on the head; it scooted from the offending finger. "You, you can't be a rook, bishop, or knight and I doubt you are a queen or king which leaves you as a pawn now move forward." He watched as the bird tilted up to him and slanted to the side as if a child were playing with it, giving it a questioning stance. "No, you can't be a king, queen, or pawn if you can't move forward a space," he paused, staring ahead, his frustration growing. "I'm designating you as a pawn, and you will move forward until you reach that space over there that bares your marking and don't think that I…"
Onslaught didn't finish his sentence as he fell backwards in his chair in bewilderment as the raven piece suddenly vaulted off the board and zoomed sporadically over the table like a balloon losing wind. It dropped out of the air and sloppily plopped on the etched space with its back towards him. He felt something crawl up his spinal strut as the raven slowly spun to face him defiantly.
To his left, a form began to materialize out of the fog. Smoke coalesced into tinted colors that thickened and deepened in tone, until it resembled grey metal plating. The shape solidified, revealing Vortex deep in recharge.
Onslaught waved a hand in front of the copter's face but got no reaction. He ordered Vortex to attention, but again he got no response. Beginning to lose his temper with the situation, he took a swing at the chopper…. but stumbled as both his fist and his forearm passed harmlessly through the illusion.
He whirled around to check on the piece he now suspected triggered the appearance of his interrogator and did a double take at the sight before him. "Oh what fresh slag is this?!" he screamed as he noticed a burned etching of a bear on the other side of the board had now appeared.
He took a deep intake in his vents to calm his nerves. This place, whatever it was, was starting to get to him. Determined not to let whatever this was get the better of him, he planted his chair back in place and took a seat. Contemplating his options for a moment, he tentatively commanded the bear to move. It reached its goal in two moves. An unconscious Brawl, in his tank form, swirled out of the mist on his right. He verbally maneuvered the elk in three moves to its etching that he swore had not been there a klik ago; and a ghostly image of Blastoff soon joined the party. Onslaught's spark pounded with satisfaction.
He rubbed his palms together, just one more. He smirked when he located the burned jay mark and plotted the figure's movement. Trying to land a knight on a specific point proved more of a challenge than the previous two, and it took him a couple tries to get the hang of just how it moved. Just one last move and the jay would land on the goal. The combaticon commander felt a grin spread across his face plates as it began its final course.
A pair of yellow eyes blinked into existence in the adjacent chair and loomed with interest at the jay before shifting back to Onslaught who's burgeoning good mood evaporated like liquid nitrogen on a hibachi grill. The eyes shifted to an angle, his visor felt absolutely useless as if they invaded his own spark. Something pulled and tweaked in his chamber and he felt narrow phantom claws trace his face under his helmet and mask.
The pair watched the jay enter the last square before the etched space. Time slowed to a painful crawl and gravity drastically increased to the point that Onslaught couldn't lift a finger. The eyes moved back to him unaffected by these changes and they morphed to a more elliptical shape, as if squinting. He felt a pinpoint pressure on either side of his optics, forcing them open to watch as the corner of the jay's foot touched the final square. "I'd let you stay but I don't want you late for work," cheerfully entered his audio receptors, mixed with cackling and banging metal.
Those slagging eyes! The cackling was gone but the metal banging continued just beyond the bedroom door. Blastoff's hands frantically fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses and he leaned over too far that he fell off; Onslaught bolted upright from the mattress and scrambled out of the covers and retched the door handle open.
Joshlynn stood in the hall, beating an iron skillet with a wooden kitchen utensil. The adjacent door flew open with Swindle and Vortex sliding on the wood in their socks only to fall forward as Brawl came bustling to the commotion.
"Do you mind!" barked Onslaught, his eyes bloodshot.
The teen stopped and motioned to all of them, "If all ya'll want breakfast I'd get a move on it or ya'll will be wait'n all morn'n for lunch. And you two," she pointed at her farm hands, "have thirty minutes ta get dressed and eat. I'm suppostah get ya started on feed'n the chickens and collecting eggs before I go to school."
Vortex propped his head off the floor and sneered at her, "Why do the chickens get to eat if they're not doing their job?"
"What ya mean?" replied Joshlynn confused.
"I thought they're supposed to scream to let you know its time to get up."
A faint crack of bemusement threatened Joshlynn's grumpy demeanor and she answered with a sardonic tone, "Mr. Pepper only crows when he's about to attack and our other rooster is a teenager so he only crows at the ass crack of noon. You're better off setting an alarm. " She waved over her shoulder as she marched back to the kitchen.
Vortex sauntered out into the hall in his new outfit. The town and its people could get scrapped but credit was due to the one individual that had decent tastes to sport black shirts adorning the jolly roger and then donate them.
The table still exhibited southern hospitality but lacked a certain warmth from yesterday. Fruit was still on the menu with milk and orange juice to drink, but cold cereal seemed to be the main option. The former copter snatched an apple and prodded the boxes, lingering longer at the image of a sun shoveling two scoops of its product in a sugar high crazed. Boring, what was Joshlynn doing in the kitchen, it seemed far more interesting and involved fire!
The skillet from earlier rested over an open flame on the stove as she stirred a foreign concoction in a bowl. The combaticon helped himself to some chopped leftover ingredients.
"Excuse me, can I help you with something?" She frowned at him.
"Sure, breakfast," he said between munches.
She pointed back to the dining room with the spatula, "We have cereal for ya, I recommend the raisin bran, it's the only one of the three with sugar in it."
He huffed at the boxes, "I'll pass and have what you're having."
The teen peered at him from the corners of her eyes, "Not happen'n, I cook for myself."
"Which happens to be?"
"What does it look like?"
He chewed the inside of his cheek, continue their game or try to learn something about humans? "Cooking the remains of your latest victim," he said dryly.
She poured the contents on the skillet with a smirk and fired back with equal caliber, "Nope, beaten chicken embryos, fermented bovine lactation juice, with veggies that brought a pillow to a knife fight. But thanks for playing"
"What?!" he snorted a laugh. Sense of humor detected in so unlikely a place, a twisted sense.
For the first time, Joshlynn paused and faced him, "An omelet genius."
"A what?"
She scrutinized him, "An omelet, you guys really in the army? It's like 85% of all ya'lls diet. A base was on the verge of a nuclear meltdown if the omelet bar was outta function."
His grin deepened, 'Clever girl, Onslaught might know more about military conduct but she knows more of the lifestyle. She would be a good asset if she wasn't so slagging interested in poking through the cracks.'
Though he was an inch or two higher, Vortex tilted forward to her eye level with his hands on his hips. "Kid, I've been on rations so long I can't remember the last time I was full let alone not recharging in a barrack or on a field mission."
"Oh really, well now that you're back in society I bet ya'll are itch'n to get clean shaven like the good little army grunts you are." She motioned at her face, indicating the peach fuzz desperately failing to assert itself on him.
Scrap, that was another reference to an army slice of life and he didn't have any idea what she was alluding to. Wait, what the scrap! He didn't even remotely pretend to follow decepticon protocols so if he was a human in the army he still wouldn't care.
He rolled his shoulders and leaned against the sink, "Who said I was a good little soldier boy? Besides I'm not in any hurry. The others don't seem to be either, in fact I'm curious who will have the more impressive outcome if we don't."
"In that case, you're badly losing."
He leaned down to her again, "Where did you get in your processor that we appointed you as judge?"
She returned to the skillet, flipped her omelet, and asked over her shoulder, "Processor? Recharge? I bet you refuel too?"
"Yup," he said thoughtlessly.
He could see the corner of her eyes watching him and a soft whisper, "Interesting."
'Scrap! I'm putting the brakes on this!' He thought to himself, 'but where am I going to hide the body?! Wait a minute, Onslaught doesn't think she would be useful, if there's one thing I love more in the universe than ruining Onsy's day, it's proving him wrong. And here I have an opportunity to do both. Well who says I can't be diplomatic!'
His features contorted to Swindle's persuasive persona "Oh that's me alright, I'm just an enigma wrapped in a mystery, electro plated in a conundrum." He finished with a leer that would have made the Joker rethink his actions, but cocked a brow in surprise. He was hoping to scare her a little to cease the questioning; till Onslaught relented and let him convert the child to the decepticon side, but the sudden flush of red in her cheeks was not the outcome he had expected.
The tapping of a cane announced itself from the living room side of the breakfast bar, "Ah Josh, good to see you handling things this morning and getting the table set. And you're making our guests eggs, that's so sweet of you."
"Papa I ain't.."started Joshlynn but Namoi cut her off as she appeared by her husband's side.
"Gil, don't call her that, that's a boy's name. The proper way to shorten her name is Lynn or just call her by her full name."
"Dear I see ah no harm using the first halfa her name or calling her Wildcat."
The teen tried to interject but the old woman cut her off, "Harm? Harm! We'll be ridiculed in town. A girl responding to a male name, they'll think she's gender confused."
"We'll just use it in the house."
"If you start in the house and get use to it, then you'll use it in public and folks will look at you weird."
Said person of ridicule rubbed her temples; Vortex tapped her shoulder and pointed to the smoke billowing from the beyond saving omelet. She was just about to dump it in the trash when the interrogator caught it with a plate. He took a bite, savoring the charred aftertaste and gave her a thumbs up as he exited to the dining room but not quite out of ear shot.
The two old squawkers had intensified their quarrel until Joshlynn shoved two fingers in her mouth and released a shrill whistle, the two stopped. "Hey, how about instead of arguing over what you think you should address me with; why not ask me?"
Gilbert nodded like a chicken and Namoi answered, "Oh, of course sweety, you are old enough to choose, practically an adult next year, how do you want to go by?"
Joshlynn replied with a smile in some guttural language that made her grandmother's demeanor ice colder than the outer rims of the solar system. "No young lady! We do not use that in this house. Adult or not, that pagan name is not appropriate! Is that clear!"
"But grammie that is my name, it's important to me. It doesn't mean anything bad."
"No, you use your christian name that is on your birth certificate. Your proper name." She marched back towards the stairs, Gilbert followed. "Honestly Gil, I raised her mother so well in the faith, but she just let him instill those blasphemous traditions into their home. I don't know if we can undo all the damage he did to her. I'm calling pastor Keith." The two were oblivious to their guests they had cut off at the hall entrance.
The four combaticons became more confused with a nonchalant Vortex leaning against the dining room wall, eating what appeared to be a burnt discus.
"So… did we miss anything?"
The former copter grinned and whispered to Swindle, "Let's just say I might have some vital information that would insure we have a potential human ally."
"What did I say yesterday about talking about such things in the open," came the gestalt leader's growl.
Vortex broadened his grin and shouted, "Good morning boss! Want some breakfast!" He shoved his plate in Onslaught's face who grimaced uneasily and shook his head. "Any one want one?" He showed the others. "No? Good news Wildcat, no one wants any beaten chicken embryos, come have breakfast with us."
None bothered to ask what he meant, they never really did.
Said teenager peered from the door; Vortex offered the chair next to him and patted the cushion. She awkwardly balked before scooching between him and Swindle as everyone munched on a piece of fruit. The thorniness of the situation intensified as they finished all the non yellow boomerang shaped fruit that was offered, but made no move to try the other edibles, despite their stomachs growling. She made no move to fix herself anything; this was going nowhere.
Swindle feeling braver, not enough to touch a banana, snatched a box, scanning the cover. The name held little interest to him but the picture of a bowl full of the box's contents soaked in a liquid was most helpful. 'The assembly of this type of meal seems simple,' he nodded to himself.
He filled a bowl, grabbed a spoon, and went for the container of white liquid labeled milk. 'So far so good, her stoic expression hasn't changed, I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary.'
The orange container intercepted him, the teen held it to him without taking her eyes off the wood graining of the table.
The con artist smiled and was about to thank her when his eye did a double take of the printed box. Hold the comm link, this image did not match. Was she on to them? Did Brawl say something stupid to her yesterday. This oddly felt like a blacksmith teaching sparklings on how to walk but instead guided them to slam into walls or fall down stairs, all to feed their schadenfreude complex.
Swindle grabbed the milk jug, "Thank you but I prefer mine with this." He winked at the three across from him and silently prayed that they caught what he was up to.
The task failed successfully as the teen mumbled 'weirdo' in response. This sent a chain reaction to Brawl who made his bowl with orange juice, Blastoff and Onslaught hesitantly followed in suit.
Swindle blinked in disbelief, he knew he selected the correct container, but her comment played off the others' fears of not acting like humans. Vortex had told them to follow her example in order to blend in, but she could not have caught on already. Could she?
The sly 'Starscream' smirk she was giving him said otherwise. Kid was about to meet her manufacturer if she didn't back off; she couldn't possibly be the human ally Vortex was referring to?
'Why am I bothering to help these despicable reprobates when we're probably stuck like this forever, I never get any appreciation for sticking my neck out for them. Kid, I don't know what you convinced them to pour in their cereal but if they're going to trust you more than me they deserve every grimace they're making. Yeah Brawl, you taste that? That's the taste of what happens when you make decisions you mother slagge, '….. Vortex winked at him and snatched the milk and orange juice, mixed with his cereal, and took a big bite.
The teen gagged and covered her mouth, "That is disgusting!"
Vortex motioned to the others, "What? We all like to fix and enjoy ours in different ways." He scooped another large bite.
Joshlynn jerked her head back and covered her eyes, "You ain't no helicopter; you're ah garbage disposal. I'll be outside, you two, finish your cereal and meet me out there."
Vortex grinned at them as she left, "You're welcome."
After the ruckus that had been breakfast, Vortex left for work, leaving Swindle and Blastoff stumbling to get ready to find employment. The former shuttle had stowed himself in the bathroom, preening as much as a certain egotistical seeker.
Swindle fussed in the full length mirror over a black tie found in the donated clothes pile but chucked it in frustration. Business Earth men wore them all the time, how in the scrap was it so difficult to install this infernal contraption around his neck?
He dug further through the pile for anything that could pass as business casual. This may be for a temporary job but slag it he wasn't going to be sloppy in his professionalism, and this melange of clothes wasn't helping! Were all these John Deer and Bass Pro hats from one household? He pulled out a straw ten gallon hat that displayed it had been 'well loved' beyond its life expectancy; but the hatband had been recently replaced. Said hatband is what caught the merchant's eye. "Oh silver!"
Swindle yanked it off and dangled it by the leather loop; admiring the engraved, circle pendant clasped with a jasper jewel. The two strings tipped in silver tassels chimed softly. Not a bad piece, he'd need to find a safe place to store it from the others before selling, but in the meantime… what better place than on himself, males wore jewelry. Right?
He tossed the loop over his head, flipped his collar down, and snuggled the pendant to the top button. Not bad, not bad at all, dashing you could say, charming, He gave one of his trademark smirks. 'I bet I could be a trendsetter with this. I'm that persuasive.' He shot a pose, inching to a warm acceptance of his new organic figure smiling back on him.
'Well if Vortex's IT kept the consistency of making me the smallest out of the group then IT must have translated my mechanical good looks into handsome human features, I hope. Unless what is considered desirable for us is the polar opposite for this backwards culture.'
The former Jeep's demeanor drooped to crestfallen; people in the town did treat him differently than his four teammates and it wasn't from his business practices, he hadn't pulled anything. Yet.
Was he as unsightly as them? He flipped the light switch and gave his reflection one last look. The sunlight filtering in the dark room through the blue curtains gave an azual refraction that made a lens over his reddish brown eyes. The optical illusion made his eye color appear as a dark purple. An odd comforting tie to his real form lurking deep within him.
He shook his head and puffed his chest, no certainly not, he was good looking still, those around him were just too simple minded to notice. Also, who cared. He was clever, sneaky, and his charisma out shined any of his physical features. He didn't need them, he didn't need anyone, all he needed was some good contacts and clientele, a headquarters, and his money to keep him going. El presidente was still on his contacts list, that was a good sign; although their business dynamic drastically altered so the paying field was even.
Only the glow from the sliver of a crack at the bottom of the bathroom door lit the tartarus hallway. How long was Blastoff going to be in there; what was with fliers and their neurosis on appearances? Exempting Vortex of course, rotor fliers were an entirely different brand.
The slam of the back door drew his attention; Joshlynn stomped across the living room and up the stairs. Her cowboy boots rattled the floorboards overhead and the con artist could hear her beating on a door and demanding her grandmother.
Odd, after knowing her for three days she emanated the desire to avoid and disagree with her elderly maternal authority figure like ravage and baths. He pressed his ear against the stair wall, 'What are you up to?'
The door creaked open, "Joshlynn? What is it? If you don't hurry you'll be late for school."
"It's important, also if ya give me mah truck keys I won't."
"Young lady! You purposely set yourself up just to be able to drive the truck to school."
"What? No! Grammie, I didn't come here tah argue over that. Those guys stay'n with us are not who they say they are, I don't think they're in the army. They use weird nouns and adjectives like refuel and recharge, they watch me and copy my behavior at the table, and they don't know what an omelet is.
"Joshlynn I don't have the energy for this. If you're still mad for losing your room and having to stay in the attic, remember we've all had to make sacrifices, sacrifices for you. Don't forget, you only have a little over a year left."
"I ain't even a legal adult yet and that clock ticks louder than the sand grains in the grim reaper's hourglass. I'm not mad about my new lodgings, I'm mad that we're so focused on making money that we took in five strange men who are lying about who they say they are and tossing our safety out the window."
"Joshlynn cut the dramatics. I've been advertising those rooms for weeks and we finally have some guests."
"Grammie, let's just find another way tah earn the money or take in other tenants."
"There are no other potential tenants."
"The festival, it'll…"
"No Joshlynn, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."
"This isn't about how much money we can make, it's about our safety."
"They have not done anything wrong and have been reliable on payments, now get. There are bigger things to worry about, like your school attendance
The upstairs door slammed and an exasperated teen robotically marched down the stairs in a trance, oblivious to Swindle in the shadows. Only when the teen had exited the front door did he peer out.
'My concern was warranted, her grandmother's stupid belief that people are inherently good is the only thing keeping us safe.' The bathroom door creaked open catching his attention, Blastoff strode out to the bedroom in slacks and a dark magenta dress shirt with his hair slicked back.
'Wow, he really doesn't want that bus job.' Swindle followed in suit, "James, we have a problem."
"We have several, first we're human, we're stuck in a dirt poor settlement, I have to work, and finding a decent outfit is," he inhaled, "challenging." He spotted the black tie and immediately converted it into a trinity knot and gave a stern nod. "Acceptable."
"How, how, how'd you do that?"
"Hpmf, this? Hardly impressive and the fabric has much to be desired; but, I doubt anyone in this town could afford silk." His long, bony fingers plucked at the pills dotting the frayed cotton before noticing Swindle's accessory. "A bolo tie? I guess you will be adopting Gilbert's and Joshlynn's atrocious accent next and wear belt buckles?"
"There's a name for this? I thought I was being innovative."
"No, just inferior for lacking the sophistication to tie a tie."
"But enough class to blend with the locals. As humans say 'When in Rome, do as the Romans."
"Yes, immerse yourself in your true plebeian programming."
"Oh I will, and when Joshlynn rattraps us out, I won't stick as a sore thumb as much as the rest of you."
"Hpmf, Joshlynn rattraps us?"
The room chilled several degrees with the conartist's demeanor, "She knows our story is untrue, she doesn't know what we really are or what to make of us. But she actively sought out her grandmother to warn her and try to get us kicked out."
Blastoff rolled his eyes, "Why should I believe you."
"What?! Because it's the truth!"
"Yes, believe the one who sold me for parts, the one who gave me lying lessons two days ago, and the one..."
"Who fought denta and digit to stay in this town because I thought we were fortunate to have a good headquarters setup because the people in this town have been accepting our answers at face value. But turns out we are also under the same roof of a teenager who is the only observant being in this lost land, and our only saving grace is that she is dismissed by her authority figures and somewhat a pariah in this town."
Blastoff too could have played poker with Onslaught and he glided out of the bedroom. "I might spare a thought, if things go my way today."
Onslaught watched Joshlynn pedal down the dirt road to school. He couldn't put his finger on it but some weird transaction had occurred at breakfast and she, Swindle, and Vortex knew it. He did not like things hiding and running behind his back..
Behind him, Brawl opened the lids to the coops in search of eggs as giddy as a five year old on an Easter hunt and placed them in his basket with as much tenderness as an enraged Megatron had for his second in command. A sticky mess was leaking from the bottom oozing along the ground, giving Brawl the appearance of a clumsy overgrown snail. Joshlynn had warned him to be careful but she would have better luck convincing Octane to share his oil reserves for free.
"What do you think humans do with these?"
"Who cares, finish your scavenger hunt. According to the old man, we have to repair part of the fence where we were yesterday," he pitched a spray of grain across the yard at the migrating mass of feathers.
"Does that mean we get to take the horses out again?" His shoulders vibrating in building excitement.
"Primus, give me strength," the decepticon officer braced himself against a coop, flashbacks bombarded him like the persistent pecking he felt on his boots.
"Well at least we aren't under the control of the reprogramming."
"At this point I'm beginning to miss that shocking tingle stabbing my processor when I envision Megatron's and Shockwave's armor turning grey with smoldering holes riddled across their chassis by my rifle"
"You're rifle doesn't have that many shots, I'm making some of those shots too?"
"Yes, yes you're always a big help," answered a quasi facetious tone.
"Also if you are enjoying the pain does that make you sadomasochistic like Vortex?"
Onslaught flung a handful of feed at his heavy weapons expert; Brawl tried to shield his face but had released his support on the coop roof; it slammed down on his head and he slumped to the ground. A dust devil of feathers descended upon him and he began bellowing and flailing.
It should be said that on this day a historical event occurred, over five million years in the making, a foreign noise that no autobot or decepticon would believe unless they were there and even if they had heard it they would question their audio receptors. Brawl, alas, missed it as the chaotic clucking and flapping of chickens shadowed it. A noise erupted from Onslaught, one not produced since his imprisonment, even millennia before that. And it abruptly disappeared to the wind when the former tank's flailing ejected a slimy yellow mass that splattered the decepticon leader square in the chest. Then things turned dead silent.
A roadrunner watched from a fence post.
Once again, thanks for reading and taking the time to give me feedback.
Stay safe and well out there!